THE
ANALOGY OF RELIGION,
NATURAL AND REVEALED
TO THE
CONSTITUTION AND COURSE OF NATURE.
TO WHICH ARE ADDED,
TWO BRIEF DISSERTATIONS:
i. 0JN PERSONAL IDENTITY.-II. ON THE NATURE OF VIRTUE
BY
J 0 SEPH BUTLER, D,.C.L
LATE LORD BISHOP OF DURHAM..um [Analogiae] hwec vis est, ut id quod dubiunr est ad aliquid simile, de qujo non?imrtnu
referat ut incerta certis probet.-QUINTIL. 1. i. C. 6.
WITH
AN ACCOUNT OF THE CHARACTER AND WRITINGS OF THE AUTHORt
BY SAMUEL HALIFAX, D.D.
LATE LORD BISHOP OF GLOUCESTER.
NEW YORK:
ROBERT CARTER & BROTWHERS,
No. 530 BROADWAY.








TO
THE REVEREND
DR THOMAS BALGUY,
ARCHDEACON AND PREBENDARY OF "1N'CHESTEIL t.a
DEAR SIR,
I TRUST YOU will excuse the liberty I have taken of
prefixing your name to the following sheets; the latter
part of which, I am confident, will not be thought
undeserving of your approbation; and of the former part
you will commend the intention at least, if not the
execution. In vindicating the character of Bishop Butler
from the aspersions thrown upon it since his death, I
have but discharged a common duty of humanity, which
survivors owe to those who have deserved well of mankind by their lives or writings, when they are past the
power of appearing in their own defence. And if what
I have added, by way of opening the general design of
the Works of this great Prelate, be of use in exciting the
younger class of Students in our Universities to read, and
so to read as to understand, the Two Volumes prepared
and  dablished by the Author himself; I flatter myself I
shall have done no inconsiderable service to Morality
and Religion. Your time and studies have been long
successfully devoted to the support of the same great
cause: and in what you have lately given to the world,
both as an Author and an Editor, you have largely contributed to the defence of our common Christianity, and
of what was esteemed by One, who was perfectly competent to judge, its best Establishment, the Church of
England. In the present publication I consider myself








CO NT EN TS.
Pagr
INT1hODUCTION..       * ~                48
PART I.
OF NATURAL RELIGION.
CHAm. 1.-Of a Future lIfe..                          f 57
CHAP. II. —Of the Government of God by Rewards and Punishments;
and particularly of the latter....,,
CHAP. III.-Of the Moral Government of God....      83
CHAP. IV.-Of a State of Probation, as implying Trial, Difficulties,
and Danger.......                105
CusP. V.-Of a State of Probation, as intended for moral Disciplin
and Improvement.......           112
CHAP. VI.-Of the Opinion of Necessity, considered as influencing
Practice.....                           134
CHAP. VII. —Of the Government of God, considered as a Scheme or
Constitution, imperfectly comprehended...       148
CONCLUSION....    150
PART n.
OF REVEALED RELIGION.
-"HAP. I.-Of the Importance of Christianity.                 16.
CHAP. II.-Of the supposed Presumption against a Revelation, considered as miraculous......              18'




vi                        (CONTENTS.
C(HAr. I1 I. —Of our incapacity of judging, what were to be expected in
a Revelation; and the Credibility, from  Analogy, that it must
contain Things appearing liable to Objections.           1
RnAP. IV.-Of Christianity, considered as a Scheme or Constitution,
imperfectly comprehended......    201
CHAP, V.-Of the particular System of Christianity; the Appointment
of a Mediator, and the Redemption of the World by him.    208
CHAP. VI. —Of the Want of Universality in Revelation: and of the
supposed Deficiency in the Proof of it....    225
CHAP. VII. —Of the particular Evidence for Christianity..    242
CHAP. VIII.-Of the Objections which may be made against arguing
from the Analogy of Nature to Relgion.               275
CONCLUSION....... 
DISSERTATION I. —Of Personal Identity,     97
DlSSERTATION II.-Of the Nature of Virtue   V~.




ADVERTISEMENT
PREFIXED TO THE FIRST EDITION.
[F the reader should meet here with any thing which he
haal not before attended to, it will not be in -the observations upon the constitution and course of nature, these
being all obvious; but in the application of them: in
which, though there is nothing but what appears to me
of. some real weight, and therefore of great importance;
yet he will observe several things, which will appear to
him of very little, if he can think things to be of little
importance, which are of any real weight at all, upon
such a subject as religion.  However, the proper force
of the following Treatise lies in the whole general analogy
considered together.
It is come, I know not how, to be taken for. granted,
by many persons, that Christianity is not so much as a
subject of inquiry; but that it is, now at length, discovered to be fictitious. And accordingly they treat it,
as if, in the present age, this were an agreed point among
ali people of discernment; and nothing remained, but to
set it up as a principal subject of mirth and ridicule, as
it were by way of reprisals, for its having so long interrupted the pleasures of the world.  On the contrary,
thus much, at least, will be here found, not taken for
granted, but proved, that any reasonable man, who will
thoroughly consider the matter, may be as much assured,
as he is of his own being, that it is not, however, so clear
a case, that there is nothing in it. There is, I think,
strong evidence of its truth; but it is certain no one can,
upon principles of reason, be satisfied of the contrary.
Aind the practical consequence to be drawn from this is
not attended to by every one who is concerned in it.
May, 173O.




viii
ai, a fellow labourer with you in the same design, and
tracing the path you have trod before, but at great
distance, and with unequal paces.  When, by His
Majesty's goodness, I was raised to that station of
eminence in the Church, to which you had been first
named, and which, on account of the infirmity of your
health, you had desired to decline; it was honour enough
for me on such an occasion to have been thought of next
to you: and I know of no better rule by which to govern
my conduct, so as not to discredit the Royal Hand which
conferred on me so signal and unmerited a favour, than
in cases of difficulty to put the question to myself, How
you would probably have acted in the same situation.
You see, Sir, I still look up to you, as I have been wont,
both as my Superior and my Example. That I may long
reap the benefit of your advice and friendship; and that
such a measure of health and strength may be continued
to you, as may enable you to pass the evening of your
days with comfort, and enjoy the blessings of the life you
love; is the cordial wish of,
Dear Sir,
Your very affectionate
and faithful Servant,
S. GLOUCESTER
Hertouth Street, Westnminster
12th Ayq, 17(n




PREFACE BY THE ED1TOR
" When I consider how light a matter very often subjects the best established
characters to the suspicions of posterity, posterity often as malignant to virtue as
the age that saw it was envious of its glory; and how ready a remote age is to catch
at a low revived slander, which the times that brought it forth saw despised and
forgotten almost in its birth; I cannot but think it a matter that deserves attenLion." —Letter to the Editor of the Letters on the Spirit of Patriotism, &c., by BsrHop
WARBURTON. See his Works, vol. vii. p. 547.
THE Charge to the Clergy of the Diocese of Durham
was printed and published in the year 1751, by the
learned Prelate whose name it bears; and, together
with the Sermons and Analogy of the same writer, both
too well known to need a more particular description,
completes the collection of his Works. It has long
been considered as a matter of curiosity, on account of
its scarceness; and it is equally curious on other accounts-its subject, and the calumny to which it gave
occasion, of representing the Author as addicted to super.
stitior., as inclined to popery, and as dying in the communion of the Church of Rome.  The improved edition
of the Biographia Britannica, published under the care
of Dr Kippis, having unavoidably brought this calumny
again into notice, it may not be unseasonable to offer a
few reflections in this place, by way of obviating any
impressions that may hence arise to the disadvantage
of so great a character as that of the late Bishop Butler;
referring those who desire a more particular account of
his life, to the third volume of the same entertaining
work, printed in 1784. art. BUTLER (Josepn).*
I. The principal design of the Bishop in his Charge
is, to exhort his Clergy to "do their part towards reviving a practical sense of religion amongst the people
committed to their care;" and, as one way of effecting
this, to "instruct them  in the Importance of External
Religion," or the usefulness of outward observances in
promoting inward piety. Now, from the compound
* The account here alluded to is subjoined to this Preface.




X                   PREFACE
nature of man, consisting of two parts, the body and the
mind, together with the influence which these are found
to have on one another, it follows, that the religious regards of such a creature ought to be so framed, as to be
in some way properly accommodated to both. A religion which is purely spiritual, stripped of every thing
that may affect the senses, and considered only as a
divine philosophy of the mind, if it do not mount up into
enthusiasm, as has frequently been the case, often sinks,
after a few short fervours, into indifference: an abstracted
invisible object, like that which natural religion offers,
ceases to move or interest the heart; and something
further is wanting to bring it nearer, and render it more
present to our view, than merely an intellectual contemplation. On the other hand, when, in order to remedy
this inconvenience, recourse is had to instituted forms
and ritual injunctions, there. is always danger lest men
be tempted to rest entirely on these, and persuade
themselves that a painful attention to such observances
will atone for the want of genuine piety and virtue.
Yet surely there is a way of steering safely between
these two extremes; of so consulting both the parts of
our constitution, that the body and the mind may concur
in rendering our religious services acceptable to God,
and at the same time useful to ourselves. And what
way can this be, but precisely that which is recommended in the Charge; such a cultivation of outward as well
as inward religion, that from both may result, what is
the point chiefly to be laboured, and at all events to be
secured, a correspondent temper and behaviour; or, in
other words; such an application of the forms of godliness, as may be subservient in promoting the power and
spirit of it P No man, who believes the Scriptures of
the Old and New Testament, and understands what he
believes, but must know, that external religion is as much
enjoined, and constitutes as real a part of revelation, as
that which is internal. The many ceremonies in use
among the Jews, in consequence of a divine command;
the baptism of water, as an emblem of moral purity; the
eating and drinking of bread and wine, as symbols and
representations of the body and blood of Christ, requlired




BY THE EDITOR,                      Xi
of Christians, are proofs of this.  On comparing these
two parts of religion together, one, it is immediately
seen, is of much greater importance than the other; and,
whenever they happen to interfere, is always to be preferred: but does it follow from hence, that therefore that
other is of little or no importance, and, in cases where
there is no competition, may entirely be neglected P Or
rather is not the legitimate conclusion directly the reverse, that nothing is to be looked upon as of little importance, which is of any use at all in preserving upon
our minds a sense of the Divine authority, which recalls
to our remembrance the obligations we are under, and
helps to keep us, as the Scripture expresses it, "in the
fear of the Lord all the day long P'*  If, to adopt the
instance mentioned in the Charge, the sight of a church
should remind a man of some sentiment of piety; if,
from the view of a material building dedicated to the
service of God, he should be led to regard himself, his
own body, as a living "temple of the Holy Ghost,"t and
therefore no more than the other to be profaned or desecrated by any thing that defileth or is impure; could it
be truly said of such a one, that he was superstitious, or
mistook the means of religion for the end P   If, to use
another, and what has been thought a more obnoxious
instance, taken from the Bishop's practice, a cross, erected in a place of public worship, + should cause us to reflect on Him  who died on a cross for our salvation, and
on the necessity of our "own dying to sin,"~ and of
"' crucifying the flesh with its affection and lusts;"11 would
any worse consequences follow from such sentiments so
excited, than if the same sentiments had been excited by
the view of a picture, of the crucifixion suppose, such
as is commonly placed, and with this very design, in
foreign churches, and indeed in many of our own P Both
the instances here adduced, it is very possible, may be
* Prov. xxiii. 17.            t I Cor. vi. 19.
f Dr Butler, whten Bishop of Bristol, put up a cross,.a plain piece of marble inlaid,
ii the chapel of his episcopal house. T.his, wtrich was intended by the blameless
Prelate merely as a sign or memorial, that tlrue Cllristians are to bear their cross, and
not to be ashamed of following a crucified Master, was considered as affording a
presumtptioli that he was secretly inclined to Popish forms and cereltonlies, and had
ilo great dislike to -opery itself. And, on account of the offence it occasioned, both
at the time and since, it were to be wished, in prudence, it had not been dace.
~ Rom. vi. 11.                 11 Gal. v. 24.




X1i                  PREFACE
far from being approved, even by those who are ulnder
the most sincere convictions of the importance of true
religion: and it is easy to conceive how open to scorn
and censure they must be from others, who think they
have a talent for ridicule, and have accustomed themselves to regard all pretensions to piety as hypocritical
or superstitious. But " Wisdom is justified of her children."*  Religion is what it is, "whether men will hear,
or whether they will forbear;"t and whatever in the
smallest degree promotes its interests, and assists us in
performing its commands, whether that assistance be
derived from the medium of the body or the mind, ought
to be esteemed of great weight, and deserving of our
most serious attention.
However, be the danger of superstition what it may,
no one was more sensible of that danger, or more in
earnest in maintaining, that external acts of themselves
are nothing, and that moral holiness, as distinguished
from  bodily observances of every kind, is that which
constitutes the essence of religion, than Bishop Butler.
Not only the Charge itself, the whole intention of which
is plainly nothing more than to enforce the necessity of
practical religion, the reality as well as form, is a demonstration of this, but many passages besides to the
same purpose, selected from his other writings. Take
the two following as specimens.  In his Analogy he observes thus: "Though mankind have, in all ages, been
greatly prone to place their religion in peculiar positive
rites, by way of equivalent for obedience to moral precepts; yet, without making any comparison at all between. them, and consequently without determining
which is to have the preference, the nature of the thing
abundantly shows all notions of that kind to be utterly
subversive of true religion: as they are, moreover, contrary to the whole tenor of Scripture; and likewise to
the most express particular declarations of it, that nothing can render us accepted of God, without moral
virtue."t  And to the same purpose in his Sermon,
preached before the Society for the Propagation of the
Gospel, in February, 1738-9. "Indeed, amongst crea* Mait. xi 19.  -    Ezek. ii. 5  t Analogy, Part II. Chap. i




BY THE EDITOR.                Xiii
tures naturally formed for religion, yet so muclh under
the power of imagination as men are, superstition is an
evil, which can never be out of sight. But even against
this, true religion is a great security, and the only one.
True religion, takes up that place in the mind, whllich
superstition would usurp, and so leaves little room for
at; and likewise lays us under the strongest obligations
to oppose it. On the contrary, the danger of superstition cannot but be increased by the prevalence of irreligion; and, by its general prevalence, the evil will be
unavoidable. For the common people, wanting a religion, will of course take up with almost any superstition
which is thrown in their way: and in process of time,
amidst the infinite vicissitudes of the political world, the
leaders of parties will certainly be able to serve themselves of that superstition, whatever it be, which is getting ground; and will not fail to carry it to the utmost
length their occasions require. The general nature of
the thing shows this; and history and fact confirm it.
It is therefore wonderful, those people who seem to
think there is but one evil in life, that of superstition,
should not see that atheism and profaneness must be the
introduction of it."*
He who can think and write in such a manner, can
never be said to mistake the nature of real religion: and
he, who, after such proofs to the contrary, can persist in
asserting of so discreet and learned a person, that he
was addicted to superstition, must himself be much a
stranger both to truth and charity.
And here it may be worth our while to observe, that
the same excellent Prelate, who by one set of men was
suspected of superstition, on account of his Charge, has
by another been represented as leaning to the opposite
extreme of enthusiasm, on account of his two discourses
On the Love of God.  But both opinions are equally
without foundation. He was neither superstitious, nor
an enthusiast: his mind was much too strong, and his
habits of thinking and reasoning much too strict and severe, to suffer him to descend to the weaknesses of either
character. His piety was at once fervent and rationaL
* Ser. xvi,




Xiv                     PREFACE
When impressed with a generous concern for the declining cause of religion, he laboured to revive its dying
interests; nothing he judged would be more effectual to
that end, among creatures so much engaged with bodily
things, and so apt to be affected with whatever strongly
solicits the senses, as men are, than a religion of such a
frame as should in its exercise require the joint exertions
of the body and the mind. On the other hand, when
penetrated with the dignity and importance of "the first
and great commandment,"* love to God, he set himself
to inquire, what those movements of the heart are,
which are due to Him, the Author and Cause of all
things; he found, in the coolest way of consideration,
that God is the natural object of the same affections of
gratitude, reverence, fear, desire of approbation, trust,
and  dependence, the same affections in kind, though
doubtless in a very disproportionate degree, which any
one would feel from contemplating a perfect character
in a creature, in which goodness, with wisdom and
power, are supposed to be the predominant qualities,
with the further circumstance, that this creature was
also his governor and friend. This subject is manifestly
a real one; there is nothing in it fanciful or unreasonable: this way of being affected towards God is piety, in
the strictest sense: this is religion, considered as a habit
of mind; a religion, suited to the nature and condition
of man.l
II. From superstition to Popery, the transition is easy:
no wonder then, that, in the progress of detraction, the
simple imputation of the former of these, with which the
attack on the character of our Author was opened,
should be followed by the more aggravated imputation
of the latter. Nothing, I think, can fairly be gathered
in support of such a suggestion from the Charge, in
which Popery is barely mentioned, and occasionally
* Matt. xxii. 38.
t Many'of the sentiments, in these Two Discourses of Bishop Butler, containing
the sovereign good of man; the impossibility of procuring it in'the present life; the
nxIsatisfactoriness of earthly enjoyments; together with the somewhat beyond and
above them all, which once attained, there will rest nothing further to be wished or
hoped; and which is then only to be expected, when we shall have put off this
mortal body, and our union with God shall be complete; occur in Hooker's Ecelo
siastical Polity. Book I. ~. 11.




BY THE EDITOR.              XV
only, and in a sentence or two; yet even there, it should
be remarked, the Bishop takes care to describe the peculiar observances required by it, "some as in themselves wrong and, superstitious, and others of them as
being made subservient to the purposes of superstition."
With respect to his other writings, any one at all conversalt with them needs not to be told, that the matters
treated of both in his Sermons and his Analogy did none
of them directly lead him to consider, and much less to
combat, the opinions, whether relating to faith or worship, which are peculiar to the Church of Rome: it
might therefore have happened, yet without any just
conclusion arising from thence, of being himself inclined
to favour those opinions, that he had never mentioned,
so much as incidentally, the subject of Popery at all.
But fortunately for the reputation of the Bishop, and to
the eternal disgrace of his calumniators, even this poor
resource is wanting. to support their malevolence. In
his Sermon at St Bride's before the Lord Mayor in
1740, after having said that "our laws and whole constitution go more upon supposition of an equality amongst
mankind, than the constitution and laws of other countries;" he goes on to observe, that "this plainly requires,
that more particular regard should be had to the education of the lower people here, than in places where they
are born slaves of power, and to be made slaves of superstition:* meaning evidently in this place, by the general term superstition, the particular errors of the Romanists. This is something: but we have a still plainer
indication what his sentiments concerning Popery really
were, from another of his additional Sermons, I mean
that before the House of Lords on June the 1 Ith, 1747,
the anniversary of his late Majesty's accession. The
passage alluded to is as follows; and my readers will
not be displeased that I give it them at length. " The
value of our religious Establishment ought to be very
much heightened in our esteem, by considering what it
is a security from; I mean that great corruption of
Christianity, Popery, which is ever hard at work to bring
us again under its yoke.  Whoever will consider the Po*Sernn. xvii,




Xvi                  PREFACE
pish claims, to the disposal of the whole earth, as of
divine right, to dispense with the most sacred engagemnents, the claims to supreme absolute authority in religion; in short, the general claims which the Canonists
express by the words, plenitude of power-whoever, I
say, will consider Popery as it is professed at Rome,
may see, that it is manifest, open usurpation of all human and divine authority. But even in those Roman
Catholic countries where these monstrous claims are
not admitted, and the civil power does, in many respects,
restrain the papal; yet persecution is professed, as it is
absolutely enjoined by what is acknowledged to be their
highest authority, a general council, so called, with the
Pope at the head of it; and is practised in all of them,
I think, without exception, where it can be done safely.
Thus they go on to substitute force instead of argument;
and external profession made by force, instead of reasonable conviction. And thus corruptions of the gressest sort have been in vogue, for many generations, in
many parts of Christendom; and are so still, even where
Popery obtains in its least absurd form: and their antiquity and wide extent are insisted upon as proofs of
their truth; a kind of proof, which at best can only be
presumptive, but which loses all its little weight, in pro..
portion as the long and large prevalence of such corruptions have been obtained by force."*  In another
part of the same Sermon, where he is again speaking of
our ecclesiastical constitution, he reminds his audience
that it is to be valued, "not because it leaves us at
liberty to have as little religion as we please, without
being accountable to human judicatories; but because
it exhibits to our view, and enforces upon our consciences, genuine Christianity, free from the superstitions with which it is defiled in other countries; which
superstitions, he observes, "naturally tend to abate its
force."  The date of this Sermon should herfe be attended to.  It was preached in June,. 1747; that is, four
years before the delivery and publication of the Charge,
which was in the year 1751; and exactly five years
before the Author died, which was in June, 1752. We
* Sterm. xx.




BY THE EDITOR.              XVI
hare then, in the passages now laid before the reader, a
clear and unequivocal proof, brought down to within a
few years of Bishop Butler's death, that Popery was
held by him in the utmost abhorrence, and that he regarded it in no other light, than as the great corruption
of Christianity, and a manifest, open usurpation of all human
and divine authority.  The argument is decisive; nor
will any thing be of force to invalidate it, unless from
some after-act during the short remainder of the Bishop's
life, besides that of delivering and printing his Charge
(which, after what I have said here, and in the Notes
added to this Preface and to the Charge I must have
leave to consider as affording no evidence at all of his
inclination to Papistical doctrines or ceremonies), the
contrary shall incontrovertibly appear.
III. One such after-act, however, has been alleged,
which would effectually demolish all that we have urged
in behalf of our Prelate, were it true, as is pretended,
that he died in the communion of the Church of Rome.
Had a story of this sort been invented and propagated
by Papists, the wonder might have been less:
Hoc Ithacus velit, et magno mercentur Atride.
But to the reproach of Protestantism, the fabrication of
this calumny, for such we shall find it, originated from
among ourselves.  It is pretty remarkable, that a circumstance so extraordinary should never have been divulged till the year 1767, fifteen years after the Bishop's
decease.  At that time Dr Thomas Secker was Archbishop of Canterbury; who of all others was the most
likely to know the truth or falsehood of the fact asserted,
having been educated with our Author in his early youth,
and having lived in a constant habit of intimacy with
him to the very time of his death. The good Archbishop was not silent on this occasion: with a virtuous
indignation he stood forth to protect the posthumous character of his friend; and in a public newspaper, under the
signature of Misopseudes, called upon his accuser to support what he had advanced, by whatever proofs he could..No proof, however, nor any thing like a proof, appeared
ill reply; and every man of sense and candour at that
B




XVlll                            PREFACE
time was perfectly  convinced  the assertion  was  entl,elv
groundless.*   As a further confirmation of the rectitude
* When the first edition of this Preface was published, I had in vain endeavoured
to procure a sight of the papers, in which Bishop Butler was accused of having died
a Papist, and Archbishop Secker's replies to them; though I well remembered to
have read both, when they first appeared in the plblic prints.  But a learned Professor ill the University of Oxford has furnished me with the whole controversy in its
original form; a brief history of which it may not be unacceptable to offer here to the
curious reader.
The attack was opened in the year 1767, in an anonymous pamphlet, entitled,
Tile Root of Protestant Errors examined;" in which the author asserted, that, " by
an anecdote lately given him, that same Prelate" (who at the bottom of tile page is
called B-p of D-m) "is said to have died in the communion of a Church, that
makes much use of saints, saints' days, and all the trumpery of saint worship." When
this remarkable fact, now first divulged, came to be generally known, it occasioned,
as might be expected, no little alarml; and intelligence of it was no sooner conveyed
to Archbishop Secker, thtan in a short letter, signed Mlisopsezedes, and printed in the
St James's Chronicle of May 9, he called upon thle writer to produce his authorit;
for publishing " so gross and scandalous a falsehood."  To this challenge an immediate answer was returned by the author of the pamphlet, who, now assuming the
name of Philectutheros, informed 3Misopseudes, through the channel of tlle same paper,
that " such anecdote had been given him; and that he was yet of opinion, that there
was nothing improbable in it; when it is considered that the same Prelate put up tilhe
Popish insignia of the cross in his chapel, when at Bristol; and in his last Episcopal
Charge has squinted very much towards that superstition."  Here we find the accusation not only repeated, but supported by reasons, such as they are, of which it seemed
necessary that some notice should be takemn: nor did the Archbishop conceive it un.beconming his own dignity to stand up oil this occasion, as the vindicator of innocence
agaixnst the calumniator of the helpless dead.  Accordingly, in a second le tter in the
same newspaper of May 23, alnd subscribed Mlisopseudes as before; afterl recitillg
fr-om Bishop Butler's Sermon before the Lords the very passage here printed ill tile
Preface, and observing, that " there are, inl the same Sernmon, declarations as strong
as can be. made against temporal punishments for heresy, schism, or eve'1n for'idoiltry;" Iris Grace expresses himself thus: " Now lie (Bislop Butlemr) was mllliver-ally
esteemed throughout his life, a Ian of strict piety and ihonesty, as wvell as uncommon
abilities.  He gave all the proofs, public anld private, which his stationi ltld him to
give, and they were decisive and daily, of his continuing to the last a. silc(tre neilnber
of tile Church of England.  Nor had ever any of his acquaintanlce, or miost intimate
f'iends, nor have they to this day, the least doul)t of it."  As to puttilg uij a cross in
his clapel, the Archbishop frankly owns, that for himself he wislhes he hlrld not; anld
thinks that in so doing tile Bishop did amiss. But then lie asks, " Call thlmat be opposed, as any proof of Popery, to all the tevidence on tle other side; or even to thle
single evidence of the above-mentioned Sermon? Most of our clichres  have crosses
upon them: are they therefore Popish churches?  The Lutheranss have m1ore thanl
crosses in theirs: are the Lutherans thlerefoi'e Papists?"  And;as to the Chlarge, io
Papist, his Grace remarks, wvould have spokenl as Bis!.op Butler there (tios, of the
observances peculiar to Roman Catholics, some of which he expressly ctlsles as
wrong and superstitiouls, and others, as made subservient to the pur, oses of sllperstition, alid, on these accounts, abolished at the Reformation.  After the publication of
this letter Phileleutheros replied illa slort detfence of his own conlduct, but without
producing any thing new ili conifirmation of what he had advanced.  And hlere the
controversy, so far as the two principals were concerned, seems to have ended.
But the dispute was not suffered to die away quite so soon.  For ill tie same year.
and in the same newspaper of July 21, another letter appeared; in wvlicli the author
not only contended that the cross in tlhe Episcopal chapel at Bristol, amid tile Charge
to the Clergy of Durham inl 175 1 amount to full proof of a strong attachlmnwlt to thle.dolacous communion of the Church of Rome, but, with the reader's leave, lie wou!ld
fain account for the Bislop's " tendency tis way."  And tlis he sttemptapd to do,'g irnm the natural melanlcholy and gloominess of Dr Butler's dispositionl; franlu his.a t fondlnesa for the lives of Romish sainlts, and their books of mystic piety; frmn
his drawing his notions of tenching men religion, not from the New Testament, hw




BY THE EDITOR.                               Xl;
of this judgment, it may not be amiss to mention, there
is yet in existence a strong presumptive argument at least
in its favour, drawn from the testimony of those who attended our Author in the sickness of which he died.
The last days of this excellent Prelate were passed at
Bath; Dr Nathanael Forster, his chaplain, being continually with him; and for one day, and at the very end
of his illness, Dr Martin Benson also, the then Bishop
of Gloucester, who shortened his own life in his pious
haste to visit his dying  friend.   Both these persons constantly wrote letters to Dr Secker, then Bishop of Oxford, containing accounts of Bishop Butler's declining
health, and of the symptoms and progress of his disorder,
which, as was conjectured, soon terminated in his death.
from philosophical and political opinions of his own; and above all, fro.n. his transition from a strict Dissenter amongst the Presbyterians to a rigid Churchman, and hlis
sudden alid unexpected elevationl to great wealth and Jignlity in tlhe Churcll."  Tlhe
attack, thus renewed, excited the Archl)ishop's attention a second time, amld drew
from him a fresh answer, sulbscribed also Alisopseudes, in the St James's Chronicle of
August 4. In this letter, our ~excellent Metropolitan, first of all obliquely hinting, at
the unfairness of sitting in judgment on the character of a man who liad bnt'll dead
fifteen years; and then reminding  his correspondent, that "full proof hatd been already published, that Bishop Butler abhorred Popery as a vile corruption of Christianity, and that it might be proved, if needful, that hte held the Pope to )be Antichrist;' (to which decisive testimonies of undoubted aversion froill tile Romnish
Church, another is also added in the Postscript, his taking, whllen promotedl to the see
of Durhain, for his domestic Chaptlain, Dr Nath. Forster, who had puldishledl, niot four
vears before, a Sermonl, entitled, Popery destructive of tile Evidence of Christiallity;)
proceeds to observe,'  that tle,nturll melancholy of the Bishop's temper would rather
have fixed him amongst his first friends, thiln pronpted 6iiim to thie clhange lie made:
that he read books of all sorts, as well as books of mystic piety, and knew how to
pick the good that was in tlhem out of the bad: that his opimnions were exposed withiout reserve in his Analogy and his Sermons, and if tile doctrine of either be Popish
or unscriptural, the learned world hath mistaken strangely in admiring I)oth: thiat,
instead of being a strict Dissenter, hre never was a commlunicant in any Dissenting asaembly; on the contrary, that lt weent occasionally. from  llis early years, to ti cstablished worship, and became a colstant conformist to it whiten he was barely of ag-?,
and entered himself, inl 1714, of Oriel College: that hlls elevation to great (lig::ity iIn
the Church, far from being suddelin ald ullexpe'cted, was a gradual and liat:rlal rise.
through a variety of preferinemlts, and a period of thirty-two yearss: that, as Bishop of
Durham, lie had very little authority beyond his brlethireii, and in ecciesiastical lmat-'ters, had none beyonlld themll; a larger inlcome tlatll most of themt  li t  had; but thlis
lie employed, not, as was inisinlilated, in aunlmentill tte polmp of worship in Iris cathedral, where indeed it is ilo greater than ill other'., b.it for tile purposes of chlirity,
and in the repairing of his houses."  After thlse remilirks, tile letter closes with tilhe
following words:   Upon tile wlhole, few accusatiolis, so enltirely groundless, hivo
been so pertinaciously, I ani unwillinlg to say nmalicouiSly, carried onl, as the pr'esent:
and surely it is high time for the auithors and abettors of it,  hi mere common p:ildelltcet
to show some regard, if not to trulld, at least to sattnie."
It only remains to be nlt eltiolie(t, that tire above lettrs of Archbishop Secker lsad
such an effect on a writer, wvilo sigield himtlself in tthe St.Jaines's Chrotlicle ot Augusit
25,.4 Dissenting Minister, thlat lie dlclared it as his opinlion, that " tile author of' ttie
punphlet, called,' Tle R(oot of Protestant Errors examinled,' anld his frieC;is, w'ers
obliged in candour, in justice, anld in honlour to retract their charge, uiless lthey
ewuld establish it on much better grounds thtan had hitherto appeared:"' aid ine ea
B2




~~XX                            PREFACE
These letters, which are still preserved in the Lambeth
library,* I have read; and not the slenderest argument
can be collected from them, in justification of the
ridiculous slander we are here considering.  If at that
awful season the Bishop was not known to have expressed any opinion tending to show his dislike to
Popery, neither was he known to have said any thing,
that could at all be construed in approbation of it; and
the natural presumption is that whatever sentiments he
had formerly el leltained concerning that corrupt system
of religion, he continued to entertain them to the last.
The truth is, neither the word nor the idea of Popery
seems once to have occurred either to the Bishop himself, or to those who watched his parting moments:
their thoughts were otherwise engaged.  His disorder
had reduced him to such debility, as to render him incapable of speaking much or long on any subject: the
few bright intervals that occurred were passed in a state
of the utmost tranquillity and composure; and in that
composure he expired. " Mark the perfect man, and
behold the upright: for the end of that man is peace."i
" Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last
end be like his!"t
Out of pure respect for the virtues of a man, whom I
pres-ed his "hopes, that it would be understood that the Dissenters in general had
Iuo hand in the accusation, and that it had only been the act of two or three mistaken
mtell."  Another person also, " a fi)reigner by birth," as he says of himself, who had
been long an admirer of Bishop Butler, and had perused with great attention all that
hatl beeni writtemn on both sides in the present colitroversy, confesses he bhad been;wonlderftilly pleased with observilng, with what candour amid temper, as well as
-i- arness and solidity, he was vindicated firom tile aspersions laid against him."  All
tle adlversaries of our Prelate, however, had not the virtue or sense to be thus convill(eedl; some of whom still continued, unu:er tile signatures of Old Martin, Latinzer,.4An Impartial Protestant, Paulinus, Misonothos, to repeat their confuted falsehoods in
tile publIic prints; as if the curse of calumniators had fallen upon them, and their
memlory, ly being long a traitor to truth, had taken a;t last a severe revenaoe, and
coml)elled  them to credit their own lie.  The first of these gentlemen, Old MAartin,
who dates from Newcastle, May 29, from the ran(our aild malignity with which his
letter abounds, and foiom  the particular virullence lie discovers t)wwards the characters
of Bishop Butler and his defender-, I coljectulre to be no other thanl the very person
who had already figured in this dispute, so early as the year 1752; of whose work,
entitled, "A Serious Inquiry into the Use and Importance of External Religion,' the
reader will find some account in the inotes subjoined lo the Bishop's Charge in the
volume of Sermons.
* The letters, with a sight of which I was indulged by the favour of our present
most worthy Metropolitan, are all, as I remember, wrapped together under one
cover; on the back of which is written, in Archbishop Saicker's own hand, the follSwing words, or words to thiseffect:4 Presumptive Arguments that Bishop B3itlt
d not die a Papist."
t Psalm xxxvii. 37.::  Numb. xxiiL.  1




BY THE EDITOR.              Xti
had never the happiness of knowing, or even of seeing,
but from whose writings I have received the greatest
benefit and illumination, and which I have reason to be
thankful to Providence for having early thrown in my
way, I have adventured, in what I have now offered to
the public, to step forth in his defence, and to vindicate
his honest fame from the attacks of those, who, with the
vain hope of bringing down superior characters to their
own level, are for ever at work in detracting from their
just praise.  For the literary reputation of Bishop
Butler, it stands too high in the opinion of the world, to
incur the danger of any diminution: but this in truth is
the least of his excellences. IHe was more than a good
writer, he was a good man; and what is an addition
even to this eulogy, he was a sincere Christian. His
whole study was directed to the knowledge and practice
of sound morality and true religion: these he adorned
by his life, and has recommended to future ages in his
writings; in which, if my judgment be of any avail, he
has done essential service to both, as much, perhaps, as
any single person, since the extraordinary gifts of "the
word of wisdom and the word of knowledge"* have
been withdrawn.
In what follows I propose to give a short account of
the Bishop's moral and religious systems, as these are
collected from his Works.
I. His way of treating the subject of morals is to be
gathered from the volume of his Sermons, and particularly from the three first, and from the preface to that
volume.
"There is," as our Author with singular sagacity has
observed, "a much more exact correspondence between
the natural and moral world, than we are apt to take notice of."t  The inward frame of man answers to his outward condition; the several propensities, passions, and
affections, implanted in our hearts by the Author of rnature, are in a peculiar manner adapted to the circumstances of life in which he hath placed us. This general observation, properly pursuedl, leads to several irm* I Cor. xii. 8.      t Serm. vi,




XXii                 PREFACE
portant conclusions.  The original internal constitution
of man, compared with his external condition, enables
us to discern what course of action and behaviour that
constitution leads to, what is our duty respecting that
condition, and furnishes us besides with the most powerful arguments to the practice of it.
Wahat the inward frame and constitution of man is, is a
question of fact; to be determined, as other facts are,
from experience, from our internal feelings and external senses, and from the testimony of others.  Whether
human nature, and the circumstances in which it is placed, might not have been ordered otherwise, is foreign to
our inquiry, and none of our concern: our province is,
taking both of these as they are, and viewing the connexion between them, from that connexion to discover
if we can, what course of action is fitted to that nature
and those circumstances.  From contemplating the bodily senses, and the organs or instruments adapted to
them, we learn that the eye was given to see with, the
ear to hear with.  In like manner, from considering our
inward perceptions and the final causes of thern, we collect that the feeling of shame, for instance, was given to
*prevent the doing of things shameful; compassion, to
carry us to relieve others in distress; anger, to resist
sudden violence offered to ourselves. if, continuing our
inquiries in this way, it should at lengtLh appear, that the
nature, the whole nature, of man leads him to and is fitted for that particular course of behaviour which we usually distinguish by the name of virtue, we are authorized to conclude, that virtue is the law we are born under,,hat it was so intended by the Author of our being; and
we are bound by the most intimate of all obligations, a
regard to our own highest interest and happiness, to
conform to it in all situations and events.
Human nature is not simple and uniform, but made up
of several parts; and we can have no just idea of it as a
system or constitution, unless we take into our view the
respects and relations which these parts have to each
other.  As the body is not one member, but many; so
our inward structure consists of various instincts, appetites, and propensions.  Thus far there is no difference




BY THE EDITOR.               xXili
between human creatures and brutes.  But besides these
common passions and affections, there is another principle, peculiar to mankind, that of conscience, moral sense,
reflection, call it what you please, by which they are enabled to review their whole conduct, to approve of some
actions in themselves, and to disapprove of others.
That this principle will of course have some influence on
our behaviour, at least at times, will hardly be disputed:
but the particular influence which it ought to have, the precise degree of power in the regulating of our internal frame
that is assigned it by Him who placed it there, is a point
of the utmost consequence in itself, and on the determination of which the very hinge of our Author's Moral
System turns.  If the faculty here spoken of be, indeed,
what it is asserted to be, in nature and kind superioir to
every other passion and affection; if it be given, not
merely that it may exert its force occasionally, or as our
present humour or fancy may dispo;e us, but that it may
at all times exercise an uncontrollable authority and government over all the rest; it will then follow, that, in order to complete the idea of human nature, as a system,
we must not only take in each particular bias, propension, instinct, which are seen to belong to it, but we
must add besides the principle of conscience, together
with the subjection that is due to it from all the other
appetites and passions: just as the idea of a civil constitution is formed, not barely from enumerating the several members and ranks of which it is composed, bult
from these considered as acting in various degrees of
subordination to each other, and all under the direction
of the same supreme authority, whether that authority
be vested in one person or more.
The view here given of the internal constitution of man,
and of the supremacy of conscience, agreeably to the
corceptions of Bishop Butler, enables us to comprehend
the force of that expression, common to him and the ancient moralists, that virtue consists in following nature.
The meaning cannot be, that it consists in acting agree.
ably to that propensity of our nature which happens to
be thle!trongest; or which propels us towards cert-ii1
objects, -wi:!lmJmt ainy regard to the methods vby'::i'ti




X~CXV                PREFACE
they are to be obtained: but the meaning must be, twat
virtue consists in the due regulation and subjection of all
the other appetites and affections to the superior faculty
of conscience; from a conformity to which alone our actions are properly natural, or correspondent to the nature, to the whole nature, of such an agent as man.
From hence too it appears, that the author of our frame
is by no means indifferent to virtue and vice, or has left
us at liberty to act at random, as humour or appetite
may prompt us; but that every man has the rule of right
within him; a rule attended in the very notion of it with
authority, and such as has the force of a direction an.l a
command from Him  who made us what we are, what
course of behaviour is suited to our nature, and which
he expects that we should follow.  This moral faculty
implies also a presentiment and apprehension, that the
judgment which it passes on our actions, considered as
of good or ill desert, will hereafter be confirmed by the
unerring judgment of God; when virtue and happiness,
vice and misery, whose ideas are now so closely connected, shall be indissolubly united, and the divine government be found to correspond in the most exact proportion to the nature he has given us.  Lastly, this just
prerogative or supremacy of conscience it is, which Mr
Pope has described in his Universal Prayer, though
perhaps he may have expressed it rather too strongly
where he says,
"What conscience dictates to be done,
Or warns me not to do,
This teach me more than hell to shun,
That more than heaven pursue."
The reader will observe, that this way of treating the
subject of morals, by an appeal to facts, does not at all
interfere with that other way, adopted by Dr Samuel
Clarke and others, which begins with inquiring into the
relations and fitnesses of things, but rather illustrates and
confirms it.  That there are essential differences in the
qualities of human actions, established by nature, and
that this natural difference of things, prior to and independent of all will, creates a natural fitness in the agent
to act agreeably to it, seems as little to be denied, as
that there. is the moral difference before explained, from




BY THE EDITOR.                           XXV
which we approve and fi el a pleasure  in  what is right,
and conceive a distaste  to  what is wrong.   Still, however, when we are endeavouring to establish either this
moral or that natural difference, it ought never to  be
forgotten, or rather it will require to be distinctly shown,
that both of these, when traced up to their source, suppose an intelligent Author of nature.and moral Ruler of
the world; who originally appointed these differences,
and by such an appointment has signified his will that
we should conform to them, as the only effectual method
of securing our happiness on the whole under his government.*   And of this  consideration  our Prelate himself
was not unmindful; as may be collected from many expressions in different parts of his writings, and particularly from the following passages in his eleventh Sermon. "It may be allowed, without any prejudice to
the cause of virtue and religion, that our ideas of happiness and misery are of all our ideas the nearest and
most important to us; that they  will, nay if you  please,
they ought to prevail over those of order, and beauty,' r (I
harmony, and proportion, if there should ever be, as it is
impossible there ever should be, any inconsistence between them." And again, "Though virtue or moral
rectitude does indeed consist in affection to and pursuit
of what is right and  good, as such;  yet, when  we  sit
down in a cool hour, we can neither justify to ourselves
this or any other pursuit, till we are convinced that it
will be for our happiness, or at least not contrary to
it."t
Besides the general system of morality opened above,
our Author in his volume of Sermons has stated with accuracy the difference between self-love and benevolence;
* " Far be it from me," says the e.xcellent Dr T. Balguy (Discourse ix.) "to dispute the reality of a moral principle in the human heart. I feel its existence: I
clearly discern its use and importance. But in no respect is it more important, than
as it suggests the idea of a moral Governor. Let this idea be once effaced, anlld thle
principle of conscience will soon be found weak and ineffectual.  Its influence oil
men's conduct has, indeed, been too muck und- rvalhled by some philosophical inquirers. But ke that influence, while it lasts, more On less, it is not a steady and
permaxent prir:ciple of action. Unhappily we always have it in oulr power to lay it
asleep.-Neglaot alone will suppress and stifle it, and brinls it almost into a state ot
stupefaction. Nor can any thing, less than the terrors of religion, awaken our minds
from this dangerous allt deadly sleep. It can never be a matter of indifference to a
thinking man, whether he is to be happy or miserable beyond the grave."
f Serra. xi.




XXV1                  PREFACE
in opposition to those who, on the one hand, make the
whole of virti.e to consist in benevolence,* and to those
who, on the other, assert that every particular affection
and action is resolvable into self-love. In combating
these opinions, he has shown, I think unanswerably,
that there are the same kind of indications in human
nature, that we were made to promote the happiness of
others, as that we were made to promote our own: Luat
it is no just objection to this, that we have dispositions
to do evil to others as well as good; for we have also
dispositions to do evil as well as good to ourselves, to our
own most important interests even in this life, for the
sake of gratifying a present passion: that the thing to
be lamented is, not that men have too great a regard to
their own real good, but that they have not enough:
that benevolence is not more at variance with or unfriendly to self-love, than any other particular affection
is: and that by consulting the happiness of others a
man is so far from lessening his own, that the very endeavour to do so, though he should fail in the accomplishment, is a source of the highest satisfaction and
peace of mind.t He has also, in passing, animadverted
on the philosopher of Malmsbury, who, in his book "Of
Human Nature," has advanced, as discoveries in moral
science, that benevolence is only the love of power, and
compassion the fear of future calamity to ourselves. And
this our Author has done, not so much with the design of
exposing the false reasoning of Mr Hobbes, but because
on so perverse an account of human nature he has raised a system, subversive of all justice and honesty.+
II. The religious system of Bishop Butler is chiefly
to be collected from the treatise,- entitled, "The Analogy
of Religion, Natural and Revealed, to the Constitution
and Course of Nature."
"All things are double one against another, and God
hath made nothing imperfect."~   On this single observation of the son of Sirach, the whole fabric of our Prelate's
defence of religion, in his Analogy, is raised. Instead
* See the second Dissertation 1" On the Nature of Virtue, at the end of the
Analogy.
t See Serm. i. and xi. and the preface to the volume bf Sermons.
$ See the Notes to Serm. i. and?  ~ Eccies. xlii. 24.




BY THE EDITOR.             Xx1ii
of indulging in idle speculations, how the world might
possibly have been better than it is; or, forgetful of the
difference between hypothesis and fact, attempting to explain the divine economy with respect to intelligent creatures, from preconceived notions of his own; he first inquires what the constitution of nature, as made known
to us in the way of experiment, actually is; and from
this, now seell and acknowledged, he endeavours to form
a judgment of that larger constitution, which religion discovers to us.. If the dispensation of Providence we are
now under, considered as inhabitants of this world, and
having a temporal interest to secure in it, be found, on
examination, to be analogous to, and of a piece with,
that further dispensation, which relates to us as designed
for another world, in which we have an eternal interest,
depending on our behaviour here; if both may be traced
up to the same general laws, and appear to be carried on
according to the same plan of administration; the fair
presumption is, that both proceed from one and the same
Author. And if the principal parts objected to in this
latter dispensation be similar to and of the same kind
with what we. certainly experience under the former; the
objections, being clearly inconclusive in one case, bIecause contradicted by plain fact, must, in all reason, be
allowed to be inconclusive also in the other.
This way of arguing from what is acknowledged to
what is disputed, from things known to other things that
resemble them, from that part of the divine establishment which is exposed to our view to that more important one which lies beyond it, is on all hands confessed
to be just.  By this method Sir Isaac Newton  elas unfolded the system of nature; by the same method Bisl.op
Butler has explained the system of grace; and thus, An
use the words of a writer, whom I quote with pleasure,
"has formed and concluded a happy alliance between
faith and philosophy."'
And although the argument from analogy be allowed
to be imperfect, and by no means sufficient to solve all
difficulties respecting the government of God, and the
designs of his Providence with regard to mankind ("
* Mr AMainwaring's Dissertation, prefixed to his volume of Sermuns.




XXviii              PREFACE
degree of knowledge,;which we are not furnished with
faculties for attaining, at least in the present state); yet
surely it is of importance to learn from it, that the natural and moral world are intimately connected, and parts
of one stupendous whole or system; and that the chief
objections which are brought against religion may be
urged with equal force against the constitution and course
of nature, where they are certainly false in fact. And
this information we may derive from the work before
us; the proper design of which, it may be of use to observe, is not to prove the truth of religion, either natural
or revealed, but to confirm that proof, already known,
by considerations from analogy.
After this account of the method of reasoning employed by our Author, let us now advert to his manner of
applying it, first to the subject of Natural Religion, and
secondly to that of Revealed.
1. The foundation of all our hopes and fears is a future life; and with this the treatise begins. Neither the
reason of the thing, nor the analogy of nature, according
to Bishop Butler, give ground for imagining, that the
unknown event, death, will be our destruction. The
states in which we have formerly existed, in the womb
and in infancy, are not more different from each other
than from that of mature age in which we now exist:
therefore, that we shall continue to exist hereafter, in a
state as different from the present as the present is from
those through which we have passed already, is a presumption favoured by the analogy of nature. All that
we know from reason concerning death, is the effects it
has upon animal bodies: and the frequent instances
among men of the intellectual powers continuing in high
health and vigour, at the very time when a mortal disease
is on the point of putting an end to all the powers of
sensation, induce us to hope that it may have no effect
at all on the human soul, not even so much as to suspend the exercise of its faculties; though, if it have, the
suspension of a power by no means implies its extinction, as sleep or a swoon may convince us.'
The probability of a future state once granted, an ir* Part I. chap. i




BY THE EDITOR.               XXiX
portant question arises, Hlow best to secure our interest
in that state.  We find from what passes daily before us,
that the constitution of nature admits of misery as well
as happiness; that both of these are the consequences of
our own actions; and these consequences we are enabled
to foresee. Therefore, that our happiness or misery in
a future world may depend on our own actions also, and
that rewards or punishments hereafter may follow our
good or ill behaviour here, is but an appointment of the
same sort with what we experience under the divine
government, according to the regular course of nature.*
This supposition is confirmed from another circumstance, that the natural government of God, under which
we now live, is also moral; in which rewards and punishments are the consequences of actions, considered as
virtuous and vicious.  Not that every man is rewarded
or punished here in exact proportion to his desert; for
the essential tendencies of virtue and vice, to produce
happiness and the.contrary, are often hindered from taking effect from accidental causes. However, there are
plainly the rudiments and beginnings of a righteols administration to be discerned in the constitution of nature:
from whence we are led to expect, that these accidental
hindrances will one day be removed, and the rule of distributive justice obtain completely in a more perfect
state. f
The moral government of God, thus established, implies in the notion of it some sort of trial, or a moral
possibility of acting wrong as well as right, in those who
are the subjects of it.  And the doctrine of religion, that
the present life is in fact a state of probation for a future
one, is rendered credible, from its being analogous
throughout to the general conduct of Providence towards
Ils w'ith respect to this world; in which prudence is necessary to secure our temporal interest, just as we are
taught that virtue is necessary to secure our eternal interest; and both are trusted to ourselves.:
But the present life is not merely a state of probation,
implving in it difficulties and danger; it is also a state of
discipline andl improvement; and that both in our tem* Chap. ii.'} Chap. iii.   t  rsp. ir.




XXX                   PREFACE
poral and religious capacity.  Thus childhood is a state
of discipline for youth; youth for manhood; and that foi
old age. Strength of body, and maturity of understand
ing, are acquired by degrees; and neither of them with
out continual exercise and attention on our part, not on.
ly in the beginning of life, but through the whole course
of it. So again with respect to our religious concerns,
the present world is fitted to be, and to good men is in
event, a state of discipline and improvement for a future
one. The several passions and propensions implanted
in our hearts incline us, in a multitude of instances, to
forbidden pleasures: this inward infirmity is increased
by various snares and temptations, perpetually occurring
from without: hence arises the necessity of recollection
and self-government; of withstanding the calls of appetite,
and forming our minds to habits of piety and virtue;
habits, of which we are capable, and which, to creatures
in a state of moral imperfection, and fallen from their
original integrity, must be of the greatest use, as an additional security, over and above the principle of conscience, from the dangers to which we are exposed.*
Nor is the credibility here given, by the analogy of
nature, to the general doctrine of religion, destroyed or
weakened by any notions concerning necessity. Of itself it is a mere word, the sign of an abstract idea; and
as much requires an agent, that is, a necessary agent, in
order to effect any thing, as freedom requires a free
agent. Admitting it to be speculatively true, if considered as influencing practice, it is the same as false: for it
is matter of experience, that, with regard to our present
interest, and as inhabitants of this world, we are treated
as if we were free; and therefore the analogy of nature
leads us to conclude, that, with regard to our future interest, and as designed for another world, we shall be
treated as free also.  Nor does the opinion of necessity,
supposing it possible, at all affect either the general proof
of religion, or its external evidence.t
Still objectionls may be made against the wisdom and
goodness of the divine government, to which analogy,
which can only show the truth or credibility of fact&
* Part i. chap. v..    + Chap. vi




BY THE EDITOR.                 xxxi
affords no answer.  Yet even here analogy is of use, if
it suggest that the divine government is a schemle or
system, and not a number of unconnected acts, and that
this system is also above our comprehension. Now the
government of the natural world appears to be a system
of this kind; with parts, related to each other, and to —
gether composing a whole: in which system  ends are
brought about by the use of means, many of which means,
before experience, would have been suspected to have
had a quite contrary tendency; which is carried on by
general laws, similar causes uniformly producing similar effects: the utility of which general laws, and the inconveniences which would probably arise from the occasional or even secret suspension of them, we are in
some sort enabled to discern; but of the whole we are
incompetent judges, because of the small part which
comes within our view.  Reasoning then from what we
know, it is highly credible, that the government of the
moral world is a system also, carried on by general laws,
and in which ends are accomplished by the intervention
of means; and that both constitutions, the natural and
the moral, are so connected, as to form together but one
scheme.  But of this scheme, as of that of the natural
world taken alone, we are not qualified to judge, on account of the mutual respect of the several parts to each
other and to the whole, and our own incapacity to survey the whole, or, with accuracy, any single part.  All
obrjections therefore to the wisdom and goodness of the
divine government may be founded merely on our iPnorance;t and to such objections our ignorance is the
proper, and a satisfactory answer.n
2. The chief difficulties concerning Natural Religion
being now  removed, our Author proceeds, in the next
place, to that which is Revealed; and as an Introduction
to an inquiry into the Credibility of Christianity, begins
with the consideration of its Importance.
* See a treatise on Divine Benevolellce, l)y Dr Thomas BaIguy, part ii.
f The ignorance of man, is a. fh-ol'ilte doCatriie with Bishop Butler. It occurs in
the 8econd Part of the Analogy; it niakcss Lie suIbjtet of hlis Fifteenth Sermon; andu
we meet with it again in Ihis Charge. Whether sometimes it be not carried tW a
length which is excessive, may admit of doubt.
t Part I. chap. viL




XXXII                               PREFACE
The importanlce of Christianity  appears in two re.
spects. First, in its being a republication of Natural Religion, in its native simplicity, with authority, and with
circumstances of advantage; ascertaining in many instances of moment, what before was only probable, and
particularly confirming the doctrine of a future state of
rewards and punishments.'  Secondly, as revealing a
new dispensation of Providence, originating from the
pure love and mercy of God, and conducted by the mediation of his Son, and the guidance of his Spirit for the
recovery and salvation of mankind, represented in v
state of apostasy and ruin.  This account of Christianity
being admitted to be just, and the distinct offices of these
three divine Persons being once discovered to us, we
are as much obliged in point of duty to acknowledge the
relations we stand in to the Son and Holy Ghost, as our
Mediator and Sanctifier, as we.are obliged in point ol
duty to acknowledge the relation we stand in to God the
Father; although the two formcr of these relations be
learnt from  Revelation only, and in the last we are instructed by the light of nature; the obligation in either
case arising from the offices themselves, and not at all
depending on the manner in which they are made
known to us. t
The presumptions against Revelation in general are,
that it is not discoverable by reason, that it is unlike to
what is so discovered, and that it was introduced and
supported by miracles. But in a scheme so large as
* Admiralble to this purpose are the words of Dr T. Balguy, in the Ninth of his
)iscourses alreadly rferred to, p. xxv.  "Tle (ldoctrilie of a Ife to come, sotme personls will say, is a doctrile of natural religion; Itnd can nlever therefore be properly
alleged to show tlhe importance of revelation.  Tihey julge pellaps trfom  thle f anlle
of the world, that the present system is imperfect; tlly see de+signs ill it, lnot yet
codnjleted; ail(l they think they lhave groulntd tl'r  xpecting another slate, ill which
tilrae (lesigns shall befarther carried oil, andl  roollut to a conclusion, wortly of ill
finite wisdom.  I am i not conlernlvd to disulite tliejtustness of this reasolmillg;  1o01 do
I wviisl to dlispulte it.  But howv far will it reach?  W ill it lead us to tie (hri,;tiln
di,cillte of a jiatlgment.to come?  Will it give us the prospect of an eternity of iappinless?  Notfiinig of all this.  It sliows us only, tl.at, death is inOt thl  r lti of o(lr b('ing; that we are like ly to pass htereafer' into othlr systems, imore fiavo'llo e   t ltlln tlhe
present to tiei great ends of God's providkh21ce, tlhe virtue a:1d thlle happiess. of iis intelligent creatturlls.  13ut ilto what syste'is we ar to i)ne remloved; \ ltat l w.suielles.'re Lo be presented to us, eitiler of plaeasure or paill; what new parts we sIlmtll hlave
to act, land to) wlhat trials anlld temllatioiss we nitMy  et be exposed; on11  ll tilese s1bE)-'cts we know just notlling.  TIaL; our lllapiltss for ever dependls on our cundtzi
ere, is a most important proposilionl. \llicil \we levrlll o(   fi'rom ret-,eaim."
+ Part II. chap) i.




BY THE EDITOR.             XXXi1I
that of the univenre, unbounded in extent and everlastinig in duration, there must of necessity be numberless
circumstances which are beyond the reach of our faculties
to discern, and which can only be known by divine illumination. And both in the natural and moral government of the world, under which we live, we find many
things unlike one to another, and therefore ought not to
wonder if the same unlikeness obtain between things
visible and invisible; although it be far from true, that
revealed religion is entirely unlike the constitution of
nature, as analogy may teach us. Nor is there any thing
incredible in Revelation, considered as miraculous; whether miracles be supposed to have been performed
at the beginning of the world, or after a course of nature
has been established. Not at the beginning of the world;
for then there was'either no course of nature at all, or a
power must have been exerted totally different from
what that course is at present: all men and animals cannot have been born, as they are now; but a pair of each
sort must have been produced at first, in a way altogether unlike to that in which they have been since produced; unless we affirm, that men and animals have existed from eternity in an endless succession; one miracle
therefore at least there must have been at the beginning
of the world, or at the time of man's creation. Not ajf
ter the settlement of a course of nature, on account of miracles being contrary to that course, or, in other words,
contrary to experience; for, in order to know whether
miracles, worked in attestation of a divine religion- be
contrary to experience or not, we ought to bW acquainted
with other cases, similar or parallel to those, in which
miracles are alleged to have been wrought. But where
shall we find such similar or parallel cases P The world
which we inhabit affords none: we know of no extraordinary revelations from God to man, but those recorded
in the Old and New Testament; all of which were established by miracles; it cannot therefore be said, that
miracles are incredible, because contrary to experience,
when all the experience we have is in favour of miracles,
and on the side of religion.* Besides, in reasoning con" "Ill the common affairs of life, common experience is sufficient to direct tis Bu
C




Xxxiv                          PREFACE
cerning miracles, they ought not to be compared wifi
common natural events, but with uncommon appear.
ances, such as comets, magnetism, electricity; which, to
one acquainted only with the usual phenomena of nature,
and the common powers of matter, must, before proof of
their actual existence, be thought incredible.*
The presumption against Revelation in general being
dispatched, objections  against the  Christian  Revelation
in particular, against the scheme of it, as distinguished
from objections against its evidence, are considered
next. Now supposing a revelation to be really given, it
is highly probable beforehand, that it must contain many things appearing to us liable to objections. The acknowledged dispensation of nature is very different from
what we should have expected: reasoning then from analogy, the revealed dispensation, it is credible, would be
also different.   Nor are we in  any  sort judges  at what
time, or in what degree, or manner, it is fit or expedient
for God to instruct us, in things confessedly of the greatest use, either by natural reason, or by supernatural information.   Thus,  arguing   on   speculation   only,  and
without experience, it would seem very unlikely that so
important a remedy as that provided by Christianity, for
the recovery of mankind from ruin, should have been for
so  many ages  withheld; and, when  at last vouchsafed,
should be imparted to so few; and, after it has been  irnparted, should be attended with obscurity and doubt.
And just so we might have argued, before experience,
concerning the remedies provided in nature for bodily
diseases, to which by nature we are exposed: for many
of these were unknown to mankind for a number of ages;
will common experience serve to guide our judgment concerning thefiall and reaemn.p
tion of mankilnd?  From what we see every day, can we explain the cornmeneement,
o1' foretell the dissolution of the world?  To judge of events like these, we should
be conversant in the history of other planets; should -be distinctly informed of God's
various dispensations to all the different orders of rational beings. Instead then of
grollnding  our religious opinions on what we cal experience, let us apply to a more
certain guide, let us hearken to the testimony of God himself.'rue credibility of
humnan testimony, and the condluct of human agents, are sulbjects perfectly within the
reach of our natural faculties; and wte ought to desire no firmer ftiundation for ouw
belief of religion, than for the judgments we form  in the common affairs of lif'
where we see a little plain testimony easily outweighs the most specious coinjecture,
and not seldom even stronll probabilities."  Dr Balguy's Fourth Charge.  See also
Un excellent pamphlet, entitiled, " R~emarks on Mr Hume's Essay on the NaItrUe4
klistory of Religion," sect. 5; and the Sixth of Dr Powell's Discourses.
* C>''. ii.




BY THE EDITOR.            XXXV
are known but to few now; some important ones probably not discovered yet; and those which are, neither
certain in their application, nor universal in their use:
and the same mode of reasoning that would lead us to
expect they should have been so, would lead us to expect that the necessity of them should have been superseded, by there being no diseases; as the necessity of the
Christian scheme, it may be thought, might also have
been superseded, by preventing the fall of man, so that
he should not have stood in need of a Redeemer at all.*
As to objections against the wisdom and goodness of
Christianity, the same answer may be applied to them
as was to the like objections against the constitution of
nature.  For here also, Christianity is a scheme or economy, composed of various parts, forming a whole; in
which scheme means are used for the accomplishing (.'
ends; and which is conducted by general laws, of all of
which we know as little as we do of the constitution of
nature. And tile seeming want of wisdom or goodness
in this system is to be ascribed to the same cause, as thle
like appearances of defects in the natural system; our
inability to discern the whole scheme, and our ignorance
of the relation of those parts which are discernible to
others beyond our view.
The objections against Christianity as a matter of fact,
and against the wisdom and goodness of it, having been
obviated together, the chief of them are now to be considered distinctly.  One of these, which is levelled
against the entire system itself, is of this sort: the restoration of mankind, represented in Scripture as the
great design of the Gospel, is described as requiring a
long series of means, and persons, and dispensations,
before it can be brought to its completion; whereas the
whole ought to have been effected at once. Now every
thing we see in the course of nature shows the folly of
this objection.  For in the natural course of Providence,
ends are brought about by means, not operating immediately and at once, but deliberately, and in a way of progression; one thing being subservient to another, this to
somewhat further.  The change of seasons, the ripening
* Chhp. iii.
C>




nXXVi               PREFACE
of fruits, the growth of vegetable and animal bodies, are
instances of this. And therefore, that the same progressive method should be followed in the dispensation
of Christianity, as is observed in the common dispensation of Providence, is a reasonable expectation, justified
by the analogy of nature.'
Another circumstance objected to in the Christian
scheme is the appointment of a Mediator, and the saving of the world through him. But the visible government of God being actually administered in this way, or
by the mediation and instrumentality of others, there
can be no general presumption against an appointment
of this kind, against his invisible government being exercised in the same manner. We have seen already,
that with regard to ourselves this visible government is
carried on by rewards and punishments; for happiness
aPnd misery are the consequences of our own actions,
considered as virtuous and vicious; and these conse —
-unences we are enabled to foresee. It might have been
imagined, before consulting experience, that after we
had rendered ourselves liable to misery by our own ill
conduct, sorrow for what was past, and behaving well
for the future, would, alone and of themselves, have exempted us from deserved punishment, and restored us to
the divine favour. But the fact is otherwise; and real
reformation is often found to be of no avail, so as to secure the criminal from poverty, sickness, infamy, and
death, the never-failing attendants on vice and extravagance, exceeding a certain degree. By the course of
nature then it appears, God does not always pardon a
~inner on his repentance. Yet there is provision made,
o aven in nature, that the miseries, which men bring on
t lhemselves by unlawful indulgences, may in many cases
be mitigated, and in some removed; partly by extraordinary exertions of the offender himself, but more especially and frequently by the intervention of others,
who voluntarily, and from motives of compassion, submit
to labour and sorrow, such as produce long and lasting
inconveniences to themselves, as the means of rescuing
another from the wretched effects of former imprudences.
* Chap. ii.




BY THIE EDITOR.                   XXYi
Vic arious punishment, therefore, or one person's suffer.
i,::.   contributing to the relief of another, is a providential
disposition in the economy. of nature:* and it ought not
to be matter of surprise, if by a method analogous to this
we be redeemed from sin and misery, in the economy
of grace. That mankind at present are in a state of degradation, different from  that in which  they were  origihally created, is the very ground of the  Christian revelation, as contained in the Scriptures.   Whether we acquiesce in the account, that our being placed in such a
state is owing to the crime of our first parents, or choose
to ascribe it to any other cause, it makes no difference
as to our condition: the vice and unhappiness of the
world are still there, notwithstanding all our supposi.tions: nor is it Christianity that hath put us into this
state.   We learn also from  the  same  Scriptures, what
experience and the use of expiatory sacrifices from thle
most early times might have taught us, that repentance
alone is not sufficient to prevent the fatal consequences
of past transgressions: but that still there is room for
mercy, and that repentance shall be available, though
not of itself, yet through the mediation of a divine Person, the Messiah; who, from  the sublimest principles of
compassion, when we were dead in trespasses and sins,t
suffered and died, the innocent for the guilty, the just jbr
the unjust,  that we might have redemption  through  his
blood, even the forgiveness of sins.~ In what way the
death of Christ was of that efficacy it is said to be, in
procuring the reconciliation of sinners, the Scriptures
have not explained; it is enough that the doctrine is revealed;  that it is  not  contrary  to  any  truths  which
reason and experience teach us; and that it accords in
* Dr Arthur Ashley Sykes, from whose writings some good may be collected out of
a multitude of things of a contrary tendency, in what he is pleased to call "Tile
Scripture Doctrine of Redemption," (see the observations on the texts cited in his
first chapter, and also in chapters the fifth and sixth,) opposes what ia here advanced
by Bishop Butler; quoting his words, but without mentioning his name. If what is
said above be not thought a sufficient answer to the objections of this author, the
reader may do well to consult a Charge " On the-Use mid Abuse of Philosophy in
the Study of Religion," by the late Dr Powell; who seems to me to have had the
observations of Dr Sykes in his view, where he is corfiting the reasonings of certain
philosophizing Divines against the doctrine of the Atonement. Powell's Discours.
Charge Iil. p. 342-848.
t Ephes ii, 1.       i 1 Pet. iii. 18.        Colos, i. 14.




Xxxviii               PREFACE
perfect harmony with the usual method of the divine
conduct in the government of the world.*
Again, it hath been said, that if the Christian revelation were true, it must have been universal, and could.
not have been left upon doubtful evidence. Buc God,
in his natural providence, dispenses his gifts in great
variety, not only among creatures of the same species,
itut to the same individuals also at different times. Had
the Christian revelation been universal at first, yet, from
the diversity of men's abilities, both of mind and body,
their various means of improvement, and other external
advantages, some persons must soon have been in a situation, with respect to religious knowledge, much superior to that of others, as much perhaps as they are at
present: and all men will be equitably dealt with at last;
and to whom little is given, of him little will be required.
Then as to the evidence for religion being left doubtful,
difficulties of this sort, like difficulties in practice, afford
scope and opportunity for a virt-luous exercise of the understanding, and dispose the mind to acquiesce and rest
satisfied with any evidence that is real.  In the daily
commerce of life, men are obliged to act upon great un
certainties, with regard to success in their temporal pursuits: and the case with regard to religion is parallel.
However, though religion be not intuitively true, the
proofs of it which we havre are amply sufficient in reason
to induce us to embrace it; and dissatisfaction with those
proofs may possibly be men's own fault.t
Nothing remains but to attend to the positive evidence
there is for the truth of Christianity. Niow, besides its direct and fundamental proofs, which are miracles and prophecies, there are many collateral circumstances, which
may be united into one view, and all together may be considered as making up one argument. In this way oi
treating the subject, the revelation, whether real or otherwise, may be supposed to be wholly historical: the design of which appears to be, to give an account of the
condition of religion, and its professors, with a concise
narration of the political state of things, as far as religion
is affected bI: it, during a great length of time, near six
* Chap. v.'         Chap. vi




BY THE EDITOR.                XXXiX
thousand )years of which are already past.  More particularly it comprehends an account of God's entering into
covenant with ono: lttion, the Jws-s, t'},?>t he would be
their God, and that they should be his people; of his
often interposing in their affairs; giving them  the promise, and afterwards the possession, of a flourishing
country; assuring them  of the greatest national prosperity, in case of their obedience, and threatening the severest national punishment, in case they forsook him, and
joined in the idolatry of their Pagan neighbours. It
contains also a prediction of a particular person to appear in the fulness of time, in whom all the promises of
God to the Jews were to be fulfilled: and it relates, that,
at the time expected, a person did actually appear, assuming to be the Saviour foretold; that he worked various miracles among them, in confirmation of his divine
authority; and, as was foretold also, was rejected and
put to death by the very people who had long- desired
and waited for his coming; but that his religion, in spite
of all opposition, was established in the world by his disciples, invested with supernatural powers for that pur..
pose; of the fate and fortunes of which religion there is
a prophetical description, carried down to the end of
time. Let any one now, after reading the above history,
and not knowing whether the whole were not a fiction,
be supposed to ask, Whether all that is here related be
true? and instead of' a direct answer, let himt be informed of the several acknowledged facts, which are found
to correspond to it in real life; and then let him compare the history and facts together, and observe the astonishing coincidepce of both: such a joint review must
appear to him of very great weight, and to amount to
evidence somewhat more than human.  And unless the
whole series, and every particular circumstance contained
in it, can be thought to have arisen from accident, the
truth of Christianity is proved.*'The view here given of the moral and religious sysChap.. ii. To the Annaiogy are. subjoined twe Tivsrtattnsu, boll originally in
serted in the body of the work. One; oil Personal Identity, in which are coittillne
somle stritures on AIr Locke, whlo asserts that consciousntss maKes or constituter,
personal id-lentity   wh;vlereas, as onr Antli:or  ol)ie'vles, colSciousntss makes only person:i;ility, or is necesaory to the idea of a personll, i. e. a i t'tlligelnt   beinlg, Wut




XI               PREFACE BY THie EDRMTOR.
terns of Bishop Butler, it will immediately be percei- ed,
is chiefly intended for younger students, especially for
students in Divinity; to whom it is hoped it may be of
use, so as to encourage them to peruse, with proper diligence, the original works of the Author himself. For it
may be necessary to observe, that neither of the volumes
of this excellent Prelate are addressed to those who
read for amusement, or curiosity, or to get rid of time.
All subjects are not to be comprehended with the same
ease; and morality and religion, when treated as sciences,
each accompanied with difficulties of its own, can neither
of them be understood as they ought without a very
peculiar attention. But morality and religion are not
merely to be studied as sciences, or as being speculatively
true; they are  to be regarded  in  another and  higher
light, as the rule of life and manners, as containing
authoritative directions by which to regulate our faith
and practice. And in this view, the infinite importance
of them, considered, it can never be an indifferent matter
whether they be received or rejected. For both claim to
be the voice of God; and whether they be  so  or not,
cannot. be known, till their claims be impartially examrined. If they indeed come from Him, we are bound to
conform to them at our peril; nor is it left to our choice,
whether we will submit to the obligations they impose
upon us or not; for submit to them  we must, in  such a
sense, as to  incur the punishments denounced by both
against wilful disobedience to their injunctions.
presupposes, and therefore cannot const;tute, personal identity: just as knowledge
presupposes truth, hut does not constitute it. Consciousiless of past actions does iudeed show us the identity of ourselves, or gives us a certai~n assurance that we are
the same persons or living agents now, wlhich we  were at the time to which our re
membrance can look back: but still we should be the san:e persons as we were,
though this consciousness of what is past were won ing, tlholgh eql that had betn donle
by us formerly were forgotten; unless it be true, thett'Ie persoe has cxi-ted a fingle
moment beyond what he can remember. The other Dis.ertatik? ir  t ~A NAqure
rf Virtue which properly belongs tc lhe i oral system of tour At iqqr  Agore' ex.
p}&ined.




THE
LIFEI OF DR BUTLER.
Dn JOSEPH BUTLER, a Prelate of the most distinguished
character and abilities, was born at Wantage, in Berkshire, in the year 1692. His father, Mr Thomas ButLr, who was a substantial and reputable shopkeeper in
that town, observing in his son Joseph an excellent
genius and inclination for learning, determined to educate him for the ministry, among the Protestant Dissenters of the Presbyterian denomination. For this purpose, after he had gone through a proper course of
grammatical literature, at the free grammar school of his
native place, under the care of the Rev. Mr Philip Barton, a Clergyman of the Church of England, he was sent
to a Dissenting academy, then kept at Gloucester, but
which was soon afterwards removed to Tewkesbury.
The principal tutor of this academy was Mr Jones, a
man of uncommon abilities and knowledge, who had the
honour of training up several scholars, who became of
great eminence, both in the Established Church and
among the Dissenters.  At Tewkesbury Mr Butler
made an extraordinary progress in the study of Divinity;
of which he gave a remarkable proof, in the letters addressed by him, while he resided at Tewkesbury, to Dr
Samuel Clarke, laying before him the doubts that had
arisen in his mind, concerning the conclusiveness of
some arguments in the Doctor's demonstration of the
being and attributes of God. The first of these letters
was dated the 4th of November, 1713; and the sagacity
and depth of thought displayed in it, immediately excited Dr Clarke's particular notice. This condescension
encouraged Mr Butler to address the Doctor again upon
the same subject, which likewise was answered by him;
and the correspondence being carried on in three other
* Ile mas the youngest of eight children.




Xblli. THE LIFE OF
letters, the whole was annexed to the celebrated treatise
before mentioned, and the collection has been retained
in all the subsequent editions of that work. The management of this correspondence was entrusLed by Mr'
Butler to his friend and fellow-pupil, Mr Secker, who,
in order to conceal the affair, undertook to convey the
letters tc the post-off. -e at Gloucester, and to bring back
Dr Clarke's answers. When Mr Butler's name was discovered to the Doctor, the candour, modesty, and good
sense, with which he had written, immediately procured
him the friendship of that eminent and excellent man.
Our young student was not, however, during his continnance at Tewkesbury, solely employed in metaphysical
speculations and inquiries. Another subject of his serious consideration was, the propriety of his becoming a
Dissenting minister. Accordingly, he entered into an
examination of the principles of non-conformity; the result of which was, such a dissatisfaction with them, as
determined him to conform to the Established Chlurch.
This intention was, at first, disagreeable to his father,
who endeavoured to divert him from his purpose; and,
with that view, called in the assistance of some eminent
Presbyterian Divines; but finding his son's resolution to
be fixed, he at length suffered him to be removed to Oxford, where he was admitted a commoner of Oriel College, on the 17th of March, 17 14. At what time he took
Orders doth not appear, nor who the Bishop was by
whom he was ordained; but it is certain that he entered
into the Church soon after his admission at Oxford, if
it be true, as is asserted, that he sometimes assisted Mr
Edward Talbot in the divine service, at his living of
HIendred, near Wantage. With this gentleman, who
was the second son of Dr William Talbot, successively
Bishop of Oxford, Salisbury, and Durham, Mr Butler
formed an intimate friendship at Orlel College; which
friendship laid. the foundation of all his subsequent preferments, anl procured for him a very honourable situation, when 1Ve was onvly twenty-six years of aae. For it
was in 1718 that, at the recommendation of Mr Talbot,
in conjunction with that of Dr Clarke, he was appointed
by Sir Joseph Jekyll to be r,-racher at the Rolls. This




DR BUTLER.              xii
was three years before he had taken any degree at the
University, where he did not go out Bachelor of Law
till the 10th of June, 1721, which, however, was as soon
as that degree could suitably.be conferred upon hinl
dr Butler continued -t the Rolls till 1726; in the beginning of which year he published, in one volume, octavo, "Fifteen Sermons preached at that Chapel."  In
the mean while, by the patronage of Dr Talbot, Bishop
of Durham, to whose notice he had been recommended
(together with Mr Benson and Mr Secker) by Mr Edward Talbot, on his death-bed, our Author had been.presented first to the rectory of Haughton, near Darlington,
and afterwards to that of Stanhope, in the same diocese.
The benefice of Haughton was given to him in 1722, and
that of Stanhope in 1725. At Haughton there was a
necessity for rebuilding a great part of the parsonagehouse, and Mr Butler had neither money nor talents for
that work. Mr Secker, therefore, who had always the interest of his friends at heart, and had acquired a very considerable influence with Bishop Talbot, persuaded that
Prelate to give Mr Butler, in exchange for Haughton,
the rectory of Stanhope, which was not only free front
any such incumbrance, but was likewise of much supejnor value, being indeed one of the richest parsonages in
England. Whilst our Author continued preacher at the
Rolls Chapel, he divided his time between his duty in
town and country; but when he quitted the Rolls, he
resided during seven years, wholly at Stanhope, in the
conscientious discharge of every obligation appertaining
to a good parish priest. This retirement, however, was
too solitary for his disposition, which had in it a natural
cast of gloominess. And though his recluse hours were
by no means lost, either to private improvement or public utility, yet he felt at times, very painfully, the -want
of that select society of friends to which he had been accustomed, and which could inspire him with the greatest
cheerfulness. Mr Secker, therefore, who knew this, was
extremely anxious to draw himn out into a more active
and conspicuous scene, and omitted no opportunity of
expressing this desire to such as he thought capable of
promoting it. Having hinmsclr been appointed King's




xliv               THE LIFE OF
Chaplain in 1732, he took occasion, in a conversation
which he had the honour of holding with Queen Caroline, to mention to her his friend Mr Butler.  The
Queen said she thought he had been dead. Mr Secker
assured her he was not. Yet her Majesty afterwards
asked Archbishop Blackburn, if he was not deadl: his
answer was, " No, madam; but he is buried." Mr Seeker continuing his purpose of endeavouring to bring his
friend out of his retirement, found means, upon Mr
Charles Talbot's being made Lord Chancellor, to have
Mr Butler recommended to him for his Chaplain. His
Lordship accepted, and sent for him; and this promotion calling him to Town, he took Oxford in his way, and
was admitted there to the degree of Doctor of Law, on
the 8th of December, 1733. The Lord Chancellor, who
gave him also a prebend in the church of Rochester, had
consented that he should reside at his parish of Stanhope
one half of the year.
Dr Butler being thus brought back into the world, his
merit and his talents soon introduced him to particular
notice, and paved the way for his rising to those high
dignities which he afterwards enjoyed. In 1736 he was
appointed Clerk of the Closet to Queen Caroline; and,
in the same year, he presented to her Majesty a copy ol
his excellent Treatise, entitled, "The Analogy of Religion, Natural and Revealed, to the Constitution and
Course of Nature." His attendance upon his Royal
Mistress, by her especial command, was from seven to
nine in the evening every day: and though this particular relation to that excellent and learned Queen was soon
determined by her death, in 1737, yet he had been so
effectually recommended by her, as well as by the late
Lord Chancellor Talbot, to his Majesty's favour, that in
the next year he was raised to the highest order of the
Ch(urch, by a nomination to the bishopric of Bristol; to
which see he was consecrated on the 3d of Decembei
1738. King George II. not being satisfied with this
proof of his regard to Dr Butler, promoted him, in 1740,
to the Deanery of St Paul's, London, into which he was
instdlled on the 24th of May in that year. Finding the
derands of this dignity to be incompatible with his pa



DR BUTLER.               xlv
rish duty at, Stanhope,. he immediately resigned that rich
benefice. Besides our Prelate's unremitted attention to
his peculiar obligations, he was called upon to preach
several discourses on public occasions, which were afterwards separately printed, and have since been annexed to the latter editions of the Sermons at the Rolls Chapel. In 1746, upon the death of Dr Egerton, Bishop of
Hereford, Dr Butler was made Clerk of the Closet to the
King; and, on the 16th of October 1750, he received another distinguished mark of his Majesty's favour, by being translated to the see of Durham. This was on the
16th of October in that year, upon the decease of Dr Edward Chandler. Our Prelate being thus appointed to
preside over a diocese with which he had long been connected, delivered his first, and indeed his last Charge to
his Clergy, at his primary visitation in 1751. The principal object of it was " External Religion." The Bishop
having observed, with deep concern, the great and growing neglect of serious piety in the kingdom, insisted
strongly on the usefulness of outward forms and institutions, in fixing and preserving a sense of devotion and
duty in the minds of men. In doing this, he was thought
by several persons to speak too favourably of Pagan and
Popish ceremonies, and to countenance, in a certain degree, the cause of superstition. Under that apprehension,
an able and spirited writer, who was understood to be a
Clergyman of the Church of England, published, in 1752,
a pamphlet, entitled, "A Serious Inquiry into the Use
and Importance of External Religion; occasioned by
some Passages in the Right Rev. the Lord Bishop of
Durham's Charge to fhe Clergy of that Diocese;-Humbly addressed to his Lordship." Many persons, however, and we believe the greater part of the Clergy of the
diocese, did not thirnk our Prelate's Charge so exceptionable as it appeared to this author. The Charge, being
printed at Durh?.rn, and having never been annexed to
any of Dr Butler's other works, is now become extreme5y scarce; and it is observable, that it is the only one
of his publications which ever produced him a direct literary antagonist.
By this promotion, our worthy Bishop was furnished




xlv;               THE LIFE OF
with ample means of exerting the virtue of charity; a
virtue which eminently abounded in him, and the ex-rc:isc of' which was his highest delight.  But this gratification he did not long enjoy. He had been but a short time
seated in his new bishopric, when his health began visibly to decline; and having been complimented, during his
indisposition, upon account of his great resignation to the
Divine will, he is said to have expressed some regret,
that he should be taken from the present world so soon
after he had been rendered capable of becoming much
more useful in it. In his illness he was carried to Bristol, to try the waters of that place; but these proving ineffectual, he removed to Bath, where, being past recovery,
he died on the 16th of June, 1752. His corpse was conveyed to Bristol, and interred in the cathedral there,
where a monument, with an inscription, is erected to his
memory.
On the greatness of Bishop Butler's character we need
not enlarge; for his profound knowledge, and the prodigious strength of his mind, are amply displayed in his
incomparable writings. His piety was of the most serious and fervent, and, perhaps, somewhat of the ascetic
kind.  His benevolence was warm, generous, and diffusive. Whilst he was Bishop of Bristol, he expended, in
repairing and improving the episcopal palace, four thousand pounds, which is said to have been more than the
whole revenues of the bishopric amounted to, during his
continuance in that see. Besides his private benefactions,
he was a contributor to the infirmary at Bristol, and a
subscriber to three of the hospitals at London.  He was
likewise a principal promoter, though not the first found.er, of the infirmary at Newcastle, in Northumberland.
In supporting the hospitality and dignity of the rich and
powerful diocese of Durham, he was desirous of imitating
the spirit of his patron, Bishop Talbot.  In this spirit he
set apart three days every week for the reception and entertainment of the principal gentry of the country. Nor
were even the Clergy w-ho had the poorest benefices neglected by him. lie not only occasionally invited them
to dine with him, but condescended to visit them at their
respective parishes.' By his will he left five hundred




DR RUrLER.                            XIVli
pounds to the Society for propagating the Gospel in Foreign Parts, and some legacies to his friends and domestics. His executor and residuary legatee was his chlap.
lain, the  Rev. Dr Nathanael Forster, a divine  of distinguished literature. Bishop Butler was never married.
Soon after his decease, the following lines, by way of
epitaph, were written corncerning him; and were printed
first, if we recollect aright, in the London Magazine.
Beneath this marble Butler lies entomb'd,
Who, with a soul inflamed by love divine,
His life in presence of his God consumed,
Like the bright lamps before the holy shrine.'lis aspect pleasing, mind with learning fraught
His eloquence was like a chain of gold,
That the wild passions of mankind controll'd;
Vierit, wherever to be found, he sought.
Desire of transient riches he had none;
These he, with bounteous hand, did well dispense:
Bent to fulfill the ends of Providence;
His heart still fix'd on an immortal crown.
His heart a mirror was, of purest kind,
Where the bright image of his Maker shined;
Reflecting faithful to the throne above,
Th' Irradiant glories of the Mystic Dove.
THE tollowing Epitaph, said to be written by Dr Nathanael Forster, is inscribed on a flat marble stone, in the
cathedral church of Bristol, placed over the spot where
the remains of Bishop Butler are deposited; and which,
as it is now almost obliterated, it may be worth while here
to preserve.
H. S.
Reverendus admodullm in Christo Pater
JOSEPIHUS BUTLER, LL.D.
Htljusce primo Dl)irceseos
Deinde Dunelmlensis Episcopus.
Qualie quentusque Vir erat
Sua libentissime agilovit Wtas:
Et si quid Presuli aut Scriptori ad famam valant
Mens altissirma,
Ingenii perspicacis et subacti Vis,
bnimusPque pius, simplex, candidus, lbe}raisi
Mortui haud facile evanescet memorta
Obiit Bathonia. 16 Kalend. Julii,
~A. D. 1752.
Annos natus n,'




INTROD UCTION.
PROBABLE evidence is essentially distinguished from demonstrative by this, that it admits of degrees; and of all
variety of them, from the highest moral certainty, to the
very lowest presumption. We cannot indeed say a thing
is probably true upon one very slight presumption for
it; because, as there may be probabilities on both sides
of a question, there may be some against it; and though
there be not, yet a slight presumption does not beget
that degree of conviction, which is implied in saying a
thing is probably true. But that the slightest possible
presumption is of the nature of a probability, appears
from hence; that such low presumption often repeated,
will amount even to moral certainty. Thus a man's having observed the ebb and flow of the tide to-day, affords
some sort of presumption, though the lowest imaginable,
that it may happen again to-morrow: but the observation of this event for so many days, and months, and
ages together, as it has been observed by mankind, gives
us a full assurance that it will.
That which chiefly constitutes Probability is expressed
in the word Likely, i. e. like some truth,* or true event;
like it, in itself, in its evidence, in some more or fewer
of its circumstances. For when we determine a thing
to be probably true, suppose that an event has or will
come to pass, it is from the mind's remarking in it a
likeness to some other event, which we have observed
has come to pass. And this observation forms, in numberless daily instances, a presumption, opinion, or fill)
conviction, that such event hbs or will come to pass; according as the observation is, that the like event has
sometimes, most commonly, or always, so far as our observation reaches, come to pass at like distances of time,
or place, or upon like occasions.  Hence arises the belief, that a child if' it lives twenty years, will grow up to
* Verisimile.




INTRODUCTION.                X Ix
the stature and strength of a man; that food will.ontribute to the preservation of its life, and the want of it for
such a number of days, be its certain destruction.  So
likewise the rule and measure of our hopes and fears
concerning the success of our pursuits; our expectations
that others will act so and so in such circumstances; and
our judgment that such actions proceed from such principles; all these rely upon our having observed the like
to what we hope, fear, expect, judge; I say, upon our
having observed the like, either with respect to others
or ourselves. And thus, whereas the prince* who had
always lived in a warm climate, naturally concluded in
the way of analogy, that there was no such thing as
water's becoming hard, because he had always observed
it to be fluid and yielding: we, on the contrary, from
analogy conclude, that there is no presumption at all
against this: that it is supposable there may be frost in
England any given day in January next; probable that
there will on some day of the month; and that there is
a moral certainty, i. e. ground for an expectation without
any doubt of it, in some part or other of the winter.
Probable evidence, in its very nature, affords but an
imperfect kind of information; and is to be considered
as relative only to beings of limited capacities.  For nothing which is the possible object of knowledge, whether
past, present, or future, can be probable to an infinite
Intelligence; since it cannot but be discerned absolutely
as it is in itself, certainly true, or certainly false.  But
to us, probability is the very guide of life.
From these things it follows, that in questions of difficulty, or such as are thought so, where more satisfac-.
tory evidence cannot be had, or is not seen; if the result
of examination be, that there appears upon the whole,
any the lowest presumption on one side, and none on
the other, ox a greater presumption on one side, though
in the lowest degree greater; this determines the question, even in matters of speculation; and in matters of
practice, will lay us under an absolute and formal obligation, in point of prudence and of interest, to act upon
tspat presumption or low probability, though it be so low
* The story is told by Mr Locke in the  Chapter of Probathility.
lb




INTRODUCTION.
ts -oJ leave tile mind in very great doubt which is tie!rut h.  l'or suieiy a man is as really bound in prudence
Lo do what upon the whole appears, according to the
Lteslt f his judgment, to be for his happiness, as what
ilc certainly knows to be so. Nay further, in questions
tf great consequence, a reasonable man will think it concerns him to remark lower probabilities and presumptions than these; such as amount to no more than showing one side of a question to be as supposable and credible as the other: nay, such as but amount to much less
even than this.  For numberless instances might be
mentioned respecting the common pursuits of life, where
a man would be thought, in a literal sense, distracted~
who would not act, and with great application too, not
only upon an even chance, but upon much less, and
where the probability or chance was greatly against his
succeeding.It is not my design to inquire further into the nature,
the foundation, and measure of probability; or whence
it proceeds that likeness should beget that presumption,
opinion, and full conviction, which the human mind is
formed to receive from it, and which it does necessarily
produce in every one; or to guard against the errors, to
which reasoning from analogy is liable. This belongs to
the subject of Logic; and is a part of that subject which
has not yet been thoroughly considered. Indeed I shall
not take upon me to say, how far the extent, compass,
and force, of analogical reasoning, can be reduced to
general heads and rules; and the whole be formed into
a system.  But though so little in this way has beei
atteempted by those who have treated of our intellectua.
powers, and the exercise of them; this does not hinder
but that we may be, as we unquestionably are, assured,
that analogy is of weight, in various degrees, towards
determining our judgment and. our practice. Nor dotes
it in any wise cease to be of weight in those cases, because
persons, either giver to dispute, or who require things
to be stated with greater exactness than our faculties appear t. admit of in practical matters, may find other
cases in. which it is not easy to say, whether it be, or be
* See Part II. Chap. vi




INTRODUCTION.                  li
not, of any weight; or instances of seeming analogies,
which are really of none. It is enough to the present
purpose to observe, that this general way of arguing is
evidently natural, just, and conclusive. For there is no
man can make a question but that the sun will rise tomorrow and be seen, where it is seen at all, in the figure
of a circle, and not in that of a square.
Hence, namely from analogical reasoning, Origen"l has
with singular sagacity observed, that he who believes the
Scripture to have proceeded from him who is the Author of
Nature, may well expect to find the same sort of difficulties
in it, as arefound in the constitution of Nzatlure.  And in
a like way of reflection it may be adied, that he who
denies the Scripture to have been  from God upon account of these difficulties, may, fcei inih very same reason
deny the world to have been formed by him.  On the
other hand, if there be anl a:laicgy or likeness between
that system of things and (dispensation of Providence,
which Revelation infiorms u, of, and that system of things
and dispensation of PFrJvldence, which Experience together with Reason. jlfJrmns us of, i. e. the known course
of Nature; this is a presumption, that they have both
the same author arid cause; at least so far as to answer
objections agai.srt' the former's being from God, drawn
from any thi:lg which is analogical or similar to what is in
the latter, which is acknowledged to be from him; for an
Author of Nature is here supposed.
Frr:.,ing our notions of the constitution and governmr-nt csf the world upon reasoning, without foundatiorn
for the principles which we assume, whether from the attributes of God, or any thing else, is building a world upon
hypothesis, like Des Cartes. Forming our notions upon
reasoning from principles which are certain, but applied
to cases to which we have no ground to apply themn (like
those who explain the structure of the human body, and
the nature of diseases and medicines from  mere mathematics without sufficient dal'a.) is an error much akin to
the former: since what is assumed in order to make the
* Xer pi ro0 y rwy s ro' uzar. m t P  i o calS r CO 6xo.o E.I C- ne
ir3s oua,  eria 6o ei eseo; i XTn;,in' - i.r; charrir    s  >o  ro wt srs   xbr AinyaV   O   %-r   ire
rse Ina yAadrz. Philocal. p.'23. Ed. Cant,
D) 2




hii iINTRODUCTION.
reasoning applicalle, is Hypothesis.  But it must be al.
lowed just, to join abstract reasonings with the observation of facts, and argue from such facts as are known, to
others that are like them; from that part of the Divine
government over intelligent creatures which comes under
our view, to that larger and more general government
over them which is beyond it; and from what is present,
to collect what is likely, credible, or not incredible, will
be hereafter.
This method then of concluding and determining being practical, and what, if we will act at all, we cannot
but act upon in the common pursuits of life; being evidently conclusive, in various degrees, proportionable to
the degree and exactness of the whole analogy or likeness; and having so great authority for its introduction
into the subject of religion, even revealed religion; my
design is to apply it to that subject in general, both natural and revealed: taking for proved, that there is an intelligent Author of Nature, and natural Governor of the
world. For as there is no presumption against this prior
to the proof of it: so it has been often proved with accumulated evidence; from this argument of analogy and
final causes; from  abstract reasonings; from  the most
ancient tradition and testimnony; and from the general
consent of mankind.  Nor dues it appear, so far as I car
find, to be denied by the generality of those who profess
themselves dissatisfied with the evidence of religion.
As there are some, who, instead of thus attending t(
what is in fact the constitution of Nature, form their no,
tions of God's government upon hypothesis: so ther(
are others, who indulge themselves in vain and idle speculations, how the world might possibly have been framed
otherwise than it is; and upon supposition that things
might, in imagining that they should, have been disposed
and carried on after a better model, than what appeari
in the present disposition and conduct of them.  Sup.
pose now a person of such a turn of mind, to go on witIl
his rre-eries, till he had at length fixed upon some parti-.
cular planT of Nature, as appearing to him  the best —
t e sIuall scarce be thought guilty of detraction agailns
hurman understanding, if core should say, even befo.re



INTRODUCTION.               liii
hand, that the plan which this speculative person wouid
fix upon, though he were the wisest of the sons of mei,
probably would not be the very best, even according to
his own notions of best; whether he thought that tb be
so, which afforded occasions and motives for the exercise of the greatest virtue, or which was productive of
the greatest happiness, or that these two were necessarily connected, and run up into one and the same plan.
However, it may not be amiss, once for all, to see what
would be the amount of these emendations and imaginary improvements upon the system of nature, or how far
they would mislead us. And it seems there could be no
stopping, till we came to some such conclusions as these:
that all creatures should at first be made as perfect and
as happy as they were capable of ever being: that nothing, to be sure, of hazard or danger should be put upon
them to do; some indolent persons would perhaps think
nothing at all: or certainly, that effectual care should be
taken, that they should, whether necessarily or not, yet'
eventually and in fact, always do what was right and
most conducive to happiness, which would be thought
easy for infinite power to effect; either by not giving
them any principles which would endanger their going
wrong; or by laying the right motive of action in every
instance before their minds conotinuallv in so strong a
manner, as would never fail of inducing them to act
conformably to it: and that the whole method of government by punishments should be rejected as absurd; as an
awkward round-about method of carrying things on;
nay, as contrary to a principal purpose, for which it
would be supposed creatures were made, namely, happiness.
Now, without considering what is to be said in particular to the several parts of this train of folly and extravagance; what has been above intimated, is a full direct
general answer to it, namely, thlat we mav see beforehand
that we have not faculties for this kind of speculation.
For though it be adrnitted that, fromn the first principles
of our nature, we unavoidably judge or determine some
ends to be absolutely in themselves preferable to others,
and that the ends now mentioned, or if they run up




INTRODUCTION.
into one, that this one is absolutely the best; ard consequently that we must conclude the ultimate end design.
ed, in the constitution of Nature and conduct of Providence, is the most virtue and happiness possible; yet
we are far from being able to judge what particular
disposition of things would be most friendly and assistant to virtue; or what means might be absolutely neces.
sary to produce the most happiness in a system of such
extent as our own world may be, taking in all that is
past and to come, though we should suppose it detached
from the whole of things.  Indeed we are so far fromi
being able to judge of this, that we are not judges what
may be the necessary means of raising and conducting
one person to the highest perfection and happiness ot
his nature.  Nay, even in the little affairs of the present
life, we find men of different educations and ranks are
not competent judges of the conduct of each other. Our
whole nature leads us to ascribe all moral perfection to
God, and to deny all imperfection of him. And this will
for ever be a practical proof of his moral character, to
such as will consider what a practical proof is; because
it is the voice of God speaking in us. And from hence
we conclude, that virtue must be the happiness, and vice
the misery, of every creature; and that regularity and
order and right cannot but prevail finally in a universe
under his government. But we are in no sort judges,,
what are the necessary means of accomplishing this end.
Let us then, instead of that idle and not very innocent
employment of forming imaginary models of a world,
and schemes of governing it, turn our thoughts to what
we experience to be the conduct of Nature with respect
to intelligent creatures; which may be resolved into
general laws or rules of administration, in the same way
as many of the laws of Nature respecting inanimate
matter may be collected from experiments.  And let us
compare the known constitution and course of things
with what is said to be the moral system of Naturie;
the acknowledged dispensations of Providence, or that
government which we find ourselves under, with what
religion teaches us to believe and expect; and see whether
thve! are not analogous and of a piece.  And upon such




INTRODUC ercON.                 IV
a comparison it will, I think, be found that they are very
much so: that both may be traced up to the same gene
ral laws, and resolved into the same principles of divine conduct.
The analogy here proposed to be considered is of pretty
large extent, and consists of several parts; in some more,
in others less exact. In solne few instances perhaps
it may amount to a real practical proof; in others not so.
Yet in these it is a confirmation of what is proved otherwise. It will undeniably show, what too many want to
have shown them, that the system of Religion, both
natural and revealed, considered only as a system, and
prior to the proof of it, is not a subject of ridicule, unless
that of Nature be so too. And it will afford an answer to
almost all objections against the system both of natural
and revealed Religion; though not perhaps an answer in
so great a degree, yet in a very considerable degree an
answer to the objections against the evidence of it: for objections against a proof, and objections against what is said
to be proved, the reader will observe are different things.
Now the divine government of the world, implied in
the notion of religion in general and of Christianity, con.tains in it; that mankind is appointed to live in a future
state; i that there every one shall be rewarded or punish.ed; t rewarded or punished respectively for all tha
behaviour here, which we comprehend under the words,
virtuous or vicious, morally good or evil:+ that our present life is a probation, a state of trial, ~ and of discipline, II for that future one; notwithstanding the objections, which men may fancy they have, firom notions of
Necessity, against there being any such moral plan as
this at all; F and whatever objections may appear to lie
against the wisdom and goodness of it, as it stands so
imperfectly made known to us at present:**  that this
world being ill a state of apostasy and wickedness, ant
consequen't.ly of ruin, and the sense both of their condition and duty being greatly corrupted amongst men, this
gave occasion for an additional dispensation of Providence; of the utmost importance;tt proved bymiracies;++
* Ch. i.  t Ch. ii  i Ch. iii.    1' Ch. i-.  [ Ch. v.  - Cii. vi.
**  Cit. Vii.,;  1.             #      *. i;,




FNTRODUCTIO'L
but co itainIng in it many things appearing to us s.ie,
and not to have been expected; * a dispensation of Providence, which is a scheme or system of things; t carried
on by the mediation of a divine person, the Messiah, in
order to the recovery of the world; t yet not revealed
to all men, nor proved with the strongest possible evidence to all those to whom it is revealed; but only to
such a part of mankind, and with such particular evidence, as the wisdom of God thought fit. ~  Tile design
then of the following Treatise will be to show, that the
several parts principally objected against in this moral
and Christian dispensation, including its scheme, its publication, and the proof which God has afforded us of its truth;
that the particular parts principally objected against in this
whole dispensation, are analogous to what is experienced
in the constitution and course of Nature, or Providence;
that the thief objections themselves which are aleeged
against the former, are no other than what may be alleged
with like justness against the latter, where they are found
in fact to be inconclusive; and that this argument from
analogy is in general unanswerable, and undoubtedly of
weight on the side of religion,Il notwithstanding the
Objections which may seem to lie against it, and the real
ground which there may be for difference of opinion, as
to the particular degree of weight which is to be laid
upon it. This is a general account of what may be
looked for in the following Treatise. And I shall begin it
with that which is the foundation of all our hopes and
of all our fears; all our hopes and fears, which are of
any consideration; I mnean a Future Life.
C. Xi'     fb.iv.  i t('hL.    Ch.  v ii,  A, -




THE
ANALOGY OF RELIGION.
PART 1.
OF NATURAL RELIGION.
CHAP. I.
OF A FUTURE LIFE.
STRANGE difficulties have been raised by some concern.
ing personal identity, or the sameness of living agents,
implied in the notion of our existing now and hereafter, or
in any two successive moments; which whoever thinks it
worth while, may see considered in the first Dissertation
at the end of this Treatise. But without regard to any
of them here, let us consider what the analogy of nature,
and the several changes which we have undergone, and
those which we know we may undergo without being
destroyed, suggest, as to the effect which death may, or
may not, have upon us; and whether it be not from
thence probable, that we may survive this change, and
exist in a future state of life and perception.
I. From our being born into the present world in the
helpless imperfect state of infancy, and having arrived
from thence to mature age, we find it to be a general law
of nature in our own species, that the same creatures, the
same individuals, should exist in degrees of life and perception, with capacities of action, of enjoyment and suffering, in one period of their being, greatly different from
those appointed them in another period of it. And in
other creatures the same law holds. For the difference of
tU eir capacities and states of life at their birth (to go no
1,..;ler) and in maturity; the change of worms into flies, and
t lie vast enlargement of their locomotive powers by such




5S                OF A FUTURE LIFE.'[P.Ar I
change: and birds and insects bursting the shell If their
habitation, and by this means entering into a new world,
furnished with new accommodations for them, and finding
a new sphere of action assigned them; these are instances
of this general law of nature.  Thus all the various and
wonderful transformations of animals are to be taken into
consideration here.  But the states of life in which we
ourselves existed formerly in the womb and in our infancy,
are almost as different from our present in mature age, as
it is possible to conceive any two states or degrees of life
can be. Therefore that we are to exist hereafter, in a
state as different (suppose) from our present, as this is
from our former, is but according to the analogy of nature; according to a natural order or appointment of the
very same kind, with what we have already experienced.
II. We know we are endued with capacities of action,
of happiness and misery: for we are conscious of acting, of
enjoying pleasure and suffering pain. Now that we have
these powers and capacities before death, is a presumption
that we shall retain them through and after death; indeed a
probability of it abundantly sufficient to act upon, unless
there be some positive reason to think that death is the
destruction of those living powers: because there is in
every case a probability, that all things will continue as
we experience they are, in all respects, except those in
which we have some reason to think they will be altered.
This is that kind* of presumption or probability from analogy, expressed in the very word continuance, which seems
our only natural reason for believing the course of the world
will continue to-morrow, as it has done so far as our experience or knowledge of history can carry us back.  Nay
it seems our only reason for believing, that any one substance now existing will continue to exist a moment longer;
the self-existent substance only excepted.  Thus if nienl
were assured that the unknown event, death, was not Jhe
destruction of our faculties of perception and of action,
there would be no apprehension, that any other power oi
event, unconnected with this of death, would destroy these
* I say kind of presumption or probability; for I do not mean to affirm that tbare
is the same degree of conviction, that our living powers will contilue after deathl, as
there is, thiat our substaums will.




cu. 1,]                OF A FUTURE LIFE.                          5J
faculties just at the instant of each creature's death; and
therefore no doubt but that they would remain after it;
which shows the high probability that our living powers
will continue after death, unless there be some ground to
think that death is their destruction.* For, if it would be.
in a manner certain that we should survive death, provided it were certain that death would not be our destruction, it must be highly probable we shall survive it, if there
be no ground to think death will be our destruction.
Now, though I think  it must be acknowledged, that
prior to the natural and moral proofs of a future life
commonly insisted upon, there would arise a general
confused suspicion, that in the great shock and alteration
which we shall undergo by death, we, i. e. our living
powers, might be wholly destroyed; yet even prior to
those proofs, there is really no particular distinct ground
or reason for this apprehension at all, so far as I can
find.   If there be, it must arise  either from  the reason
of the thing, or from  the analogy of nature.
But we cannot argue from the reason of the thing, that
death is the destruction of living agents, because we
know  not at all what death  is in  itself; but only  some
of its effects, such as the dissolution of flesh, skin, and
bones. And these effects do in. no wise appear to imply
the destruction of a living agent. And besides, as we
are greatly in the dark, upon what the exercise of our
living powers depends, so we are wholly  ignorant what
the powers themselves depend upon; the powers themselves as distinguished, not only from their actual exercise, but also from the present capacity of exercising
them; and  as opposed  to  their d-istruction: for sleep,
or however a swoon, shows u3, not only that these
powers exist when they are not etxrcised, as the passive
power of motion does in inanimate matter; but shows
* Destruction of living powers, is a manner of expression unavoidably ambiguolus;
and may signify eitlher the destruction of a living being, so as that the:;cnae living
being shall be ucncapable of ever perceivinzg or c,g/ir/ jgain at all; or the destruction of
those means and instruments by which it is capuur of its present life, of its present
state of perception and of action. It is tlelre used ill thlte tolmer sense. Wlt n it is
used in tihe latter, the epithet present is added. The loss of a man's eye is a destrue.
tion of liviing powers in the latter sense. Btt we have no reason to thilik the destruction of livinlg powers, ill the former sense, to be p(msible  We have n1o tom
reason to think a being endued with livino' sorrwrs, ever loses theml during its wlinfe
existence, than to believe that a stone ever acquilres thew.




60               OF A FUTURE LIFE.            [P.RT. I.
also that tney exist, when there is no prese:'t capacity
of exercising them: or that the capacities of exercising
them for the present, as well as the actual exercise of
them, may be suspended, and yet the powers themselve3
remain undestroyed. Since then we know not at ~aJ!
upon what the existence of our living powers depends,
this shows further, there can no probability be collected
from the reason of the thing, that death will be the>i,
destruction: because their existence may depend upon
somewhat in no degree affected by death; upon somewhat quite out of the reach of this king of terrors.  So
that there is nothing more certain, than that the reason
of the thing shows us no connexion between death
and the destruction of living agents.  Nor can we find
any thing throughout the whole analogy of nature, to
afford us even the slightest presumption, that animals
ever lose their living powers; much less if it were possible, that they lose them by death: for we have no
faculties wherewith to trace any beyond or through it,
so as to see what becomes of them. This event removes
them from our view. It destroys the sensible proof,
which we had before their death, of their being possessed
of living powers, but does not appear to afford the least
reason to believe that they are, then, or by that event,
deprived, of them.
And our knowing, that they were possessed of these
powers, up to the very period to which we have faculties
capable of tracing them, is itself a probability of their
retaining them beyond it. And this is confirmed, and a
sensible credibility is given to it, by observing the very
great and astonishing changes wli'ch we have experienced; so great, that our existence in another state of
life, of perception and of actio;-,, will be but according
to a method of providential conduct, the like to whichs
has been already exercised even with regard to oui'selves; according to a course of nature, the like to wh7i 9.'
we have already gone through.
However, as one cannot but be greatly sensible, how
difficult it is to silence. imagination enough to make the
voice of reason even distinctly heard in this case; as we
are accustomed, from our youth up, to indulge that for



CrAP. L]         OF A FUTURE LIFE.                61
ward, delusive fac ilty, ever obtruding be3 Dnd its sphere;
of some assistance indeed to apprehension, but the
author of all error: as we plainly lose ourselves in gross
and crude conceptions of things, taking for granted that
we are acquainted with what indeed we are wholly
ignorant of: it may be proper to consider the imaginary
presumptions, that death will be our destruction, arising
from these kinds of early and lasting prejudices; and to
show how little they can really amount to, even though
we cannot wholly divest ourselves of them.  And,
1. All presumption of death's being the destruction
of living beings, must go upon supposition that they are
compounded; and so, discerptible. But since consciousness is a single and indivisible power, it should seem
that the subject in which it resides must be so too. For
were the motion of any particle of matter absolutely one
and indivisible, so as that it should imply a contradiction
to suppose part of this motion to exist, and part not to
exist, i. e. part of this matter to move, and part to be at
rest; then its power of motion would be indivisible;
and so also would the subject in which the power inheres,
namely, the particle of matter: for if this could be deVided into two, one part might be moved and the other
at rest, which is contrary to the supposition. In like
manner it has been argued,' and, for any thing appearing to the contrary, justly, that since the perception or
consciousness, which we have of our own existence, is
indivisible, so as that it is a contradiction to suppose
one part of it should be here and the other there; the
perceptive power, or the power of consciousness, is indivisible too: and consequently the subject in which it
resides; i. e. the conscious Being. -Now upon supposition that living agent each man calls himself, is thus a
single being, which there is at least no more difficulty
in conceiving than in conceiving it to be a compound,
and of which there is the proof now mentioned; it follows, that our organized bodies are no more ourselves
or Tart of ourselves, than any other matter around us.
And, it is as easy to conceive, how matter, which is no
part of ourselves, may be appropriated to us in the
ee Dr Clalke's Letter to Mr Dodwell, and the defene of it.




62              OF A FUTURE LIFE.          [Pu? I.
manner which our present bodies are; as how we can
receive impressions from, and have power over, any
mnatter. It is as easy to conceive, that we may exist
out of bodies, as in them; that we might have animated
bodies of any other organs and senses wholly different
from these now given us, and that we may hereafter
animate these same or new bodies variously modified
and organized; as to conceive how we can animate such
bodies as our present. And lastly, the dissolution ot
all these several organized bodies, supposing ourselves
to have successively animated them, would have no
more conceivable tendency to destroy tile living beings
ourselves, or deprive us of living faculties, the faculties
of perception and of action, than the dissolution of any
foreign matter, which we are capable of receiving im-.
pressions from, and making use of, for the common
occasions of life.
II. The simplicity and absolute oneness of a living
agent cannot indeed, from the nature of the thing, be
properly proved by experimental observations.  But
as these Jall in with the supposition of its unity, so they
plainly lead us to conclude certainly, that our gross
organized bodies, with which we perceive the objects of
sense, and with which we act, are no part of ourselves;
and therefore show us, that we have no reason to believe
their destruction to be ours: even without determining
whether our living substances be material or immaterial.
For we see by experience, that men may lose their
limbs, their organs of sense, and even the greatest part
of these bodies, and yet remain the same living agents.
And persons can trace up the existence of themselves
to a time, when the bulk of their bodies was extremely
small, in comparison of what it is in mature age: and
we cannot but think, that they might then have lost a
considerable part of that small body, and yet have remained the same' living agents; as they may now lose
great part of their present body, and remain so. And
it is certain, that the bodies of all animals are in a constant flux, from that never-ceasing attrition, which there
is in every part of them. Now things of this kind unavoidably teach us to distinguish, between these living




CRAP. 1 ]        01 A FUTURE LIFE.               63
age nts oi rselves, and large quantities of matter, in
which we are very nearly interested: since these may
te alienated, and. actually are in a daily course of succession, and changing their owners; whilst we are
assured, that each living agent remains one and the same
permanent being.  And this general observation leads
us on to the following ones.
First, That we have no way of determining by experience, what is the certain bulk of the living being
each man calls himself: and yet, till it be determined
that it is larger in bulk than the solid elementary particles of matter, which there is no ground to think any
natural power can dissolve, there is no sort of reason to
think death to be the dissolution of it, of the living being,
even though it should not be absolutely indiscerptible.
Secondly, From our being so nearly related to and
interested in certain systems of matter, suppose our
flesh and bones, and afterwards ceasing to be at all related to them, the living agents ourselves remaining all
this while undestroyed notwithstanding such alienation;
and consequently these systems of matter not being
ourselves: it follows further, that we have no ground
to conclude any other, suppose internal systems of
matter, to be the living agents ourselves; because we
can have no ground to conclude this, but from our relation to and interest in such other systems of matter:
and therefore we can have no reason to conclude, what
befalls those systems of matter at death, to be the destruction of the living agents. We have already several
times over lost a great part or perhaps the whole of our
body, according to certain common established laws of
nature; yet we remain the same living agents: when
we shall lose as great a part, or the whole, by another
common established law of nature, death; why may we
not also remain the same P  That the alienation has
been gradual in one case, and in the other will be more
at once, does not prove any thing to the contrary. We
have passed undestroyed through those many and great
revolutions of matter, so peculiarly appropriated to us
ourselves; why should we imagine death will be so
% See Dissertation I.




64               OF A FTTTURE LIFE.          [CP? L
fatal to us?P  Nor can it be objected, that what is thus
alienated or lost, is no part of our original solid body,
but only adventitious matter; because we may lose
entire limbs, which must have contained many solid
parts and vessels of the original body; or if this be not
admitted, we have no proof, that any of these solid parts
are dissolved or alienated by death.  Though, by the
xvav, we are very nearly related to that extraneous or
adventitious matter, whilst it continues united to and
distending the several parts of our solid body.  But
fter all; the relation a person -bears to those parts of
- s body, to which he is the most nearly related; what
(':oes it appear to amount to but this, that the living:agent, and those parts of the body, mutually affect each
other P  And the same thing, the same thing in kind
though not in degree, may be said of all ftreign matter,
which gives us ideas, and whiich we have any power
over. From these observations the whole ground of
the imagination is removed, that the dissolution of any
matter, is the destruction of a living agent, from the
interest he once had in such matter.
Th7irdly, If we consider our body somewhat more
distinctly, as made up of organs and instruments of
perception and of motion, it will bring us to the same
conclusion,  Thus the common  optical experiments
show, and even the observation how sight is assisted by
glasses shows, that we see with our eyes in the same
sense as we see with glasses. Nor is there any reason
to believe, that we see with them  in any other sense;
any other, I mean, which would lead us to think t!he
eye itself a percipient.  The like is to be said of hearin'.'
and our feeling distant solid matter by means of somewhat in our hand seems an instance of the like kind.
as to the subject we are considering. All these are in.stances of foreign matter, or such as is no part of our
body, being instrumental in preparing objects for, and
conveying them to, the perceiving power, in a manner
similar or like to the manner in which our organs of
sense prepare and convey them.  Both are in a like
way instruments of our receiving such ideas from e:,ternal objects, as the Author of nature appointed those




CAlP. I.]        OF A FUTURE LIFE.              65
external objects to be the occasions of exciting in us.
However, glasses are evidently instances of this; name
ly of matter which is no part of our body, preparing
objects for ant conveying them towards Qhe perceiving
power, in like manner as our bodily organs do. And
if we see with our eyes only in the same manner as we
do with glasses, the like may justly be concluded, from
analogy, of all our other senses.  It is not intended, by
any thing here said, to affirm, that the whole apparatus
of vision, or of perception by any other of our senses;
can be traced through all its steps, quite up to the living
power of seeing, or perceiving: but that so far as it can
be traced by experimental observations, so far it appears,
that our organs of sense prepare and convey on objects,
in order to their being perceived, in like manner as
foreign matter does, without affording any shadow of
appearance, that they themselves perceive. And that
we have no reason to think our organs of sense percipients, is confirmed by instances of persons losing some
of them, the living beings themselves, their former occupiers, remaining unimpaired. It is confirmed also by
the experience of dreams; by which we find we are at
present possessed of a latent, and what would otherwise
be, an unimagined unknown power of perceiving sensible objects, in as strong and lively a manner without our
external organs of sense as with them.
So also with regard to our power of moving, or directing motion by will and choice; upon the destruction of
a limb, this active power remains, as it evidently seems,
unlessened; so as that the living being, who has suffered this loss, woulld be capable of moving as before, if it
had another limb to move with. It can walk by the
help of an artificial leg; just as it can make use of a
pole or a lever, to reach towards itself and to move
things, beyond the length and the power of its natural
arm; and this last it does in the same manner as it
reaches and moves, with its natural arm, things nearer
and of less weight. Nor is there so much as any appearance of our limbs being endued with a power of
moving or directing themselves; though they are adapted; like the several pa.:ts; of a machine, to be the instru



66               OF A PUTZURE LiFE,          tPaT 1.
ments of motion to each other; and some parts of the
same limb, to be instruments of motion to other parts
of it.
Thus a man determines, that he wili look at such an
object through a microscope; or being lame suppose,
that he will walk to such a place with a staff a week
hence. His eyes and his feet no more determine in
these cases, than the microscope and the staff. Nor is
there any ground to think they any more put the determination in practice; or that his eyes are the seers or
his feet the movers, in any other sense than as the microscope and the staff are.  Upon the whole then, our
organs of sense and our limbs are certainly instruments,
which the living persons ourselves make use of to perceive and move with: there is not any probability, that
they are any more; nor consequently, that we have any
other kind of relation to them, than what we have to any
other foreign matter formed into instruments of perception and motion, suppose into a microscope or a staff (I
say any other kind of relation, for I am not speaking of
the degree of it); nor consequently is there any probaiility, that the alienation or dissolution of these instruments is the destruction of the perceiving and moving
agent.
And thus our finding, that the dissolution of matter,
in which living beings were most nearly interested, is
not their dissolution; and that the destruction of several
of the organs and instruments of perception and of motion belonging to them, is not their destruction; shows
demonstratively, that there is no ground to think that
the dissolution of any other matter, or destruction of any
other organs and instruments, will be the dissolution or
destruction of living agents, from the like kind of relation. And we have no reason to think we stand in any
other kind of relation to any thing which we find
dissolved by death.
But it is said these observations are equally applicable.o brutes: and it is thought an insuperable difficulty, that
they should be immortal, atnd by consequence capable of
everlasting happiness.  Now this manner of expression
is both invidious and weak: but thle thing intended be




C 1.A. I.]        OF A FUTURE LIFE.                67
i,, is really no difficulty at all, either in the way of na,
tr:al  or moral consideration.  For 1st, Suppose the in.
v-iious thing, designed in such a manner of expression,
were really implied, as it is not in the least, in the naitr'al immortality of brutes: namely, that they miLst~ arr ive at great attainments, and become rational and
moral agents; even this would be no difficulty: since we
know not what latent powers and capacities they may
be endued with. There was once, prior to experience,
as great presumption against human creatures as there
is against the brute creatures, arriving at that degre
of understanding, which we' have in mature age.  Foi
we can trace up our own existence to the same oriwrinal
with the' s.  And we find it to be a general law of na..
ture, that creatures endued with capacities of virtue an:l
religion should be placed in a condition of being, in wThicl
they are altogether without the use of the.n, for a considerable length of their duration; as in infancy and
childhood. And great part of the human species go out
of the present world, b flore they come to the exercise o!
these capacities in anyT dec;ree at all.  But then, 2dly,
the natural immortality of brutes does not in the least
imply, that they are endued with any latent capacities of
a rational or moral nature. And the economy of tlhe
universe might require, that there should be living
~creatures without any capacities of this kind.  And a1i
difficulties as to the manner how they are to be disposed
of are so apparently and wholly founded in our ignorance,
that it is wonderful they should be insisted upon by any-,
but such as are weak enough to think they are acquainted
with the whole system of things. There is then absolutclnothing at all in this objection, which is so rhetorically
urged, against the greatest part of the natiral proofs or
presumptions of tble immortality of h-,uman minds; I say
the greatest part; for it is less applicableto the following
observation, which is more peculiar to mankind:
III. That as it is evident our present powers and capacities of reason, memory, and affection, do not depen'
upon our gross body in the mariner in which perception'
by our organs of sense does; so they do not appear tc
depeld upo:l it at all in anx  such manner, as to gi




68                OF A FUTURE LIFE.             [PAR I.
ground to think, that the dissolution of this body will be
the destruction of these our present powers of reflection,
as it will of our powers of sensation; or to give ground
to conclude, even that it will be so much as a suspension
of the former.
Human creatures exist at present in two states of life
and perception, greatly different from each other; each
of which has its own peculiar laws and its own peculiar
enjoyments and sufferings. When any of our senses
are affected or appetites gratified with the objects of
them, we may be said to exist or live in a state of sensation. When none of, our senses are affected or. appetites gratified, and yet we perceive, and reason, and
act; we may be said to exist or live in a, of reflection.  Now it is by no means certain, t'.. -ny thing
which is dissolved by death, is any way necessary to the
living being i this its state of reflection, after ideas are
gained. For, though, from our present constitution and
condition of being, our external organs of sense are necessary for conveying in ideas to our reflecting powers,
as carriages, and levers, and scaffolds are in architecture: yet when these ideas are brought in, we are capable of reflecting in the most intense degree, and of enioying the greatest pleasure, and feeling the greatest
pain, by means of that reflection, without any assistance
from our senses; and without any at all, which we know
of, from that body. which will be dissolved by death. It
does not appear then, that the relation of this gross body
to the reflecting being is, in any degree, necessary to
thinking; to our intellectual enjoyments or sufferings:
nor, consequently, that the dissolution or alienation of
the former by death, will be the destruction of those present powers, which render us capable of this state of reflection.\ Further, there are instances of mortal diseases,
which do not at all affect our present intellectual powers;
and this affords a presumption, that those diseases will
not destroy these present powers.  Indeed, from the observations made above,' it appears, that there is no presumption, from their mutual'y affecting each other, that
the dissolution of the body is the destruction of the liv* Pp. 64,65.




~.1r.. L         OF A FUTURE LIFE.               69
ing agent. Atnd by the same reasoning, it must appear
too, that there is no presumption, from their mutually
affecting each other, that the dissolution of the body is
the destruction of our present reflecting powers: but instances of their not affecting each other, afford a presumption of the contrary.  Instances of mortal diseases
not impairing our present reflecting powers,. evidently
turn our thoughts even from imagining such diseases to
be the destruction of them.  Several things indeed
greatly affect all our living powers, and at length suspend the exercise of them; as for instance drowsiness,
increasing till it ends in sound sleep: and from hence
we might have imagined it would destroy them, till we
found btir P)rrience the weakness of this way of judging.  B,,Ohe diseases now mentioned, there is not
so much as this shadow of probability, to lead us to any
such conclusion, as to the reflecting pow, Trs which we
have at present.  For in those diseases, persons the
moment before death appear to be in the highest vigour
of life. They discover apprehension, memory, reason,
all entire; with the utmost force of affection; sense of a
character, of shame and honour; and the highest mental
enjoyments and sufferings, even to the last gasp: and
these surely prove even greater vigour of life than bodily
strength does.  Now what pretence is there for thinking, that a progressive disease when arrived to such a
degree, I mean that degree which is mortal, will destroy
those powers, which were not impaired, which were not
affected by it, during its whole progress quite up to
that degree?  And if death by diseases of this kind
is not the destruction of our present reflecting powers,
it will scarce be thought that death by any other
means is.
It is obvious that this general observation may be carried on further: and there appears so little connexion
between our bodily powers of sensation, and our present powers of reflection, that there is no reason to conclude, that death, which destroys the former, does so
much as suspend, the exercise of the hatter, or'interrupt
our continuing to exist in the like state of reflection which
we do now   For suspension of reason, memoryv and




70                       OF A FUTURE LIFE..                        [Put L
the affections which they excite, is no part c f the idea oa
death, nor is implied in our notion of it. And our daily
experiencing these powers to be exercised, without any
assistance, that we know of, from those bodies, which
will be dissolved by death; and  our finding  often, that
the exercise of them is so lively to the last; these things
afford a sensible apprehension, that death may not perhaps be so much as a discontinuance of the exercise of
these powers, nor of the enjoyments and sufferings which
it implies.' So that our posthumous life, whatever there
may be in it additional to our present, yet may not be
entirely beginning anew; but going on.  Death may,
in some sort and in some respects, answer to our
birth; which is not a suspension of the faculties which
we had before it, or a total change of the state of
life in which we existed when in the womb; but
a continuation of both, with such and such great alterations.
Nay, for ought we know of ourselves, of our present
life and of death; death may immediately, in the natural
course of things, put us into a higher and more enlarged
state of life, as our birth does;t a state in which our
capacities, and sphere of perception and of action, may
be much greater than at present. For as our relation
to our external organs of sense, renders us capable of existing in our present state of sensation; so it may be the
only natural hinderance to our existing, immediately, and
of course, in a higher state of reflection.   The truth is,
reason does not at all show us, in what state death naturally leaves us.   But were we sure, that it would  suspend all our perceptive and active powers; yet the suspension of a power and the destruction of it, are effects
* There are three distinct questions, relating to a filture life, here considered:
Whetlher death be the destruction of livin' agent.s; if Ioi, Whether it be the
dlestruction of their present powers of reflection, -ls iL ccrtainlly is the destruction of
their present powers of sensation; and if not, Whether it be the suspension, or disconitinuance of the exercise of these present reflecting powers.  Now, if there be no
reason to belie ve the last, there will be, ift that were possible, less for the next, and
less still for the first.
t This, according to Strabo, was the opinion of the Brachmans, vovu;,.sY gi}?;,e;4
ria jat 4cYars Piv, A S &v 4e dxR x snaAwv Vi  roc   v T i SX4vyrov, ybOluP l4 Irt Ov; Stow) n.e', s;,va,,oa qo-7; cp,ernrra,'    Lib. xv. p. 1039, Ed. Amst. 1.707. To which opinion
perhaps Aatoilnus ma.+ aliude nll these words, as wS 9r%4Sel,,f, gT-o'nr Sfivoy ~ x ql
rymo-;s 3e s;y, oeXP.27 orew; sxC      6,Larc,   re   Sc i; f p;uxaejov you L ro au i...r.
roveyiv sCrsoairae.  Lib. ix. c..




CNar. I.]        OF A FUTURE LIFE.               71
so totally different in kind, as we experience froln sleep
and a swoon, that we cannot in any wise argue from one
to the other; or conclude even to the lowest degree of probability, that the same kind of force which is sufficient;o suspend our faculties, though it be increased ever so
much, will be sufficient to destroy them.
These observations together may be sufficient to show,
how little presumption there is, that death is the destruction of human creatures. However, there is the shadow
of an analogy, which may lead us to imagine it is the
supposed likeness which is observed between the decay
of vegetables, and of living creatures. And this likeness
is indeed sufficient to afford the poets very apt allusions
to the flowers of the field, in their pictures of the frailty
of our present life. But in reason, the analogy is so far
from holding, that there appears no ground even for the
comparison, as to the present question; because one of
the two subjects compared is wholly void of that, which
is the principal and chief thing in the other, the power of
perception and of action; and which is the only thing we
are inquiring about the continuance of. So that the destruction of a vegetable, is an event not similar or analogous to the destruction of a living agent.
But if, as was above intimated, leaving off the delusive
custom of substituting imagination in the room of experience, we would confine ourselves to what we do know
and understand; if we would argue only from that, and
from that form our expectations; it would appear at first
sight, that as no probabitity of living beings ever ceasing
to be so, can be concluded from the reason of the thing;
so none can be collected from the analogy of Nature;
because we cannot trace any living beings beyond death.
But as we are conscious that we are endued with capacities of perception and of action, and are living persons;
what we are to go upon is, that we shall continue so, till
we foresee some accident or event, which will endanger
those capacities, or be likely to destroy us: which death
does in no wise appear to be.
And thus, when we go out of this world, we may
pass into new scenes, and a new state of life and action,
jv st as naturally as we came into the present. And this




OF A FUTURE LIFE.              PAST I,
new state may naturally be a social one. And tile advantages of it, advantages of every kind, may naturally be bestowed, according to some fixed general laws of wisdom,
upon every one in proportion to the degrees of his virtue.
And though the advantages of that future natural state
should not be bestowed, as these of the present in some
measure are, by the will of the society; but entirely by
his more immediate action, upon whom the whole frame
of nature depends: yet this distribution may be just as
natural, as their being distributed here by the instrumentality of men. And indeed, though one were to allow any confused undetermined  sense, which people
please to put upon the ward natural, it would be a shortness of thought scarce credible, to imagine, that no system or course of things can be so, but only what we see
at present:* especially whilst the probability of a future
life, or the natural immortality of the soul, is admitted
upon the evidence of reason; because this is really both
admitting and denying at once, a state of being different
from the present to be natural.  But tle only distinct
meaning of that word is, stated, fixed, or settled: since
what is natural as much requires and presupposes an
intelligent agent to render it so, i. e. to effect it continually, or at stated times; as what is supernatural or miraculous does to effect it for once.  And from hence it must
follow, that persons' notion of what is natural, will be
enlarged in proportion to their greater knowledge of the
works of God, and the dispensations of his Providence.
Nor is there any absurdity in supposing, that there may
be beings in the universe, whose capacities, and knowledge, and views, may be so extensive, as that the whole
Christian dispensation may to them appear natural, i. e.
analogous or conformable to God's dealings with other
parts of his creation; as natural as the visible known
course of things appears to us.  For there seems scarce
any other possible sense to be put upon the word, but
that only in which it is here used; similar, stated, or uniform.
This credibility of a future life, which has been here insisted upon, how little soever it may satisfy our curiosity,
* See Part II. Chap. ii. and Part II. Chap. iv.




rfap. 1.]        OF A FUTURE L.FE.
seems to answer all the purposes of reliaion, in like
mrannler as a demonstrative proof would. Indeed a proof,
even a demonstrative one, of a fitture life, woud not be
a proof of religion.  For, that we are to live hereafter,
is just as reconcilable with the scheme of atheism, and
as well to be accounted for by it, as that we are now alive
is: and therefore nothing can be more absurd than to
argue from that scheme, that there can be no future state.
But as religion implies a future state, any presumption
against such a state, is a presumption against religion.
And the foregoing observations remove all presumptions
of that sort, and prove, to a very considerable degree of
probability, one fundamental doctrin,' of religion; which,
if believed, would greatly open and dispose the mind
seriously to attend to the general evidence of the whole.
CHAP. II.
OF THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD BY REWARDS AND PUNISHiMENTS; AND PARTICULARLY OF THE LATTER.
THAT which makes the question concerning a future fife
to be of so great importance to us, is our capacity of happiness and misery. And that which makes the consideration of it to be of so great importance to us, is the
supposition of our happiness and misery hereafter depending upon our actions here.  Without this indeed,
curiosity could not but sometimes bring a subject, in
which we may be so highly interested, to our thoughts;
especially upon the mortality of others, or the near prospcct of our own. But reasonable men would not take
any further thought about hereafter, than what should
happen thus occasionally to rise in their minds, if it were
certain that our future interest no way depended upon
our present behaviour; whereas, on the contrary, if there
be ground, either from analogy or any thing else, to think
it does; then there is reason also for the most active
thought and solicitude, to secure that interest; to behave
so as that we may escape that misery, land obtain that
happiness, in another life, which we not only suppose
ourselves capable. of, but which we )appaehend also is




74         OF THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD         [tART IL
put in our own power. And whether there be ground
for this last apprehension, certainly would deserve to be
most seriously considered, were there no cther proof of
a future life and interest, than that presumptive one,
which the foregoing observations amount to.
Now in the present state, all which we enjoy, and a
great part of what we suffer, is put in our own power.
For pleasure and pain are the consequences of our actions; and we are endued by the Author of our nature
with capacities of foreseeing these consequences. We
find by experience he does not so much as preserve
our lives, exclusively of our own care and attention, to
provide ourselves with, and to make use of, that sustenance, by which he has appointed our lives shall be preserved; and without which, he has appointed, they shall
not be preserved at all. And in general we foresee, that
the external things, which are the objects of our various
passions, can neither be obtained nor enjoyed, without
exerting ourselves in such and such manners: but by thus
exerting ourselves, we obtain and enjoy these objects, in
which our natural good consists; or by this means God
gives us the possession and enjoyment of them. I know
not, that we have any one kind or degree of enjoyment, hut
by the means of our own actions. And by prudence and
care, we may, for the most part, pass our days in tolerable ease and quiet: or, on the contrary, we may, by rashness, ungoverned passion, wilfulness, or even by negligence, make ourselves as miserable as ever we please.
And many do please to make themselves extremely miserable, i. e. to do what they know beforehand will render
them so. They follow those ways, the fruit of which
they know, by instruction, example, experience, will be
disgrace, and poverty, and sickness, and untimely death.
This every one observes to be the general course of
things; though it is to be allowed, we cannot find by experience, that all our sufferings are owing to our own
follies.
Why the Author of Nature does riot give his creatures promiscuously such and such perceptions, without
reg,ard to their behaviour; why he does not make them
happy without the,..3-~rrentaiit of their own actioLS,




as I. "L]    BY REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS.           75
aunca revent their bringing any sufferings upon themnseivt.; is another matter.  Perhaps there nay be somni
ilripos,\bilities in the nature of things, which we are unacqual.Kid with.'  Or less happiness, it may be, woul(l
upon the,bEole be produced by such a method of conduct, than ar by the present.  Or perhaps divine goodness, with w1idh, if I mistake not, we make very free in
our speculations, inay not be a bare single disposition to
produce happiness' but a disposition to make the good,
the faithful, the hons;t man happy.  Perhaps an infinite!y perfect Mind a-ty be pleased with seeing his
creatures behave suitab:X to the nature which he has
given them; to the relatio)ns which he has placed them
in to each other; and to tirt which they stand in to
himself: that relation to himself. which, during their existence, is even necessary, and rhich is the most important one of all: perhaps, I sa\', an infinitely perfect
Mind may be pleased with this coral piety of moral
agents, in and for itself; as well as upon account of its
being essentially conducive to the hapiness of his creation.  Or the whole end, for which G(\4 made, and thus
governs the world, may be utterly bey-.'d the reach of
our faculties: there may be somewhat in it as impossible
tfor us to have any conception of, as for i blind man to
hlave a conception of colours.   But however this be, it
is certain matter of universal experience, that the general method of divine administration is, forewarning us,
or giving us capacities to foresee, with more or less clearness, that if we act so and so, we shall have such enjoyments; if so and so, such sufferings; and giving us those
enjoyments, and making us feel those sufferings, in consequence of our actions.
" But all this is to be ascribed to the general course
of nature."  True.  This is the very thing which I am
observing.  It is to be ascribed to the general course of
nature: i. e. not surely to the words or ideas, course of
nature; but to him who appointed it, and put things into
it: or to a course of operation, from its uniformity or
constancy, called natural;t and which necessarily implies an operating agent.  For when men find them* Pwt I. Chap. vii.' P. 72.




