UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 BERKELEY 
 
 THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 STAMPED BELOW 
 
 
 DEC IB !92* 
 
jutfttfjk 
 
 %&. 
 
 y / / 
 
 4^K 
 
 fr'atAoTfv &<* 
 
SERMONS: 
 
 K 
 
 CHIEFLY PRACTICAL 
 
 BT 
 
 THE SENIOR MINISTER 
 
 OF TUB WB3T CHURCH IX BOSTON. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 TICK&OR AND FIELDS. 
 
 M DCCC LV. 
 
2, 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by 
 
 TICKNOK AND FIELDS, 
 In the Clerk's Oifice of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 THCU3TOX AND TORIIY, PRINTERS. 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 TO MY CHILDREN, 
 
 Whose love and devotedness have been a source of hap- 
 piness and joy to me in my days of health and activity, 
 and of solace and comfort in seasons of infirmity, and in 
 
 old uge : 
 
 AHD 
 
 TO THE PRECIOUS MEMORY OF THEIR SAINTED MOTHER, 
 
 CJ)fs Volume Is JDeUicatrt 
 
 TO ELIZABETH CUTTS BUTTON. 
 
 I dedicate this volume also to you. We are the chil- 
 dren of the same parents ; grew up from infancy together ; 
 have been, through life, except only for a brief period, 
 side by side ; without the recollection of one unkind action, 
 or word, or thought, towards each other ; and are the last 
 survivors of our father's household. 
 
 Nor is this all. You will find in this volume a sermon 
 containing the portraiture of a good mother, and will not 
 fail to trace in it, though she was not the prototype, 
 the lineaments of the character of that sainted being, 
 
JV DEDICATION. 
 
 now a ministering angel to us, from whom we both 
 received our first lessons of piety ; lessons which she 
 so fully and beautifully embodied in her own life and 
 example. 
 
 May we be enabled to follow her on the upward path 
 which she so faithfully and lovingly traced out for us ; 
 and when called to follow the beloved departed, whose 
 hallowed memory we fondly cherish, may we be united 
 with them in our FATHER'S house above ! 
 
 Your loving and only brother. 
 
 Elmwood, December, 1854. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 THIS volume lias its origin in a request repeatedly made 
 to the author that he would republish the sermons he had 
 already published, with a selection fyom his manuscript 
 sermons. In order to comply with this request, it was 
 determined, Providence permitting, to publish two vol- 
 umes, simultaneously, the first volume to contain such of 
 the sermons as it was thought best to republish, and the 
 second, the sermons which should be selected from manu- 
 scripts. 
 
 Circumstances have led to an alteration of this plan. 
 The volumes will be published separately, and in a differ- 
 ent order from that originally contemplated. 
 
 The state of the author's health has occasioned a delay 
 in the publication, and interfered not a little with the pre- 
 paratory steps to it. 
 
 The author is compelled to add, with anguish which can 
 be understood only by those who knew the object of it, 
 that, after the intended publication was announced, a do- 
 mestic calamity occurred, the rupture of a parental and 
 filial tie, inexpressibly dear and delightful; which ren- 
 dered the labor of revision for the press almost impossible, 
 though it excited a still stronger sense of responsibility, 
 and more fervent desire that the labor might not be in vain. 
 
 The sermons in this volume, with the exception of a 
 few of a practical character, which had before been pub- 
 lished, are selected from the author's manuscripts. 
 
 They are printed almost literally as they were delivered, 
 
VI ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 except that, in the delivery, the speaker did not always 
 feel obliged to confine himself strictly to the notes before 
 him. 
 
 They were originally addressed to a people with whom 
 the author has been connected as a minister, with uninter- 
 rupted confidence and affection, for nearly half a century. 
 To them they are now especially sent forth from the 
 chamber to which, in the providence of GOD, always 
 wise and good, he has been, in a great measure, con- 
 fined by illness, for more than three years. This circum- 
 stance of their more especial destination, will account for 
 the introduction of sermons containing delineations of 
 private character and allusions to domestic griefs, as well 
 as of others plain, direct, and unelaborated. 
 
 Of their kind reception of them to whom they were 
 preached, and to whom they are now especially sent, the 
 author is well assured. They will read them, as they 
 heard them, with affectionate interest. 
 
 That the reading may be blessed to their benefit, and 
 that a blessing which the world cannot give nor take away, 
 may be ever with them, is the fervent wish and prayer of 
 their most affectionate friend and pastor, 
 
 CHARLES LOWELL. 
 
 West Church, Boston, December, 1854. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 I. THE GOOD MOTHER ... 1 
 
 II. PARENTAL AND FILIAL DUTY .... 8 
 
 III. PARENTAL HOPES 16 
 
 IV. DUTY TO AGED PARENTS ... 21 
 V. CHEERFULNESS IN YOUTH SANCTIONED BY RE- 
 LIGION, AND SHOULD BE HALLOWED BY IT . 31 
 
 VI. EVERY SEASON OF LIFE TO BE GIVEN TO GOD . 37 
 
 VII. THE GOODNESS OF GOD IN THE DEATH OF 
 
 LITTLE CHILDREN 42 
 
 VIII. THE DIGNITY OF HUMAN NATURE ... 50 
 
 IX. CONSCIENCE 6d 
 
 X. THE UPRIGHT MAN ; a Character ... 64 
 
 XI. THE FAITHFUL YOUNG MAN j a Character . 69 
 
 XII. CHRISTIAN HEROISM 74 
 
 XIII. PRAYER 82 
 
 XIV. IDOLATRY AMONG CHRISTIANS .... 92 
 XV. RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION .... 98 
 
 XVI. GOD ALL-SUFFICIENT . 106 
 
Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 SERMON. PAGE. 
 
 XVII. THE EYE OF GOD ALWAYS UPON us . . Ill 
 
 XVIII. THE DEVOUT SPIRIT ALWAYS WITH GOD . 115 
 
 XIX. DAVID THE KING AND PSALMIST OF ISRAEL . 122 
 
 XX. THE HIDDEN LIFE OF A CHRISTIAN . . 128 
 
 XXL A GOOD MAN ; a Character ... 133 
 XXII. THE BENEDICTION OF THE SAVIOUR ON A WO- 
 MAN OF JUDEA, AND A TRIBUTE TO WOMAN'S 
 
 WORTHINESS 138 
 
 XXIII. SUBMISSION 146 
 
 XXIV. THE DIVINE DISPENSATIONS NOT TO BE QUES- 
 
 TIONED, BUT TO BE SUBMITTED TO, AND 
 
 IMPROVED 151 
 
 XXV. LESSONS TO BE LEARNED IN THE HOUSE OF 
 
 MOURNING 164 
 
 XXVI. A SENSE OF THE PRESENCE AND BLESSING OF 
 
 GOD INCONSISTENT WITH FEAR . . . 172 
 XXVII TH Y ARE NOT ALONE WHO FEEL ASSURED THAT 
 
 THE FATHER is WITH THEM . . . 178 
 
 XXVIII. THE FEAR OF DEATH ..... 184 
 XXIX. THERE is NO DEATH, NOR SORROW, NOR PAIN 
 
 IN HEAVEN 192 
 
 XXX. THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST . . . 197 
 
 XXXI. REGENERATION 204 
 
 XXXII. PHILIP THE EVANGELIST AND THE ETHIOPIAN 211 
 
 XXXIII. CHARGE 219 
 
 XXXIV. THE LORD'S SUPPER 225 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 XXXV. THE FOUNDATION OF EVERY ACCEPTABLE RELI- 
 
 GIOUS SERVICE ...... 236 
 
 XXXVI. THANKSGIVING ...... 242 
 
 XXXVII. ON TAKING THOUGHT FOR TIIE MORROW . 253 
 
 XXXVIII. TEMPERANCE ....... 261 
 
 XXXIX. MAKING HASTE TO BE RICH .... 269 
 
 XL. CHRISTIAN RESPONSIBILITY .... 277 
 
 XLI. THE CHRISTIAN SPIRIT ..... 287 
 
 XLII. EXTRACT FROM A SERMON .... 299 
 
 XLIII. WHAT is NEEDFUL FOR THE HOUSE OF GOD . 302 
 
 XLIV. THE WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF GOD, Ace. . 319 
 
 XLV. WELCOME TO A NATION'S BENEFACTOR . . 331 
 XLVI. HOSPITALITY AND COMPASSION TO EMIGRANT 
 
 FUGITIVES ....... 336 
 
 XLVII. JERUSALEM ....... 341 
 
 NOTES TO THK SERMON ON JERUSALEM . 353 
 
SERMON I. 
 
 THE GOOD MOTHER. 
 Proverbs xxxi. 28. HER CHILDREN ARISE UP, AND CALL HER BLESSED. 
 
 THE text needs no explanation. It must present 
 to every mind the portraiture of a good mother. It 
 is only such a mother who would be thus honored 
 by her children. It is only such a mother who, in 
 life, would receive their grateful homage, and whose 
 memorial would be cherished by them among the 
 dearest objects of their remembrance. 
 
 There is something, indeed, in the very name of 
 mother, which awakens the tenderest associations, 
 and must excite in every breast, not corrupted and 
 hardened by vice, the liveliest emotions of affection 
 and gratitude. It implies, in those who bear it, the 
 most exuberant kindness toward those to whom it 
 relates; and is even used in Scripture to present to 
 us the highest example our weakness can compre- 
 hend, of the Divine compassion. Can a mother 
 forget her child ? The Lord will not forget thee. 
 
 It is the name of one to whom we owe our 
 being; on whom devolves the care of our earliest 
 years; who sustains us in the most helpless period 
 
 VOL. II. 1 
 
4, THE GOOD MOTHER. 
 
 of life ; who, with unceasing and untiring assiduity, 
 watches and labors for our preservation and com- 
 fort; to whom no self-denial is irksome, and no 
 exertion toilsome, that can promote our benefit; 
 who, in our advancing years, regards us with an 
 anxiety and solicitude which has no other name 
 than maternal by which it can be expressed; 
 whose faithful bosom is the depositary of our early 
 joys and sorrows; who in sickness is found at 
 our pillow, wakeful without effort; performing 
 such offices of kindness as a mother only could per- 
 form ; and in whom, if survived, the love for her 
 children is the last earthly passion that warms the 
 heart. 
 
 All this is included in the name of mother: 
 affection intense; affection undying ; strong in 
 life, and strong in death ; labor untiring ; care 
 unremitted; anxiety unceasing. All this is asso- 
 ciated with that dear and sacred name ; all this 
 comes in to swell the tide of affection in the heart 
 of a dutiful child whilst it is enjoying the bless- 
 ing of maternal love and care. All this comes in to 
 swell the tide of its grief when, on earth, that love 
 can be felt, and that care can be exercised no 
 longer. 
 
 But this is not all. There may be much more 
 than this, to enshrine this name in our hearts, and 
 to cause them to thrill with the tenderest emotions 
 when it is called up to remembrance. It is the 
 name of one to whom, if she is faithful, we owe 
 our first impressions of GOD and duty; who first 
 
THE GOOD MOTHER. ti 
 
 teaches our heart to feel its obligations, and our 
 tongue to utter them; who watches the opening 
 mind, and, as its powers unfold, instils instruction . 
 in wisdom and virtue, and lays the foundation of 
 the future character; who, as we grow in years, 
 is still our faithful monitor, judicious counsellor, 
 and confidential friend, restraining and guiding us 
 by the persuasive energy of her precepts, and the 
 silent, but not less impressive eloquence of her life; 
 furnishing, while in the mercy of GOD she is per- 
 mitted to remain with us, a beautiful illustration of 
 the efficacy of the principles she inculcates, and the 
 hopes she would inspire, and leaving behind her a 
 bright and luminous track, which still marks out for 
 us the path by which she ascended to heaven. 
 
 It is to such a mother that children look up with 
 a veneration and love which may be feU, but can- 
 not be described. It is the memory of such a 
 mother which is embalmed in the hearts of children, 
 not to decay till those hearts are mouldering in the 
 dust. I should rather say, never to die, but to live 
 with the immortal mind which has received the 
 impress of her virtues. 
 
 How dear, how precious, is such a mother to her 
 children who are worthy of her! How doubly pre- 
 cious when the parent, who had shared with her in 
 their veneration and affection, is gone from them ; 
 when she unites in herself all. in this world, that is 
 comprehended in the parental relation, and alone 
 can receive the offerings of filial piety. How anx- 
 ious are they to give her every demonstration of 
 
4 THE GOOD MOTHER. 
 
 their sense of her value to them, and of the obliga- 
 tion they owe her ! How watchful their solicitude 
 to promote her happiness ; to anticipate her wishes ; 
 to help her infirmities ; to render cheerful and 
 pleasant the evening of her life ! How tenacious are 
 they of every look of tenderness, as of beams that 
 are soon to be withdrawn. How carefully do they 
 gather up her words as treasures that will not long 
 be supplied ; watching, as her day declines, to catch 
 the last rays of her setting sun. How faithful are 
 they to the calls of duty, in the closing scene ; min- 
 istering to her weakness, as she has ministered to 
 theirs. And when the scene is over, when the 
 bitterness of death is past, how are they cheered in 
 the * solitude of their souls,' by the sounds of pious 
 resignation, and humble confidence, and holy joy, 
 which seep yet to vibrate on the ear, and will 
 never, never cease to vibrate in the heart! 
 
 Blessed is such a mother ! Blessed in life ; bless- 
 ed in death ; blessed, forever blessed, in the world 
 beyond the grave. Her children arise up^ and call 
 her blessed. They bless her while she lives to bless. 
 They bless her as they receive the last breathings 
 of her spirit, which is on the wing for heaven. 
 They bless her memory, which is left as a rich in- 
 heritance to her children's children. Long after she 
 is gone, they look back upon her solicitude and 
 fidelity with an interest which the lapse of time has 
 not destroyed, perhaps has not impaired. 
 
 My hearers ! When one so honored, deservedly 
 honored by her children, is taken away from among 
 
TIIK GOOD MOTHER. 5 
 
 n>, 1 would gladly delineate the features of her 
 character, and thus indulge my own feelings, whilst 
 I paid a just tribute to the memory of departed 
 worth. 1 would describe, on such an occasion, the 
 qualities which rendered her an object of deep re- 
 spect and warm affection, not only to her children, 
 but to all who enjoyed her friendship. I would 
 describe the mind refined and cultivated ; the coun- 
 tenance beaming with sweetness and intelligence; 
 the manners dignified, yet winning ; the conversa- 
 tion, interesting to the wise from its wisdom, yet 
 most attractive to the young and gay from its viva- 
 city and playfulness ; the whole deportment inspir- 
 ing happiness in all around her. I would dwell on 
 her compassion, and tell of the ignorant whom her 
 bounty had contributed to enlighten; the poor, 
 whose wants it had supplied ; the widows, whose 
 hearts it had caused to sing for joy. I would in- 
 troduce you to her domestic circle, and speak of her 
 order, and economy, and industry. I would carry 
 you to the bed of sickness and death, and repeat 
 the words- of consolation which she addressed to 
 her children; and the words of humble, yet firm 
 and steady confidence which she addressed to her 
 GOD. I would describe her composure nay, her 
 joy and rapture, in the prospect of being with that 
 GOD in heaven. All this, and more than ihi.-. 1 
 would minutely detail, were I to follow the prompt- 
 ing of my own heart ; but to this, on former occa- 
 sions, I could only allude; and to this, now that it 
 may be told with so much truth, I must only allude. 
 1* 
 
D THE GOOD MOTHER. 
 
 There are hearts which can fill up the sketch, and I 
 could not do justice, by any description of mine, to 
 the character which is imaged there. 
 
 If the fervent wishes and prayers of children, 
 friends, could have availed aught to stay the stroke, 
 our friend ' had not died.' To us, indeed, she died. 
 But, 
 
 The dread path once trod, 
 Heaven lifts its everlasting portals high, 
 And bids the pure in heart behold their God.' 
 
 We mourn, that in the retirement of domestic 
 life, in the scenes of her labors of benevolence, in 
 this place, to which she loved to resort ; we mourn, 
 that where we have been accustomed to meet her, 
 we shall meet her no more. 
 
 But, as we loved her, we rejoice that she has 
 gone to her FATHER ; to the associates and friends 
 of her early life whom it was her lot to survive ; to 
 all who have gone before her to heaven. We re- 
 joice that she has gone from a world in which there 
 is so much pain and sorrow, to a world where ' there 
 is no more pain ; and sorrow and sighing flee away.' 
 
 They have been highly favored to whom it was 
 permitted to enjoy, in the parental relation, so much 
 that was worthy of their reverence and love, and to 
 enjoy it so long. They are favored if they have 
 known its value, and endeavored to improve it. 
 May they still feel its energy exerting a powerful 
 influence on their conduct! When the image of 
 one so venerated and loved comes up to the mind, 
 in health or sickness, in joy or sorrow, in seasons of 
 
THE GOOD MOTHER. 7 
 
 retirement, or in seasons of business or pleasure, 
 may it chasten, purify, elevate, every thought and 
 feeling and purpose and desire. 
 
 If, as I have more than once suggested, and de- 
 light to repeat, they who are glorified make a part 
 of that ' cloud of witnesses ' by which we are com- 
 passed about ; if they are permitted to revisit the 
 scenes of their former interest and attachments ; if 
 they are employed on errands of love and mercy to 
 those who were the objects of their solicitude on 
 earth: if they still hover around us, witnessing 
 what is good in us, and instruments in the hands 
 of Him who worketh by the instrumentality of 
 second causes in cherishing every holy purpose, 
 how should we live ! 
 
 My hearers! we are always in the presence of 
 ( ion, and the Spirit of GOD is always striving with 
 us. May we live as in this presence, and by the 
 mice of this Spirit, follow on in the footsteps 
 of the pious dead, animated by the consciousness 
 that we are acting worthy of their memory, and 
 that every step brings us nearer to their renewed 
 intercourse, and their eternal reward. 
 
SERMON II. 
 
 PARENTAL AND FILIAL DUTY. 
 
 II. Tim. i., part of verse 5. i CALL TO REMEMBRANCE THE UN- 
 FEIGNED FAITH THAT IS IN THEE J WHICH DWELT FIRST IN THY 
 GRANDMOTHER AND THY MOTHER, AND I AM PERSUADED IN THEE 
 ALSO. 
 
 THE disciple to whom Paul addresses these words 
 was eminent for his piety. He is frequently men- 
 tioned by the apostle in terms of commendation, 
 and two epistles are directed to him full of counsel 
 and affectionate encouragement. ' From a child he 
 had learned the Scriptures,' and was thus the better 
 prepared to receive the truths of Christianity. He 
 was converted by the instructions of Paul, and was 
 his frequent companion in travel and in suffering. 
 
 It was the privilege of this young convert to have 
 a pious mother and grandmother. From that source 
 he, doubtless, received his early impressions of piety. 
 The unfeigned faith that was in him had dwelt 
 first in his parents ; and, through the influence of ma- 
 ternal counsel and example, had descended to him. 
 
 We are led, then, to reflect, in the first place, on 
 the advantage of having pious parents, especially a 
 pious mother ; in the second place, on the responsi- 
 
PARENTAL AND FILIAL DUTY. 
 
 bility which rests on children, who are thus favored; 
 in the third place, on the obligation which rests on 
 parents, especially mothers, to confer this benefit on 
 their children. 
 
 1. It is a privilege to have pious parents, espe- 
 cially a pious mother. This position will not be 
 denied or doubted in this assembly. It is not 
 because it is either new or questionable, that I ad- 
 vance it ; but to remind you of it, and enforce it, 
 tind derive instruction from it. 
 
 The relation in which parents stand to then- chil- 
 dren. Lfives them an influence which no other relation 
 confers. The characters of the children partake more 
 or less of the qualities which belong to the characters 
 of the parents. The instruction, good or bad, which 
 is directly or indirectly conveyed ; the example, bene- 
 ficial or injurious, which is exhibited; never reaches, 
 without ellect, the eye or the ear of the child. In 
 many comparatively trilling particulars, parents con- 
 template in their children, in very early life, a por- 
 traiture of themselves. They become conscious of 
 ha hits of which they were not before gfcvare, by 
 beholding the miniature transcript in these faithful 
 copyists. It is so in higher matters ; in the intel- 
 lectual and moral habits. Hence the importance 
 and value of good instructions, and a good example. 
 In both parents it is of vast moment; for, as the 
 united effort to give a proper direction must be 
 doubly efficacious, so the failure, on either part, will 
 tend to counteract the fidelity of the other part. 
 But especially is piety important in that parent 
 
10 PARENTAL AND FILIAL DUTY. 
 
 from whom the child receives its first impressions ; 
 who traces the first characters on its ductile mind, 
 and gives the first impulse to its onward course. 
 Early impressions are proverbially deep. Good 
 precepts and good principles, inculcated and in- 
 stilled as the mind is first developing its powers, 
 are perhaps never wholly lost. They are so many 
 lights set up in the mind to direct the conduct 
 through the maze of life, and they are seldom, if 
 ever, extinguished. The giddiness of youth, the 
 blind impulse of unruly passions, may dim their 
 lustre, and cause them to burn with a faint and 
 flickering flame ; but still the light remains, though 
 nearly gone, and something may rekindle it, and 
 restore all its purity and lustre. When the tumult 
 and infatuation are over, the mind may be calmed 
 by the dictates of reason, and they who have wan- 
 dered far * from the way in which they should go,' 
 may return to it, and not depart from it again. 
 How many can trace to the faithful, assiduous at- 
 tention of a mother, in their early instruction, their 
 having been preserved, by the blessing of GOD, from 
 becoming a prey to the temptations which have 
 assailed them in the world ! How many their 
 having been led to pursue the path of religious 
 wisdom, in which they have found their highest 
 happiness ! How many their return to GOD and 
 duty, when they had gone astray ! I might say? 
 how many have looked back on the early neglect 
 of their parents ; or on the bad influence they had 
 early exerted, with deep and bitter anguish; if 
 
PARENTAL AND FILIAL DUTY. 11 
 
 not . But I forbear. They to whom GOD, in 
 
 lii< merciful providence, has given good parents; 
 who have been blessed with the early counsels and 
 prayers of a pious mother, cannot feel, with too 
 much gratitude, their obligations. And on them I 
 remark, in the second place, a great responsibility 
 rests. 
 
 .'. You who now enjoy the blessing! Children! 
 whose parents are diligent in forming you to piety 
 and virtue, and in securing you from the corrup- 
 tions and miseries of impiety and vice; whose 
 mothers are anxiously sowing, and anxiously water- 
 ing the seeds, which, if you are faithful to them and 
 yourselves, will, with a divine blessing, bring forth 
 the rich fruits of holiness; let me tell you how 
 much you are favored, and how anxious you should 
 be to improve under the pious culture you are re- 
 ceiving; to learn the lessons of heavenly wisdom 
 which are taught you. When your mother is en- 
 gaged in the sacred work of instructing you in your 
 duty to GOD and man; in teaching you to be good, 
 that you may be happy ; listen to her instructions, 
 think of them, and when you say your prayers, 
 pray that you may be all that she is thus laboring 
 to make you. The time is precious to you, chil- 
 dren, for the season of childhood is fast passing 
 away. The time is precious to you, children, for 
 the bud may be nipped as it is opening, or may 
 open but to die. 
 
 You who ha.\e gone out from a parent's guidance, 
 and look back upon the precious hours that were 
 
12 
 
 PARENTAL AND FILIAL DUTY. 
 
 given to the counsels of parental love and fidelity, 
 how great is your responsibility ! How much have 
 you received, and how much should you return in 
 gratitude and holy obedience! Amidst the labors, 
 and cares, and temptations of life, often recur to this 
 period. Call up, again, and again, the lessons you 
 have been taught by precept and example ; and let 
 them still admonish and guide you. If your parents 
 are alive to witness your faithfulness to the obliga- 
 tions they had imposed upon you, it will gladden 
 their hearts. If they are gone, you will have the 
 consciousness, and how delightful will it be to you, 
 that you are honoring the memory of those to 
 whom you owe so much. 
 
 How interesting to us, my hearers, is the remem- 
 brance of those early counsels and prayers, when 
 they who offered them are gone from us ! We look 
 back with a melancholy satisfaction on their anxie- 
 ties for us, when we had no care for ourselves ; on 
 their solicitude to protect or to warn us ; on the in- 
 struction and discipline by which they endeavored 
 to form us for the duties of coming life; on the 
 earnestness with which they spake to us of the 
 pleasures and rewards of religion, on the hopes 
 they indulged of the progress of our talents, or 
 from our good conduct, or success, from our duty 
 and affection to them, and our fidelity to GOD. 
 
 There are no recollections so useful to us as 
 these. We should often call them up to our minds. 
 They will instruct and admonish us as long as we 
 live. Who of us that has had a pious mother does 
 
PARENTAL AND FILIAL DUTY. 13 
 
 not bless GOD for it fervently? How sacred are 
 the recollections that come up to us with this dear 
 object of our earliest love! 
 
 Has our conduct been worthy of all that has 
 been done for us ? Do we still feel its influence, 
 and do we labor to revive and strengthen it more 
 and more ? We must answer before GOD. 
 
 Alas ! What shall we say of those who disregard 
 these recollections; on whom they have no influence 
 to guide or restrain them? If their parents are alive 
 to witness their conduct, are they not ashamed to 
 meet them ; to converse with them ; to receive favors 
 from thrm . ? And if they are gone, how little, 
 thoughtless, degenerate, ungrateful children, how 
 little did they anticipate this, when you hung about 
 them with your infant arms, answered their fond 
 smiles, and lisped out the first broken accents of 
 alleetion! Oh! that you would have compassion 
 on tin-in, if they are witnessing your conduct \\ith 
 unspeakable anguish; that you would have regard 
 to their memory, if they no longer witness it; that 
 you would have rne'-cy on yourselves ! 
 
 3. In the third place, how great an obligation 
 rests on parents to confer on their children the 
 advantage of early religious instruction, the benefit 
 of pious counsel and example ! 
 
 Do I address a mother who needs to be reminded 
 of her duty ? Is there one who now hears me, who 
 forgets that she is intrusted with the care of immor- 
 tal beings, and that it is for her, by early instruction 
 and discipline, to direct and guide their feet in the 
 
 VOL. II. 2 
 
14 PARENTAL AND FILIAL DUTY. 
 
 path of immortality ? Is there one who hears me 
 who is not anxious, above all things, nexl to her 
 own salvation, and I had hardly said next, to 
 promote the spiritual benefit and eternal welfare of 
 her children ? Can such a mother be found ? When 
 ' the dead, small and great,' shall appear before the 
 throne of GOD, the mother who has been faithless 
 to her charge, the father who has impeded or coun- 
 teracted the efforts of a faithful mother, may meet 
 their child ; and how dreadful the interview ! May 
 we never know ! May GOD enable us to be faith- 
 ful ; that our children may cherish our memory with 
 respect and tenderness ; and that we may look for- 
 ward with joyful expectation to the day when we 
 shall be able to say before the throne of GOD, ' Be- 
 hold, here are we, and here are the children thou 
 hast given us ! ' 
 
 Mothers ! would you have your memory precious 
 to your children? would you be embalmed in 
 then* remembrance? 1 would you be associated 
 with their best recollections, blended with their 
 highest enjoyments of earth, and their surest hopes 
 of heaven ? Be faithful to their instruction in 
 piety and virtue. 
 
 Christian mother ! Never despair of the success 
 of thy early labors for the spiritual benefit of thy 
 child, whilst life remains. They may seem to have 
 been fruitless, but the time may come when thou 
 shalt reap a rich and joyful harvest. 
 
 On a foreign shore, friendless and solitary, thy 
 wandering, erring child may look back to the home 
 
PARENTAL AND FILIAL DUTY. 15 
 
 of childhood, and hear again the warning voice of 
 maternal tenderness ; and the light, thus early im- 
 parted, may burst again upon the mental vision, 
 and serve as a beacon to conduct him to the haven 
 of peace and safety. 
 
 On the bed of sickness and death, when this 
 world is passing away, and another world is open- 
 ing on the view, the dreadful picture of the recom- 
 penses of guilt which thou hast portrayed, and 
 the delightful visions of heavenly felicity which 
 thou hast gone, perhaps, long before to realize, may 
 be permitted, in the mercy of GOD, to come up 
 before the awakened conscience with an overpow- 
 ering energy, and thy child be saved. 
 
 Christian mother ! Never despair of the success 
 of thy early labors for the spiritual benefit of thy 
 child \vh ilst life remains; for though thou shouldst 
 nrviT be permitted to reap thy reward in this world, 
 thou mayest find in heaven that thou hast not la- 
 bored in vain. 
 
16 
 
 SERMON III. 
 
 PARENTAL HOPES. 
 Genesis, v. 29. THIS SAME SHALL COMFORT us CONCERNING THE 
 
 WORK AND LABOR OF OUR HANDS. 
 
 To know the heart of a parent,to indulge the over- 
 flowings of parental tenderness, and to enjoy the re- 
 turn of filial affection, is a privilege and a blessing. 
 It was a natural, as well as a pathetic appeal, 
 1 LORD GOD, what wilt thou give me, seeing I go 
 childless ? ' Our image is renewed, and our memo- 
 ry embalmed, by our children. They are a part of 
 ourselves. If to no one else we are objects of re- 
 gard, we fondly believe that our children will care 
 for us. The anxiety we feel, the care we exercise, 
 the labor we exert, they will not fail to repay. 
 
 If, in the season of infantile helplessness, or heed- 
 less childhood, or inexperienced, giddy youth, we 
 cherish and protect and warn them ; if, amidst the 
 diseases to which their early life is subject, we de- 
 prive ourselves of rest and recreation, that, if pos- 
 sible, we may secure their comfort, and promote 
 their recovery ; if, as they grow in years, we spare 
 no expense, and heed no privations, that we may 
 
PARENTAL HOPES. 17 
 
 store their minds with knowledge, and fit them for 
 respectability and usefulness in the world; if we 
 fail not to instil the lessons of piety, and restrain 
 not our prayers for the success of our instructions ; 
 our children will not, surely, be backward to ac- 
 knowledge the claim, or to fulfil the obligations, 
 these services impose. They will be our honor and 
 our pride; the means of improvement with which 
 we furnish them, they will diligently use; and if 
 our time of sickness, or helplessness, or dependence, 
 shall come, they, in their turn, will watch over and 
 support, and cherish us. 
 
 Such are the fond expectations that are formed ; 
 such the bright visions that are raised by the magic 
 wand of hope, in the prospect of the parental rela- 
 tion. They are expectations which are frequently 
 fulfilled ; they are visions that often prove real. 
 
 But, in the picture of the parental relation there 
 is not only light, but shade. How great is the 
 solicitude, how unceasing must be the vigilance, 
 how keen is often the disappointment of parent s ! 
 
 I grant that the son who * honors his father and 
 mother ; J who cherishes for them, not only the rev- 
 erence which he owes them, but the watchful solici- 
 tude of undissembled affection ; repays, a thousand- 
 fold, their early anxiety for him. I grant still more 
 that when filial love is purified by the spirit of 
 piety, and the ardor of youth is controlled by the 
 faith which overcomes the world; the affection of 
 the child goes still deeper into the hearts of the 
 
18 
 
 PARENTAL HOPES. 
 
 parents, and has a double effect to cheer the even- 
 ing of their days. 
 
 On the other hand, it must be granted that when 
 this filial affection and tenderness are wanting, and 
 these holy fruits of early cultivation do not thrive, 
 it inflicts a pang to which, except in the upbraid- 
 ings of a guilty conscience, there is not a parallel. 
 The conduct of a vicious child is a source of the 
 bitterest anguish which can flow into the heart. 
 
 4 And is this the reward of all our care ? Is this 
 the child of so many hopes, of whom we had so 
 often said, in the fulness of parental love, " This same 
 shall comfort us concerning 1 the work and labor 
 of our hands ? " Have all our instructions, admoni- 
 tions, prayers ended in this ? It were better we had 
 never enjoyed the delight of parental affection, than 
 to have been doomed thus to experience the bitter- 
 ness of unrequited tenderness and care.' 
 
 It is happy for those parents, with the anguish of 
 whose disappointment no' feelings of regret and 
 compunction for their own negligence, are mingled ; 
 who are not compelled to receive themselves a por- 
 tion of the condemnation which attaches to the 
 conduct of their child. 
 
 We rejoice in the gift of a child ; but it is to be 
 feared that there are many who do not fully esti- 
 mate its importance. We do not receive merely a 
 perishable body, which is to be fed and clothed and 
 cherished ; but a mind, which is to be cultivated 
 and improved ; a soul, which is to be trained up for 
 glory. 
 
PARENTAL HOPES. 19 
 
 To an unthinking observer, an infant may present 
 only the idea of weakness and helplessness; or, at 
 most, the embryo of a future man who is to live, 
 and act; and suffer, enjoy, and die. But to the re- 
 flecting mind, to the mind of the enlightened 
 Christian, it presents an object infinitely more 
 important and interesting. It has entered on the 
 lirM stage of an endless existence. It is the future 
 heir of heaven or hell. To the parents, under GOD, 
 it may belong to determine its destiny to one or 
 the other. A glowing fancy may depict no, the 
 -heart of man cannot conceive the awful responsi- 
 bility which rests on those to whom is committed 
 the care of these young immortals. 
 
 What parent, then, but must pause, with deep 
 and solemn awe, on receiving such a charge, and 
 ask, with earnest solicitude, ' What manner of child 
 shall this be?' ' Who is sufficient for these things ?' 
 * How can I take a charge so responsible ? ' ' How 
 shall I perform a duty so arduous, as has now de- 
 volved upon me?' There is a resource in GOD, 
 whose 'grace is sufficient for us, and whose 
 strength is made perfect in weakness.' 
 
 Important, indeed, my friends, are early instruction 
 and discipline. It was part of the commendation 
 given to Abraham, 'the friend of GOD,' and 'the 
 father of the faithful,' that he would 'command his 
 children and household after him, to keep the way 
 of the Lord, to do justice and judgment.' To Eli 
 were imputed those offences of his sons, which, by 
 his authority, he might have restrained, or, by the 
 seasonable induction of good habits, have prevented. 
 
20 PARENTAL HOPES. 
 
 Those of you are to be congratulated who pos- 
 sess the consciousness of fidelity, and who are reap- 
 ing the reward of that fidelity in the good conduct 
 of your children. Or, if your children have escaped 
 from the temptations and sorrows of the world, you 
 are happy in the thought of their security from evil 
 in a world where ' nothing that defileth ' can enter ; 
 and in the hope that you may meet them again in 
 your Father's house above. 
 
21 
 
 SERMON IV. 
 
 DUTY TO THE AGED; ESPECIALLY TO AGED PARENTS ; 
 COMMITTED TO OUR CARE. 
 
 Leviticus xix. 32. THOU SHALT RISE UP BEFORE THE HOARY 
 
 HEAD, AND HONOR THE FACE OF THE OLD. 
 
 HUMAN life is compared in Scripture to various 
 objects in the world of nature; to the natural 
 day, which advances from the dawn till noon, and 
 thru declines, till the sun wholly disappears, and 
 darkness covers us. ' I must work the work of 
 Him that sent me while it is day/ said the Saviour ; 
 Mhr night cometh when no man can work.' It is 
 compared to a * flower which blossoms, withers and 
 dies.' * Man cometh forth like a flower, and is cut 
 down/ In the text there seems to be an allusion 
 to the seasons of the year. Childhood is the spring 
 of human life; youth its summer; manhood its 
 autumn; and old age its \\ inter. Then, the light is 
 feeble, the affections lose their fervor, and time 
 begins to snow upon the head. The hoar frost 
 spreads and thickens ; the air is cold and piercing ; 
 the current of life moves slowly; and death ap- 
 proaches to bind it in icy tVi i 
 
 ' Thou shalt rise up before the hoary head, and 
 honor the face of the old.' 
 
22 DUTY TO THE AGED. 
 
 There is a natural veneration due to declining 
 age, which all feel, arising from the very coun- 
 tenance of an old man, and from the superior 
 wisdom and greater experience he is supposed to 
 possess. 
 
 The civilized nations of antiquity paid much 
 respect to the aged, and instructed their children 
 diligently to cultivate this amiable virtue. The 
 men of gray hairs were their counsellors, their arbi- 
 trators, their judges, and then* leaders. In peace, 
 they were the rulers and magistrates of the state. 
 In war, they were the generals who commanded 
 their armies. 
 
 Even among the savage tribes, the hoary head 
 receives singular honor. It is the business of the 
 old to instruct and advise ; of the young, to learn 
 and to execute. 
 
 It would seem, then, as if there were but little 
 occasion in a Christian audience, to enforce the 
 injunction in the text. Old age itself, if it be ac- 
 companied by a sense of dignity of character, and 
 especially if it be * found in the way of righteous- 
 ness,' will command a respectful attention. Under 
 these circumstances, we naturally 'rise up before 
 the hoary head, and honor the face of the old.' If 
 these circumstances do not exist, if this sense of 
 dignity of character is voluntarily relinquished, the 
 same respectful attention is not due, and cannot 
 justly be expected. 
 
 It often happens, however, that it is involuntarily 
 lost ; that, in the course of nature, or by the opera- 
 
DUTY TO THE AGED. 23 
 
 lion of disease, the powers of the mind, as well as 
 the body, become enfeebled, and a second childhood 
 takes place. 
 
 Old age now assumes its most humiliating form, 
 and appears in all its decrepitude and helplessness. 
 Here it is that we are most in danger of neglecting 
 the duty enjoined in the text. 
 
 When an object like this is presented to us, in 
 \vhich reason has ceased to instruct, imagination 
 has lost the power to charm, and memory is almost, 
 if not wholly, unable to draw from its stores, there 
 is danger that we may forget to i rise up before the 
 hoary head, and honor the face of the old.' 
 
 We have need, then, to be cautioned, especially 
 if the old are committed to our care, lest we 
 should be wanting in that respect and attention, 
 -which their age and condition require, when they 
 are continued for some time beyond the period of 
 their usefulness, till they have become a burden to 
 themselves, and there is danger of their becoming a 
 burden to us. 
 
 Let us remember, in the first place, that it is by 
 the appointment of GOD, and therefore for wise and 
 good purposes, that their lives are thus prolonged. 
 
 They may be left as a trial of our virtue, as an 
 example of the frailty and imbecility of our nature, 
 and to teach us the folly of human pride. They 
 may be left to call into exercise our benevolent 
 aileetions; to cherish and invigorate our Christian 
 graces, especially our meekness, patience, and for- 
 bearance. 
 
24 DUTY TO THE AGED. 
 
 They who have arrived at extreme old age are 
 often querulous, impatient, and fretful. As reason 
 has lost its sway, they are often unreasonable in 
 their wishes and demands ; and as the warmth of 
 the affections is diminished, and the sensibility of 
 the heart impaired, we do not always discover that 
 sense of our kindness which, under other circum- 
 stances, we might justly expect. 
 
 Here, then, is our trial, and here is one answer at 
 least, to the inquiry we might be apt to make, why 
 a life, apparently so barren of good, is thus length- 
 ened out. It is a trial of our virtue, and a means 
 of strengthening and improving it. 
 
 It may be that it is a parent who, in this helpless 
 condition, is dependent on our care. Here an op- 
 portunity is afforded us of making some return for 
 the kindness we have received ; of repaying in some 
 measure the debt of gratitude we owe. And what 
 child that had the least remains of gratitude or 
 goodness, would not delight to pay off this great 
 debt of nature, to pursue this round of filial duty, 
 in a conscientious discharge of all the good offices 
 he owes his aged parents ? What child would not 
 regard this retribution as his greatest honor and 
 happiness ? 
 
 To our parents, under GOD, we are indebted for 
 our existence ; for our preservation during a state of 
 infancy and childhood ; for the means of acquiring 
 knowledge ; and probably for the good principles 
 we possess, and the good habits to which we have 
 been formed. 
 
DUTY TO THE AGED. 25 
 
 They cured for us when wo wore unable to earo 
 for ourselves. They were instrumental in shielding 
 ii- from harm when we were weak and defenceless; 
 and in supplying our wants, when we were unable 
 to express them. When we were grieved, they 
 soothed us ; and when we were sick, they provided 
 and administered the remedies which, by the bless- 
 ing of GOD, promoted our recovery. Ho\v many 
 anxious, watchful hours, how many sleepless nights, 
 have they had on our account ! They have toiled 
 and labored, and denied themselves for our im- 
 provement and happiness. 
 
 And when their turn of dependence and weak- 
 ifl again arrived, shall not we watch over them, 
 and provide for their comfort, and smooth their 
 declining path, by every tender and assiduous atten- 
 tion I 
 
 Shall not we sustain those arms, now become 
 feeble, which once sustained and defended us? 
 Shall not we patiently and perseveringly guide 
 their footsteps who were so patient in guiding ours, 
 and in teaching us to guide them? 
 
 Shall not we bear with their infirmities, who have 
 so often borne with ours ? or shall we be weary of 
 their impatience and fretfulness, who have so often 
 experienced impatience and fretfulness from us? 
 
 Let us go back, my hearers, let us call up to 
 mind that we, ourselves, were dependent on them, 
 and were feeble and helpless as they are ; and the 
 recollection will quicken our diligence and sweeten 
 our toil. We shall delight, in this change of cir- 
 
 VOL. II. 3 
 
26 
 
 DUTY TO THE AGED. 
 
 cumstances, to fulfil our duty, and shall cheerfully 
 make the returns of filial piety. 
 
 ' Help thy father in his age,' says the wise son of 
 Sirach, ' and grieve him not so long as he liveth ; 
 and if his understanding shall fail, have patience 
 with him, and despise him not when thou art in 
 thy full strength; for the relieving of thy father 
 shall not be forgotten, and, instead of sins, it shall 
 be added to build thee up.' 
 
 ' Hearken to thy father who begat thee,' says the 
 wisest of men, i and despise not thy mother when 
 she is old.' 
 
 Despise thy mother ! Is there a son or daughter 
 who now hears me, that does not feel a thrill of 
 horror at the thought ? 
 
 Despise thy mother! who gave thee birth, to 
 whose nurturing care thou owest, under GOD, thy 
 preservation during thy helpless infancy ; who was 
 thy faithful monitor and guide and counsellor in 
 giddy childhood and inexperienced youth ; who has 
 felt for thee an anxiety, and manifested a tender- 
 ness which cannot be expressed, and who still feels 
 for thee, old as she may be, if she is alive to one 
 feeling of humanity, a love of which, if thou art 
 not a mother, thou canst have no conception. 
 
 Despise thy mother ! Even if she were degraded 
 and wicked, which indeed is not to be supposed, 
 thou must pity and pray for her, but thou must not 
 despise her. 
 
 A mother's love, it has been said, is the love of 
 GOD running through those hearts of tenderness. 
 
DUTY TO THE AGED. 27 
 
 It is a love which, to a 'good child, is inestimably 
 precious, and will be fondly and fervently returned. 
 
 As an additional motive to the cheerful discharge 
 of our duty to the aged who are committed to our 
 care, let us remember how important, how essential, 
 our attentions are to their comfort and happiness. 
 
 Religion, if they are capable of feeling its conso- 
 lations, is indeed their best comforter. Yet even 
 religion, though it may lead them to trust in GOD, 
 and to bow with submission to whatever befalls 
 them in the course of his providence, cannot wholly 
 assuage the grief, or dissipate the anxiety, they 
 must feel when they are neglected by those who 
 ought to care for them. But they may be unfitted 
 for the supports and consolations of religion, and in 
 this case, our tenderness, and sympathy, and care, 
 not only promote, but constitute, the only enjoyment 
 they have. Without them, they must be miserable. 
 And shall we withhold them? Let us remember 
 what they were. They whom we now behold bro- 
 ken down by age, and oppressed with infirmities, 
 were once as active and vigorous, as wise or wiser, 
 as good or better, than we are. 
 
 Let us remember, too, as a further inducement, 
 and the last I shall mention, to the faithful dis- 
 charge of our duty towards them, that we may be 
 in the same helpless condition, and require the same 
 attention. 
 
 Let us look forward to the period when our fac- 
 ulties shall be blunted, our imagination extin- 
 guished, and we ourselves entirely dependent on 
 
*0 DUTY TO THE AGED. 
 
 others for our support and comfort. As we would 
 wish then to be treated, let us conduct towards 
 those who, in this sad situation, are intrusted to 
 our care. Is it a parent ? Let us watch over him 
 with fond solicitude, study his wishes, accommodate 
 ourselves to his caprices, bear with his infirmities, 
 and render that period tolerable, which, at best, is 
 joyless. 
 
 Should we neglect our duty in this respect, we 
 may justly expect an awful retribution even in this 
 world. We may expect that the example we have 
 exhibited to our children will be followed by them, 
 and that they, in their turn, will be unmindful of 
 obligations which we have not deemed sacred. 
 
 On the contrary, if we perform our duty in this 
 respect, we may be assured that we shall not be 
 forsaken in a time of old age. Our feeble arms 
 will be upheld, and our faltering footsteps will be 
 supported as we descend into the grave. 
 
 I congratulate those of you who have aged pa- 
 rents, in the opportunity afforded you of discharging 
 the sacred and interesting duty that you owe them. 
 And I congratulate those of you who, having been 
 deprived of aged parents, have the sweet remem- 
 brance of fidelity to the claims on filial duty. 
 
 You will reap a rich reward, and it will be pro- 
 portioned to the sacrifices you have made, and the 
 arduousness of the duties performed. The clouds 
 of adversity may gather around you, but they will 
 not always remain. A gleam of joy will brighten 
 the evening of your days, and spread into all the 
 glories of the celestial world. 
 
DUTY TO THE AGED. 29 
 
 We have been contemplating in this discourse, 
 my hearers, the most comfortless period of hum; in 
 life, the time of extreme old age ; and after the 
 view we have given of its helplessness, and of the 
 few enjoyments which, under the most favorable 
 circumstances, attend it, can it be to any an object 
 of desire? 
 
 Let us submit ourselves, without anxiety, to the 
 disposal of Him who is wiser than we are. Let us 
 faithfully fulfil our duty, and then, whether our heads 
 are ever encircled with gray hairs or not, they will 
 rest in peace, and be crowned with eternal glory. 
 
 To conclude : 
 
 The intercession we have been led to offer to-day, 
 for bereaved children, calls up to remembrance a 
 portraiture of old age very different from that which 
 is presented by its decrepitude and helplessness. It 
 presents to us an aged mother, venerable, dignified, 
 and pious, bringing forth, in old age, the fruits of a 
 rational and virtuous life; retaining, amidst infir- 
 mities, the mind clear and unclouded, serene and 
 cheerful, the affections of the heart warm and una- 
 bated, forgetful of self in her solicitude for the 
 welfare of others. 
 
 Such an one we now commemorate ; an object of 
 reverence and deep interest and affection to her 
 children; troublesome only in her anxiety not to 
 give trouble; returning every act of kindness \viili ;i 
 look and an expression of gratitude, doubly due 
 from those who performed it. 
 
 We have seen, too, the devotedness of filial af- 
 
 3' 
 
30 
 
 DUTY TO THE AGED. 
 
 fection, children devoting themselves to the care 
 of their aged mother, proud of the humblest offices, 
 and pleased with the most difficult ; watching her 
 wishes, preventing her desires, catching every pre- 
 cious opportunity to be grateful with an eager 
 solicitude. 
 
 But I may not enlarge as my heart would prompt 
 me to do. Thus much I thought it not unsuita- 
 ble, but proper, to say, as an example and stimulus 
 to other children. 
 
 Such duty, as far as the opportunity and ability to 
 perform it exist, is due from all to their aged parents. 
 
 They are favored to whom this opportunity and 
 ability belong; whose parents are spared to old 
 age, and thus afford them the privilege of doing 
 something towards repaying them in kind the obli- 
 gations imposed. 
 
 Pay what you may, children, to your parents, you 
 will still be their debtors. Do what you may, you 
 will remember when they are gone, that something 
 more might have been done for their comfort. If duty 
 .has been neglected, and regret comes, there will be a 
 bitterness in the regret which cannot be described. 
 GOD, in His mercy, grant that it may not be the 
 portion of any one of you to know it ! 
 
SERMON V. 
 
 CHEERFULNESS IN YOUTH SANCTIONED BY RELIGION, 
 AND SHOULD BE HALLOWED BY IT. 
 
 Eccles. xi. 9. REJOICE, on YOUNG MAN, IN THY YOUTH, AND LET 
 
 THY HEART CUEF.R THEE IN THE DAYS OF THY YOUTH, BUT KNOW 
 THAT .... QOD WILL BRING THEE INTO JUDGMENT. 
 
 I HAVE omitted a part of this verse. The whole 
 verse appears to be addressed to heedless, reckless 
 young men. 
 
 It begins in a strain of irony, and ends with a 
 solemn and awful warning. 
 
 If there are any such young men who now hear 
 me, I beg them to read the whole verse ; to ponder 
 upon it, and to heed the warning it gives them ; or 
 the judgment, denounced against their heedlessness 
 and recklessness, will assuredly come upon them, 
 and may come unawares. 
 
 The passage, as I have used it, in the way of 
 accommodation, is a sanction to cheerfulness in 
 youth, accompanied by an admonition which may 
 serve to chasten and control it. 
 
 A disposition to cheerfulness is a part of our 
 original constitution, and is therefore implanted by 
 
32 
 
 CHEERFULNESS IN YOUTH 
 
 the hand of GOD. It is innocent and amiable in 
 every period of life. It is peculiarly appropriate 
 and beautiful in the young. 
 
 Youth is the spring-time, the season of flowers, 
 when we expect to find, and should mourn if we 
 missed, - the delightful characteristics of the youth 
 of the year. 
 
 It is unnatural, I had almost said it is mon- 
 strous, when, by the severity of discipline, or the 
 severity of system, the buoyancy and vivacity of 
 youth are kept down, and impaired, or destroyed. 
 
 They have entered on a new world, with affec- 
 tions and passions fresh and ardent. Every thing 
 has the charm of novelty, and their youthful spirits 
 give a peculiar charm to all the objects around 
 them. 
 
 It should be so. It is a beautiful world on which 
 their eyes have opened. It is a beautiful world in 
 which they are appointed to dwell. They may 
 admire it ; they may rejoice, they may be happy 
 in it. 
 
 I am not, and never have been, a believer in that 
 system which would dress up the gladsome spirit of 
 youth in the weeds of sadness, and convert the ac- 
 cents, even of early childhood, into mournful regrets 
 and lamentations, if indeed these could be felt 
 and indulged, for the deformed scene on which 
 they have entered, and the deformed natures they 
 have brought with them. 
 
 It is a system which has never been taught in 
 this church, whose hundredth year is not very 
 
SANCTIONED BY RELIGION. 33 
 
 distant, and which, I trust, will never be taught 
 here. 
 
 Rejoice in thy youth. Rejoice in youth itself, 
 in its elasticity and lightsomeness, its activity and 
 vigor, its glowing fancy and unrepressed hope, 
 adorning every scene, stretching the view over a 
 boundless prospect, and gilding all with sunshine. 
 Rejoice in the warmth of its affections; in its duc- 
 tileness ; in the facility with which it gets knowl- 
 edge and receives impressions; in all that is de- 
 signed and fitted to make it enjoy and improve the 
 scene in which its Creator has placed it In all 
 this rejoice. 
 
 Rej< lice in the privileges and blessings which the 
 season of youth affords. In its dependence, if it 
 be so, on parental care, and its consequent free- 
 doin from worldly anxiety ; in the opportunities it 
 has lor irrttinir, as well as the facility, as I have 
 said, with which it acquires knowledge; in its 
 sources of happiness, with which experience has 
 seldom mingled the bitter waters of disappointment. 
 In all this rejoice. 
 
 Rejoice while thou art young. Be as cheerful 
 and happy as thy disposition, and the circumstances 
 in which thou art placed, incline and enable thee to 
 be. A gloomy spirit is not the proper spirit of 
 youth. A gloomy countenance does not become 
 thy years. Be cheerful while thou mayest. Trou- 
 ble will come fast enough without thy seeking. 
 Rejoice iii thy elasticity and activity, and warmth 
 of affection and susceptibility of impressions, while 
 
34 CHEERFULNESS IN YOUTH 
 
 thou mayest. Advancing age and coming events 
 will soon enough impair them. Rejoice in parental 
 care, and in the advantages and enjoyments of 
 youth while thou mayest. Soon enough, alas ! 
 too soon, thou canst rejoice in them no longer. 
 
 Yes, rejoice while thou art young, and let thy 
 heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth. The 
 days of darkness are coming, and they may be 
 many ; the "days of watchful, anxious solicitude, for 
 thyself and for others ; the days when thy soul shall 
 be tortured by suspense, or wrung with the anguish 
 of disappointment ; the days, in short, when the 
 troubles of life, to which thou art now almost, 
 if not wholly, a stranger, shall come thick upon 
 thee. The days which, if thy life is spared, and 
 all other calamities could be escaped, must come 
 at last, of feeble and weary old age, when the knees 
 shall totter with infirmity, and i fear shall be in the 
 way ; ' when the pleasures of life shall please no 
 more ; when life itself shall be a burden, and * desire 
 shall fail.' 
 
 Rejoice, then, while thou mayest, in the freshness 
 of youth, in thy health and strength, and freedom 
 from anxieties ; but know, and let it not damp 
 thy joy to know, that ' God will bring thee into 
 judgment? 
 
 Rejoice, then, as one who rememberest that thou 
 must give an account of the sources and the man- 
 ner of thy joy. Let thy rejoicing be such as shall 
 not bring thee sadness in reflection, add to the 
 weight of the evils that may befall thee in life, and 
 
>\\CTIOM:D 1JY KKMGION. 35 
 
 come over thy soul with the blackness of despair, 
 when thou art called to the bar of thy God. 
 
 Let thy rejoicing be sanctified by religion; reli- 
 gion which will purify and elevate thy joy. In the 
 season most favorable to the exercise of pi*ty, 
 whilst the heart is alive to every generous emotion, 
 whilst the marks of thy Maker's goodness beam, 
 with such unsullied brightness, from every object 
 around thee, let the sentiment of piety take root, 
 and grow, and unfold itself. 
 
 1 Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy 
 youth, while the days come not, nor the years draw 
 nigh, when thou shalt say thou hast no pleasure in 
 thrm.' 
 
 Youth, indeed, like the Spring, is a season of 
 hopes, but how often are they the hopes of a har- 
 vest that shall never be reaped ! Youth is a time of 
 health and vigor; but alas! how short, how uncer- 
 tain is that life and strength! How soon may they 
 be supplanted by disease, or untimely death! 
 
 Look at that weeping parent. He has lost the 
 son, in early youth, on whom his hopes for many 
 years were suspended, and whose youthful promise 
 ill that a father's heart could desire. * Being 
 perfected,' however, in a short time, 'he fulfilled a 
 long time;' for honorable age is not that which 
 standcth ' in length of time, or that is measured by 
 number of years; but wisdom is the gray hair to 
 man, and an unspotted life is old age.' 
 
 Thy days on earth, young man, like his, may be 
 few ; hut if, like him, thou art virtuous, like his thy 
 
86 CHEERFULNESS SANCTIONED, ETC. 
 
 memory on earth will be precious, and thy reward 
 in heaven immortal. 
 
 i Remember now, then, thy Creator in the days 
 of thy youth.' Now, for thou canst call no day, 
 even in early youth, thine own, but the present ; 
 and if thou dost not remember thy Creator now, 
 thou mayest never be able. 
 
 Time is on the wing. It flies to return no more. 
 Seize the moments as they pass, and employ them 
 to the best advantage. The time that has gone has 
 left a memorial of thy diligence, or thy negligence ; 
 thy faithful remembrance or forgetfulness of 
 GOD. Let the time to come leave behind it a bet- 
 ter memorial than the past. Dedicate to GOD the 
 first fruits of thy life, and He will bless thee with a 
 fruitful and abundant harvest. 
 
 I repeat, and thus conclude, as I began, my dis- 
 course, 'Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth, and 
 let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth ; 
 but remember that GOD will bring 1 thee into judg- 
 ment? 
 
:37 
 
 SERMON VI. 
 
 EVERY SEASON OF LIFE TO BE GIVEN TO GOD. 
 Jeremiah viii. 20. TIJE HARVEST is PAST ; TUB SUMMER is ENDED ; 
 
 AND WE ARE NOT SAVED. 
 
 THESE words are not used in a figurative sense. 
 Jeremiah beholds, in prophetic vision, the calamities 
 that are coming upon his country. 
 
 In warning his countrymen of the impending 
 evils, he reproves them for their sins, and for their 
 thoughtless stupidity; which, even the instinct of 
 the brute creation, by a beautiful contrast, is made 
 to upbraid, 
 
 This leads to further threatenings, conveyed in a 
 variety of striking terms. 
 
 Upon which, a chorus of Jews is introduced, ex- 
 pressing their terror and alarm at the news of the 
 invasion, which is greatly heightened by the pro- 
 phet's hearing the sound of the enemies' horses, 
 even from Dan; and then beholding the devolu- 
 tions made by the invading enemy, whose cruelties, 
 GOD himself declares, no entreaties will soften. 
 
 On this declaration, the prophet bitterly laments 
 the fate of ' the daughter of his people ; ' changing 
 
EVERY SEASON OF LIFE 
 
 the scene unawares to the place of her captivity, 
 where she is introduced as answering in mournful 
 responses to the prophet's dirge. 
 
 In one of these responses, the words of our text 
 are included : ' The harvest is past ; the summer is 
 ended ; and we are not saved.' 
 
 The daughter of Judea had been anxiously ' look- 
 ing for good, but no good came.' The summer 
 passed away, the harvest was gathered in; but she 
 was not delivered from her captivity. 
 
 The variety of figures and images used by the 
 prophets to diversify the same subject, is admirable. 
 Nothing can be found to equal them in the produc- 
 tions of uninspired men. You go to works of 
 fancy, my hearers, to find glowing descriptions, and 
 striking imagery. Your richest storehouse is the 
 word of GOD. 
 
 ' The harvest is past ; the summer is ended ; and 
 we are not saved.' 
 
 It is precisely to such a period, as is here de- 
 scribed, that, in the course of nature and of Provi- 
 dence, we have now arrived. 
 
 We have seen the blossoms of spring unfold, 
 and the fruits of summer ripen, and the harvest 
 gathered in. But we are not compelled, like the 
 prophet, to weep over the desolation of our coun- 
 try ; or, like the daughter of Jerusalem, to bewail, in 
 the house of bondage, our distance from the land 
 of our nativity. 
 
 No. ' The harvest is past ; the summer is ended ; ' 
 
TO BE GIVKN To t.OD. 39 
 
 and we are saved; from 'horrid war,' and wast- 
 ing sickness, and every desolating judgment. 
 
 * The harvest is past ; the summer is ended ; ' and 
 we are saved from the stroke of death. 
 
 The goodness of GOD to us, should lead us to 
 convert the words of the text into the means of 
 spiritual improvement. 
 
 Human life is a year. It has its spring ; its sum- 
 mer: and its autumn. Its year closes in the cold 
 and cheerless winter of death and the grave. 
 
 And if our life is a year, what are the seeds 
 which are sown in its spring ; and how plentiful the 
 fruit which its summer ripens; and how rich the 
 harvest which its autumn yields? 
 
 Ye who are in the spring-time of life! Let me 
 direct the inquiry to you. 
 
 What provision are you making for the ad- 
 vancing seasons? Are you sowing such seed as 
 that when your spring increases into summer, you 
 will bear the fruits of knowledge and piety; and 
 when autumn comes, reap a harvest of satisfaction 
 and comfort? 
 
 If you waste your youth in idleness ; or if you 
 pervert your youth to vice; or if you spend your 
 youth in thoughtless inattention to the duties and 
 obligations of religion; there can be no hope that 
 you will bear the fruit, or reap the harvest, I have 
 now described. 
 
 It is in youth that you are to prepare for matu- 
 rity; and it depends on the preparation you now 
 make, what the maturity of life shall be. 
 4* 
 
40 EVERY SEASON OF LIFE 
 
 Seriously reflect on this ; and make such prepara- 
 tion as shall render your mature life respectable, and 
 old age peaceful and happy. 
 
 But old age may never be yours. Your days 
 on earth may be few. They may end with your 
 spring-time. Be careful, then, to crowd into your 
 span of life as much of duty as possible. Thus 
 you will live long in a short time ; and if early 
 called away, be transplanted into the paradise of 
 GOD, ; where everlasting spring abides, and never- 
 withering flowers.' 
 
 Ye who have attained to maturity! How are 
 you spending the summer of life? Is it like the 
 gay and gaudy insect which flutters for a season, 
 and disappears? Or are you weary with toiling 
 for that which affords you no real, enduring satis- 
 faction ? 
 
 Alas, this season, like that which went before it, 
 is fast elapsing. As you labor in your days of 
 summer, so will you reap in the autumnal harvest- 
 ing. He who sent you forth to labor will soon call 
 you to a reckoning, and fearful will that reckoning 
 be if you have been unfaithful and negligent. 
 
 But with many the summer is already ended, 
 and the harvest will soon be past. What are the 
 fruits you are gathering? Are you reaping the 
 rich reward of a well-spent youth, and a maturity 
 devoted to GOD and duty? There remains but a 
 little time to you. Whatsoever your hands find to 
 do in the work of salvation, they must now, more 
 than ever, do it with all their might. Happy are 
 
TO BE GIVEN TO GOD. ll 
 
 to whom 'the hoary head is a crown of glory, 
 beinr found in the way of righteousness.* It is an 
 earnest of a tar brighter 'crown of glory which shall 
 never fade away.' 
 
 The year, which is drawing to a close, reminds 
 us all that life is fleeting. The changing seasons 
 mark the silent, but sure and steady lapse of time ; 
 and it will be wise in us to learn the moral lessons 
 they impart. They teach us that our life is spend- 
 ing; for the close of every season, and of every 
 year, brings us thus nearer to the end of life. 
 
 Have we yet begun to live for heaven ? Are we 
 so living that we have no fear that life should end ? 
 Let those who have been negligent, redeem, as far 
 as t hey can, the time they have lost. Let those who 
 have not yet chosen whom they will serve, delay 
 no longer. Time is flying. Death and eternity are 
 close at hand. If we live well, we shall die well. 
 And when the brief, transitory summer of life is 
 ended, and the harvest is past, we shall be able to 
 say, 'We are saved; the reaping angel has put 
 forth his sickle, and we are gathered into the store- 
 house of GOD.' 
 
 4* 
 
SERMON VII 
 
 THE GOODNESS OF GOD IN THE DEATH OF LITTLE 
 CHILDREN. 
 
