y- 
 
 ■■:■ ■n' -ff .f 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 University of California, 
 
 GIF^T OK 
 
 Mrs. SARAH P. WALSWORTH. 
 
 Received October, 1894. 
 t^ccessions No. ^^{J (riy Class No. 
 
 f ■ 
 

 V,/^ 
 
'O^ 
 
 '^vv;^^>^iiV>- ^v 
 
MISCELLANEOUS 
 
 S E E M N S. 
 
 BY THK 
 
 REV. SYDNEY SMITH, A.M., 
 
 LATE FELLOW OF NEW COLLEGE, OXFORD ; RECTOR OF FOSTON, IN YORKSHIRE; 
 
 PREACHER AT THE FOUNDLING, AND AT BERKELEY, 
 
 AND FITZROY CHAPELS. 
 
 COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 CAREY AND HART 
 
 1846. 
 

 jrW6r 
 
 PHILADELPHIA '. 
 
 T. K. & P. G. COLLINS, 
 
 PRINTERS. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 On Repentance, Part I. 
 On Repentance, Part II. 
 On Truth . . . . 
 
 On the Education of the Poor - 
 On the Importance of Public Worship 
 On the Fast Day, Feb. 28, 1808 
 On the Utility of meditating on Death 
 For the Blind - - - - 
 
 On Duty to Parents 
 On the Government of the Heart 
 On Good Friday 
 
 On the Judgments we form of Others ■ 
 Oft the Love of our Country 
 On Skepticism - - - . 
 
 The Poor Magdalene - 
 Upon the best Mode of Charity 
 On Methodism - - - . 
 
 On Riches - - - . 
 
 On Swearing - - - . 
 
 On Meekness - - - . 
 
 ..On the Mode of passing the Sabbath 
 On the Errors of Youth 
 On Self-Examination 
 On Dissipation - - - . 
 
 On the Conversion of St. Paul - 
 On Temptation, Part I. 
 On Temptation, Part II. 
 
 PAOl 
 
 13 
 
 20 
 
 27 
 
 33 
 
 40 
 
 47 
 
 64 
 
 60 
 
 66 
 
 72 
 
 79 
 
 85 
 
 91 
 
 101 
 
 109 
 
 116 
 
 122 
 
 130 
 
 137 
 
 142 
 
 148 
 
 154 
 
 161 
 
 168 
 
 175 
 
 181 
 
 187 
 
IV CONTENTS. 
 
 PAOS 
 
 For the Humane Society - - - - - 193 
 On the Effects which Christianity ought to produce upon 
 
 Manners ------- 200 
 
 For the Swiss ------- 207 
 
 On Toleration ------- 215 
 
 On Vanity - - . - . - - 223 
 
 On Suicide - - 229 
 
 On Revenge ------- 236 
 
 On the Treatment of Servants ----- 242 
 
 On Men of the World ------ 245 
 
 On the Folly of being ashamed of Religion - - - 257 
 
 On Invasion ------- 263 
 
 Upon the special Interference of Providence - - - 272 
 
 On True Religion - - - - - - 276 
 
 On the Immortality of the Soul - - - - 283 
 
 On the Pleasures of Old Age - - - - - 290 
 
 On the Effects which the Tumultuous Life, passed in great 
 
 Cities, produces upon the Moral and Religious Character 296 
 
 On the Character and Genius of the Christian Religion - 301 
 
 For the Scotch Lying-in Hospital - - - - 306 
 
 On the Pleasures of Religion - - - - - 313 
 
 Upon Religious Education ----- 320 
 
 On the Use and Abuse of the World - - - - 327 
 
 On the Resurrection ------ 333 
 
 On Seduction - - - - - - - 339 
 
 A Fragment on the Irish Roman Catholic Church - - 347 
 
:Y 
 
 SERMON I. 
 
 ON REPENTANCE. 
 PART I. 
 
 In those days came John the Baptist, preaching in the wilderness of Judea, 
 and saying, repent ye, for the kingdom of Heaven is at hand. — Matthew 
 
 in. VERSE 1. 
 
 In treating of the duty of repentance we must particularize 
 those signs which are to be considered as characteristic of a 
 repentance efficacious to salvation ; and I think we may say, 
 that such repentance should be sincere, timely, continuous, 
 and just. 
 
 First. The greatest of all follies is a mockery of God by 
 insincere repentance, by that fluctuation between sin, and 
 sorrow, resolution and infringement, — by that endless circle 
 of penitence, and crime, which they tread, who know virtue 
 only by its labours, and extract nothing from guilt but re- 
 morse. The first stage of repentance is in every man's 
 power, and almost in every man's practice. If sighs and 
 tears could purchase the kingdom of Heaven, and a sad face 
 expiate a wicked life, hardness of heart would indeed be 
 weakness of understanding: but, though God is merciful, he 
 is not fallible, nor will he take the odour of sacrifices, or the 
 incense of words, in the lieu of a solid, laborious virtue. In 
 the Christian religion there is no compensation, no arrange- 
 ment, no shifting, no fluctuation, no dalliance with duties, no 
 deference to darling vices : if the eye offends us, we must 
 pluck it out; if the hand is sinful, we must cut it off*. — Better 
 to merit heaven by every suffering, than eternal punishment 
 by every gratification. 
 
 We may see, by this striking passage, the absolute neces- 
 sity of abandoning the vice, before repentance can be effec- 
 2 
 
14 ON REPENTANCE. 
 
 tual to salvation. Our blessed Saviour departs from his usual 
 mildness of speech; he does not say, if thine eye is evil 
 anoint it ; if thine hand is diseased heal it ; but pluck it out, 
 cut it off, tear it from thee ; he requires that a man should 
 rise above himself ; that the thought of heaven should breathe 
 into him a moral fortitude ; that he should be great in pur- 
 pose, rapid in action, unshaken in constancy ; that he should 
 tear out his ambition, his revenge, his avarice, and all the 
 harlot passions he has wooed, and trample them beneath his 
 feet ; that he should feel that noble persuasion which the 
 great apostle felt, — that neither death, nor life, nor princi- 
 palities, nor powers, should separate him from the love of 
 God. 
 
 Not that our blessed Saviour intends to say, by the ex- 
 pressions I have quoted, that the only mode of effecting a 
 change is by such sudden, and vigorous resolutions ; but that, 
 where sudden and vigorous resolutions are necessary, any 
 violence done to habit, any pain endured by depriving our- 
 selves of enjoyments to which we have been accustomed, is 
 not for an instant to be weighed against the danger of retain- 
 ing the sin> or the advantage of abjuring it. A certain por- 
 tion of time, indeed, and a certain gradation in improvement, 
 must be allowed to the infirmities of our nature ; and that 
 repentance is not unacceptable to God where there is progress 
 in righteousness. Whichever of us all can look back at the 
 time past with the pleasing certainty that he has acquired a 
 greater power over any one bad passion ; that his virtuous 
 resolutions are more constantly observed; that the habit of 
 doing good, and saying good, and thinking good, are growing 
 stronger and stronger in his heart ; — the repentance of that 
 man is a repentance which leads to salvation, and he is be- 
 coming more fit for the kingdom of heaven, as he approaches 
 nearer to it. 
 
 Smcere repentance consists not only in abstaining, but in 
 justice, in making restitution, or compensation for the injuries 
 we have committed against our fellow-creatures. These are 
 duties from which no lapse of time, and hardly any alteration of 
 circumstances, can ever exempt us. It is never too late to do 
 justice ; if we die without doing it, the gates of God's mercy 
 are shut against us, and we can have no benefit from the 
 cross of Christ. If seas and mountains separate us from the 
 being we have injured, we should pass over mountains and 
 seas to find him ; to beg his prayers to God, and to restore to 
 
ON REPENTANCE. IS 
 
 him wine, and oil, and vineyards, and olive yards, tenfold for 
 all we have taken. If the grave hides him from us, we should 
 visit his children's children with blessings, and be thankful 
 that one vestige of his race existed upon the earth. No man 
 can know rest, or peace, while there remains in his heart the 
 remembrance of a crime for which he has made no atone- 
 ment. If you have taken aught of any man, give it back ; 
 and, when it is gone, your soul will be at ease. — If you have 
 done secret wrong to his name, come out to the light of day, 
 and restore innocence to the dignity it has lost. Shame is 
 bad, and infamy is bad, and blushes are bad ; but the wrath 
 of God is worse than all these ; — .it is more bitter than the 
 curses of a nation, and fiercer than an army with banners. 
 
 If the danger of not restoring should alarm us, there is 
 something in the pleasure of restitution which may allure us ; 
 it eases our shoulders from the burthen of sin, it appeases the 
 restless anger of conscience, and renders the mind cheerful 
 and serene ;— if it takes away the stalled ox, it dissipates 
 hatred; if it leaves the dinner of herbs, they are seasoned 
 with content. Did any man, who had overcome the first 
 difficulty of doing justice, ever repent of the eflx)rt he had 
 made ? — Did he ever say, my feelings of guilt were better 
 than my feelings of innocence — I am disappointed by right- 
 eousness, and I wish to reclaim the wages of sin which I 
 have unadvisedly refunded ? Death, says the son of Sirach, 
 is terrible to him who lives at ease in his possessions ; but 
 death is tenfold more terrible to him who lives in misery 
 amid his possessions, with the consciousness that he ought 
 never to have enjoyed them ; that, year after year, he has 
 been reaping the fruits of injustice ; that the time is now gone 
 by in which he might have pacified both God and man ; and 
 that nothing remains but a sorrow which no repentance can 
 prevent, and which no time can cure. 
 
 If restitution is impossible, compensation is almost always 
 in our power, — a compensation proportioned to our means. 
 There is hardly any man so intrenched in happiness that he 
 is utterly inaccessible to acts of kindness. Any signs of hum- 
 ble benevolence, any real contrition of the heart, towards an 
 injured person, God will accept ; if it is the only compen- 
 sation which accident enables us to make. — The sin which 
 God never will forgive, is that cold and barren penitence 
 which is only sorrowful because it cannot reconcile the feel- 
 ings of virtue with the profits of crime. I allow that it is 
 
n 
 
 ON REPENTANCE. 
 
 difficult to do justice, that it is difficult to compensate, and 
 difficult to restore ; but one great effort is less costly than a 
 - thousand moments of remorse ; — it is better to do that violence 
 to your feelings, which every subsequent moment will convert 
 into a more powerful source of happiness, than to retain any 
 object of your desire, which every moment will convert into 
 a more powerful cause of reproach. — The fruits of fraud and 
 injustice are yours as a diseased limb is yours, for pain and 
 for weakness, not for enjoyment : health does not make it an 
 auxiliary ; but adhesion makes it a burden. If the life which 
 God gave has left it, my hand is no hand to me ; and if riches, 
 and honour, and power, and every earthly blessing, are not 
 founded upon righteousness, which is their health, and their 
 life, they are not blessings, but burthen, and anguish, and 
 disease, and death. 
 
 I have, hitherto, principally insisted upon the necessity of 
 justice as an ingredient of sincere repentance ; but there can 
 be no very sincere repentance without sorrow. — Indeed, un- 
 less the evils and apprehensions to which sin gives birth, 
 are so powerfully impressed upon the mind as to fill it with 
 sadness, there is httle security for that part of repentance 
 which consists in action. — Much is due, also, to the offended 
 Majesty of Heaven ; we must not confess our impurities to 
 God with an unshaken spirit ; we must not lift up an un- 
 daunted face towards his throne, and breathe out the sad 
 story of our lives in the firm accents of a fearless voice. 
 " The publican, standing afar off, would not so much as lift 
 up his eyes to Heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God 
 he merciful to me a sinner. ^^I tell you this man went down 
 to his house justified rather than the other, "^^ 
 
 Repentance must not only be sincere and just, but it must 
 be timely ; — it must take place at such a period as will enable 
 US to make a sohd, real sacrifice of unlawful enjoyment to a 
 sense of Christian duty. Satiety is often mistaken for re- 
 pentance, and many give up the offence, when they have lost all 
 appetite for its commission ; — change of body is mistaken for 
 change of mind, and he who quits a vice, become unnatural 
 X to his period of life, deems himself a progressive penitent ; 
 and believes he is receding from pleasure, because pleasure 
 is receding from him. 
 
 To repent of passions, when passions are sweet and strong, 
 has the merit of virtue, because it has the difficulty; to oppose 
 languor, to chain down inertness ; and to vanquish imbecility. 
 
ON REPENTANCE. 
 
 '^ 
 
 is to offer to the Lord our God that which costs us nothing; 
 and to claim the kingdom of heaven for not doing that which 
 we cannot do. — Truiy blessed is he who arrests himself in 
 the middle career of pleasure, while he has yet numbered but 
 few days, and a fair portion of life is still before him. God 
 loveth the hoary hairs of the righteous ; but when they who 
 are far from the grave, when the young, the beautiful, and 
 the strong, turn to the Lord their God in weeping, in fasting, 
 and repentance, then is the great victory of Christ over sin ; 
 then, truly, are the ninety and nine just persons forgotten; 
 and the joy in heaven is exceeding great. Seriousness, in 
 old age, we in some degree attribute to bodily causes ; the 
 early and rational repentance of a young person, disgusted 
 with the first aspect of sin, is the most genuine and beautiful 
 form of repentance ; it affords us the example of temptation 
 resisted when it is the strongest, apology rejected when it is 
 the most natural, and the laws of religion respected, when the 
 chance of atoning for their violation is the most complete. 
 No exception from the common course of passions can be 
 more beautiful, no goodness more unequivocal, more useful 
 to man as an example, and more grateful to God as a sacrifice. 
 
 If there be gradations in the rewards we are to receive 
 hereafter, and many mansions in the house of the Father, to 
 what height of excellence will he arrive, and to what emi- 
 nence of reward will he attain, who sees before him half a 
 life of progressive improvement ? The work of righteousness 
 begins with the dawn of reason, to terminate in the darkness 
 of death ; and the advanced point at which we are found, at 
 the conclusion of our labours, must, of course, depend on the 
 period at which they have commenced, and the vigour with 
 which they have been prosecuted. Any repentance is better 
 than a lasting obstinacy in sin ; but it is young repentance 
 which sanctifies an human soul here upon earth, which 
 cleanses it from the passions of the flesh, and fills it full of 
 sweet, holy, everlasting godliness. If the feeble efforts of 
 old age are all we can give up to the purification of the soul, 
 death will overtake us labouring and toiling at the very basis 
 of the eminence ; it ought to overtake us near the summit, 
 standing on the very confines of the first and the latter world ; 
 calm, tranquil, clear of every earthly feeling, and waiting for 
 the hour of God, when he will call us to the dwelHngs of 
 peace. 
 
 If these observations upon the necessity of a timely repent-' 
 
 2* 
 
18 ON REPENTANCE. 
 
 ance be true, it follows, of course, that what is commonly 
 termed a death-bed repentance, can be of no avail to the at- 
 tainment of immortal salvation. Indeed, if we were not aware 
 of what a fallacious reasoner vice is, we should be astonished 
 that such an absurdity should enter into the mind of man ; as if 
 the sin which begins in youth, which is matured in manhood, 
 which is cherished in old age, which destroys the moral or- 
 der of the universe, infringes the clear mandates of the Gos- 
 pel, and scatters sorrow and misery throughout the world, 
 can be atoned for by the lamentations of a being who never 
 thought of deploring his sins till he had lost all power of en- 
 joying them. He has seen, unmoved, for threescore years, 
 misfortune, evil, and death : he has listened, in vain, to the 
 voice of moralists, and to the precepts of the Gospel ; and, 
 in a moment when the spectre of death starts up before him, 
 he is righteous : What will he be if that spectre vanish 
 again ? What will he be if God gives him back his life ? Is 
 there any certainty that he will use that life for the glory of 
 his maker ? — Is there any certainty that he will not forget 
 God in health again, as he has forgotten him before ? That 
 he will not require the same lassitude, the same anguish, and 
 the same distress, to call him to the care of salvation, which 
 have awakened in him before a momentary feeling of reli- 
 gion ? Such repentance can be nothing worth ; if it is effec- 
 tual to salvation, all other repentance is superfluous to salva- 
 tion. Sin is made co-extensive with life; every motive to 
 righteousness is at an end ; and a little muttering of religion, 
 a few moments before death, is the sum of piety, the defini- 
 tion of virtue, and the passport to Heaven. 
 
 If a death-bed repentance is enough, who would fear God 
 in the days of their youth, and endure the greater burthen 
 when a lesser weight would suffice ? " My hour is not yet 
 come ; I have many years before me in which I may forget 
 my God, and follow the devices of my heart ; — it will suffice 
 if I weep, and fast, and pray, in the days when I am well- 
 stricken in years ; — let those praise God who are drawing 
 near unto him ; I will be h^ppy and sensual while I am young ; 
 and reserve the gloon^ of religion for sickness and old age." 
 Such is the state of principles lyhich the doctrine of a death- 
 bed repentance naturally produces ; it is a doctrine founded 
 upon convenience, not upon truth ; it makes the duty of re? 
 pentance more easy ; but it makes it utterly useless ; — it is 
 calculated to reconcile every one to the precepts qf the Gqs- 
 
ON REPENTANCE. 19 
 
 pel ; and to frustrate every purpose for which the Gospel was 
 given to mankind. 
 
 This subject of repentance is of such importance, and such 
 extent, that I must reserve what more I have to say upon it 
 to another time ; and I shall be satisfied, at present, with the 
 endeavour I have made, to impress upon this congregation 
 the necessity that repentance should be sincere, early, and 
 just; that the resolution which gives it birth, should be strong 
 enough to prevent relapse ; that it should be soon enough to 
 make the sacrifice to the religion of Christ real and valuable ; 
 and that it should inspire that spirit of restitution, or compen- 
 sation, which is the best evidence to prove that our repent- 
 ance is sincere, and the best means to ascertain that it is use- 
 ful. It was to teach these truths that the warning voice was 
 first heard in the wilderness ; it was to rouse, and it was to 
 save, that the Baptist spoke in the solemn stillness of the 
 forest, and said, — That the time was short, — that the day 
 was coming, — that the fan would soon drive the chaff on the 
 floor, — that one was near at hand, the hem of whose gar- 
 ment he dare not touch, nor loose the latchet of his shoe. 
 My brethren, the time is still short, — the day is still coming, 
 — the fan is still ready for the chafl^,^and he is not far off, 
 whose garment the prophet dare not touch, nor loose the 
 latchet of his shoe. — Remember, then, the frailty of human 
 life, — remember the bitterness of death, — listen to the warn- 
 ing voice, — begin, continue, repent, for the Kingdom of Hea- 
 ven is at hand. 
 
'i,.^i^^;K9 
 
 'w- 
 
 SEEM ON II. 
 
 ON REPENTANCE. 
 PART II. ' 
 
 In those days came John the Baptist, preaching in the wilderness of Judea, 
 and saying, repent ye, for the kingdom of Heaven is at hand. — ^Matthew 
 
 III. VERSE 1. 
 
 In my last discourse upon this subject, I endeavoured to 
 show that a spirit of justice and sincerity, proved by absti- 
 nence from the sin, was necessary to repentance ; and that 
 repentance, to be efficacious to salvation, should be begun at 
 an early period. 
 
 After this endeavour to show what is meant by a Christian 
 repentance, I shall proceed to state those causes from which 
 repentance commonly originates, and those means by which 
 it may be fertilized into Christian righteousness. The use 
 of this will be, that, by impressing on our minds those cir- 
 cumstances from which amendment usually proceeds, we 
 shall labour to produce them, if they are events within our 
 own power, and cherish them as the choicest gifts of God, if 
 they are not. 
 
 Repentance in after-life, most commonly, will be found to 
 proceed from a good, moral, and religious education, in youth. 
 When once the rules of the Gospel are inculcated in child- 
 hood, and its beautiful morality firmly fixed in the mind, we 
 are not to consider them as lost, because they are not always 
 practised in the season of levity and passion ; — they are best 
 seen in their revival, after a long suspense, when they scare 
 the voluptuary from his revels, when they make the thought- 
 less think, and the bold tremble, and the godless pray ; when 
 the seed, which seemed dead, shoots forth into an harvest ; 
 
ON REPENTANCE. 21 
 
 when the dry wood becomes green with life, and glorious 
 with increase. 
 
 Providence has provided a source of repentance, in those 
 events which warn us of the vanity of the world, and admo- 
 nish us to prepare for that kingdom which is near at hand : 
 — to watch over the gradual waste of life ; to minister to the 
 last sickness ; to mourn over friends that perish, and children 
 that are snatched away ; — these things teach us all to repent ; 
 they are lessons to which every ear is open, and by which 
 all hearts are impressed. We remember how probable it is 
 that every succeeding year will be marked by some fresh 
 loss; — that parent, and husband, and child, and friend, may 
 all perish away, and leave us a wreck of time in the feeble 
 solitude of age. Then it is that the views we take of human 
 life are serious and solemn; then we feel that godliness is 
 the one thing stable, and unshaken by time and chance ; then 
 we listen to the warning voice, which cries, — Repent ye^for 
 the kingdom of Heaven is at hand. 
 
 In truth, the warnings to repentance are not few ; such are 
 the adverse blows of fortune, — sudden poverty, disappointed 
 ambition, any circumstance which, by weakening our de- 
 pendence upon outward objects, and by driving us to seek 
 for comfort and support from our inward feelings, teaches us 
 to derive our happiness from its pure and legitimate source. 
 
 The feelings of bodily decay often lead to repentance; it 
 happens, fortunately for man, that he is not called out of the 
 world in the vigour of health, not by a sudden annihilation, 
 but by a gradual destruction of his being; every blunted 
 sense, and every injured organ, admonish him that it is 
 drawing near ; and, when it does come, death has only the 
 shadow of a man to subdue. Listen, then, to these warnings 
 of a merciful God ;— when the ear is slow to receive sounds, 
 ■ — when the eye has lessened its range, — when the nerve 
 trembles, — when the red blood of youth and strength is gone, 
 — when the proud body of man is bent down, — listen to these 
 warnings of a merciful God ; sanctify the frail and departing 
 flesh. Repent ye, for the kingdom of Heaven is indeed at 
 hand. 
 
 Providence has provided a source of repentance in those 
 great events which astonish the world, and some share of 
 good springs up from the very midst of devastation. — When 
 the judgments of God are out upon the earth — when a pesti- 
 lence rages — when a conqueror exterminates, — the thoughts 
 
33 ON REPENTANCE. 
 
 of men become solemn, and every countenance gathers its 
 portion of sorrow ; — then, no inan doubts of the shortness of 
 life, when he beholds death making his meal, not of one, or 
 two, but of thousands, and tens of thousands; — then, no man 
 is unmindful of human weakness, when he sees how the 
 fairest creations are broken into dust ;— then, all feel the vanity 
 of human wishes, and human designs, when they behold the 
 arts, the arms, the industry of nations, overwhelmed by an 
 omnipotent destroyer, and their heritage tost to the children 
 of blood. 
 
 Such are the times and seasons in which we now hve, 
 when every year involves some ancient empire in destruction, 
 and the evils of unprincipled ambition are let loose upon 
 mankind. That the terror to which such times give birth 
 may be dissipated, we must all sincerely pray; that the long 
 and dark shadow, which they cast upon every man's heart, 
 may be illumined, we must all implore of Almighty God ; 
 but I wish that awful feeling of human weakness, which 
 these times inspire, may ever prevail; I wish that right senti- 
 ment of absolute dependence upon Almighty Providence may 
 be as visible in our future happiness as it is in our present 
 peril ; I wish, when all the passions unfavourable to human 
 happiness have subsided, that the only one these times have 
 produced, which has any tendency to place human happiness 
 upon its proper basis, may be more exquisitely felt, more 
 widely diffused, and more profoundly revered. 
 
 Having stated the causes from which repentance commonly 
 originates, I am next to show by what means and by what 
 motives repentance may be best fixed into a habit, so that 
 it does not vanish away and become ineffectual, after it has 
 once begun to operate. 
 
 The first, and greatest mode of repenting, is by resolving to 
 — ^-be free, by a revolt against the tyranny of sin, and a struggle 
 for the freedom of righteousness. This is a love of freedom, 
 which produces no excess, and acknowledges no hmits which 
 is at work to destroy the anarchy of passion, and restore the 
 lawful empire of religion ;— not that foolish love of freedom 
 which attempts to get rid of all restriction, but that useful 
 love of freedom, which is conscious that men must be re- 
 strained, and busies itself only in providing, that the restraints 
 * to which they are subjected shall be the wisest and the best. 
 
 But, it may be asked, is there really tyranny in sin ? and 
 
ON REPENTANCE. 23 
 
 does repentance make a man free ? or are these the mere 
 habitual phrases of ministers of the Gospel? There is tyranny 
 in sin ; there is more than Egyptian bondage ; it is bondage 
 to hate an appetite, and to serve it ; to make one law for your 
 heart which you cannot follow ; and to follow another which 
 you cannot love ; — it is a very great tyranny to find all your 
 noble resolutions frustrated by one base sensuality ; to see the 
 honour and peace, and piety, within your reach, snatched 
 from you by one degrading passion ; to know that you are 
 cheated out of happiness, and out of salvation ; not by a 
 pleasure, for that would be something, but by an habit, by 
 that which at last yields no other pleasure in the doing, than 
 the absence of that misery which would proceed from not 
 doing it : in fine, in all wretchedness, and under the rod of 
 any oppressor, if a man despise not himself, joy has not left 
 that man, neither is happiness turned away from his paths ; 
 but the eternal frailty of sin at length degrades a man in his 
 own eyes, makes him cast away his soul in despair, and 
 become ostentatious in vice, because, in the pursuit of virtue, 
 he is contemptible and mean. 
 
 The delight which success imparts in this sort of conflict 
 is no mean motive to begin : most fervently, and sincerely, 
 do I express my real thoughts, when I say that wealth, 
 power, fame, and all the vulgar objects of human ambition, / 
 have not a single pleasure comparable to that which results 
 from victory over sin : they do not only fall far short of it in 
 degree, but they have nothing like it in kind ; — we might as 
 well liken the melody of the harp to the sounds which are 
 sung out before the throne of God, or measure the proudest 
 fabric upon earth against the eternal arch of the heavens. 
 
 When vice has become so intrenched in habit, and the 
 mind so feeble, that every germ of repentance is stifled as 
 soon as it appears, then we must gradually repent. The 
 mind will not yield totally to first efforts, but it will yield a 
 little ; and every time we return, with stronger force, to a 
 weaker resistance ; for the same law of habit which makes 
 the sin so powerful, confirms the virtue which resists it. 
 The gradual attempt at repentance does not flatter us by a 
 sudden act of power, or spare our patience by its rapid 
 progress : often we are hurried on by the inveteracy of habit, 
 and driven down by the vehemence of passion ; but let us 
 keep on, and continue ; if only a year of hfe remains, let 
 that be a year of repentance ; remember, that the reward for 
 
SJ# ON REPENTANCE. 
 
 which we labour is the salvation of our souls ; and, that if 
 any motive can stimulate human industry, or animate human 
 exertion, an hope, above all this world can promise, should 
 lead to efforts above all this world can produce. 
 
 But it often happens, that the penitence, began at a mo- 
 ment of sickness, or despondence, or seriousness, vanishes with 
 its cause, as the fearful dreams of the night are dispelled by 
 the morning's, hght. In this fatal resumption of self-con- 
 fidence, we should remember, that the horror of our vices, 
 which we experienced in the moment of peril, will probably 
 return at the greatest of all perils; that the reasonings against 
 oiir sins, which have before appeared so irresistible, and con- 
 clusive, will resume their power, when they cannot re-produce 
 the effects of repentance ; that it is childish to say, there is a 
 God in the storm, and to become an Atheist again when the 
 winds and the waves are still; to blaspheme in health, and 
 bless in sickness ; to enter upon the first stage of repentance, 
 at every event more serious than common, and to relapse 
 into our ancient sins the moment we resume our original 
 feelings. 
 
 Though the instability of repentance does sometimes pro- 
 ceed from the errors of the understanding, it is most com- 
 monly to be attributed to the inability to execute what the 
 understanding determines to be right ; there is a state of 
 mind, (a very common one,) in which an human being, per- 
 fectly aware he is doing wrong, and destroying his own 
 happiness, cannot refrain from the impulse of present grati- 
 fication. Such a strange preference of evil has led some to 
 suppose, that the imagination always miscolours the facts in 
 these cases, and that, at the moment of election, from some 
 specious misrepresentation, the best of two actions is made to 
 appear the worst, and the worst the best. On the contrary, 
 it is quite manifest, when gratifications are immediate, and 
 penalties remote, that men do deliberately pursue that line of 
 conduct which they have no doubt will produce to them a 
 much greater portion of misery than good. I do not only 
 mean misery in a w^orld to come, but misery in this ; and to 
 such an extreme is irresolution carried, that men will fre- 
 quently do that for which they are absolutely certain they 
 must atone, by tenfold wretchedness, within the short period 
 of a day, or an hour ; — such is the power of immediate 
 enjoyment over the minds of men. 
 
 The great mean of making repentance efiicacious, is by 
 
ON REPENTANCE. 25 
 
 holding no parley with temptation ; to hesitate is to consent ; 
 to listen is to be convinced ; to pause is to yield. — The soul 
 of a penitent man should be as firm against future relapse 
 as it is sorrowful for past iniquity : the only chance for doing 
 well, is to be stubborn in new righteousness ; to hear nothing 
 but on one side, and to be indebted for safety to prudence 
 rather than to impartiality ; above all things, to tremble for 
 youthful virtue ; not to trust ourselves till we have walked 
 long with God, — till the full measure of his grace is upon us, 
 —till long abstinence has taught us to forbear, — till we have 
 gained such wide, and such true knowledge of pleasure, that 
 we comprehend salvation and eternity, in the circle of your 
 joys. 
 
 When we ponder over the Scriptures, there is one very 
 delightful promise which they hold out ; not only that repent- 
 ance, producing a real alteration of life, will be accepted of 
 God as an atonement for sin ; but so much does that accept- 
 ance and forgiveness make a part, and an essential part of 
 the great scheme of redemption, that we are told, there will 
 be joy in heaven over a repentant sinner ; that the vanquish- 
 ing of evil penetrates into other worlds, reaches to higher 
 systems, diffuses joy over greater beings, and purer natures, 
 whom we should have supposed to be occupied with their 
 own proper and essential happiness ; therefore, no man 
 should say, my life has been too bad, — I have gone too far, 
 — I have trespassed too much,— I may as well go on to the 
 end, — I have no chance of being saved. — It is better far 
 that such a man should make a last effort for his soul, that 
 he should come forth, and lay his sin upon the altar, and 
 call earnestly to God with a contrite and a wounded heart. 
 -—Ninety and nine just persons cannot move Heaven as much 
 as the true sorrows of sin ; all things are better than the 
 abandonment of hope in Providence, and the daring, wicked, 
 impenitent violation of the laws of God. 
 
 I will now, then, shortly recapitulate all that I have said, 
 in my two discoui^es, upon the subject of repentance. I 
 have said, that repentance must be sincere ; — that to be 
 sincere, it must conduce to righteousness, and must include 
 restitution, or compensation ; that its efficacy is in proportion 
 to the early period at which it is begun, — and that it has no 
 efficacy at all, if it is deferred till the moment of death : — 
 The causes of repentance, I have stated to be a good, reli- 
 giou^ducation ; sickness, old age, and aU great physical 
 
26 ON REPENTANCE, 
 
 evils, public or private repentance, when once excited by 
 these causes, should be rendered permanent by the recollec- 
 tion of those feelings which first gave it birth, by dividing 
 the difficulty, so as to accommodate it to our weak state of 
 resolution, or by overwhelming it, at once, by one great 
 eflbrt. If these things have in them any shadow of truth,-— 
 if they are founded upon the spirit of the Gospel, then repent 
 ye ; sin no more ; leave the pledge upon the altar ; give back 
 the thirty pieces of silver, the wages of Satan ; and, remem- 
 ber your Creator while life yet remains ; — wait not till 
 palsy and fever teach you to repent ; wait not till pain and 
 anguish teach you the power of God ; — learn, rather, that 
 power from the blessings you enjoy, and while you do enjoy 
 them, repent ye, — for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand. 
 
 ^mm$0 
 
SEEMON III. 
 
 ON TRUTH. 
 
 A.nanias, hearing these things, fell down, and gave up the Ghost. — Acts v. 
 
 VERSE 5. 
 
 Of all the miracles employed for the propagation of the 
 Gospel, this is the most terrible. — In most of the other 
 miracles, the object is merciful, while the means are super- 
 natural ; the laws of nature are suspended to cleanse the 
 leper, to illumine the bUnd, and even to raise the dead from 
 their graves. — The object here, is to punish, to smite with 
 sudden death : — Ananias and Sapphira are guilty of a lie, 
 and, in an instant, in the full tide of life, they fall down dead 
 at the feet of the apostle. 
 
 As the age of miracles is no more, and the necessity for 
 their occurrence removed by the diffusion and security of 
 the Gospel, we are no longer exposed to the same punishment 
 for the same violation of truth, but that punishment stands on 
 the book as a tremendous record of the magnitude of the sin. 
 It gives us a full view of that wrath with which it will here- 
 after be pursued ; and teaches us how fatally it moves the 
 displeasure of God. I shall avail myself, then, of this awful 
 history, to examine the nature of truth, its importance as a 
 part of Christian righteousness, and to investigate how the 
 habit of speaking truth is impaired, perverted, destroyed, 
 instituted, and confirmed. 
 
 Upon truth rests all human knowledge : to truth man is 
 indebted for the hourly preservation of his life, and for a 
 perpetual guide to his actions ; without truth the affairs of the 
 world could no longer exist, as they now are, than they could 
 if any of the great physical laws of the universe were sus- 
 pended. As truth is of indispensable necessity in the great 
 
ON TRUTH. 
 
 concerns of the world, it is also of immense importance as it 
 relates to the common and daily intercourse of life. False- 
 hood must hav^e a direct and powerful tendency to disturb the 
 order of human affairs, and to introduce into the bosom of 
 society every gradation and variety of mischief. 
 
 There is a natural tendency in all men to speak the truth, 
 because it is absolutely necessary we should inform ourselves 
 of the truth for the common purposes of existence, and we do 
 not say one thing while we know another, but for the inter- 
 vention of causes which are comparatively infrequent and 
 extraordinary; the first of these which I shall mention is 
 vanity. The vanity of being interesting, of exciting curi- 
 osity, and escaping from the pain of obscurity : — Great part 
 of the mischief done to character, and of those calumnies, 
 which ruffle the quiet of life, have their origin in this source. 
 —Nor is the falsehood which proceeds from it to be consi- 
 sidered as of little importance ; it is incompatible with that 
 earnest and permanent regard to human happiness which 
 the Gospel exacts ; it is inimical to that daily exercise of 
 keeping the conscience void of offence towards God, and 
 towards man, which it prescribes: A Christian should never 
 forget that in the progress of refinement, as much is felt for 
 character as for the more gross and substantive advantages 
 of life ; in the beginning, we have only property in food and 
 raiment; but as the world goes on, there springs up the in- 
 visible, intangible property of fame, which nourishes a man's 
 life, though he be hungered, and cold, and without which he 
 is dead in the midst of life ; if respect to this is not foreign 
 to human happiness, it is not foreign to the Gospel : I am 
 sure it is as much the duty of a pious Christian to abhor 
 falsehood, injurious to the feelings of his fellow-creatures, as 
 it is to abhor falsehood which may disturb them in the just 
 right of their possession ; and at every moment, and in every 
 relation of life, it must be his duty to respect truth as the 
 ancient and solemn barrier of human^happiness. — Not that 
 what is said on such occasions is mere falsehood; but the 
 mischief is done by embellishment, by colouring, by false 
 insinuation, by slight change, and by artful suppression : 
 broad, shameless falsehood is seldom witnessed in the world; 
 and the greatest violator of truth preserves enough of it for 
 outward decency and inward tranquillity : for, though Satan 
 corrupted man, God made him, and he loves Heaven in the 
 midst of his iniquity ; he is ever ready to throw over his sins 
 
ON TRUTH. 5J0 
 
 the robe of virtue, to comfort his soul with soothing words 
 and decent pretences, and to say a grace to God, before he 
 sets down to feast with Mammon. 
 
 There is a liar, who is not so much a liar from vanity as 
 from warmth of imagination, and levity of understanding ; 
 such a man has so thoroughly accustomed his mind to extra- 
 ordinary combinations of circumstances, that he is disgusted 
 with the insipidity of any probable event ; the power of 
 changing the whole course of nature is too fascinating for 
 resistance ; every moment must produce rare emotions, and 
 stimulate high passions ; life must be a series of zests, and 
 relishes, and provocations, and languishing existence be re- 
 freshed by daily miracles : In the meantime, the dignity of 
 man passes away, the bloom of Heaven is effaced, friends 
 vanish from this degraded liar ; he can no longer raise the 
 look of wonder, but is heard in deep, dismal, contemptuous 
 silence ; he is shrunk from and abhorred, and lives to witness 
 a gradual conspiracy against him of all that is good and 
 honourable, and wise and great. 
 
 Fancy and vanity are not the only parents of falsehood ; — 
 the worst, and the blackest species of it, has its origin in 
 fraud; — and, for its object, to obtain some advantage in the 
 common intercourse of life. — Though this kind of falsehood 
 is the most pernicious, in its consequences, to the religious 
 character of him who is infected by it ; and the most detri- 
 mental to the general happiness of society, it requires, (from 
 the universal detestation in which it is held,) less notice in 
 an investigation of the nature of truth, intended for practical 
 purposes. — He whom the dread of universal infamy, — the 
 horror of being degraded from his rank in society, — the 
 thought of an hereafter will not inspire with the love of truth, 
 who prefers any temporary convenience of a lie, to a broad, 
 safe, and refulgent veracity, that man is too far sunk in the 
 depths of depravity for any rehgious instruction he can re- 
 ceive in this place ; — the canker of disease is gone down to 
 the fountains of his blood, and the days of his life are told. 
 
 Truth is sacrificed to a greater variety of causes than the 
 narrow limits of a discourse from the pulpit will allow me to 
 state : — it is sacrificed to boasting, to malice, and to all the 
 varieties of hatred ;'^it is sacrificed, also, to that verbal bene- 
 volence which delights in the pleasure of promising, as much 
 as it shrinks from the pain of performing, which abounds in 
 
 3* -^C^;'- 
 
W^ ON TRUTH. 
 
 gratuitous sympathy, and has words, and words only, for 
 every human misfortune. 
 
 I have hitherto considered the love of truth on the negative 
 side only, as it indicates what we are not to do;— the vices 
 from which we are to abstain ; — ^but there is an heroic faith, — 
 a courageous love of truth, the truth of the Christian warrior, — 
 an unconquerable love of justice, that would burst the heart 
 in twain, if it had not vent, which makes women men, — and 
 men saints, — and saints angels. — Often it has published its 
 creed from amid the'flames ; — often it has reasoned under the 
 axe, and gathered firmness from a mangled body ; — often it 
 has rebuked the madness of the people ; — often it has burst 
 into the chambers of princes, to tear down the veil of false- 
 hood, and to speak of guilt, of sorrow, and of death. — Such 
 was the truth which went down with Shadrach to the fiery 
 furnace, and descended with Daniel to the lion's den. — Such 
 was the truth which made the potent Felix tremble at his 
 eloquent captive. — Such was the truth which roused the timid 
 Peter to preach Christ crucified before the Sanhedrin of the 
 Jews ; — and such was the truth which enabled that Christ, 
 whom he did preach, to die the death upon the cross. 
 
 Having thus stated the most ordinary causes of falsehood, 
 I shall endeavour to lay before you the means and the mo- 
 tives for its cultivation. The foundation of the love of truth 
 must be laid, in early education, by unswerving example, 
 and by connecting with truth, every notion of the respect of 
 men, and of the approbation of God; and by combining with 
 the idea of falsehood, the dread of infamy and impiety ; — nor 
 must the young be allowed to hesitate about the importance 
 of the particular truth in question, but be taught, rather, that 
 all truth must be important ; they must never balance, for an 
 instant, between the convenience of falsehood, and the peril 
 of veracity ; — but if the alternative be death, or falsehood, let 
 them look upon death as inevitable, as if God had struck them 
 dead with his lightning. 
 
 A thorough conviction of the security derived from truth, 
 is no mean incitement to its cultivation. Falsehood subjects 
 us to a perpetual vigilance ; we must constantly struggle to 
 reconcile a supposed fact to the current of real events, and to 
 point out the consequences of an ideal cause ; the first false- 
 hood must be propped up by a second, the second cemented 
 by a third, till some failure, in the long chain of fictions, pre- 
 cipitates into the gulf of infamy him whom it is intended 
 
ON TRUTH. 31 
 
 to support ; — then there is the perpetual suspicion of being 
 suspected ; we elaborate meaning from idle words, and signi- 
 ficance from thoughtless gestures. Watchfulness, silence 
 and melancholy succeed to the gayety of a true heart, and all 
 virtue is gone out of life. This is the bondage of falsehood, 
 and these the massive chains of sin, which, if any man pre- 
 fer to the liberty of truth, and the Gospel, to the sweet sleeps 
 of virtue, to her free step, to her pleasant thoughts, to her 
 delicious promise of immortal life, he knows not the highest 
 joys of this world, nor merits those of a better world than this. 
 
 We shall love truth better if we believe that falsehood is 
 useless ; and we shall believe falsehood to be useless if we 
 entertain the notion that it is difficult to deceive ; — the fact is, 
 (and there can be no greater security for well doing than 
 such an opinion,) that it is almost impossible to deceive the 
 great variety of talent, information, and opinion, of which the 
 world is composed. Truth prevails, by the universal com- 
 bination of all things animate, or inanimate, against falsehood ; 
 for ignorance makes a gross and clumsy fiction ; carelessness 
 omits some feature of a fiction that is ingenious ; bad fellowship 
 in fraud betrays the secret ; conscience bursts it into atoms ; 
 the subtlety of angry revenge unravels it ; mere brute, uncon- 
 spiring matter reveals it; death lets in the light of truth ; all 
 things teach a wise man the difficulty and bad success of 
 falsehood ; and truth is inculcated by human policy, as well 
 as by divine command. 
 
 The highest motive to the cultivation of truth, is, that God 
 requires it of us ; — he requires it of us, because falsehood is^ 
 contrary to his nature, — because the spirit of man, before it 
 can do homage to its Creator, must be purified in the fur- 
 nace of truth. There is no more noble trial for him, who 
 seeks the kingdom of heaven than to speak the truth ; — 
 often the truth brings upon him much sorrow ; often it 
 threatens him with poverty, with banishment, with hatred, 
 with loss of friends, with miserable old age ; but, as one friend 
 loveth another friend the more if they have suffered together 
 in a long sorrow, so the soul of a just man, for all he endures, 
 clings nearer to the truth ; — he mocks the fury of the people, 
 and laughs at the oppressor's rod ; and if needs be, he sitteth 
 down like Job in the ashes, and God makes his morsel of 
 bread sweeter than the feasts of the liar, and all the banquets 
 of sin. 
 
 To carry ourselves humbly and meekly in the world, is 9, 
 
32 ON TRUTH. 
 
 sure sign of a sound understanding, and an evangelical mind ; 
 —but we have duties to perform to ourselves, as well as to 
 others ; and there is no one to whom we can owe as much 
 deference as we owe to inward purity, and religious feeling. 
 The submission paid to any human being, by the sacrifice of 
 truth, is not meekness, nor humility, but an abject, unresisting 
 mind, that barters God and heaven for a moment of present 
 ease ; and puts to sale man's best birthright of speaking 
 truth ; — and the excellence of this virtue of truth consists in 
 this, that it almost necessarily implies so many other virtues, 
 or so certainly leads to them ; for he who loves truth, must 
 be firm in meeting those dangers to which truth sometimes 
 exposes him ; if he loves truth, he w^ill love justice ; he will 
 gain the habit of appealing to the precepts of conscience, and 
 of stating the real conceptions of his own mind, with that 
 disregard to good and evil consequence which those only can 
 feel who look on sin as the highest evil, and obedience to God 
 as the greatest good. 
 
 Lastly, remember that other sins can be measured, and the 
 degree of evil, which originates from them, be accurately 
 known ; — but no man, when he violates truth, can tell of 
 what sin he is guilty ; where his falsehood will penetrate ; 
 and what misery it will create. It may calumniate, it may 
 kill, it may embitter, it may impoverish, what evil it may 
 prove you cannot tell ; all that you do know is, that it is a 
 crime which injures man, and offends God ; therefore, for 
 every reason for which God has chained man up in his par- 
 ticular tendencies to individual sins, for all those reasons he 
 has sanctified, and ordained truth ; because, by truth every 
 other virtue is upheld ; and upon truth as the deep rock, 
 stand all the glories and excellencies of the human mind. 
 Shake that basis, and with it fall justice to man and piety to 
 God ; the frame of social order is broken up, and those talents, 
 and passions are used for mutual destruction, upon which 
 Providence intended that the dignity and sublunary dominion 
 of man should for ever rest. 
 
mm-m '^^ 
 
 SERMON IV. 
 
 ON THE EDUCATION OF THE POOR, 
 
 Wisdom and knowledge shall be the stability of thy times. — Isaiah xxxiii. 
 
 VERSE 6. 
 
 We seem to have here something like a prophetic sanction 
 for the propagation of knowledge : Isaiah, in speaking of the 
 future prosperity of the Jewish empire, rests the stability of 
 its fortunes, not upon wealth, nor extensive dominion, but 
 directly upon knowledge. Wisdom, and knowledge, shall be 
 the stability of the times ; — as if he had said, you must be 
 brave to be free ; — you must be active to be rich ; you must 
 be rich to be powerful ; but to be stable, to endure, you must 
 be taught. Gain all other good which you can, but do not 
 expect to retain them without knowledge : — build upon that 
 rock, or though you build splendidly, you build in vain. 
 
 As it has fallen to my lot to address you upon the present 
 occasion, I know not what better, or more appropriate to the 
 present occasion* I can do, than to discuss this sentiment of 
 the prophet ; and to examine into the eifects which knowledge 
 produces upon the welfare of mankind ; I do not mean know- 
 ledge in general, but that species, and degree of it, Avhich is 
 produced by the education of the poor ; — by such investiga- 
 tion, the young people, who are assembled here to-day, will 
 better perceive the nature and scope of those advantages 
 they have received ; their charitable guardians will be more 
 confirmed in the utility and importance of their good works; 
 and those who object altogether to the education of the poor, 
 may, perhaps, in the progress of such investigation, be in- 
 duced to re-consider the validity of those objections upon 
 
 * The anniversary at the Foundling Hospital. -^ C^^-W'^ 
 
--! 
 
 -r 
 
 9^ ON THE EDUCATION OF THE POOR. 
 
 which their opposition is founded. I rather prefer this 
 course, than to make general observations on human misery ; 
 because, by satisfying the understanding that the thing is 
 right, it becomes more probable that we shall excite some- 
 thing much better than temporary feeling ; — ^benevolence, 
 founded upon reasonable conviction, and leading to judicious 
 exertion. 
 
 The most common objection to the education of the lower 
 orders of the community is, — That the poor proud of the 
 distinction of learning, will not submit to the performance of 
 those lower offices of life which are necessary to the well- 
 being of a state : this objection, indeed, I only mention, that 
 I may not be thought to have passed over any objection, for 
 nothing can be more mistaken than to suppose that the labo- 
 rious classes of the community are laborious from choice, or 
 from any other principle than that of imperious necessity ;— 
 a necessity with which education has no more to do than with 
 the motion of the planets, and the flow of the tides ; — every 
 person secures to himself as good a situation in society as he 
 can ; and it is essentially necessary to the happiness of the 
 world that he should do so. — Those whose lot and heritage fall 
 among the lowest fulfil the duties entailed upon them, and ever 
 must fulfil those duties, from the dread of want for themselves, 
 and for others dearer to them than themselves. Our poorer 
 brethren do not toil because they are ignorant ; neither would 
 they cease to toil because they were instructed ; the fabric 
 of human happiness God has placed upon much stronger 
 foundations ; they labour, because they cannot live without 
 labour ; — this has ever been sufficient to stimulate, and to 
 continue the energy of man, and will, and must ever stimu- 
 late it, and secure its continuance, while heaven and earth 
 remain. 
 
 The next objection, urged against the education of the poor, 
 is, that the most ignorant poor, in country villages, are the 
 best ; and that the poor, of large towns, as they gain in in- 
 telligence, lose in character, and become corrupt, as they 
 become knowing ; but the country poor, it should be remem- 
 bered, are the fewest in number ; they are not exposed to all 
 those innumerable temptations which corrupt the populace 
 of large towns ; this, and not their ignorance, is the cause of 
 their superior decency in morals and religion ; it is uncandid 
 to oppose the poor of a confined village to the poor of a 
 wealthy and a boundless metropolis ; but taking subjects of 
 
ON THE EDUCATION OF THE POOR. S^ 
 
 comparison from the same spot, and under the same circum- 
 stances, do we find that the ignorant of that place are better 
 than the instructed of that place ? — Does any man's experi- 
 ence enable him to assert, practically, that there is a connec- 
 tion between uncultivated minds and righteous actions ? If 
 we want to make a human being do that which is just, is it 
 necessary to make him think that which is sordid ? If we 
 wish him to lift up his soul, in pious adoration, to his Saviour 
 and his God, is it necessary to brutahze that soul which his 
 God has given, and his Saviour redeemed ? Is there, can 
 there be any human being who wishes that these children, 
 who come here to return their thanks for the Providence that 
 has watched over them, had been forsaken, passed over ; 
 left to the influence of such principles as those by which the 
 minds of the deserted poor are impressed ? — No reasonable 
 doubt can be raised; it cannot, with any colour of justice, 
 be contended : every effect of their education which we wit- 
 ness, is a solid gain to society; if temperance can be so 
 called ; if truth ; if honesty ; if a solemn, and deep adora- 
 tion of the name, and of the laws of our Saviour Jesus Christ, 
 are worthy of that appellation. 
 
 In considering the effects of educating the poor, we must 
 not merely dwell upon the power, but upon the tendency 
 which we have created to use that power aright ; not merely 
 ask if it is a good thing for the poor to read, but to read such 
 books as are full of wise and useful advice. — A mere instru- 
 ment for acquiring knowledge may be used with equal suc- 
 cess either for a good or a bad purpose ; but education never 
 gives the instrument without teaching the proper method of 
 using it, and without inspiring a strong desire to use it in 
 that manner ; it raises up powerful associations in favour of 
 righteousness ; it gives a permanence of opinion, not to be 
 blown about by every idle breath of doctrine, and some deep 
 life-marks, by which a human being may recover himself, 
 if ever he does wander. To teach a child how he may 
 acquire knowledge, is neither a good nor an evil ; — but to 
 fix in his mind, at the same time, a strong bias for the acqui- 
 sition of that knowledge which makes him a better subject, 
 a better servant, and a better Christian, is the inestimable 
 object sought for, and gained by the education of the poor.-— 
 It is in vain to say we did well without educating our poor ; 
 — we should never be content with doing well, where there 
 is a rational prospect of doing better. — Besides, what is doing 
 
36 ON THE EDUCATION OF THE POOR. 
 
 well ? — We do not do well while many of the poor are led 
 to ignominious death for want of education ; we do not do 
 well while little children are left to perish ; — we do not do well 
 while thousands of unhappy females are perishing in the 
 streets, the victims of artifice acting against deplorable igno- 
 rance; — we do not do well while those whose bodies are 
 nourished, are left ignorant of the name of Christ, and of the 
 sacred duties which his Gospel enjoins ; — it is to do better 
 than this, that this noble charity was reared ; and that the 
 great work of educating the poor is going on throughout this 
 enlightened kingdom, under the protection of God, and by 
 the labours of good and pious men. 
 
 Education may easily be made to supply, hereafter, the 
 most innocent source of amusement, and to lessen those vices 
 which proceed from want of interesting occupation ; — it sub- 
 dues ferocity, by raising up an admiration for something besides 
 brutal strength and brutal courage. — If we were told of a 
 poor man's family in the country, that, after the completion 
 of their labours, they amused themselves with reading, could 
 any human being go there, after being acquainted with 
 such a fact, and expect to find more blasphemy, more drunk- 
 enness, more indecency, and more ferocity, than among 
 ignorant, iUiterate people ? The fact is so much the reverse, 
 that it is impossible to know that a human creature can derive 
 pleasure from books, without feeling towards him an increased 
 security and respect. It is some sort of proof that such a 
 man is not a barbarous man ; that he does not thirst for blood; 
 that he has heard there is a God ; that he has given away 
 bread to the wretched ; that he has an house, an altar, and a 
 king. 
 
 We must remember, in this question, that all experience is 
 in our favour, that the experiment of educating the poor 
 in the Gospel, as well as in the lower parts of human learn- 
 ing, has been tried in many countries of Europe, to the 
 greatest extent, and with the greatest success. — We must 
 remember, that the question of educating the poor, is not a 
 question between a virtuous education and no education at 
 all ; but it is a choice between a good education and a bad 
 one; — you cannot repress the inborn activity of these poor 
 children, and render those minds stagnant which are not pro- 
 gressive to a good point ; — you will have weeds to eradicate, 
 if you have not harvests to reap.' — You must incur greater 
 trouble and expense hereafter, in punishing their crimes, 
 
§M-MS^iWW%M 37 
 
 ON 
 
 than you do now in cherishing their virtues, — you must 
 either teach them the word of Christ, and the law of ever- 
 lasting life ; or you must rage against them with gibbets and 
 chains ; and thrust them from the hght of the world into the 
 torments of hell. 
 
 There are many methods in which a community is con- 
 siderably benefited by the education of its poor ; a human 
 being who is educated, is, for many purposes of commerce, 
 a much more useful and convenient instrument ; and the 
 advantage to be derived from the universal diffusion of this 
 power, is not to be overlooked in a discussion of this nature. 
 
 The education of the poor sifts the talents of a country, 
 and discovers the choicest gifts of nature in the depths of 
 solitude, and in the darkness of poverty ; — for Providence 
 often sets the grandest spirits in the lowest places, and gives 
 to many a man a soul far better than his birth, compelling 
 him to dig with a spade, who had better have wielded a 
 sceptre ; education searches everywhere for talents ; sifting 
 among the gravel for the gold, holding up every pebble to 
 the hght, and seeing whether it be the refuse of Nature, or 
 whether the hand of art can give it brilliancy and price : — 
 There are no bounds to the value of this sort of education : I 
 come here to preach upon this occasion ; when fourteen or 
 fifteen youths, who have long participated of your bounty, 
 come to return you their thanks ; how do we know that there 
 may not be, among all these, one who shall enlarge the 
 boundaries of human knowledge ; — who shall increase the 
 power of his country by his enterprise in commerce ; — watch 
 over its safety in the most critical times, by his vigilance as a 
 magistrate ; — and consult its true happiness by his integrity, 
 and his ability as a senator ? On all other things there is 
 a sign, or a mark ; — we know them immediately, or we can 
 find them out ; but man, we do not know ; for one man dif- 
 fereth from another man as Heaven differs from earth ; — 
 and the excellence that is in him, education seeks for with 
 vigilance, and preserves with care.— -We might make a 
 brilliant list of our great English characters, who have been 
 born in cottages ; — may it ever increase : — there can be no 
 surer sign that we are a wise and a happy people. 
 
 I would ask those who place such confidence in the bene- 
 fits of ignorance, how far they would choose to carry these 
 benefits ? for, if the safety of a state depends upon its igno- 
 rance, — then, the more ignorance the more safety ; — and we 
 4 
 
~\ 
 
 38 ON THE EDUCATION OF THE POOR. 
 
 ought to wish the lower orders degraded to the last state of 
 savage stupidity ; and if this were done, we forget that such 
 materials must yield to seduction and artifice, as well as to 
 the mandates of lawful empire ;— but the particular kind of 
 ignorance such reasoners want, is an ignorance tranquil and 
 submissive to its rulers, and full of active intelhgence against 
 those who would mislead it from its duty— an ignorance, 
 which it would, by no means, be desirable to diffiise, if it 
 were possible. 
 
 The situation of the poor, in this country, is, with a very 
 few exceptions, perhaps, as good as human nature will per- 
 mit; upon the number of understandings on which this truth 
 can be impressed, the stability of the times essentially de- 
 pends ; — if, then, we have placed our happiness on the eternal 
 foundations of justice; and if there is a rock beneath our feet, 
 as firm as adamant, and as deep as the roots of the earth, 
 how foolish to rest it upon the crumbling and treacherous 
 soil of ignorance, which every wind can disperse, and every 
 flood can wash away. 
 
 I by no means contend, that the government which com- 
 mands them can have nothing to fear from a people among 
 whom education is widely diffused, because it is idle to say, 
 that a government is ever completely out of all danger from 
 the madness of any people ; but I say there is always less to 
 fear from a people whom you have educated in the Gospel, 
 and to whom you imparted also some degree of human know- 
 ledge, than from any other people.- — ^If such a people ima- 
 gine a vain thing in their heart, they are soon called back to 
 duty ; — their repentance is speedy, and their excesses are 
 light ;— but when a human being rises up against us whom 
 Ave have degraded to the state of a brute, he rises up against 
 us, as that being would to which we have hkened him, — to 
 diffuse slaughter and destruction wherever he bends his steps. 
 
 Nothing brutahzes human faculties more than the extreme 
 division of labour; and this division, invaluable to commerce 
 and industry, is carried to such a height in this country, that 
 it calls imperiously for the corrective of education. We are 
 to remember the counteracting power gained by the increased 
 knowledge of their superiors in rank ; — all other classes have 
 gained the good to be gained by education ; to impart it to 
 this, is not to violate the proportion of the machine, but to 
 maintain it; — to be brief, these are the principles which have 
 always guided the conductors of this charity in the long course 
 
ON THE EDUCATION OF THE POOR. 89 
 
 of care and attention which they have paid to the education 
 of the deserted poor, beginning at the earUest infancy, and 
 ending as you now see it end. — Speaking for them, and think- 
 ing with them, I say, we heUeve, that the labour of the poor 
 is founded upon their wants; — that God has commanded us 
 to breed them up diligently in the Gospel ;— that the know- 
 ledge we are imparting to them, will protect them from that 
 vice which proceeds from idleness; — that it will soften the 
 hard heart, and teach them to respect wisdom more than 
 strength. We are encouraged by all that has been done be- 
 fore, for the propagation of knowledge, and we feel all that 
 confidence which results from experience ; — we are convinced 
 there is less toil in teaching duties than in punishing crimes ; 
 —we think we are bettering all faculties, inspiring vigorous 
 industry, and valuable enterprise, and giving to great under- 
 standings a fair range of action. We think the more employ- 
 ment is simplified, the more the mind of man is degraded, and 
 education rendered necessary, — and we know that in spread- 
 ing the Word of God, and the mercies of Jesus Christ, we are 
 conferring the most exalted blessings on the poor ; — lastly, 
 always, and at all times, we reject ignorance as a dangerous 
 and disgraceful auxiliary, and we say, with the great prophet, 
 on knowledge, and on wisdom, the stability of the times shall 
 rest. 
 
SERMON V. 
 ON THE IMPORTANCE OF PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 And they were continually in the temple praising and blessing God. — Luke 
 XXIV. VERSE 53. 
 
 I DO not purpose to recommend, after the model of apostoli- 
 cal righteousness, a devotion so fervid and so incessant as 
 that mentioned in my text ; because, though in the early dis- 
 ciples of our Saviour it was a natural consequence of the great 
 events to which they were the witnesses, it would, in us, (if 
 such a stretch of all our faculties, and continued elevation of 
 all our ideas, were possible,) be a deviation from that life of 
 action, in which the perfection of Christianity principally con- 
 sists; but it may be fairly urged that, by a constant retrospect 
 to these fathers, and founders of the faith, our devotion will 
 be increased and confirmed : (every allowance made for 
 diversity of character and situation,) if prayer was their con- 
 stant occupation, it should at least be our occasional exercise; 
 if there were no intervals at which they left the temple, there 
 should be some periods at which we approach it ; there can 
 be no circumstances which can make an exercise at all times 
 unnecessary to us, which was at every moment indispensable 
 to them. 
 
 I lay a great stress upon that part of my text which says 
 they prayed in the temple, not heedlessly, and as every one 
 listed, but at a known and consecrated place, and together; 
 because, as I presume the efficacy and importance of prayer 
 to be admitted, I mean now only to contend, that prayer 
 should be offered up eminently and emphatically, on this day 
 and at this place, in the open church and on the Sabbath ; 
 not that other days and other places should be excluded, 
 (God forbid,) but that these should be preferred. 
 
ON THE IMPORTANCE OF PUBLIC WORSHIP. 41 
 
 The most ordinary reason alleged for the abstinence from 
 public worship, is the pressure of worldly business : now, it 
 somehow or another happens, that the time most commonly 
 selected to answer the calls of extraordinary occupation, is 
 that which would otherwise be appropriated to the duties of "^ 
 religion ; if the enjoyments of pleasure and society were first 
 sacrificed, and then the concerns of religion entrenched upon, 
 a very bad plea would be made a very little better ; but the 
 first resource which presents itself to every industrious man 
 is irrehgion, and if this is not sufficient, he then begins to ' 
 think of sacrificing his amusements : to say that the life of 
 any individual is so wholly engrossed by afiairs that he can- 
 not subtract from it the small portion of time allotted to pubhc 
 worship, can hardly be true ; and if true is disgraceful ; — 
 when the will goes along with the understanding, every man 
 finds ample resources in the vigour of his mind ; energy in- 
 creases with difficulty; and the busy, accustomed to a stre- 
 nuous exertion of their powers, have frequently more leisure 
 than those whose inveterate idleness magnifies every trifle 
 into a serious concern. We may safely say, if the purpose 
 was grateful, the time would be found ; but the truth is, that 
 the race is painful, and the goal not pleasant; the means 
 oppress, and the end does not allure ; the labour is great and 
 the reward not inviting ; and forgetful man, who never de- 
 frauds his appetites of a single moment, can find no time for 
 his God. 
 
 This plea of want of time, (bad apology as it is for the 
 neglect of public worship,) is, as I have said before, rarely or 
 ever true ; the most occupied men have, in general, a con- 
 siderable share of society and amusement; if friends are to 
 meet together, if vanity is to be gratified by display ; if inte- 
 rest is to be promoted by the cultivation of the great; if some 
 new gratification is to be offered to the senses ; if curiosity is 
 to be excited ; if imagination is to be roused ; the wings of 
 time are clipped and the hours no longer fly away. The 
 little intervals set apart for joy, the Sabbaths of pleasure, are 
 ever sacred and inviolable from the business of the world ; 
 but when piety asks a moment from these mighty concerns, 
 the merchant hurries to his business, the scholar seizes on his 
 book, and an impious sedulity seems to pervade all ranks and 
 description of men ; — one remembers the yoke of oxen that 
 he has purchased ; another the wife that he has espoused ; 
 
 4* 
 
43t ON THE IMPORTANCE OF PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 then, and then chiefly, we all seem ready to rememher this life 
 at the only period when God has commanded us to forget it. 
 
 But, admitting this irresistible multiplicity of aflliirs, and 
 supposing that the calls which society makes upon the in- 
 dustry and activity of any individual, are as numerous as 
 that individual would wish it to be supposed, it is in every 
 man's power to be a little less rich, a little less powerful, and 
 a little less important ; we are not to sacrifice to the Lord our 
 God that which costs us nothing ; to give him only the casual 
 refuse of our time, after it has first satisfied every worldly 
 demand ; and to offer up the mere relics of existence, suscep- 
 tible of no higher employment, and worthy of no better use. 
 Consider, I beseech you, what these ceremonies of rehgion 
 are, to which every little concern of business, pleasure, and 
 profit is preferred; — they are the incorporated worship of all 
 who believe alike in Christ; the union of all who ask from 
 God what they have not, or thank him for what they have ; 
 they are the solemn expression of the faith of nations, the 
 overt proof that earth is obedient to heaven ; the only public 
 evidence that man is occupied with other things than the 
 brief disquietudes of this perishable globe. 
 
 The Gospel loves not a lukewarm heart ; it is a religion of 
 feeling and ardour ; when it has penetrated into a man's 
 thoughts, as it ought to penetrate, it will produce outward 
 respect, rigid observance, a promptness, and a zeal in wor- 
 ship ; it is better in fact to wash off the stain of baptism, to 
 shake the dust of our feet upon the altar, than to revere that 
 which we desert, and deny, by our lives, the God whom we 
 believe in our hearts. 
 
 There are men who, without pretending to be so occupied 
 on the Sabbath, allege that it is their only day of relaxation 
 from business, and that it is reasonable enough they should 
 consider it in that point of view. — Such an open preference 
 of pleasure to religion, or the fatal notion that they are so com- 
 pletely opposed to each other, proceeds from an apathy upon 
 these sacred subjects which hardly admits of any cure. — If 
 every exercise which disposes the mind to the contemplation 
 of an hereafter is burthensome, it is impossible religion can 
 exist at all under such a system of thinking. If it is a privi- 
 lege to be exempt from the duties of religion, of course no one 
 will resort to the temple of God who has the slightest worldly 
 inducement to avert him from it. — The ministers of the Gospel 
 invite men here, because they consider salvation to be the 
 
ON THE IMPORTANCE OF PUBLIC WORSHIP. 43 
 
 first and greatest care ; they presume, that an occasional re- 
 course to the Christian worship, and the improvement conse- 
 quent upon that worship, will diffuse over the mind a feeling 
 of calmness and content; and, by strengthening the habit of 
 self-command, render pleasure itself more productive, by 
 rendering it compatible with innocence, and with religion. 
 But the style of thinking against which I am contending, in- 
 verts the whole order of human duties, supposing that the 
 first command of the Gospel is to grow rich, or to enjoy the 
 greatest quantity of pleasure which can be procured, and 
 then, if any little residue of leisure remain, that it is to be 
 given to rehgion ; — but, tolerating, for a moment, this fatal, 
 and I must say, this very irrehgious style of thinking, and 
 acting ; and allowing that a religious institution can, with any 
 colour of reason, be objected to, because it does not furnish its 
 immediate tribute of gratification, it is fair to remind such ob- 
 jectors, of those numbers who, in the pursuit of all common 
 trades and professions, tlo submit every day to a much more 
 painful, and more considerable, sacrifice of their time and at- 
 tention. Who rejects the most loathsome disease ? who shrinks 
 from the driest forms of law ? who turns away in disgust from 
 the dullest calculations? — The mammon of unrighteousness 
 can infuse into us all a meekness and a patience which we 
 are so slow to feel in the service of our God. These feelings 
 are not the feelings of a man, who, in his rehgion, exhibits 
 the marks of health and life : — a just and good man, when he 
 quits the church, feels that he has performed a duty which 
 he owes to man, and which he owes to his Creator ; he has 
 set an example to those who are inferior to him in age and 
 situation ; instead of talking about rehgion, he has practically 
 contributed his share of effort to preserve religion in the 
 world; he has done good to himself also ; for a few hours he 
 has put the world out of sight ; he has covered his heart in 
 mourning, and in ashes, and given to himself a chance of 
 living belter ; he has heard those who have told him things, 
 not, perhaps, that he did not know before, but things which 
 would not have occurred to him again if he had not quitted 
 the world, and come here to hear them ; he has been honestly 
 and affectionately warned to remember the shortness of human 
 life, and to repent in Christ before the hand of death is upon 
 him. It is not true, that the duties of rehgion are unpleasant ; 
 many men feel a sohd and rational comfort from having per- 
 formed them ; they encounter business with a greater plea- 
 
44 ON THE IMPORTANCE OF PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 sure ; they enjoy amusement with greater satisfaction ; they 
 discover that they gain by pubh'c worship, the charming feel- 
 ing of duty well performed, and, therefore, they come back 
 here again at the stated interval to resuscitate that feeling, 
 and to quicken with it the days and hours of common life. 
 
 The conclusion that public worship is not essentially ne- 
 cessary to religion, is a conclusion rather of indolence than 
 reason ; a conclusion (as is commonly the case in the logic of 
 convenience), born before the premises ; first admitted to be 
 true, because it is agreeable ; and then proved to be true by 
 the best arguments that can be found : it will, in general, be 
 found, in practice, that those who contend for the possibility 
 of being very religious, without frequenting the service of 
 the church, confine themselves to. the mere possibility, with- 
 out going so far as to convert that possibility into a fact.— - 
 Simple indolence and downright impiety we comprehend, 
 and are not ignorant by what species of argument they are 
 to be attacked ; but when a man, careless about religion, 
 happens to possess a lively imagination, or to affect it, he 
 speaks as if his feehng spirit could not wing its flights, and 
 pour forth its efl^usions in a temple built hymen's hands; 
 and having drawn fine pictures of an elevated mind, pouring 
 forth the eloquence of pious wonder among rocks and clouds 
 he remains quietly at home, with no mean sense of his own 
 refinement, and with no ordinary contempt for our narrow 
 conformity. — The truth is, if the ordinary season for hearing 
 of temperance, and righteousness, and judgment to come, 
 displeases, the convenient season will never come ; if this 
 place is bad, all places are bad; if this hour is irksome, 
 every hour is irksome; we merely ascribe our objections to 
 time and place, and manner, which have their deeper origin 
 in the melancholy encroachment of present gratification, over 
 all the valuable and exalted principles of our nature. 
 
 Without pubhc worship, religion could not long subsist ; 
 for that which might be done at all times, would be done at 
 no time; or, if private worship were attended to, religion 
 would then depend upon the unassisted talents, and the un- 
 restrained humours of each individual. A rational faith, and 
 a sound practice, would be inflamed by enthusiasm, darkened 
 by superstition, distorted by caprice, or chilled by indifl^er- 
 ence ; for religion has this in it, that it is too often marked 
 by the weakness of old age, or the unquenchable activity of 
 youth ; it has too much of the living principle, or too little ; 
 
ON THE IMPORTANCE OF PUBLIC WORSHIP. 45 
 
 it evaporates into mist, or smites away the barriers of reason 
 witli a torrent. The operations of such a mighty principle 
 must not take place in secret ; they must be called forth at 
 stated intervals, watched by enlightened guardians, mode- 
 rated by pubhc opinion, animated by sympathy, and con- 
 firmed by example. 
 
 Independently of all higher and better reasons, we all 
 ought to know, that the regularity and system of public 
 worship form no inconsiderable part of that basis on which 
 the edifice of social life is placed. Faith in contract, spirit in 
 enterprise, security in possession ; a flourishing commerce, 
 a vigorous executive, an obedient people, are blessings much 
 more intimately connected with the Gospel, than the infidel 
 believes, who scorns it because it relates only to a life of 
 eternity. 
 
 It sometimes happens, that men abstain from the public 
 worship, because they are ashamed to frequent it ; — they are 
 afraid, lest an attention to decencies should be construed into 
 feebleness of understanding ; — and, that they should be con- 
 sidered as enslaved to prejudices, because they are obedient 
 to forms ; — nay more, by an inverted hypocrisy, they would 
 seem less religious than they really are; — and avoid the cha- 
 racter of being devout, while they are enjoying the internal 
 consolations of devotion ; — whereas the duty of a sincere 
 Christian is not only to abhor that fame for intellectual vigour 
 and spirit which is evinced by irreligion, but manfully to set 
 at nought the scoffings of impiety; to confess Christ boldly 
 before men ; and to come sedulously, and purposely, and 
 constantly, to gain all that discredit, and to incur all that 
 disgrace, which sinners glory in lavishing upon the disciples 
 of Christ. Not making long prayers in the corners of the 
 streets, as the scribes and Pharisees did, for the praise of 
 men ; but coming openly to the temple to pray, that you may 
 show the scofier how little you heed him ; and that you are 
 not that fool whom every profligate wretch can sneer out of 
 his salvation. 
 
 This negligence of public worship never remains long 
 within the limits to which those who are guilty of it wish to 
 confine it. With what decency, with what hope of success, 
 can the mother pour the blessings of rehgious instruction into 
 the minds of her children, when they are all contradicted by 
 the example of him whom they are bound, and instructed 
 most reverently, to love ? While we talk of bad books and 
 
^ ON THE IMPORTANCE OF PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 bad principles, we overlook these lessons of impiety, which 
 masters and parents are perpetually reading to those who are 
 influenced by their example ; and then we make scape-goats 
 of a few popular and infidel writers, and lay the profaneness 
 of the age to their charge. 
 
 The preservation of public worship every man owes to his 
 own immediate happiness ; — he owes it to the vigour and 
 purity of his religious character, and to his progress in the 
 true knowledge of the Gospel ; but if blind to these, he must, 
 at least, see that he owes to it the preservation of social order, 
 and that it is his interest to cling to it as the strongest barrier 
 of industry and of peace. See what dreadful pictures are 
 drawn in the Scriptures, of the state of a people among whom 
 religion is universally neglected. — When a people are turned 
 away from the worship of the Lord their God, Peace fleeth 
 away from the midst of that people, and they are given up to 
 famine, and the sword ; — there are no joyful harvests in the 
 land, — no bleating of the flocks,— -no cheerful noise of the 
 artificer. — The right hand forgets its cunning,^ — the brow is 
 not moistened with labour ;»— they speak not of the furrows 
 of the field, nor glory in the goad ; — but dreadful lusts rise 
 up in those times, and God turneth men over to the devices 
 of their own hearts. — These are the days in which the needy 
 are forsaken ; — and the fatherless oppressed : — then it goeth 
 hard with just men, — then the widow is spoiled, then the 
 blood of innocents is shed : — Come, then, under the roof of 
 the Almighty, and gather yourselves under the shadow of his 
 wings. — The public worship of God is the ancient, and the 
 sure guardian of human happiness : — do not trifle with it 
 as if it were of no avail; justice, and faith, and mercy, and 
 kindness, flow from the altars of God, — it is here that men 
 learn to pity ; — it is here that they are taught to forgive ; 
 — it is here that they learn punctuality in contracts, obedi- 
 ence to magistrates, submission to superiors, respect for laws, 
 loyalty to kings ; and there, above ah, it is, that they catch 
 that true spirit of the Gospel, which, meliorating all things, 
 makes submission to superiors voluntary, by rendering 
 superiors gracious, — respect for laws natural, by making 
 laws just, — the loyalty to kings pleasant, by making kings 
 good. 
 
SERMON VL 
 
 ON FAST DAY. 
 
 February, 1808. 
 
 Sanctify ye a fast ', call a solemn assembly; gather the elders, and all the 
 inhabitants of the land, into the house of the Lord our God, and cry unto 
 the Lord. — Joel i. verse 14. 
 
 Fasting has, in all ages and among all nations, been an 
 exercise much in use in times of mourning and affliction. 
 There is no example of fasting, properly so called, before the 
 time of Moses ; yet it is presumable, the patriarchs had re- 
 course to that religious exercise, since we see that there were 
 very great mournings among them ; such as that of Abraham 
 for Sarah, and Jacob for his son, Joseph. Moses enjoins no 
 particular fast, in his five books, excepting that on the solemn 
 day of expiation, which was generally and strictly observed. 
 ♦' On the tenth day of the seventh month, ye shall afflict your 
 souls." After the time of Moses, examples of fasting were 
 very common among the Jews. Joshua, and the elders, 
 remained prostrate before the ark, from morning until eve- 
 ning, after the children of Israel were defeated by the men of 
 Ai. The eleven tribes, which had taken up arms against that 
 of Benjamin, seeing they could not hold out against the in- 
 habitants of Gibeah, fell down upon the ark, upon their 
 faces, and, in this manner, continued until the evening with- 
 out food. The very heathens, sometimes, fasted ; and the 
 King of Nineveh, terrified with the preaching of Jonas, made 
 an order, that not only man but beast also, should continue 
 without food from the rising to the setting of the sun. And 
 the Jews, in the times of public calamity, made even children 
 at the breast fast. It does not appear, from the practice of 
 
48 ON FAST DAY. 
 
 our Saviour, and his disciples, that he instituted any particu- 
 lar fast, or enjoined any to be kept out of pure devotion ; but 
 when the Pharisees reproached him that his disciples did not 
 fast as often as their disciples, or as the disciples of John the 
 Baptist, his reply is, " Can ye make the children of the 
 bridegroom fast, while the bridegroom is with them : but 
 the day shall come when the bridegroom shall be taken away 
 from them, and then shall they fast in those days :" clearly 
 pointing out a future age of the church, when fasting would 
 be a proper and expedient institution. Fasting is, likewise, 
 confirmed by our Saviour's sermon on the mount, though not 
 as a stated, yet as an occasional duty of Christians, that 
 through these means, they might strengthen their sense of 
 dependence upon divine Providence, and humble their souls 
 before the afflicting hand of God. This is a slight sketch 
 of that Scriptural practice, and those Scriptural authorities 
 upon which the institution of fasting depends. It has, in 
 itself, this peculiar good, that it provokes attention, by inter- 
 rupting ordinary habits ; the flow of business, and pleasure, 
 is on a sudden stopped ; the world is thrown into gloom, and 
 a certain solemnity of thought obtruded upon those whose 
 outward senses must be influenced, before their inward hearts 
 can be moved. The people of Nineveh believed in God and 
 proclaimed a fast, and put on sackcloth, from the greatest to 
 the lowest; and the king arose from his throne, and laid his 
 robe from him, and covered him with sackcloth, and sat in 
 ashes, and cried night and day unto God, 
 
 The object, then, of this day, is to confess our sins and to 
 repent of them; and, consequently, the object of the ministers 
 of the Gospel, on this day, is to state what those sins are, what 
 are their consequences, and how they may be avoided. 
 
 Sins maybe considered under a twofold division; those 
 which individuals always commit, which are the consequence 
 of our fallen state, and inseparable from our frail nature ; and 
 those which are the result of any particular depravity, exist- 
 ing in a greater degree at this time than at any other time, or 
 in this country, than among any other people. 
 
 With respect to the first class of sins, though the utmost 
 degree of exertion of which we are capable, can never carry 
 us to the perfection which the Gospel requires, or make us 
 worthy of the mercy which it holds forth, still it is right to 
 remind mankind of those imperfections, inherent in their 
 nature, lest they should relax from the exertions of which they 
 
;\ 
 
 ON FAST DAY. 49^ 
 
 are really capable ; — to show, to the best of human creatures, 
 that they are still miserable sinners, checks that arrogance 
 which is so apt to rise up in our hearts ; compels us to turn our 
 minds away from the imperfect examples of goodness we can 
 meet with here, and to lift them up to that image of purity 
 which makes our goodness more energetic, more proHfic, and 
 more permanent : to put us out of conceit with our own ex- 
 ertions, preserves that feeling of dependence upon an higher 
 power, which is the preservation of our present, and the 
 pledge of our future happiness. If our Saviour had told us, 
 as human philosophers have told us, that good men were 
 glorious and dignified ; if he had dwelt perpetually upon the 
 grandeur and importance of virtue ; upon what cheap and 
 easy terms would men have been contented with themselves ; 
 — how soon would these notions of their own dignity have 
 broken that chain which reaches from the heart of man to 
 the throne of God. — The Gospel now says there are eternal 
 rewards, and there are eternal punishments ; to gain the one 
 and to avoid the other, you must do good ; but you must add 
 to that goodness the deepest humility and the firmest depend- 
 ance upon the help of God. You must not look backward 
 upon what you have done, but forward upon what you have to 
 do. You must consider not the little difference between you 
 and the rest of your species, but the immeasurable interval 
 between you and the highest purity; and you must gather 
 from these reflections, that humihty of righteousness which 
 will make you desirous of doing more, by making you dis- 
 satisfied with what you have done. All this good naturally 
 follows from the doctrine of man's fallen nature ; from the 
 profound humility which the Gospel enjoins to him; and from 
 the impossibility under which we are now so wisely placed, 
 of claiming any merit from our actions, except through the 
 mercy and mediation of Christ. 
 
 Quitting this subject, and coming now to that part of our 
 conduct which is invariable, to that small and contracted 
 sphere in which it is allotted to us to do better, or do worse, 
 I shall begin with the subject of religion ; and here the great 
 evil to deplore, and the afflicting circumstance which cannot 
 but be noticed by every true friend of the orthodox church, is 
 that prodigious increase of sectaries, of all ranks and descrip- 
 tions, which are daily springing up in this kingdom, and fall- 
 ing off from the mother church; — these men seem to think 
 that the spirit of religion consists in a certain fervid irritability 
 5 
 
W":-. ON FAST DAY. 
 
 of mind; and that agitation and eagerness are the most ac- 
 ceptable sacrifices which they can make to their Creator ; — 
 the calm address of the Estahhshed Church is, in their estima- 
 tion, a species of impiety ; and, before he prays to the God of 
 heaven and earth, an human being must lash himself up into 
 wildness and enthusiasm. 
 
 Another unfortunate peculiarity of these seceders from the- 
 Established Church is, that they are always straining at gnats, 
 always suspecting happiness, always casting over rehgion an 
 air of something bordering upon that which is frivolous and 
 vexatious ; degrading the majesty of the Gospel, and painting 
 the Lord of all things as a God of trifles and narrow obser- 
 vances ; as a God raging forever against those most trivial 
 omissions, which even the best and ablest of his creatures 
 can forget and forgive. But the most fatal of all errors which 
 proceeds from this modern fanaticism, is the contempt and the 
 horror which they express for all the practical doctrines of 
 Christianity insisted upon from the pulpit ; the zeal with which 
 they cry down any attempt to render men better in their daily 
 conduct, and to produce some actual useful improvement. 
 We might suppose, from such notions of the Christian faith, 
 that Christianity was a set of speculative disquisitions, where, 
 if a man agreed only with the barren and useless results, he 
 was left in liberty to follow the devices of his own heart, and 
 to lead what manner of life his fancy or his passions might 
 dictate. It is evangelical, according to these notions, to 
 preach to men of high and exalted mysteries ; it is unevange- 
 lical to w^arn men against pride, against anger, against avarice, 
 against fraud, against all the innumerable temptations by 
 which we are hurried away from our duty to our Creator, 
 and from the great care of salvation. All these subjects it 
 is now in the practice of fanatics to call by the name of moral, 
 as if they had nothing to do with the Gospel, as if (as I before 
 observed), the Gospel busied itself only with some unfruitful 
 propositions, and remained quite passive at, and unconcerned 
 by the actions of mankind. But let any man turn to his 
 Gospel, and see if there is a single instance of our blessed 
 Saviour's life, where he does not eagerly seize upon every 
 opportunity of inculcating something practical, of bringing 
 some passion under subjection, of promoting the happiness of 
 the world, by teaching his followers to abstain from something 
 hurtful ; and to do something useful. — The effort, and the ob- 
 ject, of our blessed Saviour, are always to draw scane inference, 
 
ON FAST DAY. 51 
 
 and to make some application from the events before him ; — 
 the most practical book that ever was written is the Gospel ; 
 and the great point where it differs from human morals, is, 
 that human morals say, do so for present convenience, and 
 the Gospel says, do so for eternal reward ; — human morals 
 say, do so because it has appeared to wise men to be the best 
 rule of life ; the Gospel says, do so because it is the will of 
 God; — they both say do it, but they differ in the authority, 
 and the motive, as much as Omniscience differs from frailty, 
 and Eternity from time. But the moment fanatical men hear 
 anything plain and practical introduced into religion, then 
 they say this is secular, this is worldly, this is moral, this 
 is not of Christ. — I am sure you will think with me, that 
 the only way to know Christ, is not to make our notions his 
 notions, or to substitute any conjectures of our own as to what 
 religion ought to be, for an humble and faithful inquiry of 
 what it is. — The books which contain the word of life are 
 open before us, and every one may judge of their nature and 
 object; if they consisted of lofty and sentimental effusion; if 
 they indulged in subtle disquisition, then, perhaps, it might 
 be our duty to appear before you, sometimes with disordered 
 feelings, sometimes with the spirit of profound investigation ; 
 but the ministers of the Established Church are practical in 
 their doctrines, because the Scriptures which they explain are 
 practical ; when they attack any vice to which the nature of 
 man is subjected, they conceive themselves to be punctually 
 fulfiUing the commands of their great master ; — they do not 
 believe that you will call for Tabana, and Farfar, and the 
 rivers of Damascus, because God has commanded you to wash 
 in the waters of Israel ; they do not imagine you will ask for 
 mystery, when it has pleased God to give you that which is 
 simple and intelligible ; they cannot doubt but that you will 
 remember, though morals and religion teach us abstinence 
 from the same crimes, that abstinence, in the one case, is a 
 question of prudence ; in the other, a question of salvation ; — 
 in the one case, we only believe the rule to be right, in the 
 other, we are sure it is right. Can any man, however fond 
 of opposing morals to religion, suppose that the practical du- 
 ties, which may be found in the Gospel, were first taught to 
 mankind by the Gospel? does he imagine that there were not 
 ten thousand books before the coming of our Saviour, which 
 said, do not kill; do not commit adultery; cultivate benevo- 
 lence ; moderate pride ; follow the rules of temperance ? Our 
 
59 ON FAST DAY. 
 
 Saviour did not come to preacli new discoveries to mankind ; 
 but to give to the rules of conduct, which men had discovered 
 "by the light of nature, the higher authority and the more 
 powerful motives of religion. How, then, is it possible to 
 comply with those unreasonable persons, who require some- 
 thing totally different from moral rules, before they will allow 
 that you are saying anything about religion 1 A moralist 
 and a religionist must both equally inculcate charity and for- 
 giveness of injuries ; when you hear the one, you say it is 
 prudent, and expedient to act so ; when you listen to the other, 
 all the sublimity of good and evil is before you, and you are 
 moved by an eternity of joy and pain. I have dwelt long 
 upon this erroneous notion of rehgion, because it is one of the 
 most useful weapons of fanaticism, and is daily producing, 
 much practical mischief. -^ 
 
 There is a contrary excess in matters of religion, not ^less 
 fatal than fanaticism, and still more common : I mean that lan- 
 guor and indifference upon serious subjects' which characte- 
 rize so great a part of mankind ; not speculative disbelief, not 
 profligate scoffing against religion, not incompliance with 
 the ceremonies it enjoins ; but no penetration of Christianity 
 into the real character ; little influence of the Gospel upon 
 the daily conduct : a cold, careless, and unfruitful belief. ' Let 
 it be our care to steer between these opposite extremes ; tobe 
 serious without being enthusiastic ; and to be reasonable with- 
 out being cold ;'^alike to curb the excesses of those who have 
 zeal without discretion, and to stimulate the feelings of others, 
 who have conformity without zeal ; remembering always that 
 everything intended to endure, must be regulated by mode- 
 ration, discretion and knowledge. 
 
 In looking abroad, my brethren, to consider the relation 
 which this country bears to the other nations of the world, and 
 the probable destiny which awaits it, it is impossible not to 
 tremble at the perilous uncertainty of human affairs, and to 
 bow before the judgments of Almighty God. The state of 
 the world is like the vision of a sick man, and the thoughts of 
 a dreamer of dreams, when he is awakened by the light of 
 the morning ;'^the pageantry of the earth is vanished away, 
 and the powers and principalities which existed in the days 
 of our youth, known only by their names, are still fast fading 
 away from the memory of mankind. All these have fallen 
 before the bad ambition of him who is directing against us 
 the last efforts of his genius and his power ; a man powerful 
 
ON FAST DAY. 63 
 
 to do evil, not wise, and far-sighted ; and patient enough to 
 do good ; not caring for, not wishing it ; dedicated to uni- 
 versal conquest and destruction ; wishing only to walk over 
 the smoking ashes of the world, and to be remembered by 
 future ages as a passing storm. In the midst of this outward 
 wretchedness, we enjoy, in this island, the internal spectacle 
 of a people, unanimous in discharging the great duties which 
 they owe to their country, and quite prepared to submit to 
 every privation, if the only price of quiet affluence is submis- 
 sion to indignity. If it is beautiful to behold this, it is still 
 -more pleasing to reflect upon the causes by which that una- 
 nimity has been occasioned ; to remember those laws which 
 have long administered equal justice to the rich and poor, 
 that constitution which has defined the power of those who 
 govern, and the privileges of those who are governed ; and 
 that church, which for three centuries has been instilling the 
 precepts of justice and manly piety into the hearts of the 
 people. These are beautiful institutions, which have always 
 been praised, but are now felt ; they are the institutions 
 which have kept us in life, and strength, amid the ruin of 
 nations, that had nothing to fight for but the caprices of their 
 tyrants,; and nothing to guide them but the superstitions of 
 their false rehgion ; — these are principles which must secure 
 to us a safe existence, or a majestic fall ; if our sun does set, 
 it will set in splendour ; if we are to be blotted out from the 
 powers of the world, we shall light up, in ages yet unborn, 
 the flame of freedom ; whenever the fullness of our time is 
 come, we shall leave behind us a page of history, which will 
 appal tyrants, instruct the wise, and animate the brave ; we 
 shall teach mankind, that the sword is used abroad with the 
 greatest strength where the sceptre is wielded at home with 
 the most perfect justice ; — we shall teach them, that in the 
 great convulsions of the world, the people which remain the 
 longest, and suffer the least, are those who are excited to 
 resistance by a sense of the enjoyments which they are 
 about to lose, and who are inured to a confidence in Almighty 
 God, by the precepts of a wise, a temperate, and a feeling 
 piety. 
 
SERMON VII. 
 
 ON THE UTILITY OF MEDITATING 
 ON DEATH. 
 
 I protest, by your rejoicing, which I have in Christ Jesus our Lord, I die 
 daily. — 1 Corinthians xv. verse 31. 
 
 Thus it is that the apostle brought daily before his mind 
 the consideration of his death ; of that period which was to 
 terminate the good and evil of his days ; and to bring him 
 before his Saviour, and his Judge. He exerted his ardent 
 imagination to banish the consciousness of life and health, to 
 summon up images of sorrow, and to draw a true portrait of 
 that solemn and suffering day. Let us see, after the exam- 
 ple of this great minister of the Gospel, if there be not some 
 wisdom in cherishing, and dwelling upon, these occasional 
 feelings and in spreading this gloom over the soul ; a gloom 
 which, like the shadow of Peter's body, gives life and 
 strength to whatever it obscures. The general subject, then, 
 of my discourse, will be a consideration of the utility which is 
 to be derived from the meditation on death ; for there is a 
 sorrow the end whereof is joy ; and eternal laughter leadeth 
 to destruction. It is better, sometimes, to steal from the glad- 
 ness of the feast, — to stop the joy of the harp, — to quench the 
 splendour of the lamp, — to put off the wedding garment, — 
 and to speak of the wretchedness of the grave. The time 
 must come when this soul and body shall be rent in twain, 
 — I must lay on my last bed ; and the darkness of death shall 
 hide me from my beloved companions. The day must come, 
 but I know not when ; the feet of them which have buried 
 my kindred are at the door ; — it may be, they shall carry me 
 out. 
 
