i,
 
 SERIES 
 
 OF 
 
 DISCOURSES, &c.
 
 A 
 
 SERIES 
 
 OF 
 
 DISCOURSES, 
 
 ON THE 
 
 PRINCIPLES OF RELIGIOUS BELIEF, 
 
 AS CONNECTED WITH 
 
 HUMAN HAPPINESS 
 
 AND 
 IMPROVEMENT. 
 
 BY 
 
 THE REV. R. MOREHEAD, A. M. 
 
 OF BALLIOL COLLEGE, OXFORD, JUNIOR MINISTER OF THE 
 EPISCOPAL CHAPEL, COWGATE, EDINBURGH. 
 
 EDINBURGH : 
 
 Printed by George Ramsay and Co. 
 
 FOR ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND COMPANY, EDINBURGH J 
 
 AND FOR CONSTABLE, HUNTER, PARK, & HUNTER, 
 
 LONDON. 
 
 1809.
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 TO 
 THE REVEREND 
 
 #M^ A, A ALISON, -''<'' 
 
 L. L. B. F. R. S. .LOND. AND EDItt. 
 
 fBEBENDARY OF SARUM, &C. &C. AND SENIOR MINISTER OF 
 THE EPISCOPAL CHAPEL, COWGATE,*EDINBURGH. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 I HAVE preached about philosophy and philoso- 
 phers, till I am tired of the very names; and t 
 of course, my congregation must be still more 
 tired than myself. There are people, however, 
 who may derive some benefit from reading upon 
 these subjects, which are in fact better adapted 
 for the closet than the pulpit ; and a reader pos- 
 sesses at least one advantage over a listener, 
 whenever he is wearied, he can take the liberty 
 to silence his instructor. 
 
 You were good-natured enough to give very un- 
 . merited praise to several of these discourses when 
 they were preached ; but 1 do not mean to impose 
 02
 
 VI 
 
 upon the public, by saying, that you recommend- 
 ed me to print them. Indeed you carry your 
 dislike to the publication of sermons somewhat 
 too Jar, othenvise the world would long ago 
 have been in possession of some, which probably 
 unite the utile and the dulce, mere than any 
 others which were ever written. 
 
 Should I fail in my "present attempt, it would 
 yet afford me some consolation, if you might 
 thence be induced to come forward in the great 
 cause of genuine Christianity, and to dissemi- 
 nate that instruction in morals and religion, 
 which you have already given with so much abi- 
 lity in Criticism and Taste. Achilles was roused^ 
 from his retreat when Patroclusfell. 
 
 At all events, I am happy in this opportu- 
 nity of expressing, my dear Sir, the high sense 
 which I entertain of your virtues and endow- 
 ments, and of subscribing myself, your faithful 
 Colleague, and affectionate Friend, 
 
 ROB. MOREHEAD,
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 AT has been my design, in the following 
 discourses, to exhibit a view both of the 
 evidences and the effects of religious 
 belief, somewhat more simple and popu- 
 lar than has usually been attempted ; and 
 without fatiguing the reader with contro- 
 versy, or overwhelming him with facts, 
 to fix his attention upon those great prin- 
 ciples, both in the Constitution of Man, 
 and in the visible administration of Pro- 
 vidence, that seem to lead most directly 
 to a sense of the truth and the benefits of 
 religion.
 
 Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 
 Much has been written, both recently 
 
 and in older times, upon this most im- 
 portant of all subjects; and the grounds 
 of our faith have been vindicated by 
 many eminent divines and philosophers, 
 with a force of reasoning and an extent 
 of learning, to which nothing, it is pro- 
 bable, can now be added or replied. 
 These profound and argumentative wri- 
 ters, however, are not always intelligible, 
 and are but rarely attractive, to the mul- 
 titude whom they would reclaim from 
 error; and vainly multiply their proofs 
 and refutations, to an audience whom 
 they have not engaged to be attentive. 
 
 To me it has always appeared, that 
 the greater part of those who are indif- 
 ferent to the truths of religion, have been 
 left in this state rather through an indo-
 
 PREFACE. IX 
 
 lent misapprehension of its true nature 
 and general foundations, than from the 
 effect of any positive error, or false creed 
 of philosophy. Controversy, or formal 
 argument, therefore, will have but little 
 effect upon them ; and their cure is to 
 be effected, not by topical applications of 
 detailed proof) or special refutation, but 
 by the general tonics of more enlightened 
 and comprehensive views, as to the na- 
 ture of man and of the universe, argu- 
 ments that point out the connection and 
 consonancy between religion and all that 
 we know or feel of existence, and re- 
 flections which tend to cultivate those 
 dispositions which lay the foundations of 
 religious belief, not only^in our under- 
 standing, but our affections.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 It has sometimes appeared to me also, 
 that many of our orthodox writers have 
 assumed too severe and contemptuous a 
 tone towards those whom they laboured 
 to convert ; and have employed a certain 
 haughty sternness of manner, which is not 
 perhaps altogether suitable to the mild- 
 ness of the gospel of peace, and which 
 has at any rate an obvious tendency to 
 indispose many from listening to their in- 
 structions. The antagonists of religion, 
 accordingly, have not failed to take ad- 
 vantage of these errors ; and have spared 
 no pains to render their productions 
 smooth, easy, and agreeable. " Fas est et 
 ab hoste doceri ;" and there really seems 
 to be no reason why the children of this 
 world should always be wiser in their ge-. 
 neration, than the children of light !
 
 PREFACE. XI 
 
 Such is the object of these discourses : 
 of the execution the public must judge. 
 I have ventured to give them the title of 
 M a series ;" because, though they were 
 written at different times, and without 
 any precise view to their present arrange- 
 ment, they seem to have such a mutual 
 coherence and dependency, as to be read 
 with advantage in the order in which they 
 now stand. At all events, it is hoped, 
 they will appear to possess at least that 
 " uniformity of thought and design which 
 (to use the words of the admirable But- 
 ler,) will always be found in the writings 
 of the same person, when he writes with 
 simplicity, and in earnest" 
 
 R. M. 
 
 EDINBURGH, 7 
 1 7th Decent her, 1 808. J
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 SERMON I. * 
 
 On the Character of Religion. 
 
 I, KINGS, xix. 12. 
 And after the fire, a still small voice. ... Page 1 
 
 SERMON II. 
 On the Character of Scripture. 
 
 Sx JOHN, v. 39. 
 Search the Scriptures. .........16 
 
 SERMON III. 
 
 On the Character of Wisdom. 
 
 PROV. xvii. 24. 
 
 Wisdom is before him that hath understanding, but the 
 eyes of a fool are in the ends of the earth. - - 32 
 
 SERMON IV. 
 On the Character of Faith. 
 
 ST JOHN, xx. 29. 
 
 Jesus saith unto him, Thomas, because thou hast seen me, 
 thou hast believed ; blessed are they that have not seen, 
 and yet have believed. - .......43
 
 XIV CONTENTS. 
 
 SERMON V. 
 
 On Natural Religion. 
 
 JOHN., xiv. 8. 
 
 Philip saith unto him, Lord, shew us the Father, and it 
 sufficeth us. ---------- Page 64 
 
 SERMON VI. 
 
 On Revealed Religion. 
 
 JOHN, xiv. 9. 
 
 Jesus saith unto him, have I been so long time with you, 
 and yet hast thou not known me, Philip ? He that 
 hath seen me hath seen the Father; and how sayest 
 thou, then, shew us the Father. - - - - - 79 
 
 SERMON VII. 
 
 The Nativity of Christ. 
 
 MATTHEW, ii. 11. 
 
 And when they were entered into the house, they saw the 
 young child, with Mary his mother. - - _ . 96 
 
 SERMON VIII. 
 On Man as a Rational and Moral Being. 
 
 JOB, xxxii. 8. 
 
 But there is a spirit in man, and the inspiration of the 
 Almighty giveth them understanding. - - - 113 
 
 SERMON IX. 
 
 On Man as a Religious Being, 
 
 JOB, xxxii. 8. 
 
 But there is a spirit in man, and the inspiration of th* 
 Almighty $iYth tbeja underloading* .... 127
 
 COXTEtfTS. XV 
 
 SERMON X. 
 
 Proofs of Immortality from Reason. 
 
 II. TIM. i. 10. 
 
 And hath brought life and i mortality to light through 
 the gospel. ---.*,... Page 146 
 
 SERMON XI. 
 
 Proofs of Immortality from Revelation. 
 
 II. Tijt. i. 10. 
 
 And hath brought life and imr/ I'tolity to light through 
 the gospel. *.......... 160 
 
 SERMON XII. 
 On the Resurrection of the Dead. 
 
 EZEKIEL, ..xxvii. 3. 
 
 And he said unto me, Son of man, can these bones lire ? 
 And I answered, O Lord God. thou knowest 17f 
 
 SERMON XIII. 
 
 The Temporal Advantages of Christianity, 
 
 EPHESIANS, tv. 8. 
 
 Wherefore he saith, when he ascended up on high, he led 
 captivity captive, and gave gifts unto men. . . 193 
 
 SERMON XIV. 
 
 The Superior Importance of Moral Duties. 
 
 MATTHEW, ix. 13. 
 
 But go ye, and learn what that meaneth ; I will hat* 
 piercy, and not sacrifice 208
 
 XVI CONTENTS. 
 
 SERMON XV. 
 
 Connection of Morality and Religion. 
 
 HEBREWS, x. 38. 
 Now the just shall live by faith. .... Page 222 
 
 SERMON XVI. 
 
 The same subject Illustrated by the Character 
 of the Good Centurion. 
 
 MATTHEW, viii. 8. 
 
 The centurion answered and said, Lord, I am not wor- 
 thy that thou shouldst come under my roof ; but speak 
 the word only, and my servant shall be healed. 236 
 
 SERMON XVII.' 
 
 On Christian Charity, as it Influences our 
 Judgments of each other. 
 
 MATTHEW, vii. 1. 
 Judge not, that ye be not judged. - - - - - 253 
 
 SERMON XVIII. 
 
 On Christian Charity, as it Influences Conduct. 
 
 ST JOHN, xiii. 34. 
 
 A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one 
 another. : iqii^DnsuK-e^f .a -; '&. ^j ; ii- ^4 '*'>* 270 
 
 SERMON XIX. 
 
 On the Lessons to be Learned from the Afflic- 
 
 EcCLEslASTES, Vii. 2. 
 
 It is better to go to the house of mourning than to the 
 house of feasting ; for that is the end of all men, and 
 the living will lay it to his heart. ..... 282
 
 CONTENTS. XVII 
 
 SERMON XX. 
 
 On Religious Consolation in Affliction, exem- 
 plified in the Case of the Death of Children. 
 
 MATTHEW, ii. 18. 
 
 In Rama was there a voice heard, lamentation, and weep- 
 ing, and grea mourning; Rachel weeping for her chil- 
 dren, and would not be comforted, because they are 
 not Page 299 
 
 SERMON XXI. 
 On Religious Education. 
 
 PROV. xxii. 6. 
 
 Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is 
 old he will not depart from it. ...... 315 
 
 SERMON XXII. 
 
 On Religious Education. 
 
 JOHN, xiv. 15. 
 If ye love me, keep my commandments. .... 336 
 
 SERMON XXIII. 
 
 On Religious Rites. 
 
 I COR. xi. 16. 
 
 For as oft as ye eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do 
 shew the Lord's death till he come. .... 353 
 
 SERMON XXIV. 
 
 On Religious Rites. 
 
 ISAIAH, vi. 7. 
 
 And he laid it upon my mouth, and said, Lo, this hath 
 touched thy lips, and thine iniquity is taken away, and 
 thy sin purged --... 371
 
 XV111 CONTENTS. 
 
 SERMON XXV. 
 
 On Public Worship. 
 
 Psiisr, c. 3. 
 
 Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his court* 
 with praise : be thankful unto him, and bless his 
 name. -..-_-_..-- Page 384 
 
 SERMON XXVI. 
 On Youthful Piety. 
 
 EcCLESIASTES, Xli. 1. 
 
 Remember now thy Creator in tKe days of thy youth ; 
 while the evil days conic not, ncr the years draw nigh, 
 when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them. S9i 
 
 SERMON XXVII. 
 
 On Redeeming Time, 
 
 EPHESIANS, v. 16. 
 Redeeming the time, because the days are evil. - - 411 
 
 SERMON XXVIII. 
 
 Religious Meditations. 
 
 REV. i. 8. 
 
 I am the beginning and the ending, saith the Lord, which 
 is, and which was, and which is to come, the Al- 
 mighty. ............ 429
 
 SERMON I. 
 
 OJT THE CHARACTER OF RELIGION. 
 
 1 KINGS, xix. 12. 
 ^). I 
 
 " And after the fire, a still small voice" 
 
 J. NEED scarcely remind you, my bre- 
 thren, that these are the concluding words 
 of that very sublime passage in which the 
 Divine Presence is represented as being 
 made known to the prophet Elijah. " Go 
 forth, and stand upon the mount before the 
 Lord. And behold the Lord passed by> and 
 a great and strong wind rent the mountains, 
 and brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord; 
 but the Lord was not in the wind: and after 
 the wind, an earthquake ; but the Lord wan 
 A
 
 2 THE CHARACTER OF RELIGION. 
 
 not in the earthquake; and after the earth 
 quake, afire; but the Lord was. not in the 
 fire; and after the fire, a still small voice. 
 And it was so, when Elijah heard it, that he 
 wrapped his face in his mantle, and went out, 
 and stood in the entering in of the cave." 
 
 A passage of this kind is, in itself an 
 evidence of the inspiration of Scrip- 
 ture. All the circumstances of the de- 
 scription are in a style of thought superior 
 to the course of human ideas, and appear 
 to be the result of those lofty conceptions 
 of the divine nature which can be com- 
 municated only by the Spirjt of God. 
 The most terrific images from the natu- 
 ral world are first introduced; but they 
 are introduced merely for the sake of 
 contrast, and to heighten the mysterious 
 solemnity of the circumstance which fol- 
 lows. The prophet, we may suppose, wit- 
 nessed the great and strong wind, the 
 earthquake, and the fire, with emotions
 
 THE CHARACTER OF RELIGION, 3 
 
 suited to the contemplation of those tre- 
 mendous ministers of ruin : Yet these 
 were but natural agents, parts of the con- 
 stituted order of things; the servants, not 
 the Lord. It was not till the " still small 
 voice" signified the presence of another 
 Being, of a Being distinct from nature, 
 and speaking with the composure of ir- 
 resistible power, amidst all the confusion 
 and havoc of the elements, that Elijah 
 is described as having felt the peculiar 
 emotion of religious awe, that he '* wrap- 
 ped his face in his mantle, and went out, and 
 stood 171 the entering in of the cave" 
 
 3ut to dilate upon these circumstances 
 would tend rather to weaken than in- 
 crease their effect. It will be a more 
 useful employment to notice some views 
 of religion which, by an easy interpreta- 
 tion, may appear to be silently pointed at 
 in this remarkable passage. To look for 
 hidden meanings in the Sacred Writings
 
 4 THE CHARACTER OF RELIGION. 
 
 is, indeed, in most instances, both idle 
 and injudicious. The imagination, in 
 such inquiries, has so wide a field, and 
 may so readily be betrayed into delusive 
 views, that we ought to be very cautious 
 lest we fasten upon the simplicity of Scrip- 
 ture the wandering reveries of an enthu- 
 siastic mind. Yet, in some passages, more 
 may be meant than meets the ear. A 
 still small voice may whisper from them 
 great and important truths. 
 
 The description before us appears to 
 me to contain a beautiful intimation 
 of the character of true religion, as op- 
 posed to Superstition on the one hand, 
 and Infidelity on the other. In the 
 first of these aspects we may suppose 
 it particularly addressed to the Jews, 
 who, notwithstanding all the instructions 
 of Moses and the Prophets, were unac- 
 countably prone to the lowest and most 
 contemptible superstitions. In the time
 
 THE CHARACTER OF RELIGION. 5 
 
 of Elijah, in particular, there was a very 
 general apostacy from the true religion ; 
 the altars of God were deserted for those 
 of Baal. " I have been very jealous" says 
 he, "for the Lord God of Hosts: for the 
 children of Israel have forsaken thy cove- 
 nant, thrown down thine altars, and slain 
 thy Prophets with the sword, and I, even I 
 only am left. n 
 
 Now, the rise of Idolatry and Super- 
 stition may very naturally be traced to 
 that disposition, so deeply rooted in unen- 
 lightened minds, of supposing every part 
 of nature to be endowed with sentiment 
 and passion ; and, as the unity and con- 
 nection which run through the whole 
 scheme are not so apparent as to draw the 
 attention of a barbarian, he will common- 
 ly be induced to regard every detached 
 appearance as the indication of a separate 
 being, which, according to the character 
 of his own mind, he will invest with
 
 6 THE CHARACTER OF RELIGION. 
 
 gloomy or with cheerful attributes. It is 
 likewise a feature in human nature to be 
 inattentive to what is common, however 
 great and stupendous it may be in reali- 
 ty, and to bestow admiration only on what 
 is new and surprising. The feeling of 
 dread and apprehension too, excited by 
 unexpected exertions of terrible power, 
 operates on the mind of uninstructed 
 man far more powerfully than that of 
 gratitude for familiar and accustomed 
 bounty; and he is more disposed to 
 tremble before the destructive energies 
 of nature, than to confide in the har- 
 mony and mildness of its ordinary ad- 
 ministration. 
 
 From these observations, however brief- 
 ly stated, a reflecting mind will easily be 
 enabled to discover in what manner a plu- 
 rality of gods is so common a tenet in the 
 superstition of barbarous nations : why the 
 Deity is rather supposed to be traced
 
 THE CHARACTER OF RELIGION. 7 
 
 in the irregular convulsions of nature 
 
 o 
 
 than in its steady uniformity ; and in 
 what way the mind is more inclined to 
 fix on the gloomy and horrible, than on 
 the amiable and conciliating views of re- 
 ligion. The force of these remarks cannot 
 be more comprehensively expressed than 
 in the imagery of the passage we are con- 
 sidering. The mind of untutored man 
 looks fbr its gods in the great and strong- 
 wind, in the earthquake, and in the fire ; 
 while it is deaf to the still small voice 
 which speaks from all the corners of crea- 
 tion. The lesson conveyed to the Jews 
 in this description was therefore of the 
 most striking kind. God, they were told, 
 was not in the wind, in the earthquake 
 or in the fire. These convulsions of nature, 
 however stupendous, were not to be re- 
 garded as manifestations of Deity ; still 
 less, therefore, could they conceive him in- 
 cluded in any limited bodily form. Traces
 
 8 THE CHARACTER OF RELIGION. 
 
 of him they might find every where ; but 
 he himself was no where to be seen. 
 " Behold" says Job, " / go forward, but he 
 is not there; and backward, but I cannot 
 perceive him : on the left hand whert he doth 
 work, but I cannot behold him: lie hideth 
 himself on the right hand, that I cannot see 
 him" They were, in fact, told, that it 
 is Superstition alone which seeks to em- 
 body the Deity, and to fix him "in any 
 particular department of his works, or 
 supposes that he is chiefly to be found in 
 the midst of noise and fury and desola- 
 tion ; and that it is true religion and phi- 
 losophy which traces through all the me- 
 chanism of nature, and in all the course of 
 events, silent marks of the Divine hand, 
 which, without pretending to find him- 
 self, bends before the footsteps of Deity, 
 and listens with sacred composure to 
 the still small voice that speaks from the 
 harmony and order of the universe.
 
 THE CHARACTER OF RELIGION. p. 
 
 So far, then, the description before us may 
 be supposed to reprove idolatry and every 
 form of superstition, and, in this light, to 
 have been admirably calculated for the 
 instruction of that people to whom it was 
 originally addressed. But it may convey 
 a wider lesson, and one more adapted to 
 a philosophical and inquisitive age. Men 
 are not now much disposed to see God 
 in the wind, in the earthquake, or in the 
 fire. The bent of the present times is 
 not to superstition. Inquiries are made, 
 and made with admirable success, into the 
 natural causes of things ; and many ap- 
 pearances which, to the mind of a savage, 
 might seem completely miraculous, are 
 discovered to follow from the common 
 laws of nature. The proper tendency of 
 such inquiries is to throw light upon the 
 plan of the universe ; to discover, the far- 
 ther they are conducted, more traces of 
 wisdom and benevolence in nature, and
 
 10 THE CHARACTER OF RELIGIOX. 
 
 to confirm the proofs of religion. But 
 on some minds they have a different ef- 
 fect ; and, resting in second causes, some 
 men seem to overlook the existence of 
 the Supreme Cause of all. Not 'finding 
 him in the wind, in the earthquake, or in 
 the fire, such inquirers are sometimes led 
 to conclude, that God is not anywhere to 
 be discovered in nature ; and thus philo- 
 sophers have not unfrequently run into 
 almost the same delusion with that which 
 misleads the meanest and least instructed 
 barbarian. 
 
 The errors of both proceed on the 
 same gross and vulgar conceptions of 
 religion ; on the supposition that God, 
 if anywhere, is, in a manner, to be seen 
 or touched. The only difference is, that 
 the savage fancies he sees him, while the 
 atheist is blind. In opposition to both these 
 delusions, the words of the text point out 
 beautifully the nature of the proofs for
 
 THE CHARACTER OF RELIGION. 11 
 
 religion. " After the fire, a still small 
 voice." The general sentiment is, that 
 God does not obtrude himself on our 
 notice. " No man has seen God at any 
 time'' Even the proofs for his existence 
 and attributes, however irresistible when 
 attended to, are not of such a nature as to 
 force themselves on the careless and un- 
 thinking. There is a voice, indeed, and 
 a voice which may at all times be heard. 
 " Day unto day uttereth speech, and night 
 unto night sheweth knowledge : there is no 
 speech nor language where their voice is not 
 heard." Yet it is " a still small voice" 
 In fact, too, though this has not been suf- 
 ficiently noticed, it is always heard, but 
 men do not always attend to its import. 
 There is not a man in existence who does 
 not constantly perceive, and invariably 
 act upon the supposition that nature is an 
 established system or plan ; but few men 
 consider as they ought, and some appear
 
 12 THE CHARACTER OF RELIGIOX. 
 
 to forget entirely that a plan, by the very 
 force of the term, implies an author or 
 designer. The very regularity of na- 
 ture, the very constancy of its laws, 
 makes us lose sight of Him who ordered 
 and disposed it. The voice is so unvary- 
 ing in its sound, that it scarcely affects 
 the ear. 
 
 The lesson, then, my brethren, which we 
 ought to receive from this fact is, that the 
 proofs of religion are not hastily and pre- 
 sumptuously to be judged of. Wherever 
 the voice seems to sound, wherever to the 
 ear of reason and reflection a hint on this 
 important subject is conveyed, let man 
 listen with reverence, and be ready to 
 receive instruction. Let him not vainly 
 suppose that the voice has ceased to 
 sound because he has ceased to hear it ; 
 that the language of nature does not con- 
 l vey the same import, although he has for- 
 got the interpretation.
 
 THE CHARACTER OF RELIGION. 13 
 
 So much it may be sufficient to have 
 said on religion in a speculative view ; 
 but mere speculative views of religion are 
 of no importance unless they lead to prac- 
 tice. Religion, as it influences practice, 
 has the same general character which we 
 have attempted to explain : Here, too, it 
 is " a still small voice." It must contend 
 with the internal convulsions in the mind 
 of man, the fury of his passions, his world- 
 ly principles, and innumerable corrup- 
 tions. It must oppose the seduction of 
 present objects, and point to the riches of 
 futurity. No wonder, then, my brethren, 
 that it is so often either not heard at all, 
 or heard only to be stifled and overpower- 
 ed. Yet, whether we hear it or no, it 
 still speaks, and will make itself be heard 
 at one time or another. It will be heard in 
 adversity or in death, if it is unattended 
 to in the hours of prosperity, and in the 
 gay presumption of life. Or even if we
 
 14 THE CHARACTER OF RELIGION. 
 
 should succeed in drowning its voice en- 
 tirely in this world, it will be heard to 
 speak terrible things in the world which 
 is to come. 
 
 How important, then, is the endea- 
 vour to listen now to its gentle but so- 
 lemn call that call which invites us to 
 tread the paths of peace and wisdom, 
 which seeks to win our souls from those 
 vanities by which they are misled, and 
 points to honour and immortality as their 
 true pursuit and their glorious reward. 
 To those who hear the call and obey it, it 
 will prove a constant source of com- 
 fort. Although adversity may assail, and 
 friends forsake them, yet the voice which 
 they cheerfully follow will speak peace 
 and consolation to their hearts. As they 
 advance in life, and see more of the plan 
 of providence, its sounds will continually 
 become clearer and more distinct ; on the 
 bed of death they will swell into a note of
 
 THE CHARACTER OF RELIGION. 15 
 
 triumph ; and finally, in better worlds will 
 be heard to utter those welcome words : 
 " Well done, good and faithful servant, thou 
 hast been faithful over a few things, I will 
 make thee ruler over many things : enter thou 
 into the joy of thy Lord"
 
 > 
 
 SERMON II. 
 
 ON THE CHARACTER OF SCRIPTURE. 
 
 ST JOHN, V. 39. 
 " Search the Scriptures." 
 
 " THE heavens" says the Psalmist, " de- 
 clare the glory of God, and the firmament 
 sheweth his handy-work" This is the uni- 
 versal revelation which " is gone out 
 through all the earth, and to the end of 
 the world. To us who, from our ear- 
 liest years, have been taught to observe 
 those manifestations of Deity, they seern 
 to be so simple, so beautiful, and so 
 conclusive, that we are sometimes dispo- 
 sed to undervalue every other source of
 
 THE CHARACTER OF SCRIPTURE. 17 
 
 religious instruction. When we reflect, 
 however, my brethren, it cannot but 
 occur to us, that those traces of the di- 
 vine hand, which to us appear so dis- 
 tinct, are beheld without any emotion 
 by the greatest portion of the human 
 race : that the sun rises upon many re- 
 gions without reminding the unthinking 
 inhabitants of that eternal fountain of 
 light from whence he sprung ; and that 
 the savage may say of the book of nature, 
 us he has said of the book of revelation, 
 that " it speaks not to him." Nor can 
 we ascribe it to the progress of reason 
 and philosophy alone that the simple 
 truths of natural religion are so clearly 
 discerned by our eyes ; for there have been 
 ages before us, distinguished for the high- 
 est mental superiority ; ages to which we 
 still look back with reverence approach- 
 ing to adoration, that yet, in point of 
 religious knowledge or sentiment, were 
 
 B
 
 18 THE CHARACTER OF SCRIPTURE'. 
 
 scarcely at all advanced beyond the mi- 
 serable ignorance and superstition of bar- 
 barians. 
 
 Without denying the influence of other 
 Causes, it is therefore by no means hardy 
 in us to affirm, that the perfection of na- 
 tural religion is greatly to be imputed to 
 the progress of revelation; and that the 
 truths taught in the book of the Scrip- 
 tures have at least tended to open the 
 eyes of men to those sublime lessons 
 which nature herself may convey to them. 
 This indeed would be going Lut a little 
 way, and it would be betraying our trust 
 to say, that these sacred oracles contain 
 only a more perfect species of Deism. 
 The truths which they peculiarly teach 
 are those which our Saviour refers to in 
 the words immediately following the text : 
 " Search the scriptures (says he) for in them 
 ye think ye have eternal life, and they are 
 they whicli testify of me. It is through
 
 THE CHARACTER OF SCRIPTURE. 1<) 
 
 them that man becomes well instructed 
 in the doctrines of immortality and sal- 
 vation, that he learns his superiority to 
 the fleeting- things of the world, and per- 
 ceives the relation in which he stands to 
 that great person who undertook and ac- 
 complished the work of his redemption. 
 My present intention, however, is not to 
 enter into any particular consideration of 
 those great doctrines revealed to us in 
 scripture, and which are only to be found 
 there : I propose, from the words of the 
 text, to draw your attention rather to a 
 more general series of reflections, found- 
 ed on the beautiful truth conveyed to us 
 in the assertion that there are scriptures 
 open to our search, and that the Author 
 of our being has, in a peculiar manner, 
 deigned to hold communion with man. 
 
 la entering upon this point, allow me 
 first to suggest to you, that human na- 
 ture has always seemed to require some
 
 20 THE CHARACTER OF SCRIPTURE. 
 
 communication of this kind. However 
 beautiful the instances of divine goodness 
 and providence displayed in the works 
 of creation, yet they are not quite adapt- 
 ed to satisfy our hearts. Although he is 
 near, and round about us, yet the Author 
 of our Being seems somehow to be re- 
 mote from us : we enjoy, indeed, the fruits 
 of his bounty ; we even seem to hold a 
 conspicuous place among his works. \ et 
 nature is so vast a system ; every thing 
 around us is so prodigious and great, that 
 the notion of our insignificance cannot 
 but overwhelm us, and we seek for some 
 more touching assurances than the " still 
 small voice" of nature conveys to our ear, 
 that we are not overlooked and forgotten 
 in the immensity of creation. 
 
 / 
 
 It is^his feeling, my brethren, which 
 probably has operated as one cause to 
 give birth to all that monstrous assem- 
 blage of superstitions which degraded the
 
 THE CHARACTER OF SCRIPTURE. 
 
 antient world, and which now appear to 
 us so extraordinary and unaccountable. 
 Amidst all the folly and abomination 
 which may attach to them, they yet oc- 
 cur to us in this view as a very interest- 
 ing picture in the history of our species. 
 They were the attempts, the vain, the 
 erring, the disappointed, but the earnest 
 and persevering attempts of the creature 
 to approach its Creator; of a being who 
 felt the sublimity of his nature, however 
 clouded and obscured, to advance to the 
 source from which he sprung; and who, 
 amidst the disasters and melancholy of 
 human life, sought consolation from a 
 more direct intercourse with the great 
 Universal Spirit, the Father of his exist- 
 ence. 
 
 It is sometimes the fashion with phi- 
 losophical inquirers to ridicule, in the 
 superiority of their own knowledge and 
 reason, the simplicity of the savage who
 
 22 THE CHARACTER OF SCRIPTURE. 
 
 " sees God in clouds, and hears him in the 
 wind :" but perhaps they would find upon 
 consideration, that however he may err 
 in the course which he pursues, yet the 
 sentiment which guides him is congenial 
 to the heart of man ; and if these inqui- 
 rers have lost it amidst the pride of sys- 
 tem and reasoning, they are only perhaps 
 more liahle than he to the charge of err- 
 ror and delusion. 
 
 This sentiment, then, being natural to 
 man, let us, in the second place, consider 
 how beautifully it is met in the volume 
 of the Scriptures. However unexpected 
 many things in that book may be, how- 
 ever little they may suit the taste of a 
 refined age, yet this must be allowed to 
 them, that in every page they meet this 
 sentiment of our nature. They meet it 
 in all its forms, and they are only per- 
 haps the more truly divine, inasmuch as 
 they meet it with a peculiar condescen-
 
 CHARACTER OF SCRIPTURE. 23 
 
 sion, suited to all the varying circum- 
 stances of the human race. In the lan- 
 guage of St Paul, " they are made all things 
 to all men, that they may by all means save 
 some." In the early parts of the sacred 
 records in particular, we find many nar- 
 ratives which to us appear rude, and 
 adapted only to the conceptions of a bar- 
 barous age. The Deity seems to conde- 
 scend to the wishes of his creatures in a 
 manner that may appear to contradict 
 the lofty and exalted views which we 
 are now taught to form of his nature. 
 Yet, my brethren, in all such scenes, the 
 thing which must strike us most is the 
 fact of the divine condescension ; and in 
 the simple narrative of angels sitting- 
 down at the table of a patriarch, or con~ 
 ducting by the hand from the impending 
 ruin of a guilty city, the tottering steps 
 of age and of female irresolution; or 
 pf God foretelling in dreams the for-
 
 24 THE CHARACTER OF SCRIPTURE. 
 
 tunes of individuals and of nations ; we 
 ever distinguish the same invariable cha- 
 racters of his watchful and " most vi- 
 sible providence." Even when we read 
 of that perplexed and laborious law 
 which was only the shadow of good 
 things to come, which was imposed upon 
 the stiff necks of a rebellious people, and 
 which confined, under the trammels of 
 authority, men, who were incapable of 
 judging right : when we go on to con- 
 template the light which was occasion- 
 ally imparted during the progress of this 
 dark and mysterious dispensation to the 
 glowing minds of holy prophets ; and, 
 finally, when we behold the arrival of 
 Him who sealed up the law and the 
 prophecy, who proclaimed the salvation 
 of God to all mankind, and who confirm- 
 ed his doctrines by his blood; however, 
 in all these passages, many things strange 
 and unlocked for may occur, yet one
 
 THE CHARACTER OF SCRIPTURE. 25 
 
 thing is most remarkable, which runs 
 through them all, and which the heart 
 of man is most anxious to find, the assi- 
 duous care and attention bestowed upon 
 the interests of the human race by that 
 almighty and incomprehensible Being 
 " who inhabiteth eternity." 
 
 Here then, my brethren, we find the 
 natural wishes of the human soul met in 
 all their extent, and in a manner greatly 
 beyond expectation ; we find the Sove- 
 reign of Nature descending from his in- 
 accessible throne, and conversing with 
 man as a friend ; we find him command- 
 ing, encouraging, entreating, and using 
 every possible means to bring his sheep 
 into his fold, and to raise the eyes of 
 men to that better kingdom " wherein 
 dwelleth righteousness." It is no longer 
 the silent and invisible Governor of the 
 Universe, inshrined in his own majesty, 
 whom we contemplate at a distance, it is
 
 (3 THE CHARACTER OF SCRIPTURE. 
 
 one who sympathizes with all the wishes of 
 the beings whom he has formed, and who, 
 In his last and most remarkable manifes- 
 tation of himself, when he "spoke to us by 
 his So?i" " the brightness of his glory, and 
 the express image of his person" formed an 
 union with his people so close and conde- 
 scending, that the Creator seemed for 
 a time to be lost in the creature. 
 
 It is thus that, in a manner inconceiv- 
 ably beautiful, the revealed word of God 
 has supplied every thing that was defec- 
 tive in the voice of nature ; and this, if 
 no other consideration were to be added, 
 would be a sufficient call upon us to 
 search and study it with thankfulness and 
 diligence, In pursuing the same train of 
 thought, however, let me, in the third 
 place, suggest to you the great accession of 
 happiness and of virtue which these $ar 
 creel writings have been the means of in- 
 troducing among the human race : bappl-
 
 THE CHARACTER OF SCRIPTURE. 27 
 
 ness which is to be found where men least 
 look for it, and virtue where it has least 
 outward encouragement in the bosoms 
 of" those who are unknown to the world, 
 and who are often in the lowest and 
 apparently the most unfortunate circun> 
 stances. " Not many wise ??ie?i after the 
 flcsJi (says the Apostle) not many migh- 
 ty, not many noble arc called." Those 
 whom the world regards with admira- 
 tion and envy, as the favourites of for- 
 tune, and the great monopolizers of the 
 happiness of their species, how often, 
 alas! do they miss that true joy which is 
 found and relished by those who are 
 commonly regarded as the victims of 
 wretchedness ! The humble widow, whose 
 nightly pillow is moistened with her tears; 
 the poor man in his unnoticed cottage ; 
 the sinner whose conscience is wounded 
 with repentance ; the miserable of every 
 description whose hearts are not harden.
 
 2ft THE CHARACTER OF SCRIPTURE< 
 
 ed and debased, find in the consolations 
 of the Spirit of God that comfort and 
 well-grounded hope, which the pride of 
 learning or abilities, or wealth, or power, 
 so often seeks for in vain ! While now, 
 as in all former ages, some are plying the 
 beaten road of crime and conquest, flam- 
 ing for a time the passing meteors of 
 their age, how many in the retired vale 
 of unregarded privacy are deriving from 
 the volume of salvation those principles 
 of true ambition which will enable them 
 at last to "shine as the brightness of the fir- 
 mament, and as the stars for ever and ever!" 
 There is something inexpressibly strik- 
 ing in the reflection, that the great Sove- 
 reign of the Universe, that mysterious 
 Being whom philosophy has so often 
 searched after in vain, deigns, in the 
 pages of inspiration, to converse with the 
 lowest and humblest of his creatures; that 
 those who are ignorant of every thing
 
 THE CHARACTER OF SCRIPTURE. 29 
 
 else, may yet here be instructed by 
 him who knoweth all things, in those 
 points which it is chiefly material for 
 them to know; that " to the poor the gospel 
 is preached ;" and that the " High and 
 Holy One who inhabiteth eternity, here con- 
 descends to dwell with him also that is of 
 a contrite and humble spirit" 
 
 These reflections, my brethren, will, 
 I trust, be thought not entirely unworthy 
 of your attention, and they will perhaps 
 have some tendency to awaken a greater 
 regard to the instructions contained in 
 the sacred writings than it is usual with 
 many to bestow upon them. Every 
 thing, indeed, may be overdone ; and the 
 religious views of men, if confined to any 
 one direction, may lead into a narrow 
 manner of thinking, and into confined 
 and illiberal sentiments. Scripture, like 
 every thing else, is liable to very extra- 
 ordinary interpretations; and when men
 
 30 THE CHARACTER OF SCRIPTURE, 
 
 enter upon the study of it with a dispo- 
 sition to search into mysteries, or with 
 a prepossession for any peculiar set of te- 
 nets> and a desire to establish these in 
 preference to every other, they no doubt 
 may run into the most extravagant ima- 
 ginations, and find, in the words of God 
 himself, something like a colour for all 
 the perversions and follies of their own 
 disordered minds. The disposition for 
 receiving most advantage from the scrip- 
 tures is that which I have attempted to 
 shew Scripture was designed to meet, 
 the humble but earnest wish natural to 
 the human heart, to become acquainted 
 with God, to receive instruction from 
 him, to be comforted with the consola- 
 tions of his Spirit, and with the hopes of 
 immortality. 
 
 To these leading points all doctrines 
 and peculiar tenets of faith are subser- 
 vient; and those are probably the best
 
 THE CHARACTER OF SCRIPTURE. 3l 
 
 suited to every particular person, which 
 the most readily conduct his mind to the 
 knowledge of these sublime truths. " AIL 
 scripture (says St Paul) is given by inspira- 
 tion of God, and is profitable for doctrine* 
 for reproof, for correction, for instruction m 
 righteousness, that the man of God may be 
 perfect, thoroughly furnished unto all good 
 works:" " but, (as he says in another 
 place) avoid foolish questions, and gcjiealo- 
 gies and contentions, and strivings about the 
 law,' for they are unprofitable and vain."
 
 SERMON III. 
 
 ON T THE CHARACTER OF WISDOM. 
 
 PROV. xvii. 24. 
 
 " Wisdom is before him that hath understand- 
 ing, but the eyes of a fool are in the ends 
 of the earth" 
 
 JLT is the object of the writings of Solo- 
 mon to point out the superiority of wis- 
 dom to every other human acquisition. 
 " Wisdom (says he) is the principal thing; 
 therefore get wisdom, and, with all thy get- 
 ting, get understanding" Not that he 
 ever undervalues the common objects
 
 THE CHARACTER OF WISDOM. 33 
 
 of human pursuit, such as riches, power, 
 or pleasure : his only aim is to enforce a 
 lesson which long experience had taught 
 him, that to a man who is unwise these 
 advantages are really of very small im- 
 portance, and that a wise man can at all 
 times reconcile himself to the want of 
 them. 
 
 Two questions, however, here present 
 themselves ; What is wisdom, and in what 
 manner may it be attained ? To the first 
 of these inquiries, the answer of Solomon 
 is in these words : " The fear of the Lord 
 is the beginning of wisdom; and the know- 
 ledge of the holy is understanding." Or, 
 in other words, man is then wise, and 
 then only, when, with a sense of the obli- 
 gation which he is under to do so, he en- 
 deavours to discover, and to carry into 
 effect, the design of God in his creation. 
 
 But it may be asked, no doubt, how is 
 this discovery to be made ? What is clear 
 c
 
 34 TJHE CHARACTER OF WISDOM. 
 
 amidst the contradictions of human rea* 
 son ? What distinct rules even of mora- 
 lity are to be found amidst the varying 
 customs and opinions of men ? When we 
 leave our own narrow circle, and look 
 into " the ends of the earth" where shall 
 we find nations agree in their views, even 
 of the duties of social life ? But if we 
 proceed further, and examine the opi- 
 nions of men on religious subjects, into 
 how wide a field of contradiction and ex- 
 travagance do we run ? Where, then, are 
 truth or wisdom to be found? 
 
 To this class of inquiries, the answer 
 of the wise man is contained in the text. 
 ** Wisdom is before him that hath understand- 
 ing ; but the eyes of a fool are in the ends of 
 the earth" As if he had said ; " Give a 
 cautious heed to the feelings of your con- 
 science, and to the opinions of the wise, 
 and the upright among whom you live, 
 and you will seldom go far wrong in your 

 
 THE CHARACTER OF WISDOM. 35 
 
 views of duty and morality. Bestow in 
 like manner a prudent attention on that 
 form of religious faith in which you have 
 been brought up ; and if in the course of 
 your life you may happen to attain more 
 liberal and enlightened opinions than 
 you received from your first instructors, 
 yet be persuaded that, in the main, these 
 are the instructions which have convey- 
 ed to you some of the most important 
 truths which in this world you can ever 
 learn." " My son hear the instruction of 
 thy father, and forsake not the law of thy 
 mother, for they shall be an ornament, of 
 grace unto thy head, and chains about thy 
 neck." If you have had understanding, 
 moral and religious wisdom have at all 
 times been before you, and within your 
 reach ; it is merely folly, though you 
 may sometimes have thought it the mark 
 of an unprejudiced and philosophical
 
 36* THE CHARACTER OF WISDOM. 
 
 mind, to send your eyes in search of 
 them to the " ends of the earth." 
 
 Such, my brethren, is the simple and 
 unassuming wisdom delivered in the in- 
 structions of this wise king ! How dif- 
 ferent in its character from much of what 
 is called wisdom in the present age, from 
 the course which philosophy has too fre- 
 quently pursued, and how different in its 
 effects from that misery and loss of all 
 steady principle into which the wretched 
 votaries of modern infidelity have been 
 too often betrayed ! There are two po- 
 sitions which the text leads me to illus- 
 trate : the first is, that every thing which 
 it is most important for us to know, either 
 in morals or religion, lies before us, and 
 may be attained without any deep in- 
 quiry : the second is, that when more 
 profound or extensive inquiries upon 
 such subjects are resorted to by the wise, 
 it is never with the view of opposing, but
 
 THE CHARACTER OF WISDOM. 37 
 
 of adding farther confirmation to those 
 great and fundamental truths. The il- 
 lustration of these positions will, I trust, 
 be of some advantage to those of the 
 younger part of our congregation, who 
 may at this time * be employed in an 
 examination of the evidences of religion, 
 whether natural or revealed. 
 
 In the first place, then, let those who 
 are entering upon such inquiries consider, 
 that, from the nature of the thing, they 
 are not necessarily very deep or pro- 
 found. Morals and religion are the bu- 
 siness, and constitute the wisdom of all 
 mankind, of the unlearned as well as of 
 the learned, of the peasant as well as the 
 philosopher. But what it is the business 
 of all men to know, no man can know 
 well, unless it is made in some degree 
 apparent to his reason ; and before the 
 principles of morality or of religion can 
 
 * The season of Adrent.
 
 38 THE CHARACTER OF WISDOM. 
 
 be of material service to any human 
 being, his reason must to a certain extent 
 be convinced of their truth. 
 
 It is the fashion with freethinkers to 
 suppose, that the religious opinions of 
 the lower orders are merely prejudice 
 and superstition ; that their imagina- 
 tions are merely affected, but that their 
 reason remains unconvinced ; and they 
 accordingly often talk of these plain 
 simple people in a strain of ridicule 
 and contempt which is much more ap- 
 plicable to themselves. The fact, how- 
 ever, undoubtedly is, that although in 
 the religion of an uneducated man, there 
 is commonly some mixture of supersti- 
 tion, yet in as far as it serves him for a 
 rule of w r ise and upright conduct here, 
 and affords him well-founded hopes of 
 happiness hereafter, it is in the highest 
 degree reasonable ; and it is the pride and 
 glory of religion, that in the lowest cir- 
 cumstances of human fortune, it has
 
 THE CHARACTER OF WISDOM. 3$ 
 
 trained up men to act a wise, a worthy, 
 and a noble part, compared with which 
 no lessons of human philosophy have ef- 
 fected any thing similar or comparable, 
 even while they were assisted by all the 
 advantages of knowledge and education. 
 Now, what I mean to assert is, that princi- 
 ples which lie level to men of very imper- 
 fect education, may be found without any 
 deep inquiry, and when theyare overlooked, 
 as they unfortunately have been by many 
 ingenious men, it is rather from their sim- 
 plicity and plainness than from their ab- 
 struseness and difficulty. It is too often 
 the miserable weakness of men of genius, 
 that they will not accept of the wisdom 
 which is before them, but, rather than be 
 satisfied with so cheap a purchase, will 
 permit their eyes to travel with those of 
 the fool in the text, into " the ends of the 
 earth."
 
 40 THE CHARACTER OF WISDOM. 
 
 What for instance, so simple to every 
 thinking person, or so congenial to every 
 uncorrupted heart, as the fundamental 
 truth of all religion, the belief of the ex- 
 istence of God ? What so natural as the 
 sentiments of devotion which rise from 
 the contemplation of his perfections ? 
 What, in like manner may I add, so easi- 
 ly comprehended as the more important 
 doctrines of revelation ? That a teacher 
 came from God to instruct mankind : 
 that he delivered the purest precepts, and 
 exhibited the model of every virtue in 
 his life : that he conversed with man as 
 a friend and brother : that he died to 
 take away the sting and the bitterness of 
 death : and that he rose again to ex- 
 hibit to man a living proof of the final 
 victory, of human nature over death and 
 the grave. There is a congeniality be- 
 tween such views and the natural senti- 
 ments of religion, and they supply so
 
 THE CHARACTER. OF WISDOM. 41 
 
 well some points which the religion of 
 nature leaves obscure, that an unpreju- 
 diced man, it would seem, should have 
 no great difficulty in admitting them, and 
 should require no very great body of evi- 
 dence for the purpose of establishing 
 their truth. 
 
 The evidence for natural religion rests 
 on the simple and quiet contemplation 
 of nature : the leading evidence for 
 revelation is founded in the conscious- 
 ness of our spiritual wants, and in the 
 unstrained interpretation of Scripture, 
 which without any trick of rhetoric, 
 or any affectation of laborious proof, 
 speaks immediately to the heart and the 
 understanding, and founds its evidence 
 and authority on the weight and dignity 
 of the truths which it delivers. " Wis- 
 dom then" my brethren, " is before him 
 that hath understanding ;" not merely the 
 wisdom of time, but the wisdom of eter-
 
 42 THE CHARACTER OF WISDOM. 
 
 nity ; not merely the .rules of common 
 prudence, but the paths of everlasting 
 salvation. 
 
 The second position which I undertook 
 to illustrate, is, that profound or extensive 
 inquiries may frequently add confirma- 
 tion to moral and religious truths, but 
 are never resorted to by the wise, from 
 any view of opposition to these truths. 
 
 It was not certainly the intention of So- 
 lomon, to interrupt the inquiries and spe- 
 culations of the human mind : nor, when 
 he affirms that " the eyes of the fool are in 
 the ends of the earth" does he at all mean 
 to insinuate, that the wise should not like- 
 wise look abroad upon nature, and em- 
 ploy their eyes upon all that is known 
 of the works of God, or of the history of 
 man. The wise, however, are actuated 
 in their inquiries, by principles diametri- 
 cally opposite to those of the fool. They 
 seek not to oppose the truths upon which
 
 THE CHARACTER OF WISDOM. 43 
 
 the happiness and the dignity of man de- 
 pend, but to confirm them. Whatever 
 may be the seducing power of ingenious 
 speculation, the wise man will never per- 
 mit it to overcome the fundamental prin- 
 ciples of his conduct, and of his hopes. 
 The proofs on which these rest, are sim- 
 ple and before him : his speculations are 
 drawn, he knows, from a distance, and 
 may be true or false : the first he pos- 
 sesses in common with every human be- 
 ing, before whom these truths have been 
 laid : they are like the air which all men 
 breathe, and the objects which all see : 
 more refined speculations upon such sub- 
 jects, are like inquiries into the composi- 
 tion of the atmosphere, or into the hidden 
 properties of bodies, which, in the hands 
 of the wise, may lead, no doubt, to great 
 and important uses, but which may be 
 abused by the fool to purposes of mis- 
 chief and folly.
 
 44 THE CHARACTER OF WISDOM. 
 
 The wise will never rake into the cor- 
 ners of nature for strange appearances, 
 upon which their ignorance may raise 
 a doubt as to the wisdom and the be- 
 neficence of its author. It is their de- 
 light, on the contrary, to explain every 
 passage in the great volume of crea- 
 tion, which may render his attributes 
 more admirable to the human mind. 
 Nor, in their examination of the various 
 forms under which religion has appear- 
 ed among men, do they ever officiously 
 study to conceal the original characters 
 of truth, which run through the whole ; 
 or to throw into the dark those features 
 of divinity, which distinguish the religion 
 of Christ from all the other forms of hu- 
 man belief. Such, indeed, are sometimes 
 the melancholy attempts of the fool ; or, 
 what is worse, of those men of unfortu- 
 nate ingenuity, who abuse the gift of God 
 committed to them to their own ruin,
 
 THE CHARACTER OF WISDOM. 45 
 
 and that of others. It is, on the other 
 hand, the part of the wise, through all 
 the varying forms of superstition, to trace 
 the workings of the same common religi- 
 ous nature in man and, amidst the dark- 
 ness which sits deep over the hopes of the 
 human race, to descry the appearance 
 of that star which gives the promise of a 
 better day, and " to rejoice with exceeding 
 great joy? when it leads them to the place 
 where they may "fall down and worship 
 him 1 who has come to enlighten and to 
 save the world* 
 
 These observations, my brethren, as I 
 have already said, are chiefly intended 
 for the young. In that period of life, 
 more than in any other, wisdom seems to 
 be something remote from common ob- 
 servation, and to be found only " in the 
 ends of the earthr It is at this period that 
 we are more attached in our inquiries to 
 ingenuity than to truth ; and that, in the
 
 46 THE CHARACTER OF WISDOM. 
 
 fancied liberality and illumination of our 
 views, we are tempted to hold in the ut- 
 most contempt every thing which we can 
 class in our imaginations under the aspect 
 of superstition. Under that name, alas ! we 
 are too ready to include the most venerable 
 and the wisest opinions; and, on the shrine 
 of popular delusion and folly, to sacrifice all 
 that is truly great, either on earth or in 
 heaven ! These, however, whatever they 
 may seem to be, are not the true em- 
 ployments of genius, and are, at all times, 
 most unworthy of an elevated mind. 
 
 Go then, my young, friends, and fill 
 your minds with all knowledge, and with 
 all science. Let your eyes and your 
 thoughts run into the ends of the earth. 
 Give full scope to that ardour which this 
 seat of liberal education is so well adapt- 
 ed to inspire and to gratify ; but, as you 
 value your peace of mind here, and your 
 happiness hereafter, let not the vanity of
 
 THE CHARACTER OF WISDOM. 47 
 
 knowledge lay snares for the principles 
 of your virtue, or your faith. Make phi- 
 losophy, as she ever ought to be, the hand- 
 maid of morality and religion, and she 
 will then supply you with additional con- 
 firmations of that wisdom w r hich is ever 
 before you ; and your eyes will then have 
 been in the ends of the earth, not like the 
 eyes of fools, but like the eyes of the ser- 
 tants and the children of the most high 
 and all-wise God.
 
 SERMON IV. 
 
 ON THE CHARACTER OF FAITH. 
 
 ST JOHN, XX. 29. 
 
 " Jesus saith unto him, Thomas, because tkou 
 hast seen me, thou hast believed; blessed 
 are they that have not seen, and yet have 
 believed" 
 
 1 HESE words, my brethren, convey much 
 useful instruction to those who, like us, 
 live in the latter ages of the Gospel. They 
 are the words of our Lord to St Thomas, 
 occasioned by that singular incredulity 
 with which this apostle received the ac- 
 counts of his master's resurrection. After
 
 THE CHARACTER OF FAITH. 49 
 
 having removed his doubts, by affording 
 him all the evidence which he required, 
 or which the fact was capable of receiving, 
 our Lord reproves him, but in very gentle 
 language, for the want of faith which 
 he had shewn. " Thomas, (says he) be- 
 cause thoii hast seen me thou hast believed ; 
 blessed are they that have not seen, and yet 
 have believed." 
 
 It is evident, that we in this age of the 
 world, stand very much in the situation 
 in which St Thomas stood before our 
 Lord appeared to him. We have not 
 
 seen, and yet, I trust, we believe ! 
 
 There are, however, some in this age, 
 who will tell us, that our belief is falla- 
 cious and vain ; who will deride the pro- 
 mises in which we trust, and affirm that 
 there are no grounds for those hopes 
 which we have set before us. If, at any 
 time, we feel our minds giving way to 
 .such representations, or are dazzled by 
 D
 
 50 THE CHARACTER OF FAITH. 
 
 the plausible ingenuity with which they 
 may be supported, let us call to our re- 
 collection the memorable words of our 
 .Lord, that although we have not seen, 
 although we have not received the high- 
 est evidences, we are yet blessed if we 
 believe : The words, my brethren, are 
 very affecting, and very important ; and I 
 trust, that I shall be usefully employed 
 in drawing from them a few obvious re- 
 flections, 
 
 In the first place, then, it is apparent, 
 that when our Saviour tells us We are 
 blessed if we believe, he cannot possibly 
 mean to recommend that we should be- 
 lieve any thing which we have not good 
 grounds for believing. He cannot mean 
 that we should take our opinions upon 
 trust, or without making a proper use 
 of that reason which God has given us. 
 We are, on the contrary, expressly requir- 
 ed, to " prove all things" and to be " ready
 
 THE CHARACTER OF FAtTII. 51 
 
 to give an answer to every man who asketh a 
 reason of the hope that is in us" According 
 to the opportunities which we possess, our 
 faith ought always to be established on 
 solid and substantial foundations. But, 
 from the very nature of'the thing, these can 
 never amount to the highest possible evi- 
 dence. What we learn from the testi- 
 mony of others, is never so certain as 
 what we see with our own eyes. It may, 
 however, be sufficiently certain to be cre- 
 dited or believed ; and that mind must 
 be very full of suspicion, which will al- 
 ways require the highest evidence for 
 every species of truth. 
 
 This was plainly the case with St Tho- 
 mas. He had surely been witness to ma- 
 ny circumstances in the life of his master 
 which rendered the fact of his resurrec- 
 tion not a very improbable one; and his 
 companions, the apostles, had, with one 
 voice, declared to him, that they had con-
 
 52 THE CHARACTER OF FAITH. 
 
 versed with their Lord, and that he was 
 indeed risen from the dead. The hesita- 
 tion of St Thomas with regard to the truth 
 of this fact was evidently, therefore, very 
 unreasonable, and argued a strange de- 
 gree oi stubborn incredulity. It was pos- 
 sible, certainly, that the apostles might be 
 joined in a plot to deceive him ; but this 
 was both an improbable and an unami- 
 able suspicion. He knew well the worth 
 and the veracity of these men ; he knew 
 likewise their love for their master, and 
 the extreme consternation and distress 
 which his death had occasioned them ; 
 and it was surely most unlikely that, in 
 this temper of mind, they should be so 
 idly and cruelly employed as to attempt 
 to trifle with the feelings of one of their 
 own associates. While, then, our Lord 
 cannot mean to recommend groundless 
 belief, yet he very reasonably recommends 
 belief on such convictions of the under-
 
 THE CHARACTER OF FAITH. 53 
 
 standing as have a substantial foundation, 
 although they may not rest on the high- 
 est possible evidence. 
 
 But, secondly, my brethren, the ex- 
 pression of the text conveys much more. 
 It expresses not merely a simple approba- 
 tion of such belief as a right and reason- 
 able thing, but it speaks of it in a high 
 strain of commendation. It is not mere- 
 ly said, it is reasonable to believe al- 
 though we have not seen, but, " blessed 
 are they that have not seen, and yet have be- 
 lieved'' In the particular case, therefore, 
 of religious belief (the only case which 
 our Saviour had in view), it appears that 
 there is not merely a reasonableness and 
 propriety, but that there is a high degree 
 of moral excellence. This is a point 
 which it is of consequence to explain, as 
 it seems not to be sufficiently understood : 
 though what I can now say upon the sub- 
 ject must necessarily be very imperfect.
 
 54 THE CHARACTER OF FAITH. 
 
 First, then, it may be remarked, that 
 religious belief is the noblest principle of 
 the human soul ; and is the feeling 
 to which it instinctively returns when- 
 ever it is freed from the seductions of 
 present objects. Whenever the mind 
 comes back upon itself) and reflects for a 
 moment whence it came, and whither it 
 is going, when it is freed from the cur- 
 rent of the world, it then rises as by a 
 natural aspiration after some intercourse 
 and communion with the unseen arbiter 
 of its destiny. There immediately springs 
 up within it a principle of Faith, a bond 
 of union, which connects it with the un- 
 known and undiscoverable secrets of futu- 
 rity, and makes it feel that a time is 
 coming when all the objects with which 
 it is now occupied will be of no value in 
 its eye, and that other and greater ob- 
 jects, with which it is now unacquainted, 
 will then fill up the vast measure of its af-
 
 TflE CHARACTER OF FAITH. 55 
 
 fections. To cultivate this feeling, to keep 
 alive this high sense of our future des- 
 tiny, to clincr to those facts bv which it is 
 
 */ ^ 
 
 supported, to apply ourselves with ardour 
 and eagerness to every appearance in na- 
 ture, and to every relation in history by 
 which it receives confirmation, is a proof 
 of an elevated mind ; and so far from 
 being a weakness which we ought to 
 overcome, it is a noble disposition which 
 struggles with the littleness of present 
 pursuits, and strives to lift the soul to 
 a sense of its true dignity. This is one 
 view in which it is blessed to believe ; and 
 although our reason certainly could never 
 approve of any unsound or fallacious be- 
 lief, yet the moral faculty might almost 
 applaud that noble boldness of faith which 
 could cling to religion, even if reason 
 were to oppose it. 
 
 But farther, all religious faith that is 
 consistent and sound, evinces a love of
 
 56 THE CHARACTER OF FAITH. 
 
 virtue ; because when we throw our eyes 
 into a future world, we can never ration- 
 ally do so without believing that this fu- 
 ture world will be the reign of perfection. 
 The mind of man rises beyond the pre- 
 sent life, chiefly because it perceives here 
 something incomplete, wrong, and irregu- 
 larly conducted it looks into another 
 life, because it there expects that every 
 thing will be well-ordered and com- 
 pleted. It cam only look into another 
 life with satisfaction, therefore it can on- 
 ly believe willingly, it can only cling to 
 beliefj and accept of any reasonable evi- 
 dence for believing, if itself is good, if it 
 loves goodness, if it triumphs in the 
 thought that all will yet be well, and 
 that there will be nothing left to offend 
 in the kingdom of God. Faith, there- 
 fore, argues a blessed disposition, a dis- 
 position which aims at the perfection of 
 all creation, and which longs to behold
 
 THE, CHARACTER OF FAITH. 57 
 
 the whole universe of being freed from 
 defect, from vice, and suffering. 
 
 I shall only add, my brethren, that 
 there- is something peculiarly blessed in 
 Christian faith, in that disposition of mind 
 which, recognizing the blindness and the 
 weakness of the human heart, seeks a 
 guide to direct its steps, and strength su- 
 perior to its own on which it may lean ; 
 which, sacrificing the pride of man, can 
 fix its eye steadily upon the cross, and can 
 discover the perfection of all that is to be 
 admired and loved in one whose external 
 circumstances were mean, and who " had 
 no beauty that we should desire him." There 
 is a purity and an absence of all worldly 
 affections in such faith, that is peculiarly 
 connected with all the best principles of 
 our nature. 
 
 From these two reflections, from the 
 reflection that sound faith must always 
 rest upon good grounds, and from the
 
 ,58 THE CHARACTER OF FAITH. 
 
 reflection that there is a moral beuuty 
 and blessedness in the disposition of mind 
 which leads to religious belief) we may 
 gather what is the duty of man on this 
 important subject : First, it is our duty 
 to seek such a foundation for our faith as 
 reason will approve of; and, secondly, 
 we must be careful not to let the founda- 
 tion be shaken when we have secured it 
 We must not consider religious faith as 
 an indifferent matter, or that it resembles 
 opinions on common subjects, to which it 
 is of little importance whether we are sted- 
 fast or indifferent. When we have form- 
 ed reasonable opinions in religion, we 
 must prize them as the greatest good 
 w y hich we possess, and rather permit the 
 Avhole world to crumble about our heads 
 than part with one of them. Like other 
 duties, this, too, may at times be a difficult 
 one. We may be led away from it by the 
 seductions of vanity, by the love of the
 
 THE CHARACTER OF FAITH. 59 
 
 world, by the love of philosophy, falsely 
 so called, and by many other attractions. 
 But, in the difficulty itself, there is ano- 
 ther source of merit ; and the more hard 
 the task may be to keep our faith un- 
 shaken, the more blessed are we if we per- 
 severe to the end, 
 
 In the third place, my brethren, the 
 words of our Saviour suggest a farther re^ 
 flection. While faith is blessed as a moral 
 quality, it is to be accounted blessed like^ 
 wise in another view*. Our faith is not, 
 in most cases, entirely our own work. 
 We owe much to the care of our parents, 
 to the good principles which they have 
 instilled into us ; and often, too, we are 
 indebted to happy incidents in the course 
 of our lives, which may well be denomi- 
 nated interpositions of Prgvidence. Our 
 faith then comes from a higher power than 
 ourselves : it is a good gift bestowed up- 
 on us a blessing which we have received.
 
 60 THE CHARACTER OF FAITH. 
 
 From this view, let us first learn with 
 what temper of mind we ought to regard 
 want of faith in other men. There is 
 probably, in all instances of infidelity, 
 some degree of vice : in many instances 
 there may be very great and glaring vice, 
 something which it is natural for us to de- 
 test and to abhor. But there may be 
 many other instances, and it is to be hop- 
 ed they are the most frequent, in which 
 there is much more to be regretted and 
 lamented. The lesson which the words 
 of our Saviour in the text, and which the 
 whole incident that gave occasion to 
 them may afford us here, is very striking 
 and beautiful. St Thomas was for a time 
 what is commonly called an infidel. He 
 required an evidence for his faith, which 
 no man in the present age of the world 
 can ever obtain, and which it was unrea- 
 sonable, and, in some respects, unworthy 
 in him to demand. Yet his Master still
 
 THE CHARACTER OF FAITH. 6l 
 
 beheld, with a favourable eye, what was 
 really good in this disciple ; and, so far 
 from treating him with any harshness or 
 unpleasing severity on account of his un- 
 belief, he condescended to give him the 
 evidence which he required. He scarce- 
 ly, indeed, reproaches him with his infi- 
 delity. His words convey a reproach, 
 but it is of the gentlest and most tacit 
 nature imaginable. He does not say, 
 " Thomas, thou art accursed because thou 
 didst, not believe ;" he says simply, " Tho- 
 mas, because thou hast seen me thou hast be- 
 lieved ; blessed are they that have not seen 
 and yet have believed" If this was the 
 temper, and this the language in which 
 <5ur Saviour himself addressed an unbe- 
 lieving disciple, with what charity and 
 indulgence ought we, his unworthy ser- 
 vants, to treat a brother who has fallen 
 into doubt and perplexity ? instead of 
 driving him from us with anger and im-
 
 2 THE CHARACTER OF FAITH. 
 
 patient revilings, we are here directed to 
 lay before him all the evidence in our 
 possession, and, by gentle and persuasive 
 assurances, to win over to the truth, a 
 heart which can only be hardened by 
 scorn, and alienated by reproach. 
 
 But farther, my brethren, from the 
 view of faith as a blessing Avhich we have 
 received, the following most important 
 consideration, arises : let it not be receiv- 
 ed in vain. It is not given us for the 
 purpose of lying dead and dormant in our 
 minds, it is given with the design of in- 
 spiring us with the love of every thing 
 that is good. It is given with the view 
 of exciting us to all good works ; and, in 
 fact, we cannot be said to possess it un- 
 less we permit it to obtain its genuine and 
 natural scope. It is given to raise our 
 minds above this world, and to carry our 
 
 affections into a higher scene. We be- 
 
 <_ 
 
 lieye that the present life is but the school
 
 THE CHARACTER OF FAITH. 63 
 
 of preparation for an eternal world ; that 
 we have no " abiding city' here ; and that 
 we are advancing to a celestial city, 
 whose ** builder and maker is God." We 
 believe that one has gone hefore us, who 
 came to guide us in our course, who lias 
 burst the barriers of" the grave, and has 
 " ascended up en high? These are the 
 truths in which our infant years were in- 
 structed, and which our maturer judg- 
 ments have approved : they are the truths 
 which we profess to believe when we as- 
 semble round the altar of Christ ; and 
 they constitute that faith which is the 
 polar star that directs our voyage through 
 the dark and stormy night of mortality. 
 " What manner of men, then, ought we to 
 be in all holy conversation and godliness" 
 Hnd how greatly does it become us to 
 " hold this inystery of the faith in. a pure
 
 SERMON V. 
 
 ON NATURAL RELIGIOX 
 
 JOHN, CHAP. 14. V. 8. 
 
 " Philip saltk unto him, Lord skeio us the 
 Fattier, and it sujficeth us" 
 
 U.OWEVER inattentive to the impressions 
 of religion mankind may generally be, it 
 is probable that there is not a human be- 
 ing in existence who has not, on some 
 occasions of his life, felt the full force of 
 the sentiment in the text. The wise and 
 the ignorant, the busy and the gay, the 
 prosperous and the unfortunate, the good 
 and the bad, have all their hours of
 
 ON NATURAL RELIGION. G5 
 
 deeper and finer feeling, in which their 
 minds, rising above common pursuits, 
 become sensible that a Father in heaven 
 must be found to complete the measure 
 of their enjoyments, to alleviate their 
 sorrows, and to pardon their sins. The 
 language of Philip, therefore, my bre- 
 thren, is the language of human nature ; 
 and it strikes upon our hearts as the voice 
 of a being who, wandering over a dark 
 world, where error misleads, and where 
 vice betrays, where misery pursues, and 
 where even prosperity cloys, lifts, at 
 times, an anxious eye to the heavens 
 which surround him, and exclaims that 
 all is yet well, that nothing is yet to be 
 complained of, if he can find a Father. 
 " Lord, shew us the Father, and it sufficeth 
 us." 
 
 The answer of our Lord to the request 
 'of his disciple is conveyed in language so 
 ipfty, and is yet so gentle and conde- 
 
 E
 
 G6 ON NATURAL RELIGION. 
 
 scending, that it could have proceeded 
 from no other than one who, with all the 
 feelings of the Son of Man, knew that he 
 was the Son of God. " Jesus saith unto 
 him f have I been so long time with you, and 
 yet hast thou not known me, Philip ? He 
 that hath seen me hath seen the Father : and. 
 how sayest thou, then, shew us the Father ?" 
 On a future occasion, my brethren, I 
 will examine these words as they apply 
 to him who spoke them. At present it 
 may not be an useless employment of 
 your time, if I point out a more general 
 answer which the request of Philip might 
 have received ; an answer not indeed so 
 applicable to the circumstances in which 
 he stood,, nor so satisfactory in itself yet 
 more adapted to the general circum- 
 stances of mankind, and which has at 
 least the advantage of being ever ready 
 at hand, if we will but open our hearts 
 t receive it. There is no absolute ne-
 
 ON NATURAL RELIGION. 67 
 
 cessity for a messenger from heaven to 
 inform us that we have a Father : what- 
 ever we see, or hear, or feel, brings us 
 assurance of this great and consolatory 
 truth ; and the sun which blazes above 
 our heads, and " the moon and the stars 
 which he hath ordained" address us in 
 words which " have gone out through all 
 
 the earth, and to the ends of the world" 
 
 
 
 There is surely no truth more obvious 
 to the human mind, than that this mag- 
 nificent universe which we inhabit is an 
 orderly and systematic scene ; that there 
 is no confusion or disorder in the great 
 outlines of nature ; and the farther philo- 
 sophy inquires, the more contrivance and 
 artifice it discovers in every minute par- 
 ticular. This is a fact, my brethren ; and 
 this suffices us. It shews us the Father ; 
 it shews us the Mind by which nature is 
 governed ; and tells us in language which
 
 6'8 ON NATURAL 
 
 cannot be misunderstood, that where- 
 ever we move, Wisdom embraces us. 
 
 But it is not merety inanimate nature 
 by which we are surrounded. The world 
 teems with life ; and innumerable orders 
 of living beings rejoice in the light of 
 day. It is not design and intelligence 
 alone which the volume of creation of- 
 fers to our eye. We likewise read in 
 
 
 glowing characters the traces of benevo- 
 lence; and the Father of existence is also 
 the giver of good. Does not this suffice 
 us, my brethren ? Or, if man requires 
 more particular proofs that he has a Fa- 
 ther, has he not received them ? Has he 
 not been made but " a little lower than the 
 angels, and been crowned with glory and 
 honour ? Is he not made to have dominion 
 over the works oj the divine hands, and are not 
 all things put under his feet ?" Are not the 
 highest sources of happiness opened up 
 to lum ia the attainment of knowledge, iq
 
 ON" NATURAL RELIGION. 6$ 
 
 his social affections, and in the practice 
 of virtue ? Are these, and all the other 
 enjoyments of his nature placed within 
 his reach, and yet can he be blind to the 
 bounty from which they flow ? Can he, 
 for a moment, suppose that God careth 
 not for him, or that he is thrown loose 
 upon a world where he is forsaken and 
 neglected ? True : he must often labour 
 with the sweat of his brow ; but that 
 seeming curse commonly proves a real 
 blessing.- True : he is subject to pain, 
 to sorrow, and to death; but the rays of 
 patience and hope gild the clouds of his 
 heaviest day, and the best and happiest 
 affections of his nature are called out 
 nnder the salutary discipline of affliction. 
 The evils of life, my brethren, are con^ 
 fessedly a dark part of the divine admi- 
 nistration ; yet we commonly conceive 
 it to be darker than it is, and, unwilling at 
 any time to acknowledge . that we re-
 
 70 ON NATURAL RELIGION. 
 
 quire chastisement, we are too apt to 
 think ourselves harshly dealt with, when 
 we are in truth receiving the most une- 
 quivocal proofs of our Father's love. 
 " Affliction comcth not forth out of the dust, 
 neither doth trouble spring out of the ground" 
 There are purposes, frequently indeed 
 obscure, which the most severe calami- 
 ties are intended to answer. There is one 
 purpose which they always may effect, 
 the improvement of our moral nature. 
 Besides the qualities of patience and for- 
 titude, which are exercised only hi the 
 season of sorrow and of danger, how often 
 does it happen that our religious senti- 
 ments are for the first time acquired, or 
 are fully confirmed in those trying mo- 
 ments alone ? And, while the bounty of 
 
 / 
 
 our heavenly Father is too often received 
 with thoughtless ingratitude, how many 
 fly to him for comfort when they have 
 no other hope on which they can
 
 ON NATURAL RELIGION, 71 
 
 pend ? Shall we speak then of the evils 
 of life as affording a presumption that we 
 have no Father who careth for us, when 
 it is apparent that many of his children 
 discover him only amidst the gloom of 
 those evils ? Is it a proof that our Fa- 
 ther desires not our good, because he de- 
 sires that we should find our good only 
 in finding out him ? 
 
 The inquiry, then, which man on some 
 occasions so earnestly makes, may re*- 
 ceive an easy answer. " Shew us the 
 Father" we say, " and it sufficcth us." 
 The answer is, You behold him ; not, in- 
 deed, face to face, for can man look on 
 God and live ? but you see him in the 
 manner best adapted to your feeble 
 powers, to the station which you hold 
 among his creatures. You behold him 
 in his works ; in the happiness of the be- 
 ings which he has formed ; in the course 
 of human affairs ; even in the midst of
 
 72 ON NATURAL RELIGION. 
 
 your afflictions. Does not this suffice 
 you ? Is it not enough to inspire you 
 with gratitude, to dispel doubt, to enjoin 
 resignation, to awaken hope, and con- 
 firm faith ? 
 
 What proofs or evidences, my bre- 
 thren, can w r e desire ? Because God 
 does not make himself more fully known 
 to us, shall we not thankfully receive 
 the knowledge which we have ? Is it 
 not an immense privilege of our being 
 that we know any thing of the Father at 
 all ; and, when we consider the prodigi- 
 ous disproportion between the Creator and 
 the creature, how wonderful is even that 
 little knowledge which we possess? How 
 much this knowledge has been improved 
 by the revelation of Christ, I propose 
 hereafter to explain ; but, at present, can 
 we be deaf to the voice of nature herself; 
 and is it possible that we should not be- 
 hold her august form rising and addres- 
 sing us in the very same words of tacit
 
 ON NATURAL RELIGION. 73 
 
 reproof with which our Lord addressed 
 his disciple ? " Have I been so long time 
 tuith you, and yet have ye not known me f 
 He that hath seen me hath seen the Father ; 
 and how say ye, then, shew us the Father ?" 
 These reflections have been suggested 
 io me from contemplating the character 
 of the age in which .we live as an age 
 of philosophical inquiry. Men are no 
 longer satisfied with surveying the out- 
 ward appearances of things ; they follow 
 nature into her deepest recesses ; and, 
 both in the material system and in the 
 course of human affairs, they are eager 
 to explore those leading and general 
 laws, by which many detached and ap- 
 parently contradictory particulars may 
 be connected and reconciled. The at- 
 tempt is great, my brethren, and worthy 
 of man ; and the success which it has 
 met with in every department of human 
 knowledge encourages him to proceed;
 
 74 ON NATURAL RELIGION. 
 
 Yet why should it have happened, that 
 the noblest of all the occupations in which 
 the mind of man can be engaged, should 
 ever be suspected to have any alliance 
 with the lowest and most degrading ima- 
 gination which he can form ; and why 
 should those whose great object it is to. 
 elucidate the fair volume of creation, 
 while, with one hand, they point to the 
 order and wisdom which it displays, be 
 supposed capable of forming the vain and 
 impious design to blot out, with the other, 
 the name of its gracious author ? Why 
 should Philosophy and Religion, which 
 are so closely joined, ever be imagined 
 capable of disunion ; or why should thosq 
 who are followers of the one ever miss 
 the path which leads them to the other ? 
 I doubt not that the popular suspicion 
 which pursues tfre philosophical charac-. 
 ter, is in a great measure to be ascribed 
 jbo the inean jealousy of narrow gn4 bi^
 
 ON NATURAL RELIGION. 75 
 
 gotted opinions ; and I know that, in this 
 country at least, there are men, the pu- 
 rity of whose devotion is commensurate 
 with the extent of their science. It is, 
 however, melancholy to reflect, that any 
 foundation should have been given for so 
 black a stigma on the philosophy of our 
 age, that any " stars should have shot 
 madly from their spheres," or that any 
 name which the votaries of science repeat 
 with gratitude and veneration, should be 
 associated in our minds with the dark im- 
 pressions of impiety. It is sad to think 
 that " offences have come." " But woe to 
 
 w 
 
 those by whom the offence comcth /" These 
 prophetic words, my brethren, have, in 
 our time *, been fulfilled ; and in those 
 countries in which the investigations of 
 philosophy have been niore productive of 
 pride than of piety, the fury of the sword 
 
 * Ip07.
 
 I 
 
 ON NATURAL RELIGION. 
 
 is at last giving instructions which all the 
 beauty and beneficence of nature had in- 
 culcated in vain. Driven out from the 
 scene of his domestic repose, a wretched 
 outcast on a miserable world, more than 
 one " dark idolater of chance" is, I doubt 
 not, at this hour raising his eye to 
 heaven, and crying in the bitterness of 
 his soul, " shew us the Father" Our day, 
 my brethren, is not yet come ; and may 
 that paternal arm which has hitherto 
 been held over us, still cover our heads 
 with its protecting shield. Yet the de- 
 cree may have gone forth, and the hand- 
 writing may already have appeared upon 
 the wall. " Thou, too, hast been weighed 
 in the balance, and art found wanting." 
 
 These reflections call upon us all to be 
 serious. They call upon those who are 
 advanced in life to root out from their 
 rninds every sentiment or opinion which 
 may oppose itself to the knowledge of
 
 ON NATURAL 
 
 RELIGION;* 77- 
 
 God, to open their hearts, and to con- 
 template with renewed spirits, that migh- 
 ty display of wisdom and love which 
 every where surrounds them. If they 
 have not yet known the father, these re- 
 flections call upon them to know him 
 now ; and they send them not to any 
 hidden fountain of knowledge, to any 
 dark inquiry, but to that hook of nature 
 which is open to every eye, and which 
 many are so curious to explore. Parents 
 are called upon to impress the principles 
 of piety on the hearts of the young ; to 
 " shew them (he Father ;" and while they 
 .supply them with the means of instruc- 
 tion in every hranch of liberal knowledge, 
 to point out to them those traces of wis- 
 dom and benevolence in nature, of which 
 all science is full, and without the percep- 
 tion pf which all science is unsatisfactory 
 and dead. Teach your children to have 
 minds superior to that miserable folly
 
 78 b'ST NATURAL RELIGION, 
 
 which would represent religion as the re- 
 fuge only of the weak and ignorant ; shew 
 them, by your own example, and by the 
 example of the great and good in every 
 age, that it is the true source of all genuine 
 dignity of mind : Be not too anxious a- 
 bout their success in the paths of worldly 
 ambition, or in the acquisition of ex- 
 ternal and fallacious accomplishments : 
 inspire them, above all things, with the 
 love of God and of virtue ; " shew them 
 the Father and that will suffice them" 

 
 SERMON VI. 
 
 ON REVEALED RELIGION, 
 
 JOHN, CHAP. xiv. V. 9. 
 
 " Jesus saith unto him, have I been so long 
 time with you, mid yet hast thou not 
 known me, Philip ? He that hath seen 
 me hath seen the Father ; and how say- 
 est thou, then, shew us the Father ?" 
 
 1 HE request of Philip to our Lord, led 
 me, my brethren, in a former discourse, 
 to point out that reply which it might, 
 have received from the suggestions of na- 
 tnre, even if he to whom the request was
 
 80 ON REVEALED RELIGION. 
 
 addressed had not given the answer which 
 you have now heard. " Shew us the Fa- 
 ther (said Philip) and it sufficeth us." Na- 
 ture, as we have seen, might have re- 
 plied, you behold him " wherever you live, 
 and move, and have your being :" in " the 
 heavens, the ivork of his fingers, the sun, and 
 the moon, and the stars, which he hath or- 
 dained :" in the earth, which he " hath 
 founded upon the seas, and established upontlie 
 floods :" in " the beasts of the field, the fowl 
 of the air, and whatsoever passtth through 
 the paths of tJie seas :" in " man, of whom 
 he is mindful, and the son of man whom he 
 hath visited, whom he hath made a little low- 
 er than the angels, and hath crow?ied with 
 glory and honour" 
 
 The answer of our Lord to his disciple 
 does not at all supersede this general lan~ 
 guage of nature to all the children of 
 men ; it is, however, a different answer ; 
 and to those who are accustomed to de-
 
 ON REVEALED RELIGION. 81 
 
 rive their religious impressions from na- 
 tural appearances alone, it may perhaps 
 seem to have been in a great measure su- 
 perfluous. Yet it was a reply which 
 many wise and good men of former ages 
 had longed to hear, the anticipation of 
 which had brightened the inspirations of 
 ancient prophets and kings, and which 
 we, my brethren *, at this hour, when we 
 are preparing to fall down and worship 
 before the humble cradle of him who 
 came into the world to save us, know, I 
 trust, in what manner to prize, and to re* 
 ceive with thankfulness and joy. " Jesus 
 saith unto him, have I been so long time with 
 you, and yet hast thou not known me, Phi- 
 lip f He that hath seen m? hath seen the 
 Father ; arid how say ert' thou, then, ^W'tib 
 
 fhe Father ( ?" : ' Gfn [lt ^ 
 
 r/irjb 'fn iloiritf *v/j,I iid bfu; IO juii 
 
 ' * SewtiiUf -'AMtittJ' 
 fl ^l*'
 
 8iJ 6N REVEALED BELIGION. 
 
 It will not be expected, nor indeed 
 would it be suitable to the province of 
 the pulpit* that J should take occasion, 
 from these words, to enter into any for- 
 mal exposition of the evidences of Reve- 
 lation; It is impossible, however, to ne- 
 glect the opportunity which they afford 
 .me, of making some very general obser- 
 vationsj which may be useful to those 
 
 L I )*f J -3 
 
 who are directing their thoughts to this 
 
 ^1 J* II //\9vJ J IJjl \ } J ^ L HTIJiCJ * * * 4 ^y li * 
 
 inquiry,; f j -^ 4 ^^ 
 
 The leading ground Upon which those 
 proceed who deny the authority of reve- 
 lation is, that it is unnecessary ; and that 
 nature and reason can supply us with all 
 the religious knowledge which we re- 
 quire. Now, admitting to those who 
 maintain this opinion, that there is no- 
 thing deficient in the intimations concern- 
 ing God and his laws which we derive 
 from these sources, there still occurs an 
 important observation, which does not*
 
 OV HEVEALr.t) REUGION-i 83 
 
 seem to strike them with the force which 
 it deservest In considering the subject 
 of religion* a material distinction is to be 
 made between what it appears to us mat/ 
 be effected by the unassisted powers of 
 the human mind, and what the history 
 of mankind informs us has been actually 
 effected by them. The natural evidences 
 of religion inay appear to w very clear 
 and indisputable; and yet we know that, 
 not two thousand years ago, these evi- 
 dences were very imperfectly discerned 
 by philosophers themselves, and that 
 mankind in general were involved in the 
 grossest darkness and idolatry. 
 
 Supposing, then, that revelation added 
 nothing to the religion of nature, it yet 
 sgpms to have been necessary for intro- 
 ducing into the world clear and just views 
 of religion, at the time, and in the degree 
 in which -it was the intention of Provi- 
 dence that such views should prevail :
 
 84f ON REVEALED RliLIGIOX. 
 
 nor, certainly, have we any reason to 
 suppose that men would ever have advan- 
 ced one step in rational opinions on this 
 most important of all subjects, if Chris- 
 tianity had not opened their eyes, and 
 rendered them sensible and ashamed of 
 their folly. Even admitting, therefore, 
 that reason and philosophy might possi~ 
 bly have led men to just notions of reli- 
 gion, this at least is certain, that, in point 
 of fact, they never did so ; and that, till 
 the aera of the Christian revelation, the 
 principles of natural religion were almost 
 HS little understood, by the bulk of man- 
 kind, as the scheme of their future re- 
 demption. He > therefore, who spoke the 
 words of the text, may justly claim the 
 praise, that while these gifts of heaven 
 ikiled to produce this fruit to the wise 
 themselves, he first shewed the Father to 
 the great multitude of mankind J
 
 OX REVEALED RELISION. BV> 
 
 I do not, however, my brethren, rest 
 the cause of revelation here. I deny that 
 any description of men, the most enlight- 
 ened of the human race, can, with any 
 reason, pretend to undervalue the light 
 of Christianity ; and the words of our 
 Lord to Philip were not only adapted to 
 the capacity of the unlettered individual 
 to whom they were spoken, but may, at 
 this day, be addressed with all their ori- 
 ginal efficacy, to the best instructed and 
 most philosophical of the sons of men. 
 " He that hath seen ?nc (says our Lord) 
 hath seen the Father." A few illustrations 
 of the import of these expressions will, J 
 believe, fully establish the assertion which 
 I have now made. 
 
 In the first place, then, our Saviour 
 " shewed the Father" by exhibiting in hu- 
 man nature a model of divine perfection. 
 It is here, probably, that natural religion 
 h most obviously defective. Man feel*;
 
 86" OX IILVEALED RELIGION. 
 
 that he/ is umvorthy of his Maker ; and 
 cannot ibnn to himself any distinct or 
 satisfactory ideas of the Being to whom 
 he is eager to approach. Nature, indeed, 
 is grand and harmonious, and reflects, 
 at least from her great outlines, the image 
 of the majesty, and the goodness of God ; 
 but man is conscious in himself of disor- 
 der and corruption ; and the " si ill small 
 voice" of nature is not heard amidst the 
 earthquakes, the tempests, and the fires 
 which lay waste the human mind. It is 
 this feeling which clearly has given birth 
 to all the extravagancies of superstition. 
 Unable to resist the impulse which calls 
 upon him to bend before invisible power, 
 yet incapable, from his own imperfection*, 
 of forming any just conception of the God 
 whom it becomes him to adore, man at 
 all times, instead of exhibiting in himself 
 the image of his Maker, has represented 
 the divine nature under the infinite ra-
 
 OX REVEALED RELIGION. 87 
 
 riety of images suggested by his own 
 weakness, ignorance, and vices. Before, 
 therefore, he could become acquainted 
 with God, it seemed to be necessary that 
 he should himself appear in a form wor- 
 thy of the Deity ; nor could the Father 
 be revealed to him, while there was no 
 example in human nature of" that belor~ 
 cd Son, in whom the Father might be well 
 pleased" 
 
 Here, then, revelation supplies us with 
 a link which was wanting in the chain of 
 religious truth, and, without which, reli- 
 gion cannot be rendered firm and indis- 
 soluble in the human soul. It is in the 
 person of our Saviour alone, that the con- 
 nection between man and his Maker can 
 distinctly be traced ; that the gulph which 
 separates the Creator from his imperfect 
 creature is filled up ; and that man now 
 feels the strong and unbroken chain
 
 8 ON REVEALED &ELI.GIO& 
 
 which connects him with the throne of 
 God, and the treasures of eternity^} 
 
 How necessary this bond of union is, 
 will appear clearly from the history of 
 errors in religion, hoth in ancient and 
 modern times. The prevailing error of 
 ancient times was idolatry ; which, as I 
 have already explained, rose evidently 
 from the indistinct and wandering con- 
 ceptions of the divine nature at that time 
 incident to the mind of man. Christi- 
 anity banished idolatry for ever from 
 the world ; and this species of error can- 
 not now mislead those who depart from 
 the faith of the Gospel. They are, how- 
 ever, liable to errors fully as monstrous, 
 and perhaps more pernicious. It sel- 
 dom happens that those who abandon 
 Christianity settle in any rational form 
 of natural belief; and, when they do, their 
 systems are invariably borrowed from 
 that revelation which they pretend to un-
 
 ON REVEALED REL1&IOK. *U) 
 
 dervalue. The melancholy history of 
 the philosophy of our times, however, 
 will inform us, that they much more fre- 
 quently run into the thoughtless indiffer- 
 ence of scepticism, or even into the hor- 
 rible, perversion of blind and determined 
 atheism. The bond of Christianity being 
 broken, the mind is thrown loose to its 
 own extravagant chimeras, and the pre- 
 tender to philosophy now, no less than 
 the savage in. former times, although in 
 a. manner more perverse and laborious, 
 loses pight of the Father. 
 
 I know not, my brethren, whether, in 
 these observations, I have made myself 
 completely understood : the leading idea, 
 however, upon which they proceed is, I 
 believe, perfectly just, that natural reli- 
 gion is defective, inasmuch as it leaves a 
 wide and gloomy chasm between man 
 and his Maker, in consequence of the 
 imperfections and vices of the human,
 
 90 OX REVEALED RKLIGIOX. 
 
 character; and that this chasm is filled up 
 l>y the form of perfection exhibited in the 
 character of Jesus. The observations 
 which follow are more obvious and fa- 
 miliar. 
 
 Our Lord, in the second place, " shav- 
 ed the Father' of mankind in his Moral 
 Government. It is of the utmost impor- 
 tance for us to know, that the world is 
 governed on the principles of justice, and 
 that the great Being by whom it is con- 
 ducted, will finally render unto every man 
 
 / / 
 
 according to his works. The disorders 
 which at present prevail, are not, indeed, 
 sufficient to prevent a sound mind from 
 drawing this conclusion from the natural 
 suggestions of conscience, and from the 
 general appearance of the divine admini- 
 stration ; yet doubts upon this subject 
 
 may very naturally intervene ; and it is 
 
 ./ / / 
 
 worthy of the Father of men to give his 
 children more positive assurances
 
 lUK REVEALED RELIGION*. 1 
 
 5iich is the rule of his government. I 
 need not occupy your time with proving 
 that this is most amply done in the reli- 
 gion of Christ 
 
 In the last place, our Saviour " sluewed 
 the Father' in his Mercy. The mercy of 
 God, we may suppose from nature, will 
 be vouchsafed to all men who turn from 
 the evil of their ways ; but this, top, is 
 doubtful ; and the trembling conscience 
 of the repentant sinner requires to be as- 
 sured. Need I point out how admirably 
 ihis is effected in the religion of the Mas- 
 ier whom we serve ; how eager he expres- 
 ses himself, on all occasions, to call in the 
 wandering into his fold ; how ready the 
 Father is, lie assures us, to forgive and 
 to receive on the first symptoms of peni- 
 
 teruce ! The whole system of Christiani* 
 
 <i 
 
 ty, indeed, is founded upon this single 
 idea. Repentance, and its happy effects, 
 was the first doctrine which our Saviour
 
 9i2 ON REVEALED RELIQION. 
 
 taught, and the last doctrine, the effica- 
 cy of which he sealed with his hlood upon 
 the cross. 
 
 Much more, my brethren, might he 
 added to these important discussions; but 
 I must now leave the whole subject to 
 your own meditations. The imperfect 
 observations which I have made are, 
 however, I trust, sufficient to point out 
 some circumstances in Christianity which 
 ought to render it a subject of much 
 more attention than it is usual with many 
 to bestow upon it. In the course of these 
 observations, I have confined myself en- 
 tirely to general view's, nor have I been 
 anxious to hold out any one system of 
 Christian belief as preferable to every 
 other. It would be conducive, I believe, 
 to the interests of their common faith, if) 
 throwing aside all points of doubtful dis- 
 putation, Christians of every denomina- 
 tion would fix their eves with undivided
 
 05J REVEALED RELIGION. 93 
 
 attention on the great leading fact which 
 runs through all their creeds, that He in 
 whose name they are baptized, is the 
 pillar of fire given them to direct their 
 course through the night and the wilder- 
 ness of mortality; " the sun of ' righteous- 
 ness, ivho has risen with healing in his icings* 
 upon the darkness of their nature, in 
 one word, " the Christ, the Son of the /*> 
 ing God, whose" and whose only, " are t)i 
 words of eternal life" 
 
 In a former discourse, I took occasion 
 to express my regret that the voice of na- 
 ture should ever utter language which is 
 not heard, or that any men, especially 
 those whose reputation for science has 
 bestowed upon them a character of autho- 
 rity, should fall under the possible suspi- 
 cion that, in examining the works of the 
 Divine hand, they can be blind to the 
 discoverv of Him bv whom these works
 
 94 ON REVEALED RELIGION. 
 
 are formed. I now express a similar re- 
 gret, that any of those whose names are. 
 distinguished for letters or genius, should 
 ever have Vvritten or spoken disparaging- 
 ly of revelation ; and it is with a feeling 
 of horror that I look to the fatal effects 
 their wild and unthinking infidelity has 
 produced in the world. How often, alas ! 
 have they offended, not one> but many 
 of these little ones ; and how often in 
 one day, as in the hour of crucifixion> 
 must he whom they denied^ have ad- 
 dressed his Father in the memorable 
 words, " Father forgive therii) for they 
 know not what they do" All I can add, 
 my brethren, is to warn the young, that 
 while they read the writings of these e- 
 minent men, they should be on their 
 guard against the poison contained in 
 them: calling to their recollection, that 
 u wide is the gate, and bread is the. .tea y
 
 ON REVEALED RELlGlOX. 5 
 
 li'hich leadctk to dcstructio?i, and niany there 
 be which go in thereat ; but strait is the 
 gate, and narrow is the way which return- 
 eth unto lift, and few there pe that find 
 it." 
 
 M\l J ;\;>. \VjiV: ^iXiJQ\ 
 
 bi-no- -nil oJ L'jn'jij.1 yiljjTuJ^ti >i iio 
 
 mnn ;). 7/9! lii^- vt>dT ;!; ^'i ..'fcioj
 
 SERMON VII. 
 
 THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST. 
 
 MATTHEW, CHAP. ii. V. 11. 
 
 " And when they were entered into the 
 house, they saw the young child, with 
 Mary his mother" 
 
 AT this season *, my brethren, our at- 
 tention is naturally turned to the conside- 
 ration of those circumstances which the 
 Evangelists have related respecting our 
 Lord's nativity. They are few in num- 
 ber ; but it is impossible to imagine any 
 
 * Christmas.
 
 THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST. 97 
 
 more beautiful and interesting. How 
 much solemnity in the salutation of the 
 holy virgin by the " angel, who came unto 
 her and said, Hail ! thou that art highly fa- 
 voured, the Lord is with thee : blessed art 
 thou among women. When she saw him 
 (continues the Evangelist), she was trou- 
 bled at his saying, and cast in her mind what 
 manner of salutation this should be. And 
 the angel said unto her, Fear not Mary, for 
 thou hast found favour with God. And be- 
 hold thou shall conceive and bring forth a 
 son, and shalt call his name Jesus. He shall 
 be great, and shall be called, the Son of the 
 Highest ; and the Lord God shall give unto 
 him the throne of his father David ; and he 
 shall reign over the house of Jacob for ever, 
 and of his kingdom there shall be no eqd" 
 
 The vision of angels which appeared 
 to the shepherds at the time of our Lord's 
 birth, is another circumstance of inimi- 
 table beauty. " There were in the same 
 
 G
 
 98 THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST. 
 
 country shepherds abiding in the field, keep- 
 ing watch over their Jlock by night. And, 
 lo I the angel of the Lord came upon them, 
 
 and the glory of the Lord shone round about 
 
 i 
 them, and they were sore afraid. And the 
 
 angel said unto them, Fear not ; for, behold, 
 I bring unto you good tidings of great joy, 
 which shall be to all people. For unto you 
 is born this day, in the city of David, a Sa- 
 viour, which is Christ the Lord. And sud- 
 denly there was with the angel a multitude 
 of the heavenly host praising God, and say- 
 ing, Glory to God in the highest, and on 
 earth peace, good will toward men" 
 
 My text is taken from the account of 
 another incident, not less striking than 
 any of those already mentioned, and 
 which marks, perhaps, in still stronger 
 colours, the universal importance of that 
 event which was then transacting in the 
 world : the account I mean of the jour- 
 ney undertaken by the wise men from
 
 THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST. $<? 
 
 the East, in search of that Prince whose 
 approaching birth they had been taught 
 to expect, and guided by the star, which 
 led them on rejoicing, till it brought them 
 to the place where he was found. 
 
 The beauty and solemnity of these mi- 
 raculous occurrences are greatly enhan- 
 ced by the plain and homely character 
 of the natural appearances with which 
 they are contrasted, and with which, at 
 the same time, they so harmoniously 
 combine. The mighty event which cal- 
 led down an angel of God to visit the 
 virgin solitude of the daughter of David ; 
 w r hich brought the host of heaven to 
 speak peace and joy to the simple inno- 
 cence of shepherds ; which interrupted 
 the calm speculations of the eastern sages, 
 and impelled them to follow a miracu- 
 lous sign into a foreign land; seemed, to 
 all outward appearance, to be nothing 
 more than the birth of a child in spme of
 
 100 THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST. 
 
 the lowest circumstances of human for- 
 tune. t( When they were come into the 
 house (says the Evangelist, speaking of 
 the wise men), they saw the young child) 
 with Mary his mother." 
 
 It is possible, my brethren, that this 
 simple and unimposing form in which 
 our Saviour is first presented to us, may 
 operate with some minds to the prejudice 
 of his religion : I shall, therefore, endea- 
 vour, in a very few words, to shew that, 
 on the contrary, it affords a strong confir- 
 mation of its truth ; that it corresponds 
 exactly with the wants and wishes of 
 the human heart ; and, finally, that there 
 is a striking coincidence between this first 
 appearance of our Lord, and the whole 
 genius and spirit of Christianity. 
 
 In the first place, then, is it possible 
 that any messenger from heaven could 
 come before us in circumstances more 
 completely inconsistent with the supposi-
 
 THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST. 10] 
 
 tion of artifice or imposture ? " When 
 they were come into the house, they beheld 
 the young child, with Mary his mother." 
 What is there here to excite our most 
 jealous apprehensions, or to afford a 
 ground of suspicion to the most vigilant 
 distrust ? Is it possible that, in this 
 simple domestic scene, the seeds of de- 
 ception should be striking root ? Was the 
 mother mingling with her caresses the 
 proud thought that her son was destin- 
 ed to lead after him a deluded world ? 
 or was the infant, while he answered 
 to her smiles, dreaming of the enter- 
 prise which lay before him ? When we 
 behold a dark-minded prophet issuing 
 from the depth of solitudes and desarts, 
 infusing a lofty enthusiasm into the minds 
 of a barbarous people, and leading them 
 on to conquest and devastation, we, who 
 are beyond the sphere of the delusion, 
 can at once affirm, notwithstanding the
 
 102 THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST. 
 
 
 
 splendour of his success, that he owed it 
 to hypocrisy and deception. How differ^ 
 ent the scene here presented to us ! It 
 is humble, and makes no pretensions ; 
 but it finds its way into our souls by the 
 same passages by which truth is convey- 
 ed to them. When we are in the pre- 
 sence of " the young child, and Mary his 
 mother" do not our hearts inform us, 
 that the God of truth is not far from us ? 
 In the second place, I affirm, that the 
 very humility of this scene is the circum- 
 stance to which the human heart must 
 be most attached, however it may disap- 
 point some wandering irregularities of the 
 imagination. When the children of Is- 
 rael were terrified with those awful mani- 
 festations of the divine majesty which ac- 
 companied the promulgation of their law, 
 their words were, " Let me not hear again 
 the voice of the Lord my God, neither let me. 
 see this great fire any more, that I die not"
 
 THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST. 103 
 
 This, my brethren, is the language of 
 human nature. Encircled by the frailty 
 of the flesh, man is afraid to hold any 
 direct intercourse with the Almighty. It 
 was then that, condescending to the in- 
 firmity of his creatures, God said to 
 Moses, " / will raise them up a prophet 
 from among their brethren, like unto thee, 
 and will put my words in his mouth" 
 What the heart desires in a divine in- 
 structor is, that while he has the words 
 of God in his mouth, he should yet be 
 raised from among his brethren of man- 
 kind. I need not inform you how re- 
 markably this wish of the human heart is 
 accomplished in the whole dispensation 
 of Christianity, or how admirably the 
 character and condition of our Saviour at 
 all times correspond with the description 
 of a prophet who, possessing the words 
 of the living God, was yet subject to all 
 the feelings and affections of a man, and
 
 104 THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST. 
 
 was often severely " touched with a sense 
 of our infirmities." I am only at present 
 led to remark to you in what a pleasing 
 manner this circumstance is corroborated 
 by the little simple incident now before 
 us, and the short glimpse afforded us of 
 the infant years of Jesus, while he was 
 yet an inmate in the house of his parents, 
 and before he felt himself called upon to 
 execute the mighty designs for which 
 he was sent into the world. How beau- 
 tifully is the awful character of a superna- 
 tural instructor, softened down by these 
 means to our hearts and affections ! Can 
 we be afraid of approaching a child ? Is 
 there any thing in the house of Mary 
 which can excite our apprehension and 
 alarm ? 
 
 My third remark was, that there is a 
 very striking coincidence between this 
 first appearance of our Lord, and the 
 whole genius and spirit of Christianity.
 
 THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST. 105 
 
 It is a remarkable characteristic of our 
 religion, that while it is doing every 
 thing for the good of mankind which can 
 be done, it yet seems to be doing no- 
 thing. It resides in the hearts of the 
 faithful, and silently influences the con- 
 duct of their lives. It flows in a quiet 
 stream through nations and communities 
 of men, and by an unobserved principle 
 of improvement, refines arid beautifies 
 their manners and institutions. It is se- 
 cretly, and by slow degrees, bringing in 
 that " better kingdom, wherein dwelleth 
 eternal righteousness ;" and yet, to the eyes 
 of the world, every thing, seems to be 
 proceeding as it had done from the be- 
 ginning. With 'this gentle and unobtru- 
 sive form, in which Christianity at all 
 times appears to us, the history of its in- 
 troduction corresponds. The miracles 
 which then accompanied its progress 
 were exhibited to those only who could
 
 106 THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST. 
 
 feel their value. No vain display of pro- 
 digies interrupted the course of nature 
 and the business of the world ; no por- 
 tents of terror shook the world at the de- 
 scent of its Creator. When the Eastern 
 sages came with splendid offerings, in ex- 
 pectation of finding some royal babe, 
 they were introduced to the lowly dwel- 
 ling and the humble groupe of the text, 
 " the young child, witli Mary his mother" 
 
 Farther, my brethren, Christianity is 
 the religion of love and mercy ; and, 
 therefore, its Author is first presented to 
 us in the most amiable of all human 
 forms. It is .the religion of a pure and 
 simple heart ; and its Author first appears 
 to us in the very shape and image of 
 simplicity and innocence. " Suffer little 
 children to come unto me (says he), for of 
 such is the kingdom of heaven :" and he him- 
 self accordingly first comes to us as a little 
 child. When the law was given to the
 
 THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST. 107 
 
 Jews, it was proclaimed with circumstan- 
 ces of terror corresponding to the nature 
 of the institution. The.voice of God was 
 heard from Mount Sinai, speaking from 
 the thunders and lightnings. The gospel 
 of peace springs up to us from the cradle 
 of an infant ! I forbear, my brethren, 
 to pursue these reflections farther. Your 
 own meditations will supply their defi- 
 ciencies. Permit me rather, before I 
 conclude, to suggest to your thoughts a 
 few observations of a more practical ten- 
 dency. 
 
 You are now, then, advancing to the 
 contemplation of a scene altogether hea- 
 venly, and glorious, and joyful : no other 
 than the union of heaven and earth, 
 the descent of the First-born from the 
 bosom of his everlasting Father into the 
 mortal arms of maternal love. You are 
 advancing to behold whatever is pure, 
 and simple, and wise among men, bend-
 
 108 THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST. 
 
 ing around the cradle of the infant Savi- 
 our ; to behold the heavens opening, and 
 a multitude of the heavenly host descend- 
 ing, and to hear that hymn of praise 
 which has for ever encircled the eternal 
 throne, now uniting to the strain of 
 " Glory to God in the highest," the welcome 
 sounds of " peace on earth, and good will 
 towards men." Such are the scenes of 
 moral and celestial beauty which the 
 Church is now disclosing to you ; and 
 such the real magnificence, unpolluted 
 by the vain additions of worldly splen- 
 dour, with which, when she throws open 
 her " everlasting doors" you behold " the 
 King of glory enter in" 
 
 Other scenes are indeed behind. You 
 must yet follow your Sovereign through 
 his triumphant sufferings, and view him 
 when he is crowned only with thorns, and 
 elevated in agony on the cross. These 
 scenes you are about to anticipate at the
 
 THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST. 109 
 
 altar, and I pray to God that their influ- 
 ence may be felt on every heart. The 
 cross, my brethren, will there remind 
 you, that you have afflictions to endure, 
 and sins to be repented of ; but it will re- 
 cal these recollections to your minds, ac- 
 companied with the powerful consolation, 
 that one has gone before you who will 
 strengthen you in all your sufferings, and 
 who has obtained for you the remission 
 of your sins. Persevere, therefore, in 
 your Christian profession : let not the 
 cross of Christ be to you a " stumbling- 
 block" or "foolishness" When that scene 
 of humiliation is over, you will again be- 
 hold the glories of heaven unveiled, and 
 him who bowed his head for your sakes up- 
 on the cross, again rising triumphant from 
 the darkness of the giave ; and you will 
 hear his divine voice calling upon you 
 to follow him, without terror or distrust, 
 through " the valley of the shadow of death."
 
 1 10 THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST. 
 
 Follow him then in life and in death ; and 
 when all these present things shall have 
 passed away, and when time shall be no 
 more, you will yet reign with him through 
 the ages of eternity. 
 
 But it is not merely the Church, my 
 brethren, which at this time invites us to 
 participate in its joys. The world, too, 
 has joys of its own ; and they, I fear, 
 commonly gain the precedence in our 
 minds. Yet, at this auspicious season, 
 there is one very beautiful link by which 
 the Church and the world are connected. 
 You have it in my text. " When they 
 were come into the house, they beheld the 
 young child, with Mary his mother? Go, 
 then, and enjoy the society of families 
 and friends, the meeting of mothers and 
 their children. let go in the spirit of 
 religion, not with the thoughtless ingra- 
 titude of man. Go as the children of 
 God, and acknowledge amidst your en-
 
 THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST. Ill 
 
 / 
 
 joyments the hand from which they 
 flow ; and when you look upon the 
 countenances of those whom you love 
 upon earth, breathe the secret prayer 
 that you may yet meet and love them 
 in heaven. 
 
 One farther observation and I have 
 done. The season which brings joy and 
 gladness to us, brings suffering to many 
 of our brethren. The poor, alas ! will 
 too certainly be subjected to inclemency 
 and hardship, while we are giving way 
 to mirth and gaiety. Yet you know, 
 that he whose birth you now comemo- 
 rate, although born a king, came not 
 with the distinctions of rank and fortune : 
 they who went to seek for him found 
 him not surrounded with the splendours 
 of royalty : they entered into a cottage, 
 and found only a solitary woman and 
 her child. Go, then, my brethren, but 
 go not to the house of feasting alonfc :
 
 112 THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST. 
 
 enter likewise the dwellings of the poor, 
 and seek there for " the young child, and 
 Mary his mother" Bring forth there 
 your gifts, and remember to your com- 
 fort, that inasmuch " as ye do good to one 
 of the least of these his brethren, ye have 
 done it unto him."
 
 SERMON VIII. 
 
 ON MAN AS A RATIONAL AND MORAL BEING. 
 
 JOB, xxxii. 8. 
 
 '* But there is a spirit in man, and the in*- 
 spiration of the Almighty giveth them 
 understanding? 
 
 W HILE it is the object of some philoso- 
 phical systems to degrade man nearly to 
 a level with the brutes, the sacred writ- 
 ings- always represent him as " little lower 
 than the angels" They affirm, indeed, 
 that he lias lost the original purity of his 
 nature ; that he is corrupt and fallen ; but 
 n
 
 1 14 ON MAN AS A RATIONAL 
 
 this melancholy truth they never enforce 
 with malignant triumph, nor make it the 
 subject of indecent raillery. On the con- 
 trary, while they inform him plainly of 
 the misfortune attending his condition, 
 and of the incalculable evils of which it 
 may be the cause, they console him wih 
 the account of those great exertions 
 which divine mercy has made in his be- 
 half) and endeavour to make him keep 
 pace with those exertions, by elevating 
 his mind to a sense of what he was, and 
 by bringing before him all those traces 
 of grandeur and excellence in his nature 
 which still, however faintly, shadow out 
 the image of God. " When I consider 
 (says David) the heavens, the ivork of thy 
 fingers, the moon and the stars, .which thou 
 hast ordained, what is man that tliou art 
 mindful of him, and the son of man that 
 thou visitest him ? For thou hast made him 
 a little lower than the angels, and hast crown-
 
 AND MORAL BEING. 1 15 
 
 ed him with glory and honour. Thou mad- 
 cst him to have dominion over the works of 
 thy hands ; thou hast put all things under 
 his feet." ' 
 
 In discoursing from the text, I propose, 
 first, to assert the inherent worthiness of 
 our nature ; and, secondly, to draw prac- 
 tical inferences from the doctrine. 
 
 Under the first head I shall consider 
 man in three views, as a Rational/ a Mo- 
 ral, and a Religious being. 
 
 " There is a spirit in man, and the inspi- 
 ration of the Almighty giveth him under- 
 standing" How are we otherwise to ac- 
 
 o 
 
 count for that superiority which man has 
 acquired over all the other inhabitants of 
 this world ? Inferior in strength to many, 
 passing a long period of weakness and in- 
 fancy, how has this being been enabled 
 to protect himself from the ferocity of the 
 lion and the tiger ; and why are these 
 animals fugitives in the woods, while he
 
 116 ON MAN AS A RATIONAL 
 
 is the Lord of the earth ? What reason 
 can we give but this, that while the ani- 
 mals follow merely the impulses of appe- 
 tite, and walk in the unvarying road of 
 blind instinct, the mind of man rushes 
 into futurity, and forms innumerable de- 
 vices for accomplishing its deliberate 
 designs; that, long before the occasion 
 comes, it has foreseen the plan of con- 
 duct, and has supplied, by artificial as- 
 sistances, the defects of natural strength. 
 Thus, in the lowest conditions of human 
 society, there is always a marked pre- 
 eminence in man over the other animals : 
 in him there are at all times, however 
 they may occasionally be clouded and 
 obscured, indications of invention and 
 design; of a mind possessing in some de- 
 gree a creative energy, and so far re- 
 semblingthat supreme Intelligence which 
 deviled the immense assemblage of ex-
 
 AND MORAL BEING, 11? 
 
 istences that compose this prodigious uni- 
 verse. 
 
 The effects of this power in man are 
 by no means small and insignificant. 
 Even in the savage state he builds his 
 hut; he subdues the beasts of the forest, 
 and assembles about him many simple 
 conveniences. While he is yet remote 
 from what we call civilization, the native 
 grandeur of the human mind shews itself 
 in bold exertions of genius ; and as he 
 proceeds in his career, man constantly 
 discovers new resources. Into whatever 
 situation he is brought, he brings along 
 with him a mind equal to it ; and the 
 same creature that, on his first appear- 
 ance, seemed but ill qualified to contend 
 with the other animals for a precarious 
 subsistence in the woods, is afterwards seen 
 to sit in the palaces of kings ; to guide his 
 adventurous prow across the ocean ; to 
 make the earth render him the yearly
 
 T18 ON MAN AS A RATIONAL 
 
 return of his labour ; to form enlighten- 
 ed plans of policy ; to regulate the deli- 
 berations of senates ; to count the num- 
 ber of the stars ; and to reflect on the 
 workings of his own mind. 
 
 Now, what is this power, the effects 
 of which are at all times so much supe- 
 rior to the operations of other animated 
 beings, and which, in the course of ages, 
 seems to separate man from the brutes 
 almost as far as from the trees or from 
 the rocks ? Is it a principle not differing 
 in kind from their regular and constant 
 instincts, although at last it produces these 
 effects by some strange concurrence of ac- 
 cidents? Or is it not rather, w r hat the text 
 declares it to be, " a spirit in 7nan, the in* 
 spiration of the Almighty ?" 
 
 Going on the principles of natural rea- 
 son, ^yhat, indeed, is it that produces 
 in our minds a belief of the existence of 
 the supreme God, but the perception that
 
 AND MORAL BEING. 11$ 
 
 the world which we inhabit bears strong 
 indications of design and intelligence 
 having been employed in its formation ? 
 It is because we perceive, in this beauti- 
 ful world, some resemblance to the works 
 of our own hands, that we conclude it to 
 be the contrivance of a Being in some re- 
 spects like to ourselves. Our connection 
 with God is impressed on our minds by 
 the very proofs which bring us a l>:now- 
 ledge of his existence ; and we could not 
 know that there was such a Being, unless 
 we tried his works by the scale of our 
 own reason. 
 
 Examine, on the contrary, what our 
 feelings are when we look to the opera- 
 tions of the lower animals. In their in- 
 stincts we perceive, no doubt, much cu- 
 rious contrivance ; but it occurs to us at 
 once, that the contrivance is not their 
 own ; that it proceeds without design on 
 their part ; and that, in fact, they are but
 
 120 ON MAN AS A RATIONAL 
 
 a sort of machines in the hands of a supe- 
 rior power. We immediately, therefore, 
 perceive that there is a part of our nature 
 in which we bear no relation to them ; 
 and, in following out the proofs of the 
 existence of God, we see that there is a 
 part in his nature in which he must he 
 related to us. That part -is reason and 
 intelligence. To this principle w r e neces- 
 sarily ascribe all the artifice and contri- 
 vance discernible in the order of the uni- 
 verse ; and we are conscious that this is 
 a principle which we ourselves exert in 
 our most important actions. Thus, from 
 the consideration of his rational powers, 
 man discovers one of the ties which bind 
 him to the Father of nature ; one of the 
 analogies which he bears to the most ex- 
 alted of all Beings ; one strong lineament 
 of that divine image after which he was 
 originally formed.
 
 AND MORAL BEING. 121 
 
 flie same great truth will appear in a 
 more striking light, if we proceed to 
 consider man, farther, as a Moral being. 
 
 While the other animals follow blindly 
 the impulse of appetite, without discern- 
 ing the tendency of their actions, there is 
 impressed on the mind of man a rule by 
 which he judges himself a sense of right 
 and wrong in conduct, by which he be^ 
 comes conscious that he is the object 
 either of love and esteem, or of contempt 
 and hatred. While he attends to this 
 monitor within, he is strongly incited to 
 take the good and honourable part, and 
 to spurn at every thing which is unjust, 
 despicable, and shameful. Whenever 
 this ruling principle of his actions obtains 
 a due force in his mind, man at times 
 displays the most estimable qualities, and 
 is evidently a being to be in a high de- 
 gree respected and loved. Whatever 
 may be the real case of the world in ge-r
 
 122 OX MAN AS A RATIONAL 
 
 neral, yet the many examples with wffich 
 history, or our own observation may sup- 
 ply us, of men truly and greatly virtuous, 
 shew clearly what human nature is ca- 
 pable of; what admirable fruits it may 
 bear-; how many traces, in its moral ca- 
 pacity, it may exhibit of the workman- 
 ship of the divine hand. And these 
 traces are not confined to any particular 
 ages and countries ; but at all times, and 
 in every region, under all forms of reli- 
 gion and government, in savage and in 
 civilized society, the native goodness of 
 the human heart has had many opportu- 
 nities of displaying itself. 
 
 Now, my brethren, let us reflect on 
 the very high dignity and importance of 
 this part of our constitution ; how much 
 it elevates us above the other creatures ; 
 how close a connection it forms between 
 us and the Almighty ! Do not our na- 
 tural feelings assure us, that those quali-
 
 AND MORAL BEING. 
 
 ties which are the objects of esteem, of 
 love, of reverence, are by far the high- 
 est and most dignified qualities which 
 anv being can possess, and that, without 
 these, all other qualifications are abso- 
 lutely trivial and insignificant ? The 
 moral attributes, therefore, are in fact 
 those alone which command our real ve- 
 neration in the divine nature itself; for 
 whatever might be the intelligence or the 
 power of the Deity, unless he were also 
 good, we might, indeed, regard him with 
 fear or wonder, but it is evident we could 
 not reverence or adore him. Reason 
 and intelligence, accordingly, however 
 lofty and sublime a thing it may be, is 
 yet truly admirable and valuable, only 
 when it acts in subservience to moral 
 goodness ; and a being who is capable of 
 moral goodness, who has a sense of right 
 and wrong impressed on his mind, evi-
 
 124 ON MAN AS A RATIONAL 
 
 dently possesses, or at least is able to ac- 
 quire, the highest and most excellent of 
 all possible qualifications. 
 
 What, then, can this part of our na- 
 ture be, other than " a spirit in man, the 
 inspiration of the Almighty " How are 
 we here exalted above all the other crea- 
 tures around us, and what kind of philo- 
 sophy is that which would pretend to ac- 
 count for our moral feelings from any 
 thing which we possess in common with 
 them ? How can w r e derive, except from 
 God himself, except from the spirit which 
 he has breathed into man, any feeling 
 of those excellencies, any love for, or 
 any aspiration after that goodness which 
 indisputably constitutes his own greatest 
 attribute ? [s not our relationship to the 
 divine nature apparent in this, that we 
 alone, of all the creatures breathing upon 
 the earth, are capable of having any re- 
 Jish of those perfections which alone ren-
 
 AND MORAL BEING. 125 
 
 der God himself the object of worship 
 and love ? 
 
 I should now proceed to consider man 
 as a Religious being ; but this branch of 
 the subject, and the practical inferences 
 to be drawn from the whole doctrine, I 
 must defer till a future occasion. I shall 
 only remark farther at present, that in- 
 quiries such as those in which we have 
 been engaged, are by no means incon- 
 sistent with the business of this place ; 
 nor are the reflections in which we have 
 indulged in any respect contrary to the 
 peculiar doctrines of the Christian faith. 
 Although it is the great object of our re- 
 ligion to represent man as fallen, and as 
 requiring his nature to be renewed, yet 
 this supposes human nature to be ori- 
 ginally good, and worthy of the divine 
 care and protection. It supposes the vi- 
 tiation not to be incurable ; and, there- 
 lore, it is highly reasonable, and of im-
 
 126 OX MAN AS A RATIOXAL, &C. 
 
 portant service to religion, to consider 
 what our nature is in itself, independent- 
 ly of the accidental corruption into which 
 it is fallen. It is surely delightful to turn 
 our eyes from the actual vice and folly 
 prevalent in the world, and to discover 
 in the mind of man those fountains of 
 wisdom and goodness which were origi- 
 ginally placed there by his Maker, and 
 which still remain, however the waters 
 which have flowed from them may have 
 been stained and poisoned. As St Paul, 
 speaking with triumphant exultation of 
 his apostolic mission says, " / magnify 
 my office," so, I believe, it is the part of 
 a good man to magnify his nature; and 
 the higher estimation he forms of that, 
 the more will he regret all those failures 
 in his own conduct, which bring dis- 
 grace on a work at first so admirably 
 framed.
 
 SERMON IX. 
 
 N MAN AS A RELIGIOUS BEING, 
 
 JOB, xxxii. 8. 
 
 " But tJiere is a spirit in man, and the m- 
 spiration of the Almighty giveih theirs 
 understanding" 
 
 J N discoursing on a- former occasion from 
 these words, I called your attention to 
 two striking views of human nature, and 
 contemplated the dignity of man as a Ra- 
 tional and Moral being. As possessed of 
 reason, he claims a decided superiority 
 over all the qther inhabitants of this globe,
 
 128 ON MAN AS A RELIGIOUS BEIXG. 
 
 and carries about with him a principle 
 which bears an affinity to that supreme 
 Intelligence from which the universe it- 
 self proceeded. As endowed with moral 
 perception and sentiment, he is capable 
 of acquiring qualities the most estimable 
 and amiable ; and exhibits traces of that 
 Goodness which, in its perfect form, we 
 ascribe to God as his most glorious attri- 
 bute. In each of these aspects, therefore, 
 we discover the connection between man 
 and his Creator, and are prepared to say 
 with Moses, that " God made man after 
 his own image" 
 
 There is still another feature of our na- 
 ture, my brethren, in -which this lofty re- 
 lationship is still more strongly expressed. 
 The connexion not only exists ; but it is 
 felt : man has not only received under- 
 standing from the inspiration of the Al- 
 mighty ; but he knows that it is so ; and 
 he is prompted by nature to lift up his
 
 ON MAN AS A RELIGIOUS BEING. 129 
 
 thoughts to the contemplation of that 
 great Being who conferred upon him so 
 high a pre-eminence. It is here that we 
 find in the mind of man something inex- 
 pressibly sublime, something that ele- 
 vates him far above all that is little and 
 perishing upon earth, and connects him 
 by the ties of the heart with the eternal 
 Ruler of the heavens. 
 
 This principle it is which distinguishes 
 us from the lower animals, even more than 
 our reason or our moral perceptions. In - 
 their operations, something like reason may 
 perhaps at times be found ; and if not mo- 
 ral feeling, yet kind affection ; but religion 
 is the grand prerogative of man. He 
 alone, of all the creatures which inhabit 
 the earth, lifts his eye to heaven ; and 
 while he deigns not to hold any inter- 
 course with the beasts of the field, he yet 
 thinks it not presumption to address him- 
 self to the unknown God. Wherever 
 
 i
 
 130 ON MAN AS A RELIGIOUS BEING, 
 
 man exists, there,too, you will find religion. 
 You will find states of society in the low- 
 est and most abject condition, as far as 
 mental improvement, or the comforts of 
 life are concerned ; but where will you 
 not find the worshipper and the temple ? 
 In vain have some sceptical reasoners 
 endeavoured to throw a cloud over this 
 beautiful fact, by collecting into one 
 view all the follies of superstition ; and 
 thus attempting to shew that the religion 
 of man is rather a proof of the weakness 
 than of the loftiness of his nature. The 
 extravagancies of superstition are indeed 
 a perplexing scene ; and it must be own- 
 ed, that the vices and follies of man have 
 shewn themselves as frequently in the 
 midst of his religious sentiments as in any 
 other part of his character. Yet the per- 
 versions of religion ought never to be 
 treated in a light and careless strain ; 
 they are rather objects of pity : or, if any
 
 OX MAX AS A RELIGIOUS BEING. J3I 
 
 thing like scorn should be applied to 
 them, it ought to be mingled with that 
 deep indignation and regret, with which 
 the strong colouring of the prophet Isaiah 
 exposes the idolatry of the nations ? 
 
 ' They that make a graven Image (says 
 he) are all of them vanity, and their delec- 
 table things shall not profit, and they are 
 their own 'witnesses 1 ; they see not, nor know, 
 that they may be ashamed. Who hath form- 
 ed a God) or molten a graven Image that is 
 profitable for nothing f Behold all his fel- 
 lows shall be ashamed : and the workmen 
 they are of men : let them all be gathered 
 together, let them stand up : yet they shall 
 fear, and they shall be ashamed together. 
 The smith with the tongs, both worketh 
 In the coals, and fashloneth It with hammers, 
 and worketh It with the strength of his 
 arms ; yea he is hungry, and his strength 
 faileth ; he drlnketh no water, and Is faint. 
 The carpenter stretcheth out his ride, he
 
 132 ON MAX .AS A KELIGIOUS BEING. 
 
 marketh it out with a line, hefitteth it with 
 planes, and he marktth it out with a com- 
 pass, and maketh it after the figure of a man, 
 according to the beauty of a man, that it may 
 remain in the house. He heweth him down 
 cedars, and taketh the cypress and the oak, 
 which he strengtheneth for himself, among 
 the trees of the forest ; he planteth an ash, 
 and the rain doth nourish it. Then shall it 
 be for a man to burn ; for he will take there* 
 of and warm himself; yea he kindleth it and 
 baketh bread -, yea, he maketh a god and ivor-. 
 shippeth it, he maketh it a graven image, 
 andfalhth down thereto. He burneth part 
 thereof in the Jire ; with part thereof he 
 e ateth flesh ; he roasteth roast and is satisfied; 
 yea, he warmeth himself, and saith, aha, I 
 am warm, I have seen the fire. And the resi^ 
 due thereof he maketh a god, even his graven 
 image : he falleth down tinto it, and wor-, 
 shippeth it, and prayeth unto it, and saith, 
 deliver me, for thou art my god. They
 
 ON MAft AS A RELIGIOUS BEING. 133 
 
 have not known nor understood, for he hath 
 shut their eyes that they cannot see, and their 
 hearts that they cannot understand. And 
 none considereth in his heart, neither is there 
 knowledge nor understanding to say, I have 
 burnt part of it in thejire ; yea, also, I have 
 baked bread upon the coals thereof : I have 
 roasted flesh and eaten it, and shall I make 
 the residue thereof an abomination f shall 
 I fall down to the stock of a tree f He feed- 
 eth of ashes : a deceived heart hath turned 
 him aside, that he cannot deliver his soul, 
 nor say, is there not a lie in my right hand ?" 
 Is. Chap. xliv. 
 
 No doubt, my brethren, however de- 
 grading it may be, this is but too true a 
 picture ; and man, unenlightened by re- 
 velation, instead of discovering " the in- 
 risible things of God, which, from the crea- 
 tion of the world, are clearly seen, being un- 
 derstood by the things that arc made,' man 
 has at all times " changed the glory of the
 
 134 ON HAN AS A RELIGIOUS BEIXG. 
 
 uncorruptible God info an image mack like 
 to corruptible man, and to birds, and four- 
 footed beasts, and creeping things? Yet, 
 whatever may be the cause of this error, 
 
 9 
 
 whether his ignorance may partly excuse 
 it, or the corruption of his nature may 
 necessarily infuse into all his conceptions 
 of the Deity something that is debasing, 
 and trivial, and low; however we are to 
 account for such superstitious delusions, 
 still it is plain that man must find a Gocl ; 
 and if a " deceived heart hath turned him 
 aside that he cannot deliver his soul, nor 
 Kay, is there not a lie in my right hand f" 
 he will yet rather fall down to the stock 
 of a tree, than want an opportunity of 
 giving scope to the religious sentiments 
 of his nature. -Lx/t 
 
 In fact, therefore, the histories of hu- 
 man superstition, although they contain 
 many indications of the inability of man 
 tq work out for himself any regular and
 
 ON T MAN AS A RELIGIOUS BEING. 135 
 
 consistent scheme of religion, without as- 
 sistance from above, yet prove more 
 strongly than even the best constructed 
 systems of natural religion, that he is by 
 nature a Religious Being; that, in the low- 
 est and most degraded condition of savage 
 life, he yet hears a voice which calls him 
 to worship and adore : and where is the 
 wonder i in the perplexity of his 
 thoughts, he should rather believe that 
 the object of his devotion was to be found 
 in the wind, inthe earthquake, or in the 
 fire, than in the "still small voice" which 
 speaks from the majestic harmony of na- 
 ture ? Were religion only to be found as 
 it is discovered by reason, there might 
 be some pretext for saying that it is a 
 beautiful invention of philosophers ; but 
 when w r e discover it in every shape ; 
 operating in some measure wherever hu- 
 man beings exist ; twisted, so to speak, 
 with the cords of their hearts ; what can
 
 136 ON MAX AS A RELIGIOUS BEING. 
 
 we conclude, but that it was originally 
 interwoven with these by him who form- 
 ed them? 
 
 Here, then, likewise, my brethren, we 
 perceive " the spirit in man, the inspiration 
 of the Almighty :" a spirit, indeed, cloud- 
 ed and obscured, struggling with dark- 
 ness, and fettered by sin, yet aiming at 
 lofty things, and striving to regain some 
 glimpses of that divine form, which was 
 accustomed to walk with man while yet 
 in the garden of primaeval innocence *. ', 
 
 * These observations were suggested to me by the fol- 
 lowing profound and eloquent passage in Mr Stewart's 
 (i Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind," for 
 the length of which I need make no apology. After 
 quoting some passages from Mr Hume, Mr Stewart pro. 
 ceeds as follows : " What is the inference to which we 
 are led by these observations ? Is it (to use the words of 
 this ingenious writer) that the whole is a riddle, an en- 
 igna, an inexplicable mystery, and that doubt, uncertain- 
 ty, and suspense, appear the only result of our most ac 
 curate scrutiny concerning this subject ? Or should not
 
 ON MAN AS A RELIGIOUS BEING. 137 
 
 Upon this subject I will only remark 
 farther, that, as a religious being, man 
 assumes a character of importance to 
 
 rather the melancholy histories which he has exhibited of 
 the follies and caprices of superstition, direct our atten- 
 tion to those sacred and indelible characters on the human 
 mind, which all these perTersions of reason are unable to 
 obliterate ; like that image of himself, which Phidias wish, 
 ed to perpetuate, by stamping it so deeply on the buckler 
 of his Minerva, " ut nemo delere possit aut divellere qui 
 totam statuam non imminueret." In truth, the more 
 striking the contradictions, and the more ludicrous the 
 ceremonies to which the pride of human reason has thus 
 been reconciled, the stronger is our evidence that religion 
 has a foundation in the nature man. When the greatest of 
 modern philosophers * declares, that <e he would rather 
 believe all the fables in the Legend, and the Talmud, and 
 the Alcoran, than that this universal frame is without 
 mind j" he has expressed the same feeling which in all ages 
 and nations has led good men, unaccustomed to reasoning, 
 to an implicit faith in the creed of their infancy ; a feeling 
 which affords an evidence of the existence of the Deity, in. 
 
 * Lord Bacon, in hifc Essay-
 
 138 ON MAN AS A RELIGIOUS BEING. 
 
 which no bounds can be placed. Whea 
 his thoughts rise to the contemplation of 
 God, he is likewise led to anticipate that 
 
 comparably more striking than if, unmixed with erro , 
 and undebascd with superstition, this most important of 
 all principles had commanded the universal assent of man- 
 kind. Where are the other truths, in the whole circle of 
 the sciences, which are so essential to human happiness as 
 to procure an easy access, not only for themselves, but 
 for whatever opinions may happen to be blended with 
 them ? Where are the truths so venerable and command, 
 ing, as to impart their own sublimity to every trifling 
 memorial which recals them to our remembrance ; to be- 
 stow solemnity and elevation on every mode of expression 
 by which they are conveyed; and which, in whatever 
 scene they have habitually occupied the thoughts, conse- 
 crate every object which it presents to our senses, and the 
 very ground we have been accustomed to tread ? To at- 
 tempt to weaken the authority of such impressions, by a- 
 detail of the endless variety of forms which they derive 
 from casual associations, is surely an employment unsuit- 
 able to the dignity of philosophy. To the vulgar it may 
 be amusing in this, as in other instances, to indulge their 
 wonder at what is new or uncommon ; but to the philoso- 
 pher it belongs to perceive, under all these various dis-
 
 ON MAS AS A RELIGIOUS BEING. 139 
 
 continuance of existence in himself which 
 he necessarily ascribes to the Deity. 
 Reason might be doomed to perish ; vir- 
 tue itself might be lost for ever in the 
 dust; but faith looks beyond mortality, 
 and beholds scenes of grandeur and glory 
 opening before its eye, which have no 
 termination, and are darkened by no 
 cloud. I am sensible, my brethen, that 
 I cannot do justice to this lofty feature 
 in man, this part of his nature which in- 
 deed " covers him with glory and honour.* 1 
 I leave it, therefore, to your own medi- 
 tations, and shall close the whole subject 
 of discourse with some reflections of a 
 practical tendency. 
 
 guises, the workings of the same common nature ; and in 
 the superstitions of Egypt, no less than in the lofty vi- 
 sions of Plato, to recognise the existence of those moral 
 ties which unite the heart of man to the A.uthor of his be- 
 ing." Elements of th Philosophy of the Human Hind, 
 Second Ed. p. 368-370.
 
 140 ON MAN AS A RELIGIOUS BEING. % 
 
 First, then, I address myself to the 
 young, to those who, in this seat of libe- 
 ral education, have perhaps been lately 
 engaged with inquiries and studies which 
 have enlarged the capacity of their minds, 
 and opened an unlimited range to the na- 
 tural freedom of their thoughts. To their 
 ardent eyes have been unveiled the se- 
 cret laws of an orderly universe ; and 
 they have beheld, with equal admira- 
 tion, the magnificent fabric of the human 
 mind. From such studies, conducted as 
 they hitherto have been, they must have 
 arisen with no mean impressions of 
 the dignity of that intellectual nature 
 which could thus be employed ; and their 
 own experience must have told them, 
 that there are speculations which the hu- 
 man understanding can reach, and which 
 yet seem adapted to a being but " a little 
 ioicer than the angels" Let them, there- 
 fore, retain these exalted feelings, and
 
 OX MAX AS A RELIGIOUS BEING. 141 
 
 conduct all their future inquiries with a 
 becoming reverence for the nature to 
 which they belong. The advice is not 
 unseasonable ; for I believe it will be dis- 
 covered, that all those monstrous perver- 
 sions of opinion wkh which the present 
 times abound, may be traced to the va- 
 nity of individuals, who, forgetting their 
 real dignity as men, have sought for a 
 despicable celebrity, by starting out from 
 their species, and affecting some sort of 
 private and incommunicable perfection of 
 intelligence. From this source, especially, 
 has flowed that torrent of declamation 
 and folly which has been poured out on 
 the subject of religious belief, a subject 
 with respect to which it is certainly the 
 duty of those who have opportunity to 
 " prove all things ;" but it is still more 
 their duty, to " holdfast that which is good." 
 In such inquiries the young naturally at- 
 tach themselves to those in whose wis-
 
 142 ON MAX AS A RELIGIOUS BEING. 
 
 dom thejr can confide ; and it has unfortu- 
 nately happened, that the champions of 
 infidelity in our age have had something 
 specious and liheral in their manner : 
 
 But all is false and hollow, tho* their tongues 
 Drop manna, and can make the worse appear 
 The better reason for their thoughts are low. 
 
 In the second place, the contemplation 
 of the high rank which man holds in the 
 scale of beings, ought to make us all 
 more deeply sensible of the value and 
 importance of Christianity, which has 
 brought immortality to light, and has 
 made all the future prospects of the hu- 
 man race correspond with whatever is 
 great in their present condition. 
 
 There is a voice in every breast which 
 assures us, that we are formed after no 
 mean model ; that man does not occupy a 
 common place in the theatre of nature ; 
 and that there is a spirit in him superior to 
 that of the beasts which perish.
 
 ON MAN AS A RELIGIOUS BEING. 143 
 
 ponding to this natural impression, the 
 revelation of Christ informs us of lofty 
 things. It tells us that the only Son of 
 God took upon him the nature, not of 
 angels, hut of man ; and that, after hav- 
 ing lived and died for the good of his 
 brethren of mankind, he opened up to 
 them the gates of immortality. These, 
 my brethren, are great discoveries ; jet 
 they are discoveries which we are pre- 
 pared by nature to receive. They are dis- 
 coveries of boundless beneficence in God ; 
 yet of a beneficence which man has at 
 all times experienced, and which, in these 
 revelations, has only completed a work 
 which would otherwise have appeared 
 imperfect. Be it our part, therefore, 
 to embrace, with thankful and believing 
 hearts, those glad tidings of salvation; and, 
 fixing our eyes on " the author and finish- 
 er of our faith" to behold exemplified in
 
 144 ON MAN AS A RELIGIOUS BEING. 
 
 him the real greatness and dignity of 
 man. 
 
 Finally, let us remember, that although 
 man is made " but a little loicer than the 
 angels," he may yet fall into the lowest 
 degradation ; and whether we look a- 
 round us, or into our own hearts, let us 
 be aware that we shall too often see and 
 feel corruptions \vhich are unworthy of 
 the nature which we have received. One 
 thing, and one alone, can reduce, and 
 lias reduced this lofty nature to the basest 
 condition : Not poverty, not disease, not 
 death, but sin, If, then, we would in 
 any degree secure the honours of our be- 
 ing, there is one exertion in which we 
 ought strenuously to labour, the exer- 
 tion of virtue. This is our true occupation, 
 that which of all others is suited to a be- 
 ing whose spirit is the inspiration of the 
 Almighty. " Whatsoever things, therefore, 
 are true, whatsoever things are honest,
 
 ON MAN AS A RELIGIOUS BEING. 145 
 
 soever things are just, whatsoever things are 
 pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatso- 
 ever things are of good report ; if there be 
 any virtue, and if there be any praise, think 
 on these things those things which ye have 
 both learned and received, and heard and 
 seen, do, and the God of peace shall be with 
 you." 
 
 K
 
 SERMON X. 
 
 PROOFS OF IMMORTALITY FROM REASON. 
 
 II. TIM. 1. 10. 
 
 " And hath brought life and immortality t& 
 light through the gospel" 
 
 ROM these words it is not meant to be 
 inferred, that, independently of the gos- 
 pel, men have no intimations of a future 
 state, but only that these intimations are 
 dark and obscure, and that our Saviour 
 brought this important truth into full light 
 and certainty. On a point of so much 
 consequence, it is useful to collect proofs
 
 PROOFS OF IMMORTALITY, &C. 147 
 
 from every quarter, from natural reason 
 as well as from revelation ; and, indeed, 
 it is only by comparing together those 
 different sources of information, that we 
 can justly appreciate the value of that 
 knowledge with which Christianity has 
 supplied us. 
 
 Let us then begin with the light of na- 
 ture, and see how far it will lead us to the 
 sublime conclusion, that we are immortal 
 beings ; that this life is but the passage to 
 another ; and that the grave, with all its 
 horrors, is the gate which opens on an 
 eternal world. 
 
 Consider, first, the universality of this 
 belief; that, in some shape or other, it is 
 to be found among all nations ; that men 
 have always looked beyond the tomb, and 
 have never been able to reconcile them- 
 selves to the notion, that death was the 
 eternal termination of their existence. 
 Whence this belief? How should so pro-
 
 148 PROOFS OF IMMORTALITY 
 
 digious a supposition have fastened itself 
 so closely to the mind of a being who is 
 only of yesterday, and who to-morrow 
 may be laid in the dust ? What is there 
 in this span of life, which could thus lead 
 us to presume on an eternity ? From a 
 scene which promises so little, whence 
 should those mighty expectations arise ? 
 
 In vain will it be said, that man is at 
 all times chimerical ; that his imagination 
 is ever stretching beyond the real state of 
 his condition ; that he hopes and fears he 
 knows not what ; and that no regular con- 
 clusions can be drawn from the extrava- 
 gant opinions into which he runs. Man, 
 no doubt, is subject to many illusions of 
 the fancy, and perhaps seldom sees any 
 truth clearly and as it is ; yet it is a maxim 
 of the wise, that no opinion can gain a 
 steady and permanent footing in the hu- 
 man mind, which has not some founda- 
 tion in reality, with whatever errors it
 
 FROM REASON. 149 
 
 may happen to be mixed. Accordingly, 
 the universal belief of men is considered 
 to be a good argument in proof of the 
 existence of God, although, no doubt, the 
 most extravagant and foolish notions have 
 in all ages and countries connected them- 
 selves with that belief. The truth is, that 
 all opinions which refer to religion point at 
 something so far above the condition of man 
 in this world, that it is impossible to con- 
 ceive how his attention should ever have 
 been at all turned to such speculations, un- 
 less it were from the voice of nature speak- 
 ing within him. How should a being who 
 begins in weakness and childhood, who pas- 
 ses his best days in toil and anxiety, and 
 who, at last, decays in old age, how 
 should such a being ever lift his thoughts to 
 the great overruling Intelligence, whose un- 
 ceasing watchfulness regulates the govern- 
 ment of worlds ? How should he carry his 
 presumption so far, as to believe that he 

 
 150 PROOFS OF IMMORTALITY 
 
 shall participate in that eternal existence 
 which he ascribes to God ? The human 
 imagination is indeed extravagant ; but if 
 this opinion were not founded in nature 
 and truth, it would be such a pitch of ex- 
 travagance, that it could never have de- 
 rived the smallest plausibility from the 
 most beautiful colouring of the most fan- 
 ciful poet. How, then, should there be 
 " no speech nor language where its veicc is 
 not heard ?" 
 
 But, secondly, this opinion, that the 
 soul is immortal, does not rest merely on 
 a vague and unaccountable belief; there 
 are many circumstances which strongly 
 confirm it. Man perceives that he has 
 faculties greatly above his condition here. 
 The great ends of human existence in this 
 world might be answered by the operation 
 of those instincts which belong to the 
 brutes. The lower animals live, continue 
 their species, taste of the enjoyments 

 
 FROM REASOX. 151 
 
 .which life affords, and then sink quietly 
 into the dust from which they were taken. 
 Why should man have the faculty of rea- 
 son, if this part of his nature is destined 
 to perish ? What are the mighty opera- 
 tions in which that faculty is employed 
 here, that could not, in many instances, 
 be performed more fully by the instincts 
 of the lower animals ? They all know the 
 methods of acquiring their food, of form- 
 ing their places of shelter, of defending 
 themselves from their enemies, and every 
 thing besides that is requisite for their 
 well-being. Man knows none of those 
 things from nature; but is gifted with a 
 power by which he acquires that know- 
 ledge for himself. Yet he feels that this 
 power is much more important in itself 
 than in its effects, and that none of the 
 uses to which he can now apply it are 
 adequate to its extent and capacity, He 
 feels that he is in possession of a faculty
 
 152 PROOFS OF IMMORTALITY 
 
 to whose operations his fancy can set no 
 bounds, which is adapted for every part 
 of the universe equally with this world in 
 which he exists at present, and which he 
 cannot conceive doomed to perish, as long 
 as the universe itself is under the guidance 
 of reason. 
 
 But the principal argument which has at 
 all times led men to the belief of a future 
 state, has been founded on the observation 
 of the imperfect distribution of rewards and 
 punishments in this life ; of the misfor- 
 tunes to which the good are subjected, and 
 the frequent prosperity of the wicked. No 
 one who believes in the existence of a su- 
 preme Governor of the universe, can en- 
 tertain a doubt that virtue is agreeable, 
 and that vice is hateful to him ; that he 
 loves those who persevere in the ways of 
 ri ghteousness ; and that he looks with ab- 
 horrence on the workers of iniquity. It 
 is therefore reasonable to expect, that he
 
 FROM REASON. 153 
 
 reward the one, and punish the other; 
 that the righteous will be exalted to ho- 
 nour, and that the wicked will be brought 
 lo \vand debased. There are, in the pre- 
 sent course of God's providence, many 
 intimations that such is the plan of his 
 proceedings: The good are certainly even 
 now happier than the wicked, and are al- 
 so, for the most part, more certainly and 
 substantially prosperous ; but still there 
 are very great exceptions to this general 
 rule ; and one thing is evident, that there 
 is never an exact proportion observed be- 
 tween a man's merits and his fortune. 
 Nothing, indeed, can be clearer, than that 
 the present life can, in no way, be reckon- 
 ed a state of retribution. A state of trial 
 it is, and frequently the virtue of good 
 men is tried with great severity ; but if 
 there is no future state of retribution, the 
 trial would be in vain. This observation 
 naturally suggests the belief, that in this
 
 154 PROOFS OF IMMORTALITY 
 
 world we see nothing more than the be- 
 ginningof the divine government; that the 
 evils permitted to fall on the good are de- 
 signed to try their faith, and to strength- 
 en their virtuous hahits ; while the advan- 
 tages enjoyed by the wicked are merely 
 delusive, and will not at all exempt them 
 from meeting at last with the punishment 
 which is their due. 
 
 Suppose the present life to be our all, 
 and certainly the higher exertions of vir- 
 tue have no adequate motive, It would 
 be sufficient to live with that decency and 
 attention to character which are necessary 
 for our peace and security among men. 
 A man who would give up any pleasure, 
 or worldly good, for the sake of virtue, 
 would be a loser by the exchange. Or, 
 granting that virtue is always in a great 
 measure its own reward, yet why should 
 a good man suffer any thing? Why should 
 not a marked distinction be made between
 
 FROM REASON. 155 
 
 him and the wicked ? Why should the 
 good ever have grounds for complaining, 
 with David, " that they have cleansed their 
 heart in vain, and washed their hands in in- 
 nocency ; for all day long have they been 
 plagued, and chastened every morning f" 
 Why should they have occasion to be 
 " envious at the foolish, when they see the pro- 
 sperity of the wicked" that " they are not in 
 trouble as other men, neither are they plagued 
 like other ??icn ; therefore, pride compasseth 
 them about as a chain, violence cover eth them 
 as a garment ?" And what other explana- 
 tion can be given to this strange appear- 
 ance in the administration of God, except 
 that which the Psalmist declares that he 
 found ? " When I thought to know this, (he 
 says,) it was too painful for me; until I went 
 into the sanctuary of God : then understood 
 I their end. Surely thou didst set them in slip- 
 pery places ; thou calledst them down into 
 destruction ! How arc they brought into deso-
 
 156 PROOFS OF IMMORTALITY 
 
 lation as in a moment ! They are utterly 
 consumed with terrors. Nevertheless, I am 
 continually with thee, thou hast holden me 
 by my right hand. Thou shalt guide me 
 with thy counsel, and afterwards receive me 
 to glory." 
 
 In confirmation of this argument, the 
 fears of bad men and the hopes of the 
 good are circumstances of no inconsider- 
 ahle weight. In the midst of the greatest 
 worldly prosperity, and while there are 
 no grounds of apprehension from men, 
 why should it so frequently happen that 
 a bad man has no peace of mind ? Why 
 should he fear where no fear is ? Why 
 should conscience take the alarm when 
 every thing conspires to lull him into se- 
 curity ? A great crime may be commit- 
 ted so secretly, that the perpetrator shall 
 have no sort of reason for apprehending 
 detection. W^hy, then, may he not live 
 put his life in quietness ; and when death
 
 FROM REASON. 157 
 
 at last comes to release him from the 
 world, why should he not sink into the 
 bosom of the earth without apprehension 
 or dismay ? Why, but because he feels 
 that his guilt has not been hid from every 
 eye ; that One has seen it, from whom 
 alone it was of importance that it should 
 be concealed ; and that the stroke of death 
 will not terminate his existence, but will 
 send him trembling into the presence of 
 his Judge ? This apprehension alone can 
 account for the intolerable agonies which 
 accompany remorse. When a bad man 
 is seized with this apprehension, he then 
 feels, like Cain, that " his punishment is 
 greater than he can bear" Hence it is, 
 that examples have been found of men 
 who, pursued by the terrors of con- 
 science, have openly declared to the 
 world crimes which would otherwise never 
 have been discovered ; and have submit- 
 ted to punishment in this world, with the
 
 158 PROOFS OF IMMORTALITY 
 
 secret hope that their guilt would thus, in 
 some measure, be expiated in the sight 
 of heaven. 
 
 The hopes of good men, under the 
 greatest depression of outward misfor- 
 tunes, point likewise at this great truth. 
 When a good man is forsaken by the 
 world, and is subjected to the miseries 
 of poverty and the loss of friends, he still 
 finds something within which brings him 
 consolation. It is not merely a good 
 conscience, but it is Hope founded on a 
 good conscience. He has an internal as- 
 surance, that however melancholy his 
 present condition may be, there yet is 
 something good in store for him. This 
 hope enables him to bear up, and carries 
 him in triumph through the storms of 
 the world. Whence is this hope ? is it a 
 delusion, or is it an assurance from one 
 who cannot lie ? 
 
 Such, my brethren, seem to be the ob-
 
 REASON. 1o9 
 
 serrations which, in all ages of the world, 
 have led men to conclude, that their ex- 
 
 s 
 
 istence does not close with the present 
 scene of things. To some these observa- 
 
 O 
 
 tions may appear quite satisfactory, and 
 that the subject did not require any far- 
 ther light to be thrown on it ; but to 
 others they may appear to be merely 
 presumptions, and, after all, not very 
 strong. If they do not strike the mind in 
 a peculiar manner, their force, may not 
 be perceived. There was, therefore, still 
 room left for a revelation on this import- 
 ant point ; and such a revelation has 
 been made through the gospel. The evi- 
 dence for the truth of our resurrection, 
 founded on the gospel, is extremely 
 simple. It rests on the assurances of our 
 Saviour, confirmed by his own resurrec- 
 tion from the dead. To these points I 
 will beg leave, on a future occasion, to 
 call your attention.
 
 SERMON XI. 
 
 PROOFS OF IMMORTALITY FROM REVELATION. 
 
 II. TIM. i. 10. 
 
 " And hath brought life and immortality to 
 light through the gospel" 
 
 IN a former discourse, my brethren, I 
 brought into one view some of the most 
 striking observations which have, in every 
 age, led men to conclude that their exis- 
 tence does not terminate with the present 
 scene of mortality. To some, perhaps, 
 such observations might seem to be of
 
 PROOFS OF IMMORTALITY, &C. 
 
 little value, since we are now happily in 
 possession of a much surer ground of con- 
 fidence upon this point than the unassist* 
 ed light of nature can supply. Yet it is 
 at least a pleasing meditation to contem- 
 plate the mind of man, even in its rudest 
 condition, anticipating in some degree 
 those sublime truths which it was left for 
 the gospel clearly to reveal ; and it must 
 be grateful to the Christian to hear the 
 sound of that voice> which has every ^ 
 where cried in the wilderness of the world, 
 " prepare ye the way of the Lord, make his 
 paths straight." 
 
 It is in this view, as something prepa- 
 ratory to the information afforded us by 
 revelation, that it is chiefly interesting 
 and important to examine the natural evi- 
 dences of our immortality. There is, 
 however, a prejudice to which such an 
 inquiry may sometimes give rise, which 
 it shall now be my business to obviate. 
 
 L
 
 162 TKOOFS OF IMMORTALITY 
 
 The inquirer into the proofs of natural 
 religion may perhaps be so well satisfied 
 with the result of his investigation, that 
 he may think it of little importance to 
 search farther, or to examine the preten- 
 sions of any particular revelation. As 
 this is a prejudice which not unfrequently 
 leads into a very wide field of error and 
 delusion, I believe it will not be an use- 
 less employment to trace the fallacy 
 which lurks under it. 
 
 In the first place, then, admitting, what 
 I am much disposed to believe, that the 
 evidences of our immortality from rea- 
 son are fitted to produce the highest de- 
 gree of conviction on the minds of those 
 who will candidly weigh them : still the 
 philosopher ought not to judge of men in 
 general from himself, or suppose that a 
 revelation is unnecessary for the instruc- 
 tion of the human race, because it may 
 be so to a few individuals. The natural
 
 FROM REVELATION. 163 
 
 sentiments of all men, indeed, point to 
 some state of existence beyond the grave ; 
 and you can never banish from the hu- 
 man heart the hopes and the fears of fu- 
 turity ; but except among a few inquir- 
 ers of deeper reflection than the rest, 
 these sentiments exist only in a rude and 
 untutored form ; and men will cling with 
 eagerness to every source of information, 
 true or false, by which they may be ren- 
 'dered more satisfactory and distinct. 
 
 Thus we find the religion of the great 
 body of mankind to be always something 
 more than their natural sentiments, and to 
 consist, in all appearance, rather of what 
 they are taught, than of what they feel to be 
 true. It is in this manner we may account 
 for the wonderful progress of superstition 
 among men, and for the readiness with 
 which every story, however monstrous and 
 extravagant, is listened to, that seems to 
 give any insight into the mysteries of the
 
 164 PROOFS OF IMMORTALITY 
 
 unseen world. Nature, indeed, prompts 
 men to look beyond the grave ; but she car- 
 ries most men no farther than the desire, 
 and leaves them to found a faith which 
 they must have, not upon the conclusions 
 of reason, but upon any pretension or im- 
 posture which is thrown in their way. 
 
 Now, my brethren, is it unreasonable 
 to suppose that the Father of men should 
 take pity upon the mighty multitude of 
 his rational creatures who wander " as 
 sheep having no shepherd" and that he 
 should give them an instructor from him- 
 self to lead them right, when of them- 
 selves they cannot but go wrong ? If it 
 be said, let the wise instruct the ignorant; 
 alas ! have the votaries of human wis- 
 dom any pretensions by which they may 
 enforce belief; and has it not, in all ages, 
 been found, that the only instruction to 
 which men will listen on the lofty con- 
 cerns of other worlds, must seem to come 

 
 FROM REVELATION. 165 
 
 from wisdom superior to that of man ? 
 The ancient philosophers and legislators 
 were frequently obliged to pretend that 
 they possessed communication with hea- 
 ven ; for they knew well, that more than 
 a mortal voice was required to enforce 
 the profound truths of immortality. 
 
 But, secondly, my brethren, may we 
 not be permitted to suspect that, upon 
 thfs head, philosophers sometimes deceive 
 themselves ; and that the faith which 
 they place in the doctrine of immortal 
 life, however firmly it may rest on ar- 
 guments from reason, is yet not a little 
 supported in their minds by principles of 
 which they are not so well aware. The 
 most pious of the heathen philosophers 
 did not shake off entirely their belief in 
 the superstitions of their age, but were 
 led often to think and feel like the least 
 instructed of their countrymen. Among 
 all the follies of the superstitions which
 
 166 
 
 surrounded them, they were yet willing 
 to believe that revelations had been given 
 to the human race ; and they scarcely 
 were arrived at so much confidence in 
 the conclusions of their own reason as 
 not to wish at least that some revelation 
 might be given. If there is really any 
 man in modern times, who, without faith 
 in Christianity, still possesses a firm con- 
 viction of his immortality, I will venture 
 to affirm, that the faith of that man is 
 supported in no small degree by the ex- 
 istence of Christianity every where around 
 him ; and if he saw not the multitude 
 going to the house of God, he would 
 have less assurance than he now feels, 
 that there is an eternal house to which 
 all the true worshippers of God will one 
 day go. 
 
 Wat are philosophers? Wise men, 
 . 
 certainly, if they are really philosophers ; 
 
 yet they are but men, and, like others,
 
 FROM REVELATION. l6~ 
 
 subject to doubt, despondency, and error. 
 Will reason do every thing for them? 
 Does it leave no room for the apprehen- 
 sion of mistake; and, on a point which 
 involves so deep an interest, is it not of 
 importance " to make assurance doubly 
 sure r" In truth, my brethren, it seems 
 to be the intention of Providence that, 
 upon this great subject of religion, no 
 man shall take it upon him to say that, 
 by the mere force of reason, he shall 
 reach any station much higher than is 
 possessed by the surrounding multitude 
 of his fellow creatures ; that he shall ever 
 have any sound pretence to suppose him- 
 self above the necessity of divine instruc- 
 tion ; or that he shall say with impunity 
 to the Most High, " / seek not from thce 
 any addition to the light of my own mind" 
 This age has exhibited, what no succeed- 
 ing age will forget, the melancholy con- 
 sequences which have followed from this
 
 168 PROOFS OF IMMORTALITY 
 
 proud independence of understanding, 
 among men too of no common sagacity ; 
 and we have beheld the tremendous spec- 
 tacle, of genius and science beginning 
 with the disbelief of revelation, and not 
 settling in any sound system of natural 
 faith; but gradually obliterating from the 
 human heart every sentiment of piety, 
 and bringing nothing in its stead but 
 the coldness of sceptical indifference, or 
 the monstrous perversions of determined 
 atheism, 
 
 In the third place, my brethren, I re- 
 mark that, upon this subject, men re- 
 quire more information than of the mere 
 fact of their immortality. Of itself im- 
 mortality is scarcely to be wished, unless 
 it is accompanied with the prospect of 
 happiness ; and there are some circum- 
 stances in the present condition of man 
 which cloud the prospects of futurity to 
 the eye of nature. The very circun>
 
 FROM REVELATION. 169 
 
 stance of death throws a shade upon the 
 scene beyond the grave ; and a doubt sug- 
 gests itself to the mind of unenlightened 
 men, how far the state of being to which 
 he is hastening is a condition to be desir- 
 ed ? The vulgar opinion of the state of~ 
 the soul after death, prevalent in the 
 heathen world, was by no means a pleas- 
 ing one ; and the spirits of the departed, 
 instead of being advanced to a higher 
 sphere of existence, were commonly sup- 
 posed, to look back with regret on the en- 
 joyments which they had left behind in 
 this world. Men of thought and reflec- 
 tion, indeed, might attain a different and 
 a truer conception, and might collect, 
 from contemplating the attributes of God, 
 that, in the untried state of being to which 
 they were advancing, those who perform- 
 ed well their part here, would be elevat- 
 ed to a higher scene. Yet who are good, 
 and what allowances are to be made for
 
 170 PROOFS OF IMMORTALITY 
 
 the frailties and imperfections incident to 
 the best men ? And must the wicked be 
 consigned to despair? Must they be aban- 
 doned by the mercy of God, as well as by 
 the pride of human virtue ? Is no prospect 
 to be afforded them of grace and pardon? 
 Shall no assurance be made to the peni- 
 tent sinner, that he too will be received ; 
 and even although he should abandon his 
 sins, must conscience continue to terrify 
 him by the recital of his former iniqui- 
 ties ? These, my brethren, are questions 
 to which unassisted reason can make no 
 accurate reply, none at least sufficient to 
 satisfy the feelings of the heart. The best 
 men require some positive assurances to 
 keep their hopes from sinking amidst the 
 consciousness of their many infirmities ; 
 and the returning penitent longs for some 
 promise, some sure pledge of forgiveness. 
 Such, then, is the dark condition in 
 which we are left by nature on this in> 

 
 FROM REVELATION. 171 
 
 portant inquiry : Let us now examine 
 what light has been thrown upon it by the 
 gospel. 
 
 When we look into the records of our 
 religion, the great object which presents 
 itself to our view is the appearance of a 
 divine instructor, who, without any myste- 
 rious concealment, addresses himself to 
 the race of man with the voice of author 
 rity, and speaks to them as to the children 
 of God, and the heirs of immortality. We 
 see him, with the most winning conde- 
 scension, opening these sublime truths to 
 every description of men, preaching his 
 gospel to the poor, and calling upon every 
 human being to listen to this single lofty 
 view of his nature. We hear him calling 
 upon all mankind to abandon their follies 
 and superstitions, their own dreams and 
 reveries on the subject of religion, and to 
 come to him, and he will conduct them 
 right ! Do we not at once perceive, my
 
 172 PROOFS OF IMMORTALITY 
 
 brethren, that this is the Teacher whom 
 mankind must follow ; that it is he who 
 must lead the human race ; and that, 
 however he may be rejected and despised 
 by some, who esteem themselves wise, yet 
 that none but he can guide and conduct 
 the multitude of men? Do we not farther 
 see, that he has guided many sons and 
 daughters into the way of righteousness ; 
 and are there not those in the lowest sta- 
 tions of life, who, from his instructions, 
 have attained nobler and more elevated 
 wisdom than is to be found in all the 
 schools of human philosophy ? 
 
 While the doctrines of our Saviour are 
 so simple, that they are level to the ap- 
 prehension of the least instructed of the 
 human race, they are at the same time so 
 sublime, that the most enlightened can- 
 not conceive any thing beyond them. 
 The highest and purest views of human 
 reason his doctrines confirm, and confirm
 
 JROM REVELATION 1 . 173- 
 
 them without any addition of superstitious 
 delusion. They form a point to which all 
 the reasonings of men on those lofty sub- 
 jects may fix and adhere, and which may 
 prevent the opinions of the thoughtful and 
 inquisitive from being carried about by 
 " every wind of doctrine" 
 
 But, my brethren, the most striking cir- 
 cumstance in the system of Christianity 
 is its condescension to all the fears and all 
 the frailties of our nature ; and here it 
 comes with a force and energy which 
 every heart must feel, and which no un- 
 derstanding, fhat is not blinded, can over- 
 look. To the pious and sincere, whose 
 humility may yet be overpowered with 
 the prospects of future glory, and who 
 fear to lift their mortal vision to the bla- 
 zing throne of eternity, the Saviour of 
 mankind speaks with the voice of the 
 kindest encouragement, and assures them, 
 that in his " Father s house tlicre are many
 
 174 PROOFS OF IMMORTALITY 
 
 marisions ; and that he has gone to prepare a 
 place for them." To the sinner, whose 
 conscience is heavy laden, the same bles- 
 sed person addresses himself in accents of 
 the tenderest compassion, and bids him 
 come to him, and he will give him rest. 
 Are these assurances not sufficient ? Does 
 the sinner still doubt of forgiveness, and 
 tremble in the presence of his God ? Then 
 let him look to " the Lamb which was slain ;" 
 to the offering which God has provided 
 for himself; to him who promises forgive- 
 ness, bleeding to assure him that he is for- 
 ~iven ! 
 
 Must something more yet be done ? 
 Does the chamber of death still look sad, 
 and do our hearts fail us for fear, when 
 we see all men entering in, and none 
 coming out? Does he who came to lift 
 our eyes above mortality sleep, too, in the 
 grave ; and did we trust in vain, " that it 
 he who was to redeem Israel ?" No,
 
 FROM REVELATION. 175 
 
 Christian, thy hope has not been vain ! 
 The grave could not detain the Captain 
 of thy salvation. " Death Juts had no do- 
 minion over him." " He has ascended up on- 
 high, leading captivity captive ;" and now, 
 in the fulness of faith, thou mayst say, 
 " O death, where is thy sting ; O grave, 
 where is thy victory ?" 
 
 Such, my brethren, are the stupendous 
 truths which ye have now been contem- 
 plating ! Such is " the life and immortality 
 which to you have been brought to light 
 through the gospel /" Meditate upon these 
 things, in the full assurance of faith; glory 
 in your Christian profession ; and when 
 you call to mind the multitudes of your 
 fellow-creatures who still " sit in darkness, 
 and in the shadow of death" acknowledge, 
 with gratitude, how greatly you have been 
 blessed, " whom the Day-spring from on 
 high hath visited;" who have been brought 
 into " the fold ;" and " who hare heard the
 
 176 PROOFS OF IMMORTALITY, &C. 
 
 voice of the shepherd ;" and " seeing that all 
 these present things shall be dissolved, const* 
 der what manner of persons ye ought to be in 
 all holy conversation and godliness ;" who 
 have received the promise of " new heavens 
 and a new earth t wherein dwelleth righteous- 
 ness" " Wherefore, beloved, seeing that ye 
 look for such things, be diligent, that ye be 
 found of God in peace, without spot, and 
 blameless."
 
 SERMON XII. ^^ 
 
 ON THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 
 
 JSZEKIEL, XXXvii. 3. 
 
 " And he said unto me, Son of man, can these 
 bones live ? And I answered, O Lord God, 
 thou knowest? 
 
 J. KNOW not, my brethren, whether, in 
 the whoje volume of scripture, there is a 
 passage of. more astonishing sublimity, 
 than that of which these words form a 
 part. 
 
 " The hand of the Lord (says the pro- 
 phet) was upon me, and carried me out in the 
 M
 
 178 ON THE RESURRECTION 
 
 Spirit of the Lord, and set me down in the 
 midst of the valley which 'was full of bones, 
 and caused me to pass by them round about ; 
 and) behold, there were very many In the open 
 valley ; and, lo, they were very dry. And 
 he said unto me, Son of man , can these bones 
 live f And I answered, Lord God, thou 
 knowest. Again he said unto me, Prophecy 
 upon these bones, and say untQ them, ye dry 
 bones, hear the word of the Lord. Thus saith 
 the Lord God unto these bones, Behold, I will 
 cause breath to enter into you, and ye shall 
 live ; and I will lay sinews upon you, and 
 will bring up f,esh upon you, and cover you 
 with skin, and put breath in you, and ye shall 
 live, and ye shall know that I am the Lord. 
 So I prophesied as I was commanded '; and as 
 I prophesied, there was a shaking, and the 
 bones came together, bone to his bone. And 
 when I beheld, lo, the sinews and the jlesh 
 came upon them, and the skin covered them 
 above ; but there was no breath in them\
 
 OP THE t>EAfc. 179 
 
 Then said he unto me, Prophesy unto the 
 wind, prophesy, son of man, and say to the 
 windy thus saith the Lord God, Come from 
 the four winds, breath, and breathe upon 
 these slain, that they may live. So I pro- 
 phesied as he commanded me, and the breath 
 same into them^ and they lived and stood up 
 upon their feet, an exceeding great army" 
 
 It is no long time, my brethren, since 
 we were called upon to contemplate that 
 life and immortality which our Lord 
 brought to light through the gospel, when 
 he rose in triumph from the grave, and 
 became " the first fruits of them who sleep." 
 We shall soon be called upon to contem- 
 plate his ascension into heaven, where he 
 now sits at the right hand of his Father, 
 and makes intercession for his faithful 
 people. These are lofty truths, with 
 which, from our earliest years, we have 
 been familiar ; but, perhaps, from that 
 very circumstance, they frequently fail to
 
 180 ON THE RESURRECTION 
 
 impress our minds with the deep feeling 
 which naturally belongs to them. We 
 " have heard of them by the hearing of the 
 ear ;" we believe them to be true ; but 
 while our understandings may be convin- 
 ced of their truth, our hearts may often 
 be unaffected by them. The world, with 
 its scenes of magnificence, activity, and 
 enjoyment, occupies our eyes, and in- 
 trudes into most of our meditations ; and 
 we can scarcely be prevailed upon to ima- 
 gine that there is any thing substantial in 
 those stupendous scenes which lie beyond 
 it. With a view to correct these preju- 
 dices, it will not, I believe, be an useless 
 employment to follow the prophet into the 
 dark scene of his meditations ; to contem- 
 plate with him the cheerless termination 
 of a temporary being ; and when all mor- 
 tal hope is at an end, and when the world 
 is shut out from our thoughts, with him 
 to fix our eye on those prophetic rays
 
 OF THE DEAD. 181 
 
 which brighten the gloom, and which vi- 
 sit with " the Day-spring from on high" 
 even " the valley of the shadow of death'" 
 
 " The hand of the Lord (says he) was 
 upon me, and carried me out hi the Spirit of 
 the Lord, and set me down in the midst of 
 the valley which was full of bones, and caused 
 me to pass by them round about ; and, be- 
 hold, there were very many in the open val- 
 ley ; and, lo I they were very dry." The 
 opening of the description, my brethren, 
 presents a picture which we are naturally 
 averse to contemplate ; we fly from it in- 
 to the scenes of dissipation ; " the harp and 
 the viol are in our feasts ;" and we seek to 
 banish, in the transitory enjoyments of 
 our being, the forebodings of its final 
 close. There are times, however, when 
 " the hand of the Lord is upon us," and when 
 the most thoughtless of us are " carried out 
 in the Spirit of the Lord t and are set down in 
 the midst of the valley which is full of bo'ne*. n
 
 182 ON THE RESURRECTION 
 
 We are called, perhaps, to follow to the 
 grave the parents whom we venerated 
 and loved ; the companions of our youth, 
 or the partners of our affections, drop 
 down in the dust before us ; even the buds 
 of infancy are nipped, and those new af- 
 fections, which seemed to carry us for- 
 ward into a long futurity, are suddenly 
 crushed in the moment of their formation. 
 We then willingly sit down with the pro- 
 phet " in. the midst of the valley which is full 
 of bones" We hear the wind sigh through 
 the grass which covers them ; we raise our 
 languid eyes, and fix them on the monu- 
 ments of mortality ; we " pass by them 
 round about ;" the world, with all its splen- 
 dour, and toil, and gaiety, vanishes from 
 our sight ; and we are drawn, by an irre- 
 sistible impulse, to contemplate, with un- 
 divided attention, the gloomy scene, in 
 which all we have admired or valued here 
 must inevitably terminate ; on the " very
 
 OF THE DEAD. 183 
 
 many bones in the open valley," deprived of 
 every principle of life, and become " very 
 dry." 
 
 Inthese moments of melancholy thought, 
 when all the occupations of men seem in- 
 significant, and for no end ; when the la- 
 bours or the enjoyments which fill up the 
 space of our "few and evil days" seem oi> 
 ly to deceive us with false hopes, or to 
 give us a taste of happiness which must 
 speedily pass away ; when the beauty of 
 creation itself is lost to us, and the sun 
 which shines above our heads seems only 
 to " light us to the tomb ;" what 4 I be- 
 seech you, is the only inquiry which we 
 are anxious to make, the only information 
 we are willing to receive ? The voice 
 which spoke to the prophet is then heard 
 to speak in every human heart, and to ut- 
 ter the words of incalculable import, " Son 
 of man, can these bones live ?" The reply to 
 this solemn inquiry will not, in that hour,
 
 O\ THE RESURRECTION 
 
 my brethren, be the careless trifling of 
 the sophist. The lofty mind of man will 
 not then stoop to play tricks with its own 
 ingenuity ; but the eye of nature will be 
 raised to heaven, burning through its 
 tears, and the voice of the heart will cry 
 aloud to the Father of existence, and will 
 seek from him the knowledge of the des- 
 tiny of man. " O Lord God, thou knowcst" 
 The gloom of the grave is no darkness to 
 thee ; thou breathest into man the breath 
 of life, and thou takest it away; thou alone 
 canst tell whether his being mav be re- 
 
 o * 
 
 newed ! 
 
 It is- thus we may interpret the reply of 
 the prophet ; and it is in this manner that 
 light begins to break in upon the obscu- 
 rity of " the valley wJiich is full of bones" 
 With what gratitude are the first rays of 
 that celestial light then hailed ; and how 
 eagerly does the soul apply for still far- 
 ther illumination to that living source
 
 . OF THE DEAD. 185 
 
 whence alone it can flow. How many 
 doubts and misgivings are dispelled, when 
 the God of nature is once fairly recog- 
 nized ; and, when tlie appeal is made to 
 him, how willingly does he insinuate the 
 prophecy of immortality. 
 
 " Again he said unto me (continues 
 the prophet), prophesy upon these bones, 
 and say unto them. Thus saith the Lord God 
 unto these bones, behold I will cause breath 
 to enter into 'you, and ye shall live" The 
 same words of prophesy which were at 
 this time heard by Ezekiel, were likewise 
 heard by many wise and good men of 
 the heathen world, who, like him, wan- 
 dered in the spirit of the Lord through 
 the valley of bones, and from that cheer- 
 less scene of desolation, were, like him, 
 prompted to lift the eye of faith to the 
 Father of their being. Whenever. the 
 words of faith were uttered, " O Lord God 
 thou knowest ;" whenever the material veil
 
 186 ON THE RESURRECTION 
 
 was for a moment raised, and a glimpse 
 was caught of the eternal throne of God, 
 then the rays of prophetic hope dawned 
 upon " the shadow of death}" and nature 
 herself; independently of immediate in- 
 spiration, could foretel the rise of the im- 
 mortal form of man from the sleep of the 
 grave. The evidences arising from the 
 attributes of God; from the dignity of the 
 human mind ; from the analogies of na- 
 ture; then crowded in with an increasing 
 force : and even in those dark ages, which 
 ** the Day-spring from on high had not visit- 
 ed" could assume the high tone and firm- 
 ness of prophetic assurance. It is thus 
 delightful to find, that in no age of the 
 world did God leave himself without a 
 witness; and that the loftiest truths of 
 religion rose, as if of their own accord, in 
 the minds of the contemplative, from 
 amidst the very horrors which seemed to 
 burv and overwhelm them.
 
 OF THE DEAD. 187 
 
 ** And as I prophesied there was a shak- 
 ing, and the bones came together, bone to his 
 bone." I will not, my brethren, trust my- 
 self to repeat the astonishing description 
 which follows ; when the visions of pro- 
 phecy assumed the appearance of present 
 reality ; when the prophet at once beheld 
 what before he had only imagined ; when 
 the dead were raised up in multitudes 
 around him ; and when an " exceeding 
 great army" rose from the " dry bones." 
 It is more important for me to say, that 
 Avhat this vision was to him, the Gospel 
 of our Lord is to us : that, to the Chris- 
 tian, the prophetic hopes of nature assume 
 the evidence of reality ; that in his hours 
 of meditation in " the valley which is full of 
 bo?ies" the truths of his religion speak from 
 the silence of the grave ; that he then seems 
 to hear the Captain of his salvation calling 
 to the four winds, and bidding the earth 
 give up the accumulated dead of ages,
 
 188 OX THE RESURRECTION 
 
 and to behold " the exceeding great army 
 of the faithful," which, from the east and 
 from the west, from the north and from 
 the south, shall obey the call, and shall 
 follow their leader , into those mansions 
 which he has already gone to prepare for 
 them. 
 
 The allusion here made to the gospel 
 appears indeed to be obvious and striking. 
 *' As I prophesied," says Ezekiel at the 
 very moment when the eye of man was 
 anxiously turned towards his future be- 
 ing; when the contemplative and the 
 pious were eagerly accumulating the evi- 
 dences of their immortality, and were 
 rousing up every principle of faith, he who 
 obtained a victory over the grave, made 
 this great truth obvious even to sense ; 
 and wherever his followers carried the 
 glad tidings of his resurrection, the Day- 
 spring from on high was immediately 
 shed abroad over many a nation which
 
 OF THE DEAD. 189 
 
 had ** sat in darkness, and in the shadow of 
 death." 
 
 It is thus, my brethren, that I have 
 endeavoured once more to lead your at- 
 tention to the loftiest and most interest- 
 ing truth of religion. .There are times, 
 we see, when nothing short of this truth 
 can give the slightest interest to the hu- 
 man mind; when the sun loses its light, 
 and all nature is dead and gloom}/ with- 
 out it ; and when the only consolation the 
 heart can know is contained in the an- 
 swer to the solemn question, " Son of man, 
 can these bones live ?" The answer to that 
 question is found by those only who lis- 
 ten to it in the spirit of the Lord ; who, 
 in the lowest depth of their affliction, or. 
 in their gloomiest meditations on the fate 
 of man, can yet lift the eye of hope and 
 of piety to the Father of nature ; and, 
 while their own thoughts are dark, can 
 yet say to him, " O Lord God, thou knwv-
 
 130 ON THE RESURRECTION 
 
 cst" From minds thus prepared, my 
 brethren, all the doubts of nature, or of 
 a vain philosophy, will speedily pass a- 
 way ; the lights of reason will illuminate 
 their path ; and the stronger beam of re- 
 velation will, even now, seem to disclose 
 the celestial life and immortality which 
 are lurking unperceived for a time under 
 the " many dry bones" in the valley of 
 death. 
 
 If there are times when this lofty doc- 
 trine alone can afford us a gleam of com- 
 fort, there is no time in which it ought 
 to pass entirely from our thoughts. There 
 is in fact no time of our mortal existence 
 in which we are not passing through " the 
 valley which is full of bones" We are now 
 treading upon the bones of our fathers ; 
 and the feet of our children will soon pass 
 over ours. Is this a world then, my bre- 
 thren, which ought to claim all our af- 
 fections ? Is it meet that our " abiding
 
 ; OF THE DEAD. 
 
 * 
 
 should be here ? and, instead of pur- 
 suing without ceasing those advantages 
 which must terminate here, shall we not 
 endeavour to tread in that path of steady 
 goodness which leads so surely into a 
 brighter and an eternal abode ? 
 
 O 
 
 This path is found without any difficult 
 or perplexed inquiry, by him who will 
 seek for it in the spirit of the Lord, and 
 will here, too, say with the prophet, ** O 
 Lord God, thou knowest" Even those who 
 are dead in trespasses and sins, thou, O 
 Lord God, knowest how to restore. To 
 this moral resurrection the prophet at last 
 alludes, and thus closes the profound doc- 
 trine which he had unveiled. 
 
 ** Then he said unto me. Son of man, these 
 bones are the whole house of Israel : behold 
 they say, our bones are dried and our hope 
 is lost ; therefore prophesy and say unto them, 
 thus saith the Lord God, Behold, my 
 people, I ivilf open your graves, and will
 
 192 ON THE RESURRECTION, &C. 
 
 put my spirit in you^ and ye shall live. 
 Then shall ye know that I the Lord have 
 spoken it) and have performed it, saith the 
 Lord." 
 
 !- if;!V/ 7i,-; ,OO? ,'n^tf iii 
 
 . iift'C* t "i 0\ft\\ \\lftl 
 
 s*7?'v ? 
 
 , ^
 
 SERMON XIII. 
 
 THE TEMPORAL ADVANTAGES OF 
 CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 EPHESIANS, iv. 8. 
 
 Wherefore he saith, when he ascended up 
 on highy he led captivity captive, and 
 gave gifts unto 
 
 1 HESE words, my brethren, express very 
 beautifully the nature of those blessings 
 which have been conferred on the human 
 race by the Son of God. " When he as- 
 cended up on high, he led captivity captive;' 
 he rescued men from the bondage of sin
 
 194 THE TEMPORAL ADVANTAGES 
 
 and death ; overcame the rulers of the 
 spiritual darkness of this world ; and open- 
 ed up that new and living way, by which 
 the pure in heart may draw near to God, 
 as children to an indulgent parent. 
 
 It is to the concluding words of the 
 text, however, that I wish at present to 
 confine your attention. " He gave gifts 
 unto men. 1 ' The apostle explains imme- 
 diately to what kind of gifts he refers : 
 " he gave some apostles, and some prophets, 
 and some evangelists, and some pastors and 
 teachers, for the perfecting of the saints, for 
 the work of the ministry, for the edifying of 
 the body of Christ : till we all come in the 
 unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of 
 the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto 
 the measure of the stature of the fulness of 
 Christ:' 
 
 The extraordinary providence of God, 
 in the early progress of the gospel, natu- 
 rally attracted the peculiar attention of
 
 <5* CIIRISTtANltY. 195 
 
 the apostle. The spirit of God was visi- 
 bly moving upon the face of the waters, 
 and dividing the light from the darkness. 
 The beauty of the moral world was now 
 breaking forth into view, and the great 
 Parent of all was seen looking upon it 
 also, and beholding it to be very good. 
 The mind of the apostle evidently labours 
 with the mighty scene that was before 
 him ; and here, as in many other pas- 
 sages of his writings, he seems incapable 
 of finding words to express the magni- 
 tude of his conceptions. It was his lot 
 to behold the infant church striking 
 root, the grain of mustard seed thrown 
 into the earth. He saw the hand of him 
 who planted it pouring upon it the dew 
 of heaven ; and his prophetic eye looks 
 forward to the time when it should be- 
 come a great tree, and the birds of the 
 air should lodge in its branches.
 
 196 THE TEMPORAL ADVANTAGES 
 
 It was impossible, therefore, in those 
 times, to avoid perceiving the constant 
 presence of Christ with his church, or to 
 overlook the gifts which he was so libe- 
 rally dispensing among men. But now 
 the case is different ; the religion of Je- 
 sus has long been established; the mira- 
 culous gifts of the spirit have ceased ; the 
 tree has become great, and the birds are 
 now lodging in its branches. The object 
 is in fact greater and more stupendous 
 than it was in the days of the apostle, 
 but we naturally give it less of our atten- 
 tion. The magnificent arrangement of 
 the heavens, and the beauties so liberally 
 scattered over the face of the earth, are 
 proofs of the divine wisdom and good- 
 ness, no less now than on the first day of 
 creation, " when the morning stars sang 
 logether, and all the sons of God shouted for 
 joy ;" but custom has so enured our 
 minds to the splendid spectacle, that we
 
 OF CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 scarcely contemplate it with admiration. 
 In like manner, having been born and 
 educated under the influence of Christi- 
 anity, we lose sight of many of the ad- 
 vantages which we have derived from it ; 
 and are apt to impute most of the bles- 
 sings which we enjoy to nature, and to 
 the course of events, which yet, when 
 rightly understood, are to be ascribed to 
 our religion. 
 
 To this subject I beg leave at present 
 shortly to direct your attention, both as* 
 it is very interesting in itself) and as it 
 will naturally lead me to speak of that 
 charitable * institution, to which we have 
 this day been invited to contribute. 
 
 It is very generally acknowledged, that 
 the state of the world is, on the whole, 
 greatly improved since the introduction 
 of the gospel ; and whatever may be said 
 of the mischiefs occasioned by supersti- 
 
 * The Public Dispensary.
 
 198 THE TEMPORAL ADVANTAGES 
 
 tious and perverted views of Christianity, 
 it cannot be denied, that the natural ten- 
 dency of a religion which declares all men 
 to be the children of one common parent, 
 and which speaks of charity as the end of 
 the commandment, must ever have been 
 to produce " glory to God in the highest* 
 and on earth peace and good will tmvard. 
 men." 
 
 These effects have followed from Chris- 
 tianity in no common degree. Even 
 in the times of the darkest superstition, 
 there have been men who caught the true 
 spirit of the gospel, and were as cities 
 set upon a hill, that could not be hid." How 
 much happiness was disseminated among 
 men in the worst of times, by the faith 
 and charity of those individuals who have 
 been true followers of Christ, it is impos- 
 sible lor us to calculate ; hut we may be 
 assured that, although we meet not in 
 the page of history with any detail of
 
 " OF CHRISTIANITY. 199 
 
 their humble but glorious efforts, yet the 
 effect produced was not inconsiderable ; 
 and that, while in those gloomy periods, 
 we are acustomed to discern nothing but 
 superstition and misery, still the footsteps 
 of the Son of God were to be traced 
 among the dwellings of men, and the 
 light from above was still cheering and 
 animating many an honest heart. 
 
 The ad vantages of the gospel, however, 
 are more apparent in times of civilization 
 and knowledge. We then find Christi- 
 anity promoting and sanctifying every 
 exertion which is made for the benefit of 
 the human race. We find it giving an 
 impulse to. every sound and liberal in- 
 quiry, and extending the bounds of the 
 science and the wisdom of man. We 
 find its spirit entering into the counsels 
 of nations, and gradually striving to ap- 
 pease the animosities by which they are 
 divided. We find it unbinding the chains
 
 $00 THE TEMPORAL ADVANTAGES 
 
 of the captive, and breathing over the 
 whole world the maxims of impartial jus- 
 tice and of enlightened benevolence. 
 
 Are these distinguishing characteristic^ 
 of the Christian world to be ascribed sole- 
 ly to the progress of civilization and phi- 
 losophy ? Why, then, were they not to 
 be found in the ancient world ? Some of 
 the nations of antiquity were greatly ad- 
 vanced in all the arts and improvements 
 by which social life is benefited and 
 adorned ; but they were far from posses- 
 sing the same principles of wisdom, of 
 humanity, and of justice, which are now 
 understood at least, if they are but im- 
 perfectly brought into action. We are 
 in 'the habit of boasting greatly of our 
 advantages in point of civilization and 
 philosophy ; bwt we are not always very 
 willing to acknowledge the source from 
 which these advantages are derived to us. 
 I will not, however, hesitate to affirm, that
 
 OF CHRISTIANITY^ 201 
 
 unless a steady beam from heaven had 
 opened up to man the path of truth and 
 of wisdom, the world would still have 
 exhibited the melancholy spectacle of the 
 blind leading the blind ; and instead of 
 that fair and increasing fabric of know- 
 ledge and of improvement which we now 
 behold rearing around us, which is found- 
 ed upon the rock of ages, and w r hich the 
 winds and the rains of time assail in 
 vain, we should still have beheld the ef- 
 forts of man wasted on some tower of 
 Babel, beginning in extravagance, and 
 terminating in confusion. 
 
 From these extensive views, let us turn 
 to the more familiar consideration of the 
 influence of Christianity on the habits 
 of private life ; how beautifully have 
 these been improved by it ! How 
 much have the grosser vices been extir* 
 pated, or driven into obscurity ! There 
 is a sanctity and purity in the private
 
 202 THE TEMPORAL ADVANTAGES 
 
 life of good men, and by a kind of ne- 
 cessity in the domestic life of all men, 
 which was far from prevailing in the world 
 before the introduction of the gospel. 
 Even politeness, and the manners of good 
 society, however artificial they may be, 
 are yet, in a great measure, produced by 
 the influence of Christianity on the pub- 
 lic mind. The amusements of men are 
 regulated by the same spirit. There is a 
 decency prevalent, which is expressive of 
 innocence, and which cannot with impu- 
 nity be greatly violated. Thus luxury has 
 been restrained within bounds; the higher 
 orders of society are prevented from car- 
 rying a licence of manners far beyond the 
 limits of propriety ; and while they are 
 indulged in those elegancies of life which 
 are suited to their station, they are yet 
 kept in check by the warning voice, that 
 they must " use these things as not abusing 
 them"
 
 OF CHRISTIANITY, 203 
 
 If the manners of the affluent have thus 
 been improved, the interests and happi- 
 ness of the lower orders of society have 
 met, in the progress of the gospel, with a 
 regard and an attention which was quite 
 unexampled in the former history of the 
 world. It is impossible, my brethren, that 
 within my present limits I can do any 
 justice to this most distinguishing feature 
 of Christianity. That it was one great 
 object of our Saviour's mission, appears 
 from his declaration, that he came to 
 " preach the gospel to the poor :" it appears 
 from the constant application which he 
 gave, when on earth, to the relief of the 
 infirmities of the lowest of the people : it 
 appears stHl more from the striking fact, 
 that he was himself a poor man, who had 
 " not where to lay his head!' I know not 
 any conceivable circumstance which could 
 have had a more powerful influence in 
 raising and dignifying the condition of
 
 204 THE TEMPORAL ADVANTAGES 
 
 poverty ; in making it respectable in the 
 eyes of the proudest and most affluent ; in 
 making them zealous to relieve the dis- 
 tresses to which it is liable, than this most 
 astonishing fact, that the same person, be- 
 fore whom the potentates of the earth now 
 bow the knee ; whose name in every Chris- 
 tian land is classed with the highest which 
 is named ; whose dignity is so lofty, that 
 the imagination of man loses it amidst the 
 splendours of Deity ; that he, when he lived 
 among men, should have appeared in the 
 obscurest condition, and with the fewest 
 external advantages. That all these cir- 
 cumstances have had a prodigious effect 
 in removing the worst prejudices which 
 arise from the inequalities of rank in so- 
 ciety appears, in the first place, from the 
 comparative freedom and importance to 
 which the lower orders have attained in 
 every Christian country ; and, secondly, 
 from the many institutions which, where-
 
 OF CHRISTIANITY. 205 
 
 ever Christianity is disseminated, have 
 been established for removing the wants, 
 and for relieving the diseases of the poor. 
 It is thus, my brethren, that our Sa- 
 viour has bestowed present gifts upon 
 men, and that the same divine person who 
 undertook and accomplished their eternal 
 salvation, is, in the present life, their great- 
 est benefactor and friend. This reflec- 
 tion, pursued through all the departments 
 of human life, in which Christianity has 
 been beneficial, either by its precepts or 
 its spirit, restores us again, in some mea- 
 sure, to the times of its origin, and makes 
 us still partake in the benefit of our Sa- 
 viour's presence. When we accustom 
 ourselves to behold his hand spreading 
 abroad happiness among nations, or point- 
 ing out to men the paths of peace in pri- 
 vate life, we can still fancy that we are 
 enjoying his company, and listening to 
 his sublime instructions. We even are 
 witnesses of his miracles ; we see the wor<t
 
 206 THE TEMPORAL ADVANTAGES 
 
 diseases of body or of mind healed or re- 
 lieved in those institutions which his Spi- 
 rit inspired, and over which it presides ; 
 and, like the disciples of old, we hear his 
 voice sending us forth to be fellow-work- 
 ers with him in these labours of love, with 
 him" " to preach the gospel to the poor ; to 
 heal the sick; to cleanse the lepers ; and free- 
 ly to give, as freely we have received" 
 
 On the subject of the institution, which 
 at present claims our assistance, my words 
 shall be few. It is most evidently a Chris- 
 tian institution, and breathes the genuine 
 spirit of the gospel. It supplies the poor 
 of our people with aid and advice, under 
 the pressure of disease ; restores to their 
 families the labour of fathers and of sons; 
 and smooths the bed of death to the infirm 
 and the aged. " It suffers likewise the little 
 children to come unto it ;" and by the appli- 
 cation of that blessed discovery *, which 
 
 * Vaccination.
 
 OF CHRISTIANITY. 207 
 
 has in our day been " a gift unto men" and 
 which has for ever freed the anxious 
 minds of parents from one of their hea- 
 viest alarms, it preserves to the poor man 
 those children to whom he yet looks for- 
 ward for his future support, and whom he 
 hopes to render a blessing to their coun- 
 try. I need not add one farther word of 
 recommendation. You have here, my 
 brethren, an opportunity of co-operating 
 with your heavenly master in his benevo- 
 lent designs for the good of mankind. 
 You have lately risen from his altar, where 
 you beheld him " ascending up on high, 
 and leading captivity captive" He now 
 sends you forth to be the ministers of " his 
 gifts to men" Go, then, and rejoice that 
 you are thought worthy to be so employ- 
 ed ; and remember with gratitude, " that, 
 inasmuch as ye do good to one of the least of 
 these his brethren" he esteems it done 
 " unto him /"
 
 SERMON XIV. 
 
 THE SUPERIOR IMPORTANCE OF MORAL 
 DUTIES. 
 
 MATTHEW, ix. 13. 
 
 * But go ye, and learn what that meaneth ; 
 I will have mercy, and not sacrifice" 
 
 1 HE Pharisees, who were particularly 
 rigid in their outward demeanour, al- 
 though their hearts were very far from 
 being penetrated with just sentiments of 
 religion, pretended to find fault with our 
 Saviour, for the ease and freedom with 
 which he frequented all kinds of society,
 
 THE SUPERIOR IMPORTANCE, &C. 
 
 as if by so doing, he was derogating from 
 that high character which he assumed. 
 " Why eateth your master with publicans and 
 sinners ?" was a question which they fre- 
 quently put to his disciples ; and the an- 
 swer which it received from Jesus was 
 one into the spirit of which they were 
 probably very little capable of entering. 
 " They that be whole (says he) need not a 
 physician, but they that are sick :" and then 
 in the words of the text he proceeds ; 
 " but go ye and learn what that meaneth, I 
 will have mercy and not sacrifice" As if 
 he had said ; " In consequence of your 
 perverted notions of religion, you cannot 
 at all comprehend the nature of my mis- 
 sion. You suppose that religion consists 
 in a formal attention to rites and cere- 
 monies ; I came into the world to shew 
 that it is an active principle, operating 
 upon man as a member of society, and 
 leading to a course of unwearied benefi- 
 
 o
 
 210 THE SUPERIOR IMPORTANCE 
 
 cence : you suppose that the Deity is gra- 
 tified with the pomp of worship and the 
 sanctity of the countenance ; I came to 
 shew that a good heart is what he re- 
 quires, and that he judges of the heart 
 much more from the conduct of man with 
 man, than from any praises or adoration 
 which can be bestowed on himself!" 
 
 The error of the Pharisees, which our 
 Saviour here exposes, is one which is very 
 apt to insinuate itself into the minds of 
 those, who, having acquired a speculative 
 belief in matters of faith, have yet ne- 
 glected to apply their religious principles 
 to the discipline of the heart. Religion, 
 considered merely as a speculation, opens 
 up so wide a field, whether we inquire 
 into the divine attributes, into the immor- 
 tality of man, or that peculiar dispensa- 
 tion of Providence revealed to us in the 
 gospel ; that the rnind which is occupied 
 with such investigations, is frequently
 
 OF MORAL DUTIES. 21 1 
 
 liable to be carried away from tbe busi 
 ness of life, and lost in the unseen world; 
 to quit sight of those ties by which it is 
 connected with the present order of 
 things. It is thus that religious views 
 occasionally abstract a man from the du- 
 ties which he owes to his fellow-creatures, 
 and lift him out of that sphere in which 
 Providence designed him to walk. Fix- 
 ing his thoughts on things above this 
 world, he is apt to look with contempt 
 both on the common pains, and the com- 
 mon pleasures incident to human nature ; 
 he becomes unfeeling and austere; mov- 
 ing in a higher circle, he scarcely regards 
 man as his brother; and his feelings 
 are more shocked with the neglect of 
 any reverential ceremony connected with 
 the objects of his meditation, than 
 with the violation of those moral ties 
 which bind man to man. Here we see 
 thu openings by which spiritual pride
 
 212 THE SUPERIOR IMPORTANCE 
 
 finds its way into the mind ; the sources 
 of uncharitable opinions and inhuman 
 bigotry ; the substitution of frivolous and 
 superstitious observances in the room of 
 real devotion and of active beneficence. 
 
 It will not therefore be an useless em- 
 ployment to enforce that view of religion 
 exhibited by our Saviour in the text ; for 
 which purpose I shall employ two argu- 
 ments, the first drawn from the considera- 
 tion of the divine beneficence, the second 
 from the condition of man in this world. 
 
 First then, contemplate the divine be- 
 neficence. If there is any thing certain 
 in religion, it is this ; that God is good ; 
 that he created the world in love ; and 
 that his kind providence and tender mercy 
 are over all his works. Whether we at- 
 tend to the marks of goodness displayed in- 
 the common administration of the world, 
 or take in those more enlarged views 
 with which Christianity presents us, it
 
 OF MORAL DUTIES. 
 
 will appear, that love to his creatures is the 
 ruling principle of the divine agency. 
 We cannot indeed, on any other ground, 
 account for the creation of the world, or 
 see a reason why a being, who was com- 
 plete in himself, should call into existence 
 such an infinite multiplicity of . living 
 creatures. The goodness of God is. a 
 great motive for every return of grati- 
 tude and devotion ; for the inward senti- 
 ments of a pious heart ; and for the out- 
 ward demonstration of homage and wor- 
 ship. But the assurance of this great 
 truth, that God is altogether beneficent, 
 may convince us, that every thing which 
 promotes the good of his creatures is 
 much more acceptable in his sight than 
 any praise or adoration which can be 
 conferred upon himself. " / will have 
 mercy and not sacrifice" is therefore, in all 
 likelihood, the language in which God ad- 
 dresses himself to every order of beings ;
 
 214 THE SUPERIOR IMPORTANCE 
 
 to the blessed spirits that enjoy the bright- 
 ness of his glory, and glow with the con- 
 stant flame of devotion, as well as to man ! 
 " Are they not all ministering spirits, (saith 
 the apostle to the Hebrews) sent forth to 
 minister for them who shall be heirs of sal- 
 vation ?" 
 
 But that this is the only language in 
 which man can reasonably be addressed, 
 will appear evident, if we go on, in the 
 second place, to consider his condition in 
 this world. -It is the doctrine of scrip- 
 ture, (and probably the soundest observa- 
 tions on human nature will confirm the 
 fact) that man is a fallen being; that he 
 is not such as he came from the hands of 
 God ; that he has in a great measure lost 
 sight of his divine origin ; and therefore, 
 all his attempts to elevate his thoughts to 
 the contemplation of the divine perfec- 
 tions, must be extremely defective and 
 inadequate. The praises which man can
 
 OF MORAL DUTIES. 
 
 bestow upon his Maker, can never be at 
 all worthy of the great Being to whom 
 they are addressed : they must always be 
 obscured by the imperfect apprehensions, 
 and the rising affections incident to the 
 human mind : the taste of spiritual things 
 is greatly vitiated and destroyed; and 
 probably the sincerest Christian, whose 
 mind is the most illuminated by the Spi- 
 rit of God, will still find in his purest arid 
 most perfect devotions, a large intermix- 
 ture of human infirmity and folly. 
 
 In this degraded condition of the soul of 
 man, banished as he is from a direct com- 
 munion with his Creator, and exposed to 
 all the temptations of a deceitful world ; 
 exposed to the allurements of sensuality, 
 to the vain distractions of worldly riches, 
 and the innumerable obstructions which 
 lie in his way to those heavenly mansions 
 where yet he hopes to find rest for his 
 soul, what a beautiful ami simple path is
 
 216 THE SUPERIOR IMPORTANCE 
 
 still opened up for him by the goodness 
 of God ! " / will have mercy and not sacri- 
 fice." 1 seek not from man what he can- 
 not perform ; I ask not praises worthy my 
 acceptance, which he never can hestow : 
 to feel his distance, " to walk humbly with 
 his God" is the best proof he can give of 
 his devotion ; but surely I require of him 
 " to do justly, and to love mercy" And it 
 is a most beautiful circumstance, that the 
 very condition of human nature which 
 has rendered man incapable of elevating 
 his thoughts to God in a manner at all 
 suitable to the dignity of the object, has 
 opened up to him the widest opportunity 
 for the exercise of all the virtues which 
 have man for their object. 
 
 In what scene, so well as in this world, 
 where wickedness and misery prevail, can 
 the virtues of justice and of charity shine 
 with their brightest lustre ? In the re- 
 gions of light, where God is fully known,
 
 OF MORAL DUTIES. 217 
 
 the fervour of devotion will glow intense- 
 ly ; we in this abode of sin and darkness 
 can be enlightened only by a few partial 
 rays. But indignation at wrong and op- 
 pression ; a strong feeling of what is due 
 to man ; compassion for the sufferings, and 
 a tender interest in the happiness of our 
 fellow-creatures; can no where be learnt 
 so well as in this world, where these vir- 
 tues are so necessary, and have so many 
 opportunities for exertion. So striking 
 is this fact ; so peculiarly adapted is this 
 world to be the school of compassion, and 
 of that character of virtue which we term 
 humanity, that, in a remarkable passage 
 of the epistle to the Hebrews, one of the 
 reasons why the Son of God himself is 
 said to have assumed our nature, and to 
 be tempted in all points like as we are, 
 is, that he might " be touched with a J eel- 
 ing of our infirmities? This then is evi- 
 dently the course which man ought to
 
 218 THE SUPERIOR IMPORTANCE 
 
 take, to perfect himself, in as far as he 
 can, in those virtuous habits which his si- 
 tuation here has the greatest tendency to 
 produce, without aiming prematurely at 
 the acquisition of endowments, which may 
 be reserved to complete his holiness and 
 happiness in a higher stage of existence. 
 It will not, I hope, be inferred from 
 any thing which has now been said, that 
 religious exercises, or the duties of prayer 
 and praise, are useless and insignificant. 
 On the contrary, they keep alive in the 
 mind a sense of the divine superinten- 
 dence, and the sentiment of devotion. 
 All that I wish to establish is this im- 
 portant truth, that, in the present condi- 
 tion of. our nature, our duty to God is 
 best performed by the strict and consci- 
 entious discharge of our duties to man ; 
 by cultivating every right affection, and 
 promoting the good of mankind in every 
 way,
 
 OF MORAL DUTIES. 
 
 The beauty of the order of Providence 
 consists in this, that the soul of man has 
 a prospect, indeed, but a dark and a dis- 
 tant one, of something higher awaiting 
 it than any thing in this world can sup- 
 ply ; of nobler occupations and more 
 elevated enjoyments ; of a nearer ap- 
 proximation to the source from which it 
 proceeded, the eternal fountain of all ex- 
 istence. This is the distant view which 
 it becomes us to keep in our eye, which 
 ought to exalt our thoughts and raise 
 them above every thing mean, despi- 
 cable, and contrary to religious purity. 
 But when, attaching our thoughts to those 
 views, or to any other pious meditations, 
 we forget our present condition, and our 
 different ties and connections in human 
 society, we are evidently losing sight of 
 the path before us, and which alone can 
 conduct us well to our journey's end. 
 The prospect of a beautiful land for the
 
 220 THE SUPEHIORxIMPORTANCE 
 
 termination of our journey, is no doubt 
 delightful, and is a great incitement for 
 keeping us steady in our course ; but 
 when, instead of looking at the road on 
 which we must travel, we always keep 
 our eyes on the country whither we are 
 going, we shall be in great danger of 
 mistaking our way. 
 
 In a word, it will appear, that every 
 attempt to be religious, which does not 
 rest on the foundation of an humble en- 
 deavour to perform our duty in every 
 station in which we are placed, rests on 
 a false principle, and implies an imper- 
 tinent and vainglorious familiarity with 
 the Deity, which, of all beings, it least 
 becomes man to assume. 
 
 We who are so much in the dark, and 
 who, from Christianity itself, have re- 
 ceived only some mysterious intimations 
 concerning the divine proceedings, we, 
 of all beings who exist^ ought to. avoid
 
 OF MORAL DUTIES. 221 
 
 every proud and lofty conceit which 
 would seem to exalt us above the station 
 in which we stand, and carry us away 
 from the humble duties incumbent upon 
 us as men : but it is only when we at- 
 tempt to be religious without concerning 
 ourselves in the good of mankind, that 
 our religion becomes useless, or positive- 
 ly mischievous. When their natural 
 union is preserved, the love of God and 
 the love of man invigorate each other. 
 Glory to God on high, and peace and 
 good will to men, were united together in 
 the song of the angels, and ought ever to 
 be in the hearts of men.
 
 SERMON XV. 
 
 CONNECTION OF MORALITY AND RELIGION. 
 
 -/ <",'-!< '<[ '* >x ; t!i '>':;'{[>'{ 'fJjO 
 
 ?<VIs))f;ii '!!<!; == .'i'i'j 
 
 HEBREWS, X. 38. 
 
 " JVbry the just shall live by faith" 
 
 in i .* j . j .' 'j .' i * i ' i j " < . . . i ' 
 
 IN a former discourse, my brethren, I 
 endeavoured to shew the superior impor- 
 tance of the moral and social virtues, over 
 those religious exercises, or devout me- 
 ditations, which are unconnected with the 
 immediate intercourse of man with man. 
 I first shewed, that as the leading cha- 
 racteristic of the divine nature is benefi-
 
 CONNECTION OF MORALITY, &C. 223 
 
 eence, no employment can possibly be 
 so pleasing to the Deity as an endeavour 
 to promote the good of his creatures ; 
 and that the noblest proof of a heart at- 
 tached to his service, is the humble imi- 
 tation of his greatest attribute. But far- 
 ther, if there were any doubt upon this 
 subject, when considered as a general 
 question, there can be none when it is 
 applied to the particular condition of 
 man. What exercises of religion, or 
 what devotion can man shew, which are 
 not rather a detraction from the majesty 
 of God, than a tribute of praise worthy 
 of his acceptance ? and what greater evi- 
 dence of the divine condescension, than 
 that he permits himself to be addressed 
 or contemplated by a creature so weak 
 and erroneous? Yet, in the condition 
 of man, how many opportunities are 
 there for the highest display of every so- 
 cial virtue ? What noble exertions of
 
 CONNECTION OF MORALITY 
 
 patriotism, of love, of friendship, of ge- 
 nerosity, and of justice, may be exhibit- 
 ed amid the passing scenes of mortal life? 
 and what theatre can we imagine so ad- 
 mirably adapted as this world, for supply- 
 ing these virtues with every opportunity 
 of action.? 
 
 When these truths, my brethren, im- 
 press a mind instructed in religious prin- 
 ciples, they will guide its exertions in 
 the best course ; they will lead its devo- 
 tion into the channel of beneficence ; 
 they will prevent it from giving way to 
 any thing dark and superstitious in reli- 
 gion, and will supply it with a constant 
 source of activity, of cheerfulness, and 
 of honour. There is, however, an er- 
 roneous view of this subject, which, find- 
 ing a ready assent from the vanity of the 
 human heart, frequently leads men into 
 much vice and misery, while it flatters
 
 AND RELIGION. 25 
 
 them with the delusive prospects of vir- 
 tue and happiness. 
 
 This is the supposition that virtue may 
 exist independently of religion ; that the 
 thoughts of God and of futurity rather 
 interrupt than promote the active exer- 
 tions of man ; and that no principle can 
 have so strong an influence on a generous 
 mind, as the love of virtue for its own 
 sake. The bosoms of the young are pe- 
 culiarly alive to this splendid represen- 
 tation of human nature. The stories of 
 ancient heroism seem to attest its truth ; 
 and when we look back with admiration 
 and reverence to those illustrious charac- 
 ters which shed a glory over the dark- 
 ness of heathen times, we are sometimes 
 disposed to undervalue that light of im- 
 mortality which the gospel ushered into 
 the world. We turn our eyes from .the 
 pages which record the history of saints 
 and martyrs, to those more dazzling nar- 
 
 p
 
 226 CONNECTION OF MORALITY 
 
 ratives which relate the actions of patri- 
 ots and sages ; and, captivated with the 
 splendour of human virtue in its natural 
 and unassisted form, we are sometimes 
 apt to treat the pretensions to divine illu- 
 mination as fanaticism and folly. 
 
 It thus not imfrequently happens, that 
 the young are betrayed, by the love of vir- 
 tue itself, into a contempt for those princi- 
 ples from which virtue receives its best sup- 
 port; and the melancholy consequence 
 too often is, that when, in the progress of 
 life, the enthusiasm of morality subsides, 
 the mind, having no steady foundation 
 on which to build, is delivered over to 
 the sway of every accidental passion. It 
 is, therefore, my brethren, of importance 
 to consider that great religious truth, that 
 the true foundation of virtue is faith ; that 
 it is " by faith the just shall live ;" and we 
 shall thus perceive the error of those opi-
 
 AND RELIGION. 227 
 
 nions which represent morality as some- 
 thing detached from religion. 
 
 " Faith (according to the definition of 
 the Apostle to the Hebrews) is the sub- 
 stance of things hoped for, the evidence of 
 things not seen" Consider, then, first, 
 morality in its lowest form ; as merely a 
 collection of rules for the prudent con- 
 duct of life ; as requiring no high exer- 
 tions of virtue, hut recommending only 
 a general habit of inoffensiveness and hu- 
 manity, proper attention to our worldly 
 concerns, and a temperate use of the en- 
 joyments of life : perhaps it may not ap- 
 pear obvious, that even this lower degree 
 of morality, when it is perseveringly ad- 
 hered to as a principle of action, has its 
 foundation in a species of religious faith. 
 It has its foundation in a calm and atten- 
 tive survey of the plan of Providence ; in 
 recognizing this plan to be good; and in 
 believing, notwithstanding many contra-
 
 '228 CONNECTION OF MORALITY 
 
 dictory appearances, that virtue is the^in- 
 fallible road to happiness. The rewards, 
 indeed, at which it aims are merely tem- 
 poral ; yet they are of an higher order 
 than are commonly sought after by the 
 world. They are not the glitter of af- 
 fluence, nor the vanity of power; but 
 they are the solid comforts of a mind at 
 peace with mankind and with itself. To 
 perceive the superior excellence of such 
 rewards to the common objects of hu- 
 man estimation, the eye of faith is in fact 
 required ; that eye which looks beyond 
 appearances ; which, amid the glare 
 of vulgar delusion, can trace the finer 
 form of real good, and can descry, with 
 an intuitive assurance, future compensa- 
 tion to be the consequence of present 
 forbearance. This lowest species of vir- 
 tue, when it is a steady and regular prin- 
 ciple of conduct, rests,, therefore, upon 
 a kind of observation and belief which,
 
 AND RELIGION'. 
 
 if not exactly religion, might yet, with- 
 out much difficulty, be improved into 
 that principle. 
 
 But, secondly, when we reflect on 
 some of the higher characteristics of vir- 
 tue, characteristics which, to the honour 
 of human nature, are to be traced in all 
 the various aspects of society, and in 
 every age of the world, on what prin- 
 ciple do we suppose are they founded ? 
 What do we imagine was the secret 
 spring of those heroic exertions which we 
 contemplate with so much admiration in 
 the history of antiquity ? What was the 
 firm foundation on which they rested ? 
 Were they derived from the declama- 
 tions of the schools concerning the chief 
 good, from glowing pictures of the beau- 
 ty of virtue, or any transient enthusiasm 
 of philosophic minds ? They were the 
 natural effects of that principle in the 
 soul of man which aims at something
 
 230 CONNECTION OF MORALITY 
 
 higher and nobler than the vulgar pur- 
 suits or pleasures of the world, which 
 feels the native dignity of the human 
 rnind, and which, even amid the clouds 
 of heathen darkness, could find the link 
 that binds earth to heaven. In this view, 
 there cannot be a finer or more improv- 
 ing subject of meditation than the lives 
 of the really good men in the heathen 
 world : there cannot be a finer exempli- 
 fication of sound and steady principle 
 struggling with difficulty and darkness, 
 or of that firm assurance and faith which, 
 in spite of the most opposite appearances, 
 leads the virtuous to repose in the ap- 
 pointments of Providence, while they are 
 pursuing their high but arduous career. 
 
 That the virtue of these illustrious men 
 received its firmness and stability from 
 religious principle, may appear among 
 other things from the reverence and re- 
 gard which the best and wisest among
 
 AND RELIGION. 231 
 
 them paid to the religious institutions of 
 their country. Those institutions were 
 bad, and gave support to the most la- 
 mentable superstitions ; yet they were the 
 best with which men were then acquaint- 
 ed ; and it is pleasing to consider how 
 much religious wisdom was still acquired 
 under all these disadvantages, by the vir- 
 tuous and contemplative. 
 
 There cannot, then, be a more grie- 
 vous mistake, than to suppose that the 
 great characters of ancient times are in 
 any respect exemplifications of the sepa- 
 ration of virtue from religion : they are 
 perhaps, on the contrary, more strik- 
 ing instances than even the history of 
 Christianity can supply, of the close 
 and intimate union between these prin- 
 ciples : they are instances of the mighty 
 effects which were produced by concen- 
 trating and cherishing the weak and 
 scattered rays of religion then spread
 
 CONNECTION OF MORALITY 
 
 over the earth : they are instances of men 
 > 
 
 acting with firmness and resolution on 
 the imperfect prinpiples which they at 
 that time possessed ; holding on in their 
 course with unconquerahle spirits ; or, in 
 the language of one of their own poets*, 
 maintaining the integrity and stability of 
 an upright mind, even amidst the ruins of 
 a falling world. 
 
 Having thus, my brethren, endeavour- 
 ed to shew, that a principle nearly allied 
 to religious faith has really at all times 
 been the foundation of true virtue, it sure- 
 ly will not be necessary to prove that our 
 religion opens up the noblest prospects 
 which can possibly be presented to thq 
 soul of man. It opens up the boundless 
 prospect of eternity ; it holds out to the 
 eye of virtue never-fading rewards ; and 
 calls upon man to be strenuous in every 
 
 * Si fractus illabatur orbis 
 
 Impatidum ferient ruinae. Hon.
 
 A> T D RELIGION. 233 
 
 worthy pursuit, if he would contend for 
 the crown of everlasting life. It points 
 to those heavenly mansions where the 
 good of every age shall meet after this 
 world has passed away. It points to 
 that gracious Saviour who has gone be- 
 fore us, and, who will, on that day, wipe 
 away all tears from all faces. It points 
 to the eternal Father of existence, into 
 whose presence we shall be advanced, 
 and who will smile with unclouded be T 
 neficence on his assembled children! 
 
 Such are the lofty prospects which 
 Christianity places before us as the final 
 consummation of a virtuous life; prospects 
 which remove the veil from the face of 
 Providence, and place the whole plan of 
 God in a clear and obvious light. 
 
 How beautifully such prospects en- 
 courage and establish the virtue of man, 
 will appear chiefly, if we consider with 
 what facility they accommodate them-
 
 234 CONNECTION OF MORALITY 
 
 selves to all the varying circumstances 
 and conditions of human life.; The great- 
 est and most prosperous man cannot pre- 
 tend that he is above them ; the poorest 
 feels that he is ennobled by them, and 
 that they lift him from the dust. They 
 check the presumption of the one, and 
 elevate the soul of the other. They at 
 once sweep away all the petty distinctions 
 of human life, and open the view of that 
 path which all men equally are concerned 
 to tread. Religious instruction alone is 
 equally applicable to all descriptions of 
 men. It is heard by the king upon the 
 throne. It visits the obscurity of the cot- 
 tage. It encourages the poor man to 
 cultivate every good principle of action, 
 as well as the man of exalted rank ; to 
 aim at the possession of true nobility of 
 mind ; and assures him that he too shall 
 reap his reward, if he faint not.
 
 AND RELIGION. 235 
 
 What then, my brethren, can be so 
 sure or universal a foundation for any 
 scheme of regular and consistent virtue, 
 as that "faith by which the just shall live;" 
 and how greatly does it become us, to 
 " hold fast the form of sound words which 
 we have heard, in faith and love which is in 
 Christ Jesus f"
 
 
 SERMON XVI. 
 
 THE SAME SUBJECT ILLUSTRATED BY THE 
 CHARACTER OF THE GOOD CENTURION. 
 
 MATTHEW, viii. 8 t 
 
 " The centurion answered and said, Lord, I 
 am not worthy that thou shouldst come 
 under my roof ; but speak the word only t 
 and my servant shall be healed" 
 
 1 HERE are few circumstances, in the 
 writings of the sacred historians, more 
 useful or important, than those occasional 
 incidents which they have related con- 
 cerning the conduct and characters of
 
 CONNECTION OF MORALITYj &C. S3? 
 
 men, who had no immediate connection 
 with the mission of our Saviour. In such 
 instances, we can trace most easily the 
 natural operation of virtue or vice upon 
 the human heart. In the character of 
 our Lord himself, however beautifully it 
 is softened down to the weakness of man, 
 and however natural it appears in the 
 midst of its perfection, there is yet a height 
 and a purity of principle which we can 
 but faintly comprehend, and much more 
 faintly imitate. In the characters of the 
 apostles we discover, indeed, very distinct- 
 ly, the usual tendencies both of virtue and 
 of vice, by which the heart of man is in- 
 fluenced ; yet the sphere of action in 
 which they were engaged was so singular 
 and lofty, that we are apt to class them in 
 our imaginations with an higher order of 
 beings, and, in the splendour of their su- 
 pernatural endowments, to lose sight of
 
 238 CONNECTION OF MORALITY 
 
 that common nature by which we are 
 connected with them. 
 
 It is with such characters as the centu- 
 rion in the text that we can most readily 
 compare ourselves ; men engaged in the 
 common professions, and exercising the 
 common duties of life, whose religious im- 
 pressions were derived from no miraculous 
 call, and 'who were rather spectators of 
 the great scheme of divine Providence, 
 at that time transacting in the world, than 
 themselves actively engaged in carrying 
 it on. The incident recorded in the gos- 
 pel for this day * naturally leads me to 
 make some reflections on the character of 
 that excellent person to whom I have 
 now alluded ; a character simple and un- 
 pretending, but in the highest degree es- 
 timable, and which drew from him, to 
 whom the human heart was known, that 
 
 * Third Sunday after the Epiphany.
 
 AND RELIGION. 239 
 
 noble and sublime encomium, that he had 
 " not found so great faith, no, not in Israel." 
 The leading feature in the mind of this 
 worthy man seems to have been fairness 
 or honesty, which equally influenced him 
 in the conduct of his understanding, and 
 in the regulation of his life. The faith 
 which our Saviour commends in him so 
 highly was plainly the result of this dis- 
 position. As a Roman citizen, he must 
 have been disposed to look with indiffe- 
 rence, if not with contempt, on the reli- 
 gious sects and opinions of a conquered 
 people ; and nothing but that honest love 
 of truth, which seems to have been the 
 guiding principle of his understanding, 
 could have prompted him to inquire into 
 the foundation of the reports in circula- 
 tion, concerning the character and the 
 miracles of Christ. When he made the 
 inquiry, he appears to have conducted it 
 with much coolness and deliberation ; and
 
 240 CONNECTION OF MORALITY 
 
 the firm persuasion in which it termi- 
 nated, was established in his mind by a 
 natural process of reasoning, derived frpm 
 the habits of his own life. He himself 
 he knew, was a man under authority, 
 having soldiers under him ; and likening 
 the great government of the world to 
 that little part of it with which he was 
 conversant, he now believed that he had 
 found the chosen minister of heaven, to 
 whom all authority was committed over 
 nature and man. 
 
 While the faith of this remarkable per- 
 son was thus cautious and deliberate, it 
 yet seems to have rested on no superflu- 
 ous or impertinent curiosity. We have 
 no reason to suppose, from the sacred his- 
 torians, that he had himself witnessed 
 any of our Lord's wonderful works, or 
 that he had so much as seen him till he 
 went to implore his assistance for the re- 
 lief of his servant. The faith, therefore,
 
 AND RELIGIOX. 
 
 in which his mind reposed, does not ap- 
 pear to have been of that overwhelming 
 nature which could not be resisted : it 
 was not the faith of the eyes ; but it was 
 more, it was the faith of the understand- 
 ing and of the heart. 
 
 The strength of his faith, indeed, from 
 these sources, seems rather to have made 
 him avoid the opportunity of having any 
 direct intercourse with our Saviour. He 
 was satisfied with hearing of him and wor- 
 shipping him at a distance ; he felt himself 
 unworthy that so great a person should 
 come under his roof; and had not the 
 call of humanity at last forced him to 
 break through his restraint, it is probable 
 that the humility of his mind would have 
 still kept him from entering into the pre- 
 sence of the Master whom in secret he 
 served. It is not to be wondered at then, 
 my brethren, that when our Lord had 
 .conversed with this good- centurion, he 
 Q
 
 242 CONNECTION OF MORALITY 
 
 should have spoken of him with such 
 distinguished approbation ; or that, when 
 he contrasted the genuine and self-taught 
 faith of this unenlightened heathen with 
 the blind and unconquerable incredulity 
 of the chosen people of God, he should 
 indeed have said, that he had " not found, 
 so great faith, no, not in Israel." 
 
 It is not, however, the greatness of the 
 centurion's faith that is alone admirable. 
 The same just and correct feelings which 
 prompted his belief, freed it likewise 
 from every thing enthusiastic or extrava- 
 gant. He had faith enough certainly to 
 have become an apostle, and he could 
 have followed his Lord into prison or k> 
 death. But to this office he was not 
 called, and his humility forbade him to 
 aspire. A mind less duly regulated might, 
 in his circumstances, have formed the 
 splendid purpose of preaching the gospel 
 to the gentiles ; but his qualifications, he
 
 AND RELIGION. 243 
 
 knew, were of a different description, and 
 the line of his duty had already been 
 marked out by Providence. He was 
 the master of a family, and, in this ca- 
 pacity, had many private duties to per- 
 form. He had likewise a public situa- 
 tion ; " he was a man under authority, 
 having soldiers under him ;" and, in the 
 faithful discharge of the duties which this 
 office imposed upon him, he felt he could 
 be of more essential service to his coun- 
 try and to mankind, than by starting out 
 into a sphere for which he was not qua- 
 lified by his previous habits. After hav- 
 ing obtained from our Lord, therefore, 
 a favourable answer to his request, he 
 immediately returns to the duties which 
 he had left behind him ; he is no more 
 mentioned in the history of our religion ; 
 his name even is unknown, like the 
 names of innumerable worthy individuals 
 which are no where preserved in the re-
 
 244 CONNECTION OF MORALITY 
 
 cords of men, but which are written ia 
 the books of God. 
 
 How well the humble duties of hi* 
 station were performed ; how admirably 
 the character of his life corresponded 
 with his religious impressions ; how plain- 
 ly the same principle of a conscientious 
 and honest mind led to both, will appear 
 evidently from the short notices of his 
 private history which the Evangelists 
 have left us. It is evident, in the first 
 place, that he was well acquainted with 
 his own public duty, and enforced the 
 performance of their duty upon others. 
 ft I am a man under authority (says he), 
 having soldiers under me, and I say unto 
 this, man, go, and he goetk ; and to another 
 &o?ne, and he cometh ; and to my servant, 
 do this, and he doeth it" He was, there- 
 fore, deserving of trust in a public station ; 
 orderly and active in having the business 
 of it performed ; and employing those
 
 AND RELIGION. 245 
 
 only on whose obedience and alacrity he 
 could depend. 
 
 While he was thus steady in enforcing 
 the obedience of those under his authori- 
 ty, his kindness and humanity is equally 
 apparent. His authority was strict, but 
 it was merciful and compassionate. No- 
 thing can be a plainer proof of this than 
 the interest which he took in the sick- 
 ness of his servant. We often hear in 
 the Gospels of men applying to our Lord 
 for the relief of their own infirmities, or 
 those of their near relations, but, perhaps, 
 this is the single instance of a similar ap- 
 plication being made in the case of a ser- 
 vant. " And this (as is well observed 
 by a venerable prelate *) is the more re- 
 markable, and the more honourable to 
 the centurion, because, in general, the 
 treatment which the servants of the Ro* 
 
 * Bishop of London'i Lecturtp,
 
 246 CONNECTION OF MORALITY 
 
 mans experienced from their masters, was 
 very different indeed from what we see 
 in the present instance. These servants 
 were almost all of them slaves, and were 
 too commonly treated with extreme ri- 
 gour and cruelty. They were often strain- 
 ed to labour beyond their strength ; were 
 confined to loathsome dungeons ; were 
 loaded with chains ; were scourged and 
 tortured without reason ; were desert- 
 ed in sickness and old age ; and put to 
 death for trivial faults and slight suspi^ 
 cions, and sometimes out of mere wan- 
 tonness and cruelty. Such barbarity as 
 this, which was at that time by no means 
 uncommon, forms a most striking con- 
 trast to the kindness and compassion of 
 the centurion, who, though he had so 
 much power over his slaves, and so many 
 instances of its severest exertion before 
 his eyes, made use of it, as we here see, 
 not for their oppression and destruction.
 
 AND RELIGION. 247 
 
 but their happiness, comfort, and preser* 
 ration." 
 
 A more public instance of this man's 
 worth is mentioned by St Luke, In his 
 relation of the same incident, we are in- 
 formed, that, " when the centurion heard 
 of Jesus, he sent unto him the elders of the 
 Jews, beseeching him that he would come 
 and heal his servant. And when they came 
 to Jesus, they besought him instantly, saying, 
 that he was worthy for whom he should do 
 this ; for he loveth our nation, and he hath 
 built us a synagogue." There is some- 
 thing very striking in this circumstance. 
 The centurion, a Roman soldier, loved 
 the nation of the Jews, a people whom 
 the Romans held in contempt and ab- 
 horrence. It does not at all appear that 
 he himself had become a convert to the 
 Jewish religion. Although his mind had 
 been deeply impressed by the character 
 and the actions of Christ, it is likely that
 
 248 CONNECTION OF MORALITT 
 
 he never thought of examining the preten- 
 sions of the Mosaic law. This, however, 
 was the religion of the people among 
 whom he resided, and over whom he ex- 
 ercised a command, and, as such, he pro- 
 tected and encouraged it. It appears 
 that, although a Gentile, he in return 
 gained their affections ; " he is worthy 
 (said they) for ivhom t/wu shouldest do this ; 
 for he loveth our nation, and he hath built 
 us a synagogue" NQ more honourable 
 testimony could be brought to the dis- 
 tinguished integrity and benevolence of 
 this conscientious man ; and no more 
 beautiful proof can be found, that genu- 
 ine goodness will conquer the most stub- 
 born prejudices ; will overleap the dis- 
 tinctions of sect or country ; and, in 
 whatever spot of the earth it is placed, 
 will find the tie which connects it with 
 the great brotherhood of mankind, and 
 will gain, in return, that reward which it
 
 AND RELIGIOK. 249 
 
 best loves, the cordial gratitude of those 
 whom it protects and fosters, 
 
 Such, my brethren, is a very imperfect 
 sketch of the character of this good cen- 
 turion. It is a character undoubtedly 
 uncommon, yet it is one which is easily 
 open to the imitation of every human 
 being. In order to attain it, no splendid 
 abilities are requisite, no high exertions. 
 It is simply the character of a man who 
 is steadily attentive to the voice of con- 
 science, who, in obedience to that voice 
 regulates his religious impressions, and 
 forms the conduct of his life. It is a cha- 
 racter therefore highly deserving our 
 most serious attention. In the faith of 
 the centurion, you see the natural result 
 of this fairness of mind exerted upon the 
 subject of religion. You see it contem- 
 plating, with just appreciation, those ap- 
 pearances which were presented to it; rea- 
 soning, indeed, but reasoning with sim-
 
 250 CONNECTION OF MORALITY 
 
 plicity ; not seeking to overpower the 
 evidence on which it commented by in- 
 jurious sophistry, but rather satisfied with 
 less evidence than it could easily have 
 attained. You see this steady and sound 
 faith, leading its possessor to no wander- 
 ing or enthusiastic fanaticism ; not call- 
 ing him to desert the unnoticed duties of 
 common life : sending him back, on the 
 contrary, to fill his station in society with 
 new and redoubled vigour, and comfort- 
 ing him with the sublime thought, that 
 in the most private offices of humanity, 
 as well as in the greatest and most con- 
 spicuous, he might still be " a fellow worker 
 with God'' In the life of the centurion, 
 you see the inseparable connection be- 
 tween faith and works, or the same prin- 
 ciple of conscience which guided his un- 
 derstanding to truth, regulating every de- 
 partment of his conduct. You see these
 
 AND RELIGION. 251 
 
 things, my brethren, and they are given 
 to you as an example, and they call upon 
 you to "go and do likewise" 
 
 I shall only observe, in conclusion, that 
 our advantages are in some respects su- 
 perior to those possessed by the good cen- 
 turion. His early years were passed un- 
 der the darkness of idolatry, and it was 
 only after he was advanced in life that 
 
 / 
 
 his eyes were opened to that " light which 
 has come into the world" We indeed have 
 been accounted unworthy, (as he had the 
 humility to esteem himself,) that our Lord 
 should enter under our roofs ; but from 
 the period of our infancy we have been in 
 possession of those words which have con- 
 veyed the voice of healing to ourselves 
 and our houses. Let us, my bretbren, pro- 
 fit as we ought from this advantage, that 
 we may not be numbered among " those 
 children of the kingdom who shall be cast
 
 CONNECTION OF MORALITY, &C. 
 
 out into outer darkness" but among that in- 
 numerable multitude " which shall come 
 from the east and from the west, and shall 
 sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, and 
 Jacob, in the kingdom of heaven /" 
 
 , .v^x; 98ft fil ot i f .'>
 
 SERMON XVII. 
 
 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY, AS IT INFLUENCES 
 OUR JUDGMENTS OF EACH OTHER. 
 
 MATTHEW, vii. I. 
 " Judge not, that ye be not judged" 
 
 1 HE great law of Christian charity is 
 both too little understood, and too little 
 practised. Men will not so far enlarge 
 their minds, as to acknowledge its beauty 
 and excellence ; but, contemplating the 
 vices which prevail in the world, they 
 are apt to believe that charity to the of-
 
 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 
 
 fenders is nothing but Weakness. In our 
 practice> it is evident that we are con- 
 stantly liable to magnify our own good 
 qualities, and to look with too great ab- 
 horrence on the imperfections of others. 
 Indeed so Tain a creature is man, that 
 there is scarcely any quality, however in- 
 significant, that will not help to raise him 
 in his own conceit; while there are scarce- 
 ly any virtues so transcendent and estima- 
 ble, that will secure his neighbour from 
 becoming the object of his hasty cen- 
 
 * s 
 
 sures. 
 
 It is my view at present to point out 
 the reasonableness and excellence of cha- 
 rity, and then to enforce the practice of 
 this virtue. Let us then, my brethren, 
 begin with considering those aspects of 
 human nature which present themselves 
 to us, wherever we throw our eyes over 
 this wonderful world. We every where 
 behold a being beginning in helplessness
 
 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 255 
 
 and weakness, smiling on the looks of 
 maternal affection, or crying from the 
 early sense of misery. This creature un- 
 folds its faculties with its years; and be- 
 fore it well knows where it is, the seeds 
 of vice have been scattered in its soul. 
 In some happy minds, the generous shoots 
 of virtue, the early blossoms of wisdom, 
 rise with beautiful regularity over the 
 weeds which entangle their progress ; but 
 the human character in general is a dis- 
 orderly scene, running wild into extra- 
 vagant passions, or cold, barren, and un- 
 fruitful. 
 
 Yet in however sad a condition, into 
 whatever disorder man is thrown, he 
 still retains some vestiges of his high ori- 
 ginal, and never seems entirely lost to the 
 sense of good f When he is a martyr to 
 vice, he hangs his head, and blushes with 
 the consciousness which oppresses him ; 
 and if he should be unable to cast off the
 
 256 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITT. 
 
 yoke, he yet shews that it is grievous to 
 be borne. The most shameless characters 
 will, in general, be found to be those who 
 have had the least opportunity of know- 
 ing what is good ; who, from the misfor- 
 tunes of their childhood, have been thrown 
 loose upon society, and accustomed from 
 their earliest years to low and degenerate 
 infamy. Indeed, on whatever forms of 
 vice we fix our attention, something will 
 occur to palliate ; no man will appear ra- 
 dically and innately bad; and the race 
 of men in general, will seem rather to be 
 labouring under a heavy misfortune, than 
 to be the objects of unrelenting ven- 
 geance. 
 
 If then, my brethren, we could assume 
 the station of some superior being, qua- 
 lified to sit as judge on man, himself ex- 
 empt from human weaknesses, and only 
 the spectator of human conduct, even 
 from such a station we could scarcelv
 
 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. Q57 
 
 look down on this poor mortal creature 
 with any other emotions than those of 
 tenderness and pity. True; we should be 
 astonished with the view of extravagant 
 folly; we should be shocked with the 
 sight of detestable guilt ; we should be 
 confounded with seeing a creature formed 
 to be good and happy, immersing itself In 
 depravity, and running headlong to de- 
 struction. Yet there would be always 
 something in man which would make 
 pity predominate ; and when we gazed 
 in horror at the hardened ruffian, dealing 
 in blood and breathing fury, we should 
 still recollect the innocent playfulness of 
 the same creature, while yet a child in 
 its mother's arms. 
 
 Such seems to be the aspect in which 
 man has appeared to the great Being 
 from whom he originally proceeded, and 
 who, notwithstanding all his wanderings, 
 has yet not discarded for ever this pro- 
 
 R
 
 258 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 
 
 digal son. Some beings, we are told, of 
 a higher nature than ours, have lost them- 
 selves so far, and have been guilty of such 
 flagrant disobedience, that the Almighty 
 has abandoned them to destruction. But 
 to man an extraordinary rescue has been 
 granted, and the most compassionate of 
 all Beings has been sent into the world, 
 to instruct, to comfort, and to die for him. 
 Solicitations and entreaties have been 
 made to call in the greatest sinners ; and 
 no human being appears too mean and 
 despicable to receive the offer of heaven 
 and of eternal happiness. 
 
 Such is man in the eye of God ; what, 
 then, ought he to be in the eye of man ? 
 Wilt thou pretend to despise him whom 
 God esteems so highly ; and wilt thou 
 judge harshly of thy brother, for whom 
 
 4 
 
 Christ has died ? If superior beings were 
 to regard the vices of man with detesta- 
 tion merely, unmixed with pity ; if God
 
 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 259 
 
 were to leave him to his own devices, and 
 to that destruction which he so often seems 
 to court, what answer could be made, and 
 who should dare to arraign the justice of 
 the Most High ? But thou, O man, who 
 art thyself spotted with iniquity, wilt thou 
 pretend to look with cold and contemp- 
 tuous severity on the failings of thy bro- 
 ther ? When God himself has consented 
 to sink his indignation against sin in his 
 pity for the offender ; when the good an- 
 gels look down upon their earthly bre- 
 thren with kind wishes for their success, 
 and with sorrow for their failings, wilt 
 thou, who thyself requirest all this mercy 
 and pity, fix upon any one of the human 
 race a severe or contemptuous eye ? I 
 know what thou wilt say, that thou art 
 not as other men are, extortioners, unjust, 
 adulterers, or even as this publican ; thou 
 fastest twice in the week ; thou givest 
 tythes of all that thou possessest ; yet the
 
 ON CHRISTIAN CHAKITY. 
 
 publican, who standeth afar off) and will 
 not lift up so much as his eyes to heaven, 
 but smiteth on his breast, saying, God be 
 merciful to me, a sinner ; this man will 
 go down to his house justified rather than 
 thou. 
 
 Indeed, my brethren, the circumstance, 
 which is one of the fundamental tenets of 
 Christianity, that every man is a sinner, 
 this circumstance affords an unanswerable 
 argument for mutual charity and forbear- 
 ance, and ought to dispose every one to 
 judge as favourably of his neighbour as 
 he possibly can. If I have been guilty 
 of innumerable vices ; have every day 
 done those things which I ought not to 
 have done, and left undone those things 
 which I ought to have done, is it at all to 
 be tolerated, that, instead of being afflict- 
 ed for my own transgressions, I should 
 pore upon those of my surrounding bre- 
 thren ? Am I, who have myself a corrupt-
 
 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 
 
 ed nature, whose judgment is vitiated by 
 disorderly passions, who have a kind of 
 unnatural satisfaction in discovering, the 
 vices. of others, that I may appear more 
 perfect in my own eyes ; am I, in any re- 
 spect, a competent judge of the real me- 
 rits of any one of mankind ? Some subor- 
 dinate judgments, indeed, we must form, 
 sufficient to guide us in our conduct a- 
 mong men ; we must learn whom to con- 
 sort with, and whom to avoid ; the nature 
 of society requires that we should be se- 
 parated into nations, and parties, and 
 sects ; and the purest principles of Chria- 
 tianity will always be found to accommo- 
 date themselves to the state of the world 
 in which we live. But, in all our judg- 
 ments and decisions upon men, we must 
 never proceed beyond what is plain and 
 apparent ; we must not too finely trace 
 the outward qualities to their radical re- 
 cesses in the heart, nor pretend to say any
 
 262 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 
 
 thing of the soul, that sacred and immor- 
 tal thing, which spurns at the judgments 
 of men, while it trembles before those of 
 God. 
 
 On this subject, my brethren, it is 
 scarcely possible to avoid touching on a 
 point which has occasioned more want of 
 charity than perhaps any other in the 
 world ; I mean religious dissentions. And 
 yet it is strange, that religious men should 
 split upon this rock, when they are ex- 
 pressly told, that " charity is the end of the 
 commandment" This malignant spirit is 
 supported by a sort of reasoning, which, 
 at first sight, seems abundantly conclu- 
 sive, but which, if it were just, would be 
 exactly the strongest thing that could be 
 urged against religion, since nothing can 
 bring religion into so much discredit, with 
 men of good sense and good hearts, as 
 the dark and gloomy spirit which some- 
 times seems to inspire its adherents. The
 
 OX HRISTIAN CHARITY. 263 
 
 sort of reasoning alluded to is this : 
 There are certain doctrines urged in scrip- 
 ture as necessary points of faith ; some 
 men retain these, and others lose sight of 
 them ; and the believers, accordingly, 
 think themselves entitled to reprobate 
 those who err from the true creed. But 
 this fearless kind of reasoning rests entire- 
 ly on the idea, that a point of faith is of 
 any consequence whatever, while it con- 
 tinues an empty speculation in the head, 
 without producing a due effect on the 
 heart and dispositions ; an idea the most 
 wild and extravagant. As if the Author 
 of our religion had any desire to make us 
 very skilful and knowing,, in respect to 
 the world of spirits, . and did not merely 
 inform us of those things, the knowledge 
 of which might render us better men. 
 Whatever points of faith, then, we may 
 have attained, let us never presume to 
 think ourselves above those to whom
 
 264 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 
 
 these things may yet be hidden, unless 
 we are conscious of some real improve- 
 ment in our lives, corresponding to the 
 faith which we have attained. On the 
 contrary, let "us rather confess, w r ith hu- 
 miliation, how little influence our faith 
 has upon our lives ; and, instead of being 
 ready to condemn those who differ in be- 
 lief from ourselves, let us rather fear, that, 
 at the great day of reckoning, we may be 
 found to have believed more, and yet to 
 have performed less. 
 
 The only objection which, as I con- 
 ceive, can be urged with any plausi- 
 bility against all this doctrine is, that 
 it tends to throw too great laxity into 
 our moral judgments, that it detracts 
 from the dignity of virtue, and may 
 loosen the foundations of faith. For it 
 may be said, that if we acquire a habit 
 of being gentle to the vices of others, we 
 shall certainly be more ready to pass but
 
 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 
 
 a slight censure on our own; and if we 
 do not pursue improper opinions with an 
 indignant zeal, we shall be too apt to 
 lose our ardour in the cause of religion. 
 
 Now, it must certainly be granted, that a 
 man may very possibly fall into an indolent 
 unconcern about all principle whatever ; 
 and that, in this state of mind, he may 
 conceive himself to be very charitably 
 disposed towards all the errors in human 
 conduct or opinion, when he is only very 
 indifferent about what men either think 
 or do. But this defect in moral prin- 
 ciple is not charity ; for that eminent 
 quality will always be found to exist in 
 the highest perfection in the minds of 
 those whose virtue is the most pure. 
 Such men do not shut their eyes on the 
 vices of others, or look on those vices 
 with indifference and unconcern. They 
 condemn the crime, but they spare the 
 criminal, and are very far from suppos-
 
 266 ON CHRISTIAN, CHA*ITY. 
 
 ing the worst motives, when better may 
 be suggested. It is, indeed, the steady 
 pursuit of virtue in their own conduct, 
 which prevents them from searching too 
 busily into the secrets of other mens 
 hearts : having a great enterprize to per- 
 form themselves, they have no time to 
 spare for those nice investigations. One 
 observation is undeniable, that he who 
 was the great pattern of human virtue, 
 and who perfectly understood all the pol- 
 luted sources of human conduct, was yet 
 more remarkable for the most indulgent 
 charity than perhaps for any one quality 
 whatever ; and if, in the whole course 
 of his conversation among men, he was 
 ever induced to utter so much as a harsh 
 expression, it was on those occasions on- 
 ly, when he was shocked with perceiving 
 a want of charity in otners. 
 
 Having stated, in this general way, 
 the reasonableness and excellence of unir
 
 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 267 
 
 versal charity, and the small ground 
 Which any man has to pass a severe judg- 
 ment on his neighbour in any one point 
 whatever, I proceed to enforce the prac- 
 tice of this virtue. And, first, it may 
 be enforced from the comfort and satis- 
 faction which it will naturally give to 
 the minds of those who cultivate it. 
 What can be a more desirable turn of 
 mind than to think the best we can of 
 every one with whom we have any con- 
 nection ; to have a satisfaction in dis- 
 covering his virtues; and to hope that 
 his vices are not radical and incurable ? 
 Such a disposition, while it is quite free 
 from the imputation of weakness and 
 want of discernment, is sufficient to keep 
 us always alert and cheerful, free from 
 morose and harsh opinions, on a good 
 footing with the world and with ourselves. 
 If we are disposed to look for it, much 
 virtue we shall undoubtedly find ; and.
 
 288 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 
 
 in general, the vices of men will appear 
 to be so intermingled with good qualities, 
 that we shall always find something pleas- 
 ing to relieve our minds amid the shades 
 of the darkest picture. On the contrary, 
 nothing can afford more discomfort to the 
 mind than the uncharitable passions, such 
 as suspicion, fear, and religious bigot- 
 try. 
 
 But, secondly, if we cannot be incit- 
 ed to a charitable disposition by the plea- 
 sure attending it in this life, let us be 
 stirred up to it by the apprehension of 
 the judgment to come, which is the ar- 
 gument of the text. " Judge not, that ye 
 be not judged" We shall have enough to 
 answer for at that awful period. Our 
 imperfect devotion ; our irregular lives ; 
 our constant attachment to the fashion 
 of this world, which passeth away, such 
 habitual deficiencies, with many other 
 particular sins, will then rise up against
 
 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 269 
 
 us, and can only be blotted out by the 
 merits of our Redeemer. Let us not 
 add to the shameful catalogue, dark and 
 malignant judgments concerning each 
 other; but, as we hope on that day to be 
 saved by love, let us now shew that we 
 have some feeling of the principle which 
 alone can then be our protection,
 
 SERMON XVIII. 
 
 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY, AS IT INFLUENCES 
 CONDUCT. 
 
 ST JOHN, xiii. 34. 
 
 " A new commandment I give unto you 9 that 
 ye love ene another? 
 
 IT may seem somewhat extraordinary 
 that this should be called a new com- 
 mandment, or that any revelation should 
 be requisite for the purpose of bringing 
 home to the human heart those princi- 
 ples upon which the love of mankind de- 
 pends. That the principles of piety can-
 
 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 271 
 
 not be well inculcated without some sort of 
 divine discipline, may appear sufficiently 
 plain; but nature, we may imagine, surely 
 leaves us at no loss respecting those af- 
 fections which ought to prevail between 
 man and man. The seeds of justice and 
 humanity are sown in our frame ; and 
 although we may very often be defective 
 in our practice of those virtues, yet we 
 can scarcely, it may be thought, remain 
 blind to their obligation. 
 
 It is this view which seems to have 
 misled several philosophical inquirers in 
 modern times, who, while they have en- 
 lightened the world with many excellent 
 observations on social duty, have not, 
 however, perceived that they are at all 
 indebted to Christianity for the princi- 
 ples upon which they proceed. Yet it 
 would be deserving their consideration, 
 whence it has happened that they are so 
 much better instructed in these particu-
 
 272 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 
 
 lars than the wise men of the heathen 
 world ; or why, among errors and ex- 
 travagancies of their own, they have yet 
 scarcely advanced one solid position, the 
 prototype of which is not to be found in 
 the Gospel ? 
 
 The peculiar advantage of the law of 
 Christian charity consists in the univer* 
 sality of its application. In the first 
 place, the whole system of fair and equi- 
 table dealing is comprehended in the 
 maxim, that we should do to others 
 whatsoever we would that they should 
 do to us. It is impossible that we should 
 ever injure a fellow-creature if this rule 
 were carefully observed. Considering 
 what, in his circumstances, we should 
 have a right to expect as our due, we 
 cannot but perceive the monstrous injus- 
 tice of refusing it to him. The observa- 
 tion of this maxim would at once banish 
 every thing like wrong out of the world ;
 
 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 273 
 
 and the whole conduct of mankind would 
 be regulated by principles of the strictest 
 justice. 
 
 In the second place, the maxim that 
 we should love our neighbour as our- 
 selves, carries us much farther. By this 
 we are not only prohibited from doing 
 wrong, or commanded to fill up the mea- 
 sure of equity, but we are excited to acts 
 of extensive beneficence. Our Saviour's 
 answer to the question, Who is my neigh- 
 bour? shews very plainly how far this 
 commandment reaches, and points out, 
 in the most touching manner, that wher- 
 ever we can find an opportunity of do- 
 ing good, there our neighbour is also to 
 be found. 
 
 The third maxim, which completes 
 this system of benevolence, carries us as 
 far as it is possible to go, and much far- 
 ther than men conceived their duty re- 
 quired before the gospel was introduced
 
 74 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITV. 
 
 into the world. " Ye have heard that it 
 hath been said, thou shalt love tliy neigh- 
 bour and hate thine enemy ; but I say un- 
 to you, love your enemies, bless them that 
 curse you, do good to them that hate you, 
 and pray for them which despitejully use you 
 and persecute you." In this rule of en- 
 lightened morality, we are taught to 
 overlook in some degree the distinctions 
 in the characters of men ; to disregard the 
 accidental variances and oppositions into 
 which we may happen to be thrown in 
 this world ; and, amidst all the vices and 
 follies which may be prevalent around 
 us, and amidst all the hostility which it 
 jna)/ be our lot to encounter, still to con- 
 template, with affectionate regard, that 
 common bond of human nature by which 
 
 / 
 
 every one man is united to every other. 
 It has been justly objected to some mo- 
 clern systems of benevolence, that while 
 they inculcate an unaccountable regard for
 
 OX CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 275 
 
 the interests of the human race in general, 
 and make that the only principle of action, 
 they in a great degree tend to extirpate all 
 those private feelings and affections by 
 which alone human society is maintained. 
 But while the charity inculcated in the 
 Gospel is as comprehensive as can be con- 
 ceived, it is by no means liable to this 
 objection. Every good affection 6f the 
 heart, love to parents, and benefactors, 
 and friends, is encouraged and promoted 
 by it. It is most assuredly our duty to 
 befriend virtue, and to oppose vice : while 
 we have enemies we must resist them, 
 nor can we avoid feeling the natural sen- 
 timents of resentment and indignation : 
 Christianity supersedes not any one of 
 those principles of our nature, though it 
 regulates, and restrains them all: it has 
 always protected, never unhinged the es- 
 tablished order of the world : the gene- 
 ral interests of mankind, it instructs us,
 
 2?6 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 
 
 are in higher hands than ours ; and every 
 man promotes them best while he keeps 
 the station in which Providence has pla- 
 ced him. Yet, amidst all this attention 
 to every private feeling natural to man, 
 amidst all its regard for the order, and 
 even for the prejudices of society, Chris- 
 tianity teaches us a still higher lesson ; 
 and leading us at times to forget that we 
 ourselves are actors in this busy and dis- 
 tracted scene, it lifts us to that serene 
 eminence from which we may contem- 
 plate all the conduct of man with the 
 temper and benevolence of heaven. It 
 is perhaps in our meditations alone that 
 we can reach those feelings of extensive 
 charity ; yet these meditations are not 
 without their influence on our practice, 
 and restore us to the intercourse of men, 
 with the wish and resolution to " love 
 much" " to suffer long" " and to hope all 
 things" 
 
 x
 
 ON CHRISTIAN CHARIT1T. 277 
 
 Such, my brethren, is a very faint ex 
 position of Christian charity, or of those 
 affections which our religion inculcates, 
 as due from man to man. The system 
 commonly prevalent in the world, it is 
 evident, is of a very different nature. Men 
 are, in general, very partial in their affec- 
 tions, indulgent to some, and quite inat- 
 tentive to the feelings of others ; few are 
 disposed to engage heartily and perseve- 
 ringly in the practice of beneficence ^ha- 
 treds and animosities, of the most irrecon- 
 cilable nature, frequently rising from the 
 most trivial causes, generally prevail ; and 
 it is difficult to find a person who will for 
 a monient allow himself to suspect, that, 
 in those differences, there is any possibi- 
 lity he may be in the wrong. 
 
 If men will examine themselves, they 
 will accordingly find, that there is very 
 wide scope for divine instruction in this 
 extensfVe branch of their clutv ; and sure,-
 
 278 OX CHRISTIAN CHARITY". 
 
 ly, to listen to such instruction ought to 
 be an employment of the greatest pleasure 
 and delight. What more delightful, than 
 to feel that we may live in love and har- 
 mony with our brethren ; that there is no 
 insuperable bar dividing the hearts of men 
 from each other ; and that there are cer- 
 tain plain rules, which, if impressed upon 
 every individual, would infallibly convert 
 the world into a region of love and hap- 
 piness ? 
 
 But, perhaps, you complain of the in- 
 gratitude of mankind, and say, that al- 
 though you were to love them, they will- 
 not love you in return. You will say, 
 perhaps, that in early youth, you gave 
 way to the kindly emotions of your na- 
 ture ; that you saw little vice in the world, 
 and expected much friendship ; you were 
 suspicious of none, and kind to all ; but 
 experience has taught you another lesson; 
 
 you have met with much deceit, and 
 
 t
 
 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 27.9 
 
 much ingratitude : in spite of your feel- 
 ings, your heart has been contracted, and 
 you now find it wisdom to be as regard- 
 less of others, as they have been of you. 
 This, my brethren, is a complaint which 
 is not unfrequently made ; but I suspect 
 not often with much foundation. They 
 who complain so much of the ingratitude 
 of mankind, have seldom been hearty in 
 their service. They fix upon a few in- 
 stances of disappointment in their expec- 
 tations, and these they magnify beyond 
 all measure. The world is bad enough ; 
 but it contains much gratitude. There 
 probably never was any man who sincere- 
 ly engaged in the service of mankind, 
 without receiving testimonies of gratitude, 
 which have overwhelmed his heart. 
 
 * Reflections of this nature are parti- 
 cularly incumbent upon those who are 
 
 * Preached before the Communion,
 
 280 OX CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 
 
 about to kneel down at the altar of Christ. 
 As his example is the great model of all 
 virtue, so is it in nothing more conspi- 
 cuous than in the purest love to mankind ; 
 and the service in which some of us ar 
 now to be engaged, is the commemora- 
 tion of the most signal instance of that 
 
 love. We are going to stand at the foot 
 
 
 
 of his cross, to behold the sufferings which 
 he endured for our sake, and to partake 
 in the benefit of his body and blood. Can 
 we, my brethren, approach to this holy 
 service, and retain in our hearts any ma- 
 lice to any one of the human race ? Shall 
 we not here, if anywhere, forgive our bre- 
 thren their trespasses, when we behold the 
 pledge that ours have been forgiven ? 
 Shall we complain of the ingratitude of 
 men,' when we hear our Lord praying for 
 his enemies in the midst of his agony, and 
 saying, " Father, forgive them, for the?/ 
 know not what they do " Or, shall we not
 
 ON CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 281 
 
 be prompted to perform all the good with- 
 in our limited power, when we are con- 
 templating that beneficence which em- 
 braced a world ?
 
 SERMON XIX. 
 
 THE LESSONS TO BE LEARNED FROM THt 
 AFFLICTIONS OF LIFE. 
 
 ECCLESIASTES, vii. 2. 
 
 " It is better to go to the house of mourning, 
 than to the house of feasting ; for that is 
 the end of all men, and the living will lay 
 it to his heart" 
 
 i\lEN of an irreligious turn of mind fre- 
 quently raise objections against the good- 
 ness of God, from the multiplicity of evils 
 and distresses with which human life a- 
 bounds. Men of piety, on the contrary, 
 behold, in this very circumstance, some
 
 ON THE AFFLICTIONS OF LIFE. 283 
 
 of the most conspicuous proofs of a watch- 
 ful and kind providence; and from the 
 bosom of grief and wretchedness, they de- 
 rive their strongest hopes and firmest re- 
 liance on the protection of their heavenly 
 Father. Nothing, indeed, can be more 
 certain, than that the heart of man fre- 
 quently requires to be corrected ; that 
 when every thing in this world proceeds 
 in an even and prosperous course, then 
 the heart is most infirm, and most liable 
 to sink under temptation; and that, in 
 these circumstances, the bitter potion of 
 adversity is by far the most salutary me- 
 dicine which can be administered for its 
 cure. 
 
 While, therefore, in such afflicting dis- 
 pensations, men of profane minds see no- 
 thing but the cruel hand of a blind and 
 undistinguishing fatality, those who are 
 influenced by the sentiments of religion 
 perceive, on those occasions, most clearly
 
 284 ON THE AFFLICTIONS OF LIFE. 
 
 the kind interference of the physician of 
 their souls ; and if they have lost sight of 
 him in their hours of gaiety and pleasure, 
 are sure again to hecome conscious of his 
 visitations in the season of perplexity and 
 trouble. 
 
 But although the evils incident to man 
 might thus be shown to be a most neces- 
 sary part of the divine dispensations, it is, 
 at the same time, to be remarked, that, 
 although very various and greatly multi- 
 plied, they yet by no means constitute 
 the leading features of human life ; even 
 in this imperfect condition, in this lower 
 stage, of our existence, ease and tranquil- 
 lity are the portion of mankind in gene- 
 ral ; and if some are more peculiarly 
 marked out for misery, while it is in their 
 power to profit by their troubles, and " to 
 come forth like gold when they are tried" 
 others may derive great instruction, from 
 merely contemplating their distresses,
 
 ON THE AFFLICTIONS OF LIFE. 283 
 
 This milder discipline, this acquaintance 
 with human misery, which is to be learn- 
 ed from observing it in other men, this 
 method of acquiring wisdom, which may 
 often obviate the necessity for our being 
 subjected by providence to any very se- 
 vere chastisements in our own persons, is 
 recommended to all men by Solomon in 
 the text ; and he enforces it by a compa- 
 rison, which must universally be felt, be- 
 cause it appeals immediately to the ruling 
 propensities of our nature. We all love 
 pleasure, mirth, and gaiety ; love to have 
 our hearts lightened, our cares cast aside; 
 to have no fears for the future, no melan- 
 choly recollections of the past ; and to 
 grasp the fleeting enjoyments of the pre- 
 sent moment. All men, in a word, love 
 to frequent what the wise man calls the 
 " house of feasting :" now, to show in a 
 striking manner the advantages to be de- 
 rived from an acquaintance with human
 
 286 ON-THE AFFLICTIONS OF LIFE. 
 
 misery, he declares, that " it is better to go 
 to the house of mourning" 
 
 It is apparent, indeed, at the first view, 
 that the " house of mourning" is a school 
 of'serious thought and reflection ; a school 
 too, which at all times stands open for 
 our reception, and in which we may 
 learn our lessons without cost or pains. 
 In " the house of feasting" we evidently do 
 not learn to think, but rather have our 
 thoughts lost and dissipated ; and, while 
 we gain nothing substantial there, we are 
 often betrayed into the forfeiture of our 
 respectability and our virtue. I do not, 
 however, propose at present to continue 
 this comparison ; it will be more useful to 
 consider with attention, a few of the lessons 
 with which the house of mourning may 
 supply us, and to which the words of the 
 text particularly direct our thoughts. 
 
 We are desired to go to " the house 
 of mourning j for that is the end of all men.
 
 ON THE AFFLICTIONS OF LIFE. 
 
 and the living will lay it to his heart" 
 In these words, I conceive three things 
 to be either implied or expressed. The 
 advice, that we should " go to the house of 
 mourning" supposes that we shall sympa- 
 thize with the sufferings of those who 
 mourn. " For that is the end of all men? 
 is a sentiment expressive of pity and love 
 to mankind. " And the living will lay it 
 to his heart." These jyords infer religious 
 wisdom as the great improvement to be 
 made from all the scenes of human mi- 
 sery. Sympathy, charity, and religion, 
 are therefore the three most important 
 lessons to be learnt in the house of mourn- 
 ing, and, who ever learns these, will be 
 fully instructed in the whole duty of man. 
 The house of mourning, then, is the 
 school of Sympathy. This disposition is 
 natural to man, and is the most lovely 
 part of our nature. But in.no particular 
 are our hearts more liable to be corrupted
 
 288 ON THE AFFLICTIONS OF LIFE. 
 
 and vitiated ; as we proceed in the world, 
 our affections are ever prone to be con- 
 centrated upon ourselves, and selfishness, 
 that most fatal depravation of our nature> 
 is at all times too ready to seize upon us. 
 We are encouraged in it by many cir- 
 cumstances. Sometimes pride, or a high 
 opinion of ourselves, renders us indifferent 
 to the feelings of others ; sometimes the 
 pursuit of pleasure -subjects all our affec- 
 tions to our own paltry gratifications ; or 
 the cares and business of the world oc- 
 cupy all our thoughts, and leave us no 
 room for considering the desires and 
 wishes of our brethren : or, finally, mere 
 indolence may often indispose us from 
 giving that attention to the concerns of 
 other men, which may bring trouble and 
 uneasiness to ourselves. 
 
 To put a stop to the course of this de- 
 pravity, nothing can be more effectual 
 than going to the house of mourning,
 
 ON THE AFFLICTIONS OF LIFE. 289 
 
 than beholding the sufferings of our fel- 
 low-creatures, and permitting our hearts 
 to be penetrated by the natural/ senti- 
 ments of humanity. It is owing to our 
 ignorance, or our forgetfulness of the dis- 
 tresses which every where surround us, 
 that we are rendered so indifferent as we 
 often are to the feelings of each other, 
 and wrap ourselves up in thoughtless in- 
 sensibility. If we would inquire into 
 them with diligence, and look at them 
 with our own eyes, it is impossible but 
 that our hearts must be affected, and that 
 we must feel as it becomes men. There 
 is no need, to be sure, for a weak and 
 sickly sensibility ; that disposition is more 
 frequently employed in finding out food 
 
 for the fancv, than in mending the heart. 
 
 / * 
 
 But a luxurious indulgence of the softer 
 feelings, is never produced by the sight 
 of real misery. The sympathy which is 
 drawn out by real suffering, is always ao 
 
 T
 
 290 OK THE AFFLICTION'S OF LIFE. 
 
 companied by a sense of duties to be per- 
 formed ; it never stagnates in the breast 
 idly inactive, but flows out in beneficent 
 exertions. 
 
 In the second place : The house of 
 mourning is the great school of charity, 
 or of that love to our fellow-creatures 
 which overlooks all distinctions, and views 
 them in. the single and endearing aspect 
 of men and brethren. " For that is the 
 end of all men" These striking words 
 level all disparities, and place every hu- 
 man being on a footing of equality. We 
 are all weak, frail, mortal creatures : here 
 is our point of union, in whatever else we 
 may differ, One man is rich, and another 
 is poor ; one man sways the . rod of em- 
 pire, and another drags out his life in ab- 
 ject slavery ; The mind of one glows with 
 enlightened views and liberal attainments, 
 while dulness and stupidity cloud the ap- 
 prehensions of another. Farther still ; one
 
 ON THE AFFLTCTIOXS OF LIFE. 29 I 
 
 man is virtuous, and another is wicked ; 
 one bends before the throne of God, and 
 acknowledges the power that made him, 
 while another pursues his depraved incli- 
 nations, and thinks not of the account 
 which he must render to his Judge. Such 
 are the distinctions which prevail in the 
 world ; and men become elated with such 
 distinctions, and grow vain in their own 
 conceits, " and their foolish hearts arc 
 darkened" In consequence of these disor- 
 derly thoughts, want of charity prevails ; 
 men lose sight of the common tie which 
 binds them together ; and one half of the 
 world looks down upon the other, as un- 
 worthy its notice and regard. 
 
 Hast thou lost sight of that common 
 tie ? Go then to the " house of mourning," 
 and be no longer a fool. Those distinc- 
 tions which excite thy pride, and lead 
 thee to despise thy neighbour, what are 
 they ? They may serve thee to boast of
 
 292 O# THE AFFLICTION? OF LIFE. 
 
 through a short and fleeting life; but wil\ 
 they save thee from the common destiny, 
 which marks thee out a frail and perish- 
 ing creature ? In " the house of mourning" 
 thou wilt see that circumstance in which 
 all men are assimilated; the bond of weak- 
 ness and misery by which all are con- 
 nected. Thy wealth, thy power, thy abi- 
 lities, even thy virtue, and thy religion, 
 are all subjected to the frailty of thy mor- 
 tal state; an uncertain and preparious 
 existence enters equally into the descrip- 
 tion of every man, and in this affecting 
 circumstance we may see 'the true foun- 
 dation of brotherly union and love. 
 
 I proceed, in the third place, to shew, 
 that, in the house of mourning, we learn 
 the best lessons of religious wisdom ; 
 "for that is the end of all men, and the liv- 
 ing will lay it to his heart" Why should 
 he lay it to his heart, unless there were 
 something beyond this " end of all men '*
 
 05T THE AFFLICTIONS OF LIFE. 293 
 
 If the curtain closed in the house of 
 mourning for ever, it would be better 
 to drive away from our hearts than to 
 lay to them, a reflection which would 
 only be melancholy, and could be pro- 
 ductive of no good ; and, according- 
 ly, such is the use which some men of 
 the gayer sort have made, from con- 
 templating the house of mourning. They 
 have drawn from the consideration of the' 
 shortness of life, arguments for the freer 
 enjoyment of it while it lasts : " Let us 
 eat and drink, (they say) for to-morrow we 
 die." But this is vanity and delusion, and 
 is never the voice of nature. The na- 
 tural effect of the house of mourning is 
 to throw us into sober reflection ; to call 
 back our scattered thoughts ; to make us 
 feel our present weakness ; and to turn 
 our eyes with serious apprehension to the 
 awful events of futurity.
 
 ON THE AFFLICTIONS OF LIFE. 
 
 Two impressions particularly favour- 
 able to religion, humility and hope, are 
 forced upon the mind on such occasions. 
 When we contemplate some striking in- 
 stance of " the end of ali men" is it possi- 
 ble not to be impressed with a sense of 
 our littleness, and of our entire depen- 
 dance on the Almighty hand, by which 
 we are raised or brought low ? When 
 power, or genius, or worth, submit to the 
 common fate, and are swept from the 
 earth, do we not immediately exclaim, 
 What is man ! and perceive but one Being 
 whose operations are without controul ? 
 Must we not then be convinced, that all 
 the occupations and concerns of human 
 life carry in them an admixture of vanity, 
 and that those circumstances on which 
 we ground our self-consequence, are really 
 futile and insignificant ? We shall, ac- 
 cordingly, feel humiliated and astonished 
 at ourselves, and shall bend beneath the
 
 OX THE AFFLICTIONS OF LIFE. 95 
 
 fear of him who is the arbiter of our eter- 
 nal destiny. 
 
 It is very apparent, then, in what man- 
 ner humility and religious awe arise from 
 the contemplation of human misery. That 
 religious hope should flow from the same 
 source, may not be so easily explicable ; 
 yet I believe nothing is more true, and 
 that celestial stream which bends its 
 course into the regions of light, and wa- 
 ters the tree of life in the midst of the 
 garden of God, rises in its greatest purity 
 from the deep abysses of affliction. When 
 every thing around us appears dark and 
 cheerless ; when all the world, with the 
 whole race of man, seems a vain, fleeting, 
 and disorderly scene ; then it is that the 
 light from above breaks through the 
 clouds which envelope our souls. The 
 suggestions of nature, arid the boldness of 
 faith, are supported by reason. When we 
 behold man brought low, and his beauty
 
 296 Otf THE AFFLICTIONS OF LIFE. 
 
 laid in the dust, we cannot reasonably 
 think that the great Parent has deserted 
 his offspring for ever; and the greater 
 his fall, and more complete his apparent 
 degradation, the more reason, perhaps, 
 have we to look for some splendid change 
 from the wonder-working hand of Pro- 
 vidence. 
 
 Such are the suggestions of religion on 
 the view of any of the great calamities to 
 which man is subject, particularly in the 
 contemplation of death ; and here, in- 
 deed, is the triumph of Religion! This 
 is the province peculiarly subject to her 
 command, and in which she moves with 
 the dignity of a sovereign. In the heat 
 and hurry of the world; amid its business, 
 its intrigues, and its pleasures ; she may 
 lift her voice, but it will not be heard. 
 She will fly from the pride and the in- 
 genuity of the sophist; she will avoid the 
 questions and perplexities of the divine ;
 
 ON THE AFFLICTIONS OF LIFE. 297 
 
 and her simplicity may too often be lost 
 or obscured in the ambitious eloquence of 
 the preacher. But " go to the house of 
 mourning t " and there you will find her 
 active and employed. In those secret 
 retreats of sorrow, you may still hear the 
 gentle but authoritative voice of Him who 
 was acquainted with grief: " Why make 
 ye all this ado and weep, the damsel is not 
 dead, but sleepeth." 
 
 Enough has been said, my brethren, 
 to justify the assertion, that the house of 
 mourning is the best school which we can 
 frequent, if we wish our hearts to be really 
 improved, and to learn our duty either 
 to God or man. Our duty to man we 
 shall find to consist in kind attentions and 
 brotherly love, which surely the view of 
 his sufferings is of all things the best 
 adapted to call forth. And how can we bet- 
 ter learn our duty to God, than in contem- 
 plating the striking instances of his power
 
 ON THE AFFLICTIONS OF LIFE. 
 
 exhibited in the fate of man, and in lift- 
 ing our thoughts to those higher views 
 which open amid the shades of death? 
 How can we better learn that humble 
 acquiescence in his providence, which 
 becomes our frail and feeble condition ; 
 or the necessity for that obedience to his 
 will, by which alone our hope and faith 
 can be invigorated and confirmed !
 
 -hit 
 
 SERMON XX. 
 
 OX RELIGIOUS COXSOLATIOX IX AFFLICTION, 
 
 EXEMPLIFIED ix THE CASE OF THE DEATH 
 
 i)F CHILDREX. 
 
 MATTHEW, ii. 18. 
 
 " In Rama was there a voice heard, lamen- 
 tation, and weeping, and great mourning ; 
 Rachel weeping for her children, and 
 would not be comforted, because they are 
 not." 
 
 1 HESE words, my brethren, of the Pro- 
 phet Jeremiah, are applied, as you know, 
 by the holy Evangelist, to that very ex- 
 traordinary and horrible incident which
 
 300 ON RELIGIOUS CONSOLATION 
 
 he relates in this chapter : the massacre 
 of the young children, perpetrated by 
 Herod, in the hope that the infant king' 
 of the Jews would thus be sacrificed to 
 his jealous fury. In this expectation he 
 was disappointed by the overruling hand 
 of Providence ; and we, who in a distant 
 age and country, meet at this day for the 
 purposes of religion, in the name of the 
 Child who was then spared, know, I trust, 
 in what manner to value and to adore 
 that watchful goodness, which, while it 
 permitted the hearts of the mothers of 
 Bethlehem to bleed, was yet laying firm, 
 for all future generations of men, the 
 foundation of their happiness and their 
 hopes. To such extensive views of di- 
 vine Providence, it is the delight of reli- 
 gion to conduct the serious mind, and to 
 clothe, with a mantle of celestial light, 
 the most melancholy appearances which 
 this lower world exhibits. In the first in-
 
 IN AFFLICTION. 301 
 
 stance, indeed, nature fixes our thoughts 
 on the appearances alone ; and when, as 
 in the incident before us, we read of the 
 mandate which the tyrant " sent forth t& 
 slay all the children that were in Bethlehem, 
 and in all the coasts thereof, from two years 
 old and under," we can, for a time, listen 
 to no voice, except that which long be- 
 fore had resounded in the ears of the pro- 
 phet, " the voice of lamentation, and weep- 
 ing, and great mourning ; Rachel weeping 
 for her children, and refusing to be com- 
 forted." 
 
 In* the hour in which I speak, my bre- 
 thren, such a voice, I fear, is but too fre- 
 quent in the houses of our city ; and many 
 a tear is now falling from the eyes of pa- 
 rents over the lifeless remains of infant in- 
 nocence and beauty. The same God, 
 who, on one memorable occasion, permit- 
 
 * February, 1808 ; \vhcn the disease of the Measles was 
 fatally prevalent.
 
 302 ON RELIGIOUS CONSOLATION 
 
 ted a bloody tyrant to be the minister of 
 his inscrutable designs, in the destruction 
 of holy innocents, more frequently sends 
 disease among the young of his people ; 
 and, year after year, as at the present 
 hour, many a spotless soul returns to him, 
 untried by the dangers, and unpolluted 
 by the sins of that earthly course on which 
 it had begun to enter. It is an hour in 
 which even Religion must for a time be 
 still, and listen, with sacred respect, to the 
 voice of nature, which, even in its exces- 
 ses of " lamentation, and ivceping, and great 
 mourning" is yet the voice of God in the 
 human heart. When she may speak, 
 however, Religion can utter the words of 
 consolation ; and it is her office to seize 
 upon those hours when the hearts of some 
 are broken with affliction, and when many 
 are trembling with apprehension, and to 
 press those lessons of wisdom, which
 
 IN AFFLICTION. 303 
 
 heard too often with indifference, in the 
 pride and the gaiety of common life. 
 
 The sentiment expressed in the text, 
 my brethren, accords with the feelings of 
 human nature. The death of vounff chil- 
 
 \j ^J 
 
 dren excites, perhaps, more " lamentation 
 and great mourning" than any other inci- 
 dent in the course of mortality. To those 
 who are not parents, a dispensation of this 
 kind may seem, perhaps, of a much less 
 
 afflicting nature than rnanv others. A 
 
 j 
 
 child is but an insignificant object in the 
 eye of the world, and seems but a trifling 
 loss to society. To a parent, however, 
 those very circumstances, which render 
 his child of little value to others, are the 
 most attractive. It is his delight to retire 
 from the serious cares and busy occupa- 
 tions of men into the unanxious scenes of 
 childish playfulness; to repose his thoughts 
 upon some countenances on which the 
 world has left no traces of care, and vice
 
 304 ON RELIGIOUS CONSOLATION 
 
 has impressed no marks of disorder ; and 
 to find within his own house, and sprung 
 from his own loins, some forms which re- 
 cal the image of primaeval innocence, and 
 anticipate the society of heaven. When 
 these innocent beings are torn from us, 
 we suffer a calamity with which a stran- 
 ger, indeed, will imperfectly sympathise, 
 but of which the heart knoweth the bit- 
 terness ; and the sorrow may only be the 
 deeper, and more heartfelt, that it must 
 be disguised and smothered from an un- 
 pitying world. 
 
 The death of a young person, advanced 
 to years of maturity, occasions a general 
 sympathy. The grief of parents is then 
 at once 'felt and understood. When ta- 
 lents, which gave the promise of future 
 distinction, , and virtues, to which the de- 
 clining years of a parent clung for sup- 
 port, are torn from the domestic circle 
 which they blessed and adorned, there are
 
 IN AFFLICTION. 505 
 
 few hearts so much closed to a fellow- 
 feeling with human calamity, as not to be 
 powerfully affected with such circum- 
 stances of deep distress. But this very 
 sympathy of mankind is a source of con- 
 solation which alleviates the affliction by 
 which it is occasioned. The sorrow ex- 
 cited by the death of a young child may 
 often be as acute, but it is attended with 
 much less sympathy. Here, too, parents 
 have formed hopes which are only, per- 
 haps, the greater and more unbounded,, 
 inasmuch as the foundation on which 
 they rest is less certain and definite. 
 These hopes are frustrated for ver ; their 
 child is as if he had never been ; even his 
 memory has disappeared from every heart 
 but their own ; and they cherish it with 
 the deeper feeling, that there is no other 
 breast in which it dwells. 
 
 To such sorrows of the heart, my bre- 
 thren, it is the office of Religion to apply 
 
 u
 
 306 ON RELIGIOUS CONSOLATION 
 
 ' 
 
 the words of consolation ; and when the 
 first tumults of grief are at an end, to in- 
 spire the soul of the mourner with loftier 
 sentiments. She suggests, in the first 
 place, that, in the kingdom of God, there 
 is no loss of existence ; that the hand of 
 infinite wisdom changes, indeed, the 
 sphere of action in which the rational 
 soul is destined to move, but never de- 
 prives it of the being which the hand of 
 beneficence bestowed. She points to a 
 higher world, in which the inhabitants are 
 " as little children ;" and she hesitates not 
 to affirm, that the soul of infant innocence 
 finds its way to that region of purity, the 
 air of which it seemed to breathe while 
 yet below. She speaks here with a voice 
 of confidence which may sometimes fail 
 to be inspired, even from the contempla- 
 tion of a long life spent in the practice of 
 virtue. The best men have contracted 
 many failings in the course of their earth-
 
 IN AFFLICTION. 307 
 
 ly trial ; and when we commit their bo- 
 dies to the dust, while Religion calls upon 
 us to look forward to their final destiny 
 with holy hope, she yet permits some 
 foreboding fears to cloud the brightness 
 of the prospect. In less favourable cases, 
 all we can do is to withdraw our minds 
 from the vices of the departed, and rather 
 to fix them, with apprehension and pur- 
 poses of amendment, upon our own ; to 
 raise our thoughts, at the same time, to 
 the perfect goodness of God, which seeth 
 the secret springs of the heart, and judges 
 not as man judges ; which will forgive 
 whatever can be forgiven, and which hath 
 no pleasure in the death of the wicked. 
 But when we follow to the grave the body 
 of untried innocence, we at the same time 
 restore to the Father of spirits the soul 
 which he gave, yet unpolluted by the 
 vices of time, and still an inmate meet for 
 eternity. When the tears of nature are
 
 508 ON RELIGIOUS CONSOLATION 
 
 over, faith may here look up with an 
 unclouded eye, and see that Saviour, 
 whose descent upon earth cost so many 
 tears to the mothers of Bethlehem, now 
 speaking comfort to the mothers of Dis- 
 people, and telling them, that he who 
 here below " suffered little children to come 
 unto him" still delights to throw around 
 them the arms of his love, when, like 
 him, they have burst the bonds of mor- 
 tality. 
 
 Besides this lofty source of consolation 
 which Religion opens up to afflicted pa- 
 rents, she, in the second place, suggests 
 to them some of the wise purposes 
 which Providence may have in view in 
 this afflicting dispensation. Althoughr 
 the ways of Heaven are confessedly dark, 
 and although we must, in many instan- 
 ces, bow down in resignation, without 
 pretending to examine them, it is yet 
 more pleasing when we can discover
 
 IN AFFLICTION. 309 
 
 Some of the designs which may be intend- 
 ed, and we are thus more easily recon- 
 ciled to the evils which may accompany 
 the execution of them. In the death of 
 children, Providence seems, on a hasty 
 glance, to be acting in a manner contra- 
 dictory to its own plan ; to be destroying 
 life ere it is well begun ; to be depriving 
 us of blessings which we can scarcely be 
 said to have tasted ; and while with one 
 hand it gives, with another to be taking 
 away. Let it however be considered, 
 that it answers an important purpose in 
 the government of the w r orld, to keep 
 men in mind of the constant sovereignty 
 of God, and of his right to the entire dis- 
 posal of the fate of his creatures. Let it 
 farther be recollected, that we are prone 
 to forget the hand from which our bles- 
 sings flow, and that too often we do not 
 discern its agency till these blessings are 
 withdrawn. It is thus not an unpleasing
 
 310 ON RELIGIOUS CONSOLATION 
 
 aspect of the ways of Providence, to con- 
 sider the death of a child as an interpo- 
 sition of God, by which he awakens the 
 slumbering piety of the parent, and, by 
 depriving him of the object of his mortal 
 affections, leads his thoughts to immor- 
 tality. 
 
 We are all well aware, my brethren, 
 of the influence of the world : we know 
 how strongly it engages our thoughts, and 
 debases the springs of our actions : we 
 all know how important it is to have the 
 spirits of our minds renewed, and the 
 rust which gathers over them cleared a- 
 way. One of the principal advantages, 
 perhaps, which arises from the possession 
 of children, is, that in their society the 
 simplicity of our nature is constantly re- 
 called to our view ; and that, when we 
 return from the cares and thoughts of 
 the world into our domestic circle, we 
 behold beings whose happiness springs
 
 IN AFFLICTION. 311 
 
 from no false estimates of worldly good, 
 but from the benevolent instincts of na- 
 ture. The same moral advantage is often 
 derived, in a greater degree, from the me- 
 mory of those children who have left us. 
 Their simple characters dwell upon our 
 minds with a deeper impression ; their 
 least actions return to our thoughts with 
 more force than if we had it still in our 
 power to witness them ; and they return 
 to us clothed in that saintly garb which 
 belongs to the possessors of a higher ex- 
 istence. We feel that there is now a 
 link connecting us with a purer and a 
 better scene of being ; that a part of our- 
 selves has gone before us into the bosom 
 of God ; and that the same happy crea- 
 ture which here on earth shewed us the 
 simple sources from which happiness 
 springs, now hovers over us, and scatters 
 from its wings the graces and beatitudes 
 of eternity.
 
 312 ON RELIGIOUS CONSOLATION 
 
 To you, then, my brethren, who have 
 suffered from the present visitation of 
 Providence, Religion thus unfolds the 
 sources of consolation and of improvement. 
 She calls upon you not to mourn as those 
 who have no hope ; to give the children 
 of whom you have been deprived into 
 the hands of your and their Father ; and 
 when the first pangs of affliction are 
 over, to lift up your thoughts with that 
 faith toward him, which may at last en- 
 able you to meet them in his presence 
 for ever. Yet while she calls you not 
 to mourn, she does not ask you to forget. 
 This perhaps may be the language of the 
 world. The loftier language of religion 
 is, that you should remember whatever 
 may contribute to your purity and vir- 
 tue ; that you should sometimes medi- 
 tate with holy emotion on those angel 
 forms which are gone before you ; and 
 that, amidst the temptations of the world,
 
 IN AFFLICTION. 313 
 
 you should call to mind, that their eyes 
 are now impending over you, arid feel 
 the additional link which binds you to 
 the higher destinations of your being. 
 
 To us, my brethren, over whose houses 
 the Angel of death may now have pas- 
 sed, let not the scene which we have 
 witnessed be unaccompanied with in- 
 struction. While we fall down in gra- 
 titude before Heaven for the deliverance 
 which w r e have hitherto experienced, let 
 us confess that it is undeserved ; that we 
 have not, as we ought, blessed the giver 
 of all our good ; and let us henceforth re- 
 solve to have his goodness more constant- 
 ly in our thoughts. Let us sympathize 
 with our brethren in affliction, and feel 
 that their sorrow may soon be ours. 
 Above all, let us make it our firm reso- 
 lution, to train up those children whom 
 pod may have spared to us, in the know- 
 ledge of him and of his laws, that at
 
 314 ON RELIGIOUS CONSOLATION, &C. 
 
 whatever hour of their future life the call 
 may come, they may be found of him in 
 peace, and that we too may, with them, 
 glorify him in heaven.
 
 SERMON XXL 
 
 OX RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 
 
 PROV. xxii. 6. 
 
 " Train up a child in the way he should 
 go, and when he is old he will not depart 
 from it." 
 
 IN these words, my brethren, the wise 
 man points out powerfully the effects of 
 early education. As the mind is very 
 liable to the influence of habit, it is a hap- 
 py circumstance that it can acquire good 
 habits as well as bad, and that the infant 
 heart can be moulded to the love of vir-
 
 316 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 
 
 tue, no less surely than it may be misled 
 into vice and disorder. This is a consi- 
 deration which affords both a pleasing 
 view of human nature, and is of the ut- 
 most importance in a practicai light. It 
 is farther a consideration which imposes 
 a most forcible obligation on parents and 
 instructors. It suggests to them, that to 
 their hands the fate of the rising genera- 
 tion is in a great degree committed ; that 
 they must in no small extent be respon- 
 sible for the future deviations of the chil- 
 dren entrusted to their care ; and that, 
 if they would have these children walk in 
 the way in which they should go, the 
 attainment of this invaluable object is in 
 a great measure left to themselves. 
 
 The importance of education in sup- 
 plying the mind with intellectual acqui- 
 sitions, or in adorning it with accomplish- 
 ments, is very generally acknowledged 
 and understood; and perhaps the pre-
 
 OX RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 317 
 
 sent age is in no respect more distinguish- 
 ed from those which have preceded it, 
 than for the systematic attention with 
 which these ends are pursued. The ef- 
 fects have corresponded with the applica- 
 tion hestowed in producing them ; and 
 the general prevalence of liberal thought 
 and refinement of manners in our day, 
 affords a striking contrast to the more 
 contracted opinions and grosser habits of 
 " our fathers, and of the old time before 
 them." That we have been equally at- 
 tentive to the more important objects of 
 moral and religious instruction, I will not 
 take upon me to affirm : I fear, on the 
 contrary, we are too often in the habit 
 of permitting the minds of our children 
 to fall under the dominion of accidental 
 impressions on those great subjects, on 
 which their views and feelings ought to 
 be most precise ; and, while we omit no 
 pains in improving their powers, or ad
 
 318 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 
 
 ding to their accomplishments, we too 
 frequently throw out of" the account that 
 higher wisdom, which may prepare them 
 to be virtuous here, and heirs of eternity 
 hereafter. This most necessary branch 
 of education, my brethren, it is the duty 
 of this place to recommend ; and I am 
 naturally led into these reflections by the 
 return of the present season *, in which 
 the young of our congregation are brought 
 here to shew their acquaintance with 
 that simple form of Christian instruction 
 compiled by some of the greatest fathers 
 of our church, who, while they were 
 employing their mighty powers in shak- 
 ing the pillars of Romish superstition, 
 could yet find opportunity, like the mas- 
 ter whom they served, to " suffer little- 
 children to come unto them'' 
 
 .>) ,-.-??ifo j-jriLM -i/,?s ">;/ 'il-m 
 * Season of Lent.
 
 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 319 
 
 The catechism which is commonly 
 taught in this church contains a short 
 and beautiful compend of Christian faith 
 and duty ; and it is pleasing to know that 
 the young are regularly instructed in it. 
 The ministers of religion, however, have 
 perhaps little opportunity of knowing 
 more than the simple fact ; they cannot 
 judge accurately of the degree of weight 
 which the infant mind attaches to the 
 truths of which it is thus informed. It is 
 more properly the business of parents to 
 discover whether their children are really 
 making any progress in religious know- 
 ledge, and in impressions of duty ; and 
 little more, perhaps, can be done here, 
 than to enforce upon parents their obli- 
 gations of this nature, and to facilitate 
 the means by which they may carry these 
 obligations into effect. 
 
 With these views, my brethren, I pro- 
 pose to dedicate the present, and at least
 
 320 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 
 
 one other discourse, to some explanatory 
 observations on the church catechism, in 
 which, while I direct my thoughts chief- 
 ly to parents and instructors, I shall at 
 the same time endeavour to make myself 
 easily intelligible to the young themselves. 
 The first circumstance which presents 
 itself to us in openirtg this short summary 
 of religion, is the vow which was entered 
 into for the child before he was himself 
 capable of forming any conception of 
 the subject to which it related* The cir- 
 cumstance is striking and instructive. It 
 shews us, in the first place, that there 
 was no period of our existence in which 
 we were not under the eye and the cog- 
 nizance of religion ; that the spirit of our 
 Lord hovered over us while we were yet 
 in the cradle ; and that, when the waters 
 of baptism were poured upon our heads, 
 a solemn vow was made upon earth, and 
 recorded in heaven, that we should be-*
 
 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 321 
 
 come " members of Christ, and children 
 of God." It, secondly, reminds those, to 
 whom the care of the young is commit- 
 ted, of the strong obligation under which 
 they lie, to provide for their moral and 
 religious instruction. It reminds them, 
 that, besides the obligations of nature and 
 conscience, there is a particular and ex- 
 press vow entered into with God, which 
 it rests with them to see fulfilled ; and 
 that, when they neglect this important 
 duty, they are not only deaf to the voice 
 of the heart, and of moral reason, but are 
 provoking the wrath of an insulted Deity. 
 In the third place, the baptismal vow 
 reminds the young, that on some points 
 their minds are not left at perfect liberty; 
 that there is a sacred obligation upon 
 every human being, of which the vow 
 made at baptism is an external sign, to 
 direct his thoughts and actions to the best 
 ends ; and whatever they may afterwards 
 
 X
 
 322 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 
 
 be told of the native freedom and inde- 
 pendence of their minds, this vow calls to 
 their recollection, that they can never be 
 set free from the obligation of believing 
 what is true, and of doing what is right. 
 Instead, therefore, of that confident spirit 
 with which the young sometimes a^e 
 tempted to follow out their own untutor- 
 ed ways of thinking and acting, a .much 
 more humble and amiable spirit is insi- 
 nuated into their hearts in this form of 
 instruction ; and to the question, " Dost 
 thou not think that thou art bound to be- 
 lieve, and to do as has been promised for 
 thee r" they are taught to reply, " Yes, 
 verily ; and by God's help so I will. And 
 I heartily thank our heavenly Father, 
 that he hath called me to this state of sal- 
 vation, through Jesus Christ our Saviour. 
 And I pray unto God to give me his 
 grace, that I may continue in the same 
 onto my life's end."
 
 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 323 
 
 The second circumstance which is 
 brought before us relates to the particu- 
 lar engagements comprehended under the 
 baptismal vow. Three things, we are 
 told, are promised and vowed for children 
 in baptism. " First, that they should re- 
 nounce the devil and all his works ; the 
 pomps and vanity of this wicked world ; 
 and all the sinful lusts of the flesh. Se- 
 condly, that they should believe all the 
 articles of the Christian faith. And, third- 
 ly, that they should keep God's holy 
 will and commandments, and walk in 
 the same all the days of their lives." With 
 regard to the first of these considerations, 
 it may perhaps, at first sight, seem un- 
 wise to bring before the imaginations of 
 the young the existence of wickedness 
 which their own innocence does not na- 
 turally lead them to discover ; and cer- 
 tainly it would be unwise and pernicious 
 to present this fact to them in any form 
 which may have a tendency to cloud their
 
 324 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 
 
 I 
 
 imaginations, or to depress their spirits. 
 Such, however, is the condition of man in 
 this world, that it is probably impossible 
 to keep concealed, even from the mind of 
 a child, the existence of vice in some form 
 or other. In the language of scripture, 
 man has eaten of the tree of the know- 
 ledge of good and evil, and has thus sub- 
 jected himself to the necessity of being 
 warned to avoid evil, as well as of being 
 animated to pursue good. It is in fact, 
 therefore, one among many proofs of the 
 unsophisticated wisdom of ancient times, 
 that the compilers of the catechism have 
 touched, though very lightly and delicate- 
 ly, upon this melancholy circumstance in 
 the condition of human nature, and have 
 thought it incumbent upon them to warn 
 the young, even at the first dawn of rea- 
 ,son, against the malignity and infamy of 
 sin, no less than to elevate their views to 
 the lofty objects of faith and of duty.
 
 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 325 
 
 Secondly, it is engaged for the infant 
 at baptism, that he shall believe all the 
 articles of the Christian faith. In incul- 
 cating these upon the minds of children, 
 the method to be adopted seems very ad- 
 mirably pointed out in our catechism. To 
 the request, " Rehearse the articles of thy 
 belief?" the answer is simply the repetition 
 of that short form of " sound words" com- 
 monly known by the name of the Apostles' 
 Creed. This creed, you will observe, con- 
 tains nothing more than a bare statement 
 
 O 
 
 of facts, without any attempt being made 
 to deduce from them points of doc- 
 trine. Such, my brethren, seems to be 
 clearly the method in which children ought 
 to be trained in the truths of religion ; 
 and when this method is adopted, there 
 seems to be no such difficulty, as is some- 
 times apprehended, in giving them a com- 
 petent acquaintance with these invaluable 
 truths. Some ingenious men have con-
 
 326 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 
 
 ceived, that religion was a subject totally 
 beyond the reach of childhood, and that 
 it ought only to be brought before the 
 view of the human mind, when it has at- 
 tained its full powers of reason. Without 
 stating some very obvious objections t 
 this scheme, it may be sufficient to re- 
 mark, that it is certainly not the course 
 pointed out by nature. Parents, who 
 themselves possess religious sentiments, 
 are certainly prompted by nature to com* 
 municate these to their children ; and if 
 the voice of nature be listened to, it will 
 direct them likewise in the course which 
 they ought to take in doing so. 
 
 With respect to the first article of the 
 creed, for instance, the foundation of all 
 religion whatever, " I believe in God, 
 the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven 
 and earth" there are surely many simple 
 methods in which a wise instructor may 
 insinuate this great truth into the dawn-
 
 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 327 
 
 ing reason of childhood. Some occasions 
 must present themselves, in which the 
 mind of a child may be led to recognise 
 the traces of wisdom and benevolence in 
 nature, and may be taught to ascribe its 
 ipwn little pleasures and enjoyments to the 
 bounty of an unseen benefactor. The 
 great volume of creation is open to every 
 eye ; and, while it contains pages which 
 may exercise the highest powers of crea- 
 ted intelligence, it likewise abounds with 
 innumerable passages, in which even the 
 eye of childhood may discover the cha- 
 racter of its author. It is one of the im- 
 provements of modern education, that 
 means have been found to make children 
 soon acquainted with the simpler parts of 
 the economy of nature ; with the habits, 
 for instance, of the lower animals, and 
 with many of those natural productions 
 which minister to the pleasures and to the 
 uses of mankind. Is it not possible, in the
 
 328 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 
 
 midst of these lessons, to point out to the 
 child the secret finger of wisdom and 
 goodness ; and while his mind is gra- 
 dually opening to the reception of know- 
 ledge, at the same time to warm his little 
 heart with the first emotions of piety ? ,->* 
 The remaining articles of the Creed 
 relate to the facts of revelation, which, if 
 I am not mistaken, may be inculcated 
 upon young minds in an easy connection 
 with the natural sentiments of religion. 
 When a child is once informed of the 
 superintending care of a Father in hea- 
 ven, he will naturally be disposed to listen 
 to any information which can be given 
 him, concerning the dealings of this Al- 
 mighty Father with the children of men ; 
 and although, in the volume of the Scrip- 
 tures, there are many passages which are 
 very far beyond the comprehension of 
 children, and which, therefore, ought not 
 to be put into their hands, there are in-
 
 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 329 
 
 numerable others which almost seem to 
 Le written for the sake of children. Such 
 are some of the simple narratives in the 
 Old Testament; the history of Joseph 
 and his brethren; the early part of the 
 history of Moses ; some particulars in the 
 history of David ; and many other de- 
 tached passages, which make a powerful 
 impression on a youthful imagination, 
 and convey religious and moral truth in 
 the most pleasing of all forms. The his- 
 tory of our Lord, as it is related in the 
 Gospels, is in like manner full of interest 
 to the youngest minds ; his manner of 
 conveying instruction, is, for the most 
 part, suited to their years ; his parables 
 are little stories, which they can easily re* 
 member ; circumstances in his miracles, 
 which may, perhaps, perplex and astonish 
 persons of advanced years, serve only to 
 captivate their fancy ; and it is not diffiV 
 cult for a prudent instructor, if they shou!4
 
 550 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 
 
 sometimes l>e disposed to ask questions 
 which cannot be answered in a satisfac- 
 tory manner to them, or, perhaps, to any 
 human being, to lead their thoughts to 
 those circumstances which they can fully 
 comprehend. 
 
 V 
 
 In this branch of religious instruction, 
 there is one view, my brethren, to which 
 the minds of children, and of the young 
 in general, ought to be particularly di- 
 rected, I mean, to the character of our 
 Saviour. His connection with a higher 
 nature than ours, renders him an object 
 of peculiar reverence to the young mind, 
 to which he is first introduced ; but the 
 simplicity, and the gentleness of his vir- 
 tues, render him still more an object of 
 love and confidence. It is not, perhaps, 
 one of the least wonderful circumstances 
 in this divine character, that while it is 
 encompassed with the rays of Deity, and 
 jn all the trying circumstances of human
 
 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 331 
 
 fortune, carries a form so lofty and com- 
 manding, it is yet quite level to the feel- 
 ings, and to the understanding of the 
 merest child. The fact is, I believe, it 
 is better understood by children than by 
 ourselves ; from this plain reason, that in 
 some of its most striking peculiarities, 
 their minds are as yet less distantly re- 
 moved from it. 
 
 My object, in recommending this part 
 of Christian instruction in a peculiar man- 
 ner to parents and teachers, is not merely 
 because it is so simple, and so very full of 
 moral and religious wisdom, but from an- 
 other reason. We are very apt to com- 
 plain, my brethren, of the progress of in- 
 fidel opinions among the young, when 
 they go out into the world, and begin to 
 speculate for themselves. We do not, 
 however, always see very distinctly the 
 root from which such opinions take their 
 rise. It is not so much by the arguments
 
 352 OX RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 
 
 of infidel writers, which, very often, they 
 do not understand ; nor even by the poig- 
 nancy of their wit and satire, that young 
 men are so frequently tempted to relin- 
 quish all faith in the religion of their 
 fathers. Infidelity owes its conquests in 
 our days, J am induced to believe, to a 
 cause more honourable to human nature, 
 to the impression made upon the minds 
 of the young, by the specious or real vir- 
 tues of those by whom that bad cause has 
 unfortunately been supported. These wri- 
 ters commonly assume a high tone of 
 liberal sentiment ; many of their works 
 are put into the hands of the young, as 
 the standard books from which very use- 
 ful information is to be obtained in the 
 course of their studies ; and when, as is 
 quite natural, they inquire into the pri- 
 vate history of these writers, they fre- 
 quently discover them to have been men 
 of amiable and irreproachable manaers*
 
 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 333 
 
 In the mean time, in what aspect does 
 Christianity appear to them ? Too often 
 in no other light than as a collection of 
 inexplicable doctrines, to which they 
 never attached any distinct idea ; when 
 they examine its history down to the pre- 
 sent day, they too often have it repre- 
 sented to them in no other view, than as 
 the source of wars, and vices, and bigo- 
 try ; instead of seeing in its ministers the 
 genuine spirit of glory to God on high, 
 and peace and good will to men, the page 
 of history exhibits the priesthood to their 
 eye in all the dark colours of pride, and 
 violence, and gloom, and hypocrisy. If 
 our sons, then, my brethren, abandon 
 Christianity, it is because they never 
 knew what Christianity is ; because they 
 are ignorant of its spirit, and of its ge- 
 nuine influence on the heart. If they 
 are misled by their admiration of infidel 
 philosophers, it is because their young
 
 334 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 
 
 hearts were never impressed, as they might 
 have been, by the character of him to 
 whom Christianity owes its origin. 
 
 Were this character once fairly fixed 
 in their minds, it would, I will venture 
 to affirm, continue to maintain for ever, 
 in their apprehension, its just and evident 
 claims of superiority over every other 
 name, either antient or modern, among 
 those who have at any time undertaken 
 to enlighten, or to reform the world ; and 
 if they also were tempted to go away, they 
 would then say, in the affectionate lan- 
 guage of Peter ; " Lord, to whom shall we 
 go f Thou hast the words of eternal life. 
 And we believe, and are sure, that thou art 
 that Christ, the Son of the living God" 
 
 I have already, my brethren, occupied 
 your attention much too long ; and shall 
 only add in conclusion, that while you 
 are thus engaged in instructing the minds 
 of your children in the simpler views of na-
 
 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 335 
 
 tural and revealed religion, you will great- 
 ly improve your own ideas and sentiments 
 upon these subjects; you will disco verwhat 
 in your private meditations, or in the writ- 
 ings of men, you may not always discover, 
 how plain and unperplexed a thing reli- 
 gion is ; and when, in the language of 
 our Lord, "you suffer little children to come 
 unto yon" you will then best see, what is 
 " the kingdom of heaven 7" 
 
 -!t| 
 
 ,> '! J *i,'> ;!''/; n\ : 'i^/->u l!;<f l 
 
 <'}'K"-.> "- ? ' r>tK .,! , n't
 
 SERMON XXII. 
 
 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 
 
 JOHN, xiv. 15. 
 " If ye love me, keep my commandments? 
 
 1 HAT faith is nugatory, unless it be pro- 
 ductive of good works, or, in other words, 
 that faith can in no other way be known 
 but by its fruits, is a truth so evident to 
 natural reason and common sense, that 
 it would never have been called in ques- 
 tion by the wildest enthusiast, unless, 
 from some error in their religious educa- 
 tion, men had been accustomed to sepa- 
 rate in their minds the doctrines of reli-
 
 *N RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 337 
 
 gion from its practical influence, and to 
 rest their thoughts on the former of these, 
 unaccompanied with any reference to the 
 latter. It is this error which has infused 
 into religious controversy so dark a spirit 
 of malignity and virulence, which has 
 disgraced the Christian church in every 
 age, by vain attempts to penetrate into 
 mysteries totally removed from the reach 
 of the human understanding, and which 
 has clouded in a veil of unmeaning words, 
 even from the eye of childhood, those 
 simple truths which at once meet with 
 the assent of the uncorrupted mind to 
 which they are proposed, and which lead 
 so naturally to the Love and the practice 
 of goodness. 
 
 To obviate this error, and the fatal 
 consequences to which it leads, I recom- 
 mended it to you, my brethren, in a for- 
 mer discourse, to fix the views of your 
 children on those parts of religious in- 
 
 Y
 
 338 .ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 
 
 struction which are quite plain, and 
 which must be interesting to them, leav- 
 ing, till they arrive at a maturer age, 
 those doctrines which they cannot now 
 comprehend, and which to them have 
 no practical consequences. It was the 
 practice of St Paul to feed " the babes in 
 Christ with milk, and not with meat :" a 
 maxim, which, if Christian instructors 
 had in general been as anxious to imitate 
 the profound sagacity and the liberal 
 spirit of this great apostle, as to per- 
 plex themselves and their disciples with 
 those passages in his writings which even 
 St Peter acknowledges are hard to be 
 understood, would have freed the world 
 from much bigotry, much fanaticism, 
 and much infidelity. 
 
 The compilers of our catechism having, 
 in this spirit, instructed the young in the 
 first plain truths of religion, proceed to 
 render these truths important to
 
 ON JIELIGIOU8 EDUCATION. 
 
 by shewing their connection with the 
 duties of life. They have, first of all, 
 pointed out some of the most striking of 
 these duties, in that form of words which 
 was of old delivered to the people of the 
 Jews ; and they afterwards concentrate 
 the spirit of the ten commandments un- 
 der the two heads, of duty towards God, 
 and duty towards our neighbour. The 
 general result of the whole is still more 
 shortly expressed by our Saviour in the 
 well-known passage, " thou shalt love the 
 Lord thy God, with all thy. hearty and with 
 all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is 
 the first and great commandment. And the 
 second is like unto it ; thou shalt love thy 
 neighbour as thyself. On these two com." 
 mandments hang all the law and the pro- 
 phefs" 
 
 There is something in the character 
 of childhood which easily receives the 
 impression of this law of love. When
 
 S40 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 
 
 the infant mind is elevated to a sense of 
 Deity, it naturally recognises in the Su- 
 preme Being the image of parental af- 
 fection ; and when it is not misled by an 
 unhappy education, it is disposed to look 
 up to God with that <( love which casteth 
 out fear." It is at this period easily im- 
 pressed with the feeling, that to " serve 
 him truly all the days of our lives" is the 
 first of duties, and one which must ren- 
 der us happy in the performance. In 
 like manner, a benevolent interest in the 
 good of our fellow-creatures is easily re- 
 cognised by a young mind as the dictate 
 of the heart ; and whenever any circum- 
 stance is mentioned which may excite its 
 compassion, or whenever its sense of 
 justice is awakened, it will often be found 
 to possess these sentiments in much high- 
 er perfection than after it has been train- 
 ed in the discipline of the world. It is 
 accordingly of great importance in edu-
 
 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 341 
 
 cation to exercise the moral sensibility of 
 children ; to state to them imaginary 
 cases, or to take advantage of real inci- 
 dents, by which their moral judgments 
 may be exerted, and by which their at- 
 tention may be withdrawn from their 
 own selfish feelings, to a quick sympathy 
 with the feelings of others. But, on these 
 general principles of religious and moral 
 education, I cannot pretend, my bre- 
 thren, to afford you any instruction ; and 
 I am the less induced to enter upon the 
 subject, when I recollect the many ex- 
 cellent works* which have been written 
 upon it, and which are in the hands of 
 every parent. 
 
 Among the ten commandments there 
 are two which, in a more peculiar manner, 
 interest the minds of the young, that 
 which enforces the observance of the Sab- 
 
 * Mrs Hamilton, Miss Edgeworth, &c.
 
 542 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 
 
 bath r and that which requires duty to pa- 
 rents. They are the commandments which 
 have most efficacy in guiding their steps 
 into the paths of piety and virtue. The in- 
 stitution of the Sabbath is the great means 
 by which a sense of religion is kept up 
 in the world. It is a standing memorial 
 of the divine administration ; and cannot 
 fail to impress, even the youngest mind, 
 with feelings of reverence for that great 
 unseen Power, before whom the child- 
 ren of men are taught with one ac- 
 cord to bow, and, for the sake of whose 
 worship, a stop is regularly put to the 
 common occupations and amusements of 
 life. It is under the influence of such 
 feelings that religious impressions spring 
 up at first in the human heart ; and the 
 most common symptom of their depar- 
 ture is shewn in a disregard for that sa- 
 cred institution by which they were ori- 
 ginally fostered. Let it, therefore, my
 
 0] RELIGIOUS EDUCATION'. 345 ' 
 
 brethren, be an object of your care, to 
 impress the minds of the young with a 
 reverence for this sacred day. Let them 
 be early accustomed to apply it to the 
 purposes for which it was designed ; to 
 such meditations upon God and his laws, 
 as are suited to their opening minds; and 
 whenever they are capable of the exer- 
 cise, let them on this day join you in 
 your public and private devotions* 
 
 At the same time, be careful that they 
 associate with the return of the Sabbath 
 no ideas of gloomy restraint. Bear al- 
 ways in mind, that the Sabbath was made 
 for man, and not man for the Sabbath; 
 and while on this day you lead their hearts 
 to the feelings of piety, at the same time 
 shew them, that the day which God has 
 set apart for himself, is a gift of unspeak- 
 able mercy to man. Shew them, upon 
 this day, the labourer reposing from his 
 toil, and in the bosom of his family, and
 
 544 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 
 
 in the house of his God, feeling, not- 
 withstanding the hardships of his humble 
 condition, that he too possesses the best 
 blessings of life, and the well-grounded 
 hopes of futurity. Shew them, upon this 
 day, even the lower animals partaking in 
 the general repose, and the same watchful 
 goodness which gives relief to the man- 
 servant and the maid-servant, providing 
 likewise for the comfort of the cattle. If 
 they are required on this day to suspend 
 the ardour of their common amusements, 
 yet shew them by your own example, 
 that there are occupations suited to it r 
 Avhich may fully interest and employ their 
 minds. Carry them along with you to vi- 
 sit the houses of poverty ; let them witness 
 the joy and the gratitude of relieved indi- 
 gence : and impress them with the feeling, 
 that they are then most truly worshipping- 
 God, when they are his ministers of good 
 to man. To minds thus early trained in
 
 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION 1 . 345 
 
 the true spirit of the Sabbath, that day 
 will through life continue to return with 
 a cheerful and animating aspect; and, in- 
 stead of becoming a source of weariness, 
 as it too often is to the higher ranks of 
 society, or of being profaned by unsuit- 
 able cares and amusements, it will for 
 ever protect them from the contagion of 
 an irreligious and worldly spirit, and will 
 afford them a happy relaxation from the 
 common business of life. 
 
 The commandment which recommends 
 duty to parents, is placed immediately af- 
 ter those which relate to our religious du- 
 ties, and is with much propriety put at 
 the head of the moral law. It is, in fact, 
 the moral duty which resembles religion 
 more nearly than any of the others, and, 
 probably, for this reason, was in antient 
 times known by the name of piety. It is, 
 indeed, pleasing when we look into the 
 history of the heathen world, to discover
 
 346 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 
 
 the force and authority which was attri- 
 buted to this obligation ; and while, in 
 their religion, we are shocked with the 
 spectacle of the most blind and melan- 
 choly errors, to find that they were yet 
 in possession of a principle which might, 
 in some degree, stand in the room of re- 
 ligion. This duty is what, of all others, 
 the young can most distinctly compre- 
 hend. They are inured to the habits 
 which it requires, before the obligation 
 itself can be impressed upon their minds. 
 It is a duty to which nature leads them, 
 as well as religion, and which, when it in- 
 fluences them as it ought, must have the 
 happiest consequences upon all their con- 
 duct. The truest honour which can be 
 shown to parents is by obedience,, and a 
 ready inclination even to anticipate their 
 commands. This leads to the practice of- 
 all virtue. The sacred regard to parental 
 authority, when once it has become a ha-
 
 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 347 
 
 bit of the mind, is afterwards transferred 
 with ease to the authority of conscience 
 and of God. 
 
 To these imperfect observations on the 
 laws of duty I shall only add, that the 
 best precepts will have little influence on 
 the minds of your children, unless they 
 are accompanied with your own example. 
 Let them see, my brethren, that you are 
 yourselves lovers of God and of goodness, 
 and your precepts will then have an in- 
 fluence beyond your own expectations; 
 and even while you give no precepts in 
 words, your lives will give them for you. 
 How should they believe in God, fear 
 him, and love him with all their heart, 
 and mind, and strength, if you, who in- 
 struct them to do so, seem indifferent to 
 his laws, and regardless of his institutions? 
 Or how should they honour their father 
 and their mother, if you endeavour not 
 to exhibit characters which they may ho-
 
 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 
 
 nour ? If you, in your own conduct, are 
 Worthy of honour, your influence with 
 your children will not die with yourselves* 
 When you are in your graves, and when 
 your direct authority over them is at an 
 end, your venerable forms will still seem 
 to rise up before them, and they will still, 
 in the hours of trial and temptation, hear 
 your voices calling them into the paths of 
 purity and virtue. 
 
 That part of the catechism which is 
 adapted to the instruction of children con- 
 cludes with the important and interesting 
 su bj ect of prayer. The obse r vations which 
 afterwards follow on the sacraments are 
 intended for those who are advanced to 
 that period, when they may take upon 
 themselves, in confirmation, their baptis- 
 mal engagements, and are preparing to 
 receive the sacrament of the Lord's Sup- 
 per. Upon these points I ma}?, on some 
 future occasion, address you ; at present,
 
 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 34 
 
 I conclude with one or two remarks on 
 the subject of prayer, which is opened so 
 simply and beautifully in the following 
 words : " My good child, know this, that 
 thou art not able to do these things of 
 thyself, nor to walk in the commandments 
 of God, and to serve him, without his spe- 
 cial grace, which thou must learn at all 
 times to call for by diligent prayer. Let 
 me hear, therefore, if thou canst say the 
 Lord's prayer." 
 
 The prayer which follows, my brethren, 
 we are well acquainted with. It is the 
 prayer which our Lord taught his dis- 
 ciples, and in every age of the church it 
 has been received as the most perfect 
 form in which men can address their Fa- 
 ther in heaven. In our present view, it 
 is the prayer which we teach our child- 
 ren ; and it is not one of the least of its 
 beauties, that, while it comprehends all 
 the petitions which are useful to men, it
 
 OX RELIGIOUS! EDUCATION. 
 
 is expressed in so very few and plain 
 words, that it is quite level to the feelings 
 and understandings of children. 
 
 Of prayer, in general, it may be said, 
 that it is an employment to which the in- 
 fant mind naturally applies itself) and it 
 is one which is peculiarly adapted to pu- 
 rify the springs of religion from gloom 
 and apprehension. The habit of making 
 our wants known to God in prayer can 
 only be learned successfully in our early 
 years : When we advance in life, we have 
 too little religious simplicity to apply our- 
 selves to it with unwavering faith. It is 
 the child only who never disputes the ef- 
 ficacy of prayer, and has a full feeling of 
 the force of our Saviour's words, that as 
 " his Father will not give him a stone when 
 he asks far bread ; much less will his Father 
 in heaven refuse to give good things to them 
 that ask him." The habit of prayer is, at
 
 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 351 
 
 the same time, we all know, of the utmost 
 importance, both for supplying us with 
 strength in the performance of our duty, 
 and for infusing comfort into our hearts 
 in the hours of adversity. 
 
 Close, then, my brethren, as you are 
 here directed, your instructions to your 
 children, with teaching them how to pray ; 
 and now, let us, along with them, " desire 
 our Lord God, our heavenly Father, who 
 is the giver of all goodness, to send his 
 grace unto us, and to all people, that we 
 may worship him, serve him, and obey 
 him, as we ought to do. And let us pray 
 unto God, that he will send us all things 
 that be needful, both for our souls and 
 bodies ; and that he will be merciful un- 
 to us, and forgive us our sins ; and that 
 it will please him to save and defend us 
 in all dangers, ghostly and bodily ; and 
 that he will keep us from all sin and
 
 352 ON RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 
 
 wickedness, and from our ghostly enemy, 
 and from everlasting death. These things 
 let us trust that he will do of his mercy 
 and goodness, through our Lord Jesus 
 Christ."
 
 SERMON XXIII. 
 
 OJf RELIGIOUS RITES. 
 
 1 COR. xi. 26. 
 
 " For as oft as ye eat this bread, and drink 
 this cup, y do shew the Lord's death till 
 he come*" 
 
 V^HRISTIANITY is in nothing more re- 
 markable, than for the simplicity by 
 which it is characterized. In point of" 
 faith, it requires the submission of the 
 heart to the reception of divine truth, 
 
 * Preached before the Communion. 
 7
 
 354 <5N RELIGIOUS RITESf. 
 
 much more than any peculiar capacity 
 for understanding abstruse doctrine ; and 
 where men are willing to receive instruc- 
 tion, it will always be supplied them in a 
 sufficient degree for securing the great 
 object of religion, the salvation of their 
 souls. In point of morality and practice, 
 Christianity holds out to men the most 
 sublime and the purest lessons ; it, at the 
 same time, speaks to them as they are 
 men, and, making allowance for the frail- 
 ty of their natures, it enjoins them to do 
 their best, and to trust that their imper- 
 fect endeavours will be rendered accepta- 
 ble with God, through the perfect merits 
 of one who lived and died for their good. 
 The same character extends to the ex- 
 ternal rites and ordinances of Christianity. 
 They are quite simple, easy to be per- 
 formed, and such as must give joy, instead 
 of trouble, in the performance, where the 
 heart is at all affected with the serious
 
 ON RELIGIOUS RITES. 355 
 
 impressions of religion. Thus the institu- 
 tion of the Sabbath, one day in seven on 
 which man and beast are permitted to 
 rest from their labour, and a pause is put 
 to the ordinary business of the world ; on 
 which, in some measure, all distinctions 
 are removed ; and all men, the high and 
 low, the rich and poor, seem to occupy 
 the same place, that of creatures bending 
 before the throne of their Creator ; a day 
 on which, in the Christian institution, 
 nothing heavy is imposed upon men ; 
 " no burdens hard to be borne ;" but the 
 simple offerings of praise and thanksgiv- 
 ing, and of prayer from a pure heart, are 
 alone required from all who come before 
 their Maker, depending on the interces- 
 sions of their common Mediator ; what 
 institution could possibly have been de- 
 vised, more free from vain pomp, or more 
 comfortable to human nature I
 
 356 ON RELIGIOUS RITES. 
 
 In like manner, the two Christian sa- 
 craments, which our Lord himself en- 
 joined on his disciples, are rites very 
 simple and easy, and refer, in a beautiful 
 manner, to the most interesting of all 
 events. The sacrament of Baptism, by 
 which we are initiated into the church 
 of Christ, and the privileges of the gospel 
 covenant, requires only a small sprink- 
 ling of water; and, by means of that ele- 
 ment, shadows out the most excellent of 
 all the benefits which God has conferred 
 upon man ; no other than that purifica- 
 tion of the soul which is effected by the 
 Holy Spirit, and is promised to all those 
 who sincerely ask it. The sacrament of 
 the Lord's Supper, for which we are now 
 preparing, is equally easy in its perform- 
 ance ; and if we attend to the several cir- 
 cumstances of it, it will appear to be a 
 very beautiful institution, and admirably 
 adapted for affecting the mind with those
 
 ON RELIGIOUS RITES. 35? 
 
 impressions which our Lord had in view 
 in enjoining it. A few observations to this 
 purpose may be attended with use ; and I 
 shall, therefore, beg leave to draw your at- 
 tention, first, to the circumstances in which 
 this sacrament was instituted ; secondly, 
 to the mode in which the rite is perform- 
 ed; and, lastly, to those impressions which 
 it is meant to convey to the mind. 
 
 First, The circumstances in which this 
 sacrament was instituted, are detailed by 
 the Evangelists, and by St Paul, in that 
 part of his writings from which my text is 
 taken ; and never, surely, in any story, 
 was there a collection of particulars so 
 very interesting. Our Saviour knew, 
 that the close of his important life was 
 at hand ; that the design of his mission 
 was about to be accomplished ; that he 
 was soon to pass through his last and 
 most difficult trial ; that already one of 
 his disciples had consented to betray him;
 
 ON RELIGIOUS RITES. 
 
 that the rest would desert him in his dis- 
 tress ; that all would be offended because 
 of him that very night, for " the Shepherd 
 was to be smitten, and the sheep of the flock to 
 be scattered abroad." With these thoughts 
 labouring on his mind, he resolved yet to 
 have one meeting of love and easy inter- 
 course with those whom his father had 
 given him, and whom " he loved unto the 
 end;" and, making use of the opportunity 
 presented by the feast of the passover, 
 " when the even was come, (says the Evan- 
 gelist) he sat down with the twelve" 
 
 Such was the interesting period at which 
 the sacrament was instituted. " The Son 
 of Man was about to be betrayed into the hands 
 of sinners" All his exertions for the sake 
 of the human race, were to meet with this 
 unworthy return ! His prophetic eye saw 
 the scenes which were preparing ; beheld 
 the machinations of hell ; and he who 
 loved mankind so well, must have been
 
 ON RELIGIOUS KITES. 359 
 
 affected with the deepest sorrow, that they 
 were to become the instruments of such 
 shocking depravity. Thus, like a father 
 on his deathbed, surrounded by his child- 
 ren, he sate among the disciples, inform- 
 ing them, in terms too plain to be mis- 
 understood, that he was not long to be 
 with them. With a view of impressing 
 them strongly with the awful importance 
 of the events which were about to hap- 
 pen, " as they were eati?ig, (we are told) 
 he took bread, and blessed it, and brake it, 
 and gave it to his disciples, and said; Take, 
 eat, this is my body. And he took the cup, 
 and gave tJianks, and gave it to them, saying, 
 drink ye all of it ; for this is my blood of the 
 new testament, which is shed for many, for 
 the remission of sins" 
 
 It may be remarked, that this method 
 of instituting a memorial of his death, was 
 quite in the manner adopted by our Lord 
 in all his instructions, and in his common
 
 36'0 OX RELIGIOUS RITES.' 
 
 conduct. It seemed part of his plan, to 
 shew that wisdom might he collected 
 from every incident, the most trivial, and 
 that the most serious truths might he im- 
 pressed upon the mind from the occasion 
 of very slight events. Thus his instruc- 
 tions were constantly drawn frem some, 
 of the circumstances in his own or his 
 disciples' situation ; and every common 
 occurrence in their lives he turned into 
 a source of useful doctrine. On this oc- 
 casion, bread and wine were incidentally 
 on the table before them ; and, by a na- 
 tural reference to his body and blood, to 
 which these elements bore some resem- 
 blance, he made them symbols of the 
 most important event which was ever to 
 happen in the annals of time. 
 
 The beauty and interesting nature of 
 this sacrament appear, accordingly, from 
 attending to the circumstances in which 
 it was instituted. Secondly, let us attend
 
 ON RELIGIOUS RITES. 36l 
 
 to the manner of its observance. The 
 event to be commemorated, is the death 
 of our Saviour for the sins of the world. 
 The manner in which this is commemo- 
 rated, is not in sackcloth and ashes, in 
 tears and lamentations, and stripes and 
 penance. We are not required " to give 
 our first born for our transgression, the fruit 
 of our body for t/ie sm of our soul." We 
 are not desired to go forth on pilgrimages 
 to the holy sepulchre ; to collect from 
 every quarter relics of the cross ; and to 
 wear out the sacred pavements in pros- 
 tration and kneeling. Nothing harsh; 
 nothing burdensome ; nothing melan- 
 choly is required from us. We are only 
 desired to meet in fellowship around the 
 table of our Lord ; to personate the holy 
 apostles ; and to receive the sacred ele- 
 ments which he formerly distributed to 
 those well-tried servants, when he met 
 them for the last time before his death.
 
 362 N RELIGIOUS LITES. 
 
 We are desired to kneel down together 
 with the kind affections of Christian 
 brethren, of men who partake in the 
 same misfortune, and who look forward 
 to the same deliverance. Perhaps, it may 
 not be going too far to say, that the very 
 form of this sacrament is a proof, that in 
 the whole course of our Christian warfare, 
 nothing is expected from us which re- 
 quires any very extraordinary or violent 
 exertion. Our Saviour has done so much, 
 that we are desired to do little more, than 
 with faithful and honest hearts to look 
 forward to the completion of his work. 
 He asks nothing that is grievous and dis- 
 tasteful to our feelings : he only bids us 
 remember him; and the manner in which 
 we are to remember him, is not with down- 
 cast and sorrowful countenances, but with 
 glad hearts, and by a social and friendly 
 ceremony. " This do in remembrance of
 
 ON RELIGIOUS RITES. 363 
 
 me" What ? Nothing more, than " to 
 eat this bread, and to drink this cup." 
 
 I proceed, in the third place, to point 
 out those religious impressions which the 
 sacrament of the Lord's supper is design- 
 ed to fix upon the heart. These are im- 
 plied by St Paul in my text : " as oft as 
 ye eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do 
 shew the Lords death till he come." The 
 first thing remarkable in these words is, 
 " ye do shew the Lord's death." Let us 
 then, my brethren, contemplate this cir- 
 cumstance, the Lord's death, and we 
 shall see what meditations ought to em- 
 ploy us while we celebrate this memo- 
 rial of it. It was, then, the death of one 
 who, through the whole course of his 
 life, shewed the most ardent love to man- 
 kind, and who never seemed employed 
 to his own satisfaction if he was not for- 
 warding the good of man and the glory 
 pf God. The death of the best of men
 
 364 ON RELIGIOUS RITES. 
 
 would, in itself be a very affecting cir- 
 cumstance, even although it were attend- 
 ed with no reference to us. We read 
 with admiration and delight the stories 
 of illustrious heroes, of the wise and good 
 in all ages ; and when, as has very fre- 
 quently happened, these men have fallen 
 a sacrifice to the harbarous policy of 
 their opponents, or to the factious fury 
 of the populace, we follow them into, 
 their last scenes, and look up to their un- 
 bending fortitude, in their hours of trial, 
 with feelings of reverence mixed with sor- 
 row. Suppose, then, the author of the 
 Christian faith to be nothing more than 
 a man ; to be a great moral instructor, 
 t( who wcjit about doing good ;" yet, even 
 in this view, he bears the highest charac- 
 ter for every virtue which has ever yet 
 
 u v 
 
 shone forth in human nature, without 
 the smallest taint or admixture of vice 
 and pollution. The death, therefore, of
 
 OX RELIGIOUS RITES. 365 
 
 this distinguished person, especially since, 
 in the circumsances attending it, he dis- 
 played so remarkably all his eminent 
 qualities, the qualities of fortitude and 
 patience, of resignation to the will of 
 God, and brotherly forgiveness to man, 
 is really the most interesting object which 
 we can contemplate in the whole history 
 of mankind, even although it had no con- 
 sequences, and were an event terminat- 
 ing in itself. It is, of all others, the best 
 adapted to impress upon our minds wor- 
 thy principles of conduct, and to make 
 ws in love with the beauty of virtue. 
 
 But when we go on to contemplate 
 the death of Christ in the religious view, 
 as the great sacrifice made for sin, with- 
 out which we could never have had any 
 certain assurance of forgiveness ; when, 
 enlarging our views, we discover that this 
 wonderful person was not a man merely, 
 but was also one " who, being in the form
 
 366 Oft RELIGIOUS RITES. 
 
 of God, thought it not robbery to be equal 
 with God, yet made himself of no reputation, 
 and took upon him the form of a servant, and 
 was made in the likeness of men ; and being 
 found in fashion as a man, he humbled 
 himself, and became obedient unto death, 
 even the death of the cross ;" when we take 
 this view of the subject, surely the con- 
 templation of that important event, of 
 which the sacrament of bread and wine 
 is the symbol, is calculated to enforce 
 upon our minds impressions of deep re- 
 gret for our sins, and hearty resolutions 
 of amendment. These sentiments of re- 
 pentance and purposes of reformation, 
 flowing from the sacred source of grati- 
 tude, must surely have the happiest ef- 
 fects upon our lives, if we are at all hon- 
 est and sincere. Whenever we partake in 
 the holy communion, they will naturally 
 rise in our minds ; the occasion will sug- 
 gest them to us; and it rests with our-
 
 ON RELIGIOUS RITE& 
 
 selves to encourage and strengthen them, 
 so as that they may not be formed in 
 vain. 
 
 The next thing which the words of the 
 text suggest to us, is the second coming 
 of Christ, to which the faithful look for- 
 ward, when all his promises will be com- 
 pleted, and those whom he approves will 
 be made happy with him for ever. This 
 is likewise a natural subject of meditation 
 when we approach the table of our Lord. 
 Were he still in the dark repositories of 
 the departed, and had we no hope that 
 he would ever be restored to us, we 
 might remember him with lamentation 
 and weeping, but scarcely with bread 
 and wine. The very form of this sacra- 
 ment, therefore, justifies St Paul's expla- 
 nation of it, that, in it, we shew the 
 Lord's death, in the belief that he will 
 come again ; and, in this consideration, 
 many very serious impressions are invol-
 
 368 ON RELIGIOUS RITES. 
 
 ved. For when he comes again, he will 
 come in the glory of his Father, to judge 
 the world. He will no longer wander 
 over an obscure part of the earth, a poor 
 and neglected man, scorned by the wick- 
 ed, and scarcely acknowledged by the 
 good ; suffering all the misfortunes in- 
 cident to human life, and, finally, en- 
 during the punishment of a criminal ; but 
 he will appear " sitting on the right hand 
 of power, and coming in the clouds of heaven" 
 and every kindred, and tongue, and na- 
 tion shall be gathered before him. If, 
 therefore, we determine to be good and 
 faithful servants, we are well assured that 
 our Master has the power, as well as the 
 will to reward us ; and we have every 
 reason to rejoice in the hope that is set 
 before us. But " if we be evil servants, and 
 say in our hearts, our Lord delayeth his 
 coming, and shall begin to smite our fellow 
 servants, and to eat and drink with the dnm-
 
 ON RELIGIOUS KITES, S(>9 
 
 ten," then we know that " he will come in a 
 day wJieji ice look not for him, and in an hour 
 that we are not aware of, and shall cut us 
 asunder, and appoint us our portion with the 
 hypocrites." 
 
 Such seem, my brethren, to be the 
 kind of reflections which the sacramenb 
 of the Lord's supper will naturally sug- 
 gest to us ; and surely they are very sa- 
 lutary, and well deserving our frequent 
 consideration. It, therefore, greatly be- 
 comes us to take every proper opportu- 
 nity of " eating this bread and drinking this 
 cup," for the sake of strengthening all 
 our good resolutions, and of confirming 
 our faith. " The nigJit (says the apostle) 
 is far spent, and the day is at hand" Let 
 us steadily keep this principle in view, 
 and it will enable us to bear up under 
 every difficulty, and to resist all tempta- 
 tion. We ought to be thankful that, by 
 the institution of this sacrament, our Sa- 
 A a
 
 370 ON RELIGIOUS RITES. 
 
 viour has given us a solemn opportunity 
 of frequently calling to mind the great 
 leading maxim of the Christian life, that 
 we are strangers in a foreign land ; tra- 
 vellers through a scene of dangers ; com- 
 batants in a serious warfare ; and that 
 we must fix our eyes on our true country, 
 and bear up through faith and hope. 
 Let us then be careful not to neglect 
 those opportunities, nor to avoid that gra- 
 cious invitation which he has given us. 
 We cannot well deserve the name of 
 Christians, if we will not attend at the 
 table of our Master.
 
 SERMON XXIV*. 
 
 OX RELIGIOUS RITES, 
 
 ISAIAH, vi. 7. 
 
 . 
 
 " And he laid it upon my mouth, and said, 
 Lo, this hath touched thy lips, and thine 
 iniquity is taken away, and thy sin pur* 
 gtd." 
 
 1 HESE, my brethren, are the concluding 
 words of a very sublime passage, in which 
 the prophet Isaiah describes a remarkable 
 vision which had been presented to him, 
 and the feelings which it had given rise 
 to jn his mind. " In the year (says he) 
 
 * Preached after the CoEamuni(m.
 
 372 OX RELIGIOUS RITES. 
 
 that King Uzzia/i died, I saw also the Lord 
 sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up, and 
 his train filled the temple. Above it stood 
 the seraphims ; each one had six icings ; with 
 twain he covered his face, and with twain 
 he covered his feet, and with twain he did 
 fly. And one cried unto another, and said. 
 Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord of hosts ; the 
 whole earth is full of his glory. And the 
 posts of the door moved at the voice of him 
 that cried, and the house was jilled with 
 smoke. Then said I, Woe is me ! for I am 
 undone ; because I am a man of unclean lips, 
 and I dwell in the midst of a people of un- 
 clean lips ;for mine eyes have seen the King, 
 the Lord of Hosts. Then flew one of the se- 
 raphims unto me, having a live coal in his 
 hand, which he had taken with the tongs 
 from off the altar ; and he laid it upon my 
 mouth, and said, Lo, this hath touched thy 
 lips, and thine iniquity is taken away, and 
 thy sin purged"
 
 ON RELIGIOUS KITES. 373 
 
 I have chosen the words, from the na- 
 tural reference which they hear to the 
 late solemn occasion of our assembling in 
 this place. We, too, like the prophet, 
 were in the temple of the Lord, and we 
 beheld him in spirit sitting upon his lofty 
 throne. We, too, were admitted into the 
 presence of celestial beings, and we heard 
 the blessed in heaven, and the good upon 
 earth, crying one unto another, and say- 
 ing, " Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord of 
 hosts ; the whole earth is full of his glory!" 
 In that hour, my brethren, which of us 
 did not feel the self-abasement of the pro- 
 phet, and say in his heart ? " Woe is me ! 
 for I am undone ; because I am a man of 
 unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a 
 people of unclean lips ; for mine eyes have 
 seen the King, the Lord of Hosts." Yet the 
 altar before which we were assembled 
 was the altar of mercy and redemption ; 
 and the bread of life which " touched our
 
 374 ON "RELIGIOUS RITES. 
 
 lips* conveyed to our consciences a strong- 
 er assurance than even the live coal, or 
 the voice of the seraph, " that our iniquity 
 is taken away, and our sin purged" 
 
 The suhject into which I am led by 
 these reflections, is the consideration of 
 two prevailing sentiments, which the me- 
 ditations, and the more solemn ceremo- 
 nies of religion, naturally inspire ; senti- 
 ments which are productive, in particular, 
 of the best consequences, when we rise 
 from the altar of our Saviour. The first 
 sentiment which the contemplation of re- 
 ligious objects inspires, is a deep sense of 
 their dignity, and of our littleness. Whe- 
 ther we look abroad through nature, and 
 trace the Deity in the magnitude of his 
 works; in the sun which flames above our 
 heads ; in the splendour of the starry hea- 
 vens ; or in the rolling billows of the deep;, 
 or, when retiring from the contemplation 
 of nature, we look into the depths of the
 
 ON RELIGIOUS RITES. 37^ 
 
 Divine Providence ; the laws by which a 
 moral creation is upheld ; the traces of 
 the Divine hand in the course of human 
 affairs ; and especially the stupendous 
 scheme of revelation ; on such occasions, 
 we are struuk with an overpowering sense 
 of the excelling glory of the Lord, and 
 are lost in equal astonishment at our own 
 littleness and imperfection. It is then, 
 that, with the prophet, we behold the 
 train of the magnificence of God filling 
 the temple of earth and of heaven ; and 
 that, with the psalmist, we cry aloud, 
 " What is man, that thou art mindful of him ; 
 and the son of man t that thou visitest him " 
 It is then, too, that we feel struck with a 
 sense of our offences, of our imperfect and 
 wandering exertions in the service of this 
 mighty and all-bounteous God ; and that 
 we feel the full force of the sentiment of 
 Isaiah, " Woe is me ! for I am undone ; be 
 cause I am a man of unclean lips"
 
 3?t> ON RELIGIOUS R1TLS. 
 
 Amidst such humility and self-abase- 
 ment, the first sentiments of religion rise 
 in the human heart ; and in the heart of 
 a being like man, who is ever prone to 
 weakness and to sin, such feelings must 
 ever accompany all his religious impres- 
 sions. Yet they are not, as the world sup- 
 poses, sentiments merely of gloom and de- 
 pression. They are melancholy and se* 
 vere, but they are sublime ! Man is weak 
 and sinful, and he feels that he is so, and 
 cries out, that lie is perishing in the waves, 
 and is undone ; yet he fixes the eye of 
 faith on the gracious Being who conducts 
 him through the deep ; and, in the very 
 wreck and ruin of his hopes, he clings, 
 with eagerness, to " the Rock of liis salva- 
 tion" 
 
 The second sentiment, therefore, my 
 brethren, which rises in the midst of. our 
 religious contemplations, is that of trust 
 in the goodness and mercy of God. This
 
 ON RELIGIOUS RITES. 377 
 
 is the " live coal " which is carried by a 
 seraph from the altar, and rekindles our 
 failmg souls; and this is the voice of 
 peace which assures us that our " iniquity 
 is taken away, arid our sin purged." Wher- 
 ever we look abroad through nature, we 
 behold an universe rejoicing in the boun- 
 ty of the Creator ; to every thing its por- 
 tion of bliss allotted ; and the smallest in- 
 sect that flutters in the sun-beam provid- 
 ed with the means of happiness, no less 
 than the seraphims who sing the praises 
 of the Lord of Hosts. Amidst this pro- 
 fusion of bounty, is man forgotten ? and 
 is that being who is made but a little 
 lower than the angels, left to wretched- 
 ness and despair ? If he has sinned, is 
 there not mercy with the Most High? 
 will God be angry for ever, and cast off, 
 without hope of pardon, his wandering 
 and prodigal son ? Nature herself, my 
 brethren, speaks? to us of mercy with the
 
 378 ON RELIGIOUS RITS. 
 
 Most High ; and her gentle voice some- 
 
 j 
 
 times whispers to us, with the seraph of 
 the prophet, that our " iniquity is taken 
 away^ and our sin purged" Revelation 
 speaks to us in still more commanding 
 words ; and at that altar from which we 
 have now risen, I trust we have heard a 
 voice which will bring us peace and as* 
 surance for ever. We have there adored 
 in gratitude and humility the mighty sa- 
 crifice of our redemption ; and we have 
 heard the words which say, " If God gave 
 us his only Son, will he not, with him, also 
 give us all things " 
 
 Such, my brethren, are the contempla- 
 tions into which our religon has lately 
 introduced us, and such are the senti- 
 ments which must in some measure have 
 arisen in all our hearts. From that al- 
 tar we are now returning into the world ; 
 and having felt our weakness and infir- 
 mity, and having had our hearts reassur-
 
 Otf RELIGIOUS RITES* 3?9 
 
 ed by the promises of the spirit of God, 
 what remains for us to do ? The prophet 
 will tell us in the words which follow the 
 text. " Also I heard the voice of ttte Lord 
 saying, whom shall I send) and icho will go 
 for us ? Then said /, Here am I : send 
 me." We have knelt down before the 
 cross of Christ ; we have felt the wounds 
 of our consciences healed by the drops 
 of his blood ; and we are advancing, I 
 trust, with renewed spirits into the dan- 
 gers and the trials of the world. What, 
 then, ought to be our principle of action ? 
 " Here am I, (says the prophet) send me ;" 
 or, in the language of a greater than the 
 prophet, " Lo, I come to do thy will, O 
 God !" At the altar of Christ, the glory 
 f the Lord has been unveiled to us ; and, 
 raising our eyes above the things of time, 
 we have beheld his train filling the 
 temple of eternity. W"e have seen all 
 things in heaven and in earth obeying-
 
 380 ON RELIGIOUS RITES. 
 
 his will ; from the sparrow, which falleth to 
 the ground at his command, to the sera- 
 phim, who sing their eternal hymn, "Holy, 
 Ilofyt Holy is the Lord God of Hosts, 
 heaven and earth are full of his glory." We 
 have seen the First-born himself bqwing 
 his head in death, to accomplish the will of 
 the Father : yet, amidst all this grand dis- 
 play of the sovereignty of God, we have 
 found, alas! our own hearts but too often 
 rebels to his will. Abashed at his pre- 
 sence, and self-condemned, we have cried 
 out, " Woe is ?ne, for I am undone :" but in 
 the midst of our humiliation and tears, 
 the living flame of his love has touched 
 our hearts, and the seraph of peace that 
 hovers round the altar, has assured us 
 that " our iniquity is taken away" and now 
 sends us back into the world, willing in- 
 struments in his hands. 
 
 In the world into which we are return- 
 ing, temptations of different kinds will
 
 ON RELIGIOUS 11ITES. 381 
 
 again recur to mislead us, Some of us, 
 probably, are returning into scenes of 
 affliction, and may be tempted to mur- 
 mur against the dispensations of heaven. 
 Yet, my brethren, if such is the call of 
 your Father ; if it is into the scenes of 
 sorrow that he sends you ; still say with 
 the prophet, " Here am /." Forget not 
 so soon the contemplations in which you 
 have been engaged. Remember that the 
 Master before whom you have now bow- 
 ed, was a man of sorrows, and acquainted 
 with grief. You have lately risen from 
 the view of his sufferings *, and have seen 
 that he refused not the cup which his 
 Father gave him to drink. Still more, 
 you have seen the reward of his filial 
 obedience. When the bitterness of death 
 was past, you saw him restored to life 
 and immortality ; and you now are as- 
 
 * < 
 
 * On Good Friday.
 
 382 ON RELIGIOUS RITES. 
 
 sured that, " at the name of Jesus, every 
 knee shall bow." Learn from him to suf- 
 fer ; and the meekness of your patience 
 will like his be rewarded, when sorrow 
 shall be no more ! 
 
 Many of us are returning into scenes of 
 ease and prosperity. It is in these chiefly 
 that we are likely to be misled. When 
 the world smiles upon us, we are too 
 ready to regard it as our " abiding city? 
 and to conceive that we are left to our 
 own disposal. We are then too apt to 
 forget our duty to man, and our respon~ 
 sibility to God. Yet, my brethren, let 
 not the truths, which this day * has re- 
 called to your thoughts, be speedily dissn 
 pated. At the altar you have been told 
 of better worlds. You have seen the Son 
 of God rise from the grave in the form 
 of a man ; and you have heard him call 
 
 * Easter Sunday.
 
 ON RELIGIOUS RITES. 383 
 
 you, to raise your ambition above the 
 enjoyments of a temporary being. " If 
 ye then be risen with Christy seek those things 
 which are above, where Christ sitteth on the 
 right hand of God." " Sef your affections on 
 things above, not on things on the earth." 
 
 Follow your master in all the paths of 
 social duty ; be willing ministers of good 
 in the hands of your heavenly Father ; 
 ever say with the prophet, " Here am I," 
 wheresoever thou wilt, O God, " send ?ne" 
 Thine I am, from the first moment in 
 which my eyes were opened to the light, 
 to that hour when they shall again be 
 closed in death ; and, through this fleet- 
 ing circle of time, so enable me to do 
 thy will in all the labours of love, that 
 I may still be thine, when time shall be 
 no morel
 
 SERMON XXV 
 
 ON PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 PSALM, C. 3. 
 
 " Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, 
 and into his courts ivith praise : be thank- 
 ful unto him, and bless his name" 
 
 J.T is a melancholy truth, that the occu- 
 pations of life should possess the minds 
 of men so entirely, as to leave them but 
 little leisure for religious reflection. Al- 
 though nothing can be a more certain 
 truth, than that all the good which we 
 either enjoy or hope for, is from God ;
 
 ON PUBLIC WORSHIP. 385 
 
 yet it is one which we are not apt to con- 
 siderwith attenti6n, so as to awaken in our 
 sou Is emotions of gratitude and piety. The 
 institution of set times and places for wor- 
 ship, must, accordingly, be acknowledged 
 to be highly beneficial, since it affords an 
 admirable opportunity for majdng a re- 
 treat from our common worldly business, 
 and of fixing our thoughts on that unseen 
 Benefactor, from whose hand are derived 
 all the blessings of our lives. Yet the 
 spirit of irreligion prevails so far, that 
 men rather avoid these opportunities, 
 than avail themselves of them ; or even 
 if they seem to lay hold of them, it is 
 often with such a temper of mind as to 
 derive no benefit from their recurrence* 
 
 There are two leading views from which 
 a regular attention to public worship may 
 be recommended ; the spiritual improve- 
 ment of the individual, and the good ex- 
 ample which is thereby set to others. In 
 
 Bb
 
 S96 ON TU'KLTC WORSHIP. 
 
 the tfirst place, a proper attention to tpub- 
 'lie worship, contributes much to the spiri- 
 tual improvement of the 'individual. The 
 fact whii5h $ set out -with stating is uncle- 
 liable ; that in the present life we are 
 necessarily so 'much occupied -with worldly 
 concerns, as 'to 'render us on 'the whole in- 
 attentive to religious 'truth, and the con- 
 cerns of futurity. This fleeting scene occu- 
 pies all our thoughts ; and our heads are too 
 often kid -in the grave, before -we have se- 
 riously reflected, that the grave is the -gate 
 ^Vhieh opens on an eter-nal wofld. Of 
 this, and all other ; religious -truths, we fre- 
 quently require 'to be reminded, and to 
 have them impressed upon our reflections 
 in such a form, that they may keep their 
 hold amidst all the seductions of present 
 things, and establish somewhat of a ce- 
 lestial temper within us, even while our 
 souls are borne down and fettered, by the 
 incumbrance of our material frame.
 
 6> T .EU.B.LIC JV^R.S.HIP. 387 
 
 The stated and regular , worship of God 
 is an .admirable , expedient for t^hi,s pur- 
 pose. iWhqn .we " enter into Ids gates 
 witji tJianJcsgiyingt .find mtf .his cou_rt,s . with 
 praise;" \*fhen our spuls are elevated ,tp 
 the contemplation, of ,his .invisible .glory; 
 when, we awakeji t jrx our. hearts sentirnents 
 of grati^de, and entreat with hurnility 
 the continuance of .his^favqur ; when^ve 
 are instructed r frpni *his holy word, an^i 
 listen -to .those .heavenly precepts whjeh 
 the divine .teacher ga\,e ( tp ^he childveri 
 of men ; .w ; h.Qn , we are .sp employed, thp 
 world v>vill sqrjely for a time retreat . froin 
 pur thoughts; and, feeling. the full force pf 
 impressions, we shall be ready tp 
 , with, the Patriarch of old, "How 
 dreadful is this place! this isnoneotJiei-.than 
 the house of , God, . and .this is the gate of 
 heaven /" 
 
 I am aware, : niy brethren, tliat ,such 
 sentiments may be only momentary, and
 
 388 Otf PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 that, when we return into the world, the 
 tide of human occupations and passions 
 may carry us along with renewed force ; 
 yet something will always be apt to re- 
 main, some holy emotion, which may 
 check the turbulence of unhallowed de- 
 sire, or which may elevate the mind above 
 the mean pursuits of avarice, or vulgar 
 ambition. And, by frequently permitting 
 such impressions to be repeated, a habit 
 of piety, and of serious reflection, will be 
 wrought into the soul, sufficient to bear it 
 in triumph through the delusions of the 
 world, and finally to convey it into that 
 uninterrupted bliss, which awaits the good 
 in the presence of their heavenly Father. 
 There is, indeed, a careless and inat- 
 tentive manner of being present in form 
 only, while the offices of religion^are per- 
 formed, which, so far from producing any 
 improvement to the soul, rather tends to 
 render it callous to all religious impres-
 
 ON PUBLIC WORSHIP. 389 
 
 sions. It is not uncommon for men to 
 imagine, that their duty to God is suffi- 
 ciently fulfilled, if they merely attend in 
 person the places appointed for his wor- 
 ship, without really applying their minds 
 to prayer, or endeavouring to derive any 
 instruction from the truths which they 
 may hear delivered. These men, indeed, 
 " enter into the gates of Gpd's house" but it 
 is without " thanksgiving and praise ;" with- 
 put any disposition to honour their maker, 
 or to be rendered capable of honouring 
 him. It is unfair, however, to argue a- 
 gainst the utility of religious institutions, 
 from the small influence which they seem 
 to possess over many of those who appear 
 to treat them with due regard ; because 
 it often happens, that those men who seem 
 the most zealous for religion, have yet 
 never permitted their hearts to be affect- 
 ed with any genuine sentiments of piety,
 
 390 Otf 
 
 arid; '* ''hddtng <tf6M of 'goffirtiss,- thcg pet 
 deiiy (he power thtfttif." 
 
 Tha'f We ma/ receiVe 5 irtfpr 
 Ae courts 6f the Lord, it fe, mft 
 
 e it! i^ iff ^hich we : rfr6 enfiployed ; 
 ^6' renteiftber tha?6 we are aJddressin*^ fern 
 ^Ro rs praised by die vofces* o# Afigels a^U 
 Archangels ; aini t"hat it: is frorn the sin- 
 cerity of ou^ worship afone that our feeble 
 voice cati b6 ttotfght worthy of joining 
 in LYn'feon with' theirs. Wtefr such aire 
 our irnpressi'ons, arid when 1 we feel our de- 
 V6^ioh' inflarnecf by sympathy with our 
 surrounding bfefhren, the most thotfght- 
 less among us wiH, for a titne at feaist, 
 think soberfy ; and 1 ftie* wisest and: best of 
 us wiff fe^urri from tfe gafesof tlhe hoitse 
 of Cd'd 1 , wfeer a'hd; better th^nr v^hen he 
 entered in. 
 
 The second ttew, frofn \thich this prac- 
 tice may be recommended, is under
 
 ON PUBLIC WORSHIP. 3Q,l 
 
 head of example, which applies chiefly to 
 men of character and influence, whose 
 conduct is Temarked, and who are as 
 " citUs set on a lull* that cannot be hid" 
 There is no man, indeed, who may not 
 have some influence, whose example will 
 not probably be copied by some one or 
 other. All parents are under strong obli- 
 gations to set a good example to their 
 children; all masters to their servants; 
 but particularly men of station and rank 
 to their inferiors every where around 
 them. Now, a regular habit of attending 
 public worship is a feature in the example 
 of a good man, which has a wider and 
 more beneficial influence than is com- 
 monly imagined ; gives an impression of 
 weight and dignity to his character, which 
 it would otherwise want ; and establishes 
 the opinion, that he is actuated by nobler 
 motives than the desire of popular favour, 
 or any mere worldly consideration.
 
 392 ON PUBLIC WOESHlt. 
 
 The lower orders of men, who at one 
 time declaim against the profligacy of 
 their superiors, and, at another, take 
 comfort to themselves, in the midst of 
 their own corruptions, when they see 
 that they are only copying after their bet- 
 ters ; these men look up with emotions 
 of awe and reverence to the rich and 
 powerful man who seems to carry the 
 fear of God before his eyes ; and, while 
 he walks among them, they almost consi- 
 der him as a superior being, commissioned 
 by the Most High to regulate their con- 
 duct, to curb and restrain their vices, 
 and to encourage their humble virtues. 
 Impressions of this kind seize upon the 
 imaginations of the populace, and have 
 prpbably no slight influence in forming 
 their manners. If, then, by the plain 
 and easy practice of resorting to the house 
 of God at the times appointed for his 
 worship, a man of rank or fortune may
 
 OJf PUBLIC WORSHIP. 393 
 
 do more good among his dependants, or 
 those inferiors who watch his conduct, 
 than by the profuse distribution of wealth, 
 or even by well-formed schemes for the 
 good and advancement of society, the ob- 
 servance of this practice becomes a most 
 important branch, not only of his duty 
 to God, but likewise of that which he 
 owes to man. 
 
 These remarks, my brethren, are ap- 
 plicable to all times, but they are, per- 
 haps, peculiarly so to the present age, 
 which, whatever may be its advantages 
 
 / o 
 
 in point of knowledge, of refinement, 
 and of humanity, is certainly far from 
 being eminent for zeal in religion. Many 
 opinions and sentiments which our fathers 
 regarded with reverence, are now too 
 often despised, and many practices which, 
 in their apprehension, were characteris- 
 tic of virtue and goodness, are now too 
 frequently looked upon as the indications
 
 394 ON PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 i 
 
 of a weak and superstitious mind. What- 
 ever advances our age has really made, 
 whatever improvements in practice or 
 opinion, no wise man assuredly will un- 
 dervalue. Our sentiments have, in some 
 respects, become more liberal, our views 
 more enlarged, and our minds have been 
 freed from some unworthy fetters, by 
 which those of our fathers were tied down 
 and enslaved. All this is right : these 
 advantages it is our duty to preserve, and 
 in all respects " so to speak and so to do, 
 as they that shall be judged by the law of 
 liberty? 
 
 But let us be very careful lest we ever 
 mistake the spurious offspring of our va- 
 nity and self-conceit for the genuine fruits 
 of an improving age ; and whilst we con- 
 demn the frivolous observances frequent 
 among " those of old time" let us be cau- 
 tious lest we shut our eyes to that lustre 
 of true religion and piety that so often
 
 ON PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 shed a glory around their steps, which 
 all our boasted knowledge and improve- 
 ments seek to confer upon us in vain. 
 Let us be cautious lest we ever despise 
 that simple and unassuming wisdom 
 which led them to yield a ready and un- 
 forced obedience to every sacred institu- 
 tion, both as the mean of nurturing in 
 their own bosoms the secret seeds of 
 faith and virtue, and for the purpose of 
 drawing more closely those unseen cords, 
 which bind together in beautiful order 
 the jarring elements of human society.
 
 ; : },y 
 
 .SERMON XXVI. 
 
 rf!5J btiii /lujJ'f J5 y*>i7 . ? Pfyij ^n{ 
 ON YOUTHFUL PIETY. 
 
 
 ECCLESIASTES, xii. 1 . 
 
 ' ) l>;?.fSU^ :.MJJ t./l blin ^.'-ii* ; . ' !>i';i>- ?; ' :' 
 
 " Remember now thy Creator in the days of 
 thy youth ; while the evil days come not f 
 nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt 
 say, I have no pleasure in them" 
 
 J[ HE young, my brethren, are too apt 
 to consider religion as a dark and gloomy 
 object. It seems to them calculated to 
 check the sprightliness of their spirits, 
 and to thwart the pursuit of their plea- 
 sures. If they have been educated by 
 pious parents, they will, indeed, regard
 
 ON YOUTHFUL PIETT. 397 
 
 it with reverence and awe ; but still it 
 may seem to them a bondage from which 
 they will sometimes long to become free. 
 The house of God is . apt to appear to 
 them cheerless and melancholy, and their 
 thoughts will often wander from prayers 
 and thanksgivings to the enticing scenes 
 of gaiety and joy. This is a disposition 
 inherent probably in most young minds, 
 and which, therefore, is to be treated with 
 some indulgence. Yet, in this disposition, 
 we may trace the first rise of irreligion 
 in the heart ; we may see those corrupted 
 springs from which the waters of bitter- 
 ness afterwards flow ; and in that distaste 
 to the thoughts of religion as inconsistent 
 with the pleasures of youth, we shajl dis- 
 cover the root of infidelity in some minds, 
 and, in others, of that eager following 
 after vain enjoyments, which finally blots 
 
 out every serious thought. 
 
 i/
 
 ON YOUTHFUL - 
 
 In '.oiftLer, therefore, 4o impress upon 
 the .minds of the young the belief that 
 there is nothing severe in the advice. of 
 the ; wise man wjiich I ; have chosen for 
 my text, I $hall endeavour to prove, first, 
 .that .religion is so far from checking, that 
 it will add a relish to s every innocent 
 pleasure which is natural to the season 
 of youth ; and, in the next place, to shew 
 that -ypu.th is the season in which reli- 
 gion and pleasure may be most easily 
 made to unite, "-while-the evil days eome not, 
 nor tlie years, draw nigh, when thou slialt say, 
 J have no pleasure in them? 
 
 : Let us then consider the season oj 
 youth, and the innocent pleasures .whiqji 
 ,it admits: that season when our limbs 
 are strong ; when our hearts are light ; 
 when our hopes are warm ; and when 
 we begin to run the race of life with alac- 
 rity and joy. Care has not yet sate down 
 upon our minds ; we have not yet cxperi-
 
 ON YOUTHFUL PIETF. 399 
 
 enced the vanity of the world, nor fallen 
 a prey to discontent and repining. Every 
 hour seems to start some new enjoyment, 
 something that we have not yet known, 
 which may add new vigour to our spirits, 
 and refresh our hopes. Life does not 
 yet appear the same unvaried circle of 
 dull employment, or of insipid amuse- 
 ment. All is smiling and delightful ; for 
 the evil days have not yet come, nor the 
 years drawn nigh, in which we shall say 
 we have no pleasure in them. Now, my 
 brethren, it would indeed be a harsh de- 
 sign, if religion advanced to throw a cloud 
 over this pleasing period ; if it hastened 
 the arrival of the evil days instead of re- 
 tarding them, or of breaking their force. 
 If we were forbid to use the vigour of 
 our limbs, if we were required to break 
 clown the cheerfulness of our spirits, and 
 to tear from our hearts all love for those 
 delights which are ever opening upon us,
 
 400 Otf YOUTHFUL PIETY. 
 
 we might, indeed, have some reason to 
 complain that we served a severe mas- 
 ter. 
 
 But religion never forbids the use of 
 any thing which nature throws in our 
 way. It only aims at checking the abuse. 
 Our heavenly Father deals with us in no 
 other way than every wise parent acts 
 by his child. Every kind father is pleas- 
 ed to see his child sprightly and gay, en- 
 joying the amusements and games of his 
 childhood. Every wise father, however, 
 checks his child in those amusements 
 which he sees are hurtful ; and although 
 it may cost a few tears, yet is steady in 
 enforcing obedience. Can we think it 
 hard to be treated by our heavenly Fa- 
 ther in the manner in which the wisest 
 and best parents treat their children ; 
 and do we see those children which ar^ 
 wisely educated less lively and cheerful 
 than those which are idly indulged ?
 
 O\ T YOUTHFUL PIETY. 401 
 
 Where, then, is the severity of the pre- 
 cept, *' remember now thy Creator in the 
 days of thy youth f n what pleasures will it 
 prevent ; what delights will it destroy ? 
 Will it make the face of nature appear 
 less beautiful in our eyes ? will it make 
 us have less delight in the society of our 
 friends, or of those who possess our 
 hearts ? Does the child appear less spright- 
 ly in his play, who recollects that his fa- 
 ther permits certain amusements and for- 
 bids others, than one who runs thought- 
 less into all kinds of mischief whenever 
 he is beyond the paternal eye ? " Re- 
 member now thy Creator in the days of thy 
 youth," and thoti wilt, indeed, avoid the 
 intemperate rioting of drunkenness, the 
 insidious poison of loose debauchery, and 
 all the other snares which lie in the path 
 of youth ; but wilt thou enjoy with less 
 satisfaction the company of thy friend, 
 or think with less delight on the mistress 
 c c
 
 402 ON YOUTHFUL PIE v fY. 
 
 of thy chaste affections, or engage with 
 less animation in the different occupations 
 which suit thy years ? Every period of 
 life has its peculiar duties and enjoy- 
 ments ; and religion does not expect in 
 a young man all the composure and gra- 
 vity of age : it, however, requires the 
 young to be sober-minded, and not in- 
 temperately to give the reins to every 
 eager desire. It requires the young as 
 well as the old to remember that they 
 are immortal beings, and that they will 
 one day give an account of their works ; 
 but, under this caution, it permits them 
 to rejoice in their youth. " Rejoice O 
 young man in thy youth, and let thy heart 
 cheer thee in the ways of thy youth, and 
 walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the 
 sight of thine eyes ; but know thou, that for 
 all these things God will bring thee inte 
 judgme?tt"
 
 ON YOUTHFUL PIETY. 403 
 
 So far is the remembrance of our Crea- 
 tor from being a hindrance to youthful 
 pleasures, that it must clearly add to 
 them, and give them a higher relish. 
 The child that amuses himself under his 
 father's smiles surely enjoys a greater 
 happiness than when he fears to be inter- 
 rupted in forbidden delights, and to be 
 subject to his frowns and displeasure. 
 Must it not add to the lawful pleasures 
 of youth, when we believe that the great 
 Father of our spirits permits them a free 
 scope, and delights to see the happiness 
 of his children while they confine them- 
 selves within the gracious rules of his ad- 
 ministration ? Will not the belief that 
 we enjoy his approbation cheer us under 
 every restraint ; and if we must at times 
 submit to his chastisement, shall we not 
 kiss the rod, and still acknowledge his 
 paternal love ? Let us not, my brethren, 
 form to ourselves a dark and gloomy no-
 
 404 ON YOUTHFUL PIETY. 
 
 tion of the God who made us, but let us 
 regard him as the Father of mercies, as 
 the most mild and gracious of all beings. 
 " Like as a father pitieth his children, so 
 the Lard pltieth them that fear him. For 
 he knoweth our frame : he remembereth that 
 we are dust. As for man^, his days are as 
 grass, as ajflower of the field so heflourish- 
 eth. For the wind passeth over it, and it 
 is gone, and the place thereof shall know it 
 no more. But the mercy of the Lord is from 
 everlasting to everlasting upon them that 
 fear him, and his righteousness unto child- 
 ren s children, to such as keep his covenant, 
 and to those that remember his commandments 
 to do them?"* 
 
 Let us, in the second place, proceed to 
 enforce the argument of the wise man, by 
 which he recommends early piety : it is 
 drawn from the consideration of the diffi- 
 culty of becoming pious at any after pe- 
 riod of life, if we have neglected the re-
 
 GX YOUTHFUL PIETY. 405 
 
 membrance of our Creator in the days of 
 our youth. While we are young, and 
 enjoy life, we feel that it is a good, and 
 we can be thankful for it ; and if we have 
 attained the disposition of thankful ness in 
 our youth, we can retain it when the evil 
 days come, knowing, that although there 
 is little pleasure in them, yet they are the 
 lot of humanity ; and that, if we bear up 
 under their inconveniences with patience 
 and resignation, we shall in no case lose 
 our reward. But if our religious senti- 
 ments are to be first formed in the decay 
 of our years, when the time of pleasure is 
 over, and life wears a dismal and fading 
 aspect, the task must evidently be hard, 
 and contrary to the bent of our nature. 
 When we have wasted our youth in in- 
 temperance, and have lost the cheerful 
 flow of our spirits, and carry about with 
 us a weary and worn-out mind, where is 
 there room for those warm affections of
 
 406 <XN YOUTHFUL PIETY. 
 
 the heart, without which our religion 
 must be lame and imperfect ? How can 
 we, when our decaying frames, the wrecks, 
 perhaps, of our intemperance and folly* 
 seem rather to be monuments of God's 
 indignation, than examples of his love ; 
 how can we then begin, for the first time, 
 to lift our souls in gratitude to him, and 
 to thank him for that goodness which we 
 can with difficulty persuade ourselves that 
 we have ever experienced ? 
 
 If we do become religious in our old 
 age, while we have neglected our Creator 
 in our youth, our religion will be founded 
 rather on fear than on love, and we shall 
 look up to the Author of our being rather 
 as a severe master, whom we must serve, 
 than as a kind father, whose command- 
 ments are given for his children's good. 
 The religion which first begins in the 
 midst of the evil days, will partake of all 
 the gloom and melancholy of the season
 
 6N YOUTHFUL PIETY. 407 
 
 which gives it birth ; and, instead of being 
 the solace and comfort of that declining 
 period, will, perhaps, but cover it over 
 with darker clouds. And yet it is evident, 
 that old age can only be truly cheerful if 
 it is religious. Confidence in God alone 
 can break the force of those storms which 
 will then probably assail us. The young 
 may enjoy, for a time, a life of pleasure, 
 without the thought of virtue and holi- 
 ness. The warmth, the flow, the alacrity 
 of their spirits, may carry them through 
 much dissipation, without great weariness, 
 or much perception that " all is vanity." 
 But the old, tottering on the brink of the 
 grave, with weakened bodies and weary 
 minds, what, O God, can give peace and 
 comfort to them, but the belief that thou 
 art with them, and that thou wilt never 
 forsake them ? And how can they have 
 this happy confidence, if, instead of look- 
 ,ing back on a well-spent life, past in thy
 
 408 ON YOUTHFUL PIETY. 
 
 service, and directed by thee, they behold 
 all their early years a vain scene of vice 
 and disorder, and that they have only had 
 recourse to thy protection, when all be- 
 sides had failed them ? 
 
 It then, my brethren, we are desirous, 
 at any time of our lives, to enjoy the 
 blessings of religion ; if, when the plea- 
 sures of the world have failed us, when 
 our eyes are dim, and our strength de- 
 cayed, and we have outlived the compa- 
 nions of our youth, and are travelling on 
 to the grave in solitude and silence ; if, at 
 this dreary period, when we are in the 
 midst of the evil days, we would still pos- 
 sess a friend " who sticketh closer than a 
 brother ;" w r ho can infuse into our hearts 
 the truest comfort, and be a staff' to our 
 feet, and light to our eyes, let us " re- 
 member our Creator in the days of our 
 youth." God forbid that I should suppose 
 he may not be found at any time by those
 
 ON YOUTHFUL PIETY. 409 
 
 who sincerely seek him ; and, even al- 
 though we have been misled by youthful 
 passions, and have neglected his service 
 in our best days, that yet he will not ac- 
 cept of our sincere repentance, when the 
 evil days have come. But, surely, repen- 
 tance is much easier while our transgres- 
 $ions are few, than when they are multi- 
 plied ; the wound can surely be more 
 easily healed when it is fresh, than when 
 it has rankled and become a sore. 
 
 It is impossible, too, not to perceive the 
 gross impropriety of devoting that time 
 only to the service of our Maker, which 
 is the most inefficient, and of the least va- 
 lue in our existence. In pouring out the 
 cup of life, shall we set apart the dregs 
 only for the great Master of the feast ? 
 Shall our evil days alone be dedicated to 
 that bounty from which all the days of 
 our years are derived, and no part of our 
 pleasant days also ? Is it thus that our
 
 410 ON YOUTHFUL PIETY. 
 
 Creator ought to be remembered ? and 
 can so preposterous a scheme of religion 
 lead to any thing like consistent happi- 
 ness ? In vain, then, my brethren, will you 
 attempt to postpone those duties which 
 are ever soliciting your attention, or to 
 defer, till " a more convenient season" that 
 service in which you can never be too 
 early engaged, and which, when you are 
 heartily engaged in it, you will indeed 
 feel to be " perfect freedom." 
 
 )Ji ivi-'-vt ? >'! ' ,st , n-j .fjMiv&ftmii ,; if 
 
 -^J r i<r --L^ 
 
 ot i>oiir>fb^f) 'K! -''joitf r^it. io.-j friD [\w\.' 
 lo Tub '*HT (h> fi'^ffv/ rr ! o-ti vij'm-! t^s;
 
 SERMON XXVII 
 
 OX REDEEMING JIME*. 
 
 EPHESIANS, V. 16. 
 
 V : 
 
 " He deeming the time, because the days arc 
 evil." 
 
 1 HERE are times, my brethren, when 
 the solemn admonitions of religion fall 
 upon our minds with a peculiar force. 
 Such, for instance, is the season of afflic- 
 tion, when we are made feelingly to ap- 
 prehend the instability of all human en~ 
 
 ; < i". >? -G^'/ ;[)!:;}) " .- '.><. 
 * Preached January 1st, 1808.
 
 412 ON REDEEMING TIME. 
 
 joyments. Whn the days of our lives 
 are evil, we become detached from the 
 common delusions which betray us, and 
 are disposed t s o listen to the voice from 
 heaven, which calls upon us to " redeem 
 the time" and to regulate the remainder 
 of our days on the principles of virtue and 
 of wisdom. 
 
 It is not, however, in the hour of afflic- 
 tion alone, that our minds are awakened 
 to sober and serious thought. There are 
 times interposed by the bounty of Provi- 
 dence, when, without the severe discipline 
 of suffering, the most thoughtless are na- 
 turally called to reflection ; when the 
 young check, for a moment, the bound- 
 less career of hope, and when the old 
 rouse themselves from the slumber of for- 
 getfulness, in which the long habit of ex- 
 istence has involved them. Such is the 
 season of the departing year, when an un- 
 hroken portion of time, through which we
 
 ON REDEEMING TIME. 413 
 
 have lately passed, is at once presented to 
 our view ; and when our thoughts run 
 back to the recollection of the similar pe- 
 riods which were formerly allotted us, 
 and forward to the uncertain anticipation 
 of those which we may yet hope to en- 
 joy, before the termination of our course 
 upon earth. The moment, my brethren, 
 is one of tender feeling, and of serious re- 
 flection ; and the state of mind which it 
 produces is favourable to those exalted 
 sentiments which detach us from mortali- 
 ty, and invigorate our steps in that sub- 
 lime path, the termination of which is in 
 heaven. I need not, therefore, apologize 
 for requesting your attention, at this time, 
 to a few of those reflections which mo- 
 ments, such as the present, naturally call 
 forth. 
 
 One of the first recollections which pre- 
 sents itself to us, when we look back -up- 
 on the years that are past, is the remem-
 
 414 ON REDEEMING TIME. 
 
 brance of those friends and companions, 
 whose society constituted their principal 
 charm. From some of these we have 
 since been separated, by their or our mis- 
 conduct ; from others by absence, and the 
 different accidents of human life ; from 
 more, perhaps, by death. Those among 
 us who have lived the longest in the world, 
 must have the greatest number of such 
 melancholy, but tender recollections; and, 
 from the summit of their advanced years, 
 must behold the fleeting forms of their 
 dearest connections passing in shadowy 
 review before them. To the youngest 
 among us, however, some such remem- 
 brances must occur ; some youthful com- 
 panion, or some venerable parent, of 
 whom death has deprived them for ever. 
 There are, indeed, few who have advan- 
 ced beyond the period of infancy, whose 
 years have not carried them through some 
 " evil days ;" through some of those afflie-
 
 ON REDEEMING TIME. 415 
 
 tions, which are the portion of our nature, 
 which leave a deep trace in the heart, and 
 which improve while they wound it. The 
 recollections are mournful, my brethren, 
 hut they are salutary ; they carry "healing 
 on their wings", and they advance, with 
 every revolving year, to restrain, with 
 gentle force, the impetuosity of our pas- 
 sions, or to rouse the soul from its slum- 
 bers. 
 
 They tell us, first of all, that the kind 
 affections of our nature are those which 
 leave the most durable impressions ; that 
 all occupations in which these are not en- 
 gaged, are in some respect foreign from our 
 hearts, and do not voluntarily present them- 
 selves to our memory ; and that it is only 
 when he loves, and is beloved, that man 
 accomplishes the purpose of his being. 
 They tell us farther, that this purpose can 
 never meet with its full accomplishment 
 on earth; that the " time and chance which
 
 416 ON REDEEMING TIME. 
 
 k 
 
 happen to all things" interrupt likewise the 
 course of our tenderest affections ; and 
 that in the ruins of winter, with which the 
 departing year surrounds him, man is not 
 only called to mourn the decay of nature, 
 but, it may be, the loss of all which kind- 
 led the glow of love in his heart. They 
 tell us, finally, not to grieve, like those 
 who have no hope : in the memory of 
 departed love and virtue, the prophecy of 
 immortality is involved ; and when we 
 call to mind the forms of those whose 
 kind offices were the solace of our early 
 years, or whose virtues animated our 
 youthful emulation, we feel that we are 
 not conversing with the dead, but with 
 " the spirits of the just made perfect" While 
 these recollections inform us, that there 
 is a winter of mortality over which our 
 tears have fallen, they point at the same 
 time to an eternal spring, when every 
 tear shall be wiped away ; and they
 
 ON REDEEMING TIME. 417 
 
 leave us inspired with the high and holy 
 ambition to " redeem the time" which we 
 have lost, and to be no longer " slothful, 
 but followers of them who through faith and 
 patience have inherited the promises" 
 
 In the second place, my brethren, when 
 we look back upon our departed years, we 
 naturally consider in what manner we 
 have been employed in their course. In 
 a review of this kind, the best among us 
 will be conscious, that they " have left 
 undone many things which they ought to 
 have done, and have done many things 
 which they ought not to have done." 
 They will wonder, indeed, at the appa- 
 rent vacuity which they have left behind 
 them ; at the small number of good ac- 
 tions, which rise among the crowd of such 
 as either are pernicious or insignificant. 
 At the same time, they will ff el that their 
 good actions are those alone which they 
 can have much satisfaction in recollect- 
 Dd
 
 418 OX REDEEMING TIME. 
 
 ing ; that they are as lamps which shed 
 a consoling beam upon the darkness 
 which surrounds them ; and while they 
 would willingly forget some part of their 
 conduct, and are indifferent to the recol- 
 lection of the greater part, they can pause, 
 with a tranquil sentiment of enjoyment, 
 on those deeds of light which have distin- 
 guished their path. While the years 
 that are past bring them the sad remem- 
 brance of friends whom they have lost, 
 they bring them likewise the soothing 
 information, that the good which they 
 have done has made them other friends ; 
 and that, although the tenderest strings 
 of their hearts may have been torn and 
 shattered, yet the cord which binds them 
 to the family of mankind may still be 
 strengthened, without the hazard of being 
 broken ! 
 
 How important, then, the lesson which 
 the memory of departed years may bring
 
 ON REDEEMING TIME. 419 
 
 even to the good ! How plainly may it 
 shew them, that the course upon which 
 they have entered is the course which 
 leads to the happiness of their nature ; 
 and how strongly will it teach them, that 
 if they cannot yet look back with entire 
 satisfaction on that part of it which they 
 have run, it is only because their exer- 
 tions hitherto have been unsteady, and that 
 they may yet advance towards higher per- 
 fection ! To those, my brethren, who are 
 wandering far from the path appointed 
 for man ; who in the recollections of the 
 years that are gone, find a melancholy 
 vacuity of " virtue? and of " praise ;" 
 whose scattered deeds of light only render 
 more conspicuous the horror of the gloom 
 which they serve to disclose ; whose la- 
 bours of love and of duty are smothered 
 in the prevailing selfishnessof theirhearts; 
 to such men, the season which now de- 
 parts from them speaks in the language
 
 420 ON REDEEMING TIME. 
 
 of authority and reproof. It calls them 
 to task for that scene of desolation which 
 it is forced to present to their eyes ; it 
 asks them if such is the spectacle which 
 ought to be presented to a moral and an 
 immortal being ; and whether, in the loss 
 of friends, in the wreck of their reputation, 
 and in the increasing wounds of their 
 spirits, they find no motives which may 
 stimulate them to the exertion requisite 
 for " redeeming the time" The season 
 which has gone, points with a prophetic 
 finger to that which is now beginning its 
 course, and shews them " the little cloud, 1 ' 
 which may now seem " like a man's hand" 
 accumulating a deeper gloom, till it co- 
 vers the heaven with blackness. It then 
 points to a brighter prospect, to the glo- 
 rious effects of firm and holy resolution ; 
 to the clouds withdrawing from the open- 
 ing sky of virtue ; to " the Sun of righteous- 
 ness, rising with healing on his wings ;" and
 
 ON REDEEMING TIME. 421 
 
 to that spring of returning peace which, 
 more than the spring of the year, will 
 brighten to the eye of penitence the fair 
 form of creation, and will confer a new 
 lustre on the beauties of earth and of 
 heaven ! 
 
 From the recollection of former years, 
 my brethren, we naturally, in the third 
 place, look forward to those which are to 
 come. In the years which are gone, we 
 all behold the forms of those whom we 
 loved, and whose place on earth knows 
 them no more ; we now behold them 
 bending down to us from the regions of 
 light, and calling upon us to walk in 
 their steps. In the same years, we be- 
 hold the line of our own conduct in 
 many respects fluctuating and uncertain; 
 in the best men, often deviating into er- 
 ror, and, in many, far indeed removed 
 from the path of virtue and honour.- 
 These years are gone for ever, and they
 
 422 GIST REDEEMING TIME. 
 
 can now be of service to us, only if they 
 leave wisdom behind them. If the re- 
 membrance of our first and earliest affec- 
 tions restores to us, in some measure, the 
 youthful simplicity of our hearts ; if the 
 memory of the wise and good, who were 
 once with us on earth, revive in our souls 
 the decaying flame of wisdom and vir- 
 tue, these holy recollections will be pro- 
 ductive of immortal fruits. If the errors 
 and omissions of our former years, make 
 us cautious against future failings ; if the 
 sense of our imperfect exertions quicken 
 our determination to amend ; if, shocked 
 with the form and the consequences of 
 vice, we now firmly resolve to persevere 
 in the road of virtue, the departing year 
 will not have addressed us in vain ; and 
 that year which is now opening upon us, 
 will usher in the " redeeming of our time" 
 Whether, in its progress, our heads are laid 
 in the dust, or whether it is the prelude to
 
 OJf REDEEMING TIME. 423 
 
 a longer course of usefulness and honour, 
 we shall then equally live or die to God, 
 in whose " hand our times are. 1 ' To those 
 who will be wise now, the time which is 
 before them will, under the Providence 
 of heaven, be sufficient for accomplishing 
 the work which they have to do : but to 
 those who still delay, who reject the time 
 of their acceptance, no promises are made, 
 and " this night their souls may be required. 
 of them." 
 
 The uncertainty of the time which is 
 to come, may be one of the circumstances 
 which the Apostle had in view, when he 
 tells us " the days are evil f and gives this 
 as a motive for activity, in " redeeming 
 the time." There are, at the same time, 
 other circumstances to which the expres- 
 sion may be more strictly applicable. He 
 might have in view the habits of increasing 
 years, which render a retreat from evil 
 always more difficult, and tend to be-
 
 424 ON REDEEMING TIME. 
 
 numb the soul in the hardness and in- 
 sensibility of sin. He might allude to 
 the infirmities of life, which increase 
 upon us with our years, and which may 
 bring us suffering and pain, before we 
 have formed the habits of religious for- 
 titude. He might perhaps have more 
 particularly in view the " evils of the 
 days" in which. he lived ; the persecutions 
 to which the first Christians were subject; 
 and the speedy call which might be made 
 upon them, to summon up every prin- 
 ciple of their faith, for the hour of tor- 
 ture or of death. To all these circum- 
 stances, except the last, it is always our 
 wisdom to direct our thoughts ; and to 
 learn from them that prudence which 
 seizes upon the present hour, and puts 
 not off the season of reformation to an 
 hour which may never come, or which 
 may come in vain.
 
 ON REDEEMING TIME. 425 
 
 To the last of these circumstances, 
 however, our thoughts, perhaps, may at 
 this day be more naturally directed, than 
 in any former period of our lives ; and 
 when we contemplate the portentous as- 
 pect of the world around us, we too shall 
 be apt to feel with the Apostle, that we 
 have " fallen upon evil days." It has 
 been our lot, my brethren, to live in a 
 period of fluctuation and change ; to wit- 
 ness the downfal of empires which were 
 mighty in the days of " our fathers, and 
 in the old times before them ;" and to 
 see the sceptre of earthly dominion pass 
 into the hands of those, whose fathers 
 were unknown in the records of nations. 
 We have beheld the appalling spectacle 
 of the establishments of ancient power 
 giving way at the touch of upstart vio- 
 lence : and the proud ones of the earth 
 bending their regal fronts at the impe- 
 rious nod of a plebeian conqueror. Year
 
 426 ON REDEEMING TIME. 
 
 after year, as it passes, adds some new 
 touches to the deeply coloured picture of 
 human mutability; and now* even the 
 winds and the waves have been entrust- 
 ed wHh the fortunes of kings, as more to 
 be depended on than the faithless shores 
 of their paternal sway. 
 
 We have hitherto, it is true, been spec- 
 tators merely of this shifting- scene ; and 
 while the political interests of our coun- 
 try have been deeply involved in the 
 fates of surrounding nations, we have sate 
 in quiet in the dwellings of our fathers, 
 and listened to the howling of the dis- 
 tant storm. \et year after year brings 
 the contest nearer to ourselves ; the last 
 mortal struggle between overwhelming 
 oppression, and indignant freedom. The 
 " evil days" of blood and desolation, which 
 have brought upon the earth " distress 
 
 * Emigration of the Portuguese Court.
 
 ON REDEEMING TIME. 427 
 
 of nations, with perplexity ; metis' hearts 
 failing them for fear, and for looking after 
 those tilings which are coming on the earth ;" 
 seem at last to be gathering over our 
 heads ; and in the hours which are now 
 approaching, there may be required, from 
 every one of us, no slight exercise of vir- 
 tue, and no vulgar firmness of faith. The 
 time may be on its wing, when every 
 moral and Christian principle must be 
 exerted for our national salvation, and 
 when we too must fall under the powers 
 of darkness, unless we are clad in " the 
 armour of liglit" 
 
 At the close of the last year, ray bre- 
 thren, we bowed before the throne of a 
 spiritual conqueror, w r ho came into the 
 world, not to destroy, but to save. Let 
 us begin the present year, with the firm 
 resolution to redeem the time which we 
 have given to other masters, and hence- 
 forth to obey his salutary laws ; so shall
 
 428 ON REDEEMING TIME. 
 
 we be clothed with the strength of his 
 Spirit ; so shall we be nobly prepared for 
 whatever exigence we may be doomed 
 to encounter ; so alone shall we be con- 
 veyed in safety through the passing tu- 
 mults of time ; so alone shall we enter 
 with joy the tranquil haven of eternity I
 
 SERMON XXVIII. 
 
 RELIGIOUS MEDITATIONS. 
 
 REV. i. 8. 
 
 " / am the beginning and the ending, saith 
 the Lord, which is, and wttich was, and 
 which is to come, the Almighty." 
 
 1 HESE words, my brethren, elevate our 
 thoughts to the highest contemplation of 
 which our nature is capable. They lift 
 us at once above all that is little and all 
 that is great upon earth, and carry us 
 into the presence of that Being " who in- 
 habiteth eternity" The contemplation may
 
 430 RELIGIOUS MEDITATIONS. 
 
 appear, perhaps, too lofty for our facul- 
 ties, and may seem to remove us from 
 the present sphere of our knowledge and 
 of our duties ; yet, if we enter upon it 
 with due humility, and seek not to " be 
 wise beyond what is written" beyond what 
 is written on the hearts of men, and in 
 the revelations of God, we shall be sen- 
 sible that those high meditations, while 
 they afford a sublime occupation to the 
 mind, are likewise productive of reflec- 
 tions useful for the conduct of life. 
 
 " "I am the beginning (saith the Lord), 
 which was." Our imagination is here car- 
 ried back to a time when the visible 
 frame of creation was not yet unfolded ; 
 when all the glories of earth and of heaven 
 had not yet a being ; and when that or- 
 der of things which we call Nature was 
 not yet ordained. But while these mag- 
 nificent arrangements of existence were 
 not, there was One from whom they all
 
 RELIGIOUS MEDITATIONS. 431 
 
 have been derived ; and however far 
 imagination may go back, while the earth 
 and the heavens vanish from its eye, it 
 still beholds the great Universal Spirit pre- 
 siding in the immensity of his own es- 
 sence. 
 
 The next object which presents itself 
 to our thoughts is the creation of the uni- 
 verse, when " the Spirit of God moved ujwn 
 the face of the deep ;" when God said " let 
 there be light, and there was light ;" when 
 the sun began to run his race ; when 
 " the morning stars sang together, and all 
 the sons of God shouted for joy" We now 
 behold the earth peopled with innumer- 
 able living creatures, and one of a more 
 erect form, and of a nobler nature, placed 
 among them as their lord. From this 
 period we follow the history of man ; 
 and while we witness with regret the 
 " many inventions " which he has found 
 out for himself; his constant deviation*
 
 432 RELIGIOUS MEDITATIONS. 
 
 from those pure laws which his Maker 
 had established for him, we look up with 
 delight to the great Father interposing 
 in the behalf of his wandering offspring, 
 and rejoice to see the fair fruits of virtue 
 and happiness, which, amidst all the cor- 
 ruptions of man, have been produced, un- 
 der the fostering dew of heaven, in the 
 harvest of human nature. To some he 
 sent prophets, to some apostles ; some 
 were instructed by the light of nature, 
 and at last " he spoke to man by his Son" 
 
 It is a great and a gratifying reflection, 
 my brethren, that there has never been 
 a period of the history of man which has 
 not been transacted under the eye of 
 God ; that he who was from the begin- 
 ning has beheld every step which his 
 children have made ; and that his good 
 spirit has ever been with them, calling 
 them on into the ways of perfection. It 
 is interesting to recognise this bond of
 
 RELIGIOUS MEDITATIONS. 433 
 
 union connecting the human race from 
 their first origin to the present hour-; to 
 think that the God who now beholds us 
 was the God of our fathers, and that " ttie 
 God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob" 
 is still the Lord of the whole earth. 
 
 " / am he (saith the Lord) which is" 
 When we look back to the beginning, 
 my bfethren, we see a universe bursting 
 into existence. The creation of things 
 is a work which astonishes the imagina- 
 tion, and we instantly acknowledge the 
 Maker in the glory of the work. When 
 we read, too, in the pages of sacred his- 
 tory, we are struck with the relation of 
 astonishing interpositions of the divine 
 power ; and when we are informed of a 
 path opened through the sea, or of food 
 rained from heaven, or of a .dead man 
 raised to life, w r e immediately recognize, 
 in those miraculous occurrences, the hand 
 of the Deity. It is only amidst the regu- 
 
 E e
 
 434 RELIGIOUS MEDITATIONS. 
 
 larity and order of nature, while no 
 change is made, while nothing is pre- 
 sented to rouse the imagination, while 
 all things are as they have been from the 
 beginning, that we ever forget there is a 
 God, and are tempted to say with the 
 scoffer, " where is the promise of his com- 
 ing ?" But this very regularity and con- 
 stancy of nature is the proof that God is; 
 that he ever possesses the same power 
 
 and the same wisdom ; that in him there 
 
 
 
 is " no variableness nor shadow of turning" 
 and that " he slumbers not nor sleeps." 
 
 " I am he (saith the Lord) which is." 
 Does thy inattention or thy impiety, O 
 man ! overlook this truth ? Art thou in- 
 sensible to the present Deity ? Dost 
 thou shut thine eyes to the aspect of 
 nature, or seest thou no traces of his pro- 
 vidence in the course of human affairs ? 
 Do the disorders of the moral world con- 
 found thee, and do the miseries of na-
 
 RELIGIOUS MEDITATIONS. 435 
 
 tions cloud from thy view the beneficence 
 of God ? Yet, does not the sun still rise 
 in the heavens, and continue his annual 
 course, and bring the vicissitudes of sea- 
 sons, and the grateful interchange of 
 night and day ? Or if the book of pro- 
 vidence is dark, yet, has not " the Sun 
 of righteousness" risen upon the earth ; and, 
 amidst all the guilt and the miseries of 
 mankind, does not he shed " healing from 
 his mngs?" 
 
 While the profane or the superstitious 
 require some unusual excitement of the 
 imagination before they can be roused to 
 a sense of the divine presence, the man 
 of true piety and reflection feels that he 
 is never removed from his Father's eye ; 
 that, wherever he goes, God is with him ; 
 and that the same Spirit which at first 
 called into existence all the orders of be- 
 ing, and which has since superintended 
 and guided the progress of the human
 
 436 RELIGIOUS MEDITATIONS. 
 
 race, is still watching over his children, 
 and gathering them under the wings of 
 his love. 
 
 " / am the ending (saith the Lord) 
 which is to come" We have beheld, my 
 brethren, the great Universal Spirit hover- 
 ing over the universe which he has cre- 
 ated, from the first moment of time to 
 the present hour. The present hour is 
 short ; our time is on its wing ; and the 
 day will shortly arrive when we too shall 
 be numbered with those who have been. 
 It js natural for man to look beyond his 
 own little sphere, and to listen to the 
 voice which says, " come up hither, and I 
 will shew thee things which must be here- 
 after" The t only ground on which our 
 predictions of futurity can rest is this, 
 that whatever changes there may be, 
 God is to come ; and that, under his eye, 
 the great scheme of providence will go 
 on and prosper till all shall be accom-
 
 RELIGIOUS MEDITATIONS. 457 
 
 plished. It is pleasing, under this belief 
 to meditate on the mighty things which 
 will be transacted upon earth after out 
 heads are laid in the dust ; on all the im- 
 provements which will be made by the 
 future races of men ; and on that slow but 
 steady course of divine providence, by 
 which man will at last arrive at the" per- 
 fection predicted by the prophet, when 
 " the earth shall be full of the knowledge of 
 the Lord, as the waters cover the sea" 
 
 " I am the ending (saith the Lord). 
 The time will come when this earth and 
 all its inhabitants will be removed, and 
 when a new heaven and a new earth will 
 appear. " There will be no need of the sun, 
 neither of the moon to shine in it, for the 
 glory of God shall lighten it, and the Lamb 
 shall be the light thereof." 
 
 Such, my brethren, are some of those 
 lofty contemplations which the words of 
 the text may suggest to us. They are
 
 43S RELIGIOUS MEDITATIONS. 
 
 evidently the highest contemplations of 
 our nature, and to some, perhaps, they 
 may seem to transport the mind of man 
 beyond the present humble sphere of his 
 duties. It is indeed true that our present 
 part is an humble one ; and religion, 
 when rightly understood, will never car- 
 ry us into meditations which are beyond 
 the reach of our limited views. But the 
 error into which men are so apt to fall, 
 of confining their thoughts too closely to 
 the little scene before them, without con- 
 necting it in their imaginations with those 
 things which have gone before, and with 
 the things which must be hereafter ; this 
 vulgar error it is the great office of Reli- 
 gion to correct ; and she delights to point 
 out that more extended range of contem- 
 plation which will, indeed, elevate us 
 somewhat above our common pursuits or 
 enjoyments, but never above our duties. 
 There cannot, on the contrary, be a
 
 RELIGIOUS MEDITATIONS. 439 
 
 greater call to the faithful and strenuous 
 discharge of every duty, however appar- 
 ently little and unnoticed, than the per- 
 suasion that we are ever in the eye of the 
 Greatest of Beings, of him " who is, and 
 ivas, and is to come, the Almighty." 
 
 Another consideration, my brethren, 
 the highest and most sublime which our 
 nature can reach, is suggested likewise 
 by these contemplations. It is, that as 
 God is to come, man shall not perish ; 
 that, as the grave is subject to the power 
 of Omnipotence, the time will come 
 when the souls which it confines will be 
 set free ; and that those beings who were 
 endowed with capacity to find out their 
 Maker, will never lose in death the tie 
 which bound them to him. This per- 
 suasion to which nature leads us, and 
 which the Gospel confirms, levels at once 
 all the little distinctions of time, and pla-
 
 RELIGIOUS MEDITATIONS. 
 
 ces every rank and condition of human 
 life on a great and glorious equality. 
 
 Art thou high in place and power 
 among men ? Then waste not thy short 
 and fleeting day in the folly of pomp and 
 pride. There is one to come, the Al- 
 mighty, before whom all thy petty ad- 
 vantages will vanish " like the chaff before 
 the wind" If, in that day, thou wouldst 
 stand before him, " do justice, love mercy, 
 and walk humbly with him." 
 
 Art thou in low estate, and dost thou 
 sometimes repine that there are men 
 whom fortune has raised above thee ^ 
 Are there, then, no duties suited to thy 
 station ? Dost not thou, too, act in the 
 sight of one who values equally thy con- 
 dition with that of the mightiest ruler of 
 nations, in the sight of him " who was and 
 who is;" and is he not likewise " to comef 
 and is there not a day coming in which 
 he will reward thee if thou dost well ?
 
 RELIGIOUS MEDITATIONS. 441 
 
 These, my brethren, are the most use-, 
 ful reflections to which we can accustom 
 our minds, as well as the greatest and 
 the most glorious. Let us not lose them, 
 therefore, in the insignificance ef worldly 
 things, nor quit our portion in the inheri- 
 tance of that true " liberty wherewith Christ 
 hath made us free!' 
 
 THE END. 
 
 ERRATUM. p. 94. 1. 11. for one day, read OUT day. 
 
 George Ramsay and Co. Fruiters.
 
 
 
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