 2 Kings, iv. 26. is IT WELL WITH THE CHILD ? AND SHK ANSWERED, 
 IT is WELL. 
 
 A BENEVOLENT mind does not confine its regards 
 to itself, but cherishes an interest in the welfare of 
 others, and expands in kind feelings and generous 
 wishes towards them. From such a heart the ques- 
 tion in my text proceeded. It was addressed by 
 the prophet Elisha to a Shunamite woman, from 
 whom he had received the offices of hospitality and 
 kindness in his various journeys, and who had now 
 come to him to seek for consolation in her trouble. 
 As she approached his dwelling the prophet descried 
 her, and in his friendly solicitude for her welfare, 
 sent out his servant to inquire about herself and her 
 family. ' Is it well with thee ? Is it well with thy 
 husband ? Is it well with the child ? ' 
 
 The text contains her reply, ' It is well? Her 
 child was dead. He had gone out to the field to 
 his father, in the morning, but soon returned, com- 
 plaining of his head ; ' sat upon her knees till noon,' 
 and then died. 
 
THE GOODNESS OF GOD, ETC. \'\ 
 
 It was an only child, and all the earthly hopes of 
 its parents respecting it were destroyed. 
 
 The pious Shunamite had not come to the pro- 
 phet to utter her complaint. On a former occasion 
 she had manifested a spirit of contentment; and 
 now her answer to the inquiries of Elisha, respect- 
 ing the welfare of her child is, * It is well. 
 
 From the character of the Shunamite, and from the 
 frequent opportunities she had enjoyed of strength- 
 ening her feelings of piety by intercourse with the 
 prophet, we may suppose that her reply was the 
 dictate of a heart which bowed itself in humble 
 resignation to the will of GOD. Her language, 
 at least as it may be adapted to our instruction, 
 may be thus interpreted: It is well, because GOD 
 has done it. It is well for me, for there are many 
 ! lessons it has a tendency to teach me. It is 
 well for the child, because GOD has taken it to him- 
 self. 
 
 These are powerful reasons to the understanding. 
 May they tend, by the blessing of GOD, to soothe 
 the hearts of those who are in like circumstances 
 with the woman of Shunem. Partaking of the 
 si itV< 'rings, you partake, I trust, my afflicted friends, 
 of the spirit of this pious woman; and, like her, 
 can say, * It is well.' 
 
 1. It is well, because GOD has done it. 
 
 ' The LORD reigneth.' l His kingdom ruleth over 
 
 all.' Nothing cometh to pass, nothing can come to 
 
 without His permission. * Not a sparrow 
 
 falleth to the ground' unnoticed by Him. We 
 
44 THE GOODNESS OF GOD IN THE 
 
 hear of accident, and chance, and fortune; but 
 they are mere words ; they have no meaning ; or, if 
 they mean any thing, they are only names for the 
 unknown and inscrutable operations of the provi- 
 dence of GOD. 
 
 Now this Providence is wise and merciful in its 
 operations; infinitely wise and infinitely merciful. 
 Look around you. Do you not behold every where 
 the clearest and fullest demonstrations of the Di- 
 vine wisdom and goodness ? Are they not written 
 every where, in the brightest characters, as with a 
 sunbeam ? Contemplate your own condition, and 
 acknowledge, with grateful emotions, how much 
 the sum of your blessings exceeds the amount of 
 your afflictions. 
 
 If you every where discover, and in circumstances 
 innumerable, experience, the kindness, beneficence, 
 and compassion of GOD ; if there are every where 
 the clearest indications of His regard for the wel- 
 fare, and his attention to the happiness, of His 
 creatures, will you not believe that in the evils of 
 life there is a kind and beneficent design? Is it 
 reasonable to suppose that a Being so good would 
 wantonly inflict pain; or that a Being so wise 
 would ignorantly inflict it ? Does not a father 
 chasten his children whom he loves; and is not 
 the chastisement of GOD, who is more tender than 
 the tenderest earthly father, a proof of His paternal 
 tenderness and affection ? 
 
 Yes, GOD is wise and good ; infinitely wise and 
 infinitely good. Every thing which He orders, there- 
 
DEATH OF LITTLE CHILDREN. 45 
 
 fore, must be wise and good, wisest and best ; and 
 it is the language of reason as well as of piety, 
 It is well because GOD has done it. 
 
 2. It is well, because of the useful lessons it has 
 a tendency to teach. It teaches us the vanity and 
 instability of these blessings. 
 
 What parent is there who is able to confine, 
 within the exact limits of propriety and duty, the 
 affection he feels for his children? Who can say 
 to the tide of natural affection, as it flows out to- 
 wards the objects of its care, its solicitude, its labor, 
 its hope, * Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther ' ? 
 Who can exactly regulate the workings of parent- 
 al love, and fix with precisely the just degree of 
 tension the cord which binds a child to a parent's 
 heart ? What parent is there who always remem- 
 bers, what parent who ever realizes, how tender 
 and fragile a plant is committed to his fostering 
 care ? Yes, there is a time when, and when only, 
 he realizes it. It is when GOD, with an inexorable 
 hand, still it is a Parent's hand, roots out the 
 tender plant, and withers the bud in which the 
 colors were beginning to glow. Then indeed, in- 
 deed, it is realized. There may. have been indica- 
 tions of its fragility. A parent's heart may have 
 had its forebodings, but not till now has that heart 
 truly felt how tender and fragile it was. 
 
 Vain, delusive, transitory joys ! Direct your eyes, 
 my friends, to another and better state. From these 
 'broken cisterns' turn to the * Fountain of living 
 waters ; ' from these transient, vanishing meteors, to 
 
46 
 
 THE GOODNESS OF GOD IN THE 
 
 the ' Father of lights.' Fix your affections where 
 they cannot be too strongly fixed, ' on things above/ 
 and not with too much strength and ardor on things 
 below. On things above. It is there that you may 
 find again, and love with a purer and stronger affec- 
 tion than ever, those who are more worthy than 
 ever of your love. 
 
 For, 3dly, It is well for the child, for GOD has 
 taken it to himself. 
 
 There is sure ground of hope concerning young 
 children. Of infants, Jesus said ; Suffer the little 
 children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for 
 of such is the kingdom of GOD.' And those who 
 have advanced a little farther on the journey of life, 
 and who, by their sweetness of disposition ; sim- 
 plicity and guilelessness ; lively sense of obligations 
 conferred ; tenderness of conscience in regard to any 
 thing that might be displeasing to GOD ; have be- 
 come the objects of our fondest love, are objects, 
 also, of love to the compassionate Saviour, and 
 assuredly have a place with those of whom he said, 
 ' Of such is the kingdom of GOD.' 
 
 Fear not, Christian mourners, your children are 
 not lost. If you aje living as you ought to live, 
 they are not lost to you. The cord that bound you 
 to them is not broken. It is lengthened out. It 
 extends from earth to heaven ; forms a new bond 
 of connection with a better world ; and should draw 
 you upward. By faith you may mingle your spirits 
 with theirs ; by faith you may overpass the bounds 
 of mortality, and be with them even while you are 
 
DEATH OF LITTLE CHILDREN. 47 
 
 here. You may love them as you have always 
 loved them, and they are more worthy of your 
 alii vt ion than ever, for they arc purified from mor- 
 tality. They are safe, safe witH their GOD; treas- 
 ures 'laid up in heaven.' 
 
 He who made them has had mercy on them. He 
 has taken Them from much evil to come; more, far 
 more, it may be, than you can imagine. He has 
 taken them to great good ; to a felicity which the 
 human heart cannot conceive. In heaven there is 
 * fulness of joy, and pleasures for evermore.' How 
 much is contained in this short sentence ! It com- 
 prehends all that is included in the idea of perfect 
 happiness, fulness and perpetuity. On earth our 
 joy is never full ; there is always some want, some 
 vacuity. On earth our happiness is never secure ; 
 there is always a dread of losing it. In heaven 
 the joy is 'full and everlasting.' 
 
 The Saviour has said of little children, that 'their 
 anirels do always behold the face of the Father.' 
 He here adopts an Eastern phrase, which is used in 
 reference to those who have the nearest place to the 
 sovereign. They are said to ' see his face.' And 
 the angels of little children are admitted, if I may 
 say so, into the inner circle, nearest to the Sove- 
 reign of all, the Source of life, and light, and 
 blessedness. They do l always behold the face of 
 the Father.' 
 
 You call to remembrance the little history of 
 their lives. Many passages by others unheeded, 
 were marked and are remembered by you; and all 
 
48 THE GOODNESS OF GOD IN THE 
 
 that was * good towards the Lord ' is full of com- 
 fort to you. It is an anchor of hope to you, and 
 you may lean on it. Whatever was marked and is 
 remembered by you, was marked and is remem- 
 bered by GOD. He who had begun a good work 
 in them, can and will perfect it. 
 
 Admitted to a higher sphere, they are adorned 
 with nobler faculties. Can you wish that these 
 young inhabitants of heaven should be degraded 
 to earth? Would you call them back from the 
 sphere of such exalted services ? Will you sorrow 
 for that, which to them is an unmingled source of 
 joy? Will you utter lamentations for that, for 
 which they are lifting up their fervent thanksgiv- 
 ings ? 
 
 ' If GOD be pleased,' said a good man, ' and his 
 glorified creature be pleased, what are we that we 
 should be displeased ? ' No, rather rejoice in their 
 joy, and whilst your thoughts go out in search of 
 them, let your affections also go forth, and centre 
 where they are. 
 
 How much more intimate and endearing have 
 your relations with heaven become in consequence 
 of their translation thither! How greatly is your 
 interest, too, in that better country increased! 
 
 Whilst they were with you, they were among 
 your strongest ties to the world. They were your 
 companions, your comfort and hope, in this house 
 of your pilgrimage. 
 
 The comforts of a pilgrim are transient, but if 
 you follow them with devout affection, and ascend 
 
DEATH OF LITTLE CHILDREN. 49 
 
 by faith to the world of spirits, they will still be 
 your companions, and comfort, and hope, in this 
 house of your pilgrimage. 
 
 With what interest must we all think of heaven, 
 where so many who are dear to us, have already 
 entered ! That which constituted our greatest fe- 
 lieity on earth contributes to make us most willing 
 to depart. We are strangers in a foreign land. The 
 hour of our departure rises on the soul. Before us 
 is a country peopled with our kindred. Our parents, 
 our children, the friends of our bosom, are there. 
 Thither, by the grace of GOD, and the mediation of 
 Jesus Christ, may we follow them! 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
50 
 
 SERMON VIII. 
 
 THE DIGNITY OF HUMAN NATURE, AND ITS CONSEQUENT 
 OBLIGATIONS. 
 
 1 John, iii. 2. NOW ARE WE THE SONS OF GOD, AND IT DOTH NOT 
 
 YET APPEAR WHAT WE SHALL BE. 
 
 WE cannot fail to perceive in the world around 
 us, we cannot fail to perceive in our own hearts, a 
 love of distinction ; a desire to elevate ourselves, 
 in some way or other, above our fellow-beings. 
 
 It is apparent in the eager pursuit of worldly 
 honors, from the highest to the lowest; and of 
 worldly wealth. 
 
 It is apparent in all professions and occupations, 
 and in every grade of society. No distinction is so 
 high that ambition will not aspire after it. None 
 so low that vanity will not seek it. 
 
 And to what vice and folly does it not often 
 prompt J What wicked and degrading passions, 
 however opposite and conflicting, does it not call 
 into exercise; to what wicked and degrading prac- 
 tices does it not lead ! What pride and haughtiness, 
 what baseness and servility, what strife and hatred, 
 what falsehood and slander ! It has broken the ties 
 of friendship. It has destroyed the peace of families. 
 
THE DIGNITY OF HUMAN NATURE, ETC. 51 
 
 It has rent a nation by divisions. It has deluged 
 the world with blood. 
 
 And yet I come not here to condemn a principle 
 which is inherent in the nature GOD has given us. 
 I would lead you to direct it to better objects than 
 any to which worldly ambition can aspire. Turn- 
 ing away, in this season of sacred rest, from the 
 p-i^inij distinctions of this passing world, I would 
 dwell on that permanent distinction which GOD 
 has stamped upon the soul ; and on the duties and 
 obligations it involves. 
 
 There is no worldly distinction, my hearers, no 
 place of honor, however exalted, that will raise you 
 so high as the one that is your birthright. You 
 may impair that distinction, by seeking ' the honor 
 that cometh from men,' but no worldly distinction 
 can raise you so high as the honor that has already 
 come to you from GOD. 
 
 The poorest and humblest person who now hears 
 me, is possessed of an inherent dignity which raises 
 him far above all the objects, however magnificent, 
 which the world can afford ; for he has within him 
 a soul which GOD has made in his own image, and 
 which is capable of advancing, forever, from per- 
 frction to perfection, from glory to glory. 
 
 * WE ARE THE SONS OF GOD.' We are the children 
 of HIM by whom kings reign. The Almighty 
 Ruler of the universe is our Maker; and this Al- 
 mighty Ruler permits us to call Him our Father. 
 
 I might well say that no worldly distinction could 
 compare with this. And is it not wonderful that, 
 
52 THE DIGNITY OF HUMAN NATURE, 
 
 in the pursuit of inferior distinctions, and often of 
 those which are most frivolous and chimerical, we 
 can ever lose sight of this intrinsic dignity ? How 
 is it that we do not esteem it above every other, 
 and direct our chief attention to preserve and im- 
 prove it ? 
 
 We are the sons of GOD ; of the first and greatest 
 of Beings. What noble and elevated sentiments 
 should fill our minds ! How should we rise above 
 every thing that is low and worthless, to what is 
 dignified and elevating ! 
 
 With w r hat diligence should we cultivate that 
 understanding in which consists our affinity to GOD, 
 and in the cultivation of which we approach nearer 
 in our resemblance to Him ! 
 
 Shall that mind be allowed to lie waste and 
 barren, which is an emanation from the SUPREME 
 INTELLIGENCE ? Shall that mind be engaged in low 
 and worthless pursuits, which is designed for the 
 attainment of the most important knowledge, and 
 is capable of endless progression and improvement ? 
 
 Shall the paltry, insignificant, miserable pursuit 
 of power, or of gain, absorb those faculties which 
 can soar to heaven, and grasp eternity ? 
 
 Renouncing our true greatness and happiness, 
 shall we pursue a greatness and happiness preca- 
 rious and unsatisfying, whose foundation is in the 
 dust ? Disregarding substantial realities, shall we 
 grasp at phantoms, pursue a shadow ? 
 
 If the soul must be confined to this prison of 
 clay ; if its relation to material things demands an 
 
AND ITS CONSEQUENT OBLIGATIONS. 53 
 
 attention to them ; shall it not be mindful that it is 
 itself immaterial, and sometimes escape to breathe 
 its native air, and dwell in its own element? 
 
 Shall place and office, barter and exchange, news 
 and politics, tattling and gossiping, be the con- 
 stant burden of its thoughts and its discourse ? 
 Formed for eternity, shall it think only and speak 
 only of time ? Formed for heaven, shall it live only 
 for earth ? 
 
 Children of the Most High ! Do you forget your 
 exalted origin ? Immortal beings! Do you disre- 
 gard your immortal destiny ? 
 
 We are the sons of GOD, of the purest and best 
 of Beings. How pure and holy should be the affec- 
 tions which animate our own breasts ! How should 
 we soar above every thing that is degrading and 
 corrupt, to what is ennobling and refined ! How 
 carefully should we regulate those passions which 
 are intended to improve us in the image of GOD, to 
 qualify us for the eir-oyment of virtue and happi- 
 ness here, and of its rewards hereafter ; which are 
 capable of the highest elevation and refinement, and 
 of the lowest debasement and corruption ! 
 
 Shall that soul be allowed to become tainted and 
 corrupted, which was formed in the image of INFI- 
 NITE PURITY ? Shall that soul be engaged in vicious 
 pursuits, which was designed for the attainment of 
 holy affections, and which is capable of infinite and 
 unending advancement in holiness ? 
 
 If it must inhabit a tenement which is of the 
 earth, earthy, shall it not be mindful that it is itself 
 5* 
 
54 THE DIGNITY OF HUMAN NATURE, 
 
 from heaven ; and hold pure and elevated commu- 
 nion with the FATHER of spirits ? 
 
 Shall it forget that He who, in a peculiar sense, 
 was the Son of GOD, once dwelt in flesh, and was 
 subject to the infirmities and temptations of human 
 nature, yet ' knew no sin ; ' and shall it not sedu- 
 lously copy his pure and spotless example? 
 
 We are the sons of GOD. How much should we 
 love GOD, our Creator, Preserver, and constant, un- 
 wearied Benefactor ; who discovers his paternal 
 relation to us by unceasing care, and the most sub- 
 stantial benefits ? How greatly should we honor 
 HIM ! How devoutly should we trust in HIM ! How 
 cheerfully should we submit to HIM ! How dili- 
 gently should we serve HIM ! 
 
 How should we labor to promote the benefit and 
 happiness of those, however humble, who, like our- 
 selves, bear His image, are His children, and equally 
 the objects of His care and kindness ! 
 
 The distinctions of earth will soon disappear ; 
 and none remain but that of those who have been 
 improving in the Divine likeness, and those who 
 have debased their native dignity, and obscured the 
 image of GOD in their souls. 
 
 WE ARE THE SONS OF GOD. Such is our station 
 and dignity by nature. It becomes us to ask our- 
 selves, for it is to this especially that the apostle 
 refers in the text, Is it our station and dignity by 
 grace ? Have we been ' created anew in Christ 
 Jesus ? ' Have we the spirit and temper which will 
 secure us at last an acknowledgment by HIM with 
 
AND ITS CONSEQUENT OBLIGATIONS. 55 
 
 whom nothing that is unholy can dwell ; and who 
 will say to the workers of iniquity, ' I know you 
 not?' 
 
 Children of GOD ! Heirs of immortality ! Reflect, 
 I beseech you, on the exalted station for which you 
 are born, and act as becomes it. Reflect on the 
 ft'lirity for which you were designed, and earnestly 
 and unwaveringly pursue it. 
 
 Strive more and more to be animated by a sense 
 of your real dignity and true happiness. Indulge 
 and cherish and display a noble ambition to render 
 yourselves, by the grace of GOD, more worthy of all 
 that GOD has done for you in giving you intellec- 
 tual, immortal minds, and providing for you the 
 means of their improvement and salvation. Labor 
 more and more, to ' walk worthy of your high and 
 holy calling,' as men and as Christians. 
 
 Having received not only immortal natures, but 
 also hi<rh and precious promises, * purify yourselves 
 from all filth i ness of the flesh and spirit, and perfect 
 holiness in the fear of GOD.' 
 
 * Now are we the sons of GOD, and it doth not yet 
 appear what we shall be.' 
 
 It doth not yet appear. 
 
 It is natural that we should send forth our inqui- 
 ries into the world where we must shortly dwell ; 
 that we should pass, on the wings of imagination, 
 that boundary which the disembodied spirit must 
 soon pass in reality ; and speculate on the nature 
 of those scenes in which we soon must mingle. 
 
56 
 
 THE DIGNITY OF HUMAN NATURE, 
 
 Feeling in ourselves, and taught by revelation, 
 that we are born for another destiny than that which 
 earth discloses to us, it is natural that we should 
 seek to learn it before we go to realize it. 
 
 Bereft of many with whom our souls were linked 
 in bonds of the closest affection, it is natural, nay, 
 it is unavoidable, that our thoughts should go 
 after them, search out the place of their residence, 
 and contemplate their employments; and, if they 
 are found in heaven, join in their ascriptions of 
 thanksgiving, and partake of their joy. 
 
 All this is natural, it is innocent. It may be 
 beneficial to us. 
 
 But how little can we know! We know not 
 what they are, and it doth not yet appear what we 
 shall be. 
 
 Of this, however, we may be assured, that ' they 
 who by patient continuance in well-doing seek for 
 glory, honor and immortality, shall have eternal 
 life.' 
 
 But what is eternal life ? They shall ' enter into 
 rest.' But what is this rest ? They shall have 
 1 fulness of joy.' But what is the nature of that 
 joy of which they shall partake? 
 
 ' Here we know but in part.' < We see through 
 a glass darkly.' A veil which no mortal has been 
 able to lift, conceals from us the world of spiritual 
 intelligences into which the souls of the departed 
 enter when death has stripped them of their mortal 
 covering. 
 
 We may indulge curiosity, but it is in vain. We 
 
AND ITS CONSEQUENT OBLIGATIONS. 57 
 
 may ^ive the wings to our imaginations ; but, after 
 all its rovings, it will return to us void, having 
 found no certain resting-place. 
 
 Faith may ascend, in the light of revelation, but 
 the time has not come when 'it is lost in vision.' 
 
 The time has not yet come. My hearers, it is 
 hastening on. It is urging forward its flight. The 
 shadows that now surround us are fast passing 
 a\vay. For us the inexorable doors will soon be 
 11 ii folded. We must enter that prison-house, and 
 learn its secrets. 
 
 This spirit, now confined and weighed down to 
 earth, will soon be dislodged. ' Dust will return to 
 dii-!.' Corruption will lay hold on that which be- 
 longs to it. 
 
 But the immortal spirit, which tenanted it, will 
 through death to 4 its own border.' We shall 
 thru know 
 
 Onimsi-imt Being! What shall we know? 
 
 In infinite mercy, prepare us for that hour! Give 
 us a heart to love Thee. Give us grace to serve 
 Thee ; that, when our faith is knowledge, we may 
 know that we are blest! 
 
58 
 
 SERMON IX. 
 
 CONSCIENCE. 
 Romans xiv. 13. LET us NOT JUDGE ONE ANOTHER ANY MORE. BUT 
 
 JUDGE THIS RATHER, THAT NO MAN PUT A STUMBLING-BLOCK, OR AN 
 
 OCCASION TO TALL, IN HIS BROTHEIl's WAY. HAST THOU FAIT11 ? 
 
 HAVE IT TO THYSELF BEFORE GOD. 
 HE THAT ESTEEMETH ANY THING- UNCLEAN, TO HIM IT IS UNCLEAN. 
 
 HE THAT DOUBTETH IS CONDEMNED IF HE EAT. 
 HAPPY IS HE WHO CONDEMNETH NOT HIMSELF IN THAT THING WHICH 
 
 HE ALLOWETH. 
 
 I HAVE taken these words from the fourteenth 
 chapter of the Epistle of Paul to the Romans, though 
 not in the order in which they were written by him. 
 
 I request you to read the whole chapter atten- 
 tively and seriously, in your retirement. 
 
 It has special reference to a case of conscience, 
 which had occupied the attention, and excited the 
 scruples and animadversions, of some of his Chris- 
 tian converts. 
 
 In discoursing from them at this time, I shall 
 separate them from the occasion and circumstances 
 with which they are especially connected, and con- 
 sider them as containing a moral lesson for myself 
 and for you. 
 
 We have, in the text and context, a practical rule, 
 
CONSCIENCE. 59 
 
 applicable alike to our personal conduct, and to our 
 treatment of others. 
 
 If our brother < esteemeth any thing to be un- 
 clean ;' if to him, to act, or to refrain from acting, 
 appears to be criminal; we must not judge and con- 
 demn him because we think differently. He may 
 be right, and we may be wrong ; and if he is in an 
 error, he follows the dictates of his judgment and 
 conscience, whose dictates he is bound to obey. 
 
 We may do what we are able to enlighten him, 
 but we must do nothing to persuade him to violate 
 the admonitions of his conscience. So, on the other 
 hand, in regard to our own conduct. Whilst we re- 
 frain from censuring our neighbor for following the 
 guidance of conscience in doing what we may be 
 disposed to condemn, or not doing what we deem 
 innocent, we should be careful to regard the warn- 
 ings of this internal monitor ourselves. We must 
 do nothing that we believe to be wrong, though all 
 the world should unite to do it. 
 
 The rule to us, as well as to our neighbor, is, 
 * He that esteemeth any thing to be unclean, to him 
 it is unclean.' 
 
 Those whom we respect and love, and who are 
 worthy of our respect and affection, .may have no 
 scruples in this particular instance. They may use 
 arguments to convince us that our scruples are 
 groundless; but whilst there is a lurking sus/ncion 
 even, of its sinfnlness,we must not accompany them 
 a single step ; for ' he that doubteth is condemned if 
 he eat.' What may not be criminal in those who 
 
60 CONSCIENCE. 
 
 have no conscientious scruples, would be criminal 
 in us who have. 
 
 We stand or fall, not to our fellow-creatures, but 
 to GOD ; and we must take care that, in all things, 
 we can approve ourselves to GOD, who knoweth 
 and judgeth the heart. It will be much better for 
 us to deny ourselves what is innocent, though it 
 might afford us gratification, than to act in opposi- 
 tion to our sense of right. 
 
 Afford us gratification ! No, my friends, be as- 
 sured that nothing can afford you real pleasure, 
 which you believe or suspect to be wrong. 
 
 It is only in the consciousness of uprightness that 
 you can enjoy happiness. An upbraiding conscience 
 is a source of perpetual torment. 4 An approving 
 conscience is a continual feast.' 
 
 Nor is it only in refraining" from acting, that we 
 are to heed the admonitions of this faithful moni- 
 tor. What an enlightened conscience, I mean a 
 conscience enlightened by reflection, by serious ex- 
 amination and inquiry, and by the word of GOD 
 and prayer, prompts us to do, we must not neg- 
 lect. We must obey its impulses to act, as well 
 as its warnings to refrain from acting. 
 
 And here, in the eye of GOD, we stand alone. 
 We are to be judged by our own conduct ; not by 
 the conduct of others. 
 
 Oar neighbor, our friend, may have doubts ; but 
 if the path of duty is plain to us, we must follow it. 
 
 However wise or good, in our estimation, may be 
 those who differ from us, their scruples, though 
 
CONSCIENCE. 61 
 
 they should make us hesitate, and inquire, and 
 seek for lii^lit from above, should not control our 
 conduct, unless these scruples become our own. 
 
 They who indulge them may be wise and good ; 
 but in this respect they may be less enlightened 
 than ourselves. The prejudices of education, and 
 a thousand circumstances, may blind their judg- 
 ment, and prevent them from seeing, as clearly as 
 we do, the path of duty. ' 
 
 There is a sense, however, in which we should 
 regard the scruples of others, and be influenced by 
 them. In things indifferent, we should not do what 
 would 'give offence/ or 'place a stumbling-block ' 
 in the way of another. It is better for us that we 
 should deny ourselves what is innocent, and what, 
 in ordinary circumstances, we might do without the 
 reproach of our own minds, if it grieve, or offend, 
 or injure, another. 
 
 Such is the lesson which the apostle gives us in 
 the admirable chapter from which my text is taken; 
 a lesson which he taught most forcibly in his own 
 example. 
 
 I infer from my subject, in the first place, an 
 admonition to parents. 
 
 Whilst they do what they can to inform the 
 minds of their children; to teach them the word 
 and will of GOD; and to imbue them with a sense 
 of their responsibility; let them teach their chil- 
 dren, by precept and example, to listen to the lowest 
 whisper of conscience, and never, on any occasion, 
 to violate its dictate-. 
 
 VOL. II. 6 
 
62 
 
 CONSCIENCE. 
 
 Let them, at the same time, "be careful not to 
 brand with the stamp of guilt, what is not criminal. 
 Let them not write ' unhallowed,' 4 unclean,' upon 
 every innocent recreation in which the gay spirit of 
 youth may prompt them to engage. 
 
 By so doing, they tempt their children to sin ; 
 by tempting them to disobedience, to artful pre- 
 tences, that they may do, what they cannot now 
 do, when it is forbidden, without criminality, 
 but what they might otherwise have done with 
 perfect innocence. 
 
 Yes, might have done to the glory of GOD ; for, if 
 we teach our children to glorify GOD for the recre- 
 ations, the innocent enjoyments of life, we convert 
 these recreations into the means of spiritual im- 
 provement ; we teach them to love that kind Parent, 
 who has opened to them so many sources of enjoy- 
 ment ; who has planted these flowers along the 
 path of life, and allows them, if it is done with 
 moderation and gratitude, to gather and enjoy 
 them. 
 
 I infer, from this subject, in the second place, an 
 admonition to children and youth. May the lesson 
 of instruction I have now given, be deeply im- 
 pressed upon their minds ! 
 
 You have heard, rny young friends, and you 
 cannot but feel, that there is a monitor within you, 
 which, if not perverted by repeated neglect of its 
 admonitions, will not fail to reproach you when 
 you do wrong. 
 
 You have also heard that they are happy who 
 
CONSCIENCE. 63 
 
 condemn not themselves in that thing which they 
 allow. Be careful to do nothing that your con- 
 science tells you not to do, and this happiness will 
 be yours. 
 
 Hearer of whatever age! Be ever attentive to 
 the feeblest whisper of thy conscience. It is the 
 voice of the SPIRIT of GOD. 
 
 Does it say to thee, * Forsake the evil, and live ' ? 
 1 This is the way, walk ye in it ! ' Slight not the 
 warning ! Turn not away from the directing voice, 
 or it will cease to admonish and guide thee. 
 
64 
 
 SERMON X. 
 
 THE UPRIGHT MAN. 
 
 A CHARACTER* 
 
 [Concluding part of a Sermon.] 
 
 Job XXvii. 5. TILL I DIE, I WILL NOT REMOVE MY INTEGRITY 
 FROM ME. 
 
 THE exhibition of integrity which I have given 
 you in this discourse, is not an ideal character. In 
 its most prominent features, we often meet with it 
 in real life. As it exists in the world, we pay it the 
 homage of our respect and confidence. When it 
 passes away, it is the subject of mournful, indeed, 
 yet pleasant and useful recollection. 
 
 Such an one, a man of tried integrity, whom 
 none could distrust, and in whom all men placed 
 confidence, has just been taken from the midst of 
 us, and you will not be surprised that my heart 
 prompts me to pay him a brief tribute of affection- 
 ate respect. For more than sixty-four years he has 
 been connected with this society ; and for thirty- 
 seven years, without the slightest interruption of 
 kind feelings, I have enjoyed his friendship. I 
 
 * Thomas Dennie, Esq. 
 
THE UPRIGHT MAN. 65 
 
 loved and honored him, and he was worthy of 
 love and honor; an Israelite indeed, in whom 
 there was no guile. 
 
 We have seen him, through a long life, perform- 
 ing his duties with conscientious but unostentatious 
 lidrlity; valuing, as he ought to value, the good 
 opinion of others, but most anxious that his own 
 heart should not reproach him so long, as he lived. 
 
 Losing his father a little before he reached his 
 majority, he was cast, under Providence, upon his 
 own resources ; and was found equal to the respon- 
 sibility. 
 
 Accompanying a small bequest from his father, 
 was this testimony, inestimably precious, more 
 precious than the bequest of an ample fortune, 
 that he had never displeased him. Through life it 
 was held by him among his dearest and most cher- 
 ished remembrances. 
 
 And let me say, in passing, to the young, that 
 such remembrances, if they think rightly, will be 
 among their most cherished recollections when their 
 parents can no longer be the objects of filial duty. 
 As there will be nothing more bitter to you, my 
 young friends, than the remembrance of any thing 
 you have done to displease them, so there will be 
 no sweeter satisfaction than the memory of any 
 thing you have done to make them happy. 
 
 At an early age, I may be permitted to mention, 
 
 and no good son of a good mother will wonder 
 
 at my mentioning it, our lamented friend formed 
 
 a connection which contributed essentially to his 
 
 6* 
 
66 
 
 THE UPRIGHT MAN. 
 
 prosperity, as well as happiness. ' The heart of her 
 husband did safely trust in her,' and ' her children 
 rose up and called her blessed.' Her good sense, 
 and prudence, and judicious economy, came in aid 
 of his own intelligence and persevering diligence, 
 in enabling him to attain to independence, but 
 could not prevent the access of misfortune. He 
 failed in business, and having paid all he could pay, 
 received an honorable discharge. 
 
 But this happens every day, and if this were all 
 I had to tell, I should be silent on this subject. 
 There is something more ; something which, from 
 the honor it has reflected on his character, I fear is 
 of comparatively rare occurrence. On again ac- 
 quiring property, notwithstanding the release he 
 had obtained from every pecuniary obligation, 
 calling his creditors together, he paid them their 
 own with interest ; leaving himself and family a 
 bare subsistence. Providence smiled on his renew- 
 ed efforts, and they were crowned with success. 
 
 Late in life he became a communicant. His self- 
 diffidence, and not any doubt of the obligation of 
 this ordinance, having led him to defer it. It was, 
 perhaps, in part, too, the consciousness of an infirm- 
 ity, a hastiness of temper, which, however, is 
 often accompanied, and, in his case, was most cer- 
 tainly accompanied by the kindest affections and by 
 a noble and generous spirit. And yet, where can 
 we better go to learn a lesson of meekness, gentle- 
 ness, forbearance, than to the Lord's table, to the 
 
THE UPRIGHT MAN. 67 
 
 commemoration of Him, who, 'when he was re- 
 viled, reviled not again, when he was persecuted, 
 threatened not, but committed himself to HIM who 
 judgeth righteously ? ' His last sickness was a 
 beautiful exhibition of the efficacy of religion in 
 affording support when it is most needed. His 
 trust was in the mercy of GOD through the media- 
 tion of Jesus Christ. He was entirely submissive. 
 His heart was full of gratitude to GOD, and of kind- 
 ness and love. Many little incidents might be told, 
 indicative of this. They are treasured up in the 
 memories and hearts of those who most loved him, 
 and who were permitted to manifest their filial 
 piety by watching at his bedside. It is due to them 
 to say that he often spoke of the affectionate atten- 
 tions of his children, and of their children. 
 
 * A good man leaveth ah inheritance to his chil- 
 dren's children ; ' the inheritance of a good name 
 and a good example. It is well if they regard it as 
 their best legacy. It is well when they aim to act 
 worthily of it. When they do so, the memory of 
 his virtues comes up to cheer them in the path of 
 duty. When they do not, it comes up to rebuke 
 them, and may the admonition never be in vain. 
 
 And now, * the places which have known ' this 
 honored and honorable man, * shall know him no 
 more/ We shall no more behold that venerable 
 form where we have been accustomed to see it, on 
 the morning and evening of the Christian Sabbath, 
 in the place from which he was never, but from 
 
68 
 
 THE UPRIGHT MAN. 
 
 necessity, absent. Never more shall we mingle our 
 prayers and praises with his in this house of our 
 solemnities which he loved so well. May we meet 
 in the upper temple, and unite our voices in notes 
 of praise that shall be lengthened out throughout 
 eternity !* 
 
69 
 
 SERMON XI. 
 
 THE FAITHFUL YOUNG MAN. 
 
 A CHARACTER.* 
 
 [Concluding part of a Sermon.] 
 
 . 10. BE FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH, AND THOU SHALT RECEIVE 
 A CROWN OF LIFE. 
 
 I CANNOT allow myself to close my discourse, 
 without dwelling for a little time on the character 
 of that excellent young man who has just been 
 taken from among us. 
 
 I owe it to myself to do this; for I loved and 
 valued him; I owe it to you, and especially the 
 youth of tliis society, who, by the contemplation of 
 his character, may be excited to resolve, by the grace 
 of GOD, to * go and do likewise.' 
 
 From childhood to maturity, his conduct was 
 worthy of imitation. At school, and at the univer- 
 sity, he was distinguished by his simplicity, his sin- 
 crrity, his benevolence, and his exemplary diligence. 
 
 II engaged in his professional studies under the 
 direction of an eminent practitioner, with an ardor 
 
 * John D. Wells, M. D. 
 
70 THE FAITHFUL YOUNG MAN. 
 
 which was an earnest of future excellence ; and this 
 ardor did not abate, but grew stronger and stronger 
 as long as he lived. 
 
 He had scarcely entered on the practice of his 
 profession, before he was called to lecture on anato- 
 my and surgery, at Bowdoin College, in Maine ; and 
 not long after, at a respectable medical institution 
 in this state. 
 
 In the first named institution he was elected a 
 professor, and was intrusted with the important 
 commission of selecting, in Europe, a medical 
 library. 
 
 This commission he fulfilled with much judg- 
 ment, and returned to contribute, as he did largely 
 contribute, to raise the schools with which he was 
 connected, to an elevated rank. 
 
 In the mean time, his reputation as a lecturer 
 continued to increase and extend itself, tih 1 he had 
 attained to a distinction second to none in the 
 branch of instruction to which he was devoted. 
 
 On a vacancy occurring in the medical depart- 
 ment in the University of Maryland, which, from 
 the eminence of its professors, had acquired an hon- 
 orable celebrity, and from which a professor had 
 been recently selected for the London University, 
 he was invited to become a candidate; and, though, 
 he had powerful competitors, himself an entire 
 stranger, was unanimously elected to the vacant 
 chair. 
 
 He had now reached an eminence to which few, 
 at his age, are permitted to attain ; and might look 
 
THE FAITHFUL YOUNG MAN. 71 
 
 forward, we might suppose, to a distinguished, and, 
 what to him was first and most valued, a useful 
 career. He was destined, in the Providence of 
 GOD, for higher duties, and a more exalted sphere 
 of honor and usefulness. 
 
 When the tidings of his election reached him, 
 death had set its seal upon him. The fatigue, inci- 
 dent to the delivery of three courses of lectures in 
 quick succession, at remote distances in the places 
 of tlu-ir delivery; the anxiety attendant on success- 
 ful competition, and the journey back, to commence 
 a new course of lectures at Brunswick ; destroyed 
 his life. 
 
 Go with me to his chamber. 
 
 * The chamber where the good man meets his fate, 
 Is privileged above the common walks of virtuous life, 
 Just in the verge of heaven ! ' 
 
 He was a Christian. He had studied his Bible. 
 
 A few years since he became a communicant in 
 this church ; and, as religion had been his constant 
 companion in life, it did not forsake him when its 
 supports were most needed, 
 
 1 1 had hoped/ he said, ' to live that I might do 
 good. If I know my own heart, this was my chief 
 desire. But if it be the will of GOD that I should 
 die, His will be done. I trust in the mercy of GOD 
 through the mediation of my Saviour.' 
 
 During a part of his sickness, he was deprived of 
 his si^ht, and it was doubtful, if his life should be 
 spared, whether he would ever >ee again. 
 
72 THE FAITHFUL YOUNG MAN. 
 
 It will serve to exhibit, in a striking light, the 
 influence of his religious principles, and his confi- 
 dence in the wisdom and goodness of GOD, to men- 
 tion that he was calmly planning for himself a 
 course of useful employment on the presumption 
 that he should be blind. 
 
 I might occupy your attention for a long time 
 in describing the holy exercises of his mind, as dis- 
 played in his deportment and conversation at this 
 period. I must, however, add but little more. 
 
 On entering his chamber on a certain day, he 
 said to me with much feeling, i I am greatly dis- 
 tressed. I have thought I was dying, and my 
 thoughts were all of GOD and heaven. But now I 
 think I may recover, and the world has come in to 
 absorb my thoughts, and the heavenly visions seem 
 to be departing. I have no wish to return to the 
 world again.' 
 
 When a friend was leaving him for Brunswick, 
 and asked him if he had any thing to say to his 
 friends there, he replied, ' Tell them that I am dy- 
 ing; that I die in the faith of the gospel of Christ, 
 and that this faith is every thing to me, my sup- 
 port and comfort.' 
 
 But I must forbear. In being thus minute, I 
 have deviated from the course which I have almost 
 invariably pursued. But I consider this case, in its 
 combined circumstances, an extraordinary one, and 
 as demanding peculiar notice. 
 
 I present this example to children and youth ; to 
 show them how much may be gained, in a brief 
 
Tin: FAITHFUL YOUNG MAN. 73 
 
 period, by the diligent application of the mental 
 powers to some useful pursuit, when those powers 
 are controlled and sanctified by religion. 
 
 If it be asked to what lie was indebted for dis- 
 tinction and success? I answer, not to his talents 
 merely, but to his strong sense of duty, which 
 prompted him to intense application and unceasing 
 industry, 
 
 If it be said that his exertions shortened his life, 
 I answer, it is true; and in the intensity of his ex- 
 ertions he erred, and is not to be imitated; but I 
 also answer, that he lived long in a short time; 
 for * honorable age is not that which standeth in 
 length of time, nor that is measured by number of 
 years ; but wisdom is the gray hait unto men, and 
 an unspotted life is old age.' 
 
 1 He being made perfect ' or sanctified, * in a short 
 time, fulfilled a long time ; for his soul pleased the 
 LORD, therefore hasted HE to take him away.' 
 
 VOL II. 
 
74 
 
 SERMON XII. 
 
 CHRISTIAN HEROISM.* 
 
 Romans viii. 38, 39. NONE OF THESE THINGS MOVE ME, NEITHER 
 
 COUNT I MY LIFE DEAR UNTO MYSELF, SO THAT I MIGHT FINISH 
 MY COURSE WITH JOY, AND THE MINISTRY I HAVE KECEIVED OF 
 THE LORD JESUS, TO TESTIFY THE GOSPEL OF THE GRACE OF GOD. 
 
 IT is Paul the apostle. the persecuted, suffering 
 apostle of Christ, who utters the words I have 
 now read to you. 
 
 But a little while since, he was himself a persecu- 
 tor, i breathing threatenings and slaughter,' and pur- 
 suing even to the death, the devoted followers of 
 Jesus. 
 
 * This sermon, written in the ordinary course of preparation 
 for the pulpit, is only a sketch of an important argument. The 
 author was called upon unexpectedly, with the notice of only a few 
 hours, to preach at. the annual convention of the Congregational 
 ministers of Massachusetts, a service to which he had been appoint- 
 ed for the following year. He had just preached this sermon to his 
 own people, and took it for this occasion. The concluding appeal is 
 here retained, in the hope that it will excite attention to the interesting 
 class of sufferers on whose behalf the appeal was uttered, and for whom 
 a contribution was made at the time at which it was delivered. The 
 Congregational Charitable Society was instituted for their relief, 
 and is a society eminently worthy of the bounty of the beneficent. 
 
CHRISTJAN HEROISM. 75 
 
 Behold how changed ! He has embraced the faith 
 which he once attempted to destroy. He has as- 
 sumed the name which he once despised, and 
 rejoices to be counted worthy to endure the loss of 
 all things for the sake of his profession. 
 
 And what was it that effected this astonishing 
 revolution in tin* sentiments and feelings of this 
 di>t inguished man ? Was it ambition ? No. He 
 was the pupil of one of the most eminent lawyers 
 of his time ; himself possessed of talents and learn- 
 ing which qualified him for aspiring to some of the 
 highest stations in his country, and that country 
 the mistress of the world. 
 
 All that was alluring in the career of worldly 
 glory he forsook. He averted his eyes from the 
 bright visions that had doubtless risen before his 
 youthful fancy, and turned his feet into the humble, 
 gloomy path of infamy and death. 
 
 Was it the love of gain ? In the practice of an 
 honorable profession, with his talents and learning 
 and ardor, he would doubtless soon have risen to 
 wealth as well as to eminence. But what was his 
 prospect, I beseech you, as a disciple of the new 
 religion ? Its founder had led a life of poverty and 
 apparent wretchedness, and the band of followers 
 to which he joined himself, might have addressed 
 him in the language of one of them on another 
 occasion, 4 Silver and gold have we" none.' Their 
 wealth was comprised in the irarmcnts that covered 
 them, and the implements of their humble calling. 
 
 Was it the love of ease and pleasure ? To these 
 
76 
 
 CHRISTIAN HEROISM. 
 
 he might have aspired before he became a Christian, 
 but his own experience as an opposer and persecu- 
 tor of the Christians, had taught him that not ease 
 and pleasure, but toil and suffering awaited him in 
 his new vocation. 
 
 Examine all the motives by which worldly men 
 are actuated in their choice of a profession in life, 
 and you will find that none of them could have 
 operated to induce the disciple of Gamaliel to be- 
 come the disciple of Christ. No. It was a convic- 
 tion of the truth of the cause he espoused ; a con- 
 viction produced by a miraculous intervention of 
 Divine agency. 
 
 At the moment when his zeal against the religion 
 of Christ is at its height, when he is on his way 
 from one city to another, to seize and imprison and 
 destroy its votaries, at such a moment, and under 
 such circumstances, he is arrested in his course, and 
 the whole current of his thoughts and feelings and 
 purposes changed. The hand of Him whom he had 
 persecuted was stretched forth to lead him out of 
 the darkness in which he wandered, into i marvellous 
 
 light.' 
 
 At mid-day, when the sun shone the brightest, 
 a brighter light than that of the sun, in his me- 
 ridian splendor, burst upon him. Overpowered by 
 the radiance, he fell to the earth, and heard a voice, 
 not of anger, but of pity and affectionate expostu- 
 lation. It was the voice of Jesus, calling him from 
 the mad and cruel pursuit in which he was engaged, 
 to be the advocate of a better cause ; to renounce 
 
CHRISTIAN HEROISM. 77 
 
 the honor and reward of a zealous persecutor, for a 
 crown of martyrdom. 
 
 4 1 have appeared unto thee for this purpose, to 
 make thee a minister and a witness, both of these 
 things which thou hast seen, and of those things in 
 the which I will appear unto thee. Delivering thee 
 from the people and the Gentiles, unto whom I 
 now send thee, to open their eyes, and to turn them 
 from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan 
 to God, that they may receive the forgiveness of 
 HIIS, and an inheritance among them that are sanc- 
 liiird, through faith that is in me. 1 
 
 And now he consults not with flesh and blood. 
 His eyes had beheld celestial light, and he must 
 follow its guidance. His ears had heard the voice 
 of the risen, ascended Saviour, and he must obey. 
 He throws aside the weapons of his warfare, and 
 <rirds himself with truth, and puts on the * armor of 
 righteousne^.' and goes forth to contend with spir- 
 itual enemies ; to overturn the empire of vice and 
 wickedness, and to establish ' a kingdom that is not 
 of this world.' 
 
 As the despised disciple of a despised Nazarene, 
 he feels a moral dignity which he had never felt 
 before, and enjoys a peace which the world could 
 not give, nor take away. He is conscious that he 
 has espoused the cause of truth and virtue, and in 
 this panoply he feels himself secure. The honors, 
 and treasures, and enjoyments of the world have no 
 attractions for him now. His reward is on high. 
 4 The honor that cometh from GOD,' imperishable, 
 
 7* 
 
78 
 
 CHRISTIAN HEROISM. 
 
 immortal ; the treasures of His grace and love, 
 inexhaustible ; the enjoyments of heaven, unfad- 
 ing, eternal. These are his, and he will not ex- 
 change thenij No ! he will not exchange them for 
 all that the world can give him. It has nothing 
 valuable enough to tempt him ; it has nothing ap- 
 palling enough to frighten him from his holy pur- 
 pose. He may well say then, as he did, for himself 
 and his fellow-disciples, ' I am persuaded that 
 neither life nor death, nor principalities nor powers, 
 nor height nor depth, nor any other creature, shall 
 be able to separate us from the love of GOD in 
 Christ Jesus our Lord.' 
 
 The strength of his resolution had been tested, 
 he had faced death in every form, and in all times 
 of suffering and danger could say, ' None of these 
 things move me, neither count I my life dear unto 
 myself, that I may finish my course with joy, and 
 the ministry that I have received of the Lord, to 
 testify the Gospel of the grace of GOD.' 
 
 His course is finished. It is finished ' with joy.' 
 He had ' fought a good fight, and kept the faith,' 
 and has received ' the crown of righteousness,' that 
 was ' laid up ' for him ' in heaven.' He is encircled 
 with a far brighter glory than that which surround- 
 ed him on the way to Damascus. 
 
 Christian ! examine thyself, and see how much 
 of the spirit of this devoted disciple dwells in thee. 
 
 What value have the things of this world in thy 
 estimation, compared with the things that are 
 unseen and eternal ? With what patience dost 
 
CHRISTIAN HEROISM. 79 
 
 thou bear the injuries, with what firmness dost thou 
 meet the dangers, with what submission dost thou 
 endure the sufferings to which thou art called? 
 Born in a Christian land, and educated in the 
 knowledge of those glorious truths for which this 
 apostle contended so earnestly, labored so diligently, 
 endured so patiently, for which he was willing to 
 live in A poverty and wretchedness, and die in tor- 
 ture, Christian ! dost thou prize this religion as thy 
 greatest treasure, follow it as thy surest guide, cling 
 to it as thine only ark of safety, and count all things 
 but ' loss ' for the excellency of its knowledge and 
 the worth of its possession ? 
 
 It is indeed thy greatest treasure, thy surest 
 guide, and thine only ark of safety. Amidst the 
 vexations, disappointments and sufferings of life, it 
 is tliis alone that can afford thee adequate support 
 and consolation. If thou hast truly embraced it, 
 none of these things will greatly move thee. For a 
 time they may interrupt, but they will not destroy 
 thy peace. In the sanctuary which religion has 
 opened, thou art beyond their power to harm thee. 
 
 Christian minister ! Examine thyself, and see how 
 much of the spirit of this devoted disciple of the 
 Lord Jesus dwells in thee. Art thou ready to make 
 any sacrifice, to endure any hardship, to suffer any 
 privation, to sustain any reproach, for- thy Master's 
 S; ,1 N( . i Dost thou not, from fear, or favor. k shun to 
 declare the whole counsel of GOD, whether they 
 will hear, or whether they will forbear'? 
 
80 
 
 CHRISTIAN HEROISM. 
 
 Dost thou not, from dread of censure, or love of 
 applause, i keep back any thing that is profitable ' ? 
 
 In short, dost thou ' take up thy cross/ and do 
 thy duty, through good report and evil report, ' not 
 counting even thy life dear unto thyself, if thou 
 canst finish thy course with joy, and the ministry 
 that thou hast received from the Lord Jesus, to 
 testify the Gospel of the grace of GOD ' ? m 
 
 There is a voice, powerful and emphatic, issuing 
 from the tomb, and urging us to duty. There is a 
 voice, powerful and emphatic, issuing from the 
 abodes of the blessed, and urging us to duty. 
 
 It comes from the tombs of our deceased breth- 
 ren. It comes from the abode to which their un- 
 fettered souls have ascended. 
 
 Our brethren have ' rested from their labors.' 
 Then: work on earth is finished. Their trials are 
 ended. 
 
 We pay a passing tribute of respect to their 
 memory; utter our mournful regrets that in the 
 places where we have been accustomed to see them, 
 we shall see them no more, and, with us, it is over. 
 
 But there are those with whom it is not so. It 
 is not so with those who shared in their labors and 
 cares, and whose love and sympathy divided and 
 lightened the weight of their pressure. No. It is 
 not so with them. They feel, in the lowest depths 
 of their souls, their sad bereavement. 
 
 The heart that beat responsive to their affection 
 and tenderness, has ceased to beat at all. The arm 
 on which they leaned for support can no longer 
 
CHRISTIAN HEROISM. 81 
 
 support them. They are widows. Ah ! how much 
 of sorrow and desolateness is there in that word ! 
 
 Some of them are aged and infirm ; not a few of 
 tlirin are poor. Of one, the report that reaches us 
 is that her whole annual income is five dollars. Of 
 another, that her proportion of the contribution 
 which is made at this season, is all that keeps her 
 from the almshouse. 
 
 I plead with yon, this day, on their behalf. O, 
 how powerful would be the plea if, instead of utter- 
 inir my feeble exhortation in their cause, I could 
 bring before you the destitute children of these 
 widows, TO utter in your hearing, from that sacred 
 book which their fathers taught, a more persuasive 
 appeal than art or eloquence could invent; and 
 which would not fail to reach your hearts ! 
 
 WE ARE . ORPHANS, AND FATHERLESS. OUR 
 MOTHERS ARE AS WIDOWS. 
 
82 
 
 SERMON XIII. 
 
 PRAYER. 
 
 Psalm cxlv. THE LORD is NIGH UNTO ALL THEM THAT CALL UPON 
 
 HIM, TO ALL THAT CALL UPON HIM IN TRUTH. 
 
 You are often reminded in this place, and not 
 in this place only, of the nature, the obligation, 
 and the benefit of prayer. 
 
 So long as man is ignorant, and needs to be 
 enlightened; weak, and needs to be strengthened^ 
 sinful, and needs to be forgiven ; so long will a 
 frequent recurrence to this topic be necessary and 
 beneficial. 
 
 It is Divine Wisdom that must enlighten our 
 ignorance. It is Divine Power that must strength- 
 en our weakness. It is Divine Compassion that 
 must pardon our offences ; and, if we desire light, 
 strength and pardon, we must pray. It is prayer 
 that furnishes the panoply against the force of temp- 
 tation, and the wings on which we ascend to 
 heaven. 
 
 Every relation that we bear to GOD ; every per- 
 fection of His glorious character ; every attribute of 
 our frail, dependent nature, furnishes strong and 
 indisputable motives for this sacred duty. 
 
PRAYER. 
 
 But there is another reason why we should often 
 discourse on the duty of prayer. Important as it is 
 to our spiritual life, growth and happiness, still 
 there is reason to believe that it is much neglected. 
 
 There are some, who, if they do not say with 
 the ancient scoffers, 'Who is the Lord that we 
 should fear Him?' adopt at least a part of their 
 language, and ask ' What profit shall we have if 
 we pray unto Him ? ' 
 
 There are others whose time is so filled with the 
 cares and occupations of life, serious and trifling, 
 that they allow themselves little or no leisure for 
 the performance of this duty; or, whose minds are 
 BO intent on these objects, that when they seem to 
 pray they do not. Their words are of GOD and 
 heaven, but their thoughts are of earth and earthly 
 things. 
 
 Need I say in this congregation, in answer to 
 those who object that prayer is useless, that there 
 is indeed * much profit in praying to God?' Need 
 I say how much it promotes gratitude, trust, purity, 
 benevolence, penitence, pious resolutions, watchful- 
 ness? Need I say that GOD has commanded it, 
 airain and again, and that obedience to HIM is 
 always profitable to us, from the influence it has on 
 our character, as well as from its rendering us ac- 
 ceptable to Him? Nerd I say that God has pro- 
 mised blessings as the reward of this obedience? 
 especially the gift of His Holy Spirit, which I 
 will not say is important, which is essential to 
 our progress in holiness ? 
 
84 
 
 PRAYER. 
 
 I know that there are some who speak slight- 
 ingly of Divine influences. I do not censure them, 
 for this is not my province, but I differ from 
 them. If I disbelieve the reality of these influences, 
 I must relinquish my faith in the Bible, for, to my 
 understanding, they are as clearly taught there as 
 language can teach them. How many are there 
 who might go much farther than this, and say that 
 they would as soon doubt their existence as that 
 they had felt these holy influences, and enjoyed the 
 light and comfort they impart! 
 
 Do we pray that God would restore our health, 
 and is it not equally rational to suppose that He 
 would give health to our souls ? If He hath breathed 
 into us the breath of life, so ' His Almighty Inspira- 
 tion hath given us understanding,' and if He can 
 rekindle the flame of life which is expiring, so He 
 can illumine our minds, revive the decaying flame 
 of piety, and cause it to burn with new ardor. 
 
 It has been objected to prayer, that it implies that 
 GOD is changeable; but the reverse of this is the 
 fact. He has annexed a certain reward to the right 
 performance of this service, and the granting that 
 reward is a proof of his unchangeableness. 
 
 But, there are others, I have said, who neglect 
 prayer because their time and their minds are en- 
 grossed by the world, its cares and its pleasures. 
 To them I would say, that the world is not their 
 home, and that it would profit them nothing to gain 
 the whole world and lose their souls, I would tell 
 them that their seasons of devotion may be ob- 
 
PRAYKK. 85 
 
 served, :ind not interfere with their necessary busi- 
 ness or their innocent enjoyments, mid that there is 
 no duty so necessary us this, and no enjoyment so 
 i^rcat as that which results t'roin it. I would tell 
 them, too, th:it they can be * fervent in spirit,' \\hilst 
 they are ' not slothful in business,' and that a spirit 
 of prayer whilst it prompts to fidelity, will promote 
 success. 
 
 There are doubtless many prayers addressed to 
 GOD to which no answer is given, whieh do not 
 iii id acceptance with Him. 
 
 Have we ever offered such prayers ? Have we 
 ever felt that our prayers returned to us void ? 
 Have we risen from our devotions, and gone forth 
 10 the business of life, conscious that we have not 
 found the blessing we sought; uncheered by a 
 of the Divine Presence, unsanctified by the 
 Divine Spirit .' Have we sought for holy influ- 
 ences and failed to obtain them? If it has been so, 
 let us examine ourselves. Are we not conscious 
 that our prayers did not deserve to be heard and 
 answered ? Can we not assign to ourselves a sat- 
 isfactory reason for their returning to us empty and 
 void? 
 
 Did we seek for spiritual blessings? Were not 
 our desires after them so vague, so superficial, 
 our petitions for them so languid and feeble and 
 cold, our conduct in this respect, and perhaps our 
 real sentiments, so little in accordance with our 
 prayers, that we need not be surprised they were 
 rejected ? We * ask and receive not, because we a>k 
 
PRAYER. 
 
 amiss.' Our prayers were lifeless, heartless, insin- 
 cere, and could we expect that they would go up to 
 heaven, and be accepted and registered there ? 
 Could we expect that it was only necessary to pro- 
 nounce a form of words, in order to be renewed in 
 the temper of our minds; to be transformed into 
 true Christians ; to be sanctified, and made meet 
 for engaging, as we ought, in the employments of 
 earth, and for the enjoyments of heaven ? Where 
 shall we find a man so thoughtless, may I not 
 say so abandoned, as not to have offered the same 
 prayer ? 
 
 It is not to those who merely call upon GOD, that 
 the promise is given. We may i cry aloud,' like the 
 priests of Baal, and no fire come down to consume 
 the offering. We may build the altar, and lay the 
 wood, and kindle the fire, but, if we have not a 
 pure victim for the sacrifice, our labor will be vain. 
 ' If ye offer the blind for sacrifice, is it not evil ? ' 
 * If ye offer the lame and sick, is it not evil ? 
 Offer it to thy governor, and see if he will be better 
 pleased, or accept thy offering, saith the Lord of 
 hosts.' 
 
 Religion has its seat in the heart ; and every ser- 
 vice, to be acceptable, must have its origin there. 
 It is the simplicity of the heart that is the best 
 inditer of our prayers. The head may find words, 
 but the finding devout affections is the business of 
 the heart. We must pray with the heart, if we 
 would obtain acceptance, and we may thus pray and 
 use no form of words. We may breathe a sigh, 
 
PRAYER. 
 
 and, if that si^h is breathed from a humble con- 
 trite heart, it will not be lost upon the air. It will 
 be wafted upward. It will come np into the ear of 
 the ETERNAL, and we have the pledge of HIM who 
 cannot lie, that it will l not be despised.' 
 
 But, if the heart be not engaged, our prayers are 
 useless ; they are worse than useless. They are re- 
 garded with displeasure by a GOD of truth. If we 
 pray for the forgiveness of sins and do not repent 
 of our sins, but 'regard iniquity in our hearts/ GOD 
 will not hear us. If we pray for the assistance of 
 GOD'S spirit, and do not sincerely and fervently de- 
 sire that assistance, GOD will not hear us. 
 
 When we pray, then, we should do what we can 
 to adjust our spirits to the posture of true devotion. 
 We should 'not be hasty to utter any thing before 
 GOD;' but should seriously examine ourselves, to 
 see whether we are about to pray 'in sincerity and 
 truth.' 
 
 We should reflect on the greatness and power of 
 GOD, and remember that it is to that high and in- 
 eou iprehensible Being, who by a word created all 
 things from nothing, and by a word can reduce 
 them to nothing again, that we are to address our- 
 selves in prayer. We should reflect on the omni- 
 presence and omniscience of GOD, and remember 
 that it is to HIM whose infinite, all-seeing know- 
 ledge looks through the recesses of every heart, 
 that we 'address our prayers. We should reflect 
 on the infinite purity and holiness of GOD, and con- 
 sider that it is to that Being who * cannot look 
 
88 
 
 PRAYER. 
 
 upon sin,' that we offer our prayers. We should 
 reflect on our own wants, weaknesses, and sins, 
 and remember that it is to HIM who alone can sup- 
 ply, strengthen, forgive, that we address our prayers. 
 
 But this is not all. We are permitted to remem- 
 ber, when we pray, that it is to 'our Father in 
 heaven,' who is compassionate and ready to for- 
 give, and to help our infirmities, that we offer our 
 prayers. 
 
 And when we have done praying, we must evince 
 our sincerity by our labors. Like Moses, but in 
 a spiritual sense, we must combat while we pray. 
 GOD will not do all. If He did, we should not be 
 free, accountable agents, but mere machines. We 
 must strive to ' work out our own salvation,' and 
 we may then look, with humble confidence, to GOD 
 * to work in us, both to will and to do.' 
 
 Then, and then only^ can we expect Divine as- 
 sistance, and that assistance will render our own 
 efforts effectual. Who that has sought in sincerity 
 has not found help in time of need, and strength 
 when he has felt his own weakness, and was ready 
 to despair ? 
 
 It is thus with spiritual blessings. But we some- 
 times ask for temporal blessings and meet with dis- 
 appointment. Can it be said that we do not truly 
 desire them when we ask for them ? Would that 
 we were always as sincere when we ask for the for- 
 giveness of our sins, and the grace of GOD, as when 
 we ask for the blessings of the present world ! 
 
 Here let us again examine ourselves, and we 
 
PRAYER. 89 
 
 shall probably find that we have found a reason for 
 our disappointment. 
 
 Do we not remember how little we know what is 
 best for us, and have*we not often found in our ex- 
 perience, that, if our petition had been granted, we 
 should have deeply, yes, bitterly, regretted it? 
 
 Are our prayers the prayers of ambition ? The 
 places to which we aspired might have exposed us 
 to temptations which would have proved too pow- 
 erful for us, and to which, in a humbler station, we 
 are not exposed ; and might minister food to pas- 
 sions which, in a humbler station, would have found 
 no aliment. 
 
 Are our prayers the prayers of avarice? The 
 possession of riches might corrupt us, might 
 stille the germ of piety which had been planted 
 within us, when it would otherwise grow up into 
 full maturity. 
 
 It is thus with every thing of a temporal nature 
 for which we pray. It might prove a snare to our 
 virtue, or, in some way or other, prove injurious to 
 ourselves, or others, if our prayers were granted. 
 
 In refusing to hear us, GOD is merciful. As a 
 father, attentive to the best welfare of his children, 
 seeing afar off, though they cannot discern them, 
 the instruments of their unhappiness and ruin, He 
 mercifully averts the blow, which, in ignorance, they 
 may be earnestly striving lo bring upon their heads. 
 