 One great advantage of the meditation on death is, that it 
 
ON THE UTILITY OF MEDITATING ON DEATH. 55 
 
 leaches us to value all earthly things aright; and perpetually 
 corrects the fallacy of our calculations, by reminding us of 
 the period to which they apply; — it discourages those schemes 
 of fraud, injustice and ambition, the fruits of which are dis- 
 tant, by reminding us, that that distance we may never reach, 
 —that death, which cuts short the enjoyment, leaves us with 
 the whole load of guilt, because that depends on the design ; 
 whereas, it gives the freest scope to virtuous exertions, because 
 they have their full merit with our Heavenly Judge, how^ever 
 they may be interrupted by the uncertainty of human life. 
 See what we sacrifice every day to wealth and power, for 
 want of due meditation on death ; and how apt we are to 
 forget, that the fruits of our crimes remain but for the passing 
 moment; — when comfort, and peace of mind, and proud 
 integrity, are all yielded up, we cannot enjoy even a few 
 years of tranquil corruption ; — we have yielded up all, and it 
 is now time to yield up the ghost ; — secure to me, for whole 
 centuries, the wages of iniquity, — stop in me the gradual 
 waste of life, — guard me from the stalking pestilence,' — place 
 me on the pinnacle of power, and show me, beneath my feet, 
 all the pleasures of the world ; and then ask me to pawn 
 my soul unto sin ; — but if I do the thing which is evil to 
 day, to-morrow thou canst not save me from death, — and the 
 wasting fever may not leave me one moment of guilty re- 
 nown. 
 
 Meditation on death improves the mind, by destroying in 
 it trifling discontents, and by blunting the force of all the 
 malevolent passions ; — the feelings of malice, jealousy and 
 hatred cannot co-exist with the prospect of the last hour, with 
 the notion of a new world, and the terror of a just God ; — the 
 thought of an eternal parting subdues hatred, and produces, 
 in miniature, all the effects of a real scene of death ; it 
 diminishes the importance of the offence we have suffered, 
 awakens that candour which self-love has set to sleep, and 
 makes us think, not of the trifling scenes which are past, but 
 of the awful events which are to come. Such a disposition 
 of mind severs, at once, all the little and unworthy attach- 
 ments to hfe, and prevents us from grieving at small evils, 
 from the lively representation which it makes, that they 
 cannot endure ; that we are hastening on to something better, 
 and greater ; and, that it is beneath the wisdom and firmness 
 of man to weep and lament for that which is as brief in 
 duration as it is insignificant in effect. 
 
iS5 ON THE UTILITY OF MEDITATING ON DEATH. 
 
 Meditation on death aggrandizes the mind, as the near 
 approach of death itself is commonly accustomed to do ; — for, 
 though men are accused of acting on their death-bed, they 
 usually act greatly, and evince an heroism of which their 
 lives have afforded little or no symptom. For what are the 
 last scenes we witness of dying men? A forgiveness of 
 injuries, which should have been forgiven years before ; an 
 avowal of faults, which should have been avowed and recti- 
 fied before half the race of life was run ; a confession of 
 Christ, who had been denied before the world ; sudden and 
 sublime flashes of wisdom, piety, and magnanimity, which 
 bear no relation to the previous life, but indicate how awful, 
 and how omnipotent are the warnings of death. 
 
 If the distant contemplation of death cannot so effectually 
 inspire us with godly thoughts, it, at least, leaves us greater 
 time for godly actions ; — whatever seeds it casts into the 
 mind may spring up and fructify ; none of its energies need 
 be barren ; death frustrates none of its admonitions ; the 
 feeblest thought of piety has time to expand itself into a wise 
 and active system of good works. 
 
 Meditation on death induces us to consider by what means 
 we shall avert its terrors; when our hour is come we cannot 
 discover that the ordinary objects of human desire, and the 
 ordinary sources of human gratification, will be then of any 
 avail ; and we are thus led by an happy foresight, to lay up 
 the remembrance of good actions, even when the last day is 
 still far distant from us. Can we figure to ourselves any- 
 thing more dreadful than an human being at the brink of death, 
 who has never once reflected that he is to die? To hear 
 those cries of anguish, to which nothing human can now 
 minister relief? — to behold him looking up to the warm sun, 
 and clinging to the cheerful world in vain ? — give him but 
 another year, — but a month, — but a day, — and he will make 
 some preparations for death ! The widow's heart shall sing 
 with joy, and the hungry be filled with good things ; — this 
 is the unspeakable wretchedness, and this the horrid surprise 
 which it is the great business of Christian wisdom to avoid. 
 Let us rather, in the middle period of youth and strength, 
 when the evil day is yet far off, commune with our own 
 hearts in the stillness of our chambers, and gather a decent 
 firmness for that trial; and when we pass through this 
 shadow of death, let our minds be pure from every bad pas- 
 sion, as they must be at the true death ; and when we have 
 
ON THE UTILITY OF MEDITATING ON DEATH. 57 
 
 meditated on these things, and forgiven all injuries, and pur- 
 posed benevolent deeds, and filled our minds full of fear, and 
 fair love, and holy hope, we shall go back with new hearts 
 and pleasures unknown before, to the common scenes of life. 
 
 But the greatest of all advantages to be derived from the 
 meditation on death, is the prospect of that eternity to which 
 it leads, — a reflection which is the support of every suffering, 
 the soul of every pleasure, and the source of every virtue ; — 
 it prevents that weariness which the sameness of life is so 
 apt to produce ; it gives a motive for enduring sorrow, and 
 for conquering passion, by opening a boundless region to the 
 fancy; it promises ease to every pain, gratification to every 
 desire, and enjoyment to every hope. In the contemplation 
 of a second existence the persecuted man figures to himself 
 a state of rest ; the poor, an exemption from want ; the sick, 
 health; the weak, power; the ignorant, knowledge; the 
 timid, safety; the mean, glory. In the contemplation of 
 eternity, that which is broken is bound up ; — that which is 
 lost is restored ; — that which is quenched is lighted again ; — 
 the parent looks for his lost child across the great gulf ; the 
 wretched widow thinks she shall see the husband of her 
 youth ; the soul, filled with holy wishes, hfts itself up to the 
 great Author of our being, who has sanctified and redeemed 
 us by the blood of Christ ; who has given cheerfulness and 
 dignity to our existence, and made the short agonies of death 
 a sure prelude to immortal life. 
 
 But we must not make our comparison between voluntary 
 meditation on death, and the total seclusion of the idea ; the 
 choice is, shall we meditate voluntarily on death, as a religious 
 exercise, or shall we be haunted by the image of death, as a 
 terrific spectre ? Shall we gain wisdom and innocence by 
 meeting the danger, or shall we, like children, be bribed by 
 the tranquillity of a moment, to keep it off^? The image of 
 death follows the man who fears it, over sea and land ; it rises 
 up at feasts and banquets ; no melody can suit it ; no sword 
 and spear can scare it away ; it is undaunted by the sceptre, 
 or the crown ; — the rich man may add field to field, and heap 
 vineyard upon vineyard, and make himself alone upon the 
 earth, but death's image strides over his towers, and walks 
 through his plains, and breaks into his nightly bed, and fills 
 his soul with secret fear! All men suffer from the dread of 
 death ; it is folly to hope you can escape it. — Our business is 
 
9 as THE XJTILITY OF HEEDITATING €N DEATH. 
 
 to receive the image, to gaze upon it, to prepare for it, to seek 
 it; and, by these means, to disarm. 
 
 It is the greatest of all errors, to attempt to escape this feel- 
 ing, by averting the mind from it ; and there are many conso- 
 lations, which the steady contemplation of it affords, by which 
 the magnitude of its terrors is circumscribed, and the idea of 
 death rendered more tolerable to the mind of man. 
 
 In our sympathy with the dead, we think not so much of 
 the real importance of their situation ; of the awful futurity 
 which awaits them from the judgment of their Saviour ; but 
 we think it miserable for them to be deprived of the sight of 
 the sun ; to be shut out from human intercourse, and laid in 
 the cold grave, a prey to corruption, and the reptiles of the 
 earth ; to be no more thought of in this world, but to be obli- 
 terated, in a little time, from the memory of their dearest 
 friends and relations ;— the happiness of the dead, however, 
 is affected by none of these things ; nor is it such circum- 
 stances which can disturb their profound repose ; they are 
 sleeping in their dust, unconscious of the mouldering scene 
 around them ; nor will they awaken any more, till the last 
 trumpet calls them to the judgment of Christ. Therefore, 
 reflection may at once cut off all this outward scenery of 
 death ; whatever it is, the dead know it not ; nor is it wise to 
 inflame, by all the terrors of imagination, an evil in which 
 there are so many realities to dread ; neither are we to sup- 
 pose that death, coming at last, is so unwelcome as our fancy, 
 viewing it at a distance, would lead us to suppose ;— -long 
 sickness induces a weariness of life ; the body is comfortless 
 in old age ; and it deadens the mind ; our friends are all gone 
 before us ; perhaps our kindred, and our children ; every 
 succeeding year dissolves some tie which binds us to the 
 world ; extinguishes some affection ; annihilates some power ; 
 weakens some appetite ; impairs some excellence ; so that 
 we perish, day after day, till little of the true man remains, 
 and the grave has but a small portion to receive. 
 
 Meditation on death teaches us, that the evil is not without 
 its remedy ; that foresight can diminish that evil ; that it is 
 an evil which may be brought within the compass of our 
 own swa}^ and dominion ; and that, though we must all die, 
 it rests with us to determine upon the feelings with which 
 we shall die, by adopting that course of actions from which 
 those feelings must proceed ;'^and this appears to me to be 
 the great use and purpose of thinking on death ; not to think 
 
ON THE UTILITY OF MEDITATING ON DEATH. 59 
 
 of that damp earth, and that dreary tomb, and those childish 
 terrors, of which the dead feel and know nothing; but to 
 impress upon our hearts this truth, that, through Christ, we 
 are become the lords of death, and masters over all the sor- 
 row and lamentation which death carries in its train ; that 
 the mere separation of matter and spirit is a pang of so 
 short a moment, that it is hardly a rational object of fear ; 
 that the real pang is the remembrance of a misspent life ; of 
 every act that has been cruel, unkind, and unjust ; of time 
 dissipated ; talents misapplied ; man injured ; and God for- 
 gotten. If you think the accumulation of such thoughts and 
 such recollections as these, is awful, take care that they do 
 not accumulate ; if you dread such agonies of spirit, look to 
 their origin, and to their cause ; remember the great apostle ; 
 draw near to God, while all the pleasures of the world are 
 yet before you ; give up to him some portion of youth and 
 health ; wait not till disease enables you to offer up only the 
 remnants and leavings of life ; but die daily,, before half your 
 career is run ; anticipate the last day ; imagine a mighty 
 God ; adore his purity ; supplicate his mercy ; tremble at his 
 power ;— be not so rash, and so mad, as to let the salvation 
 of your souls depend upon whether the air of this day is 
 noxious, or pure ; whether the blasts of heaven shall be a 
 little too damp, or a little too cold ; but be always ready for 
 death ; think, like a man engaged in warfare, that you can- 
 not call an hour your own ; and be assured of this, that death, 
 mere animal death, is nothing ; it is often better than life, 
 and thousands welcome its approach ; but the sting of death 
 is sin, and we know that victory which Christ has gained 
 over sin, by dying daily ; therefore, we may tear out that 
 sting, and welcome a gentle death, as the end of every sor- 
 row, and the harbinger of greater and nobler joys. 
 
 SMIP 
 
 im 
 
 •j$$ 
 
■)*■%'?>:■ 
 
 SEKMON VIII. 
 
 BLIND. 
 
 Truly, the light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold 
 the sun. — Ecclesiabtes xi. verse 7. 
 
 If any man were to require, at my hands, a proof of the 
 authenticity of that Gospel by the principles of which we 
 have this day been edified, and in obedience to which we are* 
 now gathered together, after I had laid before him the cogent 
 and the luminous reasoning which men, mighty in the 
 Scriptures, have put forth to confound impiety, and to resolve 
 doubt, after I had read to him the words of that Saviour who 
 spake as never man spake before, after I had strove by these 
 means to teach him that, though shrouded in the tomb, he 
 would behold his Redeemer on the last day, I would turn to 
 the daily life, and the daily mercies of Christians ; I would 
 say, let us judge the tree by its fruit ; if it is productive only 
 of idle ceremonies and trifling observances, hew it down, and 
 cast it into the flames : but if it can cause the lame to walk, 
 the leper to be cleansed, the deaf to hear, and the Wind to 
 receive their sight, — if it brings forth, in their due season, the 
 fruits of mercy, then is that tree planted by God, — then are 
 its roots too deep for the tempest, — then shall its branches 
 flourish to the clouds, — then shall all the nations of the earth 
 gather under its shade. 
 
 Try it, then, by this test ; refer the proofs of the Gospel's 
 authenticity to the criterion of active provident compassion. 
 — It studies classes, and relieves every misery of our nature ; 
 it is not sufficient for the refined, and zealous benevolence of 
 these times, to confuse the varieties of misfortune, by extend- 
 ing the same indiscriminate aid to sufferers, who agree in 
 nothing but the common characteristic of grief; — each indi- 
 
FOR THE BLIND. 61 
 
 vidual calamity experiences a distinct compassion, is cherished 
 with its appropriate comforts, and healed by its specific re- 
 medies. — The maniac is shut out from the tumults of the 
 world, the Magdalene weeps over the Gospel of Christ, and 
 washes his name with her tears ; — a mother is given to the 
 foundling,— a Samaritan to the wounded, — the drowned 
 person is called hack from the dead, — the forsaken youth is 
 snatched from the dominion of vice, — a soul is breathed into 
 the deaf and dumb, — and the child-bearing woman, when she 
 thinks of the days of her anguish, knoweth that she has 
 where to lay her head. In every corner of this Christian 
 country, some edifice rises up consecrated to mercy ; — a vast 
 hospital, a place of wounds and anguish, — a tabernacle of 
 healing, ample enough to call down the blessings of God 
 upon a city, and to wipe out half their sins. In the midst of 
 this magnificent benevolence, the children of the Gospel have 
 not forgotten the misfortunes of the blind ; they have pitied 
 their long darkness, and remembered that the light is sweet, 
 that it is a pleasant thing for the eyes to behold the sun. 
 
 The object of the society for which I am now to implore 
 your protection, is to diminish the misfortune of blindness, 
 by giving to those afflicted with it, the means of obtaining 
 support by their ingenuity and labour, and of walking in 
 the law of Christ, by attending to the religious instructions 
 and exercises prescribed by this institution. They are 
 instructed in a variety of works for which manual skill is 
 requisite, rather than bodily labour, and which they perform 
 with a dexterity astonishing to those who have connected 
 with blindness the notion of absolute helplessness and inca- 
 pacity. 
 
 A charitable institution, conducted upon such principles as 
 the asylum for the blind, is superior to any common charity, 
 as it interweaves science with compassion ; and, by showing 
 how far the other senses are capable of improvement, takes 
 off from the extent of human calamity all that it adds to the 
 limits of human knowledge. Who could have imagined, to 
 speak of a kindred instance of ingenious benevolence, that 
 the deaf and dumb could be taught to reason, to speak, and 
 to become acquainted with all the terms and intricate laws 
 of a language; or that men, who had never, from their earhest 
 infancy, enjoyed the privilege of sight, could be taught to 
 read and to write ; to print books, and the ablest of them to 
 penetrate into all the depths of mathematical learning ? S uch 
 6 
 
63 
 
 FOR THE BLIND.. 
 
 facts afford inexhaustible encouragement to men engaged in 
 the benevolent task of instructing those in whom the ordinary 
 inlets of knowledge are blocked up. — They seem to place 
 within our reach the miracles of those Scriptures from whence 
 they have sprung, and to show the fervent votary of Christ, 
 that he, also, like his great Master, can make the deaf hear, 
 the dumb speak, and the Wind see. 
 
 Consider the deplorable union of indigence and blindness, 
 and what manner of life it is from which you are rescuing 
 these unhappy people ; the Wind man comes out in the 
 morning season to cry aloud for his food ; — when he hears 
 no longer the feet of men he knows that it is night, and gets 
 him back to the silence and the famine of his cell. Active 
 poverty becomes rich; labour and prudence are rewarded 
 with distinction : the weak of the earth have risen up to be 
 strong; but he is ever dismal, and ever forsaken ! The man 
 who comes back to his native city after years of absence, 
 beholds again the same extended hand into which he cast his 
 boyish alms ; the self-same spot, the old attitude of sadness, 
 the ancient cry of sorrow, the intolerable sight of a human 
 being that has grown old in supphcating a miserable support 
 for a helpless, mutilated frame, — such is the life these unfor- 
 tunate children would lead, had they no friend to appeal to 
 your compassion,' — such are the evils we will continue to 
 remedy, if they experience from you that compassion which 
 their magnitude so amply deserves. 
 
 The author of the book of Ecclesiastes has told us that the 
 light is sweet, that it is a pleasant thing for the eyes to be- 
 hold the sun ; the sense of sight is, indeed, the highest bodily 
 privilege, the purest physical pleasure, which man has de- 
 rived from his Creator : To see that wandering fire, after he 
 has finished his journey through the nations, coming back 
 to us in the eastern heavens ; the mountains painted with 
 hght ; the floating splendour of the sea ; the earth waking 
 from deep slumber ; the day flowing down the sides of the 
 hills, till it reaches the secret valleys ; the little insect recalled 
 to life ; the bird trying her wings ; man going forth to his 
 labour; each created being moving, thinking, acting, con- 
 triving according to the scheme and compass of its nature ; 
 by force, by cunning, by reason, by necessity, — is it possible 
 to joy in this animated scene and feel no pity for the sons of 
 darkness ? for the eyes that will never taste the sweet light ? 
 for the poor, clouded in everlasting gloom ? — If you ask me 
 
TOR THE BLIND. 63 
 
 why they are miserable and dejected, I turn you to the 
 plentiful valleys ; to the fields now bringing forth their in- 
 crease ; to the freshness and the flowers of the earth ; to the 
 endless variety of its colours ; to the grace, the symmetry, 
 the shape of all it cherishes, and all it bears ; these you have 
 forgotten because you have always enjoyed them ; but these 
 are the means by which God Almighty makes man what he 
 is ; cheerful, lively, erect ; full of enterprize mutable, glanc- 
 ing from Heaven to earth ; prone to labour and to act. — Why 
 was not the earth left without form and void? Why was 
 not darkness suffered to remain on the face of the deep ? 
 Why did God place lights in the firmament for days, for 
 seasons, for signs, and for years? — that he might make man 
 the happiest of beings, that he might give to this his favourite 
 creation a wider scope, a more permanent duration ; a richer 
 diversity of joy : this is the reason why the blind are mise- 
 rable and dejected, because their soul is mutilated and dis- 
 membered of its best sense ; because they are a laughter and 
 a ruin, and the boys of the streets mock at their stumbHng 
 feet ; therefore I implore you, by the Son of David, have 
 mercy on the blind : if there is not pity for all sorrows, turn 
 the full and perfect man to meet the inclemency of fate : let 
 not those who have never tasted the pleasures of existence, 
 be assailed by any of its sorrows ; — the eyes which are never 
 gladdened by light should never stream with tears. 
 
 Nothing is more commonly known, than that those who 
 are born blind cannot form the smallest notion of colours 
 and of light ; it is impossible, however, they should hear the 
 pleasures derivable from sight so frequently spoken of by 
 others, without comparing them with other sources of gratifi- 
 cation with which they happen to be acquainted ; it is an 
 affecting and interesting circumstance in the annals of one* 
 who had himself been Wind from his infancy, that the simili- 
 tude he was always apt to frame for the unknown pleasures 
 of sight, were the pleasures of virtue and religion to his pious 
 and ardent imagination ; the landscape of the evening was 
 like the close of a well spent life ; friendship and pity were 
 the full stream and the green pasture ; the Gospel was the 
 day spring from on high. 
 
 There is a pleasure in the sight of the human countenance, 
 greater than any derived from the contemplation of those 
 
 * Dr. Blacklock. 
 
64 FOR THE BLIND. 
 
 objects to which we bear a cold and a distant relation ; it is 
 pleasant to the heart of man to be met with looks of kindness 
 and regard ; to see a countenance that promises support in 
 the evil day, that reminds us of ancient attachments, and 
 family love : that carries the awful signs of those feelings 
 and passions which must influence our future fate. Which 
 of you that expects to see a long absent brother, or a child 
 returning from the perils of war and of distant lands ; which 
 of you would forego the pleasure of tracing every lineament 
 of his face, and reading on his features the language of deep 
 and ardent aflJection? Ask of these unhappy children what 
 they would sacrifice that they might see, were it only for an 
 instant, the mother that nursed them ; the guide that led 
 them out ; the brother that has treated them kindly and gently 
 in their infant days ? But brother, and parent, and guide, and 
 friend, are one to them ; they know not the signs of nature, 
 the looks of mercy, and the smiles of love. 
 
 Another source of misery to the blind, is their defenceless 
 weakness of body ; they can neither foresee evil, ascertain 
 its nature, nor avert its consequences. If they venture a step 
 from their usual haunts, every spot on which they tread is 
 pregnant with some new danger ; — the earth seems to them 
 a continued precipice.-— The blind, says a very excellent 
 writer, who had himself never enjoyed the blessing of sight ; 
 the blind not only may be, but actually are, during a con- 
 siderable period, apprehensive of danger in every motion 
 towards any place from whence their contracted powers of 
 perception give them no intelligence. All the various modes 
 of delicate proportion ; all the beautiful varieties of lights and 
 colours ; whether exhibited in the works of nature, or of art ; 
 are to them irretrievably lost ; — dependent for everything, 
 except mere subsistence, on the good offices of others ; ob- 
 noxious to injury from every point, which they are neither 
 capacitated to receive, nor quahfied to resist, they are, during 
 the present state of being, rather prisoners at large, than 
 citizens of nature. 
 
 To estimate the advantages of sight, or of any other blessing 
 coeval with life, we should call in the force of constrast, and 
 consider what the condition of man would have been, had it 
 pleased God to create him without it. Devoid of sight, man 
 would acquire his knowledge of the properties of bodies, 
 slowly, singly, and with extreme uncertainty ; — the sluggish 
 current of his ideas would render him unfit for enterprize, his 
 
FOR THE BLIND. ^ 
 
 submission to every danger passive, or his opposition fruitless 
 and confused ; — some faint intelligence he would derive from 
 sound ; but he could receive few accurate notions from any- 
 greater distance than he could reach. From all that knowledge 
 of bodies which we derive from an acquaintance with their 
 affinities to light ; and which, to us, are the signs of vigour 
 and decay, salubrity and harm; youth and age; hatred and 
 love; he would be eternally precluded; — his mind must 
 necessarily be exercised upon diminutive objects ; because, 
 though a long-continued series of touches would give him an 
 accurate notion of each part touched, he could not, from such 
 disconnected intelligence, collect the notion of a single indi- 
 vidual mass. The works of God thus broken into baubles, 
 and given to him bit by bit, what can this truncated, mutilated 
 being know of the wisdom and power of his Creator ? — Open 
 to him now the visible world ; he penetrates into distant 
 space ; — he sees, at one glance, millions of objects ; — he views 
 the breadth, and depth, and altitude of things ; — he perceives 
 there is a God among the aged streams, and the perpetual 
 mountains, and the everlasting hills. 
 
 My brethren, as no other topic worthy of your attention 
 presses upon me, I conclude with recommending most earnest- 
 ly these distressed objects to your notice ; and I remind you 
 how merciful our blessed Saviour was wont to show himself 
 to their afflictions. BHnd Bartimeus sat by the way-side beg- 
 ging; and, as the crowd passed by, he cried, with a loud 
 voice, " Thou son of David have mercy on me." Jesus stop- 
 ped the multitude ; and, before them all, restored him to his 
 sight. The first thing that he saw, who never saw before, 
 was the Son of God. These blind persons, like Bartimeus, 
 will never see, till they behold their Redeemer on the last 
 day; not as he then was, in his earthly shape, but girded by 
 all the host of heaven ; — the judge of nations ; — the everlast- 
 ing counsellor ;— the prince of peace. At that hour, this 
 heaven and earth will pass away, and all things melt with 
 fervent heat ; — but, in the wreck of worlds, no tittle of mercy 
 shall perish, and the deeds of the just shall be recorded in thQ 
 mind of God, 
 
i'l 'i'V 
 
 SEEM ON IX. 
 
 ON DUTY TO PARENTS. 
 
 And this is the fifth Commandment. Honour thy father and thy mother, 
 that thy days may be long in the land, which the Lord thy God giveth 
 thee. 
 
 It is almost superfluous to observe upon the importance of 
 this law to the welfare and tranquillity of society, as it places 
 the young under the tuition, not only of the old and the ex- 
 perienced, but of those whom affection urges to seize on all the 
 resources which age and experience can suggest for their 
 advantage. 
 
 The law orders and the magistrate executes ; but the law 
 would be vain and the magistrate powerless, if the parent did 
 not dispose the minds of his children for the reception of that 
 law, and prepare them, by obedience to him, for submission 
 to those whom he himself obeys. 
 
 In proportion, therefore, as this great virtue of filial obe- 
 dience is ingrafted upon the manners of any country, in the 
 same proportion will decency and good order prevail there ; 
 and every precept of the Gospel be more deeply engraven in 
 the minds, and uniformly displayed in the actions of that 
 people. 
 
 We may observe, that this command of Almighty God is 
 conveyed in a very comprehensive expression, — honour thy 
 father and thy mother; — not simply support, or defend them; 
 but honour them, — a term which comprehends not only the 
 grosser and more obvious duties of preserving them from 
 want and protecting them from violence, but secures to them 
 delicate attentions ; studies them with eager and inquisitive 
 affection ; screens them with partial judgments ; soothes them 
 with profound veneration ; repays to them all that fine care. 
 
ON DUTY TO PARENTS. 67 
 
 which has averted the perils of infant life and brought out an 
 human being to the perfection of his reason, and the summit 
 of his strength. 
 
 In handhng this branch of Christian doctrine, I shall en- 
 deavour, first, to show what are the ordinary obstacles to a 
 right performance of this duty ; secondly, to point out in what 
 the duty principally consists. 
 
 To the repayment of those obligations which we owe to our 
 parents, there is one very considerable, and very singular ob- 
 stacle ; the immensity of those obHgations themselves. — We 
 have lived in such a constant state of protection from our 
 parents, in the uniform reception of so much kindness, that 
 their benevolence wants the effect of contrast to produce its 
 just impression upon our minds ; the benefits we experience 
 from our neighbours awaken our attention, because they are 
 actions superior to the ordinary tenour of their benevolence ; 
 but we do not notice the kindness of a parent, because he has 
 been always kind ; we are less sensible to his bounties, be- 
 cause we have never experienced any interruption of them 
 for a single instant ; they are like health, and strength, and 
 youth ; where custom blunts the edge of enjoyment, and the 
 magnitude of the possession is only discovered by the misery 
 of the loss. It is also a little in the genius of human nature, 
 to think obligations burthensome, and to become careless of 
 remuneration, when they are so great, that it is very difficult 
 to discharge those obligations effectually, and to make that 
 remuneration complete; thus, while smaller instances of 
 friendship are repaid with precision and with pride, the 
 greatest of all benefactors are sometimes treated with ingrati- 
 tude from the very extent and compass of their goodness. 
 
 Another circumstance, which blunts the sense of fihal ob- 
 ligation is, that the kindness of parents, one of the most com- 
 mon of all virtues, appears so natural from every human 
 being towards his offspring, that though it would be shocking 
 to want it, it is considered as not meritorious to possess it. — 
 But observe, why this virtue of parental kindness is common, 
 because it is also common to receive a return for it in filial 
 obedience ; — nature has laid the foundation ; the expectation 
 of reaping the sweets of parental kindness, justified by the 
 feeling of all men, in all ages, has done much more. To deny 
 the obligations which you owe to parents, because it is com- 
 mon in all parents to do good to their children, is to withhold 
 the reward which principally makes that kindness so com- 
 
68 ON DUTY TO PARENTS. 
 
 mon ; and to frustrate as much as in you lies, this great com- 
 mandment of Almighty God. For, consider to what the kind- 
 ness of parents would soon be reduced, if it were generally 
 claimed as a matter of right ; and how soon, under the in- 
 fluence of compulsion, the most expanded benevolence would 
 contract itself into the narrowest and most inconsiderable 
 hmits. 
 
 But the affection of parents, it may be urged, is a feeling 
 of nature ; therefore they have no merit in obeying it, but is 
 not every act of Christian righteousness founded on some 
 feehng of nature ? Is compassion no virtue ? Is courage, 
 rightly exercised, no virtue ? Is gratitude no virtue ? Is the 
 fear of offending no virtue ? All these qualities are provided 
 for by nature, — all these qualities men call virtues, — all these 
 quahties Christ taught, practised, and possessed ; to deny 
 merit to actions, because we are prompted to them by nature, 
 is to put an end at once to all human virtues, because there 
 is not a single one to which we are not carried by some ori- 
 ginal principle of our nature. It must be observed, too, that, 
 on every occasion, we are impelled by the constitution of our 
 minds to two opposite systems of action ; and that merit and 
 duty consist in selecting the right propensity : Fear prompts 
 us to fly, shame to remain, gratitude to remunerate, avarice 
 to withhold, parental affection to cherish, selfishness to ne- 
 glect. That man is righteous who, in the conflict of passions, 
 subdues those feelings which God has given us to be sub- 
 dued; and obeys those feehngs which he has given us to be 
 obeyed. 
 
 The sense of those obligations we owe to our parents, is 
 frequently impaired by the lapse of time since those obliga- 
 tions have been incurred; the season of infancy is passed away 
 like a dream ; the dangerous impetuosity of youth is sub- 
 sided: we feel strong and wise, and forget the days of weak- 
 ness, and the nursing father and the nursing mother of the 
 times that are gone ; — we remember these things no more ; 
 but they hve in the memory of the old, and it seemeth hard 
 to them that they should no more be had in remembrance. 
 
 These are some of the principal reasons which impede us 
 in this duty of honouring our parents. Let us now see how 
 this duty itself is to be performed. 
 
 There are few men, in the present state of society, (soft- 
 ened as the human heart is by the Gospel of Christ,) who, on 
 great and glaring occasions, would be deficient in duty to 
 
ON DUTY TO PARENTS. ^ 
 
 their parents ; who would suffer them to perish hy want ; or 
 would refuse to rescue them from aggression. Such sort of 
 occasions very rarely occur ; and, therefore, he who comforts 
 himself, that he would, in the cause of his parents, display 
 this species of alacrity, should remember, however excellent 
 his intentions may be, that he will, most probably, pass 
 through life, without ever putting them to the test. There 
 are little sacrifices of daily occurrence, which, in a series of 
 years, contribute as materially to the happiness of a parent, 
 and which, because they are obscure, and have no swelling 
 sentiments to support them, are more difficult for a continua- 
 tion than more splendid actions. Every man has little in- 
 firmities of temper and disposition, which require forgiveness; 
 peculiarities which should be managed; prejudices which 
 should be avoided ; innocent habits which should be indulged; 
 fixed opinions which should be treated with respect; parti- 
 cular feelings and delicacies which should be consulted ; all 
 this may be done without the slightest violation of truth, or 
 the most trifling infringement of religion ; these are the sacri- 
 fices which repay a man, in the decline of his life, for all 
 that he has sacrificed in the commencement of yours ; this 
 makes a parent delight in his children, and repose on them, 
 when his mind and his body are perishing away, and he is 
 hastening on to the end of all things. — Consider that he has 
 been used to govern you ; that (however you may have for- 
 gotten it) the remembrance is fresh to him, of that hour, when 
 you stood before him as a child, and he was to you as a God. 
 Bear with him in his old age ; pain and sickness have made 
 him what you see ; he has been galled by the injustice, per- 
 haps, and stung by the ingratitude of men; let him not see 
 that old age is coming upon him, that his temper is impaired, 
 or that his wisdom is diminished ; but as the infirmities of life 
 double upon him, double you your kindness ; make him re* * 
 spectable to himself, soothe him, comfort him, honour your 
 father and your mother, that your days may be long, that you 
 may be justified by your own heart, and honoured by the 
 children which God giveth to you. 
 
 Parents are honoured by the strict and sacred concealment-*^ 
 of any faults they may be discovered to possess. A good 
 son will be loth to suppose that his parents have any faults ; 
 ►—but he must be the worst, and wickedest of men, who un- 
 veils their nakedness, and avails himself of those occasions 
 which their protection has given him, to study their weak- 
 
70 ON DUTY TO PARENTS. 
 
 nesses, and to expose them to a merciless world. Neither 
 is it only the duty of a child not to publish the faults of his 
 parents; let him take every fair and judicious opportunity 
 of mentioning their virtues, — their justice, — their kindness, 
 — their forbearance, — their zeal to promote the welfare of 
 their offspring : — in this way a man is honoured by his chil- 
 dren ; such testimony of children, prudently and modestly 
 delivered, the world always receives with favour and esteem, 
 as they ought to do that rectitude of conduct in the parent 
 which has impressed itself so deeply on the mind of the 
 child. 
 
 I need not add to my explanation of what is meant by 
 honouring a parent, — the necessity of obeying him, in all 
 things lawful, — of consulting him in all the important pro- 
 ceedings of our lives, — of referring to his advice and instruc- 
 tion in every difficulty, — of showing that we feel, on all 
 occasions, the strength of that sacred connection which binds 
 us to the authors of our existence. 
 
 No man, perhaps, can feel with sufficient energy all those 
 duties which he owes to his parents, before he himself is a 
 
 "-•fjarent, and stands in the same relation to other human 
 beings. — It is then he begins to perceive that the fears are 
 real ; that all the watchings and all the anxieties are true ; — 
 
 ■"-that God has made nothing so timid, so kind, so good, as the 
 heart of a parent ; — it is then you will discover why a parent 
 is wounded by the slightest neglect, why he is more sensitive 
 in all his joys and sorrows, — why he rejoices in your faintest 
 glory, — why he mourns over your least disquietude, — why 
 he follows you from the cradle to the grave with an affection 
 which no labour can disgust, no peril intimidate, and which 
 scarcely the blackest ingratitude can ever dissolve. Even 
 the rebellion of Absalom could not extinguish the affection 
 of David ; but his victory was turned into mourning ; the 
 king forgot that he was safe upon the throne of Israel, and 
 called night and day for his son, weeping in the chamber 
 over the gate, and wishing that God had smitten him with 
 death. 
 
 It should be a great incitement to the performance of this 
 duty, that when the time comes for repenting that we have 
 neglected it, when the Httle personal feuds and jealousies 
 which blind our understanding are at an end, and it becomes 
 plain to the judge, within the breast, that we have often ne- 
 glected the authors of our being, often given them unneces- 
 
ON DUTY TO PARENTS. * 71 
 
 sary pain ; — when these feelings rush upon us, it too often 
 happens that all reparation is impossible ; they are gone, the 
 grave hides them, and all that remains of father and of 
 mother are the dust and the ashes of their tombs. In all 
 other injuries the chance of repairing them may endure as 
 long as life itself, but it is the ordinary course of nature that 
 the parent should perish before the child ; and it is the ordi- 
 nary course of nature also, that repentance should be most 
 bitter when it is the most inefTectual. 
 
 This commandment to honour parents may, in fact, be 
 rendered subservient to every virtue, and may be obeyed as 
 the mean of enforcing every law of the Gospel, — honour your 
 father and your mother; honour them with your lives, by 
 your spotless integrity, by keeping yourselves void of offence 
 towards God and man. If revenge prompts you to break 
 through human laws, and makes you prodigal of life, forgive, 
 for the love of your parents ; — If indolence and sloth avert 
 you from honourable competition, rouse yourself, that the 
 praises which men bestow upon you, may warm the hearts 
 of your parents ; — whenever you are about to do anything 
 that is wrong, remember there are a father and a mother 
 whose hearts you will tear with anguish ; — have pity upon 
 them, and bear them in mind in all you do; if you are disho- 
 nourable, they cannot be honoured ; if you are in wretchedness, 
 they cannot rejoice ; — they will burn with your glory ; they 
 will blush with your shame ; — they have smiled upon your 
 cradle, they will weep on your tomb. 
 
 In fine, to fulfil this great duly is an act of rehgion, as it 
 is one of the commandments of Almighty God. It is a duty 
 most creditable to the heart of him who fulfils it, because it 
 is an obscure duty, and one of long continuance ; yet it is 
 base to say, I have forgotten the wants and miseries of my 
 childhood, and, because I am now strong, I will not remem- 
 ber that I was ever weak ; — it is cruel to laugh at that wis- 
 dom, in its decay, which has guided us in its perfection ; — 
 though his tongue falter, and though he is bowed down, he 
 is still thy father; — forsake him not, but comfort him as he 
 has comforted thee ; and if thy days are long in the land, at 
 the latest, and the last of those days, thou shalt feel that peace 
 which they only can feel who honour the authors of their 
 being and obey the commandments of their God. 
 
^ 
 
 SEEM ON X. 
 
 ON THE GOVERNMENT OF HEART. 
 
 His heart is established, he shall not be afraid. — Psalm cxii. verse 8. 
 
 The Psalmist, in stating the happiness of a righteous man, 
 comes, at last, to that essential part of it, the government of 
 the heart ; and, impressed with the security which such a 
 state of thoughts and feelings must afford, says, his heart is 
 established, he shall not be afraid. 
 
 The Psalmist means, I should suppose, by this establish- 
 ment of heart, an habitual regulation of passions, opinions and 
 imagination ; — a suspicious examination, not of our actions, 
 but of the motives of our actions ; and such a government of 
 the thoughts as is most likely to conduce to a moral and 
 religious life. 
 
 I shall, therefore, endeavour to enforce such valuable doc- 
 trine, and to unfold the principles on which it is founded. 
 
 The intimate connection between our ideas and our actions, 
 is such, that, as often as the moment comes for doing, or for 
 abstaining, every previous thought which has been harboured 
 in the understanding rushes in, and exercises a share of in- 
 fluence in the decision. — The pleasing pictures of sin we 
 have drawn, in the absence of temptation, dazzle us, in its 
 presence, with a more brilliant colouring, become more vivid, 
 more artful, and more resistless ; when the moment arrives 
 for actual gratification, we do not forget the gratification we 
 have enjoyed, by anticipation, when conscience should rise 
 up in all its terrors ; we cannot exclude from our minds all 
 the previous sophistry with which it has been disarmed, 
 when the terror of God should alarm us ; by this vicious 
 indulgence of our thoughts we have lessened our sense of 
 his vigilance, buoyed up our spirits with the fallacious pro- 
 mise of future repentance, or cast from us, altogether, the 
 
ON THE GOVERNMENT OF THE HEART. 73 
 
 shackles and bondage of religion. It is no wonder that men 
 should so often yield to temptation, when they trust to the 
 casual virtue of the moment, and bring to the contest feelings 
 which have never been subjected to a single instant of dis- 
 cipline and control : — When they abolish every outpost, 
 rase every advanced defence, and trust everything to the 
 strength of the inward fortress alone. Virtue under such a 
 system as this, is not only difficult, it is almost impossible ; — 
 it is the result of accident, depending upon circumstances, 
 which he, whom they influence, can neither explain nor 
 command ; it is not that virtue which flows from a trained 
 and disciplined heart, the effects of which are uniform ; and, 
 as far as we may say so of what belongs to our fallen nature, 
 certain. To make virtue easy, we must lay the foundations 
 of it in thought ; when the temptation is not present, it is 
 easy to find reasonings against it ; — and, when it is at hand, 
 there are, then, many confirmed opinions and inveterate 
 aversions to guard us from its influence : he who has cau- 
 tiously excluded from his mind pictures of vicious gratifica- 
 tion, and considered a bad life rather with respect to the 
 permanent evil it inflicts than the transient pleasure it affords, 
 will be more likely to see, in real vice, horror than allure- 
 ment ; — he will dwell rather on the rewards than the diffi- 
 culties of virtue ; if he has spurned, even in thought, that 
 worldly good which is purchased by sin, he will, in action, 
 trample it beneath his feet ; — if he has enjoyed in fancy the 
 sweet security of an irreproachable life, he will not yield it 
 up to the gold of Ophir ; if he has taught himself to shudder 
 at the thought, even of disguised crimes, he will throw open 
 the gates of his soul, and defy the keenest inquisition of the 
 human race ; his deeds will be pure as the heavens, lofty as 
 the hills, and clear as the light. On the contrary, most men 
 give the full rein to their thoughts ; and, as long as they 
 abstain from the action, liberally indulge in the notion ; they 
 never think of stopping till they have inflamed themselves 
 with every possible incentive to advance ; or, of abstaining 
 till their appetite is sharpened to the keenest edge ; they 
 make a perpetual variance between deeds and desires, 
 aggravate the horror of what must be done, and magnify the 
 importance of what cannot be obtained ; and this, not to 
 increase, but to diminish the evils of life ; it is done to in- 
 demnify ourselves by the luxurious enjoyments of the 
 imagination, for the obstacles opposed to our pleasures, as 
 
f.^ ON THE GOVERNMENT OF THE HEARTi 
 
 if those obstacles which cannot, and which ought not, to be 
 overcome, are not much more intolerable, from their imaginary- 
 removal, than they would be from a cheerful acquiescence in 
 the purposes for which they were created ; and submission 
 to the wisdom which gave them birth. 
 
 There seems to be, in the apprehension of some men, a 
 sort of cruelty, in extending the empire of religion over the 
 thoughts ; — it wears the appearance of vexatious inquisition, 
 which disturbs harmless enjoyment, and punishes the ap- 
 pearance of happiness wherever it can be discovered : the 
 fact is so much the reverse, that if the idea of duty is to be 
 admitted at all ; if the Gospel of Christ is to establish a bad, 
 and a good, in human actions ; it could have suggested no 
 other method so effectual to enforce obedience to its precepts, 
 as the government of the thoughts ; because it employs the 
 power of virtue, at a time when opposition to vice is not 
 arduous, or difficult ; when temptation is without form, and 
 void ; before the dangerous eloquence of the senses has 
 roused the bad passions : instead of creating an additional 
 call upon the energy and labour of man, it fixes upon him a 
 much lighter burthen, and binds him to a much easier yoke ; 
 it opposes him not to vivid perceptions, but to faint anticipa- 
 tions ; it arrays him not against the real presence, but the 
 ghost and shadow of sin ; while it gives to virtue inward 
 peace and outward respect : softening its privations, diminish- 
 ing its suffering ; and forgetting its toils. — Such are the results 
 of that discipline which we deem oppressive tyranny over the 
 thoughts ; such are the salutary pictures which our natural 
 love of virtue, sheltered from actual temptation, will soon 
 enable us to draw. 
 
 Neither can this discipline of the thoughts be regarded with 
 any colour of justice, as trivial, or inadequate to the efforts 
 which has produced it ; for I am not contending, that it is an 
 useful discipline ; but that it is an indispensable discipline ; 
 not that it is an auxiliary to the highest virtues ; but a 
 necessary foundation for the lowest and the least: it is not 
 possible that that man should walk outwardly in the law of 
 God, who is for ever feeding in imagination upon the pleasures 
 of sin. — The passions will at last act ; the seed will break 
 through the incumbent obstacle ; the vice, which has been so 
 often pictured, (because to draw such pictures is considered 
 as compatible with innocence,) will be imitated to the life with 
 fatal and unerring precision. 
 
<m THIS GOVERNMENT OF THE HEAffT: it 
 
 Having thus touched upon the necessity of governing- the 
 heart, and handled a few superficial prejudices, which may- 
 render us less willing to submit to this invaluable discipline, 
 I shall endeavour, with God's help, to lay down a few rules 
 for its more easy attainment. 
 
 There is an old apophthegm, which says, reverence thyself, 
 and in this saying, much sound wisdom is locked up. If we 
 had half the reverence for ourselves that we have for the 
 world, how upright and how pure would our conduct be ; 
 we should carry about with us an inward judge, whose 
 vigilance we should fear ; whose justice we should respect ; 
 and whose praise we should love ; an awful judge ; the man 
 within the breast ; whose tribunal would extend over the 
 motives of actions, who would approve virtue, while it yet 
 only glowed in the thoughts, and discover crime in the secret 
 workings of the soul ; — this principle of self-love would effec- 
 tually banish from our minds every vicious indulgence of 
 thought ; and every low, ignominious feeling ; we should no 
 longer wear virtue as a mask, but all that we do now from 
 conformity, and the fear of shame, we should do then from 
 rooted principle, and passionate love of God. 
 
 Secondly, the heart is estabhshedby prayer because prayer 
 recalls to us the mercy of God for our love, his justice for our 
 terror, and his perfections for our imitation ; it reminds us of 
 the frailty of man, and makes us rationally suspicious of our- 
 selves ; — it brings before us the crucified Saviour of mankind, 
 and in his image, personifies every virtue ; — it turns our 
 thoughts from men to angels ; from frailty to perfection ; from 
 a few evil days to an happy eternity ; from a jumble of sighs 
 and joys, to a gladness that endureth for ever. 
 
 Again the heart is governed, by impressing on our recol- 
 lection the intimate connection between thought and action ; 
 and by making the propriety of the one the test of propriety 
 in the other ; if it is wrong to gratify revenge, it is wrong to 
 dwell on it in imagination ; if it is our duty to forgive out- 
 wardly, it is our duty to forgive from our inward hearts ; if 
 we are to withstand the allurements of pleasure, we must not 
 contemplate them ;— -if we are to support painful duties, we 
 must not magnify them in our thoughts ; — whatever we are 
 forbidden to do, we are forbidden to think ; whatever we are 
 commanded to perform, we are commanded to love : there 
 must be no discordance between the inward and the outward 
 
7d ON THE GOVERNMENT OF THE HEART# 
 
 man ; thought, word and deed must be constantly and closely 
 united together ; there are, indeed, a purity in this doctrine, 
 and a wisdom, which give to the Gospel one cause of its 
 superiority over the spurious religions which are so widely 
 diffused over the world, that, whereas they look wholly to 
 the mere overt act, like an human law, Christianity com- 
 mences its empire from the first dawn of thought ; and, by 
 influencing the causes of actions, makes virtue more easy 
 and more permanent. 
 
 The heart is governed by tracing up our pains and plea- 
 sures to their source; whenever we enjoy any pleasure 
 unalloyed by dissatisfaction, it will be found, almost always, 
 to proceed from the performance of duty, as our miseries 
 will from the neglect of it ; and the repetition of this exercise 
 will insensibly impress upon our minds, the inseparable con- 
 nection between virtue and happiness : there is nothing, for 
 instance, so likely to cure us of selfishness, as the gloom and 
 uneasiness with which it never fails to be attended, or so 
 likely to reconcile us to the immediate efforts of the social 
 virtues, as the cheerfulness and interest in common life 
 which they always communicate to their possessor: when 
 we have traced up lassitude and remorse to the waste of 
 time, we shall employ it with more economy and vigour : 
 when we have discovered that we pay in languor of body 
 and loss of reputation for the pleasures of excess, we shall 
 be gradually reconciled to moderation ; when we have found 
 out in the heart, the springs of joy and pain, we shall learn 
 to keep them aright. 
 
 A steady employment of time, and a vigorous exercise of. 
 the intellectual faculties, are no mean auxiliaries to the gov- 
 ernment of the heart ; for our minds, made to overcome diffi- 
 culties, either lose their powers entirely when they are with- 
 out an object, or turn those powers inwardly to consume 
 themselves : It is clear, that we have no power to summon 
 up particular ideas at pleasure ; and it is equally clear, if we 
 cannot summon them up, their occurrence is involuntary, 
 and free from guilt ; but when ideas are present, it is in our 
 power to decide whether we will dwell upon and expand 
 them ; whether we will summon up every notion to which 
 they happen to be related, or whether we will oppose the 
 power of Satan, and resist the peril of unhallowed images : 
 hence, the use of intellectual exertion and previous habits of 
 labour in the government of the heart, that we are no longer 
 
ON THE GOVERNMENT OF THE HEART. TlT 
 
 at the mercy of every dangerous fancy, and every wanton 
 image penciled by the passions ; we can fix our eyes steadily 
 upon intellectual objects, and find in the cultivation of our 
 understandings the noblest security for the innocence of our 
 lives. The greater part of our wretchedness, real and chi- 
 merical, of our vices, and of the mistaken views we are so 
 unfortunately apt to take of human life, proceed from the 
 want of something to do ; think we must, and if not of that 
 which is ornamental, or useful, certainly, of that which is 
 pernicious ; and let it never be forgotten, that as often as we 
 give ourselves up to the dominion of vicious thoughts, there 
 is never wanting an abundance of ingenious words, which 
 consult the delicacy of a bashful sinner, and veil the deform-^ 
 ity of vice. A weariness of the decent restrictions hnposed 
 by society, is warmth of heart and liberality of sentiment ; 
 whatever is licentious is romantic ; whatever is base, is pru- 
 dent ; extravagance is generosity ; contempt of public virtue, 
 practical good sense ; and ignorant skepticism, enlightened 
 superiority to prejudice. » 
 
 The important practice I am endeavouring to inculcate,^, 
 will be powerfully promoted, by cherishing a love of open- ' 
 ness and a detestation of hypocrisy ; by living as it were in 
 public ; by scorning to maintain one character before the 
 world, and another in the secret places of the heart ;— -if this 
 slavery of the mind, this necessity of fearing and hiding our- 
 selves from our fellow-creatures, were painted in glowing- 
 colours to the free and noble feelings of youth, it would have 
 no small tendency to encourage purity of thought; and would 
 convert the proud defiance, natural to that time of life, to the 
 wisest of all purposes."— To feel for the judgment of the world 
 unfeigned respect, is the property of a wise man; but to 
 know that any human being may, eventually, have it in his 
 power to treat us with merited contempt and infamy, and 
 that we owe our reputation only to the ignorance of those 
 with whom we are in repute, is a feeling which can never 
 exist long in the mind of him who has listened to the advice 
 of my text, and laboured earnestly that his heart should be 
 established aright. 
 
 There is, above all, for the obtaining of this habit, an awful 
 sense of the ever-during presence of God, and a dread of lay- 
 ing open, to his pure spirit, a carnal and voluptuous soul: — 
 The same God, who dwelleth above, hath his ways upon 
 earth ; he numbers the sanctities of Heaven, and knoweth 
 
 7* 
 
T8r ON THE GOVERNMENT OF THE HEART. 
 
 the thoughts of man ; he searches where the planets wander ; ^ 
 and walketh in the paths of the mind. Remember, also, the 
 pure severity of the Gospel, which punishes the adultery of 
 the heart ; which resents the malice of the thoughts ; and 
 ordains that words of pardon and of peace should come from 
 the very springs of the heart. If we can refrain from real 
 vice, we will not lose the reward of our firmness by the poor 
 •enjoyments of imaginary gratification ; if we have overcome 
 the greater difficulty, we will not yield to the less ; if the 
 terrors of an hereafter have made our lives pure, we will not 
 perish because our thoughts are evil, 
 
 I have thus endeavoured to impress upon you the import- 
 ance of estabhshing the heart, as it renders righteousness 
 more secure, and more easy ; those who have ever practised 
 this truly Christian disciphne, can need no other incentive to 
 its continuation than the immediate pleasure they have de- 
 rived from it ; and that feeling of inviolable security which 
 must ever be the lot of those in whom outward and visible 
 virtue is the accurate sign of inward and spiritual purity. 
 If, by a vigorous exertion of our own powers, and by earnest 
 prayer to God, we can guard from pollution this fountain of 
 evil and of good, we have httle to fear from all which the 
 world can inflict ; and at the moment when this mortal body 
 is crumbHng into dust, the heart, estabhshed in upright 
 thoughts, shall animate the dying Christian, and strengthen 
 his faith in the mercies of his God. 
 
 ■m^^0i^jmm 
 
SERMON XL 
 
 ON GOOD FRIDAY 
 
 And Jesus J crying with a loud voice, gave up the ghost. — St. Matthew 
 XV. VERSE 37. 
 
 The last scenes of our Saviour's life, and the particular 
 circumstances of his death, are fit subjects for examination, 
 either as they afford an additional example of the truth of the 
 Christian religion, or a practical example of morality. Whe- 
 ther we would learn how persecution is to be endured, and 
 death and adversity supported ; or would try, by the events 
 of so critical a period, the authenticity of our Saviour's mis- 
 sion, this part of the Gospel history ought powerfully to arrest 
 and deeply to engage our attention. 
 
 To try the character of the founder of our religion by the 
 last scenes of his life, is to subject it to the most candid of 
 all tests ; for if there had been fanaticism, it is probable, and 
 conformable to experience, that the approach of death would 
 have lowered that fanaticism to abject fear, or exalted it to 
 high passion; if there had been imposture, it is probable 
 that the love of life and hope of impunity would have pro- 
 duced either a full confession of the artifice, or those signs 
 of fluctuation and doubt which a bad man is so apt to display 
 when his life depends upon the success of his falsehood. If, 
 on the contrary, the last scenes of that life display mildness, 
 simplicity, firmness and majesty ; if they harmonize with 
 every other period of his existence, they sanction our belief 
 in the divinity of Christ, and they deserve our imitation, our 
 wonder and our love. 
 
 There is, in the death of Christ, as there was in his life, 
 perfect simplicity ; no scenical effect, no expression of tumul- 
 
80 ON GOOD FRIDAY. 
 
 tuous feeling, no swelling words and sentiments ; no desire 
 to excite compassion in those who witnessed his sufferings. 
 The life of our Saviour is great, because it has no scenes of 
 vulgar glory; because he endured much for an high object; 
 and loved truth and virtue so well that when their interests 
 were concerned, he felt no pain and feared no evil ; — and his 
 death is great, because he died simply, Hfted up by a great 
 purpose above fortune and the world. The death-bed of 
 men who have acted a conspicuous part in the world, is 
 sometimes a scene of vanity, rather than a scene of piety ; 
 they have lived, not for God and for duty, but for opinion ; 
 and they summon up the remnants of strength to astonish the 
 beholders, and to give the last brilliant colour to their glory ; 
 but Jesus Christ died with a few words, and, to appearance, 
 forgetful of himself; remembering only what he had done for 
 others '.—for this cause came I into the world, to bear wit- 
 ness of the truth, 
 
 ' The conduct of our Saviour towards Peter, whose apostasy 
 he had foretold, is characteristic of majestic simplicity, — when 
 Peter had denied him thrice, the Lord turned and looked 
 upon Peter, and Peter went out and wept bitterly. If that 
 look taught Peter to repent, it may teach us to believe : the 
 fraud and the folly which we witness, have no such singleness 
 of heart and such plain majesty of action ; whenever we behold 
 such signs as these, we hail them as the shepherds did the 
 star in the East ; they are the marks which God has put upon 
 truth and good faith ; premeditated sophistry may destroy 
 the first burst of nature, but in reading the history of Christ's 
 death, the fresh and sudden feelings of the heart, all acquit 
 him, all praise him, all believe in him ; — we all feel as Pon- 
 tius Pilate, his judge, felt, who, when he had looked at him, 
 and heard him speak, broke from the judgment seat, and 
 bathed his trembling hands in the water, saying, " I call you 
 all to witness, I ani guiltless of the blood of this innocent 
 man." 
 
 In the trial and death of Christ there was no symptom of 
 fear; he encountered all his miseries with decent, yet un- 
 yielding courage ; nor did he evince the smallest disposition 
 to recede from those high pretensions which he had advanced, 
 or disown that awful character which he had supported. 
 When the multitude came out to seize Jesus of Nazareth, he 
 said, "I am he!" When the high priest asked him of his 
 disciples and his doctrines, "Why askest thou me? (is his 
 
ON GOOD FRIDAY. 81 
 
 reply.) I spake openly to the world ; I have ever taught in 
 the synagogue, and the temple where the Jews resort, and 
 in secret have I said nothing ; why askest thou me ? Ask 
 them which heard me what I said unto them ; behold they 
 know what I said." Then comes that memorable answer, 
 which was the immediate cause of his condemnation. "I 
 adjure thee (says the high priest) tell me if thou art the 
 Christ, the son of the blessed ?" And Jesus answered, " thou 
 hast said it. I am the Son of God ; hereafter thou shalt see 
 me sitting on the right hand of power, and coming in the 
 clouds of Heaven." Thus far, then, there are identity and 
 consistency in the character of our Saviour; deserted and 
 disowned by his followers ; buffeted, smitten, and mocked, 
 by an angry multitude ; judged by enemies ; at the eve of 
 death he said all that he had said before, when the multitude 
 strewed branches in his road, and cried, " Hosanna to the 
 highest." The Gospel has all that corroboration which it can 
 possibly receive from uniformity of character in its founder, 
 — a character, after the intense hght thrown upon it, by adver- 
 sity and prosperity found to be without blemish or spot. Such 
 evidence, though not of itself conclusive, assists the stronger 
 proofs of the Gospel, and spreads upon its minutest parts the 
 genuine colour of truth. And this is the peculiar import- 
 ance of that species of death which our Saviour died, that it 
 leaves nothing to conjecture ; that it develops fully his sacred 
 character; and displays him in every variety of difficult 
 situation. Without the test of a persecuting death, something 
 would have been wanting to the proof; for death must 
 surely be considered as the strongest of all proofs, and the 
 most certain of all tests ; — he who dies for calling himself the 
 Son of God, must, at least, believe himself to be so ; it is 
 impossible to add anything to this evidence of internal con- 
 viction; and, had it been wanting to the history of Chris- 
 tianity, the whole argument, on which the sacred cause 
 depends, would have been much less complete than it now 
 is; but that which St. Paul tells us was to the Jews folly, 
 and to the Greeks a stumbling block, is, to us, the strongest 
 and most irresistible lesson of the true glory and greatness of 
 the founder of our religion. 
 
 We must observe, in speaking of our Saviour's firmness, 
 that it was the firmness of reason, not of passion ; there was 
 nothing in it which could in the remotest degree evince 
 an heated and disordered imagination ; nothing was ever so 
 
82 ON GOOD FRIDAY* 
 
 far removed from enthusiasm ; he was mute under the crown 
 and the robe, and reviled not again when he was reviled ; he 
 bore every species of indignity with calm resignation, and 
 died meekly and mutely as a victim. Those upon whom 
 such facts make no impression, must believe, that an human 
 being of the calmest passions and the simplest mind, im- 
 agined himself to be the Son of God ; that, in consequence of 
 this madness, he preached the purest virtue and the soundest 
 reason ; that he lived in wretchedness for that doctrine and 
 that character ; then died for them, in the flower of his age, 
 not only without the smallest symptom of fear, or of enthu- 
 siasm, but with the cool display of every great quality; I will 
 not say such a fact is impossible, but I may say it is contrary 
 to all human experience. Imposture and enthusiasm have 
 never come down in such a shape to us ; such opinions may 
 suit those who believe greater improbabilities than they refute; 
 but no sound judge of the human mind will adopt them, and 
 no fair reasoner advance them. 
 
 Another proof of the excellence of our Saviour's death and 
 of its consistency with his former history, is the tender and 
 forgiving disposition which it uniformly evinces. His first 
 prayer to Heaven is, that his murderers may be forgiven : — 
 " Father, forgive them, they know not what they do." While 
 he is on the cross, and in the agonies of a painful death, he 
 sees his mother and his favourite disciple, — " When Jesus, 
 therefore, saw his mother, and the disciple whom he loved, he 
 said unto his mother, woman, behold thy son ! And to the 
 disciple, behold thy mother ! And from that hour the disci- 
 ple took her unto his own home." Thus it was that this 
 great character preserved, to the last, that mild virtue and 
 those goo^ feelings which his precepts taught, and all his 
 previous actions confirmed ; the spirit of heavenly charity 
 triumphed over the grave ; the disciple whom he loved, and 
 the mother who bare him, were dear to him even upon the 
 cross ; and, while they are weeping at his feet, his last 
 accents lighten their misery, and bind them for ever in that 
 lasting friendship which flows from a common grief. Let us 
 remember, in thinking of his dying charity, that he has com- 
 mended to us not only son, and mother, and father, but all the 
 children of the Gospel to all time ; that he requires of us to 
 perform acts of charity and kindness ; to offer up those pas- 
 sions which are destructive of human happiness ; and to 
 learn from his death to be purer, and kinder, and better men., 
 
ON GOOD FRIDAY. 63 
 
 Having thus performed the last offices which remained to 
 be discharged, the world and its cares are no more to him ; 
 his earthly career is finished ; he bowed his head, and, crying 
 with a loud voice, gave up the ghost. Thus died that great 
 being whose life was one uniform tenour of just doctrines and 
 compassionate actions ; who laboured to soften, to unite and 
 to purify mankind; in whose existence there is not a word, nor 
 a deed, which had not our happiness for its object and its 
 end. Truly, there is something in Christ's history which 
 paints him to our eyes as the most venerable, the most simple 
 and the most holy of beings. The keenest malice, and the 
 sharpest inquisition, cannot fix upon him the shadow of error, 
 or of crime ; he preached doctrines for which he led a life of 
 persecution : and died a death of pain. Did he not, then, 
 believe in these doctrines himself ? But he was an enthusiast I 
 Never, then, was enthusiasm so mild, so gentle, so moderate, 
 and so intelligible ; — do you unto others as you would they 
 should do unto you ; let all your words be yea, and nay; — 
 pray to God, not before men, but in secret; give alms of all 
 thou hast to the poor ; purify the inward heart ; and expect 
 reward of God, as you are good to your fellow-creatures. If 
 this is enthusiasm, what then is simple, what clear, what 
 practical, and what wise ? Unquestionably, no one who has 
 ever attempted to legislate for mankind has involved his doc- 
 trine less in florid description and ambiguous subhmity; has 
 calculated his precepts so directly for practice, or addressed 
 himself so uniformly to the common feelings and common 
 sense of his followers. — Nor did our Saviour seek, by the arts 
 of insinuation, to lead before him a deluded multitude ; he 
 ministered to no man's passion; and he flattered no man's pride; 
 he taught not like the Scribes and Pharisees, but as one hav- 
 ing authority; — his resistance to the ruling powers was as far 
 removed from intemperate violence as his demeanour to the 
 people was from seductive artifice : — to be brief, there is not 
 in the character of Christ one trait of mortality; nothing 
 which, for an instant, bespeaks him allied to the infirmities of 
 man ; no change, no guile, no conflict of passion, no wavering 
 of heart, no pride of spirit ; without thought for himself, with- 
 out love of command, a man of sorrow, rejected and despised; 
 who bore in his bosom the rebukes of many people and moved 
 silently on in the paths of afliiction ; healing and comforting 
 mankind ; and laying the foundations of that blessed religion 
 the voice of which has gone out into all lands and called man 
 
 )-■ 
 
84 ON GOOD FRIDAY. 
 
 from the alternate slumber and fury of his savage life to the 
 sweets and glories of industry and peace. 
 
 So Hved Jesus, the Son of God; and how he was loved, and 
 honoured in his death, we all know : Every passer by smote 
 his breast ; the daughters of Jerusalem followed him weeping; 
 Judas flung down the thirty pieces of silver ; Pilate said, I am 
 guiltless of his blood ; the thief saw he was a God ; the cen- 
 turion believed and trembled ; the veil of the temple was rent; 
 darkness was over the earth ; the graves were open ; and 
 many sleeping bodies of the saints came up to the world : — 
 these are the miracles which carried conviction to the hearts 
 of his persecutors and murderers : if we can study in vain the 
 morals of his hfe, we must yield, at least, to the miracles of 
 his death : and exclaim, with the trembhng centurion, " of a 
 truth this was the Son of God," 
 
 
'«r:^:.fkaK. 
 
 
 SERMON XII. 
 
 ON THE JUDGMENTS WE FORM OF 
 OTHERS, 
 
 In righteousness shall thou judge thy neighbour.— Leviticus xix. verse 15. 
 
 Though this sentiment has been repeatedly confirmed by 
 our Saviour himself; and though it continually pervades the 
 writings of Saint Paul and the apostles ; I have chosen to 
 quote it from the Jewish Scriptures, to show, that it was an 
 ancient law among men, arising from good feeling, sanctioned 
 by long practice, and, therefore, from its direct bearing upon 
 human happiness, incorporated into Christian morals. 
 
 In righteousness shalt thou judge thy neighbour ; the first 
 branch of which righteous judgment is, to cultivate a pre- 
 disposition to mercy ; to hear bad motives imputed to others, 
 with an earnest desire that they may prove to be exaggerated, 
 or untrue ; and to discipline the mind in such a manner, that 
 its habitual feeling, on hearing of the faults of others, should 
 be that of unfeigned sorrow. Modern manners have adopted 
 a certain language of virtuous sympathy, which passes, not 
 unfrequently, with ourselves and others, for the excellence 
 itself ; — if all, then, who wish to appear good, counterfeit a 
 compassion for the faults of others, all who wish to be good, 
 should really cherish and promote the feeling. — Manners are 
 the shadows of virtues ; the momentary display of those quali- 
 ties which our fellow-creatures love and respect. — If we 
 strive to become, then, what we strive to appear, manners 
 may often be rendered useful guides to the performance of 
 our duties. 
 
 The habit we have of comparing ourselves with others, is 
 that principle of our nature which prevents us from feeling 
 as much compassion as we ought for the infirmities of the 
 8 
 
86 ON THE JUDGMENTS WE FORM OF OTHERS. 
 
 rest of mankind ; we cannot hear a bad action imputed to any- 
 one without congratulating ourselves that we have not been 
 guilty of it, and enjoying a momentary superiority that our 
 fortune has been more perfect, our wisdom more penetrating, 
 and our virtue more firm: — this is not what Christianity 
 teaches ; it teaches us to listen, with trembling humihty, to 
 every example of error, or of crime ; to reflect, at such sea- 
 sons, upon the frail nature of man; to receive, with serious 
 pity, every fresh example of misguided reason and triumph- 
 ant passion ; to remember, that to-morrow may bring some 
 difficulty which we cannot vanquish ; some temptation which 
 we cannot resist ;'^and that we ourselves may then be suing 
 for that indulgence which to-day we so arrogantly refuse to 
 others. 
 
 To judge our neighbour in righteousness, it is our duty to 
 consider those motives which may corrupt our judgment : 
 when we set ourselves to reflect how far we have cultivated 
 this species of justice, Ave deceive ourselves, by quoting the 
 examples of those who have become dear to us from particu- 
 lar circumstances ; by citing the judgments we have made of 
 friends, of kindred, of men, who have embarked with us in 
 common designs ; have been engaged in the same pursuit; and 
 been actuated by the same principles : doubtless we are just 
 enough in all these instances ; here we feel real sorrow at 
 the faults of others, and do all, and even more than the most 
 righteous judges ought to do: but if we really and faithfully 
 wish to fulfil this great duty, we are to examine how far we 
 have righteously judged those to whom we have never been 
 connected in friendship ; those whom chance has separated 
 from us by rank and wealth ; nature by talents ; education by 
 opinions; those who have been opposed to us in questions which 
 try the passions : those from whom we have suffered disre- 
 spect, injury and contempt. If, in the awful moments of 
 self-judgment, we can satisfy ourselves that we never wished 
 that calumny to be true which accorded with our warmest 
 passions ; that we have never been disappointed by that in- 
 nocence which baffled our resentment, that the infirmities of 
 our nature have rarely stifled this tenderness for the good 
 fame of others ; then, and not till then, are we entitled to con- 
 ceive that we have obeyed this precept of the Scriptures, and 
 judged our fellow-creatures in righteousness. 
 
 It is from inattention to the motives which may corrupt our 
 judgments, that the art of differing in opinion upon important 
 
ON THE jrDGMENTS WE FORM OF OTHERS. 87 
 
 subjects is so little understood, or, if understood, is so imperfectly- 
 exercised ; — a part of conduct, however, in which all the best 
 feelings of a Christian may be called into action, and upon the 
 proper exercise of which the happiness of society intimately de- 
 pends. To look upon mankind, collected either into greater or 
 lesser numbers, as members either of kingdoms, or cities, we 
 are delighted with that social combination, that unity of view 
 and interests, which appears among them ; it is only from a 
 more intimate view of their condition that we perceive those 
 interior societies separated from each other by insuperable 
 aversion, and waging the most furious and implacable war of 
 opinion ; — to see men of acknowledged worth and talents 
 totally blind to each other's perfections, furiously ascribing to 
 each other the most improbable depravity, and shunning each 
 other Avith the most marked detestation, is, to him who has 
 kept his passions cool and unbiased, a lesson upon the in- 
 firmities of our nature not easily to be forgotten : differ we 
 must, and upon the most serious topics ; but the law of Christ 
 is not a set of words always in our mouths, but a rule to be 
 never absent from our hearts. What is the meaning of being 
 a Christian, if it is not to carry into all these differences a 
 candid, liberal and forgiving spirit ? to exhibit towards every 
 opponent the purest and most impartial justice ? to debar 
 ourselves of the unworthy resource of imputing bad motives, 
 but upon the most unq^uestionable evidence ? to exercise our 
 own right of deciding, without denying that right of others ? 
 and, while we obey the result of our own dehbe rations, to re- 
 member it is not impossible that we may have mistaken, ex- 
 ceeded, or distorted the truth ? 
 
 To judge our neighbour righteously, we should remember 
 that, in many instances, a fault once committed may be atoned 
 for ; and, that an imputation once true is not always true : we 
 do not derive that useful lesson which we might derive from 
 the consciousness of our own infirmities. If there are very 
 few, even of the best and most approved among us, who 
 would dare to lay open the secret history of thought, word 
 and deed, from infancy to this hour ; if many are conscious of 
 secret sin, many of those numerous perils on which their 
 virtue has been nearly wrecked ; if they are sensible, as they 
 must be, how often they have been indebted to accident, 
 rather than wisdom for escape; how powerfully do all these 
 considerations inculcate upon our minds precepts of tender- 
 ness and mercy for the infirmities of our nature ? not that 
 
88 ON THE JUDGMENTS WE FORM OF OTHERS. 
 
 crimes should be sheltered from evil report ; but that, when 
 they are not of too deep a dye, they should be forgotten. 
 The faults of youth ought not to follow the same being through 
 every stage of his existence ; — there is no cruelty so great as 
 to keep the fallen man for ever in the dust ; and to blast his 
 reviving hopes with the malicious memory of past miscon- 
 duct ; but the misfortune is, we want the vices of others to 
 keep up our own halting virtue ; and we cannot afford to lose 
 them ; a good man is ever looking inward to the bright image 
 he has formed of Christian purity, while it is the genuine habit 
 of baseness to found reputation upon the imperfections of 
 others, and of suspected virtue, ferociously to insult its own 
 vices, in the lives and conduct of the rest of the world. 
 
 Whatever be our opinion of the guilt of others, it is not 
 always necessary to propagate and diffuse it ; — in the admin- 
 istration of public justice, punishment is separated from accu- 
 sation : but at the tribunal of the world they are often the 
 same things. If men were as ready to investigate calumny 
 as they are to receive it, the evils of its diffusion would be 
 much less ; but the disease travels faster than the remedy 
 can follow ; to give credit to defamation, though neither the 
 generous nor the just is considered as the safe side, and 
 many receive the accusation, who are too careless to listen to 
 the defence, or too timid to admit it. 
 
 To promote the righteous judgment of our neighbour, it is 
 our duty to defend him where we can do so with any colour 
 of justice; — this we are frequently prevented from doing, 
 because it is unpopular ; it checks a source of amusement from 
 which we are all apt, at times, to derive but too much plea- 
 sure ; it recalls those who hear us from a state of mirth, and 
 compels them to hsten to the dry, unamusing suggestions of 
 justice. But this temporary displeasure it is our duty to 
 incur, from the most exalted motives of Christian duty: — to 
 consider the real degree of credibility due to evil report ; the 
 temptations to misrepresentation ; and the chances for mis- 
 take ; — to take the fact with all its favourable colours and 
 extenuating circumstances; to wait for the answer of the 
 accused party ; to insist upon all the good which we have 
 previously known of him ; all this is in the power of the most 
 inconsiderable being among us ; and if there can be a proof 
 of a truly good, a truly noble, and a truly Christian disposi- 
 tion, this it is. While others listen eagerly to the narrrative 
 of folly and of crime, and every one secretly exults and says, 
 
ON THE JUDGMENTS WE FORM OF OTHERS. 89" 
 
 thank God, I am not as this man is ; — forget not thou thy 
 absent brother, and, in the midst of his enemies, let thy voice 
 be heard for the defenceless man ; — look not for short-lived 
 favour, and the praise of a moment, by tramphng on him 
 who is already fallen ; but cherish a fixed concern for human 
 happiness : let your words and actions show that in your 
 eyes the absent are sacred ; and check, with serious benevo- 
 lence, that mirth which is cruel and unjust. — This it is to 
 look down upon the world from an eminence, to live upon 
 the grand, to act upon a noble and commanding scale, and 
 to lay deep the foundations of inward approbation and public 
 regard. 
 
 There are many, I believe, who are so far from listening 
 to the means by which this satisfaction at the misconduct of 
 others may be checked, that they are rather inclined to doubt 
 of the disorder than to adopt the remedy. It wounds our 
 pride as much to confess the fault, as it gratifies our pride to 
 practise it. No man chooses to avow that he wants the faults 
 of others as a foil to his own character ; no man has the 
 desperate candour to confess, that the comparison which he 
 draws between himself and his brother upon hearing of any 
 act of misconduct, is a source of pleasure ; and that, in such 
 cases, the feelings of self overcome the rules of the Gospel ; 
 if you ask any man such a question, he will say, that he 
 depends upon his own efforts, and not on the failure of 
 others ; he will contend that the errors of his fellow-crea- 
 tures are to him a source of serious concern ; he says so— 
 and he believes that he says the truth ; for no man knows 
 the secrets of his own heart ; but if it is true, why are the 
 wings of evil fame so swift and so unwearied ? Why is it 
 not as difficult to lose, as to gain, the commendations of man- 
 kind ? Why does it require a whole life to gain a character 
 which can be lost, and unjustly lost, in a single moment of 
 time ? It is because we are reluctant to exalt, and ever will- 
 ing to pull down ; because we love the fault better which 
 gives us an inferior, than the virtue which elevates an human 
 being above us. 
 
 I say these things not to offend, but to promote Christian 
 charity ; not to lower our ideas of human nature, but to recall 
 it to the purity and perfection of the Gospel ; and by these 
 means to adorn it, and to lift it up. The true way to rid our- 
 selves of these unworthy feelings, is to cultivate a general 
 love of happiness and of excellence ; to rejoice with the joy 
 
tk^ ON THE JUDGMENTS WE FORM OF OTHERS. 
 
 of Others ; to be glad that the heart of any human being is 
 made glad ; to be proud of every virtue built up with time 
 and toil and sound instruction ; to mourn when man forgets 
 his God ; and to feel that it is the common interest of our 
 nature to withstand the violence of passion ; and to extend 
 the dominion of true religion. 
 
 I have thus endeavoured to show in what righteous judg- 
 ment of our neighbour consists ; I have stated it to be our 
 duty to receive, with reluctance, the imputation of evil, to 
 guard against every impulse of prejudice or passion, which 
 may bias our judgment ; to defend our fellow-creatures, 
 where we can do so with justice ; and never to believe in 
 evil report but upon the most satisfactory evidence : I have 
 stated, that it is also our duty to suppose, that, in time, bad 
 qualities may be corrected, and serious faults atoned for ; to 
 receive, with pleasure, every symptom of amendment; and 
 lastly, whatever be the proof of guilt, to be slow and cau- 
 tious in bringing it forward to the knowledge of mankind. 
 
 Such is the manner in which I have attempted to explain 
 this Christian duty of judging our neighbour in righteous- 
 ness ; — allow me to conclude, by pressing earnestly upon 
 your attention this ancient and sublime law, which bears so 
 directly upon human happiness, and is so frequently and 
 powerfully sanctioned by the Gospel. To depreciate our 
 fellow-creatures may gratify pride by the comparative eleva- 
 tion of ourselves ; or minister to vanity by the display of 
 lively talents ; but the pleasure is soon gone, and the bitter- 
 ness remains ; — we feel that the purity of our own conduct 
 gives us no title to censure that of others ; we are conscious 
 of deserving the enmity of those who have been the objects 
 of our malice ; and we know that it is not approved even by 
 those who appear to derive from it the greatest amusement ; 
 but to conquer the love of transient applause, to condemn 
 reluctantly, and for the public good ; to defend and protect 
 with pleasure ; and though passion, pride and impunity 
 tempt, to preserve a scrupulous and awful justice in our 
 judgment of others, is to secure the purest and most perfect 
 of all pleasures, — self-approbation and respect. If you can 
 raise your mind to this elevation of virtue, mankind will 
 love and adore you ; every human being will feel his honour 
 and his good fame safe in your hands ; — and that Saviour 
 will heap blessings on your head, who has bid you judge in 
 mercy, and love your neighbour as yourself. 
 
-'^imfB^-^^m -^^ 
 
 SERMON XIII. 
 
 ON THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY 
 
 By the waters of Babylon, we sat down and wept, when we remembered 
 thee, Oh Sion ! — Psalm cxxxvii. verse 1. 
 
 This beautiful Psalm was written in commemoration of 
 the Babylonish captivity, written, if we may judge, from the 
 lively feelings it exhibits, soon after the period of that memo- 
 rable event ; and, in truth, it is not possible to read it without 
 emotion. It tells a tale of sorrow with that simple melancholy 
 which the heart can only feel, and the imagination never 
 counterfeit. They hung up their harps on the willow trees, 
 they could not sing the songs of their God, for they were in 
 captivity, and heaviness of spirit oppressed them; they thought 
 of their country, and sat down by the waters of Babylon to 
 weep. 
 
 Whence, it may be asked, does this love of our country, 
 this universal passion, proceed ? Why does the eye ever 
 dwell with fondness upon the scenes of infant life ? Why do 
 we breathe with greater joy the breath of our youth ? Why 
 are not other soils as grateful, and other heavens as gay ? 
 Why does the soul of man ever cling to that earth where it 
 first knew pleasure and pain, and, under the rough discipline 
 of the passions, was roused to the dignity of moral life ? Is it 
 only that our country contains our kindred and our friends ? 
 And is it nothing but a name for our social affections ? It 
 cannot be this ; the most friendless of human beings has a 
 country which he admires and extols, and which he would, 
 in the same circumstances, prefer to all others under heaven. 
 Tempt him with the fairest face of nature, place him by 
 living waters, under shadowy cedars of Lebanon ; open to his 
 view all the gorgeous allurements of the climates of the sun ; 
 
92 ON THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. 
 
 he will love the rocks and deserts of his childhood better than 
 all these, and thou canst not bribe his soul to forget the land 
 of his nativity ; he will sit down and weep by the waters of 
 Babylon, when he remembers thee. Oh Sion. 
 
 But whether from this love of our kindred, or from habit, 
 or from association, or from whatever more simple principle 
 of our nature this love of our country proceeds, it is of the 
 highest importance to society that its existence should be 
 cherished, and its energy directed aright ; if the duties which 
 regulate the conduct of man to man be lit subjects for dis- 
 cussion in this place, that virtue which is founded upon the 
 relation between societies and individuals, and includes the 
 important and extended interests of a whole people, must, in 
 preference to all others, merit discussion on my part, and 
 attention on yours. 
 
 An attempt is often made to distinguish between moral and 
 Christian subjects of investigation ; but no subject can be 
 moral which is not Christian. Christianity guides us to ano- 
 ther world, by showing us how to act in this ; in precepts 
 more, or less general, it enacts and limits every human duty; 
 the world is the theatre where we are to show whether we 
 are Christians in profession, or in deed; and there is no action 
 of our lives which concerns the interests of others, in which 
 we do not either violate or obey a Christian law ; I cannot, 
 therefore, illustrate a moral duty, without, at the same time, 
 enforcing a precept of our reHgion. 
 
 The love of our country has, in the late scenes acted in the 
 world, been so often made a pretext for bad ambition, and so 
 often given birth to crude and ignorant violence, that many 
 good men entertain no very great relish for the virtue, and 
 some are, in truth, tired and disgusted with the very name 
 of it ; but this mode of thinking, though very natural and 
 very common, is, above all others, that which goes to perpe- 
 tuate error in the world ; if good men are to cherish in secret 
 the idea, that any theory of duties to our country is romantic 
 and absurd, because bad men and foolish men have made it 
 an engine of crime, or found it a source of error ; if there is 
 to be this constant action and reaction between extreme 
 opinions ; the sentiments of mankind in eternal vibration be- 
 tween one error and another, can never rest upon the middle 
 point of truth. Let it be our pride to derive our principles, 
 not from times and circumstances, but from reason and 
 religion, and to struggle against that mixture of indolence 
 
ON THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. 9& 
 
 and virtue which condemns the use, because it will not dis- 
 criminate the abuse, which it abhors. In spite of the pros- 
 titution of this venerable name, there is, and there ever will 
 be, a Christian patriotism, a great system of duties which 
 man owes to the sum of human beings with whom he lives : 
 to deny it is folly ; to neglect it is crime. 
 
 The love of our country has been ridiculed by some modern 
 enthusiasts, as too narrow a field for the benevolence of an 
 enlightened mind ; they are for comprehending the whole 
 human race in our affections, and deem any partiality shown 
 to the particular country in which we happen to be born, as 
 a narrow and unphilosophical preference. Now it would 
 be difficult to say, whether complete selfishness, or universal 
 philanthropy, is the most likely to mislead us from that sound 
 practical goodness, in which the beauty of Christianity and 
 the merit of a Christian consist. Our sphere of thoughts 
 has hardly any limits, our sphere of action hardly any extent; 
 we may speculate on worlds, we must act in families, in 
 districts, and in kingdoms ; and if we contract a distaste for 
 the good we can do, because it is not equal to the good we 
 can conceive, we only sacrifice deeds to words, and rule our 
 hves by maxims of the most idle and ostentatious sentiment. 
 
 One of the first passions by which the imagination of an 
 able and a good youth is inflamed, is the love of his country; 
 but he often manages it in such a manner as to convert it 
 into a venial error rather than a virtue ; I say venial, because 
 those errors which proceed from the good and generous dis- 
 positions of youth, deserve indulgence, and are seldom perpe- 
 tuated but when they are treated with harshness. All the 
 splendid actions performed in popular governments, give a 
 very early bias to the mind ; the perusal of them forms the 
 most material part of education ; there is nothing which 
 ranges youthful fancy on the side of government, and every- 
 thing which ranges it against it ; there is very little to feed 
 the imagination in the idea that men must be restrained, and 
 protected (above all things) from their own madness and 
 folly ; that they must often be deluded and threatened into 
 their own good ; but a very little warmth and elevation of 
 thought will convert all the necessary operations of the 
 best governments into crimes ; — contribution is extortion, 
 punishment is cruelty, management and prudence are du- 
 plicity, and restraint slavish subjugation ; and hence, in the 
 young, patriotism is often little else than an universal sus- 
 
m 
 
 ON THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. 
 
 picion and abuse of all government Avhatsoever. Many- 
 have the good fortune to outgrow this childish propensity ; 
 in others it is fixed for life, and exhibits instances of mis- 
 taken, declamatory men, and of the most deplorable waste of 
 talents. 
 
 Another cause which renders the love of their country less 
 useful in the young, is vanity. 
 
 A young man in some of the higher professions, becomes 
 fluent in technical phrases, and skilful in technical business ; 
 he acquires some degree of consideration in the little circle in 
 which he lives, and tastes, for the first time, the sweets of 
 distinction and praise : instantly he becomes to himself a 
 creature of unlimited importance, a concealed treasure ; and 
 careless of that partial pre-eminence, which he considers so 
 much less than his real right, he paints to himself listening 
 senates, and applauding people ; and is an orator, a dema- 
 gogue, and a statesman. 
 
 in the first half of life, vanity in all its various shapes is 
 unquestionably the great moving passion ; and it is, perhaps, 
 in the first half of life that these ideas more peculiarly pre- 
 vail. As a man multiplies his relations, and takes a firmer 
 root in society, as he assumes the new characters of father 
 and hiisband, and as the real business of the world crowds 
 upon him, he becomes more practical; the follies, like the 
 beauties of his youth, fade away, and the soul's dark mansion 
 lets in new light through the openings which time has made. 
 
 It would seem, also, that the science of government is an 
 unappropriated region in the universe of knowledge. Those 
 sciences with which the passions can never interfere, are con- 
 sidered to be attainable only by study and by reflection ; while 
 there are not many young men who doubt of their ability to 
 make a constitution, or to govern a kingdom. At the same 
 time, there cannot, perhaps, be a more decided proof of a 
 superficial understanding, than the depreciation of those dif- 
 ficulties which are inseparable from the science of govern- 
 ment. To know well the local and the natural man ; to track 
 the silent march of human affairs ; to seize with happy intui- 
 tion on those great laws which regulate the prosperity of 
 empires ; to reconcile principles to circumstances, and be no 
 wiser than the times will permit; to anticipate the effects of 
 every speculation upon the entangled relations and awkward 
 complexity of real life ; and to follow out the theorems of the 
 senate to the daily comforts of the cottage ; is a task which 
 
 .."'^ - ' ' ■ 
 
ON THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. 95 
 
 they will fear most who know it best ; a task in which the 
 great and the good have often failed, and which it is not only- 
 wise, but pious, and just in common men to avoid. 
 
 There is a mahgnity of disposition which is unfavourable 
 to the interests of the country in which we Hve, a weariness 
 of the general content, a disgust at the diffusion of happiness, 
 and a desire to forget internal vexation by the sight of a con- 
 tagious and epidemic misery. In a different temperament, 
 this predisposing cause is a love of turbulence, an impatience 
 of everything tranquil, and a horror of stagnant serenity and " 
 insipid content. Above all, there is that horrid passion of 
 convulsing, and reversing which would place the heel of the 
 rustic upon the neck of the noble, — would worship the pan- 
 dects and decretals of peasants, — and thrust the sacred gold 
 of the sceptre into hands that had ever clenched the scythe 
 and the spade. 
 
 There lies at the bottom of all vast communities, a nume- 
 rous sect of men, of open or disguised poverty, who have 
 lost fortune and fame, in the sink of pleasure, and quenched 
 every particle of God in voluptuous enormities, and crimes ; 
 base, bad men, who prey upon industry and hate virtue; who 
 would tear down the decencies, and pollute the innocence of / 
 life, that they might make mankind as wretched as themselves, 
 and spread the horror of ungoverned passions and unquali- 
 fied indulgence. Here is the first nucleus of all revolutions ; 
 it matters not whether the object be to enslave the people, or , 
 to free them ; to give them up to another's tyranny, or to the 
 more cruel dominion of their own folly ; to establish a despo- 
 tism or a democracy. In all revolutions there is plunder, 
 and change ; and here are the hordes of assassins and rob- 
 bers, the tools of political violence, tutored by their ancient 
 pleasures and their present distress, to callous inhumanity 
 and boundless rapine. This source of danger to our country 
 needs but very little comment ; the cure of such an evil falls 
 under that general law of self-defence by which we crush a 
 venomous reptile, or slaughter a beast of prey. No other ar- 
 gument can here be of the smallest importance but the argu- 
 ment of brute force and determined opposition. 
 
 Many people who are conscious, and justly conscious of 
 merit, are less disposed to the love of their country from find- 
 ing themselves neglected by their superiors in rank and re- 
 putation ; every man is desirous of rising in life, and ambi- 
 tious of connecting himself in the most eHgible manner. The 
 
96 ON THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. 
 
 world unfortunately measures by one scale, and the individual 
 by another ; and disappointment is always attributed to the 
 injustice of those who confer reputation, rather than the over- 
 rated pretensions of him who seeks it. 
 
 It is natural to every man to wish for distinction ; and the 
 praise of those who can confer honour by their praise, in spite 
 of all false philosophy, is sweet to every human heart. But 
 as eminence can but be the lot of a few, patience of obscurity 
 is a duty which we owe not more to our own happiness than 
 to the quiet of the world at large. Give a loose, if you are 
 young and ambitious, to that spirit which throbs within you; 
 measure yourself with your equals ; and learn, from frequent 
 competition, the place which nature has allotted to you ; make 
 of it no mean battle, but strive hard ; strengthen your soul to 
 the search of truth, and follow that spectre of excellence which 
 beckons you on beyond the walls of the world to something 
 better than man has yet done. It may be, you shall burst out 
 into light and glory at the last : but if frequent failure con- 
 vince you of that mediocrity of nature which is incompatible 
 with great actions, submit wisely and cheerfully to your lot. 
 Let no spirit of revenge tempt you to throw off your loyalty 
 to your country ; and to prefer a vicious celebrity to obscurity 
 crowned with piety and virtue. If you can throw new light 
 upon moral truth, or by any exertions multiply the comforts, 
 or confirm the happiness of mankind, this fame guides you to 
 the true ends of your nature. Buty in the name of God, as 
 you tremble at retributive justice, and in the name of man- 
 kind, if mankind be dear to you, seek not that easy and ac- 
 cursed fame which is gathered in the work of revolutions, 
 and deem it better to be for ever unknown, than to found a 
 momentary name upon the basis of anarchy and irreligion. 
 
 There is a wearisome and sickly affectation of feeling unfa- 
 vourable to the love of our country ; there are men, by whom 
 the people are spoken of in terms of the warmest compassion, 
 to whom government conveys no other notion than that of a 
 vast conspiracy against human happiness, and in whose minds 
 the different orders of society are considered to be in a state 
 of essential hostility against each other. A poor man is ne- 
 cessarily an oppressed man, and a rich man necessarily a 
 tyrant ; and the day of poHtical salvation is looked for, when 
 the valleys are to be exalted, and the hills laid low, crooked 
 rendered straight, and the rough places plain. 
 