76          OF THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD         [PaRt. I.
selves necessitated to confess an Author of Nature, or
that God is the natural governor of the world; they
must not deny this again, because his government is uniform;' they must not deny that he does things at all, because he does them constantly; because the effects of his
acting are permanent, whether his acting be so or not;
though there is no reason to think it is not. In short,
every man, in every thing he does, naturally acts upon
the forethought and apprehension of avoiding evil or obtaining good: and if the natural course of things be the
appointment of God, and our natural faculties of knowledge and experience are given us by him; then the
good and bad consequences which follow our actions,
are his appointment, and our foresight of those consequences, is a warning given us by him, how we are to
act.
" Is the pleasure then, naturally accompanying every
particular gratification of passion, intended to put us upon gratifying ourselves in every such particular instance,
and as a reward to us for so doing?" No certainly.
Nor is it to be said, that our eyes were naturally intended to give us the sight of each particular object, to which
they do or can extend; objects which are destructive of
them, or which, for any other reason, it may become us
to turn our eyes from. Yet there is no doubt, but that
our eyes were intended for us to see with. So neither
is there any doubt. but that the foreseen pleasures and
pains belonging to the passions, were intended, in general,
to induce mankind to act in such and such manners.
Now from this general observation, obyious to every
one, that God has given us to understand, he has appointed satisfaction and delight to be the consequence of our
acting in one manner, and pain and uneasiness of our
acting in another, and of our not acting at all; and that
we find the consequences, which -we were beforehand
informed of, uniformly to follow; we may learn, tnat we
are at present actually under his governm. ent in the
strictest and most proper sense; in such a sense, as that
he rewards and punishes us for our actions  An Author
of nature being supposed., it is not so mich a deduction
of reason, as a matter of experience, that we are thus




CRSAI I.]   BY REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS.         77
under his government; under his government: in the
same sense, as we are under the government of civil
magistrates. Because the annexing pleasure to some
actions, and pain to others, in our power to do or forbear, and giving notice of this appointment beforehand
to those whom it concerns; is the proper formal notion
of government. Whether the pleasure or pain which
thus follows upon our behaviour, be owing to the Author
of Nature's acting upon us every moment which we feel
it; or to his having at once contrived and executed his
own part in the plan of the world; makes no alteration
as to the matter before us. For if civil magistrates
could make the sanctions of their laws take place, without interposing at all, after they had passed them; without a trial, and the formalities of an execution: if they
were able to make tneir laws execute themselves, or
every offender to execute them upon himself; we should
be just in the same sense under their government then,
as we are now; but in a much higher degree, and more
perfect manner. Vain is the ridicule, with which one
foresees some persons w4ill divert themselves, upon finding lesser pains considered as instances of divine punishment. There is no possibility of answering or evading the general thing here intended, without denying all
final causes. For final causes being admitted, the pleasures and pains now mentioned must be admitted too
as instances of them. And if they are; if God annexes
delight to some actions, and uneasiness to others, with
an apparent design to induce us to act so and so: then he
not only dispenses happiness and misery, but also rewards and punishes actions. If, for example, the pain
which we feel, upon doing what tends to the destruction
of our bodies, suppose upon too near approaches to fire,
or upon wounding ourselves, be appointed by the Author
of Nature to prevent our doing what thus tends to our
destruction; this is altogether as much an instance oi
his punishing our actions, and consequently of our being under his government, as declaring by a voice from
heaven, that if we acted so, he would inflict such pain
upon us, and inflicting it, whether it l)e greater or less.
Thus we find, that the true notion or cOnception of




78        OF THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD          eFPaT 1.
the Author of Nature, is that of a master or governor,
prior to the consideration of his moral attributes. The
fact of our case, which we find by experience, is, that
he actually exercises dominion or government over us
at present, by rewarding and punishing us for our actions, in as strict and proper a sense of these words,
and even in the same sense, as children, servants, subjects, are rewarded and punished by those who govern
them.
And thus the whole analogy of Nature, the whole present course of things, most fully shows, that there is
nothing incredible in the general doctrine of religion,
that God will reward and punish men for their actions
hereafter: nothing incredible, I mean, arising out of the
notion of rewarding and punishing. For the whole
course of nature is a present instance of his exercising
that government over us, which implies in it rewarding
and punishing.
But as divine punishment is what men chiefly object
against, and are mcst unwilling-to allow; it may be proper to mention some circumstances in the natural course
of punishments at present, which are analogous to what
religion teaches us concerning a future state of punishment; indeed so analogous, that as they add a further
credibility to it, so they cannot but raise a most serious
apprehension of it in those who will attend to them.
It has been now observed, that such and such miseries naturally follow such and such actions of imprudence
and wilfulness, as well as actions more commonly and
more distinctly considered as vicious; and that these
consequences, when they may be foreseen, are properly
natural punishments annexed to such actions. For the
general thing here insisted upon, is, not that we see a.great deal of misery in the world, but a great deal which
men bring upon themselves by their own behaviour,
which they might have foreseen and avoided. Now the
circumstances of these natural punishments, particularly
deserving our'attention, are such as these; That oftentimes they follow, or are inflicted in consequence of, actions wlbicll proculre Inany present advantages, and ar




tAle. II.,       BY PUNISHMENTS.                 79
accompanied with much present pleasure; for instance,
sickness anduntimely death are the consequence of intemperance, though accompanied with the highest mirth and
jollity: that these punishments are often much greater,
than the advantages or pleasures obtained by the actions,
of which they are the punishments or consequences:
that though we may imagine a constitution of nature, in
which these natural punishments, which are in fact to
follow, would follow, immediately upon such actions being done, or very soon after; we find on the contrary in
our world, that they are often delayed a great while,
sometimes even till long after the actions occasioning
them are forgot; so that the constitution of nature is such,
that delay of punishment is no sort nor degree of presumption of final impunity: that after such delay, these
natural punishments or miseries often come, not by degrees, but suddenly, with violence, and at once; however,
the chief misery often does: that as certainty of such distant misery following such actions, is never afforded persons; so perhaps during the actions, they have seldom a
distinct, full expectation of its following:  and many times
the case is only thus, that they see in general, or may see,
the credibility, that intemperance, suppose, will bring
after it diseases; civil crimes, civil punishments; when yet
the real probability often is, that they shall escape; but
things notwithstanding take their destined course, and
ihe misery inevitably follows at its appointed time, in very
many of these cases. Thus also though youth may be alleged as an excuse for rashness and folly, as being naturally thoughtless, and not clearly foreseeing all the consequences of being untractable and profligate; this does
not hinder, but that these consequences follow; and are
grievously felt, throughout the whole course of mature
life. Habits contracted even in that age, are often utter
ruin: and men's success in the world, not only in the
common sense of worldly success, but their real happiness and misery, depends, in a great degree, and in various ways, upon the manner in which they pass their
youth  which consequences they for tile most part ne* See tFart II. Clap. vi




80              OF THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD                    rPav ~t.
glect to consider, and perhaps seldom can properly be
said to believe, beforehand. It requires also to be mentioned, that, in numberless cases, tile natural course of
things affords us opportunities for procuring advantages
to ourselves at certain times, which  we cannot procure
when we will; nor ever recall the opportunities, if we
have neglected them.   Indeed the general course of nature is an example of this. If, during the opportunity ot
youth, persons are indocile and self-willed; they inevitably suffer in their future life, for want of those acquirements, which they neglected the natural season of attaining. If the husbandman lets his seedtime pass without
sowing, the whole year is lost to him  beyond  recovery.
In like manner, though after men have been guilty of
folly and extravagance up to a certain degree, it is often in
their power, for instance, to retrieve their affairs, to recover their health and character; at least in good measure,
vet real reformation is in many cases, of no avail at all to,
wards preventing the miseries, poverty, sickness, infamy, naturally annexed to folly and extravagance exceeding that degree. There is a certain bound to imprudence
and misbehaviour, which being transgressed, there remains no place for repentance in the natural course of
things.   It is further very  much to be remarked, that
neglects from inconsiderateness, want of attention,s not
looking about us to see what we have to do, are often attended with consequences altogether as dreadful, as any
active misbehaviour, from  the most extravagant passion.
And lastly, civil government being natural, the punishments of it are so too: and some of these punishmeints
are capital; as the effects of a dissolute course of pleasure
are often mortal. So that many natural punishments are
final t to him who incurs them, if considered only in his
Part II. Chap. vi.
t The general consideration of a future state of punishment, mtst evi(dently be-.ongs to the subject of natural Religiml. But if any of these reflections sollli bhe
thought to relate more peculiarly to tiis doctrine, as taught in Scripttlre; the rn'ailer is desired to observe, that Genltile writers, )holi tmnralist, and poets, speak of the
filture puisllhmnent of the wicked, )lth as to the duration and degree of' it, in a like
nanner of expression and of description, as the Scripture dloes. So that all wliicl.
can positively be'asserted to be niatter of Inmfre Revelstio:, wvth regard to this doctrilne, S'CIS'os bhe, that the great distinction between the righteous anid tile wickel,hall be made at the end of llis waorMl; tiat eai shlall elin receive -Laccording to




CHAP. I L               BY PUNISHMENTS.                           ]
temporal capacity:  and  seem  inflicted  by natural appointment, either to remove the offender out of the way
of being further mischievous; or as an example, though
frequently a disregarded one, to those who are left behind.
These things are not what we call accidental, or to
be met with only now and then; but they are things ot
every day's experience: they proceed from  general laws.,
very general ones, by which God governs the world,
in  the  natural course  of his  providence.  And  they
are so analo(gous, to what Religion  teaches us concerning the  future  punishment of the wicked, so much of
a piece with it, that both would naturally be expressed in
the very same words, and manner of description.   In
the book  of Proverbs,*  for instance, Wisdom  is introduced, as frequenting the most public places of resort, and
as rejected when she offers herself as the natural appointed guide of human life.  How long, speaking to those who
are passing through it, how long, ye simple onses, will ye love
folly, and the scorners deligelt in their scor.ing, andJfols
h;ate knowledge?  Turn ye at my reproof.   Behold, I will
pour out my spirit upon you, I will make known my words
unto you.  But upon  being  neglected, Because I have
called, and  ye refitsed, I have stretched out my hand, and
no man regarded; but ye irave set at nought all my counsel,
and would none of my reproof: I also will laugh at your
calamity, I will mock when your jear cometh; when your
fear cometh as desolation, and your destruction cometh as a
whirlwind; when  distress and anguish cometh UpTon you.
Then shall they call upon me, but I will not answer; they
shall seek me early, but they shall not find me.  This passage, every one sees, is poetical, and some parts of it are
highly figurative; but their meaning is obvious. And
deserts. Reason did, as it well might, conclude that it should, finally and upon the,whole., be well with the righteous, and ill Nwith the wvcked: but it could i)ot
ie determined upon any principles of reason, whether human creatures might not
t1.ave b)een appointed to pass through other states of life and being, before that distriIbutive justice should finally ajnd effectually take }place. Revelation teaches us, that
the next state of things after the present is appointed for the execution of this justice
that it sh1all be no longer delayed; but the mydtery of God, the Prent mystery of his
wuffering vice and confision to prevail, shall then befinished; andl he will take t Aim
hia 1great power and wiell reign. by rendering to every one according to his works.
*Cliap. i.




m?     3~LrXVRNMENT OF GOD BY PUNISHMENTS.   fPAaTI.
tSir, thing intended is expressed more literally in the following words; For that they hated knowledge, and didt not
choose the fear of the Lord —therefore shall they eat of
the fruit of their own way, and be filled with their own devices. For the security of the simple shall slay them, and
the prosperity offools shall destroy them.  And the whole
passage is so equally applicable to what we experience
in the present world, concerning the consequences of
men's actions, and to what Religion teaches us is to be
expected in another, that it may be questioned which of
the two was principally intended.
Indeed when one has been recollecting the proper
proofs of a future state of rewards and punishments, nothing methinks can give one so sensible an apprehension of the latter, or representation of it to the mind; as
observing, that after the many disregarded checks, admonitions, and warnings, which people meet with in the
ways of vice and folly and extravagance: warnings from
their very nature; from the examples of others; fiom the
lesser inconveniences which they bring upon themselves;
from  the instructions of wise and virtuous men: after
these have been long despised, scorned, ridiculed: after'le chief bad consequences, temporal consequences, of
their follies, have been delayed for a great while; at
length they break in irresistibly, like an armed force: repentance is too late to relieve, and can serve only to aggravate their distress, the case is become desperate: and
poverty and sickness, remorse and anguish, infamy and
death, the effects of their own doings, overwhelm them
beyond possibility of remedy or escape. This is an
account of what is in fact the general constitution of nature.
It is not in any sort meant, that, according to what appears at present of the natural course of things, men are
always uniformly punished in proportion to their misbehaviour: but that there are very many instances of misbehaviour punished in the several ways now mentioned,
and very dreadful instances too; sufficient to show what
the laws of the universe may admit; and, if thoroughly
considered, sufficient fully to answer all objections against
the credibility of a future state of punishments, from any




Oae- III.]   OF THE MORAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD.    83
imaginations, that the frailty of our nature and external
temptations, almost annihilate the guilt of human vices:
as well as objections of another sort; from necessity;
from suppositions, that the will of an infinite Being cannot be contradicted; or that he must be incapable of of-.
fence and provocation.'
Reflections of this kind are not without their terrors
to serious persons, the most free from enthusiasm, and
of the greatest strength of mind; but it is fit things be
stated and considered as they really are. And there is,
in the present age, a certain fearlessness, with regard to
what may be hereafter under the government of God,
which nothing but an universally acknowledged demonstration on the side of atheism can justify; and which
makes it quite necessary, that men be reminded, and if
possible made to feel, that there is no sort of ground for
being thus presumptuous, even upon the most sceptical
principles. For, may it not be said of any person upon
his being born into the world, he may behave so, as to
be of no service to it, but by being made an example of
the woeful effects of vice and folly?  That he may, as
any one may, if he will, incur an infamous execution,
from the hands of civil iustice; or in some other course
of extravagance shorten his days; or bring upon himself
infamy and diseases worse than deathnP So that it had
been better for him, even with regard to the present
world, that he had never been born. And is there any
pretence of reason, for people to think themselves secure,
and talk as if they had certain proof, that, let them act as
licentiously as they will, there can be nothing analogous to this, with regard to a future and more general interest, under the providence and government of the same
God?
CHAP. III.
OF THE MORAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD.
As the manifold appearances of design and o4 final
causes, in the constitution of the world, prove it to be the
* See Chap. iv. and vi.
F 2




84                 CF THE MORAL               o[Ptl  L
work of an intelligent Mind; so the particular final
causes of pleasure and pain distributed amongst his creatures, prove that they are under his government; what
may be called his natural government of creatures endued
with sense and reason. This, however, implies somewhat
more than seems usually attended to, when we speak of
God's natural government of the world. It implies
government of the very same kind with that which a
master exercises over his servants, or a civil magistrate
over his subjects.  These latter instances of final causes,
as really prove an intelligent Governor of the world, in
the sense now mentioned, and before* distinctly treated
of; as any other instances of final causes prove an
inteiligent Malker of it.
Blt this alone does not appear at first sight to determine any thing certainly, concerning the moral character of the Author of Nature, considered in this relation
of governor; does not ascertain his government to be
moral, or prove that he is the righteous judge of the world.
Moral government consists, not barely in rewarding and
punishing men for their actions, which the most tyrannical person mayr do: but in rewarding the righteous, and
punishing the wicked: in rendering to men according
to their actions, considered as good or evil. And the
perfection of moral government consists in doing this,
with regard to all intelligent creatures, in an exact
proportion to their personal merits or demerits.
Some men seem  to think the only character of the
Author of Nature to be that of simple absolute benevolence.  This, considered as a principle of action and
infinite in degree, is a disposition to produce the greatest
possible happiness, without regard to persons' behaviorl',
otherwise than as such regard would produce higherl d(
grees of it. And supposing this to be the only ch-aractcrl
of God, veracity and justice in him  would be nothing
but benevolence conducted by wisdom.  Now surely thi I
ought not to be asserted, unless it can be proved; for,v-(ki
should speak with cautious reverence upon such a s'tBject
And whether it can be proved or no, is not the ti, T
here to be inquired into; but whether in the ccnstituliaon




CHAP. III.]        GOVERNMENT OF GOD.                        85
and conduct of the world, a righteous government be
not discernibly planned out: which necessarily implies a
righteous governor.  There may possibly be in the creation beings, to whom  the Author of Nature manifests
thimself under this most amiable of all characters, this
of infinite absolute benevolence; for it is the most amiable, supposing it not, as perhaps it is not, incompatible
with justice; but he manifests himself to us under the
character of a righteous governor. He may, consistently
with this, be simply and absolutely benevolent, in the
sense now explained: but he is (for he has given us a
proof in the constitution and conduct of the world that he
is) a governor over servants, as he rewards and punishes
us for our actions.  And in the constitution and conduct
of it, he may also have given, besides the reason of the
thing, and the natural presages of conscience, clear and
distinct intimations, that his government is righteous or
moral: clear to such as think the nature of it deserving
their attention; and yet not to every careless person, who
casts a transient reflection upon the subject.'
But it is particularly to be observed, that the divine
government, which we experience ourselves under in the
present state, taken alone, is allowed not to be the perfection of moral government.  And yet this by no means
hinders, but that there may be somewhat, be it more or
less, truly moral in it. A righteous government may
plainly appear to be carried on to some degree: enough
to give us the apprehension that it shall be completed, or
carried on to that degree of perfection which religion
teaches us it shall; but which cannot appear, till much
more of the divine administration be seen, than can in the
present life. And the design of this Chapter is to inquire
how far this is the case: how far, over and above the moral
naturet which God has given us, and our natural notion
* The objections against religion, from the evidence of it not being universal, nor
so strong as might possibly hlave been, may be urged against natural religion, as well
as against revealed. Alnd therefore the consideration of them belongs to the first
part of this Trreatise, as well as the second. But as these objections are chiefly urged
against revealed religion, I clhoose to consider thenm in the second part. And tile
answer to them there, CIh. vi., as urged against Christianity, being alnost equally
applicable to therm as urged against the Religion of Nature; to at(id repetition, tile
reader is referred to that chapter.
j Dissertation 1[.




86                 OF THE MORAL                [PART L
of him as righteous governor of those his creatures, to
whom he has given this nature;' I say how far besides
this, the principles and beginnings of a moral government
over the world may be discerned, notwithstanding and
amidst all the confusion and disorder of it.
Now one might mention here, what has been often
urged with great force, that, in general, less uneasiness
and more satisfaction, are the natural consequencest of
a virtuous than of a vicious course of life, in the present
state, as an instance of a moral government established
in nature; an instance of it collected from experience
and present matter of fact. But it must be owned a
thing of difficulty to weigh and balance pleasures and
uneasinesses, each amongst themselves, and also against
each other, so as to make an estimate with any exactness,
of the overplus of happiness on the side of virtue. And it
is not impossible, that, amidst the infinite disorders of
the world, there may be exceptions to the happiness of
virtue; even with regard to those persons, whose course
of life from their youth up has been blameless: and
mnore with regard to those who have gone on for some
time in the ways of vice, and have afterwards reformed.
For suppose an instance of the latter case; a person with
his passions inflamed, his natural faculty of self-government impaired by habits of indulgence, and with all his
svices about him, like so many harpies, craving for their
accustomed gratification: who can say how long it might
be, before such a person would find more satisfaction
in the reasonableness and present good consequences
of virtue, than difficulties and self-denial in the restraints
of it?  Experience also shows, that men can to a great
degree, get over their sense of shame, so as that by professing themselves to be without principle, and avowing even direct villany, they can support themselves
against the infamy of it. But as the ill actions of any
one will probably be more talked of, and oftener thrown
in his way, upon his reformation; so the infamy of them
will be much more felt, after the natural sense of virtue
and of honour is recovered.  Uneasinesses of this kind
* Chap. vi.
t See Lord Shaftesbulry's Inquiry concerning' V~irtue, Part 1I




cuw. 1l1.]      GOVERNMENT OF GOD.               87
ought indeed to be Dut to the account of former vices: vet it
will be said they are in part the consequences of reformation. Still I am far from allowing it doubtful, whether
virtue, upon the whole, be happier than vice in the present world. But if it were, yet the beginnings of a
righteous administration may, beyond all question, be
found in nature, if we will attentively inquire after them.
And,
I. In whatever manner the notion of God's moral
government over the world might be treated, if it did
not appear, whether he were in a proper sense our
governor at all; yet when it is certain matter of experience,
that he does manifest himself to us under the character of
a governor in the sense explained;* it must deserve to
be considered, whether there be not reason to apprehend,
that he may be a righteous or moral governor.  Since
it appears to be fact, that God does govern mankind
by the method of rewards and punishments, according
to some settled rules of distribution; it is surely a question
to be asked, what presumption is there against his finally rewarding and punishing them according to this
particular rule, namely, as they act reasonably, or unreasonably, virtuously or viciously P since rendering men
happy or miserable by this rule, certainly falls in, much
more falls in, with our natural apprehensions and sense of
things, than doing so by any other rule whatever; since
rewarding and punishing actions by any other rule, would
appear much harder to be accounted for, by minds formed
as he has formed ours. Be the evidence of religion then
more or less clear, the expectation which it raises in us,
that the righteous shall, upon the whole, be happy, and
the wicked miserable, cannot however possibly be considered as absurd or chimerical; because it is no more
than an expectation, that a method of government already
begun, shall be carried on, the method of rewarding and
punishing actions; and shall be carried on by a particular rule, which unavoidably appears to us at first
sight more natural than any other, the rule which we
call distributive justice. Nor,
II. Ought it to be entirely passed over, that tranquillity
* Chap. ii.




88                 OF THE MORAL                [PALt 1,
satisfaction, and external advantages, being the natural
Consequences of prudent management of ourselves, and
our affairs; and rashness, profligate negligence, and wilful folly, bringing after them many inconveniences and
sufferings; these afford instances of a right constitution of
nature: as the correction of children, for their own sakes,
and by way of example, when they run into danger or
hurt themselves, is a part of right education? And thus,
that God governs the world by general fixed laws, that
he has endued us with capacities of reflecting upon this
constitution of things, and foreseeing the good and bad
consequences of our behaviour; plainly implies some sort
of moral government; since from such a constitution of
things it cannot but follow, that prudence and imprudence, which are of the nature of virtue and vice,' must
be, as they are, respectively rewarded and punished.
III. From the natural course of things, vicious actions
are, to a great degree, actually punished as mischievous
to society; and besides punishment actually inflicted upon
this account, there is also the fear and apprehenision of
it in those persons, whose crimes have rendered them
obnoxious to it, in case of a discovery; this state of fear
being itself often a very considerable punishment.  The
natural fear and apprehension of it too, which restrains
from such crimes, is a declaration of nature against them.
It is necessary to the very being of society, that vices,
destructive of it. should be punished as being so; the vices
of falsehoods injustice, cruelty: which punishment therefore is as natural as society; and so is an instance of a
lkind of moral government, naturally established, and actually taking place. And, since the certain natural course
of things is the conduct of Providence or the government
of God, though carried on by the instrumentality of men;
the observation here made amounts to this, that mankind
find themselves placed by him in such circumstances,
as that they are unavoidably accountable for their behaviour, and are often punished, and sometimes rewarded
under his government, in the view of their being mischievous, or eminently beneficial to society.
If it be objected that good actions and such as are bene*  St-  ])issert. II,




Cwar. 1Ii.]     GOVERNMENT OF GOD.                 89
ficial to society, are often punished, as in the case of persecutilon and in other cases; and that ill and mischievous
actions are often rewarded: it may be answered distinctly; first, that this is in no sort necessary, and consequently not natural, in the sense in which it is necessary,
and therefore natural, that ill or mischievous actions
should be punished: and in the next place, that good
actions are never punished, considered as beneficial to
society, nor ill actions rewarded, under the view of their
being hurtful to it.  So that it stands good, without any
thing on the side of vice to be set over against it, that
the Author of Nature has as truly directed, that vicious
actions, considered as mischievous to society, should be
punished, and put mankind under a necessity of thus
punishing them; as he has directed and necessitated us
to preserve our lives by food.
IV. In the natural course of things, virtue as such is
actually rewarded, and vice as such punished: which
seems to afford an instance.or example, not only of
government, but of moral government begun and established; moral in the strictest sense; though not in that
perfection of degree, which religion teaches us to expect.
In order to see this more clearly, we must distinguish
between actions themselves, and that quality ascribed to
them, which we call virtuous or vicious. The gratification itself of every natural passion, must be attended
with delight: and acquisitions of fortune, however made,
are acquisitions of the means or materials of enjoyment.
An action then, by which any natural passion is gratified
or fortune acquired, procures delight or advantage; abstracted from all consideration of the morality of such
action. Consequently, the pleasure or advantage in this
case, is gained by the action itself, not by the morality,
the virtuousness or viciousness of it; though it be, perhaps, virtuous or vicious. Thus, to say such an action or
course of behaviour, procured such pleasure or advantage, or brought on such inconvenience and pain, is quite
a different thing from saying, that such good or bad
effect was owing' to the virtue or vice of such action or
behaviour. In one case, an action abstracted from all
moral consideration, produced its effect: in the other case,




90                 OF THE MORAL              [PART L
for it will appear that there are such cases, the norality
of the action under a moral consideration, i. e. the virtuousness or viciousness of it, produced the effect. Now
I say virtue as such, naturally procures considerable advantages to the virtuous, and vice as such, naturally occasions great inconvenience and even misery to the
vicious, in very many instances. The immediate effects
of virtue and vice upon the mind and temper, are to
be mentioned as instances of it. Vice as such is naturally attended with some sort of uneasiness, and, not
uncommonly, with great disturbance and apprehension.
That inward feeling, which, respecting lesser matters,
and in familiar speech, we call being vexed with oneself,
and in matters of importance and in more serious language, remorse; is an uneasiness naturally arising from
an action of a man's own, reflected upon by himself as
wrong, ul'easonable, faulty, i. e. vicious in greater or
less degrees: and this manifestly is a different feeling
from that uneasiness, which arises from a sense of mere
loss or harm. What is more common, than to hear a
man lamenting an accident or event, and adding -but
however he has the satisfaction that he cannot blame himself for it; or on the contrary, that he has the uneasiness
of being sensible it was his own doing?  Thus also the
disturbance and fear, which often follow upon a man's
hlaving done an injury, arise  from a sense of his being
blame-worthy; otherwise there would, in many cases, be
no ground of disturbance, nor any reason to fear resentment or shame.  On the other hand, inward security and
peace, and a mind open to the several gratifications ol
life, are the natural attendants of innocence and virtue.
To which must be added the complacency, satisfaction,
and even joy of heart, which accompany the exercise.
the real exercise of gratitude, friendship, benevolence.
And here, I think, ought to be mentioned, the fears of
future punishment, and peaceful hopes of a better life, in
those who fully believe, or have any serious apprehension
of religion: because these hopes and fears are present un-.
easiness and satisfaction to the mind; and cannot be got
rid of by great part of the world, even by men who have
thoughtt most thoroughly upon that subject of religion.




AP, Ill.]      GOVERNMENT OF GOD.                9|
And no one can say, how considerable tlis uneasiness
and satisfaction may be, or what upon the whole it may
amount to.
In the next place comes in the consideration, that all
honest and good men are disposed to befriend honest
good men as such, and to discountenance the vicious as
such, and do so in some degree; indeed in a considera.
b)le degree: from which favour and discouragement cannot but arise considerable advantage and inconvenience.
And though the generality of the world have little regard
to the morality of their own actions, and may be supposed to have less to that of others, when they themselves are not concerned; yet let any one be known to
be a man of virtue, some how or other he will be favoured and good offices will be done him, from regard to his
character, without remote views, occasionally, and in
some low degree, I think, by the generality of 4he world,
as.it happens to come in their way. Iublic honours too
and advantages are the natural consequences, are soinetimes at least the consequences in fact, of virtuous actions; of eminent justice, fidelity, charity, love to our
country, considered in the view of being virtuous. And
sometimes even death itself, often infamy and external inconveniences, are the public consequences of vice as vice.
For instance, the sense which mankind have of tyranny,
injustice, oppression, additional to the mere feeling or
fear of misery, has doubtless been instrumental in bringing about revolutions, which make a figure even in the
history of the world. For it is plain, men resent injuries as implying faultiness, and retaliate, not merely under
the notion of having received harm, but of having received wrong; and they have this resentment in behalf
of others, as well as of themselves. So likewise even
the generality are, in some degree, grateful and disposed
to return good offices, not merely because such a one
has been the occasion of good to them, but under the
view, that such good offices implied kind intention and
good desert in the doer. To all this may be added two
or three particular things, which many persons will think
frivolous; but to me nothing appears so, whllich at all
comes in towards determining a question of such import



92                 OF THE MORAL               [PAT' I.
ance, as, wlether there be, or be not, a moral institution
of government, in the strictest sense moral, visibly established and begun in nature. The particular things are
these: That in domestic government, which is doubtless
natural, children and others also are very generally punished for falsehood and injustice and ill-behaviour, as
such, and rewarded for the contrary: which are instances
where veracity and justice and right behaviour, as such,
are naturally enforced by rewards and punishments, whether more or less considerable in degree: that, though
civil government be supposed to take cognizance of actions in no other view than as prejudicial to society, without respect to the immorality of them; yet as such actions are immoral, so the sense which men have of the
immorality of them, very greatly contributes, in different
ways, to bring offenders to justice: and that entire absence of all crime and guilt in the moral sense, when
plainly appearing, will almost of course procure, and circumstances of aggravated guilt prevent, a remission of
the penalties annexed to civil crimes, in many cases,
though by no means in all.
tUpon the whole then, besides the good and bad effects
of virtue and vice upon men's own minds, the course of
the world does, in some measure, turn upon the approbation and disapprobation of them as such in others.
The sense of well and ill doing, the presages of conscience, the love of good characters and dislike of bad
ones, honour, shame, resentment, gratitude; all these,
considered in themselves, and in their effects, do afford
manifest real instances of virtue as such naturally favoured, and of vice as such discountenanced, more or
less, in the daily course of human life; in every age, ir.
every relation, in every general circumstance of it.
That God has given us a moral nature,* may most just!y
l)e urged as a proof of our being under his moral government: but that he has placed us in a condition, which
gives this nature, as one may speak, scope to operate, and
in which it does unavoidably operate; i. e. influence mankind to act, so as thus to favour and reward virtue, and
discountenance and punish vice; this is not the same, but
x See  Dissert. II.




CHA F. II].G OVERNMENT OF GOD.                    93
a further, additional proof of his moral government: for
it is an instance of it.  The first is a proof, that he will
finally favour and support virtue efl'ectually: the second
is an example of his favouring and supporting it at present, in some degree.
If a more distinct inquiry be made, whence it arises,
that virtue as such is often rewarded, and vice as such
is punished, and this rule never inverted: it will be
found to proceed, in part, immediately from the moral
nature itself, which God has given us; and also in part,
from his having given us, together with this nature, so
great a power over each other's happiness and misery.
For, first, it is certain, that peace and delight, in some
degree and upon some occasions, is the necessary and
present effect of virtuous practice; an effect arising
immediately from that constitution of our nature. We
are so made, that well-doing as such gives us satisfaction,
at least, in some instances; ill-doing as such, in none.
And, secondly, from our moral nature, joined with God's
having put our happiness and misery in many respects
in each other's power, it cannot but be, that vice as such,
some kinds and instances of it at least, will be infamous,
and men will be disposed to punish it as in itself detestable; and the villain will by no means be able always to
avoid feeling that infamy, any more than he will be able
to escape-this further punishment, which mankind will
be disposed to inflict upon him, under the notion of his
deserving it.  But there can be nothing on the side of
vice, to answer this; because there is nothing in the haman mind contradictory, as the logicians speak, to virtue. For virtue consists in a regard to what is right
and reasonable, as being so; in a regard to veracity, justice, charity, in themselves: and there is surely no such
thing, as a like natural regard to falsehood, injustice,
cruelty.  If it be thought, that there are instances of an
approbation of vice, as such, in itself, and for its own
sake (though it does not appear to me, that there is any
such thing at all; but supposing there be), it is evidentiy monstrous: as much so, as the most acknowledged
perversion of any passion whatever. Such instances of
perversion then being left out, as merely imaginary, or,




94                 OF THE MORAL              [PAr Lt
however, unnatural; it must follow, from the frame of our
nature, and from our condition, in the respects now described, that vice cannot at all be, and virtue cannot but
be, favoured as such by others, upon some occasions,
and happy in itself, in some degree. For what is here
insisted upon, is not the degree in which virtue and vice
are thus distinguished, but only the thing itself, that
they are so in some degree; though the whole good and
bad effect of virtue and vice as such, is not inconsiderable in degree.  But that they must be thus distinguished
in some degree, is in a manner necessary: it is matter of
fact of.daily experience, even in the greatest confusion
of human affairs.
It is not pretended but that, in the natural course of
things, happiness and misery appear to be distributed by
other rules, than only the personal merit and demerit of
characters. They may sometimes be distributed by way
of mere discipline. There may be the wisest and best
reasons, why thne world should be governed by general
laws, from whence such promiscuous distribution perhaps
must follow; and also why our happiness and misery
should be put in each other's power, in the degree which
they are. And these things, as in general they contribute to the rewarding virtue and punishing vice, as such:
so they often contribute also, not to the inversion of this,
which is impossible; but to the rendering persons prosperous, though wicked; afflicted, though righteous; and,
which is worse, to the rewarding some actions, though vicious, and punisling otler actions, though virtuous.  But
all this cannot drown the voice of Nature in the conduct
of Providence, plainly declaring itself for virtue, by way
of distinction from vice, and preference to it. For our
being so constituted as that virtue and vice are thus naturally favoured and discountenanced, rewarded and punished, respectively as such, is an intuitive proof of the intent of Nature, that it should be so; otherwise the constitution of our mind, from which it thus immediately and
directly proceeds, would be absurd.  But it cannot be
said, because virtuous actions are sometimes punished,
and vicious actions reward,., that Nature intended it.
For, though this great disorder is brought about, as all




CIIA. u.]      GOVERNMENT OF GOD.               95
actions are done, by means of some natural passion; yet
this may be, as it undoubtedly is, brought about by the
perversion of such passion, implanted in us for other,
and those very good purposes. And indeed these other
and good purposes, even of every passion, may be clearly seen.
We have then a declaration, in some degree of present effect, from Him who is supreme in Nature, which
side he is of, or what part he takes; a declaration for
virtue, and against vice. So far therefore as a man is
true to virtue, to veracity and justice, to equity and charity, and the right of the case, in whateverhe is concerned; so far he is on the side of the divine administration,
and co-operates with it: and from hence, to such a man,
arises naturally a secret satisfaction and sense of security, and implicit hope of somewhat further.  And,
V. This hope is confirmed by the necessary tendencies of virtue, which, though not of present effect, yet
are at present discernible in nature; and so afford an instance of somewhat moral in the essential constitution of
it.  There is, in the nature of things, a tendency in vir-.
tue and vice to produce the good and bad effects now
mentioned, in a greater degree than they do in fact produce them.  For instance; good and bad men would be
much more rewarded and punished as such, were it not,
that justice is often artificially eluded, that characters are
not known, and many, who would thus favour virtue and
discourage vice, are hindered from doing so by accidental causes.  These tendencies of virtue and vice are obvious with regard to individuals.  But it may require
more particularly to be considered, that power in a society, by being under the direction of virtue, naturally
increases, and has a necessary tendency to prevail over
opposite power, not under the direction of it; in like
manner, as power, by being under the direction of reason,
increases, and has a tendency to prevail over brute force.
There are several brute creatures of equal, and several
of superior strength, to that of men; and possibly the
sum of the whole strength of brutes may be greater than
that of mankind; but reason gives us the advantage and
superiority over them; and thus man is the acknowledged




96                 OF THE MORAL              [PrRrt&,
governing animal upon the earth.  Nor is this superiority considered by any as accidental; but as what
reason has a tendency, in the nature of the thing, to obtain. And yet perhaps difficulties may be raised about
the meaning, as well as the truth, of the assertion, that
virtue has the like tendency.
To obviate these difficulties, let us see more distinctly, how the case stands with regard to reason; which is
so readily acknowledged to have this advantageous tendency. Suppose then two or three men, of the best and
most improved understanding, in a desolate open plain,
attacked by ten times the number of beasts of prey:
would their reason secure them the victory inll this unequal combat P Power then, though joined with reason,
and under its direction, cannot be expected to prevail
over opposite power, though merely brutal, unless the
one bears some proportion to the other. Again: put
the imaginary case, that rational and irrational creatures
were of like external shape and manner: it is certain, before there were opportunities for the first to distinguish
each other, to separate from their adversaries, and to
form a union among themselves, they might be upon a
level, or in several respects upon great disadvantage;
though united they might be vastly superior; since union
is of such efficacy, that ten men united, might be able to
accorlmplish, what ten thousand of the same natural
strength and understanding wholly ununited, could not.
In this case then, brute force might more than maintain
its ground against reason, for want of union among the
rational creatures. Or suppose a number of men to
land upon an island inhabited only by wild beasts; a number of men who, by the regulations of civil government,
the inventions of art, and the experience of some years,
could they be preserved so long, would be really sufficient to subdue the wild beasts, and to preserve themselves
in security from them: yet a conjuncture of accidents
might give such advantage to the irrational animals as
that they might at once overpower, and even extirpate,
the whole species of rational ones. Length of time then,
proper scope and opportunities, for reason to exert itself, may be absolutely necessary to its prevailing over




Ct- r. 111.]3   GOVERNMENT OF GOD.               97
brute force. Further still: there are many instances of
brutes succeedi.g in attempts, which they could not have
undertaken, had not their irrational nature rendered them
incapable of foreseeing the danger of such attempt, or
the fury of passion hindered their attending to it: and
there are instances of reason and real prudence preventing men's undertaking what, it hath appeared afterwards,
they might have succeeded in by a lucky rashness. And
in certain conjunctures, ignorance and folly, weakness
and discord, may have their advantages. So that rational animals have not necessarily the superiority over irrational ones; but, how improbable soever it may be, it is
evidently possible, that in some globes the latter may
be superior. And were the former wholly at variance
and disunited, by false self-interest and envy, by treachery and injustice, and consequent rage and malice against
each other, whilst the latter were firmly united among
themselves by instinct; this might greatly contribute to
the introducing such an inverted order of things. For
every one would consider it as inverted: since reason
has, in the nature of it, a tendency to prevail over brute
force; notwithstanding the possibility it may not prevail,
and the necessity, which there is, of many concurring circumstances to render it prevalent.
Now I say, virtue in a society has a like tendency to
procure superiority and additional power: whether this
power be considered as the means of security from opposite power, or of obtaining other advantages. And it
has this tendency, by rendering public good, an object
and end, to every member of the society; by putting
every one upon consideration and diligence, recollection
and sslf-government, boh in order to see what is the
eost effectual method, Und also in order to perform their
proper part, for obtair;'nlg and preserving it; by uniting
a society within i-.seif, and so increasing its strength; ana,
which is particulJrly to be mentioned, uniting it by
means of verac,;ir and justice.  For as these last are
principal bonds of union, so benevolence or public spirit, undirected, unrestrained by them, is, nobody knows
what.
Ard suppose the invisible world, and the invisible
ci




98                 OF THE MORAL                 PRaR- I,
dispensations of Providence, to be, in any sort, analogous
to what appears: or that both together make up one uniform scheme, the two parts of which, the part which we
see, and that which is beyond our observation, are analogons to each other: then, there must be a like natural
tendency in the derived power, throughout the universe,
under the direction of virtue, to prevail in general over
that which is not under its direction; as there is in reason, derived reason in the universe, to prevail over brute
force. But then, in order to the prevalence of virtue,
or that it may actually produce, what it has a tendency
to produce; the like concurrences are necessary, as are,
to the prevalence of reason. There must be some proportion, between the natural power or force which is, and
that which is not, under the direction of virtue: there
must be sufficient length of time; for the complete success of virtue, as of reason, cannot, from the nature of
the thing, be otherwise than gradual: there must be, as
one may speak, a fair field of trial, a stage large and extensive enough, proper occasions and opportunities, for
the virtuous to join together, to exert themselves against
lawless force, and to reap the fruit of their united labours.
Now indeed it is to be hoped, that the disproportion between the good and bad, even here on earth, is not so
great, but that the former have natural power sufficient
to their prevailing to a considerable degree, if circumstances would permit this power to be united. For, much
less, very much less, power under the direction of virtue,
would prevail over much greater not under the direction
of it.  However, good men over the face of the earth cannot unite; as for other reasons, so because they cannot
be sufficiently ascertained of each other's characters.
And the known course of human things, the scene we
are now passing through, particularly the shortness of
life, denies to virtue its full scope in several other respects. The natural tendency which we have been considering, though real, is hindered from being carried into
effect in the present state: but these hinderances may be
removed in a future one. Virtue, to borrow the Christian allusion, is militant here; and various untoward accidents contribute to its being often overbolne: but it




cup. l!.I      GOVERNMENT OF GOD.               99
may combat with greater advantage hereafter, and prevail completely, and enjoy its consequent rewards, in
some future states. Neglected as it is, perhaps unknown,
perhaps despised and oppressed here; there may be
scenes in eternity, lasting enough, and in every other
way adapted, to afford it a sufficient sphere of action;
and a sufficient sphere for the natural consequences of it
to follow in fact. If the soul be naturally immortal, and
this state be a progress towards a future one, as childhood is towards mature age; good men may naturally
unite, not only amongst themselves, but also with other
orders of virtuous creatures, in that future state. For
virtue, from the very nature of it, is a principle and bond
of union, in some degree, amongst all who are endued
with it, and known to each other; so as that by it, a good
man cannot but recommend himself to the favour and
protection of all virtuous beings, throughout the whole
universe, who can be acquainted with his character, and
can any way interpose in his behalf in any part of his
duration. And one might add, that suppose all this advantageous tendency of virtue to become effect, amongst
one or more orders of creatures, in any distant scenes
and periods, and to be seen by any orders of vicious
creatures, throughout the universal kingdom of God;
this happy effect of virtue would have a tendency, by way
of example, and possibly in other ways, to amend those
of them who are capable of amendment, and being recovered to a just sense of virtue.  If our notions of the
plan of Providence were enlarged in any sort proportionable to what late discoveries have enlarged our views
with respect to the material world; representations of
this kind would not appear absurd or extravagant. However, they are not to be taken as intended for a literal
delineation of what is in fact the particular scheme of the
universe, which cannot be known without revelation: for
suppositions are not to be looked on as true, because not
incredible: but they are mentioned to show, that our
finding virtue to be hindered from procuring to itself such
superiority and advantages, is no objection against its
having, in the essential nature of the thing, a tendency
to procure them. And the suppositions now mentioned
e 2




100               OF THE MORAL               [PART 1
do plainly show this: for they show, that these hinderances are so far from being necessary, that we ourselves
can easily conceive, how they may be removed in future
states, and full scope be granted to virtue. And all these
advantageous tendencies of it are to be considered as declarations of God in its favour. This however is taking
a pretty large compass: though it is certain, that, as the
material world appears to be, in a manner, boundless and
immense; there must be some scheme of Providence vast
in proportion to it.
But let us return to the earth our habitation; and we
shall see this happy tendency of virtue, by imagining an
instance not so vast and remote: by supposing a kingdom or society of men upon it, perfectly virtuous, for a
succession of many ages; to which, if you please, may
be given a situation advantageous for universal monarchy. In such a state, there would be no such thing as
faction: but men of the greatest capacity would of course,
all along, have the chief direction of affairs willingly
yielded to them; and they would share it among themselves without envy. Each of these would have the part
assigned him, to which his genius was peculiarly adapted: and others, who had not any distinguished genius,
would be safe, and think themselves very happy, by being under the protection and guidance of those who had.
Public determinations would really be the result of the
united wisdom of the community: and they would faithfully be executed, by the united strength of it.  Some
would in a higher way contribute, but all would in some
way contribute, to the public prosperity: and in it, each
would enjoy the fruits of his own virtue. And as injustice, whether by fraud or force, would be unknown
among themselves; so they would be sufficiently secured
from it in their neighbours.  For cunning and false selfinterest, confederacies in injustice, ever slight, and ac-,ompanied with faction and intestine treachery; these on
one hand would be found mere childish folly and weakness, when set in opposition against wisdom, public spirit, union inviolable, and fidelity on the other: allowing
both a sufficient length of years to try their force. Add
tile general influence, w hich such a kingdom would have




~'UAv. III.]   GOVERNMENT OF GOD.               101
over the face of the earth, by way of example particular.
ly, and the reverence which would be paid it. It would
plainly be superior to all others, and the world must
gradually come under its empire; not by means of lawless violence; but partly by what must be allowed to be
just conquest; and partly by other kingdoms submitting
themselves voluntarily to it, throughout a course of ages,
and claiming its protection, one after another, in successive exigencies.  The head of it would be an universal
monarch, in another sense than any mortal has yet been;
and the eastern style would be literally applicable to him,
that all people, nations, and languages should serve him.
And though indeed our knowledge of human nature, and
the whole history of mankind, show the impossibility,
without some miraculous interposition, that a number of
men, here on earth, should unite in one society or government, in the fear of God and universal practice of
virtue; and that such a government should continue so
united for a succession of ages: yet admitting or supposing this, the effect would be as now drawn out.  And
thus for instance, the wonderful power and prosperity
promised to the Jewish nation in the Scripture, would
be, in a great measure, the consequence of what is pre-:icted of them; that the people should be all righteous,
and inherit the land for ever;* were we to understand
the latter phrase of a long continuance only, sufficient
to give things time to work. The predictions of this kind,
for there are many of them, cannot come to pass, in the
present known course of nature; but suppose them come
to pass, and then, the dominion and pre-eminence promised must naturally follow, to a very considerable degree.
Consider now the general system of religion; that the
government of the world is uniform, and one, and moral;
that virtue and right shall finally have the advantage, and
prevail over fraud and lawless fbrce, over the deceits as
well as the violence of wickedness, under the conduct of
one supreme governor: and from the observations above
made, it will appear. that God has, by our reason, given
us to see a peculiar connexion in the several parts of this
scheme, and a tendency towards the completion of it,
* Isa. Ix. 21.




102               OF THE MORAL                PART? 1.
iPrising Oat of the verv nature of virtue: which tendency
is to be considered as somewhat moral in the essential
constitution of thinas.  If any one should think all this
to be of little importance; I desire him to consider, what
he would think, if vice had, essentially and in its nature,
these advantageous tendencies; or if virtue had essentially the direct contrary ones.
But it may be objected, that notwithstanding all these
natural effects and these natural tendencies of virtue; vet
things may be now going on throughout the universe,
and may go on hereafter, in the same mixed way as
here at present upon earth: virtue sometimes prosperous, sometimes depressed; vice sometimes punished,
sometimes successful.  The answer to which is, that it
is not the purpose of this chapter, nor of this treatise,
properly to prove God's perfect moral government over
the world, or the truth of Religion; but to observe what
there is in the constitution and course of nature, to confirm the proper proof of it, supposed to be known: and
that the weight of the foregoing observations to this purpose may be thus distinctly proved. Pleasure and pain
are indeed to a certain degree, say to a very high degree,
distributed amongst us without any apparent regard to
the merit or demerit of characters.  And were there nothing else concerning this matter discernible in the constitution and course of nature; there would be no ground
from the constitution and course of nature to hope or to
fear, that men would be rewarded or punished hereafter
according to their deserts: which, however, it is to be
remarked, implies, that even then there would be no
ground from appearances to think, that vice upon the
whole would have the advantage, rather than that virtue
would. And thus the proof of a future state of retribution would rest upon the usual known arguments for it:
which are I think plainly unanswerable; and would be
so, though there were no additional confirmation of them
from the things above insisted on. But these things are
a very strong confirmation of them. For,
First, They show that the Author -Df Nature is not
indifferent to virtue and vice. They  amount to a
declaration, from hlim, determinate and not to be evaded,




CHAP. 1I1.u    GOVERNMENT OF GOD.              103
in favour of one, and against the other; such a leclaration,
as there is nuthing to be set over against or answer, on
thle part of vice. So that were a man, laying aside the
proper proof of Religion, to determine from the course
of nature only, whether it were most probable, that the
righteous or the wicked would have the advantage in a
future life; there can be no doubt, but that he would
determine the probability to be, that the former would.
The course of nature then, in the view of it now given
furnishes us with a real practical proof of the obligations
of Religion.
Secondly, When, conformably to what Religion teaches
us, God shall reward and punish virtue and vice as such,
so as that every one shall, upon the whole, have his
deserts; this distributive justice will not be a thing
different in kind, but only in degree, from what we experience in his present government. It will be that in
effect, toward which we now see a tendency.  It will
be no more than the completion of that moral government, the principles and beginning of which have been
shown, beyond all dispute, discernible in the present
constitution and course of nature. And from  hence
it follows,
Thirdly, That, as under the natural government of God,
our experience of those kinds and degrees of happiness
and misery, which we do experience at present, gives
just ground to hope for, and to fear, higher degrees
and other kinds of both in a future state, supposing a
future state admitted: so under his moral government our
experience, that virtue and vice are, in the manners above
mentioned, actually rewarded and punished at present,
in a certain degree, gives just ground to hope and to
fear, that they may be rewarded and punished in a higher
degree hereafter. It is acknowledged indeed that this
alone is not sufficient ground to think, that they actually
will be rewarded and punished in a higher degree, rather
than in a lower: but then,
Lastly, There is sufficient ground to think so, from the
good and bad tendencies of virtue and vice. For these
tendencies are essential, and founded in the nature of
theings: whereas the hinderances. to their becoming effect




104         MORL GOVERNMENT OF' GOD.           [PART L
are, in numberless cases, not necessary, but artificial
only.  Now it may be much more strongiy argued, that
these tendencies, as well as the actual rewards and
punishments, of virtue and vice, which arise directly out
of the nature of things, will remain hereafter, than that
the accidental hinderances of them will. And if these
hinderances do not remain; those rewards and punishments cannot but be carried on much farther towards the
perfection of moral government: i. e. the tendencies of
virtue and vice will become effect; but when, or where,
or in what particular way, cannot be known at all, but by
revelation.
Upon the whole: there is a kind of moral government
implied in God's natural government:* virtue and vice
are naturally rewarded and punished as beneficial and
mischievous to society;t and rewarded and punished directly as virtue and vice.$ The notion then of a moral
scheme of government is not fictitious, but natural; for
it is suggested to our thoughts by the constitution and
course of nature: and the execution of this scheme is
actually begun, in the instances here mentioned. And
these things are to be considered as a declaration of the
Author of Nature, for virtue, and against vice: they give
a credibility to the supposition of their being rewarded
and punished hereafter; and also ground to hope and to
fear, that they may be rewarded and punished in higher
degrees than they are here. And as all this is confirmed, so the argument for Religion, from the constitution
and course of nature, is carried on farther, by observing,
that there are natural tendencies, and, in innumerable
cases, only artificial hinderances, to this moral scheme's
being carried on much farther towards perfection, than
it is at present.~  The notion then of a moral scheme
of government, much more perfect than what is seen, is
not a fictitious, but a natural notion; for it is suggested
to our thoughts, by the essential tendencies of virtue and
vice. And these tendencies are to be considered as intimations, as implicit promises and threatenings, from the
Author of Nature, of much greater rewards and punishments to follow virtue and vice, than do at pr.sent. And
P P. 87.    t P. 8,    P 89, &c.  ~ P. 95, &c.




MeAP. IV,]      OF A STATE OF TRIAL.             105
indeed, every natural tendency, which is to continue, but
which is hindered from becoming effect by only accidental causes, affords a presumption, that such tendency
will, some time or other, become effect: a presumption
in degree proportionable to the length of the duration,
through which such tendency will continue. And from
these things together, arises a real presumption, that the
moral scheme of government established in nature, shall
be carried on much farther towards perfection hereafter;
and, I think, a presumption that it will be absolutely
completed.  But from these things, joined with the moral
nature which God has given us, considered as given us
by him, arises a practical proof* that it will be completed:
a proof from fact; and therefore a distinct one from that
which is deduced froml the eternal and unalterable relaLio1ns, the fitness and unfitness of actions.
CHAP. IV.
OF A STATE OF PROBATION, AS IMPLYING TRIAL,
DIFFICULTIES, AND DANGER.
THE general doctrine of Religion, that our present life is
i state of probation for a future one, comprehends under
it several particular things, distinct from each other.
But the first and most common meaning of it seems tc
be, that our future interest is now depending, and de.
pending upon ourselves; that we have scope and opportunities here, for that good and bad behaviour, which
God will reward and punish hereafter; together with
temptations to one, as well as inducements of reason to
the other. And this is, in a great measure, the same
with saying, that we are under the moral government of
God, and to give an account of our actions to him. For
the notion of a future account and general righteous
judgment, implies some sort of temptations to what is
wrong: otherwise there would be no moral possibility of
doing wrong, nor ground for judgment, or discrimination.
But there is this difference, that the word probation is
*See this proof drawn out briefly, Ch. vi.




106             OF A STATE OF TRIAL.          rP&RT I
more distinctly and particularly expressive of allurements
to wrong, or difficulties in adhering uniformly to what is
right, and ot the danger of miscarrying by such temptations, than tihe words moral goverznment. A state of probation then, as thus particularly implying in it trial, difficulties, and danger, may require to be considered distinctly by itself.
And as the moral government of God, which Religion
teaches us, implies, that we are in a state of trial with
regard to a future world: so also his natural government
over us implies, that we are in a state of trial, in the like
sense, with regard to the present world. Natural government by rewards and punishments, as much implies
natural trial, as moral government does moral trial.
The natural government of God here meant* consists
i1n his annexing pleasure to some actions, and pain to
others, which are in our power to do or forbear, and in
i-vri1n, us notice of such appointment beforehand.  This
necessarily implies, that he has made our happiness and
mise'y, o1  lur interest, to depend in part upon ourselves.
And so far as men have temptations to any course of
action, whlich will probably occasion them greater tenlporal inconvenience and uneasiness, than satisfaction;
so far their temporal interest is in danger from themselves, or they are in a state of trial with respect to it.
Now people often blame others, and even themnselves,
for their misconduct in their temporal concerns.  And
we find many are greatly wanting to themselves, and
miss of that natural happiness, which they might have
obtained in the present life: perhaps every one does in
some degree. But many run themselves into great inconvenience, and into extreme distress and misery: not
through incapacity of knowing better, and doing better,
for themselves, which would be nothing to the present
purpose; but through their own fault.  And these things
necessarily imply temptation, and danger of miscarrying, in a greater or less degree with respect to oui
worldly interest or happiness. Every one too, without
having Religion in his thoughts, speaks of the hazards
which young people run, upon their setting out in the
*Ch. ii.




CHAP. IV..]     OF A STA[TE OF TRIAL.              1'7
world: hazards from other causes, than merely their ignorance, and unavoidable accidents.  And some courses
of vice, at least, being contrary to men's worldly interest
or good; temptations to these must at the same time be
temptations to forego our present and our future interest. Thus in our natural or temporal capacity, we are
in a state of trial, i. e. of difficulty and danger, analogols, or like to our moral and religious trial.
This will morie distinctly appear to any one, who
thinks it worth while, more distinctly, to consider, what
it is which constitutes our trial in both capacities, and to
observe, how mankind behave under it.
And that which constitutes this our trial, in both these
capacities, must be somewhat either in our external circumstances, or in our nature. For, on the one hand,
persons may be betrayed into wrong behaviour upon surprise, or overcome upon any other very singular and extraordinary external occasions; who would, otherwise,
have preserved their character of prudence and of virtue:
in which cases, every one, in speaking of the wrong behaviour of these persons, would impute it to such particular external circumstances.  And on the other hand,
men who have contracted habits of vice and folly of any
kind, or have some particular passions in excess, will
seek opportunities, and, as it were, go out of their way,
to gratify themselves in these respects, at the expense of
their wisdom and their virtue; led to it, as every one
would say, not by external temptations, but by such
habits and passions.  And the account of this last case
is, that particular passions are no more coincident with
-prudence, or that reasonable self-love, the end of which
is our worldly interest, than they are with the principle
of virtue and religion; but often draw contrary ways to
one, as well as to the other: and so such particular passions are as much temptations, to act imprudently with
regard to our worldly interest, as to act viciously.*
However, as wh.en we say, mnen are misled by external
circumstances of temptation; it cannot but be understood,
that there is somewhat within thetmseivtes, to render those
See Sermons preached at the Rolls, 1726. 2d ed. p. 205, &c. Pref. p, 25 &m
Serm. p. 21, &c.




108             OF A STATE OF TRIAL.            [PART I
circumstances temptations. or to render themi susceptible
of impressions froi'  them; so whlen we say, they are
misled by passions; it is always supposed, that there are
occasions, circumstances, and objects, exciting these passions, and affording means for gratifying them. And
therefore, temptations from within, and from without,
coincide, and mutually imply each other. Now the several external objects of the appetites, passions, and affections, being present to the senses, or offering themselves to the mind, and so exciting emotions suitable to
their nature; not only in cases where they can be gratified consistently with innocence and prudence, but also
in cases where they cannot, and yet can be gratified imprudently and viciously: this as really puts them in danger of voluntarily foregoing their present interest or
good, as their future; and as really renders self-denial
necessary to secure one, as the other: i. e. we are in a
like state of trial with respect to both, by the very same
passions, excited by the very same means.  Thus mankind having a temporal interest depending upon themselves, and a prudent course of behaviour being necessary to secure it; passions inordinately excited, whether
by means of example, or by any other external circumstance, towards such objects, at such timc.s, or in such
degrees, as that they cannot be gratified consistently with
worldly prudence; are temptations, dangerous, and too
often successful temptations, to forego a greater temporal good for a less; i. e. to forego what is, upon the
whole, our temporal interest, for the sake of a present
gratification. This is a description of our state of trial
in our temporal capacity. Substitute now the word
future for temporal, and virtue for prudence; and it will
be just as proper a description of our state of trial in our
religious capacity; so analogous are they to each other.
If, from consideration of this our like state of trial
in both capacities, we go on to observe farther, how mankind behave under it; we shall find there are some, who
hlave so little sense of it, that they scarce look beyond
the passing dav: they are so taken up with present gratifications, as to tiave, in A manner, no feeling of consequences, no regard to their future case or fortune in thlls




CHAP. Iv.I     OF A STATE DF TRIAL.             1C.9
life; any more than to their happiness in another, Some
appear to be blinded and deceived by inordinate passion,
in their worldly concerns, as much as in Religion.
Others are, not deceived, but, as it were, forcibly carried
away by the like passions, against their better judgment,
and feeble resolutions too of acting better.  And there
are men, and truly they are not a few, who shamelessly
avow, not their interest, but their mere will and pleasure,
to be their law of life: and who, in open defiance of
every thing that is reasonable, will go on in a course of
vicious extravagance, foreseeing, with no remorse and
little fear, that it will be their temporal ruin; and some
of them, under the apprehension of the consequences of
wickedness in another state. And to speak in the most
moderate way, human creatures are not only continually
liable to go wrong voluntarily, but we see likewise that
they often actually do so, with respect to their temporal
interests, as well as with respect to Religion.
Thus our difficulties and dangers, or our trials, in our
temporal and our religious capacity, as they proceed
from the same causes, and have the same effect upon
men's behaviour, are evidently analogous, and of the same
kind.
It may be added, that as the difficulties and dangers
of miscarrying in our religious state of trial, are greatly
increased, and one is ready to think, in a manner wholly
made, by the ill behaviour of others; by a wrong education, wrong in a moral sense, sometimes positively vicious; by general bad example; by the dishonest artifices
which are got into business of all kinds; and, in very
many parts of the world, by religion's being corrupted
into superstitions, which indulge men in their vices: so
in like manner, the difficulties, of conducting ourselves
prudently in respect to our present interest, and our danger of being led aside from pursuing it, are greatly increased, by a foolish education; and, after we come to
mature age, by the extravagance and carelessness of
others, whom we have intercourse with: and by mistaken
notions, very generally prevalent, and taken up from comrn.
mon opinion, concerning temporal happiness, and wherein it consists. And persons, by their own negligence




110            OF A STATE OF TRIAL.           [PART I.
and folly in their temp( ral affairs, no less than b) a course
of vice, bring themselves into new difficulties; and, by
habits of indulgence, become less qualified to go through
them: and one irregularity after another, embarrasses
things to such a degree, that they know not whereabout
they are; and often makes the path of conduct so intricate and perplexed, that it is difficult to trace it out; difficult even to determine what is the prudent or the moral
part. Thus, for instance, wrong behaviour in one stage
of life, youth; wrong, I mean, considering ourselves only
in our temporal capacity, without taking in religion;
this, in several ways, increases the difficulties of right
behaviour in mature age; i. e. puts us into a more dis-.
advantageous state of trial in our temporal capacity.
We are an inferior part of the creation of God. There
are natural appearances of our being in a state of degradation.* And we certainly are in a condition, which
does not seem, by any means, the most advantageous we
could imagine or desire, either in our natural or moral
capacity, for securing either our present or future interest. However, this condition, low and careful and uncertain as it is, does not afford any just ground of complaint. For, as men may manage their temporal affairs
with prudence, and so pass their days here on earth in
tolerable ease and satisfaction, by a moderate degree of
care: so likewise'with regard to religion, there is no
more required than what they are well able to do, and
what they must be greatly wanting to themselves, if they
neglect. And for persons to have that put upon them,
which they are well able to go through, and no more,
we naturally consider as an equitable thing; supposing
it done by proper authority. Nor have we any more
reason to complain of it, with regard to the Author of
Nature, than of his not having given us other advantages,
belonging to other orders of creatures.
But the thing here insisted upon is, that the state or
trial, which Religion teaches ils we are in, is rendered
credible, by its being throughout uniform and of a piece
with the general conduct of Providence towards us, in all
other respects within the compass of our knowledge.
Part II. Chap. v.




C.aP IV.]      OF A STATE OF'Ri1AL.            Il l
Indeed if mankind, considered in their natural capacity,
as inhabitants of this world only, found themselves, from
their birth to their death, in a settled state of security
and happiness, without any solicitude or thought of their
own: or if they were in no danger of being brought into inconveniences and distress, by carelessness, or the
folly of passion, through bad example, the treachery of
others, or the deceitful appearances of things: were this
our natural condition, then it might seem strange, and
be some presumption against the truth of Religion, that
it represents our future and more general interest, as not
secure of course, but as depending upon our behaviour,
and requiring recollection and self-government to obtain
it. For it might be alleged, " What you say is our condition, in one respect, is not in any wise of a sort with
what we find, by. experience, our condition is in another.
Our whole present interest is secured to our hands, without any solicitude of ours; and why should not our
fiuture interest, if we have any such, be so too P"  But
since, on the contrary, thought and consideration, the
voluntary denying ourselves many things which we desire, and a course of behaviour, far from being always
agreeable to us; are absolutely necessary to our acting
even a common decent, and common prudent part, so as
to pass with any satisfaction through the present world,
and be received upon any tolerable good terms in it:
since this is the case, all presumption against self-denial
and attention being necessary to secure our higher interest, is removed. Had we not experience, it might, perhaps speciously, be urged, that it. is improbable any thing
of hazard and danger should be put upon us by an infinite Being; when every thing which is hazard and danger in our manner of conception, and will end in error,
confusion, and misery, is now already certain in his foreknowledge. And indeed, why any thing of hazard and
danger should be put upon such frail creatures as we are.
may well be thought a difficLlty in speculation; and cannot but be so, till we know the whole, or, however, much
more of the case.  But still the constitution of nature is
as it is. Our happiness and misery are trusted to our
conduct, and made to depend upon it.  Somewhat, and,




112                OF A STATE f)F            [PART A
in many circumstances, a great deal too, is put upon us,
either to do, or to suffer, as we choose. And all the various miseries of life, which people bring upon themselves
by negligence a, d folly, and might have avoided by proper care, are instances of this: which miseries are beforehand, just as contingent and undetermined as their
conduct, and left to be determined by it.
-These observations are an answel to the objections
against the credibility of a state of trial, as implying
temptations, and real danger of miscarrying with regard
to our general interest, under the moral government of
God: and they show, that, if we are at all to be considered in such a capacity, and as having such an interest;
the general analogy of Providence must lead us to apprehend ourselves in danger of miscarrying, in different
degrees, as to this interest, by our neglecting to act tiie
proper part belonging to us in that capacity.  For we
have a present interest under the government of God,
which we experience here upon earth. And this interest, as it is not forced upon us, so neither is it offered to
our acceptance, but to our acquisition; in such sort, as
that we are in danger of missing it, by means of temptations to neglect, or act contrary to it; and without attention and self-denial, must and do miss of it. It is then
perfectly credible, that this may be our case, with respect
to that chief and final good, which Religion proposes
to us.
CHAP. V.
OF A STATE OF PROBATION, AS INTENDED FOR MORAL
DISCIPLINE AND IMPROVEMENT.
FROM the consideration of our being in a probation-state,
of so much difficulty and hazard, naturally arises the
question, how we came to be placed in it P But such a
general inquiry as this would be found involved in insuperable difficulties.  For, though some of these difficulties would be lessened by observing, that all wickedness is voluntary, as is implied in its very notion; and
that many of the miseries of life have apparent good,




CwAir. V.]       MORAL DISCIPLINE.                 113
effects: I et, when we consider other circumstances belonging to both, and what must be the consequence of
the former in a life to come; it cannot but be acknowledged plain folly and presumption, to pretend to give an
account of the whole reasons of this matter: the whole
reasons of our being allotted a condition, out of which so
much wickedness and misery, so circumstanced, would
in fact arise. Whether it be not beyond our faculties,
not only to find out, but even to understand, the whole
account of this; or, though we should be supposed capable of understanding it, yet, whether it would be of service or prejudice to us to be informed of it, is impossible
to s.;y.  But as our present condition can in no wise be
sho 7n inconsistent with the perfect moral government
of God: so Religion teaches us we were placed in it,
thrft, we might qualify ourselves, by the practice of virtue,
for another state which is to follow it. And this, though
but a partial answer, a very partial one indeed, to the inquiry now mentioned; yet, is a more satisfactory answer
to another, which is of real, and of the utmost importance
to us to have answered: the inquiry, What is our business here? The known end then, why we are placed
in a state of so much affliction, hazard, and difficulty, is,
our improvement in virtue and piety, as the requisite
qualification for a future state of security and happiness.
Now the begiiining of life, considered as an education
for mature age in the present world, appears plainly, at
first sight, analogous to this our trial for a future one:
the former being in our temporal capacity, what the latter is in our religious capacity.  But some observations
common to both of them, and a more distinct consideration ofd each, will more distinctly show the extent and,
force of the'analogy between them; and the credibility,
which arises from hence, as well as from the nature of
the thing, that the present life. was intended to be a state
of discipline for a future one.
I. Every species of creatures is, we see, designed for
a particular way of life; to which, the nature, the capacities, temper, and qualifications of each species, are as
necessary, as their external circumstances.  Both conme
H




114               OF A STATE OF             [PLIT L
into the notion of such state, or particular way of life,
and are constituent parts of it. Change a man's capacities or character to the degree in which it is conceivable
they may be changed; and he would be altogether incapable of a human course of life, and human' happiness;
as incapable, as if, his nature continuing unchanged, he
were placed in a world, where he had no sphere of action, nor any objects to answer his appetites, passions,
and affections of any sort. One thing is set over against
another, as an ancient writer expresses it. Our nature
corresponds to our external condition. Without this
correspondence, there would be no possibility of any
such thing as human life and human happiness: which
life and happiness are, therefore, a result from our nature
and condition jointly: meaning by human life, not living
in the literal sense, but the whole complex notion commonly understood by those words. Sc that, without determining what will be the employment and happiness,
the particular life, of good men hereafter; there must be
some determinate capacities, some necessary character
and qualifications, without which persons cannot but be
utterly incapable of it: in like manner, as there must be
some, without which men would be incapable of their
present state of life. Now,
II. The constitution of human creatures, and indeed
of all creatures which come under our notice, is such,
as that they are capable of naturally becoming qualified
for states of life, for which they were once wholly unqualified. In imagination we may indeed conceive of
creatures, as incapable of having any of their faculties
naturally enlarged, or as being unable naturally to acquire
any new qualifications: but the faculties of every species
known to us are made for enlargement; for acquirements
of experience and habits. We find ourselves in particular endued with capacities, not only of perceiving ideas,
and of knowledge or perceiving truth, but also of storing
up our ideas and knowledge by memory. We are capable, not only of acting, and of having different momentary impressions made upon us; but of getting a new
facility in any kind of action, and of settled alterations in
our temper or character.  The power of the two last is




CRaY V.]         MORAL DISCIPLINE.              115
the power of halits.  But neither the perception of
ideas, nor knowledge of any sort, are habits; though
absolutely necessary to the forming of them.  However,
apprehension, reason, memory, which are the capacities
of acqciiring knowledge, are greatly improved by exercise. Whether the word habit is applicable to all these
improvements, and in particular how far the powers of
memory and of habits may be powers of the same nature,
I shall not inquire. But that perceptions come into our
minds readily and of course, by means of their having
been there before, seems a thi.ng of the same sort, as
readiness in any particular kind of action, proceeding
from being accustomed to it. And aptness to recollect
practical observations of service in our conduct, is plainly
habit in many cases. There are habits of perception,
and habits of action. An instance of the former, is our
constant and even involuntary readiness, in correcting
the impressions of our sight concerning magnitudes and
distances, so as to substitute judgment in the room of
sensation imperceptibly to ourselves. And it seems as
if all other associations of ideas not naturally connected
might be called passive habits; as properly as our readiness in understanding languages upon sight, or hearing
of words. And our readiness in speaking and writing
them is an instance of the latter, of active habits.  For
distinctness, we may consider habits, as belonging to the
body, or the mind: and the latter will be explained by
the former. Under the former are comprehended all
bodily activities or motions, whether graceful or unbecoming, which are owing to use: under the latter, general habits of life and conduct; such as those of obedience
and submission to authority, or to any particular person;
those of veracity, justice, and charity; those of attention,
industry, self-government, envy, revenge. And habits
of this latter kind seem produced by repeated acts, as
well as the former.  And in like manner as habits belonging to the body are produced by external acts: so
habits of the mind are produced by the exertion of inward practical principles; i. e. by carrying them into act,
or acting upon them; the principles of obedience, of
veracity, justice, and charity.  Nor can those habits be
H 2




115                 OF A STATE OFP               PA tL
formed by any external course of action, otherwise than
as it proceeds from these principles: because it is only
these inward principles exerted, which are strictly acts
cf obedience, of veracity, of justice, and of charity.  So
likewise habits of attention, industry, self-government,
are in the same manner acquired by exercise; and habits
of envy and revenge by indulgence, whether in outward
act, or in thought and intention; i. e. inward act: for
such intention is an act. Resolutions also to do well are
properly acts. And endcavouring to enforce upon our
own minds a practical sense of virtue, or to beget in
others that practical sense of it, which a man really has
himself, is a virtuous act. All these, therefore, may
and will contribute towards forming good habits.  Blut
going over the theory of virtue in one's thoughts, talking
well, and drawing fine pictures, of it; this is so far from
necessarily or certainly conducing to form a habit of it,
in him who thus employs himself, that it may harden the
mind in a contrary course, and render it gradually more
insensible; i. e. form a habit of insensibility to all moral
considerations.  For, from  our very faculty of habits,
passive impressions, by being repeated, grow weaker.
Thoughts, by often passing through the mind, are felt less
sensibly: being accustomed to danger, begets intrepidity,
i. e. lessens fear; to distress, lessens the passion of pity;
to instances of others' mortality, lessens the sensible apprehension of our own. And from these two observations together; that practical habits are formed and
strengthened by repeated acts, and that passive impressions grow weaker by being repeated upon us; it must
follow, that active habits may be gradually forming and
strengthening, by a course of acting upon such and such
motives and excitements, whilst these motives and excitements themselves are, by proportionable degrees,
growing less sensible; i. e. are continually less and less
sensibly felt, even as the active habits strengthen. And
experience confirms this: for active principles, at the
very time that they are less lively in perception than they
were, are found to be, somehow, wrought more thoroughly into the temper and character, and become more effectual in influencing our practice.  The three things just




C'ar. Y.]        MORAL DISCIPLINE.               I 1
mentioned may afford instances of it. Perception of
danger is a natural excitement of passive fear, and active
caution: and by being inured to danger, habits of the latter are gradually wrought, at the same time that the former gradually lessens.  Perception of distress in others
is a natural excitement, passively to pity, and actively to
relieve it: but let a man set himself to attend to, inquire out, and relieve distressed persons, and he cannot
but grow less and less sensibly affected with the various
miseries of life, with which he must become acquainted;
when yet. at the same time, benevolence, considered not
as a passion, but as a practical principle of action, will
strengthen: and whilst he passively compassionates the
distressed less, he will acquire a greater aptitude actively to assist and befriend them. So also at the same time
that the daily instances of men's dying around us give
us daily a less sensible passive feeling or apprehension
of our own mortality, such instances greatly contribute
to the strengthening a practical regard to it in serious
men; i. e. to forming a habit of acting with a constant
view to it. And this seems again further to show, that
passive impressions made upon our minds by admonition,
experience, example, though they may have a remote
efficacy, and a very great one, towards forming active
habits, yet can have this efficacy no otherwise than by
inducing us to such a course of action: and that it is not
being affected so and so, but acting, which forms those
habits: only it must be always remembered, that real
endeavours to enforce good impressions upon ourselves
are a species of virtuous action.  Nor do we know how
far it is possible, in the nature of things, that effects
should be wrought in us at once, equivalent to habits;
i. e. what is wrought by use and exercise. However, the
thing insisted upon is, not what may be possible, but
what is in fact the appointment of nature: which is,
that active habits are to be formed by exercise. Their
progress may be so gradual, as to be imperceptible in its
steps: it may be hard to explain the faculty, by which
we are capable of habits, throughout its several parts;
and to trace it up to its original, so as to d(istinguish it
from all others in our mind: and it seems as if contrary




118               OF A STATE OF              [Fel*
effects were to be ascribed to it.  But the thing in general, that our nature is formed to vield, in some sach manner as this, to use and exercise, is matter of certain experience.
Thus, by accustoming ourselves to any course of action, we get an aptness to go on, a facility, readiness, and
often pleasure, in it.  The inclinations which rendered
us averse to it grow weaker: the difficulties in it, not
only the imaginary but the real ones, lessen: the reasons
for it offer themselves of course to our thoughts upon all
occasions: and the least glimpse of them is sufficient to
make us go on, in a course of action, to which we have
been accustomed. And practical principles appear to
grow stronger, absolutely in themselves, by exercise:
as well as relatively, with regard to contrary principles,
which, by being accustomed to submit, do so habitually,
and of course. And thus a new character, in several
respects, may be formed; and many habitudes of life
not given by nature, but which nature directs us to acquire
III. Indeed we may be assured, that we should nevet
have had these capacities of improving by experience,
acquired knowledge, and habits, had they not been necessary, and intended to be made use of. And accordingly we find them so necessary, and so much intended.
that without them we should be utterly incapable of that
which was the end for which we were made, considered
in our temporal capacity only: the employments and
satisfactions of our mature state of life.
Nature does in nowise qualify us wholly, much less
at once, for this mature state of life. Even maturitvy of
understanding, and bodily strength, are not only arrived
to gradually, but are also very much owing to the con -
tinued exercise of our powers of body and mind from
infancy. But if we suppose a person brought into the
world with both these in maturity, as far as this is conceivable; he would plainly at first be as unqualified for
the human life of mature age, as an idiot.  He would be
in a manner.distracted, with astonishment, and apprehension, and curiosity, and suspense: nor can one guess,
how long it would be, before he would be familiarized to
himself and the obiects about him  enough, even to set




CMAr y.           MORAL DISCIPLINE.             119
himself to any thing. It may be questioned t3o, whether
the natural information of his sight and hearing would
be of any manner of use at all tc him in acting, before
experience. And it seems, that men would be strangely
headstrong and self-willed, and disposed to exert themselves with an impetuosity, which would render society
insupportable, and the living in it impracticable; were it
not for some acquired moderation and self-government,
some aptitude and readiness in restraining themselves,
and concealing their sense of things.  Want of every
thing of this kind which is learnt would render a man as
uncapable of society, as want of language would; or as
}his natural ignorance of any of the particular employments of life would render him uncapable of providing
himself with the common conveniences, or supplying the
necessary wants of it. In these respects, and probably
in many more of which we have no particular notion,
mankind is left, by nature, an unformed, unfinished creature; utterly deficient and unqualified, before the acquirement of knowledge, experience, and habits, for that
mature state of life, which was the end of his creation,
considering him as related only to this world.
But then, as nature,has endued us with a power of
supplying those de ficienlcies, by acquired knowledge, experience, and habits: so likewise we are placed in a condition, in infancy, childhood. and youth, fitted for it; fitted for our acquiring those qualifications of all sorts, which
we stand in need of in mature age. Hence children, from
their very birth, are daily growing acquainted with the
objects about them, with the scene in which they are
placed, and to have a future part; and learning somewhat or other, necessary to the performance of it.  The
sutbordinations, to which they are accustomed in domestic life, teach them self-government in common behaviour abroad, and prepare them for subjection and obedience to civil authority. What passes before their eyes,
and daily happens to them, r;ivr   theln experience, caution against treachery and deceit, together with numberless little rules of acti,,ll andl c ndurct, which' we could
not live without; and which are learnt so insensibly and
so perfecty, as to be mistalkern pterhaps for instinct:




120                OF A STATE O)F             [PalT I
though they are the effect of long experience and exer.
cise; as much so as language, or knowledge in particular business, or the qualifications and behaviour belonging to the several ranks and professions. Thus the beginning of our days is adapted to be, and is, a state of
education in the theory and practice of mat.ure life. We
are much assisted in it by example, instruction, and the
care of others; but a great deal is left to ourselves to
do. And of this, as part is done easily and of course;
so part requires diligence and care, the voluntary foregoing many things which we desire, and setting ourselves
to what we should have no inclination to, but for the
necessity or expedience of it. For that labour and industry, which the station of so many absolutely requires,
they would be greatly unqualified for, in maturity, as
those in other stations would be for any other sorts of
application; if both were not accustomed to them in their
youth.  And, according as persons behave themselves,
in the general education which all go through, and in the
particular ones adapted to particular employments; their
character is formed, and made appear; they recommend
themselves more or less; and are capable of, and placed
in, different stations in the society of mankind.
The former part of life, then, is to be considered as
an important opportunity, which nature puts into our
hands; and which, when lost is not to be recovered.
And our being placed in a state of discipline throughout
this life, for another world, is a providential disposition
of things, exactly of the same kind, as our being placed
in a state of discipline during childhood, for mature age.
Our condition in both respects is uniform and of a-piece,
and comprehended under one and the same general law
of nature.
And if we were not able at all to discern, how or in
what way the present life could be our preparation for
another; this would be no objection against the credibility of its being so. For we do not discern, how food ano
sleep contribute to the growth of the body; nor could
have any thought that they would, before we had experience.  Nor do children at all think, on the one hand,
that the sports and exercises, to which they are so Ixlucl




CAP. V.] VMORAL DISCIPLINE.                   121
addicted, contribute to their health and growth; nor, on
the other, of thle necessity which there is for their being
restrained in them: nor are they capable of understanding the use of many parts of discipline, which nevertheless they must be made to go through, in order to qualify them for the business of mature age. Were we not
able then to discover, in what respects the present life
could form us for a future one; yet nothing would be
more suppFsable than that it might, in some respects or
other, frrom the general analogy of Providence. And
this, for ought I see, might reasonably be said even
thoucgh we should not take in the consideration of God's
moral government over the world. But,
IV. Take in this consideration, and consequently, that
the character of virtue and piety is a necessary qualification for the future state; and then we may distinctly see,
how, and in what respects, the present life may be a preparation for it: since we want, and are capable of, improvement in that character, by moral and religious habits;
and the present life is fit to be a state of discipline for
such improvement: in like manner as we have already
observed, how, and in what respects, infancy, childhood, and youth, are a necessary preparation, and a natural state of discipline, for matare age.
Nothing which we at present see would lead us to the
thought of a solitary unactive state hereafter: but, if we
judge at all from the analogy of nature, we must suppose,
according to the Scripture account of it, that it will be a
community. And there is no shadow of any thing unreasonable in conceiving, though there be no analogy for
it, that this community will be, as the Scripture represents it, under the more immediate, or, if such an expression may be used, the.more sensible government of God.
Nor is our ignorance, what will be the employments of
this happy community, nor our consequent ignorance,
what particular scope or occasion there will be for the
exercise of veracity, justice, and charity, amongst the
members of it with regard to each other; any proof, that
there will be no sphere of exercise for those virtues.
Much less, if',that were possible, is our ignorance any
proof, that there will be no occasion for that frame ol




122                OF A STATE OF              C[PaT T,
mind, or character, which is formed by the daily prac.
tice of those particular virtues here, and which is a result from it. This at least must be owned in general,
that, as the government established in the universe is moral, the character of virtue and piety must, in some way
or other, be the condition of our happiness or the qualification for it.
Now from what is above observed, concerning our natural power of habits, it is easy to see, that we are capable of moral improvement by discipline.  And how
greatly we want it, need not be proved to any one who
is acquainted with the great wickedness of mankind; or
even with those imperfections, which the best are conscious of. But it is not perhaps distinctly attended to by
every one, that the occasion which human creatures have
for discipline, to improve in them this character of virtue
and piety, is to be traced up higher than to excess in the
passions, by indulgence and habits of vice. Mankind,
and perhaps all finite creatures, from the very constitution of their nature, before habits of virtue, are deficient,
and in danger of deviating from what is right; and therefore stand in need of virtuous habits, for a security against
this danger.  For, together with the general principle of
moral understanding, we have in our inward frame various affections towards particular.external objects. These
affections are naturally, and of right, sibject to the government of the moral principle, as to the occasions upon
which they may be gratified; as to the times, degrees,
and manner, in which the objects of them may be pursued: but then the principle of virtue can neither excite
them, nor prevent their being excited. On the contrary,
they are naturally felt, when the objects of them are present to the mind, not only before all consideration whether they can be obtained by lawful means, but after itis found they cannot.  For the natural objects of affection continue so; the necessaries, conveniences, and
pleasures of life, remain naturally desirable; though they
cannot be obtained innocently: nay, though they cannot
possibly be obtained at all.  And when the objects of
any affection Wunavever cannot be obtained without unlawful means; but mrn,y be obtained by them: such affec.




CELl. V.                   MORAL DISCIPLINE.                                 123
tion, though  its being  excited, and  its  continuinl    some
time in the mind, be as innocent as it is natural and rncessary; yet cannot but be conceived to have a tendency to incline persons to venture upon such unlawful
means: and therefore must be conceived as putting
them in some danger of it. Now what is the general
security against this danger, against their actually deviating from right? As the danger is, so also must the security be, from within: from the practical principle of
virtue.*  And the strengthening or improving this principle, considered as practical, or as a principle of action,
will lessen the danger, or increase the security against it.
And this moral principle is capable of improvement, by
proper discipline and exercise: by recollecting the practical impressions which example and experience have
made upon us: and, instead of following humour and
mere inclination, by continually attending to the equity
and right of the case, in whatever we are engaged, be it
in greater or less matters; and accustoming ourselves always to act upon it; as being itself the just and natural
motive of action; and as this moral course of behaviour
must necessarily, under the divine government, be our
final interest.    Thus the principle of virtue, improved into
a habit, oJf which improvement we are thus capoable, will
plainly  be, in proportion  to  the  strength  oJ' it, a  security
against the danger which finite creatures are in, fiom  the
very nature of propension, or particular affections.  This
way of putting the matter, supposes particular affections
to remain in a future state; which it is scarce possible
to avoid supposing. And if they do; we clearly see, that
It may be thought, that a sense of interest would as effectually restrain crea,
tures from doing wrong.  But if by a sense of interest is meant a speculative coivic.
tion or belief, that such and such indulgence would occasion theml  glreater uineasi.
ness, upon the whole, than satisfiactioll; it is contrary to presellt exper iflnce to say,
that this sense of interest is sufficient to restrain them  from  thus indullging them.
selves.  Alld it by a sense of interest is meant a practical regard to \wl't is upon the
whole our happiness; this is not only coincident with the principle of virtue or moral rectitude, hut is a part of the idea itself.    -ad it is evident this rtasonable selflove wants to be improved, as really as any principle in our nature.  For we daily
see it overmatched, not only by the more boisterous passions, but by curiosity, shame,
love of imitation, by any thing, even indolence: especially if the int( rest, the temporal interest, suppose, which is the end of such self love, be at a (listance.  So
greatly are profligate men mistaken, when they affirm  they are wholly governed by
interestedness and self-love; and so little cause is there for moralists to diselai
this principle. —See p. 108.




124                OF A STATE OF               [PART I.
acquired habits of virtue and sAlf-government mlay be
necessary for the regulation of them.  However, though
we were not distinctly to take in this supposition, but to
speak only in general; the thing really comes to the
same. For habits of virtue, thus acquired by discipline,
are improvement in virtue: and improvement in virtue
must be advancement in happiness, if the government of
the universe be moral
From these things we may observe, and it will further
show this our natural and original need of being improved by discipline, how it comes to pass, that creatures
made upright fall; and that those who preservCe their
uprightness, by so doing, raise themselves to a more
secure state of virtue. To say that the former is accounted for by the nature of liberty, is to say no more, tlian
that an event's actually happening is accounted for t a,1.
mere possibility of its happening.  But it seems distinct -
ly conceivable from the very nature of particular affections or propensions.  For, suppose creatures intendled
for such a particular state of life, for which such propensions were necessary: suppose them endued with such
propensions, together with moral understanding, as well
including a practical sense of virtue as a speculative perception of it; and that all these several principles, both
natural and moral, forming an inward constitution ot
mnind, were in the most exact proportion possible; i. e.
in a proportion the most exactly adapted to their intended state of life; such creatures would be made upright,
or finitely perfect. Now particular propensions, from
their very nature, must be felt, the objects of them being
present; though they cannot be gratified at all, or not
with the allowance of the moral principle. But if they
can be gratified without its allowance, or by contradicting it; then they must be conceived to have some tendency, in how low a degree soever, yet some tendency, to
induce persons to such forbidden gratification.  This
tendency, in some one particular propension, may be in.
creased, by the greater frequency of occasions naturally
exciting it, than of occasions exciting others.  The least
voluntary indulget ce in forbidden circumstances, though
but m thought, will increase this wrorg tendency; anrl nmay




RtAP. r.]         MORAL DISCIPLINE.               1] 25
increase it further, till, peculiar conjunctures perbhaps
conspiring, it becomes effect; and:anger of deviating
from  right, ends in actual deviation from it; a darger
necessarily arising from the very nature of propension;
and which therefore could not have been prevented,
though it might have been escaped, or got innocently
tllrough.  The case would be, as if we were to suppose
a straight path marked out for a person, in which such a
degree of attention would keep him steady: but if he
would not attend in this degree, any one of a thousand
objects, catching his eye, might lead him out of it. Now
it is impossible to say, how much even the first full overt
act of irregularity might disorder the inward constitution;
uinsettle the adjustments, and alter the proportions, which
formed it, and in which the uprightness of its make con-.
sisted: but repetition of irregularities would produce
habits.  And thus the constitution would be spoiled; and
"reatures made upright, become corrupt and depraved in
their settled character, proportionably to their repeate l
irregularities in occasional acts.  But, on the contrary,
these creatures might have improved and raised themselves, to a higher and more secure state of virtue, by the
contrary behaviour: by steadily following the moral
principle, supposed to be one part of their nature: and
thus withstanding that unavoidable danger of defection,
which necessarily arose from propension, the other part
of it.  For, by thus preserving their integrity for some
time, their danger would lessen; since propensions, by
being inured to submit, would do it more easily and of
course: and their security against this lessening danger
would increase; since the moral principle would gain
additional strength by exercise: both which things are
implied in the notion of virtuous habits. Thus then vi..
cious indulgence is not only criminal in itself, but also
depraves the inward constitution and character. And virtuous -self-government is not only right in itself, but also
improves the inward constitution or character: acnd may
improve it to such a degree, that thollgh we should suppose it imnpssiblfe fbr particular affcctions to be absolutely coincident with the moral principle; an)d consequently should allow, that such creatures as have been above




126                OF A STATE OF'PART.
su posed, would for ever remain defectible; yet their
danger of actually deviating from right may be almost
infinitely lessened, and they fully fortified against what
remains of it; if that may be called danger, against which
there is an adequate, effectual security. But still, this
their higher perfection may continue to consist in habits
of virtue formed in a state of discipline, and this their
more complete security remain to proceed from them.
And thus it is plainly conceivable, that creatures without
blemish, as they came out of the hands of God, may be
in danger of going wrong; and so may stand in need of
the security of virtuous habits, additional to the moral
principle wrought into their natures by him. That which
is the ground of their danger, or their want of security,
may be considered as a deficiency in them, to which virtuous habits are the natural supply. And as they are
naturally capable of being raised and inproved by discipline, it may be a thing fit and requisite, that they
should be placed in circumstances with an eye to it: in
circumstances peculiarly fitted to be to them a state of
discipline for their improvement ill virtue.
But how much more strongly must this hold with respect to those who have corrupted their natures, are
fallen from their original rectitude, and whose passions
are become excessive by repeated violations of their inward constitution?  Upright creatures may want to be
improved: depraved creatures want to be renewed.
Education and discipline, which may be in all degrees
and sorts of gentleness and of severity, are expedient for
those: but must be absolutely necessary for these.  For
these, discipline of the severer sort too, and in the higher degrees of it, must be necessary, in order to wear out
vicious habits; to recover their primitive strength of selfgovernment, which indulgence Inust have weakened; to
repair, as well as raise into a habit, the moral principle,
in order to their arriving at a secure state of vrtuous
happiness.
Now, whoever will consider the thing may clearly see,
that the present world is peculiarlyfit to be a state of
discipline for this purpose, to such as will set themselves
to mend anrd im pr,) 9. For, the various temptations with




Cm". V.]         MORAL DISCIPLINE.              127
which we are surrounded; our experience of the deceits
of wickedness; having been in many instances led wrong
ourselves; the great viciousness of the world; the infinite
disorders consequent upon it; our being made acquainted with pain and sorrow, either from our own feeling of
it, or from the sight of it in others; these things, though
some of them may indeed produce wrong effects upon
our minds, yet when duly reflected upon, have, all of
them, a direct tendency to bring us to a settled moderation and reasonableness of temper: the contrary bothl
to thoughtless levity, and also to that unrestrained
self-will, and violent bent to follow present inclination, which may be observed in undisciplined minds.
Such experience, as the present state affords, of the
frailty of our nature; of the boundless extravagance of
ungoverned passion; of the power which an infinite
Being has over us, by the various capacities of misery
which he has given us; in short, that kind and degree
of experience, which the present state affords us, that
the constitution of nature is such as to admit the possibility, the danger, and the actual event, of creatures losing their innocence and happiness, and becoming vicious
and wretched; hath a tendency to give us a practical
sense of things very different from  a mere speculative
knowledge, that we are liable to vice, and capable of
misery. And who knows, whether the security of crea-t
tures in the highest and most settled state of perfection,
may not in part arise, from their having had such a sense
of things as this, formed, and habitually fixed within them,
in some state of probation.  And passing through the
present world with that moral attention, which is necessary to the acting a right part in it, may leave everlasting impressions of this sort upon our minds.  But to be
a little more distinct: allurements to what is wrong;
difficulties in the discharge of our duty; our not being
able to act a uniform right part without some thought and
care; and the opportunities which we have, or imagine
we hlave, of avoiding what we dislike, or obtaining what
we desire, by unlawful means, when we either cannot
do it at all, or at least not so easily, by lawful ones;
these things, i. e. the snares and temptations of vice, are




128                OF A STATE OF             [PART 1.
what render the present world peculiarly fit So ble a state
of discipline, to those who will preserve their integrity:
because they render being upon our guard, resolution,
and the denial of our passions, necessary in order to that
end. And the exercise of such particular recollection,
intention of mind, and self-government, in the practice
of virtue, has, from the make of our nature, a peculiar
tendency to form habits of virtue; as imnplying, not only
a real, but also a more continued, and a more intense
exercise of the virtuous principle; or a more constant
and a stronger effort of virtue exerted into act.  Thus
suppose a person to know himself to be in particular
danger, for some time, of doing any thing wrong, which
yet he fully resolves not to do: continued recollection,
and keeping upon his guard, in order to make good his
resolution, is a continued exerting of that act of virtue in
a higzh degree, which need have been, and perhaps would
have been, only instantaneous and weak, had the temptation been so.  It is indeed ridiculous to assert, that selfdenial is essential to virtue and piety: but it would hamv;
been nearer the truth, though not strictly the truth itself,
to have said, that it is essential to discipline and improvement. For though actions materially virtuous, which
have no sort of difficulty, but are perfectly agreeable to
our particular inclinations, may possibly be done only
from these particular inclinations, and so may pot be any
exercise of the principle of virtue, i. e. not be virtuous
actions at all; vet, on the contrary, they may be an exercise of that principle: and when they are, they have a
tendency to form and fix the habit of virtue.  But when
the exercise of the virtuous principle is more continued,
oftener repeated, and more intense; as it must be in circumstances of danger, temptation, and difficulty, of any
kind and in any degree; this tendency is increased proportionably, and a more confirmed habit is the consequence.
This undoubtedly holds to a certain length: but how
far it may hold, I know not. Neither our intellectual
powers, nor our bodily strength can be improved beyond
such a degree: and both may be over-wrought.  Possibly there may be somewhat analogous to this, with re



Cr&t,. V.]       MORiAL DISCIPLINE.              129
spect to the moral character; which is scarce w ~rth consi'dering.  And! mention it only, lest it should come
into some persons' t0-oughts, not as an exception to the
foregoing observatiois, which perhaps it is; but as a
confutation of therm, which it is not. And there may be
several other exceptions. Observations of this kind cannot be supposed to hold minutely, and in every case. It
is enough that they hold in general. And these plainly
hold so far, as that from them may be seen distinctly,
which is all that is intended by them, that the present
world is peculiarly fit to be a state of discipline, for our
improvement in virtue and piety: in the same sense as
some sciences, by requiring and engaging the attention,
not to be sure of such persons as will not, but of such as
will, set themselves to them; are fit to form the mind to
habits of attention.
Indeed the present state is so far from proving, in
event, a discipline of virtue to the generality of men, that,
on the contrary, they seem to make it a discipline of vice.
And the viciousness of the world is, in different ways,
the great temptation which renders it a state of virtuous
discipline, in the degree it is, to good men.  The whole
end, and the whole occasion, of mankind's being placed
in such a state as the present, is not pretended to be accounted for. That which appears amidst the general corruption, is, that there are some persons, who, having
within them the principle of amendment and recovery, attend to and follow the notices of virtue and religion, be
they more clear or more obscure which are afforded them;
and that the present world is, not only an exercise of virtue in these persons, but an exercise of it in ways and
degrees, peculiarly apt to improve it: apt to improve it,
in some respects, even beyond what would be, by the exercise of it, required in a perfectly virtuous society, or in
a society of equally imperfect virtue with themselves. But
that the present world does not actually become a state
of moral discipline to many, even to the generality, i. e.
that they do not improve or grow better in it, cannot be
urged as a proof, that it was not intended for moral discipline, by any who at all observe the analogy of nature.
For, of the numerous seeds of vegetables and bodies of




130                OF A STATE OF              PFa. L
animals, which are adapted and put in the way, to improve to such a point or state of natural maturity and perfection, we do not see perhaps that one in a million actually does. Far the greatest part of them decay before'hey are improved to it; and appear to be absolutely
destroyed.  Yet no one, who does not deny all fin.al
causes, will deny, that those seeds and bodies, which do
attain to that point of maturity and perfection, answer
the end for which they were really designed by nature;
and therefore that nature designed them for such perfection. And I cannot forbear adding, though it is not to
the present purpose, that the appearance of such an
amazing waste in nature, with respect to these seeds and
bodies, by foreign causes, is to us as una~ r11i,,'table, as,
what is much more terrible, the present and Muture ruin
of so many moral agents by themselves, i. e. by vice.
Against this whole notion of moral discipline, it may
be objected, in another way; that so far as a course of
behaviour, materially virtuous, proceeds from hope and
fear, so far it is only a discipline and strengthening of
self-love. But doing what God commands, because he
commands it, is obedience, though it proceeds from hope
or fear. And a course of such obedience will form
habits of it.  And a constant regard to veracity, justice,
and charity. may form distinct habits of these particular
virtues; and will certainly form habits of self-government, and of denying our inclinations, whenever veracity,
justice, or charity requires it. Nor is there any foundation for this great nicety, with which some affect to distinguish in this case, in order to depreciate all Religion
proceeding from hope or fear. For, veracity, justice, and
charity, regard to God's authority, and to our own chief
interest, are not only all three coincident; but each of
them is, in itself, a just and natural motive or principle
of action. And he who begins a good life from any one
of them, and perseveres in it, as he is already in some
degree, so he cannot fail of becoming more and more, of
that character which is correspondent to the constitution
of nature as -moral; and to the relation which God
stands in to us as moral governor of it: nor consequently can he fail of obtaining that happiness, which this con



CHAP. V.]         MORAL DISCIPLINE.               131
stitution and reiation' necessarily suppose connected with
that character.
These several observations, concerning the active
principle of virtue and obedience to God's commands,
are applicable to passive submission or resignation to his
will: which is another essential part of a right character,
connected with the former, and very iruch in our power
to form ourselves to.  It may be imagined, that nothing
but afflictions can give occasion for or require this virtue; that it can have no respect to, nor be any way necessary to qualify for, a state of perfect happiness: but
it is not experience which can make us think thus.
Prosperity itself, whilst any thing supposed desirable is
not ours i ~,ts extravagant and unbounded thoughts.
Imagination is altogether as much a source of discontent,
as any thing in our external condition. It is indeed true,
that there can be no scope for patience, when sorrow
shall be no more; but there may be need of a temper of
mind, which shall have been formed by patience. For,
though self-love, considered merely as an active principle leading us to pursue our chief interest, cannot but be
uniformly coincident with the principle of obedience to
God's commands, our interest being rightly understood;
because this obedience, and the pursuit of our own chief
interest, must be in every case one and the same tling:
yet it may be questioned, whether self-love, considered
merely as the desire of our own interest or happiness,
can, from its nature, be thus absolutely and uniformly
coincident with the will of God; any more than particular affections can: coincident in such sort, as not to be
liable to be excited upon occasions and in degrees, impossible to be gratified consistently with the constitution
of things, or the divine appointments.  So that habits of
resignation may, upon this account, be requisite for all
creatures: habits, I say; which signify what is formed
by use. However, in general it is obvious that both
self-love and particular affection in human creatures considered only as passive feelings, distort and rend the
mind; and therefore stand in need of discipline.  Novw
denial of those particular affections, in a course of active
* P. 125
L2




132                 OF A STATE OF              [P.4RT 1
Dvirtue: and obedience to God's will, has a tendency to
moderate them; and seems also to have a tendency to
habituate the mind, to be easy and satisfied with that
degree of happiness which is allotted us, i. e. to moderate
sclf.-love.  But the proper discipline for resignation is
affliction.  For a right behaviour under that trial; recollecting ourselves so as to consider it in the view, in which
Religion teaches us to consider it, as from the hand of
God; receiving it as what he appoints, or thinks proper
to permit, in his world and under his government; this
will habituate the mind to a dutiful submission.  And
such submission, together with the active principle of
obedience, make up the temper and character in us,
which answers to his sovereignty; and which absolutely
belongs to the condition of our being, as dependent creatures. Nor can it be said, that this is only breaking the
mind to a submission to mere power; for mere power
may be accidental, and precarious, and usurped: but it
is forming within ourselves the temper of resignation
to his rightful authority, who is, by nature, supreme
over all.
Upon the whole: such a character, and such qualifications, are necessary for a mature state of life in the
present world, as nature alone does in no wise bestow;
but has put it upon us, in great part, to acquire, in our
progress from one stage of life to another, from childhood to mature age; put it upon us to acquire them, by
giving us capacities of doing it, and by placing us, in the
beginning of life, in a condition fit for it. And this is a
gfneral analogy to our condition in the present world, as
in a state of moral discipline for another.  It is in vain
then to object against the credibility of the present life's
being intended for this purpose, that all the trouble and
the danger unavoidably accompanying such discipline,
might have been saved us, by our being made at once
the creatures and the characters, which we were to he.
For we experience, that what we were to be, was to be the
effect of what we would do: and that the general conduct
of nature is, not to save us trouble or danger, but to
make us capable of going through themfl, a0nd to P)ut it
upon us to do so.  Acquiremimts of our own, experience




IlAt. V..,MIORAL DISCIPLINE              1. 33
and habits, are the natural supply to our deficiencies, and
security against our dangers: since it is as plainly natural to set ourselves to al:ouire the qualifications, as the
external things, which we stand in need of. In particular, it is as plainly a general law of nature, that we should
with regard to our temporal interest, form and cultivate
practical principles within us, by attention, use, and discipline, as any thing whatever is a natural law; chiefly
in the beginning of life, but also throughout the whole
course of it.  And the alternative is left to our choice:
either to improve ourselves, and better our condition; or,
in deTault of such improvement, to remain deficient and
wretched.  It is therefore perfectly credible, from  the
analogy of nature, that the same may be our case, with
respect to the happiness of a future state, and the qualifications necessary for it.
There is a third thing, which may seem implied in the
present world's being a state of probation; that it is a
theatre of action, for the manifestation of persons' characters, with respect to a fiuture one: not, to be sure, to
an all-knowing Being, but to his creation or part of it.
This may, perhaps, be only a consequence of our being
in a state of probation in the other senses. However, it
is not impossible, that men's showing and making manifest, what is in their heart, what their real character is,
may have respect to a future life, in ways and manners
which we are not acquainted with: particularly it may
be a means, for the Author of Nature does not appear to
do any thing without means, of their being disposed of
suitably to their characters; and of its being known to
the creation, by way of example, that they are thus disposed of.  But not to enter upon any conjectural account
of this; one may just mention, that the manifestation of
persons' characters contributes very much, in various
ways, to the carrying on a great part of that general
course of nature, respecting mankind, which comes under
our observation at present.  I shall only add, that probation, in both these senses, as well as in that treated of
in the foregoing chapter, is implied in moral government;
since by persons' behaviour under it, their characters caniot I ut be manifested, and if they behave well, impr oved.




134        OF THE OFINION OF NECESSITY,       Ip.e I.,
CHAP. VI.
OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, CONSIDERED AS
INFLUENCING PRACTICE.
THROUGHOUT the foregoing Treatise it appears, that the
condition of mankind, considered as inhabitants of this
world only, and under the government of God which we
experience, is greatly analogous to our condition, as designed for another world, or under that farther government, which Religion teaches us. If therefore any assert,
as a Fatalist must, that the opinion of universal Necessity
is reconcilable with the former; there immediately arises
a question in the way of analogy, whether he must not
also own it to be reconcilable with the latter, i. e. with
the system of Religion itself, and the proof of it. The
reader then will observe, that the question now before us
is not absolute. Whether the opinion of Fate be reconcilable with Religion; but hypothetical, whether, upon
supposition of its being reconcilable with the constitution of Nature, it be not reconcilable with Religion also:
or, what pretence a Fatalist, not other' persons, but a
Fatalist, has to conclude from his opinion, that there can
be no such thing as Religion. And as the puzzle and
obscurity, which must unavoidably arise from arguing
upon so absurd a supposition as that of universal Necessity, will, I fear, easily be seen; it will, I hope, as easily
be excused.
But since it has been all along taken for granted, as a
thing proved, that there is an intelligent Author of Nature, or natural Governor of the world; and since an
objection may be made against the proof of this, from
the opinion of universal Necessity, as it may be supposed,
that such Necessity will itself account for the origin and
preservation of all things: it is requisite, that this objection be distinctly answered; or that it be shown, that a
Fatality supposed consistent with what we certainly experience, does not destroy the proof of an intelligent
Author and Governor of Nature; before we proceed to




eWAP. VI.]   AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE.          135
consider, whether it destroys the proof of a moral
Governor of it, or of our being in a state of Religion.
Now, when it is said by a Fatalist, that the whole constitution of Nature, and the actions of men, that every
thing, and every mode and circumstance of every thing,
is necessary, and could not possibly have been otherwise;
it is to be observed, that this Necessity does not exclude
d.liberation, choice, preference, and acting from certain
principles, and to certain ends: because all this is matter of undoubted experience, acknowledged by all, and
what every man may, every moment, be conscious of.
And from hence it follows, that Necessity, alone and of
itself, is in no sort an account of the constitution of Nature, and how things came to be and to continue as they
are; but only an account of this circumstance relating to
their origin and continuance, that they could not have
been otherwise, than they are and have been. The assertion, that every thing is by Necessity of Nature, is
not an answer to the question; Whether the world carme
into being as it is, by an intelligent Agent forming it thus,
or not: but to quite another question; Whether it came
into being as it is, in that way and manner which we
call necessarily, or in that way and manner which we call
freely.  For suppose farther, that one who was a Fatalist, and one who kept to his natural sense of things,
and believed himself a Free Agent, were disputing together, and vindicating their respective opinions; and they
should happen to instance in a house: they would agree
that it was built by an architect. Their difference concerning Necessity and Freedom would occasion no diff'crence of judgment concerning this; but only concerning
another matter; whether the architect built it necessarily or freely. Suppose then they should proceed to inquire concerning the constitution of nature: in a lax
way of speaking, one of them might say, it was by Necessity; and the other, by Freedom: but if they had any
meaning to their words, as the latter must mean a Free
Agent, so thle former must at length be reduced to mean
an Agent, whether he would say one or more, acting by
Necessity: for abstract notions can do nothing.  Indeed
we ascribe to God a necessary existence, uncaused by




136         OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY,      [PAT I.
any agent.  For we find within ourselves the idea of
infinity, i. e. immensity and eternity, impossible, even in
irnagination, to be removed out of being.  We seem to
discern intuitively, that there must, and cannot but be,
somewhat, external to ourselves, answering this idea, or
the archetype of it.  And from hence (for this abstract,
as much as any other, implies a concrete) we conclude,
that there is, and cannot but be, an infinite and immense
eternal Being existing, prior to all design contributing to
his existence, and exclusive of it. And from the scantiness of language, a manner of speaking has been introduced; that Necessity is the foundation, the reason, the
account of the existence of God.  But it is not alleged,
nor can it be at all intended, that every thing exists as it
does, by this kind of Necessity; a Necessity antecedent
in nature to design: it cannot, I say, be meant that every
thing exists as it does, by this kind of Necessity, upon
several accounts; and particularly because it is admitted,
that design, in the actions of men, contributes to many
alterations in nature.  For if any deny this, I shall not
pretend to reason with them.
From these things it follows; First, That when a Fatalist asserts, that every thing is by Necessity, he must
mean, by an Agent acting necessarily; he must, I say, mean
this, for I am very sensible he would not choose to mean
it: and Secondly, That the Necessity, by which such an
Agent is supposed to act, does not exclude intelligence
and design.  So that, were the system of Fatality admitted, it would just as much account for the formation of
the world, as for the structure of a house, and no more.
Necessity as much requires and supposes a Necessary
Agent, as Freedom requires and supposes a Free Agent,
to be the former of the world. And the appearances of
design and of final causes in the constitution of nature as
really prove this acting Agent to be an intelligent designer,
or to act from choice; upon the scheme of Necessity,
supposed possible, as upon that of Freedom.
It appearing thus, that the notion of Necessity does
not destroy the proof, that there is an intelligent Author
of Nature and natural Governor of the world; the present question, which the analogy before mentioned sug



CHAP. VI.]   AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE.         137
gests,' andc. which, I think, it will answer, is this: Whether
tile opinion of Nl-ecessity, supposed consistent with possibility, with the constitution of the world, and the natural
government which we experience exercised over it, destroys all reasonable ground of belief, that we are in a
state of Religion: or whether that opinion be reconciltble with Religion; with the system,.and the proof of it.
Suppose then a Fatalist to educate any one, from his
youth up, in his own principles; that the child should
reason upon them, and conclude, that since he cannot
possibly behave otherwise than he does, he is not a subiect of blame or commendation, nor can deserve to be
rewarded or punished: imagine him to eradicate the very
perceptions of blame and commendation out of his mind,
by means of this system; to form his temper, and character, and behaviour to it; and from it to judge of the
treatment he was to expect, say, from reasonable men,
upon his coming abroad into the world: as the Fatalist
iudges from this system, what he is to expect from the
Author of Nature, and with regard to a future state. I
cannot forbear stopping here to ask, whether any one of
common sense would think fit, that a child should be put
upon these speculations, and be left to apply them to
practice. And a man has little pretence to reason, who
is not sensible, that we are all children in speculations of
this kinid. However, the child would doubtless be highly
delighted to find himself freed from the restraints of
fear and shame, with which his play-fellows were fettered and embarrassed; and highly conceited in his superior knowledge, so far beyond his years. But conceit
and vanity would be the least bad part of the influence,
which these principles must have, when thus reasoned
and acted upon, during the course of his education. He
must either be allowed to go on and be the plague of all
about him, and himself too, even to his own destruction:
or else correction must be continually made use of, to
supply the want of those natural perceptions of blame
and commendation, which we have supposed to be removed; and to give him a practical impression, of what
he had reasoned himself out of the belief of, that he was
*P. 184.




738        OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITy,       [PARTr.
in fact an accountable child, and to be punished for
doing what he was forbid.  It is therefore in reality impossible, but that the correction which he must meet
with, in the course of his education, must convince him,
that if the scheme he was instructed in were not false;
vet that he reasoned inconclusively upon it, and somehow or other misapplied it to practice and common life;
as what the Fatalist experiences of the conduct of Providence at present, ought in all reason to convince him,
that this scheme is misapplied, when applied to the subject of Religion.* But supposing the child's temper
could remain still formed to the system, and his expectation of the treatment he was to have in the world be
regulated by it; so as to expect that no reasonable man
would blame or punish him, for any thing which he
should do, because he could not help doing it: upon this
supposition it is manifest he would, upon his coming
abroad into the world, be insupportable to society, and
the treatment which he would receive from it would
render it so to him; and he could not fail of doing somewhat, very soon, for which he would be delivered over
into the hands of civil justice.  And thus, in the end, he
would be convinced of the obligations he was under te
his wise instructor. Or suppose this scheme of Fatality
in any other way, applied to practice, such practical application of it will be found equally absurd; equally fallacious in a practical sense: for instance, that if a man be
destined to live such a time, he shall live to it, though
he take no care of his own preservation; or if he be
destined to die before that time, no care can prevent it:
therefore all care about preserving one's life is to be
neglected: which is the fallacy instanced in by the
ancients. But now, on the contrary, none of these practical absurdities can be drawn from reasoning, upon the
supposition that we are free; but all such reasoning with
regard to the common affairs of life is justified by experience. And therefore, though it were admitted that this
opinion of Necessity were speculatively true; yet, with
regard to Dractice, it is as if it were false, so far as our
experience reaches: thfat is, to the wihole of our present
* f,.,,tM.




vIu. VI.]   AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE.           139
life. For, the constitution of the present world, and the
condition in which we are actually placed, is, as if we
were free. And it may perhaps justly be concluded, that
since the whole process of action, through every step of
it, suspense, deliberation, inclining one way, determining,
and at last doing as we determine, is as if we were free,
therefore we are so. But the thing here insisted upon is,
that under the present natural government of the world,
we find we are treated and dealt with, as if we were free,
prior to all consideration whether we are or not. Were
this opinion therefore of Necessity admitted to be ever
so true; yet such is in fact our condition and the natural
course of things, that whenever we apply it to life and
practice, this application of it always misleads us, and
cannot but mislead us, in a most dreadful manner, with
regard to our present interest. And how can people
think themselves so very secure then, that the same
application of thile same opinion may not mislead them
also, in some analogous manner, with respect to a future,
a more general, and more important interest? For,
Religion being a practical subject; and the analogy of
nature showing us, that we have not faculties to apply
this opinion, were it a true one, to practical subjects;
whenever we do apply it to the subject of Religion, and
thence conclude, that we are free from its obligations, it
is plain this conclusion cannot be depended upon. There
will still remain just reason to think, whatever appearances are, that we deceive ourselves; in somewhat of a
like manner, as when people fancy they can draw contradictory conclusions from the idea of infinity.
From these things together, the attentive reader will
see it follows, that if upon supposition of Freedom the
evidence of Religion be conclusive, it remains so, upen
supposition of Necessity, because the notion of Necessity
is not applicable to practical subjects: i. e. with respect
to them, is as if it were not true.  Nor does this contain
any reflection upon reason, but only upon what is unreasonable. For to pretend to act upon reason, in opposition to practical principles, which the Author of our nature gave us to act upon; and to pretend to apply our
reason to subjects, with regard to which, our own short




140        OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY,           [PARTI.
views, and even our experience, will show us, it cannot be
depended upon; and such, at best, the subject of Necessity must be; this is vanity, conceit, and unreasonableness.
But this is not all. For we find within ourselves a
will, and are conscious of a cllaracter.  Now if this, in
us, be reconcilable with Fate, it is reconcilable with it,
in the Author of Nature.  And besides, natural government and final causes imply a character and a will in the
Governor and Designer;' a will concerning the creatures
whom he governs.  The Author of Nature then being
certainly of some character or other, notwithstanding
Necessity; it is evident this Necessity is as reconcilable
with the particular character of benevolence, veracity,
and justice, in him, which attributes are the foundation of
Religion, as with any other character: since we find this
Necessity no more hinders men from  being benevolcnt,
than cruel; true, than faithless; just, than unjust; or, if
the Fatalist pleases, what we call unjust.  For it is said
indeed, that what, upon supposition of Freedom, would
be just punishment; upon supposition of Necessity, becomes manifestly unjust: because it is punishment inflicted for doing that which persons could not avoid
doing. As if the Necessity, which is supposed to destroy the injustice of murder, for instance, would not
also destroy the injustice of punishing it.  However, as
little to the purpose as this objection is in itself, it is very
much to the purpose to observe from it, how the notions
of justice and injustice remain, even whilst we endeavour
to suppose them  removed; how they force themselves
upon the mind, even whilst we are making suppositions
destructive of them: for there is not, perhaps, a man in
the world, but would be ready to make this objection at
first thought.
But though it is most evident, that universal Necessity, if it be reconcilable with any thing, is reconcilable
with that character in the Author of Nature, which is the
foundation of Religion; " Yet, does it not plainly destroy
the proof, that he is of that character, and consequently
* By wili and character is meant that which, in speaking of men, we should ex.
preq-s, fot only by these wordts, bt)  also by the words teswper, taste, dispositions, practical principles: that wholef/rame of mind,from whence we act in one manner rathef
than another.




ut., v1.]     AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE.           141
the proof of Religion P" By no means. For we find, thai
happiness and misery are not our fate, in any such sense
as not to be the consequences of our behaviour; but that
they are the consequences of it.* We find God exercises the same'kind of government over us, with that
which a father exercises over his children, and a civil
magistrate over his subjects.  Now, whatever becomes
of abstract questions concerning Liberty and Necessity,
it evidently appears to us, that veracity and justice must
he the natural rule and measure of exercising this authority or government, to a Being who can have no competitions, or interfering of interests, with his creatures and
his subjects.
But as the doctrine of Liberty, though we experience
its truth, may be perplexed with difficulties, which run
up into the most abstruse of all speculations; and as the
opinion of Necessity seems to be the very basis upon
which infidelity grounds itself; it may be of some use
to offer a more particular proof of the obligations of
Religion, which may distinctly be shown not to be destroyed by this opinion.
The proof from final causes of an intelligent Author
of Nature is not affected by the opinion of Necessity;
supposing Necessity a thing possible in itself, and reconcilable with the constitution of things.t And it is a matter of fact, independent on this or any other speculation,
that he governs the world by the method of rewards and
punishments: and also that he hath given us a moral
faculty, by which we distinguish between actions, and
approve some as virtuous and of good desert, and disapprove others as vicious and of ill desert.~  Now this
moral discernment implies, in the notion of it, a rule of
action, and a rule of a very peculiar kind: for it carries
in it authority and a right of direction; authority in such
a sense, as that we cannot depart from  it without being
self-condemned.ll  And that the dictates of this moral
faculty, which are by nature a rule to us, are moreover
the laws of God, laws in a sense including sanctions;
may be thls proved. Consciousness of a rule or guide,of
* Clap. Ii.  t P. 134, &c.  I Chap. ii.
6 Diert. II.       I Serrn. 2. at the BoUs




14'2       OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY,      [PAT IX
action, in creatures who are capable of considering it as
given them by their Maker, not only raises immediately
a sense of duty, but also a sense of security in following
it, and of danger in deviating from it. A direction of
the Author of Nature, given to creatures capable of looking upon it as such, is plainly a command fromn him: anti
a command from him necessarily includes in it, at least,
an implicit promise in case of obedience, or threatening
in case of disobedience. But then the sense or perception of good and ill desert,* which is contained in the
moral discernment, renders the sanction explicit, and
makes it appear, as one may say, expressed. For since
his method of government is to reward and punish
actions, his having annexed to some actions an inseparable sense of good desert, and to others of ill, this surely
amounts to declaring, upon whom his, punishments shall
be inflicted, and his rewards be bestowed. For he must
have given us this discernment and sense of things, as
a presentiment of what is to be hereafter: that is, by
way of information beforehand, what we are finally to
expect in this world. There is then most evident ground
to think, that the government of God, upon the whole,
will be found to correspond to the nature which he has
given us: and that, in the upshot and issue of things,
happiness and misery shall, in fact and event, be made
to follow virtue and vice respectively; as he has already,
in so pe6uliar a manner, associated the ideas of them in
our minds. And from hence might easily be deduced
the obligations of religious worship, were it only to be
considered as a means of preserving upon our minds a
sense of this moral government of God, and securing our
obedience to it: which yet is an extremely imperfect
view of that most important duty.
Now, I say, no objection from Necessity can lie against
this general proof of Religion. None against the proposition reasoned upon, that we have such a moral faculty
and discernment; because this is a mere matter of fact:
a thing of experience, that human kind is thus oonstituted: none against the conclusion; because it is imme.
diate and wholly from this fact. For the conclusion, that
* Dissert. II.




C.}P. V1.]          AS INFLUENCING  PRACTICE.                            143
God will finally reward the righteous and punish the
wicked, is not here drawn, from its appearing to us fit*
tliat he should; but from its appearihg, that he has told
us, he  wrill.   And this  he  hath  certainly told us, in  the
promise and threatening, which it hath been observed
the notion of a command implies, and the sense of good
and ill desert which he has given us, more distinctly expresses. And this reasoning from fact is confirmed, and
in some degree even verified, by other facts; by the natural tendencies of virtue and of vice;t and by this, that
God, in the natural course of his providence, punishes
vicious actions as mischievous to society; and also vicious actions as such in the strictest sense.'+ So that the
general proof of Religion is unanswerably real, even upon
the wild supposition which we are arguing upon.
It must likewise be observed further, that natural Religion hath, besides this, an external evidence; which the
doctrine of Necessity, if it could be true, would not affect.
For suppose a person, by the observations and reasoning
above, or by any other, convinced of the truth of Religion;
that there is a God, who made the world, who is the moral
Governor and Judge of mankind, and will upon the whole
deal with every one according to his works: I say, suppose a person convinced of this by reason; but to know
nothing  at all of antiquity, or the present state of mankind: it would be natural for such a one to be inquisitive,
what was the history of this system of doctrine; at what
time, and in what manner, it came first into the world;
and whether it were believed by any considerable part
of it. And were he upon inquiry to find, that a parti* However, I am far fioro  intending to deny, that the will of God is determined,
by whiat is fit, by the right and reason of the case; though one. chooses to decline
matters of such abstract speculation, and to speak with caution when olle does spealk
of them. But if it be intelligible to say, that it isfit and reasonable for every one to
co:,lsUlt his own happiness, then fitness of action, or the right and reason of the case, is
an intelligible manner of speaking.  And it seems as inconceivable, to suppose God
to approve one course of action, or one end, preferably to another, wlhiclh yet his
ncting at all from design implies that he does, without supposing somewliat prior in
that end, to be the ground of thie preftrence; as to suppose himn to discern an albttract proposition to Lbe true, without supposing somewhat prior in it, to be the ground
of the discernment.  It dotll not therefore appear, that moral right is ally more rehltive te perception, than abstract truth is; or that it is any more improper, to speak
of the fitness and rightness of actions and ends, as founled in the nature of things,
than to speak of abstract truth, as thus founded.
t P. 95.                        t P. 88, &C.




144         OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY,         [PART? 
cular person, in a late age, first of all proposed it, as a
deduction of reasou, and that mankind were before
wholly ignorant of it; then, though its evidence from
reason would remain, there would be no additional probability of its truth, from  the account of its discovery.
But instead of this being the fact of the case, on the
contrary, he would find, what could not but afford him
a very strong confirmation  of its truth: First, That
somewhat of this system, with more or fewer additions
and alterations, hath been professed in all ages and
countries, of which we have any certain information
relating to this matter.  Secondly, That it is certain
historical fact, so far as we can trace things up, that this
whole system of belief, that there is one God, the Creator
and moral Governor of the world, and that mankind is
in a state of Religion, was received in the first ages.
And Thzirdly, That as there is no hint or intimation in
history, that this system was first reasoned out; so there
is express historical or traditional evidence, as ancient.
as history, that it was taught first by revelation.  Now,
these things must be allowed to be of great weight. The
first of them, general consent, shows this system to be
conformable to the common sense of mankind.  The
second, namely, that Religion was believed in the first
ages of the world, especially as it does not appear that
there were then any superstitious or false additions to it,
cannot but be a further confirmation of its truth. For
it is a proof of this alternative: either that it calre into
the world by revelation; or that it is natural, obviuzis,
and forces itself upon the mind.  The K:rnuel of thestis the conclusion of learned men.  A^;  x bhcvke, will
consider, bow unapt for speculation rd-ct- atla t1LcukitVhat.ed minds are, will, perhaps from hel ce 1i"lo,,e, be Ztrongl
inclined to believe it the truth.  An-J i.s it s shown in
the Second Part* of this Treatise, that thlere is nothing
of such peculiar presumption against a revelation in tile
beginning of the world, as there is supposed to be against
subsequent ones: a sceptic could not, I think, give any
account, which would appear more probable even to
himself, of the early pretences to revelation; than by
*Chap. ii.




CsHr. VI.]   AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE.            J 45
supposing some real original one, from whence thery
were copied. And the third thing above mentioned,
that there is express historical or traditional evidence as
ancient as history, of the system of Religion being taught
mankind by revelation; this must be admitted as some
degree of real proof, that it was so taught. For why
should not the most ancient tradition be admitted as
some additional proof of a fact, against which there is no
presumption P And this proof is mentioned here, because
it has its weight to show, that Religion came into the
world by revelation, prior to all consideration of the
proper authority of any book supposed to contain it;
and even prior to all consideration, whether the revelation itself be uncorruptly handed down, and related, or
mixed and darkened with fables.  Thus the historical
account, which we have of the origin of Religion, taking
in all circumstances, is a real confirmation of its truth,
no way affected by the opinion of Necessity.  And the
external evidence, even of natural Religion, is by no
means inconsiderable.
But it is carefully to be observed, and ought to be
recollected after all proofs of virtue and religion, which
are only general; that as speculative reason may be
neglected, prejudiced, and deceived, so also may our
moral understanding be impaired and perverted, and the
dictates of it not impartially attended to. This indeed
proves nothing against the reality of our speculative or
practical faculties of perception; against their being
intended by nature, to inform us in the theory of things,
and instruct us how we are to behave, and what we are
to expect in consequence of our behaviour. Yet our
liableness, in the degree we are liable, to prejudice and
perversion, is a most serious admonition to us to be
i1pon our guard, with respect to what is of such consequence, as our determinations concerning virtue and
religion; and particularly not to take  custom, and
fashion, and slight notions of honour, or imaginations of
present ease, use, and convenience to mankind, for the
only moral rule.*
The foregoing observations, drawn from the nature of
* Dissert. II.
K




146        OF THE OPINION OF NECESSITY,      rPAT I.
the thing, and the history of Religion, amount, when
taken together, to a real practical proof of it, not to be
confuted: such a proof as, considering the infinite importance of the thing, I apprehend, would be admitted
fully sufficient, in reason, to influence the actions of men,
who act upon thought and reflection; if it were admitted
that there is no proof of the contrary. But it may be
said; "There are many probabilities, which cannot indeed
be confuted, i. e. shown to be no probabilities, and yet
may be overbalanced by greater probabilities on the
other side; much more by demonstration. And there is
no occasion to object against particular arguments alleged
for an opinion, when the opinion itself maybe clearly
shown to be false, without meddling with such arguments at all, but leaving them just as they are.* Now the
method of government by rewards and punishments, and
especially rewarding and punishing good and ill desert
as such respectively, must go upon supposition, that we
are Free and not Necessary Agents. And it is incredible, that the Author of Nature should govern us upon a
supposition as true, which he knows to be false; and
therefore-absurd to think, he will reward or punish us
for our actions hereafter; especially that he will do it
under the notion, that they are of good or ill desert."
Here then the matter is brought to a point. And the
answer to all this is full, and not to be evaded; that
the whole constitution and course of things, the whole
analogy of providence, shows beyond possibility of doubt,
that the conclusion from this reasoning is false; wherever the fallacy lies. The doctrine of freedom indeed
clearly shows where: in supposing ourselves Necessary, when in truth we are Free Agents. But, upon
the supposition of Necessity, the fallacy lies in taking for granted, that it is incredible Necessary Agents
should be rewarded and punished. But that, somehow
or other, the conclusion now mentioned is false, is most
certain.  For it is fact, that God does govern even brute
creatures by the method of rewards and punishments,
in the natural course of things. And men are rewarded
and punished for their actions, punished For actions
* P. 49, 52.




e". VT.]     AS INFLUENCING PRACTICE.            147
mischievous to society as being so, punished for vicious
actions as such; by the natural instrumentality of each
other, under the present conduct of Providence. Nay
even the affection of gratitude, and the passion of resentment, and the rewards and punishments following from
them, which in general are to be considered as natural,
i. e. from the Author of Nature; these rewards and
punishments, being naturally' annexed to actions considered as implying good intention and good desert, ill
intention and ill desert; these natural rewards and
punishments, I say, are as much a contradiction to the
conclusion above, and show its falsehood, as a more exac,
and complete rewarding and punishing of good and ill
desert as such. So that if it be incredible, that N ecesi sary Agents should be thus rewarded and punished;
then, men are not necessary but free; since it is matter
of fact, that they are thus rewarded and punished. But
if, on the contrary, which is the supposition we have
been arguing upon, it be insisted, that men are Necessary Agents; then, there is nothing incredible in the
further supposition of Necessary Agents being thus
rewarded and punished: since we ourselves are thus
dealt with.
From the whole therefore it must follow, that a Necessity supposed possible, and reconcilable with the constitution of things, does in no sort prove that the Author ot
Nature will not, nor destroy the proof that he will, finally and upon the whole, in his eternal government,
render his creatures happy or miserable, by some means
or other, as they behave well or ill.  Or, to express this
conclusion in words conformable to the title of the
Chapter, the analogy of nature shows us, that the opinion
of Necessity, considered as practical, is false. And if
Necessity, upon the supposition above mentioned, doth
not destroy the proof of natural Religion, it evidently
makes no alteration in the proof of revealed.
From these things likewise we may learn, in what
sense to understand that general assertion, that the
opinion of Necessity is essentially destructive of all religion. First, in a practical sense; that by this notion,
* Serm. 8th, at the Rouls.
K Y,




148       THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD,            [PAr L
atheistical men pretend to satisfy and encourage them.
selves in vice, and justify to others their disregard to all
religion. And secondly, in the strictest sense; that it
is a contradiction to the whole constitution of nature,
ind to what we may every moment experience in ourselves, and so overturns every thing. But by no means
is this assertion to be understood, as if Necessity, supposing it could possibly be reconciled with the constitution of things and with what we experience, were not
also reconcilable with Religion: for upon this supposition, it demonstrably is so.
CHAP. VII.
OF THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD, CONSIDERED AS A SCHEME
OR CONSTITUTION, IMPERFECTLY COMPREHENDED.
THOUGH it be, as it cannot but be, acknowledged, that
the analogy of nature gives a strong credibility to the
general doctrine of Religion, and to the several particular things contained in it, considered as so many matters
of fa.ct; and likewise that it shows this credibility not to
be destroyed by any notions of Necessity: yet still, objections may be insisted upon, against the wisdom,
equity, and goodness of the divine government implied
in the notion of. Religion, and against the method by
which this government is conducted; to which objections
analogy can be no direct answer. For the credibility,
or the certain truth, of a matter of fact, does not immediately prove any thing concerning the wisdom or goodness of it: and analogy can do no more, immediately or
directly, than show such and such things to be true or
credible, considered only as matters of fact.  But still,
if, upon supposition of a moral constitution of nature
and a moral government over it, analogy suggests and
makes it credible, that this government must be a
scheme, system, or constitution of government, as distinguislhed from a number of single unconnected acts of
distributive justice and goodness; and likewise, that it
must be a scheme, so imperfectly comprehended, and of




>APt. VII.]  A SCHEME INCOMPREHENSIBLE.        149
such a sort in other respects, as to afford a direct general answer to all objections against the justice and goodness of it: then analogy is, remotely, of great service in
answering those objections; both by suggesting the answer, and showing it to be a credible one.
Now this, upon inquiry, will be found to be the case.
For, First, Upon supposition that God exercises a moral government over the world, the analogy of his natural
government suggests and makes it credible, that his moral
government must be a scheme, quite beyond our comprehension: and this affords a general answer to all objections against the justice and goodness of it. And, Secondly, A more distinct observation of some particular
things contained in God's scheme of natural government, the like things being supposed, by analogy, to be
contained in,his moral government, will further show,
how little weight is to be laid upon these objections.
I. Upon supposition that God exercises a moral government over the world, the analogy of his natural government suggests and makes it credible, that his moral
government must be a scheme, quite beyond our comprehension; and this affords a general answer to all objections against the justice and goodness of it. It is
most obvious, analogy renders it highly credible, that,
upon supposition of a moral government, it must be a
scheme: for the world, and the whole natural government of it, appears to be so: to be a scheme, system, or
constitution, whose parts correspond to each other, and
to a whole; as really as any work of art, or as any particular model of a civil constitution and government.
In this great scheme of the natural world, individuals
have various peculiar relations to other individuals of
their own species. And whole species are, we find,
variously related to other species, upon this earth. Nor
do we know, how much further these kinds of relations
may extend. And, as there is not any action or natural
event, which we are acquainted with, so single and unconnected, as not to have a respect to some other actions and events; so possibly each of them, when it has
not an immediate, may yet have a remote, natural relation to other actions and events, much beyond the




150        THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD,            [PAr I.
compass of this present world. There seems indeed
nothing, from whence we can so much as make a conjecture, whether all creatures, actions, and events, throughout the whole of nature, have relations to each other.
But, as it is obvious, that all events have future unknown consequences; so if we trace any, as far as we
can go, into what is connected with it, we shall find,
that if such event were not connected with somewhat
further in nature unknown to us, somewhat both past
anc present, such event could not possibly have been at
all. Nor can we give the whole account of any one
thing whatever; of all its causes, ends, and necessary adjuncts; those adjuncts, I mean, without which it could
not have been.  By this most astonishing connexion,
these reciprocal correspondences and mutual relations,
every thing which we see in the course of nature is actually brought about. And things seemingly the most
insignificant imaginable are perpetually observed to be
necessary conditions to other things of the greatest importance; so that any one thing whatever may, for ought
we know to the contrary, be a necessary condition to
any other. The natural world then, and natural government of it, being such an incomprehensible scheme; so
incomprehensible, that a, man must, really in the literal sense, know nothing at all, who is. not sensible of
his ignorance in it; this immediately suggests, and
strongly shows the credibility, that the moral world and
government of it may be so too. Indeed the natural
and moral constitution and government of the world are
so connected, as to make up together but one scheme:
and it is highly probable, that the first is formed and
carried on merely in subserviency to the latter; as the
vegetable world is for the animal, and organized bodies
for minds. But the thing intended here is, without inquiring how far the administration of the natural world
is subordinate to that of the moral, only to observe the
credibility, that one should be analogous or similar to
the other: that therefore every act of divine justice and
goodness may be supposed to look much beyond itself,
and its immediate object; may have some reference to
other parts of God's moral administration, and to a ge



tcar YII.]    A SCHEME INCOMPREHENSIBLE.       151
neral moral plan; and that every circumstance of this his
moral government may be adjusted beforehand with a
view to the whole of it. Thus for example: the determined length of time, and the degrees and ways, in
which virtue is to remain in a state of warfare and discipline, and in which wickedness is permitted to have its
progress; the times appointed for the execution of justice; the appointed instruments of it; the kinds. of rewards and punishments, and the manners of their distribution; all particular instances of divine justice and
goodness, and every circumstance of them, may have
such respects to each other, as to make up altogether a
whole, connected and related in all its parts; a scheme
or system, which is as properly one as the'natural world
is, and of the like kind. And supposing this to be the
case; it is most evident, that we are not competent
judges of this scheme, from the small parts of it which
come within our view in the present life: and therefore
no objections against any of these parts can be insisted
upon by reasonable men.
This our ignorance, and the consequence here drawn
from it, are universally acknowledged upon other occasions; and though scarce denied, yet are universally forgot, when persons come to argue against Religion. And
it is not perhaps easy, even for the most reasonable men,
always to bear in mind the degree of our ignorance, and
make due allowances for it.  Upon these accounts, it
may not be useless to go on a little further, in order to
show more distinctly, how just an answer our ignorance
is, to objections against the scheme of Providence.
Suppose then a person boldly to assert, that the things
complained of, the origin and continuance of evil, might
easi!y have been prevented by repeated interpositions;'
interpositions so guarded and circumstanced, as would
preclude all mischief arising from them; or, if this were
impracticable, that a schiem.e of government is itself an
imperfection; since more good might have been produced, without any scheme, system, or constitution at all,
by continued single unrelated acts of distributive justice
and goodness; because these would have occasioned no
* P. 154, 155.




