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Eliot &" Storer's Chemistry, FASQUELLE'S FKENCH COURSE Has had a success unrivaled in this country, having passed through more than Ji/ty editions, and is still the best. Fasquelle's Introductory French Course. Fasquelle's Larger French Course. Revised. Fasquelle's Key to the Above. Fasquelle's Colloquial French Reader. Fasquelle's Telemaque. Fasquelle's Dumas' Napoleon. Fasquelle's Racine. Fasquelle's Manual of French Con- versation. Howard's Aid to French Composi- tion. Talbot's French Pronunciation. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2007 with funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/butlanalogyofreligOObutlrich ^hA^ V^-t-AM D ■^t ^: K. )^ >^ vrv ^ '-V. THE ANALOGY OF llELIOm NATURAL AND REVEALED, CONSTITUTION AND COURSE OF NATURE. BY JOSEPH BUTLER, LL.D. LATB LORD BISHOP OP DCRHAII INTRODUCTORY ESSAY BY ALBERT BARNES. Ejus (analogic) hsec vis est. ud id quod dubium est, ad aliquid fsimile de quo bo qoKritmr, referat ; ut iucerta certis probet — Quint. Inst. Orat L I. e. 6 TWENTIETH EDITION. NEW YORK: IVISON, BLAKEMAN TAYLOR & CO. 1872. r> Entered accoi-din; to Act ot Cungress, In tbe year 185^2, BY NEWMAN it. IVISON, la Uie Clerk's office of the Southern District of New York. I [61 l\OQ TO THK RIGHT HONOURABLE CEIARLES, LORD TALB01\ BARON OF HENSOL, LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR OF GREAT BRITAIN, THE FOLLOWING TREATISE I», WITH ALL RESPECT, INSCRIBED IN ACKNOWLEDGMENT OP THE HIGHEST OBLIGATIC NB TO THE LATE LORD BISHOP OF DURHAM, AND TO HIMSELF BY HIS lordship's MOST DUTIFUL, MOST DEVOTED, AND MOST HUMBLE SERVANT JOSEPH BUTLER. lw3^1«3L Contents Introductory Essay, by Albert Barnes Preface, by Bishop Halifax, Life op D. Butler, by Dr. Kippis, . Advertisement, , t Introduction .... 1 19 27 PAKT I. OF NATURAL RELIGION. CHAP. I. vDf 9 Future Life, . . iW CHAP. n. Of the Government of God by Rewards and Punishments ; and particularly of the latter, . . t . ... 5-1 CHAP. in. Of the Moral Governaient of God, . . . « . . 64 CHAP. IV. Of a State of Probation, as implying TriaJ, Difficulties, and Danger, ^ 84 CHAP. V. Of a State of Piobation, as intended for Moral Discipline and improvement 01 CHAP. VL On the Opfnion of Necessity, considered as influencinjT Practice; 110 CHAP. vn. Of the Government of God, considered as a scheme, or Constit • tion, imperfectly comprehended 123 Coisrr.usioN, 133 CONTENTS. PART II. OP REVEALED RELIGION UHAP. I. Of the importance of Christianiiy, 'S CHAP. !] Of the suy)posed Presumption against a Revelation considered m 31iraci;lous. . . 1 54 CHAP. HI. Of our incajKvcily of judijing what were to be expected in a Revela- tion; and the Cnniihility, from Analogy, that it must contain Things appearing liable to Objections, 160 CHAP. IV. Of Christianity, considered as a Scheme, or Constitution, imperfectly comprehended, 173 CHAP. V. Of the particular System of Christianity; the appointment of a Me- jiaior, and the Redemption of the World by him, . . , , 180 CHAP. VI. Of the Want of Universality in Revelation ; and of the supposed Deficiency in the proof of it, 196 CHAP. VII. Of the particular evidence for Christianity, ..... 213 CHAP. VIII. \jt the objections whifh may be made against arguing from the Anal- ogy of Nature to Religion, 241 CoNCLrsiuN, 251 ryfiS DISSERTATIONS ON PERSONAL IDENTITT. Dissert. 1 358 Disseit. II . 264 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. BY ALBERT BARNES. [Note. The following Essay was orij^inally prepared as a Review of Sutler's AnJiloi(y, for the Quarterly Chris{ian Spectator, and appeared in that work in the Numbers for December, 1830, and March, 1831. With ?c.7ie slight alterations and additions, it is now reprinted as an Introductorv Essay to this Edition of the Analogy.] Philadelphia, Sept, 6, 1832. In directing the attention of our readers to the great work whose title we have placed at the head of this article, we suppose we are rendering an acceptable service chiefly to one class. The ministers of religion, we presume, need not our humble recom- mendation of a treatise so well known as Butler's Analogy. It will not be improper, however, to suggest that even our clerical readers may be less familiar than they should be, with a work which saps all the foundations of unbelief; and may, perhaps, have less faithfully carried out the vrinci'ples of the Analogy, and interwoven them less into their theological system, than might reasonably have been expected. Butler already begins to put on the venerable air of antiquity. He belongs, in the character of his writings at least, to the men of another age. He is abstruse, profound, dry, and, to minds indisposed to thought, is often wea- risome and disgusting. Even in c-eiical estimation, then, his work may sometimes be numbered amcrig lliose repulsive monu- ments of ancient wisdom, wiiich men of this age pass by indis- criminately, as belonging to times of barbarous strength and unpolished warfare. But our design in bringing Butler more distinctly before the fublic eye, has respect primarily to another class of our readers n an age pre-eminently distinguished for the short-lived produc- tions of the imagination ; when reviewers feel themselves bound to serve up to the public taste, rather the deserts and confectiona- ries of the literary world, than the sound ard wholesome fare of other times ; when, in many places, it is even deemed stupid an'^ old-fashioned *o notice an ancient book, or to speak of the wis- dom of our fathers; we desire to do Avhat mav lie in our power lo stay trie headlong propensities of the times, and recal t>e pub- lic rninu to the records of past wisdom. We have, indeed, no olind predilection for the principles of other days. We bow down oefure no opinion because it is ancient. We even feel and believe, that in all the momentous questions pertaining to morals, politics, science, and religion, we are greatly in advance of pasi ages. And our bearts expand with joy at the prospect of still greater simplicity and clearness, in the statement and defeiic*^ of the cardinal doctrines of the refor nation. Mo<-l of the vnonu- VJU INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. iwents of past wisdom, we believe capable of improvement is these respects. Thus we regard the works of Luther, Calvin. Beza, and Owen. We look on them as vast repositories ot learning, piety and genius. In the great doctrines which these works were intended to support, we do firmly believe. Still, though we love to linger in the society of such men : and though our humble intellect bows before them, as in the presence of transcendent genius, yet we feel that in some things their views were darkened by the habits of thinking of a less cultivated age than this; that their philosophy was often wrong, while the doc- trines which they attempted to defend by it were still correct; and that even they would have hailed, on man^ topics, the increased illumination of later times. Had modern ways of thinking been applied to their works; had the results of a deeper investigation into the laws of the mind, and the principles of biblical criticism, been in their possession, their works would have been the most perfect reccrr^s of human wisdom which the world contains. Some of those great mon ar.ient^ of the power of humau thought, however, stand comvKte. By a mighty effort of genius, their authors seized on truth ; they fixed it in permanent forms; they chained down scatte/ea reasonings, and left them to be sur- veyed by men of less nientai stature and far feebler powers. It is a proof of no mear^ tp.jent now to be able to follow where they lead, to grasp in thought, what they had the power to originate. They framed a complete system, at the first touch; and all that lemains fcf coming ages, corresponds to what Johnson has said of poets m respect to Komer, to transpjse their arguments, new n'^me their reasonings, and paraphrase their sentiments.* The works of such men p.ie a collection of principles to be carried into •jvery region of morals and theology, as a standard of all other views of truth. Such a distinction we are disposed to give to Butler's Ar.alogy ; and it is because we deem it worthy of such a distinct;on, that we now single it out from the great v/orks of the past, and commend it to the attention of our readers. There are two great departments of inver.tigation, respecting the " analogy of religion to the constitution and course of nature.* The one contemplates that analogy as existing between the declarations of the Bible, and ascertained facts in the structure of the globe, — the organization of the animal system, — the me- morials of ancient history, — the laws of light, heat, and gravita" ion, — the dimensions of the earth, and the form and motion of the heavenly bodies. From ail these sources, objections have been derived against revelation. The most furious attacks have Deen made, at one time by the geologist, and at another by the •istrcnomer; on one pretence by the antiquarian, and on another DV the chymist, against some part of the system of revealed truth. yet never have any assaults been less successful. Every effort Df this kmd has resulted in the establishment of this great truthj Johnson, Preface to Shakspeare. INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. ix jiat no man has yet commenced an investigation of the works of nature, foi the purpose of assailing revelation, who did no altimately exhibit important facts in its confirmation, just in proportion to his eminence and success in his own department tf inquiry. We are never alarmed, therefore, when we see an infidel philosopher of real talents, commence an investigation into the works of nature. We hail his labours as destined ulti- mately to be auxiliary to the cause of truth. We have learned that here Christianity has nothing to fear; and men of science, we believe, are beginning to understand that here infidelity has nothing to hope. As a specimen of the support which Chris- tianity receives from the researches of science, w(! refer our readers to Ray's Wisdom of God, to Paley's Natural Theology, and to Dick's Christian Philosopher. The other department of investigation to which we referred, is that which relates to the analogy of revealed truth to the actual facts exhibited in the moral government of Ih world. This is the department which Butler has entered, and which he has so suc- cessfully explored. It is obvious that the first is a wider field in regard to the number of facts which bear on the analogy: the latter is more profound and less tangible in relation to the great subjects of theological debate. The first meets more directly the open and plausible objections of the blasphemer; the latter represses the secret infidelity of the hur.ian heart, and silences more effectually the ten thousand clamours which are accustomed to be raised against the peculiar doctrines of the E-ible. The first is open to successive advances, and will be so, till the whole physical structure of the world is fully investigated and known The latter, we may almost infer, seems destined to rest where il now is, and to stand before the world as complete as it ever will De, by one prodigious effort of a gigantic mind. Each successive chymist, anti»-{uarian, astronomer, and anatomist, will throw light on some great departm»^nt of human knowledge, to be moulded to the purposes of religion, by some future Paley, or Dick, or Good ; and in every distinguished m.an of science, whatever may be his religious feelings, we hail an ultimate auxiliary to the cause of truth. Butler, however, seems to stand alone. No adventurous mind has attempted to press his great principles of thought, still further into the regions of moral inquiry. Though ?he subject of moral government is better understood now than ft was i'n his day ; though light has been thrown on the doctruies of theology, and a perceptible advance been made in the know- ledge of the laws of the mind, yet whoever now wishes to know " the analogy of religion to the constitution and course of na-^ure," nas nowhere else to go but to Butler, — or if he is able to c^^ply the p^ mt iplev of Butler, he has only to incorporate them with his own reasonings, to furnish the soluti-on of those facts and diffi- eulties that " perplex mortals." We do not mean by this, that Butler has exhausted the subject. We mean only that no man has attempted to carry it beyond the point where he left it; and ihat his v.'ork, though not in our view as complete as modem X 1 .itorUCxOKr ESSAY. labits of thought would permit it to be, yet stands like one Oi thoge vast piles of^urchitecture commenced in the middle ages pi oofs of consummate skill, of vast power, ot amazing wealth, ye! in some respects incomplete or disproporlioned, but which no one since has dared to remodel, and which no one, perhaps, has had either the wealth, power, or genius, to make m^.e complete. Of Butler, as a man, little is known. This is one of the many cases where we are compelled to lament the want of a full and faithful biography. With the leading facts of his life as a parish I nest and a prelate, we are indeed made acquainted. But here our knowledge of him ends. Of Butler as a man of piety, of tiie secret, practical operations of his mind, we know little. Now it is obvious, that we could be in possession of no legacy more valuable in regard to such a man, than the knowledge of the secret feelings of his heart; of the application of his own modes of thinking to his own soul, to subdue the ever-varying forms of human weakness and guilt; and of his practical way of obvia- ting, for his personal comfort, the suggestions of unbelief in his own bosom. This fact we know, that he was engaged upon his Analogy during a period of twenty years. Yet we know nothing of the effect on his own soul, of the mode in which he blunted and warded off the poisoned shafts of infidelity. Could we see the internal organization of his mind, as we can now see that of Johnson, could we trace the connexion between his habits of thought and hi« pious emotions, it would be a treasure to the. world equalled perhaps only by his Analogy, and one which we may in vain hope now to possess. The true purposes of biogra- phy have been hitherto but little understood. The mere external events pertaining to great men are often of little value. They are iviihout the mind, and produce feelings unconnected with any important purposes of human improvement. Who reads now with any emotion except regret that this is all he can read of such a man as Butler, that he was born in 1692, graduated at Oxford in 1721, preached at the Rolls till 1726, was made bishop of Durham in. 1750, and died in 1752 ? We learn, indeed, that he was high in favour at the university, and subsequently at court; that he was retiring, modest and unassuming in his deportment; and that his elevation to the Deanery of St. Pau/s, xnd to the princely See of Durham, was not the effect of ambi- tion, but the voluntary tribute of those in power to transcendent talent and exalted, though retiring, worth. An instance of his modest and unambitious habits, given in the record of his life is worthy of preservation, and is highly illustrative of his charac- ter. For seven years he was occupied in the humble and )abo- lious duties of a parish priest, at Stanhope. His friends regret- ted his retirement, and sought preferment for him. Mr. Seeker an intimate friend of Bugler, being made chaplain to the king, in 1732, one day in conversation w^ilh Queen Caroline took occasion o mention his friend's name. The queen said she thought h« was dead, and asked Archbishop Blackburn if that was not the ''ase IIi«" rmtlv was, " No, madam, but he is buried.' He wo a INTRODUCTORY ESS A.!. XJ thus raised again to notice, and ultimately to high .ionc\»rs, in the hierarchy of the English church. Butler was naturally of a contemplative and somewhat melan- choly turn of mind. He sought retirement, therefore, and yet needed society. It is probable that natural inclination, as well as the prevalent habits of unbelief in England, suggested the plan of his Analogy. Yet though retiring and unambituus, he was lauded in the days of his advancement, as sustaining the episcopal office with great dignity and splendour; as conducting ihe ceremonies of religion with a pomp approaching the gran- deur of the Roman Catholic form of worship ; and as treating the neighbouring clergy and nobility with the " pride, pomp, and cir- cumstance," becoming, in their view, a minister of Jesus, trans- formed into a nobleman of secular rank, and reckoned among the great officers of state. These are, in our view, spots in the life of Butler ; and all attempts to conceal them, have only rendered them more glaring. No authority of antiquity, no plea of ih«i grandeur of imposing rites, can justify the pomp and circum- stance appropriate to an English prelatical bishop, or invest wiln sacred authority the canons of a church, that appoints the hum ble ministers of him who had not where to lay his head, to the splendours of a palace or the pretended honours ol an archiepisco- pal throne — to a necessary alliance, under every danger to per- sonal and ministerial character, with profligate noblemen, or intriguing and imperious ministers. But Butler drew his title to memory in subsequent ages, neither from the tinsel of rank, the stafTand lawn of office, nor the attendant pomp and grandeur aris- ing from the possession of one of the richest benefices in Eng- land. Butler the prelate will be forgotten. Butler ihe author oj the Analogy will live to the last recorded time. In the few remains of the life of Butler, we lament, still more than any thing we have mentioned, that we karn nothing of his habits of study, his mode of investigation, and especially the pre cess by which he composed hjs Analogy. We are told indeed that it combines the results of his thoughts for twenty years, and his observations and reading during that long period of his hfe. He is said to have written and re-written different parts of it, to have studied each word, and phrase, until it expressed precisely his meaning and no more. It bears plenary evidence, that it must have been written by such a condensing and epitomizing process. Any man may be satisfied of this, who attempts to express the thoughts in other language than that employed in the Analogy. Instinctively the sentences and paragraphs will swell out to a much greater size, and defy all the powers we possess to reduce them to their primitive dimensions, unle:iS t^Sey be driven wilhin the precise enclosures prescribed by the minu of Butler. We regret in vain that this is all our know- ledge of the mechanical and mental process by which this book was composed. We are not permitted to see him at his toil, to mark the workings of his mind, and to learn the art of looking mtensely at a thought, until we see it standing alone, aloof from HI INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. nil altendanls, and prepared for a permanent location where the author intended to fix its abode, to be comtemplated as he view- ed it, in all coining ages. We can hardly repress our indigna- tion, that those who undertake to write the biography of such gifted men, should not tell us less of their bodies, their trappings, their honours and their offices, and more of the workings of the spirit, the process of subjecting and restraining the native wan- derings of the mind. Nor can we cuppress the sigh of regret that he has not himself revealed to us, what no other man could have done ; and admitted subsequent admirers to the intimacy ot tViendship, and to a contemplation of the process by which the Analogy was conceived and executed. Over the past however il is in vain to sigh. Every man feels that hitherto we have had but little Biography. Sketches of the external circumstances o! many men we have — genealogical tables without number, and without end — chronicled wonders, that such a man was born and died, ran through such a circle of honours, and obtained such a mausoleum to his memory. But histories of mind we have not; and for all the great purposes of knowledge, we should know as much of the man, if we had not looked upon the misnamed biography. We now take leave of Butler as a man, and direct our thoughts more particularly to his great work. Those were dj^rk and portentous times which succeeded the reign of the second Charks. That voluptuous and witty monarch, had contributed more than any mortal before or since his time, to fill a nation with infidels, and debauchees. Corruption had seized upon the highest orders of the state ; and it flowed down on all ranks of the community. Every grade in life had caught the infection of the court. Profligacy is alternately the parent and the child of unbelief. The unthinking multitude of courtiers and flatterers, that fluttered around the court of Charles had learned to scofl" at Christianity, t.nd to consider it as not worth the trouble of anx- ious thought- The influence of the court extended over the na- tion. It socn infected the schools and professions : and perhaps there has not hoen a time in British history, when infidelity had become so general, and had assumed a form so malignant. It had attached itself to dissoluteness, deep, dreadful, and universal. It was going hand in hand with all the pleasures of a profligate court, It was identified with all that actuated tie souls of Charles snd his ministers,* it was the kind of infidelity which fitted an unthinking age — scorn:ng alike reason, philos.phy, patient thoi^ht, and purity of morals. So that in the language of But- lei, ' il had come to be taken for granted by many persons, that Cbris:tiinHy is not so much as a subject of investigation, but that it is ncv/ at length, discovered to be fictitious, and accordingly they trea u, as if in the present age, this were an agreed point among a\ people of discernment, and nothing remained but to Kei it up a:« a principal subject of mirth and ridicule, as it were oy way of lepiisals tor its having so long interrupted the plea- sures of the v/(>rlJ.*' lu times oi such universal profligccy and raTRODUCTORY ESSAY. Xl infidelity aro«e in succession, Locke, NeAVton, and Butler, the wo former of whom we need not say have been unsurpassed in great powers of thought, and in the influence which they ex- erted on tne sentiments of mankind. It needed such men to bring back a volatile generation to habits of profound thought in the sciences. It needed such a man as Butler, in our view not i. ferior in profound thought to either, and whose Avorks will nave a more permanent efihct on the destinies of men, than both — to arrest the giddy steps of a nation, to bring religion from tiie palace of a scoffing prince and court to the bar of sober thought, and to show that Christianity was not undeserving of sober inquiry. This was the design of the Analogy. It was not so much to furnish a complete demonstration of the truth of reli- gion, as to show that it could not be proved to be false. It was to show that it accorded with a great, every Avhere seen, system of things actually going on in the world ; and that attacks made on Christianity were to the same extent assaults on the course ot nature, and of nature's God. Butler pointed the unbeliever to a grand system of things in actual existence, a tvorld with every variety of character, feeling, conduct and results — a system of things deeply mysterious, yet developing great principles, and bearing proof that it was under the government of God. He traced certain indubitable acta of the Almighty in a course of nature, Avhose existence could not be denied. Now if it could bk shown that Christianity contamed like results, acts, and princi- ples ; if it was a scheme involving no greater mystery, and derhanding a correspondent conduct on the part of man, it would be seen that it had proceeded from the same author. In other words the abjections alleged against Christianity, being equally applicable against the course of nature, could not be valid. To show this, was the design of Butler. In doing this, he carried the war into the camp of the enemy. He silenced the objec or's arguments; or if he still continued to urge them, showed him that with equal propriety they could be urged against the acknow- ledged course of things, against his own principles of conduct on other subjects, against what indubitably affected his condition here, and what might therefore affect his doom hereafter. ^Ve are fond of thus looking at the Bible as -part of one vast plan of communicating truth to created intelligences. We know It is the fullest, and most grand, of all God's ways of teachmg men, standing amidst the sources of information, as the sun does amidst the stars of heaven, quenching their feeble glimmerings in tlie fulness of its meridian splendour. But to carry forward the illustration, the sun does, indeed, cause the stars of night to "hide their diminished heads," but we see in both but one sys- tem of laws ; and v;hether in the trembling of the minutest orb that emits its faint rays to us from the fariliest bounds of space. or the full light of the sun at noon-day, we trace the hand of the same God, and feel that " all are but parts of one stupendous whole." Thus it is with revelation. We know that its truths comprise all that thd world elsewhere contains, that its authoritv" V rNTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 15 supreme over all the other sourres of knowledge, and ali the other facts of the moral system. But there are otnei sources of information — a vast multitude of facts that we expect to find in accordance with this brighter effulgence from heaven, and it is these facts which the Analogy brings ic the aid of revelation. The Bible is in religion, wi'iat the tele- scope is in astronomy. It does not contradict any thing before known ; it does not annihilate any thing before seen ; it carries the eje forward into new worlds, opens it upon more splendid fields of vision, and displays grander systems, where we thought there was but the emptiness of space, or the darkness of illimit- able and profound night ; and divides the milky way into vast clusters of suns and stars, of worlds and systems. In all the boundlessness of these fields of vision, however, does the tele- scope point us to any new laws of acting, any new principle by which the universe is governed? The astronomer tells us not. It is the hand of the same God which he sees, impelling the neAV worlds that burst on the view in the immensity of space, with the same irresistible and inconceivable energy, and encompass- mg them with the same clear fields of light. So we expect to find it in revelation. We expect to see plans, laws, purposes, actions and results, uniform with the facts in actual existence before our eyes. Whether in the smiles of an infant, or the wrapt feelings of a seraph; in the strength of manhood, or the power of Gabriel; in the rewards of virtue here, or the crown of glory hereafter, we expect to find the Creator acting on one grand principle of moral government, applicable to all these facts, and to be vindicated by the same considerations. When we approach the Bible, we are at once struck with a most striking correspondence of plan to that which obtains in Sie natural world. When loe teach theology in our schools we do it by system, by form, by technicalities. We frame what we call a " body of divinity,'' expecting all its parts to cohere and agree. We shape and clip the angles and points of our theology, till they shall fit, like the polished stones of the temple of Solomon, into their place. So when we teach astronomy, botany, or geogra- phy, it is by a regular sy;>tem before us, having the last discove- ries of the science located in their proper place. But how differ- ent is the plan, which, in each of these departments, is pursued by infinite wisdom. The truths which God designs to teach us, lie spread over a vast compass. They are placed without much apparent order. Those ef revelation lie before us, just as the various facts do, which go to make up a system of botany or astronomy. The great Author of nature has not placed all flow- ers in a single situation, nor given them a scientific arrange- ment. They are scattered over the wide world. Part nloom on the mountain, part in the valley; part shed their fragrance neai the runninc^ stream ; part pour their sweetness in the desert air '^ in the solitary waste where no man is ;" *part climb in vines to giddy heights, and part are found in the bosom of the might* waters, tie that forn-s a theory of botany must do it, therefore tNTRODUCTOhf ESSAy. XV with liardy toil. He will find the materials, not the system, made ready to his hands. He will exhaust his life perhaps in his 'ahour, before the system stands complete. Why should we not expect to find the counterpart of all this in religion? When we look at the Bihie, we find the same state of things. At first but a ray of light beamed upon the dark path of our apostate parents, wandering from paradise. The sun that had stood over their heads in the garden of pleasure, at their fall sunk to the west and left them in the horrors of a moral midnight. A single ray, in the promise of a Saviour, shot along their path, and directed lo the source of day. But did God reveal a whole system ? Did he tell them all the truth that he knew? Did he tell all that we know? He did just as we have supposed in regard to the first J botanist. The eye was fixed on one truth distinctly. Subse- quent revelations shed new light; advancing facts confirmed preceding doctrines and promises; rising prophets gave confiim at ion to the hopes of men ; precepts, laws, and direct revelation* ro?e upon the world, until the system of revealed truth is now complete. Man has all he can have, except the facts which the progress of things is yet to develope in confirmation of the system ; just as each new budding flower goes to confirm the just princi- ples of the naturalist, and to show what the system is. Yet how do we possess the system ? As arranged, digested, and reduced to order ? Far from it. We have the book of revelation just as we have the book of nature. In the beginning of the Bible, for example, we have a truth abstractly taught, in another part iHuslrated in the life of a prophet; as we advance it is confirmed by the fuller revelation of the Saviour or the apostles, and we find its full 'development only when the whole book is complete. Here stands a law; there a promise; there a profound mystery, unarranged, undigested, yet strikingly accordant with a multitude of correspondent views in the Bible, and with as many in the moral world. Now here is a mode of communication, which (inpcsture would have carefully avoided, because detection, it would foresee, must, on such a plan, be unavoidable. It seems to us that if men had intended to impose a system on the world it would have been somewhat in the shape of our bodies oi divi- nity, and therefore very greatly unlike the plan which we actu- ally find in the Bible. A.t any rate, we approach the Scriptures with this strong presumption in favour of its truth, that it accords precisely with what we see in astronomy, chymistry, botany, aid geography, and that the mode of constructing systems in ail these sciences, is exactly the same as in dogmatical tiiooiogy. We have another remark to make on this subject. The bota- nist does not shape his facts. He is the collector, the arranger, not the originator. So the framer of systems in religion shoidd ne — and it is matter of deep regret that such he has net been. He should be merely the collector, the arranger, not the originator Df the doctrines of the gospel. Though then we think him of "tme importance, yet we do not set a l.igii valne on his labours. JCyi INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. We honour the toils of a man who tells of tho uses, beaiuics antf medicinal properties of the plant, far more than of him who merely declares its rank, its order, its class in the Linna^an sys' tem. So hi theology, we admire the greatness of mind which can bring out an original truth, illustrate it, and show its proper bearing on the spiritual interests of our race, far more than we do the plodding chiseller who shapes it to its place in his sy*stem. It makes no small demand on our patience, when we see the sys- tem-maker remove angle after angle, and apply stroke after stroke, to some great mass of truth which a mighty genius has struck out, but which keen-eyed and jealous orthodoxy will not admit to its proper bearing on the souls of men, until it is located in a creed, and cramped into some frame-work of faith, that has bten reared around the Bible. Our sympathy with such men as Butler, and Chalmers, and Foster, and Hall, is far greater than with Turretine or Ridgely. With still less patience do we listen to those whose only business it is to shape and reduce to pre scribed form ; who never look at a passage in the Bible or a fact in nature, without first robbing it of its freshness, by an attempt to give it a sectarian location : — Avho never stumble on an ori- ginal and unclassified idea, without asking whether the system- maker had left any niche for the late-born intruder; and Avho' applies to it all tests, as to a non-descript substance in chymistry, m order to fasten on it the charge of an aflRnity with some rejected confession, or some creed of a suspected name. This is to abuse reason and revelation, for the sake of putting honour on creeds. It is to suppose that the older creed-makers had before them all shades of thought, all material and mental facts, all knowledge of what mind has been and can he, and all pther know- ledge of the adaptedness of the Bible, to every enlarged and fluc- tuating process of thought. It is to doom the theologian to an eternal dwelling in Greenland frost and snows, instead of sending him forth to breathe the mild air of freedom, and to make him a large-minded and fearless interpreter of the cracles of God. It IS not our intention to follow the profound author of the Analogy through his laboured demonstrations, or to attempt to offer an abridged statement of his reasoning. Butler, as we have already remarked, is incapable of abridgement. His thoughts art* already condensed into as narrow a compass, as the nature of language will admit. All that we purpose to do, is to give a specimen of the argument from analogy in support of the Chris- tian religion, without veTy closely following the book before us. The main points at issue between Christianity and its opposers are, whether there is a future state ; \\Jiether our conduct here wili affect our condition there; whether God so controls things as to reward and punish ; whether it is reasonable to acx with reference to our condition hereafter; whether the favour of Go(< Js to be obtained with, or without the mediation of another, whether crime and suffering are indissolubly united iu the moral government of God ; and whether Christianity is a scheme in iiccordance with the acknowledged law? of the universe and u INTRODUCTORJr ESSAY. XVlj iiippcrted by evidence so clear as to make it proper to act on the Delief of its truth. Infidelity, in its proper form, approaches man with the decla* ation that there cannot be a future state. It affirms, often with much apparent concern, that there can be no satisfactory evi- dence of Avhat pertains to a dark, invisible, and distant world; that the mind is incompetent to set up landmarks along its future course, and that we can have no certain proof that in that dark abyss, w-e shall live, act, or think at all. It affirms that the whole analogy of things is against such a supposition. We have no evidence, it declares, that one of all the millions who hava died, lias lived beyond the grave. In sickness, and old age, it is said ihe body and soul seem alike to grow feeble and decay, and boilj seem to expire together. That they ever exist separate, it is said, has not been proved. That such a dissolution and sepa- rate existence should take place, is affirmed to be contrary to the analogy of all other things. That the soul and body should be united again, and constitute a single being, is said to be without a parallel fact in other things, to divest it of its inherent impro- bability. Now let us suppose for a moment that, endued with our pre- sent powers of thought, we had been united to bodies of far fee- bler frame and much more slender dimensions, than we now inhabit. Suppose that our spirits had been doomed to inhabit the body of a crawling reptile, scarce an inch in length, prone on the earth, and doomed to- draw out our little length to obtain loco- motion from day to day, and scarce noticeable by the mighty beings above us. Suppose in that lowly condition, as we con- templated the certainty of our speedy dissolution, we should look upon our kindred reptiles, the partners of our cares, and should see their strength gradually waste, their faculties grow dim, their bodies become chill in death. Suppose now it should be revealed to us, that those bodies should undergo a transformation ; that at no great distance of time they should start up into new being ; that in their narrow graves there should be se-en the evidence of returning life ; and that these same deformed, prone, and decay- ing frames, should be clothed with the beauty of gaudy colours, be instinct with life, leave the earth, soar at pleasure in a new element, take their rank in a new order of beings, be divested of all that was offensive and loathsome in their old abode in the eyes of other beings; and be completely dissociated from all the plans, habits, relations and feelings of their former lowly condi- tion. We ask whether against this supposition there would not lie all the objections, which have ever been alleged against the doctrine of a resurrection, and a future state ? Yet the world has long been familiar with changes of this character. The changes which animal nature undergoes to produce the gay colours of the Butterfly, have as much antecedent improbability as those pei- taining to the predicted resurrection, and for aught that we can see, are improbabilities of precisely the same nature. So in a :ase still more in point. No two states which revelation has 2* X\lll INTRODUCTOllY ESSAY. presented, as actually contemplated in tne condition of man, an more unlike than those of an unborn infant, and of a hoary rnan ripe with wisdom and honours. To us it appears that the state of the embryo, and that of Newton, Locke, and Bacon, have a', least, as much dissimilarity, as those between man here, and man in a future state. Grant that a revelation could be made to SMch an embryo, and it would be attended with all the difficuliics that are supposed to attend the doctrine of revelation. That this unformed being should leave the element in which it commences its existence ; that it should be ushered into another element will) powers precisely adjusted to its new state, and useless in its first abode — like the eye, the ear, the hand, the foot ; that i* should assume relations to hundreds, and thousands of othet beings at first unknown, and these, too, living in what to the embryo must be esteemed a different world ; that it should be capable of traversing seas, of measuring the distances of stars, of guaging the dimensions of suns ; that it could calculate with unerring certainty the conjunctions and oppositions, the transits and altitudes of the vast wheeling orbs of immensity, is as improbable as any change, which man, under the guidance of revelation, has yet expected in his most sanguine moments. Yet nothing is more familiar to us. So the analogy might be run through all the changes which animals and vegetables exhi- bit. Nor has the infidel a right to reject the revelations of Christianity respecting a future state, until he has disposed of facts of precisely the same nature with which our world abounds. But are we under a moral government ? Admitting the pro- bability of a future state, is the plan on which the world is actually administered, one which will be likely to affect our condition there? Is there any reason to believe, from the analogy of things, that the affairs of the universe will ever in some future condition, settle .down into permanency and order? That this is the doctrine of Christianity, none can deny. It is a, matter of clear revelation — indeed it is the entire busis am structure of the scheme, that the affairs of justice and of law, are under suspense ; that "judgment now lingereth and damna- tion slumbereth;" that, crmie is for the present dissociated from wo, for a specific purpose, viz. that mortals may repent and be forgiven ; and that there will come a day when the native indis- soluble connexion btjtween sin and suffering shall be restored, and that they shall ihen travel on hand in hand for ever. This is the essence of Christianity. And it is a most interesting inquiry, whether any thing like this can be found in the actual government of the world. Now it cannot be denied, that on this subject, men are thrown mto a most remarkable — a chaotic mass of facts. The world is so full of irregularity — the lives of wicked mei are apparently so often peaceful and triumphant — virtue so often pines neg- lected in the vole of obscurity, or weeps and groans under the lion hnnd of the oppressor, that it appals men in all theii INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. \l1 ittempts to reduce the system to order. Rewards and punish ments, are so often apparently capricious/that there is presump tivc proof, in tlie mind of the infidel, that it will always conlniue BO to be. And yet what if, amidst all this apparent disorder there should be found the elements of a grand and glorious sys- tem, soon to rise on its ruins ? What if, amidst all the triumphs of vice, there should still be found evidence to prove that God works by an unseen power, but most eliectually, in sending judicial inflictions on men even now? And what if, amidst these ruins, there is still to be found evidence, that God regards virtue even here, and is preparing for it appropriate rewards hereafter; like the parts of a beautiful temple strewed and scat- tered in the ruins of some ancient city, but still if again placed together, symmetrical, harmonious, and grand? Christianity proceeds on the supposition that such is the fact and amidst all the wreck of human things, we can still discover certam fixed results of human conduct. The consequences of an action do not terminate with the commission of the act itself, nor with the immediate effect of that act on the body. They travel over into future results, and strike on some other, often some distant part of our earthly existence. Frequently the true effect of the act is not seen except beyond some result that may be considered as the accidental one ; though for the sake of that immediate effect the act may have been performed. This is strikingly the case in the worst forms of vice. The immediate effect, for example, of intemperance, is a certain pleasurable sensation for the sake of which the man became intoxicated. The true effect, or the eflfect as part of moral government, travels beyond that temporary delirium, and is seen in the loss of health, character, and peace, — perhaps not terminating in its conse- quences during the whole future progress of the victim. So the direct result of profligacy may be the gratification of passion ; — of avarice, the pleasurable indulgence of a groveling pro* pensity; — of amliition, the glow of feeling in splendid achieve- ments, or the grandeur and pomp of the monarch, or the war- rior ; — of dueling, a pleasurable sensation that revenge has been taken for insult. But do the consequences of *nese deeds ter- minate here ? If they did, we should doubt the moral govern- ment of God. But in regard to their ultimate effects, the uni- verse furnishes but one lesson. The consequences of these deeds travel over in advance of this pleasure, and fix themselves deep beyond human power to eradicate them, in the property health, reputation or peace of the man of guilt;— nay, perhaps the consequences thicken until we take our last view of him, aa he gasps in death, and all that we know of him, as he goes from our oliservation, is that heavier thundtrbolts are seen trem- bling in the hanJ of God, and pointing their vengeance at the head of the dying man. What infidel can prove that some oi the results, at least, of that crime, may not travel on to meet aim in his f'lture being, and beset his goings there ? Further, as a ^en^ral law the virtuous are prospered, and the XX INTROI>UCTORY ESSAY. wicked punished. Society is organized for this. Law : ar( made for this. The entire community throws its arms arounfl the man of virtue; and in like manner, the entire community', by its laws, gather around the transgressor. Let a man attempt to commit a crime, and before the act is committed, he may meet with fifty evidences, that he is doing that which will in- volve him in ruin. He must struggle with his conscience. He must contend with wliat he knows to have been the uniform judgment of men. He nmst keep himself from the eye of jus- ice, and that very attempt is proof to him that there is a mora' government He must overcome all the proofs which have been set up, that men approve of virtue. He must shun the presence of every man, for from that moment, every member of the com- munity, becomes, of course, his enemy. He must assume dis- guises to secure him from the eye of justice. He must work his way through the community during the rest of his life, with the continued consciousness of crime ; eluding by arts the officers of the law, fearful of detection at every step, and never certain that at some unexpected moment, his crime may not be revealed, and the heavy arm of justice fall on his guilty head. Now all this proved that in his view he is under a moral government. How knows he, that the same system of things may not meet him hereafter; and that in some future world the hand of justice may not reach him ? The fact is sufficiently universal to be a proper ground of action, that virtue meets with its appropriate reward and vice is appropriately punished. So universal is this fact, that more than nine tenths of all the world, have confidently acted on its belief. The young man expects that industry and sobriety will be recompensed in the healthfulness, peace, and honour of a venerable old age. The votary of ambition expects to climb the steep, "where fame's proud temple shines afar," and to enjoy the rewards of office or fame. And so uniform is the administration of the world in this respect, that the success oi one generation, lays the ground for the confident anticipations cf another. So it has been from the beginning of time, and so it will be to the end of the world. We ask why should not man . with equal reason, suppose his conduct now may affect his des tiny, at the next moment or the next year beyond his death ? Is there any violation of reason in supposing that the soul may be active there, and meet there the results of conduct here ? Can it be proved that death suspends, or annihilates existence ? Uu- less it can, the man who acts in his youm with reference to his happiness at eighty years of age, is acting most unwisely if he does not extend his thoughts to the hundredth, or the thousandth year of his bein 5. What if it should be found, as the infidel cannot deny it maybe. that (l.^aTh suspends not existence, so much as one night's sleep ? At the close of each day, we see the powers of man prostrate Weakness and lassitude come over all the frame. A torpoi elsewhere unknown in the history of animal nature, spreads through all the facilities. The eyes close the ears become deaf INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. XXI lo hearing-, the palate to taste, the skin to touch, the nostrils tc smell, all the faculties are locked in entire insensibility, alike strangers to the charms of music, the tones of friendship, the beauties of creation, the luxury of the banquet, and the voice of revelry. The last indication of mind to appearance is gone, or the indications of its existence are far feebler than when we see man die in the full exertion of his mental powers, sympathizing in feelings of friendship, and cheered by the hopes of religion. Yet God passes his hand over the frame when we sleep, and instinct with life, again we rise to business, to pleasure, or to ambition. But what are the facts which meet us, as the result of the doings of yesterday ? Have we lost our hold on those actions ? The man of industry yesterday, sees to-day, his fields waving in the sun, rich with a luxuriant harvest. The pro- fessional man of business finds his doors crowded, his ways thronged, and multitudes awaiting his aid in law, in medicine, or in the arts. The man of virtue yesterday, reaps the rewards of it to-day, in the respect and confidence of mankind ; and in the peace of an approving conscience, and the smiles of God. The man of intemperate living rises to nausea, retching, pain, and wo. Poverty, this morning clothes in rags the body of him who was idle yesterday ; and disease clings to the goings, and fixes itself in the blood of him, who was dissipated. Who can tell but death shall be less a suspension of existence than this night's sleep ? Who can tell but that the consequences of our doings here, shall travel over our sleep in the tomb, and greet us in our awaking in some new abode ? Why should they not ? Why should God appoint a law so wise, and so uni- versal here, that is to fail the moment we pass to some other part of our being ? Nor are the results of crime confined to \)i\e place where the act was committed. Sin, in youth, may lay the foundation of a disease, that shall complete its work on the other side of the globe. An early career of dissipation in America, may fix in the frame the elements of a disorder, that shall complete its work in the splendid capital of the French, or it may be in the sands of the Equator, or the snows of Siberia. If crime may thu'" ravel i:i its results around the globe, if it may reach out its ' cflering hand over seas, and mountains, and continents, and seek out its Ueeing victim in the solitary waste, or in the dark night, we see not why it may not be stretched across the grav^e, and meet the yictim there — at least we think the analogy should make the transgressor tremble, and turn pale as he flies to eternity. But it is still objected that the rewards given to virtue, and the pain inflicted on vice, are not universal, and that there is not, tlierefore, the proof that was to have been expected, that they will be hereafter, fiere we remark that it is evidently not the design of religion to affirm that the entire system can be seen ia our world. We say that the system is not fully developed, and that there is, therefore, presumptive proof that there is another state of things. Every one must have been struck with the fact, rxil INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. that hiin.ian affairs are cut off in the midst of their way, anc i\i?M completion removed to some other world. No earthly systeir or plan has been carried out to its full extent There is no proof that we have ever seen the full result of any given system of conduct. "We see the effect of vice as far as the structure of the body will allow. We see it prostrate the frame, produce disease and terminate m death. "We see the effect on body and mind alike, until we lose our sight of the man in the grave. There our observation stops. But who can tell what the effect of mtemperance, for example, would be in this world, if the body were adjusted to bear its results a little longer ? Who can cal julate with what accelerated progress the consequences would thicken beyond the time when we now cease to observe them ? And who can affirm that the same results may not await the mind hereafter? Again we ask the infidel why they should not? He is bound to tell us. The presumption is against him. Besides, the effect of vice is often arrested in its first stage. A young man suddenly dies. For some purpose, unseen to human eyes, the individual is arrested, and the effect of his crimes is removed into eternity. Why is this more improbable than that the irregularities of youth should run on, and find their earthly completion in the wretchedness and poverty of a dishonoured old age. So virtue is often arrested. The young man of promise, of talent, and of piety, dies. The completion of the scheme is arrested. The rewards are dispensed in another world. So says religion. And can the infidel tell us why they should not be dis- pensed there, as well as in the ripe honours of virtuous man hood ? This is a question which infidelity must answer. The same remarks are as applicable to communities as to indi- viduals. It is to be remembered here, that virtue has never had a full and impartial trial. The proper effect of virtue here, would be seen in a perfectly pure community. Let us suppose such an oiganization of society. Imagine a community of virtuous men where the most worthy citizens should always be elected to office, where affairs should be suffered to flow on far enough to give the system a complete trial ; where vice, corruption, flattery, bribes, and the arts of office-seeking, should be unknown ; where ini Tierance, gluttony, lust, and dishonest gains, should be shut out bj 'he laws, and by the moral sense of the commonwealth; where industry and sobriety should universally prevail, and be honored, i. there any ditficulty in seeing that if this sy^teoi were to prevail for many ages, the nation would be signall'y pros- f>erous, and gain a wide dominion ? And suppose, on the other land, a community made up on the model of the New-Harmony plan, the asylum of the idle, of the unprincipled, and the profli- gate. Suppose that the men of the greatest physical power, and most vice, should rule, as they infallibly, would do. Suppose ihere was no laAV, but the single precept enjoining universal indulgence ; and suppose that, under some miraculous and terri- ol* binding together by divine pressure, this community should te kept from falling to pieces, or destroying itself, for a few ages IKTRODUCTORT ESSAY. • XXWI is thet« any difficulty in seeing what would be the proper effect ot crime ? Indeed, we deem it happy for the world tliat one Robert Owen has been permitted to live to make the experiment on a small scale, and but one, lest the record of total proHigacy and corruption should not be confined to the singularly named NeW'Hm-mony. All this proves there is something either in the franiv^-work of society itself, or in the agency of some Great Being presiding over human things, that smiles on virtue, and frowns on vice. In other words, there is a moral government. It is further to be remarked that, as far as the experiment has been suffered to go on in the world, it has been attended with a uniform result. Nations are suffered to advance in wickedness, until they reach the point, in the universal constitution of thmgs,- that is attended with self-destruction. So fell Gomorrah, Baby- lon, Athens, Rome, expiring just as the drunkard does — by excess of crime, or by enervating their strength in luxury and vice. The body politic, enfeebled by corruption, is not able to susiam the incumbent load, and sinks, like the human frame, in ruin. So has perished every nation, from the vast dominions of Alex- ander the Macedonian, to the mighty empire of Napoleon, that has been reared in lands wet with the blood of the slam, and incumbent on the pressed and manacled liberties of maa. In national, as well as in private affairs, the powers of doin^ evil soon exhaust themselves. The frame in which they act is not equal to the mighty pressure, and the nation or the individual sinks to ruin. Like some tremendous engine, of many wheels and complicated machinery, when the balance is removed, and it is suffered to waste its powers in self-propulsion, wiiiiout checks ar guides, the tremendous energy works its own ruin, rends the machine in pieces, and scatters its rolling and Hying wheels in a thousand directions. Such is the frame ol society, and such the frame of an individual. So we expect, if God gave up the world to unrestrained evil it would accomplish Us own perdition. We think we see in every human frame, and in the mingled and clashing powers ol every society, the elements of ruin, and all that is necessary to secure that ruin is to remove the pressure of the hand that now restrains the wild and terrific powers, and saves the world from self-destruction. So if virtue had a fair trial, we apprehend it would be as complete in its results. We expect, in heaven, it will secure its own rewuMs — like the machine which we have supposed — always harmonious in its movements. So in hell, we expect there will be the ele- ments of universal misrule — and that all the foreign force that will be necessary to secure eternal misery, will be Almighty power to preserve the terrible powers in unrestrained being, and to press them into the same mighty prison-house — just like some adamantine enclosure that should keep the engine together and fix the locality of its tremendous operations. Long ago it had passed into a proverb, that murder will out.* This is just an illustration of what we are supposing. Let a murderer live long -enough, and such is the organization oi XXIF • INTRODUCTORT ESSAY. society, that vengeance will find him out. Such, we suppose, would be the case in regard to all crime, if sufficient permanency were given to the affairs of men, and if things were not arrested in the midst of their way. Results in eternity, we suppose, are but the transfer to another state of results which would take place here, if the guilty were not removed. We ask the infidel, — we ask tiie Universalist, why this state of things should be arrested by so unimportant a circumstance as death ] Here is a uniform system of things — uniform as far as the eye can run it backward into past generations,- -uniform, so as to becorne the foundation of laws and of the entire conduct of the world, — and uniform, so far as the eye can trace the results of con^uci forward in all the ' landmarks set up along our future course. Unless God change, and the affairs of other worlds are administered on principles different from ours, it must be that the system will receive lis appropriate termination there. It belongs to the infidel and the Universalist to prove, that the affairs of the universe come to a solemn pause at death ; that we are ushered into a world of dif- ferent laws, and different principles of government, — that we pass under a new sceptre, a sceptre too, not of justice, but of dis- order, misrule, and the arrest of all that God has begun in his administration ; — that the results of conduct, manifestly but just commenced here, are finally arrested by some strange and unknown principle at our death ; — and that we are to pass to a world of which we know nothing, and in which we have no means of conjecturing what will be the treatment which crime and virtue will receive. We ask them, can they demonstrate this strange theory ? Are men willing to risk their eternal welfare on the presumption,, that God will be a different being therefrom what he is here, and that the conduct which meets with wo here, ivili there meet xuith bliss ? Why not rather suppose, — as Christianity does — accord'Ofl; to all the analogy of things, that the same Almighty hand shall be stretched across all worlds alike, and that tje holts which vibi-ate in his hand now, and point their thunders nt the head of the guilty, shall fall with tremendous weight there, and close, in eternal life and death, the scenes begun on .earth ? AVe know of no men who are acting under so fearful probabili- ties against their views, as those who deny the doctrine of futurt punishment. Here is a long array of uniform facts, all, as we understand them, founded on the presumption that the scheme of the infidel cannot be true. The system is continued through all the revolutions to which men are subject. Conduct, in its results, travels over all the interruptions of sleep, sickness, absence, delirium, that man meets with, and passes on from age to age. The conCuct of yesterday terminates in results to-day ; that of youth xtends int3 old age; that of health reaches even beyond a season of sickness ; that of sanity, beyond a state of delirium. Crime here meets its punishment, it may be after we have crossed oceans, and snows, and sands, in some other part of the glole. Far fiom '^ountry md home, in lands of strangers where .NTRODrCTTORY ESSAY. XtV DO eye may recognise or pity us, but that of the unseen witness of our actions, it foliows us in remorfie of conscience, or in the ludgments of the storm, the siroc, or the ocean. We are amazed ihal it should be thought that death will arrest this course of things, and that crossing that narrow vale, will do for us what the passage from yesterday to to-day, from youth to age, from the land of our birth to the land of strangers and of solitudes, can never do. Grjilty man carries the elements of his o\\n perdition within him, and it matters little whether he be in society or in solitude, in this world or the next — the inward fires will burn, and the sea and the dry land, and the burning climes of hell, will gend forth their curses to greet the wretched being, who has dared to violate the laws of the unseen God, and to "hail" him as the "new possessor" of the "profoundest hell." But the infidel still objects that all this is mere probability, and that in concerns so vast, it is unreasonable to act without demonstration. We reply, that in few of the concerns of life do men act from demonstration. The farmer sows with the proha' bilitij, only, that he will reap. The scholar toils with the proba- bility, often a slender one, that his life will be prolonged, and success crown his labours m subsequent life. The merchant commits his treasures to the ocean, embarks perhaps all he lia« on the bosom of the deep, under the probability that propitious gales will waft the riches of the Indies into port. Under this probability, and this only, the ambitious man pants for li'_»nour, the votary of pleasure presses to the scene of dissipation, the youth, the virgin, the man of middle life, and he of hoary hairs, alike crowd round the scenes of honour, of va-nity, and of gain. Nay, more, some of the noblest qualities of the soul are brought forth only on the strength of probabilities that appear slight to less daring spirits. In the eye of his countrymen, few things were more improbable than that Columbus would survive the dangers of the deep, and land on the shores of a new hemisphere. Nothing appeared more absurd than his reasonings — nothin;" more chimerical than his plans. Yet under the pressure of proof that satisfied his own mind, he braved the dangers of an untra- versed ocean, and bent his course to regions whose existence was as far from the belief of the old world, as that of heaven is tVom the faith of the infidel. Nor could the unbelieving Spaniard deny, that under the pressure of the probability of the existence of a western continent, some of the highest qualities of mind lliat the earth has seen, were exhibited by the Genoese navigator —just as the infidel must admit that some of the most firm and noble expressions of soul have come from the enterprise of gain- ing a heaven and a home, beyond the stormy and untravelled ocean, on which the Christian launches his bark in discovery of a new world. We might add also here, the names of Bruce, of Wallace, of Tell, of Washington. We might remark how they commenced the great enterprises whose triumphant completion has given immortality to their names, under the power of a probability that their efforts would be successful. We miglit % XXVI INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. remark liow many more clouds of doubt, and obscurity clustered '\rouud their enterprises, than have ever darlfened the Christian s path to heaven, and how the grandest displays of patriotism and prowess that the world has known, have grown out of the hazardous design of rescuing Scotland, Switzerland and America from slavery. But we shall only observe that there was jusi enough probability of success in these cases to try these men's souls — just as there is probability enough of heaven and hell, to try the souls of infidels and of Christians, to bring out their true character, and answer the great ends of moral government. Eut here the infidel acts on the very principle Avhich he con- demns. He has not demonstrated that his system is true. From the nature of the system he cannot do it. He acts then, on a p^jbcibility that his system may prove to be true. And were the subject one less serious than eternity, it might be amusing to look at the nature of these probabilitiics. His system assumes it as probable that men will not be rewarded accordmg to their deeds ; that Christianity will turn out to be false ; that it will appear that no such being as Jesus lived, or that it will yet be proved that he was an impostor ; that twelve men were deceived in so plain a case as that v/hich related to the death and resur- rection of an intimate friend; that they conspired to impose on men without reward, contrary to all the acknowledged princi- ples of human action, and when they could reap nothing for their imposture but stripes, contempt, and death ; that religion did not early spread over the Roman empire ; that the facts ol the New Testament are falsehood, and of course that all the cotemporaneous confirmations of these facts collected by the indefatigable Lardner, were false also : that the Jews occupy their place in the nations by chance, and exist in a manner con« irary to that of all, other people, without reason ; that all the pre- dictions of their ("«persion, of the coming of the Messiah, of the overthrow of Bab>lon and Jerusalem and Tyre are conjectures in which men, very barbarous men, conjectured exactly right, while thousands of the predictions of heathen oracles and states- men have failed ; that this singular fact should have happened, that the most barbarous people should give to mankind the only intelligible notices of God, and that a dozen Galilean peas- ants should have devised a scheme of imposture to overthrow all the true, and all the false systems of religion in the world. The infidel moreover deems it probable that there is no God ; or thai death is an eternal sleep ; or that we have no souls ; or that man is but an improved and educated ape, or that all virtue ia Viiin, that all vice stands on the same level, and may be com- mitted at any man's pleasure; or that man's wisdom is to 'dis- regard the future, and live to eat and drink and die ; and all this too, when bis conscience tells him there is a God, when he does act for the future, and expects happiness or wo as the reward oj virtue or vice; when he is palsied, as he iooks at the grave, with fears of what is beyond, and turns pale in solituc'e as he looka .