 If such be commonly the errors of the young, the faults of 
 
ON THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. 97 
 
 those more conversant v^rith the world are, I am afraid, of a 
 less favourable complexion. Whatever virtues may increase 
 with age, the virtue of patriotism is not amongst the number. 
 It is in truth a matter of some wonder that so many men of 
 irreproachable honesty in private life, should be so totally de- 
 void of pubhc virtue ; not only devoid of it in practice, but in 
 theory. Every sneer against the duties we owe to the pub- 
 lic is received with complacency, and considered as proceed- 
 ing from a thorough knowledge of life and mankind ; and to 
 talk seriously of the love of our country, is political artifice, 
 or youthful declamation. Nor are these public sins at all in- 
 famous in the eyes of the world ; men of undoubted guilt 
 move in the same circles they moved before, and with in- 
 creased consideration, if their crimes be upon a large scale, 
 and they have bartered morality for a dignified price. De- 
 cided and immediate infamy follows treason to individual 
 trust. When one man suffers from fraud and injustice, 
 every honest heart is up in arms. Is dishonesty less dis- 
 honesty because the number of the sufferers is increased, and 
 the evil subdivided amongst a whole^ 'country ? The limits 
 of private fraud are narrow, and its effect of no long duration. 
 PubHc dishonesty may entail misery upon a whole people, 
 and the unborn infant may suffer for the laxity and corrup- 
 tion of preceding times. Has our Saviour given us such 
 strict rules for our conduct to each other, and left us to the 
 free exercise of every bad and licentious passion when we 
 sin only against the public ? Is it against narrow and partial 
 crimes that he has threatened the wrath of God, and has he 
 flung open the doors of Heaven to magnificent villany and 
 boundless pollution ? He who sins against the pubhc has no 
 true religion of Grod ; he has no honour, which is the religion 
 of the world: he abstains from crimes against individuals, 
 because he knows that loss of reputation is loss of interest, 
 and gives loose to his baseness, when profit invites and im- 
 punity permits ; if he lived in worse times, when the stand- 
 ard of morals was still lower, he would defraud his neighbour, 
 he would forfeit his word; his pretended virtues are maxims 
 of convenience ; he has no guardian conscience, no protecting 
 principle; there waves not in his breast that flaming sword 
 which turns every way to drive off that which is evil, and to 
 guard the tree of life ; he does not feel that he is as accounta- 
 ble to God in every public as in every private transaction of 
 his life ; that he is bound to perform those duties which may 
 9 
 
98 ON THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. 
 
 affect the country at large, with the same delicate and inflexi- 
 ble justice which he would exhibit on ordinary occasions, 
 and not to be base, because he can be base with impunity ; 
 that he ought to probe to the quick every, the least motive to 
 public fraud and to public corruption, even though the wrong 
 should be divided, and subdivided amongst millions and mil- 
 lions of people; he remembers not that they only can enter 
 into the holy tabernacle of God who have clemi hands and a 
 pure heart. 
 
 There is a crime committed against the country, in times 
 of its adversity, which is certainly of the most sordid and 
 selfish nature ; that men who derive not only protection, but 
 opulence, from a country in the days of its prosperity, should 
 upon any appearance of alarm, be ever ready to retire with 
 person and property to other countries, is a principle sub- 
 versive of all political union whatsoever. What nation could 
 exist for a moment, if, in the day of danger and war, when 
 the kingdoms were gathered together against her, she saw 
 her treasures dispersed, and her children fled ? Are we not 
 all hnked together by language, by birth, by habits, by opinions, 
 by virtues, for worse, for better, for glory, for shame, for peace, 
 for war, for plenty, for want ? Will you shudder to interweave 
 your destiny with the destiny of your country ? Can you 
 possibly think of your own security when your land is weary 
 and fainting because of her great afflictions ? And when all 
 whom you know and love can die and suffer, would you alone 
 live and rejoice? If I forget thee. Oh Jerusalem! let my 
 right hand forget her cunning : If I do not remember thee in 
 the time of my trouble, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my 
 mouth. 
 
 It is sometimes good to be content with doing httle ; the 
 great and splendid occasions in which a man can benefit his 
 country are few ; the humble duties by which her benefit 
 may be advanced are of daily occurrence ; such, among 
 others, is the duty of example : it is not enough to ascer- 
 tain that actions be innocent as to ourselves ; they must 
 be innocent as to the effect they produce upon others ; the 
 consequences of some levity or omission to you may be un- 
 important ; but they are not unimportant to those who are 
 guilty of the same thing because you are, and will be guilty 
 of it with far other talents, other habits, and other dispositions 
 than yourself. This kind of patriotism is, I am afraid, rare 
 enough ; indeed, men great in talents and rank found some- 
 
ON THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. 9SJ 
 
 what of their reputation upon not doing what the rest of the 
 world do, by which the one would have their superior talents 
 inferred, and the other their superior condition. Such, I am 
 afraid, is the unworthy shame of being thought capable of 
 attending to minutiae, which robs us of the invaluable benefit 
 of example. 
 
 I cannot conclude this subject of love to our country, with- 
 out animadverting to that species of it which consists in a 
 firm and spirited combination against the unjust aggression 
 and dangerous insolence of a foreign power ; and in all the 
 history of successful resistance to outrageous tyranny, (a 
 short and beautiful page in the annals of man,) there is no \ 
 instance more marked and more illustrious than that which 
 this empire has so recently displayed to the world.* 
 
 The whole force of the most powerful people in Europe 
 was guided to our destruction by exquisite talents, unshackled 
 from the fear of God or man. Their warhke spirit was blown 
 into an enthusiasm which Mahomet could never kindle in 
 his savage Arabians, when he came forth, Hke these modern 
 fanatics, to blot out the name of Christ, and to dim the glory 
 of Christendom ; onwards they went, deceiving the simple, and 
 conquering the brave ; bringing to their foes death, to their 
 friends freedom worse than death ; but plundering, insulting, 
 and confounding all. Men's hearts were melted in the midst 
 of them ; there was neither council nor conduct in Europe ; 
 a deep-seated earthquake seemed to heave up the basis of 
 civil life, and the tribunals of men, and the thrones of mo- 
 narchs, and the temples of God, were shaken to the lowest 
 atom of their structure. What was the firm, dignified, and 
 manly conduct of this country ? We stood up for human 
 happiness, and spurning from us the luxuries of peace, un- , 
 furled a banner to the nations, under which the good, and ' 
 the honourable, and the wise might range ; and with as much 
 moderation as security would permit, and with as much 
 courage as man could display, through internal disaffection, 
 and through mutiny, and through open rebeUion, and through 
 two awful visitations of famine for many long years, we have -^ 
 maintained this great fight. What evils are still in prepara- 
 tion for us, what we are yet doomed to sufl^er, it is painful 
 and difficult to conceive; upon the success of the contest 
 which we are now carrying on, depends the tremendous 
 
 * This Sermon was written during the French Revolution. 
 
100 ON THE LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY. 
 
 / question, whether Europe shall or shall not be visited by a 
 i long period of political struggles ; and liberal arts, domestic 
 ' happiness, and rational piety be forgotten and destroyed in 
 the sorrows and the fury of revolutions. Our feelings are 
 just now a little blunted from the long continuation of the 
 . danger ; but no man can seriously turn his eyes to the position 
 of the world, without being sensible, that till this great gulf 
 be passed over, every hope of honest ambition, every wish 
 for repose, every feeling which warms the heart, may be but 
 a new cause of misery and despair. From all these evils 
 may the solid understanding and watchful courage of this 
 country, guided and blessed by the providence of God, pro- 
 tect and defend us ; and may he shelter, with his Almighty 
 power, a humane, a generous, and an ancient people, who 
 may now, perhaps, be destined to preserve to the human race 
 those indehble rights of our nature, of which they were tho 
 first to teach them the value and the use. 
 
<";^^ 
 
 SERMON XIV. 
 
 ON SKEPTICISM. 
 
 Let the lying lips be put to silence, which cruelly, disdainfully, and mali- 
 ciously speak against the righteous. — Psalm xxxi. verse 20. 
 
 To neglect those floating imputations and popular calum- 
 nies which are in circulation against any system either 
 moral, religious or political, is rather magnanimous than 
 wise, and savours more of a generous contempt for danger, 
 than of prudent precaution against it. Bold assertions and 
 specious invectives often repeated, begin at last to be credited; 
 we hear the calumny so often united to its object, that the 
 mention of the one almost mechanically introduces the notion 
 of the other ; and we are betrayed into dangerous prejudices, 
 rather by a principle of association than by any decision of 
 the judgment. 
 
 There is too, besides, a fashion in thinking as in every- 
 thing else, and the giddy part of mankind must ever appear 
 in the newest philosophy, and the most admired system of 
 ethics, or depravity, which the day has to exhibit. In an 
 age of devotion, they lead in hypocrisy, regulate the punc- 
 tilios of supplication, and adjust all the modes and minutiae 
 of piety. In an age of philosophy, they are the first to dis- 
 believe in the immortality of the soul, to discredit the evi- 
 dence of their senses, and to doubt of, discredit, and deride 
 everything else which the rules of fashionable skepticism 
 require. 
 
 If there be any truth in this, and if the world be led to 
 such unreasonable conclusions from such unreasonable causes, 
 it is important to remark the modes of thinking of the times, 
 and to select for animadversion, those trite, but prevailing 
 opinions which endanger the well-being of society. 
 
 9* 
 
103 ON SKEPTICISM. 
 
 It is a leading object with skeptics, to bring into disrepute 
 the character of Christianity, of its teachers and adherents ; 
 and one mode by which they attempt it is, by attaching to 
 all mention of these subjects, the ideas of intolerance, bigotry 
 and narrowness of mind ; — the opposite virtues they ascribe 
 to their own sect, as candour, liberality, the spirit of discus- 
 sion, and an exemption from every human prejudice ; and 
 such, (as I have before remarked,) are the effects of invec- 
 tive, and assertion frequently repeated, that those who have 
 not formed to themselves precise notions of what these opera- 
 tive terms imply, and who have not learned the necessity of 
 ascertaining their due application by a steady appeal to facts, 
 are apt to admit both the justice of the imputations which this 
 sect of philosophers make, and of the pretensions to which 
 they aspire. 
 
 To the youthful, everything which appears open and 
 generous, is so agreeable, everything which conveys the 
 idea of narrowness, concealment, or deceit, is so obnoxious, 
 that they literally become ashamed of their religion, and feel 
 abashed at their faith, before these men of liberal sentiment 
 and extended inquiry. 
 
 It is very easy to see the pernicious consequences to which 
 this will lead ; the horror which a young man of talent feels, 
 is the horror of being unknown and unadmired ; he cannot 
 wait to think of distant consequences, the parade of disbelief 
 is too tempting for him, and he becomes a deist; a little time 
 elapses, and from the same vanity of extending (or appearing 
 to extend) investigation, he begins to call in question a super- 
 intending Providence, and a sense of right and wrong ; and 
 descending through a long train of theories and systems, 
 from bad to worse, he subsides into a state of complete skep^ 
 ticism upon every question whatsoever. Is this a spectacle 
 which it is possible for any human being to behold with 
 indifference ? A young man standing on the threshold of 
 life, and just going into all the business of the world, with a 
 heart in which every principle of right and wrong is tho- 
 roughly shaken and impaired ! If not destined for great 
 offices in public life, yet he is a brother, a son, a friend ; he 
 is to be a husband, and a father of children ; some must trust 
 him, and some must love him. Call it bigotry, and cover 
 these notions with mockery and derision ; but I say it would 
 be better for this young man, that the work of death were 
 going on within him, that the strength and the roses of his 
 
ON SKEPTICISM. 10§ 
 
 youth were fading away, and that he were wasting down to 
 the tombs of his ancestors, wept by his friends, and pitied by 
 the world. 
 
 If I am right in considering these effects to be so perni- 
 cious, let us examine on what foundation such high-minded 
 pretensions rest, and whether there be any set of men who 
 have a right to consider themselves as so far advanced beyond 
 their fellow-creatures in the spirit of wisdom, and to look 
 down upon the rest of mankind with anger and contempt. 
 
 In speaking of those who disbelieve in Christianity, I am 
 very far from including, in my observations, every person of 
 this description. 
 
 The truth of Christianity rests upon its own internal evi- 
 dence, and the evidence of history. It is impossible to account 
 for the aberrations of human reason ; evidence of the strongest 
 kind is daily excepted to by men of unquestionable talents 
 and sincerity ; to us the proofs of the truth of our religion 
 appear manifest and strong ; that they shall not appear so to 
 others is certainly possible, because every irrational con- 
 clusion is possible. Whoever has examined the question 
 with that candid and investigating spirit which its extreme 
 importance demands : whoever respects, with an amiable 
 and principled modesty, the common behef of mankind on 
 this topic, however it may differ from his own particular 
 persuasion ; whoever would rather conceal what he considers 
 to be an exemption from prejudice, and a proof of superior 
 talent in himself, than weaken any rehgious restraint, or 
 impair any virtuous principle in the bosom of any one human 
 being ; whoever believes it possible for a Christian to be tho- 
 roughly impressed with the truth of his religion, without 
 forfeiting all pretensions to sincerity, to talent, and to learn- 
 ing ; against such a man I am not now lifting up my voice ; 
 may God enlighten his darkness, and convert his heart ! 
 But it is that sect of men I am endeavouring to single out, 
 who, in all the common intercourse of life, obtrude upon you 
 their blasphemy and their skepticism ; who pant to tell you 
 they have no God ; and are restless till they have convinced 
 you they have trampled under foot every pleasant hope and 
 every decent restriction in life ; who think that a few silly/ 
 pleasantries and slender arguments are a sufficient prepa- 
 ration to decide on these proofs of a future life ; men who 
 (while they think they have monopolized all liberal sentiment, 
 and all acute inquiry), are persecuting in their toleration, 
 
104 ON SKEPTICISM. 
 
 bigoted in their liberality, and furious in their moderation. 
 These are the men who have made the very name of philo- 
 sophy a term of reproach ; who have been the cause, that the 
 plea of liberahty cannot now be heard without a sneer of sus- 
 picion ; these are they who have destroyed, in the mass of 
 mankind, all veneration for the labours of speculative wis- 
 dom ; who have really put back the world, diminished every 
 rational hope of improvement ; and by bringing the whole 
 healing art into disrepute, have made men cleave to their 
 ulcers and their pains, and shudder at the hand which is held 
 out to offer them relief. 
 
 In their depreciation of religion, and the religious, persons 
 of skeptical opinions are accustomed to make a very copious 
 use of history ; they can from thence show, that there was a 
 period when men were utterly debarred from all freedom of 
 opinion upon rehgious subjects, when this intolerance was 
 manifested in the most cruel persecutions, by an artful and 
 ambitious priesthood, who governed and who pillaged the 
 world. 
 
 These facts may be true ; but they do not justify the infer- 
 ences which are drawn from them, vlf everything is to be 
 considered as bad in itself, which is capable of being abused, 
 liberty, wealth, learning, and power, ought rather to be the 
 objects of our aversion than our choice ; every good principle 
 has been at times perverted ; every good institution has been 
 gradually elaborated from the sufferings and afflictions of the 
 world : man, doubly wretched, slowly toils on to perfection, 
 earning his bread by the sweat of his brow, and his wisdom 
 by the sorrows of his heart. 
 
 But what, it may be asked, have these historical imputa- 
 tions, these invectives of rolls and records, to do with the 
 principles and practice of the present day; a day in which 
 the pretensions of every class of men are kept in due bounds _ 
 by the enHghtened condition of all, and in which every one 
 is left to worship God according to his own ideas of truth ? 
 The object is not to show what establishments have been, 
 and what Christianity has been in dark ages, but to show 
 the natural spirit and tendency of both. If it can be shown 
 that there is anything in the Christian religion necessarily 
 connected with bigotry and intolerance, this objection would 
 be pertinent and powerful ; but to suppose that a Christian 
 is a bigot now, because there were very few Christians who 
 were not so three hundred years ago, is to suppose the exist- 
 
ON SKEPTICISM. 105 
 
 ence of principles and causes which every cool, unprejudiced 
 mind perceives to have long ago lost their influence upon 
 mankind. We have nothing to do but to make this mahcious 
 anachronism more general, and we shall say, that natural 
 philosophy is conjecture, the medical art empiricism, and 
 law a system of ingenious depredation, because there have 
 been periods in which these sciences were all exposed to such 
 imputations. 
 
 The fact is, (and such I beheve to be the opinion of every 
 man who loves truth more than party, let his religious opin- 
 ions be what they may,) that a disbelief, not only in Chris- 
 tianity, but in a superintending Providence, is travehng 
 down from the metaphysician to the common haunts and 
 ordinary scenes of life ; that men are giving up the practical 
 morality of the Gospel, and the true and wholesome terror of 
 a God, who have no beautiful and classical theory of morals 
 to substitute in its place, but who, if they are not Christians, 
 must be wild beasts. These are the dangers which now 
 threaten us ; we have not, in the present state of the world, 
 to fear that we shall be manacled again by superstition, but 
 that the golden chain which reaches from heaven to earth, 
 should be broken asunder, and not one link of it again be 
 found. 
 
 If philosophy be a love of knowledge, evinced by an ardent 
 and able pursuit of it, there can surely be nothing to exclude 
 the firm believer in Christianity from every honourable dis- 
 tinction which this appellation can convey. The subject 
 which engages his attention is unquestionably superior in 
 importance to every other which can occupy the wit of man ; 
 the prosecution of it involves wide historical research, much 
 curious and delicate examination of evidence, much labour, 
 and many vigils of the mind ; and he who gets up from these 
 studies a sincere Christian, is, for aught I know, as much a 
 philosopher as the atheist who has studied away his soul, 
 elaborated his theory of annihilation from whole libraries, and 
 given up one life to discover there is no other. 
 
 A great many human beings must take their rehgion upon 
 trust ; few have leisure, and few have talents, for speculative 
 inquiries ; but let me ask, which is the more commendable 
 and noble, to believe in Christianity without proof, or to dis" 
 beheve in it without proof? A modest coincidence with 
 received opinions above our faculties, or an affected contempt 
 of them ? Whether there is a more disgusting spectacle than 
 
 % 
 
106 ON SKEPTICISM. 
 
 arrogant mediocrity ? Whether we cannot more easily allow 
 for that inchnation which bends towards a rehgion of com- 
 fortable promise, than that which leans to a system of cold 
 despondency ? Whether there is not something pleasant in 
 seeing our fellow-creatures cHng to a faith which arranges 
 the world, and cheers it ? And if it is not afflicting to behold , 
 that depraved appetite for misery and despair which induces 
 men to yield up their assent to a system of incredulity, with- 
 out being acquainted in the smallest degree with the reasons 
 on which it is founded ? 
 
 Those who are so fond of preferring the charge of bigotry 
 against Christians should remember how intimately this at- 
 tachment to our opinions is interwoven in our constitution, 
 and how much more likely it is to display itself upon subjects* 
 of such extreme importance as that of religion : whoever has 
 made Christianity his rule of action in this world, and his 
 hope in the next, whose original conviction has been strength- 
 ened by habit, and warmed by devotion, and can bear in this 
 tenour of mind, to hear that he has been believing in a fable, 
 that his labour is lost, and his hope illusive ; whoever can 
 bear to hear these assertions, and to discuss them without 
 transgressing the rules of candour, possesses the love of truth 
 in a degree truly inimitable, for he risks all his happiness in 
 pursuit of it. But if, in spite of this plea of mitigation, the 
 want of candour be so offensive in a Christian, what shall we 
 say to that most extraordinary of all characters, a bigoted 
 skeptic? who resists the force of proof where he has every 
 temptation to be convinced, who ought to pant for refutation, 
 and to bless the man who has reasoned him to silence ? 
 Bigotry in him is the pure unadulterated vice ; it is not the 
 fear of losing an opinion on which his happiness depends, but 
 the fear of losing an opinion merely because it is an opinion ; 
 and this is the very essence of obstinacy and pride. 
 
 Where men pretend to notliing, the world is indulgent to 
 their faults ; but it well behoves those who lord it in word 
 and thought over the rest of mankind, that they be consistent 
 in their conduct, and perfectly free from those faults which 
 they so liberally impute to others. Ignorance, bigotry and 
 ilHberality are bad enough in their simple state ; but when 
 men of slender information, narrow views and obstinate dis- 
 positions, insult the feelings, and despise the understandings 
 of such of their fellow-creatures who have fixed their faith 
 in an amiable and benevolent rehgion, we are called upon 
 
 
ON SKEPTICISM. 107 
 
 by common sense and by common spirit, to resist, and to 
 extinguish this dynasty of fools. 
 
 To those great men on whom God has breathed a larger 
 portion of his spirit, whom he has sent into the world to en- 
 large the empire of talent and of truth, mankind will ever 
 pay a loyal obedience : they are our natural leaders; they are 
 the pillars of fire which brighten the darkness of the night, 
 and make straight the paths of the wilderness ; they must 
 move on before us ; but while we give loose to our natural 
 veneration for great talents, let us not mistake laxity for 
 liberality, the indelicate boldness of a froward disposition for 
 the grasping strength and impulsive curiosity of an original 
 mind ; let us steadily discountenance the efforts of bad men, 
 and of shallow men, to darken the distinctions between right 
 and wrong ; to bring into ridicule and contempt the religion 
 of their country ; and to gratify some popular talent at the 
 expense of the dearest interests of mankind. 
 
 Bigotry and intolerance are their terms of alarm ; but do 
 not imagine that bigotry and intolerance are the creatures of 
 religion, and not the creatures of atheism, — wherever igno- 
 rance, wherever passion, wherever insolence reside, — you 
 will see the same Wind and bloated vehemence idly strug- 
 ghng with the wildness of human thought, and bending the 
 elastic mind of man to its own little standard of truth. The 
 infidel clings as tenaciously to what he denies, as the reli- 
 gionist does to what he affirms ; — arm him with power, will 
 he be more tolerant ? — will he suffer you to build temples ? 
 to pray openly to your God, and to insult his doubts with 
 the profession of a faith, which, in the deep wickedness of 
 his heart, he judges to be the consummation of all absurdity ? 
 — Toleration is the creature of benevolence and of wisdom ; 
 what have the shallow sneers and scoffings of infidelity to 
 do with this heavenly forbearance ? do not be mocked by 
 such idle pretensions ; if atheism ever rears its head among 
 men, piety will mourn and bleed ; the broken heart must no 
 longer cry aloud in prayer ; they will stop the song of the 
 priest ; they will pull down thy altars, oh Israel, even to the 
 ground. 
 
 To that small, but invaluable class of men who have steadily 
 kept down the natural tendency to violence, and who have 
 such an exquisite tact for truth, that they can extract it pure 
 from the fury and misrepresentation of all parties, are we to 
 look for our barrier against the danger with which we appear 
 
108 ON SKEPTICISM. 
 
 to be threatened. To such men, this madness of incredulity 
 and lust of doubt will be a matter of uniform resistance and 
 profound regret ; they will know that the path assigned to 
 human reason, though lofty, is limited, and they will sigh over 
 her present excess, as well as her original imbecility ; as the 
 steady friends of human nature they will never believe that 
 the cause of real improvement is advanced by men who are 
 neither profound in the theory of religion, nor pure in its 
 practice; against such men they will bend the brow, and shut 
 the heart, and exert the real authority they possess in the 
 world, " to put to silence the lips which cruelly, disdainfully, 
 and despitefully, speak against the righteous." 
 
 M 
 '.4- 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 I^ 't 
 
 SERMON XV. 
 THE POOR MAGDALENE. 
 
 
 PREACHED BEFORE THE SCOTCH MAGDALENE SOCIETY. 
 
 Daughter, thy sins are forgiven thee. — Luke vii. verse 48. 
 
 The little narrative of which this text is a part, presents 
 so beautiful a picture of profound sorrow and virtuous humili- 
 ation, that I am sure you will excuse me, if I give it you 
 more in detail. 
 
 " Behold a woman in the city, which was a sinner, when 
 she knew that Jesus sat at meat, stood behind him, weeping, and 
 began to wash his feet with her tears, and did wipe them with 
 the hairs of her head, and kissed his feet, and anointed them 
 with ointment ; and he turned to the woman, and said to Si- 
 mon, seest thou this woman ? I entered into thine house, thou 
 gavest me no water for my feet ; but she hath washed my 
 feet with her tears, and dried them with the hairs of her head. 
 Thou gavest me no kiss : but this woman, since the time I 
 came in, hath not ceased to kiss my feet. Mine head with 
 oil thou didst not anoint ; but this woman hath anointed my 
 head with ointment : Daughter, thy sins are forgiven thee." 
 
 There is something in the sorrow of this poor, unknown 
 woman, which is touching and sublime : A delicate spirit, 
 abashed with the wisdom, and purity of Jesus, a lowliness 
 which forbade lamentation, a remorse which precluded hope, 
 a heart broken with public scorn and inward shame. She 
 said nothing, she had no hope of mercy, nor dream of salva- 
 tion for her soul ; but giving loose to that enthusiasm for the 
 good, from which the worst of our species are not wholly ex- 
 empt, and remembering, perhaps, the days when she was 
 innocent and happy, she never ceased to Avash the feet of 
 10 
 
 ^m 
 
110 THE POOR MAGDALENE. 
 
 Jesus with her tears, and to dry them with the hairs of her 
 head. 
 
 Jesus did not reject this poor creature ; he forgave her sins ; 
 and you bless the mercy of your Saviour. Bear then in mind 
 this picture, and imitate that mercy which you love. The 
 ipoor women in whose behalf I am this day to plead, present 
 themselves before you with the deepest shame, and the most 
 profound contrition : they are fully sensible of their unworthi- 
 ness ; they would kiss the ground on which you tread ; they 
 would wash your feet with their tears : have mercy on them, 
 for they are wretched ; and if you cannot forgive their sins, 
 at least alleviate their sorrows. 
 
 Before 1 enter at length upon this subject, it maybe neces- 
 sary to state to you, that the principal object Avith the society, 
 now called the Magdalene Society, is to reclaim unhappy and 
 deluded females from a vicious course of life, to inure them 
 to habits of industry, to reconcile them to their families, and 
 restore them to a sense of rehgion. It is nearly two years 
 since this Society was first founded ; and during that time 
 forty-four women have been admitted to the benefit of the 
 institution. You will be curious to know the result, and I 
 will lay it before you with the greatest candour. In some 
 women the habits of vice have been found so deeply fixed, 
 that it was not possible to eradicate them ; such have of course 
 been dismissed from the asylum, though by no means wholly 
 abandoned : The salvation of a fellow-creature has been al- 
 ways deemed, by those who superintend this institution, as 
 much too sacred an object to be given up while activity 
 could suggest a single effort, which reason could sanction. 
 But I have the greatest pleasure in assuring you, that the 
 cares of the Society have been eminently successful in by 
 far the greatest number of instances ; and that many poor 
 women who would (but for this) have dragged on a wretched 
 and ignominious life, have been reconciled to their parents, 
 received into reputable famihes as servants, and placed, by 
 a sense of their past misery and present comfort, beyond 
 the rational probability of relapse. There are at present 
 twenty women in the house ; and the frequent apphcation for 
 admission, from the most miserable objects possible, which 
 the contracted state of their funds has compelled the society 
 to reject, has occasioned this appeal to the charity of the 
 public. 
 
 It must not be dissembled, that there are some respectable, 
 
 «f 
 
THE POOR MAGDALENE. IH 
 
 and well-meaning people unfavourable to this institution, 
 from a conception that it encourages vice : that women, who 
 have so far forgotten every principle of virtue, ought to be 
 abandoned to their fate ; and that to take so lively an interest 
 in the situation and circumstances of such depraved charac- 
 ters, is neither proper in itself, nor encouraging to those who 
 are virtuous and good. 
 
 But if it were true, that a facility to escape from the miseries 
 of vice, operates as an inducement to crime, are we wholly to 
 exclude all consideration for the individual sufferer, and ren- 
 der wretchedness coeval with life, for the sake of pubhc ex- 
 ample ? Vice besides does not originate from computation of 
 probabilities, and accurate adjustment of future good and evil, 
 but from ignorance, weak notions of duty, bad government of 
 the mind, and dangerous situation. Let us advert to the real 
 facts. A poor young creature, allured from the country, 
 perhaps, by idle dreams of wealth and ambition, is placed in 
 the middle of a large town, far removed from her parents and 
 friends, and exposed to every temptation which the most 
 infamous artifices can suggest. Bad must he be, indeed, who 
 would think to palliate a crime here in the face of God, and 
 the people ; but feeling as I do most deeply for the poor 
 women whose cause I have undertaken, it is my duty to 
 bring to your remembrance, those circumstances which fixed 
 their ill-fated destiny, and made them what they are, the 
 daughters of affliction ; degraded ; suppliants to God and 
 man. It is no imaginary picture I paint to you, but the crimes 
 of real life. I repeat again, that the most atrocious artifices 
 are daily put in practice against the lower class of women, 
 and by men in whom religion, education, and rank in life, 
 ought to have infused far other principles of honour, dignity, 
 and compassion ; who, besides all other considerations, ought 
 to know, that he who sacrifices the innocence of a woman, who 
 looks up to her character, and her labour for honest support, 
 gives up a human creature to want, and to crime, to untimely 
 depravity, and to early death. 
 
 The tender age of many of these poor creatures is a cir- 
 cumstance which pleads powerfully to your compassion. 
 The necessary sacrifice of prudence to poverty, is the source 
 of many vices, as it ought to be of much indulgence, to the 
 lower classes of mankind. At the very period when the 
 child requires most the advice and vigilance of the mother, 
 she is compelled to quit her home for new and dangerous 
 
112 THE POOR MAGDALENE. 
 
 scenes, and is left to her own fatal guidance, at the most 
 perilous moment of life. There are women in this Society 
 of fifteen and sixteen years of age, fit objects truly of that 
 pious compassion they have moved, and that fatherly protec- 
 tion they have received ; thus while the human body slowly 
 toils on to its last stature, and the soul late unfolds its power, 
 and its might, every bad passion is swift to increase, and 
 before nature has finished her work, vice has sunk it to 
 decay. 
 
 You feel less pity for these women, perhaps, because yoa 
 associate to their former life, riot, extravagance, and mad 
 luxury : rather associate to it the feelings of infamy, of hun- 
 ger, of remorse, of houseless, friendless, and unpitied want : 
 The sufferings of the respectable poor are bad enough ; but 
 if you will fathom to the lowest the misery of our nature, 
 look to the union of poverty and vice. Behold the dying 
 prostitute, so joyous once, so innocent, and so good, behold 
 her in some dismal recess of a crowded city, slowly yielding 
 up her life to sorrow and to pain. So lies this poor forgotten 
 creature, without the blessing of parents, or the voice of kins- 
 men, or the sweet counsel of friends, and when you see her 
 face pale with weakness and her limbs withered with dis- 
 ease, and her dwelhng loathsome from want, forget not that 
 she has yet a sorrow which no human eye can reach, the 
 remembrance of a mis-spent life has broken her heart ; and 
 though she send forth no plaintive voice, and though she shed 
 no idle tear, she is mastered by an unknown spirit within, and 
 sinks sadly down to her long and lasting home. 
 
 To such scenes as these, sound policy and genuine piety 
 unite to call your attention ; to educate, to reclaim, to diffuse 
 morality and religion, is the most comprehensive wisdom and 
 the truest philanthropy. If laws give efficacy to morals, 
 morals give efficacy to laws ; and it is rather, perhaps, in the 
 disposition to obey, than in the power to enact, that the security 
 for human happiness consists. 
 
 The number of these deluded women is so great, and their 
 sufferings, in process of time, so lamentable, that, considered 
 by themselves, they become an object of political interference, 
 and Christian compassion ; considered as to its "general effects, 
 the increase or diminution of this species of profligacy, be- 
 comes of the highest civil importance. Who, then, shall set 
 bounds to those labours which go to increase the sum of 
 virtue in a state ; or who shall assign the precise limits where 
 
THE POOR MAGDALENE. 1^ 
 
 the work of reformation shall stop, and the bad be abandoned? 
 If education have been tried in vain, we will set to work the 
 great engine of repentance, which rests upon experience, 
 and model afresh the human mind softened by affliction. The 
 fears of mankind are in general resorted to, rather than their 
 ductility ; and it is more common to punish than reclaim ; a 
 supposed necessity alone can justify this rough mehoration of 
 our species ; but the voluntary labours of the truly good and 
 respectable men who preside over this Society, show you that 
 no such necessity exists, and deserve your warmest protection, 
 as they substitute for severity, persuasion, and effect the purest 
 end by the gentlest means. 
 
 The great attention which has always been paid to recon- 
 cile reclaimed children to their parents, is a very pleasing 
 feature in the conduct of this charity ; the protection and 
 countenance of the parent give stability to the new virtue of 
 the child; and the renewal of this endearing relation is strictly 
 congenial to our most lively feelings. 
 
 A young female was received some time since into the 
 Society, who, in consequence of the infamous character she 
 had incurred, had been wholly abandoned by her poor, but 
 respectable parents, for above four years. You all know 
 the extreme care with which the poor people attend to the 
 religious and moral education of their children in this part of 
 the world ; and will, I am sure, in the goodness of your 
 hearts, anticipate the feehngs of two poor villagers as they 
 speculated on the future prospects of their late beloved inmate, 
 their fears for her safety, their humble ambition, their hope 
 that they had not in vain suffered want for her improvement, 
 their ardent prayer to Almighty God for their child. Not to 
 dwell upon intermediate scenes, by the interference of the 
 Society ; the father agreed to receive his daughter, and they 
 were brought together ; the appearance of each, just before 
 they met, was wonderfully impressive : In the child there 
 were marks of the deepest contrition and humility ; a sense 
 of joy, at the idea of seeing her father, mingled with a pertur- 
 bation which bordered on delirious wildness ; in the poor man 
 there was an honest shame at the disgrace which his daughter 
 had incurred, not wholly devoid of anger ; but it was easy to 
 see how much his compassion ruled over every other feeling 
 of his mind. Such was the interesting appearance of these 
 poor people before they met ; but when they saw each other, 
 there was no shame, there was no dread, there was no anger, 
 
 10* 
 
114 THE tOOR MAGDALENE. 
 
 there was no contrition ; but there were tears, and cries, and 
 loud sobbings, and convulsive embraces, and the father wept 
 over his daughter, and loved her ; and they that saw this, 
 bear witness how blessed a thing it is to snatch a human soul 
 from perdition, to show the paths of God to poor sinners, and 
 to shower down the glories of virtue and religion on the 
 last and the lowest of mankind. Will you then suffer me 
 to plead to you in vain, in such a cause as this ? Will you 
 suffer such a noble, and rational charity to perish now at its 
 birth? Will you turn back these half reclaimed women, 
 when you have taught them the full measure of their sin 
 and wretchedness ? Or, if a human being say to you, I am 
 doing wrong ; I am sinning against God, and man ; I am 
 wretched ; I know not where to turn ; pity me, and show 
 me the paths of eternal life ; will you drive back the penitent 
 to her sins, and rage with all the severity of law, and censure 
 when you have refused the benefit of preventive instruction ? 
 
 I could speak to you for hours on this charity ; but I have 
 the firmest reliance on that rational goodness, so characteris- 
 tic of this country, and before which no true object of misery 
 ever presented itself in vain. Let me beg of you to take the 
 nature and views of this society into your most serious con- 
 sideration, and only to promote them as in your cool judgment 
 you shall deem them important to the interest of true religion 
 and social order, and sanctioned, as I most firmly believe them 
 to be, by every moral probability of success. 
 
 But do not trust to the faded impressions of representation : 
 Scenes of moral improvement are always gratifying, and 
 always instructive : view with your own eyes the strict order 
 and decency which pervade this institution ; converse with 
 the humble penitents, and hear what they will tell you of 
 the horrors from which they have been rescued, of their pre- 
 sent comfort, and their hopes of immortality revived. The 
 most delicate and amiable woman need not blush to counte- 
 nance with her presence, this school of moral emendation : 
 To be noticed by their superiors in rank, animates the exer- 
 tions of these women, and lightens the task of reformation ; 
 and there is something in the sight of living purity (such as 
 it does often live in gentle and gracious women), that makes 
 the heart wiser and better in an instant, than the most spi- 
 rited harangues on the nature, and glowing descriptions of 
 the excellence of virtue. 
 
 My fellow Christians, and my brothers, hear now my last 
 
THE POOR MAGDALENE. 115 
 
 words before you quit this solemn place, and return to the 
 business and bustle of the world. Half a century will scarce 
 elapse, and every being here present will be dead ; new 
 men, and new events will occupy the world, and the dreaded 
 pit of oblivion will shut over us all. Is the thought of an 
 hereafter dear to you ? Is it your care to meet the great God 
 Avith good deeds ? Have pity then on these forlorn women ; 
 for if you have no pity on them, they will speedily be for- 
 saken by all : lay up a sweet remembrance for the evil day; 
 and know, that the best mediation with God Almighty, the 
 Father, and his Son of mercy, and love, is the prayer of a 
 human being whom you have saved from perdition. 
 
SERMON XVI. 
 UPON THE BEST MODE OF CHARITY 
 
 For the poor shall never cease out of the land : Therefore, I command 
 thee, saying, Thou shalt open thine hand wide unto thy brother, to thy 
 poor, and to thy needy in the land. — Deuteronomy xv. verse 11. 
 
 I DO not propose to myself so very comprehensive a subject 
 as that of a general exhortation to charity ; but presupposing 
 a due disposition in the minds of my congregation to relieve 
 the wants of their fellow-creatures, I shall take the liberty of 
 suggesting a few remarks upon the proper direction and just 
 government of this amiable virtue. 
 
 It is of importance, not only that we should do good, but 
 that we should do it in the best manner. A little judgment, 
 and a little reflection added to the gift, do not merely en- 
 hance the value, but often give to it the only value which it 
 possesses ; and even prevents that mischief of which thought- 
 less benevolence is sometimes the cause. 
 
 Mankind can never be too strongly, or too frequently cau- 
 tioned against self-deception. If a state of vice be a state of 
 misery, a state of vice of which we are ignorant is doubly 
 so, from the increased probability of its duration. It is sur- 
 prising how many men are cheated by flighty sentiments of 
 humanity into a belief that they are humane ; how frequent- 
 ly charitable words are mistaken for charitable deeds, and 
 a beautiful picture of misery for an effectual relief of it. 
 There are many who have tears for the chaste and classical 
 sorrow of the stage, who have never submitted to go into the 
 poor man's cottage, to hear his tedious narrative, and to come 
 close at hand with poverty, and its dismal and disgusting 
 attendants. Pure moral misery, wrought up into an artful 
 tale, is a luxurious banquet for the refined mind, which would 
 
il 
 
 UPON THE BEST MODE OF CHARITY. 1 17 
 
 turn away from the gross unhappiness of real life, where the 
 low and the ludicrous are mingled with the sad, where our 
 deUcacy is offended, while our feelings are roused, and we 
 are reminded, not only of the misfortunes, but of the infirmi- 
 ties of man. A state of delicate sensibihty in the moral feel- 
 ings is commendable, or blameworthy, according to the con- 
 sequences to which it leads : If strong impressions of human 
 misery rouse us to the relief of it, they are faithful monitors 
 to virtue, and cannot be too effectually preserved; but if feel- 
 ings are mere feelings, and do not stimulate us to action, they 
 can answer no other purpose than to display ostentatious 
 softness, or inflict useless suffering ; if men indulge in specu- 
 lations far above the level of real life, the danger is, that 
 they become unfit for action. Who can bear the muddy pool, 
 and the barren sand of the desert, after he has gazed on the 
 beautiful prodigies of a fancy landscape? If we have drawn 
 romantic notions of misfortune, and annexed to it the ideas 
 of venerable, simple, docile, and grateful, we shall soon be- 
 come disgusted with the practice of charity, and fly back to 
 the reveries of speculative benevolence, as an asylum from the 
 disappointments we meet with in the world, as it is really 
 constituted. 
 
 Another important point in the administration of charity, 
 is a proper choice of the object we relieve. To give promis- 
 cuously is better, perhaps, than not to give at all. But instead 
 of risking the chance of encouraging imposture, discover 
 some worthy family struggling up against the world, a 
 widow with her helpless children, old people incapable of 
 labour, or orphans destitute of protection and advice ; sup- 
 pose you were gradually to attach yourselves to such real 
 objects of compassion, to learn their Avants, to stimulate 
 . their industry, and to correct their vices ; surely these 
 two species of charity are not to be compared together in the 
 utility, or in the extent of their effects ; in the benevolence 
 they evince or in the merits they confer. If you wish to 
 gratify the feelings or avoid the reproaches of your heart, 
 with as little trouble to yourself as possible, you may lavish 
 your bounty upon the first object you meet, without knowing 
 whether you are gratifying vice, or relieving want ; this is a 
 kind of middle course, which, though it fall far short of the 
 dignity of virtue, keeps up a sort of comfortable delusion, 
 and reconciles us in some measure to ourselves. Whereas, 
 he who is charitable, not from constitutional feelings, but 
 
118 UPON THE BEST MODE OF CHARITY. 
 
 from a wide, strong, and imperative sense of duty, will re-? 
 member, that he owes to the poor, not only that which he 
 gives, but he owes to them the happy application and judi- 
 cious distribution of the gift ; he owes to them a certain por- 
 tion of his time and intelligence ; the exercise of that influ- 
 ence which education, wealth, and manners always have, 
 and always ought to have upon the lower orders of mankind. 
 This is the steady, enlightened compassion of an ample mind 
 and a good heart ; this is that vigilant and wise benevolence 
 which makes happy cottages and smiling villages, and fills 
 the spirit of a just man with unspeakable delight. This 
 patronage or adoption of the indigent, places the poor under 
 the critical inspection of their superiors ; it blends those who 
 want control, with those who can exercise it ; it gives to the 
 rich a taste for doing good ; to the poor, a love and veneration 
 for rank and power ; diffuses civilization, and has a wonderful 
 effect in promoting good order and general improvement. 
 Those who have taken notice of the very striking difference 
 between such villages in the country, where the poor are 
 deserted by their natural guides and leaders, and those where 
 they have some truly good model to look up to, will, I am 
 sure, need no other proof of the justice of these remarks. 
 
 The true reason why this species of charity is so rarely 
 practised is, that we are afraid of imposing such a severe 
 task upon our indolence ; though in truth, all these kinds of 
 difficulties are extremely overrated. When once we have 
 made ourselves acquainted with a poor family, and got into 
 a regular train of seeing them at intervals, the trouble is 
 hardly felt, and the time scarcely missed ; and if it is missed, 
 ought it to be missed ? Shall we lay out a whole life in the 
 acquisition of knowledge, and in the pursuit of wealth ? 
 Shall we pawn our souls to party, and to ambition, and 
 grudge those few moments which we give up to solid deeds 
 of virtue, the only deeds we shall look back on with pleasure, 
 when old age, and death near at hand, show us the world 
 in another and in a true light ? Can we find leisure for all 
 the intricacies of business and science, and no leisure to re- 
 concile the man to his own heart ? Shall we go to our grave, 
 knowing all wisdom but the best? " ^,'' says Job, in the 
 midst of his afflictions, " j/" / have withheld the poor from 
 their desire^ or have caused the eyes of the widow to fail, or 
 have eaten my morsel alone, and the fatherless have not eaten 
 thereof: If I have seen any perish for want of covering, or 
 
UPON THE BEST MODE OF CHARITY. 1 19 
 
 any poor without clothing ; if his loins have not blessed me, 
 and if he were not warmed with the fleece of my sheep : If I 
 have lifted up my arm against the fatherless when I saw my 
 help in the gate: then let mine arm be broken from the bone, 
 and let it fall from my shoulder blade.'' 
 
 These charitable visits to the poor, which I have endea- 
 voured to inculcate, are of importance, not only because they 
 prevent imposture, by making you certain of the misery 
 which you relieve, but because they produce an appeal to 
 the senses which is highly favourable to the cultivation of 
 charity. He who only knows the misfortunes of mankind 
 at second hand, and by description, has but a faint idea of 
 what is really suffered in the world. A want of charity is 
 not always to be attributed to a want of compassion. The 
 seeds of this virtue are too deeply fixed in the human con- 
 stitution, to be easily eradicated : but the appeal to this class 
 of feelings is not sufficiently strong; men do not put them- 
 selves into situations where such feelings are liable to be 
 called forth : they judge of the misfortunes of the poor through 
 the medium of the understanding, not from the lively and 
 ardent pictures of sensation. We feel it may be said, the 
 eloquence of description ; but what is all the eloquence of art, 
 to that mighty and original eloquence with which nature 
 pleads her cause ; to the eloquence of paleness and of hunger; 
 to the eloquence of sickness and of wounds ; to the eloquence 
 of extreme old age, of helpless infancy, of friendless want ! 
 What persuasives like the melancholy appearance of nature 
 badly supported, and that fixed look of sadness, which a long 
 struggle with misfortune rivets on the human countenance ! 
 What pleadings so powerful as the wretched hovels of the 
 poor, and the whole system of their comfortless economy !— 
 These are the moments in which the world and its follies are 
 forgotten, which throw the mind into a new attitude of solemn 
 thought, which have rescued many a human being from dis- 
 sipation and crime, which have given birth to many admi- 
 rable characters, and multiplied, more than all exhortation, the 
 friends of man, and the disciples of Christ. 
 
 In truth, if these observations be anywhere applicable or 
 necessary, it is in great cities that they are peculiarly so ; for 
 as misery increases with vice, and dissipation extinguishes 
 charity, the poor suffer more, and meet with less rehef, at 
 least with less of that kind of rehef which proceeds from the 
 exertions and interference of individuals. Far be it from me, 
 
120 UPON THE BEST MODE OF CHARITY. 
 
 in talking of the dissipation of great cities, to wage war with 
 the innocent pleasures of life ; with youth there should be joy, 
 for the best days of life are soon fled ; but the danger is, that 
 amidst the constant enjoyments and diversions of society, the 
 heart should become callous, and lose that noble irritability, 
 that moral life, which is the parent of all that is good in the 
 world. Enchanting as the pleasures of society appear, they 
 would still derive an additional charm from the consciousness 
 that you deserved to enjoy them, that you had acquired a 
 right to be happy, from having made others so ; and that an 
 evening of innocent gayety was earned by a morning of vir- 
 tuous exertion. 
 
 You are not, I hope, of opinion, that these kind of cares de- 
 volve upon the clergy alone, as the necessary labours of their 
 profession. Those who teach Christianity, ought certainly to 
 be most forward in every Christian exertion ; but, unquestion- 
 ably, it is not from them alone that these exertions are ex- 
 pected, but from every one whose faith teaches and whose 
 fortune enables him to be humane. I have touched on this 
 point, because such an opinion, though too absurd to be openly 
 avowed, is not too absurd for that crude and hasty palliation 
 with which we smother the conscience that we cannot satisfy. 
 
 Nor let it be imagined that the duties which I have pointed 
 out are much less pressing and imperative, because the law 
 has taken to itself the protection of the poor ; the law must hold 
 out a scanty and precarious relief, or it would encourage more 
 misery than it reHeved ; the law cannot distinguish between the 
 poverty of idleness and the poverty of misfortune ; the law de- 
 grades those whom it relieves ; and many prefer wretchedness 
 to public aid ; do not, therefore, spare yourselves from a belief 
 that the poor are well taken care of by the civil power ; and that 
 individual interference is superfluous ; — many a hand is held 
 up, and no man seeth it ; many a groan is wasted in the air, 
 many die in secret, and like the moments of the day, they 
 perish and are forgotten. Go then, while good days are yet 
 left to you, go into the house of mourning, under the roof of 
 affliction, and mingle with the old, the wretched, and the sad : 
 bow down thy spirit with them, and chasten thy soul with 
 their sorrow ; — when thy feet sound on the threshold of the 
 door, the widowed woman shall say there is bread for us to- 
 day ; children shall flock about thee, and thou shalt be to them 
 as a God ; ancient people shall have joy in their last days be- 
 cause of thee ; thy mind shall be moved within thee, and the 
 
UPON THE BEST MODE OF CHARITY. 121 
 
 bread, and the estate of the poor and oppressed shall be pre^ 
 cious in thine eyes. 
 
 Many are charitable in order to enjoy the luxury of grati- 
 tude ; an accidental good if it comes, but an unworthy motive 
 for benevolence, because it makes the virtue to depend upon 
 the caprice of the individual towards whom it is exercised. 
 For the permanent and unchangeable rule of religion, it gives 
 me a rule which varies with the feelings of every wretched 
 being whom I reheve. If my taste is gratified with the dis- 
 play of every proper sentiment, I am compassionate ; but the 
 slightest disgust is sufficient to avert me from one of the high- 
 est duties of a Christian ; I love moral effect more than reH- 
 gious obedience ; my principal object is not to reheve human 
 misery, but to excite in my own mind agreeable feehng. The 
 pity which Jesus taught was a modest and invisible pity, 
 thinking only of Hghtening the heavy heart, trembling at 
 fame, fearful lest any pleasure in the gratitude of man might 
 mingle with the spirit of charity, and pollute the pure sacri- 
 fice which it was offering up to God. 
 
 To conclude, let us always remember that every charity 
 is short lived and inefficacious, which flows from any other 
 motive than the right. There is a charity which originates 
 from the romantic fiction of humble virtue and innocence in 
 distress ; but this will be soon disgusted by low artifice, and 
 scared by brutal vice. The charity which proceeds from 
 ostentation can exist no longer than when its motives remain 
 undetected. There is (as I have just stated), a charity which 
 is meant to excite the feelings of gratitude, but this will meet 
 with its termination in disappointment. That charity alone 
 endures, which flows from a sense of duty, and a hope in 
 God. This is the charity that treads in secret those paths of 
 misery, from which all but the lowest of human wretches 
 have fled ; this is that charity which no labour can weary, 
 no ingratitude detach, no horror disgust, that toils, that par- 
 dons, that suffers, that is seen by no man, and honoured by 
 no man, but, Hke the great laws of nature, does the work of 
 God in silence, and looks to future and better worlds for its 
 reward. 
 
 11 
 
 '^Mtt 
 
SEEMON XVII. 
 
 ON METHODISM. 
 
 I bear them record that they hare a zeal for God, but not according tp 
 knowledge.— Romans x. verse 2. 
 
 There is a sect which, of late years, has been growing 
 into some importance in this country, and which, from the 
 unwearied activity of those who guide it, has been too well 
 received, and too hastily embraced ; I mean that sect com- 
 monly called Methodists, and who (though less numerous, 
 perhaps, than the friends of our Church Establishment com- 
 monly suppose), are still numerous enough, and sufficiently 
 active in making proselytes, and sufficiently successful to 
 justify that watchful attention which they now begin to expe- 
 rience from the EstabHshed clergy. 
 
 Such attention is still more necessary at this period, when 
 enthusiasm, formerly confined to the lowest ranks of the com- 
 munity, has sprung up among the rich and the great ; and 
 when it derives an influence as considerable from the wealth 
 and consequence of those who profess it, as it does from the 
 seductive nature of its doctrines. 
 
 Nothing can be more clear, than that any sect has a perfect 
 right to interpret the Gospel after its own manner, or to infuse 
 into its followers, any spirit not incompatible with the pubhc 
 peace. Such are the rights of sects as against the civil power ; 
 but against reason and inquiry, no sect is, or ought to be pro- 
 tected ; and above all, that sect ought not which proclaims 
 itself to be better and wiser than all other sects, which says, 
 we only worship the true God, salvation is for us alone. 
 
 In applying the term sect to persons of this religious per- 
 suasion, and in distinguishing them from the Church of En- 
 gland, I do not found that distinction upon the speculative 
 
ON METHODISM. 123 
 
 tenets they profess, but upon the general spirit they display ; 
 it is in vain to say you belong to our ancient and venerable 
 communion, if you lose sight of that moderation for which 
 we have always been distinguished, and, instead of sameness 
 of spirit, give us only sameness of belief. You are not of us 
 (whatever your belief may be,) if you are not as sober as we 
 are ; you are not of us if you have our zeal without our know- 
 ledge ; you are not of us if those tenets, which we have always 
 rendered compatible with sound discretion, make you drunk 
 and staggering with the new wine of enthusiasm. 
 
 Far be it from me, in pointing out those pernicious conse- 
 quences, which I believe to result from this sect of Christians, 
 to join with their enemies in the very unjust calumnies which 
 have been propagated against them ; 1 most firmly beheve 
 that, for the greater part, they are enthusiasts, not hypo- 
 crites ; that they are doing what they beheve to be right, and 
 though they are not acting up to their very exalted profes- 
 sions, yet that, upon the whole, they are fairly entitled to be 
 called sincere Christians. What may truly be objected to 
 them is, that, meaning to be the friends of religion, they are 
 its greatest enemies ; that, wishing to extend the dominion of 
 the Gospel over all hearts, they are ahenating from it the best 
 understandings ; that, preparing for sacred things, new tri- 
 umph, and wider glory, they expose sacred things to the 
 derision and scorn of the wicked. I bear them record that 
 they have a zeal for God, but not according to knowledge. 
 
 It is true that Methodism, and enthusiasm, are terms often 
 used by the unrighteous, to ridicule piety under whatever 
 aspect of manliness it may be presented, and by whatever 
 soundness of discretion it may be controlled ; but, in spite of 
 this, there is a real excess, there is a righteousness over- 
 much ; a zeal not according to knowledge, which is a perpe- 
 tual injury to true religion : the very name* used to denote 
 it, however unjustly it may be sometimes apphed, sufficiently 
 demonstrates among what description of Christians those 
 abuses exist. 
 
 When any man whose curiosity may be roused by their 
 high pretensions, or whose feelings may be wounded by their 
 unjust reproaches, first turns his attention upon these mem- 
 bers of the Christian Church, there is nothing which so much 
 attracts his notice, or so much ofl^ends his notions of real piety, 
 
 * Vital Christianity. >v^ 
 
124 ON METHODISM. 
 
 A as their astonishing arrogance and presumption; they speak 
 "^ t as if in their era and at their time God had again vouchsafed 
 to show himself to his people ; as if a new dispensation had 
 been accorded to the world, and as if the time was at last arrived 
 when they were permitted to show to mankind the true know- 
 ledge of the true God: they speak of men of all other per- 
 suasions as the children of darkness and error, pitying the 
 whole world besides themselves, and thanking God with a 
 very needless and impious gratitude, that he has made them 
 so much wiser and better than other human beings. The 
 gratification of this spiritual pride is become in fact, almost 
 one of their rehgious exercises ; it is mingled in all their reli- 
 gious meditations, and become the darling and consolation of 
 their souls ; " God J thank thee, I am not as other men are, 
 extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican;^* 
 thus spake the Pharisee ; " but the publican, standing afar 
 off, would not so much as lift up his eyes to heaven, but smote 
 upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me a sinnerP* 
 Which of these went home to his house justified rather than 
 the other? And of whom did Christ speak this parable? 
 He spake it (says St. Luke) unto certain men which trusted 
 in themselves that they were righteous, and despised others. 
 It is absolutely necessary, in order to prevent the young from 
 being imposed upon by these lofty pretensions, to protest 
 against them in the plainest and most serious manner ; they 
 are so far from being proofs of pure and genuine religion, that 
 they are the almost infallible characteristics of vulgar and 
 unblushing fanaticism. The most mistaken and impetuous 
 enthusiasts have all begun in the same manner, have all arro- 
 gantly and studiously depreciated every other mode of wor- 
 ship, have all grasped at the monopoly of piety and reason. It 
 is not the practice of the Church of England to do these 
 things ; it is not the habit of her ministers to speak insultingly 
 or to think arrogantly of those who w^orship the same God, 
 however different be the mode of that adoration ; she prefers 
 her own doctrine; but she prefers it without boasting and 
 without invidious comparison ; she derives from her antiquity 
 calm and dignified satisfaction, and from her experience, the 
 high blessings of moderation and forbearance ; but, when these 
 vain and mistaken zealots tell her that she is superannuated, 
 and decayed, that she is oppressed by the languor of age, and 
 unstrung by the indolence of success ; that she should rebuild 
 her altars after their model, and speak to the God of heaven 
 
ON METHODISM. 125 
 
 as they speak ; when this is the part assumed by men whose 
 predominant notion of rehgion seems to be that it is something 
 removed as far from common sense as possible, it is then 
 surely time to ask these men who made them lords and teach- 
 ers over us, and where each of them has found that garment 
 of Elijah, in which they so fondly walk upon the earth. They 
 have so long held this language ; it has been so long heard 
 in silence, that the silence of inactivity has been mistaken for 
 the silence of guilt : it is time that the young, upon whose 
 unpractised minds they are always at work, should know, 
 that moderation is not wholly indefensible ; and it is time they 
 should be taught to exact of religious presumption, proofs as 
 severe as its pretensions are high. 
 
 Not that it is meant by these remarks to insinuate that the 
 church is endangered by this denomination of Christians ; I 
 hope and beheve that its roots are too deep, its structure too 
 admirable, its defenders too able, and its followers too firm, 
 to be shaken by this or any other species of attack; but it 
 such dangers do exist, which 1 am not able to perceive, that 
 danger is not from principles well known and previously re- 
 futed; it is not from men who profess to reason about their 
 faith, and who give you some means of making to them a 
 reply ; but it is from that fanaticism Avhich professes only to 
 feel and not to reason, which is intangible and invisible to its 
 enemies, which it is no more possible to meet with the com- 
 mon efforts of reason, than it is to dispute with a burning 
 fever, or to argue down a subtle contagion. 
 
 There exists, too, in this sect, not onty the arrogance of 
 which 1 am speaking, but that unchristian charity in the judg- 
 ment of the motives of others, which is the natural conse- 
 quence of such arrogance ; they are perpetually in the habit 
 of putting on the actions of the rest of mankind, a construction 
 which depreciates all other religions, and exalts their own ; 
 like all small sects, living and acting together, their proselytes 
 inflame each other by mutual praise, into an exaggerated 
 sense of their own value ; and giide imperceptibly into a kind 
 of confused notion, that they are a chosen and consecrated 
 people, placed by God in the bosom of idolatry, to purify and 
 to save mankind. It is impossible not to perceive that such 
 are the secret feelings by which these men are influenced, 
 and perceiving it, it is not possible at the same time to admit, 
 that they hold the Christian faith in all that vigour, purity, 
 
 11* 
 
126 ON METHODISM. 
 
 and vitality which they would make us ordinary Christians 
 to believe. 
 
 Another mischief which they do to the cause of rehgion is, 
 >^l that by their eager and overheated imaginations, they bring 
 ^ discredit upon the sacred cause, and upon the name of 
 religion; they are taunted as the priests of Baal were 
 taunted ; — " cry aloud, for he is a God : either he is talking or 
 pursuing, or he is in a journey, or, peradventure he sleepeth, 
 and must be waked : and they cried aloud and cut themselves 
 after their barbarous manner, with knives and lancets, till the 
 blood gushed out upon them." Nothing can be more mis- 
 taken in fact, than to look upon the frantic extravagance, or 
 the undignified trifling of their teachers as innocent. No- 
 thing is innocent which casts the faintest shade of error, or 
 of folly upon true rehgion. Nothing is innocent which dis- 
 poses the minds of men to confound a serious Christian with 
 an enthusiastic Christian. Nothing is innocent which in- 
 duces them to dishonour alike the firmness of rational con- 
 viction, and the vehemence of ignorant passion ; nothing 
 which, by disgusting correct judgments, runs the remotest 
 risk of involving sober Christianity in the fate of low fanati- 
 cism. — He who is reproached for being in one extreme, com- 
 forts himself that he is not in the other ; if he neglects the du- 
 ties of religion, if he is absorbed by the world, if he violates 
 the clearest rules of right and wrong, he pleads that he is no 
 hypocrite, no fanatic, that he despises the senseless, barbarous 
 raving, which passes so often under the name of religion. 
 And this is perhaps the greatest evil of enthusiasm ; it is not 
 that an enthusiast may not himself be a better man, but that 
 he makes others worse men ; for the publican says in his turn, 
 thank God I am not as this Pharisee, and then goes headlong 
 into every sin because he will avoid extravagance, hypocrisy 
 and ostentation. Thus it is that human vices and errors are 
 perpetually acting upon each other, that we seize hold of 
 what others do too much, in order to justify ourselves in doing 
 too little, and are, on the opposite side, provoked to do too 
 much, because we observe others to do nothing at all ; the 
 horrors of infidehty produce the folHes of enthusiasm ; and 
 the follies of enthusiasm disgust men into the horrors of in- 
 fidelity. 
 
 If power and praise are the objects you seek under the 
 name of religion, or, if you are mistaken enough to suppose 
 that which is good in some degree is good in every degree ; 
 
ON METHODISM. 127 
 
 that the holy apostle, Saint Paul, when he talked of a right- 
 eousness over much, and of a zeal without knowledge, talked 
 of those feehngs which did not, and which could not exist, 
 then do as these men do, make a new god after your own 
 heated mind, and carry the narrow spirit of a faction into the 
 great business of eternity. But if you really wish to excel 
 all other Christians in your faith, and to exercise most worth- 
 ily that religion which hallows and guides the world, aim at 
 that moderation which, while it is the most difficult is the 
 most unhonoured, the most unnoticed and the most unre- 
 warded of all human virtues ; do that which a Christian ought 
 to do, without proclaiming that you do it ; do not insult men 
 to imitate you by the loftiness of your pretensions, but allure 
 them to follow you by the sweetness and beauty of your life. 
 When you come to pray to God before the world, let a vene- 
 rable and sacred decorum preside over every look, every 
 word and every action ; beware, lest you cast upon the name 
 of religion the shadow of blame or reproach ; — give us that 
 piety which, while it excites feeling, commands respect ; and 
 then we will bear you record, that you have a zeal for God, 
 and that your zeal is according to knowledge. 
 • Zeal without knowledge is the most dangerous foundation 
 on which religious education can be built up ; for, where it 
 happens to be appHed to a naturally strong understanding, 
 that can detect, in after-life, the excesses into which it has 
 been hurried in early youth, it too often superinduces a per- 
 fect carelessness to all religion ; a revengeful levity, which 
 seems to atone to itself by indiscriminate scorn, for the follies 
 into which it has been betrayed by indiscriminate enthusiasm. 
 But bad as this is, it is not the worst evil which is to be 
 laid to the charge of enthusiasm ; the total destruction of hu- 
 man reason, the quenching of every faculty, the blotting out 
 of all mind, fatuity, folly, idiotism, are the evils which it too 
 often carries in its train. This is the spectacle at which 
 they should tremble who believe that religious feelings do not 
 require the control of reason, and the aid of sound instruction ; 
 the spectacle of a mind dead forever to all joy, without peace 
 or rest in the day or in the night, the victim of incurable, 
 hopeless madness. These are the proper warnings for those 
 who are tired with the moderation of the English Church, 
 who ask for something less calm, more vehement, and more 
 stimulating than they can meet with here. At this moment, 
 a thousand human creatures are chained to the earth, suffer- 
 
139 ON METHODISM. 
 
 ing, in imagination, all the torments of hell, and groaning 
 under the fancied vengeance of an angry God. What has 
 broken them down, and what is the cause of their great ruin ? 
 zeal without knowledge ; the violence of worship ; passions 
 let loose upon the most exalted of all objects ; utter contempt 
 of all moderation ; hatred and suspicion of the moderate ; a 
 dereliction of old, safe, and established worship ; a thirst for 
 novelty and noise ; a childish admiration of every bold and 
 loquacious pretender ; Methodism in every branch of its folly, 
 and in the fullest measure of its arrogance. 
 
 Perhaps this sect is come too late ; perhaps, in spite of their 
 incessant activity, it is not possible that mankind should again 
 fall very extensively under the dominion of enthusiasm ; in 
 the mean time, whatever be their ultimate and general suc- 
 cess, this will be the character of their immediate proselytes ; 
 they will have all who are broken down by the miseries of 
 the world, and who will fly to the drunkenness of enthusiasm, 
 as a cure for the pangs of sorrow ; they will have all men, 
 in whose mind fear predominates over hope; profligates, who 
 have exhausted the pleasures of life, will begin to blame 
 those pleasures enthusiastically, and to atone, by the corrup- 
 tion of their reason, for the corruption of their hearts. De- 
 signing hypocrites will sometimes join them, and throw a 
 mask of sanctity over the sordid impurities of their lives. It 
 will be a general receptacle for imbecility, fear, worn-out 
 debauchery, and designing fraud. It will nourish a scorn 
 for rehgion, produce a constant succession of scoffers, and so 
 blend the excesses of the human mind, upon religious sub- 
 jects, with its sound and serious efforts, that men, not caring 
 to disentangle the evil from the good, will cast both the evil 
 and the good away, and live in habitual carelessness for their 
 salvation. 
 
 But it is urged, in answer to this, that the Hves of these 
 men are good. Admit them to be so ; are there no good men 
 who are not enthusiasts ? Are there no men, deeply im- 
 pressed with the truth of the Gospel, who avoid all singularity, 
 party spirit, and display, in their obedience to that Gospel ? 
 Is there no such a thing as earnest, yet tranquil piety ? Is a 
 sound understanding really so incompatible with a pure heart, 
 that men must become spectacles and laughing stocks in this 
 world, before they consider themselves as fit for another, and 
 a better ? " I respect these people," says one of the greatest 
 
ON METHODISM. 129 
 
 ornaments of the English Church, (now no more.*) " I 
 respect them, because I beheve they are sincere, but I have 
 never been present at their worship, without saying to myself, 
 how different is this from the primitive purity and simplicity 
 of the Gospel." 
 
 It is possible to love a thing so ardently, and to covet it so 
 much, that we cease to be good judges of the means by 
 which it is to be attained, or preserved when it is attained. 
 We have in our church, and in theirs, one common object — 
 salvation, — the greatest that the mind can conceive, or the 
 passions covet. We will not believe, that an All- wise and 
 an Almighty being has made our eternal happiness to depend 
 upon the display of impetuous feeling, or the observance of 
 unmeaning trifles. We will bend our whole heart to the 
 Lord our God, and to the great author of our redemption ; 
 but we will do it with calm adoration, and with zeal accord- 
 ing to knowledge ; those habits may not impose, they may 
 not dazzle, they may not attract ; — but they are practical, 
 they are permanent, they will endure ; and, while a thousand 
 new sects are swelling into importance, from their extrava- 
 gance, and dissolving again, when that extravagance has lost 
 the charm of novelty, our ancient and venerable church, too 
 great, too wise, and too aged, for these popular arts, shall stand 
 the test of time, and gradually gather into her bosom, those 
 who can be wise as well as good ; who have an ardent zeal for 
 God, but a zeal according to knowledge, 
 
 * Dr. Paley, whose works have adorned, and whose low situation in the 
 Eflglish Church has disgraced the age in which he lived. 
 
SERMON XVIII 
 
 ON RICHES. 
 
 It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich 
 man to enter into the kingdom of God. — Mabk x. terse 25. 
 
 Without entering into the disputes to which this passage 
 has given hirth, or agitating the question of the propriety of 
 the translation, I shall construe it in a figurative sense, and 
 suppose it to mean, that it is difficult for a rich man to enter 
 into the kingdom of God ; that the temptations, consequent 
 upon great possessions, create a very serious obstacle to the 
 attainment of the principles and of the rewards of the Gospel. 
 
 To examine what those obstacles are, and to point out in 
 what manner they may be guarded against, will, I hope, not 
 prove an unprofitable subject for this day's discourse ; if, in 
 the progress of such discourse, I point out any pernicious 
 effects of wealth upon the moral and rehgious character, I 
 cannot, of course, mean to insinuate that such influence is 
 never counteracted, and such danger never repelled. — I am 
 speaking, not of fact, but of tendency, — not of those efl^ects 
 which always are produced, but ofHhose which in nature and 
 probability may be produced. 
 
 It is difficult for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of 
 God : — The first cause to be alleged for this difficulty is, that 
 he wants that important test of his own conduct, which is to 
 be gained from the conduct of his fellow-creatures towards 
 him ; he may be going far from the kingdom of God, on the 
 feet of pride, and over the spoils of injustice, without learning, 
 from the averted looks, and the alienated hearts of men, that 
 his ways are the ways of death. Wealth is apt to inspire a 
 kind of awe, which fashions every look, modulates every 
 
ON RICHES* 131 
 
 word, and influences every action ; — and this, not so much 
 from any view to interest, as from that imposing superiority, 
 exercised upon the imagination hy prosperous fortune, from 
 which it is extremely difficult for any man to emancipate 
 himself, who has not steadily accustomed his judgment to 
 measure his fellow-creatures by real, rather than artificial 
 distinctions, and to appeal from the capricious judgments of 
 the world to his own reflections, and to the clear and indis- 
 putable precepts of the Gospel. 
 
 The general presumption, indeed, which we are apt to 
 form, is, that the mischief is already done, that the rich man 
 has been accustomed to such flattering reception, such 
 gracious falsehoods, and such ingenious deceit ; that to treat 
 him justly, is to treat him harshly ; and, to defer to him only 
 in the proportion of his merit, is a violation of established 
 forms. No man feels it to be his duty to combat with the 
 gigantic errors of the world, and to exalt himself into a 
 champion of righteousness ; he leaves the state of society just 
 as he found it, and indolently contributes his quota of deceit^ 
 to make the life of a human being an huge falsehood from 
 the cradle to the tomb. It is this which speaks to Dives the 
 false history of his shameless and pampered life ;— here it 
 is, in the deceitful mirror of the human face, that he sees 
 the high gifts with which God has endowed him ; — and here 
 it is, in that mirror, so dreadfully just to guilty poverty, he 
 may come back, after he has trampled on every principle of 
 honour and justice, and see joy, and delight, and unbounded 
 hospitality, and unnumbered friends. Therefore, I say to 
 you, when you enter in among your fellows, in the pomp, 
 and plenitude of wealth, — when the meek eye of poverty 
 falls before you, — when all men hsten to your speech, and 
 the approving smile is ready to break forth on every brow,— - 
 then keep down your rising heart, and humble yourself before 
 your father who seeth in secret ; then fear very greatly for 
 your salvation ; then tremble more than Felix trembled ; then 
 remember that it is easier for a camel to go through the ey« 
 of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of 
 heaven. 
 
 The second reason why it is so difficult for a rich man to enter 
 into the kingdom of God is, that he loves the kingdom of the 
 world too well. Death is very terrible, says the son of Sirach, to 
 him who lives at ease in his possessions ; and in truth the plea- 
 sure of Hfe does, in a great measure, depend upon the lot which 
 
132 ON RICHES. 
 
 we draw, and the heritage which we enjoy ; it may be urged, 
 that a person who knows no other situation, wishes no other ; 
 and that the boundary of his experience is the boundary of 
 his desire. This would be true enough if we did not derive 
 our notions of happiness and misery from a wider range of 
 observation than our own destiny can afford ; I will not speak 
 of great misfortunes, for such instances prove but too clearly, 
 how much the love of life depends on the enjoyment it affords ; 
 "-—but a man who is the eternal prey of sohcitude, wishes 
 for the closing of the scene ; a constant, cheerless struggle 
 with little miseries, will dim the sun, and wither the green 
 herb, and taint the fresh wind ; — he will cry out, let me 
 depart, — he will count his gray hairs with joy, and one day 
 will seem unto him as many. Those who are not reminded 
 of the wretchedness of human existence by such reflections 
 as these, who are born to luxury and respect, and sheltered 
 from the various perils of poverty, begin to forget the preca- 
 rious tenure of worldly enjoyments, and to build sumptuously 
 on the sand ; they put their trust (as the Psalmist says), in 
 chariots and horses, and dream they shall live for ever in 
 those palaces which are but the out-houses of the grave. 
 There are very few men, in fact, who are capable of with- 
 standing the constant effect of artificial distinctions ; it is diffi- 
 cult to live upon a throne, and to think of a tomb ; it is diffi- 
 cult to be clothed in splendour, and to remember we are dust ; 
 it is difficult for the rich and the prosperous to keep their 
 hearts as a burning coal upon the altar, and to humble them- 
 selves before God as they rise before men. In the mean- 
 time, while pride gathers in the heart, the angel is ever 
 writing in the book, and wrath is ever mantling in the cup ; 
 complain not in the season of woe, that you are parched with 
 thirst ; ask not for water, as Dives asked you have a warn- 
 ing which he never had. There stand the ever memorable 
 words of the text, which break down the stateliness of man, 
 and dissipate the pageantry of the earth : — thus it is that the 
 few words of a God can make the purple of the world appear 
 less beautiful than the mean garments of a beggar, and strik- 
 ing terror into the hearts of rulers and of exarchs, turn the ban- 
 ners of dominion to the ensigns of death, and make them 
 shudder at the sceptre which they wield. To-day, you are 
 clothed in fine hnen, and fare sumptuously ; in a few, and 
 evil years, they shall hew you out a tomb of marble, whiter 
 than snow, and the cunning artifice of the workman shall 
 
ON^RICHES. 133 
 
 grave on it weeping angels, and make a delicate image of 
 one fleeing up to heaven, as if it were thee, and shall relate 
 in golden letters, the long story of your honours and your 
 birth, — thou fool ! ! He that dieth by the road side for the 
 lack of a morsel of bread, God loveth him as well as he loveth 
 thee ; and at the gates of heaven, and from the blessed angels 
 thou shalt learn, that it is easier for a camel to go through the 
 eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom 
 of heaven. 
 
 Another fatal effect of great wealth is, that it is apt to harden 
 the heart ; wealth gives power ; power produces immediate 
 gratification; the long habit of immediate gratification, an 
 impatience of unpleasant feelings ; a claim to be exempted 
 from the contemplation of human misery, of everything cal- 
 culated to inspire gloom, to pollute enjoyment, and protrude 
 a sense of painful duties ; the compassion with which pros- 
 perous men are born in common with us all, is never cher- 
 ished by a participation in the common suffering, a share in 
 the general struggle ; it wants that sense of the difficulty and 
 wretchedness of existence, by which we obtain the best mea- 
 sure of the sufferings of our fellow-creatures. We talk of 
 human life as a journey, but how variously is that journey 
 performed ? there are some who come forth girt, and shod, 
 and mantled, to walk on velvet lawns, and smooth terraces, 
 where every gale is arrested, and every beam is tempered ; 
 there are others who walk on the alpine paths of life, against 
 driving misery, and through stormy sorrows ; and over sharp 
 afflictions, walk with bare feet and naked breast, jaded, man- 
 gled, and chilled. It is easy enough to talk of misfortunes ; 
 that they exist, no man can be ignorant ; it is not the bare 
 knowledge of them that is wanting, but that pungent, vital 
 commiseration, under the influence of which a man springs 
 up from the comforts of his home, deserts his favourite occu- 
 pations, toils, invents, investigates, struggles, wades through 
 perplexity, disappointment, and disgust, to save a human 
 being from shame, poverty and destruction : here then is the 
 jet, and object of our blessed Saviour's menace ; and reason- 
 able enough it is that he who practically withdraws himself 
 from the great Christian community of benevolence, should 
 be cut ofl^from the blessings of Christian reward. If we suf- 
 fer ourselves to be so infatuated by the enjoyments of this 
 world, as to forget the imperious claims of affliction, and to 
 render our minds, from the long habit of selfish gratification, 
 
134 ON RICHES. 
 
 incapable of fulfilling the duties we owe to mankind, then 
 let us not repine, that our lot ceases in this world, or that the 
 rich man shall never inherit immortal life. 
 
 As to that confidence and pride of which riches are too 
 often the source, what can the constitution of that mind be, 
 which has formed these notions of divine wisdom and justice? 
 Was this inequality of possessions contrived for the more 
 solid establishment of human happiness, that there might be 
 gradation and subordination among men ? or was it instituted 
 to give an arbitrary and useless superiority of one human 
 being over another ? Are any duties exacted for the good 
 conferred ? or was a rich man only born to sleep quietly, to 
 fare sumptuously, and to be clothed in brave apparel ? Has 
 he, who does not create a particle of dust but it has its use, 
 has he, do you imagine, formed one human being merely as 
 a receptacle of choice fruits and delicate viands ; and has he 
 stationed a thousand others about him, of the same flesh and 
 blood, that they might pick up the crumbs of his table, and 
 gratify the wishes of his heart? No man is mad enough to 
 acknowledge such an opinion ; but many enjoy wealth as if 
 they had no other notion respecting it than that they were to 
 extract from it the greatest enjoyment possible, to eat and drink 
 to-day, and to mock at the threatened death of to-morrow. 
 
 The command of our Saviour to the rich man, was, go thy 
 way quickly, sell all thou hast, divide it among the poor, and 
 take up thy cross and follow me ; but this precept of our 
 blessed Lord's, as it was intended only for the interests of 
 the Gospel, and the state of the world at that period, cannot 
 be considered as applicable to the present condition of man- 
 kind ; to preach such exalted doctrine in these latter days, 
 would, I am afraid, at best be useless ; our object is to seek 
 for some fair medium between selfishness and enthusiasm. 
 If something of great possessions be dedicated to inspire 
 respect, and preserve the gradations of society, a part to the 
 real wants, a little to the ornaments and superfluities of life, 
 a little even to the infirmities of the possessor, how much 
 will remain for the unhappy, who ask only a preference over 
 vicious pleasure, disgraceful excess, and idle ostentation. 
 
 Neither is it to objects only of individual misery, that the 
 application of wealth is to be confined ; whatever has for its 
 object to enlarge human knowledge, or to propagate moral 
 and religious principle ; whatever may afl^ect immediately, 
 or remotely, directly, or indirectly, the public happiness, 
 
ON RICHES. 135 
 
 may add to the comforts, repress the crimes, or animate the 
 virtues of social life ; to every sacred claim of this nature, 
 che appetite for frivolous pleasure, and the passion for frivo- 
 lous display, must impHcitly yield : if the minulisB of indi- 
 vidual charity present an object too inconsiderable for a capa- 
 cious mind, there are vast asylums for sickness and want, 
 which invite your aid ; breathe among their sad inhabitants 
 the spirit of consolation and order, give to them wiser ar- 
 rangements and. wider limits, prepare shelter for unborn 
 wretchedness, and medicine for future disease ; give oppor- 
 tunity to talents, and scope to goodness ; go among the mul- 
 titude, and see if you can drag from the oblivious heap some 
 child of God, some gift of heaven, whose mind can burst 
 through the secrets of nature, and influence the destiny of 
 man. This is the dignified and religious use of riches, which, 
 when they cherish boyish pride, to minister to selfish plea- 
 sure, shall verily doom their possessor to the flames of hell.— • 
 But he who knows wherefore God has given him great pos- 
 sessions, he shall die the death of Lazarus, without leading 
 his hfe, and rest in the bosom of Abraham, though he never 
 stretched forth his wounds to the dogs, nor gathered up the 
 crumbs of the table for his food. 
 
 The best mode of guarding against that indirect flattery, 
 which is always paid to wealth, is to impress the mind with 
 a thorough belief of the fact; and to guard by increased in- 
 ward humility against the danger of corruption from without. 
 The wealthy man who attributes to himself great or good 
 qualities, from what he conceives to be the opinion of the 
 world, exposes himself to dangerous errors; on the most im- 
 portant of all subjects, this source of self-judgment is for him 
 most effectually poisoned ; he must receive such evidence 
 with the utmost distrust, weigh every circumstance with 
 caution, court animadversion and friendly candour, and che- 
 rish the man by whose poHshed justice his feelings are con- 
 sulted, while his follies are repressed. 
 
 For the pride which is contracted by the contemplation of 
 little things, there is no better cure than the contemplation of 
 great things. Let a rich man turn from his own pompous lit- 
 tleness, and think of heaven, of eternity, and of salvation ; let 
 him think of all the nations that lie dead in the dust, waiting 
 for the trumpet of God ; he will smile at his own brief autho- 
 rity, and be as one lifted up to an high eminence, to whom 
 the gorgeous palaces of the world are the specks and atoms 
 
136 ON RICHES. 
 
 of the eye ; the great laws of nature pursue their eternal 
 course, and heed not the frail distinctions of this life ; the fever 
 spares not the rich and the great; the tempest does not pass 
 by them ; they are racked by pain, they are weakened by 
 disease, they are broken by old age, they are agonized in 
 death like other men, they moulder in the tomb, they differ 
 only from other men in this, that God will call them to a more 
 severe account, that they must come before him with deeds 
 of Christian charity and acts of righteousness, equal to all the 
 opportunities and blessings which they have enjoyed. 
 
 Let the rich man then remember in the midst of his en- 
 joyments, by what slight tenure those enjoyments are held. 
 In addition to the common doubt which hangs over the 
 life of all men, fresh perils lay hid in his pleasures, and the 
 very object for which he lives may be the first to terminate 
 his existence. " Remember thou art mortal," was said every 
 day to a great king. So, after the same fashion I would that 
 a man of great possessions should frequently remember the 
 end of all things, and the long home, and the sleeping place 
 of a span in breadth ; I would have him go from under the 
 gilded dome down to the place where they will gather him 
 to the bones of his fathers ; he should tread in the dust of the 
 noble, and trample on the ashes of the proud ; I would heap 
 before him sights of woe and images of death and terror ; I 
 would break down his stateliness and humble him before his 
 Redeemer and his judge. My voice should ever sound in 
 his ears, that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of 
 a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of 
 heaven. 
 
SERMON XIX. 
 ON SWEARING. 
 
 Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain, for the Lord 
 vsrill not hold him guiltless who taketh his name in vain. — Exodus xx. 
 
 VERSE 7. *;^ 
 
 While we are guarded against great and daring crimes, 
 by the disgust which their enormity excites, we remain ex- 
 posed to the lesser vices, because we consider them as too un- 
 important for our care, and in this manner they gain a vic- 
 tory by our negligence, which they never could obtain from 
 their own power. 
 
 Indeed, against the greater crimes Almighty God has placed 
 a powerful safeguard in the admonitions of conscience which 
 they awaken ; but when we come from crimes against feel- 
 ing, to crimes against reason, the danger is greater because 
 the warning is less ; and here we must owe to the instruction 
 of others, and to self-examination, that innocence which we 
 derive, on other occasions, from the loud and irresistible cries 
 of nature. 
 
 Thou shalt not take the Lord's name in vain. To use the 
 Lord's name in vain, is to use it on any occasion, except 
 when called upon by the laws of our country, to offer that 
 solemn pledge for the truth of what we say. But the misfor- 
 tune is, we do not deem it in vain, if the object on which we 
 employ it is of importance to us, and to us alone. We do not 
 think it in vain to call down God, armed with all his terrors, 
 upon any accident which disturbs the cheerfulness of our 
 Jives ; we think that obedient Heaven is always ready to 
 avenge our wrongs, and that the Deity is ever watchful to 
 bless those whom we bless and curse those whom we curse. 
 We make use of God's name to exasperate the violence of 
 
 12* 
 
138 ON SWEARING. 
 
 our own foolish passions, and to sharpen the edge of those 
 trifling vexations, which are entailed upon us all, in our pas- 
 sage through the world. 
 
 It may not, perhaps, be quite clear where the great danger 
 of using the name of God upon common occasions can be : 
 the danger (and a very serious one it is) is this, that we fa- 
 miharize ourselves too much with that awful name ; — that the 
 humble reverence, with which it should always be thought 
 of and pronounced, be exchanged for confidence and bold- 
 ness ; — that, having broken through the pales of the altar, we 
 approach to the sanctuary itself; — that, having accustomed 
 ourselves to talk of God without fear, we break through his 
 laws without hesitation ; and end with bad actions after we 
 have begun with impious words. 
 
 These outworks and fences of religion are of the most 
 sacred importance ; — no man breaks out at once into great 
 vices ; no man is of a sudden notoriously wicked; but he be- 
 gins with little faults, — he abstains from public worship, — he 
 loses gradually the awful remembrance of his Creator, — he 
 accustoms himself to call upon his name on the most trifling 
 occasions ; and then after such beginnings, foolishly imagines 
 he can stop just where he pleases. He who breaks through the 
 outward wall will soon come into the inner dwelling ; this law 
 is one of the strong barriers of true piety ; — ^beware how you 
 break it down ; — think much before you pronounce the name 
 of God ; — and you will think much more before you disobey his 
 word.' — Hallow that name with an holy fear, and you will not 
 trample on the laws which that holy name sanctions. Let 
 all your words be yea and nay ; and that will be some secu- 
 rity that your actions are pure and irreproachable as your lan- 
 guage. 
 
 The only excuse which worldly-minded men can set up 
 for sin is pleasure ; the present temptation is too strong ; the 
 sense of future evil too faint and too remote ; but who will 
 assert, that there is any pleasure in an oath ? — Or that in the 
 whole extent of language, the only words capable of commu- 
 nicating satisfaction, are those which are not only coarse and 
 vulgar, but shocking : not only shocking, but irrehgious, blas- 
 phemous, and bad. To take the Lord's name in vain, is to 
 incur guilt without delight ; and to violate a solemn command- 
 ment of God, merely that every one who hears us may con- 
 ceive a low opinion of our manners, our education, and our 
 understanding. 
 
ON SWEARING. 130 
 
 It is with small vices as with trifling complaints of the 
 body; they become dangerous, only because they are ne- 
 glected. From the age of innocence, when we look at the 
 extremes of human depravity, the distance appears immense ; 
 we say, there is a great gulf between us ; — my soul can 
 never be darkened with such crimes as these; I shall go 
 down to my grave in innocence and peace. — In the mean 
 time, the descent from one step to another is short, and gentle, 
 and we arrive at the distant goal, betrayed by the artful 
 transition. We should take up the task of amendment, 
 where it is most Hkely to be attended with success ; to 
 struggle with great vices is always difficult, sometimes, I am 
 afraid, hopeless ; in checking the vice of swearing, we are 
 destroying the seeds of unrighteousness, and cherishing that 
 feeling of sanctity which is the parent of every good ; here- 
 after, when our religious feelings are blunted and worn away, 
 when our minds are prepared for the reception of every vice, 
 we shall find it too late to keep holy the name of the Lord our 
 God ; — too late to remember, that they are not guiltless who 
 take his name in vain. 
 
 Whatever rules any man may choose to apply to himself, 
 he will not deny, that it is his duty to watch, with the most 
 pious care, the first appearances of this dangerous vice in the 
 minds of children ; that a young person at least, should be 
 taught never to pronounce the name of God, but with feelings 
 of pious gratitude, and unbounded veneration; never, without 
 remembering that God breathed into him the breath of life ; 
 that, at his will, that breath still hangs in his nostrils ; that 
 in a moment, his soul may be taken from him ; and that he 
 may be called before the throne of that being, whose power 
 nothing can resist ; and from whose wisdom nothing remains 
 concealed. The youth who has these feelings, is safe from 
 all flagrant and enormous crimes ; in the moment of tempta- 
 tion, he flies to them as to the horns of the altar ; and, in the 
 day of his adversity, they are his stony rock, his buckler, 
 and his shield. 
 
 It is very striking, in our perusal of the Scriptures, to 
 remark the awful manner in which the name of God is men- 
 tioned ; and the noble images and allusions with which it 
 is surrounded and hallowed : Moses says, that it is eternal, 
 everlasting, not to be changed. Solomon calls it the frontlet 
 to his eyes; Isaiah says it is the tower of his heart. — Zecha- 
 riah calls it a wall of fire. — Joel, and Amos, and Haggai, say 
 
140 ON SWEARING. 
 
 it is a miracle, and a glory, and a burning light. Prophets, 
 lawgivers, and sacred kings bless it; the worst only, and the 
 lowest of men, revile it, and trample it in the dust. This is 
 the way that common minds speak of the first and great 
 cause of all ; but David says, that when he called upon God, 
 the earth shook, and trembled ; that the very foundations of 
 the hills were shaken. " He bowed the Heavens, and came 
 down ; darkness was under his feet ; he rode upon a cheru- 
 bin ; — he did fly upon the wings of the wind ; he made dark- 
 ness his secret place ; his pavilion round about him was dark 
 waters, and thick clouds of the skies. The Lord also thun- 
 dered in the Heavens, and the highest gave his voice. Then 
 the channels of waters were seen, and the foundations of the 
 world were discovered. At thy rebuke, oh God ; at the blast 
 of the breath of thy nostrils." — This is not mere imagination, 
 but wise and instructive piety ; the loftiest flight, and the 
 boldest epithet have their use ; whatever exalts the Deity, 
 enforces obedience to his laws ; whatever degrades his name, 
 renders it more probable, that his commandments will not be 
 observed. 
 
 It is a vast advantage to keep in the heart a pure image to 
 look at, — something which is free from every stain of mortal 
 frailty ; and Avhich we may follow, though at a distance im- 
 measurable, and imitate, though in dimness and obscurity ; 
 for this reason, the thought of God is to be fenced about with 
 every care ; it is not to be called forth for the purposes of 
 any evil passion, or to gratify rash intemperance, or to give 
 dignity to insignificance. It is to be reserved for stupendous 
 affliction, poured forth in eminent distress, appealed to before 
 grave tribunals, and pronounced with solemn devotion, when 
 the dearest interests of mankind are at stake. God has given 
 us his name as a support to human laws, as a security to 
 human happiness ; it is so great and serious a possession, 
 the use of it is of such vast importance, that the law takes it 
 to itself, and pronounces it to be an offence against the public 
 to use it, but in prayer. And the law does this very justly, 
 reasoning after this manner ; that by the use of God's name 
 contracts are ratified ; by that pledge, men bind themselves 
 to the performance of high duties ; recompense is awarded ; 
 and crimes are punished. From a confidence that the name 
 of God will not be taken in vain ; so to take it, is to weaken 
 one of the props on which human happiness is placed ; is to 
 accustom yourself and others to the irreverent use of that 
 
ON SWEARING. 141 
 
 name, upon the reverent use of which the administration of 
 justice intimately depends. It is in this very manner that 
 our Saviour preaches it, not only forbidding perjury, but for- 
 bidding that habit of appealing carelessly to sacred things, 
 which lays the foundation for a breach of oaths. " Ye have 
 heard how it hath been said by them of old time, thou shalt 
 not forswear thyself;' — but I say unto you, swear not at all, 
 neither by Heaven, for it is God's throne, nor by the earth, 
 for it is his footstool, nor by Jerusalem, for it is the city of 
 the great king ; but let your communication be yea, and nay, 
 for whatsoever is more than these, cometh of evil." 
 
 It is pleasant to remember, that no man can cultivate any 
 one virtue, without cultivating others at the same time ; now, 
 to watch carefully over the use we make of the name of 
 God, and to beware that we do not misuse it, even in the 
 strongest paroxysm of violence, induces a turn of mind, which 
 is extremely favourable to the government of our evil nature ; 
 for it is not probable that he, who is striving not to offend 
 against one commandment of God, should at that very mo- 
 ment offend against another ; the same awful feeling which 
 prevents him from blaspheming against the name of God, may 
 curb anger, soften hatred, and produce a general spirit of 
 pious moderation. To conclude ; which of all those crimes 
 prescribed in the decalogue is the greatest, we know not ; 
 as they are all equally forbidden, they are, probably, all 
 equally heinous : — there cannot, therefore, be a doubt, which, 
 in a religious point of view, it is the greatest folly to commit ; 
 for, to the violation of the name of God, there is no natural 
 impulse, nor is any great enjoyment the consequence of it ; 
 for though it may be difficult sometimes not to do it, there is 
 no sort of pleasure in doing it, nor is it a vice by which 
 anything is gained, but the disreputation and disgrace. In 
 the meantime, it is as dangerous in its consequences as if 
 it were agreeable in itself; it weakens the obligation of oaths, 
 destroys the delicacy of religious feeling, and makes all those 
 thoughts common, which should be reserved for the great 
 changes and chances of life. He, therefore, who blasphemes 
 out of these walls, will pray within them to little purpose ; 
 and, whatever be the effusions of his heart, when the world 
 are not by, his open profanations will not be forgotten, nor. 
 will God hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain. 
 