152          THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD,          [PART I
irregularities.  And'farther than this, it is presumed, the
objections will not be carried.  Yet the answer is obvious: that were these assertions true, still the observations
above, concerning our ignorance in the scheme of divine
government and the consequence drawn from it, would
hold, in great measure; enough to vindicate Religion,
against all objections from the disorders of the present
state. Were these assertions true, yet the government
of the world might be just and good notwithstanding; for,
at the most, they would infer nothing more than that it
might have been better.  But indeed they are mere
arbitrary assertions; no man being sufficiently acquainted with the possibilities of things, to bring any proof of
them to the lowest degree of probability. For however
possible what is asserted may seem; yet many instances
may be alleged, in things much less out of our reach, of.
suppositions absolutely impossible, and reducible to the
most palpable self-coTtradictions, which, not every one
by any means would perceive to be such, nor perhaps
any one at first sight suspect.  From these things, it is
easy to see distinctly, how our ignorance, as it is the
common, is really a satisfactory answer to all objections
against the justice and goodness of Providence.  If a
man, contemplating any one providential dispensation,
which had no relation to any others, should object, that
he discerned in it a disregard to justice, or a deficiency
of goodness; nothing would be less an answer to such
objection, than our ignorance in other parts of providence, or in the Possibilities of things, no way related
to what he was contemplating. But when we know not
but the parts objected against may be relative to other
parts unknown to us; and when we are unacquainted
with what is, in the nature of the thing, practicable in
the case before us; then our ignorance is a satisfactory
answer; because, some unknown relation, or some unknown impossibility, may render what is objected against,
just and good; nay good in the highest practicable degree.
II. And how little weight is to be laid upon such objections, will further appear, by a more distinct observation of some particular things contained in the natural




CHAP. VII.]    A SCHEME INCOMPREHENSIBLE.    153
government of God, the like to which may be supposed,
from analogy, to be contained in his moral government.
First, As in the scheme of the natural world, no ends
appear to be accomplished without means: so we find
that means very undesirable, often conduce to bring
about ends in such a measure desirable, as greatly to
overbalance the disagreeableness of the means. And in
cases where such means are conducive to such ends, it
is not reason, but experience, which shows us, that they
are thus conducive. Experience also shows many means
to be conducive and necessary to accomplish ends, which
means, before experience, we should have thought, would
have had even a contrary tendency. Now from these
observations relating to the natural scheme of the world,
the moral being supposed analogous to it, arises a great
credibility, that the putting our misery in each other's
power to the degree it is, and making men liable to vice
to the degree we are; and in general, that those things
which are objected against the moral scheme of Providence, may be, upon the whole, friendly and assistant to
virtue, and productive of an overbalance of happiness:
i. e. the things objected against may be means, by which
an overbalance of good will, in the end, be found produced. And firom the same observations, it appears to
be no presumption against this, that we do not, if indeed
we do not, see those means to have any such tendency,
or that they seem to us to have a contrary one. Thus
those things, which we call irregularities, may not be so
at all: because they may be means'of accomplishing
wise and good ends more considerable. And it may be
added, as above, that they may also be the only mneans,
by which these wise and good ends are capable of being
accomplished.
After these observations it may be proper to add, in
order to obviate an absurd and wicked conclusion from
any of them, that though the constitution of our nature,
from whence we are capable of vice and misery, may, as
it undoubtedly does, contribute to the perfection and
happiness of the world; and though the actual permission
of evil may be beneficial to it: (i. e. it would have been
more mischievcu3s, not that a wicked person had himself




154          THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD,           [PAr l,
abstained from his own wickedness, but that any on?
had forcibly prevented it, than that it was permitted:)
yet notwithstanding, it might have been much better for
the world, if this very evil had never been done. Nay
it is most clearly conceivable, that the very commission
of wickedness may be beneficial to the world, and yet,
that it would be infinitely more beneficial for men to refrain from it. For thus, in the wise and good constitution of the natural world, there are disorders which bring
their own cures; diseases, which are themselves remedies. Many a man would have died, had it not been for
the gout or a fever; yet it would be thought madness to
assert, that sickness is a better or more perfect state'han
health; though the like, with regard to the moral world,
has been asserted.  But,
Secondly, The natural government of the world is carried on by general laws. For this there may be wise
and good reasons: the wisest and best, for ought we
know to tile contrary.  And that there are such reasons,
is suggested to our thoughts by the analogy of nature:
by our being made to experience good ends to be accomplished, as indeed all the good which we enjoy is
accomplished, by this means, that the laws, by which the
world is governed, are general. For we have scarce any
kind of enjoyments, but what we are, in some way or
other, instrumental in procuring ourselves, by acting in
a manner which we foresee likely to procure them: now
this foresight could not be at all, were not the government of the world carried on by general laws. And
though, for ought we know to the contrary, every single
case may be, at length, found to have been provided for
even by these: yet to prevent all irregularities, or remedy
them as they arise, by the wisest and best general laws,
na.y be impossible in the nature of things; as we see it
is absolutely impossible in civil government. But then
we are ready to think, that, the constitution of nature remaining as it is, and the course of things being permitted
to go on, in other respects, as it does, there might be
interpositions to prevent irregularities; though they could
not have been prevented, or remedied by any general
laws. And there would indeed. be reason to wish, which,




auP. VII.]   A SCHEME INCOMPREHENSIBLE.        155
by the way, is very different from a right to claim, that
all irregularities were prevented or remedied by present
interpositions, if these interpositions would have no other
effect than this. But it is plain they would have some
visible and immediate bad effects: for instance, they
would encourage idleness and negligence; and they
would render doubtful the natural rule of life, which is
ascertained by this very thing, that the course of the
world is carried on by general laws. And further, it is
certain they would have distant effects, and very great
ones too; by means of the wonderful connexions before
mentioned.* So that we cannot so much as guess, what
would be the whole result of the interpositions desired.
It may be said, any bad result might be prevented by
further interpositions, whenever there was occasion for
them: but this again is talking quite at random, and in
the dark.t  Upon the whole then, we see wise reasons,
why the course of the world should be carried on by
general laws, and good ends accomplished by this means:
and for ought we know, there may be the wisest reasons for it, and the best ends accomplished by it. We
have no ground to believe, that all irregularities could be
remedied as they arise, or could have been precluded, by
general laws. We find that interpositions would produce evil, and prevent good: and, for ought we know,
they would produce greater evil than they would prevent;
and prevent greater good than they would produce. And
if this be the case, then the not interposing is so far from
being a ground of complaint, that it is an instance of
goodness.  This is intelligible and  sufficient: and
going further, seems beyond the utmost reach of our
faculties.
But it may be said, that "after all, these supposed impossibilities and relations are what we are unacquainted
with; and we must judge of Religion, as of other things,
by what we do know, and look upon the rest as nothing:
or however, that the answers here given to what is objected against Religion, may equally be made use of to
invalidate the proof of it; since their stress lies so very
much upon our ignorance." But,
P. 150, &c.            t P. 152.




156          THE GOVERNMENT OF GfODj           [PART t.
Firsf, Though total ignorance in any matter loes ir
deed equally destroy, or rather preclude, all proof coIlcerning it, and objections against it; yet partial ignorance does not. For we may in any degree be convinced,
that a person is of such a character, and consequently
will pursue such ends; though we are greatly ignorant,
what is the proper way of acting, in order tfife most
effectually to obtain those ends: and in this case,
objections against his manner of acting, as seemingly
not conducive to obtain them, might be answered by
our ignorance; though the proof that such ends were
intended, might not at all be invalidated by it. Thus,
the proof of Religion is a proof of the moral character
of God, and consequently that his government is moral,
and that every one upon the whole shall receive according to his deserts; a proof that this is the designed end
of his government. But we are not competent judges,
what is the proper way of acting, in order the most
effectually to accomplish this end.* Therefore our ignorance is an answer to objections against the conduct
of Providence, in permitting irregularities, as seeming
contradictory to this end.  Now, since it is so obvious,
that our ignorance may be a satisfactory answer to objections against a thing, and yet not affect the proof of it;
till it can be shown, it is frivolous to assert, that our ignorance invalidates the proof of Religion, as it does the
objections against it.
Secondly, Suppose unknown impcssibilities, and unknown relations,. might justly be urged to invalidate the
proof of Religion, as well as to answer objections
against it: and that, in consequence of this, the proof of
it were doubtful. Yet still, let the assertion be despised,
or let it be ridiculed. it is undeniably true, that moral
obligations would remain certain, though it were not
certain what would, upon the whole, be the consequences of observing or violating them. For, these
obligations arise immediately and necessarily from the
judgment of our own mind, unless perverted, which we
cannot violate without being self-condemned. And they
would be certain too, from  considerations of interest.
*Pp, 53, 54.




Ar.P. VII.]    A SCHEME INCOMPREIfENJIBLE.       157
For though it were doubtful, what will be the fut: re consequences of virtue and vice; yet it is, however, credible.
that they may have those consequences, which Religion
teaches us they will: and this credibility is a certain 
obligation in point of prudence, to abstain from all wickedness, and to live in the conscientious practice of all
that is good. But,
Thirdly, The answers above given to the objections
against Religion cannot equally be made use of to invalidate the proof of it. For, upon suspicion that God exercises a moral government over the world, analogy does
most strongly lead us to conclude, that this moral government must be a scheme, or constitution, beyond our
comprehension. And a thousand particular analogies
show us, that parts of such a scheme, from their relation
to other parts, may conduce to accomplish ends, which
we should have thought they had no tendency at all to
accomplish: nay ends, which before experience, we
should have thought such parts were contradictory to,
and had a tendency to prevent. And therefore all these
analogies show, that the way of arguing made use of in
objecting against Religion is delusive: because they
show it is not at all incredible, that, could we comprehend the whole, we should find the permission of the
disorders objected against to be consistent with justice
and goodness; and even to be instances of them. Now
this is not applicable to the proof of Religion, as it is to
the objections against it;t and therefore cannot invalidate that proof, as it does these objections.
Lastly, From the observation now made, it is easy to
see, that the answers above given to the objections
against Providence, though, in a general way of speaking, they may be said to be taken from our ignorance;
vet are bv no means taken merely from that, but from
somewhat which analogy shows us concerning it. For
analogy shows us positively, that our ignorance in the
possibilities of things, and the various relations in nature,
renders us incompetent judges, and leads us to false conclusions, in cases similar to this, in which we pretend to
judge and to object.  So that the things above insisted
P*,. 49, and Part 1I. Chau  vi.  - Serm. at the Ret/s p. 312. 2d. ed.




158                CONCLUSION.                pA, I,
upon are not mere suppositions of unknown impossibilities and relations: but they are suggested to our
thoughts, and even forced upon the observation of serious men, and rendered credible too, by the analogy of
nature.  And' therefore to take these things into the
account, is to judge by experience and what we do
know: and it is notjudging so, to take no notice of them.
CONCLUSION.
THE observations of the last Chapter lead us to consider
this little scene of human life, in which we are so busily
engaged, as having a reference, of some sort or other, to
a much larger plan of things. Whether we are, any
way, related to the more distant parts of the boundless
universe, into which we are brought, is altogether uncertain. But it is evident, that the course of things, which
comes within our view, is connected with somewhat,
past, present, and future, beyond it.* So that we are
placed, as one may speak, in the middle of a scheme,
not a fixed but a progressive one, every way, incomprehensible: incomprehensible, in a manner equally, with
respect to what has been,.what now is, and what shall
be hereafter. And this scheme cannot but contain in it
somewhat as wonderful, and as much beyond our thought
and conception,t as any thing in that of Religion. For,
will any man in his senses say, that it is less difficult to
conceive, how the world came to be and to continue as
it is; without, than with, an intelligent Author and Governor of it P or, admitting an intelligent Governor of it,
that there is some other rule of government more natural, and of easier conception, than that which we call
moral   Indeed, without an intelligent Author and
Governor of Nature, no account at all can be given, how
this universe, or the part of it particularly in which we
are concerned, came to be, and the course of it to be
carried on, as it is: nor any, of its general end and design, without a moral Governor of it. That there is an
intelligent Author of Nature, and natural Governor of
* P. 1419, &c.' See Part II. Ch. Ii.




CO, P. anI.         CONCLUSION,                  159
tile world, is a prin.ciple gone upon in the foregoing
treatise; as proved, and generally known and confessed
to be proved. And the very notion of an intelligent
Author of Nature, proved by particular final causes, implies a will and a character.* Now, as our whole nature,
the nature which he has given us, leads us to conclude
his will and character to be moral, just, and good: so we
can scarce in imagination conceive, what it can be otherwise. However, in consequence of this his will and
character, whatever it be, he formed the universe as it
is, and carries on the course of it as he does, rather than
in any other manner; and has assigned to us, and to all
living creatures, a part and a lot in it. Irrational creatures act this their part, and enjoy and undergo the pleasures and the pains allotted them, without any reflection.
But one would think it impossible, that creatures endued
with reason could avoid reflecting Gornetimes upon all
this; reflecting, if not from  whenc.ce we came, yet, at
least, whither we are going; and what the mysterious
scheme, in the midst of which we find ourselves, will,
at length, come out and produce: a scheme in which it
is certain we are highly interested, and in which we may
be interested even beyond conception. Forr many things
prove it palpably absurd to conclude, that we shall cease
to be, at death. Particular analogies do most sensibly
show us, that-there is nothing to be thought strange, in
our being to exist in another state of life. And that we
are now living beings, affords a strong probability that
we shall continue so; unless there be some positive
ground, and there is none from  reason or analogy, to
thinkl death will destroy us. Were a persuasion of this
kind ever so well grounded, there would, surely, be little
reason to take pleasure in it. But indeed it can have
no other ground, than some such imagination, as that of
our gross bodies being ourselves; which is contrary to
experience. Experience too most clearly shows us the
folly of concluding, from the body and the living agent
affecting each other mutually, that the dissolution of the
former is the destruction of the latter. And there are
remarkable instances of their not affecting each other,
* P. 140.




160                CONCLUSION.               [PART I.
which lead us to a contrary conclusion. The supposition, then, which in all reason we are to go upon, is, that
our living nature will continue after death. And it is
infinitely unreasonable to formr an institution of life,
or to act upon any other supposition.  Now all expectation of immortality, whether more or less certain, opens an unbounded prospect to our hopes and
our fears: since we see the constitution of nature is such,
as to admit of misery, as well as to be productive of
happiness, and experience ourselves to partake of both
in some degree; and since we cannot but know, what
higher degrees of both we are capable of. And there
is no presumption against believing further, that our
future interest depends upon our present behaviour: for
we see our present interest doth; and that the happiness
and misery, which are naturally annexed to our actions,
very frequently do not follow, till long after the actions
are done, to which they are respectively annexed. So
that were speculation to leave us uncertain, whether it
were likely, that the Author of Nature, in giving happiness and misery to his creatures, hath regard to their
actions or not: yet, since we find by experience that he
hath such regard, the whole sense of things which hb
has given us, plainly leads us, at once and without any
elaborate inquiries, to think, that it may, indeed must, be
to good actions chiefly that he hath annexed happiness,
and to bad actions misery; or that he will, upon the
whole, reward those who do well, and punish those who
do evil.  To confirm this from the constitution of tihe
world, it has been observed, that some sort of moral go.
vernment is necessarily implied in that natural government of God, which we experience ourselves under;
that good and bad actions, at present, are naturally rewarded and punished, not only as beneficial and mischievous to society, but also as virtuous and vicious: and
that there is, in the very nature of the thing, a tendency
to their being rewarded and punished in a much higher
degree than thev are at present. And though this higher degree of distributive justice, which nature thus points
out and leads towards, is prevented for a time from takina' place; it is by obstacles, which the state of this world




Cr. 711.]           CONCLUSION.                 161
unhappily throws in its way, and which therefore are in
their nature temporary. Now, as these things in the
natural conduct of Providence are observable on the side
of virtue; so there is nothing to be set against them on
the side of vice. A moral scheme of government then
is visibly established, and, in some degree, carried into
execution: and this, together with the essential tendencies of virtue and vice duly considered, naturally raise
in us an apprehension, that it will be carried on further
towards perfection in a future state, and that every one
shall there receive according to his deserts. And if this
be so, then our future and general. interest, under the
moral government of God, is appointed to depend upon
our behaviour; notwithstanding the difficulty, which
this may occasion, of securing it, and the danger of losing it: just in the same manner as our temporal interest,
under his natural government, is appointed to depenJ
upon cur behaviour; notwithstanding the like difficulty
and danger.  For, from our original constitution, antl
that of the world which we inhabit, we are naturallyv
trusted with ourselves; with our own conduct and our
own interest. And from the same constitution of nature,
especially joined with that course of things which is
owing to men, we have temptations to be unfaithful in
this trust; to forfeit this interest, to neglect it, and run
ourselves into misery and ruin. From these temptations
arise the difficulties of behaving so as to secure oum
temporal interest, and the hazard of behaving so as to
miscarry in it. There is therefore nothing incredible in
supposing there may be the like difficulty and hazard
with regard to that chief and final good, which Religion
lays before us.  Indeed the whole account, how it caIne
to pass that we were placed in such a condition as this,
must be beyond our comprehension. But it is in part
accounted for by what Religion teaches us, that the
character of virtue and piety must be a necessary qualification for a future state of security and happiness,
under the moral government of God; in like manner,
as some certain qualifications or other are necessary
for every particular condition of life, under his natural
government: and that the present state was intended to
L




162                 CONCLUSION.                [FART L
be a school of discipline, for improving in ourselves that
character. Now this intention of nature is rendered
highly credible by observing; that we are plainly made
for improvement of all kinds: that it is a general appointment of Providence, that we cultivate practical principles,
and form within ourselves habits of action, in order to
become fit for what we were wholly unfit for before: that
in particular, childhood and youth is naturally appointed
to be a state of discipline for mature age: and that the
present world is peculiarly fitted for a state of moral discipline.  And,'whereas objections are urged against the
whole notion of moral government and a probationary
state, from the opinion of Necessity; it has been shown,
that God has given us the evidence, as it were, of experience, that all objections against Religion, on this head,
are vain and delusive. He has also, in.his natural government, suggested an answer to all our short-sighted
objections, against the equity and goodness of his moral
government; and in general he has exemplified to us
the latter by the former.
These things, which it is to be remembered, are matters of fact, ought, in all common sense, to awaken mankind; to induce them to consider in earnest their condition, and what they have to do.  It is absurd, absurd
to the degree of being ridiculous, if the subject were not
of so serious a kind, for men to think themselves secure
in a vicious life; or even in that immoral thoughtlessness,
which far the greatest part of them are fallen into. And
the credibility of Religion, arising from experience and
facts here considered, is fully sufficient, in reason, to
engage them to live in the general practice of all virtue
and piety; under the serious apprehension, though it
should be mixed with some doubt,* of a righteous administration established in nature, and a future judgment
in consequence of it: especially when we consider, how
very questionable it is, whether any thing at all can be
"ailned by vice;t how unquestionably little as well as
precarinous, the pleasures and profits of it are at the best,,: wi how( soon they must be parted with at tne longest.
For, in the deliberations of reason, concerning what we
*Part II. Ch. vP.. P. 86




Cal. VIA.]         CONCLUSION.                163
are to pursue and what to avoid, as temptations to any
thing from mere passion are supposed out of the case:
so inducements to vice, from cool expectations of pleasure and interest so small and uncertain and short, are
really so insignificant, as, in the view of reason to be
almost nothing in themselves; and in comparison with
the importance of Religion they quite disappear and are
lost. Mere passion indeed may be alleged, though not
as a reason, yet as an excuse, for a vicious course of life.
And how sorry an excuse it is, will be manifest.by
observing, that we are placed in a condition in which we
are unavoidably inured to govern our passions, by being
necessitated to govern them: and to lay ourselves under
the same kind of restraints, and as great ones too, from
temporal regards, as virtue and piety, in the ordinary
course of things, require. The plea of ungovernable
passion then, on the side of vice, is the poorest of all
things; for it is no reason, and but a poor excuse. But
the proper motives to religion are the proper proofs of
it, from our moral nature, from the presages of conscience,
and our natural apprehension of God under the character of a righteous Governor and Judge: a nature, and
conscience, and apprehension, given us by him; and from
the confirmation of the dictates of reason, by liJf  and
immortality brought to light by the Gospel; and the wrath
of God revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and
unrighteousness of men.
END OF THE FIRST PART.,








ANALOG Y OF RELIGION.
PART II.
OF REVEALED RELIGION.
CHAP I.
OF THE IMPORTANCE OF CHRISTIANITI.
SOME l)ersons, upon pretence of the sufficiency of the
light of nature, avowedly reject all revelation, as, in its
very notion, incredible, and what must be fictitious. And
indeed it is certain, no revelation would have been given,
had the light of nature been sufficient in such a sense, as
to render one not wanting and useless. But no man, in
seriousness and simplicity of mind, can possibly think it
so, who considers the state of Religion in the heathen
world before revelation, and its present state in those
places which have borrowed no light from it: particuiarly the doubtfulness of some of the greatest men, concerning things of the utmost importance, as well as the
natural inattention and ignorance of mankind in general.
(t is impossible to say, who would have been able to
have reasoned out that whole system, which we call
natural Religion, in its genuine simplicity, clear of superstition: but there is certainly no ground to affirm that
the generality could. If they could, there is no sort of
probability that they would. Admitting there were, they
would highly want a standing admonition to remind them
of it, and inculcate it upon them.
And further still, were they as much disposed to attend
to Religion, as the better sort of men are; yet even upon
this supposition, there would be various occasions for
supernatural instruction and assistance, and the greatest




166                OF THE IMPORTANCE                [PART U.
advantages might be afforded1 by them. So that to say
revelation is a thing superflucus, what there was no need
of, and what can be of no service, is, I think, to talk quite
wildly and at random. Nor would it be more extravagant to affirm, that mankind is so entirely at ease in the
present state, and life so completely happy, that it is a
contradiction to suppose our condition capable of being,
in any respect, better.
There are other persons, not to be ranked with these,
who seem to be getting into a way of neglecting, and, as
it were, overlooking revelation, as of small importance,
provided natural Religion be kept to. With little regard
either to the evidence of the former, or to the objections
against it, and even upon supposition of its truth; "the
only design of it," say they, " must be, to establish a
belief of the moral system of nature, and to enforce the
practice of' natural piety and virtue. The belief and practice of these things were, perhaps, much promoted by
the first publication of Christianity: but whether they
are believed and practised, upon the evidence and motives of nature or of revelation, is no great matter."*
This way of considering revelation, though it is not the
same with the former, yet borders nearly upon it, and
very much, at length, runs up into it: and requires to be
particularly considered, with regard te the persons who
seem  to be getting into this way.  The consideration of
it will likewise further show the extravagance of the former opinion, and the truth of the observations in answer
to it, just mentioned.  And an inquiry into the Importance of Christianity, cannot be an improper introduction to a treatise concerning the credibility of it.
Now if God has given a revelation to mankind, and
commanded those things which are commanded in Christianity; it is evident, at first sight, that it cannot in any
wise be an indifferent matter, whether we obey or disobey those commands: unless we are certainly assured,
* Invenis multos -     propterea itollh fieri Christianos, quia quasi sufficiunt sibi
ne bona vita stan. Bene vivere opus est, ait. Quid mihi pr'&cepturus est Christus?
Ut lbetie vivam? Jam bene vivo. Quid inihi necessarius est Christus; nullum
boulicidiull X., ullcm fiirtilnl, nullaml rapinam facio, res alienas non concupi4so, nullo
adulterio colitarmilolr? Narn inveniatur in vita mea alqluid quod reprehendatur, et
qui reprehendcrit faciat Christianum. A4ug. it, PsaM. xxii.




OMar. I.]          OF CHRISIIANITY.                167
that we know all the reasons for them, and that all
those reasons are now ceased, with regard to mankind
in general, or to ourselves in particular. And it is absolutely impossible we can be assured of this. For our
ignorance of these reasons proves nothing in the case:
since the whole analogy of nature shows, what is indeed
in itself evident, that there may be infinite reasons for
things, with which we are not acquainted.
But the importance of Christianity will more distinctly
appear, by considering it more distinctly: First, as a republication, and external institution, of natural or essential Religion, adapted to the present circumstances
of mankind, and intended to promote natural piety and
virtue: and Secondly, as containing an account of a
dispensation of things, not discoverable by reason, in
consequence of which several distinct precepts are enjoined us.  For though natural Religion is the foundation and principal part of Christianity, it is not in any
sense the whole of it.
I. Christianity is a republication of natural Religion.
It instructs mankind in the moral system of the world:
that it is the work of an infinitely perfect Being, and
tinder his government; that virtue is his law; and that
he will finally judge mankind in righteousness, and
render to all according to their works, in a future state.
And, which is very material, it teaches natural Religion
in its genuine simplicity; free from those superstitions,
with which it was totally corrupted, and under which it
was in a manner lost.
Revelation is, further, an authoritative publication of
natural Religion, and so affords the evidence of testimony for the truth of it.  Indeed the miracles and
prophecies recorded in Scripture, were intended to
prove a particular dispensation of Providence, the redemption of the world by the Messiah: but this does
not hinder, but that they may also prove God's general
providence over the world, as our moral Governor and
Judcre.  And they evidently do prove it; because this
character of the Author of Nature, is necessarily connected with and implied ix) that particular revealed
dispensation of thingTs: it is likewise continually taught




168             OF THE IMPORTANCE            [PART IL
expressly, and insisted upon, by those persons who
wrought the miracles and delivered the prophecies. So
that indeed natural Religion seems as much proved by
the Scripture revelation, as it would have been, had the
design of revelation been nothing else than to prove it.
But it may possibly be disputed, how far miracles can
prove natural Religion; and notable objections may be
urged against this proof of it, considered as a matter of
speculation: but considered as a practical thing, there
can be none. For suppose a person to teach natural
Religion to a nation, who had lived in total ignorance or
forgetfulness of it; and to declare he was commissioned
by God so to do: suppose him, in proof of his commission, to foretell things future, which no human foresight
could have guessed at; to divide the sea with a word;
feed great multitudes with bread from heaven; cure  11
manner of diseases; and raise the dead, even himself, to
life; would not this give additional credibility to his
teaching, a credibility beyond what that of a common
man would have; and be an authoritative publication of
the law of nature, i. e. a new proof of it P It would be a
practical one, of the strongest kind, perhaps, which
human creatures are capable of having given them.
The Law of Moses then, and the Gospel of Christ, are
authoritative publications of the religion of nature; they
afforda proof'of God's general providence, as mnoral Governor of the world, as well as of his particular dispensations of
providence towards sinful creatures, revealed in the Law
and the Gospel. As they are the only evidence of the
latter, so they are an additional evidence of the former.
To show this further, let us suppose a man of the
greatest and most improved capacity, who had neve.
heard of revelation, convinced upon the whole, notwithstanding the disorders of the world, that it was under
the direction and moral government of an infinitely
perfect Being; but ready to question, whether he were
not got beyond the reach of his faculties: suppose him
brought, by this suspicion, into great danger of being
carried away by the universal bad example of almost every
one around himn, who appeared to have no sense, no practical sense at least, of these things: and this, perhaps,




LHAP. I.]        OF CHRISTIANITY.              169
would be as advantageous a situation with regard to
Religion, as nature alone ever placed any man in.
What a confirmation now must it be to such a person,
all at once, to find, that this moral system of things was
revealed to mankind, in the name of that infinite Being,
whom he had from principles of reason believed in: and
that the publishers of the revelation proved their commission from him, by making it appear, that he had
entrusted them with a power of suspending and clhanging the general laws of nature.
Nor must it by any means be omitted, for it is a thing
of the utmost importance, that life and immortality are
eminently brought to light by the Gospel. The great
doctrines of a future state, the danger of a course of
wickedness, and the efficacy of repentance, are not only
confirmed in the Gospel, but are taught, especially the
last is, with a degree of light, to which that of nature is
but darkness.
Further: As Christianity served these ends and purposes, when it was first published, by the miraculous
publication itself; so it was intended to serve the same
purposes in future ages, by means of the settlement of a
visible church: of a society, distinguished from common
ones, and from the rest of the world, by peculiar religious institutions; by an instituted method of instruction,
and an instituted form of external Religion.  Miraclous
powers were given to the first preachers of Christianity,
in order to their introducing it into the world: a visible
church was established, in order to continue it, and carry
it on successively throughout all ages.  Had Moses and
the Prtophets, Christ and his Apostles, only taught, and
by miracles proved. Religion to their contemporaries;
the benefits of their instructions would have reached but
to a small part of mankind. Christianity must have been,
in a great degree, sunk and forgot in a very few ages.
To prevent this, appears to have been one reason why
a visible church was instituted: to be, like a city upon
a hill, a standing memorial to the world of the duty
which we owe our Maker: to call men continually, both
by example and instruction, to attend to it, and, by the
form of Religion, ever before their eyes, remind them of




170             OP THE IMPORTANCE           [PArTl
the reality: to be the repository of the oracles of God:
to hold up the light of revelation in aid to that of nature,
and propagate it throughout all generations to the end of
the world-the light of revelation, considered here in no
other view, than as designed to enforce natural Religion.
And in proportion as Christianity is professed and taught
in the world, Religion, natural or essential Religion, is
thus distinctly and advantageously laid before mankMhd,
and brought again and again to their thoughts, as a
matter of infinite importance. A visible church has also
a further tendency to promote natural Religion, as being
an instituted method of education, originally intended to
be of more peculiar advantage to those who conform to
it. For one end of the institution was, that, by admonition and reproof, as well as instruction; by a general
regular d iscipline, and public exercises of Religion; the
%ody of Christ, as the Scripture speaks, should be edified;.. e. trained up in piety and virtue for a higher and better
state. This settlement, then, appearing thus beneficial;
tending in the nature of the thing to answer, and, in
some degree, actually answering, those ends; it is to be
remembered, that the very notion of it implies positive
institutions; for the visibility of the church consists in
them. Take away every thing of this kind, and you
lose the very notion itself.  So that if the things now
mentioned are advantages, the reason and importance of
positive institutions in general is most obvious; since
without them these advantages could not be secured to
the world. And it is mere idle wantonness, to insist
upon knowing the reasons, why such particular ones
were fixed upon rather than others.
The benefit arising from this supernatural assistance,
which Christianity affords to natural Religion, is what
some persons are very slow in apprehending.  And yet
it is a thing distinct in itself, and a very plain obvious
one. For will any in good earnest really say, that the
bulk of mankind in the heathen world were in as advantageous a situation with regard to natural Religion, aC
they are now amongst us: that it was laid before them,
and enforced upon them, in a manner as distinct, and as
much tending to influence their practice P




C.a. I.]         OF CHRISTIANITY.              17 1
The objections against all this, from the perversion of
Christianity, and from the supposition of its having had
but little good influence, however innocently they may
be proposed, yet cannot be insisted upon as conclusive,
upon any principles, but such as lead to downright
Atheism; because the manifestation of the law of nature
by reason, which, upon all principles of Theism, must
have been from God, has been perverted and rendered
ineffectual in the same manner. It may indeed, I think,
truly be said, that the good effects of Christianity have
not been small; nor its supposed ill effects, any effects
at all of it, properly speaking. Perhaps, too, the things
themselves done have been aggravated; and if not,
Christianity hath been often only a pretence; and the
same evils in the main would have been done upon
soimre other pretence. However, great and shaciking as
the corruptions and abuses of it have' really been, they
cannot be insisted upon as arguments against it, upon
principles of Theism. For one cannot proceed one step
in reasoning upon natural Religion, any more than upon
Christianity, without laying it down as a first principle,
that the dispensations of Providence are not to be judged
of by their perversions, but by their genuine tendencies:
not by what they do actually seem to effect, but by what
they would effect if mankind did their part; that part
which is justly put and left upon them.  It is altogether
as much the language of one as of the other: He that is
un just, let him be unjust still: and he that is holy, let him
be holy still.* The light of reason does not, any more
than that of revelation, force men to submit to its
authority; both admonish them of what they ought to
do and avoid, together with the consequences of each;
and after this, leave them at full liberty to act just as
they please, till the appointed time of judgment. Every
moment's experience shows, that this is God's general
rule of government.
To return then: Christianity being a promulgation of
the l.aw of nature; being moreover an authoritative promulgation of it; with new light, and other circumstances
of peculiar advantage, adapted to the wants of mankind;
* Rev. xxii. 11.




172            OF THE IMPORTANCE              [PARr IL
these things fully show its importance. And it is to be
observed further, that as the nature of the case requires,
so all Christians are commanded to contribute, by their
profession of Christianity, to preserve it in he world,
and render it such a promulgation and enforcement of
Religion. For it is the very scheme of the Gospel, that
each Christian should, in his degree, contribute towards
contifiuing and carrying it on: all by uniting in the
public profession and external practice of Christianity;
some by instructing, by having the oversight and taking
care of this religious community, the Church of God.
Now this further shows the importance of Christianity;
and, which is what I chiefly intend, its importance in a
practical sense: or the high obligations we are under, to
take it into our most serious consideration; and the
danger there must necessarily be, not only in treating it
despitefully, which I am not now speaking of, but in
disregarding and neglecting it.  For this is neglecting to
do what is expressly enjoined us, for continuing those
benefits to the world, and transmitting them down to
future times. And all this holds, even though the only
thing to be considered in Christianity, were its subserviency to natural Religion. But,
II. Christianity is to be considered in a further view;
as containing an account of a dispensation of things,
not at all discoverable by reason, in consequence of
which several distinct precepts are enjoined us. Christianity is not only an external institution of natural
Religion, and a new promulgation of God's general providence, as righteous Governor and Judge of the world;
but it contains also a revelation of a particular dispensation of Providence, carrying on by his Son and Spirit,
for the recovery and salvation of mankind, who are
represented in Scripture to be in a state of ruin. And
in consequence of this revelation being made, we are
commanded to be baptized, not only in the name of t4e
Father, but also, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: and
other obligations of duty, unknown before, to the Son
and the Holy Ghost, are revealed. Now the importance
of these duties may be judged of, by observing that they
aris(e, not from positive command merely, but also from




Coiw. L]           OF CHRISTIANITY.                173
the offices, which appear, from  Scripture, to belong to
those divine persons in the Gospel dispensation; or from
the relations, which, we are there informed, they stand
in to us. By reason is revealed the relation, which God
the Father stands in to us. Hence arises the obligation
of duty which we are under to him.  In Scripture are
revealed the relations, which the Son and Holy Spirit
stand in to us.  Hence arise the obligations of duty,
which we are under to them. The truth of the case, as
one may speak, in each of these three respects being
admitted: that God is the governor of the world, upon
the evidence of reason; that Christ is the mediator
between God and man, and the Holy Ghost our guide
and sanctifier, upon the evidence of revelation: the
truth of the case, I say, in each of these respects being
admitted; it is no more a question, why it should be
commanded, that we be baptized in the name of the
Son and of the Holy Ghost, than that we be baptized in
the name of the Father. This matter seems to require
to be more fully stated.*
Let it be remembered, then, that Religion comes
under the twofold consideration of internal and external:
for the latter is as real a part of Religion, of true Religion, as the former.  Now when Religion is considered
under the first notion, as an inward principle, to be
exerted in such and such inward acts of the mind and
heart; the essence of natural Religion may be said to
consist in religious regards to God the Father Alnighty:
and the essence of revealed Religion, as distinguished
from natural, to consist in religious regards to the Son,
andl to the Holy Ghost.  And the obligation we are
under, of paying these religious regards to each of these
divine persons respectively, arises from the respective
relations which they each stand in to us. How these relations are made known, whether by reason or revelation,
makes no alteration in the case: because the duties arise
out of the relations themselves, not out of the manner in
which we are informed of them. The Son and Spirit
have each his proper office in that great dispensation of
* See The Nature, Obligation, and Efficacy, of the Christian Sacraments, he., and
Clliller of revealed Religion as there quoted.




174             OF THE IMPORTANCE            [PART II.
Providence, the redemption of the world; the one our
mediator, the other our sanctifier.  Does not then the
duty of religious regards to both these divine persons,
as immediately arise to the view of reason, out of
the very nature of these offices and relations; as the
inward good-will and kind intention, which we owe to
our fellow creatures, arises out of the common relations
between us and them P  But it will be asked, " What
are the inward religious regards, appearing thus obviously due to the Son and Holy Spirit; as arising, not
merely from command in Scripture, but from the very
nature of the revealed relations, which they stand in to
us?"   I answer, the religious regards of reverence,
h6nour, love, trust, gratitude, fear, hope.  In what
external manner this inward worship is to be expressed,
is a matter of pure revealed command; as perhaps the
external manner, in which God the Father is to be worshipped, may be more so, than we are ready to think:
but the worship, the internal worship itself, to the Son
and Holy Ghost, is no further matter of pure revealed
command, than as the relations they stand in to us are
matter of pure revelation: for the relations being known,
the obligations to such internal worship are obligations
of reason, arising out of those relations themselves.  In
short, the history of the Gospel as immediately shows
us the reason of these obligations, as it shows us the
meaning of the words, Son and Holy Ghost.
If this account of the Christian Religion be just; those
persons who can speak lightly of it, as of little consequence, provided natural Religion be kept to, plainly
forget, that Christianity, even what is peculiarly so
called, as distinguished from natural Religion, has yet
somewhat very important, even of a moral nature. For
the office of our Lord being made known, and the relation he stands in to us, the obligation of religious
regards to him is plainly moral, as much as charity to
mankind is; since this obligation arises, before external
command, immediately out of that his office and relation
itself. Those persons appear to forget, that revelation
is to be considered, as informing us of somewhat new
in the state of mankind, and in the government of the




CXat. I.A          OF CHRISTIANITY.             175
world: as acquainting us with some -relations we stand
in, which could not otherwise have been known.  And
these relations being real (though before revelation we
could be under no obligations from them, yet upon their
being revealed), there is no reason to think, but that
neglect of behaving suitably to them will be attended with
the same kind of consequences under God's government,
as neglecting to behave suitably to any other relations
made known to us by reason. And ignorance, whether
unavoidable or voluntary, so far as we can possibly see,
will just as much, and just as little, excuse in one case as
in the other: the ignorance being supposed equally
unavoidable, or equally voluntary, in both cases.
If therefore Christ be indeed the mediator between
God and man, i. e. if Christianity be true; if he be indeed our Lord, our Saviour, and our God; no one can
say, what may follow, not only the obstinate, but the
careless disregard to him, in those high relations. Nay
no one can say, what may follow such disregard, even in
tile way of natural consequence.*  For, as the natural
consequences of vice in this life are doubtless to be considered as judicial punishments inflicted by God; so
likewise, for aught we know, the judicial punishments of
the future life may be, in a like way or a like sense, the
natural consequence of vice:t of men's violating or disregarding the relations which God has placed them in here,
and made known to them.
Again: If mankind are corrupted and depraved in
their moral character, andl so aie unfit for that state,
which Christ is gone to prepare for his disciples; and if
the assistance of God's Spirit be necessary to renew their
nature, in the degree requisite to their being qualified for
that state; all which is implied in the express, though
figurative declaration, Except a man be born of the Spi'rit,
he cannot enter into the kingdom of God:l supposing this,
is it possible any serious person can think it a slight
matter, whether or no he makes use of the means, expressly commanded by God, for obtaining this divine
assistanceP especially since the whole analogy of nature
shows, that we are not to expect any benefits, without.
*P. 72. 73.    t Ch. v.: John iii. v.




176               OF THE IMPORTANCE                 [PAa
making use of the appointed means for obtaining or
enjoying them.  Now reason shows us nothing, of the
particular immediate means of obtaining either temporal or spiritual benefits. This therefore we must learn,
either from experience or revelation. And experience,
the present case does not admit of.
The conclusion from all this evidently is, that, Chlristianity being supposed either true or credible, it is
unspeakable irreverence, and really the most presumptuous rashness, to treat it as a light matter.  It can
never justly be esteemed of little consequence, till it be
positively supposed false. Nor do I know a higher and
more important obligation which we are under, than
that of examining most seriously into the evidence of it,
supposing its credibility; and of embracing it, upon supposition of its truth.
The two following deductions may be proper to be
added, in order to illustrate the foregoing observations,
and to prevent their being mistaken.
First, Hence we may clearly see, where lies the distinction between what is positive and what is moral in
Religion. Moral precepts are precepts, the reasons of
which we see: positive precepts are precepts, the reasons of which we do not see.* Moral duties arise out of
the nature of the case itself, prior to external command.
Positive duties do not arise out of the nature of the case,
but from external command; nor would they be duties
at all, were it not for such command, received from him
whose creatures and subjects we are. But the manner
in which the nature of the case, or the fact of the relation, is made known, this doth not denominate any duty
either positive or moral. That we be baptized in the name
of the Father is as much a positive duty, as that we be
baptized in the name of the Son; because both arise equally
from revealed command: though the relation which we
sland in to God the Father is made known to us by reason; the relation we stand in to Christ, by revelation only.
* This is the distinction between moral and positive precepts considered respectively as such. But yet, since' the latter have somewhat of a moral nature, we may
see the reason of them, considered in this view. 1M\oral and ocsitve precepts are in
some respects alike, in other respects different. So far as they are alike, we discern
the reasons of both; so far as they are different, we di:,scern the reasons of the for
ruer, blut not of the latter. See p. 168, &c., and p. 177.




OF CHRIST)iA7'TY.            177
On the other hand, the dispensation of the Gospei
admittsd, gratitude as immediately becomes due to Christ,
from his being the voluntary minister of this dispensation,
as it is due to God the Father, from his being the fountain of all good; though the first is made known to us by
revelation only, the second by reason. Hence also we
may see, and, for distinctness' sake, it may be worth mentioning, that positive institutions come under a twofold
consideration.  They are either institutions founded on
natural Religion, as baptism in the name of the Father;
though this has also a particular reference to the Gospel
dispensation, for it is in the name of God, as the Father
of our Lord Jesus Christ: or they are external institutions founded on revealed Religion; as baptism in the
name of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.
Secondly, From the distinction between what is moral
and what is positive in Religion, appears the ground of
that peculiar preference, which the Scripture teaches us
to be due to the former.
The reason of positive institutions in general is very
obvious; though we should not see the reason, why such
particular ones are pitched upon rather than others.
Whoever therefore, instead of cavilling at words, will
attend to the thing itself, may clearly see, that positive institutions in general, as distinguished from this
or that particular one, have the nature of moral commands; since the reasons of them  appear.  Thus, for
instance, the external worship of God is a moral duty,
though no particular mode of it be so. Care then is to
be taken, when a comparison is made between positive
and moral duties, that they be compared no further than
as they are different; no further than as the former are
positive, or arise out of mere external command, the
reasons of which we are not acquainted with; and as
the latter are moral, or arise out of the apparent reason
of the case, without such external command. Unless
this caution be observed, we shall run into endless
confusion.
Now this being premised, suppose two standing pre-.epts enjoined by the same authority; that, in certain
conjunctures, it is impossible to obey both; that thle former
Mi




178              OF IHE IMPORTANCE            [Pral 
is moral i. e a precept of which we see the reasons,
and that they hold in the particular case before us; but
that the latter is positive, i. e. a precept of which we do
not see the reasons: it is indisputable that our obligations are to obey the former; because there is an apparent reason for this preference, and none against it.
Further, positive institutions, I suppose all those which
Christianity enjoins, are means to a moral end: and the
end must be acknowledged more excellent than the
means.  Nor is observance of these institutions any
religious obedience at all, or of any value, otherwise
than as it proceeds from a moral principle. This seems
to be the strict logical way of stating and determining
this matter; but will, perhaps, be found less applicable
to practice, than.may be thought at first sight.
And therefore, in a more practical, though more lax
way of consideration, and taking the words, moral law
and positive institutions, in the popular sense; I add,
that the whole moral law is as much matter of revealed
command, as positive institutions are: for the Scripture
enjoins every moral virtue.  In this respect then they
are both upon a level. But the moral law is, moreover,
written upon our hearts; interwoven into our very
nature. And this is a plain intimation of the Author of
it, which is to be preferred, when they interfere.
But there is not altogether so much necessity for the
determination of this question, as some persons seem to
think. Nor are we left to reason alone to di!termine it.
For, First, Though mankind have, in all ages, been
greatly prone to place their religion in peculiar positive
rites, by way of equivalent for obedience to moral precepts; yet, without making any comparison at all
between them, and consequently without determining
Which is to have the preference, the nature of the thing
abundantly shows all notions of that kind to be utterly
subversive of true Religion as they are, moreover, contrary to the whole general tenor of Scripture; and likewise to the most express particular declarations of it,
that nothing can render us accepted of God, without
moral virtue.  Secondly, Upon the occasion of mentioning together positive and moral duties, the Scripture




CeAPr  ]          OF CHRISTIANITY.                 179
always puts the stress of Religion upon the latter, and'
never upon the former: which, though no sort of allowance to neglect the former, when they do not interfere
with the latter, yet is a plain intimation, that when they
do, the latter are to be preferred. And further, as
mankind are for placing the stress of their religion any
where, rather than upon virtue; lest both the reason
of the thing, and the general spirit of Christianity,
appearing in the intimation now mentioned, should be
ineffectual against this prevalent folly: our I ord himself, from whose command alone thie obligation of positive institutions arises, has taken occasion to make the
comparison between them and moral precepts; when
the Pharisees censured him, for eating with publicans and
sinners; and also when they censured his disciples, for
plucking the ears oJ'f corn on the Sabbath d:ay.  Upon this
comparison, he has determined expressly, and in form,
which shall have the preference when they interfe.r-.
And by delivering his authoritative determination in a
proverbial manner of expression, he has made it general: I will have mercy, and not sacrifice.'  The propriety of the word proverbial, is not the thing insisted
upon: hbough I think the manner of speaking is to be
called so.  But that the manner of speaking very
remarkably renders the determination general, is surely
indisputable.  For, had it, in the latter case, been said
only, that God preferred mercy to the rigid observance
of the Sabbath; even then, by parity of reason, most
justly might we have argued, that he preferred mercy
likewise, to the observance of other ritual institutions;
and in general, moral duties, to positive ones. And
thus the determination would have been general; though
its being so were inferred and not expressed.  But as
the passage really stands in the Gospel, it is much
stronger.  For the sense and the very literal words of
our Lord's answer are as applicable to any other
instance of a comparison, between positive and moral
duties, as to this upon which they were spoken.  And
if, in case of competition, mercy is to be preferred to
positive institutions, it will scarce be thought, that
* Matth. ix. 13, and xii. 7,
M S




1 80            OF THE IMPORTANCE            [Pim? l,
justice is to give place to them. It is remarkable too,
that, as the words are a quotation from the Old Testament, they are introduced, on both the forementioned
occasions, with a declaration, that the Pharisees did not
understand the meaning of them. This, I say, is very
remarkable.  For, since it is scarce possible, for the
most ignorant person, not to understand the literal sense
of the passage, in the Prophet;' and since understanding
the literal sense would not have prevented their condemninzg the guiltless,t it can hardly be doubted, that
the thing which our Lord really intended in that declaration was, that the Pharisees had not learned from it,
as they might, wherein the general spirit of Religion
consists: that it consists in moral piety and virtue, as
distinguished from forms, and ritual observances. However, it is certain we may learn this from his divine
application of the passage, in the Gospel.
But, as it is one of the peculiar weaknesses of human
nature, when, upon a comparison of two things, one is
found to be of greater importance than the other, to
consider this other as of scarce any importance at all:
it is highly necessary that we remind ourselves, how
great presumption it is, to make light of any institutions
of divine appointment; that our obligations to obey all
God's commands whatever are absolute and indispensable; and that commands merely positive, admitted to
be from him, lay us under a moral obligation to obey
them: an obligation moral in the strictest and most
proper sense.
To these things I cannot forbear adding, that the
account now given of Christianity most strongly shows
and enforces upon us the obligation of searching the
Scriptures, in order to see, what the scheme of revelation really is; instead of determining beforehand, from
reason, what the scheme of it must be.' Indeed if in
Revelation there be found any passages, the seenling
meaning of which is contrary to natural Religion; we
may most certainly conclude, such seeming meaning
not to be the real one.  But it is not any degree of a
presumption against an interpretation of Scripture, that
* Hoe. vi,   ~ See Matth. xii.  vii.    See Chap. iiL




*11AP. iL.        OF CHRISTIANITY                 181
such interpretation contains a doctrine, which the light
of nature cannot discover;* or a precept, which the la
of nature does not oblige to.
CHAP. II.
OF THE SUPPOSED PRESUMPTION AGAINST A REVELATION
CONSIDERED AS MIRACULOUS.
HAVING shown the importance of the Christian revelation, and the obligations which we are under seriously
to attend to it, upon supposition of its truth, or its credibility: the next thing in order, is to consider the supposed presumptions against revelation in general; which
shall be the subject of this Chapter: and the objections
against the Christian in particular; which shall be the
subject of some following ones.t For it seems the most
natural method, to remove the prejudices against Christianity, before we proceed to the consideration of the
positive evidence for it, and the objections against that
evidence.t
It is, I think, commonly supposed, that there is some
peculiar presumption, from the analogy of nature, against
the Christian scheme of things; at least against miracles;
so as that strQnger evidence is necessary to prove the
truth and reality of them, than would be sufficient to convince us of other events, or matters of fact. Indeed the
consideration of this supposed presumption cannot but
be thought very insignificant, by many persons.  Yet,
as it belongs to the subject of this Treatise; so it may
tend to open the mind, and remove some prejudices:
hlomwever needless the consideration of it be, upon its
ow I account.
I. I find no appearance of a presumption, from  the
analogy of nature, against the general scheme of Christianity, that God created and invisibly governs the world
by Jesus Christ; and by him also will hereafter judge it
in righteousness, i. e. render to every one according to
his works; and that good men are under the secret
* P. 181, 182.   t  Ch. iii. iv. v. vi.  I Ch. vii




OF THE SUPPOSED PRESUMPTION       [PART I!
influence of his Spirit. Whether these things are, or
are not, to be called miraculous, is, perhaps, only a
question about words; or however, is of no moment in
the case. If the analogy of nature raises any presumption.against this general scheme of Christianity, it must
be, either because it is not discoverable by reason or experience; or else, because it is unlike that course of nature,
which is. But analogy raises no presumption against
the truth of this scheme, upon either of these accounts.
First, There is no presumption, from analogy, against
the truth of it, upon account of its not being discoverable by reason or experience. For suppose one who
never heard of revelation, of the most improved understanding, and acquainted with our whole system of
natural philosophy and natural religion; such a one
could not but be sensible, that it was but a very small
part of the natural and moral system of the universe,
which he was acquainted with. He could not but be
sensible, that there must be innumerable things, in the
dispensations of Providence past, in the invisible government over the world at present carrying on, and in what
is to come; of which he was wholly ignorant,* and which
could not be discovered without revelation.  Whether
the scheme of nature be, in the strictest sense, infinite
or not; it is evidently vast, even beyond all possible
imagination.  And doubtless that part of it, which is
opened to our view, is but as a point, in comparison of
the whole plan of Providence, reaching throughout
eternity past and future; in comparison of what is even
now going on in the remote parts of the boundless
universe; nay, in comparison of the whole scheme of
this world. And therefore, that things lie beyond the
natural reach of our faculties, is no sort of presumption
against the truth and reality of them: because it is certain, there are innumerable things, in the constitution
and government of the universe, which are thus beyond
the natural reach of our faculties. Secondly, Analogy
raises no presumption against any of the things contained in this general doctrine of Scripture now men.
tioIlned, upon account of their being unlike the known
* P. 149.




Cw. S.j          AGAINST MIRACLES.              183
course of nature.  For there is no presumption at all
from analogy, that the whole course of things, or divine
government, naturally unknown to us, and every thing
in it, is like to any thing in that which is known; and
therefore no peculiar presumption against any thing in
the former, upon account of its being unlike to any thing
in the latter.  And in the constitution and natural
government of the world, as well as in the moral
government of it, we see things, in a great degree,
unlike one another: and therefore ought not to wonder
at such unlikeness between things visible and invisible.
However, the scheme of Christianity is by no means
entirely unlike the scheme of nature; as will appear in
the following part of this Treatise.
The notion of a miracle, considered as a proof of a
divine mission, has been stated with great exactness by
divines; and is, I think, sufficiently understood by every
one. There are also invisible miracles, the Incarnation
of Christ, for instance, which, being secret, cannot be
alleged as a proof of such a mission; but require themselves to be proved by visible miracles.  Revelation
itself too is miraculous; and miracles are the proof of it;
and the supposed presumption against these shall presently be considered. All which I have been observing
here is, that, whether we choose to call every thing in
the dispensations of Providence, not discoverable without revelation, nor like the known course of things,
miraculous; and whether the general Christian dispensation now mentioned is to be called so, or not; the foregoing observations seem certainly to show, that there is
no presumption against it from the analogy of nature.
II. There is no presumption, from analogy, against
some operations, which we should now call miraculous;
particularly none against a revelation at the beginning of
the world: nothing of such presumption against it, as is
supposed to be implied or expressed in the word, mniraculous. For a miracle, in its very notion, is relative to a
course of nature; and implies somewhat differenrt from
it, considered as being so. Now, either there was no
course of nature at the time which we are speaking of;
or if there were, we are not acquainted what the course




184       OF THE SUPPOSED PRESUMPTION        [PAR? II
of nature is, upon the first peopling of worlds. And
therefore the question, whether mankind had a revelation
made to them at that time, is to be considered, not as a
question concerning a miracle, but as a common question
of fact. And we have the like reason, be it more or less,'to admit the report of tradition, concerning this question,
and concerning common matters of fact of the same
antiquity; for instance, what part of the earth was first
peopled.
Or thus: When mankind was first placed in this state,
there was a power exerted, totally different from the present course of nature.  Now, whether this power, thus
wholly different from the present course of nature, for
we cannot properly apply to it the word miraculous;
whvther this power stopped imnmediately after it had made
man, or went on, and exerted itself further in giving himr
a revelation, is a question of the same kind, as whether
an ordinary power exerted itself in such a particular degree and manner, or not.
Or suppose the power exerted in the formation of the
world be considered as miraculous, or rather, be called
by that name; the case will not be different: since it
must be acknowledged, that such a power was exerted.
For supposing it acknowledged, that our Saviour spent
some years in a course of working miracles: there is no
more presumption, worth mentioning, against his having
exerted this miraculous power, in a certain degree
greater, than in a certain degree less; in one or two
more instances, than in ore or two fewer; in this, than
in another manner.
It is evident then, that tlere can be no peculiar presumption, from the analogy of nature, against supposing
a revelation, when man was first placed upon earth.
Add, that there does not appear the least intimation
in history or tradition, that Reliogion was first reasoned
out: but the whole of history and tradition makes for
the other side, that it came into the world by revelation.
Jndeed the state of Religion in the first ages, of which
we have anv account, seems to suppose and imply, that
this was the original of it amongst mankind.  And these
refiections together, without taking in the peculiar au



CHAP. 11.]      AGAINST MIRACLES.              1S5
thority of Scripture, amount to real and a very material
degree of evidence, that there was a revelation at the beginning of the world. Now this, as it is a confirmation
of natural Religion, and therefore mentioned in the
for.ler part of this Treatise;* so likewise it has a tendency to remove any prejudices against a subsequent
revelation.
III. But still it may be objected, that there is some
peculiar presumption, from analogy, against miracles;
particularly against revelation, after the settlement and
during the continuance of a course of nature.
Now with regard to this supposed presumption, it is
to be. observed in general, that before we can have
ground for raising what can, with any propriety, be called
an argument from analogy, for or against r velation considered as somewhat miraculous, we must be acquainted
with a similar or parallel case. But the history of some
other world, seemingly in like circumstances with our
own, is no more than a parallel case: and therefore nor
thing short of this can be so. Yet, could we come at a
presumptive proof, for or against a revelation, from being
informed, whether such world had one, or not; such a
proof, being drawn from one single instance only, must
be infinitely precarious. More particularly: First of all;
There is a very strong presumption against common
speculative truths, and against the most ordinary facts,
before the proof of them; which yet is overcome by
almost any proof. There is a presumption of millions
to one, against the story of Caesar, or of any other man.
For suppose a number of common facts so and so circumstanced, of which one had no kind of proof, should
happen to come into one's thoughts; every one would,
without any possible doubt, conclude them to be false.
And the like may be said of a single common fact. And
from hence it appears, that the question of importance,
as to the matter before us, is, concerning the degree of
the peculiar presumption supposed against miracles; not
whether there be any peculiar presumption at all against
them.  For, if there be the presumption of millions to
one, against the most common facts; what can a small
*P. 143, &c.




186       OF? THE SUPPOSED PRESUMPTION      [PRaT It
presumption, additional to this, amount to, thlough it h)e
peculiar? It cannot be estimated, and is as nothing.
The only material question is, whether there be any such
presumption against miracles, as to render them in any
sort incredible. Secondly, If we leave out the consideration of Religion, we are in such total darkness, upon
what causes, occasions, reasons, or circumstances, the
present course of nature depends; that there does not
appear any improbability for or against supposing, that
five or six thousand years may have given scope for
causes, occasions, reasons, or circumstances, from whence
miraculous interpositions may have arisen. And from
this, joined with the foregoing observation, it will follow,
that there must be a presumption, beyond all comparison,
greater, against the particular common facts just now
instanced in, than against miracles in general; before any
evidence of either. But, Thirdly, Take in the consideration of Religion, or the moral system of the world,
and then we see distinct particular reasons for miracles:
to afford mankind instruction additional to that of nature,
and to attest the truth of it. And this gives a real credibility to the supposition, that it might be part of the
original plan of things, that there should be miraculous
interpositions. Then, Lastly, Miracles must not be compared to common natural events; or to events which,
though uncommon, are similar to what we daily experience: but to the extraordinary phenomena of nature.
And then the comparison will be between the presumption against miracles, and the presumption against such
uncommon appearances, suppose, as comets, and against
there being any such powers in nature as magnetism and
electricity, so contrary to the properties of other bodies
not endued with these powers. And before any one can
determine, whether there be any peculiar presumption
against miracles, more than against other extraordinary
things; he must consider, what, upon first hearing,
would be the presumption against the last mentioned
appearances and powers, to a person acquainted only
with the daily, monthly, and annual course of nature respecting this earth, and with those common powers of
matter which we every daz- see.




CRAP. III.]      AGAINST MIRACLES.               187
Upon all this I conclude; that there certain v is no
such presumption against miracles, as to render thein in
any wise incredible: that, on the contrary, our being able
to discern reasons for them, gives a positive credibility
to the history of them, in cases where those reasons hold:
and that it is by no means certain, that there is any peculiar presumption at all, from analogy, even in the lowest
degree, against miracles, as distinguished from other extraordinary phenomena: though it is not worth while to
perplex the reader with inquiries into the abstract nature
of evidence, in order to determine a question, which,
without such inquiries, we see* is of no importance
CHAP. III.
OF OUR INCAPACITY OF JUDGING, WHAT WERE TO BE
EXPECTED IN A REVELATION; AND THE CREDIBILITY,
FROM  ANALOGY, THAT IT  MUST  CONTAIN  THINGS
APPEARING LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS.
BES1DES the objections against the evidence for Christianity, many are alleged against the scheme of it;
against the whole manner in which it is put a-cn left
with the world; as well as against several particular
relations in Scripture: objections drawn from the deficiencies of revelation: from things in it appearing to
men boli.shness;t from its containing matters of offence,
which have led, and it must have been foreseen would
lead, into strange enthusiasm and superstition, and be
made to serve the purposes of tyranny and wickedness;
from its not being universal; and, which is a thing of
the same kind, from its evidence not being so convincing and satisfactory as it might have been: for this last
is sometimes turned into a positive argument against its
truth.A  It would be tedious, indced impossible, to enumerate the several particulars comprehended under the
objections here referred to; they being so various,
according to the different fancies of men.  There are
persons who think it a strong objection against the
* P. 195.     t I Cor. i. 28.   $ See Ch. vi.




188       THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATION       [PART IL
authority of Scripture, that it is not composed y)v rules oi
art, agreed upon by critics, for polite and correct writing.
And the scorn is inexpressible, with which some of the
prophetic parts of Scripture -are treated: partly through
the rashness of interpreters; but very much also, on
account of the hieroglyphical and figurative language, in
which they are left us. Some of the principal things oI
this sorlt shall be particularly considered in the following
Chapters. But my design at present is to observe in
general, with respect to this whole way of arguing, that,
upon supposition of a revelation, it is highly credible
beforehand, we should be incompetent judges of it to a
great degree: and that it would contain many things
appearing to us liable to great objections; in case we
judge of it otherwise, than by the analogy of nature.
And therefore, though objections against the evidence
of Christianity are most seriously to be considered; yet
objections against Christianity itself are, in a great measure, frivolous: almost all objections against it, excepting those which are alleged against the particular proofs
of its coming from God.  I express myself with caution,
lest I should be mistaken to vilify reason; which is
indeed the only faculty we have wherewith to judge
concerning any thing, even revelation itself: or be misunderstood to assert, that a supposed revelation cannot
be proved false, from internal characters. For, it may
contain clear immoralities or contradictions; and either
of these would prove it false.  Nor will I take upon me
to affirm, that nothing else can possibly render any supposed revelation incredible. Yet still the observation
above, is, I think, true beyond doubt; that objections
against Christianity, as distinguished from objections
against its evidence, are frivolous. To make out this,
is the general design of the present Chapter. And with
regard to the whole of it, I cannot but particularly wish,
that the proofs might be attended to; rather than the
assertions cavilled at, upon account of any unacceptable
consequenlces, whether real or supposed, which may be
drawn from them. For, after all, that which is true,
must be admitted, though it should show us the shortness of our faculties; and that we are in no wise jud?.s




Cur. I1.1     LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS.           189
of many things, of which we are apt to think ourselves
very competent ones. Nor will this be any objection
with reasonable men, at least upon second thought it
will not be any objection with such, against the justness
of the following observations.
As God governs the world and instructs his creatures, according to certain laws or rules, in the known
course of nature; known by reason together with experience: so the Scripture informs us of a scheme of
divine Providence, additional to this. It relates, that
God has, by revelation, instructed men in things concerning his government, which they could not otherwise
have known; and reminded them  of things, which
they might otherwise know; and attested the truth of
the whole by miracles. Now if the natural and the revealed dispensation of things are both from God, if they
coincide with each other, and together make up one
scheme of Providence; our being incompetent judges of
one, must render it credible, that we may, be incompetent judges also of the other. Since, upon experience,
the acknowledged constitution and course of nature is
found to be greatly different from what, before experi.ence, would have been expected; and such as, men
fancy, there lie great objections against: this renders it
beforehand highly credible, that they may find the revealed dispensation likewise, if they judge of it as thev
do of the constitution of nature, very different from
expectations formed beforehand; and liable, in appearfance, to great objections: objections against the scheme
itself, and against the degrees and manners of the miraculous interpositions, by which it was attested and carried
on. Thus, suppose a prince to govern his dominions
in the wisest manner possible, by common known laws;
and that upon some exigencies he should suspend these
laws; and govern, in several instances, in a different
manner; if one of his subjects were not a competent
judgo beforehand, by what common rules the government
should or would be carried on; it could not be expected,
that the same person would bhe a competent judge, in
what exigencies, or in what manner, or to what degree,
those laws commonly observed would be suspended or




190       THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATION.    [PFt a.
deviated from. If he were not a judge of the wisdom of
the ordinary administration, there is no reason to think
he would be a judge of the wisdom of the extraordinary.
If he thought he had objections against the former;
doubtless, it is highly supposable, he might think also,
that he had objections against the latter.  And thus, as
we fall into infinite follies and mistakes, whenever we
pretend, otherwise than from experience and analogy, to
judge of the constitution and course of nature; it is evidently supposable beforehand, that we should fall into as
great, in pretending to judge, in like manner, concerning
revelation. Nor is there any more ground to expect
ithat this latter should appear to us clear' of objections,
than that t. e former should.
Thiese observations, relating to the whole of Christianity, are applicable to inspiration in particular.  As
we are in no sort judges beforehand, by what lawe or
rules, in w hat degree, or by what means, it were to
have been expected, that God would naturally instruct
us; so upon supposition of his affording us light and
instruction by revelation, additional to what he has
afforded us by reason and experience, we are in no sort
judges, by what methods, and in what proportion, it
were to be expected that this supernatural light and
instruction would be afforded us. We know not beforehand, what degree or kind of natural information it were
to be expected God would afford men, each by his own
reason and experience: nor how far he would enable
and effectually dispose them to communicate it, whatever it should be, to each other; nor whether the evidence
of it would be certain, highly probable, or doubtful; nor
whether it "Would be given with equal clearness and
conviction to all.  Nor could we guess, upon any
good ground I mean, whether natural knowledge, or
even the faculty itself, by which we are capable o"
attaining it, reason, would be given us at once, or gradually.  In like manner, we are wholly ignorant, what
degree of new knowledge, it were to be expected
God would give mankind by revelation, upon supposition of his affording one: or how far, or in what way
he would interpose miraculously, to qualify them, tc




(NAP. I11.]   LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS.           I'!,
whomn lhe should originally make the revelation, for
communicating the knowledge given by it; and to
secure their doing it to the age -in which they should live;
and to secure its being transmitted to posterity. We
are equally ignorant, whether the evidence of it would
be certain or highly probable, or doubtful:* or whether
all who should have any degree of instruction from it,
and any degree of evidence of its truth, would have the
same: or whether the scheme would be revealed at once,
or unfolded gradually. Nay we are not in any sort able
to judge, whether it were to have been expected, that
the revelation should have been committed to writing; or
left to be handed.down, and consequently corrupted, by
verbal tradition, and at length sunk under i:, if mankind
so pleased, and during such time as they aIe permitted,
in the degree they evidently are, to act as they will.
But it may be said, "that a revelation in some of the
above mentioned circumstances, one, for instance, which
was not committed to writing, and thus secured against
danger of corruption, would not have answered its purpose." I ask, what purpose P It would not have answered
all the purposes, which it has now answered, and in the
same degree: but it would have answered others, or
the same in different degrees. And which of these were
the purposes of God, and best fell in with his general
government, we could not at all have determined beforehand.
Now since it has been shown, that we have no principles of reason, upon which to judge beforehand, how it
were to be expected revelation should have been left, or
wPat was most suitable to the divine plan of government,
ill any of the forementioned respects; it must be quite
frivolous to object afterward as to any of them, against
its being left in one way, rather than another: for this
would be to object against things, upon account of their
being different from expectations, which have been shown
to be without reason. And thus we see, that the only
question concerning the truth of Christianity is, whether
it be a real revelation; not whether it be attended with
every circumstance which we should have looked for:
* See Chap. vi.




192       THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATION       [PA,?T ML
and concerning the authority of Scripture, whether it
be what it claims to be; not whether it be a book of
such sort, and so promulged, as weak men are apt to
fancy a book containing a divine revelation should. And
therefore, neither obscurity, nor seeming inaccuracy of
style, nor various readings, nor early disputes about
the authors of particular parts; nor any other things of
the like kind, though they had been much more considerable in degree than they are, could overthrow the
authority of the Scripture: uniless the Prophets, Apostles,
or our Lord, had promised, that the book containing the
divine revelation should be secure from those things.
Nor indeed can any objections overthrow such a kind of
revelation as the Christian claims to be, since there are
no objections against the morality of it,* but such as call
show, that there is no proof of miracles wrought origi
tially in attestation of it; no appearance of any thing
miraculous in its obtaining in the world; nor any of prophecy, that is, of events foretold, which iuman sagacity
could not foresee.  If it can be shown, that the proof
alleged for all these is absolutely none at all, then is revelation overturned.  But were it allowed, that the proof
of any one or all of them is lower than is allowed; yet,
whilst any proof of them remains, revelation will stand
upon much the same foot it does at present, as to all the
purposes of life and practice, and ought to have the like,
influence upon our behaviour.
From the foregoing observations too, it will follow, and
those who will thoroughly examine into revelation will
find it worth remarking; that there are several ways or
arguing, which, though just with regard to other writings,
are not applicable to Scripture: at least not to the prophetic parts of it.  We cannot argue, for instance, that
this cannot be the sense or intent of such a passage of
Scripture; for, if it had, it would have been expressed
mnore plainly, or have been represented under a more
apt figure or hieroglyphic: yet we may justly argue thus,
with respect to common books.  And the reason of this
diff'erence is very evident; that in Scripture we are not
competent judges, as we are in common books, how
* P. 198.




,A,. III.]    LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS.            193
plainly it were to have been expected, what is the true
sense should have been expressed, or under how apt an
image figured. The only question is, what appearance
there is, that this is the sense; and scarce at all, how
nllch more determinately or accurately it might have
been expressed or figured.
" But is it not self-evident, that internal improbabilities
of all kinds weaken external probable proof?" Doubtless.
But to what practical purpose can this be alleged here,
when it has been proved before,* that real internal improbabilities, which rise even to moral certainty, are
overcome by the most ordinary testimony; and when it
now has been made appear, that we scarce know what
are improbabilities, as to the matter we are here considering: as it will further appear from what follows.
For though from the observations above made it is
manifest, that we are not in any sort competent judges,
what supernatural instruction were to have been expected;
and though it is self-evident, that the objections of an
incompetent judgment must be frivolous; yet it may be
proper to go one step further, and observe; that if men
will be regardless of these things, and pretend to judge
of the Scripture by preconceived expectations; the analogy of nature shows beforehand, not only that it is highly
credible they may, but also probable that they will, imagine they have strong objections against it, however
really unexceptionable: for so, prior to experience, they
would think they had, against the circumstances, and
degrees, and the whole manner of that instruction, which
is afforded by the ordinary course of nature.  Were the
instruction which God affords to brute creatures by instincts and mere propensions, and to mankind by these
together with reason, matter of probable proof, and not
of certain observation; it would be rejected as incredible,
in many instances of it, only upon account of the means
by which this instruction is given, the seeming disproportions, the limitations, necessary conditions, and circumstances of it. For instance: would it not have been
thought highly improbable, that men should have been
so much more capable of discovering, even to celrtainty
*P. 184.
N




194      THE CREDIBILITY OF JEVELATION      [IPArT 11.
the general laws of matter, and the magnitudes, paths,
and revolutions, of heavenly bodies; than the occasions
and cures of distempers, and many other things, in which
human life seems so much more nearly concerned, than
in astronomy? How capricious and irregular a way of
information would it be said, is that of invention, by means
of which nature instructs us in matters of science, and in
many things, upon which the affairs of the world greatly
depend: that a man should, by this faculty, be made acquainted with a thing in an instant, when perhaps he is
thinking of somewhat else, which he has in vain been
searching after, it may be, for years. So likewise the
imperfections attending the only method, by which nature
enables and directs us to communicate our thoughts to
each other, are innumerable. Language is, in its very
nature, inadequate, ambiguous, liable to infinite abuse,
even from negligence; and so liable to it from design,
that every man can deceive and betray by it. And, to
mention but one instance more; that brutes, without
reason, should act, in many respects, with a sagacity and
foresight vastly greater than what men have in those respects, would be thought impossible. Yet it is certain
they do act with such superior foresight: whether it be
their own, indeed, is another question. From these things,
it is highly credible beforehand, that upon supposition
God should afford men some additional instruction by
revelation, it would be with circumstances, in manners,
degrees, and respects, which we should be apt to fancy
we had great objections against the credibility of. Nor
are the objections against the Scripture, nor against
Christianity in general, at all more or greater, than the
analogy of nature would beforehand-not perhaps give
ground to expect; for this analogy may not be sufficient,
in some cases, to ground an expectation upon; but no
more nor greater, than analogy would show it, beforehand, to be supposable and credible, that there might
seem to lie against revelation.
By applying these general observations to a particular
objection, it will be more distinctly seen, how they are
applicable to others of the like kind: and indeed to
alnost all objections against Chnristianity, as distinguish




cQ.s,   LIABLE TO OBTECTIONS.                  195
fromn objections against its evidence.  It appears from
Scripture, that, as it was not unusual in the. postolic age,
for persons, upon their conversion to Christianity, to be
endued with miraculous gifts; so, some of those persons
exercised these gifts in a strangely irregular and disorderly manner; and this is made an objection against
their being really miraculous. Now the foregoing observations quite remove this objection, how considerable
soever it may appear at first sight. For, consider a
person endued with any of these gifts; for instance, that
of tongues: it is to be supposed, that he had the same
power over this miraculous gift, as he would have had
over it, had it been the effect of habit, of study and use,
as it ordinarily is; or the same power over it, as he had
over any other natural endowment. Consequently, he
would use it in the same manner he did any other; either
regularly, and upon proper occasions only, or irregularly,
and upon improper ones: according to his sense of decency, and his character of prudence. Where then is the
objection? Why, if this miraculous power was indeed
given to the world to propagate Christianity, and attest the
truth of it, we might, it seems, have expected, that other
sort of persons should have been chosen to be invested
with it; or that these should, at the same time, have beer.
endued with prudence; or that they should have been continually restrained and directed in the exercise of it: i. e.
that God should have miraculously interposed, if at all,
in a different manner, or higher degree. But, from the
observations made above, it is undeniably evident, that
we are not judges in what degrees and manners it were
to have been expected he should miraculously interpose;
upon supposition of his doing it in some degree and
manner. Nor, in the natural course of Providence, are
superior gifts of memory, eloquence, knowledge, and
other talents of great influence, conferred only on persons of prudence and decency, or such as are disposed
to make the properest use of them. Nor is the instruction and admonition naturally afforded us for the conduct
of life, particularly in our education, commonly given in a
manner the most suited to recommend it; but often with
circumstances apt to prejudice us against such instruction.
2




196       THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATION    [PARX IL
One might go on to add, that there is a great resemblance between the light of nature and of revelation, in
several other respects.  Practical Christianity, or that
faith and behaviour which fenders a map a Christian, is
a plain and obvious thing: like the ci amon rules oi
conduct, with respect to our ordinary Temporal affairs.
The more distinct and particular knowledge of those
things, the study of which the Apostle calls going on unto
perfjction,* and of the prophetic parts of revelation,
like many parts of natural and even civil knowledge,
may require very exact thought, and careful consideration. The hinderances too, of natural, and of supernatural light and knowledge, have been of the same kind.
And as it is owned the whole scheme of Scripture is
not yet understood; so, if it ever comes to be understood, before the restitution of all things,t and without
miraculous interpositions; it must be in the same way
as natural knowledge is come at: by the continuance
and progress of learning and of liberty; and by particular persons attending to, comparing, and pursuing,
intimations scattered up and down it, which are overlooked and disregarded by the generality of the world.
For this is the way, in which all improvements are
made; by thoughtful men's tracing on obscure hints, as
it were, dropped us by nature accidentally, or which
seem to come into our minds by chance. Nor is it at
all incredible, that a book, which has been. so long in
the possession of mankind, should contain many truths
as yet undiscovered.  For, all the same phenomena,
and the same faculties of investigation, from which such
great discoveries in natural knowledge have been made
in the present and last age, were equally in the possession of mankind, several thousand years before. And
possibly it might be intended, that events, as they come
to pass, should open and ascertain the meaning of several parts of Scripture.
It may be objected, that this analogy fails in a material respect: for that natural knowledge is of little or no
consequence. But I have been speaking of the general
imatruction which nature does or does not afford us.
* Heb. vi. 1.      + Acts iii. 21.




-r. IlL.]      LITABLE TO OBJECTIONS.           197
And besides, some parts of natural knowledge, in the
more common restrained sense of the words, are of the
greatest consequence to the ease and convenience of
fe.  But suppose the analogy did, as it does not, fail
in this respect; yet it might be abundantly supplied,
from the whole constitution and course of natwire: which
shows, that God does not dispense his gifts according to
our notions of the advantage and consequence they
would be of to us.  And this in general, with his
method of dispensing knowledge in particular, would
together make out an analogy full to the point before us.
But it may be objected still further and more generally; " The Scripture represents the world as in a state
of ruin, and Christianity as an expedient to recover it,
to help in these respects where nature fails: in particular, to supply the deficiencies of natural light.  Is it
credible then, that so many ages should have been let
pass, before a matter of such a sort, of so great and so
general importance, was made known to mankind; and
then that it should be made known to so small a part of
them? Is it conceivable, that this supply should be so
very deficient, should have the like obscurity and doubtfulness, be liable to the like perversions, in short, lie
open to all the like objections, as the light of nature
itself?* Without determining how far this, in fact, is
so, I answer; it is by no means incredible, that it might
be so, if the light of nature and of revelation be from
the same hand. Men are naturally liable to diseases:
for which God, in his good providence, has provided
natural remedies.t  But remedies existing in nature
have be(en unknown to manikind for many ages: are
known but to few now: probably many valuable ones
aie not known yet. Great has been and is the obscurity and difficulty, in the nature and application of them.
Circumstances seem often to make them very improper,
where they are absolutely. necessary.  It is after long
labour and study, and many unsuccessful endeavours,
that they are brought to be as useful as they are; after
high contempt and absolute rejection of the most useful
we have; and after disputes and doubts, which have
* CIL vi.              f COh. v.




198       THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATION      [par n.
seemed to be endless. The best'remedies too, wher
unskilfully, much more if dishonestly applied, may produce new diseases; and with the rightest application
the success of them is often doubtful. In many cases
they are not at all effectual: where they are, it is often
very slowly: and the application of them, and the necessary regimen accompanying it, is, not uncommonly, so
disagreeable, that some will not submit to them; and
satisfy themselves with the excuse, that, if they would,
it is not certain whether it would be successful. And
many persons, who labour under diseases, for which
there are known natural remedies, are not so happy as
to be always, if ever, in the way of them. In a word,
the remedies which nature has provided for diseases are
neither certain, perfect, nor universal. And indaed the
same principles of arguing, which would lead us to conclude, that they must be so, would lead us likewise to
conclude, that there could be no occasion for them; i. e.
that there could be no diseases at all. And therefore
our experience that there are diseases shows, that it is
credible beforehand, upon supposition nature has provided remedies for them, that these remedies may be,
as by experience we find they are, not certain, nor perfect, nor universal; because it shows, that the principles upon which we should expect the contrary are
fallacious.
And now, what is the just consequence from all these
things? Not that reason is no judge of what is offered to
us as being of divine revelation.  For this would be to
infer that we are unable to judge of any thing, because
we are unable to judge of all things. Reason can, and
it ought to judge, not only of the meaning, but also of
the morality and the evidence of revelation. First, It is
the province of reason to judge of the morality of the
Scripture; i. e. not whether it contains things different
from what we should have expected from a wise, just,
and good Being; for objections from hence have been
now obviated: but whether it contains things plainly
contradictory to wisdom, justice, or goodness; to what the
light of nature teaches us of God. And I know nothing
of this sort objected against Scripture, excepting such ob.




CHAP. II.]      LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS            199
jections as are formed upon suppositions, whic I would
equally conclude, that the constitution otf nature is contradictory to wisdom, justice or goodness; which most
certainly it is not.  Indeed there are some particular
precepts in Scripture, given to particular persons, requiring actions, which would be immoral and vicious,
were it not for such precepts.  But it is easy to see, that
all these are of such a kind, as that the precept changes
the whole nature of the case and of the action; and both
constitutes and shows that not to be unjust or immoral,
which, prior to the precept, must have appeared and
really have been so: which may well be, since none of
these precepts are contrary to immutable morality.  If
it were commanded, to cultivate the principles, and act
from the spirit of treachery, ingratitude, crueltv; the
command would not alter the nature of the case or of
the action, in any of these instances.  But it is quite
otherwise in precepts, which require only the doing an
external action: for instance, taking away the property,
or life of any. For men have no right to either life or
property, but what arises solely from the grant of God:
when this grant is revoked, they cease to have any right
at all in either: and when this revocation is made known,
as surely it is possible it may be, it must cease to be
unjust to deprive them ofeither. And though a course
of external acts, which without command would be immoral, must make an immoral habit; yet a few detached
commands have no such natural tendency. I thought
proper to say thus much of the few Scripture precepts,
which require, not vicious actions, but actions which
would have been vicious, had it not been for such precepts; because they are sometimes weakly urged as
immoral, and great weight is laid upon objections drawn
from them. But to me there seems no difficulty at all
in these precepts, but what arises from their being offences: i. e. fiom their being liable to be perverted, as
indeed they are, by wicked designing men, to serve the
most horrid purposes; and, perhaps, to mislead the weak
and enthusiastic.  And ohiections from this head are nriot
objections against revelation; but against the wllhole
notion of religion, as a trial: and against the general




20C     THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATION, &C.   [PART II.
constitution of nature. Secondly, Reason is able to judge,
ard must, of the evidence of revelation, and of the objections urged against that evidence: which shall be the
subject of a following Chapter.*
But the consequence of the foregoing observations is,
that the question upon which the truth of Christianity
depends is scarce at all, what objections there are against
its scheme, since there are none against the morality of
it; but what objections there are against its evidence; or,
what proof there remains of it, after due allowances made
for the objections against that proof: because it has been
shown, that the objections against Christianity, as distin-!guished from objections against its evidence, are frivolous.
For surely very little weight, if any at all, is to be laid
upon a way of arguing and objecting, which, when applied to the general constitution of nature, experience
shows not to be conclusive: and such, I think, is the
whole way of objecting treated of throughout this Chapter. It is resolvable into principles, and goes upon suppositions, which mislead us to think, that the Author of
Nature would not act, as we experience'he does; or
would act, in such and'such cases, as we experience he
does not in like cases. But the unreasonableness of
this way of objecting will appear yet more evidently from
hence, that the chief things thus objected against are
justified, as shall be further shown,t by distinct, particular, and full analogies, in the constitution and course of
nature.
But it is to be remembered, that, as frivolous as objections of the foregoing sort against revelation are, yet,
when a supposed revelation is more consistent with itself,
and has a more general and uniform tendency to promote virtue, than, all circumstances considered, could
have been expected from enthusiasm and political views;
this is a presumptive proof of its not proceeding from
them, and so of its truth: because we are competent
judges, what might have been expected from enthusiasm
and political views.
* (!ap. viiL'It Ch. iv. latter part, and v. vi




Cleu. IV.1    CHRISTIANITY A SCHEME, ETC.       201
CHAP. IV,
OF CHRISTIANITY. CONSIDERED AS A SCHEME OR CONSTITUTION, IMPERFECTLY COMPREHENDED.
IT hath been now shown,* that the analogy of nature
renders it highly credible beforehand, that, supposing a
revelation to be made, it must contain many things very
different from what we should have expected, and such
as appear open to great objections: and that this observation, in good measure, takes off the force of those objections, or rather precludes them. But it may be alleged,
that this is a very partial answer to such objections, or a
very unsatisfactory way of obviating them: because it
doth not show at all, that the things objected against can
be wise, just, and good; much less, that it is credible
they are so.  It will therefore be proper to show this
distinctly; by applying to these objections against the
wisdom, justice, and goodness of Christianity, the answer
abovet given to the like objections against the constitution of Nature: before we consider the particular analogies in the latter, to the particular things objected against
in the former. Now that which affords a sufficient
answer to objections against the wisdom, justice, and
goodness of the constitution of Nature, is its being a constitution, a system, or scheme, imperfectly comprehended;
a scheme in which means are made use of to accomplish
ends; and which is carried on by general laws. For
from these things it has been proved, not only to be
possible, but also to be credible, that those things which
are objected against may be consistent with wisdom,
justice, and goodness; nay, may be instances of them:
and even that the constitution and government of Nature
may be perfect in the highest possible degree. If Christianity then be a scheme, and of the like kind; it is evident, the like objections against it must admit of the like
answer. And,
* In the foregoing Chapter.
t Part L Ch. vii. to which this all along refd




0ot            CHRISTIANITY A SCHEME            [PART 11
I. Christianity is a scheme, quite beyond our comprehension.  The moral government of God is exercised,
by gradually conducting things so in the course of his
providence, that every one, at length and upon the
whole, shall receive according to his deserts; and neither
fraud nor violence, but truth and right, shall finally prevail.  Christianity is a particular scheme under this general plan of Providence, and a part of it, conducive to
its completion, with regard to mankind: consisting itself
also of various parts, and a mysterious economy, which
has been carrying on from the time the world came into
its present wretched state, and is still carrying on, for its
recovery, by a divine person, the Messiah; who is to
gather together in one the children of God, that are scattered abroad,* and establish an everlasting kingdom, wherein
dwelleth righteousness.t  And in order to it; after various
manifestations of things, relating to this great and general scheme of Providence, through a succession of many
ages: (For the Spirit of Christ which was in the prophets,
testified beforehand his sufferings, and the glory that should
fobllow: unto whom it was:revealed, that not unto themselves,
but unto us they did minister the things wh.ich are now reported unto us by them that have preached the Gospel;
which things the angels desire to look into:$ )-after various
dispensations looking forward and preparatory to, this
final salvation: in the Jilness of time, when infinite wisdom thought fit; He, being in the form of God,-made
himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a
servant, and was made in the likeness of men: and being
found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became
obedient to death., even the death of the cross: wherefore
God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name,
which is above every name: that at the name of Jesus every
knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in the
earth, and things under the earth: and that every tongue
should confess, that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory oJ
God the Father.~  Parts likewise of this economy are the
miraculous mission of the Holy Ghost, and his ordinary
assistances given to good men: the invisible government,
which Christ at present exercises over his church: that
* John xi. 52.    f 2 Pet. iii. 13.   1 Pet. i. 11, 12.    6 Phl IL




A. IV.]    IMPERFECTLY COMPREHENDED.              203'which he himself refers to in these words; In my Father's
house are many mansions-I go to prepare z place for
you:* and his future return to judge the world in righteousness, and completely re-establish the kingdom of
Glod.  For the Father judgeth no man; but hath committed
all judgment unto the Son: that all men should honour the
Son, even as they honour the Father. t  All power is given
unto him in heaven and in earth.t  And hle must reign, till
he hath put all enemies under his feet.  Then cometh the
end, when he shall have delivered up the kingdom to God,
even the Father; when he shall have put down all rule, and
all authority and power. And when all things shall be
subdued unto him, then shall the Son also himself be subject unto him that put all things under him, that God may
be all in all.~ Now little, surely, need be said to show,
that this system, or scheme of things, is but imperfectly
comprehended by us.  The Scripture expressly asserts it
to be so. Ard indeed one cannot read a passage relating to this great mystery of godliness,ll but what imrnediately runs up into something which shows us our ignorance in it; as every thing in nature shows us our ignorance in the constitution of nature.  And whoever will
seriously consider that part of the Christian scheme,
which is revealed in Scripture, will find so much more
unrevealed, as will convince him, that, to all the pur.
poses of judging and objecting, we know as little of it, as
of the constitution of nature. Our ignorance, therefore,
is as much an answer to our objections against the perfection of one, as against the perfection of the other.~
II. It is obvious too, that in the Christian dispensation, as much as in the natural scheme of things,
means are made use of to accomplish ends. And the
observation of this furnishes us with the same answer,
to objections against the perfection of Christianity, as to
objections of the like kind, against the constitution of
nature.  It shows the credibility, that the things objected against, how foolish** soever they appear to men,
may be the very best means of accomplishing the very
best ends. And their appearing foolishness is no pre.
* John xiv. 2. 2.   John v. 22, 23.:  Matth. xxviii. 18.
l 1 Tim. iii. 16.  ~ P. 153, &c.  ** I Ccr. 




204          CHRISTIANITY A SCHEME           p'Py IL
sumption against this, in a scheme so greatly beyond
our comprehension.*
III. The credibility, that the Christian dispensation
may have been, all along, carried on by general laws,t
no less than the course of nature, may require to be
more distinctly made out. Consider then, upon what
ground it is we say, that the whole common course of
nature is carried on according to general fore.-ordained
laws.  We know indeed several of the general laws of
matter: and a great part of the natural behaviour of living agents is reducible to general laws. But we know
in'a manner nothing, by what laws, storms and ternpests, earthquakes, famine, pestilence, become the
instruments of destruction to mankind. And the laws,
by which persons born into the world at such a time
and place are of such capacities, geniuses, tempers; the
laws, by which thoughts come into our mind, in a multitude of cases; and by which innumerable things happen, of the greatest influence upon the affairs and state
of the world; these laws are so wholly unknown to us,
that we call the events, which come to pass by them,
accidental: though all reasonable men know certainly,
that there cannot, in reality, be any such thing as chance;
and conclude, that the things which have this appearance are the result of general laws, and may be reduced
into them. It is then but an exceeding little way, and
in but a very few respects, that we can trace up the nlatural course of things before us, to general laws. And
it is only from analogy, that we conclude the whole of it
to be capable of being reduced into them: only from
our seeing, that part is so. It is from our finding, that
the course of nature, in some respects and so far, goes
on by general laws, that we conclude this of the rest.
And if that be a just ground for such a conclusion, it is
a just ground also, if not to conclude, yet to apprehend,
to render it supposable and credible, which is sufficient
for answering objections, that God's miraculous interpositions may have been, all along in like manner, by
general laws of wisdom. Thus, that miraculous powers
should be exerted, at such times, upon such occasions,
* P. 156, 157.  + P. 15, lSg.




CnAr. IV.]   IMPERFECTLY COMPREHENDED.         205
in such degrees and manners, and with regard to such
persons, rather than others; that the affairs of the world,
being permitted to go on in their natural course so far,
should, just at such a point, have a new direction given
them by miraculous interpositions; that these interpositions should be exactly in such degrees and respects
only; all this may have been by general laws. These
laws are unknown indeed to us: but no more unknown
than the laws from whence it is, that some die as soon
as they are born, and others live to extrewr   old age;
that one man is so superior to another in understanding;
with innumerable more things, which, as was before
observed, we cannot reduce to any laws or rules at all,
though it is taken for granted, they are as much reducible to general ones, as gravitation. Now, if the' revealed
dispensations of Providence, and miraculous interpositions, be by general laws, as well as God's ordinary
government in the course of nature, made known by
reason and experience; there is no more reason to
expect that every exigence, as it arises, should be provided for by these general laws or miraculous interpositions, than that every exigence in nature should, by the
general laws of nature: yet there' might be wise and
good reasons, that miraculous interpositions should be
by general laws; and that these laws should not be
broken in upon, or deviated from, by other miracles
Upon the whole, then, the appearance of deficiencies
and irregularities in nature is owing to its being a scheme
but in part made known, and of such a certain particular
kind in other respects. Now we see no more reason
why the frame and course of nature should be such a
scheme, than why Christianity should. And that the
former is such a scheme, renders it credible, that the
latter, upon supposition of its truth, may be so too.
And as it is manifest, that Christianity is a scheme
revealed but in part, and a scheme in which means are
niade use of to accomplish ends, like to that of nature:
so the credibility, that it may have been all along carried
on by general laws, no less than the course of nature,
has beer distinctly proved. And from  all this it i6
beforehand credible that there might, I think probable




206           CHRISTIANITY A SCHEME          [PARt n.I
that there would, be the like appearance of deficiencies
and irregularities in Christianity, as in nature: i. e. that
Christianity would be liable to the like objections, as
the frame of nature. And these objections are answered
by these observations concerning Christianity; as the
like objections against the frame of nature are answered
by the like observations concerning the frame of nature.
The objections against Christianity, considered as a
matter of fact,* having, in general, been obviated in the
preceding Chapter; and the same, considered as made
against the wisdom and goodness of it, having been
obviated in this: the next thing, according to the method
proposed, is to show, that the principal objections, in
particular, against Christianity, may be answered, by
particular and full analogies in nature.  And as one of
them is made against the whole scheme of it together,
as just now described, I choose to consider it here,
rather than in a distinct Chapter by itself. The thing
objected against this scheme of the Gospel is, "that it
seems to suppose God was reduced to the necessity of a'ong series of intricate means, in order to accomplish his
ends, the recovery and salvation of the world: in like
sort as men, for want of understanding or power, not
being able to come at their ends directly, are forced to
go round-about ways, and make use of many perplexed
contrivances to arrive at them." Now every thing which
we see shows the folly of this, considered as an objection
against the truth of Christianity.  For, according to our
manner of conception, God makes use of variety'of
means, what we often think tedious ones, in the natural
course of providence, for the accomplishment of all
his ends.  Indeed it is certain there is somewhat in
this matter quite beyond our comprehension: but the
mystery is as great in nature as in Christianity.  WTe
know what we ourselves aim at, as final ends: and what
courses we take, merely as means conducing to those
ends. But we are greatly ignorant how far things are
considered by the Author of Nature, under the single
notion of means and ends; so as that it may be said,
* P 149, &e.




CW,o. vi.'.]   IMPEItFECT'LY COMPREHENDED.      207
thlis is inerely an end, and that merely  nceans, in his
regard.  And whether there be not some peculiar absurdity in our very manner of conception, concerning this
matter, somewhat contradictory arising from our extremely imperfect views of things, it is impossible to
say. I-Iowever, thus much is manifest, that the whole
naturai world and government of it is a scheme or system; not a fixed, but a progressive one: a scheme in
which the operation of various means takes up a great
length of time, before the ends they cend to can be
attained. The change of seasons, the ripening of the
fruits of the earth, the very history of a flower, is an
instance of this: and so is human life.  Thus vegetable
bodies, and those of animals, though possibly formed at
once, yet grow up by degrees to a mature state.  And
thus rational agents, who animate these latter bodies, are
naturally directed to form each his own manners and
character, by the gradual gaining of knowledge and ex-.
pIerience, and by a long course of action.  Our existence
is not only successive, as it must be of necessity; but
one state of our life and being is appointed by God, to
be a preparation for another; and that to be the means
of attaining to another succeeding one: infancy to childhood; childhood to youth; youth to mature age. Men
are impatient, and for precipitating things: but the
Author of Nature appears deliberate throughout his operations; accomplishing his natural ends by slow successive
steps. And there is a plan of things beforehand laid
out, which, from the nature of it, requires various sys
tems of means, as well as length of time, in order to the
carrying on its several parts into execution. Thus, in
the daily course of natural providence, God operates in
the very same manner, as in the dispensation of Christianity; making one thing subservient to another; this,
to somewhat further; and soon, through a' progressive
series of means, which extend, both backward and forward, beyond our utmost view. Of this manner of
operation, every thing we see in the course of nature is
as much an instance, as any part of the Christian
dispensation.




208            THE APPOINTMENT OFQ, I.
CHAP. V.
OF THE PARTICULAR SYSTEM OF CHRISTIANITY; THE
APPOINTMENT OF A MEDIATOR, AND THE REDEMPTION
OF THE WORLD BY HIM.
THERE is not, I think, any thing relating to Christianity, which has been more objected against, than the
mediation of Christ, in some or other of its parts.  Yet
upon thorough consideration, there seems nothing less
justly liable to it. For,
I. The whole analogy of nature removes all imagined
presumption against the general notion of a Mediator
between God and man.*  For we find all living creatures
are brought into the world, and their life in infancy is
preserved, by the instrumentality of others: and every
satisfaction of it, some way or other, is bestowed by the
like means.  So that the visible government, which God
exercises over the world, is by the instrumentality and
mnediation of others. And how far his invisible government be or be not so, it is impossible to determine at all
by reason.  And the supposition, that part of it is so,
appears, to say the least, altogether as credible, as the
contrary.  There is then no sort of objection, from the
light of nature, against the general notion of a mediator
between God and man, considered as a doctrine of
Christianity, or as an appointment in this dispensation:
since we find by experience, that God does appoint mediators, to be the instruments of good and evil to us: the
instruments of his justice and his mercy. And the objection here referred to is urged, not against mediation
in that high, eminent, and peculiar sense, in which Chlrist
is our imlediator; but absolutely against the whole notion
itself of a mediator at all.
I. As we must suppose, that the world is under the
proper moral government of God, or in -a state of religion,
obf-tre we can enter into consideration of the revealed
doctrine. concerning the redemption of it by Christ: so
* 1 Tim. ii. 5.




NA'r. V.]   A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER.           209
that supposition is here to be distinctly taken notice of.
Now the divine moral government which religion teaches
us, implies, that the consequence of vice shall be misery,
in some future state, by the righteous judgment of God.
That such consequent punishment shall take effect by his
appointment, is necessarily implied. But, as it is not in
any sort to be supposed, that we are made acquainted
with all the ends or reasons, for which it is fit future
punishments should be inflicted, or why God has appointed such and such consequent misery should follow
vice; and as we are altogether in the dark, how or in
what manner it shall follow, by what immediate occasions, or by the instrumentality of what means; there is
no absurdity in supposing it may follow in a way analogous to that, in which many miseries follow such and
such courses of action at present; poverty, sickness, in
fatily, untimely death by diseases, death from the hands
of' civil justice. There is no absurdity in supposing
future punishment may follow wickedness of course, as
we speak, or in the way of natural consequence from
God's original constitution of the world: from the nature
he has given us, and from the condition in which he
places us; or in a like manner, as a person rashly trifling
upon a precipice, in the way of natural consequence, falls
down; in the way of natural consequence, breaks his
limbs, suppose; in the way of natural consequence of
this, without help, perishes.
Some good men may perhaps be offended with hear.
ing it spoken of as a supposable thing that future punishments of wickedness may be in the way of natural consequence: as if this were taking the execution of justice
out of the hands of God, and giving it to nature. But
they should remember, that when things come to pass
according to the course of nature, this does not hinder
them from being his doing, who is the God of nature:
and that the Scripture ascribes those punishments to
divine justice, which are known to be natural; and which
must be called so, when distinguished from such as are
miraculous.  But after all, this supposition, or rather
this way of speaking, is here made use of only by way of
illustration of the subject before us.. For since it must




210            THE APPOINTM{NT OF             t~AT Ir
be admitted, that the future punishment of wickedness is
not a matter of arbitrary appointment, but of reason,
equity, and justice; it comes, for ought I see, to the same
thing, whether it is supposed to be inflicted in a way
analogous to that, in which the temporal punishments of
vice and folly are inflicted, or in any other way. And
though there were a difference, it is allowable, in the
present case, to make this supposition, plainly not an incredible one; that future punishment may follow wickedness in the way of natural consequence, or according to
some general laws of government already established in
the universe.
III. Upon this supposition, or even without it, we
may observe somewhat, much to the present purpose, in
the constitution of nature or appointments of Providence.
the provision which is made, that all the bad natural
consequences of men's actions should not always actually
follow; or that such bad consequences, as, according to
the settled course of things, would inevitably have followed if not prevented, should, in certain degrees, be
prevented. We are apt presumptuously to imagine,
that the world might have been so constituted, as that
there would not have been any such thing as m;sery or
evil.  On the contrary we find the Author of Nature
permits it: but then he has provided reliefs, and in many
cases perfect remedies for it, after some pains and difficulties; reliefs and remedies even for that evil, wHith is
the fruit of our own misconduct; and which, in the
course of nature, would have continued, and ended in
our.destruction, but for such remedies. And this is an
instance both of severity and of indulgence, in the constitution of nature.  Thus all the bad consequences, now
mentioned, of a man's trifling upon a precipice, might
be prevented. And though all were not, yet some of
them might, by proper interposition, if not rejected: by
another's coming to the rash man's relief, with his cwn
laying hold on that relief, in such sort as the case'equired. Persons may do a great deal themselves towardls
preventing the bad consequences of their follies: and
more may be done by themselves, together with thle
assistance of others their fellow creatures; which assist



Cash. V.]   A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER.            211
ance nature requires and prompts us to. This is the
general constitution of the world. Now suppose it had
been so constituted, that after such actions were done, as
were foreseen naturally to draw after them misery to the
doer, it should have been no more in human power to
have prevented that naturally consequent misery, in any
instance, than it is in all: no one can say, whether such
a more severe constitution of things might not yet have
been really good.  But, that, on the contrary, provision
is made by nature, that we may and do,. to so grCat degree, prevent the bad natural effects of our follies; this
may be called mercy or compassion in the original constitution of the world: compassion, as distinguished from
goodness in general. And, the whole known constitution and course of things affording us instances of such
compassion, it would be according to the analogy of nature, to hope, that, however ruinous the natural consequences of vice might be, from'the general laws of God's
government over the universe; yet provision might be
made, possibly might have been originally made, foi
preventing those ruinous consequences from inevitably
following: at least from following universally, and in all
cases.
Many, I am sensible, will wonder at finding this made
a question, or spoken of as in any degree doubtful. The
generality of mankind are so far from having that awful
sense of things, which the'present state of vice and misery
and darkness seems to make but reasonable, that they
have scarce any apprehension or thought at all about
this matter, any way: and some serious persons may
have spoken unadvisedly concerning it. But let us observe, what we experience to be, and what, from the
very constitution of nature, cannot but be, the consequences of irregular and disorderly behaviour: even of
such rashness, wilfulness, neglects, as we scarce call vicious. Now it is natural to apprehend, that the bad consequences of irregularity will be greater, in proportion as
the irregularity is so.  And there is no comparison between these irregularities, and the greater instances of
vice, or a dissolute profligate disregard to all religion; if
there be any thing at all in religion.  For consider what
0a




212            THE APPOINTMENT OF             [PATr U,
it is for creatures, moral agents, presumptuously to introduce that confusion and misery into the kingdom of
God, whllich mankind have in fact introduced: to blaspheme the Sovereign Lord of all; to contemn his authority; to be injurious, to the degree they are, to their fellow creatures, the creatures of God. Add that the effects
of vice in the present world are often extreme misery,
irretrievable ruin, and even death: and upon putting all
this together, it will appear, that as no one can say, in
what degree fatal the unprevented consequelnces of vice
may be, according to the general rule of -divine government; so it is by no means intuitively certain, how far
these consequences could possibly, in the nature of the
thing, be prevented, consistently with the eternal rule of
right, or with what is, in fact, the moral constitution of
nature. However, there would be large ground to hope,
that the universal government was not so seveiely
strict, but that there was room for pardon, or for having those penal consequences prevented. Yet,
IV. There seems no probability, that any thing we
could do would alone and of itself prevent them: prevent their following, or being inflicted.  But one would
think at least, it were impossible that the contrary should
be thought certain.  For we are not acquainted with
the whole of the case.  We are not informed of all the
reasons, which render it fit that future punishments
should be inflicted: and therefore cannot know, whether
any thing we could do would make such an alteration, as
to render it fit that they should be remitted. We do not
know what the whole natural or appointed consequences
of vice are; nor in what way they would follow, if not
prevented: and therefore can in no sort say, whether we
could do any thing which would be sufficient to prevent
them. Our ignorance being thus manifest, let us recollect the analogy of Nature or Providence. For, though
this may be but a slight ground to raise a positive opinion upon, in this matter; yet it is sufficient to answer a
mere arbitrary assertion, without any kind of evidence,
urged by way of objection against a doctrine, the proof
of which is not reason, but revelation.  Consider then:
people ruin their fortunes by extravagance; they bring




CtP. V.] ~   A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER.          213
diseases upon thelnselves by excess; they incur the
pn alties of civil laws; and surely civil government is
natural; will sorrow for these follies past, and behaving
well for the future, alone and of itself prevent the natural consequences of them? On the contrary, men's
iatural abilities of helping themselves are often impaired;
or if not, yet they are forced to be beholden to the
assistance of others, upon several accounts, and in different ways; assistance which they would have had no
occasion for, had it not been for their misconduct; but
which, in the disadvantageous condition they had reduced
themselves to, is absolutely necessary to their recovery,
and retrieving their affairs. Now since this is our case,
considering ourselves merely as inhabitants of this world,
and as having a temporal interest here, under the natural
government of God, which however has a great deal
moral in it; why is it not supposable that this may be
our case also, ill our more important capacity, as under
his perfect moral government, and having a more general and future interest depending P  If we have misbehaved in this higher capacity, and rendered ourselves
obnoxious to the future punishment, which God has
annexed to vice: it is plainly credible, that behaving well
for tile time to come may be-not useless, God forbid- -but wholly insufficient, alone and of itself, to prevent that punishment: or to put us in the condition,
which we should have been in had we preserved our
innocence.
And though we ought to reason with all reverence,
whenever we reason concerning the divine conduct: yet
it may be added, tlhat it is clearly contrary to all our
notions of government, as well as to what is, in fact, the
general constitution of nature, to suppose, that doing
well for the future should, in all cases, prevent all the
judicial bad consequences of having done evil, or all
the punishment annexed to disobedience. And we
have manifestly nothing from whence to determine, in
what degree, and in what cases, reformation would prevent this punishment, even supposing that it would in
some.  And though the efficacy of repentance itself
alone, to prevent what mankind had rendered themselves




214            THE APPOIN' MENT OF          [PART HI,
obnoxious to, and recover what they had forfeited, is
now insisted upon, in opposition to Christianity; yet, by
the general prevalence of propitiatory sacrifices over the
heathen world, this notion of repentance alone being
sufficient to expiate guilt, appears to be contrary to the
general sense of mankind.
Upon the whole then; had the laws, the general laws
of God's government been permitted to operate, without any interposition in our behalf, the future punishment, for ought we know to the contrary, or have any
reason to think, must inevitably have followed, notwithstanding any thing we could have done to prevent it.
Now,
V. In this darkness, or this light of nature, call it
which you please, revelation comes in; confirms every
doubting fear, which could enter into the heart of man,
concerning the future unprevented consequence of wickedness; supposes the world to be in a state of ruin (a
supposition which seems the very ground of the Christian dispensation, and which, if not provable by reason,
vet is in no wise contrary to it;) teaches us too, that the
rules of divine government are such, as not to admit of
pardon immediately and directly upon repentance, or by
the sole efficacy of it: but then teaches at the same time,
what nature might justly have hoped, that the moral
government of the universe was not so rigid, but that
there was room for an interposition, to avert the fatal
consequences of vice; which therefore, by this means,
does admit of pardon. Revtelation teaches us, that the
unknown laws of God's more general government, no
less than the particular laws by which we experience
he governs us at present, are compassionate,* as well as
good in the more general notion of goodness: and that
he hath mercifully provided, that there should be an
interposition to prevent the destruction of human kind;
whatever that destruction unprevented would have been.
God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son,
(hart whosoever believeth, not, to be sure, in a speculative,
but in a practical sense, that whosoever believeth in him,
slonuld coot perish:t gave his Son in. the same way of
+ P. 2 lo, &c.  jt ohn iii. 16.




CHAr. V.]           A M]EDIATOR AND REDEEMER.                                215
goodness to the world, as he affords particular persons
the friendly assistance of their fellow creatures: when,
without it, their temporal ruin would be the certain
consequence of their follies: in the same way of goodness, I say; though in a transcendent and infinitely
higher degree.  And' the Son of God loved us, and gave
kimselffor us, with a love, which he himself compares
to that of human friendship: though, in this case, all
comparisons must fall infinitely short of the thing intended to be illustrated by them.  He interposed in
such a manner as was necessary and effectual to prevent
that execution of justice upon sinners, which God had appointed should otherwise have been executed upon them:
or in such a manner, as to prevent that punishment
from actually following, which, according to the general
laws of divine government, must have followed the sins
of the world, had  it not been  for  such  interposition.*
If any thing here said should appear, upon first
thought, inconsistent with divine goodness; a second, I
am  persuaded, will entirely remove that appearance.
For were we to suppose the constitution of things to be
such, as that the whole creation must have perished,
had it not been for somewhat, which God had appointed
should be, in order to prevent that ruin: even this supposition would not be inconsistent, in any degree, with
the most absolutely perfect goodness.  But still it may
be thought, that this whole manner of treating the subject before us supposes mankind to be naturally in a
very  strange  state.   And  truly  so it does.   But it is not
Christianity which has put us into this state.  Whoever
* It cannot, I suppose, be imagined, even by the most cursory reader, that it is. in
any sort, affirmed or implied in any thing said in thlis chapter, that none call have
the benefit of the general redemption, bIt suchl as have the advantage of being miade
n('lqua-;ted with it in the present life.  But it may b1e needfuil to mention, that sevesral
qutestionls, which have beenr brought into the suibject before us, and determined, are:ot in the least entered into here: questions wlhiclh have beeni, I fiear, rashly detelrmined. and perhaps with equal rashness contrary ways.  For instance, whether God
could have daved the world by other mleans than the death of Christ, consistently
witll the gel eral laws of his government.  And ha1d not Christ co-se into the world,
u hat would have been the future conidition of the better sort o! men; those just!persons ever the face of the earLh, for wlol Manasses in his pray-r asserts, repen.
tLance was not appointed.  The rmealilng of the first of these questions is greatly
ambiguous: and neither of theirl can properly be answered, without going upon that
infinitely absurd supposition, that we know tilhe whole of the case.  And perhaps the
very ilnquiry, flhat would have followed, if God had not done as he ham, may have in
it some very great improprit.ty: alnd ougtllt  t to be carried on any further than is:iwcts.siry to ltlt) our partial and ill:deqluate conceptions of things.




216             THE APPOINTMENT OF              [PART I.
will consider the manifold miseries, and the extreme
wickedness of the world; that the best have great
wrongnesses within themse.ves, which they complain of
and endeavour to amend; but that the generality growv
more profligate and corrupt with age; that even moralists thought the present state to be a state of punishment: and, what might be added, that the earth our
habitation has the appearances of being a ruin: whoever,
I say, will consider all these, and some other obvious
things, will think he has little reason to object against
the Scripture account, that mankind is in a state of
degradation; against this being the fact: how difficult
soever he may think it to account for, or even to form a
distinct conception of the occasions and circumstances
of it. But that the crime of our first parents was the
occasion of our being placed in a more disadvantageous
condition, is a thing throaughout and particularly analogous to what we see in the daily course of natural providence; as the recovery of the world by the interposition of Christ has been shown to be so in general.
VI. The particular manner in which Christ interposed
in the redemption of the world, or his office as Mediator,
in the largest sense, between God and man, is thus represented to us in the Scripture.  He is the light of the
world;* the revealer of the will of God in the most
eminent sense.   He is a propitiatory sacrifice;t the
Lamb of God:t and, as he voluntarily offered himself
up, he is styled our High Priest.~ And, which seems
of peculiar weight, he is described beforehand in the
Old Testament, under the same characters of a priest,
and an expiatory victim.ll And whereas it is objected,
that all this is merely by way of allusion to the sacrifices
of the Mosaic law, the Apostle on the contrary affirms,
that the law was a shadow of good things to come, and not
the very image of the things:~ and that the priests that
effer gifts according to the law-serve unto the example
anti shadow of heavenly things, as Moses was adrmonished
* Jolhn i. and viii. 12,
j Rom. iii. 25. v. 11. 1 Cor. v. 7 Eph. v. 2. 1 John ii. 2. Mat. xvi. f
$ John i. 29, 36, and throughout the book of Revelation.
d Throughout the epistle to the Hebrews.
[ Isa. liii. Dan. ix.:21. P,. cx. 4.   ~  Heb. x. 1.




Hars. V.]    A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER.             217
of God, when he was about to make the tabernacle. For see,
saith he, that thou make all things according to the pattern
showed to thee in the mount:' i. e. the Levitical priesthood
was a shadow of the priesthood of Christ; in like manner
as the tabernacle made by Moses was according to that
showed him in the mount. The priesthood of Christ,
and the tabernacle in the mount, were the origiia.ls: of
the former of which the Levitical priesthood was a type;
and of the latter the tabernacle made by Moses was a
copy. The doctrine cr this epistle then plainly is, that
the legal sacrifices were- Allusions to the great and final
atonement to be made by the blood of Christ; and not
that this was an allusion to those. Nor can any thing
be more express or determinate than the following pas.sage. It is not possible that the blood of bulls and of goats
should take away sin. Wherefbre when he cometh into the
world, he saith, Sacrifice and offering, i. e. of bulls and of
goats, thou wouldest not, but a body hast thou prepared me.
Lo, I come to do thy will, 0 God.  By which will we are
sanctified, through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ
once for all.t And to add one passage more of the like
kind: Christ was once offered to bear the sins of many;
and unto them that look for him shall he appear the second
time, without sin; i. e. without bearing sin, as he did at
his first coming, by being an offering for it; without
having our iniquities again laid upon him, without being
any more a sin-offering: —unto them that lookjbfor him shall
he appear the second time, without sin, unto salvation.3
Nor do the inspired writers at all confine themselves to
this manner of speaking concerning the satisfaction of
Christ; but declare an efficacy in what he did and suffered
for us, additional to and beyond mere instruction, example, and government, in great variety of expression:
That Jesus should die for that nation, the Jews: and not
for that nation only, but that also, plainly by the efficacy
of his death, he should gather together in one the children
of God that were scattered abroad: ~ that he suffered for
sins, the just for the unjust:11 that he gave his liJe, himself,
a ransom:~ that we are bought, bought with a price:' that
*Heb. viii. 4, 5.  t Heb. x. 4, 5, 7, 9, 10.  t Heb. ix. 28.. John xi. 51, 52. 11 1 Pet. iii. 18.'T,Matt. xx. 28. Mark x. 45. 1'rim. i. S.
t* 2 Pet. ii. 1. Rev. xiv, 4. 1 Cor. vi. 20




218              THE APPOINTMENT OF               rpART ii.
he redeemed us with his blood: redeemed us from the curse
of the law, being made a curse for us:* that he is our
advocate, intercessor, and propitiation:t that he was made
perfect, or consummate, through sufferings; and being
thus made perfect, he became the author of salvation:$
that God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself;
by the death of his Son, by the cross; not imputing their
trespasses unto them:~ and lastly, that through death lhe
destroyed him that had the power of death. I  Christ then
having thus humbled himself, and become obedient to death,
even the death of the cross; God also hath highly exalted
him, and given him a name, which is above every name:
hath given all things into his hands: hath committed all
judgment unto him; that all men should honour the Son,
even as they honour the Father.~   For, worthy is the
Lamb that was slain, to receive power, and riches, and
wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing.
And every creature which is in heaven, and on the earth,
heard I, saying, Blessing, and honour, and glory, and
power, be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto
the Lamb for ever and ever.**
These passages of Scripture seem to comprehend and
express the chief parts of Christ's office, as Mediator
between God and man, so far, I mean, as the nature of
this his office is revealed; and it is usually treated of by
divines under three heads.
First, He was, by way of eminence, the Prophet: that
Prophet that should come into the world,tt to declare the
divine will.  He putbished  anew  the law  of nature,
which men had corrupted; and the very knowledge of
which, to some degree, was lost among them.   He
taught mankind, taught us authoritatively, to live soberly,
righteously, and godly in this present world, in expectation
of the future judgment of God.  He confirmed the truth
of this moral system of nature, and gave us additional
evidence of it; the evidence of testimony.tt  He distinctly revealed the manner, in which God would be
* I Pet. i. 19  Rev. v. 9. Gal. iii. 13.  1 Heb. vii. 25. 1 John ii. 1, 2.
I: lkvb i. x. v. 9.        ~ 2 Cor. v. 19. Rom. v. 10. Eph. ii. 16,
He1). ii. 14. See also a remarkable passage in the book of Jcb, xxxiii. 24.
Phil. ii. 8, 9. John iii. 35. v. 22, 23.  ** Rev. v. 12, 13.
ft John vi 14. 14.:: P. 167, &c.




CaAV. V.]    A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER.              219
worshipped, the efficacy of repentance, and -hJe rewards
and punishments of a future life. Thus he was a prophet in a sense in which no other ever was. To which
is to be added, that he set us a perfect example, that we
should follow his steps.
Secondly, He has a kingdom which is not of this world.
He founded a Church, to be to mankind a standing
memorial of religion, and invitation to it; which he promised to be with always even to the end. He exercises
an invisible government over it, himself, and by his Spirit:
over that part of it, which is militant here on earth, a
government of discipline, for the perkfcting of the saints,
/br the edify/ing his body: till we all come in the unity oJ
the fhiith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a
peif/ct man, unto the measure of the stature of thefJilness
of C/hrist.'  Of this Church, all persons scattered over
the world, who live in obedience to his laws, are members.  For these he is gone to prepare a place, and will
come again to receive them unto himsel;f that where he is,
there they may be also; and reign with himn for ever and
ever.' and likewise to take vengeance on them that know
not God, and obey not his Gospel.t
Against these parts of Christ's office I find no objections, but what are fully obviated in the beginning of
this Chapter.
Lastly, Christ offered himself a propitiatory sacrifice,
and'made atonement for the sins of the world; which is
mentioned last, in regard to what is objected against it.
Sacrifices of expiation were commanded the Jews, and
obtained amongst most other nations, from tradition,
whose original probably was revelation. And they were
continually repeated, both occasionally, and at the returns of stated times: and made up great part of tAhe
external religion of mankind.  But now once in the end
of the world Christ appeared to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself.~ And this sacrifice was, in the highest
degree and with the most extensive influence, of that
efficacy for obtaining pardon of sin, which the heathens
may be supposed to have thought their sacrifices to have
* Eph. iv. 12, 13.  j' John xiv. 2, 3. Rev. iii. 21, and xi. 15.
2 Thess. i. 8.               Ileb.'x. 26.




220            THE APPOINrMENT OF            PART II.
been, and which the Jewish sacrifices really were in
some degree, and with regard to some persons.
How and in what particular way it had this efficacy;
there are not wanting persons who have endeavoured to
explain: but I do not find that the Scripture has explained it. We seem to be very much in the dark
concerning the manner in which the ancients understood
atonement to be made, i. e. pardon to be obtained by
sacrifices. And if the Scripture has, as surely it has,
left this matter of the satisfaction of Christ mysterious,
left somewhat in it unrevealed, all conjectures about it
must be, if not evidently absurd, yet at least uncertain.
Nor has any one reason to complain for want of further
information, unless he can show his claim to it.
Some have endeavoured to explain the efficacy of
what Christ has done and suffered for us, beyond what
the Scripture has authorized: others, probably because
they could not explain it, have been for taking it away,
and confining his office as Redeemer of the world to his
instruction, example, and government of the church.
Whereas the doctrine of the Gospel appears to be, not
only that he taught the efficacy of repentance, but rendered it of the efficacy of which it is, by what he did
and suffered for us: that he obtained for us the benefit
of having our repentance accepted unto eternal life: not
only that he revealed to sinners, that they were in a
capacity of salvation, and how they might obtain it; but
moreover that he put them into this capacity of salvation,
by what he did and suffered for them; put us into a
capacity of escaping future punishment, and obtaining
future happiness. And it is our wisdom thankfully to
accept the benefit, by performing. the conditions, upon
which it is offered, on our part, without disputing how
it was procured on his. For,
VII. Since we neither know by what means punishment in a future state would have followed wickedness
in this: nor in what manner it would have been inflicted,
had it not been prevented; nor all the reasons why its
infliction would have been needful, nor the particular
natude of that state of happiness, which Christ is gone
to prepare for his disciples: and since we are ignorant




R.IP. V.]   A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER.           221
how far any thing which we could do, would, alone and
of itself, have been effectual to prevent that punishment
to which we were obnoxious, and recover that happiness, which we had forfeited; it is most evident we are
not judges, antecedently to revelation, wlether a mediator was or was not necessary, to obtain those ends: to
prevent that future punishment, and bring mankind to
the final happiness of their nature. And for the very
same reasons, upon supposition of the necessity of a
mediator, we are no more judges, antecedently to revelation, of the whole nature of his office, or the several
parts of which it consists; of what was fit and requisite
to be assigned him, in order to accomplish the ends of
divine Providence in the appointment.  And  from
hence it follows, that to object against the expediency
or usefulness of particular things, revealed to have been
done or suffered by him, because we do not see how
they were conducive to those ends, is highly absurd.
Yet nothing is more common to be met with, than this
absurdity.  But if it be acknowledged beforehand, that
we are not judges iIl the case, it is evident that no objection can, with any shadow of reason, be urged against
any particular part of Christ's mediatorial office revealed
in Scripture, till it can be shown positively not to be requisite or conducive to the ends proposed to be accomplished; or that it is in itself unreasonable.
And there is one objection made against the satisfaction of Christ, which looks to be of this positive kind:
that the doctrine of his being appointed to suffer for the
sins of the world, represents God as being indifferent'
whether he punished the innocent or the guilty.  Now
from the foregoing observations we may see the extreme
slightness of all such objections; and (though it is most
certain all who make them do not see the consequence)
that they conclude altogether as much against God's
whole original constitution of nature, and the whole
daily course of divine Providence in the government of
the world, i. e. against the whole scheme of Theism and
the whole notion of Religion, as against Christianity.
For the world is a constitution or system, whose parts
have a mutual reference to eaclh other: and there is a




222             THE APPOINTMENT OF            [PAR? It,
scheme of things gradually carrying on, called the course
of nature, to the carrying on of which God has appointed
us, in various ways, to contribute. And when, in the
daily course of natural providence, it is appointed that
innocent people should suffer for the faults of the guilty,
this is liable to the very same objection, as the instance
we are now considering.  The infinitely greater importance of that appointment of Christianity, which is objected against, does not hinder but it may be, as it plainly is, an appointment of the very same kind, with what
the world affords us daily examples of. Nay, if there
were any force at all in the objection, it would be
stronger, in one respect, against natural providence, than
against Christianity: because under the former we are
in many cases commanded, and even necessitated whether we will or no, to suffer for the faults of others'
whereas the sufferings of Christ were voluntary. The
world's being under the righteous government of God
does indeed niply, that finally and upon the whole
every one shall receive according to his personal deserts:
and the general doctrine of the whole Scripture is, that
this shall be the completion of the divine government.
But during the progress, and, for ought we know, even
in order to the completion of this moral scheme, vicarious punishments may be fit, and absolutely necessary.
Men by their follies run themselves into extreme distress; into difficulties which would be absolutely fatal to
them, were it not for the interposition and assistance of
others. God commands by the law of nature, that we
afford them this assistance, in many cases where we
cannot do it without very great pains, and labour, and
sufferings to ourselves. And we see in what variety of
ways one person's sufferings contribute to the relief of
another: and how, or by what particular means, this
comes to pass, or follows, from the constitution and laws
of nature, which came under our notice: and, being familiarized to it, men are not shocked with it.  So that the
reason of their insisting upon objections of the foregoing
kind against the satisfaction of Christ is, either that they
do not consider God's settled and uniform appointments
as his appointments at all' or else they forget that vica



eOSA. *.1J   A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER.            223
rious punishment is a providential appointment of every
day's experience: and then, from their being unacquainted with the more general laws of nature or divine
government over the world, and not seeing how the sufferings of Christ could contribute to the redemption of
it, unless by arbitrary and tyrannical will; they conclude
his sufferings could not contribute to it any other way.
And yet, what has been often alleged in justification of
this doctrine, even from the apparent natural tendency
of this method of our redemption; its tendency to vindicate the authority of God's laws, and deter his creatures
from sin; this has never yet been answered, and is I
think plainly unanswerable: though I am far from thinking it an account of the whole of the case. But, without taking this into consideration, it abundantly appears,
from the observations above made, that this objection is,
not an objection against Christianity, but against the
whole general constitution of nature. And if it were to
be considered as an objection against Christianity, or
considering it as it is, an objection against the constitution of nature; it amounts to no more in conclusion than
this, that a divine appointment cannot be necessary or expedient, because the objector does not discern it to be so:
though he must own that the nature of the case is such,
as renders him incapable of judging, whether it be so or
not; or of seeing it to be necessary, though it were so.
It is indeed a matter of great patience to reasonable
men, to find people arguing in this manner: objecting
against the credibility of such particular things revealed
in Scripture, that they do not see the necessity or expediency of them. For though it is highly right, and
the most pious exercise of our understanding, to inquire
with due reverence into the ends and reasons of God's
dispensation: yet when those reasons are concealed, to
argyue from our ignorance, that such dispensations cannit be from God, is infinitely absurd. The presumption
of this kind of objections seems almost lost in the follv
of tdem. And the folly of them is yet greater, when
they are urged, as usually they are, against things in
Christianity analogous or like to those natural dispensations of Providence, which are matter of experience.




224             THE APPOINTMENT OF            FPART II.
Let reason be kept to: and if any part of the Scripture
account of the redemption of the world by Christ can be
shown to be really contrary to it, let the Scripture, in
the name of God, be given up: but let not such poor
creatures as we go on objecting against an infinite
scheme, that we do not see the necessity or usefulness
of all its parts, and call this reasoning; and, which still
further heightens the absurdity in the present case, parts
which we are not actively concerned in. For it may be
worth mentioning,
Lastly, That not only the reason of the thing, but the',;hole analogy of nature, should teach us, not to expect
to have the like information concerning the divine conduct, as concerning our own duty. God instructs us by,experience (for it is not reason, but experience which
instructs us), what good or bad consequences will
follow from our acting in such and such manners: and
by this he directs us how we are to behave ourselves.
But, though we are sufficiently instructed for the common purposes of life: yet it is but an almost infinitely
small part of natural providence, which we are at all let
into.  The case is the same with regard to revelation,
The doctrine of a mediator between God and man,
aigainst which it is objected, that the expediency of
some things in it is not understood, relates only to what
was done on God's part in the appointment, and on the
Mlediator's in the execution of it.  For what is required
of us, in consequence of this gracious dispensation, is
another subject, in which none can complain for want of
information. The constitution of the world, and God's
natural government over it, is all mystery, as much as
the Christian dispensation.  Yet under the first he has
given men all things pertaining to life; and under the
other all things pertaining unto godliness. And it may
be added, that there is nothing hard to be accounted for
in any of the common precepts of Christianity: though
if there were, surely a divine command is abundantly
sufficient to lay us under the strongest obligations to
obedience.  But the fact is, that the reasons of all the,Christian precepts are evident.  Positive institutions are
manifestl]y necessary to keep up and propagate religion




rNAP. VI.)  A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER.           225
amongst mankind. And our duty to Christ, the internal
find external worship of him; this part of the religion of
the Gospel manifestly arises out of what he has done
and suffered, his authority and dominion, and the rela~tion which he is revealed to stand in to us."
CHAP. VI.
OF THE WANT OF UNIVERSALITY IN REVELATION; AND OF
THE SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN THE PROOF OF IT.
IT has been thought by some persons, that if the evidence of revelation appears doubtful, this itself turns
into a positive argument against it: because it cannot be
supposed, that, if it were true, it would be left to subsist
upon doubtful evidence.  And the objection against
revelation from its not being universal is often insisted
upon as of great weight.
Now the weakness of these opinions may be shown,
by,bserving thile suppositions on which they are founded: which are really such as these; that it cannot be
thought God would have bestowed any favour at all
upon us, unless in the degree, which, we think, he might,
and which, we imagine, would be most." our particular
advantage; and also that it cannot be thought he would
bestow a favour upon any, unless he bestowed the same
upon all; suppositions, which we find contradicted, not
by a few instances in God's natural government of the
world, but by the general analogy of nature together.
Persons who speak of the evidence of religion as
doubtful, and of this supposed doubtfulness as a positive
argument against it, should be put upon considering,
what that evidence indeed is, which they act upon with
regard to their temporal interests. For, it is not only
extremely difficult, but in many cases absolutely impossible, to balance pleasure and pain, satisfaction and
uneasiness, so as to be able to say on which side the
overplus is. There are the like difficulties and impossibilities in making the due allowances for a change of
* P. 171, &c.
P




226         REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL:        [PARr I[.
temper and taste, for satiety, disgusts, ill health: any of
which render men incapable of enjoying, after they have
obtained what they most eagerly desired. Numberless
too are the accidents, besides that one of untimely death,
which may even probably disappoint the best concerted
schemes: and strong objections are often seen to lie
against them, not to be removed or answered, but which
seem overbalanced by reasons on the other side; so as
that the certain difficulties and dangers of the pursuit
are, by every one, thought justly disregarded, upon
account of the appearing greater advantages in case of
success, though there be but little probability of it.
Lastly, every one observes our liableness, if we be not
upon our guard, to be deceived by the falsehood of men,
and the false appearances of things: and this danger
must be greatly increased, if there be a strong bias
within, suppose from indulged passion, to favour the
deceit.  Hence arises that great uncertainty and doubtfulness of proof, wherein our temporal interest really
consists; what are the most probable means of attaining
it; and whether those means will eventually be successful. And numberless instances there are, in the daily
course of life, in which all men think it reasonable to
engage in pursuits, though the probability is greatly
against succeeding; and to make such provision for
themselves, as it is supposable they may have occasion
for, though the plain acknowledged probability is, that
they never shall. Then those who think the objection
against revelation, from its light not being universal, to
be of weight, should observe, that the Author of Nature,
in numberless instances, bestows that upon some, which
he does not upon others, who seem equally to stand in
need of it.  Indeed he appears to bestow all his gifts
with the most promiscuous variety among creatures of
the same species: health and strength, capacities of prudence and of knowledge, means of improvement, riches,
and all external advantages. And as there are not any
two men found, of exactly like shape and features;,sJ
it is probable there are not any two, of an exactly like
consti'tution, temper, and situation, with regard to the
goods and evils of life;  Yet, notwithstanding these




rP. A.]  SUPPOSED DEFTCIENCY IN ITS PROOF.       227
uncertainties and varieties; God does exercise a natural
government over the world; and there is such a thing
as a prudent and imprudent institution of life, with regard to our health and our affairs, under that his natural
government.
As neither the Jewish nor Christian revelation have
been universal; and as they have been afforded to a
greater or less part of the world, at different times; so
likewise at different times, both revelations have had
different degrees of evidence. The Jews who lived
during the succession of prophets, that is, from  Moses
-ill after the Captivity, had higher evidence of the truth
c" their religion, than those had, who lived in the interval between the last mentioned period, and the coming
of Christ.  And the first Christians had higher evidence
of the miracles wrought in attestation of Christianity,
than what we have now.  They had also a strong presumptive proof of the truth of it, perhaps of much
greater force, in way of argument, than many think, of
which we have very little remaining; I mean the presumptive proof of its truth, from the influence which it
had upon the lives of the generality of its professors.
And we, or future ages, may possibly have a proof of it,
which they could not have, from the conformity between
the prophetic history, and the state of the world and of
Christianity.  And further: if we were to suppose the
evidence, which some have of religion, to amount to
little more than seeing that it may be true; but that
thev remain in great doubts and uncertainties about
both its evidence and its nature, and great perplexities
concerning the rule of life: others to have a full conviction of the truth of religion, with a distinct knowledge
of their duty; and others severally to have all the intermediate degrees of religious light and evidence, which
lie between these two-if we put the case, that for the
present, it was intended, revelation should be no more
than a small light, in the midst of a world greatly overspread, notwithstanding it, with ignorance and darkness:
that certain glimmerins of this light should extend, and
be directed, to remote distances, in such a manner as
that those who reallv partook of it should not discerr
P2




228         REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL:       [PART II.
from whence it originally came: that wame in a nearer
situation to it should have its light obscured, and, in different ways and degrees, intercepted: and that others
should be placed within its clearer influence, and be
much more enlivened, cheered,-and directed by it; but
yet that even to these it should be no more than a light
shining in a dark place: all this would be perfectly uniform, and of a piece with the conduct of Providence, in
the distribution of its other blessings.  If the fact of the
case really were, that some have received no light at all
from the Scripture; as many ages and countries in the
heathen world: that others, though they have, by means
of it, had essential or natural religion enforced upon their
consciences, yet have never had the genuine Scripture
revelation, with its real evidence, proposed to their consideration; and the ancient Persiapn and modern Mahometans may possibly be instances of' people in a situation somnewhat like to this: that others, though they have
had the Scripture laid before them as of divine revelation,
vet have had it with the system and evidence of Christianity so interpolated, the system so corrupted, the evidence so blended with false miracles, as to leave the
mind in the utmost doubtfulness and uncertainty about
the whole; which may be the state of some thoughtful
mnen, in most of those nations who call themselves Christian: and lastly, that others have had Christianity offered
to them in its genuine simnplicity, and with its proper
evidence, as persons in countries and churches of civil
and of Christian liberty; but however that even these
persons are left in great ignorance in many respects, and
have by no means light afforded them  enough to satisfy
their curiosity, but only to regulate their life, to teach
them their duty, and encourage them in the careful discharge of it: I say, if we were to suppose this somewhat
of a general true account of the degrees of moral and
religious light and evidence, which were intended to be
afforded mankind, and of what has actually been and is
their situation, in their moral and religi3us capacity; there
would be nothing in all this ignorance, doubtfulness, and
uncertainty, in all these varieties, and supposed disadvantages of some in comparison of others, respecting




CauP. VI.]  SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF.   229
refigion, but mnay be paralleled by manifest analogies in
the natural dispensations of Providence at present, and
considering ourselves merely in our temporal capacity.
Nor is there any thing shocking in all this, or which
would seem to bear hard upon the moral administration
in nature, if we would really keep in mind, that every
one shall be dealt equitably with: instead of forgetting
this, or explaining it away, after it is acknowledged in
words. All shadow of injustice, and indeed all harsh
appearances, in this various economy of Providence,
would be lost; if we would keep in mind, that every
merciful allowance shall be made, and no more be required of any one, than what might have been equitably
expected of him, from the circumstances in which he was
placed; and not what might have been expected, had he
been placed in otl, 5Circumstances: i. e. in Scripture
language, that every man shall be accepted according to
what he had, not according to what he had not.' This however doth not by any means imply, that all persons'condition here is equally advantageous with respect to futurity.  And Providence's designing to place some in
greater darkness with respect to religious knowledge, is
no more a reason why they should not endeavour to get
out of that darkness, and others to bring them out of it;
than why ignorant and slow people in matters of other
knowledge should not endeavour to learn, or should not
be instructed.
It is not unreasonable to suppose, that the same wise
and good principle, whatever it was, which disposed the
Author of Nature to make different kinds and orders of
creatures, disposed him also to place creatures of like
kinds in different situations: and that the same principle
which disposed him to make creatures of different moral
capacities, disposed him also to place creatures of like
moral capacities in different religious situations; and even
the same creatures, in different periods of their being.
And the account or reason of this is also most probably
the account why the constitution of things is such, as
that creatures of moral natures or capacities, for a considerable part of that duration in which they are living
* 2 Cor. viii, 12.




230        REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL:         [PART IL
agents, are not at all subjects of morality and religion;
but grow up to be so, and grow up to be so more and
more gradually from childhood to mature age.
What; in particular, is the account or reason of these
things, we must be greatly in the dark, were it only that
we know so very little even of our own case. Our present state may possibly be the consequence of somewhat
past, which we are wholly ignorant of: as it has a reference to somewhat to come, of which we know scarce any
more than is necessary for practice. A system or constitution, in its notion, implies variety; and so complicated a one as this world, very great variety.  So tha.twere revelation universal, yet, from men's different capacities of understanding, from the different lengths of their
lives, their different educations and other external circumstances, and from their difference of temper and bodily
constitution; their religious situations would be widely
different, and the disadvantage of some in comparison
of others, perhaps, altogether as much as at present.
And the true account, whatever it be, why mankind, or
such a part of mankind, are placed in this condition of
ignorance, must be supposed also the true account of
our fiurther ignorance, in not knowing the reasons why,
or whence it is, that they are placed in this condition.
But the following practical reflections may deserve the
serious consideration of those persons, who think the
circumstances of mankind or their own, in the forementioned respects, a ground of complaint.
First, The evidence of religion not appearing obvious,
may constitute one particular part of some men's trial in
the religious sense: as it gives scope, for a. virtuous exercise, or vicious neglect of their understanding, in examining or not examining into that evidence. There
seems no possible reason to be given, why we may not
be in a state of moral probation, with regard to the exercise of our understanding upon the subject of religion,
as we are with regard to our behaviour in common
affairs.  The former is as much a thing within our power
and choice as the latter.  And I suppose it is to be laid
down for certain, that thle same character, the same inward principle, which, after a man is convinced of the




CatP. VI.]  SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF.     231
truth of religion, renders him obedient to the precepts of
it, would, were he not thus convinced, set him about an
examination of it, upon its system and evidence being
offered to his thoughts: and that in the latter state his
examination would be with an impartiality, seriousness,
and solicitude, proportionable to what his obedience is
in the former.  And as inattention, negligence, want of
all serious concern, about a matter of such a nature and
such importance, when offered to men's consideration, is,
before a distinct conviction of its truth, as real immoral
depravity and dissoluteness; as neglect of religious practice after such conviction: so active solicitude about it,
and fair impartial consideration of its evidence before
such conviction, is as really an exercise of a morally right
temper; as is religious practice after.  Thus, that religion is not intuitively true, but a matter of deduction
and inference; that a conviction of its truth is not forced
upon every one, but left to be, by some, collected witha
heedful attention to premises; this as much constitutes
religious probation, as much affords sphere, scope, opportunity, for right and wrong behaviour, as any thing whate~ver does.  And their manner of treating this subject,
-when laid before them, shows what is in their heart, and
is an exertion of it.
Cfecondly, It appears to be a thing as evident, thougll
it is not so much attended to, that if, upon consideration
of religion, the evidence of it should seem to any persons
doubtful, in the highest supposable degree; even this
doubtful evidence will, however, put them into a general
state of probation in the moral and religious sense. For,
suppose a man to be really in doubt, whether such a
person had not done hirr the greatest favour; or, whether
his whole temporal interest did not depend upon that
person: no one, who had any sense of gratitude and ot
prudence, could possibly consider himself in the same
situation, with regard to such person, as if he had no
such doubt.  In truth, it is as just to say, that certainty
and doubt are the same; as to say the situations
now mentioned would leave a man as entirely at liberty
in point of gratitude or prudence, as he would be, were
he certa;>',- had received no favour from such persor,




232         REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL         [FART I1.
or that he no way depended upon him.  And tllhus,
though the evidence of religion which is afforded to some
men should be little more than they are given to see, tile
system of Christianity, or religion in general, to be supposable and credible; this ought in all reason to beget a
serious practical apprehension, that it may be true. And
even this will afford matter of' exercise for religious
suspense and deliberation, for moral resolution an,
self-government; because the apprehension that religion
may be true does as really lay men under obligations, as
a full conviction that it is true. It gives occasion and
motives to consider further the important subject; to preserve attentively upon their minds a general implicit sense
that they may be under divine moral government, an awful
solicitude about religion, whether natural or revealed.
Such apprehension ought to turn men's eyes to every
degree of new light which may be had, from whatever
side it comes; and induce them to refrain, in the mean
time, from all immoralities, and live in the conscientious
practice of every common virtue. Especially are they
bound to keep at the greatest distance from all dissolute
profaneness; for this the very nature of the case forbids;
and to treat with highest reverence a matter, upon which
their own whole interest and being, and the fate of
nature, depend. This behaviour, and an active endeavour
to maintain within themselves this temper, is the business, the duty, and the wisdom of those persons, who
complain of the doubtfulness of religion: is what they are
under the most proper obligations to.  And such behaviour is an exertion of, and has a tendency to improve
in them, that character, which the practice of all the
several duties of religion, from a full conviction of its
truth, is an exertion of, and has a tendency to improve
in others: others, I say, to whom God has afforded such
conviction. Nay, considering the infinite importance of
religion, revealed as well as natural, I think it may be
said in general, that whoever will weigh the matter
thoroughly may see, there is not near so much difference,
as is commonly imagined, between what ought in reason
to be the rule of life, to those persons who are fully convinced of its'truth, and to those who have only z serious




tKrp. VI.]  SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF.  233
doubting apprehension, that it may be true. Their hopes,
and fears, and obligations, will be in various degrees: but,
as the subject matter of their hopes and fears is the same;
so the subject matter of their obligations, what they are
bound to do and to refrain from, is not so very unlike.
It is to be observed further, that, from a character of
understanding, or a situation of influence in the world,
some persons have it in their power to do infinitely more
harm or good, by setting an example of profaneness and
avowed disregard to all religion, or, on the contrary, of
a serious, though perhaps doubting, apprehension of its
truth, and of a reverend regard to it under this doubtfulness; than they can do, by acting well or ill in all the
common intercourses amongst mankind. And consequently they are most highly accountable for a behaviour,
which, they may easily foresee, is of such importance,
and in which there is most plainly a right and a wrong;
even admitting the evidence of religion to be as doubtful
as is pretended.
The ground of these observations, and that which
renders them just and true, is, that doubting necessarily
implies some degree of evidence for that, of which we
doubt.  For no person would be in doubt concerning
the truth of a number of facts so and so circumstanced,
which should accidentally come into his thoughts, and of
which he had no evidence at all. And though in the
case of an even chance, and where consequently we were
in doubt, we should in common language say, that we
had no evidence at all for either side; yet that situation
of things, which renders it an even chance and no more,
that such an event will happen, renders this case equivalent to all others, where there is such evidence on both
sides of a question,' as leaves the mind in doubt concerning the truth.  Indeed in all these cases, there is no
more evidence on one side than on the other; but there
is (what is equivalent to) much more for either, than for
the truth of a number of facts, which come into one's
thoughts at random. And thus, in all these cases, doubt
as much presupposes evidence, lower degrees of evidence, as belief pi esupposes higher, and certainty higher
* Introduction.