■mward to the bar cf '-od. Now we hazard nothing in saying, INTRODUCTORY ESSA V. ZXVil that the man who is compelled to act as the infidel is, who has all these probabilities to cheer him with the belief that infidelity IS true, and this when it has no system to recommend as truth, and when it stands opposed to all the analogy of things, is engaged in a most singular employment, when he denounces men lor ac ing on the probability that there is a heaven, a God, a Saviour, and a hell. It seems to us that there is nothing more at war with all the noble and pure feelings of the soul, than this attempt to "swing man from his moorings," and send him oa wild and tumultuous seas, with only the infidel's probability that he will ever reach a haven of rest. It is launching into an ocean, without a belief that there is an ocean ; and weathering storms, without professing to believe that there may be storms; and seeking a port of peace, without believing that there is such a port, and acting daily with reference to the future, at the same time that all is pronounced an absurdity. And when we see all this, we ask instinctively, can this be man^ Or is this being right after all, in the belief that he is only a semi-barbarous ape, or a half-reclaimed man of the woods ? But we are gravely told, and wiih an air o' great seeming wisdom, that all presumption and experience are against the miraculous facts in the New Testament. And it was, for some time, deemed proof of singular philosophical sagacity in Hume, that he made the discovery, and put it on record to enlighten mankind. For our part, we think far more attention was bestowed on this sophistry than was required ; and but for the show of confident wisdom with which it was put forth, we think the argument of Campbell might have been spared. It might safely be admitted, v/e suppose, that all presumption and experi- ence, were against miracles before they were wrought, — and thia IS no more than saying that they were not wrought before they were. The plain matter of fact, apart from all laboured mela- jihysics, is, that there is a presumption against most facts until they actually take place, because till that time all experience was against them. Thus there were many presumptions against the existence of such a man as Julius Csesar. No man would have ventured to predict that there would be such a man. There were a thousand probabilites that a man of that name would not live — as many that he would not cross the Rubicon — as many thai he would not enslave his country — and as many that he would not be slain by the hand of such a man as Brutus, — and all this was contrary to experience. So there were innumerable im- probabilities, in regard to the late Emperor of Funce. It was once contemplated, we are told, by a living poet who afterwards wrote his life in a different place, to produce a biography grounded on the z7n;)riAaMf7ic.s of his conduct, and showing how, in fact, all those improbabilities disappeared in the actual result. The world stood in amazement indeed for a few years at the singular grandeur of his movements. Men saw him ride, as vhe spirit of the storm, on the whirlwind of the revolution ; and Uke the sjurit of the tempest, amazed and trembling nai»"' CXVai INTRODUCTORY ESSAY itnew not wher-e his power would strike, or what city or stale if would next sweep into ruin. But the w'>rld has since become familiar with the spectaek,— men have seen that he was naturally engendered by the turbid elements — ihat he was the proper creation of the revolution — and that if he mA not lived some other master spirit like him would have seizf«l the direction of the tempest, and poured its desolations on bleedms: anc trembling Europe. So any great discovery in science or art, is previously improbable and contrary to experience. We have often amused ourselves with contemplating what would have been the effect on the mind of Archimedes, had he been told of the power of one of the most common elements, — an element which men who see boiling Avater must always see — its mighty energy in draining deep pits in the earth, in raising vast rocks of granite, in propelling vessels with a rapidity and beauty of which the ancients knew nothing, and in driving a thousand wheels in the minutest and most deiicate works of art. To the ancient world all this was contrary to experience, and all pre- sumption was against it, — as improbable certainly as that God should have power to raise the dead ; and we doubt whether any evidence of divine revelation would have convinced mankind three thousand years ago, without the actual experiment, of what the school-boy may now know as a matter of sober an daily occurrence, in the affairs of the world. So not long since, the Copernican system of astronomy was so improbable, that for maintaining it, Galileo endured the pains of the dungeon. All presumption and all experience it was thought were against it. Yet, by the discoveries of Newton, it has been made, to the great mass of m.ankind, devoid of all its improbabilities, and children acquiesce in its reasonableness. So the oriental king could not be persuaded that water could ever become hard. It was full of improbabilities, and contrary to all experience. The plain matter of fact, is, that in regard to all events in history, and all discoveries in science, and inventions in the mechanic arts, there may be said to be a presumption against their exist- ence, just as taere was in regard to miracles ; and they are con- trary to all experience, until discovered, just as miracles are until performed. And if this be all that infidelity has to affirm in the boasted argument of Hume, it seems to be ushering into the world, with very unnecessary pomp, a very plain truism, — that a new fact in the world is contrary to all experience, and this is tl)3 same as saying that a thing is contrary to experience until i*. actually IS experienced. We have another remark to make on this subject. It relates to the ease with which the improbabilities of a case may be over- come by testimony. We doubt not that the wonders of the steam power may be now credited by all mankind, and we who have seen its application in so many forms, easily believe tha It may accomplish similar wonders in combmations which the world has not yet witnessed. The incredulity of the age of Galileo on the subject of astronomy, has been overcome among INTRODUCTORY ESS AT. XXll millions who cannot trace the demonstrations of Newton, and wlio perhaps have never heard his name. It is hy testimony only that all this is done; and on the strength of this lesiimony, man svill hazard any worldly interest. He will circumnavigate the globe, not at all deterred by the. fear that he may find in distant seas or lands, different laws from which the Copernican system supposes. We do not see why, in like manner, the improbabili- ties of religion may not vanish before testimony; and its high mysteries in some advanced period of our existence, become as familiar to us, as the common facts which are now the subjects of our daily observation. Nor can we see why the antecedent dilficulties of religion may not as easily be removed by compe- tent proof, as those which appalled the minds of men in the gran* deur of the astronomical system, or the mighty power of the arts. We wish here briefly to notice another difficulty of infidelity. It is, that it is altogether improbable and against the analogy of things, that the Son of God, the equal of the Father of the uni- verse, should stoop to the humiliating scenes of the mediation, — should consent to be cursed, reviled, buffetted, and put to death. We answer, men are very incompetent judges of what a Divine Being may be willing to endure. Who would suppose, before- hand, that God would submit to blasphemy and rebuke ? Yet what being has been ever more calumniated ? Who har been the object of more scorn ? What is the daily offering that goes up from the wide world to the Maker of all worlds? Not a nation that does not daily send up a dense cloud of obscenity and profaneness as their offering. " The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks " Shout to each other ; and the mountain tops " ' From distant mountains catch the flying' curse, " Till nation after nation taught the strain, " ' Earth rolls the awful malediction round,' " Scarce a corner of the street can be turned, but our ears are saluted with the sound of blasphemy — curses poured on Jeho- vah, on his Son, on his Spirit, on his creatures, on the material universe, on his law. To our minds, it is no more strange thai the Son of God should bear reproach, and pain, with patience fci thirty years, than that the God of creation should bear all this from age to age, and as an offering from the wide world. We have only to reflect on what the blasphemer would do if God should be imbodied, and reveal himself to the eye in a form so that human hands might reach him with nails, and spears, and mock dia- dems, to see an illustration of what they actually did do, when hiu Son put himself in the power of blasphemers, and refused not to die. The history of the blasphemer has shown that if he nad the power, long ago the last gem in the Creator's crown would have been plucked away ; his throne would have crum oled beneath him ; his sceptre been wrested from his hand ; and the God of creation, hke his Son in redemption, would have seen suspended on a ' great central" cross ' When we sentinue to urge their arguments with as much self-gratulation, 3s though previous hosts of Arminians had never been prostrated av his mighty ?rm. Could we awaken the unpleasant reminis- t'-ipce in the infidels of our a^e, that there was such a man as CXXii 1NTK3DL'CT0RY ESSAY". Duller, and in the opposers of the doctrines of grace, that thitc is extant in the English language such a book, as "A careful inquiry into the modern prevailing notions on the freedom of the Will," we should do more, perhaps, than by any one means to disturb the equanimity of multitudes, who live only to deal out dogmas as if they had never been confuted; and we might rrjpe to arrest the progress of those destructive errors which are spreading in a thousand channels through the land. The other cause of the deficiency which we notice in the Ana- logy, is, that it was not possible for Butler, with the statements then made of the doctrines of grace, to carry out his argument, and give it its true bearing on those doctrines. The philosophical principles on which Calvinisrn had been defended for a century and a half, were substantially those of the schoolmen. The sys- tem had started out' from darker ages of the world; had been connected with minds of singular strength and power, but also with traits in some degree stern and forbidding. Men had been thrown into desperate mental conflict. They had struggled for mental and civil freedom. They had but little leisure, and les>s inclination, to polish and adorn — to go into an investigation of the true laws of the mind, and the proper explanation of facts in tfte moral world — little inclination to look on what Avas bland and amiable in the government of God. Hence they took the rough-cast system, wielded, in its defence, the ponderous vvea- pons which Augustine and even the Jansenists had furnished them, and prevailed in the conflict ; not, however, by the force of their philosophy, but of those decisive declarations of the word of God, with which unhappily that philosophy had become iden- tified. But when they told of imputing the sin of one man to another, and of holding that other to be personally answerable for it, it is vco wonder that such minds as that of Butler recoiled, foi there is nr ihing like this in nature. When they affirmed, that men have no power to do the will of God, and yet will be damned for not doing what they have no capacity to perform, it is no wonder that he started back, and refused to attempt to rind an analogy; for it is unlike the com.mon sense of men. When they told of a limited atonement — of confining the original applicu* bility of the blood of Christ to the elect alone, there rvas no ana- logy to this, in all the dealings of God towards sinners; in the sun-beam, in the dew, the rain, in running rivulets nx oceans; and here Butler must stop, for the analogy could gt no further upon the then prevalent notions of thrjology. Still, we record with gratitude the achievements of Butler We render our humble tribute of thanksgiving to God, that he raised up a man who has laid the foundation of an argumenj which can be applied to every feature of the Christian scheme We are not Hutchinsonians, but we believe there is a course ol nature most strikingly analogous to the doctrines of revelation We believe that all the objections Avhich have been urged agaiD^st »he peculiar doctrines of the Christian scheme, he with equa^ weiglit against the course of nature itself, and, therefore, reallv INTRODUCTORY ESSAT. XXXixJ constitute no objections at all. This point of tho aigument, Butler has omitted. To a contemplation of the outline of it we now ask the attention of our readers. We are iccustomed, in our ordinary technical theology, to speak mucli o[ the doctrines of Christianity : and men of system- making minds have talked of them so long, that they seem to understand by them, a sort of intangible and abstract array of propositions, remote from real life and from plain matter of fact. The learner in divinity is often told, that there is a species of daring profaneness, in supposing that they are to be shaped to sxisting facts, or to the actual operations of moral agents. All {his is metaphysics, and the moment he dares to ask whether Turretin or Ridgeley had proper conceptions of the laws of the mind, of moral agency, or of facts in the universe, that moment the shades of all antiquity are summoned to come around the adventurous theologian, and charge him with a guilty departure from dogmas long held in the church. Now w^e confess we have imbibed somewhat different notions of the doctrines of the Bible. We have been accustomed to regard the word as denoting only an authoritative teaching, {i^i6a^^, Matt. vii. 28: comp. v. 19; xxii. 33; 2 Tim. iv. 2, 9,") of Avhat actualhj exists in the universe. We consider the whole system oi doctrines as simply a statement of facts. The doctrine of the Trinity, for example, is a statement of a fact respecting the mode of God's existence. The fact is beyond any investigation of our own minds, and we receive the statement as it is. The doctrine of the mediation is a statement of facts, respecting what Christ did, and taught, and suffered, as given by himself and his fol- lowers. So of depravity, so of election or predestination, so of perseverance, so of future happiness and wo. What, then, are the doctrines of Christianity ? Simply statements of what has ^een, of what is, and what ivill be, in the government of God. In this, every thing is as far as possible from abstraction. There is as little abstraction, (and why may we not add as little sacred- npss?) in these facts, — we mean sacredness to prevent inquiry into their true nature — as there is in the science of geology, the growth of a vegetable, or the operations of the human intellect. We may add, that in no way has systematic theology rendered more essential disservice to mankind, than in drawing out the life-blood from these great facts — unstnnging the nerves, stiffen* | ing the muscles, and giving the fixedness of death to them, as the anatomist cuts up the human frame, removes all the ele- ments of life, distends the arteries and veins with wax, and then places it in his room of preparations, as cold and repulsive as are some systems of technical divinity. In the doctrines of Christianity, as given us in the Bible, we find nothing of this abstract and unreal character. The whole tenor of the Scriptures prepares us to demand, that theology be invariably conformed to the laws of the mind, and the actual economy of the moral and material universe. The changes which hive taken place in orthodox systems of divini 2* XXXIV INTRODUCTORY ESSAl. era of llie reformation, have been chiefly owing to the changes •n the system of mental and moral science. Whenever that system shall be fully understood, and established on the immo- vable foundation of truth, all who love the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity, will be of one mind in their mode of slating the doc- trines of the gospel, as they already are in their spiritual feel* ings. Till then, all that can be done by the friends of truth will be to show, that the objections which are urged against the doc- trines of grace, can be urged with equal power, against all the facts in God's moral government. From the beginning, formidable objections have been brought against what are called the Doctrines of Grace, or the Evangeli- cal System, or Calvinism. These objections have seldom, if ever, been drawn from the Bible. Their strength has consisted in the alleged fact, that these doctrines are in opposition to the established principles, by which God governs the world. We concede, that there is just enough of apparent irregularity in those principles, to make these objections plausible with the great mass of men, just as there was enough of irregularity and improbability in the Copernican system of astronomy, to make it for a long time liable to many and plausible objections. Cer- tain appearances strongly favoured the old doctrine, that the sun, moon, and stars travelled, in marshalled hosts, around our insig- nificant orb, just as, in the Arminian system, certain appear- ances may seem to mdicate that man is the centre of the system, and that God, and all the hosts of heaven, live and act chiefly to minister to his comfort. But it is noio clear, that all the proper facts in astronomy go to prove, that the earth is a small part of the plan, and to confirm the system of Copernicus. So we aflTirm that the Calvinistic scheme — despite all Arminian appearances, is the plan on which this world is actually governed; and that all the objectioas that have been urged against it are urged against facts that are fixed in the very nature of things. And we affirm that a mind which could take in all these facts, could make up the Calvinistic scheme without the aid of revelation, from the actual course of events; just as in the ruins of an ancient city the skilful architect can discern in the broken frag- ments, pillars of just dimensions, arches of proper proportions, and the remains of edifices of symmetry and grandeur. In entering on this subject, however, we cannot but remark, that the Evangelical Scheme is often held answerable for that which it did not originate. We mean, that when opposera aj)proach the Christian system, they almost universally hold it responsible for the fall, as well as the recovery, of man. They are not willing to consider, that it i§ a scheme proposed to remedy an existing state of evil. Christianity did not plunge men int« sin. It is the system by which men are to be -ecovered from wo — wo which would have existed to quite as great an extent, certainly, if the conception of the evangelical system had nevei entered the divine mind. The theoiy and practice of medicine is not to be held answerable for the fact tliat man is subject to INTUODUCTORT ESSAY. XXX^ iisease and death. It finds men thus subj^^ot; and all lliat can be justly required of the art, is that to which it makes preten- sions, viz. that it can do so?nethi7ig towards removing or allevia- ting human suflering. So in Christiiinily. That men are ii? fact in the midst of sin, sulTering, and death, is undeniable. Tlie doctrine is common to the deist, the atheist, and the Christian. For that Christianity is not answerable. It proposes a remedy, and that remedy is properly the Christian system. Still we shall not, in our present discussion, avail ourselves of this very obvious remark; but shall proceed to notice the objections to tnt.- entire series of revealed facts, as if they constituted one sysietr. : — and the rather as the evangelical system proposes a statement respecting tbe exact extent of the evil, which has an imporiaui bearing on the features of the remedy proposed. 1. The first fact, then, presented for our examination is fhe fall of man. The Scriptures aflirm that a solitary act — an act .n itself exceedingly unimportant — was the beginning of tl.at ong train of sin and wretchedness, which has passed upon our world. Now, we acknowledge that to all the miystery and ft-ar- fulness of this fact our bosoms beat with a full response to luat of tbal the guilty should suffer. God is 50 opposed to him that lie will inflict suffering on him, unless by an atonement it is i-rtvented. By tlie intervention of the atonement, therefore, tlie scriptures affirm that such sufferings shall be averted. The man shall be saved from the impending calamity. Sufficient for all the pur- poses of justice, and of just government, has fallen on the sub- stitute, and the sinner may be pardoned and reconciled to God. NoAv, we affirm, that in every instance of the substituted suffer ings, or self-denial of the parent, the patriot, or the benefactor, there occurs a state of things so analogous to this, as to show that it is in strict accordance with the just government of God, and to remove all the objections to the peculiarity of the atone- ment. Over a helpless babe — ushered into the world, naked feeble, speechless, there impends hunger, cold, sickness, sudden death— a mother's watchfulness averts these evils. Over a nation impend revolutions, sword, famine, and the pestilence. The blood of the patriot averts these, and the nation smiles in peace. Look at a particular instance. Xerxes poured his mil lions on the shores of Greece. The vast host darkened all the plains, and stretched towards the capitol. In the train there followed weeping, blood, conflagration, and the loss of liberty. Leonidas almost alone, stood in his path. He fought. Who ran calculate the effects of the valour and blood of that single man and his compatriots in averting calamities from Greece, and from other nations struggling in the cause of freedom^ Who can tell how much of rapine, of cruelty, and of groan« and tears it turned away from that nation ? * Now we by no means affirm that this is all that is meant by an atonement, as revealed by Christianity. We affirm only, that there is a sufficient similarity in the two cases, to remove the points of objection to an atonement, made by the infidel, — to show that reconciliation by the sufferings of another, or a putting away evils by the intervention of a mediator, is not a violation of the analogies of the natural and moral world. Indeed we should have thought it an argument for the rejection of a sys- tem, if it had not contemplated the removal of evils by the toils and pains of substitution. We maintain that the system of the Unitarians which denies all such substitution, is a violation of all the modes in which God has yet dispensed his blessings to men In the nature of the case, there is all the antecedent pre- sumption there could be, that, if God intended to confer saving blessings on mankind, it would be, by the interposition of the toils, groans, and blood, of a common mediating friend. The wfli known case of the king of the Locrians, is only an instai.ee of the way in which reconciliation is to be brought about among men- He made a law that the adulterer should be punished with the loss of his eyes. His son was the first offendei. The feelings of the father and the justice of the kinf^ conflicted t'li raTRODUCTORY ESSAY. Recoricllialhn was produced by sufTering the loss of one eye himself, and inflicting the remainder of the penalty on his son But i-iill, there are two points in the atonement so \\t?]j sub- stantiaied, and yet apparently contradictory, that it becomes nn 'nteresting inquiry, whether boih positions can find an analogy in the course of events. The first is, that the atonement was origin^ illy applicable to all men — that it was not limited by its nature to any class of men, or any particular individuals — that it was an ofierin;' made for the race,* and is, when made, m the widest and fullest sense, the property of man ; and the second is, that \i is actually Applied to only a portion of the race, and that it was the purpose of God that it should be so applied.! Now in regard to the first aspect of the atonement suggested, we can no more doubt that it had this original universal appli- cability, than we can any of the plainest propositions of the Bible. If this is not clear, nothing can be clear in the use of the Greek and English tongues — and we discern in this, we think, a strict accordance with the ordinary provisions which God h:is made for man. We \oo\i. at any of his gifts — from the smallest that makes life comfortable, to the richest in redemption, and we shall not find one, that in itsnaiure, is limited in its applicability to any class of individuals. The sun on which we look shet'.^ his rays on all — on all alike; the air we breathe has an original adaptation to all who may inhale it, and is ample for the want of any number of millions. From the light of the feeblest star, to full-orbed day ; from the sn)sillest dew drop, to the mountain torrent ; from the blushing violet, to the far scented magnolia ; there is an original applicability of the gifts of providence to all tlie race : they are fitted to man as man, and the grandeur of God'sf beneficence appears in spreading the earth with fruits and flowers, making it one wide garden, in place of the straitened paradise that was lost. We might defy the most acute defender of the doctrine of limited atonement, to produce an instance in the provisions of God, where there was a designed limitation in the nature of the thing. We shall be slow to believe that God has not a uniform plan in his mode of governing men. But still it" will be asked, what is the use of a universal atone- ment, if it is not actually applied to all? Does God work in vain ? Or would lie make a provision in the dying groans of his Son, that was to be useless to the universe ? We might say here, that in our view, there is no waste of this provision,— that the sufferings which were requisite for the race, were only those which were demanded in behalf of a single individual ; a^d that we are ignorant of the way of applyiiig guages and decimal admeasurements and pecuniary computatioris to a grand moral transaction. But we reply, that it is according to God's way of doing thiis^s, thai many of his piovisions should appear to its to be vain. We see in this, the hand of the same God *2Cor. V. 14 15. I .Toinii. 2. Heb. ii. 9. John lii. 16,17; vi. 51. 2Pcl.ii. i i Isa. llii. 10. .Tolui tvii. 2. EpH. i. 3— Jl. Kom. viii. 29,30; iv 15—24. John VI. 3~ "' '^ Tun. i. ix. INTRODrCTORY ESSAY. xIlO that pours the rays of noon-day on barren sands, and genial showers on desert rocks, where no man is — to our eye, lliough not to his, in vain. Who knows not that the sun siieds his daily beams on halt' the globe covered with trackless waters; and around thousands of dungeons where groans in darkness the prisoner ? But some Solon or Cadmus may yet cross these oceans, to bear law and letters to the barbari-in ; some Howard CO pity and relieve the sufferer; some Xavier or Vanderkenip to tell benighted men of the dying and risen Son of God. So we say of the atonement. It is not useless. Other ages shall open their eyes upon this sun of righteousness; shall wash in ihis open fountain ; shall pluck the fruit from this tree of life; shall apply for healing to the balm of Gilead and find a physician there. But still it was the purpose — the decree of God, that this atone- ment should be actually applied to but a part — we believe ulti- mately a large part of the human family. By this we mean, that it is in fact so applied, and that this fact is the expression of tne purpose or decree in God. So it is with all the objects we have mentioned. Food is not given to all. Health is not the . inheritance of all. Liberty, peace, and wealth, are diffused un- equally among men. We interpret the decrees of God, so far as we can do it, by facts ; and we say that the actual result^ by wnatever means brought about, is the expression of the design o{ God. Nor can any man doubt, that the dissemination of these blessings is to be traced to the ordering of God. Is it owmg to any act of man, that the bark of Peru was so long unknown, or that the silver of Potosi slept for ages unseen by any^ human eye ? Is there not evidence, that it v/as according to fhe good pleasure of the Giver, that the favour should not be bellowed on men till Columbus crossed the main, and laid open the treasures and the materia medica of the Avest, to an avaricious and an afflicted world ? We are here struck with another im- porthnt analogy in the manner in which God's plans are de- veloped. Who would have imagined that so important a matter as the discovery of a new world, should have depended on the false reasonings and f^incy of an obscure Genoese ? Who would have thought that all the wealth of Potosi, should have depended for its discovery, on so unimportant a circumstance, as an Indian's pulling up a shrub by accident in hunting a deer ? So in the redemption of man, — in the applicability of the atone° went. Who is ignorant that the reformation originated in the private thoughts (»f an obscure man in a monastery. A Latin Bible fallen on as accidentally, and a treasure as much unknown, as Ilualpi's discovery of the mines of Potosi, led the way to the most glorious series of events since the days of the apostles. But it is still said, that it is unreasonable for men to sulfer in consequence of not being put in possession of the universal atonement; and that Christianity affirms there is no hope of salvation but in the Son of God.* So it does. But the afiirma- *" not thu' men are guilty for not being acquainted with thai * Acis iv. 12. Xliv INTROUUCTORY ESSAY scheme, bnl t|)at they lie under the curses )f the antecedent statt before mentioned, from wliich Christianity came to deliver. The Hindoo suffers and dies under the rage of a burning fever. The fault is not, that he is ignorant of the virtues of quinine, not IS he punished for this ignorance of its healing qualities ; but he IS lying under the operation of the previous slate of things, from which medicine contemplates his rescue. Half the world are shut out from benefits, which they might enjoy by being made acquainted with the provisions for their help. Their sufferings are not s. punishment for this want of knowledge. They are the operation of the system from which they might be delivered by the provisions made for their welfare. How much suffering might have been saved, had Jenner lived a century earlier. Is it contrary then to the analogy of nature, to suppose that men may suffer in consequence of the want of the gospel, and even that in eternity they may continue under the operation of that previous state of things, to which the gospel has never been applied to relieve them ? He who opposes Christianity because if implies that man may suffer if its healing balm is not applied, Knows not what he says, nor whereof he affirms. He is scoff- ing at the analogy of the world, and calling in question the wis- do(n of all the provisions of God to aid suffering man. 3. On the ground of man's depravity, and of the necessity of an atonement for sin, the gospel declares that without a change of heart and life, none can be saved.* It affirms that contrition for pasi sins, and confidence in the Son of God, are indispensable for admission to heaven. Now we scarce know of any point on which men so reluctate as they do here. That so sudden, tho- rough, and permanent a revolution should be demanded, that is should be founded on things so unmeaning as repentance and faifh, that all men can enjoy or suffer for ever should result from a change like this, they deein a violation of every principle of justice. And yet, perhaps, there is no doctrine of revelation which is more strongly fiivoured by the analogy of nature. Can any one doubt that men often experience a sudden and most important revolution of feeling and purpose ? We refer not here to a change in religion, but in regard to the principles and tiie actions of common life? Who is ignorant that from infancy to old age, the mind passes through many revolutions — that as we leave the confines of one condition of our being, and advance to another, a change, an entire change, become* indispensal\A , or vhe whole possibility of benefitting ourselves by the new con- dition is lost. He who carries with him into youth the playful- ness and follies of childhood, who spends that season of his life in building houses with cards, or in trundling a hoop, is charac- terized by weakness, and must lose all the benefits appropriate to that new period of existence. He who goes into middle life with a "bosom that carries anger as the (lint bears fire" — who has not suffered his passions to cool, an I his mental frame to become fixed in the compactness of mature and vigorous lite * John iii. 3. 5. 36. Marl. xvi. 10. INTRO )UCTORT ESSAY. X.V gives a pledge that the bar, the bench, or the desk — the counting room, the office, or the plough, have little demand for his ser- vices, and that his hopes will be for ever blasted. The truth is, that at the beginning of each of these periods, there was a change demanded — that on that change depended all that fol- lowed in the n ?xt succeeding, perhaps in every succeeding period and that, when the change does not exist, the period is charac- terized by folly, indolence, ignominy, or vice. The same remark might be extended to old age, and to all the new circumstances in which men may by placed. We ask, then, why some revolu- tions similar in results- -we mean not in nature — should not take place in reference to the passage from time to eternity? But our argument is designed to bear on the great moral change called regeneration. iNow no fact, we think, is more common, than that men often undergo a complete transformation in their moral character. It would be difficult to meet, in the most casual and transitory manner, with any individual, who could not remark that his own life had been the subject of many similar revolutions, and that each change fixed the character of the subsequent period of his existence. At one period he was virtuous. Then temptation crossed his path — and the descrip- tion which we would have given of him yesterday, would by no means suit him to-day. Or at one time, he was profligate, pro- fane, unprincipled. By some process, of which he could perhaps scarce give an account, he became a different man. It might have been gradual — the result of long thought, — of many reso- lutions, made and broken, — of many appeals, of much weeping, and of many efforts to break away from his companions. Now, what it is important for us to remark is, that this change has given birth to a new course of life, has initiated him into a new companionship, and has itself fixed all the joys or sorrows of the coming period Such revolutions in character seem like the journeyings of the Arabian, wandermg, he knows scarcely whi- fher, without compass, comfort, or food, till in his progress he comes to a few spreading oases in the desert. K'is reaching this paradise in the wide waste of sand, decides of course the nature of his enjoyments till he has crossed it, and secures a release from the perils of the burning desert. In hyman life, we have often marked an ascent to some such spot of living green : we have seen the profligate youth leaving the scene of dissipation, and treading with a light'heart and quick step the path of virtue, beside cool living streams and beneath refreshing bowers. Christianity affirms that a similar change is indispensable before man can tread the broad and peaceful plains of the skies. And it affirms tJiat such a change will fix the condition of all that new state of beings — or, in other words, will secure an eternal abode beneath the tree of life, and fast by the river of God. We wait to learn that, in this, religion has made any strange or unrea- lo?iable demand. It is a further difficulty in Christianity, that it should make met amazing bliss or v.-o dependeni on things of apparently so ihn INTRODUCTORY 1,85 AY. Kttle consequence as repentance and fa jth. We shall not here attempt to show the philosophy of this, or even to set up a /indi cation. We affirm only that man's whole condition in this life often depends on changes as minute, apparently as unphiloso- pliical, and as unimportant. What is seemingly of less conse- quence in our view, when we tread the vale of years, than the change from infancy to childhood — and again to boyhood — and then even to manhood — a change from one uniniportant object to another? What is often apparently a matter of less magnitude than for a young man to withdraw from some haunt of pleasure — a thing requiring but little resolution, hut it may be stretching in its results to all his coming life ? A change of an opinion, or a habit, or a companion, may be often a most unimportant circumstance; and yet it may determine one's character for the entire life. It is recorded of Paley, one of the acutest and most powerful men of the Christian church, that he was, when in college, idle, and a spendthrift. One morning a rich and dissi- pated fellow student came into his room with this singular reproof. " Paley, I have been thinking what a fool you are. 2 have the means of dissipation, and can afford to be idle. You are poor and cannot afford it. /should make nothing if I were to apply myself. You are capable of rising to eminence, — and, pressed with this truth, I have been kept awake during the whole night, and have now come solemnly to admonish you." To this singular adtnonition, and to the change consequent upon it Paley owes his eminence, and the church some of the ablest defences of the truth of religion. Now wlio, beforehand, would have thought of suspending the labours of such a man, perhaps nis eternal destiny, and so many of the proofs of Christianity, on a change wrought in a manner so singular and surprising. If as no one can deny, man's doom in this life may depend on revolutions of such a nature, we are ignorant of any reason why the doom of another state may not be nxed by a similar law. Perhaps the doctrine which has appeared to most infidels entirely unmeanmg and arbitrary, is that which demands faith as the condition of salvation. Repentance is a doctrine of more ohvious fitness. But the demand of faith seems to be an arbi- trary and unmeaning appointment. And yei we think it indu- bitable, that on man's belief depends his whole conduct and des- tiny in this life. What enterprise would have beer more unwise than that of Columbus, if he had not had a belief ihnt by stretching along to the west, he might reach the Indies? What more foolish than the conduct of Tell, and Wallace, and Wash- ington, if not sustained by a persuasion that their country mig.ht be free ? What more mad than the toils of the young man bend- mg Ills powers to the acquisition of learning, if he were not sus- Cained hy faith in some yet unpossessed honour or emolument? Wliat more frantic than for the merchant to commi his treasurer 10 the deep, if he did not believe that prosperous gales would re- waft the vessel, laden with riches, into port? We might also say that/ai7/j. or confidence in others is demanded in every enter NTRODUCTORY ESSAY. xlvU r)iU >. tliat nian'ever undertook, and is the grand f .inciple which conducts It to a liappy result. We need only ask what would be the condition of a child, without faith or confidence in a parent; of a pupil, without reliance on the abilities of his teacher ; of a subject, distrusting the sovereign ; of a soldier, doubting the skill or prowess of his commander; of a tradesman, with no reliance on those whom he employs? What would be the condition of commercial transactions, if there were no established confidence between men of different nations ? What the condition of arts, and of arms, if this great pervading principle were at once cut off? In all these instances, moreover, this principle of faith is the indejc and measu7'e of the aid to be expected from others. Is It any new principle that the child which has no confidence in a father, usually fails of his favour; or that the pupil should fail uf benefit, if he doubts the qualifications of his teacher ? And would any single desolating blow so cripple all enterprises, and carry such ruin into the political, the military, and the commer- cial world, as to destroy the faith which one man reposes in another? Is it then a strange and unknovvn doctrine, when reli- gion says that the most important benefits are suspende'I on faitli? Is it any thing more than one instance of a general principle, which confers peace c^d wealth on children ; learr^ir^g on the scholar; success on the tradesman; liberty on tho^o who struggle for it ; and even laurels and crowns on those whr- naril in the race for honour and in the conflicts of war. We t^j not deem it strange, therefore, that God should have incorpr rated faith into a scheme of religion ; and proclaimed from pole to pole that he who has no confidence in counsellors and guidcir;, shall be witbout the benefit of counsel and guidance; and that he who has no confidence in the Son of God, shall be dissociat<.;d from all the benefits of his atonement. Let it be remembered, also, that the faith which is demanded in the business of life, is very often reposed in some persons whom we have never seen. How few subjects of any empire have ever seen the monarch by whom they are governed ? Nay, perhaps the man who holds our destiny in his hand may be on tlie other side of the globe. Under his charge may be the pro- perty which we embarked on the bosom of the deep; or, it may be, the son whom we have committed to him for instruction. Mountains may rise, or oceans roll their billows for ever to separate us, but the bonds of faith may be unsevered by the coldest snows, unscathed by the most burning sun, and unbroken ftmid all the rude heavings of ocean, and the shocks of nations. We ask, why may not a similar band stretch toward heaven, and oe fixed to the throne of the Eternal King ? Is it more absurd that /should place my cx.nfidence in the unseen monarch of the skies whom I have not seen, than that my neighbour shouW place reliance on the king of the celestial empire, or of Britain, or of Hawaii, alike unseen by him ? But there is an amazing stupidity among men on the subject of religion, and it cannot be, we are told, that God should make ilviii INTRODUCTORY ESSAT. eternal life dependent on matters in which meu feel so litt'i; interest. We might reply to this, that it is not the fault of God that men are so indifferent. He has done enough to arouse them. If the thunders of his law, the revelation of his love in redemp- lion, and the announcement that there is a heaven and a hell, nre not adequate to arouse the faculties of man, we know nof Ah'dt further could be demanded. God has no other system of Avrath to bear on human spirits ; and heaven and hell imbosom no other topics of appeal. But we reply further, that no fact is mere familiar to us than that all men's interests in life suffer for want of sufficient solicitude concerning them. By mere heed- lessness, a man may stumble down a precipice, — nor will the severity of the fall be mitigated by any plea that he was thought- less of his danger. Thousands of estates have been wrecked by want of timely attention. Character is often ruined, by want of proper solicitude in selecting companions. Nay, the king of terrors comes into our dwellings, perfectly unmoved by any inquiry whether we were awaiting his approach or not; and stpnds over our beds, and wields his dart, and chills our life- blood, with as much coolness and certainty as if we were pay- ing the closest attention to the evidences of his approach. And why should we expect that mere indifference, or want of anxiety, should avert the consequences of crime in the eternal world ? It is also, we think, an undoubted doctrine of the Christian scheme, that the great change required in man is the work of God.* And it is no small difficulty with the infidel, that so important results are dependent on a change which owes its existence to the will of a distant being. Yet we cannot be insen- sible to the fact that all our mercies hang on the will of this great, invisible God. When we say that the salubrity of the air, the wholesomeness of water, the nutrition of plants, and the heal- ing power of medicine, all owe their efficacy to his will, we are stating a fact which physiology is at last coming to see and acknowledge. At all events, man does not feel himself strait- ened in obligation or in effort by the fact that the success of his exertions depends on causes unseen and unknown? All but atheists acknowledge that health flows through the frame of man because God is its giver. Infancy puts on strength and walks ; childhood advances to youth ; man rises from a bed of sickness ; or fractured limbs again become compact, because God sits in the heavens, and sends down his influence to rear, to strengthen, and to heal. Yet, does any one hesitate to put forth his energy for wealth, or his kindness to his children ; to take medicine, or to set a bone, because all these will be inefficacious -gvithout the blessing of God? But in all this He is as invisible, and, for aught that Christianity teaches to the contrary, as truly efficient, as in the work of saving men. And against all exer lion in these matters, lie the same objections that are urged a^^ainst effects in religion. * John i. 13; in. 5. 8 ; Rom. ix. 16, 18 ; Eph. ii. 1 ; 1 Peter i. 3 ; i John r 1 ; Ez-b. xi. 19; John vi. 44, 45. INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. XllX Nor do w« Jjein the doctnine that man may be changed sud« donly, and by an influence orie expressed by the word purpose or decree^ is as absurd as tt? 5* liv INTRODUCTORY KSSAT deny that the embryo is formed with reference to thfi luture man, or the chyle to future blood, muscles, aid bones. Who in look- ing ipon a complicated piece of machinery would suppose thai a plan was in operation tending to the manufacture of cloth, o\ the propelling of vessels, or the minuter works of art? Wha strikes the eye, is a collection of wheels moving without appa- rent order. Two wheels shall be beside each other moving in contrary directions ; yet all shall ultimately combine to the pro- duction of the contemplated result. Thus move the events of the world ; and so apparently irregular and unharmonious, but ultimately fixed and grand are the ways of God. As in a rapid, swollen stream, while the current rolls onward, here and there may be observed in the heaving waters, a small portion that seems to be setting in a contrary direction — an eddy that revolves near the shore, or that fills the vacancy made by some projecting tree or neck of land, yet all setting towards the ocean : S3 roR on the great events in God's moral and material universe — setting onwards towards eternity in furtherance of a plan awful, grand, benevolent. We had intended to have noticed more fully the grand, peculiai doctrme of the gospel — the Trinity. But we have room only to say, that if, in the formation of man — in the structure of his mental and corporeal powers, and in their junction — if, in a being so con- stantly before our eyes, subjected, without material change, from age to age, to observation, — to the penetration of the most keen- sighted physiologists ; open to every analysis which the metaphy- sician or the anatomist may choose to make;. If, ip the organ- ization of such a being, there are mysteries which elude every eye, and mock every attempt at reconciliation, we do not think that religion is dealing out absurdities, when it tells of analogous depths in the unseen, inapproachable, and infinite God. Let the union of the soul and body be explained — the junction of a sub- stance, ponderable, mortal, inactive, corruptible, and thought- less, with o«e where there is nothing hut thought — an invisi- ble, imponderable, intelligible, incorruptible, and unmeasurable substance, having relation neither to sight, nor hearing, nor feeling, nor that we know of to place, — and yet taking hold by some invisible fixtures to the heavy organization, and direct- ing all its movements, and receiving its own emotions from the variations of the outward tenement : let all this be explained, and we think we shall be ready to advance wi'h the explanation to any difficulty of structure in the divine mind. Nay, further, when we look at the animal frame itself, we are met with diffi- culties of a kindred nature, which set all our faculties at defiance. There is a system of bones — complete in itself — an entire anato- mical figure, which may be taken out and completed by itself— there is a system of arteries complete, and as capable of distinct corr>3mplation ; — there is the counterpart, an entire structure oi arteries reversed, comprising the venous system ; there is an almost independant organization of nerves, which, but for theil frail texture, could be taken out, looked at also apart; and there INTRODUCTORY ESbAY. IV «, an absolute set of muscles which could be set up by tlu msclvfis, uni separately surveyed, — and yet these different systems are driven together into the most compr^ct form ; made to unite ris friendly brethren, and cemented and bound, so as to make up the frame-work of man. Now, we affirm, that if these different in- dependent systems are thus made to dwell in a single frame ; — if we have no conception of a rnan without all this complication, and scarcely icith it, that a revelation could be scarcely credible, unless there were some analogous difficulties ir. the being of a God. In his mysteries, mar* is the image of God, not less than in his dominion, and in the original moral image which he bore. A large field is still open on which we can make but a passing remark — we mean the analogy of the laws of Christianity to those suggested by the constitution and course of nature. If our re marks have been correct, then it is fair to expect that religion would reveal such a set of laws as shquld be in accordance with the course of nature — that is, such as the actual order of events should show to be conducive to the true interest and welfare of man. We think it could be shown that the actual process of things, has conducted mankind, after the shedding of much blood, and after many toils of statesmen and sages, to just the set of rulgs which are found for human conduct in the Old and New Testaments. And it would be no uninteresting speculation to inquire into the changes in opinions and laws suggested by the history of events among nations — to see how one set of enact- ments struck out by the toils of some philosopher, and applied by some moralist or statesman, were persevered in until set aside by some opposing event in the government of God, and exchanged for a better system, for one more in accordance with the course of nature — until the revolutions of centuries, have brought men to the very laws of the scriptures, and the profoundest wisdom tias been ascertained to be, to sit at the feet of Jesus of Nazareth and receive the law from his lips. We might remark on the law of theft in LacedEemon; on the views in relation to rapine and war; on the seclusion from the world which guided the Essene of Judea, and the monk of the early and middle ages; on the indulgence of passion, recommended by the Epicureans ; on the annihilation of sensioiiity, the secret of happiness, among the Stoics ; on the law of universal selfishness, the panacea of all numan ills recommended by infidelity ; and on the laws of honour that have guided so many men to fields of disgrace and bloodj and filled so many dwellings with weeping. In all the different codes, we think we could show that the course, of nature' has ultimately driven men ^rom one set of laws to ancther, from one experiment to another, until every scheme terminated in its abandonment, or in shaping itself to the peculiar laws of the Bible. But on this point, which is capable of very ample illus- tration, we can do no more than simplv point out the principle, in the words of a distinguished writer of our own country.* We make one exlract ^rom a sermon of high originality of thought, * President Waylaud. In iNTRODUCTonr essay. power of argument, and beauty of diction, entitled " The certair triumph of the Redeemer." '• The laws of matter are few and comparatively simple, but those relations are multiplied even to infinity. The law of gra- vitation may be easily explained to an ordinary man, or even to an intelligent child. But who can trace one half of its relations to things solid and fluid, things animate and inanimate, the very form of society itself, to this system, other systems, in fine, to the mighty masses of the material universe ? The mind delights to carry out such a principle to its ramified illustrations, and hence it cherishes as its peculiar treasure, a Knowledge of the principles themselves. Thus was it that the discovery of such a law gave the name of Newton to immortality, reduced to har- mony the once apparently discordant movements of our planetary system, taught us to predict the events of coming ages, and to explain what was before hidden from the foundation of the world. " Now he who will take the trouble to examine, will perceive in the Gospel of Jesus Christ, a system of ultimate truths in morals in a very striking manner analogous to these elementary laws in physics. In themselves they are few, simple, and easily understood. Their relations, however, as in the othei case, are infinite. The moral principle by which you can easily teach your child to regulate her conduct in the nursery, will fur- nish matter for the contemplation of statesmen and sages. It is the only principle on which the decisions of cabinets and courts can be founded, and is, of itself, sufficient to guide the diplomatist through all the mazes of the most intricate negocia- lion. Let any one who pleases make the experiment for him- self. Let him take one of the rules of human conduct which the gospel prescribes, and, having obtained a clear conception of it, just as it is revealed, let him carry it out in its unshrinking application to the doings and dealings of men. At first, if he be not accustomed to generalizations of this sort, he will find much that will stagger him, and perhaps he will be led hastily to decide that the ethics of the Bible were never intended for prac- tice. But let him look a little longer, and meditate a little more intensely, and expand his views a little more widely, or become, either by experience or by years, a little older, and he will more and more wonder at the profoundness of wisdom, and the universality of application of the principles of the gospel. With the most expanded views of society, he can go nowhere where the Bible has not been before him. With the most penetrating sagacity he can make no discovery which the Bible has not long ago pro- mulgated. He will find neither application which the Bible ditic tell us, has not science struck out principle after principle, that could long since have been organized into a sys- tem which should accord with the constitution and course of nature ? To our minds, the greatest of all miracles would be, that unaided and uninspired fishermen should have projected such a scheme of Christianity. Revealed religion, then, is in accordance with the course of nature. To reason against or reject it, on the principles com- monly adopted by infidels, is to call in question the whole system of things around us. Nor will it answer any valuable purpose to laugh or mock at it. " There is argument neither in drollery nor in jibe." If, in spite of this striking accordance with the course of nature, it can be proved false, let the evidence be fairly •brought forward. Let its miracles be set aside. Let its pro- phecies be shown not to have been uttered. And then let it be shown hoio it is that such a system has originated from such a source ; a system which has bowed the intellects of such men as Bacon and Locke and Boyle and Hale and Boerhaave, ana Newton and Edwards and Dwight. But if the demonstration cannot be made out, — if a single doubt remains, it will not do to deride this religion. It will no more do to meet the announce- ment of hell with a jeer, than to stand and mock at convulsions, fevers, and groans ; — nor should men laugh at the judgment, any more than at the still tread of the pestilence, or the heavings of the earthquake ; — nor will it be at all more the dictate of wis- dom to contemn th ? provisions of redemption than to mock the pitying eye of a father, or to meet with contempt the pensive sigh of a mother over our sufferings, or to jeer at the physician whr comes reverently, if it may be, to put back from us the ^eayj -pressing hand of God. SAMUEL HALIFAX, D.D., .