.1^ ' >?^i 
 
 SERMON XX 
 
 ON MEEKNESS. 
 
 The ornament of a meek and quiet spirit is in the sight of God of a great 
 price. — First Epistle of Peter hi. verse 4. 
 
 The meekness of the Gospel has been so far mistaken by 
 one sect of Christians, that they have erroneously interpreted 
 it to mean passive submission to violence and injury; a 
 principle which operates as an incitement to many bad pas- 
 sions, by leaving to them their undisputed reward, and urges 
 us to abandon those salutary means of defence, implanted by 
 nature for the encouragement of justice, and the due order of 
 the world. 
 
 That all men should cease to resist, would be of very Httle 
 importance unless all men were to cease to attack ; for, other- 
 wise, such a system would be merely the extinction of all 
 rights, and the quiet toleration of every wrong. On the con- 
 trary, if the object be to diminish, as much as possible, the 
 quantity of evil in the universe, and if its sudden destruction 
 be impossible, it is much better to render vice and violence 
 unsuccessful in their object, by that calm yet vigilant resist- 
 ance which is more desirous of preventing future than re- 
 venging past aggression. 
 
 As I cannot, for these reasons believe, that the meekness of 
 the Gospel is pusillanimity, I cannot allow it any more to be 
 error; it cannot consist in an undue depreciation of ourselves, 
 or an ignorance of any one superiority we may chance to 
 possess over our fellow-creatures ; the Gospel never teaches 
 ignorance; it stimulates man to the study of himself as the 
 best of all wisdom ; it permits him to discover the rank which 
 God has assigned to him; but threatens him with omnipotent 
 anger, if he turns the gifts of the Creator to the scorn and 
 
ON MEEKNESS. 143 
 
 oppression of the creature, and when he feels the pride of 
 talents or of power ; the Scriptures unveil to him the glory of 
 God, and tell him of the days of the life of man, that they 
 are few and evil ; and that when the breath of his nostrils is 
 gone, he returneth again to his dust. 
 
 Christian meekness is neither ignorance nor pusillanimity ; 
 but the meekness of the Gospel, so far as it is concerned in 
 the vindication of its own rights, vindicates them only when 
 they are of considerable importance. Nothing more distant 
 from the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit than the inces- 
 sant and scrupulous vindication of minute rights, and an 
 avidity for litigation and contest ; a meek man will cede much, 
 and before he vindicates a right, or resents an injury, will 
 consider if that for which he contends is worth the price of 
 peace, not only if it be an object for which justice will permit 
 him to struggle, but one which prudence forbids him to re- 
 linquish ; he will pass over many trifling wrongs, forgive 
 slight injuries as the natural and inevitable consequences of 
 the imperfect morality of man; he will subdue malice by 
 openness and benignity ; turn away wrath by soft answers ; 
 disarm hostility by patience ; and endure much for the Gospel, 
 that he may gain the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, 
 which, in the sight of God, is of a great price. 
 
 Evangelical meekness is never more exemplified than in 
 the proper management of superior talents, so as to make 
 them rather a source of pleasure and encouragement than of 
 apprehension to those with whom we live. The same ob- 
 servation applies equally to superior rank, superior birth, and 
 every species of artificial as well as natural distinction ; meek- 
 ness softens down the distance between man and man, sweet- 
 ens the malevolent passions which it is apt to excite, and is 
 so far from diminishing subordination, that it strengthens it 
 by converting a duty into a pleasure. For mankind are at 
 the bottom, perhaps well aware that they must be governed, 
 and the obedience of men may be raised into a species of idola- 
 try, when those who could command them court them ; and 
 when they find the garb of power laid aside on purpose to 
 give pleasure, and diffuse the cheerfulness and confidence of 
 equality. The true meekness of the Gospel, therefore, is 
 powerfully evinced in the suppression of any superiority that 
 may be painful and oppressive, by informing rather than ex- 
 posing the ignorant ; by raising up the humble and judiciously 
 bringing forward to notice those whose merits are obscured 
 
144 ON MEEKNESS. 
 
 by their apprehensions; Christianity is not confined to 
 churches and to hospitals ; to houses of mourning or of prayer; 
 but it penetrates every situation, and it decorates every rela- 
 tion of life ; the ornament of a meek and a quiet spirit may be 
 worn amidst worldly joys without diminishing them. We 
 may be near to God, when we seem the most distant from 
 him, and offer up a sacrifice of meekness that shall be as 
 pleasant as a prayer in the temple. 
 
 It is not only unchristian, but it is unworthy and little to 
 thrust forward every pretension to notice ; — to blazen our- 
 selves over with the arms and insignia of our merits, and to 
 be perpetually occupied with putting the rest of the world in 
 mind of their inferiority ; — greatness is, then, infinitely at- 
 tractive, when it seems unconscious of itself; when it is de- 
 tected by others ; not when it publishes and praises its own 
 importance ; — when it is called forth by the chances of the 
 world to eminence and light ; and is unconscious of the wonder 
 amid the praises and acclamations of mankind. 
 
 A meek man does not exact minute and constant attentions 
 from his fellow-creatures ; he is not apt to form an exaggerated 
 estimate of the duties which are owing to him ; — he is grate- 
 ful for little services, and affectionate for any slight mark of 
 notice and respect ; — he attributes every act of benevolence, 
 not to his own merits, but to yours ; — he is thankful for what 
 has been conferred, without being incensed that more has 
 been withheld. To give to the meek is to lend to that 
 Saviour whom they imitate ; is to confer favours upon a man 
 who is ever ready to repay them seven fold, because his me- 
 mory of them is tenacious and his gratitude lively : his spirit 
 burns with a consuming fire, till he can make the soul of his 
 benefactor leap with joy. 
 
 On the contrary, the most obliging disposition cannot keep 
 pace with the pretensions of a proud man. The most ar- 
 duous efforts to promote his interests, he considers as so many 
 duties owing to his merits ; no sacrifice is too humble, no con- 
 cession too flattering, no negligence venial, no momentary 
 remission of benevolent exertion to be endured ; — whatever 
 you confer you lose, for whatever you are deficient you suffer ; 
 it is a service abundant in punishment, and utterly barren of 
 reward. 
 
 If a meek man hides his own superiority, he is ever ready 
 to do justice to the pretensions of others ; the weak, the ab- 
 sent and the defenceless feel safe in his judgments ; they are 
 
ON MEEKNESS. 14S 
 
 sure not to be tortured by asperity of speech, malignantly 
 calumniated or sacrificed to unprincipled ridicule; — their 
 virtues and excellent qualities he is ever ready to acknow- 
 ledge, because he has no motive to suppress them, — his jus- 
 tice gives us ease, his innocence security, — we repose on 
 such a Christian character, — it is the shadow of a large rock 
 in a weary land ; we cast ourselves under it for refreshment, 
 and peace, weary with the dust, and the heat, and the panting 
 Of life. 
 
 As man advances in civilization, the feelings of his mind 
 become so vulnerable and acute, that severity of invective, 
 the mere power of inculpative words becomes more intolera- 
 ble than bodily pain, or any evil that fortune can impose. 
 The intemperate expressions of anger i"nflict wounds which 
 are never healed for a life, and lay the foundation of animo- 
 sities which no subsequent conciliation can ever appease. 
 The tongue of a meek Christian is held with a bridle ; — his 
 words are yea and nay, righteous, temperate, beautiful and 
 calm; — remonstrance without bitterness, — firmness without 
 passion, — pardon without reproach; — he has not to lament 
 that disgraceful and unchristian violence of speech which 
 often excites as much remorse in those who indulge it, as in- 
 dignation in those against whom it is directed, a virulence 
 often used with as much freedom as if men were proper and 
 candid judges of their own injuries, and with as much force 
 as if every slight injury against ourselves canceled all the 
 rights of humanity towards its author, and marked him out as 
 the fit victim of impure and unbridled invective. 
 
 The meek disciple of him who was the meekest of all, is 
 strongly impressed with the vanity andunworthiness of every- 
 thing human; in whatever station he may place himself, 
 relative to his fellow-creatures, he cannot deduce materials 
 for pride, for he deems that the highest are low, and the 
 strongest frail, and the earth an idle dream ; while vulgar 
 pride attaches the highest degree of importance to every- 
 thing, however distantly and minutely related to itself; 
 meekness, in viewing itself, and the earth upon which it is 
 placed, trembles at the attributes, and the works of God, and 
 wonders that it should be remembered amidst the labyrinth 
 of moving worlds. 
 
 It subdues high-mindedness by reflecting on the ignorance 
 with which human schemes are planned,— the casualties by 
 which they are interrupted, the unexpected consequences by 
 13 
 
146 ON MEEKNESS. 
 
 which they are followed, — and the shortness of life by which 
 they are frustrated, dissipated, and mocked. This view of 
 the insignificance of life, intended for the cure of pride, may, 
 by abuse and misapplication, encourage levity and inactiv- 
 ity ; we are not to be careless in the government of our- 
 selves, and in the adjustment of our conduct, because this 
 world, contrasted with the sum of things, is insignificant ; and 
 to pass through life in boisterous merriment, or supine indif- 
 ference, because life is short ; — this world, so insignificant, is 
 the world in which we are destined to act, this life so short, 
 is all that is granted us for probation ; its narrow Hmits, its 
 feeble powers, and its sad vicissitudes, cannot justify sloth or 
 despair, though they ought to subdue pride, and to promote 
 that ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is so con- 
 genial to the Gospel, and so well adapted to the condition of 
 man. 
 
 The absence of this meekness produces a false estimation 
 of life, and gives birth to many follies and some vices ; a 
 proud man is, in his own eyes, the best and greatest work of 
 God ; the most trivial circumstance which relates to himself, 
 is of more importance than the happiness or misery of a 
 province ; as often as he condescends to mention them, 
 he exacts the most lively and watchful sympathy to the 
 minutest of his pleasures and his pains : as he is every- 
 thing to himself, he expects he should be everything to you ; 
 he not only confines his thoughts to this world, but to that 
 particular atom of it which he is ; whether this atom be hot, 
 or cold, or moist, or dry, or joyful, or sad ; these are the 
 principles which, in his estimation, should diffuse joy or 
 sadness over the creation, and regulate the sum of things. 
 
 Placability is a common attribute of the character described 
 in my text : whoever thinks humbly of himself, will not be 
 prone to conceive the injuries he experiences, as too atro- 
 cious for pardon, too enormous to be washed away with tears, 
 or atoned for by contrition ; perhaps he who has suflfered the 
 injury, has in some measure caused it ; perhaps, under similar 
 circumstances, he might have inflicted it ; he has done as 
 much before to others ; he may do as much again ; his trans- 
 gressions against God are innumerable ; he is placed, for a 
 few years, among frail beings, of a mixed and fluctuating 
 nature, himself as frail as they ; why judge as he would fear 
 to be judged ? why make a life of suffering a life of wrath ? 
 why exhibit the spectacle of remorseless insignificance ? 
 
ON MEEKNESS. 147 
 
 these are the considerations which dispose a quiet and humble 
 mind to the forgiveness of injuries, and increasing benevolence 
 in the world, promote the mild and merciful purposes of the 
 Gospel. 
 
 The last characteristic of meekness, which I shall specify, 
 is long suffering, — patience for the weaknesses and trans- 
 gressions of others as far as wisdom will permit ; something 
 opposed to irascibihty and quickness of resentment. And 
 this is not mere facility of temper which prefers any endur- 
 ance, however great, to any opposition however slight ; but 
 a conviction that forbearance often does more than violence ; 
 that men are never more grateful than when they come 
 afterwards to discover that their errors and offences have 
 been borne with affectionate patience, from the hope of future 
 amendment. It is from meekness alone, that the most com- 
 plete and lasting penitence is produced ; that which proceeds 
 not from the reproaches and the punishments of others, but 
 from the reproaches which he who has offended makes to 
 himself; that which a bad son feels at the speechless grief of 
 his mother ; or an ungrateful friend at the silent melancholy 
 of his benefactor ; or a false disciple at the sight of his mas- 
 ter. — Thus the fugitive apostle, whom anger might have 
 hardened, was subdued by the meekness of Christ, — " and 
 Jesus looked upon him, and straightway Peter went out, and 
 wept bitterly." 
 
 Having thus expressed some clear and definite notions of 
 what meekness is, it shall be my care, on some future occa- 
 sion, to point out the pleasures which result from this orna- 
 ment of a meek and a quiet spirit, and the expedients which 
 suggest themselves for the subjugation of those passions which 
 are unfriendly to its attainment ; for it is ever our duty to 
 promote the fruit of the spirit, which are joy, and peace, and 
 rest ; it has pleased God to try us here, with divers diseases, 
 and sundry kinds of death ; these we cannot strive with, and 
 when God calls them away, we must part with children, and 
 we must often bear miserable wants and sorrows ; but these 
 are enough ; let us not pour fresh bitterness into the bitter 
 cup of life : — A little while and we shall be gone hence and 
 be no more seen; till then, peace, forgiveness of injuries and 
 tenderness to the infirmities of man. We may thus catch a 
 few moments from the inclemency of fate, and open in our 
 hearts those springs of love and mercy which will flow on 
 till they are swallowed up by the grave. 
 
v^nm^^ 
 
 SEEM ON XXI. 
 
 ON THE MODE OF PASSING THE 
 SABBATH. 
 
 And it came to pass that he went through the corn fields on the Sabbath 
 day, and his disciples began to pluck the ears of corn. And the Pharisees 
 said unto him, behold, why do they, on the Sabbath day, that which is 
 not lawful ; and he said unto them, the Sabbath was made for man, not 
 man for the Sabbath. — Mark ii. verses 23, 24, 27. 
 
 As the Sabbath day is of divine institution, we are bound 
 to keep it holy ; and we should have been equally bound to 
 have done so, if we were unable to discover the reasons for 
 which its sanctification was ordained ; but the reasons for the 
 law, and its utility, are so far from doubtful, that it probably 
 would have originated with man, if it had not been commanded 
 by his Creator ; and the weary nations would have found a 
 Sabbath for their toils, unhallowed by the structure of the 
 globe, and by the rest of God. 
 
 The great importance of the Sabbath, not only for the pro- 
 motion of righteousness, but even for our mere temporal 
 welfare, is too generally admitted to need much discussion. 
 If the duties of religion were left to be performed by every 
 one, at the time, and after the manner they thought best, 
 there would be a considerable risk that they were not per- 
 formed at all. The public, and periodical exercise of worship, 
 is the best security for sound doctrine ; the teachers of religion 
 teach openly to the world, and artifice, fanaticism, and cre- 
 dulity, which begin always in obscurity, are subjected to the 
 wholesome restraint of public opinion. We are so absorbed, 
 also, in the business, the pleasure, and the vanities, of this 
 world, that the recollection of any other, would, but for the 
 institution of the Sabbath, be very soon obliterated. It is 
 
ON THE MODE of' PASSING THE SABBATH. 149 
 
 absolutely necessary that the chain of our ideas should be 
 broken, and a new system of reflections introduced ; the 
 cessation of business and amusement, the quiet of the Sab- 
 bath, the unusual appearance of objects, the solemnity of 
 manner and deportment, observable on this day, have all 
 some little tendency to rouse the most thoughtless, to awe the 
 most profligate into a sense of duty, and to inspire feelings 
 of contrition and remorse. The remembrance of youthful 
 feelings has ever a strong influence on the minds of men ; 
 those who have been brought up, when young, in a pious 
 observance of the Sabbath, to whom religious instruction has 
 been rendered pleasant by sweetness of manner and dexterity 
 of management, can never meet the Sabbath without experi- 
 encing, in some small degree, the same interesting feelings ; 
 and when they have tried in vain the pleasures of sin, and 
 found (as I firmly believe every man must find,) that happi- 
 ness is derived only from that righteousness which the Gospel 
 of Christ prescribes, they will return to the Sabbath, and 
 seek from the calm sanctity of that day, the pure enjoyments 
 of their youth. 
 
 The importance of the Sabbath admitted, the first question 
 arising from the subject concerns the best method of passing 
 it. The rule our Saviour has given us is one of the greatest 
 importance ; the Sabbath was made for man, not man for the 
 Sabbath ; that is, man was not created for the mere purpose 
 of complying with certain ceremonies, and obeying certain 
 prohibitions ; but these ceremonies were instituted, and these 
 prohibitions enacted to produce an effect upon man, to mor- 
 tify in him all sinfulness of the flesh, to cherish in him the 
 spirit of righteousness, and to meliorate his fallen nature. 
 The Sabbath, in fact, was made for man, not man for the 
 Sabbath. Taking the text in this sense, I shall proceed to 
 observe upon the method of passing the Sabbath. 
 
 The common excuse in the minds of those who are so 
 unhappily frivolous that they cannot abstain from unbecom- 
 ing amusements, even on the Sabbath, is, that if they were 
 not doing what they do do, they should be doing something . 
 worse. But this style of reasoning, if it can possibly justify 
 any fault, must justify all except the greatest : things are 
 either good or bad in themselves ; a bad thing is not good 
 because others are worse, nor is it any excuse for walking 
 in the paths of sin, that we are only midway, and have not 
 yet reached the extremity ; the answer is surely very obvious 
 
 13* 
 
150 ON THE MODE OF PASSING THE SABBATH. 
 
 to such an excuse ; why do you continue in such an ungodly 
 state, that you must either do that which you do not approve, 
 or something else which you approve still less ? Why must 
 your progress he from negligence to guilt, and why the very 
 moment that you abstain from levity on the Sabbath must 
 you be charged with crime ? the fact may be true, but it is 
 no justification of your contempt for the Sabbath ; it is only 
 to say, though we are unwilling to make those sacrifices 
 and exertions necessary to a discharge of our duty, we will 
 not deviate from that duty grossly ; we will disobey God in 
 a method as little burthensome to our conscience as possible ; 
 but disobey him we must ; such is the plain meaning of that 
 style of reasoning which many of us are unfortunate enough 
 to consider as an excuse for the violation of the Sabbath. 
 Amusement on the Sabbath is not vice, perhaps, but untimely 
 amusement leads to ungodhness, by checking seriousness 
 and sanctity of thought, and by breaking down the barriers 
 of propriety. The greater part of those who avail them- 
 selves, to any Christian purpose, of the institution of the 
 Sabbath, do not do so, perhaps, from any preconceived resolu- 
 tion ; but the quiet solemnity of the day, and the total altera- 
 tion of the usual appearances, insensibly introduce a new 
 train of ideas, which could never be the case if the same 
 resources of frivolous dissipation were equally accessible at 
 every period. On this day, the pastor, standing between 
 God and the people, and clothed about with doctrines of 
 truth, boldly speaks of faith, and charity, and holy love, and 
 preaches Christ crucified, and the sound of the trumpet, the 
 dead rising from their graves, and the life of the world to 
 come ; and when he hears these things, (for on this day alone 
 he does hear them,) the miscreant of this earth trembles, the 
 loftiest guilt gathers paleness, the cross is hfted up on high, 
 and every soul is prostrate at the feet of Christ. It is on this 
 day, perhaps, that the man who has been gathering, and 
 hoarding all his life, begins first to find his confidence in 
 earthly treasures weakened and impaired ; on this day, the 
 strong think of death ; the youthful of old age ; the comely of 
 pale disease ; on this day, the son of pleasure starts from his 
 delicious vices, and thinks of a world to come. 
 
 Those common amusements, the innocence of which is, 
 by some, so strongly contended for, must have a tendency to 
 destroy completely the virtue and efficacy of the Sabbath ; it 
 is in the absence of our usual occupations, and at the season 
 
^ 
 
 ON THE MODE OF PASSING THE SABBATH. 151 
 
 of leisure, that conscience regains her empire over us, and that 
 man is compelled to hear the reproaches of his own heart ; 
 the mind turned inwardly upon itself, beholds the melancholy- 
 ravages of passion, the treacherous power of pleasure, and 
 the sad waste of Hfe. Every recurring Sabbath properly 
 spent, is a fresh chance for salvation ; if dignity is ever reco- 
 vered after the feehng of self-degradation has been long en- 
 dured ; if the latter half of Hfe is ever dedicated to the Avorks 
 of godliness and knowledge, when the days of youth have 
 been squandered in impiety and ignorance ; if tears of feeling 
 ever flow again from the dry eye ; if blushes of shame are 
 ever brought back to the hardened cheek, it is to the awful 
 voice and warning aspect of the Sabbath more than to any 
 other cause, that mankind are indebted for these wholesome 
 and pleasing examples of repentance. 
 
 To keep the Sabbath in levity, and with every species of 
 ordinary indulgence, is not to keep it at all ; it diminishes 
 the probability of improvement by making us believe that we 
 have dedicated a day to rehgion which we have dedicated to 
 everything but rehgion ; like all other false piety, it confirms 
 and supports sin by inspiring an unmerited approbation of 
 ourselves, and by soothing the useful severity of inward exa- 
 mination; in this, indeed, and in every other similar case, it 
 may be doubtful whether it were not better to lay aside all 
 pretensions to religion at once than to quiet our conscience 
 by a belief so powerless, that we cannot sacrifice to it, for the 
 least interval of time, the least of all our pleasures. After 
 all I have said, it is but too plain from whence these trifling 
 arguments for trifling away the Sabbath proceed : they pro- 
 ceed, I fear, from that advanced state of wealth and civiliza- 
 tion, w^hich precludes so many human beings from the neces- 
 sity of any mental exertion, and the example of this class of 
 society spreads rapidly downwards, destroying as it descends ; 
 they learn early to seek for gratification, which is immediate, 
 and become so weakened by long indulgence that they are 
 incapable of supporting serious thought for a single instant ; 
 that vacuity is considered as worse than death, which is not 
 filled up by the exultations of vanity or the perturbations of 
 sense. Such is the deep infatuation, and the melancholy 
 imbecility of a life of fashionable amusement, called by the 
 current error of the world, a life of pleasure ; but pitied by 
 the good and wise, as a life of wretchedness, leading to a 
 death of despair. 
 
153 ON THE MODE OF PASSING THE SABBATH. 
 
 Having said thus much upon the manner in which the 
 Sabbath ought not to be passed, it will be still more easy to 
 state the few simple rules which that solemn institution calls 
 upon us to fulfil. The first of these is public worship ; the 
 great object of every human being should be, his progress in 
 righteousness ; and the sanctity of the Sabbath surely affords 
 us the most favourable of all occasions for such a communica- 
 tion with our own hearts. What have I done wrong ? In 
 what manner could I have acted more conformably to the 
 spirit of the Gospel ? What rules for future conduct can I 
 found upon my failures and my misfortunes? Whence have 
 my joys and my sorrows sprung ? Am I advancing in the 
 great science of life ? Is my dominion over present enjoyment 
 strengthened ? Is my perception of distant good enhvened ? 
 Am I the disciple of Christ ? Do I strive by a just, gentle, 
 and benevolent life, to keep my conscience void of offence 
 towards God and man ? This is the true use and this is the 
 proper discipline of the Sabbath : thus live the souls of the 
 just in the dungeons of the flesh; thus the blessings and glories 
 of the Gospel are scattered over the face of the earth. 
 
 It is also an important part of the duties of the Sabbath, to 
 converse with serious and impressive books : such, above all, 
 as the great and eloquent ministers of the word have left 
 behind them for a memorial to all time, for a pillar of light in 
 the desert : by their arguments, their piety, and their learn- 
 ing, the devout Christian will find his reason enlightened, 
 his faith confirmed, his knowledge expanded, his zeal in- 
 flamed, and he will rise up from the labours of the dead to 
 act a wiser and better part among the living. 
 
 On the Sabbath, every man ought to think of death ; not 
 to think of death languidly, but to bring it in bold relief before 
 his eyes ; to gaze at it as if he were hereafter to meet it, and 
 to learn from that effort of his mind, the most difficult, and 
 the most sublime of all lessons. This is the season in which 
 we are called on to fling off the drapery of the world, to for- 
 get we are powerful, to forget we are young, to forget we 
 are rich, to pass over all the scenes of life, till we get at the 
 last, and to remember only, that we must die, and be judged 
 by the Son of God. For the Sabbath is not only a day of 
 rest to the body, but it is a day of refreshment to the mind. 
 The spirit of it is not only to lift up the body that is bowed 
 down, but to purify the soul that is spotted by the world. 
 Thou §halt do no manner of work, thou shalt not be the slave 
 
ON THE MODE OF PASSING THE SABBATH. 153 
 
 of avarice, nor of ambition, nor of vanity, nor of pride ; as your 
 body is cheered for the toils of the days that are to come, 
 your soul shall be more estranged from the temptations of 
 life, and better guarded against its perils. 
 
 To conclude ; one of the main pillars on which religion, 
 and consequently our temporal and eternal happiness rests, 
 is the conservation of the Sabbath ; against this the natural 
 course of human vices, and the designed attacks of profligate 
 innovators, will be powerfully directed ; here the best interests 
 of mankind are to be defended by vigilance, by strong unso- 
 phisticated sense, and by a decided disregard of that ridicule 
 that would throw an air of rusticity, inelegance, and even of 
 bigotry, over these institutions, of themselves solemn and 
 affecting; but from what they protect, inestimable. If ever 
 we live to see the Sabbath dwindle down to an ordinary day 
 of pleasure and of toil, the sun of Christianity is for a time 
 set ; God will give us up to the madness of our crimes, and 
 after a century of horrors, we shall begin to remember that 
 that there was once a day, which our forefathers set apart 
 to repent them of their sins, and to worship th^ l^qrd thei? 
 God. 
 
 
SERMON XXII. 
 
 ON THE ERRORS OF YOUTH. 
 
 It is good for a man that hfe bear the yoke in his youth. — Lamentations 
 Of Jeremiah hi. verse 27. 
 
 The best days of life are soon gone ; and time, that stayeth 
 never for man, seems then to fly with greater speed. Death 
 lingers to the old, the night is long to the sick man, the fresh- 
 ness of the morning will not bring him his strength, and he 
 crieth out in vain for the peace of the grave. To all these 
 the sun is slow in his course, and they bear the burthen of 
 their days ;— -but youth is a dream of gladness which comes 
 but to vanish ; it is sweet as a smile that perishes ; it is bright 
 and rapid as the arrows of God when he shooteth his light- 
 nings in the heavens. 
 
 If youth, then, is the season when the foundation of wisdom 
 is to be laid, and if that season passeth away thus rapidly, 
 we must not suffer occasions to escape us which admit of no 
 substitute ; nor neglect improvements which no other period 
 of life will ever enable us to attain. 
 
 By the yoke, I understand the sacred writer to mean, in 
 general, a state of discipline ; everything which education 
 teaches ; the restraint of passions, the formation of habits, and 
 the cultivation of faculties. It is not my intention, at present, 
 to launch into so wide a field as that to which this explanation 
 would seem to lead; but in pointing out a few of the charac- 
 teristic faults of youth, to show in what manner the young 
 are most likely to prove intractable to that yoke, which the 
 prophet admonishes them to bear, and to make it clear what 
 those sins and infirmities are which present the most serious 
 obstacle to their progress in Christian improvement. 
 
 The first error I shall notice, and to which I consider youth 
 
ON THE ERRORS OF YOUTH. 155 
 
 to be more exposed than any other period of life, is conceit ; 
 that which our Saviour characterizes under the name of high- 
 mindedness, an over-weaning opinion of our own good and 
 great quahties. 
 
 ^ The reason of this is very obvious ; the comparisons the 
 young have made between themselves and their fellow-crea- 
 tures are few in proportion to what they must make here- 
 after ; absolute standard of excellence there is none ; — we 
 only think ourselves great because we think others little; 
 and the more human beings we mingle with, and the more 
 frequently we institute the comparison, the more probable it 
 is that we shall find our equals, and our superiors in every 
 accomplishment, and in every virtue. 
 
 We often observe men, whose sphere of life has been ex- 
 tremely confined, to be conceited through every period of 
 their existence, — for the same reason that the young are con- 
 ceited in its earliest period, because they have measured 
 themselves with very few of their species, and mistaking all 
 that they have seen, for all that there is, have so confirmed 
 themselves in habitual conceit, that the delusion is totally 
 impregnable to all future conviction. 
 
 Growing experience forces upon the young a perception 
 of their unjust pretensions ; they begin to discover that the 
 world had made some progress in knowledge before their 
 existence, and that their birth will not be hailed as the great 
 era of wisdom and of truth. — It is necessary to live for a 
 considerable time, and in various scenes, to perceive fully 
 the wisdom of those practices which the world has estab- 
 lished, not at the suggestion of any one individual, but from 
 the gradual conviction of all, that they were best adapted to 
 promote the general happiness. Our fathers, in their youth- 
 ful days, questioned with as much acuteness, and decided 
 with as much temerity as we can do in ours ; if the progress 
 of life has taught them to respect what in its origin they 
 despised ; if they have traced to the dictates of experience, 
 many things which they at first attributed to prejudice and 
 ignorance ; if they have learnt to mistrust themselves and 
 confide more in the general feelings and judgments of the 
 world, — ^we ought not to suppose ourselves protected from 
 the same revolution of opinions, or imagine that those early 
 conceptions of human life shall be permanent now, which 
 never have been permanent before. 
 ,i These remonstrances against conceit (a faihngas injurious to 
 
166 ON tKt ERRORS OF YOUTH. 
 
 the acquisition of Christian as of human improvement), are by- 
 no means directed against the spirit of free inquiry; from which 
 a strong mind cannot and ought not to be debarred, any more 
 than a strong body ought to be from perfect activity of motion ; 
 only the young should consider that it is not a necessary conse^ 
 quence that no reason can be found because they can find none; 
 or even obtain none from a few persons to whom they have pro- 
 posed their difficulty ; and who, perhaps, can see and practice 
 right without the power of explaining or defending it. 
 
 To incline to the one side or the other is natural and not 
 blamable in the young ; but when you are so liable to error, do 
 not decide so that you cannot decently retract ; avoid the fatal 
 mistake of being so violent and positive that you are either 
 sacramented for life, to the first crude system you have 
 adopted, or forced to abandon it, hereafter, with the imputation 
 of folly or of guilt. Courage and firmness in maintaining im- 
 portant opinions are worthy attributes, but in proportion as 
 any opinion is marked by moderation and formed upon re- 
 flection, it is most likely to be retained with spirit. Extrava- 
 gance in opinion is the parent of change, and frequent change 
 produces at last a profligate indifference to all opinion. The 
 person who is firm and consistent in his manhood, has most 
 probably been modest in his youth ; so true it is that all the 
 humility so strongly enjoined by the Gospel is not calculated 
 to repress and extinguish human powers, but to adjust the 
 degree of confidence with which they are exercised, to the 
 degree of excellence with which they are endowed, and to 
 take care that that which is fallible should not be presump- 
 tuous. 
 
 - All those who judge of the world by ideal rather than 
 actual models of excellence, are in some little danger of be- 
 coming too contemptuous ; — the imagination can easily repre- 
 sent somewhat superior to what ever existed or ever will 
 exist ; by assembling all the excellencies which nature has 
 scattered among many real beings into one fictitious one; and, 
 by omitting all defects, we have at once a monster of perfec- 
 tion, to which our sad medley of good and evil cannot be 
 compared without disgrace. — Such is the case with the young 
 who despise imperfection, because extended observation has 
 not yet shown them, that the realities of life always fall far 
 short of the pictures of the mind, and that they can easily 
 conceive what they never will be able to find. The increase 
 of years with many evils brings this good,- — that our expecta- 
 
ON THE ERRORS OF YOUTH^ 157 
 
 tions of life are more accommodated to its true state ; we are 
 no longer surprised at flagrant inconsistencies in character, 
 nor disgusted that prejudice and weakness should twine 
 round the loftiest virtues ; we are contented with the mixtures 
 of good and evil, as it has been mingled for us and do not 
 despise our species because God has made them lower than 
 the angels. 
 
 Prudence is, perhaps, another cause that checks the indul- 
 gence of contempt as we advance in life ; the world we find 
 has inevitable difficulties enough without the wanton exaspe- 
 ration of our fellow-creatures. Contempt is commonly mis- 
 taken by the young for an evidence of understanding ; but no 
 habit of mind can afford this evidence, which is neither diffi- 
 cult to acquire nor meritorious when it is acquired ; and as it 
 is certainly very easy to be contemptuous, so it is very useless 
 if not very pernicious. To discover the imperfections of 
 others is penetration ; to hate them for those faults is con- 
 tempt. We may be clear-sighted without being malevolent, 
 and make use of the errors we discover to learn caution, not to 
 gratify satire ; that part of contempt which consists of acute- 
 ness we may preserve ; its dangerous ingredient is censure. 
 
 Contempt so far from being favourable to the improvement 
 of the mind, is, perhaps, directly the reverse ; it increases so 
 rapidly that it soon degenerates into a passion for condemna- 
 tion ; the sense of what is good withers away, and the per- 
 ception of evil becomes so keen and insatiable that every 
 decision we'make is satire, not judgment. All things have a 
 double aspect ; the contemptuous man sees them only on one 
 side and does not believe they have any other ; he has sacri- 
 ficed an excellent faculty to an unchristian and malevolent 
 indulgence. 
 
 Wisdom consists in doing difficult things which the mass 
 of mankind cannot do : there is a much more compendious 
 road to reputation in doing nothing and in blaming everything; 
 in pointing out where others are deficient without proving 
 where we excel. In this way a contemptuous person gives 
 himself virtues by implication, as if the opposite perfection 
 were immediately infused into his own mind, the moment he 
 had discovered a defect in the mind of another. Real wisdom 
 rather delights in positive exertions and seeks for reputation 
 by showing what itself is, not by boasting what others are 
 not. 
 
 Contempt and conceit are those faults which Christianity 
 14 
 
158 ON THE ERRORS OF YOUTH. 
 
 SO often condemns under the appellation of high-mindedness ; 
 they are passions connected with hatred ; and utterly incom- 
 patible with that simple and venerable benevolence which our 
 Saviour practised, loved and taught ; and, surely, if any one 
 has a right to look down upon the world with contempt, it is 
 not he who has just entered into it ; if great actions, admi- 
 rable qualities and profound knowledge, are sources of superi- 
 ority, they most probably will not be traced in that person to 
 whom so short a period of existence has yet afforded little 
 leisure for thought, word and deed. 
 
 Impatience of obscurity is another fault of which the young 
 are very apt to be guilty; and a fault the more to be compas- 
 sionated, because by a very little management it might be 
 converted into a virtue. The highest virtue flows only from 
 an obedience to the will of God, as evinced in the Scriptures; 
 but we must meliorate the wrong if we cannot attain the 
 right ; and regulate that love of praise which we cannot ex- 
 tirpate. The best atonement we can make for loving the 
 praise of men is by loving that praise only which is given to 
 actions difficult, meritorious and good. Unfortunately the 
 young are so fond of attracting notice, that they are often in- 
 duced to purchase it at any price ; — by spirited extravagance 
 — super-eminence in vice — by a bold violation of the restric- 
 tions of society — by paradox — by a witty contempt for the 
 good maxims which safely guide slower understandings — by 
 assuming a versatile profligacy of opinion, such as has some- 
 times marked brilliant men of extraordinary parts — by an 
 unripe skepticism which doubts before comprehension or 
 discussion — by levity, which laughs when the wise tremble, 
 and would mock at God, to gain a moment's applause from 
 the lowest of his creatures. By this impatience, displaying 
 itself in some one or other of these shapes, the young are 
 often irretrievably ruined. 'J'hey do not reflect that they 
 must be httle before they can be great ; that the privilege of 
 being listened to must be gained by listening ; and that he 
 who is too vain to begin with being insignificant, will most 
 probably be so through the whole of his existence. There is 
 one path to real fame, but that is sHppery and steep ; many 
 fall headlong down ; and few ever arrive at the summit. If 
 you have power, begin, but take the true path or none ; be too 
 proud to implore a little praise for your follies and perversi- 
 ties ; if you cannot dig, be ashamed to beg; you had better be 
 the lowest of man than glorious in the annals of sin, and 
 
ON THE ERRORS OF YOUTH, 159 
 
 honoured by the vicious only because you have exceeded 
 them in vice ; this is a greatness of which any man who could 
 be truly great would be heartily ashamed. Let us be honestly 
 obscure or rightfully eminent. The praise of this world is 
 an idle breath, even when it is well deserved ; but when it 
 breathes on the wicked, it only reddens the flames of hell. 
 
 There can hardly be any occasion that I should descant 
 much upon the impetuosity of youth ; it is so sure of bring- 
 ing with it its own corrective, and the inconvenience is so 
 obviously and immediately connected with its cause, that 
 there is less need of proving its existence or animadverting 
 upon its consequences. We should always frame in our minds 
 the most consummate model of each virtue ; fashioning our 
 own conduct upon it, as well as we are able, and sure that a 
 proportionate excellence will always be observed between them, 
 whatever be the absolute distance between the standard and 
 the imitation. Impetuosity then is not the most perfect model 
 of courage ; there is something in it to admire and much to 
 blame ; we must select from it the admirable and never rest 
 satisfied till we have wrought out a perfect image of what 
 that virtue is which impetuosity counterfeits; and to the 
 slight infusion of which it owes all the little admiration it 
 excites. It is very possible to be firm in the maintainance of 
 rights, and in the discharge of duties, without being violent. 
 That conviction of the justice of our cause, which is one of the 
 great props of virtue, is best preserved when we are least likely 
 to impair it by the violence of passion. When we are growing 
 higher in our own estimation, by the moderation we exhibit, and 
 by that management which enables us to become firm instead 
 ot fierce. Impetuosity is still more useless in the business 
 than in the dangers of life. The power of good sense is as 
 irresistible as the power of gravitation ; there are disturbing 
 forces ; but in the great cycle of ages the world is governed 
 by calm and circumspect men ; whose sagacity in discerning 
 and whose consistency in acting are rarely disturbed by emo- 
 tions which they cannot control. The greatest of all men are 
 those who can use their passions as auxiliaries without obey- 
 ing them as masters. But involuntary impetuosity is so much 
 an enemy to understanding that it is better to want passions 
 altogether than blindly to obey them. 
 
 There is no fault which Christianity labours more to cor- 
 rect than that of an impetuous mind. " Could I not call down 
 legions of Angels?" said Jesus, as he went captive to the hall 
 
160 ON THE ERRORS OF YOUTH. 
 
 of Pilate. He spake no word against them, say the Scrip- 
 tures, though they clothed him in the mock robe of majesty, 
 and beat him with rods, and crowned him with thorns ; and 
 when they had nailed his limbs to the cross, he said, " Lord, be 
 merciful to them ; they know not what they do." 
 
 These are the principal errors by an attention to which 
 the salutary yoke of discipline may be best supported in the 
 season of youth. To put on that humihty which is so well 
 accommodated to the beginning of wisdom and the beginning 
 of life, will spare future shame and future change ; and enable 
 us to pursue a simple, consistent tenour of improvement in 
 piety and knowledge. In subduing a tendency to contempt 
 we shall avoid malevolent feelings, which always bring with 
 them their own punishment; we shall not become blind to 
 perfections and curiously acute only in the detection of evil. 
 In reducing vanity Avithin due bounds, we shall remain under 
 our own laws instead of yielding obedience to a multitude ; 
 we shall live, not in dramatic agitation, but with firmness, 
 freedom and content. In curbing early impetuosity and con- 
 verting it into steady perseverance in affairs, and cool intre- 
 pidity in dangers, we shall pass through life safely and pros- 
 perously, and with as little experience of evil as wisdom can 
 ensure in a world where wisdom does not reign alone. — The 
 sum and glory of these individual improvements are a rich 
 progress in Christian wisdom. — A mind beautifully inlaid 
 with the thoughts of angels, and wrought about with the 
 signs and marks of Heaven. Bear this yoke for a while 
 when you are young that you may be free when you are 
 old ; that you may walk through life unmanacled by passions, 
 unchained by lusts, spurning the lash of Satan, and deriding 
 the bondage of sin ; that you may come to that holy and 
 happy land where no yoke is borne ; where the souls of 
 just men are illumined with amazing glory, and compassed 
 round about by the holiness of God. 
 
SERMON XXIII. 
 
 ON SELF-EXAMINATION. 
 
 ,_'J 
 We spend our years, as it were a tale that is told. — Psalms xc. verse 9. 
 
 When we hear a story pleasantly set forth in appropriate 
 language and with well-contrived incidents, the mind hangs 
 upon it eagerly, and falls from a certain height of enjoyment 
 when it is concluded : there is no sense of the passage of 
 time : hut the wit and genius of the narrator abridge it to 
 the duration of a moment ; so it is with the years of the rich 
 and great ; they are spent as a tale that is pleasantly told ; 
 there is no monotony in the events, no slownes/ in the suc- 
 cession ; novelty ever refreshes the fable, and *"genius ever 
 adorns it : on a sudden the noise is all hushed, the tale is 
 told ; our years are brought to an end, and the silence of 
 death succeeds. 
 
 I seize then with some eagerness upon the occasion which 
 the conclusion of the year presents, to press upon you the 
 duty of self-examination, and to protest against that life which 
 is passed without pause and without reflection. 
 
 It is these artificial divisions of time which teach men to 
 think of its rapid pace ; whenever the idea of change is intro- 
 duced, there comes with it that melancholy which is the 
 parent of virtue ; the mind is carried on from one vicissitude 
 to another, till it stops, and trembles at the last ; now it is 
 that our thoughts are more than ordinarily serious ; now it is 
 that we listen to the lowly breathings of conscience, that we 
 remember that this world is not the last scene of existence, 
 that we catch a distant glimpse of the grave ; how blest are 
 they who hear from that conscience the voice of praise, and 
 see beyond that grave the prospect of salvation. 
 
 We spend our years as a tale that is told; that is, we live 
 14* 
 
162 ON SELF-EXAMINATION. 
 
 SO as to banish reflection ; we do not enter into any serious 
 computation of the progress we have made in godliness ; we 
 do not balance the increase of virtue against the waste of life ; 
 there is no care that the soul should be more pure because 
 the body is more frail ; that the inward man should be more 
 fit to live with Christ, as the outward man is more ready to 
 fall down into his native dust. 
 
 To stop this easy and fatal flow of life, and to extract reli- 
 gious wisdom from years, we must have recourse to self- 
 examination ; another year of my life is gone ; am I better 
 by that year ? is there one bad passion which I have con- 
 quered, reduced, or even attacked ? am I more respectable in 
 my own eyes ? am I more the child of grace ? do I feel an 
 increased power over sin ? can I fairly say for the year that 
 is past, that I have done something ? that I have advanced 
 a single step towards the prize of the high calling ? or must 
 I say, after the sun has carried light and heat through all the 
 nations ; after nature has gone through her great circle ; and 
 the bud, and the leaf, and the fruit have once more appeared, 
 that I am where I was before, still sinning and resolving; still 
 weeping and offending ; a feeble, contrite being, unable to 
 attain the virtue which I seek, and sure of being punished for 
 the sin which I cannot avoid ? 
 
 Let us first remember, in discussing the utility of self- 
 examination, that it must be done at repeated intervals when 
 it is profitable ; or it must be done OQce for all, when it is too 
 late ; if you wish to moderate those reproaches which an 
 human being makes to his own heart, give them their entrance 
 now : hear them at this time in obedient silence, or they will 
 rush in when the tale is nearly told, and visit you with such 
 anguish as might well be avoided by a life of moderate 
 wretchedness ; if you love difficulty better than despair, and 
 are not willing to purchase a respite from present pain at the 
 expense of eternal affliction, do this now that you may not 
 hereafter be compelled to do worse. Judge, or God will 
 judge ; repent, or he will punish. 
 
 To avail ourselves of such a period as this, for the purposes 
 of self-examination, is more necessary in this great city, than in 
 any other situation, because there are fewer blanks in our 
 existence here than there can be anywhere else. We strug- 
 gle here not only for wealth and power, and pleasure, but for 
 the greatest wealth, the highest power, and the keenest plea- 
 sure. — If the game of hfe is played elsewhere with attention, 
 
ON SELF-EXAMINATION. 163 
 
 it is played here with passionate avidity : the sun goes down 
 too soon ; and we chide the morning star till it brings us back 
 to the world. It is not here that men are ever driven back 
 into their own hearts ; men never see their own hearts ; they 
 know not what dwells there ; whether it be the powers of 
 darkness, or the angels of God. 
 
 It is not merely the want of leisure in great cities, which 
 makes it necessary to enter into that voluntary self-examina- 
 tion to which we should never be impelled from the circum- 
 stances in which we are placed, but that according to the 
 common notions of men, there are no objects in great cities 
 which can inspire solemn and religious ideas. And yet, 
 where is God more visible than in great cities ? Can we see 
 infinite wisdom and power in torrents, mountains, and in 
 clouds, and not discern them in this wonderful arrangement 
 of rights, appetites and pretensions ? Is God not visible in 
 laws and constitutions ? Is he not visible in refinement ? Is 
 he not visible in reasoning ? Are not poets and orators and 
 statesmen more stupendous creations of God than all the depth 
 of the valleys, and all the strength of the hills ? If we are to 
 be lured to God by all we see of his greatness and his power, 
 here are his noblest works, and here his subhmest power ; 
 here he is to be felt, and honoured and adored. 
 
 An important reason for dedicating such periods as these to 
 the duties of self-examination is that our deficiencies must neces- 
 sarily be perceived ; we cannot shelter ourselves under a belief 
 that the shade of improvement is too delicate to be sensible ; the 
 year has either made us better or it has not ; we may not go 
 away from such an inquisition satisfied, but we can scarcely 
 go away deceived : the very doubt itself is an answer. If the 
 seventieth part of our rational existence has glided away, and 
 left us doubtful whether we have gained upon any one vice, 
 the hesitation itself is almost decisive of our failure. 
 
 Self-examination is important if life eternal is important ; 
 it is not one of those exercises to which any notion of degree 
 can be applied; it is not more or less useful, but it is indis- 
 pensable ; it must be ; without it there is no Christ, no right- 
 eousness, no life hereafter ; for it is not pretended that any 
 man is born to continued righteousness ; no man from an ori- 
 ginal sweetness and felicity of creation, goes on doing well 
 from the beginning of his days to the end. And if sin is uni- 
 versal, inquisition must be so too ; and the duty of self-exa- 
 mination never be forgotten or excused. 
 
164 ON SELF-EXAMINATION. 
 
 It is not so much the higher crimes which have need of 
 self-examination. No one asks of a murderer on the opening 
 of the year, to reflect on blood-guiltiness ; no one invites an 
 adulteress to think on her husband and children, and on that 
 misery which she is preparing for her own soul : these feel- 
 ings do not wait for our call ; they come unasked for, and un- 
 wanted to torment the guilty before their time. But the vices 
 which need self-examination are those which condemn us in 
 the sight of God, without creating in our minds any instant 
 and pressing alarm. All the fruitful family of original sin, 
 pride, anger, lust, hypocrisy, deceit, envy, hatred, malice, and 
 all uncharitableness ; for all these things a man shall surely 
 die, though they do not make him pale with fear, or rouse 
 him from his sleep, to tremble at the spectres of a guilty mind. 
 
 Nor let it be supposed, that in urging our fellow-creatures 
 to self-examination, we put them upon any exercise which is 
 difficult or profound ; or in which one human creature can 
 make a greater progress than another ; for it is fine to observe, 
 that reason, when she meddles with science, or with any- 
 thing which has a cold and distant connection with human 
 life, can wait to be intricate and subtle; she can toil through 
 many steps, and be content with small acquirements, and 
 wait patiently and retrace carefully ; but when she comes to 
 the business of salvation, to right and wrong, to holy and un- 
 holy, she is as quick as an eagle's wing, and as rapid as the 
 lightning of God. In a moment sl\e pierces through a thou- 
 sand intricacies, shivers into atoms the dull heartless sophis- 
 try which is opposed to her course, and, breaking into the 
 chambers of the soul, scares guilt with the amazing splendour 
 of truth. Seek and ye shall find; ask and ye shall have; 
 knock and it shall be opened to you. No man ever turned 
 to look for the evil that was within him and was repulsed 
 with the difficulty. Whatever God has made necessary, God 
 has made easy ; every man who searcheth his heart diligently, 
 will find in it the issues of fife. 
 
 There is nothing which can be substituted instead of self- 
 examination, renewed at intervals ; self-examination volunta- 
 rily and intentionally entered into. Sickness prompts us to 
 examine our own hearts ; but we may not be in that manner 
 visited by the Almighty ; old age warns us to this salutary 
 task; but we may perish in youth; misfortune is a great 
 master of reflection ; but we may be successful in our sins, 
 
ON SELF-EXAMINATION. 165 
 
 and a long course of lucky vice may obliterate every chance 
 and possibility of melioration. 
 
 Self-examination drives men to great exertions by inflicting 
 upon them great pains ; for the remembrance of a mis-spent 
 life commonly brings on remorse, a feeling that the harm 
 cannot be recalled or repaired ; it is not like falsehood vi^hich 
 may be corrected, and injustice which maybe atoned for; but 
 the evil done is often out of the power of repentance, and be- 
 yond the possibility of change. — It is this which makes a man 
 start up in the midst of irreverent old age, and struggle to 
 give a few months or years to God, doubting of mercy, and 
 not knowing if the relics of his days will be accepted at the 
 throne of grace. If timely thought can save us from a state 
 like this, it is, indeed, worth while to think. 
 
 In this process of self-examination, we should, among other 
 subjects of inquiry, put to our own hearts these two questions : 
 are we happy ourselves ; are we beloved by our fellow-crea- 
 tures ? — if we are really contented, it is no mean evidence 
 that we have a right to be so: if no human being is in a state 
 of hostihty against us, it is presumptive evidence, that we 
 have given no occasion of offence ; by tracing up our miseries 
 we shall arrive at our vices ; and by putting on the feehngs of 
 our enemies, and entering into their views of our conduct, we 
 may make their hostihty a motive for compensation, and a 
 mean of improvement. 
 
 In self-examination, I would have a man think of death ; he 
 should ask his own heart if he is afraid of death; why he is 
 afraid of death? what he has done to make it an object of fear? 
 what he could do to make it an object of hope ? in what way 
 he can make ready to appear before his Saviour, and all the 
 host of Heaven, at the sound of the everlasting trumpet, when 
 the heavens and the earth are expiring ? The use of self- 
 examination is to prepare for the worst, to place ourselves in 
 other situations and other circumstances before they really 
 exist, that we may meet them with the proper energy, Avhen 
 they are brought round by the revolutions of the world. The 
 business is to think of sickness in health, to reflect upon old 
 age in youth, to remember death in life, to think of the ne- 
 cessity of rendering an account now, while perfect freedom of 
 action remains : to feel that these are not situations which may 
 happen, but situations which must happen. Consider the 
 life which human beings lead, and tell me if there are many 
 men who put these things faithfuhy and strongly to their own 
 hearts. Look at a young man in all the flower and freshness 
 
166 ON SELF-EXAMINATION. 
 
 of youth ; he acts, and he thinks, and he speaks, as if that 
 condition of body was ever to remain ; he forgets when his 
 strength is gone, and his nerves are trembhng with old age, 
 that another set of opinions, congenial to the mouldering frame, 
 will get possession of his mind ; and that all his animal bra- 
 very and animal happiness will vanish as the machine de- 
 cays by which it was put in action ; so with injustice and 
 oppression, when a poor man is ground to the earth, when 
 tlie wealthy Ahab says, "His vineyard shall be mine; there 
 is no judgment for the poor ; I am the Lord of the earth ;" 
 how foolish to forget that God sees it all ; that the great day 
 will come when the oppressor will be turned into the crimi- 
 nal ; when the master will find a greater master than he ; when 
 every wildness and wantonness of power will be subjected to 
 the searching eye of omnipotent justice ; therefore, the use of 
 self-examination is to see all these consequences remotely, 
 and at a distance to measure them fairly, and to deliberate 
 duly upon them, while we are yet secure ; not to determine 
 upon actions which must affect our future lives, and endanger 
 our salvation through the influence of feelings, which will 
 cease with that portion of existence from which they spring, 
 and to which they are appropriate; but the truly evangehcal 
 habit of self-examination will teach us to consider the life of 
 man in all its parts, and under all its revolutions ; will teach 
 us to diminish those sufferings with which it concludes, by 
 moderating those enjoyments with which it begins, and enable 
 us to endure that awful responsibility which awaits us in 
 another existence by inuring us to justice and righteousness 
 in this. 
 
 In entering into this species of judgment with ourselves, 
 we must resolve not to be deceived ; the Scriptures do not 
 only say, try thy heart, but try thy heart diligenily; meaning 
 thereby, that men are subject to every species of deception in 
 this exercise, and that nothing can render it edifying but an 
 honest and manly resolution to get at the truth ; to examine 
 into such matters falsely, and feebly, is only to disturb plea- 
 sure, without improving godliness ; it only renders sin bitter, 
 without bringing us nearer to righteousness ; therefore, the 
 affair is to be insisted upon earnestly, and subjected to calm 
 revision ; and every habit is to be encouraged which can ren- 
 der a man candid and impartial to himself, for wretched indeed 
 is the state of that man, who inquires only to approve, and 
 who throws a veil over the dangers of sin, by the mockery 
 of pious investigation. ?f r j-^r:. 
 
ON SELF-EXAMINATION. 167 
 
 I have laid some stress, through the whole of my dis- 
 course, upon the necessity of systematic and intentional 
 self-examination, which I have done for two reasons : — be- 
 cause self-examination, which arises from accident, is often 
 too late, or it may not take place at all. Some men pass 
 through life without meeting with any serious and warning 
 visitation of God ; they pass through life, therefore, as igno- 
 rant of themselves as of any human being with whom they 
 have never held the smallest intercourse ; there are men 
 who come near to the grave without having once entered 
 into their own hearts, or having the shghtest conception of 
 that system of passions and feehngs which is going on there, 
 and working their everlasting happiness or destruction. 
 Many a man dies, possessing all other knowledge than the 
 best ; master of the secrets of nature ; deeply versed in the 
 habits of mankind ; great in the science of governing ; com- 
 pletely ignorant of himself; not knowing, to the hour of his 
 dissolution, whether he is the child of sin or the servant of 
 Christ. 
 
 Blessed, indeed, blessed above all his fellow-creatures, is 
 he who can bid adieu to the concluding year, without an 
 aching heart ; who can stand upon the threshold of the fresh 
 time, and look back, to say he has not hved in vain ; how 
 pleasant, to open his arms to the coming spring, and to think 
 that that which bringeth flowers and green herbs, and layeth 
 the unkind winds to rest, shall bring, also, its increase of 
 piety, and of wisdom, and calm the troubles of the mind. 
 In all Europe, the new year is celebrated with joy; it is a feast 
 to the peasant, and to the child ; and there is no man, how- 
 ever enhghtened his understanding, who will look down on 
 such pleasures, without some share of complacency and 
 approbation ; they have their foundation in the human mind, 
 which is ever prone to hope, and looks forward to brighter 
 seasons and fairer skies, with the expectations of some great 
 advantage, though it knows not precisely what ; let us give 
 way to the general impulse, and usher in the new year by 
 some act of Christian mercy and goodness, forgive a debt, 
 forget an injury, hold out your hand to a repentant brother, 
 take back to your heart an offending child, go into the dark- 
 ness of the dungeon, and refresh the sorrows of a languishing 
 prisoner; make this season holy before the Lord ; do something 
 on it, which may gain you eternal life ; before the last days 
 are come, before the years are brought to an end, as it were a 
 tale that is told. 
 
liil.' -ym^-*^: 
 
 SEEMON XXIV. 
 
 ON DISSIPATION. 
 
 I said to my heart, go to, now, enjoy pleasure ; I will prove thee with 
 mirth ; but behold, this also is vanity. — Ecclesiastes ii. verse 1. 
 
 The former part of this soliloquy of Solomon, to his own 
 heart, we have all pronounced to our hearts ; we all have said, 
 " Enjoy pleasure ; I will prove thee with mirth ;" but have 
 we been wise, or fortunate enough, to add, with the royal 
 moralist, — this also is vanity? 
 
 In the progress of society, fresh crimes, follies, and virtues, 
 as well as new sciences, and arts, emerge into notice ; and to 
 study mankind aright, we must observe, no less the circum- 
 stances in which he is placed, than the feelings, passions, 
 and talents, of which he is composed. To savage men, sur- 
 rounded by enemies, and trusting to their daily activity for 
 their dail)?- support, abundance and ease are the greatest of 
 human blessings ; as society advances, the misery of man 
 seems, by a singular inversion of destiny, to proceed from the 
 very cause of his original happiness ; thousands are rendered, 
 miserable by tranquillity and opulence ; are ruined by a fatal 
 competence, which extinguishes every principle of action, 
 and feel that their existence is a burthen, only because they 
 have escaped from the curse of Adam, and are not doomed to 
 eat their bread by the sweat of their brow. 
 
 When we are taught by our wants, we are well taught ; 
 when we are left to act from our understanding, our conduct^, 
 is generally more imperfect and erroneous. The employ- 
 ment of time is, with a great part of the human species, who 
 are exempted from necessary labour, a very difficult con* 
 cern ; and among the number who enjoy the hazardous pri-, 
 vilege of choosing for themselves, there are not very many:^ 
 
ON DISSIPATION. 169 
 
 who have the happiness of choosing well ; the common 
 expedient is pleasure, by which, in the language of the 
 world, is meant a succession of company, amusement and 
 diversion ; an excessive pursuit of pleasure has received the 
 name of dissipation, and to this trite, but important subject, 
 I shall endeavour, on this day, to call your serious attention. 
 
 Moderate indulgence glides so imperceptibly into vicious 
 excess, that it is by no means an easy task to point out their 
 mutual confines. Some evidence, however, an attentive ob- 
 servation of our own souls will necessarily afford. Whenever 
 we perceive that the common occurrences of life become 
 languid and tedious ; when domestic society palls upon us ; 
 when we find ourselves perpetually escaping from the pre- 
 sent hour, and looking eagerly forward to the future moments 
 of vanity and display ; when occasional solitude and reflec- 
 tion become the worst of evils, and splendour, crowd, and 
 solicitude, the ever-recurring objects of our wishes and our 
 cares ; when instruction has no charms ; when good actions 
 can no longer animate and delight ; then has the soul lost its 
 dignity and its strength ; then is the rational being fast hast- 
 ening to decay; then is it time to remember that these things, 
 also, are but vanity. 
 
 Among other objections to dissipation, it will be found to 
 proceed from erroneous notions of pleasure : if it necessarily 
 involved any struggle between duty and gratification, it 
 would be more easily understood why the latter so often 
 triumphed over the former consideration ; but the most 
 dissipated men are the first to complain of the dullness and 
 sameness of the pleasures they pursue ; they cannot quit 
 what they do not love ; they are wearied, but have no asy- 
 lum ; wisdom and virtue are not to be recalled at pleasure ; 
 there is no retreat ; they are doomed to be irrevocably frivo- 
 lous, to trifle on to the brink of the grave, though conscience 
 whispers at every step, this is not pleasure ; it was not for 
 this that man was made after the image of his God. 
 
 How changed is our estimation of all worldly things, when 
 sober experience awakens us from the dreams of youth. — 
 We begin with expecting to find in the common circle of 
 ordinary amusement, every brilHant and every fascinating 
 quality of our nature ; we enjoy, in anticipation, the pictures 
 of fancy, the delight of eloquence, the surprise of wit, the 
 charm of courtesy, the union of joyous hearts and creative 
 minds. — What is it we do meet ? too often a weariness of 
 15 
 
170 ON DISSIPATION. 
 
 life ; — too often the escaping^ from a man's own heart ; — too 
 often that melancholy dejection, which says, " I have no 
 pleasure in doing this, but I have no courage to do better 
 than this." How different from this species of society is that 
 wise, necessary, but occasional intercourse with our fellow- 
 creatures, which is founded upon mutual regard ; which is a 
 contrast with previous soHtude, or a relaxation from previous 
 toil ; where there is some real commerce of understanding, 
 and some real gratification of regard ; where melancholy is 
 dispelled, cheerfulness promoted, friendship confirmed, pre- 
 judice refuted, or reason sanctioned in her decisions : and 
 yet, how httle of such pure and innocent pleasure does it 
 fall to our lot to enjoy. Do you ask me why? this is the 
 reason ; and I would it were as easy to find a cure as a 
 cause : because our minds are unexercised, and our hearts 
 are not overflowing with the recollections of benevolence 
 gratified, and passion subdued ; because we have not courage 
 for the toil, which is to make the relaxation sweet, because 
 the love of admiration governs us, because we know not that 
 the very essence of pleasure is rarity, that it is impossible, 
 from the very constitution of our nature, to preserve the keen- 
 ness of first sensations, or to prevent that apathy into which 
 the mind, jaded with constant enjoyment, perpetually sub- 
 sides. — Let no one imagine that it is an easy thing to lay 
 aside the habits of dissipation at will ; a valuable and syste- 
 matic employment of time is acquired with difficulty, and, 
 to be acquired at all, should be soon begun. An industrious 
 manhood is rarely grafted on a youth of folly ; but a youth 
 of folly will still keep you young, though you have numbered 
 many days ; and a hoary head will surprise you in the midst 
 of youthful gratification and frivolous amusement ; yet, there 
 is a time, when retirement is comely and decent ; at which, 
 not only the dictates of reason and religion, but even the 
 opinions of the world require it ; there is a time, when you 
 should carry gray hairs, and paleness, and weakness, into 
 the midst of those whose love will support your declining 
 years, when you should grow old, and die in the bosom of 
 your family ; when you should spare to your fellow-creatures 
 the melancholy spectacle of irreverent old age, of levity with- 
 out joy, of infirmity without wisdom : blessed is the hoary 
 head, which is found in the paths of wisdom ; but no blessings 
 fall on him who has grown old without growing wise, and 
 
ON DISSIPATION. J71 
 
 has gathered nothing from the lapse of years but the outward 
 symbols of decay. 
 
 One of the most obvious consequences of dissipation is the 
 destruction of all the mental powers. In men upon whom 
 the greater part of the business of the world, and the advance- 
 ment of knowledge principally depend, this evil is the most 
 inexcusable ; there is no character which ensures disrespect 
 so much as that of a trifling, frivolous man ; he is measured 
 by the magnitude of those objects which form the laudable 
 pursuits of his sex ; we cannot forget the height of science 
 to which he might have ascended ; the useful functions he 
 might have fulfilled ; the career of glory he might have run ; 
 the rehgious wisdom he might have treasured up. He has 
 no excuse in a natural indelible mildness of character, which 
 may betray the firmness of resolution and communicate a 
 greater force to the social feelings ; he sins against the most 
 exalted and popular qualities of a man without gaining any 
 others in return ; he is trifling without being amiable ; weak 
 without being delicate ; and ignorant without being affection- 
 ate or humane. Neither let any shelter themselves under 
 the plea that dissipation does not sacrifice that time which 
 ought to be given up to more important occupations ; rehgion 
 bids us all prepare for an hereafter; benevolence bids us 
 alleviate the miseries of the present scene ; knowledge invites 
 us to contemplate and understand it : the first hallows the 
 mind, the next softens it, the last strengthens, exalts and 
 adorns it. To love religion is to love eternity and to love 
 salvation ; but to love knowledge as the means of complying 
 with the injunctions of that religion may not be sufficiently 
 impressed upon the minds of us all. In an advanced period 
 of society it is the most eflTectual preventive against the perils 
 of idle opulence ; it economizes the most useful possessions 
 of a state, its talents ; prevents the mournful waste of genius 
 and turns the powers of our minds into the real channels in 
 which they ought to flow. — Against the fair and moderate 
 pursuit of pleasure, I hope no one imagines me so mistaken 
 as to contend ; the love of knowledge will render the extrava- 
 gant and dissipated pursuit of it as distasteful as it is perni- 
 cious ; nothing frees a man so effectually from the shameful 
 dependence on foreign aid, and renders him so contented with 
 himself and his own home ; he is no longer compelled to flee 
 from the restless activity of the mind to a circle of melancholy 
 and insipid amusement. This is not all; to exercise the 
 
172 ON DISSIPATION. 
 
 mind is a duty, it is an essential part of righteousness ; the 
 agency upon the world, the power of doing good increases 
 immensely with the increase of our intellectual powers. It 
 matters not by what science, by what studies our minds are 
 exercised, if they be ready to be turned on the conduct of 
 life, the interests of mankind, and the promotion and defence 
 of rehgion. Take, for instance, the task of early education 
 commonly devolved upon mothers ; is there one of greater 
 importance in the whole circle of human affairs ? and what 
 daily ravages are committed on the characters of future men, 
 by affectionate parents, who mean to do well without any 
 adequate power of seconding their good intentions, and who 
 lament, when too late, that they wasted in dissipation the 
 season of improvement, that their minds have never been 
 strengthened by difficulties, or fertihzed by thought. 
 
 Dissipation is not less injurious to the qualities of the 
 heart than to the powers of the mind. The dissipated become 
 impatient of anything which is not immediately amusing; 
 they cannot submit to the present sacrifice which virtue re- 
 quires, or wait for the remote gratifications which it affords. 
 The passing moment must yield its tribute of pleasure at 
 every expense of health, fortune, and inward satisfaction. — 
 All control over incHnation is gradually lost, and the appre- 
 hension of distant consequences ceases to influence the con- 
 duct. Whenever we place our happiness, not in the good 
 feelings of the heart, but in the lively impressions of the 
 senses, every virtue becomes disgusting and dull; the child 
 leaves its aged parent to solitude and disease ; the mother, 
 ashamed of her advancing years, deserts her children. — The 
 father flies from the gloomy sameness of his family, and every 
 beautiful feeling is erased from the heart ; — the appearance 
 of misery excites not a desire to reheve, but anger at the 
 intrusion of disagreeable sensations, a feeling of injury at the 
 interruption of elegant pleasure. In the midst of these plea- 
 sures, in the full current of thoughtless joy, I pray you for 
 one moment pause; it is not much to give to salvation, to 
 virtue, and to wisdom; for one moment pause and think on 
 the motley destiny of man ; not far from the scenes of your 
 joy are crowded together the children of labour and sorrow, 
 and of affliction ; did you ever seek that cure of dissipation ? 
 Did you ever appal your heart ? Did you ever beat down 
 your gayety to the dust by the near aspect and approach of 
 the misery of man ? not such as it is painted in books, but 
 
ON DISSIPATION. 173 
 
 such as you may find it, at this instant, not a span's length 
 from this very spot ; dissipation can never endure such tre- 
 mendous sights as these ; the very walls seem to cry out, 
 why have you forgotten these wretched people in the midst 
 of your pleasures ? The sight of a poor man's dwelling, the 
 food he eats, the bed on which he lies, these things scare 
 and admonish the voluptuous heart more than all the minis- 
 ters of God. Yet think not that these sights destroy plea- 
 sure ; they are the only passport to pleasure ; first deserve it, 
 then enjoy it ; go strengthen infirmity, heal disease, lighten 
 the load of human misery, pay back in humanity the loan of 
 opulence, then say to, your heart, go to now, enjoy pleasure, 
 I will prove thee with mirth ; and then only you will escape 
 the sad conclusion : — this also is vanity. 
 
 The love of expense is not one of the least miseries conse- 
 quent upon dissipation ; it produces meanness, dishonesty, 
 and unhappiness; the mind must be at ease for the cultiva- 
 tion of virtue, and there can be no tranquillity where such a 
 constant struggle is maintained between penury and ostenta- 
 tion, where everything is splendour without and distress 
 within, where the world is to be deceived and the melancholy 
 reflection supported, that the means of solid comfort are daily 
 sacrificed to idle and unsubstantial parade. The dictates of 
 common sense and the feelings of nature are never violated 
 with impunity ; the most intolerable of all sensations is that 
 of constant self-reproach ; to feel that days, and months, and 
 years are gliding away without leaving to us any acquisition 
 of virtue or of knowledge ; that our resolutions of amendment 
 are never proof against temptation, that our life is passing 
 on without utility to others or dignity to ourselves ; this is the 
 bitterness of soul which riseth up when the head is crowned 
 with flowers and the wine mantleth in the cup ; this is the 
 handwriting on the wall, at the sight of which the spirit of a 
 man fainteth within him, as did the spirit of Belshazzar, the 
 king, when he feasted with his thousand lords. 
 
 Is it possible, I may ask, in speaking of dissipation, is it 
 possible that we, who are daily enlightened by the sublime 
 morality and perfect example of Christ, can we believe that 
 the whole order of nature was reversed, and the stupendous 
 prodigy of revelation exhibited to the earth, to clothe with 
 immortahty a wretched being that has trifled away seventy 
 years of existence, and who is only loosened from the bonds 
 of folly by corruption and death ? Do you think it is to be 
 
 15* 
 
174 ON DISSIPATION. 
 
 threescore and ten years of mirth, an hour of repentance, 
 and an eternity of joy ? By what courtesy are you exempted 
 from the curse of Adam ? Has God given to one the sweat 
 and the toil, and to another the smell of the blossom, the sha- 
 dow of the leaf, and the taste of the fruit ? This life is to 
 every description and condition of human beings, a life of 
 labour and exertion ; of labour either of body or of mind. 
 The labour of the rich is to combat their passions, to fortify 
 their virtues, to study and to follow the law of the Gospel, to 
 prepare themselves dihgently for another and a better state 
 of existence, to turn their leisure to the cultivation of know- 
 ledge and the improvement of human happiness ; to take 
 advantage of their condition, by being exemplary as they 
 are eminent, courteous as they are elevated, bounteous as 
 they are rich ; by making themselves the protectors of the 
 distressed and the stewards of the poor; with these general 
 habits of life, there are times when a wearied mind and body, 
 when the social feelings, when reason itself, call for, and jus- 
 tify relaxation and joy ; the pleasures of the good are as dear 
 to God as their prayers ; he is with them in the house of joy 
 and in the temple of religion ; he is in the midst of them 
 wherever they are gathered together ; through him they are 
 happy without fear and without reproving, and while they 
 prove their hearts with mirth they are not compelled to add 
 that this also is vanity and sorrow. 
 
■■^r 
 
 SEEMON XXV. 
 
 ON THE CONVERSION OF SAINT PAUL 
 
 And straightway he preached Christ in the synagogues, that he is the son 
 of God. But all that heard him were amazed, and said, is not this he 
 that destroyed them which called on his name in Jerusalem. — Acts ix. 
 VERSES 20,21. 
 
 Of all the arguments dwelt on for the defence of Chris- 
 tianity, none have been more forcibly or more successfully 
 urged, than the conversion of St. Paul ; and it certainly is a 
 circumstance which cannot be explained without the suppo- 
 sition of something improbable, or the belief of something 
 miraculous. 
 
 The treatment which Christ, his disciples, and his converts 
 experienced from the Jews, would (if other proofs were want- 
 ing), sufficiently convince us of the obstinate adhesion of that 
 people to the religion of their ancestors, and demonstrate how 
 soon their watchful jealousy, on such a subject, would break 
 out into cruel persecution. The Pagans were, upon the 
 whole, not merely tolerant, but careless in matters of rehgion. 
 Poets vilified their gods ; comedians ridiculed them upon the 
 stage ; philosophers denied their existence ; the priests conti- 
 nued to sacrifice, the people to believe, and the government 
 was content : but the religion of the Jews was deeply fixed 
 and eagerly defended. It was their creed that God had sin- 
 gled them out from the whole earth as the people of his pro- 
 vidence and protection ; they considered themselves as sepa- 
 rated from the darkened hemisphere of the Pagans ; they 
 believed that they had been fed by angels, guided by mira- 
 cles, taught by prophets, and approached by God. They 
 were proudly mindful of these distinctions ; they studied their 
 law with active investigation, and defended it with ardent 
 
176 ON THE CONVERSION OF ST. PAUL. 
 
 zeal ; proselytism, therefore, effected among a people of this 
 description, is certainly more important as to the proof it 
 affords, than any ordinary change from one religion to an- 
 other ; the stronger the resistance, the greater the force which 
 overcomes it. Prejudices so deeply imbibed, no common 
 power can eradicate, and no usual force of argument refute. 
 
 In the twenty-second chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, 
 St. Paul, in declaring his conversion, thus describes himself: 
 " I am verily a man which am a Jew, born in Tarsus ; and 
 was brought up at the feet of Gamaliel, and taught according 
 to the perfect manner of the law of the fathers, and was zeal- 
 ous towards God, as ye all are this day." 
 
 St. Paul, therefore, seems to have been a man thoroughly 
 instructed in the Jewish law ; the opinions of his nation were 
 confirmed by the tenour of his education ; and belief in him 
 was not merely a popular opinion caught from living with a 
 multitude who were of the same creed, but an extended sys- 
 tem, disciplined by regular learning, and defended with scho- 
 lastic acuteness. The pride of the scholar was added to the 
 bigotry of the Jew, and he would resist conviction from vanity 
 as well as from faith. 
 
 If St. Paul had remained quiet, at the first propagation 
 of Christianity ; if he had taken no active part at this interest- 
 ing period ; if he had viewed its progress with indifference ; 
 if he had suspended his conviction till the sensation of novelty, 
 too active for reason, had subsided, and left him to the free 
 exercise of his understanding ; we could not have been so 
 much surprised that the result should have terminated in his 
 conversion ; but from the first appearance of Christianity, he 
 was its decided foe ; at the first dawn of this new light he 
 rose up in bitterness and in anger, to extinguish it ; and to 
 bear witness that it was from men and not from God. In 
 the above-mentioned chapter. Saint Paul says, "I persecuted 
 this way unto death, binding, and delivering into prison, both 
 men and women ; as also the high priest doth bear me wit- 
 ness, and the estate of the elders, from whom I received let- 
 ters unto the brethren, and went to Damascus to bring them 
 which were bound unto Jerusalem for to be punished." And 
 yet this is he whom bondage could not make less zealous, 
 who, under all varieties of misfortune, and in every species 
 of sorrow, remained steadfast in faith, and immovable in con- 
 viction ; who, with that high-principled courage which always- 
 keeps fortune beneath its feet, and rises superior to every' 
 
ON THE CONVERSION OF ST. PAUL. 177 
 
 event, preached, from the midst of guards, and swords, and 
 chains, the truths of the Gospel ; those truths which shook 
 the heart of Felix with fear, and drove Agrippa to the hrink 
 of conversion. This is the fact which comes home to the 
 bosoms of men ; this is the history which represses the confi- 
 dence of infidelity, and breaks the slumber of indifference. 
 The enmity of St. Paul is turned to protection ; the bitterness 
 of persecution is exchanged for the zeal of friendship ; and 
 he is made an humble instrument for promoting the Gospel, 
 whose ardent spirit had most powerfully impelled him to its 
 destruction. 
 
 After this general sketch of his life which I have already 
 quoted, St. Paul proceeds to state the particular circumstances 
 of his conversion : " Whereupon, as I went to Damascus with 
 authority and commission from the chief priests ; at mid-day, 
 oh king, I saw in the way a light from heaven, above the 
 brightness of the sun shining round about me, and them 
 which were with me, and when we were all fallen to the 
 earth, I heard a voice from heaven." And he then proceeds 
 to relate the command he received from heaven ; a passage 
 in the Scriptures too well known to need quotation. 
 
 These are the facts respecting the conversion of St. Paul, 
 and from these facts it must follow as an inevitable conse- 
 quence, (if this miracle be not true,) that St. Paui deceived 
 himself, or that he deceived others ; that he was either a dupe, 
 or an impostor. We will first inquire, if it be probable that 
 St. Paul endeavoured to impose on the world a miracle in 
 which he himself had not a thorough belief, and the obvious 
 mode of beginning such an investigation, will be to examine 
 into the motives which, under any rules by which the human 
 character ought to be judged, could have influenced St. Paul 
 to the commission of such a despicable fraud, and implicated 
 him in such a shameless piece of hypocrisy. 
 
 I beheve it may be laid down as a general rule, that every 
 man will love that which is virtuous and honourable where 
 he can gain nothing by perfidy and vice. No man is bad 
 for nothing, no man covers himself with crimes, from a mere 
 lust for disgrace, or an eager relish for infamy; self-approba- 
 tion is not bartered for nothing ; every human being naturally 
 loves the praise of his own heart, and the approbation of his 
 fellow-creatures ; and if he sells them at all, he sells them for 
 some pleasure that is poignant, some gratification that will 
 repay him for infamy and remorse. 
 . The question then is, what motive St. Paul could have had 
 
178 ON THE CONVERSION OF ST. PAUL. 
 
 to sacrifice the consideration in which he was held by his 
 countrymen ; to expose himself to ridicule and to contempt, 
 to persecution, to poverty, to the most extreme and the most 
 varied distress; could the Christians hold out to him any 
 magnificent temptations ? could they buy him by the gor- 
 geous allurements of honour, power and opulence ? alas, what 
 could the Christians give ? begging themselves for life, for 
 bread, for compassion ; flying to rocks and caverns not to con- 
 ceal crimes, but to worship that Saviour who had just left the 
 earth ; what hopes and promises could they hold out to mer- 
 cenary talents and venal ambition ? The persecuted cannot 
 protect ; power is not in the gift of poverty ; the indigent and 
 afflicted have nothing to offer but a share in their misery : 
 they could say to St. Paul, be a Christian as we are ; we have 
 not, indeed, much of worldly honour to bestow ; but you may 
 share our persecution ; — you may become its most import- 
 ant subject ; — you may be the leading martyr of our sect ;— -« 
 you may be a more illustrious outcast, a more splendid victim, 
 than has yet graced the annals of our misery. You may live 
 in sorrow, and die in torture ; this must have been the lan- 
 guage of Christian seduction, and these the irresistible temp- 
 tations which worked upon St. Paul, to prostitute his honour, 
 and desert his religion ; he must have submitted to be base, 
 in order to be miserable ; he must have waded through im- 
 posture to martyrdom, and thought no artifice too mean to 
 encounter difficulty, and court persecution. 
 
 If St. Paul did not believe his own testimony, but was im- 
 posing on mankind, what evidence can we ever hear with 
 confidence and conviction ? with him seems to rise or fall the 
 credibihty of all human assertion : mere words we may per- 
 haps mistrust : the sad knowledge of man's depravity may 
 justify us even in doubting of oaths, and allow us to balance 
 the credibility against the solemnity of the assertion ; but he 
 who strengthens his testimony by his misfortunes, cannot be 
 any longer suspected ; he who is beaten, and shipwrecked, 
 and chained, cannot be considered as the martyr of obstinate 
 fraud ; he has washed off every stain of suspicion by his blood, 
 and has shown in the noble catalogue of his woes, the heroic 
 patience of conviction, and the unshaken courage of truth. 
 Then, again, if any considerations of policy had influenced 
 his conduct, he would have softened the odium of apostasy 
 by the gradual dereliction of former connections ; but observe 
 the singular circumstances of his conversion ; he sets out for 
 Damascus, an infidel bloated with rage and yearning for 
 
ON TH« CONVERSION OF ST. PAUL. 17D 
 
 blood : his errand of death was a legal one ; he bore with him 
 those credentials of cruelty which he had eagerly sought for, 
 and easily obtained : he went forth the accredited minister of 
 Jewish vengeance, their favourite assassin, amid the shoutings 
 and rejoicings of the people. So he went forth ; how did 
 he return ? with a heart softened by sorrow, and bursting with 
 remorse, lowly, broken, and penitent; not the minister of 
 Jewish vengeance, but its object ; preaching Christ, and la- 
 menting with tears and sighs, the infatuation of his past life ; 
 this is the portentous fact which vouches so strongly for 
 Christianity ; here it is, if anywhere, that the finger of God 
 is to be seen in our religion. 
 
 Let us now consider if there was any reason to believe 
 that St. Paul was himself deceived, and that this miracle, in- 
 stead of a real revelation, was nothing more than the phan- 
 tasm of a deluded imagination. 
 
 If the character of St. Paul were such as to justify us in 
 this supposition, and induce us to believe, that a mind too in- 
 tensely heated had lost all wholesome control over the fancy ; 
 the difficulty is to conceive why this self-created vision did 
 not rather model itself in conformity, than in opposition to the 
 whole former tenour of his words and actions. If his miracle 
 had spurred him on to new asperity, and fresh bitterness 
 against the Christians, it would have accorded very well with 
 the usual history of fanaticism ; and the extravagancies of his 
 fancy would have preserved a certain affinity to his ordinary 
 ideas. Madness does not reverse the notions which a mind 
 in health intensely dwells upon, but points them, and gives 
 them new vigour. It does not struggle against the tide of 
 the conceptions ; but hurries that tide on with fresh impetu- 
 osity. St. Paul, a visionary and a madman, Avould have hated 
 the Christians worse than in his sober mind ; if not, I will 
 venture to assert, that it is the only instance on record where 
 an enthusiastic supposition of intercourse with heaven has 
 cured fanaticism instead of increasing it, and to suppose such 
 a case, is to decide contrary to all experience for the sole pur- 
 pose of depreciating Christianity. Is there, moreover, any- 
 thing in the character of St. Paul, after he became a Chris- 
 tian, that can warrant this imputation of fanatical derange- 
 ment ? Is a fanatic observant of times and seasons ? Does 
 he bend this way and that way in dexterous fluctuation, with 
 the little prejudices and passions of men? The strongest 
 feature of fanaticism is a want of fine perception, an ungovern- 
 
180 * ON THE CONVERSION OF ST. PAUL. 
 
 able and monotonous violence, totally unobservant of occa- 
 sions. But St. Paul at Athens makes no mention of the Gos- 
 pel, or the new light, or Christ, or his disciples, or Moses, 
 or the Jewish law; he addresses them in a strain of general 
 and exalted eloquence ; quotes their own poets in confir- 
 mation of his opinions, tells them he was come to make 
 known to them that God whom they ignorantly worshiped, 
 and to show them clearly those attributes which they already 
 adored in dark piety, and revered with unenlightened wonder. 
 See how dexterously he avails himself of the state of parties 
 in the Jewish synagogue ; how ably he pushes on the waving 
 faith of Agrippa, how he kindles into seven-fold eloquence, 
 when the hope of reclaiming that illustrious Pagan flashes 
 across his mind. *' King Agrippa, believest thou the pro- 
 phets ? I know that thou behevest ; and Agrippa said, thou 
 almost persuadest me to be a Christian ; then said Paul, I 
 would to God, that not only thou, but that all who hear me 
 this day were as I am, saving these bonds." 
 
 Here then I will stop, and recapitulating the plain story 
 that has been told, make a stand for Christianity. At the 
 first appearance of this religion, St. Paul declares himself its 
 enemy, and becomes the bitter persecutor of its converts ; he 
 solicits and obtains permission from the high priest to root it 
 out ; he, on a sudden, declares his belief in this heresy, fairly 
 tells the Jews he has been converted by a miracle ; not only 
 believes but ardently propagates it ; and in the course of his 
 reHgious labours, exposes himself to every possible danger 
 and difficulty that human nature can encounter. The infer- 
 ences to be drawn from this plain history, are these, that that 
 man cannot be insincere who has suffered evils worse than 
 death for what he believes to be the truth ; who by a life of 
 pain and wandering, of anguish and labour, has borne witness 
 to the integrity of his faith ; that that man cannot be a weak 
 man who has carried the arts of successful persuasion through 
 barbarous and through civilized men, and extorted from Pagan 
 pride, and Pagan power, such splendid evidence of his cogent 
 arguments, and also imposing eloquence. He is then a good 
 man, and a wise man ; and as he is, let him not plead and 
 sufTer in vain: let not his long labour, and his illustrious life 
 be lost upon us ; let us finish what Agrippa began, — our con- 
 viction,— and when he reasons of temperance, and righteous- 
 ness, and judgment to come, let us do more than Felix, not 
 only tremble, but tremble and repent. 
 
'^Vi^k^-^lll^'4 
 
 SERMON XXVI. 
 
 ON TEMPTATION. 
 PART I. 
 
 Then was Jesus led up of the spirit into the wilderness, to be tempted of 
 the devil. — Matthew iv. verse 1. 
 
 In this season of the year, when we are reminded of our 
 Saviour's miraculous temptation, it is highly expedient that 
 we should consider those perils to which we are exposed by 
 the great deceiver of mankind ; who offers to us also all the 
 pleasures and glories of the world, if we will forget the Lord, 
 our God, and fall down to the worship of the powers of dark- 
 ness. Day and night man is tempted from the path of his 
 salvation ; and on each side stand alluring pleasures, inviting 
 him to destruction. There are lust, avarice, and ambition; 
 the great sin of intemperance ; deep servitude to this world ; 
 timid apostasy, that corrupted the soul of Peter; revenge, that 
 shed the blood of Abel; cruelty, that sharpened the sword of 
 Herod ; falsehood by which Ananias fell ; treachery, that 
 nailed Jesus to the cross. The soul is assailed by all these 
 powers of darkness, and no man will ever see God, who has 
 not clad himself in the armour of righteousness, and walked 
 unhurt through them all to the mountain of Calvary ; to 
 finish his race at that goal, to breathe his last at the feet of 
 Christ. 
 
 Let him among us, (say the Scriptures,) who would avoid 
 temptation, think meanly and humbly of himself. The 
 danger that is to be averted, must be well known, and ratio- 
 nally apprehended, or it will come in double terror. No 
 confidence, I beseech you, in the strength of resolutions, in 
 the solemnity of vows, in the force and freshness of repent- 
 16 
 
182 ON TEMPTATION. 
 
 ance ; — the wind scatters chaff, the waves toss down mounds 
 of sand ; passion sweeps before it the oaths, the protesta- 
 tions, the resolves of men, and breaks in pieces the slender 
 fabrics of his soul. Before temptation, we are more than 
 angels ; have I not, (the sinner says,) mourned for my fault ? 
 am I not weary of the bondage of this sin ? is it possible that 
 I shall be tempted once more, that I shall forget all that suf- 
 fering has taught me, all that I have learnt from dejection 
 and self-reproach ? Alas ! a word, a sound, a sight will melt 
 all this new wisdom into air, and hurry us back to the same 
 station of sin ; again we shall resolve, again feel boldness 
 and pride ; again learn the weakness of man's nature, again 
 know the strength of sin, and again feel the bitterness of 
 repentance. 
 
 There is a degree of fear, however, which leads to despair; 
 our notions of the power of sin may be so excessive as to 
 make all resistance appear hopeless ; but the holy fear, of 
 which I am speaking, is that which is opposed to rash con- 
 fidence ; a fear mingled with so much hope, that it excites 
 activity, and does not confound judgment ; a fear which 
 discovers the whole extent of the danger, without magni- 
 fying it more than reality ; and distrusts the means of 
 opposing sin, without distrusting them more than they 
 ought to be distrusted ; distrusts them when unaided by 
 grace, when unfounded on religion, w^hen unblest by God, 
 when purely, and entirely human ; but when connected 
 with heaven, when sanctified and hallowed, and touched by 
 Christ, then sees their dignity and glory ; and knows they 
 have strength to trample on every lust and passion of the 
 flesh. 
 
 Confidence is the great auxiliary of temptation ; if we say 
 that we have no sin, we perpetually deceive ourselves, and 
 the truth is not in us. Profound Christian humility is the 
 only safeguard of virtue. " I dare not so much as lift up 
 my eyes to that allurement ; I dare not confide it to my 
 thoughts ; I will flee from it into the bosom of the deep, 
 and into the nethermost parts of the world ; if God save me 
 not, I am lost, for of myself I can do nothing — and my por- 
 tion is sin ;" — so think the just ; thus do they cry unto God 
 in their prayers, and in this way, by fear and trembling, are 
 ihey saved. 
 
 I beg you to observe, that in speaking of this timid appre- 
 hension of the perils of temptation, I speak rather of the 
 
ON TEMPTATION. 18*3 
 
 beginning of righteousness than of its very advanced and 
 mature state ; the time at length comes, when the force of 
 temptation is diminished, and the power of resistance in- 
 creased ; and this fact is one of the strongest incitements to 
 resist temptation, that the difficulty and the struggle become 
 every day less intense, till righteousness and evangelical 
 purity appear to be almost habitual ; we see in the perils of 
 the flesh, that which we have before encountered and sub- 
 dued ; we remember the former protection of Heaven ; we 
 resume the same confidence in Christ ; we put up the same 
 prayer ; we receive for our aid the same emanations of the 
 divine grace ; — there dwell within us a constant courage, 
 founded upon experience of the efficacy of grace, a prone- 
 ness to trust in God, a cheerful and invincible hope. " Yea, 
 though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I 
 will fear no evil ; thy rod and thy staff shall comfort me." 
 
 At first, every passion of the flesh seems irresistible ; if 
 we are tempted by anger, we do not perceive how it is possi- 
 ble to remain serene ; if the sweetness of revenge invites us, 
 then it is not in our nature to forgive ; but the true servant 
 of Christ, who has begun this good exercise, who has often 
 prayed against temptation, and praying often subdued it ; 
 who has carried the old man forth to funeral, with the solemn 
 tears of repentance, and buried him in the grave of Jesus, 
 and put on the new man, a new heart, a new understanding, 
 new affections, and excellent appetites of Heaven ; he can be 
 tempted by anger, and remain in peace ; he can be injured, 
 and forgive ; he can look upon intemperance, and be frugal ; 
 he can witness successful violence, and be just ; beauty to 
 him is marble, riches dross, power vanity, ambition toil ; 
 the freedom of righteousness and the law of Christ are to 
 him all in all ; for these he has vanquished every temptation, 
 broken asunder the massive chains of sin, and walks hence- 
 forward with God, in perfect freedom, and with joyful hope. 
 
 There is a practice which, for the resistance of temptation, 
 cannot be too much inculcated, and that is the practice of 
 seeing things in their true nature, and calling them by their 
 right names. If we serve Mammon instead of God, we must 
 abide the consequences of that faith we have espoused ; but 
 do not let us call those things of Heaven which belong to 
 Mammon, or those things of Mammon which belong to God ; 
 if an action is sinful, and unchristian, at least convince your- 
 self that it is sinful, and call it by the name of sin ; — if you 
 are led away by temptation to do that which is injurious to 
 
184 ON TEMPTATION. 
 
 temporal and eternal welfare, state the fact to your own 
 understanding in the truest colours, and the plainest words ; 
 it is your only chance of recovery, your only hope of return- 
 ing to the true shepherd of your souls ; if we use the lan- 
 guage of the world, if we cast a veil over the eye of piety, 
 if with accommodating phrases and plausible pretexts, we seek 
 to call that righteousness which is sin ; to say that is innocent 
 which the warning voice of our Saviour has forbidden ; we 
 are then doomed to hopeless destruction, and not to perish 
 eternally becomes impossible. 
 