 When we ask of GOD as a good, what might 
 prove an evil, the more inexorable He is, the more 
 does He manifest His benevolence and love. In 
 
90 
 
 PRAYER. 
 
 refusing to hear us, He does most effectually hear 
 us. His regard for us is most truly shown when 
 He seems most regardless of us. He is the kindest, 
 when He appears the mosl? unkind. His mercy 
 shines the brightest, in the darkest night of ad- 
 versity. 
 
 The prayer of faith and sincerity has not been 
 offered in vain, my hearers, when it operates a 
 change upon us, and renders us more fit to receive 
 the favors' of Heaven. In this sense, a fervent 
 prayer will be ' effectual,' and we shall not fail to 
 experience, when we < pray to GOD most High,' 
 that ' He performeth all things ' that are necessary 
 and best * for us.' 
 
 Oh, that we might all realize as we ought, the 
 duty and the privilege of prayer ! that we might 
 thankfully and eagerly fly to it as the source of our 
 greatest comfort, and our highest happiness ! 
 
 Let the sinner fly to it, as he needs and hopes for 
 forgiveness and mercy. Let the ignorant fly to it, as 
 the means of obtaining divine illumination. Let 
 the feeble and helpless fly to it, as their staff 'and 
 support. Let the anxious fly to it, as the source of 
 that i peace which passeth understanding.' Let the 
 afflicted fly to it, as their solace and refuge, for it 
 mixes in the bitterest cup the healing balsam of 
 heavenly consolation. In their affliction let them 
 repose themselves on GOD, and they shall find 
 support. Let them tell their sorrows to their com- 
 passionate Father who will bring good out of evil, 
 and cause these comparatively 'light afflictions, 
 
PRAYER. 91 
 
 which are but for a moment, to work out for them 
 an exceeding, an eternal weight of glory .' 
 
 If * His way is in the sea, and His footsteps are 
 not known,' if ' clouds and darkness are round about 
 Him,' and hide from them the light of His counte- 
 nance, let them not despond. He is essentially clot li- 
 ed with the effulgence of light. i Righteousness and 
 justice and mercy arc the habitation of His throne.' 
 
 Who are they, then, that are faithless respecting 
 the efficacy of prayer? Let them habitually, and 
 rightfully practise it, and they will t be no longer 
 faithless, but believing.' 
 
 They will have abundant experience of its 
 blessed effects ; they will advance in knowledge and 
 virtue; they will feel increasing consolation, satis- 
 faction and joy ; they will find support and aid under 
 the difficulties of life; they will enjoy a sacred 
 peace, *a hope that maketh not ashamed,' in the 
 hour of death ; and be prepared for a world where 
 pure, mi mixed devotion reigns and triumphs for- 
 ever and ever. 
 
92 
 
 SERMON XIV. 
 
 IDOLATRY AMONG CHRISTIANS. 
 
 1 John, V. 21. KEEP YOURSELVES FROM IDOLS. 
 
 THE caution in our text was peculiarly important 
 in the early ages of Christianity. Many of the 
 Christians were converts from heathenism, and, 
 dwelling in the midst of those from whose faith 
 and worship they had withdrawn themselves, were 
 in danger of relapsing into their former errors and 
 superstitions. 
 
 To that portion of them who were converts from 
 Judaism, it was by no means unnecessary ; for the 
 Jews, notwithstanding the clearest proofs of the 
 existence, the unity, the unrivalled excellence, and 
 supreme authority of GOD ; notwithstanding the 
 peculiar regard which GOD had expressed for them, 
 and the repeated obligations he had imposed upon 
 them, were strongly addicted to idolatry. 
 
 To those whose condition resembles that of the 
 early Christians, the admonition in the text might 
 now with great propriety and effect be addressed. 
 But why should it be brought forward in a land of 
 Christian light and knowledge ? , Why should it 
 
IDOLATRY AMONG CHRISTIANS. 93 
 
 be directed to a Christian congregation assembled 
 for the express purpose of worshipping the one 
 living and true GOD, and who are in no danger of 
 falling into Pagan superstition and idolatry? 
 
 We look around us, and there are no altars 
 erected to Baal ; no shrine for the goddess of the 
 Ephesians ; no temple consecrated to the l unknown 
 (Jod.' The night of Pagan superstition and 
 idolatry has fled away, 'the day-spring from on 
 hi^h hath visited us,' we dwell in the noon-day 
 splendor of Gospel light, and Gospel privileges. 
 There is no danger then, surely, that we should 
 worship false- divinities ; that we should bow down 
 to stocks and stones. 
 
 From religious idolatry, my friends, from the 
 idolatry of the heathen, the Gospel has happily 
 freed us; but there is another species of idolatry 
 which, though less gross in appearance, may not be 
 less criminal. I speak of that moral idolatry, by 
 which, whilst the true GOD is ostensibly worshipped, 
 the homage of the heart is paid to another. In 
 this sense, how much idolatry, what images, 
 what idols, what false divinities do we not discover 
 in the midst of Christians? What, I ask, is every 
 irregular passion which we fondly cherish, and for 
 which we are disposed to make the greatest sacri- 
 fices ? What is it but idolatry ? 
 
 To build temples in honor of GOD, then, to cele- 
 brate His praises, to address our prayers to Him, 
 to bow down before Him, these are but equivocal 
 marks of religion, and are often deceitful. To 
 
94 
 
 IDOLATRY AMONG CHRISTIANS. 
 
 worship GOD as we ought, is to worship Him in 
 1 spirit and in truth,' to acknowledge Him in our 
 hearts as the most perfect of all beings ; to pay 
 Him the homage, not of our bodies, only, but also 
 of our souls. 
 
 With what complacency, I beseech you, can He 
 regard a service in which the heart has no share ? 
 No ! All incense that is offered only with the hands, 
 is an abomination to Him. HE must have the first 
 place in our hearts. HE must reign supreme over 
 our affections and our wills. Let us engage then, 
 in the duty of self-examination. Let us see if there 
 is no idol in our hearts which usurps, in some 
 measure, the place which belongs only to GOD. 
 
 1st. c Covetousness,' the immoderate love of 
 money, ' is idolatry.' 
 
 Is money our idol ? Does this absorb our 
 thoughts, our cares ? Do we regard this as our 
 chief good, as the source of our highest happiness ? 
 If so, we are idolaters. 
 
 Though we we do not acknowledge fortune as 
 our divinity ; though we do not build altars to its 
 honor; though we do not directly address our 
 prayers to it ; though we do not literally bow down 
 before it ; yet we are not the less idolaters. 
 
 Our hearts, which ought to be temples for the 
 Holy Spirit, are the temples of an idol. We ren- 
 der it our unremitted service. It obtains our incense ; 
 it obtains our vows. 
 
 Ah, of what importance is it that we do not 
 render it our formal worship, if we in reality wor- 
 
IDOLATRY AMONG CHRISTIANS. 
 
 95 
 
 ship it! Of what importance is it that we offer to 
 GOD the homage of our lips, if we say in our 
 hearts, ' to gold, Thou art my god; and to fine 
 gold, thou art my confidence ? ' 
 
 * No man can serve two masters.' He must 
 attach himself to one, to the exclusion of the other. 
 ' Ye cannot serve GOD and Mammon.' We cannot 
 give our hearts to two objects, when these objects 
 are opposed to each other. There will be an in- 
 evitable, a perpetual conflict. We must decide 
 between them. 
 
 * Choose ye this day whom ye will serve.' GOD, 
 or Mammon. Your religion, or your love of gain. 
 They are as incompatible as heayen and hell; as 
 light and darkness. 
 
 2d. Nor is idolatry confined to the immoderate 
 love of money. The immoderate love of pleasure, 
 is idolatry. 
 
 Is pleasure our idol ? Is this the object of our 
 thoughts, I may emphatically say of our labor ? 
 
 Wherever amusement invites, or pleasure calls, 
 are we eager to go ? Do we spend our days in 
 preparing for such scenes, and our nights in enjoying 
 them? 
 
 Do we lead a life of frivolity and levity ? Are 
 we absorbed in the whirlpool of fashionable folly, 
 and hurried along by a rapid succession of amuse- 
 ments ? 
 
 Are the dear delights of family intercourse, the 
 gentle charities of private life, the sweet emanations 
 of conjugal, parental, and filial affection, insipid, 
 
96 IDOLATRY AMONG CHRISTIANS. 
 
 compared with the gay party, the splendid ball- 
 room, or, infinitely worse, the haunts of dissi- 
 pation and excess ? 
 
 Every amusement, every pleasure, carried to ex- 
 cess, is criminal. It diverts the mind from GOD 
 and duty. It unfits it for serious reflection. We 
 may enjoy pleasure ; but we must be temperate and 
 moderate in the enjoyment of it. We must be 
 careful that we are * not lovers of pleasure more 
 than lovers of GOD.' 
 
 3d. An immoderate love of honor and distinction, 
 is idolatry. 
 
 Is the love of honor or of praise, the ruling principle 
 of our actions ? Do we feed upon the chaff, are we 
 puffed up by the breath of popular applause ? In 
 short, do we ' love the praise of men, more than the 
 praise of GOD ? ' Then we are idolaters. 
 
 Profit, honor and pleasure have been called the 
 world's trinity. They are the gods whom the 
 world worships. 
 
 But methinks I hear more than one in this 
 assembly reply, ' If this is idolatry, then are not we 
 idolaters. We have no immoderate love of money, 
 or of pleasure, or of fame.' 
 
 If it be really so, my friends, you have cause 
 indeed for self- congratulation. But let me ask you 
 again to look into the recesses of that heart which 
 is known only to GOD and to yourselves. 
 
 If you do not find there an image of gold, or the 
 shrine of pleasure, or a temple to fame, is there no 
 idol there ? 
 
 Is not a husband, or a wife, or a child, or some 
 
IDOLATRY AMONG CHRISTIANS. 
 
 97 
 
 other object of affection, your idol? Has nothing 
 a larger share in your heart, than your GOD ? Does 
 nothing interfere with the duty, the homage, which 
 you owe to Him ? 
 
 If there is any thing, bear with me my friends, 
 and yet why should I say bear with me? you 
 are idolaters. You are giving to others what 
 belongs only to HIM who has given you ah 1 . 
 
 I may call upon you with propriety to 'keep 
 yourselves from idols.' I may call upon you to 
 
 * separate between you and your gods.' 
 
 Let me not be misunderstood. You may love 
 these objects. You may love them fervently. 
 It would be monstrous if you did not. But you 
 must love the Giver in the gift, and Him supremely. 
 Klse are you idolaters. 
 
 To conclude. Do you seek for riches? The 
 inexhaustible riches of GOD'S mercy in Jesus Christ 
 arc -pn-ad before you; treasures which * the world 
 cannot give, nor take away.' 
 
 Do you pant after honor and distinction ? Behold 
 
 * a crown of glory which fadeth not away.' Listen 
 to the honorable testimony with which GOD himself 
 \\ ill reward your sincere endeavors to serve Him. 
 
 * WELL DONE, GOOD AND FAITHFUL SERVANT! EN ILK 
 
 INTO Till, JOY OF THY LORD.' 
 
 Is pleasure the object of your search? Joys with 
 which strangers cannot intermeddle, are offered to 
 you ; the fellowship of angels, the presence of the 
 ever-living GOD, in whose presence there is fulness 
 of joy, and pleasures forevermore. 
 
 VOL. II. 9 
 
98 
 
 SERMON XV. 
 
 RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 
 
 Malachi iii. 2. THEY THAT FEARKD THE LORD SPAKE OFTEN ONE TO 
 
 ANOTHER. 
 
 IT was in a degenerate age that these words were 
 spoken. The glory had departed from Judah. The 
 worship of God was profaned in the land. The 
 priests and the people were alike the slaves of cor- 
 ruption. 
 
 But, in the midst of this wicked generation, there 
 were some that < feared the Lord ; ' and their minds 
 were fortified, and the sentiment of piety cherished, 
 by frequent communion with one another. 
 
 If we have fallen on better times ; if there is less 
 degeneracy among us ; if there is a more general 
 acknowledgment of religious obligations ; still there 
 was something, even in those times, which is wor- 
 thy of our imitation. We find it in the text. ' They 
 that feared the Lord spake often one to another? 
 They spake of religion ; of GOD and duty ; for it is 
 said that 'the Lord hearkened and heard, and a 
 book of remembrance was written before HIM for 
 
RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 99 
 
 them that fear the Lord and that thought upon His 
 name.' 
 
 It is to religious conversation, then, that the text 
 directs our attention ; and I scarcely know a subject 
 on which a word of admonition is more needed than 
 this. 
 
 Mankind are variously occupied. They are en- 
 gaged in professions and employments which lead 
 them into different paths. Among those who are 
 engaged in the same pursuit, there is frequent com- 
 munion. It is natural and fit that it should be so. 
 It promotes information, activity, enterprise. 
 
 But however variously mankind may be occupied, 
 in however different paths they may be pursuing the 
 journey of life, there is one subject in" which they 
 have a common interest, and one path in which 
 they are travelling together. 
 
 The subject in which they have a common inter- 
 est is religion ; and the path in which they are 
 walking together, is the path to the grave. 
 
 Is it not natural and fit that this subject should 
 occupy much of their attention; and that, as they 
 travel together, it should often find a place in their 
 discourse ? Worldly pursuits terminate at death. 
 The factitious distinctions which wealth and honor 
 confer, have no place in ' the land without any 
 order.' 
 
 1 We brought nothing into the world with us, 
 and we can carry nothing out.' But it is not so 
 with intellectual and moral pursuits. They relate 
 to the immortal part of our nature, and are them- 
 
100 
 
 RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 
 
 selves immortal. The acquisitions of wisdom and 
 piety accompany us into the region beyond the 
 grave ; and have an important influence on our eter- 
 nal well-being. All that relates merely to the present 
 world will soon have no place in our regard. The 
 time is coming when the interests of this world will 
 be nothing, and religion every thing ; when the time 
 which has been spent in idle, frivolous conversation 
 will be remembered with poignant regret ; and the 
 time which has been devoted to religious commu- 
 nion, with unspeakable satisfaction and comfort. 
 
 If I could lift the curtain of eternity, and disclose 
 to you the awful realities that are hidden behind it, 
 you would realize, but, till that curtain is lifted, 
 and the disembodied spirit is permitted to behold 
 the scene to which this scene is preparatory, you 
 cannot fully realize, how deeply this subject con- 
 cerns you. You are now inhabitants of earth. You 
 have known no other world than this. Your closest 
 ties, your dearest and most interesting associations 
 are here. It is difficult for you to feel, however 
 you may believe, that this world is not your home. 
 You lay plans for an earthly futurity. You < buy, 
 and sell, and get gain ; ' and if you breathe a sigh 
 that life is short and uncertain, do you not say in 
 the same breath, ' Soul, take thine ease, thou hast 
 goods laid up for many years ? ' 
 
 Here is one reason why an admonition on this 
 subject is needed. The subject is all-important and 
 momentous. It is important as our intellectual 
 and immortal nature. It is momentous as the con- 
 
RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 101 
 
 cerns of eternity. If it becomes us to speak often io 
 one another on the business of this fleeting life, it 
 much more becomes us to speak often one to another 
 on the business of a life that will never end. 
 
 But what is the fact ? Alas ! we need have but 
 little intercourse with the world to perceive that the 
 reverse of this is the fact. 
 
 It is well that the hours of business should be 
 devoted to useful business, and hours of recreation 
 to harmless recreation, and at such seasons the con- 
 versation may partake of the nature of the employ- 
 ment. But how little is spared to high and holy 
 converse with one another! Even among those 
 who are known to each other as fearing the same 
 God, and trusting in the same Saviour, as members 
 of the same household of faith ; who have joined 
 together in the exercises of devotion, and are re- 
 membered, it may be, it should be, in each 
 other's prayers; even among these, too, religious 
 conversation seems to be almost interdicted; is 
 chilled with obstinate silence, if it is not rebuked 
 with a sneer. Even they speak to one another on 
 subjects the most frivolous, or subjects worse than 
 frivolous, in preference to those which belong to 
 their best welfare. l The Lord hearkeneth and 
 heareth.' A book of remembrance is written be- 
 fore HIM, and ' for every idle word we must give 
 account.' 
 
 Here, then, is another reason why an admonition 
 on this subject is needed. Notwithstanding the 
 9* 
 
102 RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 
 
 importance of religion, there is comparatively but 
 little religious conversation. 
 
 There is political conversation. There is con- 
 versation about parties of pleasure, and about 
 amusements. There is conversation about people's 
 character and conduct. There is conversation about 
 preachers and preaching ; conversation about points 
 of ' doubtful disputation which engender strife, but 
 do not serve for edifying ; ' which destroy the kind 
 affections, and root out the Christian graces. There 
 is much gossiping about religion, but very little re- 
 ligious conversation. 
 
 How much has what is termed religious conver- 
 sation been perverted ! It has been worn as a mask 
 by hypocrisy. It has cherished and manifested the 
 complacency of spiritual pride. It has served as a 
 vehicle for denunciation and anathematizing to big- 
 otry and intolerance. It has fostered the religion 
 of the fancy, cold in heart and powerless in con- 
 duct. 
 
 But, though the instrument has been abused, it 
 is not in itself the less valuable. How pure and 
 soothing, how noble and elevating, are the themes 
 with which religion is conversant ! 
 
 What is there in the whole range of intellectual 
 and moral speculation with which religion may not 
 be united, and on which the conversation of the 
 pious may not with propriety and advantage dwell ? 
 
 * Let them that fear the Lord,' then, i speak often 
 one to another ' on these delightful themes. Let 
 them dwell on the goodness by which every creature 
 
RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 103 
 
 of GOD is blessed ; on the love which remembered 
 them in their lost estate, and provided a ransom for 
 them; on 'the liberty wherewith Christ has made 
 his people free.' By the interchange of pious senti- 
 ments, let them kindle in each other's breasts a 
 brighter flame of piety. 
 
 In the domestic circle, in the confidential hour, 
 let religion have its place. Let them speak to one 
 smother of GOD and heaven, whom GOD has united 
 in the closest and tenderest ties. If in every other 
 good they delight to share with each other; if in 
 every other sorrow they seek from each other support 
 and consolation ; Oh, let them not refuse to share 
 in the joys of religion, or to seek for its assistance 
 and sympathy in their doubts and difficulties ! Let 
 the heads and members of families, let friends and 
 acquaintance * take counsel together ' in those pur- 
 suits \\ hieh are to prepare them for eternity. 
 
 Conversation has great influence upon conduct. 
 Let us consider one another,' says the apostle, * to 
 provoke to love and good works.' It is easy to 
 stir up selfishness and wrath by the tongue, and by 
 the same instrument we may provoke to benefi- 
 cence. There are principles of benevolence which, 
 in young minds, may be cherished and drawn forth 
 by presenting kind and compassionate views: by 
 combating ungenerous and cruel maxims; by ap- 
 proving and ripening plans of usefulness. We are 
 not to boast of alms, but, by mutual consultation, 
 advice is obtained ; incitement is given ; proper ob- 
 jects are discovered, and imposition is detected; 
 
104 
 
 RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 
 
 knowledge in the doctrine of alms is increased ; the 
 heart is enlarged, and generous affections kindled. 
 Ordinary conversation is very properly seasoned 
 with the praise of goodness. Indignation at vice 
 may be tinged with personal animosity, but the 
 love and praise of virtue indicates ' pure and un- 
 defiled religion.' 
 
 Some who cannot give much alms may persuade 
 the rich to give. Wisdom, and eloquence, and in- 
 fluence of every kind, are worthily exerted in the 
 cause of charity. 
 
 But I must not forget to say that ' for every thing 
 there is* a season.' We are at all seasons to be 
 religious ; but there are times when religious topics 
 may not be well introduced. Our Saviour teaches 
 us this, when he says l Give not that which is holy 
 to the dogs ; ' l Cast not your pearls before swine, 
 lest they trample them under their feet, and turn 
 again and rend you.' 
 
 Whilst the Christian should watch for oppor- 
 tunities to advance the cause of religion, he should 
 be careful not to expose it to the ribaldry of profane- 
 ness, or the sneer of folly. 
 
 My hearers, I have said that religion is all im- 
 portant ; and I trust in saying this I have a testi- 
 mony to the truth of the assertion in the conviction 
 of every mind. Would that I might say in the 
 feeling of -ery heart! 
 
 I have said, too, that the time is coming when 
 all other subjects will have lost their power to 
 interest us. It will be happy for us if our spirits 
 
RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 105 
 
 can then be revived and animated by the words of 
 affectionate |>i'ty; if the heart from which the tide 
 of life is ebbing, can rest on that anchor which is 
 sure and steadfast. It will be happy indeed if we 
 can enjoy the soothing reflection that, amid all that 
 frivolous, and unprofitable, and sinful in the 
 world, 'we have had our conversation in heaven.' 
 
106 
 
 SERMON XVI. 
 
 GOD ALL-SUFFICIENT ON EARTH AND IN HEAVEN. 
 
 Psalm Ixxiii. 25. WHOM HAVE i IN HEAVEN BUT THEE? AND THERE 
 
 IS NONE UPON EARTH THAT I DESIRE BESIDE THEE. 
 
 THESE are strong expressions. Is it right, is it 
 possible, that we should adopt them ? Though we 
 should doubtless love GOD supremely ; are there not 
 many on earth whom we should love beside Him ? 
 Are there not many in heaven, spirits of the 
 just made perfect, to whom our thoughts may 
 turn, must turn, with fondest interest and af- 
 fection ? 
 
 The Author of our nature does not forbid the 
 exercise of its kindly and social affections. HE 
 who implanted them has taught us to cherish them ; 
 and has presented us with other objects than Him- 
 self, on whom they may be placed. 
 
 I know not the precise state of feeling in which 
 the words of the text were uttered. The 
 Psalmist had found treachery in his friend, and 
 ingratitude in the son whom he loved. He was 
 ' plagued,' to use his own expression, ' all the day 
 long.' 
 
GOD ALL-SUFFICIENT, ETC. 107 
 
 It may have been from the depth of human 
 vanity, and vexation, that his heart ascended to 
 GOD. It may have been with a feeling of weariness 
 and disgust with every thing about him, and in a 
 spirit somewhat querulous, that he said, l There is 
 none on earth that I desire beside THEE.' 
 
 I believe, however, that it was in a moment of 
 Blowing and rapturous devotion ; when, feeling the 
 want of earthly comforts, he found a sufficiency in 
 GOD. * In Thy presence is fulness of joy.' * Thou 
 art able to supply all my need.' ' With thee I shall 
 not want ; I have enough.' * Whom have I in 
 heaven but THEE ? and there is none on earth whom 
 I desire beside THEE.' 
 
 The passage is sometimes rendered in comparison 
 with Tur.i:. But the expression is faint and feeble. 
 The original implies much more. 
 
 If we were bereft of every object that is dear to 
 us on earth, it would be sad, and heart-rending 
 indeed. We might be ready to say, in the prospect 
 of it, that the trial would be greater than we could 
 bear ; that we could find no compensation for the 
 loss. But, if we acquainted ourselves with GOD, 
 we should be at peace. In the sense of His pres- 
 ence, and the enjoyment of His favor, our loss 
 would be supplied. 
 
 This is not conjecture. How often have we 
 seen it exemplified ! The earthly cords of affection, 
 one after another have been broken ; and the devout, 
 confiding, rejoicing spirit, has been able to say, 
 * Although the fig-tree should not blossom and 
 
108 
 
 GOD ALL-SUFFICIENT ON 
 
 there should be no fruit in the vine, yet will I 
 rejoice in the Lord, and joy in the GOD of my 
 salvation.' ' Though He slay me, yet will I trust 
 in Him.' We have seen it most fully and clearly 
 and impressively, on the bed of death ; when faith, 
 leaning upon that anchor which ' enters within the 
 veil,' was enjoying a foretaste of heaven ; when 
 every thing here has been relinquished; when the 
 last passion that warms a mother's heart, love 
 and solicitude for her children, has been subdued ; 
 has been absorbed, if I may say so, in the love 
 of GOD; when one idea has seemed to fill the 
 mind, one affection to engross the soul ; ' Whom 
 have I in heaven but THEE, and there is none upon 
 earth that I desire beside THEE ? ' 
 
 But, if we might find a consolation in the pres- 
 ence and favor of GOD for every loss, how would it 
 be if we were bereft of GOD? What would be 
 our condition if every thing else were left to us, 
 and GOD were taken from us? They who now 
 appear to have little regard for His presence and 
 favor, were it possible for them to exist without 
 HIM, would have a sense of destitution of which 
 they can now have no conception; and they who 
 have been accustomed to rejoice in His presence, 
 would feel that all that was left, was utterly value- 
 less. ' There is none upon earth that I desire 
 beside THEE.' GOD can supply the loss of every 
 tiling, but nothing can supply the loss of GOD. 
 
 As it is on earth, so it is in heaven. There could 
 be no such place as heaven without GOD. Where 
 
EARTH AND IN HEAVEN. H> ( .) 
 
 GOD is, there is heaven. It is His presence, 
 however inferior streams of happiness may refresh 
 us, it is His presence which constitutes that 
 4 river of pleasure' which was seen by the apostle, 
 in his vision, as proceeding from the throne of GOD. 
 How unwise, then, how mad are they who substi- 
 tute inferior objects, for GOD; who fix on the 
 creature those regards which are due to the Creator; 
 wlh> are seeking at 4 broken cisterns' what can only 
 be found at the Fountain of living waters ! How un- 
 Wise are they ? how regardless of their true interests, 
 who are t ;ik ing for their portion that which cannot 
 satisfy them; that of which a thousand accidents 
 may deprive them ; that, with which, without GOD, 
 they cannot be truly happy ; and which, if a pure, 
 legitimate source of enjoyment, should lead them 
 up to HIM. tin- Fountain whence it flows ; to HIM 
 with whose nature are essentially connected all the 
 qualities, that can engage the heart; and all the 
 lions of power and wisdom and goodness, 
 on which they may repose with perfect confidence. 
 And if they are unwise and regardless of their 
 true interests, who are suffering the objects on 
 which their affections may be lawfully placed, to 
 engross their hearts, what shall we say of those who 
 are seeking their happiness in that which is opposed 
 to GOD ; who are not only neglecting the 4 Fountain 
 of living waters,' but ;ire drinking deep from the 
 springs which sin has poisoned? The charm will 
 soon be broken. The idols to which the heart has 
 
 VOL. II. 10 
 
110 GOD ALL-SUFFICIENT, ETC. 
 
 been knit, will soon appear in their true light ; and 
 what will then remain ? 
 
 In the possession of health and spirits, all 
 this may do, and no great want may be felt, 
 and no serious evil apprehended; but there is a 
 certain hour which one would wish ' all undis- 
 turbed and bright,' and that is when we die ; when 
 we go hence ne'er to be seen again ; the hour 
 when 'heart and strength shall fail.' Where 
 then are all the sources of gratification with which 
 the sinner contented himself while in health? 
 Where are they when 'the earthly house of this 
 tabernacle is dissolved,' and the immortal soul is 
 separated from this scene forever ? Where are they 
 when the spirit has entered into eternity, and 
 there is nothing but his sins to come between the 
 sinner and his GOD ? It is for the imagination only 
 to portray that scene. GOD GRANT THAT, TO us, 
 
 THERE MAY BE NOTHING REAL ! 
 
Ill 
 
 SERMON XVII. 
 
 TIIE EYE OF GOD ALWAYS UPON US. 
 Genesis xvi. 13. THOU GOD SEEST MB. 
 
 WHEN Moses delivered the law of GOD to the 
 people of Israel, who were assembled at the foot of 
 Mount Sinai, he spake with all the authority which 
 resulted from the presence of the Law-giver. He 
 could point to the mountain and say 4 Behold the 
 glory which manifests the presence of the MOST 
 HIGH.' 
 
 The effect was instantaneous and irresistible, 
 however transient. A response was heard from the 
 whole congregation, 4 A11 the LORD hath spoken, we 
 will do/ 
 
 And such would doubtless be the effect, my hear- 
 er.-, if the visible presence of GOD should fill this 
 place, and bring home to the hearts of the worship- 
 JMT- the solemn truth on which we are now medi- 
 tating. 
 
 If that Eye which is never closed, but which is 
 every moment directing its piercing glance at every 
 heart, were now seen in its infinite brightness, pen- 
 etrating the recesses of our hearts in this season of 
 our apparent devotion, how powerful, how irresisti- 
 ble the influence! 
 
112 THE EYE OF GOD ALWAYS UPON US. 
 
 Divest yourselves in imagination, for a moment, 
 of this veil of flesh and blood that surrounds you? 
 and the idea becomes reality. 
 
 The eye of the mind discerns the presence of a 
 Spirit filling this sanctuary. THAT SPIRIT is GOD. 
 
 To the mental vision, an Eye appears of infinite 
 brightness penetrating the recesses of every heart. 
 THAT EYE is GOD'S. 
 
 Let us open our minds to the influence of these 
 reflections. 
 
 1. "We have come hither to worship. Let each 
 one repeat to his own heart, " i THOU GOD seest me.' 
 If there is an altar within me devoted to thy wor- 
 ship ; if the wood is laid, and the sacrifice prepared, 
 and the fire kindled, THOU knowest it. If there is 
 no altar there, and no sacrifice, and no flame of de- 
 votion, it is equally known to THEE. I may de- 
 ceive others, I may deceive myself, but THEE I 
 cannot deceive. Whilst I believe in Thy presence, 
 may I feel its influence ; that my thoughts may be 
 pure ; my feelings devout, and my purposes holy ; 
 so that this which is ' none other than the house of 
 GOD,' may prove indeed to me * the gate of heaven.' " 
 
 2. We are to leave this place, and mingle again 
 in the avocations of the world. Let us carry with 
 us, and keep with us, the awful idea which now 
 occupies our minds. Let it be a ' light to our path, 
 and a lamp to our feet,' to keep us from every false 
 and evil way. 
 
 In transacting the business of life, let each one 
 say to himself, " ' Thou GOD seest me.' If I am up- 
 
THE EYE OF GOD ALWAYS UPON US. 113 
 
 in my intentions, sincere in my discourse, 
 I'M it h ful to my engagements, honest and conscien- 
 tious in my dealings, it is known to THEE. If my 
 purjx ).<<> are sinful, and my words deceitful, if to 
 my engagements I am faithless, and in my dealings 
 dishonest, it is equally known to THEE. I may de- 
 ceive others, but THEE I cannot deceive. I may 
 take advantage of my neighbor's ignorance, and of 
 the confidence he reposes in me. I may reap the 
 reward in unrighteous, ill-gotten gain, but what 
 will it avail me ? In every purpose of my heart ; in 
 every word I have uttered ; in every deed I have 
 done, the Eye of GOD was upon me, and a fearful 
 retribution awaits me." 
 
 And if such were the reflections of every heart 
 in every moment, and in every place, they would 
 have their foundation in nothing else than truth, 
 As surely as there is a GOD who created all things, 
 so surely must HE be always present with tin; 
 thiiiLT- Hi: lias made. 'He that planted the ear, 
 must hear ; He that formed the eye, must see.' He 
 whose almighty inspiration gave man understand- 
 ing, must know ; and HE will not suffer the workers 
 of iniquity to go unpunished. 
 
 In partaking of the enjoyments, no less than in 
 transacting the business of life, the reflection, l Thou 
 GOD seest me,' should be ever present with us. to 
 restrain us from sin, and keep us within the limits 
 of rational and innocent enjoyment. 
 
 We cannot hide ourselves from GOD. No, my 
 young friends, let it be early, and deeply, and ha- 
 10* 
 
114 THE EYE OF GOD ALWAYS UPON US. 
 
 bitually impressed on your minds, that you cannot 
 hide yourselves from GOD. 
 
 When the eye of parental tenderness and affec- 
 tion is not upon you, the Eye of GOD is upon 
 you. You may deceive your parents, but you can- 
 not deceive your GOD. If you are idle and vicious, 
 profane and irreligious, nay, if one evil thought is 
 admitted, one wicked word uttered, one sinful 
 action performed, HE as surely beholds it, as if 
 you could discern HIM without you, or be conscious 
 to His presence within you. All your thoughts and 
 words and actions are open before HIM. 
 
 Never indulge any thought, then, you would be 
 unwilling HE should know. Never speak any word 
 you would be unwilling HE should hear. Never per- 
 form any action you would be unwilling HE should 
 witness. When tempted to do wrong, call up to 
 mind the words of the text, ' Thou GOD seest me/ 
 to fortify your minds and keep you from sin. Be 
 virtuous and good, and GOD, who sees you, will 
 love and bless you. 
 
 My text is in itself a sermon. It is a lesson of 
 instruction in four words. But, short as it is, if it 
 has its proper influence upon us, it will effect all 
 that religion is designed to effect. 
 
 Carry it home with you, my hearers. Preach it 
 to yourselves here and every where ; in your busi- 
 ness and recreations ; in your intercourse with others 
 and in your solitary communion with your own 
 hearts ; and in that day when the secrets of all 
 hearts are revealed, may it be manifest that it has 
 not been preached in vain ! 
 
115 
 
 SERMON XVIII. 
 
 THE DEVOUT SPIRIT ALWAYS WITH GOD. 
 Psalms cxxxii. 18. WHEN i AWAKE I AM STILL WITH THEB. 
 
 IN this chapter the Psalmist, with great sublimity 
 and beauty of language, describes the omnipres- 
 ence and omniscience of GOD. 4 O Lord, thou hast 
 searched me and known me. Thou knowest my 
 down-sitting and uprising, thou understandest my 
 thoughts afar off. Whither shall I go from Thy sj >i rii , 
 or flee from Thy presence? If I ascend up into 
 heaven, Thou art there ; if I make my bed in hell, 
 behold, Thou art there. If I take the wings of the 
 morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, 
 even there shall Thy hand lead me, and Thy right 
 hand shall hold me. If I say, surely the darkness 
 shall cover me; even tin- niirht shall be light about 
 me; the darkness and the light are both alike 10 
 Thee.' l Thou hast beset me behind and before, 
 and laid Thy hand upon me. Thou understandest 
 my thoughts afar off. Thou eompassest my path 
 and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my 
 
116 THE DEVOUT SPIRIT 
 
 ways. For there is not a word in my tongue, but 
 Thou, O Lord, knowest it altogether.' 
 
 The transition from the omnipresence and omnis- 
 cience, to the care and kindness of GOD, is natural, 
 and the Psalmist does not fail to make it. ' How 
 precious, also, are Thy thoughts unto me, O God ! 
 How great is the sum of them ! If I should count 
 them, they are more in number than the sand.' 
 When I awake, I am still with thee.' 
 
 The language of the text is the language of 
 devotion ; of a soul alive to its dependence upon 
 GOD, and rejoicing in a sense of His presence. It 
 is the language of trust and reliance; of security 
 and humble confidence. It is the language of one 
 who is conscious of his own nearness to GOD, 
 whilst he is sensible that GOD is near. ' When I 
 awake, I am still with thee.' Thy presence ever 
 surrounds me. Thy watchful care is ever ex- 
 tended over me. ' By day Thou dost uphold my 
 steps.' * By night Thou dost watch around my bed. 
 Thou encompassest my path, and my lying down.' 
 I sleep, and Thou dost guard my defenceless head. 
 I awake, and lo ! Thou art still with me. I inhale 
 Thy air, I am cheered by the pleasant light and 
 genial influence of Thy sun. I rejoice again to be, 
 and to be with my Father, my GOD. 
 
 Such is the language of the text. It is the 
 language of every pious mind. My hearers, is it 
 ours ? The presence of GOD at all times surrounds 
 us. Are we sensible of it? do we rejoice in it? 
 The Providence of GOD is ever exercised for our 
 
ALWAYS WITH GOD. 117 
 
 protection and comfort. Do we realize it? Are we 
 grateful for it ? 
 
 We 'go forth to our work, and our labor, till the 
 evening.' We return to rest in the bosom of our 
 family. 
 
 Our neighbor goes forth like ourselves, high in 
 health, elate with hope; but he returns not, like 
 din-elves, to partake of the joys of home. A fatal 
 accident occurs, sudden, unforeseen, and if he 
 returns at all, he returns but to die. The snares of 
 death are always laid. The emissaries of death 
 are ever in ambush. Our neighbor has been 
 insnared and is the victim. We have escaped. 
 My hearers, we escape every day, every moment. 
 Our whole life is but an escape from the innu- 
 merable dangers which surround us. 
 
 At the end of every day's journey, do we erect a 
 monument to the mercy of GOD ? At the close of 
 . day, do we surround the family altar, and 
 oiler the sacrifice of praise? 
 
 Heads of families! I appeal to you. Do you 
 call your family together, and unite with them 
 in thanksgiving? Is there an altar in your house 
 inscribed with the name of Jehovah? Every 
 evening is the wood laid, and the fire kindled, 
 lor the evening sacrifice? 
 
 My hearers of every description! I appeal io 
 you. Does the retirement of the closet, the 
 chamber, witness your evening devotions? Does 
 no day close upon you unsanctified by prayer? Is 
 then; an altar in your hearts, and is the flame always 
 alive and burning? 
 
118 
 
 THE DEVOUT SPIRIT 
 
 By night, as well as by day, we are protected by 
 the watchful providence of GOD. We commit 
 ourselves to sleep, and sleep securely ; for HE, who 
 * never slumbers or sleeps,' has watched over us, 
 and shielded us from harm. 
 
 Our neighbor, like ourselves, has resigned himself 
 to sleep, but not, like us, to awake and inhale the 
 breath of the morning, and see the light, and feel 
 the influence of the sun ! His eyes are closed in a 
 long, long night. He sleeps the sleep of death. 
 The arrow is ever flying by night; the pestilence is 
 ever walking in darkness. Our neighbor has 
 become the victim. We have escaped. Do we 
 open our eyes to raise them in devout thankfulness 
 to heaven ? Do we lift our voices to send them 
 up in songs of praise ? At the beginning 1 of every 
 day do we surround the family altar and offer the 
 morning sacrifice ? 
 
 Heads of families ! I again appeal to you. Do 
 you call your families together and remind them of 
 GOD'S goodness, and unite with them in thanks- 
 giving ? 
 
 Have not your families shared with you in the 
 care of a watchful Providence ? Did you separate, 
 uncertain what would be the issue of a night ? 
 Do you meet again to reciprocate the salutations of 
 a new day, and do you not meet to recognize and 
 acknowledge the goodness and mercy that has 
 preserved and blessed you ? 
 
 My hearers of every description ! I appeal to you. 
 Does the retirement of the morning witness your 
 
ALWAYS WITH GOD. 119 
 
 devotions? Does no day dawn upon you unsanc- 
 tified by prayer? Do you never venture forth to 
 encounter thr hazards that beset your path, without 
 seeking the protection and guidance of an Almighty 
 Protector, and an unerring Guide ? 
 
 When we look forward at the commencement of 
 a new day, all is uncertainty. It is a sealed book, 
 whose pages GOD only can unfold. 
 
 It may be full of the most important and inter- 
 rstiiiij events to us. It may decide our fortunes for 
 time. It may fix our fate through eternity. 
 
 How much may be enjoyed, and ah, how much 
 may be suffered, in a single day! How many 
 bright prospects may be darkened! How many 
 fond expectations disappointed; how many affec- 
 tionate attachments dissolved! How many blos- 
 soms of hope may be withered ; how many 
 buds of promise may be closed forever in this 
 world ! 
 
 A single day has opened a source of joy, or of 
 sorrow, which has continued its streams through 
 life. In one hour, a man has incurred a disgrace 
 which time could never wipe off. In one moment, 
 the thread of life has been broken, and the transi- 
 tion into eternity made. 
 
 How many have entered on a new day with 
 their cup overflowing, and their prospects of futurity 
 clear and unclouded. How often, ere the evening, 
 have the notes of joy been exchanged for the voice 
 of lamentation, and * the garment of praise for the 
 spirit of heaviness ! ' 
 
120 
 
 THE DEVOUT SPIRIT 
 
 Who is there, then, among us, so thoughtless, so 
 unwise, as to enter on the duties, the temptations, 
 the difficulties and dangers of a day, without com- 
 mending himself to GOD ; imploring his protection, 
 assistance, and guidance ? Who is there that will 
 not feel himself compelled by every motive of duty, 
 and of interest, to adopt and practise the resolution 
 of the Psalmist, l My voice shalt thou hear in the 
 morning, O Lord. In the morning will I direct my 
 prayer unto THEE, and will look up.' 
 
 When I awake, 1 am still with THEE.' 
 
 The little child reposes in perfect security on the 
 bosom of its parent. It awakes ; looks up ; finds 
 itself still guarded by a parent's eye; still upheld 
 by a parent's arm ; and quietly resigns itself to sleep 
 again. 
 
 To us, weak and defenceless creatures, that 
 parent's eye, is the eye of GOD. That parent's 
 arm, is the arm of GOD. ' We look up, and find 
 ourselves still with HIM.' 
 
 And are we really with HIM ? Are we with HIM 
 in spirit, in truth ? 
 
 GOD may be with us, our Protector ; our Bene- 
 factor ; and we may be far from HIM. ' The wicked 
 are far from GOD.' 
 
 ' HE maketh his sun to shine, and His rain to 
 descend ' on the evil and the good ; on the thankful 
 and the unthankful; but HE is only nigh, in His 
 favor and love, to those who fear HIM, and l call upon 
 HIM in truth.' We may share in His protection, 
 and be excluded from His favor. Excluded from 
 
ALWAYS WITH GOD. 121 
 
 His favor ! My hearers, in His favor is life ; and 
 His ' loving-kindness is better than life.' Without 
 ii, all is darkness and despair. Destitute of the 
 favor of GOD, we cannot be truly happy; and we 
 cannot possess that favor, if our hearts are not \\ith 
 HIM. 
 
 Let us give HIM our hearts. HE vouchsafes to 
 usk for them. And with how much tenderness ! 
 
 I repeat. Let us give HIM our hearts. Then, in 
 the pilgrimage of life, we shall be secure of the pro- 
 tection and favor of God ; and though we must 
 sleep, and may soon sleep, the sleep of death, 
 
 yet WHEN WE AWAKE, WE SHALL BE STILL WITH HlM. 
 
 VOL. 11. 11 
 
122 
 
 SERMON XIX. 
 
 DAVID THE KING AND PSALMIST OF ISRAEL. 
 
 Samuel i. 13, 14. A MAN AFTER GOD'S OWN HEART. 
 
 THESE words, as you may remember, refer to 
 David, the King and Psalmist of Israel. 
 
 It is of him that it was said that he was ' a man 
 after GOD'S own heart.' 
 
 They are often quoted. Sometimes in testimony 
 of the excellence of David's character; and as an 
 excitement to the cultivation of those dispositions 
 which are supposed to have given him favor in the 
 sight of GOD. 
 
 Sometimes this passage is quoted for a very 
 different purpose. It has furnished a weapon for 
 infidelity to assail the truth of revelation. The 
 apparent inconsistency between some portions of 
 the conduct of David, and the declaration in the 
 text, has been pointed out, and dwelt upon with 
 no little satisfaction. The complicated guilt of 
 David has been brought up to view in all its 
 enormity ; and the question emphatically asked, " Is 
 this the man after GOD'S own heart? Can he 
 
DAVID THE KING AND PSALMIST OF ISRAEL. 123 
 
 who was guilty of such atrocious wickedness, have 
 been regarded with complacency by Infinite Purity 
 and Hob* ness? Did not the bldod of Uriah 'cry 
 from the ground,' and did not the cry come up into 
 the ears of the Eternal ? Vengeance indeed slept, 
 and did not pour out the vials of its wrath upon 
 the devoted head of the offender, but can it be be- 
 lieved, that not mercy only, but love, came in to 
 take its place ? " 
 
 There are no weapons used by infidelity, of what- 
 ever nature, that may not be blunted and rendered 
 harmless by truth and reason. 
 
 If an answer has not been given to these inquiries, 
 it is because no attention has been paid to the time 
 and the circumstances in which the words of the 
 t<-\t were used. It was long before the period to 
 which an allusion has just been made, that David 
 was styled, in relation to GOD, * a man after His 
 own heart? It was when he dwelt in simplicity 
 ;uid humble obscurity in Bethlehem; the keeper 
 of his father's sheep. It was while he was yet a 
 youth, in the house of his parents, unexposed to 
 the dangers of prosperity, and the seductions of 
 power. 
 
 In his external appearance, as it is described in 
 the simple language of Scripture, he was l ruddy, 
 and withal of a beautiful countenance, and goodly 
 to look to,' and we have reason to think that there 
 was a correspondence with this, in the features of 
 his mind. 
 
 If we looked no further, then, for a solution of 
 
124 DAVID THE KING AND PSALMIST OF ISRAEL. 
 
 this difficulty, we might find it here. It might be 
 said of David in the sheepoote, if not of David on 
 the throne, that he was ' a man after GOD'S own 
 heart.' But an attention to the occasion on which 
 these words were used will furnish a satisfactory 
 explanation of them. 
 
 They do not refer to the private virtues of David, 
 but to his public conduct. They stand in opposi- 
 tion to the character of Saul, who is described as 
 acting 'foolishly,' and who was deprived of his 
 kingdom for his disobedience to the commandment 
 of GOD. ' But now,' said the prophet to him, ' thy 
 kingdom shall not continue. The LORD hath sought 
 Him a man after his own heart,' or, as it may be 
 rendered, 'who will perform His will,' 'and the 
 LORD hath commanded him to be captain over this 
 people ; because thou hast not kept that which the 
 LORD commanded thee.' 
 
 Saul was rejected because 'he did not perform 
 the will of GOD,' as king of Israel. David was 
 chosen, or was ' a man after GOD'S own heart,' be- 
 cause he would perform that will. 
 
 And he did s*o. He maintained a strict adhe- 
 rence to the civil and religious laws of his country ; 
 did not permit idolatry ; and in all his .public, offi- 
 cial conduct, acted in accordance with the mind 
 and will of GOD, and was thus a man after His 
 own heart. 
 
 In reference to his private, or personal moral con- 
 duct, the words are never used. They are used 
 only in reference to his conduct as a king; to his 
 
DAVID THE KING AND PSALMIST OF ISRAEL. 125 
 
 moral fitness to carry into effect the peculiar pur- 
 poses of Providence in regard to the Jewish people. 
 
 Having said thus much in vindication of the 
 text, let the moral character of David have been 
 what it might, it is proper for me to remind you, 
 that, great and aggravated as were his transgres- 
 sions, they were expiated by his subsequent repent- 
 ance and holiness. 
 
 He had sinned dreadfully ; but he was dreadfully 
 punished ; and was deeply penitent. His whole life 
 afterwards was little else than a series of troubles ; 
 and, as far as we can judge, was a life of peniten- 
 tial sorrow and humiliation. He went ' mourning 
 all the day long,' and 'watered his couch with his 
 
 His penitence, and his confident reliance upon the 
 goodness and mercy of GOD, are the prominent and 
 most excellent parts of his character. They appear 
 in almost every page of his admirable writings. 
 
 His psalms are the breathings of a truly contrite 
 heart, and have furnished language for contrition, 
 and solace for affliction, in almost every age. David, 
 thankful for GOD'S goodness and mercy ; David, 
 pouring out his soul in the noblest strains of poetry 
 and devotion that have ever been employed to raise 
 the thoughts of the religious, and carry them up 
 to GOD, is a very different man from the David 
 who, in the beautiful language of Nathan's para- 
 ble, had taken away the lamb which the poor man 
 had nourished up; and who added the guilt of 
 murder to his other crimes. He had awakened to a 
 11* 
 
126 DAVID THE KING AND PSALMIST OF ISRAEL. 
 
 full consciousness of his guilt, and the tears of repent- 
 ance had washed it away. He might now be re- 
 garded with approbation and favor. As the Psalm- 
 ist of Israel, he is holy. He who finds his heart 
 kindled into the warmth and fervor of piety as he 
 reads the Psalms, feels that their author is holy; 
 that it is from the ' abundance of the heart that the 
 heart has indited.' 
 
 In the passage we have been considering, we 
 have an instance, and such instances are of fre- 
 quent occurrence, of a single, isolated text pre- 
 senting difficulties which an attention to the context, 
 and the time and circumstances with which it was 
 connected, would entirely remove. 
 
 The selection of David to be king of Israel, and 
 the rejection of the house of Saul, are a striking 
 illustration of the importance of obedience to the 
 commands of GOD. ' Behold to obey is better 
 than sacrifice. Because thou hast rejected the word 
 of the Lord, and hast not kept the commandment 
 of the Lord, which He commanded thee, HE hath 
 also rejected thee from being king.' 
 
 The fall and the penitence of David, are alike 
 instructive to us, the danger of prosperity and 
 elevation, and the efficacy of repentance. In the 
 faithful admonition of the prophet to the king, we 
 are reminded that as no such messenger will come 
 to us as came to him, we have within us a monitor 
 which, if it be not .stifled or seared, will, on every 
 occasion, tell us honestly ' Thou art the man ! ' To 
 this monitor, enlightened as it should be, by the 
 
DAVID THE KINO AND PSALMIST OF ISRAEL. 127 
 
 word of GOD, let us at all times listen ; and may 
 GOD give us grace to attend to its warning voice ; 
 so that if we have wandered, we may be recalled 
 to the path of duty, and be reconciled through re- 
 pentance, and the mediation of Jesus Christ, to 
 the mercy of GOD. 
 
128 
 
 SERMON XX. 
 
 THE HIDDEN LIFE OF A CHRISTIAN. 
 Colossians iii. 3. YOUR LIFE is HID. 
 
 THE hidden life of a Christian is his spiritual 
 life ; the life in which he is devoted to GOD ; to the 
 purposes of heaven and eternity. It is the same 
 which, in some parts of Scripture, is called * eter- 
 nal,' for it survives the animal life, and, with the 
 immortal spirit, retains its vitality forever. Like 
 the animal life, it is the same principle in its infancy 
 and its maturity ; but, unlike that, its infancy is on 
 earth, and its maturity in heaven. 
 
 Thus, the spiritual life is eternal life commenced | 
 and eternal life is the spiritual life perfected. 
 
 1. It is hidden because its existence is in the 
 heart. The springs by which it is moved, the prin- 
 ciples and motives by which it is animated, are 
 concealed from view;: from the view of all but 
 HIM in whom it is said to be hidden ; who is its 
 source, and the only witness of its sincerity. 
 
 Further. It is hidden, because the means by which 
 it is chiefly sustained and invigorated are concealed 
 from view. The objects on which it fixes its atten- 
 
THE HIDDEN LIFE OF A CHRISTIAN. 129 
 
 tion, and from which it draws its nourishment, are 
 invisible. GOD the Author of the spiritual life, 
 the Source of its strength and happiness, is invi>i- 
 ble. Faith fixes its view upon HIM, and discerns 
 his perfections ; but * mortal eye hath not seen, nor 
 can see HIM.' CHRIST, 'the Author and finisher 
 of its faith/ is invisible. THE HOLY SPIRIT, that 
 Divine Influence which operates on the heart, is 
 invisible. The influence is felt, but is visible only 
 in the effects. Angels, and the spirits of the just 
 made perfect, after whose intercourse it aspires; 
 the good, whom it knew, and loved and honored 
 on earth, but who live on earth only in the remem- 
 brance, are invisible ; and the hope of a reunion is 
 one of the instruments by which the spiritual life is 
 sustained. Heaven, the end of its wishes, the frui- 
 tion of its hopes, is invisible. ' Eye hath not seen, 
 nor ear heard, nor hath the heart of man conceived, 
 the joys which GOD hath prepared for them that 
 love HIM.' 
 
 The acts and exercises, by which the spiritual life 
 is maintained, are concealed from view. The self- 
 communion by which the Christian enters into the 
 secret chambers of the heart ; meditation, by which 
 he contemplates earth and heaven, 'the things 
 that are seen, and the things that are not seen;' 
 reading, the study of that word whose 'entrance 
 irivcth life;' prayer, without which the principle of 
 holiness cannot subsist; without which the Chris- 
 tian life must languish and die. All these are secret, 
 hidden from public observation, and in the use of 
 these, the life of a Christian is a hidden life. 
 
130 THE HIDDEN LIFE OF A CHRISTIAN. 
 
 Secret and hidden, too, are the struggles which a 
 Christian has when inclination is opposed to duty ; 
 the conflict in which he is perpetually engaged with 
 the world and sin. 
 
 Further. The spiritual life may be said to be 
 1 hidden ' even when it is visible, because jt is unos- 
 tentatious and unobtrusive. It is 'clothed with 
 humility,' seeks not to attract notice, but rather 
 shuns it; does not desire 'to be seen of men,' 
 except in as far as its influence may be useful ; and 
 is satisfied, if it is only seen of its GOD. 
 
 It is in these respects, among others, that 
 the spiritual life is hidden, viz., Its existence is in 
 the heart from which i are the issues of life.' The 
 means by which it is . sustained, the objects of its 
 devout contemplation, and the exercises in which 
 it engages, are concealed and hidden. It is unos- 
 tentatious; and rather retires from public observa- 
 tion than courts it. It is hidden, in some sense, as 
 it pursues its even course, fulfilling in silence its 
 appropriate duties ; diffusing around it the tranquil- 
 lity and peace which itself enjoys. It is in some 
 sense hidden, as in the parent or child, the brother 
 or sister, the wife or mother, in the retirement of 
 domestic life, it is faithful to the calls of duty, with 
 no other motive than the approbation of conscience 
 and of GOD. And yet it is not hidden, for there 
 are those who mark it, and pay it the homage 
 which is due to its modest worth. There are hearts 
 which feel its value, and yield it the tribute of warm 
 affection. The circle in which its labors of love 
 
THE HIDDEN LIFE OF A CHRISTIAN. 131 
 
 and duty are performed, which it has enlightened, 
 and cheered, and made better, by its influence, 
 acknowledges and blesses that influence as it enjoys 
 its benefits. 
 
 Lastly. In the hour of dissolution, when death 
 is performing its work, its sad work, of destruc- 
 tion, and is obtaining the victory over the animal 
 life, the frail and mortal body, the spiritual life 
 is hidden. 
 
 It may be hidden by the veil which death is 
 drawing over the senses, and if not, the world is 
 shut out, and comes not in to disturb 'the holy 
 quiet that reigns within.' But yet, even here, it is 
 not hidden. There are those who have gathered 
 round the bed of death, as they smoothed the bed 
 of sickness, and whose privilege it is to behold 
 the patience and pious resignation of the meek 
 spirit that bows to drink the cup which may not 
 pass ; to witness the triumph of life over death ; of 
 the undying soul welcoming the 'king of terrors' 
 as a messenger of peace ; and, as heaven opens on 
 its view, adopting the exulting exclamation of the 
 apostle, ' O death, where is thy sting ? O grave, 
 where is thy victory ? ' And now, indeed, it is hid- 
 (ln. It is invisible as the GOD whom it adored, 
 and with whom it has gone to dwell. It is invisi- 
 ble as the Saviour whom it loved and followed. It 
 is invisible as that company of the blessed to whose 
 intercourse it had often looked forward with ardent 
 expectation. It is invisible as the heaven on which 
 the eye of its faith had long been fixed, and of the 
 
132 THE HIDDEN LIFE OF A CHRISTIAN. 
 
 fulness of whose joy it now partakes. * A cloud 
 has received it out of sight.' It can never live on 
 earth again, but in the memory of those who loved 
 it here, and in the hearts and lives of those who 
 were blessed and benefited by its labors, its exam- 
 ple and its prayers. There may it ever live, enjoy- 
 ing on earth and in heaven the same recompense of 
 reward ! 
 
133 
 
 SERMON XXI. 
 
 A GOOD MAN. 
 
 A CHARACTER.* 
 
 (Concluding part of a Sermon.] 
 ActS i'l. 24. BARNABAS WAS A GOOD MAN. 
 
 IN the early history of Christianity we have many 
 illustrations, beside the one I have now described to 
 you, of its benign influence in the lives of its pro- 
 fessors. 
 
 They furnish a powerful attestation to its truth 
 in the exhibition they give of its efficacy. 
 
 The tree is known by its fruit; and no better 
 evidence can be desired of the truth of our religion 
 than is found in its effects where it has been sin- 
 cerely and heartily received. When it has stamped 
 upon the character the image of its own loveliness, 
 they must be blind, indeed, who do not perceive 
 that the portraiture is divine. 
 
 A character so excellent as that of him whom my 
 text commemorates, is comparatively rare ; but there 
 are those, in all times, whose privilege it is to pos- 
 
 * Isaac Smith, A. M. 
 VOL. ii. 12 
 
134 
 
 A GOOD MAN. 
 
 sess much of that fulness of the Holy Ghost, and 
 of faith, which he enjoyed. 
 
 They seem to have been given, that there might 
 not be wanting, in any period, an exhibition of the 
 best influences of Christian truth. 
 
 They are lights in the world, burning with a pure 
 and steady flame, and diffusing around them the 
 mild lustre of Christian virtue. They are the salt 
 of the earth, preserving in its purity ' the faith once 
 delivered to the saints,' amidst the corruptions of a 
 sinful world. We have seen them reflecting the 
 light of their example in every condition of life. 
 
 I should do violence to my own feelings, and in- 
 justice to the living and the dead, if I did not say 
 that, in my belief, it has been our privilege, for a 
 series of years, to mingle our prayers, in this place, 
 with the prayers of as pure and devout a spirit as, 
 since the days of the apostles, has breathed a prayer 
 to heaven. 
 
 I have known many good men. I have never 
 known a better man than that revered and beloved 
 servant of GOD who was accustomed to worship 
 with us here, but has now gone to worship with 
 the spirits of the just made perfect. 
 
 It is due to him as a minister of religion ; it is 
 due to him as having often officiated at this altar ; 
 it is due to him as one of the purest and best of 
 beings ; that the praise should be spoken now which 
 his modesty would have shrunk from hearing, but 
 which, even in his humility, he was constantly utter- 
 ing in the emphatic language of a spotless life. 
 
A GOOD MAN. 
 
 135 
 
 I have been intimately conversant with him for 
 in;tny years, and more especially since he became 
 a member of this parish ; and at no time have I 
 seen in hi in a deviation, in word or action, from 
 that strict propriety of conduct which became the 
 sacred office. 
 
 Then 1 was a singleness of heart; a refinement 
 and delicacy of sentiment; a tenderness and gentle- 
 ness of spirit ; a beautiful simplicity and uniformity 
 of deportment, which conciliated the regard of all 
 who kne\vhim; and rendered him an object of 
 peculiar interest and affection to those who enjoyed 
 his friendship. 
 
 With a mind enriched by reading and observation, 
 the study of books and of men, his conversation was 
 in a hiiih degree entertaining and instructive. 
 
 Retaining to the last much of his youthful feel- 
 ings, and adapting himself most readily, as he 
 delighted to do, to the feelings of the young, he 
 did not fail to find his way to their hearts. 
 
 The experience of my own domestic circle can 
 testify how much he endeared himself by .these 
 trails of character to which I have referred; how 
 fondly his visits were welcomed, and how sincere 
 was the regret when they were terminated. 
 
 In these days of theological contention, when 
 Christians, in their zeal for their systems, so often 
 lose the spirit of religion, he pursued his peaceful 
 way; expressing, indeed, now and then, as far as 
 his in -mle spirit would allow, his disapprobation of 
 bigotry and uncharitableness, but breathing kind- 
 ness and good-will to all. 
 
136 
 
 A GOOD MAN. 
 
 In early life, after having held an important office 
 in our university, he went abroad, and was led by 
 circumstances to take the charge of a small congre- 
 gation at Sidmouth, in England ; where he was 
 much beloved, and his intercourse sought and valued 
 by the neighboring clergy of all denominations, some 
 of whom were among the most eminent men of 
 their day, and by the most respectable among the 
 laity. 
 
 He was in the vicinity of a considerable city ; 
 and the town in which he lived was a watering- 
 place, and much frequented. 
 
 He is still remembered there by the few who re- 
 main, after the lapse of half a century, with lively 
 and affectionate interest. 
 
 On his return to his native country, he received 
 a second appointment at the college, and was after- 
 wards, successively, the head of an ancient seminary 
 of learning, and the minister at the alms-house in 
 this city. 
 
 He lived without reproach, honored and beloved. 
 Calumny had not breathed upon his reputation, 
 but all united in the testimony that < in him there 
 was no guile.' 
 
 His last days were soothed by the unwearied 
 kindness of thosp to whom he was most nearly re- 
 lated, and who deemed it a privilege to minister to 
 his comfort ; to watch over him in the season of his 
 decay, to smooth his dying pillow, and close his eyes 
 in death. 
 
 But more dear to him than the tender assiduities 
 
A GOOD MAN. 137 
 
 of affection were the sustaining promises and hopes 
 of religion. 
 
 When I quoted to him some of those delightful 
 passages which, for so many ages, have calmed the 
 apprehensions and mingled with the aspirations of 
 the devout spirit, with much emphasis he would 
 say, * They are very precious.' ' There are a thou- 
 sand such.' < The Bible is full of them.' 
 
 It was my privilege to hold with him the last 
 conversation he was permitted to hold on earth, 
 and to witness, as indeed I had often done, * with 
 what composure a Christian can die.' 
 
 It had been said of him long since, by one who 
 knew him well, and it was hardly extravagant to 
 say so, that he wanted i only wings, to ascend to 
 heaven/ 
 
 His disembodied spirit has been borne up, on 
 angels' wings, to that blessed abode, and may now 
 soar unfettered towards the Source of its blessed- 
 ness, and fly unrestrained on its errands of love and 
 mercy. 
 
 May the contemplation of the character of this 
 good man excite in us, with whom he has sus- 
 tained so near a connection, a holy emulation. 
 
 Whilst we look up, by faith, to mark his ascend- 
 ing flight, may his spirit, as did that of the prophet 
 on Elisha, descend and rest upon us! 
 
138 
 
 SERMON XXII 
 
 THE BENEDICTION OF THE SAVIOUR ON A WOMAN OF 
 JUDEA j AND A TRIBUTE TO WOMAN'S WORTHINESS. 
 
 Matthew xxvi. 13. WHERESOEVER THIS GOSPEL SHALL BE PREACH- 
 ED IN THE WHOLE WORLD, THERE SHALL ALSO THIS WHICH THIS 
 WOMAN HAS DONE, BE TOLD AS A MEMORIAL OF HER. 
 