-.ATE LORD BISHOP OF GLOUCESTER. [The following prefatory analysis of Butler's Moral and Religitna Systems, and of his method of applying reasonings drawn from Analogy CO the Subject ot" Natural and Keveabd Religion, deserves the mariced lUentian of the student.] In some editions, this preface is preceded by a few pages, designed to shield Bishop Butler's characler again.st the charge of superstition ; placing too much stress on rites and ceremonies in religion : a tendency to substitute penancea and forms in the room of Christianity. We have omitted these pages as they are in no way connected with this work, and add nothing to its interest or value. There seems, how, ever, to have been no just grounds for such a calumny. Bishop Butler, like many good men of the present age, was deeply atTected by the growing indifference of the mass of the people to religious duties and observances; and in his pri- mary charge to the Clergy of his Diocese in 1751, he boldly asserted the usefulness of forms and rites addressed to the senses as aids to devotion and piety : a charge, which, at the time, gave very general offence to the Church, and which, taken in connection with some other facts in the history of this good man's life, formed the stuff, out of which the alle- gations, we have referred to, were manufactured several years after his death. It is painful to think so little of the moral and religious workings of the mind of this great man is known. We would gladly know something definitely of his intellectual and spiritual life, during the twenty years of study and pre- ^)aration devoted to the composition of The Analogy ; from ihe first rude conception of the work, until it came forth from nis hands, like the statue from the mallet and chisel of the ■culptor finished, ad ungcm. Every sentence, it is said, hu 4 PRElTAOi!.. been fashioned and moulded into the present form by repeated re-writing and condensation. And we can easily believe it, lor the words are laid together in many sentences so closely and skilfully, that one more, or one less, would destroy th« unity and meaning of the whole. The literary reputation of Bishop Butler, however, h in truth the least of his excellencies. He was more thai a good writer : he was a good man ; and what is an additicn evei) 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 snort 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 irom the three first, and from the preface to that volume. " There is," as our author with singular sagacity has ob- served, " a much more exact correspondence between the natural and moral world, than we are apt to take notice of."f The inward frame of man answers to his outward condition ; the several propensities, passions, and affections, implanted in our hearts by the Author of nature, are in a particular manner adapted to the circumstances of life in which he hath placed us. This general observation, properly pursued, leads to several important conclusions. The original inter- nal constitution of man, compared with his external condi- tion, enables us to discern what course of action and be- havior that constitution leads to^ what is our duty respect- ing that condition, and furnishes us besides with the most powerful arguments to the practice of it. What the inward frame and constitution of man is, is a question of fact ; to be determined, as otl.er facts are, from Hxperience, from our internal feelin^js and external setiaes ♦ I Cor. xii. 8. t »«™' ^ BY THE EDITOR. 8 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 those aa they are, and viewing the connexion between them, from that connexion to discover, if we can, what course of action vs fi. ted to tliat nature and those circumstances. From con- templating the bodily senses, and the organs or instrunicnts adapted to them, we learn that the eye was given to see with, the ear to hear with. In like mannci, from consider- ing yar inward perceptions and the final causes of then:, 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 vio- lence offered to ourselves. If, continuing our inquiries in this way, it should at length appear, that the nature, the whole nature of man leads him to, and is fitted for, that oar- ticular course of behaviour which we generally distinguish- ed by the name of virtue, we are authorized to conclude, that virtue is the law we are born under, that it was so in- tended by the Author of our being ; and we are bound by the most intimate of all obhgations, a regard to our own high 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 relation 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 between human creatures and hrutes. But Ijesides these common passions and affections, there is another principle pecu- liar 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 them- ielves, and to disapprove of others. That this prmciple will of course have so?ne influence on our behaviour, at least at times, will hardly be dispvUed ; but the particular influence •A^aich it ought to have, tlie precise degree of power in the regulating of our internal frame that is assigned it by Plim who placed il there, is a point of the utmost consequence in itself and on the determination of which, the very hmge of lur Author's Moral System turns. If the faculty here spo 4 PREFACE ken of be, indeed, what it is asserted to be, in nature and kind, superior to every oilier passion and aftection ; if it be given, not merely that it may exert its force occasionally, oi as our present humour or fancy^ may dispose us, but that it may at all times exercise an uncontrollable authority and government over all the rest ; it will then follow^, that, in or- der to complete the idea of human nature as a system, we must not only take in each parlicular bias, propension, in- stinct, which are seen to belong to it, but we must add. be» Bides, the principle of conscience, together with the subjec- tion 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, but from these considered as acting in vari- ous degrees of subordination to each other, and all under the direction of the supreme authority, whether that authori- ty, be vested in one person or more. The view here given of the internal constitution of man, and of the supremacy of conscience, agreeable to the con- ceptions of Bishop Butler, enables us to comprehend the force of that expression, common to him and the ancient moralists, that virtue consists in folloiuing nature. . The meaning cannot be, that it consists in acting agreeably to that propensity of our nature which happens to be the stron- gest ; or which propels us towards certain objects without any regard to the methods by which they are to be obtained; but the meaning must be, that virtue consists in the due regulation and subjection of all the other appetites and affections to the superior facullj'- of conscience ; from a conformity to which alone our actions are properly natural^ or coriespondent 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 promj.: us ; but that every man has the rule of light within him ; a rule attended in the very notion of it with aiilhority, and such as has the force of a direction and a command from Him who made us what we are, what course of behavioui is suited to our nature, and which he expects that we should follow. This mora.! faculty implies also a presentiment and apprehension, that the judgment \vhich it passes on our ac- tions, conside-ed as of good or ill desert, will hereafter be confirmed by the unerring judgment of God ; when virtue unl happiness, vxe and misery, whose ideas are now st BY THE EFITOR. 5 closely connected, shall be inclisso.\ibly unitec, and the divine government be found to correspond in the most exact propor- tion to the nature he has given us. La&tly, this just preroga- tive or supremacy of conscience it is, wh^':^. Mr Pope has described in his Universal Prayer^ though p'- 'haps, he may liave expressed it rather ioo strongly where ne 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 tho subject of morals, by an appeal to facts^ does not at all inter- fere with that other wa^'^, adopted by Dr Samuel Clarke and others, which begins v/ith inquning into the relations and fitness of things, but rather illustrates and confirms it. That :here are essential differences in the qualities of human ac- tions, established bynature,and that this wa/zo-a/ difference of things, prior to and independent of all ii^ill, creates a natural fitness in the agent to act agreeably to it, seems as little to be denied, as that there is the /wora/ difference before explain- ed, li'om which we approve and feel a pleasure in what is right, and conceive a distaste to what is wrong. Stil!, how- ever, when we are endeavoring to establish either this mo- ral or that natural difference, it ought never to be forgotten, or rather it will reqmre 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 ori- ginally appointed these differences, and by such an appoint- ment has signified his tvill that we should conform to them, %s the onl}^ effectual method of securing our happiness on the whole under his government.* And of this consideration oui prelate hiinself was not unmindful ; as may be collected from many expressions in different parts of his writings, and particularly from the following passages in his Xlth Sermon. ' It may be allowed, without any prejudice to the cause of virtue and religion, that our ideas of happmcss ard misery aie, of all our ideas, the nearest and most important to us ; that they will, nay, if you please, that the}' ought to prevail over those of order, and beauty, and harmony, and prop.ution, if there should ever be, as it is impossible there ever should be, any inconsistence between ihcm ' And ♦ See note E, at the end of this Preface 6 PREFACE again, * Tho-agh virtue or moral recMlude does indeed, con sist in aifection 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 an}'- other pursuit, till we are con- vinced that it will be for our happiness, or at least not con- trary to it.'* Besides the general system of morality opened above, our Author, in his volume of Sermons, has stated with accurac/ the difference between self love and benevolence ; in oppo* suioii :o those who, on the one hand, make the whole of virtue to consist in benevolence, | and to those who, on the other, assert that every particular affection and action is re- solvable into self-love. In combating these opinions, he has shown, I think, unanswerably, that there are the same kind of indications ui hunjan nature, that we were made to pro- mote the happiness of others, as that we were made to pro- mote our own ; that it is no just objection to this, that we have dispositions to dp 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 ; thai the thing to be lamented is, not that men have too great a regard to then own real good, but that they have not enough ; that bene- volence is not more at variance with, or unfriendly to, self- love, than any other particular affection is ; and that by con- sulting the happmess of others a man is so far from lessen ing his own, ti^at the very endeavour to do so though he should fail in the accomplishment, is a source of the high- est satisfaction and peace of mind. J He has also, in pas- sing, animadverted on the philosopher of Malmsbury, who. in his book ' Of Human Nature,' has advanced, as discove- ries in moral science, that benevolence is only the love of power, and compassion the fear of future calamity to our- selves. And this our Author has done, not so much v/ith the design of exposing the false reasoning of Mr Kobbes, but because on so perverse an account of human nature he has raised a system, subversive of all justice and honesty.§ 11. Tne religious system of Bishop Butler is chiefly tc be collected from the treatise, entitled, 'The Analogy n' ♦ Scrm. XI. t See thfi 2d Dissertation ' On the Nature oi Virtue' X See Scrm. i. and xi. and the Preface to the V^olune of Slst our author continued preacher at the Rolls-Chapel, he divided his time between his duty in town and country; but when he quitted the Roi he resided, during seven years, wholly at Stanhope, in tn : conscious discharge of ever;/ obligation appertaining to a go * parish priest. This retirement, however, was too sohtar^ r his disposition, which had in it a natural cast of gloonitn. ss. And though his reciuse 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 w^hich could inspire him with the greatest cheerfulnfjss. Mr Seeker, therefore, who knew this, was extremely anxious to draw him out into a more active and conspicuous scene, and omitted no opportu riity of expressing this desire to such as he thought capable of promoting it. Having himself been appointed king's chaplain, in 1732, he took occasion, in a conversation which ho had the honor of holding with Q,ueen Carohne, to men- tion (O her his friend Mr Butler. The queen said she thought he had been dead. Mr Seeker assured her die was not. Yet her Majesty afterwards asked Archbishop Black- burn if he was not dead ; his answer was, " No, madam ; but he is buried." Mr Seeker continuing his purpose of endeavouring to bring his friend out jf his retirement, found 22 THE LIFE OF means, upon Mr Charles Talbot's being made lord chansd lor, to have Mr Butler recommended to him for his chaplain His lordship accepted, and sent for hinj ; and this promotion calling him to town, he took Oxford in his way, and was ad- mitted there to the degree of doctor of law, on the 8th December, 1733. The lord chancellor, who gave him also H prebend in the church of Rochester, had consented that Ym 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 no- tice^ 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 of 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 m 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 favor, that in the next year he was raised to the highest order of the church, by a nomination to the bishopric of Bristol ; to which see he was consecrated on the Third December, 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 installed on the 24th May in that year. Finding the demands of this dignity to be in- compatible with his parish diUy at Stanhope, he iiniriediate* iy resigned that rich benefice. Besides our prelate's unre- mitted attention to his peculiar obligations, he w^as called upon to preach several discourses on public occasions, which were afterwards separately printed, and have since been an- nexed 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 October, 1750, he received another distinguished mark of his Majesty's favor, by being transla ted to the see of Dtirham. This was on the 16th of Octo Der 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, DR BUTLER. 28 Mil indeed his last charge to his clergy, at. his primary visi- tation in 1751. The principal object of it was, ' External Religion.' The bishop having observed, with deep concern, ihe great and growing neglect of serious piety in the king- dom, insisted strongly on the usefulness of outward forms and institutioi^s, in fixing and preserving a sense of Jevotion and duty in the minds of men. In doing this, ne was thought by several persons to speak too favourably of Pa- gan 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 1762, a pamphlet, entitled, ' A Serious Inquiry into the Use and Importance of External ReUgion ; occasioned by some pas- sages in the Right Rev, the Lord Bishop of Durham's Charge to the 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 think our prelate's Charge so exceptionable as it appeared to this au- thor. The Charge, being printed at Durham, and having never been annexed to any of Dr Butler's other works, is now become extremely scarce ; and it is observable, that it Is the only one of his publications which ever produced hira a direct hterary antagonist.* By this promotion, our worthy bishop was furnished with ample means of exerting the virtue of charity ; a virtue which eminentl}^- abounded in him, and the exercise o! which was his highest dehght. 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, up- on 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 last 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 JunCj 1752. His corpse was conveyed to Bristol, and interred in the cathedral there, where a monument, with an inscription, *s erected to his memory. On the greatness of Bishop Butler's character we need ♦ This Charge, with all the rest oi Bishop Butler's writings, is included in the present edition of his works. «*4 THE LIFE OF DR. BUTLER. not enlarge ; for his profound knowlerl^e, and the prodigious strength of his mind, are amply displayed in his incompara ble writing. His piety was of the most serious and fervent and, perhaps somewhat of the ascetic kind. His bcnevo I once was warm, generous, and diffusive. Whilst he waa 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 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 hkewise o, principal promoter, though not the first founder of the infirmary at Newcastle, in Northumberland. In supporting the hospitality and dignity of the rich and pow- erful 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 entertain- ment of the principal gentry of the country. Nor were even the clergy who had the poorest benificee neglected by him. He not only occasionally invited them to dine with him, but condescended to visit them at their respective par ishes. By his will he left five hundred pounds to the Socie- ty for Propagating the Gospel in Foreign Parts and some legacies to his friends and domestics. His executor and residuary legatee was his chaplain, the Rev. Dr Nathaniel Forster, a divine of distinguished Uterature. Bishop Butler was never married. Soon after his decease, the following lines, by way of epitaph, were written concerning him ; and were prnted first, if we recollect aright, in the London Ma- gazine. Beneath thi.s marble, Butler lies entombed, Who, with a soul enHamed by love divine, His life in pt'jsence of his God consumed, Like the bright lamps before the holy shrine. His aspect pleasing, mind with learning fraught, His eloquence was like a chain of gold, That the wild passions of mankind controlled; Merit, wherever to be found, he sought. Desire of transient riches he had none ; These he, with bounteous hand, did wdl dispense Bent to fulfil the ends of Providence ; His heart still fixed on an immortal crown; His hrart a mirror was, of purest kind. Where the bright in)ageof his Maker shinod ; Reflecting faithful totne throne above, The arradiant glories of ihe Mystic Dove Th* following Epitaph, said to be written by Dr Nathan. iel Forster, is inscribed on a flat marble stone, in the ca thedral church cf 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 wliile here to nrcserve. H. S. Reverendus admodum in Chnsto Pater JOSEPH US BUTLER, LL. D. Hujusce primo Dicecescos Dcinde Dunelmensis Episcopus. Qualis quantusq ; Vir erat Sua libentissime agnovit set as : Et M quid Presuli aut Scriptori ad famam valeat Mens altissinia, Ingenii pcrspicacis et gubacti Vis, Anhnusq ; pius, simplex. Candidas, libenlifl^ Mortui hand facile cvancscet memoria. Obiit Bathoniae 16 Kalend. Julij, A. D. 1752. AoBos natns fid rmi^ib it-. ADVERTISEMENT. If the readier should meet here with any thing which he had not before attended to, it will not be in the observations upon the constitution and course of nature, these being aH obvious ; but m the application of them : in which, thougl there is nothing but what appears to me of some real weighty 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. How- ever, the proper force of the following treatise lies in tl e whole general analogy considered together. It is come, I know not how, to be taken for granted, b} many persons, that Christianity is not so much as a subject of mquiry ; but that it is, now at length, discovered to be fictitious. And accordingly they treat it, as if, in the pre- sent age, this were an agreed point among all people of dis- cernment ; and nothing remained, but to set it up as a prin- cipal subject of mirth and ridicule, as it were by way of re- prisals, 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 graiUed, but proved, that any reasona We man, who will thoroughly consider the matter, may be as much assvu'od, 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 thip.k, strong evidence of its truth; bu* it is certain S8 AUVERTIBEMBIIT. ttO one c*t»i, upon principles of reason, be satisfied of the contrarj. And the practical consequence to be drawn firom this, is not attended to, b^ every one who is concerned In it. JIfcy, 1796. INTRODUCTION. Probjlble evidence is essentially distinguished fron de- monstrative by this, that it admits of degrees, and of all variety of them, from the highest moral certainty, to the ve- ry lowest presumption We cannot, indeed, say a thing k probably true upon one very slight presumption for it ; be- cause, as there may be probabilities on both sides of th*" question, there may be some against it ; and though there be not, yet a slight presumption does not beget that degree of conviction, which it 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 amo\mt even to moral CHr* lainty. Thus, a man's having observed the ebb and flow of t,he tiJ»3 to-day, affords some sort of presumption, though the owest imaginable, that it may happen again to-morrow; out the observation of this event for so many days, and months, and ages together, as it has been observed by •nankind, 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 circum- stances. For when we determine a thing to be probably true, suppose that an event has or will come to pass, *i is from the mind's remarking in it a likeness to some other events *Vemeioife. 30 INTRODUCTION. which we have observed has come to pass. And this ob- servation forms, in numberless daily instances, a presump- tion, opinion, or full conviction, that such even: has 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 be- lief, that a child, if it lives twenty years, will grow up to the stature and strength of a man ; that food will contribute 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 suc- cess 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, ex- pect, judge ; 1 say upon our having observed the hke, either with respect to others or ourselves. And thus, whereas the prince,* who had always hved 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 ob- served it to be fluid and yielding ; we, on the contrary, from analogy, conclude, that there is no presumption -at all against tJiis ; 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 im- perfect kind of information, and is to be ccnsidered as rela live 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 hfe. From these things it follows, that in questions of difficul- ty, or such as are thought so, where more satisfactory evi- dence cannot be had, or is not seen, if the result of examiiia- tion be, that there appears, upon the whole, any the lowest presumption on one side, and none on the other, or a greaici presumption on one side, though in the lowest degree gica^ » The Story v told by Mr Locko, in the chapter of ProbaHlity. INTRODUCTION. fl Icr, this determines the question, even in matters of specu (ation ; and, in matters of practice, will lay us under an ab Bolute and formal obligation, in point of prudence and of in terest, to act upon that presumption, or low probability though it be so *ow as to leave the mind in a very great doubt which is the truth. For surely a man is as reallj bound in prudence to do what upon the whole a[)pears, ao cording to the best of his judgment, to be for his happinesSi as what he certainly knows to be so. Nay, further, in ques- tions of great consequence, a reasonable man will think it concerns him to remark lower probabilities and presumption* than these ; suoii 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 res- pecting the common pursuits of life, where a man would be thought, in a literal sense, distracted, who would not act, &.nd 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 pro- ceeds, that likeness should beget that presumption, opinion, and full conviction, which tne human mind is formed to re- ceive 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 this 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 been attempted by those who have treated of our intellectu- a'. 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, various degrees, towards determining our judgment, and our practice. Nor does it in any wise cease to be of weight in those cases, because persons, either given to dispute, or who require things to be stated with greater exactness than our faculties appear to admit of ir- |»acticai matters, may. find other cases, in which it ii xioi •Soe Chap. vL Puts: 32 INTRODUCTION. easy to say, whether it be, or be net, of an}' weigh* . or m« Btanc3s of seeming analogies, which are real.y of none. It is enough to the present purpose to observe, that this gene- ral way of arguing is evidently natural, just and conclusive. For there is no man can make a question but that ths sun will rise to-morrow, and be seen, where it is seen at all, ia the figure of a circle, and not in that of a square. Hence, namely from analogical reasoning, Origen* haa with singular sagacity observed, that, ' he who believes the Scriptures to have proceeded from him who is the Authoi of nature, may well expect to find the same sort of difficul- ties in it, as are found in the constitution of nature.' And, in a like way of reflection, it may be added, that he who de- nies the Scripture to have been from God, upon account of these difficulties, may for the very same reason, deny the world to have been formed by him. On the other hand, if there be an analogy, or likeness,' between that system of things and dispensation of Providence which revelation in- forms us of, and that system of things and dispensation of Providence which experience, together with reason, informs us of, i. e. the known course of nature ; this is a presump- tion, that they have both the same author and cause ; at least so far as to answer objections against the former being from God, drawn from any thing which is analogical or simi" lar to what is in the latter, which is acknowledged to be firom him ; for an Author of nature is here supposed. Forming our notions of the constitution and government of the world upon reasoning, without foundation for the principles which we assume, whether from the attributes of GU>d, 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 wc have no ground to apply them, (like those who explain the structure of the human body, and the nature of diseases and medicines, from mere mathematics, without sufficient data) is an error much akin to the former : since what is as- sumed, in order to make the reasoning appHcable, is hypothe- sis. But it must be allowed just, to join abstract reasoning with the observation of facts, and argue from such facts aa are known, to others that are like th(,'m ; from that part of the Divine government over intelligent creatures, which * Xpn ^itv Toi ye Ttv hva^ vapait^a^evtv t» KTiaavros tov Kotrfiop ttvat •'aw fat rnf ypatpas ntTrti iider 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 happmess, and vice the misery, of every creature ; and that regularity, and order, and right, cannot but prei^ail, 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 oar thoughts to what we ex- perience to be the conduct of Nature with respect to intelli- gent 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 col- lected from experiments. And let us compare the knowi. constitution and course of things with what is said to be the moral system of Nature, 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 they are not analogous, and of a piece. And upon such a comparison it will, I think, be found, that they are very much so ; that both may be traced up to the same general laws, and resolved into the same piinciples 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 some 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. Ani it will afford an answer to almost all objections against the system both of natural and of revealed religion, though not perhaps an answer m so great a degiee, yet in a very considerable degree an answer, to the objections against the evidence of it ; for, objections against a proof, and objoctiona 5 86 INTROPrcTION. against what is said to be proved, the reader will obser\'e are different things. Now, the divine government cf the world, imJDlicd in the notion of religion in general, and of Christianity, contains in it, — That mankind is appointed to live in a futm'e state ;* that there every one shall be rewarded or punished; f re-, warded or pmiished respectively for all that behaviour here whicii we comprehend under the words, virtuous or vicious, morally g.;od or evil : ]. that our present life is a probation, a state of trial, § and of disciphne, j| for that future one; notwithstanding the objections which men may fancy they tKive, from notions of necessity, against there being any such moral plan as this at all; IT and whatever objections may appear to he against the wisdom and goodness of it, as it stands so imperfectly made known to us at present : * * ihat this world being in a state of apostacy and wickedness, and consequently of ruin, and the sense both of their condi- tion and duty being greatly corrupted amongst men, thia gave occasion for an additional dispensation of Providence, of the utmost importance, 1 1 proved by miracles, J J but containing in it many things appearing to us strange, and not to have been expected ; § § a dispensation of Providence, which is a scheme or system of things || || carried on by the mediation of a Divine person, the Messiah, in order to the recovery of the world : ^^ ye* 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.*** The design, then, of the following Treatise will be to show, that the several parts principally objected against in his moral and Christian dispensation, including its scheme, its publication, and the proof which God has af- forded 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 chief objections themselves, which are alleged against the former, are no other than what may be alleged wiih Uke 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 •Chi tCh.ii. tCh.iii. 5Ch.iv. il Ch. V. irch vi. ♦♦Ch.vu r r Part 11. ch. i. ttCkil f«Ch.iu. UllCh. iv. IfUCkv. ♦♦•CkvL^ IKTRODdOTlON. B7 2 OF A FUTLIU LIFE [ci'AP. i from their actual exercise, but also from the ^nesent capaci- ty of exercising them ; and opposed to their destruction ; for sleep, or, however, a swoon, shows us, not only that these powers exist when they are not exercised, as the passive power of motion does in inanimate matter ; tul shows also that they exist, when there is no present capa- city of exarrising 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 themselves remain undestroyed. Since, then, we know not at all upon what the existence of our living powers depends, this shows fur- ther, there can- no probability be collected from the reason of the thing, that death will be their 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 m^ore certain, than that the reason of the thing shows us no connexion between death and the destruction of living agents. Nor can v/e find any thing throughout the whole analogy oj 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 ucfore their death, of their being possessed of living powers, *.ut does not appear to afford the least reason to believe, ^iat they are then, or by that event, deprived of them. And our knowing, that they were possessed of these jwwers, up to the very period to which we have faculties capable of tracing them, is itself a probability of their retain- ing them beyond it. And this is confirmed, and a sensible credibility is given to it, by observing the very great and astonishing changes which we have experienced ; so great, that our existence in another state of \ik, of perception and of action, will be but according to a method of providential conduct, the like to which has been already exercised, even with regard to ourselves ; according to a course of nature, the like to which we have already gone through. However, as one cannot but be greatly sensible, how difficult it is to silence imagination enough to make the vcicc of reason even distinctly heard in this case ; as we are accustomed, from our youth up, to mdulge that forward delusive faculty, ever obtruding beyond its sphere ; of sol-w FART I ] OF A FUTURE £,IFE. 43 assistance, indeed, to apprehension, lut the author of afi error : as we plain, y lose ourselves in irross and crude con- ceptions of things, taking for granted that we are acqr.aint- ed 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 Iftsting prejudices ; and to show how little they can really amount to, even though we cannot wholly divest ourselves of them. And I. All presumption of death's being the destruction of liv- ing beings, must go upon supposition that they are com- pounded, and so discerptible. But, since consciousness is a single and individual 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 divided into two, one part might be moved and the other at rest, which is contrary to the supposition. In hke manner, it has been argued, * and, for any thing ap- pearing to the contrary, justly, that since the perception, or consciousness, which we have of our own existence is indi- visible, 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, conse- quently, 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, jr part 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 a:[)propriated to us in the manner which our present bodies aie, as how we can receive impressions from, and have power over any matter. It is as ea.sy to conceive, that we may exist out of bodies, as in them ; thai we might have animated bodies of any other organs and senses wholly different from these now given us, and that * See Dr Clarke's Letter to Mr Dodwcll, and the Defences of It, 5^ i4 OF A FUTURE LIFE. [cHAP. I we ma 7 nereafter animate these same or new bodies vari ciisiy modified and organized, as to conceive how we can animate such bodies as our present. And, lastly, the disso- lution of all these several organized bodies, supposing our- selves to have successively animated them, would have no more conceivable tendency to destroy the living beings, our- selves, or deprive us of living faculties, the faculties of per- ception and of action, than the dissolution of any foreign matter, which we are capable of receiving impressions from, 6ad 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 fall in with the supposition of its \xn\iy. 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 aving agents : And persons can trace up the existence of themselves to a time when the bulk of their bodies was ex- tremely 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 Hving agents, ourselves, and large quantities of matter, in which we are very nearly interested : since these may be alienated, and actually are in a daily course of succession, and changing their owners ; whilst we are assured, that each Hving 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 expe rience, what is the certain bulk of the living being each man calls himself ; and yet, till it be determined that it is * Said of hearing : and our feeling distant solid matter by rne?jis of somewhat in our hand, seems an instance of the like kind, as to the subject we are considering. All these are instances of foreign matter, or such as is no part of our body, being instrumental in preparing objects for, and conveying tnem 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 Hke way, instruments of cur receiv- ing such ideas from external objects, as the Author of na- ture appointed those external objects to be the occasions of exciting in us. However, glasses are evidently instances of this ; namely, of matter, which is no part of our body, pre- paring objects forj and conveying them towards the perceiv^ ing 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 hke may justly be concluded from analogy, of all our other senses. It is not intended, by any thing hero said, to affirm, that t;n, tliat death mn j CHAP, 1.] OF A FUTURE LIFF. 5,1- not perhaps be so much as a discontinuance of the exeicise of these powers, nor of the enjoyments and sufferings which itimpUes;* so that our posthumous life, whatever there may be in it additional to our present, yet may not be entirely be- ginning anew, but going on. Death may, in some sort, and in some respects, answer to our birth, which is not a sus- pension of the faculties which we had before it, or a totaJ 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 ;| 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 hindrance to our existing, immediately and of course, in a higher state of re- flection. 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 so totally different in kind, as we experience from 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 to 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 ♦ There are three distinct questions, relating to a future life, here con- ■idered : Whether death be the destruction of living agents 1 If not, Whether it be the destruction of their present powers of reflection, as it certainly is the destruction of their present powers of sensation 7 And if not, Whether it he the suspension, or discontinuance of the exercise, of these present reflecting powers'? Now, if there be no reason to bclkva the last, there will be, if that were possible, less for the next, and 'ess ^iU for tt? first. t This, according to Strabo, was the opinion of tl e Brahmans : vofti- ^civ ficv yap 6ri rov fiEv evdaie Piov, i»s av axfitjv KVOfjcvtov nai' tov 6c davarov. yEvtaii CIS TOV oktwj fiiov, kui tov cvdaijiova TOtg ^i^oao minds, if it were certain that our future interest no way de-o^ ^ pend 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, and obtain that happi- ness in another life, which we not only suppose ourselves -^s capable of, but which we apprehend also is put m our own power. And whether there be ground for this last appre- hension, certainly would deserve to be most seriously consi • dercd^ were there no other proof of a future life, and interest than that presumptive one which the foregoing observationt amount to. t/^Uv^-*^ Now, m the present state, all which we enjoy, and a great iIt'i-*^^P^*^ of what we suffer, is put in our oion power. For p^ea- L^j^^^^;j/«ure md pain are the consequences of our actions ; and we ^jrC/^^ endued by the Author of our nature with capacities of "^ Ibresecing these consequences. We find, by experience, he does not so much as preserve our hves exclusively of our own care and attention to provide ourselves with, and to make CHAP. II.] BY REWARDS AND PUNISHMEMS. * 65 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, thai the external things, which are the objects of our various pas- sions, can neither be obtained nor enjoyed, without exerting '^^ ourselves in such and such manners ; but by thus exerting ^ 7 ourselves, we obtain and enjoy, these objects, in which qui natural good consists, or by this means God gives us the pos- session and enjoyment of them. I know not that we have any one kind or degree of enjoyment, but by the means of our own actions. And by prudence and care, we may, forbi*^/*'^ the most part, pass our days in tolerable ease and quiet : or, '^c^rC^j^ on the contrary, we may, by rashness, ungovemed passion. ^^^^ *~^ wilfulness, or even by negligence, make ourselves as misera- ''*^^^-« ble as ever we please. And many do please to make them- selves extremely miserable, i. e. to do what they know be- forehand will render them so. They follow those ways, tho fruit of which they know, by instruction, example, experi- ence, 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 not give his creatures promiscuously such and such perceptions, without regard to o . , ^ their behaviour ; why he does not make them happy with- ' "^ out the instrumentality of their own actions, and prevent [^'j/^ their bringing any sufferings upon themselves, is another ^^ matter. Perhaps there may be some impossibilities in the'';^^^< nature of things, which we are unacquainted with ;* Or less / ^^a^^,^ happiness, it may be, would, upon the whole, be produced ,,X^^ by such a method of conduct, than is by the present : Or, . /Z^^/U perhaps, divine goodness, with which, if I mistake not, we ,_.,'^ axxc make very free in our speculations, may not be a bare single ^ujliVU. disposition to produce happiness ; but a disposition to make the good, tne faithful, the honest man, happ3^ Perhaps an infinitely perfect Mind may be pleased with seeing his crea tures behave suitably to the nature which he has given them,* to tho relations which he has placed them in to each other ; and to that which they stand in to himself; that relation to nimself, which, during their existence, is even necessary, and Wtuch is the most important one of all. Perhaps, I say, ao • Part i. ch&p. 7 66 OF THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD [PART I biinitely perfect Mind may be pleased with this moral pielj^ of moral agents, ii. and for itself, as well as upon account of its being (essentially conducive to the happiness of his crea- tion. Or the whoL^ end, for which God made, and thus go- verns the world, may be utterly beyond the reach of our fa- culties : There may be somewhat in it as impossible for us to have any conception of, as for a blind man to ha\ e a con- ception of colors. But however this be, it is certair matter )f universal experience, that the general method of divine ad- ministration is, forewarning us, or giving us capacities to fore- see, 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 suffer ings, in consequence of our actions. * But all this is to be ascribed to the general course of na- ture.' True. This is the very thing which 1 am observ- ing. 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 consistency, call ed natural, and which necessarily implies an operating agent. For when men find themselves necessitated to con- fess an Author of Nature, or that God is the natural gove- nor of the world, they must not deny this again, because his government is uniform ; they must not deny that he does all things at all, because he does them constantly ; be- cause 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 parti cular gratification of passion, intended to put us upon gra- tifying ourselves in every such particular instance, and as a reward'to us for so doing V No, certainly. Nor is it to be said, that our eyes were naturally intended to give us th^ nfrhi of each particular object to which they do or can ex CHAP. II.] BY REWARDS AND PUNISHMEIkTS. 5*J ler.d; 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 wiih. So neither is there any doubt, but that the foreseen pleasures and pains, belongmg to the passions, were inten- ded, in general, to induce mankind to act in such and such manners. . Now, from this general observation, obvious to every on 5/ that God has given us to understand he has appointed satisA faction and delight to be the consequence of our acting in I one manner, and pain and uneasiness of our acting in an- ) other, and of our not acting at all ; and that we find the consequences, which we were beforehand informed of, uni- formly to follow ; we may learn, that we are at present ac- tually under his government, in the strictest and most pro- per sense ; in such a sense, as that he rewards and punish- es us for our actions. An Author of Nature being suppo- sed, it is not so much a deduction of reason as a matter of experience, that we are thus under his government : under his government, in the same sense as we are under the go- vernment of civil magistrates. Because the annexing plea- sure 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 go- vernment. Whether the pleasure or pain which thus fol- lows upon our behaviour, be owing to the Author of Na- ture'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 be- fore us. For, if civil magistrates could make the sanction of their laws take place, without interposing at all, aftei they had passed them ; without a trial, and the formahties of an execution : if they were able to make their laws exe cute them themselves or every offender to execute them upon himself, we should be just in the same sense un- ler their government then, as v/e are now ; but in a much higher degree, and more perfect manner. Vain \% the ridicule with which one foresees some persons will divert themselves, upon finding lesser pains considered as mstances of divine punishment. There is no possibility of answering or evading the general thing here intended, witn- out denying all final causes. For, final causes being admit- ted, the pleasures and pains now mentioned must be admitted too, as instances of them. And if they are ; if God annex- 3* 68 <>F THE GOVENRNMENT OF GOD [pARf I es 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, sup- pose 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 alto- gether as much an instance of his punishing our actions, and consequently of our being under his government, as de- claring, by a voice from heaven, that if we acted so, he would inflict such pain upon us, and inflicting it whether it be greater or less. Thus we find, that the true notion or conception of 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 ex- ercises dominion or government over us at present, by re- wardmg 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 in- credible in the general doctrine of religion, that God will re- ward 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 punish ing. But, as di'vdne punishment is what men chiefly object against, and are most unwiU'ng to allow, it may be proper to mention some circumstances in the natural course of pun- ishments at present, which are analogous to what religion teaches us concerning a future state of punishment ; indeed •o analogous, that as they add a further credibility to it, so ihey cannot but raise a most serious apprehension of it in tlioae who will attend to them. ^ L CHAP. II.] BY REWARDS AND TUNISIIMENTS. 69 It has been now observed, that such and siicl miseries na> kirally follow such and such actions of imprudence and wil- fulness, as well as actions more commonly and more distinct- ly considered as vicious ; and that these consequences, wher; Ihey may be foreseen, are properly natural punishments an- aexed to such actions. For the general thing here insisted apon is, not that we see a great deal of misery in the world, out a great deal which men bring upon themselves by their own behaviour, which they might have foreseen and avoid ed. Now, the circumstances of these natural punishrnentSj^ particularly deserving our attention, are such as these :(That . oftentimes t hey folloW j_or_ai;;e inflicted in consequiejQce^Sl^ / 'lioifs which procure many present advantages, and are ac- companied with much present pleasurej for instance, sick- ness and untimely death is the consequence of intemperance though accompanied with the highest mirth and jollity • /That the^e punishments are often much greater than the ad- vantages or pleasures obtained by the actions, of which they ^ arelhe'pumshments or cout^equences j) TITat though we may imagine a constitution of nature, in miich these natural pun- ishments, which are in fact to follow, would follow immedi ately upon such actions being done, or ver^^ soon after \j^ find, on the contrary, mom* world, tl^iat they are. often delay- 3 ed a great while, sometimes ^ven tilFlong after the actions "occasioning thetfl are forgot ;\o that the constitution of na- ture is such, Ih at delay of pwnishment is no sort nor degree of presumption of final impunity ;(Xhat^after such delay, these natural punishments or miseries often come^ not by de- // grees, but juddenly, with violence, and at oncel\ however, / the chief misery often does : That, as certainty ei such dis tant misery following such actions is never afforded persons. 60, 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 credi bility that intemperance, suppose, will bring after its diseases; civil crimes, civil punishments ; when yet the real probabili- \,y often is, that they shall escape ; but things notwithstand- '.ng take their destined course, and the misery inevitable 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 Blsarly foreseeing all the consequences of being untractable • See Part ii. chap. 6. GOVERNMENT OF GOD [^PART I .ftf, pfofligafie ; this does not hinder but that these conse* quences follow, and are grievously felt throughout the l^whole course of future life. Habits contracted, even in That age, are often utter ruin ; and men's success in the Jworld, not only in the common sense of worldly succees, 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 the most part, neglect to consider, and perhaps seldom can properly be said to beheve beforehand. It requires also to be mentioned, that, in numberless cases, the natural course of things affords us opportunities for procuring advantages to ourselves at certain times, which we cannot procure when we will ; nor even recall the opportunities, if we have neglected them. Indeed, the general course of nature is an example of this. If, dur- ing the opportunity of youth, persons are indocile and self- willed, they inevitably suffer in their future life, for want of those acquirement^ which they neglected the natural sea- son of attaining. If the husbandman lets his seed-timo pass without sowing, the whole year is lost to him beyond recovery. In hke 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, yet real reformation is, in many cases, of no avail at all to- wards preventing the miseries, poverty, sickness, infamy, na- turally annexed to folly and extravagance, exceeding that de- gree. There is a certain bound to imprudence and misbe- haviour, which being transgressed, there remains no place for repentance in the natural course of thmgs. It is fur- ther, very much to be remarked, that neglects from inconsi- derateness, want of attention,* 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. A.nd, lastly, civil government being natural, the punishments of it are so too ; and some of these punishments are capital, as the effects of a disso- lute course of pleasure are often mortil. S( that many nataral punishments are final "j" to him vho incurs them, if * Part ii. chap. G. T The jreneral consideration of i future state of puniKhmeiit most evi- dently belongs to the subject of natural religion But if any of these re- flections should be thought to relate more particularly to this doctrine, «e la.-ght in scripture, the reader is desired to observe, that Gentile writen*, CI1A.P. II. J BY REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. Ul considered only in his tempoial capacity ; and seem inflic- ted by natural appointment, either to remove the olfender out of the way of being further mischievous, or as an ex ample, though frequently a disregarded one, to those who are left behind. These things are not what we call accidental, or to oe met with only now and then ; but they are things of every day's experience ; they proceed from general laws, very general ones, by which God governs the world, in the na- tural course of his providence. And they are so analogous tk) what religion teaches us concerning the future punish- ment 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,* fctr in- stance, Wisdom is introduced as frequenting the most pub- lic 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 ones, will ye love folly, and the scorners delight in their scorning, and fools hate knowledge ? Turn ye at my reproof Behold, I will pour out my spirit upon you, T will make known my words unto you.' But upon being neg- lected, ' Because I have called, and ye refused, 1 have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded ; but ye have set at naught all my counsel, and would none of my re- proof: I also will laugh at youi calamity, I will mock when your fear cometh ; when your fear cometh as deso- lation, and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind ; when both moralists and poets, speak of the future punishment of the wicked, both as to the duration and degree of it, in a like manner of expression and of description as the Scripture does. So that all which can positively be asserted to be matter of mere revelation, with regard to this doctrine, seems to be, that the great distinction between the righteous and the wicked shall be made at the end of this world ; that each shall then receive according to his deserts. Reas«jn did, as it well might, conclude, that It should, finally and upon the whole, be well with the righteous and ill with thu wi ked ; but it could not be determined, upon any principles of leasoi;, whether hunjan creatures might not have been appointed to pass through other states of life and being, before that distributive ju»;tice Bhould finally and efiectually take place. Revelation teaches us, that the next state of things, after the present, is appointed for the execution of this justice; that it shall be no longer delayed; but the mystery of God, the great mystery of his suffering vice and confusion to prevail, shall then te jlnished ; and he will take to him his great power, and will reign, by rer.iJering to every on6 OF THE MORAl fpA^RT L 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 thi« chapter is to inquire how fur this is the case ; how far, over and above the moral nature* wJiich God has given us, and our natural notion of him, as righteous governor of those I is creatures to whom he has given this nature ;| I say how far, besides this, the principles and beghinings of moral government over the world may be discerned notwithstand- ing 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 consequences^ of a virtuous than a vicious course of life, in the present state as an instance of moral government estabhshed in nature ; an instance of il collected from experience and present mat- ter of fact. But It must be owned a thing of diffi- culty to weigh and balance pleasures and uneasinesses, each among themselves, and also amongst each other, so as to make an estimate with an exactness, of the overplus of happiness on the side of \irtue. 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 lalameless ; and more 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 na- tural faculty of self-government impaired by habits of in- dulgence, and with all his vices about him, like so many harpxrs, 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 1 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 avow ing even du-ect villany, they can support themselves against the infamy of it. But as the ill actions of any one will pro- bably 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 honor is reco- ♦ Dissertation 2. t Omp. 6. t See Lord Shaftesbury's Inquiry conwruing Virt'ic. Part 2, CHAP. III.] Gr)VERNMENT OF GCD 67 vered. Uneasinesses of this kind ought indeed io be put to the account of former vices ; yet 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 hap- pier than vice in the present world ; but if it were, yet the be- ginnings of a righteous administration may, beyond all ques- tion, be found in nature, if ' we will attentively inquire after ihem. And, I. In whatever manner the notion of God's moral govern- ment over the world might be treated, if it did not appear whether he were, in a proper sense, our governor at ail ; yet when it is certain matter of experience, that he does mani- fest 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 rulers of distribution, it is surely a question to be asked. What "^ presumption is there against his finally rewarding and ^ punishing them according to this particlar rule, namely, as they act reasonably or unreasonably, virtuously or viciously 1 '^ since rendering man happy or miserable by this rule, certain- ^ ly falls in, much more falls in, with our natural apprehen- ^ ^ions and sense of things, than doing so by any other rule, * A whatever ; since rewarding and punishing actions by any X;s other rule, would appear much harder to be accounted for by ■'■■^ minds formed as he has formed ours. Be the evidence of reli- ■" r gion, then, more or less clear, the expectation whicn it raises i;; in us, that the righteous shall upon the whole, be happy, and C5^ the wicked miserable, cannot, however, possibly be consi- dered 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 distrilDutive justice. Nor, II. Ought it to be entirely passed over, that tranquillity, satisfaction, and external advantages, being The natural con- sequences of prudent management of ourselves and our aflfau's ; and rashness, profligate negligence, and wilful folly, bringing after them many incorveniencies and suffer- ings ; these afford instances of a right constitution of na- • Chap. 2 6* 08 OF THE MORAL [PART 1 lure ; us the correction of children, for their own sakes and by the way of example, when they run into danger or hurl 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 consiitu* tion of things, and forseeing the good and bad consequences of oui behaviour, plainly implies some sort of moral govern* •^rr;ent : since from such a constitution of things it cannot but follow, that prudence and imprudence, M^hich are of the na- ture 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 apprehension of it in thos4 persons whose crimes have rendered them obnoxious to i\ in case of a discovery ; this state of fear being itself often a very considerable punishment. The natural fear and appre- hension of it too, which restrains from such crimes, is a de- claration 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 falsehood, injustice, cruel- \ ty : which punishment, therefore, is as natural as society, I and so is an instance of a kind of moral government, ,: naturally established, and actually taking place. And, / since the certain natural course of things is the con- / duct of Providence or the government of God, though carried on by the instrumentality of men, the observa- tion here made amounts to this, that mankind find them- selves placed by him in such circumstances, as that they are unavoidably accountable for their behaviour, and are often punished, and sometimes rewarded, under his go- vernment, in the view of their being mischievous or enuneat- ly beneficial to society. If it be objected that good actions, and such as are bene- ficial to society, are often punished, as in the case of perse- cution, and in other cases, and that ill and mischievous ac- tions 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 ♦ See Dissertation 2. CHaP. III.] GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 69 under the view of their being hurtful to it. So that it stands good, without any thing on the side of vice to be ?5cJ over against it, that the A uthor of nature has a& iruly di- rected that vicious actions, considered as mischievous to so- ciety, should be punished, and put mankind under a neces- sity of thus punishing them, as he has directed and iiecee- sitated us to preserve our lives by food. IV. In the natural course of things, virtue, as suck, is actually rewarded, and vice, as such, punished ; w^hich seems to afford an instance, or example, not only of govern- ment, but of moral government begun and established ; moral in the strictest sense, though not in that perfection of degree which reHgion teaches us to expect. In order to see this more clearly, we must distinguish between actions them- selves, and that quality ascribed to them, which we call vir- tuous or vicious. The gratification itself of every natural passion must be attended with delight ; and acquisitions of fortune, how^ever made, are acquisitions of the means or materials of enjoyment. An action, then, by wiiich any natural passion is gratified, or fortune acquired, procures de- light or advantage, abstracted from all consideration of the morality of such action. Consequently, the pleasure or ad- v^antage 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 differ- ent thing from saying, that such good or bad effect was ow ing to the virtue or vice of such an action or behaviour. In one case an action, abstracted from all moral considera- don, produced its effect ; in the other case, for it will appear that there are such cases, the moraUty of the action, the action under a moral consideration, i. e. the virtuousness or viciousness of it, produced the effect. Now I say, virtue, its such, naturally procures considerable advantages to the virtuous, and vice, as such, naturally occasions great incon- venience, and even misery to the vicious, in very many in- stances. The immediate effects of virtue and vice upon the mhid 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 feehng which respecting lesser matters and in familiar speech, we call being vexed with one's peif, and in matters of importcince. and ir. mora 70 OF THE MORAL [PART serious language, remorse, is an uneasiness naturally arising from an action of man's own, reflected upon bj himself as wrong, unreasonable, 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 lo 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 having 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 gratifi- cations of life, are the natural attendants of innocence and virtue ; to which must be added, the complacency, satisfac- tion, 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 uneasi- ness and satisfaction to the mind, and cannot be got rid of by great part of the world, even by men who have thought most thoroughly upon that subject of religion. And no one can say how considerable this uneasiness and sa- tisfaction 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 considerable degree ; from which favor and discouragement cannot bi:t arise considerable advantage and inconvenience. And though the generality of the world have httle regard to the morality of their ow^n actions, and may be supposed to have less to that of others, when they themselves are not concerned ; yet, let auy one be known to be a man of virtue, somehow oi other he will be favored, and good offices will be done him from regard to his character, without remote views, occa- sionally, and in some low degree, I think, by the generaU- ty of the world, as it happens to come in their way. Public honors, too, and advantages, are the natm-al consequences, JHAP. III. J GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 7l we sometimes at least the consequences in fact, of virtuous actions, of eminent justice, fidelity, charitj, love to our Coun- try, considered in the view of being virtuous. An 1 some times even death itself, often infamy and external inconven- iences, are the public consequences of vice, as vice. For instance, the sense which mankind liave of tyranny, injus- tice, oppression, additional to the mere feeling or fear of mis' ery, has doubtless been instrumental in bringing about rsvo«'.utions, which make a figure even in the history of the world. For it is plain men resent injuries as implying faul- tiness, 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 wen as of them- selves. So, Hkewise, even the generality are, in some de- gree, grateful and disposed to return good offices, not mere- ly 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 per- sons will think frivolous ; but to me nothing appears so, which at all comes in towards determining a question of such importance, as whether there be or be not a moral institu tion of government, in the strictest sense moral, visibly es- tablished and begun in nature. The particular things are these : That m domestic government, which is doubtless natural, children, and others also, are very generally punish- ed for falsehood, and injustice, and ill-behaviour, as such, and rewarded for the contrary ; which are instances where vera- city, 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 lespect to the mo- rahty of them, yet as such actions are immoral, so the sense which men have of the immorality of them very great- ly conlributes, in differe it ways, to bring offenders to justice ; &ad 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 amexed to civil crimes, in many cases, though by no mcaLs in all. Upon the who.e, then, besides the good and bad efFecta of virtue and vice, upon men's own minds, the course of the *?orld does, in some measure, turn upon the approbation and 72 OF THE MORAL [PART 1 disapprobation of L lem, as such, in others. The sense of weil and ih doing, tl.e presages of conscience, the love of good characters and dislike of bad ones, honor, shame, r SI •Jie advantage, rather than that virtue would. A-ii*^ :hu3 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 addi tional confirmation of them from the things above insisted on. But these things are a very strong confirmation of them : For, Firsij they show that the Author of nature is not indiffe? ent to virtue and vice. They amount to a declaration from him, determinate, and not to be evaded, in favor of one, and against the other : such a declaration as there is nothing to be set over against, or answer, on the part of vice. So that were a man, laying aside the proper proof of rehgion, to determine from the course of nature only, whether it were rhost probable that the righteous or the wicked would have the advantage in a future hfe, there can be no doubt but that he would determine the probability to be, that the for- mer 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 reUgion 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 gov- arnment. It will be that in ej^ecl, 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, oar experience of those kinds and degrees of happiness and misory, 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 reward- e y headstrong and self-willed, and disposed to exert them- Bolves with an impetuosity which would render society in- biipportable, and the living in it impracticable, were it not for some acquired moderation and self-government, some aptitude and readiness in restraining themselves, and cou- CHAP V,] M JRAL DISCIPLINE. 