 If this plain deahng with ourselves deprives us of any 
 comfort at all, it is of a very ambiguous, and imperfect com- 
 fort ; we may set conscience to sleep, but the sleep of con- 
 science is never sound ; she seems to sleep in agony, and in 
 pain ; and often starts up in wildness and distrust ; the decep- 
 tion which a sinner practices upon himself, is but an half 
 deception, a rude and unskilful art ; he is perpetually review- 
 ing, and appealing from his own decisions, and sees dimly 
 and distantly the fraud which he has exercised upon his 
 soul, without daring to throw upon it the meridian light of 
 truth ; we may deceive ourselves enough to insure the com- 
 mission of sin, but not enough to acquire the comforts of 
 righteousness ;• — in cultivating this inward sincerity, we give 
 up a system of fraud, the peril of which is immeasurable, 
 and in the consolation of which it is not wise to place a mo- 
 ment of firm dependence ; it is not possible to combine together 
 the pleasures of sin and the quiet of righteousness ; but if we 
 are wicked, we must be miserable. 
 
 Then there must be no treaty entered into with the 
 tempter ; no parley, no doubt, no lingering explanation, but 
 clear denial, indicating calm and invincible resistance ; for in 
 this way the souls of men are lost to salvation ; it seems inno- 
 cent to listen, it is no crime to hear what the thing is ; I can 
 always deny, I can always retreat ; I am still master of my 
 own actions. But this is an error, for you cannot deny or 
 retreat, but at the first pause you were lost, and sin and death 
 marked you for their own ; it is madness to combat Avith the 
 eloquence of sin, or to gaze at the pictures of passion; if you 
 dispute with pleasure she will first charm you to silence, 
 then reason you to conviction, then lead you utterly from 
 God ; she wants you only to hear and see ; she requires only 
 one moment's pause ; she knows if you can balance for a point 
 of time, between her present rapture and the distant felicity 
 of Heaven, that you are quite gone ; you must meet tempta- 
 
ON TEMPTATION. ' 1^ 
 
 tion with blind eyes and deaf ears, and with a heart which 
 no more balances whether it shall be virtuous, than it does 
 whether it shall send the blood of life through all the extre- 
 mities and the channels of the bodily frame. 
 
 One of the great instruments for withstanding temptation, 
 and changing our whole nature into a state of grace, is a firm 
 behef in, and perfect assent to the promises of the Gospel, 
 for holy Scripture speaks great word concerning faith. It 
 quenches the fiery darts of the devil, saith St. Paul: it over- 
 comes the world, saith St. John ; it is obedience, it is humi- 
 lity, it is a shield, a breast-plate, a mystery ; by faith God is 
 pleased ; by faith we are sanctified ; by faith we are saved ; 
 by it our prayers shall prevail for the sick ; by it all the mira- 
 cles of the church have been done ; it gives great patience to 
 suffer ; it inspires mighty confidence to hope ; it communi- 
 cates strength to perform ; it imparts infallible certainty to 
 enjoy; but then it is not, we must observe, a notion or opinion 
 situated finally in the understanding, but a principle produc- 
 tive of holy life; not only a believing in the propositions of 
 Scripture, as we believe a proposition in science, for which 
 we are neither the better nor the worse, but a belief of things 
 so great, that no man who can think and choose, who can 
 desire and act towards a definite object that can possibly 
 neglect them; this faith which justifies the faithful, confirms 
 the just and crowns the martyr ; this faith it is, which, plac- 
 ing us above the temptations of the world, will make heaven 
 the end of our desires; God, the object of our worship ; the 
 Scriptures the rule of our actions ; and the Holy Spirit our 
 niighty counsellor and assistant. 
 
 Faith in Christ, such as I have described it to be, is, above 
 all things, likely to afford to us the comfort of general rules ; 
 to give to the inward mind the benefit of good laws firmly 
 administered, the comfort of planning a wise system, and 
 pursuing it steadily, for the misery of yielding incessantly to 
 temptation is, that we live upon no plan, and to no certainty ; 
 we do not advance to a point, but wander to and fro, ignorant 
 to-day whether we are to be good or bad to-morrow ; whether 
 we are to crawl in the dust of this world or to act with the 
 purity of an angel ; but is it not mean and degrading to say, 
 I shall spend this day rationally and piously if I am spared 
 by all the lusts of the flesh ; but if I am tempted by any appe- 
 tite, or goaded by any passion, my piety will be dissipated, 
 and my reason destroyed ; whether I am the servant of righte- 
 
 16* • 
 
186 • ON TEMPTATION. 
 
 ousness or the child of sin, depends upon the accidents of the 
 hour, upon whom I see, and what I hear, and upon all that 
 comes in contact with me. I take from every passing event 
 those inward principles, though I ought, with my inward 
 principles, to impart their character and complexion to all the 
 events of life. 
 
 The general rule which guards us against temptation, must 
 be laid down, and in time it will come to be regarded on its 
 own account ; many things, in themselves innocent, will be 
 avoided on account of their influence upon the rule ; many 
 things which might be omitted, will be done for its preserva- 
 tion ; what we love long for its utihty, we love at last for 
 itself; the rule which has often guarded us from sin, which 
 has saved us from the shame of inconsistency and relapse, 
 becomes at last sanctified and enshrined in our minds ; we 
 guard it with jealousies, we encompass it about with nice 
 feelings, we watch it with lively apprehensions, we remove 
 from it all distant harm and contingent inconvenience ; we 
 love it, and glory in it, and preserve it, as the children of 
 Israel preserved the ark, and the seraphim kept the gates 
 of Paradise. 
 
 But above all things, however often we may be tempted, 
 and however we may yield to temptation, we must beware 
 of despair ; we must never cease to resist, never beheve that 
 God has made the appetites of the body irresistible, and swim 
 down at once in the full torrent of sin from a conviction that 
 it cannot be stemmed. For every temptation with which we 
 can be tempted in this world, in whatever sbape of allurement 
 it may come, there is a power within, given to us by Almighty 
 God, greater and mightier than the temptation ; we have 
 reason to discern between evil and good ; we can look fonvard 
 and discern that good and evil in remote periods of time ; we 
 have freedom to resolve ; we have revelation to teach us what 
 to resolve ; we have laudable pride to animate us in guarding 
 that resolve ; we have shame to prevent us from its infringe- 
 ment, and we have the grace of God and his protecting spirit 
 to sanctify all the good that we intend. Therefore, we will 
 begin ; the terror of sin will be lessened, its triumphs dead- 
 ened, and its strength withered away ; success will be remem- 
 bered ; one victory will ensure another ; we shall meet temp- 
 tation, accustomed to overcome it, with the full aAd certain 
 conviction, that the Saviour of mankind never deserts the 
 humble and contrite spirit, that, in the hour of peril, pours 
 forth his fervent prayer to hinit 
 
•i|^=- 
 
 SERMON XXVII. 
 
 ON TEMPTATION. 
 PART II. 
 
 Then was Jesus led up of the spirit into the wilderness, to be tempted of 
 the devil. — Matthew iv. verse 1. 
 
 In my last discourse upon this subject, I took occasion, 
 from some preliminary observations upon the miraculous 
 temptation of our blessed Saviour, to introduce and discuss 
 the subject of temptation, considering it to be a subject pecu- 
 liarly vsrell adapted to the sacred season of the year at which 
 we are arrived, a season, which it has ever been the practice 
 of the church, in all ages, to observe with peculiar solemnity, 
 and to dedicate to the examination of subjects intimately con- 
 nected with the salvation of mankind. I found it impossible 
 to do justice to so extensive a topic of religion in the compass 
 of a single discourse, and therefore, with the good leave and 
 permission of my congregation, I will now proceed with my 
 observations and conclude them. I shall first go on to specify 
 those general habits of mind which are eminently useful for 
 the withstanding of temptation. 
 
 I have before stated, how very important towards this object 
 is an attachment to general rules, but these general rules, in 
 order to be kept, must be moderate ; they must contain all 
 that the Gospel requires, but no more than the Gospel re- 
 quires ; they ought by no means to exclude the innocent plea- 
 sures of life, or to throw an air of crime over any system 
 of actions which our blessed Saviour, as wise as he was 
 holy, has left opeu to the tastes and inclinations of mankind. 
 There are some men who, with the best possible intentions, 
 would diminish, to the narrowest circle, the extent of human 
 
188 ON TEMPTATION. 
 
 enjoyments, and drive their fellow-creatures to the contem- 
 plation of another world, by rendering this as tasteless and 
 uninteresting as possible. These lessons of severity are 
 the mere inventions of man, not the wisdom of God ; we 
 hear them from mistaken zeal ; we do not read them in 
 the Gospel ; innocent pleasure is, on the contrary, a very 
 great security against sinful pleasure. By taking that good 
 which Almighty God, in his benevolence, has allowed us, 
 we do not feel deprived of everything ; we are often en- 
 couraged to stop there by dint of exertion, often content to 
 stop there without any exertion at all ; but when we deny 
 ourselves those gratifications we may righteously enjoy, we 
 become weary of exaggerated duties, and listen to the seduc- 
 tions of the tempter from finding the burthen of false righte- 
 ousness greater than we have strength to endure ; in seeking 
 to be more than righteous, we become less and are plunged 
 into real sin, because we are too scrupulous to avail ourselves 
 of permitted enjoyment. I speak this against rash vows, 
 overstrained and heated resolutions, needless self-affliction, 
 dread of happiness and all that innumerable train of evils, 
 which false notions of rehgion entail upon mankind. God 
 asks not of us such sacrifices as these ; they have no grateful 
 smftll before him, he rejects them as he rejected the offerings 
 of Cain ; but the great enemy of us all wishes to see this, and 
 loves it, and knows when he can make a man believe that God 
 is one thing, and happiness another, that the soul of that man 
 is his own, that the angels have lamented over him in Hea- 
 ven, that he is lost to Christ. Here am I placed (a man 
 says), in this dull servitude, dead to all joy, combating for- 
 ever with my soul, goaded by appetites which I must not 
 gratify, surrounded with pleasures which I must not approach, 
 restrained by commandments too rigorous for the infirmities 
 of my nature, the member of a religion which overwhelms 
 me with present misery, and promises me future pleasure ; 
 the inhabitant of a world, in which I am placed only to be 
 allured and to be denied. All these feelings are the offspring 
 of a false and overacted severity, and the parents of the foul- 
 est and most abominable sin. What our Saviour instructs 
 us to do is arduous, not impossible ; but it is very easy for 
 human errors to render it impossible ; then cry up to Heaven, 
 to blame God, to say it is too much, to take up the wages of 
 sin and to perish eternally. 
 
 It will diminish our extravagant notions of the strength of 
 
ON TEMPTATION. 189 
 
 temptation, by observing that we are all proof against some 
 temptations, and that these some are all different ; intempe- 
 rance is your sin and it is irresistible ; you cannot conceive 
 how such allurements can be withstood, but you are not sub- 
 ject to gusts of passion and can command yourself upon the 
 fiercest provocation; another man is a slave to irascible feelings 
 and a master of sensual appetites ; this person is tempted by 
 depraved ambition, and wholly exempted from every taint of 
 avarice ; the next would Hve cheerfully in obscurity and is 
 only desirous of accumulating wealth. It is quite certain that 
 you find many temptations easy to be overcome, which to 
 others are highly formidable ; that others find those wholly 
 insignificant, which are formidable to you ; all sin, then, may- 
 be overcome by the grace of Heaven and by the good princi- 
 ples of our nature ; there is no one temptation so strong but 
 that you may see it in the minds of some men completely 
 subdued and utterly disregarded; there is novice which must 
 necessarily and certainly subdue religious firmness ; but the 
 event depends upon how much we struggle and how long ; 
 we may obey or command, we may live in the bondage of 
 Satan or the freedom of God. 
 
 It is a great matter, also, in temptation, not only to gather 
 the powers of our minds for resistance from the daily and 
 common evidence which our nature affords ; but to search 
 diligently the Scriptures for the many examples of chosen 
 men, who, placed in situations of mortal peril, have kept their 
 souls in all purity, spotless, untempted and above the world. 
 The fear of death could not keep Daniel from his worship, nor 
 stop Paul from his way to Jerusalem, nor tempt the weary 
 David to drink of the water, nor cause Shadrack to fall down 
 to the idol. Every apostle was tempted to deny his crucified 
 Saviour, tempted by perils of sea and land, by the weariness 
 of journeying, by the cruelty of barbarous people, among 
 whom they sojourned, by monstrous and unheard-of torments; 
 we deem that we are soon arrived at the extremities of our 
 nature ; we can neither bear ridicule, nor look at terror, nor 
 defy pleasure ; but there are men upon record who shame us 
 out of these narrow hmits, and teach us the true bounds and 
 dimensions of our nature ; who have acted decently in the 
 midst of every pleasure, who have acted bravely in the midst 
 of every danger, and with inflexible duty to God, in the midst 
 of ridicule, outrage and scorn. These men are our masters 
 and our examples ; upon their model we must form ourselves 
 
190 ON TEMPTATION. 
 
 in the great work of pleasing God and saving our souls from 
 the destruction of sin. 
 
 Much of our success in this great warfare depends upon the 
 general views we take of the temptations to which we are 
 exposed; temptations must by no means he considered as 
 needless difficulties; there are other views of this matter which 
 are the true and just views; if any man will show in the 
 Gospel any one prohibition to any one action, which action is 
 neither injurious to him who does it nor to any one else ; then 
 it may be allowed that temptation is an unnecessary hardship; 
 but otherwise it is plain that we are only forbidden to do 
 what it should be injurious to us to do ; and, therefore, the 
 first rule is to connect together resistance of temptation with 
 increase of happiness ; to perceive that we are only enlarging 
 our conceptions of enjoyment by resisting temptation and not 
 pleasing ourselves for the moment that is passing by at the 
 expense of the years that are to come. 
 
 The next rule is not only to connect resistance of tempta- 
 tion with happiness, but to connect it with immortal glory, 
 to consider it as a mean of distinction, an occasion of doing 
 something more difficult and meritorious than any other thing 
 in the whole world. There are many laws of the Gospel 
 which prohibit religious pride ; but none which prohibit 
 religious ambition ; it is not lawful to glory that we are better 
 than other men ; but it is quite lawful, it is quite right, it is 
 quite evangelical to strive to become so : no man strives too 
 hard to outvie others in extirpating from his soul the seeds 
 of corruption, in mastering his own nature, and in sacrificing 
 to God his beloved sins ; no hope is too eager for this, no in- 
 dustry too perfect, no dedication of time and understanding 
 too absorbing, too exclusive and too entire. 
 
 It is quite certain, also, that after the first efforts of temp- 
 tation are overcome, the occupation of bending our minds to 
 religious obedience, of subjugating our inclinations and actions 
 to the dictates of our reason, may be rendered the most in- 
 teresting of all human occupations, as it is certainly the most 
 important. It is ever to be remembered, in reflecting on these 
 matters, that there is an intimate connection between virtues 
 and between vices ; that one virtue fairly established in the 
 character, will probably introduce many others, that one sin 
 corrupting our nature, will generate and nourish many other 
 principles of corruption ; so that in conquering and completely 
 subduing any species of temptation, we gain a double bless- 
 ing and we avoid a double curse, for in freeing ourselves of 
 
ON TEMPTATION. 191 
 
 the sin, we not only are clear of that sin but clear of others, 
 which would have connected themselves with it; and in gain- 
 ing the opposite virtue we gain other virtues associated with 
 it. He who withstands the sin of avarice, withstands the 
 temptation to hardness of heart and callous indifference to 
 human misfortune ; he who has all his bodily appetites in 
 perfect command, gains sweetness of disposition, a love of 
 order and an habit of self-command, which may conduct him 
 to every sublimity of active and passive righteousness and 
 make him the chosen servant of Christ. This last observation 
 is addressed particularly to those who imagine they can in- 
 dulge in any one fault and stop there ; that they can atone 
 for indulgence in a darling vice by abstaining from others for 
 which they have less inchnation ; in the first place this is a 
 mere mockery of God, that an epicure may give himself up 
 to sensuality, if he keeps clear of ambition ; or a meek man 
 sacrifice his pride and console himself by fraud and false- 
 hood; but if it were no offence against religion, it would 
 not be possible to gratify any one single sin and keep our- 
 selves clear from others ; it is so deadly to live in a state of 
 disobedience to the Gospel, to know that you do so and to 
 continue to do so, that there is no evil and no combination of 
 evils which may not be expected from it ; if any man sees in 
 his soul one speck of death and decay, and does not rush to 
 stop it with all the resources of healing righteousness, it will 
 become more dark and more deep at every moment ; it 
 will spread over all his counsels, it will blacken all his 
 thoughts, it will put on the genuine signs and characteristics 
 of hell, and cut him off for ever from the mercy of God. 
 
 If this affinity and connection of sins make temptation so 
 terrible, if, for these reasons, it is so difficult to confine our- 
 selves to any one error, still more difficult is it to proceed to 
 a certain length in any one sin and to stop there ; to say thus 
 far will I be tempted, and no farther; and when I have sinned 
 up to a particular point, I will then put on the spirit of right- 
 eousness and resist ; in truth, the delicate and graduated soft- 
 ness of doing wrong is not to be resisted ; when the first step 
 is made, the descent is so easy, the intervals so gentle, the 
 accommodation so happy, the contrivance so exquisite, that 
 we are far advanced down before we are thoroughly aware of 
 having begun ; there is in fact but one spot where any effect- 
 ual resistance is ever made, and that is at the very beginning; 
 if we give way there, it is quite certain from the common 
 
193 ON TEMPTATION. 
 
 experience of life, that we can rarely or ever return ; and 
 this first step of sin is not what we commonly suppose it to 
 be, action, but thought ; nothing which outwardly appears, 
 but something which inwardly disposes ; what we are to be- 
 ware of in avoiding temptation is, (as our blessed Saviour 
 tells us,) the adultery of the heart, the revenge of the heart, 
 the malice of the heart. The beauty of the Christian religion 
 is, that it does not wait for sin till it is strong and flourishing, 
 but roots it up jiist as the seed is bursting into its pernicious 
 life ; it carries the order and discipline of heaven into our 
 very fancies and conception, and by hallowing the first shad- 
 owy notions of our minds from which actions spring, makes 
 our actions themselves good and holy. 
 
 Prayer in all temptation is ever to be resorted to, for it is 
 much to be believed, that the prayers of men, humbly and 
 honestly asking of their Creator the means of doing well, are 
 heard favourably, granted abundantly, and remembered eter- 
 nally. 
 
 I have thus, to the best of my abilities and from the humble 
 hope of doing good in this and the preceding discourse, passed 
 through the subject of temptation, and I conclude, by remind- 
 ing you of what that season is in which I have brought this 
 subject before you ; a season in which the anniversary of our 
 Saviour's death is now nigh at hand ; the death of him who 
 lived for our instruction and happiness, who expired for our 
 salvation, and who bequeathed to us, at his death, a Gospel, 
 which has diffused more gentleness, more goodness, more real 
 happiness among mankind, than the united wisdom of the 
 wisest sages could ever conceive before him; in addition, 
 therefore, to all other motives for resisting temptation, we have 
 this, — not to render vain that death and that crucifixion ; and 
 after the greatest of all beings has done so much for us, not 
 to cast away his mercy and frustrate his divine goodness, by 
 ceasing diligently to labour for our own salvation. 
 
SERMON XXVIII. 
 
 FOR THE HUMANE SOCIETY 
 
 Attd now I exhort you to be of good cheer, for there shall be no loss of 
 any man's life among you. — Acts xxvii. verse 22. 
 
 *I CONSIDER myself as fortunate that it has fallen to my lot to 
 recommend, from the pulpit, the establishment of an humane 
 society in this neighbourhood for the preservation of life ; 
 because, as I am sure from the benefits it will confer, that it 
 must be long remembered and zealously supported, I cannot 
 but be pleased to connect myself, however humbly and dis- 
 tantly, with that which I believe will impart happiness and 
 security to so many human beings. 
 
 I dare say there are few here present who are unacquainted 
 with the great progress which has been lately made in the 
 art of recovering persons apparently dead ; it appears from 
 the reports of the society established in London, that men 
 have been restored to life nearly an hour after every sign of 
 animation had disappeared, and after they had been given 
 up by common observers as completely dead ; it appears, also, 
 by the records of the same society, that under their exertions 
 and by the means they have recommended, more than three 
 thousand persons have already been restored to life whose pre- 
 servation, but for the skill diffused by the society, would have 
 been considered as impossible. It is of the greatest importance 
 to remember this, because it shows the enormous extent of 
 those accidents which are fatal to life, and the high degree of 
 perfection to which this art of resuscitation is already carried 
 
 * This sermon was preached at Watford, to recommend the institution 
 of an Humane Society, rendered expedient by some very dreadful acci- 
 dents which had recently occurred there. 
 
 17 
 
194 FOR THE HUMANE SOCIETY. 
 
 — four thousand human beings rescued from sudden death. 
 Let any man of common humanity reflect upon the rapturous 
 happiness which this mercy has excited ; the tears which it 
 has dried up ; the broken hearts which it has healed ; the 
 tender relations of life which it has restored ; the dreadful 
 thoughts of everlasting separation which it has spared ; think 
 of this, and there is not a man whose heart and whose under- 
 standing would not urge him to take part in so noble and 
 interesting a charity. Four thousand human beings won, 
 with labour and difficulty, from the grave ; an hour of war 
 would have overwhelmed twice their number, so easy it is 
 to destroy, so difficult to save ; God be thanked that this latter 
 is our task ; that while all Europe is again rushing into arms, 
 we are met together in the name of Christ to see how we 
 can increase the security of life and diminish the victory of the 
 grave.- 
 
 We may consider such sort of institutions as the sure signs 
 of the prevalence of good laws, sound morals, and of a gene- 
 ral state of prosperity ; it is not so much an object that there 
 should be many people, as that those who are, should exist in 
 the greatest attainable comfort, and be exposed to the least pos- 
 sible degree of peril and disturbance. In a savage state man 
 is so often destroyed by the sudden excesses of passion, and 
 subjected to destruction from so many causes, that life is 
 there of less consequence, and men never think of entering 
 into any schemes for its preservation. In poor countries no 
 institutions of charity can flourish ; the attention of mankind 
 cannot rise above their daily wants ; and though life may be 
 respected by their habits and laws, they cannot make any 
 considerable sacrifices for its preservation. In despotic coun- 
 tries it is not life in general which is of importance, but only 
 the life of the rich and great ; there are countries even in 
 Europe where a plan for saving the lives of the lowest classes 
 of society would carry with it an air of ridicule and hyper- 
 bole. Such kind of institutions can only exist in a country 
 where a just administration of just laws has made the life of 
 man of supreme importance ; they can only take place in a 
 country where the Christianity in its best form is universally 
 difl^used ; they can only take place in a country which in- 
 dustry has raised above the common wants of life and which 
 can afl^ord to be munificent in its goodness ; such an attention 
 to human Hfe is the united result of piety, of justice, and of 
 opulence. ^^, 
 
FOR THE HUMANE SOCIETY. 195 
 
 This scheme of benevolence has also a peculiar interest as 
 it connects itself with a knowledge of the human frame, and 
 of the most important laws by which it is regulated. Let no 
 man think that knowledge ever can be impious, or that it has 
 any other limits but the limits of possibility ; whatever secrets 
 of nature man can discover, he is permitted to discover; 
 whatever could not be entrusted to him, is placed beyond his 
 reach ; his efforts may be fruitless, but they cannot be criminal; 
 for it is only by experience he can find out those boundaries 
 which Providence has fixed and those rewards which it has 
 assigned to his labours. It may happen, then, that the science 
 which this charity patronizes may be yet in its infancy ; that 
 it may have new resources for the calamities of life ; fresh 
 consolation for the bitterness of grief; that it may go as far 
 beyond the present art of resuscitation as that art exceeds 
 what was believed to be possible in the times which preceded 
 its invention. 
 
 It must be remembered, too, whatever be the degree to 
 which this art is carried that the institution of an humane 
 society in this neighbourhood secures the practice of that 
 art in its utmost present perfection ; in case pf any dangerous 
 accident you can command all the resources which mechani- 
 cal or medical aid can supply ; and really I cannot well con- 
 ceive what an unhappy man can hereafter say to his heart, 
 who, when such a mean of obviating some of the greatest 
 calamities of life is placed before him ; when it is insisted 
 upon and earnestly pressed upon his attention, hears it with 
 indifference, or rejects it as frivolous or insignificant. Can 
 any person here present who may think the object upon 
 which I am employed to be trifling and inadequate ? can any 
 man pretend to say, before another Sunday summons him to 
 church, that he may not be crying over the dead body of his 
 child ; and lifting up from the ground its poor miserable 
 mother ? and if a man has no children of his own, still is there 
 such a feeling in the world to bring back a child to its parents, 
 to say, I took it up when it was breathless, I never quitted 
 it till life came back; I laboured for the sake of God and for 
 pity, and there is the child yet living? I come here to 
 awaken in you such thoughts as these, to be the humble 
 instrument of good to you and yours ; it is not for any dis- 
 tant objects that I appeal to your compassion, but for the 
 interests of this place and this people ; for scenes which you 
 all may witness, for misfortunes to which you are all exposed. 
 
196 FOR THE HUMANE SOCIETY. 
 
 Every man who has not beheld such scenes as those to 
 which I have alluded, is apt to wonder why they are insisted 
 upon so eagerly, and felt so much ; but those who have seen 
 them wonder that they are not felt more. I have been twice 
 present at the process of resuscitation, and I cannot wish that 
 any person should purchase his feelings of compassion at so 
 dear a rate. I shall not attempt to describe such scenes, but 
 one circumstance no time will ever efface from my mind ; the 
 frantic grief of the mother was not so affecting because it was 
 dreadful and alarming; but when the first symptom of return- 
 ing life appeared, I saw her, a poor labouring woman, kneel- 
 ing with her hands clasped close to the reviving infant; 
 breathing as her child breathed, growing red and growing 
 pale with it ; praying, hoping, fearing with her looks, and 
 gazing immovably on him till the poor lad rose up and knew 
 his mother once more ? Why did we all labour for this 
 wretched woman, who had scarcely clothes to cover her or 
 bread to eat ? we did it without thought or reflection, because 
 we found ourselves irresistibly called upon to make such an 
 exertion ; and so are you called upon to minister to such 
 anguish, to prevent such misery, to hghten that load of sor- 
 row which presses down the heart of man in the sad journey 
 of life. 
 
 Man is not discontented to part with those whom he loves 
 in old age ; when the fair career of life is run he feels such 
 losses ; but he knows they are the inevitable laws of nature, 
 the condition upon which he lives ; he knows this, and such 
 an habitual style of thinking brings his affliction within the 
 limits of reason; it operates, too, as some diminution of 
 wretchedness where there has been a previous warning, and 
 a gradual diminution of hope as in a long illness ; but there 
 is no heart strong enough to support the sudden loss of kin- 
 dred and of children. " It was only an hour ago that I was 
 playing with my child ; and when I came back I saw the 
 hope and pride of my life lying dead and breathless upon 
 the ground." It is too much for man to bear ; it is the bitter- 
 est dreg in the cup of God's wrath ; a man may live after 
 it ; but I defy him to taste of happiness ever again, or to 
 know what is meant by tranquillity and peace. 
 
 It is a subject of great delicacy to touch upon ; but let it 
 be remembered, we concern ourselves, not only with the con- 
 sequences of accidental, but of intentional death ; we stop the 
 impious temerity of the suicide ; we call back to hfe, to duty, 
 
FOR THE HUMANE SOCIETY. 197 
 
 to shame the man who is retiring from the world before God 
 and nature summon him away ? We keep back a spirit 
 from the torments of hell ; we seize upon the first dawnings 
 of returning reason, to teach him that he must never abandon 
 his confidence in Heaven. We spare to wretched women and 
 children, a spectacle of infamy and horror ; we give back a 
 son to parents, a parent to children, a citizen to the state, a 
 repentant man to all the duties, charities and relations of life; 
 it is astonishing that any wise and reflecting mind should 
 attempt to underrate the grievous sin of suicide ; — putting 
 aside all higher considerations, what sort of doctrine does it 
 tend to inculcate ? " It is of no sort of importance to me, to 
 labour slowly and systematically, to estabhsh a reputation in 
 the world ; I will eat and drink, for to-morrow I can die ; I 
 will plunder, dissipate and destroy ; and when the vengeance 
 of mankind is faUing too heavily upon me, the remedy is in 
 my own hands ; he who is careless of his own life, has no- 
 thing to fear from any human being." It is not only this 
 style of thinking and acting which is to be apprehended 
 from the frequency of suicide ; but no man stands insulated 
 from the world, no man can dispose of his own life, without 
 affecting, in the deepest manner, the happiness of many other 
 human beings, who have acquired certain rights over every 
 important action of his life. I pass over, at present, the reli- 
 gious offence ; I speak only of the alarm, the agony, the dis- 
 turbance, the universal horror, which such a crime occasions, 
 if we diminish (as we do most clearly diminish), all this train 
 of evils ; then, surely, upon every plea of reason and feeling, 
 upon every principle of the Gospel, is our society entitled to 
 your protection and support. 
 
 There is something in the very idea of the art of reviving 
 the apparently dead, which cannot fail to inspire the feelings 
 of solemnity and religion. Is there life yet in the body, or 
 is the soul of this man gone to render account of the good 
 and the evil it has done at the judgment seat of God ? Is it 
 merely perishable matter with which we are occupied, that 
 to-morrow will be laid in its grave ? or will it once more be 
 informed by a reasonable soul and agitated by passions? are 
 the days of his years come to an end, or will he remain to act 
 a valuable and important part upon the theatre of the world ? 
 Ihen what is this life, which we are calling back with such 
 eager and incessant care ? whence comes it ? how went it 
 away ? — what is it ? The flesh is not life, nor the blood, nor 
 
 17* 
 
198 FOR THE HUMANE SOCIETY. 
 
 the complicated system of nerves ; the eye cannot see it, nor 
 can it be subjected to any sense, nor has reason explained and 
 defined it ; it is a thought which baffles inquiry, inspires ter- 
 ror, teaches wisdom, humbles the most aspiring being, by 
 telling him that there is a Creator, a master ; and then, too, a 
 punisher above. 
 
 You see before you, too, on such occasions, and see with 
 no common interest, a man who has tasted of death ; who has 
 been subjected to that agony which we all must feel, and 
 exposed to that peril which we all at last must meet ; how 
 natural to ask, " What were your feelings at such a moment ? 
 In what shape, in what array, with what host of terrors, with 
 what new and stupendous machinery of feelings, does death 
 come ? What is it at which we all recoil with so much 
 horror, and which we learn, from our earliest youth, to con- 
 sider as the great bane of human happiness ?" But upon 
 such points as these, the veil of nature cannot be penetrated, 
 nor can living beings know the dreadful mysteries beyond 
 the grave ; this we know, however, from the universal assur- 
 ance of all who have been exposed to this anticipation of 
 death, that their last recollections have been the mercy and 
 protection of God ; that they descended, as they thought, to 
 death, calling on his name, and supplicating his forgiveness; 
 that this was the last notion with which they seemed to re- 
 sign the world. And so it always is with us all ; religion is 
 natural and necessary to the heart of man ; where else can 
 that being seek for succour, who is in death, in the midst of 
 life ? what other hope, in the perils of land, or water ; on the 
 bed of sickness ; in the hour of death ; in the day of judg- 
 ment ? Do not mind what the ministers of religion say, but 
 in all the stupendous events of life, if you find men falling 
 back upon religion, not only as their greatest, but as their 
 only consolation ; if those, who have thought themselves 
 perishing in secret, tell you that at that dread moment, it 
 was the rod and staff* upon which they leant ; this is one 
 of those powerful and unprepared evidences in favour of 
 religion, which outweighs all that eloquence and argument 
 can produce. 
 
 I am afraid, that I have already extended what I have to 
 say to an improper length, but I am most anxious to succeed 
 in my object, and to prevent a repetition of those melancholy 
 scenes which have given to us all so much pain; think 
 what it is to save one father for his children ; to rescue one 
 
FOR THE HUMANE SOCIETY. 199 
 
 child from untimely death ; to diminish so much alarm ; to 
 diffuse so much heartfelt joy ; to place under the control of 
 skill and prudence some of the bitterest calamities of the 
 world. God knows how often the life of man has been cast 
 away ; the httle account that has been made of it in all the 
 great changes and revolutions of the world ; the millions 
 which have perished for some object which they did not 
 comprehend, and by which they could not benefit ; it is 
 delightful to think, amid all the works of bad ambition, amid 
 all the groans and bleedings of the earth, that in some little 
 part of the world, at least, men are occupied with the preser- 
 vation of life ; that there are some human beings, who can 
 derive the highest gratification in restoring to those who love 
 him the lowest and poorest of mankind. These thoughts 
 are pleasant and refreshing ; they do honour to those with 
 whom they originated ; I am sure they must produce the 
 happiest effects in this neighbourhood; and I sincerely implore 
 the blessing of Almighty God upon so wise, so humane, and 
 so Christian an undertaking. 
 
::i^M^^^0^^~%f^" 
 
 SERMON XXIX- 
 
 ON THE EFFECTS WHICH CHRIS 
 TIANITY OUGHT TO PRODUCE 
 UPON MANNERS. 
 
 The fruits of the spirit are love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, 
 goodness, &c. — Galatians v. verse 25. 
 
 In this epistle to the Galatians, as in many parts of his 
 writings, St. Paul distinguishes between the works of the 
 flesh and of the spirit; meaning by the first, the gratification 
 of those bad appetites and passions incidental to our nature; 
 and by the last, those virtues which we are taught by the 
 Christian rehgion. 
 
 The catalogue of natural vices exhibits a true and disgust- 
 ing picture of man untaught and unpurified by his Creator. 
 The works of the flesh, says he, are hatred, variance, strife, 
 wrath, emulations, envyings and seditions. But the Chris- 
 tian religion teaches another mind ; the fruits of that spirit it 
 would inculcate are love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentle- 
 ness and goodness. In this manner, the general scope of 
 Christianity is pointed out in a few words, and a test afforded 
 us by which we may estimate our progress in religion. 
 
 We say, in our language, to seize on the spirit of a thing : 
 we talk of the spirit of our political constitution, of the spirit 
 of our civil and criminal law ; and we seem to mean by the 
 expressions, those few leading principles which uniformly 
 pervade these respective codes, and give them consistency of 
 character ; in this sense the apostle unfolds to us the spirit of 
 Christianity, the object and tendency of all its laws ; they are 
 instituted to increase love and affection amongst mankind ; to 
 make us happy, to diffuse peace, to inculcate mutual forbear- 
 ance, gentleness, goodness and meekness. 
 
ON THE EFFECTS WHICH CHRISTIANITY, <fec. 201 * 
 
 The fruits of the spirit are love. — By love the apostle means 
 philanthropy, the general love of our fellow-creatures, a 
 passion dwelling more often on the lip than in the heart, and 
 rather a theme on which we declaim, than a motive from 
 which we act. The mass of us who are called Christians 
 do not hate our fellow-creatures, but we do not love them. 
 Misanthropy is a compound of ill-temper, disappointment and 
 folly, which does not often occur. But most men are indif- 
 ferent to that part of the species which is out of the pale of 
 their own private acquaintance ; the cry of public wretched- 
 ness never reaches them ; they never seek for hidden misery ; 
 they shrink from that courageous benevolence which wades 
 through mockery, and contempt, and horror, to curb the in- 
 famous with laws, and comfort the poor with bread ; and when 
 the rain and the tempest blacken the earth, they gather 
 round their comforts within ; and make fast the bars of their 
 gate against the crying Lazarus, and leave his sores to the 
 dogs, and his head to the storm. 
 
 Again, nothing can be more dissimilar from the fruits of the 
 spirit than that little indulgence which our mutual faults ex- 
 perience one from the other. The character and conduct of 
 those with whom we live, are not only a very natural but a 
 very necessary object of inquiry ; we should live and act in 
 the dark, if we were not to make it so ; but the strong tend- 
 ency to injustice and ill nature is the thing to be corrected. 
 Tear the veil off your heart, and look at it steadily and bold- 
 ly ; for a keener eye than yours shall one day pierce into 
 its darkest chambers. Is there no secret wish to find the im- 
 putation true, by which another is degraded ? Is there no 
 secret fear that it should be refuted? Do these sentiments 
 never lurk under the affectation of pity and condolence ? Have 
 you never concealed those circumstances and considerations 
 which you knew would extenuate the guilt of an absent and 
 an accused person? Have you never sat in the prudent 
 ecstasy of silence, and seen the frame of a good or an eminent 
 man mangled before your eyes ? Have you never given 
 credit and circulation to improbable evidence of crime ? Have 
 you examined the guilt of your neighbour, as you would 
 examine the guilt of jbur child, in heaviness of heart and in 
 all the reluctant wretchedness of conviction ? Have you 
 never added to evil report ? never in a bad hour and with 
 accursed tongue, and with unblushing face, heaped up in- 
 famy on a better man than yourself; and spoken that which 
 
202 ON THE EFFECTS WHICH CHRISTIANITY 
 
 was false of the helpless, the good, the wise, or the great ? 
 And if you have done it, if it form the daily habit of your 
 life, what title have you to the name of Christian ? Or of 
 what right do you call on Jesus, the merciful and the good? 
 Be not deceived ; God is never scorned. Think you that he 
 who set at nought the idle sacrifice of the Jews, who would 
 not eat bulls' flesh, or drink the blood of goats, will be mocked 
 with bended knees and uplifted hands ? Are we the disciples 
 of Christ because we stand at this prayer, and rise at that, 
 and sanctify the face, and strain at trifles, and fill the temple 
 with the cry of God, God, and Lord, Lord ? If these are our 
 notions of religion, we walk on deceitful ashes, which will 
 plunge our bodies in flame. Christ came down from the 
 mercy-seat of God to heal our woes, and minister to our in- 
 firmities, to soften the nature of man, and to bend his heart 
 to mercy. If you truly venerate his holy name, walk in that 
 spirit with which he walked on the earth ; forgive as you 
 would be forgiven ; do unto others as you would they should 
 do unto you ; judge your brethren in mercy, be slow to con- 
 demn, and swift to forgive ; bearing always upon you the 
 fruits of the spirit, peace, long-suffering, gentleness and good- 
 ness. 
 
 Another cause equally fatal to our progress in Christianity, 
 is that proud contest for superiority, so strongly observable in 
 society. 
 
 Few human creatures, indeed, are eminent either for birth, 
 fortune, beauty, learning, or anything on which the world 
 sets a value, without considering such distinctions as a justifi- 
 cation of pride in themselves, or the want of it as a mark of 
 degradation in others. The sole object for which they mingle 
 in society, is to display what they possess, and to insinuate 
 what the rest of the world want. Their intercourse with 
 their fellow-creatures is an eternal mixture of ostentation and 
 sarcasm ; and they would seem to be certain beings of a su- 
 perior order, made by some other God, and hoping for a more 
 select salvation. The effect of Christian faith upon daily be- 
 haviour is often, indeed, scarcely discernible, if it exists at all; 
 every one is the greatest in his own eyes ; our forms of speech 
 only are humble, our hearts are full of disdain, and Christians 
 in this house are mere creatures of the world when they leave 
 it. And yet there is nothing in the humility of a Christian 
 incompatible with the elegance of* a gentleman ; and that 
 polish of manners on which the world places so great, and 
 
OUGHT TO PRODUCE UPON MANNERS. 203 
 
 perhaps so merited a value, proceeds chiefly from the indi- 
 cation of quaHties, which it is so much the object of the Chris- 
 tian rehgion to diffuse. A man of graceful behaviour coun- 
 terfeits humiUty, throws a veil over his advantages and per- 
 fections ; he discovers concealed merit, brings it into light, 
 and gives it brilliancy and force. — Nobody has any fault be- 
 fore him ; he is in appearance gentle, long-suffering and be- 
 nevolent. There is hardly any one Christian quality which 
 a man, actuated by the mere vanity of pleasing, does not as- 
 sume to effect his object. Such oblique evidences in favour 
 of Christianity is not without force, and shows that the dis- 
 position of mind which it labours to inculcate, is precisely 
 that which would render human happiness the greatest, by 
 rendering society the most delightful ; much more delightful 
 than it ever can be, when we varnish over heart-burnings, 
 jealousies, envyings and seditions, with Christian faces, and 
 more than Christian language. 
 
 There must exist in society distinction of rank, as well as 
 difference of natural endowments and attainments the effect 
 of study ; but God ordained this inequality amongst mankind 
 for wiser purposes than to minister to the pride of one being, 
 and to wound the spirit of another ; the mere knowledge of 
 our superiority is not criminal, and indeed is frequently ine- 
 vitable. It is the internal pride and contemptuous treatment 
 of others, founded on such consciousness of superiority, which 
 violate a law of the Gospel most frequently repeated, and most 
 clearly explained. 
 
 After all take some quiet, sober moment of life, and add 
 together the two ideas of pride and of man ; behold him, a 
 creature of a span high, stalking through infinite space in all 
 the grandeur of littleness : Perched on a httle speck of the 
 universe, every wind of heaven strikes into his blood the 
 coldness of death; his souls fleets from his body like melody 
 from the string ; day and night as dust on the wheel, he is 
 rolled along the heavens, through a labyrinth of worlds, and 
 all the systems and creations of God are flaming above and 
 beneath. Is this a creature to revel in his greatness ? Is 
 this a creature to make to himself a crown of glory ; to deny 
 his own flesh and blood ; and to mock at his fellow sprung 
 from that dust to which they both will soon return ? Does the 
 proud man not err ? Does he not suffer? Does he not die ? 
 When he reasons is he never stopped by difficulties ? When 
 he acts is he never tempted by pleasures ? When he lives is he 
 
204 ON THE EFFECTS WHICH CHRISTIANITY 
 
 free from pain ? When he dies can he escape from the com- 
 mon grave ? Pride is not the heritage of man ; humility 
 should dwell with frailty, and atone for ignorance, error and 
 imperfection. 
 
 It is not merely with gross acts of vice, or with splendid 
 virtues that Christianity is conversant ; this is not the true 
 genius and nature of our religion ; it descends even to that 
 turn of mind and sentiment which fashions the deportment 
 of man to man ; it not only guards society from daring enor- 
 mities, but would render our lives more happy by endearing 
 cares and engaging attentions; it teaches man to be gentle, 
 and kind to his fellow, to forbear with him, to forgive foibles, 
 to forget injuries, to cheer the lowly with glad words and 
 kind looks. This civil and gracious spirit is, perhaps, the 
 truest test of our progress in Christianity. Every one is 
 subject to occasional fits of generosity, but a humane conside- 
 ration, a rational indulgence for others, evinced by a constant 
 sweetness of manner, is, perhaps, the most indisputable proof 
 that Christianity has sunk deeply and intimately into the 
 heart. Do not let this seem a frivolous and inadequate object 
 for a Divine lawgiver ; it owes its importance to the moral 
 constitution of man. The causes of great happiness and 
 misery rarely occur; little circumstances and events that 
 appear trifling, singly considered, make up the sum of human 
 enjoyment or misery. The retrospect of our past lives will 
 show us that the greatest misfortune we have suffered, is the 
 sum total of useless vexation inflicted on ourselves and others 
 from the want of this Christian restraint upon temper and 
 Christian incitement to benevolence. 
 
 Men are more pained by affront than by injury ; affront im- 
 plies the absence of esteem and the presence of contempt ; and 
 to gain the one and to avoid the other, seems to be almost the 
 ruling passion of our lives. For wherefore are the greater 
 part of mankind studious of riches, but from the consequence 
 they reflect on their possessor? Of what good are hidden beauty 
 or concealed talent, or secret splendour of descent ? All these 
 we covet, as they enable us to move with greater dignity in 
 the world. What is the sting of poverty ? not the privation 
 of luxuries, but ridicule and contempt, which men die daily 
 to avoid, because they fear them worse than death. Esteem 
 is the great stake for which we all play: and to show a hu- 
 man being, not rendered infamous from crime, that you d€- 
 
OUGHT TO PRODUCE UPON MANNERS. 205 
 
 spise him, is a cruelty which savours little of that gentle 
 religion we profess or that merciful Redeemer we adore. 
 
 The worldly motives to cultivate the fruits of the spirit 
 (though subordinate of course to those of religion), are nume- 
 rous and strong. The resentment which proceeds from con- 
 tempt, is as much to he feared as the affection excited by 
 courteous treatment is to be desired and cherished. It is 
 wretched policy to stimulate any human being to a keen in- 
 spection of our follies and our faults, for no character can 
 bear the microscopic scrutiny of vindictive anger. Contempt 
 never passes unobserved, is seldom forgiven, and always 
 returned with a rapid accumulation of interest. Everybody 
 makes league against insolence ; the misfortunes of an inso- 
 lent man are a public rejoicing ; his vices are exaggerated, 
 his motives falsified, and his virtues forgotten ; he must humble 
 himself in dust and ashes, before the world can or will forgive 
 him. Whereas that security which arises from a conscious- 
 ness of being generally beloved, is the great soother of life 
 and the most delightful sensation that any human being can 
 enjoy. He who affects to despise the verdict, which the great 
 tribunal of the world passes on his life and fame, says that 
 which is not true, or that which is shameful if it be true; 
 the delicacy of our feelings, with regard to public opinion, 
 is extreme. To hear that we have been the subject of 
 conversation in our absence creates a sensation of anxious 
 alarm ; we glance instantly at the weak parts of our character, 
 at the offence or the benevolence we have previously awak- 
 ened in our judges ; and our hearts die within us, if we learn 
 that we have been the object of general condemnation ; but 
 to reflect that we are beloved as widely as we are known, to 
 think that there are many absent human beings, who bear to 
 us the seeds of good will, kindness and esteem, is a senti- 
 ment which cheers the sadness of life ; we shall live so as 
 never to lose it ; it breathes a grateful tranquillity on the 
 soul ; it is a firm barrier against the waves of chance, a last- 
 ing, solid happiness, which we bear about us, like strength 
 and health earned by temperance and toil. If ye would then 
 that men should love you, love ye also them ; not with gen- 
 tleness of face alone and the shallow mockery of smiles ; but 
 in singleness of heart, in forbearance, judging mercifully, 
 entering into the mind of thy brother, to spare his pains, to 
 prevent his wrath, to be unto him an eternal fountain of peace. 
 These are the fruits of the spirit, and this the soul which 
 18 
 
206 ON THE EFFECTS WHICH CHRISTIANITY, &C. 
 
 emanates from our sacred religion. If we bear these fruits 
 now in the time of this Hfe ; if we write these laws on the 
 tablets of our hearts, so as we not only say but do them, then 
 indeed are we the true servants of Jesus and the children of 
 his redemption. For us he came down from Heaven ; for us 
 he was scorned and hated upon earth ; for us mangled on the 
 cross ; and, at the last day, when the trumpet shall sound, and 
 the earth melt, and the heavens groan and die, we shall spring 
 up from the dust of the grave the ever living spirits of God. 
 
SEEMON XXX. 
 
 FOR THE SWISS. 
 
 The mountains are melted with their blood. — Isaiah xxxiv. verse 3. 
 
 With the pleeisure which I always feel in addressing you 
 on any subject of charity, may be mingled, perhaps, on this 
 particular occasion some distant sense of national honour and 
 some small share of national pride ; for it has ever been the 
 memorable privilege of this island to stand forward as the 
 early and eager champion of all the miseries of man ; and 
 though other nations may have fought and may have gained 
 in arms and in arts a name equally glorious with our own, none 
 have ever cherished the wretched stranger as we have done ; 
 none have so sheltered the weary exile of other lands ; none 
 have ministered with such melting humanity, to aliens in 
 speech and blood, who kneeled before us venerable in misery 
 and pleaded the kindred of misfortune. For when did any 
 people ever fall from their high estate, and there was no one 
 of us to lament them ? When was any country ever smitten 
 and afflicted, and we did not lift them up from the dust ? What 
 victims of war, of tyranny, and persecution have we ever 
 driven back from our shores ? What species of sorrow have 
 we rejected? What shape of misery have we despised ? 
 
 It is pleasant to hear of the virtues of our country ; the good 
 deeds our fathers have done, warm our hearts to mercy ; their 
 generation is passed away, and they are all sleeping in their 
 tombs : but as their blood gives us life, so may their noble 
 thoughts yet dwell in the bosoms of their children. 
 
 When the poor Palatines presented themselves at the gates 
 of the metropolis, every British heart was roused to a pitch of 
 enthusiasm for their relief. It could not be endured that a 
 sad and motley crowd of men and women should lie on the 
 
208 FOR THE SWISS. 
 
 bare ground, under the open wintry heaven, begging humbly 
 and piteously for food ; they drank of our cup : they were 
 warmed with the fleece of our sheep ; the tears of these poor 
 creatures were dried up, and their hearts opened to new pros- 
 pects of joy. 
 
 Not less conspicuous was the charity of this island at that 
 dreadful epoch when the city of Lisbon was overturned by 
 an earthquake, and one dreadful day made of a beautiful 
 metropolis a heap of hideous ruins. It was from the quick 
 and efficacious bounty of the British people, that they expe- 
 rienced the first dawn of relief; the blessings of all ranks of 
 j^eople were showered upon us. King and peasant were 
 melted by our compassion ; and wretched mothers that lin- 
 gered weeping over the stones of the city, which covered the 
 mangled bodies of their children, could spare one prayer to 
 Heaven for their benefactors and their friends. 
 
 Why should I remind you of the late unparalleled instance 
 of goodness and generosity shown to the poor French emi- 
 grants ? a generosity which want and privation of every kind 
 have not been able to relax, or to extinguish. In the midst of 
 a bloody war, carried on by their own countrymen for our 
 destruction, we have expended millions in support of the 
 French who have sought an asylum amongst us ; and while 
 the blood of our brothers and our friends has been flowing 
 from the swords of their kindred, they have lived tranquilly 
 amongst us, in the peace of our laws, and the plenty of our 
 land. 
 
 Induced by these splendid examples of national feeling, 
 the poor people of Switzerland come tremblingly before you, 
 to beg some small relief in their wretchedness. They come 
 to you, not with the looks of freemen, but in tears, and in 
 chains, naked, hungered, and broken-hearted. The valleys yet 
 ring with their cries, the mountains are wet with their blood; 
 they have been smitten, and slaughtered, and spoiled. Swit- 
 zerland is begging to Europe for charity ! — Switzerland, 
 where the humblest peasant would have blushed to have 
 sought his support, but from the strength of his arm, and the 
 energy of his mind ! — Switzerland, which seemed one vast 
 family, ruled by the same spirit of activity ! — Switzerland, 
 where simplicity, and peace, and joy, had fled from courts 
 and empires, to dwell in the awful bosom of her eternal 
 mountains. 
 
 I cannot but feel some little embarrassment in pressing the 
 
^1 
 
 'FOR THE SWISS. 209 
 
 misfortunes of the Swiss upon your notice, when the neces- 
 sities of your own poor seem to put in so much more imperi- 
 ous a claim to your generosity. But this claim of your own 
 poor, it should be remembered, has been already heard, and 
 allowed ; a very large sum has been subscribed for their 
 Telief, and a much larger sum would, if it were necessary, 
 be raised with the same facility. 
 
 Neither does it follow, that the pittance raised upon this 
 occasion, should be subtracted from your domestic charities. 
 In the present posture of affairs, many good people will be, I 
 am sure, induced to sacrifice somewhat of their amusements, 
 or even of their comforts, to their conviction of the general 
 miseries of Europe ; and upon this truly Christian spirit, you 
 must allow me to say, from my present experience of this 
 country, that I place the firmest and most rational reliance. 
 Besides, too, I never will subscribe to that doctrine, which, 
 confines the feelings of humanity to the more wealthy and 
 educated classes of mankind. The poor feel acutely for those 
 whose miseries are greater than their own. Suff*ering as 
 the peasantry are in this melancholy season of scarcity, if it 
 were possible to give them a clear conception of the ancient 
 state of society in Switzerland, of that happiness from which 
 the Swiss have been precipitated, and the abject misery to 
 which they have been reduced, do you think they would 
 grudge to these poor creatures the charity you may extend 
 to them ? No ! suffering as they are, they would break off' a 
 morsel of their bread for the poor Swiss, and would cheer- 
 fully add another pang of hunger to the sorrows of their 
 hearts. 
 
 Amidst all the enormities of the French Revolution, no one 
 circumstance perhaps has excited such general sympathy 
 and indignation as the fall of Switzerland. With the name 
 of Switzerland have been connected, from our earliest years, 
 all the worthy feelings of the heart, and all the exquisite 
 beauties of nature ; all that the eye of taste, or the soul of 
 benevolence could require ; a race of brave, and happy, and 
 good men animated her solemn rocks and glens ; the climbing 
 step of freedom had scanned the summit of the mountains, 
 the unwearied hand of labour had drawn from the barren 
 rock sustenance for man ; the peasant, with his plough, and 
 his sword, and his book, was at once a tiller of the earth, a 
 soldier and a Christian. Happiness never w^as more com- 
 plete, imagination could not paint a more enviable lot upon 
 
 J8* 
 
210 FOR THE SWISS. 
 
 earth, or could the earth afford it. For six hundred years 
 they had remained firm as their native mountains, amidst all 
 the convulsions of Europe ; for two hundred years they had 
 hardly drawn the sword, or never drawn it but to conquer. 
 " They were a chosen land, beloved of God ; and while the 
 wrathful hail smote the lands about them, in their fields was 
 no hail seen." 
 
 Into these hallowed retreats, in the midst of a solemn truce, 
 in spite of the strict neutrality observed by the Swiss, and 
 the solemn and repeated promises of their own government, 
 burst the common enemies of mankind, hot from the carnage, 
 and reeking with the blood of other nations. They came to 
 no new work of horror ; they had murdered other innocents, 
 and pillaged other temples, and wasted other lands. They 
 could dye the silvered hair of the aged man with his own 
 blood ; they could curse the tears of women, and dash down 
 the suckling babe as he lifted up his meek eyes for mercy. 
 
 In the midst of such horrid scenes as these, many actions 
 of heroic valour characterized the last days of Switzerland ; 
 and she died with her face ever turned to the enemy, slowly 
 yielding, and fiercely struggling to the last. In the final bat- 
 tle, fought near the environs of the capital, (fought, as said 
 the French, on their part, for the liberation of the Swiss peo- 
 ple,) one hundred and sixty women were left dead upon the 
 field of battle, mangled almost to atoms ; still greater numbers 
 perished at Nurenburg, at Laupen, and Lengnau, fighting 
 with madness for all they loved upon earth, and throwing 
 their comely bleeding bodies before their husbands and their 
 children. At Oberland, an old peasant was observed in arms, 
 fighting amidst his three children, and his seven grandchildren; 
 they sustained the combat with inconceivable bravery, calling 
 upon each other by name tenderly ; the children thronging 
 about the old man, and guarding with their manly limbs the 
 hoary head of their parent. They were all murdered ; and 
 in a moment of time, this valiant race was blotted from the 
 book of living men. 
 
 In the midst of all, wherever bravery, and wherever coun- 
 sel were needed, was their truly great and intrepid leader ;* 
 not now, as you might think, in the fullness of strength and 
 youth, but an old man of seventy years of age, who, for half 
 a century, had ruled the affairs of the republic with the utmost 
 
 * Steigner, 
 
FOR THE SWISS. 211 
 
 wisdom and justice, and found himself, at the close of life, 
 when ease and retirement, crowned with honour, are so 
 sweet, combating in the midst of armed peasants, for the 
 existence of his country. He had ever warned the Swiss of 
 the dangers to which they were exposed, but unfortunately 
 in vain. At the moment of actual peril, his age and his in- 
 firmities would have allowed him to retire without disgrace ; 
 but there are men who are ruled by something within, which 
 they dread more than the judgment of the world. He who 
 had guided his country in the days of her tranquillity, could 
 not forsake her in her troubles. The miseries of Switzerland 
 made her doubly dear to this good man ; and, like a true 
 leader of the people, he led them in the day of death and 
 battle. The people are never ignorant who is fit to lead them ; 
 they rushed after him like the angel of the living God ; and 
 every Swiss peasant, who was stabbed at his feet, cast his 
 lingering eyes on this great man, and when he saw him yet 
 breathing, died in peace. 
 
 I ought perhaps to apologize to you for thus occupying 
 your time from the pulpit with the praises of individuals ; but 
 I could not let such an occasion pass, without saying a few 
 words on so memorable a man. I paint to you the genius of 
 the people, in showing you the extraordinary characters to 
 which such an epoch gave birth. You see what a nation 
 has been destroyed; you see the full extent of crime, for 
 which the French have become amenable to the whole human 
 race. Besides, too, if at any future time it shall please Al- 
 mighty God to expose this country to similar perils ; if these 
 robbers of the earth are still suffered to mock at all living 
 men, to shiver to pieces crowns and sceptres, and hurl down 
 princes, and potentates, and thrones, and dominations ; and 
 if there be in this church any young man, destined by his 
 great talents, to lead the people at such an awful crisis ; let 
 him learn from the life of this illustrious leader, to despise 
 every system of temporizing poHcy, to see that there are 
 times when magnanimity is prudence, when despair is wis- 
 dom; like him, ever looking up to God ; and guided by the 
 light of beautiful and manly principles, let him move forwards 
 in one even tenour, through all times, and seasons, and cir- 
 cumstances, and events. 
 
 The vengeance which the French took of the Swiss for 
 their determined opposition to the invasion of their country, 
 was decisive and terrible. The history of Europe can afford 
 
212 FOR THE SWISS. 
 
 no parallel of such cruelty. To dark ages, and the most 
 barbarous nations of the east, we must turn for similar scenes 
 of horror, and perhaps must turn in vain. The soldiers dis- 
 persed over the country, carried fire, and sword, and robbery 
 into the most tranquil and hidden valleys of Switzerland. 
 From the depth of sweet retreats echoed the shrieks of mur- 
 dered men, stabbed in their humble dwellings, under the 
 shadow of the high mountains, in the midst of those scenes 
 of nature, which make solemn and pure the secret thoughts 
 of man, and appal him with the majesty of God. The flying 
 peasants saw, in the midst of the night, their cottages, their 
 implements of husbandry, and the hopes of the future year, 
 expiring in one cruel conflagration. The men were shot 
 upon the slightest provocation ; innumerable women, after 
 being exposed to the most atrocious indignities, were mur- 
 dered, and their bodies thrown into the woods. In some 
 instances this conduct was resented ; and for symptoms of 
 such an honourable spirit, the beautiful town of Altsdorf was 
 burnt to the ground, and a single house left to show where 
 it had stood. The town of Stantz, a town peculiarly dear to 
 the Swiss, as it gave birth to one of the founders of their 
 liberty, was reduced to a heap of cinders. In this town, in 
 the fourteenth century, a Swiss general surprised, and took 
 prisoner, the Austrian commander who had murdered his 
 father ; he forgave him, upon the simple condition of his not 
 serving any more against the Swiss Cantons. When the 
 French got possession of this place, they burnt it to ashes ; 
 not in a barbarous age, but now, yesterday, in an age we call 
 philosophical ; they burnt it because the inhabitants endea- 
 voured to preserve their liberty. The Swiss was a simple 
 peasant ; the French are a mighty people, combined for the 
 regeneration of Europe. Oh, Europe, what dost thou owe to 
 this mighty people ? dead bodies, ruinous heaps, broken 
 hearts, waste places, childless mothers, widows, orphans, 
 tears, endless confusion, and unutterable woe. For this 
 mighty nation we have suffered seven years of unexampled 
 wretchedness, a long period of discord, jealousy, privation 
 and horror, which every reflecting man would almost wish 
 blotted out from his existence. By this mighty people the 
 Swiss have lost their country ; that country which they 
 loved so well, that if they heard but the simple song of their 
 childhood, tears fell down every manly face, and the hearts 
 of intrepid soldiers sobbed with grief. What, then, is all this 
 
FOR THE SWISS. 213 
 
 done with impunity ? Are the thunders of God dumb ? 
 Are there no lightnings in his right hand ? Pause a Httle 
 before you decide on the ways of Providence ; tarry and see 
 what will come to pass. There is a solemn and awful cou- 
 rage in the human heart, placed there by God himself, to 
 guard man against the tyranny of his fellows, and while this 
 lives, the world is safe. There slumbers even now, perhaps, 
 upon the mountains of Switzerland, some youthful peasant, 
 unconscious of the soul he bears, that shall lead down these 
 bold people from their rocks to such deeds of courage as they 
 have heard with their ears, and their fathers have declared 
 unto them; to such as were done in their days, and in the old 
 time before them, by those magnanimous rustics, who first 
 taught foohsh ambition to respect the wisdom, and the spirit 
 of simple men, righteously and honestly striving for every 
 human blessing. 
 
 Let me go on a little further in this dreadful enumeration. 
 More than thirty villages were sacked in the Canton of Berne 
 alone ; not only was all the produce of the present year 
 destroyed, but as the cattle unfit for human food were 
 slaughtered, and the agricultural implements burnt, the cer- 
 tainty of famine was entailed upon them for the ensuing year; 
 at the end of all this military execution, civil exactions, still 
 more cruel and oppressive, were begun ; and under the forms 
 of government and law, the most unprincipled men gave loose 
 to their avarice and rapacity, till Switzerland has sunk at 
 last under the complication of her misfortunes, reduced to 
 the lowest ebb of misery and despair. 
 
 It cannot be necessary, after this narrative, to make any 
 long or urgent appeals to your feelings ? If ever the mis- 
 fortunes of man were a care to you ; if ever you have sacri- 
 ficed any pleasure to lighten the heavy heart ; if a wretched 
 face and a waihng voice have ever pierced your soul, and 
 sunk your gayety to the dust, and filled your eyes with tears, 
 have mercy on these poor forsaken people. I do not ask of 
 you much, but give them a little ; they have no bread, no 
 shelter, no friends ; they feel they have no right to petition 
 you ; but they fling themselves down on their knees before 
 you, and beg you, through the Gospel of Jesus Christ, to 
 have pity on them, or they must die. If any one of you had 
 been wandering in their mountains, they would have entreated 
 you kindly and gently ; if you had been sick, they would 
 have watched your bed ; if you had been w^eary, they would 
 
214 FOR THE SWISS. 
 
 have sheltered you in their cabins : if you had been hungry, 
 their very children would have come to share their food with 
 you, and their little faces would have been clouded with 
 sorrow, till the countenance of the poor stranger within their 
 gates was turned to joy. Do not let these men perish ; but 
 though you have heard, in these latter days, many a tale of 
 misery, be not wearied with doing good ; but taught by that 
 power, which has ever pity on you, learn ye to have pity on 
 them. 
 
 The genuine soul of compassion is swift to figure, and to 
 conceive ; it glides into the body of the suffering wretch ; it 
 writhes with his agony ; it faints with his hunger ; it weeps 
 with his tears ; it bleeds with his blood ; till, bHnd with the 
 wise and heavenly delusion, it ministers to its own fancied 
 sorrows and labours for another self. Forget, then, for a mo- 
 ment that you are living in a free country, in affluent cir- 
 cumstances, and under respected laws ; put yourselves in the 
 situation of these poor peasants ; you would see your chil- 
 dren daily wasting before your eyes, for want of proper food; 
 you would be forced to bear their looks ; you would see the 
 little spot where all your affections centered the habitation of 
 your forefathers, the pride of your life, broken down to a 
 desolation and a desert ; you would sit down on the ruins ; 
 you would remember the happy days of your infancy that you 
 had passed there ; you would think your country was no 
 more, your kindred were dead in battle ; you would think of 
 all these things, and your heart Avould break. 
 
 My brethren, farewell. I have done. I have said every- 
 thing in my power for these unhappy people ; I have said it 
 with all my heart and soul, for I absolutely believe they are 
 dying from hunger. I humbly crave some little charity for 
 them ; I beg you as Christians, as good and kind men, to 
 turn your hearts towards their wretchedness ; I beg you, as 
 you hope for mercy from the good and gracious Jesus, as 
 you hope to spend your latter days in peace, as you wish 
 that your children in distant lands should return home to you 
 in good report, and bless your eyes once more before death. 
 If there be here a parent who feels the warning of age, and 
 hngers in heart round his dear family ; if there be a child that 
 knows how to cherish the declining age of its parent ; by all 
 these hopes, by all these feelings, by all these passions, I 
 solemnly entreat your mercy ; and may the God of Heaven, 
 and earth, and man, by teaching you to pity, give you the 
 right to implore. 
 
-«?:<..;- ."i*:*- "^ 
 
 SERMON XXX I. 
 
 ON TOLERATION. 
 
 For God is not the author of confusion, but of peace, in all the churches. — 
 1 Corinthians xiv. vekse 33. 
 
 As I intend to avail myself of this occasion to treat of that 
 spirit of religious intolerance which has recently* displayed 
 itself in this country, I am happy to ground my remarks upon 
 this simple and Christian precept, delivered in the writings 
 of St. Paul ; that the final end of all rehgious estahhshments is, 
 to disseminate peace and happiness among mankind ; that 
 nothing can be farther from, or more contrary to, the purposes 
 for which they were created, than to teach men to hate each 
 other on account of their religious opinions : " for God is not 
 the author of confusion, but of peace in all the churches." 
 
 It may seem needless to invite attention to a truth which 
 every man's understanding admits and every man's heart 
 adopts, as soon as it is stated. But common experience shows 
 us that the imderstanding and the heart are totally different 
 in a season of passion and a season of quiet ; that there are 
 periods when anger and error are epidemical; when the 
 wisest men forget the plainest rules ; when it is necessary to 
 call them back loudly and firmly to the first elements of 
 justice. 
 
 Because this agitation of the public mind has proceeded 
 from an apprehension for the safety of the Church Estabhsh- 
 ment, I shall endeavour to show what the fair limits of a 
 church establishment are; and then to lay down those prin- 
 ciples of toleration and liberahty by which its blessings may 
 
 * This sermon was written and printed in the spring of 1807 ; when a 
 clamour^ for political purposes, was raised against the Catholics. 
 
216 ON TOLERATION. 
 
 be most widely extended, its friends the most successfully- 
 increased, and its interests the most effectually protected. 
 
 The church must be distinguished from religion itself. We 
 might be Christians without any established church at all ; 
 as some countries of the world are at this day. A church 
 establishment is only an instrument for teaching rehgion ; but 
 an instrument of admirable contrivance and of vast utility. 
 
 * To constitute an established church there must be an 
 order of men set apart for the ministerial office ; a regular 
 provision made for them; and a particular creed containing the 
 articles of their faith. These are the three considerations 
 which seem to make up our idea of an estabhshed church. 
 
 First, if those who instructed the people in their rehgion, 
 were not a peculiar body of men set apart for that purpose, it 
 is clear that the Christian religion, the evidences of which 
 depend so much on history and on a knowledge of the dead 
 languages, would be very imperfectly taught. Society, too, 
 has a right to look to its clergy for the benefits of example as 
 well as precept ; which of course they could not do, if the 
 character of a rehgious teacher could be assumed or laid 
 aside at pleasure, and lasted only for the time requisite to 
 deliver the instruction. 
 
 Secondly. The support of the clergy ought not to be left 
 to the caprice and pleasure of individuals, but it should be 
 (as it is) compulsory upon all; because, upon any other sys- 
 tem they would either not be supported at all, or would be com- 
 pelled to gain their subsistence by following where they ought 
 to lead, and by flattering where it was their duty to instruct. 
 
 Lastly. If there were no articles of faith, to which it was 
 necessary to subscribe in order to become a member of the 
 established church, every species of contradiction would be 
 preached to the same congregation; one minister would defend 
 the doctrine of the Trinity and another would attack it. We 
 should hear at one time, that Christ was the Son of God ; and 
 at another, that he was merely a prophet. The church 
 would become as divided in its doctrines as Babel was in its 
 language ; and the minds of well-intentioned Christians, jaded 
 by controversy, would lapse into uniform indifference upon all 
 subjects of rehgion. 
 
 These, then, are the three main points upon which all 
 
 * This account of a church establishment is taken from Paley ; though 
 such truths are so obvious that a child might state them, if he had no in- 
 terest in perverting the truth. 
 
ON TOLERATION. 217 
 
 church establishments must rest ; and thus far such institu- 
 tions have reason on their side and powerfully promote the 
 best interests of mankind. In spite of all wild and visionary- 
 theories, it is right that the state should choose a particular 
 creed ; that they should set apart a particular order of men 
 to defend it ; and compel every individual to pay to its sup- 
 port. Homely and coarse as these principles may appear to 
 many speculative men, they are the only ones by which the 
 existence of any rehgion can be secured to the community ; 
 and we have now too much reason to beheve that the system 
 of greater latitude, attempted naturally enough in the new 
 world, will end fatally for the Christian religion, and for good 
 practical morality. 
 
 It may also happen that a particular sect, dissenting from 
 the doctrines of the church, is at the same time disloyally 
 inclined towards the state ; and then it seems expedient to 
 seize hold of their religious creed as a mark of their political 
 principles, and to exclude them from civil offices lest they 
 should use the power such offices confer to the injury of the 
 commonwealth. Exclusions of this kind exist in our own his- 
 tory ; and in their origin they were, perhaps, wise and neces- 
 sary. But it must be remembered they are not, nor were they 
 intended to be, any essential part of a church estabhshment ; 
 they are only laws which make use of a religious test, to 
 effect a particular purpose in government ; laws which do not 
 say that the man holding such rehgious opinions, must neces- 
 sarily be an enemy to the state at all times, but that he is so 
 at that particular time ; and that the civil exclusion must 
 remain as long as the political disaffection exists, and not a 
 moment beyond. 
 
 I beg, then, before I speak of the spirit which ought to ani- 
 mate the Established Church, to remind you that the only 
 essential and indispensable requisites for an establishment 
 are, a separate order of men as teachers ; a legal provision 
 not left to the option of the people ; and a clear exposition of 
 their religious belief to be subscribed by all its members. It 
 may be necessary, also, sometimes, for the state to make reli- 
 gious faith the test of political opinion, and, therefore, the 
 reason for civil incapacities: but all these regulations are 
 temporary, are by no means essential to the church establish- 
 ment, and ought to cease with the causes which give them 
 birth. 
 
 These are, as it seems to me and has seemed to wiser and 
 19 
 
218 ON TOLERATION. 
 
 better men than me, the principles on which an establishment 
 ought to be placed ; and upon this base there will be reared 
 a church, not of confusion but of peace. 
 
 I come now to that part of my discourse concerning the 
 spirit and principles by which the members of the Established 
 Church ought to be actuated, so as to promote the general 
 purposes of benevolence specified in the text. 
 
 In the first place, there is nothing less Christian than to 
 wish that the same penalties and deprivations of civil rights 
 should remain, as a sort of degrading badge, upon those who 
 differ from the Established Church. Whether the necessity 
 for their continuation still exists, is another question ; but if it 
 does, to continue them is a duty, not a pleasure ; it is not a 
 triumph to be sought, but a melancholy and an hateful task to 
 be performed ; for to a genuine Christian it is always an hateful 
 task to abridge the. natural rights of any human being, to re- 
 press his industry, to damp his honest ambition, and to make 
 him a stranger in the land of his birth. As I love to worship 
 God according to my own conceptions of real religion, I love 
 that every man should do the same ; as I wish that all the 
 honours and advantages of the realm were laid fairly open to 
 my competition, I most ardently wish (if the safety of the 
 state will admit of it), that they could be laid open to the com- 
 petition of every man, let his faith be what it may. I have 
 no more pleasure in depriving an human being of his civil 
 freedom, than in depriving him of the blessings of light an4 
 of air. It is not impossible but that the safety of the state may 
 require the continuation of such odious restrictions, but I 
 would exact the most convincing proofs that such necessity 
 did reaUy exist ; and I should look upon it as the most sacred 
 of all duties, and the most exalted of all pleasures, to mark 
 that moment when the public safety could be rendered com- 
 patible with complete freedom in religion. The spirit to be 
 blamed, is the indecent joy and exultation, that other men are 
 still continued in a state of bondage ; the love of being free, 
 the dread lest others should be as free ; the narrow and peril- 
 ous notion that every privation we can heap upon those who 
 do not subscribe to its doctrines, is so much of soHd gain for 
 the Established Church. 
 
 It is contended that to deprive a man of the opportunity 
 of attaining to certain honours in the state, is not persecution ^ 
 to torture and to destroy for religious opinions is wrong ; tQ 
 block up the road to political power for the same reason is not 
 wrong, and cannot be called by the name of persecution. 
 
ON TOLERATION. 219 
 
 The plain answer to which error is this : you have no right 
 to prohibit any pleasure, or to inflict any pain, without an 
 adequate reason ; you have no right to defeat an human being 
 in the meanest of all his wishes, unless you can show that an 
 adequate good is obtained to the community by so doing: 
 much more are you bound, in rendering a particular mode of 
 faith a cause of perpetual degradation, to show what those 
 reasons are, which justify you in such an inroad upon the 
 liberties of mankind ; if this cannot be done, such exclusions 
 are persecutions of the grossest nature ; and all honest and 
 enUghtened Christians are bound to strive for their extinction. 
 It seems to be a want of candour in our Establishment to 
 presume that time has produced no changes for the better in 
 the spirit of any other religion. Though we ourselves are 
 in great measure indebted to experience, and to the progress 
 of civilization for that moderation by which we are distin- 
 guished, we conceive that the great book of observation has 
 been shut to all other sects ; that age has rolled on after age, 
 without lightening their ancient darkness, or softening their 
 early zeal. Availing ourselves of all the knowledge, all the 
 tranquillity, and all the improvement we have gathered for 
 three centuries ; painting ourselves as the world is at this 
 present day ; we ask if the Catholic and the Calvinist of the 
 sixteenth century, with all the cruelty, madness and ignorance 
 of that period, are fit to be put upon a level with the enlight- 
 ened member of the Establishment, and to be restored to the 
 exercise of their natural rights ? We oppose a creature of 
 fact to a creature of history; and derive the advantage of our 
 comparisons from the unfairness of the period at which they 
 are made. The fact is, the written doctrine remains the same ; 
 the book is as it was before ; that no sect ever alters ; but with 
 the same words in his mouth, the man may possess a very 
 different heart ; and repeating phrases of persecution, may be 
 really actuated by the spirit of peace. We are therefore 
 bound in justice to consider, not what is said by other sects, 
 but what is done ; not to seize upon lifeless and antiquated 
 doctrines, which they have been too proud, too timid, and too 
 careless to expunge ; but to mark their religion both where it 
 is in subjection, and where it is in power, and to gather its 
 real character from its general spirit. This we expect that 
 other religions should do to us ; this other religions have a 
 right to expect we should do to them. 
 ^ It would tend to promote peace and prevent confusion (the 
 
220 ON TOLERATION. 
 
 great object of my text), if the Establishment had a just confi- 
 dence in its own strength, and a manly ease and security, the 
 consequence of that confidence. Does it behove so learned, 
 so opulent, so pious, so moral a body of men, to tremble for 
 this vast and venerable Establishment, as if it were a little 
 sickly heresy that had sprung up yesterday in the brain of 
 some distempered enthusiast? Do the names and the writ- 
 ings of the English clergy go for so little ? do time and habit 
 produce such trifling effects upon the minds of men ? is pro- 
 perty of such little avail ? have learning and argument such 
 shallow resources, that the Church cannot endure the slight- 
 est extension of freedom to those out of its own pale, though 
 it did exist a whole century before the freedom of these men 
 was in the sHghtest degree diminished? Those who have 
 lively and irritable feehngs for the safety of the Church must 
 admire that for which they fear so much ; their admiration 
 is wise and just, but how is it consistent with their belief in 
 its rapid frailty and decay ? The truth is, it is not frail and 
 not perishable. If " the gates of hell shall not prevail against 
 it," it will never be dashed to pieces against the rock of 
 justice. It is strong enough to sufter all men to be free, and 
 to disdain all other aid than that which it gains from teaching 
 and from acting well. 
 
 The last twenty years of an history have been honourably 
 distinguished by the innumerable laws of persecution they 
 have repealed, and the comparative freedom they have ex- 
 tended to every description of Christians. At every stage of 
 toleration, the destruction of the Established Church has been 
 foretold ; which never was more powerful or more justly re- 
 spected, than at this moment. Is there any human being 
 who wishes to put religious toleration on the same footing it 
 was at the beginning of this period, and to deprive us of all 
 the advantages of that liberal policy which has distinguished 
 the present reign ? The moment the restriction is thrown 
 down all men wonder that it was ever reared up,'tnat it was 
 continued so long, or deemed so important. When persecu- 
 tion is put an end to, it is represented as useless or cruel: 
 while it exists, it is praised as wise in its policy, and whole- 
 some in its consequences. 
 
 It is the duty of every member of the Establishment, before 
 he gives his assent to the continuation of such penal laws, to 
 take care that he is not led away by inflammatory names. 
 All names by which sectaries are denoted, are become terms 
 
<5N TOLERATION. 22 1 
 
 df passion and reproach ; and the very expressions of Papist, 
 Catholic and Presbyterian are, in the majority of instances, 
 sufficient to decide opinion. These bad and hurtful notions 
 are imbibed so early, and sink so deep, that the subject of 
 religious difference is that of all others where a man of prin- 
 ciple ought the most to suspect his own reason. The tenets 
 of the Catholic faith are, I mu^t say, in many instances, such 
 as common sense revolts at J but many of the greatest and 
 best men that ever lived have been Catholics ; the common 
 endearments of life go on with them as with us ; great and 
 civilized nations have, under the auspices of that rehgion. 
 Carried the arts of life to the highest pitch of refinement. 
 Blaming that religion cordially, dissenting from it totally, 
 wishing to inspire them with our better and purer knowledge 
 of the Gospel, it is impossible to cry down its followers as men 
 unworthy to be trusted by the state, and as unfit for all the 
 offices of civil fife ; it is impossible to pour forth one sweeping 
 clause of anathema and proscription against the greater half 
 of the civilized world, and to contend that we are the only in- 
 fallible judges of error and of truth. The Establishment is 
 not guarded by such practices as these ; but disgraced and 
 humbled in the estimation of those reflecting persons who 
 ought to be cultivated as its best and warmest friends. 
 
 I must add that nothing can be more injurious to the true 
 interests of the Church, than to mingle its name with the po- 
 litical factions of the day, and to lend its authority to any 
 purpose of individual ambition. If it is done by one party in 
 politics, it will soon be imitated by the other ; we shall then 
 become a mere tool, to answer the purposes of two opposite 
 factions; and the dearest interests of mankind will be sacri- 
 ficed to the vilest of all purposes. This is the true way first 
 to disgrace a church establishment; and then, (when it has 
 incurred universal contempt,) to destroy it. 
 
 Some feelings of generosity we might display towards 
 other sects, from the recollection that we are the strongest, 
 that we are endowed, that we are protected ; that we have 
 the favour of the great mass of the people, and the counte- 
 nance and support of the law. It would be charitable to re- 
 member, that these things must be galling to those who have 
 as firm a conviction in the truth and superiority of the creed 
 as we can possibly have of ours. The beautiful spirit, and 
 the true policy are, to allay the httle jealousy our advantages 
 must occasion, to soften these mortifying distinctions by every 
 
 19* 
 
222 ON TOLERATION. 
 
 amiable concession, and by every charitable judgment : not 
 to inflame a painful sense of inferiority into a furious hatred ; 
 not wantonly to insult other Christians, or needlessly to de- 
 press them ; but cheerfully and eagerly to impart to them 
 every advantage with which the security of the EstabHshment 
 can possibly be rendered compatible. 
 
 Piety and honesty are always venerable, with whatever 
 degree of error they happen to^e connected. Far from con- 
 sidering the sectarian clergy as objects of ridicule, contempt, 
 and persecution, it is impossible to witness their laborious 
 exertions for what they believe to be the truth, their poverty, 
 the insignificance and obscurity in which they pass their 
 lives, without experiencing for them very sincere sentiments 
 both of pity and respect. 
 
 It is now time, however, that I should close what I have to 
 say upon this very important subject. It cannot, I am sure, 
 be necessary to apologize for any sentiments calculated to 
 inspire mankind with the spirit of religious charity, and to 
 remind them, that the God of us all, is the God not " of 
 confusion, but of peace." If a religious establishment were 
 nothing but a barbarous and monastic institution ; if it were 
 merely an human institution ; it might be necessary to prop it 
 up with penal laws, narrow jealousies, and political factions. 
 Such unworthy arts might for a little time retard its deserved 
 fate ; but convinced as I am that in the uninterrupted order of 
 its prelates it is of apostoHcal origin, that in its human arrange- 
 ments and provisions it is founded upon the sohd basis of good 
 sense and public utihty, I am sure it wants no such aids as 
 these. The more liberal the spirit it displays when any great 
 question of human happiness is at stake ; the more noble that 
 disposition which it exhibits towards all other descriptions of 
 Christians ; the less it suffers itself to be contaminated by 
 faction, and be duped by party ; by all that it increases in learn- 
 ing, in piety, and in good conduct ; by all this will it concili- 
 ate universal affection, be raised in real dignity, and increase 
 in permanent strength. These are the real means of secu- 
 rity, and the only true art of continuing and protecting reli- 
 gion in the w^orld. One man dies, and another is born ; but 
 public opinion under God settles the fate of all human insti- 
 tutions; blaming and degrading the works of violence ; loving, 
 honouring, strengthening and sanctifying the deeds of justice, 
 the spirit of charity, and the establishments of peace. 
 
■^K^ 
 
 SERMON XXXII. 
 
 ON VANITY. 
 
 Behold all is vanity and vexation of spirit. — Ecclesiastes i. verse 14. 
 
 Those vices are not always the most dangerous which are 
 the most rapid of operation, but as effects strike the senses 
 most where they follow immediately from their causes, such 
 vices have been more accurately observed, and more clearly 
 explained, than any others. In the mean time, there are 
 many habits of thought httle noticed, and little feared, which 
 pollute no less effectually the springs of the heart, and destroy 
 the purity of religion. We shudder at falsehood, at ingrati- 
 tude, at neglect of serious duties, at hardness of heart ; we 
 look at vanity with a smile of contempt, at the vanity of 
 the young and gay, with a smile of indulgence ; it seems to 
 our improvident view an harmless plant, that has got up in 
 the luxuriant soil of youth, and will quickly wither away in 
 more mature age ; in the mean time, up it chmbs, and stran- 
 gles in its grasp the towering and lordly passions of the 
 soul. 
 
 I mean by vanity, the excessive love of praise, an^ I call it 
 excessive, whenever it becomes a motive to action ; for to make 
 men indifferent to the praise of their fellow-creatures, as a 
 consequence of their actions, is not, that I know of, anywhere 
 enjoined by our sacred religion, nor would it be wise if it 
 were possible. 
 
 The vanity of great men, when it stimulates them to ex- 
 ertions, useful to mankind, is that species of vanity, which 
 seems to approach the nearest to virtue, and which we most 
 readily pardon for its effects ; and, indeed, so much are we 
 inclined to view actions by their splendour, or their import- 
 ance, rather than by their motives, that we can hardly agree 
 
224 ON VANITY. 
 
 to call by the name of vain, a man who has exercised con- 
 summate and successful abihty upon great objects ; whereas, 
 there is a vanity of great, and a vanity of Httle minds, and 
 the same passion regulates a ceremony which saves or ruins 
 a kingdom. It is better, to be sure, that good (if it cannot 
 be done from the best), should be done from any motive, rather 
 than not be done at all ; but the dignity of the fact can never 
 communicate purity to the intention. True rehgion consists 
 not only in action, but in the mind with which we act ; and 
 the highest beneficence, which flows from vanity, though it 
 may exalt us in the eyes of men, abases us in the view of 
 God. 
 
 It is curious to observe this versatile passion of vanity, in 
 all the forms under which it loves to exist; every shape, 
 every colour, every attitude becomes it ahke ; sometimes it is 
 a virtue, and sometimes a decency, and sometimes a vice ; 
 it gives birth to the man of refined manners, the profligate, 
 the saint, and the hero ; it plays with the toy of the child ; it 
 totters on the crutch of age ; it lingers on the bed of sickness, 
 and gathers up its last strength to die with decent effect amidst 
 the plaudits of the world. The fall of great cities, the waste 
 of beautiful provinces, the captivity of nations, the groans 
 and bleedings of the earth. Whence have they sprung ? 
 that folly might worship, that fame might record, that the 
 world might look on, and wonder ; for these feelings men 
 have embittered life, accelerated death, and abjured eternity. 
 But with these vast scenes, I have nothing to do here ; to 
 common life, and ordinary occasions, I must at present con- 
 fine myself. 
 
 One of the great evils of vanity is, that it induces hardness 
 of heart. Compassion must have exercise, or it will cease to 
 exist ; th^ mind cannot be engrossed at once by two opposite 
 systems of hopes and fears. If we are occupied by the con- 
 sideration of what the world will think on every occasion, 
 there is no leisure for reflection on those solemn duties which 
 we owe to our fellow-creatures ; duties which God has not 
 trusted to reason only, but towards which he has warned us 
 by compassion and inward feeling. These feeHngs soon 
 cease to admonish, when they are unheeded, and the voice of 
 humanity, when it has often spoken in vain, speaks no more. 
 Soon the cry of him who wants bread will come up no longer 
 to your ear ; soon you will turn from the sad aspect of age, 
 
-I 
 
 ON VANITV. 225 
 
 and your heart will become shut to the miseries of man, never 
 again to be opened. 
 
 The havoc which vanity makes on the social feelings, is 
 as conspicuous as that which it exercises on those of compas- 
 sion. One of the most painful symptoms it produces, is an 
 impatience of home. The vain man has no new triumphs to 
 make over his family, or his kindred ; their society becomes 
 tedious, and insupportable to him ; he flies to every public 
 circle for rehef, where the hope of being admired lightens 
 up in him that gayety which never beams on those who 
 ought to be the nearest to his heart. Thus it is, that the 
 lives of many in great cities are passed in crowds, and frittered 
 away in a constant recurrence of the same frivolous amuse- 
 ments ; after the poignant gratifications of vanity, every other 
 species of sensation becomes insipid ; the mind shrinks from 
 duty, and from improvement, and the whole character becomes 
 trifling and degraded. It is easy to misrepresent these obser- 
 vations, by supposing them to be leveled against pleasure, 
 and amusement in general ; whereas, it is not only lawful to 
 enjoy the innocent pleasures of society in moderation ; but it 
 is unwise not to enjoy them. That pleasure only is to be 
 censured which becomes a business, and corrupts the heart 
 instead of exhilarating the spirits. Dignity of character is a 
 very subtle thing, and as the guardian of many virtues, 
 should be carefully preserved ; but if there be any fault 
 which extinguishes amiable and pious sentiment, hardens 
 the heart, destroys delicacy of manners, and wipes ofl* all 
 bloom and freshness from the mind, it is constant and eter- 
 nal dissipation. The very essence of pleasure is rarity ; 
 admiration too eagerly pursued, leads infallibly to contempt ; 
 and the qualities which produce the greatest effect, are al- 
 ways those of which the possessor is the most profoundly 
 ignorant. 
 
 It is so little the habit of mankind in general, to look to 
 the consequences of things, that vanity has been strangely 
 denominated an innocent foible ; and yet there is not a single 
 virtue which it does not degrade, nor a single vice to which 
 it does not lead. Look to the many families reduced to ruin 
 from ostentatious expense ; the profligate who is debauched, 
 that the world may applaud his spirit ; the Deist who laughs 
 and trembles ; the atheist who prays in secret ; the weak tribe 
 who follow fortune, and hate the unhappy ; age lingering in 
 the haunts of pleasure, and summoned from the feast to the 
 
326^ ON VANITY. 
 
 grave ; see ruined women, and mistaken sages ; beautiful 
 talents, heroic qualities, and princely virtues sunk down to 
 the dust, and the sad fall of men, whom nature sent forth to 
 rule, to enHghten, and to adorn the world. This is the evil 
 which the wise man saw, and said that the earth was filled 
 with it, that all things were vanity and vexation of spirit. 
 
 Vanity is not only a dangerous passion, but it is an absurd 
 passion ; as it does not in general attain the end it proposes 
 to itself. The way to gain wealth is to seek it. Learning 
 is only acquired by constant and eager labour ; but to gain 
 praise, you must be indifferent in it ; for the rule of commen- 
 dation is, and ought to be, the very reverse of the rule of 
 charity; to give most to those who want it least, and thus by 
 ill success to teach a better motive to action. Vanity is every 
 day detected and disgraced ; we know men who believe them- 
 selves to be objects of universal admiration, while in fact they 
 are objects of universal contempt ; we see how difficult it is 
 to conceal the passion, or prevent the ridicule consequent upon 
 it; yet we are vain, and believe that acute malice will be 
 blind for us alone. 
 
 A vain man looks more to the pleasure than the means of 
 triumph, and experiences defeat, because he sings the song of 
 victory while he should be spreading his ranks for the battle. 
 If he succeed, he loses even the inaccurate measure of himself 
 which he before possessed, attempts greater, and still greater 
 achievements, and is sure at last to fail, because it is the 
 easiest of all things to find difficulties superior to human 
 powers. 
 
 It must be from the most lamentable want of self-exami- 
 nation, that this vice is ever found in the Christian mind. 
 Christianity consists not only in what we do, and in what 
 we avoid, but in the sentiments we encourage, and the habits 
 of thinking we gradually acquire. A vain Christian may 
 have faith, and he may have conformity ; he may worship 
 and believe, but where is his humble soul, his mild and 
 steady wisdom, and his awful sense of the ever-during pre- 
 sence of God ? These are the sweet virtues on which this 
 worm of vanity pastures, and these the miserable relics of 
 Christianity which it leaves behind. 
 
 A very vain person is very seldom a very happy person ; 
 he lives under no certain law ; the rule of his conduct is the 
 caprice of those with whom he lives ; he never knows to-day, 
 what he is to do to-morrow, and is constantly acting a part 
 
ON VANITY, 227 
 
 before an audience who become difficult to please, in pro- 
 portion as he is desirous to please them ; he lives in constant 
 perturbation, and is ever flushed with triumph or pale with 
 despair ; he is a slave in essence who feels that he has not 
 dignity to be free, and erects every man he meets into a master 
 and a lord. 
 
 A religious man enjoys the supreme comfort of living under 
 general rules ; he is ever dignified, because ever consistent ; 
 he avoids the misery of doubt, and follows a clear line of con- 
 duct through all times, and seasons, and events. While the 
 world are in good humour with him, he enjoys their praise 
 as an accidental good, though he never seeks it as an ultimate 
 object ; if the rectitude of his motives be not understood, he 
 wraps himself in his virtue, and gazes from the temple of 
 conscience at the storm which ravages beneath ; the will of 
 God is the guide of his life, and he moves through this earth 
 with fear and fortune beneath his feet, and with Heaven open 
 to his view. 
 
