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. f -fr'Jft .rr * .'<' THE LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA Santa Barbara THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE STAMPED BELOW. Series 9482 A 001 008 802 9