91 cealiiig ciisir sense of things. Want of eveij ' hing of this kind which is learned, would render a man as incapable of Bociety as want of language would ; or as his natural ignorance of any of the particular employirjents of life, v ould render him incapable of providing himself with the com- mon corveniences or supplying the necessary wanta of it. Ifi these respects, and probably in many more, of which we have no particular notion, mankind is left by nature an un- formed, unfinished creature, utterly deficient and unqualified, before the acquirement of knowledge, experience, and habits, foi- that mature state of hfe, 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 sup- plying those deficiencies, by acquired knowledge, experi- ence, 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 ac(]uainted 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 subordinations, to which they are accustomed in domestic life, teach them self-gov- ernment in common behaviour abroad, and prepare them for subjection and obedience to civil authority. What passes before their eyes, and daily happens to them, gives them ex- perience, caution against treachery and deceit, together with numberless Utile rules of action and conduct, which we could not five without, and which are learned so insensibly and so perfectly, as to be-mistaken perhaps for instinct ; though they are the effect of long experience and exercise : as much so as language, or knowledge in particular business, or the qualifi cations and behaviour belonging to the several ranks and pro- lessions. Thus, the beginning of our days is adapted to be, and is, a state of education in the theory and practice of mature life. We are much assisted in it by example, in- struction, 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 fof'3going many things which wc desire, and setting our- seLves to what we should have no inclination *o, but for the niicessity or expedience? of it. For that laboi and industry which the station of so mary absolutely requires, they v/ould be greatly unqualified for in maturity, as those in other sta- 5 t»8 OF A STATE OF [PART tions would be for any other sorts of application; if both were not accustomed to them in their youth. And according a« persons behave themselves, in the general education which all go tnrough, and m the particular ones adapted to parti- cular employments, their character is formed, an I made ap- pear ; ihey recommend themselves more or less ; jand are capable of, and placed in, different stations in the societjr of mankind. The former part of life, then, is to be considered as an im- portant 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. A.nd if we are not able at all to discern, how or in whal way the present Hfe could be our preparation for another, this would be no objection against the credibihty of its being so. For we do not discern how food and 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 much addicted, contribute to their health and growth ; nor, on the other, of the necessity which theie 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 respect the present life could form us for a future one, yet nothing w^ould be more sup- posible than that it might, in some respects or other, from the general analogy of Providence. And this, for aught I see, might reasonably be said, even though we should not take in the consideration of God's moral government o/er tbe world. But, IV. Tak3 in this consideration, and consequently, that the character of virtue and piety, is a necessary qualification for the fviture state, and then we may distinctly see how, and in what respects, the present hfe may be a preparaticm foi it ; since we loant, and arc capable of improvement in that char- acier^ by moral and religious habits ; and the pre( mt life is Jil to be a state of discipline for such imprwement : in like manner, t'lJAP. V J MORAL DISCIPLINE. 99 as we have already observed, how, and in what respects, infancy, childhood, and j^oulh, are a necessaiy preparalion, and a natural state of discipline, for mature age. Nothing which we at present see would lead us to the thought of a sohtary inactive state hereafter, but, if we judge at all f^oni the analogy of nature, we must suppose, accord- ing to the Scripture account of i*, that it will be a communi- ty. And there is no shadow of any thing unreasonable in conceiving, though there be no analogy for it, that this com- m^Anity will be, as the Sciipture 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 employuients of this happy community, nor our consequent ignoraaoe, what piuticular scope or oc- casion there will be for thu exeru&e uf veracity justice, and charity, amongst the meuiOm'Js ot it with regard to each other, any proof that ther; "wih oe no sphere of exevcise for those virtues. Much less, u that were possible, is our igno- rance any proof that there vvill be no occasion for that frame of mind, or character, which is formed by the daily practice of those particular virtues here, and which is a result froip It. This at least must be owned in general, that as the go vernment established in the universe is moral, the character of virtue and piety must, in some way or other, be the con dition of our happiness, or the qualification for it. Now, from what is above observed concerning our natu- ral 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 occa- sions 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, fiom the very constitution of their nature, before habits of ▼iftue, are deficient, and in danger of deviating from what is right, and therefore stand in need of virtuous habits for a se- curity against this danger. For, together with the general principal of moral understanding, we have in our inward frame various affections towards particular external objects. These affections are naturally, and of right, sulject to the government of the moral princiole, as to the occasions upon 100 OF A STATE OF [PART 1 whicli h(3y may be gratified, as to the times, degrees, and ;r'.-inner, in which the objects of them may be pursued ; but *.hen the principle of virtue can neither excite them, nor pro- vent their being excited. On the contrary, xhey are natu- rally felt, when the objects of them are present to the min l^ not only before all consideration whether they can be o> tained by lawful means, but after it is found they cannot. For the natural objects of affection continue so ; the neces- saries, conveniences, and pleasures of Hfe, 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 whatever cannot be obtained without unlawful means, but may be obtained by them, such affection, though its being excited, and its continuing some time in the mind, be as innocent as it is natural and necessa- ry, yet cannot but be conceived to have a tendency to in- cline 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 dan- ger, 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 se- curity against it. And this moral principle^ is capable of improvement, by proper discipline and exercise ; by recol iecting the practical impressions which example and expe- rience have made upon us ; and, instead of following humoi and mere inclination, by continually attending to the equity and right of the case, in whatever we are engaged, be it ic * It may be thought that a sense of interest would as efTectually restrain creatures Vroni doing wrong. But if by a sense of interest is nit-ant, a speculative conviction or belief that such and suc.^ indulgence would (xx;a- sion them greater uneasiness, ujxjn the whole, than satisfaction, it is con- trary to present experience to say. that this sense jf interest is sufficient to restrain them from thus indulging theiiisehes. And if by a sense of in- terest is meant, a practical regard to what is upon the wlwle our happi- aess, this is not only coincident with the principle of virtue or moral recti tude, but is a part of the idea itself. And it is evident this reasonable self- love wants to be improved, as really as any principle in our nature. For we daily sec it overmatched, not only by the more boisterous passions, but by curiosity, shame, love of imitation, by any thing, even indolence : eaue- cially if the interest, the temporal interest, suppose, which is the enuo( guch self-love, be at a distance. So greatly are profligate men mistaken, when they affirm they are wholly governed by interestedness and self-love And sohttle cause is there for moralists to disclaim thie principle. CHAP, v.] MORAL DISCIPLINE. lOj greater oi less matters, and accusloiiaing ourselves always to act upca it, as being itself the just and natural motive oJ action ; and as this moral course of behaviour must neces- sarily, under divine government, be our final interest. Thus the principle of virtue^ improved into a hahit^ of which improve- ment we are thus capable^ will plainly ie, in proportion to the strength of it, a security against the danger which finite crea^ tares are in, from the very nature of propension, or particular affections. This way of putting the matter supposes parti- cular affections to remain in a future state, which it is scarce possible to avoid supposing. And if they do, we clearly see, that acquired habits of virtue and self-government may be necessary for the regulation of them. Howeve^^ though we were not distinct-lj^ to lake 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 improve- ment in virtue ; and improvement in virtue must be advance- ment in happiness, if the government of the universe be moral. From these things we may observe, and it will farther show this our natural and original need of being im.proved by discipUne, how it comes to pass, that creatures, made up- right, fall ; and that those who preserve their .uprightness, by so doing, raise themselves to a more secure state of vir tue. To say that the former is accounted for by the nature of liberty, is to say no more than that an event's actually happening is accounted for by a mere possibility of tts hap- pening. But it seems distinctly concei\ able from the very nature of particular affections or propensions. For, sup- pose creatures intendsd for such a particular state of Ufe, for which such propensions were necessary ; suppose theiti endued with such propensions, together with moral under- standing, as well including a practical sense of virtue as a speculative perception of it ; and that ail these several prin ciples, both natural arid moral, forming an inward constuu tion of mind, 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 fmiie' \y perfect. Now, particular propensions, from th'^^ir very nature, must be felv, the objects of them being present, ihougii Ihey cannot be gratified at all, or not.wi:h the allowance .>i the moral principle. But if they can be gratified without its allowance, or by contradicting it, then they uui?'. be coii- ceived to have some tendency, in how low a degrei; soever, yot some tendency, to induce persons to such forbidden 102 OF A STATE OF [PART I gratification. This tendency, in some one particular pio- pension, may be increased, by the greater frequency of oc- casions naturally exciting it, than of occasions exciting others. The least voluntary indulgence in forbidden cir- cumstances, though but in thought, will increase this wrong tendency, and may increase it further, till, peculiar conjec- tures perhaps conspiring, it becomes effect ; and danger o. deviating from right, ends in actual deviation from it ; a dan- ger necessarily arising fi'om the very nature of propension. and which, therefore, could not have been prevented, though it might have been escaped, or got innocently through. The case would be, as if we wer^. to suppose a straight path marked jput for a person, in which such a degree of attention would keep him steadj^ ; 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 oven act of irregularity might disorder the inward constitution, unsettie the adjustments, and alter the proportions which formed it, and in which the uprightness of its make consisted. But repetition of irregularities would produce habits : and thus the constitution would be spoiled, and creatures, made upright, become corrupt and depraved in their settled character, proportionably to their repeated 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 be- haviour, by steadily foUowmg the moral principle, supposed *jy be one part of their nature, and thus notwithstanding that unavoidable danger of defection, which necessarily arose from propension, the other part of it. For, by thus preserv- ing their integrity for some time, their danger would lessen, Bince 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, vicious indulgence is not only criminal in itself, but also depraves the inward constitution and character: And vir- *tnous self government is not only right in itself, but also im- proves the inward constitution or character ; and may im- prove it to such a degree, that though we should suppose it impossible for particular affections to be absolutely coinci- dent with the moral principle, and consequently should al- low thai such creatures as have been abnve supposed would CHAP. V ] MORAL DISCIPLINE. 103 for ever remain defectible ; yet their danger of actually de- viating from r'ght may be almost infinitely lessened, and the/ fully fortified against what remains of it ; if that may be called danger, against which there is an adequate effec- tual 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 cieatures without blemish, as they came out of the hands of God, may be in danger of gomg 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 securi- ty, may be considered as a deficiency in them, to which vir- tuous habits are the natural supply. And as they are nat- urally capable of being raised and improved by discipline, it may be a thing fit and requisite, that they should be placed in circumstances with an eye to it ; in circumstances pecu- liarly fitted to be, to them, a state of discipline for their im- provement in virtue. But how much more strong 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 ? Up- right creatures may want to be improved ; depraved crea- tures want to be renewed. Education and discipline, which may be in all degrees and sorts of gentleness and of severi- y, is expedient for those ; but must be absolutely necessary for these. For these, diciphne, of the severer sort too, and m the higher degrees of it, must be necessary, in order to wear out vicious habits ; to recover their primitive strength of self-government, which indulgence must have weakened ; to repair, as well as raise into a habit, the moral principle, in order to their arriving at a secure state of virtuous happiness. Now, whoever will consider the thing may clearly see, that the present world is peculiarly fit to be a state of disci- pline for this purpose, to such as will set themselves to mend and improve. For, the various temptations with which we are surrounded ; our experience of the deceits of wicked- ness ; 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 Bight of it in others ; these things, though some of them may 104 OF A STATE OF [pART. 1. indeed produce wrong effects upon our minds, yet, v/hen du- ly reflected upon, have all of them a direct tendencj'^ to bring U5 'o a settled moderation and reasonableness of temper ; the contrary both to thoughtless levity, and also to that unre strained self-will, and violent bent to follow present inclina tion, 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 pas- sion, 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 becom- ing vicious, and wretched ; hath a tendency to give a prac- tical sense of things very different from a mere speculative knowledge, that we arc hable to vice, and capable of misery. And who knows, whether the security of creatures in the highest and most settled state of perfecti(m, 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 up- on our minds. But to be a Httle 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 have, 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 what ren- der the present world pecuharly fit to be a state of discipline to those who will preserve their integrity ; because they ren- der being upon our guard, resolution, and the denial of out 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 implying not only a real, but also a more continued, and a more intense exercise of the virtuous piinciple ; or a more constant and a stronger effort of virtue exerted into act I'hus, suppose a person to know himself to be in particular danger, for some time, of doing an}' thing wrong, which yet CHAP, v.] M<'RAL CISCIPLIISE. 105 he fiiDy resolves not to do, continued recollection, and keep- ing upon his guard, in order to make good his resolution, is a continued exerting of that act of virtue in a high 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 self-denial is essential to vir- tue and piety ; but it would have been nearer the truth, though not strictly the truth itself, to have said, that ii is es- sential to discipline and improvement. For, though actions materially virtuous, which have no sort of difficulty, but are perfectly agreeable to our particular inclinations, may possi- bly be done only from these particular inclinations, and so may not be any exercise of the principle of virtue, i. e. not be virtuous actions at all ; yet, on the contrary, ihey 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, of- tener repeated, and more intense, as it must be in circum- stances of danger, temptation, and diflicuhy, 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 respect to the moral char- acter ; which is scarce worth considering. And I mention it only, lest it should come into some persons thoughts, not as an exception to the foregoing observations, which per- haps it is, but as a confutation of them, 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 dis- tinctly, which is all that is intended by them,, that the pre- C*.nt world is peculiarly jit to he a stat^ of discipline for our im- prcvement in virtue and piety ; in the same sense as some »ci9nces, by requiring and engaging the attention, not to bo Bure 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, or the contrary, they seem to make it a disciplhie of vice. An-^ 5* 106 OF A STATE OF [PART I 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 being placed in such a state as the present, is not pretended to be accounted for. That vyhich appears amidst the general corruption is, that there are some persons, who, having wiihin them the principle of amendment and recovery, attend to and follow the notices of virtue and rchgion, be they more clear.or more obscure^ which are afforded them ; and that the present world is. not only an exercise of vittue 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 pf 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 nu- merous seeds of vegetables and bodies of 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 great- est part of them decay before they are improved to it, and appear to be absolutely destroyed. Yet no one, who does not deny all final causes, will deny, that those seeds and bo- dies which do attain to that point of maturity and perfection, answer, the end for which they were really designed by na- ture ; and therefore that nature designed them for such per- fection. And I cannot forbear adding, though it is not to the present purpose, that the appearanpe of such an amazing waste in nature, with respect to these seeds and bodies, by foreign causes, is to us as unaccountable, as, what is much more terrible, the present and future 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 beha- viour, 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, ia obedience, though it proceeds from hope or fear. And a course of such obedience will form habits of it ; and a con- stant regard to veracity, justice, and charity, may ftarm dit CHAP, v.] MORAL DISCIPLINE. 1?;^ tmct habits of these particular virtues, and will certainl)i form habits of self-government, and of denying our inclina- tions, whenever veracity, justice, or charity requires it. Nor is there any foundation for this great nicety, with which some affect to distinguish in this cose, in order to depreciato all rehgion proceeding from hope or fear. For veracity, jus* tice, 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 o<' them, and perseveres in it, as he has already in some degree, 80 he cannot fail of becoming more and more of that cha- racter, which is correspondent to the constitution of nature as moral, and to the relation which God stands in to us as rrioral governor of it ; nor, consequentl}^, can he fail of ob- taining that happiness, which this constitution and relation necessarily supposes connected with that character. These several observations, concerning the active princi- ple of virtue and obedience to God's commands, are appUca- ble to passive submission or resignation to his will ; which is another essential part of a right character, connected with the former, and very much 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 sup- posed desirable is not ours, begets extravagant and unboun- ded 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 tem- per of mind, which shall have been formed by patience. For, though self-love, considered merely as an active princi- ple 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 thing ; 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 absolute and uniformly coincident with the will of God. any more than particular affection can ; coincident in 8 108 OF A STATE OF [PART 1. 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 requi- site for all creatures ; habits, I say, which signify what ia formed by use. However, in general, it is obvious, that both self love and particular affections in human creatures, considered only as passive feelings, distort and rend the mind, and therefore stand in need of discipline. Now, deni- al of those particular affections, in a course of active virtue 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 alloted to us, i. c. to moderate self love. But the proper discipHne 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 consi- der 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 absolute- ly belongs to the condition of our being, as dependent crea- tures. 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 form ing within ourselves the temper of resignation to his right- ful authority, who is, by nature, suprem"e over all. Upon the whole, such a character, and such qualifica* tions, 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 general analogy to our condition in the present world, as in a state of moral disciphne for anoth- er. It is in vain, then, to object against the credibihty of the present life 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 loe were t he, was to be tho CHAP. V.\ mORAL DISCIPLINE 100 effect of 10 hat loe 'would do ; and that the general conduct of nature is, not to save us trouble or danger, but to make U3 capable of going through them, and to put it upon us to do so Acquirements of our own experience and habits, are ihe natural supply to our deficiencies, and security against our dangers ; since it is as plainly natural to set ourselves to acquire the qualifications as the external things which we Btand 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 williiu us, by attention, use, and discipHne, as any thing whatever is a natural law ; chiefly in the begining of life, but also through out the whole course of it. And the alternative is left to our choice, either to improve ourselves and better our condi- tion, or, i*n default of such improvement, to remain deticient and wretched. It is therefore perfectly credible, from the analogy of nature, that the same may be our case, with re- spect to the happiness of a future state and the qualilica- ti^ps necessary for it. There is a third thing, which may seem implied in the jsent world being a state of probation, that it is a thea- tre of action for the manifestation of persons' characters, with respect to a future one ; not, to be sure, to an all-know- ing 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 impossi- ble 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 acquain- ted 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 con- jectural 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 gene- ra* *.ourse of nature respecting mankind, which comes un- der our observation at present. I shall only add, that pro- bation, in both these senses, as well as in that treated of in the foregoing chapter, is implied in moral government ; since bj' persons' behaviour under it, their characters cannot but be manifested, and if they behave well, improved. UO OF THE OPINJON OF NECESSITlf. [PAHTjl ^^ / /Q^ ^ opinion of J^ecessity^ considered as fnffui^KiBg^. ur^c^^^/Ciyf? ^^ ^^-^CcA'^-'^'-^-^ Practice. "^ ^ue>^ 4r^.J2cijC> , . ''' '' '' ' 1 ^^ — Thkoughout the foregoing Treatise it appears, that th« P!f i/jtt^ ^Ij, condition of mankind, considered as inhabitants of this t ^ ,^ world only, and under the government of God which we y^iMMi pf^ /, experience, is greatly analogous to our condition, as design- ■jjjp l/ .^ f ed for another world, or under that farther government which /s ,' ^r' religion teaches us. ]f, therefore, any assert, as a fatalist ^ ^^ 't^iK < must, that the opinion of universal necessity is reconcilable ' , , , ''-cSc^r'feonstitution of nature, and how things came to he and to con- \ ' '^^ ** «'*<^-;ft'«we as they are ; but only an account of this circumstance ' ' '-/»^i t^^M'4:^i^ng to their origin and continuance, that they could not^, / •j^jjf- have been otherwise than they are and have been. The as- ' **^'^ / / Bertion, that every thing is by necessity of nature, is not an ^ /^iLnswer to the question. Whether the world came into being t/.cL'en4ife>it is by an intelligent Agent forming it thus, or not ; but j/^-^^to^uite another question, Whether it came into being as it ^^ i kI, mtnat way and manner which we call necessarily^ or in kjg/ TA that way and manner which we call freely. For, suppose ^ ^£^\rther, that one, who was a fatalist, and one, who kept to ^\_^- his natural sense of things, and believed himself a free agent. *tM^*'^^Vere disputing together, and vindicating their respective opinions, and they should happen to instance in a house, ^ ^ ,}hey would agree that it was built by an architect. Their ; '''^^- "• iligerence concerning necessity and freedom, would occasion U>^ no difference of judgment concerning this, but only concern- :$i,v^f%»CUhg another matter, whether the architect built it necessarily !*• /er freely. Suppose, then, they should proceed to inquire, \, /t^^n^^concerning the constitution of nature ; in a lax way of speak- 'Vdb ing, one of them might say, it was by necessity, and the ^vY/fTjI^ther by freedom ; but, if they had any meaning to their words, as the latter must mean a free agent, so the former t^ t'^-^t''«--T HOUGH it be, as it cannot but be, acknowledged, that • the analogy of nature gives a strong credibility to the gene- *^^^^^ ral doctrine of religion, and to the several particular things contained in it, considered as so many matters of fact ; and likewise, that it shows this credibihty not to be destroyed by any notions of necessity ; yet still, objections may be insis- ted upon against the wisdom, equity, and goodness of the divine government, imphed in the notion of religion, and against the method by whieh 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 wisdon* or goodness of it ; and analogy can do no more, immediate- ly or directly, than show such and such things to be true or credible, considered only as matters of fact. But, still, i^ 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 distinguished from a number of single unconnected acts of distributive justice and good- ness ; and hkewise, that it must be a scheme, so imperfectly comprehended, and of 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 sug- gesting the answer, and showing it to be a credible one. Now, this, upon inquiry, will be found to be the case. ' — For, f,rst Upon supposition that God exercises a moral gov- ernment over the world, the analogy of his natural govern- ment suggests, and makes it credible, that his moral govern- 124 THE GOVEKNBILNl Of OOD, [PilvT 1. rnent must l^e a scheme quite beyond our comprehension j and this affbras a general answer to all objections against the _^ justice and goodness of it. And, secondly^ A more dis/inct observation of some particular things contained in God's scheme of natural government, the like things being sup pos- ed, by analogy, to be contained in his moral government, will farther show \\ovi ittle weight is to be laid upon these objec- tions. 1. Upon supposition i*hat God exercises a moral govern- ment over the world, the analogy of his natural government sugg-^sts and makes it credible, that his moral government must be a scheme ([uite beyond our comprehension : and this affords a general answer to all objections against the jus- tice and goodness of it. It is most obvious, analogy renders it highly credible, that upon supposition of a moral govern- ment, it must be a scheme, — for the world, and the whole natural government of it, appears to be sr — to be a scheme, system, or constitution, whose parts correspond to each oth- er, and to a w^iole, 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 va- rious peculiar relations to other individuals of their own spe- cies. And whole s])ecies are, we find, variously related to other species, upon this earth. Nor do we know how much farther these kind 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 tc some other actions and events, so, possibly, each of them, when it has not an immediate, may yet have a remote, nat- ural relation to other actions and events, much beyond the compass of this present world. There seems indeed, noth- ing from whence we can so much as make a conjecture, whether all creatures, actions, and events througliout the whole of nature, have relations to each other. But, as it is obvious that all events have future unknown consequences^ 80, if we trace any, as far as we can go, into what is connec- ted with it, we shall find, that if such event w^ere not con- nected with somewhat farther, in nature unknown to us, somewhat both past and present, such event could not possi- hi}'- have been at all. Nor can we give the whole account of any one thing whatever ; of all its causes, ends, and ne- cessary adjuncts ; those adjuncts, I mean, without which it couid not have been. By this Uiost astonishing connexion, these reciprocal correspondences and mutual relations, evcrj? tHAP VII.] A SCHEME INCOMPREHExNSIBLE. 125 thing wnicn we see in the course of nature, is actualiy brought about. And things seemingly the most insignificant imaginable, are perpetually observed to be necessary condi- tions to other things of the greatest importance ; so that any one thing whatever me.y, for aught we know to tht contra-., ry, be a necessary condition to any other. The natural world, then, and natural government of it, being such an in- comprehensible 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 w^orld are so con- nected, as to make up together but one scheme ; and it is highly probable, that the first is formed and carried on mere- ly in subserviency to the latter, as the vegetable world ir> for the animal, and organized bodies for minds. But the tl ing intended here is, without inquiring how far the administra- tion of the natural world is subordinate to that of the moral, only to observe the credibility^, that one should be analagous 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 rnciTol administration, and to a general 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 evi- dent that we are not competent judges of this scheme, from the small parts of it which come within our view in the pre- sent 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 I*, are universally acknowledged upon other occas'.ons j anl, T26 THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD, [PART S though scarce denied, jet are universally' forgot, when persons come to argue against religion. And it is not perhaps easy, even for the most reasonable men, al' ways 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 oi* avlittle farther, in order to show more distinctly, how just an answer our ignorance is, to ob- jections against the scheme of Providence. Suppose, then, a person boldly to assert, that the things complained of, the origin and continuance of evil, might easily have been pre- vented b}' repeated interpositions ; * interpositions so guard- ed and circumstanced, as would prelude all mischief arising from them : or, if this were impracticable, that a scheme of government is itself an imperfection ; since more good might have been produced without any scheme, system, or consti- tution at all, by continued single unrelated acts of distribu tive justice and goodness, because these would have occa- sioned no irregularities : and farther than this, it is presum- ed, the objections will not be carried. Yet the answer is ob- vious ; 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 v/ould infer nothing more than that it might have been bet- ter. But, indeed, they are mere arbitraiy assertions ; no man being sufficientlj^ acquainted with the possibiHties 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 alledged, in things mu:>h Jess out of our reach^ of suppositions absolutely impossible and reducible to the most palpable self-contradictions, which not every one by any means could perceive to be such, nor per- haps any one at first sight suspect. From these things it is easj' to see distinctly, how our ignorance, as it is the corn- ,mon, is really a satisfactory answer to all objections against the justice and goodness of Providence. If a man, contem- plating any one providential dispensation, which had no re- lation to any others, should object, that he discerned in it o liisregard to justice, or a deficiency of goodness, nothing CHAP. VII.] A SCHEME INCOMPREHENSIBLE. 127 would be less" an answer to such objection, than oui igno- rance 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 un- acquainted with what is, in the nature of the thing, practi- cable in the case before us, then our ignorance is a satisfac- tory answer ; because some unknown relation, or some un- known impossibility, may render what is objected against just and good ; nay, good in the highest practical degree. II. And how little weight is to be laid upon such objec- tions will farther appear, by a more distinct observation of some particular things contained in the natural government of God, the like to which may be supposed from analogy, to be contained in his mural government. First, As, in the scheme of the natural world, no ends ap- pear to be accompHshed without means ; so we find that means very undesirable often conduce to bring about ends in such a measure desirable, as greatly to over-balance the disagreeableness of the means. And in cases where such means are conducive to such ends, it is not reason, but ex- perience, which shows us that they are thus conducive. Experience also shows many means to be conducive and necessary to accomplish ends, which means, before experi- ence, we should have thought would have had even a con trary 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, friend- ly and assistant to virtue, an^i pioductive of an over balance of happiness ; i. e. the things objected against may be means by which an over-balance of good will, in the end, be found produced. A ad, from the same observations, it appears to be" no presumption against this, that we do not, if indeed we do not, see those nieans to have any such tendency, or that they seem to us to have a contrary one. Thus, those things whicn v/e 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 means by which these wise and good ends are capable of being accompUshed. *23 THE GOVERNMENl OF GOD Y^'^^'"'- ' After these observations it may bi proper to add, in ordei to obviate an absurd and wicked conclusion from any oi them, that though the constitution of otir nature, from whence we are capable of vice and misery, may, as it undoubtedly docs, contribute to the perfection and happiness of the world ; and though the actual permission of evil may be beneficiaj to it, {i. e. it would have been more mischievous, not that a wicked person had himself abstained from his own wicked- ness, but that any one 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 theii own cures ; diseases which are themselves remedies. Many a man would have died, had it not been for the gout or fever ; yet it would be thought madness to assert, that sickness is a better or more perfect state than 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 aught we know to the con trary. And that there are such reasons, is suggested to oui thought s by the analor}^ of nature ; by our being made to experiei ,ce good ends to be accomplished, as indeed all the good w hich we enjoy is accomplished, by this means, that the lawH, by which the world is governed, are general. Foi 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 hkely to procure them : now this foresight could not be at all, were not the government of the world carrieu "^n by general laws. And though, for aught 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 aa they arise, by the wisest and best general laws, may be im- possible in the nature of things, as we see it is absolutely impossible in civil government. But then wo are ready ic think, that the constitiuion of nature remaining as it is, and the course of things being permitted to go or, ir other re- ppects, as it does, there might be interpositions to prevent jrregularities, though they co\ild noi have been prevented oi CHAP. VII.] A SCHEME INCOMPREHENSIBLE. 129 remediftd by any general laws. And there would indeed be reason to wish — which, by the way, is very different from a right to claim — that all irregularities were prevented or lefnedied by present interpositions, if those interpositions would have no other effect than this. But it is plain they would have some visible and immediate bad effects ; for ia- Btance, 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 13 carried on by general laws. And farther, 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 baa result might be prevented by farther interpositions, whenever there was occasion for them ; but this again is talking quite at random, and in the dark. 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 thig means, and, for aught we know, there may be the wisest reasons for it, and %he best ends accompHshed by it. We have no ground to believe, that all irregularities could be remedied as they arise, or could have been precluded by gene- ral laws. We find that interpositions would produce evil^ and -prevent good; and, for aught 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 in- telligible and sufficient ; and going farther seems beyond the utmost reach of our faculties. But it may be said, that ' after all, these supposed im- possibilities and relations are what we are unacquainted with ; and we mast 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 proofs of it, since their stress lies so very much upon ou* il^norance.' But, First, Though total ignorance in any matter does indceci equally destroy, or rati er preclude, all piooi concerning it, and objections against it, yet partial ignorance does not 6* i'*^^ THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD, [PAKi I. For we may in any degree be convinced, that a person is ol such a character, and consequently will pursue such ends, though we are greatly ignorant what is the proper way of acting, in order the most effectually to obtam those ends ; and in this case, objections against his manner of acting, as seemingly not conducive to obtain them, might be ans^^er- ed by our ignorance, though the proof that such ends were intended, might not at all be invahdated 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 go var- ment But we are not competent judges what is the proper way of acting, in order the most eifectually to accomphsh this end. Therefore our ignorance is an answer to objec- tions against the conduct of Providence, in permitting irregu- larities, as seeming contradictory to this end. Now, since it is so obvious that our ignorance may be a satisfactory an- swer 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 impossibilities, and unknown relations, might justly be urged to invalidate the proof of re- ligion, as well as to answer objections against it, and that, ill consequence of this, the proof of it were doubtful ; yet fitill, let the assertion be despised, or let it be ridiculed, it is undeniably true, that moral obligations would remain cer- tain, 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 firom 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. For, though it were doubtful what will be the future consequen- ces of virtue and vice, yet it is however credible, that they may have those consequences which religion teaches us they will ; and this credibiUty is a certain obligation i'ii point of prudence, to abstain from all wickedness, and tc live in the conscientious practice of all that is good. But, Thitdly, The answers above given to the objections against religion, cannot equally be made use of to invalidette the CHAP. VIi;] A SCHEME INCOMPREHENSIBLE. ISJ proof of it. For, upon supposition that God exercises a moral government ov^er the world, analogy does most strong- ly lead us to conclude, that this moral government must be a scheme, or constitution, beyond our comprehension. And a thousand particular analogies shgw 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 contra- dictory 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 compi'ehend 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 applica- ble to the proof of religion, as it is to the objections against it ; and therefore cannot invalidate that proof, as it does these objections. Lastly^ From the observations 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, yet are by no means taken merely from that, but from somewhat w^hich analogy shows us concerning it. For analogy shows us positively, that our ignorance in the possibilities of things, and the vari ous relations in nature, renders us incompetent judges, and leads us to false conclusions, in cases similar to this, in wMch we pretend to judge and to object. So that the things above insisted upon, are not mere suppositions of unknown impos- eibilities and relations ; but they are suggested to our thoughts, and even forced upon the observations 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 i I is not jiidgmg so, to take no notice of them. 9 CONCLUSION. The observations of ths last chapter lead us to considfll this little scene of human life, in which we are so busily en- gaged as having 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 wpi 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 mid- dle 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 shal/ be hereafter. And this scheme cannot but contain in it some- what as wonderful, and as much beyond our thought and conception,! as any thing in that of rehgion. For, will any man in his senses say, that it is less difficult to conceive how the world came to be, and continued as it is, without, thein with, an intelligent Author and Governor of it ? 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 Au- thor 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 Authof of nature and natural Governor of the world, is a principle gone upon in the foregoing treatise, as proved, and generally known and confessed to be proved. And the very notion of and intelligent Author of nature, proved by particular final t See Patt it chap, 2 134 CONCLUSION. [fart, l causes, implies a will and a character. Now, as our whole nature, the nat ure which he has given us, leads us to con- clude his will i.nd character to be moral, just, and good ; so we can scarce in imagination conceive, what it can be other- wise. However, in consequence of this his will and charac- ter, whatever it be, he formed the universe as it is, and car- ries on the course of it as he does, rather than in any othef manner ; and has assigned to us, and to all Uving 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 im possible, that creatures endued with reason could avoid re* fleeting sometimes upon all this ; reflecting, if not from whence 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. For 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 probabiUty that we shall con- tinue so ; unless there be some positive ground, and there is none from reason or analogy, to think death will destroy us. Were a persuasion of this kind ever so well grounded, thero would, surely, be Uttle reason to take pleasure in it. But, indeed, it can have no other ground than some such imagina- tion, 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 aflfecting each other mutually, that the dissolution of the former is the destruction of the latter. And there are remark- able instances of their not aflfecting each other, which lead us to a contrary conclusion. The supposition, then, which •n all reason we are to go upon, is, that our hving nature will continue after death. And it is infinitely unreasonable tt) form an institution of fife, or to act upon any other suppo- sition. Now, all expectation o^" immortality, whether more or less certain, opens an unbounded prospect to our hopes Mid our fears ; since we see the constif^^tion of nature is such «8 to admit of misery, as well as to be productive of happi< rART. I.J CONCLUSWA JOO ness, and experience ourselves to partake of both in some deg-ree ; and since we cannot but know what higher degrees of both we are capable of And there is no presumption against believing farther, that our future interest depends upon our present behaviour ; for we see our present interest doth ; and that the happiness and misery, which are natural- ly annexed to our actions, very frequently do not follovr till lo»ff after the actions are done to which they are respective- ly annexed. So that, were speculation to leave us uncer- tain, 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 w hich he 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 con- firm this from the constitution of the world, it has been ob- served, that some sort of moral government is necessarily implied in that natural government of God which we expe- rience ourselves under ; that good and bad actions, at pre- sent, are naturally rewarded and punished, not only as bene- ficial 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 reA\ arded and punished in a much higher degree than they 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 ta king place, it is by obstacles which the state of this world unhappily throws in its way, and which, therefore, are in their nature temporary. Now, as these things, in the natu- ral conduct of Providence, are observable on the side of vir- tue, so there is nothing to be set against them on the side oi vice. A moral scheme of government, then, is visibly es- labUshed, 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 't will be carried on farther 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 ;md general in- teiest, under the moral government of God, is appointed tc depend upon our behaviour, notwithstanding the difficulty vliich this may occasion of securing it, and the dangei of lo 13C CONCLLSION "^PARTl sing it ; just in the same manner as our temporal interest, under his natural government, is appointed to depend upon our behaviour, notwithstanding the like difficulty and danger. For, from our original constitution, and that of the world which we inhabit, we are naturally 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, tempta- tions to be unfaithful in this trust, to forfeit this interest, to neglect it, and ran ourselves into misery and ruin. From these temptations arise the. difficulties of behaving so as i*t secure our 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 clifficulty and hazard with regard to that chief and final good which reUgion layy before us. Indeed, the whole account, how it came to pass that we were placed in such a condition as this, must be be- yond our comprehension. But it is in part accounted for by what religion teaches us, t-hat 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 Uke 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 inten- ded to 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 fi» for what we were wholly unfit for before ; that, in particu- lar, childhood and youth is naturally appointed to be a state o' discipline for mature age ; and that the present world is peculiarly fitted for a state of moral discipline. And, where- as objections are urged against the whole notion of moral government and a probation state, from the opinion of ncces- sity, it has been shown, that God has given us the evidence, as t were, of experience, that all objections against religion on this head are vain and delusive. He has also, in his na- tural government, suggested an answer to ail our short sight- ed objections against the equity and goodness of his mora^' government ; and, in general, he has exemplified to us the fitter by the former. These things^ which, it is to be remembered, are matter* fARTl.j CONCLUSION. 13^ of fact, ougiit, in all common sensft. to awaken mankind, to induce them to consider, in earne&i, aieir condition, and what they have to do. It is absurd, — al3surd to ths degree of be-, ing ridiclous, if the subject where not of so serious a kind, for men to think themselves secure in a vicious hfe, or even in that immoral thoughtlessness which far the greatest pait 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 adminis- tration established in nature, and a future judgment in conse- quence of it ; especially when we consider, how very ques- tionable it is whether any thing at all can be gained by vice ; how unquestionably little, as well as precariouy, the plea- sures and profits of it are at the best, and how soon they must be parted with at the longest. For, in the deliberations of reason, concerning what we 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 uncer- tain, and short, are really so insignificant, as, in the view of reason, to be almost nothing in themselves, and, in compari- son 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. ,hat we are placed in a condition in which we are unavoida- bly inured to govern our passions, bj'^ 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 give a us by him ; and from the confirmation of the dictates ot reason, by life and immortality brought to light by the gospel ; and the tvraih of God revealed from heaven^ against all ungodliness and unrighte- sumess of men. * Part ii. chap. 6. THE ANALOGY OF RELIGION TO THE OONSTfrUTION AND COURSE OP .^ATuilS. PART II. OF REVEALED REL1G50N. CHAP. L Of the Importance of Christianitjf. Some persons, upon pretence of the sufficienc}' hi the light of nature, avowedly reject all revelation, as, in its very notion, incredible, and what must be hctitious. 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 sim- plicity of mind, can possibly think it so, who considers the state of rehgion in the heathen world before revelation, and its present state in those places which have borrowed no light from it ; particularly, the doubtfulness of some of the greatest men concerning things of the utmost importance, as well as the natural inattention and ignorance of mankind m general. It is impossible to say who would have been able to have reasoned out that whole system, which we call na- tural religion, in its genuine simplicity, clear of superstition j but there is certainly no ground to affirm that the generality could : if they could, there is no sort of probabihty that they would. Admitting there were, they jvouid highly want s P* 140 OF THE IMPORTANCE [PART II Btandmg admonition, to remind them of it , and inculcate it upoi them. And, farther still, were they as much disposed to a,ttend to reli^on as the better sort of men are, yet, even upon this supposition, there would be various Oficasions foi supernatural instruction and asistance, and the ^a'eatest ad vantages might be afforded by them. So that to say, reve* iation is a thing superfluous, what there was no need of, and what can be of no service, is 1 think, to talk quite wildly and at random. Nor would it be more extravagant to affiriTi^ th^t 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, wno seem to be getting into a way of neglecting, and, as U were, overlooking revelation as of small importance, provi- ded natural religion to 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 con- sidered, with regard to the persons who seem to be getting into this way. The consideration of it will, likewise, farther shov/ 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 com- manded those things which are commanded in Chris tianity» it i? evident, at first sight, that it cannot in any wise be an indifferent matter, whether we obey or disobey those com- ♦ Invenis multos proptcrea nolle fieri Christianos, quia quasi sulTv eiunt gibi de bot)a vita sua. Bene vivere opus est, ait. U,uid mihi pn» cepturus est Chri.«t,us7 Tit. benevivami Jam bene vivo. Cluid mihi necessarius est diristus 1 Nullum homicidium, nullum furtum, nulIaiB Ripinam hicio. res alienas non conciipisco, nuUoadulteriocontaminor. Nam iiivcniatur in vita raea aliquid quod reprehendatur, ct qui reprehendeiit h ciat Cljistianum.— ilu^. in Psalm xxxL ^AilT II.J W*" CHRISTliNlTY t4 m?-nds, unless we are certainly assured, that wi know ali the reasons for them, and that all those reasons, are now cease 1, with regard to mankind in general, or to ourseivos in particular. And it is absolutely impossible we can be assured of this ; for our ignorance of these reasons proves H )thing in the case, since the whole analogy of nature shows, what is indeed in itself evident, that there may be mfinite reasons for thnigs, with which we are not acquamted. But the importance of Christianity will ruore distinctly appear, by considering it more distinctly : Firsi^ As a re- publication, and external institution, of natural or essential religion, adapted to the present circumstances of mankind, and mtended to promote natural piety and virtue ; and se- condhj, As containing an account of a dispensation of things, not liscoverable by reason, in consequence of which several distinct precepts are enjoined us. For, though natural reli- gion is the foundation and principal part of Christianity, it is not in any sense the whole of it. 1. Christianity is a republication of natural religion. It instructs mankind in the moral system of the world ; that ii is the work of an infinitely perfect Being, and under his go- vernment ; 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 mate- rial, 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, farther, an authoritative publication of na- tural religion, and so affords the evidence of testimony for the truth of it. Indeed, the miracles and prophecies record- ed in Scripture, were intended to prove a particular dispensa- tion of Providence — the redemption of the world by the Mes- siah ; but this does not hinder but that they ma}' also prove Go him is plainly moral, as much as charity to man- kind is ; sinct; this obhgation arises, before exlernfil com- mand, immediately out jof that his office and relation itself Those persons appear to forget, that revelation is to be con- sidered as inforniinir u." of somewhat new in the sta'e of mafi- 148 or THE IMPORTANCE [PART 11 kind, and in the goverment of the 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,) tnere is no r<^*"=^;)n to think, but that neglect of behaving suitabij to them will be attended with the same kind of consequences under Goer's government, as neglecting to behave suitably to any other relations made known to us by reason. And ignorance, whether unavoida- ble or voluntary, so far as we can possibly see, will, just aa much, and just as httle, excuse in one case as in the other : the ignorance being supjiosed equally unavoidable, oj equally voluntary, in both cases. If, therefore, Christ be indeed the Mediator between Crod aild 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 wha may follow such disregard, even in the way of natural con- sequence. For, as the natural consequences of vice in this hfe are doubtless to be considered as judicial punishments inflicted by God, so hkewise, for aught we know, the judicial punishments of the future life may be, in a like way, or a like sen.«e, the natural consequence of vice ;| of men's vio- lating 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, and so are 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 a degree requisite to their being qualified for that state ; all which is impUed in the express, though figiu'ative, declaration, Ex- cept a man be born of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the king- dom of God ;J supposing this, is it possible any serious per- son can think it a slight matter, whether or no he makes use of the means, expressly commanded by God, for obtain- ing this divine assistance ? especially since the whole analo- gy of nature shows, tha: we are no* to expect any benefits without making use of the appointeu neans for obtaining oi enjoying them. Now, reason shows us nothing of the par- iCu»Ar immedla'e means of obtaining either temporal ci 1 Chap. 5. t John iii. 5, fHAP. I.J OF CHRISTIANITY. 149 spiritual berielits. This, therefore, we must learn, eithei from experience or revelation. And experience the present case does not admit of. The conclusion from all thi.s evidently is, that Christianity 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 1 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 embrac ing it, upon supposition of its truth. The two following deductions may be proper to be added, m order to illustrate the foregoing observations, and to pre- vent their being mistaken. First, Hence we may clearly see, where lies the distinc- tion between what is positive and what is moral in religion. Moral precepts are precepts, the reasons of which we see ; positive prtcepts 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 com mand ; 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 de- nommate 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 tlip. Son ; be- cause both arise equally from revealed command: though the relation which we stand in to God the Father, is made known to us by reason ; the relation we stand in to Christ, by revelation only. On the other hand, the dispensation of the gospei admitted, gratitude as immediately becomes due to Christ, from his being the voluntary minister of this dis- pensation, 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 * This is the distinction between moral and positive precepts, conFlder- ed respectively as such. But yet, since the kxtter have somewhat of a mo- ral nature, we may see the reason of tliem considered in this view. Mo- ral ind positive precepts are in some respects alike, in other respects ditler- ent. So far as they are alike, we discern the reasons of Loth ; so far as ■Jiey are diliererjt, we discern the reasons of the former, but not of the J««t JoO OF TtiE IMPORTANCE [PART II may see. and, for distinctness sake, it may be worth men* tionini^, that positive institutions come under a twofold con- sideration. They are either mstilutions founded on natura] 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 Jcsu? Christ ; or they are external institutions founded on revealed religion, as baptism m the name of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Secondly, From the distinction between what is moral and what is positive in rehgion, appears the ground of that pe- culiar preference, which the Scripture teaches us to be due to the former. The reason of positive institutions in general is very obvi- ous, though we should not see the reason why such parti- cular ones are pitched upon, rather than others. Whoever, herefore, 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 oi 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 be- tween positive and moral duties, that they be compared no farther than as they are different ; no farther 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 oat of the apparent reason ol ';he case, without such external command. Unless this cau- ion be observed, we shall run into endless confusion. Now, this being premised, suppose two standing precep's enjoined by the same authority ; that, in certain conjunctures it IS impc?sible to obey both ; that the former is moral, i. e. a precept of wnich we see the reasons, and that they hold in the particular case before us ; but that the latter is positive, i. e. a precejit of which we do not see the reasons : it is in- disputable that our obligations are to obey the former, because there is an apparent reason for this preference, and none against it. Farther, positive institutions. I suppose all those which Ctristianity enjoins, are means to a moral end ; and iiie end must be acknowledged more excellent than the means. Nor is observance of these institutions any rcligioua obedience at all, or of any value, otherwise than as it pro- ceeds from ^ liioral principle. This seems to be the strict CHa*. ..J o* LHKISTIANITY. l6i logical way of staling and deiermining this matter ; but vvi'l, perhaps, be found less applicable to practice, than may oe thought at first sight. And therefore, in a more practical, though more lax way Df consideration, and taking the words, moral law and fositivi institutions^ in the popular sense ; I add, that the whole moral law is as much matter of revealed command, as posi- tive institutions are ; for the scripture enjoins every moral virtue. In this respect, then, they are both upon a level. But the moral la\^ is, moreover, written upon our hearts, in- terwoven into our very nature. And this is a plain intima- tion of the Author of it, which is to be preferred, when they interfere. But there is not altogether so much necessity for the dc: termination of this question as some persons seem to think. Nor are we left to reason alone to determine it. For, Jirst^ Though mankind have in all ages been greatly prone to place their religion in peculiar positive riles, by way of equi- valen for obedience to moral precepts ; yet, without making any comparison at all between them, and consequently with- out 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 thf» whole general tenor of Scripture, and lik«}- wise 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 always puts the stress of re- ligion upon the latter, and never upon the former ; which, though no sort of allowance to neglect the former, when they io not interfere with the latter, yet is a plain intimation, that when they do, the latter are to be preferred. And, farther, as mankind are for placing the stress of their rehgion an}' where, rather than upon virtue, lest both the roason of the thing; and the general spirit of Christianity, appearing in the intimation now mentioned, should be ineffectual against this prevalent folly , our Lord himself, from whose command \lone the obhgation of positive institutions arises, has taken occasion to mabi the comparison between them and moral precepts, when the Pharisees censured him for eating with publicans and sinners ; and also when they censured his dis- ciples for plucking the ears of corn on the Sabbath day. Upon this comparison he has determined expressly, and in form, Vhich shall have the preference when they interfere. And 162 OF THE IMPORTANCE [PART IL by delivering his authoritative determination ir a pioverbial manner of expression, he has made it general : / will havt mercy, and not sacrifice* The propriety of the word prove? bial is not the thing insisted upon, though, I think, the man- ner of speaking is to be called so. But that the manner of spe-iking 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 dii ties to positive ones. And thus the dcjtermination 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 hte- ral 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 prefeiTed to positive in- stitutions, it will scarce be thought, that 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 of the forementioned occasions, with a declaration, that .he Pharisees did not understand the meaning of them. This, [ say, is very remarkable ; for, since it is scarce possfble for the most ignorant pers^on not *' understand the literal sense of the passage in the Prophet,"f and since understanding the literal sense would not have prevented their condemning the guiltless^X it can hardly be doubted, that the thing which our Lord really intended in that declaration was, that the Phari- sees had not learnt from it, as they might, wherein the gene- ral spirit of religion consists ; that it consists in mora) piety and virtue, as distinguished from forms and ritual observan ces. However, it is certain we may learn this from his di- rlne application of the passage, in the gospel. But, as it is oneof the pecuUar 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 aa of scarce any importance at all ; it is highly necessary that we remind ourselves, how great presumption it is to make light ♦ Matt. ix. 13, and xiL 7. t Bxm. li t See Matt ziL 7. ifUAF. I.J OP CHRISTIANITY. J 5^ of any institutions of divine appointment ; that our obli't'itiona to Obey all God's commands whatever, are absolute and in- dispensable ; and that commands merely positive, admitted to be from him, lay us under a moral obligation to obey then ; an obligation moral in the strictest and most proper sen.se. To these things T 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 deter* mining beforehand, from reason, what the scheme of i* must be * Indeed, if in revelation there be found any pas- sages, the seeming 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 presumption against an interpretation of Scriptures, that such interpretation contains a doctrine, which the light of nature cannot discover, or a precept, which the law of nature doe^ tiot oblige to. * See Cim9k H *^ 4 OF TH£ SUPPOSED PRESU31PTiON [PAIIT !L CHAPTER U. Of the Supposed Presumption against a Revelation^ coniid ered as JMiraculous. f lAviNG shown the importance of the Christian revela- tiurv and the obligations which we are under seriously to di Li.*ni to it, upon supposition of its truth or its credibility ; the ftext thing in order is, to consider the supposed presumptions against revelation in general, which shall be the subject of tliis chapter ; and the objections against the Christian in particular, which shall be the subject of some following ones.* For it seems the most natural method to remove these prejudices against Christianity, before we proceed to the consideration of the positive evidence for it, and the ob- J2Ctioi.T against that evidence. | It is, 1 think, commonly supposed, that there is some pe- f uliar presumption, from the analogy of nature, against the Christian scheme of things^ at least against miracles ; so as Uiat stronger evidence is necessary to prove the truth and reaity of them, than would be safRcient to convince us of other events or matters of fact. Indeed, the consideration of this supposed presumption cannot but be thought very Ir- Bignificant by many persons ; yet, as it belongs to the sub ject of this treatise, so it may tend to open the mind, and re- move some prejudices ; however needless the consideration of it be, upon its own account. I. I find no appearance of a presumption, from the anal ogy 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 righteous- ness, i. e. render to every one according to his works ; and that good men are under the secret influence of hiB Spirit • Chap. 3, 4, 5, 6 T Chap. 7. l)\AP. 11.] AGAINST MIRACLES. 165 Whether these things are, or are not, to be Ci. lied miraculous, is, perhaps, only a question about words ; or, hov.'ever, is of no moment in the case. If the analogy of nature rdises any pi-esumption against this general scheme of Chrislianitj^, it must be, either because it is not discoverable by reason or experience, or else because it is unlike that course of na- ture, which is. Brt. ^.j-alogy raises no presumption against the truth of this scbc.ne, upon either of these accounts. first, There is no presuraption, from analog^'-, against the tru'h of it, upon account of its not being discoverjible by reason or experience. For, suppose one who nevor heard of revelation, of the most improved understanding, and ac- quainted with our whole system of natural philosoph}^ and natural religion ; such a one cculd not but be sensible, thai it was but tC very small part of the natural and moral system of the universe, which he was accuainted with. He could act but be sensible, that there must be innumerable things, ^n the dispensations of Providence past, in the invisible go- vermnent 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 oiu' view, is but as a point, in comparison of the whole plan of Provi- dence, reaching throughout eternity, past and future ; in comparison of what is even now going en in the remote parts of the boundless universe ; nay, in comparison of the whol« 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 inniunerablc things in the constitution and govern- ment of the universe, which are thus bej^ond the natural reach of our faculties. Secondly, Analogy raises no pre- iSun^.ption against any of the things contained in this general doctrine of Scripture now mentioned, upon account of their being unlike the known course of nature. For there is no presumption at all, from analogj^, that the lahole course of ^'*ings, or divine government, naturalh^ unknown to us, anA every thing in it, is hke to any thing in that which is known and therefore no pecuhar presumption against any thing in ine former, upon account of its being unlike to any thing in 156 OF THE SUPPOSED PRESUMPTION [PART ii the latter. And in 1} e constitution and natural govoniment of the world, as well as in the moral government of it, \v« see things, in a great degree, unlike one another : and there- fore ought not to wonder at such nnlikeness between things visible and invisible. However, the scheme of Christianity is by no means entirely luiHke 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 di- vine mission, has been stated with great exactness by di- vines ; and is, I think, sufficiently understood by every one There are also invisible miracles ; the incarnation of Christ, for instance, which, being secret, cannot he alledged as o proof of such a mission ; but require themselves to be pro- ved by visible miracles. Revelation, itself, too, is miraculous and miracles are the proof of it; and the supposed presump- tion against these shall presently be considered. All which i have been observing here is, that, whether we choose to cnll every thing in the dispensations of Providence, not dis covevable without revelation, nor hke the known course of things, miraculous ; and whether the general Christian dis pensation now mentioned, is to be called so, or not ; the fore going 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 ; particu- larly, none against a revelation, at the beginning of the world; nothing of such presumptions against it, as is sup- posed to be implied or expressed in the word miraculous. b or a miracle, in its very notion, is relative to a course of nature ; and impUes somewhat different from it, considered as being so. Now, either there, was no course of nature at the time which we are spettking of; or if there were, we are not acquainted what the course of nature is upon the first peopling of worlds. And therefore the question, whether mankind had a revelation made to ^hem at that time is to be considered, not as a question concerning a miracle, but as a comr.ion question of fact. And we have the like reason, be it more or less, to admit the report of tradition concerning tliis question and concerning common n.attcrs of fact of the game aniiquity ; for instance, what pa) t of the earth was first people'!. Or thus: When mankind wtts first placed in this state, there was a power exerted, totally different from the present r::-r;so of natuio. Now, whether this power, thus wholly CHAP II.: AGAINST MIRACLtS, [57 aifierent fiom the present course of nature ; for we coftnoi properly apply to it the word miraculous ; whether t> is power stopped immediately after it had made man, or went on, and exeried itself farther in giving him a revelation, is a question of the same kind, as whether an ordinar}^ power exerted itself in s ich a particular degree and manner, or not. Or suppose the power exeried in the formation of the world be considered as miraculous, or rather, be called by the name, llie case will not be different ; since it must be acknowdedged, that such a power was exerted. For supposing it acknow- ledged that our Saviour spent some years in a course of working miracles ; there is no more presumption, w'orth men tioning, 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 one or two fewer ; in this, ti.an in another manner.' It is evident, then, that- there can be no peculiar presumption, C* .in the analogy of nature, against supposing a revelation, whyn man was first placed UDon the earth. Add, that there does not appear the least intimation in history or tradition, that rehgion was first reasoned out ; but the whole of history and tradition makes for the other side, 'that it came into the vvorld by revelation. Indeed, the state of rehgion in the first ages, of which we have any account seems to suppose and imply, that this was the origuial of it amongst mankind. And these reflections together, with- out taking in the pecuhar authority of Scripture, am.ount to real and 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 former part of this treatise ; so, hkewise, it has a ten- dency to remove any prejudices against a subsequent reveia* lion. III. But still it may be objected, that there is some pecu- liar presumption from analogy, against miracles; particuiai- iy against revelation, after the settlement and during the eoniinuance of a course of nature. Now, with regard to this supposed presumption, it is tc be observed in general, that before we can have ground foi raising what can, with any propriety, be called an argument fioin analogy, for or ugainsi revelation considered as some- what miraculous, we in-^it be acquainted with a similar ot ^58 OF TilE SUPPOSED PRliSL'MniON [PARl il, ,\iri.llel case. But the hisloiy of some other world, seeming^-^ in like circumstances with our own, is no more than a paraUf>^ case ; and ilierefore noihirig short of this can be so. Yet, could we come at a presmiipiive proof, for or against a revo' lation, from being informed whetlier such world had one, of not ; such a proof, being drawn from one single instance only, mrst be infmitelj' precarious. More particidarij : First of all, 7^here 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 CoRsar. or of any other man. For suppose a numbei of common facts so and so circumstanced, of which one had no knid of proof, slwuld happen to come into one's thoughts •, every one would, without any possible doubt, conclude them to be false. And the like n:iay be said of a single common fact. And from hence it appears, that the question of im- portance, as to die matter before us, is, concerning the degree of the peculiar presumption supposed against miracles ; not whether there be any peculiar presumption Jit all against them. For, if there be the presumption of millions to one, against the most conunon facts, what can a small presump- tion, additional to this, amount to, though it be peculiar? If cannot be estimated, and is as nothing. The only materia] question is, whether there be any such presumption against miracles, as to render them in any sort incredible ? SeconcUy, If we leave out the consideration of religion, we are in such total darkness, upon what causes, occasions, reasons, or cir- cumstances, 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 Aoni this, ioined with the foregoing observation, it will follow, that there must DC a presumption, beyond all comparison, greater, agains. the particular common facts just now instanced in, than against miracles in general ; before any evidence of either But, thirdly J Take in the consideration of religion, or the moral system of the world, and then we see distinct particu- lar reasons for miracles ; to afford mankind instruction addi- tional to that of nature, and to attest the truth of it. And ihis gives a real credibility to the supposilion, that it might be part of the original plan of things, that there should be mi- raculous mleipo:i';ions. Tlicn, lasihjy Miracles n.Ubt uoi be CakY. I!.] aGAIWST JIIRACLfiS 1^% compared to common natural events ; or to events w nich, 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 ap- "•':arances, suppose, as comets, and against there liemg any such powers in nature as magnetism an».} electricity, so con- trary to the properties of other bodies not endued with these powers. And before any one can determine, wneLher there be any peculiar presumption against miracles, more than against other extraordinary things, he must consider, what, upon first hearing, would he 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 day see. Upon all this 1 conclude. That there certainly is no such presumption against miracles, as to render them in any wise in-T-r ible ; that, on the contrary, our being able to discern reasons for them, gives a positive credibility to the history oi 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 k is not worth while to perplex the reader with inquiries into the abstract lature of evilence, in order to determine a que*- Udh, wiiich, vithoui such inquiries, wo see is of no irnpoP 1*'-^ T^?E CREDIUILITY OP REVELATION fPAIir U CHAPTER III. Of our Incaj njcily of Juds^ingf what were to he expected in a Revelaiio i ; and the Credibilify from Analogy, thai it must c&nlain Things appearing liable to Objections. Besides the objections against the evidence for Christianity, many are alleged against the scheme of it ; against the whole manner in which it is put and left with the world ; as well as against several particular relations in Scripture : objections dravvn from the deficiencies of revelation : fxoin things in it ap pearing to mcn/oo/is/iiiess;* from its containing matters of offence, which have led, and it must have been foreseen, would lead, uito strange enthusiasm and superstition, and be m.cicie 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 convincins: and satisfac- lor}'' as it might have been ; for this last is sometimes turned 'into a positive argument against its truth. "f" It woidd be te- dious, indeed 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 authority of Scripture, that it is not composed by rules of art, agreed upon by critics, for polite and correct writing. And the scorn is inexpressible, with which some of the pro- phetic 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 princi})al things of this sort shall be particularly considered in the following chapters. But my design at piesent is to observe, in general, with respect to this ---vhole way of argmnii, that, upon supposition of a revelation, * t Cor. L 18. ♦ See Chap. 6. CHAP. III.] LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS i(5l u ii* highly credible beforehand, we shoul I be incoivipetent jijdo-es of it, to a great degree; and that it would contain n:a,iiy things appearing to us hable to great objections, in case we judge of it otherwise than by the analogy of nature. And, therefore, though objections against the evidence of Chris- tianity are mcve seriously to be considered, yet objectiona agahist Christianity itself are, in a great measure, frivolcdsj ftlnriost all objections against it, excepring those which are al- hged against the particular proofs of its coming from God. I express myself with caution, lest 1 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 revela- tion 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 aflirm, 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 can- not but particularly wish, that the proofs might be attended to, rather than the assertions cavilled at, upon account of any unacceptable consequences, 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 nowise judges of many things of which we are apt to think ourselves very compe- tent ones. Nor will this be any objection with reasonable men ; at least, upon second thought, it will not be any objec- tion with such, against the justness of the following observa- tions. As God governs the world, and instructs his creatures, ac- cording to certain laws or rules, in the known course of i.a- ture, known by reason together with experier.ce ; so the Scripture informs us of a scheme of divine Providence, addi- tional to this. It relates, that God has, by revelation, in- strucied men in things concerning his government, which they could not otherwise have known, and reminded them of things which the}^ might otherwise know ; and attested the truth of thp whole hy miracles. Now, if the natural and the revealed dispensation of things are both from God, if they coincide with each other, and together make t ,p oi/e scheme 102 THE CREDIBILITY OF RLVELATION \ PART U bf Providence, our being incompetent judges ol ofje, must j[fiiv}<^r it credible that we may be incompetent judges also oi the other. Since, upon experience, the acknowledged con- stitution and course of nature is found to be greatlj different from what, before experience, would have been expected; and such as, men fancy, there lie great objections agtiinst . This renders it beforehand highly credible, that they may find the revealed dispensation likewise, if they judge of it as they do of the constitution of nature, very different from ex- pectations formed beforehand ; and liable, in appearance, to grea', objections: objections against the scheme itself, and against the degrees and manners of the miraculous interposi- tions, by which it was attested and carried on Thus, sup- pose a prince to govern his dominions in the wisest manrer possible, by common known laws ; and that upon some exi- gencies he should suspend these laws, and govern, in several instances, in a different manner : if one of his subjects were not a competent judge beforehand, by what common rules the government should or would be carried on, it could not be expected that the same person would be a competent judge, in what exigencies, or in what manner, or to what degree, those laws commonly observed would be suspended or de- viated from. If he v/ere not a judge of the wisdom of the ordinary admmistration, there is no reason to think he would be a* judge of the wisdom of the extraordinary. Vhe 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 ex- perience 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, con- cerning revelation. Nor is there any more ground to expect that this latter should appear to us clear of objections, than that the former should. These observations, relating to the whole of Christianity, are applicable to inspiration in particular. As we are in no sort judges beforehand, by what laws or rules, in what degree, or by what means, it were to have been expected that God would naturally instruct us; so, upan 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 ])roportion, it vere to be expected that this supernatural light and instruc CHaY . III.] LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS W6 tion would be afforded us/ We know not beforehand, whax deerce or kind of natural informuiion it were K^^. b ' >cpected God would afford men, each by his owiii reason and experi- ence ; nor how far he would enable, and effect^ial^y lifjpose them to communicate it, whatever it should be, to each other ; Qor whether the evidence of it would be certain, highly pro- bable, 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 of attaining it, reason, would be given us at once, or gradually. In like manner, we are wholly ignorant what degree of new know- ledge 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, to whom he should originally make the revelation, lor communicating the knowledge given by it ; and to secure Iheir doing it to the age in which they should live, and to secure its being transmitted to posterit3^ 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 evi- dence 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 wei^ to have been expected, that the revelation should have been committed to writing ; or left to be handed down, and conse- quently corrupted, by verbal tradition, and at length sunk imder it, if mankind so pleased, and during such tin e as they are permitted, in the degree they evidently are, to act as they wiU Bat it may be said, ' that a revelation in some of the above-mentioned circumstances ; one, for instance, which was not committed to writirg, and thus secured against danger ot corruption, would not have answered its purpose.' I ask, what purpose ? 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 de- tef mined beforehand. Now since it has been snown, that we have no principles * See. Chap. 6. 9* tO* THE CREDIBIIITY OF REVELATION [lAKtll of /oason upon which to judge beforehand, how it weie to ^r expected revelation should have been left, or what was mo^ suitable to the divine plan of go\'ernnient, in any of the fore- mentioned respects ; it must be quite frivolous to object after- wards 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 expecta- tions 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 : 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 ol 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 ; unless ihe 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 m.orality of it, but such as can show, that there is no proof of miracles wrought originally 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 human sagacity could not foresee. If it can be shown, that the proof alleged for all these is ab- solutely 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, reve- lation will stand upon much the same foot it does at present, as to all the purposes of life and practice, and ougl>t to have the like influence upon our behaviour. From the foregoing observations, too, it will folkr^, a/id those who will thoroughly examine into revelation will find it worth remarking, that there are several ways of arguing which, though just with regard to other writings, are not ap- plicable to Scripture ; at least not to the prophetic parts of it. We cannot argue, ^r instance, that this cannot be the sense CHAP, in.] LIABLE TO OBJECTIONS. 1(J5 or intent of such a passage ot Scripture, for if it had, it woulJ have been expressed more plainly, or have been represented under a inoi3 apt figure or hieroglyphic ; yet we may justly argue thus, ^ rith respect to common books. And the reason of this diftereiice is veiy evident ; that in Scripture we are not competent judges, as we are in common books, how 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 1 and scarce at all, how much more determinately or accuratelj' it might have been expreesed or figured 1 ' But is it not self-evident, that internal improbabilities of all kinds, weaken external pr-^bable pro S V 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 b}^ the most ordinary testimony ? and when it now has been made appear, that we scarce know what are improbabilities, as to the mat- ter we are here considering ? as it will farther appear from what follows. For though, from the observations above made, it is mani fest, that we are not in any sort competent judges, what su- pernatural 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 farther, and observe, that if men will be regardless of these things, and pretend to judge of the Scripture by pre- conceived expectations, the analogy of nature shows before- hand, not only that it is highly credible they may, but also probable that they will, imagine they have strong objections against it, however really imexceptionable : for so, prior to experience, they would think they had, against the circum- stances, and degrees, and the whole manner of that instruc- tion, which is afforded by the ordinary course of natvjre. Were the instruction which Goil affords to brute creatures by instincts and mere propensions, and to mankind by these to gether with reason, matter of probable proof, and not of cer- tain observation, it would be rejected as hicredible, in many instances of it, only upon account of the means by which this instiiiCLion is given, the seeming disproportions, the limita- tions, necessary condiiions, and circiuustances of it. For "♦t- itmice- Wordd it T>nt he ve been thouirbt hio'hly impv<^(ir»}. ardon immediately and directly upon repentance, or by the sole efficacy of it ; but tlien teaches, at the same time, what nature might justly have hoped, that the moral governn lent 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. Revelation .caches us, that the unknown laws of God's more genereu government, no less than the particular laws by which we 186 THE APPOINTMENT OF [PART II, experience he goA ems us at present, are compassionate * aa well as good, in the more general notion of goodness ; and that he haih mercifully provided, that there should be an inteiposirion to prevent the destruction of human kind, what- ever th.it destruction unprevented would have been. ' God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth,' not, to be sure, in a speculative, but in a practical sense, 'that whosoever believeth in him should not perish;' I gave his son in the same way of gooilness 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 have himself for us,' with a love which he himself compares to that of human friendship ; though, in this case, all com- parisons 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 jus- tice 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 intei*position.;j; If any thing here said should appear, upon first thought, inconsistent with divine goodness, a second, I am persuaded ♦ Page I28,&c. t John iii. 16. I It cannot, I suppose, be imagined, even by the most cursory reader, that it is, in any sort, affiripcd, or implied, in any thing said in this chap- ter, that none can have the benefit of the general redemption, but such as have the advantage of being made acquainted with it in the present life. — But, it may be needful to mention, that several questions, which have been brought into the subject before us, and determined, are not in thfe least entered into here; questions which have been, I fear, rashly determined, and, perhaps, with equal rashness, con traiy ways. For in- stance : Whether God could have saved the world by other means than the death of Christ, consistently with the general laws of his government 1 And, had not Christ came into the world, what would have been the future condition of the better sort of men ; those just persons over th« face of the earth, for whom Manassea in his prayer asserts, repentance was not appointed ? The meaning of the first of these questions is greatly ambiguous ; and neither of them can properly be answered, without going upon that infinitely absurd supposition, that we know the whole of the case.. And, perhaps, the very inquiry, what wotdd havt followed if God had not done as he has 7 may ha^e in it some very great irn))ropriety ; and oua;ht not to be carried on any farther than is neceft wry to help our partial and inadequate conceptions of things- CHAP, v.] A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 187 Urill eniirely remoVt; that appearance. For were we la sup- pose the constitution of things to be such, as thai the wholo creation must have yorished, had it not been for somtjwhat. which God had appointed should be in order to prevent that ruin ; even this sup})osition would not be inconsistent, in -my de- gree, with the most absolutely perfect goodness. But stiU it may be thought, that this whole manner of treating the subject be- fore us, supposes mankind to be naturally in a very si.range state. And truly so it does. But it is not Christianity \\ hich has put us into this state Whoever will consider the manifold miseries, and the extreme wickedness of the world ; tliat the best have great wrongnesses with themselves, which they complain of, and endeavour to amend ; but, that the gene- rality grow more profligate and corrupt with age : that hea- then moralists thought the present state to be a state of punish- ment; and, what might be added, that the earth, our habitation, has the appearance of being a ruin : whoever, I say, will con- sider all these, and some other obvious things, will thmk he has little reason to object against the Scripture account, that mankind is in a state of degradation ; against this being ^he fact: how difficult soever he may think it to account for, or even to form a distinct conception of, the occasions and cir- cumstances 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 throughout, 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, bettDee7i God and man, is thus represented to us in the Scripture : * He is the light of the world ;'* the re- vealer of the will of God in the most eminent sense : He is a propitiatory sacrifice ]'\ ' the Lamb of God ;'J and as he vo- luntdrily offered himself up, he is styled our High-Priest. § A nd, which seems of peculiar weight, he is described before, hand in the Old Testament, under the same characters of a priest, and expiatory victim. || And whereas it is objected, ♦ John i. and viii. 12. tRom. iii. 25, and v. 11. ICor. v. 7. Eph. v. 2. IJohn ii. 2 Matt. xxvi. 28. J John i. 29, 36, and throughout the book of Revelatioiv § Throughout the Epistle to the Hebrews. Ulsa liii. Dan. ix. 24. Psalrr ex 4, 10* 188 THE APPOINTMEiNT OF [PA»T U-. that all this is merely by way of allusion to thft sacrifices ci the Mosaic lav/, the apostle, on the contrary, alhrms, that the 'law was a shadow of good things to come, and not the very image of the things;'* and that the priests that ofter gifts according to the law — serve unto the example and shadow of heavenly things, as Moses was admonished of God. when he was about to make the tabernacle. ' For see,' saitli he. ' that thou make all things according to the pattern showed to tiiee in the mount :'| i. e. the Levitical priesthood was a shadow of the priesthood of Christ, in like manner as the ta- bernacle made by Moses was according to that showed him in the Mount. The priesthood of Christ and the tabernacle in the Mount, weie the originals : of the former of which, the Levitical priesthood was a type ; and of the latter, the taber- nacle made by Moses was a copy. The doctrine of this epistle, then, plainly is, that the l&gal 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 and determinate, than the follow- ing passage : ' It is not possible that the blood of bulls and of goats should take away sin. Wherefore, when he cometh into the world, he saith, Sacrifice and offering,' i. e. of bulls and of goats, ' thou woiddst not, but a body hast thou pre- pared me — Lo, I come to do thy will, O God. — By which will we are sanctified, through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all.'J 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 ;' t. c. without bearing sin, as he did at his first coming, by being an offering for it; without having our iniquities again laid upon /lini, without being any more a sin-ofFerinff ; — ' Unto them that look for him shall he appear the second time, without sin, unto salvation.'§ Nor do the inspired writers at all confine themselves to this man ner of speaking concerning the satisfaction of Christ, but de- clare an efficacy in what he did and suffced for us, additional to, and beyond mere instruction, example, and governmem, in a great variety of expression : ' I'hat Jesus should die foi 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 ♦Heb. T. 1. t Heb. viii. 4, 5. t Heb. x. 4, 5, 7, £ 10. Uleb. ir.28. 4 HAP. V.j A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 189 abroad :'* that ' he suffered for sins, the just for the unjust :'■* that 'he gave his life, himself, a ransom :';j; that 'we are bought, bought with a pdce:'§ that 'he redeemed us with his blood; redeemed us from the curse of the law, being made a curse for ujj :'|| tliat he is cur ' advocate, intercessor, and propitiation;' IT that 'he was made perfect (or consum- mate) through sufferings ; and being thus made perfect, ho became the author of salvation '** that ' God was in Chnst. reconciling the world to himself, by the death of his Son by the cross: not impulmg their trespasses unto them I'H and, lastly, that 'through death he destroyed him that had the power of death.'JJ 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 thmgs h\to his hands ; hath committed all judgment unto him ; that ail men should honor the Son, even as they honor the Father.'§§ For, ' worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to receive power, and riches, and ^v isdom, and strength, and honor, and glory, and blessing ! And every creature which is in heaven, and on the earth, heard I, saying. Blessing, and honor, 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 ex press the chief parts of Christ's oflice, 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 the way of eminence, the Prophet : ' that Prophet that should come into the v/orld,'l[ll to declare the di- vine will. He published anew the law of nature, which men had corrupted ; and the very knowledge of wliich, to some degree, was lost among them. He taught mankind, taught us authoritatively, to ' hve soberly, righteously and godly in ♦ Joi.n xi. 51 , 52. 1 1 Pet. ill. 18. } Matt. XX. 23. Mark x. 45. 1 Tim. ii. 6. S 2 Pet, ii. 1. Rev. xiv. 4. 1 Cor. vi. 20. (I 1 Pet. i. 19. Rev. v. 9. Gal. iii. 13. IT Heb. vii. 25. IJohnii. 1,2. **Heb. ii. 10, and v. 9. tt2 Cor. V. 19. Rom. v. 10. Eph. ii. 16. -JITIeb. ii. 14. See also a remarkable passage in the book of Job, cxxiii, 24. §^ Phil. ii. 8, 9. John iii. 35, and v. 22, 23. 11 II Pi >7. ' •• 12, 1 3. HIT John vi. 1 4. 190 THE APPOINTMENT OF [PART H. this present world,' in expectation of the future judgment ol God. He confirmed the truth of this moral sj'stem of nature, and gave us additional evidence of it ; the evidence of tesli- raony.* He distinctly revealed the manner in which God would be worshipped, the efficacy of repentance, and the re^ wards and punishments of a future life. Thus he was a pro« phet in a sense in which no other ever was. To 'vhich is to be added, that he set us a perfect ' example, that -ve shcfild 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 govern- m'3nt over it himself, and by his Spirit ; over that part of it which is^ militant here on earth, a government of discipline, * for the perfecting of the saints, for the edifying his body ; till we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge ol the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of tha stature of the fulness of Christ.'| 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 himself, that where he is, there they may be also ; and reign with him for ever and ever :' J p.nd likewise ' to take vengeance on them that know not God, and obey not his gospel.'§ 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 ex- piation were commanded the Jews, and obtained amongst most other nations, from tradition, whose original probably was reve- lation. And they were continually repeated, both occasion- ally and at the returns of stated times ; and made up greet part of the external religion of mankind. ' But now once in tne end of the world Christ appeared, to put away sin by tha 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 sup- posed to have thought their sacrifices to have been, and 'A^hicb ♦ Page 163, &c. t Eph. iv. 12, 13. t John xiv. 2, 3. Rev. iii. 21, and xi. 15. \ 2 Tlicss. i. 8. 11 Heb. ix. 26 CHAP. V. A MEDIATOR AND REDEEMER. 19 * the Jewish sa ^.rif.ces really were in some degree, and with regard to some persons. How, and in what particular way, it had this efficacy, thcr€ are not wantir.g 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 v/hich the ancients understood atonement to be made, i. e. par- don 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 uncer- tain. Nor has any one reason to complain for want of far- ther 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 Scrip ture 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 go vernment of the church ; whereas the doctrine of the gospel appears to be, not only that he taught the efficacy of repen- tance, but rendered it of the efficacy which it is, by what he did and suffered for us : that he obtained for us the benefit oi having our repentance accepted unto eternal life : not only that lie revealed to sinners, that they were in a capacity of salva- tion, and how they might obtain it ; but, moreover, that he put them into this capacity of salvation, by what he did and suf- fered for them ; put us into a capacity of escaping future pun- ishment, and obtaining future happiness. And it is our wi-s- dom thankfully to accept the benefit, by performing the con- ditions 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 ; noi m what manner it would have been inflicted, had it not been prevented ; nor al the reasons why its infliction would have been needful ; nor the particular nature of that state of hap- piness which Christ has gone to prepare for his disciples ; REVEL A.TION NOT UNIVERSAL: [PART II. CHAPTER VI. i)f tlii rjani of Universaliiy in Revelation ; and oj the sup posed Deficiency in the Proof of it. It ha.s been :hoiight 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 uni- versal, is often insisted upon as of great weight. Now, the weakness of these opinions may be shown, by observing the suppositions on wtiicn the}'- are ibunded, Vv'bjch are really such as these ; — that it cannot be thought Gul would have bestowed any favour at all upon us, unless in mo degree which, we think, he might, and which, we imagine, would be most to our particular advantage ; and also, that it cannot be thought be would bestow a favour upon any, unless he bestowed the same upon all : suppositions which v/e finct contradicted, not by a few instances in God's natural govern- ment of the world, but by the general analogy of nature together. Persons who speak of the evidence of religion as doubtfu\ and of this supposed doubtfulness as a positive argumeni against it, should be put upon considering, what that evidenct indeed is, which they act upon with regard to their tempo- ral 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. Th"^ are the like difficulties and impossibilities, in me,king he due^llowances for a change o/ temper and ♦astc, for satiety, disgust^ ill health ; any of which render men incapable of enjo3ang,Vfter they have obtained, what they most eagerly desired. ITiimberless, too, are ths accidents, besides that one of untim\h^ death, whicii 'ixiay even probably disappoint the best conoerter' schemes; anJ CHAP.VI.J SUFPOSEP DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF. 197 Strong objections are often seen to lie against them, not to be removed or answered, but which s/em overbalanced by rea- sons on the other side ; so as that the certain difficulties an-d dangers of the pursuit are, by eK-ery one, thought justly dis- regarded, upon account of ther/appearing greater advantages in case of succes^, though tkere be but little probability of it. Lastly, Every one observe/ 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 in- creased, if there be a stroijg bias within, suppose from indulged pasfeion, to favour the de'ceit. Hence arises that great uncer- tamty and doubtfulness of proof, wherein our temporal inter- est really consists ; what are the most probable means of attaining it ; and whether those means will eventually be successful, ^d numberless instances there are, in the dail3'' course of life, in -^hich all men think it reasonable to engage in pursuits, though the probability is greatly against succeed- ing ; and to make such provision for themselves, as it is sup- posable they may have occasion for, though the plain acknow- ledged probability is, that they nevei^^^i]^. Then those who think the objection against revelation, from its light not being universal, to be of w^eight, shoidd 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 bestov/ 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 ad- vantages. And as there are not any two men found of exactly like shape and features, so, it is probable, there are not any two of an exactly like constitution, temper, and situation, with re- gard to the goods and evils of life. Yet, notwithstanding these uncertainties and varieties, God does exercise a natural government over the w^orld ; and there is such a thing as a prudent and hnprudent institution of life, with regard tc our health and our affairs, luider 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, Rt different times, both revelations have had different degrees of evidence. The Jews who lived d'U'ing the succession of prophets, that is, from Moses till after the Captivity, had higher evidt uce of the truth of their religion, than those had who lived uj the interval between the last-mentioned period and the coming of 108 REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL : [PART 11, Christ. And the first Chrisiians had higher evidence of the miracles wrought in attestation of Christianity than what we have now. They had also a strong presumptive pi oof of the truth of it, perhaps of much greater force, in way of argu- ment, than many may think, of which we iiave very little rfr maining ; I mean, the presumptive proof of its truth from the influence which it had upon the lives of the generality of its professors. And v/e, or future ages, may possibly have a prooi of it, which they could not have, from the conformity between the prophetic history, and the state of the world, ami of Chris- tianity. And farther :?if .we weie to suppose the evidence, which .some have of religioti, to amount to little more than seeing that it may be trua bm that they remain in great doubts and uncertainties about/l3«th its evidence and its nature, and great perplexities conc^iylng the rule of life; others to havo a full conviction of theA/iith of religion, with a distinct know ledge of their duty ; i*M others severally to have all the inter- mediate degrees opreligious light and evidence, which lie be- tween these t\v4f!—U 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 glimmerings of this Ught should extend, and be directed, to remote distances, in such a manner as tliat those who really partook of it should not discern from whence it originally came ; that Bom.e. in a nearer situation to it, should have its light ob- scured, 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, pro- posed to their consideration ; and the ancient Persians and modern Mahometans may possibly be instances of people in a situation somewhat like to this : that others, though they have had the Scripture laid before them as of divine revela- tion, yet have had it with the system and evidence of Chris-, uarity so interpolated, *he system so corrupted, the evidencd CHAP. VI."] SUPPrOSED DEFICIENCY IN ITS I ROOF. 199 80 blended with false miracles, as to leave the inind in the utmost doubtfulness and uncertainty about the whole ; which may be the state of some thoughtful men in most of those na- tions who call themselves Christian : and, lastly , that others have had Christianity offered to them in its genuine simplicity, 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 sausfy 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 reli- gious light and evklence, which were intended to be afforded mankind, and of what has actually been and is their situa- tion, in their moral and religious 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 religion, but may be paralleled by manifest analogies in the natural dispensations of Provi- dence 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 should 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 should be made, and no more be required of any one, than what might have been equitably expected of him, from the circumstances in which ae was placed ; and not what might have been expected, had he been placed in other circumstances : i. e. in Scripture lan- guage, that every man shall be ' accepted according to what he hcd, not according to what he had not.'* This, however, doth not by any means imply, that all persons' condition here is squally advantageous with respect to futurity. And Providence's designing to place some in greater darkne.s3 with respect to religious knowledge, is no more a reason why Ihey should not endeavour to get out of that darkness, and others to brine; them oiit of it, than why ignoi'ant and sIo"w ♦ 2 Cor. viii. 12. 200 REVFLATION NOT UNIVERSAL : [PART U people, in matters of other knowledge, should not endeavom to learn, or should not be instructed. It is not unreasonable to su^Dose, that the ne me wise and good principle, whatever it was/Which disposed the Author ol nature to make different knids and orders of creatures, dis- posed him also to place creatures of like kinds in different situations ; and that the same pnncWe which disposed him to make creatures of different moral ca|mcities, disposed him also to place creatures of like moral capacities in different reli- gious situations ; and even the same oreatures, in different pe- riods of their being. And the account] or reason of this, is also most probably the account why the cd)nstitution of things is such, as that creatures of moral nattres or capacities, for a considerable part of that duration ifl which they are hving agents, are not at all subjects of mc/rality and religion ; but grow up to be so, and grow up to he so more and more, gra- dually, from childhood to mature age. What, in particular, is the !>ccount or reason of these things, wc must be greatly iii^ie dark, were it only that we know so very Uttle even of^oiir own case. Our present stale may possibly be the consequence of somewhat past, which we are wholly ignorant of; as it has a reference to somewhat to come, of whicjr' we know scarce any more than is neces- sary for practice A system or constitution, in its notion, implies variety ; and so complicated a one as this world, very great variety. So that were revelation universal, yet from men's different capacities of understanding, from the different lengths of their lives, their different educations and other ex ternal circumstances, and from their difference of temper and bodily constitution, their rehgious situations would be widely different, and the disadvantage of some in comparison oJ others, perhaps, altogether as much as at present, ^nd the true account, whatever it be, why mankind^or .suetl a part ol mankind, are placed in this condition^if'tgnorance, must I o supposed also the true aeeOtJnt of our farther ignorance, in not knowing the reasons why, or whence it is, that they are placed in this condition. But the following practical reflec- tions may deserve the serious consideration of those persons who think the circumstances of m.ankind, or their own, in tht forementioned respects, a ground of complaint. First ^ The evidence of religion not appearing o^viou8. may constitute one particular part of some men's trial 'ji the religious sense ; as it gives scope for a virtuous exercise, oi vicious neglect, of tb^ir understanding, in examinins: or no^ CHAP, ei.] SUPPOBEL» DEFICIENCY IN ITS PROOF. 201 examining into tiiat evidence. There seems no possible rea- son to be given, why we may not be in a state of moral pro- Dation, with regard to the exercise of our understanding upon the subject of religion, as we are with regard to om' behaviour in common affairs. The former is as much a thing within our power and choice as the latter. Aug? 1 suppose it is to be laid down for certain, that the same/character, the same inward principle, which, after a man is convinced of the truth of reUgion, renders him obediej^ri to the precepts of it, would, were he not thus convincedf set him about an exam- ination of it, upon its system and ^-idence being offer^^d to his thoughts ; and that in the latte/state, his examination w^ould be with an impartiality, seriousi^ess, and solicitude, proportion- able to w^hat his obedience is in nr^^iiWiier. And as inatten- tion, negligence, want of all serious concern, about a matter of such a nature and such importance, when offered to men's cor'=;ideration, is, before a distinct conviction of its truth, as real immoral depravity and dissoluteness, as neglect of reli- gious 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 with heedful attention to premises ; this as much constitutes religious probation, as much affords sphere, scope, opportunity, for right and wq-ong behaviour, as any thing whatever does. /And their manner of treating this subject, when. laid_befere them, shows what is in their heart, and is an ex^rti2ii-.e^t. Secondly^ It appears to be a thing as evident, though it is not so much attended to, that if, upon consideration of religion, the evidence of it should seem to any persons doublfal in she highest supposable degree, even this doubtful evidence win, however, put them into a s^eneral 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 him the great- est favor ; or, whether his whole tem^poral interest did not de- pend upon that person ; no one who had any sense of grati- tude and of prudence, could possibly consider himself in the same situation, with regard to such person, as if he had no eiich doubt. ln-4fttth74tJs_as_justJo say, that certainty and doubt are the same, as to say, the sifuaT!tms-4DOW mentioned voald leave a man as entirely at linerfv. in po?Vt of .gratitude 202 REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL '. [_PART iZ or prulience, as he.:^QiildJae, were he certain he had received I0^iai4rcfm stocIi person, or that he no way depended upoii h.m. And thus, though the evidence of religion which ja afforded to some men, should be little more than that they art given to see the 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 rehgious suspense and deliberation, for moral resolution and 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 giT^j^nccasion and motives to consider farther the hnportant subjec^jv4o preserve attentively upon their minds a general implicit senle^hat they may be under divine moral government, an awful &^itude about religion, svhether na- tural or revealed. Such a^rehension ought to turn men's eyes to every degree of newJight which may be had, from whatever side it comes, and mduce them to refrain, in the mean time, from all immoralities, ^nd live in the conscientious practice of every common virtue, ^specially are they bound to keep at the greatest distance froA all dissolute profaneness — for this the very nature of the case forbids ; and to treat w ith highest reverence a matter upon which their own whole interest and being, and the fate of nature depends. This be haviour, and an active endeavour Ao maintain within them selves this temper, is the business, Ahe duty and the wisdom of those persons, who complain of the doubtfulness of reli- gion ; is what they are under th/most proper obligations to; and such behaviour is an exert^n of, and has a tendencj^ to improve in them, that characte/ which the practice of all the several duties of religion, frop a full conviction of its truth. is an exertion of, and has a pendency to improve in others ; others, I say, to whom God has afforded such conviction. Nay, considering the infinite importance of religion, revealed aa well as natural, I thinlyi may be said in general, that who- ever will weigh the m«ater thoroughly, may see there is not near so much diffepemce as is commonly imagined, between what ought in reasoffi to be the rule of life, to those persons who are fully convinced of its truth, and to those who have only a serious doubtjng apprehension that it may be true. Theii ►lopes, and fea^, and obligations, will be in various degrees * but as the subjfect-matter of their hopes and fears is the same, so the subject-matter of their obligations, what they arebouni to do and to refrHin from, is not so very unlike. CHaP. VI.j SUl'POSEJ DEFICIENCY IN ITS PR > )F. 203 It Is to be ob^ved farther, that^vfrom a character if liiider- Btan«iing, or p. siuiat-ion of influenceSn the woild, some per- gons have it ifn their power to do infiniter^ more harm or good, oy setting an example of profaneness, anU avowed disregard to all religicni, or, on the contrary, of a serious, though perhaps doubting, ijiprehension of its truth, and,6f a reverend regard to it Linde/ Jhis doubtfulness, than thcj^^/tan do by acting well or ill in all f he common intercourses/eimongst mankind : ana ct>nscquentIV they are most highfy accountable for a beha- riour, which, they may easilj" foresee, is of such importance, and in which th(»re is inost pMinly a right and a wrong ; even admitting the evidence of v^igion to be as doubtful as is pre- tended. \ The grouniAof these observations, and that which renders ihem just and tkie, is,'thr-t doubting necessarily implies soraie degree of evidence for that of which we doubt. For no per- son would be iti ooubt concerning the truth of a nunjber of factsvsoand sdcircinn^aMiced, which should accidentally come hito his thoughts, anovpf which he had no evidence at ail.. And though in the case oJ^san CAen chance, and where conse- quently we were in doubt, we^iould ui common language say, that we had no evidence at alNfor either side ; yet that situa- tion of things which reriJers it Nn even chance and no more that such an event will happen, raiders this case equivalent to all others, where there is such evidence on both sides of a question,* as leaves the mind in doubVconcerning the truth. Indeed, in all these cases, there is no i^ore evidence on the one side than on the other ; but there is^Avhat is equivalent to) much more for either, than for the truWa of a number of facts which come in^o one's thoughts at randOhi. And thus, in all these cases, doubt as much presupposes evidence, lower degrees of evidence, as btilief presupposes higher, and cer- tainty higher still. Any one, who will a little attend to the na- ri.:e of eviience, will easily carr^^ this observation on, and see. that between no evidence at all, ond that degree of it w^hicb HiTbrds ground of doubt, there are as many intermediate nce our practice. For it is as real an impcrfe<3- ion in the m ^ral .'haracter, not tobe influenced in prac tice by fi Jl 2e men's 9wn Tank. For, If iheie are any jiersons, who never se: themselves heartily, and in earnest, to be informed in rchgion , if there are any, \vh3 secretly wish it, may not prove- true, and are less atten- tive to evidence than to difficulties, and more to objections than to what is said in answer to them ; these persons wilJ scarce be thought in a likely way of seeing the evidence of religion, though it were most certainly true, and capab.e oi 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 inadecjuate manners of expression, instead of the real things intended by them, (for signs often can be no more than inadequately ex- pressive of the things signified:) or if they substitute hiiman ei'rors in the room of divine truth ; why may not all, or any of these things, hinder some men from seeing that evidence which really is seen by others ; as a like turn of mind, with respect to matters of common speculation, and practice, does, we (J id by exjierience, hinder them from attaining that know- ledge and right understanding, in matters of common s})ecu- lation and practice, which more fair and attenti\e minds at- tain to? And the effect will be the same, whether their neg- lect of seriously considering the evidence of religion, and their indirect behaviour with regard to it, proceed from mer(; care- lessness, or from the grosser vices ; or whether it be owing to this, that forms, and figurative manners of expression, ais well as errors, administer occasions of ridicule, when the tilings intended, and the truth itself, woi.ild not. Jthm may indulge a ludicrous turn so faTj^as jtaJo&a.all sense of conduct and prudence in worldly j^ffairs^ and even, as it seems, to impair their faculty of reason. And in general, levit3^ care- lessness, passion, and prejudice, do hin^sler us from b^nng righth" informed, with respect to common things ; and they may, in like manner, and perhaps in some farther providential manner, with respect to moral and religious subjects ; may hinder e /idence from being laid before us, and from being seen when it is. The Scripture* does declare, ' that every one Bhall not understand.' And it makes no difference by what . * Dan. xii. 10. See also Isa. xxix. l.'J, 14. Matt. vi. 23, and xi. 25, •ml xxiii. 11, 12. John iii. 9. John v. 44. 1 Cor. ii. 14, and 2 Cor. iv! 4. 2 Tim. iii. 13 ; and that affectionate, as well as authoritative admo- nition, so very mac y times inculcated, * He that hath ears to hear, let hiin htar.' Grotius saw so a'jongly the thing intended in these and 208 REVELATION NOT UNIVERSAL: PART II provid .'iitiiil conduct this conies to puss; whether the evi dnnce of Chrisiianity was, originallj'' aiKl wiiii design, pui aixl left so, as that those who are desirous of evading- mora] obligaT'ons should not see it, and that honest-minded persons should ; or whether it comes to pass bj anj other means. Farther: The general proof of natural religion and of Chris tianitj, does, 1 think, lie level to comnion men ; even those, tile greatest part of whose time, from childhood to old age, ia taken up with providing, for themselves and their fomiiies, the COttiinon conveniences, perliaps necessaries of li^"'» • those I meun, of this rank, who e\er think lat all of askmg after proof, or attending to it. Common men, were they as much in earnest about religion as about thcjir temporal afl'airs, are capable of being convinced upon real ehidence, that there is a God who governs the world; and inej feel themselves to be of a moral nature, and accountablp 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 knkience of miracles wrought in attestation of it, and many tipoearing completions of prophecy. But i hough this proof ia real and conclusive, yet it is liable to objections, and may be, run up into difficul- ties ; which, however, persons who are^ capable, not only of talking of, but of really seeing, are cahmble also of seeing through ; i. e. not of clearing up and answering them, so as to satisfy their curiosity, for of such kiw)wledgp we are not capable with res])ect to any one thing in [nature ; but capable of seeing that tlie proof is not lost in these difficulties, or de- stroyed by these objections. But then ei thorough examina- tion into religion, with regard to these o not be the business of every man, is a n compass, and from the nature of it, requi )jections, which can- atter of pretty large es some knowledge. as well as time and attention, to see how the evidence comes her, and what, upon f persons who have ind take for granted ose from whom they hem, come to see, or out, upon balancing one thing with ano: the whole is the amount of it. Now, picked up these objections from others, they are of weight, upon the word of tl received them, or, by often retailing of fancy they see, them to be of weight, ■vl'ill not prepare them- selves for such an examination^ with a competent degree ol other passages of Scripture of the like sense, i^ to say, that the proo« given us of Christianity was less tlian it might have been, for tliis very purpose : Ut ita sermo Evangelii lanqxiam lapis essct Lijdius ad qiiem m genia sanabilia explorartntur. D-; Ver. R. C. 1. 2. towards the end. {HAP. VI. J SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY **N ITS FROOF. 209 knowledge. ; or will not give that time and attentiDn to the subject, which, from the ii^ture of it, is necessarj^ for attaining such information: in this base, they must remain in doubtful- ness, ignorance, or error | in the same way as they must with regard to common sciences, and matters of common life, if they neglect the neceskary means of being informed m ihem. \ But still, perhaps, it will be objected, that if a prince or canimon master were to senp directions to a servant, he would take care, that they should always bear the certain r:i-^"ka who the}^ came from, and that their sense should be ai-.Vuys plain; so as that there should be no possible doubt, if he could help it, concerning tl^e authority or meaning of them. jNow, the proper answer tokll this kind of objections is, that, wherever the fliUacy Ues, iv is even certain we cannot argue thus with respect to Him \tho is the governor of the world ; and particularly, that he dbes not af!brd us such information, with repect to our temporal affairs and interests, as experience abundantly shows. Ho\fever, there is a full answer to this objection, from the very nature of religion. For, the reason why a prince would givd his directions in this plain manner, is, that he absolutely de^.res.such an external action should be done, without conceri^ing himself with the motive or prin- ciple upon which it is done : i. e. he regards only the external event, or the thing's ftein^ done, and not at all, properly speaking, the doing of it, or the action. Whereas the whole of morality and religion consisting merely in action itself, there is no sort of paipllel between the causes. But if the prince be supposed tjb regard only the action ; i. e. only to desire to exercise, or in any sense prove, the understandhig or loyalty of a servant, he would not always give his orders in such a plain manaer. It may be proper to add, that the will of God, respecting morahty and religion^ may be consid- ered, either as absoliite, or as only conditional. If it be abso- lute, it can only be I thus, that we should act virtuously in such given circumstances ; not that we should be bi ought to act so, by his mianging of our circumstances. Ar.d 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 ^^«3ighty consideration. Or his will may be i-onsiflered only as- conditional, — that if we act so and so, we shall be rewarded ; if otherwise, punished : of which condi- tional will of the Auihor of nature, tl e whole constitution of t affords most certain instances. !s, as really as in- le two former are n practice ; men's will take due care 210 REVKLATWN .NOT UMVEKSaL : | PART 11 [.T})on ihe whule : That we are in a stale of religion neces surily implies, that we are in a state of probation; and the ciedibilitv of our beinjr at all in such a state being admitted, there seems no peculiar difficult}^ 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 Ihing to say, that the trial cannot equitlxblj be any thing, but whether persons will act suitablj^ to certain infomation, or such as admits no room for 'bubt; so as tjiat there can be nn danger of miscarriage, but eitner from thet not attending to wnat they certainly know, or from overbear ing passion hurry- ing them on to act contrary to it. For, sin^e ignorance and doubt afford scope for probation in all sens tuitive conviction or certainty ; and since t to be put to the same account as difficulties moral probation may also be, whether they to inform themselves by impartial consideratibn, and afterwarda whether they will act as the case requires, iiponthe evidence which they have, nowever doubtful. Andj this, we fmd by experience, is frequently our probation, in four temporal ca- pacity. For the information which we wajit, with regarJ tc our w^orldly interests, is by no means aU'^ays given us ol course, without any care of our own. Ana we are greatly liable to self-deceit from inward secret prejimlices, and also to the deceit of others. So that to be able to jAlge what is the prudent part, often requires much and difficult, consideration. Then, after we have judged the very best we caii, the evidence upon which we must act, if we 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 want of impartial consideration what we have to do, and venturing upon extra- vagant courses, because it is doubtful what will be the conse- quence, are often naturally, i. e. providentially, altogether as fatal, as misconduct occasioned by heedless inattention to what we certainly know, or disregariing it from overbearing passion. I Several of the observations here made miy v/ell seern strange, perhaps unintelligiblfc, to many good I men. But iJ the persons for whose sake tl ey are made, think so ; persona who object as above, and throw off all regard no religion un- der pretence of want of evidence ; 1 desire t,hem to consirlei ttjjam whether their thinking so, be owing to anjt thing umn tflAP T'.J SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN IIS PROOF. ^It 'lelligiblc in these observations, or to their o\vn 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 na- ture and conclition necessarily require us, in the daily course of life, to act upon evidence much lower than what is com- monly called probable; to giiari, not only against what we folly believe will, but also against what we think it suppc»sa- ble may, happen ; and to engage in pursuits when the proba- bility is greatly against success, if it be credible thai DO«Bibl>' we may succeed in them. 11* W THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE PART H, CHAPTER VII 0/ iW , a xiculm Fjvidence for Chrisiianiii/ The presumptions agj^'iist. .-ovelation, and objections againui the general scheme of Chrishanitj, and particular things re- lating 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 iho same kind of evidence, and the same kind of objec tions a'gainst it, that we have in the civSe before us. Now, in the evidence of Christianity, there seoi/is to be several things of great weight, not reducible to the head, either of miracles, or me completion of prophecy, in the common acceptation of the "W'ords. But these two are 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 j the conviction arising from which kind of proof may be com- pared to what they call th^ 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 appear- ing completions of prophecy ; and consider -w hat analogy sug- gests, in answer to the objections brought against this evi- dence. And, secondly, I shall endeavour to give some ac- count of the general argument now mentioned, consisting both of the direct and collateral evidence, considered as making CHAP. VII.] FOR CIIRISTIANiTY. 213 Up one argument; ihis being the kind of proof upon \\ hich we determine most questions of difFicuity concerningccmmon facts, alleged to have happened, or seemini? likely to happen ; es- pecially questions relating to conduct. Firstj I shall make some observations upon the direct proof of Christianity from miracles and prophecy, and upon the ob- jections alleged against it. I. Now, the following observations, relating to the histon- cal evidence of miracles wrought in attestation of Christia- nity, appear to be of great weight. ] . The Old Testament afibrds us the same historical evi- dence of the miracles of Moses and of the prophets, as of the common civil history of Moses and th(i kings of Israel ; or. as of the affairs of the Jewish nation. And the Gospels and the A.cts afford us the sam.e histoiical 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 rea- sonabl ^ man, if the authors of these books, like many othei historians, had appeared to make an entertaining manner of writing their aim; though they had interspersed miracles in their works, 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 won- ders and prodigies. But the facts, both miraculous and natural, in Scripture, are related in plain unadorned narra- tives ; and both of them appear, in all respects, to stand upon the same foot of historical evidence. Farther : Som.e •>arts of Scripture, containing an account of miracles fully sufficient to prove the truth of Christianity, are quoted as genuine, from the age in 'vhich they are said to be written, down to the present : and no other parts of them, material in the present questioH, are omitted to be quoted, in such man- mr as to afford any sort '^f proof of their not being genuine. And, as common history, when called in question in any in- stance, may often be greatly confirmed by contemporary or sutj.-?equent events more known and acknowledged ; and as thf! common Scripture history, like manj'- others, is tlais con- firmed ; so likewise is the miraculous history of it, not only in particular instances, but in general. For, the establish- ment of the Jewish and Christian religions, which were events oontemporary with the miracles related to be wrriUgut uj *»!• 214 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [PART U testation of both, or subsequent to them, these events are jus' what we should have expected, upon supposition such mira/ cles were really wrought to attest the truth of those rehgions. These miracles are a satisfactorj^ account of those events ,■ of which no other satisfactory^ account can be given, nor anj? account at all, but what is imaginary merely and invented. It is tc he added, that the most obvioi's, the most easy and direct account of this history, how it came to be written and to be received in the world, 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, m^y indeed be, and often is, the true ac- count of a matter ; yet, it cannot be admitted on the authority of its being asserted. Mere guess, supposition, and possibility, when opposed to historical evidence prove nothing, but thai historical evidence is not demonstrative. Now, the just consequence from all this. I think, is, that the Scripture history, in general, is to be admitted as an au- thentic genuine history, till somewhat positive be alleged sufficient to invalidate it. But no man will deny the conse quence 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 incredibihty in the things related, or inconsistence in the general turn of the his- tory,* would prove it to be of no authority.. But since, upon the face of the matter, upon a first and general view, the ap- pearance is, that it is an authentic history, it cannot be deter- mined to be fictitious without some pre of 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 epistolary writing, and moreover, from several of them being written, not to particular persons, but to churches, carry in them evi- dences 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 oi the New Testament, seems not to leave so much as finy par ticular pretence for denying their genuineness, considered aa 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 s^eneral doubts raised con- .•HAP. VJI.j FOR CHRISTIANITY 21^ f eniing it, from tht very nature of hiimari affairs and human testimony. There is also to be mentioned, a distinct and par- ticular evidence of the genuineness of the epistle chiefly re- ferred to here, the first to the Corinihians ; liom the manner in which it is quoted by Clemens Romanus, in an epistit of his own to that church * Now, these epistles afford a proof of Christianity, detached from all others, which is, I think, a thing of weight ; and also a proof of a nature and kind pe- CMliar to itself For, In them the author declares that he received the gospel in general, and the institution of the communion in particular, not from the rest of the Apostles, or jointly together with them, but alone from Christ himself ; whom he declares, hke- wiye conformably to the history in the Acts, that he saw after his ascension. "I" So that the testimony of St Paul is to bo considered, as detached from that of the rest of the Apostles. And he declares farther, that he was endued with a power of working miracles, as what was publicly known to those very people ; speaks of frequent 9.nd great variety of miracu (ous gifts, as then subsisting in those very churches to which tie was writing; which he was reproving for several irregu larities ; and where he had personal opposers : he mentions 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. J And this, as has been observed by several persons, is surely a \^ry considerable thing. 3. It 13 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, ipon the pre- tence of miracles, publicly wrought to attest the truth of it, in BUcTn an age ; and that it was actually received by great f.mmbeisin that very age, and upon the professed belief of the reality of these miracles. And Christianity, including the dis- pensutior. of the Old Testament, seems distinguished by this Srom all other religions. I mean, that this does not appeat * Clem, Rom. Ep. i. c. 47. t Gal. i. 1 Cor. xi. 23, &c. 1 Cor. xv. 8. t Rom. XV. 19. 1 Cor. xii. 8, 9, 10—28, &c. and chap. xiii. I, 2, 9 And tl)e whole xivth chap. 2 Cer. xii. 12, 13. Gal. lii. 2, 5. 216 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [PART II tc be the case with regard to any other : for surelj it will not be supposed to lie upon any person, to prove, by positive his- torical e/idence, that it was not. It does in no sort appear that Mahometanism was first received in the world upon tlie foot of supposed miracles,* i. e. public ones : for, as rGvelati©r is itself miraculous, all pretence to it must necessarily imply 6ome pretv,nce 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 insti- tutions had obtained, are not to the purpose ; so, were there what might be called historical proof, that any of them were introduced by a supposed divine command, believed to be at- tested by miracles, these would not be in any wise parallel. For single things of this sort are easy to be accounted for, after parties are formed, and have power in their haiids ; and the leaders of them are in veneration with the multitude ; and political interests are blended with religious claims, and religious distinctions. Butt before any thing of t)rs kind, for a few persons, and those of the loudest rank, all at once to bimg 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 reli- gion. 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 em- bracing 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 coimtry, in which they had been educate.] ; separate themselves from their friends, particularly in their festival shows and solemnities, to which the comma") people are so greatly addicted, and which were of a natura lo engage them much more than any thing of that 8CTl amongst us ; and embrace a religion which could not but ex^ pose them to many ".nconveniences, and indeed must l.ave been a giving up liie world in a great degree, even from the very first, an-' cefore the empire engaged in form against 'heui;' it cannot be supposed, that such munbers should * See the Koran, chap. xiii. and cha CHAP VII.] FOR CHRISTIANITY. 217 make so great, and, to saj the least,*so inconvenient a change ill their whole institution of life, unless they were realij con- vinced of the truth of those miracles, upon the knowledge or belief of which they professed to make it. And it will, 1 sup- pose, readily be acknowledged, that the generality of the first converts to Christianity must have believed them ; that fts, hy becoming Christians, they declared to the woild they were satisfied of the truth of those miracles, so this declara- tion 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 rome down to us. And it is real evidence, because it is of facts, which they had capa- city 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 m? und is acknowledged, and the suspicions of mankind ' ^ght 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 authoiity, were against Chris- tianity, in the age I am speaking of. So that the immediate conversion of such numbers, is a real presumption of some- what more than human in this matter : I say presumption, for it is 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, both direct and circumstantial, of miracle* wrought in attestation of Chrisfianity, collected by those who have writ upon the sub- jeo; ; 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 as^ainst this evidence, sufficient, 10 218 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [lART II III reason, to destroy the credit of il? However, iml Kilicvera seem to take upon them the part of showing '.hat th<*re are. They allege, that numberless enthusiastic people, ir difterenl a^es and countries, expose themselves to the same c'ifFiculties which the primitive Christians did ; and are ready to give up thoir lives, for the most idle follies imaginable. But it is noi very clear, to what purpose this objection is brought ; fo^ ^very one, surely, in every case, must distinguish between opinions and facts. And though testimony is no proof of en- Ur.isi?.stb opinions, or any opinions at ah ; yet, it is allowed, in Ail other cases to be a proof of facts. And a person's laying aown his life in attestation of facts or of opinions, is the strongest proof of his believing them. And if the apostles itnd their contemporaries did believe the facts, in attestation ol which they exposed themselves to sufferings and death this tneir belief, or rather knowledge, must be a proof of those facts ; for they were such as come 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 tney were not eye-witnesses of those facts, as were the apostles and their contemporaries, had, however, full oppor- tunity to inform themselves, whether they were true c not, and give equal proof of their believing them to be true. But enthusiasm, it is said, greatly weakens the evidence Oi testimony even for facts, in matters relating to religion ; some seem to think, it totally and absolutely destroys the evidence of testimony upon the subject. And, indeed, the powers of enthu- siasm, and of diseases, 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 nl the strongest kind we can have for any matter of fact. Yet, possibl}'' 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 £:£counted for by enthusiasm ; for it seems as if no other imagi: lable ac- count wore to be given of it. But till such incredibility be shown, cv contrary testimony produced, it cannot surely b< expected, that so far-fetched, so indirect and wonderful an ac count of such testimony, as that of enthusiasm must be ; an account so strange, that the generality of mankind can soaro' CHAP. VII. J FOR CHRISTIANITY. 219 be made tc understand what is meant bj it ; it cannot, 1 say be expected, that such account will be admitted of such evi dence, when there is this direct, easy, and obvious accoimt of it, that people really saw and heard a thing not incredible whic I 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 testi- monj^, it is manifest that the very mention of it goes upon the previous supposition, tha^t the things so attested are incredi- ble ; and therefore, need not be considered, till they are shown to be so. Much less need it be considered, after the contrary has been proved. And 1 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 enthusi- asm, it may just be observed, that prejudices almost without number and without name, romance, affectation, humour, a desire to engage attention or to surprise, the party-spirit, cus- tom, little competitions, unaccountable Hkings and dislikings ; these influence men strongly in common matters. And as these prejudices are often scarce known or reflected upon by 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 farther, in a more refined way of observa- tion, that though it should be proved, that the apostles and first Christians could not, in some respects, be deceived them- selves, and, in other respects, cannot be thought to have in- tended 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, t. e. in other respects, be deceived themselves, and in part also designedly impose upon others ; whith, it is added, is a thing verj'' credi- ble, 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 mankiai, is not to be denied ; and that somewhat very much akin to *t, is often supposed in Scripture as a very common case, ani most severely reproved. But it were to huve been expected, that persons capable of apply'ng this obs(;rv^ation aa applied in the objection, might also fre([uently have met with the like mixed character, in instances where religion was quite cuf of th3 case. The thing plainly is, that mankind are 220 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [PART U latiirall/ endued with reason, or a capacily of distinguishing betweon truth and falsehood ; and as naturally they are en- dued Willi veracity, or a regard to truth in what they say, but from many occasions, they are liable to be prejudiced, and biassed, and deceived themselves, and capable of intend- ing to deceive others, in every ditferent degree ; insomuch that, as we are all liable to be deceived by prejudice, so like- wise it seems to be not an uncommon thing, f* persons, who, from their regard to truth, would pot invent a lie entirely v.'ithout any foundation at all, to propagate it with heighter ing circumstances, after it is once invented and set agoing. And others, though they would not propagate a he, yet, which is a lower degree of falsehood, will let it pass without contradiction. But, notwithstanding all this, human testi- mony remains still a natural ground of assent ; and this assent, a natural principle of action. It is objected farther, that however it has happened, the fact is, that mankind have, in diiferent ages, been strangely deluded with pretences to mkacles and wonders. But it i? by no means to be admitted, that they have been oftener, oi are at all more liable to be deceived by these pxetences, than by others. It is added, that there is a ver}' considerable degree of his- torical evidence for miracles, which are on all hands acknow- ledged to be fabulous. But suppose there were even 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, the evidence of the latter is not to be admitted. Nor is there a man in the world w^ho, 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 over- balanced, destroys the cxedibility of cfher evidence, neither confuted nor overbalanced ? To argue, tnat because there is, if thsrs were, hke evidence from testimony, for miracles ac- knowledged 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 reputiition had given e\idence in different cases no way con- nected, and one of them had been convicted of perjury, this confuted the testimony of the other. Ujion the wh jle, then, the general observation that human creatures are sc liable to be deceived, from enthusiasm in re- ligion, and principles equivalent to enthusiasm in commor CHAP. TII.J FOR CHRISTIANITY. 221 matters, and in both from negligence ; and that they are so capable of dishonestly endeavouring to deceive Dth(?rs ; this does indeed weaken the evidence of testimony in all cases, but does not destroy it in any. And these things wi.l appear, to different men, to weaken the evidence of test;r.iony, in different degrees ; in degrees proportionable to the observa- tions they have made, or the notions they have any waj? taken up, concerning the weakness, and negUgence, and dis- honesty of mankind ; or concerning the powers of enthusi- asm, 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, w-hich we have of the truth of Christianity. Nothing can destroy the evidence of testimony in any case, but a proof or probalulity, that persons are not competent judges of the facts to which they give testimony ; or that they are actually under some indu-ect 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, espe- cially in matters of religion, that one knows not what to be- lieve. 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 malce this reflection, that it is, on such a subject, a very material one.* And over against all these objections, is to be set the im portance of Christianity, as w^hat must have engaged the at- tention of its first converts, so as to have rendered them less liable to be deceived from carelessness, than thfey would in common matters ; and likewise the strong obligations to ve- racity, which their religion laid them under: so that th.e first Rnd most ob/ious presumption is, that they could not be de- ceived themselves, nor would deceive others. And this pre- sumption, 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 thej'' are necessary, and necessary to be lepeaied, in order to connect a discourse, and distinctly (o lay before the * See the foregoing chapter. 222 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE (PARTIi view of the reader what is proposed to be proved, and what i» left as proved. Now, the conclusion from the foregoing obser- vations is, I think, bejond all doubt, this : that unbelievers must be forced to admit the external evidence for Christianity i. e. the proof of miracles wrought to attest it, to be of reai 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 ;, these of thern, I mean, who know any thing at all ::f the matter : in like manner as persons, in many cases, own, they see scrong 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 U> that which we have been con- sidering ; and it has been fully proved, that there is no incredi- bility in Christianity in general, or in any part of it. II. As to the evidence for Christianity from prophecy, 1 shall only make some few general observations, which are suggested by the analogy of nature ; i. e. by the acknow- ledged natural rules of judging in common matters, concern ing 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 one's self to set down an instance in common matters, to exemplify it. However, suppose a writing, partly in cypher, 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 urider- standing the whole, (the whole, suppose, of a sentence cr a paragraph,) might sometimes occasion a doubt, whether one understood the literal meaning of such a part ; but this cornea under another consideration. For the same reason though a man should be incapal '« CHAP. VII.J FOR CHRISTIAN ilY. '223 for want of learning, or op|«ortunities of inoairy, or from nw naving turned his studies this way, even so much as to judge wheth':)r particular prophecies ha\e been throughout com- pletely fulfilled ; yet he may see, ir 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 pro- phecies, and of such events being intended by them. For the same reason also, though, by means of the deficiencies in ^ivil 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 throughout fulfilled ; 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, v/ill show. This observation I make in answer to the common objection against the applica- tion 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 Chris- tians ; and, therefore, it is to be supposed, that, if they meant any thing, they were intended of other events unknown to us, and not of these at all. Now, there are two kinds of wTiting, which bear a great roscmb lance to prophecy, wi n respect to the matter before us ; the mythological and the satirical, where the satire is, to d certain degree, concealed. And a man might be assured, that he understood what an author intended by a fable or Darabie, related without any application or moral, merely fron seeing it to be easily capable of such application, and tha: such a mora) might naturally be deduced from it. And fee might be fully assured, that such persons and events were intended in a s'itirical writing, merely from its being appuca- ble to them. And, agreeably to the last observation, he mii^lnt be in a good measure satisfied of it, tl ough he were aot enough informed in affairps, or in the story of such persons, to understand half the satire. For, his satisfaction, that he understood the meaning, the intended meamng, of t^'liese writings, should be greater or less, in proportion as he saw the genernl turn of them to be capable of such applica'ion and 524 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE f PART H jn proportion to the number of particular things capable of it And thus, if a long series of pre phecy is applicable to the present state of the church, and ,o the political sii nations o the kingdoms of the world, some thousand years after these prO])hecies were delivered, and a long series of prophecy de* livered before the comuig 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 aa the gene:?, turn of it is capable of such application, and to the numbci 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 explara tory of, and to determine their meaning ; yet it is to be re membered farther, that the ancient Jews applied the prophe- cies to a Messiah before his coming, in much the same man- ner as Christians do now ; and that the primitive Christians interpreted the prophecies respecting the state of the church and of the world m the last ages, in the sense which the event seems to confirm and verify. And from these things it may be made 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 Chris- tians allege to be Completions of those predictions ; or that such and such prophecies are capable of being applied co other events than those to which Christians apply them — thai this would not confute or destroy the force of the argument from prophecy, even with regard to those very instances. For. observe how this matter really is. If one knew such a per- son to be the sole author of such a book, and was certainly assured, or satisfied to any degree, that one knew tne whole of what he intended in it. one should be assured or satisfied to Buch 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 com.piled a book out of memoirs, which he received from another, of vastly tu« perior knowledge in the subject of it, especially if it were a book full of great intricacies and difficulties, it would m 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 farther meaning than the compiler .^^aw. To say, then, that the Scr ptures and thf CHAP. VII. J FOR CHRISTIANITY. 225 things contained in them can have no other or farther mean* ing. than those persons thoaght or had, who first recited of wrote them, is evidently sajmg, that those persons were the o.Tiginal, 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 they are of no divine authority at all. Till this be deter- mined, it must in all reason be supposed, not indeed that they have, foi this is taking for granted that they are inspired, but tliat they may have, some farther meaning than what the compilers saw or understood. And, upon this supposition, it is supposable also, that this farther meaning may be fulfilled. Now, events corresponding to prophecies, interpreted in a dif- ferent meaning from that which the prophets are supposed to have understood them ; this affords, in a manner, the sam-e 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 being the whole sense of them. And ii has been already shown, that the apparent completions of prophecy must be allov/ed to be explanatory of its meaning. So that the question is, whether a series oi prophecy has been fulfilled, in a natural or proper, i. e. in an;y real sense of the words of it. For such completion is equally a proof of foresight more than human, whether the prophet? are, or are not, supposed to have understood it in a differed f sense. I say, supposed ; for though I think it clear, that th»* prophets did not understand the full meaning of their predic tions, 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 busj themselves, who endeavour to prove that the i)rophetic historj . is applicable to events of the age in which it was written, oi of ages before it. Indeed, to have proved this before there was any appearance of a farther completion of it, might have answered some purpose; for it might have prevented the ex- pectation of any such farther completion. Thus, could Por- phyry hive 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 appli- cable to events which happened before or about the age of Antiochus Epiphanes ; this might have prevented them from expecting any failher completion of it. And imless there was then, as I think there must have been, external evidence con- 10* 126 OF THF PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [PART 91 cerning that book, more than is come down to us, such a di* covery miijht have been a stumbling-block in the way ol Christianity itself ; considering the authority which our Sa- viour has given to the book of Daniel, and how much the ge- neral scheme of Christianity presupposes the truth of it. But even this discovery, had there been any such,* would be oi very little weight with reasonable men now ; if this passage, tlius applicable to events before the age of Porphjny, appears to be applicable also to events, which succeeded the dissolution of the Roman empire. I mention this, not at all as intending to msinuate, that the division of this empire into ten parts, for it plainly was divided into about that number, were, alone and by itself, of any moment in verifying the prophetic history ; but only as an example of the thing I am speaking of And thus, upon the whole, the matter of inquiry evidently must be, as above put. Whether the prophecies are applicable to Christ, and to the present state of the world and of the church ; apph cable in such a degree, as to imply foresight : not whether they are capable of any other application ; though I know no pretence for saying, the general turn of them is capable of any other. These observations are, I think, just, and the evidence re- ferred to in them, real; though there may be people who will not accept of such imperfect mformation from Scripture. Some too have not integrity and regard enough to truth, to attend to evidence, which keeps the mind in doubt, perhaps perplex- ity, and which is much of a different sort from what they expec- ted. And it plainly requires a degree of modesty and fairness, beyond what every one has, for a man to say, not to the world, 'kj^s, i,u uimself, that there is a real appearance of somewhat of great weight in this matter, though he is not able thoroughly to satisfy himself about it ; but it shall have its influence upon him, in proportion to its appearing reality and weight. It is , much more easy, and more falls in with the negligence, pre- gumption, and wilfulness of the generality, to determine ai onr.e, with a decisive air, there is nothing in it. The preju- dices ansing from that absolute contempt and scorn, with which this evidence is treated in the world, I do not mention. ♦ It appears, that Porphyry did no'hino: worth mentioning in this way. F'or Jerome on the place says : Diias postenores bestias—4n nno MactiO' nvm regno ponit. And as to the ten kinji^s : Decern reges enumerat, qui fuerunt acf.vissimi : ipsosque reges non unius ponit regni, ve7-bi gratia, Mact- donict, Syria, Asia, et Egypti ; sed de diversis regnis unum ej^rit regitm ordinenu And in this way of interpretation, any thing may be made of any thing. CHAP. VII.] FOR CHRISTIANITY. 22V For what indeed can be said to persons, who are weak enough \\i their underst5,ndings to think tliis any pres jmption against It ; or, if they do not, are yet weak enough in tlieir te/nper to be influenced hy such prejudices, upon such a subject I I shah row, secondly, endea^'0u^ to give some account oi the general argument for the truth of Christianity, consisting both of the direct and circumstantial evidence, consid-ered as making uo one argument. Indeed, to state and examine thia argument fuily. would be a work much beyond the compass jf this whole Treatise ; nor is so much as a proper abridg- ment of it to oe expected here. Yet the present subject re- quires to have some brief account of it given. For it is the kind of evidence upon which most (questions of difficulty, in common uractice, are determined ; evidence arising from va- rious coincidences, which support and confirm each other, and in this manner prove, with more or less certaintj^, the point under consideration. And I choose to do it also, first, Be- cause 11 seems to oe 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 circum-stantial tninsrs also ; and that though each of these direct and circumstantial things is indeed to be considered separate! V. yet tney are afterwards to be joined together ; for that tne prooer torce of the evidence consists in the results of those several tnings, considered in their respects to each other, ana unitea into one view ; and, in the next place. Be- cause it seems to me, that the matters of fact here set down, which are acknowledged by unbelievers, must be acknow iedged by them also to contain together a degree of evidence of great weiirht. if they could be brought to lay these several things oefore tnemseives distinctly, and then with attention consider them together ; instead of that cursory thought of them, to wnich 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 in quirsd into, is this : that over and above our reason and affec tions, which God has given us for the information of our judg- ment and conduct of our Uves, he has also, by external reve- ation, given us an account of himself and his moral govern- ment over the world, implying a future state of rewards and punishiiients j i. e. hath revealed the system of natural reli- 12 228 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE i PART II. gion ; for natural religion may be externally revealed by God, as the ignorant maj^ be taught it by mankind, their fe'i- k)w creatures — that God, 1 saj^, has given us the evidence; of revelation, as well as the evidence of reason, to ascertain this moral system ; together with an account of a particular dis- pensation 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 fmal happi- ness of their nature. This revelation, whether real or supposed, may be consid- ered 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 viev/, aa God's world : by which it appears essentially distinguished from all other books, so far as I hav^e foimd, (except such aa arc copied from it. It begins with an account of God's crea tion 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 dis- tinguish him from the idols of the nations, which are eithf^i im- aginary'- beings, i. e. no beings at all ; or else part of that crea- tion, 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 Sa- viour's pre^existence. and that, ' all things were made by him, and without him was not any thing made that was madn -/f agreeably to the doctrine of St Paul, that ' God created al] things by Jesus Christ.' J This being premised, the ScriptuiSj taken together, seems to profess to contain a kind of an abridg- ment of the history of the world, in the view just now men- tioned ; that is, a general account of the condition of religion and its professors, during the continuance of that apostacy froir. God, and state of wickedness, which it every whore supposes the world to lie in. And this account of the state of rt^ligion carries with it some brief account of the political t Johi: i. 3. i Eph. iii. 0. 3HAP. /JI.J FOR CHRISTIANITY. 229 State of thin^^s, as religion is aftbcted hy it. Revelaiion in* deed (iOQsiders tho common afRiirs of this Wi rki, and what is g^oing oil in it, as a mere scene of distraction, and cannot be Biipposed to concern itself with foretelling at what tine 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 sup- posed to give any account of this wild scene for its own sake. But it seems to contain some very general account of the cliief governments of the world, as the general state of reli- gion 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 dis tinctly, and in great variety of expression : ' The limes of the restitution of all things ;'* when ' the mystery of God shall 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,'J as it is represented to be during this apos- tacy, but 'judgment shall be given to the saints,'§ and ' they shall reign ;'|| ' and the kingdom and dominion, and the great- ness of the kingdooi under the Avhole heaven, shall be given to the people of the saints of the Most High.'IF Upon this general view of the Scripture, I would reniark how great a length of time the whole relation takes up, near six thousand years of which are past : and how great a va- riety 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, and evidently written in a rude and unlearned age ; and in subsequent books, the vari- ous common and prophetic history, and the particular dispen- sation of Christianity. Now all this together gives the laitjest scope for criticism ; and for confutation of what is ca- pa:ie of being confuted, either from reason, or from common hiscory, or from any inconsistence in its several parts. And 't is a thing which deserves, I think, to be mentioned, that whereas some imagine, the supposed doubtfulness of the evi- dence for revelation implies a positive argument that it is not Jrae; it appears, on the contrary, to imply a posit i\e argu nent that it is true. For, could any common relation of such * A'-^.s iii. 2 1 . t Rev. x. 7. | Dan. i i. § Dan. vii. 22. [i Rev. xi. 17, 13, ch. xx. IT Dui. vii. 230 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [ PARI !! aDtiquity, 3xteiU, and variety, (for in these things the stress of what I lira now observing^ lies,) be proposed to thu examina- tion of the world ; that it could not, in an age of knowledge and liberty, be confuted, or shown lo have nothing in it, to the satisfaction of reasonable men ; this would be thought n strong presumptive proof of its truth. And indeed it must be a proof of it jiist in proportion to the probabihty, that if it were false, it might be shown to be so ; and this, 1 think, is scarce pretended to be shown but upon principles and in ways of arguing which have been clearly obviated * Nor does it at aii appear, that any sect of men who believe natural religion, arc of the opinion, that Christianity has been thus confuted. But to proceed : Together with the moral system of the world, the Old Tes- tament contains a chronological accomit 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 years. It con- tains an accoimt of God's making a covenant with a particu- lar nation, that they should be his people, and he would be their God, in a peculiar sense ; of his often interposing mu'aculouslj' in their affairs ; giving them the promise, and, long after, the possession, of a particular country ; assuring them of the greatest national prosperity in it, if they would worship him, in opposition to the idols which the rest of the world worship- ped, and obey his commands ; and threatening them with un- exampled punishments, if they disobeyed him, and fell into the general idolatry : insomuch, that this one nation should cor. tinue to be the observation and the wonder of all the world. It declares particularly, that " God would scatter them among all people, from one end of the earth unto the other ;" but " when they should return unto the Lord their God, he would have compassion upon them, and gather them, from all the nations whither he had scattered them ;" that "Israel should be saved in the Lord, with an everlasting salvation, and not be ashamed or confounded, world without end." And as some of these promises are conditional, others are as absolute ai any thing can be expressed, that the time shovdd come, when " the people sliould be all righteous, and inherit the land for ever :" ihat " though God would make a full end of all na- tions whither he had scattered them, yet would he not ipake ♦Cljiip.2,3,&c CHAP. MI. J FOR CHRISTIANITY. 231 4 a full end of them :" that " he would bring again me captivity of his people Israel, and plant them upon their land, and they Bhordd be no more pulled up out of their land :" that " the 6eed of Israel should not cease from bemg a nation forever.''* It foretells, that Gcd would raise them up a particular person in whom aii his promises should be fulfilled ; the Messiah. who should be, in a high and eminent sense, their anointed Prince and Saviour. This was foretold in such a maimer, as raised a general expectation of such a person in the nation, as appears from the New Testament, and is an r.cknowledged fact j an expectation of his coming at such a particular lime, before any one appeared, claiming to be that person, and where there was no ground for such an expectation but from the prophecies ; which expectation, therefore, must In all rea- son be presumed to be explanatory to those prophecies, if there were any doubt about their meaning. It seems more- over to foretell, that this person should be rejected by that na- tion, to whom he had been so long promised, and though he was so much desired by them. I 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 begim, iind in its progress, shoidd 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 dhouldest be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob, and to •estore the preserved of Israel : I will also give thee for a light Id the Gentiles, that thou may est be for salvation unto the end of the earth.' And, ' In the last daj^s, the mountain of the Lord's house shall be established in the top of the moun- tains, and shall be exalted above the hills ; and all nations shall flow into it — for out of Zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. And he sha)'. judge among the nations — and the Lord alone shall be exalted in that day, and the idols he shall utterly abolish. 'J The Scrip- ture farther 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 ♦Deut. xxxiii. 64. Ch. xxx. 2,3. Isa. xr\'. 17. Ch. Ix. 21. Jer Txx. 11. Ch. Ixvi. 28. Amos ix. 15. Jer. xxxi. 30. tisa.viii. 14, 15. Oh. x.ix. 5. Ch. liii. Mali. 1 0, 1 1 . and Ch. iii. t Isa. xlix. 6. Ch. ii. Ch. xi. Ch. hi. 7. Mai. i. 1 j. — To v/hich muat bo added, the olhei prophecies of the like kind, several in the New Testa- ment, and very many in the Old, which describe what shall be the com- pletior. of the revealed plan of Providence. 2"2 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [PART II referred to. and in whom they should centre ; that hn spen< some years ir a contmued course of miraculous works, and ondued his immediate disciples and followers wiih a power oi doing tlie same, as a proof of the ti-uth of that religion which he commissioned them to publish ; that, invested with this aiaihority and power, thej^ made numerous converts in tlie 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 among'st mankind. Let us now suppose a person utterly ignorant of history, to have all this related to him, out of the Scriptures. Or, sup- pose such a one, having the Scriptures put into his hands, tc remark these things in it, not knowing but that the whole, even its civil historj', 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, sup- pose. 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 hereafter, as they obey and disobey it here ; in how very great a degree, I say, the profession and establ'shment of this moral S3^stem in the world, is owing to the revelation, whether real or supposed, contained in this book ; the establishment of this moral sys- tem, 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 consideration, of what importance reli- gion is to mankind. And upon these things, he might, 1 think, traly 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 important event in the story of mankind : that a book of this nature, and thus promulged and recom- mended to oui 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 oi acaffmg and ridicule, is an offence against natural piety. But CHAP. VII.J FOR CHRISTJANITY. 238 It is to be remembered, that how m ich soe\er the estabUsh mint of natural reUgion in the world is owing to the Scrip- ture revelation, this does not destroy the proof of religion from reason, any more thaii the proof of EitcliWs Elements is de- stroyed, by a man's knowing or thinking that he shoiiid never have seen the truth of the several propositions conlamed in % nor had those propositions come into his thoughts, out fo: 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 hrs*. peopled with human creatures, is no way contradicted, but is reali}'- confirmed, by the natural and civil history of the world, coHected from common historii3.-"s, from the state of the earth, and the late invention of aris and sciences. And, as the Scripture contains an unbroken thread of common and civil history, from the creation to the captivity, for between three and four thousand years ; let the person we are speak- ing of be told, in the next place, that this general history, 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 itself, to give any reasonable ground of suspicion, of its not being, in the general, a faithful and literally true genealogy of men, and series of things. I speak here only of ihe 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 con- formable to the manners of that age ; nothhig 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 preced- ing one. There is nothing in the characters, which would rdise a thought of their being feigned ; but all the internal marks imaginable of their being real. It is to be added also, tL^t mere genealogies, bare narratives of the nmnbev of yoara wlr.ch persons called by such ami such names lived, do no* jarry the face of fiction ; perhaps do carry some presumption of veracity ; and all unadorned narratives, which have nothino' to surprise, nvdy be thought to carry somewhat of the likti presumption too. And the domestic and the political history uS plainly credible. There may be incidents in Scripture, 234 OF THE PARTICULAR IVIUENCE [PART II which, tJiken alone in tlie naked way hej are tclrl, may ap pear strange, especially to persons of other manners, tern* per, Bdncation ; but there are also incidents of undoubted truth, hi many or most persons' hvos, which, in the sarriS cir- cumstances, woukl appear to the full as stange. There may be mistakes of transcribers, there m.ay be other real or seeming KLStakes, not easy to be particularly accounted for ; but there are certainly no more things of this kind in the Scripture^ than what were to have been expected in books of such aii« tiquity ; and nothing, in any w'ise, sufficient to discredit tha general narrative. Now^, that a history, claiming to com- mence from the creation, and extending in one continued series, through so great a length of time, and variety of events, should have such appearances of reaUty and iruih in its whole contexture, is surely a very remarkable circumstance in its fa\or. And as all this is applicable to the comm.on history of the New Testament, so there is a farther credibihty, and a very high one, given to it by jn'ofane authors ; many of these waiting of the same times, and confirming the truth of customs and events, which are incidentally, as Avell as more purposely mentioned in it. And this credibility of the com- mon Scripture history, gives some credibihty to its miracu- lous history; especially as this is inierwoven with the com- mon, so as that they imply each olher, and both together make up one relation. Let it then be more particularly observed to this person, thnt it is an acknowledged matter of fact, which is indeed imphed in the foregoing observation, that there was such a nation as the Jews, of the greatest antiquitj^, whose government and general poUty 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 iheir very being, as a nation, depended upon their acknowledgment of one God, the God of the universe. For suppose, in their captivity in Babylon, they had gone ovgi to the religion of their conquerors, there would have remained no bond of union, to keep them a distinct people. And whilst the}' were mder their own kings, in their own country, *i to- tal apostacy from God would have been the dissolution of then whole government. They in such a sense nationally ackno%v. ledged and worshipped the Maker of heaven and earth, when the rest of the world were sunk in idolatry, as rendered them, In fact, the pecuhar people of God. And this so remarkable :HAP. VII. J FOR CHRISTIAMTY, 233 an establishment and preservation of natural religion among'st hem, seems to add some peculiar credibilitj to the historica* evidence for the miracles of Moses and the pro})nets ; because these miracles are a full satisfactory account of this event, which plainly wants to be accounted for, and cannot other- wise. Let this person, supposed wholly ignorant of history, be acqupinted farther, that one claiming to be the Messiah, pi 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 have been foretold he shoiiJd, by the body of the people under the direction of their rulers . fhat in the course of a very few years he was believed on, and acknowledged as the promised Messiah, by great num- bers among the Gentiles^ agreeably to the prophecies of Scrip ture, yet not upon the evidence of prophecy, but of miracles, of which miracles -we also have strong historical evidence ; (by which I mean here no more than must be acknowledged by unbelievers ; for let pious frauds and follies be admitted to weaken, it is absurd to say they destroy, our evidence of miracles wroufi^ht in proof of Christianity :) that this religio») 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 oeing no way contrary to reason in those parts of it which re- quire 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 fron; it, and then became the religion of the world ; that, in the mean time, the Jewish nation and go- vernment were destroyed in a very remarkable manner, and the people carried away captive and dispersed through the most distant countries : in w^hich state of dispersion they have re- mained fifteen hundred years ; and that they remain a nume- "^ous people, united among themselves, and distinguished from the rest of the world, as they were in the days of Moses, hy the profession of his law, and every where looked upon in a maimei, which one scarce knows how distinctly to express, but in the v/ords of the prophetic account of it. given so many ages before it came to pass : ' Thou shall become on astonish- ment, a proverb, and a byword, among all nations whither the Lord shall lead ihee.'f iDeutxjrtiii. S"" 12* 936 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [PAUT II The appearance of a standing- miracle, in the Jjws remain inn; a distinct people in their dispositions, and the confirmation which this event appears to give to the truth of revelation, may be thought to be answered, by their religion forbidding them intermarriages with those of anj^ other, and prescribing them a great many peculiarities in their food, by which th^y are debarred from the means of incorporating with the people in whose countries they hve. This is not, 1 think, a satisfac- tory account of that which it pretends to account for. But what does it pretend to account for ? The correspondence be- tween this event and the prophecies ; or the coincidence oi both with a long dispensation of Providence, of a peculiar na- ture, towards that people formerly 1 No. It is only the event itself which is offered to be thus accounted for ; which single event taken alone, abstracted from a\\ such correspondence and coincidence, perhaps would not have appeared miracu- lous ; but that correspondence and coincidence may be so, though the event itself be supposed not. Thus the concur- rence of our Saviour's being born at Bethlehem, with a long foregoing series of prophecy and other coincidences, is doubt- less miraculous, the series of prophecy, and other coinci- dences, and the event, being admitted ; though the event itself, hi? birth at that place, appears to have been brought about in a natural way ; of which, however, no one can be certain And as several of these events seem, in some degree, ex- pressly, to have verified the prophetic historj'- already ; so likewise they may be considered farther, 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 pre- served 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 naturai religion came forth firom Judea, and spread in the degree it has done over the world, before lost in idolatry ; which, to gather with some other things, have distinguished that very place, in like manner as the people of it arc distinguished: Lhat this great change of religion over the earth, was brought about under the profession and acknowledgment, that Jesus was the promised Messiah : things of this Itind naturallj^ turn Lhe thoughts v.f serio'is men towards the full crmpletion a ;he prophetic history, concerning the final irestoration of tha. people ; concerning the establishment of the everlasting king lorn amonic theiM; the kingdom of the Messiah ; and the OHAP. VII. J FOR THRISTIAMTY. 237 fiiture state of the world, under this sacred g:oveinrnent. Such cir 3umstance3 and events compared witli these pvopherieg- though no completions of them, yet would not, I tninkj be spoken of as nothing in the argument, by a ])erson upon his first being informed of them. I'hey fall in with the propliitic history of things still future, give it some addiuonnl 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 consideradon, to be able to judge, thoroughiy, of the evidence for the truth of Christianitj^, 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 Christianity to the present time. But it appears from a general view of it, to be very material. And those persons who have thoroughlj^' examined it, and some of them were men of the coolest tempers, greatest capacities, and least liable to imputations of prejudice, insist upon it as detcrminately conclusive. Suppose now a person quite ignorant of history, fnsr, to re- collect the passages above mentioned out of Scripture, without knowing but that the whole was a late fiction, then to be in- formed of the correspondent facts now mentioned, and to unite them all into one view : that the profession and establish mer.a of natural religion in the world, is greatly owing, in differer.t ways, to this book, and the supposed revelation which it con tains ; that it is acknowledged to be of the earliest antiquity . that its chronology and common historj^ are entirely credible , that this ancient nation, the Jews, of whom it chiefly treats appear to have been, in fact, the people of God, in a distin guished sense ; that as there was a national expectatioii amongst them, raised from the prophecies, 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 Diit of miracles ; that the religion he taught supported itself lEidt^r the greatest difhculties, gained ground, and at length became the religion of the world , that in the mean time the JcAvish politj'' was utterly destroyed, and the nation dispersed over the face of the earth ; that notwithstanding this, they have remain 3d a distinct mmierous people for so many centu- ries, even to this day; which not only appears to be the ex- press completion of several prophecies concerning them ; but ^Iso rcudeis it, as one may speak, a visible and easy posai 238 OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE [PART fl Dility, that the promises made to them as a nation, may yet he fulfilled. And to these acknowledged Iruths, let the per- son we have been supposing add, as I think he ought wiiether every one will allow it or no, the obvious appear- ances which there are, of the state of the world, in other re- spects besides what relates to the Jews, and of the Christian church, having so long answered, and still answering to the prophetic history. Suppose, I say, these facts set over against the things before mentioned out of the Scripture, and .seriously compared with them; the joint view of both to- gether, must, I think, appear of very great weight to a con- siderate reasonable person : of much greater, indeed, upon having them fa'st laid before him, than is easy for us^ who are so familiarized to them, to conceive, without some particu- lar attention for that purpose. AH these things, and the sevejal particulars contained un- der them, require to be distinctly and most thoroughly eX' amined into ; that the weight of each may be judged of, upon such examination, and such conclusion drawn as results from their united force. But tliis has not been attempted here. 1 have gone no farther than to show, 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 men- tioned, and there are several others of the like sort ; that all this together, which, being fact, must be acknowledged by imbeiievers, 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 lji.