234         REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL:          T-ARt i[
still.  Any one, who will a little attend to the nature of
evidence, will easily carry this observation on, and see,
that between no evidence at all, and that degree of it
which affords ground of doubt, there are as many intermediate degrees, as there are, between that degree which
is the ground of doubt, and demonstration.  And though
we have not faculties to distinguish these degrees of
evidence with any sort of exactness; yet, in proportion
as they are discerned, they ought to influence our practice.  For it is as r. al an imperfection in the moral character, not to be influenced in practice by a lower degree
of evidence when discerned, as it is in the understanding,
not to discern it. And as, in all subjects which men con.sider, they discern the lower as well as higher degrees of
evidence, proportionably to their capacity of understanding; so, in practical subjects, they are influenced in practice, by the lower as well as higher degrees of it, proportionably to their fairness and honesty. And as, ill proportion to defects in the understanding, men are unapt
to see lower degrees of evidence, are in dlaner of overlooking evidence when it is not glaring, and are easily
imposed upon in such cases; so, in proportion to the
corruption of the heart, they seem  capable of satisfving
themselves with having no regard in practice to evidence
acknowledged real, if it be not overbearing. From these
things it must follow, that doubting concerning religion
implies such a degree of evidence for it, as, joined with
the consideration of its importance, unquestionably lays
men under the obligations before mentioned, to have a
dutiful regard to it in all their behaviour.
Thirtdly, The difficulti s in which the evidence of religion is involved, which some complain of, is no Inore a
just ground of complaint, than the external circumstances
of teumptation, which others are placed in; or than diffiUlities in the practice of' it, after a full conviction of its
truth.  Temptations render our state a more improving
state of discipline,* than it would be otherwise:. as they
give occasion for a more attentive exercise of the virtn.ous princp1e., which confirms and strencther s it more,
an an easier ur less attentive exercise of it col!d. No X
Parn  i. Ciadp. v.




CAr, VI.]  SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF.      235
speculative difficulties are, in this respect, of the very
same nature with these external temptations.  For the
evidence of religion not appearing obvious, is to some
persons a temptation to reject it, without any consideration at all; and therefore requires such an attentive exercise of the virtuous principle, seriously to consider that
evidence, as there would be no occasion for, but for such
temptation. And the supposed doubtfulness of its evidence, after it has been in some sort considered, affords
opportunity to an unfair mind of explaining away, and
deceitfully hiding from itself, that evidence which it might
see; and also for men's encouraging themselves in vice,
from hopes of impunity, though they do clearly see thus
much at least, that these hopes are uncertain: in like
manner as the common temptation to many instances of
folly, which end in temporal infamy and ruin, is the
ground for hope of not being detected, and of escaping
with impunity; i. e. the doubtfulness of the proof beforehand, that such foolish behaviour will thus end in infamy
and ruin.  On the contrary, supposed doubtfulness in
the evidence of religion calls for a more careful and attentive exercise of the virtuous principle, in fairly yielding
themselves up to the proper influence (f any real evidence, though doubtful; and in practising conscientiously
all virtue, though under some uncertainty, whether the
government in the universe may not possibly be such, as
that vice may escape with impunity. And in general,
temptation, meaning by this word the lesser allurements
to wrong and difficulties in the discharge of our duty, as
well as the greater ones; temptation, I say, as sulhl and
of every kind and degree, as it calls forth some virtuous
efforts, additional to what would otherwise have been
wanting, cannot but be an additional discipline and improvement of virtue, as wvell as probation of it in the
other senses of that word.'  So that the very same account is to be given, why the evidence of religion should
be left in such a manner, as to require, in some, an
attentive, solicitous, perhaps painful exercise of their
understanding, about it; as why others should be placed
in such circumstances, as that the practice of its comrmot
* Part I. Chap. iv. aind pp. 1i31, i34.




236         REVELATION NOT UNIVERSA':         iPAT ln.
duties, after a full conviction of the truth of it, should
require attention, solicitude, and pains: or, why appearing doubtfulness should be permitted to afford matter of
temptation to some; as why external difficulties and
allurements should be permitted to afford matter of
temptation to others. The same account also is to be
given, why some should be exercised with temptations
of both these kinds; as why others should be exercised
with the latter in such very high degrees, as some have
been, particularly as the primitive Christians were.
Nor does there appear any absurdity in supposing,
that the speculative difficulties, in which the evidence of
religion is involved, may make even the principal part
of some persons' trial.  For as the chief temptations of
the generality of the world are the ordinary motives to
injustice or unrestrained pleasure; or to live in the neglect of religion from that frame of mind, which renders
many persons almost without feeling as to any thing distant, or which is not the object of their senses: so there
are other persons without this shallowness of temper,
persons of a deeper sense as to what is invisible and
future; who not only see, but have a general practical
feeling, that what is to come will be present, and that
things are not less real for their not being the objects of
sense; and who, from their natural constitution of body
and of temper, and from their external condition, may
have small temptations to behave ill, small difficulty in
behaving well, in the common course of life. Now
when these latter persons have a distinct full conviction
of the truth of religion, without any possible doubts or
difficulties, the practice of it is to them unavoidable, unless they will do a constant violence to their own minds;
and religion is scarce any more a discipline to them,
than it is to creatures in a state of perfection.  Yet
these persons may possibly stand in need of moral discipline and exercise in a higher degree, than they would
have by such an easy practice of religion. Or it may
be requisite, for reasons unknown to us, that they should
give some further manifestation* what is their moral
character, to the creation of God, than such a practice
* P. 133, 134.




CUa. 1,J]  SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF.     231
9f it would be. Thus in the great variety of religious
situations in which men are placed, what constitutes,
what chiefly and peculiarly constitutes, the probation, in
all senses, of some persons, may be the difficulties in
which the evidence of religion is involved: and their
principal and distinguished trial may be, how they will
behave under and with respect to these difficulties.
Circumstances in men's situation in their temporal capacity, analogous in good measure to this respecting religion, are to be observed. We find some persons are
placed in such a situation in the world, as that their
chief difficulty with regard to conduct, is not the doing
what is prudent when it is known; for this, in numberless cases, is as easy as the contrary: but to some the
principal exercise is, recollection and being upon their
guard against deceits, the deceits suppose of those about
them; against false appearances of reason and prudence.
To persons in some situations, the principal exercise
with respect to conduct is, attention in order to inform
themselves what is proper, what is really the reasonable
and prudent part to act.
But as I have hitherto gone upon supposition, that
men's dissatisfaction with the evidence of religion is not
owing to their neglects or prejudices; it must be added,:n the other hand, in all common reason, and as what
the truth of the case plainly requires should be added,
that such dissatisfaction possibly may be owing to those,
possibly may be men's own fault. For,
If there are any persons, who never set themselves
heartily and. in earnest to be informed in religion; if
there are any, who secretly wish it may not prove true;
and are less attentive to evidence than to difficulties, and
more to objections than to what is said in answer to
them: these persons will scarce be thought in a likely
way of seeing the evidence of religion, though it were
most certainly true, and capable of being ever so fully
proved. If any accustom themselves to consider this
subject usually in the way of mirth and sport: if they
attend to forms and representations, and inadequate man.
iers of expression, instead of the real things intended
by them: (for signs often can be no more than inade



238           REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL:               r[PAmr I
quately expressive of the things signified:) or if they
substitute human errors in the room of divine truth;
vhy may not all, or any of these things, hinder some
Ben from  seeing that evidence, which really is seen by
)thers; as a like turn of mind, with respect to matters
of common speculation and practice, does, we find by
experience, hinder them  from  attaining that knowledge
and right understanding, in matters of common speculation and practice, which more fair and attentive minds
attain toP And the effect will be the same, whether
their neglect of seriously considering  the evidence of
religion, and their indirect behaviour with regard to it,
proceed from mere carelessness, or from the grosser
vices; or whether it be owing to this, that forms and
figurative manners of expression, as well as errors, admiuister occasions of ridicule, when the things intended,
and the truth itself, would not.  Men may indulge  a
ludicrous turn so far as to lose all sense of conduct and
prudence in worldly affairs, and even, as it seems, to
impair their faculty of reason.  And in general, levity,
carelessness, passion, and prejudice do hinder us from
being rightly informed, with respect to common things:
and they may, in like manner, and perhaps in some
further providential manner, with respect to moral and
religious subjects: may hinder evidence from  being laid
before us, and from being seen when it is.  The Scripture* does declare, that every one shall not understand.
And it makes no difference, by what providential conduct this comes to pass: whether the evidence of Christianity was, originally and with design, put and left so,
as that those who are desirous of evading moral obligations should not see it; and that honest-minded persons should: or, whether it comes to pass by any other
means.
Further: The general proof of natural religion and of
* Dan. xii. 10. See also Isa. xxix. 13, 14. AMatth. vi. 23. and xi. 25. and
xiii. 11, 12.  John iii. 19. and v. 14.  1 Cor. ii. 14. and 2 Cor. iv. 4.  2 Tim. iii. 13.
and that affectionate as well ns authoritative admonition, so very many timnes inculcated, He that hath ears to hear, let hi /, hear. Grotius saw so strongly the thing
it/lended in these all other passa~rgis of Scripture of the like sense, as to say, that tile
pirof given us of Clhristianity was less tlian it m;aht have been, for this very purIose: Vt ita sermo Evangelii tassquamn lapis esset Lydius ad euem ingenia sanabilia
explot-.rezntur. De Ver. R. C. lib. ii. towards the.nd.




ft.~. V.]  SUPPOSEI) DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF.     239
Christianity does, I think, lie level to common men; evern
those, the greatest part of whose time, from childhood
to old age, is taken up with providing for themselves
and their families the common conveniences, perhaps
necessaries, of life: those I mean, of this rank, who ever
think at all of asking after proof, or attending to it.
Common men, were thev as much in earnest about
religion, as about their temporal affairs, are capable of
being conlvinced upon real evidence, that there is a God
who governs the world: and they feel themselves to be
of a moral nature, and accountable creatures. And as
Christianity entirely falls in with this their natural sense
of things, so they are capable, not only of being persuaded, but of being made to see, that there is evidence of
miracles wrought in attestation of it; and many appearing
completions of prophecy.  But though this proof is real
and conclusive, yet it is liable to objections, and nmay be
run up into difficulties; which. howvever persons.to are
capable not only of talking o!f; ut of really seeing, are
capable also of seeing throu'l:'i. e. not of clearing.up
and answering them, so as to satisfy their curiosity, for
of such knowledge   we are not capable with respect to
any one thing in nature; but capable of seeing that the
proof is not lost in these difficulties, or destroyed by
these objections.  But then a thoroulgh exanmination into
religrion with regard to these objections, whicll cannot be
the business of every man, is a matter of' pretty large
compass, and, from  the nature of it, requires some
knowledge, as well as time and attention; to see, ho"w
thle evidence comes out, upon balancing one thingr witW.
another, and what, upon the wtNhle, is the amount of it.
Now if persons who have picked up these objections
from others, and take for granted they are of weight,.
upon the word of those from whom they received them,
or, by often retailing of them, come to see or fancy they
see them to be of weight; will not prepare themselves
for such an examination, with a competent degree of
knowledge; or will. not give that time and attention to
the subject, which, from the nature of it, is necessary for
attaining such information: in this case, they must remain
in doubtfulness, ignorance, or error: in the same way as




2-0         REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL:          [PART a.
they inust, with regard to common sciences, and matters
of common life, if they neglect the necessary rfeans of
being informed in them.
But still perhaps it will be objected, that if a prince or
common master were to send directions to a servant, he
would take care, that they should always bear the certain
marks, who they came from, and that their sense sli'ould
be always plain: so as that there should be no possible
doubt if he could help it, concerning the authority or
meaning of them.  Now the proper answer to all this
kind of objections is, that, wherever the fallacy lies, it is
even certain we cannot argue thus with respect to Him,
who is the goverinor of the world: and particularly that
he does not afford us su'ch information, with respect to
our temporal affairs and interests, as experience abundantlyv shows.  However, there is a full answer to this
objection,. from  the very nature of religion.  For, the
reason why a prince would give his directions in this
plain manner is, that he absolutely desires such an external action should be done, without concerning himself
with the motive or principle upon which it is done: i. e.
he reg;ards only the external event, or the thing's being
done;  and not at all, properly speaking, the doing of it,
or the action.  Whereas the whole of morality and
reliigion, consisting merely in action itself, there is no
sort of parallel between the cases.  But if the prince be
supposed to regard only the action; i. e. only to desire
to exercise, or in any sense prove, the understanding or
loyalty of a servant; he would not always give his orders
in such a plain manner.  It may be proper to add, that
the will of God, respecting morality and religion, may
be considered either as absolute, or as only conditional.
If it be absolute, it can only be thus, that ae should act
virtuously in such given circumstances; not that we
should be brought to act so, by his changing of our
circumstances.  And if God's will be thus absolute,
then it is in our power, in the highest and strictest sense,
to do or to contradict his will; which is a most weighty
consideration. Or his will may be considered only as
conditional, that if we act so and so, we shall be rewarded; if otherwise, punished: of which conditional will of




CHAr. VI.]  SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF.    241
the Author of Nature, the whole constitution oT it affords
most certain instances.
Upon the whole: that we are in a state of religion
necessarily implies, that we are in a state of probation:
and the credibility of our being at all in such a state
being admitted, there seems no peculiar difficulty in
supposing our probation to be, just as it is, in those
respects which are above objected against. There seems
no pretence, from the reason of the thing, to say, that the
trial cannot equitably be any thing, but whether persons
will act suitably to certain information, or such as admits
no room  for doubt; so as that there can be no danger
of miscarriage, but either from their not attending to
what they certainly know, or from overbearing passion
hurrying them on to act contrary to it.  For, since ignorance and doubt affolrd scope for probation in all senses,
as really as intuitive conviction or certainty; and since
the two former are to be put to the same account as
difficulties in practice; men's moral probation may also
be, whether they will take due care to inform themselves
by impartial consideration, and afterwards whether they
will act as the case requires, upon the evidence which
they have, however doubtful.  And this, we find by
experience, is frequently our probation,* in our temporal
capacity.  For, the information which we want with
regard to our worldly interests is by no means always
given us of course, without any care of our own.  And
we are greatly liable to self-deceit from inward secret
prejudices, and also to the deceits of others.  So that to
be able to judge what is the prudent part, often requires
much and difficult consideration.  Then after we have
judged the very best we can, the evidence upon which
we must act, if we will live and act at all, is perpetually
doubtful to a very high degree.  And the constitution
and course of the world in fact is such, as that wanlt of
impartial consideration what we have to do, and ventui
ing upon extravagant courses because it is doubtful what
will be the consequence, are often naturally, i. e. providentially, altogether as fatal, as misconduct occasioned
* P. 78, 231, &c.
Q




242        OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE        [aT II.
by heedless inattention to what we certainly know, or
disregarding it from overbearing passion.
Several of the observations here made may well seem
strange, perhaps unintelligible, to many good men. But
if the persons for whose sake they are made think so;
persons who object as above, and throw off all regard to
religion under pretence of want of evidence; I desire
them to'consider again, whether their thinking so be
owing to any thing unintelligible in these observations,
or to their own not having such a sense of religion and
serious solicitude about it, as even their state of scepticism does in all reason require?  It ought to be forced
upon the reflection of these persons, that our nature and.
condition necessarily require us, in the daily course of
life, to act upon evidence much lower than what is comunonly called probable: to guard, not only against what
we fully believe will, but also against what we think it
supposable may, happen; and to engage in pursuits
when the probability is greatly against success, if it be
credible, that possibly we may succeed in them.
CHAP. VII.
OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANITY.'rHE presumptions against revelation, and objections
against the general scheme of Christianity, and particular things relating to it, being removed; there remains
to be considered, what positive evidence we have for
the truth of it; chiefly in order to see, what the analogy
of nature suggests with regard to that evidence, and the
objections against it: or to see what is, and is allowed
to be, the plain natural rule of judgment and of action,
in our temporal concerns, in cases where we have the
same kind of evidence, and the same kind of objections
against it, that we have in the case before us.
Now in the evidence of Christianity there seem to be
several things of great weight, not reducible to the head,
either of miracles, or the completion of prophecy, in the
common acceptation of the words. But these two are




CUAP. VI.]       FOR CHRISTIANITY.              243
its direct and fundamental proofs: and those other things,
however considerable they are, yet ought never to be
urged apart from its direct proofs, but always to be
joined with them.  Thus the evidence of Christianity
will be a long series of things, reaching, as it seems, from
the beginning of the world to the present time, of great
variety and compass, taking in both the direct and also the
collateral proofs; and making up, all of them together,
one argument: the conviction arising from which kind
of proof may be compared to what they call the effect
in architecture or other works of art; a result from a
great number of things so and so disposed, and taken
into one view.  I shall therefore, first, make some
observations relating to miracles, and the appearing
completions of prophecy; and consider what analogy
suggests, in answer to the objections brought against
this evidence. And, secondly, I shall endeavour to give
some account of the general argument now mentioned,
consisting both of the direct and collateral evidence,
considered as making up one argument: this being tle
kind of proof, upon which we determine most questions
of difficulty, concerning common facts, alleged to have
happened, or seeming likely to happen; especially questions relating to conduct.
First, I shall make some observations upon the direct
proof of Christianity from miracles and prophecy, and
upon the objections alleged against it.
I. Now the following observations relating to the historical evidence of miracles wrought in attestation of
Christianity appear to be of great weight.
1. The Old Testament affords us the same historical
evidence of the miracles of Moses and of the prophets,
as of the common civil history of Moses and the kings
of Israel; or, as of the affairs of the Jewish nation. And
the Gospels and the Acts afford us the same historical
evidence of the miracles of Christ and the Apostles, as
of the common matters related in them. This indeed
could not have been affirmed by any reasonable man, if
the authors of these books, like many other historians,
had appeared to make an entertaining manner of writing their aim; thoughl they had interspersed miracles in
Q2




21:4       OF TIHE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE        [PART It.
their wor;ks, at proper distances and upon proper occasions.  These might have animated a dull relation,
amused the reader, and engaged his attention. And the
same account would naturally have been given of them,
as of the speeches and descriptions of such authors: the
same account, in a manner, as is to be given, why the
poets make use of wonders and prodigies. But the
facts, both miraculous and natural, in Scripture, are
related in plain unadorned narratives: and both of them
appear, in all respects, to stand upon the same foot of
historical evidence.  Further: some parts of Scripture,
containing an account of miracles fully sufficient to prove
the truth of Christianity, are quoted as genuine, from
the age in which they are said to be written, down to
the present: and no other parts of them, material in the
present question, are omitted to be quoted in such manner, as to afford any sort of proof of their not being
genuine.  And, as common history, when called in
question in any instance, may often be greatly confirmed
by contemporary or subsequent events more known and
acknowledged; and as the common Scripture history,
like many others, is thus confirmed; so likewise is the
miraculous history of it, not only in particular instances,
but in general.  For, the establishment of the Jewish and
Christian religions, which were events contemporary with
the miracles related to be wrought in attestation of both,
or subsequent to them, these events are just what we
should have expected, upon supposition such miracles
were really wrought to attest the truth of those religions.
These miracles are a satisfactory account of those events:
of which no other satisfactory account can be given; nor
any account at all, but what is imaginary merely, and
invented.  It is to be added, that the most obvious, the
most easy and direct account of this history, how it came
to be written and to be received in the worid, as a true
history, is, that it really is so: nor can any other account
of it be easy and direct. Now, though an account, not
at all obvious, but very far-fetched and indirect, may
indeed be, and often is, the true account of a matter;
yet it cannot be admitted on the authority of its being
asserted.  XM ere guess, supposition, and  possibility,




t~ar. VI.]      FOR CHRISTIANITY.                245
when opposed to historical evidence, prove nothing, hut
that historical evidence is not demonstrative.
Now the just consequence from all this, I think, is,
that the Scripture-listory in general is to be admitted as
an authentic genuine history, till somewhat positive be
alleged sufficient to invalidate it. But no man will deny
the consequence to be, that it cannot be rejected, or
thrown by as of no authority, till it can be proved to be
of none; even though the evidence now mentioned for
its authority were doubtful. This evidence may be confronted by historical evidence on the other side, if there
be any: or general incredibility in the things related, or
inconsistence in the general turn of the history, would
prove it to be of no authority.  But since, upon the face
of the matter, upon a first and general view, the appearance is, that it is an authentic history; it cannot be determined to be fictitious without some proof that it is so.
And the following observations in support of these, and
coincident with them, will greatly confirm the historical
evidence for the truth of Christianity.
2. The Epistles of St Paul, from the nature of epistolarv writing, and moreover from several of them being
written, not to particular persons, but to churches, carry
in them evidences of their being genuine, beyond what
can be in a mere historical narrative, left to the world at
large. This evidence, joined with that which they have
in common with the rest of the New Testament, seems
not to leave so much as any particular pretence for denying their genuineness, consid-red as an ordinary matter
of fact, or of criticism: I say particular pretence, for
denying it; because any single fact, of such a kind and
such antiquity, may have yeneraldoubts raised concerning it, from the very nature of human affairs and human,
testimony. There is also to be mentioned a distinct and
particular evidence of the genuineness of the epistle
chiefly referred to here, the first to the Corinthians; from
the manner in which it is quoted by Clemens Romanus,
in an epistle of his own to that church.* Now these
epistles afford a proof of Christianity, detached from all
* Clem. Rom. Ep. 1. c. 47.




246         OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE            [PAR? If
others, which is, I think, a thing of weight; and also a
proof of a nature and kind peculiar to ittelf. For,
In them the author declares, that he received the Gos.
pel in general, and the institution of the Communion is
particular, not from the rest of tile Apostles, or jointly
together with them, but alone, from Christ himself;
whom he declares likewise, conformably to the history
in the Acts, that he saw after his ascension.* So that
the testimony of St Paul is to be considered, as detached
from that of the rest of the Apostles.
And he declares further, that he was endued with a
power of working miracles, as what was publicly known
to those very people, speaks of frequent and great variety
of miraculous. gifts as then subsisting in those very
churches, to which he was,-:ting; which he was reproving for seveiral irregula, les; and where he had
personal opposers: he menti( is these gifts incidentally,
in the most easy manner, and without effort; by way of
reproof to those who had them, for their indecent use of
them; and by way of depreciating them, in comparison
of moral virtues: in short he speaks to these churches,
of these miraculous powers, in the manner, any one
would speak to another of a thing, which was as familiar
and as much known in common to them both, as any
thing in the world.t And this, as hath been observed
by several persons, is surely a very considerable thing.
3. It is an acknowledged historical fact, that Christianity offered itself to the world, and demanded to be received, upon the allegation, i. e. as unbelievers would
speak, upon the pretence, of miracles, publicly wrought
to attest the truth of it, in such an age; and that it was
actually received by great numbers in that very age, and
upon the professed belief of the reality of these miracles.
And Christianity, including the dispensation of the Old
Testament, seems distinguished by this from all other
religions. I mean, that this does not appear to be the
case with regard to any other; for surely it will not be
supposed to lie upon any person, to prove by positive
*Gal. i. I Cor. xi. 23, &c. I Cor. xv. 8.   -    Rom. xv. 19. 1 Cor. xii. 8, 9,
10 —28, &c. and xiii. 1, 2, 8. n ad the whole xivth chapter. 2 Cor. xii. 12. 13. Gal
lti. 2, 5.




CHAP. VII.]       FOR CHRISTIANITY.               247
historical evidence, that it was not.  It does in no sort
appear that Mahometanisin was first received in the
world upon the foot of supposed miracles,' i. e. public
ones: for, as revelation is itself miraculous, all pretence
to it must necessarily imply some pretence of miracles.
And it is a known fact, that it was immediately, at the
very first, propagated by other means. And as particular institutions, whether in Paganism or Popery, said
to be confirmed by miracles after those institutions had
obtained, are not to the purpose: so, were there what
might b2 called historical proof, that any of them  were
introduced by a supposed divine command, believed to
be attested by miracles; these would not be in any wise
parallel. For single things of this sort are easy to be
accounted for, after parti- -are formed, and have power
i:l their hands; and the } 1ders of themn are in veneration
with. the multitude; and.olitical interests are blended
with religious claims, and religious distinctions.  But before any thing of this kind, for a few persons, and those
of the lowest rank, all at once, to bring over such great
numbers to a new religion, and get it to be received
upon the particular evidence of miracles; this is quite
another thing. And I think it will be allowed by any
fair adversary, that the fact now mentioned, taking in all
the circumstances of it, is peculiar to the Christian religion. However, the fact itself is allowed, that Christianity
obtained, i. e. was professed to be received in the world,
upon the belief of miracles, immediately in the age in
which it is said those miracles were wrought: or that
this is what its first converts would have alleged, as the
reason for their embracing it.  Now certainly it is not to
be supposed that such numbers of men, in the most distant parts of the world should forsake the religion of
their country, in which they had been educated; separate themselves from their friends, particularly in their
festival shows and solemnities, to which the colmmon
people are so greatly addicted, and which were of a na-!ure to engage them much more, than any thing of that
sort amongst us; and embrace a religion, which could
not but expose them  to many inconveniences, and in* See the Koran, c. xiii. and c. xvff.




248        OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE        [A2T n.
deed must have been a giving up the world in a great
degree, even from the very first, and before the empire
engaged in form against them: it cannot be supposed,
that such numbers should make so great, and, to say the
least, so inconvenient a change in their whole institution
of life, unless they were really convinced of the truth ok
those miracles, upon the knowledge or belief of which
they professed to make it. And it will, I suppose, readily
be acknowledged, that the generality of the first converts
to Christianity must have believed them: that as by becoming Christians they declared to the world, they were
satisfied of the truth of those miracles; so this declaration was to be credited. And this their testimony is the
same kind of evidence for those miracles, as if they had
put it in writing, and these writings had come down to
us. And it is real evidence, because it is of facts, which
they had capacity and full opportunity to inform themselves of.  It is also distinct from the direct or express
historical evidence, though it is of the same kind: and it
would be allowed to be distinct in all cases.  For were
a fact expressly related by one or more ancient historians, and disputed in after ages; that this fact is acknowledged to have been believed by great numbers of the
age in which the historian says it was done, would be
allowed an additional proof of such fact, quite distinct
from the express testimony of the historian. The credulity of mankind is acknowledged: and the suspicions
of mankind ought to be acknowledged too; and their
backwardness even to believe, and greater still to practise, what makes against their interest.  And it must
particularly be remembered, that education, and prejudice,
and authority, were against Christianity, in the age I am
speaking of. So that the immediate conversion of such
numbers is a real presumption of somewhat more than
human in this matter: I say presumption, for it is not
alleged as a proof alone and by itself. Nor need any one
of the things mentioned in this Chapter be considered
as a proof by itself: and yet all of them together may be
one of the strongest.'
Upon the whole: as there is large historical evidence,
* P. 273, &c.




1. VII.]          FOR CHRISTIANITY.                249
both direct and circumstantial, of miracles wrought in
attestation of Christianity, collected by those who have
writ upon the subject; it lies upon unbelievers to show,
why this evidence is not to be credited. This way of
speaking is, I think, just; and what persons who write
in defence of religion naturally fall into. Yet, in a matter
of such unspeakable importance, the proper question is,
not whom it lies upon, according to the rules of argument, to maintain or confute objections: but whether
there really are any, against this evidence, sufficient, in
reason, to destroy the credit of it. However, unbelievers
seem to take upon them the part of showing that there
are.
They allege, that numberless enthusiastic people, in
different ages and countries, expose themselves to the
same difficulties which the primitive Christians did; and
are ready to give up their lives for the most idle follies
imaginable.  But it is not very clear, to what purpose"
this objection is brought.  For every one, surely, in
every case, must distinguish between opinions and facts.
And though testimony is no proof of enthusiastic opinions, or of any opinions at all; yet it is allowed, in all
other cases, to be a proof of facts. And a person's laying down his life in attestation of facts or of opinions,
is the strongest proof of his believing them. And if the
Apostles and their contemporaries did believe the facts,
in attestation of which they exposed themselves to sufferings and death; this their belief, or rather knowledge,
must be a proof of those facts: for they were such as
came under the observation of their senses. And though
it is not of equal weight, yet it is of weight, that the
martyrs of the next age, notwithstanding they were not
eye-witnesses of those facts, as were the Apostles and
their contemporaries, had, however, full opportunity to
inform themselves, whether they were true or not, and
gave equal proof of their believing them to be true.
But enthusiasm, it is said, greatly weakens the evidence of testimony even for facts, in matters relatiing to
religion: some seem to think it totally and absolutely
destroys the evidence of testimony upon this subject.
And indeed the powers of enithusiasm, and of diseases




250        OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE         [PART II1
too, which operate in a like manner, are very wonderful,
in particular instances. But if great numbers of men,
not appearing in any peculiar degree weak, nor under
any peculiar suspicion of negligence, affirm that they
saw and heard such things plainly with their eyes and
their ears, and are admitted to be in earnest; such testimony is evidence of the strongest kind we can have, for
any matter of fact.  Yet possibly it may be overcome,
strong as it is, by incredibility in the things thus attested, or by contrary testimony. And in an instance where
one thought it was so overcome, it might be just to consider, how far such evidence could be accounted for, by
enthusiasm; for it secms as if no other imaginable account were to be given of it. But till such incredibility
be shown, or contrary testimony produced, it cannot
surely be'expected, that so far-fetched, so indirect and
wonderful an account of such testimony, as that of enthusiasm must be; an account so strange, that the generality of mankind can scarce be made to understand what
is meant by it: it cannot, I say, be expected, that such
account will be admitted of such evidence; when there
is this direct, easy, and obvious account of it, that people really saw and heard a thing not incredible, which
they affirm sincerely and with full assurance, they did
see and hear.  Granting then that enthusiasm  is not
(strictly speaking) an absurd, but a possible account of
such testimony; it is manifest, that the very mention of it
goes upon the previous supposition, that the things so
attested are incredible: and therefore need not be considered, till they are shown to be so.  Much less need it
be considered, after thie contrary has been proved. And
I think it has been proved, to full satisfaction, that there
is no incredibility in a revelation, in general; or in such
a one as the Christian, in particular.  However, as religion is supposed peculiarly liable to enthusiasm, it may
just be observed, that prejudices almost without number,
and without name, roriance, affectation, humour, a desire
to engage attention, or to surprise, the party spirit, custom,
little competitions, unaccountable likings and dislikinigs;
these influence men strongly in common matters.  And
as these prejudices are often scarce known or reflected




CLAP. Vnr.]       FOR CHRIST'ANTITY.             25I
upon l)y the persons themselves who are influenced by
them, they are to be considered as influences of a like
kind to enthusiasm.  Yet human testimony in common matters is naturally and justly believed notwithstanding.
It is intimated further, in a more refined way of observation, that though it should be proved, that the Apostles
and first Christians could not, in some respects, be deceived themselves, and, in other respects, cannot l)e
thought to have intended to impose upon the world; yet
it will not follow, that their general testimony is to be
believed, though truly handed down to us: because they
might still in part, i. e. in other respects, be deceived
themselves, and in part also designedly impose upon
others; which, it is added, is a thing very credible, from
that mixture of' real enthusiasm, and real knavery, to be
met with in the same characters. And, I must confess,
I think the matter of fact contained in this observation
upon mankind is not to be denied; and that somewhat
very much akin to it is often supposed in Scripture as a
very common case, and most severely reproved. But it
were to have been expected, that persons capable of
applying this observation as applied in the objection,
might also frequently have met with the like mixed character, in instances where religion was quite out of the
case.  The thing plainly is, that mankind are naturally
endued with reason, or a capacity of distinguishing between truth and falsehood; and as naturally they are
endued with veracity, or a regard to truth in what they
s'ay: but from many occasions they are liable to be prejudiced and biassed and deceived themselves, and capable of intending to deceive others, in every degree: insomuch that, as we are all liable to be deceived by pre..
judice, so likewise it seems to be not an uncommon thing,
for persons, who, from their regard to truth, would not
invent a lie entirely without any foundation at all, to
propagate it with heightening circumstances, after it is
once invented and set agoing. And others, though they
would not propagate a lie, yet, which is a lower degree
of falsehood, will let it pass without contradiction.  But,
notwithstanding all this, h -?nan testimony remains still a




252        OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE        rPARr IT.
natural ground of assent; and this assent a natural prin.
ciple of action.
It is objected further, that however it has happened,
the fact is, that mankind have, in different ages, been
strangely deluded with pretences to miracles and'wonders.  But it is by no means to be admitted, that they
have been oftener, or are at all more liable to be deceived
by these pretences, than by others.
It is added, that there is a very considerable degree of
historical evidence for miracles, which are, on all hands,
acknowledged to be fabulous. But suppose there were
eveni the like historical evidence for these, to what there
is for those alleged in proof of Christianity, which yet is
in no wise allowed, but suppose this; the consequence
would not be, that the evidence of the latter is not to be
admitted. Nor is there a man in the world, who, in
common cases, would conclude thus. For what would
such a conclusion really amount to but this, that evidence,
confuted by contrary evidence, or any way overbalanced,
destroys the credibility of other evidence, neither confuted, nor overbalanced P To argue, that because there
is, if there were, like evidence from testimony, for miracles acknowledged false, as for those in attestation of
Christianity, therefore the evidence in the latter case is
not to be credited; this is the same as to argue, that if
two men of equally good reputation had given evidence
in different cases no wav connected, and one of them
had been convicted of perjury, this confuted the testimony of the other.
Upon the whole then, the general observation, that
human creatures are so liable to be deceived, from enthusiasm in religion, and principles equivalent to enthusiasm in common matters, and in both from negligence;
and that they are so capable of dishonestly endeavouring
to deceive others; this does indeed weaken the evidence
of testimony in all cases, but does not destroy it in any.
And these things will appear, to different men, to weaken
the evidence of testimony, in different degrees: in degrees proportionable to the observations they have mLde,
or the notions they have any way taken up, concerring
the weakness and negligence and dishonesty of mus




Cn.AP. VI[.]     FOR CHRISTIANITY.              2'53
kind; or concerning the powers of enthusiasm, and prejudices equivalent to it. But it seems to me, that people do not know what they say, who affirm these things
to destroy the evidence from testimony, which we have
of the truth of Christianity.  Nothing can destroy the
evidence of testimony in any case, but a proof or probability, that persons are not competent judges of the
facts to which they give testimony; or that they are
actually under some indirect influence in giving it, in
such particular case. Till this be made out, the natural
laws of human actions require, that testimony be admitted.  It can never be sufficient to overthrow direct
historical evidence, indolently to say, that there are so
many principles, from whence men are liable to be deceived themselves, and disposed to deceive others, especially in matters of religion, that one knows not what to
believe. And it is surprising persons can help reflecting, that this very manner of speaking supposes they
are not satisfied that there is nothing in the evidence,
of which they speak thus; or that they can avoid observing, if they do make this reflection, that it is on such a
subject, a very material one.*
And over against all these objections is to be set the
importance of Christianity, as what must have engaged
the attention of its first converts, so as to have rendered
them less liable to be deceived from carelessness, than
they would in common matters; and likewise the strong
obligations to veracity, which their religion laid them
under: so that the first and most obvious piresumption
is, that they could not be deceived themselves nor deceive others.  And this presumption, in this degree, is
peculiar to the testimony we have been considering.
In argument, assertions are nothing in themselves,
and have an air of positiveness which sometimes is not
very easy: yet they are necessary, and necessary to be
repeated; in order to connect a discourse, and distinctly
to lay before the view of the reader, what is proposed to
be proved, and what is left as proved. Now the conclu.
sion from the foregoing observations is, I think, beyond
all doubt, this: that unbelievers must be forced to admit
*See the for:'go'!g Clapter.




254        OF THE PARTICULAR EVfDENCE.       [PAR? IXL
the external evidence for Christianity, i. e. the proof of
miracles wrought to attest it, to be of real weight and very
considerable; though they cannot allow it to be sufficient,
to convince them of the reality of those miracles.  And
as they must, in all reason, admit this; so it seems to
me, that upon consideration they would, in fact, admit
it; those of them, I mean, who know any thing at all of
the matter; in like manner as persons, in many cases,
own they see strong evidence from testimony, for the
truth of things, which yet they cannot be convinced are
true: cases, suppose, where there is contrary testimony;
or things which they think, whether with or without
reason, to be incredible.  But there is no testimony
contrary to that which we have been considering: and
it has been fully proved, that there is no incredibility in
Christianity in general, or in any part of it.
II. As to the evidence for Christianity from prophecy,
I shall only make some few general observations, which
are suggested by the Analogy of Nature; i. e. by the acknowledged natural rules of judging in common matters,
concerning evidence of a like kind to this from prophecy.
1. The obscurity or unintelligibleness of one part of
a prophecy does not, in any degree, invalidate the proof
of foresight, arising from the appearing completion of
those other parts, which are understood. For the case
is evidently the same, as if those parts, which are not
understood, were lost, or not written at all, or written in
an unknown tongue. Whether this observation be commonly attended to or not, it is so evident, that one can
scarce bring oneself to set down an instance in common
matters, to exemplify it.  However, suppose a writing,
partly in cipher, and partly in plain words at length; and
that in the part one understood, there appeared mention
of several known facts; it would never come into any
man's thoughts to imagine, that if he understood the whole,
perhaps he might find, that those facts were not in reality
known by the writer. Indeed, both in this example and
the thing intended to be exemplified by it, our not understanding the whole (the whole, suppose, of a sentence or
a paragraph) might sometimes occasion a doubt, whether




CRar. VH.]       FOR CHRISTIANITY.               255
one understood the literal meaning of such a part: but
this comes under another consideration.
For the same reason, though a man should be incapable, for want of learning, or opportunities of inquiry, or
from not having turned his studies this way, even so
mulch as to judge whether particular prophecies have
been throughout completely fulfilled; yet he may see, in
general, that they have been fulfilled to such a degree,
as, upon very good ground, to be convinced of foresight
more than human in such prophecies, and of such
events being intended by them. For the same reason
also, though, by means of the deficiencies in civil history,
and the different accounts of historians, the most learned
should not be able to make out to satisfaction, that such
parts of the prophetic history have been minutely and
througchout fillfilled; yet a very strong proof of foresight
may arise, from that general completion of them, which
is made out: as much proof of foresight, perhaps, as the
giver of prophecy intended should ever be afforded by
such parts of prophecy.
2. A long series of prophecy being applicable to such
and such events, is itself a proof that it was intended
of them: as the rules by which we naturally judge and
determine, in common cases parallel to this, will show.
This observation I make in answer to the common
objection against the application of the prophecies, that,
considering each of them distinctly by itself, it does not
at all appear, that they were intended of those particular
events, to which they are applied by Christians; and
therefore it is to be supposed, that, if they meant aiiy
thing, they were intended of other events unknown to
us, and not of these at all.
Now there are two kinds of writing, which bear a
great resemblance to prophecy, with respect to the matter before us: the mythological, and the satirical, where
the satire is, to a certain degree, concealed.  And a man
might be assured, that he understood what an author
intended by a fable or parable related without any application or moral, merely from seeing it to be easily capable of such application, and that such a moral might
naturally be deduced from it..nd he might be filly




25 6       OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE         [PAa? 11
assured, that such persons and events were intended
in a satirical writing, merely from its being applicable
to them.  And, agreeable to the last observation, he
might be in a good measure satisfied of it, thoughllhe
were not enough informed in affairs, or in the story
of such persons to understand half the satire.  For,
his satisfaction, that he understood the meaning, the
intended meaning, of these writings, would be greater
or less in proportion as he saw the general turn of
them to be capable of such application; and in proportion to the number of particular things capable of it.
And thus, if a long series of prophecy is applicable to
the present state of the church, and to the political situations of the kingdoms of the world, some thousand
years after these prophecies were delivered, and a long
series of prophecy delivered before the coming of Christ
is applicable to him; these things are in themselves a
proof, that the prophetic history was intended of him,
and of those events: in proportion as the general turn
of it is capable of such application, and to the number
and variety of particular prophecies capable of it.  And
though, in all just way of consideration, the appearing
completion of prophecies is to be allowed to be thus
explanatory of, and to determine, their meaning; yet it
is to be remembered further, that the ancient Jews apt
plied the prophecies to a Messiah before his coming, in
much the same manner as Christians do now: and that
the primitive Christians interpreted the prophecies respecting, the state of the church and of the world inl thc
last ages, in the sense which the event seems to conrfirm
and verify.  And from these things it may be mnade
appear:
3. That the showing even to a high probability, if
that could be, that the prophets thought of some other
events, in such and such predictions, and not those at
all which Christians allege to be completions of those
predictions; or that such and such prophecies are capable of being applied to other events than those, to which
Christians apply them-that this would not confute or
destroy the force of the argument from prophecy, even
with regard to those very instances.  For, ob.serve how




cuAP, VII.]      FOR CHsII-SrIANITY.          257
this matter really is. If one knew such a person to be
the sole author of such a book, and was certainly assured,
or satisfied to any degree, that one knew the whole of
what he intended in it; one should be assured or satisfied to such degree, that one knew the whole meaning
of that book: for the meaning of a book is nothing but
the meaning of the author. But if one knew a person
to have compiled a book out of memoirs, which he received from another, of vastly superior knowledge in the
subject of it, especially if it were a book full of great
intricacies and difficulties; it would in no wise follow,
that one knew the whole meaning of the book, from
knowing the whole meaning of the compiler: for the
original memoirs, i. e. the author of them, might have,
and there would be no degree of presumption, in many
cases, against supposing him  to have, some further
meaning than the compiler saw. To say then, that the
Scriptures, and the things contained in them, can have
i-o other or further meaning than those persons thought
or had, who first recited or wrote them, is evidently
saying, that those persons were the original, proper, and
sole authors of those books, i. e. that they are not inspired: which is absurd, whilst the authority of these
books is under examination; i. e. till you have determined thev are of no divine authority at all. Till this
be determined, it must in all reason be supposed, not
indeed that they have, for this is taking for granted that
they are inspired; but that they may have, some further
meaning than what the compilers saw or understood.
And, upon this supposition, it is supposable also, that
this further meaning mav be fulfilled. Now events corresponding to prophecies, interpreted in a different meaning
from that, in which the prophets are supposed to have
understood them; this affords, in a manner, the same proof,
that this different sense was originally intended, as it
would have afforded, if the prophets had not understood
their predictions in the sense it is supposed they did
because there is no presumption of their' sense of them
b)eing the whole sense of them. And it has been already shown, that the apparent completions of prophecy
must be allowed to be explanatory of its meaning.  St
1R4




258          OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE            TPAR? II.
that the question is, whether a series of prophecy has
been fulfilled, in a natural or proper, i. e. in any real
sense of the words of it. For such completion is equally
a proof of foresight more than human, whether the prophets are, or are not, supposed to have understood it in
a different sense. I say, supposed: for, though I think
it clear, that the prophets did not understand the full
meaning of their pledictions; it is another question, how
far they thought they did, and in what sense they understood them.
Hence may be seen, to how little purpose those persons busy themselves, who endeavour to prove, that the
prophetic history is applicable to events of the age in
which it was written, or of ages before it. Indeed to
have proved this, before there was any appearance of a
further completion of it, might have answered some purpose; for it might'have prevented the expectation of any
such further completion.  Thus could Porphyry have
shown, that some principal parts of the book of Daniel
for instance, the seventh verse of the seventh chapter,
which the Christians interpreted of the latter ages, was
applicable to events, which'happened before or about the
age of Antiochus Epiphanes; this might have prevented
them from expecting any further completion of it. And,
unless there was then, as I think there must have been,
external evidence concerning that book, more than is
come down to us; such a discovery might have been a
stumbling-block in the way of Christianity itself: considering the authority which our Saviour has given to
the book of Daniel, and how much the general scheme
of Christianity presupposes the truth of it.  But even
this discovery, had there been any such,* would be of
very little weight with reasonable men now; if this
passage, thus applicable to events before the age of
Porphyry, appears to be applicable also to events, which
succeeded the dissolution  of the Roman  empire.  I
* It appears that Porphyry did nothing worth mentio;.ing in this way. For Jeroirm
on the place says: Duas posteriores bestias-in uno Macedonum regno ponit. Ar4
Is to the ten kings; Decein reges etnumerat. qui fueruni scevissinzi: ipsosque regee
*jX Mtnius ponit regni. verbi gratia, l'acedonice, Syrie, Asite, et.Egypti; sed de
fdi,,ie,'eg'nis ununz efficit resum ortlinemn. And in this way of intei pretatiok, any
shlimg rmay he mtade of allny thing.




Csyv V1I.]       FOR CHRISTIANITY.                259
mention this, not at all as intending to insir.uate, that
tihe division of this empire into ten parts, for it plainly
was divided into about that number, were, alone and by
itself, of any moment inl verifyincg the prophetic history-:
but only as an example of the thing I am  spealiincg of.
And thus upon the whole, the matter of inquiry evidentlyr
must be, as above put, Wliether the prophecies are applicable to Christ, and to the present state of the world,
and of the church; a!pplicable in such a degree, as to imply foresighit: not whether they are capable of any otlher
application; though I lknow no pretence for sayilng tlhe
general turn of them is capable of any other.
These observations are, I think, just; and the evidence
referred to in them  real: though there may be people
who will not accept of such imperfect imformation from
Scripture.  Some too have not integrity and regafrd
enough to truth, to attend to evidence, which keeps the
mind in doubt, perhaps perplexity, and which is mucll
of a different sort from  what thev expected.  And it
plainly requires a degree of modesty and fairness, beyond what every one has, for a man to say, not to the
world, but to himself, that there is a real appearance of
somewhat of great weight in this matter, thoulgh he is
not able thoroulghly to satisfyT himself about it; but it
shall have its influence upon him, in proportion to its
appearing reality and weighllt.  It is much more easy,
and more falls in with the negligence, presumption, and
wilfiulness of the generality, to determine at once, with a
decisive air, There is nothing in it.  The prejudices
arising from  that absolute contempt and scorn, with
which this evidence is treated in the world, I do not
mention.  For what indeed can be said to persons, who
are weak enoulgh in their understandings to think this
any presumption against it, or, if they do not, are yet
weak enough in their temper to be inflaenced by such
prejudices, upon suchl  a subjectP
I shall now, Secondlly, endeavour to give some account
of the general argument for the truth of Christianiity,
consisting both of th  direct and circumstantial evidence
considered as making utlp one argument. Indeed to state
and examine this argum nent fully, would be a work mucll
II ~




260         OF TIlE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE       [asAS II,
beyond the compass of this whole treatise; nor is so
much as a proper abridgment of it to be expected here.
Yet the present subject requires to have some brief account of it given. For it is the kind of evidence, upon
which most questions of difficulty, in common practice,
are determined: evidence arising from various coincidences, which support and confirm each other, andin
this manner prove, with more or less certainty, the
point under consideration. And I choose to do it also:
First, because it seems to be of the greatest importance,
and not duly attended to by every one, that the proof of
revelation is, not some direct and express things only,
but a great variety of circumstantial things also; and that
though each of these direct and circumstantial things is
indeed to be considered separately, yet they are afterwards to be joined together; for that the proper force of
the evidence consists in the result of those several things,
considered in their respects to each other, and united
into one view: and in the next place, because it seems
to me, that the matters of fact here set down, which are
acknowledged by unbelievers, must be acknowledged by
them also to contain together a degree of evidence of
great weight, if they could be brought to lay these several
things before themselves distinctly, and then with attention consider them together; instead of that cursory
thought of them, to which we are familiarized.  For
being familiarized to the cursory thought of things as
really hinders the weight of them from being seen, as
from having its due influence upon practice.
The thing asserted, and the truth of which is to be inquired into, is this: That over and above our reason and
affections, which God has given us for the information of
our judgment and the conduct of our lives, he has also,
by external revelation, given us an account of himself
anid his moral go~vernment over the world, implying a
fiture state of re'wards and punishments; i. e. hath revealed the system of natural religion: for natural religion
may be externally' revealed by God, as the ignorant may
be taught it by mankind, their fellow creatures-that
God, I say, has given us the evidcnce of revelation, as
* P. 166, &c.




ar. VII.]       FOR CHRISTIANITY.               261
well as the evidence of reason, to ascertain this moral
system; together with an account of a particular dispensation of Providence, which reason could no way have
discovered, and a particular institution of religion founded
on it, for the recovery of mankind out of their present
wretched condition, and raising them to the perfection
and final happiness of their nature.
This revelation, whether real or supposed, may be
considered as wholly historical. For prophecy is nothing
but the history of events before they come to pass; doctrines also are matters of fact; and precepts come under
the same notion. And the general design of Scripture,
which contains in it this revelation, thus considered as
historical, may be said to be, to give us an account of
the world, in this one single view, as God's world: by
which it appears essentially distinguished from all other
books, so far as I have found, except such as are copied
from it. It begins with an account of God's creation of
the world, in order to ascertain, and distinguish from all
others, who is the object of our worship, by what he has
done: in order to ascertain, who he is, concerning whose
providence, commands, promises, and threatenings, this
sacred book, all along, treats; the Maker and Proprietor
of the world, he whose creatures we are, the God of
Nature: in order likewise to distinguish him from the
idols of the nations, which are either imaginary beings,
i. e. no beings at all; or else part of that creation, the
historical relation of which is here given. And St John,
not improbably, with an eye to this Mosaic account of
the creation, begins his Gospel with an account of our
Saviour's pre-existence, and that all things were made by
him; and without him was not any thing made that was
made:* agreeably to the doctrine of St Paul, that God
created all things by Jesus Christ.t This being premised,
the Scripture, taken together, seems to profess to contain a kind of an abridgment of the history of the world,
in the view just now mentioned: that is, a general account of the condition of religion and its professors, d Iring the continuance of that apostasy from God, and state
of wickedness. which it every where supposes the world
* Jolhnl i. 3.  + Eph. iii. 9.




262         OF TIIE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE          (PARr il.
to lin in. And this account of the state of reiigion carries
with it some brief account of the political state of things,
as religion is affected by it. Revelation indeed considers
the common affairs of this world, and what is going on
in it, as a mere scene of distraction; and cannot be supposed to concern itself with foretelling at what time Rome,
or Babylon, or Greece, or any particular place, should be
the most conspicuous seat of that tyranny and dissoluteness, which all places equally aspire to be; cannot, I
say, be supposed to give any account of' this wild scene
for its own sake. But it seems to contain some very
general account of the chief governments of the world,
as the general state of religion has' been, is, or shall be,
affected by them, from the first transgression, and during
the whole interval of the world's continuing in its present state, to a certain future period, spoken of both in
the Old and New  Testament, very distinctly, and in
great variety of expression: The times of the restitution of
all things:' when the mystery of God s/hall be finished, as
he hath declared to his servants the prophets:t when the
God of heaven shall set up a kingdom, which shall never be
destroyed: and the kingdom  shall not be left to other
people,t as it is represented to be during this apostasy, but
judgment shall be given to the saints,~ and they shall
reign:11 and the kingdom  and dominion, and the greatness
of the kingdom under the whole heaven, shall be given to
the people of the saints of the Most Hith.~
Upon this general view of the Scripture, I would remark, how great a length of time the whole relation
takes up, near six thousand years of which are past; and
how great a variety of things it treats of; the natural and
moral system or history of the world, including the time
when it was formed, all contained in the very'first book,
an(l evidently written in a rude and unlearned age; and
in subsequent books, the various common and prophetic
history, and the particular dispensation of Christianity.
Now all this together gives the largest scope for criticism;
ind for confutation of what is capable of being confuted,
either from reason, or from common history, or from any
* Acts iii. 21..Rev, x. 7.:   Dan. ii. 44.
~ Dan. vii. 22.  j Rev. xi. 17, 18. xx. 6. ~ Dan. vii. 27.




CHV.. VIL        FOR CHRISTIANITY,                263
inconsistence in its several parts. And it is a thing which
deserves, I think, to be mentioned, that whereas some
imagine the supposed doubtfulness of the evidence for
revelation implies a positive argument that it is not true;
it appears, on the contrary, to imply a positive argu.
m-i'-t that it is trllw.  For, could any common relation of
such antiquity, extent, and variety (for in these things
the stress of what I am now observing lies), be proposed
to the examination of the world: that it could not, in
an age of knowledge and liberty, be confuted, or shown
to have nothing in it, to the satisfaction of reasonable
meln; this would be thought a strong presumptive proof
of its truth.  And indeed it must be a proof of it, just
in proportion to the probability, that if it were false, it
might be shown to be so: and this, I think, is scarce
pretended to be shown, but upon principles and in ways
of arguing, which have been clearly obviated.*  Nor
does it at all appear, that any set of men, who believe
natural religion, are of the opinion, that Christianity has
been thus confuted.  But to proceed:
Together with the moral system of the world, the Old
Testament contains a chronological account of the beginning of it, and from thence, an unbroken genealogy
of mankind for many ages before common history begins; and carried on as much farther as to make up a
continued thread of history of the length of between three
and four thousand vears.  It contains an account of
God's making a covenant with a particular nation, that
they should be his people, and he would be their God,
in a peculiar sense; of his often interposing miraculously
in their affairs; giving them the promise, and, long after,
the possession, of a particular country; assuring them oi
the greatest national prosperity in it, if they would worship him, in opposition to the idols which the rest of the
world worshipped, and obey his commands; and threatc:ing  them  with unexampled punishments if they disobeyed him, and fell into the general idolatry: insomuch
that this one nation should continue to be the observation and the wonder of all the world.  It declares particularly, that God woudd scatter them among all peopk,
*  Ch. ii. iii. &c.




264         OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE         [PART II
front one end of the earth unto the other; but that whten
they should return unto the Lord their God, he would have
compassion upon them, and gather them from all the nations,
w'Ahither he had scattered them: that Israel should be saved
/i the Lord, with an everlasting salvation; and not be,'s hamed or confounded world without end.  And as some
of these promises are conditional, others are as absolute,
as any thing can be expressed: that the time should come,
when the people should be all righteous, and inherit the
land for ever: that though God would make a full end of
all nations whither he had scattered them, yet would he not
make a full end of them: that he would bring again the
captivity of his people Israel, and plant them upon their
land, and they should be no more pulled up out of their
land: that the seed of Israel should not cease from being a
nation for ever.* It.t retells, that (God would raise them
Up a particular perst, i, in whom all his'promlises should
finally be fulfilled; the Messiah, who should be, in a
high and eminent sense, their anointed Prince and
Saviour. This was foretold in such a manner, as raised
a general expectation of such a person in the nation, as
appears from the New Testament, and is an acknowledged fact; an expectation of his coming'at such a particular time, before any one appeared claiming to be that
person, and when there was no ground for such an expectation, but from  the prophecies: which expectation,
therefore, must in all reason be presumed to be explanatory of those prophecies, if there were any doubt about
their meaning. It seems moreover to foretell, that this
person should be rejected by that nation, to whom he
had been so long promised, and though he was so much
desired by them.t And' it expressly foretells, that he
should be the Saviour of the Gentiles; and even that
the completion of the scheme contained in this book, and
then begun, and in its progress, should be somewhat so
great, that in comparison with it, the restoration of the
Jews alone would be but of small account.  It is a light
thing that thou shouldest be my servant to raise up thi
* Deut. xxviii. 64. xxx. 2, 3. Is. xlv. 17. Ix. 21. Jer. xxx. 11. xlvi. 28. Amt
E. 14, 15.  Jer. xxxi.:'6.
$ Is. viii 14, 15. xlix, 5  chl. liii.  Mal. i. 10, 11. and ch. iii,




CUaP. Vl.]         FOR CHIlRiSTILANiTY.             265
tribes of Jacob, and to restore the preserved of Israel: I
will also give thee for a light to the Gentiles, that thou
mayest be for salvation unto the end of the earth. And, In
the last days, the mountain of the Lord's house shall be
established in the top of the mountains, and shall be exalted
above the hills; and all nations shallflow into it-for out
of Zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the Lord
from Jerusalem. And he shall judge among the nations —
and the Lord alone shall be exalted in that day, and the
idols he shall utterly abolish.' The Scripture further contains an account, that at the time the Messiah was expected, a person rose up in this nation, claiming to be
that Messiah, to be the person whom all the prophecies
referred to, and in whom they should centre: that he
spent some years in,a:continued course of miraculous
works; and endued his immediate di:iples and followers
with a power of doing the same, as. proof of the truth
of that religion, which he commissioned them to publish:
that, invested with this authority and power, they made
numerous converts in the remotest countries, and settled
and established his religion in the world; to the end of
which the Scripture professes to give a prophetic account
of the state of this religion amongst mankind.
Let us now suppose a person utterly ignorant of history, to hlave all this related to him out of the Scripture.
Or suppose such a one, having the Scripture put into his
hands, to remark these things in it, not knowing but that
the whole, even its civil history, as well as the other
parts of it, might be, from beginning to end, an entire
invention; and to ask, What truth was in it, and whether
the revelation here related was real, or a fiction  And,
instead of a direct answer, suppose him, all at once, to
be told the following confessed facts; and then to unite
them into one view.
Let him first be told, in how great a degree the profession and establishment of natural religion, the belief
that there is one God to be worshipped, that virtue is his
law, and that mankind shall be rewarded and punished
* Is. xlix. 6. chap. ii. chap. xi. chap. Ivi. 7. Mal. i. 11. To which must be
added, the other prophecies of theiJ like kindl, several in the New Testament, and
very many in the Old: Nbhich de-cril)i( wlat shall be the completion of the revealed
lani of Providence.




266         OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE        [PARr II1
k.ereafter, as they obey and disobey it here; in how very
g,'cat a degree, I say, the profession and establishment
of this moral system in the world is owing to the revelation' whether real or supposed, contained in this book:
the establishment of this moral system, even in those
countries which do not acknowledge the proper authority of the Scripture.*  Let him be told also, what number of nations do acknowledge its proper authority. Let
him then take in the consideration, of what importance
religion is to mankind. And upon these things he might,
I think, truly observe, that this supposed revelation's
obtaining and being received in the world, with all the
circumstances and effects of it, considered together as
one event, is the most conspicuous and inportant event
in the history of mankind: that a book of this nature,
and thus promulged and recommended to our consideration, demands, as if by a voice from heaven, to have its
claims most seriously examined into: and that, before
such examination, to treat it with any kind of scoffing
and ridicule, is an offence against natural piety. But
it is to be remembered, that how much soever the establishment of natural religion in the world is owing to the
Scripture revelation, this does not destroy the proof of
religion from reason, any more than the proof of Euclid's
Elements is destroyed, by a man's knowing or thinking,
that he should never have seen the truth of the several
propositions contained in it, nor had those propositions
come into his thoughts, but for that mathematician.
Let such a person as we are speaking of be, in the
next place, informed of the acknowledged antiquity of
the first parts of this book; and that its chronology, its
account of the time when the earth, and the several parts
of it, were first peopled with human creatures, is no way
contradicted, but is really confirmed, by the natural and
civil history of the world, collected from common historians, from the state of the earth, and from the late invention of arts and sciences.  And as the Scripture contains an unbroken thread of common and civil history,
f:om the creation to the captivity, for between three and
ioitar thousand years; let the person we are speakinlg of
P.. 2- 1?1




C~.~ v:T.l       FilR CHInIS'rTIANITY.           267
be told, in the next place, that this general hlistory, as it
is not contradicted, but is confirmed by profane history
as much as there would be reason to expect, upon supposition of its truth; so there is nothing in the whole
history itse7f, to give any reasonable ground of suspicionl
of its not being, in the general, a faithful and literally
true genealogy of men, and series of things.  I speak
here only of the common Scripture-history, or of the
course of ordinary events related in it, as distinguished
from miracles, and from the prophetic history. In all
the Scripture-narrations of this kind, following events
arise out of foregoing ones, as in all other histories.
There appears nothing related as done in any age, not
conformable to the manners of that age: nothing in the
account of a succeeding age, which, one would say, could
not be true, or was improbable, from the account of
things in the preceding one. There is nothing in the
characters, which would raise a thought of their being
feigned; but all the internal marks imaginable of their
being real. It is to be added also, that mere genealogies,
bare narratives of the number of years, which persons
called by such and such names lived, do not carry the
face of fiction; perhaps do carry some presumption ol
veracity: and all unadorned narratives, which have nothing to surprise, may be thought to carry somewhat of the
like presumption too. And the domestic and the political history is plainly credible.  There may be incidents
in Scripture, which, taken alone in the naked way they
are told, may appear strange; especially to persons of
other manners, temper, education: but there are also
incidents of undoubted truth, in many or most persons
lives. whi:rh, in the same circumstances, would appear
to the filll as strange.  There may be mistakes of transcribxers, there may be other real or seeming mistakes,
not easy to be particularly accounted for: but there are
certaniny no more things of this kind in the Scr'pture,
than what were to have been expected in books of such
antiquity; and nothing, in any wise, sufficient to discredit
the general narrative.  Now, that a history, clairning  to
comme:nce froryt the creation, and extending in one continued series, tllrouogh so great a lengtll ofi tilne, ad
2      117~~~~~~~~




268         OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE       [PART II
variety of events, should have such appearances of reality
and truth in its whole contexture, is surely a very remarkable circumstance in its favour. And as all this is
applicable to the common history of the New Testament,
so there is a further credibility, and a very high one,
given to it by profane authors: many of these writing ol
the same times, and confirming the truth of customs and
events, which are incidentally as well as more purposely
mentioned in it. And this credibility of the common
Scripture-llistory, gives some credibility to its miraculous history: especially as this is interwoven with the
common, so as that they imply each other, and both togcthcr make up one relation.
1.et it then be more particularly observed to this persen, that it is an acknowledged matter of facts which is
indeed implied in the foregoing observation, that there
was such a nation as the Jews, of the greatest antiquity,
whose government and general polity was founded on
the law, here related to be given them by Moses as from
heaven: that natural religion, though with rites additional
yet no way contrary to it, was their established religion,
which cannot be said of the Gentile world: and that
ti..cir very being as a. nation, depended upon their acl-Powledgment of one God, the God of the universe. For,
s,,,ppose in their captivity in Babylon, they had gone over
to the religion of their conquerors, there would have remained no bond of union, to keep them a distinct people.
And whilst they were under their own kings, in their
own country, a total apostasy from  God would have
been the dissolution of their whole government. They
in such a sense nationally acknowledged and worshipped
the Maker of heaven and earth, when the rest of the
world were sunk in idolatry, as rendered them, in fact,
the peculiar people of God.  And this so remarkable
an establishment and preservation of natural religion
amongst them, seems to add some peculiar credibility to
the historical evidence for the miracles of Moses and
Che Prophets: because these miracles are a full satisf:act:-ry account of this event, which plainly wants to be
ac2ulunted for, and cannot otherwise.
Let this person, supposed wholly ignorant of history,




CKAP VII1.       FOR CHRISTIANITY.              269
lie acquainted further, that one claiming to be the Messiah, of Jewish extraction, rose up at the time when this
nation, from the prophecies above mentioned, expected
the Messiah: that he was rejected, as it seemed to Ihave
been foretold he should, by the body of the people, under the direction of their rulers: that in the course of
a very few years, he was believed on and acknowledged
as the promised Messiah, by great numbers among the
Gentiles, agreeably to the prophecies of Scripture, yet
not upon the evidence of prophecy, but of miracles,' of
which miracles we have also strong historical evidence;
(by which I mean here no more than must be acknowledged by unbelievers; for let pious frauds and folliea
be admitted to weaken, it is absurd to say they destroy,
our evidence of miracles wrought in proof of Christianity:+) that this religion approving itself to the reason
of mankind, and carrying its own evidence with it, so
far as reason is a judge of its system, and being no way
contrary to reason in those parts of it which require to
be believed upon the mere authority of its Author; that
this religion, I say, gradually spread and supported itself
for some hundred years, not only without any assistance
from temporal power, but under constant discouragements, and often the bitterest persecutions from it;'and
then became the religion of the world: that in the mean
time the Jewish nation and government were destroyed
in a very remarkable manner, and the people carried
away captive and dispersed'through the most distant
countries; in which state of dispersion they have remained fifteen hundred years: and that they remain a
numerous people, united amongst themselves, and distinguished from the rest of the world, as they were in
the days of Moses, by the profession of his law; and
every where looked upon in a manner, which one scarce
knows how distinctly to e,,press, but in the words of the
prophetic account of it, given so many ages before it
came to pass: Thou shalt become an astonishment, a provcrb, and a by-word, among all nations whither the Lord,sI lead thee.t
The appearance of a standing miracle, in the Jews
* P. 246, &c.  t P. 252, &e.   t Deut. xxviii. 31.




270        OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE        PART I,.
remaining a distinct people in their dispersion, and the
confirmation which this event appears to give to the
truth of revelation, may be thought to be answered, by
their religion's forbidding them intermarriages with
those of any other, and prescribing them a great many
peculiarities in their food, by which they are debarred
fromn the means of' incorporating with the people in
whose countries they live. This is not, I think, a satisfactory account of that which it pretends to account for.
But what does it pretend to account for?  The correspondence between this event and the prophecies; or
the coincidence of both, with a long dispensation ol
Providence, of a peculiar nature, towards that people
formerly P  No.  It is only the event itself, which is
offered to be thus accounted for; which single event,
taken alone, abstracted from all such correspondence
and coincidence, perhaps would not have appeared miraculous: but that correspondence and coincidence may
be so, though the event itself be supposed not. Thus
the concurrence of our Saviour's being born at Bethle.-em, with a long foregoing series of prophecy and
other coincidences, is doubtless miraculous; the series
of prophecy, and other coincidences, and the event,
being admitted: though the event itself, his birth at that
place, appears to have been brought about in a natural
way; of which, however, no dne can be certain.
And as several of these events seem, in some degree
expressly, to have verified the prophetic history already;
so likewise they may be considered further; as having a
peculiar aspect towards the full completion of it; as affording some presumption that the whole of it shall, one
time or other, be fulfilled. Thus, that the Jews have
been so wonderfully preserved in their long and wide
dispersion; which is indeed the direct fulfilling of some
prophecies, but is now mentioned only as looking forward
to somewhat yet to come: that natural religion came
forth from Judea,. and spread, in the degree it has done
over the world, before lost in idolatry; which, together
with some other things, have distinguished that very
p)lace, in like manner as the people of it are distinguished.
that this great change of religion over the earth was




uI. N1I.'        FOR CHRISTIANITY.              271
brought about under the profession and acknowledgment, that Jesus was the promised Messiah: thirgs of
this kind naturally turn the thoughts of serious men
towards the full completion of the prophetic history,
concerning the final restoration of that people; concerning the establishment of the everlasting kingdom among
them, the kingdom of the Messiah; and the future state
of the world, under this sacred government. Such circumstances and events, compared with these prophecies,
though no completions of them, yet would not, I think,
be spoken of as nothing in the argument, by a person
upon his first being informed of them. They fall in
with the prophetic history of things still future, give it
some additional credibility, have the appearance of being
somewhat in order to the full completion of it.
Indeed it requires a good degree of knowledge, and
great calmness and consideration, to be able to judge
thoroughly of the evidence for the truth of Christianity,
from that part of the prophetic history which relates to
the situation of the kingdoms of'the world, and' to the
state of the church, from the establishment of Christiaiiity to the present time. But it appears from a general
view of it, to be very material. And those persons who
have thoroughly examined it, and some of them were
men of the coolest tempers, greatest capacities, an.l
least liable to imputations of prejudice, insist upon it as
determinately conclusive.
Suppose now a person quite ignorant of history, first.to recollect the passages above mentioned out of Scripture, without knowing but that the whole was a late fiction, then to be informed of the correspondent facts now
mentioned, and to unite them all into one view: that the
profession and establishment of natural religion in the
world is greatly owing, in different ways, to this book,
and the supposed revelation which it contains; that it is
acknowledged to be of the earliest antiquity; that its
chronology and common history are entirely credible;
that this ancient nation, the Jews, of whom it chtiefly
treats, appear to have been, in fact, the people of God
in a distinguished sense; that, as there was a national
expectatictii alnongst them, raised from the proph:cics,




272         OF THE PARTC'ULAR EVIDENCE          Irt lf
of a Messiah to appear at such a time, so one at this
time appeared claiming to be that Messiah; that he was
rejected by this nation, but received by the Gentiles, not
upon the evidence of prophecy, but of miracles; that the
religion lie taught supported itself under the greatest
difficulties, gained ground, and at length became the
religion of the world; that in the mean time the Jewish,olity was utterly destroyed, and the nation dispersed
over the face of the earth; that notwithstanding this, they
have remained a distinct numerous people for so many
centuries, even to this day; which not only appears to be
the express completion of several prophecies concerning
them, but also renders it, as one may speak, a visible
and easy possibility that t'.e promises made to them as
a nation, may yet be fulfiWLed.  And to these acknowledged truths, let the person we have been supposing
add as I think he ought, whether every one will allow
it or no, the obvious appeara:wmes which there are, of the
state of the world, in other respects besides what *ilates
to the Jews, and of the Christian church, having so long
answered, and still answeri.,: to the prophetic history.
Suppose, I say, these facts set over against the things
before mentioned out of t'he Scripture, and seriously
compared with themn; the Joint view  of both together
must, I think, app iar of ver/:reAat weight to a considerate reasonable person: of mnilh greater indeed, upon
having them  first laid before him, than is easy for us,
who are so familiarized to.,;' -n, to conceive, without
some particular attention for that purpose.
All these things, and the several particulars contained
under them, require to be diitiactly and most thoroughi?:
examined into; that the wei:ht of each may be judged cb
upon such examination, and such conclusion drawn ac
results from their united force.  But this has not been,
attempted here.  I have gone no further than to sho —,
that the general imperfect view of them  now given, the
confessed historical evidence for miracles, and the many
obvious appearing completions of prophecy, together
with the collateral things' here mentioned, and there are
e All the particullr Lhings mentioned in this chapter, not reducible to the head of
C;l.a;     I:.ji.il.(, tith tctrmhrlillalt completions of prophecy.   See p. 242




C"Al. VI1.]      FOR CHRISTIANITY.             273
several others of the like sort; that all this togerther,
which, being fact, must be acknowledged by unbelievers,
amounts to real evidence of somewhat more than human
in this matter: evidence much more important, than careless men, who have been accustomed only to transient
and partial views of it, can imagine; and indeed abundantly sufficient to act upon. And these things, I apprehend, must be acknowledged by unbelievers. For
though they may say, that the historical evidence of
miracles wrought in attestation of Christianity, is not
sufficient to convince them, that such miracles were
really wrought: they cannot deny, that there is such
historical evidence, it being a known matter of fact that
there is. They may say, the conformity between the
prophecies and events is by accident: but there are
many instances in which such conformity itself cannot
be denied. They may say, with regard to such kind of
collateral things as those above mentioned, that any odd
accidental events, without meaning, will have a meaning
found in them by fanciful people: and that such as are
fanciful in any one certain way, will make out a thousand
coincidences, which seem to favour their peculiar follies
Men, I say, may talk thus: but no one who is serious,
can possibly think these things to be nothing, if he considers the importance of collateral things, and even oi
lesser circumstances, in the evidence of probability, as
distinguished in nature, from the evidence of demonstratlioi. In many cases indeed it seems to require the
truest judgment, to determine with exactness the weight
of circumstantial evidence: but it is very often altogether as convincing, as that which is the most express
and direct.
This general view of the evidence for Christianity,
considered as making one argument, may also serve to
recommend to serious persons, to set down every thing
which they think may be of any real weight at all in
proof of it, and particularly the many seeming completions of prophecy: and they will find, that, judging b)
the natural rules, by which we judge of probable evidence in common matters, they amount to a much hligher
degree of proof, upon such a joint review. than could be




274        oF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE  [ Pllr.
supposed upon considering them separately, at different
times; how strong soever the proof might before appear
to them, upon such separate views of it.  For probable
proofs, by being added, not only increase the evidence,
but multiply it. Nor should I dissuade any one from
setting down, what he thought made for the contrary
side. But then it is to be remembered, not in order to
influence his judgment, but his practice, that a mistake
on one side may be, in its consequences, much more
dangerous, than a mistake on the other. And what
course is most safe, and what most dangerous, is a consideration thought very material, when we deliberate,
not concerning events, but concerning conduct in our
temporal affairs. To be influenced by this consideration in otr judgment, to believe or disbelieve upon it,
is indeed as much prejudice, as any thing whatever.
And, like other prejudices, it operates contrary ways,
in different men; for some are inclined to believe what
they hope, and others what they fear. And it is manifest
unreasonableness to apply to men's passions in order to
gain their assent. But in deliberations concerning conduct, there is nothing which reason more requires to
be taken into the account, than the importance of it.
For, suppose it doubtful, what would be the consequence of acting in this, or in a contrary manner: still,
that taking one side could be attended with little or no
bad consequence, and taking the other might be attended
with the greatest, must appear, to unprejudiced reason,
of the highest moment towards determining, how we are
to act. But the truth of our religion, like the truth of
common matters, is to be judged of by all the evidence
taken together.  And unless the whole series of things
which may be alleged in this argument, and every particular thing in it, can reasonably be supposed to have
been by accident (for here the stress of the argument
for Christianity lies); then is the truth of it proved: in
like manner, as if in any common case, numerous events
acknowledged, were to be alleged in proof of any other
event disputed; the truth of the disputed event woutlld
be proved, not only if any one of the acknowledged ones
did of itself clearly imply it- but, though no one of them




C,,1 V 1II.]    FOR CHRISTIANITY.              275
singly did so, if the whole of the acknowledged events
taken together could not in reason be supposed to have
happened, unless the disputed one were true.
It is obvious, how much advantage the nature of this
evidence gives to those persons who attack Christianity,
especially in conversation. For it is easy to show, in a
shcrt and lively manner, that such and such things are
liable to objection, that this and another thing is of little
weight in itself; but impossible to show, in like manner,
the united force of the whole argument in one view.
However, lastly, as it has been made appear, that there
is no presumption against a revelation as miraculous;
that the general scheme of Christianity, and the principal
parts of it, are conformable to the experienced constitution of things, and the whole perfectly credible: so the
account now given of the positive evidence for it, shows,
that this evidence is such, as, from the nature of it, cannot be destroyed, though it should be lessened.
CHAP. VIII.
OF THE OBJECTIONS WHICH MAY BE MADE AGAINST
ARGUING FROM THE ANALOGY OF NATURE, TO RELIGION.
IF every one would consider, with such attention as they
are bound, even in point of morality, to consider, what
they judge and give characters of; the occasion of this
chapter would be, in some good measure at least, superseded. But since this is not to be expected; for some
we find do not concern themselves to understand even
what they write against: since this treatise, in common
with most others, lies open to objections, which may appear very material to thoughtful men at first sight; and,
besides that, seems peculiarly liable to the objections of
such as can judge without thinking, and of such as can
censure without judging; it may not be amiss to set
down the chief of these objections which occur to me,
and consider them to their hands.  And they are such as
these:




i276,    OBJECTIONS AGAINST THE ANALOGY.   [Pal? IL
"That it is a poor thing to solve difficulties in revelation, by saying, that there are the same in natural
religion; when what is wanting is to clear both of them
of these their common, as well as other their respective,
difficulties: but that it is a strange way indeed of convincing men of the obligations of religion, to show them,
that they have as little reason for their worldly pursuits:
and a strange way of vindicating the justice and goodness
of the Author of Nature, and of removing the objections
against both, to which the system of religion lies open,
to show, that the like objections lie against natural
providence; a way of answering objections against religion, without so much as pretending to make out, that
the system of it, or the particular things in it objected
against, are reasonable-especially, perhaps some may be
inattentive enough to add, Must this be thought strange,
when it is confessed that analogy is no answer to such
objections: that when this sort of reasoning is carried to
the utmost length it can be imagined capable of, it will
vet leave the mind in a very unsatisfied state; and that
it must be unaccountable ignorance of mankind, to imagine they will be prevailed with to forego their present
interests and pleasures, from regard to religion, upon
doubtful evidence."
Now, as plausible as this way of talking may appear,
that appearance will be found in a great measure owing
to half views, which show but part of an object, yet show
that indistinctly, and to undeterminate language.  By
these means weak men are often deceived by others,
and ludicrous men, by themselves.  And even those,
wh-llo are serious and considerate, cannot always readily
disentangle, and at once clearly see through the perplexities, in which subjects themselves are involved; and
which are heightened by the deficiencies and the abuse
of words. To this latter sort of persons, the following
reply to each part of this objection severally, may be of
some assistance; as it may also tend a little to stop and
silence others.
First, The thing wanted, i. e. what men require, is to
have all difficulties cleared; And this is, or, at least for
any thing we know to the contrary, it may be, the same,




Cast. VIII.]  OF NATURE TO RELIGION.           277
as requiring to comprehend the Divine nature, and the
whole plan of Providence from everlasting to everlasting. But it hath always been allowed to argue from
what is acknowledged, to what is disputed. And it is
in no other sense a poor thing, to argue from natural
religion to revealed, in the manner found fault with, than
it is to argue in numberless other ways of probable deduction and inference, in matters of conduct, which we
are continually reduced to the necessity of doing. Indeed the epithet poor may be applied, I fear as properly,
to great part or the whole of human life, as it is to the
things mentioned in the objection.  Is it not a poor thing,
for a physician to have so little knowledge in the cure
of diseases, as even the most eminent have P To act
upon conjecture and guess, where the life of man is concerned? Undoubtedly it is: but not in comparison of
having no skill at all in that useful art, and being obliged
to act wholly in the dark.
Further: since it is as unreasonable, as it is common,
to urge objections against revelation, which are of equal
weight against natural religion; and those who do this,
if they are not confused themselves, deal unfairly with
others, in making it seem, that they are arguing only
against revelation, or particular doctrines of it, when in
reality they are arguing against moral providence; it is a
thing of consequence to show, that such objections are
as much levelled against natural religion, as against revealed. And objections, which are equally applicable
to both, are properly speaking answered, by its being
shown that they are so, provided the former be admitted
to be true. And without taking in the consideration
how distinctly this is adrnitted, it is plainly very material
to observe, that as the things objected against in natural
religion are of the same kind with what is certain matter of experience in the course of providence, and in the
information which God affords us concerning our temporal interest under his government; so the objections
against the system of Christianity, and the evidence of
it, are of the very same kind with those which are
made against the system and evidence of natural religion.
i i W'cv'er, the reader upon review may see, that most of




278       OBJECTIONS AGAINST THE ANALOGY    [PAar TY.
the analogies insisted upon, even in the latter part of
this treatise, do not necessarily require to have more
taken for granted than is in the former; that there is an
Author of nature, or natural Governor of the world: and
Christianity is vindicated, not from its analogy to natural
religion, but chiefly from its analogy to the experienced
constitution of nature.
Secondly, Religion is a practical thing, and consists in
such a determinate course of life, as being what, there is
reason to think,' is commanded by the Author of nature,
and will, upon the whole, be our happiness under his
government.  Now if men can be convinced, that they
have the like reason to believe this, as to believe that
taking care of their temporal affairs will be to their advantage; such conviction cannot but be an argument to
them for the practice of religion. And if there be really
any reason for believing one of these, and endeavouring
to preserve life, and secure ourselves the necessaries and
conveniences of it; then there is reason also for believing the other, and endeavouring to secure the interest it
proposes to us. And if the interest, which religion proposes to us, be infinitely greater than our whole temporal
interest; then there must be proportionably greater reason
for endeavouring to secure one, than the other; since, by
the supposition, the probability of our securing one is
equal to the probability of our securing the other. This
seems plainly unanswerable; and has a tendency to influence fair minds, who consider what our condition really
is, or upon what evidence we are naturally appointed to
act; and who are disposed to acquiesce in the terms
upon which we live, and attend to and follow that practical
instruction, whatever it be, which is afforded us.
But the chief and proper force of the argument referred to in the objection, lies in another'place.  For, it
is said that the proof of religion is involved in such inextricable difficulties, as to render it doubtful; and that
it cannot be supposed, that, if it were true, it would be
left upon doubtful evidence. Here then, over and above
the force of each particular difficulty or objection, these
difficulties and objections taken th;gether are turned into
a positive argument against the truth of religion; whicll




CVJAP. VlII.]  OF NATURE TO RELIGION.           279
argument would stand thus. If religion were true, it
would not be left doubtful, and open to objections to the
degree in which it is: therefore that it is thus left, not
()nly renders the evidence of it weak, and lessens its
force, in proportion to the weight of such objections;
but also shows it to be false, or is a general presumption
of its being so. Now the observation, that, from the
natural constitution and course of things, we must in our
temporal concerns, almost continually, and in matters of
great consequence, act upon evidence of a like kind and
degree to the evidence of religion, is an answer to this
argument; because it shows, that it is according to the
conduct and character of the Author of nature to appoint
we should act upon evidence like to that. which this
argument presumes he cannot be supposed to appoint
we should act upon: it is an instance, a general one,
made up of numerous particular ones, of somewhat in
his dealing with us, similar to what is said to be incredible. And as the force of this answer lies merely in the
parallel, which there is between the evidence for religion
and for our temporal conduct; the answer is equally just
and conclusive, whether the parallel be made out, by
showing the evidence of the former to be higher, or the
evidence of the latter to be lower.
Thirdly, The design of this treatise is not to vindicate
the character of God, but to show the obligations of men:
it is not to justify his providence, but to show what belongs to us to do.  These are two subjects, and ought
not to be confounded.  And though they may at length
ruln up into each other, yet observations may immediatelv tend to make out the latter, which do not appear,
13)y any immediate connexion, to the purpose of the former; which is less our concern, than many seem  to
think.  For, first, it is not necessary we should justify
the dispensations of Providence against objections, any
farther than to show, that the things objected against
mav, for ought we know, be consistent with justice and
goodness.  Suppose then, that there are things in the
system of this world, and plan of Providenc:e relating to
it, which taken alone would be unjust: yet it has been
shown unanswerably, that if we could take in the refer



280      OBJECTIONS AGAINST THE AMTALOGY    [PRT 11,
ence, which these things may have to other tilings pre.
sent, past, and to come; to the whole scheme, which the
things objected against are parts of; these very things
might, for ought we know, be found to be, not only consistent with justice, but instances of it.  Indeed it has
been slown, by the analogy of what we see, not only
possible that this may be the case, but credible that it is.
And thus objections, drawn from such things, are answered, and Providence is vindicated, as far as religion
makes its vindication necessary.  Hence it appears,
secondly, that objections against the Divine justice and
goodness are not endeavoured to be removed, by showing that the like objections, allowed to be really conclusive, lie against natural providence: but those objections
being supposed and shown not to be conclusive, the
tlhings objected against, considered as matters of fact, are
farther shown to be credible, from their conformity to
the constitution of nature; for instance, that God will reward and punish men for their actions hereafter, from
the observation, that he does reward and punish them
for their actions here. And this, I apprehend, is of
weight. And I add, thirdly, it would be of weight, even
though those objections were n6t answered. For, there
being the proof of religion above set down; and religion
implying several facts; for instance again, the fact last
mentioned, that God will reward and punish men for
their actions hereafter; the observation, that his present
method of government is by rewards and punishments,
shows that future fact not to be incredible: whatever objections men may think they have against it, as unjust or
unmerciful, according to their notions of justice and
mercy; or as improbable from their belief of necessity.
I say, as improbable: for it is evident no objection against
it, as unjust, can be urged from necessity; since this notion as much destroys injustice, as it does justice. Then,
fourthly, Though objections against the reasonableness
of the system of religion cannot indeed be answered without entering into consideration of its reasonableness;
vet objections against the credibility or truth of it may.
Because the system of it is reducible into what is pro.
perly matter of fact: and the truth, the probable truth.




CarP. VIII.]   OF NATURE TO RELIGION.            281
of facts, may be shown without consideration of their
reasonableness. Nor is it necessary, though, in some
cases and respects, it is highly useful and proper, yet it
is not necessary, to give a proof of the reasonablleness of
every precept enjoined us, and of every particular dispensation of Providence, which comes into the system of
religion. Indeed the more thoroughly a person of a
right disposition is convinced of the perfection'of the
Divine nature and conduct, the farther he will advance
towards that perfection of religion, which St John* speaks
of. But the general obligations of religion are fully
made out, by proving the reasonableness of the practice
of it. And that the practice of religion is reasonable,
may be shown, though no more could be proved, than
that the system of it may be so, for ought we know to
the contrary: and even without entering into the distinct
consideration of this. And from hence, fifthly, It is easy
to see, that though the analogy of nature is not an immediate answer to objections against the wisdom, the justice, or goodness, of any doctrine or precept of religion;
yet it may be, as it is, an immediate and direct answer
tlo what is really intended by such objection.s; which
is, to show that the things objected against are incretlible.
Fourthly, It is most readily acknowledged, that the
foregoing treatise is by no means satisfactory; very far
indeed from it: but so would any natural institution of
life appear, if reduced into a system, together with its
evidence. Leaving religion out of the case, men are
divided in their opinions, whether our pleasures overbalance our pains: and whether it be, or be not, eligible
to live in this world. And were all such controversies
settled, which perhaps, in speculation, would be found
involved in great difficulties; and were it determined
upon the evidence of reason, as nature has determined
it to our hands, that life is to be preserved: yet still, the
rules which God has been pleased to afford us, for escaping the miseries of it, and obtaining its satisfactions, the
rules, for instance, of preserving health, and recovering
it when l(st, are not only fallible and precarious, but
* John iv. 18.




282      OBJE~CTIONS AGAINST THE ANALOGY    [PaI L.
very far from being exact. Nor are we informed by nature, in future contingencies and accidents, so as to render it at all certain, what is the best method of managing
our affairs.  What will be the success of our temporal
pursuits, in the common sense of the word Success, is
highly doubtful. And what will be the success of them
in the proper sense of the word; i. e. what happiness or
enjoyment we shall obtain by them, is doubtful in a much
higher degree.  Indeed the unsatisfactory nature of the
evidence, with which we are obliged to take up, in the
daily course of life, is scarce to be expressed. Yet men
do not throw away life, or disregard the interests of it,
upon account of this doubtfulness.  The evidence of religion then being admitted real, those who object against
it, as not satisfactory, i. e. as not being what they wish
it, plainly forget the very condition of our being: for
satisfaction, in this sense, does not belong to such a
creature as man. And, which is more material, they
forget also the very nature of religion. For, religion presupposes, in all those who will embrace it, a certain degree of integrity and honesty; which it was intended to
try whether men have or not, and to exercise in such as
have it, in order to its improvement.  Religion presupposes this as much, and in the same sense, as speaking
to a mnan presupposes he understands the language in
which yon speak; or as warning a man of any reanger
presupposes that he hath such a regard to himself, as
that he will endeavour to avoid it. And therefore the
question is not at all, Whether the evidence of rcligion
be satisfactory; but Whether it be, in reason, sufficient
to prove and discipline that virtue, which it presupposes.
Now the evidence of it is fully sufficient for all those
purposes of probation; how far soever it is from being
satisfactory, as to the purposes of curiosity, or any other:
and indeed it answers the purposes of the former in
several respects, which it would not do, if it were as
overbearing as is required. One might add farther; that
whether the motives or the evidence for any course of
action be satisfactory, meaning here, by that word, what
satisfies a man, that such a course of action will in event
be fbor h's good; this need never be, and I think, strictly




CUrt. VIII.]   OF NATURE TO RELIGION.             283
speaking, never is, the practical question in common
matters.  But the practical question in all cases is,
Whether the evidence for a course of action be such as,
taking in all circumstances, makes the faculty within us,
which is the guide and judge of conduct,* determ-ine that
course of action to be prudent.  Indeed, satisfaction that
it will be for our interest or happiness, abundantly determines an action to be prudent: but evidence almost infinitely lower than this, determines actions to be so too;
even in the conduct of every day.
Fifhly, As to the objection concerning the influence
which this argument, or any part of it, may, or may not
be expected to have upon men; I observe, as above,
that religion being intended for a trial and exercise of
the morality of every person's character, who is a sub —
ject of it; and there being, as I have shown, such evidence for it, as is sufficient, in reason, to influence men
to embrace it: to object, that it is not to be imagined
mankind will be influenced by such evidence, is nothing
to the purpose of the foregoing treatise.  For the purpose of it is not to inquire, what sort of creatures mankind are; but what the light and knowledge, which is
afforded them, requires they should be: to show how, in
reason, they ought to behave; not how, in fact, they will
behave. This depends upon themselves, and is their
own concern; the personal-concern of each man in particular.  And how little regard the generality have to it,
experience indeed does too fully show.  But religion,
considered as a probation, has had its end upon all persons, to whom it has been proposed with evidence sufficient in reason to influence their practice: for by this
mneans they have been put into a state of probation; let
them behave as they will in it.  And thus, not only re~.
velation, but reason also, teaches us, that by the evidence
of religion being laid before men, the designs of Providence are carrying on, not only with regard to those who
will, but likewise with regard to those who will not, be
influenced by it. However, lastly, the objection here referred to, allows the things insisted upon in this treatise
to be of some weight'; and if so, it may be hoped it will
* See Dissert. 1I.




284       OBJECTIONS AGAINST THE ANALOGY    laT fn,
have some influence. And if there be a probability that
it will have any at all, there is the same reason in kind,
though not in degree, to lay it before men, as there would
be, if it were likely to have a greater influence.
And farther, I desire it may be considered, with respect to the whole of the foregoing objections, that in this
treatise I have argued upon the principles of others,* not
my own: and have omitted what I think true, and of the
utmost importance, because by others thought unintelligible, or not true. Thus I have argued upon the principles of the Fatalists, which I do not believe: and have
omitted a thing of the utmost importance which I do believe, the moral fitness and uire-:ess of actions, prior to
all will whatever; which I Li   ehend as certainly to
determine the Divine conduct, a's speculative truth and
falsehood necessarily determine the Divine judgment.
Indeed the principle of liberty, and that of moral fitness,
so force themselves upon the mind, that moralists, the
ancients as well as moderns, have formed their language
upon it. And probably it may appear in mine: though
I have endeavoured to avoid it; and, in order to avoid it,
have sometimes been obliged to express myself in a
manner, which will appear strange to such as do not
observe the reason for it: but the general argument here
pursued does not at all suppose, or proceed upon these
principles. Now, these two abstract principles of liberty
and moral fitness being omitted, religion can be considered in no other view, than merely as a question of
fact: and in this view it is here considered. It is obvious,
that Christianity, and the proof of it, are both historical.
And even natural religion is,; properly, a matter of fact.
For, that there is a righteous Governor of the world, is
so: and this proposition contains the general system of
natural religion.  But then, several abstract truths, and
in particular those two principles, are usually taken into
consideration in the proof of it: whereas it is here treated
of only as a matter of fact.  To explain this: that the
three angles of a triangle are equal to two right ones,
* By arguing upon the principles of others, the reader will observe is meant, not
proving any tiling front those prilciples, hut notwithslandingr them. Thus religion
is proved, not from the opinionl of necessity; whllich is absurd: but, aotwitkAtandisg
wr "  thMough that opiniozn were admitted to be true.




CHAPI. v[lI.j  OF NATURE TO RELIGION.            28 
is an abstract truth: but that they appear so to our mind,
is only a matter of fact. And this last must have been
admitted, if any thing was, by those ancient sceptics, who
would not have admitted the former: but pretended to
doubt, Whether there were any such thing as truth, or
Whether we could certainly depend upon our faculties
of understanding for the knowledge of it in any case.
So likewise, that there is, in the nature of things, an
original standard of right and wrong in actions, independent upon all will, but which unalterably determines the
will of God, to exercise that moral government over the
world, which religion teaches, i. e. finally and upon the
whole to reward and -p':41 men respectively as they act
right or wrong; This    ion contains an abstract truth,
as well!as matter o0  uctL.  But suppose, in the present
state,.every r:nl, without exception, was rewarded and
punished, in tekact proportion as he followed or ti insgressed that sense of right and wrong, which God has
implanted in the nature of every man: this would not be
at all an abstract truth, but only a matter of fact.  And
though this fact were acknowledged by every one; yet
the very same difficulties might be raised as are now,
concerning the abstract questions of liberty and moral
fitness: and we should have a proof, even the certain
one of experience, that the government of the world was
perfectly moral, without taking in the consideration of
those questions: and this proof would remain, in what
way soever they were determined. And thus, God having given mankind a moral faculty, the object of which
is actions, and which naturally approves some actions as
right, and of good desert, and condemns others as wrong,
and of ill desert; that he will, finally and upon the whole,
reward the former and punish the latter, is not an assertion of an abstract truth, but of what is as mere a fact, as
his doing so at present would be. This future fact I
have not, indeed, proved with the force with which it
might be proved, from the principles of liberty.and moral
fitness; but without them have given a really conclusive
practical proof of it, which is greatly strengthened bythe
general analogy of nature: a proof easily cavilled at
easily shown not to be demonstrative, for it is not offered




286                 CONCLUSION.               [PART II
as such; but impossible, I think, to be evaded, or answered.  And thus the obligations of religion are made
out, exclusively of the questions concerning liberty and
moral fitness; which have been perplexed with difficulties and abstruse reasonings, as every thing may.
Hence therefore may be observed distinctly, what is
the force of this treatise.  It will be, to such as are convinced of religion upon the proof arising out of the two
last nmentioned principles, an additional proof and a confirmation of it: to such as do not admit those principles,
an original proof of it,* and a confirmation of that proof.
Those who believe will here find the scheme of Chris.
tianity cleared of objections, and the evidence of it in a
peculiar manner strengthened: tlF (-e who do not believe
will at least be shown the absuri.. y of all attempts to
prove Christianity false, the plain undoubted credibility
of it; and, I hope, a good deal more.
And thus, though some perhaps may seriously think,
that analogy, as here urged, has too great stress laid
upon it; and ridicule, unanswerable ridicule, may be
applied, to show the argument from it in a disadvantageous light; yet there can be no question, but that it is
a real one.  For religion, both natural and revealed,
implying in it numerous facts; analogy, being a confirmation of all facts to which it can be applied, as it is the
only proof of most, cannot but be admitted by every one
to be a material thing, and truly of weight on the side
of religion, both natural and revealed: and it ought to
be particularly regarded by such as profess to follow
nature, and to be less satisfied with abstract reasonings.
CONCLUSION.
WHATEVER account may be given of the strange inattention and disregard, in some ages and countries, to a
matter of such importance as Religion; it would, before
experience, be incredible, that there should be the like
disregard in those, who have had the moral system of
the world laid before them, as it is by Christianity, and
* P. 141, &c.




pt, T.1        CONCLUSION.                  2S7
often inculcated upon them: because this moral system
carries in it a good degree of evidence for its truth, upon
its being barely proposed to our thoughts. There is no
need of abstruse reasonings and distinctions, to convince
an unprejudiced understanding, that there is a God who
made and governs the world, and will judge it in righteousness; though they may be necessary to answer
abstruse difficulties, when once such are raised: when
the very meaning of those words, which express most
intelligibly the general doctrine of religion, is pretended
to be uncertain; and the clear truth of the thing itself' is
obscured by the intricacies of speculation. But to an
unprejudiced mind, ten thousand thousand instances of
design cannot but prove a designer.  And it is intuitively manifest, that creatures ought to live under a dutiful sense of their Maker; and that justice and charity
must be his laws, to creatures whom he has made social,
and placed in society. Indeed the truth of revealed
religion, peculiarly so called, is not self-evident, but requires external proof, in order to its being received.
Yet inattention, among us, to revealed religion, will be
found to imply the same dissolute immoral temper of
mind, as inattention to natural religion: because, when
bo hi are laid before us, in the manner they are in ChrisIlan countries of liberty, our obligations to inquire into
coth, and to embrace both upon supposition of their
truth, are obligations of the same nature.  For, revelation claims to be the voice of God: and our obligation
to attend to his voice is surely moral in all cases.  And
as it is insisted, that its evidence is conclusive, upon
thorough consideration of it; so it offers itself to us with
manifest obvious appearances of having somethin' more
than human in it, and therefore in all reason requires to
have its claims most seriously examined into.  It is to
be added, that "though light and knowledge, in what
manner soever afforded us, is equally from God; yet a
miraculous revelation. has a peculiar tendency, from the
first principles of our nature, to awaken mankind, and
inspire them with reverence and awe: and this is a
peculiar obligation, to attend to what claims to be so
with such appearances of truth.  It is therefore moot




2S8                 CONCLUSION.                [.rT UI.
certain, that our obligations to inquire seriously into the
evidence of Christianity, and, upon supposition of its
truth, to embrace it, are of the utmost importance, and
moral in the highest and most proper sense.  Let us
then suppose, that the evidence of religion in general,
and of Christianity, has been seriously inquired into, by
all reasonable men among us. Yet we find many professedly to reject both, upon speculative principles of
infidelity.  And all of them dio not content themselves
with a bare neglect of religion, and enjoying their imaginary freedom  from  its restraints.  Some go much
beyond this.  They deride God's moral government
over the world.  They renounce his protection, and
defy his justice. They ridicule and vilify Christianity,
and blaspheme the author of it; and take all occasions
to manifest a scorn and contempt of revelation. This
amounts to an active setting themselves against religion;
to what may be considered as a positive principle of irreligion; which they cultivate within themselves, and,
whether they intend this effect or not, render habitual, as a
good man does the contrary principle. And others, who
are not chargeable with all this profligateness, yet are in
avowed opposition to religion, as if discovered to be
groundless. Now admitting, which is the supposition
we go upon, that these persons act upon what they
think principles of reason, and otherwise they are not
to be argued with; it is really inconceivable, that they
should im.nagine they clearly see the whole evidence of
it, considered in itself, to be nothing at all: nor do they
pretend this. They are far indeed from having a just
notion of its evidence: but they would not say its evidence was nothing, if.they thought the system of it, with
all its circumstances, were credible, like other matters of
science or history.  So their manner of treating it must
proceed, either from such kind of objections against all
religion, as have been answered or obviated in the former part of this treatise; or eise from objections, and
difficulties, supposed more peculiar to Christianity.'iThus, they entertain prejudices against the whole no.
tion of a revelation, and  miraculous interpositions.
They find things in Scripture, whether in incidental




PART ILl           CONCLUSION.                   289
passages, or in the general scheme of it, which appear
to them unreasonable.  They take for granted, that if
Christianity were true, the light of it must have been
more general, and the evidence of it more satisfactory,
or rather overbearing: that it must and would have
been. in some way, otherwise put and left, than it is.
Now this is not imagining they see the evidence itself to
be nothlting, or inconsiderable; but quite another thing.
It is being fortified against the evidence, in some degree
acknowledged, by thinking they see the system of Chris
tianity, or somewhat which appears to them necessarily
connected with it, to be incredible or false; fortified
against that evidence, which might, otherwise, make
great impression upon them. Or, lastly, if any of these
persons are, upon the whole, in doubt concerning the
truth of Christianity; their behaviour seems owing to
their taking for granted, through strange inattention, that
such doubting is, in a manner, the same thing as being
certain against it.
To these persons, and to this state of opinion concerning religion, the foregoing treatise is adapted.  For,
all the general objections against the moral system of
nature having been obviated, it is shown, that there is
not any peculiar presumption at all against Christianity,
either considered as not discoverable by reason, or as unlike to what is so discovered; nor any worth mentioning
against it as miraculous, if any at all; none, certainly,
which can render it in the least incredible. It is shown,
that, upon supposition of a divine revelation, the analogy
of nature renders it beforehand highly credible, I think
probable, that many things in it must appear liable to
great objections; and that we must be incompetent judges
of it, to a great degree. This observation is, I think,
unquestionably true, and of the very utmost importance:
but it is urged, as I hope it will be understood, with
groat. caution of not vilifying the faculty of reason, which
is the candie of the Lord within us;? though it can afford
no light, where it does not shine; nor judge, where it
ha3 no print.ples to judge upon.  The objections here
spoken of; being first answered in the view of objectioos
* Prov. xx. 27
T




290                 CONCLUSION.              [PAT IL
against Christianity as a matter of fact, are in the next
place considered as urged more immediately against the
wisdom, justice, and goodness of the Christian dispensation. And it is fully made out, that they admit of
exactly the like answer, in every respect, to what the
like objections against the constitution of nature admit
of: that, as partial views give the appearance of wrong
to things, which, upon further consideration and knowledge of their relations to other things, are found just
and good; so it is perfectly credible, that the things
objected against the wisdom and goodness of the Christian dispensation, may be rendered instances of wisdom and goodness, by their reference to other things
beyond our view: because Christianity is a scheme as
much above our comprehension, as that of nature; and
-like that, a scheme in which means are made use of to
accomplish ends, and wfiich, as is most credible, may be
carried on by general laws. And it ought to be attended
to, that this is not an answer taken merely or chiefly
from our ignorance; but from somewhat positive, which
our observation shows us. For, to like objections, the like
answer is experienced to be just, in numberless parallel
cases. The objections against the Christian dispensation,
and the method by which it is carried on, having been
thus obviated, in general and together; the chief of them
are considered distinctly, and the particular things objected to are shown credible, by their perfect analogy,
each apart, to the constitution of nature. Thus, if man be
fallen from his primitive state, and to be restored, and infinite wisdom and power engages in accomplishing our
recovery: it were to have been expected, it is said, that
this should have been effected at once; and not by such
a long series of means, and such a various economy
of persons and things; one dispensation preparatory to
another, this to a further one, and so on through an inde;litec number of ages, before the end of the scheme
proposed can be completely accomplished; a scheme
conducted by infinite wisdom, and executed by almighty
Dower.  But now, on the contrary, our finding that
every thing in the constitution and course of nature is
1lus carried on, shows such expectations concerning




PART II.]          CONCLUSION.                   291
revelation to be highly unreasonable; and is a satisfactoryw answer to them, when urged as objections against
the credibility, that the great scheme of Providence in
the redemption of the world may be of this kind, and to
be accomplished in this manner. As to the particular
method of our redemption, the appointment of a Mediator between God and man: this has been shown to be
most obviously analogous to the general conduct of nature, i e. the God of nature, in appointing others to be
the instruments of his mercy, as we experience in the
daily course of providence.  The condition of this world,
which the doctrine of our redemption by Christ presupposes, so much falls in with natural appearances, that
heathen moralists inferred it from those appearances:
Inferred, that human nature was fallen from its original
rectitude, and in consequence of this, degraded from its
primitive happiness.  Or, however this opinion came
into the world, these appearances must have kept up
the tradition, and confirmed the belief of it. And as it
was the general opinion under the light of nature, that
repentance and reformation, alone and by itself, was not
sufficient to do away sin, and procure a full remission of
the penalties annexed to it; and as the reason of the
thing does not at all lead to any such conclusion; so
every day's experience shows us, that reformation is not,
in any sort, sufficient to prevent the present disadvantages and miseries, which, in the natural course of
things, God has annexed to folly and extravagance.
Yet there may be ground to think, that the punishments, which, by the general laws of divine government,
are annexed to vice, may be prevented: that provision
may have been, even originally, made, that they should
be prevented by some means or other, though they
could not by reformation alone. For we have daily instances of such rmercy, in the general conduct of nature:
compassion provided for misery," medicines for diseases,
friends against enemies.  There is provision made, in
the original constitution of the world, that much of the
natural bad consequences of our follies, which persons
themselves alone cannot prevent, may be prevented by
9 Serm. at the Rolls, p. 106.
2_




?92                   CONPL SION.              [PART IT.
he assistance of others; assistance, which nature enanles, and disposes, and appoints them  to afford.  By a
method of goodness analog6us to this, when the world
lay in wickedness, and consequently in ruin, God so loved
the world, that he gave his only begotten Son to save it:
and he being' made perfect by sufjJering, became the author
of eternal salvation to all them that obey him." Indeed
neither reason nor analogy would lead us to think, in
particular, that the interposition of Christ, in the manner
in which he did interpose, would be of that efficacy for
recovery of the world, which the Scripture teaches us it
was: but neither would reason nor analogy lead us to
think, that other particular means would be of the efficacy, which experience shows they are, in numberless
instances. And therefore, as the case before us does not
admit of experience; so, that neither reason nor analogy
can show how, or in what particular way, the interposition
of Christ, as revealed in Scripture, is of that efficacy,
which it is there represented to be; this is no kind nor
degree of presumption against its being really of that
effcacy. Further: the objections against Christianity,
frosmt the light of it not being universal, nor its evidence
sc strong as might possibly be given us, have been
answered by the general analogy of nature.  That God
has made such variety of creatures, is indeed an answer
to the former: but that he dispenses his gifts in such
variety, both of degrees and kinds, amongst creatures of
the same species, and even to the same individuals at
different times; is a more obvious and full answer to it
And it is so far from being the method of Providence in
other cases, to afford us such overbearing evidence, as
some require in proof of Christianity; that on the contrary,
the evidence upon which we are naturally appointed to
cet in common matters, throughout a very great part of
life, is doubtful in a high degree. And admitting the
fact, that God has afforded to some no more than doubtfiil
evidence of religion; the same account may be g'ven of
it, as of difficulties and temptations with regard to practice. But as it is not impossible,t surely, that this alleged
doubtfulness may be men's own fault; it deserves their
* John iii. 16,  Heb. v. 9.  t[ P. 237, &c.




PAr II.]            CONCLUSION.                  293
most serious consideration, whether it be not so. However, it is certain, that doubting implies a degree of evidence for that of which we doubt: and that this degree
of evidence as really lays us under obligations as demonstrative evidence.
The whole then of religion is throughout credible: nor
is there, I think, any thing relating to the revealed dispensation of things, more different from the experienced
constitution and course of nature, than some parts of the
constitution of nature are from other parts of it. And
if so, the only question which remains is, what positive
evidence can be alleged for the truth of Christianity.
This too in general has been considered, and the objections against it estimated. Deduct, therefore, what is to
be deducted from that evidence, upon account of any
weight which may be thought to remain in these objections, after what the analogy of nature has suggested in
answer to them: and then consider, what are the practical consequences from all this, upon the most sceptical
principles one can argue upon (for I am writing to persons who entertain these principles): and upon such
consideration it will be obvious, that immorality, as little
excuse as it admits of in itself, is greatly aggravated, in
persons who have been made acquainted with Christianity, whether they believe it or not: because the moral
system of nature, or natural religion, which Christianity
lays before us, approves itself, almost intuitively, to a
reasonable mind, upon seeing it proposed. In the next
place, with regard to Christianity, it will be observed;
that there is a middle between a full satisfaction of the
truth of it, and a satisfaction of the contrary.  The
middle state of mind between these two consists in a
serious apprehension, that it may be true, joined with
doubt whether it be so. And this, upon the best judgment I am able to make, is as far towards speculative
infidelity, as any sceptic can at all be supposed to go,
who has had true Christianity, with the proper evidences'
of it, laid before him, and has in any tolerable measure
considered them. For I would not te mistaken to comr
prehend all who have ever heard of it: because it seems
evident, that in many countries called Christian, neither




294                CONCLUSION.               [PART IL
Christianity, nor its evidence, are fairly laid before men
And in places where both are, there appear to be some
who have very little attended to either, and who reject
Christianity with a scorn proportionate to their inattention; and yet are by no means without understanding
in other matters. Now it has been shown, that a serious
apprehension that Christianity may be true, lays persons under the strictest obligations of a serious regard
to it, throughout the whole of their life; a regard not
the same exactly, but in many respects nearly the same
with what a full conviction of its truth would lay them
under Lastly, it will appear, that blasphemy and profaneness, I mean with regard to Christianity, are absolutely without excuse. For there is no temptation to
it, but from the wantonness of vanity or mirth; and these,
considering the infinite importance of the subject, are
no such temptations as to afford any excuse for it.. If
this be a just account of things, and yet men can go on
to vilify or disregard Christianity, which is to talk and
act as if they had a demonstration of its falsehood;
there is no reason to think they would alter their be.
haviour to any purpose, though there were a demonstration of its truth.




DISSERTATION I.
OF PERSONAL IDENTITY.
WJ'HETHER we are to live in a future state, as it ig the
most important question which can possibly be asked, so
it is the most intelligible one which can be expressed in
language.  Yet strange perplexities have been raised
ab1lut the meaning of that identity or sameness of person, which is implied in the notion of our living now and
-rcreafvter, or in any two successive moments.  And the
solution of these difficulties hath been stranger than the
difficulties themselves.  For, personal identity has been
explained so by some, as to render the inquiry concerning a future life of no consequence at all to us the persons who are making it. And though few men can be
misled by such subtleties; yet it may be proper a little to
consider them.
rNow, when it is asked wherein personal identity consists, the answer should be the same, as if it were asked
wherein consists similitude, or equality; that all attempts
to define would but perplex it. Yet there is no difficulty
at all in ascertaining the idea. For as, upon two triangles
being compared or viewed together, there arises to the
mind the idea of similitude; or upon twice two and four,
the idea of equality: so likewise, upon comparing the
consciousness of one's self, or one's own existence, in
any two moments, there as immediately arises to the
mind the idea of personal identity.  And as the two former comparisons not only give us the ideas of similitude
and equality; but also show us, that two triangles are
alike, and twice two and four are equal: so the latter
comparison not only gives us the idea of personal identity, but also shows us the identity of ourselves in those
two moments; the present, suppose, and that immediately past; or the present, and that a month, a year, or
twenty years past. Or in other words, by reflecting upon
that which is myself now, and that whicl was myself




298           OF PERSONAL IDENTITY.           [DIss. I.
twenty years ago, I discern they are not two, but one and
the same self.
But though consciousness of what is past does thus
ascertain our personal identity to ourselves, yet to say,
that it makes personal identity, or is necessary to our
being the same persons, is to say, that a perbon has not
existed a single moment, nor done one action, but what
he can remember; indeed none but what he reflects
upon. And one should really think it self-evident, that
consciousness of personal identity presupposes, and
therefore cannot constitute, personal identity; any more
than knowledge, in any other case, can constitute truth,
which it presupposes.
This wonderful mistake may possibly have arisen frorm
hence; that to be endued with consciousness is inseparable from the idea of a person, or intelligent being. For,
this might be expressed inaccurately thus, that consciousness makes personality: and from hence it might be
concluded to make personal identity. But though present consciousness of what we at present do and feel is
necessary to our being the persons we now are; yet
present consciousness of past actions or feelings is not
necessary to our being the same persons who performed
those actions, or had those feelings.
The inquiry, what makes vegetables the same in the
common acceptation of the word, does not appear to
have any relation to this of personal identity: because,
the word same, when applied to them and to person, is
not only! applied to different subjects, but it is also used
in different senses. For when a man swears to the-same
tree, as having stood fifty years in the same place, he
means only the same as to all the purposes of property
and uses of common life, and not that the tree has been
all that time the same in the strict philosophical sense of
the word.  For he does not know, whether any one
particle of the present tree be the same with any one
particle of the t;iee which stood in the same place fifty
years ago. And if they have not one common particle
of matter, they cannot be the same tree in the proper
philosophic sense of the word same: it being evidently a
contradiction in terms, to say they are, when no part of




Dtss. 1.]      OF PERSONAL IDENTITY.             299
their substance, and no one of their properties is the
same: no part of their substance, bv the supposition; no
one of their properties, because it is allowed, that the
samne property cannot be transferred from one substance
to another. And therefore when we say the identity or
sameness of a plant consists in a continuation of the
same life, communicated under the same organization, to
a number of particles of matter, whether the same or
not; the word same, when applied to life and to organization, cannot possibly be understood to signify, what it
signifies in this very sentence, when applied to matter.
In a loose and popular sense then, the life and the organization and the plant are justly said to be the same,
notwithstanding the perpetual change of the parts. But
in a strict and philosophical manner of speech, no man,
no being, no mode of being, no anything, can be the
same with that, with which it has indeed nothing the
same. Now sameness is used in this latter sense, when
applied to persons.  The identity of these, therefore,
cannot subsist with diversity of substance.
The thing here considered, and demonstratively, as I
think, determined, is proposed by Mr Locke in these
words, Whether it, i. e. the same self or person, be the
sanme identical substance?  And he has suggested what is
a much better answer to the question, than that which
hie gives it in form. For he defines Person, a thinking
intelligent being' &c., and personal identity, the sameness
of a rational Being." The question then is, whether the
same rational being is the same substance: which needs
no answer, because Being and Substance, in this place,
stand for the same idea. The ground of the doubt,
whether the same person be the same substance, is said
to be this; that the consciousness of our own existence,
in youth and in old age, or in any two joint successive
moments, is not the same individual action,t i. e. not the
same consciousness, but different successive consciousnesses.  Now it is strange that this should have occasioned such perplexities. For it is surely conceivable,
that a'person may hare a capacity of knowing some
object or other to be the same now, which it was when he
# Locke's Works, vol. i. p. 146.  t Locke, p. 146, 147.




300            OF  E RSONAL IDENTITY.            [Disa. L
contemplated it formerly  yet in this case, where, by the
supposition, the object is perceived to be the same, the
perception of it in any two moments cannot be one and
the same perception.  And thus, though the successive
consciousnesses, which we have of our own existence,
are not the same, yet are they consciousnesses of one
and the same thing or object; of the same person, self,
or living agent.  The person, of whose existence the
consciousness is felt now, and was felt an hour or a year
ago, is discerned to be, not two persons, but one and the
same person; and therefore is one and the same.
Mr Locke's observations upon this subject appear
hasty: and he seems to profess himself dissatisfied with
suppositions, which he has made relating to it.A  But
some of those hasty observations have been carried to a
strange length by others; whose notion, when traced and
examined to the bottom, amounts, I think, to this:t
" That IPersonality is not a permanent, but a transient
thing: that it lives and dies, begins and ends continually:
that no one can any more remain one and the same person two moments together, than two successive moments
can be one and the same moment: that our substance is
indeed continually changing; but whether this be so or
not, is, it seems, nothing to the purpose; since it is not
substance, but consciousness alone, which constitutes
personality: which consciousness, being successive, cannot be the same in any two moments, nor consequently
the personality constituted by it."  And from hence it
Imust follow, that it is a fallacy upon ourselves, to charge
our present selves with any thing we did, or to imagine
our present selves interested in any thing which befell
us yesterday; or that our present self will be interested
in what will befall us to-morrow: since our present self
is not, in reality, the same with the self of yesterday, but
another like self or person coming in its room, and mistaken for it; to which another self will succeed to-morrow. This, I say, must follow: for'if the self or person
of to-day, and that of to-morrow, are not the same, but
* Locke, p. 152.
t See an Answer to Dr Clarke's Third Defence of his Letter to Mr Dodwell,
2d edit. p. 44, 56, &c.




DisS. 1.]      3  PERSONAL IDENTITY.             301
only like persons; the person of to-day is really no more
interested in what will befall the person of to morrow,
than in what will befall any other person. It may be
thought, perhaps, that this is not a just representation of
the opinion we are speaking of: because those who maintain it allow, that a person is the same as far back as his
remembrance reaches. And indeed they do use the
words, identity, and same person. Nor will language permit these words to be laid aside; since if they were,
there must be I know not what ridiculous periphrasis
substituted in the room of them. But they cannot consistently with themselves, mean, that the person is really
the same. For it is self-evident, that the personality
cannot be really the same, if, as they expressly assert,
that in which it consists is not the same. And as, consistently with themselves, they cannot, so, I think it appears, they do not, mean, that the person is really the
same, but only that he is so in a fictitious sense: in such
a sense only as they assert, for this they do assert, that
any number of persons whatever may be the same person. The bare unfolding this notion, and laying it thus
naked and open, seems the best confutation of it. However, since great stress is said to be put upon it, I add
the following things.
First, This notion is absolutely contradictory to that
certain conviction, which necessarily and every moment
rises within us, when we turn our thoughts upon ourselves, when we reflect upon what is past, and look forward upon what is to come.  All imagination of a daily
change of that living agent which each man calls himself,
for another, or of any such change throughout our whole
present life, is entirely borne down by our natural sense
of things. Nor is it possible for a person in his wits to
alter his conduct, with regard to his health or affairs,
from a suspicion, that, though he should live to-morrow,
he should not, however, be the same person he is to-day.
And yet, if it be reasonable to act, with respect to a
future life, upon this notion, that personality is transient;
it is reasonable to act upon it, with respect to the present. Here then is a notion equally applicable to religion and to our temporal concerns; and every one sees




302            OF PERSONAL IDENTITY.           [Ds. I
anid feels the inexpressible absurdity of it in the latter
case; if, therefore, any can take up with it in the former,
this cannot proceed from the reason of the thing, but
must be owing to an inward unfairness, and secret corruption of heart.
Secondly, It is not an idea, or abstract notion, or quality, but a being only, which is capable of life and action,
of happiness and misery. Now all beings confessedly
continue the same, during the whole time of their existence. Consider then a living being now existing, an(
which has existed for any time alive: this living being
must have done -and suffered and enjoyed, what it has
done and suffered and enjoyed formerly (this living being, I say, and not another), as really as it does and suffers and enjoys, what it does and-sufrf  and enjoys this
instant.  All these successive actio,.i,joyments, and
sufferings, are actions, enjoyments, and sufferings, of the
same living being. And they are so, prior to all consideration of its remembering or forgetting: since rememberingf or forgetting can make no alteration in the truth
of past matter of fact. And suppose this being endued
with limited powers of knowledge and memory, there is
no more difficulty in conceiving it to have a power of
knowing itself to be the same living being which it was
some time ago, of remembering some of its actions, sufferings, and enjoyments, and forgetting others, than in
conceiving it to know or remember or forget any thing
else.
Thirdly, Every person is conscious, that he is now
the same person or self he was as far back as his remembrance reaches: since when any one reflects upon
a past action of his own, he is just as certain of the person who did that action, namely, himself, the person
who now reflects upon it, as he is certain that the action
was at all done. Nay, very often a person's assurance
of an action having been done, of which he is absolutely
assured, arises wholly from the consciousness that he
himself did it. And this he, person, or self, must either
be a substance, or the property of some substance.  If
he, if' person, be a substance; then consciousness that he
is the same pe:son is consciousness that he is the same




DIss. II.'   OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE.          303
substance. If the person, or he, be the property of a
substance, still consciousness that he is the same pro.
perty is as certain a proof that his substance remains the
same, as consciousness that he rdmains the same sub.
stance would be: since the same property cannot be
transferred from one substance to another.
But though we are thus certain, that we are the same
agents, living beings, or substances, now, which we were
as far back as our remembrance reaches; yet it is asked,
whether we may not possibly be deceived in it? And
this question may be asked at the end of any demonstration whatever: because it is a question concerning the
truth of perception by memory. And he who can doubt,
whether perception by memory can in this case be depended upon, Tri.f'dou'bt also, whether perception by
deduction andfL _..i;=ning, which also include memory, or
indeed whether intuitive perception can. Here then we
can go no further. For it is ridiculous to attempt to prove
the truth of those perceptions, whose truth we can no
otherwise prove, than by other perceptions of exactly
the same kind with them, and which there is just the
same ground to suspect; or to attempt to prove the truth
of our faculties, which can no otherwise be proved, than
by the use or means of those very suspected faculties
themselves.
DISSERTATION II.
OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE.
THAT which renders beings capable of moral gorernment, is their having a moral nature, and moral faculties
of perception and of action. Brute creatures are impressed and actuated by various instincts and propensions: so
also are we. But additional to this, we have a capacity
of reflecting upon actions and characters, and making
them an object to our thought: and on doing this, we
naturally and unavoidably approve some actions, under the
peculiar view of their being virtuous and of good desert;




304             OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE.                   [Diss. L
and disapprove others, as vicious and of ill desert. That
we have this moral approving and disapproving" faculty,
is certain from our experiencing it in ourselves, and recognizing it in each other. It appears from our exercising it
unavoidably, in the approbation and disapprobation even
of feigned characters: from the words right and wrong,
odious and amiable, base and worthy, with many others
of like signification in all languages applied to actions and
characters: from the many written systems of morals'which suppose it; since it cannot be imagined, that all
these authors, throughout all these treatises, had absolutely no meaning at all to their words, or a meaning
merely chimerical: from our natural sense of gratitude,
which implies a distinction between merely being the
instrument of good, and intending it: from the like distinction every one makes between injury and -mere harm,
which, Hobbes says, is peculiar to mankind; and between
injury and just punishment, a distinction plainly natural,
prior to the consideration of human laws. It is manifest
great partt of common language, and of common behaviour over the world, is formed upon supposition of such
a moral faculty; whether called conscience, moral reason,
moral sense, or divine reason; whether considered as a
sentiment of the understanding, or as a perception of
the heart; or, which seems the truth, as including both.
Nor is it at all doubtful in the general, what course of
action this faculty, or practical discerning power within
us, approves and what it disapproves. For, as much as
it has been disputed wherein virtue consists, or whatever
ground for doubt there may be about particulars; yet, in
general, there is in reality a universally acknowledged
standard  of it.  It is that, which all ages and all countries have made profession of in public: it is that, which
every man you meet puts on the show of: it is that
* This way of speaking is taken from Epictetus,t and is made use of as seeming
the most full, and least liable to cavil. And the moral faculty may be understood to
have these two epithets, aaoxlxoa~x'i and &ro.ox/,ch0ax-s, upon a double account; E.cause, upon a survey of actions, whether before or after they are done, it determines
them to be gooqd or evil; and also because it determines itself' to be the guide of action and of life, in contradistinction from all other faculties, or natural principles of
action; in the very same manner as speculative reason directly and naturally judges
of speculative truth and falsehood: and at the same time is attended with a conscioat.
%ess upon reflection, that the natural right to judge of them belongs to it.
t Arr. i;pict. lib. i. cap L




Diss. II]     OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE.            305
which the primary and fundamental laws of all civil constitutions over the face of the earth make it their business
and endeavour to enforce the practice of upon mankind:
namely justice, veracity, and regard to common good.
It being manifest then, in general, thaf we have such a
faculty or discernment as this, it may b~ of use to remark
some things more distinctly concerning it.
First, It ought to be observed, that the object of this
faculty is actions,* comprehending under that name active
or practical principles: those principles from which men
would act, if occasions and circumstances gave them
power; and which, when fixed and habitual in any per
son, we call his character. It does not appear, that
brutes have the least reflex sense of actions, as distin
guished from events: or that will and design, which
constitute the very nature of actions as such, are at all
an object to their perception.  But to ours they are: and
they are the object, and the only one, of the approving
and disapproving faculty. Acting conduct, behaviour,
abstracted from all regard to what is in fact and event,
the consequence of it, is itself the natural object of the
moral discernment; as speculative truth and falsehood
is of speculative reason. Intention of such and such
consequences, indeed, is always included; for it is part
of the action itself: but though the intended good or bad
consequences do not follow, we have exactly the same
sense of the action as if they did. In like manner we
think well or ill of characters, abstracted from all consideration of the good or the evil, which persons of
such characters have it actually in their power to do.
We never, in the moral way, applaud or blame either
ourselves or others, for what we enjoy or what we suffer,
or for having impressions made upon us which we consider as altogether out of our power: but only for what
we do, or would have done, had it been in our power:
or for what we leave undone, which we might have
done, or would have left undone, though we could have
done it.
Secondly, Our sense or discernment of actions as
*.ol2, z x~- a X,~ X,,; — rI urfs,, oX IeyVO, I M. Antou. lib. ki. if. Vkru
iaus o0,ilis u' actione consistit.   Cic. Off. lib. i. cap. 6.
U




306          OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE.         j[Dm.IT
morally good or evil, implies in it a sense or discernment of them as of good or ill discernment.  It may be
difficult to explain this perception, so as to answer all
the questions which may be asked concerning it: but
every one speaks of such and such actions as deserving
punishment; and it is not, I suppose, pretended, that
they have absolutely no meaning at all to the expression. Now the meaning plainly is not, that we conceive
it for the good of society, that the doer of such actions
should be made to suffer. For if, unhappily, it were
resolved, that a man, who, by some innocent action,
was infected with the plague, should be left to perish,
lest, by other people's coming near him, the infection
should spread; no one would say he deserved this treatment.  Innocence and ill desert are inconsistent ideas.
Ill desert always supposes guilt: and if one be no part
of the other, yet they are evidently and naturally connected in our mind. The sight of a man in misery
raises our compassion towards him; and, if this misery be
inflicted on him by another, our indignation against the
author of it.  But when we are informed, that the sufferer is a villain, and is punished only for his treachery
or cruelty; our compassion exceedingly lessens, and in
many instances our indignation wholly subsides.  Now
what produces this effect is the conception of that in the
sufferer, which we call ill desert.  Upon considering
then, or viewing together, our notion of vice and that of
misery, there results a third, that of ill desert. And
thus there is in human creatures an association of the
two ideas, natural and moral evil, wickedness and
punishment.  If this association were merely artificial
or accidental, it were nothing: but being most unquestionably natural, it greatly concerns us to attend to it,
instead of endeavouring to explain it away,
It may be observed further, concerning our perception of good and of ill desert, that the former is very
weak with respect to common instances of virtue. One
reason of which may be, that it does not appear to a
spectator, how far such instances of virtue proceed fromn
t virtuous principle, or in what degree this principle is
prevalent: since a very weak regard to virtue may be




Oss. 1.3   O3F THE NATURE OF VIRTUE.           307
sufficient to make men act well in many common instances. And on the other hand, our perception of ill
desert in vicious actions lessens, in proportion to the
temptations men are thought to have had to such vices.
For, vice in human creatures consisting chiefly in the
absence or want of the virtuous principle; though a man
be overcome, suppose, by tortures, it does not from
thence appear to what degree the virtuous principle was
wanting. All that appears is, that he had it not in such
a degree, as to prevail over the temptation; but possibly
he had it in a degree, which would have rendered him
proof against common temptations.
Thirdly, Our perception of vice and ill desert arises
from, and is the result of, a comparison of actions with
the nature and capacities of the agent.  For the mere
neglect of doing what we ought to do, would, in many
cases, be determined by all men to be in the highest
degree vicious. And this determination must arise from
such comparison, and be the result of it; because such
neglect would not be vicious in creatures of other natures and capacities, as brutes.  And it is the same
also with respect to positive vices, or such as consist in
doing what we ought not. For, every one has a different sense of harm done by an idiot, madman, or child,
and by one of mature and common understanding;
though the action of both, including the intention, which
is part of the action, be the same: as it may be, since
idiots and madmen, as well as children, are capable not
only of doing mischief, but also of intending it. Now
this difference must arise from somewhat discerned in
the nature or capacities of one, which renders the action
vicious; and the want of which, in the other, renders
the same action innocent or less vicious: and this plainly
supposes a comparison, whether reflected upon or not,
between the action and capacities of the agent, previous
to our determining an action to be vicious. And hence
arises a proper application of the epithets, incongruous,
unsuitable, disproportionate, unfit, to actions which our
moral faculty determines to be vicious.
Fourthily, It deserves to be considered, whether men
are more at liberty, in point of morals, to make them.




M)8         OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE.         [Do.1n
selves miserable without reason, than to make other
people so: or dissolutely to neglect their own greater
good, for the sake of a present lesser gratification, than
they are to neglect the good of others, whom nature has
committed to their care. It should seem, that a due
concern about our own interest or happiness, and a reasonable endeavour to secure and promote it, which is, I
think, very much the meaning of the word prudence, in
our language; it should seem, that this is virtue, and the
contrary behaviour faulty and blamable; since, in the
calmest way of reflection, we approve of the first, and
condemn the other conduct, both in ourselves and others.
This approbation and disapprobation are altogether different from mere desire of our own, or of their happiness, and from sorrow upon missing it. For the object
or occasion of this last kind of perception is satisfaction
or uneasiness::whereas the object of the first is active
behaviour.  In one case, what our thoughts fix upon
is our condition: in the other, our conduct.  It is true
indeed, that nature has not given us so sensible a disapprobation of imprudence and folly, either in ourselves
or others, as of falsehood, injustice, and cruelty: I suppose, because that constant habitual sense of. private interest and good, which we always carry about with us,
renders such sensible disapprobation less necessary, less
wanting, to keep us from imprudently neglecting our
own happiness, and foolishly injuring ourselves, than it
is necessary and wanting to keep us from injuring others,
to whose good we cannot have so strong and constant a
regard: and also because imprudence and folly, appearing to bring its own punishment more immediately and
constantly than injurious behaviour, it less needs the additional punishment, which would be inflicted upon it
by others, had they the same sensible indignation
against it, as against injustice, and fraud, and cruelty.
Besides, unhadppiness being in itself the natural object
of compassion;* the unhappiness which people bring upon themselves, though it be wilfully, excites in us some
pity for them: and this of course lessens our displeasure
against them. But still it is matter of experience, that
we are formed so as to reflect very severely upon the




D;,s. II.]   OF THE NNATURE OF VIRTUE.        ~3!ir'eater instances of imprudent neglect and foolish rash.
ness, both in ourselves and others.  In instances of this
kind, men often say of themselves with remorse, and ot
others with some indignation, that they deserved to suffer such calamities, because they brought them  upon
themselves, and would not take warning. Particularly,
when persons come to poverty and distress by a long
course of extravagance, and after frequent admonitions,
though without falsehood or injustice; we plainly, do not
regard such people as alike objects of compassion with
those, who are brought into the same condition by unavoidable accidents. From these things it appears, that
prudence is a species of virtue, and folly of vice: meaning byfolly, somewhat quite different from mere incapacity; a thoughtless want of that regard and attention
to our own happiness, which we had capacity for. And
this the word properly includes; and, as it seems, in its
usual acceptation: for we scarcely apply it to brute creatures.
However, if any person be disposed to dispute the
matter, I shall very willingly give him up the words
Virtue and Vice, as not applicable to prudence and folly: but must beg leave to insist, that the faculty within
us, which is the judge of actions, approves of prudent
actions, and disapproves imprudent ones: I say prudent
and imprudent actions as such, and considered distinctly
from the happiness or misery which they dccasion.
And, by the way, this observation may help to determine what justness there is in that objection against religion, that it teaches us to be interested and selfish.
Fifthly, Without inquiring how far, and in what sense,
virtue is resolvable into benevolence, and vice ilto the
want of it; it may be proper to observe, that benevolence, and the want of it, singly considered, are in no
sort the whole of virtue and vice. For if this were the
case, in the review of one's own character, or that of
others, our moral understanding and moral sense would
be indifferent to every thing, but the degrees in which
benevolence prevailed, and the degrees in which it was
wanting. That is, we should neither approve of benevolence to some persons rather than to others, nor dis



310         OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE.       [DIts. n.
approve injustice and falsehood upon any other account,
than merely as an overbalance of happiness was foreseen likely to be produced by the first, and of misery
by the second. But now, on the contrary, suppose two
men competitors for any thing whatever, which would
be of equal advantage to each of them; though nothing
indeed would be more impertinent, than for a stranger
to busy himself to get one of them preferred to the
othcr; yet such endeavour would be virtue, in behalf of
a friend or benefactor, abstracted from all consideration
of distant consequence: as that examples of gratitude,
and the cultivation of friendship, would be of general
good to the world. Again, suppose one man should,
by fraud or violence, take from another the fruit of his
labour, with intent to give it to a third, who he thought
would have as much pleasure from it as would balance
the pleasure which the first possessor would have had
in the enjoyment, and his vexation in the loss of it;
suppose also that no bad consequences would follow:
yet such an action would surely be vicious.  Nay,
further, were treachery, violence, and injustice, no
otherwise vicious, than as foreseen likely to produce an
overbalance of misery to society; then, if in any case a
man could procure to himself as great advantage by an
act of injustice, as the whole foreseen inconvenience,
likely to be brought upon others by it, would amount
to; such a piece of injustice would not be faulty or
vicious at all: because it would be no more than, in any
other case, for a man to prefer his own satisfaction to
another's in equal degrees. The fact, then, appears to
be, that we are constituted so as to condemn falsehood,
unprovoked violence, injustice, and to approve of benevolence to some preferably to others, abstracted from all
consideration, which conduct is likeliest to produce an
overbalance of happiness or misery.  And therefore,
were the Author of nature to propose nothing to himself'
as an end but the production of happiness, were his
moral character merely that of benevolence; yet ours is
not so. Upon that supposition indeed, the only reason
of his giving us the above mentioned approbation of
benevolence to some persons rather than others, and




D  ni.]      OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE.          811
disapprobation of falsehood, unprovoked violence, and
injustice, must be, that he foresaw this constitution of'our nature would produce more happiness, than forming
us with a temper of mere general benevolence.  But
still, since this is our constitution; falsehood, violence,
injustice, must be vice in us, and benevolence to some,
preferably to others, virtue; abstracted from all consideration of the overbalance of evil or good, which they
may appear likely to produce.
Now if human creatures are endued with such a moral
nature as we have been explaining, or with a moral
faculty, the natural object of which is actions: moral
government must consist in rendering them happy and
unhappy, in rewarding and punishing them, as they
follow, neglect, or depart from, the moral rule of action
interwoven in their nature, or suggested and enforced
by this moral faculty;* in rewarding and punishing them
upon account of their so doing.
I am not sensible that I have, in this fifth observation, contradicted what any author designed to assert.
But some of great and distinguished merit, have, I think,
expressed themselves in a manner, which may occasion
some danger, to careless readers, of imagining the whole
of virtue to consist in singly aiming, according to the
best of their judgment, at promoting the happiness or
mankind in the present state; and the whole of vice, in
doing what they foresee, or might foresee, is likely to
produce an overbalance of unhappiness in it: than which
mistakes, none can be conceived more terrible. For it
is certain, that some of the most shocking instances of
injustice, adultery, murder, perjury, and even of persecution, may, in many supposable cases, not have the
appearance of being likely to produce an overbalance of
misery in the present state; perhaps sometimes may
leave the contrary appearance. For this reflection might
easily be carried on, but I forbear.-The happiness of
the world is the concern of him who is the lord and the
proprietor of it: nor do we know what we are about,
when we endeavour to promote the good of mankind in
lny ways, but those which he has directed; sthat is
*P.' 145.