 This love of praise, so strongly infixed in our nature, it is 
 rather our duty to direct than to extinguish. The excellence, 
 which requires neither to be encouraged nor corrected, exists 
 not in the world ; the commendation or censure of enlight- 
 ened men, is, perhaps, the best test here below of the purity 
 and wisdom of what we intend, and the propriety and success 
 of what we do ; and a wise man will always make this use 
 of the decisions of the world ; when he is blamed, he will lis- 
 ten with sacred modesty to the collected wisdom of many 
 men, he will measure back his footsteps on the path of fife, 
 and whichever way he decides, he will know that he has 
 either obtained success or deserved it ; he will receive praise 
 as a probable, not as a certain evidence that he is right ; nay, 
 he will do more, he will rejoice in the approbation of his fel- 
 low-creatures ; every feehng of his heart will expand ; it will 
 cheer him in his long struggle, and dissipate that melancholy 
 which the best sometimes feel at the triumph of folly, and the 
 fortune of vice. 
 
 I have thus endeavoured to convince you of the danger of 
 this widely difiused and little-suspected passion of vanity, 
 and I have attempted also to show you that it injures the 
 understanding, that it injures the heart, that it injures the 
 Christian character, that it defeats its own end, and, while it 
 sues for admiration, often insures contempt. Be it your care 
 to watch its baneful influence, and to live from nobler motives. 
 
228 ON VANITY. 
 
 If you wish for the praise of man, cease to pursue it ; live 
 that life which, sooner or later, leads to honour in this world, 
 and to eternity in the next ; he just, be modest, he charitable ; 
 love dearly your fellow-creatures, and number your days by 
 the miseries you have lessened, and the blessings you have 
 diffused. Study your own heart with the patience of a Chris- 
 tian ; coolly mark, and steadily resist the tendency to wrong. 
 Let wisdom ever increase with decay, and the soul gather 
 new light as its covering crumbles into dust ; this is the life 
 which will more effectually secure to you the sweets of praise 
 than all the toils and all the vexations of vanity ; you will 
 reign in the hearts of men, and move amongst them hke the 
 angel of wisdom and peace ; and when, in the fullness of 
 years, and in the fullness of honours, you rest for the short 
 sabbath of the tomb, the cold, dull earth which falls upon 
 your bier, shall be a cruel sound to the wretched and the 
 good ; a whole city shall gather round your grave, and weep 
 over their guide, their father, and their friend. 
 
 
 
 tS^l^ri^, 
 
SERMON XXXIII. 
 ON SUICIDE. 
 
 Saul took a sword, and fell upon it. — 1st Book of Samuel xxxi. verse 4. 
 
 It is not easy to conceive a more melancholy picture of 
 suicide and despair than that which is exhibited in the latter 
 end of Satil ; " and the battle went sore against Saul, and the 
 archers hit him, and he was sore wounded by the archers : 
 Then said Saul unto his armour bearer, draw thy sword, and 
 thrust me through therewith ; but his armour bearer would 
 not, therefore Saul took a sword, and fell upon it." In this 
 way did Saul shrink from adversity ; he went forth glorying 
 in his majesty, the anointed of the Lord, king over the cho- 
 sen people of God ; the battle turns against him ; he is sore 
 wounded of the archers, and, forgetful of that all-seeing eye, 
 which looks down upon the smitten and afflicted man, he 
 rushes upon voluntary destruction, and seeks in death a cure 
 for the anguish of wounds and the shame of defeat. 
 
 This crime of self-murder, thus strikingly exemplified in 
 the death of Saul, is one said to prevail in this country to a 
 greater extent than in any other part of the European world; 
 whether this notion be true, or exaggerated, the crime exists 
 in a degree sufficient to produce misery and horror to many 
 individuals ; and to exhibit to the world at large, flagrant ex- 
 amples of disobedience to the will of Providence ; it therefore 
 exists in a degree to justify any Christian minister, in com- 
 menting upon it, whose object is to promote the happiness of 
 his fellow-creatures, and to enforce and explain the commands 
 of that heavenly Master, whose servant he is. 
 
 As to the utility of such discussion if principles are good 
 and sound, if remonstrance is founded upon pure feelings of 
 rehgion, men sometimes employ it to prevent the excesses of 
 30 
 
230 ON SUICIDE. 
 
 passion, and sometimes they remember it in the midst of 
 passion ; and, if a sense of duty can restrain avarice, lust, 
 anger, and revenge, why may it not calm the madness of 
 despair, and induce him to carry on the load of life who pants 
 and wearies for the grave ; at all events, it is the duty of a 
 minister to diffuse good principles without doubting but that 
 it will produce good consequences ; to scatter the seed, whe- 
 ther it fall among tares, or upon rocks, or whether it please 
 God to give it fertihty and increase. 
 
 If we consider that by morality is meant that conduct which 
 promotes the general happiness, the notion that self-murder 
 is lawful, must be highly immoral, from the direct tendency 
 which it has to destroy human happiness by increasing vice. 
 The object of religious instruction always has been to awaken 
 the attention of mankind to those future pleasures even in 
 this life, which proceed from the exertions of righteousness ; 
 and to those future pains which await the gratifications of 
 sin ; its object has been not to debar men from pleasure, but 
 to make them acute and long-sighted about pleasure ; to 
 weaken the power of the present moment, and to give to 
 futurity that just influence which it ought to have upon our 
 determinations. Now the firm belief that we have no lawful 
 control over our own Hves, that it is our indispensable duty, 
 under every circumstance of good or evil fortune, to live on to 
 the last, comes directly in aid of these views. If we conceive 
 that (under the will of God), we must live to the common period 
 of human life, it is probable we shall make some provision for 
 future health of body and peace of mind ; the necessity of 
 living increases the chances of living well ; to him who has 
 threescore and ten years to remain upon the earth, it is worth 
 the pains to cultivate mankind, to love virtue, to maintain 
 justice and truth : it is worth the pains even to act greatly 
 and splendidly; it gives new interest to the game of life to 
 contend for honourable fame, and to be a guide and a bene- 
 factor to mankind. But what has he to fear or hope from 
 man, whose own hand is the messenger of God, and can tear 
 him from life more surely than pestilence or pain ? Why 
 should he quit any vice which gives him momentary pleasure? 
 Eat and drink, for to-morrow you die, said the Apostle ; but 
 these are narrow limits for him who is the lord of his own 
 life. — Ruin, injure and deceive, for to-morrow you die; crowd 
 infamy upon infamy; add horror to horror ; and when a 
 ruined body and a restless mind tell you that to-morrow is 
 
ON SUICIDE .^ 231 
 
 come, your remedy is nigh at hand, you may curse God and 
 die. 
 
 Our Creator, it is said, has given us a general desire to 
 obtain good and avoid evil ; why may we not obey this im- 
 pulse ? We leave a kingdom or a society, of which we do 
 not approve ; we avoid bodily pain by all the means which 
 we can invent ; why may we not cease to live when life be- 
 comes a greater evil than a good ? Because in avoiding pain 
 or in procuring pleasure, we are always to consider the good 
 of others, as well as our own. Poverty is an evil, but we may 
 not rob to avoid it ; power is a good, but it is not justifiable 
 to obtain it by violence or deceit; we have only a right to 
 consult our own good within certain boundaries, and after 
 such a manner that we do not diminish the good of others : 
 Every evil incapable of such limited remedy, it is our duty to 
 bear ; and if the general idea, that we have a right to procure 
 voluntary death to ourselves, be pregnant with infinite mis- 
 chief to the interests of religion and morality, it is our duty to 
 hve, as much as it is our duty to do anything else for the same 
 reason ; a single instance of suicide may be of little conse- 
 quence ; nor is a single instance of robbery of much ; but we 
 judge of single actions, by the probability there is of their 
 becoming frequent, and by the eifects they produce when 
 they are frequent. 
 
 Suicide is as unfavourable to human talents and resources 
 as it is to human virtues ; we should never have dreamt of 
 the latent power and energy of our nature, but for the strug- 
 gle of great minds with great afflictions, nor known the limits 
 of ourselves, nor man's dominion over fortune. What would 
 the world now have been, if it had always been said, because 
 the archers smite me sore and the battle goeth against me, I 
 will die? Alas ! man has gained all his joy by his pains ; 
 misery, hunger, and nakedness have been his teachers, and 
 goaded him on to the glories of civilized life ; take from him 
 his unyielding spirit, and if he had lived at all, he would 
 have hved the most suffering creature of the forest. 
 
 Suicide has been called magnanimity; but what is mag- 
 nanimity? A patient endurance of evil to effect a proposed 
 good ; and when considering the strange mutability of human 
 affairs, are we to consider this endurance as useless or when 
 should hope terminate but with life ? To linger out year 
 after year, unbroken in spirit, unchanged in purpose, is doubt- 
 less a less imposing destiny than public and pompous suicide; 
 
232 ON SUICIDE. 
 
 but if to "be, is more commendable than to seem to be ; if we 
 love the virtue better than the name, then is it true magna- 
 nimity to extract wisdom from misery and doctrine from 
 shame ; to call day and night upon God ; to keep the mind's 
 eye sternly riveted on its object through failure and through 
 suffering ; through evil report and through good report ; and 
 to make the bed of death the only grave of human hope ; but 
 at the moment when Christianity warns you that your pre- 
 sent adversity may be a trial from God ; when experience 
 teaches that great qualities come in arduous situations ; when 
 piety stimulates you to show the hidden vigour, the inex- 
 haustible resources, the beautiful capacities of that soul which 
 God has exempted from the destruction which surrounds it ; 
 at that moment the law of self-murder gives you for your 
 resource, ignominious death, frightful disobedience, and never- 
 ending torments. 
 
 It may be imagined that suicide is a crime of rare occur- 
 rence, but we must not so much overrate our love of hfe, 
 when there is hardly a passion so weak which cannot at 
 times overcome it ; many fling away life from ambition, many 
 from vanity, many from restlessness, many from fear, many 
 from almost every motive ; nature has made death terrible, 
 but nature has made those evils terrible, from the dread of 
 which we seek death ; nature has made resentment terrible, 
 infamy terrible, want terrible, hunger terrible ; every first 
 principle of our nature alternately conquers and is conquered; 
 the passion that is a despot in one mind, is a slave in the 
 other ; we know nothing of their relative force. 
 
 It is hardly possible to conceive this crime, committed by 
 any one who has not confounded his common notions of right 
 and wrong by some previous sophistry, and cheated himself 
 into a temporary skepticism ; but who would trust to the rea- 
 soning of such a moment, in such a state of the passions, 
 when the probability of error is so great, and the punishment 
 so immeasurable ? Men should determine even upon import- 
 ant human actions with coolness and unimpeded thought ; 
 much less then is a rash and disturbed hour enough for eter- 
 nity. Whoever thought of agitating such a question without 
 feeling an intolerable weight of sin upon his soul? Whoever 
 voluntarily quitted the world, at peace with himself and with 
 mankind ? All is passion when all ought to be trembling 
 deliberation ; when you are abandoned by the grace of God, 
 when you are compassed round about with the awful ven- 
 
ON SUICIDE. S33 
 
 geance of man, when there is no good action on which your 
 soul can lean and rest, when you are become a desolation and 
 a great ruin, that is the very moment you choose to rush into 
 eternity before the God of purity and power. 
 
 All these reasonings are of universal application ; but there 
 are still stronger reasons for him who has bound himself 
 to the world by the strong ties of husband, friend or parent. 
 Suppose that Christianity does not forbid the crime, (which 
 it does virtually in every page ;) suppose it did not violate in 
 other cases the intentions of Providence by breaking the 
 course of nature, still how can there exist the right to inflict 
 such intolerable wretchedness upon those who remain behind, 
 to bequeath to them an horror which no future happiness can 
 ever calm, to make weak, timid, affectionate minds remember 
 that it was no irresistible disease which did this, that it was 
 not by old age they lost their protector, that they never took 
 the last leave of you ; but that in an hour of madness you 
 quitted them suddenly and cruelly, and that in a world to 
 come they can hope to see you no more. 
 
 It is painful to a man to look upon a family that he has 
 ruined, and to mix with children and kindred whom he has 
 disgraced; but you owe it to them to keep your pride low; 
 you owe to them the slow and dismal task of repentance; it 
 is your duty to bear the compunction of shame, and the lashes 
 of remorse; to feel degraded ; to live and to get better. Those, 
 too, whose reproaches you most fear, are ready to bear ruin 
 and disgrace with you ; they will dry up your tears and give 
 you dignity and peace of heart ; but the way which a self- 
 murderer reasons is : " Because I have reduced those whom I 
 love to ruin and disgrace, I will drive them to despair; I have 
 abstained from no pleasures for the sake of others, and I will 
 bear no pain for them; I will perpetuate, by the ignominy of 
 my death, all that wretchedness which I have caused by the 
 crimes of my life." 
 
 It has often been asked, if self-murder is forbidden by the 
 Christian religion ; but those who ask this question forget 
 that Christianity is not a code of laws, but a set of principles 
 from which particular laws must frequently be inferred; it is 
 not sufficient to say, there is no precise and positive law, 
 naming and forbidding self-murder ; there is no law of the 
 Gospel which forbids the subject to destroy his ruler ; but 
 there is a law which says, fear and obey him ; therp is no 
 
 20* 
 
5J34 ON SUICIDE. 
 
 law which prevents me from slaying my parents ; but there 
 is a law which says, love and honour them ; " be meek," says 
 our Saviour; "be long-suffering; abide patiently to the last; 
 submit to the chastening hand of God," and let us never for- 
 get, that the fifth and greatest gospel is the life of Christ ; that 
 he acted for us, as well as taught ; that in the deserts of Judea, 
 in the hall of Pilate, on the supreme cross, his patience shows 
 us that evil is to be endured, and his piety and his prayers 
 point out to us how alone it can be mitigated. 
 
 It is the misfortune of those who plead for morality and re- 
 ligion, that they can seldom intimidate but with distant evil, 
 and allure but with distant good ; nevertheless, by the grace 
 of God, many a warning precept, little noticed perhaps at the 
 time it is heard, lays hid in the soul, to start forth when the 
 snares of death encompass us round about, and the pains of 
 hell get hold upon us. I am well convinced that there is not 
 one individual in this solemn assembly, who has the most 
 remote conception that he can ever be guilty of the crime of 
 which I have been speaking ; there are some, perhaps who 
 may consider the very mention of it as useless or injudicious. 
 So thought the once happy and prosperous men, who, in our 
 days, have perished by their own hand ; the wealthy, the 
 noble and the good who have shocked and astonished man- 
 kind by this act of despair. No man ought to say that his 
 virtues are less corruptible, his fortunes more lasting, and his 
 fate more fixed than theirs ; all these said that years of glory 
 and peace were before them ; that they should live happily ; 
 that they should go down in quiet to the grave. Alas ! the 
 day may come, when the noblest, when the happiest, when 
 the best man here present, who now wonders that such a 
 crime should exist among mankind, shall stand trembhng in 
 the twihght of life and death, shall say to the sun, " I shall 
 see thee no more; and to the face of nature, farewell." No 
 man ought to suppose that he can begin the swift career of 
 unrighteousness, and stop short of the last abyss. No gambler, 
 no adulterer, no restless voluptuary, no man who drains life 
 of the last dregs of pleasure, can ever say that his own exist- 
 ence is secure from the fierceness of his passions ; it is a 
 lowered and a chastened heart, which makes a man respect 
 and guard his own life ; a belief that whether he is a beggar 
 or a prince, whether he is tried by the good, or tried by the 
 evil of fife, it is his duty to remain till the great judge bids 
 
ON SUICIDE. 235 
 
 him depart. That he owes it to the will of the Supreme 
 Being, to the Christian law, to worldly endearments, to general 
 utility, to individual magnanimity, to hrave every vicissitude 
 of fortune, while he extracts from those vicissitudes of every 
 nature, and in every degree, fresh sources of solid improve- 
 ment, and new occasions for pious and resigned obedience to 
 the will of God. 
 
w 
 
 SERMON XXXIV. 
 ON REVENGE; 
 
 And Esau ran to meet him, and embraced him, and fell upon his neck, 
 and kissed him : and they wept. — Genesis xxxiii. verse 4. 
 
 The injury Esau received from his brother, his anger, and 
 the flight of Jacob consequent upon it, form the first part of 
 that beautiful story of Scripture, of which my text is the 
 very interesting conclusion. 
 
 After an absence of many years, Jacob, who had fled in 
 poverty, and at an early period of life, from his native coun- 
 try, returns the father of many children, and the lord of much 
 pastoral wealth ; returns, however, suffering the strongest 
 apprehensions from the deserved resentment of his brother 
 Esau, and willing to allay that resentment, by a very consi- 
 derable sacrifice of his possessions. " And Jacob commanded 
 his servants saying, thus shall ye speak unto my lord Esau, 
 thy servant Jacob sayeth thus : I have sojourned with Laban, 
 and stayed there until now ; and I have oxen, and asses, and 
 men servants, and maid servants ; and I have sent to tell my 
 lord, that I may find grace in thy sight." After some in 
 terval, the history brings the two brothers within sight of 
 each other. " And Jacob lifted up his eyes, and looked, and 
 behold Esau came, and with him four hundred men ; and he 
 passed over before them, and bowed to the ground seven 
 times until he came near to his brother." Here then was the 
 moment for which so many human beings pray ; the foot of 
 Esau was upon the neck of his enemy, and there lay stretched 
 out before him that treacherous brother whom in bitterness 
 he had often cursed, and in imagination had often slain. But 
 in all his anger, he had never thought that Jacob would kiss 
 his feet for mercy, and weep on the ground before him ; for 
 
ON REVENGE. 237 
 
 this Esau was not prepared, but ran to meet Jacob, and em- 
 braced him, and fell on his neck and kissed him, and they 
 wept. So wept the much injured Joseph over his cruel bro- 
 thers ; so weep good men over their repentant enemies in all 
 ages, and in all climates ; Hstening to the God within them, 
 and acting, for a moment, like the creatures of a purer world 
 than this. 
 
 I shall take occasion, from the introduction of this beautiful 
 story of Esau, to treat of the forgiveness of injuries ; pointing 
 out as well as I am able, the most common obstacles, and the 
 most powerful motives to the acquisition of this first of the 
 Christian faith. 
 
 It may be said, consistently with the strictest truth, that 
 revenge is not the characteristic fault of this country. Chris- 
 tianity has so far interwoven its precepts in our habits and 
 manners, that we have commonly the fairest disposition to 
 forgive. The unchristian spirit of remembering, and resent- 
 ing injury, has no excuse in the spirit of the nation or the 
 age ; — it derives no colour from reflection, no malignity from 
 example ; it is original, native, individual badness. 
 
 The most obvious motive to forgive, is the pleasure of for- 
 giving, and the pain of resenting. It is not meant by this, 
 that there is no pain which accompanies the pleasure of for- 
 giveness ; or no pleasure mingled with the pain of resentment ; 
 but the pain of forgiving is of short duration; the pleasure 
 ever recurring ; causing a man to love and respect himself; 
 breathing a satisfaction over the whole of life ; remembered 
 the hour before dissolution, offered up to God as an atonement 
 for sin; — thought of in sickness, in pain, and in all the mise- 
 ries of the flesh, when power is forgotten and glory despised. 
 
 In the same way there is some sort of pleasure in resent- 
 ment ; when tears and wounds break out afresh, at the sight 
 of some accursed oppressor, it is hard to raise this man from 
 the ground, and to give to him the words of comfort, and the 
 kiss of peace. But remember the laws by which our nature 
 is controlled ; when we have shed the blood of him who was 
 our enemy, when we have broken down his stateliness, and 
 made him a taunt and a reproach, we shall be turned to 
 mercy, and our tears will fall down over his wretchedness ; 
 our anger will come back no more, and we shall mourn over 
 the desolation of our hands. When we have humbled all 
 that we have wished to humble, and destroyed all that we 
 lusted to destroy,— when we cease to be supported by strong 
 
238 ON REVENGE. 
 
 passions, — when we cannot retract or repair, we shall begiii 
 to repent. 
 
 Again, common observation upon human character shows 
 us, that great schemes of resentment always give way ; no 
 man can hate for a whole life ; the passion which seemed 
 immortal, is at length swept off by the current of impressions, 
 and at the close of life, when little time remains for affection^ 
 the feelings of nature return ; year after year has passed away 
 in silent gloom, and indignation ; every emotion of affection 
 stifled; every office of kindness lost ; all the sweet consolations 
 of existence lavished away ; and then, when the grave ad- 
 monishes enemies to forgive, they mourn over the kindness 
 they have lost, to renew it for a moment, and lose it again 
 for ever. Therefore, as the apostle says, repent, for the king- 
 dom of heaven is at hand; we may say forgive, for the king- 
 dom of heaven is at hand. Forgive while forgiveness is 
 worth having; forgive, while there remains enough of life for 
 the renewal of kindness ; forgive while you have something 
 else to bestow on repentance than lingering looks and falter- 
 ing words. 
 
 And what does this solemn Christian injunction of forgiv- 
 ing do, but eradicate from the mind the most painful and 
 most unquiet of all passions ? What wretchedness to cla- 
 mour out for ever, " I will pursue, I will overtake ; my right 
 hand shall dash in pieces mine enemy;" to sacrifice all the 
 quiet happiness of life, to sicken on the bosom of joy ; still 
 after the lapse of years to feel, to see, and to suffer with the 
 freshness of yesterday ; and in the midst of blessings to ex- 
 claim, all this availeth me nothing, while Mordecai, the Jew, 
 sitteth at the king's gate. 
 
 Are we sure, too, that the cause of our resentment is just ? 
 have we collected the most ample evidence ? have we ex- 
 amined it with the closest attention ? have we subjected it to 
 impartial revision ? have we suspected our passions ? have 
 we questioned our self-love ? When we make such terrible 
 resolutions of eternal hatred ; when we disobey the great rule 
 of the Gospel ; when we proclaim ourselves as punishers and 
 avengers ; it at least behoves us to know, that we have seen 
 facts as they really are, and reasoned rightly upon them. 
 But the truth is, no man ought to be bold enough to expose 
 his eternal salvation to such peril ; no man ought to say I am 
 so sure of my own passions, that I will risk my peace upon 
 them in this world, and my safety in the next ; I see every 
 
ON REVENGE. 239 
 
 day, that the hatred of others is unjust ; I am sure mine is 
 just ; I am surrounded by pride, by error, and by infirmity; 
 I only am candid, temperate and good. What, if the revolu- 
 tions of time, mellowing and changing the passions of man, 
 as it changes the outward face of nature, convince us, that 
 our hatred and persecution have been unjust ? the years of 
 our delusion have past quickly on ; death has snatched from 
 us the object of our hatred, and all the reparation is impossi- 
 ble ; God says, pardon real injuries, forgive true sufferings ; 
 what mercy then will he have for the anger which oppresses 
 innocence, or can we believe that he will pardon our tres- 
 passes, if we are implacable even against them who have not 
 trespassed against us ? for it is worthy of observation, that 
 while other duties are only made the object of precepts, this 
 duty of forgiveness of injuries, is the very condition upon 
 which we are permitted to prefer any petition to the throne 
 of mercy ; it is not said simply thou shalt forgive him that 
 trespasseth against thee ; but we are made to say, forgive us 
 our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us ; a 
 form of words which cuts off the resentful man from the most 
 distant hope of divine favour ; and, in truth, it is monstrous 
 to die with a load of passion, folly and vice, without an atom 
 of mercy for the passions, the follies, and the vices of others ; 
 to implore, and^ to threaten in one breath ; to place the Re- 
 deemer Jesus between you and Omnipotence, you who have 
 never forgiven, or redeemed, or saved, or wept, or hstened, or 
 lifted up the bruised contrite spirit ; you shall ask in vain on 
 that day, when vengeance is near at hand ; when every rock 
 and hill are molten with heat ; when the bow of God is bent; 
 when the thunder and all the war of heaven are rolHng above 
 your head. 
 
 Men are so far, generally, from being ashamed of not for- 
 giving injuries, that they often glory in revenge ; they believe 
 it to be united with courage, and with watchful dignified 
 pride ; the attribute of a nature not to be approached without 
 difficulty, much less to be insulted with impunity, boundless 
 in gratitude and resentment, full of every wild untaught 
 virtue, and every magnanimous, popular vice, a nature firm 
 above others in what it purposes, and vivid above others in 
 what it feels. Yet, after all, what talents, or what virtue, 
 can an unforgiving disposition possibly imply ? Who is 
 most likely longest to retain the sense of injured dignity ? 
 He who has given no pledge to his fellow-creatures that he 
 
240 ON REVENGE. 
 
 is good and amiable ? who does not feel that he is invul- 
 nerable ? who is least fortified by a long tenour of just inten- 
 tions, and wise actions ? What man, who had ever trodden 
 one step in the paths of rehgion, would vex the sunshine of 
 his existence with all the inquietudes of resentment ? would 
 ingraft upon his life the labour of hating, and hover, year 
 after year, over expiring injuries ? Who is there, that bears 
 about him an heart of flesh, that would put away a brother, 
 or a friend who knelt to him for mercy ? If there be virtue 
 and merit in such feelings as these, let us, at least, draw our 
 virtues from a source where the worst and vilest of mankind 
 cannot dip with us ; if such be the creed of the world, this is 
 the creed of the Gospel. " If there be any who have' taken 
 my I'ox, or my ass, and I have not forgiven him ; if the shadow 
 be long, and the sun be going down, and I am stirred up 
 against any one of my brethren ; if there be any man in the 
 whole earth, the latchet of whose shoe, the hair of whose 
 head I would injure ; if that man come to me, and hold out 
 his hand, and say, it repenteth me sore, that I have sinned 
 against thee ; if I turn that man away in the bitterness of his 
 heart, if I run not forward to meet him, may God turn away 
 from me in the bitterness of my heart, and while mine enemy 
 rests in the bosom of Abraham, may there be no drop of water 
 for my thirst." 
 
 Other men who have no desire to be thought magnanimous 
 because they revenge, are still apprehensive of being consi- 
 dered as timid if they forgive and resent, to maintain a cha- 
 racter for spirit ; but it is certainly extremely possible to 
 combine temperate resistance to present injustice, with a 
 tendency to forgive what is past ; to be firm in the maintain- 
 ance of just rights, while we abstain from any greater injury 
 to our enemies than is necessary to maintain them, and hold 
 ourselves ready for forgiveness, when they are maintained. 
 If, indeed, power and esteem are the principal objects of 
 human attention, the highest power over the minds of men, 
 and their most perfect esteem, are oftentimes obtained by a 
 forgiving, rather than a resenting disposition; an enemy, won 
 over by kindness, is always the most durable friend ; there is 
 nothing excites greater gratitude than forbearance, where 
 resentment would have been justifiable; nothing which secures 
 so forcibly our admiration, as to perceive that any man is so 
 much the master of his own nature ; like the apostles in the 
 ship, when we see him rising up, and rebuking the winds, 
 
ON REVENGE. 241 
 
 and waves of the mind, we are beyond measure amazed, and 
 ask what manner of man may this be who can command his 
 own soul, and whom the passions and angers obey. We must, 
 therefore, distinctly remember, that it is very frequently pos- 
 sible to effect by forgiveness every object which we propose 
 to effect by resentment ; it is possible, by forgiving, to open the 
 mind of an enemy to a sense of his injustice, to excite his 
 admiration, to concihate his affection, and to turn his heart ; 
 it is possible to do everything with forgiveness, that can be 
 done with resentment, except to give pain, — there is, indeed, 
 even a pain to be inflicted by forgiveness, but a pain which 
 is at once the symptom and the guardian of Christian virtue; 
 compunction for having offended against a generous and 
 forgiving man. This pain you may inflict if you will ; he who- 
 inflicts it must be the disciple of Christ, and he who feels it 
 is not far from being so. 
 
 I have a great deal more to say upon this subject, more 
 than it will be possible to say in my present discourse, and 
 it will be necessary to resume it on some future occasion ; to 
 say too much upon it, will not be easy for a minister of the 
 Gospel. In every occasion of his hfe, our blessed Saviour 
 preached forgiveness ; to Sadducee, and to Pharisee ; to Gen- 
 tile, and to Jew ; to poor and to rich ; mercy to others, if you 
 wish for mercy, was his doctrine ; God forgiveth the forgiver; 
 he that smiteth, shall be smitten ; so Jesus taught, and dying, 
 as he lived, prayed for his murderers, looking up to heaven 
 and saying, God forgive them, they know not what they do. 
 
 21 
 
:;c^^i^^:4<^ X 
 
 SERMON XXXV. 
 
 ON THE TREATMENT OF SERVANTS 
 
 Masters, give unto your servants that which is just, and equal, knowing 
 that ye also have a Master in Heaven. — Colossians iv. verse 1. 
 
 Upon first turning our mind to consider those causes which 
 preserve any society in a state of order and regularity, we 
 are apt to attribute this effect to the laws alone, and to believe 
 that it is principally the fear of punishment, which inculcates 
 one line of conduct, and discourages another ; whereas the 
 fact is, if the welfare of mankind depended alone upon the 
 struggle of two hostile principles, the passion which urged 
 to the commission of the crime on the one hand, and the law 
 that prohibited it on the other, there had been an end long 
 since of human association and refinement ; and man, after 
 such a vain experiment to better his condition and improve 
 his nature, had returned to his ancient woods, with a fierce- 
 ness confirmed by experiment, and a barbarity resumed upon 
 system. 
 
 If the law has not powerful assistance and co-operation, it 
 can never cope with human depravity. Accordingly, besides 
 the great and cardinal support of religion, we see education 
 and opinion disciplining the mind of man to a state of whole- 
 some obedience, and preparing him for those wise restraints 
 upon which the very existence of society depends. To these 
 auxiliaries of the law may be added another very important 
 one ; I mean family government, the most simple, the most 
 natural, and the most ancient of all governments. How very 
 much virtue and religion must be promoted by the due exer- 
 cise of this authority in all its branches, is too plain to be 
 proved ; the best administered governments must mistake 
 much and overlook much ; it is of course impossible that theyi 
 
OK THE TREATMENT OF SERVANTS. 243' 
 
 can descend to inspect the lives and conducts of individuals, 
 and to regulate, with minute and laborious justice, the propor- 
 tion of merit and reward. Now, the chiefs of a family have 
 an intimate knowledge of every individual in it, a lively inte- 
 rest in their rectitude of conduct, and an influence over them 
 to which nobody else can pretend. 
 
 It is not my intention to treat of every branch of family 
 government, but simply of that to which my text relates, the 
 connection between master and servant. The subject is an 
 humble one, and little susceptible of ornament : but it is of 
 daily occurrence ; and, as a considerable share of our comfort 
 depends upon it, it certainly makes up in utihty what it loses 
 in dignity. It is a very easy thing to say of a rehgion, that 
 it has a tendency to assuage human passions, and soften hu- 
 man manners ; we must justify our praise by exemplifying 
 it, and, coming home to the business of men, show in moral 
 detail what Christianity exacts from the husband, the father, 
 the master, and the son ; and thus make eulogium rational 
 by giving a clear view of the specific excellencies on which 
 it is founded. 
 
 To a Christian, besides, the duties he owes to any class of 
 his fellow-creatures, however Ioav they may be placed beneath 
 him in wealth and rank, can never be but a serious and 
 solemn concern; for he bears within him a levehng faith 
 which beats down the pride of man to the dust, which tells 
 him that the poorest creature in his own shape has a soul 
 which came from God and before God will stand in judgment 
 at that day when the first shall be last, and the last be first, 
 and all flesh be changed. 
 
 It may be necessary to observe, that I mean simply to con- 
 sider the connection between master and servant, on one side 
 only ; not the duty which a servant owes to his master, but 
 that which a master owes to his servant ; considering this as 
 the only part of the subject which can be particularly apph- 
 cable and interesting to my present congregation ; nor shall 
 I go on touching methodically upon every common duty, but 
 shall content myself with mentioning only the most common 
 faults which we are apt to commit in fulfilling this relation of 
 life. I hope you will not think the subject I have chosen 
 too low or too particular for discussion in this place ; let us 
 never forget that the real test of Christian merit is action, 
 and that if we are not Christians in the daily and common 
 transactions of our life, the ardour of devotion, and sincerity 
 
244 ON THE TREATMENT OF SERVANTS. 
 
 of our belief by evincing that we know the rule which we 
 neglect, and the lawgiver whom we disobey, are proofs of 
 our guilt and not of our virtue. I the more insist on this, 
 because it is the easiest and most common of all things to 
 deceive ourselves, and to substitute, instead of the toil of 
 moral emendation, an overheated fancy, and an undoubting 
 faith, and then to believe that we are doing our duty to God 
 and man. 
 
 I may very fairly begin with laying it down as a rule that 
 we owe to those placed under us, gentle language, and a kind, 
 and benevolent deportment. We are all of us enough dis- 
 posed to allow, and to make eulogiums upon Christianity, as 
 a beneficent system of morals. In this commendation, the 
 skeptic has shown an equal alacrity with the Christian ; but 
 do we imagine that our Saviour, in the zeal with which he 
 everywhere promotes the happiness of mankind, while he 
 endeavours to throw open every compassionate heart as an 
 asylum for the afflicted, and to make the good an altar for 
 the miserable ; do we imagine that while he remembers the 
 bodily wants, he forgets the moral feehngs of man ? that he 
 has not restrained the sallies of passion, as much as he has 
 quickened the emotions of pity ? The same merciful Christ, 
 who says, give of your abundance to those who have little, 
 who bids you comfort the man who is unhappy, forbids you 
 to add woe to woe, to build sorrow upon servitude, and to 
 break down the heart of your bondsman, who has no help but 
 from you, with scornful looks and galling words. 
 
 Man seizes greedily upon every little source of distinction, 
 which falls within his reach ; his perpetual effort is, to scrape 
 together every consideration which can exalt him in his own 
 mind above his fellow-creatures ; and the unwatched tendency 
 of all his thoughts is constantly to exaggerate the importance 
 of his own claims and pretensions, and to diminish those of 
 others. We are compelled to respect, in a considerable degree, 
 the rights of our equals ; but those of our inferiors, in this 
 instance of language and manner, we sometimes cruelly 
 neglect ; and the man Avho is trembhngly ahve to the preser- 
 vation of his most minute privileges, who is ready in con- 
 formity with the notions of the times, to expose his life upon 
 the least affront, or the least shadow of an affront, will tram- 
 ple without a moment of human reflection, upon the honest 
 feehngs of a fellow-creature who, though he never enjoyed 
 the goods of fortune, partakes of the common sentiments of 
 
,0N THE TREATMENT OF SERVANTS. 245 
 
 our nature, and, in proportion as his lot of life is less envia- 
 ble, merits from every good man a treatment more kind. 
 
 Do not let us fall into the hard-hearted mistake, that be- 
 cause men are born in a low station of life, and humbly edu- 
 cated, they have not a considerable and a powerful share 
 of feelings. We think that humble men are to be moved 
 only by a sense of gain, and that all usage is nearly indifferent 
 to them, if their meat and drink, and clothing be the same ; 
 but there are many of them who would go from good fare to 
 kind words, who would be content with a less pittance from 
 the hand of a gentle and just man, and think with the pro- 
 verb that it were better to dine off herbs, where love was, 
 than to have a stalled ox, and hatred therewith. And have 
 we never heard of servants, whom no reverse of their master's 
 fortune had ever tempted to desert him? who have sacrificed 
 the long-cherished hope of liberty, and competency in their 
 old age, to follow a disgraced, an exiled, a needy man in all 
 his miseries ? who have given their body for his shield, and 
 their hands for his support ? and all this without the most dis- 
 tant hope of reward ? And why ? — not because he has fed 
 and clothed them, (for the labourer is worthy of his hire, and 
 recompense is rather justice than benevolence,) but because 
 they have never been debased in their own eyes by scornful 
 language ; have never been goaded by unworthy treatment ; 
 because they have met with men who have not thought the 
 feelings of their poor dependents too insignificant a subject 
 for consideration and self-restraint ; because they have been 
 thought of, esteemed, and valued.' * These are the most ac- 
 ceptable gifts which one human being can bestow upon ano- 
 ther, and when they come from him whom fortune and con- 
 dition surround with dignity, to him who has nothing to com- 
 mand the respect of the world, from the master to the servant, 
 they win the human heart, and form an attachment as indis- 
 soluble, perhaps, as subsists in the world. 
 
 Distinction of ranks there must be in every society, and it 
 is most devoutly to be wished, that the good sense and firm- 
 ness of this country may ever preserve them ; but it is the 
 peculiar province of religious instruction, to teach that consi- 
 derate mildness which softens down the line of demarkation 
 between the orders of mankind, which allays the natupal dis- 
 content of inferiority by amiable concession, and renders the 
 obedience of the lower classes certain and solid, by rendering: 
 
 •IT ^ ^ 
 
 It wilung. 
 
 21* 
 
346 ON THE TREATMENT OF SERVANTS. 
 
 There is one very striking advantage in this amiable be- 
 haviour to our domestics for those who are engaged in the 
 truly noble occupation of gradually correcting and improving 
 their characters ; it affords a constant exercise for the virtues 
 of justice and moderation, and it is in the bosom of their 
 famihes, and in the midst of those who are the daily witnesses 
 of their actions, that men ought to render virtue habitual to 
 themselves ; but instead of rendering their home a school of 
 probation and exercise, they too often look upon it £is a place 
 of rest from every noble effort, as a retreat, where they are 
 -exempted from the painful restraints of moderation, justice, 
 and complacency. Hence it is that in these little subdivisions 
 of society, in families, where the world is fenced off, where 
 one roof shelters those whom nature intended to be so dear to 
 each other, the nearest kindred are so often the constant source 
 of each other's misery and inquietude ; and hence it is that 
 when we meet together in the world, we do not bring into 
 each other's society virtues, but the symbols of virtues ; we are 
 not moderate, or just, or benevolent, but we counterfeit these 
 virtues for the time being; and the actions of men are not 
 here any proofs of amiable quahties, but of adroit and syste- 
 matic imposture. 
 
 This unchristianlike conduct to servants does not always 
 proceed from a bad heart ; many are guilty of it who have 
 much of compassion and goodness in their nature ; but it 
 seems to proceed from a notion early imbibed, never effectu- 
 ally checked, and aided by our natural indolence and pride, 
 that a sense of those injuries which are conveyed by manner 
 and expression, is almost exclusively confined to those whose 
 minds are refined by education, or whose condition is enno- 
 bled by birth ; but in spite of all the ills which poverty can 
 inflict, no human being is base or abject in his own eyes. 
 Without wealth, or beauty, or learning, or fame, nay, without 
 one soul in all the earth that harbours a thought of him, with- 
 out a place where to lay his head, loathsome from disease, 
 and shunned by men, the poorest outcast has still something for 
 which he cherishes and fosters himself; he has still some one 
 pride in reserve, and you may still make his tears more bitter, 
 and his heart more heavy ; do not then take away from men 
 who ^ve you their labour for their bread, those feelings of 
 self-cohiplacency which are dear to all conditions, but doubly 
 dear to this; do not take away that from thy poor brother, 
 which cheers him in his toil, which gives him a light heart, 
 
ON THE TREATMENT OF SERVANTS. ^S^ 
 
 and wipes the sweat from his brow ; and be thou good and 
 kind to him, and speak gentle words to him, for the strength 
 of his youth is thine, and remember there is above a God, 
 whom thou canst not ask to pardon thy folHes, and thy crimes, 
 if thou forgivest not also the trespasses which are done against 
 thee. 
 
 There is. another point in which the masters of famihes do 
 not fulfil this relation in a very exemplary manner, and that 
 is, in attention to the moral discipline of their servants. The 
 truth is, that if masters are well served, they busy themselves 
 very little farther with anything else, and suffer many faults 
 to pass unnoticed, which do not interfere with their own in- 
 dividual comfort; but is this the duty of a good member of 
 the community, or of a good Christian ? The master of a 
 family has an opportunity of informing himself of the charac- 
 ter of every individual in it more minutely than any other 
 person can do ; he derives a most important weight from his 
 situation, and a little temperate, judicious and dignified advice 
 from him, will reclaim many a thoughtless young person from 
 destruction, much more effectually than any public and 
 general instruction can be supposed to do. It is not easy to 
 conceive anything more respectable, more useful, and more 
 rehgious, than the conduct of a master of a family, who would 
 condescend in this manner, to take into his hands the moral 
 guidance of his servants, and to use his influence over them, 
 and to make them wiser and better men. That these exer- 
 i tions would afford to anybody a most ample and abundant 
 i return, there can be little reason to doubt. Such a man would 
 feel, in the first place, that most pure and perfect of all plea- 
 sures, the pleasure of doing good ; he would be conscious that 
 he had laid up against the hour of death and the day of afflic- 
 tion a store of complacent reflection, and many remembrances 
 of a well-spent life ; his too would be the singular fortune of 
 uniting his duty with his immediate interest ; for will any 
 human being be long faithful to his worldly master, who has 
 few and imperfect notions of any other? or can there be a 
 greater security for faithful and ready obedience, than a mind 
 solemnly impressed with notions of wrong and right, and 
 roused to a love of virtue and a dread of vice ? 
 
 There is not, perhaps, a more pleasant spectacle than a well- 
 ordered family, where the good sense and benevolence of 
 the superiors diffuse comfort and content to the meanest in- 
 dividual of which it is composed ; where the kindness of the 
 
348 ON THE TREATMENT OF SERVANTS. 
 
 master is reflected back in the alacrity of the servant ; where 
 command is dictated by reason, and obedience comes from the 
 heart. There is here no contest whether one shall evade or 
 the other exact the most ; but generosity on the one side has 
 begotten fidelity on the other, and two diflferent orders of men 
 are bound together in the common bonds of interest and af- 
 fection. This house is the tabernacle of peace ; here it is that 
 virtue and religion love to dwell; and if the great God ever 
 give us in this melancholy vale to taste one drop of heavenly 
 comfort, in such a calm, wise and religious state that blessing 
 is surely conferred ; good, and surrounded by the good, 
 making use of the superior situation to which fortune has 
 exalted you, to influence your inferiors in the cause of virtue, 
 suffering no bad, no indifferent character near you, but by the 
 incessant efforts of benevolence and example, transmuting and 
 subliming every heart into moral and Christian excellence ; 
 this it is to imitate our great Creator, who for ages has seen 
 the nations of the earth gliding away under his throne, and 
 the people mad with folly and crime; yet he has looked on, 
 and spared us ; we are not swallowed up ; he is a merciful, and 
 a good God, and he still shows us the light of his counte- 
 nance, and he opens his hand, and fills all things living Avith 
 plenteousness. Do thou, therefore, unto thy servants that 
 which is just and equal, knowing that thou hast such a 
 master in heaven. 
 
-^Wr; 
 
 SERMON XXXVI. 
 
 ON MEN OF THE WORLD, 
 
 Be not conformed to this world. — Romams Xii. verse 2. 
 
 I SHALL dedicate niy sermon of this day to the examination of 
 a very common and a very complex character in society; that 
 1 mean of men of the world : a description of persons so far 
 from having obeyed the injunction of the apostle, that they 
 have received an appellation directly significant of their dis- 
 obedience to it. 
 
 When vice stands by itself, we descry an enemy, and pre- 
 pare for attack or defence ; but vice, in union with agreeable 
 qualities and accomplishments, presents an insidious combina- 
 tion, which requires the close attention of the religious in- 
 structor, because it veils the danger which it augments. 
 
 Strange havoc is made in our opinions by words; appella- 
 tions frequently convey censure, or praise, which the ideas 
 they signify certainly would not do; and definition seems as 
 necessary in morals, as it is for any object of science. It is 
 enough for the purposes of shame or honour, to get hold of 
 certain phrases or terms ; what is the real import of these 
 words, and what good and evil they really convey, few people 
 give themselves the trouble to consider ; hence, if a loose ex- 
 pression be set up, significant of some popular qualities, the 
 adjacent vices will soon connect [themselves with these wel- 
 come guests, and bidding, under cover of their name, defiance 
 to the indolent search made for them, they will share in 
 common the indulgence and approbation of the world. 
 
 The appellation of a man of the world, can in strictness 
 mean nothing more than a person who, by long mingling with 
 his fellow-creatures, has acquired a knowledge of human 
 nature, together with those habits and manners which pre- 
 
250 ON MEN OF THE WORLD. 
 
 vail in that cast of society which gives the law to the rest.^ 
 Good manners and skill in character contribute so much to the 
 general happiness, that this appellation of man of the world, 
 would very justly confer popularity, if it were found to mean 
 nothing more. It is not a knowledge of the world, properly 
 so called, that can ever be the subject of condemnation in this 
 place ; to be ignorant of men can never be the way to live 
 well amongst them ; but those vices which have been fraudu- 
 lently interwoven with this pleasant and important knowledge, 
 should be torn off'; we should toss out the asp which hes hid- 
 den in the fruit ; death is a hard price for dehght. 
 
 In the first place, the appellation of a man of the world, 
 has become a protection for irreligion. 
 
 When I proceed to estimate the religion of a man of the 
 world, no one will imagine me about to draw a very savage 
 picture of severity and gloom; some httle relaxation of self-denial 
 will be anticipated, and some little deviation from unerring recti- 
 tude. It will be no story of the cowl, and the cloister, of the 
 burning lamp, and the midnight prayer, of the altar ever 
 charged with oblation, and the hymn ever sounding with 
 praise : I do not mean to be unjust in the delineation of cha- 
 racter ; injustice of this kind is impolitic and immoral ; but I 
 am not afraid of being severe, while I confine myself to truth; 
 we are placed here to remind, to warn, to detect, to caution, 
 to entreat, to blame, and to praise ; and that man is a traitor 
 to the most sacred trust, who thunders grief and terror against 
 awkward vice, and holds parley with pleasing error and popu- 
 lar sin. 
 
 A man of the world is rarely or ever seen in any place of 
 public worship ; a spirited and witty contempt for religion is 
 the most gaudy, indispensable feather in his whole plume. If 
 he happen not yet to have shaken off his rehgion internally, 
 which in the beginning of his career may perhaps be the 
 case, he must indulge only in furtive supplication, and retire 
 to his own chamber, not to avoid the ostentation, but the im- 
 putation of piety. As a man of the world becomes older and 
 more a man of the world, he may perhaps become a confor- 
 mist, and comply with the outward ceremonies of religion, 
 still taking care it is privately understood he is there to humour 
 the world ; that his contempt for these things is in no ways 
 diminished ; that he still thinks rehgion the business of wo- 
 men, children, and priests. His object is to impress man- 
 kind with a notion of his versatihty ; he insinuates that he 
 
ON MEN OF THE WORLD. 251 
 
 v'would fall in with the reigning worship wherever he might 
 V*be placed, and change his adoration with his climate ; and 
 '-'you cannot more effectually pique or punish his vanity, than 
 by mistaking him for a devout man seriously impressed with 
 the truths of rehgion. This singular and impious affectation 
 proceeds from a^ desire of appearing to have escaped from 
 those unsocial and unpleasant quaHties with which rehgion 
 is in our imagination so fatally connected ; an association 
 strengthened by that period of our history when irreligion 
 was unfortunately the only test of genuine loyalty and elegant 
 extraction. But this union between disaffection and devotion 
 is now not only dissolved, but reversed, and religion is clearly 
 no longer the parent of barbarous and austere manners. As 
 far as it affects manners at all, it teaches the reality of every 
 amiable quaHty, of which knowledge of the world teaches us 
 to counterfeit the appearance, and changes a system of con- 
 ventional fraud and sanctioned falsehood into a solid commerce 
 of benevolence and mutual indulgence. 
 
 A man of the world, though he have no learned disbelief 
 of sacred things, but rather an habitual carelessness concern- 
 ing them, is still the author of much serious mischief to the 
 cause of religion ; he is always hovering upon the borders of 
 consecrated ground, and watching his opportunity to make 
 light and successful incursions upon it ; and when the out- 
 works of religion are attacked by a popular character, with 
 humour and pleasantry, we are defrauded into a smile, or dare 
 not stop the acclamations of contagious mirth with the warn- 
 ings of deliberate and principled austerity ; in the mean time, 
 the reverential awe in which education has enshrined every 
 holy thought, and every holy name, is gradually dissipated ; 
 and the best pledge of all that is valuable in character or ad- 
 , mirable in action, trucked away with the ignorance of children 
 for the graceful facihties and trifles of shameless, senseless, 
 silly men. 
 > The morality of a man of the world amounts to little more 
 than prudence, and does not always come up to that : he is 
 V. ''aware of the allowance that is made for him, and sins up to 
 - the full extent of his measure ; he must be always ready to 
 sacrifice his own life or to take that of another; in gaming, 
 he must observe the strictest faith, and, in general, must ab- 
 stain from all vices that are neither elegant nor interesting. 
 With these hmits he is let loose upon pubhc happiness, to 
 plunder and debauch, without penalty or shame. Take, for 
 
252 ON MEN OF THE WORLD. 
 
 instance, the happiness of a private family, as it depends upon 
 the unsullied dignity and spotless life of its females ; is there 
 one of those whom we call men of the world, whom anything 
 but fear would prevent from poisoning the heart, and laying 
 waste the principles and virtues of women ? Is there one 
 who has rehgious magnanimity enough to scare this hcen- 
 tious cruelty from his soul? Is there one who would not 
 blush to be suspected of such a virtue ? And how often 
 would the indulgence of the vice meet its punishment in the 
 anger and the execrations of the world ! 
 
 But though it be admitted that these, and many other bad 
 vices, too often mark the character of a man of the world, 
 " still," it will be urged, " he has his peculiar excellencies, 
 as well as defects, and the former of these justify, in some 
 measure, the admiration he receives, and give such a man a 
 title to our love, if not to our esteem ; one of these palliating 
 virtues is certainly generosity." If a man of the world be 
 generous, it must at least be allowed he is more frequently so 
 with other people's property than with his own. The great 
 check upon generosity, is the necessity of employing wealth 
 for the ordinary wants of life; but he who lives in the world 
 on free quarter, and defrauds a thousand honest men of their 
 due, may toss away his bounty with a profusion, admirable 
 enough to the multitude, but which, in fact, is the profligacy 
 of a robber, not the generosity of a magnanimous man. 
 
 In all matters of compact or agreement, it is the invariable 
 maxim of men of the world to take every advantage, which 
 the ignorance of the contracting party, or the ambiguity of 
 law, will permit ; and this not more from avarice than from 
 vanity, because, above all things, mankind must be impressed 
 with a notion of this dexterity; and if he give way to a sense 
 of generosity or justice, it will be presumed he has not seen 
 the advantage he has relinquished. 
 
 Another source of distinction, to which this class of per- 
 sons lays claim, is, an exemption from prejudices ; a claim of 
 such high importance, that I am afraid no class of men, and 
 very few individuals of any class, are entitled to make it. A 
 long commerce with the world, though it frequently extin- 
 guishes principle, seems only to commute prejudices. In 
 the world, the prop of friendship is httle wanted ; the ties of 
 blood forgotten, the ardour of youthful benevolence blunted ; 
 whatever amuses, is virtue ; whatever tires, vice ; a callous 
 contempt for mankind dispensing with all active benevolence, 
 
ON MEN OF THE WORLD. 253 
 
 is riveted on the mind for ever ; this is frequent enough in 
 the world ; but for prejudice, men reason as badly, and retain 
 their opinions as obstinately in crowds, as in solitude ; if a 
 secluded man wants experience to correct his reflection, an 
 active man wants reflection to infer justly from his experience; 
 if the one be too little interested to observe minutely, the other 
 is too much interested to observe candidly ; so that there is 
 nothing in the life of a man of the world, that should impart 
 to his mind a greater degree of liberality, though his licen- 
 tiousness, and indifference to all opinion, may frequently lead 
 us to suppose so. 
 
 Nothing excites the ridicule of a man of the world more 
 powerfully than any hypothesis concerning public virtue, or 
 supposition that the mass of mankind are not a fair object of 
 plunder and deception ; you can hardly present to him a 
 better opportunity for sarcasm, or a more decided evidence of 
 your own pedantry and ignorance of mankind ; to him, office 
 and legislation are as much objects of sale, as the drugs or 
 the spices of the merchant ; he is ever ready to truck the 
 public happiness for what it will fetch ; and when he speaks 
 of the importance of his trust, you may be sure he means to 
 enhance the price of his treason. It is vain to talk of in- 
 novations, and to call out for a multiplication of checks in 
 government ; the root of the evil is the laxity of all public 
 principle. From this school of the world, swarms of disciples 
 will ever be ready to put to sale the wisest institutions, the 
 ablest laws, and the most sacred trusts. Such are the idols 
 of our admiration ! Such the models to which the eyes of 
 the young are directed, such the men before whom virtue is 
 abashed, and wisdom still ; who make us all blush for our 
 rustic integrity, and plebeian faith. 
 
 It commonly happens, that a man of the world adds to his 
 other bad qualities, those deep-seated and fatal vices which 
 proceed from the love of gaming : — His taste for lawful and 
 simple pleasure has long since given way to the emotions of 
 passion ; there exists in him a necessity for perturbation ; he 
 must ever be flushed with avarice, shaken with rage, or racked 
 with despair ; he must descend, in one short hour, from wealth 
 to poverty, from raptures to curses ; any tempest, any storm, 
 to escape from the dull tranquillity of virtue, and the inflexible 
 demands of duty. 
 
 The progress of opinions is curious and instructive. Vir- 
 33 
 
*^'d4 on men of the world. 
 
 tiie is so delightful, Avhenever it is perceived, that men have 
 found it their interest to cultivate manners, which are, in fact, 
 the appearances of certain virtues ; and now we are come to 
 Jove the sign better than the thing signified, and indubitably 
 to prefer (though we never own it) manners without virtue, 
 to virtue without manners. 
 
 Men who have only this merit of exterior to plead, would 
 be ranked with some greater regard to justice, if their judges 
 were more governed by the suggestions of conscience and 
 reflection, than by the tyranny of fashion. The universal 
 object seems to be, not to do w^hat we think right, but to do 
 what is done, to avoid singularity ; self-approbation, the vice- 
 gerent of God, and legitimate monarch of our actions, is de- 
 posed. We voluntarily submit to the government of the 
 multitude, obey the mandate we disapprove, and employ all 
 the force of ridicule to make other people as slavishly irra- 
 tional as ourselves. Without a certain disregard to the 
 opinions of the world, or rather that mass of people engaged 
 in dissipation, who call themselves the world, there can be 
 neither wisdom of conduct, nor happiness the result of it. 
 Singularity as a motive to action, has justly experienced all 
 the ridicule it has received ; singularity, as a necessary con- 
 sequence of our obedience to the dictates of propriety and good 
 sense, it is the duty of every man to incur, and if he cannot 
 despise the ridicule consequent upon it, at least to bear it. 
 Give this self-called world its full dominion over trifles, up to 
 the very confines of morality, and religion, but not a step be- 
 yond ; here make your stand, or be for ever lost. There is a 
 latent sense of their own unworthiness in every multitude, in 
 none more than in that called the world; they are ever ready 
 to flee from the erect aspect of wisdom and of courage ; they 
 will begin with scoffing at your independence, and end Avith 
 respecting it. Join with that world in the admiration of 
 polish, refinement and urbanity ; dehght in that graceful 
 mutability of soul, which takes its tone and tenour from every 
 external object; in that subdued energy, which always charms, 
 and never exceeds ; in that learned exercise of talent which 
 gives pleasure without exciting envy; in that pleasant despot- 
 ism of courtesy, which makes every man a willing slave. 
 But let not that sacred vigilance slumber, which watches over 
 evil and good ; the fairest of all things are religion, and virtue, 
 for the want of which, all the accomphshments of the outward 
 
ON MEN OF THE WORLD. 255 
 
 man are wretched atonements ; nothing can compensate fox 
 their absence ; no price, however splendid and imposing, can 
 purchase that, which is above all human value, calculation 
 and esteem. 
 
 The conviction which these plain and obvious remarks 
 may carry with them, will be eluded by that common style 
 of reasoning which gives vigour and duration to every pos- 
 sible fault. " A single example can do nothing ; the world 
 will still go on as it has always done ; bad men will still find 
 protecting names, and imposing pretences; the individual 
 who withstands it, will become ridiculous, the fault remain as 
 popular as ever." The misfortune is, that this objection is 
 made with bad faith, and can as well be answered by those 
 who make, as by those who state it. No individual is called 
 upon to bear the whole burthen of reform ; but the reform is 
 to be effected by the sum of individual exertions ; of course, 
 morality must always be stationary or retrograde, if we all 
 resolve to contribute nothing towards the general improvement, 
 because none of us can contribute much. 
 
 Those who have not strength of character to deviate mate- 
 rially from the customs of the world, in this patronage of 
 folly and estimation of vice, need not go all lengths ; some 
 scanty limits and some feeble shame they may still preserve, 
 and watch over the crumbling barriers of virtue, which totter 
 on their base. 
 
 Nobody of course can mean to say, that a fellow-creature 
 ought to be the object of aversion, because he has mingled 
 with great numbers, and great varieties of his species ; a 
 thousand virtues may result from the school of the world 
 which a speculative life can with difficulty infuse. An hu- 
 man being who has ever cultivated his understanding, and 
 preserved an unspotted integrity amidst all the business o£ 
 life, exhibits the finest model of character which this world 
 can produce ; short of this, there are many who have had 
 the good sense, or the good fortune, to conduct themselves 
 with a decent propriety, which, in the spirit of Christian 
 indulgence, may entitle them to the favour they experience ; 
 bat when the term of a man of the world becomes the 
 pass-word to all society ; when the character is the admira- 
 tion of one sex, and the model for imitation in the other ; 
 when irreligious men, dishonest men, gamesters, seducers, 
 adulterers, ungrateful sons, unjust husbands, neglectful pa- 
 
356 ON MEN ^F THE WORLD. 
 
 rents, shameless, infamoiis women ; when every polished 
 assassin, and every accomplished impostor, find shelter and 
 forgiveness for their crimes in this attribute of knowledge of 
 the world, it becomes the imperious duty of every reflecting 
 man to sift well this fatal, shuffling world, to be careful, as far 
 as his own efforts and example extend, to make infamy and 
 Regleet the punishment of vice, and not to sanction with his 
 name and society, an infamous, immoral character, though 
 birth, wit, fortune and manners» aU conspire to make it the 
 idol of the worlds 
 
SERMON XXXVII. 
 
 ON THE FOLLY OF BEING ASHAMED 
 OF RELIGION. 
 
 Whosoever, therefore, shall confess me before men, him will I confess 
 also before my Father, which is in Heaven ; but whosoever shall deny 
 me before men, him will I also deny before my Father, which is in Hea- 
 ven. — Matthew x. verse 32, 33. 
 
 There is no word which issues more frequently from the 
 mouths of those who have no great fondness for rehgion, and 
 the rehgious, than that of hypocrisy ; indeed, it is with them 
 so very common a word, that it may be questioned, if they 
 have any other by which to denote rehgion itself. Whoever 
 talks of religion is an hypocrite ; whoever frequents rehgious 
 worship is an hypocrite ; whoever is alarmed for, or defends 
 the interests of religion, is an hypocrite. Hypocrisy is the 
 term,. by which bad men endeavour to designate and to dis- 
 grace religion. 
 
 However just such imputation may have been in ages past, 
 it is not now worth while to determine ; rehgion might then 
 have been held in greater honour among men, than unfortu- 
 nately it is at present ; and, as the reality was more precious, 
 the counterfeit might have been more common ; but applied 
 to the times in which we live, hypocrisy is so far from being 
 a frequent vice, that we much more frequently see men 
 ashamed of the religion they do possess, than pretenders to 
 any degree of it which they have never attained ; the hypoc- 
 risy of impiety is a common vice, the hypocrisy of religion 
 is not ; it is most true that many men fear God, who would 
 not have the world believe that they fear him ; if the Gospel 
 has its open enemies, it has too its timid friends, and it is not 
 every one who would be pleased to confess to the world, the 
 
 2^* 
 
258 ON THE FOLLY OF BEING ASHAMED OF RELIGION. 
 
 vivacity of that hope, and the extent of that consolation which 
 he derives from the rehgion of Christ. 
 
 To some this may seem a good sign ; it may be urged that 
 men are, therefore, better than at the first sight they appear 
 to be ; that there is more of real religion in the world, than 
 the despondency of the pious and the good allows them to 
 suppose ; but this is a most mistaken view, for why is Christ 
 denied before men, if that denial does not carry with it a cer- 
 tain appearance of bravery to the unthinking multitude ? why 
 are men ashamed of rehgion, if the name oif religion does not 
 convey with it some feeling of weakness and inferiority ? 
 why are the most beautiful, and the most solemn feelings of 
 the heart suppressed if there is not a lurking, half-formed 
 impiety in that mass of human beings, who are formed only 
 by circumstances, and who take their morals and their religion 
 from the temper of the times in which they live. 
 
 This shame of appearing too rehgious, proceeds principally 
 from the fear of ridicule, of which ridicule unfortunately all 
 things are susceptible, exactly in proportion to their dignity 
 and grandeur. But young pei-sons should leam at their first 
 entrance into life, the secret of converting this ridicule into 
 respect; the fool who laughs at you for your pious deport- 
 ment, will redouble his contempt when he perceives that he 
 is successful ; take care that your piety is genuine, that it is 
 neither fanatical nor superstitious ; and when you have seen 
 that it is good, persevere in it calmly and immovably ; con- 
 fess Christ before the world, not with the ostentation of a 
 Pharisee ; but with the firmness of a man ; God, who seeth in 
 secret, will reward you openly; and the very wretch who 
 mocked you, will be the first to honour your courage and to 
 respect your zeal. It is the greatest of all mistakes to yield 
 one step of your life to the clamours of impiety ; the enemies 
 of rehgion are aware of the powerful weapon they wield, but 
 they are also aware that they are injuring man and offending 
 God ; oppose them without insolence and without fear, and 
 when you have repelled their aggression, you will, if that be 
 any object, secure their respect. 
 
 But it may be asked, why we are bound to profess rehgion 
 openly among men ? Of what importance are those opinions 
 which the world may form of our religion, if we really beheve 
 what religion teaches, and practice what it enjoins ? But the 
 fact is, we are not only bound to be religious, but to be reli- 
 gious in such a manner that we make others so ; we are bound 
 
ON THE TOLLY Of BEING ASHAMED OF RELIGION. 259 
 
 to make the faith appear honourable among men ; to give the 
 timid courage to profess it ; to let those who fluctuate and 
 doubt, perceive that firmness of character which is derived 
 from genuine piety; to teach those who would scoff' us out of 
 our religion, that we are walking above the world, that their 
 scorn cannot reach us, but that if it did, we should be proud 
 to bear every persecution malignity could inflict, to show our 
 humble gratitude for all the religious blessings we enjoy. 
 
 But, perhaps I have gone too far in animadverting on this 
 sinful shame of rehgion, before I have pointed out the most 
 flagrant instances in which we are guilty of it. If, in such 
 ■enumeration, I should mention any example, an individual 
 instance of which may appear to be of little moment, remem- 
 ber what such instances would amount to, if they were com- 
 mon, and what a total corruption would ensue from the gene- 
 ral neglect of such duties. 
 
 To come then to the ordinary scenes of life ; — that man is 
 ashamed of his religion who scruples to express his disappro- 
 bation of any licentious and blasphemous conversation by 
 which it is attacked. It is not in the power of every one to 
 reason ; it is the privilege only of age or of authority, to re- 
 buke ; but every one can make others understand that he is 
 displeased, that his finest feelings have been trampled upon, 
 and his strongest opinion despised. It may poison vicious 
 mirth, but it is the duty of every man to incur this temporary 
 displeasure, and to offend by the rigour of his nature, rather 
 than to sin by its facility. — This is one occasion for professing 
 Christ before men; an occasion very arduous to a gentle na- 
 ture, because it is necessary to run counter to the tenour of 
 men's spirits, and to quench the vivacity of pleasure by a 
 dignified and serious concern ; but painful as it is, it must be 
 done. Wherever we are called upon to promote the interests 
 of man and the glory of .God, by professing Christ before the 
 w^orld, if we deny him, he also will deny us on the judgment 
 day : He, the only mediator between the dust and ashes which 
 we are, and the God that gave them life. 
 
 To comply with any custom or fashion of the world, which 
 we know to be in opposition to the precepts of religion, and 
 to comply, merely, because we are averse to confess the power 
 . which religion has over us, is to deny Christ before the world, 
 'and to fear man more than God.— -It is our duty at such time, 
 not only to dissent, but to state the true reason for that dis- 
 sent ; to make it clear that we abstain from the action or dis- 
 
260 ON THE FOLLY OF BEING ASHAMED OF RELIGION. 
 
 sent from the custom, because it is religiously wrong, because 
 God has forbidden it, because no man can, with any consist- 
 ency, profess himself a Christian, and violate the plainest 
 rules which Christ has taught. — This is antiquated language ; 
 there is nothing in it of that polished facility, which is perpe- 
 tually crumbling away the ancient barriers of good and evil ; 
 but say it modestly, say it simply, say it kindly, say it from 
 the bottom of your heart, and you will speak and act in the 
 genuine spirit of a Christian; you will confess Christ before 
 men, and in a great and a perilous season, he will confess 
 you before our Father which is in Heaven. 
 
 The truth is, that men of refined taste are unwilling to con- 
 fess the influence which religion possesses over them, from 
 the apprehension that their motives will be mistaken ; rehgion 
 is sometimes a veil worn by hypocrites ; sometimes it is an 
 instrument for obtaining power ; sometimes men make it a 
 cloak for gratifying their resentments, and raise the cry of 
 impiety against those whom they envy or hate ; and some- 
 times religion degenerates into fanaticism, and works the 
 utter decay of all the best faculties of the mind ; all these im- 
 putations may be made against the man who professes Christ 
 before the world ; but you are not fit to be a Christian, if you 
 cannot bear that your motives should be for a moment mis- 
 taken ; take care that you do not use religion as the instru- 
 ment of your ambition and your hatred ; be not clad in the 
 cloak of hypocrisy ; beware of a mad and foolish enthusiasm ; 
 keep your hearts pure from the reality of these vices, and be 
 sure that the imputation of them will never remain long upon 
 you ; but at all events tremble to deny Christ before men ; 
 but, when shame and danger are at hand, come forward and 
 say, I am one of these, I am a GaHlean, 1 was with Jesus of 
 Nazareth ; for if you deny him from the fear of men, the time 
 ■v^ill come when you will feel the anguish of Peter, and like 
 him go forth, and weep bitterly. 
 
 To conceal even crime increases it, and men are inclined 
 to extend some slight degree of indulgence to vices candidly 
 confessed. But what indulgence have they for him, who 
 blushes at the God to whom he prays ? who disowns the sup- 
 plication that has just been poured forth from his heart? 
 Who struts away before men as a free and original spirit ; 
 and then casts himself down before that being, whom he 
 knows to be the rewarder and the punisher of men, and from 
 whose hand the thunder and the manna fall ? As it will be 
 
ON THE FOLLY OF BEING ASHAMED OF RELIGION. 281 
 
 more tolerable for Sodom and Gomorrah, in the day of judg- 
 ment, that never knew Christ, than for that city where he 
 taught and died ; so also it shall be more tolerable for the 
 scoffer ; it shall be better even for the fool, that says in his 
 heart there is no God, than for him who looks up to a heaven 
 that disgraces him ; and pins his soul upon a faith, which he 
 smothers as a crime. And what after all is this weakness 
 that we are afraid of confessing before men ? that in this frail 
 and feverish existence we want the aid of rehgion ; that where 
 there are so many human beings, we are afraid to lose so 
 much we wish to enjoy, and such little life to enjoy it ; that 
 we do venture to hope all things are regulated here by a wise 
 ■and a just God ; but this is not all ; if the whole truth is told, 
 it will turn out that we believe in another world, that we think 
 the angel of God will come, and separate the wicked from 
 the just ; that the record of Christ, which is received by half 
 the world, is acknowledged by us also ; that under the im- 
 pression of these truths, it is not to be denied that we do 
 sometimes most fervently implore the pity and protection of 
 the great God of the universe ; this is what we would not 
 have men know ; these are the shameful discoveries which 
 we dread to reveal to the impious, which would put an end 
 for ever to all careless bravery about rehgion, and sink us at 
 once in the estimation of thie most profligate and abandoned 
 of men. 
 
 Whatever we think or do, we are naturally induced to de- 
 fend ; our pride carries us to it, it is the genius of our nature ; 
 we often exceed the measure of right in obeying that feeling, 
 but here pride is a virtue ; inflexible perseverance is a great 
 excellence, intrepid avowal is a sacred duty ; we may give 
 way to all that conviction that our cause is right, without the 
 smallest possibility of any excess. We are placed in such a 
 situation that we are promoting our salvation by adhering to 
 our opinions, and performing one of the highest duties of re- 
 ligion, by defending the decisions of our understanding. 
 
 Lastly, we ought to learn something of intrepidity from bad 
 men. There can be no reason why they, who believe that 
 the soul perishes, should exalt themselves above us who have 
 not abandoned the hope of an hereafter ; it is a strange cause 
 for increase of confidence that they consider themselves out of 
 the protection of Providence ; and the worst of all excuses for 
 despondent shame, that we strive to model our lives and ac- 
 tions, after a pure law revealed to us from above. 
 
262 ON THE FOLLY OF BEING ASHAMED OF RELIGION. 
 
 It is a disgusting spectacle to see religion tinged with ar- 
 rogance ; but a consciousness of its own dignity, a resolution 
 never to be shamed from its principles, a promptitude on all 
 trying occasions, to proclaim them with increased firmness, 
 and to put on even the spirit of martyrdom in their support, 
 this spirit a Christian must assume ; without it he is no Chris- 
 tian ; for our great master has never taught us to be so humble 
 as to yield up the truth of the Gospel to every invader that 
 approaches, but teaching us in all other things, to be meek 
 like him, he has taught us in this, to be firm like him, to bear 
 witness to the truth, without any fear of men. And he has 
 told us, if we deny him before the world, he also will deny 
 us at the last and dreadful day, before the Father which is in 
 Heaven, 
 
SERMON XXXVIII 
 
 ON INVASION. 
 
 Then said Judas Maccabeus, it is better for us to die in battle than to be- 
 hold the calamities of our people, and our sanctuary. Nevertheless^ as 
 the will of God in Heaven is, so let him do. — 1st book of Maccabees 
 III. VERSE 59. 
 
 "*It is not I believe in strictness, the practice of our church 
 to seek for texts in the Apocryphal writings ; I have, however, 
 ventured to do so in this particular instance, to recall to your 
 notice the books of the Maccabees ; — a piece of history glow- 
 ing with eloquence and piety, pregnant with good example, 
 and applicable in the happiest manner, to the perils of the 
 present time. These books relate to one of those positions 
 of human affairs which awakens every good feeling in the 
 minds of those who contemplate it, which, by the hidden 
 energies it calls forth, and by the secret power which it has 
 to make men better, and braver than themselves, communi- 
 cates to history the vivacity and interest of romance. This, 
 however, is the least important consequence of such history 
 as relates successful resistance to tyranny ; it is a luminous 
 beacon to the world, a perpetual warning to mankind never 
 to be oppressed ; it teaches us in times like these, to measure 
 force not by the numbers of men, but by the passions with 
 which they are actuated, and the rights for which they con- 
 tend. It shows us that all can be gained by courage when 
 all seems lost ; and that those who, like Judas, can feel that 
 it is better to die than to suffer, may enjoy, like Judas, vic- 
 tory and renown. 
 
 * This Sermon was preached before a large body of volunteers in the 
 Metropolis, in the Summer of 1804, when the danger of invasion was con- 
 sidered to be imminent. 
 
364 ON INVASION. 
 
 Nor is it a slight thing, that by enforcing our beh'ef in the 
 moral order of the universe, such history teaches us to depend 
 on Almighty God. When we see the immense armies of 
 Antiochus defeated by a few of these bold Hebrews, and hosts 
 that might have swallowed up the whole earth, broken to 
 pieces one after the other, by the valour of this extraordinary 
 man, we begin then to see that the world is safe ; that there 
 is a reaction of human passions, a mighty order, awfully 
 planned, mercifully conceived, carefully preserved, by which 
 the sum of human happiness is imperishable. From such 
 consolatory examples as these, (in which, I thank Heaven no 
 history is deficient,) when we have heard long of the reign of 
 tyrants, we have the firmest confidence that God is preparing 
 for us relief. No man can tell the hour and the day, but 
 there is a secret and encouraging conviction that the time of 
 liberation will at last come. God has said to the waves, thus 
 far shalt thou go and no farther : we have the evidence of our 
 senses that he is obeyed : I believe the same God has said to 
 human passions, thus far shalt thou go and no farther ; and 
 that the feelings of men obey him like the waters of the sea. 
 I believe it to be his eternal decree, that such tyrants as An- 
 tiochus shall at last raise up such heroes as Judas : and when 
 I see the men of my own land coming out ready for war, as 
 you are doing this day, I see the same marks of eternal order 
 and wisdom, that has reared up the rocks to save us from the 
 deep ; — you are the barriers, and you are the rocks that limit 
 unjust aggression, and ambitious violence ; a nation of free 
 men, sacramented together, a joining of all hands, a knitting 
 of all hearts, the cry of the valiant Judas, that it is better to 
 die ! these make the boundaries of rapine and of desola- 
 tion ; at these awful signs the robbers of the earth are ap- 
 palled, and dread lest they should have provoked mankind 
 enough. 
 
 Such are the feelings with which we are naturally inspired 
 by the perusal of this spirited history, in which the parallel 
 to our present situation is so exact that it should be the 
 manual of the times. But from this general eulogium 
 on the history of the Maccabees, I must proceed to an 
 examination of the particular text which I have extracted 
 from it. 
 
 This sentiment of Judas was pronounced at the eve of one 
 of the greatest battles which he fought ; on the morrow he was 
 about to commit to the chance of war the fate of the holy city 
 
ON INVASION. 265 
 
 and of the chosen people ; his address to his Httle army con- 
 tains a morahty which is simple, just and subHme. "Arm 
 yourselves, (he says,) and be valiant men, sAd see that ye 
 be in readiness against the morning, that ye may fight with 
 these nations that are assembled together against us and our 
 sanctury, to destroy us. For it is better for us to die in battle 
 than to behold the calamities of our people and our sanc- 
 tuary. Nevertheless, as the will of God in heaven is, so let 
 him do." 
 
 In conformity then with the sentiment of Judas, I shall 
 endeavour to state what those outward advantages are, which 
 constitute the principal blessings of life, and under the priva- 
 tion of which, a wise man would cease to wish to Hve. 
 
 I pass over the herd of Epicurus, who would exist at any 
 price, and under any complication of baseness and anguish. I 
 am addressing myself to men who love a moral, not an animal 
 life, a life not numbered by days, but by feelings and passions, 
 and who know that there is somewhere or other a point 
 of suffering when (if such be the will of God) it is better 
 to die. 
 
 One circumstance, then, which much enhances the pleasure 
 of life is liberty. Without liberty the value of life is doubt- 
 ful; to see oppression without interference, to suffer it without 
 resistance, to consider that life and property are at the mercy 
 of one who has no more natural right to Hve or to enjoy than 
 ourselves, is a source of the most bitter and unquiet feelings to 
 elevated minds. For liberty, many have ventured their lives 
 who knew liberty only by description. We have lived the 
 life of free men, we have heard the name of freedom when 
 we were children, and in all the relations of life we have 
 found it to be more than a name. The enjoyment of it is so 
 wrought and tempered into our daily habits, that any internal 
 attempt to destroy the constitution of this realm could not suc- 
 ceed but by the most enormous waste of human life. — The 
 name is too dear, the feeling too deep — the habit too invete- 
 rate ; it would be easier almost to destroy this people, than to 
 enslave them ; and yet what are the sufferings of internal 
 tyranny, in comparison with those of foreign subjugation: 
 First there would be burnings, and massacres, and plunders ; 
 a promiscuous carnage of the English race : a thousand 
 flames would burst forth in this venerable city, and shed their 
 horrid light upon the dying and the dead ; and when the 
 s^vord had drank its full, and the flower of this race was per- 
 33 
 
266 ON INVASION. 
 
 ished away, — then think of the silence of a land, over which 
 an avenging enemy had passed ; no loom— no plough — no 
 ship — no tolling of the hell to church — no cheerful noise of 
 the artificer — a land spent and extinguished, a people apos- 
 tate to their ancient spirit and their ancient fame. If you 
 think life worth having after this, if you will live when Eng- 
 land does not live ; if you will fawn at the feet of a foreign 
 soldier, for a few years of existence ; if you will put on the 
 smiles of a slave, after you have worn the countenance of a 
 free man, then live on, and may life be your punishment ! You 
 will remember when it is too late, the cry of Maccabeus, that 
 it is better to die in battle, than to behold the calamities of 
 your people and your sanctuary. 
 
 I would say that the happiness of life depends upon an un- 
 polluted sanctury, upon a pure state of rehgion ; without it, 
 crimes multiply, laxity prevails in morals, society becomes a 
 compound of fraud and voluptuousness ; the motives for life 
 are weakened: therefore Judas said well when he said, 1 will 
 never see a polluted sanctuary. 
 
 Life becomes more valuable under a wise administration of 
 good laws gradually elaborated by experience. It becomes 
 more valuable in a cultivated state of the arts and sciences, 
 more in a high state of commercial and agricultural pros- 
 perity of our country, more from its renown among the na- 
 tions of the world : by all the wisdom that has been employed 
 to make that country great and good, by all the lives that 
 have been sacrificed to make it secure, by all the industry 
 which has been exerted to render it opulent, by the deep tinge 
 which it has received of the Christian character, by the num- 
 ber of those servants of God who have left in their lives and 
 writings a great example to the people, by the rich presents 
 which God has at any time made to it of men famous for their 
 beautiful sayings and their genius : by this measure of value 
 the loss of a country is to be tried, and by this measure we 
 must decide whether it is better to die than to lose it. 
 
 There is another consideration to which Judas's magnani- 
 mous contempt of life may be applied : Born to higher and 
 to better things, would you lead a hfe of manual labour X 
 Would you cultivate the earth you once possessed, and if ye;^ 
 could put up with such a life, could you endure it for others^ 
 whom you love more than yourselves ? All this Judas had 
 seen, and he declared it was better to die than to see it. 
 
 I have thus generally stated those exterior advantages 
 
ON INVASION. 267 
 
 which give a value to life ; now let me apply it to ^you, and 
 bring it home to the chambers of your hearts. Do you feel 
 that you are free men? Have you good laws? Have you a 
 pure religion ? Is England cultivated ? Is it rich ? Is it 
 powerful ? Is it renowned? Did you ever hear it had done 
 great deeds ? Did you ever hear it had nourished great men ? 
 I know that, but for the sanctity of this place you would answer 
 with loud shouts and cries that all these things are so. Why 
 then I say, in the hour of danger remember Judas, and think 
 it better to die in battle, than to behold the calamities of such 
 a people and such a land. 
 
 But in order to put on the spirit of Judas, we should know 
 well that it will bear no backsliding, no wavering, no compu- 
 tation. The resolution once taken, we must advance, or we 
 perish ; we must not imagine that the danger will not come, 
 and believe we are playing at magnanimity and heroism ; the 
 danger is pressing on against us with rapid strides ; in a little 
 time every man may be reminded of his threats, and his 
 covenant of war and courage exacted at his hands ; the lintel 
 post of every door may be smitten with blood, and the loud 
 cries of the helpless, the sick and the young may pierce our 
 hearts. Be not deceived, there is no wall of adamant, no tri- 
 ple flaming sword, to drive off those lawless assassins that have 
 murdered and pillaged in every other land ; Heaven has 
 made with us no covenant, that there should be joy and 
 peace here, and waihng, and lamentation in the world be- 
 sides ; I would counsel you to put on a mind of patient suf- 
 fering and noble acting ; whatever energies there are in the 
 human mind, you will want them all ; every man will be 
 tried to the very springs of his heart, and those times are at 
 hand which will show us all as we really are, with the gen- 
 uine stamp and value, be it much or be it little, which nature 
 has impressed upon each living soul. 
 
 Having thus endeavoured to illustrate and enforce the 
 leading principle of contempt of hfe, contained in the former 
 part of -this text, I pass on to its conclusion, and to the other 
 striking part of the character of Judas, his piety. The most 
 splendid writers of Pagan history have nothing equal to the 
 sp 'ech of Judas before he fights with Seron and his host. 
 " Then said Judas to his men : It is no hard matter for many 
 to be shut up in the hands of a few ; and with the God of 
 heaven it is all one to dehver with a small company, or 
 
268 ON INVASION. 
 
 with a great multitude. For the victory of battle standeth 
 not in the multitude of an host, but strength cometh from 
 heaven ; they come against us in much pride and iniquity to 
 destroy us, and our wives and children, and to spoil us ; but 
 we fight for our lives and our laws. Wherefore, the Lord 
 himself will overthrow them before our face ; and as for ye, 
 be ye not afraid of them." 
 
 The different manner of the two people in making their 
 attack, is solemn and affecting; may it be ominous. "Then 
 Nicanor, and they that were with him, came forward with 
 trumpets and songs ; but Judas and his company encountered 
 their enemies with invocation and prayer ; so that fighting 
 with their hands, and praying to God with their hearts, they 
 were greatly cheered." You will listen more to such an 
 example than to many precepts ; our enemies mock at God, 
 and say it is their own arm which getteth them the victory ; 
 let us ask the aid of him who breaketh in pieces the chariot, 
 and snappeth the spear asunder ; who is more to be feared 
 than an army with banners. They may mock, but in truth 
 the angel of God is ever present at the battle ; his spirits 
 and ministers hover over the danger; they receive the 
 parting spirits of Christians ; they listen to the distant prayers 
 of kindred, and turn away the arrow from a father, or a 
 child ; without their knowledge, not one shall fall to the 
 ground. 
 
 A greater contest than that in which we are engaged, the 
 world has never seen ; for we are not fighting the battle of 
 our country alone, but we are fighting to decide the question, 
 whether there shall be any more freedom upon the earth. If 
 we are subdued, the great objects of life are vanquished ; all 
 reason for living is at an end. There remains a barren, 
 vacant earth, from which every good man would beg of hea- 
 ven that he might escape. But I have better, and brighter 
 hopes ; I trust in the watching providence of Heaven, in the 
 manly sense, and the native courage of this people. I believe 
 they will act now, as they have ever acted before — with un- 
 daunted boldness. I have a boundless confidence in the 
 Enghsh character; I believe that they have more of real 
 religion, more probity, more knowledge, and more genuine 
 worth, than exists in the whole world besides : they are 
 the guardians of pure Christianity ; and from this prostituted 
 nation of merchants, (as they are in derision called,) I believe 
 
ON INVASION. 369 
 
 more heroes will spring up in the hour of danger, than all 
 the mihtary nations of ancient and modern Europe have 
 ever produced. Into the hands of God, then, and his ever 
 merciful Son, we cast ourselves, and wait in humble 
 patience the result : — First we ask for victory, but if that 
 
 cannot be, we have only one other prayer we implore 
 
 for death. 
 
 23* 
 
•|^ ■ . . ^<'.^.<r^,-:i>^4 
 
 SERMON XXXIX. 
 
 UPON THE SPECIAL INTERFERENCE 
 OF PROVIDENCE. 
 
 And when Paul had gathered a bundle of sticks, and laid them on the fire, 
 there came a viper out of the heat, and fastened on his hand. And 
 when the Barbarians saw the venomous beast hang on his hand, they 
 said, this man is a murderer. But when they saw no harm happen to 
 him, they changed their minds, and said he was a God. — Acts xxviii. 3d 
 and following verses. 
 
 This lively picture^f the judgments of the people of Melite, 
 is a fair example of the general disposition of all multitudes, 
 to ascribe the striking events of life to a particular Provi- 
 dence; to believe that every instance of prosperity is a reward 
 sent from God; and every example of adversity a punishment 
 emanating from his anger. The attack of the serpent the 
 Barbarians could not attribute to accident ; the slow effect of 
 its poison, upon the body of the apostle, they were equally 
 disposed to consider as miraculous; an action natural (though 
 extraordinary) it could not be, but as the event varied its as- 
 pect, the unconscious animal had fastened upon a murderer, 
 or wounded a god. 
 
 Such has been the disposition of mankind, in all ages, to 
 judge of the interposition of the Deity. We must all remem- 
 ber, that at one period of our own history, a regular appeal 
 was made to the immediate judgments of Providence, for 
 the establishment of innocence or guilt. Such an appeal 
 became the established law of the land ; and the magistrates 
 looked on to behold the innocent man walk upon the summit 
 of the waters, or trample unhurt upon the burning iron. It 
 has, in fact, ever been the tendency of human nature to liken 
 divine justice to human justice in its most perfect shape, and 
 
UPON THE SPECIAL INTERFERENCE OF PROVIDENCE. 271 
 
 to suppose that he, to whom all hearts are open, would never 
 suffer the just to perish, while the guilty prosper and live. 
 Such ideas are very natural ; nor is it at all difficult to under- 
 stand whence they have originated, or why they have been 
 so generally diffused ; on the contrary it has required the ex- 
 perience of ages, and the endless repetition of precept, to 
 wean mankind from these false and limited conceptions of 
 divine Providence to convince them that the Creator has not 
 formed himself after their model, and that the ways of man 
 are not necessarily the ways of God. 
 
 Even now, it is the pious and the good that talk most of 
 judgments ; to say that an event was brought about by the 
 special interference of Providence, is considered as the ge- 
 nuine language of rehgion, and to doubt it is to exhibit a cold 
 and sceptical species of understanding. I will endeavour, 
 however, to show that an habit of referring all the events of 
 this world to a particular Providence, is a very dangerous 
 habit, derogating from the power and wisdom of the Al- 
 mighty, and exceedingly apt to expose rehgion to the scorn 
 and ridicule of unbelievers. 
 
 in the first place, if we acquire the habit of speaking per- 
 petually of judgments, and of referring everything to a parti- 
 cular interference of Providence, how are we to get over the 
 present state of the world, as it exists plainly before our 
 eyes ? Is it the good only who are covered with blessings ? 
 Does this earth seem to be the inheritance of the just ? Have 
 we never seen virtue living and dying in wretchedness ? Is 
 it quite new to us, to hear of the unbroken prosperity of 
 bad men, of the honours which they reach, and of the gra- 
 tifications which they enjoy ? Reconcile if you can, these 
 appearances with your supposition of the perpetual interfer- 
 ence of a divine Providence, and show us why poverty and 
 anguish are not kept for the scourges of guilt alone ; why 
 the tears of the good ever fall down upon the earth ; and 
 why the just cry for the mercy of God. While you mean 
 to be pious, in referring all to an immediate Providence, 
 you are, in fact, depriving religion of its most powerful 
 argument ; it has always been said, you are not to look 
 here for the rewards of righteousness ; because God is just, 
 and because men are not rewarded here according to their 
 works, because we do not perceive a wise and regular system 
 operating in the distribution of human happiness; there- 
 fore, we must conceive, that there is, beyond this life, 
 
272 UPON THE SPECIAL INTERFERENCE OF PROVIDENCE. 
 
 ^T another system of existence where this apparent injustice 
 ' will be corrected, and the happiness we enjoy be apportioned 
 to the merits we possess. One of the most striking argu- 
 ments for futurity, has been drawn fronk the absence of that 
 particular Providence, from the suspense of those immediate 
 judgments, for the existence of which, mistaken piety is so 
 apt to contend. 
 
 By pretending that virtue and vice are so frequently 
 punished and rewarded by the Deity, even in this world, 
 and by struggling against the plain current of facts, you 
 •^ \ throw an air of ridicule upon religion, by compelling it to 
 account for events under a false theory ; religion is taunted 
 with the high fortune of impious conquerors ; men expect 
 that we should explain why innocent and peaceful nations 
 are massacred and rooted up ; when they see that it is not 
 always the good cause which prevails, but the strong cause, 
 they fall off from God, and think hghtly of that Providence 
 which they do not find such as human error has described it 
 to be. We know that God sees all; and that as the powerful 
 language of Scripture says, the hairs of our head are num- 
 bered ; that all things originate from God, we also know ; 
 but do they originate from the general rules he prescribes, or 
 from a partial interference for each particular object ? Is 
 it a great law, for instance, prescribed from the beginning, 
 that the excesses of the body should be punished by the 
 pains of the body, or does the sudden vengeance of the Al- 
 mighty smite the voluptuary with the disease which termi- 
 nates a shameless and pampered life ? Is it part of our 
 original creation, that the pangs of remorse should follow 
 guilt ? or does God send upon every sinner this evil spirit of 
 the mind for his present torment ? That we are all under the 
 guidance and omniscience of an Almighty being, no human 
 heart can doubt ; but the laws of that Almighty are grand, are 
 simple, are few ; nothing so derogatory to his nature, as to 
 suppose that he is perpetually deviating from them, or that he 
 guides one human being by many separate visitations of his 
 power, though he governs unnumbered worlds by a single act 
 of his will. 
 
 If a general law were not impressed upon the heavenly 
 bodies, which guided them unerringly in their course ; if it 
 needed fresh interposition to renew their vigour, and to con- 
 tinue their direction, it would at once argue a want of power, 
 and of foresight in their maker ; but in the moral world, we 
 
^ 
 
 UPON THE SPECIAL INTERFERENCE OF PROVIDENCE. 273 
 
 do not perceive how we are diminishing our notions of the 
 Deity, by supposing his original plan of human affairs to 
 be so imperfect, that he is always occupied in correcting it. 
 If God does so often interfere to punish the guilty, why was 
 not the original scheme of human affairs so constructed, that 
 sin should produce misery with as much certainty as each 
 fruit grows from its proper seed. If such is the case now, 
 why are the immediate judgments of God necessary ? but if 
 we conceive such judgments to be so common, are we not 
 guilty of impiety, in supposing the original plan of the uni- 
 verse to have been so imperfect, that the Creator of all is 
 perpetually occupied in its correction ? 
 
 We talk of judgments; but by what means are we to 
 ascertain what is reward, what punishment, till we have seen 
 the ultimate consequence of every event ? Joseph in the 
 dungeon knew not that he should be the lord of Egypt. 
 Abraham, about to slaughter his son, never thought of the 
 coming blessings of God. The wretched Daniel did not 
 believe that he should be lifted up from among the lions, to 
 be the chief servant of the eastern king. Many a soul has 
 been saved to God by sudden poverty; many have been 
 taught by diseases, and by the whisperings of death. Some 
 wealth has ruined, some honour, some fame ; we, who talk so 
 arrogantly of God's judgments ; alas, we know not when he 
 blesses, when he destroys, whether he is about to humble us 
 by apparent good, or to raise us up through the ministry of 
 sorrow and of pain. 
 
 Another evil resulting from the perpetual supposition of 
 judgments is, that it has a tendency to make success the 
 measure of merit ; if good and ill fortune are reward and 
 punishment, it will be difficult not to infer, that that cause 
 is just which is triumphant ; that unjust which is overcome ; 
 a fortunate man and a good man will be synonymous terms, 
 and unhappiness will be the infallible proof of sin ; a method 
 of decision pregnant with every evil, and against which reli- 
 gious and moral wisdom have in every age made the most 
 decided stand. 
 
 This habit of judging of the designs of Providence, and of 
 determining what are judgments, what ordinary events, is 
 apt, I fear, to cherish a species of arrogance and persecution 
 little compatible with Christian humiHty. From what power 
 of divination do I pretend to say, that this man is a murderer, 
 and that man a god ? where is that communication with the 
 
274 T7P0N THE SPECIAL INTERFERENCE OF PROVIDENCE. 
 
 Divine nature, that gives me authority to pronounce the 
 punishment of any human being to be miraculous, to say that 
 God has singled out any one as the object of his preternatural 
 vengeance, whose life, after all, may be wiser and better than 
 mine ? Let it be my care so to live, that the destroying angel 
 come not forth against me. I cannot read the signs of Heaven 
 in another's destiny ; nor can I tell when nature moves on as 
 she is wont, when the voice of God calls her from her ancient 
 course. 
 
 After all, however, let it be remembered, it is only of the 
 frequency and excess of this discovery of judgments, that a 
 rational complaint can be made ; that God did interfere, in 
 Scriptural ages, with his judgments, we know from Scriptural 
 authority ; nor is it weak, or superstitious to conceive, that 
 on the solemn epochs of human affairs, the judgments of God 
 do now go abroad on the earth ; and, that what looks all 
 human, is sometimes the work of invisible power ; but if you 
 perpetually say, this is of God, and that of God, you do not 
 glorify the Creator, but you dishonour the magnitude of those 
 attributes, with which the piety of his creatures has sur- 
 rounded his nature ; you consider those rules which he has 
 formed for the moral government of the world to be so im- 
 perfect, that they require perpetual correction, and incessant 
 change ; you erect yourself into an interpreter of God's will, 
 and a judge of man's merit ; but, what is worse than these, 
 by teaching what is notoriously untrue, that God commonly 
 interferes in this world, to punish the wicked and reward the 
 good, you shake, in the minds of weak men, the very founda- 
 tion of all religion, for they cannot live a year, or look with 
 the most careless eye upon the fate of men, and empires, 
 without perceiving that these things are not so ; and then, 
 with rash and headlong impiety, they doubt of a superintend- 
 ing Providence, because they cannot find that rapid and 
 visible Providence which mistaken zeal is ever ready to per- 
 ceive. All is noted down ; nothing is forgotten ; there is not 
 a tear you draw down upon the face of a human being, nor a 
 feeling of wretchedness you can strike into his heart, but 
 what it is eternally recorded against you ; no holy desire, no 
 secret sin, are lost ; in pain, in sorrow, in death, God is with 
 us, but we may hve on, untouched in our sin ; the hghtning 
 shall not harm us, nor the pestilence lay us low ; there is a 
 second, and a retributive world, where our punishment will 
 come ; the closing scene, the true interpretation of this am- 
 
UPON THE SPECIAL INTERFERENCE OF PROVIDENCE. 275 
 
 biguous and distressing world in which we live ; this, and 
 this only, explains why those frequent judgments do not go 
 forth, which it is so natural to man to expect ; why the ser- 
 pent is not armed against the murderer, and the impotent 
 against the pious and the good. And let us gratefully remem- 
 ber, that while the doctrine of futurity explains the present 
 endurance of evil, without recurring to the false supposition 
 of perpetual judgments, this doctrine does not rest upon 
 conjecture, is not invented to meet the difficulty, but is re- 
 vealed to us in the page of Scripture, and confirmed by the 
 death of Christ. 
 
SERMON XL. 
 
 ON TKUE EELIGION 
 
 True religion, and undefiled before God the Father, is this; to visit the 
 fatherless, and widows in affliction, and to keep yourselves unspotted 
 from the world. — James i. verse 27. 
 
 Our happiness in this life as well as in a life to come, de- 
 pends so entirely upon the cultivation of rational religion, 
 that the efforts to excite a just sense of its importance in the 
 minds of every Christian congregation cannot be too fre- 
 quently or too warmly repeated. Even since the revelation 
 of Jesus Christ, man has too often worshiped his God by 
 idolatry, by childish and absurd ceremonies, by tedious and 
 despicable disputes, by the tears of chained heretics, by 
 wasted provinces, by the burnt incense of human bodies ; 
 every vice and every error have been shrined in the name 
 of religion, and the merciless inquisitor, while he blasted his 
 most beautiful creations, did it for the praise and glory of his 
 God. 
 
 These tremendous warnings should impress upon our 
 minds the difficulty of attaining to proper notions of true 
 religion ; and though there have been, in these latter times, 
 great improvements in our conception of it, there may be yet 
 some remains of error, something which may escape our 
 vigilant examination, and baffle the efforts of the most serious 
 and most evangelical minds. 
 
 Under the term religion, are comprehended Faith, Devo- 
 tion, and Practice ; a belief in the existence of God, and Jesus 
 Christ, our blessed Lord ; prayer, public and private, and 
 obedience to what we know to be the law of God, or what we 
 believe to be his will. 
 
 First, in all our considerations of religion, we are too apt 
 
ON TRUE RELIGION. 277 
 
 to forget the ultimate end for which our Ahnighty Creator 
 made himself known to us ; we are weak enough to conceive 
 that God is soothed by our praises, and gratified by our adu- 
 lation ; that the maker of a million of worlds can dehght in 
 the praises and hosannahs of perishable men ; that any act of 
 ours can illustrate his dignity or magnify his name ; we be- 
 lieve that we are commanded to adore him, not to make our- 
 selves good, but to make him glorious ; not to set before that 
 which is frail, a model of purity, but to brighten that which 
 is pure by the breath of frailty. 
 
 From this, and from other causes proceeds that fatal and 
 common tendency of mankind to exalt the devotional above 
 the practical part of rehgion ; and to relax in the real per- 
 formance of what the Gospel enjoins exactly in proportion as 
 they comply with the ceremonies which it institutes. Not 
 that any but the lowest fanatics openly avow their neglect of 
 practical, and their preference of verbal piety ; but, that 
 numbers are guilcy of the error, almost without knowing it 
 themselves, and certainly without feeling the smallest dispo- 
 sition to defend it in theory ; it is contrary to the repeated 
 declarations of the Gospel; it is derogatory to the attributes 
 of the Deity to suppose that religion has any other object 
 than the happiness of mankind ; that Jesus Christ dwelt 
 among men for any other purpose but to show them that 
 rule of mortal life which leads them to life eternal ; and all 
 prayer and all devotion, should be resorted to for these ob- 
 jects as they remind us of that powerful being we adore, as 
 they fix in our hearts the sage, rigorous and pure rules of 
 morals which he has enacted, as they set before our eyes the 
 straight path and narrow gate which lead to the dwellings of 
 the just. 
 
 In the moments of self-examination, we must think what 
 shall be hereafter; when we remember with satisfaction, that 
 we were always on our knees in the temple, while others 
 were pursuing the vain business, or vainer pleasures of the 
 world, let us beware that we have something else to offer to 
 our God but sainted words, and holy kneelings, and suppli- 
 cating hymns ; imagine not, that statute praise and written 
 adoration can atone for a dissipated, .selfish, uncharitable life, 
 or that the postures of our bodies will be taken for the sin 
 of our souls ; mere devotion, barren of good actions, differs in 
 nothing from the gross idolatry of Pagan worship ; flocks and 
 hecatombs are as good as gestures and words ; they offered 
 34 
 
2T8 ON TRUE RELIGION. 
 
 Up the blood of a victim, and you the breath of 5^ man ; you 
 approach your Creator with the sound of pious melody? and 
 they brought to him whom they thought to be their Creator, 
 the sweet savour of burning spices. In what did the folly 
 of these religions consist, but that they thought every idle 
 object of sense more acceptable to the Deity than the firm 
 dominion over bad passions and the noble exercise of aid and 
 mercy to mankind ? and how have they improved upon this 
 error, who substitute adulation for obedience and constantly 
 neglect the rule which they regularly recite? " Not every one," 
 says our Saviour, " who sayeth unto me. Lord! Lord! but he 
 that doeth the will of my Father, which is in Heaven;" in 
 truth, the first condition of piety is much easier than the last ; 
 it is easier to cry Lord ! Lord ! than to do his will ; it is easier 
 to extol his attributes than to imitate them, even at the hum- 
 blest distance ; few would fail of immortality if the only price 
 of it were devotion, and many would purchase on their knees, 
 the privilege of sinning with impunity; it is not here that 
 our nature is tried ; this is not the proper ordeal of man. It 
 is more difficult to forgive an injury, to embrace an enemy, 
 to stop a bitter word, or to sacrifice a beloved pleasure to 
 charity, than to repeat a liturgy of prayers ; yet, remember 
 the words: True religion, and undefiled before God the Fa- 
 ther, is this, — to visit the fatherless, and widows in affliction, 
 and to keep yourselves unspotted from the world. These 
 are the real sacrifices to God ; there is more joy in Heaven 
 over one good deed, than over ninety and nine solemn sup- 
 plications which bring forth no good deed. 
 
 At the same time, devotional religion is so necessary to 
 practical religion, and so important, when considered as an 
 instrument rather than an end, that it is impossible to con- 
 ceive how an uniform tenour of good conduct can be sup- 
 ported without it ; from the perpetual mention of the attributes 
 of our Creator in prayer, we fashion in our minds that ideal 
 model of excellence, which, like a flaming pillar, guides us 
 through the wilderness of life ; in prayer we are reminded 
 of human misery ; the hope of his future mercy, the persua- 
 sive example of Christ softens the heart hardened by business 
 and pleasure ; in prayer, all that is bad, and low, and base is 
 forgotten ; something whfch belongs not to this world is min- 
 gled with our nature, and the breath of God is breathed upon 
 us. In prayer the seeds of action are sown ; but let us remem- 
 ber we shall be judged by the fruit. 
 
-A 
 
 ON TRUE RELIGION. 279 
 
 Men are not only tempted to prefer devotion to practice 
 from the mistaken notion that it can of itself be acceptable to 
 the Deity, and from the superior facility of praying like a 
 Christian to that of living like a Christian; but because it is 
 that part of religion of which the world takes the greatest 
 cognizance ; whereas the real question which every man 
 should put to his own soul, is, not how often I have vowed 
 to do good, but how often I have done it ; not how often I have 
 repeated the law, but how much 1 have obeyed it ; not what 
 I have promised, but what I have performed ; for prayer with- 
 out good action is nothing but increase of guilt, because it 
 indicates how well we comprehended and how accurately 
 we remembered the duty which we have neglected to dis- 
 charge. 
 
 Another error to which we are exposed in our search after 
 true religion, is that of intemperate zeal or enthusiasm. ; an error 
 which often leads to the lowest and most contemptible fana- 
 ticism; often terminates in melancholy, in madness, or in 
 voluntary death. The passions have too mighty an influence 
 on religious opinion, not to render it necessary that they 
 should be suspected and watched. Hope, — fear, — gratitude, 
 —despair, — and every powerful principle of our nature^ may 
 all be called in to the aid of fanaticism ; artful men, or mista- 
 ken and enthusiastic men, can always corrupt some one pas- 
 sion by the allurements of rehgion ; and, by that unguarded 
 avenue, find their way to the inward heart. When once men 
 substitute for sinaple, intelligible rules of right and wrong, 
 the notion of extraordinary impulse, mysterious feeling, reli- 
 gious instinct, and, in general, any preternatural and myste- 
 rious afTection, reason looks like indifference, and common 
 sense appears to border upon impiety ; extravagance becomes 
 the test of godliness, and nothing is considered as acceptable 
 to the Deity, that is not laughable and contemptible to the 
 rational part of his creatures. 
 
 There is, in truth, a vitiated appetite in our nature for mys- 
 tery and terror ; we are disappointed by simplicity ; we nau- 
 seate that which is common, and despise every thing which 
 we comprehend; the languid mind must gaze at something 
 in the distant ground, half visible, half in shade; an object 
 half pleasing, half terrible, full of promise, and full- of threat ; 
 lovely and hateful; incongruous and impossible. We are so 
 desirous of involving religion in mystery, that we are dis- 
 pleased at finding it so clear in its nature, and so definite in 
 
280 ON TRUE RELIGION. 
 
 its object ; we require a more splended and magnificent ser- 
 vitude ; we despise the waters of Israel, and pant for Tabana, 
 and Farfar, and the mighty rivers of Damascus. — But I may- 
 ask with the Prophet, if God had bid you do some great thing, 
 would you not have done it ? How much the rather then, 
 when he sayeth unto you, have mercy and be clean ; how 
 much the rather then, when he sayeth unto you, comfort the 
 fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep your- 
 selves unspotted from the world. 
 
 In our religious progress, we are menaced by two opposite 
 evils, — indifference, and fanaticism,— which, like all contrary 
 excesses reciprocally generate each other; the horror of in- 
 difference inflames ardour ; and disgust at extravagance in- 
 creases indifference ; of the danger of the former, I hope I 
 think as seriously as any minister of the Gospel can do ; and 
 I have on other occasions, in the discharge of my duty, in- 
 sisted upon it, as well as I was able ;— that I have not unduly 
 magnified the latter, a very slight acquaintance with the his- 
 tory of religion will sufficiently evince. 
 
 To this head of intemperate enthusiasm is to be referred 
 that eager reception which the interpretation of prophecies 
 has, of late days, experienced among us.— There are some 
 prophecies so plain that they cannot be mistaken, and so im- 
 portant, that they have very properly been insisted upon, as 
 the strongest proofs of our religion; but the endless attempt 
 at fresh interpretation and the desire to apply passages from 
 the Prophets to the political events of the present times, should 
 surely be received with the greatest caution ; because it is a 
 subject above all others, in which the passions of weak, timid 
 people may betray their judgment, and because it is notorious 
 to common sense, that to support such interpretation, the lan- 
 guage of the Prophets has been distorted in the most violent 
 and uncandid manner. Far be it from me to blame the attempt 
 at farther explanation altogether ; I only contend, that it is an 
 attempt which should be made with the greatest humility and 
 received with the greatest caution ; at the same time, I have 
 no scruple to say, that this practice has, of late years, been 
 carried to the most blameable and pernicious excess ; predic- 
 tions of the most trifling events have been sought for, and dis- 
 covered in the Prophets, and the credulity of mankind abused 
 in a manner which has given a fresh handle to infidelity, and 
 cast unmerited obloquy upon true rehgion; true religion, 
 which is .always sure to suffer for the errors and absurdities 
 
ON TRtJE RELIGION. 
 
 ^^1 
 
 which the superstitious ignorance of man is perpetually fos- 
 tering upon it. 
 
 As true religion consists neither in devotion alone, nor in 
 fanaticism at all, it does not consist any more in theology, 
 which we are apt to confound with it ; the danger is that we 
 mistake the means and instruments by which we are to 
 make ourselves religious, for religion itself; theology and 
 prayer are instruments of the highest importance to the fur- 
 therance of true religion, but they are still different from re- 
 ligion itself. The ambiguities consequent upon translation, 
 the inevitable difficulties of words considered as a vehicle of 
 thought, the proceedings of the Christian church, down to this 
 period, the evidence in favour of Christianity, the questions 
 which must arise from the application of a general rule to 
 particular cases, have all made it necessary, that the Scrip- 
 tures should be profoundly and accurately studied, and have 
 given birth to the science of theology; but Almighty God in 
 revealing to us his Gospel, would have defeated his own be- 
 nevolent purpose, if everything which that Gospel contains, 
 might not be apprehended without laborious and critical study. 
 Upon the more important and practical parts of Christianity^ 
 there has been little or no controversy ; every body knows 
 that mercy, that charity, that meekness, that obedience to the 
 higher powers, that every fundamental principle of morals, 
 on which the happiness of mankind reposes, are taught in 
 the sacred writings, with a strength which rivets attention, 
 and a precision which excludes mistake. It is right that 
 more speculative questions should be agitated by those to 
 whom these matters are properly and professionally a care ; 
 but it never could have been the intention of all-wise Provi- 
 dence, that subjects difficult enough to exercised understand- 
 ings, should be a necessary and indispensable matter of 
 thought and inquiry for every well disposed Christian. 
 
 I have thus endeavoured to caution you against a few of 
 those errors which vitiate our conceptions of true religion ; 
 and teach us to sacrifice the substance to the phantom and 
 shade of piety. If any other proof were wanting of the Di- 
 vine origin of Christianity, this alone would be of the highest 
 importance ; that it is the onty religion which does not de- 
 grade our notions of the Deity, by investing him with the 
 lowest of human passions. The Pagan sacrificed his milk- 
 white heifer, without blemish, cast frankincense on the flame, 
 and went forth justified before his God. The Mahomedan 
 
282 ON TRUE RELIGION. 
 
 bathes in the stream, and turns nine times towards holy Mecca, 
 and is cleansed from all his iniquities : — the meek and patient 
 Hindoo eateth not of that which has life, and blesses his be- 
 loved Ganges, and these things are counted unto him for 
 righteousness. The Christian must offer up to God some 
 heart that he hath lightened, and some spirit that he hath 
 made glad ; the prayers of sick, wretched creatures, must go 
 up for him to heaven ; he must come to the altar, surrounded 
 by fatherless children ; his enemies must he prostrate at his 
 feet, conquered by gentleness, goodness, and forbearance ; 
 he must give to the reviler, blessings for curses ; he must be 
 the defence of those who seek his destruction ; he must avert 
 wrath with lovely, peaceable words ; by his wise discourse, 
 and by his fair honourable life, he must turn men from their 
 sins, to the worship of the Lord their God. This is the piety 
 of a Christian ; this is the path which leads to immortal life ; 
 to have a lively faith, to pray always for blessings from 
 above ; but to remember in the midst of our prayers, that 
 true religion and undefiled before God the Father is this, to 
 visit the fatherless and widows in affliction ; and to keep 
 yourselves unspotted from the world. 
 
 .^M^^^^ 
 
SERMON XLI. 
 
 ON THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL; 
 
 But some man will say, how are the dead raised up ? And with what body 
 do they come ? Thou fool ! that which thou sowest is not quickened 
 except it die; and that which thou sowest, thou sowest not that body 
 which shall be, but bare grain, it may chance of wheat or some other 
 grain ; but God giveth it a body as it hath pleased him,— and to every 
 seed his own body. — First book of Corinthians xv. verse 35. 
 
 He who looks at any object of matter, can scarcely be said 
 to know at what it is he does look if he confines himself only 
 to its present qualities and neglects the indications of its future 
 existence. 
 
 Look at the seed ; does it move ? Is there in it the sHghtest 
 sign of life ? Could any man conjecture, previous to expe- 
 rience, that it would not always remain what it now is ? yet, 
 of that seed comes the green herb ; man gathers of it his 
 daily bread ; or if such be its body, it riseth up to be the 
 strength and beauty of the forest. 
 
 The principle of change is indeed widely diffused over the 
 works of Providence ; few things are in that state now, in 
 which they are hereafter to remain ; the bird destined for the 
 air, sleeps in his shell ; the beautiful insect, that is to flutter in 
 the sun, crawls in the earth till the season of his glory is come. 
 The child that requires the hand of a parent to give him food, 
 may soon be changed into a saint or a sage. So, also (says 
 the great apostle) is it with the soul of man ; this is not its 
 resting place ; it was never intended to remain here, and to 
 be always as it now is; it will be changed as the seed is changed; 
 the corruptible will put on incorruption ; the mortal immor- 
 tality; the object for which it was created will be made mani- 
 fest ; at the very moment that it seems to perish, it is passing 
 
284 ON THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 
 
 into an higher order of creatures and getting hold of a better 
 life. 
 
 This comparison between the outward world and the 
 changes of the soul, set on foot by the holy apostle, may per- 
 haps be carried one step farther. 
 
 As we are admonished by experience of this propensity to 
 change in all the objects we behold, we accustom ourselves 
 to look out with eagerness and attention for the signs of these 
 changes ; we say of the seed, when it begins to burst this 
 part will become the branch, and from hence the root will 
 grow ; we trace out in the shell, the organs of the perfect 
 animal ; and we say with certainty, these are preparations for 
 a future existence ; to this perishing seed, to this inanimate 
 shell they are useless ; but the seed will grow, and the shell 
 will live ; these are the signs in them of a second state ; they 
 have other appearances to put on, and other objects to accom- 
 plish, to which their present being is entirely subordinate and 
 ministerial : this also is true of the soul of man ; it does not 
 do all here that it was intended to do ; it was never modeled 
 for this world alone ; there are in it qualities utterly useless 
 here, qualities which carry about with them the signs of pre- 
 paration, as if that soul was to undergo a great change, sur- 
 viving the body, and living for ever before God. 
 
 There cannot be a more awful speculation than to follow 
 out this train of thought, and to endeavour to find what those 
 quahties of our minds are, which appear to have a reference to 
 some future scene of existence, which by showing us that we 
 are intended for another and a better world, add the natural 
 evidence for immortality, to that which is derived from the 
 Christian revelation. 
 
 First. It must be observed, man in every stage of society, 
 civilized or savage, has universally behoved that he is to live 
 hereafter ; we have no sooner become acquainted with the 
 opinions of any new people, however barbarous their condi- 
 tion, however remote and insulated their situation, but we 
 immediately discover among them this sacred notion of a 
 second life ; discover it obscured by foolish inventions, dis- 
 graced by superstition ; but still discover it shining through 
 the dross and betraying its excellent nature. Why then has 
 the Almighty God, who in all other creations is acknowledged 
 to do nothing in vain, who could have pinioned down the 
 mind within any hmits, given it such a range, that its thoughts 
 reach up to an Heaven where it can never dwell? why is it 
 
ON THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 285 
 
 enabled to discover a God if that God is to doom it to annihi- 
 lation ? why has it the power to draw a never-ending scene 
 of happiness, if it has but a few wretched years to Hve. What 
 advantageth us, says the apostle, if the dead rise not at all ; 
 let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die ; but alas! the mind 
 of man is not so constituted; the death of to-morrow ruins the 
 appetite of to-day; the beast that perishes he only is pleased to 
 the last, and is never troubled with that futurity, by which he is 
 never to be blest ; believing that God exists, that God is our 
 maker, that God is just, we cannot believe that he has given 
 us minds capable of forming the notion of immortality, but un- 
 worthy of enjoying immortality itself ; therefore, this universal 
 belief in a future state, is one sign of change, one proof that 
 the soul is not now in its last stage of being, that the change 
 which it undergoes, is merely change and not destruction. 
 
 If we had been destined for this world alone, it is probable 
 we should have been contented with what this world affords ; 
 s the excellence we saw and felt, would have been the only 
 ^ excellence we could conceive ; but now man always imagines 
 something better than he sees ; no grandeur, and no beauty 
 which he beholds, are equal to the grandeur and the beauty 
 which he conceives ; something tells him this is human, that 
 elsewhere there are fairer and better things than these ; in 
 all times man has dehghted to draw a natural and moral 
 world after his own fancy; a land without storm and tempest; 
 a people without violence and injustice, living in perpetual 
 peace, and exercising unwearied benevolence. This discon- 
 tent of present things is made a part of man's nature, to 
 remind him that present things are not always to endure ; he 
 is swift to conceive better things, to inure him to that perfec- 
 tion, which must infinitely exceed even his imagination ; if 
 man is to live again, the object of such a provision is easy to 
 be comprehended, and worthy of Almighty wisdom ; but why 
 is it given, if all ends here ? why are we so keen to discern 
 the imperfections of this our first, and last, and only home ? a 
 being of this world has no need of it, it is a mark of futurity, 
 the forerunner of another world, the strong evidence of an 
 immortal being. 
 
 To exist in this world, seems to be the only purpose for 
 which the brute creation was intended ; they eat, and drink, 
 and perish ; nor does it appear that they have any superflu- 
 ous faculties, any portion of understanding greater than what 
 is necessary for the preservation of their brief existence ; if 
 
^i 
 
 288 ON TUE Immortality of the ^otL. 
 
 • 
 they have lived a few yeats, and given birth to other beings 
 like themseves, they appear to have done all that Providence 
 ever intended them to do ; if man, like these, had only talents 
 to gather his support, and defeat the hostile animals which 
 surrounded him, no hope of immortality could be gathered 
 from a condition like this ; man would be of the earth, earthy; 
 destined to hve in this world, with qualities fitted for this 
 world, and, to all appearance, limited to it; but in speaking of 
 the mind of man, we forget and we leap over all those facul- 
 ties, which are sufficient for the preservation of life ; we do 
 not wonder at man, because he is cunning in procuring his 
 food, but we are amazed with the variety, the superfluity, the 
 immensity of human talents ; we are astonished that he should 
 have found his way over the seas, and numbered the stars, 
 and called by its name every earth, and stone, and plant, and 
 creeping reptile, that the Almighty hath made ; we see him 
 gathered together in great cities, guided by laws, disciphned 
 by instruction, softened by fine arts, and sanctified by solemn 
 worship : we count over the pious spirit of the world, the 
 beautiful writers, the great statesmen, all who have invented 
 subtlety, who have thought deeply, who have executed wisely, 
 all these are proofs that we are destined for a second life ; it 
 is not possible to believe that this redundant vigour, this 
 lavish and excessive power was given for the mere gathering 
 of meat and drink : if the only object is present existence, 
 such faculties are cruel, are misplaced, are useless ; they all 
 show us that there is something great awaiting us, that the 
 soul is now young and infantine, springing up into a more 
 perfect life when the body falls into dust. 
 
 Then, why is it that there is always a progress from one 
 novelty to another ? why does happiness recede before us 
 as we advance ? why is man driven by the present moment 
 to a future, which, when it comes, still beckons him to a fu- 
 ture beyond ? In boyhood it is to be youth, in youth it is to 
 be manhood, in manhood it is to be old age ; but in youth 
 pleasure wearies, in manhood power fatigues, in old age sad- 
 ness and weakness oppress, — till man is wearied out by the 
 long delusion, and sees at last, if he would reach that happi- 
 ness he has so long pursued, he must follow it over the great 
 gulf across which Dives called to Lazarus for aid. 
 
 God would not have so framed the heart of man if that 
 heart is perishable and mortal ; it is not one God that has 
 made the invisible spirit, and another God that has made all 
 
ON THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 287 
 
 the objects we can see and touch ; but one Omnipotence and 
 one Omniscience has acted throughout, in forming the most 
 stupendous mind, and in completing the minutest insect. If 
 this incessant change be then the quahty of a soul which is 
 to suffer death ; if our desires can here find no resting place 
 and are not to exist anywhere but here, where is there besides 
 such an inconsistency in all the other works of God ? No 
 animal has wings that is not destined to fly ; every creature 
 that swims in the deep has all the organs and instruments 
 necessary for that kind of life ; when we look at the courage- 
 ous animals, we are well aware that they must live by their 
 courage ; of the timid we do not doubt but that they are to 
 owe their safety to their circumspection ; we always assign 
 to Providence a purpose; we cannot look upon a bodily organ 
 or witness a mental quality, without assigning to them a par- 
 ticular use; if the present use is not obvious, the creature is 
 to undergo some change that will justify the work of God, 
 and bring that organ or that quahty into action ; this half-living 
 reptile that is now crawling on the earth, will not end in this 
 state; those rudiments of wings will expand, and he will become 
 an inhabitant of air ; thus we reason of all nature, and thus 
 we should reason also of the soul of man ; this eternal change, 
 this sickness of present things, this appetite for the future, 
 these are the marks of the wings, and the signs of the great 
 flight ; this is not the world to which they belong, but they 
 are the instruments and the organs which enable us to detach 
 ourselves from thi^ world, and to spring up into greater purity 
 and freedom. 
 
 Of the other qualities of the mind, there is no one who 
 doubts ; the connection they have with this life cannot be 
 mistaken ; resentment is given us for protection ; fear for 
 preservation ; hope for comfort ; compassion for mutual aid ; 
 gratitude for the encouragement of benevolence, — all these 
 are present qualities ; some beautiful, some bad, but all cal- 
 culated for the present scene ; all bearing upon our immedi- 
 ate destiny, all connected with this world ; but the knowledge 
 of God and his attributes, the ungratified notions of excellence, 
 the impatience of present things, the unwearied appetite for 
 change ; the lavish, variety and splendour of the human 
 faculties ; all these things are not to be explained but by be- 
 lieving the soul to be immortal, or the God that made it to be 
 unjust. 
 
 There is one other, and an almost universal passion in 
 
288 ON THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 
 
 human nature, which appears to be planted in us to excite 
 and to cherish, the feeHng of the immortaHty of the soul ; the 
 desire of being remembered and honoured after death ; or, as 
 it is commonly denominated, the love of posthumous fame. — 
 All men feel it ; it would overwhelm any of us here present 
 with the deepest affliction to believe that we were utterly 
 forgotten when we ceased to live ; after rehgion the great 
 soother and comforter in death is, to beheve that we shall 
 survive in the memory of those whom we leave behind. If 
 this passion was a passion only of the rich and great, it might 
 proceed from a reluctance to quit those enjoyments which 
 are said by the son of Sirach to make death so terrible ; but 
 all men have it ; the poor wish to live in the memory of the 
 poor ; the wretched to be remembered even by the wretched ; 
 anything but to be forgotten and blotted out, than which there 
 is nothing more awful to the mind of man ; for what purpose 
 is it then, that our wishes shoot out beyond our endurance, 
 and that we have such an irresistible tendency to paint our- 
 selves as conscious of honour or of shame after the outward 
 and visible man has perished away ? This universal feeling . 
 ^1 was not given in mockery and derison of mankind ; he is , 
 surely not allowed for the sport of some higher order of 
 beings, to hope so strongly that which is impossible; this^ 
 peculiarity of his nature is not accidental; it was not over-, 
 looked in the structure of his mind, but it was placed there 
 with design, and placed there with benevolence ; with design, 
 because nothing in this world is done without design ; with be- 
 nevolence, because man wanted this glimpse of another life for 
 his happiness, and he wanted it for his elevation to give him 
 courage under all the evils of the world, and to whisper into 
 his inward soul that he only is unchangable amid vicissitude, 
 and imperishable amid decay. 
 
 It is a science not unworthy of time and attention to find 
 out what the qualities of our minds are, and for what pur- 
 poses they were intended ; but it is impossible in the prose- 
 cution of this study, not to perceive that the mind with all its 
 worldly attributes, has some qualities entirely destined for 
 futurity ; arranged for a totally separate order of things ; doing 
 within us the service of Heaven, and watching carefully over 
 the ark of God which every man carries in his heart ; there- 
 fore, do not answer me with saying all this perishes to the , 
 eye, it seems as if the soul was dead ; I reply with the holy 
 apostle, it is the great law of nature, that which thou sowest 
 
ON THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 289 
 
 is not quickened except it die ; and that which thou sowest, 
 thou sowest not that hody which shall he, but God giveth it 
 a body as it hath pleased him, and to every seed its own 
 body. 
 
 The season is now come when those changes to which the 
 apostle alludes begin to take place ; the sower has deposited 
 the seed in the ground, and to the outward eye it seems to 
 perish; yet, ere it be long, it will be green with life, and God 
 will give to every seed the body which hath pleased him ; 
 let it be our care then, to derive from the changes of nature, 
 a lesson of religious wisdom, and beholding the decay and 
 the resurrection of the outward world, to remember before it 
 is too late, that we also must die and rise again. 
 
 m 
 
SEEMON XLII. 
 
 ON THE TLEASURES OF OLD 
 AGE. 
 
 Though the outward man perish, the inward man is renewed day by day. 
 2d Book of Corinthians iv. verse 14. 
 
 There seems to be, upon a superficial view of human life, 
 a vast inequality in the advantages enjoyed at its different 
 periods ; all its joys and pleasures appear to be crowded into 
 the season of youth, and its last scenes to be given up to pain, 
 and to decay ; to be marked only by the dissolution of the 
 body, and the gloom of the mind. Sad, forsaken, unhappy, 
 are the epithets appropriated to old age ; to grow old stands 
 foremost upon the catalogue of human miseries, and sin itself 
 seems less terrible than that outward ruin which brings man 
 down to his native dust. 
 
 To correct, if I am able, these mistaken views, and to strive 
 against this mournful and degrading impression, I have cited 
 these words of the great apostle ; they show us that the real 
 glory may be greatest, when the visible glory is no more ; 
 that death and ruin may be without, and immortality within ; 
 that, though the outward man perish, the inward man may 
 be renewed day by day. 
 
 I will endeavour to explain what is meant by this renewal 
 of the inward man by stating what those feehngs of the mind 
 are, which St. Paul sets up in compensation of bodily decay, 
 and in what sense we may be said to be daily renewed, when 
 it is but too evident to the eye, that we are dwindling away to 
 another state of existence. The principal object I have in 
 view in this discourse, is to prove that Providence has been 
 bounteous to every period of life; that the pleasures of age 
 are greater, and the pains less, than we commonly suppose 
 
ON THE PLEASURES OF OLD AGE. 291 
 
 them to be ; and that, when old age is a state of affliction and 
 despair, it is not rendered so by a decaying body, but by a 
 sinful mind. 
 
 By the pleasures of old age are understood, of course, those 
 pleasures which may be attained by exertion ; for gratuitous 
 happiness is never conceded to man at any period of life ; but 
 in youth, in manhood, in old age is alike, and alone gained 
 by doing well, and by faith in Christ. 
 
 The first renewal of the inward man, the restoration of our 
 nature to what it was before its original transgression, is its 
 victory over the passions of youth. The eye fails, the hand 
 trembles, and the knee is unstrung ; but the happiness of man 
 does not depend only on the keenness of his sight, and the 
 vigour of his grasp ; it is not all health and strength ; there 
 is something Avhich palsy cannot reach, nor fever burn, nor 
 agony impair. The man whom you pity for his weakness, 
 would be loath perhaps, to change his infirmities for your 
 passions ; he would not be as young as you, to be disturbed 
 as you; he would not come again under the bondage of sin, 
 and be the slave of passion for all the happiness that youth, 
 and beauty, and strength could give ; he has calmed every 
 unholy tumult ; and put to rest every sinful emotion ; he 
 wishes only that which is righteous ; he thinks only that 
 which is good; he feels by day and by night a calm support- 
 ing confidence in God. Youth may flee away unheeded, if 
 old age bring with it such blessings as these. The outward 
 man may perish, when the inward man is thus renewed day 
 by day. 
 
 The pleasures of youth all fall under the cognizance of the 
 senses ; gayety is heard, and brilliancy is seen ; but the pas- 
 sionless tranquillity of old age is unnoticed by all but those 
 whom it blesses ; we call it unhappy because it has no clamor- 
 ous, and no visible joy ; forgetting that the emanation of 
 God's grace, the feeling of heaven, the strong hope of immor- 
 tality, are themselves deep and penetrating joys, which oc- 
 cupy the whole man, and keep his soul in dignity and peace. 
 
 Nor is this exemption from the tumults of sense, and the 
 agitations of sin, to be judged of, as if it were original apathy ; 
 but it is a tranquillity of which old age can fully ascertain 
 the value, from having experienced the contrary state. He, 
 whose decaying health is the only circumstance you notice, 
 has learnt in a long life to estimate aright the happiness of 
 age ; he has learnt that your ideas of pleasure are not the 
 
292 ON THE PLEASURES OF OLD AGE. 
 
 true ideas of pleasure ; he once obeyed feelings as impetuous 
 as yours ; he was the slave of anger, of jealousy, of pleasure, 
 as you are at this day. He has now conquered the passions 
 which he once served ; and pity him as you may, he feels 
 that the latter days of his life are better than the first ; that it 
 is more pleasant to walk with God in old age, than to sin in 
 all the flower and freshness of youth. 
 
 The memory of a well spent Hfe is a pleasure which may 
 always be reserved for old age, and can be enjoyed by old 
 age alone ; in manhood the race is only half run, the firmest 
 virtue may give way, and that fame may set in clouds which 
 rose in beauty, and shone with meridian splendour. But in 
 old age the hand is upon the goal, the destined spot is reached ; 
 nothing more is to come, and what is past the malice of fortune 
 cannot affect. Nor is this pleasure peculiar to old age, by 
 any means confined to men of illustrious talent and exalted 
 station ; the consciousness of integrity and honesty is as 
 sweet as the remembrance of the brightest actions ; the plea- 
 sant feeling, the true delight is to know when the part is 
 finished, that the part has been acted aright, that however in- 
 considerable our best exertions may be, they have still been 
 made; that we have a right to challenge the approbation of 
 men, and to ask for some little portion of the mercy of God. 
 
 The aged, in fact enjoy some of the privileges of the dead; 
 they experience that justice, which those who are actively en- 
 gaged on the theatre of the world so seldom receive ; envy for 
 them is dumb, the worst passions of the human heart are 
 softened by the signs of decaying nature, and men begin to 
 love that merit which they are so soon to enjoy no more. 
 
 The respect which an old man experiences, who has quitted 
 the world with honour, is sincere and affecting; he has been 
 well tried, and the degree of his virtues fairly established ; he 
 is now no man's rival, and all are left freely to indulge in the 
 admiration of excellence ; a man thus far gone in existence, 
 does not convert the homage of his fellow-creatures into 
 food for vanity, but takes it deeply to his heart as a probable 
 evidence that he has discharged his duties well, and that at 
 the last hour, he may find some favour with his God. In this 
 manner a good old man learns from the praises of the world 
 what he has been ; and the young, inflamed by the sight of 
 living excellence, love virtue and steadily pursue it. 
 
 There remain for an old man the pleasures of knowledge, 
 the result of all that he has gathered in a long and laborious 
 
ON THE PLEASURES OF OLD AGE. 293 
 
 life, and the liberal communication of that knowledge to others ; 
 wisdom and knowledge are the attributes of age ; and if the 
 young bow to the symbol of declining life, it is in a great 
 measure because they regard them also as the symbols of a 
 long-disciplined and wide-inquiring mind. 
 
 There remains to old age, to behold children acting an 
 honest and conspicuous part in the world ; carrying into ac- 
 tion those sound and moderate principles, which it has been 
 the object of parental care to inculcate ; and repaying to the 
 last days of the aged that kindness which guided their infant 
 life. Youth has its glories and pleasures, but they are not 
 the saddest days of human life, when a man wastes gradually 
 away, in the midst of his numerous and happy children ; 
 perishing, hke the patriarch, in a good old age, and blessing 
 his sons, the strength and hope of Israel. 
 
 But this it is, for which we deem old age miserable ; that 
 the pleasures of old age are not our pleasures : that the old 
 man cries out with Bazillai, " How long have I to live that I 
 should go up with the King to Jerusalem ? I am this day 
 four-score years old ; can I discern between good and evil : 
 can thy servant taste what I eat ? and what I drink ? Can I 
 hear any more the voice of singing men, and singing women ? 
 Let thy servant, I pray thee, turn back, that I may die in 
 mine own city, and be buried in the grave of my father, and 
 of my mother ?" It is this, the tasteless meats, the deafness 
 to the singing man and the singing woman, the apathy to 
 common pleasures, for which old age is pitied and deplored. 
 But this is God's mercy, it is not his vengeance ; he deadens 
 the keenness of our bodily senses only to guide us to immor- 
 tality; we are disgusted with the pleasures of youth ; we de- 
 ride the objects of manly ambition ; we are wearied with one 
 worldly trifle or another, that our thoughts may centre at last 
 in God ; if I saw old age still hovering after the amusements 
 of youth, I should indeed pity it, but this oblivion of our trifles, 
 is the genuine sign that the great change is coming. This 
 loathing of the world shows us, that the renewal of the inward 
 man has begun; that the first state will soon end; that the 
 wings are now forming for the last and great flight ; and that 
 we are casting off" the appetites and passions of this world, 
 only because we are about for ever to abandon it. 
 
 Another evil that our imaginations are apt to connect with 
 old age, is pain ; but it is not the natural and inevitable con- 
 dition of human life, that it should close in pain ; a youth of 
 
 25* 
 
294 ON THE PLEASURES OF OLD AGE. 
 
 intemperance, is crowned with an old age of bodily suffering-; 
 there is no wretchedness of mind or body, which we may not 
 prepare for old age : but the accidental consequences of our 
 sins, are not to be considered as the regular conditions of our 
 nature ; there is a gradual bowing down to the grave ; a 
 gentle departure from this hfe ; a peaceful separation of the 
 soul from the body ; which is the real destiny of man, when 
 he has lead that hfe which his Almighty Creator intended 
 him to lead. 
 
 In fact, the old age which has raised aU this terror, is the 
 old age of sin, not the old age of piety ; it is the spectacle of 
 young and ungoverned passions, in a perishing body ; of a 
 man giving up the world by his trembling limbs, giving it up 
 by his wasting strength, and cHnging to it with all the appe- 
 tites of his heart ; a man marked deeply by time, and out- 
 wardly fitted for Heaven, within all preparations for this life, 
 and with thoughts busied about the mortal pleasures of sin ; 
 to such a man, old age is indeed terrible, for it is a mark of 
 the coming vengeance of God, the pains and evils of the 
 body are to him signs that his eternal punishment is near at 
 hand ; that he is standing in the threshold to the place of 
 torment. I am not endeavouring to prove that this old age is 
 not terrible. It is, indeed, the greatest of human terrors ; and 
 though the threescore and ten years may first pass away, yet 
 the knowledge that it must come at last, shoots across the 
 horizon of life, and mingles the terror of God with the early 
 pleasures of youth. 
 
 If it is the mere contiguity to death, which makes old age 
 so terrible, find out, if you can, the man who would spend 
 his hfe over again. If your life has not been notoriously 
 wicked, so that death becomes to you the greatest of all evils, 
 put this question to your own heart. You shall be replaced 
 in earliest infancy, you shall enjoy all the happiness which 
 is said to be the privilege of that favoured period ; you shall 
 re-taste again, all the tumultuous pleasures of youth ; you 
 shall play over again the game of ambition. If all this were 
 offered, all this would be rejected ; your disposition would be, 
 to go on with the portion of life which remained ; to pass 
 over to something you did not know, in the hope of finding it 
 better ; not to return to that, with the value of which you 
 were already acquainted. Why then is the proximity to 
 death so terrible, if the possession of life is so little valuable ? 
 Why fear to die, if we do not wish to five ? Death viewed 
 
ON THE PLEASURES OF OLD AGE. 295 
 
 at a distance by one unprepared for it, from having lived long, 
 is terrible ; but the natural feeling of the mind, in extreme old 
 age, is to wish for death ; to ask it of God as a boon, to speak 
 of it as a release, and to ardently desire what, in the begin- 
 ning of life, is considered as the greatest of all evils. " As 
 the hart panteth for the water brooks, — even so longeth my 
 soul for thee, oh God." 
 
 It is in truth, this very proximity to death, which in a 
 rightly-constituted and Christian mind, gives sometimes to old 
 age a superiority over all human conditions, because it brings 
 with it a feehng which we find to be that which we have 
 been seeking for throughout the whole of existence. The 
 feeling which this near approach to God inspires, is that 
 perfect happiness which I sought for, in pleasure, in power, in 
 riches, in earthly affections, in meditation, and in knowledge. 
 But there was bitterness in my pleasure, — power, and wealth 
 became familiar to me ; in my earthly affections I was 
 deceived ; my knowledge was pain and doubt. I have 
 found, in my old age, an happiness which fills my heart, and 
 satisfies my reason ; I see, now, why all the pleasures of the 
 earth have palled upon me, and the lawful object for which 
 my desires were reserved. Every remembrance of my 
 decaying body brings me nearer to God ; every earthly wish 
 is extinguished ; every injury forgiven ; every passion sleeps: 
 as the outward man perishes, the inward man lives in Christ, 
 and is renewed day by day. 
 
^t^^m^-i^^mm^m^'^-^^':- 
 
 SERMON XLIII. 
 
 ON THE EFFECTS WHICH THE TUMUL- 
 TUOUS LIFE, PAST IN GREAT CITIES, 
 PRODUCES UPON THE MORAL AND 
 RELIGIOUS CHARACTER. 
 
 And Jesus went out, and departed into a solitary place, and there prayed. — 
 MaHK I. VERSE 35. 
 
 There are many passages in the New Testament, which 
 evince the love of solitude to have been a feeling very fre- 
 quent in the mind of our Saviour ; his business was with the 
 world, but it pleased him to retire from it ; and upon the shore 
 of the sea, upon the mountain, in the wilderness, surrounded 
 by the works of God, to restore, and sanctify his nature with 
 prayer. What Jesus did, we ought to do also ; to retire for 
 the purposes of religion ; often to quit the world, that we may 
 acquaint ourselves with God, and learn what the state of that 
 soul is, upon which everlasting joy and sorrow depend. 
 
 As it falls to my lot to address th^se whose lives are past 
 in this greatest of cities, the most stupendous collection of 
 civihzed men that the earth has ever contained, or the mind 
 contemplated, under such circumstances, I have thought it 
 right to expatiate upon the duty of occasional solitude, and to 
 state those effects, which the habits of great cities must 
 necessarily produce upon the moral and religious character. 
 It is right to show men, that this never-ending, uninterrupted 
 commerce with the world, darkens the evangelical light ; 
 erases the name of God ; stifles the breath of prayer ; closes 
 the hand of charity ; degrades the aspiring look of man, and 
 fixes it upon the earth. 
 
 Nothing can be farther from my intention, than to praise, 
 
ON THE EFFECT WHICH A LIFE, <Sx3. 297 
 
 or recommend a life of solitude, which is, perhaps, rather 
 more injurious than a life of uninterrupted society. I speak 
 only of occasional retirement, and contend only against 
 incessant commerce with the world ; that those who can 
 escape from a life of tumult may do it, and those who can- 
 not, by knowing, and fearing them, may guard against its ill 
 effects. 
 
 It happens in great cities that men are too busy to be reli- 
 gious ; whatever regulates the fate of empires, promotes the 
 public happiness, or enlarges the boundaries of knowledge, 
 originates in great cities; there it is best discussed, and most 
 maturely perfected. Whatever is wonderful in nature, or 
 curious in art, whatever human kind has of wit, o* wisdom, 
 of eloquence, beauty or genius, is crowded into great cities ; 
 all the marvels, scattered elsewhere sparingly over the face 
 of the earth, are there collected into a single point; every fasci- 
 nation is spread out for the senses ; not to sin is difficult ; not 
 to trifle impossible ; these, then, are the reasons why the soli- 
 tary place of prayer is valuable; why it is necessary to breathe, 
 to pause, to be silent ; to remember that there is a day of 
 judgment, and an hour of death. 
 
 It is not favourable to religious feeling to hear only of the 
 actions and interference of men, and to behold nothing but 
 what human ingenuity has completed. There is an image of 
 God's greatness, impressed upon the outward face of nature, 
 which makes us all pious, and breathes into our hearts a 
 purifying and wholesome fear. Perhaps God so constructed 
 the outward world, as to remind man of his existence and of 
 his power ; it is not in vain that the hills are high, the streams 
 rapid, and the forests deep ; they touch the sensual heart of 
 man, and rouse his torpid understanding to discover who made 
 these wonders and who rules them. The very rocks are his 
 scripture ; and the mountains teaching him, appal him with 
 the power of God. These things have neither speech nor 
 language, but their voices are heard among men. Their 
 sound is gone out unto all lands, and their words unto the 
 ends of the world. 
 
 Nor is the spectacle of active nature less favourable to the 
 cultivation of rehgious feeling than the contemplation of its 
 passive scenes; every bird and every animal has its habits of 
 life independent of man ; it has a sagacity which man never 
 taught ; and propensities which man could not inspire. The 
 growth of all the plants, and fruits of the earth, depend upon 
 laws, over which man has no control ; out of great cities, 
 
298 ON THE EFFECT WHICH A LIFE, PAST IN GREAT 
 
 there is everywhere around and about us, a vast system going 
 on utterly independent of human wisdom and human inter- 
 ference ; and man learns there the great lesson of his imbe- 
 ciUty and dependence ; not by that reflection, to which supe- 
 rior minds alone can attain, but by those daily impressions 
 upon his senses, which make the lesson more universal and 
 more certain. But here everything is man and man alone ; 
 kings and senates command us ; we talk of their decrees and 
 look up to their pleasure ; they seem to move and govern all, 
 and to be the providence of cities ; in this seat of govern- 
 ment, placed under the shadow of those who make the laws, 
 we do not render unto Csesar the things which are Caesar's, 
 and unto God the things which are God's, but God is forgotten 
 and Csesar is supreme; all is human policy, human foresight, 
 human power ; nothing reminds us of invisible dominion, 
 and concealed Omnipotence ; we do nothing but what man 
 bids ; we see nothing but what man creates ; we mingle with 
 nothing but what man commands ; it is all earth and no 
 heaven. 
 
 The weakness and helplessness of man, is one cause of his 
 dependence upon a being greater and wiser than himself. It 
 is not, I am afraid, in the season of youth and health, and in 
 the possession of affluence, that we are most mindful of our 
 religious duties ; the lesson which all ought to learn from 
 principle, is often taught by poverty, sickness, and old age, 
 and we are then most willing to rest upon a superior power; 
 when we learn from experience the moral and physical evils 
 by which we are surrounded, and the confined powers of our 
 nature by which those evils are to be repelled. This lesson, 
 however, is more slowly learnt in great cities, than elsewhere, 
 because there the strongest combination is formed against the 
 accidents of life. It is there that every evil, which can ha- 
 rass humanity, is guarded against by the most consummate 
 experience, and rectified with the most perfect skill ; what- 
 ever man has discovered to better his condition, is there to be 
 found ; and the whole force of human genius called to the aid 
 of each individual, gradually diminishes that conviction of 
 human imbeciHty which is one cause of religious feeling. 
 
 Where the society in which we move, is not of a magni- 
 tude that is enormous, a very wholesome restraint is produced 
 by public opinion ; every action of each individual is known ; 
 and the fear of disgrace and reprehension comes in aid of the 
 dictates of religion. But in the midst of such multitudes as 
 these, life would not suffice for such minuteness of inquisi- 
 
CITIES, PRODUCES ON THE RELIGIOUS CHARACTER. 299 
 
 tion ; every man walks in darkness ; and his actions are as 
 invisible to his fellow-creatures as if his days were past in 
 the bosom of the desert. There is little question here of 
 good and evil, of virtue and vice ; whatever amuses is virtue, 
 whatever tires is vice ; in a moderate state of society, where 
 full light is thrown upon every man's life, the good father, 
 the just neighbour, the steady and affectionate friend, take 
 the rank in public estimation, to which their excellent quali- 
 ties entitle them ; prudence, veracity, charity ; a class of vir- 
 tues are required and honoured, which, though unimportant 
 to a superficial intercourse, are indispensable to long and 
 intimate communication ; so that many virtues are thus learnt 
 from a regard to character, which are afterwards preserved 
 from the love of God ; enhghtened by his holy Gospel, and 
 confirmed by his grace ; but so light and superficial are the 
 relations among human creatures in great cities, so easily 
 are the connections of society created and dissolved ; and so 
 numerous are those connections themselves, that you ask 
 only for something that pleases for the moment ; for birth, for 
 wealth, for manner, for gayety, for the qualities and virtues 
 of an hour ; compatible, and often coexisting with every sin, 
 abhorrent from the law of God and injurious to the happiness 
 of man. Therefore, here are reasons why we should go into 
 solitary places, and pray ; because in the tumult of life, the 
 man who can please for the passing hour, is better and greater 
 than him who has difficult and unsplendid virtues ; because 
 goodness is not known, is not asked for, is not wanted : be- 
 cause a man can do as well without righteousness as he can 
 with it ; because he who forgets the Creator, and injures the 
 creature, is as much loved and honoured as the just. Let 
 any man ask the question of his own mind, if he has enjoyed 
 the opportunity of comparing a life of moderate solitude with 
 the distractions of a great city, where has he forgotten Christ, 
 and benefactor, and kindred, and friend ? where is it that he 
 has found his benevolent feelings swallowed up in selfish 
 vanity? where has he lived hating and blaming himself? The 
 cure of all these things is the prayer and the solitary place ; 
 that calmness and stillness of spirits, in which no uncharita- 
 bleness can live, and in which the soul of man is carried on- 
 ward to futurity, and upwards to God. As the body, harassed 
 with the noxious air of cities, seeks relief in the freedom and 
 purity of the fields, the mind, wearied by commerce with 
 men, resumes its vigour in solitude, and repairs its dignity. 
 
300 ON THE EFFECT WHICH A lIFE, &C. 
 
 We must not suppose that righteousness depends upon our 
 exertions alone, and not upon the situations in which we are ' 
 placed ; the love of Christ is so strong in some men's hearts, 
 that neither heights, nor depths, nor principalities, nor powers 
 can avail to destroy it. But the greater part of us are what 
 the circumstances in which we are placed incline to make 
 us ; in solitude, thinking sometimes of what man is, and of 
 the God that made him ; in the world, acting and thinking as 
 the world do act and think, neglecting no pleasure, avoiding 
 no display, avoiding only our own souls, and deaf to those 
 warnings, which are the whispers of Heaven and the calls to 
 salvation. 
 
 It is indeed possible that an human being may pass a long 
 life in the midst of society, without getting one distinct view 
 of his religious character, and may wait till the pains of death 
 make him look back and tremble ; his sorrows have all been 
 dissipated; his compunctions smothered; his old age forgotten; 
 his object has been to blunt all those feelings which lead to 
 salvation ; to heal instantly every warning pain, which might 
 make him change ; to avail himself of all the diversions be- 
 fore him ; to forget unpleasant duties ; and then, after three- 
 score and ten years of voluptuous oblivion, he wakes to the 
 judgments of God. 
 
 In saying these things I am well aware that the necessities 
 of human life do not allow to us all to place ourselves in 
 situations where the object of a rational and moderate inter- 
 course with our fellow-creatures may be best promoted. Some 
 are compelled by the accidents of the world, to mingle more 
 with their fellow-creatures, some less ; but it is the indispensa^ 
 ble duty of all who cannot avoid scenes of tumult and per- 
 petual occupation, to remember that tendency which such 
 scenes have to harden the heart, and to make man forget his 
 Redeemer and his God ; it is their duty ever to call to mind, 
 that all these works of men with which they are conversant, 
 are but in fact, the works of him who made man ; and in the 
 midst of all the business, the pleasure, and the wonder which 
 surround them, they must not forget the hour of death, the day 
 of judgment, and the being which punishes and rewards ; 
 and let them, as often as can be, depart into the solitary place 
 and pray that they remain unspotted from the world ; that 
 they be ever mindful of the insignificance of those scenes in 
 which they are engaged; labouring iu their worldly vocation 
 with hearts firmly fixed upon the salvation of Christ. 
 
^!3*>^: 
 
 
 SEKMON XLIV. 
 
 ON THE CHARACTER AND GENIUS 
 OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 
 
 Our consolation abojindeth by Christ. — 2d Epistle to the Corinthians i. 
 
 VERSE 5. 
 
 As we are now celebrating the Nativity of our blessed 
 Saviour, and giving loose to those feelings of joy which arise 
 from such a stupendous instance of God's mercy, we can 
 surely do nothing better than to take some measure and 
 account of what that advantage is we have received; and 
 to examine upon what grounds of reason our gratitude is 
 indulged. 
 
 In laying before you for this purpose, a short analysis of 
 the genius and nature of Christianity, I shall begin with its 
 negative excellencies, because these are what would first 
 strike the mind of any reflecting man who had remarked the 
 glaring absurdities and deficiencies of those religions which 
 rival Christianity only in the number of their proselytes. 
 
 First, the genius of the Gospel is to discourage the pomps 
 and ceremonies of worship, in which all spurious and barba- 
 rous religions are apt to indulge ; it attaches no importance 
 to outward trifles ; the forms which it exacts are few, and in- 
 stituted for the only purpose for which forms ought ever to 
 be instituted, to awaken the attention to realities. 
 
 It is, perhaps, to the simplicity of the Christian faith, more 
 than to any other cause, that Europe is indebted for its supe- 
 riority over the rest of the world, for its industry, its science, 
 and its comparative freedom. In the Christian world, every 
 year increases the boundaries of human knowledge, and 
 multiplies the instruments of human happiness. Man seems 
 to be making that progress which his Creator intended he 
 should make. In the Pagan world this year is the same as 
 the last, the same as centuries before it ; a childish, and com- 
 26 
 
802 ON THE CHARACTER AND GENIUS 
 
 plex faith ; interferes with every trifling arrangement of life ; 
 and so destroys all freedom of choice, and besets existence 
 with so many frivolous rules, that the originaHty of man is 
 totally destroyed ; and every branch that he would push forth 
 into the air with natural strength and beauty, is bent into the 
 forms of art. I only mean to oifer these last observations as 
 a negative proof of the genuineness of Christianity, inasmuch 
 as it shows the absence of a defect, for which all other widely- 
 extended religions are remarkable, and certainly, in the minds 
 of grave men, ought to excite veneration for the Gospel. 
 
 The Gospel is not a religion of fables and mythology, cal- 
 culated for the infantine simplicity of savages. It holds forth 
 no bribe to the senses : and not only does not ask their aid, 
 but hmits their gratifications within the narrowest limits of 
 virtue. It is as far removed from austerity as from sensu- 
 ality, for one of these two is commonly a feature in alJ spurious 
 religions ; either God is represented as bribing his votaries 
 by bodily pleasures, or his votaries are enjoined to appease 
 him by bodily pains ; the Creator is cruel, or the creature 
 voluptuous ; these two features carry with them such strong 
 marks of vulgar imposture, that a man of discretion may at 
 once condemn as spurious every religion in which they are 
 observable ; the Christian faith throws a veil over these scenes 
 and puts an end for ever to vain curiosity, by telhng us that the 
 eye has never se^n such things as we shall hereafter see, that 
 the ear has not heard them, nor has the heart thought them. 
 
 The Gospel has no enthusiasm; it pursues always the 
 same calm tenour of language, and the same practical views 
 in what it enjoins ; nor does it ever in any way connect itself 
 with questions of civil and ecclesiastical policy. These errors 
 do not exist in the Gospel, and they do exist in all other reli- 
 gions but the Gospel ; there is no other faith which is not 
 degraded by its ceremonies, its fables, its sensuality, or its vio- 
 lence ; the Gospel only is rational, simple, correct, and mild. 
 
 The Gospel contains a set of rules every one of which 
 appears eminently calculated to promote our happiness ; 
 among the foremost of these rules is poorness of spirit, by 
 which is meant a mind habitually void of offence, a favoura- 
 ble construction of men's motives, a connivance at little inju- 
 ries and insults ; moderation in resenting, and readiness in 
 forgiving those of a more serious nature ; a retiring, modest, 
 and gentle disposition. Now it is plain, if such were the 
 prevaihng spirit among men, that the earth would be a far 
 different scene from what it now is ; to see what the magni- 
 
OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGIOX. 303 
 
 tude of that good is which Christianity aims at conferring by 
 this rule, it is necessary to remark the effects this rule pro- 
 duces where it is obeyed, the happiness which a gentle, and 
 amiable man diffuses around him, the air of benevolence and 
 content visible in those who live within his influence, and 
 who seem to be breathing a purer atmosphere, and living in 
 some land of Goshen, unsmitten by the hail, and unvexed by 
 the storm. The opposite character which the Scriptures 
 labour to correct, is the heroic character, the inordinate love 
 of glory and power ; and no man can for a moment doubt 
 which of these two characters he would wish to see prevail, 
 which carries misery in its train, which joy, which desolates 
 the earth, and which gladdens it. 
 
 Another great feature of the morality of the Gospel is that 
 sublime jurisdiction which it exercises over the thoughts, 
 beginning with the rudiments of all action, and making the 
 life correct by rendering the heart pure ; a rule so far removed 
 from severity, that it diminishes the difficulty of virtue ; for 
 of a certainty it is a much lighter command to say to men, 
 your thoughts and your actions shall be one, you shall intend 
 good and do good, than to say, you shall indulge in every 
 licentious imagination, and abstain from every evil act ; you 
 shall prepare yourself for the commission of every sin, in order 
 to practice every virtue. 
 
 The Gospel makes one great commuj3t^y of us all, and 
 while it cherishes the more confined affections of family love, 
 does not forget to inculcate an affection for the whole species, 
 as a great and indispensable duty ; while it makes good hus- 
 bands, good fathers, and good sons, it kindles in the bosoms 
 of the faithful that warm philanthropy which watches for, 
 and employs every occasion to promote, the happiness of the 
 whole human race. 
 
 The Grospel detaches us from the world, that is, it does not 
 allow the affections to take a deeper root in the world than is 
 necessary for that period which limits their existence ; it pre- 
 vents men from hoping and fearing in a life of seventy years, 
 as they would hope and fear in a life of many thousand ; its 
 prohibitions do not abohsh those feelings which stimulate 
 human industry, but proportion the vehemence of the appetite 
 to the real value of the thing desired ; they moderate the pains 
 of disappointment and the zeal of contention, by reminding us 
 that this is but a small part of existence, and that it is foolish 
 to attach as much importance to it as if it were the whole. 
 
 The Gospel exacts forgiveness of injuries, and grants for- 
 
304 ON THE CHARACTER AND GENIUS 
 
 giveness of sins upon these terms ; it allows no rest or resi- 
 dence to the malevolent passions, but requires a mind without 
 the spot or blemish of hatred ; it loves repentance, the sighing 
 of a contrite heart, and the desire of such as be sorrowful ; 
 and requires, in all the dangers and distresses of the world, 
 an undoubting confidence in God. 
 
 What is of equal value with such precepts, these books 
 contain the life of Christ, of a being who, amid the verbal 
 disputes and idle ceremonies of an illiberal people, taught his 
 countrymen that the only useful knowledge was the know- 
 ledge of God's will, and the only true religion to do it ; who 
 lived a life so blameless that the very murderers who slew 
 him for destroying their superstition, dared not breathe against 
 his unpolluted name the murmur of a crime ; who at every 
 season, without intermission, when he dared, in the midst of 
 cities, when he was compelled in the midst of deserts, poured 
 forth his immortal precepts of goodness and wisdom, that he 
 might make the earth gentle, and fill it with the spirit of 
 charity. Such is the Gospel, such the benefits for which, in 
 the ensuing nativity of our Saviour, we are about to return 
 thanks to Almighty God; it is a religion without pomp, and 
 which does not meddle with every little frivolous arrangement 
 of our daily business. It is neither austere, nor fabulous, nor 
 sensual, nor enthusiastic, nor political, nor warlike ; there is 
 one first principl^ervades every syllable of its moral regula- 
 tions, and that is^fte principle of promoting human happi- 
 ness ; for why are we to forgive, but that the tendency of 
 human passions is in the contrary direction ? why are we to 
 hang loosely upon the world, and not to cling to it, but be- 
 cause we should be the most wretched of created beings, if 
 we loved that, with the vehemence of eternal passion, which 
 we are not sure to enjoy for a single hour ? why are we to 
 subdue high-mindedness, and to become poor in spirit, but 
 because loftiness of spirit has so often bathed the world in 
 blood, and shaken the foundations of human happiness ? in 
 short, there is not in the Gospel a single precept, which has 
 not a direct tendency to make the wodd all that we find it to 
 be in some of its parts, and to refine every human being into 
 that gentleness of character, which delights us so much, in 
 those best of human beings, who have spent their lives in 
 the exertions of kindness, and in the subjugation of passion j 
 add to this, the importance of the motives by which it ope-, 
 rates, and the perfect example which it contains, and you 
 have a summary of the Gospel. 
 
OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 305 
 
 To conclude, if any man should think fit to inquire what 
 the Gospel has done for us, and in what way the condition, 
 of man is meliorated by it ? the answer is, that no man with 
 an ordinary share of candour, and with ordinary talents for 
 observation, can doubt of the extensive and beneficial effects 
 of the Gospel ; not a day passes, but the violence of resent- 
 ment is mitigated by it ; it extinguishes a thousand hatreds ; 
 reconciles long-separated friends, and not only reconciles, but 
 by teaching a spirit of charity, prevents those animosities 
 which render reconciliation necessary. Christianity has 
 infused such an amiable temper into this country, that nothing 
 is so shamed or discountenanced as a resentment excessive 
 in its effects, or implacable in its duration. Will any one 
 say, that many minds are not daily fortified against temptation 
 by the Gospel? that the train of inward thoughts is not 
 purified by it? that many unhappy persons are not daily 
 supported by the Gospel in pain, in obscurity, in poverty, in 
 old age, in loss of kindred, in the hour of death ? will kny 
 man say that the hungry are not fed by the Gospel ? that the 
 sick are not healed by it? in short, there is no question which 
 may not be iitigiously, or captiously put ; but I confess I 
 should be beyond measure surprised to find, that any man of 
 real candour and intelligence, could for a moment doubt of 
 the temporal effects of Christianity ; that he could suffer him- 
 self really to ask, whether the most benevolent precepts, 
 enforced by the highest motives, and believed by the greatest 
 part of the world, to be revealed by God, can produce any 
 beneficial effects upon the tempers and dispositions of men ; 
 that Christianity has elevated our nature to that immaculate 
 perfection which it describes, is of course not true, nor ap- 
 proaching to the truth ; for the heart of man, as the Psalmist 
 says, is desperately wicked; but if there was removed from that 
 heart, all that the Gospel has planted in it; if all the charity, 
 the candour, the gentleness, the faith, and the holy hope were 
 driven from the world, which the Gospel has brought into it, 
 I am sure I know not who would choose to remain behind ; 
 we should then see what man is by himself, and what man 
 is taught by his Maker ; and when every bad passion was 
 let loose, and the earth was one scene of horror and crime, 
 we should then know what Revelation hath done for human 
 happiness, and feel th^t our consolation aboundeth only 
 through Christ. 
 
 .^6* 
 
# ' '^z^^W^^i^^^^^^^^''^--^' 
 
 SERMON XLV. 
 FOR THE SCOTCH LYING-IN HOSPITAL. 
 
 I have heard a voice as of a w^oman in travail, and the anguish as of her 
 that bringeth forth her child. — Jekiimiah iv. vebse 31. 
 
 To listen to that voice which the prophet in imagination 
 heard, to diminish a real anguish, which he only witnessed 
 with the eye of fancy ; to minister to the weariness of heart, 
 to the wailing and spreading of hands, and to lift from the 
 ground many a living being that crieth out, woe is me, my 
 soul is weary; to do what Jesus Christ did, to act as he com- 
 manded, and to labour in the work of salvation and love, for 
 these objects we are met here this night ;* for a moment the 
 business of the world is forgotten ; the aged are thoughtless 
 of their infirmities ; the gay of their pleasures; the busy of 
 their toils ; the church has told you, that there is great af- 
 fliction in the land, and ye have entered into this holy place 
 to minister unto it. May God bless this purpose, may he 
 breathe into you the soul of sanctity, and for the mercies of 
 the present hour, forget the sins that are past, and lessen the 
 sorrows that are to come. 
 
 The sun is now fallen in the heavens, and the habitations 
 of men are shaded in gross darkness. That sun is hastening 
 onwards to other cHmates, to carry to all tongues, and people, 
 and nations the splendour of day. What scenes of mad 
 ambition and of bleeding war will it witness in its course. 
 What cruel stripes ; what iron bondage of the human race ; 
 what debasing superstition ; what foul passions ; what thick 
 and dismal ignorance ! It will beam upon the savage and 
 sensual Moor; it will lighten the robber of Arabia to his 
 
 * This Sermon was preached in the night, as is the custom with Charity 
 Sermons in Scotland, 
 
FOR THE SCOTCH LYING-IN HOSPITAL. 307 
 
 prey ; it will glitter on the chains of the poor negro. It 
 will waken the Indian of the ocean to eat the heart of his 
 captive. The bigot Turk will hail it from the summit of 
 his mosque ; it will guide the Brahmin to his wooden gods ; 
 but in all its course it will witness perhaps no other specta- 
 cle of a free, rational people, gathered together under the 
 influence of Revelation, to lighten the load of human misery, 
 and to give of their possessions to the afflicted, and the poor. 
 There is so much evil mixed with all human attempts at 
 improvement, and we are driven so frequently to sacrifice 
 one good to obtain a greater, that hardly any scheme has 
 been proposed for promoting human comfort, which has not 
 experienced, in its infancy, a strenuous opposition ; as often 
 as such opposition, proceeding from a mistaken calculation of 
 good and evil, is conducted with temper and moderation, it 
 deserves gentle treatment, and though it should be refuted, it 
 should also be respected. The best answer that can be given 
 to the very well-disposed people, who view with jealousy 
 the institutipn of a Lying-in hospital, is their general esta- 
 blishment throughout the whole of Europe. On the conti- 
 nent, as I have just now stated, there is hardly a great city 
 without them, and in London they are twelve in number; in 
 one of these only, I perceive by the printed accounts of the 
 year 1789, that twenty thousand women have been received 
 since its first institution ; I observe, also, there is hardly a 
 dignitary of the English Church, who has not preached in their 
 favour, and the crowd of respectable names of either sex, 
 who have contributed to their support, is admirable and im- 
 mense. Much as I love and respect that jealousy of religious 
 men in this country which watches over the purity of morals 
 with parental caution, t would remind them, that the love of 
 virtue is not confined to this, or to any other country ; that 
 there are men in the metropolis of this island, as unimpeached 
 in their moral and religious character, as jealous of public 
 corruption, and as able to foresee consequences, who after an 
 experience of half a century, continue to uphold these charities 
 with the most Christian zeal, and to sacrifice to their welfare 
 a very large portion of their time and attention. The rea- 
 sonings which influence the opponents to this hospital, might 
 have been more efficacious, if such an institution were new ; ■ 
 but you are not requested to try an experiment, or to set an 
 example of Christian charity ; you have the incitement of 
 other men's actions, and the benefit of their courage ; the 
 
308 FOR THE SCOTCH LYING-IN HOSPITAL. 
 
 danger which you suspect has been proved not to exist, and 
 the blessings they have scattered you may diffuse ; theirs 
 vsras the vigour which strikes out original plans ; yours the 
 benevolence which pursues them when crowned with suc- 
 cess ; the path to them was perilous, to you it is safe ; all 
 rational opposition has been for ever silenced, by the irre- 
 sistible reasoning of facts ; to the reasoning of ignorance 
 and passion, we can only oppose the feeling of silent com- 
 passion. 
 
 The branch of political economy with which Christianity 
 is the most concerned, is the provision for the support and 
 comfort of the poor, — for the first systematic work on political 
 economy all Europe is indebted to this country, indeed I be- 
 lieve to this city. Let it not be said that those were the last 
 to practice, who were the first to teach ; that magnificent 
 views and mistaken objections can originate in the same seat 
 of learning ; that you are enlightened in everything but your 
 practice ; and that you exemplify the errors which you 
 refute. 
 
 If old age, if the orphan state, if madness, have ail their 
 separate establishments, abounding in comforts, regulated 
 with care, and endowed even to opulence, why are poor un- 
 happy women to be abandoned at a season when they are 
 just objects of the tenderest compassion? If we diffuse the 
 blessings of education from public funds ; if we minister to 
 the sharp anguish of wounds and fractures ; if we fan the 
 feverish blood; if we refresh the languishing body with wine ; 
 why are we to desert the gentle mother when she craves a 
 morsel of food which she cannot then gain for herself? Why is 
 charity cold, why is science mute for her alone ? Why nurse 
 we the tree and leave the seed to perish ? Why multiply the 
 comforts of man in his maturity, and provide for his necessi- 
 ties, while we leave his infant body to the winds, and engrave 
 upon his printless heart, in the first morning of life, the feel- 
 ings of pain ? 
 
 Independent of all charitable notions, as an appendage and 
 a very important one to a school of medicine, this charity 
 deserves your notice and protection, — the Scotch are said to 
 love their country with the warmest affection ; I have lived 
 long enough among them to see that that love is well be- 
 stowed. In some it is a blind impulse, but those who know 
 the reasons on which their predilection rests, will be proud to 
 see the principles of the healing art diffusing themselves from 
 
FOR THE SCOTCH LYING-IN HOSPITAL. 309 
 
 their native land over the four quarters of the globe, — to reflect 
 that even in the heart of India, or in the wilds of America, the 
 science imbibed in this place, may soothe pain, strengthen 
 weakness, and drive out the raging pestilence that stalketh 
 among the habitations of men. It is of the utmost consequence 
 that the reputation of your noble and incomparable school of 
 medicine should be consulted by the encouragement of this 
 hospital. If there be present in this church any of the chief 
 men of this country; respectable from their rank, their years, 
 their offices, and their talents ; by whose advice the powers 
 which govern would be influenced, and by whose authority the 
 people are willingly swayed; — I ask them, if they can see with- 
 out serious regret, such a rational charity as this abandoned 
 from want of support ? if they could hear without a pang, 
 that this consecrated ground was sold ? if they could see un- 
 moved, other edifices erected on that spot where the wife of 
 the poor man found shelter for her sick body, and her helpless 
 child ? If there are any circumstances which induce a man 
 to look out of the circle of his own family and friends to the 
 wider interests of humanity; if in that best school of all the 
 virtues, you have learned to forget yourselves, to joy and 
 suffer in the souls of others ; if you are happy enough to 
 know that warm social affections, guided by reason to their 
 object, constitute the noblest work of Heaven; come forth and 
 save this charity from destruction : statues and speaking in- 
 scriptions, the broken accents of children, the bursting hearts 
 of mothers, the smiles of angels, the Son of God shall bless 
 you. 
 
 I know very well that there are many men who imagine, 
 that this department of medicine is unworthy the name of 
 science ; and, that while all other branches have been rescued 
 from the hands of uneducated people, where they were all 
 originally placed, this should still be retarded by ignorance, 
 and disgraced by hypothesis. — The dignity of science is 
 compounded of its difficulty and its utihty; if mothers are 
 daily snatched away, at this perilous season ; if parents who 
 hoped to smile on the cradle of their child, are destined to 
 weep on his tomb ; why is not the will of nature to be dis- 
 covered, recorded, and taught here as in all her other opera- 
 tions ? why is she gazed at with such trembling attention in 
 her mournful hours, when she is hastening to decay? -and why 
 avert from her the patient eye of science, when she gives a 
 joyful increase, and lends to the earth a living, thinking soul? 
 
310 FOR THE SCOTCH LYING-IN HOSPITAL. 
 
 This is mere folly, arrogance, or unprincipled ridicule ; it is 
 that kind of greatness which is founded upon contempt; that 
 which consists not in doing difficult or praiseworthy things, 
 but in denying that other people do them, and which sup- 
 poses that all the credit refused to the rest of the world will 
 necessarily be reflected upon itself. 
 
 Having thus done what in me lies to convince your reason 
 that this charity is worthy of your approbation, let me inquire 
 of your feelings, if the objects whom it reheves are worthy of 
 your compassion. "*"; 
 
 First, let me remind you that the objects of this charity, 
 are women: — Providence has denied to them the rough cou- 
 rage which struggles with misfortunes ; it has made them the 
 comforters of man, and left them to his grateful protection. If 
 we cannot all be saved from hunger and thirst, let them 
 take the last morsel of bread, and the single cruise of 
 oil, and be clothed with the remaining fleece ; if charity is 
 cold for every other suffering, it must not abandon them in 
 whom the fountains of Christian goodness are never dry; 
 remember how they sit whole nights in the sick man's cham- 
 ber, how they know the language of his moaning, and give 
 him what his looks can only ask ; see how the timid child 
 clings to his mother, how all wretched people flock to women 
 as the temples of mercy. Whatever else be their faults, 
 cruelty is not one ; there never was a wretch so loathsome, 
 so poor, and so sad, who has not found in woman a pity which 
 the multitude of his griefs could never weary. When the 
 disciples of Jesus went away to their own homes, it was Mary 
 who sat down at the sepulchre and wept. 
 
 If this compassion is due to women at all other seasons, 
 what shall we say of it in the season of child-birth ? a season 
 so perilous, that our church has bade every woman who has 
 passed through it, return thanks to Almighty God for her 
 safety. If you have ever entered the house of a poor man, 
 and seen how few of the comforts of life it contains, you must 
 feel some compassion for a mother abandoned to her agonies 
 in the midst of wretchedness and noise; surrounded by other 
 children, without money to purchase food, or the comfortable 
 voice of a friend that she loves to hear. You, who have been 
 the mother of children, who have enjoyed at this season quiet 
 friendship, and the anxious tenderness of family love ; you 
 should have some mercy on mothers poorer than yourselves : 
 — If you know their sorrows, minister to their poverty, — if 
 
FOR THE SCOTCH LYING-IN HOSPITAL. 311 
 
 you remember what you felt for your children, remember also 
 that the voice of nature speaketh as loud in the hearts of the 
 poor. 
 
 If the image of a parent forsaken at this time of her dis- 
 tress, has aught in it which appeals to our compassion, how 
 awful the spectacle of a mother driven by hunger and despair 
 to the destruction of her child. To see a gentle creature 
 hurled from the bosom to which it turns — grasped by the 
 hands that should have toiled for it, — mangled by her who 
 should have washed it with her tears, and warmed it with 
 her breath and fed it with her milk ! You may enjoy a spec- 
 tacle far different from this ; you may see the tranquil mother 
 on the bed of charity, and the peaceful child slumbering in 
 her arms ; you may see her watching the trembling of every 
 limb, and listening to the tide of the breath, and gazing 
 through the dimness of tears on the body of her child. The 
 man who robs and murders for his bread, would give charity 
 to this woman ; good Christians have mercy upon her, and 
 death shall not snatch away your children : they shall live 
 and prosper; mankind will love them! God will defend 
 them ! 
 
 There is a circumstance remarked before the season of 
 child-birth, not unworthy of observation in this place ; I mean 
 the inexpressible anxiety of the mother to provide for her ex- 
 pected child every possible comfort it can want ; to prepare 
 its clothes, and to convince herself by perpetual interference 
 and examination, that everything is ready for its reception.' 
 To some the mention of this may appear trifling and ridicu- 
 lous ; I say it is the bird building her nest, and the ewe seek- 
 ing the sheltered pasture ; it is the eternal God, speaking as 
 he speaks to the native savage, and the creatures of the forest ; 
 it is that language which is more moving than the tombs of 
 heroes, or the ruins of a great city ; it is that gospel which 
 has gone forth to all lands ; it is that piercing original appeal 
 of unprotected weakness, which mankind has heard in every 
 age, which moistens every human face with tears, and melts 
 every soul of flesh. 
 
 If the people of this island enjoy any moral advantages 
 over the rest of Europe, it is, perhaps, in the domesticity of 
 their character, in their attachment to family life, and the 
 pleasure which they derive from the society of their children 
 and wives ; I am speaking to those who will understand me 
 well, when I remind you of the feehngs of a poor industrious 
 
312 FOR THE SCOTCH LYING-IN HOSPITAL. 
 
 man, whose earnings exhausted in the purchase of food, dis- 
 able him from making any provision at this season for the 
 comforts of his wife. When you see him toihng from sun to 
 sun, and still unable to rise from the necessities of the present 
 hour, will you not save to such an useful, honest being, the 
 anguish of returning to a sick house ; the sight of agonies 
 which he cannot relieve, and of wants to which he cannot 
 administer ? Give me a little out of your abundance and I will 
 lift off this weight from his heart ; listen to me when I kneel 
 before you for humble, wretched creatures ; help me with 
 some Christian offering, and I will give meat to the tender 
 mother, and a pillow for her head, and a garment for the little 
 child, and she shall bless God in the fullness of her heart. 
 
 I fear I have detained you too long ; but the sorrows of 
 many human beings rest upon me, and many mothers are 
 praying that I may bring back bread for their children. I 
 told them that this ancient Christian people had never yet 
 abandoned the wretched, that they had ever listened to any 
 minister of Christ who spoke for the poor ; I bade them be of 
 good comfort, that God would raise them up friends ; and when 
 they showed me their children, I vowed for you all, that not 
 one of them should perish for hunger, and for cold ; do not 
 send me back empty handed to these victims of sorrow ; let 
 not the woman and the suckhng be driven from their comfort- 
 able home ; listen to the voice of the woman in travail, and 
 minister to the wailing and spreading of hands ; if one social 
 tie binds you to human life ; if you can tell how the mother's 
 heart is twined about her child ; if you remember how women 
 lighten the sorrows of life : if you are the disciple of the Sa- 
 viour Jesus, to whom they kindly ministered, forsake them 
 not this once, and God shall save you in the hour of death 
 and the day of sharp distress. 
 
 mm- 
 
#11 
 
 SERMON XLVI. 
 
 ON THE PLEASURES OF RELIGION, 
 
 Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace. — Proverbs 
 III. VERSE 1?. 
 
 It has always been the practice with the ministers and 
 teachers of religion, to speak in this manner of the feelings 
 which religion inspires, not to confine themselves to the enu- 
 meration of religious duties, not merely to state the splendid 
 reward of the dutiful in another scene of existence, hut to con- 
 tend that, here upon earth, pleasure and peace are the natural 
 consequences of religion ; that the righteous have not only 
 the expectation of heaven, but the real enjoyment of earth ; 
 that, while their future hopes are more high than those whose 
 principles are unrestrained, their present pleasures are, strictly 
 and literally speaking, in number more frequent, higher in 
 degree, and in nature more pure ; they have given in their 
 contrast, every imaginable advantage to the wicked man; 
 birth, power, honour, genius and wealth ; they have made 
 their righteous man humble, poor, and unknown ; they have 
 said (and they have said most truly), that this last man is 
 blessed rather than the first ; that his mind is full of dearer 
 and sweeter thoughts ; that he is less racked, excited, and 
 disturbed ; that he has more affecting pleasures, more deep 
 and solemn happiness ; that he can so well answer for the 
 wanderings and fancies of his mind, that he has walked so 
 long and so firmly with God, that his ways are the ways of 
 ■pleasantness, and his paths the paths of peace. 
 
 To enumerate the pleasures of righteousness is not possible, 
 without analyzing and dividing every feeling which belongs 
 to the system of human passions, because the effects of right- 
 27 
 
314 ON THE PLEASURES OF RELIGION. 
 
 eousness pervade them all : but I will endeavour to state and 
 describe those which are the most conspicuous, — and the first 
 of these shall be, that control which a righteous man exercises 
 over his passions and desires. 
 
 A righteous man is a happy man, because he is a free man, 
 and the servant to no inward lust ; he can act up to his own 
 decisions, and when he sees what is right, he can do it ; he 
 has found from experience that the impulse of passion may- 
 be withstood, till the resistance becomes habitually strong, 
 and the passion habitually weak, and while the sinner stands 
 trembhng, and says to himself, shall I enjoy this one pleasure ? 
 shall I tempt the mercy of God only this once ?"the righteous 
 man treads down Satan beneath his feet, defends his soul, 
 and walks on to his salvation, unheeding bad pleasures that 
 lure him from eternity. If there is wretchedness upon earth, 
 it is to live by a rule which we perpetually violate ; first, to 
 convince ourselves that the thing is right, that prudence re- 
 quires it, that the world approves it, that religion ordains it ; 
 then, when the eye is tempted, when the heart is touched 
 only by the faint beginnings of pleasure, to forget prudence, 
 to forget the world, to forget religion, to enjoy, and to repent ; 
 he who has suffered this long hates and despises himself; he 
 can see nothing venerable in his own nature ; nothing but that 
 levity and voluptuousness which he would despise in others, 
 and which, in spite of all self-love, he knows to be despicable 
 in himself. 
 
 The most miserable of human beings are professed sinners, 
 men who despise rule, who look upon their passions as mere 
 instruments of pleasure, and are determined to extract from 
 life every drop of amusement it can afford ; the last excess is 
 stale and tiresome ; there must be a higher degree of emotion ; 
 when everything else is exhausted, the destruction of all 
 decency affords some little entertainment ; to laugh at religion 
 is, for some time, new and amusing ; but immodesty and blas- 
 phemy soon weary, like all other wretched resources ; and 
 though it may shame him to return, the sinner finds that 
 (whoever else may have found it), he at least has not chosen 
 the path of pleasantness and peace. 
 
 In fact, putting aside all religious considerations, there is 
 not a greater mistake in the world than to suppose that a pro- 
 fligate man is a happy man ; he seems to be happy, because 
 his enjoyments are more visible and ostentatious ; but is in 
 truth a very sorry and shallow impostor, who may deceive 
 
ON THE PLEASURES OF RELIGION. 315 
 
 the young, but is laughed at by the wise, and by all who 
 know in what true happiness consists ; the truly happy man 
 is he who has early discovered that he carries within his 
 own bosom his worst enemies, that the contest must be man- 
 fully entered into ; that if righteousness does not save him 
 from his sinful appetites, they will rule him up to the moment 
 of the grave ; that they will bend him down to the earth, and 
 tear and rend him like the bad spirits in Scripture ; that his 
 fame will be sullied, his mind and body wasted away, and 
 his substance destroyed. When Solomon saw these things, 
 when he beheld one woman groaning with despair, another 
 writhing with disease, when he beheld the follies, the errors 
 and crimes of the world, and could see nothing placid, no- 
 thing calm, nothing stable but the righteous man ; then he 
 said, (and oh, how truly and wisely he said it,) the Avays of 
 that man are the ways of pleasantness, and his paths the 
 paths of peace. 
 
 A religious man is happy because he is secure ; because it 
 is not in the power of accident, or circumstance, to disclose 
 any secret guilt ; as he is, he has long been; he can refer to 
 the blameless tenour of years ; to a mind long exercised in 
 avoiding offence towards God, and towards man ! His pre- 
 sent enjoyments are never polluted by bitter remembrances 
 of the past ; whatever he has of honour or consideration 
 among men, he has honestly and safely ; it does not depend 
 upon their ignorance, nor upon his dexterity, nor upon any 
 fortunate combination of events ; the more men know him, 
 the more they love him ; the more they try him, the more 
 plainly they are convinced that he follows after righteousness 
 as the truest wisdom, and that this feeling is the plain and 
 simple key to all his actions ; herein it is that the sinner so 
 grossly miscalculates his happiness, and that he is so bitterly 
 taunted by the great masters of ethics in the Scriptures ; that 
 he has lost that in which the pleasantness and comfort of 
 righteousness principally consists ; the inviolable feeling of 
 security by which it is accompanied ; believe me, whether 
 you have sold this for money, or parted with it for ambition, 
 or bartered it for the joy of some vile appetite, you have lost 
 the purest and noblest instrument of human happiness. The 
 time will come when you will say to yourself, why did I 
 do this? why did I give up my pleasant innocence? why 
 cannot I look upon every man that I meet with the same 
 firmness and cheerfulness with which I was wont ? In this 
 
31^ ON THE PLEASURES OP RELIGION. 
 
 short and passing life, there is nothing which can repay a 
 man for the loss of his own conscious purity. In extreme 
 old age, he will loathe the chariots and the horses, the pur- 
 ple, the fine linen, and the sumptuous fare the price of his 
 soul, and will remember, (when it is too late,) that the ways 
 of righteousness were pleasant, and her paths the paths of 
 peace. 
 
 I should say that another great source of pleasure, from 
 religion, is the feelings of charity and brotherly love which 
 it always inspires. As gracious God has given to one object 
 beautiful colours, and to another grateful odours, he has 
 annexed exquisite feehngs of happiness to the performance 
 of every benevolent action ; it is impossible to do good to 
 others, without feeling happy from it ; and the conviction, 
 which religion inspires, that a man is not born for himself 
 alone, and the habit which it inculcates, of attention to the 
 interests and feelings of mankind, induce at last that state 
 of calm and permanent satisfaction which the words of 
 Solomon describe. For as nothing disturbs us more than to 
 perceive the eflects of that secret, yet general enmity, which 
 is produced by high-mindedness, arrogance and selfishness, 
 so nothing is more grateful than general love, produced by 
 a long tenour of courtesy, of justice, of active kindness and 
 of modest respect. It is not only the subsequent reflection 
 which this benevolence, the attribute of righteousness, pro- 
 duces, but it makes happiness by giving new interest to hfe; 
 other men cultivate the great, the rich and the celebrated ; 
 but the righteous man cultivates and studies all whom he 
 approaches, not because they are rich, or great, or powerful, 
 but because they are human beings, and it is his duty, as a 
 Christian, to be gentle and gracious to all ; to make him 
 benevolent, it is not necessary that his avarice should be 
 awakened, his vanity gratified, or his curiosity excited ; he 
 has no need of such powerful motives ; but if he can make 
 the mean greater in their own eyes, — if he can give confi- 
 dence to the humble, — if he can instruct the ignorant,— if he 
 can do good to any human being, that is enough for him ; 
 his recompense is that the sum of human happiness should 
 be increased, and that he himself should be the humble in- 
 strument of good. Contrast these feelings with the contempt 
 which worldly men assume ; the unchecked hatred in which 
 they think it lawful to indulge ; their neglect and inattention 
 to all whom they have not some poignant motive for honour- 
 
ON THE PLEASURES OF RELIGION, 317 
 
 ing ; look to this striking contrast, see what different states of 
 mind must result from this diversity of conduct and charac- 
 ter, and then determine who understands happiness the best; 
 who has taken the best views of human life ; whose ways 
 are the ways of pleasantness, and whose paths the paths of 
 peace. 
 
 The greatest torment of this world is the uncertainty of 
 living at all, and the uncertainty of retaining the good things 
 of this world, if we do live ; but here is a man, the man of 
 religious wisdom, who has practically adapted his love of 
 some objects to their own uncertain nature and hopes, if he 
 loses others here, to meet with them in another scene of ex- 
 istence ; if he experiences a reverse of fortune he feels it ; 
 but he feels it moderately ; it is not his only hope, nor his 
 best hope. I would rather my passage were pleasant (he 
 says) but it is only a passage ; I am hastening onward to 
 that state of existence which I have been always taught 
 from my first childhood to look up to as the end and object 
 of this. I have no false philosophy ; I allow, that what are 
 commonly called the good things of this world, are properly 
 the objects of a moderate desire and attention ; but I have 
 so trained and accustomed my mind to think of something 
 better, I have drawn such fairer pictures and contemplated 
 such nobler scenes, that no human misfortune can cast me 
 down, and utterly deprive me of my pleasantness and my 
 peace. 
 
 We see, sometimes, that a man rejoices with trembling ; 
 that he is afraid to give way to his human affections, that he 
 shudders at the warmth of his own feelings for children, or 
 for parents, because he does not know how soon he may mourn 
 over the frailties of life ; here (he says) I have never checked 
 my heart ; I have shipped all my happiness upon that which 
 a breath of wind, or a little too much damp, or a little too 
 much heat may for ever destroy ; the righteous man, he also 
 has his feehngs ; but though his tears fall down over the 
 dead like the tears of other men ; though he rends his gar- 
 ment, and clothes himself in sackcloth and in ashes, his 
 spirit comes back to him, and his pleasantness returns, be- 
 cause he knows that the souls of the dead are in the hands of 
 God, and that a better state of existence will restore to him 
 all that he has lost in this ; by connecting immortality with 
 this short life, he lightens all its burthens, lessens all its 
 misfortunes, and gilds all its pleasures ; if his happiness fluc- 
 
 27* 
 
318 ON THE PLEASURES OF RELIGIOPT. 
 
 tuates here, he can look to that in which there is no varyingfi 
 nor shadow of change ; if the joys of this world fall short of^ 
 his expectations, he knows that others await him greater 
 than his imagination can conceive ; if he is afflicted here by 
 the appearances of successful injustice, and the sinner tri- 
 umphing in the fruits of his wickedness, he cheers himself 
 with the thought of final retribution ; the righteous man car- 
 ries about with him a charm which protects his mind from 
 the effects of injury, vicissitude and doubt ; and leaves him in 
 that state of pleasantness and peace which wealth and power 
 alone, and all the common instruments of happiness, can so 
 seldom confer. 
 
 I have just now alluded to another source of tranquillity ia 
 the mind of the righteous man: I mean the comforts he derives 
 from the future retributive justice of rehgion. 
 
 A man of proper feeling always suffers, from observing 
 the striking disproportion that exists in this world between 
 happiness and merit ; the spectacle of a good man struggling 
 with misfortune, or languishing in obscurity, excites strong 
 compassion ; but it is the severest trial of human patience, to 
 witness the respect, honour and prosperity of bad men ; there 
 are no events which ruffle the tranquiUity of the mind more, 
 and which more encourage a general sensation of disgust at 
 human life. These sad scenes are tolerable to the religious 
 man alone, from that final order and regularity with which 
 he knows they will hereafter be concluded ; he pities suc- 
 cessful vice, while others rage against, or envy it ; he knows 
 that the good forgotten, and the just persecuted, are precious 
 in the sight of God, and that their sorrows are the pledges of 
 salvation. Wherever he looks, justice in its most perfect 
 shape terminates his view ; all guilt is detected ; aU innocence 
 is brought to hght ; at the conclusion of all things a never- 
 failing judge gives to every thinking soul, the good and the 
 evil which are its due. 
 
 These are the vexations which the religious man escapes, 
 and these the sources of that tranquillity which so commonly 
 falls to his share ; his happiness does not obtrude itself; it is 
 not noisy nor splendid ; it does not consist in humbling the 
 pride and exciting the envy of others ; it is deep, placid and 
 internal; a pleasantness and a peace proceeding from mode- 
 ration of desire, just observation on human condition, and 
 ardent hope of immortality. Superstition is not righteous- 
 ness, fanaticism is not righteousness, nor are idle fears, or 
 
ON THE PLEASURES OF RELIGION. 31^ 
 
 vain fancies, or frivolous observances deserving of that name ; 
 but that Hberal and enlightened righteousness which the Gos- 
 pel teaches is happiness; the most unbounded voluptuary 
 that the world ever produced has not a thousandth part of 
 that enjoyment of life that he has whose passions are regu- 
 lated, and whose hopes are immortal. After the first dark- 
 ness of youthful ignorance is dispelled, it is the clearest and 
 plainest of all truths that righteousness is the only source of 
 peace ; the only system upon which the difficulties and dis- 
 tresses of life can possibly be encountered and subdued. — No 
 man is so profoundly ignorant of pleasure as a professed 
 sinner ; pleasure is gained by being the lord and master of 
 our own hearts; by binding our passions in links of iron; 
 by adapting worldly hopes and fears to the nature of worldly, 
 things ; by obeying God, by trusting to his providence, by 
 expecting his judgments ; this is the discipline which banishes 
 fear, excludes remorse, and renders despair impossible ; it 
 gives birth to hope, it cherishes joy, it nourishes great thoughts, 
 it produces enchanting desires, it colours the earth over with 
 the gay light of heaven, and makes the ways of every man 
 the ways of pleasantness, and his paths the paths of peace. 
 
SERMON XLVII. 
 
 UPON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 
 
 And ye fathers, bring up your children in the nurture and admonition of 
 the Lord. — Ephesians vi. verse 4, in part. 
 
 In treating of the subject of religious education, as I pro- 
 pose to do this day, it is impossible not to begin with an 
 opinion which neither leans to this nor that system, but ob- 
 jects totally to all religious education whatever. For instance, 
 it is said, why give to children strong opinions upon subjects 
 of the highest difficulty and the highest importance, and 
 which they may possibly be induced to change when their 
 understandings are mature ? instruct them only in the first 
 principles of natural religion, and leave them to a gradual 
 acquisition of the sacred truths of Revelation, in proportion as 
 the growth of their understandings enables them to estimate 
 the value of that evidence upon which Christianity depends ; 
 by these means their belief will always be rational, and they 
 will not entertain a faith for which they are not ready to 
 render a reason. The objection to this system, which appears 
 to be more distinguished for an absence of good sound sense 
 than for any feature of ingenious paradox which it may ex- 
 hibit ; the objection to it is, that yoM cannot keep a mind void 
 of all religious opinions which you do not bring up in a par- 
 ticular system of those opinions ; such a state of suspense, 
 even if it were desirable, cannot be obtained ; some principles 
 on such a subject the mind will imbibe, and your alternative 
 is, not between those which you are ready to infuse and none 
 at all ; but it is between your own and those crude and peril- 
 ous opinions which sin is ever ready to suggest, levity always 
 prompt to encourage, and ignorance never able to detect and 
 repel ; at the very moment when you had intended to begin 
 
UPON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. ^^t 
 
 this long-deferred education, to avail yourself of this now- 
 matured reason, and to oifer to his free election those truths 
 which you thought it uncandid to impress upon a ductile and 
 ignorant child ; at that moment you would find the question pre- 
 judged : you would perceive the mind filled up by opinions as 
 strong as those you had kept away, but not as good ; yooi 
 would meet with all the obstinacy you dreaded, with prepos- 
 sessions equally formed before they could be fairly discussed; 
 but without the qualification of their being formed in favour 
 of truth. Besides, can it be a reason why a parent should 
 not teach to his children those sacred truths which have taken 
 such firm hold of his belief, because such truths may not 
 hereafter present to the ripe understanding of his offspring 
 an evidence as satisfactory as they have done to his own ? 
 What can any man do but communicate to the mind of an- 
 other a belief as sincere as that which actuates his o^vn? he 
 does so fearlessly in all human science ; why should he dread 
 to do it where the instruction is more necessary, and the lesson 
 more awful ? It is not possible to wait for opinions till we 
 are capable of judging whether opinions are right or wrong ;.^^ 
 we must act before we can reason ; a great part of humaft 
 life is elapsed, and all the habits which are to influence the 
 future man are formed before it can be said that he is fairly 
 capable of forming a judicious opinion upon any abstruse 
 subject ; in the meantime he must have decided notions of sin 
 and righteousness ; a divine law sanctioning those notions ; 
 a strenuous belief giving to that law its full influence upon 
 his actions ; and ancient forms cherishing that strenuous 
 belief. If none of these things were taught till the causes 
 from which they originate, the evidence on which they de- 
 pend, and the consequences to which they lead, could be 
 plainly apprehended, it is quite clear that they would soon 
 cease to be taught at all. Ye fathers, says the apostle, with- 
 out any regard to these things, bring up your children in the 
 nurture and admonition of the Lord; give them your own 
 religious opinions firmly and tenaciously; plant so deep that^^ 
 the seed will not easily be rooted up ; instead of candidly^^ 
 waiting for mature reason, seize practically hold of all the 
 softness and ductility of youth, use all the influence and 
 authority of age to inculcate the principles of the Gospel : 
 whatever changes in those principles may be made by the 
 future commerce of life that may depend upon circumstances 
 
322 UPON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 
 
 over which we have no control, let us only unfold the book 
 of God in the season of gentleness and obedience, and after 
 this manner bring up our children in the nurture and admo- 
 nition of the Lord. 
 
 It will not, I presume, be considered as indiscreet to re- 
 mark, that some mischief is done in religious education by the 
 over-zealous feelings of the teacher, who appears to believe, that 
 a sentiment cannot be too frequently repeated, because it is 
 good, or a cause be weakly defended because it is right. At 
 a certain period of youth, and with a certain share of pene- 
 tration in him who reads, it is not sufficient that those works 
 which are written for religious instruction should be pious ; 
 they must be able, as well as pious ; there must not only be 
 zeal, but zeal according to knowledge ; not merely abuse of 
 infidelity, but conviction and refutation ; sound argument 
 from candid premises ; fair admission, impartial statement, 
 accurate knowledge, vigorous reasoning, conclusions modest 
 in style, and irresistible in power. Christianity disdains to 
 suppress any facts, or to impute bad motives instead of an- 
 
 ^^wering plausible objections; it must be proved by something 
 stronger than exclamation, and defended by something less 
 precarious than feeling ; the selection of writers calculated to 
 promote rehgious knowledge in the young, is therefore an 
 object of much greater skill and delicacy than it is commonly 
 conceived to be ; because nothing can be more pernicious to 
 the prosperity of a cause than the weakness and uncandid 
 spirit of those who are its advocates ; and amidst the great 
 number who stand forward with laudable zeal, in the defence 
 of religion, it must of course happen that there are some who 
 have no other merit than the merit of intending well. 
 
 May we also add, that some mischief is done in religious 
 
 education, by the very high tone taken up respecting reli- 
 
 • gious subjects ; the evidence for Revelation is sometimes rashly 
 
 *^ ( compared to geometrical evidence ; everything is represented 
 
 "^ \ as so clear, and so perspicuous, that it is impossible any diffi- 
 
 ^jgulty can be suggested ; it is not contended that a solution is 
 
 ^^eady, but that a doubt cannot exist ; the mischief of which 
 overstatement is, that a young person, embarrassed by the first 
 arguments of infidelity which chance has thrown or design 
 placed in his way, considers that he has been deceived, that 
 the truth has been kept from him, and becomes irreligious, 
 partly to vindicate the dignity of his understanding, partly 
 
UPON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 323 
 
 from the sudden suspicion that the cause of infideHty is much 
 stronger than it really is. Truth is ever safe and ever dura- 
 ble ; it is better to admit at once, that in a question which 
 depends upon the evidence of eighteen centuries, there are 
 some difficulties, that all is not reduced to demonstration, or 
 clear to be apprehended as objects of sense ; it is sufficient, 
 that by your own candour and industry, you may arrive at 
 such a preponderance of evidence as will produce decided 
 conviction, and leave you without a fair doubt of the Divine 
 origin of the Scriptures ; but do not imagine, if you are de- 
 termined to investigate the question, that you have no doubts 
 to dispei and no difficulties to solve ; those doubts you will 
 dispel, and those difficulties you will solve ; your solemn 
 opinions will at length rest, not upon the authority of other 
 men's minds, but upon the full conviction of your own. 
 Such is the language that I should deem it most useful to 
 hold in religious education, and after this manner would I 
 bring up a child to the nurture and admonition of the Lord. 
 
 A very important part of rehgious education is the virtues 
 of toleration and forbearance ; it is the duty of us all to edu- 
 cate our children in that modification of the Christian faith 
 which we ourselves profess, and to inspire them with a strong 
 predilection for that church of which we are members, by 
 insisting on those circumstances upon which we conceive its 
 superiority to be founded ; but these feelings we must labour 
 to unite with a respect for every other Christian worship ; 
 with a conviction of the indisputable right of every sect to 
 worship God after their own notions of spirit, and of truth, 
 and with a decided aversion to every species of hatred and 
 persecution, grounded upon difference of rehgious opinion. 
 
 The spirit of intolerance, however, so contrary to the nur- 
 ture and admonition of the Lord, so apt, but for incessant 
 care, to mingle with, and pollute the true evangelical spirit, 
 does not furnish, as many contend, any argument against re- 
 ligion ; but shows only how difficult it is for men to endure 
 contradiction upon topics which so deeply penetrate the un- 
 derstanding, and affect the heart ; it shows the useful and 
 pervading energy of a principle which a man does not re- 
 ceive as he receives the cold truths of human science, but 
 pants to carry it into other men's hearts, and to light over 
 the world the same burning zeal which glows within him- 
 self ; that this spirit is capable of every dangerous excess ; 
 
324 UPON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 
 
 that every effort of religious education should be used for its 
 moderation, is unquestionably true ; but it only shows that 
 the thought of God, because it is greater than all other 
 thoughts, stirs up stronger passions ; that when men are think- 
 ing of eternity, you cannot keep them within the same limits 
 as if they were reasoning of the interests of a day ; but temper 
 this great incitement with a commanding prudence, and you 
 may draw from it every peaceful virtue in this world, and 
 every heavenly blessing in the next. 
 
 There is a toleration which, instead of proceeding from the 
 meekness and modesty of a Christian, is derived from a cal- 
 lous indifference to every description of faith ; this, of course, 
 is not a virtue, but an accidental good consequence from a 
 vice ; the difficulty to conquer, the merit to display, the evan- 
 gelical feeling to possess, is to cherish no sentiment of aver- 
 sion for him who warmly denies what you warmly affirm ; 
 who believes that form to be indifferent which you have al- 
 ways been taught to consider as essential ; if you wish to 
 such a person no punishment and no privation because such 
 has been his rehgious discipline, and such yours ; if at the 
 moment you firmly believe yourself right, you are aware it 
 is possible you may be wrong ; if you are at once sincere 
 and indulgent, zealous and forgiving, firm and modest, you 
 have then, indeed, fought a good fight ; the true spirit of the 
 Gospel is within you, and good and great is that man who 
 has thus brought you up in the nurture and admonition of 
 the Lord. 
 
 It is a great difficulty in religious education, to inspire 
 proper notions concerning the forms and ceremonies of reli- 
 gion : one danger is, that the practice of religion may come 
 in time to be considered as inferior in importance to those 
 very forms which were only instituted to promote and protect 
 it ; the opposite danger is that from the neglect of forms, the 
 essential part of religion may be itself impaired ; the age, 
 however, in which we live is some guide to him who would 
 steer safely through those opposite extremes, the genius of 
 which is, I am afraid, rather to neglect those forms which are 
 necessary than to cultivate those which are superfluous. 
 
 Fanaticism is one of those great perils which are cautiously 
 to be guarded against, in bringing up children in the nurture 
 and admonition of the Lord ; they are to be taught that God 
 is not served by extravagance ; that it is possible to be fervent 
 
UPON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 325 
 
 Without being foolish ; that the least acceptable sacrifice to 
 Heaven is the sacrifice of propriety and common sense ; that 
 though it be a true sign that you are drawing near to God 
 when men persecute you for your righteousness, it is a sure 
 sign that you have mistaken the way to him, when all men. 
 deride you for your absurdity. Arrogant ignorance, insisting 
 upon persecution, and canvassing for contempt, will never 
 reap the rewards of that modest righteousness which, shun- 
 ning the notice of men, will still rather endure persecution, 
 than do wrong. 
 
 It is no inconsideralJle part of religious discipline, to guard 
 the mind from the influence of superstition, and to inspire 
 just notions of the Deity, so that the soul may not be afraid 
 where no fear is, nor those principles be converted to our 
 punishment which were intended for our happiness. A su- 
 perstitious man is afraid of joy and amusement, and trembles 
 when he is not wretched, lest God should be angry; he per- 
 ceives that the means of happiness are given, but he thinks 
 they were placed here to tempt, not to bless ; even perpetual 
 sadness cannot make him safe ; a thousand involuntary 
 thoughts spring up, which he thinks the angels record for his 
 future punishment ; he is perpetually acting, and looking, 
 and thinking sin, and there is always near him a cruel and 
 envious God who made him frail, and marks his frailty for 
 guilt. For him Nature has no ordinary course, and Provi- 
 dence no general law ; every death is a judgment, and every 
 sickness a visitation ; nothing that concerns him is ever 
 brought about by secondary means ; he becomes healthy, and 
 ill, rich and poor, by a special interposition of Providence ; 
 lives under a separate dispensation, and is the subject of more 
 miracles then were employed for the establishment of the 
 sacred truths of Christ. All these are false and superstitious 
 notions of the Deity, for though we may believe that God does 
 sometimes interfere, we cannot know when, and it is deroga- 
 tory to the wisdom of those general rules by which the world 
 is governed, to suppose that they so perpetually require cor- 
 rection and change : this is not the true nurture and admoni- 
 tion of the Lord. — It is our business rather to show the young 
 that this world does not belong to the just and the good ; that 
 wickedness triumphs in it, and sin is prosperous ; but that 
 there is One on high who sees it all, and will not endure it 
 for ever ; to please whom you must possess a mind prone to 
 38 
 
336 
 
 UPON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 
 
 compassion, swift to forgive, and able to suffer long ; which 
 no aspiration for power or wealth can make base ; which loves 
 to be good and just better than it loves any one thing human ; 
 which employs life in mortifying sin, promoting righteousness 
 and rendering itself better fitted for heaven ; these are the 
 true notions of the Almighty, which the Gospel teaches ; and 
 these are the feelings the apostle would inspire, when he 
 commands a parent to rear up his children in the nurture 
 and admonition of the Lord. 
 
SERMON XL Ail 1 1. 
 
 ON THE USE AND ABUSE OF THE 
 WORLD. 
 
 They that use this world as not abusing it. — I Corinthians vii. verse 31. 
 
 If we attend to the general tenour of the language of our 
 blessed Saviour and his disciples upon the subject of worldly- 
 pursuits, it is quite clear that their object was not to abolish, 
 but to regulate them ; not to persuade mankind that they 
 should not use the world, but that they should so use it, as 
 not to abuse it. The whole of life of course cannot be passed 
 in the fervour of prayer, and the effusions of piety ; the great- 
 est part must be spent in action, and to act we must have 
 desires sufficiently strong and systematic to become pursuits ; 
 it is not only lawful to engage in worldly pursuits, but abso- 
 lutely necessary to do so ; without them righteousness would 
 be fantastical speculation or criminal indolence ; the great 
 points for consideration are, as we must pursue something, 
 what is best worth the pursuit? what are those objects at 
 which a wise and religious man may fairly aim ? how may 
 he use the world without abusing it ? Imperfect as all its 
 pleasures are, what are the best and greatest that world can 
 afford ? For I repeat again, that righteousness cannot con- 
 sist in neglecting and despising everything in this world, but 
 in selecting proper objects of our attention ; and in rendering 
 even those proper objects subordinate to the higher considera- 
 tions of religion. 
 
 It has been ever a great question with the pious and the 
 good, what degree of happiness the world can afford ; the 
 holy Scriptures call it the valley of tears; the dark shadow of 
 deatii is said to be shed over it ; all things have been deno- 
 minated vanity and vexation of spirit, which are under the 
 
328 ON THE USE AND ABUSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 sun ; but these melancholy views of human life either respect 
 the errors of life, and the common foolish objects of our am- 
 bition, or they are intended to contrast the brief, fluctuating, 
 and half-satisfactory joys of the world, with a perfect and 
 eternal felicity. It is still, therefore, true that there are some 
 pursuits which will probably confer happiness upon him, 
 who, at the same time, firmly connects this world with that 
 which succeeds it ;» such happiness is not, to be sure, con- 
 summate and certain, but it is highly probable, and very im- 
 portant. 
 
 I will, therefore, expatiate upon the methods of using the 
 world, without abusing it, and enumerate those objects which 
 are truly worthy of a wise man's best exertions. 
 
 The first rule for using the world is, to live in it with a 
 clear conscience, without the startings and trembling of guilt ; 
 in innocence, openness, and decent freedom; this is the basis 
 of happiness, the rock on which the house is reared. What- 
 ever be our external condition, if there is not a perfect clear- 
 ness within from all great and atrocious sin, life is but a load 
 of anguish, and the greatest man breathing, a wretch who 
 would gain by exchanging his existence with the lowest of 
 human beings. 
 
 This obvious point of a good conscience disposed of, the 
 world is to be used, and not abused, with regard to wealth ; 
 and this is not so easy a point to adjust ; it may, however, be 
 stated (I think) with safety, that a wise and religious man 
 may strive to obtain that middle station of opulence which 
 places him above contempt, and below envy ; which, while 
 it shelters him from that unfortunate ridicule which is too 
 often the lot of poverty, neither affords the opportunity, nor 
 encourages the disposition to exercise a depraved superiority 
 over his fellow-creatures ; beyond this, riches are not an evil 
 if they come, but they are not a good worth the toil of pur- 
 suit. The state of enjoyment which one degree of wealth 
 afTords over another, soon becomes habitual ; what is sump- 
 tuous fare to one, is daily food to another; and your luxuries 
 are the common enjoyments of some man greater than you. 
 The proportion between an ordinary state and an unusual 
 gratification is the same in all, though each class in life posi- 
 tively sets out from a different degree in the scale ; from which 
 of those degrees it is our lot to begin our career, is a circum- 
 stance perfectly immaterial to happiness ; the abuse of the 
 world is to eat forever the bread of carefulness ; to come late 
 to rest, to rise up early, to add vineyard to vineyard, and field 
 
ON THE USE AND ABUSE OF THE WORLD. 329 
 
 to field, till there is no one (as the Scriptures say), left upon 
 the earth ; to hoard up, and to gather into garners, as if we 
 were to equal the rocks and hills in duration ; and were to 
 remain here, till the heavens themselves had waxed old, and 
 were rolled up like a garment, and changed as a vesture is 
 changed. 
 
 To use the world aright, there must be a vigorous employ- 
 ment of time, a great and absorbing occupation to prevent the 
 temptation and dispel the melancholy of idleness. The effects 
 of inactivity make the intentions of Almighty Grod clear as 
 they regard the destiny of man ; for to do nothing is so horri- 
 ble, that we are often compelled to do harm to avoid it ; and 
 sin becomes the natural resource of indolence. The want of 
 occupation gives birth too to that anticipation of evil, those 
 -dismal views into futurity, which occasion much more un- 
 happiness than the evils themselves when they do occur. 
 An occupied man has no leisure for counterfeit misfortune ; 
 an inward impulse hurries him on through little doubts, jea- 
 lousies, suspicions, and distant fears, and keeps him ever 
 cheerful, and ever serene ; an evil which is not come, he 
 thinks may not come ; if its approach is certain, he does not 
 magnify its degree ; life receives in him all that assistance 
 from sweetness of temperament, harmony of disposition, and 
 wise arrangement of thought, which their ministry can pos- 
 sibly supply; and though there are of course many evils 
 which do not depend upon our method of judging them, yet 
 there are many others which may be magnified into serious 
 misfortunes, or will subside into insignificant trifles according 
 to the tenour of that disposition upon which they fall. All 
 these advantages are gained by a full and active occupation 
 of time ; without which it is hardly possible to enjoy much 
 of innocence, dignity, or happiness in this life, or to use the 
 world without abusing it. 
 
 Another great ingredient for the increase of happiness 
 and the proper use of life, is the cultivation of kindness and 
 benevolence ; nothing can be more worthy the exertions of a 
 wise man than this discipline, or so likely to reconcile him 
 to the world for the short period in which he remains in it; 
 the lowest degree of it consists in avoiding all just cause for 
 offence ; no callous indifference to other men's feelings ; no 
 belief that strength or greatness of mind is evinced by con- 
 tempt of the little niceties which inflict pleasure and pain; 
 rio superiority founded on that unchristian asperity which 
 
 3b* 
 
330 ON THE USE AND ABUSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 any man can assume who is sufficiently devoid of delicacy 
 and shame to do so ; but a firm conviction and a perfect re- 
 collection that all men have as much right to be happy as 
 ourselves ; and an earnest desire to study and respect their 
 feelings in the most minute parts of Hfe, so that no man may 
 know, on our account, one moment of pain which a deliberate 
 sense of duty does not compel us to inflict : but these are 
 narrow hmits for the feehngs of kindness ; a wise man will 
 not only please by not offending, but please by positive efforts 
 to comply (so far as sincerity and innocence permit), with 
 the leading notions and prevaihng systems of those with 
 whom he lives, so as to be a perpetual source of satisfaction 
 to his little portion of the world, and to contribute his efforts 
 to gladden and to embellish human intercourse. It is possi- 
 ble for any man in time to teach himself the strongest sym- 
 pathy with the happiness of others, however distant and 
 unknown ; so that every blessing which it pleases Almighty 
 God to vouchsafe to the children of men, the sick rescued 
 from death ; the poor defended from oppression ; the good 
 rewarded; an injured nation victorious over its powerful ene- 
 mies ; any history of joy, any page out of the annals of hap- 
 piness, may bring with it its tribute of calm and placid satis- 
 faction. These habits of benevolence necessarily procure not 
 only general good will, but raise up by degrees the blessings 
 of friendship, the shield and ornament of hfe ; and if there is 
 any worldly thing worth the notice of a religious mind, it is 
 to be cared for by good and upright men ; to feel that you 
 have endeared yourself to those who have sagacity to discern 
 what you really are, and to compare you with the rest of the 
 world ; to enjoy that noble proof, that your struggles for right- 
 eousness have not been fruitless, or your efforts to meliorate 
 your fallen nature quite in vain ; that you have some value, 
 some attraction, some source of conciliation, some little portion 
 of good ; that you are not quite left alone and abandoned in 
 the wilderness of hfe. This is one of the greatest goods the 
 world affords, and I wish most forcibly to impress upon the 
 younger part of my congregation, that the friendship of just, 
 able, and pious men, is the highest prize they can obtain ; 
 the most signal blessing which God bestows ; the soundest 
 proof of having done well ; the best security for doing well ; 
 the highest human barrier against all sordid impurities and 
 base comphances ; the greatest comfort and hope and embel- 
 lishment of life. 
 
ON THE USE AND ABUSE OF THE WORLD. 331 
 
 The world may be said to be used without abuse, when a 
 portion of hfe is dedicated to the acquisition of knowledge ; to 
 discover more of truth, and to become better acquainted with 
 the propesties and relations of those objects by which we are 
 surrounded, promotes the happiness of others, while it secures 
 or increases our own ; to see what this world is in which we 
 are placed, to investigate the curious attributes of each object 
 it contains, seems to be a life agreeable to that Providence 
 which has placed us in the midst of wfj^ders, and roused us by 
 inward feelings to their contemplation. The love of knowledge 
 may be fairly and religiously indulged from an experience of 
 the beneficial effects which it produces upon human happiness, 
 from remembering that the sick are healed by knowledge, the 
 hungry fed fcy it; the blessings of nature generally diffused and 
 equally divided by it ; the appetites and passions of mankind, 
 arranged in civil institutions by knowledge ; and all the powers 
 of matter, turned from the destruction of the human race, to 
 their use and convenience. The most zealous Christian of us 
 all, in cultivating human knowledge, will find the amplest 
 occasions for carrying into effect all its provisions of benevo- 
 lence ; it will add power to his charity, and give to him those 
 enlightened views and strengthened faculties which confer 
 wisdom and skill in doing good ; besides, too, though life is a 
 moment compared with eternity, it brings with it many 
 weary, weighing hours, which are best lightened by the 
 varied and inexhaustible resources of knowledge; by its 
 exuberance of images ; by its fertility of thought, and the 
 busy inward world which it makes within the breast ; a man 
 is not saved by knowledge, and if he is puffed up with it, it 
 is laughter and lightness before God ; but we must use the 
 world in some way while we are in this place of sojourning; 
 we must do the best that the temporary nature intrusted to us 
 seems to indicate ; and there is nothing better which we can 
 do, than to love that which is always the guardian of inno- 
 cence, the friend of true religion, and the handmaid of labori- 
 qas virtue. 
 
 The last point which I shall state as conducive to happiness 
 and as using the world aright, is a moderate and temperate 
 enjoyment of the praises of our fellow-creatures ; not that 
 human praise is ever to be a motive for action ; the love of 
 Christ and sincere faith in his holy name, are the only lawful 
 and religious motive for human actions ; but when we have 
 acted from these motives ; when, in compliance with the pre- 
 
332 ON THE USE AND ABUSE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 cepts of the Gospel, we have dedicated a great part of exist- 
 ence to the good of mankind, then if praise does come, it is a 
 pure joy of hfe ; if all men say vvith one accord, we have 
 ever beheld in you the beautiful signs of mercy and compas- 
 sion ; we have long seen you forgetful of yourself, labouring 
 even for those who could never know the author of their hap- 
 piness, giving up day after day, and year after year, to plans 
 of benevolent wisdom and exalted goodness ; if all this bursts 
 in upon a human beinp^ and moves the springs of his heart 
 with joy, his Saviour does not call upon him to hear with 
 coldness the overflowing gratitude of his own flesh and blood; 
 his pleasure is lawful, and there is joy in heaven itself over 
 the tenderness and the happiness of the world. 
 
 This, then, it is to use the world and not a6ws^it ; at these 
 solemn seasons of humiliation and review, it is our duty to 
 direct aright the objects of human ambition, to reclaim man- 
 kind from the paths of sin and death, and to prevent them 
 from losing that trifling portion of good which this world is 
 able to supply; a conscience clear of crime, a moderate com- 
 petence of wealth, the soul of charity and brotherly love ; a 
 thirst for knowledge ; a fair distinction among men, earned by 
 a life of zealous and enhghtened benevolence ; this is the 
 frame and tenour of mind, in which, (if I could) I would live 
 my short hour on the stage of hfe ; and in this manner, would 
 I least tremble to meet my Redeemer and my Judge. How 
 is it that men do use the world ? Too often for gain ; too often 
 for conquest ; too often for inordinate vanity ; for sensual 
 pleasure ; for palaces built by crimes ; for trophies reared by 
 cruelties ; for bad joys gained by breaking mens' hearts, and 
 by grinding them to the dust ; in this way we seek for hap- 
 piness, where no happiness is to be found, mistaking and 
 forgetting the boon of God ; for the Almighty has vouchsafed 
 to us here, a little portion of joy to comfort us in this time of 
 our pilgrimage, and to charm our pained steps over the soil 
 of life ; yet that pleasure is quiet, modest, unassuming, evan- 
 gelical, coming from a good heart, tender to all men, humbled 
 before God, using the world, not abusing it, waiting day an^ 
 night, in all faith, and all humility, and resignation, for the 
 coming of Christ. 
 
SERMON XLIX. 
 ON THE RESUERECTION 
 
 If Christ be not risen then is our preaching vain, and your faith is also vain. 
 First Book of Cokinthians xv. verse 14. 
 
 * The history of the resurrection of Christ is one of the 
 most valuable parts of the Christian evidence ; not that, as a 
 miracle, the resurrection is to be accounted a more decisive 
 proof of supernatural agency than any other miracle ; not 
 that, as it stands, it is better attested than many others ; but 
 that it is completely certain, that the apostles of Christ and the 
 first teachers of Christianity asserted the fact; and this would 
 have been equally certain if the four Gospels had been lost or 
 never written ; every piece of Scripture recognizes the resur- 
 rection ; every epistle of every apostle ; every author co- 
 temporary with the apostles ; of the age immediately succeed- 
 ing the apostles ; every writing, from that age to the present, 
 genuine or spurious, on the side of Christianity, or against it, 
 concur in representing the resurrection of Christ as an article 
 of his history received without doubt by all who called them- 
 selves Christians, alleged from the beginning by the propa- 
 gators of the institution, and alleged as the centre of their 
 testimony. Nothing which a man does not himself hear or 
 see can be more certain than that the apostles and first teachers 
 of Christianity gave out that Jesus had risen from the dead ; 
 in the other parts of the Gospel narrative, a question may be 
 made by infidels whether the things related of Christ be the 
 very things which the apostles and first teachers of the religion 
 delivered concerning him ? And this question depends a good 
 deal upon the evidence we possess of the genuineness, the 
 
 • The greater part of the arguments in this sermon, and in the sermon 
 on the Nature of Christianity , are taiten from Paley's Evidence. 
 
--A 
 
 334 ON THE RESURRECTION. 
 
 antiquity, the credit, and the reception of the books ; upon 
 the subject of the resurrection, no such discussion is necessary, 
 because no such doubt is entertained ; whatever else is certain 
 of the resurrection, it is qidte certain, that it was outwardly 
 asserted to be true by the disciples of Christ ; and the only 
 points which can enter into our consideration are, whether the 
 apostles knowingly published a falsehood, or whether they 
 were themselves deceived. If either of these suppositions is 
 possible, or highly probable, the resurrection of our Saviour 
 cannot be considered as that strong evidence of the truth of 
 Christianity which the ministers of the Gospel have always 
 represented it to be. 
 
 The supposition of fraud (after a considerable trial of its 
 efficacy),is, I believe, pretty generally given up by the enemies 
 of the Gospel ; the nature of the undertaking, and of the 
 men ; the vast improbability that such men should engage in 
 such a measure, as a scheme ; their personal toils, dangers, 
 and sufferings in the cause ; their appropriation of their whole 
 time to the object ; the warm, and seemingly unaffected zeal 
 with which they profess their sincerity, exempt their memory 
 from the suspicion of imposture ; their conduct, as preachers 
 of the Gospel, was disinterested, noble and generous ; they 
 quitted house, land, occupation, friend, kindred, parent, wives, 
 children, country — every pursuit, and jevery endearment of 
 life, to propagate, with infinite labour, through innumerable 
 difficulties and dangers, the salvation of mankind, certain of 
 meeting, in every new region, with new enemies, and yet 
 requiring of those who, through their preaching, were become 
 friends and brethren, nothing but a bare subsistence, and 
 sometimes labouring even with their own hands, to save them 
 from that light and reasonable burthen ; disclaiming for 
 themselves all authority, pre-eminence and power, and teach- 
 ing that savage people, who took them for gods, that they 
 were men like themselves, and servants of that Being, to whom 
 alone worship was due. 
 
 It is related in the history, what indeed the story of the 
 resurrection necessarily implies, that the body was missed 
 out of the sepulchre ; it is related also in the history, that the 
 Jews reported the followers of Christ to have stolen it away ; 
 but says St. Paul, Christ did rise from the dead ; he was 
 seen of Cephas ; then of the twelve ; then of five hundred 
 brethren, of whom the greater part are still alive ; then of 
 James ; then of the apostles ; last, he was seen of me also, as 
 
ON THE RESURRECTION. 335 
 
 of one born out of due time. Now it is plain, whatever fraud 
 there was, St. Paul concurred in it ; he combined with others 
 for the promotion of a shameless falsehood ; and at the very 
 moment that he was preaching Christ as the Son of God, he 
 must have known, that the promises of Christ's re-appearance 
 w^ere completely frustrated, and every hope which had hitherto 
 supported the courage of his disciples, dissolved into air. 
 Yet this was the man who was in labours more abundant, in 
 stripes above measure, in prisons more frequent, in deaths 
 often ; thrice was this man beaten with rods ; once was he 
 stoned ; three times did he suffer shipwreck ; a night, and a 
 day, was he in the deep ; God (he declares) had sent forth 
 the apostles, appointed unto death ; we are, says he, a spec- 
 tacle to the world: even unto this present hour, we both hun- 
 ger and thirst, and are naked and beaten, and have no certain 
 dwelling-place, and labour, working with our own hands ; 
 being reviled, we bless ; being persecuted, we suffer it; being 
 defamed, we entreat ; we are made the filth of the world, and 
 the refuse of all things, unto this day. This is one of those 
 who deceived the world with the story of Christ's resurrection 
 from the dead, and these the splendid objects which he pro- 
 posed to himself, by that deception. 
 
 I will produce only one more instance of his simple and 
 heroic courage in support of his imposture. It was necessary 
 for the good of the church, that St. Paul should go to Jeru- 
 salem ; and this, at a time, when it was quite certain, from 
 the various accounts brought from that city, that his destruc- 
 tion was intended ; his disciples are so much alarmed by the 
 magnitude of his danger, that they beseech him not to go ; 
 this is his answer, and in that answer, I request you to ex- 
 amine with all diligence, for those symptoms of false and 
 perjured imposture with which he is charged by his enemies. 
 ** What mean you, (he says,) to weep and break my heart, 
 for I am ready, not to be bound only, but to die at Jerusalem 
 for the name of Jesus. I go, not knowing the things that 
 shall befal me there, save that the Holy Ghost witnesseth in 
 every city that bonds and afflictions abide me ; but none of 
 these things move me, neither count I my life dear unto my- 
 self, so that I might finish my course with joy, and the ministry 
 which 1 have received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the Gos- 
 pel of the grace of God. I know that ye all, among whom I 
 have gone preaching the kingdom of God, shall see my face 
 no more, wherefore I take ycu all to record, that I am innocent 
 
336 ON THE RESURRECTION. 
 
 of the blood of all men ; I have not shunned to declare unto 
 you all the counsel of God ; neither for the space of three 
 years, have I ceased to warn every one, night and day, with 
 tears. I have coveted no man's silver, or gold, or apparel. 
 Ye yourselves know that these hands have often ministered 
 to my necessities, and to them that were with me ; I have 
 showed you that ye ought to support the weak, remembering 
 the words of the Lord Jesus, how he said, it is more blessed 
 to give than to receive ;" and when he had thus spoken, they 
 all wept, sorrowing for the words which he spake, that they 
 should see his face no more ; he did go to Jerusalem, he was 
 imprisoned, and beaten with rods ; his speech declares his 
 former sufferings, which we know from other sources to be 
 true ; his subsequent misfortunes were as great, his whole 
 life was a continued series of affliction and persecution, not 
 accidentally incurred, but clearly foreseen, bravely met, and 
 patiently endured ; bravely met, and patiently endured, be- 
 cause he had seen Christ risen from the dead, and was by that 
 miracle convinced that he was the Son of God ; if not, where 
 in any human history is there any conduct similar to that 
 evinced by the apostles ? in the ten thousand frauds which 
 have been exercised in the world, where is there any parallel 
 to this ? If Christ did not rise from the dead, their preaching 
 was vain, and they knew it to be vain ; why then did they 
 die for it ? why did they live in misery for it ? why did they 
 persevere in it, not in the jfirst warm and faithful moment of 
 conspiracy, but after years, after separation in different cor- 
 ners of the earth? (Questioned by different tribunals, awed by 
 different kings, these poor martyrs in the agonies of death, 
 all said, Jesus had risen from the grave ; that they had seen 
 him ; that he was their God ; that they would never disown 
 him, for he would give them immortal life, and not leave 
 them to perish in the grave ; and for what temporal purpose 
 could they say this ? To preach a pure and enhghtened mo- 
 rahty. A number of uneducated men, all concurring in a most 
 impudent falsehood, dedicating their lives to it, suffering, and 
 perishing for it, with no other assignable motive than to make 
 their fellow-creatures pious, charitable and just! Can the 
 whole world produce, besides, one single instance of so fraud- 
 ulent a conspiracy, for the mere purposes of morahty and 
 benevolence ? The friends of religion are surely entitled to 
 observe, in such an opinion, some faint symptoms of that 
 credulity so frequently and so unjustly objected to them. 
 
ON THE RESURRECTION. 837 
 
 Dismissing, then, this supposition of fraud, which is too 
 extravagant to deserve the attention bestowed upon it, let us 
 consider the charge of enthusiasm ; let us suppose that the 
 apostles, thoroughly persuaded of the truth of the resurrec- 
 tion, were deluded by their own heated minds ; that with 
 them, as with visionaries in general, a very slight proof, 
 coinciding with their enthusiastic notions, had the force of 
 perfect conviction. But upon the supposition of enthusiasm, 
 there occur two, or three questions, which it appears to be 
 quite impossible to answer: Was the body in the grave ? if it 
 was, how could they believe Christ to be risen from the dead? 
 if it was not, by whom was it removed ? If we admit, upon 
 the concurrent testimonies of all the histories, so much of the 
 account as states that the religion of Jesus was set up at 
 Jerusalem, and set up with asserting, a few days after he was 
 buried, his resurrection from the grave, it is evident the Jews 
 would have produced it as the shortest, the most complete 
 answer to the whole story ; the attempt of the apostle could 
 not have survived this answer for a single instant. If we 
 also admit, upon the authority of St. Matthew, that the Jews 
 were aware of the expectations of Christ's followers that he 
 would rise again, and that in consequence of this expectation, 
 the body was in marked and public custody, this argument 
 is of still greater force. Notwithstanding their precaution, 
 when the story of Christ's resurrection came forth as it im- 
 mediately did, when it was publicly asserted by his disciples, 
 and made the ground and basis of their preaching in his 
 name, and collecting followers to his rehgion, the Jews had not 
 the body to produce, but were obliged to meet the testimony 
 of the apostles by asserting that the body had been stolen ; a 
 supposition compatible enough with fraud, but certainly not 
 with enthusiasm. The very circumstance that Christianity 
 went on at all, that it did not completely terminate with the 
 death of our Saviour, is at once a decisive proof of the truth 
 of the resurrection. It was a point of time at which the truth 
 of the Christian religion was brought to the most rigid test, 
 for they had purposely involved it with this supernatural con- 
 dition, that the great author and founder of it should rise again 
 from the dead. Why was this added if their religion was 
 not true ? it was a difficulty which hardly any falsehood could 
 overcome ; and it is quite impossible to conceive why it was 
 made a criterion of the truth of a spurious religion ; but as it 
 was made the criterion of Christianity, it is still more difficult 
 3J> 
 
338 ON THE RESURRECTION. 
 
 to conceive, why it was not seized hold of by the inveterate 
 enemies of Christianity, finally and completely to exterminate 
 it. There is your prophet dead; there is his sepulchre ; there 
 is the lifeless body of him who, as you believe, had power to 
 call the dead from their graves ; he saved others, himself he 
 cannot save. Such an answer as this would for ever have 
 put an end to Christianity ; it is the answer which incipient 
 fanaticism and imposture have received, in every century of 
 the world, and which, in every instance with which we are 
 acquainted, has been found sufficiently powerful to strangle 
 them in their birth. If these means were never used, or if 
 being used they were powerless against the faith; if that faith 
 grew from hour to hour ; if it was propagated by men who 
 declared themselves wilhng, and who evinced themselves 
 able to endure every earthly affliction for Jesus whom they 
 had seen rising from his tomb ; if that faith was adopted, not 
 by cold hearts at distant ages, but by men of that time, who 
 might have heard the groans of Jesus, and looked upon his 
 blood ; if the voluptuous Asiatic yielded up to it the pleasures 
 of the flesh ; if the Roman saw that his chains could not scare 
 it, nor his sceptre rule it, nor his gods thunder it away ; if, 
 curbing every lust, and inspiring every virtue, it crept into 
 all men's hearts, and the earth with all its kingdoms, princi- 
 pahties and powers ; and prayed aloud to the mangled Jesus; 
 then, indeed, are we bound to beheve that the grave held him 
 not ; then we are sure that there is another life than this ; that 
 we also shall rise from our graves to glory or to sorrow, as we 
 have gratefully remembered his resurrection, and accurately 
 imitated his life. 
 
SERMON L. 
 
 ON SEDUCTION. 
 
 The way of the wicked seduceth them. — Proverbs xii. verse 16. 
 
 I INTEND in my present discourse to treat on the seduction 
 of the lower class of females in this town ; an evil, which has 
 arisen to a very alarming height, and which menaces, with 
 utter corruption, the morals of one of the best and wisest na- 
 tions in Europe. I have no scruple to attribute this calamity 
 to the profligacy of men in a superior situation of life, and to 
 such I principally mean to apply my observations on this 
 subject. 
 
 It is so much the custom to confine ourselves to generalities 
 in the pulpit, and to direct the force of evangelical prohibition 
 against sin in general, rather than any particular species of 
 it, that it may be necessary to remind you how much we gain 
 in precision, and how much we communicate of interest by this 
 abatement of dignity and circumscription. The reasoning 
 which applies to all crimes, acts languidly against each indi- 
 vidual crime ; it does not paint the appropriate baseness, or 
 echo the reproaches of the heart. — Our Saviour has signified 
 to us his commandments clearly, but generally, and it must 
 therefore be our care to point them at the fluctuating vices 
 of the times ; if he has said, do no evil, and love thy neighbour 
 as thyself, it is our duty to state to mankind an instance, in 
 which they are guilty of an irreparable evil to their fellow- 
 creatures, and in which they are entailing endless destruction 
 upon the most unprotected of the human race. 
 
 Among the far greater number who resort here for the pur- 
 poses of real devotion, there may be a few who, led to this 
 sacred place by habit, or a principle of conformity, would be 
 glad to convert their listlessness into mirth, and to catch from 
 
340 ON SEDUCTION. 
 
 my lips some indiscretion, which would justify a moment of 
 shallow pleasantry ; this, God helping, they shall not do ; but 
 they shall hear me pleading for the happiness of undefended 
 women, pouring forth for all this church their honest indig- 
 nation, and hurling the damnation of God on base, brutal, 
 sensual seducers. 
 
 First, The character of a seducer is base and dishonourable ; 
 if deceit is banished from among equals ; if the conduct of 
 every man to those of his own station of life, should be marked 
 by veracity and good faith ; why are fallacy and falsehood 
 justified, because they are exercised by talents against igno- 
 rance, cunning against simplicity, power against weakness, 
 opulence against poverty ? No man ever lured a wretched 
 creature to her ruin, without such a complication of infamous 
 falsehoods as would have condemned him to everlasting in- 
 famy, had they been exercised to the prejudice of any one in 
 an higher scene of life ; and what must the depravity of that 
 man be who has no other criterion of what he shall do, or 
 from what he shall abstain, than impunity ? who has no love 
 of truth, but only a dread of the infamy consequent upon 
 falsehood ? and who, as often as he believes that the eye of the 
 world is not turned upon him, will descend to the meanest lies 
 to gratify the foulest vices ? A seducer of this class owes his 
 escape from infamy to the inconsistency of his conduct in dif- 
 ferent situations; it is not believed by the better half of the world, 
 that a man of unimpeached integrity in his own walk of life, 
 who never deviates from truth, and who would repel, at the 
 risk of his life, the imputation of falsehood, it is not believed 
 that such a man can stoop to the most disgraceful subterfuge 
 Avhere he has no equal to awe him into better faith ; and that 
 his real object is to unite the gratifications of vice to the con- 
 venience arising from the reputation for moral worth. — What 
 a dignified occupation this, for a gentleman, a scholar and a 
 Christian, to blind the understanding of an ignorant creature 
 with specious sophistry, to inflame her vanity, to weaken her 
 distinctions between right and wrong ; to give her a distaste 
 for honest industry, and to lead her, by imperceptible grada- 
 tions, to guilt, to ruin and to sorrow ; how must such a man 
 despise himself in the midst of all his artifices ? What shame 
 must he feel, to find himself scattering the principles of vice 
 and misery, and breaking down every barrier which the good 
 and wise have reared against the passions ? What human 
 being, not arrived at the last stage of profligacy, has not suf- 
 
ON SEDUCTION. 
 
 a^ 
 
 fered the bitterest reproaches of his own heart for these crimes, 
 and envied in the good, the safe and tranquil feehngs of in- 
 flexible virtue ? 
 
 The friends of human happiness must contrast with pain, 
 the hard-earned progress of moral order, and the irresistible 
 inroads of the passions; the one struggles against a strong 
 current, where a momentary remission from labour loses the 
 space which a long toil has gained ; the other glides down a 
 torrent which art can make stronger, though nature has made 
 it impetuous. The more we contemplate this world, the 
 greater does the necessity appear for the active vigilance of 
 virtue and wisdom ; it has cost whole ages to bring the earth 
 to its present appearance, and to render it fit for culture ; mil- 
 lions of our fathers, now dust and ashes, chained up the wild 
 waters, prevailed over the furious beasts, rooted up the forests, 
 let in the heat and hght on the green herb, and gave shape 
 and plenty to that which was without form, and void ; in a 
 few years of plague, or war, the creatures of the forest would 
 resume their former dominion, and the earth would relapse 
 into its ancient horrid silence ; so with our minds as our fields ; 
 moral law and government have been built under the revela- 
 tion of God, by the arts, the eloquence and the wisdom of 
 mighty men ; but the worst and lowest of human beings can 
 destroy them, and let loose from their prison all the primitive 
 horrors of savage life; these are melancholy reflections, and 
 they augment the painful indignation we feel at seduction ; 
 it is not for the miserable victim alone we grieve ; but for the 
 waste of parental aftection; the fruitless exertions which have 
 been bestowed on early years, to infuse into an human mind 
 the love of virtue, and an horror of every evil action ; we 
 sympathize with the poor industrious parents of a misguided 
 child more than if her seducer had robbed them of their pos- 
 sessions ; they have deprived themselves of clothing and food, 
 and often endured the cold, and made their meal more scanty, 
 that they might procure for this child the blessing of a little 
 knowledge ; it appears trifling to dwell on such details, but 
 they are the happiness and misery of milhons of humble peo- 
 ple; everybody knows the anxiety with which the poorest 
 people send forth, for the first time, a daughter into the world; 
 the efforts which they make to supply the loss of her natural 
 protectors, and to fortify her with every good principle which 
 rustic piety and prudence could suggest ; perhaps proud of 
 her appearance ; perhaps soothing ihemselv^es with the notion 
 
 29* 
 
34^ ON SEDUCTION. 
 
 that she might contribute something to the support of their 
 dechning years. To ruin and corrupt this innocence, is an 
 outrage which the levity even of youth cannot carry off in 
 ridicule ; which leaves a young man covered with infamy 
 and guih, and the imputation of the basest cruelty. With 
 what feehngs can he face the just indignations of those into 
 whose humble dwelling he has carried misery and tears ; to 
 whom he has laid open the prospect of beholding their daugh- 
 ter the wickedest and most abandoned of human creatures ; 
 whose noble pride of adorning poverty with virtue, he has 
 frustrated and mocked ? Is it to be borne, that the welfare of 
 human beings should be thus sported with, that the religious 
 and moral principles inspired into the poor with such difficult 
 attention, should be sacrificed to the basest passions of the 
 vilest men, and that any human being should exercise, un- 
 punished, the power of infusing fresh bitterness into the cup 
 of poverty ? 1 know the contempt with which such sort of 
 feehngs are apt to be received ; but there is a right and a 
 wrong in human affairs, whose irresistible power breaks 
 through every barrier, and makes the heart confess while 
 the looks defy and the tongue denies ; there never was a 
 libertine whose soul did not sink within him at the sight of 
 the wretched creature whom he had ruined, who did not 
 know, that he was followed by the curses and the condemna- 
 tion of every upright man, and that the vengeance of the Al- 
 mighty was lowering over his head. 
 
 To the cruelty of seduction, is generally added the base- 
 ness of abandoning its object, of leaving to perish in rags and 
 hunger, a miserable being bribed by promises and oaths of 
 eternal protection and regard. Now let us be just even to 
 sinners ; just do I say ; let us be merciful in the midst of 
 horror, for their crimes ; let us fix before our eyes every cir- 
 cumstance that can extenuate ; let us place by the side of the 
 guilt the temptation, and try them as we hope to be tried 
 in a perilous day, by the Great Judge of all ; let us allow all 
 the indulgence to youth which youth can require ; still if we 
 excuse the errors, we have a right to expect the virtues of 
 that period of life ; if the accused party plead the perilous 
 situation in which he is placed, and seizes on all the palliation 
 which that situation can supply, we have a right at least to 
 ask if he has done all the good which that .situation prompted : 
 a man may say that his youth excuses him for this vice ; but 
 does his youth prompt him to starve a woman he has ruined. 
 
ON SEDUCTION. 343 
 
 If his youth made him susceptible of beauty, did it also make 
 him forgetful of weakness ? was it youth that taught him to 
 fly from a wretched creature for fear she should ask him for 
 bread ? Does youth unite fervour with meanness ? does it, 
 without a single compensatory virtue, combine its own vices 
 with the vices of every other period of life ? is it at once violent, 
 and sordid, avaricious and impassioned, the slave of every 
 other feehng, and the master of generous compassion alone ? 
 This is not youth ; it has nothing to do with the origin of life ; 
 it is cold and callous profligacy began in brutal passion, fos- 
 tered by irreligion, strengthened by association with bad men, 
 and become so hardened, that it laughs at the misery which 
 it creates. 
 
 If I were to show you in this church the figure of a 
 wretched woman, a brutal, shameless creature clothed in rags, 
 pale with hunger and mouldering with disease ; if I were to 
 tell you that she had been once happy and once good, that 
 she once had that chance of eternal salvation which we all 
 have this day: if I were to show you the man who had 
 doomed her to misery in this world, and to hell in the world 
 to come, what would your feelings be ? But if I were to tell 
 you that the constant occupation of this man was to search 
 for innocence and to ruin it, that he was a seducer by profes- 
 sion, that the great object for which he existed was to gratify 
 his infamous passions at every expense of human happiness ; 
 would you not say that his life was too bad for the mercy of 
 God ? If the earth was to yawn for him as it yawned for 
 Dathan and Abiram, is there one eye that would be lifted 
 up to ask forgiveness for his soul? 
 
 The crime of seduction has this in it of aggravaJ;ion over 
 other crimes, that it cannot be defended under any of the in- 
 genious systems by which men are perpetually vitiating their 
 understandings, and defending the painful perspicuity of the 
 law of Christ : all the arrogance of theoretical reasoners upon 
 morals has never extended so far as to assert that any one 
 human being has the right to make others as miserable as he 
 pleases ; some men have sided with Christ and some with 
 the reasoners of this world: some have said that the Deity 
 was everywhere, and that he guided all ; others have con- 
 tended that he took no care of this world ; and the fool has 
 said in his heart, there is no God ; but all have said, it is bad 
 to rob and plunder; all have taught us to respect human 
 happiness ; all have cursed the oppressor and the maker of 
 
344 ON SEDUCTION. 
 
 lamentations and tears; this load of solid substantive guilt 
 no human ingenuity, no dissipation, no prosperity can shake 
 off; the eternal laws of nature which regulate growth, and 
 motion, and decay, have fixed also the everlasting empire of 
 conscience ; her voice you shall hear in the time of sickness 
 and of pain ; it shall follow you to the bed of death ; it shall 
 go down with you to the tomb ; it shall rise up with you to 
 the resurrection ; it shall descend with you to the bottomless 
 pit. 
 
 I would not wish to make the character of a seducer worse 
 than it is, perhaps I could not if I did wish ; but I would 
 ask these ruiners of the lower class of females, if a great part 
 of their infamous conduct is not to be attributed to impunity? 
 Does it never come into their minds, in the course of their dis- 
 graceful, ungentlemanly conduct, that they have nothing to 
 fear from the sword of a brother or a father pointed at their 
 throats; that the object of their designs is without protectors, or 
 with protectors of so low a stamp that their indignation would 
 excite ridicule rather than apprehension; put this kind of feel- 
 ing into language and see what it means : it says thus to a fel- 
 low-creature, I know you are poor, and because you are poor 
 you are helpless, and 1 will oppress you ; from your indigna- 
 tion at the ruin of your child, my rank protects me, and I may 
 pretend to despise what I should fear to oppose ; to the laws 
 of your country you have neither wealth nor knowledge to 
 appeal, and your illiterate story of your own injuries can 
 never attract attention. Is there any human being who 
 dares openly to express these sentiments ? is it possible to view 
 the conduct of such men as I have been describing, and not 
 be convinced that by such sentiments their conduct must be 
 swayed ? or do we think that tenderness to the reputation of 
 a daughter is a mere refinement of education, a privilege, or 
 perhaps a weakness of opulence and rank? if so, go to the 
 meanest of human beings and bargain with him for the dis- 
 honour of his child ; offer to him ease and plenty ; if this will 
 not do, bribe him with all that luxury can give, and see if 
 the proudest monarch would repulse you with fiercer disdain 
 and more decided contempt. 
 
 If I have been too warm in my animadversions on this 
 crime, ascribe such warmth to its real cause ; a rooted anxiety 
 to do good. The conscience of young men is seldom so 
 hardened as to be proof against remorse ; they are seldom 
 desperately and irrecoverably wicked ; but while they do 
 
ON SEDrCTION. 345 
 
 wrong they repent, and their lives roll on to maturity amid 
 the gratifications of sin and the bitterness of self-reproach ; 
 how blessed is he above his fellows who arrives at the middle 
 period of human existence ungoaded by the remembrance of 
 great and irreparable crimes ; for whose profligacy no child 
 need to blush ; on whose account no wretched woman sits at the 
 gate of her seducer crying for bread. Therefore, on account 
 of these sad things, while you are yet young, remember the 
 time of old age ; remember what a thing it is to destroy puritj?- 
 of heart ; — and if you do chance to meet with an innocent and 
 unprotected woman whom you might, perhaps, have art 
 enough to ruin and degrade, hear the voice of compassion, 
 and lead her not into the paths of death. The memory of 
 this good deed shall cheer you in many an arduous struggle ; 
 shall make you dear to your own soul ; shall give you the 
 feehngs of angels in this life, and their rewards in a life to 
 come. 
 
A FRAGMENT 
 
 ox THE 
 
 IRISH ROMAN CATHOLIC 
 CHURCH. 
 
PEEEACE. 
 
 The following unrevised fragment, found among the 
 papers of the late Rev. Sydney Smith, if it serve no 
 other purpose, will at least prove that his last, as well 
 as his earliest efforts, were exerted for the promotion of 
 religious freedom, and may satisfy those who have ob- 
 jected to his later writings, because his own interest 
 appeared to be bound up with his opinions, that he did 
 not hesitate to the last moment of his life, boldly to advo- 
 cate what he considered to be justice to others. 
 
 April, 1845. 
 
 30 
 
Pnvate Memoranda of Subjects intended to have been introduced in 
 the Pamphlet, Sfc. 
 
 Debates in the House of Commons in 1825^ on the motion of Lord 
 F. Egerton, for the support of the Roiyian Catholic clergy. Printed 
 separately, I believe, in Ireland. 
 
 Evidence before the House of Commons in 1824 and 1825, includ- 
 ing Doyle's. 
 
 A Speech of Charles Grant's in 1819, on a motion of James Daly 
 to enforce the Insurrection Act. 
 
 Debates on Maynooth, in February last, (1844.) 
 
 Hard case of the priest's first year. 
 
 Provision offered by Pitt and Castlereagh, and accepted by the 
 hierarchy. 
 
 * Send ambassadors to Constantinople, and refuse to send them to 
 Rome. 
 
 England should cast off its connection with the Irish Church. 
 Lord F. Egerton's plan for paying the Roman Catholic clergy in 
 1825. The prelates agree to take the money. 
 
 * Old mode of governing by Protestants at an end. 
 
 ^ Vast improvements since the Union, and fully specified in Mar- 
 tin, page 35. 
 
 * Priests dare not thwart the people, for fear of losing money. 
 
 * Dreadful oppression of the people. 
 
 * Bishops dare not enforce their rules. They must have money. 
 
 * These subjects are treated of in the Fragment, 
 
A FRAGMENT 
 
 ON 
 
 THE IRISH HOMAN CATHOLIC 
 CHURCH. 
 
 The revenue of the Irish Roman Catholic Church is made 
 up of half-pence, potatoes, rags, hones, and fragments of old 
 clothes, and those Irish old clothes. They worship often in 
 hovels, or in the open air, from the want of any place of wor- 
 ship. Their religion is the religion of three-fourths of the 
 population ! Not far off, in a well-windowed and well-roofed 
 house, is a well-paid Protestant clergyman, preaching to stools 
 and hassocks, and crying in the wilderness ; near him the 
 clerk, near him the sexton, near him the sexton's wife — furi- 
 ous against the errors of Popery, and willing to lay down 
 their lives for the great truths established at the Diet of Augs- 
 burg. 
 
 There is a story in the Leinster family which passes under 
 the name of 
 
 ''''She is not welV 
 
 A Protestant clergyman, whose church w£is in the neighbour- 
 hood, was a guest at the house of that upright and excellent 
 man, the Duke of Leinster. He had been staying there three 
 or four days ; and on Saturday night, as they were all retiring 
 to their rooms, the duke said, " We shall meet to-morrow at 
 breakfast." — " Not so (said our Milesian Protestant) ; your 
 hour, my lord, is a little too late for me; I am very particular 
 in the discharge of my duty, and your breakfast will inter- 
 fere with my church." The duke was pleased with the very 
 proper excuses of his guest, and they separated for the night; 
 — his grace perhaps deeming his palace more safe from all 
 the evils of life for containing in its bosom such an exemplary 
 
352 A FRAGMENT ON THE 
 
 son of the Church. The first person, however, whom the 
 duke saw in the morning upon entering the breakfast-room 
 was our punctual Protestant, deep in rolls and butter, his fin- 
 ger in an egg^ and a large slice of the best Tipperary ham 
 secured on his plate. " Dehghted to see you, my dear vicar,'* 
 said the duke ; " but I may say as much surprised as de- 
 lighted." — " Oh, don't you know what has happened?" said 
 the sacred breakfaster, — "sAe is not well,'''' — " Who is not 
 well ?" said the duke : " you are not married — you have no 
 sister Hving— I'm quite uneasy ; tell me who is not well." — 
 "Why the fact is, my lord duke, that my congregation con- 
 sists of the clerk, the sexton, and the sexton's wife. Now the 
 sexton's wife is in very delicate health : when she cannot 
 attend, we cannot muster the number mentioned in the rubric; 
 and we have, therefore, no service on that day. The good 
 woman had a cold and sore throat this morning, and, as I had 
 breakfasted but sHghtly, I thought I might as well hurry back 
 to the regular family dejeuner." I don't know that the clergy- 
 man behaved improperly ; but such a church is hardly worth 
 an insurrection and civil war every ten years. 
 
 Sir Robert did well in fighting it out with O'Connell. He 
 was too late ; but when he began he did it boldly and sensi- 
 bly, and I, for one, am heartily glad O'Connell has been found 
 guilty and imprisoned. He was either in earnest about Re- 
 peal or he was not. If he was in earnest, I entirely agree 
 with Lord Grey and Lord Spencer, that civil war is preferable 
 to Repeal. Much as I hate wounds, dangers, privations, and 
 explosions — much as I love regular hours of dinner — foolish 
 as I think men 'covered with the feathers of the male Fullus 
 domesticus, and covered with lace in the course of the ischia- 
 tic nerve — much as I detest all these follies and ferocities, I 
 would rather turn soldier myself than acquiesce quietly in 
 such a separation of the empire. 
 
 It is such a piece of nonsense, that no man can have any 
 reverence for himself who would stop to discuss such a ques- 
 tion. It is such a piece of anti-British villainy, that none but 
 the bitterest enemy of our blood and people could entertain 
 such a project! It is to be met only with round and grape — 
 to be answered by Shrapnel and Congreve ; to be discussed 
 in hollow squares, and refuted by battalions four deep ; to be 
 put down by the ultima ratio of that armed Aristotle, the Duke 
 of Wellington. 
 
 O'Connell is released ; and released I have no doubt by tho 
 
IRISH ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCH. 353 
 
 conscientious decision of the law lords. If he was unjustly 
 (even from some technical defect) imprisoned, I rejoice in his 
 liberation. England is, I believe, the only country in the 
 world where such an event could have happened, and a wise 
 Irishman (if there be a wise Irishman) should be slow in 
 separating from a country whose spirit can produce, and 
 whose institutions can admit, of such a result. Of his guilt 
 no one doubts, but guilty men must be hung technically and 
 according to established rules ; upon a statutable gibbet, with 
 parliament rope, and a legal hangman, sheriff, and chaplain 
 on the scaffold, and the mob in the foreground. 
 
 But, after all, I have no desire my dear Daniel should come 
 to any harm, for I believe there is a great deal of virtue and 
 excellent meaning in him, and I must now beg a few minutes 
 conversation with him. "After all, my dear Daniel, what is 
 it j^ou want ? — a separation of the two countries ? — for what 
 purpose ? — for your own aggrandizement ? — for the gratifica- 
 tion of your personal vanity ? You don't know yourself; you 
 are much too honourable and moral a man, and too clear- 
 sighted a person for such a business as this : the empire will 
 be twisted out of your hands by a set of cut-throat villains, 
 and you will die secretly by a poisoned potato, or be pistoled 
 in the streets. You have too much sense, and taste, and open- 
 ness, to endure for a session, the stupid and audacious 
 wickedness and nonsense of your associates. If you want 
 fame, you must be insatiable ! Who is so much known in 
 all Europe, or so much admired by honest men for the real 
 good you had done to your country, before this insane cry of 
 Repeal ? And don't imagine you can intimidate this govern- 
 ment ; whatever be their faults or merits, you may take my 
 word for it, you will not intimidate them. They will prose- 
 cute you again, and put down your Clontarf meetings, and 
 they will be quite right in doing so. They may make con- 
 cessions, and I think they will ; but they would fall into utter 
 contempt, if they allowed themselves to be terrified into a dis- 
 solution of the Union. They know full well that the English 
 nation are unanimous and resolute upon this point, and that 
 they would prefer war to a Repeal. And now, dear Daniel, 
 sit down quietly at Derrynane, and tell me, when the bodily 
 frame is refreshed with the wine of Bordeaux, whether all 
 this is worth while. What is the object of all government ? 
 The object of ail government is roast mutton, potatoes, claret, 
 a stout constable, an honest justice, a clear highway, a free 
 
 30* 
 
354 A FRAGMENT ON THE 
 
 chapel. What trash to he hawHng in the streets ahout the 
 Green Isle, the Isle of the Ocean ! the bold anthem of £rin 
 go bragh J A far better anthem would be Erin go bread and 
 cheese, Erin go cabins that will keep out the rain, Erin go 
 pantaloons without holes in them ! What folly to be making 
 eternal declamations about governing yourselves ! If laws 
 are good and well administered, is it worth while to rush into 
 war and rebellion, in order that no better laws may be made 
 in another place ? Are you an Eton boy, who has just come 
 out, full of Plutarch's Lives, and considering in every case 
 how Epaminondas or Philopcemen would have acted, or are 
 you our own dear Daniel, drilled in all the business and bustle 
 of Hfe ? I am with you heart and soul in my detestation of all 
 injustice done to Ireland. Your priests shall be fed and paid, 
 the liberties of your Church be scrupulously guarded, and in 
 civil affairs the most even justice be preserved between Catho- 
 lic and Protestant. Thus far I am a thorough rebel as weJl 
 as yourself; but when you come to the perilous nonsense of 
 Repeal, in common with every honest man who has five grains 
 of common sense, I take my leave." 
 
 It is entertaining enough, that although the Irish are begin- 
 ning to be so clamorous about making their own laws, that 
 the wisest and the best statutes in the books have been made 
 since their union with England. All Cathohc disabihties 
 have been abolished ; a good police has been established all 
 over the kingdom ; public courts of petty sessions have been 
 instituted ; free trade between Great Britain and Ireland has 
 been completely carried into effect ; lord lieutenants are placed 
 in every county; church rates are taken off CathoHc shoulders; 
 the county grand jury rooms are flung open to the pubhc ; 
 county surveyors are of great service ; a noble provision is 
 made for educating the people. I never saw a man who had 
 returned to Ireland after four or five years' absence, who did 
 not say how much it had improved, and how fast it was im- 
 proving; and this is the country which is to be Erin-go-bragh'd 
 by this shallow, vain, and irritable people into bloodshed and 
 rebelHon ! 
 
 The first thing to be done is to pay the priests, and after a 
 little time they will take the money. One man wants to re- 
 pair his cottage ; another wants a buggy; a third cannot shut 
 his eyes to the dilapidations of a cassock. The draft is pay- 
 able at sight in DubHn, or by agents in the next market town 
 dependent upon the commission in Dublin. The housekeeper 
 
IRISH ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCH. 355 
 
 of the holy man is importunate for money, and if it is not pro- 
 cured by drawing for the salary, it must be extorted by curses 
 and comminations from the ragged worshipers, slowly, sor- 
 rowfully, and sadly. There wiU be some opposition at first, 
 but the facility of getting the salary without the violence they 
 are now forced to use, and the difficulties to which they are 
 exposed in procuring the payment of those emoluments to 
 which they are fairly entitled, will, in the end, overcome all 
 obstacles. And if it does not succeed, what harm is done by 
 the attempt? It evinces on the part of this country the 
 strongest disposition to do what is just, and to apply the best 
 remedy to the greatest evil ; but the very attempt would do 
 good, and would be felt in the great Catholic insurrection, 
 come when it will. All rebellions and disaffections are gene- 
 ral and terrible in proportion as one party has suffered, and 
 the other inflicted ; — any great measure of conciliation, pro- 
 posed in the spirit of kindness, is remembered, and renders 
 war less terrible, and opens avenues to peace. 
 
 The Roman Catholic priest could not refuse to draw his 
 salary from the state without incurring the indignation of his 
 flock. " Why are you to come upon us for all this money, 
 when you can ride over to Sligo or Belfast, and draw a draft 
 upon government for the amount ?" It is not easy to give a 
 satisfactory answer to this, to a shrewd man who is starving 
 to death. 
 
 Of course, in talking of a government payment to the Ca- 
 tholic priest, I mean it should be done with the utmost fair- 
 ness and good faith ; no attempt to gain patronage, or to 
 make use of the pope as a stalking-horse for playing tricks. 
 Leave the patronage exactly as you find it ; and take the 
 greatest possible care that the Cathohc clergy have no reason 
 to suspect you in this particular; do it like a gentleman, 
 without shuffling and prevarication, or leave it alone altogether. 
 
 The most important step in improvement which mankind 
 ever made, was the secession from the see of Rome, and the 
 establishment of the Protestant religion ; but though I have 
 the sincerest admiration of the Protestant faith, I have no ad- 
 miration of Protestant hassocks on which there are no knees, 
 nor of seats on which there is no superincumbent Protestant 
 pressure, nor of whole acres of tenantless Protestant pews, in 
 which no human being of the 500 sects of Christians is ever 
 seen. I have no passion for sacred emptiness, or pious va- 
 cuity. The emoluments of those hvings in which there are 
 
356 A FRAGMENT ON THE 
 
 few or no Protestants, ought, after the death of the present 
 incumbents, to be appropriated in part to the uses of the pre- 
 dominant religion, or some arrangements made for superseding 
 such utterly useless ministers immediately, securing to them 
 the emoluments they possess. 
 
 Can any honest man say, that in parishes (as is the case 
 frequently in Ireland) containing 3000 or 4000 Catholics, and 
 40 or 50 Protestants, there is the smallest chance of the ma- 
 jority being converted ? Are not the Cathohcs (except in the 
 North of Ireland, where the great mass are Presbyterians) 
 gaining everywhere on the Protestants ? The tithes- were 
 originally possessed by the Catholic Church of Ireland. Not 
 one shiUing of them is now devoted to that purpose. An im- 
 mense majority of the common people are Catholics ; they see 
 a church richly supported by the spoils of their own church 
 estabhshments, in whose tenets not one tenth part of the peo- 
 ple believe. Is it possible to believe this can endure ? — that 
 a light, irritable, priest-ridden people will not, under such 
 circumstances, always remain at the very eve of rebeUion, 
 always ready to explode when the finger of Daniel touches 
 the hair trigger ? — for Daniel, be it said, though he hates 
 shedding blood in small quantities, has no objection to provok- 
 ing kindred nations to war. He very properly objects to 
 killing or being killed by Lord Alvanley ; but would urge on^' 
 ten thousand Pats in civil combat against ten thousand Bulls. 
 His objections are to small homicides ; and his vow that he 
 has registered in Heaven is only against retail destruction, 
 and murder by piecemeal. He does not like to teaze Satan 
 by driblets ; but to earn eternal torments by persuading eight 
 million Irish, and twelve million Britons no longer to buy 
 and sell oats and salt meat, but to butcher each other in God's 
 name to extermination. And what if Daniel dies, of what 
 use his death ? Does Daniel make the occasion, or does the 
 occasion make Daniel? — Daniels are made by the bigotry 
 and insolence of England to Ireland ; and till the monstrous 
 abuses of the Protestant Church in that country are rectified, 
 there will always be Daniels, and they will always come out 
 of their dens more powerful and more popular than when 
 you cast them in. 
 
 I do not mean by this unjustly and cowardly to run down 
 O'Connell. He has been of eminent service to his country 
 in the question of Catholic Emancipation, and I am by no 
 means satisfied that with the gratification of vanity there are 
 
IRISH ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCH. 357 
 
 not mingled genuine feelings of patriotism and a deep sense 
 of the injustice done to his country. His first success, how- 
 ever, flung him off his guard ; and perhaps he trusted too 
 much in the timidity of the present government, who are by 
 no means composed of irresolute or weak men. 
 
 If I thought Ireland quite safe, I should still object to in- 
 justice. I could never endure in silence that the CathoUc 
 Church of Ireland should be left in its present state ; but I 
 am afraid France and England can now afford to fight ; and 
 having saved a little money, they will, of course, spend it in 
 fighting. That puppy of the waves, young Joinville, will 
 steam over in a high-pressure fleet ! — and then comes an im- 
 mense twenty per cent, income-tax war, an universal insur- 
 rection in Ireland, and a crisis of misery and distress, in 
 which life will hardly be worth having. The struggle may 
 end in our favour, but it may not ; and the object of political 
 wisdom is to avoid these struggles. I want to see jolly Roman 
 Catholic priests secure of their income without any motive 
 for sedition or turbulence. I want to see Patricks at the 
 loom ; cotton and silk factories springing up in the bogs ; Ire- 
 land a rich, happy, quiet country ! — scribbhng, carding, 
 cleaning, and making cahco, as if mankind had only a few 
 days more allotted to them for making clothes, and were ever 
 after to remain stark naked. 
 
 Remember that between your impending and your past 
 wars with Ireland, there is this remarkable difference. You 
 have given up your Protestant auxiliaries ; the Protestants 
 enjoyed in all former disputes all the patronage of Ireland ; they 
 fought not only from rehgious hatred, but to preserve their 
 monopoly ; — that monopoly is gone; you have been candid and 
 just for thirty years, and have lost those friends whose swords 
 were always ready to defend the partiality of the government 
 and to stifle the cry of justice. The next war will not be 
 between Catholic and Protestant, but between Ireland and 
 England. 
 
 I have some belief in Sir Robert. He is a man of great 
 understanding, and must see that this eternal O'Connelling 
 will never do, that it is impossible it can last. We are in a 
 transition state, and the Tories may be assured that the ba- 
 ronet will not go too fast. If Peel tells them that the thing 
 must be done, they may be sure it is high time to do it ; — 
 they may retreat mournfully and sullenly before common 
 justice and common sense, but retreat they must when Tarn- 
 
358 A FRAGMENT ON THE 
 
 worth gives the word,— and in quick-step too, and without 
 loss of time. 
 
 And let me beg of my dear Ultras not to imagine that they 
 survive for a single instant without Sir Robert — that they 
 could form an ultra-tory administration. Is there a Chartist 
 in Great Britain who would not, upon the first intimation of 
 such an attempt, order a new suit of clothes, and call upon 
 the baker and milkman for an extended credit ? Is there a 
 political reasoner who would not come out of his hole with a 
 new constitution ? Is there one ravenous rogue who would 
 not be looking for his prey ? Is there one honest man of 
 common sense who does not see that universal disaffection 
 and civil war would follow from the blind fury, the childish 
 prejudices, and the deep ignorance of such a sect ? I have 
 a high opinion of Sir Pobert Peel, but he must summon up 
 all his political courage, and do something next session for 
 the payment of the Roman Catholic priests. He must run 
 some risk of shocking public opinion ; no greater risk, how- 
 ever, than he did in Catholic Emancipation. I am sure the 
 Whigs would be true to him, and I think I observe that 
 very many obtuse country gentlemen are alarmed by the 
 state of Ireland, and the hostihty of France and America. 
 
 Give what you please to the Catholic priests, habits are 
 not broken in a day. There must be time as well as justice, 
 but in the end these things have their effect. A buggy, a 
 house, some fields near it, a decent income paid quarterly ; 
 in the long run these are the cures of sedition and disaffec- 
 tion ; men don't quit the common business of life, and join 
 bitter political parties, unless they have something justly to^ 
 complain of. 
 
 But where is the money — about 400,000/. per annum — 
 to come from ? Out of the pockets of the best of men, Mr. 
 Thomas Grenville, out of the pockets of the bishops, of Sir 
 Robert Inglis, and all other men who pay all other taxes ; 
 and never will public money be so well and wisely em- 
 ployed ! 
 
 It turns out that there is no law to prevent entering into 
 diplomatic engagements with the pope. The sooner we be- 
 come acquainted with a gentleman who has so much to say 
 to eight miUions of our subjects, the better ! Can anything 
 be so childish and absurd as a horror of communicating with 
 the pope, and all the hobgobhns we have imagined of pre- 
 munires and outlawries for this contraband trade in piety? _ 
 
IRISH ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCH. 359 
 
 Our ancestors (strange to say, wiser than ourselves), have left 
 us to do as we please, and the sooner government do what 
 they can do legally, the better. A thousand opportunities of 
 doing good in Irish affairs have been lost, from our having 
 no avowed and dignified agent at the Court of Rome. If it 
 depended upon me, I would send the Duke of Devonshire 
 there to-morrow, with nine chaplains and several tons of 
 Protestant theology. I have no love of popery, but the pope 
 is at all events better than the idol of Juggernaut, whose 
 chaplains I beheve we pay, and whose chariot I dare say is 
 made in Long Acre. We pay 10,000/. a year to our am- 
 bassador at Constantinople, and are startled with the idea of 
 communicating diplomatically with Rome, deeming the Sul- 
 tan a better Christian than the pope ! 
 
 The mode of exacting clerical dues in Ireland is quite 
 arbitrary and capricious. Uniformity is out of the question ; 
 everything depends on the disposition and temper of the 
 clergyman. There are salutary regulations put forth in each 
 diocese respecting church dues and church discipline, and 
 put forth by episcopal and synodical authority. Specific 
 sums are laid down for mass, marriage, and the administra- 
 tion of the Eucharist. These authorized payments are 
 moderate enough, but every priest, in spite of these rules, 
 makes the most he can of his ministry, and the strangest 
 discrepancy prevails, even in the same diocese, in the de- 
 mands made upon the people. The priest and his flock are 
 continually coming into collision on pecuniary matters. 
 Twice a year the holy man collects confession money under 
 the denomination of Christmas and Easter offerings. He 
 selects in every neighbourhood, one or two houses in which 
 he holds stations of confession. Very disagreeable scenes 
 take place when additional money is demanded, or whea 
 additional time for payment is craved. The first thing done 
 when there is a question of marrying a couple is, to make a 
 bargain about the marriage money. The wary minister 
 Avatches the palpitations, puts on a shiUing for every sigh, 
 and two-pence on every tear, and maddens the impetuosity 
 of the young lovers up to a pound sterling. The remunera- 
 tion prescribed by the diocesan statutes, is never thought of 
 for a moment ; the priest makes as hard a bargain as he can, 
 and the bed the poor peasants are to lie upon is sold, to make 
 their concubinage lawful ; — but every one present at the 
 marriage is to contribute j — the minister, after begging and 
 
360 A FRAGMENT ON THE 
 
 intreating some time to little purpose, gets into a violent rage, 
 abuses and is abused ; — and in this way is celebrated one of 
 the sacraments of the Catholic Church ! — The same scenes 
 of altercation and abuse take place when gossip money is 
 refused at baptisms ; but the most painful scenes take place 
 at extreme unction, a ceremony to which the common people in 
 Ireland attach the utmost importance. " Pay me beforehand 
 —this is not enough — I insist upon more, I know you can 
 afford it, I insist upon a larger fee '."—and all this before the 
 dying man, who feels he has not an hour to live ! and believes 
 that salvation depends upon the timely application of this 
 sacred grease. 
 
 Other bad consequences arise out of the present system of 
 Irish Church support. Many of the clergy are constantly 
 endeavouring to over-reach and undermine one another. 
 Every man looks to his own private emolument, regardless 
 of all covenants, expressed or implied. The curate does not 
 make a fair return to the parish priest, nor the parish priest 
 to the curate. There is an universal scramble !— every one 
 gets what he can, and seems to think he would be almost 
 justified in appropriating the whole to himself. And how 
 can all this be otherwise ? How are the poor wretched 
 clergy to live but by setting a high price on their theological 
 labours, and using every incentive of fear and superstition 
 to extort from six millions of beggars the little payments 
 wanted for the bodies of the poor, and the support of life ! I 
 maintain that it is shocking and wicked to leave the religious 
 guides of six millions of people in such a state of destitution ! 
 •—to bestow no more thought upon them than upon the clergy 
 of the Sandwich Islands ! If I were a member of the cabinet, 
 and met my colleagues once a week, to eat birds and beasts, 
 and to talk over the state of the world, I should begin upon 
 Ireland before the soup was finished, go on through fish, 
 turkey, and saddle of mutton, and never end till the last 
 thimbleful of claret had passed down the throat of the incre- 
 dulous Haddington : but there they sit, week after week ; 
 there they come, week after week ; the Piccadilly Mars, the 
 Scotch Neptune, Themis Lyndhurst, the Tamworth baronet, 
 dear Goody, and dearer Gladdy, and think no more of pay- 
 ing the Catholic clergy, than a man of real fashion does of 
 paying his tailor ! And there is no excuse for this in fana- 
 ticism. There is only one man in the cabinet who objects 
 from reasons purely fanatical, because the pope is the Scarlet 
 
IRISH ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCH. 361 
 
 Lady, or the Seventh Vial, or the Little Horn, All the rest 
 are entirely of opinion that it ought to be done- — that it is 
 the one thing needful ; but they are afraid of bishops, and 
 county meetings, newspapers, and pamphlets, and reviews ; 
 all fair enough objects of apprehension, but they must be 
 met, and encountered, and put down. It is impossible that 
 the subject can be much longer avoided, and that every year 
 is to produce a deadly struggle with the people, and a long 
 trial in time of peace with O' somebody, the patriot for the 
 time being, or the general, perhaps, in time of a foreign war. 
 If I were a bishop, hving beautifully in a state of serene 
 plenitude, I don't think I could endure the thought of so many 
 honest, pious, and laborious clergymen of another faith, 
 placed in such disgraceful circumstances ! I could not get 
 into my carriage with jelly-springs, or see my two courses 
 every day, without remembering the buggy and the bacon 
 of scMne poor old Catholic bishop, ten times as laborious, 
 and with much more, perhaps, of theological learning than 
 myself, often distressed for a few pounds ! and burthened 
 with duties utterly disproportioned to his age and strength. 
 I think, if the extreme comfort of my own condition did not 
 extinguish all feeling for others, I should sharply commise^ 
 rate such a church, and attempt with ardour and perseverance 
 to apply the proper remedy. Now let us bring names and 
 well-knowa scenes before the English reader, to give him a 
 clearer notion of what passes in Catholic Ireland. The living 
 of St. George's, Hanover Square, is a benefice of about 1500/. 
 per annum, and a good house. It is in the possession of 
 Dr. Hodgson, who is also Dean of Carlisle, worth, I believe, 
 about 1500/. more. A more comfortable existence can hardly 
 be conceived. Dr. Hodgson is a very worthy, amiable man, 
 and I am very glad he is as rich as he is : but suppose he 
 he had no revenues but what he got ofl' his own bat,-^sup- 
 pose that instead of tumbling through the skyhght, as his 
 income now does, it was procured by Catholic methods. 
 The Doctor tells Mr. Thompson he will not marry him to 
 Miss Simpson under 30/.; Thompson demurs, and endeavours 
 to beat him down. The Doctor sees Miss Simpson ; finds 
 her very pretty ; thinks Thompson hasty, and after a long 
 and undignified negotiation, the Doctor gets his fee. Soon 
 after this he receives a message from Place, the tailor, to 
 come and anoint him with extreme unction. He repairs to 
 the bed-side, and tells Mr. Place that he will not touch him 
 31 
 
362 A FRAGMENT ON THE 
 
 under a suit of clothes, equal to 10/.: the family resist, the 
 altercation goes on before the perishing artizan, the price is 
 reduced to 8/., and Mr. Place is oiled. On the ensuing 
 Sunday the child of Lord B. is to be christened : the god- 
 fathers and godmothers will only give a sovereign each ; the 
 Doctor refuses to do it for the money, and the church is a scene 
 of clamour and confusion. These are the scenes which, 
 under similar circumstances, would take place here, for the 
 congregation want the comforts of religion without fees, and 
 will cheat the clergyman if they can ; and the clergyman 
 who means to live, must meet all these artifices with stern 
 resistance. And this is the wretched state of the Irish Ro- 
 man CathoHc clergy ! — a miserable blot and stain on the 
 English nation ! What a blessing to this country would a 
 real bishop be ! A man who thought it the first duty of 
 Christianity to allay the bad passions of mankind, and to re- 
 concile contending sects with each other. What peace and 
 happiness such a man as the Bishop of London might have 
 conferred on the empire, if, instead of changing black dresses 
 for white dresses, and administering to the frivolous dis- 
 putes of foolish zealots, he had laboured to abate the hatred 
 of Protestants for the Roman CathoHcs, and had dedicated 
 his powerful understanding to promote religious peace in the 
 two countries. Scarcely any bishop is sufficiently a man of 
 the world to deal with fanatics. The way is not to reason 
 with them, but to ask them to dinner. They are armed 
 against logic and remonstrance, but they are puzzled in a 
 labyrinth of wines, disarmed by facihties and concessions, 
 introduced to a new world, come away thinking more of hot 
 and cold, and dry and sweet, than of Newman, Keble, and 
 Pusey. So mouldered away Hannibal's army at Capua ! 
 So the primitive and perpendicular prig of Puseyism is 
 softened into practical wisdom, and coaxed into common 
 sense ! Providence gives us generals, and admirals, and 
 chancellors of the exchequer ; but I never remember in 
 my time a real bishop — a grave, elderly man, full of Greek, 
 with sound views of the middle voice and preterperfect 
 tense, gentle and kind to his poor clergy, of powerful and 
 commanding eloquence ; in Parliament never to be put down 
 when the great interests of mankind were concerned ; leaning 
 to the government when it was right, leaning to the people 
 when they were right ; feeling that if the Spirit of God had 
 called him to that high office, he was called for no mean 
 
IRISH ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCH. 363 
 
 purpose, but rather that, seeing clearly, and acting boldly, 
 and intending purely, he might confer lasting benefits upon 
 mankind. 
 
 We consider the Irish clergy as factious, and as encourag- 
 ing the bad anti-British spirit of the people. How can it be 
 otherwise ? They live by the people ; they have nothing to 
 live upon but the voluntary oblations of the people ; and they 
 must fall into the same spirit as the people, or they would be 
 starved to death. No marriage ; no mortuary masses ; no 
 unctions to the priest who preached against O'Connell ! 
 
 Give the clergy a maintenance separate from the will of 
 the people, and you will then enable them to oppose the folly 
 and madness of the people. The objection to the state pro- 
 vision does not really come from the clergy, but from the agi- 
 tators and repealers : these men see the immense advantage 
 of carrying the clergy with them in their agitation, and of 
 giving the sanction of religion to political hatred ; they know 
 that the clergy, moving in the same direction with the people, 
 have an immense influence over them ; and they are very 
 wisely afraid, not only of losing this co-operating power, but 
 of seeing it, by a state provision, arrayed against them. I am 
 fully convinced that a state payment to the Catholic clergy, 
 by leaving to that laborious and useful body of men the exer- 
 cise of their free judgment, would be the severest blow that 
 Irish agitation could receive. 
 
 For advancing these opinions, I have no doubt I shall 
 be assailed by Sacerdos, Vindex, Latimer, Vates, Clericus, 
 Aruspex, and be called atheist, deist, democrat, smuggler, 
 poacher, highwayman. Unitarian, and Edinburgh reviewer ! 
 Still, / am in the right, — and what I say requires excuse for 
 being trite and obvious, not for being mischiev^ous and para- 
 doxical. I write for three reasons ; first, because I really 
 wish to do good ; secondly, because if I don't write, I know 
 nobody else will ; and thirdly, because it is the nature of the 
 animal to write, and I cannot help it. Still, in looking back 
 I see no reason to repent. What I have said ought to be 
 done, generally has been done, but always twenty or thirty 
 years too late ; done, not of course because I have said it, but 
 because it was no longer possible to avoid doing it. Human 
 beings cling to their delicious tyrannies, and to their exqui- 
 site nonsense, like a drunkard to his bottle, and go on till 
 death stares them in the face. The monstrous state of the 
 Catholic Church in Ireland will probably remain till some 
 
364 ,2^f!t*/ A FRAGMENT ON THE 
 
 monstrous i^uin threatens the very existence of the empire, 
 and Lambeth and Fulham are cursed by the affrighted peo- 
 ple. 
 
 I have always compared the Protestant church in Ireland 
 (and I believe my friend Thomas Moore stole the simile from 
 me) to the institution of butchers' shops in all the villages of 
 our Indian empire. " We will have a butcher's shop in every 
 village, and you, Hindoos, shall pay for it. We know that 
 many of you do not eat meat at all, and that the sight of beef 
 steaks is particularly offensive to you ; but still, a stray Eu- 
 ropean may pass through your village, and want a steak or 
 a chop : the shop shall be established ; and you shall pay for 
 it." This is English legislation for Ireland ! ! There is no 
 abuse like it in all Europe, in all Asia, in all the discovered 
 parts of Africa, and in all we have heard of Timbuctoo ! It 
 is an error that requires 20,000 armed men for its protection 
 in time of peace ; which costs more than a million a year ; 
 and which, in the first French war, in spite of the puffing 
 and panting of fighting steamers, will and must break out into 
 desperate rebellion. 
 
 It is commonly said, if the Roman Catholic priests are paid 
 by the state, they will lose their influence over their flocks ; — 
 not their/air influence — not that influence which any wise and 
 good man would wish to see in all religions — not the depend- 
 ence of humble ignorance upon prudence and piety — only 
 fellowship in faction, and fraternity in rebellion ; — all that 
 will be lost. A peep-of-day clergyman will no longer preach 
 to a peep-of-day congregation — a Whiteboy vicar will no 
 longer lead the psalm to Whiteboy vocalists ; but everything 
 that is good and wholesome will remain. This, however, is 
 not what the anti-British faction want ; they want all the ani- 
 mation which piety can breathe into sedition, and all the fury 
 which the priesthood can preach to diversity of faith: and 
 this is what they mean by a clergy losing their influence 
 over the people ! The less a clergyman exacts of his people, 
 the more his payments are kept out of sight, the less will be 
 the friction with which he exercises the functions of his office. 
 A poor Catholic may respect a priest the more who marries, 
 baptizes, and anoints ; but he respects him because he asso- 
 ciates with his name and character the performance of sacred 
 duties, not because he exacts heavy fees for doing so. Double 
 fees would be a very doubtful cure for skepticism ; and though 
 we have often seen the tenth of the earth's produce carted 
 
IRISH ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCH. 365 
 
 away for the benefit of the clergyman, we do not remember 
 any very Uvely marks of satisfaction and delight which it 
 produced in the countenance of the decimated person. I am 
 thoroughly convinced that state payments to the CathoHc 
 clergy would remove a thousand causes of hatred between 
 the priest and his flock, and would be as favourable to the 
 increase of his useful authority, as it would be fatal to his 
 factious influence over the people. 
 
 THE END. 
 
CP^S^; 
 
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