«tor:cal evidence of miracles, wi ought in attesta- tion 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, * All the particiilar thin.o:.s mentioned in this chapter, not reducible *« the head of certain miracles, or determinate c(mpletions of prophe^'V CHAP. VII.J FOR CHRISTIANITY. 239 without meaning, will have a meanino: found in them by fan ciful people ; and that such as are fanciful in any one certain way, will make out a thousand coincidents, which seem to favor their peculiar follies. Men, 1 say, may talk thus ; but ao one who is serious, can possibly think these things to be ♦-iothing, if he cor]£fers the ijT»portance of cohateral things, and evec of lesser circur.istances, in nid ^^/iience of proba- lilly, i.-i Jistinguished, in nature, from the evidence of demon- stration. In many cases, indeed, it seems to require the truest judgment, to determine with exactness the weight oi circi imstantial evidence ; but it is very often altogether aa convincing, as that which is the most express and direct. This general view of the evidence for Christianity, con- Bidered as making one argument, may also serve- to recom- mend to serious persons, to set down every thing which they think may be of deny real weight at all in proof of it, and par- ticularly the many seeming completions of prophecy ; and they will find, that, judging by the natural rules, by which we judge of probable evidence in common matters, they amount to a much higher degree of proof, upon such a join: review, than could be supposed upon considering them sepa rately, at different times ; how strong soever the proof mighi before appear to them, upon such separate views of it. Fo: probable proofs, by being added, not only increase the evi^ dence, 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 liis judgment, but his practice, that a mistake on one side, may be, in its consequences, much more dangerous than a mistake on tlie other. And what course is most safe, and what most dangerous, is a consideration thought very material, when we deliberate, not co'icerning events, but concerning conduct in our temporal affairs. To be influenced by this consideration in our 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 Roraa ^re inclined to believe what they hope ; and others, Tvna.t they fear And it is manifest unreasonableness, to app y 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 acco.mt, than the importance of it. For, suppose it doubtful, what would be the consequence of acting in this, or in a contrarj'' manner j Ktill, that taking one side could be attended with Uttle or no %i) OF THE PARTICULAR EV-IDENli!:, &-C. [PART IV Dad consequence, and taking the other might be attendeii with the greatest, must appear, to unprejudi( .ed reason, of the Highest moment towards determining how we are to acl. Bui the truth of our religion, hke the truth of common matters, is to be judged of by ah the evidence taken together. And unless the whole series of things which may be alleged in this argu- ment, and every particular thing in it. can reasonably be sup- posed to have been by accident, (for here the stress of the argu- ment for Christianity lies,) then is the truth of it proved : in like manner as if, in iny common case, numerous events acknow- ledged, were to be alleged in proof of any other event dis- puted ; the proof of the disputed event would be proved, vio only if any one of the acknowledged ones did of itself clearly imply it, but, though no one of them 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 e\i- dence gives to those persons who attack Christianity, espe- cially in conversation. For it is easy to show, in a short and lively manner, that such and such things are hable to objec- tion, that this and another thing is of little weight in itself; but impossible to show, in like manner, the united force oi 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 p<.«itive evidence for it, shows, that th*.s evidence is such, as, fr\.)rn the nature of it. cannot be destroyed, though it should &e leaacnod 'ee&P VIII 1 OBJECTIONS A(iAlNST TH" ANALOGY. &C. 241 CHAPTER VIII. Cffthe Objections which may be made against arguing frvt* the Anaiagy of Nature to Religion. If every one would consider, with such attention as they arc bound, even in point of morality', to consider, what they jUQge and give characters of, the occasion of this chaptei would be, in some good measure at least, superseded. But sjnce this is not to expected ; for some we find do not concerp themselves to understand even what they Avrite against . since this treatise, in common with most others, lies open to objections, which may appear very material to ihoughtfid 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 con- sider them to their hands. And they are such as these : — " That it is a poor thing to solve difiiculties in revelation, by Bap'ng, that there are the same in natural religion; when what is -.va,.iting 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 re- igion, to show them that they have as little reason for their woildly pursuits ; and a strange way of vindicating the Justice and goodness of the Author of nature, and of removing the ob- jections 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 su much as pjetending to make out, that the sj^stem of it, or the particular things in it objected against, are reasonable — espe lially, perhaps, some may be inattentive enough to add, musi riiis bo thought strange, when it is confessed that analogy is no answer to such objections : that when this sort of reascn 11 242 OBJECTIONS AGAINST THE ANALOGY [ PART II ing is carried to the utmost length it can be imagined capable of, it will yet leave the mind in a very unsatisfied state; and that it must be unaccormtable ignorance of mankind, to ima- gine they will be prevailed with to forego their present inter- ests and pleasures, from regard to religion, upon doubtful evi- ience." Now, as plausible as this way of talking may appear, that ippearance will be found in a great measure owing to half, views, which show but part of an object, yet show tha<: indis- tinctly ; and to undeterminate language. By these means weak men are often deceived by others, and ludicrous men by themselves. And even those who are serious and considerate cannot always readily disentangle, and at once clearlj'' see through the perplexities in which subjects themselves are in- volved ; 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. Firstf The thing wanted, i. e. what men require, is to have all difficulties cleared. And this is, or, at least for any thing wc know to the contrary, it may be, the same, as requiring to com- prehend the divine nature, and the whole plan of Providence from 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 re- vealed, 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 meiy be applied, 1 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 ? To act upon con- jecture and guess, wiiere the life of man is concdned ? Un- doubtedly it is : but not in comparison of having no skill a; all in that useful art, and being obliged to act wholly in the dark. > Further : Since it is as unreasonable as it is common, ta urge objections against revelation, which are of equal weight against natural religion ; and those who do this, if they are not confuted themselves, deal unfairly with others, in making it Ream that they are arguing only against revelation, or particu* lar doctrines of it, when in reality they arc aiguins a^ainsJ THAT. VIK.J OF rvact. Nor are we informed by nature, in fiUure contin- gencies and accidents, so as to render it at all certain, \\ hat ia the best method of managing our affairs. What will be the success of our temporal piu'suits, in the common sense of the word success, is highly doubtful. And what will be the suc- cess of them, in the proper sense of the word ; i. e. wr.at hap- piness or enjoyment w^e shall obtain by them, is doubtful in a much higher degree. Indeed, the unsatisfactory naUire of vile evidence, with v\^hich we are obliged to take \i\ bi the * 1 John iv. 18. CHAP. VIII.] OF NATURE TO RILIGION. 24/ daily couise of life, is scarce to be expressed. Yel men dc TiOt throw awaj^ life, or disregard the interests of it, upon uc« coujit of this doubtfulness. The evidence of religion ther. being admitted real, those who object against it, as not satis factory, i. e. as not being what they wish it, plainly forge! the very condition of our being ; for satisfaction, in this senst 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 ah those who will embrace it, a certain degree of integrity and honesty; which it was in- tended to try whether men have or not, and to exercise in Buch as have it, in order to its improvement. Religion pre- supposes this as much, and in the same sense, as speaking to a man presupposes he understands the language in which you speak ; or as warning a man of any danger, presupposes that he has 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 religion be satisfactory 1 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 aU 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 over- bearing as is required. One might add farther, that whethei the motives, or the evidence for any course of actions, be satis factoiy, meaning here by that word, what satisfies a man, that such a course of action will in event be for his good ; this need never be, and I think, strictly speaking, never is, the practical question in common matters. But the practical question in all cases, is, W^hether the evidence for a course of action be such, as, taking in all circumstances, makes the facult}'" within us, which is the guide and ^pjdge of conduct,* determine that course of action to be prudent? Indeed, satis- faction that it will be for our interest or happiness, abundantly determines an action to be prudent ; but evidence, almost in- finitely lo\v er than this, determines actions to be so too, even in the conduct of every day. Fiflhlyj As to the objection concerning the influence which Ihis argument, or any part of it, may, or may not. be expected •JO have upon men, I observe, as above, that religion being in- 't^nded for a rial and exercise of the molality of every person's * See Disaertation 2. 248 OBJECTIONS AGAINST THE ^NALOGT lPARI II nharacte ■, \vho is a subject of it ; and there being, as \ havf shown, s'lch evidence for it, as is sufficient, ^.n reasoji, to influ ence meii to embrace it ; to object, that it is not to be ima- twined mankind will be influenced by such evidence, is nothing to the purpose of the foregoing Treatise. For the purpose oi it is not to inquire. What sort of creatures mankind are ; but. "VVJiat the light and knowledge, which is afforded them, re- quires thej should be ? to show how, in reason, they ought to behave ; not how, in fact, they will behave. This de pends upon themselves, and is their own concern ; the per goaal concern of each man in particidar. And how little re* gard 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 ; foi by this means they have been put into a state of probation ; let thein behave as they will in it. And thus, not only reve- lation, but reason also, teaches us, that by the evidence of re- ligion being laid before men, the designs of Providence are carrying on, not only with regard to those who will, but like- wise with regard to those who will not, be influenced by it. How^ever, lastly, the objection here referred to, allows the things insisted upon in this Treatise to be of some weight; and if so, it miiv be hoped it will 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 likel}'' to have a greatei in- fluence. 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 most importance, because by others thought unintelligible, or not true. Thus I have argued upon the principles of the Fatalists, w^hich I do not believe ; and have omitted a thing of the utmost importance, which I do believe, the moral fitness and unfitness of actions, prior to all wnll whatever ; which I apprehend as certainly to determine the divine conduct, as speculative truth and false- hood necessarily determine the divine judgment. Indt-od * By itrgtnng upon the principles of others, tlie reader will observe i« meant, not provinij;any thing /Vom tlinse principles, but notwithstanding (hem. Thus religion is proved, not /ram the opinion of necessity, v/hicb is fibsurd, but notwithstanding or even though thiit opinion were admitted to be tuew CHAP. VIII.] OF NATURE TO RELIGION. 249 ths principle of liberty, anrl that of moral fitness^ so force ;-hemselves upon the mind, that moralists, the aj .cienls as well as moderns, have fornted their language upon it. And probably it rnay appear in mine, though I have endeavoured to avoid it : and in order to avoid it, have sometimes been obliged to ex- press 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 fiuess' being omitted, religion can be considered in no oth.3r view than merely as a question of fact ; and in this view it is here considered. It is obvious, that Cluistianity, 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. J3ut then, several ab- stract 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 ona=!, is an abstract truth; but that they appear so to our mind, is only a matter of fact. And this last must have b'^jen ad mitted, idxny thing was, by those ancient sceptics, who wouifl not have admitted the forn:er ; but pretend to doubt. Whether there were an^^ 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 wiong 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 punish men respectively as they act right ny wrong ; this assertion contains an abstract truth, as well as m.atter of fact. But supp'^'se in the present state^ every man, without exception, was rewarded and punished, in ex-.act proportion as he followed or transgressed that senso of right and wrong, which God has implanted in the nature :f every rnan ; this would not be at all an abstract truth, but only a matter of fact. And though this fact were acknow- ledged by every one, yet the very same difficulties might be raised, as are now, concerning the abf^ract questions of liberty iind moral fitness : and we should have a proof, even the cer. rain one of experience, that the government of the world was utufectly moral, without takinsf in the consideration of thofie 11* 250 C EJECTIONS AGAINST TIIL ANALOGY [PAllT U questions : and this pi oof would remain, in what way soevei 'Jhey were determined. And thus, God having given man- kind 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 or 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 U'hic^i it might be proved, from the principles of liberty and irroral fitness ; but without them have given a really conclu- sive practical proof of it, which is greatly strengthened by the general analogy of nature ; a proof easily cavilled at, easily shown not to be demonstrative, for it is not offered as such , but impossible, I think, to be evaded or answered. And thus the obhgations 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 men- tioned principles, an additional proof and a confirmation of it , to such as do not admit those principles, an original proof oi i'^, and a confirmation of that proof Those who believe will here fmd the scheme of Christianity cleared of objections and the evidence of it in a peculiar manner strengthened . tnose who do not believe, will at least be shown the absurdity of all attempts to prove Christianity false, the plain undoubted cre.libihty of it, and, I hope, a good deal more. And thus, though some perhaps may seriously think, thai analogy, as here urged, has too great stress laid upon it ; £.nd lidicule, unanswerable ridicule, may be applied, to show the argument from it in a disadvantageous hght : yet there can be no question, but that it is a real one. For religion, both natural and revealed, implying in it numerous facts ; r.nalogy being a confirmation of all facts to which it can te 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 ty DC particularly regarded by such as profess to follow nature iuid to be less satisfied with abstract reasonings. f ART IJ. I CONCLUSION 251 CONCLUSION. Whatever account may De given, of the strange inattea- tion and disregard, in some ages and countries, to a matter of rjch importance as religion, it would, before experience, be incredible, that there should be the like disregard in thofse, who have had the moral system of the world laid before them, as it is by Christianity, and often inculcated upon them ; be- Ce\use this moral system carries in it a good degree of evi- dence for its truth, upon its being barely proposed to our thoughts. There is no need of abstruse reasonings and dis- tinctions, to convince an unprejudiced understanding, that there is a God who made and governs the world, and who 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 wiind, ten thousand thousand instances of design, cannot but prove a Designer. And it is intuitively manifest, that crea- tures 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 bein^ received. Yet inattention, among us, to revealed religion, will be found to imply the same dissolute immoral temper of mind, as inat- tention to natural religion ; because, when both are laid be- 'bie us, in the manner they are in Christian countries ot dberty, our obligations to inquire into both, and to embrace ootn upon supposition of their truth, are obligations of th« 'jame 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 conclu- sive, upon thor )ugh consideration of it : so it offers itself to ua 13 252 CONCLUSION [part ia. with manifest obvious appearances of naving something more than l)uman 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 soevei* afforded us, is equally from God ; yet a miraculous revelatiow Has a peculiar tendency, from the first principles of our nature, to awaken mankind, and inspire them with reverence and p. we : and this is a pecuhar obligation, to attend to what claims to be so with such appearances of truth. It is therefore most 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 specula- tive principles of infidelity. And all of them do 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 Au- thor of it ; and take all occasions to manifest a scorn and con- tempt of revelation. This amounts to an active setting them- selves against religion ; to what may be considered as a posi- tive principle of irreligion ; which they cultivate within them- selves, and, whether they intend this effect or not, rendei 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 admittmg, which is the supposition we go upon, that these persons act upon what they think principle** of reason, and otherwise they are not to be argued with ; ii is really inconceivable, that they should imagine they clearly aee 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, ^vith all its circumstances, were credible, like other matters of science or history. So that their manner of treating it nmst proceed, either from such kind of objections against all reli- gion, as have been answered or obviated in the former part of this Treatise ; or else from objections and difficulties, supposed Tiore peculiar to Christianity. Thus, they enteitain preju PART II. J CONCLUSION ^53 dices again&.t the -whole notion of a reveiation and mira jloua interpositions. They find things in Scripture, whether Ai iii cidental passages or in the general scheme of it, which ap pear to them unreasonable. Thej take for granted, that if Christianity were true, the Ught of it must have been ir.ore general, and the evidence of it more satisfactory, or rather overbearing ; that it must and would have been, in some way, ctherwise put and left, than it is. Now, this is not imagining they see the evidence itself to be nothing, or inconsiderable ; but quite another thing. It is being fortified against the evi- dence, in some degree acknowledged, by thinking they see the system of Christianity, or somewhat which appears to '.hem 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 per- sons 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 re- ligion, the foregoing Treatise is adapted. For, all the ge- neral objections against the moral system of nature having been obviated, it is shown, that there is not any peculiar pre- sumption 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, 1 think probable, that many things in it must appear liable to great objections ; and that we must be incompetent judges oi it, to a great degree. This observation is, I think, unques- tionably true, and of the very utmost importance : but it is urged, as I hope it will be understood, with great caution of not vilifying the faculty of reason, which is ' the candle of the I/Ord within us ;'* though it can afford no light, where it does not shine : nor judge, where it has no principles to judge u>pon. The objections here spoken of, being first answered in the view of objections against Christianity as a matter of fact, are in the next pla^e considered as urged more immedi- ately against the wisdom, justice, and goodness of the Chris* tian dispensation. And it is fully made oi^ that they admit ♦ Pi ov. XX. 27 254 CONCLUSION. LPART IJ of exacilj the like answer, in every respect, to wiiat the like objections against the constitution of nature admit of: that, aa partial views give the appearance of wrong to thing Sj which upon farther consideration and knowledge of their relations to other things, are found just and good ; so it is perfectly credi- ble, that the things objected against the wisdom and goodness of the Christian dispensation, may be rendered instances ol wisdom and goodness by their reference to other things be- yond our view : because Christianity is a scheme as much above our comprehension, as that of nature ; and, like that, a Bcheme in which means are made use of to accomplish ends, and which, as is most credible, may be carried on by general laws. And it ought to be attended to, that this is not an an- swer 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 Chris tian 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 part, to the constitution of nature. Thus, if man be fallen from his primitive state, and to be restored, and infinite wis dom 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 dis- pensation preparatory to another, this to a farther one, and so on through an indefinite number of ages, before the end of the scheme proposed can be completely accomplished ; a scheme conducted by infinite wisdom, and executed by Almighty power. But now, on the contrary, our finding that every thing in the constitution and course of nature is thus canieS on, shows such expectations conceming revelation to be highly unreasonable ; and is a satisfactory answer to thera^ when urged as objections against the credibility, that the threat scheme of Providence in the redemption of tne world, may be of this kind, and to be accomplished in this manner. As to the particular method of our redemption, the appoint- ment of a Mediator between God and man ; this has been shown to be most obviously analogous to the general con duct 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 Prondence. The condition of this world PikttT II.] CONCLUSION. 255 «rhioh the doctrine of our redemption by Christ presuppoees, BO 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 appear- ances must have kept un the tradition, and confirmed the be- lief of it. And it was the general opinion, under the light of nature, that repentance and reformation, alone and by itself, was not sufficient to do avr'ay 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 conclusion ; so every day's expe- rience shows us that reformation is not, rn 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 govern- ment, are annexed to vice, may be prevented ; that pro- vision 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 mercy, in the general conduct of nature ; compassion pro- vided tor misery,* medicines for diseases, friends against ene- mies. There is provisions 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 the assistance of others ; assistance, which nature enables, and disposes, and appoints them to affijrd. \iy a method of goodness analogous to this, when the world lay in wickedness, and consequently in ruin, ' God 80 loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son' to save it ; and * he being made perfect by suffering, became the author of eternal salvation to all them that obey him.'y Indeed, neither reason nor analogy would lead us to think, in particular, that the interposition of Christ, in the manner in which he did hiterpose, 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 othei particular means would be of the efficacy, which experience Bhows they are in numberless instances, \nd therefore, as the case before i:;? Iocs not admit of experience, so that neither reason nor analogy can show how, or in what particular way, * Sermon 6th, at the Rolls. f John iii. 16. Heb. v. 9. 256 . CONCLUSION. [part II the interposition of Christ, as revealed in Scripture is of thai efficacy which it is there represented to be ; this is no kind nor degree of presumption against its being really of that effi- r,ac3^ Farther : the objections against Christianity, from the light of it not being universal, nor its evidence so strong as might possibly be given us, have been answered by the ge- neral 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 an- swer to it. And it is so far from being the method of Provi- dence, 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 act in common matters, throughout a very great part of hfe, is doubtful in a high degree. And, admitting the fact, that God has afforded to some no more than doubtful evidence of religion, the same account may be given of it, as of difficu) ties and temptations with regard to practice. But as it is not impossible, surely, that this alleged doubtfulness may bo men's own fault, it deserves their 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 obliga- tions, 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 ths objections against it estimated. Deduct therefore what is to be deducted from that evidence, upon account of any weight v/hich may be thought to remain in these objeclwns, 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 princi- ples :) and, upon such consideration, it will be obvious, that hn- morality, as little excuee as it admits of in itself, is gcoatlf f ART II. CONCLUSION. 267 aggravated, in persons who have been made acquainted wi'h Christianity, whether tliey believe it or not ; because the moral system of nature, or natural religion, which Christianity laya 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, be- tween a full satisfaction of the truth of it, and the satisfaction of the contrary. The middle state of mind between thes" two consists in a serious apprehension tha* it may b', tnu joined with doubt, whether it be so. And this, upon the best judgment I am able to make, is as far towards speculative in- fidelity, as any sceptic can at all be supposed to go, who has had true Christianity, with the proper evidence of it, laid be- fore him, and has in any tolerable measure considered them. For I would not be mistaken to comprehend all who havo ever heard of it; because it seems evident, that, in many countries called Christian, neither Christianity, nor its evi- dence, are fairly laid before men. And in places where both are, there appear to be some who have very Httle attended to either, and who reject Christianity with a scorn proportionate to their inattention ; and yet are by no means without under- standing in other matters. Now it has been shown, that a se- rious apprehension that Christianity may be true, lays per- sons under the strictest obhgations 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 con\iction of its truth would lay them under. Lastly, i will appear, that blasphemy and profaneness, I mean with regairi 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 excusp for it. If tins be a just account of things, and yet men caii go on to vilify or disregard Christianity, whicji is to talk and act as if they had a demonstration of its falsehood ; there is no i-eason to think they would alter their behaviour to any purpose, though there were a demonstration of its truth. 258 OF PERSONAL .DENTITY DII DISSERTATION I. OF PERSONAL IDENTITY Whether we are to live in a future state, as it is the niort iinproiant 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 about the meaning of that identity, or sameness of person, which is implied in the notion of our living now and hereafter, or in any two suc- cessive 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 in- quiry concerning a future life of no consequence at all to us the persons who are making it. And though few «nen can be misled by such subtleties, yet it may be proper a little to consider them. Now, 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 as- certaining the idea. For as, upon two triangles being com- pared 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 immedi at?ly arises to the mind the idea of personal identity. And as the two former comparisons not only give the idea of simili- tude and equalitj'-, but also shows us, that two triangles are like, and twice two and four are equal ; so the latter compa rison not only gives us the idea of personal identity, but alsa shov.7s us the identity of ourselves in those two moments , the present, suppose, and that immediatelj' past ; or the present, and that a month, a year, or twenty 3 ears past. Or n other words, by reflecting upon that which is myself now Oiaa I.] OF PERSONAL IDENTITY. 259 and that which was myself twenty years ago, 1 discern they are not two, but one and the same self But though consciousness of what is past does thus ascer- tfiin 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 person 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 ilentity presupposes, and therefore cannot constitute, per- sonal identity, any more than knowledge, in any other case, can constitute truth, which it presupposes. This wonderful mistake may possibly have arisen from 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 ar:d 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 com- mon acceptation of the word, does not appear to have any re lation to this of personal identity ; because the word same^ when applied to them and to persons, is not only apphed to diflferent 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 n^eans 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 philoso- phical sense of the word. For he does not know whethei any one particle of the present tree be the same with any one particle of the tree 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 sens© of the word same ; it being evidently a contradiction in terms, to say they are, when no part of their substance, and no one of their properties, is the same ; no part of their substance, by the supposition ; r.o one of their properties, because it is al* io wed that the same property cannot be transfi^rred from one Bubstance to another. And therefore when we say the iden- tity or sameness of a plant consists in a continuation of the same life communicated upf^f^'- the same organization, to a 13* 260 OF PERSONAL IDENTITY. [dISS. I number of particles of matter, whettier the same or not, thf word same, when applied to life and to organization, cannot pos- sibly be undei stood to signify^ what it signifies in this very sen- tence, when applied to matter. In a loose and popular s^nse, then, the life, and the organization, and the plant, are justly said to be the same, notwithstanding the perpetual change ol the parts. But in a strict and philosophical manner of speech, no man, no being, no mode of being, nor any thing, can be the same with that, with which it hath indeed nothing the same. Now, sameness is used in this latter sense when ap- plied to persons. The identity of these, therefore, cannot sub- sist 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 same identical sub- stance ? And he has suggested what is a much better an- swer to the question than that which he 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 sub- stance, 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 ow^n existence in youth and m old age, or in any two joint successive mo- ments, is not the same individual action,'^ i. e. not the same consciousness, but different successive consciousnesses. Now it is strange that this should have occasioned such perplexi- ties. For it is surely conceivable, that a person may have a capacity of knowing some object or other to be the same now, which it was when he 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 can- not be one and the same perception. And thus, though the successive consciousnesses which we have of our own exist- ence are not the same, yet are they consciousnesses of one ai/J the same thing or object ; of the same person, self, or linng agent. The person, of whose existence the conscious- ness 's felt now, and was felt an hour or a year ago, is dis- cerned to be, not two persons, but one and the same person j »nd therefore is one and the same. Mr. Locke's observations upon this subject ay[)ear hasty; ♦ Locke's Works, vol. i. p. 146. t Locke, p. 146, 147. DIV8 I.] OF PERSONAL IDENTITY. 261 and he seems to profess himself dissatisfied with suppositions, which he has made relating to it* But some of those hast^ observa ions 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 personality is not a perma nent, but a transient thing : that it Hves and dies, begins aii I ends, continually : that no one can any more remain on( an.l the same person two moments together, than two successive moments can be one and the same moment : that our sub- stance 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 person- ality ; Arhich consciousness, being successive, cannot be the same in any two moments, nor consequently the personahty constituted by it.' And from hence it must 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 w^hich 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 Hke 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 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, consist- ently with themselves, mean, that the person is really the ame. For it is self evident, that the personality cannot be reall; the same, if, as they expressly assert, that in which it con.sists is not the same. And as, consistently with them selves, 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 thii ♦ Locke, p. 152. t See an answer to Dr. Clarke's third defence of his letter to Mfi D(Ki\vell, 2d etiit. p. 44, 56, &c. 262 OF PERSONAL IDE/«TITY ^0188. they do assert, that any number of ptTsons whatcA'ei may bfj the same person. The bare unfolding this notion, and layuig 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 contriidictory to that cer- tain conviction, which necessarily, and every men ent, rises within us, when we turn our thoughts upon ourselves ; when we reflect upon what is past, and look forward upon what k to come. All imagination of a daily change of that Jiving agent which each man calls himself, for another, or of any such change throughout our whole present hfe, 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 aifairs, from a suspicion, that though he should Hve 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 and feels the in- expressible 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, find secret corruption of heart. Secondly, It is not an idea, or abstract notion, or quality^ but a being only which is capable of hfe and action, of happi- ness and misery. Now all beings confessedly continue the same, during the whole time of their existence. Consider then a living being now existing, and whi'^h litis existed for any time ahve : this hving being must he ve done and suf- fered and enjoj^ed, what it has done and suffered and enjo;>'ed formerly, (this living being, I say, and not {»»iother,) as really as it does and suffers and enjoys, what it doe« and suffers and enjoys this instant. All these successive act^ ">ns, enjoyments, and sufferings, are actions, enjoyments, and s»^fferir.gs, of the same living being. And they are so, prior to ill considera tion of its remembering or forgetting; sinre retp*^mbering or forgetting can make no alteration in the truth of past matter of fact. And suppose this being endued with limited powders of knowledge and memory, there is no more difficulty 'n con- ceiving it to have a power of knowing itself to be t}-<" same living being which it was some time ago of reinemlu^nn^ some of its actions, sufferings, and enjoyments, and forgetiii. DISS. I.J OF PERSONAL IDENTITY. 26^ Others, than in conceiving it to know, or remember, oi forget any thing else. Thirdly, Every person is conscious, that he is now the eame 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 per- son'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 per- son, is consciousness that he is the same substance. If the person, or he, be the property of a substance ; still conscious- ness that he is the same property, is as certain a proof that his substance remains the same, as consciousness that he re mains the same substance 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, hving 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 ; be- cause 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, may doubt also, 'A'-hether perception by deduction and reasoning, which also include memory, or, indeed, whether intuitive perception can. Here then we can go no farther. For it is ridiculous to at- tempt to prove the truth of those perceptions, whose truth we can no otherwise prove, than by other perceptions of exactly tl e same kind with them, and which there is just the same ground to suppc^ct ; or to attempt to prove the truth of our fa* cuUies, which can no otherwise be proved, than by the iwc m vrieans of those very suspected faculties tuemselves. -0*4 OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. [dISS. U DlSSERTATIOaN II OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. Tn4i which renders beings capable of moral govemmen», is their having a moral nature, and moral faculties of percep* twn and of action. Brute creatures are impressed and actu- ated 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 thoughts ; and on doing this, we naturally and unavoidably approve some actions, under the peculiar view of their being virtuous and of good desert ; and disapprove others, as vicious a«nd of ill desert. That we have this moral approving and disapproving* faculty, is certain from our experiencing it in ourselves, and recognis'ug it in each other. It appears from our exercising it unavoidably, in the approbation and disap- probation 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 chimeri- ♦Tlus way of speaking is taken from EpictetvTs,t and is made use of ae> seeming the most full, and least liable to cavil. And the moral fa- tuity may be understood to have these two epithets, ioKiiiaarmri and airoScKifiaoTiKr], upon a double account ; because, upon a survey of ac- tions, whether before or after they are done, it determines (.hem to be good or evil ; and also because it determines itself to oe the guide of ac- tion and of life, in contradistinction from all other faculties, or natural prin- ciples of action : in the very same manner, as speculative reason directly and naturally judges of speculative truth and falsehood ; and, at the game time, is attended with a consciousness upon reflection, that the natural right to judge oi them belongs to it. t Arr. Epict. lib. i. cap. 1. DUSS. II,] OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUF.. 2t$5 cal : from our natural sense of gratiti ae, which implies a dis- tinction between merely being the instrument of good, and intending it : from the like distinction, every one makes, be- tween injury and mere harm, which Hobbes says, is pecuiiai to mankind ; and between injury and just punishment, a dis- tinction plainly natural, prior to the consideration of human laws. It is manifest, great part of common language, and of commo*^ behaviour over the world, is formed upon supposition of such a moral faculty ; whether called conscience, moral reason, .i>"j;'i' sense, or divine reason ; whether considered aa a sentiment of the understanaing, 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 dis- puted wherein virtue consists, or whatever gromid 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, which the primary and fundamental laws of all civil constitutions, over the face of the earth, make il 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, that we have such a faculty or discernment as this, it may be of use to remark some things, more distinctly concerning it. First, It ought to be observed, that the object of this fa culty 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 person, we call, his character. It does not appear, that brutes have the least reflex sense of actions, as distinguished from events ; or that will and design, which constitute the very nature of actions as sMch, are at all an object to their perception. But to ours tiiey are ; and they are the object, and the only one, of the approving and disapproving faculty. Acting, conduct, be- haviour, abstracted from all regard to what is, in fact and evert, the consequence of it, is itself the natural object of the inoral discernment, as speculative truth and falsehood is ol ♦ ovSt ^ aptirri Kai KaKia — cr itcktci, aWu fvfjjyaflt. - M. Anton. 1. 9. 16 ^tutis laas omnis in actione consistit. Cic. Off. I. I.e. 6. 12 266 OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. i)IS8. 11 speculative reason. Intention of such and such consequence.^; indeed, is always in'^luded ; for it is part of the action itself, out though the intended good or bad consequences do net follow, we have exactly the same sense of the ar'ioii as ii 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 poM^er 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 a3 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 morally good or evil, implies in it a sense or discernment of them as of good or ill desert. It may be difficult to explain this percep- tion, 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 expres- sion. Now, the meaning plainly is, not that we conceive it for the good of society, that the doer of such actions, shovdd 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 coming near him, the infection should spread ; no one would say, he deserved this treatment. Innocence and ill desert are incon- sistent ideas. Ill desert always supposes guilt ; and if one be not part of the other, yet they are evidently and naturally coimected in our mind. The sight of a man in misery r-^ises pur 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, ar.i 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 con- ception of that in the sufferer, which we call ill desert. Upoii considering then, or viewing together, our notion of vice and ►hat 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 wer« nothing; but being most unqueetionabl;' natural, it greatJj DiaS. n.J OP THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 267 concerns us o attend to it, instead of endeavoiTnj_f to explain it away. I* may be ouserved farther, 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 auch instances of virtue proceed from a virtuous principle, or m vhat degree this principle is prevalent ; since a very weak legard to virtue may be sufficient to make men act well in many common instances. And on the other hand, our per- ception 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. ^Thirdbj^ Our perception of vice and ill deserts 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 deter- mination 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 «. \so with respect to positive vices, or such as consist in doing wi .n we ought not. For, every one has a different sense ol harm done by an idiot, madman, or child, and by one of mature and common understanding ; though the action of both, incljding the intention, which is part of the action, be the same : as it may be, since idiots and madmen, as well ag children, are capable, not only of doing mischief, but also of intenJlng it. Now, this difference must arise from somewhat discerned in tne 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 comparipon, whether reflected upon or not, between ths action and capacities of the agent, previous to our deter mining an action to be vicious. And hence arises a propel application of the epithets, incongruous, unsuitable, dispio- portionate, unfit, to actio^^s which our moral faculty determmes IQ be vicious. 268 OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. |^D1SS. Ilk Fourthly^ It deserves '.o be considered, whether men are mor3 at liberty, in point of morals, to make themselves misera- ble without reason, than to make other people so ; or disso lutely to neglect th^ir 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. Jf should seem, that a due concern about our own interest oi happiness, and a reasonable endeavor to secure and promote Ji-, 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 blameable : 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 difl'erent from mere desire of our own, or of their happiness, and tiom 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 con- duct. It is true, indeed, that nature has not given us so sen- sible a disapprobation of imprudence and folly, either in our- selves or others, as of falsehood, injustice, and cruelty ; I suppose, because that constant habitual sense of private inte- rest and good, which we always carry about with us, renders such sensible disapprobation less necessary, less wanting, to •ceep us from imprudently neglecting our own happiness, and foolishly injuring ourselves, than it is necessary and wantin^r to keep us from injuring others, to whose good we cannot have so strong and constant a regard ; and also, because impru- der'^e and folly, appearing to bring its own punishment, more imr^icdiately and constantl}'- than injurious behaviour, it lesfe needs the additional punishment which would be inflicted upon !t by others, had they the same sensible indignj^tion against 't. as against injustice, and fraud, and cruelty. Besides, unhap- piness being in itself the natural object of compassion, the unhappiness which people bring upon themselves, though it rje wilfully, excites in us some pity for them ; and t'lis, 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 greater instances of imprudent neglect and foolish rashness, both in ourselves and others. In instances of this kind, men often say of themselves with remorse, and of o '.hers with some indignation, that they deserve to sufFef «nch calamities, because they brought them upon themselves DII8. II.] OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 269 and would not take warnirg. Particjlariy when persons come to poverty and distress by a lor.g co;n*se oi' extrava- gance, and after frequent admonitions, thougli without false- hood or injustice; we plainly do not legard such people as like 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 by/o%, 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 scarce 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 t'icc, as not applicable to prudence and foil}'' ; but must beg leave to insist, that the faculty within us, which rs the judge of ac- tions, approves of prudent actions and disapproves imprudent ones ; I say, prudent and imprudent actions as such, and con- sidered distinctly from the happiness or misery which they occasion. And by the way, this observation may help tt? determine, what justness there is in that objection against re- ligion, 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 into the warn of it ; it may be proper to observe, that benevolence, and tho want of it, singly considered, are in no sort the whole of virtue and vice. Y^i 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 never approve ol benevolence to some persons rather than to others, nor disap- prove 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 advantafje to each of them ; though nothing indeed would be more impeirinent, than for a siranger to busy himself to get one of thoci prefer- red to the other ; yet such endeavor wovdfl be ^ irti e, m bArAi of a friend or benefactor, abstracted from all consideratu n of distant consequences: as that example of gratitude, an>l the cultivation of friendship, would be of geneial gooti to the world. Again, suppose one man should, by fraud or vic'ence 270 OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. [^DISS. li take from another the fruit of his labor with intent to give it ta a third, wno, he thought, would have as much pleasure firoro 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, farther, were treachery, violence, and mjustice, no otherwise vicious, than as foreseen likely to produce an overbalance of misery to society ; then, if in any case a man coidd procure to himsell as great advantage by an act of injustice, as the whole fore- Bcen 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 a.s an end but the production of happiness, w^ere his moral character merely that of benevolence ; yet oiu's 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 to otiiers, and disapprobation oi falsehood, unprovoked violence, and injustice, must be, that he foresaw this constitution of our n;..ture w^ould produce more happiness, than forming us with a temper of mere generai benevolence. But still, since this is our constitution, false- hood, violence, injustice, must be vice in us, and benevolence to some preferably to others, vir^^^e, abstracted from all consi- deration 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, ir rewarding and punishing them, as tliey follow, neglect, or depart from, the moral rule of action interwoven m tlieijr nature, or suggested and enforced by this moral faculty ;* in rewarding and punishing them upon account of their so Joing I am not sensible that I have, in this fifth observation, con- tradicted what any author designed to assert. But 301 ue oi ♦ Pvt ii. Chap. 8. 01S8. II.] OF THE NATURE OF VIRTUE. 27l great and distinguished merit have, I think, expressed then> selves in a manner, which ma^' occasion some danger to care less readers, of imagining the u^hole of virtue to consist in eingly aiming, according to the best of their judgment, at promotinn: the happiness of mankind in the present^ state j 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 o .njustice, adultery, murder, perjury, and even of persecution, may, m many supposable cases, not have the appearance of "i-emg likeh' to produce an overbalance of misery in the pre- sent state ; perhaps sometimes may have the contrary appear- ano^j. For this reflection might easily be carried on ; but 1 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 endeavor to pronute the good of mankind in any ways but those which he has direct- ed ; that is, indeed, in all ways not contrary to veracity and justice. I speak thus upon supposition of persors really endeavoring, in some sort, to do good without regard to these. But the ti'uth seems to be, that such supposed endea-'ors pro- ceed, almost always, from ambition, the spirit of party, or some indirect principle, concealed perhaps in great mea'iure from persons themselves. And though it is our business and our duty to endeavor, within the bounds of veracity and Jus- tice, to contribute to the ease, convenience, and even chtrorfui- ness and diversion of our fellow-creatures ; yet, from our short views, it is greatly uncertain whether this endeavor 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 appear- ance sufficient to balance this, on the contrary side ; and also, that such benevolent endeavor is a cultivation of that most excellent of all virtuous principles, the active principle of be- nevolence. However, though veracity, as well as justice, is to be o»', rule of life, it must be added, otherwise a snare will be laid ia •he way of some plain men, that the use of common forms oi speech generally understood, cannot be falsehood ; and, in general, that there can be no designed falsehood without de- signing to deceive. It must likc^^^se be observed, that, in tUTY^berless cases, a man may be under the strictest obligations 97 TlIC MATUftS OF STIRTUS. fc vnat he f->resees will deceive, without his inten'tiiig ii. Fj^ It IS impossible not to foresee, that the words and at 'ions o men in different ranks and employments, and of different eiu* cations, will perpetually be mistaken by each other ; ami it camwt tut be so, whilst they will judge -with the utmost care- lessness, as they daily do, of what they are not, perhaps, enough informed to be competent judges o£ even though XMtyi vc£>iidered it with ^reat attentioD QUESTIONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOGY BY BEV. LEONIDAS L. SMITH, NORFOLK, VA. NEW YORK: IVISON, BLAKEMAN, TAYLOR & CO. 187 2. according to Act ot congress, In the year I88t BY NEWMAN &. IVISON, 1b tlM Clerk'* office of the Southern District of New fork. THE ANALOGY OF RELIGION INTRODUCTION. 1. How is probable evidence distinguished from demonstrative J 2. Does a slight presumption for a thing make it probable ? 3. How does it appear that it is of the nature of a probability ? and illustrate. 4. What constitutes probability ? and illustrate. 6. Do we act on probable evidence ? 6. What is sufficient to determine the question, even in matters of speculation ? 7. What effect should such a presumption have on us in matters of practice ? and illustrate. 8. Quote the remark of Origen. 9. What would amount to a presumption that the Maker and Governor of this world, is also the author of Revelation 7 10. The error of Des Cartes ? 11. What error is like it ? 12. What method of arguing is open to us ? 13. What does Bp. B. take for granted in the outset; and why? 14. What would many, probably, suppose to be the best system of nature, that could be devised ? 15. What is a full, direct, and general answer to this ? 16. Mention several things of which we are incompetent judges. 17. What practical proof of God's moral perfection is mentioned? 18 What conclusion may we draw from this ? 19. What is the pfen of this book ? 20. What does Bp. B. propose to show ? 21. What will the analogy, here proposed to be considered, teach us ? 22. What objections against natural and revealed religion, will it answer ? 23. How much is contained in the divine government ex tha world ? 24: What then, is the design of the following Treatise ? 85 Why does the author begin with, The Future life f ' PARTI. OF NATURAL EELIGIOlf. CHAPTER I. OF A FUTURE LIFE. 1 What does tlie author propose to consider in this (jhapter ? 2 What genera] law of nature in our own species, is mentioned ! 3. Show that the same law holds in other creatures. 4, What inference do you deduce from this ? 6. What presumption is there, that we shall retain, after death, our capacities of action, of happiness, of misery, &c. ? 6. Is this anything more than a presumption ? and why ? 7. What term expresses this kind of presumption, or probability ? 8. What reason have we for believing that anything, now exist- ing, will continue to exist a moment longer? 9. If death be not the destruction of our living powers, what can destroy them ? 10. Show the ambiguity of the phrase, destruction of living pou>> ers ; and in what sense is it here used ? See note. 11. What admission does the author here make ? 12. Is there any reason for this apprehension ? J 3. If there be, from what must i't arise ? 14. Why can we not argue from the reason of the thing that death is the destruction of living agents ? 1 5. What do we know of death ? 16. Do these effects imply the destruction of the living agent ? 17. On what does the exercise of our living powers, or the power* themselves, depend ? 18. What may we infer, with reference to them, from sleep, or, a swoon, (or a trance ?) 19. What then, may we infer, will be the effect of death ? 20. The conclusion from all this ? 21. Is there anything in the whole Analogy of Nature, that af- fords us the slightest presumption, that animals evei lose tneir living powers ? 22. What fact constitutes a probability of their retaining them after death? liS. By what is this confirmed ? 24. Why then, does the author consider the imaginary prdsunip- tious that death will be our destruction, arising trom our early and lasting prejudices? 25, On what supposition alone, can be founded the presumption of death's being the destruction of living beings? 26 How would you show ihat they are uncompounded, and so not discerptible ? 27 If then, every living agent is a single being, what relation does his body bear to him ? 28 What then, may we infer from this fact ? 29. What reason have we, even without determining whether our living substances be material or immaterial, to conclude that our bodies are no part of ourselves ? 30. State some of these facts, or experimental observations. 31. What may we learn from them? 3J. The first remark suggested by this geneml observation ? 33. The second remark, &c. ? 34. Are our bodies now the same they were a few years ago ? 35 The inference from this ? 36. The first objection noticed, and how answered ? 37. The second objection, and how answered ? 38. What do these observations show us ? 3&. The third remark suggested, &c. ? 40. Illustrate. 41. What is all that is intended to be affirmed by these observa lions ? 42. How is it shown that our organs of sense are not percipients ? 43. How is it shown that our active power remains, even after the destruction of a limb ? 44. What then, are our organs of sense, and our limbs ? 45. Have we any other kind of relationship to them, (710^ degree) than we have to a telescope or a staff? 6. What would you infer from this ? 7. What objection to this reasoning is noticed ? 48. What is remarked of it? 49. The first reply to it? 50. Prior to experience, could the superiority of human creatures to brutes, be inferred ? ' 51. What general law of nature on this subject is mentioned ? 52. The second reply to the objection ? 53 On what are all such objections founded? o4 What observation, peculiar to mankind, and to which this objection does not apply, is here made ? 65. In what two states of life and perception do human creatures at present exist ? 66. Can it be shown that death dissolves anything which is ne- cessary to us in our state of reflection, after ideas are gained? and why ? 57. The inference from this fact ? 68. What argume) t is furnished by many diseases ? 6 QUESTIONS ON BUTLER'S ANALO&Y. 69. What presumption arises from one single instance of mcrtal disease not aiFecting tlie mind ? 60. The natural tendency of such instances ? 61. What is said of them as compared with the effects of sleep ? 62. How is this observation carried still further? 63. What facts afford a sensible apprehension that death does not even suspend the exercise of our reflective powers ? 64 In what respects does death answer to our birth ? 66. In what state may it place us ? 66. What is said of our relation to our external organs of sense? 67 Even were it certain that death would suspend all our percep- tive and active powers, would this imply their destruction? If not, why ? 68. What shadow of analogy might lead one to imagine this ? 69. Show that there appears not even ground for the comparison. 70. The conclusion from all these things ? 71. Since then, it is probable there is a future state, what may it be? 72. How may its advantages naturally be bestowed ? 73. What is remarked of the word, natural ? 74. The inference from this ? 75. What purposes ara answered by the credibility of a future life, which only, has been here insisted on ? 76. Would even a demonstrative proof be a proof of religion ? 77. Why not ? 78. How much has been effected by the foregoing observations 1 CHAPTER 11. OF THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD BY REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 1. Why is the question concerning a future life so important 7 2. Why is its consideration so important ? 3. How should the least presumption of a future life affect us ? 4. What remark is made respecting our happiness and misery in ihe present state ? 5. Have we any enjoyment without our own exertions ? 3. Are all our sufferings also, owing to our own follies ? 7. Why is our condition here made dependent on ourselves, in great measure ? What suppositions are mentioned ? S. What objection is made, and how answered ? I What are men apt to conclude from the uniformity of the course of nature ? ). If the natural course of things be of God's appointment, can the good and bad consequences that follow our action* be fortuitous ? QUESTIONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOGY. ' 11. What is remarked of our foresight of these consequences? 12. Is the pleasure then, naturally accompanying every particular gratiiication of passion, intended as an incentive to us tc gratify our passions, or as a reward to us for s doing? 13. Illustrate this answer. 14. What may we learn from this fact? 15. What is the proper formal notion of government ? 16. Is the fact of God's government affected by the manner in which pleasure and pain follow our actions ? 17. Illustrate. 18. Are all the little ills and ailments of life to be considered as instances of divine punishment ? (chastisement). 19. Show that they are, and illustrate. 20. What then, is the true notion of the author of nature ? 21. What does the analogy of nature teach us ? 22. Why does the author propose to dwell still further on this subject ? 23. What, thus far, has been shown ? 24. What are the circumstances of these natural punishments that particularly deserve our attention ? 1st, 2d, 3d, 4th, 6th. 25. What is said of the follies of youth ? 