312         OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE.        [Drn. n,
indeed in all ways not contrary to veracity and justice.
I speak thus upon supposition of persons really endeavouring, in some sort, to do good without regard to
these. But the truth seems to be, that such supposed
endeavours proceed, almost always, from ambition, the
spirit of party, or some indirect principle, concealed
perhaps in great measure from persons themselves.
And though it is our business and our duty to -endeavour, within the bounds of veracity and justice, to contribute to the ease, convenience, and even cheerfulness
and diversion of our fellow creatures: yet, from our
short views, it is greatly uncertain, whether this endeavour will, in particular instances, produce an overbalance
of happiness upon the whole; since so many and distant
things must come into the. account. And that which
makes it our duty is, that there is some appearance that
it will, and no positive appearance sufficient to balance
this, on the contrary side; and also, that such benevolent
endeavour is a cultivation of that most excellent of all
virtuous principles, the active principle of benevolence.
However, though veracity, as well as justice, is to be
our rule of life; it nlust be added, otherwise a snare will
be laid in the way of solne plain men, that the use of
common forms of speech, generally understood, cannot be
falsehood; and, in general, that there can be no designed
falsehood without designing to deceive. It must likewise be observed, that in numberless cases, a man may
be under the strictest obligations to what he foresees
will deceive, without his intending it. For it is impossible not to foresee, that the words and actions of men,
in different ranks and employments, and of different
educations, will perpetually be mistaken by each other:
Iand it cannot but be so, Whilst they will judge with the
utmost carelessness, as they daily do, of what they are
not, perhaps, enough informed to be competent judges
of, even though they considered it with great attention.
BND OF rANA'LOGY,




SERMONS
BY THE
RIGHT REVEREND FATHER IN GOD,
JOSEPH BUTLER, D.C.L.,
LATE
LORD BISHOP OF DURHAM.
NEW YORK:
ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS
No. 530 BROADWAY.
1873.








PRE FA C Er
THoUGII it is scarce possible to avoid judging, in some
way or other, of almost ever: hlLlg which offers itself to
one's thoughts; yet it is certain, that many persons, from
different causes, never exercise their judgment, upon
what comes before them, in the way of determining whether it be conrcl.usive, and holds. They are pel'.a s   ntertained with some things, not so with others; they like,
and they dislike: but whether that which is proposed to
be Made out be really made out or not; whether a matter
be siate,] according to the real truth of the case, seemr,'.
the generality of people merely a circumstance of no consideration at all. Arguments are often wanted for some
accidental purpose: but proof, as such, is what they never
want for themselves; for their own satisfaction of mind,
or conduct in life.  Not to mention the multitudes who
read merely for the sake of talking, or to qualify themselves for the world, or some such kind of reasons; there
are, even of the few who read for their own entertain
ment, and have a real curiosity to see what is said, several, which is prodigious, who have no sort of curiosity
to see what is true: I say, curiosity; because it is too obvious to be ment;oned, how much that religious and sacred attention, which is due to truth, and to the important question, What is the rule of life P is lost but of the
world.
For the sake of this whole class of readers, for they
are of different capacities, different kinds, and get -into
this way from different occasions, I have often wished
that it had been the custom to lay before people nothing
in matters of argument but premises, and leave them to
draw corclusions themselves; which, though it could not
be done in all cases, might in many.
The great number of books and papers of amusement,
4




iv                  PREFACE.
which, of one kind or another, daily come in one's way,
have in part occasioned, and most perfectly fall in with
and humour, this idle way of reading and considering
things. By this means, time even in solitude is happily
got rid of, without the pain of attention: neither is
any part of it more put to the account of idleness, one
can scarce forbear saying, is spent with less thought,
than great part of that which is spent in reading.
Thus people habituate themselves to let things pass
through their minds, as one may speak, rather than to
think of them. Thus by use they become satisfied
merely with seeing what is said, without going any further. Review and attention, and even forming a judgment, becomes fatigue; and to lay any thing before them
that requires it, is putting them quite out of their way.
There are also persons, and there are at least more
of them than have a right to claim such superiority, who.
take for granted, that they are acquainted with every
thing; and that no subject, if treated in the manner it
should be, can be treated in any manner but what is
familiar and easy to them.
It is true indeed, that few persons have a right to demand attention; but it is also true, that nothing can be
understood without that degree of it, which the very nature of the thing requires. Now morals, considered as
a science, concerning which speculative difficulties are
daily raised, and treated with regard to those difficulties,
plainly require a very peculiar attention. For here
ideas never are in themselves determinate, but become
so by the train of reasoning and the place they stand in;
since it is impossible that words can always stand foi
the same ideas, even in the same author, much less in
different ones. Hence an argument may not readily be
apprehended, which is different from its being mistaken; and even caution to avoid being mistaken may, in
some cases, render it less readily apprehended. It is
very unallowable fo:T d. wrrk of imagination or entertainment not to be of easy comprehension, but may be unavoidable in a work of another kind, where a man is not
to form or accommodate, but to state things as he finds
them.




PREFACE.                  V
It must be acknowledged, that some of the following
Discourses are very abstruse and difficult; or, if you
please, obscure; but I must take leave to add, that those
alone are judges, whether or no and how far this is a
fault, who are judges, whether or no and how far it might
have been avoided -those only who will be at the trouble to understand what is here said, and to see how far
the things here insisted upon, and not other things, might
have been put in a plainer manner; which yet I am very
far from asserting that they could not.
Thus much however will be allowed, that general
criticisms concerning obscurity considered as a distinct
thing from confusion and perplexity of thought, as in
some cases there may be ground for them; so in
others, they may be nothing more at the bottom than
complaints, that every thing is not to be understood with
the same ease that some things are. Confusion and
perplexity in writing is indeed without excuse, because
any one may, if he pleases, know whether he understands
and sees through what he is about: and it is unpardonable for a man to lay his thoughts before others, when
he is conscious that he himself does not know whereabouts
he is, or how the matter before him stands. It is coming abroad in disorder, which he ought to be dissatisfied
to find himself in at home.
But even obscurities arising from other causes than
the abstruseness of the argument may not be always
inexcusable. Thus a subject may be treated in a manner, which all along supposes the reader acquainted with
what has been said upon it, both by ancient and modern
writers; and with what is the present state of opinion in
the world concerning such subject. This will create a
difficulty of a very peculiar kind, and even throw an
obscurity over the whole before those who are not thus
informed; but those who are will be disposed to excuse
such a manner, and other things of the like kind, as a
saving of their patience.
However upon the whole, as the title of Sermons gives;eome right to expect what is plin and of easy compreW
kension, and as the best auditories are mixed, I shall not
set about to justify the propriety of preaching, or under




VI                   PREFACE,
that title publishing, Discourses so abstruse as some oi
these are' neither is it worth while to trouble the reader
with the account of my doing either. He must not however impute to me, as a repetition of the impropriety, this
second edition,' but to the demand for it.
Whether he will think he has any amends made him
by the following illustrations of what seemed most to
require them, I myself am by no means a proper judge.
There are two ways in which the subject of morals
may be treated. One begins from inquiring into the
abstract relations of things: the other from a matter of
fact, namely, what the particular nature of man is, its
several parts, their economy or constitution; from
whence it proceeds to determine what course of life it
is, which is correspondent to this whole nature. In the
former method the conclusion is expressed thus, that
vice is contrary to {:&l  nature al~l reason of things: in
the latter, that it is a "'iolation or breaking in upon our
own nature. Thus they both lead us to the same thing,
our obligations to the practice of virtue; and thus they
exceedingly strengthen and enforce each other. The
first seems the most direct formal proof, and in some
respects the least liable to cavil and dispute: the latter
is in a peculiar manner adapted to satisfy a fair mind;
and is more easily applicable to the several particular
relations and circumstances in life.
The following Discourses proceed chiefly in this latter
method. The three first wholly. They were intended
to explain what is meant by the nature of man, when it
is said that virtue consists in following, and vice in
deviating from it; and by explaining to show that the
assertion is true. That the ancient moralists had some
inward feeling or other, which they chose to express in
this manner, that man is born to virtue, that it consists
in following nature, and that vice is more contrary to
this nature than tortures or death, their works in our
hands are instances.   Now  a person who found no
mystery in this way of speaking of the ancients; who,
without being very explicit with himself, kept to his
natural feeling, went along with them, and found within
* The preface stands exactly as it did before the secozd edition of the Sermor.




PREFACE.                   Vii
himself a full conviction, that what they laid d(own was
Just and true; such a one would probably wonder to see
a point, in which he never perceived any difficulty, so
laboured as this is, in the second and third Sermons;
insomuch perhaps as to be at a loss for the occasion,
scope, and drift of them. But it need not be thought
strange that this manner of expression, though familiar
with them, and, if not usually carried so far, vet not
uncommon amongst ourselves, should want explaining;
since there are several perceptions daily felt and spoken
of, which yet it may not be very easy at first view to
explicate, to distinguish from all others, and ascertain
exactly what the idea or perception is.  The many
treatises upon the passions are a proof of this; since so
many would never have und: rtaken to unfold their
several complications, and trace. and resolve them into
their principles, if thei, had thogh ~t, what they were
endeavouring to show;as obvious to every one, who
felt and talked of those passions.  Thus, though there
seems no ground to doubt, but that the generality of
mankind have the inward perception expressed s-o comrionly in that manner by the ancient moralists, more
than to doubt whether they have those passions; yet it
appeared of use to unfold tnat inward conviction, and
lay it open in a more explicit manner, than I had seen
done; especially when there were not wanting persons,
who manifestly mistook the whole thing, and so had
great reason to express themselves dissatisfied with it.
A late author of great and deserved reputation says,
that to place virtue in following nature, is at best a loose
way of talk. And he has reason to say this, if what I
think he intends to express, though with great decency,
b'e true, that scarce any other sense can be put upon
those words, but acting as any of the several parts,
without' distinction, of a man's nature happened most to
incline him.*
Whoever thinks it worth while to consider this matter
thoroughly, should begin with stating to himself exactly
the idea of a system, economy, or constitution of any
particular nature, or particular any thing: and he will,
* ReL of Nature DelIn. ed. 1724. pp. 22, 23.




VWii                PREFACE.
I suppose, find, that it is a one or a whole, made up of
several parts; but yet, that the several parts even considered as a whole do not complete the idea, unless in
the notion of a whole you include the relations and
respects which those parts have to each other.  Every
work both of nature and of art is a system: and as every
particular thing, both natural and artificial, is for some
use or purpose out of and beyond itself, one may add,
to what has been already brought into the idea of a system, its conduciveness to this one or more ends. Let
us instance in a watch-Suppose the several parts of it
taken to pieces, and placed apart from each other; let a
man have ever so exact a notion of these several parts,
unless he considers the respects and relations which they
have to each other, he will not have any thing like the
idea of a watch. Suppose these several parts brought
together and any how united: neither will he yet, be the
union ever so close, have an idea which will bear any
resemblance to that of a watch. But let him view those
several parts put together, or consider them as to be
put together in the manner of a watch; let him form a
notion of the relations which those several parts have to
each other-all conducive in their respective ways to
this purpose, showing the hour of the day; and then he
has the idea of a watch. Thus it is with regard to the'inward frame of man. Appetites, passions, affections,
and the principle of reflection, considered merely as the
several parts of our inward nature, do not at all give us
an idea of the system or constitution of this nature;
because the constitution is formed by somewhat not yet
taken into consideration, namely, by the relations which
these several parts have to each other; the chief of which
is the authority of reflection or conscience.  It is from
considering the relations which the several appetites and
passions in the inward frame have to each other, and,
above all, the supremacy of reflection or conscience, that
we get the idea of the system or constitution of human
nature. And from the idea itself it will as fully appear,
that this our nature, i. e. constitution, is adapted to virtue,
as from the idea of a watch it appears, that its nature,
i. e. constitlltion or system, is adapted to measure time.




PREFACE.                  IX
What in fact or event commonly happens is nothing to
this question. Every work of art is apt to be out of
order: but this is so far from being according to its
system, that let the disorder increase, and it will totally
destroy it. This is merely by way of explanation, what
an economy, system, or constitution is. And thus far
the cases are perfectly parallel.  If we go further, there
is indeed a difference, nothing to the present purpose,
but too important a one ever to be omitted. A machine
is inanimate and passive: but we are agents. Our constitution is put in our own power. We are charged
with it; and therefore are accountable for any disorder
or violation of it.
Thus nothing can possibly be more contrary to nature
than vice; meaning by nature not only the several parts
of our internal frame, but also the constitution of it.
Poverty and disgrace, tortures and death, are not so
contrary to it.  Misery and injustice are indeed equally
contrary to some different parts of our nature taken
singly: but injustice is moreover contrary to the whole
constitution of the nature.
If it be asked, whether this constitution be really
what those philosophers meant, and whether they would
have explained themselves in this manner; the answer
is the same, as if it should be asked, whether a person,
who had often used the word resentment, and felt the
thing, would have explained this passion exactly in the
same manner, in which it is done in one of these Discourses. As I have no doubt, but that this is a true
account of that passion, which he referred to and intended to express by the word resentment; so I have no
doubt, but that this is the true account of the ground of
that conviction which they referred to, when they said,
vice was contrary to nature. And though it should be
thought that thev meant no more than that vice was
contrary to the higher and better part of our nature;
even this implies such a constitution as I have endeavoured to explain.  For the very terms, higher and
better, imply a relation or respect of parts to each other;
and these relative parts, being in one and the same na.
ture, form a constitution, and are the very idea of it.




X                   PREFACOF.
They had a perception that injustice was contrary to
their nature, and that pain was so also. They observed
these two perceptions totally different, not in degree,
but in kind: and the reflecting upon each of them, as
they thus stood in their nature, wrought a full intuitive
conviction, that more was due and of right belonged to
one of these inward perceptions, than to the other; that
it demanded in all cases to govern such a creature as
man. So that, upon the whole, this is a fair and true
account of what was the ground of theii' conviction; of
what they intended to refer to, when they said, virtue
consisted in following nature: a manner of speaking not
loose and undeterminate, but clear and distinct, strictly
just and "true.
Though I am persuaded the force of this conviction is
felt by almost every one; yet since, considered as an
argument and put in words, it appears somewhat abstruse,
and since the connexion of it is broken in the three first
Sermons, it may not be amiss to give the reader the
whole argument here in one view.
Mankind has various instincts and principles of action,
is brute creatures have; some leading most directly and
mmediately to the good of the community, and some.nost directly to private good.
Man has several which brutes have not; particularly
-eflection or conscience, an approbation of some principles or actions, and disapprobation of others.
Brutes obey their instincts or principles of action,
accordingto certain rules; suppose the constitution of
their body, and the objects around them.
The generality of mankind also obey their instincts
and principles, all of them; those propensions we call
good, as well as the bad, according to the same rules;
namely, the constitution of their body, and the external
circumstances which they are in.  [Therefore it is not
a true representation of mankind to affirm, that they
are wholly governed by self-love, the love of power, and
sensual appetites: since, as on the one hand they are
often actuated by these, without any regard to right or
wrong; so on the other it is manifest fact, that the same
persons, the generality, are frequently influenced by




PREFACE.                    XI
friendship, compassion, gratitude; and even a general
abhorrence of what is base, and liking of what is fair
and just, takes its turn amongst the other motives of
action. This is the partial inadequate notion of human
nature treated of in the first Discourse: and it is by this
nature; if one may speak so, that the world is in fact
influenced, and kept in that tolerable order, in which it
is.]
Brutes in acting according to -the rules before mentioned, their bodily constitution and circumstances, act
suitably to their whole nature.  [It is however to be
distinctly noted, that the reason why we affirm this is
not merely that brutes in fact act so; for this alone,
however universal, does not at all determine, whether
such course of action be correspondent to their whole nature: but the reason of the assertion is, that as in acting
thus they plainly act conformably to somewhat in their
nature, so, from all observations we are able to make
upon them, there does not appear the least ground to
imagine them to have any thing else in their nature,
which requires a different rule or course of action.]
Mankind also in acting thus would act suitably to
their whole nature, if no more were to be said of manl's
nature than what has been now said; if that, as it is a true,
were also a complete, adequate account of our nature.
But that is not a complete account of man's nature.
Somewhat further must be brought in to give us an adequate notion of it; namely, that one of those principles
of action, conscience or reflection, compared with the
rest as they all stand' together in the nature of man,
plainly bears upon it marks of authority over all the rest,
and claims the absolute direction of them all, to allow or
forbid their gratification: a disapprobation of reflection
being in itself a principle manifestly superior to a mere
propension. And the conclusion is, that to allow no
more to this superior principle or part of our nature,
than to other parts; to let it govern and guide only occasionally in common with the rest, as its turn happens to
come, from the temper and circumstances one happens
to be in; this is not to act conformably to the constitution of man: neither can any human creature be said to




Xii                 PREFACE.
act conformably to his constitution of nature, unless he
allows to that superior principle the absolute authority
which is due to it. And this conclusion is abundantly
confirmed from hence, that one may determine what
course of action the economy of man's nature requires,
without so much as knowing in what degrees of strength
the several principles prevail, or which of them have
actually the greatest influence.
The practical reason of insisting so much upon this
natural authority of the principle of reflection or conscience is, that it seems in great measure overlooked by
many, who are by no means the worst sort of men. It
is thought sufficient to abstain from gross wickedness,
and to be humane and kind to such as happen to come
in their way. Whereas in reality the very constitution
of our nature requires, that we bring our whole conduct
before this superior facultv; wait its determination; enforce upon ourselves its authority, and make it the business of our lives, as it is absolutely the whole business
of a moral agent, to conform  ourselves to it.  This is
the true meaning of that ancient precept, Reverence thyself.
The not taking into consideration this authority, which
is implied in the idea of reflex approbation or disapprobation, seems a material deficiency or omission in lord
Shaftesbury's Inquiry concerning Virtue. He has shown
beyond all contradiction, that virtue is naturally the interest or happiness, and vice the misery, of such a creature as man, placed in the circumstances which we are
in this world. But suppose there are particular exccp -
tions: a case which this author was unwilling to put, ale'
yet surely it is to be put: or suppose a case which he has
put and determined, that of a sceptic not convinced (f
this happy tendency of virtue, or being of a contrary
opinion. His determination is, that it would be without
remedy. *  One may say more explicitly, that leaving out
the authority of reflex approbation or disapprobation,
such a one would be under an obligation to act viciously; since interest, one's own happiness, is % manifest
obligation, and there is not supposed to be any other
* Characteristics, vol. ii. p. 69.




PREFACE.                  X1ii
obligation in the case. "But does it much mend the
matter, to take in that natural authority of reflection?
There indeed would be an obligation to virtue; but
would not the obligation from supposed interest on the
side of vice remain?" If it should, yet to be under two
contrary obligations, i. eo under none at all, would not
be exactly the same, as to bo under a formal obligation
to be vicious, or to be in circumstances in which the
constitution of man's nature plainly required that vice
should be preferred.  But the obligation on the side of
interest really does not remain. For the natural authority of the principle of reflection is an obligation the
most near and intimate, the most certain and known:
whereas the contrary obligation can at the utmost appear
no more than probable; since no man can be certain in
any circumstances that vice is his interest in the present
world, much less can he be certain against another: and
thus the certain obligation would entirely supersede and
destroy the uncertain one; which yet would have been
of real force without the former.
In truth, the taking in this consideration  totally
changes the whole state of the case; and shows, what this
author does not seem to have been aware of, that the
greatest degree of scepticism which he thought possible
will still leave men under the strictest moral obligations,
whatever their opinion be concerning the happiness of
virtue. For that mankind upon reflection felt an approbation of what was good, and disapprobation of the contrary, he thought a plain matter of fact, as it undoubtedly
is, which none could deny, but from mere affectation,
Take in then that authority and obligation, which is a
constituent part of this reflex approbation, and it will
undeniably follow, though a man should doubt of every
thing else, yet, that he would still remain under the
nearest and most certain obligation to the practice of
virtue; an obligation implied in the very idea of virtue, in
the very idea of reflex approbation.
And how little influence soever this obligation alone
can be expected to have in fact upon mankind, yet one
may appeal even to interest and self-love, and ask, since
fiom man's nature, condition, and the shortness of life,




XlV                  PREFACE.
so little, so very little indeed, can possibly in any case be
gained by vice; whether it be so prodigious a thing to
sacrifice that little to the most intimate of all obligations;
and which a man cannot transgress without being selfcondemned, and, unless he has corrupted his nature,
without real self-dislike: this question, I say, may be
asked, even upon supposition that the prospect of a future life were ever so uncertain.
The observation, that man is thus by his very nature
a law to himself, pursued to its just consequences, is of
the utmost importance; because from it it will follow, that
though men should, through stupidity or speculative scepticism, be ignorant of, or disbelieve, any authority in the
universe to punish the violation of this law; yet, if there
should be such authority, they would be as really liable
to punishment, as though they had been beforehand
convinced, that such punishment would follow. For in
whatever sense we understand justice, even supposing,
what I think would be very presumptuous to assert, that
the end of divine punishment is no other than that of
civil punishment, namely, to prevent future mischief;
upon this bold supposition, ignorance or disbelief of the
sanction would by no means exempt even from this justice: because it is not foreknowledge of the punishment
which renders us obnoxious to it; but merely violating
a known obligation.
And here it comes in one's way to take notice of a
manifest error or mistake in the author now cited, unless perhaps he has incautiously expressed himself so as
to be misunderstood; namely, that it is malice only, and
not goodness, which can make us afraid.'  Whereas in
reality, goodness is the natural and just object of the
greatest fear to an ill man. Malice may be appeased
or satiated; humour may change, but goodness is a
fixed, steady, immovable principle of action. If either
of the former holds the sword of justice, there is plainly
ground for the greatest of crimes to hope for impunity:
but if it be goodness, there can be no possible hope,
whlist the reasons of things, or the ends of government,
~ail for punishment. Thus every one sees how much
*C Chateritic vol i. ap. 




PREFACE.                   XV
greater chance of imnpunity an ill man has in a partial
administration, than in a just and upright one. It is
said, that the interest or good of the whole must be the
interest ofJ' the universal Being, and that he can ]have no
other.  Be it so.  This author has proved, that vice is
naturally the misery of mankind in this world.  Consequently it was for the good of the whole that it should
ibe so.  What shadow of reason then is there to assert,
that this may not be the case hereafterP  Danger of
future punishment (and if there be danger, there is
g;round of f'ar) no more supposes malice, than the present feeling of punishment does.
The Sermon upon the character of Balaam, and that
upon Self:-deceit, both relate to one subject.  I am persuadedl, that a very great part of the wickedness of the
world is, one way or other, owing to the self-partiality,
self-flattery, and self-deceit, endeavoured there to be
laid open and explained.  It is to be observed amongst
persons'of the lowest rank, i'n proportion to their compass of thought, as much as amongst men of education
and improvement. It seems, that people are capable of
being thus artful with themselves, in proportion as they,are capable of being so with others.  Those who have
taken notice that there is really such a thing, namely,
plain falseness and insincerity in men with regard to
themselves, will readily see the drift and design of these
Discourses: and nothing that I can add will explain the
design of them to him, who has not beforehand remarked, at least, somewhat of the character. And yet the
admonitions they contain may be as much wanted by
such a person, as by others; for it is to be noted, that a
man mnay be entirely possessed by this unfairness of
mind, without having the least speculative notion what
the thing is.
The account given of Resentment in the eighth Sermon
is introductory to the following one upon Forgiveness oj
Injta'ie.s.  It may possibly have appealed to some, at
first sight, a straznge assertion, that injury is the only
natural object of settled resentment, or that Inen do not
in fact resent deliberately any thing but under this appearance of injury. But I must desire the reader not




XVi                 PREFACE.
to take any assertion alone by itself, but to consider the
whole of what is said upon it: because this is necessary,
not only in order to judge of the truth of it, but often,
such is the nature of language, to see the very meaning
of the assertion. Particularly as to this, injury and injustice is, in the Sermon itself, explained to mean, not
only the more gross and shocking instances of wickedness, but also contempt, scorn, neglect, any'sort of
disagreeable behaviour towards a person, which he
thinks other than what is due to him. And the general
notion of injury or wrong plainly comprehends this,
though the words are mostly confined to the higher degrees of it.
Forgiveness of injuries is one of the very few moral
obligations which has been disputed. But the proof,
that it is really an obligation, what our nature and condition require, seems very obvious, were it only from
the consideration, that revenge is doing harm merely for
harm's sake. And as to the love of our enemies: resentment cannot supersede the obligation to universal
benevolence, unless they are in the nature of the thing
inconsistent, which they plainly are not.
This divine precept, to forgive injuries and love our
enemies, thQugh to be met with in Gentile moralists,
yet is in a peculiar sense a precept of Christianity; as
our Saviour has insisted more upon it than upon any
other single virtue. One reason of this doubtless is,
that it so peculiarly becomes an imperfect, faulty creature. But it may be observed also, that a virtuous
temper of mind, consciousness of innocence, and good
meaning towards every body, and a strong feeling of
injustice and injury, may itself, such is the imperfection
of our virtue, lead a person to violate this obligation, if
he be not upon his guard. And' it may well be supposed, that this is another reason why it is so much
insisted upon by him, who knew what was in man.
The chief design of the eleventh Discourse is to state
the notion of self-love and disinterestedness, in order
to show that benevolence is not more unfriendly tb
sef-love, than any other particular affection whatever
* Page 16




PREFACE.                        XVI.
There is a strange affectation in many people of explains
ing away all particular affections, and representing the
whole of life as nothing but one continued exercise of
self-love.  Hence arises that surprising  confusion  and
perplexity in the Epicureans* of old, Hobbes, the
author of Reflections, Sentences, et Maximes Morales, and
this whole set of writers; the confusion of calling actions
interested which are done in contradiction to the most
manifest known interest, merely for the gratification of
a present passion. Now all this confusion might easily
be avoided, by stating to ourselves wherein the idea of
self-love in general consists, as distinguished from all
particular movements  towards partic  ar external objects; the appetites of sense, resentment, compassion,
curiosity, ambition, and the rest.t When this is done,
if the words selfish and interested cannot be parted with,
but must b:2 applied to every thing; yet, to avoid such
total confusion of all language, let the distinction be
made by epithets: and the first may be called cool or
settled selfishness, and the other passionate or sensual
selfishness.   But the  most natural way  of speaking! lainly is, to call the first only, self-love, and the actions
proceeding from it, interested: and to say of the latter,
that they are not love to ourselves, but movements
towards somewhat external: honour, power, the harm
or good of another: a.d that the pursuit of these external objects, so far as it proceeds from these movements
(for it may  proceed  from  self-lovet), is no  otherwise
interested, than as every action of every creature must,
from the nature of the thing, be; for no one can act but
frown a desire, or choice, or preference of his own.
Silf-love and  any particular passion  may  be joined
together; and from this complication, it becomes impos* One need only look into Torquatus'sbccount of the Epicurean system, In Cicero's first bI)ok D)e Finibus, to see in what a surprising manner this was done by
them. Thus the desire of praise, and of being beloved, he explains to be no other
than desire of safety: regard to our country, even in the most virtuous character, to
be nothing but regard to ourselves. The author of Relections, 4e. Morales, says,
Curiosity proceeds from interest or pride; which pride also woultl doubtless have
been explained to be self-love. Page 85, ed. 1725. As if there were no such pas
sions in mankind as desire of esteem, or of being beloved, or of knowledge
Hobbes's account of the affections of good-will and pity are instances of the same
kind.
t Page 126, &e.: See the note, page 29.
i




XViii'PREFACE.
sible in numberless instances to determine precisely,
how far an action, perhaps even of one's own, has for
its principle general self-love, or some particular passion.
But this need create no confusion in the ideas themselves of self-love and particular passions. We dis.
tinctly discern what one is, and what the other are:
though we may be uncertain how far one or the other
influences us. And though, from this uncertainty, it
cannot but be that there will be different opinions concerning mankind, as more or less governed by interest;
and some will ascribe actions to self-love, which others
will ascribe to particular passions: yet it is absurd to
say that mankind are wholly actuated by either; since
it is manifest that both have their influence.  For as, on
the one hand, men form a general notion of interest,
some placing it in one thing, and some in another, and
have a considerable regard to it throughout the course
of,their life, which is owing to self-love; so, on the
other hand, they are often set on work by the particular
passions themselves, and a considerable part of life is
spent in the actual gratification of them, i. e. is employ.
ed, not by self-love, but by the passions.
Besides, the very idea of an interested pursuit necessarily presupposes particular passions or appetites;
since the very idea of interest or happiness consists in
this, that an appetite or affection enjoys its object. It is
not because we love ourselves that we find delight in
such and such objects, but because we have particular
affections towards them.  Take away these affections,
and you leave self-love absolutely nothing at all to employ itself about;* no end or object for it to pursue,
excepting only that of avoiding pain.  Indeed the Epicureans, who maintained that absence of pain was the
highest happiness, might, consistently with themselves,
deny all affection, and, if they had so pleased, every
sensual appetite too: but the very idea of interest or'happiness other than absence of pain implies particular
appetites or passions; these being necessary to constitute.that interest or happiness.
The observation, that benevolence is no more disin.
* Page 128.




PREFACE.                   X
terested than any of the common particular passions,*
seems in itself worth being taken notice of.but is insisted
upon to obviate that scorn, which one sees rising upon
the faces of people who are said to know the world, when
mention is made of a disinterested, generous, or publicspirited action.. The truth of that observation might be
made appear in a more formal manner of proof: for
whoever will consider all the possible respects and relations which any particular affection can have to selflove and private interest, will, I think, see demonstrably,
that benevolence is not in any respect more at variance
with self-love, than any other particular affection whatever, but that it is in every respect, at least, as friendly
to it.
If the observation be true, it follows, that self-love and
benevolence, virtue and interest, are not to be opposed,
but only to be distinguished from each other; in the same
way as virtue and any other particular affection, love of
arts, suppose, are to be distinguished. Every thing is
what it is, and not another thing. The goodness or
badness of actions does not arise from hence, that the
epithet, interested or disinterested, may. be applied to
them, any mnore than that any other indifferent epithet,
suppose inquisitive or jealous, may or may not be applied to them; not from their being attended with present
or future pleasure or pain; but from their being what
they are; namely, what becomes such creatures as we
are, what the state of the case requires, or the contrary.
Or in other words, we may judge and determine, that
an action is morally good or evil, before we so much as
consider, whether it be interested or disinterested. This
consideration no more comes in to determine whethei
an action be virtuous, than to determine whether it be
resentful. Self-love in its due degree is as just and
morally good, as any affection whatever. Benevolence
towards particular persons may be to a degree of weakness, and so be blameable: and disinterestedness is so
far from being in itself commendable, that the utmost
possible depravity which we can in imagination conceive,
is that of disinterested cruelty.
* Page 13), &t.
82




XEs                  PREFACE.
Neither does there appear any reason to wish self-love
were weaker in the generality of the world than it is.
The influence which it has seenls plainly owing to its
being constant and habitual, which it cannot but be, and
not to the degree or strength of it. Every caprice of the
imagination, every curiosity of the understanding, every
affection of the heart, is perpetually showing its weakness, by prevailing over it. Men daily, hourly sacrifice
the greatest known interest, to fancy, inquisitiveness,
love, or hatred, any vagrant inclination. The thing to
be lamented is, not that men have so great regard to
their own good or interest in the present world, for they
have not enough;* but that they have so little to the
good of others. And this seems plainly owing to their
being so much engaged in the gratification of particular
passions unfriendly to benevolence, and which happen
to be most prevalent in them, much more than to selflove. As a proof of this may be observed, that there is
no character more void of friendship, gratitude, natural
affection, love to their country, common justice, or more
equally and uniformly hard-hearted, than the abandoned
in, what is called, the way of pleasure-   hard-hearted
and totally without feeling in behalf of others; except
when they cannot escape the sight of distress, and so are
interrupted by it in their pleasures.  And yet it is ridiculous to call such an abandoned course of pleasure interested, when the person engaged in it knows beforehand,
goes on under the feeling and apprehension, that it will be
as ruinous to himself, as to those who depend upon him.
Upon the whole, if the generality of mankind were to
cultivate within themselves the principle of self-love; it
they were to accustom themselves often to set down
and consider, what was the greatest happiness they were
capable of attaining for themselves in this life, and if selflove were so strong and prevalent, as that they would
uniformly pursue this their supposed chief temporal good,
without being diverted from it by any particular passion;
it would manifestly prevent numberless follies and vices.
This was in a great measure the Epicurean system of
philosophy. It is indeed by no means the religious or
* Page 34.




PREFACE.                  XLi
even moral institution of life. Yet, with all the mistakes
men would fall into about interest, it would be less mischievous than the extravagances of mere appetite, will,
and pleasure:'for certainly self-love, though confined to
the interest of this life, is, of the two, a much better guide
than passion,' which has absolutely no bound nor measure, but what is set to it by this self-love, or moral
considerations.
From the distinction above made between self-love,
and the several particular principles or affections in our
nature, we may see how good ground there was for that
assertion, maintained by the several ancient schools of
philosophy against the Epicureans, namely, that virtue
is to be pursued as an end, eligible in and for itself."!
For, if there be any principles or affections in the mind
of man distinct from self-love, that the things those
principles tend towards, or that the objects of those
affections are, each of them, in themselves eligible, to
be pursued upon its own account, and to be rested in
as an end, is implied in the very idea of such principle
or aflection.t They indeed asserted much higher things
of virtue, and with very good reason; but to say thus
much of it, that it is to be pursued for itself, is to say no
more of it, than may truly be said of the object of every
natural affection whatever.
The question, which was a few years ago disputed in
France, concerning the love of God, which was there
called enthusiasm, as it will every where by the generality of the world; this question, I say, answers in
religion to that old one in morals now mentioned. And
both of them are, I think, fully determined by the same
observation, namely, that the very nature of affection,
the idea itself, necessarily implies resting in its object as
an end.
I shall not here add any thing further to what I have
said in the two Discourses upon that most important
subject, but only this: that if we are constituted such
sort of creatures, as from our very nature to feel certain
affections or movements of mind, upon the sight or contemplation of the meanest inanimate part of the creation,
* P. 44.'      t P. 155.




Xtll                PRIEFACIE.
for the flowers of the field have their beauty; certainty
there must be somewhat due to him himself, who is the
Author and Cause of all things; who is more intimately
present to us than any thing else can be, and with whom
we have a nearer and more constant intercourse, than
we can have with any creature: there must be some
movements of mind and heart which correspond to his
perfections, or of which those perfections are the natural
object: and that when we are commanded to love the
Lord our God with all our heart, and with all our mind,
and with all our soul; somewhat more must be meant
than merely that we live in hope of rewards or fear of
punishments from him; somewhat more than this must
be intended: though these regards themselves are most
just and reasonable, and absolutely necessary to be often
recollected in such a world as this.
It may be proper just to advertise the reader, that he
is not to look for any partic 1lar rea{son for the choice o1
the greatest par.t of these Discourses; their being taken
from amongst nwany others, preached in the same place,
through a course of eight years, being in great measure
accidental. Neither is he to expect to find any other
connexion between them, than that uniformity of thought
and design, which will always be found in the writings
of the same person, when he writes with simplicity and
in earnest.
ha~~ep, -Se. 16, 1729.




CONTENTS.
UPON HUMAN NATURE, OR MAN CONSIDERED AS A
MORAL AGENT.
Page:S.RRmON I.-UPON THIE SOCIAL NATURE OF  AN...    25
For as we have many members in one body, and all members have not
the same office: so we being many are one body in Christ, and every
one members one of another. —Romn. xii. 4, 5.
SE:RaIONS 11. III.-UPON  THE NATURAL  SUI'PREM.ACY OF CONSCIENCE..7, 41
For when iile Gentiles, which have not the law, do by nature the things
contained in the law, these, having not thlie law, are a law to themselves.-Rom. ii. 14.
SERa1ON IV.-UPON THE   )VEItR;>1ENT OF THIE TONGUE..
If any man among you seem to be ieliiodus, and bridleth not his tongue,
but deceiveth his own heart, this man's religion rs vs t). —Jalm. i. 26.
SER:MONS V. VI.-UPON COMPASSION.64, t
Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep. —
Rom. xii. 15.
SERMON VII —-UPON THE CHARACTER OF BALAAM...              2
Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his. —
Numb. xxiii. 10.
SERMONS VIII. IX.-UPON  RESENTMENT, AND) FOIGIVENESS OF
INJURIES.....                               92, 101
Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and
hate thine enemy: but I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them
that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that
despitefully use you and persecute you.-lMact. v. 43, 44.
SERMION X.-UPON SELF-D)ECEIT..                                   113
And Nathan said to David, Thou art the mlan. —2 Sam. xii 7.
SERMONS XI. XII.-UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGItBOUR.  125, 140
And if there be any other commandment, it is briefly comprehended in
this saying, namely, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.-.
Rom. xiii. 9.
SF.RmIOns XIII. XIV. —UPON PIETY, O1l TIIE LOVE OF GOD       154, 163
Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with ail thy
Saul, and with all thy mnind.-Matt. xxii. 37.




xxiv                        CONTENTI'S.
S:RM1ON XV. —UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN..,   fx
When I applied mine heart to know wisdonl, and to see the business that
is done upon the earth: then I beheld all the work of God, that a man
cannot find out the work that is done under the sun: because though
a man labour to seek it out, yet he shall not find it; yea further,
though a wise man think to know it, yet shall he not be able to find
it. —Eccles. viii. 16, 1 7.
SIX SERMONS
PREACHED UPON PUBLIC OCCASIONS.
SE:RaoN I. —PREACIIED BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR PROPAGATING
THE GOSPEL.                                                    184
And this gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in all the world, for a
witness unto all nations.-latt. xxiv. 14.
SEI.Nox 1I.-PRI'EACIIEI) BEFORE THE LORD IMAYOR, ALDERIMEN,
AND  SHERIFFS, AND) TI-lE (;OVEItNOlS OF THE SEVERAL
11OSPITALS OF TIlE CITY OF LONDON.....   197
The rich and poor meet together: the Lord is the maker of them all. —
Prov. xxii. 2.
SEIR.I10) III.-1PILEACH-IED  BEFORE TIlE I-OUSE OF LORDS, JAN.
J0, I 740}-41............. 211
And not using your liberty for a cloak of maliciousness, but as the servants of God.-I Pet. ii. 16.
SF.R.lox IV.-PI'EACHIED  AT  Tl'E  ANNUAL MEETING OF THE
CIHARITY CEIILDREN AT ClllST CIIURCH....   225
Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will
not depart from it.-Prov. xxii. 6.
SEim.O.x V.-PIREACI-EI) BEFORE T1E HIOUSE OF LORI)S ON TIlE
ANNIVEiiSARY  OF  HIS MAl\JESTY'S ACCIESSSION 1T0 TIE T H IRONE 2 4
i exhort, that, first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, and
giving of thanks, be made for all men; for kings, and for all that are
in authority; that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life, in all godliness and honesty.-I Tim. ii. 1, 2.
ShltaO1N' VI. -PREACHED BEFORE THE GOVERNORS OF'rTIE  ON)0ON INFIRMARYI...0. 
And above all things have fervent charity among yourselves; for charity
shall cover the multitude of sins. —l Pat. iv. 8.
A  CHARGE TO THE CL.EP.GY OF T'le' DI'OCEBSE   OF DURIHAM,
1751.........    36
CORRESPONDENCE BETW'EESN' I)I lL'IIER AND DR CLARKE    m




SERMON I.
UPON HUMAN NATURE.
For as we have many members in one body, and all members eam.not the same office: so we beinq many are one body in Christ, and
every one members one of another.-Rom. xii. 4, 5.
THE Epistles in the New Testament have all of them a
particular reference to the condition and usages of the
Christian world at the time they were written. Therefore as they cannot be thoroughly understood, unless
that condition and those usages are known and attended
to: so further, though they be known, yet if they be discontinued or changTed; exlikrtatlons, precepts, and illustrations of things, which refer to such circumstances
now ceased or altered, cannot at this time be urged in
that manner, and with that force which they were to the
primitive Christians. Thus the text now before us, in
its first intent and design, relates to the decent managenent of those extraordinary gifts which were then in
the church,* but which are now totally ceased. And
even as to the allusion that we are one body in Christ;
though what the Apostle here intends is equally true of
Christians in all circumstances; and the consideration of
it is plainly still an additional motive, over and above
moral considerations, to the discharge of the several
duties and offices of a Christian: yet it is manifest this
allusion must have appeared with much greater force to
those, who, by the many difficulties they went through
for the sake of their religion, were led to keep always in
view the relation they stood in to their Saviour, who had
undergone the same; to those, who, from the idolatries
of all around them, and their ill-treatment, were taught
* 1 Cor. xii.




26             UPON HUMAN NATURE.            [Sma. L
to consider themselves as not of the world in which they
lived, but as a distinct society of themselves; with laws
and ends, and principles of life and action, quite contrary
to those which the world professed themselves at that
time influenced by. Hence the relation of a Christian
was by them considered as nearer than that of affinity
and blood; and they almost literally esteemed themselves
as members one of another.
It cannot indeed possibly be denied, that our being
God's creatures, and virtue being the natural law we are
born under, and the whole constitution of man being
plainly adapted to it, are prior obligations to piety and
virtue, than the consideration that God sent his Son into
the world to save it, and the motives which arise from
the peculiar relation of Christians, as members one of
another under Christ our hLad.  However, though all
this be allowed, as it expressly is by the inspired writers;
yet it is manifest that Christians at the time of the revelation, and immediately after, could not but insist mostly
upon considerations of this latter kind.
These observations show the original particular reference of the text; and the peculiar force with which the
thing intended by the allusion in it, must have been felt
by the primitive Christian world. They likewise afford
a reason for treating it at this time in a more general way.
The relation which the several parts or members of
the natural body have to each other and to the whole
body, is here compared to the relation which each particular person in society has to other particular persons
and to the whole society; and the latter is intended to
be illustrated by the former. And if there be a likeness
between these two relations, the consequence is obvious: that the latter shows us we were intended to do
good to others, as the former shows us that the' several
members of the natural body were intended to be instruments of good to each other and to tbic whole body. [ But
as there is scarce any ground for a comparison between
society and the mere material body, this without the
mind being a dead unactive thing; mnuch less can the
comparison be carried to any length.,And since the
apostle speaks of the several membeirs as having distinct




And.'I.]                UPON HUMAN NATURE.                                 27
offices, which implies the mind; it cannot be thought an
unallowable liberty, instead of the body and its members,
to substitute the whole nature of man, and all the  variety
of internal principles which belong to it. And then the
comparison will be between the nature of marn as respecting self, and tending to private good, his own preservation and happiness; and the nature of man as having respect to society, and tending to promote public
good, the happiness of that society. These ends do indeed perfectly coincide; and to aim at public and private
good are so far from being inconsistent, that they mutually promote each other: yet in the following discourse
they must be considered as entirely distinct; otherwise
the nature of man as tending to one, or as tending to
the other, cannot be compared. There can no comparison be made, without considering the things compared as distinct and different.
From this review and comparison of the nature ot
man as respecting self, and as respecting society, it will
plainly appear, that there are as real and the same. kind
of indications in human nature, that we were made for society and to do good to our fellow creatures; as that we
were intended to take care of our own life and health and
private good: and that the same'objections lie against one
of these assertions, as against the other. For,
First, There is a natural principle of benevolence* in
* Suppose a man of learning to be wriilng a grave book upon human nature, and
to show in several parts of it that he had aln insight into the subject he was consider.
ing; amongst other things, the following one would require to be accounted for; the
al)l)earance of benevolence or good-will ill men towards each other in the instances
of natural relation, and in others.*  Cautious of being deceived with outward show,
Lhe retires within himself to see exactly, whlat that is in the mind of man from whence
this appearance proceeds; and, upon deep reflection, asserts the principle in the
mind to be only the love of power, and delight in the exercise of it.  Would not
every body think here was a mistake of onle vorl for another? that the philosopher
was cointei....ting and accounting for sotle odlthir humanz actions, some other behaviour of..:;o. man?  And could ally olut he. tlo-'outghly satisfied, that what is commonly ca..dxl benevolence or good will w.lu r;lly tu; affection meant, but only by
being made to understand that this learne(ld ]personl lad a general hypothesis, to which
the appearance of good-will could no otherwie lbe recoclliled?  That what has this
appearance is often nothing but ambition; that delgglit. in superiority oftenl (suppose
always) mixes itself with benevolence, only makes it more specious to call it ambition than hunger, of the two: but in reality that passion does no more account for
the whole. appearances of good-will than this appetite does  Is there not often the
gppearance of one man's vishing that good to another, which he knows himself un.
able to'procure him; and rejoicing in it, though betstowed by a third person?  And
sam love of power any way possibly come in to account for this desire or deligftl
* Hobbes of Human Nature, c. ix. Si 7




28                     UPON HUMAN NATURE.                             [Sns. L
nan; which  is  in some degree to society, what self-love
is to the individual. And if there be in mankind any
disposition to friendship; if there be any such  thing  as
compassion, for compassion is momentary love; if there
be any such thing as the paternal or filial affections; if
there be any affection in human nature, the object and
end of which is the good of another; this is itself benevolence, or the love of another. Be it ever so short, be
it in ever so low a degree, or ever so unhappily confined; it proves the assertion, and points out what we
were designed for, as really as though it were in a higher
degree and more extensive.  I must however remind
you that though benevolence and self-love are different;
though the former tends most directly to public good,
and the latter to private: yet they are so perfectly coinIs there not often the appearance of men's distinguishing between two or more persons, preferring one before another, to (ldo good to, in cases where love of power canlnot in the least account for the distinction anid preference?  For thtis principle can
no otherwise distinguish between objects, than as it is a greater instance and exertion
of power to do good to one rather than to another.  Again, suppose good-will in the
mnil.d of man to be nothing but delight in the exercise of power: men might indeed
be restrained by distant and accidental consideration; but these restraints being reonoved, they would have a disposition to, and delight in mischief as an exercise arnd
proof of power: and this disposition and deliglt would arise firom, or be the same
pric;liple in the mind, as a disposition to, and delight in charity.  Thus cruelty, as
distinct from envy and resentment, would be exactly the samle in the mind of man as
gtd(t-will: that one tends to the happiness, the other to the misery of our fellow
renatures, is, it seems, merely an accidental circumstance, which the mind has not
tile least regard to. These are tile absurdities which even men of capacity run into,
When tlhey have occasion to belie their nature, and will perversely disclaim that
iniage of God which was originally stamped upon it, the traces of which, however
tlrilit, are plainly discernible upon the mind of man.
If ally person can in earnest doubt, whether there be such a thing as good-will in
Ont, mlan towards another; (for the question is not concerning either the degree or
extensiveness of it, but concerning the affection itself:) let it be observed, that
whether man be thus, or otherwise constituted, what is the inward flame in this particular, is a mere question of tact or natural history, not proveable immediately by
reason.  It is therefore to be judged of and determined in the same way other facts
or matters of natural history are: Iy appealing to the external senses, or inward percepLions, respectively, as the matter under consideration is cognizable by one or the
other: by arguing from acknowledged facts and actions; for a great number of actions in the same kind, in different circumstances, and respecting different objects
will prove to a certainty, what principles they do not, and, to the greatest probability,
what principles they do proceed from: a.nd lastly, by the testimony of mankind.
Now that there is some degree of benevolence amongst men, may be as strongly and
plainly proved in all these ways, as it could possibly he proved, supposing there was
thllis affection in our nature. And should any one think fit to assert, that resentment
in the mind of man was absolutely nothing but reasonable concern for our own safety,
the falsity of this, and what is the real nature of that passion, could be shown in no
other way than those in which it may be shown, that there is such a thing in sm
degree as real good-will in man towards man. It is sufficient that the seeds of it be
implanted in our nature by God. There is, it is owned, much left for us to do upon
our own heart and temper; to cultivate, to improve, to call it forth, to exercise it in
a steady, uniform manner. This is our work; this as virtue and reiigion.




SER. 1.]               UPON HUMAN NATURE.                                 29
cident, that the greatest satisfactions to ourselves depend
upon our having benevolence in a due degree; and that
self-love is one chief security of our right behaviour
towards society. It may be added, that their mutual
coinciding, so that we can scarce promote one without
the other, is equally a proof that we were made for both.
Secondly, This will further appear, froin observing
that the  several passions  and  affections, which  are  distinct *   both   from   benevolence   and   self-love,  do   in
general contribute and lead us to public good as really as
to private. It might be thought too minute and particular, and would carry us too great a length, to distingullish between and compare together the several passions
or appetites distinct from benevolence, whose primary
tise and intention is the security and good of society;
and the  passions distinct from   self-love, whose primary
intention and design is the security and good of the individual.t   It is  enough  to  the  present argument, that
Fvery body makes a distinction between self-love, and the several particular
p issions, appetites, and affections; and yet they are often confounded again. Thlat
viliy arte totally different, will be seen by any one who will distinguish between the
lso;(l)ls alid appetites themselves, and endeavouring after the means of their gratifi-,
c:t:tioI. Consider the appetite of hunger, and the desire of esteem: these beiing the:gcasiol both of pleasure and pain, the coollest self-love, as well as the appetites and
pas:sions themselves, may put us upon making use of the proper methods of obtaining
tlhlt pleasure, and avoiding that paino; but tllefeelings themselves, the pain of llunger;II shame, and the delight from esteem, are no more self-love than they are aliy
mlmiil- ill the world. Though a man hated himself, he would as much feel the pain
()t lulgll'er as he would that of the gout: and it is plainly supposable there may he'rI. tllii't's with self-love in them to the highest degree, who may be quite insensible
t:::!l ildifftlerent (as men in some cases are) to the contempt and esteem of those,
p,.ll whom their happiness does not in some fiurther respects depend.  And as shelfhlve and the several particular passions and appetites are in themselves totally diffi-.rntl; so, that some actions proceed from one, and some from the other, will be
lwalitfest to any who will observe the two f)llowing very supposable cases. One nlan
rtilmets upon certain ruin for the gratification of a present desire: nobody will call the
principle of this action self-love. Suppose another man to go through some laborio(isu work upon promise of a great rewald, without any distinct knowledge what the
re-ward will be: this course of action cannot be ascribed to any particular passion.
Thir former of these actions is plainly to be imputed to some particular passion or:tfection, the latter as plainly to the general affection or principle of self love.
l'tlat there are some particular pursuits or actions concerning which we cannot det-lrn-ine how far they are owing to one, and how far to the other, proceeds from this
that the two principles are frequently mixed together, and run up into each other.
This distinction is further explained in the eleventh sermon.
t If any desire to see this distinction and compiarison made in a particular instance,
the appetite and passion now mentioned may serve for one. Hunger is to be considered as a private appetite; because thelt end for which it was given us is the
preservation of the individuzl.  Desire of esteem is a public passion; bemause the
end for which it was given us is to regulate our behaviour towards society. The
respect which this has to private good is as remote as the respect that has to public
ood: and the appetite is no more self-love, than the passion is benevolence.  The
oJect and end of the former is merely food; the object and end of the latter ix




80              UPON HUMAN NATURE.                 [S8. L
desire of esteem from others, contempt and esteem of
them, love of society as distinct from  affection to the
good of it, indignation against successful vice, that these
are public affections or passions; have an immediate rs -
spect to others, naturally lead us to regulate our behaviour in such a manner as will be of service to our
fellow creatures. If any or all of these may be considered likewise as private affections, as tending to private
good; this does not hinder them from being public affections too, or destroy the good influence of them upon
society, and their tendency to public good. It may be
added, that as persons without any conviction from reason
of the desirableness of life, would yet of course preserve
it merely from the appetite of hunger; so by acting
merely from regard (suppose) to reputation, without
any consideration of the good of others, men often contribute to public good.  In both these instances they are
plainly instruments in the hands of another, in the hands
of Providence, to carry on ends, the preservation of the
individual and good of society, which they themselves
have not in their view or intention. /The sum is, men
have various appetites, passions, and particular affections, quite distinct both from  self-love and from benevolence: all of these have a tendency to promote both
public and private good, and may be considered as
respecting others and ourselves equally and in common:
but some of them  seem  most immediately to respect
others, or tend to public good; others of them most immediately to respect self, or tend to private good: as the
former are not benevolence, so the latter are not selflove: neither sort are instances of our love either to ourselves or others; but only ilisti.-tces of our Maker's care
and love both of the individual and the species, and
proofs that he intended we should be instruments of
good to each other, as well as that we should be so to
ourselves_,
Thirdly, There is a principle of reflection in men, by
which they distinguish between, approve and disapprove
merely esteem: but the latter can no more be gratided, without contributlg to the
good of society; than the former can be gratified, without contributing to the premer
nta of the individual.




u.. I.]         UPON HUMAN NATURE.                  31
their own actions.  We are plainly constituted such sort
of creatures as to i eflect upon our own nature.  The
mind can take a view of what passes within itself, its
propensions, aversions, passions, affections, as respecting
such objects, and in such degrees; and of the several actions consequent thereupon.  In this survey it approves
of one, disapproves of another, and towards a third is af.
fected in neither of these ways, but is quite indifferent.
This principle in man, by which he approves or disapproves his heart, temper, and actions, is conscience; for
this is the strict sense of the word, though sometimes it
is used so as to take in more.  And that this faculty
tends to restrain men from doing mischief to each other,
and leads them  to do good, is too manifest to need
being insisted upon.  Thus a parent has the affection of
love to his children: this leads him  to take care of, to
(ducate, to make due provision for them; the natural affection leads to this:. but the reflection that it is his
proper business, what belongs to him, that it is right and
commendable so to do; this added to the affection Lbecomes a much more settled principle, and carries him on
through more labour and difficulties for the sake of his
children, than he would undergo from  that affection
alone, if he thought it, and the course of action it led to,
either indifferent or criminal. This indeed is impossible, to do that which is good and not to approve of it;
for which reason they are frequently not considered (:s
distinct, though they really are: for men often appro ve
of the actions of others, which they will not imitate, and
likewise do that which they approve not.  It canrot
possibly be denied, that there is this principle of reflection or conscience in human nature. Suppose a man t!,
relieve an innocent person in great distress; suppose tl e
same man afterwards, in the fury of anger, to do tl~e
greatest mischief to a person who had given no just cause
of offence; to aggravate the injury, add the circumstances
of former friendship, and obligation from the injured
person; let the man who is supposed to have done these
two different actions, coolly reflect upon them afterwards,
without regard to their consequences to himself: to assert that any common man would be affected in the




32            UPON HUMAN NATURE.             iSm. L
same way to wards these different actions, that he would
make no distinction between them, but approve or disapprove them equally, is too glaring a falsity to need
being confuted. There is therefore this principle of reflection or conscience in mankind. It is needless to
compare the respect it has to private good, with the respect it has to public; since it plainly tends as much to
the latter as to the former, and is commonly thought to
tend chiefly to the latter. This faculty is now mentioned
merely as another part in the inward frame of man,
pointing out to us in some degree what we are intended
for, and as what will naturally and or course have some
influence. 7iThe particular place assigned to it by nature,
what authority it has, and how great influence it ought
have, shall be hereafter considered.From this comparison of benevolence and self-love,
of our public and private affections, of the courses of life
they lead to. and of the principle of reflection or conscience as respecting each of them, it is as manif( st, that
we were made for society, and to promote t/he happiness cf
it; as that we were intended to take care of' our own Ije,
and health, and private good.
And from this whole review must be given a different
draught of human nature from what we are often presented with.  Mankind are by nature so closely united,
there is such a correspondence between the inward sensations of one man and those of another, that disgrace is
as much avoided as bodily pain, and to be the object of
esteem and love as much desired as any external goods:
and in many particular cases, persons are carried on to
do good to others, as the end their affection tends to anti
rests in; and manifest that they find real satisfaction anti
enjoyment in this course of behaviour., There is such a
natural principle of attraction in man towards man, that
having trod the same tract of land, having breathed in
the same climate, barely having been in the same artificial district or division, becomes the occasion of contracting acquaintances and familiarities many years after:
for any thing may serve the purpose. Thus relations
merely nominal are sought and invented, not by governors, but by the lowest of the people; which are found




g,.itl lUPON HUMAN NATURE.                       33
sufficient to hold mankind together in little fraternities
and copartnerships: weak ties indeed, and what may
afford fund enough for ridicule, if they are absurdly considered as the real principles of that union: but they are
in truth merely the occasions, as any thing may be of
any thing, upon which our nature carries us on according to its own previous bent and bias; which occasions
therefore would be nothing at all, were there not this
prior disposition and bias of nature. Men are so much
one body, that in a peculiar manner they feel for each
other, shame, sudden danger, resentment, honour, prosperity, distress; one or another, or all of these, from the
social nature in general, from benevolence, upon the
occasion of natural relation, acquaintance, protection,
dependence; each of these being distinct cements of
society.  And therefore to have no restraint from, no
regard to others in our behaviour, is the speculative
absurdity of considering ourselves as single and independent, as having  nothing in our nature which has respect to our fellow creatures, reduced to action and
practice. And this is the same absurdity, as to suppose
a hand, or any part, to have no natural respect to any
other, or to the whole body.
But allowing all this, it may be asked, "Has not man
dispositions and principles within, which lead him to do
evil to others, as well as to do good? Whence come
the many miseries else, which men are the authors and
instruments of to each other?"  These questions, so far
as they relate to the foregoing discourse, may be answered by asking, Has not man also dispositions and principles within, which lead him to do evil to himself as well
as good?  Whence come the many miseries else, sickness, pain, and death, which men are instruments and
authors of to themselves 
It may be thought more easy to answer one of these.
questions than the other, but the answer to both is really
the same; that mankind have ungoverned passions which
they will gratify at any rate, as well to the injury of
others, as in contradiction to known private interest: but
that as there is no such thing as self-hatred, so neither
is there any such thing as ill-will in one man towards
C




84                 UPON HUMAN NATURE.                      [SEE. I
another, emulation and resentment being away; whereas
there is plainly benevolence or good-will: there is no
such thing as love of injustice, oppression, treachery, in.
gratitude; but only eager desires after such and such
external goods; which, according to a very ancient observation, the most abandoned would choose to obtain by
innocent means, if they were as easy, and as effectual to
their end: that even emulation and resentment, by any one
who will consider what these passions really are in nature,' will be found nothing to the purpose of this objection: and that the principles and passions in the mind of
man, which are distinct both from self-love and benevolence, primarily and most directly lead to right behaviour
with regard to others as well as himself, and only secondarily and accidentally to what is evil. Thus, though men,
to avoid the shame of one villany, are sometimes guilty of
a greater, yet it is easy to see, that the original tendency
of-shame is to prevent the doing of shameful actions;
and its leading men to conceal such actions when done,
is only in consequence of their being done; i. e. of the
passion's not having answered its first end.
If it be said, that there are persons in the world, who,are in great measure without the natural affections towards their fellow creatures: there are likewise instances.of persons without the common natural affections to
themselves: but the nature of man is not to be judged
of by either of these, but by what appears in the common
world, in the bulk of mankind.
I am afraid it would be thought very strange, if to confirm the truth of this account of human nature, and make
out the justness of the foregoing comparison, it should
be added, that, from  what appears, men in fact as much
and as often contradict that part of their nature which
respects se/y; and which leads them to their own private
* Emulation is merely the desire and hope of equality with, or superiority over
others, with whom we compare ourselves. There does not appear to be any other
gnief in the natural passion, but only that want which is implied in desire. However
this may be so strong as to be the occasion of great grief. To desire the attainment
of this equality or superiority by the particular means of others being brought down
to our own level, or below it, is, I think, the distinct notion of envy. From whence
it is easy to see, that the real end, which the natural passion emulation, and which
the unlawful one envy aims at, is exactly tile same; namely, that equality or superiority: and consequently, that to do) mischief is niot the end of envy, but merely the
meams it makes use of-to attain its end. As to resentment, see the eighth sermon.




Iz.. 1.j       UPON HUMAN NATURE.               35
good and happiness; as they contradict that part of it
which respects society, and tends to public good: that
there are as few persons, who attain the greatest satisfaction and enjoyment which they might attain in the
present world; as who do the greatest good to others
which they might do; nay, that there are as few who
can be said really an.d in earnest to aim at one, as at the
other. Take a survey of mankind: the world in general,
the good and bad, almost without exception, equally are
agreed, that were religion out of the case, the happiness
of the present life would consist in a manner wholly in
riches, honours, sensual gratifications; insomuch that one
scarce hears a reflection made upon prudence, life, con.duct, but upon this supposition. Yet on the contrary,
that persons in the greatest affluence of fortune are no
happier than such as have only a competency; that the
cares and disappointments of ambition for the most part
far exceed the satisfactions of it; as also the miserable
intervals of intemperance and excess, and the many untimely deaths occasioned by a dissolute course of life 
these things are all seen, acknowledged, by every one acknowledged; but are thought no objections against, though
they expressly contradict, this universal principle, that the
happiness of the present life consists in one or other of
them. Whence is all this absurdity and contradiction? Is
not the middle way obvious? Can any thing be more
manifest, than that the happiness of life consists in these
possessed and enjoyed only to a certain degree; that to
pursue them  bevond this degree, is always attended
with more inconvenience than advantage to a man's
self, and often with extreme misery and unhappiness.'Whence then, I say, is all this absurdity and contradiction?  Is it really the result of consideration in mankind, how they may become most easy to themselves,
most free fr'om care, and enjoy the chief happiness
attainable in this world? Or is it not manifestly owing
either to this, that they have not cool and reasonable
concern enough for themselves to consider wherein their
chief happiness in the present life consists; or else, if
they do consider it, that they will not act conformably
to what is the result of that consideration: i. e. reasonaC 2




88             UPON HUMAN NATURE.               f., t
ble concern for themselves, or cool self-love is prevailed;over by passion and appetite.  So that from  what
appears, there is no ground to assert that those princi-'pies in the nature of man, which most directly lead to
promote the good of our fellow creatures, are more
generally or in a greater degree violated, than those,
which most directly lead us to promote our own private
good and happiness.
The sum of the whole is plainly this. iThe nature of
man, considered in his single capacity, and with respect
only to the present world, is adapted and leads him to
attain the greatest happiness he can for himself in the
present world. The nature of man, considered in his
public or social capacity, leads him to a right behaviour
in society to that course of life which we call virtue.
Men follow or bbey their nature in both these capacities
and respects to a -ertain degree, but not entirely: their
actions do not colne up to the whole of what their
nature leads them to in either of these capacities or
respects: and they often violate their nature in both,
i. e. as they neglect the duties they owe to their fellow
creatures, to which their nature leads them; and are
injurious, to which their nature is abhorrent; so there
is a manifest negligence in men of their real happiness
or interest in the present world, when that interest is
inconsistent with a present gratification; for the sake of
which they negligently, nay, even knowingly, are the
authors and instruments of their own misery and ruin.
Thus they are as often unjust to themselves as to others,
and for the most part are equally so to both by the
same actions.




a1.L]          UPON HUMAN NATURE.                SI
SERMON II. III.
UPON HUMAN NATURE.
For when the Gentiles, which have not the law, do by nature the
things contained in the law, these, having not the law, are a law
unto themselves.-Rorn. ii. 14.
As speculative truth admits of different kinds of proof,
so likewise moral obligations may be shown by different
methods. If the real nature of any creature leads him
and is adapted to such and such purposes only, or more
than to any other; this is a reason to believe the author
of that nature intended it for those purposes. Thus
there is no doubt the eye was intended for us to see
with. And the more complex any constitution is, and
the greater variety of parts there are which thus tend to
some one end, the stronger is the proof that such end
was designed. However, when the inward frame of man
is considered as any guide in morals, the utmost caution
must be used that none make peculiarities in their own
temper, or any thing which is the effect of particular
customs, though observable in several, the standard of
what is common to the species; and above all, that the
highest principle bp-not forgot or excluded, that to which
belongs the adjustment and correction of all other inward
movements and affections: which principle will of course
have some influence, but which being in nature supreme,
as shall now be shown, ought to preside over and govern
all the rest. The difficulty of rightly observing the two
former cautions; the appearance there is of some small
diversity amongst mankind with respect to this faculty,
with respect to their natural sense of moral good and
evil; and the attention necessary to survey with any
exactness what passes within, have occasioned that it is
not so much agreed what is the standard of the internal
nature of man, as of his external form. Neither is this
last exactly settled. Yet we understand one another
when we speak of the shape of a human body: so likewise we do when we speak of the heart and inward




38              UPON HUMAN NATURE.             [Sa. IL
principles, how far soever the standard is from being
exact or precisely fixed. There is therefore ground for
an attempt of showing men to themselves, of showing
them what course of life and behaviour their real nature
points out and would lead them to. Now obligations of
virtue shown, and motives to the practice of it enforced,
from a review of the nature of man, are to be considered
as an appeal to each particular person's heart and natural
conscience: as the external senses are appealed to for
the proof of things cognizable by them. - Since then our
inward feelings, and the perceptions we receive from our
external senses, are equally real; to argue from the former to life and conduct is as little liable to exception, as
to argue from the latter to absolute speculative truth.
A man can as little doubt whether lhi_ ey-E.r -,ere given
him to setJ with, as h:t can doubt of the truth of the
science of optics, deduced from  ocular experiments.
And allowing the inward feeling, shame; a man can as
little doubt whether it was given him to prevent his
doing shameful actions, as he can doubt whether his e es
were given him to guide his steps.  And as to these inward feelings themselves; that they are real, that man
has in his nature passions and affections, can no more be
questioned, than that he has external senses.  Neither
can the former be wholly mistaken; though to a certain
degree liable to greater mistakes than the latter.
There can be no doubt but that several propensions
or instincts, several principles in the heart of man, carry
him to society, and to contribute to the happiness of it,
in a sense and a manner in which no inward principle
1 ~ads him to evil.  These principles, propensions, or instincts which lead him to do good, are approved of by a
certain faculty within, quite distinct from these propensions themselves. All this hath been fully made out in
tile foregoing discourse.
But it may be said, " WVhat is all thiis, though true, to
the purpose of virtue and religion? these require, not
only that we do good to others when we are led this
way, by benevolence or reflection, happening to be
stronger than other principles, passions, or appetites;
but ilkewise that the wOhole character be frrmed upon




s. n.l          UPON HUMAN NATURE.                39
thought and reflection; that every action be directed by
some determinate rule, some other rule than the strength
and prevalency of any principle or passion. What sign
is there in our nature (for the inquiry is only about what
is to be collected from thence) that this was intended by
its Author? Or how does so various and fickle a temper
as that of man appear adapted thereto? It rmay indeed
he absurd and unnatural for men to act without any reflection; nay, without regard to that particular kind of
reflection which you call conscience; because this does
belong to our nature.  For as there never was a man
but who approved one place, prospect, building, before
another: so it does not appear that there ever was a mar,
who would not have approved an action of humanity
rather than of cruelty; interest and passion being quite
out of t0'''e.' 3ut interest and passion do come in,
and are often too strong for and prevail over reflection
and conscience.  Novw as brutes have various instincts,
by which they are carried on to the end the Author of
their nature intended them  for: is not man in the same
condition; with thlis difference only, that to his instincts
(i. e. appetites and passions) is added the principle ol
reflection or conscience?  And as brutes act agreeably
to their nature, in -;.iiowing that principle or particular
instinct which for the present is strongest in them: does
not mnan likewise act agl'eeably to his nature, or obey the
law of his creation, by following that principle, be it passion or conscience, which for the present happens to be
strongest in him? Thus different men are by their particular nature hlrried on to pursue honour, or riches, or
pleasure: there are also persons whose temper leads
them in an uncommon degree to kindness, compassion,
doing good to their fillow creatures: as there are others
who are given to suspend their judgment, to weigh and
consider things, and to act upon thought and reflection.
Let every one then quietly follow his nature; as passion,
reflection, appetite, the several parts of it, happen to be
sfrongest: but let not the man of virtue take upon him
to blame the ambitious, the covetous, the dissolute; since
these equally with him obey and follow their nature.
Thus, as in some cases we follow our nature in doing




40             UPON HUMAN NATURE.            [SAL It
the works conitained in the law, so in other cases we follow nature in doing contrary."
Now all this licentious talk entirely goes- upon a supposition, that men follow their nature tn the same sense,
in violating the known rules of justice and honesty for
the sake of a present gratification, as they do in following
those rules when they have no temptation to the contrary.
And if this were true, that could not be so which St Paul
asserts, that men are by nature a law to themselves.  If
by following nature were meant only acting as we please,
it would indeed be ridiculous to speak of nature as any
guide in morals: nay the very mention of deviating from
nature would be absurd; and the mention of following
it, when spoken by way of distinction, would absolutely
have no meaning. For did ever any one act otherwise
than as he pleased? And yet the ancients speak of
deviating from nature as vice; and of following nature
so much as a distinction, that according to them the perfection of virtue consists therein. So that language itself
should teach people another sense to the words following
nature, than barely acting as we please.  Let it however
be observed, that though the words human nature are to
be explained, yet the real question of this discourse is
not concerning the meaning of words, any other than as
the explanation of them may be needful to make out and
explain the assertion, that every man is naturally a law
to himself, that every one may find within himself the'rule
of right, and obligations to follow it. This St Paul affirms
in the words of the text, and this the foregoing objection
really denies by seeming to allow it. And the objection
will be fully answered, and the text before us explained,
-jy observing that nature is considered in different views,
and the word used in different senses; and by showing
in what view it is considered, and in what sense the
word is used, when intended to express and signify that
which is the guide of life, that by which men are a law
to themselves.  I say, the explanation of the term will
be sufficient, because from thence it will appear, that in
some senses of the word nature cannot be, but that in
another sense it manifestly is, a law to us.
I. By nature is often meant no more than some prin




sIn. n.L        UPON HUMAN NATURB.               41
ciple in man, without regard either to the kind or degree
of it. Thus the passion of anger, and the affection of
parents to their children, would be called equally natural.
And as the same person hath often contrary principles,
which at the same time draw contrary ways, he may by
the same action both follow and contradict his nature in
this sense of the word; he may follow one passion and
contradict another.
II. Nature is frequently spoken of as consisting in
those passions which are strongest, and most influence
the actions; which being vicious ones, mankind is in
this sense naturally vicious, or vicious by nature. Thus
St Paul says of the Gentiles, who were dead in trespasses
and sins, and walked according to the spirit of disobedience,
that they were by nature the children of wrath.'  They
could be no otherwise children of wrath by nature, than
thev were vicious by nature.'Here then are two different senses of the word nature,
in neither of which men can at all be said to be a law to
themselves. They are' mentioned only to be excluded;
to prevent their being confounded, as the latter is'in the
objection, with another sense of it, which is now to be
inquired after and explained.
III. The apostle asserts, that the Gentiles do by nature the thinys contained' in the law.  Nature is indeed
here put by way of distinction from revelation, but yet it
is not a mere negative.  He intends to express more
than that by which they did not, that by which they did
the works of the law; namely, by nature. It is plain
the meaning of the word is not the same in this passage
as in the former, where it is spoken' of as evil; for in
this latter it is spoken of as good; as that by which they
acted, or might have acted virtuously, What that is in
man by which he is naturally a law to himself; is explained in the following words: Which shew the work oj
the law written in their hearts, their consciences also bearing witness, and their thoughts the mean while accusing or
else excusing one another.  If there be a distinction to be
made between the works written in their hearts, and the
witmess of conscience; by the former must be meant the
* Ephes. ii. 3.




42              UPON HUMA:N; _;,\:'-T;':      [S.R. II
natural disposition to kindness and cornpassion, to do
what is of good report, to which this apostle often refers:
that part of the nature of man, treated of in the foregomg
discourse, which with very little reflection and of course
leads him to society, and by means of which he naturally
acts a just and good part in it, unless other passions or
interests lead him astray. Yet since other passions, and
regards to private interest, which lead us (though indirectly, yet they lead us) astray, are themselves in a
degree equally natural, and often most prevalent; and
since we have no method of seeing the particular degrees in which one or the other is placed in us by
nature; it is plain the former, considered merely as
natural, good and right as they are, can no more be a
law to us than the latter.,But there is a superior principle of reflection or conscience in every man, which
distinguishes between the internal principles of his heart,
as well as his external actions: which passes judgment
upon himself and them; pronounces determinately some
actions to be in themselves just, right, good; others to
be in themselves evil, wrong, unjust: which, without
being consulted, without being advised with, magisterially exerts itself, and approves or condemns him  the
doer of them accordingly: and which, if not forcibly
stopped, naturally and always of course goes on to anticipate a higher and more effectual sentence, which shall
hereafter second and affirm its own. But this part of
the office of conscience is beyond my present design
explicitly to consider. it is by this faculty, natural to
man, that he is a moral agent, that he is a law to himselfi;._but this faculty, I say, not to be considered merely
as a principle in his heart, which is to have some influence as well as others;. but considered as a faculty in
kind and in nature supreme over all others, and which
bears its own authority of being so.
This prerogative, this natural supremacy, of the faculty
which surveys, approves or disapproves the several affece
tions of our mind and actions of our lives, being that by
which men are a law to themselves, their conformity or
disobedience to which law of our nature renders their
actions, in the highest and most proper sense. natural or




SI. ILo]       UPON HEMAN NATURE.                   43
unnatural; it is fit it be further explained to you: and I
hope it will be so, if you will attend to the following
reflections.
Man may act according to that principle or inclination which for the present happens to be strongest, and
yet act in a way disproportionate to, and violate his real
proper nature. Suppose a brute creature by any bait to
be allured into a snare, by which he is destroyed. He
plainly followed the bent of his nature, leading him to
gratify his appetite: there is an entire correspondence
between his whole nature and such an action: such
action therefore is natural. But suppose a man, foreseeing the same danger of certain ruin, should rush into
it for the sake of a present gratification; he in this instance would follow his strongest desire, as did the brute
creature: but there would be as manifest a disproportion,
between the nature of a man and such an action, as
between the meanest work of art and the skill of the
greatest master in that art: which disproportion arises,
not from considering the action singly in itself, or in its
consequences; but from comparison of it with the nature
of the agent.  And since such an action is utterly disproportionate to the nature of man, it is in the strictest
and most proper sense unnatural; this word expressing
that disproportion. Therefore instead of the words disproportionate to his nature, the word unnatural may now
be put; this being more familiar to us: but let it be
observed, that it stands for the same thing precisely.
Now what is it which renders such a rash action
unnaturalP  Is it that he went against the principle of
reasonable and cool self-love, considered merely as a
part of his nature P No: for if he had acted the contrary way, he would equally have gone against a princi.
ple, or part of his nature, namely, passion or appetite.
But to deny a present appetite, from foresight that the
gratification of it would end in immediate ruin or extreme
misery, is by no means an unnatural action; whereas to
contradict or go against cool self-love for the sake of
such gratification, is so in the instance before us.  Such
an action then being unnatural; and its being so not
arising from a man'rs going against a principle or desire




44              UPON HUMAN NATURE.             LSact1
barely, nor in going against that principle or desire which
happens for the present to be strongest; it necessarily
follows, that there must be some other difference or
distinction to be made between these two principles,
passion and cool self-love, than what I have yet taken
notice of. And this difference, not being a difference in
strength or degree, I call a difference in nature and in
kind. And since, in the instance still before us, if passion prevails over self-love, the consequent action is
unnatural; but if self-love prevails over passion, the ac-.
tion is natural: it is manifest that self-love is in human
nature a superior principle to passion.' This may be
contradicted without violating that nature; but the former cannot. So that, if we will act conformably to the
economy of man's nature, reasonable self-love must
govern. Thus, without particular consideration of conscience, we may have a clear conception of the superior
nature of one inward principle to another; and see that
there really is this natural superiority, quite distinct from
degrees of strength and prevalency.
Let us now take a view of the nature of man, as consisting partly of various appetites, passions, affections,
and partly of the principle of reflection or conscience;
leaving quite out all consideration of the different degrees
of strength, in which either of them prevail, and it will
further appear that there is this natural superiority of
one inward principle to another, and that it is even part
of the idea of reflection or conscience.
Passion or appetite implies a direct simple tendency
towards such and such objects, without distinction of the
means by which they are to be obtained. Consequently
it will often happen there will be a desire of particular
objects, in cases where they cannot be obtained without
manifest injury to others. Reflection or conscience comes.
in, and disapproves the pursuit of them in these circumstances; but the desire remains. Which is to be obeyed,
appetite or reflection? Cannot this question be answered,
from the economy and constitution of human nature merely, without saying which is strongest? Or need this at all
come into consideration? Would not the question be
intelligibly and fully answered by saying, that the prin.




8a. 11.]        UPON HUMAN NATURE,               45
ciple of reflection or conscience being compared with
the various appetites, passions, and affections in men,
the former is manifestly superior and chief, without legard to strength?  And how  often soever the latter
happens to prevail, it is mere usurpation: the former remains in nature and in kind its superior; and every
instance of such prevalence of the latter is an instance
of breaking in upon and violation of the constitution of
man.
All this is no more than the distinction, which every
body is acquainted with, between mere power and authority: only instead of being intended to express the dif.
ference between what is possible, and what is lawful in
civil government; here it has been shown applicable to
the several principles in the mind of man. Thus that
principle, by which we survey, and either approve or
disapprove our own heart, temper, and actions, is not
only to be considered as what is in its turn to have some
influence; which may be said of every passion, of the
lowest appetites: but likewise as being superior; as from
its very nature manifestly claiming superiority over all
others; insomuch that you cannot form a notion of this
faculty, conscience, without taking in judgment, direction, superintendency. This is a constituent part of the
idea, that is, of the faculty itself: and, to preside and govern, from the very cconomv and constitution of man,
belongs to it.  Had it strength, as it had right: had it
power, as it had manifest authority, it would absolutely
govern the world.
This gives us a further view of the nature of man;
shows us what course of life we were made for: not onlv
that our real nature leads us. to be influenced in some
degree by reflection and conscience; but likewise in what
degree we are to be influenced by it, if we will fall in with,
and act agreeably to the constitution of our nature: that
this faculty was plac ed within to be our proper governor;
to direct and regulate all under principles, passions, and
motives of action.  This is its right. and office: thus
sacred is its authority. And how often soever men
violate and rebelliously refuse to submit to it, for sup.
posed interest which they cannot otherwise obtain. or




4a}            UPON HUMAN NATURE.            [Sa. II.
for the sake of passion which they cannot otherwise
gratify; this makes no alteration as to the natural right
and office of conscience.
Let us now turn this whole matter another way, and
suppose there was no such thing at all as this natural
supremacy of conscience; that there was no distinction
to be made between one inward principle and another,
but only that of strength; and see what would be the
consequence.
Consider then what is the latitude and compass of the
actions of man with regard to himself, his fellow creatures, and the Supreme Being? What are their bounds,
besides that of our natural powerP  With respect to the
two first, they are plainly no other than these: no man
seeks misery as such for himself; and no one unprovoked.
does mischief to another for its own sake.  For in every
degree within these bounds, mankind knowingly from
passion or wantonness bring ruin and misery upon themselves and others.  Aid impiety and profaneness, I
mean, what every one would call so who believes the
being of God, have absolutely no bounds at all.  Mlen
blaspheme the Author of nature, formally and in words
renounce their allegiance to their Creator.  Put an instance then with respect to any one of these three.'rhough we should suppose profane swearing, and in
general that kind of impiety now mentioned, to mean
nothing, yet it implies wanton disregard and irreverence
towards an infinite Being, our Creator; and is this as
suitable to the nature of man, as reverence and dutiful
submission of heart towards that Almighty BeingP  Or
suppose a man guilty of parricide, with all the circumstances of cruelty which such an action can admit of.
This action is done in consequence of its principle being
for the present strongest: and if there be no difference
between inward principles, but only that of strength; the
strength being given, you have the whole nature of the
man given, so far as it relates to this matter. The action plainly corresponds to the principle, the principle
being in that degree of strength it was: it therefore corresponds to the whole nature of the man. Upon comoaring the action and the whole nature, there arises no




bl, lII.]       UPON HUMAN NATURE.                 47
disproportion, there appears no unsuitableness between
them.  Thus the murder of a father and the nature of
man correspond to each other, as the same nature and
an act of filial duty. If there be no difference between
inward principles, but only that of strength; we can
make no distinction between these two actions, considered as the actions of such a creature; but in our
coolest hours must approve or disapprove them equally:
than which nothing can be reduced to a greater absurdity.
SERMON III.
THE natural supremacy of refiecti.n or conscience being
thus established; we may frown it form a distinct notion
of what is meant by human nature,wht-n virtue is said
to consist in following it, and vice in leviating from it.
As the idea of a civil constitution.mplies in it united
strenlth, various subordinations, under one direction,
that of the supreme authority; the different strength of
each jparticular member of the society not coming into
the idea; whereas, if you leave out the subordination,
the union, and the one direction, you destroy and lose
it: so reason, several appetites, passions, and affections,
prevailing in different degrees of strength, is not that
idea or notion of human nature; but that nature consists
in these several principles considered as having a natulal
respect to each other, in the several passions beinr,'
naturally subordinate to the one superior principle of
reflection or conscience.  Every bias, instinct, propension within, is a natural part of our nature, but not thel
whole: add to these the superior faculty, whose office it
is to adjust, manage, and preside over them, and take
in this its natural superiority, and you':omplete the idea
of human nature. i And as in civil government the constitution is broken in upon, and violated by power and
strength prevailing over authority; so the constitution
of man is broken in upon and violated by the lower
faculties or principles within prevailing over that which
is in its nature supreme over them all.V  Thus, when it is
said by ancient writers, that tortures and death are not




48                      UPON HUMAN NATURE.                              [Sm. I],
so contrary to human nature as injustice; by this to be
sure is not meant, that the aversion to the former in
mankind is less strong and prevalent than their aversion
to the latter: but that the former is only contrary to our
nature considered in a partial view, and which takes in
only the lowest part of it, that which we have in common with the brutes; whereas the latter is contrary to
our nature, considered in a higher sense, as a system
and constitution contrary to the whole economy of man.*
And from all these things put together, nothing can
be more evident, than that, exclusive of revelation, main
cannot be considered as a creature left by his Maker to
act at random, and live at large up to the extent of his
natural power, as passion, humour, wilfulness, happen
to   carry  him;  which  is  thl.  condition  brute  creatures
are in:  but that from   his make, constitution, or nature,
he is. in the strictest and nmost proper sense a law   to  himself:  He hath the rule of right within: what is wanting
is only that he honestly attend to it.
The inquiries which have been made by men of lei* Every mar, in his physical nature is one individlial single agent.  He has like.
wise properties and principles, each of which nmay be considered separately, and
without reoard to tie respects which tlhey have to lach other.  Neither of these, are
the nature we are taking a view of.  But it is tile inward fr;.lne of man considered
as a system or constitution: whose several parts are muited, not by a physical principle of ilidividuation, but by the respects they have to each other; the chief of which
is tile subjection which the appetites, passions, ald particular affections lhave to tihe
one supreme principle of reflection or conscience.  rFie sysytem or constitution is
foin'md by and consists in these respects and this subjection.  Thus the body is a
system or constitution: so is a tree: so is every machine.  Consider all the several
parts of a tree without the natural respects they ha;e to each other, and you have
Jim,,  at all the idea of a tree; but add these respects, and this gives you the idea.'Tlh.e hoIly may be impaired by sickness, a tree may decay, a machine be oumt of order,
and yet tile system and constitution of them not totally dissolved.  There is plainly
somewlhat which answers to all this in the moral constitution of man.  Whoever will
consider his own nature, will see that the several appetites, passions, and particular
affections, have different respects amongst themselves.  They are restraints upon,
and are in a proportion to each other.  This proportion is just and perfect, when all
those unlltr principles are perfectly coincident with conscience, so far as their nature
permits, and in all cases under its absolute and entire direction. The least excess or
defect, th.e least alteratilon of the due tIroportions amongst themselves, or of their
coincidence with con:science, though not proceeding into action, is some degree of
disorder in tire moral constitution.  But perfection, though plainly intelligible and
unsupposaule, was never attained by any mall.  If the higher principle of reflection
maintains its place, and as much as it can corrects that disorder, and hinders it from
breaking out into action, this is all that can be expected fi'om such a creature as man.
And though the appetites and passions lhave not their exact due proportion to each
other; though they often strive foim mastery with judgment or reflection: yet, since
the superiority of this principle to all others is the chief respect which forms the
onstitution, so far as this superiority is maintained. the character, the man, is 3A
woglt,, virtuous.




A_ II.]       UPON HUMAN NATURE.                49
sure after some general rule, the conformity to, or disagreement from which, should denominate our actions
good or evil, are in many respects of great service. Yet
let any plain honest man, before he engages in any
course of action, ask himself, Is this I am going about
right, or is it wrong P Is it good, or is it evil P I do
not in the least dou.at, but that this question would be
answered agreeably to truth and virtue, by almost any
fair man in almost any circumstance. Neither do there
appear any cases which look like exceptions to this;
but those of superstition, and of partiality to ourselves.
Superstition may perhaps be somewhat of an exception: but partiality to ourselves is not; this being itself
dishonesty. For a man to judge that to be the equitable, the moderate, the right part for him to act, which
he would see to Ibe hard, unjust, oppressive in another;
this is plain vice, and can proceed only from great unfairness of mind
But allowing twhat mankind hath the rule of right within
himself, yet it may be asked, "What obligations are we
under to attend to and follow it?" I answer: it has
been proved that man by his nature is a law to himself,
without the particular distinct consideration of the positive sanctions of that law; the rewards and punishments
which we feel, and those which fronm the light of reason
we have ground to believe, are annexed to it. The
question then calrries its own answer along with it.
Your obligation to obey this law, is its being the law of
your nature. That your conscience approves of and
attests to such a course of action, is itself alone an obligation. Conscience does not only offer itself to show
us the way we should walk in, but it likewise carries its
own authority with it, that it is our natural guide; the
guide assigned us by the Author of our nature: it therefore belongs to our condition of being, it is our duty to
walk in that path, and follow this guide, without looking
about to see whether we may not possibly forsake them
with impunity.
However, let us hear what is to be said against obeyinug this law of our nature.  And the sum is no more
than this. "Why1 should we be concerned about any




50             UPON HUMAN NATURE.           [SEa. IIL
thing out of and beyond ourselves P If we do find within ourselves regards to others, and restraints of we know
not how many different kinds; yet these being embarrassments, and hindering us from going the nearest way
to our own good, why should we not endeavour to suppress and get over them P"
Thus people go on with words, which, when applied
to human nature, and the condition in which it is placed
in this world, have really no meaning. r For does not
all this kind of talk go upon supposition, that our happiness in this world consists in somewhat quite distinct
from regard to others; and that it is the privilege of vice
to be without restraint or confinement? Whereas, on
the contrary, the enjoyments, in a manner all the common enjoyments of life, even the pleasures of vice, depend upon these regards of one kind or another to our
fellow creatures. Throw off all regards to others, and
we should be quite indifferent to infamy and to honour;
there could be no such thing at all as ambition; and
scarce any such thing as covetousness; for we should
likewise be equally indifferent to the disgrace of poverty,
the several neglects and kinds of contempt which accompany this state; and to the reputation of riches, the regard and respect they usually procure. Neither is restraint by any means peculiar to one course of life: but
our very nature, exclusive of conscience and our condition, lays us under an absolute necessity of it. We cannot gain any end whatever without being confined to the
proper means, which is often the most painful and uneasy confinement. And in numberless instances a present appetite cannot be gratified without such apparent
and immediate ruin and misery, that the most dissolute
man in the world chooses to forego the pleasure, rather
than endure the pain.
Is the meaning then, to indulge those regards to our
fellow creatures, and submit to those restraints, which
upon the whole are attended with more satisfaction than
uneasiness, and get over only those which bring more
uneasiness and inconvenience than satisfaction?  "Doubt.
less this was our meaning."  You have changed sides
then. Keep to this; be consistent with yourselves; and




Im 111.1       UPON HUMAN NATURE.              51
you and the men of virtue are in general perfectly agreed.
But let us take care and avoid mistakes. Let it not le
taken for granted that the temper of envy, rage, resenttnent, yields greater delight than meekness, forgiveness,
compassion, and good-will: especially when it is acknowledged that rage, envy, resentment, are in themselves
mere misery; and the satisfaction arising from the indulgence of them is little more than relief from that misery;
whereas the temper of compassion and benevolence
is itself delightful; and the indulgence of it, by doing good, affords new positive delight and enjoyment.
Let it not be taken for granted, that the satisfaction arising from the reputation of riches and power, however
obtained, and from the respect paid to them, is greater
than the satisfaction arising from the reputation of justice, honesty, charity, and the esteem which is universally
acknowledged to be their du-. And if it be doubtful
which of these satisfactions is the greatest, as there are
persons who think neither of them very considerabl-,
yet there can be no doubt concerning ambition and
covetousness, virtue and a good mind, considered in
themselves, and as leading to different courses of life;
there can, I say, be no doubt, which temper and which
course is attended with most peace and tranquillity of
mind, which with most perplexity, vexation, and inconvenience. And both the virtues and vices which have
been now mentioned, do in a manner equally imply in
them regards of one kind or another to our fellow creatures. And with respect to restraint and confinement:
whoever will consider the restraints from fear and shame,
the dissimulation, mean arts of concealment, servile
compliances, one or other of which belong to almost every
course of vice, will soon be convinced that the man of
virtue fs by no means upon a disadvantage in this respect. How many instances are there in which men
feel and own and cry aloud under the chains of vice
with which they are enthralled, and which yet they will
aot shake off!  How many instances, in which persons
manifestly go through more pains and self-denial to
gratify a vicious passion, than would have been necessaty to the conquest of it!  To this is to be added, that
D2




52            UPON HUMAN NATURE.             [saL. IL
when virtue is become habitual, when the temper of it
is acquired, what was before confinement ceases to be
so, by becoming choice and delight. Whatever restraint and guard upon ourselves may be needful to
unlearn any unnatural distortion or odd gesture; yet,
in all propriety of speech, natural behaviour must be
the most easy and unrestrained. It is manifest that, in
the common course of life, there is seldom any inconsistency between our duty and what is called interest: it
is much seldomer that there is an inconsistency between
duty and what is really our present interest; meaning
by interest, happiness and satisfaction. Self-love then,
though confined to the interest of the present world,
does in general perfectly coincide with virtue; and leads
us to one and the same course of life. But, whatever
exceptions there are to this, which are much fewer than
they are commonly thought, all shall be set right at the
final distribution of things. It is a manifest absurdity
to suppose evil prevailing finally over good, under the
conduct and administration of a perfect mind.
The whole argument, which I have been now insisting upon, may be thus summed up, and given you in
one view. The nature of man, is adapted tO some course
of action or other. Upon comparing some actions with
this nature, they appear suitable and correspondent to
it: from comparison of other actions with the same nature, there arises to our view some unsuitableness or
disproportion. FThe correspondence of actions to the
nature of the agent renders them natural: their disproportion to it, unnatural. That an action is correspondent to the nature of thi agent, does not arise from its
being agreeable to the principle which happens to be
the strongest: for it may be so, and yet be quite disproportionate to the nature of the agent. The corresponldence therefore, or disproportion, arises from somewhat
else.  This can be nothing but a difference in nature
and kind, altogether distinct from strength, between the
inward principles.  Some then are in nature and kind
superior to others. And the correspondence arises from
the action being. conformable to the higher principle;
and the unsuitableness from its being contrary to it




. IV.]      UPON THE GOVERNMENT, ETC.             53
Reasonable self-love and conscience are the chief or
superior principles in the nature of man: because an
action may be suitable to this nature, though all other
principles be violated; but becomes unsuitable, if either
of those are.  Conscience and self-love, if we urderstand
our true happiness, always lead us the same way.  Duty
and interest are perfectly coincident: for the most part
in this world, but entirely and in every instance if we
take in the future, and the whole; this being implied in
the notion of a good and perfect administration of things.
Thus they who have been so wise in their generation as
to regard only their own supposed interest, at the eypense and to the injury of others, shall at last ffind, that
he who has given up all the advantages of the present
world, rather than violate his conscience and the relations of life, has infinitely better provided for himself,
and secured his own interest and happiness.
SERMON IV.
UPON THE GOVERNMENT OF THE TONGUE.
rf arty man among you seemnz to ie reliqious, and bridleth not hts
tongue, but deceiveth his own heart, this man's religion is vain.James i.'26.'rHE translation of this text would be more determinate
by being more literal, thus: If any man among you seemeth
to be religious. not bridling his tongue, but deceiving his own
heart, this,,tan's religion is vain.  This determines, that
the words, but deceiveth his own heart, are not put in opposition to, seemeth to be religious, but to, bridleth not his
tongue. The certain determinate meaning of the text
then being, that he who seemeth to be religious, and
bridleth not his tongue, but in that particular deceiveth
Ihis own heart, this man's religion is vain; we may ob.
serve somewhat very forcible and expressive in these
words of St James.  As if the apostle had said, No man
surely can make any pretences to religion, who does not
at least believe that he bridleth his tongue: if he puts on




UPON THE GOVERNMENT           SAm. IV.
any appearance or face of religion, and yet does not
gonvern his tongue, he must surely deceive himself in
that particular, and tliink he does: and whoever is so
unhappy as to deceive himself in this, to imagine he
keeps that unruly faculty in due subjection, when indeed
he does not, whatever the other part of his life be, his
religion is vain; the government of the tongue being a
most material restraint which virtue lays us under: without it no man can be truly religious.
In treating upon this subject, I will consider,
First, What is the general vice or fault here referred
to: or what disposition in men is supposed in moral reflections and precepts concerning bridling the tongue.
Secondly, When it may be said of anyo-ne, that he
has a due government siver himself in this respect.
I. Now the fault referred to, and the disposition supposed, in precepts and reflections concerning the government of the tongue, is not evil-speaking from malice,
nor lying or bearing false witness from indirect selfish
designs. The disposition to these, and the actual vices
themselves, all come under other subjects.  The tongue
may be employed about, and made to serve all the purposes of vice, in tempting arid deceiving, in perjury and
injustice. But the thing here supposed and referred to, is
talkativeness: a disposition to be talking, abstracted from
the consideration of what is to be said; with very little
or no regard to, or thought of doing, either good or
harm. And let not any imagine this to be a slight
matter, and that it deserves not to have so great weight
laid upon it; till he has considered, what evil is implied
in it, and the bad effects which follow from it.  It is
perhaps true, that they who are addicted to this folly
would choose to confine themselves to trifles and indifferent subjects, and so intend only to be guilty of being
impertinent: but as they cannot go on for ever talking
of nothing, as common matters will not afford a sufficient
fund for perpetual continued discourse: when subjects
of this kind are exhausted, they will go on to defamation:,
scandal, divulging of secrets, their own secrets as well as
those of,thers, any thincgrather than be silent. They
are,plainly hurried on in the heat of their talk to say




8iV ]              OF THE TONGUE.                  55
quite different things from what they first intended, and
which they afterwards wish unsaid: or improper things,
which they had no end in saying, but only to afford employment to their tongue. And if these people expect
to be heard and regarded, for there are some content
merely with talking, they will invent to engage your atteatiom: and, when they have heard the least imperfect
hint of an affair, they will out of their own head add the
circumstances of time and place, and other matters to
make out their story, and give the appearance of probability to it: not that they have any concern about being
believed, otherwise than as a means of being heard. The
thing is, to engage your attention; to take you up wholly
for the present time: what reflections will be made afterwards, is. in truthl the least of the - thoughts. And further,
when peZrsons, who indulge themselves in these liberties
of the tongue, are in any degree offended with another,
as little disgusts and misunderstandings will be, they
allow themselves to defame and revile such a one without any moderation or bounds; though the offence is so
very slight, that they themselves would not do, nor perhlaps wish him all injury in any other way.  And in this
case the scandal and revilings are chiefly owing to talkativeness, and not bridling their tongue; and so come
under our present subject.  The least occasion in the
world will make the humour break out in this particular
way, or in another.  It is like a torrent, which must and
will flow; but the least thing imaginable will first of all
give it either this or another direction, turn it into this
or that channel: or like a fire; the nature of which,
when in a heap of combustible matter, is to spread and
lay waste all around; but anv one of a thousand little
accidents will occasion it to break out first either in this
or another particular part.
Tile subject then before us, though it does run up into,,
and can scarce be treated as entirely distinct from all
others; yet it needs not to be so much mixed or blended
with them as it often is.  Every faculty and power may
be use! as the instrument of premeditated vice and
wicked.ess, merely as the most proper and effectual
means of executing such designs. But if a man, from




56             UPON THE GOVERNMENT           [ISI. IV
deep malice and desire of revenge, should meditate a
falsehood with a settled design to ruin his neighbour s
reputation, and should with great coolness and deliberation spread it; nobody would choose to say of such a
one, that he had no government of his tongue. A man
may use the faculty. of speech as an instrument of false
witness, who yet has so entire a command over that
faculty, as never to speak but from forethought and cool
design.. Here the crime is injustice and perjury: and,
strictly speaking, no more belongs to the present subject,
than perjury and injustice in any other way. But there
is such a thing as a disposition to be talking for its own
sake; from which persons often say any thing, good or
bad, of others, merely as a subject of discourse, according to the particular temper they themselves happen to
be in, and to pass away the present time. There is likewise to be observed in persons such a strong and eager
desire of engaging attention to what they say, that they
will speak good or evil, truth or otherwise, merely as
one or the other seems to be most hearkened to: and
this, though it is sometimes joined. is not the same with
the desire of being thought important and men of consequence. There is in some such a disposition to be talking, that an offence of the slightest kind, and such as
would not raise any other resentment, yet raises, if I
may so speak, the resentment of the tongue, puts it into
a flame, into the most ungovernable motions. This outrage, when the person it respects is present, we distinguish in the lower rank of people by a peculiar term:
and let it be observed, that though the decencies of
behaviour are a little kept, the same outrage and virulence, indulged when he is absent, is an offence of the
same kind. But not to distinguish any farther in this
manner: men run into faults and follies, which cannot
so properly be referred to any one general head as this,
that they have not a due government over their tongue.
And this unrestrained volubility and wantonness of
speech is the occasion of numberless evils and vexations
in life. It begets resentment in him who is the subject
of it; sows the seed of strife and dissension amongst
others: and inflames little disgusts and offences, which




ma. IV.]          OF THE TONGUE.                 57
if let alone would wear away of themselves: it is often
of as bad effect upon the good name of others, as deep envy
or malice: and, to say the least of it in this respect, it
destroys and perverts a certain equity of the utmost importance to society to be observed; namely, that praise
anrd dispraise, a good or bad character, should always
be bestowed according to desert. The tongue used in
such a licentious manner is like a sword in the hand of
a madman; it is employed at random, it can scarce possibly do any good, and for the most part does a world
of mischief; and implies not only great folly and a trifling
spirit, but great viciousness of mind, great indifference
to truth and falsity, and to the reputation, welfare, and
good of others. So much reason is there for what St
James says of the tongue.' It is a fire, a world of iniquity, it defileth the whole body, setteth on fire the course of
nature, and is itself set on fire of hell.  This is the faculty
or disposition which we are required to keep a guard
upon: these are the vices and follies it runs into, when
not kept under due restraint.
II. Wherein the due government of the tongue consists, or when it may be said of any one in a mhodal and
religious sense that he bridleth his tongue, I come now to
consider.
The due and proper use of any natural faculty or
power, is to be judged of by the end and design for which
it was given us. The chief purpose, for which the faculty
of speech was given to man, is plainly that we might
communicate our thoughts to each other, in order to
carry on the affairs of the world; for business, and for
our improvement in knowledge and learning. But the
good Author of our nature designed us not only necessaries, but likewise enjoyment and satisfaction, in that
being he hath graciously given, and in that condition ot
life he hath placed us in. There are secondary uses ot
our faculties: they administer to delight, as well as to
necessity: and as they are equally adapted to both, there
is no doubt but he intended them for our gratification,
as well as for the support and continuance of our being.
The secondary use of speech is to please and be enter* Chap. iii. ver. 6.




58             UPON THE GOVERNMENT             LESR. IV.
taining to each other in conversation. This is in every
respect allowable and right: it unites men closer in
alliances and friendships; gives us a fellow feeling of the
prosperity and unhappiness of each other; and is in several respects serviceable to virtue, and to promote good
behaviour in the world. And provided there be not too
much time spent in as, if it were considered only in the
way of gratification aind delight, men must have strange
notions of God and of religion, to think that he can be
offended with it, or that it is any way inconsistent with
the strictest virtue.  But the truth is, such sort of conversation, though it >?s no particular good tendency, yet
it has a general geiod one: it is social and friendly, and
tends to promote humanity, good-nature, and civility.
As the end and use, so likewise the abuse of speech,
relates to the one or other of these; either to business,
or to conversation. As to the former; deceit in the
management of buLness and affairs does not properly
belong to the subject now before us: though one may
just mention that multitude, that endless number of
words, with which business is perplexed; when a much
fewer would, as it should seem, better serve the purpose:
but this must be left to those who understand the matter.
The government of the tongue, considered as a subject
of itself, relates chiefly to conversation; to that kind of
discourse which usually fills up the time spent in friendly
meetings, and visits of civility. And the danger is, lcst
persons entertain themselves and others at the expense
of their wisdom and their virtue, and to the injury or
offence of their neighbour. If they will observe and keep
clear of these, they may be as free, and easy, and unreserved, as they can desire.
The cautions to be given for avoiding these dangers,
and to render conversation innocent and agreeable, fall
under the following particulars: silence; talking of indifferent things; and which makes up too great a part
of conversation, giving of characters, speaking well or
evil of others.
"he Wise Man observes, that there is a time to speazk,
atzd a time to keep silence. One meets with Ipeople in
the world. 1who seem never to have made the last of these




&. 1.]           O THE TONGUE.                  59
observations. And yet these great talkers do not at all
speak from their having any thing to say, as every sen.
tence shows, but only from their inclination to be talkini.
Their conversation is merely an exercise of the tongue:
no other human faculty has any share in it.  It is strange
these persons can help reflecting, that unless they have
in truth a superior capacity, and are in an extraordinary
manner furnished for conversation; if they are entertaining, it is at their own expense.  Is it possible, that
it should never come into people's thoughts to suspect,
whether or no it be to their advantage to show so very
much of themselves P  Oh that you would altogether hold
your peace, and it should be your wisdom.*  Remember
likewise there are persons who love fewer words, an
inoffensive sort of people, and who deserve some regard,
thouogh of too still and composed tempers for you. Of
s number was the son of Sirach: for he plainly speaks
fromn experience, when he says, As hills of sands are to
the steps of the,gred, so is one of many words to a quiet
manl. But one would think it should be obvious to every
one, that when they are in company  ith their Superiors
of any kind, in years, knowledge, and experience: wheL
proper and useful subjects are discoursed of, which the)
cannot bear a part in; that these are times for silence:
when thev should learn to hear, and be attentive; at least
in their turn. It is indeed a very unhappy way these
people are in: they in a manner cut themselves out from
all advantage of conversation, except that of beiing entertained( with their own talk: their business in coming into
company not being at all to be informed, to hear, to
learn; but to display themselves; or rather to exert their
faculty, and talk without any design at all. And if we
consider conversation as an entertainment, as somewhat
to unbend the mind; as a diversion from the cares, the
Dusiness, and the sorrows of life; it is of the very nature
of' it, that the discourse be mutual.  This, I sayv  s implied in the very notion of what we distinguish jy conversation, or being in company. Attention to the continued discourse of one alone grows more painful often,
than the cares and business we come to be diverted from.
* Job xiii.




60             UPON THE GOVERNMENT             [Sla Iv,
He therefore who imposes this upon us is guilty of a
double offence; arbitrarily enjoining silence upon all the
rest, and likewise obliging them to this painful attention.
I am sensible these things are apt to be passed over,
as too little to come into a serious discourse: but in reality men are obliged, even in point of morality and virtue,
to observe all the decencies of behaviour. The greatest
evils in life have had their rise from somewhat, which
was thought of too little importance to be attended to.
And as to the matter we are now upon, it is absolutely
necessary to be considered. For if people will not
maintain a due government over themselves, in regardinUg proper times and seasons for silence, but will be
talking; they certainly, whether they design it or not at
first, will go on to scandal and evil-speaking, and divulging secrets.
If it were needful to say any thing further, to persuade
men to learn this lesson of silence; one might put them
in mind, how insignificant they render themselves by
this excessive talkativeness: insomuch that, if they do
chance to say any thing which deserves to be attended
to and regarded, it is lost in the variety and abundance
which they utter of another sort.
The occasions of silence then are obvious, arnd one
would think should be easily distinguished by every
body: namely, when a man has nothing to say; or nothing, but what is better unsaid: better, either in regard to
particular persons he is present with; or from its being
an interruption to conversation itself; or to conversation
of a more agreeable kind; or better, lastly, with regard
to himself.  I will end this particular with two reflections of the Wise Man: one of which, in the strongest
manner, exposes the ridiculous part of this licentiousness
of the tongue; and the other, the great danger and viciousness of it.  TVWhen he that is a fool walketh by the
way side, his wisdom faileth him, and he saith to every
one that he is a fool.. The other is, In the multitude oJ
words there wanteth not sin.t
As to the government of the tongue in respect to talkilg upon indifferent subjects: after what has been said
* ZEees. x. 3.             t Prov. x. 19,




In. lvT.           OF THE TONGUE.                 61
concerning the due government of it in respect to the
occasions and times for silence, there is little more necessary, than only to caution men to be fully satisfied,
that the subjects are indeed of an indifferent nature; and
not to spend too much time in conversation of this kind.
But persons must be sure to take heed, that the subject
of their discourse be at least of an indifferent nature:
that it be no way offensive to virtue, religion, or good
manners; that it be not of a licentious dissolute sort,
this leaving always ill impressions upon the mind; that
it be n(, way injurious or vexatious to others; and that
too much time be not spent this way, to the neglect of
those duties and offices of life which belong to their station and condition in the world. However, though there
is not any necessity that men should aim at being important and weighty ir, every sentence they speak: yet
since useful subjects, at least of some kinds, are as en
tertaining as others; a wise man, even when he desires
to unbend his mind from business, would choose that
the conversation might turn upon somewhat instructive.
The last thing is, the government of the tongue as relating to discourse of the affairs of others, and giving of
characters. These are in a manner the same: and one
can scarce call it an indifferent subject, because discourse
upon it almost perpetually runs into somewhat criminal.
And first of all, it were very much to be wished that
this did not take up so great a part of conversation; because it is indeed a subject of a dangerous nature.  Let
any one consider the varions interests, competitions, and
little misunderstandings which arise amongst men; and
he will soon see, that he is not unprejudiced and impartial; that he is not, as I may speak, neutral enough, to
trust himself with talking of the character and concerns
of his neighbour, in a free, careless, and unreserved
manner. There is perpetually, and often it is not attended to, a rivalship amongst people of one' kind or another, in respect to wit, beauty, learning, fortune, and
that one thing will insensibly influence them to speak to
the disadvantage of others, even where there is no formed malice or ill design.  Since therefore it is so hard to
enter into this subject without offending, the first thing




62             UPON THE GOVERNMENT        [SEa. IV.
to be observed is, that people should learn to decline it;
to get over that strong inclination most have to be talking of the concerns and behaviour of their neighbour.
But since it is impossible that this subject should be
wholly excluded conversation; and since it is necessary
that the characters of men should be known: the next
thing is, that it is a matter of importance what is said;
and therefore, that we should be religiously scrupulous
and exact to say nothing, either good or bad, but what
is true. I put it thus, because it is in reality of as
great importance to the good of society, that the characters of bad men should be known, as that the characters of good men should. People, who are given to
scandal and detraction, may indeed make an ill use of
this observation; but truths which are of service towards
regulating our conduct, are not to be disowned, or even
concealed because a bad use may be made of them.
This however would be effectually prevented, if these
two things were attended to.  First, That, though it is
equally of bad consequence to society, that men should
have either good or ill characters which they do not
deserve; yet, when you say somewhat good of a man
which he does not deserve, there is no wrong done him
in particular; whereas, when you say evil of a man
which he does not deserve, here is a direct formal injury,
a real piece of injustice done him.  This therefore makes
a wide difference; and gives us, in point of virtue, mnuch
greater latitude in speaking well than ill of others.
Secondly, A good man is friendly to his fellow creatures,
and a lover of mankind; and so will, upon every occasion, and often without any, say all the good he can of
every body: but so far as he is a good man, will never
be' disposed to speak evil of any, unless there be some
other reason for it, besides barely that it is true.  If he
be charged with having given an ill character, he will
scarce think it a sufficient justification of himself to say
it was a true one, unless he can also give some further
account how he came to do so: a just indignation against
particular instances of villany, where they are great and
scandalous; or to prevent an innocent man from being
deceived and betraved, when he has great trust and




Sm IV.            OF THE TONGUE.                 63
confidence in one who does not deserve it. Justice must
be done to every part of a subject when we are considering it. If there be a man, who bears a fair character in the
world, whom yet we know to be without faith or honesty,
to be really an ill man; it must be allowed in general, that
we shall do a piece of service to society, by letting such
a one's true character be known. This is no more than
what we have an instance of in our Saviour himself;
though he was mild and gentle beyond example.*  However, no words can express too strongly the caution
which should be used in such a case as this.
Upon the whole matter: If people would observe the
obvious occasions of silence, if they would subdue the inclinations to tale-bearing, and that eager desire to engage
attention, which is an original disease in some minds;
they would be in little danger of offending with their
tongue; and would, in a moral and religious sense, have
due government over it.
I will conclude with some precepts and reflections of
the Son of Sirach upon this subject.  Be swift to -hear;
and, if' thou hast understanding, answer thy neiglhbour; if
not, lay thy hand upon. thy mouth. Honour and shame is
in talk.. A man. oJ' an ill tongue is dangerous in his city,
and he that is rash, in his talk shall be hated. A wise man
will hold his tongue till he see opportunity; but a babbler
and a Jbol will regard no time.  He that usetlh many words
shall be abhorred; and he that taketh to himself authority
therein, shall be hated. A backbiting tongue hath disquieted
many; strong cities hath it pulled down, and overthrown
the houses oJ great men.  The tongue of a man is his fall;
but if thou love to hear, thou shalt receive understandinm.'* IM'ark xii. Mt 40.




64                        UPON CO MPASSTON.                               f 
SERMON V.
UPON  C.  MPASSION.
Iejoiee  wLihi   e thern that dv rewieoice,  a'i,'c2p with them  that weep.
Ro.n. xii. 1.
EVERY man is to be considered in two capacities, the pri.
vate and public; as designed to pursue his own interest,
and likewise to contribute to the good of others.  Whoever will consider, may see, that in general there is no
contrariety between these; but that from the original
constitution of man, and the circumstances he is placed
in, they perfectly coincide, and mutually carry on each
other.   But, amongst the  great variety  of affections  or
principles of action in our nature, some in their primary
intention   and  design  seem   to  belong  to  the  single  oI
private, others  to  the  public  or social capacity.   The
affections required in the text are of the latter sort.
When we rejoice in the prosperity of others, and compassionate their distresses. we, as it were, substitute them
for ourselves, their interest for our own; and have the
same kind of pleasure in their prosperity, and sorrow in
*heir distress, as we have  from  reflection  upon  our own.
Now there is nothing strange or unaccountable in our
being thus carried out, and affected towa-'ds the interests
of others.   For, if there  be any  appetite, or  any inward
principle besides self-love; why may there not be an
affection  to the good  of our fellow  creatures, and delight
from  that affection's being gratified, and uneasiness fioron
thirgs going contrary  to it?*
* There being manifestly this appearance of men's substituting others for th, 1r..
selves, and beings carried out and affected towards them as towards themselves; solle
persons, who have a system vllich excludes every affection of this sort, have takell an
pleasant nmethod to solve it; and tell you it is not another you are at all conlceri,cd
about, but your self only, when you feel the affection called compassion, i. e. Her e is
a plain matter of fact, which men callllot reCOIICile witln tile general account they
think fit to give of tlillgs: they therefore, instwd of that manlifst fact, substitute
another, whlichl is reconcileable to their own scheme.  For does not every body by
compassioll mteall an affiction, the object of which is another in distress?  Instead of
this, but designinlg to have it mistaken for this, they speak of an affection or passien,
the object of which is ourselves, or danlger to ourselves.  Htobbes defines pity, imagi*ation, or fietio. of future calamity to ourselves, proceeding from the sense (he means




Vm. V.]                      UPON COMPASSION.                                       65
Of these two, delight in the prosperity of others, and
compassion for their distresses, the last is felt much more
generally than the former. Though men do not universally rejoice with all whom they see rejoice, yet, acc.i:
sight or knoxwledge) of another man's calamity.  Thus fear and compassion would Le
the sanme idea, and a fearfll and a compassionate mall the same character, whicl
every man immediately sees are totally diff(rent.  Further, to those who give any
scope to their aff-cioJls, there is 110 perception or inward feeling more universal than
tilis: that oJlln  who Ihas b)eenl mlercilftl and compassionate throughout the course of hi.s
beliaviour, sllould himself be trcated with kindness, if he happens to fall into circuniStmiaces of dlistress.  Is fear, tlien, or cowardice, so great a recommendation to the
dai our of tile bulk of niankinl?  Or is it not. plain, that mere fearlessness (and therefore Iot the contrary) is one of the most popular qualifications?  This shows that
lanlkind are nlot affected t\owards compassion as fear, hut as somewhat totally
dili'renl;lt.
Nothing would more expose ~utel  aiccounts as these of the affections which are
favourable and friendly to our feilow cr4 atlres, than  to substitute the definitions,
whichl this autthor, and others w!to follow his steps, give of such affections, instead of
the words by wlich tihey are commllaoly expressedl.  tlobb)es, after having laid down,
that pity or conmpassion is only.;ar tior ourselves, goes on to explain the reason why
wel pity our lrieimids in distress morel than others.  Now substitute the definition inl.t1.:;!(
of thie wvord pity ill this place, and tile inquiry will be, why we fear our frifnds. &(c..
wichl \01(1rds (siiict' Ite( really does not mean why we are afraid of tilewm) make no
ql.lItiClei  o.r seltietce  t all.  So that common lalgulage, tihe words to cowlpassionate,
to pity,.,'mmiot be a;colmmodated to his accoulnt of c(ompassi.o.'IlThe very joi;I (ift of
tiU. words to pity our friends, is a direct coltradictiol to hiis it fillilion of pity: bccau-11,'
t.st' Wo()lrd, so jointed, necessarily eXlr'ess tlat our friiends are the objects of Il:e
passion: wVIlwras his defillitiom  of it asserts, that ourselves (or danger to ourselve- 
are thfe oly olbjects of it.  H.e llighlt ildeed have avoidled this absurdity, by ldhimily
saying whait le is (oiig to accollunt;or; I, namely, why the sighlt of tie innlocel, (Or i.t
our firitnds inll dislmtss, Iraise greatl.r fti'r t)r ourserlvyes than the sight of other persons
iii disiress.  But lad fli pIut tlit tul'imm  tiius plaijnly, the fact itself would have bet 11
doulbted; thalt the sight of our /11  ieds in distress raises in us greater fear for our-,elves, than the sigh;: ou others iL (listress.  Alid inl tile next pl;ce it would iminlidiate iy h;:e occ(:iirred t(o etsry ()oie;, ti;;t t~he fict now mentioned, which at le.ast is
doabtfidl, whettler tlrue  r otiale, wa\\. Iio(  the salme with this fact, which nobody ev, I
do;l)ted, tltl the sight oj 0o/('  iends n disrtress raises in us greater compassion than
the sight of others in dlistres   evtery one, I say, would have seen that these are l]o;.ile same, I)ut tivo different illquiries; mind consequently, that fear and compassion!l;rt
tiot tth salme.  Supplose a pr.loll to l)e in real danger, and by some means or ote}:(r
t — la'-c. ti)i-ot, ic;'iiy triflilg accident, any sound might afarm  him, recall tic
il~''r t(o Ihis rtllt lml)lbrallce, and renew his fear: but it is almost too grossly rid'culoun (, ologi it is to show all absurdity) to speak of that sound or accident as all objifct
of comialioll; antld yet, according to Mr hlobbes, our greatest firiend in distress is
ll0 1101r. 10 (IS,   110more t  tilhe object of compassion, or of any affection in oul' heart:
at'iti,lr Li.t ole l(or tile other raises any emotion in our mind, but only the thought.s
of o01' lialdleuess to calamity, and the fetar of it; and both equally do this.  It is fit
such sort of arccounts of human nature should be shown to be what they really alt,,
b cause there is raised upon them  a general scheme which undermines the whole
folundation of col:mmon justice and honesty.  See Hobbes of Hutnan Natltre, c. 9. ~ 10.
r'htre arel often three distinct perceptions or inward feelings upon sight of persons
in distless: real sorrow anld concern for the misery of our fellow creatures; some
degree of satishictioll fiom a consciousness of our freedom from that misery; and as
the mimll passes oil troml one thing to another, it is not unnatural fiom such an occa.
sion to reflct upon our liableness to the same or other calamities.  The two last
frequeatly accompany the first, but it is the frst only which is proper compassion, of
which the distressed are objects, and which directly carries as with calmness and
thoughlt to thleir assistance.  Anly one of these, from various and complicated reasons
may il particular cases prevail over the other two; and there are, I suppose, instances, wheie the bare sight of distress, without our feeling any compassion for il,
E




66                     UPON COMPASSION.    1"3. V.
dental obstacles removed, they naturally compassionate
all, in some degree, whom  they see in distress; so far as
they have any real perception or sense of that distress:
insomuch  that words expressing  this latter, pity, compassion, frequently occur; whereas we have scarce any
single one, by which the former is distinctly expressed.
Congratulation indeed answers condolence: but both
these words are intended to signify certain forms of
civility, rather than any inward sensation or feeling.
This difference or inequality is so remarkable, that we
plainly consider compassion as itself an original, distinct,
particular affection in human nature; whereas to rejoice
in the good of others, is only a consequence of the
general affection  of love  and  good-will to them.   The
reason and account of which matter is this': when a
man has obtained any particular advantage or felicity,
his end is gained; and he does not in that particular
want the assistan'cet of another: there was therefore no
need of a distinct affection towards that felicity of another
already obtained: neither would such affection directly
carry him on to do good to that person: whereas mett
in distress want assistance; and compassion leads us
directly to assist them. The object of the former is the
present felicity of another; the object of the latter is the
present misery  of another.   It is easy  to  see  that the
latter wants a particular affection for its relief, and that
the former does not want one, because it does not want:assistance. And upon supposition of a distinct affection
in both cases, the one must rest in the exercise of itself,
having nothing further to gain; the other does not rest
in itself, but carries us on to assist the distressed.
But, supposing these affections natural to the mind,
may be the occasion of either or both of the two latter perceptions. One might add;that if there be really ary such thinga as the fiction or imagination of danger to our
selves from the sight of the misery of others, which Hobbes speaks of, and which ihe
has absurdly mistaken for the whole of compassion; if there be any thing of this sort
common to mankind, distinct from the reflection of reason, it would be a most
remarkable instance of what was furthest from the thoughts, namely, of a mutual
sympathy between each particular of the species, a fellow feeling common to mankind. It would not indeed be an example of our substituting others for ourselves,
but it would be an example of substituting ourselves for others. And as it would,not be an instance of benevolence, so neither would it be an instance of self-love:
fb this phantom of danger to ourselves, naturally rising to view upon sight of the
4istresses of others would be no more an instance of love to ourselves, than the pahm
ed hunger is.




gm v.J          UPCN COMPASSION.                67
particularly the last; "Has not each man troubles enough
of his own? must he indulge an affection which appropriates to himself those of others  which leads him to
contract the least desirable of all friendships, friendships
with the unfortunate? M ust we invert the known rule of
prudence, and choose to associate ourselves with the distressed? or, allowing that we ought, so far as it is in our
power to relieve them, yet is it not better to do this from
reason and duty? Does not passion and affection of
every kind perpetually mislead us? Nay, is not passion
and affection itself a weakness, and what a perfect being
must be entirely free from?" Perhaps so: but it is
mankind I am speaking of; imperfect creatures, and
who naturally, and, from the condition we are placed in,
necessarily depend upon each other. With respect to
such creatures, it would be found of as bad consequence
to eradicate all natural affections, as to be entirely governed by them.  This would almost sink us to the
conditi on of brutes; and that would leave us without a
sufficient principle of action. TReason alone, whatever
any one may wish, is not in reality a sufficient motive
of virtue in such a creature as man; but this reason joined
with those affections which God has impressed upon his
heart: and when these are allowed scope to exercise
themselves, but under strict government and direction of
reason; then it is we act suitably to our nature, and to
the circumstances God has placed us in. Neither is
affection itself at all a weakness; nor does it argue defect,
any otherwise than as our senses and appetites do; they
belong to our condition of nature, and are what we cannot do without. God Almighty is, to be sure, unmoved
by passion or appetite, unchanged by affection: but then
it is to be added, that he neither sees, nor hears, nor
perceives things by any senses like ours; but in a manner infinitely more perfect. Now, as it is an absurdity
almost too gross to be mentioned, for a man to endea
vour to get rid of his senses, because the Supreme Being
discerns things more perfectly without them; it is a real,
though not so obvious an absurdity, to endeavour to
eradicate the passions he has given us, because he is
without them. For, since our passions are as really
E 




68               UPON COMPASSION.             [ai.,.
a part of our constitution as our senses; since the former
as really belong to our condition of nature as the
latter to get rid of either is equally a violation of, and
breaking in upon, that nature and constitution he has
given us. Both our senses and our passions are a supplv to the imperfection of our nature: thus they show
that we are such sort of creatures, as to stand in need
of those helps which higher orders of creatures do not.
But it is not the supply, but the deficiency; as it is not a
r.: medy, but a disease, which is the imperfection. However, our appetites, passions, senses, no way imply
disease: nor indeed do they imply deficiency or imperfeclion of any sort; but only this, that the constitution of
nature, according to which God has made us, is such as
to require them. And it is far from being true, that a
wise man must entirely suppress compassion, and all
fellow feeling for others, as a weakness; and trust to
reason alone to teach and enforce upon him the practice
of the several charities we owe to our kind; that, on the
contrary, even the bare exercise of such affections would
itself be for the good and happiness of the world; and
the imperfection of the higher principles of reason and
religion in man, the little influence they have upon our
practice, and the strength and prevalency of contrary
ones, plainly require these affections to be a restraint
upon these latter, and a supply to the deficiencies of the
former.
First, The very exercise itself of these affections in a
just and reasonable manner and degree, would upon the
whole increase the satisfactions, and lessen the miseries
of life.
It is the tendency and business of virtue and religion
to procure, as much as may be, universal good-will, trust,
and friendship amongst mankind. If this could be
brought to obtain; and each man enjoyed the happiness
of others, as every one does that of a friend; and looked
upon the success and prosperity of his neighbour, as
every one does upon that of his children and family; it
is too manifest to be insisted upon, how much the enjoyments of life would be increased. There would be so
much happiness introduced into the world, without any




Sz. V.]          UPON COMPASSION.                 69
deduction or inconvenience from it, in proportion as the
precept of rejoicing with those who rejoice was universally
obeyed. Our Saviour has owned this good affection as
belonging to our nature, in the parable of the lost sheep,
and does not think it to the disadvantage of a perfect
state, to represent its happiness as capable of increase,
fr'om reflection upon that of others.
But since in such a creature as man, compassion or
sorrow for the distress of others seems so far necessarily
connected with joy in their prosperity, as that whoever
rejoices in one must unavoidably compassionate the
other; there cannot be that delight or satisfaction, which
appears to be so considerable, without the inconveniences, whatever they are, of compassion.
However, without considering this connexion, there
is no doubt but'that more good than evil, more delight
than sorrow, arises from compassion itself; there being
so many things which balance the sorrow of it.  There
is first the relief which the distressed feel from this affection in others towards them. There is likewise the ad-.
ditional misery which they would feel from the reflection, that no one commiserated their case. It is indeed
true, that any disposition, prevailing beyond a certainw
degree, becomes somewhat wrong; and we have ways
of speaking, which, though they do not directly express
that excess, yet, always lead our thoughts to it, and give
us the notton of it. Thus, when mention is made of delight in being pitied, this always conveys to our mind
the notion of somewhat which is really a weakness: the
manner of speaking, I say, implies a certain weakness
and feebleness of mind, which is and ought to be disapproved.  But men of the greatest fortitude would in
distress feel uneasiness, from knowing that no person
in the world had any sort of compassion or real concern
for them; and in some cases, especially when the temper is enfeebled by sickness, or any long and great distress, doubtless, would feel a kind of relief even from the
helpless good-will and ineffectual assistances of those
about them. Over against the sorrow of.compassion is
likewise to be set a peculiar calm kind of satisfaction,
which accompanies it, unless in cases where the distress




70               UPON COMPASSION.             LS. T.
of another is by some means so brought home to ourselves, as to become in a manner our own; or when from
weakness of mind the affection rises too high, which
ought to be corrected. This tranquillity or calm satisfaction proceeds partly from consciousness of a right affection and temper of mind, and partly from a sense of our
own freedom from the misery we compassionate. This
last may possibly appear to some at first sight faulty;
but it really is not so. It is the same with'that positive
enjoyment, which sudden ease from pain for the present
affords, arising fiom a rcal sense of misery, joined with
a sense of our freedom from it; which in all cases must
afford some degree of satisfaction.
To these things must be added the observation, which
respects both the affections we are considering; that
they who have got over all fellow feeling for others, have
withal contracted a certain callousness of heart, which
renders them insensible to most other satisfactions, bus
those of the grossest kind.
Secondly, Without the exercise of these affections,
men would certainly be much more wanting in the offices of charity they owe to each other, and likewise more
cruel and injurious, than they are at present.
The private interest of the individual would not be
sufficiently provided for by reasonable and cool self-love
alone; therefore the appetites and passions are placed
within as a guard and further security, without which it
would not be taken due care of. It is manifest our life
would be neglected, were it not for the calls of hunger,
and thirst, and weariness; notwithstanding that without
them reason would assure us, that the recruits of food
and sleep are the necessary means of our preservation.
It is therefore absurd to imagine, that without affection,
the same reason alone would be more effectual to engage us to perform  the duties we owe to our fellow
creatures.  One of this make would be as defective, as
much wanting, considered with respect to society, as one
of the former make would be defective, or wanting,
considered as an individual, or in his private capacity.
Is it possible any can in earnest think, that a public spirit,
i. e. a settled reasonable principle of benevolence to




SEB. V.]        UPON COMPASSION.                 71
mankind, is so prevalent and strong in the species, as that
we may venture to throw off the under affections, which
are its assistants, carry it forward and mark out particular courses for it; family, friends, neighbourhood, the
distressed, our countryP The common joys and the
common sorrows, which belong to these relations and
circumstances, are as plainly useful to society, as the
pain and pleasure belonging to hunger, thirst, and weariness, are of service to the individual.  In defect of that
higher principle of' reason, compassion is often the only
way by which the indigent can have access to us: and
therefore, to eradicate this, though it is not indeed formlally to deny them that assistance which is their due;
yet it is to cut them off from that which is too frequently
their only way of obtaining it. And as for those who
have shut up this door against the complaints of the
miserable, and conquered this affection in themselves;
even these persons will be under great restraints from
the same affection in others.  Thus a man who has himself no sense of injustice, cruelty, oppression, will be
kept from running the utmost lengths of wickedness, by
fear of that detestation, and even resentment of inhuinanity, in many particular instances of it, which compassion for the object towards whom such inhumanity
is exercised, excites in the bulk of mankind. And this
is frequently the chief danger, and the chief restraint,
which tyrants and the great oppressors of the world
feel.
In general, experience will show, that as want of
natural appetite to food supposes and proceeds from
some bodily disease; so the apathy the Stoics talk of, as
much supposes, or is accompanied with, somewhat amiss
in the moral character, in that which is the health of the
mind. Those who formerly aimed at this upon the foot
of philosophy, appear to have had bet er success in
eradicating the affections of tenderness and compassion,
thian they had with the passions of envy, pride, and resentment: these latter, at best, were but concealed, and
tlhat imperfectly too.  How far this observation may be
extended to such as endeavour to suppress the natural;inpu]lses of their affections, in order to form themselves




72               UPON COMPASSION.            [IS,..
for business and the world, I shall not determine.  But
there does not appear any capacity or relation to be
named, in which men ought to be entirely deaf to the
calls of affection, unless the judicial one is to be ex —
cepted.
And as to those who are commonly called the men of
pleasure, it is manifest, that the reason they set up for
hardness of heart, is to avoid being interrupted in their
course, by the ruin and misery they are the authors of:
neither are persons of this character always the most
free from the impotencies of envy and resentment.
What may men at last bring themselves to, by suppressing their passions and affections of one kind, and leaving those of the other in their full strength P  But surely
it might be expected that persons who make pleasure
their study and their business, if they understood what
they profess, would reflect, how many of the entertainments of life, how many of those kindrof amusements
which seem peculiarly to belong to men of leisure and
education, they become insensible to by this acquiredl
hardness of heart.
I shall close these reflections with barely mentioning
the behaviour of that divine Person, who was the example of all perfection in human nature, as represented in
the Gospels mourning, and even, in a literal sense,
weeping over the distresses of his creatures.
The observation already made, that, of the two affections mentioned in the text, the latter exerts itself much
more than the former; that, from the original constitution of human nature, we much more generally and
sensibly compassionate the distressed, than rejoice with
the prosperous, requires to be particularly considered.
This observation, therefore, with the reflections which
arise out of it, and which it leads our thoughts to, shall
he the subject of another discourse.
For the conclusion of this, let me just take notice of
the danger of over-great refinements; of going besides
or beyond the plain, obvious, first appearances of things,
upon the subject of morals and religion. The least ob.
servation will show, how little the generality of men are
capable of speculations.  Therefore morality and religion




gm V.]          UPON COMPASSION.                 73
must be somewhat plain and easy to be understood: it
must appeal to what we call plain common sense, as
distinguished from superior capacity and improvement;
because it appeals to mankind. Persons of superior
capacity and improvement have often fallen into errors,
which no one of mere common understanding could.
Is it possible that one of this latter character could ever
of himself have thought, that there was absolutely no
such thing in mankind as affection to the good of others?
Suppose of parents to their children; or that what he
felt upon seeing a friend in distress was only fear for himself; or, upon supposition of the affections of kindness
and compassion, that it was the business of wisdom and
virtue to set him about extirpating them as fast as he
could?  And yet each of these manifest contradictions
to nature has been laid dowri by men of speculation, as
a discovery in moral philosophy; which they, it seems,
have found out through all the specious appearances to
the contrary.  This reflection may be extended further.
The extravagancies of enthusiasm and superstition (A"o
not at all lie in the road of common sense; and there.fore, so far as they are oriqinal mistakes, must be owing
to going beside or beyond it. Now, since inquiry andl
examination can relate only to things so obscure and
uncertain as to stand in need of it, and to persons who
are capable of it; the proper advice to be given to plain
honest men, to secure them from the extremes both of
superstition and irreligion, is that of the son of Sirachll:
In every good work trust thy own soul; for this is thi
keeping of the commandment.*
*e, e&Uiiu..,3.