 THE history of the transaction referred to in the 
 text, as recorded in the Gospels, is briefly this : 
 
 As Jesus sat at meat in a house at Bethany, 
 there came a woman with an alabaster box. of very 
 precious ointment, and in token of her reverence 
 and affection, a mode of expressing it common 
 at the time, poured it upon his head ; and anoint- 
 ed his feet with the ointment. Her tears fell on 
 his feet, and she wiped them away with the hair of 
 her head. 
 
 Some of the guests, among them the traitor 
 disciple who afterwards, for a paltry consideration, 
 betrayed his Master, were offended at what ap- 
 peared to them an extravagance, saying, i Why 
 was this waste of the ointment made ? It might 
 have been sold for three hundred pence, and given 
 to the poor.' Jesus, ever considerate and kind, 
 
A TRIBUTE TO WOMAN'S WORTHINESS. 139 
 
 vindicated her conduct. 'Why trouble ye the 
 woman ? She hath wrought a good work on me. 
 The poor ye have always with you, and when ye 
 will, ye can do iliem good. But me ye have not 
 al way. Verily I say unto you, wheresoever this 
 gospel shall be preached in the whole world, there 
 shall this which this woman has done, be told as a 
 memorial of her.' 
 
 This day, my hearers, is this Scripture fulfilled in 
 our ears. It will be fulfilled in the ears of unnum- 
 bered generations in distant ages. The guest, to 
 whom this honor was done, was the Son of GOD. 
 The gospel which has recorded it, is the gospel of 
 GOD ; and as surely as this gospel ' shall have free 
 course/ and be preached throughout the world, so 
 surely shall this prophetic declaration be verified. 
 so surely shall ' this which this woman hath done, 
 be told as a memorial of her.' 
 
 Nor is this all. Her record is on high. ' This that 
 she hath done,' is written in 'the book of GOD'S 
 remembrance; ' and when the judgment is set, and 
 the books are opened before the throne of GOD, this 
 deed that she hath done will be told of her before 
 an assembled universe; and the guest to whom her 
 humble tribute of affection and gratitude was paid 
 at an obscure house in a small village of Judea, 
 now seated at the right hand of the throne, will 
 again pronounce a benediction upon her. 
 
 My hearers, I have related to you an instance of 
 honorable conduct in a woman of. Judea. It is but 
 an exhibition of the character of her sex. It is but 
 
140 THE BENEDICTION OF THE SAVIOUR J 
 
 one of innumerable instances of conduct which 
 confer honor on woman, recorded in the annals of 
 humanity. 
 
 It was for that sex, fervently and unwaveringly, 
 to manifest their reverence and affection for the Sa- 
 viour of mankind through the whole of his life on 
 earth. No dangers affrighted them. No difficul- 
 ties discouraged them. 
 
 It was in his adversity, indeed, that their affec- 
 tion was most strikingly and emphatically mani- 
 fested. When his path was darkest, they did not 
 fear to tread in it. When the storm raged most 
 violently, they did not shrink from exposing their 
 unsheltered heads to the tempest. 
 
 One, only, of his disciples returned from flight, to 
 be with him in the closing scene of life. And how 
 richly was he repaid in receiving the sacred trust 
 bequeathed by filial piety in words that should 
 sink deep into the heart of every child ! ' Behold 
 thy mother ! ' 
 
 But, when his faint-hearted disciples forsook 
 him and fled, when they were ' scattered every 
 one to his own,' as Jesus had predicted, women 
 followed him, weeping, to the place of crucifixion. 
 Nor was this all. As they were found at the 
 cross, so, with a 'love stronger than death,' they 
 were found, also, ' very early in the morning at the 
 sepulchre, with spices and ointments to embalm 
 him.' 
 
 In all times ; in savage and in civilized society ; 
 the same noble, generous, humane, self-sacrificing 
 
fll 
 
 qualities have been manifested by them. In ac- 
 tive duty, as well as in passive suffering, there is a 
 patience and fortitude, a resolution and energy, 
 drriviiiir strength from pressure, for which we 
 look in vain in the stronger sex. 
 
 I have sometimes heard that sex speak slight- 
 ingly of woman. If they are sincere, I pity them. 
 J)o they forget the mother who nursed their infan- 
 cy, and watched over them in health and sickness, 
 hy day and niirht. \\ith a love and care which a 
 mother only could know? Or the sister, whose 
 pure and simple affection contributes so much to 
 render home attractive and delightful ; or the holy 
 love of a daughter in the care of aged, helpless pa- 
 rents ; or the faithful constancy and attachment of 
 a wife amidst the broken fortunes, broken health, 
 and broken reputation of her husband ; sustaining 
 those arms that, perhaps, had been raised to smite 
 IHT. and moistening the parched lips that had been 
 opened to curse her .' 
 
 Wherever woman is found, she is an angel of 
 mercy; following the kind, sympathizing impulses 
 of her nature, to the shame, too often, of the cold, 
 calculating charity of man. 
 
 It is worthy of notice that the only four pecu- 
 niary bequests to this parish, of which I have 
 information, are the testimonials of female piety. 
 One of them, to ihe poor, from her whom all re- 
 member as distinguished Tor all that is dignified 
 and lovely in the female character.* Another from 
 
 * Mrs, Eliot. 
 
142 THE BENEDICTION OF THE SAVIOUR ; 
 
 that venerated woman whose recent death has left 
 us poorer than her devise can compensate, by the 
 loss of her example. 
 
 It is by the request of the standing committee 
 of the parish, that I announce to-day, in public, 
 what has already been privately circulated, that 
 Mrs. Elizabeth Derby, in addition to numerous 
 other benefactions, has bequeathed to the Sunday 
 School connected with the parish, seven hundred 
 dollars, the interest to be appropriated towards the 
 support of the school ; seven hundred dollars, the 
 interest to be devoted to the relief of the aged poor 
 in the parish ; and five thousand dollars, the inte- 
 rest to be expended in such a manner as the exi- 
 gencies of the parish may demand. 
 
 The ancestors of Mrs. Derby were members of 
 the parish at its formation. Here her fathers wor- 
 shipped. Here she was herself consecrated to GOD 
 in baptism, administered by Mayhew, who stands 
 in the foremost rank among the departed ministers 
 of our country. Here, during the ministry of the 
 judicious and benevolent Howard, she first ful- 
 filled her baptismal obligation to commemorate her 
 Saviour ; and here, when the Providence of GOD 
 permitted, she statedly and devoutly paid her vows 
 in the morning and evening service. 
 
 She ' loved the habitation of GOD'S house.' She 
 loved this house. It was associated with her dear- 
 est recollections, and she had no wish to wan- 
 der from it. Here, and here only, on the returning 
 Sabbath, she felt it her duty and her privilege to 
 
143 
 
 unite with her fellow Christians in Christian wor- 
 ship. 
 
 Nor was her fidelity to duty confined to a regular 
 and devout observance of the institutions of reli- 
 gion. It pervaded her whole Life, and was exhib- 
 ited in all her conduct. 
 
 As a wife, how affectionate and devoted ! ' The 
 heart of her husband did safely trust in her.* De- 
 prived of his sight during a great part of the last 
 years of his life, her tenderness and watchful care 
 wen- peculiarly needful to him; and they were 
 faithfully and assiduously bestowed. She was his 
 constant companion, watching him, and guiding 
 his footsteps ; leaving him only, for brief periods, to 
 perform acts of friendship or mercy. She strictly 
 complied with the apostolic injunction to the mar- 
 ried of her sex, to be ' keepers at home.' 
 
 When her husband was translated to a world 
 where the inhabitant ' shall not say, I am sick,' 
 she had leisure for more active and diffusive benefi- 
 cence, and did not fail to improve it. Her ample 
 fortune enabled her to gratify the wishes of her 
 heart in benefactions to the poor. She gave only 
 what belonged to her, and what, therefore, she 
 had a right to give. She gave judiciously, and, 
 therefore, not indiscriminately nor without in 
 gallon. 
 
 As far as her attention to domestic duties, 
 which she never neglected, would permit, she 
 rendered her personal services to such of our public 
 charitable institutions as it was appropriate for her 
 
144 THE BENEDICTION OF THE SAVIOUR', 
 
 thus to aid. She was in the government of one 
 of the most useful and interesting of them for seve- 
 ral years ; and, from her good judgment and ex- 
 perience, her cooperation and counsel were much 
 valued. 
 
 This excellent woman has passed away. She 
 can no longer ' go about doing good.' She can no 
 longer join with us in worship in this house of our 
 solemnities, which she loved so well. But she has 
 gone to join with the blessed in the worship of 
 *a temple not made with hands, eternal in the 
 heavens.' 
 
 Whilst we call up her virtues to remembrance, 
 may her example of fidelity, hallowed as it now is 
 by her death, be diligently followed out in our 
 lives ! 
 
 I have felt that it was demanded of me, in no- 
 ticing so considerable a benefaction to us, to 
 dwell thus much upon the character of our bene- 
 factress. 
 
 In the present flourishing state of the parish, 
 there was no pressing demand for this legacy. But 
 who can tell what shall be on the morrow ? And, 
 even now, there are important objects to which it 
 may be usefully devoted. Respecting the mode 
 of appropriation, I have no anxiety. I only desire, 
 and the experience of the past warrants me in 
 expecting it, that no difference of opinion on this 
 subject, may interrupt our harmony ; that this, 
 which was designed as a blessing, may not prove a 
 root of bitterness ; that the minority will readily 
 
14") 
 
 yield to the majority, as, on all questions heretofore, 
 they have done; and I hat \ve, and those who come 
 al'tor us, in all future time, as it has been in the 
 past, may fully realize ' how good and pleasant it 
 is for brethren to dwell together in unity/ 
 
 VOL. II. 13 
 
146 
 
 SERMON XXIII. 
 
 SUBMISSION. 
 
 Job 1. 21. THE LORD GAVE AND THE LOED HATH TAKEN AWAY. 
 BLESSED BE THE NAME OF THE LORD ! 
 
 THE language of the text is not less the language 
 of reason than of piety. 
 
 It recognizes GOD as the Author of our blessings ; 
 intimates His right to dispose of them as He pleases ; 
 and adores Him, both in His giving and taking 
 away. 
 
 He who uttered these words is presented to us as 
 an instance of accumulated sufferings ; and as an 
 example of patient acquiescence. 
 
 Three successive messengers, and in rapid succes- 
 sion, informed him of the loss of his property ; but it 
 was not till the fourth came, and mingled in his 
 cup the bitterest ingredient, bringing him the tidings 
 of the death of his children, that he gave vent to 
 his feelings. 
 
 He then * opened his mouth ; ' but not to com- 
 plain. ' The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken 
 away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.' 
 
 The Lord gave. He does not forget, in the 
 midst of his sorrows, to acknowledge the goodness 
 
SUBMISSION. 147 
 
 of GOD in having bestowed the blessings he had 
 lost. 
 
 All his happiness in the enjoyment of them, all 
 his anticipations of comfort in their continued pos- 
 session, we may suppose came up to his mind, and 
 furnished a subject of grateful recollection. 
 
 * If I have had larger possessions than all the 
 men of the East; if I have been the father of a 
 numerous family ; the object of respect and defer- 
 ence to the aged and to the young ; if the voice of 
 health and joy has been heard in my dwelling, and, 
 till now, no cloud has come over to darken the sun 
 of my prosperity, it is GOD who has made me thus 
 to differ from others ; and though I am now stripped 
 of all, I will not forget His past goodness, nor refuse 
 to adore it.' 
 
 The Lord hath taken away. 
 
 In recognizing GOD as the source of his blessings, 
 it was his privilege and comfort to discern the same 
 Bring as the author of his calamities. The Sa- 
 beans and the Chaldeans had carried away his 
 flocks; fire had burnt up his substance; and a 
 wind from the wilderness had overthrown the house 
 in which his children were assembled, and had de- 
 stroyed them all. Yet he looked not to the enemy, 
 the fire, or the tempest as the source of his misfor- 
 tunes. He considered these as but instruments in 
 the hands of Him * whose kingdom ruleth over all,' 
 and ascending from second causes to the first Cause 
 of all things, devoutly exclaimed 'the Lord hath 
 taken away!' 
 
148 
 
 SUBMISSION. 
 
 ' The same hand which bestowed my blessings 
 hath removed them. I rejoice that I am not obliged 
 to ascribe to chance or accident the evils that have 
 befallen me. They have the same origin with my 
 mercies. They are the appointments of Infinite 
 Wisdom. They come from GOD. Blessed be the 
 name of the Lord.' 
 
 Jt was no ordinary effort to maintain his firmness 
 under the pressure of sudden and aggravated ca- 
 lamity. It was a great effort to bend with submis- 
 sion to the stroke. But how sublime the spectacle 
 of this good man lifting his eyes to heaven in 
 devout thankfulness, and blessing the hand that 
 corrected him. Blessed be the name of the Lord. 
 
 ' I bless God,' so we may interpret this lan- 
 guage, 'for what I have possessed, and that I 
 possessed it so long. I bless GOD that the expe- 
 rience of His past goodness affords me the fullest 
 evidence that He is still good to me ; and that it is 
 in mercy He afflicts me. I bless GOD that, whilst I 
 am stript of every earthly comfort, I am allowed to 
 repose myself on Him, and to find in Him a sup- 
 ply for my loss. I bless GOD,' may we not sup- 
 pose that he, even though a bereaved father, 
 could say, * I bless GOD for the lesson He is giving 
 me in this stroke, of the frailty and instability of 
 my possessions.' 
 
 Such was the spirit of the patriarch whose pious 
 ejaculation has been the guide of our reflections. 
 He could not only be patient, but resigned, not only 
 resigned, but thankful. Nor was his patience, his 
 
SUBMISSION. 149 
 
 submission, the result of insensibility. If he bore 
 his trials like a saint, he felt as a man. The feel- 
 ings of nature are continually bursting forth through 
 the whole of the book which contains his history, 
 and they are restrained and regulated by pious 
 trust. 
 
 Through a succession of many ages has Ihis 
 example descended to be the pattern and the guide 
 of all who are in trouble. It becomes us to copy, if 
 we may not reach it. 
 
 A 111 ict ion now, as then, is the lot of man. How- 
 ever fair and bright may be the visions of childhood 
 and youth, they must vanish before the sober and 
 sad realities of mature age. 
 
 GOD has given us kind affections ; they are the 
 source of the purest and highest enjoyment; but, 
 sooner or later, they are destined to be the source 
 of the bitterest anguish. 
 
 The objects on which they are placed prove un- 
 worthy of them; or they are taken away, and the 
 heart must bleed. 
 
 But I will not enlarge. I dare not trust myself 
 on this theme. I have no desire to excite your 
 feelings by indulging my own. 
 
 If I have sympathized with you in your seasons 
 of trouble, so I am assured of your sympathy in 
 my own affliction. 
 
 Having now a deeper fellow-feeling, than ever, of 
 your sorrow, I may be better able to minister to 
 your consolation. Experiencing, as I humbly trust 
 I do, the supports of that religion which it is rny 
 
 13* 
 
150 
 
 SUBMISSION. 
 
 office to teach, I may, with the more confidence, 
 present to you those comforts with which, I 
 would humbly say, i I myself am comforted 
 of GOD.' 
 
 My confidence in the wisdom and rectitude of 
 the Divine administration, is unshaken. 
 
 My belief in the resurrection of Jesus Christ, and 
 in the promises of his gospel, is the anchor of my 
 hope, and the source of my consolation. 
 
 I have a firm conviction that ' it is good to be 
 afflicted.' i Whom the Lord loveth, HE chasteneth.' 
 Not for his pleasure, but for our profit; that we 
 may be partakers of His holiness. 
 
 Welcome, then, chastening, if thou art a proof 
 of the love of my GOD ! Welcome thou kind, be- 
 nevolent messenger of a most kind and benevolent 
 Parent ! Though thy countenance be frowning, thy 
 message is peaceful. Though thou comest to inter- 
 rupt my security, and disturb my peace, thou art 
 the harbinger, if meekly received, and rightly 
 used, of more lasting security; of uninterrupted 
 and eternal joy. 
 
 I am willing to leave myself in the hands of GOD ; 
 assured that my best interests are safe in His hands ; 
 that He will not afflict me more than is needful for 
 me; and trusting that he will give me grace, in 
 every bereavement, to say, ' THE LORD GAVE AND 
 
 THE LORD HATH TAKEN AWAY. BLESSED BE THE 
 NAME OF THE LORD!' 
 
SERMON XXIV. 
 
 Till: DIVINE DISPENSATIONS NOT TO BE QUESTIONED, 
 BUT SUBMITTED TO AND IMPROVED.* 
 
 Job il. 12. BEIIOLD, HE TAKETII AW AT, AND WIIO CAN HINDER HIM ? 
 
 WERE I allowed to follow the impulse of my 
 feelings, I would banish from this place all associa- 
 tions that are sad and gloomy, and cause it ever to 
 resound with the notes of joy. 
 
 1 would conic hither to speak only of scenes 
 of unmixed happiness; and to call for a tribute of 
 grateful pra; 
 
 IJut He who doeth His pleasure in heaven and 
 on earth, and who is infinitely wise and good, has 
 ordered otherwise. The providence of GOD forbids 
 it. 
 
 In the cup of life there are many bitter ingre- 
 dients. 
 
 * There is an allusion in this sermon to a distressing catas- 
 trophe which had just taken place. 
 
 ling lady, the wife of one parishioner, and daughter of 
 another, in a storm at sea, was awept from the vessel by the winds 
 into the ocean, and perished in the sight of her agonized husband, 
 who was unable to make an effort for her rescue. 
 
152 THE DIVINE DISPENSATIONS 
 
 From the day we are born, till the day we die, 
 there is an invariable mixture of joy and sorrow. 
 Blessing and trials, prosperity and adversity, pleas- 
 ure and pain, succeed each other as surely, though 
 not as regularly, as the return of day and night, 
 summer and winter ; and, like the confines of day 
 and night, summer and winter, insensibly slide 
 into each other. GOD hath joined them, and we 
 cannot put them assunder. 
 
 I look round upon this congregation, and my eye 
 can scarcely rest upon a single family into which 
 sorrow in some shape or other has not found ad- 
 mission. 
 
 I appeal to the experience of you all. 
 
 I behold many of you toiling, with unwearied 
 diligence, for the riches, or the honors, or the 
 enjoyments of the world. 
 
 I witness your ardor, your perseverence, your 
 confidence. 
 
 I hear you laying your plans ; boasting of their 
 wisdom ; declaring your assurance of their success ; 
 calculating your profits and emoluments. 
 
 Suddenly, a cloud appears which darkens your 
 prospects ; a tempest arises which sweeps away 
 your hopes, and destroys your confidence. 
 
 Again, I behold you in the midst of your 
 families; loving and beloved by them. I rejoice 
 that your mountain appears to ; stand so strong ; ' 
 and that there is no reason to believe < it will soon 
 be moved.' I come again and again ; and the wel- 
 coming voice is the voice of gladness. 
 
NOT TO BE QUESTIONED, ETC. 153 
 
 Sickness approaches, and damps your joy; or 
 death unexpectedly enters, reverses the scene, and 
 changes your joy into mourning. 
 
 The world is full of uncertainties. Its best sat- 
 isfactions are neither substantial nor permanent. 
 For a while we dream of happiness, but often awake 
 and find it an illusion. 
 
 I have been accustomed, whilst I witnessed your 
 afllietions, to do what I was able for their relief; 
 and when you came hither to ' humble yourselves 
 under the hand of Almighty GOD,' to tender you 
 the consolations which His Word has provided for 
 you. 
 
 Topics of consolation, at such times, are pecu- 
 liarly grateful. Topics of a different character are 
 harsh and unwelcome. 
 
 Nor will you do your minister the injustice 
 to believe that he could readily turn his thoughts to 
 other subjects under such circumstances as these. 
 
 ft is for him to mingle closely in your domestic 
 griefs, as well as joys ; to witness * the hope deferred 
 that maketh the heart sick,' in the case of dying, or 
 the expectation of absent friends ; and to witness, 
 too, the extinction of that hope, in the sad, over- 
 whelming certainty, that they will never recover; 
 and never, never, return again. 
 
 Called to witness, and to share in, yes, largely 
 to share in, the grief of such scenes as these; 
 whilst they weigh down his heart, they dwell in his 
 mind, and must deeply tinge the current of thought, 
 when he is preparing for the service of the sanc- 
 tuary. 
 
154 THE DIVINE DISPENSATIONS 
 
 It is well that it is so. Such topics, whilst they 
 bring consolation to the hearts of the mourners, are 
 not without their use to all. 
 
 They serve to fortify the mind against the 
 night of affliction which must descend upon every 
 one. 
 
 They excite sympathetic emotions towards those 
 to whom they are more particularly addressed. 
 
 They bring into closer union the members of a 
 religious society, by the reflections on each other's 
 condition which they occasion, and the feelings of 
 sympathy they excite. They tend to awaken us 
 to a sense of our own condition as dependent, 
 mortal beings. 
 
 Having made these prefatory remarks, which I 
 trust are not inappropriate or useless, I proceed to 
 the more immediate subject of my discourse. 
 
 BEHOLD, HE TAKETH AWAY; AND WHO CAN HINDER 
 HlM? WHO CAN SAY UNTO HlM, WHAT DOEST 
 THOU? 
 
 Religion is not satisfied with directing our atten- 
 tion to second causes. It leads us above them to 
 the GREAT FIRST CAUSE of all things. 
 
 It conducts us to that Infinite BEING who, from 
 His exalted throne in the heavens, directs the 
 affairs of this vast universe ; who determines in His 
 wisdom the succession of events; who discerns 
 and adopts the fittest means to accomplish the best 
 ends ; who ' forms the light, and creates darkness ; ' 
 ' who makes peace, and creates evil ; ' and who 
 would always appear to us ' most wise in counsel, 
 
NOT TO BE QUESTIONED, ETC. 155 
 
 and most excellent in working,' if our feeble under- 
 standings could comprehend the design and reason 
 of His operations. 
 
 It conducts us to GOD : and presents Him to us 
 under the mild aspect of a Father, always mindful 
 of our happiness; and who has given us so many 
 proofs of this in nature, providence, and grace, as 
 to merit our entire confidence, and unreserved 
 submission. 
 
 We have abundant need of the consolation which 
 religion thus affords; and I know not any other 
 source from whence light and comfort could be 
 drawn amidst the evils of our condition on earth. 
 
 I see and feel that we are the heirs of sorrow. I 
 find in the revelation which religion has made to 
 me, of the being, perfections, and providence of 
 GOD, the design and end of affliction. 
 
 I see and feel that there is much in the present 
 state of things to perplex the understanding, as \\ < 11 
 as to wound the heart. I find in the revelation 
 which religion has made to me another and better 
 world, where my perplexities will be resolved, and 
 my troubles cease. 
 
 I place my trust in the blessings of this life, and 
 find them vain. I lean upon an arm of flesh, 
 and it is ' a broken reed.' I turn to GOD ; the GOD 
 whom religion reveals to me. I lean upon the arm 
 of GOD, and it does not fail me. Those whom I 
 love and value, and who might well be loved and 
 valued, are taken away from me. ' In the soli- 
 tndc of my soul' I turn to GOD, and find that if all 
 
156 THE DIVINE DISPENSATIONS 
 
 were taken, ' I am not alone, because the FATHER 
 is with me.' 
 
 And in saying this, Christians, do I not speak the 
 language of your hearts? If you are real Chris- 
 tians, I do. 
 
 I see you deprived of your health ; stript of your 
 substance ; or bereft of your friends ; and if I did 
 not find a response in your hearts when I speak to 
 you of the wisdom and goodness of GOD ; of the 
 consolations and hopes of the gospel of Christ; I 
 should strive in vain to console you. 
 
 You have lost, and if religion had no comfort 
 for you, irretrievably lost, one of the nearest 
 and dearest objects of your earthly affection. It is 
 mournful indeed, nay, it is bitter anguish, which 
 may be felt, but which, if it were desirable, could 
 not be described, when, in the midst of our earthly 
 happiness, death comes in to blast our hopes for 
 earth, in regard to those who are dearest to us. 
 
 At such a moment, philosophy, valuable as it 
 is in itself, has no effectual help for us. 
 
 It is in vain to tell us that grief is unavailing ; 
 that in time it will abate, and that at the longest its 
 duration must be short. It is still more vain to tell 
 us, in the language of ancient stoicism, tha*t * pain 
 is no evil,' when we keenly feel that it is so. It is 
 in vain to tell us to turn from our sorrows to amuse- 
 ments, when we could not if we would, and should 
 abhor to do so, if we could. 
 
 Various and contradictory maxims may be urged 
 upon us, and to all we must reply with the ancient 
 sufferer, ; Miserable comforters are ye all.' 
 
NOT TO BE QUESTIONED, ETC. 157 
 
 But it is not in vain to tell us to direct our thoughts 
 to GOD; to make an oblation of our wills to HIM; 
 to submit to sufferings which are the chastenings of 
 a PARENT, whose designs are kindest when His dis- 
 pensations are most severe; to drink of the bitter 
 cup we would avoid, without reproaching the Hand 
 which administered the distasteful, but salutary pre- 
 scription ; and to say, * I was dumb, I opened not 
 my mouth, because THOU didst it.' 
 
 There is too much disposition in mankind to dis- 
 regard the Providence of GOD; to overlook His 
 agency in the occurrences of life. Even in those 
 events in which there is the most signal interposi- 
 tion of Providence, this disposition is apparent. In 
 the restoration of health, how common is it to rest 
 in subordinate agents, instead of going beyond them 
 to HIM to whom the praise is chiefly due. ' It was 
 the skill of the physician,' too often it is said, 
 * the tender assiduity of friendship, or the peculiar 
 excellence and efficacy of the means that were 
 used.' ' Were there not ten cleansed ? But where 
 are the nine ? ' 
 
 Indeed the skill of the physician, and the assiduity 
 of friendship, and the means that were used, were 
 but instruments in the hands of GOD. * Except the 
 LORD build the house, they labor in vain that build 
 it.' 
 
 In the loss of friends, too ; when the gourd under 
 whose shade we had solaced ourselves is withered ; 
 how often do we hear deep, but unavailing regrets 
 that a different course had not been adopted from 
 
 VOL. II. 14 
 
158 
 
 THE DIVINE DISPENSATIONS 
 
 that which was actually pursued. * Had I em- 
 ployed another physician ; tried a certain remedy ; 
 removed my friend to the country ; or retained him 
 in town ; he might still have been with me.' 
 
 If the course pursued, and the means that were 
 used, were those which, to thy best judgment, ap- 
 peared to be right ; thou hast no cause to indulge 
 the feelings of regret. It was the will of GOD, who 
 cannot err, that thy friend should die. Yet he died 
 but to live again. Was he prepared ? he lives in 
 heaven. Be thankful that the blessing was enjoyed. 
 Be submissive now that it is, for a season, with- 
 drawn. Gird up thy loins, and prepare to follow. 
 
 There is no time when we feel more sensibly our 
 weakness and insufficiency, than when our earthly 
 hopes are prostrated by the removal of those whom, 
 we love. 
 
 In vain has been all our solicitude and care ; our 
 precautions and our efforts vain. If the will of 
 GOD has decreed it, nothing that we could do, will 
 counteract His purpose. The creatures of His pow- 
 er are subject to His disposal. He who gave life, 
 can take it away, and who can hinder HIM ? 
 
 But if we feel our weakness and insufficiency ; if 
 we feel that our precautions are useless, and our ef- 
 forts unavailing, against the Providence of GOD ; 
 the most thoughtless of us, it may be presumed, 
 is never tempted, in the language of presumption 
 and impiety, to say i What doest Thou ? ' 
 
 i Behold, He taketh away^ and who can hinder 
 HIM?' 
 
NOT TO BE QUESTIONED, ETC. 159 
 
 It was inevitable. We have done what we could 
 to prevent it ; to give stability and permanency to 
 what is in its nature unstable and fleeting; to 
 stay the flight of the spirit which GOD had sum- 
 moned to Himself, and which was struggling to 
 get loose from its mortal coil. But it was to no 
 purpose. The word had gone forth, i Dust thou art, 
 and unto dust shalt thou return ; ' and that which 
 was warm with life becomes cold in death. 
 
 It is the part of wisdom, as well as piety, to be 
 * still.' Our complaints would be as unavailing as 
 our efforts to prevent had been fruitless. 
 
 It may be that the Providence is mysterious and 
 inexplicable. A mother's care may have been with- 
 drawn from young children, and that mother anx- 
 ious and devoted. The stroke may have fallen 
 thrice in the same family in a little time, and the 
 days of youth and loveliness have been numbered. 
 
 4 The way of GOD may have been in the sea.' 
 The raging wind may have swept away, the stormy 
 ocean may have swallowed up, some of the dearest 
 objects of our love. We have seen them perish and 
 our help was vain. Or we have waited their return ; 
 but ' the place which once knew them shall know 
 them no more.' ' We looked for peace, but no good 
 came.' * Behold He taketh away, and who can 
 hinder HIM.' 
 
 If we should be tempted, in the bitterness of 
 grief, to ask < What doest Thou?' the inquiry 
 would come back upon us, ' Who art thou that repli- 
 est against GOD ? ' ' What hast thou that thou 
 didst not receive?' 
 
160 THE DIVINE DISPENSATIONS 
 
 But if it does not become thee to murmur, it 
 becomes thee to submit and adore ; to be grateful 
 for the consolation that is afforded thee in thy recol- 
 lections and thy hopes ; in the word of Him who 
 came to bind up the broken-hearted, and to pour the 
 oil of gladness into the wounded spirit. 
 
 Nor is this all. It becomes thee to open thy heart 
 to the devout impressions which the affliction that 
 is appointed thee is adapted to make ; to gather in- 
 struction from the Providence of GOD ; and be able 
 to say with the ancient sufferer, * It is good for me 
 to be afflicted.' 
 
 4 Whomsovever the Lord loveth He chasteneth, 
 not for His pleasure, but for our profit ; that we 
 might be partakers of His holiness.' 
 
 What would become of us if our b'fe were an 
 unmingled portion of good ; if our day were never 
 darkened with the clouds of adversity? Should 
 we not say with the apostle on the mount of trans- 
 figuration, * It is good for us to be here ; ' and put far 
 away from our thoughts what it would be so dread- 
 ful to realize ? Should we not forget the value of 
 our blessings ; and be regardless of the FOUNTAIN 
 whilst the streams were full ? Strange as it is, we 
 forget GOD because HE never forgets us. The very 
 multitude of His blessings makes us unmindful of 
 HIM; as the thick foliage of the spreading tree 
 shuts out the light of that sun to which it owes its 
 verdure and beauty. 
 
 It is not when the wind is fair, and the sails are 
 filled with a prosperous gale, that the mariner is 
 
NOT TO BE QUESTIONED ETC. 161 
 
 found at his devotions, but when the storm is up 
 and the sea rages, and the waves threaten to devour 
 him. 
 
 Who is there that does not acknowledge that a 
 blessing is enhanced by the fear of losing it, and 
 that its value is never fully known till it is taken 
 away? 
 
 When wearisome days and nights are appointed 
 us, we learn to prize the blessing of health. When 
 pinched with hunger and cold, we duly estimate 
 the blessings of food and rainment. 
 
 It is, alas ! when we are robbed of our friends, 
 that we fully realize how much we are indebted to 
 GOD for them; and how much we owe for what 
 still remains to us. 
 
 Afflictions, then, are intended as the instruments 
 of good to us. Afflictions which, by the grace of 
 GOD, we have rightly improved, are real blessings. 
 They come indeed with a frowning countenance, 
 but they bear a message of peace. They come to 
 mingle bitter ingredients in the cup of our enjoy- 
 ment, but it is to prevent us from being intoxicated 
 by the draught. They come to break asunder the 
 ties which bind us to earth and earthly things, but 
 it is to unite us more closely -to heaven and GOD. 
 
 Whatever may come upon U, here is a shelter 
 and refuge in which our spirit may find rest by re- 
 posing itself on the bosom of security and peace. 
 Our FATHER is at the helm of the universe, directing 
 all things for the good of all. 
 
 Let us then bend our neck to the yoke ; and learn 
 14* 
 
162 
 
 THE DIVINE DISPENSATIONS 
 
 wisdom from the things that we suffer. ' The heart 
 knoweth its own bitterness ; ' the bitterness of los- 
 ing what contributed so much to the happiness 
 of life. But it may also knqw the sweetness of re- 
 ligious hope; of affections placed on higher objects; 
 of mingling, by faith, the spirit that is on earth, 
 with the spirit that is in heaven ; of the anticipa- 
 tion of another meeting with those who deserved 
 its love, in a world where t there is no more death.' 
 
 My hearers, I cannot forbear to press upon you 
 the admonition which GOD, in His Providence, has 
 so forcibly and awfully addressed to you within the 
 last few weeks. Whilst your feelings prompt you 
 to sympathize with the afflicted, forget not that in 
 youth, as well as in maturity and old age, you may 
 be called away. l As the fishes are taken in an evil 
 net ; and as the birds are caught in a snare, so are 
 the sons of men snared in an evil time when it 
 cometh suddenly upon them.' ' Man knoweth not 
 his time.' c He cometh forth as a flower, and is cut 
 down. He neeth also as a shadow, and continueth 
 not.' 
 
 Death is ever watching at our side, eager to stop 
 the current of life. It may come in the daytime, 
 and arrest us amidst the calls of business. It may 
 come in the night, and the eyes which had closed in 
 security upon the world, may open in eternity. It 
 may come and interrupt our festivities. It may come 
 and find us at our devotions : and happy, were it 
 so, if the voice of supplication be exchanged for 
 the ceaseless voice of praise. It may come in 
 
NOT TO BE QUESTIONED, ETC. Hio 
 
 the quiet, gentle approaches of slow and wasting 
 sickness; or, in the suddenness and severity of 
 violent disease. It may come in the retired, peace- 
 ful scenes of domestic life ; or it may come upon 
 the boisterous ocean, in the whirlwind and the storm. 
 It may come and find us in the bosom of our fami- 
 ily ; or far from home, * by strangers honored, and 
 by strangers mourned.' 
 
 Come as it will, may we be ready, by the bless- 
 ing of GOD, to bid it welcome. Come as it will, 
 may it find us \vatehin<r. 'with our loins girded and 
 our lamps burning/ 
 
 There is a voice in nature around us little less 
 impressive than that which addresses us from the 
 grave. It speaks in the fading, withering flowers, 
 and in tin 1 falling leaf. Let us not fail to give it 
 language. It addresses itself to our hearts, * WE 
 
164 
 
 SERMON XXV. 
 
 LESSONS TO BE LEARNED IN THE HOUSE OF 
 MOURNING. 
 
 Eccles. vii. 2. IT is BETTER TO GO TO THE HOUSE OP MOURNING THAN 
 
 TO THE HOUSE OF FEASTING. 
 
 THESE words, at first sight, appear strange and 
 paradoxical. 
 
 By the constitution of our nature we are strong- 
 ly attracted towards scenes and objects which are 
 cheerful and pleasant, and have an equal repug- 
 nance to those which are sad and gloomy. 
 
 We prefer the t garment of praise,' to c the spirit 
 of heaviness ; ' the house of mirth to that of sorrow 
 and mourning. 
 
 How then can it be well for us to contemplate 
 those objects which are so repugnant to the feelings 
 and propensities of our nature ? 
 
 Can the bed of pain, and sickness, and death ; a 
 family desolate ; a husband, a wife, or a parent, be- 
 wailing the loss of all that was most dear ; l Rachel 
 weeping for her children, and refusing to be com- 
 forted because they are not ; ' can such objects as 
 these, so painful, so distressing, be fit objects 
 
LESSONS TO BE LEARNED, ETC. 165 
 
 for our contemplation ; and not only so, but the 
 best fitted for it ? 
 
 It is even so. The author of the text has not 
 presented to us a proposition apparently so strange, 
 without giving his reason for it. 
 
 * It is better,' he says, ' to go to the house of 
 mourning than to the house of feasting, for this is 
 the end of all men, and the living will lay it to heart.' 
 
 The living- will lay it to heart. 
 
 It would be well, if, in fact, it were always so. 
 
 It would be well if the living, when they go to 
 the house of mourning, would seriously reflect upon 
 the occasion which carries them thither, and the in- 
 timate concern they have with it ; and when they 
 come away, would bring upon their hearts a deep 
 impression of the truths they had been taught there. 
 
 It may be that they go to witness the keenness of 
 parental disappointment in the early blight of a 
 parent's hopes. The infant that but just returns 
 the smile of affection ; or the little child that has 
 learned to speak its wants, and to respond to the 
 accents of tenderness, is the object of the funeral 
 solemnities. Or a youth is to be borne to the grave ; 
 the grave of hopes, alas how fond, and yet how 
 vain! 
 
 It may be that they go to witness the severance 
 of the conjugal tie. The husband, or the wife, and 
 perhaps in the early period of their union ; and it may 
 be, by a stroke as sudden as it is severe, laid low in 
 death. 
 
 They go, in short, to behold the indiscriminate, 
 
166 LESSONS TO BE LEARNED 
 
 and unsparing ravages of the last enemy ; the fair- 
 est prospects darkened, and the most interesting and 
 most useful lives terminated. 
 
 And how instructive is the scene ! How power- 
 ful the voice which speaks silently, but impressively, 
 to the understanding and the heart. 
 
 Its first address is to those who have the deepest 
 interest in the scene ; to the parent whose hopes 
 are blighted ; to those who have lost the friends of 
 their bosom, their associates in the duties and cares, 
 the enjoyments and sorrows of life ; to those whose 
 house, in the mournful and mysterious Providence 
 of GOD, is itself the house of mourning. 
 
 Hard indeed is the lesson of mortality which is 
 written in dust, so sacred, so dear. 
 
 Mournful, indeed, the voice which issues from 
 the remains of what was once so lovely, and so 
 much loved ! And who will lay it to heart, if they 
 do not? 
 
 Others may come to mix in a crowd ; to behold 
 a show ; to pay a civil compliment to an afflicted 
 family, and the last respect to a neighbor and ac- 
 quaintance. But it is not so with them. They 
 have a close and intimate connection with what is 
 passing. A part of themselves, of what was bound 
 to them by the closest ties, is taken away ; and it 
 will be required of them, whilst they bow their 
 souls in submission, to learn wisdom from 'the 
 things which they suffer.' 
 
 They feel that all they most value is unsubstan- 
 tial and vain, and they must learn to ' sit more 
 
IN THE HOUSE OF MOURNING. 167 
 
 loosely/ to what they value here, and to lay a firmer 
 hold on what is substantial and abiding. 
 
 Tn religion they will find a source of consolation 
 under trials, however severe; and in GOD a substi- 
 tute for every other friend. HE gives and takes 
 away in mercy and kindness, and as much deserves 
 our confidence, and love, and gratitude, in taking, 
 as in giving. The time which HE appoints is the 
 fittest. All the circumstances are such as it is best 
 they should be ; and if we gain instruction, and 
 spi ritual benefit, from our disappointment and suf- 
 fering, we shall be more than repaid for all. 
 
 The season of affliction is a season peculiarly 
 valuable. It is a season consecrated to reflection 
 and prayer. When we have lost that which gave 
 to life its highest charm, or was associated with all 
 our ideas of earthly happiness, the world appears 
 empty and unattractive. In our solitary state, l whom 
 have we in heaven but GOD ; and who on earth do 
 we desire beside HIM?' If we think and feel as 
 we ought, we turn to HIM as our best, our only re- 
 source. 
 
 But the, fire which does not melt, hardens ; and 
 in passing through the furnace of affliction, if the 
 heart is not softened, and rendered more ductile to 
 serious impressions, it becomes less alive to them ; 
 and the design of affliction is frustrated, per- 
 verted. 
 
 Nor is jt only for those who are most nearly and 
 deeply interested, to learn the lessons that are 
 taught in the house of mourning. It should be one 
 
168 LESSONS TO BE LEARNED 
 
 great purpose of those who go there, to have their 
 hearts affected by the monitory instance of mor- 
 tality which is presented to them. They should go 
 with thoughtful minds. They should listen with 
 deep attention to the silent preacher, which, in the 
 Providence of GOD, is admonishing them of then- 
 frailty, and of the instability of their blessings. 
 They should lift up their hearts in prayer that they 
 may be impressed, and awakened to repentance and 
 holiness. They should come away with thought- 
 ful minds, and carry with them, into the quiet and 
 the active scenes of life, into its business and its 
 relaxations, the recollection of what they have seen 
 and heard. 
 
 They have a deep concern in it ; for what they 
 have seen and heard is an exhibition and warning 
 of what will soon happen to them. 
 
 That silent teacher has only taught them what 
 they, in their turn, shall teach to others, in the silent 
 language of death. 
 
 And can it be, that any are anxious to banish 
 from their minds what concerns them so nearly, and 
 to get rid of impressions, if they have been 
 made, which are so important to their eternal 
 welfare ? 
 
 Can it be, that any will not seek to revive those 
 impressions, and cherish them, and strive, by the 
 grace of GOD, to render them influential on their 
 conduct ? 
 
 That ancient monarch was far wiser who com- 
 manded that he should be told every day, 4 Thou 
 
IN THE HOUSE OF MOURNING. 
 
 169 
 
 art mortal.' It was a fact, and why should he not 
 be told of it? It was an nil-important fact, and 
 why should lie not be olVn told of it? It was a 
 fact adapted to exert an influence on his daily con- 
 duct, and why should he not be reminded of it 
 every day ? 
 
 The young are taken. The middle-aged are taken. 
 The old are taken. They who have little, and they 
 who have much; the happy and the unhappy; and 
 as none are exempt, can any desire to be exempt 
 from the thoughts of mortality, which alone can 
 prepare them for it ? 
 
 It was the advice of a heathen poet, * Act every 
 day as if it were thy last.' 
 
 ' Believe that every morning's ray 
 Will usher in thy latest day.* 
 
 Though the advice was not given for a Christian 
 purpose, a Christian may profit by it. 
 
 If. to banish the thought of death would banish 
 death itself, there would be some reason for striving 
 to forget it. But how strange is the infatuation to 
 strivr to forget what it is of infinite moment that 
 we should remember and feel ; to shut our eyes on 
 the brink of a precipice! 
 
 But why should we be unwilling to entertain 
 the thought of death ? What is it? It is not an- 
 nihilation. It is only a change in the mode of 
 existence. It may be a < -hange for the better. To 
 little children', of whom our Saviour has said 'of 
 such is the kingdom of heaven/ it is an introduc- 
 
 TOL. II. 15 
 
170 
 
 LESSONS TO BE LEARNED 
 
 tion to that kingdom. To the righteous, for whom 
 the apostle said ' there remaineth a rest,' it is to 
 enter into that rest. i It is better,' and not worse, 
 4 to depart and be with Christ.' It is to be freed 
 from the disappointments and sorrows of this 
 life, from its vexations and cares, its infirmi- 
 ties and sicknesses, its temptations and sins ; from 
 all that troubles and distracts, and weighs down 
 our spirits. It is to be re-united to that from which 
 we are severed, to regain what we have lost, if it 
 will be necessary to our happiness to receive it 
 again. It is to go from what is vain, to what is 
 real ; from what is unsubstantial, to what is sure ; 
 from what is unsatisfying, to what will fill the 
 largest capacities, and gratify the utmost wishes of 
 the soul. 
 
 It is better to go to the house of mourning than 
 to the house of feasting. ' The heart of the wise 
 is in the house of mourning.' 
 
 In the house of mourning there are preachers far 
 more eloquent, my hearers, than any who can ad- 
 dress you from this place, and whose eloquence, 
 though silent, is not the less instructive and ener- 
 getic. The lessons they teach concern you all, and 
 concern you deeply. Their admonition is, ' It is 
 appointed unto all once to die.' Man knoweth 
 not his time. * He cometh fortli like a flower and 
 is cut down; he fleeth also as a shadow, and 
 continueth not. In the midst of life we are in 
 death.' 
 
 Turn not a deaf ear, I beseech you, to the admo- 
 
IN THE HOUSE OF MOURNING. 171 
 
 nition which these words convey to you. Ponder 
 it! Obey it! 
 
 Learn a lesson of instruction from the victims 
 whom death is continually immolating, and 'so 
 number your days as to apply your hearts unto 
 wisdom-. 
 
172 
 
 SERMON XXYI. 
 
 A SENSE OF THE PRESENCE AND BLESSING OF GOD 
 INCONSISTENT WITH FEAR. 
 
 Isaiah xli. 10. FEAR THOU NOT, i AM WITH THEE. BE NOT DISMAYED, 
 
 I AM THY GOD. 
 
 WE should have reason indeed to fear, if we 
 were left to contend with our own arm against the 
 temptations, or to struggle in our strength under 
 the sufferings of life. It requires but little expe- 
 rience to convince us of the force of these tempta- 
 tions, and the weight of these sufferings, and, at 
 the same time, of our utter inability, of ourselves, 
 to resist or sustain them. 
 
 The present world is a probationary state. Both 
 temptations and sufferings are essential to it. We 
 are not to be surprised, then, as though < some 
 strange thing had happened ' to us, when we are 
 called to encounter them. They are a part of the 
 discipline appointed by Infinite Wisdom, and are 
 designed and adapted to promote our improvement 
 and happiness. 
 
 Still, they would be irresistible, and insupport- 
 able, if there were not strength, superior to our 
 own, to uphold and aid us in the conflict. 
 
A SENSE OF THE PRESENCE OF GOD, ETC. 173 
 
 Praised be GOD, in the assaults of our spiritual 
 enemies, when we look for succor, a powerful 
 arm, stronger than the strongest, is extended for 
 our defence ; and in the time of trouble, when the 
 clouds gather around us, and, like the apostles, we 
 * fear as we enter into the cloud,' if we exercise a 
 pious trust, there is a voice from the cloud whose 
 language is, * FEAR THOU NOT, I AM WITH THEE. BE 
 
 NOT DISMAYED, I AM THY GoD.' 
 
 Blessed words ! How full of consolation ! How 
 do they lighten the heavy pressure of calamity, and 
 afford a balm to to the bleeding heart! 
 
 1 FEAR THOU NOT, I AM WITH THEE.' 
 
 And who is it that thus comes, in the time of 
 need, to speak the words of comfort, and to hush 
 our fears by the assurance of his presence and aid ? 
 Who is it that, with so much authority, yet Aviih 
 so much tenderness, bids us look to him for help 
 when other help is vain? 
 
 It is GOD. Yes, it is GOD. HE who said to the 
 waves of the sea, ' Hitherto shalt thou come and no, 
 farther ; ' can control the waves of affliction as they 
 pass over the soul, that they shall not overwhelm 
 us. HE who ' doeth His pleasure in heaven and 
 on earth ; ' who is higher than the highest, whom 
 no power can resist ; condescends to * pour the oil 
 of gladness into the wounded spirit,' and to ' bind 
 up the broken in heart.' 
 
 Be not dismayed, I am thy GOD. Almighty in 
 power; infinite in wisdom; perfect in goodness; 
 what can we desire more ? If HE be for us, ' who 
 
174 
 
 A SENSE OF THE PRESENCE OF GOD 
 
 can be against us ? ' If He be for us, we need not 
 fear i though the earth be removed, and the moun- 
 tains be carried into the midst of the sea.' 
 
 Though every other prop should fail us, if we 
 lean upon Him we shall be upheld. 
 
 Though every other refuge should be withdrawn, 
 if we can flee to the ROCK OF AGES for shelter, we 
 shall find a covert from the tempest. Though every 
 other friend should forsake us, if we are secure in 
 the friendship of GOD, we have enough ; for we 
 can always say, in our most solitary state, '/ am not 
 alone, because the Father is with me? The FATHER 
 of spirits, HE who knoweth our frame, and remem- 
 bereth that we are but dust ; ' and as a father pitieth 
 his children, hath pity on them that fear Him.' 
 
 Behold, then, thy refuge, Christian, in the time of 
 trouble! Behold thy Friend, when other friends 
 fail thee, thy Protector, when other protectors are 
 withdrawn from thee. Whatever calamity has be- 
 fallen thee, if thou reposest thy trust in GOD, and 
 doest His will, thou mayest appropriate to thyself 
 the assurance of our text, ''Fear thou not, I am with 
 thee.'' Thou mayest appropriate it to thyself, and it 
 will be sufficient for thee. Thou canst sustain no 
 loss which His presence and blessing cannot supply. 
 Thou canst need no strength which His omnipo- 
 tence cannot afford thee. His appointments may 
 be mysterious and inexplicable ; but HE will give 
 thee to perceive that they are ordered in wisdom. 
 ' Clouds and darkness ' may be ' round about Him,' 
 but He will give thee to know and to feel that 
 
INCONSISTENT WITH FEAR. 170 
 
 'righteousness and judgment and mercy are the 
 habitation of His throne.' 
 
 Thou mayest be allowed to perceive, in the pres- 
 ent world, that His darkest dispensations are ordered 
 in kindness and love; and 'what thou knowest not 
 now, thou shalt know hereafter.' The clouds and 
 darkness \\hieh envelope the throne of the ETERNAL 
 shall be dispelled, and ' His righteousness shall 
 shine forth as the light, and His judgment as the 
 noonday.' If thy trials are sanctified to thee, and 
 made the instrument, through the mediation of the 
 Saviour, of procuring for thee l an eternal weight of 
 glory,' standing as on an eminence, thou wilt look 
 back on the path of life and adore the wisdom that 
 marked out thy course for thee, and the mercy that 
 made it, in any respect, a difficult and wearisome 
 pilgrimage. 
 
 Let thy faith anticipate this period. Borrow 
 some sweets from the store of futurity to mitigate 
 the bitterness of present grief. Nay, look backward 
 now, whilst thou art yet a pilgrim on earth, and 
 behold how much cause there is for gratitude and 
 trust and consolation in the past. Look around 
 thee, and see how many blessings yet remain, to 
 awaken the sentiment of thankfulness, and pious 
 trust in GOD. Listen to the kind invitation, ' Call 
 upon ME in trouble, I will deliver thee, and thou 
 shalt glorify me;' and adopt, with the full consent 
 of thy mind, the devout, roiiliding language of the 
 Psalmist, * Why art thou cast down, O my soul? 
 Why art thou disquieted within me? Hope in 
 
176 
 
 A SENSE OF THE PRESENCE OF GOD 
 
 GOD, for I shall yet praise HIM for the help of His 
 countenance.' 
 
 To adopt the language of devout and grateful 
 trust in GOD, is the duty, and may be the privilege, 
 of us all. In prosperity, it is this alone that can 
 render prosperity a blessing. In adversity, this 
 only can take the edge from affliction, and convert 
 a seeming evil into a real good. 
 
 No period of life, no favorable combination of 
 circumstances in our lot, can exempt us from ca- 
 lamity. We- are ' born to trouble.' It is an inher- 
 itance sad indeed, but one which we cannot refuse. 
 We may be happy in our families ; prosperous in 
 our affairs ; possessed of health ; surrounded by 
 friends ; but all will not avail to avert the stroke. 
 ' Our mountain ' never ' standeth so strong that 
 it cannot be moved.' 
 
 The sources of our happiness will be the sources 
 of our misery. If the ties are numerous that have 
 entwined themselves about the heart, the more cer- 
 tain and the more frequent the suffering. If they 
 are close, the more profusely the heart will bleed 
 when they are torn away. 
 
 Calamity may come upon us suddenly. A few 
 days, nay, even a moment, may reverse our 
 prospects of worldly good. 
 
 When the earthly staff of our comfort fails us, if 
 we have no firmer stay, we must sink. When our 
 fairest earthly prospects are reversed, if we have no 
 brighter prospects, our condition must be dark and 
 gloomy indeed. 
 
INCONSISTENT WITH FEAR. 177 
 
 What comfort, I beseech you, is there for 
 him who has no hope in GOD ? None, on earth or 
 in h< 'liven. H<> is drawing from a broken cistern. 
 He is building on an unstable foundation. 4 His 
 hope is as a spider's web.' It will be swept away. 
 
178 
 
 SERMON XXVII. 
 
 THEY ARfc NOT ALONE WHO FEEL ASSURED THAT THE 
 FATHER IS WITH THEM. 
 
 John xvi. 33. i AM NOT ALONE, BECAUSE THE FATHER is WITH ME. 
 
 OUR Saviour spake these words in reference to 
 one of the most affecting incidents of his life. 
 
 They were addressed to his disciples in his last 
 interview with them before his crucifixion. 
 
 In adverting to the events that were about to take 
 place, he alludes, but in a manner far from re- 
 proachful, to their desertion of him, and to his 
 being left alone, unsupported and uncheered by the 
 presence of his friends, in the midst of his enemies. 
 4 Behold the hour cometh, yea, x and now is, when all' 
 ye shall be scattered abroad, and shall leave me 
 alone. And yet,' he adds, ' I am not alone, because 
 the Father is with me.' 
 
 His prediction, in a few hours, was verified. They 
 were ' scattered every one to his own,' but the 
 presence of his Father, and the strength that was 
 vouchsafed to him, enabled him to meet his enemies 
 unappalled ; and, in the hall of Pilate, and on the 
 
THEY ARE NOT ALONE, ETC. 179 
 
 cross at Calvary, to preserve a deportment serene 
 and dignified. 
 
 In the garden of Gethsemane so bitter were the 
 ingredients which were mingled in his cup of suf- 
 fering, that reluctant nature was for a moment 
 unwilling to drink it. But there was a visible 
 interposition of GOD in his support. * There ap- 
 peared an angel to him strengthening him,' and he 
 could say, ' Nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou 
 wilt/ 
 
 Amidst the horrors and pangs of crucifixion, the 
 mournful complaint was forced from him, ' My 
 GOD ! my GOD ! why hast Thou forsaken me ? ' 
 but again he reposes himself, in that awful hour, on 
 the protection of his FATHER,' and into His hands 
 commits his departing spirit. 
 
 He had sojourned forty days in the wilderness. 
 He had spent whole nights in the desert mountain. 
 He had wandered about from place to place, not 
 having where to lay his head. Yet, in the deepest 
 solitude, and amidst the severest privations, his 
 nearest and best Friend was ever at hand, to arm 
 him against the assaults of the tempter, to sustain 
 him under the pressure of want and suffering, and 
 to aid him in fulfilling the work of mercy which 
 had been given Mm to do. 
 
 And so at last, when, to use the language of the 
 Psalniisi, his friends stood aloof from his sore, and 
 his kinsmen afar off; when he yielded his life 
 an offering for sin, the same FRIEND was near to 
 supply the place of earthly comforters ; to accept 
 
180 THEY ARE NOT ALONE, 
 
 his voluntary sacrifice, and to receive the pure and 
 spotless spirit to the place from which it had de- 
 scended. 
 
 There was a peculiar sense in which the presence 
 of GOD was with Jesus Christ. 
 
 He was intimately and inconceivably united to 
 the FATHER ; and of him it was said, by a voice 
 from heaven, in a sense in which it could be said 
 of no human being, ' This is my beloved Son, in 
 whom I am well pleased.' 
 
 We need go no farther ; I am ready to acknowl- 
 edge that my anxious inquiries can carry me no 
 farther. 
 
 The nature of the connection between the FA- 
 THER and the SON it has not pleased GOD to reveal. 
 Nor perhaps could it be revealed to our imperfect 
 conceptions. We must have other powers than we 
 now have to understand it. It is useless and un- 
 profitable, to say the least, to contend where 
 there is so little knowledge. Jesus Christ himself 
 has told us that he is ' the way, the truth, and the 
 life, and that no one cometh to the FATHER but by 
 him.' 
 
 But if there is a peculiar sense in which the pres- 
 ence of GOD was with Jesus Christ, there is a sense, 
 too, in which the presence of GOD may be with us, 
 frail children of mortality. 
 
 I do not refer to that Omniscience which per- 
 vades the universe, which, surrounds and pervades 
 all that exists. In this sense He is present with 
 us as he was with Jesus, in every hour and in every 
 
WHO HAVE THE FATHER WITH THEM. 181 
 
 place, with the wicked, as well as with the good ; 
 with those who are the objects of His displeasure, 
 as well as those who are the objects of his com- 
 placency and love. 
 
 Yet there is still another sense in which GOD is 
 with us ; the same in nature, though not in degree, 
 in which His presence was with the blessed Sa- 
 viour. 
 
 The wicked man who, in the darkness of the 
 night, is pursuing his unholy purpose, may indeed 
 say ' Thou GOD seest me ; ' but he cannot say with 
 the tenderness and affection of the pious, who, in 
 the secrecy of devout retirement, is communing 
 with GOD, ' I am not alone, because the FATHER 
 is with me/ 
 
 He cannot feel as the pious feels, when he is 
 deserted and bereft, that, in his most solitary state, 
 a parental arm, stronger than the strongest, is ex- 
 tended for his support ; and the wing of Almighty 
 Love spread out for his protection. 
 
 When the tempest beats upon his head, or the 
 1 waters pass into his soul/ he cannot say ' Lead me to 
 the Rock that is higher than I.' 'In the secret of his 
 pavilion he will hide me till the tempest be overpast.' 
 No ! He would gladly * go out from the presence of 
 the Lord,' and hide himself from the notice of that 
 Eye from whose penetrating glance none can escape, 
 and under whose protection the righteous repose 
 themselves with filial confidence. And here is the 
 diilerence. None are alone ; but the pious only can 
 rejoice in the presence of GOD. And they do re- 
 
 VOL. II. 16 
 
182 THEY ARE NOT ALONE 
 
 joice in it. It is the source of their highest joy. In 
 prosperity they rejoice in it, for they remember that 
 the Author of their prosperity is the witness of their 
 grateful improvement of it. 
 
 In adversity they rejoice in it, for it sustains and 
 consoles them. HE who has wounded -is present 
 to heal them, and to pour tfee balm of consolation 
 into their wounded spirits. 
 
 In seasons of doubt and perplexity they rejoice 
 in it, for it enlightens and guides them. 
 
 In sickness they rejoice in it, for it t makes all 
 their bed in their sickness.* In death they rejoice 
 in it, for it fortifies their minds. It sheds a holy 
 peace abroad in their hearts, and inspires a blessed 
 hope full of immortality ; and, ' though they walk 
 through the valley of the shadow of death, they fear 
 no evil.' 
 
 My hearers, have we imbibed so much of the 
 spirit of our blessed Saviour, that, in the most soli- 
 tary state, we can say with him 1 1 am not alone, 
 because the Father is with me ? ' 
 
 Is this our joy in prosperity, our support in ad- 
 versity ; and will this minister peace and consola- 
 tion to our spirits when they are taking their flight 
 into eternity? If it be not so, hapless indeed is 
 our condition. 
 
 If it be so, we have enough. We have all and 
 abound. In poverty we are rich. In sickness we 
 have health. In death we live. 
 
 Our friends may die, but our best FRIEND re- 
 
WHO HAVE Till: I \THi;U WITH THEM. 183 
 
 mains to us. The time of our departure may come, 
 but we shall be borne up * amidst the swellings of 
 Jordan ; ' and the presence of GOD, which has been 
 the source of our joy through the brief and fleeting 
 moments of our earthly pilgrimage, will be the 
 source of our joy through the endless ages of eter- 
 nity. 
 
184 
 
 SERMON XXVIII. 
 
 THE FEAE OF DEATH. 
 
 Heb. ii. 5. WHO, THROUGH FEAR OF DEATH, WERE ALL THEIR LIFE- 
 TIME SUBJECTED TO BONDAGE. 
 
 FEW, probably, if any, have passed through life 
 wholly unsubjected to the bondage of the fear of 
 death. 
 
 It requires a powerful struggle to break this thral- 
 dom. It is the noblest effort of the mind, with the 
 full sense of death, and with just conceptions of 
 death, to overcome this fear. 
 
 It is an effort which, I hesitate not to say, the 
 pious only can make with success. 
 
 Many, indeed, who were not pious have met 
 death apparently unmoved by fear. But were they 
 fully aware of its approach? Had they a just sense 
 of its consequences ? Was there no latent hope of 
 escape ? 
 
 I am not yet convinced that any thing but' piety 
 will inspire composure and tranquillity when death 
 is viewed as unavoidable, and as an introduction to 
 the righteous tribunal of GOD. 
 
THE FEAR OF DEATH. 185 
 
 There are several causes of the fear of death. I 
 shall mention a few of them. 
 
 1. The first is inherent in our nature. It is a prin- 
 ciple implanted by our CREATOR as the safeguard 
 of life; an instinct, which prompts to self-preser- 
 vation before the slow process of reason could de- 
 termine the necessity, or direct to the means. We 
 have an instinctive dread of death, and shrink from 
 it, involuntarily, but earnestly. 
 
 2. The second cause is our attachment to the 
 world in which we dwell ; to the scenes and the 
 objects, not to say the employments and the pleas- 
 ures, which render life desirable. We are em- 
 barked on an ocean with all that is dear and valu- 
 able to us. Death is the shipwreck, and the wreck 
 is total. 
 
 3. The third is the uncertainty concerning the 
 state of the departed; the veil that conceals fu- 
 turity, and, to us, shrouds it in darkness ; perhaps 
 the certainty, if called as we now are into eternity, 
 of a fearful retribution. 
 
 There is, too, I may add, in some, a constitu- 
 tional tendency to anxiety and solicitude, which 
 neither reason nor religion can always wholly over- 
 come. It is a weakness of their nature, but is not a 
 proof that they are not safe. Their sun may set in 
 a cloud, and rise in glory. 
 
 Such are the causes, at least some of the prin- 
 cipal ones, of the fear of death. 
 
 And what are the remedies? 
 16* 
 
186 THE FEAR OF DEATH. 
 
 If, as I have said, the natural dread of death is 
 the safeguard of life, entirely to suppress it were 
 not desirable, even if it be possible. 
 
 Life is given for the accomplishment of valuable 
 ends. It is known to HIM who gave it, how long 
 it is fitting and best it should last ; and to be reck- 
 less of life is as little the part of wisdom as of piety. 
 But the natural dread of death may be moderated 
 by the frequent contemplation of death ; at least 
 in such points of view as reason and religion pre- 
 sent it to us ; by considering it as a means to an 
 important end; as a translation from one state of 
 being to another; and, to the righteous, as a trans- 
 lation to a state inconceivably better and happier 
 than the present. 
 
 By such contemplation, the circumstances which 
 attend the ' article of death ' become disarmed of 
 their terrors. When a great good is to be obtained, 
 the evils we must encounter in acquiring it lose 
 their importance. 
 
 The remedy for the dread of losing the world, 
 and the objects of the world, is to dwell on the 
 recollection of those fairer scenes and better objects 
 which faith, while on earth, can descry, and which 
 piety will realize and enjoy in heaven. 
 