26. What, of opportunities of improvement ? and illustrate. 27. Is there a limit to self-indulgence and sin, beyond which, reformation is unavailing ? 28. What is equally as ruinous as misbehavior ? 29. What is remarked of civil punishments ? 30. The teachings of reason and of revelation respecting a future state of punishment ? See note. 31. What is remarked of the frequency of these natural punish ments ? 32. The language of wisdom, in the Book of Proverbs ? 33. How, more literally expressed ? . 34. Give a general account of the constitution of nature with re- spect to natural punishments. Ha. Is it intended to be affirmed here, that men are uniforialy punished in proportion to their misdeeds ? ic. What is meant to be affirmed ? *7. The tendency of such reflections ? \S. Why is it necessary that men should be reminded that, even on skeptical principles, there is no ground for presuming that the^e will be rto future state ? ,V9, What remark may hold good of any individual ? 40. Is there any pretence for affirming that there is nothing, in tills life, analogous to a future state of rewards and puniiJ'- mcnts ? 6 QUESTIONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOOT. CHAPTER III. OF THE MORAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 1. Wliat proves this world to be the work of an Intelhgent Mindl 2. How may it be shown that we are under divine government ? 3. How much is implied in this remark ? 4. Does this fact alone prove that we are under moral govern- ment ? 6. In what does moral government consist ? 6. In what, the perfection of moral government ? 7. What is the opinion that some seem to entertain of the charac- ter of God? 8 Considered as a principle of action, infinite in degree, what is absolute benevolence ? 9. Supposing this to be the only character of God, what would veracity and justice be in Him ? to. Is this actually the case ? 11. What is the question here to be inquired into ? 12. Is there any spot in the Universe in which God manifests Him- self as a Being of infinite, absolute benevolence ? 13. In what character does He manifest Himself to us ? 1 4. How is this shown ? 15. Are the intimations of the moral government ot God, given in nature, clear to all persons ? 16. Why are not the objections to natural religion, arising from this fact, noticed here ? See note. 17. Is the government of this world the perfection of moral gov- ernment ? 18. What is remarked of it ? 19. The design of the present chapter ? 20. What instance of moral government established in nature, is here noticed ? 21. What is remarked concerning it? 22. How is this remark illustrated ? 23. What also, does experience teach us ? 24. Mention one circumstance that makes reformation difficult. 25. Should these taunts be set down to the account of the reforma- tion, or of former vices ? S6. Is it then, doubtful, whether virtue on Ihe whole, be happier than vice, in the present world ? 27. What should the admitted fact, that God governs the world, lead us attentively to consider? 28. Why cannot the future rewarding and punishing of men, be considered as absurd or chimerical ? 29. What instances of a right constitution cf nature are daily af- forded ? ?0. What is oroved bv this ? .QUESTIONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOGY. , 9 31. The natural consequences of vicious aclions? 32. What may be regarded as a declaraiion of nat ire aga"]**! theni ? 33. What is necessary to the very being of society ? 34. To what does this observation amount ? 35. What objection is here noiiced ? and how answered ? 36. For what otlier reason than as being mischievous to society, i.s vice punished ? 37. Of what does this afford an instance ? 38. Illustrate the distinction between actions themselves, and *ha; quality ascribed to them, which we call virtuous or vicious, 39. Of what are the immediate etiects of virtue and vice on tjie mind and temper, illustrative ? 40. What is remarked of our fears and hopes of a future life ? 41. What other consideration is mentioned, confirmatory of the same truth ? 42. State the argument at large. 43. Mention several other particulars, &c. 44. What circumstance is mentioned as a proof of our being under moral government ? 45. What examples of it are given ? 46. Is vice, as such, ever rewarded, or virtue as such, punished t 47. How is this explained? 48. Illustrate your answer. 49. Show why there can be nothing on the side of vice to answer to this. 50. Suppose an instance of approbation of vice, as such, could be found, what would you say of it ? 51. The conclusion from this reasoning? 62. What qualification is here made ? 53. Has the author asserted that happiness and misery are distribu- ted according to merit and demerit ? 54. What results sometimes flow from the world's being governed by general laws ; and from our happiness and misery being in each other's power ? 55. Why is not this inconsistent with what has already been af- firmed ? 56. But does it not show that nature intended it ? 57. Of what then, may these things be considered a declaration ? 58 The consequence of co-operating with the divine administra- tion ? 59, By what is this hope confirmed ? 60. What are these tendencies of virtue and vice ? 61 By what comparison is the tendency of virtue to prevail over vice, illustrated ? 62. The first case put, and the argument ? 53. The second supposition, and the argument ? 64. The third supposition, and the argument ? 65. How is it shown that irrational animals have sometimes the superiority over rational ones '^ - It QUESTIONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOGY. 66. In what ways is the tendency of virtue to procure supenority shown ? 67. What is necessary in order to the prevalence of virtue ? 68. What arc some of the hindrances to its prevalence ? 69. Is it likely to prevail hereafter, and why ? 70. The natural tendency of virtue, when seen by the vicious ? 71. Why are such suppositions mentioned ? 72. 1 \ow should these advantageous tendencies of virtue be viewed I 73. W hat other supposition is made? 74. Describe this kingdom ; and what would be its influence ? 75. Is such a kingdom possible ? 76. But is it not the tendency of virtue to produce such a state of things ? 77. How should this tendency be considered ? 78. If any one should think all this to be of little importance, how would you show him otherwise ? 79. What objection might be here started ? 80. How answered ? 81. What admission is here made ? 82. The first thing shown by the things considered in this chapter! 83. How do they show this ? 84. The second thing shown ? 85. The third confirmation of a future state, arising from what -has been said ? 86. The fourth one mentioned ? and explain. 87. Sum up the argument of this chapter. 88. Of what does it afford a strong presumption ? CHAPTER IV. JT A STATE OF PROBATION, AS IMPLYING TRIAL, DIFFICULTIES, AND DANGER. 1. What is implied in the doctrine, that the present life is a pro- bationary state ? 2. What is meant by this ? and why ? 3. Point out the difference between probation and moral govern* merit. 4. What is implied in moral, and in natural government ? 6. In what does natural government consist ? 6. And this necessarily implies what ? 7. Why should a man's temporal interest be in danger from Him- self? 8. How is it shown that these temptations exist ? 9. The inference from all this ? 10. How will this more distinctly appear ? QUESTIONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOGY. ij U. What in it that constitutes this our trial ? 12. In what cases would our wrong behavior be imputed to ouf circumstances ; and m what, lo our nature ? 13. What is remarked of the influence of evil passions? 14. Could any one be led astray by circumstances, if theie was nothing in him to render these circumstances, temptations* ? 15. What also, is implied, when it is said, one is misled by pas- sions 1 16. How is it shown that we are in a like state of trial with respect to this life and the future, by the same passions, excited by the same means ? 17. Show the analogy between our state of trial in our temporal, and in our religious capacity, 18. State, at large, the conduct of men, in view of this state. 19. By what are the difficulties and dangers of miscarrying in our religious state of trial, occasioned ? 20. By what, the difficulties of conducting ourselves prudently in respect to our present interests ? 21. How are these difficulties often increased ? 22. Illustrate. 23. What is our relative position among the creatures of God ? 24. Why is this not a just ground of complaint ? 25. What renders the state of trial which religion teaches us we are in, credible ? 26. On what supposition would it seem strange that our happi- ness hereafter should depend on our conduct in this life ? 27. How would men argue in such a case ? 28. How would you show from analogy, that self-denial and laho- rious effi)rt are necessary to secure future happiness ? 29. Why has God mqde such effort necessary ? 30. State in full, the argument of this chapter. , CHAPTER V. OF A STATE OP PROBATION, AS INTENDED FOR MORAL D:9- C IP LINE AND IMPROVEMENT. 1. Having seen that we ^re in a probationary state, of much difh- culiy and hazard, what question naturally suggests itself ? 2. Is it one of easy solution t 3. What considerations may lessen some cf tho difficulties at- tending it ? 4. Is it desirable to know how to answer >t ? 6. What does religion teach us with tenpect to cu.* present condi- tion? 6. To what is this trial compared T 12 QUESTIONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOGY. 7. The first remark, intended to show, more distinctly, the anal* oyy between them ? 8. Show the correspondence between the nature and the externa, condition of man. 9. What would be the result, if this correspondence did not existi 10. How would you show that we cannot be happy hereafter, unless we dire fitted for heaven ? 11 The second remark, intended, &-c. ? 12. Mention some of the things of which we are capable. 13. The effect of habits on us ? 14. Give an instance of - abits of perception. 15. Also of habits of action. 16. How may our habits be classified ? 17. What may be included under the formei* 18. What, under the latter? 19. How are bodily and mental habits produced? 20. Why cannot mental habits be formed by any external course of action ? 21. How may one form [jfood habits ? 22. What is remarked of the effect of going over the theory of virtue in one's thoughts, talking well, drawing fine pictures of it, &c. ? 23. How is this explained ? and illustrate. 24. What inference would you draw from these facts ? 25. The teachings of experience on this subject ? 26. Mention three instances in which this is verified. 27. The effect of admonition, experience, example, &c. ? 28. What is the particular thing insisted upon here ? 29. How is this shown ? 30. Why were these capacities of improving by exercise, given usi 3 1 . How are maturity of understanding and bodily strength acquired ? 32. What would be the effect, if one were brought into the world with both these in maturity ? 33. How would such a one be likely to act ? 34. By what are men restrained from acting so, now ? 35. The state of man at birth ? . 36. With what has nature endued him ? 37. In what condition does it place him ? 38. How is he taught to govern himself? 39. How, to make his way through the world ? 40. How do men become qualified for the employments of life? 4 1. What is analogous to the discipline which childhood and youth afford us ? 42. Suppose we know 'not how the present life prepares us for a future state, why is this no objection to the credibility of its doing so ? Illustrate. 43. But, are we ignorant of this fact ? 44. Show how it is such a preparation. 46. What, might we reasonably infer, from what we at present see< will be our state hereafter ? QUESTIONS ON BUTLERS ANALOGY. 13 46. Have we any analogy for supposing that it will be under the more immediate, or more sensible government of God ? 47. Will there be any occasion in heaven, for the exercise of vera- city, justice, and charity ? 48. Will there be any occasion for that frame of mind or character which is formed by the daily practice of these virtues here ? 49. Why do we need moral improvement ? 60. Whence arises this danger of deviating from what is right, even anterior to the formation of evil habits ? 61. Why cannot the principle of virtue excite these affections, nor ^ prevent them being excited ? 62. When are they felt? 63. What is our security against the danger arising from these nat- ural affections ? 64. Since these affections are a source of danger, are they innocent ? 65. What, have some thought, is sufficient to restrain them ? See note. 66. What two meanings may be attached to the phrase, sense of interest ? 67. What is remarked of the opinion that this alone is a sufficient restraint to men ? 68. Why does this reasonable self-love need to be improved, as much as any other principle in our nature ? 69. How may the principle of virtue be improved ? 60. What then, is our security against the danger arising from the very nature of propension ? ques. 63. 61. Will these natural propensities continue with us in a future state ? 62. The necessity, in such a case, of acquired habits of virtue and self-government? 63. Explain, from these things, how it comes to pass that creatures, made upright, fall ? 64. Illustrate. 65. Explain also, how they may be recovered. 66. What then, may be remarked of vicious indulgence and vir- tuous self-government ? 67. How may one become confirmed in holiness ; at least, so far as it is possible to become so ? , 68. Can one, who comes blameless out of the hands of God, (as e g. Adam did) be said to be so confirmed ? 69. What would such a one need ? 70 In what circumstances would they need to be placed? '71. If improvement is necessary to upright creatures, what is so tr. those who a«i-e depraved ? * 72. Why is discipline so necessary to them ? 73. In what respects is the present world peculiarly fit to be a State of discipline ? . 74. Why is such experience as the present state affords, better foi us than a mere speculative knowledge ? 76. To what may the security of the saints in heaven be owing? 14 QUESTIONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOWT. 76. Why d( the snares und temptations of vice render this «eorla so fit to be a state of discipline to those who will preserve their integrity ? 77. How is the habit of virtue formed ? and illustrate. 78. To what is self-denial essential ? 79. How may this tendency to improvement be increased ? 80. What apparent exception to these observations is here mentioned ? 81. Does the present world actually prove to the generality of men, a discipline of virtue ? 82. What is the great thing which renders this world a state of discipline, to good men ? ? 83. Why is the admitted fact, that the present world does not ac- tually become a state of moral discipline to many, a proof that it was not intended to be such ? Illustrate. 84. What remark, though not to the present purpose, is suggested by this illustration ? 86. What objection may be urged to this whole notion of moral discipline ? 86. How is it answered ? 87. What three great motives to obedience are mentioned ; and what is said of them ? 88. What is said of him who begins a good life from any one of them, and perseveres in it ? 89. What other essential part of a right character, is here men- tioned ? 90. What alone, is it generally supposed, can gfive occasion for, oi require this virtue ? 91. Show that this is a mistaken opinion? 92. Of what benefit is sorrow to us, since we shall not need pa tience, hereafter ? 93. Show that habits of resignation may be necessary for all crea tures. 94. How may these habits be formed, without the aid of affliction ? 95. Why is afliiction the proper discipline for resignation ? 96. How is that character in us which answers to God's sovereign ty, formed ? 97. Is the character which is necessary for us in mature life, ever bestowed by nature alone ? 98. How is it acquired ? 99. To what is this analogous ? 100. What objection is vainly urged hjre ? 101. How is it shown to be of no force ? 102. What is a general law of nature, respecting our conUition in this life ? m 103. The conclusion from this ? 104. The third thing implied in this world's being a state cf pro- bation ? 1 05. W^hat may be the design of this ? 108. Show that probation, in both these senses, is implied in moral government 1 QUESTIONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOGY. If CHAPTER VI. 3F THE OPINION OF NECESSITY, CONSIDERED AS INFLUENC NQ PRACTICE. 1 . What is the opinion orf the fatalist ? 2 If this be correct, what question naturally suggests i*v^lf? 3. Is the question to be discussed, in this chapter, absolute or hj* pothetical ? 4. Why need such a question to be discussed here ? ■ 5. Show that the doctrine of necessity does not exclude delibera- tion, choice, preference, &.c. 6. Admitting the doctrine of necessity to be true, for argument's sake, what does it not, and what does it, account for ? 7. What question is answered by this assertion ? and what is not answered ? 8. How is this illustrated ? 9. Why do we ascribe to God a necessary existence ? 10. Is anything said to be necessary, in the same sense ? 11. What two things follow from this admission ? 12. The question now to be discussed? 1 3. What supposition is here made ? 14. What would be the influence of such an education ? 15. How would such a child need to be treated? 16. What conclusion would he draw from such treatment? 17. What would soon convince him of his error ? 18. What are some of the absurdities into which his principle? would lead the fatalist ? 19. The inference from this ? 20. If the constitution of the present world, and the condition in which we are placed, are the same as if we were free, can we be otherwise than free ? 21. What is the thing here insisted upon ? 22. If the opinion of necessity always misleads us here^ when applied to life and practice, of what should the fatalist be afraid ? 23. The conclusion from these things? 24. If the possession of will, temper, tastes, disposition, etc., in us, be reconcilable with the doctrine of fate, why not also, at- tribute will, character, &c. to the Supreme Governor ? 25. What other attributes then, (the foundation of religion) may belong to Him ? 26. Show that the notion of justice cannot 5e eradicated from the mind. 27. Does the doctrine of necessity destroy the proof of religion ? 28. Show why it does not ? 29. Why does the author propose to consider this subject more particularly ? 16 QUESTIONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOGY. 30. What things already proved, are not affected by this doctrine ? 31. What is implied in the possession of a moral faculty? 32. How is it shown that the dictates of conscience are the lawa of God ? 33. What is necessarily included i« a command ? 34. For what pi-rpose was the perception of good and ill desert given us ? 35. The inference from this ? 36. What obligations result from this ? 37. Why can no objection from necessity lie against this general proof of religion ? 38. IIow do we arrive at the conclusion that God will reward the righteous and punish the wicked ? 39. How is it shown that He has told us so ? 40. How is this reasoning from facts, confirmed ? 41. State, in full, the nature of the external evidence which natu^ ral religion has, and which the doctrine of necessity, if it were- true, would not affect? 42. What three things would be manifest to one, examining tlie history of religion ? 43. What are shown by these facts ? 44. Did religion come into the world by revelation, or was it the result of reasoning, etc. 1 45. What deserves here to be carefully observed with respect to speculative reason ; and of what should this admonish us? 46. What might be said in reply to these arguments ? 47. Reply to this reasoning. 48. Where lies the laljacy ? 49. Where, upon the supposition of necessity ? 50. Show that there must, of necessity, be a fallacy somewhere. 51. If it be incredible that necessary agents should be rewarded and punished, what conclusion would follow with respect to man ? 52. But if it be insisted on that men are not free, what conclusion would follow ? 63. What then, does the Analogy of Nature teach us on this sub- ject ? 64. What else, may we learn from these things ? CHAPTER VII. OF lUV: GOVERNMENT OF GOD, CONSIDERED AS A SCHEME, OK CONSTITUTION, IMPERFECTLY COMPREHENDED. 1. What objections may be brought against religion, to v/hicii analogy can be no direct answer ? 2. What is all, analogy can do ? QtJEPflONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOGY. 1: 8. In what way may it be of service in answering such objectionsi 4 What general answer may be given to all objections against the justice and goodness of God's moral goverc jnent ? 5. What does analogy show us with respect to the schema of moral government ? 6. Can there be any action or event entirely unconnected with every other action or event ? 7. Suppose it have not, so far as we can judge, any immediate connection with other actions ; what comiusion may we yet draw ? 8. What reason may we assign for such a conclusion ? 9. By what agency is everything in nature brought about ? 10. What is said of the agency of oven the most insignificant ac- tions ? 11. What should lead us to infer that the moral world and govern- ment of God should be incomprehensible? ' 12. What is said of the connection between the natural and moral constitution and government of the world ? 13. What is the particular thing to be observed here ? 14. Illustrate your meaning by examples? 15. Supposing this to be the case, why are we not competent judges of this scheme ? 16. Are men willing to acknowledge their ignorance, when they come to argue against religion ? 17. How, have some asserted, might the origin and continuance of evil have been prevented ? 18. How may these objections be answered ? 19. Were these assertions true, what is the most they would prove ? 20. How is it shown that they are mere arbitrary assertions ? 3.T. If a m.an, contemplating any one providential dispensation, should object, that he discerned in it a disregard to justice, or a deficiency of goodness, how might he be answered ? 22. Why should this be considered a satisfactory answer ? 23. In what other way, may it be shown how little weight is to be laid upon such objections ? 24. The first thing noticed, in illustration of this remark ? 25. What else does experience teach us ? 26. What may we infer from these observations ? 27. Suppose we cannot see any tendency in these means to produce such effects, is this any presumption against the fact? 28. What then, may be observed of those things which we call ir- regularities? 29. "What absurd and wicked conclusion have some drawn from these observations ? 30. What remark is made to obviate any such conclusion ? 31. How is this remark illustrated ? 32. IIow is the natural government of the world carried on ? 33. "What should lead us to conclude that there are wise and ?vXjc reasons for this ? 34 How is this illustrated ? 18 QUESTIONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOQT. 35. Can irregularities possibly be prevented by general laws * 36 What are we apt to think in regard to them ? 37. What would be the natural effects of such interpositions ? 38. Are the visible and immediate effects all that would result from them? 39. What then, may we conclude from these things? 40. What objection may still be urged ? 41. The first reply to it? 42. Illustrate this answer. 43. Why is it frivolous to assert that our ignorance invalidates the proof of religion, as it does the objections against it ? 44. The second reply to the objection ? 45. Whence do moral obligations arise ? 46. Show that they would be certain too, from considerations of interest ? *17. The third reply to the objection ? 48. The fourth and last reply ? 49. What does analogy show us ? 60. Show that, by taking into account our ignorance, we are judg- ing from experience. CONCLUSION. 1. What may we learn, with respect to this little scene of human life, from the observations of the last chapter ? 2. What is remarked of the course of things which comes within our view ? 5. What, of the scheme of divine government, in which we are placed ? 4. Why are we compelled to assume the existence of an intelli- gent Author and Governor of the world ? 6. Wliat is implied in the very notion of such a Being ? 6. What leads us to conclude that this will and character must be moral, just, and good ? 7. What led the Author of the world to form and govern it, as Ho does ? 8. Wliat thoughts should this naturally excite in our minds ? 9. Why should we reflect on these things ? 10. What reason have we for concluding that we shall continue to exist hereafter ? 11. The only ground any one can have for supposing otherwise? 12. Show that this is contrary to experience. 13. The only supposition which we ought to go upon ? 14. What will be our condition hereafter ? 15 On what will it probably depend ? 1 6 What reason have we for this opinion t QUESTIONS ON BUTLEr's ANALOGY. 19 17. To what conduct has God annexed happiness ; and to what, misery ? 18. How is this confirmed from the constitution of the world ? 19. What is the objection to the assertion that the tendency of vir- tue is to produce happiness ; and how is it answered ? 20. How then, is it shown that God exercises a moral government over the world ? 21. What inference may we derive from this fact? 22. How would you show that our happiness hereafter will proba bly depend on our conduct here ? 23. And how, also, that there may be difficulty and hazard in se- curing- it ? 24. Why were we placed in such a state of trial, here ? 25. Mention four considerations that render this intention of nature highly credible. 26. On what are objections founded against the whole notion of moral government ? and how have they been answered ? 27. What effect should these things produce on the minds of men t 28. What should be their conduct, in view of these facts? 29. By what consideration is this enforced ? 30. What has sometimes been alleged as an excuse for a vicioiia course of life ? 81. Show that it is a miserable one. 32. What are the proper motives to religion ? 33. By what are the dictates of reason confirmed ? PART II. OF REVEALED RELIGIOlf. CHAPTER I. OF THE IMPORTANCE OF CHRISTIANITY. 1. On what ground do some reject revelation? 2. What, of itself, shows the necessity of revelation ? 3. Why is it a wild and random assertion, that revelation is a thing superfluous, and of no use ? 4. On what ground do others overlook revelation ? 6. What, do they assert, is the only design of it ? 6. What is observed of this way of considering revelation ? 7. On what supposition alone, can it be a matter of indifferenea whether to obey or disobey, the commands of Christianity T 8. Why is it impossible for us to be assured of this ? 9. Under what two aspects may we consider Christianity ? 20 QUESTIONS OX BUTLER'S ANALOGY. 10. How is Christianity a republication ot natural religion ? 11. What more than a republication, is it intended to prove? 12. What were the miracles and prophecies of tha Scriptures ? 13. What else do they prove ? and how ? 14. Show how miracles may prove natural relig-ion. 15. Show, still further, that revelation is an authoritative republica tion of natural religion ? 16. What doctrines are taught in the Gospel, with a clearness, compared with which, the light of nature is darkness ? 17. How does Christianity, now that miracles have ceased, serve the ends and purposes for which it was established ? I^. Why was a visible church instituted ? ly. How does a visible church tend to prouiote natural religion? 20. In what does the visibility of the church consist ? 21. Of what advantage are such institutions ? 22. On what prniciples alone can objections be urged against all this? 23. Can it be truly said that Christianity has ever produced any ill effects ? 24. Why caimot the corruptions and abuses of it be insisted on a? arguments against it, upon principles of theism ? 26. What, are we taught by experience, is God's general rule of government ? 26. What things, thus far, have been mentioned, as showing the importance of (yhristianity ? 27. How is this still further shown, in a practical sense? 28. In what further view is Christianity to be considered ? 29. What is this dispensation, and what are these precepts ? 30. How may the importance of these duties be judged of? 31. Illustrate. 32 In stating this matter more fully, what is the first thing to be considered ? 33. In what does the essence of natural, and of revealed religion consist, considering religion as an inward principle ? 34 From what arises our obligation to pay these regards ? 35. What are these religious regards ? 36. How do we learn in what external manner this inward worship is to be expressed ? 37. Is the worship itself a matter of pure revealed command ? 38. What do those persons forget, who think the Christian religio of little importance, provided natural religion be kept to ? 39. What is said of the c/bstinate, or even careless, disregard to Christ, in His relations to us as Redeemer and God 1 40. Why is it infatuation to neglect to avail one's self of the means of obtaining divine assistance ? 41. The conclusion from all this ? 42. Supposing Christianity to be credible, what is our highest duty! 43. The ^rs^ der* action from the foregoing observations ? 44. What is the distinction between n oral, and positive precepts? 46 From what Jo moral, and from what, positive duties, arise ? QUESTIONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOG?"* 21 46. Is any duty to be regarded as either positive or moral, from t/^a manner in which it is made known ? and illustrate. 47. Under what twofold consideration do positive institutions come? 48. The second deduction from the foregoing observations? 49. Show that positive institutions in general, have the nature of moral commands; and illustrate. 50. What caution should be observed in comparing positive witb moral duties ; and why ? 51. Why should we obey a moral, in preference to a positive, stand- ing precept, if we obey but one ? 2. In what case is the observance of positive institutions of nci value, at all ? 53. What may be regarded as a plain intimation of God, which should be preferred, when moral and positive laws interfere? 64. Are we often called upon to decide such a question ? 55. In what have mankind, in all ages, been prone to place their religion ? 56. How is it shown that all notions of this kind are subversive ot true religion ? 57. On what do the Scriptures lay most stress ? 68. On what occasions did our Lord intimate His preference ? 59. What is remarked of the text, " I will have mercy, and not sacrifice" ? 60. What is remarkable with regard to these words ? and why ? 61. What is mentioned as one of the peculiar weaknesses of human nature ? 62. Of what should vv3 remind ourselves ? 63. What obligA,ti.,n does the account now given of Christianity, impose on us ? 64. If, in examining revelation, we find any passages, the seeming meaning of which is contrary to natural religion, what may we conclude ? 65. But what, if such interpretation contains a doctrine, which the light of nature cannot discover ; or a precept, which the law of nature does not enjoin ? CHAPTER 11. ; OF THE SUPPOSED PRESUMPTION AGAINST A REVELATION, CONSIDERED AS MIRACULOUS. 1. What things, thus far, have been considered ? 2. The next thing in order, to be discussed ? 3. What common opinion with respect to Christianity, is here noticed! 4. Is there any presumption, from the analogy of nature, against the .CJiristian. system ? 5. If there be, from what alone, could it arise ? S2 (illESTIONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOGY. 6. Show that there is none, on account of its not being discoveiv able by reason or experience. 7. Nor, on account of the things contained in it, being unlike the known course of nature. 8. Mention several invisible miracles. 9. What is it that is here particularly observed ? 10. Why is there no presumption against miracles, at the begin- ning of the world ? 11. Show this in another way. 1^. [n another way, still. 13. What do we learn fron history and tradition respecting the ori- gin of religion ? 14. What is remarked ci this fact? 15. What objection is still urged on this point? 1(). When alone, can we raise an argument from analogy, against revelation, considered as miraculous ? 17. What would be a parallel case ? 18. Would such a case afford any proof, on the subject ? 19. Show that it would be infinitely precarious. 20. The only material question, on this point ? 21. Mention a second reason why a proof from such a case would be infinitely precarious. ;^2. What gives a real credibility to the supposition, that miraculous interpositions might be a part of the original plan of things ? 23. The last consideration, in reply to the objection that there is some peculiar presumption, from analogy, against miracles ? 24. What must be considered, before any one can determine whether there be such a presumption ? 25. The conclusion from all this ? CHAPTER 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 OB- JECTIONS. 1. Against what, have objections been alleged, besides the evi- dences of Christianity ? specify particulars. 2. What puerile objection has been urged by some ? 3. What is it the design of this chapter, to show ? 4. What would prove a supposed revelation to be false ? 6. What is remarked of objections against Christianity, as distin- guished from objections against its evidence ? %. What do we learn from Scripture respecting the government of God? QUESTIONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOGY. 29 7. What is observed of the natural and revealed dispensation of things ? 8. What does experience teach us of the course of nature ? 9. What may we infer from this respecting the revealed dispen* sation ? 10. Illustrate. 11. To what are these observations particularly applicable? 12. Show this in detail, in twelve particulars. 1 3. What may be said with respect to some of these circumstances ! 14. How would you reply to the objection ? 15. What is the only question concerning the truth of Christianity; and why is this the only one ? 16. What is the only question concerning the authority of Scrip- ture? 17. If this be so, what things, sometimes objected to the Scriptures, fail to overthrow their authority ? 18. What alone, could overturn Revelation? 19. Is the same mode of arguing applicable to the Bible, in all re- spects, as to other books ? 20. Illustrate. 21. The reason of the difference? 22. What question is asked here of internal probabilities? 23. Show that it is alleged here to no practical purpose. 24. What does the analogy of nature teach us respecting the pre- conceived expectations which men are likely to have of the Scriptures ? and why ? 25. What is remarked of the instruction which God affords to brute creatures, by instincts ; and to man, by instincts and reason ? 26. Illustrate. 27. What inference may we deduce from these things 1 28. What is remarked of objections against the Scriptures, and Christianity in general ? 29. What objection is made against the miraculous gifts of some of the early Christians ? 30. How is it answered ? 31. What sort of persons, might we have supposed, would be en- dowed with miraculous powers ? 32. How does it appear that we are not judges in what degree and manner God should interpose ? 33. Show in what other respects there is a resemblance between the light of Nature and Revelation. 34. In what way are all improvements made ? 35. Show that it is not incredible that there are many truths m the Bible, not yet understood. 36. In what respect, may it be objected, that this analogy fails ! 37. What^may be said in reply to this ? 38. What further objection is urged ? 39. How answered ? and illustrate. 40. What is the just consequence from all these things ? 41. What of revelation, comes under the cognizance cf reason t 24 QUESTIONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOGY. 42. What is meant by, reason judging of the morality of Scripttire? 43. What is said of those particiUar precepts in Scripture, given to particular persons, requiring actions, which would be im- moral and vicious, were it not for such precepts ? 44, Why is it right to take life, when commanded by God ? 45, Why has Bp. B. noticed such precepts ? 46 What question alone, respecting Christianity, needs to be dis- cussed ? 47. Why is this the only question ? 18. What presumptive proof is mentioned, of Christiarity, not pro ceeding from enthusiasm and political views ? CHAPTER IV. OP CHRISTIANITY, CONSIDERED AS A SCHEME, OR CONST^TU- 1. What has been shown in the preceding chapter? 2. On what ground may it be alleged that this is a very pairtial answer to such objections ? 3. How is it proposed to be shown that the things objected to, are wise, and just, and good ? 4. What affords a sufficient answer to objections against the vns* dom, justice, and goodness of the constitution of nature? 6. Why is this a sufficient answer ? 6. How is the moral government of God, exercised ? 7. What relation does Christianity bear to this general plan of providence ? 8. What else is said of Christianity ? 9. What are some of the parts of this economy ? 1 0. How is it known that this scheme is but imperfectly compre- hended by us ? 11. Show that our ignorance is an answer to objections against* the perfection of Christianity ? 12. What may we learn from the fact, that, in the Christian dispen- sation, as much as in the natural scheme of things, rrpana are made use of to accomplish ends ? 13. How does Bp. B. undertake to prove that the Christian dispen- sation may have been, all along, carried on by general laws, no less than the course of nature ? 14 State, at large, the reasons why we conclude that the who'^ common course of nature is carried on according to genei -J fore-ordained laws. 16. If it ia only from analogy that we conclude this, then, what els*» may analogy teach us ? 16. Specify^ in some particulars. QUESTIONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOGY. 25 17. Reply to the objection that these laws are unknown to us. 18. To what are the appearances of deficiencies and irregularities in nature, owing ? 19. The inference from this ? 20. What two classes of objections against Christianity have been answered in this, and the preceding chapter ? 21. Tlie next thing proposed to be done ? 22. What is the objection against the whole scheme of Christianity! 23. How is it answered ? 24. Do we know what are means with God, and what, ends ? 25. What do we certainly know, on this subject ? and illustrate. 26. How do God and men differ in their actions ? CHAPTER V. OF THE PARTICULAR SYSTEM OF CHRISTIANITY ; THE APPOINT- MENT OF A MEDIATOR, AND THE REDEMPTION OF THE WORLD BY HIM. 1. What has been most objected against, in Christianity ? 2. The first remark made on this point ? and illustrate. 3. In what way does God exercise His visible government over. the world ? 4. The inference from this fact ? 6. What fact must be assumed, before we can enter into a con- sideration of the revealed doctrine of redemption ? 6. What is implied in this fact ? 7. Of what things connected with this fact, are we ignorant ? ^ 8. What does analogy teach us, may be the manner in which future punishment will follow sin ? 9. What objection may some good men make to this remark? 1 0. Show that it is unfounded ? 11. Is it a matter of any moment, so far as the argument is con cerned, whether this supposition be true or not ? 12. Mention some things in the constitution of nature, or the ap- pointments of Providence, analogous to the revealed doctrine of redemption. 1 3. In what way, mere desirable than the present, are we apt tG imagine, the world might have been constituted ? 14. How has God actually constituted it ? 15. Illustrate. 16. In what other manner might the world have been constituted t and what might have been the result ? 17. Show then, wherein consists both the severity and the indul- gence, or compassion, of the present constitution of nature t 2 26 QUESTIONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOGY. 18. Whai do these things teach, respecting the revealed aoctrine of redemptioii ? 19. Why may some wonder at finding it made a question, w nether God has made provision for rescuing man from the conse- quences of his own sins ? 20. Why is it not a subject of wonder ? « 21. What evil has man done, for which he should be punish^ "> 22. What are often, the effects of vice in the present world ? 23. What may we infer from this ? 24. Is there any probability that anything we could do, would alone, and of itself, prevent the consequences of sin from being inflicted ? 25. Show that the contrary cannot be proved. 26. What does analogy teach us ? and, show how. 27. What do we learn also, from the practice of civil government, and from the general constitution of nature ? 28. What, from the prevalence of propitiatory sacrifices throughout the heathen world ? 29. The inference from these things ? 30. What then, does revelation teach us ? 31. How was the redemption of the world eflTected ? 32. What considerations show what little reason men have to ob* ject to the Scripture account of the degradation of humai» nature ? 33. The effect of the first sin of our primogenitor ? 34. How is Christ's office as Mediator, represented to us in the Scpiptures ? 35. How is He described in the Old Testament ? 36. What objection is urged against this ? 37. How is it answered ? 38. The originals of the Levitical priesthood, and of the tabernacle made by Moses ? 39. What then, is the doctrine of the Epistle to the Hebrews ? 40. What texts are quoted in proof? 41. In what other way do the inspired writers speak of the satisfac- tion of Christ ? 42. Under what three heads do divines usually treat of the office of Christ, as Mediator ? 43. What l>as He done as our Prophet ? 44. How does He act as our King ? 45. How, as our Priest ? 46. How did sacrifices originate ? 47. How did the ancients suppose pardon to be obtained by sacrifices! 48. Have the Scriptures explained this subject ? 49. State the doctrine of the Gospel on this subject ? 60. Our duty, thereupon ? 61. How does it appear that we are not judges, antecedently to revelationj whether a Mediator was neces.nary or not, to prevent future punishment, and secure to us future happi- ness ? QUESTIONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOGY. 27 62. Of what else are we, for the same reasons, not moro the judges? 63. The inference from this ? 64. In what case only, can an objection against any particular part of Christ's mediatorial office, be urged ? 55. What one is urged, that looks to be of this positive kind ? 56. Show that this objection proves too much. 67. Show that the objection is stronger, in one respect, against natural providence, than against Christianity. 68. What is implied in the world's being under the righteous gov- ernment of God ? 69. What, for aught we know, may be absolutely necessary, in or- der to the completion of this moral scheme ? 6C, Show that vicarious suffering is a providential appointment of every day's experience. 61. To what only, then, can be attributed the objection to the sat- isfaction of Christ ? 62. Why do any conclude that the sufferings of Christ could not contribute to the redemption of the world, unless by arbitrary and tyrannical will ? 63. Admitting, for argument's sake, that this is an objectloi; against Christianity, what does it amount to ? 64. What is said of arguments against particular dispensations of God, when the reasons of these dispensations, are unknown? 65. What makes the folly of them still greater ? 66. What do both reason and analogy teach us, on this subject ? 67. How are we taught how to behave ourselves ; by reason, or by experience '? 68. The extent of our knowledge of God's providence ? 69. How does this compare with our. knowledge of revelatiDn? 70. Do we know the reasons of all the Christian precepts? 71. The design of positive institutions ? 72. Whence arises our duty to Christ ? CHAPTER YI. F THE WANT OF UNIVERSALITY IN REVELATION ] AND OF TIIE SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN THE PROOF OF IT. 1 What objection is sometimes urged against revelation ? 2 How may the weakness of these opinions be shown ? 3. Mention the suppositions on which they are founded ? 4. By what are they contradicted ? 5. Mention several instances in the natural government of GoiJ^ in which men act on uncertain evidence. 6. Do not men often engage in pursuits, in which the probabilities of success are greatly against them ? 7 Are the blessings of life bestowed equally upon all ? 28 QUESTIONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOGY. 8 Do these things prove that God is not the governor of the world ? 9. Has tlie evidence for the Jewish, or for the Christian religion, been always the same ? 10. During what period was the evidence for the Jewish religion strongest ? 11. In what respect has the evidence for Christianity been stronger than it is now ? 12. In what respect is it stronger now, than it ever was ? 13. In what respect has the evidence for Christianity been perfectly uniform, and of a piece with the conduct of Providence, in the distribution of other blessings ? 4. Illustrate. 15. What consideration is sufficient to show that there is nothing shocking in all this ? 16. Is as much expected by God from those in heathen lands, as from Christians ? 17. The law of Scripture, on this subject ? 18. Is tlie condition of all persons here, with respect to futurity, equally advantageous ? 19. In what other respects is there a difference among God's crea- tures on earth? 20. Can we account for this difference ? 21. Of what may our present state, possibly, be the consequence ? 22. Were revelation universal, would this make the religious situ- ations of all persons, in all respects, equal ? 23. What would cause the difference ? 24. Mention one possible benefit of the evidences of religion not appearing obvious. 25. Why may we not be in a state of probation, with regard to the exercise of our understanding on the subject of religion, as well as, with regard to our behavior in common affairs ? 26. Mention some reasons that go to prove that we are. 27. What is said of inattention, negligence, and want of serious concern, on the subject of religion ? 28. What, of active solicitude about it ? 29. What then, constitutes religious probation ? 30. Show that the evidence of religion, though in the highest degree, doubtful, will put men into a general state of probation, in the moral and religious sense. 31. What is said of the apprehension that religion may be true? 32. What effect should it have on us ? 33. What would be the tendency of such behavior ? 3 4. What is said of the responsibility of men of great influence, or strong intellect ? B5. What does doubting, necessarily imply ? 36. Show that this is so. .17. How many intermediate degrees are there between no evidence at all, and that degree of it which affords ground of doubt ? 38. What is said of one who is uninfluenced by a lower degree of evidence, when discerned ? QUESTIONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOGY. £9 39. What is remarked of the difficulties on which the evidence of religion is involved '? 40. The benefit of temptations ? 41. Show how speculative difficulties are like them. 42. What effect should supposed doubtfulness in the evidence of religion, have on us ? 43. What mS.y be regarded as an additional discipline and improve- ment of virtue ? 44. Of what kind of persons may the speculative difficulties in v,'hich the evidence of religion is involved, be the principal part of their trial ? 45. What is the chief difficulty, with some persons, in regard to conduct ? 46. The true cause of men's dissatisfaction with the evidence of religion? 47. What persons are most likely to overlook the evidences of re- ligion ? 48. What may hinder one from seeing these evidences ? 49. The general effect of levity, carelessness, passion, prejudice- &LC. on the mind, in the investigation of truth ? 60. What is said of the general proof of natural religion and of Christianity ? 61. Of what are common men, capable ? 62. Of what is no one capable ? 63. In what way do men often become infidels ? 64. What objection may still be urged ? 65. How may it be answered ? 66. Give a full answer from the nature of religion. 67. What is implied in our being in a state of religion ? 68. What follows from this ? 69. In what does our probation consist ? 60. What does experience teach us on this subject ? arid illustrate. 61. What results from the constitution and course of the work being such as it is? 62. If the observations in this chapter are unintelligible to any, tc what may their lack of understanding be owing? 63. What facts should be forced upon the refiection of such persona . CHAPTER VII. OF THE PARTICULAR EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANIT7. 1. What are the direct and fundamental proofs of Christianity ? tJ. To what is the conviction, arising from the direct and coiiatenu proofs of Christianity, compared ? 3. How does Bp. Bk'1 3r propose to treat this subject ? 30 QUESTIONS ON BrXLEU'S ANALOw , 4. The first observation, relative to the historical evidence of the miracles of Christianity ? 6. In what case would this not have been affirmed ? 6. How are these miraculous facts related ? 7. What other evidence have we, of the truth of these miracles ? 8. What is the most satisfactory account of the establishment of the Jewish and Christian religions ? 9. The just consequence from all this ? 10. What observation is made respecting the Epistles of St. Paul ? 11. What proof of the truth of Christianity, of a nature and kind peculiar to itself, is furnished by these Epistles ? 12. What further observations are made on this topic ? 13. What claim did Christianity put forth, to be believed by all men ? 14. What distinguishes it from all other religions? 15. How was Mohammedanism propagated ? 16. What is there peculiar in the propagation of Christianity ? 17. What facts prove that the primitive Christians were really con- vinced of the truth of the miracles, which led them to re- nounce their own religion ? 18. What is said of their belief? 19. Why is it real evidence ? 20. Show that it is yet, distinct from historical evidence. 21. With what did Christianity have to contend, in the outset? 22. If the evidence of Christianity is so strong, on whom does it rest to show that it is not to be credited ? 23. Yet, what is the proper question, in a matter of so much im • portance ? 24. What reason do unbelievers allege against this evidence, which, in their opinion, is sufficient to destroy it ? 25. How is it answered ? 26. What is said of enthusiasm ? 27. How is this answered ? 28. What alone, could overcome such testimony? 29. Is there any such incredibility in revelation ? 30. What other things are mentioned as influencing men in com- mon matters ? 31. Do these things cause us to doubt common testimony ? 32. What other reason is assigned why the apostles should not be believed ? 33. How is this replied to ? 34. What further objc-ction is made ? 35. How is it answered ? 36. What is said of fabulous miracles ? 37. Show that this does not tend to bring discredit on the Christian miracles. 38. What is the eifect of our being so liable to be deceived from enthusiasm in religion, etc., etc. ? 3y. Do these things destroy the evidence from testimony which WB have, of the truth of Christianity ? QUiiSTIONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOOr. 31 40. What alone can destroy the evidence of testimoiiy in any easel 41. What rendered the early converts less liable to be deceived in regard to the facts of Christianity, than they would have been in common matters ? 42. What is said of assertions in arguments ? 43. The conclusion from the foregoing observations ? 44. How is this remark illustrated ? 45. How does Bp. Butler propose to treat the evidence frois. prophecy ? 46. The first observation on this subject ? 47. Why is this so ? 48. How is this illustrated ? 49. What further observations are made under this head ? 60. The socond remark on this subject ? 61. In answer to what common objection is this remark made ? 62. What two kinds of writing resemble prophecy, with respect to this matter ? 63. How might a man be assured that he understood such writings ? 64. Apply these remarks to prophecy. 56. How did the early Jews and Christians understand these proph- ecies ? 66. The third remark on this subject ? 67. How is this remark illustrated ? 68. Apply it to the Scripture prophecies. 69. -What is the real question to be decided in regard to prophecy? 60. Did the prophets understand, or think they understood, the full meaning of their predictions ? 61. How have some persons, to no purpose, endeavored to weaken the force of prophecy ? 62. What might have answered some purpose ? and illustrate. 63. What then, upon the whole, is the matter of inquiry, in relation to the prophecies ? 64. In what respect, does Bp. B. say, some persons are deficient in integrity ? 65. And what requires more modesty and fairness than many pos- sess ? 66. What conduct is evidence of great weakness of understanding * 67. What argument for Christianity does Bp. B. now propose to enter upon 1 68. Why does he take up this argument ? 69. What two other reasons does he assign for this ? 70. The thing asserted here, which it proposed to prove ? 71. Show that this revelation may be considered wholly histoiical, 72. The general design of Scripture, which contains in it thij rev- elation, thus considered as historical ? 73. Why does it begin with an account of God's creatioii g: the . world? 74 How does revelation regard the common affairs of this w orld ? 76 To what extent does it contain some very genera' *'A>:"-.iit dt' the chief governments of the woria ' 9Z QUESTIONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOGY. 76. Show that the supposed doubtfulness of the evidence for reve- lation, implies a positive argument of its truth ? •77. What does the Old Testament contain, besides an account of the moral system of the world ? 73. How does it speak of the coming of the Messiah ? 79. What supposition is made, for the purpose of illustrating the argument drawn from these statements of the Scriptures ? 80. To what conclusion would such a person come ? 81. How is this illustration carried on? 82. What is a remarkable circumstance in favor of the Scripture history ? 83. How is the truth of the New Testament history still further confirmed ? 84. Carry on the illustration still further. 85. What alone, kept the Jews a distinct people ? 86. How does the establishment and preservation of natural religion among the Jews, confirm the miracles of Moses ? 87. Carry on the illustration still further. 88. How is it pretended to account for the Jews' remaining a dis- tinct people ? 89. Is the fact alone, of their remaining a distinct people, a miracu- lous one ? 90. In what then, does the miracle consist? 91. Wherein consists the miracle in our Saviour's being born ir. Bethlehem ? 92. In what other aspect may these events be viewed ? 93. Illustrate this remark. 94. What is said of the evidence for Christianity, founded on that part of the prophetic history which relates to the situation of the kingdoms of the world, &c., from the establishment of Christianity to the present time ? 95. What supposition is here made, for illustration's sake ? 96. How much has Bp. B. endeavored to show, respecting these things ? £7. What may unbelievers say with respect to these things, and how may they be answered ? 9^^ What course is recommended to serious persons by this gen- eral view of the evidence for Christianity ? 99. The advantage of such a course ? 100. Wnat is remarked of putting down what might be thought to make for the contrary side ? ? ?L In deliberations concerning our conduct, what is very impor- tant to be considered ? and illustrate. 102. By what is the truth of religion to be judged of? 1-"S. By what is it proved ? and illustrate. i04 How is advantage given, by the nature of this evidence, no those persons who attack Christianity, in conversation? I© 5. lU It Dossible to destroy this evidence ? QUESTIONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOGY. 88 CHAPTER VIII. OF THE OBJECTIONS WHICH MAY BE MADE AGAINST ARGUING FROM THE ANALOGY OF NATURE TO RELIGION. 1. Why does Bp. B. suggest and answer these objections ? 2. The first objection ? 3. To what is the plausibility of it owing ? 4. In reply to this objection, what is the first thing to be ran arked ? 5. How have men always been allowed to argue ? 6. What is remarked of the epithet '• poor," in this connection? 7. Why is it a thing of consequence to show that such objections are as much levelled against natural religion, as against revelation ? 8. How are such objections answered ? 9. What is it plainly, very material, to observe here ? 10. How has Christianity been chiefly indicated in this work? 11. The second remark, in reply to the objection ? 12. State in full, the argument for the practice of religion. 13. In what does the chief and proper force of the argument, re ferred to in the objection, lie ? 14. State the argument. 1 5. What observation is an answer to this argument ? 16. Why is it so ? 17. In what does the force of this answer lie? 18. The third general remark, in reply to the objection ? 19. How far only, is it necessary that we should justify the dispen- sations of Providence against objections ? 20. How is this remark illustrated ? 21. Has the author endeavored to remove objections against the divine justice and goodness by arguing from the analogy ot nature ? 22. What then, has he endeavored to do ? and illustrate. 23. Show that it is of weight, to prove the credibility of the things objected against, whether the objections themselves be an swered, or not. 24. Show that objections against the credibility or truth of the sys- tem of religion, may be answered, without entering into a consideration of its reasonableness, 25. Is it necessary to show the reasonableness of every precept ? 26. What is all that is necessary, in order to show the general ob- ligations of religion ? 27. And what, in order to show, the reasonableness of its practice? 28. To what is the analogy of nature an immediate anc direct answer ? 29. The fourth general remark in reply to the objection ? 30 What other things are equallv uncertain ? 2* 34 QUESTIONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOGY. 31. What is said of those who object to the evidences of religion as unsatisfactory ? 32. Show that they forget the very nature of religion. 33. What ought lo be the real question respecting the evidences of religion ? 34. What never is the practical question in common matters ? 35. What, in all cases, is the practical question? 36. The 7(///i general remark? 37. The object of the foregoing Treatise ? 38. By what means are men put in a state of probation ? "id. What do both revelation and reason teach us ? to. The sixth and last general remark, &c. ? tl. How has Bp. B. argued in this Treatise ? VJ. What does he mean by arguing on the principles of others t See note. 43. What principles force themselves upon the minds of all per- sons? 44. Omitting these principles, m what view alone can we consider religion ? 45. How has it been treated in this Treatise ? and illustrate. 46. What assertion is stated here, which contains both an abstract truth and a matter of fact ? 47. What supposition is made, which would be a statement of a mere fact ? 48. If tins fact were acknowledged, what difficulties might still be raised ? 49. What then, might be said ? 50. Apply this, to the subject in hand ? 61. What will believers in Christianity find in this book? 52. What, unbelievers ? CONCLUSION. 1 Why is infidelity in man, so surprising? 2. What is said of inattention to revealed religion ? 3. Why does it demand to have its claims examined ? 4. How much further do many go, than merely to reject Chris- tianity ? fi. What do such as reject Christianity, seem to take for granted ? e. To what class of persons is this Treatise adapted ? 7. What has been shown in it? 8. How have objections against the wisdom, justice, and goodness of the Christian dispensation been answered ? U. Mention one objection to the Christian dispensation ? 10. How has it been answered? 11. How has the objection to the particular method of our redemp- tion, been answered '^ QUESITONS ON BUTLER'S ANALOGY. 36 12. Has it ever Seen the opinion of any nation, that repentance aid reformation were sufficient to procure the remission of sins . 13. What grounds^' have we for thinking that the punishments which are annexed to vice, may be prevented ? ^ 14. How would you answer the objection that, neither reason nor analogy would lead us to think, in particular, that the inter- position of Christ, in the manner in which He did interpose, would be efficacious for the salvation of man ? 15. How have the objections against Christianity, from its light not being universal, been answered ? 16. How, from the evidence of it not being overwhelming? 17. To what may this alleged doubtfulness be owing? 18. What does doubting imply ? 19. The conclusion from all this ? 20. Why is immorality aggravated in persons who have been made acquainted with Christianity ? 21. In what consists the middle state of mind, between a ful* satis- faction of the truth of Christianity, and a satisfo«ttion of tha contrary ? 22. The duty of such persons ? 23. Why are blaaphemy and profaneness inexcusai^e? 24. What is remaiked of the profane 7 FOURTEEN DAY USE = RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED LOAN DEPT This book is due on the last date stamped below, or g p J on the date to which renewed. i Renewed books are subject to immedia te recall. I COMNIC- 23Jun'5^G3 sn TtTL 91955Lii SPE SP c Fourte_ Style of V Their For sal upon rece Analysis I theO use in" tic as ( The Anal, an i?n_ A new Series of J LITE- A new comprises' poraneouj aSluTOBlT IN STACKS BRU JUL This c '-'v- similar W( , CO 91956 REC'D LD AUG 2 9 1956 LD 21-100m-2,'55 (B139s22)476 Genera' University Bei. my n. It Intern- YB 23224 Ivison, BlakemaUy Taylor & Co.'s Publications. WOODBURY'S GERMAN COURSE. 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