74               UPON COMPASSION.              _ VL
SERM ON VI.
UPON COMPASSION.
PREACHED TIE FIRST SUNDAY IN IENT.
Rejoice with them that do r:joice, and weep with them that weep.,.
Romn. xii. 15.
THERE is a much more exact correspondence between
the natural and moral world, than we are apt to take
notice of. The inward frame of man does in a peculiar
manner answer to the external condition and circumstances of life, in which he is placed. This is a particular
instance of that general observation of the son of Sirach:
All things are double one againstZther, and God hath
made nothing imperfect.*  The several passions and affections in the heart of' man, compared with the circumstances of life in which he is placed, afforl, to such as
will attend to them, as certain instances of final causes,
as any whatever, which are more commonly alleged for
such: since those affections lead him to a certain determinate course of action suitable to those circumstances,
as (for instance) compassion, to relieve the distressed.
And as all observations of final causes, drawn from the
principles of action in the heart of man, compared with
the condition he is placed in, serve all the good uses
which instances of final causes in the material world
about us do; and both these are equally proofs of wisdom
and design in the Author of nature: so the formner serve
to further good purposes; they show us what course of
life we are made for, what is our duty, and in a peculiar
maniter eaforce upon us the practice of it.
Suppose we are capable of happiness and of misery in
degrees equally intense and extreme, yet, we are capable
of the latter for a much longer time, beyond all comparison. We see men in the tortures of pain for hours,
days, and, excepting the short suspensions of sleep, for
months together, without intermission; to which no enjoyments of life do, in degree and continuance, bear any
* Ecclus. xlii. 24.




sIa. V.]         UPON COMPASSION.                75
sort of proportion.  And such is our make and that of
the world about us, that any thing may become the
instrument of pain and sorrow to us. Thus almost any
one man is capable of doing mischief to any other, though
ne may not be capable of doing him good: and if he be
capable of doing him some good, he is capable of doing
him more evil. And it is, in numberless cases, much
more in our power to lessen the miseries of others, than
to promote their positive happiness, any otherwise than
as the former often includes the latter; ease from misery
occasioning for some time the greatest positive enjoynent.  This constitution of nature, namely, that it is so
ntmuch more in our power to occasion and likewise to
lessen misery, than to promote positive happiness, plainly
rleqaired a particular affection, to hinder us from abusing,
mand to incline us it.ake a right use of the former
lPowers1 i. e. the powers both to occasion and to lessen
misery; over and above what was necessary to induce
us to make a right use of the latter power, that of prolnoting positive happiness.  The power we have over
the misery of our fellow creatures, to occasion or lessen
it, being a more important trust than the power we have
of promoting their positive happiness; the former requires and has a further, an additional security and
guard against its being violated, beyornd and over and
above what the latter has. The social nature of man,
and general good-will to his species, equally prevent him
frlom doing evil, incline him to relieve the distressed, and
r) promote the positive happiness of his fellow creatures:
lt compassion only restrains him from the first, and
-crries him to the second; it hath nothing to do with the
tliird.
The final causes then of compassion are to prevent
nid to relieve misery.
As to the former: this affection may plainly be a
restraint upon resentment, envy, unreasonable self-love;
that is, upon all the principles from which men do evil
to one another. Let us instance only in resentment.
It seldom happens, in regulated societies, that men have
an enemy so entirely in their ppwer, as to be able to
satiate their resentment with safety. But if we were to




76               UPON COMPASSION.            [s9u. VL
put this case, it is plainly supposable, that a persol might
bring his enelny into such a condition, as from being the
object of anger and rage, to become an object of compassion, even to himself, though the most malicious mall
in the world: and in this case compassion would stop
him, if he could stop with safety, from pursuing his revenge any further. But since nature has placed within
us more powerful restraints to prevent mischief, and
since the final cause of compassion is much more to
relieve misery, let us go on to the consideration of it in
this view.
As this world was not intended to be a state of any
great satisfaction or high enjoyment; so neither was it
intended to be a mere scene of unhappiness and sorrow.
Mitigations and reliefs are provided by the merciful
Author of nature, for most of the afflictions in human
life. There is kind provision made evcn against oulr
frailties; as we are so constituted, that time abundantly
abates our sorrows, and begets in us that resignment of
temper, which ought to have been produced by a better
cause; a due sense of the authority of God, and our state
of dependence.  T'his holds in respect to far the greatest
part of the evils of life,; I suppose, in some degree as to
pain and sickness.  Now this part of the constitution or
make of man, considered as some relief to misery, and
not as provision for positive happiness, is, if I- may so
speak, an instance of nature's compassion for us: and
every natural remedy or relief to misery may be considered in the same view.
But since in many cases it is very much in our power
to alleviate the miseries of each other; and benevolence,
though natural in man to man, yet is in a very low degree
kept down by interest and competitions; and men, for
the most part, are so engaged in the business and
pleasures of the world, as to overlook and turn away
from objects of misery; which are plainly considered as
interruptions to them in their way, as intruders upon
their business, their gaiety and mirth; compassion is an
advocate within us in their behalf, to gain the unhappy
admittance and access, to make their case attended to
If it sometimes serves a contrary purpose, and makes




SIR. V!.]        UPON COMPASSION.                77
men industriously turn away from the miserable, these
are only instances of abuse and perversion: for the end,
for which the affection was given us, most certainly is not
to make us avoid, but to make us attend to, the objects
of it. And if men would only resolve to allow thus much
to it; let it bring before their view, the view of their
mind, the miseries of their fellow creatures; let it gain
for them that their case be considered; I am persuaded
it would not fail of gaining more, and that very few real
objects of charity would pass unrelieved. Pain and
sorrow and misery have a right to our assistance: compassion puts us in mind of the debt, and that we owe it
to ourselves as well as to the distressed.  For, to endeavour to get rid of the sorrow of compassion by turning
from the wretched, when yet it is in our power to relieve
them, is as unnatural, as to endeavour to get rid of the
pain of hunger by keeping from the sight of food. That
we can do one with greater success than we can the
other, is no proof that one is less a violation of nature
than the other. Compassion is a call, a demand of nature, to relieve the unhappy; as hunger is a natural call
for food.  This affection plainly gives the objects of it
an additional claim to relief and mercy, over and above
what our fellow creatures in common have to our good-will.
Liberality and bounty are exceedingly commendable; and
a particular distinction in such a world as this, where men
set themselves to contract their heart, and close it to all
interests but their own. It is by no means to be opposed
to mercy, but always accompanies it: the distinction
between them is only, that the former leads our thoughts
to a more promiscuous and undistinguished distribution
of favours; to those who are not, as well as those who
are necessitous; whereas the object of compassion is
misery. But in the comparison, and where there is not
a possibility cf both, mercy is to have the preference:
the affection of compassion manifestly leads us to this
preference. Thus, to relieve the indigent and distressed,
to single out the unhappy, frown whom can be expected
no returns either of present entertainment or future service, for the objects of our f:azvours; to esteem a man',
being friendless as a recomnm2,endation; dejection, and




78              UPON COMPASSION.            [I v
incapacity of struggling through the world, as a motive
for assisting him; in a word, to consider these circumstances of disadvantage, which are usually thought a
sufficient reason for neglect and overlooking a person,
as a motive for helping him forward: this is the course
of benevolence which compassion marks out and
directs us to: this is that humanity, which is so peculiarly becoming our nature and circumstances in this
world.
To these considerations, drawn from the nature ol
man, must be added the reason of the thing itself we are
recommending, which accords to and shows the same.
For since it is so much more in our power to lessen the
misery of our fellow creatures, than to promote their
positive happiness; in cases where there is an inconsistency, we shall be likely to do much more good by setting
ourselves to mitigate the former, than by endeavouring
to promote the latter.  Let the competition be between
the poor and the rich.  It is easy, you will say, to see
which will have the preference. True: but the question
is, which ought to have the preference? What proportion is there between the happiness produced by doing a
favour to the indigent, and that produced by doing the
same favour to one in easy circumstances? It is manifest, that the addition of a very large estate to one who
before had an affluence, will in many instances yield
him less new enjoyment or satisfaction, than an ordinary
charity would yield to a necessitous person. So that it
is not only true, that our nature, i. e. the voice of God
within us, carries us to the exercise of charity and benevolence in the way of compassion or mercy, preferably
to any other way; but we also manifestly discern much
more good done by the former; or, if you will allow me
the expressions, more misery annihilated, and happiness
created. If charity and benevolence, and endeavouring to
do good to our fellow creatures, be any thing, this observation deserves to be most seriously considered by all
who have to bestow. And it holds with great exactness,
when applied to the several degret s of greater and less
indigency throughout the various ranks in human life:
the happiness or good produced not being in proportion




8 is ~{]          UPON COMPASSION.                  as
t," wvhat is bestowed, but in proportion to this joined with
t1,,ie Ieed there was of it.
It may perhaps be expected, that upon this subject
)tfice should be taken of occasions, circumstances, and
h ltracters, which seem at once to call forth affections of,iifferent sorts. Thus vice may be thought the object
)both of pity and indignation: folly, of pity and of laughter.
Ilow far this is strictly true, I shall not inquire; but only
observe upon the appearance, how much more humane
it is to yield and give scope to affections, which are most
directly in favour of, and friendly towards, our fellow
creatures; and that there is plainly much less danger of
being led wrong by these, than by the other.
But, notwithstanding all that has been said in recommendation of compassion, that it is most amiable, most
becoming human nature, and most useful to the world;
yet it must be owned, that every affection, as distinct
from a principle of reason, may rise too high, and be
beyond its just proportion. And by means of this one
carried too far, a man throughout his life is subject to
much more uneasiness than belongs to his share: and in
particular instances, it may be in such a degree as to
incapacitate him  from  assisting the very person who is
the object of it. But as there are some who upon principle set up for suppressing this affection itself' as weakness, there is also I know not what of fashion on this
side; and, by some means or other, the whole world
almost is run into the extremes of insensibility towards
the distresses of their fellow creatures: so that general
rules and exhortations must always be on the other side.
And now to go on to the uses we should make of the
foregoing reflections, the further ones they lead to, and
the general temper they have a tendency to beget in us.
There being that distinct affection implanted in the nature of man, tending to lessen the miseries of life, that
particular provision made for abating its sorrows, more
than for increasing its positive happiness, as before explained; this may suggest to us what should be our general aim respecting ourselves, in our passage through this
world: namely, to endeavour chiefly to escape misery,
keep free from  uneasiness, pain, and sorrow, or to get




80              UPON COMPASSION.            [Sza. VI
relief and mitigation of them; to propose to ourselves
peace and tranquillity of mind, rather than pursue after
high enjoyments. This is what the constitution of nature
before explained marks out as the course we should follow, and the end we should aim at. To make pleasure
and mirth and jollity our business, and be constantly hurrying about after some gay amusement, some new gratification of sense or appetite, to those who will consider the
nature of man and our condition in this world, will appear
the most romantic scheme of life that ever entered into
thought. And yet how many are there who go on in
this course, without learning better from the daily, the
hourly disappointments, listlessness, and satiety, which
accompany this fashionable method of wasting away their
days!
The subject we have been insisting upon would lead
us into the same kind of reflections, by a different connexion. The miseries of life brought home to ourselves
by compassion, viewed through this affection considered
as the sense by which they are perceived, would beget
in us that moderation, humility, and soberness of mind,
which has been now recommended; and which peculiarly
belongs to a season of recollection, the only purpose oi
which is to bring us to a just sense of things, to recover
us out of that forgetfulness of ourselves, and our true
state, which it is manifest far the greatest part of men
pass their whole life in. Upon this account Solomon
says, that it is better to go to the house of mourning, than
to go to the house of fasting; i. e. it is more to a man's
advantage to turn his eyes towards objects of distress, to
recall sometimes to his remembrance the occasions of
sorrow, than to pass all his days in thoughtless mirth
and gaiety. And he represents the wise as choosing to
frequent the former of these places; to be sure not for
its own sake, but because by the sadness of the countenance the heart is made better. Every one observes how
temperate and reasonable men are when humbled and
brought low by afflictions, in comparison of what they
are in high prosperity. By this voluntary resort to the
house of mourning, which is here recommended, we
might learn all those useful instructions which calamities




S. VI.;         UPON COMPASSION.                 81
teach, without undergoing them ourselves; and grow
wiser and better at a more easy rate than men commonly do. The objects themselves, which in that place
of sorrow lie before our view, naturally give us a seriousness and attention, check that wantonness which is
the growth of prosperity and ease, and lead us to reflect
upon the deficiencies of human life itself; that every man,
at his best estate, is altogether vanity. This would correct
the florid and gaudy prospects and expectations which
we are too apt to indulge, teach us to lower our notions
of happiness and enjoyment, bring them  down to the
reality of things, to what is attainable, to what the frailty
of our condition will admit of, which, for any continuance, is only tranquillity, ease, and moderate satisfactions. Thus we might at once become proof against the
temptations with which the whole world almost is carried
away; since it is plain, that not only what is called a life of
pleasure, but also vicious pursuits in general, aim at some.
what besides and beyond these moderate satisfactions.
And as to that obstinacy and wilfulness, which renders
men so insensible to the motives of religion; this right
sense of ourselves and of the world about us would bend
the stubborn mind, soften the heart, and make it more
apt to receive impression: and this is the proper temper
in which to call our ways to remembrance, to review and
set home upon ourselves the miscarriages of our past
life. In such a compliant state of mind, reason and
conscience will have a fair hearing; which is the preparation for, or rather the beginning of, that repentance,
the outward show of which we all put on at this season.
Lastly, The various miseries of life which lie before us
wherever we turn our eyes, the frailty of this mortal state
awe are passing through, may put us in mind that the
present world is not our home; that we are merely
strangers and travellers in it, as all our fathers were.
It is therefore to be considered as a foreign country; in
which our poverty and wants, and the insufficient supplies of them, were designed to turn our views to that
higher and better state we are heirs to: a state where
wvill be no folli&s to be overlooked, no miseries to be
pitied, no wants to be relieved; where the affection we
F




82              UPON THE CHARACTER             [s8. VIn
have been now treating of will happily be lost, as there
will be no objects to exercise it upon: for God shall wipe
away all tears from their eyes, and there shall be no more
death, neither sorrow, nor cryiltg: neither shall there be
any more vain; for the former things are passed away.
SERMON VII.
UPON THE CHARACTER OF BALAAM.
PREACHED THE SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EASTER.
Let me die the death of the riqhteous, and let my last end be like his.
Numb. xxiii. 10.
THEsE words, taken alone, and without respect to him
who spoke them, lead our thoughts immediately to the
different ends of good and bad men. For though the
comparison is not expressed, yet it is manifestly implied;
as is also the preference of one of these characters to
the other in that last circumstance, death. And, since
dying the death of the righteous or of the wicked necessarily implies men's being righteous or wicked, i. e.
having lived righteously or wickedly; a comparison of
them in their lives also might come into consideration,
from such a single view of the words themselves. But
my present design is to consider them with a particular
reference or respect to him who spoke them; which,reference, if you please to attend, you will see. And it
what shall be offered to your consideration at this time
qbe thought a discourse upon the whole history of this
-man, rather than upon the particular words I have read;,this is of no consequence; it is sufficient, if it afford re.
flection of use and service to ourselves.
But, in order to avoid cavils respecting this remarkaI!.
relation in Scripture, either that part of it which you
have heard in the first lesson for the day, or any others;
let me just observe, that as this is not a place for an.
swering them, so they no way affect the following discourse; since the character there given is plainly a real
one in life, and such as there are parallels to.




ha. VII.]           OF BALAAM.                   83
The occasion of Balaam's coming out of his own
country into the land of Moab, where he pronounced
this solemn prayer or wish, he himself relates in the
first parable or prophetic speech, of which it is the conclusion. In which is a custom referred to, proper to be
taken notice of: that of devoting enemies to destruction,
before the entrance upon a war with them. This custom
appears to have prevailed over a great part of the world;
for we find it amongst the most distant nations. The
Romans had public officers, to whom it belonged as a
stated part of their office. But there was somewhat
more particular in the case now before us; Balaam
being looked upon as an extraordinary person, whose
blessing or curse was thought to be always effectual.
In order to engage the reader's attention to this passage, the sacred historian has enumerated the preparatory
circumstances, which are these. Balaam requires the
king of Moab to build him seven altars, and to prepare
him the same number of oxen and of rams. The sacrifice being over, he retires alone to a solitude sacred to
these occasions, there to wait the divine inspiration or
answer, for which the foregoing rites were the preparation. And God met Balaam, and put a word in his
mouth;* upon receiving which, he returns back to the
altars, where was the king, who had all this while attended the sacrifice, as appointed; he and all the princes
of Moab standing, big with expectation of the prophet's
reply. And he took up his parable, and said, Balak the
king of Moab hath brought me from Aram, out of the
mountains of the east, saying, Come, curse me Jacob, and
come, defy Israel. How shall I curse, whom God hath not
cursed? Or how shall I defy, whom the Lord hath not
defied? For from the top of the rocks I see him, and from
the hills I behold him: lo, the people shall dwell alone, and
shall not be reckoned among the nations. Who can count
the dust of Jacob, and the number of the fourth part of
Israel?  Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my
last end be like his.t
It is necessary, as you will see in the progress of this
discourse, particularly to observe what he understood
* Yer. 4, 5.             Yer. 6
F2




84             IJUPDN THE CHARACTER          rn. VIL
by righteous.  And he himself is introduced in the
book of Micah' explaining it; if by righteous is meant
good, as to be sure it is. 0 my people, remember noie
what Balak king of Moab consulted, and what Balaam
the son of Beor answered him from Shittim unto Gilgal.
From the mention of Shittim, it is manifest, that it is
this very story which is here referred to, though another
part of it, the account of which is not now extant; as
there are many quotations in Scripture out of books
which are not come down to us. Remember what Balaanm
answered, that ye may know the righteousness of the Lord;
i. e. the righteousness which God will accept. Balak
demands, Wherewith shall I come before the Lord, and
bow myself before the high God?  Shall I come before himi
with burnt-offerings, with calves of a year old?  Will the
Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, or with ten thousands of rivers of oil?  Shall I give my first-born for ae y
transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul/.
Balaaml answers him, He hath showed thee, 0 man, wht
is good: and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do
justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbley with thy
God? Here is a good man expressly characterized, as
distinct from a dishonest and a superstitious man.  No
words can more strongly exclude dishonesty and falseness of heart, than doing justice, and loving mercy: and
both these, as well as walking humbly with God, are put
in opposition to those ceremonial methods of recommendation, which Balak hoped might have served the
turn. From hence appears what he meant by the
righteous whose death he desires to die.
Whether it was his own character shall now be inquired: and in order to determine it, we must take a
view of his whole behaviour upon this occasion. When
the elders of Moab came to him, though he appears to
have been much allured with the rewards offered, yet he
had such regard to the authority of God, as to keep the
messengers in suspense until he had consulted his will.
And God said to him, Thou shalt not go with them., thou
shalt not curse the people, for they are blessed.t Upon
this he dismisses the ambassadors, with an absolute re* Micah vi.  t' Chap. xxUl. 12.




am. VII.]           OF BALAAM.                   85
fusal of accompanying them back to their king. Thus
far his regards to duty prevailed, neither does there any
thing appear as yet amiss in his conduct. His answer
being reported to the king of Moab, a more honourable
embassy is immediately despatched, and greater rewards
proposed. Then the iniquity of his heart began to disclose itself. A thorough honest man would without
hesitation have repeated his former answer, that he could
not be guilty of so infamous a prostitution of the sacred
character with which he was invested, as in the name of
a prophet to curse those whom he knew to be blessed.
But instead of this, which was the only honest part in
these circumstances that lay before him, he desires the
princes of Moab to tarry that night with him also; and for
the sake of the reward deliberates, whether by some
means or other he might not be able to obtain leave to
curse Israel; to do that, which had been before revealed
to him to be contrary to the will of God, which yet he
resolves not to do without that permission.  Upon
which, as when this nation afterward rejected God from
reigning over them, he gave them a king in his anger;
in the same way, as appears from other parts of the narration, he gives Balaam the permission he desired: for
this is the most natural sense of the words. Arriving
in the territories of Moab, and being received with particular distinction by the king, and he repeating in person
the promise of the rewards he had before made to him
by his ambassadors: he seeks, the text says, by sacrifices
and enchantments (what these were is not to our purpose),
to obtain leave of God to curse the people; keeping still
his resolution, not to do it without that permission:
which not being able to obtain, he had such regard to
the command of God, as to keep this resolution to the
last. The supposition of his being under a supernatural
restraint is a mere fiction of Philo: he is plainly represented to be under no other force or restraint, than the
fear of God. However, he goes on persevering in that
endeavour, after he had declared, that God had not be.
held iniquity in Jacob, neither had he seen perverseness in
Isrwal;' i. e. they were a people of virtue and piety, so
* Ver. 21.




86              UPON THE CHARACTER            Tam. rI
far as not to have drawn down, by their iniquity, that
curse which he was soliciting leave to pronounce upon
them. So that the state of Balaam's mind was this: he
wanted to do what'he knew to be very wicked, and contrary to the express command of God; he had inward
checks and restraints, which he could not entirely get
over; he therefore casts about for ways to reconcile this
wickedness with his duty. How great a paradox soever
this may appear, as it is indeed a contradiction in terms,
it is the veryl account which the scripture gives us of him.
But there is a lnore surprising piece of iniquity yet beIhind. Not daring in his religious character, as a prophet,
to assist the kingrl of Moab, he considers whether there
might not be ftound some other means of assisting him~
against that very people, whom he himself by the fear of
God was restrained from cursing in words.  One would
not think it possible, that the weakness, even of religious
self-deceit in its utmost excess, could have so poor a
distinction, so fond an evasion, to serve itself of.  Bu.t
so it was: and he could think of no other method, thl-haul
to betray the children of Israel to provoke his wralttl,
who was their only strength and defence.  The temptiation which he pitched upon, was that concerning whic l
Solomon afterward observed, that it had cast down mcmi/
wounded; yea, many strong men had been slain by it: and
of which he himself was a sad example, when his wives
turned away his heart after other gods. This succeeded:
the people sin against God; and thus the prophet's
counsl 1 brought on that destruction, which he could by
no means be prevailed upon to assist with the religious
ceremony of execration, which the king of Moab thought
would itself have effected it.  Their crime and punishment are related in Deuteronomv,* and Numbers.t And
from the relation repeated in Nulnbers,j it appears, that
Balaam was the contriver of the whole matter. It is
also ascribed to him in the Revelation,~ where he is said
to have taught Biaak to crst a stumbling-block before tMe
children of Israel.
This was the man, this Balaam, I say, was the man
who desired to die the death of the righteous, and that hu.
~ Chap. iv.   jMp. xxv ~  Chap. xxxi.   ~ Chap. ii.




711v.1             OF BALAAM.                  87
last end might be like his: and this was the state of his
mind, when he pronounced these words.
So that the object we have now before us is the most
astonishing. in the world: a very wicked man, under a
deep sense of God and religion, persisting still in his
wickedness, and preferring the wages of unrighteousness,
even when he had before him a lively view of death, and
that approaching period of his days, which should deprive
him of all those advantages for which he was prostituting himself; and likewise a prospect, whether certain or
uncertain, of a future state of retribution: all this joined
with an explicit ardent wish, that, when he was to leave
this world, he might be in the condition of a righteous
man. Good God, what inconsistency, what perplexity
is here! With what different views of things, with what
contradictory principles of action, must such a mind be
torn and distracted! It was not unthinking carelessness,
by which he ran on headlong in vice and folly, without
ever making a stand to ask himself what he was doing:
no; lie acted upon the cool motives of interest and advantage.  Neither was lie totally hard and callous to
impressions of religion, what we call abandoned; for he
absolutely denied to curse Israel. When reason assumes
her place, when convinced of his duty, when he owns
and feels, and is actually under the influence of the divine
authority; whilst he is carrying on his views to the grave,
the end of all temporal greatness; under this sense of
things, with the better character and more desirable state
present-full before him- in his thoughts, in his wishes,
voluntarily to choose the worse-what fatality is here!
Or how otherwise can such a character be explained?
And yet strange as it may appear, it is not altogether an
uncommon one: nay, with some small alterations, and
put a little lower, it is applicable to a very considerable
part of the world.  For if the reasonable choice be seen
and acknowledged, and yet men make the unreasonable
one, is not this the same contradiction; that very inconsistency, which appeared so unaccountable?
To give some little opening to such characters and
behaviour, it is to be observed in general, that there is
no account to be given in the way of reason, of men's so




88             UPON THE CHARACTER            [SM. VII
strong attachments to the present world: our hopes and
fears and pursuits are in degrees beyond all proportion
to the known value of the things they respect. This
may be said without taking into consideration religion
and a future state; and when these are considered, the
disproportion is infinitely heightened. Now when men
go against their reason, and contradict a more important
interest at a distance, for one nearer, though of less consideration; if this be the whole of the case, all that can
be said is, that strong passions, some kind of brute force
within, prevails over the principle of rationality. However, if this be with a clear, full, and distinct view of the
truth of things, then it is doing the utmost violence to
themselves, acting in the most palpable contradiction to'their very nature. But if there be any such thing in
mankind as putting half-deceits upon themselves; which
there plainly is, either by avoiding reflection, or (if they
do reflect) by religious equivocation, subterfiges, and
palliating matters to themselves; by these means conscience may be laid asleep, and they may go on in a
course of wickedness with less disturbance. All the
various turns, doubles, and intricacies in a dishonest
heart, cannot be unfolded or laid open; but that there is
somewhat of that kind is manifest, be it to be called selfdeceit, or by any other name. Balaam had before his
eyes the authority of God, absolutely forbidding him
what he, for the sake of a reward, had the strongest inclination to: he was likewise in a state of mind sober
enough to consider death and his last end: by these
considerations he was restrained, first from going to the
king of Moab; and after he did go, from cursing Israel.
But notwithstanding this, there was great wickedness in
his heart. He could not forego the rewards of unrighteousness: he therefore first seeks for indulgences; and
when these could not be obtained, he sins against the
whole meaning, end, and design of the prohibition,
which no consideration in the world could prevail with
him to go against the letter of. And surely that impious
counsel he gave to Balak against the children of Israel,
was, considered in itself; a greater piece of wickedness,
than if he had cursed them in words.




mX. VII.]           OF BALAAM.                   89
If it be inquired what his situation, his hopes, and fears
were, in respect to this his wish; the answer must be,
that consciousness of the wickedness of his heart must
necessarily have destroyed all settled hopes of dying the
death of the righteous: he could have no calm satisfaction
in this view of his last end: yet, on the other hand, it is
possible that those partial regards to his duty, now mentioned, might keep him from perfect despair.
Upon the whole, it is manifest, that Balaam had the
most just and true notions of God and religion; as appears, partly from the original story itself, and more
plainly from the passage in Micah; where he explains
religion to consist in real virtue and real piety, expressly
distinguished from superstition, and in terms which most
strongly exclude dishonesty and falseness of heart. Yet
you see his behaviour: he seeks indulgences for plain
wickedness; which not being able to obtain, he glosses
over the same wickedness, dresses it up in a new form,
In order to make it pass off more easily with himself.'hIlat is, he deliberately contrives to deceive and impose
u,lon himself, in a matter which he knew to be of the
utmost importance.
1To bring these observations home to ourselves: it is
too evident, that many persons allow themselves in very
unjustifiable courses, who yet make great pretences to
r-eligion; not to deceive the world, none can be so weak
as to think this will pass in our age; but from principles,
hopes, and fears, respecting God and a future state; and
go on thus with a sort of tranquillity and quiet of mind.
['his cannot be upon a thorough consideration, and full
resolution, that the pleasures and advantages they propose are to be pursued at all hazards, against reason,
against the law of God, and though everlasting destruction is to be the consequence. This would be doing too
great violence upon themselves. No, they are for making a composition with the Almighty. These of his
commands they will obey: but as to others-why they
will make all the atonements in their power; the ambitiOLs, the covetous, the dissolute man, each in a way
which shall not contradict his respective pursuit. Indulgences before, which was Balaam's fir




90             UPON THE CHARACTER          ([g Vn
though he was not so successful in it as to deceive him.
self, or atonements afterwards, are all the same. And
here perhaps come in faint hopes that they may, and
half-resolves that they will, one time or other, make
a change.
Besides these, there are also persons, who, from a
more just way of. considering things, see the infinite
absurdity of this, of substituting sacrifice instead of
obedience; there are persons far enough from superstition, and not without some real sense of God and
religion upon their minds; who yet are guilty of most
unjustifiable practices, and go on with great coolness and
command over themselves. The same dishonesty and
unsoundness of heart discovers itself in these another
way. In all common ordinary cases we see intuitively
at first view what is our duty, what is the honest part.
This is the ground of the observation, that the first
thought is often the best.  In these cases doubt and
deliberation is itself dishonesty; as it was in Balaarn
upon the second message. That which is called considering what is our duty in a particular case, is very
often nothing but endeavouring to explain it away.
Thus those courses, which, if men would fairly attend to
the dictates of their own consciences, they would see to
be corruption, excess, oppression, uncharitableness;
these are refined upon-things were so and so circumstantiated — great difficulties are raised about fixing
bounds and degrees: and thus every moral obligation
whatever may be evaded. Here is scope, I say, for an
unfair mind to explain away every moral obligation to
itself.  Whether men reflect again upon this internal
management and artifice, and how explicit they are with
themselves, is another question. There are many operations of the mind, many things pass within, which we
never reflect upon again; which a bystander, from having frequent opportunities of observing us and our conduct, may make shrewd guesses at.
That great numbers are in this way of deceiving them.
selves is certain. There is scarce a man in the world,
who has entirely got over all regards, hopes, and fears,
concerning God and a future state; and these apprehend




. 1.]J              OP BALAAM.                  9]
siolis ill the generality, bad as we are, prevail in considerable degrees: yet men will and can be wicked, with
calmness and thought; we see they are. There must
therefore be some method of making it sit a little easy
upon their minds; which, in the superstitious, is those
indulgences and atonements before mentioned, and this
self-deceit of another kind in persons of another character. And both these proceed from a certain unfairness
of mind, a peculiar inward dishonesty; the direct contrary to that simplicity which our Saviour recommends,
under the notion of becoming little children, as a necessary qualification for our entering into the kingdom of
heaven.
But to conclude: How much soever men differ in the
course of life they prefer, and in their ways of palliating
and excusing their vices to themselves; yet all agree in
the one thing, desiring to die the death of the righteous.
This is surely remarkable. The observation may be extended further, and put thus: Even without determining
what that is which we call guilt or innocence, there is no
man but would choose, after having had the pleasure or
advantage of a vicious action, to be free of the guilt of
it, to be in the state of an innocent man. This shows at
least the disturbance and implicit dissatisfaction in vice.
If we inquire into the grounds of it, we shall find it proceeds partly from an immediate sense of having done
evil, and partly from an apprehension, that this inward
sense shall one time or another be seconded by a higher
judgment, upon which our whole being depends. Now
to suspend and drown this sense, and these apprehensions, be it by the hurry of business or' of pleasure, or by
superstition, or moral equivocations, this is in a manner
one and the same, and makes no alteration at all in the
xnature of our case. Things and actions are what they
are, and the consequences of them will be what they will
be: why then should we desire to be deceived?  As we
are reasonable creatures, and have any regard to ourselves, we ought to lay these things plainly and honestly
before our mind, and upon this, act as you please, as you
think most fit; make that choice, and prefer that course
of life, which you can justify to yourselves, and which




92              UPON RESENTMENT              [ap. VIII
sits more easy upon your own mind.  It will immediately appear, that vice cannot be the happiness, but must
upon the whole be the misery, of such a creature as man;
a moral, an accountable agent. Superstitious observances, self-deceit, though of a more refined sort, will
not in reality at all mend matters with us. And the result of the whole can be nothing else, but that with simplicity and fairness we keep innocency, and take heed unto
the thing that is right; for this alone shall bring a man
peace at the last.
SERMON VIII.
UPON RESENTMENT.
Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour,
and hate thine enemy: but I say. unto you, Love your enemies,
bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray
for them which despitefully use you and persecute you.-Matth. v.
43, 44.
SINCE perfect goodness in the Deity is the principle
from whence the universe was brought into being, and
by which it is preserved; and since general benevolence
is the great law of the whole moral creation; it is a
question which immediately occurs, Why had man implanted in him a principle, which appears the direct contrary to benevolence? Now the foot upon which inquiries
of this kind should be treated is this: to take human nature as it is, and the circumstances in which it is placed
as they are; and then consider the correspondence between that nature and those circumstances, or what
course of action and behaviour, respecting those circumstances, any particular affection or passion leads us to.
This I mention to distinguish the matter now before us
from disquisitions of quite another kind; namely, Why
we are not made more perfect creatures, or placed in better
circumstances? these being questions which we have
not, that I know of, any thing at all to do with.  God
Almighty undoubtedly foresaw the disorders, both naturea




I.L VIII.]       UPON RESENTMENT.
and moral, which would happen in this state of things.
If upon this we set ourselves to search and examine why
he did not prevent them; we shall, I am afraid, be in
danger of running into somewhat worse than impertinent
curiosity. But upon this to examine how far the nature
which he hath given us hath a respect to those circumstances, such as they are; how far it leads us to act a
proper part in them; plainly belongs to us: and such
inquiries are in many ways of excellent use. Thus the
thing to be considered is, not, Why we were not made q/
such a nature, and placed in such circumstances, as to have
no need of so harsh and turbulent a passion as resentment:
but, taking our nature and condition as being what they
are, Why, or for what end such a passion was given uIs:
and this chiefly in order to show what are the.buses of it.
The persons who laid down for a rule, 7 )u shalt love
thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy, made short work
with this matter. They did not, it seems, perceive a!+y
thing to be disapproved in hatred, more than in, goodwill: and, according to their system of morals, our enemv
was the proper natural object of one of these passions, as
our neighbour was of the other of them.
This was all they had to say, and all they thought
needful to be said, upon the subject. But this cannot
be satisfactory; because hatred, malice, and revenge, are
directly contrary to the religion we profess, and to the
nature and reason of the thing itself. Therefore, since
no passion God hath endued us with can be in itself
evil; and yet since men frequently indulge a passion in
such ways and degrees that at length it becomes quite
another thing from what it was originally in our nature;
and those vices of malice and revenge in particular take
their occasion from the natural passion of resentment:
it will be needful to trace this up to its original, that we
may see what it is in itself, as placed in our nature by its
Author; from which it will plainly appear, for what ends
it was placed there. And when we know what the passion is in itself, and the ends of it, we shall easily see,
what are the abuses of it, in which malice and revenge consdst; and which are so strongly forbidden in the text, by
the direct contrary being commanded.




94               UPON RESENTMENT.             [l. Vt
Resentment is of two kinds: hasty and sudden, or
settled and deliberate. The former is called anger, and
often passion; which, though a general word, is frequently appropriated and confined to the particular feeling, sudden anger, as distinct from deliberate resentment,
malice, and revenge. In all these words is usually implied somewhat vicious; somewhat unreasonable as to
the occasion of the passion, or immoderate as to the degree or duration of it. But that the natural passion itself
is indifferent, St Paul has asserted in that precept, Be ye,tangry, and sin not:* which though it is by no means to
K)t> understood as an encouragement to indulge ourselves
in anger, the sense being certainly this, Though ye be angry,.sin not; yet here is evidently a distinction made between
aniger and sin; between the natural passion, and sin ful anger.
Sudden anger, upon certain occasions, is mere instinct:
as merely so, as the disposition to close our eyes upon
the2 apprehension of somewhat falling into them; and no
riore necessarily implies any degree of reason.  I say,
necessarily: for to be sure hasty, as well as deliberate,
anger may be occasioned by injury or contempt; in which
cases reason suggests to our thoulilts that injury and contempt, which is the occasion of the passion: but I am
speaking of the former only so fhr as it is to be distinguished from the latter. The only way in which our reason and
understanding can raise anger, is by representing to our
mind injustice or injury of some kind or other. Now momentary anger is frequently raised, not only without any
real, but without any apparent reason; that is, without
any appearance of injury, as distinct from hirt or pain.
It cannot, I suppose, be tho.ght, that this passion in
infants; in the lower species of animals; and  which is
often seen, in men towards them; it cannot; v say, be
imagined, that these instances of this passion are tllhe
effect of reason: no, they are occasioned by me-,~ sensation and feeling. It is opposition, sudden hurt, violence.
which naturally excites the passion; and the real dexmerit
or fault of him who offers that violence, or is the cause 31
that opposition or hurt, does not, in man-y cases, so muCai
as come into thought.
* Ephes. iv. 26




S.-VIII.]        UPON RESENTMENT.                95
The reason and end, for which man was made thus
liable to this passion, is, that he might be better qualified
to prevent, and likewise (or perhaps chiefly) to resist
and defeat, sudden force, violence, and opposition, considered merely as such, and without regard to the fault
or demerit of him who is the author of them. Yet, since
violence may be considered in this other and further
view, as implying fault; and since injury, as distinct from
harm, may raise sudden anger; sudden anger may likewise accidentally serve to prevent, or remedy, such fault
and injury. But, considered as distinct from settled
anger, it stands in our nature for self-defence, and not
for the administration of justice. There are plainly
cases, and in the uncultivated parts of the world, and,
where regular governments are not formed, they frequently happen, in which there is no time for consideration, and yet to be passive is certain destruction; in
which sudden resistance is the only security.
But from this, deliberate anlger or resentment is essenfially distinguished, as the latter is not naturally excited
by, or intended to prevent mere harm without appearance
of wrong or injustice.  Now, in order to see, as exactly
as we can, what is the natural object and occasion of
such resentment; let us reflect upon the manner in
which we are touched with reading, suppose, a feigned
story of baseness and villany, properly worked up to
move our passions. This immediately raises indignation,
somewhat of a desire that it should be punished. And
though the designed injury be prevented, yet that it was
designed is sufficient to raise this inward feeling.  Suppose the story true, this inward feeling would be as
natural and as just: and one may venture to affirm, that
there is scarce a man in the world, but would have it
upon some occasions. It seems in us plainly connected
with a sense of virtue and vice, of moral good and evil.
Suppose further, we knew both the person who did and
who suffered the injury: neither would this make any
alteration, only that it would probably affect us more.
The indignation raised by cruelty and injustice, and the
desire of having it punished, which persons unconcerned
would feel, is by no means malice. No, it is resentment




96              UPON RESENTMENT.           [PSERM n
against vice and wickedness: it is one of the common
bonds, by which society is held together; a fellow feeling,
which each individual has in behalf of the whole species,
as well as of himself.  And it does not appear that this,
generally speaking, is at all too high amongst mankind.
Suppose now the injury I have been speaking of to be
done against ourselves; or those whom we consider as
ourselves. It is plain, the way in which we should be
affected would be exactly the same in kind: but it would
certainly be in a higher degree, and less transient; because a sense of our own happiness and misery is most
intimately and always present to us; and from the very
constitution of our nature, we cannot but have a greater
sensibility to, and be more deeply interested in, what
concerns ourselves. And this seems to be the whole of
this passion, which is, properly speaking, natural to
mankind: namely, a resentment against injury and
wickedness in general; and in a higher degree when
towards ourselves, in proportion to the greater regard
which men naturally have for themselves, than for
others.  From hence it appears, that it is not natural,
but moral evil; it is not suffering, but injury, which
raises that anger or resentment, which is of any continuance. The natural object of it is not one, who
appears to the suffering person to have been only the
innocent occasion of his pain or loss; but one, who has
been in a moral sense injurious either to ourselves or
others. This is abundantly confirmed by observing what
it is which heightens or lessens resentment; namely, the
same which aggravates or lessens the fault: friendship,
and former obligations, on one hand; or inadvertency,
strong temptations, and mistake, on the other. All this
is so much understood by mankind, how little soever it
be reflected upon, that a person would be reckoned
quite distracted, who should coolly resent a harm, which
had not to himself the appearance of injury or wrong.
Men do indeed resent what is occasioned through carelessness: but then they expect observance as their due,
and so that carelessness is considered as faulty. It is
likewise true, that they resent more strongly an injury
done, than one which, though designed, was prevented,




SER. VIII       UPON RESENTMENT.                 97
in cases where the guilt is perhaps the same: the reason
however is, not that bare pain or loss raises resentment,
but, that it gives a new, and, as I may speak, additional
sense of the injury or injustice. According to the natural
course of the passions, the degrees of resentment are in
proportion, not only to the degree of design and deliberation in the injurious person; but in proportion to this,
joined with the degree of the evil designed or premeditated; since this likewise conres in to make the injustice
greater or less. And the evil or harm will appear greater
when they feel it, than when they only reflect upon it: so
therefore will the injury: and consequently the resentment will be greater.
The natural object or occasion of settled resentment
then being injury, as distinct from pain or loss; it is easy
to see, that to prevent and to remedy such injury, and the
miseries arising from it, is the end for which this passion
was implanted in man. It is to be considered as a
weapon, put into our hands by nature, against injury,
injustice, and cruelty: how it may be innocently employed and made use of; shall presently be mentioned.
The account which has been now given of this passion
is, in brief, that sudden anger is raised by, and was
chiefly intended to prevent or remedy, mere harm distinct
from injury; but that it may be raised by injury, and may
serve to prevent or to remedy it; and then the occasions
and effects of it are the same with the occasions and
effects of deliberate anger.  But they are essentially distinguished in this, that the latter is never occasioned by
harm, distinct from injury; and its natural proper end is
to remedy or prevent only that harm, which implies, or
is supposed to imply, injury or moral wrong. Every
one sees that these observations do not relate to those,
who have habitually suppressed the course of their
passions and affections, out of regard either to interest
or virtue; or who, from habits of vice and folly, have
changed their nature.  But, I suppose, there can be no
doubt but this, now described, is the general course of
resentment, cotlsidered as a natural passion, neither ihcreased by indulgence, nor corrected by virtue, nor pre.
vailed over by other passions, or particular habits of life.
c




98                UFON RESLNTMENT.             [SEa. VIII
As to the abuses of anger, which it is to be observed
may be in all different degrees, the first.which occurs is
what is commonly called passion; to which some men
are liable, in the same way as others are to the epilepsy,
or any sudden particular disorder. This distemper cl
the mind seizes them upon the least occasion in the
world, and perpetually without any real reason at all:
and by means of it they are plainly, every day, every
waking hour of their lives, liable and in danger of running into the most extravagant outrages. Of a less
boisterous, but not of a less innocent kind, is peevishness;
which I mention with pity, with real pity to the unhappy
creatures, who, from their inferior station, or other circumstances and relations, are obliged to be in the way
of, and to serve for a supply to it.  Both these, for ought
that I can see, are one and the same principle: but as it
takes root in minds of different makes, it appears differently, and so is come to be distinguished by different
names. That which in a more feeble temper is peevishness, and languidly discharges itself upon every thirng
which comes in its way; the same principle in a temper
of greater force and stronger passions, becomes rage aind
fury. In one, the humour discharges itself at once; in
the other, it is continually discharging.  This is the
account of passion and peevishness, as distinct frem each
other, and appearing in different persons.  It is no objection against the truth of it, that they are both to be
seen sometimes in one and the same person.
With respect to deliberate resentment, the chief instances of abuse are: when, from partiality to ourselves,
we imagine an injury done us, when there is none: when
this partiality represents it to us greater than it really is:
when we fall into that extravagant and monstrous kind
of resentment, towards one who has innocently been the
occasion of evil to us; that is, resentment upon account
of pain or inconvenience, without injury; which is tile
same absurdity, as settled anger at a thing that is
inanimate: when the indignation against injury anl
injustice rises too high, and is beyond proportion to t~te
particular ill action it is exercised upon: or, lastly, when
pain or harm of any kind is inflicted merely itl conse^




Sm. VIIl.]      UPON RESENTMENT.               99
quence of, and to gratify, that resentment, though naturally raised.
It would be endless to descend into and explain all the
peculiarities of perverseness and wayward humour which
might be traced up to this passion. But there is one
thing, which so generally belongs to and accompanies all
excess and abuse of it, as to require being mentioned:
a certain determination, and resolute bent of mind not
to be convinced or set right; though it be ever so plain,
that there is no reason for the displeasure, that it was
raised merely by error or misunderstanding. In this
there is doubtless a great mixture of pride; but there is
somewhat more, which I cannot otherwise express, than
that resentment has taken possession of the temper and
of the mind, and will not quit its hold. It would be too
minute to inquire whether this be any thing more than
bare obstinacy: it is sufficient to observe, that it, in a
very particular manner and degree, belongs to the abuses
Df this passion.
But, notwithstanding all these abuses, "Is not just in.dignation against cruelty and wrong one of the instraments of death, which the Author of our nature hath provided?  Are not cruelty, injustice, and wrong, the
natural objects of that indignation?  Surely then it may
one way or other be innocently employed against them."
True. Since therefore it is necessary for the very subsistence of the world, that injury, injustice, and cruelty,
should be punished; and since compassion, which is so
nalural to mankind, would render that execution of justice exceedingly difficult and uneasy; indignation against
vice and wickedness is, and may be allowed to be, a
balance to that weakness of pity, and also to any thing
else which would prevent the necessary methods of severity. Those who have never thought upon these subjects, may perhaps not see the weight of this: but let us
suppose a person guilty of murder, or any other action
of cruelty, and that mankind had naturally no indiglnation against such wickedness and the authors of it; but
that every body was affected towards such a criminal in
the. same way as towards an innocent man: compassion,
amongst other things, would render the execution of jusG2




I()0             UPON RESENTMENT.            [SER. VIll
tice exceedingly painful and difficult, and would often
quite prevent it. And notwithstanding that the principle
of benevolence is denied by some and is really in a very
low degree, that men are in great measure insensible to
the happiness of their fellow creatures; yet they are not
insensible to their misery, but are very strongly moved
with it: insomuch that there plainly is occasion for that
feeling, which is raised by guilt and demerit, as a balance
to that of compassion. Thus much may, I think, justly
be allowed to resentment, in the strictest way of moral
consideration.
The good influence which this passion has in fact
upon the affairs of the world, is obvious to every one's
notice.  Men are plainly restrained from injuring their
fellow creatures by fear of their resentment; and it is
very happy that they are so, when they would not be
restrained by a principle of virtue. And after an injury
is done, and there is a necessity that the offender should
be brought to justice; the cool consideration of reason,
that the security and peace of society requires examples
of justice should be made, might indeed be sufficient to
procure laws to be enacted, and sentence passed: but is
it that cool reflection in the injured person, -which, for
the most part, brings the offender to justiceP  Or is it
not resentment and indignation against the injury and
the author of itP  I am afraid there is no doubt, which
is commonly the case. This however is to be considered
as a good effect, notwithstanding it were much to be
wished that men would act from a better principle, reasonl
and cool reflection.
The account now given of the passion of resentment,
as distinct from all the abuses of it, may suggest to our
thoughts the following reflections.
First, That vice is indeed of ill desert, and must finally
ie punished.  Why should men dispute concerning the
reality of virtue, and whether it be founded in the nature
of things, which yet surely is not matter of question;
out why should this, I sav, be disputed, when every man
carries about him this passion, which affords him demonstration, that the rules of justice and equity are to
be the guide of his actions P  For every man naturally




gm IX.J    UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES.         101
feels an indignration upon seeing instances of villanv and
baseness, and therefore cannot commit the same without
being self-condemned.
Secondly, That we should learn to be cautious, lest we
chlarge God foolishly, by ascribing that to him, or the
nature he has given us, which is owing wholly to our
own abuse of it.  Men may speak of the degeneracy and
corruption of the world, according to the experience they
have had of it; but human nature, considered as the divine workmanship, should methinks be treated as sacred:
for in the image of God made he man.  That passion,
from whence men take occasion to run into the dreadful
vices of malice and revenge; even that passion, as implanted in our nature by God, is not only innocent, but
a generous movement of mind. It is in itself, and in its
original, no more than indignation against injury and
wickedness: that which is the only deformity in the creation, and the only reasonable object of abhorrence and
dislike. How manifold evidence have we of the divine
wisdom and goodness, when even pain in the natural
world, and the passion we have been now considering in
the moral, come out instances of it!
SERMON IX.
UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES.
Ye have heard that it hath been said, Th7ou shalt love thy neilqhboul,
and hate thine enemy: but I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless
them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray Jbr
them which despitefully use you and persecute you.- Matt, v
43, 44.
As God Almighty foresaw the irregularities and disorders,
both natural and moral, which would happen in this
state of things; he hath graciously made some provision
against them, by giving us several passions and affections, which arise from, or whose objects are. those
disorders. Of this sort are fear, resentment, compassion,
and others; of which there could be no occasion or use




102       UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES.    [Sn. lt
in a perfect state: but in the present we should be exposed to greater inconveniences without them; though
there are very considerable ones, which they themselves
are the occasions of. They are encumbrances indeed,
but such as we are obliged to carry about with us, through
this various journey of life: some of them as a guar'd
against the violent assaults of others, and in our own defence; some in behalf of others; and all of them to put
us upon, and help to carry us through a course of behaviour suitable to our condition, in default of that perfection of wisdom and virtue, which would be in all respects
our better security.
The passion of anger or resentment hath already been
largely treated of. It hath been shown, that mankind
naturally feel some emotion of mind against injury and
injustice, whoever are the sufferers by it; and even
though the injurious design be prevented from taking
effect. Let this be called anger, indignation, resentment,
or by whatever name any one shall choose; the thing
itself is understood, and is plainly natural.  It has likewise been observed, that this natural indignation is generally moderate and low enough in mankind, in each
particular man, when the injury which excites it doth
not affect himself, or one whom he considers as himself.
Therefore the precepts to forgive, and to love our enemies,
do not relate to that general indignation against injury
and the authors of it, but to this feeling, or resentment
when raised by private or personal injury. But no man
could be thought in earnest, who should assert, that,
though indignation against injury, when others are the
sufferers, is innocent and just; yet the same indignation
against it, when we ourselves are the sufferers, becomes'faulty and blaimeable.  These precepts therefore cannot
be understood to forbid this in the latter case, more than
in the former. Nay they cannot be understood to forbid
this feeling in the latter case, though raised to a higher
degree than in the former: because, as was also observed
further, from the very constitution of our nature, we cannot but have a greater sensibility to what concerns ourselves. Therefore the precepts in the text, and others
of the like import with them, must be snderstood to for.




s. Ix.]    UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES.         103
bid onfy the excess and abuse of this natural feeling, in
cases of pcrsnal and private injury: the chief instances
of which excess and abuse have likewise been already
remarked; and dli of them, excepting that of retaliation,
do si( plainly in the very terms express somewhat unreasonable, dispropoxtionate, and absurd, as to admit of
no pretence or shadow of justification.
But since custom and false honour are on the side of
retaliation and revenge, when the resentment is natural
and just; and reasons are sometimes offered in justification of revenge in these cases; and since love of our
enemies is'thought too hard a saying to be obeyed: I will
show the absolute unlauwfulness of the former; the obligaItons we are under to the latter; and then proceed to some
rjclections, wbich may have a more direct and immediate
tendency to beget in tus a right temlJer of' mind towards
those who have offended us.
In showing the unlawfulness of revenge, it is not my
present design to examine what is alleged in favour of it,
from the tyranny of custom  and false honour, but only
to consider the nature and reason of the thing itself;
which ought to have prevented, and ought now to extiro
pate, every thing of that kind.
First, Let us begin with the supposition of that being
innocent, which is pleaded for, and which shall be shown
to be altogether vicious, the supposition that we were
allowed to render evil for evil, and see what would be
the consequence.  Malice or resentment towards any
man hath plainly a tendency to beget the same passion
in him who is the object of it; and this again increases
it in the other.  It is of the very nature of this vice to
propagate itself, not only by way of example, which it
does in common with other vices, but in a peculiar way
of its own; for resentment itself, as well as what is done
in consequence of it, is the object of resentment: hence
St comes to pass, that the first offence, even when so
slight as presently to be dropped and forgotten, becomes
the occasion of entering into a long intercourse of ill
offices: neither is it at all uncommon to see persons, in
this progress of strife and variance, change parts: and
him, twho was at first the injured person, become more




104       UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES.    [SdR. IX.
injurious and blameable than the aggressor..Fut the case
then, that the law of retaliation was universally received,
and allowed, as an innocent rule of life, by all; and the
observance of it thought by many (and then it would
soon come to be thought by all) a point of honour: this
supposes every man in private cases to pass sentence in
his own cause; and likewise, that anger or resentment
is to be the judge. Thus, from the numberless partialities which we all have for ourselves, every one would
often think himself injured when he was not: and in
most cases would represent an injury as much greater
than it really is; the imagined dignity of the person offended would scarce ever fail to magnify the offence.
And, if bare retaliation, or returning just the mischief
received, always begets resentment in the person upon
whom we retaliate, what would that excess do? Add' to
this, that he likewise has his partialities —there is no
going on to represent this scene of rage and madness:
it is manifest there would be no bounds, nor any end.
IJ' the beginning of strife is as when one letteth out water,
what would it come to when allowed this free and unrestrained course?  As coals are to burning coals, or wood
to fire; so would these contentious men be to kindle strift.
And, since the indulgence of revenge hath manifestly
this tendency, and does actually produce these effects in
proportion as it is allowed; a passion of so dangerous a
nature ought not to be indulged, were there no other
reason against it.
Secondly, It hath been shown that the passion of resentinent was placed in man, upon supposition of, and
-ls a prevention or remedy to, irregularity and disorder.
Now whether it be allowed or not, that the passion itself
and the gratification of it joined together are painful to
the malicious person; it must however be so with respect to the person towards whom it is exercised, and
upon whom the revenge is taken. Now, if we consider
mankind, according to that fine allusion of St Paul,
as one body, and every one members one of another; it
must be allowed that resentment is, with respect to
society, a painful remedy. Thus then the very notion
or idea of this passion, as a remedy or prevention of evil,




am. IX.]   UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES.         105
and as in itself a painful means, plainly shows that it
ought never to be made use of, but only in order to produce some greater good.
It is to be observed, that this argument is not founded
upon ar. allusion or simile; but that it is drawn from the
very nature of the passion itself, and the end for which
it was given us. We are obliged to make use of words
taken from sensible things, to explain what is the most
remote from them: and every one sees from whence the
words Prevention and Remedy are taken. But, if you
please, let these words be dropped: the thing itself, I
suppose, may be expressed without them.
That mankind is a community, that we all stand in a
relation to each other, that there is a public end and interest of society which each particular is obliged to promote, is the sum of morals. Consider then the passion
of resentment, as given to this one body, as given to s,)c:ietv. Nothing can be more manifest, than that resentment is to be considered as a secondary passion, placead
in us upon supposition, upon account of, and with regar(
to, injury; not, to be sure, to promote and further it, btit
to render it, and the inconveniences and miseries arisi1ng
from it, less and fewer than they would be without this
passion. It is as manifest, that the indulgence of it is, withl
cegard to society, a painful means of obtaining these ends.
Considered in itself, it is very undesirable, and what society must very much wish to be without. It is in every
instance absolutely an evil in itself, because it implies producing misery: and consequently must never be indulged
or gratified for itself, by any one who considers mankind
as a community or family, and himself as a member of it.
Let us now take this in another view. Every natural
appetite, passion, and affection, may be gratified in particular instances, without being subservient to the particular chief end, for which these several principles were
respectively implanted in our nature. And, if neither
this end, nor any other moral obligation, be contradicted,
such gratification is innocent. Thus, I suppose, there
are cases in which each of these principles, this one of
resentment excepted, may innocently be gratified, without being subservient to what is the main end of it: that




106        UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES..      -. IX.
is, though it does not conduce to, yet it may be gratified
without contradicting, that end, or any other obligation.
But the gratification of resentment, if it be not conducive
to the end for which it was given us, must necessarily
contradict, not only the general obligation to benevolence, but likewise that particular end itself. The end,
for which it was given, is to prevent or remedy injury,
i. e. the misery occasioned by injury; i. e. misery itself;
and the gratification of it consists in producing misery;
i. e. in contradicting the end for which it was implanted
in our nature.
This whole reasoning is built upon the difference there
is between this passion and all others. No other principle, or passion, hath for its end the misery of our fellow creatures.  But malice and revenge meditates evil
itself; and to do mischief, to be the author of misery,
is the very thing which gratifies the passion: this is what
it directly tends towards,' as its proper design.  Other
vices eventually do mischief: this alone aims at it as an
end.
Nothing can with reason be urged in justification of
revenge, from the good effects which the indulgence of
it were before mentioned  to have upon the affairs of
the world; because, though it be a remarkable instance
of the wisdom of Providence to bring good out of evil,
vet vice is vice to him who is guilty of it.  "But suppose these good effects are foreseen:" that is, suppose reason in a particular case leads a man the same
way as passion P Why then, to be sure, he should follow
his reason, in this as well as in all other cases. So that,
turn the matter which way ever you will, no more can be
allowed to this passion, than what hath been already.t
As to that love of our enemies, which is commanded;
this supposes the general obligation to benevolence or
good-will towards mankind: and this being supposed,
that precept is no more than to forgive injuries; that is,
to keep clear of those abuses before mentioned: because
that we have the habitual temper of benevolence is taken
for granted.
Resentment is not inconsistent with good-will; for we
* Sera.  VII,.    p.  100.  t Ibid  p. 99.




aEr. IX.]  UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES.         107
often see both together in very high degrees; not only
in parents towards their children, but in cases of
friendship and dependence, where there is no natural
relation.  These contrary passions, though they may
lessen, do not necessarily destroy each other.  We
may therefore love our enemy, and yet have resentment
against him for his injurious behaviour towards us. But
when this resentment entirely destroys our natural benevolence towards him, it is excessive, and becomes
malice or revenge. The command to prevent its having
this effect, i. e. to forgive injuries, is the same as to love
our enemies; because that love is always supposed, unless destroyed by resentment.
"But though mankind is the natural object of benevolence, yet may it not be lessened upon vice, i. e. injury?" Allowed: but if every degree of vice or injury
must destroy that benevolence, then no man is the object
of our love; for no man is without faults.
"But if lower instances of injury may lessen our
benevolence, why may not higher, or the highest, destroy
it P" The answer is obvious. It is not man's being a
social creature, much less his being a moral agent, firom
whence alone our obligations to good-will towards him
arise. There is an obligation to it prior to either of these,
arising from his being a sensible creature; that is, capable of happiness or misery. Now this obligation cannot be superseded by his moral character. What justifies public executions is, not that the guilt, or demerit of
the criminal dispenses with the obligation of good-will,
neither would this justify any severity; but, that his life
is inconsistent with the quiet and happiness of the world:
that is, a general and more enlarged obligation necessarily destroys a particular and more confined one of the
same kind inconsistent with it.  Guilt or injury then
does not dispense with or supersede the duty of love and
good-will.
Neither does that peculiar regard to ourselves, whiclh
was before allowed to be natural* to mankind, dispense
with it: because that can no way innocently heighten
our resentment against those who have been injurious
* Serm. VIII. P- 96.




108       UPON FORG1VENESS OF INJURIES.    [sa. IX
to ourselves in particular, any otherwise than as it
heightens our sense of the injury or guilt; and guilt,
though in the highest degree, does not, as hath been
shown, dispense with or supersede the duty of love and
good-will.
If all this be true, what can a man say, who will dispute the reasonableness, or the possibility, of obeying
the divine precept we are now considering P Let him
speak out, and it must be thus he will speak. " Mankind, i. e. a creature defective and faulty, is the proper
object of good-will, whatever his faults are, when they
respect others; but not when they respect me myself."
That men should be affected in this manher, and act accordingly, is to be accounted for like other vices; but
to assert that it ought, and must be thus, is self-partiality
possessed of the very understanding.
Thus love to our enemies, and those who have been
injurious to us, is so far from being a rant, as it has been
profanely called, that it is in truth the law of our nature,
and what every one must see and own, who is not quite
blinded with self-love.
From hence it is easy to see, what is the degree in
which we are commanded to love our enemies, or those
who have been injurious to us. It were well if it could
as easily be reduced to practice. It cannot be imagined,
that we are required to love them with any peculiar kind
of affection.  But suppose the person injured to have a
due natural sense of the injury, and no more; he ought
to be affected'towards the injurious person in the same
way any good men, uninterested in the case, would be;
if they had the same just sense, which we have supposed
the injured person to have, of the fault: after which there
will yet remain real good-will towards the offender.
Now what is there in all this, which should be
thought impracticable?  I am sure there is nothing in
it unreasonable. It is indeed no more than that we
should not indulge a passion, which, if generally indulged,
would propagate itself so as almost to lay waste the
world: that we should suppress that partial, that false
self-love, which is the weakness of our nature: that uneasiness and misery should not be produced, without ally




SmI. IX.]    UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES.      109
good purpose to be served by it: and that we should not
be affected towards persons differently from what their
nature and character require.
But sin-e to be convinced that any temper of mind,
and course of behaviour, is our duty, and the contrary
vicious, hath out a distant influence upon our temper
and actions; let me add some few reflections, which may
have a more direct tendency to subdue those vices in the
heart, to beget in us this right temper, and lead us to a
right behaviour towards those who have offended us:
which reflections however shall be such as will further
show the obligations we are under to it.
No one, I suppose, would choose to have an indignity
put upon him, or to be injuriously treated. If then there
be any probability of a misunderstanding in the case,
either from our imagining we are injured when we are
not, or representing the injury to ourselves as greater
than it really is; one would hope an intimation of this
sort might be kindly received, and that people would be
glad to find the injury not so great as they imagined.
Therefore, without knowing particulars, I take upon me
to assure all persons who think they have received indignities or injurious treatment, that they may depend
upon it, as in a manner certain, that the offence is not
so great as they themselves imagine. We are in such a
peculiar situation, with respect to injuries done to ourselves, that we can scarce any more see them as they
really are, than our eye can see itself. If we could place
ourselves at a due distance, i. e. be really unprejudiced,
we should frequently discern that to be in reality inadvertence and mistake in our enemy, which we now fancy
we see to be malice or scorn. From this proper point of
view, we should likewise in all probability see something
of these latter in ourselves, and most certainly a great
deal of the former. Thus the indignity or injury would
almost infinitely lessen, and perhaps at last come out to
be nothing at all. Self-love is a medium of a peculiar
kind; in these cases it magnifies every thing which is
amiss in others, at the same time that it lessens every
thing amiss in ourselves.
Anger also or hatred may be considered as another




110       UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES.    [a Mx
false medium of viewing things, which always represents
characters and actions much worse than they really are.
Ill-will not only never speaks, but never thinks well, of
the person towards whom it is exercised. Thus in cases
of offence and enmity, the whole character and behaviour
is considered with an eye to that particular part which
has offended us, and the whole man appears monstrous,
without any thing right or human in him: whereas the
resentment should surely at least be confined to that
particular part of the behaviour which gave offence:
since the other parts of a man's life and character stand
just the same as they did before.
In general, there are very few instances of enmity
carried to any length, but inadvertency, misunderstanding, some real mistake of the case, on one side however,
if not on both, has a great share in it.
If these things were attended to, these ill-humours
could not be carried to any length amongst good men,
and they would be exceedingly abated amongst all.
And one would hope they might be attended to: for all
that these cautions come to is really no more than desiring, that things may be considered and judged of as they
are in themselves, that we should have an eye to, and
beware of, what would otherwise lead us into mistakes.
So that to make allowances for inadvertence, misunderstanding, for the partialities of self-love, and the false
light which anger sets things in; I say, to make allowances for these, is not to be spoken of as an instance of
humbleness of mind, or meekness and moderation of
temper; but as what common sense should suggest, to
avoid judging wrong of a matter before us, though virtue
and morals were out of the case. And therefore it as
much belongs to ill men, who will indulge the vice I
have been arguing against, as to good men, who endeavour to subdue it in themselves. In a word, all these
cautions, concerning anger and self-love, are no more
than desiring a man, who was looking through a glass,
which either magnified or lessened, to take notice, that
the objects are not in themselves what they appear
through that medium.
To all these things one might add, that, resentment




SiR. IX.]    UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES.       ItI
being out of the case, there is not, properly speaking,
any such thing as direct ill-will in one man towards
another: therefore the first indignity or injury, if it be
not owing to inadvertence or misunderstanding, may
however be resolved into other particular passions or.elf-love: principles quite distinct from  ill-will, and
which we ought all to be disposed to excuse in others,
from experiencing so much of them in ourselves. A
great man of antiquity is reported to have said, that, as
he never was indulgent to any one fault in himself, he
could not excuse those of others. This sentence could
scarce with decency come out of the mouth of any human
creature. But if we invert the former part, and put it
thus: that he was indulgent to many faults in himself,
as it is to be feared the best of us are, and yet was implacable;: how monstrous would such an assertion appear!
And this is the case in respect to every human creature,
in proportion as he is without the forgiving spirit I have
been recommending.
Further, though injury, injustice, oppression, the baseness of ingratitude, are the natural objects of indignation,
or i' you please of resentment, as before explained; yet
thley are likewise the objects of compassion, as they are
their own punishment, and without repentance will for
ever be so. No one ever did a designed injury to another,
but at the same time he did a much greater to himself.
If therefore we would consider things justly, such a one
is, according to the natural course of our affections, an
object of compassion, as well as of displeasure: and to
be affected really in this manner, I say really, in opposition to show and pretence, argues the true greatness
of mind. We have an example of forgiveness in this
"vay in its utmost perfection, and which indeed includes
in it all that is good, in that prayer of our blessed Saviour
on the cross: Father, forgive them; for they know not
what they do.
But lastly, The offences which we are all guilty of
against God, and the injuries which men do to each other,
are often mentioned together: and, making allowances for
the infinite distance between the Majesty of Heaven, and
a frail mortal, and likewise for this, that he cannot pos



112       UPON FORGIVENESS OF INJURIES.    [Sen. IX.
sibly be affected or moved as we are; offences committed
by others against ourselves, and the manner in which we
are apt to be affected with them, give a real occasion for
calling to mind our own sins against God. Now there is an
apprehension and presentiment, natural to mankind, that
we ourselves shall one time or other be dealt with as w2
deal with others; and a peculiar acquiescence in, and
feeling of, the equity and justice of this equal distribution.
This natural notion of equity the son of Sirach has put
in the strongest way. He that revengeth shall find vengeance from the Lord, and he will surely keep his sins in
remembrance.  Forgive thy neighbour the hurt he hath done.
unto thee, so shall thy sins be forgiven when thou prayest.
One man beareth hatred against another; and doth he seek
pardon from the Lord?  He sheweth no mercy to a man
which is like himself; and doth he ask forgiveness of his
own sins?*  Let any one read our Saviour's parable of
the king who took accougnt of his servants;t and the equity
and rightness of the sentence which was passed upon
him who was unmerciful to his fellow servant, will be
felt. There is somewhat in human nature, which accords
to and falls in with that method of determination. Let
us then place before our eyes the time which is represented in the parable; that of our own death, or the final
judgment. Suppose yourselves under the apprehensions
of approaching death; that you were just going to appear
naked and without disguise before the Judge of all tll,
earth, to give an account of your behaviour towards yourl
felloW  creatures: could any thing raise more dreadful
apprehensions of that judgment, than the reflection that
you had been implacable, and without mercy towards
those who had offended you: without that forgiving
spirit towards others, which that it may now be exercised
towards yourselves, is your only hope.P And these
natural apprehensions are authorized by our Saviour's
application of the parable: So likewise shall my heavenly
Father do also unto you, if yefrom your hearts forgive not
every one his brother their trespasses. On the other hand,
suppose a good man in the same circumstance, in the
last part and close of life; conscious of many frailties,
* Ecclus. xxviii. ]-4.' Matt. xviii




8R-. X.)         UPON SELF-DECEIT.              113
as the best are, but conscious too that he had been
meek, forgiving, and merciful; that he had in simplicity
of heart been ready to pass over offences against himself: the having felt this good spirit will give him, not
only a full view of the amiableness of it, but the surest
hope that he shall meet with it in his Judge.  This likewise is confirmed by his own declaration: If ye forgive
men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will likewise
fbrgive you. And that we might have a constant sense
of it upon our mind, the condition is expressed in our
daily prayer. A forgiving spirit is therefore absolutely
necessary, as ever we hope for pardon of our own sins,
as ever we hope for peace of mind in our dying moments,- or for the divine mercy at that day when we
shall most stand in need of it.
SERMON X
UPON  SELF-DECEIT.
And Nathan said to David, Thou art tke man.-2 Sam. xii. 7
THESE words are the application of Nathan's parable to
David, upon occasion of his adultery with Bathsheba,
and the murder of Uriah her husband. The parable,
which is related in the most beautiful simplicity, is this:'There were two men in one city; the one rich and the
other poor.  The rich man had exceeding many flocks and
herds: but the poor man had nothing, save one little ewela(mb, which he had bought and nourished up: and it grew
up together with him, and with his children; it did eat' o
his own meat, and drank of his own cup, and lay in his
bosom, and was unto him as a daughter. And there came
a traveller unto the rich man, and he spared to take of his
own fiock, and of his own herd, to dress for the way-fitring
man that was come unto him, but took the poor man's lamb,
and'dressed it jbr the man that was come to him. And
David's anger was greatly kindled against the man, and he
* Ver. 1.
H




114              UPON SELF-DECEIT,.,.X 
said to Nathan, As the Lord liveth, the man that hath done
this thing shall surely die. And he shall restore the lamb
four-jbld, because he did this thing, and because he had no
pity. David passes sentence, not only that there should
be a fourfold restitution made; but he proceeds to the
rigour of justice, the man that hath done this thing shall
die: and this judgment is pronounced with the utmost
*ndignation against such an act of inhumanity; As the
Lord liveth, he shall surely die; and his anger was greatly
kindled against the man.  And the prophet answered,
Thou art the man.  He had been guilty of much greater
inhumanity, with the utmost deliberation, thought, and
contrivance.  Near a year must have passed, between
Miae time of the commission of his crimes, and the time
of the prophet's coming to him; and it does not appear
from the story, that he had in all this while the least remorse or contrition.
There is not any thing, relating to men and characters,
more surprising and unaccountable, than this partiality
to themselves, which is observable in many; as there is
nothing of more melancholy reflection, respecting morality, virtue, and religion. Hence it is that many men
seem  perfect strangers to their own characters.  They
think, and reason, and judge quite differently upon any
matter relating to themselves, from what they do in cases
of others where thev are not interested.  Hence it is one
hears people exposing follies, which they themselves are
eminent for; and talking with great severity against particular vices, which, if all the world be not mistaken,
they themselves are notoriously guilty of.  This selfignorance and self-partiality may be in all different degrees. It is a lower degree of it which David himself
refers to in these words, Who can tell how oft he offendeth?
0 cleanse thou me from  my secret faults.  This is the
ground of that advice of Elihu to Job: Surely it is meet,to be said unto God, —That which I see not, teach thou me;,if I have done iniquity, I will do no more. And Solomon,saw this thing in a very strong light, when he said, He
tlW  trusteth his own heart is a fool.  This likewise was
the reason why that precept, Know thyself, was so frequently inculcated by the philosophers of old. For if it




Sim. X.         UPON SELF-DECEI?.              f1i
were not for that partial and fond regard to ourselves, it
would certainly be no great difficulty to know our own
character, what passes within the bent and bias of our
mind; much less would there be any difficulty in judging
rightly of our own actions.  But from this partiality it;
frequently comes to pass, that the observation of many
men's being themselves last of all acquainted with what
falls out in their own families, may be applied to a nearer
home, to what passes within their own breasts.
There is plainly, in the generality of mankind, an absence of doubt or distrust, in a very great measure, as to
their moral character and behaviour; and likewise a disposition to take for granted, that all is right and well
with them in these respects. The former is owing to
their not reflecting, not exercising their judgment upon
themselves; the latter, to self-love.  I am not speaking
of that extravagance, which is sometimes to be met with;
instances of persons declaring in words at length, that
they never were in the wrong, nor had ever any diffidence of the justness of their conduct, in their whole
lives. No, these people are too far gone to have any
thing said to them. The thing before us is indeed ot
this kind, but in a iower degree, and confined to the
moral character; somewhat of which we almost all of us
have, without reflecting upon it.  Now consider, how
long and how grossly, a person of the best understanding -
might be imposed upon by one of whom he had not any
suspicion, and in whom he placed an entire confidence;
especially if there were friendship and real kindness in
the case: surely this holds even stronger with respect
to that self we are all so fond of.  Hence arises in men
a disregard of reproof and instruction, rules of conduct
and moral discipline, which occasionally come in their
way: a disregard, I say, of these; not in every respect,
but in this single one, namely, as what may be of service
to them in particular towards mending their own hearts
and tempers, and making them better men. It never in
earnest comes into their thoughts, whether such admo.
nitions may not relate, and be of service to themselves,
and this quite distinct from a positive persuasion to the
contrary, a persuasion from reflection that they are inH Q




116             UPON SELF-DECEMT.            (Sn. X,
nocent and blameless in those respects. Thus we may
invert the observation which is somewhere made upon
Brutus, that he never read, but in order to make himself
a better man. It scarce comes into the thoughts of the
generality of mankind, that this use is to be made of
moral reflections which they meet with; that this use, I
say, is to be made of them by themselves, for every body
observes and wonders that it is not done by others.
Further, there are instances of persons having so fixed
and steady an eye upon their own interest, whatever
they place it in, and the interest of those whom they
consider as themselves, as in a manner to regard nothing
else; their views are almost confined to this alone. Now
we cannot be acquainted with, or in any propriety of
speech be said to know any thing, but what we attend
to. If therefore they attend only to one side, they really
will not, cannot see or know what is to be alleged on the
bther. Though a man hath the best eyes in the world,
he cannot see any way but that which he turns them.
Thus these persons, without passing over the least, the
most minute thing, which can possibly be urged in favour of themselves, shall overlook entirely the plainest
and most obvious things on the other side. And whilst
they are under the power of this temper, thought and
consideration upon the matter before them has scarce
any tendency to set them right: because they are engaged; and their deliberation concerning an action to be
done, or reflection upon it afterwards, is not to see whether it be right, but to find out reasons to justify or palliate it; palliate it, not to others, but to themselves.
In some there is to be observed a general ignorance
of themselves, and wrong way of thinking and judging
in every thing relating to themselves; their fortune, reputation, every thing in which self can come in: and this
perhaps attended with the rightest judgment in all other
matters.  In others this partiality is not so general, has
not taken hold of the whole man, but is confined to some
particular favourite passion, interest, or pursuit; suppose
ambition, covetousness, or anv other. And these persons may probably judge and determine what is perfectly
just and proper, even in things in which they themselves




8,r. X.]                   UPON  SELF-DECEIT.                              i 17
are  concerned, if these things  have  no relation  to their
particular  favourite  passion  or  pursuit.   Hence  arises
that amazing incongruity, and seeming inconsistency
of character, from whence slight observers take it
for granted, that the whole is hypocritical and false;
not being able otherwise to reconcile the several parts:
whereas in truth there is real honesty, so far as it goes.
There is such a thing as men's being honest to such a
degree, and in such respects, but no further. And this,
as it is true, so it is absolutely necessary to be taken
notice of, and allowed them; such general and undistinguishing censure of their whole character, as designing
and false, being one main thing which confirms them in
their self-deceit. They know that the whole censure is
not true; and so take for granted that no part of it is.
But to go on with the explanation of the thing itself:
Vice in general consists in having an unreasonable and
too  great regard  to  ourselves, in  comparison  of others.
Robbery and murder is never from the love of injustice
or cruelty, but to gratify some other passion, to gain
some supposed advantage: and it is false selfishness
alone, whether cool or passionate, which makes a man
resolutely pursue that end, be it ever so much to the
injury of another. But whereas, in common and ordinary wickedness, this unreasonableness, this partiality
and selfishness, relates only, or chiefly, to the temper
and passions, in the characters we are now considering,
it reaches to the understanding, and influences the very
judgment.' And, besides that general want of distrust
and diffidence concerning our own character, there are,
* That peculiar regard for ourselves which frequently produces this partiality of
judgment in our own favour, may have a quite colntlary effect, and occasion the
utmost diffidence and distrust of ourselves; were it only, as it way set us upon a more
frequent and strict survey and review of our own character and behaviour.  This
search or recollection itself implies somewhat'of diffidence; and the discoveries we
make, what is brought to our view, may possibly increase it.  Good-will to another
may either blind our judgment, so as to make us overlook his faults; or it may put
us upon exercising that judgment with greater strictl:ess, to see whether he is sc
fiultless and perfect as we wish him. If that peculiar regard to ourselves leads us
to examine our own character with this greater severity, ill order really to improve
and grow better, it is the most comnlmel able turn of minil possiieh, and can scarce
be to excess. But if, as every thing Ibath iLs co()literfiit, we are so much employed;li)out ourselves ill orl'r to dlisguse wl;at is alm as. ta, iLo liak'e a better appearance;
ri if our attention to out.elves lhas llit fly this efft c.L; it is liable to run up into,r!,' atest weakness alul cxcess. ald is like all otdt,r  xcesses its own disappointment$
(.,. svaIrce anly show\' thl;;ust.lYv.S ) tiotlvallrt'   \, w.o aret over solicitous of doing _




118              UPON SELF-DECEIT.            [ISr. X?ou see, two things, which may thus prejudice and darken
~he understanding itself: that over-fondness for ourselves,
hich we are all so liable to; and also being under the
power of any particular passion or appetite, or engaged
in any particular pursuit. And these, especially the last
of tile two, may be in so great a degree, as to influence.our judgment, even of other persons and their behaviour.
Thus a man, whose temper is formed to ambition or
covetousness, shall even approve of them sometimes in
others.
This seems to be in a good measure the account of
self-partiality and self-deceit, when traced up to its
original.  Whether it be, or be not thought satisfactory,
that there is such a thing is manifest; and that it is the
occasion of great part of the unreasonable behaviour of
men towards each other: that by means of it they palliate
their vices and follies to themselves: and that it prevents
their applying to themselves those reproofs and instructions, which they meet with either in scripture or in moral
and religious discourses, though exactly suitable to the
state of their own mind, and the course of their behaviour.  There is one thing further to be added here, that
the temper we distinguish by hardness of heart with:respect to others, joined with this self-partiality, will
carry a man almost any lengths of wickedness, in the way
of oppression, hard usage of others, and even to plain
injustice; without his having, fromn what appears, any
real sense at all of it.  This indeed was not the general
character of David: for he plainly gave scope to the
affections of compassion and good-will, as well as to his
passions of another kind.
But as some occasions and circumstances lie more
p,pen to this self-deceit, and give it greater scope and
opportunities than others, these require to be particularly
i-nentioned.
It is to be observed then, that as there are express
determinate acts of wickedness, such as murder, adultery,
theft: so, on the other hand, there are numberless cases
in which the vice and wickedness cannot be exactly
defined; but consists in a certain general temper and
"course of action, or ir, the neglect of some duty, suppose




acS. X.]          UPON SELF-DECEIT,                119
charity or any other, whose bounds and degrees are not
fixed. This is the very province of self-deceit and selfpartiality: here it governs without check or control.
"For what commandment is there broken  Is there a
transgression where there is no law? a vice which cannot be defined?"
Whoever will consider the whole commerce of human
life, will see that a great part, perhaps the greatest part,
of the intercourse amongst mankind, cannot be reduced
to fixed determinate rules.  Yet in these cases there is
a right and a wrong: a merciful, a liberal, a kind and
compassionate behaviour, which surely is our duty; and
an unmerciful contracted spirit, a hard and oppressive
course of behaviour, which is most certainly immoral
and vicious.  But who can define precisely, wherein that
contracted spirit and hard usage of others consist, as
mnurder and theft may be defined?  There is not a word
in our languagc, which expresses more detestable wickcdLess than oppression; yet the nature of this vice cannot
be so exactly stated, nor the bounds of it so determinately
marked, as that we shall be able to say in all instances,
M lhere rigid right and justice ends, and oppression begins.
In these cases there is great latitude left, for every one
to determine for, and consequently to deceive himself.
It is chiefly in these cases that self-deceit comes in; as
ever-y one must see that there is much larger scope for
it here, than in express, single, determinate acts of
wickedness.  However it comes in with respect to the
circumstances attending the most gross and determinate
acts of' wickedness. Of this, the story of David, nowbefore us, affords the most astonishing instance.  It is
really prodigious, to see a man, before so remarkable for
virtue and piety, going on deliberately from adultery to
murder, with the same cool contrivance, and, from what
appears, with as little disturbance, as a man would en.
deavour to prevent the ill consequences of a mistake he
had made in any common matter.  That total insensibility of mind with respect to those horrid crimes, after
the commission of them, manifestvly shows that he did
some way or other delude himself: and this could not be
with respect to the crimes therns Ives, they were  o




120              UPON SELF-DECEIT.              [SER. x.
manifestly of the grossest kind.  What the particular
circumstances were, with which he extenuated them, and
quieted and deceived himself; is not related.
Having thus explained the nature of internal hypocrisy
and self-deceit, and remarked the occasions upon which
it exerts itself; there are several things further to be observed concerning it: that all of the sources, to which it
was traced up, are sometimes observable together in one
and the same person: but that one of them  is more remarkable, and to a higher degree, in some, and others of
them are so in others: that in general it is a complicated
thing; and may be in all different degrees and kinds:
that the temper itself is essentially in its own nature
vicious and immoral. It is unfairness: it is dishonesty;
it is falseness of heart: and is therefore so far frorn extenuating guilt, that it is itself the greatest of all guilt in
proportion to the degree it prevails; for it is a corruption
of the whole moral character in its principle. Our understanding, and sense of good and evil, is the light and guide
of life: If therefore this light that is in thee be darkness,
houw great is that darkness!' For this reason our Saviour
puts an evil eye as the direct opposite to a single eye;
the absence of that simplicity, which these last words
imply, being itself evil and vicious. And whilst men are
under the power of this temper, in proportion still to the
degree they are so, they are fortified on every side
against conviction: and when they hear the vice and
folly of what is in truth their own course of life, exposed
in the justest and strongest manner, they will often assent to it, and even carry the matter further; persuading
themselves, one does not know how, but some way or
other persuading themselves, that they are out of these,
and that it hath no relation to them. Yet, notwithstanding this, therefrequently appears a suspicion, that all is
not right, or as it should be; and perhaps there is always
at bottom somewhat of this sort, There are doubtless
many instances of the ambitious, the revengeful, the
covetous, and those whom with too great indulgence we
only call the men of pleasure, who will not allow them.selves to think how guilty they are, who explain and
* Matt. v..23.




Sm. K.]          UPON SELF-DECEIT.             121
argue away their guilt to themselves: and though they
do really impose upon themselves in some measure, yet
there are none of them but have, if not a proper knowledge, yet at least an implicit suspicion, where the weak
ness lies, and what part of their behaviour they have
reason to wish unknown or forgotten for ever. Truth,
and real good sense, and thorough integrity, carry along
with them a peculiar consciousness of their own genuineness: there is a feeling belonging to them, which does
not accompany their counterfeits, error, folly, halfhonesty, partial and slight regards to virtue and right,
so far only as they are consistent with that course of
gratification which men happen to be set upon. And,
if this be the case, it is much the same as if we should
suppose a man to have had a general view of some
scene, enough to satisfy him that it was very disagreeable, and then to shut his eyes, that he might not have a
particular or distinct view of its several deformities.  It
is as easy to close the eyes of the mind, as those of the
bod.y: and the former is more frequently done with wilfulness, and yet not attended to, than the latter; the
actions of the mind being more quick and transient, than
those of the senses. This may be further illustrated by
another thing observable in ordinary life. It is not uncommon for persons, who run out their fortunes, entirely
to neglect looking into the state of their. affairs, and this
from a general knowledge, that the condition of them is
bad. These extravagant people are perpetually ruined
before they themselves expected it: and they tell you
for an excuse, and tell you truly, that they did not think
they were so much in debt, or that their expenses so far
exceeded their income. And vet no one will take this
for an excuse, who is sensible that their ignorance of
their particular circumstances was owing to their general
knowledge of them; that is, their general knowledge,
that matters were not well with them, prevented their
looking into particulars. There is somewhat of the like
kind with this in respect to morals, virtue, and religion.
Men find that the survey of themselves, their own heart
and temper, their own life and behaviour, doth not afford
them satisfaction: things are not as they should be.




122              UPON SELF-DECEIT.            [Sma. X.
therefore they turn away, will not go over particulars, or
look deeper, lest they should find more amiss. For whc
would choose to be put out of humour'with himself?
No one, surely, if it were not in order to mend, and to
be more thoroughly and better pleased with himself foi.
the future.
If this sincere self-enjoyment and home-satisfaction lbe
thought desirable, and worth some pains and diligence;
the following reflections will, I suppose, deserve your
attention; as what may be of service and assistance to
all who are in any measure honestly disposed, for avoiding that fatal self-deceit, and towards getting acquainted
with themselves.
The first is, that those who have never had any
suspicion of, who have never made allowances for, this
weakness in themselves, who have never (if I maTy be.
allowed such a manner of speaking) caught themselves
in it, may almost take for granted that they have beein
very much misled by it.  For consider: nothing is more
manifest, than that affection and passion of all kinlds
influence the judgment.  Now as we have naturall (l
greater regard to ourselves than to others, as the private
affection is more prevalent than the public; the formye,'
will.have proportionally a greater influence upon tlhe
judgment, upon our way of considering things.  People
are not backward in owning this partiality of judgment,
in cases of friendship and natural relation.  The reason
is obvious, why it is not so readily acknowledged, when
the interest which misleads us is more confined, confined
to ourselves: but we all take notice of it in each other
in these cases. There is not any observation more
common, than that there is no judging of a matter from
hearing only one side.  This is not founded upon supposition, at least it is not always, of a formed design in
the relater to deceive: for it holds in cases, where he
expects that the whole will be told over again by the
other side. But the supposition, which this observation
is founded upon, is the very thing now before us; namely,
that men are exceedingly prone to deceive themselves, and
judge too favourably in every respect, where themselves
and their own interest are concerned.  Thus, though we




s,. X,          UPON SELF-DECEIT.              123
have not the least reason to suspect that such an interested person hath any intention to deceive us, yet we
of course make great allowances for his having deceived
himself. If this be general, almost universal, it is prodigious that every man can think himself an exception,
and that he is free from this self-partiality. The direct
contrary is the truth. Every man may take for granted
that he has a great deal of it, till, from the strictest observation upon himself, he finds particular reason to
think otherwise.
Secondly, There is one easy and almost sure way to
avoid being misled by this self-partiality, and to get acquainted with our real character: to have regard to the
suspicious part of it, and keep a steady eye over ourselves in that respect. Suppose then a man fully satisfied with himself, and his own behaviour; such a one, if
you please, as the Pharisee in the Gospel, or a better
man.-Well; but allowing this good opinion you have
of yourself to be true, yet every one is liable to be misrepresented.  Suppose then an enemy were to set about
defaming you. what part of your character would he single out? What particular scandal, think you, would he
be most likely to fix upon youP And what would the
world be most ready to believe? There is scarce a mai.
living but could, from the most transient superficial view
of himself, answer this question. What is that ill thing,
that faulty bellaviour, which I am apprehensive an enemy, who was thoroughly acquainted with me, would be
most likely to lay to my charge, and which the world
would be most apt to believe? It is indeed possible
that a man may not be guilty in that respect. All that
I say is, let him in plainness and honesty fix upon that.
part of' his character for a particular survey and reflection; and by this he will come to be acquainted, whether
he be guilty or innocent in that respect, and how far he
is one or the other.
Thirdly, It would very much prevent our being misled by this self-partiality, to reduce that practical rule of
our Saviour, Whatsoever ye would that men should do to
you, even so do unto them, to our judgment and way of
thinking. This rule, you see, conlsists of two parte




I   i2'3        t o.t N SEtLF'-DECElT.         is. Xa.
One is, to substitute another for yourself, when you take
a survey of any part of your behaviour, or consider what
is proper and fit and reasonable for you to do upon ant
occasion: the other part is, that you substitute yourse.?
in the room of another; consider yourself as the perso>:.
affected by such a behaviour, or towards whom such -n.i
action is done: and then you would not only see, buri
likewise feel, the reasonableness or unreasonableness of
such an action or behaviour. But, alas! the rule itsell
may be dishonestly applied: there are persons who have
not impartiality enough with respect to themselves, nor
regard enough for others, to be able to make a just application of it.  This just application, if men would
honestly make it, is in effect all that I have been recommending;  is the whole thing, the direct contrary tc
that inward dishonesty as r  ecting our intercourse
with our fellow creatures. And even the bearing this
rule in their thoughts may be of some service; the attempt thus to apply it, is an attempt towards being fair
and impartial, and may chance unawares to show them
to themselves, to show them the truth of the case they
are considering.
Upon the whole it is manifest, that there is such a
thing as this self-partiality and self-deceit: that in some
persons it is to a degree which would be thought increlible, were not the instances before our eyes; of which
the behaviour of David is perhaps the highest possible
one, in a single particular case; for there is not the least
appearance, that it reached his general character: that
we are almost all of us influenced by it in some degree,
and in some respects: that therefore every one ought to
have an eye to and beware of it. And all that I have
further to add upon this subject is, that either there is a
difference between right and wrong, or there is not:
religion is true, or it is not.  If it be not, there is no
reason for any concern about it: but if it be true, it requires real fairness of mind and honesty of heart. And,
if people will be wicked, they had better of the two be
so from the common vicious passions without such refinements, than from this deep and calm source of delusion; which undermines the whole principle of good:




$zi.XI.]   UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR.        125
darkens that light, that candle of the Lord witin, which
is to direct our steps; and corrupts conscience, which is
the guide of life.
SERMON XI.
UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR.
PREACHED ON ADVENT SUNDAY.
dnd if there be any other commandment, it is briefly comprehended
in this saying, namely, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. —
Rom. xiii. 9.
IT is commonly observed, that there is a disposition in
men to complain of the viciousness and corruption of the
age in which they live, as greater than that of former,nes; which is usually followed with this further observation, that mankind has been in that respect much the
same in all times. Now, not to determine whether this
last be not contradicted by the accounts of history; thus
much can scarce be doubted, that vice and folly takes
different turns, and some particular kinds of it are more
open and avowed in some ages than in others: and, I
suppose, it may be spoken of as very much the distinction of the present to profess a contracted spirit, and
greater regards to self-interest, than appears to have
been done formerly.  Upon this account it seems worth
while to inquire, whether private interest is likely to be
promoted in proportion to the degree in which self-love
engrosses us, and prevails over all other principles; or
whether the contracted affection may not possibly be so prevalent as to disappoint itself, and even contradict its own
end, private good.
And since, further, there is generally thought to be
some peculiar kind of contrariety between self-love and
the love of our neighbour, between the pursuit of public
and of private good; insomuch that when you are recommending one of these, you are supposed to be speaking against the other; and from hence arises a secret
prejudice against, and frequently open scorn of all talk
of public spirit, and real good-will to our fellow crea



126              UPON THE LOVE OF               rsER. XL
tures; it will be necessary to inquire what respect benevo.
lence hath to self-love, and the pursuit of private interest
to the pursuit of public: or whether there be any thing
of that peculiar inconsistence and contrariety between
them, over and above what there is between self-love
and other passions and particular affections, and their
respective pursuits.
These inquiries, it is hoped, may be favoulrably attended to: for there shall be all possible concessions
made to the favourite passion, which hath so much allowed to it, and whose cause is so universally pleaded:
it shall be treated with the utmost tenderness and concern for its interests.
In order to this, as well as to determine the forementio(ned questions, it will be necessary to consider the nature, the object, and end of that se/-love, as distinguishea
from other principles or affections in the mind, and their
respective objects.
Every man hath a general desire of his own happiness; and likewise a variety of particular affections, passions, and appetites to particular external objects.  The
former proceeds from, or is self-love; and seems inseparable from all sensible creatures, who can reflect upon
themselves and their own interest or happiness, so as to
iave that interest an object to their minds: what is to be.; Aid of the latter is, that they proceed from, or together:iake up that particular nature, according to which man
is made. The object the former pursues is somewhat
internal, our own happiness, enjoyment, satisfaction;
whether we have, or have not, a distinct particular perception what it is, or wherein it consists: the objects of
the latter are this or that particular external thing, which
the affections tend towards, and of which it hath alwavs
a particular idea or perception. The principle we call
self-love never seeks any thing external for the sake of
the thing, but only as a means of happiness or good:
particular affections rest in the external things themselves. One belongs to man as a reasonable creature
reflecting upon his own interest or happiness.  The
other, though quite distinct from reason, are as much a
part of human nature.




Am. xi.    OUR NEIGHBOUR.                        1l 7
That' all particular appetites and passions are towards
external things themselves, distinct from the pleasure arising from  them, is manifested from hence; that there
could not be this pleasure, were it not for that prior
suitableness between the object and the passion: there
could be no enjoyment or delight from one thing more
than another, from eating food more than from swallowing a stone, if there were not an affection or appetite to
one thing more than another.
Every particular affection, even the love of our neighbour, is as really our own affection, as self-love; and the
pleasure arising from its gratification is as much my own
pleasure, as the pleasure self-love would have, from
knowing I myself should be happy some time hence,
would b:l my own pleasure.  And it, because every particular affection is a man's own, and the pleasure arising
from its gratification his own pleasure, or pleasure to
himselft; such particular affection must be called self-love;
according to this way of speaking, no creature whatever
can possibly act but merely from s clf-love; and every
action and every affection whatever is to be resolved up
into this one principle.  But then this is not the
language of mankind: or if it were, we should want
words to express the difference, between the principle
of an action, proceeding from cool consideration that it
will be to my own advantage; and an action, suppose of
revenge, or of friendship, by which a man runs upon
certain ruin, to do evil or good to another.  It is manifest the principles of these actions are totally different,
and so want different words to be distinguished by: all
that they agree in is, that they both proceed from, and
are done to gratify an inclination in a man's self. But
the principle or inclination in one case is self-love: in
the other, hatred or love of another. There is then a
distinction between the cool principle of self-love, or
general desire of our own happiness, as one part of our
nature, and one principle of action; and the particular
affections towards particular external objects, as another
part of our nature, and another principle of action. How
much soever therefore is to b)e allowed to, self-love, yet
it cannot be allowed to be the w!olt of ),i' itward con



128              UPON THE LOVE OF             [S.l XL
stitution; because, you see, there are other parts or principles which come into it.
Further, private happiness or good is all which selflove can make us desire, or be concerned about: in having this consists its gratification; it is an affection to our-.
selves; a regard to our own interest, happiness, and
private good: and in the proportion a man hath this, he
is interested, or a lover of himself. Let this be kept in
mind; because there is commonly, as I shall presently
have occasion to observe, another sense put upon these
words.  On the other hand, particular affections tend
towards particular external things: these are their objects: having these is their end: in this consists their
gratification: no matter whether it be, or be not, upon
the whole, our interest or happiness.  An action done
from the former of these principles is called an interested action.  An action proceeding from any of the latter
has its denomination of passionate, ambitious, friendly,
revengeful, or any other, from tile particular appetite or
affection from which it proceeds. Thus self-love as one
part of human nature, and the several particular principles as the other part, are, themselves, their objects and
ends, stated and shown.
From hence it will be easy to see, how far, and in
what ways, each of these can contribute and be subservient to the private good of the individual. Happiness
does not consist in self-love. The desire of happiness
is no more the thing itself, than the desire of riches is
the possession or enjoyment of themn. People may love
themselves with the most entire and unbounded affection,
and yet be extremely miserable. Neither can self-love
any way help them  out, but by setting them  on work
to get rid of the causes of their misery, to gain or make
use of those objects which are by nature adapted to afford satisfaction.  Happiness or satisfaction consists
only in the enjoyment of those objects, which are by nature suited to our several particular appetites, passions,
and affections. So that if self-love wholly engrosses us
and leaves no room for any other principle, there can
be absolutely no such thing at all as happiness, or enjoyment of any kind whatever; since happiness consists iv




ERR. XI.]        OUR NEIGHBOUR.                 129
the gratification of particular passions, which supposes
the having of them.  Self-love then does not constitute
df/is or t;at to be our interest or good; but, our interest
or good being constituted by nature and supposed, selflove only puts us upon obtaining and securing it. Therefore, if it be possible, that self-love may prevail and exert
itself in a degree or manner which is not subservient to
this end; then it will not follow, that our interest will be
promoted in proportion to the degree in which that
principle engrosses us, and prevails over others. Nay
ftlrt}ler, the private and contracted affection, when it is
not subservient to this end, private good, may, for any
thing that appears, have a direct contrary tendency and
effect.  And if we will consider the matter, we shall see
that it often really has. Disengagement is absolutely necessary to enjoyment: and a person may have so steady
and fixed an eye upon his own interest, whatever he
places it in, as may hinder him from attending to many
gratifications within his reach, which others have their
mindsJree and open to. Over-fondness for a child is
not generally thought to be for its advantage: and, it
there be any guess to be made from appearances, surely
that character we call selfish is not the most promising
for happiness. Such a temper may plainly be, and exert
itself in a degree and manner which may give unnecessary and useless solicitude and anxiety, in a degree and
manner which may prevent obtaining the means and
materials of enjoyment, as well as the making use of
them. Immoderate self-love does very ill consult its
own interest: and how much soever a paradox it may
appear, it is certainly true, that even from self-love we
should endeavour to get over all inordinate regard to,
and consideration of ourselves. Every one of our passions and affections hath its natural stint and bound,
which may easily be exceeded; whereas our enjoyments
can possibly be but in a determinate measure and degree. Therefore such excess of the affection, since it
cannot procure any enjoyment, must in all cases be useless; but is generally attended with inconveniences, and
often is downright pain and misery. This holds as much
with regard to self-love as to all other affections. The
i




130              UPON THE LOVE OF              [Su. XI.
natural degree of it, so far as it sets us on work to gain
and make use of the materials of satisfaction, may be to
our real advantage; but beyond or besides this, it is inl
several respects an inconvenience and disadvantage.
Thus it appears, that private interest is so far from being likely to be promoted in proportion to the degree in
which self-love engrosses us, and prevails over all other
principles; that the contracted affection may be so prevalent as to disappoint itself, and even contradict its own end,
private good.
"But who, except the most sordidly covetous, ever
thought there was any rivalship between the love of
greatness, honour, power, or between sensual appetites,
and self-love P No, there is a perfect harmony between
them.  It is by means of these particular appetites and
affections that self-love is gratified in enjoyment, happiness, and satisfaction. The competition and rivalship is
between self-love and the love of our neighbour: that
affection which leads us out of ourselves, makes us regardless of our own interest, and substitute that of another in its stead." Whether then there be any peculiar
competition and contrariety in this case, shall now be
considered.
Self-love and interestedness was stated to consist in ol
be an affection to ourselves, a regard to our own private
good: it is therefore distinct from benevolence, which is
an affection to the good of our fellow creatures. But
that benevolence is distinct from, that is, not the same
thing with self-love, is no reason for it being looked upon with any peculiar suspicion; because every principle
whatever, by means of which self-love is gratified, is distinct from it: and all things which are distinct from each
other are equally so.  A man has an affection or aversion to another: that one of these tends to, and is gratified by doing good, that the other tends to, and is gratified by doing harm, does not in the least alter the respect
which either one or the other of these inward feelings
has to self-love. We use the word property so as to
exclude any other persons having an interest in that ot
which we say a particular man has the property. And
we often use the word selfish so as to exclude in the same




~A. -,a.j          OUR NEIGHBOUR.                 13*
manner all regards to the good of others.  But the cases
are not parallel: for though that exclusion is really part
of the idea of property; yet such positive exclusion, or
bringing this peculiar disregard to the good of others into
the idea of self-love, is in reality adding to the idea, or
changing it from what it was before stated to consist in,
namely, in an affection to. ourselves.'  This being the
whole idea of self-love, it can no otherwise exclude goodwill or love of others, than merely by not including it,
no otherwise, than it excludes love of arts or of reputation, or of any thing else. Neither on the other hand
does benevolence, any more than love of arts or of reputation, exclude self-love.  Love of our neighbour then
has just the same respect to, is no more distant from
self-love, than hatred of our neighbour, or than love or
hatred of any thing else.  Thus the principles, from
which men rush upon certain ruin for the destruction of
an enemy, and for the preservation of a friend, have the
same respect to the private affection, and are equally
interested, or equally disinterested: and it is of no avail,
whether they are said to be one or the other.  Therefore
to those who are shocked to hear virtue spoken of as disinterested, it may be allowed that it is indeed absurd to speak
thus of it; unless hatred, several particular instances of
vice, and all the common affections and aversions in mankind, are acknowledged to be disinterested too.  Is there
any less inconsistence, between the love of inanimate
things, or of creatures merely sensitive, and self-love;
than between self-love and the love of our neighbour?
Is desire of and delight in the happiness of another any
more a diminution of self-love, than desire of and delight
in the esteem of anotherP They are both equally desire
of and delight in somewhat external to ourselves: either
both or neither are so. The object of self-love is expressed
in the term self: and every appetite of sense, and every
particular affection of the heart, are equally interested or
disinterested, because the objects of them all are equally
self or somewhat else. Whatever ridicule therefore the
mention of a disinterested principle or action may be
supposed to lie open to, must, upon the matter being
* P. 127.
12




132              UPON THE LOVE OF            [S. XL
thus stated, relate to ambition, and every appetite and
particular affection, as much as to benevolence. And
indeed all the ridicule, and all the grave perplexity, ol
which this subject hath had its full share, is merely from
words. The most-intelligible way of speaking of it seems
to be this: that self-love and the actions done in consequence of it (for these will presently appear to be the
same as to this question) are interested; that particular
affections towards external objects, and the actions done
in consequence of those affections, are not so. But every
one is at liberty to use words as he pleases. All that is
here insisted upon is, that ambition, revenge, benevolence, all particular passions whatever, and the actions
they produce, are equally interested or disinterested.
Thus it appears that there is no peculiar contrariety
between self-love and benevolence; no greater competition between these, than between any other particular
affections and self-love. This relates to the affections
themselves. Let us now see whether there be any peculiar contrariety between the respective courses of life
which these affections lead to; whether there be any
greater competition between the pursuit of private and
of public good, than between any other particular pursuits and that of private good.
There seems no other reason to suspect that there is
any such peculiar contrariety, but only that the courses
of action which benevolence leads to, has a more direct
tendency to promote the good of others, than that course
of action which love of reputation suppose, or any other
particular affection leads to.  But that any affection
tends to the happiness of another, does not hinder its
tending to one's own happiness too. That others enjoy
the benefit of the air and the light of the sun, does not
hinder but that these are as much one's own private
advantage now, as they would be if we had the property
of them exclusive of all others. So a pursuit which
tends to promote the good of another, yet may have as
great tendency to promote private interest, as a pursuit
which does not tend to the good of another at all, or
which is mischievous to him. All particular affections
whatever, resentment, benevolence, love of arts, equally




By. XI.1           OUR NEUIHBOITR.                 133
lead to a course of action for their own gratification, i.e.
the gratification of ourselves; and the gratification of
each gives delight: so far then it is manifest they have
all the same respect to private interest.  Now take int(o
consideration further, concerning these three pursuits,
that the end of the first is the harm, of the second, the
good of another, of the last, somewhat indifferent; and
is there any necessity, that these additional considerations
should alter the respect, which we before saw these three
pursuits, had to private interest; or render any one of
them less conducive to it, than any other? Thus one
man's affection is to honour as his end; in order to ob.tain which he thinks no pains too great.  Suppos.
another, with such a singularity of mind, as to have the
same affection to public good as his end, which he
endeavours with the same labour to obtain. In case of
success, surely the man of benevolence hath as gre;it
enjoyment as the man of ambition; they both equalI,
having the end of their affections, in the same degrtee,
tended to: but in case of disappointment, the benevolent
man has clearly the advantage; since endeavouring, to:
do good considered as a virtuous pursuit, is gratifi d bits own consciousness, i.e. is in a degree its own reward.
And as to these two, or benevolence and any otlih r
particular passions whatever, considered in a fturtllecr
view, as forming a general temper, which more or less
disposes us for enjoyment of all the common blessings
of life, distinct from their own gratification: is benevolence less the temper of tranquillity and freedom than
ambition or covetousness? Does the benevolent man
appear less easy with himself, from his love to his neighbourP Does he less relish his being:? Is there anN
peculiar gloom seated on his face? Is his mind less
open to entertainment, to any particular gratification?
Nothing is more manifest, than that being in good
humour, which is benevolence whilst it lasts, is itself
the temper of satisfaction and enjoyment.
Suppose then a man sitting down to consider how he
might become most easy to himself, and attain the
greatest pleasure he could; all that which is his real
natural happiness.  This can only consist in the enjovy




134              UPON THE LOVE OF           ISms. XI.
ment of those objects, which are by nature adapted to
our several faculties. These particular enjoyments make
up the sum total of our happiness: and they are supposed
to arise from riches, honours, and the gratification of
sensual appetites: be it so: yet none profess themselves
so completely happy in these enjoyments, but that there
is room left in the mind of others, if they were presented
to them: nay, these, as much as they engage us, are not
thought so high, but that human nature is capable even
of greater. Now there have been persons in all ages,
who have professed that they found satisfaction in the
exercise of charity, in the love of their neighbour, in
endeavouring to promote the happiness of all they had
to do with, and in the pursuit of what is just, and right,
and good, as the general bent of their mind, and end of
their life; and that doing an action of baseness or cruelty
would be as great violence to their self, as much breaking in upon their nature, as any external force. Persons
of this character would add, if they might be heard, that
they consider themselves as acting in the view of an infinite Being, who is in a much higher sense the object of
reverence and of love, than all the world besides; and
therefore they could have no more enjoyment from a
wicked action done under his eye, than the persons to
whom they are making their apolqgy could, if all mankind were the spectators of it; and that the satisfaction
of approving themselves to his unerring judgment, to
whom they thus refer all their actions, is a more continued settled satisfaction than any this world can afford;
as also that they have, no less than others, a mind free
and' open to all the common innocent gratifications of it
such as they are. And if we go no further, does there
appear any absurdity in this?) Will any one take upon
him to say, that a man cannot find his account in this
general course of life, as much as in the most unbounded
ambition, and the excesses of pleasure?  Or that such a
person has not consulted so well for himself, for the
satisfaction and peace of his own mind, as the ambitious
or dissolute man? And though the consideration, that
God himself will in the end justify their taste, and support their cause, is not formally to be insisted upon here




Sr. XU.]           OUR NEIGHBOUR.                   135
yet thus much comes in, that all enjoyments whatever
are much more clear and unmixed from  the assurance
that they will end well.  Is it certain then that there is
nothing in these pretensions to happiness.P especially
when there are not wanting persons, who have supported
themselves with satisfactions of this kind in sickness,
poverty, disgrace, and in the very pangs of death; wvlereas it is maniftst all other enjoyments fail in these circumstances.  This surely looks suspicious of ha, ie,;
somewhat in it.  Self-love methinks should be alarm 1ed.
May she not possil)ly pass over. greater pleasures, than
those shle is so wIlhollv taken up withP
The short of tle matter is no more than this.  Happiness consists il the gratification of certain affections,
appetites, passionts, with objects which are by nature
adapted to tllemin. Self-love may indeed set us on work
to gratit'f  t}l se; but happiness or enjoyment has 1nf
immediate connexion with self-love, but arises from such
gratification alone.  Love of our neighbour is one of
those affections.  This, considered as a virtuous principle,
is gratified by a consciousness of enideavouriny to promote
the good of others; but considered as natural affection,
its gratification consists in the actual accomplishment of
this endeavour.  Now indulgence or gratification of this
affection, whether in that consciousness, or this acconmplishment, has the same respect to interest, as indulgence
of any other affection; they equally proceed from or do
not proceed from  self-love, they equally include or
equally exclude this principle. Thus it appears, that
benevolence and the pursuits of public good hath at least as
great respect to self-love and the pursuits of private good,
as any other particular passions, and their respectibe
pursuits.
Neither is covetousness, whether as a temper or pursuit, any exception to this.  For if by covetousness is
meant the desire and pursuit of riches for their own sake,
without any regard to, or consideration of, the uses of
them; this hath as little to do with self-love, as benevolence hath.  But bv this word is usually meant, not such
madness and total distraction of mind, but immoderate
affection to and pursuit of riches as possessions in order




136              UPON THE LOVE OF               SP.. XI.
to some further end; namely, satisfaction, interest, or
good. This therefore is not a particular affection, oi
particular pursuit, but it is the general principle of selflove, and the general pursuit of our own interest; for
which reason the word selfish is by every one appropriated to this temper and pursuit.  Now as it is ridiculous to assert, that self-love and the love of our neighbour
are the same: so neither is it asserted, that following
these different affections hath the same tendency and
respect to our own interest.  The comparison is not be.tween self-love and the love of our neighbour; between
pursuit of our own interest, and the interest of others:
but between the several particular affections in human
nature towards external objects, as one part of the cornparison; and the one particular affection to the good of
our neighbour, as the other part of it: and it has been
shown, that all these have the same respect to self-love
and private interest.
There is indeed frequently an inconsistence or interfering between self-love or private interest, and the
several particular appetites, passions, affections, or the
pursuits they lead to.  But this competition or interfering is merely accidental; and happens much oftener between pride, revenge, sensual gratifications, and private
interest, than between private interest and benevolence.
For nothing is more common, than to see men give
themselves up to a passion or an affection to their known
prejudice and ruin, and in direct contradiction to maniifest and real interest, and the loudest calls of self-love:
whereas the seeming competitions and interfering, between benevolence and private interest, relate much
more to the materials or means of enjoyment, than to
enjoyment itself. There is often an interfering in the
former, when there is.none in the latter.  Thus as to
riches: so much money as a man gives away, so much
less will remain in his possession. Here is a real interfering. But though a man cannot possibly give without
lessening his fortune, yet there are multitudes might give
without lessening their own enjoyment; because they
may have mbre than they can turn to any real use or
advantage to themselves. Thus, the more thought and




SCK. XI.]          OUR NEIGHiBOUR.               137
tim'e any one employs about the interests and good of
others, he must necessarily have less to attend his own;
but he may have so ready and large a supply of his own
wants, that such thought might be really useless to himself, though of great service and assistance to others.
The general mistake, that there is some greater inconsistence between endeavouring to promote the good of
another and self-interest, than between self-interest and
pursuing any thing else, seems, as hath already been
hinted, to arise from our notions of property; and to be
carritd on by this property's being supposed to be itself
our happiness or good. People are so very much taken
up with this one subject, that they seem from it to have
fbrmed a general way of thinking, which they apply to
other things that they have nothing to do with.  Hence,
in a confused and slight way, it might well be taken for
granted, that another's having no interest in an affection,
(i. e. his good not being the object of it,) renders, as one
may speak, the proprietor's interest in it greater; and
that if another had an interest in it, this would render
his less, or occasion that such affection could not be so
friendly to self-love, or conducive to private good, as an
affection or pursuit whvichl lhas not a regard to the good
of' another.  This, I sax,,.night be taken fbr granted,
whilst it was not attended to, that the object of every
particular affection is equally somewhat external to ourselves; and wheth:r it be the good of another person, or
whether it be any other external thing, makes no alteration with regard to its being one's own affection, and the
gratification of it one's own private enjoyment.  And so
far as it is taken for granted, that barely having the
means and materials of enjoyment is what constitutes
interest and happiness; that our interest or good consists
in possessions themselves, in having the property of
riches, houses, lands, gardens, not in the enjoyment of
them; so far it will even more strongly be taken for
granted, in the way already explained, that an affection's
conducing to the good of another, must even necessarily
occasion it to conduce less to private good, if not to be
positively detrimental to it. For, if property and happisless are one and the same thing, as by increasing the




138              UPON THE LOVE OF              [Sa. XI
property of another, you lessen your own property, so by
promoting the happiness of another, you must lessen
your own happiness. But whatever occasion the mistake, I hope it hlas been fully proved to be one; as it has
been proved, that there is no peculiar rivalship or competition between  self-love and benevolence; that as
there may be a coirtpetitio  betxween these two, so there
may also between anNy par.ticular affection whatever and
self-love; that every partic;,lar affection, benevolence
among the rest, is subservient to self-love, by being the
instrument of private enjy-nlment; and that in one respect
benevolence contributes nmore to private interest, i. e. enjoyment or satisfaction, than any other of the particular
common affections, as it is in a degree its own gratification.
And to all these things may be added, that religion,
from whence arises our strongest obligation to benevoI..nce, is so far from disowning the principle of self-love,
tliat it often addresses itself to that very principle, and
always to the mind in that state when reason presides:;and there can no access be had to the understanding,
1:hut by convincing men, tlat the course of life we would
persuade them  to is not contrary to their interest.  It
may be allowed, without any prejudice to the cause
of virtue and religion, that our ideas of happiness and
misery are of all our ideas the nearest and most important to us; that they will, nay, if you please, that they
ought to prevail over those of order, and beauty, and
harmony, and proportion, if there should ever be, as it is
impossible there ever should be, any inconsistence between them: though these last, too, as expressing the
fitness of actions, are real as truth itself. Let it be allowed, though virtue or moral rectitude does indeed consist in affection to and pursuit of what is right and good,
as such; yet, that when we sit down in a cool hour, we
can neither justify to ourselves this or any other pursuit,
till we are convinced that it will be for our happiness, or
at least not contrary to it.
Common reason and humanity, will have some influ.
ence upon mankind, whatever becomes of speculations:
but, so far as the interests of virtue depend upon the




Uil. XI.]          OUR NEIGIHBOIJR.               139
theory of it being secured froom open scorn, so far its
very being in the world depends tpon its appearing ta
have no contrariety to private interest and self-love.
The foregoing observations, therefore, it is hluped, may
have gained a little ground in favour of the precept before us; the particular explanation of which shall be the
subject of the next discourse.
I will conclude at present, with observing the peculiar
obligation which we are under to virtue and religion, as
enforced in the verses following the text, in the epistle
for the day, from our Saviour's coming into the world.
Tie night is Jar spent, the day is at hand; let us therefbre
cast off' the works o' darkness, and let us put on the armour
of jiqht, &c.  The meaning and force of which exhortation is, that Christianity lays us under new obligations
to a good life, as bv it the will of God is more clearly
revealed, and as it affords adclitional motives to the practice of it, over and above those which arise out of the
nature of virtue and vice; I might add, as our Saviour
has set us a perfect example of goodness in our own nature.  Now love and charity is plainly the. thing in Which
he hath placed his religion; in which, therefore, as V;"e
have any pretence to the name of Christians, we rnsli
place ours.  He hath at once enjoined it upon us by
way of command with peculiar force; and by his exatmple, as having undertaken the work of our salvation out
of pure love and good-will to mankind.  The endeavour
to set home this example upon our minds is a very proper employment of this season, which is bringing on the
festival of his birth: which as it may teach us many excellent lessons of humility, resignation, and obedience to
the will of God; so there is none it recommends with
greater authority, force, and advantage, than this of love
and charity; since it was for us men, and for our salvation, that he came down from heaven, and was incarnate,
and was made man; that he might teach us our duty, and
more especially that he might enforce the practice of it,
reform mankind, and finally bring us to that eternal sat=tion, of which 1e is the Author to all those that obev hi.n




140            UPON THE LOVE 01
SE1RMON XI!.
UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUL
Aid if there be any other commandment, it is briefly comprehendea
in this saying, namely, Tlhou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. —
Rom. xiii. 9.
HAVING already removed the prejudices against public
spirit, or the love of our neighbour, on the side of private
interest and self-love; I proceed to the particular explanation of the precept before us, by showing, Who is our
eiiydhbour: In what sense we are required to love him as
ourselve.: The influence such love would have -upon our
be/laviour in life: and lastly, How this commandment com-?reihends in it all others.
I. The objects and due extent of this affection will be
understood by attending to the nature of it, and to the
nature and circumstances of mankind in this world. The
love of our neighbour is the same with charity, benevolence, or good-will: it is an affection to the good and
happiness of our fellow creatures. This implies in it a
disposition to produce happiness: and this is the simple
notion of goodness, which appears so amiable wherever
we meet with it. From hence it is easy to see, that the
perfection of goodness consists in love to the whole universe. This is the perfection of Almighty God.
But as man is so much limited in his capacity, as so
small a part of the creation comes under his notice and
influence, and as we are not used to consider things in
so general a way; it is not to be thought of, that the
universe should be the object of benevolence to such
creatures as we are. Thus in that precept of our Sa-viour, Be ye perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven
is perfect,* the perfection of the divine goodness is proposed to our imitation as it is promiscuous, and extends
to the evil as well as the good; not as it is absolutely
universal, imitation of it in this respect being plainly
beyond us. The object is too vast. For this reasot
* Mat. v. A4




sm. XII.I         OUR NEIGHBOUR.               141
moral writers also have substituted a less general object
for our benevolence, mankind. But this likewise is an
object too general, and very much out of our view.
Therefore persons more practical have, instead of mankind, put our country; and this is what we call a public
spirit; which in men of public stations is the character
of a patriot.  But this is speaking to the upper part of
the world. Kingdoms and governments are large; and
the sphere of action of far the greatest part of mankind
is much narrower than the government they live under:
or, however, common men do not consider their actions
as affecting the whole community of which they are
members. There plainly is wanting a less general and
nearer object of benevolence for the bulk of men, than
that of their country.  Therefore the scripture, not being
a book of theory and speculation, but a plain rule of life
for mankind, has with the utmost possible propriety put
the principle of virtue upon the love of our neighbour;
which is that part of the universe, that part of mankind,
that part of our country, which comes under our immediate notice, acquaintance, and influence, and with which
we have to do.
This is plainly the true account or reason, why our
Saviour places the principle of virtue in the love of our
neighbour; and the account itself shows who are comprehended under that relation.
II. Let us now consider in what sense we are commanded to love our neighbour as ourselves.
This precept, in its first delivery by our Saviour, is
thus introduced: Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with
all thine heart, with all thy soul, and with all thy strength;
and thy neighbour as thyself. These very different manners of expression do not lead our thoughts to the same
measure or degree of love, common to both objects; but
to one, peculiar to each. Supposing then, which is to
be supposed, a distinct meaning and propriety in the
words, as thyself; the precept we are considering will
admit of any of these senses: that we bear the same kind
of affection to our neighbour, as we do to ourselves: or,
that the love we bear to our neighbour should have some
certain proportion or other to self-love: or, lastly, that it




142              UPON THE LOVE OF            [SE. XII.
should bear thi particular proportion of equality, that it
be in the same degree.
First, The precept may be understood as requiring
only, that we have the same kind of affection to our
fellow creatures, as to ourselves: that, as every man has
the principle of self-love, which disposes him to avoid
misery, and consult his own happiness; so we shoulo
cultivate the affection of good-will to our neighbour, and(
that it should influence us to have the same kind oW
regard to him. This at least must be commanded: and
this will not only prevent our being injurious to him, but
will also put us upon promoting his good. There are
blessings in life, which we share in common with others;
peace, plenty, freedom, healthful seasons.  But real
benevolence to our fellow creatures would give us the
notion of a common interest in a stricter sense: for in
the degree we love another, his interest, his joys and
sorrows, are our own.  It is from self-love that we form
the notion of private good, and consider it as our own:
love of our neighbour would teach us thus to appropriate
to ourselves his good and welfare, to consider ourselves
as having a real share in his happiness-. Thus the principle of benevolence would be an advocate within our
own breasts, to take care of the interests of our fellow
creatures in all the interfering and competitions which
cannot but be, from the imperfection of our nature, and
the state we are in. It would likewise, in some measure.
lessen that interfering; and hinder men from forming so
strong a notion of private good, exclusive of the good of
others, as we commonly do. Thus, as the private affection makes us in a peculiar manner sensible of humanity,
justice or injustice, when exercised towards ourselves;.ove of our neighbour would give us the same kind of
sensibility in his behalf. This would be the greatest
security of our uniform obedience to that most equitable
rule; Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you,
do ye even so unto t1iem.
All this is indeed no more than that we should have a
real love to our neighbour: but then, which is to be observed, the words, as thyself, express' this in the most
distinct manner, and determine the precept to relate to




Ia. - XL.]         OUR NEIGHBOUR.                   143
the affection itself. The advantage, which this principle
of hene-v31ence has over other remote considerations, is
that it is itself the temper of virtue: and likewise, that it
is the chief, nay the only effectual security of our perforning the several offices of kindness we owe to our
fellow  creatures.  When from  distant considerations
men resolve upon any thing to which they have no liking,
or perhaps an averseness, they are perpetually finding
out evasions and excuses; which need never be wanting,
if people look for them: and they equivocate with themselves in the plainest cases in th'1 world.  This may be
in respec.t to single determinate acts of virtue: but it
comes in much more, where the obligation is to a general course of behaviour; and inost of all, if it be such as
cannot be reduced to fixed determinate rules.  This
observation mav account for the diversity of the expression, in that known passage of the prophet Micah: to do
justly, and to love mercy.  A marn's heart must be formed
to humanity and benevolence, he must lore mercy, othlerwise he will not act nerciflll  in any settled course ot
b-ehaviour.  As consideration of the future sanctions of
religion is our only securitS of persevering in our duty,
in cases of great temptations: so to get our heart and
temper formed to a love and liking of what is good,' is
absolutely necessary in order to our behaving rightly in
the familiar and daily intercourses amongst mankind.
Secondly, The precept before us may be understood
to require, that we love our neighbour in some certain
proportion or other, according as we love ourselves.
And indeed a man's character cannot be determined by
the love he bears to his neighbour, considered absolutely:
hut the proportion which this bears to self-love, whether
it be attended to or not, is the chief thing which forms
thle character, and influences the actions..For, as the
form of the body is a composition of various parts: so
likewise our inward structure is not simple or uniform
but a composition of various passions, appetites, affections, together with rationality; including in this last
both the discernment of what is right, and a disposition
to regulate ourselves by it. There is greater variety of
parts in what we call a character, than there are features




144              UPON THE LOVi OF            [SsR. XIl
in a face: and the morality of that is no more determined
by one part, than the beauty or deformity of this is by
one single feature: each is to be judged of by all the
parts or features, not taken singly, but together.  In the
inward frame the various passions, appetites, affections;
stand in different respects to each other. The principles
in our mind may be contradictory, or checks and allays
only, or incentives and assistants to each other. And
principles, which in their nature have no kind of contrariety or affinity, may yet accidentally be each other's
allays or incentives.
From hence it comes to pass, that though.we were
able t.) look into the inward contexture of the heart, and
see with the greatest exactness in what degree any one
principle is in a particular man; we could not from
thence determine, how far that principle would go towards forming the character, or what influence it would
have upon the actions, unless we could likewise discern
what other principles prevailed in him, and see the proportion which that one bears to the others. Thus, though
two men should have the affection of compassion in the
same degree exactly: yet one may have the principle
of resentment, or of ambition so strong in him, as to
prevail over that of compassion, and prevent its having
any influence upon his action!  so that he may deserve
the character of an hard or cruel man: whereas the other
having compassion in just the same degree only, yet
having resentment or ambition in a lower degree, his
compassion may prevail over them, so as to influence his
actions, and to denominate his temper compassionate.
So that, how strange soever it may appear to people who
do not attend to the thing, yet it is quite manifest, that,
when we say one man is more resenting or compassionate
than another, this does not necessarily imply that one
has the principle of resentment or of compassion stronger
than the other. For if the proportion, which resentment
or compassion bears to other inward principles, is greater
in one than in the other; this is itself sufficient to denominate one more resenting or compassionate than the
other.
Further, the whole system, as I may speak, of affec~



sIE. XJI.j       OUR NEIGHBOUR.                145
tiols (including rationality), which constitute the heart,
as this word is used in Scripture and on moral subjects,
are each and all of them stronger in some than in others.
Now the proportion which the two general' affections,
benevolence and self-love, hear to each other, according
to this interpretation of the text, denominates men's
character as to virtue. Suppose then one man to have
the principle of benevolence in an higher degree than
another: it will not follow from hence, that his general
temper, or character, or actions, will be more benevolent
than the other's. For he may have self-love in such a
degree as quite to prevail over benevolence; so that it
may have no influence at all upon his actions; whereas
benevolence in the other person, though in a lower degree,
may yet be the strongest principle in his heart; and
strong enough to be the guide of his actions, so as to
denominate him a good and virtuous man. The case is
here as in scales: it is not one weight, considered in
itself, which determines whether the scale shall ascend
or descend; but this depends upon the proportion which
that one weight hath to the other.
It being thus manifest that the influence which benevolence has upon our actions, and how far it goes towards
forming our character, is not determined by the degree
itself of this principle in our mind; but by the proportion it has to self-love and other principles: a comparison also being made in the text between self-love and
the love of our neighbour; these joint considerations
afforded sufficient occasion for treating here of that proportion: it plainly is implied in the precept, though it
should be questioned, whether it be the exact meaning
of the words, as thyself.
Love of our neighbour then must bear some proportion
to self-love, and virtue to be sure consists in the due proportion.  What this due proportion is, whether as a
principle in the mind, or as exerted in actions, can be
judged of only from our nature and condition in this
world.  Of the degree in which affections and the principles of action, considered in themselves, prevail, we
have no measure: let us then proceed to the course of
behaviour. the actions they produce.
KL




146             UPON THE LOVE OF            IsM. XIL
Both our nature and condition require, that each particular man should make particular provision for himself:
and the inquiry, what proportion benevolence should have
to self-love, when brought down to practice, will be,
what is a competent care and provision for ourselves.
And how certain soever it be, that each man must determnine this for himself; and how ridiculous soever it
would be, for any to attempt to determine it for another:
yet it is to be observed, that the proportion is real; and
that a competent provision has a bound; and that it cannot be all which we can possibly get and keep within
our grasp, without legal injustice. Mankind almost universally bring in vanity, supplies for what is called a life
of pleasure, covetousness, or imaginary notions of supe-.riority over others, to determine this question: but every
one who desires to act a proper part in society, would
do well to consider, how far any of them come in to
determine it, in the way of moral consideration. All
that can be said is, supposing, what, as the world goes,
is so much to be supposed that is scarce to be mentioned,
that persons do not neglect what they really owe t{o
themselves; the more of their care and thought, and of
their fortune, they employ in doing good to their fellow
creatures, the nearer they come up to the law of perfection, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.
Thirdly, if the words, as thyself, were to be understood
of an equality of affection; it would not be attended with
those consequences, which perhaps may be thought to
follow from it.  Suppose a person to have the same settled regard to others, as to himself; that in every deli-,berate scheme or pursuit he took their interest into the
account in the same degree as his own, so far as an
equality of affection would produce this: yet he would in
fact, and ought to be, much more taken up and employed,about himself, and his own concerns, than about others,.and their interests. For, besides the one common affec,.tion toward himself and his neighbour, he would have:several other particular affections, passions, appetites,
which he could not possibly feel in common both for
himself and others: now these sensations themselves
very much employ us; and have perhaps as great influ



Sn. XI.l          OUR NEIGHBOUR.                  147
ence as seif-love.  So far indeed as self-love, and cool
reflection upoil what is for our interest, would set us on
work to gain a supply of' our own several wants; so far
the love of our neighbour wouldl make us dlo the sante
for him: but the degree in which we are put upon seeking and making use of the means of gratification, by the
feeling of those affections; appetites, and passions, must
necessarily be peculiar to ourselves.
That there are particular passions (.suppose shame,
resentment,) which men seem to have, and feel in common, both for themselves and others, makes no alteration in respect to those passions and appetites which
cannot possibly be thus felt in common. From hence
(and perhaps more things of the like kind might be
mentioned) it follows, that though there were an equality
of affection to both, yet regard to ourselves, would be
more prevalent than attention to. the concerns of others.
And from moral considerations it ought to be so, supposing still the equality of affection commanded: because
we are in a peculiar manner, as I may speak, intrusted
with ourselves; and therefore care of our own interests,
as well as of our conduct, particularly bl!ongs to, us.
To these things must be added, that mnoral obligations
can extend no further than to natural possibilities. Now
we have a perception of our own interests, like consciousrness of our own existence, which we always carry
about with us; and which, in its continuation, kind, and
degree, seems impossible to be felt in respect to the interests of others.
From all these things it fully appears, that though we
were to love our neighbour in the same degree as we
love ourselves, so far as this is possible; yet the care of
ourselves, of the individual, would not be neglected; the
apprehended danger of which seems to be the only objection against understanding the precept in this strict
sense.
III. The general temper of mind which the due love
of our neighbour would fbirm us to, and the influence it
would have upon our behaviour in life, is now- to be
considered.
The temper and behaviour of charity is explained at
KtI




148              UPON  rHE LOVE OF    [         s,. xt
large, in that known passage of St Paul:'* Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not,'othh not
behave itself unseemly, seekheth not her own, lthinketh nc
evil, beareth all things, believet/ h atl thinys, hop eth all things.
As to the meaning of the expressions, seeketh not her
own, thinketh no evil, believeth al,' things; however those
expressions may be explained away, this meekness, and
in some degree easiness of temper, readiness to forego
our right for the sake of peace, as well as in the way of
compassion, freedom frorn mistrust, and disposition to
believe well of our neighbour, this general temper, I
say, accompanies, and is plainly the effect of love and
good-will.  And, though such is the world in.Awhich we
live, that experience and knowledge of it not only mayv,
but must beget in us greater regard to ourselves, and
doubtfulness of the characters of others, than is natural
to mankind; yet these ought not to be carried flirther
than the nature and course of things make necessary.
It is still true, even in the p-esent state of things, bad as
it is, that a real good man had rather be deceived,. than
be suspicious; had rather forego his known right, than
run the venture of doing even a hard thing. This is the
general temper of that charity, of which the apostle
asserts, that if he had it not, giving his body to be burned
would avail him nothing; and which he says shall never
fail.
The happy influence of this temper extends to every
different relation and circumstance in human life. It
plainly renders a man better, more to be desired, as
to all the respects and relations we can stand in to
each other. The benevolent man is disposed to make
use of all external advantages in such a manner as
shall contribute to the good of others, as well as to his
own satisfaction.  His own satisfaction consists in this.
He will be easy and kind to his dependents, compassionate to the poor and distressed, friendly to all with
whom he has to do. This includes the good neighbour,
parent, master, magistrate: and such a behaviour would
plainly make dependence, inferiority, and even servitude,
easy.  So that a good or charitable man of superior rank
* 1 Cor. A.




8Lm XII.          OUR NEIGHBOUR.                 149
in wisdom, fortune, authority, is a common blessing to
the place he lives in: happiness grows under his influence.  This good principle in inferiors would discover
itself in paying respect, gratitude, obedience, as due.  It
were therefore, methinks, one just way of trying one's
own character, to ask ourselves, am I in reality a better
master or servant, a better friend, a better neighbour,
than such and such persons; whom, perhaps, I may
think not to deserve the character of virtue and religion
so much as myself?
And as to the spirit of party, which unhappily prevails
amongst mankind, whatever are the distinctions which
serve for.a supply to it, some or other of which have
obtained in all ages and countries: one who is thus
friendly to his kind will immediately make due allowances for it, as what cannot but be amongst such creatures as men, in such a world as this. And as wrath
and fury and overbearing upon these occasions proceed.
as I may speak, from men's feeling only on their own
side: so a common feeling, for others as well as for ourselves, would render us sensible to this truth, which it is
strange can have so little influence; that we ourselves
differ from others, just as much as.they do from us. I
put the matter in this way, because it can scarce be
expected that the generality of men should see, that those
things which are made the occasions of dissension and
fomenting the party-spirit, are really nothing at all: but
it may be expected from all people, how much soever
they are in earnest about their respective peculiarities,
that humanity, and common good-will to their fellow
creatures, should moderate and restrain that wretched
spirit.
This good temper of charity likewise would preverv
strife -and enmity arising from other occasions: it would:
prevent'our giving just cause of offence, and our takinrg
it without cause.  And in cases of real injury, a good
man will make all the allowances which are to be made;
and, without any attempts of' retaliation, he will only
consult his own and other men's security for the future,
against injustice and wrong.
IV. I proceed to consider lastly, what is affirmed of




150             UPON THE LOVE OF            [Am. Xlt
the precept now explained, that it comprehends in it
all others; i.'e. that to love our neighbour as ourselves
includes in it all virtues.
Now the way in which every maxim of conduct, or
general speculative assertion, when it is to be explained
at large, should be treated, is, to show what are the particular truths which were designed to be comprehended
under such a general observation, how far it is strictly
true; and then the limitations, restrictions, and exceptions, if there be exceptions, with which it is to be understood. But it is only the former of these; namely, how
far the assertion in the text holds, and the ground of
the pre-eminence assigned to the precept of it, which in
strictness comes into our present consideration.
However, in almost every thing that is said, there is
somewhat to be understood beyond what is explicitly laid
down, and which we of course supply; somewhat, I mean,
which would not be commonly called a restriction, or
limitation. _3rhus, when benevolence is said to be the
sum of virtue, it is not spoken of as a blind propension,
but as a principle in reasonable creatures, and so to be
directed by their reason: for reason and reflection come
into our notion of a moral agent.  And that will lead us
to consider distant consequences, as well as the immediate
tendency of an action: it will teach us, that the care of
some persons, suppose children and families, is particularly committed to our charge by Nature and Providence; as also that there are other circumstances, suppose
friendship or former obligations, which require that we
do good to some preferably to others. Reason, considered merely as subservient to benevolence, as assisting to produce the greatest good, will teach us to have
particular regard to these relations and circumstances;
because it is plainly for the good of the world that they
should be regarded. And as there are numberless cases,
in which, notwithstanding appearances, we are not competent judges, whether a particular action will upon the
whole do good or harm; reason in the same way will
teach us to be cautious how we act in these cases of
uncertainty. It will suggest to our consideration, which
is the safer side; how liable we are to be led wrong by




sR. XI1..         OUR NEIGHBOUR.                 151
passion an I private interest; and what regard is due to
laws, and the judgment of mankind.  All these things
must come into consideration, were it only in order to
determine which way of acting is likely to produce the
greatest good.  Thus, upon supposition that it were in
the strictest sense true, without limitation, that benevolence includes in it all virtues; yet reason must come in
as its guide and director, in order to attain its own end,
the end of benevolence, the greatest public good'; Reason then being thus included, let us now consider the
truth of the assertion itself.
First, It is manifest that nothing can be of consequence
to mankind or any creature, but happiness.,: This then
is all which any person can, in strictness of speaking, be
said to have a right to.  WVe can therefore owe no man
any thing, but only to further and promote his happiness,
according to our abilities. And therefore a disposition
and endeavour to do good to all with whom we have to
do, in the degree and manner which the different relations we stand in to them require, is a discharge of all
the obligations we are under to them.
As human nature is not one simple uniform thing,
but a composition of various parts, body, spirit, appetites,
particular passions, and affections; for each of which
reasonable self'-love would lead men to have due regard,
and make suitable provision: so society consists of various parts, to which we stand in different respects and
relations; and just benevolence would as surely lead us
to have due regard to each of these, and behave as the
respective relations require. Reasonable good-will, and
right behaviour towards our fellow creatures, are in a
manner the same: only that the former expresseth the
principle as it is in the mind; the latter, the principle as
it were become external, i. e. exerted in actions.
And so far as temperance, sobriety, and moderation in
sensual pleasures, and the contrary vices, have any respect to our fellow creatures, any influence upon their
quiet, welfare, and happiness; as they always have a
real,- and often a near influence upon it; so far it is
manifest those virtues may be produced by the love of
our neighbour, and that the contrary vices would be pre.




152                      UPON THE LOVE OF                            tSim. XII.
vented by it. Indeed if men's regard to themselves will
not restrain them from excess; it may be thought little
probable, that their love to others will be sufficient: but
the reason is, that their love to others is not, any more
than their regard to themselves, just, and in its due
degree. There are however manifest instances of persons kept sober and temperate from regard to their affairs,
and the welfare of those who depend upon them. And
it is obvious to every one, that habitual excess, a dissolute
course of life, implies a general neglect of the duties we
owe towards our friends, our families, and our country.
From hence it is manifest that the common virtues,
and the common vices of mankind, may be traced up to
benevolence, or the want of it. And this entitles the
precept, Thou  shalt love  thy neighlbour  as  thyself, to  the
pre-eminence given to it; and is a justification of the
Apostle's assertion, that all other commandments are
comprehended in it; whatever cautions and restrictions*
there are,.which might require to be considered, if we
were to state particularly and at length, what is virtue
and right behaviour in mankind. But,
Secondly, It might be added, that in a higher and
more general way of consideration, leaving out the par* For instance: as we are not competent judges, what is upon the whole for tile
good of the world, there may be other immediate ends appointed us to purllse,
besides that one of doing good, or producing happiness.  Though the good of tile
creation be the only end of the Author of it, yet lie may have laid us under particullar
obligations, which we may discern and feel ourselves under, quite distinct from a pifrception, that the observance or violation of them is for the happiness or misery of our
fellow creatures.  And this is in fact the case.  For there are certain dispositiols of
Irind, and certain actions, which are in themselves approved or disapproved by mlalukind, abstracted from the consideration of their tendency to the happiness or misery;rf the world; approved or disapproved by reflection, by that principle within, wllict
is the guide of life, the judge of right and wrong.  Numberless instances of this kilnd
might he mentioned.  There are pieces of treachery, which in themselves appear
base and detestable to every one. There are actions, which perhaps can scarce have
any other general name given them, than indecencies,  which yet are odious alni
shocking to human nature.  There is such a thing as meanness, a little mindl
which, as it is quite distinct fiom incapacity, so it raises a dislike and disapprobalioln
quite different from that contempt, which menl are too apt to have, of mere folly.
On the other hand; what we call greatness of mind is the object of another sort ot
approbation, than superior understanding.  Fidelity, honour, strict justice, are thelmselves approved in the highest degree, abstracted from the consideration of their
tendency.  Now, whether it be thought that rach of these are connected with benevolence in our nature, and so may b)e considered as the same thing with it; of
whether some of themn be thought an inferior kind of virtues and vices, somewhat
like naturai beauties and deformities; or lastly, plain exceptions to the general rule;
thus much however is certain, that the things now instanced in, and numberless
hiers, are approved or disapproved by mankind in general, in quite another view
am as coKducive to the happiness or misery of the world.