 Why should we dread to part with a lesser for a 
 greater good? Why should we cling so closely, 
 so fondly, to what is fading, uncertain, unsatisfy- 
 ing; when we can exchange them for what is last- 
 ing, sure, and all-sufficient? 
 
 Shall we dread death, if to die is to live forever ? 
 
run FI:AK or DKATH. 
 
 1-7 
 
 Shall we dread TO part from those whom we have 
 loved below, when we may meet with worthier ob- 
 "f atlection above, and are assured that those 
 who were most worthy of our affection here, will 
 be the companions and sharers of our felicity there ? 
 
 But there is still another cause of the fear of 
 death; and for this, too, we must find a remedy. 
 The uncertainty respecting futurity, or perhaps the 
 certainty, that death to us will be the instrument of 
 misery and ruin. 
 
 I grant that there is much darkness and uncer- 
 tainty respecting the state of the departed. 
 
 There is much to lead us to believe, I think, in 
 the immediate transition of the soul to^a state of 
 consciousness after death. There is manifestly a 
 dillerence between the soul and the body ; and we 
 do often find that when the body is wasted, and 
 sinking into death, the spirit is animated and vigor- 
 cu-. and aspiring after life. The Scriptures, too, 
 tar as they give us information, st re n^then this 
 belief. The declaration of our Saviour to the thief 
 on the cross, and the parable of the rich man who 
 fan -d sumptuously, and Lazarus who was ' laid at 
 his gate full of sores/ are to this point. And to 
 these, among others, might be added the allusions 
 to Abraham and Isaac and Jacob, as already glori- 
 fied ; the declaration of Paul that for him to depart 
 was to be with Christ, and the appearance of Moses 
 and Elias on the mount of transfiguration. 
 
 Yet there is uncertainty respecting the mode of 
 existence. ' No traveller has returned from that 
 bourne to tell us what it is.' 
 
188 
 
 THE FEAR OF DEATH 
 
 The most important information, however, has 
 been given us. We are told that we shall live ; and 
 that if our life on earth has been holy, our life in 
 heaven will be happy. 
 
 More than this, we need not know. More than 
 this, we could not understand. Our powers are 
 finite, and infinite objects are too vast for our com- 
 prehension. 
 
 As sure as GOD exists, who c cannot He,' there is 
 a heaven where piety will find its reward ; and a 
 hell where sin will meet its punishment ; and this is 
 enough for us to know. 
 
 If this knowledge has its proper influence upon 
 us ; if it leads us to repentance ; the last cause of 
 the fear of death I have mentioned will no longer 
 exist, the certainty that death will be the instru- 
 ment of misery. 
 
 It is preparation for death alone, that can disarm 
 death of its sting. And will any of you neglect 
 this preparation, and remain in bondage und^r the 
 fear of death, and feel its sting, and taste its bitter- 
 ness unallayed, and reap its fearful consequences ? 
 
 O, be not so unwise ! Christ has taken the sting 
 from death, and they who live in Christ, and die in 
 Christ, shall not feel its power. 
 
 To them death is conquered, despoiled, destroyed. 
 The clouds that hung over its valley are scattered. 
 The veil is lifted, to the eye of faith the throne of 
 GOD and of the Lamb, is visible ; and the bed of 
 infirmity and death becomes the field of triumph. 
 < O death, where is thy sting ! O grave where is 
 
THE FEAR OF DEATH. 
 
 thy victory!' * Thanks be to GOD who giveth us 
 the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ/ 
 
 Fear not, then, pious believer! Thou hast ob- 
 tained thy freedom from the dominion of sin, and 
 thou hast no reason to he in bondage to the fear of 
 death. By the grace of GOD, thou hast overcome 
 the enemy to thy salvation ; and thou hast in truth 
 overcome the last enemy. It may destroy thy body, 
 but it cannot harm thy soul. 
 
 Harm thy soul ! It comes to bless it. It comes 
 to release it from the bondage of corruption. It 
 comes to take it from its prison-house where it is 
 fettered and confined, and to introduce it to light 
 and liberty, where it may flow out in unrestrained 
 ailection towards the Source of its felicity, enjoy the 
 full fruition of its hopes, and taste of bliss unalloyed, 
 unending. 
 
 Fear not, then, pious believer! Thou hast little 
 e, and thou hast much to gain. Thou art 
 tossed on a stormy ocean ; death shall convey thee 
 to a still and peaceful shore. 
 
 The clouds of doubt, and distrust, and fearful 
 apprehension, often hang over thee, and hide from 
 thee the light of GOD'S countenance ; and intercept 
 the bright rays of the Sun of Righteousness. The 
 tempest of affliction beats upon thy head. The 
 shades of night will descend upon thee. But fear 
 thou not! Death comes to dissipate the clouds of 
 doubt, and distrust, and fearful apprehension; to 
 still the tempest of affliction; to chase away the 
 shades of night; to restore to thee, forever, the 
 
190 THE FEAR OF DEATH. 
 
 light of GOD'S countenance, and the bright rays of 
 the Sun of Righteousness. 
 
 * And I saw no temple therein,' said the author 
 of the Apocalypse, 'for the LORD GOD ALMIGHTY 
 and the Lamb are the temple of it. And the city 
 had no need of the sun or the moon to shine in it, 
 for the glory of GOD did lighten it, and the Lamb 
 is the light thereof. And the nations of them which 
 are saved shall walk in the light of it ; and the 
 gates of it shall no more be shut by day; and there 
 shall be no night there.' 
 
 Blessed prospect ! To be freed from doubt, and 
 to enjoy full, undoubting certainty. To be freed 
 from error, and to be possessed of perfect, unadul- 
 terated truth. To be freed from sorrow, and to par- 
 take of full, unmingled joy. To be freed from sin, 
 and to possess undeviating rectitude. To be freed 
 from the fear and the darkness of death, and to be 
 introduced to the undisturbed tranquillity, and un- 
 veiled light of life. 
 
 Blessed prospect ! beyond the reach of mortal 
 ken, or the grasp of mortal mind ! Do not our souls 
 desire it, and will they not aspire after it, and will 
 they not seek it with intense and unremitting dili- 
 gence ? 
 
 What is there on earth to compare with the feli- 
 city and glory of heaven ? Poor, vain world ! Thy 
 purest pleasures are mingled. Thy brightest glories 
 are clouded. Thy highest honors are fading. Thy 
 largest rewards are poor and scanty. Poor vain world ! 
 What hast thou to compare with the pleasures that 
 
THE FEAR OF DEATH. 191 
 
 flow at the right hand of GOD, the glories that 
 surround His throne? 
 
 What hast thou to compare with the crown of 
 righteousness; or what reward canst thou bestow 
 that can equal the rewards of a blessed eternity ? 
 
 Ah wretched sinner ! Wilt thou, for the glittering 
 baubles, the unsubstantial enjoyments, the poor 
 rewards of earth, forfeit the joys, and the honors, 
 and the glories of heaven ? Wilt thou cast away 
 thy hopes, and hug thy fetters, and remain in 
 wretched bondage forever ? 
 
192 
 
 SERMON XXIX. 
 
 THERE IS NO DEATH, NOR SORROW, NOR PAIN IN 
 HEAVEN. 
 
 Revelations xxi. 4. THERE is NO MORE DEATH, NEITHER SORROW 
 
 . NOR CRYING, FOR THE FORMER THINGS HAVE PASSED AWAY. 
 
 THE greater part of the Apocalypse of St. John 
 is involved in deep and impenetrable obscurity. It 
 is a sealed book ; and no one has yet been allowed 
 to open the seal, and disclose the contents.* 
 
 Many commentators, indeed, have attempted it, 
 but they have rather ; darkened counsel by words 
 without wisdom,' than elucidated what it appears 
 to be the will of Providence, as in regard to most 
 of the prophetic books, should be understood 
 only in the fulfilment. 
 
 But, whatever darkness may rest on the greater 
 
 *In a correspondence which the author had with Dr. Adam 
 Clarke, the commentator on the Bible, he was happy to find him- 
 self corroborated in the opinion he had formed of the obscurity 
 of the book of Revelations. Dr. Clarke declared himself utterly 
 unable to comprehend it, and said he should say but little in the 
 way of interpretation. What was said, would be said by his son, 
 who would write the commentary on that book.' 
 
THERE IS NO DEATH, NOR SORROW, ETC. 193 
 
 part of the book of the Revelations, there is a part 
 which is written as with a sunbeam; and it is 
 enough to render this book of inestimable worth 
 to every feeling and pious mind. I allude to the 
 representation of the state of the blessed. 
 
 It is more than a representation, if I may say so. 
 It is a picture, complete and glowing, and animated, 
 of their employments and felicities. 
 
 I had nearly said it is still more ; for, so vivid, so 
 lifelike, is the description, we almost seem to be 
 admitted behind the scene; to breathe the air of 
 heaven ; to behold the l elders around the throne ; ' 
 and to hear the acclamations of the redeemed. 
 
 If the language is sometimes figurative, it is full 
 of meaning ; if we are sometimes told that * there 
 is no more sea,' we are reminded that agitations 
 and contentions have ceased ; or, if it is said that, 
 in the place of the stormy, tempestuous ocean, there 
 is ' a sea of glass,' it is a striking symbol of unin- 
 terrupted peace and tranquillity. 
 
 But the language of this book is not always 
 figurative. It is sometimes plain, direct, and ex- 
 plicit; coming home to the nature and condition, 
 the necessities and hopes of man. Its import i-vcry 
 understanding can comprehend, and its value every 
 heart can feel. 
 
 Of this nature is the language of the text. 
 4 There is no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, 
 lu'ither any more pain, for the former things have 
 passed away.' 
 
 It would be an insult to your understandings if I 
 
 VOL. II. 17 
 
194 THERE IS NO DEATH, NOR SORROW, 
 
 were to attempt to prove to you that man is mortal ; 
 that ' he dieth and wasteth away.' It is not a truth 
 about which we may reason, and receive, or reject 
 it, as the weight of evidence may incline to the one 
 side or the other. It is a fact which is presented to 
 the senses, and we cannot but see and know it. 
 We may turn away, but it will meet us on the 
 other side. We may shut our eyes, but we shall 
 hear it in the sigh of agonized affection ; we shall 
 feel it in the * aching void.' 
 
 1 There is no more death? 
 
 Ye who, all your life-time, are * subject to bondage 
 by reason of death ' ! Behold a country where its 
 ravages are unknown ; whence its fear is removed ; 
 and be excited to secure an interest in * Him who 
 has abolished death,' and delivered those who all 
 their lifetime were subject to its bondage. 
 
 ' There is no more sorrow nor crying^ neither any 
 more pain? 
 
 How various and multiplied are the sources of 
 our trouble on earth ! As various and multiplied as 
 the condition and circumstances of mankind. There 
 is no cup without mixture. There is no web of life 
 into which the threads of sorrow have not been 
 woven. ' Man is born to trouble.' The first sound 
 which he utters is a cry of distress ; and the path 
 on which he enters, and along which he must travel, 
 is, amidst unnumbered blessings far outweighing 
 the evils, * a valley of tears.' In sorrow he enters 
 life sorrow often wrings his heart in his passage 
 through it, and sorrow attends the twilight, and 
 closes the evening of his days. 
 
NOR PAIN IN HEAVEN. 195 
 
 Our body is the seat of infirmity and sickness. 
 Wearisome days and nights are appointed us. 
 
 * Our bones are chastened with pain, and the multi- 
 tude of our bones with strong pain.' 
 
 The mind, too, must sustain its part of the bur- 
 den. Who has not felt the pangs of regret, or 
 disappointment, or remorse ? Whose heart has not 
 l>lr<l for the distresses of others? There is a prin- 
 ciple of sympathy in our nature. It is the solace 
 and the medicine of life. It doubles our joys; it 
 lightens our toils ; it divides and lessens our sorrows. 
 
 Yet, in this imperfect state, our kind affections 
 are the sources of care and anxiety. Our happiness 
 is closely interwoven with that of others, and every 
 wound that pierces them, we feel in our own 
 bosom. Can we witness the sorrow which weighs 
 down the spirit of our friend, and not bear our part 
 of the burden ? Can we mark the slow, perhaps, but 
 unremitting progress of a consuming disease, and 
 not be filled with anxiety and apprehension? Can 
 we watch around the bed of death and behold the 
 conflict with the last enemy, even though it be met 
 with the composure of Christian resignation and 
 hope, and not feel ourselves a bitterness little less 
 dreadful than the bitterness of death ? 
 
 Our text reveals to us a country where there is 
 
 * no more pain, neither sorrow nor crying,' where 
 
 * all tears are wiped from all eyes.' 
 
 The kind affections which, on earth, were the 
 sources of anxiety and distress, will there be the 
 sources of unmingled joy. There will be room for 
 
196 THERE IS NO DEATH, NOR SORROW, ETC. 
 
 sympathy, but it will be sympathy only with the 
 happy. We may ' rejoice with them who rejoice,' 
 but to ' weep with them that weep ' is our duty and 
 our privilege only on earth. 
 
 How abundant is the consolation, my hearers, 
 which our subject brings to us when sorrowing for 
 the virtuous beloved from whom death hath divided 
 us! They shall die no more. They shall suffer 
 and sorrow no more. 
 
 Look up, by faith, Christian mourner, to heaven. 
 Enter, as thou art permitted thus to enter, the 
 abodes of the blessed. Behold their felicity. Lis- 
 ten to the sounds that strike thine ear. They are 
 the notes of joy; the accents of praise. 'Blessing 
 and glory and praise to Him that sitteth on the 
 throne, and to the Lamb, who hath redeemed us to 
 GOD, by his blood, out of every nation, and kindred, 
 and people, and tongue.' 
 
 And wouldst thou call them back to partake 
 again of thy infirmities ; to share in thy griefs ; to 
 be exposed again to the wants and sorrows of hu- 
 manity; to struggle with the temptations of an 
 evil world ; to taste again the ' bitterness of death ' ? 
 
 No ! Let thy faith console thee. Let it animate 
 thee. Let it excite thee to trace the footsteps of 
 the pious departed. Whilst it carries thee up to 
 contemplate their felicity, let it excite thee to aspire 
 after it ; to strive for it ; and, by the grace of GOD, 
 to attain it ! 
 
J97 
 
 SERMON XXX. 
 
 THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 
 
 [Preached on Easter Sunday.] 
 
 1 Corinthians, xv. 23. CHRIST THE FIKST FRUITS ; AFTERWARDS 
 
 THEY THAT ARE CHRIST'S AT UIS COMING. 
 
 MANY of our fellow Christians, the past week, 
 have set apart a day for the commemoration of the 
 death of Jesus. They have turned back the eye 
 of tln-ir faith to the awful scene of his sufferings. 
 They have accompanied him from his sorrows and 
 au'onirs in the garden, through the variety of dis- 
 grace and pain, till * he bowed his head, and gave 
 up the ghost.' They have seen him laid in the 
 tomb ; and the * stone rolled to the door of the se- 
 pulchre. 1 
 
 To-day the scene is changed. They enter their 
 churches with the voice of gladness. They have 
 seen the stone rolled away from the door of 
 the sepulchre. The tomb is empty. He whom 
 they beheld the captive of death has burst his fet- 
 ters, and come forth triumphant. They commemo- 
 rate on this day his resurrection from the dead. 
 
 It is not the rule of our church, as of theirs, 
 to celebrate the festival of Easter; but we are glad 
 17* 
 
198 THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 
 
 of every opportunity to sound a note in unison 
 with our Christian brethren. We are accustomed 
 on the first Sabbath of the month to commemorate 
 the sufferings and death of our Master, and on the 
 first day of every week we assemble, as they do, in 
 honor of his resurrection. But the resurrection of 
 Christ is the keystone of our faith, and the anchor 
 of our hope, as well of theirs, and we need never 
 hesitate to manifest, on this theme, our sympathy 
 with them. 
 
 To us, as well as to them, it is indeed a joyful 
 theme. The resurrection of Christ is the confir- 
 mation of his doctrine ; the demonstration of his 
 mission from GOD. To this he appealed as such, 
 and his predictions were fulfilled. 
 
 Our faith is not a vain and airy fabric of the im- 
 agination. It is erected on a firm and solid basis ; 
 for the resurrection of Christ, on which it is built, 
 is itself supported by incontrovertible testimony. It 
 is supported by the testimony of those who have 
 all the characteristics of credible witnesses; by 
 the testimony of friends who could not be deceived, 
 and who had nothing to gain, but every thing to 
 lose, by attempting to deceive others ; by the tes- 
 timony of enemies, who, with the utmost power in 
 their hands, and the utmost malice in their hearts, 
 were unable to allege any thing probable against its 
 truth. 
 
 I may add, with deep reverence, by the testimony 
 of GOD, who accompanied the preaching of it with 
 ' signs and wonders,' and thus procured its triumph 
 
THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 199 
 
 and advancement. It is supported by its effects on 
 the apostles themselves, who, before this event, with 
 a weak and tremulous faith, forsook their Master, 
 and after this event, asserted their belief, and their 
 attachment to him, with undaunted resolution. 
 In short, its truth is supported by a weight of 
 evidence which is sufficient, one would think, to 
 force conviction on every candid mind. 
 
 We may rejoice with our fellow Christians of every 
 name in an event which certifies the truth of our 
 common religion ; of all that it teaches concerning 
 GOD and Christ ; concerning all that has been done 
 and suffered for the deliverance and salvation of 
 sinful man. We may rejoice ; for, if we have a 
 true faith, the faith of the heart, we may have 
 4 peace with GOD through our Lord Jesus Christ.' 
 
 Nor is this all. We may rejoice with our fellow 
 Christians in an event which is a pledge that we, 
 too, shall rise again. * If Christ be risen, how say 
 some among you,' asks the apostle, ' that there is 
 no resurrection from the dead?' Our future resus- 
 citation is inseparably connected with the resuscita- 
 tion of Jesus. As he rose from the dead, we shall 
 rise. If we are his followers, certainly. If we are 
 not his followers, perhaps as certainly. The text, 
 indeed, and many other passages, appear to con fun 1 
 the resurrection to those who die in Christ But in 
 the passage before us, and the same may proba- 
 bly be said of all the others, this was all that 
 the occasion and his argument required. It is his 
 purpose to support the faith of the Christians to 
 
200 
 
 THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 
 
 whom he wrote under the discouragements and per- 
 secutions to which their profession exposed them ; 
 that they might i be steadfast, immovable, always 
 abounding in the work of the Lord.' Now, the 
 proper argument to produce this effect was such as 
 convinced them that their patience and resolution 
 should be rewarded ; that their labor should ' not be 
 in vain in the Lord.' 
 
 But that the resurrection shall be general, we 
 seem to have abundant assurance in other parts of 
 Scripture. < All that are in their graves,' says the 
 Saviour himself, i shall hear his voice and come 
 forth ; they that have done good, to the resurrec- 
 tion of life, and they that have done evil, to the 
 resurrection of condemnation.' And in this very 
 chapter, to mention no more, St. Paul infers a 
 general resurrection of Christians from the resurrec- 
 tion of Christ. 'As in Adam all died,' the just 
 and unjust, ' so in Christ shah 1 all be made alive.' 
 
 i In Adam all died.' His mortal nature descended 
 to his children. From them it has descended to us. 
 From us it will descend to the latest generation. 
 i But in Christ all shall be made alive.' 
 
 If Christ had not risen, and it had not pleased 
 GOD, in His mercy, to provide another ransom, the 
 dominion of the grave would have been eternal. 
 Nothing would have come to disturb its sleeping 
 tenants ; nothing to dispel the shadows of the long, 
 long night which enveloped them. When the in- 
 exorable doors closed upon them, it would be for- 
 ever. When they had once entered that prison-house, 
 
THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 201 
 
 there would be no escape. They would lie down 
 to rise no more. 
 
 The eyes which had once been cheered by the light 
 of day, and had gazed with rapture on the beauties 
 of nature, would be closed to open no more. The 
 ears which had been soothed and gladdened by the 
 voice of friendship and affection, would be shut to 
 open no more. 
 
 The winter of the year might pass away, as it has 
 now passed ; the spring might succeed it to clothe 
 the earth with verdure, and cause it anew to bring 
 forth and bud; but an endless winter would reign 
 in the dark domains of death. No spring would 
 come, with its genial warmth and resuscitating in- 
 fluence, to revive what had been buried there. ' There 
 might be hope of a tree, if it were cut down, that 
 it would sprout again, and that the tender branch 
 thereof would not cease.' l Though the root there- 
 of wax old in the earth, and the stock thereof die 
 in the ground, yet, through the scent of water, it 
 might bud, and bring forth boughs like a plant.' 
 * But man would lie down, and rise not,' even when 
 4 the heavens were no more.' * No, he would not 
 awake, nor be raised out of his sleep.' Generation 
 after generation might come forward and act its part 
 on the stage of life; but when the scene was shift- 
 ed, they would disappear forever. 
 
 Such would have been the triumph of death, if 
 Jesus had not risen from the grave. ' But Jesus has 
 risen, and become the first fruits of them that slept.' 
 The trump of GOD shall sound, and the fetters of 
 
202 THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 
 
 the grave shall be rent asunder. The repose of 
 the tomb shall be disturbed. ' They that sleep in 
 the dust of the earth shall awake.' At the voice of 
 the archangel, thousands, and tens of thousands, 
 shall rise to meet their Judge. 
 
 Hearer ! Art thou prepared for this scene ? It 
 may open upon thee before thou art aware. Thou 
 hast but a slender hold on life. Thy age is no se- 
 curity. Thy health is no security. The remedies 
 for disease are not infallible. The milder skies of 
 a more southern clime may not revive thy drooping 
 strength. The time is approaching, it may be 
 to-morrow or to-day, when thou must take thy 
 place with those who are laid in the grave. Art 
 thou prepared for this event ? Hast thou secured 
 an interest in Him who hath vanquished death ? If 
 Christ is the ' first fruits/ shalt thou rise afterwards 
 as one ' that is Christ's, at his coming ? ' Hearer ! 
 thou hast a deeper interest in this than I can de- 
 scribe to thee. Yes, than I could describe to thee, 
 were I to speak with any other tongue than that of 
 inspiration. Art thou living regardless of death and 
 the resurrection, and the judgment that will fol- 
 low? Art thou leaning upon the broken reed of 
 earthly good, and not upon the Rock of Ages? 
 Art thou seeking thy portion here, and neglecting 
 to lay up treasures in heaven? Oh, that I might 
 be blessed to awaken thee to a sense of thy condi- 
 tion ! to make thee feel how much thou hast to 
 gain, and how much to forfeit; to call thee back 
 from the brink of the awful precipice on which thou 
 
THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 
 
 art standing! Hear me, for I speak the words of 
 truth and soberness. Hear me, for I speak the 
 words of rarnc.-t, affectionate solicitude for thy best 
 welfare! Hear me, for I speak in the name of Him 
 who died to save thee, and who rose, and has gone 
 to intercede for thee. BY THE VALUE OF THAT 
 
 SOUL WHICH IS IMMORTAL, AND THE RETRIBUTIONS OF 
 THAT STATE WHICH IS ETERNAL, I BESEECH THEE TO 
 HEAR Mi:! 
 
204 
 
 SERMON XXXI. 
 
 KEGENERATION. 
 John iii. 3. EXCEPT A MAN BE BORN AGAIN, HE CANNOT SEE THE 
 
 KINGDOM OF GOD. 
 
 THIS declaration of our Saviour to Nicodemus 
 has been the occasion of much perplexity, and not a 
 little contention, in the Christian world. I shall be 
 happy if any thing I now say will afford satisfaction 
 to a serious inquirer. 
 
 The expression ' born again ' is evidently figura- 
 tive. It refers, not to the animal part of our nature, 
 but to the principles and dispositions of the soul. 
 In these, before a man can ' see,' or, as it is afterwards 
 expressed, * enter ' into the kingdom of GOD, a re- 
 markable change must be produced ; so great that 
 it may be compared to the change that would hap- 
 pen in the constitution of his body, if he should be 
 born again, and reduced to his former state of 
 infancy. 
 
 I have more than once discoursed to you on 
 the change that must take place in our moral 
 condition, before we are in a state of prepara- 
 tion for heaven. I have shown the importance of 
 
REGENERATION. 205 
 
 regeneration; its necessity; and how it is to be 
 effected. 
 
 But, notwithstanding this, I find with many some 
 doubts and difficulties still lingering, disturbing, if 
 not destroying, the enjoyment they would otherwise 
 derive from religion, and keeping them back from 
 the performance of religious duties. I find this 
 with some who, in their temper and conduct, are 
 giving the best evidence that they have experienced 
 this change. I find them furnishing this evidence 
 in the very anxiety they feel to be satisfied that a 
 change has been wrought in them ; for an unregen- 
 erate state, in its common acceptation, implies in- 
 sensibility to the moral condition ; or at least no 
 real desire that that condition should be altered. 
 
 They have a vague impression that their feelings 
 and views must be different from what they now 
 are : that a sensible, perceptible change must take 
 place ; and t hat t hey must patiently wait till it pleases 
 HIM who ' turneth the hearts of men, as the rivers of 
 waters are turned,' to turn their hearts from sin to 
 holiness, from earth to heaven. 
 
 They are right in supposing that this change is 
 required. Both reason and Scripture teach its ne- 
 cessity. 
 
 The infant of days, though the inspiration of 
 the Almighty has given it understanding, is ap- 
 parently a creature of sense and appetite. Its in- 
 tellect is dormant; there is the germ of knowledge, 
 but it is not unfolded ; and how great is the change 
 which will take place, when the powers are devel- 
 
 VOL. IT. 18 
 
206 
 
 REGENERATION. 
 
 ration. Every important acquisition is an important 
 oped and cultivated. It is an intellectual regene- 
 change. 
 
 The infant of days is a moral being. It has a 
 capacity for virtue and holiness. But what indi- 
 cations are there of virtue and holiness, in its infant 
 state ? There is the germ of virtue, but it is dor- 
 mant ; how great a change, a partial new 
 birth, will take place when its moral sense is in 
 exercise, and its moral character formed ! If, by 
 the blessing of GOD on a pious education, it is 
 formed to piety, it will be a change from a state of 
 nature to a state of grace. 
 
 If evil habits have been contracted, and repent- 
 ance awakened, and reformation effected, it will be 
 a change from a state of sin to a state of grace. 
 
 In the one case the change will be more sudden, 
 and more perceptible and palpable, than in the 
 other. In both cases a change has taken place ; 
 and the change of state which now exists, is a 
 necessary change. A state of grace is a state of 
 holiness ; and * without holiness no man can see 
 the Lord.' 
 
 And here is the evidence of the existence of this 
 state. It is not a supernatural revelation ; an ex- 
 traordinary impulse ; an indescribable feeling or 
 sensation, which gives the evidence. We have the 
 * witness in ourselves,' in the temper of our 
 minds, and the tenor of our conduct. c If ye 
 know that He is righteous, ye know that every one 
 that doeth righteousness is born of Him ! ' If the 
 fruit is good, the tree must be good. If the stream 
 
REGENERATION. 207 
 
 is pure, the fountain must be pure. Grapes do not 
 grow on the thorn-tree, nor figs on the thistle. 
 
 At noon-day we have no doubt of the existence 
 of the sun, though it may be obscured by clouds. 
 In the light which surrounds us, we see and feel 
 the effect, though we behold not the cause. 
 
 It is thus when the Sun of Righteousness has 
 shone into the heart. We perceive it in the vivify- 
 ing influences ; in the light which it imparts ; in the 
 virtues and graces to which it gives life, and strength 
 and activity. 
 
 Here, I think, is an answer to those who inquire 
 if they must not know the precise time and manner 
 of their being first enlightened and renewed. You 
 p< rcrive and feel the effect of the wind, and you 
 know little more than this. You speak your native 
 language, and you have thus a proof that you have 
 learned it; but who of you can remember the time 
 and manner of its acquisition? 
 
 It may be thus in religion. If you perceive the 
 effect in yourselves, you need not doubt the cause. 
 If you have * the testimony of your own conscience, 
 that in simplicity and godly sincerity you have your 
 conversation in the world,' it may be to you a cause 
 of ' rejoicing,' as it was to the apostle; for it is an 
 evidence that you are a child of GOD. * The fruit 
 of the Spirit is in all goodness and righteousness 
 and truth.' If you have the testimony of your con- 
 science that you are better than you have been ; that 
 you are more serious and thoughtful about religion 
 than you were, and more anxious to fulfil its requi- 
 
208 
 
 REGENERATION. 
 
 sitions, a change has taken place in you ; and thus 
 far, you are regenerated. 
 
 If you have been converted from vice and wick- 
 edness to virtue and holiness, you must have strong 
 convictions, and fears, and pangs of remorse ; and 
 these must be objects of remembrance as long as 
 you live. But here the effect must be gradual. 
 Conviction is not conversion. You are on the 
 brink of a precipice, and have been arrested ; but 
 you must go back ; painfully retrace your steps ; 
 enter on a new and safer path, and pursue it. 
 
 You have much to unlearn, and much to learn. 
 You have bad principles to eradicate, and good 
 principles to gain. You have bad habits to discard, 
 and good habits to acquire. 
 
 You have come to GOD ; but you must ' acquaint 
 yourself with GOD.' You are awakened to the 
 necessity of righteousness ; but you must ' follow 
 after righteousness.' On the other hand, if you 
 have had early instruction in piety, and profited by 
 it ; if, like the disciple and convert of St. Paul, you 
 have been taught the Scriptures from your child- 
 hood, and by the grace of GOD have learned and 
 practised them, you may not remember the com- 
 mencement of the spiritual life ; though you must 
 remember much of unworthiness, and must still be 
 conscious of it. 
 
 I have used the terms a state of nature, and a 
 state of grace, in conformity with the language of 
 the Christian World. It is language familiar to 
 many of you. The question, What is our moral 
 
REGi:.\KKATin\. 
 
 state by nature? is rather curious than useful. The 
 most important inquiry is, What we are by prac- 
 tice? what is our present state? 
 
 It is thought by many that we are depraved by 
 nature: and that the conviction of this depravity 
 should occasion penitential sorrow. There is much 
 cause for penitential sorrow, if we have corrupted our 
 own ways and made ourselves sinful. We are not 
 accustomed to repent of the natural deformity of our 
 persons, or of any tendency to debility or disease 
 which we have inherited from our progenitors. If, 
 by our own misconduct, we have brought these evils 
 upon ourselves, there is cause indeed for sorrow, 
 though sorrow may be unavailing. 
 
 It is thus with our moral condition. If we are 
 sinners by nature, it is not of ourselves that we are 
 so. If we are sinners by practice, it is our own 
 fault, and we cannot too deeply repent, or too dili- 
 ijently engage in reformation. 
 
 It is supposed by some that the declaration of 
 our Saviour in the text, has reference to those who 
 would become converts to Christianity, and be re- 
 ceived into the kingdom he had come to establish 
 on earth, which is often designated in Scripture, as 
 the * kingdom of GOD ; ' that when he said * Except 
 a man be born again, he cannot enter the kingdom 
 of GOD/ he alludes to the radical change which must 
 take place in the principles and dispositions of those 
 who should embrace his religion. 
 
 Tliis opinion certainly receives countenance from 
 a declaration in a subsequent verse. ' Except a 
 18* 
 
210 REGENERATION. 
 
 man be born of water and of the Spirit,' that is, 
 except he receive the ordinance of baptism, which 
 is the initiatory rite, and be possessed of a spiritual 
 temper, he cannot become a member of the Chris- 
 tian church. It is also supposed to receive counte- 
 nance from the fact, that the same phrase l born 
 again ' is used by the Jews in reference to those 
 who had become converts to Judaism ; which may 
 account for the surprise expressed by our Saviour, 
 that Nicodemus, who was a Jew, should not at 
 once have comprehended him. ' Art thou a master 
 in Israel, and knowest not these things ? ' 
 
 To conclude. A change, then, must take place 
 from a state of nature, to a state of grace and 
 holiness. The evidence of this change is to be 
 found in our disposition and conduct. This change 
 is regeneration. It is effected gradually ; and to 
 many, its commencement may not have been known- 
 In effecting it there must be a union of human 
 labor and divine illumination j the Spirit of GOD 
 rendering effectual the efforts of man. 
 
 Let us examine ourselves, my hearers, to see 
 whether this change has taken place in us. If not, 
 let us pray for it, and labor for it. 
 
 If we desire it, it has begun ; and it is by the 
 use of means, with GOD'S blessing, that it is to be 
 carried on to perfection. 
 
211 
 
 SERMON XXXII 
 
 PHILIP AND THE ETHIOPIAN. 
 
 Acts viii. 37. ir THOU BELIEVEST WITH ALL THY HEART, THOU 
 MATEST. 
 
 I HAVE read to you this afternoon the history of 
 the conversion of the treasurer of Ethiopia through 
 the instrumentality of Philip the Evangelist. 
 
 It presents us an instance of candor and diligence 
 in the investigation of truth, and of the efficacy of 
 religion in promoting the happiness of those who 
 embrace it. 
 
 The Ethiopian was already a convert to Judaism ; 
 and had come up to Jerusalem, at the season of 
 one of the great festivals of the Jewish church, to 
 worship. His Bible was the companion of his 
 journey. 
 
 In order to preserve alive the flame of devotion 
 which had been kindled in his breast by the holy 
 services of the temple in Jerusalem, as he return- 
 ed, he read, in his chariot, the book of the pro- 
 phet Isaiah. 
 
 The Providence of GOD, which watches over all 
 
PHILIP AlS f D THE ETHIOPIAN. 
 
 events, had, doubtless, directed the subject of his 
 reading, and now sends an interpreter. 
 
 The evangelist Philip, driven by persecution 
 from Jerusalem, was travelling in the desert, and 
 was directed by the Spirit of GOD to join himself 
 to the Ethiopian treasurer, who was reading the 
 fifty-third chapter of Isaiah when the evangelist 
 joined him. 
 
 It is a remarkable chapter, apart from the im- 
 portance of its momentous subject, so remarka- 
 ble, that I shall digress, for a moment, to dwell 
 upon it. 
 
 It is a prophecy of the sufferings and death of 
 the Messiah; but, from the form of expression, 
 assumes much the appearance of a history of those 
 events. 
 
 < Wrapt into future times,' in the spirit of pro- 
 phecy, the scene comes up so vividly to the pro- 
 phet's view, that it appears as if the fearful tragedy 
 was enacted before him. He seems to forget 
 himself, and changes the form of expression from 
 the future to the present tense. i He is despised 
 and rejected of men ; a man of sorrows, and ac- 
 quainted with grief.' 
 
 The whole scene passes before him. The pa- 
 tient sufferer, ' led as a lamb to the slaughter,' is 
 crucified and slain. The scene closes, and the 
 prophet speaks of it as a thing gone by. ' Surely 
 he hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows. 
 He was wounded for our transgressions, and 
 bruised for our iniquities ; the chastisement of our 
 
PHILIT AND THE ETHIOPIAN. '2 1 o 
 
 peace was on Him, and by his stripes we are 
 healed. All we like sheep have gone astray ; and 
 the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us 
 all. He was oppressed and he was afflicted, yet 
 he opened not his mouth ; he is brought as a lamb 
 to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers 
 is dumb, so he opened not his mouth. He was 
 taken from prison and from judgment; and who 
 shall declare his generation ? for he was cut off out 
 of the land of the living ; for the transgression of 
 my people was he stricken. And he made his 
 grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his 
 death ; because he had done no violence, neither 
 was any deceit in his mouth. Yet it pleased the 
 Lord to bruise him ; He hath put him to shame. 7 
 
 The Ethiopian asks from Philip an explanation 
 of the prophecy, and receives it. 
 
 He listened with meekness and candor to the 
 instructions of the evangelist; became a convert to 
 Christianity, and 'went on his way rejoicing.* 
 
 No portion of Scripture could have furnished a 
 more appropriate text for the expounder, and, if it 
 had not already employed the attention of his dis- 
 tinguished pupil, he would have done well to begin 
 'at this same Scripture* when he would * preach to 
 him Jesus.' 
 
 We have not even an abridgment of Philip's ex- 
 position. 
 
 We may suppose, however, that he discoursed of 
 the nature and offices of Christ; of the design of 
 his coming into the world ; and of the influence 
 
214 PHILIP AND THE ETHIOPIAN. 
 
 which his religion ought to exert upon the hearts 
 and lives of those who should embrace it. 
 
 It is evident that he instructed him in the nature 
 of one, at least, and probably of both, the institu- 
 tions of Christianity, for, as soon as he is a believer, 
 he desires to receive the badge of discipleship, and 
 to be received to the Christian community by the 
 rite of baptism. * See, here is water, what doth 
 hinder that I should be baptized ? ' 
 
 The reply of Philip was such as we might have 
 expected it would be : c If thou believest with all 
 thy heart, thou mayest.' 
 
 We then have his profession of faith. And 
 what is it? Does it consist of a long enumeration 
 of articles such as in later times have often been 
 made the condition of Christian communion ? Far 
 from it. < I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of 
 GOD.' 
 
 We are all the children of GOD. We were 
 created by Him; we bear His image, however 
 defaced by transgression. 
 
 But more than this, far more than this, was 
 intended by this confession. 
 
 By the phrase ' Son of GOD ' was understood, by 
 the Jews, the Messiah foretold by the prophets ; the 
 Redeemer ; the Saviour. ' We have a law,' said the 
 Jews to Pilate, * and by our law he ought to die, 
 because he made himself the Son of GOD,' that is, 
 because he made himself the Messiah, the prophet 
 that was to come. 
 
 So familiar was this appellation of the Son of 
 
PHILIP AND THE ETHIOPIAN. 215 
 
 GOD who was expected, that the Romans were 
 not ignorant of it. The centurion, and they that 
 were \\ith him, attending the crucifixion of Jesus, 
 when they saw the earthquake, and those things 
 that were done, exclaimed, 'Truly this was the Son 
 of GOD.' 
 
 Such was the confession of this new believer; 
 and from this confession we may judge of the 
 nature of Philip's preaching. 
 
 On its being made, they alighted from the chariot, 
 and went down into the water, both Philip and the 
 Ethiopian, and he baptized him. 
 
 The words in this passage rendered * into ' and 
 * out of,' might, with as much propriety, have been 
 rendered to and from; and have actually thus been 
 rendered, by the same translators, in other parts of 
 Scripture. It is of small importance, however, 
 whether the Ethiopian received this rite by immer- 
 sion, as it is adini nisi* -red by the Antipedo Bap- 
 tists, ( the opposers of infant baptism,) or sprinkling, 
 as the Pedo Baptists administer it, or by affusion, 
 as is practised by the Greek Church. 
 
 It is not the form, but the thing signified by that 
 form, that is of importance. 
 
 Our religion was designed to be universal ; and its 
 institutions, in their simplicity, in the fewness of 
 their number, and in the want of any special direc- 
 tions as to the mode of administering them, are 
 adapted to that design. 
 
 Whatever mode, under existing circumstances, is 
 
216 PHILIP AND THE ETHIOPIAN. 
 
 the most convenient, and desirable, is the most 
 proper. 
 
 Baptism by immersion could not ordinarily be 
 administered to the sick or the aged, in the midst of 
 winter, without hazard to the life of the recipient ; 
 and we can conceive of various circumstances 
 which might render that mode of administering it 
 inexpedient, or impracticable. 
 
 For myself, I am free to say that I have not a 
 bigoted attachment to our own mode; but am 
 willing to use either. 
 
 It appears, then, that the belief which is requisite 
 in order to admission to the Church of Christ, 
 for it is by baptism, and not by a reception of the 
 Lord's Supper, that we are admitted to that Church, 
 is an assent to the fact, that Jesus Christ is the 
 Son of God, the promised Redeemer. 
 
 How much is included in this character of Jesus, 
 why he came, and what he hath done for us, it is 
 for each one to satisfy himself by a diligent study 
 of his Bible. 
 
 But is an assent to the simple truth that Jesus 
 Christ is the Son of GOD, the only requisite to our 
 participation of Christian privileges, and of all the 
 blessings of that salvation which the Redeemer has 
 1 purchased with his blood ' ? Is not * repentance 
 towards GOD,' as much required as 'faith in the 
 Lord Jesus Christ ? ' Was not this the uniforrrt 
 language of our Saviour, and his apostles? and 
 is it not expressly declared that ' without holiness, 
 no man shall see the Lord ? ' 
 
 If we revert to the language of Philip in the 
 
PHILIP AND THE ETHIOPIAN. 217 
 
 text, we shall find it in perfect harmony with those 
 declarations ; as indeed ah 1 the declarations of Scrip- 
 ture are really in harmony with one another. * If 
 thou believest with all thy heart, thou mayest.' 
 'It is not enough that thou yieldest the assent of 
 thy understanding to the fact that Jesus is the 
 Messiah ; thou must yield also the assent of thy 
 heart ; thou must feel this important truth, in order 
 to thy being a true disciple of Jesus, and worthy of 
 admission to his kingdom.' 
 
 This, rny friends, is not the least important, nor 
 the least difficult part of religion. The truth of 
 our religion is built upon the most solid foundation. 
 It is impossible, one would think, for any one to 
 examine, with candor, its evidence, and refuse his 
 assent. 
 
 But it is one thing to acknowledge the truth of 
 Christianity, and another to feel its influence. 
 c With the heart man believeth unto righteousness,' 
 and then with 'the tongue maketh confession unto 
 salvation.' 
 
 We may have * faith enough to remove moun- 
 tains,' and zeal enough to become martyrs for our 
 faith: and yet maybe destitute of that faith and 
 zeal which will render us acceptable to GOD. * Not 
 every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall 
 enter into the kingdom of heaven, but he that 
 doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven.' 
 
 The faith required, is a 'faith that workeih by 
 love ; ' a faith that produces the fruits of righteous- 
 ness ; a faith that makes us more humble ; more 
 
 VOL. II. 19 
 
218 
 
 PHILIP AND THE ETHIOPIAN. 
 
 self-denying ; more forgiving ; more patient ; more 
 submissive ; more devout ; more ready to do, and 
 suffer, the will of God. 
 
 Such is the faith which will render us the true 
 disciples of the blessed Jesus, for such was his 
 character; and it is a faith of more worth than 
 an assent to the longest creed that was ever drawn 
 up, however wise the head, or pious the heart that 
 framed it. 
 
 How often have I witnessed the operation of 
 this faith on those who knew nothing of systems 
 of theology which have unhappily divided and 
 distracted the Christian world; who knew only 
 that their Bible was the Word of God; who found 
 in that a Saviour ; and, however rugged the path of 
 their pilgrimage of life, like the Ethiopian treasurer, 
 went on their way rejoicing. 
 
 May it be ours to possess the same faith, that we 
 may be partakers of the same joy ! 
 
219 
 
 SERMON XXXIII. 
 
 CHARGE AT THE INSTALLATION OF A MINISTER. 
 
 IN the solemn hour of retirement, my brother, 
 you have meditated on the nature and importance 
 of the sacred office. When bowing your knees 
 to ' the GOD and Father of our Lord Jesus 
 -t,' you have felt and acknowledged your in- 
 sufficiency. With unutterable emotions you have 
 looked forward to the day when you should be in- 
 vested with the pastoral office, and intrusted with 
 the care of immortal souls. 
 
 That day, the day to which so many anxious 
 thoughts had been turned, and on which so many 
 ardent, yet trembling hopes were suspended, at 
 length arrived. You became a minister of Jesus 
 Christ ; the pastor of a Christian church. 
 
 You do not come hither, a novice, to be instructed 
 in the rudiments of ministerial duty. You have 
 already been invested with the sacred office; you 
 have received the solemn charge ; you have had the 
 care of immortal souls, and you come here fraught, 
 in some measure, with the lessons of experience. 
 
220 
 
 CHARGE AT AN INSTALLATION. 
 
 Why, then, should I take upon me to teach you 
 what you may be supposed already to know ; to 
 inculcate duties you have already been called to 
 fulfil ? 
 
 ; They that feared the Lord spake often one to 
 another,' and it can never be unsuitable for Chris- 
 tians, and especially for Christian ministers, < to stir 
 up each other's minds, by way of remembrance.' 
 
 More especially is it appropriate on an occasion 
 like the present ; and much does it add to its 
 solemnity and impressiveness for an elder to ex- 
 hort a younger brother ; for one around whom the 
 shadows of evening are beginning to descend, to 
 admonish him who has labored only in the morning, 
 and has not yet borne ' the burden and heat of the 
 day.' 
 
 My charge to you might be comprehended in 
 ( two words. Be faithful. Faithful to GOD who 
 has put you into the ministry ; and, amidst conflict- 
 ing doubts respecting duty, has overruled, as we 
 trust, your decision, and sent you to labor in this 
 vineyard ; faithful to the souls, which, in this solemn 
 hour, are committed to your care ; faithful to your- 
 self, who have been endowed with ministerial gifts, 
 and must render an account of the manner in which 
 you employ them. 
 
 Whatever of active duty, whatever of private 
 study, whatever of meditation, watchfulness and 
 prayer, is requisite to this end, neglect not. 
 
 'Take heed to your ministry that you fulfil it;' 
 to your instructions, that they be ' drawn from the 
 
CHARGE AT AN INSTALLATION. 221 
 
 oracles of God ; to your example, that it be * such 
 as becometh the gospel of Christ.' 
 
 Belong to no theological party, as such. What- 
 ever opinions you may hold in speculative theology, 
 be careful to inculcate religion, and let your life be 
 a transcript of the holy doctrine you teach. 
 
 Like the eastern shepherds, lead your flocks. 
 Mark, with your own footsteps, the path to heaven. 
 Remember that ' Holiness to the LORD' was the in- 
 scription on the breast-plate of the high priest, who 
 was appointed by GOD. 
 
 Visit from house to house. You have the ex- 
 ample of an eminent apostle for this. You have 
 the example of your Lord and Master for it. l He 
 went about doing good.' 
 
 Twice, at least, every year, and I care not how 
 much oftener, where it can be done to good purpose, 
 and not encroach on necessary duties, twice every 
 year have affectionate ministerial intercourse with 
 every family in your charge. Let your stated visits 
 always, and your occasional visits as much as pos- 
 sible, serve for edification. Carry the message which 
 you have received, as an ambassador for Christ, into 
 every house. It is your duty, and, I now say it 
 in the hearing of your people, it will be a bless- 
 ing to them if you do so. 
 
 Be often, when the providence of GOD calls you 
 to it, ' beside the bed where parting life is laid.' Be 
 especially attentive to the sick and sorrowful. In 
 the alarming hour, when the shades thicken, and 
 1 the feet stumble on the dark mountains,' be you 
 
 19* 
 
222 
 
 CHARGE AT AN INSTALLATION. 
 
 at hand to counsel, to warn, to console, as the occa- 
 sion may require; to point the sinner to the awful 
 retributions of eternity, and to open, on the eye of 
 faith, the bright visions of heaven. 
 
 In the hour of affliction, when a pillar of support 
 has failed ; when vain hopes deceive no longer ; 
 when every proud, rebellious passion is silenced; 
 when a cloud hangs over the world; when every 
 avenue to the heart is open, be you at hand to 
 pour instruction and consolation into the bleeding 
 spirit. 
 
 In the season of spiritual distress, when the ' ter- 
 rors of the Lord' set themselves in array against 
 the guilty, or when despondency and despair take 
 hold on the timid, feeble soul, be you at hand to 
 apply the healing balm to the wounded conscience ; 
 to administer strength to ' the weak hands, and 
 feeble knees, and fearful in heart.' 
 
 Be thus the confidential counsellor, the affection- 
 ate, sympathizing friend of your people ; rejoicing 
 in all their joys, and in all their afflictions afflicted, 
 that when i the eye sees you it may bless you, and 
 when the ear hears you it may bear witness to 
 you.' 
 
 To this end, give yourself wholly to the work. 
 1 Be instant, in season and out of season.' ' Watch 
 for souls, as one that must give an account.' 
 
 Thus we charge you. Before this assembly who 
 are the witnesses of this solemn transaction ; before 
 the angels who are ministering spirits to the church 
 of GOD ; before GOD and the Lord Jesus Christ, 
 
CHARGE AT AN INSTALLATION. 223 
 
 who shall judge the quick and dead at his appear- 
 ing, we charge you. 
 
 By the mercies of GOD ; by the blood of Christ 
 which was shed for the redemption of a sinful 
 world ; by the worth of your own soul, and of these 
 precious immortal souls which are intrusted to your 
 ministerial watch and guidance; by the solemnities 
 of this occasion, and the vows of GOD that are upon 
 you ; we charge you to * take heed to this ministry,' 
 to Hake heed to yourself.' 
 
 In tli is day, when our churches are rent by di- 
 visions, when 'the love of many has waxed cold ;' 
 when the voice of the scoffer is heard, * Where is 
 the promise of his coming V when the book of 
 nature and the book of grace are so often reading 
 their heavenly lessons in vain; when the under- 
 staiidinir. which is itself an impress of the divinity, 
 is employed in denying the Inspiration that gave it; 
 when freedom of thought and action is tending to 
 licentiousness; how much have the ministers of 
 religion to do, even to bear up, under GOD, the ark 
 of the Lord. How much more to bring into, and 
 keep in it, from the beast of prey, from the noisome 
 pestilence, from the whelming flood of ungodliness, 
 the immortal souls committed to their care! 
 
 Whilst you think of these things, does not l the 
 fire burn within you?' and will it not impel you 
 utiK -( i vedly, laboriously, zealously, to devote your- 
 self to this good cause, this high and holy call- 
 ing? 
 
 It is known neither to you nor me, what trials 
 
224 
 
 CHARGE AT AN INSTALLATION. 
 
 are before you. l Fear God,' and you will have 
 nothing else to fear. 
 
 It must needs be that you will have occasion 
 often to adopt the plaintive language of the prophet, 
 4 I have labored in vain and spent my strength for 
 nought ; ' that some seeds will ' fall by the wayside 
 and be trodden under foot of men,' some among 
 thorns, ' and be choked ; ' some ' upon a rock, where 
 there is no depth of earth *; ' but it will also be that 
 of that which fell by the wayside, some will be 
 pressed into the earth, and will not die ; of that 
 which fell among thorns, some will not be choked, 
 but swell and unfold itself ; and that that which fell 
 on a rock will find a crevice where there is good 
 soil, and will germinate and bring forth fruit unto 
 everlasting life. ' If we hope for that we see not, 
 then do we patiently wait for it.' The husbandman 
 tarrieth long, and is patient for the early and the 
 latter rain. 
 
 Be thou also patient, and thy labor will not be 
 in vain in the Lord. In due time you will reap, if 
 you faint not. i Be faithful unto death, and you 
 will receive a crown of life.' 
 
 Go forth, then, my brother, in the name and 
 strength of the Lord. Long may you live, ap- 
 proving yourself faithful; and, having finished your 
 course with joy, have many of this people, their 
 children, and the children yet to be born, as your 
 joy and crown in the day of Christ's appearing. 
 
225 
 
 SERMON XXXIV. 
 
 TUB LORD'S SUPPER. 
 Matthew xxvi. 31. THEN SAITH JESUS UNTO THEM, ALL YE SHALL 
 
 BE OFFENDED BECAUSE OF ME THIS NIGHT J FOR IT IS WRITTEN, 
 I WILL SMITE THE SHEPHERD, AND THE SHEEP OF THE FLOCK 
 SHALL BE SCATTERED ARROAD. 
 
 I CONSIDER these words as worthy of particular 
 notice ; not merely as containing a prediction which 
 was literally fulfilled, but as connected! with the 
 commemorative rite which had just been observed ; 
 and with the character, and subsequent conduct of 
 those who had received it at the hands of Jesus 
 Christ. 
 
 The words were spoken after, and probably im- 
 mediately after, the institution of the Lord's Sup- 
 per, which had been administered by Jesus himself 
 to his disciples. 
 
 I say to his disciples. It is probable, however, 
 that Judas had gone out, and that eleven only were 
 present. Indeed, Judas was excluded by the very 
 terms of the institution, as he was soon by his own 
 act, and this was well known to our Saviour, 
 to render himself incapable of partaking of it. 
 
226 
 
 To eleven of the disciples, then, Jesus himself 
 gave it in charge to commemorate him in the ordi- 
 nance of the Supper ; and, immediately after, fore- 
 warned them that they would all desert him at a 
 time when he would stand most in need of their 
 presence and support. 
 
 4 All ye shall be offended because of me this 
 night ; for it is written, I will smite the Shepherd, 
 and the sheep shall be scattered abroad.' 
 
 It was the night of his agony. It was the night 
 of his apprehension, when he was to be betrayed 
 into the hands of his enemies ; and, in this night, 
 they whom he had chosen from among the multi- 
 tude of mankind to be his associates and friends, 
 were to forsake him, to leave him to suffer alone. 
 One of them, and he, too, the most ardent in his 
 protestations of attachment, was to deny, with 
 asseverations and oaths, that he knew him. 
 
 Such were the first celebrators of the Lord's Sup- 
 per. Such were they to whom the Saviour admin- 
 istered the ordinance with his own hand. 
 
 I present them thus to you, my hearers, not, as 
 you must well know, as, in this respect, examples, 
 in as far as they can be, for those who come 
 after them ; not as an encouragement to communi- 
 cants to be inconsistent in their conduct with their 
 profession ; no ! but to show that, at the com- 
 mencement, as it is now, and must always be, they 
 who joined in this rite were frail, erring mortals ; 
 weakest when they relied most on their strength ; 
 and betrayed into danger and sin by their own con- 
 fidence of safety. 
 
227 
 
 These are facts which, one would suppose, would 
 serve to quiet many of the apprehensions that are 
 1'rlt on this subject; and to correct the impression 
 thai ;i thorough, radical change must take place in 
 the character before we may venture to partake of 
 the Lord's Supper; that an entire victory over the 
 world must be obtained ; and a habit of self-denial 
 confirmed. 
 
 Did our Saviour require this ? Why then did he 
 admit the disciples to the first celebration of the 
 ordinance, and enjoin them to continue to observe 
 it in memory of him ? 
 
 Had such a change taken place in the disciples ? 
 Had they obtained this victory over the world ; this 
 habit of self-denial; this self-devotion to Christ, 
 and his religion ? 
 
 So far from it, that we find that almost in the 
 same breath with which he appointed this celebra- 
 tion, he admonished them of their fall. 
 
 Aware of their weakness and danger, for the 
 same reason that he exhorted them to watch and 
 pray, he instituted this memorial ; to revive in their 
 minds, when he should be no longer with them, the 
 recollections of his instructions, and his life ; all 
 that he had done, and all that he had suffered for 
 them. 
 
 It was appointed, not for those who had already 
 attained, but for those who were still struggling 
 with temptation and sin; who had much to do, 
 and had need of much aid to enable them them to 
 do it. It was a staff to support them ; a panoply 
 
22S 
 
 to protect them ; a monitor to guide and quicken 
 them, in their pilgrimage of duty and trial. 
 
 True, they were to forsake him in the time of his 
 greatest need; they were to forsake him at the 
 moment when he was most strikingly exhibiting his 
 love for them; but the time would come when 
 these simple, yet expressive emblems of his ' body 
 broken and his blood shed ' for them, would speak 
 to their hearts in a language which could not be 
 resisted. The time would come when these simple 
 emblems would fill them with shame and sorrow 
 for their weakness and cowardice, in basely desert- 
 ing him ; and nerve them with strength and courage 
 to follow him to prison and to death. 
 
 Such was, doubtless, the design of this ordi- 
 nance. An instrument of spiritual good. The 
 means, and not the end. 
 
 It was Jesus who appointed it ; and to him, and 
 those who were instructed immediately by him, we 
 must look for information respecting its nature and 
 design. 
 
 The language of Jesus, in its institution, is, 
 4 This do in remembrance of me.' The language 
 of an apostle who received it from him, is, ' as 
 often as ye eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do 
 shew forth the Lord's death till he come ; ' lan- 
 guage, I may remark, that indicates the intended 
 perpetuity of the rite. 
 
 The Lord's Supper, then, is simply a memorial of 
 Jesus Christ. Divested of the load which human 
 expositions have laid upon it; stripped of the 
 
THE LORD'S SUPPER. 229 
 
 appendages with which human ingenuity and 
 superstition have arrayed it; it is nothing more nor 
 less than a commemoration of the sufferings and 
 death of Jesus Christ. It is a history conveyed by 
 sensible objects to the eye, which, of all the senses, 
 has the quickest commerce with the soul. It is a 
 lively picture, presenting to mankind, in all ages, a 
 rej ) resent at ion of the most interesting transaction 
 that has ever taken place ; and in which all man- 
 kind have a deep concern. 
 
 From our natural weakness and levity, we often 
 forget, and often receive with indifference, the most 
 important truths which are addressed to our un- 
 derstandings through the medium of language only, 
 without the aid of sensible signs. 
 
 M<n in nil ages, indeed, have been so fully aware 
 of this, that they have always employed some 
 sensible sign to perpetuate the remembrance of 
 splendid achievements, of memorable events, of 
 important services to themselves and their country. 
 Hence the statues, the public monuments, the 
 solemn festivals; designed to speak to the eyes, 
 and to move the soul through the channel of the 
 senses. 
 
 Too often, it is true, these ceremonies have 
 only served to consecrate the vices, and the pride of 
 men ; the ravages of conquerors, who were the dis- 
 grace and scourge of the earth. But the principle 
 is founded in our nature, in the feelings of our 
 hearts, which need to be excited by sensible objects. 
 
 We have here the reason for the institution of 
 VOL. ii. 20 
 
* 
 
 230 
 
 the Lord's Supper. It was unquestionably the 
 design of our Saviour, as I have intimated, to pre- 
 sent in this institution, a complete, though hasty, 
 picture of all he had done and suffered for us. 
 
 The bread broken, and the wine poured out, 
 which signify nothing of themselves, are visible 
 symbols of his body broken and his blood shed for 
 us. 
 
 We are so constituted that the objects which call 
 up one idea to the mind, call up a train of relative 
 and dependent ideas. They are often presented at 
 once, or in a succession so rapid that they cannot 
 be perceived; and affect us the more sensibly that 
 they come thus together, and not by repeated efforts 
 of the mind. 
 
 The smallest relic of a once valued friend calls 
 up a history to remembrance on which the heart, 
 however much it may be agonized, delights to 
 dwell. 
 
 It is thus with the Lord's Supper. These sym- 
 bols are tokens of love that were left us by our 
 Lord Jesus Christ. How visibly and impressively 
 do they bring to the mind and heart of the thought- 
 ful communicant the affecting history, the beneficent 
 design, and the momentous consequences, of the 
 incarnation of his Lord and Saviour ! How pow- 
 erfully do they excite to feelings of sympathy and 
 love towards fellow communicants, fellow Chris- 
 tians, all mankind ; to penitential sorrow, and 
 resolutions of holy living ! 
 
 In the first ages of the Church, all Christian 
 
231 
 
 believers were communicants. The Lord's Supper 
 was a positive institution of Christianity, and it 
 would have been deemed a great inconsistency for 
 believers in Christianity to neglect any of its insti- 
 tution-. 
 
 The Lord's Supper made a part of the religious 
 service of the first day in the week. A description 
 of this service is given by an early father of the 
 Church, and, as it may gratify you, I repeat it. 
 
 4 On the day called Sunday, all of us meet in 
 one place, where the writings of the apostles and 
 prophets are read; exhortations are given; psalms 
 and hymns are sung ; and we offer our joint prayers. 
 Then bread and wine are brought, and after repeat- 
 ed prayers by the president, to which the people 
 answer amen, it is distributed through the congre- 
 gation, and alms are collected for the use of the 
 poor.' 
 
 * The reason,' he adds, * why we all meet on 
 Sunday, is. that this is the first day when GOD 
 < re; i led the world, and on which our Saviour Jesus 
 Christ rose from the dead.' 
 
 Such was the obedience of the first Christians to 
 the rules of the Gospel, though this obedience was 
 punishable with death. 
 
 As it was in the beginning of Christianity, so it 
 should be now. All Christian believers should be 
 communicants, and thu< manifest their consistency, 
 as well as their gratitude and love to Him whose 
 name they bear, by their obedience. 
 
 If love the most disinterested demands a return ; 
 
232 
 
 if benefits the most substantial give a claim to grati- 
 tude ; if authority the most exalted has a right to 
 obedience ; then is Jesus Christ entitled to the love, 
 gratitude, and obedience of Christians. 
 
 All those who believe in Christ, then, I repeat it, 
 should be communicants. It is a public avowal of 
 their faith in Christ, and it is fit that they should 
 thus ' confess him before men.' It is an act of 
 obedience to his positive command, the last 
 charge he left upon his Church before he suffered. 
 It is an observance of an institution, eminently 
 adapted to promote the spiritual benefit of those 
 who observe it. 
 
 Christian believers should come to the Lord's 
 Supper, not hastily and inconsiderately, but with 
 serious preparation of heart, with deep repentance 
 for sin, and earnest purposes of holy obedience. 
 They come to commemorate him who gave his life 
 a sacrifice for sin; and they should come with a 
 ' godly sorrow which worketh repentance.' They 
 come to commemorate benefits of inestimable 
 worth ; and they should come with fervent gratitude 
 and strong affection. They come to commemorate 
 the most pure and holy Being that ever appeared on 
 earth ; and they should come with the resolution to 
 transcribe into their own life, as far as they can, the 
 lineaments of the spotless character they are to 
 contemplate in this ordinance. 
 
 Christian believer ! If thou art not a communi- 
 cant, reflect, I beseech thee, on the inestimable 
 blessings which Christianity has conferred upon 
 
233 
 
 thee, and then ask thyself, whether He, who de- 
 scended from ineffable glory in heaven, and became a 
 suffering pilgrim on earth to bring thee these bless- 
 ings, who lived and died to save thee, is not 
 entitled to thy obedience, and worthy of thy 
 commemoration in this ordinance of his own ap- 
 pointment. 
 
 Look ut thy condition, and contrast it with that 
 of the benighted heathen, the slave of superstition, 
 worshipping the work of his own hands, or the 
 vilest reptiles, or beings whom he has invested with 
 the most terrific and disgusting attributes, and whom 
 he seeks to appease by the most degrading rites. 
 
 Art thou a parent ? And why is it that thou art 
 
 'not doing violence to the feelings of thy nature by 
 
 saeri tiring thy children to some imaginary deity, 
 
 unrelenting, revengeful, who will be propitiated 
 
 only by the blood of these innocent victims ? 
 
 Art thou a man ? And why is it that thou art 
 permitted to assert thy native dignity, and to culti- 
 vate the noble powers with which the Creator has 
 endowed thee; and how is it that thou art enjoying 
 the blessings of eivilixation and rational liberty? 
 
 Art thou a woman ? And how is it that thou 
 art elevated from the low and servile state in 
 which unenlightened heathenism has placed thee, 
 to be the companion and the friend of man ? 
 
 Art thou a sinner ? And where dost thou find 
 
 thy hope of mercy ? Art thou the heir of sorrow, 
 
 and where dost thou look for consolation? Art 
 
 thou mortal, and what is it that has dispelled 
 
 20* 
 
234 THE LORD'S SUPPER 
 
 the darkness which enveloped the ' valley of the 
 shadow of death ? ' Art thou immortal, and where 
 hast thou learned thy nature and thy destiny ? 
 
 There is but one answer to all this ; and if thou 
 art faithful to thy own convictions, Christian be- 
 liever, it is the answer thou wilt give to thyself. 
 4 It is Christianity which has made me to differ from 
 the poor benighted heathen. It is Christianity 
 which has elevated me to my present condition; 
 saved me from doing cruel violence to the feelings 
 of my nature by the immolation of my offspring 
 on the altar of superstition ; informed me how I 
 may obtain mercy and find forgiveness ; opened to 
 me a source of consolation ; dispelled the darkness 
 of the grave ; taught me that I am immortal, and , 
 may aspire after an immortality of blessedness.' 
 
 Why art thou not now, then, manifesting thy 
 gratitude by thy obedience? Why art thou not 
 performing this service in memory of Him who has 
 done so much for thee ? a service which He himself 
 enjoined, standing, as it were, on the* verge of the 
 grave, in the close of a life devoted to thy best 
 interests ; the interests of human kind. 
 
 Hast thou received the ordinance of baptism?' 
 Thou art then a member of the Church of Christ, 
 and consistency requires of thee not to neglect a 
 positive institution of that Church. Art thou con- 
 scious of sin? Repent and come to the Lord's 
 table, that thou mayest be strengthened and con- 
 firmed in thy repentance. 
 
 Hast thou any fears of mysteries to alarm thee ? 
 
Come and discover that there are none. Dost thou 
 suffer affliction ? Come and behold the sufferings of 
 Him who was *a man of sorrows and acquainted 
 with grief,' and who drank with meek submission a 
 cup of sorrow, far more bitter than can be mingled 
 for thee; and learn of Him to be patient and 
 resigned. Hast thou friends who love thee, and 
 would do thee good? Come learn, more and 
 more, to requite them by kind offices. Hast thou 
 enemies who would injure thee? Come, and from 
 the contemplation of his example, who on his cross 
 prayed for his murderers, learn to forgive and bless 
 them. Art thou happy? Come and testify thy 
 gratitude. Art thou unhappy ? Come, weary and 
 heavy-laden, to Him, who will give thee rest. 
 
236 
 
 SERMON XXXV. 
 
 THE FOUNDATION OF EVERY ACCEPTABLE RELIGIOUS 
 SERVICE. 
 
 1 Cor. V. 8. LET US KEEP THE FKAST, NOT WITH THE LEAVEN OF 
 
 MALICE AND WICKEDNESS, BUT WITH THE UNLEAVKNKD BREAD OF 
 SINCERITY AND TRUTH. 
 
 WE have in these words, addressed by a Chris- 
 tian apostle to his Christian converts, the foundation 
 of every acceptable religious service. It does not 
 consist in much or little speculative knowledge of 
 the doctrines of the gospel; in the manifestation 
 of much or little zeal in the dissemination of 
 Christian truth ; in the greater or smaller number 
 of our religious exercises. It does not consist in 
 belonging to any one of the numerous parties into 
 which the kingdom of Christ is divided. It is 
 found in all these parties, and is wanting in all. It 
 is sincerity. 
 
 When we lift our voice in prayer to GOD, it is 
 sincerity, and this alone, which gives it efficacy. 
 It is not to the language that GOD has respect. It 
 is not to the length. It is not to the earnestness and 
 
RELIGIOUS SERVICE. 237 
 
 fervor. We may cull the choicest expressions : Hi 
 may dress up our thoughts in the most beautiful 
 language ; we may utter a 1 multitude of words ; we 
 may have a /nil which, like that of the Psalmist, 
 may seem to c consume us/ and all be of no 
 avail. 
 
 On the contrary, we may use the most homely 
 phrases: we may utter a single sentence; we may 
 breathe a sigh; and a prayer will go up to Heaven, 
 and return in blessings upon us. 
 
 The prayer, which is of no avail, is the prayer of 
 thoughtlessness, or of hypocrisy. The sacrifice is 
 indeed laid upon the altar ; it may be richly adorned, 
 but there is no fire to consume it. The prayer 
 which is heard and answered, is the prayer of sin- 
 c> ritij. It is the prayer which is offered under a 
 deep sense of the greatness and majesty of GOD, 
 and is therefore a reverent and humble prayer. It 
 is the prayer which is offered with a deep convic- 
 tion of the wisdom of GOD, and is therefore a sub- 
 inissivr prayer. It is the prayer which is oil'ered 
 with a lively sense of the goodness of GOD, and is 
 therefore a grateful prayer. It is, finally, the prayer 
 which is offered in the recollection of the iiiiimie 
 purity and holiness of GOD, and His utter abhor- 
 rence of .-in. and i> therefore a contrite pr 
 AVith no other dispositions than these should we 
 pray, and, praying with these dispositions, we shall 
 not fail to be heard. 
 
 1 do not mean that when we pray for temporal 
 blessings, we shall always receive what we ask. 
 
238 THE FOUNDATION OF EVERY 
 
 GOD is wiser than we are, and may know that what 
 we ask is not what is best for us. But I mean that 
 our prayers will never be unavailing, for they will 
 bring us to a nearer acquaintance with GOD, 
 secure to us a larger portion of his grace and favor, 
 and if our request is denied, we shall be prepared 
 to submit and adore. 
 
 In every religious service in which we are en- 
 gaged, sincerity is equally important. We may 
 come up to worship GOD, in the church, twice or 
 thrice on the Sabbath, yes, every day in the week ; 
 our demeanor may be grave and serious, but with- 
 out sincerity it will avail us nothing with GOD. < If 
 we regard iniquity in our heart, GOD will not hear 
 us.' The service which is acceptable, is that of the 
 heart. ' GOD is a Spirit, and they who worship Him 
 must worship Him in spirit and in truth.' 
 
 I mention one other service, and it is that to 
 which our text may appear to have special refer- 
 ence, the service which is commemorative of our 
 Saviour's death. In this, as in every other, it is 
 sincerity alone which constitutes its value in the 
 sight of GOD. It is not our assent, with the 
 fullest persuasion of its truth, to the longest creed 
 that has ever been written. It is not our detail, 
 with whatever minuteness, of our religious experi- 
 ences ; it is not our solemnity ; it is not our tears ; 
 which make us worthy communicants. It is our 
 coming from a conviction that it is our duty to 
 come, in obedience to the will of Christ, and in 
 commemoration of Him. It is our coming with 
 
ACCEPTABLE RELIGIOUS SERVICE. 239 
 
 sorrow for our past sins, and with resolutions of 
 amendment. It is our coming with gratitude for 
 our spiritual bit -. mirs, and with a resolution, by the 
 grace of GOD, to improve them. In this, I re- 
 peat, as in every other service, it is sincerity alone 
 which constitutes its value in the sight of GOD. 
 Without the dispositions I have mentioned, we 
 should not come. With these dispositions we may 
 come, and shall come with acceptance. There is 
 nothing to repel the approach of any one who has 
 a sincere desire to honor and obey the Saviour. 
 For such there is a place provided, and we will bid 
 them welcome. 
 
 Are they sensible of unworthiness ? So are we. Are 
 1 1 11 y surrounded by temptations in the world ? So are 
 we. And therefore we have come ; and therefore we 
 bid them come also. Sensible that we are sinners, we 
 come to Chri>t, the Saviour of sinners. Sensible 
 of the temptations of the world, we come to the in- 
 stitution GOD has appointed, that we may acquire 
 additional strength to meet and overcome these 
 temptations. It is one of the means which GOD 
 has appointed to make us better, and we thankfully 
 use it. We are sure it will do us no harm. It is 
 our hope and our prayer that it may do us good. 
 
 In this hope, in regard to our fellow Christians, 
 who desire to be better, and are laboring by the 
 grace of GOD, to become so, we invite them to join 
 with us in this memorial of our common Lord. We 
 desire only sincerity; a sincere purpose of holy 
 obedience. Of this sincerity, we are not conslitii- 
 
240 THE FOUNDATION OF EVERY 
 
 ted the judges. There may be a pompous profes- 
 sion which is hollow and insincere ; and on the 
 other hand, there may be a silent, unostentatious 
 performance of duty, which has the sanction of 
 conscience, and the approbation of GOD. 
 
 They take upon themselves a fearful responsibil- 
 ity who, by creeds and confessions, by forms and 
 ceremonies, by any mode of human device, prevent 
 a single sincere conscientious Christian from com- 
 plying with the dying injunction of his Lord and 
 Master. What ! Shall the command to do this be 
 given by the Saviour, and reiterated by his apostles, 
 and shall a Christian minister, or a Christian 
 church, assume and exercise the right of prevent- 
 ing a humble believer from obeying this com- 
 mand ? On whom, in this case, will the blame 
 of disobedience rest? Not on him, surely, who 
 comes, with every appearance of sincerity, and 
 asks for admission, and is forbidden. No ! But 
 on those who forbid. 
 
 I have said that sincerity is required ; and sin- 
 cerity implies an earnest endeavor to be, and to do, 
 all that our religion demands of us. If we have not 
 yet attained to the full position of this desire, it is 
 not a reason for our keeping back from the Lord's 
 Supper. It is a reason for our coming, that we 
 may avail ourselves of the influence which this or- 
 dinance is adapted to exert on our character and 
 conduct. 
 
 When our Saviour first gave it to his disciples, 
 he knew that they were far from having attained. 
 
ACCEPTABLE RELIGIOUS SERVICE. 241 
 
 He knew that they would all desert him when he 
 stood most in need of their sympathy, and that one 
 of them would disown him ; but he gave them 
 these memorials in token of his affection, as the 
 future means of reminding them of their ingratitude, 
 and of prompting them to watchfulness and prayer. 
 St. Paul, too, reprehends the conduct of his Co- 
 rinthian converts whilst partakin!_ r . in an irreverent, 
 unworthy manner, of the Lord's Supper, for they 
 made it a drunken and riotous feast ; but he does 
 not forbid their participation of it. He would have 
 them partake with seriousness, and self-exami- 
 nation. * Let a man examine himself, and so let 
 him eat of that bread and drink of that cup.' 
 
 I. us examine ourselves, Christian communi- 
 . ' Let us keep the feast, not with the leaven 
 of malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened 
 bread of sincerity and ///////.' Amen ! 
 
 VOL. II. 21 
 
242 
 
 SERMON XXXYI. 
 
 THANKSGIVING. 
 Psalms 1. 14. OFFER UNTO GOD THANKSGIVING. 
 
 THE various duties of religion are not equally easy 
 to be fulfilled. They require more or less exertion ; 
 higher or lower degress of fortitude and resolution, 
 greater or smaller sacrifices, according to the differ- 
 ent circumstances in which we are placed. 
 
 Sometimes there is a favorite passion to be sub- 
 dued, which often appears to ' gain fresh strength 
 from fresh opposition,' and therefore requires un- 
 wearied attention, and new and painful efforts. 
 
 Sometimes there is an injury to be forgiven which 
 has mortified our pride, and wounded our sense of 
 honor; an enemy to be loved and regarded as a 
 brother, although the heart may, at first, revolt 
 against him, and we are promptgd to turn away 
 from him in horror. 
 
 Sometimes the dearest wordly interests, pro- 
 perty, liberty, life, are to be immolated on the 
 altar of religion. 
 
 It is no such trial of fortitude, and forbearance, 
 and self-command, it is no such relinquishment of 
 our worldly interests, that is now required at our 
 hands ; although when religion calls, even for such 
 
THANKSGIVING. 243 
 
 exertions, and such sacrifices, we must be ready to 
 make them, and, however painful the effort, it will 
 be abundantly compensated by the reward. 
 
 We come here to-day, my hearers, to perform a 
 duty at once natural and delightful; to offer, on the 
 altar of gratitude, the oblation of grateful hearts. 
 
 Yes, for it is not the voice of authority, merely, 
 that bids us open our churches, and enter to pay our 
 vows at the shrine of gratitude. It is the voice 
 that speaks within us, and tells us what we are; 
 and what we have; and what we hope; and bids 
 us acknowledge, with humble, fervent adoration, 
 that all is of GOD. 
 
 Childhood, as it sports in happy thoughtlessness, 
 has been taught to think of GOD who makes it hap- 
 py. Youth, as it treads the path of knowledge and 
 listens to the voice of instruction, is taught to think 
 of GOD who gives it the power to be wise. Man- 
 hood, as, with thoughtful, anxious brow, it toils in 
 its vocation, remembers GOD, who crowns its labors 
 with his blessing. Old age, as it bends its feeble 
 steps to the grave, remembers GOD who has * car- 
 ried it even to gray hairs,' and has not failed it 
 when its strength has failed. 
 
 And childhood, and youth, and manhood, and old 
 age come up together to pour their votive offering 
 on religion's altar. 
 
 I would fain believe that it is the impulse of the 
 heart which brings them hither, and bids them trace 
 the hallowed footsteps of their fathers to the house 
 of GOD. 
 
244 
 
 THANKSGIVING. 
 
 They are here, expecting, perhaps, to have their 
 emotions portrayed in language, and brought home 
 again to their bosoms with renewed and quickened 
 energy. 
 
 But how shall this expectation be answered ? The 
 full heart cannot utter its own feelings, and how can 
 it describe the feelings of others ? 
 
 It can < muse in silence, and the fire will burn,' 
 but cannot speak of all that GOD has done for itself 
 and for those whom it would impress with a deeper 
 sense of obligation. 
 
 Language is too imperfect and feeble, the lan- 
 guage of angels is too imperfect and feeble, to tell 
 the number or value of the benefits of GOD. 
 
 It is a love unspeakable, inconceivable, that has 
 been manifested in our creation ; in the preservation 
 of life and in its innumerable blessings ; and, above 
 all, far above all, in the redemption that has 
 been wrought out for us through the mediation of 
 Jesus Christ. 
 
 Nature, with her unnumbered tongues, proclaims 
 through all her works, the goodness of her Author ; 
 but religion speaks it in tones of yet deeper inter- 
 est. ' HE spared not His own Son, but gave him 
 up to the death for us all. And He that spared not 
 his own Son, shah 1 he not with Him also freely give 
 us all things ? ' 
 
 Look within you, intelligent, immortal beings, and 
 by the light which GOD has kindled in your breasts, 
 read your obligations. 
 
 Look around you, objects of the Divine care and 
 
THANKSGIVING. 245 
 
 kindness, and in the rich provision that is made for 
 your happiness, read your obligations. 
 
 Look above you, Christians, candidates for the 
 heavenly glory, and in the hopes which religion in- 
 spires, in the prospects which religion unfolds, read 
 your obligations. 
 
 In your deliverance from danger and calamity; 
 in your restoration from sickness and distress ; in 
 the consolation which has been imparted to you in 
 the hour of sorrow ; in the brightness of that favor 
 which has dispelled the gloom that surrounded you ; 
 in the prosperity of your handiwork, and the blessing 
 which has been vouchsafed upon your honest in- 
 dustry ; in your family enjoyments, and the heart- 
 felt comfort arising from the closer and more endear- 
 ing connections of life ; in the^assistance you have 
 received from others, and in the benefits by which 
 you have been enabled to repay them ; read your 
 obligations. 
 
 You may feel them in every sensation. You 
 may hear them in every breath. Every sensation 
 should be a grateful one, and every breath should 
 be praise to GOD. 
 
 Look abroad upon the earth, my hearers, and 
 contrast your condition with the condition of those 
 who are enveloped in the darkness of heathenism; 
 or covered with the sable mantle of superstition ; or 
 groaning under the yoke of tyranny ; or subjected 
 to hard and burdensome exactions which deprive 
 them of a large portion of the hard-earned fruits of 
 their labor. 
 
 21* 
 
246 
 
 THANKSGIVING 
 
 Then look back upon your own condition, enjoy- 
 ing the benign light of Christianity ; possessed of a 
 free constitution ; and scarcely sensible of the bur- 
 then of sustaining the government which protects 
 you, and the administration of the laws which 
 secure to you the possession of your rights and 
 privileges. 
 
 Again look round upon the earth ; and compare 
 your condition with the condition of those who are 
 enduring the miseries of war; the bare recital of 
 which is enough to freeze the blood, and harrow up 
 the soul. 
 
 Behold a Christian nation, associated with our 
 earliest and most interesting recollections; among 
 whom the first of uninspired poets sang, the 
 most eloquent of orators declaimed ; and the chief 
 of the apostles taught the knowledge of the only 
 true GOD, struggling to break the yoke of bondage, 
 and resume their rank among the nations of the 
 earth, but struggling as yet in vain. Their country 
 laid waste ; its inhabitants butchered, or worse than 
 butchered, the victims of lust and avarice. 
 
 Who can read without shuddering, the fate of 
 Scio and Cyprus ? Who, without indignation, can 
 hear this Christian people lifting up their supplicat- 
 ing voice for help, and not one Christian arm ex- 
 tended for their defence and rescue ? 
 
 From this scene of horror turn your view to your- 
 selves ; and how great is the contrast ! 
 
 Instead of the sound of the trumpet and the 
 alarm of war ; scenes of blood and carnage ; villages 
 
THANKSGIVING '2 17 
 
 in flames, and fruitful fields converted into a barren, 
 friirln ful waste ; you hear the sounds of busy indus- 
 try; witness the peaceful scenes of domestic com- 
 fort; behold hamlets increasing into villages; villages 
 rising into cities; and the hand of cultivation chang- 
 ing the barren waste into a fruitful field. 
 
 Confine your intention to your own country, and 
 contrast your condition with that of those on whom 
 are entailed the evils of slavery ; a miserable inherit- 
 ance to the enslaver, and a monstrous injustice and 
 cruelty to the enslaved; an institution which disre- 
 LT i rd s the tenderest charities of life ; sets at nought the 
 most sacred relationships, if, indeed, they be per- 
 mit ted to exist at all ; and, deaf to the cries of nature 
 pleading for forbearance and compassion, ruthlessly 
 tears asunder husband and wife, parent and child, 
 to be bought and sold, and driven about like the 
 beasts of the field. 
 
 I have visited the land of slavery, and I deem it 
 appropriate in this connection, and on this day of 
 thanksgiving, to repeat a part of what I said to you 
 on my return from that visit. 
 
 " I have travelled through a country which exhib- 
 its much that is sublime and beautiful; with a cli- 
 mate milder than ours ; a rich, luxuriant soil ; and 
 inhabited by a people intelligent and hospitable? 
 but I have returned contented, far more than con- 
 tented, to our blessed New England, though cold 
 its climate and hard its soil, whose fields are 
 sown and tilled, and reaped by the hands of free- 
 men. 
 
248 THANKSGIVING. 
 
 " I have witnessed many of the evils and miseries, 
 though by no means all the horrors of slavery ; its 
 deleterious effect on the intellectual and moral pow- 
 ers ; its debasing, palsying influence on the energies 
 of the body and the mind. 
 
 " I have witnessed the consequent imperfect, mis- 
 erable cultivation of the soil, and the destitution of 
 those comforts which are enjoyed by our hardy and 
 industrious yeomanry. 
 
 " I have witnessed, too, what is certainly a con- 
 comitant, if it be not a result, of the unwise and 
 unrighteous institution to which I have referred. I 
 mean the evils of the want of a proper system of 
 education ; of the establishment of parochial schools, 
 and the means of early instruction which we pos- 
 sess. 
 
 " Above all, I have seen and felt the want of the 
 means of religious instruction ; of the public insti- 
 tutions of religion ; or rather the scanty measure 
 in which they are enjoyed through the extensive 
 country I have visited. 
 
 " How much did I miss, in my journeying, the 
 4 heaven directed spire,' which adds so much to the 
 interest and beauty of New England scenery ; and 
 denotes the observance of rites which are essential 
 to the real welfare of any people. 
 
 " If there is a sceptic among you as to the 
 important uses and value of public worship, I 
 should want no better means for his conviction 
 than to place him where they are not enjoyed. 
 
 I have mentioned these things, my hearers, not 
 
THANKSGIVING. 249 
 
 surely to institute an invidious comparison, but to 
 excite emotions of gratitude to Him 'who has 
 made us* thus * to differ' from our less favored 
 brethren. They are evils which the wise and good 
 among them much deplore. Let us not forget that 
 to whomsoever much is given, from them will much 
 be required." 
 
 Once more. Look at the condition of those, 
 whether at home, or abroad, who are subject to the 
 visitations of 'the pestilence that walketh in dark- 
 ness, and the destruction that wasteth at noonday ;' 
 and then turn to your own condition, breathing a 
 pure and wholesome atmosphere, and exempt, in a 
 great measure, from the influence of those malig- 
 nant diseases to which they are subjected. 
 
 Author of our Being! Giver of all our blessings! 
 Accept our grateful thanks. Fill us with a livelier 
 sense of thy mercies, and help us, more and more, 
 to live to thy glory. 
 
 Thus, my hearers, in the recognition of past and 
 nt mercies; in the anticipation of higher good ; 
 and in the exercise of grateful emotions, should we 
 spend this day. 
 
 Blessed day! for all the recollections it has 
 
 awakened, and all the devotion it has kindled, and 
 
 all the happiness it has brought with it, and will 
 
 still awaken and kindle and brim,' with it, till it 
 
 es to be numbered with the days of the year. 
 
 blessed day ! It brings with it too many person- 
 al recollections, too many associations intimately 
 blended with our tenderer feelings, entwined 
 
250 
 
 THANKSGIVING. 
 
 about the closest fibres of the heart ; not to be re- 
 garded with deep interest, whether it come in joy, 
 or whether it come in sadness. With it may come 
 the living, on whom affection reposes, and with it 
 must come the departed, on whom memory dwells. 
 
 It is the day, of all the days in the year, which 
 brings together the past and the present ; the days 
 that now are, and the days that have long gone by ; 
 the friends with whom we still hold converse, and 
 the friends with whom our spirits only can mingle. 
 
 Blessed day ! Our fathers honored it, and we 
 will honor it. Our fathers rejoiced in it, and we 
 will rejoice in it. Our fathers hallowed it, and we 
 will consecrate it to the purposes of thanksgiving. 
 Children and youth ! even now, though with me 
 the frolicsome days of childhood and the ardent, 
 glowing season of youth are past, I sympathize 
 with you in your happiness on the return of this 
 day. 
 
 Be thankful if you are permitted to enjoy it with 
 your parents and those who are most dear to you ; 
 and when you are older, if GOD should spare you 
 to be older, and those parents are no' longer with 
 you, be thankful for the sources of happiness you 
 may then possess, as well as for those which, if you 
 have been virtuous, memory will bring to you. 
 
 Be careful so to spend your early and mature life 
 that you may look back upon those days, and call 
 up those friends to remembrance, without the pangs 
 of self-reproach. 
 
 And may we all thus be thankful. By the piety 
 
THANKSGIV1V-. '.!"> I 
 
 of our lives, may we all testify our gratitude to 
 HIM who has i^ivcu us life, and crowned it with His 
 mrrcy. 
 
 Offer unto God thanksgiving*. 
 
 Norshould this brail. Piety should bring its offer- 
 ing of charity, and diffuse the happiness for which it 
 renders praise. Grateful itself for the blessings of 
 an indulgent Providence, it should give to others, as 
 far as may be, the same motives of thankfulness 
 which itself possesses. If it is truly grateful, it will 
 not tail to do so. 
 
 ' The poor,' said that compassionate Saviour 
 whose office and delight it was to do good, to 
 lighten the burthens, and soothe the sorrows of the 
 heavy laden, * the poor ye have always with you ;' 
 and in saying this, he spoke volumes to the heart 
 of sensibility, or rather to the heart that feels its 
 obligations and responsibility as a Christian. 
 
 Go, then, my people, seek for the abodes of 
 misery ; bind up the broken-hearted ; smooth the 
 pillow of sickness, and bear up the departing spirit 
 on the wings of your prayers. 
 
 Go, * eat the bread, and drink the sweet, and send 
 a portion to them who have nothing.' 
 
 But, ere you go, leave here your gift before the 
 altar, and then go and perform these works of mercy. 
 
 Let that gift be as large and generous as your 
 circumstances will permit. It will not be misap- 
 plied. I pledge myself that it will not be misap- 
 plied. 
 
 It will open a stream which will flow in upon the 
 
252 
 
 THANKSGIVING, 
 
 dry and barren soil of indigence, and refresh and 
 make it fruitful. It will shed a gleam of comfort 
 upon hearts which have few such gleams to cheer 
 them. And it will come back to you in the sweet 
 consciousness of well-doing. It will come back to 
 you in the remembrance of the happiness you have 
 conferred. It will come back to you in the appro- 
 bation of HIM who, having heard the sigh of the 
 miserable, has witnessed the bounty which con- 
 verted it into an ascription of thanksgiving. 
 
SERMON XXXVII. 
 
 ON TAKING THOUGHT FOR THE MORROW. 
 Matthew vi. 25, 26, 28, 29, 30, 31. TIIEREFOKE i SAT UNTO YOU, 
 
 TAKE NO THOUGHT FOR YOUR LIFE, WHAT YE SHALL EAT, OR WHAT 
 YE SHALL DRINK ; NOR YET FOR YOUR BODY, WHAT YE SHALL PUT 
 ON. IS NOT THE LIFE MORE THAN MEAT, AND THE BODY THAN 
 RAIMENT ? 
 
 BEHOLD THE FOWLS OF THE AIR : FOR THEY SOW NOT, NEITHER DO 
 THKV REAP, NOR GATHER INTO BARNS} YET YOUR HEAVENLT 
 FATHER FEEDETH THEM. ARE YE NOT MUCH BETTER THAN THEY ? 
 
 AND WHY TAKE YE THOUGHT FOR RAIMENT ? CONSIDER THE LILIES 
 OF THE FIELD, HOW THEY GROW J THEY TOIL NOT, NEITHER DO 
 THEY SPIN. 
 
 i I SAY INTO YOU, THAT EVEN SOLOMON IN ALL HIS GLORY WAS 
 NOT ARRAY t:i> I. IKK ONE OF THESE. 
 
 WHKI:I-:EORE IF GOD so CLOTHE THE GRASS OF THE FIELD, WHICH TO- 
 DAY IS, AND TO-MORROW IS CAST INTO THE OVEN, SHALL HE NOT 
 MUCH MORE CLOTHE YOU, O YE OF LITTLE FAITH ? 
 
 THEREFORE TAKE NO THOUGHT, SAYING WHAT SHALL WE EAT ? OR, 
 WHAT SHALL WE DRINK ? OR, WHEREWITHAL SHALL WE BE CLOTHED ? 
 
 THERE are a few passages in the New Testament 
 which appear to inculcate an entire dependence 
 upon Providence, without any exertion of our 
 own, for the supply of our temporal wants. The 
 injunction is without any qualification : * Take no 
 thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye 
 
 VOL. ii. 28 
 
254 ON TAKING THOUGHT FOR THE MORROW. 
 
 shall drink ; nor yet for your body, what ye shall 
 put on.' 
 
 These passages have often been misunderstood 
 and perverted. They have sometimes furnished 
 indolence an excuse for neglecting to make provis- 
 ion for the future ; or misguided zeal with a reason 
 for the same improvidence. 
 
 Happily for them, others have not felt themselves 
 bound to so literal a compliance with the precept ; 
 or they would soon have felt the truth of the 
 apostle's warning, ' HE THAT WILL NOT WORK, NEI- 
 THER SHALL HE EAT.' 
 
 To many serious minds, these injunctions have 
 occasioned uneasiness and perplexity. The requi- 
 sition was positive, yet impracticable. How far 
 must it be followed, and how far could obedience 
 with safety be dispensed with ? To sceptical minds 
 they have furnished food for ridicule ; or, at least, 
 weapons for assailing the truth of revelation. 
 
 Let not the idle and indolent imagine that they 
 have any foundation in these passages whereon to 
 build their hopes of exemption from labor. 
 
 Let not the serious be apprehensive whilst they 
 are seeking for a competence, or even wealth, in the 
 path of virtuous industry, that they are acting in 
 opposition to the precepts of their Saviour, and the 
 will of their GOD, 
 
 Let not the sceptical suppose that they have 
 found in these instructions weapons for assailing, 
 or instruments for undermining the truth of our 
 religion. No. The explanation of these passages 
 
ON TAKING THOUGHT FOR THE MORROW. 
 
 255 
 
 is easy and satisfactory. They may be understood 
 literally, without any impeachment of the wisdom 
 of their Author or His divine authority. 
 
 The fact is, that with their original interpretation 
 we have no concern. They were not addressed to 
 us, but to the immediate disciples of our Lord ; a 
 part of whom, at least, had already been selected 
 to preach his gospel, and their circumstances were 
 very different from ours. * And seeing the multi- 
 tude, he went up into a mountain ; and when 
 he was set, his disciples came unto him, and he 
 taught them? 
 
 They were going forth to propagate a new relig- 
 ion. It was important that they should give their 
 entire, undivided attention to the work. At first, 
 they were not to be stationary, but were to go about 
 from place to place to sow the seeds of divine truth ; 
 in the faith that, if 'some seed fell by the way- 
 side,' and * some in stony places/ and l some among 
 thorns, yet some would assuredly l fall into the good 
 soil of an honest heart, and germinate, and bring 
 forth fruit.' 
 
 They were to give themselves wholly to the work. 
 They would, therefore, have no opportunity to labor 
 for their subsistence ; and they could not be careful 
 about the means of subsistence, without a desertion, 
 so far, of their sacred employment. 
 
 They had * cast away their fishing nets,' and were 
 going forth to be ' fishers of men.' They had re- 
 linquished the prospect of worldly wealth, if they 
 ever enjoyed it, and were to look for a reversion 
 in heaven. 
 
256 
 
 ON TAKING THOUGHT FOR THE MORROW. 
 
 HE who sent them out on an errand of love and 
 mercy, would make provision for the supply of their 
 wants. 
 
 As HE required them to be sequestered entirely 
 from the busy concerns of the world ; they were en- 
 couraged to cast themselves upon the protection and 
 support of His Providence. 
 
 HE heard the ravens cry, and cared for the fowls 
 of the air ; and would ' He not much more care for 
 them,' intelligent, immortal beings, engaged in His 
 service ? 
 
 The plants of the earth, the lilies of the field were 
 warmed into life by His sun, and were nourished 
 by the dews and the rain from heaven, and how 
 much were they better than these ! 
 
 Yes, HE who commissioned them, would provide 
 for them. The workman was worthy of his meat ; 
 and care would be taken that that meat should be 
 given him. 
 
 In this confidence, they went forth without hesi- 
 tation. And well they might; for the same voice 
 which warned them that they were to ' go as sheep 
 among wolves,' addressed them in the soothing 
 language of encouragement. ' Fear not, little flock, 
 it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the 
 kingdom.' 
 
 It is thus that we are to understand the passages 
 to which I have referred, and with which our text 
 is connected. The common explanation that our 
 Saviour did not mean that they should be inter- 
 preted literally, is not satisfactory. The language 
 
ON TAKING THOUGHT FOR THE MORROW. 257 
 
 is as explicit as language can be ; and the circum- 
 stances vindicate its propriety. 
 
 It is true, that in some of the passages the origi- 
 nal will perhaps admit of a different translation. 
 4 Take no thought for the morrow,' for example, 
 might perhaps have been rendered * take no anxious, 
 distressing thought;' for the words maybe under- 
 stood as implying restless solicitude ; and ' to-mor- 
 row ' may be interpreted according to the Eastern 
 phrase, as meaning all the^ time to come, however 
 distant. 
 
 There is often a force in the original which can- 
 not be given in our language without using terms 
 which convey a still stronger meaning. 
 
 When our Saviour would express the far greater 
 strength of the affection which must be felt for him 
 than even for a parent, he uses a phrase, which, in 
 the translation, conveys a very different meaning 
 from that which he intended to convey. l Except 
 a man hate his father and mother, he cannot be my 
 disciple.' 
 
 In the passage we are now considering, it is 
 evident that our Saviour intended his disciples to 
 understand that they were to cast themselves and 
 their cares on GOD. They were to * take no money 
 in their purse, neither two coats, neither shoes nor 
 yet staves.' 
 
 In the spirit of the injunction we are doubtless 
 to find a lesson of moral instruction for ourselves. 
 
 To us they must be understood as forbidding the 
 care about the future which is attended with dis- 
 22* 
 
258 ON TAKING THOUGHT FOR THE MORROW. 
 
 trust, uneasiness and despondence. Such a care as 
 engrosses, dejects, and distracts the mind. It forbids 
 also a vain and useless curiosity about the issues of 
 things which are in the hands of GOD. It forbids 
 that provision for the present world which would 
 make us forget that we were designed for another. 
 
 The religion of the Bible is a liberal, enlightened 
 system. It recommends a stated abstraction from 
 the business of life ; the consecration of the seventh 
 part of our time, as much as possible, to the special 
 duties of religion. It recommends retirement from 
 the world, for the purpose of self-examination, and 
 the exercise of those pious affections which are due 
 to our GOD ; but it does not require that the exer- 
 cises of piety, usually so called, shall constitute our 
 whole, or even chief employment. 
 
 It addresses itself to men as engaged in the busi- 
 ness of active life ; sanctions their honest employ- 
 ments by its inculcations to industry, whilst, at the 
 same time, it admonishes them to carry into every 
 employment the fear of GOD. 
 
 The interpretation I have given of this discourse 
 of our Saviour is strengthened, indeed I may 
 say confirmed, by the passage in St. Luke, where 
 a part of these admonitions to his disciples is 
 repeated. 
 
 Our Saviour illustrates and enforces his admoni- 
 tions to his disciples, by pointing their attention to 
 the fowls of heaven, and the flowers of the field. 
 ' Behold the fowls of the air ; for they sow not, 
 neither do they reap, nor gather into barns ; yet your 
 
ON TAKING THOUGHT FOR THE MORROW. 259 
 
 Heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much 
 
 better Th:ill thr\ > 
 
 And why take ye thought for raiment? Con- 
 sider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil 
 not, neither do they spin. And yet I say unto you, 
 that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like 
 one of these. Wherefore if GOD so clothe the grass 
 of the field, which to-day is and to-morrow is cast 
 into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, 
 O ye of little, faith ? Therefore take no thought, 
 saying what shall we eat? or what shall we drink? 
 or wherewithal shall we be clothed ? ' 
 
 In the same school of nature, we may read lec- 
 tures of heavenly wisdom, and gain improvement 
 in the virtues of the Christian life. We may learn 
 dependence on Providence and gratitude. We may 
 learn from these humble instructors what many of 
 the philosophers could not teach us, that we are 
 not only the constant, but peculiar care of GOD; 
 and that if a sparrow does not fall to the ground 
 without Him, much more are not we unnoticed and 
 unprotected by His Providence. 
 
 We may learn, too, from the fragile and perish- 
 ing plant, how precarious is our existence; how 
 momentary our duration on earth. 
 
 Nor is this all. We may learn that life \\ ill rise 
 out of death and corruption; that \ve -hail spring 
 from the grave like the seed which is buried in the 
 ground; and be invested with a brighter and more 
 glorious raiment than the lilies of the field in all 
 their beauty. 
 
260 ON TAKING THOUGHT FOR THE MORROW. 
 
 Such knowledge as this is open to all. It grows 
 in every field, and meets us in all our paths. 
 At this beautiful season, when, from the frequent 
 showers which have visited and refreshed the earth, 
 nature retains, even in summer, the verdure and 
 freshness of spring ; we can find it on every page 
 of the book of nature which is spread out before 
 us. 
 
 GOD is visible in all his works. In silent majesty, 
 or beauty, or utility, they praise HIM. 
 
 It is by man that their songs of praise should have 
 intelligent utterance. 
 
 * GREAT AND MARVELLOUS ARE THY WORKS, LORD 
 GOD ALMIGHTY ; IN WISDOM THOU HAST MADE THEM 
 ALL. THE EARTH IS FULL OF THY RICHES.' 
 
261 
 
 SERMON XXXVIII. 
 
 TEMPERANCE. 
 1 Corinthians, ix. 25. TEMPERATE IN ALL TIIINGS. 
 
 THERE is a, crusade against intemperance, in its 
 common acceptation, and there should be. It is a 
 holy war. I am habitually for peace, but this is a 
 war fa re in which I can conscientiously and earnestly 
 beseech you to engage. 
 
 The vice of intemperance, in this sense, cannot 
 be portrayed in colors too dark and appalling. It 
 is brutish, loathsome; the parent of sloth, and neg- 
 ligence, and want; of ill-humor, contention and 
 murder; infamy, disease and death; destructive 
 alike to the powers of body and soul; to present 
 peace and future happiness. 
 
 It is the most dangerous of all vices, for it puts 
 its miserable victim into the power of every other 
 vice. It is nor. therefore, a single vice, but like the 
 evil spirit of whom we have a record in the gospels, 
 1 its name is legion.' 
 
 It inflames the blood; disturbs the head; per- 
 
262 
 
 TEMPERANCE. 
 
 verts the heart; and when the blood is inflamed, 
 the head disturbed, and the heart perverted, what is 
 there to prevent its miserable slave from becoming 
 a prey to every temptation, and every folly in life? 
 
 ' Who hath woe ? Who hath sorrow ? Who 
 hath contention? Who hath babblings? Who 
 hath wounds without cause? They that tarry 
 long at the wine ; they that seek mixed wine. At 
 the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an 
 adder.' 
 
 The strong man of the Chouse being bound, the 
 passions arise like robbers, and rifle his goods. 
 Reason, the monarch of the soul, being, for a time, 
 dethroned, the subjects spend themselves in the 
 work of anarchy, and many a step has been taken, 
 and many a deed done, the consequences of which 
 have haunted the perpetrator through all his suc- 
 ceeding existence, making his days wearisome and 
 his nights a burden. 
 
 We cannot be too much on our guard, then, to 
 prevent the access of this calamity to ourselves, nor 
 be too anxious to do all that we can reasonably and 
 lawfully do, to avert, or remove it from others. 
 
 If there is any one in this assembly who is tam- 
 pering with this enemy to his peace and welfare, 
 let me earnestly entreat him to give it no place ; no, 
 not for a moment ; to avoid every thing, to break 
 off" from every thing that may tend to make him 
 the slave, the victim, of this degrading, loathsome, 
 destructive vice! 
 
 What need have any of us of intoxicating drinks ? 
 
TEMPERANCE. 263 
 
 Why allow them a place in our house, except in 
 the medicine chest ? 
 
 If there be a parent here whose conscience tes- 
 tifies that he is chargeable with this intemperance, 
 or with any fondness for intoxicating drink, I would 
 say to him, * Think of the evil that you are working 
 in your sphere. You are bound to set a good ex- 
 ample before your children, and how can this be 
 done while you continue what you are ? Remem- 
 ber that you do not stand alone in life, but that 
 from you descends an influence upon your children. 
 Yes, it may be upon your children's children, through 
 many generations.* 
 
 But, in our zeal against this wide-spreading and 
 destructive evil, there is danger that other kinds of 
 intemperance will be overlooked. The apostle tells ' 
 us that we must be ' temperate in all things.' 
 
 It concerns every one, therefore, whilst he is cast- 
 ing a stone at his poor, degraded fellow-creature 
 who needs his pity, his labors, his prayers, to look 
 to himself, and see if there is * no beam in his own 
 eye.' Intemperance is not confined to the excessive 
 use of ardent spirits. There are those, I remark 
 first, and they are more numerous than is com- 
 monly imagined, who are intemperate in the use 
 of food, and who thus pervert what was designed 
 for the preservation and support of life, into the 
 instrument of its injury and destruction. 
 
 There is pain and uneasiness in the sensation of 
 hunger; there is pleasure in its gratification. It 
 has been so appointed by our wise and merciful 
 
264 TEMPERANCE. 
 
 Creator, for the purpose of impelling us to seek the 
 food which is essential to our subsistence. But 
 many seem to imagine that this pleasure is the end 
 of eating, and not the means to an end. The de- 
 mands of nature are easily satisfied, and when 
 these alone are considered, there is seldom danger 
 of excess. But when we eat merely for pleasure, 
 we go beyond the demands of nature, and are in 
 danger of being led into all the evils of intempe- 
 rance. 
 
 Gluttony is a most degrading, as well as per- 
 nicious vice. Its ill effects are hardly less to the 
 individual than those of the intemperance before 
 noticed. By deranging the physical system, it im- 
 pairs the mental faculties, and, of course, the ability 
 'to fulfil, in a proper manner, the duties of life. Let 
 us guard, then, against all approaches to this vice. 
 It deserves our serious consideration that there are 
 few who, in this particular, keep within the strict 
 bounds of temperance, and who do not, there- 
 fore, in some measure, unfit themselves for the 
 performance of their appropriate duties. The 
 lightness of spirit, the Cheerfulness of heart, the 
 serenity of temper, the alacrity of mind, the vigor 
 of the understanding, the obedience of the will, 
 the freedom from bad desires, and the propen- 
 sity to good ones, which are the fruit of a prudent, 
 judicious self-denial in the particular I have men- 
 tioned, are inconceivable by those who have not 
 experienced them. 
 
 Nor is it only those who are intemperate in eat- 
 
TKMI'KRANCE. 
 
 ing and drinking, that are obnoxious to the charge 
 of intemperance. The abuse of any of the pas- 
 sions is intemperance in a degree proportioned to 
 the nature and measure of that abuse. 
 
 He who habitually indulges in excessive anger is 
 intemperate. Licentiousness is intemperance, and 
 intemperance of the lowest and most degrading 
 kind. The miser and the spendthrift are intem- 
 perate : but liberality is temperance, for it is equally 
 removed from covetousness on the one hand, and 
 prodigality on the oilier. 
 
 And what shall we say of the violent partisan in 
 politics and theology ? I do not say religion, for 
 in religion there can be nothing but kindness, for- 
 bearance, and love. 
 
 Politics and theology! How much intemperance 
 is here ! What severity, and harshness, and bitter 
 denunciation ! How are men carried away by their 
 prejudices! How do they lose their reason, and 
 judgment, and temper, and often when, in principle, 
 there is no difference at all. 
 
 There is a tendency in our nature to extremes. 
 Good men, when engaged in the promotion of a 
 worthy end, remember, it may be, the injunc- 
 tion of the apostle that it is good to be zealously 
 affected in a good thing ; but too often forget that 
 the same apostle has told us * there is a zeal that is 
 not according to knowledge.' 
 
 Even the wise and judicious suffer themselves to 
 be betrayed by the weak minded and enthusiastic, 
 into measures which, in the exercise of then* cool, 
 
 voi. ii. 23 
 
266 TEMPERANCE. 
 
 deliberate judgment, they would not approve. No- 
 thing eminently great or good, I am aware, can be 
 effected without zeal and enthusiasm, but these are 
 perfectly consistent with wisdom and discretion, 
 and should never exist without them. I shall not 
 be misunderstood, I trust, when I say that I have 
 witnessed, with much pain, the exhibition of intem- 
 perance in the cause of temperance ; and I have 
 much regretted that this noble cause should be so 
 deeply ' wounded in the house of its friends.' The 
 use of hard words is not so efficacious as sound 
 argument. 
 
 Let not any of those who are engaged in the traf- 
 fic of ardent spirits, and not a few honorable and 
 excellent men, as I well know, are so, be prevented 
 by harsh denunciation, from taking a serious, calm 
 and deliberate view of this matter; whether the 
 dreadful effects of the evil use of ardent spirits does 
 not make it a duty which they owe to GOD and 
 man, to strike off from their business this poisonous 
 branch of it. 
 
 For myself, I would say that I know not what 
 would tempt me, not the wealth of the Indies, 
 no, not the treasures which the world contains, 
 would tempt me to have on my soul the burden, 
 even of an apprehension, that 1 had been instru- 
 mental in the corruption, degradation, ruin, of one 
 single fellow-being. Still less, that, as in the 
 ramifications of society, it might be, I had been 
 instrumental in the corruption and ruin of thousands 
 of my fellow-beings for time and eternity. 
 
TEMPERANCE. 267 
 
 How could I contemplate the family, once united, 
 comfortable and happy, now, through my agency, 
 disunited, poor and miserable ? 
 
 How could I look upon that wife and those chil- 
 dren, whose husband and lather I had transformed 
 from a protector, supporter, kind and tender friend, 
 into, I will not say a brute, I would not so 
 miieli dishonor the inferior creation who obey the 
 impulses of natural affection, but, into a monster, 
 without natural affection, regardless of the closest 
 ties, dead to the tender charities of life; a slave 
 himself, and yet the cruel tyrant and oppressor of 
 those whom he once had loved and cherished, and 
 whom, by the most sacred obligations, he is bound 
 to love and cherish always. How could I lift up 
 my face before my GOD and Judge, whose image, in 
 the soul of my brother, I had cruelly defaced or 
 destroyed? The thought of it would haunt me by 
 1 1 id by night. On every breeze would come to 
 me the lamentations, if not the maledictions, 
 of the broken-hearted and miserable. 
 
 No! the gain of the whole world could be no 
 compensation for the thought that I had destroyed 
 a single soul. 'He that converteth a sinner from 
 the error of his way, shall save a soul from death 
 and hide a multitude of sins.' But not so, he who 
 eneoiira^eth the sinner in the error of his way, or 
 tempts him to sin. To him, the language of Scrip- 
 ture is, 'Woe unto him that giveth his neighbor 
 drink, and makeih him drunken!' 
 
 4 They that turn many to righteousness, shall 
 
268 TEMPERANCE. 
 
 shine as the brightness of the firmament and as 
 the stars forever and ever.' 
 
 Be temperate in all things. My text is itself a 
 sermon. It has been preached to you here. Preach 
 it to yourselves, my hearers, at home and abroad. 
 Carry it with you into your families, your business, 
 your recreations. Be temperate in your feelings, 
 your passions, your words and actions. Be tem- 
 perate in your joys, and temperate in the indulgence 
 of your sorrows. 
 
 It is by temperance in all things, that we are to 
 4 lay aside the weight' that would encumber us on 
 our Christian race. 
 
 ' They that strive for the mastery,' says the apos- 
 tle, ' are temperate in all things.' They did it to 
 obtain a ' corruptible crown ; ' WE, AN INCORRUPTI- 
 BLE. 
 
269 
 
 SERMON XXXIX. 
 
 MAKING HASTE TO BE RICH. 
 Proverbs xxvii. 20. HE THAT MAKETH HASTE TO BE RICH, SHALL 
 
 NOT BE INNOCENT. 
 
 THE book of Proverbs is a store-house of prac- 
 tical wisdom. It is so justly founded on the princi- 
 ples of human nature, and so adapted to the 
 permanent interests of man, that it agrees with 
 the manners of every age, and contains rules for 
 the direction of conduct in every rank and condition 
 of life, however varied in its complexion, or diversi- 
 fied in its circumstances. It would be well if this 
 book were more diligently studied at the present 
 day. The numerous embarrassments which are 
 constantly occurring, are conclusive evidence that 
 its maxims are not known, or, if known, are disre- 
 garded. Though not universally and invariably 
 applicable, and though not always to be understood 
 in a literally strict sense, without any exceptions, 
 yet there is enougluto serve as a sure and safe guide 
 in the business of life. 
 
 I am not certain that a due attention to the 
 declaration of my text would not be sufficient to 
 prevent all the difficulties, the ruin and distress 
 23* 
 
270 
 
 MAKING HASTE TO BE RICH. 
 
 which, in the operations of trade, so often take place. 
 It is, probably, making haste to be rich, that is 
 the cause of all this ; and surely if there were not 
 other and greater evils, if it did not lead to the 
 absorption of the mind by worldly cares, and an 
 unremitted devotion to worldly business, i He that 
 maketh haste to be rich cannot be innocent.' 
 
 1. In the first place, making haste to be rich leads 
 to over-trading' / to hazardous, perhaps to rash and 
 imprudent, speculations. He that maketh haste to 
 be rich, is not satisfied with moderate profits in a 
 safe and prudent line of business. He must needs 
 project and over-trade. * He considereth not,' as 
 saith the author of my text, i that poverty /shall 
 come upon him.' A little consideration would 
 show him that poverty is the ordinary consequence 
 of adventuring in trade beyond what his capital 
 admits and justifies. Demands often come before 
 returns, and returns may never come, at least in 
 proportion to the sum at stake. 
 
 Attend to the history of those who have failed in 
 the pursuit of wealth. The most frequent cause of 
 their failure is hastening to be rich by over-trading. 
 Attend to the history of those who have succeeded. 
 The most frequent cause of their success, is pru- 
 dent, moderate, persevering industry. 
 
 I grant that you may point to hundreds, who 
 have succeeded in the foolish, sinful course my text 
 condemns ; but tell me how many thousands have 
 been overwhelmed in ruin and misery by it. 
 
 I have been told, by the wise and observing, that 
 
MAKING HASTE TO BE RICH. 271 
 
 of those who come to this place to engage in mer- 
 cantile pursuits, more than one half, perhaps two- 
 thirds, are disappointed, and become embarrassed, 
 or become bankrupt. 
 
 It is owing to over-trading, and to another evil 
 which leads to over-trading, and arises from a ' haste 
 to be rich/ I mean the practice of excessive surety- 
 ship. l Be not thou one of those that strike hands, 
 or of them that are sureties for debts.' 
 
 I confess that I approach this subject with some 
 hesitation. Not because I have any doubts, or be- 
 cause I have any apprehensions in delivering my 
 opinion, but because experience has led me to fear 
 thai it is a fruitless task to oppose it. I should long 
 since, however, have desisted from preaching, if I 
 had been discouraged by the want of the fruit I 
 expected from my preaching. In a multitude of 
 cases we are obliged to adopt the plaintive, despond- 
 ing complaint of the prophet, ' I have labored in 
 vain, and spent my strength for nought.' 
 
 I have said excessive suretyship. I would not 
 condemn all suretyship. Even the wise author of 
 my text does not wholly forbid it. There are cases 
 in which he says, i An honest man is surety for his 
 neighbor,' though at the same time he says, * A man 
 void of understanding becomes surety.' These 
 assertions appear contradictory, but are not really 
 so. To lend, and to become surety, are ollicc- oi 
 friendship which we may sometimes impose upon 
 ourselves, but we must be careful not to exceed the 
 proper limits. If it be to serve a friend in a case of 
 
272 MAKING HASTE TO BE RICH. 
 
 strong necessity, and for a sum we can afford to lose^ 
 the case is clear. 4 Lose thy money for thy brother 
 and thy friend.' 
 
 By excessive suretyship, I mean an amount which 
 exceeds the bounds of propriety. These bounda- 
 ries are exceeded when you become surety for such 
 an amount as will essentially injure you, if you 
 should be called to pay it. ' If thou hast nothing 
 to pay, why should he take thy bed from under 
 thee ? ' < Suretyship hath undone many a good es- 
 tate, and shaken them like a wave of the sea. 
 Mighty men hath it driven from their houses, so 
 that they wandered among strange nations.' 
 
 The boundaries of propriety are also exceeded, 
 when you become surety for so large an amount as 
 will tempt your friend to hazard so much as will 
 ruin him, if he should be unsuccessful, and perhaps 
 hang a millstone about his neck, from which he can- 
 not free himself. 
 
 To become surety for more than you can afford 
 to lose without distress, is a cruel injustice to your 
 family and those who may look to you for support 
 and assistance. To become surety for so much as 
 will tempt another to risk more than there is a 
 strong probability, a moral certainty, he will be 
 able to repay, is an act of cruelty to him. You 
 may be accessary to his ruin. You may be the 
 cause of it. How many young persons have been 
 ruined by the cruel kindness of their wealthy 
 friends, in lending them their names for a large 
 amount ! How many have themselves been ruined 
 
MAKING HASTE TO BE RICH. 273 
 
 by lending their names for an amount, the loss of 
 which they could not sustain! 
 
 I have often quoted, and think it well to quote in 
 this connection, the declaration of the apostle, l He 
 that provideth not for his own, especially those of 
 his own house, hath denied the faith, and is worse 
 than an infidel.' 
 
 Now reflect, 1 beseech you, when you are about 
 to give your name as surety for another, whether 
 you are not subjecting yourselves to this denunci- 
 ation. Reflect whether you are not about to sign 
 the death-warrant to the prosperity, perhaps the 
 existence, of those who are nearest and dearest 
 to you. Reflect on your wife and children, and 
 your aged parents. Reflect on the poor whom you 
 might relieve by your bounty ; the works of piety 
 and utility you might promote by your benefac- 
 tions. * Shall I be the author of misery to my 
 family? Shall I, to serve one child, beggar all my 
 children? 1 perhaps to serve a stranger, it may 
 be, to serve one who is utterly unworthy of the 
 favor, and is deceiving me with false pretences at 
 the moment he is soliciting this act of kindness? 
 
 The character of such a one is thus fitly drawn by 
 the author of my text. ' Many, when a thing was 
 lent them, reckoned it to be found, and put them to 
 trouble that helped them. Till he hath received, he 
 ^\ ill kiss a man's hand, and for his neighbor's money 
 will speak submissively; but when he should repay, 
 he will prolong the time and return words of grief, 
 and complain of the times. ' The wicked borrow- 
 eth and payeth not again.' 
 
274 
 
 MAKING HASTE TO BE RICH. 
 
 I have spoken of suretyship as a cause of em- 
 barrassment and bankruptcy. But I have some- 
 times heard of this language being used in connection 
 with pecuniary obligations contracted by suretyship. 
 1 A man is under an obligation to pay his own debts, 
 but not to pay the debts of others.' 
 
 His own debts ! Whose debt is that for which 
 he has become responsible ? Whose debt is that 
 which he has given a pledge he will pay, if the 
 principal should fail to pay it when called upon to 
 do so ? 
 
 Is he under no obligation to pay on the faith of 
 whose suretyship, on the sight of whose name, the 
 money was loaned ? Can any conscientious man 
 use such language as this ? ' My soul come not 
 thou into their secret. Unto their assembly mine 
 honor be not thou united.' There is as sacred an 
 obligation to pay such a debt as any debt that can 
 be contracted. Nay, possibly, the obligation may be 
 more sacred than on him to whom the money was 
 lent, because on the surety, in many, if not most 
 cases, the chief reliance for payment is placed. 
 It is for the debtor to remunerate his surety when 
 he is able to do so. It is his duty to remunerate all 
 his creditors to the utmost farthing, when it is in 
 the power of his hand to do it. 
 
 I am sensible that, in the vicissitude of human 
 affairs, it has been the lot of not a few of you, my 
 friends, to experience embarrassments and difficul- 
 ties in your business transactions ; but it affords me 
 the highest satisfaction to believe that no one woq 
 
MAKING HASTE TO BE RICH. 275 
 
 now hears me, has, under such embarrassments, for- 
 feited his integrity, or lost any thing of the respect 
 and confidence he hud enjoyed. 
 
 It is the lot of nil to experience disappointments 
 and misfortunes. ' lla/t/ty is he who condemneth not 
 hi mat- If in that thing which he alloweth ! ' 
 
 1 have heard of those, but not among you, 
 my hearers, who contract debts without the prospect 
 or intent ion of paying them; who ' enter into 
 leagues to deceive ; ' who pervert the relations of 
 life: transferring goods from one to another, to de- 
 fraud their creditors; who 'live at ease, and drink 
 wine in bowls, and chant to the sound of the viol,' 
 while their creditors languish ; who betray their 
 trust, and convert to their own use, what was given 
 them for the benefit of others; who surrender 
 nothing that they can secrete; are partial to their 
 creditors ; in>ult those whom they have injured, and 
 pique themselves on the tranquillity with which they 
 can bear to be called villains. 
 
 Compassion will and should be felt for one who 
 has lived in affluence and become bankrupt ; but if 
 he has been fraudulent, has defrauded his creditors, 
 has bought and built, that he might live luxuriously, 
 the compassion should rather fall on the friend 
 whom he has betrayed; the trader and artificer 
 whose economy he has deranged; the servant who 
 entrusted him with his wages in an evil hour; the 
 widow whom he had caused to weep over destitute 
 children, and execrate him, it may be, in the bitter- 
 ness of her soul. 
 
276 MAKING HASTE TO BE RICH. 
 
 Alas ! When the bustle of life is over, he who 
 has betrayed the confidence of friendship ; defraud- 
 ed the trader and the artificer of the fruits of their 
 honest diligence ; laid his sacrilegious hand on the 
 portion of the widow and the fatherless; if his 
 conscience be at all awakened, must needs have 
 bitter remembrances of the past, and fearful antici- 
 pations of the future. 
 
 It is * judgment come beforehand.' But not fully 
 come. Would that it were so ! 
 
 It is the premonition of conscience of a retribu- 
 tion yet to come, in the awards of eternity. 
 
 ' A FAITHFUL MAN SHALL ABOUND WITH BLESS- 
 INGS ; BUT HE THAT MAKETH HASTE TO BE RICH, 
 
277 
 
 SERMON XL. 
 
 CHRISTIAN RESPONSIBILITY. 
 
 [Preached before the Society for Propagating the fiospel among the Indiana and 
 others in North America, 18JO, and first printed at that time.] 
 
 Luke xii. 48. UNTO WHOMSOEVER MUCH is GIVEN, OF IIIM SUALL 
 
 MUCH BE BEQUIBED. 
 
 WE cannot contemplate, for a moment, our con- 
 dition as intellectual and moral beings, as experi- 
 encing continual protection, and as enjoying the 
 light and privileges of Christianity, without a deep 
 conviction of the kindness and love of GOD. 
 
 We behold around us innumerable creatures un- 
 conscious of the value of existence, insensible to 
 the profusion of beauty and magnificence which 
 surrounds them, and incapable of the enjoyment 
 which results from the cultivation of the powers of 
 the understanding, and the exercise of the affections 
 of the heart. We behold multitudes of our fellow- 
 creatures, possessed of like faculties and affections 
 with ourselves, either destitute of the means of 
 intellectual and moral improvement, or enjoying 
 but the partial and imperfect possession of them ; 
 dwelling in the region of heathen darkness and 
 
 TOL. II. 24 
 
278 
 
 CHRISTIAN RESPONSIBILITY. 
 
 superstition, or placed in circumstances which ex- 
 clude them from the full enjoyment of gospel light. 
 
 By the condition in which we are placed, the 
 most solemn obligations are imposed upon us. No 
 talent which GOD has given us should be neglected, 
 and no means of improvement with which He has 
 furnished us, should be unimproved. If He has 
 given us 'more understanding than the beasts of 
 the field, and made us wiser than the fowls of 
 heaven,' it is, that we may devote our powers to 
 noble purposes, and that, being so much exalted 
 by nature above the animals around us, we may 
 rise superior to the enjoyments of mere animal life. 
 If He has distinguished us above many of our 
 fellow-creatures by the means of knowledge ; if He 
 has favored us with the instructions and promises 
 and discoveries of the gospel ; if the Sun of Right- 
 eousness has shone upon us with full and unclouded 
 effulgence ; it is, that we may be guided in our 
 opinions by the light which it conveys to the under- 
 standing, and be the subjects of that holy influence 
 which it sheds upon the heart and the life. If, 
 aware of our weakness, and the power of sensible 
 objects to draw us from our duty, He has appointed 
 institutions adapted to strengthen our purposes of 
 obedience, and to counteract the effect of the objects 
 around us, it is, that by the observance and use of 
 these institutions, we may be assisted in attaining 
 the end for which the gospel was given us. 
 
 Possessed, then, of rational and moral capacities, 
 we should not be satisfied with low attainments in 
 
CHRISTIAN RESPONSIBILITY. 279 
 
 knowledge and goodness. It is by the mind, the 
 immaterial and immortal principle within us, that we 
 resemble the Deity, and it is only by the cultivation 
 of this principle that the resemblance can be pre- 
 served. It is by the mind, the immaterial principle 
 within us, that while on earth, we are susceptible 
 of pure and exalted enjoyment, and that, in heaven, 
 we may attain to ineffable and eternal felicity ; and 
 it is only by the cultivation and improvement of 
 this principle, that the purest enjoyment of earth, 
 and the most exalted felicity of heaven, can be 
 secured by us. Enjoying, too, the light and privi- 
 leges of Christianity, we should use them for the 
 purpose of preparing ourselves, by the grace of 
 GOD, for our high destination. Communicating to 
 us the most important and ^interesting truths 
 relating to our Creator and ourselves, we should 
 study the Scriptures, that our minds may be en- 
 lightened by the truths they contain, that we may 
 be guided by the instructions they impart, and may 
 transcribe into our characters the examples of piety 
 and virtue which they display. Favored with in- 
 stimtions intended and adapted to advance the 
 purposes for which we were created intelligent 
 and immortal beings and were indulged with the 
 blessings of the gospel, we should yield to these 
 institutions a strict and diligent observance. 
 
 But this is not all. We are to cultivate our own 
 powers, and improve our own light, and use our 
 own means of religious and moral instruction, not 
 only that we may advance our own benefit, but be 
 
280 
 
 CHRISTIAN RESPONSIBILITY. 
 
 useful also to others. We are formed for society. 
 We have social affections. We depend upon society 
 for much of our comfort and happiness. Our 
 duties in this state are mutual and reciprocal. 
 Receiving from others, we must impart to others, in 
 return. Nor is this to be confined to those from 
 whom we have received direct and personal benefits. 
 Deriving advantage from the social state, we must 
 labor to meliorate, improve, and elevate that state 
 wherever it exists. 
 
 Hence results the duty of diffusing the means of 
 instruction ; for the wisest of men has long ago 
 told us, what, indeed, our own observation abun- 
 dantly confirms, that ' for the soul to be without 
 knowledge, is not good.' Hence, especially, results 
 the duty of diffusing religious instruction ; for one 
 almost as wise, at a much later period, has left it on 
 record as the fruit of his researches and experience. 
 4 That there never was found in any age of the 
 world, either philosophy, or sect, or religion, or 
 law, or discipline, which did so highly exalt the 
 public good, as the Christian faith.' 
 