SIR. XI.]         OUR NEIGHBOUR.                 153
ticular nature of creatures, and the particular circumstances in which they are placed,'benevolence seems in
the strictest sense to include in it all that is good and
wortlhy; all that is good, which we have any distinct
particular notion of. We have no clear conception of
any positive moral attribute in the supreme Being, but
what may be resolved up into goodness.  And, if we
consider a reasonable creature or moral agent, without
regard to the particular relations and circumstances in
which he is placed; we cannot conceive any thing else
to come in towards determining whether he is to be
ranked in a higher br lower class of virtuous beings, but
the higher or lower degree in which that principle, and
what is manifestly connected with it, prevail in him.
That which we more strictly call Dietyv or the love of
God, and which is an essential part of a right temper,
some may perhaps imagine no way connected with benevolence: yet surely they must be connected, if there be
indeed in being an object infinitely good. Human nature
is so constituted, that every good affection implies the
love of itself; i. e. becomes the object of a new affection
in the same person. jThus, to be righteous, implies in it
the love of righteousness; to be benevolent, the love of
I)enevolence; to be good, the love of goodness; whether
hiis righteousness, benevolence, or goodness, be viewed
ais in our own mind, or in another's: and the love oi
(God as a being perfectly good, is the love of perfect;roodness contemplated in a being or person. Thus
mnorality and religion, virtue and piety, will at last necessarily coincide, run up into one and the same point, and
love will be in all senses the end of the commandment.
0 Almighty God, inspire us with this divine principle;
kill in us all the seeds of envy and ill-will; and help us,
by cultivating within ourselves the love of our neighbour,
to improve in the love of thee. Thou hast placed in us
various kindreds, friendships, and rflations, as the school
of discipline for our affections: help us, by the due exercise of them, to improve to perfection; till all partiaJ
affection be lost in that entire universal one, and thou, 0
God, shalt be all in all.




154            UPON'rHE LOVE OF GOD.          DSo. XIIL
SERMON  XlII. XIV.
UPON  THE LOVE OF GOD,
Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all
thy soul, and with all thy mind. —Matt. xxii.:37.
EVERY body knows, you therefore need only just be put
in mind, that there is such a thing, as having so great
horror of one extreme, as to run insensibly and of course
into the contrary; and that a doctrine's having  been a
shelter for enthusiasm, or made to s::\'ve the purposes of
superstition, is no proof of the falsity of it: truth or right
being somewhat real in itself, and so not to be judged of
by its liableness to abuse, or bv its supposed distance
from or nearness to error.  It may be sufficient to have
mentioned this in general, without taking notice of the
particular extravagancies, which have been vented under
the pretence or endeavour of' explaining the love of
God; or how manifestly we are got into the contrary
extreme, under the notion of a reasonable religion; so
very reasonable, as to have nothing to do with the heart
and affections, if these words signify any thing but the
faculty by which we discern speculative truth.
By the love of God, I would understand all those
regards, all those affections of mind which are due
immediately to him from such a creature as man, and
which rest in him as their end. As this does not include
servile fear; so neither will any other regards, how
reasonable soever, which respect any thing out of or
besides the perfection of divine nature, come into consideration here. But all fear is not excluded, because, his
displeasure is itself the natural proper object of fear.
Reverence, ambition of his love and approbation, delight
in the hope or consciousness of it, come likewise into this
definition of the love of God; because he is the natural
object of all those affections or movements of mind, as
really as he is the object of the affection, which is in the
strictest sense called love; and all of them equally rest




Sn. XIII.]     UPON THE LOVE OF GOD.             155
in him, as their end.  And they may all be understood
to be implied in these words of our Saviour, without
putting any force upon themn: for he is speaking of the
love of God and our neighbour, as containing the whole
of piety and virtue.
It is plain that the nature of man is so confstituted, as
to feel certain affections upon the sight or contemplation
of certain objects.  Now the very notion of affection implies resting in its object as an end.  And the particular
affection to good characters, reverence and moral love
of them, is natural to all those who have any degree ot
real goodness in themselves.  This will be illustrated by
the description of a perfect character in a creature; and
by considering the manner, in which a good man in his
presence would be affected towards such a character.
He would of course feel the affections of love, reverence, desire of his approbation, delight in the hope or
consciousness of it.  And surely all this is applicable,
and may be brought up to that Being, who is infinitely
more than an adequate object of all those affections:
whom we are commanded to love with ail ofur heart, with
all our soul, and with all our mind. And of these regards
towards Almighty God, some are more particularly suitable to and becoming so imperfect a creature as man, in
this mortal state we are passing through; and some of
them, and perhaps other exercises of the mind, will be
the employment and happiness of good men in a state
of perfection.
This is a general view of what the following discourse
will contain. And it is manifest the subject is a real
one: there is nothing in it enthusiastical or unreasonable.
And if it be indeed at all a subject, it is one of the utmost
importance.
As mankind have a faculty by which they discern
speculative truth; so we have various affections towards
external objects.  Understanding and temper, reason
and affection, are as distinct ideas, as reason and hunger;
and' one wotld think could no more be confounded. It
is by reason that we get the ideas of several objects of
our affections: but in these cases reason and affection
are no more the same, than sight of a particular object,




156            UPON THE LOVE OF GOD.          [SER. XtI!
and the pleasure or uneasiness consequent thereuponl
are the same.  Now, as reason tends to and rests in the
discernment of truth, the object of it; so the very nature
of affection consists in tending towards, and resting in,
its objects as an end. We do indeed often in common
language say, that things are loved, desired, esteemed,
not for themselves, but for somewhat fuirther, somewhat out of and beyond them: yet, in these cases,
whoever will attend, will see, that these things are not
in reality the objects of the affections, i. e. are not loved,
desired, esteemed, but the somewhat further and beyond
them.  If we have no affections which rest in what are
called their objects, then what is called affection, love,
desire, hope, in human nature, is only an uneasiness in
being at rest; an unquiet disposition to action, progress,
pursuit, without end or meaning.  But if there be any
such thing as delight in the company of one person,
rather than of another; whether in the way of friendship,
or mirth and entertainment, it is all one, if it be without
respect to fortune, honour, or increasing our stores of
knowledge, or any thing beyond the present time; here
is an instance of an affection absolutely resting in its
objects as its end, and being gratified in the same way as
the appetite of hunger is satisfied with food. Yet nothing
is more common than to hear it asked, what advantage
a man hath in such a course, suppose of study, particular
friendships, or in any other: nothing, I say, is more common than to hear such a question put in a way which
supposes no gain, advantage, dr interest, but as a means
to somewhat further: and if so, then there is no such
thing at all as real interest, gain, or advantage. This is
the same absurdity with respect to life, as infinite series
of effects without a cause is in speculation. The gain,
advantage, or interest, consists in the delight itself, arising from such a faculty's having its object: neither is
there any such thing as happiness or enjoyment, but
what arises from hence. The pleasures of hope and of
reflection are not exceptions: the former being only this
happiness anticipated; the latter, the same happiness
enjoyed over again after its time.  And  even  the
general expectation of future happiness can afford




Sia. XIII.]      UPON THE LOVE OF GOD.                 157
satisfaction, only as it is a present object to the principle
of self-love.
It was doubtless intended, that life should be very
much a pursuit to the gross of mankind.  But this is
carried so much further than is reasonable, that what
gives immediate satisfaction, i. e. our present interest, is
scarce considered as our interest at all.  It is inventions
which have only a remote tendency towards enjoyment,
perhaps but a remote  telndency  towards gaining the
means only of enjoyment, which are chiefly spoken of
as useful to the world.  And though this way of thinking were just with respect to the imperfect state we are
now in, where we know so little of satisfaction without
satiety; yet it must be guarded against, when we are considering the happiness of a state of perfection; which happiness being enjoyment and not hope, must necessarily
consist in this, that our affections have their objects, and
rest in those objects as an end, i. e. be satisfied with them.
This will further appear in the sequel of this discourse.
Of the several affections, or inward sensations, which
particular objects excite in man, there are some, the
having of which implies the love of them, when they are
reflected upon.* This cannot be said of all our affections, principles, and motives of action.  It were ridiculous to assert, that a man upon reflection hath the
same kind of approbation of the appetite of hunger, or
the passion of fear, as he hath of good-will to his fellow
creatures. To be a just, a good, a righteous man, plainly
carries with it a peculiar affection to or love of justice,
goodness, righteousness, when these principles are the
objects of contemplation. Now if a mlan approves of,
or hath an affection to, any principle in and for itself,
incidental things allowed for, it will be the same whether
he views it in his own mind, or in another; in himself,
or in his neighbour. This is the account of our approbation of, our moral love and affection to good characters;
which  cannot but be in those who have any degrees
* St Austin observes, Amor ipse ordinate amandus est, quo bene amatur quod
amandum est, ut sit in nobis virtus qui vivitur bene, i. e. The affction which we
tightly havefor what is lovely, must ordinate justly, in due manner and proportion,
bonm the object of a new affection, or be itself beloved, in order to our being endued
ai that vitue which. is the principle of a good life. Civ. Dei. 1. xv. c. 22.




158           UPON THE LOVE OF GOD.          [SER. XilII
of real goodness in themselves, and who discern and
take notice of the same princ:ple in others.
From observation of what passes within ourselves, our
own actions, and the behaviour of others, the mind nmay
carry on its reflections as far as it pleases; much beyond
wlhat we experience in ourselves, or discern in our fellow
(:,eatures. It may go on, and consider goodness as become, uniform continued principle of action, as conducted by'reason, and forming a temper and character absolutely
good and perfect, which is in a higher sense excellent,
and proportionably the object of love and approbation.
Let us then suppose a creature perfect according to
hiis created nature; let his form be human, and his calpacities no more than equal to those of the chief of men:
goodness shall be his proper character; with wisdom to
(lirect it, and power within some certain determined
sphere of action to exert it; but goodness must be the
simple actuating principle within him; this being tlthe
moral quality which is amiable, or the immediate object
of love as distinct from other affections of approbation.
Here then is a finite object for our mind to tend towards,
to exercise itself upon: a creature, perfect according to
his capacity, fixed, steady, equally unmoved by weak plity
or more weak fury and resentment; forming the just(st
scheme of conduct; going on undisturbed in the execution
of it, through the several methods of severity and reward,
towards his end, namely, the general happiness of all with
whom he hath to do, as in itself right and valuable. This
character, though uniform in itself, in its principle, yet
exerting  itself in different ways, or considered  in
different views, may by its appearing variety move different
affections. Thus, the severity of justice would not affect us
in the same s ay as an act of mercy: the adventitious
qualities of wisdom and power may be considered in
themselves: and even the strength of mind, which this
immoveable goodness supposes, may likewise be viewed
as an object of contemplation, distinct from the goodness
itself. Superior excellence of any kind, as well as superior
wisdom and power, is the object of awe and reverence to
1l creatures, whatever their moral character be: but so
iar as creatures of the lowest rank were good, so far the




mS. XIIL.]    UPON THE LOVE OF GOD.             159
view of this character, as simply good, must appear amiable to them, be the object of, or beget love.  Further,
suppose we were conscious, that this superior person so
far approved of us, that we had nothing servilely to fear
from him; that he was really our friend, and kind and
good to us in particular, as he had occasionally intercourse with us: we must be other creatures than we are,
or we could not but feel the same kind of satisfaction
and enjoyment (whatever would be the degree of it)
from this higher acquaintance and friendship, as we feel
from common ones; the intercourse being real, and the
persons equally present, in both cases. We should have
a more ardent.desire to be approved by his better judgment, and a satisfaction in that approbation of the same
sort with what would be felt in respect to common persons, or be wrought in us by their presence.
Let us now raise the character, and suppose this creature, for we are still going on with the supposition of a
creature, our proper guardian and governor; that we
were in a progress of being towards somewhat further;
and that his scheme of governmnent was too vast for our
capacities to comprehend: rernembering still that he is
perfectly good, and our friend as well as our governor.
Wisdom, power,.goodness, accidentally viewed any
where, would inspire reverence, awe, love: and as these
affections would be raised in higher or lower degrees, in
proportion as we had occasionally more or less intercourse
with the creature endued with those qualities; so this
further consideration and knowledge, that he was our
proper guardian and governor, would much more bring
these objects and qualities home to ourselves; teach us
they had a greater respect to us in particular, that we had a
higher interest in that wisdom and power and goodness.
We should, with joy, gratitude, reverence, love, trust,
and dependence, appropriate the character, as what we
had a right in; and make our boast in such our relation to
it.  And the conclusion of the whole would be, that we
should refer ourselves implicitly to him, and cast ouraselves entirely upon him.  As the whole attention of life
should be to obey his commands; so the ighliest enjoyment of it must arise from the contemplation of this cha



160           UPON THE LOVE OF GOD.         [Sm. XIII.
racter, and our relation to it, from a consciousness of his
favour and approbation, and from the exercise of those
affections towards him which could not but be raised
from his presence. A Being who hath these attributes,
who stands in this relation, and is thus sensibly present
to the mind, must necessarily be the objcct of these affections: there is as real a correspondence between them, as
between the lowest appetite of sense and its object.
That this being is not a creature, but the Almighty
God; that he is of infinite power and wisdom and goodness, does not render him less the object of reverence
and love, than he would be if he had those attributes only
ii a limited degree. The being who made us, and upon
whom we entirely depend, is the object of some regards.
lie hath given us certain affections of mind, which correspond to wisdom, power, goodness; i. e. which are
raised upon view of those qualities. If then he be really
wise, powerful, good; he is the natural object of those
affections, which he has endued us with, and which correspond to those attributes. That he is infinite in power,
perfect in wisdom and goodness, makes no alteration, but
only that he is the object of those affections raised to the
highest pitch. He is not indeed to be discerned by any
of our senses. I go Jbrward, but he is not there; and
backward, but I cannot perceive him: on the leJt hand where
lie doth work, but I cannot behold him: he hideth himselJ
on the right hand, that I cannot see him.  0 that I knew
where I might find him   that I might come even to his
seat!*  But is he then afar offP does he not fill heaven
and earth with his presence P The presence of our fellow creatures affects our senses, and our senses give us
the knowledge of their presence; which hath different
kinds of influence upon us; love, joy, sorrow, restraint,
encouragement, reverence. However this influence is
hot immediately from our senses, but from that knowledge. Thus suppose a person neither to see nor hear
another, not to know by any of his senses, but yet certainly to know, that another was with him; this knowledge might, and in many cases would, have one or more,f the effects before mentioned.  It is therefore not only
*Job,. xxii




IsMR XIII.1    UPON THE LOVE OF GOD.            161
reasonable, but also natural, to be affected with a presence, though it be not the object of our senses: whether
it be, or be not, is merely an accidental circumstance,
which needs not come into consideration: it is the certainty that he is with us, and we with him, which hath
the influence. We consider persons then as present,
not only when they are within reach of our senses, but
also when we are assured by any other means that they
are within such a nearness; nay, if they are not, we can
recall them to our mind, and be moved towards them as
present: and must He, who is so much more intimately
with us, that in hint we live and move and have our being,
be thought too distant to be the object of our affections?
We own and feel the force of amiable and worthy qualities in our fellow creatures: and can we be insensible
to the contemplation of perfect goodness? Do we reverence the shadows of greatness here below, are we solicitous about honour and esteem and the opinion of the
world: and shall we not feel the same with respect to
hitm, whose are wisdom  and power in their original, who
is the God ojf jud.qmevt by whom actions are weighed?
Thus love, reverence, desire of esteem, every faculty,
every affection, tends towards, and is employed about its
respective object in common cases: and must the exercise of them be suspended with regard to him alone,
who is an object, ali infinitely more than adequate object,
to our most exalted faculties; him, of whom, and through
whom, and to whU/o  are all things?
A-s.we cannot remove from this earth, or change our
general business on it, so neither can we alter our real
nature.  Therefore no exercise of the mind can be recommended, but only the exercise of those faculties you
are conscious of. Religion does not demand new affections, but onlv claims the direction of those you already
have, those affections you daily feel; though unhappily
confined to objects, not altogether unsuitable, but altogether unequal to them. We only represent to you the
higher, the adequate objects of those very faculties and
affections. Let the man of ambition go on still to consider disgrace as the greatest evil; honour, as his chief
good.;But disgrace, in whose estimation?  Honour, m
L




162           UPON THE LOVE OF GOU,        uSm. XIII
whose judgment? This is the only question. If shame
and delight in esteem, be spoken of as real, as any settled ground of pain or pleasure; both these must. be ih
proportion to the supposed wisdom and worth of him,
by whom we are contemned or esteemed.  Must it then
be thought enthusiastical to speak of a sensibility of this
sort, which shall'have respect to an unerring judgment,
to infinite wisdom; when we are assured this unerring
judgment, this infinite wisdom, does observe upon our
actions?
It is the same with respect to the love of God in the
strictest and most confined sense.  We only offer and
represent the highest object of an affection, supposed
already in your mind. Some degree of goodness must
be previously supposed: this always implies the love of
itself, an affection to goodness: the highest, the adequate
object of this affection. is perfect goodness; which therefore we are to love with all our leart, with all our soul,
and with all our strength.  "Mlust we, then, forgetting
our own interest, as it were go out of ourselves, and
love God for his own sake?"  No more forget your
own interest, no more go out of yourselves, than when
voul prefer one place, one prospect, the conversation of
one man to that of another.  Does not every affection
necessarily imply, that the object of it be itself loved?
If it be not, it is not the object of the affection.  You
may and ought if you can, but it is a great mistake to
think you can love or fear or hate any thing, from consideration that such love or fear or hatred may. be a
mearns of obtaining good or avoiding evil. But the ques-:tion, whether we ought to love God for his sake or for
our own, being a mere mistake in language; the real
question, which this is mistaken for, will, I suppose,
be answered by observing, that the goodness of God
already exercised towards us, our present dependence.upon him, and our expectation of future benefits, ought,
and have a natural tendency, to beget in us the affection
of gratitude, and greater love towards him, than the same:goodness exercised towards others: were it only for this
reason, that every affection is moved in proportion to
the sense we have of the object of it; and we cannot but




SEa. IXV.]     UPON THE LOVE OF GOD.            163
have a more lively sense of goodness, when exercised
towards ourselves, than when exercised towards others.
I added expectation of future benefits, because the ground
of that expectation is present goodness.
Thus Almighty God is the natural object of the several affections, love, reverence, fear, desire of approbation.
{for though he is simply one, yet we cannot but consider
himn in partial and different views. He is in himself one
uniform being, and for ever the same without variableness or shadow of turning: but his infinite greatness, llis
goodness, his wisdom, are different objects to our rnind.
To which is to be added, that from the changes in our
characters, together with his unchangeableness, we callnot but consider ourselves as more or less the objects of
his approbation, and really be so.  For if he approves
what is good, he cannot, merely from the unchangeableness of his nature, approve what is evil.  Hence must
arise more various movements of mind, more different
kinds of affections. And this greater variety also is just
and reasonable in such creatures as we are, though it
respects a Being simply one, good and perfect. As some
of these affections are most particularly suitable to so
imperfect a creature as man, in this mortal state we are
passing through; so there may be other exercises of
mind, or some of these in higher degrees, our employment and happiness in a state of perfection.
SERMON XIV
CONSIDER then our ignorance, the imperfection of our
nature, our virtue and our condition in this world, with
respect to an infinitely good and just Being, our Creator
and Governor; and you will see what religious affections
of mind are most particularly suitable to this mortal state
we are passing through.
Though we are not affected with any thing so strongly,
as what we discern with our senses; and though our
nature and condition require, that we be much taken up
about sensible things; yet our reason convinces us that




164           UPON TIi L LOV'  OF GOD.       [SR. XI.
God is present with us, and we see and feel the effects
of his goodness: he is therefore the object of some
regards. The imperfection of our virtue, joined with the
consideration of his absolute rectitude or holiness, will
scarce permit that perfection of love, which entirely casts
out all fear: yet goodness is the object of love to all
creatures who have any degree of it themselves; and
consciousness of a real endeavour to approve ourselves
to him, joined with the consideration of his goodness, as
it quite excludes servile dread and horror, so it is plainly
a reasonable ground for hope of his favour.  Neither
fear, nor hope, nor love then are excluded: and one or
another of these will prevail, according to the difteret:t
views we have of God; and ought to prevail, according
to the changes we find in our own character. There is
a temper of mind made up of, or which follows from all
three, fear, hope, love; namely, resignation to the divine
will, which is the general temper belonging to this state;
which ought to be the habitual frame of our mind and
heart, and to be exercised at proper seasons more distinctly, in acts of devotion.
Resignation to the will of God is the whole of piety:
it includes in it all that is good, and is a source of the
most settled quiet and composure of mind. There is
the general principle of submission in our nature. Man
is not so constituted as to desire things, and be uneasy
in the want of them, in proportion to their known value:
many other considerations come in to determine the
degrees of desire; particularly whether the advantage we
take a view of be within the sphere of our rank. Who
ever felt uneasiness, upon observing any of the advantages brute creatures have over us P And yet it is plain
they have several. It is the same with. respect to advantages belonging to creatures of a superior order. Thus
though we see a thing to be highly valuable, yet that it
does not belong to our condition of being, is sufficient to
suspend our desires after it, to make us rest satisfied
without such advantage. Now there is just the same
reason for quiet resignation in the want of every thing
equally unattainable, and out of our reach in particular,
though others of our species lec possessed of it. All this




a. xlvA.      UPON' THE LOVE OF GOD.           165
may be applied to the whole of life; to positive inco.aveniences as well as wants; not indeed to the sensations of
pain and sorrow, but to all the uneasinesses of reflection
murmuring, and discontent. Thus is human nature
formed to compliance, yielding, submission of temper.
We find the principles of it within us; and every one
exercises it towards some objects or other; i. e. feels it
with regard to some persons, and some circumstances.
Now th.is is an excellent foundation of a reasonable and
religious resignation. Nature teaches and inclines us to
take up with our lot: the consideration, that the course
of things is unalterable, hath a tendency to quiet the mind
under it, to beget a submission of temper to it. But
when we can add, that this unalterable course is appointed
and continued by infinite wisdom and goodness; how
absolute should be our submission, how entire our trust
and dependence!
This would reconcile us to our condition; prevent alt
the supernumerary troubles arising from imagination,
distant fears, impatience; all uneasiness, except that
which necessarily arises from the calamities themselves
we may be under. How many of our cares should we
by this means be disburdened of! Cares not properly
our own, how apt soever they may be to intrude upon
is, and we to admit them; the anxieties of expectation,
solicitude about success and disappointment, which in
tluth are none of our concern.  How open to every
gratification would that mind be, which was clear of these
encumbrances!
Our r.esignation to the will of God may be said to be
perfect, when our will is lost and resolved up into his;
when we rest in his will as our end, as being itself most
just, and right, and good. And where is the impossibility
of such an affection to what is just, and right, and good.
such a loyalty of heart to the Governor of the universe,
as shall prevail over all sinister indirect desires of our
own?  Neither is this at bottom any thing more than
faith, and honesty, and fairness of mind; in a more enlarged sense indeed, than those words are commonly
used. And as in common cases, fear and hope and
other passions are raised in us by their respective




166           UPON THE LOVE OF GOD.          [SER. XIV
objects: so this submission of heart and soul and mind,
this religious resignation, would be as naturally produced
by our having just conceptions of Almighty God, and a
real sense of his presence with us. In how low a degree
soever this temper usually prevails amongst men, yet it is
a temper right in itself: it is what we owe to our Creator:
it is' particularly suitable to our mortal condition, and
what we should endeavour after for our own sakes in
our passage through such a world as this; where is
nothing upon which we can rest or depend; nothing but
what we are liable to be deceived and disappointed in.'Thlts we might acquaint ourselves with God, and be at
peace.  This is piety and religion in the strictest sense,
considered as an habit of n mind; an habitual sense of
God's presence with us; being affected towards him, as
present, in the manner his superior nature requires from
such a creature as man: this is to walk with God.
Little more need be said of devotion or religious worship, than that it is this temper exerted into act.  The
nature of it consists in the actual exercise of those affections towards God, which are supposed habitual in good
men. I le is always equally present with us: but we are
so much taken up with sensible things, that Lo, he goeth
by us, and we see him not: he passeth on also, but we perceive hiAm not.*  Devotion is retirement, from the world
lie has made, to him  alone: it is to withdraw fromn the
avocations of sense, to employ our attention wholly upon
him as upon an object actually present, to yield ourselves
up to the influence of the divine presence, and to give
full scope to the affections of gratitude, love, reverence,
trust, and dependence; of which infinite power, wisdom,
and goodness, is the natural and only adequate object.
We may apply to the whole of devotion those words of
thle son of Sirach, JThen you glorifjy the Lord, exalt himt
~.as much as you can; Jbr even yet will he far exceed; and
when you exalt him, put jbrlth all your strength, and be
not weary; Jbr you can never go far enough.t  Our most
raised affections of everv kind cannot but fall short and
be disproportionate, when an infinite Being is the object
of them. This is the hihllest exercise and employment of
* Job ix.'II...,'clus. xiiii. 30.




sER. Xlv.]     UPON THE LOVE OF GOD.             167
mind that a creature is capable of. As this divine service
and worship is itself absolutely due to God, so also is it
necessary in order to a further end, to.keep alive upon
our minds a sense of his authority, a sense that ill our
ordinary behaviour amongst men we act under him as
our governor and judge.
Thus you see the temper of mind respecting God,
which is particularly suitable to a state of imperfection;
to creatures in a progress of being towards somewhat
further,
Suppose now this something further attained; that we
were arrived at it: what a perception will it be, to see
and know and feel that our trust was not vain, our dependence not groundless? that the issue, event, and.
consummation came out such as fully to justify and
answer that resignation? If the obscure view of the
divine perfection, which we have in this world, ought in
Just consequence to beget an entire resignation; what
will this resignation be exalted into, when we shall see
face tofilce, and know as we are known?  If we cannot
form any distinct notion of that perfection of the love of
God, which casts out alifar; of that enjoyment of him,
which will bie the happiness of good men hereafter; the
consideration of our wants and capacities of happiness,
and that he will be an adequate supply to them, must
serve us instead of such distinct conception of the particular happiness itself.
Let us then suppose a man entirely disengaged from
business and pleasure, sitting down alone and at leisure,
to reflect upon himself and his own condition of being.
He would immediately feel that he was by no means
complete of' himself, but totally insufficient for his own
happiness. One may venture to affirm, that every man
hath felt this, whether he hath again reflected upon it or
not.  It is feeling this deficiency, that they are unsatisfied with themselves, which makes mnen look out for
assistance from abroad; and which has given rise to
various kinds of amusements, altogether needless any
otherwise than as they serve to fill up the blank spaces
of time, and so hinder their feeling this deficienicy, and
being uneasy with themselves.  Now, if these external




168           UPON THE LOVE OP GOD.          [SER. XIV
things we take up with were really an adequate supply
to this deficiency of human nature, if by their means our.
capacities and desires were all satisfied and filled up;
then it might be truly said, that we had found out the
proper happiness of man; and so might sit down satisfied,
and be at rest in the enjoyment of it.  But if it
appears, that the amusements, which men usually pass
their time in, are so far from coming up to or answering
our notions and desires of happiness, or good, that they
are really no more than what they are commonly called,
somewhat to pass away the time; i. e. somewhat which
serves to turn us aside from, and prevent our attending to,
this our internal poverty and want; if they serve only,
or chiefly, to suspend, instead of satisfying our conceptions and desires of happiness; if the want remains, and
we have found out little more than barely the means of
making it less sensible; then are we still to seek for
somewhat to be an adequate supply to it.  It is plain
that there is a capacity in the nature of man, which
neither riches, nor honours, nor sensual gratifications,
nor any thing in this world can perfectly fill up, or satisfy:
there is a deeper and more essential want, than any
of these things can be the supply of  Yet surely there
is a possibility of somewhat, which may fill up all our
capacities of happiness; somewhat, in which our souls
may find rest; somewhat, which may be to us that
satisfactory good we are inquiring after. But it cannot
be any thing which is valuable only as it tends to some
further end. Those therefore who have got this world sc
much into their hearts, as not to be able to consider happiness as consisting in any thing but property and possessions, which are only valuable as the means to somewhat else, cannot have the least glimpse of the subject
before us; which is the end, not the means; the thing
itself, not somewhat in order to it.  But if you can lay
aside that general, confused, undeterminate notion of
happin'ess, as consisting in such possessions; and fix in
your thoughts, that it really can consist in nothing but in
a faculty's having its proper object; you will clearly see,
that in'the coolest way of consideration, without either
the heat of fancifll enthusiasm, or the warmth of real




Sta.':XIV.]   UPON THE LOVE OF GOD.             169
devotion, nothing is more certain, than that an infinite
Being may himself be, if he pleases, the supply to all the
capacities of our nature.  All the common enjoyments
of life are from the faculties he hath endued us with, a-nl
the objects he hath made suitable to them.  He maty
himself be to us infinitely more than all these: he may
be to us all that we want.  As our understanding cpn
contemplate itself, and our affections be exercised upon
themselves by reflection, so may each be employed in
the same manner upon any other mind: and since the
supreme Mind, the Author and Cause of all things, is
the highest possible object to himself, he may be an
adequate supply to all the faculties of our souls; a subject to our understanding, and an object to our affections.
Consider then: when we shall have put off this mortal body, when we s'hall be divested of sensual appetites.
and those possessions which are now the means of gratification shall be of no avail; when this restless scene of
business and vain pleasures, which now diverts us from
ourselves, shall be all over; we, our proper self, shall
still remain: we shall still continue the same creatures
we are, with wants to be supplied, and capacities of
happiness.  We  must have faculties of perception,
though not sensitive ones; and pleasure or uneasiness
from our perceptions, as now we have.
There are certain ideas, which we express by the
words, order, harmony, proportion, beauty, the furthest
removed from any thing sensual.  Now what is there in
those intellectual images, forms, or ideas, which begets
that approbation, love, delight, and even rapture, which
is seen in some persons' faces upon having those objects
present to their mindsP —" Mere enthusiasm!"-Be it
what it will: there are objects, works of nature and of
art, which all mankind have delight from, quite distinct
from their affording gratification to sensual appetites; and
from quite another view of them, than as being for their
interest and further advantage. The faculties from which
we are capable of these pleasures, and the pleasures
themselves, are as natural, and as much to be accounted
for, as any sensual appetite whatever, and the pleasure
from its gratification. Words to be sure are wanting upoin




170            UPON THE LOVE OF GOD.       [SmR. XIV.
this subject: to say, that every thing of grace and beauty,
throughout the whole of nature, every thing excellent
and amiable shared in differently lower degrees by the
whole creation, meet in the Author and Cause of alli
things; this is an inadequate, and perhaps improper way
of speaking of the divine nature: but it is manifest that
absolute rectitude, the perfection of being, must be in all
senses, and in every respect, the highest object to the
mind.
IlA this world it is only the effects of wisdom, and power,
and greatness, which we discern: it is not impossible, that
hereafter the qualities themselves in the supreme Being
may be the immediate object of contemplation.  What
amazing wonders are opened to view by late improvements! What an object is the universe'to a creature, if
there be a creature who can comprehend its system! But it
must be an infinitely higher exercise of the understanding,
to view the scheme of it in that mind, which projected it,
before its foundations were laid. And surely we have
meaning to the words, when we speak of going further;
and viewing, not only this system in his mind, but the
wisdom and intelligence itself from whence it proceeded.
The same may be said of power. But since wisdom and
power are not God, he is a wise, a powerful Being; the
divine nature may therefore be a further object to the
understanding.  It is nothing to observe that our senses
give us but an imperfect knowledge of things: e ffe
themselves, if we knew them thoroughly, would give us
but imperfect notions of wisdom and power; much less
of his Being, in whom they reside. I am not speaking
of any fanciful notion of seeing all things in God; but
only representing to you, how much an higher object to
the understanding an infinite Being himself is, than the
things which he has made: and this is no more than
saying, that the Creator is superior to the works of his
hands.
This may be illustrated by a low example. Suppose
a machine, the sight of which would raise, and discoveries
in its contrivance gratify, our curiositv: the real delight,
in this case, would arise from Its being the effect of skill
and contrivance. This skill il the mind of the artificer




SER, XIV.]     UPON THE LOVE OF GOD.              171
would be an Iigher object, if we had any senses or ways
to discern it. For, observe, the contemplation of that
principle, faculty, or power which produced any effect,
must be an higher exercise of the understanding, than
the contemplation of the effect itself. The cause must
be an higher object to the mind than the effect.
But whoever considers distinctly what the light of
knowledge is, will see reason to be satisfied that it cannot be the chief good of man: all this, as it is applicable,
so it was mentioned with regard to the attribute of goodness. I say, goodness. Our being and all our enjoyInents are the effects of it: just men bear its resemblance:
but haw little do we know of the original, of what it is in
itself? Recall what was before observed concerning the
affection to moral characters; which, in how low a degree
soever, yet is plainly natural to man, and the most
excellent part of his nature: suppose this improved, as it
may be improved, to any degree whatever, in the spirits
of just men made perfect; and then suppose that they had
a real view of that righteousness, whlich is an everlasting
righteousness; of the conformity of the divine will to the
law of' truth, in which the moral attributes of God consist; of that goodness in the sovereign Mind, which gave
birth to the universe: add, what will be true of all good
men hereafter, a consciousness of having an interest in
what they are contemplating; suppose them able to say,
This God is our God fbr ever' and ever: would they be
any longer to seek for what was their chief happiness,
their final good?  Could the utmost stretch of their
capacities look further?  Would not infinite perfect
goodness be their very end, the last end and object of
their affections; beyond which they could neither have.
nor desire; beyond which they could not form a wish or
thought P
Consider wherein that presence of a friend consist.,
which has often so strong an effect, as wholly to posses;
the mind, and entirely suspend all other affections an(t
regards; and which tself affords the highest satisfaction
and enjoyment. He is within reach of the senses. Now,
as our capacities of perception improve, we shall have,
perhaps by some, faculty entirely new, a perception of




172           UPON THE LOVE OF GOD          [SIS. XIV
God s presence with us in a nearer and stricter way,
since it is certain he is more intimately present with us
than any thing else can be.  Proof of the existence and
presence of any being is quite different from the immediate
perception, the consciousness of it. What then will be
the joy of heart, which his presence, and the light of his
countenance, who is the life of the universe, will inspire
good men with, when they shall have a sensation, that
he is the sustainer of their being, that they exist in him;
when they shall feel his influence to cheer and enliven
and support their frame, in a manner of which we have
now no conceptionP lie will be in a literal sense their
strength and their portion for ever.
When we speak of things so much above our comprehension, as the employment and happiness of a future
state, doubtless it behoves us to speak with all modesty
and distrust of ourselves.  But the Scripture represents
the happiness of that state under the notions of seeing
God, seeing him as he is, knowing as we are known, and
seeing face to face.  These words are not general or
undetermined, but express a particular determinate
happiness. And I will be bold to say, that nothing can
account for, or come up to these expressions, but only
this, that God himself will be an object to our faculties,
that he himself will be our happiness; as distinguished
from the enjoyments of the present state, which seem to
arise, not immediately from him, but from the objects he
has adapted to give us delight.
To conclude: Let us suppose a person tired with care
and sorrow and the repetition of vain delights which fill
up the round of life; sensible that every thing here below
in its best estate is altogether vanity. Suppose him to
feel that deficiency of human nature, before taken notice
of; and to be convinced that God alone was the adequate
supply to it. What could be more applicable to a good
man in this state of mind; or better express his present
wants and distant hopes, his passage through this world
as a progress towards a state of perfection, than the
following passages in the devotions of the royal prophetP
TI'hey are plainly in an higher and more proper sense
applicable to this, than they could be to any thing ele




am XV.]     UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN.              173
I have seen an end of all perfection.  Whom  have I in
heaven but thee?  And there is none utgn  earth that 1
desire in comparison of thee. Myfleesh cazd my heart faileth:
but God is the strength o/f my heart, and my portion for
ever.  Like as the hart desireth the iwaier-brooks, so longeth
my soul after thee, 0 God.  Mlly soul is athirst for God,
yea, even for the living God: when shall I come to appear
before him?  How excellent is thy loving-kindness, 0 God!
and the children of men shall put their, trust under the
shadow  of thy wings.  They shall be satisfied with the
plenteousness of thy house: and thou shalt give themn dri, k
of thy pleasures, as out of the river.  For with thee is the
well of life: and in thy light shall we see light.  Blessed
is the man whom thou choosest, and receivest unto thee: he
shall dwell in thy court, and shall be satisfied witha the
pleasures of thy house, even of thy holy temple.  Blessed
is the people, 0 Lord, that can rejoice in thee: they shall
walk in the light of' thy countenance.  Their delight shall
be daily in thy name, and in thy righteousness shall they
make their boast.  For thou art the glory of their strength:
and in thy loving-kindness they shall be exalted. As for
me, I will behold thy presence in righteousness: and when
I awake up after thy likeness, I shall be satisfied with it.
Thou shalt'shew me the path of life; in thy presence is the
fulness of joy, and at thy right hand there is pleasure for
evermore.
SERMON XV.
UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN.
When I applied mine heart to know wisdom, and to see the business
that is done upon the earth: then I beheld all the work of God, that
a man cannotfind out the work that is done under the sun: because
though a man labour to seek it out, yet he shall notfind it; yea
further, though a wise man think to know it, yet shall he not be
able tofind it. —Eccles. viii. 16, 17.
THE writings of Solomon are very much taken up with
reflections upon human nature and human life; to which
he hath added, in this hook, reflections upon the consti



. 4~      UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN.    [as. XV.
tution of things.  And it is not improbable, that the
little satisfaction and the great difficulties he met with in
his researches into the general constitution of nature,
might be the occasion of his confining himself, so much
as he hath done, to life and conduct. However, upon
that joint review he expresses great ignorance of the
works of God, and the method of his providence in the
government of the world; great labour and weariness in
the search and observation he had employed himself
about; and great disappointment, pain, and even vexation
of mind, upon that which he had remarked of the appearances of things, and of what was going forward upon this
earth. This whole review and inspection, and the result
of it, sorrow, perplexity, a sense of his necessary ignoruance, suggests various reflections to his mind. But, notwithstanding all this ignorance and dissatisfaction, there
is somewhat upon which he assuredly rests and depends;
somewhat, which is the conclusion of the whole matter,
and the only concern of man. Following this his method
an4l train of reflection, let us consider,
I. The assertion of the text, the ignorance of man; that
thle wisest and most knowing cannot comprehend the
Nways and works of God: and then,
II. What are the just consequences of this observalion and knowledge of our own ignorance, and the ref!ections which it leads us to.
1. The wisest and most knowing cannot'comprehend
the works of God, the methods and designs of his provilence in the creation and government of the world.
Creation is absolutely and entirely out of our depth,
and beyond the extent of our utmost reach. And yet it
is as certain that God made the world, as it is certain
that effects must have a cause.  It is indeed in general
no more than  effects, that the most knowing are
acquainted with: for as to causes, thley are as entirely
in the dark as the most ignorant.  What are the laws
by which matter acts upon matter,'but certain effects;
which some, having observed to be freqnuently repeated,
have reduced to general rules?  1 he real nature and
essence of beings likewise is what iwe are altogether
ignorant of. All these things are so entirely out of our




&ft XV.]    UPON THE IGNORANCE OF 1MAN.       1 75
reach, that we have not the least glimpse of them. And
we know little more of ourselves, than we do of the
world about us: how we were made, b1ow our being is
continued and preserved, what the faculties of our minds
are, and upon what the power of exercising them depends.
I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy
works, and that my soul knoweth right well. Our own
nature, and the objects we are surrounded with, serve to
raise our curiosity; but we are quite out of a condition or
satisfying it. Every secret which is disclosed, every
discovery which is made, every new effect which is brought
to view, serves to convince us of numberless more which
remain concealed, and which we had before no suspicion
of. And what if we were acquainted with the whole
creation, in the same way and as thoroughly as we are
with any single object in itP What would all this natural
knowledge amount to? It must be a low curiosity
indeed which such superficial knowledge could satisfy.
On the contrary, would it not serve to convince us of our
ignorance still; and to raise our desire of knowing the
nature of things themselves, the author, the cause, and
the end of them P
As to the government of the world: though from
consideration of.the final causes which come within our
knowledge; of characters, personal merit and demerit;
of the favour and disapprobation, which respectively are
due and belong to the righteous and the wicked, and
which therefore must necessarily be in a mind which sees
things as they really are; though, I say, from hence we
may know somewhat concerning the designs of Providence
in the government of the world, enougn to enforce upon
us religion and the practice of virtue: yet, since the
monarchy of the universe is a dominion unlimited in
extent, and everlasting in duration' the general system
of it must necessarily be quite beyond our comprehension.
And, since there appears such a subordination and
reference of the several parts to each other, as to
constitute it properly one administration or government;
we cannot have'a thorough knowledge of any part,
without knowing the whole. This surely should convince
us, that we are much less competent judges of the very




176        UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN.    [SIr. XV.
small part which comes under our notice in this world,
than we are apt to imagine. No heart can think upon
these things worthily: and who is able to conceive his way?
It is a tempest which no man can see: for the most part of
his works are hid.  Who can declare fhe works of his.justice? for his covenant is afar off, and the trial of all
things is in the end: i. e. The dealings of God with the
children of men are not vet completed, and cannot be
judged of by that part which is before us. So that a man
cannot say, This is worse than that: for in time they shall
be well approved. Thy faithfulness, 0 Lord, reacheth unto
the clouds: thy righteousness standeth like the strong
vmountains ~ thy judgments are like the great deep. He hath
made every thing beautiful in his time: also he hath set the
world in their heart; so that no man can find out the work
that God maketh from the beginning to the end. And thus
St Paul concludes a long argument upon the various
dispensations of Providence O0 the depth of the riches,
both oj' the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearch.-,able are his judgments, and his ways past finding out! lFor
who hath known the mind of the Lord?
Thus the scheme of Providence, the ways and works
of God, are too vast, of too large extent for our capacities.
There Is, as I may speak, such an expense of power,
and wisdom, and goodness, in the formation and
government of the world, as is too much for us to take
in, or comprehend. Power, and wisdom, and goodness,
are manifest to us in all those works of God, which come
within our view: but there are likewise infinite stores of
each poured forth throughout the immensity of the
creation; no part of which can be thoroughly understood,
without'taking in its reference and respect to the whole:
and this is whatgwe have not faculties for.
And as the works of God, and his scheme of government, are above our capacities thoroughly to comprehend:
so there possibly may be reasons which originally made
it fit that many things should be concealed from us, which
we have perhaps natural capacities of understanding;
many things concerning the designs, methods, and ends
of divine Providence in the government of the world.
There is no'manner of absurdity in supposing a veil on




ur. XV.]    UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN.           177
purpose drawn over some scenes of infinite power,
wisdom, and goodness, the sight of which might some
way or other strike us too strongly; or that better ends
are designed and served by their being concealed, than
could be by their being exposed to our knowledge. The
Almighty may cast clouds and darkness round about him,'for reasons and purposes of which we have not the least
glimpse or conception.
However, it is surely reasonable, and what might have
been expected, that creatures in some stage of their being,
suppose in the infancy of it, should be placed in a state
of discipline and improvement, where their patience and
submission is to be tried by afflictions, where temptations
are to be resisted, and difficulties gone through in the
discharge of their duty.  Now if the greatest pleasures
and pains of the present life may be overcome and
suspended, as they manifestly may, by hope and fear,
and other passions and affections; then the evidence of
religion, and the sense of the consequences of virtue and
vice, might have been such, as entirely in all cases to
prevail over those afflictions, difficulties, and temptations;
prevail over them so, as to render them absolutely none
at all. But the very notion itself now mentioned, of a
state of discipline and improvement, necessarily excludes
such sensible evidence and conviction of religion, and of
the consequences of virtue and vice.  Religion consists
in submission and resignation to the divine will. Our
condition in this world is a school of exercise for this
temper: and our ignorance, the shallowness of our reason,
the temptations, difficulties, afflictions, which we are
exposed to, all equally contribute to make it so. The
general observation may be carried on; and whoever will
attend to the thing  will plainly see, that less sensible
evidence, with less difficulty in practice, is the same, as
more sensible evidence, with greater difficulty in practice.
Therefore difficulties in s.peculation as much come into
the notion of a state of discipline, as difficulties in practice:
and so the same reason or account is to be given of both''Thus, though it is indeed absurd to talk of the greater
merit of assent, upon little or no evidence, than upon
demonstration; yet the strict discharge of our duty, with
"I




'178        UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN         [Sm. XV
less sensible evidence, does imply in it a better character,
than the same diligence in the discharge of it upon more
sensible evidence. This fully accounts for and explains
that assertion of our Saviour, Blessed are they that have
rnot seen, and yet have believed;* have become Christians
and obeyed the gospel upon less sensible evidence than
mhat which Thomas, to whom he is speaking, insisted:lpon..
But after all, the same account is to be given, why we
\were placed in these circumstances of ignorance, as why
nature has not furnished us with wings; namely, that we
wvere designed to be inhabitants of this earth.  I am,.:~haid we think too highly of ourselves; of our rank in!ihe creation, and of what is due to us.  What sphere of
action, what business is assigned to man, that lie has not
-capacities and knowledge fully equal to? It is manifest
-lie has reason, and knowledge, and faculties superior to
the business of the present world: faculties which appear
superfluous, if we.do not take in the respect which they
leave to somewhat further, and beyond it.  If to acquire
knowledge were our proper end, we should indeed be
buc poorly provided: but if somewhat else be our busihiess and duty, we may, notwithstanding our ignorance,
l)e well enough furnished for it; and the observation of
our ignorance may be of assistance to us in the dis-,charge of it.
II. Let us then consider, what are the consequences,of this knowledge and observation of our own ignorance,.and the reflection it leads us to.
First, We may learn from it, with what temper of,nind a man ought to inquire into the subject of religion;
namely, with'expectation of finding difficulties, and with
a disposition to take up and rest satisfied with any eviAdence whatever, which is real.
He should beforehand expect things mysterious, and.such as he will not be able thoroughly to comprehend,
or go to the bottom  of.  To expect a distinct comprehensive view of the whole subject, clear of difficulties
-and objections, is to forget our nature and condition;
neither of which admit of such knowledge, with respect
* John xx. 29.




SER. XV.]    UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN.        179
to any science whatever.  And to inquire with this
expectation, is not to inquire as a man, but as one of
another order of creatures.
Due sense of the general ignorance of man would also
beget in us a disposition to take up and rest satisfied
with any evidence whatever, which is real. I mention
this as the contrary to a disposition, of which there are
not wanting instances, to find fault with and reject evidel:ce, because it is not such as was desired.  If a man
were to walk by twilight, must he not follow his eyes as
mnuch as if it were broad day and clear sunshine P Or
if he were obliged to take a journey by night, would he
not give heed to any light sAining in the darkness, till the
day should break and the day-star arise? It would not
be altogether unnatural for him to reflect how much
better it were to have daylight; he might perhaps have
great curiosity to see the country round about him; he
might lamnent that the darkness concealed many extended
prospects from his eyes, and wish for the sun to draw
away the veil: but how ridiculous would it be to-reject
with scorn and disdain the guidance and direction which
that lesser light might afford him, because it was nc-t the
sun itself!  If the make and constitution of man, the
1i:'cumstances he is placed in, or the reason of things
affords the least hint or intimation, that virtue is the law
he is born under; scepticism itself should lead him to
tile most strict and inviolable practice of it; that he mv.ys
not make the dreadful experiment, of leaving the course
of life marked out for him  by nature, whatever that
nature be, and entering paths of his own, of which he
can know neither the dangers, nor the end. For though
no danger be seen, yet darkness, ignorance, and blindncss are no manner of securitv.
Secondly, Our ignorance is the proper answer to many
things, which are called objections against religion; particularly, to those which arise from the appearances of
evil and irregularity in the constitution of nature and the
government of the world. In all other cases it is thought
necessary to be thoroughly acquainted with the whole of
a scheme, even one of so narrow a compass as those
which are formed by men, in order to judge of the good.
M2




[80             UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN.                         [SERa. XV
ness or badness of it: and the most slight and superficial
view of any human contrivance comes abundantly nearer
to a thorough'  knowledge  of it, than  that part, which we
know of the government of the world, does to the general
scheme  and  system   of it;  to the whole  set of laws by
which it is governed. From our ignorance of the con..
stitution of things, and the scheme of Providence in thre
government of the world; from  the reference the several
parts have to each other, and to the whole; and firomi,
our not being able to see the end and the whole; it
follows, that however perfect things are, they must even
necessarily  appear to us otherwise less perfect than  they
are.*
Thirdly, Since the constitution of nature, and the
methods and designs of Providence in the government ol
the world, are above our comprehension, we shouldl
acquiesce in, and rest satisfied with, our ignorance, turnl
our thoughts from  that whlich is above and beyond us,
and apply ourselves to. that which is level to our capacities, and( which is our real business and concern.
Knowledge is not our proper happiness. Whoever will
in the least attend to the thing will see, that it is thel
* Sulppose some very com2plicated piece of wvork, some system or constitution, formed(
for sonic general end, to which each of the parts had a reference. The perfection o(
justness of this work or constitution would consist in the reference and respect, which
the several parts have to the general design.  This reference of parts to the general
dlesign may be infinitely various, both in degree and kind.  Thus one part may only
cO)lribute and be subservient to another; this to a third; and so on through a long
series, the last part of which alone may contribute immediately and directly to the
tenlleral design.  Or a part may have this distant reference to the general design,
and may also contribute immediately to it.  For instance: if the general design or
end, for which the complitnlted frame of nature was brought into being, is happiness;
whlatever affirds present satisfaction, and likewise tends to carry on the course of
things, hath this double respect to the general design. Now suppose a spectator of
that work or constitution was in a great measure ignorant of such various reference
to the general end, whatever that end be; and that, upon a very slight and partial
view which he had of the work, several things appeared to his eye disproportionate and
wrong; others, just and beautiful; what would he gather from these appearances?
tHe would immediately conclude there was a probability, if he could see the whole
referenlce of the parts appearing wrong to the general design, that this would destroy
tie appearance of wrongness and disproportion: but there is no probability, that the
retereence would destroy the particular right appearances, though that reference
might show the things already appearing just, to he so likewise in a higher degree
or another manner. There is a probability, that the right appearances were intended:
there is no probability, that the wrong appearances were.  We cannot suspect
irregularity and disorder to be designed. The pillars of a building appear beautiful;
but their being likewise its support does not destroy that beauty: there still remains
a reason to believe. that the architect intended the beautiful appearance, after we
have found out the reference, support. It would be reasonable for a man of himself
to think thus, upon the first piece of architecture he ever saw.




is. XV.]    UPON THE IGNORAN^CE OF MAN.            181
gaining, not the l aving of it, which is the entertainment
of the mind.  Indeed, if the proper happiness of mar
consisted in kOvwledge considered as a possession or
treasure, men who are possessed f t' t!ne largest share
would have a very ill time of it; as thev would be
infinitely imore sensible than others of their poverty in this
respect. Thu.s he who increases knowledge would emi
nently increase sorrow. Men of deep research and curious
inquiry should just be put in mind, not to mistake what
they are doing.  If their discoveries serve the cause of
virtue and religion, in the way of proof, motive to practice, or assistance in it; or if they tend to render life less
unhappy, and promote its satisfactions; then they are
most usefully employed: but bringing things to light,
alone and of itself, is of no manner of use, any otherwise
than as entertainment or diversion.  Neither is this at
all amiss, if it does not take up the time which should
be employed in better work. But it is evident that
there is another mark set up for us to aim at; another
end appointed us to direct our lives to: another end,
which the most knowing may fail of, and the most
ignorant arrive at.  The secret things belong unto the
Lord our God; but those things which are revealed belong
unto us, and to our children for ever, that we may do all tihe
uwords of this law.  Which reflection of Moses, put in
general terms, is, that the only knowledge, which is of
any avail to us, is that which teaches us our duty, or
assists us in the discharge of it. The economy of the
universe, the course of nature, almighty power exerted
in the creation and government of the world, is out of
our reach. What would be the consequence, if we
could really get an insight into these things, is very
uncertain; whether it would assist us in, or divert us
from, what we have to do in this present state. If
then there be a sphere of knowledge, of contemplation and employment, level to our capacities, and of
the utmost importance to us; we ought surely to apply
ourselves with all diligence to this our proper business,
and esteem every thing else nothing, nothing as to us,
in comparison of it. Thus Job, discoursing of natural
knowledge, how much it is above us, and of wisdom




182        UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN.    [Sgr. XV,
in general, says, God understandeth the way thereqf
and he knoweth the place thereof:  And unto man hI.
said, Behold, the fear cf the Lord, that is wisdom.
and to depart from evil is understanding.  Other orders
of creatures may perhaps be let into the secret counsels
of heaven; and have the designs and methods of Provi.
dence, in the creation and government of the world,
communicated to them: but this does not belong to our
rank or condition.  The fJar of the Lord, and to depa'ti
from evil, is the only wisdom which man should aspire
after, as his work and business.  The same is said, and
with the same connexion and context, in the conclusion
of the book of Ecclesiastes.  Our ignorance, and the
little we can know of other things, affords a reason why
we should not perplex ourselves about them; but no
way invalidates that which is the conclusion ofj the wholc
matter, Fear God, and keep his commandments; for this
is the whole concern of' nman.  So that Socrates was not
the first who endeavoured to draw men off from labouring after, and laying stress upon other knowledge, in
comparison of that which related to morals.  Our province is virtue and religion, life and manners; the science
of improving the temper, and making the heart better.
This is the field assigned us to cultivate: how much it
has lain neglected is indeed astonishing.  Virtue is
demonstrably the happiness of man: it consists in good
actions, proceeding from a good principle, temper, or
heart.  Overt-acts are entirely in our power.  What
remains is, that we learn to keep our heart; to govern
and regulate our passions, mind, affections: that so we
may be free from the impotencies of fear, envy, malice,
covetousness. anmbition: that we may be clear of these,
considered as vices seated in the heart, considered as
constituting a general wrong temper; from which general
wrong frame of mind, all the mistaken pursuits, and far
the greatest part of the unhappiness of life, proceed. He,
who should find out one rule to assist us in this work,
would deserve infinitely better of mankind, than all the
improvers of other knowledge put together.
Lastly, Let us adore that infinite wisdom and power
and goodness, which is above our comprehension. To




Sam. XV.]    UPON THE IGNORANCE OF MAN.           183
whom hath the root of wisdom been revealed?  Or who
hath known her wise counsels?  There is oen,?,i.,e and
greatly to be feared; the Lord sittiny upon his throete. He
created her, and saw her, and numbered her;, and poured
her out upon all his works. If it be thought a considerable
thing to be acquainted with a few, a very few, of'the effects
of infinite power and wisdom; the situation, bigness, and
revolution of some of the heavenly bodies; what sentiments should our minds be filled with concerning Him,
who appointed to each its place and measure and sphere
of motion, all which are kept with the most uniform
constancy!  Who stretched out the heavens, and telleth the
number of the stars, and calleth them all by their names.
Who laid the fbundations of the earth, who comprehendeth
tilhe dust of it in a measure, and weigheth the mountains in
scales, and the hills in a balance.  And, when we have
recounted all the appearances which come within our
view, we must add, Lo, these are part of his ways: but
how little a portion is heard of him!  Canst thou by
searching find out God? Canst thou find out the Almighty
unto perjection? It is as high as heaven; what canst thou
do? deeper than hell; what canst thou know?
The conclusion is, that in all lowliness of mind we set
lightly by ourselves: that we form our temper to an
implicit submission to the divine Majesty; beget within
ourselves an absolute resignation to all the methods of
his providence, in his dealings with the children of men:
that, in the deepest humility of our souls, we prostrate
ourselves before him, and join in that celestial song;
Great and marvellous are thy works, Lord God Almighty!
just and true are thy ways, thou King of saints! Wlho
shall nt fear thee, 0 Lord, and glorify' thy name /




SIX SERMONS
PREACHED UPON
PUBLIC OCCASIONS.
SERMON I.
PREACHED BEFORE THE INCORPORATED SOCIETY FOR THE PROPAGATIOb
OF THE GOSPEL IN FOREIGN PARTS, AT THEIR ANNIVERSARY MEETING [N
THE PARISH CHURCH OF ST MARY-LE-BOW, ON FRIDAY, FEB. 16,1738-9.
And this gospel of the hin.qdom shall be preached in all the world, for
a witnoss unto all nations.-Matt. xxiv. 14.
THE general doctrine of religion, that all things are under
the direction of one righteous Governor, having been
established by repeated revelations in the first ages of
the world, was left with the bulk of mankind, to be
honestly preserved pure and entire, or carelessly forgotten, or wilfully corrupted. And though reason, almost
intuitively, bare witness to the truth of this moral system
of nature, yet it soon appeared, that they did not like to
retain God in their knowledge,* as to any purposes of real
piety. Natural religion became gradually more and more
darkened with superstition, little understood, less regarded
in practice; and the face of it scarce discernible at all, in
the religious establishments of the most learned, polite
nations. And how much soever could have been done
towards the revival of it by the light of reason, yet this
light could not have discovered, what so nearly concerned
us, that impc rtant part in the scheme of this world, which
regards a Mediator; nor how far the settled constitution
of its government admitted repentance to be accepted for
remission of sins; after the obscure intimations of these
things, from tradition, were corrupted or forgotten. One
*Rom. i. 28.




A SERMON, &c.                  185
people indeed had clearer notices of them, together with
the genuine scheme of natural religion, preserved in the
primitive and subsequent revelations committed to their
trust; and were designed to be a witness of God, and a
providence to the nations around them: but this people
also had corrupted themselves and their religion to the
highest degree, that was consistent with keeping up the
form of it.
In this state of things, when infinite Wisdom saw
proper, the general doctrine of religion was authoritatively
republished in its purity; and the particular dispensation
of Providence, which this world is under, manifested to
all men, even, the dispensation of thle grace of God'
towards us, as sinful, lost creatures, to be recovered by
repentance through  a Mediator; who was to make
reconciliation for iniquity, and to bring in everlasting?'ighteousness,t and at length establish that new state of
things foretold by the prophet Daniel, under the character
of a kingdom, which the God of heaven would set up, anl,
which should never be destroyed.4  This, including a more
distinct account of the instituted means, whereby Christ
the Mediator would gatiner together in one the children o/
God, that were.scattered abroad,~ and conduct them to the
place he is gone to prepare jbr them;ll is the Gospel of tlhe
kingdom, which he here foretels, and elsewhere commands, should be ])reached in all the world, for a witness
unto all nations.  And it first began to be spoken by the
Lord, and was confirmed unto us by them that heard him;
God also bearing them witness, both with signs and wonders,
and with divers miracles, and gifts of the Holy Ghost,
according to his own will:~ by which means it was spread
very widely among the nations of the world, and became
a witness unto them.
When thus much was accomplished, as there is a
wonderfuil uniformity in the conduct of Providence,
Christianity was left with Christians, to be transmitted
down pure and genuine, or to be corrupted and sunk;
in like manner as the religion of nature had been before
left with mankind in general.  There was however this
* Eph. iii. 2.  + 1)an. ix. 24.  b  Dan. ii. 44.
~ John xi. 52.  I! John xiv. 2, 3.    ~ Heb. ii. 3, 4.




i86      A SERMON BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR
difference, that by an institution of external religion fitted
for all men (consisting in a common form of Christian
worship, together with a standing ministry of instruction
and discipline), it pleased God to unite Christians
in communities or visible churches, and all along to
preserve them. over a great part of' the world; and thus
perpetuate a general publication of the gospel.  For
these cornmmunities, which together make up the catholic
visible church, are, first, the repositories of' the written
oracles of God; and, in every age, have preserved and
published them, in every country, where the profession
of Christianity has obtained.  Hence it has come to
pass, and it is a thing very much to be observed in the
appointment of Providence, that even such of these
communities, as, in a long succession of years, have
corrupted Christianity the most, have yet continually
carried, together with their corruptions, the confutation
of them: for they have every where preserved the pure
original standard of it, the Scripture, to which recourse
might have b)een had, both by the deceivers and the
deceived, in every successive age.  Secondly, any particular church, in whatever place established, is like a
city that is set on a hill, whlich cannot be hid,* inviting all
who pass by, to enter into it.  All persons, to whom
any notices of it come, have, in Scripture language, the
kincgdomt of God com,',!rlqh unto them. They are reminded
of that religion, which natural conscience attests the truth
of: and they may, if' tliey will, be instructed in it more
distinctly, and likewise ill the gracious means, whereby
sinful creatures may obtain eternal life; that chief and
final good, which all men, in proportion to their understanding and integrity, even in all ages and countries of
the heathen world, were ever in pursuit of. And, lastly,
out of these churches have all along gone forth persons,
who have preached the gospel in remote places, with
greater or less good effect: for the establishment of any
profession of Christianity, however corrupt, 1 carl a good
effect, whilst accompanied with a continued publication
of tlhe Scripture, notwithstanding it may for some time
lie quite neglected.




THE PROPAGAI ON OF THE GOSPEL.         187
From these things, it may be worth observing by the
way, appears the weakness of all pleas for neglecting the
public service of the church. For tho7ugh a man prays
with as much devotion and less interruption at home,
and reads better sermons there, yet that will by no means
excuse the neglect of his appointed part in keeping up
the profession of Christianity amongst mankind.  And
this neglect, were it. universal, must be the dissolution of
the whole visible church, i. e. of all Christian communities;
and so must prevent those good purposes, which were
intended to be answered by them, and which they have,
all along, answered over the world.  For we see that by
their means the event foretold in the text, which began
in the preaching of Christ and the apostles, has been
carried on, more or less ever since, and is still carrying
on; these being the providential means of its progress.
And it is, I suppose, the completion of this event, which
St John had a representation of, under the figure of an
angel flying in the midst of' heaven, havinq thle everlasting
gospel to preach unto them that dwell on the earth, and to
every nation, and kindred, and tonqgue, and people. 
Our Lord adds in the text, that this should be for a
witness unto them; for an evidence of their duty, and an
admonition to perform it. But what would be the effect,
or success of the general preaching of the gospel, is not
here mentioned.  And therefore the prophecy of the
text is not parallel to those others in Scripture, which
seem to foretel the glorious establishment of Christianity
in the last days: nor does it appear that they are coincident; otherwise than as the fornmer of these events must
be supposed preparatory to the latter.  Nay, it is not
said here, that God willeth all men should be saved, and
come unto the knowledge of the truth: t though this is the
language of Scripture elsewhere.  The text declares no
inore, than that;i was the appoin:tment of God, in his
righteous government over the world, that the gospel oJ
the kingdom should be preached bor a witness unto it.
The visible constitution and course of nature, the
moral law written in our hearts, the positive institutions of
religion, and even any memorial of it, are all spoken of
* Rev. xiv. 6.   + 1 Tin. ii. 4.




18S      A SERMON BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR
in Scripture under this, or the like denomination: so -ir'
the prophets, apostles, and our Lord himself.  T1'!~
are all witnesses, for the most part unregarded witnesses,
in behalf of God, tc mankind.  They inform  us of 1i
being and providence, and of the particular dispensation,
of religion which we are under; and continually reminll
us of them. And they are equally witnesses of these
things, whether we regard them or not. Thus after a
declaration, that Ezekiel should be sent with a divine
message to the children of Israel, it is added, and they,
whether they will hear, or whether they willJbrbear (jbr
they are a rebellious house), yet shall know that there hath
been a prophet among them.* And our Lord directs the
seventy disciples, upon their departure from any city.
which refused to receive them, to declare, Notwithstand.
ing, be ye sure of this, that the kingdnom of God is come
nigh unto you.t The thing intended in both these passages is that which is expressed in the text by the word
witness. And all of them together evidently suggest thus
much, that the purposes of Providence are carried on, by
the preaching of the gospel, to those who reject it, as
well as to those who embrace it. It is indeed true, God
willeth that all men should be saved: yet, from  the unalterable constitution of his government, the salvation of
every man cannot but depend upon his behaviour, and
therefore cannot but depend upon himself; and is necessarily his own concern, in a sense, in which it cannot be
another's. All this the Scripture declares, in a manner the
most forcible and alarming: Can a man be profitable unto
God, as he that is wise may be profitable unto himself?  Is
it any pleasure to the Almighty, that thou art righteous?
or is it gain to Him, that thou makest thy way perfect i
If thou be wise, thou shalt be wise for thyself: but if thon:
scornest, thou alone shalt bear it.~  He that heareth, le;6
him hear; and he that forbeareth, let him forbear. ll An d
again, He that hath ears to hear, let him hear: but if an.s
man be ignorant, i e. wilfully, let him be ignorant.~'1o
the same purpose are those awful words of the angel, in
the person of Him, to whom all judgment is committed:#'
* Ezek. ii. 5, 7.  tJ Luke x. 11.  i: Job xxii. 2, 3.    Prov. ix. 12,
[1 Ezek. iL' 7.  ~ I Cor. xiv. 38.  ** John v. 22.




THE PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPEL.         189
He that is unjust, let him be unjust still: and he which is
filthy, let him be filthy still: and lie that is righteous, let
him be righteous still: and be that is holy, let him be holy
still.  And behold, I come quickly; and my reward is with
me, to give every man according as his work shall be.*
The righteous government of the world must be carried
on; and, of necessity, men shall remain the subjects of
it, by being examples of its mercy, or of its justice. Life
and death are set beJbre them, and whether they like shall
be given them.t  They are to make their choice, and
abide by it: but which soever their choice be, the gospel
is equally a witness to them; and the purposes of Providence are answered by this witness of.the gospel.
From the foregoing view of things we should be
reminded, that the same reasons which make it our duty
to instruct the ignorant in the relation, which the light of
nature shows they stand in to God their maker, and in
the obligations of obedience, resignation, and love to
him, which arise out of that relation; make it our duty
likewise to instruct them in all those other relations,
which revelation informs us of, and in the obligations of
duty, which arise out of them. And the reasons for
instructing men in both these are of the very same kind,
as for communicating any useful knowledge whatever.
God, if he had so pleased, could indeed miraculously have
rievealed every religious truth which concerns mankind,
to every individual man; and so he could have every
common truth; and thus have superseded all use of
human teaching in either. Yet he has not done this:
but has appointed, that men should be instructed by the
assistance of their fellow creatures in both. Further:
though all knowledge from reason is as really from God,
as revelation is: yet this last is a distinguished favour to
its, and naturally strikes us with the greatest awe, and
carries in it an assurance, that those things which we are
informed of by it are of the utmost importance to us to
be informed of. Revelation therefore, as it demands to
be received with a regard and reverence peculiar to itself;
so it lays us under obligations of a like peculiar sort, to
communicate the light of it. Further still: it being an
* Rev. xxii. 11, 12.  t Eclwus. v. 17.




190      A SERMON BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR
indispensable law of the gospel, that Christians should unite
in religious communities, and these being intended for
repositories* of the written oracles of God, for standing
memorials of religion to unthinking men, and for the
propagation of it in the world; Christianity is very particula.rly to be considered as a trust, deposited with us in
behalf of others, in behalf of mankind, as well as for our
own instruction. No one has a right to be called a
Christian, who doth not do somewhat in his station, towards
the discharge of this trust; who doth not, for instance, assist
in keeping up the profession of Christianity where he lives.
And it is an obligation but little more remote, to assist in
doing it in our factories abroad; and in the colonies to
which we are related, by their being peopled from our own
mother-country, and subjects, indeed very necessary ones,
to the same government with ourselves: and nearer yet
is the obligation upon such persons in particular, as have
the intercourse of an advantageous commerce with them.
Of these our colonies, the slaves ought to be considered
as inferior inembers, and therefore to be treated as
members of them; and not merely as cattle or goods,
the property of' their masters.  Nor can the highest
property, possible to be acquired in these servants, cancel
the obligation to take care of their religious instruction.
Despicable as they may appear in our eyes, they are the
creatures of God, and of the race of mankind, for whom
Christ died: and it is inexcusable to keep them in
ignorance of the end for which they were made, and the
means whereby they may become partakers of the general
redemption.  On the contrary, if the necessity of. the
case requires, that they may be treated with the very
utmost rigour, that lhlmanity will at all permit, as they
certainly are; and, for our advantage, made as miserable
as they well can be in the present world; this surely
heightens, our obligation to put them into as advantageous
a situation as we are able, with regard to another.
The like charity we owe to the natives; owe to. them
in a much stricter sense than we are apt to consider, were
it only from neighbourhood, and our having gotten
possessions in theircountrv. For incidental circumstances
*.  1S.




THE PI1OIAGA TON n,' r' l-E GOSPEL.    191.
of this kind appropriate all the general obligations of
charity to particular persons; and make such and such
instances of it the duty of one man rather than another.
We are most strictly bound to consider these poor uninformed creatures, as being in all respects, of one family
with ourselves, the family of mankind; and instruct them
in our common salvation:* that they may not pass through
this stage of their being like brute beasts; but be put into
a capacity of moral improvements, how low soever they
must remain as to others, and so into a capacity of
qualifying themselves for a higher state of life hereafter.
All our affairs should be carried on in the fear of God,
in subserviency to his honour, and the good of mankind.
And thus navigation and commerce should be consecrated
to the service of religion, by being made the means of
propagating it in every country, with which we have any
intercourse.  And the more widely we endeavour to
spread its light and influence, as the foreinentioned
circumstances, and others of a like kind, open and direct
our way, the more faithful shall we be judged in the
discharge of that trust,t which is committed to us as
Christians, when our Lord shall require an account of it.
And it may be  some encouragement to cheerful
perseverance in these enldeavours to observe, not only that
they are our duty, bhut also that they seem  the means of
carrying on a great scheme of Providence, which shall
certainly be accomnplished.  For the everlasting gospel
shall be preached to every nation.$ and the kingdoms of
this world shall become the kingdoms of our Lord, and of
his Christ.~
However, we oulght not to be discouraged in this good
work, though its future success were less clearly foretold;
and though its effect now in reforming mankind appeared
to be as little as our adversaries pretend.  They, indeed,
and perhaps some others, seem  to require more than
either experience or Scripture give ground to hope for,
in the present course of the world.  But the bare establishment of Christianity in any place, even the external
form and profession of it, is a very important and valuable
effect.  It is a serious call upon men to attend to the
* Jude 3.  t P. 190.    f Rev. xi-. 6.    Rev. xi. 15.




192      A SERMON BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR
natural and the revealed doctrine of religion. It is a
standing publication of the gospel, and renders it a witness
to them: and by this means the purposes of Providence
are carrying on, with regard to remote ages, as well as
to the present.  Cast thy bread upon the waters; for thou
shalt find it after many days. In the morning sow thy seed,
and in the evening withhold not thine hand; for thou knowtese
not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or whether
they both shall be alike good.*  We can look but a very
little way into the connexions and consequences of things:
our duty is to spread the incorruptible seed as widely as
we can, and leave it to God to give the increase.t  Yet
thus much we may be almost assured of, that the gospel,
wherever it is planted, will have its genuine effect upon
some few; upon more perhaps than are taken notice of in
the hurry of the world. There are, at least, a few persons
in every country and successive age, scattered up and down,
and mixed among the rest of mankind; who, not being
corrupted past amendment, but having within themn the
principles of recovery, will be brought to a moral and
religious sense of things, by the establishment of Christianity where they live; and then will be influenced by
the peculiar doctrines of it, in proportion to the integrity
of their minds, and to  the clearness, purity, and
evidence, with which it is offered them.  Of these our
Lord speaks in the parable of the sower, as under.tanding
the word; and bearing fruit, and bringing Jbrth, some an
hundred fold, some sixty, some thirty.t  One might add,
that these persons, in proportion to their influence, do at
present better the state of things: better it even in the
civil sense, by giving some check to that avowed
profligateness, which is a contradiction to all order and
government; and, if not checked, must be the subversion
of it.
These important purposes, which are certainly to be
expected from the good work before us, may serve' to
show, how little weight there is in that objection against
it, from the want of those miraculous assistances, with
which the first preachers of Christianity proved its truth.
The plain state of the case is, that the gospel, though it




THE PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPEL.         193
be not in the same degree a witness to all, who have it
made known to them; yet in some degree is so to all.
Miracles to the spectators of them are intuitive proofs of
its truth: but the bare preaching of it is a serious.admonition to all who hear it, to attend to the notices
which God has given of himself by the light of nature;
and, if Christianity be preached with its proper evidence,
to submit to its peculiar discipline and laws; if not, to
inquire honestly after its evidence, in proportion to their
capacities.  And there are persons of small capacities
for inquiry and examination, who yet are wrought upon
by it, to deany unyodiness and worldly lusts, and live soberly,
iyghteously, and godly in' this present world,' in expectation
of a future judgment by Jesus Christ. Nor can any
Christian, who understands his religion, object, that these
persons are Christians without evidence: for he cannot
be ignorant who has declared, that if any man will do
his will, he -,all know of the doctrine, whether it be of God.f
And, since the whole end o' Christianity is to influence the
heart and actions, were an unbeliever to object in that
manner, he should be asked, whether he would think it
to the purpose to object against persons of like capacities,
that they are prudent without evidence, when, as is often
the case, they are observed to manage their worldly affairs
with discretion.
The design before us being therefore in general
unexceptionably good, it were much to be wished, that
serious men of all denominations would join in it.  And
let me add, that the foregoing view of things affords
distinct reasons why they should. For, first, by so doing,
they assist in a work of the most useful importance, that
of spreading over the world the Scripture itself, as a divine
revelation: and it cannot be spread under this character,
for a continuance, in any country, unless Christian
churches be supported there; but will always more or
less, so long as such churches subsist: and therefore their
subsistence ought to be provided for.  In the next place,
they should remember, that if Christianity is to be
propagated at all, which they acknowledge it should, it
must be in some particular form of profession. And
* Titus ii. 12, 13.  t John vii. 17.
N




194      A SERMON BEFORE THE SOCIETY FOR
though they think ours liable to objections, yet it is
possible they themselves may be mistaken; and whether
they are or no, the very nature of society requires some
compliance with others.  And whilst, together with our
particular form of Christianity, the confessed standard of
Christian religion, the Scripture, is spread; and especially
whilst every one is freely allowed to stutdy it, and worship
God according to his conscience: the evident tendency
is, that genuine Christianity will be understood and prevail.
Upon the whole therefore, these persons would do wel'I
to consider, how  far they canl with  reason  satisfy
themselves in neglectingwhat is certainly right, on account
of what is doubtful, whether it be wrong; and when the
right is of so much greater consequence one way, than
the supposed wrong can be to the other.
To conclude: Atheistical immorality and profaneness,
surely, is not better in itself, nor less contrary to the
design of revelation, than superstition.  Nor is superstition the distinguishing vice of the present age, either
at home or abroad. But if our colonies abroad are left
without a public religion, and the means of instruction,
what can be expected, but that, from living in a continue i
forgetfulness of God, they will at length cease to believe
in him; and so sink into stupid atheism P And there is
too apparent danger of the like horrible depravity at
home, without the like excuse for it. Indeed amongst
creatures naturally formed for religion, yet so much under
the powers of imagination, so apt to deceive themselves,
and so liable to be deceived by others, as men are;
superstition is an evil, which can never be out of sight.
But even against this, true religion is a great security;
and the only one.  True religion takes up that place in
the mind, which superstition would usurp, and so leaves
little room for it; and likewise lays us under the strongest
obligations to oppose it. On the contrary, the danger of
superstition cannot but be increased by the prevalence of
irreligion: and by its general prevalence, the evil will be
unavoidable. For the common people, wanting a religion,
will of course take up with almost any superstition, which
is thrown in their way: and, in process of time, amidst
the infinite vicissitudes of the political world, the leaders




THE PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPEL.       195
of parties will certainly be able to' serve themselves of
that superstition, whatever it be, which is getting grou.rAd
anrid will not fail to carry it on to the utmost length their
occasions require. The general nature of the thing
shows this; and history and fact confirm it. But what
brings the observation home to ourselves is, that the great
superstition of which this nation, in particular, has reason
to be afraid, is imminent; and the ways in which we may,
very supposably, be overwhelmed by it, obvious. It
is therefore wonderful, those people who seem to think
there is but one evil in life, that of superstition, should
not see, that atheism and profaneness must be the
introduction of it. So that in every view of things, and
upon all accounts, irreligion is at present our chief danger.
Now the several religious associations among us, in which
many good men have of late united, appear to be
providentially adapted to this present state of the world.
And as all good men are equally concerned in promoting
the end of them; to do it more effectually, they ought to
unite in promoting it: which yet is scarce practicable
upon any new models, and quite impossible upon such as
every one would think unexceptionable. They ought
therefore to come into those already formed to their!ands; and even take advantage of any occasion of union,
to add mutual force to each other's endeavours in
furthering their common end; however they may differ
as to the best means, or any thing else subordinate to it.
Indeed there are well-disposed persons, who much want
to be admonished, how dangerous a thing it is, to discountenance what is good, because it is not better; and
hinder what they approve, by raising prejudices against
some under-part of it. Nor can they assist in rectifying
what they think capable of amendment, in the manner
of carrying on these designs, unless they will join in the
designs themselves; which they must acknowledge to be
good and necessary ones. For what can be called good
and necessary by Christians, if it be not so, to support
Christianity where it must otherwise sink, and propagate
it where it must otherwise be unknown; to restrain
abandoned, barefaced vice, by making useful examples,
at least of shame, perhaps of repentance; and to take.
N 2




196               A SERMON, ETC.
care of the education of such children, as otherwise
must be, even educated in wickedness, and trained up
to destruction P Yet good men separately can do nothing,
proportionable to what is wanting, in any of these ways;
but their common, united endeavours may do a great
deal in all of them.
And besides the particular purposes, which these
several religious associations serve, the more general
ones, which they all serve, ought not to be passed over.
Every thing of this kind is, in some degree, a safeguard
to religion; an obstacle, more or less, in the way of those
who want to have it extirpated out of the world. Such
societies also contribute more especially towards keeping
up the face of Christianity among ourselves; and by their
obtaining here, the gospel is rendered more and more a
witness to us.
And if it were duly attended to, and had its genuine
influence upon our minds, there would be no need of
persuasions to impart the blessing: nor would the means
of doing it be wanting. Indeed the present income of
this Society, which depends upon voluntary contributions,
with the most frugal management of it, can in no wise
sufficiently answer the bare purposes of our charter: but
the nation, or even this opulent city itself, has' it in its
power to do so very much more, that I fear the mention
of it may be thought too severe a reproof, since so little
is done. But if the gospel had its proper influence upon
the Christian world in general, as it is the centre of trade
and seat of learning, a very few ages, in all probability,
would settle Christianity in every country, without miraculous assistances.  For scarce any thing else, I am
persuaded, would be wanting to effect this, but laying
it before men in its divine simplicity, together with an
exemplification of it in the lives of Christian nations.
The unlearned and unbelievers, falling down on their faces,
would worship God, and report that God is in us of a
* I Co. xiv. 24




A" SERMON, ETC.                 I~t
SERMON  I I.
PREACHED BEFORE rHE RIGHT HION. THE LORD MAYOR, THE COURT O}
ALDERMEN, TIE SHERIFFS, AND THE GOVERNORS OF THE SEVERAL
HOSPITALS OF THE CIT  f OF LONDON, AT THE PARISH CHURCH OF ST
BRIDGET, ON nMONDAY IN EASTER-WEEK, 1740.
The rich and poor meet toqeether: the Lord is the lma/a r of
them all.-Prov. xxii. 2.
THE constitution of things being such, that the labour of
one man, or the united labour of several, is sufficient to
procure more necessaries than he or they stand in need
of, which it may be supposed was, in some degree, the
case, even in the first ages; this immediately gave room
for riches to arise in the world, and for men's acquiring
them by honest means; by diligence, frugality, and
prudent management.  Thus some would very soon
acquire greater plenty  of necessaries than  they had
occasion for; and others by contrary means, or by cross
accidents, would be in want of them: and he who
should supply their wants would have the property in a
proportionable labour of their hands; which he would
scarce fail to make use of, instead of his own, or perhaps
together with them, to provide future necessaries in
greater plenty. Riches then were first bestowed upon
the world, as they are still continued in it, by the blessing
of God upon the industry of men, in the use of their
understanding and strength. Riches themselves have
always this source; though the possession of them is
conveyed to particular persons by different channels.
Yet still, the hand of the diligent maketh rich,* and, other
circumstances being equal, in proportion to its diligence.
But to return to the first rich man; whom we left in
possession of dependants, and plenty of necessaries for
himself and them.  A family would not be long in this
state, before conveniences, somewhat ornamental, and for
entertainment, would be wanted, looked for, and found
out.  And, by degrees, these secondary wants, and
inventions for the supply of them, the fruits of leisure
* Prov. x. 4




198       THE CREDIBILITY OF REVELATION       [PAi? II.
seemed to be endless.  The best'remedies too, wher
unskilfully, much more if dishonestly applied, may produce new diseases; and with the rightest application
the success of them is often doubtful. In many cases
they are not at all effectual: where they are, it is often
very slowly: and the application of them, and the necessary regimen accompanying it, is, not uncommonly, so
disagreeable, that some will not submit to them; and
satisfy themselves with the excuse, that, if they would,
it is not certain whether it would be successful.  And
many persons, who labour under diseases, for which
there are known natural remedies, are not so happy as
to be always, if ever, in the way of them.  In a word,
the remedies which nature has provided for diseases are
neither certain, perfect, nor universal. And indeed the
same principles of arguing, which would lead us to conclude, that they must be so, would lead us likewise to
conclude, that there could be no occasion for them; i. e.
that there could be no diseases at all. And therefore
our experience that there are diseases shows, that it is
credible beforehand, upon supposition nature has provided remedies for them, that these remedies may be,
as by experience we find they are, not certain, nor perfect, nor universal; because it shows, that the principles upon which we should expect the contrary are
fallacious.
And now, what is the just consequence from all these
things P Not that reason is no judge of what is offered to
us as being of divine revelation.  For this would be to
infer that we are unable to judge of any thing, because
we are unable to judge of all things.  Reason can, and
it ought to judge, not only of the meaning, but also of
the morality and the evidence of revelation. First, It is
the province of reason to judge of the morality of the
Scripture; i. e. not whether it contains things different
from what we should have expected from a wise, just,
and good Being; for objections from hence have been
now obviated: but whether it contains things plainly
contradictory to wisdom, justice, or goodness; to what the
light of nature teaches us of God.  And I know nothing
of this sort objected against Scripture, excepting such obh.




THE LORD MAYOR, ETC.            199
things, together with some other improvements, gave full
scope for riches to increase in the hands of particular
persons, and likewise to circulate into more hands. Now
this, though it was not the first origin of covetousness,
yet it gives greater scope, encouragement, and temptation to covetousness than it had before. And there is
moreover the appearance, that this artificial kind of riches,
money, has begot an artificial kind of passion for them:
both which follies well-disposed persons must, by all
rmeans, endeavour to keep clear of. For indeed the love
tf riches is the rioot of all evil:' though riches themselves
may be made instrumental in promoting every thing that
is good.
The improvement of trade and commerce has made
another change, just hinted at, and I think a very happy
one, in the state of the world, as it has enlarged the
middle rank of people: many of which are, in good
measure, free from the vices of the highest and the
lowest part of mankind.  Now  these persons must
remember, that whether, in common language, they do
or do not pass under the denomination of rich, yet they
rcally are so, with regard to the indigent and necessitous;
and that considering the great numbers which make up
this middle rank among us, and how much they mix with
the poor, they are able to contribute very largely to their
relief, and have in all respects a very great influence over
them.
You have heard now the origin and progress of what
this great city so much abounds with, riches; as far as I
shad occasion to speak of these things.  For this brief
account of them has been laid before you for the sake of
the good admonitions it afforded.  Nor will the admonitions be thought foreign to the charities, which we are
endeavouring to promote. For these must necessarily
be less, and the occasions for them greater, in proportion
as industry should abate, or luxury increase. And the
temper of covetousness is, we all know, directly contrary
to that of charity, and eats out the very heart of it. Then,
lastly, there are good sort of people who really want to
be told, that they are included in the a dlmonitions to be
* Tim. vi, 10.




200         A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE
given to the rich, though they do see others richer than
themselves.
The ranks of rich and poor being thus formed, they
meet together; they continue to make up one society.
The mutual want, which they still have of each other,
still unites them inseparably. But they meet upon a foot
of great inequality.  For, as Solomon expresses it in
brief, and with much force, the rich ruleth over the poor.*
And this their general intercourse, with the superiority
on one hand, and dependence on the other, are in
no sort accidental, but arise necessarily from a settled
providential disposition of things, for their common good.
Here then is a real, standing relation between the rich
and the poor. And the former must take care to perform
the duties belonging to their part of it, for these chiefly
the present occasion leads me to speak to, from regard
to Him, who placed them in that relation to the poor,
from whence those duties arise, and who is the Maker oj
them all.
What these duties are, will easily be seen, and the
obligations to them strongly enforced, by a little further
reflection upon both these ranks, and the natural situation which they are in with respect to each other.
The lower rank of mankind oo on, for the most part,
in some tract of living, into which they got by direction
or example; and to this their understanding and discourse,
as well as labour, are greatly confined. Their opinions
of persons and things they take upon trust.  Their behaviour has very little in it original or of home-growth;
very little which may not be traced up to the influence
of others, and less which is not capable of being changed
by such influence. Then as God has made plentiful
provision for all his creatures, the wants of all, even of
the poorest, might be supplied, so far as it is fit they
should, by a proper distribution of it. This being the
condition of the lower part of mankind, consider now
what influence, as well as power, their superiors must,
from the nature of the case, have over them. For they
can instil instruction, and recommend it in a peculiar
manner by their example, and enforce it still further with
* Prov. xxUi. 7.




TI-IE LORD MAYOR, ETC.          201
favour and discouragermnt of various kinds.  And
experience shows, that they do direct and ch(lge the
course of the world as they please. Not only the civil
welfare, but the morals and religion of their fellow
creatures, greatly depend upon them; much more indeed
than they would, if the common people were not greatly
wanting to their duty. All this is evidently true of
superiors in general; superiors in riches, authority, and
understanding, taken together.  And need I say how
much of this whole superiority goes along with riches P
It is no small part of it, which arises out of riches themselves. In all governments, particularly in our own, a
good share of civil authority accompanies them. Superior
natural understanding may, or may not: but when it
does not, yet riches afford great opportunities for i.mprovement, and may command information; which things
together are equivalent to natural superiority of understanding.
But I am sure you will not think I have been reminding you of these advantages of riches in order to beget
in you that complacency and trust in them, which you
find the Scripture every where warning you against.
No: the importance of riches, this their power and
influence, affords the most serious admonition in the
world to those who are possessed of them.  For it
shows, how very blameable even their carelessness in
the use of that power and influence must be: since it
must be blameable in a degree proportionate to the
importance of what they are thus careless about.
But it is not only true, that the rich have the power
of doing a great deal of good, and must be highly
blameable for neglecting to do it: but it is moreover
true, that this power is given them by way of trust, in
order to their keeping down that vice and misery, with
which the lower people would otherwise be quite overrun. For without instruction and good influence they, of
course, grow rude and vicious, and reduce themselves
to the utmost distresses; often to very terrible ones
without deserving much blame. And to these must be
added their unavoidable distresses, which yet admit of
relief.  This their case plainly requires, that somne




202          A SERMON PREACIIED BEFORE
natural provision should be made for it; as the case of
children does, who, if left to their own ways, would
almost infallibly ruin themselves.  Accordingly Providence has made provision for this case of the poor: not
only by forming their minds peculiarly apt to be influenced by their superiors, and giving those superiors
abilities to direct and relieve theln; but also by putting
the latter under the care and protection of the former:
for this is plainly done, by means of that intercourse of
various kinds between them, which in the natural course
of things, is unavoidably necessary. In the primitive ages
of the world, the manner in which the,rich and the poor
met together, was in families.  Rich men had the poor
for their servants: not only a few for the offices about
their persons, and for the care of' what we now call
domestic affairs; but great numbers also for the keeping
of their cattle, the tillage of their fields, for working up
their wool into furniture and vestments of necessary
use as well as ornament, and for preparing them  those
many things at home, which now pass through a mnultitude of unknown poor hands successively, and are by
them prepared, at a distance, for the use of the rich.
The instruction of these large families, and the oversight
of their morals and religion, plainly belonged to the
heads of them. And that obvious humanity, which
every one feels, must have induced them to be kind to
all whom they found under their roof, in sickness and old
age. In this state of the world, the relation between
the rich and the poor could not but be universally seen
and acknowledged.  Now indeed it is less in sight, by
means of artificial methods of carrying on business,
which yet are not blameable. But the relation still
subsists, and the obligations arising out of it; and cannot
but remain the same, whilst the rich have the same want
of the poor, and make the same use of them, though not
so immediately under their eye; and whilst the instruction, and manners, and good or bad state of the poor,
really depend in so great a degree upon the rich, as all
these things evidently do; partly in their capacity of
magistrates, but very much also in their private capacity.
In short, he who has distributed men into these different




THE LORD MAYOR, ETC.              203
ranks, and at the same time united them  into one
society, in such sort as men are united, has, by this
constitution of things, formally put the poor under the
superintendency and patronage of the rich.  The rich
then are charged, by natural providence, as much as by
revealed appointment, with the care of the poor: not tc,
nmaintain them idle; which, were it possible they could
be so maintained, would produce greater mischiefs than
those which charity is to prevent; but to take care, that
they maintain themselves by their labour, or in case
tih.  cannot, then to relieve them; to restrain their
vlces, and form their minds to virtue and religion. This
is a trust, yet it is not a burden, but a privilege, annexed
to riches.  And if every one discharged his share of the
trust faithfully, whatever be his share of it, the world
would be quite another place from what it is.  But that
cannot be, till covetousness, debauchery, and every vice,
be unknown among the rich. Then, and not before,
will the manners of the poor be, in all respects, what
they ought to be, and their distresses find the full relief,
which they ought to find. And, as far as things of this
sort can be calculated, in proportion to the right behaviour of persons whom God has placed in the former of
these ranks, will be the right behaviour and good condltion of those who are cast into the latter.  Every one of
ability then is to be persuaded to do somewhat towards
t/ils, keeping up a sense of virtue and religion among
the poor, and relieving their wants; each as much as he
can be persuaded to. Since the generality will not part
with their vices, it were greatly to be wished, they
would bethink themselves, and do what good they are
able, so far only as is consistent with them.  A vicious
rich man cannot pass through life without doing an
incredible deal of mischief, were it only by his example
and influence; besides neglecting the most important
obligations, which arise from his superior fortune. Yet
still, the fewer of them he neglects, and the less mischief
he does, the less share of the vices and miseries of his
inferiors will lie at his door: the less will be his guilt
and punishment.  But conscientious persons of this
rnk must revolve again and again in their minds, how




204          A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE
great the trust is, which God has annexed to it. They
must each of them consider impartially, what is his own
particular share of that trust; which is determined by his
situation, character, and fortune together: and then set
himself to be as useful as he can in those particular ways,
which he finds thus marked out for him. This is exactly
the precept of St Peter: As every man hath received the
yi/t, even so'minister the same one to another, as good
stewcards of the manifbld grace of God.*  And as rich
men, by a right direction of their greater capacity, may
entitle themselves to a greater reward; so by a wrong
direction of it, or even by great negligence, they may
become partakers of other men's sins,t and chargeable
with other men's miseries. For if there be at all any
measures of proportion, any sort of regularity and order
in the administration of things, it is self-evident, that unto
whomsover much is given, of him shall much be required:
and to whom much is committed, of him shall more be
demanded.$
-But still it is to be remembered, that every man's
behaviour is his own concern, for every one must give
account of his own works; and that the lower people are
very greatly to blame in yielding to any ill influence,
particularly following the ill example of their superiors;
though these are more to blame in setting them such an
example. For, as our Lord declares, in the words
immediately preceding those just mentioned, that servant
which knew his Lord's will, and prepared not himself,
neither did according to his will, shall be beaten with many
stripes. But he that knew not, and did commit things
worthy of stripes, shall be beaten with fetw stripes.~  Vice
is itself of ill desert, and therefore shall be punished in
all, thoughits ill desert is greater or less, and so shall
b)e its punishment, in proportion to men's knowledge of
God and religion: but it is in the most literal sense true,
that he who kneu, not his Lord's will, and committed things
worthy of stripes, shall be beaten, though with few stripes.
For it being the discernment, that such and such actions
are evil, which renders them vicious in him who does
them, ignorance of other things, though it may lessen,
*1 P. L..10.   I Tlm. v. 2.  $Iake ZltL d   I Lulke Xi 47, 46.




THE LORD MAYOR, ETC.             205
yet It cannot remit the punishment of such actions in a
just administration, because it cannot destroy the guiltof
them: much less can corrupt deference and regard to the
example of superiors in matters of plain duty and sin
have this effect. Indeed the lowest people know very
well, that such ill example affords no reason whv they
should do ill; but they hope it will be an excuse for them,
and thus deceive themselves to their ruin: which is a
forcible reason why their superiors should not lay this
snare in their wav.
All this approves itself to our natural understanding;
though it is by means of Christianity chiefly, that it is
thus enforced upon our consciences. And Christianity,
as it is more than a dispensation of goodness, in the
general notion of goodness, even a dispensation of
forgiveness, of mercy and favour on God's part, does in
a peculiar manner heighten our obligations to charity
among ourselves. In this was manifested the love of God
towards us,-that he sent his Son to be the propitiation for
our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought also to
love one another.* With what unanswerable force is that
question of our Lord to be applied to every branch of this
duty, Shouldest not thou also have compassion on thy fellowservant, even as I had pity on thee?t And can there be
a stronger inducement to endeavour the reformation of
the world, and bringing it to a sense of virtue and religion,
than the assurance given us, that he which converteth a
sinnerfrom the error of his way, and, in like manner, he
also who preventeth a person's being corrupted, by taking
care of his education, shall save a soul from death, and
hide a multitude of sins?t
These things lead us to the following observations on
the several charities, which are the occasion of these
annual solemnities.
1. What we have to bestow in charity being a trust,
we cannot discharge it faithfully, without taking some
care to satisfy ourselves in some degree, that we bestow
it upon the proper objects of charity. One hears persons
complaining, that it is difficult to distinguish who are
such; yet often seeming to forget, that this is a reason
* 1 John iv. 9. 10,, 11.     Matt. xviii. 33.  t Ja  v 20.




206         A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE
for using their best endeavours to do it.  And others
mnake a custom of giving to idle vagabonds: a kind of
charity, very improperly so called, which one really
wonders people can allow themselves in; merely to be
relieved from importunity, or at best to gratify a false good
nature.  For they cannot but know, that it is, at least,
very doubtful, whether what they thus give will not
immediately be spent in riot and debauchery.  Or
suppose it be not, yet still they know, they do a great
deal of certain mischief, by encouraging this shameful
trade of begging in the streets, and all the disorders
which accompany it. But the charities towards which
I now ask your assistance, as they are always open, so
every one may contribute to them with full assurance,
that he bestows upon proper objects, and in general that
he does vastly more good, than by equal sums given
separately to particular persons. For that these charities
really have these advantages, has been fully made out,
by some who have gone before me in the duty I am
discharging, and by the reports annually published at
this time.
Here the Report annexed was read.
Let us thank God for these charities, in behalf of the
poor; and also on our own behalf, as they give us such
clear opportunities of doing good. Indeed without them,
vice and misery, of which there is still so much, would
abound so much more in this populous city, as to render
it scarce an habitable place.
2. Amongst the peculiar advantages of public charities
above private ones, is also to be mentioned, that they are
examples of great influence. They serve for perpetual
memorials of what I have been observing, of the relation
which subsists between the rich and the poor, and the
duties which arise out of it. They are standing admonitions to all within sight or hearing of them, to go and do
likewise.* Educating poor children in virtue and religion,
relieving the sick, and correcting offenders in order to
their amendment, are, in themselves, some of the very
best of good works. These charities would indeed be
the glory of your city, though their influence were
* Luke x. 37.




THE LORD MAYOR, ETC.                        207
confined to it. But important as they are in themselves,
their importance still increases, by their being examples
to the rest of the nation; which, in process of time, of
course copies after the metropolis. It has indeed already
imitated every one of these charities; for of late, the
most difficult and expensive of them, hospitals for the
sick and wounded, have been established; some within
your sight, others in remote parts of the kingdom. You
will give me leave to mention particularly that* in its
second trading city; which is conducted with such
disinterested fidelity and prudence, as I dare venture to
compare with yours. Again, there are particular persons
very blameably unactive and careless, yet not without
good dispositions, who, by these charities, are reminded
of their duty, and provoked  to  love and to good works.+
And let nme add, thlough one is sorry any should want so
slight a  reason for contributingc to  the  most excellent
designs, yet if any are supposed to do so merely of course,
because they see others do it, still they help  to  support
these  monuments  of charity,  which  are  a  continued
admonition to the rich, and relief to the poor: and herein
all good men rejoice, as St Paul speaks of himself in a
like case, yea, and will rejoice.;
3. As all human  schemes admit of improvement, all
public  charities,  methinks,  should  be  considered  as
standing open to proposals for it; that the whole plan of
them, in all its. parts, may be b1rought to as great perfection as is possible. Now it should seem, that employing
some share of the children's time in easy labour, suitable
to their age, which is done in some of our charity schools,
might be done in most others of them, with very good
effect; as it is in all those  of a  neigh1bouring  kingdom.
Then as the only purposes of punishments less than
* As it is of very particular benefit to those, who ought always to be looked upon
with particular favour by us, I mean our seamen; so like\wise it is of very extensive
benefit to the large tracts of country west and north of it. Then the medicinal waters
near the city relier it a still more proper situation for an infirmary. And so likewise
does its neighblourhood to the Bath hospital. For it may well be supposed, that some
poor objects will be sent thither in hopes of re-ief from the Bath waters, whose case
may afterwards be fiund to require the assistance of physic or surgery: and on the
other hand, that some may be sent to our infirmary for help from those arts, whose
ease may be found ta cequire tlh Bath waters. So that if I am not greatly partial,
the Bristol infirmary as much deserves encouragement as any charitable foundation in
the kingdom.     -      [ Heb. x. 24.       $ Phil. i. 18.




208         A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE
capital are to reform the offenders themselves, and warn
tile innocent by their example, every thing which should
contribute to make this kind of punishments answer these
purposes better than it does, would be a great improveinent. And whether it be not a thing practicable, and
what would contribute somewhat towards it, to exclude
utterly all sorts of revel-mirth from places where offenders
are confined, to separate the young from the old, and
force them both, in solitude, with labour and low diet, to
n-l ake the experiment, how far their natural strength of
Inind can support them  under guilt and shame and
poverty; this may deserve consideration. Then again,
somre religious instruction particularly adapted to their
condition would as properly accompany those punishments
which are intended to reform, as it does capital ones.
God forbid that I should be understood to discourage the
provision which;s made for it in this latter case: I
heartily wish it were better than it is; especially since it
may well be supposed as the state of religion is at present
among us, that some condemned malefactors may have
never had the doctrine of the gospel enforced upon their
consciences.  But since it must be acknowledged of
greater consequence, in a religious as well as civil respect,
how persons live, than how they die; it cannot but be
even more incumbent on us to endeavour, in all ways, to
reclaim those offenders who are to return again into the
world, than those who are to be removed out of it: and
the only effectual means of reclaiming them, is to instil
into them a principle of religion.  If persons of authority
and influence would take things of this and a like kind
under their consideration, they might perhaps still
improve those charities; which are already, I truly believe,
under a better management than any other of so large a
compass in the world. But,
4. With regard to the two particular branches of them
last mentioned, I would observe, that our laws and whole
constitution, civil and ecclesiastical, go more upon supposition of an equality amongst mankind, than the
constitution and laws of other countries.  Now  this
plainly requires that more particular regard should be
had to the education of the lower people here, than in




THE LORD MAYOR, ETC.             209
places, where they are born slaves of power, and to be
made slaves of superstition. It is, I suppose, acknowledged,
that they have greater liberty here, than they have any
where else in the world. But unless care be taken for
giving them some inward principle, to prevent their abusing this greater liberty which is their birthright, can we
expect it will prove a blessing to them? or will they not
in all probability become more dissolute, or more wild
and extravagant, whatever wrong turn they happen to
take, than people of the same rank in other countries P
5. Let me again remind you of the additional reason,
which persons of fortune have to take particular care of
their whole behaviour, that it be in all respects good and
exemplary, upon account of the influence which it will
have upon the manners of their inferiors. And pray
observe how strictly this is connected with the occasion
of our present meeting; how much your good behaviour
in private life will contribute to promote the good design
of all these charities; and how much the contrary would
tend to defeat it, and even to produce the evils which
they are intended to prevent or to remedy. Whatever
care be taken in the education of these poor children at
school, there is always danger of their being corrupted,
when they come fromn it.. And this danger is greater, in
proportion to the greater wickedness of the age they are
to pass through. J3ut if, upon their coming abroad into
the world, they find the principles of virtue and religion
recommended by the example of their superiors, and vice
and. irreligion really discountenanced, this will confirm
them in the good principles in which they have been
brought up, and give the best ground to hope they will
never depart from them.  And the like is to be said of
offenders, who may have had a sense of virtue and
religion wrought in them, under the discipline of labour
and confinement.   Again;, dissolute and debauched
persons of fortune greatly increase the general corruption
of manners; and this is what increases want and misery
of all kinds. So that they may contribute largely to any
or all of these charities, and yet undo but a very small
part of the mischief which thev do, by thr it example, as
well as in other ways.  But still this mischief which they
0




210                A SERMON, ETC.
do, suppose by their example, is an additional reason
why they should contribute to them; even in justice to
particular persons, in whose ruin they may have an
unknown share of guilt; or however in justice to society
in general; for which they will deserve commendation,
h}ow blameable soever they are for the other.  And
indeed amidst the dark prospect before us, from that
profligateness of manners., and scorn of religion, which
so generally abound, this good spirit of charity to the
poor discovering itself in so great a degree, upon these
occasions, and likewise in the iate necessitous time,
even amongst persons far from being blameless in other
respects; this cannot but afford hopes, that we are not
given over by Providence, and also that they themselves
will at length consider, and not go on contributing, by
the example of their vices, to the introduction of that
distress, which they so commendably relieve by their
liberality.
To conclude: Let our charity towards men be exalted
into piety towards God, from the serious consideration,
that we are all his creatures; a consideration which
enforces that duty upon our consciences, as we have any
regard to him. This kind of adjuration, and a most
solemn one it is, one often hears profaned by a very
unworthy sort of people, when they ask relief for God's
sake. But surely the principle itself, which contains in
it every thing great, and just, and good, is grievously
forgotten among us. To relieve the poorJbr God's sake,
is to do it in conformity to the order of nature, and to
his will, and his example, who is the Author and Governor of it; and in thankful remembrance, that all we
have is from his bounty. It is to do it in his behalf, and
as to him.  For he that hath pity upon the poor lendeth
-unto the Lord:* and our Saviour has declared, that he
will take as given to himself, what is given in a wellchosen charity.t  Lastly, it is to do it under a sense of
the account which will be required of what is committed
to our trust, when the rich and poor, who meet here upon
terms of so great inequality, shall meet hereafter upon a
level, before him who is the Maker of them all.
* Pro. xix. 17.       t Matt. xxv. 40.




A SERMON, ETC.                            211
SERMON III.
PIEACHED BBFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS, IN THE ABBEY-CHURCH OF WEST.
MINSTER, ON FRIDAY, JANUARY 30, 1740-41, BEING THE DAY APPOINTED TO
BE OBSERVED AS THE DAY OF THE MARTYRDOM OF KING CHARLES I.
JAnd not using your liberty for a cloak of maliciousness, but as the
servants of God. —I Peter ii. 16.
A HISTORY SO full of important and interesting events as'hat which  this  day  recalls  annually  to  our  thoughts,
cannot but afford them very different subjects for their
most serious and useful employment.   But there seems
none which it more naturally leads us to consider than
that of hypocrisy, as it sets before us so many examples
of it; or which will yield us more practical instruction,
as these examples so forcibly admonish  us, not only  to
be upon our guard against the pernicious  effects  of this
vice in others, but also to watch over our own hearts,
against every thing of the like kind in ourselves: for
hypocrisy, in the moral and religious consideration of
things, is of much larger extent than every one may
imagine.
In common language, which is formed upon the common intercourses amongst men, hypocrisy signifies little
more than their pretending what they really do not
mean, in order to delude one another. But in Scripture,
which treats chiefly of our behaviour towards God and
our own consciences, it signifies, not only the endeavour
to delude our fellow creatures, but likewise insincerity
towards him, and towards ourselves. And therefore,
according  to the  whole  analogy  of Scripture  language,
to use liberty as a cloak of maliciousness,' must be under* The hypocrisy laid to the charge of the Pharisees and Sadducees, in Matt. xvi. at
tdle beginning, and in Luke xii. 54, is determinately this, that their vicious passions
blinded them so as to prevent their discerning the evidence of our Saviour's mission;
though no more understanding was necessary to discern it, than what they had, and
made use of in common matters.  Here they are called hypocrites merely upon
account of their ilsincerity towards God and their own consciences, and not at all
upon account of any insincerity towards men. This last indeed is included in that
general hypocrisy, which, throughout the gospels, is represented as their distinguished
character; but the former is as much included. For they were not men, who, witholt
any belief at all of religion, put on the appearance of it only in order to deceive the
vor;d: on the contrary, they believed their religion, and were mealous in it. But their
0 g




212                A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE
stood to mean, not only endeavouring to irnposc upon
others, by indulging wayward passions, or carrying on
indirect designs, under pretences of it; but also excusing
and palliating such  things to ourselves; serving ourselves
of such pretences to quiet our own minds in any thing
which is wrong.
Liberty in the writings of the New Testament, for the
most part, signifies, being delivered from the bondage of
the ceremonial law; or of sin and the devil, which St
Paul  calls  the  glorious  liberty  of thl6  children  of God.*
This last is a progressive state: and the perfection of it,
whether attainable in this world or not, consists in that
perfict love,t which St John speaks of; and which, as it
implies an entire coincidence of our wills with the will
of God, must be a state of the most absolute freedom, in
the most literal and proper sense.  But whatever St
Peter distinctly meant by this word, liberty, the text gives
occasion to consider any kind of it, which is liable to the
abuse he here warns us against.  However, it appears
that he meant to comprehend that liberty, were it more
religion, which they believed, and] were zealols in, was in its nature hypocritical:
for it was the form, not tile reality; it allowed them  in immoral practices; and
indeed was itself in some respects immoral, as they indulged their pride and uncharitableness under the notion of zeal for it. See Jer. ix. 6, Psalm lxxviii. 36. Job iii. 19.
anti Matt. xv. 7-14. and xxiii. 13, 16, 19, 21, 26. where hypocrite and blind are used
promiscuously.  Again, the Scripture speaks of the deceitfulness of sin; and its
deceiving those wlho are guilty of it: Heb. iii. 13. Eph. iv. 22. Rom. vii. i1. of men's
acting as if they could deceive and mock God: Is. xxix. 15. Acts v. 3. Gdl. vi. 7. of
their blinding their own eyes: Matt. iii. 15. Acts xxviii. 27. and deceiving themselves;
wlhich is quite a different thiing from  being deceived.  I Cor. iii. 18. 1 John i. 8.
Galatians vi. 3. James i. 22, 26.  Many more coincident passages might be mentioned: but I will add only one.  In 2'ihess. ii. it is foretold that by means of sonme
force, somel energy of delusion, nmenr shiould believe the lie wlich is there treated of:
ttlisforce of delusion is not any thing wittlout them, but somewhat within them, which
iL is expressly said they should bring upon themselves, by not receiving the love of the
truth, but having pleasure in unrighteousness.  Answvering to all this is that very
remarkable passage of our Lord, Matt. vi. 22, 23. Luke xi. 34, 35. aznd that admoli-'tion repeated fourteen times in the New Testament; He that hath ears to hear, lei
rnim hear.  And the ground of this whole manner of considering tilngs; for it is nIot
to he spoken of as only a peculiar kind of phraseology, but is a most accurate aMid
sq'4ictly just mannler of considering characters and moral conduct; the ground of it
I say, is, that when persons will not be influenced by such evidence in religion as
th,.y act upon in the daily course of life, or when their notions of religion (and I
Iligilt add of virtue) are in any sort reconcileable with what is vicious, it is some
faulty negligence or prejudice which thus deludes them; in very different watys.
gerlhaps, anl  very different degrees.  But when any one is thus deluded through his
ownt; fault, in whatever way or degree it is, he deludes himself. And this is ias properly hypocrisy towards himself, as deluding the world is hypocrisy towards the
world: and he who is guilty of it acts as if lie could deceive and mock God. and
therefore is an hypocrite towards himn, in as strict and literal a sense as the mlature  d
the sublject will admit.
* Rom. viii. 21.             f I John iv. 18.




THE HOUSE OF' LORDS.             213
or less, which they to whom he was writing enjoyed under
civil government: for of civil government he is speaking
just before and afterwards: Submit yourselves to every
ordinance of man Jbr the Lord's sake: whether it be to the
king, as supreme; or unto governors, as unto them that are
sent by him. For so is the will of God, that with well
doing, of which dutiful behaviour towards authority is a
very material instance, ye may put to silence the ignorance
of foolish men:* as free, perhaps in distinction from the
servile state, of which he speaks afterwards, and not
using your liberty for a cloak of mdliciousness,t of any
thing wrong, for so the word signifies; and therefore
comprehends petulance, affection of popularity, with any
other like frivolous turn of mind, as well as the more
hateful and dangerous passions, such as malice, or ambition; for all of which liberty may equally be used as a
cloak.  The apostle adds, but as the servants of God: as
friee-but as his servants, who requires dutiful submission
to every ordinance of man, to magistracy; and to whom
we are accountable for our manner of using the liberty
we enjoy under it; as well as for all other parts of our
behaviour.  Not using your liberty as a cloak of maliciousness, but as the servants of God.
Here are three things offered to our consideration:
First, A general supposition, that what is wrong cannot
be avowed in its proper colours, but stands in need of
some cloak to be thrown over it: Secondly, A particular
one, that there is danger, some singular danger, of liberty'-.
being made use of for this purpose: Lastly, An admonitior. not to make this ill use of our liberty, but to use it
(is the servants oJf God.
1. Here is a general supposition, that what is wrong
cannot be avowed in its proper colours, but stands in
need of some cloak to be thrown over it.  God has
constituted our nature, and the nature of society, after
such a manner, that generally speaking, men cannot
encourage or support themselves in wickedness upon the
foot of there being no difference between right and wrong,
or by a direct avowal of wrong; hbut by disguising it, and
endeavouring to spread over it some colours of right
1 Pet. ii. 13-15.         VYel. 16.




'1[4        A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE
And they do this in every capacity and every respect,
in which there is a right or a wrong. They do it, not
only as social creatures under civil government, but also
as moral agents under the government of God; in one
case to make a proper figure in the world, and delude
their fellow creatures; in the other to keep peace within
themselves, and delude their own consciences. And the
delusion in both cases being voluntary, is, in Scripture,
called by one name, and spoken against in the same
manner: though doubtless they are much more explicit
with themselves, and more distinctly conscious of what
they are about, in one case than in the other.
The fundamental laws of all governments are virtuous
ones, prohibiting treachery, injustice, cruelty: and the
law of reputation enforces those civil laws, by rendering
these vices everywhere infamous, and the contrary
virtues honourable and of good report. Thus far the
constitution of society is visibly moral: and hence it is,
that men cannot live in it without taking care to cover
those vices when they have them, and make some
profession of the opposite virtues, fidelity, justice, kind
regard to others, when they have them  not: but especially is this necessary in order to disguise and colour
over indirect purposes, which require the concurrence
of several persons.
Now all false pretences of this kind are to be called
hypocritical, as being contrary to simplicity; though not
always designed, properly speaking, to beget a false
belief. For it is to be observed, that they are often
inade without any formal intention to have them believed, or to have it thought that there is any reality
under these pretences.  Many examples occur of verbal
professions of fidelity, justice, public regards, in cases
where there could be no imagination of their being
lbelieved. And what other account can be given oJ
these merely verbal professions, but that they were
thought the proper language for the public ear; and
made in business for the very same kind of reasons as
civility is kept up in conversation P
These false professions of virtue, which men have, in
all ages, found it necessary to make their appearance




THE HOUSE OF LORDS.              215
tvith abroad, must have been originally taken up in
orrder to deceive in the proper sense: then they became
habitual, and often intended merely by way of form:
-et often  still, to  serve  their original purpose of
d:.eceiving.
There is doubtless amongst mankind a great deal of
this hypocrisy towards each other: but not so much as
may sometimes be supposed. For part which has, at
Xfirst sight, this appearance, is in reality that other
hlypocrisy before mentioned; that self-deceit, of which
the Scripture so remarkably takes notice.  There are
indeed persons who live without God in the world:.  and
some appear so hardened as to keep no measures with
themselves. But as very ill men may have a real and
strong sense of virtue and religion, in proportion as this
is the case with any, they cannot be easy within
themselves but by deluding their consciences.  And
though they should, in great measure, get over their
religion, yet this will not do.  For as long as they carry
about with them any such sense of things, as makes
tliem condemn what is wrong in others, they could not
bu)t condemn the same in themselves, and dislike and
be disgusted with their own character and conduct, it
thev would consider them distinctly, and in a full light.
But this sometimes they carelessly neglect to'do, and
sometimes carefully avoid doing. And as the inteyrith
0f the upright guides him,t guides even a man's judgment
so wickedness may distort it to such a degree, as that
lie may call evil goad, and good evil; put darkness jbt
ley ht, and ligtt.Jbr darkness;  and think wickedly, that
God is such an oile as himsel/:~  Even the better sort of
men are, in some degree, liable to disguise and palliate
their failings to themselves: but perhaps there are few
men who go on calmly in a course of very bad things,
without somewhat of the kind now described in a very
high degree. They try appearances upon themselves as
well as upon the world, and with at least as much
success; and choose to manage so as to make their own
minds easy with their faults, which can scarce be without
tnalagement, rather than to mend them.
Epb.. ii. 1i7.  f Prov  xi. 3.  $ Isa. v. 2U., Psalm  1. 21.




',.2. J     A SEIM(IO)N PlIlEACHIED BEFORE
But whlethcr from men's deluding themselves, or fromn
Wdeir intending to delude the world, it is evident scarce
any thing wrong in public has ever been accomplished,
or even attempted, but under false colours: either by
pretending one thing, which was right, to be designed,
when it was really another thing, which was wrong; or
if that which was wrong was avowed, by endeavouring
to give it some appearance of right. For tyranny, and
faction so friendly to it, and which is indeed tyranny out
of power, and unjust wars, and persecution, by which
the earth has been laid waste; all this has all along been
carried on with pretences of truth, right, general good.
So it is, men cannot find in their heart to join in such
things, without such honest words to be the bond of the
union, though they know among themselves, that they
are only words, and often though they know, that every
body else knows it too.
These observations might be exemplified by numerous
instances in the history which led to them: and without
them it is impossible to understand in any sort the
general character of the chief actors in it, who were
engaged in the black design of subverting the constitution
of their country. This they completed with the most
enormous act of mere power, in defiance of all laws of
God and man, and in express contradiction to the real
design and public votes of that assembly, whose
commission, they professed, was their only warrant for
any thing they did throughout the whole rebellion. Yet
with unheard-of hypocrisy towards. men, towards God
and their own consciences, for without'such a cornplication of it their conduct is inexplicable; even this action,
which so little admitted of any cloak, was, we know,
contrived and carried into execution, under pretences of
authority, religion, liberty, and by profaning the forms
of justice in an arraignment and trial, like to what is
used in regular legal procedures. No age indeed can
show an example of hypocrisy parallel to this. But the
history of all ages and all countries will show, what has
been really going forward over the face of the earth, to
be very different from what has been always pretended;
and that virtue has been every where professed much




THE HOUSE OF LORDS.              21 X
more than it has been any where practised; nor coulk
society, from the very nature of its constitution, subsist
without some general public profession of it. Thus the
face and appearance which the world has in all times put
on, for the ease and ornament of life, and in pursuit of
further ends, is the justest satire upon what has in all
times been carrying on under it: and ill men are destined,
by the condition of their being as social creatures, always
to bear about with them, and, in different degrees, to
profess, that law of virtue, by which they shall finally be
judged and condemned.
II. As fair pretences, of one sort or other, have thus
alwavs been made use of by mankind to colour over
indirect and wrong designs from the world, and to palliate
and excuse them to their own minds; liberty, in common
with all other good things, is liable to be made this use of,
and is also liable to it in a way more peculiar to itself:
which was the second thing to be considered.
In the history which this day refers us to, we find our
constitution, in Church and State, destroyed under
pretences, not only of religion, but of securing liberty,
and carrying it to a greater height.  The destruction of
the former was with zeal of such a kind, as would not
have been warrantable, though it had been employed in
the destruction of heathenism.  Aind the confusions, the
persecuting spirit, and incredible fanaticism, which grew
up upon its ruins, cannot but teach sober-minded men to
reverence so mild and reasonable an establishment, now
it is restored; for the preservation of Christianity, and
keeping up a sense of it amongst us, and for the instruc-.
tion and guide of the ignorant; nay were it only for
guarding religion from such extravagances: especially
as these important purposes are served by it without beiii 
hard in the least upon any.
And the concurrent course of things, which broug!:on the ruin of our civil constitution, and what follows- I
upon it, are no less instructive. The opposition, by le,;
and parliamentary methods, to prerogatives unk iown to
the constitution, was doubtless formed upon the justest
fears in behalf of it. But new distrusts arose: new
causes were given for them: these were most unreas Dnably




218         A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE
aggravated. The better part gradually gave way to the
more violent: and the better part themselves seem to
have insisted upon impracticable securities against that
one danger to liberty, of which thley had too great cause
to be apprehensive; and wonderfully overlooked all
dangers to it, which yet were, and ever will be, many and
great.  Thus they joined inl the current measures, till
they were utterly unable to stop the mischiefs, to which,
with too much distrust on one side, and too little on the
other, they had  contributed.  Never was a more
remarkable example of the Wise Man's observation, that
the beyinninql of strijf is a.s when one letteth out water.*
For this opposition, thus begun, surely without intent of
proceeding to violence; yet, as it went on, like an overflowing stream in its progress, it collected all sort of
imnpurities, and grew more outrageous as it grew more
corrupted; till at length it bore down every thing good
hlefore it.  This naturally brought on arbitrary power in
(ile shape, which was odious to every body, and which
co.uld not be accommodated to the forms of our constitu
tion; and put us in the utmost danger of having it entailed
upon us under another, which might.  For at the king's
return, such was the just indignation of the public at
what it had seen, and fear of feeling again what it had
felt, from the popular side; such the depression and:o mpliance, not only of the more guilty, but also of those,.vlho with better meaning had gone on with them; and a
great deal too far many of this character had gone; and
such the. undistinguishing distrust the people had of
them all, that the chief security of our liberties seems to
have been, their not being attempted at that time.
But though persons contributed to all this mischief
and danger with different degrees of guilt, none could
coiitribute to them  with innocence, who at all knew
w!i t they were about.  Indeed the destruction of a free,'.ostitution of government, though men see or fancy
im;ny defects in it, and whatever they design or pretend,
llught not to be thought of without horror.  For the design is in itself unjust, since it is romantic to suppose it
legal: it cannot be prosecuted without the most wicked
l Prov. xvii. 14.




THIE HOUSE OF LORDS.           219
means; nor accomplished but with the present ruin of
liberty, religious as well as civil; for it must be the ruin
of its present security. Whereas the restoration of it
must depend upon a thousand future contingencies, the
integrity, understanding, power of the persons, into
whose hands anarchy and confusion should throw things;
and who they will be, the history before us may surely
serve to show, no human foresight can determine; even
though such a terrible crisis were to happen ii an age,
not distinguished for the want of principle and public
spirit, and when nothing particular were to be apprehended from abroad.  It would be partiality to say, that
no constitution of government can possibly be imagined
more perfect than our own. And ingenuous youth may
be warmed with the idea of one, against which nothing
call be objected. But it is the strongest objection against
attempting to put in practice the most perfect theory, that
it is impracticable, or too dangerous to be attempted.
And whoever will thoroughly consider, in what degree
mankind are really influenced by reason, and in what
degree by custom, may, I think, be convinced, that the
state of human affairs does not even admit of an equivalent for the mischief of setting things afloat; and the
danger of parting with those securities of liberty, which
arise from regulations of long prescription and ancient
usage; especially at a time when the directors are so
very numerous, and the obedient so few. Reasonable
men therefore will look upon the general plan of our
constitution, transmitted down to us by our ancestors, as
sacred; and content themselves with calmly doing what
their station requires, towards rectifying the particular
things which they think amiss, and supplying the particular things which they think deficient in it, so far as is
practicable without endangering the whole.
But liberty is in many other dangers from itself, besides those which arise from formed designs of destroying
it, under hypocritical pretences, or romantic schemes of
restoring it upon a more perfect plan. It is particularly
liable to become excessive, and to degenerate insensibly
into licentiousness; in the same manner as liberality,
for example, is apt to degenerate into extravagance.




~20         A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE
And as men cloak their extravagance to themselves
under the notion of liberality, and to the world under
the name of it, so licentiousness passes under the name
and notion of liberty. Now it is to be observed, that
there is, in some respects or other, a very peculiar
contrariety between those vices which consist in excess,
and the virtues of which they are said to be the excess,
and the resemblance, and whose names they affect to
bear; the' excess of any thing being always to its hurt,
and tending to its destruction. In this manner licentiousness is, in its very nature, a present infringement
upon liberty, and dangerous to it for the future.  Yet it
is treated by many persons with peculiar indulgence
under this very notion, as being an excess of liberty.
And an excess of liberty it is to the licentious themselves: but what is it to those who suffer by them, and
who do not think, that amends is at all made them by
having it left in their power to retaliate safely P When
by popular insurrections, or defamatory libels, or in any
like way, the needy and the turbulent securely injure
quiet people in their fortune or good name, so far quiet
people are no more free than if a single tyrant used them
thus. A particular man may be licentious without being
less free: but a community cannot; since the licentiousness of one will unavoidably break in upon the liberty
of another. Civil liberty, the liberty of a community, is
a severe and a restrained thing; implies in the notion of
it, authority, settled subordinations, subjection, and obedience; and is altogether as much hurt by too little of
this kind, as by too much of it. And the love of liberty,
when it is indeed the love of liberty, which carries us to
withstand tyranny, will as much carry us to reverence
authority, and support it; for this most obvious reason,
that one is as necessary to the very being of liberty, as
the other is destructive of it.  And therefore the love ot
liberty, which does not produce this effect; the love ot
liberty, which is not a real principle of dutiful behaviour
towards authority; is as hypocritical, as the religion
which is not productive of a good life.  Licentiousness
is, in truth, such an excess of liberty as is of the same
ntature with tyi anny. For what is the difference between




THE HOUSE OF LORDS.              221
them, but that one is lawless power exercised under pretence of authority, or by persons invested with it; the
other lawless power exercised under pretence of liberty,
or without any pretence at allP A people then must
always be less free in proportion as they are more licentious; licentiousness being not only different from liberty,
but directly contrary to it; a direct breach upon it.
It is moreover of a growing nature; and of speedy
growth too; and, with the culture which it has amongst
us, needs no great length of time to get to such a height
as no legal government will be able to restrain, or subsist under: which is the condition the historian describes
in saying, they could neither bear their vices, nor the
remedies of them.* I said legal government: for, in the
present state of the world, there is no danger of our becoming savages.  Had licentiousness finished its work,
and destroyed our constitution, power would not be
wanting, from one quarter or another, sufficient to subdue us, and keep us in subjection. But government, as
distinguished from mere power, free government, necessarily implies reverence in the subjects of it, for authority, or power regulated by laws; and an habit of submis.sion to the subordinations in civil life, throughout its
several ranks: nor is a people capable of liberty without
somewhat of this kind. But it must be observed, and
Aess surely cannot be observed, this reverence and submnission will at best be very precarious, if it be not
founded upon a sense of authority being God's ordinance, and the subordinations in life a providential appointment of things. Now let it be considered, for surely
it is not duly considered, what is really the short amount
of those representations, which persons of superior rank
give, and encourage to be given of each other, and which
are spread over the nation? Is it not somewhat, in
itself, and in its circumstances, beyond any thing in any
other age or country of the world P  And. what effect
must the continuance of this extravagant licentiousness
in them, not to mention other kinds of it, have upon the
people in those respects just mentioned P Must it not
necessarily tend to wear out of their minds all reverence
* Nec vitia nostra, nec remedia pati possumus.-Liv. lib. i. c. 1.




222          A SERMON PREACEIILD BEFORE
for authority, and respect for superiors of every sort,
and, joined with the irreligious principles we find so industriously propagated, to introduce a total profligateness
amongst them; since, let them be as bad as they will,
it is scarce possible they can be so bad as they are instructed they may be, or worse than they are told their
superiors areP And is there no danger that all this, to
mention only one supposable course of it, may raise
somewhat like that levelling spirit, upon atheistical principles, which, in the last age, prevailed upon enthusiastic
ones? not to speak of the possibility, that different sorts
of people may unite in it upon these contrary principles.
And may not this spirit, together with a concurrence of
ill humours, and of persons who hope to find their account in confusion, soon prevail to such a degree, as will
require more of the good old principles of loyalty and of
religion to withstand it, than appear to be left amongst usP
What legal remedies can be provided against these
mischiefs, or whether any at all, are considerations the
farthest from  my thoughts.  No government can be
free, which is not administered by general stated laws:
and' these cannot comprehend every case, which wants
to be provided against: nor can new ones be made for
every particular case, as it arises: and more particular
laws, as well as more general ones, admit of infinite
evasions: and legal government forbids any but legal
methods of redress; which cannot but be liable to the
same sort of imperfections: besides the additional one
of delay; and whilst redress is delayed, however unavoidably, wrong subsists.  Then there are very bad
things, which human authority can scarce provide
against at all, but by methods dangerous to liberty; nor
fully, but by such as would be fatal to it. These things
show, that liberty, in the very nature of it, absolutely
requires, and even supposes, that people be able to
govern themselves in those respects in which they a.,
free; otherwise their wickedness will be in proportion.
to their liberty, and this greatest of blessings will beco::
a curse.
III. These things show likewise, that there is b,,l
one adequate remedy to the forementioned evils, evil:




THE HOUSE OF LORDS.            223
that which the apostle prescribes in the last words of
the text, to consider ourselves as the servants of God,
who enjoins dutiful submission to civil authority, as his
ordinance; and to whom we are accountable for the use
we make of the liberty which we enjoy under it. Since
men cannot live out of society, nor in it without government, government is plainly a divine appointment; and
consequently submission to it, a most evident duty of
the law of nature.  And'we all know in how forcible a
manner it is put upon our consciences in Scripture.
Nor can this obligation be denied formally upon any
principles, but such as subvert all other obligations.
Yet many amongst us seem not to consider it as any
obligation at all. This doubtless is, in a great measure,
owing to dissoluteness and corruption of manners: but
I think it is partlv owving to their having reduced it to
nothing in theory. Whereas this obligation ought to be
put upon the same foot with all other general ones,
which are not absolute and without exception: and our
submission is due in all cases but those, which we really
discern to be exceptions to the generalrule.  And they
who are perpetually displaying the exceptions, thoughl
they do not indeed contradict the meaning of any particulJar texts of Scripture, which surely intended to make
no alteration in men's civil rights; yet they go against
the general tenor of Scripture.  For the Scripture,
throughout the whole of it, commands submission;
supposing men apt enough of themselves to make the
exceptions, and not to need being continually reminded
of them. Now if we are really under any obligations of
duty at all to magistrates, honour and respect, in our
behaviour towards them, must doubtless be their due.
And they who refuse to pay them this small and easy
regard, who despise dominion, and speak evil of dignities,*
should seriously ask themselves, what restrains them
from any other instance whatever of undutifulness P
And if it be principle, why not from this P Indeed free
government supposes, that the conduct of affairs may be
inquired into, and spoken of with freedom. Yet surely
this should be dolie with decency, for the sake of liberty
* Jude S.




224            A SERMON PREACHED
itself; for its honour and its security. But be it do ne
as it will, it is a very different thing from libelling, and
endeavouring to vilify the persons of such as are iD
authority. It will be hard to find an instance, in which
a serious man could calmly satisfy himself in doing this
It is in no case necessary, and in every case of very
pernicious tendency. But the immorality of it increases
in proportion to the integrity and superior rank of the
persons thus treated.  It is therefore in the highest
degree immoral, when it extends to the supreme authority in the person of a prince, from whom our liberties
are in no imaginable danger, whatever they may be
from ourselves; and whose mild and strictly legal
government could not but make any virtuous people
happy.
A free government, which the good providence of
God has preserved to us through innumerable dangers,
is an invaluable blessing. And our ingratitude to him
in abusing of it must be great in proportion to the greatness of the blessing, and the providential deliverances
by which it has been preserved to us. Yet the crime of
abusing this blessing receives further aggravation from
hence, that such abuse always is to the reproach, and
tends to the ruin of it. The abuse of liberty has directly
overturned many free governments, as well as our own,
on the popular side; and has, in various ways, contributed
to the ruin of many, which have been overturned on the
side of authority. Heavy therefore must be their guilt,
who shall be found to have given such advantages against
it, as well as theirs who have taken them.
Lastly, The consideration, that we are the servants of
God, reminds us, that we are accountable to him for our
behaviour in those respects, in which it is out of the
reach of all human authority; and is the strongest
enforcement of sincerity, as all things are naked and open
unto the eyes of him with whom we have to do.*  Artificial
behaviour might perhaps avail much towards quieting
our consciences, and making our part good in the short
competitions of this world: but what will it avail us
considered as under the government of God?  Under
* Heb. iv. 13.




AT CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDION.             229
his government, there is no darkness, nor shadow of deatA,
where the workers of iniquity may hide themselves.*  He
has indeed instituted civil government over the face of
the earth, Jbr the punishment of evil-doers, and for the
praise, the apostle does not say the rewarding, but, for
the praise of them that do well.+  Yet as the worst answer
these ends in some measure, the best can do it very
imperfectly.  Civil government can by no means take
cognizance of every work, which is good or evil; many
thtinqs are done in secret; the authors unknown to it,
arid often the things themselves: then it cannot so much
consider actions, under the view of their being morally
good, or evil, as under the view of their being mischievous,
or beneficial to society: nor can it in any wise execute
judBgment in rewarding what is good, as it can, and ought,
and does, in punishing what is evil. But God shall bring
every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether
it be good, or whether it be evil.S
SERMON IV.
PREACHED IN THE PARISH CHURCH OF CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON, ON
TIIURSDAY, MAY 9, 1745, BEING THE TIME OF THE YEARLY MEETING
OF THE CHILDREN EDUCATED IN THE CHARITY-SCHOOLS IN AND ABOUT
THE CITIES OF LONDON AND WESTMI'NSTER.
Train up a child in the way he should go: an7d when he is old, he
will niot depart from it.-Prov. xxii. 6.
HUMAN creatures, fiom  the constitution of their nature
and the circumstances in which they are placed, cannot
but acquire habits during their childhood, by the impressions which are given them, and their own customary
actions. And long before they arrive at mature age,
these habits form a general settled character. And the
observation of the text, that the most early habits are
usually the most lasting, is likewise every one's observation. Now whenever children are left to themselves,
and to the guides and companions which they choose, or
by hazard light upon, we find by experience, that the first
* Job xxxiv. 22.  t lPet. i. 14.  $ Eccles. xiU. i




2~6             A SERMON PREACHED
impressions they take, and course of action they get into,
are very bad; and so consequently must be their habits,
and character, and future behaviour. Thus if they are
not trained up in the way they should go, they will
certainly be trained up in the way they should not go,
and in all probability will persevere in it, and become
miserable themselves, and mischievous to society: which,
in event, is worse, upon account of both, than if they
had been exposed to perish in their infancy. On the
other hand, the ingenuous docility of children before
they have been deceived, their distrust of themselves,
and natural deference to grown people, whom they find
here settled in a world where they themselves are
strangers; and to whom they have recourse for advice, as
readily as for protection; which deference is still greater
towards those who are placed over them: these things
give the justest grounds to expect that they may receive
suich impressions, and be influenced to such a course of
behaviour, as will produce lasting good habits; and,
together with the dangers before mentioned, are as truly
a natural demand upon us to train them up in the wai'they should go, as their bodily wants are a demand to
provide them bodily nourishment.  Brute creatures are
appointed to do no more than this last for their offspring,
nature forming themn by instincts to the particular
manner of life appointed them; from which they never
deviate.  But this is so far from being the case of men,
that, on the contrary, considering communities coll:ctively, every successive generation is left, in the ordinary
course of Providence, to be formed by the preceding
one; and becomes good or bad, though not without its
own merit or demerit, as this trust is discharged or
violated, chiefly in the management of youth.
We ought, doubtless, to instruct and admonish grown
persons; to restrain  them  from  what is evil, and
encourage them in what is good, as.we are able: but
this care of youth, abstracted from all consideration of
the parental affection, I say, this care of youth, which is
the general notion of education, becomes a distinct
subject, and a distinct duty, firom the particular danger
of their ruin, if left to themselves, and the particular




AT CHRIST-CHURCH, L )NDON.          227
reason we have to expect they will do well, if due care
be taken of them.  And from  hence it follows, that
children have as much right to some proper education,
as to have their lives preserved; and that when this is
not given them by their parents, the care of it devolves
upon all persons, it becomes the duty of all, who are
capable of contributing to it, and whose help is wanted.
These trite, but most important things, implied indeed
in the text, being thus premised as briefly as I could
express them, I proceed to consider distinctly the
general manner in which the duty of education is there
laid before us: which will further show its extent, and
further obviate the idle objections which have been
made against it. And all this together will naturally
lead us to consider the occasion and necessity of schools
for the education of poor children, and in what light tlhe
objections against them are to be regarded.
Solomon might probably intend the text for a particular admonition to educate children in a manner
suitable to their respective ranks, and future empl.o —
ments: but certainly  he intended it for a general
admonition to educate them in virtue and religion, alndt
good conduct of themselves in their temporal concerns.
And all this together, in which they are to be educated,
he calls the way they should go, i. e. he mentions it not
as a matter of speculation, but of practice.  And conformably to this description of the things in which
children are to be educated, he describes education
itself: for he calls it training them up; which is a very
different thing from merely teaching them some truths,
necessary to be known or believed. It is endeavouring
to form such truths into practical principles in the mind,
so as to render them of habitual good influence upon the
temper and actions, in all the various occurrences of
life. And this is not done by bare instruction; but by
that, together with admonishing them frequently as
occasion offers; restraining them from what is evil, and
exercising them in what is good. Thus the. precept of
the apostle concerning this matter is to bring up children
in tlh nurture and admonition of the Lord;* as it were
* Eph. vi. 4.




228            A SERMON PREACHED
by way of distinction from acquainting them merely with
the principles of Christianity, as you would with any
common theory. Though education were nothing more
than informing children of some truths of importance to
them, relating to religion and common life, yet there
would be great reason for it, notwithstanding the frivolous
objections concerning the danger of giving them prejudices.  But when we consider that such information
itself is really the least part of it; and that it consists in
endeavouring to put them into right dispositions of mind,
and right habits of living, in every relation and every
capacity; this consideration shows such objections to be
quite absurd: since it shows them to be objections
against doing a thing of' the utmost importance at the
natural opportunity of our doing it, childhood and youth;
and which is indeed, properly speaking, our only one.
For when they are grown up to maturity, they are out
of our hands, and must be left to themselves.  The
natural authority on one side ceases, and the deference
on the other. God forbid, that it should be impossible
for men to recollect themselves, and reform at an
advanced age: but it is in no sort in the power of others
to gain upon them; to turn them away from what is
wrong, and enforce upon them what is right, at that
season of their lives, in the manner we might have done
in their childhood.
Doubtless religion requires instruction, for it is founded
in'knowledge and belief of some truths. And so is
common prudence in the management of our temporal
affairs  Yet neither of them consist in the knowledge
or belief even of these fundamental truths; but in our
being brought by such knowledge or belief to a correspondent temper and behaviour.  Religion, as it stood
under the Old Testament, is perpetually styled the fear
of God: under the New, faith in Christ.  But as that
fear of God does not signify literally being afraid ol' him,
but having a good heart, and leading a good life, in
consequence of such fear; so this faith in Christ does
not signify literally believing in him in the sense that
word is used in common language, but becoming his
real disciples, in consequence of such belief.




AT CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON.          22.
Our religion being then tlrus practical, consisting in. a
frame of mind and course of behaviour, suitable to thldispensation we are under, and which will bring us to our
final good; children ought, by education, to be habituated
to this course of behaviour, and formed into this frame
of mind. And it must ever be re'membered, that if nc
care be taken to do it, they will grow up in a direct
contrary behaviour, and be hardened in direct contrary
habits. They will more and more corrupt themselves,
and spoil their proper nature. They will alienate themselves further from  God; and not only neglect, but
trample under foot, the means which he in hisr infinite
mercy has appointed for our recovery. And upon the
whole, the same reasons, which show, that they ought to
be instructed and exercised in what will render them useful
to society, secure them from the present evils they are in
danger of incurring, and procure them that satisfactioln
which lies within the reach of human prudence, show
likewise, that they ought to be instructed and exercised
in what is suitable to the highest relations in which we
stand, and the most important capacity in which we can
be considered; in that temper of mind and course of
behaviour, which will secure them from their chief evil,
and bring them to their chief good. Besides that religion's the principal security of men's acting a right part in
society, and even in respect to their own temporal
happiness, all things duly considered.
It is true indeed, children may be taught superstition,
under the notion of religion; and it is true also, that,
under the notion of prudence, they may be educated in
great mistakes as to the nature of real interest and good,
respecting the present world. But this is no more a
reason for not educating them according to the best of
our judgment, than our knowing how very liable we all
are to err in other cases, is a reason why we should not,
in those other cases, act according to the best of our
judgment.
It being then of the greatest importance, that children
should be thus educated, the providing schools to give
this education to such of them as would not otherwise
have it, has the appearance, at least at first sight, of




230            A SERMON PREACHED
deserving a place amongst the very best of good workr,
One would be backward, methinks, in entertaining
prejudices against it; and very forward, it' one had any,
to lay them aside, upon being shown that they wer.
groundless.  Let us consider the whole state of the case.
For though this will lead us some little compass, yet I.
choose to do it; and the rather, because there are people
who speak of charity-schools as a new invented scheme,
and therefore to be looked upon with I know not what
suspicion. Whereas it will appear, that the scheme of
charity-schools, even the part of it which is most looked
upon in this light, teaching the children letters and
accounts, is no otherwise new, than as the occasion for it
is SO.
Formerly not only the education of poor children, but
also their maintenance, with that of the other poor, were
left to voluntary charities. But great changes of different
sorts happening over the nation, and charity becoming
more cold, or the poor more numerous, it was found
necessary to make some legal provision for them. This
might, much more properly than charity-schools, be called
a new scheme. For, without question, the education of poor
children was all along taken care of by voluntary charities,
more or less: but obliging us by law to maintain the poor,
was new in the reign of queen Elizabeth. Yet, because
a change of circumstances made it necessary, its novelty
was no reason against it. Now in that legal provision
for the maintenance of the poor, poor children must
doubtless have had a part in common with grown people.
But this could never be sufficient for children, because
their case always requires more than mere maintenance;
it requires that they be educated in some proper manner.
Wherever there are poor who want to be maintained by
charity, there must be poor children who, besides this,
want to  be educated by charity.  And whenever
there began to be need of legal provision for the
maintenance of the poor, there must immediately have
been need also of some particular legal provision
in behalf of poor children for their education; this
not being included in what we call their maintenance.
And many whose parents are able to maintain them,




AT CnRIST CHURCH, LONDON.            231
ani do so, may yet be utterly neglected as to their
education. But possibly it Inight not at first be attended
to, that the case of poor chlildren was thus a case by
itself, which required its own particular provision. Certainly it would not appear, to the generality, so urgent a
one as the want of food and raiment.  And it miht -be
necessary, that a burden so entirely new as that of a
poor-tax was at the time I am speaking of, should be as
light as possible.  Thus the legal provision for the poor
was first settled; without any particular consideration of
that additional want in the case of children; as it still
remains, with scarce any alteration in this respect.  I,
the mean time, as the poor still increased, or charity stiil
lessened, many poor childrcn were left exposed, not to
perish for want of food, but to grow up in society, and
learnu every thing that is evil and nothing that is good i,,
it; and when they were grown up, greatly at a loss ill
what honest way to provide for themselves, if they
could be supposed inclined to it.  And larger numbers,
whose case was not so bad as this, vet were very fan'
from  having due care taken of their education.  Anti
the evil went on increasing, till it was grown to such a1
degree, as to be quite out of the compass of separla!e
charities to remedy. At length some excellent persons,
who were united in a Society* for carrying on almost
every good work, took into consideration the neglected
case I have been representing; and first of all, as I
understand it, set up charity-schools; or however pro[noted them, as far as their abilities and influence could
extend. Their design was not in any sort to remove
poor children out of the rank in which they were born,
ut, keeping them in it, to give them the assistance
which their circumstances plainly called for; by educating
them in the principles of religion, as well as civil lite;
and likewise making some sort of provision for their
maintenance: under which last I include clothing them,
giving them such learning, if it is to be called by that
name, as may qualify them for some common employment, and placing them out to it as they grow up.
These t~wo) general designs coincide in many respects,
* iociety for promoting Christian Knowled4e.




232             A SERMON PREACHED
and cannot be separated. For teaching the children to
read, though 1 have ranked it under the latter, equally
belongs to both: and without some advantages of the
latter sort, poor people would not send their children to
our charity-schools: nor could the poorest of all be
admitted into any schools, without some charitable provision of clothing. And care is taken, that it be such
as cannot but be a restraint upon the children.  And ii
this, or any part of their education, gives them any little
vanity, as has been poorly objected,  whilst they are
children, it is scarce possible but that it will have even
a quite contrary effect when they are grown up, and
ever after remind them of their rank.  Yet still we find
it is apprehended that what they here learn may set them
above it.
But why should people be so extremely apprehensive
of the danger, that poor persons will make a perverse
use of every the least advantage, even the being able to
read, whilst they do not appear at all apprehensive of
the like danger for themselves or their own children, in
respect of riches or power, how much soever; though
the danger of perverting these advantages is surely
as great, and the perversion itself of much greater and
worse consequence P  And by what odd reverse of
things has it happened, that such as pretend to be
distinguished for the love of liberty should be the only
persons who plead for keeping down the poor, as one
may speak; for keeping them  more inferior in this
respect, and which must be the consequence, in other
respects, than they were in times past? For till within
a century or two all ranks were nearly upon a level as to
the learning in question. The art of printing appears to
have been providentially reserved till these latter ages,
and then providentially brought into use, as what was to
be instrumental for the future in carrying on the appointed course of things. The alterations which this art
has even already made in the face of the world are not
inconsiderable. By means of it, whether immediately or
remotely, the methods of carrying on business are, in
several respects, improved, knowledge has been increased,'




AT CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON.   2:
and some sort of literature is become general.  And if
this be a blessing, we ought to let the poor', in their
degree, share it with us.  The present state of things
and course of providence plainly leads us to do so.
And if we do not, it is certain, how little soever it bhe
attended to., that they will be upon a greater disadvantage,
on many accounts, especially in populous places, than
they were in the dark ages: for they will be more ignorant, comparatively with the people about them, than
they were then; and the ordinary affairs of the world
are now put in a way which requires that they should
have some knowledge of letters, which was not the case
then.  And therefore to bring up the poor in their former
ignorance, now this knowledge is so Tnuch more common
and wanted, would be, not to keep them in the same, but
to put them into a lower condition of life than what they
were in formerly.  Nor let people of rank flatter themselves, that ignorance will keep their inferiors more
dutiful and in greater subjection to them: for surely
there must be danger that it will have a contrary effect
under a free government such as ours, and in a dissolute
dge.  Indeed the principles and manners of thl-l poor, as
to virtue and religion, will always be greatly influenced,
as they always have been, by the example of their superiors, if that would mend the matter. And this influence
will, I suppose, be greater, if they are kept more inferior
than formerly in all knowledge and improvement. But,nless their superiors of the present age, superiors, I
mean of the middle, as well as higher ranks in society,
are greater examples of public spirit, of dutiful submission
to authority, human and divine, of moderation in diversions, and proper care of their families and domestic
affairs; unless, I say, superiors of the present age are
greater examples of decency, virtue, and religion, than
those of former times; for what reason in the world is
it desirable that their example should have this greater
influence? over the poor.P On the contrary, why should
not the poor, by being taught to read, be put into a
capacity of making some improvement in moral and
religious knowledge, and confirming themselves in those
good principles, which will be a great security for their




234             A SERMON PREACHED
following the example of their superiors if it be good,
an(d some sort of preservative against their following it it
it be bad? And serious persons will further observe
very singular reasons for this amongst us; from the
discontinuance of that religious intercourse betweer
pastors and people in private, which remain in Protes-.
tant churches abroad, as well as in the church of Rome,
and from our small public care and provision for keeping
up a sense of religion in the lower rank, except by
distributing religious books.  For in this way they have
been assisted; and any well-disposed person may do
much good amongst them, and at a very trifling expense,
since the worthy Society before mentioned has so greatly
lessened the price of such books.  But this pious charity
is an additional reason why the poor should be taught
to read, that they may be in a capacity of receiving the
benefit of it. Vain indeed would- be the hope, that any
thing in this world can be fully secured from. abuse. For
as it is the general scheme of divine Providence to bring
good out of evil; so the wickedness of men will, if it be
possible, bring evil out of good. But upon the whole,
incapacity and ignorance mnust be favourable to error and
vice; and knowledge and improvement contribute, in
due time, to the destruction of impiety as well as superstition, and to the general prevalence of true religion.
But some of these observations may perhaps be thought
too remote from  the present occasion.  It is more
obviously to the purpose of it to observe, that reading,
writing, and accounts, are useful, and, whatever cause it
is owing to, would really now be wanted in the very
lowest stations: and that the trustees of our charitvschools are fully convinced of the great fitness of joining
to instruction easy labour, of some sort or other, as fast
as it is practicable; which they have already been able
to do in some of them.
T'hen as to placing out the poor children, as soon as
they are arrived at a fit age for it; this must be approved
by every one, as it is putting them in a way of industry
under domestic government, at a time of life, in some
respects, more dangerous thlan even childhood.  And it
is a known thing, that care is taken to do it in a nmanner




AT CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON.          235
which does not set them above their rank: though it is
not possible always to do it exactly as one would wish.
Yet, i hope it may be observed without offence, if any
of them happen to be of a very weakly constitution, or
of a very distinguished capacity, there can be no impropriety in placing these in employments adapted to theit
particular cases; though such as would be very improper
for the generality.
But the principal design of this charity is to educate
poor children in such a manner, as has a tendency to
make them  good, and useful, and contented, whatever their particular station be. The care of this is
greatly neglected by the poor: nor truly is it more
regarded by the rich, considering what might be expected
from them.  And if it were as practicable to provide
charity-schools, which should  supply  this  shameful
neglect in the rich, as it is to supply the like, though more
excusable, neglect in the poor, I should think certainly,
that both ought to be done for the same reasons.  And
most people, I hope, will think so too, if they attend to
the thing I am speaking of; which is the moral and
religious part of education; what is equally necessary for
all ranks, and grievously wanting in all. Yet in this
respect the poor must be greatly upon a disadvantage,
from the nature of the case; as will appear to any one
who will consider it.
For if poor children are not sent to school, several
years of their childhood of course pass away in idleness'
and loitering.  This has a tendency to give them perhaps
a feeble listlessness, perhaps a headstrong profligateness
of mind; certainly an indisposition to proper application
as they grow up, and an aversion afterward, not only to
the restraints of religion, but to those which any particular calling, and even the nature of society, require.
Whereas children kept to stated orders, and who many
hours of the day are in employment, are by this means
habituated both to submit to thcse who are placed over
them, and to govern themselves; and they are also by
this means prepared for industry, in any way of life in
which they may be placed. And all this holds abstracted
from the consideration of their being taught to read'




,2.)           A SERMON PREACHED
without which, however, it will be impracticable to
temnploy their time: not to repeat the unanswerable reasons for it before mentioned. Now several poor people
cannot, others will not be at the expense of sending their
children to school. And let me add, that such as can
and are willing, yet if it be very inconvenient to them,
ought to be eas ed of it, and the burden of children made
as light as may be to their poor parents.
Consider next the manner in which the children of the
poor, who have vicious parents, are brought up, in comparison with other children whose parents are of the
same character. The children of dissolute men of fortune may have the happiness of not seeing much of their
parents. And this, even though they are educated at
home, is often the case, by means of a customary distance between them, which cannot be kept amongst the
poor. Nor is it impossible that a rich man of this
character, desiring to have his children better than himself, may provide them such an education as may make
them so, without his having any restraint or trouble in
the matter.  And the education which children of better
rank must have, for their improvement in the common
accomplishments belonging to it, is of course, as yet, for
the most part, attended with some sort of religious education. But the poor, as they cannot provide persons to
educate their children; so, from the way in which they
live together in poor families, a child must be an eye
pm.d ear witness of the worst part of his parents' talk
and behaviour.  And it cannot but be expected, that
his own will be formed upon it.  For as example
in general has very great influence upon all persons.
especially children, the example of their parents is
of authority with them, when there is nothing to balance
it on the other side. Now take in the supposition, that
these parents are dissolute, profligate people; then, over
and above giving their children no sort of good instruction,
and a very bad example, there are more crimes than one,
in which, it may be feared, they will directly instruct andi
encourage them; besides letting them  r"tu1 b!e abroad
wherever they will, by which, of course, they learn the
very same principles and manners they do at home. And




AT CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON.         287
from all these things together, such poor children will
have their characters formed to vice, by those whose
business it is to restrain them from it. They will be
disciplined and trained up in it. T'his surely is.a case
which ought to have some public provision made for it.
If it cannot have an adequate one, yet such a one as it
can: unless it be thought so rare as not to deserve our
attention.  But in reality, though there should be no
more parents of this character amongst the poor, in
proportion, than amongst the rich, the case which I have
been putting will be far from being uncommon. Now,~otwithstanding the danger to which the children of such
wretched parents cannot but be exposed, from what they
see at home; yet by instilling into them the principles of
virtue and religion at school, and placing them soon out
in sober families, there is ground to hope they may avoid
those ill courses, and escape that ruin, into which, without
this care, they would almost certainly run.  I need not
add how much greater ground there is to expect, that
those of the children who have religious parents will do
well. For such parents, besides setting their children a
good example, will likewise repeat and enforce upon them
at home the good instructions they receive at school.
After all, we find the world continues very corrupt.
And it would be miraculous indeed, if charity-schools
alone should make it otherwise: or if they should
make even all who are brought up in them  proof
against its corruptions.  The truth is, every method
that can be made use of to prevent or reform the bad
manners of the age, will appear to be of less effect, in
proportion to the greater occasion there is for it; as
cultivation, though the most proper that can be, will
produce less fruit, or of a worse sort, in a bad climate
than in a good one. And thus the character of the
common people, with whom these children are to live, in
the ordinary intercourse of business and company when
they come out into the world, may more or less defeat
the good effects of their education. And so likewise
may the character of men of rank, under whose influence
they are to live. But whatever danger may be apprehended from either or both of these. it can be no reason




238             A SERMON PREACHED
why we should not endeavour, by the likeliest methods
we can, to better the world, or keep it from growing worse.
The good tendency of the method before us is unquestionable.  And I think myself obliged to add. that
upon a comparison of parishes where charity-schools
have been for a considerable time established, with
neighbouring ones, in like situations, which have had
none, the good effects of them, as I am very credibly
informed, are most manifest.  Notwithstanding   I freely
own, that it is extremely difficult to make the necessary
comparisons in this case, and form a judgment upon
them.  And a multitude of circumstances must come in
to determine, from appearances only, concerning the
positive good which is produced by this charity, and the
evil which is prevented by it; which last is full as material
as the former, and can scarce be estimated at all.  But
surely there can be no doubt whether it be useful or not,
to educate children in norder, virtue, and religion.
However, suppose, which is yet far from being the case,
but suppose it should seem, that this undertaking did not
answer the expense and trouble of it, in the civil or
political way of considering things.  What is this to
l)'rsons who profess to be engageod in it, not only upon
mere civil views, but upon mnoral and Christian ones?
We are to do our endeavours to promote virtue and
religion amongst men, and leave the success to God: the
designs of his providence are answered by these endeavours, whether they will hear, or whether they will Jbrbear;
i. e. whatever be the success of them: and the least
success in such endeavours is a great and valuable effect.*
From these foregoing observations, duly considered,
it will appear that the objections, which have been made
against charity-schools, are to be regarded in the same
light with those which are made against any other
necessary things; for instance, against providing for the
sick and the aged poor.  Objections in this latter case
could be considered no otherwise than merely as warnings
of some inconvenience which might accompany such
charity, and might, more or less, be guarded against, thc
charity itself being still kept up; or as proposals fox
* See the Sermon before the Society for the ropgaption of the Gospel.




AT CHRIST-CHURCH, LONDON.           239
placing it upon some better foot. For though, amidst
the disorder and imperfection in all hu:mnan things, these
objections were not obviated, they could not however
possibly be understood as re-sons for discontinuing such
charity; because, thus understood, th-ey would be reasons
for leaving necessitous people to perish.  Well-disposed
persons therefore will take care, that they be not deluded
with objections against this before us, any more than
against other necessary  charities; as though  sucli
objections were reasons for suppressing them, or oiat
contributing to their support, unless we can procure an
alteration of that to which we object.  There can be
no possible reasons for leaving poor children in that
imminent danger of ruin, in which many of these must
be left, were it not for this charity. Thereftore objections
against it cannot, from the nature of the case, amount to
more than reasons for endeavouring, whether with or
without success, to put it upon a right and unexceptionable foot, in the particular respects objected against.
And if this be the intention of (he objectors, the managers
of it have shown themselves remarkably ready to second
them: for they have shown even a docility in receiving
admonitions of any thing thoughlt atmiss in it, and proposals for rendering it more complete: and, under the
influence of this good spirit, the management of it is
really improving; particularly in greater endeavours to
introduce manufactures into these schools; and in more
particular care to place the children out to employments
in which they are most wanted, and may be most
serviceable, and which are most suitable to their ranks.
But if there be any thing in the management of them,
which some particular persons think should be altered,
and others are of a contrary opinion, these things must
be referred to the judgment of the public, and the determination of the public complied with. Such compliance
is an essential principle of all charitable associations;
for without it they could not subsist at all: and by
charitable associations, multitudes are put in mind to do
good, who otherwise would not have thought of it; and
infinitely more good may be done, than possibly can by
the separate endeavours of the same number of charitable




240               A SERMON, ETC.
persons. Now lie who refuses to help forward the good
work before us, because it is not conducted exactly in
his own way, breaks in upon that general principle of
union, which those who are friends to the indigent and
distressed part of our fellow creatures will be very
cautious how they do in any case: but more especially
will they beware, how they break in upon that necessary
principle in a case of so great importance as is the
present. For the public is as much interested in the
education of poor children, as in the preservation of their'
lives.
This last, I observed, is legally provided for. The
former is left amongst other works of charity, neglected
by many who care for none of these things, and to be
carried on by such only as think it their concern to be
doing good. Some of you are able, and in a situation,
to assist in it in an eminent degree, by being trustees,
and overlooking the management of these schools; or in
different ways countenancing and recommending them;
as well as by contributing to their maintenance: others
can assist only in this latter way. In what manner and
degree then it belongs to you, and to me, and to an-y
particular person, to help it forward, let us all consider
seriously, not for one another, but each of us for himself.
And may the blessing of Almighty God accompany this
work of charity, which he has put into the hearts of
his servants, in behalf of these poor children; that
being now trained up in the way they should go, when
they are old they may not depart fjom it. May he, of his
mercy keep them safe amidst the innumerable dangers
of this bad world, through which they are to pass,
and preserve them unto his heavenly kingdom.




A SERMON, ETC.                 241
SERMON V.
PIUACNMD BEFORE THE HOUSE OF LORDS, IN THE ABBEY-CHURCH OF WEST.
MINSTE', ON THURSDAY, JUNE 11, 1747, BEING THE ANNIVERSARY OF HIS
dAJESTY'S HAPPY ACCESSION TO THE THRONE.
l exhort, that, first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, aria
qiving of thanks, be madefor all men; for kings, andfor all that
are in authority; that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life, in
all godliness and honesty.-l Tim. ii. 1, 2.
IT is impossible to describe the general end which Pro
vidence has appointed us to aim at in our passage through
the present world, in more expressive words than these
very plain ones of the apostle, to lead a quiet and peaceable life, in all godliness and honesty: a quiet and peaceable lift, by way of distinction, surely, from eager tumultuary pursuits in our private capacity, as well as ina
opposition both to our making insurrections in the state,
and to our suffering oppression from it.  To lead a quiet
and peaceable life in all godliness and honesty, is the whole
that we have any reason to be concerned for. To this
the constitution of our nature carries us; and our external
condition is adapted to it.
Now in aid to this general appointment of Providenc',
civil government has been instituted over the world, both
by the light of nature and by revelation, to instruct men
in the duties of fidelity, justice, and regard to common
good, and enforce the practice of these virtues, without
which there could have been no peace or quiet amongst
mankind; and to preserve, in different ways, a sense of
religion as well as virtue, and of God's authority over us
For if we could suppose men to have lived out of govern.
ment, they must have run wild, and all knowledge of
divine things must have been lost from  among them.
But by means of their uniting under it, they have been
preserved in some tolerable security from the fraud and
violence of each other; order, a sense of virtue, and the
practice ot'i, has been in some measure kept up; and
reiigion, more or less pure, has been all along spread and
propagated.  So that I make no scruple to affirm, that




242         A SERMON PREACHED BEFURE
civil government has been, in all ages, a standing publication of the law of nature, and an enforcement of it;
though never in its perfection, for the most part greatly
corrupted, and I suppose always so in some degree.
And considering that civil government is that part of
God's government over the world, which he exercises by
the instrumentality of men, wherein that which is oppression, injustice, cruelty, as coming from them, is under his
direction, necessary discipline, and just punishment;
considering that all power is of God,* all authority is
properly of divine appointment; men's very living under
magistracy might naturally have led them to the contemplation of authority in its source and origin; the one,
supreme, absolute authority of Almighty God; by which
he doeth according to his will in the army of heaven, and
among the inhabitants of the earth:' which he now exerts,
visibly and invisibly, by different instruments, in different
forms of administration, different methods of discipline
and punishment; and which he will continue to exert
hereafter, not only over mankind when this mortal life
shall be ended, but throughout his universal kingdom;
till, by having rendered to all according to their works,
he shall have completely executed that just scheme of
government, which he has already begun to execute in
this world, by their hands, whom he has appointed, for
the present punishment of evil-doers, andfor the praise of
them that do well.;
And though that perfection of justice cannot in any
sort take place in this world, even under the very best:governments; yet under the worst, men have been,enabled to lead much more quiet and peaceable lives, as
well as attend to and keep up a sense of religion much
more, than they could possibly have done without any:government at all. But a free Christian government is
adapted to answer these purposes in a higher degree, in
proportion to its just liberty, and the purity of its religious establishment.  And as we enjoy these advantages,
civil and religious, in a very eminent dea, ee, under E
good prince, and those he has placed in dutthority over
wus, we are eminently obliged to offer up supplicationrs'* Rn. om. Diiia. 1.  D. i 3  1 Pet ii. 14.




THE HOUSE OF LORDS.            243
and thanksgivings in their behalf; to pay them all that
duty which these prayers imply; and to lead, as those
advantages enable and have a tendency tar dispose us to
do, quiet and peaceable lives in all godliness and honesty.
Of the former of these advantages, our free constitution of civil government, we seem to have a very high
value. And if we would keep clear from abuses of it,
it could not be overvalued; otherwise than as every thing
may, when considered as respecting this world only. We
seem, 1 say, sufficiently sensible of the value of our civil
liberty. It is our daily boast, and we are in the highest
degree jealous of it. Would to God we were somewhat
more judicious in our jealousy of it, so as to guard
against its chief enemy, one might say, the only enemy
of it, we have at present to fear; I mean licentiousness;
which has undermined so many free governments, and
without whose treacherous help no free government,
perhaps, ever was undermined.  This licentiousness
indeed is nct only dangerous to liberty, but it is actually
a present infringement of it in many instances.-But I
must not turn this good day into a day of reproach.
Dropping then the encroachments which are made upon
our liberty, peace, and quiet by licentiousness, we are
certainly a freer nation than any other we have an account
of; and as free, it seems, as the very nature of government will permit. Every man is equally under the
protection of the laws; may have equal justice against
the most rich and powerful; and securely enjoy all the
common blessings of life, with which the industry of his
ancestors, or his own, has furnished him. In some other
countries the upper part of the world is free, but in Great
Britain the whole body of the people is free. For we
have at length, to the distinguished honour of those who
began, and have more particularly laboured in it,
emancipated our northern provinces from most of
their legal remains of slavery: for voluntary slaverv
cannot be abolished, at least not directly, by law. I take
leave to speak of this long-desired work as done; since
it wants only his concurrence, who, as we have found by
many years' experience, considers the good of his people
as his own. And I cannot but look upon these acts ot
02




244          A SERMON PREACHED IEFORE
tlhe legislature in a further view, as instances of regard to
posterity; and declarations of its readiness to put every
subject upon an equal foot of security and freedom, if any
of them are not so, in any other respects, which conice
into its view; and as a precedent and example for doing it.
Liberty, which is the very genius of our civil constitu —
tion, and runs through every branch of it, extends it.
influence to the ecclesiastical part of it.  A  religiot:s
establishment without a toleration of such as think tl:ev
cannot in conscience' conform to it, is itself a gi n;.real
tyranny; because  it claims  absolute  authority overconscience; and would soon beget particular kinds of
tyranny of the worse sort, tyranny over the mind, and(
various superstitions; after the way should be paved fbr
them, as it soon must, by ignorance. On the other hand,
a constitution of civil government without any religious
establishment is a chimerical project, of which there is
no example: and whicli, leaving the generality without
guide and instruction, must leave religion to be sunk and
forgotten amongst them; and at the same time give full
scope to superstition, and the gloom of enthusiasm; which
last, especially, ought surely to be diverted and checked,
as far as it can be done without force. Now a reasonable
establishment provides instruction for the ignorant,
withdraws them, not in the way of force, but of guidance,
from running after those kinds of conceits. It doubtless
has a tendency likewise to keep up a sense of real
religion and real Christianity in a nation; and is moreover
necessary for the encouragement of learning; some parts
of which the scripture revelation absolutely requires
should be cultivated.
It is to be remarked further, that the value of any
particular religious establishment is not to be estimated
merely by what it is in itself, but also by what it is in
comparison with those of other nations; a comparison
which will sufficiently teach us not to expect perfection
in human things. And what is still more material, the
value of our own ought to be very much heightened in
our esteem, by considering what it is a security from; I
mean that great corruption of Christianity, popery, which
ls ever hard at work to bring us again under its yoke.




THE HOUSE OF LORDS.              245
Whoever will consider the popish claims, to the disposal
of the whole earth, as of divine right, to dispense with
the most sacred engagements, the claims to supreme
absolute authority in religion; in short, the general clairr;
which the canonists express by the words plenitude:J
power-whoever, I say, will consider popery as it is
professed at Rome, may see, that it is manifest, open
usurpation of all human and divine authority. But everp
in those Roman Catholic countries where these monstrous
claims are not admitted, and the civil power does, iln
many respects, restrain the papal; yet persecution is
professed, as it is absolutely  enjoined  by what is
acknowledged to be their highest authority, a general
council, so called, with the pope at the head of it; and is
practised in all of them, I think without exception, where
it can be done safely. Thus they go on to substitute
force instead of argun, ent; and external profession made
by force instead of reasonable conviction. And thus corruptions of the grossest sort have been in vogue, for many
generations, in parts many of Christendom; and are so
still, even where popery obtains in its least absurd form:
and their antiquity and wide extent are insisted upon as
proofs of their truth; a kind of proof, which at best can
be only presumptive, but which loses all its little weight,
in proportion as the long and large prevalence of such
corruptions have been obtained by force.
Indeed it is said in the book of Job, that the worship
of the sun and moon was an iniquity to be punished by the
judge.*  And this, though it is not so much as a precept,
much less a general one, is, I think, the only passage of
scripture which can with any colour be alleged in favour
of persecution of any sort: for what the Jews did, and
what they were commanded to do, under their theocracy,
are both quite out of the case. But whenever that book
was written, the scene of it is laid at a time when idolatry
was in its infancy, an acknowledged novelty, essentially
destructive of true religion, arising perhaps from mere
wantonness of imagination.  In these circumstances,
this greatest of evils, which afterwards laid waste true
religion over the face of the earth, might have been
* Job xxxi. 26, 27, 28.




246         A SERMONT PREACHED BEFORE
suppressed at once, without danger of mistake or abuse,
And one might go on to add, that if those to whom the
care of this belonged, instead of serving themselves oi
prevailing superstitions, had in all ages and countries
opposed them in their rise, and adhered faithfully to that
primitive religion, which was received of old, since man
was placed upon earth;' there could not possibly have
been any such difference of opinion concerning the
Almighty Governor of the world, as could have given
any pretence for tolerating the idolatries which overspread
it. On the contrary, his universal monarchy must have
been universally recognised, and the general laws of it
more ascertained and known, than the municipal ones of
any particular country can be. In such a state of religion,
as it could not but have been acknowledged by all mankind, that immorality of every sort was disloyalty to him,
the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name
is holy;t so it could not but have been manifest, that
idolatry, in those determinate instances of it, was plain
rebellion against him; and therefore might have been
punished as an offence, of the highest kind, against the
Supreme Authority in nature. But this is in no sort
applicable to the present state of religion in the world.
For if the principle of punishing idolatry were now admitted amongst the several different parties in religion, the
weakest in every place would run a great risk of being
convicted of it; or however heresy and schism would
soon be found crimes of the same nature, and equally
deserving punishment. Thus the spirit of persecution
would range without any stop or control, but what should
arise from  its want of power.  But our religious
establishment disclaims all principles of this kind, and
desires not to keep persons in its communion, or gain
proselytes to it, by any other methods than the Christian
onses of argument and conviction.
These hints may serve to remind us of the value we
ought to set upon our constitution in Church and State,
the advantages of which are the proper subjects of our
commemoration on this day, as his majesty has shown
himself, not in words, but in the whole course of his reign,
* Job xx. 4.      + Isaiah lvii. 15.




THE HOUSE OF LORDS.             247
the guardian and protector of both. And the blessings
o() his reign are not only rendered more sensible, but
are really heightened, by its securing us from that
pretender to his crown, whom we had almost forgot, till
our late danger renewed our apprehensions; who, wc
know, is a professed enemy to our church; and grown
old in resentments and maxims of government directly
contrary to our civil constitution; nay his very claim is
founded in principles destructive of it. Our deliverance
and our security from this danger, with all the other
blessings of the king's government, are so many reasons,
for supplications, prayers, intercessions, and giving oj
thanks, to which we are exhorted; as well as for all
other dutiful behaviour towards it; and should also
remind us to take care and make due improvement of
those blessings, byT leading, in the enjoyment of them,
quiet and peaceable lives, in all godliness and honesty.
The Jewish church offered sacrifices even for heathen
princes to whom  they were in subjection: and the
primitive Christian church, the Christian sacrifices of
supplications and prayers for the prosperity of the
emperor and the state; though they were falsely accused
oi being enemies to both, because they would not join
in their idolatries. In conformity to these examples of
the church of God in all ages, prayers for the king and
those in authority under him are part of the daily service
of our own. And for the day of his inauguration a
particular service is appointed, which we are here
assembled in the house of God to celebrate.  This is
the first dutv we owe to kings, and those who are in.
authority under them, that we make prayers and
thanksgivings for them. And in it is comprehended,
what yet may be considered as another, paying them
honour and reverence. Praying for them is itself an
instance and expression of this, as it gives them a part
in our highest solemnities.  It also reminds us of that
further honour and reverence which we are to pay them,
as occasions offer, throughout the whole course of our
behaviour.  Fear God, honour the king,* are apostolic
precepts; and despising government, and speaking evil of
* I Pet. ii. 17.




248         A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE
dignities, apostolic descriptions of such as are reserved
unto the day of judgment to be punished.t And if these
evil speeches are so highly criminal, it cannot be a thing
very innocent to make a custom of entertaining ourselves with them.
Further, if we are to pray, that we may, that it maj
1~ permitted us, to lead a quiet and peaceable life, we
i;! ght surely to live so, when, by means of a mild, equal
-overnment, it is permitted us; and be very thankful,
ift'st to God, and then to those whom  he makes the
instruments of so great good to us, and pay thenm all
obedience and duty; though every thing be not conductea
according to our judgment, nor every person in employinent whom  we may think deserving of it.  Indeed
opposition, in a legal, regular way, to measures which a
pIerson thinks wrong, cannot but be allowed in a free
government.  It is in itself just, and also keeps up the
spirit of liberty. But opposition, from indirect motives,
to measures which he sees to be necessary, is itself
immoral: it keeps up the spirit of licentiousness; is the
greatest reproach of liberty, and in many ways most
dangerous to it; and has been a principal means of
overturning free governments. It is well too if the legal
subjection to the government we live under, which may
accompany such behaviour, be not the reverse of
C/ristian subjection; subjection for wrath only, and not
Jbr conscience' sake.t And one who wishes well to his
country will beware how he inflames the common
people against measures, whether right or wrong, which
they are not judges of. For no one can foresee how far
such disaffection will extend; but every one sees, that it
diminishes the reverence which is certainly owing to
authority. Our due regards to these things are indeed
instances of our loyalty, but they are in reality as much
instances of our patriotism too. Happy the people who
live under a prince, the justice of whose government
renders them coincident.
Lastly, As by the good providence of God we were
born under a free government, and are members of a. pure
reformed church, both of which he has wonderfully
* 2 Pet. i. 10.  t 2 Pet ii. 9.  $ Rom. xiii. 5.




THE HOUSE OF LORDS.               2-t9
preserved through infinite dangers; if we do not take
heed to live like Christians, nor to govern ourselves with
decency in those respects in which we are free, we shall
be a dishonour to both. Both are most justly to be valued:
Lbut they may be valued in the wrong place. It's no more
a recommendation of civil, than it is of natural noerty,*
that it must put us into a capacity of behaving ill.  Let
us then value our civil constitution, not because it leaves
us the power of acting as mere humour and passion carry
us, in those respects, in which governments less free lay
men under restraints; but for its equal laws, by which
the great are disabled from oppressing those below therm.
Let us transfer, each of us, the equity of this our civil
constitution to c:ir whole personal character; and be sure
to be as much afraid of subjection to mere arbitrary will
and pleasure in ourselves, as to the arbitrary will of
others.  For the tyranny of our own lawless passions is
the nearest and most dangerous of all tyrannies.
Then as to the other part of our constitution; let us
value it, not because it leaves us at liberty to have as
little religion as we please, without being accountable to
human judicatories; but because it affords us the means
and assistances to worship God according to his word;
because it exhibits to our view, and enforces upon our
conscience, genuine Christianity, free from the superstitions with which it is defiled in other countries. These
superstitions naturally tend to abate its force: our profession of it in its purity is a particular call upon us to
yield ourselves up to its Jidl influence; to be pure in
heart;t to be holy in all manner of conversation.t  Much
of the form of yodliness is laid aside amongst us: this itself
should admonish us to attend more to the power thereol~
We have discarded many burdensome ceremonies: let u.J
be the more careful to cultivate inward religion. We have
thrown off a multitude of superstitious practices, which
were called good works: let us the more abound in all
moral virtues, these being unquestionably such.  Thtls
our lives will justify and recommend the reformation;
and we shall adorn tle doctrine of God our Saviour in call
things.ll 
* Natural liberty as opposed to necessity, or fate
t MatL v. 6.  t 1 Pet. i. 15.  ~ 2 Tim. iii. &.  | Titus ii. 10.




250       A SERMON, PRiEACHlED BEFORE TIlE
SERM ON VI.
PREACHED BEFORE HIS GRACE CHARLES DUKE OF RICHIMOND, PRESI~:ANT
AND THE GOVERNORS OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY, FOR TV E RELIEF 01~
SICK AND DISEASED PERSONS, ESPECIALLY MANUFACTURERS, AND SEAMEN
IN MERCHANT-SERV ICE, &c. AT THE PARISH CHURCH OF ST LAWRENCEJEWRY ON THURSDAY, MARCH 31, 1748.
And, above all thin s, have fervent charity among y.ourselves: for
charity shall cover the multitude of sins. —  Pet. iv. 8.
As we owe our being, and all our faculties, and the vei y
opportunities of exerting them, to Almighty God, and are
plainly his and not our own, we are admonished, even
though we should have done all those things which are
commanded us, to say, WVe are unprofitable servants.'
And with much deeper humility must we make this
acknowledgment, when we consider in how many things
we have all ofended.t  But still the behaviour of such
creatures as men, highly criminal in some respects, may
vet in others be such as to render them the proper objects
of mercy, and, our Saviour does not decline saying,
thought worthy of it.t  And, conformably to our natural
sense of things, the Scripture is very express, that mercy,
forgiveness, and, in general, charity to our fellow creatures,
has this efficacy in a very high degree.
Several copious and remote reasons have been alleged,
why such pre-eminence is given to this grace or virtue;
some of great importance, and none of them perhaps
without its weight. But the proper one seems to be
very short and obvious, that by fervent charity, with a
course of beneficence proceeding from it, a person may
Imlake amends for the good he has blamably omitted,
and the injuries he has done, so far, as that society
would have no demand upon him for such his misbePaviour; nor consequently would justice have any in
behalf of society, whatever it might have upon other
accounts. Thus by fervent charity he may even merit
forgiveness of men: and this seems to afford a very
singular reason why it mav be graciously granted him
* Luke xvii. 10.    j James'iii. 2.: Luke xx. 36.




GOVERNOIS' O0 2TiH L,`NDON INFIRTMARY.   2i 
by God; a very singular reason, the Christian covenia 
of pardon always supposed, why divine justice should
permit, and divine mercy appoint, that such his charit9
should be allowed to cover the  rultitude of sins.
And this reason leads mne to observe, what Scripture
and the whole nature of th-e thing shows, that the charity
here meant must be suchi hearty love to our fellow
creatures, as produceth a settled endeavour to promote,
according to the best of our judgment, their real lastinlg
good, both present and fiuture; and not that easiness of
temper, which-with peculiar propriety is expressed by
the word good-humour, and is a sort of benevolent
instinct left to itself, without the direction of our judgment.  For this kind of good-humour is so far from
making the amends before mentioned, that, though it be
agreeable in conversation, it is often most mischievous
in every other intercourse of life; and always puts men
out of a capacity of doing the good they might, if they
could withstand importunity, and the sight of distress,
when the case requires they should be withstood; many
instances of which cases daily occur, both in public andti
private. Nor is it to be supposed, that we can any more
promote the lasting good of' our fellow creatures, by
acting from mere kind inclinations, without considering
what are the proper means of promoting it, than that we
can attain our own personal good, by a thoughtless pursuit
of every thing which pleases us. For the love of our
neighbour, as much as self-love, the social affections, as
much as the private ones, from their very nature, require
to be under the direction of our judgment. Yet it is to
be remembered, that it does in no sort become such a
creature as man to harden himself against the distresses
of his neighbour, except where it is really necessary;
and that even well-disposed persons may run into great
perplexities, and great mistakes too, by being oversolicitous in distinguishing what are the most proper
occasions for their charity, or who the greatest objects of
it.  And therefore, as on the one side we are obliged
to take some care not to squander that which, one may
say, belongs to the poor, as we shall do, unless we
competently satisfy ourselves beforehand, that what we




252       A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE TlIE
put to our account of charity will answer some good
purpose; so on the other side, when we are competently
satisfied of this, in any particular instance before us, we
ought by no means to neglect such present opportunity
of doing good, under the notion of making further
inquiries: for of these delays there will be no end.
Having thus briefly laid before you the ground of that
singular efficacy, which the text ascribes to charity in
general; obviated the objection against its having this
efficacy; and distinguished the virtue itself from its
counterfeits; let us now proceed to observe the genuineness and excellency of the particular charity, which we
are here met together to promote.
Medicine and every other relief, under the calamity o]
bodily diseases and casualties, no less than the daily necessaries of life, are natural provisions, which God has
made for our present indigent state; and which he has
granted in common to the children.of men, whether they
be poor or rich: to the rich by inheritance, or acquisition;
and by their hands to the disabled poor.
Nor can there be any doubt, but that public infirmaries
are the most effectual means of administering such relief
besides that they are attended with incidental advantage,
of great importance: both which things have been fulls
shown, and excellently enforced, in the annual sermons
upon this and the like occasions.
But indeed public infirmaries are not only the best
they are the only possible means by which the pool,
especially in this city, can be provided, in any competent
measure, with the several kinds of assistance, which
bodily diseases and casualties require. Not to mention poor
foreigners; it is obvious no other provision can be made
for poor strangers out of the country, when they are overtaken by these calamities, as they often must be, whilst
they are occasionally attending their affairs in this centre
of business. But even the poor who are settled here are
in a manner strangers to the people amongst whom they
live; and, were it not for this provision, must unavoidably
be neglected, in the hurry and concourse around thlem,
and be left unobserve-d to languish in sickness, and uaffer
extremely, much more than the- could in less populous




GOVERNORS OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY.   253
places; where every one is known to every one; and
any great distress presently becomes the common talk;
and where also poor families are often under the particular protection of some or other of their rich neighbours,
in a very different way from what is commonly the case
here. Observations of this kind show, that there is a
peculiar occasion, and even a necessity, in such a city as
this, for public infirmaries, to which easy admittance
may be had: and here in ours no security is required,
nor any sort of gratification allowed; and that they
ought to be multiplied, or enlarged, proportionably to
the increase of our inhabitants: for to this the increase
of the poor will always bear proportion; though less in
ages of sobriety and diligence, and greater in ages of
profusion and debauchery.
Now though nothing, to be called an objection in the
way of argument, can be alleged against thus providing
for poor sick people, in the properest, indeed the only
way in which they can be provided for; yet persons of
too severe tempers can, even upon this occasion, talk in;- manner, which, contrary surely to their intention, has
a very malignant influence upon the spirit of charitytalk of the ill deserts of the poor, the good uses they
might make of being let to suffer more than they do,
under distresses which they bring upon themselves, or
however might, by diligence and frugality, provide,against; and the idle uses they may make of knowing
beforehand that they shall be relieved in case of those
dtistresses. Indeed there is such a thing as a prejudice
against them, arising from their very state of poverty,
which ought greatly to be guarded against; a kind of
prejudice,.to which perhaps most of us, upon some
occasions, and in some degree, may inattentively be
liable, but which pride and interest may easily work up
to a settled hatred of them; the utter reverse of that
amiable part of the character of Job, that he was afather
to the poor.*  But it is undoubtedly fit, that such of
them as are good and industrious should have the satisfaction of knowing beforehand, that they shall be
e!lieved Tjnder diseases and casualties: and those, it is
* Job axix. 16.




254       A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE
most obvious, ought to be relieved preferably to otners.
But these others, who are not of that good character,
might possibly have the apprehension of those calamities
in so great a degree, as would be very mischievous, and
of no service, if they thought they must be left to perish
under them. And though their idleness and extravagance are very inexcusable, and ought by all reasonable
methods to be restrained; and they are highly to be
blamed for not making some provision against age and
supposable disasters, when it is in their power; yet it is
not to be desired, that the anxieties of avarice should be
added to the natural inconveniences of poverty.
It is said, that our common fault towards the poor is
not harshness, but too great lenity and indulgence. And
if allowing them in debauchery, idleness, and open
beggary; in drunkenness, profane cursing and swearing
in our streets, nay in our houses of correction; if this be
lenity, there is doubtless a great deal too much of it.
And such lenity towards the poor is very consistent witht
the most cruel neglects of them, in the extreme misery
to -which those vices reduce them. Now though this
last certainly is not our general fault; yet it cannot be
said every one is free from it.  For this reason, and
that nothing, which has so much as the shadow of an
objection against our public charities, may be entirely
passed over, you will give me leave to consider a little
the supposed case above mentioned, though possibly
some may think it unnecessary, that of persons reduced
to poverty and distress by their own faults.
Instances of this there certainly are. But it ought to
be very distinctly observed, that in judging which are
such, we are liable to be mistaken: and more liable to it,
in judging to what degree those are faulty, who really
are so in some degree. However, we should always
look with mildness upon the behaviour of the poor;
and be sure not to expect more from them than can be
expected, in a moderate way of considering things. We
should be forward not only to admit and encourage the
good deserts of such as do well, but likewise as to those
of them who do not, be ever ready to make duo allowances
for their bad education, or, which is the same, their




GOVERNORS OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY.    255
having had none; for what may be owing to the ill
example of their superiors, as well as companions, and
for temptations of all kinds. And remember always,
that be men's vices what they will, they have not forfeited
their claim to relief under necessities, till they have
forfeited their lives to justice.
Our heavenly Father is kind to the unthankful and to the
evil; and sendeth his rain on the just and on the unjust.*
And, in imitation of him, our Saviour expressly requires,
that our beneficence be promiscuous. But we have
moreover the divine example for relieving those distresses
which are brought upon persons by their own faults; and
this is exactly the case we are considering. Indeed the
general dispensation of Christianity is an example of this;
for its general design is to save us from our sins, and the
punishments which would have been the just consequence
of them. But the divine example in the daily course of
nature is a more obvious and sensible one. And
though the natural miseries which are foreseen to be
annexed to a vicious course of life are providentialiy
intended to prevent it, in the same manner as civil
penalties are intended to prevent civil crimes; yet those
miseries, those natural penalties admit of and receive
natural reliefs, no less than any other miseries, which
could not have been foreseen or prevented. Charitable
providence then, thus manifested in the course of nature,
which is the example of our heavenly Father, most
evidently leads us to relieve, not only such distresses as
were unavoidable, but also such as people by their own
faults have brought upon themselves. The case is, that
we cannot judge in what degree it was intended they
should suffer, by considering what, in the natural course
of things, would be the whole bad consequences of their
faults, if those consequences were not prevented, when
nature has provided means to prevent great part of them.
We cannot, for instance, estimate what degree of present
sufferings God has annexed to drunkenness, by considering the diseases which follow from this vice, as they
would be if they admitted of no reliefs or remedies; but
by considering the remaining misery of those diseases,
* Matt. v. 45. Luke vi. 35.




256       A SERMON PREACt'IED BEFORE THE
after the application of such remedies as nature has
provided.  For as it is certain on the one side, that those
diseases are providential corrections of intemperance, it
is as certain  on the other, that the remedies are
providential mitigations of those corrections; and alt -
gether as much providential, when administered by the
good hand of charity in the case of our neighbour, as
when administered by self-love in our own. Thus the
pain, and danger, and other distresses of sickness and
poverty remaining, after all the charitable relief which
can be procured; and the many uneasy circumstance,which cannot but accompany that relief, though distributes
with all supposable humanity; these are the natural cor
rections of idleness and debauchery, supposing these
vices brought on those miseries.  And very severe
corrections they are: and they ought not to be increased
by withholding that relief, or by harshness in the distribution of it. Corrections of all kinds, even the most
necessary ones, may easily exceed their proper bound:
andl when they do so, they become mischievous; and
mischievous in the measure they exceed it. And the
natural corrections which we have been speaking of
would be excessive, if the natural mitigations provided'for them were not administered.
Then persons who are so scrupulously apprehensive
of every thing which can possibly, in the most indirect
manner, encourage idleness and vice (which, by the way,
any thing may accidentally do), ought to turn their
thoughts to the moral and religious tendency of
infirmaries. The religious manner in which they are
carried on has itself a direct tendency to bring the
subject of religion into the consideration of those whom
they relieve; and, in some degree, to recommend it
to their love and practice, as it is productive of so
much good to them, as restored ease and health, and
a capacity of resuming their several employments. It is
to virtue and religion, they may mildly be admonished,
that they are indebted for their relief.  And  this,
amongst other admonitions of their spiritual guide, and
the quiet and order of their house, out of the way of
bad.examples, together with a regular course of devotion.




GOVERNORS OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY          25'
which it were greatly to be wished might be daily; these
means, it is to be hoped, with the common grace of
God, may enforce deeply upon their consciences those
serious considerations, to which a state of affliction
naturally renders the mind attentive, and that they will
return, as from a religious retreat, to their several
employments in. the world, with lasting impressions of
piety in their hearts. By such united advantages, which
these poor creatures can in no sort have any other way,
very remarkable reformations have been wrought.
Persons of the strictest characters therefore would give
a more satisfactory proof, not to the world, but to their
own consciences, of their desire to suppress vice and
idleness, by setting themselves to cultivate the religious
part of the institution of infirmaries, which, I think,
would admit of great improvements; than by allowing
thernmselves to talk in a manner which tends to discountcnance either the institution itself, or any particular
branch of it.
Admitting then the usefulness and necessity of these
kinds of charity, which indeed cannot be denied; yet
veery thain has its bounds.  And, in the spirit of severity
before mentioned, it is imagined, that people are enough
disposed, such, it seems, is the present turn, to contribute!arqell to them. And some, whether from dislike of the.hlarities themselves, or from mere profligateness, think
these formal recommendations of them at church every year
miyght very well be spared.
But surely it is desirable, that a customary way should
it kept open for removing prejudices as they may arise
~a2,%inst these institutions; for rectifying any misrepresentations which may, at any time, be made of them;
and informing the public of any new emergencies; as
well as for repeatedly enforcing the known obligations of
charity, and the excellency of this particular kind of it.
Then sermons, you know, amongst Protestants, always
of course accompany these more solemn appearances in
the house of God: nor will these latter be kept up
without the other.  Now public devotions should evei
attend and consecrat.. public charities.  And it would
be a sad tpresage of thie Jecav of these:-'hartities, if ever




258       A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE
they should cease to be professedly carried on in tlhe
fear of God, and upon the principles of religion. It may
be added, that real charitable persons will approve of
these frequent'exhortations to charity, even though they
should be conscious that they do not themselves stand
iar need of them, upon account of such as do.  And such
can possibly have no right to complain of being too often
admonished of their duty, till they are plhased to practise
it. It is true indeed, we have the satisfaction of seeing
a spirit of beneficence prevail, in a very commendable
degree, amongst all ranks of people, and in a very
distinguished manner in some persons amongst the
highest; yet it is evident, too many of all ranks are very
deficient in it, who are of great ability, and of w.hom
much might be expected. Though every thing therefore
were done in behalf of the poor which is wanted, yet
these persons ought repeatedly to be told, how highly
blamable they are for letting it be done without them;
and done by persons, of whom great numbers must have
much less ability than they.
But whoever can really think, that the necessities of
the disabled poor are sufficiently provided for already,
must be strangely prejudiced.  If one were to send you
to them themselves to be better informed, you would
readily answer, that their demands would be very extravagant; that persons are not to be their own judges in
claims of justice, much less in those of charity.  You
then, I am speaking to the hard people above mentioned,
you are to judge, what provision is to be made for the
necessitous, so far as it depends upon your contributions.
But ought you not to remember that you are interested,
ltat you are parties in the affair as well as they.  For is
e.;ot the giver as really so as the receiver?  And as there
is danger that the receiver will err one way, is there not
danger that the giver may err the otherP since it is not
matter of arbitrary choice, which has no rule, but matter
of real equity, to be considered as in the presence of
God, what provision shall be made for the poor P And
therefore, though you are yourselves the only judges,
what you will do in their behalf, for the case admits no
other; yet let me tell you, you will not be ie_.partiai,




GOVERNORS OF THE LONDON  INFIRMARY        259
you will not be equitable judges, until you have, guarded
against the influence which interest is apt to have upon
your judgment, and cultivated within you the spirit of
charity to balance it. Then you will see the various
remaining necessities which call for relief.  But that
there are many such must be evident at first sight to the
most careless observer, were it only from hence, that
both this and the other hospitals are often obliged to
reject poor objects which offer, even for want of room,
or wards to contain them.
Notwithstanding many persons have need of these
admonitions, yet there is a good spirit of beneficence, as
I observed, pretty generally prevailing.' And I must
congratulate you upon the great success it has given to
the particular good work before us; great, I think,
beyond all example for the time it has subsisted. Nor
would it be unsuitable to the present occasion to recount
the  particulars of this success.  For the necessary
accommodations which have been provided, and the
niumbers who have been relieved, in so short a time,
cannot but give high reputation to the London Infirmary.
And the reputation of any particular charity, like credit
in trade, is so much real advantage, without the incon.veniences to which that is sometimes liable. It will
}bring in contributions for its support; and men of
character, as they shall be wanted, to assist in the.management of it; men of skill in the professions, meni
of conduct in business, to perpetuate, improve, and
brinl it to perfection.  So that you, the contributors to
this charity, and more especially those of you by whose
immediate care and economy  it is in so high repute, a'ce
encoturaged to go on with your labour of love,* not only
1Sr the present good, which you see is here done, but
likewise by the prospect of what will probably be done,
by your means, in future times, when this infirmary shall
become, as I hope it will, no less renowned than the city
in which it is established.
But to see how far it is from beinlg yet complete, for
want of contributions, one need only look upon the
settled rules of the house for admnission of patients.  See
there the limitations which necessity prescribes, as to
Heb. vi. 10.
R.'




260       A SERMON 0REACHED BEFORE THE
the persons to be admitted. Read but that one order,
though others might be mentioned, that none who are
jludged to be in an asthmatic, consumptive, or dying condition,
be admitted on any account whatsoever. Harsh as these
words sound, they proceed out of the mouth of Charity
herself.  Charity pronounces it to be better, that poor
creatures, who might receive much ease and relief, should
be denied it, if their case does not admit of recovery,
rather than that others, whose case does admit of it, be
left to perish. But it shocks humanity to hear such an
alternative mentioned; and to think, that there should
be a necessity, as there is at present, for such restrictions,
in one of the most beneficent and best managed schemes
in the world. May more numerous or larger contributions, at length, open a door to such as these; that what
renders their case in the highest degree compassionable,
their languishing under incurable diseases, may- no longer
exclude them from the house of mercy.
But besides the persons to whom I have been now
more particularly speaking, there are others, who do not
cast about for excuses for not contributing to the relief
of the necessitous; perhaps are rather disposed to relieve
them; who yet are not so careful as they ought to be,
to put themselves into a capacity of doing it.  For we
are as really accountable for not doing the good which
we might have in our power to do, if we would manage
our affairs with prudence, as we are for not doing the
good which is in our power now at present. And hence
arise the obligations of economrny upon people in the
highest, as well as in the lower stations of life, in order
to enable themselves to do that good, which, without
economy, both of them must be incapable of; even
though without it they could answ,:r the strict demands
of justice; which yet we find neither of them can. A
good mnan sheweth favour, and lendethl; and, to enable
himself to do so, he will guide, his ffaairs with discretion.*
For want of this, many a one has reduced his family to
the necessity of asking relief from those public charities,
to which he miuhb. have left them in a condition of
largely contributi'g
As economy is tl:. dut- of all persons, without excep.
* Psalm cxii. 5.




GOVERNORS OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY.   261
tion, frugality and diligence are duties which particularly
belong to the middle as well as lower ranks of men,
and more particularly still to persons in trade and
commerce, whatever their fortunes be.  For trade and
commerce cannot otherwise be carried on, but is plainly
inconsistent with idleness and profusion: though indeed
were it only from regard to propriety, and to avoid
being absurd, every one should conform his behaviour
to what his situation in life requires, without which
the order of society must be broken in upon. And
considering how inherited riches and a life of leisure
are often employed, the generality of mankind have
cause to be thankful that their station exempts them
from so great temptations; that it engages them in a
sober care of their expenses, and in a course of application to business: especially as these virtues, moreover,
tend to give them, what is an excellent groundwork for
all others, a stayed equality of temper and command of
the'ir passions. But when a man is diligent and frugal,
in order to have it in his power to do good; when he is
more industrious, or more sparing perhaps than his
circumstances necessarily require, that he may have to
give to him that needeth;* when he labours in order to
support the weak;t such care of his affairs is itself charity, and th' actual beneficence which it enables him to
practise is additional charity.
You will easily see why I insist thus upon these things,
because I would particularly recommend the good
work before us to all ranks of people in this great city.
And I think I have reason to do so, from the consideration, that it very particularly belongs to them to promote
it. The gospel indeed teaches us to look upon every
one in distress as our neighbour, yet neighbourhood in
the literal sense, and likewise several other circumnstances, are providential recommendations of such and
such charities, and excitements to them; without which
the necessitous would suffer much more than they do at
present. For our general disposition to beneficence would
not be sufficiently directed, and in other respects would
be very ineffectual, if it were not called forth into action
* Ephes. iv.'8.     + Acts xi. 35.




262       A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE
by some or other of those providential circumstances,
which form particular relations between the rich and the
poor, and are of course regarded by every one in some
degree. But though many persons among you, both in
the way of contributions, and in other ways no less
useful, have done even more than was to be expected,
yet I must be allowed to say, that I ho not think the
relation the inhabitants of this city bear to the persons
for whom our infirmary was principally designed, is
sufficiently attended to by the generality; which may be
owing to its late establishment.  It is, vou know, designed principally for diseased manufacturers, seamen in
merchant-service, and their wives and children: and poor
manufacturers comprehend all who are employed in any
labour whatever belonging to trade and commerce. The
description of these objects shows their relation, and a
very near one it is, to you, my neighbours, the inhabitants of this city. If any of vour domestic servants wcre
disabled by sickness, there is none of you but would
think himself bound to do somewhat for their relief
Now these seamen and manufacturers are employed in
y-our immediate business. They are servants of mierclhants, and other principal traders; as much your.crvants as if they lived under your roof: though by
their not doing so, the relation is less in sight. And
supposing they do not all depend upon traders of lower
rank in exactly the same manner, yet many of them do;
and they have all connexions with you, which give them
a claim to your charity preferably to strangers.  They
are indeed servants of the public; and so are all industrious poor people as well as they.  But that does not
hinder the latter from  being more immediately yours.
And as their being. servants to the public is a general
recommendation of this charity to all other persons, so
their being more immediately yours. is, surely, a particular recommendation of it to you. Notwithstanding
all this, I will not take upon me to say, that every
one of you is blamable who does not contribute to
vour infirmary, for vypurs it is in a peculiar sense,
but I will say, that those of you who do are highly
commendable.  I will say more, that you promote a




GOVERNORS OF THE LONDON INFIRMARY.   263
oery excellent work, which your particular station is a
providential call upon you to proinote. And there can
be no stronger reason than this for doing any thing,
except the one reason, that it would be criminal to
omit it.
These considerations, methinks, might induce every
trader of highler rank in this city to become a subscriber
to the infirmary which is named from it; and others of
you to contribute somewhat yearly to it, in the way in
which smaller contributions are given. This would be
a most proper offering out of your increase to him,
whose 6lessiny maketh rich.*  Let it be more or less,
every man according as he purposeth in his heart; Vol
grudgingly, or oj'f necessity: for God loveth a cheerful giver.t
The large benefactions of some persons of ability may
be necessary  in the first establishment of a public
charity, and are greatly useful afterwards in maintaining
it: but the expenses of this before us, in the extent and
degree of perfection to which one would hope it might
be brought, cannot be effectually supported, any more
than the expenses of civil government, without the
contribution of great numbers.  You have already the
assistance of persons of highest rank and fortune, of
which the list of our governors, and the present appearance, are illustrious examples.  And their assistance
would be far from lessening by a general contribution to
it amongst yourselvc:s.  On the contrary, the general
contribution  to it amongst yourselves, which I have beetn
proposilng, would give it still higher repute, and more
invite such persons to continue their assistance, and
accept the honour of being in its direction.  For the
greatest persons receive honour from taking the direction
of a good work, as they likewise give honour to it. And
by these concurrent endeavours, our infirmary might at
length be brought to answer, in some competent measure, to the occasions of our city.
Blessed are they who employ their riches in promoting
so excellent a design.  The temporal advantages of
them are far from coming up, in enjoyment, to what
they promise at a distance.  But the distinguished
* Prov. x. 22.     t 2 Cor. iL. 7.




264       A SERMON PREACHED BEFORE THE
privilege, the prerogative of riches, is, that they increase
our power of doing good. This is their proper use. In
proportion as men make this use of them, thev imitate
Almighty God; and co-operate together with him. in
promoting the happiness of the world; and may expect
the most favourable judgment, which their case will
admit of, at the last day, upon the general, repeated
maxim of the gospel, that we shall then he treated
ourselves as we now treat others. They have moreover
the prayers of all good men, those of them particularly
whom they have befriended; and, by such exercise of
charity, they improve within themselves the temper of
it, which is the very temper of heaven. Consider next
the peculiar force with which this branch of charity,
almsgiving, is recommended to us in these words; He
that hath pity upon the poor lendeth unto the Lord:* and
in these of our Saviour, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch
as ye have done it, relieved the sick and needy, unto one
of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.t
Beware you do not explain away these passages of
Scripture, under the notion, that they have been made
to serve superstitious purposes: but ponder them fairly
in your heart; and you will feel them to be of irresistible
weight. Lastly, let us remember, in how many instances
we have all left undone those things which we ought to
have done, and done those things which we ought not
to have done. Now whoever has a serious sense of this
will most earnestly desire to supply the good, which he
was obliged to have done, but has not, and undo the
evil which he has'done, or neglected to prevent; and
when that is impracticable, to make amends, in some
other way, for his offences-I can mean only to our
fellow creatures. To make amends, in some way or
other, to a particular person, against whom we have
offended, either by positive injury, or by neglect; is an
express condition of our obtaining forgiveness of God,
when it is in our power to make it. And when it is not,
surely the next best thing is to make amends to society
by fervent charity, in a course of doing good: which
riches, as I observed, put very much within our power.
* Prov. xix. 17.  t Matt. xxv. 40.




'(;") VP NOR.S OF' T;1:. LO,)NDON IDNFIRMARY.    265
FIow ulthappy a choice then do those rich men make,
irtho sacrifice all these high prerogatives of their state,
to tile wretched purposes of dissoluteness and vanity, or
to the sordid itch of heaping up, to no purpose at all;
whilst in the mean time they stand charged with the
important trust, in which they are thus unfaithful, and
of which a strict account remains to be given!




CHARGE
DELIVERED TO
THE C LERGY
AT THE
PRIMARY VISITATION OF THE DIOCESS OF DURHAM,
IN THE YEAR MDCCLI.*
iT is impossible for me, my brethren, upon our first
meeting of this kind, to forbear lamenting with you the
general decay of religion in this nation; which is now
observed by every one, and has been for some time the
complaint of all serious persons. The influence of it is
more and more wearing out of the minds of men, even
of those who do not pretend to enter into speculations
upon the subject: but the number of those who do, and
who profess themselves unbelievers, increases, and with
their numbers their zeal.  Zeal, it is natural to ask-for
whatP   Wbhy trulyjbr nothing, but against every thin;,
that is good and sacred amongst us.
Indeed, whatever efforts are made against our religion,
no Christian can possibly despair of it. For he, who
has all power'in heaven and earth, has promised, that he
will be with us to the end of the world.  Nor can the
present decline of it be any stumbling-block to such as are
considerate; since he him-nself has so strongly expressed
what is as remarkably predicted in other passages of
Scripture, the great defection from his religion which
should be in the latter days, by that prophetic question,
When the Son of man cometh, shall he find faith upon the
* The publication of Bishop Butler's Charge, in the year 1751, was followed by a
pamphlet, printed ill 17 2, entitldl, " A Serious Inquiry into the Use and Importance
of External Religion, occasiollncd by some passages in the Right Reverend the Lord
Bishop of l)ulrham's Charge to the Cleir, y of thlat Diocess, &c., humbly addressed to
his Lordship."  rhis pamlplelt Ias been treprinted in a miscellaneous work: such part
of it as seemed most wortlhy of olbservation, the r;cderr will find in the followialg nat,
those passages of the Charge to whvich the ti,;aiphi.'t refvrs.




CHARGE TO THE CLERGY OF DJURITAM.      2G7
ecarth?  How near this time is, God only knows; but
this kind of Scripture signs of it is too apparent.  For
as different ages have been distingluished by different
sorts of particular errors and vices, the deplorable distinction of ours is an avowed scorn of religion in some,
and a growing disregard to it in the generality.
As to the professed enemies of religion, I know not
how often they'may come in your way; but often enough,
I fear, in the way of sorme at least amongst you, to
require consideration, what is the proper behaviour
towards them. One would, to be sure, avoid great
familiarities with these persons; especially if they affect
to be licentious and profane in their common talk. Yet
if you fall into their company, treat therl with the regards
which belong to their rank; for so we Mr:ust people who
are vicious in any other respect.  Wc s.hould study what
St James, with wonderful elegance and expressiveness,
calls meekness of wisdom, in our behaviour towards all
Inen; but more especially towards these imen; not so
much as being what we owe to them, but to ourselves
and our religion; that we may adorn the doctr'ine of God
our Saviour, in our carriage towards those who labour to
vilify it.
For discourse with them; the caution commonly given,
not to attempt answering objections which we have not
considered, is certainly just.  Nor need any one in a
particular case be ashamed frankly to acknowledge his
ignorance, provided it be not general. And though it
were, to talk of what he is not acquainted with, is a
dangerous method of endeavouring to conceal it. But a
considerate person, however qualified he be to defend
his religion, and answer the objections he hears made
against it, may sometimes see cause to decline that office.
Sceptical and profane men are extremely apt to bring up
tlhis subject at meetings of entertainment, and such as
are of the freer sort: innocent ones I mean, otherwise I
should not suppose you would be present at them. Now
religion is by far too serious a matter to be the hackney
subject upon these occasions. And by preventing its
being made so, you will better secure the reverence
which is due to it, than by entering into its defence.




268               CHARGE TO THE
Every one observes, that men's having examples of
vice often before their eyes, familiarizes it to the mind,
and has a tendency to take off that just abhorrence of
it which the innocent at first felt, even though it should
not alter their judgment of vice, or make them really
believe it to be less evil or dangerous. In like manner,
the hearing religion often disputed about in light familiar
conversation, has a tendency.to lessen that sacred regard
to it, which a good man would endeavour always to
keep up, both in himself and others. But this is not all:
people are too apt inconsiderately to take for granted,
that things are really questionable, because they hear
them often disputed. This indeed is so far from being
a consequence, that we know demonstrated truths have
been disputed, and even matters of fact, the objects of
our senses.  But were it a consequence, were the
evidence of religion no more than doubtful, then it
ought not to be concluded false any more than true, nor
denied any more than affirmed; for suspense would be
the reasonable state of mind with regard to it. And
then it ought in all reason, considering its infinite
importance, to have nearly the same influence upon
practice, as if it were thoroughly believed. For would
it not be madness for a man to forsake a safe road, and
prefer to it one in which he acknowledges there is an
even chance he should lose his life, though there were
an even chance likewise of his getting safe through it?
Yet there are people absurd enough, to take the supposed
doubtfulness of religion for the same thing as a proof oi
its falsehood, after they have concluded it doubtful fronm
hearing it often called in question. This shows how
infinitely unreasonable sceptical men are, with regard to
religion, and that they really lay aside their reason upon
this subject as much as the most extravagant enthusiasts.
But further, cavilling and objecting upon any subject is
much easier than clearing up difficulties: and this last
part will always be put upon the defenders of religion.
Now a man may be fully convinced of the truth of a
matter, and upon the strongest reasons, and yet not be
able to answer all the difficulties which may be raised
apon it.




CLERGY OF DURHAM.              2 69
Then again, the general evidence of religion is corn -
plex and various.  It consists of a long series of things,
one preparatory to and confirming another, from ther
very beginning of the world to the present time. And: is easy to see how impossible it must be, in a cursory
conversation. to unite all this into one argument, and
represent it as it ought; and, could it be done, how
utterly indisposed people would be to attend to it —I
say in a cursory conversation: whereas unconnected
objections are thrown out in a few words, and are easily
apprehended, without more attention than is usual in
common talk.  So that, notwithstanding we have the
best cause in the world, and though a man were very
capable of defending it, yet I know not why he should
be forward to undertake it upon so great a disadvantage,
and to so little good effect, as it must be done amidst
the gaiety and carelessness of common conversation.
But then it will be necessary to be very particularly
upon your guard, that you may not seem, by way of
compliance, to join in with any levity of discourse
respecting religion. Nor would one let any pretended
argument against it pass entirely without notice; nor any
gross ribaldry upon it, without expressing our thorough
disapprobation.  This last may sometimes be done by
silence: for silence sometimes is very expressive; as
was that of our blessed Saviour before the Sanhedrim
and before Pilate. Or it may be done by observing
mildly, that religion deserves another sort of treatment,
or a more thorough consideration, than such a time, or
such circumstances admit. However, as it is absolutely
necessary, that we take care, by diligent reading and
study, to be always prepared, to be ready always to give
an answer to every man that asketh a reason of the hope
that is in us; so there may be occasions when it will
highly become us to do it.  And then we must take
care to do it in the spirit which the apostle requires,
with meekness and fear:* meekness towards those who
give occasions for entering into the defence of our
religion; and with fear, not of them, but of God; with
that reverential fear, which the nature of religion requiws,
* 1 PO. mL1 




270                CHARGE TO THE
and which is so far from being inconsistent with, that it
will inspire proper courage towards men.  Now this
reverential fear will lead us to insist strongly upon the
infinite greatness of God's scheme of government, both
in extent and duration, together with the wise connexion
of its parts, and the impossibility of accounting fully for
the several parts, without seeing the whole plan of
Providence to which they relate; which is beyond the
utmost stretch of our understanding.  And to all this
must be added the  necessary deficiency of hunman
language, when things divine are the subject of it. These
observations are a proper full answer to many objections
and very material with regard to all.
But your standing business, and which requires constant attention, is with the body of the people; to revive
in them the spirit of religion, which is so much declining.
And it may seem, that whatever reason there be for
-aution as to entering into an argumentative defence of
~eligion in common conversation, yet that it is necessary to
to this from the pu/pit, in order to guard the people
Against being corrupted, however in some places.  But
then surely it should be done in a manner as little
fControversial as possible. For though such as are capable
ef seeing the force of objections are capable also of
seeing the force of the answers which are given to them;
yet the truth is, the people will not competently attend to
either. But it is easy to see which they will attend to
most.  And to hear religion treated of as what manv
deny, and which has much said against it as well as for
it; this cannot but have a tendency to give them ill
impressions at any time; and seems particularly improper
for all persons at a time of devotion; even for such as
are arrived at the most settled state of piety: I say at a
time of devotion, wiaen we are assembled to yield ourselves up to the full influence of the Divine Presence,
and to call forth into actual exercise every pious affection
of heart.  For it is to be repeated, that the heart and
course of affections may be disturbed when there is no
alteration of judgment. Now the evidence of religion may
be laid before men without any air of controversy. The
proof of the being of God, from final causes, or the design




CLERGY OF DURHAM.                              27i
and wisdom which appear's in every part of nature; together with the law of virtue written upon our hearts:* the
proof of Christianity from miracles, and the accomplishment of prophecies; and the confirmation which the
natural and civil history of the world give to the Scripture
account of things: these evidences of religion might
properly be insisted on, in a way to affect and influence
the heart, though there were no professed unbelievers
in the world; and therefore may be insisted on, without
taking much notice that there are such. And even their
* The author of the Inquiry, mentioned above, informs us, in his postscript, that
" the certain consequence of referring mankind to a law of nature, or virtue, written
upon their hearbt, is their having recourse to their own sense of things on all occasionls;
wxvaich being, in a great maijority, no better than family superstition, party-prtjudlice,
I(, self-interested artifice (perhaps a compound of all), will be too apt to overrule thL.
plain precepts of the gospel."  And he declares, he has " no better opinion of tlil,
clearness, certainty, uniformity, universality, &c., of this law, than" he has "of the
importance of external religion."  What then must we say to St Paul, who not only
aisserts, in the strongest terins, the reality of such a law, hut speaks of its obligation'is extending to all mankind? blaming some among the Gentiles as without excuse, foe
ntot adverling to and obetying it; and commending others for doing by nature (in contradistinction to revelation) the things contained in the law, thus showing the work o]
l'he lauw written in their hearts.  If, beciuse "1 natural religion is liable to be mistaken,
it is high tinme to have (lolne with it in the pulpit;" how comes it that the salne apostle
rt-tfrs the Philippians to the studcy of tiis religion,to whatsoever things are true, honest,
iust, lovely, and of good report? Anld yet, without such a study, our knowledge of
thle moral law must always rlinain imperfect; for a complete system of morality is
certainly no where to he found either in the Old or New Testanment.'t When a
Christian minister is enforcing the. duties or doctrines of revealed religion, he may
perhaps do well to "tell Ihis people ihe has no other proof of the original, truth, obli
gations, present benefits and future rewards of religion, to lay before them, than what
is contained in the Scriptures."  But what if his purpose be to inculcate some moral
virtue?  Will it not be useftil here, besides observing that the practice of that virtue
is enjoined by a diviner conimand, to recommend it still further to his hearers, by
showing that it approves itself to our inward sense and perception, and accords with
the native sentiments and suggtgstions of our minds?  Metaphysicians may say what
they will of our feelings of tins sort being all illusive, liable to be perverted by
education and habit, and judbged  r;,'  J,,Iy  own sense of things; they, whose
understandings are yet unspoiled by philosophy and vain deceit, will be little disposed to
listen to such assertions.  Nor are there wanting arguments which prove, and, as
should seem, to the satisfaction of every reasonable inquirer, that the great and leadino
principles of moral duties have in all ages been the same; that such virtues as believolence, justice, compassio:1, gratitude, accidental obstacles removed. and when the
precise meaning of the words has been once explained, are instinctively known andll
approved by all men; andl that our approbation of these is as much a part of our
nature implanted in us by God, and as little liable to caprice and fashion, as the sense
of seeing, given us also by him,by which all bodies appear to us in an erect, ald not
an inverted position.:  Mr Locke's authority has been generally looked up to as
decisive on such questions; anll his sentiments have been embraced implicitly, and
without examination. That great af:d good man, however, is not to be charged with
the pernicious consequences which others have drawn from his opinions: consequences
which have been carried to such a length, as to destroy all moral difference of human
actions; making virtue and vice altogether arbitrary; calling evil good, and good
tvil; putting darkness for light, and lightfor darkeness; putting bitterfor sweet, and
sweet for bitter.
* See the second of Dr Baigniy'* ('Carges.  * See the third of Bishop Hurd's Sermons, vol.'




272                        CHARGE TO THt.
particular  objections  may  be  obviated  without a formal
mention  of them.   Besides, as to  religion in general, it
is a practical thing, and no otherwise a matter of speculation, than common prudence in the management cl
our worldly affairs is so.  Anrd if one were endeavouring
to bring a plain man to bo-!more careful with regard to
this last, it would be thought a strange method  of doin(;'
it,  to  perplex  him   with   stating   formally  the  sever;Xl
objections which men of gaiety or speculation have
made  against prudence, and  the advantages which they
pleasantly  tell us  folly  has  over it-;  though  one  could
answer those objections ever so fully.
Nor does the want of religion in the generality of the
common  people  appear owing to a speculative disbelief
or denial of it, but chiefly  to  thoughtlessness  and  tlhe
common temptations of life. Your chief business the]refore is to endeavour to beget a practical sense of it upen
their hearts, as what they acknowledge their belief of;
and profess they ought to conform themselves to. And
this is to be done by keeping up, as we are able, thelform   and  face  of religion  with  decency and reverence,
and in such a degree as to bring the thoughts of reiigionl
often to their minds;* and then endeavouring to make
this form more and more subservient to promote the
reality and power of it. The form of religion may
indeed be where there is little of the thing. itself; but
the thing itself cannot be preserved amongst mankind
without the form.t   And this form  frequently  occurring
* To this it is said, by our inquirer, that "the clergy of the church of Enigila d
have no way of keeping up the form and face of religion, any oftener, or in any other
degree, than is directed by the prescribed order of the church."  As if the whole dutv
of a parish priest consisted in reading prayers and a sermon on Sundays, and perfbrinling
the occasional offices appointed in the liturgy! One would think the writer who made
this objection had never read more of the Charge than the four pages he has parLicularly selected for the subject of his animadversions.  Had he looked further,
he would have found other methods recommended to the clergy, of introducing a
sense of religion into the minds of their parishioners which occur much oftener than
the times allotted for the public services of the church: such as family prayers;
acknowledging the divine bounty at our meals; personal applications from ministers
of parishes to individuals under their care, on particular occasions and circumstances:
as at the time of confirmation, at first receiving the holy communion. on recovery
from sickness, and the like; none of which are prescribed in our established ritual,
any more than those others so ludicrously mentioned by this writer, "bowing to the
east, turning the face to that quarter in repeating the creeds, dipping the finger in
water. and therewith crossinfg the child's forehead in baptism."
t The quakers reject all forms, even the two of Christ's own institution: will It
be said, that "these men have no religion preserved among them?,  It will neither




CLERGY OF DURHAM.                                273
in  some instatice  or other of it will be a frequent admo-.
nition to bad men to repent, and to good men to grow
better; and also be the means of their doing so.*
That which men have accounted religion in the several
countries of the world, generally speaking, has had a
great and conspicuous part in all public appearances,
and the face of it been kept up with great reverence
throughout all ranks, from  the highest to the lowest;
not only upon occasional solemnities, but also in the daily
course  of behaviour.  In  the  heathen  world, their
superstition was the chief subject of statuary, sculpture,
painting, and poetry. It mixed itself with business, civil
forms, diversions, domestic entertainments, and every
part of common life. The Malhometans are obliged to
short devotions five times between morning and evening.
In Roman Catholic countries, people cannot pass a day
without having religion recalled to their thoughts, by
some or other memorial of it; by some ceremony or
public  religious  formn   occurring  in  their  way:'   besides
be said nor insinuated.  The quakers, though they have not the form, are careful te
keep up the face of religion; as appears not only from the custom of assembling
themselves for the purposes of public worship on the Lord's day, but from  their
silent meetings on other days of the week.  And that they are equally sensible of
the importance of maintaining the influence of religion on their minds, is manifiest
from the practice of wlat they call iniward prayer, in conformity to tile direct.ion of
Scriuture to pray continuall: " wlhich," saith Robert Barclay, "' cannot be un4iterstood of outward prayer, because it wtere impossible that men should be always np.);im
their knees, expressing tll words of prayer; which would hinder them  firom thlt
exercise of those duities no Ilss posiively colnmanded.""-Apology for the Quakers,
Prop. xi. Of Wlorship.
* tHere it has been objec':ed, that " the number, variety, andfrequent occurrence of
forms in religion, are too apt to )e. considelred by the generality as commutations for
their vices, as something substituted in lieu of repentance, as loads and encumbranllcs
upon true Christian edification."  This way of arguing against the use of a thingi
firom the abuse of it, instead of arguing fiom  the nature of the thling itself, is tl:e
master sophism that pervades the vwhole performance we are here examining. What
reasonable man ever denied, that the pomp of outward worship has been sometimes
mistaken for inward piety? that positive institutions, when rested in as ends, instead
of being applied as means, are hurtful to the interests of true religion?  Not Bishop
Butler certainly, who blames the observances of the papists on this account, some of
them  as being "'in themselves wrong and superstitious;" and others, as being
"made subservient to the purposes of superstition," and for this reason "'abolishell
by our reformers."  In the mean while, it will still be true, that bodily worship is
by no means to be discarded, as unuseful in exciting spiritual devotion; on the contrary, teat they mutually assist and strengthen each other; and that a mere mental
intercourse with God, and a religious service purely intellectual, is altogether
mnsuitahbe to such a creature as  lall, during his present state on earth,
t j' What ill the, former period" (vhen speaking of the heathen world) "was called
superstition, I)mconIms ill this" (whetm  speaking of Roman Catholics) "religion, and
religiousforms; wlricll the papists pretending to coirneet with Christianity, and the
Charge giving  on hint that this is no more dllall a plretence, a plain reader must needs
take ibis us spoken of the means and imemorials of true religion, and will accordingly
8




274                           CHARGE TO THE
their frequent holydays, the short prayers they are daily
called to, and the occasional devotion enjoined by confessors. By these means their superstition sinks deep
into the minds of the people, and their religion also into
the minds of such among them as are serious and welldisposed.  Our reformers, considering that some of
these observances were in themselves wrong and superstitious, and others of them made subservient to the
purposes of superstition, abolished them, reduced the
form of religion to great simplicity, and enjoined no more
particular rules, nor left any thing more of what was
external in religion, than was in a manner necessary to
preserve a sense of religion itself upon the minds of the
people. But a great part of this is neglected by the
generality amongst us; for instance, the service of the
church, not only upon common days, but also upon
saints' days; and several other things might be mentioned. Thus they have no customary admonition, no
public call to recollect the thoughts of God and religion
from one Sunday to another.
It was far otherwise under the law. These words,'
says Moses to the children of Israel, which I command,thee, shall be in thine heart: and thou slhalt teach them,consider these as recommended to his practice and imitation." If a plain reader, at
first view of the passage alluded to, should inadvertently fall into such a mistake, he
would find that mistake immeliately corrected by the very next sentence that follows,
where thle religion of the Roman Catholics, and their superstition, are distinguished
from eacal other in express words   But the terms in question are used with the
strictest proiriety.  Tile design of the bishop, in this part of his Clarge, is to consider
religion,  noL under the notion of its beiilg  true, but as it affects the senses and
imagiluii,nls of the multitude.  For so the paragraphl begins: "That wlhich mei
l&ave accounted rcliugion in tile several countries of tihe world" (whetlher the religion be
true or 1alse) is Ieside his present argument), " generally speaking, has had a great and
o11spicionls!,art in all public appearances."  Thiis position l he illustrates by three
iexanl s1* x. ilte {Ieatl henl, the Mahomintan, and the Romian Catholic religions.  The two
firstof Lth tse, having little or nothing of true religion belonging to them, may well enough
1he cuiiractrr:zzd tuim(lr the common niame of supers itioi: the last contains a mixture
of both; whici thterefore the bishop, like a good writer, as well as a just reasoner,
is careful to distinguish.  Int Roman Catholic countries, a man can hardly travel a
ml;ile without passing a crucifix erected on the road side: lie may either stop to.worship the inmage represented on the cross, or lie may simply be reminded  by it of
his own relation to Christ crucified; thus hy one and the same outward sign,
" religion may be recalled to his thoughts," or siuperstition may take possession of his'mind.  In the celebration of the eucharist, the elements of bread and wine are
regarded by a papist as the very body and blood of Christ; to a protestant, they
appearonly as symbols tand memorials of that body anid blood: what in one is an actod
rational devotion, bf comes in the other an instance of the grossest superstition, if mn
hdoatry.
* Deut. vi. 6, 7.




CLERG Y OF DURHAM.                              275
diligently  unto thy children, and  shalt talk  of them   when
thou sittest in thine house, and  when  thou  walkest by  the
way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up *
And as they were commanded this, so it is obvious how
much the constitution of that law was adapted to effect
it, and keep religion ever in view. And without somewhat of this nature, piety will grow languid even among
the better sort of men; and the worst will go on quietly
in an abandoned course, with fewer interruptions from
within than they would have, were religious reflections
forced oftener upon their minds,t and consequently with
* Allowing that " what Moses in this passage wanted to have effected was obedience to the moral law," nothing, sure, could be of greater use in securing that
obedience than the practice here enjoined. Olr inquirer, however, is of a different
opinion, and 1" very much questions whether his lordship could have fallen upon any
passage in the Old Testament, which relates at all to his subject, that would have
been less favourable to his argument."  Who shall decide, &c.?-The bishop goes
on, " As they (the Jews) were commanded this, so it is obvious how much the constitution of their law was adapted to effect it, and keep religion ever in view." Upon
which the inquirer remarks, " It was then very ill, or at least very unwisely done, to
abrogate that law, whose constitution was adapted to so excellent a purpose."  Let
us first see what may be offered in defence of the bishop, and then consider what is
to be said in answer to his opponent. The Purpose for which the Mosaic constitution
was established was this: to preserve, amidst a world universally addicted to polytheism and idolatry, the great doctrine of the Unity of the Divine Nature, till the
seed should come to whom the promise was made.  As a means to this end, the
Israelites were not only to be kept separate from every other nation; but, the better
to ensure such separation, they wevre to be constantly employed in a multifarious
ritual, which left them neither time nor opportunity for deviating into the superstitious observances of their pagan neighbours..And this, I suppose, may suffice for
vindicating the bishop's asserLion, that " tile constitution of the Jewish law was
adapted to keep religion ever in view."  But the Jewish law was not only adapted
to this end; we are next to observe, that the end itself was actually gained.  For
diough it be too notorious to be denied, that the Jews did not always comifine their
~eligious homage to the God of Israel, but polluted the service, due to him alone,
with foreign worship; yet, evein in their worst defection, it should be remembered,
they never totally rejected the true Jehovah; anld after their return from captivity,
they were so thoroughly cured of all remlnaining propensity to the idolatrous rites of
heathenism, as never again to violat- th eir allegiance to the God of their fathers.
It appears then, that, in conse qu.ence of the Jewish separation, the principle of the
Unity was in fact preserved invio!ate:.liong that people till the coming of Christ.
When the Mosaic constitution lad( thtls;ltiilned its.end, and mankind were now
prepared for the reception of a better covenant, 1lhe law expired of course; the parti
tion wall that had divided the Jew front tife Gentile was taken down, and all distinc
tion between them lost, under the common manie of Christians. And this may suffice
to silow, in opposition to our inquirer, that i.. was both very well and very wisely done
to abrogate a law, when the purpose fi)r wVich the law had been enacted was
acclomplished.
ti "According to the bishop's doctrine," then, says the inquirer, " it should be not
only good policy, but wholesome discipline, to force men in England to come to
church, and in France to go to mass."  And again, " If externals have this virtu,
to enforce religious refiections, it mulst be right to compel those who are indisposed t,
such reflections, to attend thiese mlemorials."  Yes; granting that the sense cf the
passage in the Cha],ge is not shamefiully perverted, and that we are to understand the
bishop here. to speak of external force and compulsion. Whereas, by " religious
retfectionsforced," is plainly meant no more than religious reflections oftener tkrouw




27C                          C   iA 1;  ro  1  o, 1
less probability of their amnendinent.  Indeed in most
ages of the church, the care of reasonable men has been,
as there has been for the most part occasion, to draw
the people off from laying too great weight upon external
things; upon  formal acts of piety.  But the state of
matters is quite changed now with us. These things are
neglected to a degree, which is, and cannot but be
attended with a decay of all that is good. It is highly
seasonable now to instruct the people in the importance
of external religion.*
And doubtless under this head must come into consideration a proper regard to the structures which are
consecrated to the service of God.  In the present turn
of the- age, one may observe a wonderful frugality in
every thing which has respect to religion, and extravagance in every thing else.  But amidst the appearances
of opulence and improvement in all common things,
which are now seen in most places, it would be hard te
find a reason why these monuments of ancient piety
should not be preserved in their orioinal beauty and
magnificence. But in the least opulent places they must
be preserved in becoming repair; and every thing
relating to the divine service be, however, decent and
clean;   otherwise  we  shall  vilify  the  face   of  religion
whilst we keep  it up.   All this is indeed  principally  the
duty of others.  Yours is to press strongly upon themn
what is their duty in this respect, and admonish them of
it often, if they are negligent.
in men s way, brought more frequently into their thotghts, so as to produce an habitual
recollection that they are always in the divil lpresenlce.
* " The importance of external relig ion," tile iquirer) rl marks, "is the grand engine
of;ile papists, which they play with the greatest effect upon oulr common people, wl:o
tare alwayv soonest taken and ensialred hyfolrm and show; a nd, so far as we conclur
with them  in the principle, we are doing their work; since, if externlals, as such, are
ilmportanlt, the plain natural collsequence is, the more of them the better.' He had the
same reflection once before:' If trite religico  cannot be preserved among men wtlhout forms, the consequence must h1, that the Romish religion, having - more
fiequent occurrences of forins, is better than other religions which lhave fewer of
these —occurrences."  To this argumlent I reply, Nego consefuentiam. There may
be too much of form in religion, as well as too little: the one leads to enthusiasnm,
the other degenerates into superstition; one is puritanism, the other popery; whereas
the rational worship of God is equally removed from either extreme. Did the ihquir,*r
never hear of the possibility of having too much of a good thing? Or does he suppose, with the late historian of Great Britain, that all religion is divided into two
species, the superstitious and the fanatical; and that whatever is not one of these,
a"u of necessity be the other?




CLERY OF DURHAM                277
But then you must be sure to take care and not neglect
that Dart of the sacred fabric which belongs to you to
maintain in repair and decency. Such neglect would be
great impiety in you, and of most pernicious example to
others.  Nor could you, with any success, or any
propriety, urge upon them their duty in a regard in
which you yourselves should be openly neglectful of
it.
Bishop Fleetwood has observed,' that unless the good
public spirit of building, repairing, and adorning churches
prevails a great deal more among us, and be more
encouraged, a hundred years will bring to the ground a
huge number of our churches.  This excellent prelate
made this observation forty years ago: and no one, I'believe, will imagine, that the good spirit he has recoinmended prevails more at present than it did then.
But if these appendages of the divine service are to be
regarded, doubtless the divine service itself is more to be
regarded; and the conscientious attendance upon it
ought often to be inculcated upon the people,. as a plain
precept of the gospel, as the means of grace, and what
has peculiar promises annexed to it. But external acts
of piety and devotion, and the frequent returns of them,
are, moreover, necessary to keep up a sense of religion,
which the affairs of the world will otherwise wear out of
mnen's hearts.  And the frequent returns, whether of
public devotions, or of any thing else, to introduce
religion into men's serious thoughts, will have an influence upon theln, ill proportion as they are susceptible of
religion, and not given over to a reprobate mind. For
this reason, besides others, the service of the church
ought to be celebrated as often as you can have a con-.
gregation to attend it.
But since the body of the people, especially in country
places, cannot be brought to attend it oftener than one day
in a week; and sinct this is in no sort enough to keep
up in them a due sense of religion; it were greatly to
be wished they could be persuaded to any thing which
might, in some measure, supply the want of more
frequent public devotions, or serve the like purposes.
* Charge to the Clergy of St Asaplh, 1710.




278                CH.IX3",GE TO THE
Fam;ly prayers, regularly kept up in every house, would
have a great and good effect.
Secret prayer, as expressly as it is commanded by our
Saviour, and as evidently as it is implied in the notion of
piety, will yet, I fear, be grievously forgotten by the
generality, till they can be brought to fix for themselves
certain times of the day for it; since this is not done to
their hands, as it was in the Jewish church by custom or
authority.  Indeed custom, as well as the manifest
propriety of the thing, and examples of good men in
Scripture, justify us in insisting, that none omit their
prayers morning or evening, who have not thrown off
all regards to piety.  But secret prayer comprehends not
only devotions before men begin and after they have
ended the business'of the day, but such also as may be
performed while they are employed in it, or even in
company. And truly, if, besides our more set devotions,
morning and evening, all of us would fix upon certain
times of the day, so that the return of the hour should
remind us, to say short prayers, or exercise our thoughts
in a wav equivalent to this; perhaps there are few persons
in so high and habitual a state of piety, as not to find the
blenefit of it. If it took up no more than a minute or two,
or even less time than that, it would serve the end I am
proposing; it would be a recollection, that we are in the
Divine presence, and contribute to our being in the fear
of the Lord all the day long.
A duty of the like kind, and serving to the same
purpose; is the particular acknowledgment of God when
we are partaking of his bounty at our meals. The
neglect of this is said to have been scandalous to a
proverb in the heathen world;* but it is without shame
laid aside at the tables of the highest and the lowest rank
among us.
And as parents should be admonished, and it should
be pressed upon their consciences, to teach their children
their prayers and catechism, it being what they are
oblirged to upon all accounts; so it is proper to be
mentioned here, as a means by which they will bring the
* Cudworth on the Lord's Supper, p. 8. Casaub. in Athenaeum, i. i. c. xi. p. 22.
Dupert. Pral. in Theophrastumn, ed. Needhan, c. ix. p. 335, &c.




CLERGY OF DUR.HiAM.            279
principles of Christianity often to their own mninds,
instead of laying aside ali thoughts of it from week's-end
to week's-end.
General exhortations to piety, abstracted from the
particular circumstances of it, are of great use to such
as are already got into a religibus course of life; but,
such as are not, though they be touched wi;th them, vet
when they go away from church, they scarce know where
to begin, or how to set about what they are exhorted to.
And it is with respect to religion, as in the common
affairs of life, in which many things of great consequence
intended, are yet never done at all, because they may be
done at any time, and in any manner; which would not
be, were some determinate time and manner voluntarily
fixed upon for the doing of them. Particular rules and
directions then concerning the times and circum,,stances
of perforning acknowledged duties, bring religion nearer
to practice; and such as are really proper, and cannot
well be mistaken, and are easily observed.-Such particula-r rules in religion, prudently recommended, would
have an influence upon the people.
All this indeed may be called form: as every thing
external in religion may be merely so. And therefore
whilst we endeavour, in these and other like instances,
to keep up the form of godliness# amongst those who are
our care, and over whom we have any influence, we must
endeavour also that this form be made more and more
subservient to promote the power of it.* Admonish them
to take heed that they mean what they say in their
prayers, that their thoughts and intentions go along with
their words, that they really in their hearts exert and
exercise before God the affections they express with their
mouth. Teach them, not that external religion is nothing,
for this is not true in any sense; it being scarce possible,
butthat it will lay some sort of restraint upon a man's
morals; and it is moreover of good effect with respect to
the world about him. But teach them that regard to one
duty will in no sort atone for the neglect of any other.
Endeavour to raise in their hearts such a sense of God
as shall be an habitual, ready principle of reverence
* 2 TIm_ l_ k




280                CHARGE TO THE
love, gratitude, hope, trust, resignation, and obedience.
Exhort them to make use of every circumstance, which
brings the subject of religion at all before them; to turn
their hearts habitually to him; to recollect seriously the
thoughts of his presence in whom they live and move and
have their being, and by a short act of their mind devote
themselves to his service. - If, for instance, persons
would accustom themselves to be thus admonished by
the very sight of a church, could it be called superstition?
Enforce upon them the necessity of making religion their
principal concern, as what is the express condition of the
gospel covenant, and what the very nature of the thing
requires.  Explain to them the terms of that covenant
of mercy, founded in the incarnation, sacrifice, and
intercession of Christ, together with the promised
assistance of the Holy Ghost, not to supersede our own
endeavours, but to render them effectual.  The greater
festivals of the church, being instituted for commemorating the several parts of the gospel history, of course lead
you to explain these its several doctrines, and show the
Christian practice which arises out of them.  And the
more occasional solemnities of religion, as well as these
festivals, will often afford you the fairest opportunities
of enforcing all these things in familiar conversation.
Indeed all affectation of talking piously is quite nauseous:
and though there be nothing of this, yet men will easily
be disgusted at the too great frequency or length of these
occasional admonitions. But a word of God and religion
dropped sometimes in conversation, gently, and without
any thing severe or forbidding in the manner of it, this is
not unacceptable.  It leaves an impression, is repeated
again by the hearers, and often remembered by plain
well-disposed persons longer than one would think.
Particular circumstances too, which render men more
apt to receive instruction, should be laid hold of to talk
seriously to their consciences.  For instance, after a
man's recovery from a dangerous sickness, how proper
is it to advise hini to recollect and ever bear in mind,
what were his hopes or fears, his wishes and resolutions,
when under the apprehension of death; in order to bring
him to repentance, or confirm him in a course of piety,




CLERGY OF DURHAM.              281
according as his life and character has been. So likewise
the terrible accidents which often happen from riot and
debauchery, and indeed almost every vice, are occasions
providentially thrown in your way, to discourse agai st
these vices in common conversation, as well as from the
pulpit, upon any such accidents happening in your parish,
or in a neighbouring one.  Occasions and circumstances
of a like kind to some or other of these occur often, and
ought, if I may so speak, to be catched at, as opportunities
of conveying instruction, both public and private, with
great force and advantage.
Public instruction is absolutely necessary, and can in
no sort be dispensed with.  But as it is common to all
who are present, many persons strangely neglect to
appropriate what they hear to themselves, to their own
heart and life. Now the only remedy for this in our
power is a particular personal application. And a personal application makes a very different impression from
a common, general one.  It were therefore greatly to be'wished, that every man should have the principles of
Christianity, and his own particular duty enforced upon
his conscience, in a manner suited to his capacity, in
private.  And besides the occasional opportunities of
doing this, some of whllich have been intimated, there are
stated opportunities of' doing it.  Such, for instance, is
confirmation: and the usual age for confirmation is that
time of life, from which youth must become more and
more their own masters,' when they are often leaving
their father's house, going out into the wide world and
all its numerous temptations; against which they particularly want to be fortified, by having strong and lively
ilnlressions of religion made upon their minds. Now
the 61st canon expressly requires, that every minister
that hath care of souls shall use his best endeavour to
prepare and make able as many as he can to be confirmed;
which cannot be done as it ought without such personal
application to each candidate in particular as I am recommending.  Another opportunity for doing this is, when
any one of your parishioners signifies his name as intending for the first time to he partaker of the communion,
The rubric requiries, tllat a1! l els, rs, whenever they intend




282                CHARGE TO THE
to receive, shall signify their names beforel-iand to thl:
minister; which, if it be not insisted upon in all cases,
ought absolutely to be insisted upon for the first time.
Now this even lays it in your way to discourse with
them in private upon the nature and benefits ot this
sacrament, and enforce upon them the importance and
necessity of religion.  However I do not mean to put
this upon the same foot with catechising youth, and
preparing them for confirmation; these being indispen —
sable obligations, and expressly commanded by oiur
canons. This private intercourse with vour parishionrer's
preparatory to their first communion, let it, if you please,
be considered as a voluntary service to religion on your
part, and a voluntary instance of docility on theirs.  I
will only add as to this practice, that it is regularly kept
up by some persons, and particularly by one, whose
exemplary behaviour in every part of the pastoral office
is enforced upon you by his station of authority and
influence in (this part' especially of) the diocess.
I ani very sensible, mny brethren, that some of these
things in places where they are greatly wanted are
imnpracticable, from the largeness of parishes, suppose.
And where there is no impediment of this sort, yet the
performance of them will depend upon others, as well as
upon you.  People cannot be admonished or instructed
ill private, unless they will permit it.  And little will
vou be able to do in forming the minds of children to a
sense of religion, if their parents will not assist you in
it; and yet much less, if they will frustrate your endeavours, by their bad example, and giving encouragement
to their children to be dissolute.  The like is to be said
also of your influence in reforming the common people
in general, in proportion as their superiors act in like
manner to such parents; and whilst they, the lower
people I mean, must have such numerous temptations
to drunkenness and riot every where placed in their
way. And it is cruel usage we often meet with, in beingu
censured for not doing what we cannot do, withot c
what ie cannot have, tile concurrence of our censurers.
Doubtless very mrn:lcI reproach which now lights upoil
Tlit-  i:-itI  ( atory  of Nortluinierlal nd.




CLERGY OF DURHAM.                283
tlhe clergy would be found to fall elsewhere, if due
allowances were made for things of this kind. But then
we, my brethren, must take care and not make more
than due allowances for them.  If others deal uncharitably with us, we must deal impartially with ourselves,
as in a matter of conscience, in determining what good
is in our power to do: and not let indolence keep us
from setting about what really is in our power; nor any
heat of temper create obstacles in the prosecution of it,
or render insuperable such as we find, when perhaps
gentleness and patience would prevent or overcome them.
Indeed all this diligence to which I have been exhorting you and myself, for God forbid I should not consider
mnyself as included in all the general admonitions you
r'eceive from me; all this diligence in these things does
indeed suppose, that we give ourselves wholly to them.
It supposes, not only that we have a real sense of religion
upon our own minds, but also, that to promote the
practice of it in others is habitually uppermost in our
thought and intention, as the business of our lives. And
this, my brethren, is the business of our lives, in every
sense, and upon  every account.  It is the general
business of all Christians as they have opportunity: it is
our particular business.  It is so, as we have devoted
ourselves to it by the most solemn engagements; as,
according to oll' Lord's appointment, we live of the
0ospel;*  and as the preservation and advancement of
religion, in such and such districts, are, in some respects,
our appropriated trust.
By being faithful in the-discharge of this our trust, by
thus taking heed to the ministry'we have received in the
Lord that we fulfil it,i we shall do our part towards
revivinlg a practical sense of religion amongst the people
committed to our care. And this will be the securest
barrier against the efforts of infidelity; a great source of
which plainly is, the endeavour to get rid of religious
restraints.  But whatever be our success with regard to
others, we shall have the approbation of our consciences,
and may rest assured, that, as to murselves at least, ouv
labour is not in vain in the Lord.1
I Cor. ix. 14.'j Col. iv. 17.. 1 Cor. xv. 58.




CORRESPONDENCE
BETWEEt'
DR BUTLER AND DR CLARKE.
THE FIRST LETTER.
REVEREND SIR,
I SUPPOSE YOU will wonder at the present trouble from
one who is a perfect stranger to you, though you are not
so to him; but I hope the occasion will excuse my
boldness. I have made it, sir, my business, ever since
I thought myself capable of such sort of reasoning, to
prove to myself the being and attributes of God. And
being sensible that it is a matter of the last consequence,
I endeavoured after a demonstrative proof; not only
more fully to satisfy my own mind, but also in order to
(lefend the great truths of natural religion, and those of
the Christian revelation which follow from them, against
all opposers: but must own with concern, that hitherto
I have been unsuccessful; and though I have got very
probable arguments, yet I can go but a very little way
with demonstration in the proof of those things. When
first your book on those subjects (which by all, whom I
have discoursed with, is so justly esteemed) was recommended to me, I was in great hopes of having all my
inquiries answered. But since in some places, either
through my not understandirg your meaning, or what
else I know not, even that has failed me, I almost
despair of ever arriving to such a satisfaction as I aim at,
unless by the method I now use. You cannot but know,
sir, that of two different expressions of the same thing,
though equally clear to some persons, yet to others one
of them is sometimes very obscure, though the other be
perfectly intelligible.  Perhaps this may be my case
here; and could I see those of your argumrnents, of which
I doubt, differently proposed, possibly I imight yield a
rmxadv assent to them. This, si', i -an not bht think a




COTIRESPONDENCE, ETC.             285
sufficient excuse for the present trouble; it being such a
one as I hope may prevail for an answer, with one who
seems to aim at nothing more than that good work of
instructing others.
In your Demonstration of the Being and Attributes of
God, Prop. VI.* [edit. 2d. pp. 69, 70,] you propose to
prove the infinity or omnipresence of the self-existent
Being. The former part of the proof seems highlyl
probable; but the latter part, which seems to aim:.t
demonstration, is not to me convincing.  The latter
part of the paragraph is, if I mistake not, an entire
argument of itself, which runs thus: "To suppose a
finite being to be self-existent, is to say that it is a
contradiction for that being not to exist, the absence of
which may yet be conceived without a contradiction;
which is the greatest absurdity in the world." The sense
of these words'" the absence of which"] seems plainly
to be determined by the following sentence, to mean its
absence from any particular place. Which sentence is
to prove it to be an absurdity; and is this: " For if a
being can, without a contradiction, be absent from one
place, it ma-, without a contradiction, be absent fronm
another place, and from all places." Now supposing
this to be a consequence, all that it proves is, that if a
being can, without a contradiction, be absent from  one
place at one time, it may, without a contradiction, be
absent from another place, and so from all places, at
different times; (for I cannot see, that if a being can be
absent from one place at one time, therefore it mnay,
without a contradiction, be absent from.all places at the
same time, i. e. may cease to exist.)  Now, if it provCe
no more than this, I cannot see that it reduces tIho
supposition to any absurdity. Suppose I could demon -
strate, that any particular man should live a thousand
years; this man might, without a contradiction, be abseil
from one and from all places at different times; but it
would not from thence follow, that he might be absent
from all places at the same time, i. e. that he might cease
to exist.  No; this would be a contradiction, because I
am supposed to have demonstrated that he should live u
* P. 45, edit. 4; p. 41, edit. 6; p. 43, edit. 7; p. 44, edit. 8.




286           CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN
thousand years. It would be exactly the same, if,
instead of a thousand years, I should say, for ever; and
the proof seems the same, whether it be applied to a
self-existent or a dependent being.
What else I have to offer is in relation to your proof,
that the self-existent being must of necessity be but one.
Which proof is as follows, in Prop. VII.* [edit. 2d. p. 74.]
"To suppose two or more different natures existing of
themselves, necessarily, and independent from each other,
implies this plain contradiction; that, each of them being
independent from the other, they may either of them be
supposed to exist alone; so that it will be no contradiction to imagine the other not to exist, and consequently
neither of them will be necessarily existing." The supposition indeed implies, that since each of these beings is
independent from  the other, they may either of them
exist alone, i. e. without any relation to, or dependence
on, the other: but where is the third idea, to connect this
proposition and the following one, viz., " so that it will
be no contradiction to imagine the other not to exist?"
Were this a consequence of the former proposition, I
allow it would be demonstration, by the first corollary of
Prop. I II. [2d edit. p. 26.] but since these two propositions, [" they mav either of them be supposed to exist
alone,"] and, [" so that it will be no contradiction to
imagine the other not to exist,"] are very widely different;
since likewise it is no immediate consequence, that
because either may be supposed to exist independent
from the other, therefore the other may be supposed not
to exist at all; how is what was proposed, proved? That
the propositions are different, I think is plain; and
whether there be an immediate connexion, every body
that reads your book must judge for themselves. I must
say, for my own part, the absurdity does not appear at
first sight, any more than the absurdity of saying that
the angles below the base in an isosceles triangle are
unequal; which thouglh it is absolutely false, yet I suppose
no one will lay down the contrary for an axiom; because,
though it is true, yet there is need of a proof to make it
appear so.
* P. 48. edit. 4; p. 44. edit. 6; p. 46. edit. 7; p. 47 editL
t  P. 16, 17. Tdlit. 4. 6, 7. and 8.




DR BUTLER AND DR CLARKE.            287
Perhaps it may be answered, that I have not rightly
explained the words, " to exist alone;" and that thev do
not n.ean only, to exist independent from the other; but
that "existing alone" means that nothincg exists with it.
Whether this or the other was meant, I cannot determine:
but, which ever it was, what I have said will hold.  For
if this last be the sense of those words, r" they either of
thein may be supposed to exist alone;"] it indeed implies
that it will be no contradiction to suppose the other not
to exist: but then I ask, how come these two propositions to be connected; that, to suppose two different
natures existing of themselves necessarily and independent
from  each other, implies that each of them  may be
supposed to exist alone in this sense?  Which is exactly
the same as I said before, only applied to different
sentences.  So that if " existing alone" be understood as
I first took it, I allow it is implied in the supposition;
hut cannot see that the consequence is, tlhat it will be no
contradiction to suppose the other not to exist.  But if
tile words, " existing alone," are meant in the latter sense,
I grant, that if either of them be supposed thus to exist
alone, it will be no contradiction to suppose the other not
to exist: but then I cannot see, that to supposc two
different natures existing, of themselves, necessarily and
independent from each other, imnplles that either of them
may be supposed to exist alone in this sense of the words;
but, only, that either of them may be supposed to exist
without having any relation to the other, and that there
will be no need of the existence of the one in order to
the existence of the other. But though upon this account,
were there no other principle of its existence, it might
cease to exist; yet on the account of the necessity of its
own nature, which is quite distinct from the other, it is an
absolute absurdity to suppose it not to exist.
Thus, sir, I have proposed my doubts, with the reasons
of them. In which if I have wrested your words to
another sense than you designed them, or in any respect
argued unfairly, I assure you it was without design. So
I hope you will impute it to mistake. And, if it will not
be too great a trouble, let me once more beg the favour
of a line from you, by which you will lay me under a




'.2)2        CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN
particular obligation to be, what, with the rest of tlI
world, I now am,
Reverend Sir, your most obliged servant, &c.
Nov. 4, 1713.
THE ANSWER TO THE FIRST LETTER.
DID nlen who publish controversial papers accustom
themselves to write with that candour and ingenuity,
with which you propose your difficulties, I am persuaded
almost all disputes might be very amicably terminated,
either by men's coming at last to agree in opinion, or at
least finding reason to suffer each other friendly to differ.
Your two objections are very ingenious, and urged
with great strength and acuteness   Yet I am  not
without hopes of being able to give you satisfaction in
both of them.  To your first, therefore, I answer:
Whatever may, without a contradiction, be absent from
any one place, at any one time, may also, without a
contradiction, be absent from all places at all times.
For, whatever is absolutely necessary at all, is absolutely
necessary in every part of space, and in every point of
duration.  Whatever can at anv time be conceived
possible to be absent from any one part of space, may
for the same reason [viz. the implying no contradiction
in the nature of things] be conceived possible to be
absent from every other part of space at the same time;
either by ceasing to be, or by supposing it never to have
begun to be. Your instance about demonstrating a man
to live a thousand years, is what, I think, led, you into
the mistake; and is a good instance to lead you out of
it again. You may suppose a man shall live a thousand
years, or God may reveal and promise he shall live a
thousand years; and upon that supposition, it shall not
be possible for the man to be absent from all places in
any part of that time. Very true: but why shall it not
be possible? only because it is contrary to the supposition, or to the promise of God; but not contrary to the
absolute nature of things; which would be the case, if
the man existed necessarily, as every part of space does.




DR BUTLER AND DR CLARKE.            289
In supposing you could demonstrate, a man should live
a thousand years, or one year; you make an impossible
and contradictory supposition.  For though you may
know certainly (by revelation suppose) that he will live
so long; yet this is only the certainty of a thing true in
fact, not in itself necessary: and demonstration is appli-,
cable to nothing but what is necessary in itself,' necessary
in all places and at all times equally.
To your second difficulty, I answer: What exists
necessarily, not only must so exist alone, as to be
independent of any thing else; but, (being self-sufficient)
may also so exist alone, as that every thing else may
possibly (or without any contradiction in the nature of
things) be supposed not to exist at all: and consequently
(since that which may possibly be supposed not to exist
at all, is not necessarily existent), no other thing can be
necessarily existent. Whatever is necessarily existing,
there is need of its existence in order to the supposal of
the existence of any other thing; so that nothing can
possibly be supposed to exist, without presupposing and
including antecedently the existence of that which is
necessary. For instance; the supposal of the existence.,f any thing whatever includes necessarily a presupposition of the existence of space and time; and if any thing
could exist without space or time, it would follow that
space and time were not necessarily existing. Therefore,
the supposing any thing possibly to exist alone, so as
not necessarily to include the presupposal of some other
thing, proves demonstrably that that other thing is not
necessarily existing; because, whatever has necessity of?xistence cannot possibly, in any conception whatsoever,
oe supposed away.  There cannot possibly be any
notion of the existence of any thing, there cannot
possibly be any notion of existence at all, but what shall
necessarily preinclude the notion of that which has
necessary existence. And consequently the two propositions, which you judged independent, are really
necessarily connected. These sorts of things are indeed
very difficult to express, and not easy to be conceived
but by very attentive minds: but to such as can and will
attend, nothing, I think, is more demonstrably convictive.
T




290          CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN
If any thing still sticks with you in this or any other
part of my books, I shall be very willing to be informed
of it; who am, Sir, Your assured friend and servant,
S.C.
Noe, o, 11713.
P. S. Many readers, I observe, have misunderstood
my second general proposition; as if the words [" some
one unchangeable and independent being,"] meant [one
only-being;] whereas the true meaning, and all that
the argument there requires, is, [some one at least.]
That there can be but one, is the thing proved afterwards
in the seventh proposition.
THE SECOND LETTER.
REVEREND SIR,
I HAVE often thought that the chief occasions of men s
differing so much in their opinions, were, either their
not understanding each other; or else, that, instead of
ingenuously searching after truth, they have made it
their business to find out arguments for the proof of
what they have once asserted. However, it is certain'there may be other reasons for persons not agreeing in,their opinions: and where it is so, I cannot but think'with you, that they will find reason to suffer each other'to differ friendly; every man having a way of thinking,
in some respects, peculiarly his own.
I am sorry I must tell you, your answers to my objec-,tions are not satisfactory.  The reasons why I think
them not so are as follow.
You say, "Whatever is absolutely necessary at all is
absolutely necessary in every part of space, and in every
point of duration."  Were this evident, it would certainly prove what you bring it for; viz. that "whatever
may, without a contradiction, be absent from one place
at one time, may also be absent from all places at all'times." But I do not conceive, that the idea of ubiquity
is contained in the idea of self-existence, or directly'follows from it; anv othllerwise than as, whatever exists




DR BUTLER AND DR CLARKE.           291
must exist somewhere.  You add, "Whatever can at
any time be conceived possible to be absent from any
one part of space, may for the same reason [viz. the
implying no contradiction in the nature of things] be
conceived possible to be absent from every other part of
space, at the same time." Now I cannot see, that I
can make these two suppositions for the same reason, or
upon the same account. The reason why I conceive
this being may be absent from one place, is because it
doth not contradict the former proof [drawn from the
nature of things], in which I proved only that it must
necessarily exist. But the other supposition, viz. that I
can conceive it possible to be absent from every part of
space' at one and the same time, directly contradicts the
proof that it must exist somewhere; and so is an express
contradiction. Unless it be said, that as, when we have
proved the three angles of a triangle equal to two right
ones, that relation of the equality of its angles to two
right ones will be wherever a triangle exists; so, when
we have proved the necessary existence of a being, this
being must exist every where. But there is a great
difference between these two things: the one being the
proof of a certain relation, upon supposition of such a
being's existence with such particular properties; and
consequently, wherever this being and these properties
exist, this relation must exist too: but from the proof of
the necessary existence of a being, it is no evident consequence that it exists every where. My using the word
demonstration, instead of proof'which leaves no room Jbfor
doubt, was through negligence, for I never heard of strict
demonstration of matter of fact.
In your answer to my second difficulty, you say,
"Whatsoever is necessarily existing, there is need of its
existence, in order to the supposal of the existence of
any other thing." All the consequences you draw from
this proposition, I see proved demonstrably; and consequently, that the two propositions I thought independent are closely connected. But how, or upon what
account, is there need of the existence of whatever is
necessarily existing, in ordr.r to the existence of any
other thing.  Is it as there is need of space and durations
T2




292          CORRF#PtOND< ENCT, BE13TWEEN
in order to the existence of any thing; or is it needful
only as the cause of.the existence of all other things P If
the former be said, as youi instance seems to intimate:
I answer; space and duration are very abstruse in their
natures, and, I think, cannot.properly be called things,
but are considered rather as affections which belong, and
in the order of our thoughts are antecedently necessary,
to the existence of all things. And I can no more
conceive how a necessarily existent being can, on the
same account, or in the same manner as space and
duration are, be needful in order to the existence of any
other being, than I can conceive extension attributed to
a thought; that idea no more belonging to a thing existing,
than extension belongs to thought.  But if the latter be
said, that there is need of the existence of whatever is a
necessary being, in order to the existence of any other
thing; only as this necessary being must be the cause of
the existence of all other things: I think this is plainlY
begging the question; for it supposes that there is no
other being exists, but what is casual, and so not necessary.
And on what other account, or in what other manner
than' one of these two, there can be need of the existence
of a necessary being in order to the existence of any
thing else, I cannot conceive.
Thus, sir, you see I entirely agree with you in all the
consequences you have drawn from  your suppositions,
but cannot see the truth of the suppositions themselves.
I have aimed at nothing in my style, but only to be
intelligible; being sensible that it is very'difficult (as you
observe) to express one's self on these sorts of subjects,
especially for one who is altogether unaccustomed to write
upon them.
I have nothing at present more to add, but my sincerest
thanks for your trouble in answering my letter, and for
your professed readiness to be acquainted with any'other
difficulty that I may meet with in any of your writings.i am willing to interpret this, as somewhat like a promise
of an answer to what I have now written, if there be anay
thing in it which deserves one. I am, Reverend Sir,
Your01 mnost obliged humble servant.
Nor. 23, 1713.




DR BUTLER AND DR CLARKE.            293,
THE ANSWER TO THE SECOND LETTER
SIR,
IT seems to me, that the reason why you do not apprehend ubiquity *to be necessarily connected with selfexistence, is because, in the order of your ideas, you first
conceive a being (a finite being, suppose), and then
conceive self-existence to be a property of that being; as
thLe angles are properties of a triangle, when a triangle
exists: whereas, on the contrary, necessity of existence,
not being a property consequent upon the supposition of
the things existing, but antecedently the cause or ground
of that existence; it is evident this necessity, being not
limited to ahy antecedent subject, as angles are to a
triangle; but being itself original, absolute, and (in order
of nature) antecedent to all existence; cannot but be
every where, for the same reason that it is any where.
By applying this reasoning to the instance of space, you
will find, that by consequence it belongs truly to that
substance, whereof space is a propertv,* as duration also
is.  What you say about a necessary being existing
somewhere, supposes it to be finite; and being finite,
supposes some cause which determined that such a certain
quantity of that being should exist, neither more nor less:
and that cause nmust either be a voluntary cause; or else
such a necessary cause, the quantity of whose power.
must be determined and limited by some other cause..
But in original absolute necessity, antecedent (in order
of nature) to the existence of any thing, nothing of all
this can have place; but the necessity is necessarily every
where alike.
Concerning the second difficulty, I answer: That
which exists necessarily, is needful to the existence of
any other thing; not considered now as a cause (for that
indeed is begging the question), but as a sine quo non;
In the sense as space is necessary to every thing, and
nothing san possibly be conceived to exist, without
thereby presupposing space: which there fore I apprehend
to be a propertv or mode of the self-existent st,stance;
* nr. mode of ex l.nce.




294          CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN
and that, by being evidently necessary itself, it proves
that the substance, of which it is a property, must also
be necessary; necessary both in itself, and needful to
the existence of any thing else whatsoever. Extension
indeed does not belong to thought, because thought is not
a being; but there is need of extension to the existence
of every being, to a being which has or has not thought,
or any other quality whatsoever.    I am, Sir,
Your real friend and servant.
London, Nov. 28, 1713.
THE THIRD LETTER.
REVEREND SiRl,
I DO not very well understand your meaning, when you
say that you think, "in the order of my ideas I first
conceive a being (finite suppose) to exist, and then
conceive self-existence to be a property of that being."
If you mean that I first suppose a finite being to exist I
know not why; affirming necessity of existence to be
only a consequent of its existerce; and that, when I have
supposed it finite, I very safely conclude it is not infinite;
I am utterly at a loss, upon what expressions in my letter
this conjecture can be founded.  But if you mean, that
I first of all prove a being to exist from eternity, and
then, from the reasons of things, prove that such a being
must be eternally necessary; I freely own it. Neither
do I conceive it to be irregular or absurd; for there is a
great difference between the prder in which things exist,
and the order in which I prove to myself that they exist.
Neither do I think my saying a necessary being exists
somewhere, suppose it to be finite; it only supposes that
this being exists in space, without determining whether
here, or there, or every where.
To my second objection, you say, "That which existq
necessarily, is needful to the existence of any other thing,
as a sine qua non; in the sense space is.necessary to
every thing: which is proved (you say) by this consideration, that space is a property of the self-existent
substance; and being both necessary in itself, and needfill




1;It BU'rLER AND DR CLARKE.        295
to the existence of every thing else; consequently the
substance, of which it is a property, must be so too."
Space, I own, is in one sense a property of the selfexistent substance; but, in the same sense, it is also a
property of all other substances. The only difference is
in respect to the quantity. And since every part of
space, as well as the whole, is necessary; every substance
consequently must be self-existent, because it hath this
self-existent property.  Which since you will not admit
for true; if it directly follows from your arguments, they
cannot be conclusive.
What you say under the first head proves, I think, to
a very great probability, though not to me with the
evidence of demonstration: but vour arguments under
the second I am not able to see the force of.
I am  so far from being pleased that I can form
objections to your arguments, that, besides the satisfaction it would have given me in my own mind, I should
have thought it an honour to have entered into your
reasonings, and seen the force of them.  I cannot desire
to trespass any more upon your better employed time;
so shall only add my hearty thanks for your trouble on
my account, and that I am with the greatest respect,
Reverend Sir,
Your most obliged humble servant.
Dec. 5, 1713.
THE ANSWER TO THE THIRD LETTER.
SIR,
THOUGH-I, when I turn my thoughts every way, I fully
persuade myself there is no defect in the argument itself;
yet in my manner of expression I am satisfied there must
be some want of clearness, when there remains any
difficulty to a person of your abilities and sagacity.  I
did not mean that your saying a necessary being exists
somewhere, does necessarily suppose it to be finite; but
that the manner of expression is apt to excite in the
mind an idea of a finite being, at the same time that you
are thinking of a necessary being, without accurately




296          CORTRESPONDi-NE BETWTEEN
attending to the nature of that necessity by which it
exists. Necessity absolute, and antecedent (in. order of
nature) to the existence of any subject, has nothing to
limit it; but, if it operates at all (as it must needs do),
it must operate (if I may so speak) every where and at
all times alike. Determination of a particular quantity,
or particular time or place of existence of any thing,
cannot arise but from somewhat external to the thing
itself. For example: why there should exist just such
a small determinate quantity of matter, neither more nor
less, interspersed in the immense vacuities of space, no
reason can be given. Nor can there be any thing in
nature, which could have determined a thing so indifferent in itself, as is the measure of that quantity; but only
the will of an intelligent and free agent. To suppose
matter, or any other substance, necessarily existing in a
finite determinate quantity; in an inch-cube, for instance;
or in any certain number of cube-inches, and no more;
is exactly the same absurdity, as supposing it to exist
necessarily, and yet for a finite duration only: which
every one sees to be a plain contradiction.  The argument is likewise the same, in the question about the
original of motion.   Motion cannot be necessarily
existing; because, it being evident that all determinations
of motion are equally possible in themselves, the original
determination of the motion of any particular body this
way rather than the contrary way, could not be necessarily
in itself, but was either caused by the will of an intelligent and free agent, or else was an effect produced and
determined without any cause at all; which is an express
contradiction: as I have shown in my Demonstration of
the Being and Attributes of' God.  [Page 14, edit. 4th
and 5th; page 12, edit. 6th and 7th.]
To the second head of argument, I answer: Space is
a properfvy [or mode] of the self-existent substance; but
not of any other substances.  All other substances aix'r
in space, and are penetrated by it; but the self-existe-nt
substance is not in space, nor penetrated by it, but is
itself (if I may so speak) the substratum  of space, the
ground of the existence of space and duration itself.
Which [space and duration] being evilsxtly necessary,




DR BUTLER AND DR CLARKE.           297
and yet themselves not substances, but properties or
modes, show evidently that the substance, without which
these properties could not subsist, is itself much more
(if that were possible) necessary. And as space and
duration are needful (i. e. sine qua non) to the existence
of every thing else; so consequently is the substance, to
which these properties belong in that peculiar manner
which I before mentioned.        I am, Sir,
Your affectionate friend and servant.
Dec. 10, 1713.
THE FOURTH LETTER.
REVEREND SIR,
WHATEVER is the occasion of my not seeing the force of
your reasonings, I cannot impute it to [what you do]
the want of clearness in your expression. I am too well
acquainted with myself, to think my not understanding
an argument, a sufficient reason to conclude that it is
either improperly expressed, or not conclusive; unless I
can clearly show the defect of it. It is with the greatest
satisfaction I must tell you, that the more I reflect on
your first argument, the more I am convinced of the
truth of it; and it now seems to me altogether unreasonable to suppose absolute necessity can have any
relation to one part of space more than to another; and
if so, an absolutely necessary being must exist every
where.
I wish I was as shell satisfied in respect to the other.
You say, "A11 substances, except the self-existent one,
are in space, and are penetrated by it."  All substances
doubtless, whether body or spirit, exist in space: but
wihen I say that a spirit exists in space, were I put
ipon telling my meaning, I know not how I could do it
an1y other way than by saying, such a particular quantity
(if space terminates the capacity of acting in finite spirits.
at one and the same time; so that thev cannot act
beyond that determined quantity.  Not but that I think
there is somewhat in the manner of existence of spirits
in respect of space, that more directly answers to the
manner of the existence of > dv;  but what that is, or of




j98          CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN
the manner of their existence, I cannot possibly form an
idea.  And it seems (if possible) much more difficult to
determine what relation the self-existent Being hath to
space.  To say he exists in space, after the same
mamnner that other substances do (somewhat like which
I too rashly asserted in my last), perhaps would be
placing the Creator too much on a level with the
creature; or however, it is not plainly and evidently
true: and to say the self-existent substance is the substratum of space, in the common sense of the word, is
scarce intelligible, or at least is not evident.  Now
though there may be a hundred relations distinct from
either of these; yet how we should come by ideas of
them, I cannot conceive. We may indeed have ideas
to the words, and not altogether depart from the common
sense of them, when we say the self-existent substance
is the substratum of space, or the ground of its existence:
but I see no reason to think it true, because space seems
to me to be as absolutely self-existent, as it is possible
any thing can be: so that, make what other supposition
you please, yet we cannot help supposing immense
space; because there must be either an infinity of being,
or (if you will allow the expression) an infinite vacuity
of being.  Perhaps it may be objected to this, that.
though space is really necessary, yet the reason of its
being necessary is its being a property of the self-existent
substance; and that it being so evidently necessary, and
its dependence on the self-existent substance not so
evident, we are ready to conclude it absolutely selfexistent, as well as necessary; and that this is the reason
why the idea of space forces itself on our minds, antecedent to, and exclusive of (as to the ground of its
existence) all other things. Now this, though it is really
an objection, yet is no direct answer to what I have
said: because it supposes the only thing to be proved,
viz. that the reason why space is necessary is its being
a.property of a self-existent substance.  And supposing
it not to be evident, that space is absolutely self-existent;
yet, while it is doubtful, we cannot argue as though the
contrary were certain, and we were sure that space was
only a property of the se'f-existent substance.  But




DR BUTLER AND DR CLARKE.             299
now, if space be not absolutely independent, I do not
see what we can conclude is so: for it is manifestly
necessary itself, as well as antecedently needful to the
existence of all other things, not excepting (as I think)
even the self-existent substance.
All your consequences, I see, follow  demonstrably
from your supposition; and, were that evident, I believe
it would serve to prove several other things as well as
what you bring it for. Upon which account, I should
be extremely pleased to see it proved by any one. For,
as I design the search after truth as the business of my
life, I shall not be ashamed to learn from any person;
though, at the same time, I cannot but be sensible, that
instruction from some men is like the gift of a prince, it
reflects an honour on the person on whom it lays an
obligation. I am, Reverend Sir,
Your obliged servant.
D-ec. 16, 1713.
THE ANSWER TO THE FOURTH LETTER.
SIR,
MY being out of town most part of the month of January,
and some other accidental avocations, hindered me from
answering your letter sooner. The sum of the difficulties
it contains is, I think, this: that "it is difficult to determine what relation the self-existent substance has to
space:" that " to say it is the substratum  of space, in
the common sense of the word, is scarce intelligible, or,
at least, is not evident:" that "space seems to be as
absolutely self-existent, as it is possible any thing can
b-:" and that "its being a property of the self-existent
sutbstance is supposing the thing that was to be proved."
This is entering indeed into the very bottom  of the
matter; and I will endeavour to give you as brief and
clear an answer as I can.
rThat the self-existent substance is the substratum of
space, or space a property of the self-existent substance,
are not perhaps very proper expressions; nor is it easy
to find such. But what I mean is this: The idea of




300          CORRESPONDENCE i ELTWEEN
space (as also of time or duration) is at. abstract or
partial idea; an idea of a certain quality or relation,
which we evidently see to be necessarily existing; and
yet which (not being itself a substance) at the same time
necessarily presupposes a substance, without which it
could not exist; which substance consequently must be
itself (much more, if possible) necessarily existing.  I.
know not how to explain this so well as by the following
similitude. A blind man, when he tries to frame to
himself the idea of body, his idea is nothing but that of
hardness. A man that had eyes, but no power of motion,
or sense of feeling at all; when he tried to frame to
himself the idea of body, his idea would be nothing but
that of colour.  Now as, in these cases, hardness is not
body, and colour is not body; but yet, to the understanding of these persons, those properties necessarily
infer the being of a substance, of which substance itself
the persons have no idea: so space to us is not itself
substance, but it necessarily infers the being of a substance, which affects none of our present senses; and,
being itself necessary, it follows, that the substance,
which it infers, is (much more) necessary. I am, Sir,
Your affectionate friend and servant.
Jan. 29, 1713.
THE FIFTH LETTER.
REVEREND SIR,
You have very comprehensively expressed, in six or
seven lines, all the difficulties of my letter; which I
should have endeavoured to have made shorter, had I
not been afraid an improper expression might possibly
occasion a mistake of my meaning. I am very glad the
debate is come into so narrow a compass; for I think
now it entirely turns upon this, whether our ideas of
space and duration are partial, so as to presuppose the
existence of some other thing.  Your similitude of the
blind man is very apt, to explain your meaning (which
I think I fully understand), but does not seem to come
entirely up to the matter.  For what is the reason that
the blind man concludes there must be somewhat




DR BUTLER AND DR CLARKE.          301
entuaal, to give him that idea of hardness? It is because
he suppcses it impossible for him to be thus affected,
unless there were some cause of it; which cause, should
it be remeved, the effect would immediately cease too;
and he would,-o more have the idea of hardness, but by
remembrance. Now to apply this to the instance of
space and duratfiu' Since a man, from his having these
ideas, very justly-.roncludes there must be somewhat
external, which is the cause of them; consequently,
should this cause (whatever it is) be taken away, his
ideas would be so too: therefore, if what is supposed to
be the cause be removed, and yet the idea remains, that
supposed cause cannot be the real one. Now, granting
the self-existent substance to be the substratum of these
ideas, could we make the supposition of its ceasing to be,
yet space and duration would still remain unait.ered:
which seems to show, that the self-existent substance is
not the substratum of space and duration. Nor would
it be an answer to the difficulty, to say that every property of the self-existent substance is as necessary as the
substance itself; since that will only hold, while the
sulbstance itself exists; for there is implied, in the idea
of a property, an impossibility of subsisting without its
substratum. I grant, the supposition is absurd: but how
otherwise can we know whether any thing be a property
of such a substance, but by examining whether it should
cease to be, if its supposed substance should do so?
Notwithstanding what I have now said, I cannot say
that I believe your argument not conclusive; for I must
own my ignorance, that I am really at a loss about the
nature of space and duration. But did it plainly appear
that they were properties of a substance, we should have
an easy way with the atheists: for it would at once
prove demonstrably an eternal, necessary, self-existent
Being; that there is but one such; and that he is needful in order to the existence of all other things. Which
makes me think, that though it may be true, yet it is not
obvious to every capacity: otherwise it would have been
generally used, as a fundamental argument to prove the
being of God.
I must add one thing more; that your argument for




3W.?               CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN
the omnipresence of God seemed always to me very
probable. But being very desirous to have. it appear
demonstrably conclusive, I was sometimes forced to say
what was not altogether my opinion: not that I did this
for the sake of disputing, (for, besides the particular
disagreeableness of this to my own temper, I should
surely have chosen anotLer person to have trifled with;)
but I did it to set off the objection to advantage, that it
might be  more fully answered.   I  heartily wish  you as
fair treatment from your opponents in print, as I have had
from you; though, I must own, I cannot see, in those
that I have read, that unprejudiced  search  after truth,
which I would have hoped for.
I am, Reverend Sir,
Your most humble servant.
Feb 3, 1713.
THE ANSWER TO THE FIFTH LETTER.
SIR,
IN a multitude of business, I mislaid your last letter,
and could not answer it, till it came  again  to  my hands
by chance.  We seem  to have pushed the matter in
question between us as far as it will go; and, upon the
whole, I cannot but take notice, I have very seldom met
with persons so reasonable and unprejudiced as yourself,
in such debates as these.
I think all I need say, in answer to the reasoning in
your letter, is, that your granting the absurdity of the
supposition  you were  endeavouring  to- make, is consequently granting the necessary truth of my argument.
If* space and duration necessarily remain, even after they
are supposed to be taken away; and be not (as it is plain
they are not) themselves substances; that thet substance,
* Ut partium temporis ordo est immultabilis, sic etiam ordo partium spatii. Mowv,1l:tur ha de locis suis, et movebunltur (ut ita dicam) de seipsis. Newton. l'rin, i,.
Malathemat. s hol. ad definit. 8.
t Deus non {est aternitas vel infinitas, sed wterntis et inlinitus; non est duratio) v I
spatium, sed durat et adest. Dturat semper, et adest ubique; et existendo semper t-t
ubique, durationem et spatium, eternitatem et infinitatem, constituit. Cum unaquiamqle
spatii particula sit senmper; et uunnqitouqlle durationiis indivisibile momentum iuliqle;
certe reruim omniulr Fabricator ac Domillus nloll erit inulnilam nusquam. Onllipr,lesens est, non per virtutein solam, sed etiamn per u!bs;lantiam: nam virtus sine substaltia
subsistere non potest. III ipso coullineituir et mnoventl,'r "Jiversa &c. Newuton. IPrinct,.
"o[tjmwrat. Schol. acneral. ~f 1h;. sP




DR BUTLER AND DR CLARKE.              303
on whose existence they depend, will necessarily remain
likewise, even after it is supposed to be taken away:
which shows that supposition to be impossible and
contradictory.
As to your observation at the end of your letter; that
the argument I have insisted on, if it were obvious to
every capacity, should have more frequently been used
as a fundamental argument for a proof of the being of
God: the true cause why it has been seldom urged, is,
I think, this; that the universal prevalency of Cartes's
absurd notions (teaching that * matter is necessarily
infinite and necessarily eternal, and ascribing all things
to mere mechanic laws of motion, exclusive of final
causes, and of all will and intelligence and divine Providence from the government of the world) hath incredibly
blinded the eyes of common reason, and prevented men
from discerning him in whom theu live, and move, and have
their being. The like has happened in some other
instances. How universally have men for many ages
believed, that eternity is no duration at all, and infinity
no amplitude! Something, of the like kind has happened
in the matter of transubstantiation, and, I think, in the
scholastic notion of the Trinitv, &c.
I am, Sir,
Your affectionate friend and servant.
Spril 8, 1713.
V ruto implicare contradictionem, ut mundus [meaning the umaterial varlk].:i{,us Carlte. Epoist. 69. Partis prinue.
THE BND.