 But you need not the opinion of Lord Bacon, 
 Christians, to convince you of the worth of Chris- 
 tianity. No, you are fully aware of its importance 
 to the public welfare, and to private virtue and 
 happiness ; how essential it is to the progress of 
 civilization and the useful arts; how much it 
 elevates the tone of public morals ; and how power- 
 ful an influence it exerts where ' law and discipline ' 
 have no control. You are fully aware of its 
 
CHRISTIAN RESPONSIBILITY. 281 
 
 beneficial effects on our personal condition, and on 
 the relations of domestic life ; what light, and 
 comfort, and joy it imparts wherever its influence 
 is felt ; how much contentmeut, and patience, and 
 resignation, and hope it inspires in poverty, and 
 sickness, and sorrow, and death ; how it infuses 
 sweetness into the bitterest cup, and tinges with 
 brightness the darkest cloud of calamity; how it 
 has lighted up the passage of the grave, and pre- 
 sented to the inquiring eye of faith a brighter 
 region beyond it. Yes, it * has brought life and 
 immortality to light;' it has opened the gates of 
 the tomb, loosed the cerements of the dead, and 
 given back the pious departed to the faith of 
 surviving relatives. 
 
 In the chamber of sickness, it has smoothed the 
 pillow of the dying, filled a void in the heart which 
 not/i ing else could fill, removed a reluctance to die 
 which nothing else could abate, whispered peace to 
 the departing spirit, and, like an angel from heaven, 
 beckoned it upward to the abodes of everlasting 
 rest and joy. 
 
 THANKS BE UNTO GOD FOR His UNSPEAKABLE 
 GIFT ! ' How many hearts, which have experienced 
 its cheering encouragements, its divine supports, its 
 animating hopes, will respond when I repeat, 
 * Thanks be unto GOD for his nn-p* akahlc <rjft | ' 
 
 Such, my hearers, so efficacious, is the religion 
 
 we have received, and which it is our duty, as there 
 
 is need, and we have opportunity, to impart to 
 
 others. Wherever the heralds of salvation are sent, 
 
 24* 
 
282 
 
 CHRISTIAN RESPONSIBILITY. 
 
 we should devoutly wish them a blessing from the 
 Lord; and to every rational, practicable plan for 
 promoting the diffusion of Christian truth, and of 
 course advancing the best interests of mankind, we 
 should afford, as we have ability, our patronage and 
 aid. 
 
 If there is a prospect of success, we must scatter 
 our seeds in the wilds of Patagonia, cast our bread 
 upon the waters of the Ganges, open a fountain of 
 life in the Arabian desert, and kindle a flame, which 
 shall diffuse light and heat, upon the mountains of 
 the frozen pole. At least, we must pray that the 
 kingdom of GOD may come, and we may not con- 
 demn, however we may hesitate to assist, the 
 feeblest and most unpromising effort. 
 
 To human reason, nothing could appear more 
 wild and extravagant than the original project of 
 establishing the Christian Religion, with so many 
 obstacles to overcome, and such trifling and insig- 
 nificant means for effecting it. Without doubt, if it 
 had been the work of man, it would soon have 
 come to nought. Yet it stood and flourished, and 
 extended itself. ' It has sent forth its boughs to the 
 sea, and its branches to the rivers,' and, from past 
 experience, we may well believe, that the time is has- 
 tening on, when all nations shall repose under its 
 foliage, and be refreshed by its fruit. 
 
 It is not, however, to such extensive views, to 
 such large and diffusive exertions, however honora- 
 ble and useful, that we are called by the venerable 
 Society, which I have the honor now to address. It 
 
CHRISTIAN RESPONSIBILITY. 283 
 
 confines its attention to our own continent, labors to 
 meliorate the condition of the natives of our own 
 forests, extends its helping hand to the piously dis- 
 1 in our new settlements, and assists in rebuild- 
 ing the waste places of our Zion. 
 
 In this comparatively limited, but actually ex- 
 tensive field of usefulness, it has long and success- 
 fully labored. Its efforts to communicate divine 
 and human knowledge to the Aborigines have not 
 been unavailing; and of late, from a change in the 
 mode of operation which experience has suggested, 
 t lie re is the prospect of a richer harvest of good. 
 
 Of the instruction it has given to the young who 
 were growing up without knowledge ; the warning it 
 has addressed to the careless and irreligious who were 
 living without GOD, the conviction it has brought to 
 the unbelieving who were without hope in the world; 
 the comfort it has spoken to the desponding; the 
 consolation it has allordcd the aillieted, and the 
 peace it has imparted to the dying, who, without its 
 benevolent interposition, might have died in their 
 sins: of all this, the journals of its missionaries, 
 and the reports of its committee, will abundantly 
 testify. 
 
 Its means of usefulness are in no degree com- 
 nimsurate with its opportunities. If it limits its 
 views, as required by its charter, to the northern 
 section of our own continent. Mill, a field is open 
 before it sufficiently large to occupy its whole at- 
 tention, and incalculably more than sufficient to 
 exhaust its resources; reaching from the Atlantic to 
 
264 
 
 CHRISTIAN RESPONSIBILITY. 
 
 the Pacific, from the Gulf of Mexico to the Arctic 
 Ocean and the frozen shores of Greenland. But it 
 is only in its charter that it takes so wide a range. 
 Over this extended space, it can cast only an anx- 
 ious, and, but for the sure word of prophecy, a hope- 
 less glance. It must return to a narrower sphere, 
 happy if within this sphere it can do something to 
 diffuse the blessings of civilization, and extend the 
 bounds of the Redeemer's kingdom. 
 
 Conscious of the dignity and importance of the 
 objects which it labors to promote, it is not ashamed 
 to solicit your cooperation. In doing this, it calls 
 you to the most honorable office, that of i fellow- 
 workers with GOD ; ' to the best service, that of dis- 
 pensing the Bread of Life ; to the highest reward, the 
 reward of those who have ' turned many to righteous- 
 ness, and who shall shine as the stars forever and 
 ever.' 
 
 Nor does it call you to a fruitless service, for, 
 whilst it bids you obey the voice which cries from 
 the wilderness, ' Prepare ye the way of the Lord, 
 make straight in the desert a highway for our GOD,' 
 it invites you to hear the encouraging promise, ' The 
 wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad, and 
 the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose.' 
 
 Would you be instrumental in accomplishing this 
 glorious design ? Would you promote the spread 
 of a religion which is productive of effects so bene- 
 ficial, which thus softens the most rugged face of na- 
 ture, converts the dreary waste into a fruitful field, 
 and causes the solitary place to echo the notes of 
 
CHRISTIAN RESPONSIBILITY. 285 
 
 Grateful praise ? Would you bear yonr part in iv- 
 claiminir tin* wandering savage, in teaching him to 
 know and feel 'the charities of father, son and 
 brother,'* and in giving him a home of love and 
 peace and piety? cast in your offering. To ob- 
 jects such as these, it will be faithfully applied. 
 I'Yeelv ye have received, freely give.' 
 
 The apostles of our Lord, and many of the early 
 Christians, sustained the loss of every thing, but a 
 good conx-ience, and the hope of heaven, that they 
 might brinir others to a participation of the heavenly 
 treasure which was entrusted to them. They were 
 not satisfied with enjoying its benefits, but labored, 
 incessantly, to diffuse them. To their exertions, to 
 the labors and sacrifices of these Christian Mis- 
 sionaries and their successors, are we indebted for 
 the exalted rank we hold, and the immortal hopes 
 we entertain as Christians, and, as far as circum- 
 stances demand, and opportunities allow, shall we 
 not emulate their efforts ? 
 
 Consider, I beseech you, my friends, whilst you 
 are providing for the temporal comfort of your fel- 
 low-creatures, whether you have done enough for 
 their spiritual and eternal interests? By aiding 
 some species of charity, you may encourage idle- 
 ness and vice, and thus instead of lessening, may 
 increase the amount of real suffering. But it is 
 far otherwise with regard to the charity which 
 
 Milton. 
 
286 CHRISTIAN RESPONSIBILITY. 
 
 I now recommend. By the diffusion of religious 
 knowledge, you furnish the strongest incitements to 
 industry, and the most powerful motives to virtue ; 
 for religion hath said, ' He that provideth not for 
 his own, especially those of his own house, hath 
 denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel.' 
 Religion also hath said, * Without holiness no man 
 shall see the Lord.' < Godliness is profitable unto 
 all things, having the promise of the life that now 
 is, and of that which is to come.' 
 
 My hearers, we have received much, and much 
 will be required of us. Highly exalted in point of 
 privilege, it will be expected that our views will be 
 enlarged, and our aims proportionably elevated. 
 Happy will it be for us if we diligently improve the 
 talents which have been given us, direct our steps 
 by the light which has been imparted, faithfully ob- 
 serve the institutions which have been appointed for 
 our benefit, and promote, as we can, the improve- 
 ment and happiness of our fellow-men. Then, when 
 our conflict with the power of temptation is ended, 
 and our warfare with sin and with death is accom- 
 plished, we shall be able to give a good account of 
 our stewardship, and, through the mediation of the 
 Saviour, shall receive the reward of our fidelity in 
 the kingdom of GOD. 
 
287 
 
 SERMON XLI. 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN SPIRIT. 
 
 [Preached at the Ordination of a Minister in Kennebunk, Maine, 1827.] 
 Romans viii. 9. IF ANY MAN HAVE NOT THE SPIRIT OF CHRIST, UK 
 
 IS NONE OF HIS. 
 
 THERE is much contention in the world respect- 
 ing the' essential qualifications of a Christian dis- 
 ciple. By many it is held, that the adoption of 
 certain opinions, distinct from a belief in the 
 Christian religion and the possession of the Chris- 
 tian character, alone can give a title to this 
 appellation. 
 
 The Christian world is divided into a multitude 
 of sects and denominations, differing from each 
 other, more or less, in their modes of faith, though 
 all acknowledging the same Master, and appealing 
 to the same divine authority. With many of these, 
 the reception of their views, and an adherence to 
 their party, is essential to salvation. All, who are 
 not within the limits they have drawn, must be lost. 
 Hence the contempt, mingled I trust with pity, 
 which is discovered, and the harsh epithets which 
 
288 THE CHRISTIAN SPIRIT. 
 
 are used, by many professing Christians towards 
 each other. Hence it is, that, with many, a bold, 
 inveterate, intolerant zeal for favorite tenets, is a 
 more effectual recommendation, and a stronger 
 ground of attachment, than every other quality. 
 
 How strangely do such persons mistake the na- 
 ture of true religion! How do they forget, that, 
 in their zeal for modes of faith, they lose the spirit 
 of the gospel, and that, without this spirit, their 
 faith and their zeal can profit them nothing ! Their 
 faith, indeed, may be true in speculation, but, in its 
 influence and effects, it loses this character. The 
 faith of the gospel worketh by love, and no other 
 faith is genuine. Their zeal, too, is kindled, not 
 at the Christian altar, but by the flame of their 
 own passions. It is false and unhallowed,, destruc- 
 tive of the kindest and best feelings of their nature. 
 Far better were it that their faith were less sound, 
 and their temper more Christian. 
 
 < IF ANY MAN HAVE NOT THE SPIRIT OF CHRIST, HE 
 
 is NONE OF HIS.' You have here a test, my hearers, 
 by which you may judge of your own character 
 and standing as Christians, and of that of others. 
 If you have not the spirit of Christ, you are none 
 of his. If you perceive in others a destitution of 
 this spirit, however loud their pretensions, however 
 ardent their zeal, you may decide that they also are 
 none of his. 
 
 And what was the spirit of Christ ? It may be 
 told in a few words. The spirit of Christ was 
 meek, humble, benevolent, devout. Where this 
 
THE CHRISTIAN SPIRIT. 289 
 
 spirit to any considerable degree exists, there is a 
 genuine disciple of Christ. Where any consider- 
 able portion of it is wanting, there may be a disci- 
 ple in n nine) but it is only in name. He may have 
 the form of sound words, but there is no substance. 
 I care not by what title he is designated, Orthodox 
 or Heterodox, Unitarian or Trinitarian, Calvinist or 
 Arminian, he is not a Christian. He has not 
 the spirit of Christ, and the word of GOD assures 
 me that he is none of ///>. 
 
 It is high time that the language on this subject 
 should be changed. The question should not be, 
 To what church does he belong? What is his 
 creed ? but What is his spirit ? Has he the spirit 
 of Christ? 
 
 1. Is HE MEEK, or is he passionate? forgiving, 
 or revengeful ? 
 
 There can be no such thing as a quarrelsome, 
 revengeful Christian. It is a contradiction in terms. 
 A forgiving spirit is essential to the Christian char- 
 acter. It was the spirit of Christ. He inculcated 
 forgiveness by his precepts. ' If thy brother tres- 
 pass against thee, rebuke him ; and if he repent, 
 forgive him. And if he trespass against thee seven 
 times in a day, and seven times in a day turn again 
 ee, saying, I repent, thou shalt forgive him/ 
 He exhibited it in his life. * When he was reviled, 
 he reviled not again;' and when he poured out his 
 soul an offering for sin, it was his dying petition, 
 ' Father, forgive them, for they know not what they 
 
 VOL. ii. 1!5 
 
290 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN SPIRIT. 
 
 do.' He hath left us an example that we should 
 follow his steps. 
 
 2. Is HE HUMBLE, or is he proud and arrogant ? 
 disposed to elevate himself above those around 
 him, and saying to others, in manners at least, if 
 not in words, i Stand by, for I am wiser, or richer, 
 or holier than thou ? ' 
 
 There can be no such thing as a proud Christian. 
 Humility lies at the foundation of the Christian 
 character. The benediction on the poor in spirit, is 
 the first of the beatitudes. It has the promise of 
 the kingdom of heaven. It was the spirit of Christ. 
 ' He humbled himself, and took upon him the form 
 of a servant^ and became obedient unto death, even 
 the death of the cross.' 
 
 3. Is HE BENEVOLENT, or is he hard, unfeeling, 
 contracted ? 
 
 There can be no such thing as an unkind, unfeel- 
 ing Christian. There can be no such thing as an 
 exclusive, censorious Christian. There may be the 
 form, indeed, but the spirit is not there. There is 
 a name to live, but he is dead. i Love is the ful- 
 filling of the law.' ' The end of the command- 
 ment is love. Thou shalt love the Lord thy GOD 
 with all thy heart, and with all thy strength, and 
 with all thy mind; and thy neighbor as thyself. 
 On these two commandments hang all the law and 
 the prophets.' On every page of the gospel, love, 
 diffusive love, is inscribed in characters which can- 
 not be misunderstood, clear, distinct, indelible. 
 
 Can any one, then, be -destitute of this spirit, and 
 
THE CHRISTIAN SIM HIT. 291 
 
 yet a Christian? It was the spirit of Christ. His 
 temper was most benevolent and kind. He has 
 displayed to us the character of GOD as love, and 
 has exhibited a perfect pattern of it in his own 
 life. 
 
 4. Is he DEVOUT ? 
 
 Like him whom he professes to serve, is it his 
 meat and his drink to do the will of his heavenly 
 Father? Like him, does he have reference in all 
 hi- conduct to GOD? Like him, does he hold fre- 
 (jiicut communion with GOD, and delight in such 
 communion ? 
 
 There can be no such thing as an undevout Chris- 
 tian. Piety to GOD is as essential to the Christian 
 character, as justice and benevolence to man. If to 
 love our neighbor is the second commandment in 
 the law, to love the Lord our GOD is the first. From 
 love to GOD must love to our neighbor proceed. No 
 man can be a true Christian who merely complies 
 with the second table in the law. He may be a 
 believer in Christ, gentle in his disposition, humble 
 in his deportment, benevolent and charitable in his 
 conduct, and yet be destitute of an essential part of 
 the Christian character. He may be all this, and 
 have no love to GOD. He may be all this, and 
 seldom or never think of GOD. 
 
 To have the spirit of Christ, he must be able to 
 say, ' I am here, not to do mine own will, but the 
 will of Him who sent me.' To have the spirit of 
 Christ, he must be able to say, and to feel it when 
 he says, * The Father is with me.' To have the 
 
292 THE CHRISTIAN SPIRIT. 
 
 spirit of Christ, he must be able to say, and from 
 his heart to say so, however bitter the cup which 
 he is called to drink, ' Father, not as I will, but as 
 thou wilt.' 
 
 I repeat it, let not the question be, To what 
 church does he belong ? What is his creed ? but, 
 i What manner of spirit is he of?' Where the 
 spirit of Christ is most apparent in a church ; where 
 the simplicity, the humility, the piety, the mildness, 
 the condescension, and forbearance of its members 
 are most conspicuous ; where a fervent, yet moderate 
 zeal to promote, not the interest of a party, but 
 vital godliness, is most eminently displayed, there is 
 a church of Christ; a church formed on the model 
 which its head has exhibited ; a church which he 
 will not disown. 
 
 To be meek, humble, benevolent, devout. Such 
 is the Christian character. Such was the spirit of 
 Christ. SUCH MUST BE OUR SPIRIT, OR WE ARE 
 
 NONE OF HIS. 
 
 MY HEARERS ! It was well said by Wesley, or 
 by some one else, that there were no Calvinists nor 
 Arminians in heaven ; meaning that all would be 
 united in one faith, as they would be bound to- 
 gether by one bond of affection. 
 
 Till we arrive in heaven, if, through the mercy 
 of GOD, and the mediation of the Saviour, we are 
 permitted to go there, we shall never be united in 
 all the particulars that make up a human creed. 
 Differing as men do in the structure of their minds, 
 
THE CHRISTIAN SPIRIT. 
 
 in their constitutional temperament, in the circum- 
 stances in which they are placed, in the state of 
 feeling in which they examine the sacred records, 
 it is not wonderful that they should differ about 
 every doctrine which admits of a difference of 
 opinion. It would be wonderful indeed if they did 
 not. 
 
 I am not prepared to say that they may not 
 innocently differ, and that great good may not 
 result from their disagreement. I am not prepared 
 to say, that one mode of faith may not be better 
 adapted to a certain stage of progress in cultivation 
 and refinement, or to produce beneficial effects on 
 certain minds and certain dispositions than another. 
 Sure I am that this disagreement has led to the 
 preservation of the sacred text in greater purity and 
 uncorruptness, to the more diligent study of the 
 Scriptures, and has given scope for the exercise of 
 the best Christian grace, the grace of charity. 
 Alas ! for good men, that this purpose is so seldom 
 answered ! 
 
 But is it visionary to believe that it will yet be 
 answered? that we shall yet be united in this 
 which constitutes the chief ornament of the Chris- 
 tian character ? Is it visionary to believe that the 
 professed disciples of Christ will possess so much 
 of the spirit of their Master, as to be kept from 
 falling' out by the way? 
 
 How beautiful is the delineation which is given 
 us of this heavenly grace of charity by the apostle ! 
 How beautiful is it in itself ! How important, 
 25* 
 
294 THE CHRISTIAN SPIRIT. 
 
 how necessary ! We may have faith enough to 
 remove mountains, and zeal enough to become 
 martyrs for our faith, and beneficence enough to 
 give all our goods to feed the poor, and yet, if we 
 have not charity, we are nothing. 
 
 1 Charity never faileth.' When tongues shall 
 cease and speculative knowledge shall vanish away ; 
 when faith shall be lost in the vision of GOD, and 
 hope in the enjoyment of celestial felicity, charity 
 will remain, diffusing its benign influence through 
 the abodes of the blessed, and binding those, yea, 
 and more than those, together in heaven, whom 
 it had united on earth. 
 
 Let me inculcate this charity upon you, my 
 hearers, as that which it is most important for you 
 to possess and cultivate and display. Do you bear 
 the name of Christ? Be ambitious, above all 
 things, to have this distinguishing characteristic of 
 your Master. Remember the prayer which he of- 
 fered up for his disciples, for you, for his fol- 
 lowers in all times, that they might be one, even as 
 he and his Father were one. Remember the lesson 
 of mutual kindness and good will which he enforc- 
 ed by an appeal to his own example, ' By this shall 
 all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have 
 love one to another.' 
 
 Cherish those benevolent affections which will 
 prompt you to every kind office, and will restrain 
 you from every unkind word, and from all severe 
 and uncharitable judgment. If you find in the 
 community of Christians those who are exclusive, 
 
THE CHRISTIAN SPIRIT. 295 
 
 bigoted, censorious, pity them and pray for them, 
 but do not imitate them. It tin -y revile you, if they 
 circulate evil reports of your faith or your conduct, 
 revile not, traduce not again. Return not railing 
 for railing, but contrariwise blessing. In as far as 
 they have what you believe to be the truth, re- 
 joice ; in as far as they have the spirit of Christ, 
 love it, and hope that, notwithstanding their bigotry, 
 they may belong to Christ, and may be found in 
 heaven. Yes, and may find in heaven, and re- 
 cognize as brethren, many, very many, with whom 
 they disdained to hold communion upon earth. 
 
 Seek for Christian truth, for the truth once de- 
 livered to the saints, but hold and speak the truth 
 in meekness and love. Instead of prying, with too 
 much curiosity, into the deep things of GOD, study, 
 especially, what is plain and practical. Study, 
 nuT especially, the instructions and the life of Jesus, 
 never forgetting that THE FAITH WHICH is ACCEPT- 
 ABLE, IS NOT SO MUCH THE FAITH OF THE UNDER- 
 STANDING AS OF THE HEART. 
 
 In conformity with the ancient, and, I may per- 
 haps add, the invariable usage of the Congregrat ion- 
 al churches, till the spirit of modern innovation, 
 wise it may be, has sought to discard it, I now 
 turn to you, my young friend, who have the 
 deepest interest in the solemnities of this occa- 
 sion. 
 
 The sentiments I have now expressed are not 
 new to you. They have been inculcated upon you 
 
296 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN SPIRIT. 
 
 from your early childhood, and find, if I mistake 
 not, a sincere and earnest advocate in your own 
 breast. You have been taught to reject the badge 
 of party, and, whilst you sought with an unfettered 
 mind for Christian truth, to labor above all things 
 to possess the Christian spirit. You have been 
 taught that it belongs not to mortals, frail and fal- 
 lible, who are neither apostles nor evangelists, to 
 draw the limits within which the mode of faith is 
 safe, and beyond which it is fatal. Thus you have 
 been taught. You are now yourself a teacher, and 
 it remains for you to determine how far the in- 
 structions of the past shall exert an influence on 
 your future practice. You go from ministerial 
 guidance, to be yourself a minister and guide to 
 others. 
 
 There are those, who, as well as you, would for- 
 give me, if I were now to give language to the 
 feelings with which your connection with the trans- 
 actions of this day has inspired me. But I must 
 forbear. The obtrusion of such feelings would be 
 unsuitable to the place in which I stand, and the 
 occasion on which we are assembled. 
 
 And yet, when I advert to the near relation in 
 which I have stood to you as your pastor, and the 
 increased responsibility which your early loss of pa- 
 ternal counsel imposed upon me, I feel as if I might 
 be permitted to breathe, with more than common 
 fervency, the prayer that GOD would ' preserve and 
 'keep you, would cause his face to shine upon you, 
 and give you rest.' Affection for the living, and the 
 
THE CHRISTIAN SPIRIT. 297 
 
 cherished remembrance of the departed, give strong h 
 and earnestness to the prayer. 
 
 Go forth, then, with the blessing and the prayers 
 of many hearts, into this field of your ministerial 
 labors. May a better blessing also attend you! 
 1 Let your conversation be as becometh the gos- 
 pel of Christ, and whether I come and see you, or 
 else be absent, may I hear of your affairs, that 
 you, and the people of your charge, stand fast in 
 one spirit, striving together for the faith of the 
 gospel.' 
 
298 
 
 ORDER OF THE SERVICES 
 
 AT THE ORDINATION IN KENNEBUN'K. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY PRATER, by Mr. Frotliingham, of Boston. 
 
 SELECT PORTIONS op THE SCRIPTURES, by Mr. Barrett, of Boston. 
 
 SERMON, by Dr. Lowell, of Boston. 
 
 ORDAINING PRATER, by Dr. Kirkland, of Harvard University. 
 
 CHARGE, by Mr. Fletcher, of Kennebunk. 
 
 RIGHT HAND OF FELLOWSHIP, by Mr. Hipley, of Boston. 
 
 ADDRESS TO THE PEOPLE, by Dr. Nichols, of Portland. 
 
 CONCLUDING PRATER, by Dr. Parker, of Portsmouth. 
 
299 
 
 SERMON XLII. 
 
 [Extract from a Sermon^preached in the West Church, in Boston, on 
 the Lord's Day after the death of GEORGE WADSWORTH WELT.S, 
 successively Minister of Kennebunk and Groton.] 
 
 Psalms ilvi. 10. BE STILL, AND KNOW THAT i AM GOD. 
 
 I CAN offer no better consolation, I need not 
 desire to offer any better consolation, than this, 
 to my afflicted friends who come here to-day to ask 
 an interest in our prayers, and to receive our heart- 
 felt sympathy. I desire no better consolation for 
 myself under the loss of one whom I loved and 
 valiled; who, from infancy, was an object of my 
 pastoral care, and for whom, from his early loss of 
 paternal counsel, I felt a double responsibility. 
 
 Through life, he was to me as a son to a father, 
 and they who best knew him will know with what 
 satisfaction I must have witnessed the development 
 of his character, and his progress in knowledge and 
 in Christian excellence. J would fain hope that it 
 was permitted me to do something in aid of his 
 
300 EXTRACT FROM A SERMON. 
 
 inestimable mother, now in heaven, in the for- 
 mation of that character. 
 
 He was virtuous from his childhood. At school, 
 at the university, as a student of theology and 
 as a minister of the gospel, an example of fidel- 
 ity. 
 
 He was modest, unassuming, retiring ; yet l firm 
 in purpose, inflexible in right ; ' of high moral prin- 
 ciple ; abhorring meanness and deceit ; never shrink- 
 ing from duty at whatever cost ; sacrificing, as it 
 is believed, life itself to a conscientious conviction 
 of what duty required of him. 
 
 As a husband and father, a son and brother, and 
 a Christian minister, I know not where I shall look 
 to find a better model. The heart-bitterness of 
 those to whom he stood in these near relations, and 
 the warm demonstrations of respect and love which 
 his people have given, in his life and at his death, 
 are his best eulogy. 
 
 If the devoted attention, day and night, of con- 
 jugal affection, of a wife, alas, how early widowed ! 
 if the fervent wishes and prayers of many hearts, 
 could have availed to save a life so dear and valua- 
 ble, ' our brother had not died.' 
 
 It is GOD who has taken the husband and father, 
 the son and brother and Christian minister, affec- 
 tionate, devoted, faithful, from domestic happi- 
 ness and ministerial duty, in the midst of his years 
 and usefulness. GOD has done it. 'Be still and 
 know that it is GOD.' 
 
 It is a striking illustration of the uncertainty of 
 
r.\TRACT FROM A SERMON. 301 
 
 human life, the fallacy of human calculations, that, 
 in visiting a pari>hi<>n< -r. a little before his death, 
 who was sick of an incurable disease, he took a 
 last leave of her as of one who was on the verge of 
 eternity, but that sick parishioner survives, and he 
 is himself laid, for a litt le season, in 'the new tomb' 
 which she had prepared for herself. 
 
 His death was in harmony with his life. In the 
 early part of his sickness he wished to recover, 
 or rather, as I believe, he felt as the apostle felt, 
 when he said, ' I am in a strait betwixt two, having 
 a desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far 
 better; nevertheless to abide in the flesh is more 
 needful for you.' 
 
 He calmly resigned himself to the will of GOD, 
 took leave of the loved ones who were near him, 
 and fell asleep ill Jesus.' 
 
 4 BLESSED AIM: mi: DEAD THAT DIE IN TIM: LORD. 
 YEA, SAITH THE SPIRIT, TOR TIIKY KI:ST I-ROM THEIR 
 
 \M> TMKIR WORKS DO FOLLOW Til KM.' 
 
 VOL. II. 26 
 
302 
 
 SERMON XIIIL 
 
 WHAT IS NEEDFUL FOR THE HOUSE OF GOD. 
 
 [Preached at the Dedication of a Church in Milton, 1829, and first printed 
 at that time.] 
 
 Ezra vii. 20. AND WHATSOEVER MORE SHALL BE NEEDFUL FOR THE 
 
 HOUSE OF .THY GOD BESTOW IT. 
 
 THE temple erected by Solomon was destroyed 
 by Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, about four 
 hundred years after its erection. It continued in 
 ruins fifty-two years, till the first year of the reign 
 of Cyrus, king of Persia, at Babylon. He permitted 
 the Jews to ^return to Jerusalem, from whence they 
 had been carried captive, and to lay the foundation 
 of the second temple. After various interruptions, 
 it was completed and dedicated in the reign of 
 Darius, about twenty years from its commencement. 
 Sixty-nme years afterwards, Ezra, a Jew of distinc- 
 tion, then at Babylon, was commissioned by Arta- 
 xerxes Longimanus, a successor of Darius, to return 
 to Jerusalem with the Jews who still remained in 
 his kingdom, and to take with them their silver and 
 gold, and the silver of the temple, and offerings of 
 the king and his counsellors, to buy victims for 
 sacrifice. 
 
WHAT IS NEEDFUL FOR THE HOUSE OF GOD. 
 
 303 
 
 The words of the text are a part of the commis- 
 sion that was thus given to Ezra. After enumerat- 
 ing the articles which Ezra was to purchase for the 
 house of his GOD, the king adds, * And whatsoever 
 more shall be needful for the house of thy GOD 
 which thou hast occasion to bestow, bestow it out 
 of the king's treasury/ 
 
 The temple at Jerusalem, especially the first, was 
 a magnificent edifice. Its decorations were splen- 
 did, and the preparation for its service expensive. 
 Gold and silver and precious stones were lavished 
 upon it, and flocks and herds innumerable were 
 offered in sacrifice upon its altar. 
 
 It is inconsistent with the genius of Christianity, 
 with the character of its founder, with the spiritu- 
 ality of its doctrines, and the simplicity of its insti- 
 tutions, that its temples should be adorned with 
 magnificence, or its worship characterized by gor- 
 geousness and splendor. It is inconsistent, too, with 
 the simplicity of Congregationalism, whose pattern 
 is the primitive church, which was established and 
 modelled by him 'who took upon him the form of a 
 servant, and Was meek and lowly in heart.' But 
 however incongruous in a Christian temple may be 
 magnificence and splendor, a style of architecture 
 chaste and elegant, decorations simple and beautiful, 
 adapted to the improved taste of the age in which 
 we live, are not incompatible with the nature and 
 spirit of our religion, or with the precepts or example 
 of its founder. If GOD has given us skill, it may 
 be employed in his service, and our ingenuity is 
 
304 WHAT IS NEEDFUL FOR 
 
 well exerted, and our taste well displayed, when its 
 object is to add to the symmetry and beauty of the 
 sanctuary. 
 
 It is honorable to you, my friends, who have 
 called us to this work of consecration, that you have 
 brought, not indeed of your silver and gold, but of 
 the firm and enduring product of your soil, as an 
 offering to the Lord ; that you have deemed it suit- 
 able and proper, whilst these rocks were converted 
 into ' sealed houses to dweh 1 in,' that they should 
 furnish materials also for a house for your GOD. 
 
 And now that you have completed this house, 
 and have consecrated it to HIM for whose service it 
 was erected, I address you in the language of the 
 text, ' Whatsoever more shall be needful for the 
 house of your GOD, bestow it.' Be not back- 
 ward at any time to contribute what shall be need- 
 ful to render it commodious, and to advance the 
 purposes to which it is devoted. Every thing, how- 
 ever trivial, which renders the place in which you 
 assemble for worship an object of more interest, 
 serves to bind you to it and to cement the union 
 of the worshippers. 
 
 You have erected and dedicated a Christian tem- 
 ple. We take it as a pledge that you will make 
 honorable provision for the ministration of the word 
 and ordinances of Christianity, and that you will 
 bestoiu upon them, as you are able, your constant 
 attendance. In justice to yourselves you will make 
 this provision, and will not i forsake the assembling 
 of yourselves together as the manner of some is.' 
 
THE HOUSE OF GOD. 305 
 
 Manifesting, as you have now done, your sense of 
 the value of public -worship, you will not deny your- 
 selves so great a privilege, or encourage, by your 
 example, the neglect o'f an institution so important 
 to the best interests of society. 
 
 But this is not all. The history of the patriarchs, 
 of the prophets, of the apostles, of the truly pious 
 in every age, furnishes abundant testimony to the 
 profound reverence, to the godly fear, to the deep 
 humiliation, with which these holy men came into 
 the more immediate presence of Almighty GOD, and 
 addressed him in the language of prayer and praise. 
 When Abraham stood before the Lord, interceding 
 for the sinful inhabitants of Sodom, he offered his 
 supplications in the garb of humility, and with 
 trembling opened his mouth. * Behold I who am 
 but dust and ashes, have taken it upon me to speak 
 unto the Lord.' When Jacob awoke from the sleep 
 in which he had received a revelation from heaven 
 respecting his own destiny, and the destiny of his 
 descendants, he said, ' Surely the Lord is in this 
 place, and I knew it not, and he was afraid, and 
 said, How dreadful is this place ! This is none 
 other than the House of GOD, and the gate of hea- 
 ven.' When Moses was approaching the burning 
 bush from whence issued the voice of the Deity, 
 that voice badr him refrain. * Draw not nigh; take 
 off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon 
 thou standest is holy ground.' When Elijah stood 
 at the mouth of the cave to hold communion with 
 the Most High, though he remained unmoved at 
 26* 
 
306 WHAT IS NEEDFUL FOR 
 
 the sound of the thunder and the whirlwind, yet when 
 he heard the still small voice, Elijah ' wrapped him- 
 self in his mantle and hid his head.' It was thus that 
 holy men of old came, I do not say without levity, 
 I do not say with seriousness, but with holy rever- 
 ence and awe, with deep humility and self-abase- 
 ment, to commune with GOD. And well it might 
 be so, for they knew the character of the great and 
 awful Being who condescended to admit their ap- 
 proach to him. Well it might be so, for they knew 
 that this Being was the Creator, not of themselves 
 alone, and of the world, vast as it was, which 
 they inhabited, but of the universe ; who spake, and 
 it was ; who might speak, and it would not be ; the 
 4 great and only Potentate ; King of kings and Lord 
 of lords ; ' infinitely greater, infinitely more exalted, 
 than the highest reach of the highest intellect could 
 attain. It was in the presence of such a Being 
 that they prostrated their souls in holy reverence, 
 and hid their faces, and acknowledged that they 
 were but dust and ashes. 
 
 And it is into the presence of such a Being, my 
 hearers, that you will come whenever you enter this 
 sanctuary,' and join in the public acts of religion. It 
 is into the presence of the HIGH AND HOLY GOD, 
 appearing, not indeed as in the terrors of Mount 
 Sinai, but as in the face of Jesus Christ, yet still 
 the HIGH AND HOLY GOD worthy of the pro- 
 foundest homage, and of the most exalted senti- 
 ments of devotion. The ground on which you will 
 stand is holy ground, for it is devoted to the pur- 
 
THI: HOUSE OF GOD. 307 
 
 poses of piety, and will be consecrated by the 
 presence of the MOST HIGH. 
 
 4 Whatsoever shall be needful for ' the acceptable 
 worship of GOD in this house, bestow it. The ad- 
 monition, * Keep thy foot when thou goest to the 
 house of GOD,' implies caution heed watchful- 
 ness lest the deportment be not such as become th 
 the house of GOD, sedateness, serious thought 
 by the way? And the further admonition, l Let not 
 thy heart be hasty to utter any thing before GOD,' 
 implies that every word should be weighed, that 
 nothing should be uttered by the lips, or proceed 
 from the heart, that has not been the subject, as far 
 as might be, of deliberate reflection. 
 
 Let me say, that they are hasty in uttering their 
 thoughts and feelings before GOD, who neglect to 
 make all the preparation they can make for his 
 service ; who spend the season for this preparation 
 in listless indolence, in idle musings, in vain and 
 trilling conversation, in unnecessary business, or in 
 the preparation of the body in 4 outward adorning? 
 and give no portion of it to pious meditation, to 
 self-communion, to prayer for the sanctifying in- 
 fluences of the Holy Spirit, that the approaching 
 service may be engaged in with becoming serious- 
 ness, and result in the fruits of holy living. It is 
 recorded of Lydia, that 'the Lord opened her 
 heart that she attended unto the things which were 
 spoken of Paul ; ' and though the age of miracles is 
 past, we have no reason to think that the Spirit of 
 GOD has ceased to operate on the hearts of men, or 
 
308 WHAT IS NEEDFUL FOR 
 
 that He will withhold now, more than then, His 
 purifying influences from those who seek and 
 desire them. 
 
 Let me further say, that it is next to impossible 
 that any can engage with a proper spirit in this 
 service, who have not thus, by previous meditation 
 and prayer, adjusted their minds to the posture of 
 devotion. If they go to the house of GOD as they 
 go to their ordinary business, or if they go to the 
 house of GOD as they would go to a rational 
 amusement, I will not say that they cannot, but 
 I will say that there is little reason to believe they 
 can perform an acceptable service. It would be 
 almost a miracle if, in a moment, they should divest 
 themselves of worldly thoughts, and present a pious 
 offering. They may indeed, by the grace of GOD, 
 be awakened, when they least expect it, and I had 
 almost said, when they least deserve it, to serious 
 reflection, to an intense and absorbing attention to 
 the truths of religion, they may even come 'to 
 scoff, and remain to pray,' but there is more proba- 
 bility that they will go away as they came, 
 unimpressed, unaffected, worldly, if not sensual, 
 with something, perhaps, of GOD and heaven on 
 their lips, but with little of them in their hearts. 
 
 And where will they go ? Alas ! how many go 
 to plunge at once into the subjects of week-day in- 
 terest which for a time, perhaps, had been banished, 
 and to recall the swarm of vain and busy images 
 which, it may be, for a little season, had taken 
 their flight. How many go (in our cities at least) 
 
TIN; not si; OF GOD. 309 
 
 from paying their homage to GOD, to paying their 
 civilities to ilieir fellow-mortals, often to the annoy- 
 ance of those who desire to be uninterrupted, to 
 have a breathing-time from earthly frivolities, to 
 be alone with their GOD, or in the midst of their 
 families: and often preventing the intrusion of se- 
 rious thought, where, without this interruption, it 
 illicit have been awakened. How many are there, 
 in regard to whom we must take up the lamen- 
 lation of ihe prophet, 4 The ways of Zion do mourn 
 because they come not to her solemn feasts.' How 
 many who turn from l the ways of Zion, to the tents 
 of wickedness!' 
 
 Spirits of our fathers! Ye who fled from the 
 world that ye might enjoy uninterrupted converse 
 with your GOD in a wilderness! Ye who spent 
 your Sabbaths in sweet communion with one 
 another, and in holy communion with your Maker! 
 With what emotions would you contemplate so 
 wide a departure from your pious usages ! 
 
 I call upon you, Christians, you who lore your 
 religion and its institutions, and desire their pre- 
 servation ; I call upon you, citizens, patriots, you 
 who love your country, and desire its real welfare ; 
 to check by your remonstrances, to check by your 
 example, the growing violations of holy time, the 
 growing neglect of preparation- for holy services. 
 
 I call upon you all, immortal brings, probation- 
 ers for eternity, to prepare yourselves for the service 
 of GOD'S house, and to engage in it with seriou-ii- 
 and holy reverence. Never rise to pray, or to offer 
 
310 
 
 WHAT IS NEEDFUL FOR 
 
 praise, without remembering that you rise to address 
 ' HIM who looketh on the heart,' who cannot regard 
 iniquity but with abhorrence, and to whom 'the 
 sacrifice of the wicked is an abomination.' He who 
 stands and ministers at the altar is only the appoint- 
 ed leader in your devotions. If he were praying for 
 you, it would seem, when the subjects are so mo- 
 mentous, when your dearest interests are involved 
 in the success of the petitions, that you would not 
 be indifferent, nay, .that you would hang, in 
 breathless suspense, upon his Lips, lest he should fail 
 to ask what you most need, or to press your petition 
 with sufficient earnestness. But he is professedly 
 praying with you ; and Oh ! how thoughtless, how 
 awful is it, to come with feigned lips, or to turn away 
 your minds, and refuse to bear your part in the 
 offering ! 
 
 Lord ! * Wilt thou not revive us again, that thy 
 people may rejoice in Thee ? ' Thou blessed Spirit 
 who didst erst move 4 upon the face of the waters,' 
 and all was order, proportion, life and beauty, 
 breathe into us the breath of spiritual life, reanimate 
 our languid powers, quicken and strengthen our 
 graces, and rekindle the drooping flame of piety in 
 our breasts ! May that sacred day, hallowed and 
 consecrated from generation to generation by so 
 many prayers, and so many vows, come to us 
 fraught with its holiest influences, and bearing the 
 message of peace and reconciliation. May the 
 praises we offer come up as incense, the repent- 
 ance we exercise be a godly sorrow, and the vows we 
 breathe, be accepted and registered in heaven ! 
 
THE HOUSE OF GOD. 311 
 
 My hearers ! We build material temples for the 
 worship of GOD. We appropriate certain seasons 
 to the purposes of devotion. We come together 
 and unite in paying our homage to the Creator. 
 It is well. GOD is the proper object of worship. 
 Material temples facilitate the united peformance 
 of it, and union in worship may kindle, or keep 
 alive, and render more bright and vivid, the flame of 
 piety. But material temples, as I have already 
 indicated, are not essential to the worship of GOD. 
 We may worship GOD like Isaac in the field, or 
 like Jacob by the wayside, or like Elijah in the 
 desert, or like David in the cavern, or like Peter 
 upon the house top, or like our blessed Saviour in 
 the mountain. For * GOD dwelleth not in temples 
 made with hands. Do not I fill the heaven and 
 earth, saith the Lord ? ' 
 
 Nor is union in worship essential, however bene- 
 iicial and delightful. Isaac was alone when he 
 went into the field for the purposes of devotion; 
 Jacob was alone when he worshipped by the way- 
 side; Elijah was alone when he communed with 
 GOD in the desert ; Peter was alone when he 
 prayed upon the house-top; and our blessed Sa- 
 viour, leaving even the chosen companions of his 
 earthly pilgrimage, l went up into a mountain, apart, 
 to pray.' * Enter into thy closet and shut thy door 
 and pray to thy Father who is in secret, and thy 
 Father who seeth in secret shall reward thee openly.' 
 
 Nor, further, is any time exclusively appropriated 
 to the worship of GOD. One day in seven, indeed, 
 
312 WHAT IS NEEDFUL FOR 
 
 has been specially set apart for this purpose, and 
 we are under solemn obligations sacredly to observe 
 it, but it would be sad indeed if we must wait the 
 return of the Christian Sabbath to hold communion 
 with our Maker. * Every day will I bless Thee.' 
 ' Morning, and evening, and at noon will I pray.' 
 Yes ! the father may pray as he labors for the fam- 
 ily that is dependent on his daily labor for their 
 daily bread, and find his labor encouraged and 
 sweetened by the hallowed influence of prayer. 
 The mother may pray as she watches the sleeping 
 infant that GOD has committed to her charge, and 
 feel herself prompted to closer watchfulness and 
 stricter care, whilst she feels and acknowledges her 
 obligations to HIM who bestowed it. We may 
 * be fervent in spirit,' whilst we are ' not slothful in 
 business,' and be offering sacrifice, whilst we are 
 performing acts of kindness and me-rcy. 
 
 How powerful, Christians, are the motives to 
 habitual seriousness and devotion ! Gratitude, 
 our interest and happiness, present and future, for 
 time and eternity; our perishable bodies, and our 
 immortal minds. Look round upon the face of 
 nature. Behold the tints of autumn diversifying 
 the trees of the forest. The leaves are already 
 falling, and mingling with the earth. At all times 
 there is a voice in nature which reads a lesson of 
 divine wisdom, and we should attentively listen. 
 It comes with a deeper tone of interest when it 
 tells us we are mortal, when, in the scenes which it 
 has sketched with so much beauty, and arrayed in 
 
THE 
 
 OF GOD. 313 
 
 the richest and most glowing colors, it presents us 
 with a picture of our fate. 
 
 But the thoughtless will not heed this voice, if 
 they hear it, and when they look upon the face 
 of nature, it is only with a transient glance, or per- 
 haps a glance of wonder, or of rapture, and not 
 with the steady eye of contemplation, which reads 
 the moral lesson it has portrayed, and reads to 
 learn and feel it. And it is so too much with the 
 votaries of business, for the hum of business has 
 drowned the voice of instruction, and the thick 
 vapor which surrounds them has obscured the 
 objects which might otherwise engage the attention, 
 and come with impression to the heart. And it is 
 so with those w r ho are trifling away life, or abusing 
 it in vicious indulgences. A siren's voice has more 
 power to allure them than the voice of GOD. They 
 follow the guide which leads them along blindfold, 
 and turn not to the light which irradiates the path 
 of duty, and true happiness. 
 
 4 Ah ! my friends/ says the voice of admonition, 
 long ago addressed to the thoughtless and irreli- 
 gious, l Ah, my friends, while we laugh and trillr, 
 all things are serious around us. GOD is serious in 
 calling and bearing with us. Christ is serious who 
 shed his blood for us. The Holy Ghost is serious 
 who striveth against the obstinacy of our hearts. 
 The Holy Scriptures bring to our ears the most 
 serious things in the world. The holy sacraments 
 represent the rriost awful and affecting matters. 
 The whole creation is zealous in serving GOD, and 
 
 VOL. ii. 27 
 
314 WHAT IS NEEDFUL FOR 
 
 us. All nature is full of ardent energy and exer- 
 tion, and is in constant labor and travail for our 
 happiness. All that are in heaven, or hell, are 
 seriously engaged. How then can we sleep and 
 trifle ? We for whose sake this universal zeal is 
 expended ! ' 
 
 The associations* which, in this place, must 
 come up to every mind, impel me to dwell for a 
 few moments, before I conclude, on another theme. 
 We look around upon a fair inheritance. l The 
 lines have fallen to us in pleasant places.' We are 
 enjoying blessings such as belong not to any other 
 nation on earth, and these blessings, under GOD, 
 are the fruit of our fathers' labors and our fathers' 
 blood. The generation which has gone before us, 
 or is fast passing away, has a title to the veneration 
 and gratitude of their successors, such as we never 
 can furnish to those who come after us, such 
 perhaps, as our descendants can never furnish to 
 the remotest posterity. 
 
 The eventful period of our country's history, of 
 which the stones from these hills shall be for a me* 
 mortal^ was a period of solicitude and trial, of which 
 we can now have but a faint conception, and they 
 who gave their days and nights to consultations for 
 their country's safety and welfare, or devoted their 
 wealth to their country's support, or poured out 
 their blood upon the altar of their country's free- 
 
 * See Note at the end of this discourse. 
 
THE HOUSE OF GOD. 315 
 
 dom, are worthy of all honor, if living, of all 
 veneration, if dead. Their deeds should be en- 
 graven on the tablets of the hearts of their country- 
 men, and their memories be held in perpetual 
 remembrance. 
 
 Let a monument be erected on the neighboring 
 heights ; let it bear the inscription of the valor and 
 devoted attachment to their country of those who 
 fought and died there. Thither repair, thither 
 let your children and your children's children, 
 and the generations yet unborn, repair, to learn by 
 how severe a struggle, and at how dear a price, 
 their independence was achieved, and their dearest 
 rights secured to them. Thither let them repair to 
 cherish the flame of patriotism, and render it more 
 glowing and ardent. But this is not all. Oh no ! 
 it is the least for which they should go thither. 
 For to what purpose would have been their consul- 
 tations for their country's safety, if the wisdom of 
 GOD had not enlightened their councils ? or of what 
 avail would have been the valor which encountered 
 danger and death for their country's freedom, if the 
 arm of GOD had not been made bare in its defence ? 
 Yes ! it was HE who inspired their hearts with 
 courage, and nerved their arm with strength, who 
 4 taught their hands to war, and their fingers to fight.' 
 It was HE who was * their fortress and their high 
 tower, and their deliverer. If, then, we commemo- 
 rate the noble daring, the generous sacrifices, the 
 patriotic sufferings, which accomplished the great 
 work of our country's independence, let us not 
 
316 WHAT IS NEEDFUL FOR THE HOUSE OF GOD. 
 
 forget to whom alone it belonged to render that 
 daring, and those sacrifices and sufferings, effectual. 
 Above all, let us not forget to whom we owe it, that 
 a far greater and better redemption hath been 
 wrought out for us by sacrifices infinitely more val- 
 uable, and sufferings infinitely more severe. In 
 every heart let there be a monument erected which 
 shall reach to heaven, and endure forever, and let it 
 bear this inscription GLORY TO GOD. 
 
317 
 
 NOTE. 
 
 THE church at the dedication of which this discourse was deliv- 
 ered, was built of stone taken from a quarry in the neighborhood, 
 from which the stone was taken for the monument at Bunker Hill. 
 It was also near the residence of John Adams. It was to these 
 circumstances that there was an allusion in the conclusion of the 
 discourse. 
 
 a:- 
 
318 
 
 ORDER OF SERVICES. 
 
 The following is the Order of Performances, with the names of 
 the officiating clergymen at the dedication of the Church in Milton. 
 1. ANTHEM. ' In sweet exalted strains,' &c. 
 2. INTRODUCTORY PRAYER, by Mr. Gannett, of Boston. 
 3. SELECTIONS FROM SCRIPTURE, by Mr. Greenwood, of Boston. 
 4. DEDICATORY PRAYER, by Dr. Pierce, of Brookline, 
 5. DEDICATORY HYMN, by Dr. Harris, of Dorchester. 
 6. SERMON, by Dr. Lowell. 
 7. PRAYER, by Dr. Harris, of Dorchester. 
 8 HYMN, by Dr. Harris. 
 
 9. ANTHEM, (From Handel and Haydn Collection.) 
 10. BENEDICTION, by Dr. Richardson, of Dorchester. 
 
319 
 
 SERMON XLIV. 
 
 THE WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF GOD, AS MANIFESTED 
 IN THE APPOINTMENT OF MEN, AND NOT ANGELS, TO 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 
 
 
 [Preached at the Ordination of a Minister, in Lynn, and in Berlin, Mass., 1830, 
 and then first printed.] 
 
 Hebrews v. 2. WHO CAN HAVE COMPASSION ON THE IGNORANT, AND 
 
 ON THEM THAT ARE OUT OF TUB WAY, FOR THAT HE HIMSELF 19 
 COMPASSED WITH INFIRMITY. 
 
 ALL the works of GOD are works of wisdom and 
 goodness. In saying this, I repeat what has been 
 often said, what, indeed, must be the sentiment of 
 every reflecting mind, and the feeling of every de- 
 vout heart. But it is well that it should be often 
 said, as it may excite attention to the indications of 
 this wisdom and goodness where it has not been 
 awakened ; may serve to strengthen the impressions 
 of admiration and gratitude already excited; and 
 may lead to a train of thought which shall furnish 
 new topics of admiration, and new incentives to 
 love and obedience. 
 
 I shall not traverse a wide field in illustrating the 
 
320 THE WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF GOD. 
 
 sentiment I have advanced. It is enough that I di- 
 rect your attention to that manifestation of wisdom 
 and goodness which bears a relation to the transac- 
 tions of this day, which is displayed in the adap- 
 tation of the Christian ministry to the circumstances 
 and wants of mankind. With an opportunity for 
 doing this, I am furnished by the words of the text, 
 * Who can have compassion on the ignorant, and 
 on them that are out of the way, for that he himself 
 also is compassed with infirmity.' 
 
 These words, originally applied to the Jewish 
 priesthood, present us with a touching and beautiful 
 description of the nature of the sacred office. It is 
 designed to enlighten the ignorance and reform the 
 vices of mankind ; and it is entrusted to those who, 
 from their consciousness of their own need of in- 
 struction in knowledge and virtue, may be supposed 
 to have a fellow-feeling and sympathy for the igno- 
 rant and vicious. 
 
 I remark, then, that the Christian ministry is en- 
 trusted to those who are ' compassed with infirmity,' 
 and that we discern in this appointment the wisdom 
 and goodness of GOD. Such is the theme of my 
 discourse. And may HE, to whom, in our ignorance 
 and infirmity, we are permitted to look for light and 
 strength, accompany the teaching of His word with 
 the teachings of His Spirit, that what 4 is sown in 
 weakness,' may be l raised in power.' 
 
 It would be absurd for me to offer arguments to 
 prove that the ministry is entrusted to those who 
 are ' compassed with infirmity.' i I myself also am 
 
Till; WISDOM AND (JOOD.NKSS OF GOD. 
 
 a man ! ' was the language of the first preacher to t lie 
 (i entile world, and the history of the church bears 
 abundant testimony that his successors in every age 
 might with emphat ie propriety repeat the declaration. 
 A man ! what is he ? A creature of contrarieties 
 and inconsistencies, spiritual and material, i ntel- 
 lectual and sensual; resolving, and abjuring his res- 
 olutions ; sinning and repenting ; to-day, soaring on 
 the ardent wings of hope to-morrow, sunk in the 
 lowest depths of despair ; to-day, basking in the 
 sunshine of prosperity, to-morrow, enveloped in 
 the darkest clouds of adversity. The history of the 
 church ! what is it ? The history, too often, 
 of weakness and error, nay, of crime ; the history of 
 the excesses of human passions, of discord and 
 strife, of bitter and endless disputes about the end- 
 less dogmas of speculative theology. I would not 
 be misunderstood, and I therefore add, that if such 
 is too much the history of the church, such it must 
 l.e, for these things are public and prominent. It is 
 not the history of religion, but of false zeal, which 
 is obtrusive and noisy and violent, breaking out into 
 wars, and overturning empires, whilst religion is 
 silently diffusing its blessings, secretly, but effec- 
 tually, working on the human heart, and, in a mul- 
 titude of instances, restraining those passions which 
 it may not eradicate. We hear the rushing of the 
 tempest which levels the forest, and sweeps away 
 the fruits of human labor, while the dews of heaven 
 descend unnoticed by the common eye, though, by 
 
322 THE WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF GOD. 
 
 their silent influence, they crown the harvest with 
 plenty, and make ' the valleys to laugh and sing.' 
 
 It is to man, thus weak and fallible, as history 
 and experience prove him, that this ministry is com- 
 mitted, and how does it manifest wisdom and 
 goodness? Is it not in the mysterious and inex- 
 plicable Providence of GOD, that a treasure so 
 precious is entrusted to a vessel so frail ? Might it 
 not have been expected that, to guard against mis- 
 take and perversion on subjects in which our dear- 
 est interests are involved, GOD himself would 
 condescend to address us? With what awful 
 solemnity, what entire conviction, what deep im- 
 pression, would not the instruction then come to the 
 heart ! Who but would listen, believe, feel, obey ? 
 GOD spake to the Israelites from Mount Sinai, and 
 it was so dreadful that they entreated that the word 
 should not be spoken to them any more. ' And 
 they said with Moses, Speak thou to us, and we 
 will hear, but let not GOD speak with us, lest we 
 die.' And what was the effect of this scene so ter- 
 rible ? When the awful scene had passed, and the 
 sound of the voice no longer vibrated on the ears, 
 yes, even while Moses, at their request, was com- 
 muning with GOD on their behalf, they relapsed 
 into idolatry. 
 
 But, if it were not suitable that GOD himself 
 should instruct his creatures by ' a voice from 
 heaven,' might he not have commissioned, for this 
 work, those ministering spirits who surround his 
 throne, and are employed on his errands of love 
 
THE WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF GOD. 323 
 
 and mercy ? Would not the ministry of angels 
 have been more effectual than the ministry of 
 men ? Let the text reply, ' Who can have com- 
 passion on the ignorant, and on them that are out 
 of the way, for that he himself also is compassed 
 with infirmity.' Elevated, as angels are, above 
 the level of humanity, there would be no com- 
 munity of feeling between angels and men. They 
 might bear the message of peace and reconcili- 
 ation, they might be convinced of its importance, 
 from the declaration of HIM whose word is truth ; 
 they might speak with authority, they might 
 speak with power, they might bring conviction 
 to many minds ; but this would be all. The awe 
 inspired by the presence of a celestial messenger, 
 and the want of sympathy between that messen- 
 ger and those to whom he was sent, would, in 
 most instances at least, prevent the truth, which 
 had found a reception in the understanding, from 
 reaching the heart. Nor is this all. ' Man is born 
 to trouble.' How comparatively cold and ineffec- 
 tual, in his affliction, would be the consolations of 
 those who had never suffered ! And where could 
 be the example of patient endurance, teaching, more 
 effectually than the most soothing language of 
 solace, the efficacy of religion to bind up the bro- 
 ken heart? 
 
 The angel who appeared to Cornelius, did not 
 preach the gospel to him, but directed him to send 
 for Peter. The theme oa which he was to address 
 the centurion, was indeed a fitter theme for angel's 
 
324 THE WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF GOD. 
 
 tongue, than for that of a mortal, but an angel 
 could not speak experimentally as the apostle 
 could, consolations and hopes of the doctrines of 
 religion he promulgated. 
 
 It is here that the Son of GOD, who, having as- 
 sumed our nature, had a ' fellow-feeling of our in- 
 firmities,' is most attractive and interesting, and his 
 example most useful to us ; it is when he descends 
 to exhibit himself as partaking of the sensibilities 
 and enduring the sorrows of humanity. Had we 
 known only that Jesus was the Son of the Highest, 
 that he had been subjected to contempt and igno- 
 miny, to persecution and death, and that, in the 
 midst of all that came upon him, he was patient 
 and resigned, we might say ' He has indeed been 
 apparently subjected to sufferings the most severe, 
 but who can say that they were sufferings to him ? 
 Had he the feelings of human nature ? Could he 
 suffer like as we ? If not, there is no merit in his 
 resignation, no instruction in his example.' 
 
 You discern already, my hearers, from what has 
 been said, the wisdom and goodness of GOD in 
 committing this ministry to men like yourselves, 
 conscious of infirmities and sins, surrounded by 
 temptations, oppressed with burdens, and having 
 the same need of salvation as those to whom they 
 minister. You discern an ability, which even 
 angels would not possess, of penetrating the re- 
 cesses of the human heart, and touching the secret 
 springs by which the actions of men are moved. 
 The study of themselves is the study of human 
 
THE WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF GOD. 325 
 
 nature ; and if they know their own hearts, they 
 know much better than angels could, how to gain 
 access to the hearts of others. 
 
 Possessed of the same nature, actuated by the 
 SMI ne M I lections and passions, agitated by the same 
 hopes Miid tears, liable to the same disasters, heirs 
 of the same sorrows as their fellow-men, they can 
 le tier suit their addresses, than angels could, to the 
 various tempers, and varying humors, and changing 
 circumstances of mankind. Acquainted with the 
 capacity and province of the human understanding, 
 its means of acquiring knowledge, and the obstacles 
 to its acquisition, the best methods of communi- 
 cating truth, and the hindrances to its reception ; ac- 
 quainted, too, with the influence of the imagina- 
 tion, its tendency to extravagance, and able to 
 follow it in its discursive flights, they, better than 
 superior intelligences, can restrain and guide the 
 one, and inform and regulate the other. Conscious 
 of the existence of a moral sense in man, and 
 knowing something, from their own convictions, of 
 the power of conscience, they best can rouse it from 
 its slumbering, and give it a voice and utterance 
 which shall make the sinner tremble. Experimen- 
 tally familiar with the difficulties and dangers of 
 the Christian life, the struggles between the flesh 
 and spirit, the conflict with the world and sin, the 
 deceitfulness of the human heart, they can best 
 portray these dilliculties and dangers, best expose 
 the machinery of the enemy, and best direct to the 
 means of escape or victory. Susceptible, like 
 
 TOL. II. 28 
 
326 THE WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF GOD. 
 
 others, of joyful emotions from the occurrences of 
 life, and dependent on these occurrences for much 
 of their earthly happiness, they are better fitted by 
 their nature and condition, than celestial beings, to 
 take part in the happiness of others, and i rejoice 
 with them that rejoice.' Experiencing, as they 
 often do, the depressing, disheartening influence 
 of those infirmities to which the flesh is heir, and 
 knowing, as they must sooner or later know, from 
 their own sad experience, how profusely the heart 
 will bleed when the closest ties are ruptured, when 
 hopes, however fond, are blighted, and joys, how- 
 ever dear, are withered, they best can sympathize 
 with suffering. Feeling, as it must be supposed 
 they do feel, the power of that religion which it is 
 their honor and privilege to teach, and convinced of 
 its efficacy in imparting strength to the sinking 
 spirit, and pouring light upon the darkened mind, 
 they can speak of this power and efficacy with an 
 energy which experience only can give. Mortal 
 themselves, and sometimes, if not often, in 'bon- 
 dage by reason of death,' from a consciousness 
 of their own imperfections and sins, they can 
 have a closer, deeper sympathy, than immortal 
 natures could have, with the sick and dying. 
 
 Nor is it only in the benefit of their sympathy, 
 and the adaptation of their instructions, example 
 and prayers to the nature and conditions of those 
 to whom they minister, that wisdom and goodness 
 are apparent, in the appointment of men to this 
 important work. In their example, they can speak 
 
THE WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF GOD. 327 
 
 with incalculably more effect than any other order 
 of beings, to the hearts of their fellow-men. To 
 tin 1 example of angels men could never look for in- 
 struction in the duties and trials of life. It can only 
 be to those who are frail and feeble and fallible like 
 themselves. Such are ministers, and, if they are 
 humble in prosperity, and resigned in adversity, 
 Lrratcful for benefits, and forgetful of injuries, if 
 are meek and patient, and benevolent, and de- 
 vout, the transcript they exhibit of their doctrine, 
 has a strong tendency to bring conviction to the 
 mind of its truth and power and loveliness. 
 
 I might go on, but I should weary you. I have 
 said enough, I trust, to convince you, if you needed 
 the conviction, that in the ministry, as it is consti- 
 tutcd, the same wisdom and goodness are discern- 
 ible as in all the other works of GOD. 
 
 And is there no practical instruction to be gath- 
 ered from this subject? CHRISTIAN MINISTERS! 
 there is instruction for you. Whilst you admonish 
 others, there is a silent, yet most impressive, moni- 
 tor teaching you in the nature which GOD has 
 given you. Every infirmity of which you are con- 
 scious, both of body and mind, and alas! who 
 can number them ? is giving you a lesson of duty. 
 Compassed with infirmity, sensible, as you must be, 
 of weakness, and ignorance, and unworthiness, you 
 are taught humility, meekness, forbearance, forgive- 
 ness, and charity; kindness, gentleness, sympathy 
 and compassion; xcal, diligence, watchfulness and 
 prayer. Let it be manifest that you are not un- 
 
328 THE WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF GOD. 
 
 fruitful hearers of this voice which speaks within 
 you. Sad indeed would it be, sad, did I say, 
 what term can I use to show forth its terribleness ? 
 if, with such strong and unceasing admonitions 
 and motives to personal holiness and ministerial 
 fidelity, you should be wanting in either, if, after 
 having- preached to others, you should yourselves be 
 rejected! Rejected! GOD of mercy, save us from 
 a doom so terrible ! GOD of grace, give us grace to 
 be faithful. 
 
 CHRISTIAN HEARERS ! there is instruction for you. 
 Be thankful that the ministry of the gospel is com- 
 mitted to those who can have a fellow-feeling for 
 your infirmities, sympathize with you in your joys 
 and sorrows, warn you of your dangers, and de- 
 scribe, from their own experience, the efficacy of the 
 promises and hopes of your religion. You expect 
 them, and justly, to be eminent for their piety ; 
 but remember they are men, and, if you discover 
 imperfections, blame them not for that nature which, 
 in so many respects, is a just and strong recommen- 
 dation. Be tender of their reputation, it is your 
 interest to be so. Be candid and charitable in your 
 construction of their conduct, you stand in need 
 of this candor and charity yourselves, and allow 
 them to repose themselves on their characters, as a 
 security from hasty reproach. They have many 
 difficulties and trials in the discharge of their duties ; 
 many which you know, and many which are known 
 only to themselves. With them, as with you, the 
 spirit is often willing when ' the flesh is weak ; ' and 
 
THE WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF GOD. 329 
 
 \vhrii you seek an excuse for their apparent neglect 
 of you, or the defects of their services, think of your 
 (nr/i nature, and find it there. But, whilst I ask 
 you to cover their imperfections with the mantle of 
 charity, I would have no mantle so broad as to 
 cover their wilful offences. 'Brethren, pray for us] 
 that, remembering our frailty, we may labor with 
 diligence; and pray for yourselves, also, that we 
 may not labor in vain. 
 
 It has not been my purpose, my brother, by what 
 I have said, to add to the weight of those reflections 
 \\hirli oppress your heart in the contemplation of 
 the transactions of this day. It is true that you are 
 compassed with infirmity, and it is also true that, 
 with all this infirmity, you are about to be entrusted 
 \vitii a commission of inconceivable importance. 
 But, if i we have this treasure in earthen vessels,' it 
 is ' that the excellency of the power may be of GOD, 
 and not of man.' When you are ready, like the 
 apostle, to exclaim, * Who is sufficient for these 
 things?' may you receive, b'ke that apostle, the 
 strength that * is made perfect in weakness,' and, 
 like him, too, ' glory in infirmities, that the power of 
 Christ may rest upon you.' Go forth to this work 
 * in the strength of the Lord, making mention of 
 his righteousness, and his only.' Preach * Jesus 
 Christ, and him crucified.' My brother, we may 
 diilcr in our interpretation of this charge. I know 
 not whether you rely, as much as I do, upon the 
 efficacy of that blood which was shed for our re- 
 demption, though I would fain hope you do. ' Hast 
 28* 
 
330 THE WISDOM AND GOODNESS OF GOD. 
 
 thou faith? Have it to thyself before GOD.' In 
 your preaching be plain, direct, evangelical, earnest. 
 Be not ashamed to have it manifest that your lips 
 give utterance to the feelings of your heart. Re- 
 member the aphorism of the ancient orator and 
 critic, ' If you would make me weep, weep your- 
 self.' Let your soul go forth with a force which 
 you cannot, and would not if you could, re- 
 strain. Preach, yes, preach, in the houses of your 
 people. Preach by the wayside. Watch for souls. 
 May your whole life, and for myself and my 
 brethren I would breathe the same prayer, be one 
 labor of love, the overflowings of a soul fraught 
 with love to GOD and man. 
 
 And now, my brother, farewell. I commend you 
 to GOD, and to the word of His grace, which is 
 able to keep you from falling. My heart's desire 
 and prayer to GOD for you is, that your ministry 
 may be successful, and that, among this people 
 especially, you may be the blessed instrument of 
 'bringing many sons and daughters to glory.' 
 
331 
 
 SERMON XLV. 
 
 WELCOME TO A NATION'S BENEFACTOR. 
 
 [Concluding part of a Sermon on the Visit of Lafayette, in 1 824-1 
 1 Kings, i. 11. AND THE PEOPLE REJOICED WITH GREAT JOT. 
 
 DURING the past week, we have witnessed an 
 event which is unparalleled in the history of nations. 
 The excitement it occasioned has not yet subsided. 
 We cannot fail to bring it with us to this sacred 
 place. It mingles itself with our holy services. 
 
 The recital of a page from our nation's history 
 will illustrate these positions. 
 
 A people, few in number, and with scanty re- 
 sources, are compelled to contend with a powerful 
 nation, for their rights and privileges. 
 
 At the moment of their greatest need, when their 
 cause is almost hopeless, there appears among them 
 a youthful hero, who, by his presence and the succor 
 he brings, revives their drooping spirits, and inspires 
 them anew with courage and ardor. He stakes his 
 life and fortune for their cause. 
 
 The work accomplished, and the blessing of GOD 
 having crowned with success the courage, resolu- 
 
332 WELCOME TO A NATION'S BENEFACTOR. 
 
 tion and perseverance of the infant nation thus 
 contending for its liberty and independence, he 
 disappears. 
 
 A new generation comes into life; attains to 
 maturity ; advances towards old age. 
 
 They have learned, in infancy, to lisp the name 
 of the youthful stranger who, in the hour of their 
 country's peril, came forth to help them. The story 
 - of his deeds has been their delight in childhood; 
 and, when they have grown up, they have told it to 
 their children, and their children's children. They 
 have read of it, and thought of it, and spoken of 
 it, as a thing long gone by. 
 
 Nearly half a century elapses. This people who, 
 when small and feeble, had struggled for their lib- 
 erty, and achieved it, becomes a great and powerful 
 nation. They spread themselves over a vast conti- 
 nent, and two millions become ten. New States 
 are formed. The wilderness blossoms. Cities arise 
 in the midst of the desert. Learning and the arts 
 flourish. Every thing bespeaks opulence, strength 
 arid greatness. 
 
 There comes one from a distant land, to witness 
 this prosperity, and rejoice in it. 
 
 He is an old man. He is a stranger. His fea- 
 tures are not recognized. Yet every heart beats 
 high at his approach, and every tongue proclaims 
 his welcome. 
 
 And how is this ? What is there in this stranger 
 to make him an object of so much interest, that a 
 whole nation opens wide its arms to receive him ; 
 
WELCOME TO A NATION^ BENEFACTOR. 333 
 
 and, with one voice, pronounces a blessing on him ? 
 What is ihriv in this stranger, that every heart 
 should Thrill at his approach; that lisping childhood, 
 and hoary age, should unite to hail him; should 
 press forward, with equal eagerness, to gaze on him, 
 and seize the hand that is extended to all? 
 
 Tliis stranger is he of whom we have spoken; 
 who, long since, in the days of our country's in- 
 fancy, took up her cause, and pleaded for her with 
 the powerful, and fought and bled in her defence. 
 
 This stranger is he whom most of us from our 
 earliest years, and some who are now becoming 
 gray with age, have been taught to reverence and 
 love ; of whose romantic attachment to liberty, and 
 the just rights of mankind, whose wisdom, and skill, 
 and valor, even in early life, we have read with 
 grateful admiration and enthusiasm. 
 
 This is he whom a great nation receives again 
 into its bosom ; the man whom, with one heart and 
 one mind, we delight to honor. 
 
 He remembered us in our feeble state, and we do 
 not forget him now that we are exalted, and pros- 
 perous, and happy. 
 
 Well may * the people rejoice with great joy.' It 
 is a joy which th<^ omnipresent and omniscient 
 Witness will approve. 
 
 And the object of all this joy and congratulation 
 is worthy of it. 
 
 Had he come to us bearing on his forehead the 
 mark of him who was a fugitive and wanderer in 
 the earth ; had the winds, which bore him to our 
 
334 
 
 vshores, been mingled with the groans and shrieks of 
 the murdered victims of his ambition or cupidity ; 
 or had he come with a reputation defaced and 
 blackened by deeds of infamy; or with a body 
 broken down and enfeebled by vice and dissolute- 
 ness, there could have been no such joy. One 
 burst, I will not say of indignation, but of 
 deep regret and sorrow, would have met him on his 
 coming. But it is not so. No. I emphatically 
 say, It is not so. He comes to us bringing with 
 him a reputation pure and spotless ; a character be- 
 fore which, were there nothing else, we might 
 well be constrained to bow with reverence. In 
 scenes the most perplexing; amidst horrors the 
 most appalling; in the court of a king; at the 
 head of armies ; in tumultuous assemblies ; and in 
 the recesses of a dungeon ; he has held fast his in- 
 tegrity, and maintained a consistency of conduct, I 
 believe I may say unparalleled in the history of the 
 scenes through which he has passed ; and a firm 
 adherence to principle, and to his high and noble 
 purpose, which nothing could shake or turn aside. 
 
 Distinguished by his patriotism, as well as his 
 attachment to this land of his adoption, and emi- 
 nent for his private virtues, as well as for his public 
 services, we need not be ashamed to give distinct 
 and emphatic utterance to our feelings, and to bid 
 him welcome with all the enthusiasm that is due to 
 a great and good benefactor. 
 
 I repeat it, our joy and our gratitude are sanc- 
 tioned by religion, and are acceptable to GOD. It 
 
was HE who implanted the feelings which prompt 
 to joy and gratitude ; and who rendered him who is 
 the object of them an instrument of so much good 
 to us. 
 
 My friends, we are Christians; in a Christian 
 church, and assembled for the purpose of Christian 
 worship. It would ill become us to celebrate an 
 earthly benefactor, and pay no tribute to that great 
 Deliverer who came from heaven to free us from 
 the bondage of sin, and the power of the grave, and 
 to translate us into 'the glorious liberty of the sons 
 of GOD.' 
 
 Whilst on the tablet of memory we inscribe the 
 deeds of those to whom, under GOD, our country 
 owes its freedom, we should most deeply engrave 
 there the benefits of HIM without whose religion 
 our freedom would not have been a blessing to us ; 
 who, as the inspired messenger of ' his Father and 
 our Father, his GOD and our GOD,' * GOD manifest 
 in the flesh,' has imparted the highest charm to 
 existence here, and the only assurance of happiness 
 hereafter. 
 
 To HIM, be glory in his church forever. Amen ! 
 
336 
 
 SERMON XLVI. 
 
 HOSPITALITY AND COMPASSION TO EMIGRANT FUGI- 
 TIVES FROM OPPRESSION.* 
 
 [Concluding part of a Sermon preached when a collection was taken up for the 
 relief of Polish fugitives.] 
 
 Matthew xxv. 35. i WAS A STRANGER, AND YE TOOK ME IN. 
 
 I HAVE thus shown you, my hearers, that the 
 characteristic of our religion is benevolence; that 
 benevolent spirits heralded its advent with a procla- 
 mation of c good will toward men ; ' that He who 
 came to teach it was full of this spirit of love ; that 
 to do good was the business of his life ; that wher- 
 ever he went, his footsteps were marked by kindness 
 and mercy ; that as he lived, he taught ; and, himself 
 a personification of GOD'S love, so his doctrine was 
 love ; his precepts love. 
 
 * This sermon was preached some time since, but exhortations to 
 hospitality and compassion are seasonable in all times. Refugees 
 from oppression may often come to us for protection and succor. 
 They should never fail to find it, let them come from whence they 
 may. The directions of Scripture respecting one class of fugitives 
 will be found in Deuteronomy xxiii. 15, 16. 
 
HOSPITALITY AND COMPASSION, ETC. 
 
 337 
 
 I have told you that his disciples took their lesson 
 from him, and went forth to teach and practise it; 
 that they, too, declared that love was the fulfilling 
 of tlit! Jaw; and remembering, repeated the words 
 of the Lord Jesus, how he said, * It is better to give 
 than to receive.' I have told you, further, that, set- 
 ting aside what we find in the history of Judaism, 
 not one trace or vestige has come down to us of 
 compassion for the sick and the poor among the 
 common orders of the people, which was sanctioned 
 by the government, or the institutions, or general 
 measures, of any ancient nation ; that the world is 
 indebted to the influence of Christianity for almost 
 all that lias since been done for the alleviation of 
 human misery. 
 
 We have received this religion, my hearers, as 
 our birthright It is happy for us if, with the name, 
 we have received its spirit ; if we have embraced it 
 with the full conviction of the understanding and 
 the heart. 
 
 An opportunity is now afforded us to exercise 
 the benevolence which belongs to our religion ; 
 which characterized its founder and its early dis- 
 ciples. 
 
 A people once free, and, from their position and 
 their character, holding an important place among 
 the nations; but who, for a century, have been 
 groaning under the yoke of bondage, have made a 
 powerful, but ineffectual, effort to regain their free- 
 dom. 
 
 VOL. ii. 29 
 
338 
 
 HOSPITALITY AND COMPASSION 
 
 Their story has been briefly, but eloquently, told 
 in the address which was read to you on the last 
 Sabbath. 
 
 The greater part of those who were most active 
 in the cause of freedom have have been sent to 
 Siberia ; a country whose name freezes the heart of 
 sensibility by its association with cruelty, dreariness 
 and misery. 
 
 A remnant escaped, and, of these, a few have 
 come, and are coming, to seek an asylum in this 
 land of liberty. 
 
 They come from their homes, not as travellers, 
 to gratify an innocent and laudable curiosity ; not as 
 voluntary emigrants, bringing with them their fam- 
 ilies and the fruits of their former industry ; but as 
 wanderers, exiles, miserable outcasts. 
 
 Home, around which their sympathies, their affec- 
 tions, and their hopes had clustered ; home, in the 
 sound of which, however poor and humble, there is 
 something so inexpressibly sweet to the ear, so dear 
 to the heart, alas, there is no home for them ! 
 
 If they had families, where are they? It may 
 be, that they have perished in the flames of their 
 own dwellings ; or that their blood has moistened 
 the soil which had been tilled for their subsistence ; 
 or that they have been driven, in chains, to the 
 wilds of Siberia, to drag out existence in wretched 
 slavery. 
 
 These fugitives, for whom I now plead, have 
 come from their homes, friendless and penniless ; 
 with heart-rending recollections of the past, and 
 saddening uncertainties in the future. 
 
TO EMIGRANT FUGITIVES. 339 
 
 But they have come among those who can feel 
 for their misfortunes, their misery, and will be 
 prompt to relieve them. They have come among 
 those who are enjoying the freedom which they 
 had struggled in vain to recover ; who would have 
 rejoiced in their success ; and deeply deplore their 
 defeat. 
 
 They have come among those who are blessed in 
 the possession of kindred, and country, and home ; 
 and who can feel for those who have no kindred, 
 and country, and home ; to whom the wide world 
 is a dwelling-place ; and that dwelling-place dreary 
 and desolate. 
 
 They have come, too, at a period peculiarly aus- 
 picious to them; when our country is about to 
 celebrate the anniversary of its independence ; that 
 independence for which some of the best lives of 
 their country were jeoparded, and for which some 
 of its richest blood was shed. 
 
 They have come when we are bending with sor- 
 row at the grave of one who, like them, a stranger, 
 in the darkest hour of our country's peril, took up 
 her cause and pleaded for her with the powerful, 
 and fought and bled in her defence. 
 
 It may well be that our joy for our freedom 
 should be hallowed by our hospitality and kindness 
 to those who have lost their liberty. 
 
 It may well be that we should deem that the 
 noblest monument we can erect to the memory of 
 Lafayette and his associates in the work of free- 
 dom, which is reared by the hand of charity ; and 
 
340 HOSPITALITY AND COMPASSION, ETC. 
 
 that we should all be eager to bring our portion of 
 the precious materials which compose it. 
 
 1 I WAS A STRANGER, AND YE TOOK ME IN.' It is the 
 
 Saviour ; He who came to deliver us from the most 
 wretched bondage, the bondage of sin, who thus 
 speaks. 
 
 There is a powerful appeal to us in the language 
 of the committee to whom it has been entrusted to 
 solicit aid for these necessitous strangers. There is 
 a powerful appeal in the recollection of the cause 
 in which they are suffering ; and of the sympathy 
 and aid we received from their fathers in the dark- 
 est hour of our country's fortunes. There is a 
 powerful appeal in the horrors they have endured, 
 and in the state of entire destitution in which they 
 have come to us. But to the Christian there is a 
 still more powerful appeal in the admonition of 
 the Saviour, and in the recollection that, by our 
 compassion to the miserable, we testify our affec- 
 tion to Him. 
 
 He dwells no longer in this troubled scene. He 
 has gone to take possession of his kingdom, and is 
 exalted far above the reach of all those sufferings 
 and sorrows which embitter the life of man. But 
 the afflicted, the poor, you have always with you. 
 They are the brethren of Jesus, and this is the lan- 
 guage in which He recommends them to your benefi- 
 cence. ' VERILY I SAY UNTO YOU, INASMUCH AS YE 
 
 DO IT UNTO THE LEAST OF ONE OF THESE MY BRETH- 
 REN, YE DO IT UNTO ME.' 
 
341 
 
 SERMON XLVII. 
 
 JERUSALEM. 
 
 Lamentations, i. 1. HOW DOTH THE CITY SIT SOLITARY THAT WAS 
 FULL OF PEOPLE! HOW HAS SHE BECOME A WIDOW! SUE THAT 
 WAS GREAT AMONG THE NATIONS, AND PRINCESS AMONG TME PRO- 
 VINCES, HOW HAS SHE BECOME TRIBUTARY ! 
 
 SUCH was the exclamation of the prophet, as he 
 looked upon the capital of his country, a prey to its 
 enemies, and beheld, in prophetic vision, its future 
 destiny, when the denunciations of the Almighty 
 were still further fulfilled, and the devoted city, 
 having filled up the measure of its iniquities, was 
 reaping their bitter fruit. 
 
 Such must be the language of every Hebrew 
 pilgrim, when he visits the land of his father's sepul- 
 chres, and comes first in view of the venerated 
 place which the prophet had once described as ' the 
 perfection of beauty.' 
 
 It is impossible that any language can be more 
 appropriate to its present condition ; any delinea- 
 tion more just; any imagery more vivid, than is 
 29* 
 
342 JERUSALEM. 
 
 contained in these few words, i How doth the city 
 sit solitary ! ' It sits alone ; amidst a scene of de- 
 solation of which no adequate idea can be present- 
 ed to the mind of one who has not beheld it. 
 
 It has been permitted me to look on that scene. 
 The visions of childhood, the fond, but faint, anti- 
 cipations of mature life, have been realized. 
 
 I have seen Jerusalem, and all the hallowed spots 
 around it; and, as I remembered what eyes had 
 gazed on that scene, what feet had trod that sacred 
 soil, what lips had uttered there the words of peace 
 and consolation, how was I overpowered by the 
 emotions ! What a crowd of holy recollections 
 thronged upon my mind ! 
 
 "We had visited the scenes most rich in classic 
 and historic lore. I had, myself, been admitted a 
 member of a learned society in Athens, at a meet- 
 ing of that society, its members sitting on the 
 fallen pillars and capitals of the Parthenon, so dear 
 to the memory of every scholar. The plain of Ma- 
 rathon, the groves of Academus, the fields of Troy, 
 Corinth, the Hellespont, Constantinople, i Queen of 
 the East,' Cyprus and Rhodes, had passed under 
 our view. 
 
 We had been where the first of poets had sung, 
 the most eloquent of orators declaimed, and the 
 chief of the apostles revealed to the inquisitive 
 Athenians, the knowledge of the only true GOD. 
 
 We had stood in the forum at Rome; in the 
 Acropolis at Athens ; and, above all, on Mars 
 hill. 
 
JERUSALEM. 343 
 
 But what was all this to the scene on which we 
 were now permitted to look ? 
 
 ' Those holy fields, 
 
 Over whose acres walked those blessed feet, 
 Which, eighteen hundred years ago, were nailed 
 For our advantage to the bitter cross.' 
 
 We entered Syria at Jaffa, the ancient Joppa, 
 whither Jonah ' lied from the presence of the Lord,' 
 win TO Peter raised Dorcas to life, and, as he dwelt 
 in the house of 'one Simon, by the sea-side,' saw 
 the vision which taught him that GOD was * no re- 
 specter of persons,' and prepared him to open the 
 door of salvation to the Gentile world. 
 
 We passed by Lydda, where the same Peter, in 
 the name of Jesus Christ, had restored health to 
 Eneas who had been * eight years a paralytic ; ' and 
 over the plain of Sharon, once decorated, and, at 
 certain seasons, now decorated, with a profusion of 
 beautiful flowers, an unenclosed, undulating plain, 
 extending eastward to the < mountains which stand 
 round about Jerusalem,' and northward to Carmel, 
 whose * excellency had departed,' for the curse de- 
 nounced by the prophet had been fulfilled, and its 
 4 top ' had ' withered.' 
 
 We tarried a night at Ramlah, the ancient Ari- 
 mathea, the city of Joseph, in whose tomb was laid 
 the body of our Lord; and which is probably the 
 birth-place and burial place of Samuel, where he 
 anointed Saul to be the first king of Israel. 
 
 We traversed the mountainous country, so sim- 
 
344 
 
 JERUSALEM. 
 
 ply described in the gospels as ' the hill country of 
 Judea,' where the mother of our Lord went to 
 salute her cousin Elizabeth. 
 
 A ruthless and continuous tyranny of eighteen 
 centuries had passed its withering hand over these 
 gardens of Ephraim, and all was sterile and deso- 
 late. 
 
 Notwithstanding, however, the present sterility, 
 there are indubitable marks of ancient and exten- 
 sive cultivation. The traces of terraces for vines 
 are every where visible, reminding us of the denun- 
 ciations of the prophet upon the ' drunkards of 
 Ephraim,' so literally fulfilled, for ' the glorious 
 beauty,' which was in ' the fat valley,' has indeed 
 become a < fading flower.' 
 
 Passing along though a narrow defile, where only 
 one person could pass at a time, and over a road, 
 if so it might be called, filled with stones, and 
 apparently the bed of a mountain torrent, we per- 
 sued our wearisome way through as dreary and de- 
 solate a country as can well be imagined. But we 
 were heedless of dreariness and wearisomeness, for 
 our thoughts were bent on the object we had 
 travelled so many thousand miles to contemplate, 
 and our eager eyes were strained to the utmost, if, 
 haply, at every ascent that we reached, we might 
 descry it. Again and again we were disappoint- 
 ed. 
 
 After several hours' travel, we entered an elevated 
 plain, strewed, I may say, covered with loose 
 rocks and stones, as far as the eye could reach ; 
 
JERUSALEM. 
 
 343 
 
 these rocks perforated on every side, as if they had 
 been aeted upon by some powerful element. 
 
 Suddenly a line of Gothic walls, flanked by 
 square towers, with minarets, and the tops of a 
 few houses above them, appeared before us. 
 
 It was JERUSALEM ! Jerusalem * sitting,' as I have 
 said, as the prophet, many centuries ago, had 
 said, sitting * solitary.' 
 
 That graphic portraiture of its widowhood was 
 indeed here found to be drawn to the very lifr. 
 
 And was it indeed Jerusalem ? Jerusalem standing, 
 it may be, where the city of Melchizedeck, who 
 blessed Abraham, had stood; Jerusalem, built by 
 the grandson of Noah ; taken by Joshua as the chief 
 place of the promised land ; where * David fixed his 
 royal throne ; ' where was Mount Zion ; and the 
 temple of Solomon, ' the wonder of the world ; ' 
 above all, where, two thousand years after its erec- 
 tion, a * greater than Solomon' appeared, and that 
 fearful tragedy was enacted which brought swift 
 destruction on its actors, but pardon, and peace, and 
 life, and immortality to the penitent, throughout the 
 world. 
 
 ' His blood be upon us and our children,' was the 
 imprecation of the deluded Jews, and how fearfully 
 was it fulfilled! Before that generation had passed 
 away, as the Saviour foretold, Jerusalem was 
 a heap of ruins, and, of its proud temple, < not one 
 stone was left upon another.' 
 
 The present walls of the city were built by the 
 Turkish Sultan Solyman, about three hundred years 
 ago. 
 
346 
 
 JERUSALEM. 
 
 Near the gate of entrance on the Jaffa side, is a 
 cave, in which the prophet is said to have written 
 the book from which the words of my text are taken, 
 and, not far off is the ' upper pool of Gihon,' where 
 Solomon was anointed king, by Zadoc the high 
 priest; and, on the way to which, 'near the Fuller's 
 field,' the prophet met Ahaz. 
 
 We could identify the < Fuller's field,' still so 
 called, and we almost thought, that, with our guide- 
 book, the Bible, we could identify the very spot on 
 which the prophet delivered his message to the 
 king. 
 
 Every where, indeed, in the East, we had striking, 
 and often beautiful illustrations of Scripture. How 
 often have we seen the shepherd leading his flock, 
 as the l good Shepherd,' is said to have done! He 
 still ' calleth them all by their name,' as in ancient 
 time, and < they know his voice, but the voice of a 
 stranger they do not know.' 
 
 How often have we seen the * two women grind- 
 ing at the mill ! ' How often have ' the maidens at 
 the well by the wayside,' whither they had gone ' to 
 draw water,' taken down the pitcher ' from their 
 shoulder ' to ' give us drink ! ' 
 
 On the same side of the city with the Jaffa gate, 
 a deep ravine still bears the name of ' the Valley of 
 Hinnom,' where the idolatrous Hebrews offered 
 sacrifice to false gods, and 'where a perpetual fire 
 was kept up which destroyed every thing that was 
 thrown into it. 
 
 A little 'beyond is the ' Potter's field,' which was 
 
JERUSALEM. 347 
 
 purchased with the price of the Saviour's blood ; ' 
 and in \\hich are many tombs, some of which, 
 as is usual in Syria and Egypt, furnished dwell- 
 ing-places for the poor inhabitants. 
 
 It was on Saturday, the third of August, 1839, 
 that we entered the city ; and, if we had respond- 
 ed to the prophet's exclamation, ' How doth the 
 city sit solitary ! ' when we approached it and 
 stood at its gates, how much more ready were we 
 now to exclaim, with the same prophet, 4 Is this the 
 city that men called the perfection of beauty?' 
 The streets were narrow^ crooked, uneven, filthy ; 
 the pavement, where there was one, broken. 
 The plague, though, in most places, it does not 
 exist in the extreme heat of summer, or the extreme 
 cold of winter, was still committing its ravages 
 here. 
 
 The Sepulchre of Christ, Calvary, and the rock 
 rent by the earthquake, so tradition designates 
 them, are all contained within the walls of a 
 church, originally built over them by the Empress 
 Helena, the mother of Constantino the Great ; 
 whose ill-guided superstition has done not a little 
 to baffle the curiosity of the Christian travel hi. 
 
 On entering, you find the Turkish and Arab sol- 
 diers, who guard the church, seated smoking, and 
 drinking coffee. 
 
 Before you, is a large marble slab, over which are 
 suspended lamps, or lanterns, one burning; and on 
 this slab, as you are told, the body of Jesus 
 was laid, to be anointed and embalmed, previous 
 to its interment. 
 
348 JERUSALEM. 
 
 On the left, at a little distance, is a small oblong 
 building, immediately under the dome. 
 
 You enter it by a low door, and observe in the 
 centre of a small, square room, a block of polished 
 marble, on which, it is said, the angel sat who 
 announced the glad tidings of the resurrection to 
 the two Marys. Near to this is another door, 
 through which, stooping, you enter a second apart- 
 ment, about large enough to contain three or four 
 persons. In a recess, is a sarcophagus of white mar- 
 ble. It is without ornament, and covers the place, 
 where, according to tradition, and, I am inclined 
 to believe, according to fact, ' the Lord was laid.' 
 
 There are seven lamps constantly burning over 
 it ; and a coarse painting, and some pots of artificial 
 flowers, are ranged on a shelf above it. 
 
 On leaving this apartment, you ascend about 
 twenty steps, to the place of the crucifixion. Here 
 are shown the holes in which the crosses of the 
 Saviour, and the two malefactors who were cruci- 
 fied with him, were fixed in the ground, and, not far 
 from this, the rent in the rock. 
 
 It would be well if it stopped here ; but you 
 have the place pointed out where Jesus appeared to 
 Mary Magdalene, and that where the centurion 
 went to weep after the crucifixion ; and even 
 where the cock crowed, reminding Peter of the 
 Saviour's words, i Before the cock crow, thou shalt 
 deny me thrice.' I hint at these few things as a 
 specimen of the absurd stories which are told by 
 the priests who conduct visitants, and the conse- 
 
JERUSALEM. 
 
 349 
 
 quent air of doubt which is thrown over objects the 
 most int crest ini:. 
 
 It is a relief to turn to other scenes, on which 
 the mind may repose itself with confidence and 
 delight. The face of nature still endures. The 
 rocks, the mountains, the valleys are there. Mount 
 Zion, Gethsemane, and Olivet are there. 
 
 On the day after our arrival, we went out to the 
 Mount of Olives. 
 
 We passed, on Mount Moriah, near to the 
 mosque of Omar, which stands, as is doubtless 
 erroneously said, on the site of the ancient temple ; 
 and by the pool of Bethesda, a reservoir about one 
 hundred and forty feet long, and forty wide ; dry, 
 and half filled up. Here the lambs, destined for 
 sacrifice, were washed; and it was on the brink of 
 this pool that Christ said to the paralytic, * Rise, 
 take up thy bed and walk.' 
 
 Leaving the city by St. Stephen's gate, through 
 which this proto-martyr is said to have been led to 
 be stoned, we descended the mount, or hill, on which 
 Jerusalem stands, to the bridge which crosses the 
 brook Kedron, then dry, but, in winter, a mountain 
 torrent pur-n'mir its way through the valley of 
 Jehoshaphat, to the Dead Sea. 
 
 On this side of the Mount, is the fountain of 
 Siloam, which 'flowed fast by the oracle of GOD;' 
 and To which you descend into the hill itself by a 
 number of steps. \ot far oil', is the pool of Siloam, 
 with which the fountain lias connection through 
 the hill, to which our Saviour sent the blind man 
 
 VOL. ii. 30 
 
350 
 
 JERUSALEM. 
 
 to wash and be healed, and which is supposed by the 
 natives, to possess virtue in healing diseases of the 
 eyes. It is a small pool of transparent water, 
 stoned, and a stream issues from it, which descends 
 the hill into a reservoir at its foot. 
 
 Crossing the brook Kedron, we came to a piece 
 of ground enclosed by a stone wall, partly dilap- 
 idated, containing eight olive-trees, apparently of 
 great age. This was the Garden of Gethsemane. 
 So tradition has, I believe, uniformly testified. And 
 it may really be so. It is certainly on the Mount of 
 Olives, whither Jesus was wont to resort with his 
 disciples, and, therefore, has doubtless been hallowed 
 by the footsteps of the Redeemer. It may be that 
 he has knelt and prayed there to ' his Father and 
 our Father.' It may be that he there endured his 
 agony, and manifested a submission as unparalleled 
 as his sufferings. 
 
 It was, in that quarter of the world, the first 
 Sabbath of the month, and my thoughts were with 
 those, far off, who are accustomed on the first 
 Sabbath of the month, especially to meditate on 
 the sufferings and death of the Saviour. 
 
 I would fain have spoken to them then, in lan- 
 guage such as Gethsemane would inspire. Or 
 rather, I would fain have had them with me, to 
 listen to the voiceless teachers whose silent elo- 
 quence would reach the heart in tones of deeper, 
 more thrilling interest, than words could utter. 
 
 The scene has vanished. Gethsemane and the 
 Mount of Olives are far away. Jerusalem, in its. 
 widowed, solitary state, is no longer before me. 
 
JERUSALEM. 351 
 
 But I hear those voiceless teachers still. They 
 speak of suileriiiirs endured for me, for you; of the 
 unequalled agony, and propitiatory death of Jesus. 
 Every day may we remember him, and may the 
 remembrance constrain us to live to him, who lived 
 and died for us. 
 
 With Jerusalem, the ruins of Balbec, near the 
 foot of Mount Lebanon, and the beautiful city of 
 Damascus, ended our journey to Palestine and 
 Syria ; and with the ruins of Thebes, the tombs of 
 Sesostris and the Pharoahs, and the Red Sea, our 
 visit to Kirypt, and the East. 
 
 We returned to Europe through the Adriatic, 
 pa ini: the island immortalized by the shipwreck 
 of St. Paul, to Trieste, to Vienna and Venice; 
 then through Italy to France, and from France airain 
 to England. 
 
 We were absent from Paris two years, and, in 
 this extended journey through the north and south 
 of Europe, in Asia and Africa, of many thou- 
 sand miles, no obstacle, of any importance, op- 
 posed our progress ; no accident occurred ; no insult 
 was offered us; not an uiiKiiid word is remembered 
 as spoken to us. As we proceeded, the anticipated 
 1 lions' fled at our approach; the mountains be- 
 came plains, l and the rough places smooth.' 
 
 We had been in the midst of the plague in the 
 Holy City. We were unarmed, \vith the wild Arabs 
 of the desert in the deep glens ; on the rocky, precipi- 
 
352 
 
 JERUSALEM. 
 
 tous cliffs ; on the high mountains, and on the solitary 
 plains. They have guarded and guided us ; they 
 have carried us in their arms where it was dan- 
 gerous or difficult for us to trust ourselves ; receiving 
 only a kind recognition of their services, and such 
 pecuniary compensation as we thought proper to 
 give them. I have, myself, slept on the sandy 
 desert plain, of many miles extent, with no resting- 
 place but the sand, no canopy but the starry 
 heavens, and no one near me but the Egyptian 
 muleteer who was conducting me between Cairo 
 and the Red Sea. 
 
 But we remembered who had said { Fear not, I 
 am with thee ; ' and, ' trusting under his wing,' we 
 were not * afraid of the terror by night, or the 
 arrow that flieth by day,' of * the pestilence that 
 walketh in darkness, or the destruction that wasteth 
 at noonday.' We trusted in HIM, and were de- 
 livered. We trusted in HIM, and are here, to 
 * think of his loving-kindness,' as we do this 
 day, ' in the midst of the temple.' 
 
 4 BLESS THE LORD, O OUR SOULS, AND ALL THAT is 
 
 WITHIN US, BLESS HlS HOLY NAME ! BLESS THE LORD, 
 O OUR SOULS, AND FORGET NOT ALL HlS BENEFITS ! ' 
 
 AMEN and AMEN. 
 
303 
 
 NOTES 
 
 T > Tin: .-KRM .X ON JERUSALEM AND SYRIA. 
 
 ON our way from Ramlah to Jerusalem, we passed through the 
 valley of Elah, a beautiful valley, that is designated a> the 
 i which Saul defeated the Philistines. We crossed a stream, 
 which, as it runs through the valley, is naturally enough supposed 
 to he the brook from which David took the ' five smooth stones' with 
 which he smote the Philistine champion. 
 
 In Jerusalem, and probably in other cities in the East, there is a 
 small gate calle-1 the ' Nei- lie's Eye,' at the side of each of the large 
 gates of the city ; through which pedestrians go in and out. The 
 camels, with their burthens, are driven through the large gate, but 
 cannot go through the small gate without being stripped of their 
 burdens. Is there not an allusion to this in the proverbial saving, 
 which is used by our Saviour in reference to a rich man who trusts 
 in his riches, entering into the kingdom of heaven ? 
 
 The houses in Pali-tine, and the East generally, have flat roofs, 
 on which the occupants of the houses are accustomed to sleep, with 
 stairs often, if not always, on the outside of the house, so that, in 
 descending to the street, it is not necessary to go through the house. 
 We have here an explanation of our Saviour's injunction, Matthew 
 iv. 17. 
 
 The thermometer (Fahrenheit) at Jerusalem, August Itli. 
 at 6 o'clock, A. M. was 68. On the 5th, at the same lion 
 On the 7th, at 7 o'clock, A. M. 6|. It was probably considerably 
 higher some part of the day. On the day before we reached Jeru- 
 salem, it was 90 in the course of the 
 
 An accident befel the thermometer, which rendered it useless dur- 
 ing the remainder of our journey in the East. 
 30* 
 
354 NOTES. . 
 
 Near to Bethlehem, which is about six miles from Jerusalem, is a 
 small Turkish building, that is said to cover the grave of Rachel, 
 the wife of the patriarch Jacob. 
 
 We discovered a large aperture in the back of the building, 
 through which we entered, and found a conical heap of stones care- 
 fully laid together and plastered; which, if not the monument itself, 
 may occupy the place of the monument that the patriarch raised to 
 the memory of his beloved wife. 
 
 Its situation is, as described in Scripture, 'near to Ephrath, 
 which is Bethlehem.' 
 
 The Mahometans regard with great veneration, and preserve with 
 great care, the graves of the patriarchs and prophets of the Old 
 Testament, and of all connected with them. The grave of the be- 
 loved wife of Israel, the Israelites would, doubtless, have guarded 
 with peculiar care. 
 
 The idea that we might be standing on the spot where they * buri- 
 ed Rachel,' excited emotions which may, perhaps, be conceived, but 
 which cannot be described. 
 
 Bethlehem is still entitled to the designation of ' the least among the 
 princes of Judah.' It is a small, inconsiderable place, remarkable 
 chiefly for the poverty of its inhabitants, who are nearly all nominal 
 Christians, and maintain themselves by the manufacture of beads, 
 crucifixes, and other sacred symbols, which they work in mother-of- 
 pearl, or the fruit of the dome palm. The latter, brought from 
 Mecca, becomes as hard as ivory, and is dyed of various colors. 
 They make some beads, also, of a coral called Jussuah, which is 
 found in the Red Sea, and takes a brilliant color, though it is sel- 
 dom found without flaws. 
 
 The place designated by tradition as the place of the Saviour's 
 birth, is enclosed in a church connected with a monastery of Fran- 
 ciscans. You descend by a long, narrow subterranean passage, and 
 come to a small chapel, where an altar marks the spot on which, 
 you are told, was the manger in which the Holy Infant was 
 laid. 
 
 There is much decoration and finery here, as there is in the other 
 places supposed to be connected with the Saviour's life and death, 
 and which serves not a little to interrupt the devout musings of the 
 Christian visitant. 
 
 The situation of Bethlehem is delightful. It stands on the brow 
 
NOTES. 
 
 355 
 
 of a hill, or precipice, overlooking a beautiful valley, in which are 
 vineyards, olive-trees and fig-trees in great abundance. 
 
 On our way to Bethlehem we visited the * Pools of Solomon,' men- 
 tioned in the Canticles or Song of Solomon. They are three in 
 number, quadrangular, and on levels one above another. A little 
 above the upper pool, is an arched vault, where the spring is that 
 supplies the pools, and which is supposed to be the ' sealed fountain* 
 which is figuratively used in the Canticles. 
 
 Of Bethphage, which was about a mile from the top of the Mount 
 of olives, and which is mentioned Mark xi. 1, and Luke xxix. 19, 
 there are no remains. 
 
 Near to Bethany, the way to which is on the side of the Mount of 
 Olives, you are shown what is traditionally called ' the grave of 
 :s.' You descend many steps into the side of the hill to a 
 small room, or cellar, capable of holding three or four persons, in 
 the floor of which is a trap-door opening into a vault about large 
 enough to contain a single body. Here, it is said, the body of Laz- 
 arus was laiti. 
 
 From the top of the Mount of Olives, the Dead Sea and the Valley 
 of the Jordan are distinctly visible. 
 
 At Jerusalem we received much attention from the English con- 
 sul ; from Mr. Nicolaison, the English missionary to the Jews, and 
 from Mr. Laneau, of South Carolina, the American missionary ; as 
 we did afterwards from Mr. Thompson at Bey rout, and had previ- 
 ously from our missionaries in Greece and Turkey. Our ministers, 
 charge- :md consuls every where, were assiduous in show- 
 
 ing us every civility and affording us every assistance in their power. 
 The consuls who were foreigners, were, by no means, less attentive 
 than our countrymen. Among them, Mr. Chasseau at Beyrout, 
 Mr. Hoskear at Christi.mia in Norway, the consul at Ystad in Swe- 
 <U 'ii, Mr. Swartz at Vienna, Mr. Campbell at Genoa, and Mr. Om- 
 brosi at Florence, should be particularly mentioned. 
 
 Damascus, which we visited on leaving the Holy City and its in- 
 tensely interesting neighborhood, is one of the most ancient cities 
 now in being. It existed in the time of Abraham. 
 
 The view of it, as you approach it, is exceedingly beautiful. So 
 it has been described by all travellers, ancient and modern, who 
 have visited it, and so we found it. 
 
356 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 As it bursts suddenly upon you in turning round a high project- 
 ing rock on the top of Mount Lebanon (Anti Libanus), nothing can 
 exceed its beauty ; extending along a rich, fertile valley occupied by 
 gardens, for more than nine miles in extent, and three in breadth ; 
 two or three rivers winding through it ; the trees in gardens of the 
 city itself rising, mingled with minarets, above the city walls. 
 
 The gardens of Damascus, with their fragrant trees, flowers, and 
 their marble fountains, carried us back to the days of childhood, 
 and brought up again to the imagination the enchanted scenes of the 
 'Arabian Nights.' 
 
 The prejudices against, or as it might with more propriety be 
 said, the hatred of Christians, has been stronger at Damascus 
 than in any other place in Syria. No Christian was allowed to enter 
 the city except on foot. If he came to the gate riding, he must dis- 
 mount and walk. On entering, he was treated with great contempt 
 and rudeness, if he even escaped violence. But things have greatly 
 changed. The prejudice is much ameliorated. We rode into the 
 city on our mules, were received kindly, and remained there several 
 days, passing constantly through the streets, and visiting the places 
 the most interesting to us. 
 
 We were informed that General Cass, when he visited Damascus, 
 entered the city on horseback, with his suite, and the American flag 
 flying, and that the governor gave orders that all who were in the 
 streets should rise as the procession passed, and make their obei- 
 sance. 
 
 There is a Roman Catholic monastery there, where strangers are 
 hospitably received, and lodged and boarded without any compensa- 
 tion but what is gratuitous. There are also two or three boarding 
 houses. Our attentive and excellent friend, Mr. Chasseau, the 
 American consul at Beyrout, had given us a letter to the French 
 consul at Damascus, who was very attentive, and furnished us with 
 not a little information. 
 
 j* f ' Ibec, the ancient Heliopolis, or City of the Sun, described 
 ,biar.s as the Wonder of Syria,' about fifty miles from 
 whose ruins (Balbec), though less extensive than those 
 have more beauty in the detail, an interesting and beau- 
 occurred, illustrative of the kindness of the Arabs in 
 
 died our tent on the bank of a small stream at the 
 
NOTKS. 357 
 
 foot of the principal * Ruin,' the Temple of the Sun. After look- 
 ing at the remains of this splendid structure, we went out to visit 
 some other ruins in the village. On leaving the lost of these, the 
 writer recollected something that he wished to look at again, and 
 requested his wife, who accompanied him, to stand still a moment, 
 while he went back to do so. On his leaving her, she thought she 
 would make her own way to the tent, but was soon at a loss, and 
 stopped and looked round her. The door of a house opened and two 
 Arab women came out. They approached her gently, one of them 
 placing a hand upon one of her shoulders, and the other a hand upon 
 the other shoulder, and smiling in her face as if to say * Do not be 
 alarmed, we mean to do you a kindness and no harm,' they each 
 took one of her arms and led her, with the utmost gentleness, to her 
 tent. They had doubtless been watching our movements from a 
 window in the hovel, had marked what was done, had seen her per- 
 plexity, and, with the sagacity of women, had comprehended it, and 
 came out to relieve her. * 
 
 They were women. W^oman is the same kind, compassionate 
 being, the same ministering angel, in civilized and in savage 
 life. 
 
 In the East, there is a species of locust-tree, which bears a kind 
 of fruit that is sometimes eaten. Some have supposed this to 
 have been the * meat ' that was eaten by John the Baptist, but, as 
 there appears to be but little nutriment in it, and as the locust of en- 
 tomology (gryllus) is said to be a great delicacy when salted and 
 dried, and to be gathered in great abundance by the Arabs, and laid 
 up, dried, for winter provision, it was doubtless this insect which 
 was the ' meat ' of John the Baptist in the wilderness. 
 
 We found Egypt, to which we went on leaving Syria, ' the basest 
 of kingdoms,' as had long since been foretold of it ; suffering under 
 the severest and most cruel exactions of ruthless tyranny. It seemed 
 to us that every third person we met had been subjected to mutila- 
 tion, inflicted either by themselves or their parents in their child- 
 hood, to prevent their being torn from their homes to supply the 
 armies of the tyrant. How imperious must be the cruel necessity 
 which would impel a mother to mutilate her child ! But even this 
 was often rendered unavailing by the ingenuity of their oppressor. 
 
 Mehemet AH had redeeming qualities, and deserves credit for 
 some wise and good deeds, lie established a few manufactories, 
 
358 NOTES. 
 
 and two or three seminaries of learning, and lie sent a number of 
 young men to France to be educated in science and the arts. But 
 he had European advisers about him (chiefly French) more enlight- 
 ened than himself, and he was exceedingly ambitious of a good 
 reputation in Europe. 
 
 The lives arid hard earnings of his subjects, however, were con- 
 stantly the prey of his cruelty and cupidity. 
 
 One or two facts will illustrate this assertion. When the crop 
 was ripe for reaping, the agent of the pasha made his appearance, 
 and addressed the owner of it to this effect. ' You have a fine crop. 
 The pasha has occasion for it, and will take it at its value. The 
 tax is so much, (naming a sum probably to three quarters the worth 
 of the whole,) here is an order upon the treasury at Cairo for the 
 balance.' Cairo might be some hundred miles off. If the owner 
 demurred, he would probably be threatened with the bastinado, if 
 it were not indeed actually applied. The poor wretch sets off for 
 Cairo ; buj, has hardly started, it may be, before he is seized by the 
 emissaries of the pasha, robbed of his order, and carried off to the 
 army. If he escapes this, and reaches* Cairo, and presents his 
 order, he is informed that there is no money for him at present ; 
 the pasha wants the money to pay his army, but that he can take 
 the order to the Jews, who will buy it of him and get the money 
 when they can. The Jews are the agents of the pasha, and buy his 
 order for a trifle. 
 
 After wasting some time at Cairo, he starts for home again, and, 
 if he escapes the fate before designed for him, returns empty. Such 
 was the constant practice under Mehemet Ali in 1839. 
 
 While we were at Alexandria, the Turkish fleet arrived, with 
 a large sum in piastres on board. These were disposed of in 
 Alexandria. The pasha immediately issued an order lowering the 
 value of the piastre, and bought them in at the depreciated value. 
 He then issued an order raising their value, and paid out his pias- 
 tres at the increased value. 
 
 Mehemet Ali was born in 1769, in Cavalle, a little port in Rou- 
 malie, of poor parents. Under age, an orphan, he was adopted by 
 an aga. His courage and quickness were remarkable. He married 
 a rich widow, and acquired independence by commerce in tobacco. 
 "When the French invaded Egypt, the Porte levied troops to dispute 
 this province with Bonaparte, and ordered three hundred men to 
 
NOTES. 359 
 
 be raised in the town in which Mehemet AH lived. He took an 
 active part in levying them, ai.-tcd at the battle of Aboukir, dis- 
 tinguished him.self, and, ere long, received the command of one 
 th u-.-in.l men. 
 
 He held this rank when the French evacuated Egypt. He was 
 sent to tight the Mamelukes, whom he eventually exterminated. He 
 supplanted the then pasha, who was unpopular, by the aid of the 
 French consul, and soon threw oft' his allegiance to the Porte. 
 
 It is stated in this discourse, that we were obliged to use great 
 precaution in Jerusalem to avoid infection from the plague. It is 
 by no means a settled point that the plague is contagious. Certain 
 it is that we were constantly compromised in regard to it j riding upon 
 the mules, which animals often died of the disease, and being often 
 lifted upon the mules by the muleteers, who had free intercourse 
 with every one, and took no percaution to avoid infection. We were 
 cautioned to avoid all contact in passing through the streets, even 
 of our garments, with the passers-by, and we had an amusing in- 
 stance of the similarity of the habits of childhood every where. The 
 little girls would run up and pretend they intended to touch us, in 
 order to frighten us. 
 
 -lantinople at the time of the death of the Sultan 
 Mahiimud, and the proclamation of his successor, the present sultan, 
 Abdul Medjed. The funeral of the old grand seigneur was con- 
 ducted with a good deal of quiet and simplicity. His body Was 
 carried in a barge, richly decorated, accompanied by a procession of 
 barges on the Bosphorus, tu it- last resting-place. 
 
 The procession at the first public appearance of the new sultan, 
 reali/ed to us the pictures presented in eastern romance. 
 
 The gorgeous apparel of the attendants on the sovereign, the 
 splendid caparisons of their steeds, and the whole display of magnifi- 
 cence and splendor, exceed description.* 
 
 The sultan himself was on horseback. He wore a large plume 
 (if so it may be called) of diamonds in his turban, but had much 
 less finery about him than those who attended him. He appeared to 
 be, as he was, a youth of sixteen ; thin, pale and effeminate, having 
 spent his life, thus far, within the walls of the seraglio 
 
 His father (degenerate disciple of Mohammed) died of delirium 
 tremens. This assertion is made on undoubted authority. 
 
 * It has happened to the writer to be present at the first public appearance of 
 three sovereigns. Napoleon 1st, Victoria, and the, present Sultan of Turkey. 
 
360 NOTES. 
 
 In Turkey and Egypt, and in Syria as well, the effect of commerce, 
 and of the increased facility of international communication, has 
 been to loosen the hold of Mussulmen upon the religion of the Prophet 
 of Mecca ; and the time is hastening on when they will come into 
 the household of the Christian faith. The late Sultan of Turkey has 
 been thought not to have been unfriendly to such a consummation, 
 and Mehemet Ali, the late Pasha of Egypt, has been suspected of a 
 like predilection. The English and American missionaries are in- 
 directly promoting the same event. 
 
 In Turkey, the sultan adopted not a few customs of European 
 nations ; among them, as many of his subjects are said to have 
 done, the free use of intoxicating drinks. 
 
 The introduction of the system of quarantine into Turkey, as it 
 strikes at the root of fatalism, is a falling off from the Mohammedan 
 faith. It was violently opposed by the people, and a mob of the 
 populace, of whom not a few were women, attempted the destruction 
 of the quarantine establishment when it was first opened. The gov- 
 ernment, however, persevered, and it was fully established. 
 
 Near the close of the discourse to which these notes are appended, 
 I have alluded to our return through Italy and France. 
 
 On leaving Egypt, we went through the Adriatic to Trieste, pass- 
 ing the island which is immortalized by the shipwreck of Paul. It 
 has been commonly supposed that Malta was the scene of this disaster, 
 but this has been clearly shown to be an error by the learned Bryant 
 and others. Some years since, a British naval officer surveyed the 
 harbor of Malta, and at once determined, from the description in the 
 Acts, that this could not be the spot. Indeed, the narrative of Luke 
 himself, places it in the Adriatic, which was the way to Rome, not 
 in the Mediterranean, which was not the way. 
 
 In Rome, on our introduction to the Pope, though he received us 
 very kindly, he disclosed, perhaps involuntarily, the fact that Bos- 
 ton was associated in his mind with the destruction of the Ursuline 
 Convent. 
 
 In the vestibule of one of the churches at Rome, there is a placard 
 on the wall giving notice that, by a decree of Pope Gregory the Great, 
 every person who Says mass in that church shall have the power of 
 releasing a soul from purgatory. The reason of this decree is affirmed 
 to be this : Gregory was one day passing the church, before which 
 
NOTES. 
 
 361 
 
 was an image of the Virgin Mary. Being engaged in thought, the 
 Pope passed without making obeisance to the image. He heard a 
 voice calling him by name, and, on looking up whence it proceeded, 
 he perceived the lips of the statue moving, and heard himself thus 
 accosted : ' Gregory, do you know that you have passed the image of 
 the Holy Mother, without paying homage to it ? ' Gregory imme- 
 diately prostrated himself on the ground, and felt so honored that 
 the Virgin Mother had condescended to address him, that he issued 
 the decree given above. 
 
 In Naples, the priests have in their possession a phial, which, as 
 they affirm, contains the real blood of Januarius, a Roman Cath- 
 olic saint, which they exhibit once a year ; and which is liquid, or 
 congealed, as the priests choose to have it. When it is not liquid, 
 they say it portends calamity, otherwise, a blessing. While it re- 
 mains congealed, the people are in a state of great excitement and 
 distress. When the French had possession of Naples during the reign 
 of Napoleon, the blood remained congealed, and the populace were 
 so much excited, that there was much tumult and great danger of 
 an insurrection against the French, whose presence, it was supposed, 
 prevented the liquefication. The French General in command, sent 
 a message to the priests, that if the blood was not liquefied in ten 
 minutes after the message was received, he would take off all their 
 heads. The effect was instantaneous. The blood was immediately 
 exhibited to the people in a state of liquefication, and the tumult 
 subside* 1. 
 
 The Italian character has been much misrepresented. We were 
 domesticated in Rome a number of months, and had frequent and 
 familiar intercourse with respectable families, and nowhere have we 
 seen more domestic affection or more propriety and delicacy of beha- 
 vior than there. The writer, before his first visit to Italy, was 
 assured by his friend, M. Coqueril, the eminent Protestant minister 
 in France, who had resided long in Italy, that he would find the 
 Italian character as above represented. In regard to their integrity 
 and sense of honor, Mr. Hammatt, the American consul at Naples, 
 stated that he had been engaged in business transactions there for a 
 good many years, to a great amount, and that he had not lost a 
 fiirthing by a bad debt. There is, undoubtedly, much dissoluteness 
 and trickery here, as well as elsewhere, but much less than has been 
 imputed to them. 
 
 VOL. n. 31 
 
362 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 There is much scepticism in Italy, and even in Imperial Rome 
 itself, at least among professional men and the higher classes, in 
 regard to the Roman Catholic faith. This was communicated to us 
 with a freedom which surprised us. 
 
 In all the Italian states there is an ardent aspiration after political 
 freedom, but little or no prospect, at present, at least, of their ob- 
 taining it. The system of Austrian espionage is complete j and 
 Austrian bayonets are always at hand to put an end to any symptom 
 of revolution. The sad indifference to their fate, both in Europe and 
 America, damps the hope of any assistance from abroad. The fate 
 of Hungary is too recent and too striking to give them much, if any, 
 encouragement. The mildest government in Italy is the Tuscan, 
 but there is as much desire for a change there as elsewhere. 
 
 In France, every thing, with respect to religion, is unsettled. 
 There is undoubtedly much scepticism, certainly as it regards 
 Popery, but the French, as was stated by the eminent Protestant 
 minister to whom I have before referred, are seeking a religion. 
 France, I think, will become a Protestant country, though it may 
 be long first, as only one thirtieth of its population are Protes- 
 tants. The rest are nominally Roman Catholics ; but many are 
 actually sceptics, or in a state of transition from Roman Catholicism 
 to Protestantism. In the House of Peers there are sixteen Protestants, 
 (1839). In the House of Assembly one twentieth are Protestants. 
 
 No questions are ever asked in the elections, or appointments to 
 office, respecting the religious belief. It was so, at least, in 1839. 
 The policy of the present government of France is intolerant and 
 persecuting. How far this may accelerate or retard the progress of 
 Protestantism, remains to be seen. 
 
BOSTON, 135 WASHISSTOJJ STRUT. 
 DBCEHBEK, 1854. 
 
 NEW BOOKS AND NEW EDITIONS 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 TICKNOH AND FIELDS. 
 
 THOMAS DE QUINCEY'S WRITINGS. 
 CONFESSIONS OF AN ENGLISH OPIUM-EATER, AND 
 
 8USPIRIA DE PROFUNDIS. With Portrait. Price 75 cent*. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL ESSAYS. Price 75 cents. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS ESSAYS. Price 75 cents. 
 
 THE CAESARS. Price 75 cents. 
 
 LITERARY REMINISCENCES. 2 Vols. Price $1.50. 
 
 NARRATIVE AND MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 2 Vols. 
 
 Price $1.50. 
 
 ESSAYS ON THE POETS, &c. 1 vol. 16mo. 75 cents. 
 HISTORICAL AND CRITICAL ESSAYS. 2 vols. $1.50. 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHIC SKETCHES. 1 vol. Price 75 cents. 
 ESSAYS ON PHILOSOPHICAL WRITERS, &c. 2 vols. 
 
 16mo. $1.50. 
 
 LETTERS TO A YOUNG MAN, AND OTHER PAPERS. 
 
 1 vol. Price 75 cents. 
 
 THEOLOGICAL ESSAYS AND OTHER PAPERS. 2 
 Tola. Price $1.50. 
 
 ALFRED TENNYSON'S WRITINGS. 
 
 POETICAL WORKS. With Portrait. 2 vols. Cloth. $1.50. 
 THE PRINCESS. Boards. Price 50 cents. 
 IN MEMORIAM. Cloth. Price 75 cents. 
 
A LIST OF BOOKS PUBLISHED 
 
 HENRY W. LONGFELLOW'S WRITINGS. 
 
 THE GOLDEN LEGEND. A Poem. Just Published. 
 
 Price $1.00. 
 
 POETICAL WORKS. This edition contains the six Vol- 
 umes mentioned below. In two volumes. 16mo. Boards. $2.00. 
 
 In Separate Volumes, each 75 cents. 
 VOICES OF THE NIGHT. 
 BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. 
 SPANISH STUDENT ; A PLAY IN THREE ACTS. 
 BELFRY OF BRUGES, AND OTHER POEMS. 
 EVANGELINE ; A TALE OF AcADIE. 
 THE SEASIDE AND THE FIRESIDE. 
 
 THE WAIF. A Collection of Poems. Edited by Longfellow. 
 THE ESTRAY. A Collection of Poems. Edited by Longfellow. 
 
 MR. LONGFELLOW'S PROSE WORKS. 
 HYPERION. A ROMANCE. Price $1.00. 
 OUTRE- ME R. A PILGRIMAGE. Price $1.00. 
 KAVANAGH. A TALE. Price 75 cents. 
 
 Illustrated editions of EVANGELINE, POEMS, HYPERION, and 
 
 THE GOLDEN LEGEND. 
 
 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES'S WRITINGS. 
 
 4 
 
 POETICAL WORKS. With fine Portrait. Boards. $1.00. 
 ASTR^EA. Fancy paper. Price 25 cents. 
 
 BARRY CORNWALL'S WRITINGS. 
 
 ENGLISH SONGS AND OTHER SMALL POEMS. En- 
 larged Edition. Price $1.00. 
 
 ESSAYS AND TALES IN PROSE. 2 vols. Price $1.50. 
 
BY TICKNOR AND FIELDS. 
 
 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE'S WRITINGS. 
 
 TWICE-TOLD TALES. Two volumes. Price $1.00. 
 THE SCARLET LETTER. Price 75 cents. 
 THE HOUSE OF THE SEVEN GABLES. Price $1.00. 
 THE SNOW IMAGE, AND OTHER TWICE-TOLD 
 
 TALES Price 75 cents. 
 
 THE BLITHEDALE ROMANCE. Price 75 cents. 
 MOSSES FROM AN OLD MANSE. New Edition. 2 vols. 
 
 Price $1.50. 
 
 TRUE STORIES FROM HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 "With four fine Engravings. Price 75 cents. 
 
 A WONDER-BOOK FOR GIRLS AND BOYS. With seven 
 
 fine Engravings. Price 75 cents. 
 
 TANGLEWOOD TALES. Another 'Wonder-Book.' With 
 
 Engravings. Price 88 cent*. 
 
 LIFE OF GEN. PIERCE. 1vol. 16mo. Cloth. 60 cts. 
 
 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL'S WRITINGS. 
 COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS. Revised, with Additions. 
 
 In two volumes, Ibino. Cloth. Price $1.50. 
 
 SIR LAUNFAL. New Edition. Price 25 cents. 
 
 A FABLE FOR CRITICS. New Edition. 
 
 THE BIGLOW PAPERS. A New Edition. Price 63 cents. 
 
 EDWIN P. WHIPPLE'S WRmNGS. 
 
 ESSAYS AND REVIEWS. 2 vols. Price $2.00. 
 LECTURES ON SUBJECTS CONNECTED WITH LIT- 
 
 KHATURE AND LIFE. Trice 63 cents. 
 
 WASHINGTON AND THE REVOLUTION. Price 20 cto. 
 
A LIST OF BOOKS PUBLISHED BY TICKNOR & FIELDS. 
 
 JOHN G. WHITTIER'S WRITINGS. 
 
 OLD PORTRAITS AND MODERN SKETCHES. 75 cents. 
 MARGARET SMITH'S JOURNAL. Price 75 cents. 
 SONGS OF LABOR, AND OTHER POEMS. Boards. 50 cts. 
 THE CHAPEL OF THE HERMITS. Cloth. 50 cents. 
 LITERARY RECREATIONS AND MISCELLANIES. 
 
 Cloth. $1.00. 
 
 GEORGE S. HILLARD S WRITINGS. 
 
 SIX MONTHS IN ITALY. 2 vols. 16mo. Price $2.50. 
 DANGERS AND DUTIES OF THE MERCANTILE 
 
 PROFESSION. Price 25 cents. 
 
 HENRY GILES'S WRITINGS. 
 
 LECTURES, -ESSAYS, AND MISCELLANEOUS WRIT- 
 INGS. 2Yols. Price $1.50. 
 DISCOURSES ON LIFE. Price 75 cents. 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS OF GENIUS. Cloth. $1.00. 
 
 \ 
 
 R. H. STODDARD'S WRITINGS. 
 
 POEMS. Cloth. Price 63 cents. 
 
 ADVENTURES IN FAIRY LAND. Price 75 cents. 
 
 BAYARD TAYLOR'S WRITINGS. 
 
 ROMANCES, LYRICS AND SONGS. Cloth. Price 63 cts. 
 POEMS OF THE ORIENT. Cloth. 75 cents. 
 
 WILLIAM MOTHERWELL'S WRITINGS. 
 
 POEMS, NARRATIVE AND LYRICAL. New Ed. $1.25. 
 POSTHUMOUS POEMS. Boards. Price 50 cents. 
 MINSTRELSY, ANC. AND MOD. 2 Vols. Boards. $1.50. 
 

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY