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 Received October, 18Q4. 
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SERMOIS 
 
 ON CERTAIN OF 
 
 THE LESS PROMINENT 
 
 FACTS AND REFERENCES IN SACRED 
 
 STORY. 
 
 t y> "i 
 
 BY 
 
 HENRY MELYILL, B. D., 
 
 PRINCIPAL OF THE EAST INDIA COLLEGE, 
 
 AND CHAPLAIN TO THE TOWER OF LONDON. 
 
 SECOND SERIES. 
 
 STANFORD AND SWORDS, 139 BROADWAY. 
 
 1846. 
 
& X S/ 3 3 
 f 3 
 
 JOHN R. M'GOWN, PRINTER, 128, FULTON-STREET. 
 
SERMONS 
 
 ON CERTAIN OF THE 
 
 LESS PROMINENT FACTS AND REFERENCES IN SACRED STORY. 
 
 SECOND SERIES. 
 
 SERMON I. 
 
 THE YOUNG MAN IN THE LINEN CLOTH. 
 
 " And there followed him a certain youn? man, having a linen cloth cast about his naked body; and the youns men 
 laid hold an him : and he left the linen cloth, and fled from them naked." — St. Mark, xiv. 51, 52. 
 
 St. Mark is the only Evangelist who 
 mentions this occurrence: we cannot, 
 therefore, as we often may, by a com- 
 parison of accounts, obtain a fuller nar- 
 rative of facts, and thereby settle with 
 more precision what particular truths 
 may have been illustrated or enforced. 
 But if we have only this single account, 
 it 2roes sufficiently into detail to afford 
 much scope for thought and inquiry; 
 the facts would not have been related 
 at all, and much less with such careful 
 accuracy, had they not been facts which 
 it was important for us to know; and 
 they would have been related, we may 
 venture to believe, more than once, had 
 not their single statement sufficed for 
 information and instruction. 
 
 That it was a young man, though no 
 clue is given to his name or condition ; 
 that he followed Christ, when his pro- 
 fessed disciples forsook him and fled ; 
 that he a v as clad in a linen cloth; that 
 his linen cloth was his only garment; 
 that he Was seized by the young men 
 who were hurrying 1 Jesus to the hi<di 
 priest; that, being thus seized, he strug- 
 
 i gled away, but left his garment behind — 
 these facts are all given with evident 
 carefulness of detail, the Evangelist ap- 
 pearing anxious that we should not pass 
 over the occurrence as though it were 
 unimportant, but should pause and con- 
 sider why it was permitted to happen, 
 or why, at least, it was directed to be 
 recorded. 
 
 Whatever is in any way connected 
 with the apprehension, trial, and cruci- 
 fixion of our blessed Redeemer, ought 
 to possess for us a special interest ; an 
 incident which we might have passed 
 over as of no great importance, had it 
 not been associated with such awful 
 transactions, acquires solemnity, and de- 
 mands attention, when found in that se- 
 ries of events, of which it is hard to say 
 whether it should most move our awe 
 or our gratitude. 
 
 We cannot, therefore, content our- 
 selves with a brief or cursory notice of 
 the circumstances related in our text. 
 We rather regard it as intended to be 
 made the subject of patient and prayer- 
 ful meditation, and as fraught with deep 
 
THE YOUNG MAN IN THE LINEN CLOTH. 
 
 and mystic significance. The facts, 
 though given, as we have seen, with 
 considerable detail, are abruptly intro- 
 duced, and as abruptly dismissed. The 
 young man is brought suddenly on the 
 scene: we are not informed whether he 
 was a disciple of Christ : there is no 
 mention of his motive in following Christ 
 at such a moment and in such a dress ; 
 so soon as he has escaped from the 
 crowd, not a word is added which might 
 assist us in conjecturing why the Evan- 
 gelist interrupted the course of his nar- 
 rative, to insert what seems to have so 
 little to do with the tragic story of our 
 Lord's closing scene. 
 
 This very abruptness, this very mys- 
 teriousness, should obtain for the facts 
 bur serious attention. We ought to be 
 convinced that what is so strangely in- 
 troduced was designed to arrest our 
 thoughts, and to reward the study of 
 which we might make it the subject. 
 Let us then, without further preface, 
 apply ourselves to the examination of 
 the facts which St. Mark sets before us 
 in the words of our text. As our blessed 
 Redeemer is being hurried from Geth- 
 semane to the palace of the high priest, 
 let us join ourselves to the crowd, and 
 endeavor to ascertain what there was to 
 deserve the being specially noted by the 
 sacred historian, in that Christ was fol- 
 lowed by a young man, with a linen 
 cloth cast about his naked body; that 
 this young man was seized on by the 
 rabble; and that "he left the linen cloth 
 and fled from them naked." 
 
 Now we will first glance at the more 
 ordinary comment which is put on the 
 facts, though with no purpose of recom- 
 mending it as in any sense satisfactory, 
 but rather that we may show it to be 
 vague and inadequate. You are to ob- 
 serve the point of time at which the facts 
 now before us occurred. Our Lord had 
 just passed through his fearful agony in 
 the garden,' when his sweat had been, as 
 it were, great drops of blood, and thrice 
 had He entreated, that, if it were pos- 
 sible, the cup might pass from Him. On 
 his returning a third time to his disci- 
 ples, who, notwithstanding the awful- 
 ness of the hour, had been overcome 
 with sleep, He was met by Judas, one 
 of the twelve, who had come accompa- 
 nied by a great multitude with swords 
 and staves to seize Him, and carry Him 
 before the high priest. Gethsemane was 
 
 at the foot of the Mount of Olives ; when, 
 therefore, Judas and his crew had seized 
 upon Christ, they had to pass through 
 the suburbs of the city, where any tu- 
 mult in the dead of the night may have 
 been most unusual, in order to reach the 
 high priest's palace. And the common 
 supposition is, that the young man, wa- 
 kened by the strange disturbance in the 
 street, had thrown a sheet round him, 
 as the first thing which came to hand ; 
 that he had then rushed down to inquire 
 the cause of the uproar; and that, hear- 
 ing of the apprehension of Jesus, whom 
 he must have known by report, or to 
 whom he may have been secretly at- 
 tached, he determined to follow, whe- 
 ther from curiosity or a better motive, 
 that he might see how the matter would 
 end. 
 
 But if this were all, it would really be 
 hard to say for what purpose, or with 
 what view, the facts have been recorded. 
 Admitting that all Scripture has been 
 written for our learning, it might not be 
 easy to understand what particular les- 
 sons were conveyed through the men- 
 tion of a young man who had been 
 roused from his sleep by a noise in the 
 street, who had not waited to dress him- 
 self before hurrying to find out what 
 occasioned the tumult, and who was 
 handled somewhat roughly by the crowd 
 with whom he had mixed in so strange 
 an attire. To say nothing of the many 
 improbabilities in the story as thus ex- 
 plained, for surely it was in the highest 
 degree improbable that any one would 
 have descended into the street in the 
 middle of the night, with nothing but a 
 sheet thrown round him; or, at all 
 events, that, if he had come to the door 
 in this dress, he would have thought of 
 following the crowd into the city with- 
 out waiting to put on some garment ; — 
 but passing by these improbabilities, 
 and allowing that we have nothing but 
 the account of a young man who did a 
 strange and foolish thing, what are we 
 the better for the narrative ? What 
 light does it throw on the concluding- 
 scenes of Christ's life? What informa- 
 tion, or what instruction, does it furnish 
 us in any way in keeping with the tre- 
 mendous occurrences which the Evan- 
 gelist had taken in hand to narrate 1 
 
 The commentators, indeed, remark 
 that the treatment which the young man 
 received, shows that the whole transac- 
 
THE YOUNG MAN IN THE LINEN CLOTH. 
 
 tion was conducted with extreme vio- 
 lence, and threfore serves to make it the 
 more memorable that the Apostles had 
 all been suffered to escape, and the more 
 evident that Christ had secretly and 
 powerfully influenced the minds of the 
 fierce rabble by whom He had been 
 seized. But we do not see that it can 
 fairly be said, on the explanation just 
 given of the occurrence in question, that 
 the crowd treated the young man with 
 any great violence : the best-humored 
 mob might lay hold of a person who 
 joined them in so strange an attire; and 
 his own fear, rather than their fury, mav 
 have occasioned his fleeing awav, and 
 leaving his garment behind. Had they 
 been set on doing him a mischief, they 
 might easily have prevented his escape. 
 Hence the common explanation of the 
 incidents before us, resolving them into 
 a mere working of curiosity on the part 
 of the young- man, and of ill-nature on 
 that of the crowd, can hardly be pro- 
 nounced other than utterly unsatisfac- 
 tory. It leaves the facts themselves 
 most improbable, and the reasons for 
 their having been related quite insuffi- 
 cient ; so that you must, we think, he 
 ready to acknowledge that there is good 
 ground for our searching for some deeper 
 interpretation, for our concluding that 
 the Evangelist designed to convey some 
 more important intimations than have 
 yet been derived, when he brought so 
 strangely into his story this unknown 
 young man, and as strangely dismissed 
 him — as though a spectre had suddenly 
 risen in the midst of the crowd, and then 
 had as suddenly disappeared. 
 
 But now let us examine more atten- 
 tively what the dress was which this 
 young man wore; we maybe thereby 
 enabled to form a more correct opinion 
 as to the occurrences under review. 
 You often meet with the mention of 
 linen in the New Testament ; but you 
 are not to think that, whenever the word 
 occurs in English, the same word occurs 
 in the Greek. For example, you read 
 of the rich man in the parable, that he 
 was "clothed in purple and line linen." 
 You read also, in the Book of Revela- 
 tion, that it was granted unto the Lamb's 
 wife, "that she should be arrayed in 
 fine linen, clean and white, for the fine 
 linen is the righteousness of saints." 
 But the linen spoken of in these cases 
 is defined in the original by a totally 
 
 different word from that used in our 
 text. Indeed, the word used in our 
 text occurs but seldom in the New Tes- 
 tament, and, what is very remarkable, 
 in every other place in which it occurs, 
 it relates to the garment which it was 
 then customary to wrap round the dead. 
 '• When Joseph had taken the body, he 
 wrapped it in a clean linen cloth ;" — in 
 a clean sindon, for that is the word, — 
 or, as we should probably have said, in 
 a clean shroud. 11ms again, it is said 
 by St. Mark, in regard of Joseph of 
 Arhnathea, and the body of our Lord, 
 '•he bought fine linen, and took him 
 down, and wrapped him in the linen." 
 Here the use of the words "line linen" 
 at one moment, and immediately after- 
 wards of the single word "linen," might 
 lead you to suppose a difference in the 
 original expression-;. But there is no 
 difference. " He bought the sindon, 
 and took him down, and wrapped him 
 in the sindon."' >St. Luke has the same 
 word in reference to the same circum- 
 stance. " He took it down, wrapped it 
 in linen, and laid it in a sepulchre that 
 was hewn in stone." But we believe 
 there is no other place in which the 
 word occurs in the Greek Testament; 
 so that, excepting the instance of our 
 text, the Evangelists use the word to 
 express only the particular garment in 
 which it was then usual to enfold the 
 bodies of die dead. 
 
 Now we do not wish you to conclude 
 from this, that the word was never em- 
 ployed but of the raiment of the dead — 
 for such was not the fact; but that it 
 was employed to denote a particular- 
 kind of garment, and would not be used 
 of any covering - which a man might 
 throw over him, just because the cover- 
 ing happened to be of linen. If a man, 
 starting from his sleep, had cast a sheet 
 round him, he would not on that account 
 have been said to have been clad in the 
 sindon. In fact, the sindon — and it 
 probably took its name from the city of 
 Sidon, the Sidonians h iving invented the 
 art of weaving this kind of clothing — 
 was a cloak, made of linen, which was 
 frequently worn in Jerusalem, and es- 
 pecially in summer. But besides serving 
 as a covering to the body, the sindon 
 was turned to a religious account. It 
 was to this cloak that the scrupulous 
 observers of the law were accustomed 
 to fasten those fringes of which you 
 
6 
 
 THE YOUNG MAN IN THE LINEN CLOTH. 
 
 read in the Book of Numbers. " Speak 
 unto the children of Israel, and bid them 
 that they make them fringes in the bor- 
 ders of their garments throughout their 
 generations, and that they'put upon the 
 fringe of the borders a ribband of blue." 
 With this sindon also it was that the 
 Jews commonly covered their heads 
 when they prayed. Hence, whilst any 
 one might wear the sindon, merely as 
 an ordinary garment, others might wear 
 it by way of religions distinction; that 
 is, they might wear it in such a manner, 
 or with such peculiarity, as to make it 
 indicative of special strictness, of a rigid 
 adherence to the law of God, or the tra- 
 ditions of the elders. 
 
 And this latter would appear to have 
 been the case with the young man of 
 whom we read in our text. It is ex- 
 pressly noted by the Evangelist, that 
 this young man had the sindon "cast 
 about his naked body." He had noth- 
 ing on except the sindon. And this 
 was not usual. The sindon was com- 
 monly used for an outer garment — it 
 was worn, that is, over some other. But 
 thei - e were many amongst the Jews who 
 affected great austerity, devotees who 
 attracted attention by extreme self-de- 
 nial in diet and dress. Josephus de- 
 scribes himself as having spent much of 
 his youth in the austerities enjoined by 
 different sects, and mentions his living 
 for three years in the wilderness with 
 an enthusiast, who would wear no gar- 
 ment but what was made of the leaves 
 or bark of trees, and would eat no food 
 but what grew of its own accord. What 
 then seems more likely, if you throw 
 together the several considerations thus 
 advanced, than that the young man who 
 followed Christ was a devotee, a person 
 that assumed a peculiar sanct'ty of de- 
 portment, and who, therefore, wore only 
 the sindon, whilst others used a double 
 garment, that he might show greater 
 contempt for the body, and more rigor- 
 ous habits of self-mortification ( 
 
 There is no reason for supposing him 
 to have been a disciple of Christ; in all 
 probability he was not; but he was one 
 of those Jews who practised great aus- 
 terities, and whose dre s .. is meant to 
 indicate a claim or pretension to exira- 
 ordinary holiness of life. Neither is it 
 to be concluded that he had jusl been 
 roused from his sleep, and had hurried 
 down as one eager to know the cause 
 
 of the tumult ; it is as likely that he may 
 have been with the crowd from the first; 
 yea, he may have been as inveterate as 
 any of the rest against Christ: for he 
 may have been a hypocrite as well as a 
 devotee; and the pretender to great 
 holiness will be sure to hate the actual 
 possessor. 
 
 But, upon this supposition, what are 
 we to say to the conduct of the multi- 
 tude l why did the mob fall on the young 
 man, and handle him so roughly t We 
 gave, as a great reason for rejecting the 
 ordinary explanation of the narrative, 
 that it threw no light on the series of 
 events which the Evangelist had taken 
 in hand to relate, that it left us with no 
 sufficient account why he interrupted 
 the sad tale of the sufferings of Christ. 
 But we may make a very different state- 
 ment in regard to the present supposi- 
 tion, which sets before us the young 
 man as a religious devotee, and as known 
 to be such by the garment which he 
 wore. From the manner in which the 
 multitude treated the assumption or ap- 
 pearance of extraordinary holiness, we 
 may learn something of the temper by 
 which they were actuated, and thus be 
 guided to right conclusions in regard to 
 their hatred of Christ. 
 
 It was, we believe, a religious hatred, 
 a hatred, we mean, on religious grounds, 
 or on account of religion, which moved 
 the great body of the Jews against the 
 blessed Redeemer. It is easy o speak 
 of the political feeling, of the disap- 
 pointment experienced when Christ 
 gave them no hope of setting up a tem- 
 poral kingdom, and 'advancing them to 
 sovereignly over their ha ghty oppres- 
 sors. And no doul • tica] feel- 
 ing had its play; in many there may 
 have been a.<f>^ red res tlution, thatthey 
 would rather have no - : i than one 
 not likely to fulfil their dream of na- 
 tional supremacy. For 1 it would seem, 
 though it be an awful thing to say, that 
 Christ was rejected by many, not in 
 disbelief of his being the Messiah, but 
 in spite of a thorough conviction that 
 He was. The parable of the wicked 
 husbandmen implies as much as this. 
 ■• When the husbandman saw the son, 
 they said among themselves, This is the 
 heir : come, let us kill him, and let us 
 eize on his in eritance." They dis- 
 tinctly knew the son, you observe ; they 
 do not act under any mistake, any false 
 
THE YOUNG MAN IN THE LINEN CLOTH. 
 
 impression, as to his person ; and they 
 deliberately proceed to kill him, he- 
 cause he is the son, because be is the 
 heir, and, as such, in the way of their 
 covetous or ambitious designs. But in 
 regard of the great mass of the Jews, 
 it is hardly to be thought that it was the 
 feeling of political disappointment which 
 made them so bitter and malignant 
 against Christ. On mere political 
 grounds our Lord, after all, was such a 
 leader as might have well suited the 
 people. He could heal all their dis- 
 eases, He could sustain them in the 
 wilderness ; He had the mastery over 
 evil spirits ; and their natural impulse 
 must have been, not to reject a leader 
 thus endowed, because He showed dis- 
 inclination to assuming the depoitment 
 of a king, but rather to make Him a 
 king' in spite of Himself, and then see 
 whether He would not wield his powers 
 in advancing them to greatness. 
 
 But the galling thing, the thing most 
 keenly felt by all classes of the Jews, 
 was the holiness of our Lord : He did 
 not suit them as a leader, because He 
 would make no truce with their evil 
 passions, and allow no indulgence to 
 their lusts. Had He made greater al- 
 lowance for human frailty, had He not 
 so expanded the morality of the law as 
 to make it denounce the adultery of a 
 look, and the murder of a thought, 
 many, both in earlier days and in later, 
 would have given Him their adherence, 
 and have become his disciples. The 
 main cause of irritation and dislike has 
 all along been the same; it is in active 
 play now, and came into play so soon 
 as it was seen that Christ displayed, and 
 demanded, the strictest purity of action, 
 and word, and thought ; if Christianity 
 would but be a little more indulgent to 
 men's vices, it would quickly carry their 
 votes. 
 
 But if it were a dislike of Christ, as 
 an uncompromising teacher of holiness, 
 which chiefly moved, or actuated the 
 multitude, we may naturally look to find 
 some exhibition of the fact in their con- 
 duct ; not indeed, any open declaration 
 — for the worst will hardly confess that 
 it is goodness which they hate — but 
 some ebullition of temper, which shall 
 give the same witness, though not 
 equally direct. 
 
 And this we have in the narrative of 
 our text. A young man is seen in the 
 
 crowd, whose dress lays claim to spe- 
 cial strictness and sanctity of life. Then 
 forthwith breaks out the real feeling of 
 the crowd. They seize the occasion of 
 giving vent to that bitter animosity at 
 holiness, which was really, if not con- 
 fessedly, the producing cause of their 
 persecution of Jesus. They jostle this 
 young man ; they lay hold on him ; they 
 strip him of the garment which passed 
 as a sign of devotedness to religion ; 
 and thus they plainly showed by what 
 spirit they were actuated, or put be- 
 yond doubt the motives which chiefly 
 urged them to their murderous design. 
 Thirsting for Christ's blood, because 
 He had reproved vice, and required 
 righteousness, they could not tolerate 
 amongst them even the appearance of 
 superior holiness. The young man pre- 
 sented that appearance, and therefore 
 they turned upon him, as hounds upon 
 their prey, and forced him to escape 
 naked for his life. 
 
 And we cannot forbear from pointing 
 out to you how naturally, on this suppo- 
 sition, each part of St. Mark's narrative 
 follows on the other. On being seized 
 b^ the multitude, " Jesus answered and 
 said unto them, Are ye come out as 
 against a thief, with swords and staves, 
 to take me ? I was daily with you in 
 the temple teaching, and ye took me 
 not ; but the Scripture must be fulfill- 
 ed." What effect was this reference to 
 his teaching likely to produce upon the 
 multitude 1 That teaching had had for 
 its main object the inculcation of ri°ht- 
 eousness of life, the abandonment of 
 every form and working of iniquity. 
 And on this account, as we now sup- 
 pose, the teaching had been distasteful, 
 and had excited the animosity of the 
 people. Hence an allusion to the teach- 
 ing was likely to irritate the mob ; and 
 we may believe them to have been all 
 the more furious, when Christ had re- 
 minded them of his discourses in the 
 temple. Then follow- the words, " And 
 they all forsook him and fled." The 
 disciples, seeing the irritated state of 
 the rabble, were afraid to remain any 
 longer near their master, and betook 
 themselves to flight. Then immediate- 
 ly comes the account in our text, and 
 how naturally it comes, in what close 
 keeping with what had preceded. The 
 multitude, infuriated at being reminded 
 of what Christ had taught them, would 
 
8 
 
 THE YOUNG MAN IN THE LINEN CLOTH. 
 
 have fallen on the disciples ; but the 
 disciples had escaped : on whom tin m 
 shall the mob wreak its malice: and 
 spite'/ The Evangelist proceeds to tell 
 us — and nothing could more show the 
 feeling, the temper of the crowd; no- 
 thing could more distinctly inform us 
 of a tact, of which it is important that 
 we be assured, that the main producing 
 cause of the hatred shown to Christ 
 was the holiness of his life, and the pu- 
 rity of his doctrine — the Evangelist pro- 
 ceeds to tell us that there was a young 
 man following Christ, whose dress in- 
 dicated pretensions to extraordinary 
 sanctity; and that the multitude 'seized 
 on this young man, so that he was forced, 
 by their violence, to leave the linen cloth 
 with which he was clad, and to flee 
 away from them naked. 
 
 Now this is so far a sufficient expla- 
 nation of the occurrence before us, that 
 it makes the dress of the young man 
 give a clue to his character, that it ac- 
 counts for the treatment which he re- 
 ceived from the mob, and that it throws 
 lirrht on the reasons which moved the 
 Jews to the rejection of Christ. But, 
 nevertheless, we believe that a yet deep- 
 er meaning attaches to the incidents in 
 question ; that these incidents were 
 symbolical or figurative : in other words, 
 that they were designed to shadow forth 
 the facts of our Redeemer's final tri- 
 umph over death. 
 
 Let us refer for a moment to the or- 
 dinances which have respect to the great 
 day of atonement, that day of especial 
 solemnity under the legal dispensation, 
 when expiation was made for the sins 
 of the people. On that day the pre- 
 scription of the law was, that the high 
 priest should take two goats, and pre- 
 sent them before the Lord at the door 
 of the tabernacle of the congregation. 
 One of these goats he was to kill as a 
 sin-offering, to bring its blood within the 
 vail, and " sprinkle it upon the mercy- 
 seat, and before the mercy-seat." I Ipoc 
 the head of the other he was to lay 
 both his hands, confessing " over him 
 all the iniquities of the children of Is- 
 rael, and all their transgressions in all 
 their sins, putting them upon the head of 
 the goat ;" and the goat, thus burden- 
 ed with the guiltiness of the congre- 
 gation, was to be let go into the wilder- 
 ness, into " a land not inhabited." 
 
 There is no debate that these goats, 
 
 taken together, constituted a type of 
 the lieueemer. So vast was his office, 
 so wondrous his work, that figures had 
 to be doubled, ere they could furnish 
 any thing like a sufficient representa- 
 tion. In the goat that was slain, we 
 have the Redeemer presenting Himself 
 as a sin offering unto Cod, sheddinsrthe 
 precious blood which was to be carried 
 within the vail, that intercession might 
 be made, throughout all time, for the 
 Church. In the goat that was sent 
 alive into the wilderness, bearing away 
 all the iniquities of the people, we have 
 the Redeemer risen from the grave, and 
 effecting the thorough justification of 
 all who should believe on his name, their 
 sins being so rem wed, or borne to an 
 uninhabited land, that, though searched 
 for, they may not be found. It is evi- 
 dent that one goat would not have been 
 an adequate type, seeing that the Mes- 
 siah had to be represented, not only as 
 " delivered for our offences," but as 
 " raised again for our justification." But 
 the two goats furnished a sufficient and 
 accurate figure; the one having heen 
 significant of our Lord as offered on 
 the cross, the other as returning from 
 the grave : so that, together, they shad- 
 owed out the sacrifice presented, the 
 acceptance of. the sacrifice, and its jrre- 
 valence as a propitiation for the sins of 
 the world. 
 
 But now was it not in a measure to 
 be expected, that, when the time came 
 which the great day of atonement had 
 all along prefigured, there would be 
 something to remind men of the double 
 type 1 something, at least, to assure the 
 devout Jew, who should look sorrow- 
 ingly upon Christ led away as the goat 
 to the slaughter, that he would yet be- 
 hold in him the live goat, escaping to a 
 far land, and bearing into forgetfulness 
 the sins of the people { And with what 
 precision was the double type embodi- 
 ed, if you observe that the crowd, with 
 J udas at their head, lay hold not only 
 upon Jesus, but on the young man who 
 followed him, clothed in tin; sindon, the 
 linen garment that was usually wrapped 
 round the dead! We have shown you, 
 that, except in describing the dress of 
 this young man, the Evangelists no- 
 where mention the sindon 'but where 
 they have to speak of the raiment in 
 which Christ was consigned to the 
 grave. This is surely very remarkable : 
 
THE YOUNG MAN IN THE LINEN CLOTH. 
 
 it is as though to force us to connect in 
 some way the appearance, the mysteri- 
 ous appearance, of the young- man so 
 strangely attired, with the burial of 
 Christ ; to compel us to assign it a pro- 
 phetic or typical character, in place of 
 passing it over as an incident from which 
 little can be learned. As Christ is led 
 to trial, and, therefore, virtually, to cru- 
 cifixion. He is followed by a young 
 man having nothing on his naked body 
 but the vesture in which, after having 
 been crucified, Christ would be laid by 
 Joseph in the tomb. The same parties 
 who have seized Christ, lay hold on this 
 young man, and try to detain him. But 
 though he is but one against a multitude, 
 he escapes from their hands — he es- 
 capes ; but he escapes naked, leaving 
 the grave-clothes behind him. Is not 
 this Christ, who, when He had put on 
 the grave-clothes, was not to be kept in 
 the grave by all the malice and power 
 of His enemies ; but who sprang from 
 the grasp of the tomb, leaving in it the 
 raiment in which He had been bound 
 up for burial ! 
 
 So then, just as, on the great day of 
 atonement, in looking at the two goats 
 held by the high priest, you looked on 
 an accurate exhibition of the two grand 
 facts, that Christ died for our sins, and 
 that he rose for our justification ; so, in 
 now looking upon Jesus led to the 
 slaughter, and at the same moment upon 
 the young man fleeing away naked, you 
 may be said to take in at one glance, the 
 tragedy of the crucifixion, and the tri- 
 umph of the resurrection. The young 
 man is brought upon the scene clothed 
 as an inhabitant of the grave, that there 
 might be a filling up of the picture 
 which would otherwise have presented 
 nothing but the dark lines of death — a 
 filling it up with the wondrous exhibi- 
 tion of that very person, who was now 
 being hurried to an ignominious end, 
 breaking loose from the hold even of 
 the sepulchre itself, leaving evidence 
 behind, in "the linen clothes laid by 
 themselves," of his having spoiled death 
 of its sting, and the grave of its victory. 
 I do not know how, to a mind fraught 
 with the typical instruction of the great 
 day of atonement, there coidd have been 
 more beautiful or appropriate manifes- 
 tations of the truth, that Christ would 
 quickly rise, and, in rising, perfect the 
 justification of his Church. I know not 
 
 whether there were any who decipher- 
 ed, and made use of the manifestation. 
 But it is easy to imagine, and instruc- 
 tive to suppose, that some studied the 
 incidents, and drew from them the pur- 
 posed intelligence. There may have 
 been in the crowd a devout and aged 
 Jew, like Simeon, who had long been 
 diligent in the services of the Temple, 
 searching in those services for notices 
 of the scheme of redemption, for types 
 or figures of the deliverance promised, 
 from the earliest time, to the fallen race 
 of men. And such a Jew would natu- 
 rally have given his special study to the 
 solemnities of the great day of atone- 
 ment. These solemnities, more than 
 any other, would have made pass before 
 him, in fearful procession, the dark, yet 
 glorious, things of the Messiah's endur- 
 ances and achievements. And now he 
 holds with himself an engrossing debate, 
 as to whether The being, who had 
 wrought so many wonders, but is now 
 in the hands of bloodthirsty persecutors, 
 can indeed be the Clmst so long, and so 
 ardently expected. There is nothing 
 in his being led to the slaughter, to per- 
 suade him that He cannot be the Christ : 
 he remembei's the slaying of the goat for 
 a sin-offering, and feels that without 
 shedding of blood can be no remission. 
 But then he also remembers, that side 
 by side with the goat for a sin-offering, 
 used to stand a goat on which death 
 might not pass — the typical exhibition 
 thus cheering the worshipper with the 
 certainty that the sin-offering would suf- 
 fice, that the victim, substituted in his 
 stead, would re-appear after death, and 
 prevail, in the largest sense, to the re- 
 moving all his guilt. O for something 
 of the like double representation, if this 
 indeed be the victim appointed of God 
 for the redemption of the world ! O 
 for something to correspond to the goat 
 escaping as well as to the goat dying ! 
 The wish is granted. Close by the 
 Lord Jesus, clad in raiment which might 
 seem to indicate an inhabitant of the 
 grave, stands a young man, fixing atten- 
 tion by the strangeness of his attire. As 
 the devout Jew gazes on this figure, 
 hardly knowing whether it belong to 
 the living or the dead, he sees him seiz- 
 ed by the very parties who are leading 
 away Christ. Ah, the two goats are 
 now in the hands of the sacrificers, but 
 will neither escape 1 will the typical 
 2 
 
10 
 
 THE YOUNG MAN IN THE LINEN CLOTH. 
 
 representation not find itself verified ? 
 It is a moment of intense anxiety. But 
 all doubt should disappear, there should 
 be nothing but conviction that Jesus, 
 though He must die, would rise from 
 the dead, rise as a conqueror, rise as a 
 justifier, when the seeming inhabitant of 
 the tomb bursts from those that would 
 detain him, leaves the liuen cloth, and 
 flees away naked. 
 
 And thus the incident which has en- 
 gaged our attention, is made to fill an 
 important place as symbolical, or pro- 
 phetic, of Christ's triumph over his en- 
 emies. It comes in at the very moment 
 wh^ii it must have been most needed, 
 when faith was put to its. sorest trial, 
 the Redeemer appearing to have fallen 
 finally into the hands of the powers of 
 darkness. It was, as we have seen, 
 most strikingly significative of Christ's 
 return from the "rave — significative, 
 moreover, through an exactness of cor- 
 respondence with the types of the law : 
 so that it addressed itself especially to 
 those, who, conversant with the figures 
 of the Mosaic dispensation, justly looked 
 to find answerable realities in the actions 
 and endurances of the promised Messiah. 
 I look on this spectre-like figure, this 
 scarcely earthly form habited in grave- 
 clothes, as I would upon a prophet, mys- 
 teriously raised up to utter a prediction, 
 at the moment when the prediction was 
 most needed, and in the language which 
 would be best understood by the hear- 
 ers ; a prediction of the resurrection of 
 Jesus; a prediction, therefore, whose 
 tenor was most nicely adapted to cheer 
 his dispirited followers, and which, as 
 being woven out of the symbols of the 
 law, could hardly fail to carry with it 
 its interpretation to those whom it ad- 
 dressed. 
 
 And on this view of the occurrence, 
 there is something, we think, very mem- 
 orable, in the order already mentioned, 
 in which the Evangelist has catalogued 
 events. It is immediately after the 
 statement, "and they all forsook him 
 and fled," that St. Mark gives the ac- 
 count of the young man's seizure and 
 escape. Why had the disciples thus 
 abandoned and lied from their Master, 
 except thai his apprehension by his en- 
 emies, and the apparent certainty of his 
 being put to death, seemed to them de- 
 structive of all hope of his working out 
 their deliverance, and proving Himself 
 
 the Messiah that was to reign over Is- 
 rael '. They took fright at the first out- 
 break of violence, so soon as there was 
 any symptom of Christ's yielding to the 
 wicked : whereas if they would but 
 manfully have stood their ground a little 
 while, they might have been strengthen- 
 ed by a revelation from above, and have 
 learned to brave the ignominy of a mo- 
 ment's defeat, in the certainty of an ever- 
 lasting triumph. For no sooner had 
 they yielded to unbelief and cowardice, 
 and forsaken their Lord, than there hap- 
 pened that significative occurrence on 
 which we have been speaking, and 
 which portrayed so powerfully, in fig- 
 ures corresponding to those of the law, 
 that He who died for their offences would 
 rise for their justification. They just 
 missed, you see, the delivery of a most 
 expressive and intelligible prophecy, 
 the effect of which could hardly fail to 
 have been the reassuring of their minds, 
 and the arming them with confidence 
 and hope for that season of affliction 
 through which they had to pass. Oh, 
 how often with ourselves may there be 
 something of the like missing, as by a 
 moment or a hairbreadth, of a gracious 
 communication which would scatter our 
 doubts, disperse our fears, and fill us 
 with joyful expectation. We are so im- 
 patient, so little disposed to "wait upon 
 the Lord," so ready to take to flight the 
 instant an enemy conies in view, that 
 often, very often it may be, we yield to 
 despair, and give up all for lost, exactly 
 when a little perseverance would have 
 put us in possession of such manifesta- 
 tions of God's purpose as could hardly 
 have failed to nerve for conflict, or 
 strengthen for endurance. We forsake 
 Christ, because He is in the hands of his 
 enemies ; when, if we would but hold 
 by Him a while longer, God would show 
 us Christ triumphing, leaving nothing 
 but the linen-cloth in the grasp of his 
 enemies, evidence of their utter defeat, 
 and his glorious escape. 
 
 Let us take this le-son from the sym- 
 bolical occurrence which has been under 
 review — a lesion as to perseverance in 
 duty, though in the face of dangers and 
 difficulties. The Supplies of ( rod's i;race 
 are to be expected in the way of God's 
 commands. The duty of the disciples 
 was to have kepi close to Christ : had 
 they done this, God, as we now see, had 
 prepared for them a typical revelation, 
 
THE FIRE ON THE SHORE. 
 
 11 
 
 most nicely adapted to their confirmation 
 ;ind comfort : whereas, by shrinking 
 from Christ, they lost the disclosure. 
 and were punished by being left in dark- 
 ness send dismay. In religion, as in war, 
 there is nothing gained by cowardice : 
 he who turns his back upon the enemy, 
 and rlees from the field, may indeed 
 seem to have his life as his reward ; but 
 he might perhaps have had both his life 
 and his honor had he stood to his colors ; 
 and, unable ever after to lift up his head, 
 he had better have laid it at once amongst 
 the heaps of the slain. 
 
 And in religion, if not in war, there 
 is certainty, that if we persevere, we 
 shall meet succors ; if we retreat, retreat 
 on worse dangers than we seek to avoid. 
 
 Persevere then in every duty without 
 regard to the discouragement : the next 
 onward step may bring you into com- 
 parative light ; the least backward is 
 sure to land you in thicker darkness. 
 Ah, learn from the disciples : hastily for- 
 saking Chi-isf, they fled to mourn over 
 disappointed hopes, over a leader in 
 whom they could no longer trust, be- 
 cause He was Himself the prey of the 
 wicked, " a very scorn and outcast : " 
 but, had they kept firmly for a few mo- 
 ments longer at his side, they might have 
 been confident, even whilst He hung on 
 the cross, assured of finding his grave 
 deserted, but with the linen cloth in it 
 to prove that He was risen. 
 
 SERMON II. 
 
 THE FTRE ON THE SHORE. 
 
 " As soon then as they were come to land, they saw a fire of coals there, and fish laid thereon and bread. Jesus 
 saith unto them, Bring of the fish which ye have now caught." — St. John, xxi. 9, 10. 
 
 These words form part of the account 
 of what St. John speaks of as Christ's 
 third manifestation of Himself " to his 
 disciples after that he was risen from 
 the dead." The most careless reader, 
 perhaps, can hardly peruse the words, 
 without feeling that thez-e is something 
 strange and mysterious in what they 
 state. How came this fire of coals on 
 this lonely shore 1 Who kindled it 1 
 Who laid out the provision, the fish, and 
 the bread I If, as we can scarcely doubt, 
 there were something symbolical or sig- 
 nificative, in what thus met the disciples' 
 view so soon as they were come to land, 
 what are the truths, what the lessons, 
 that were figuratively conveyed ( 
 
 We have a great and difficult subject 
 of discourse before us. We must pro- 
 ceed with caution, we must proceed 
 
 with prayer : the inspired historian adds 
 no explanation ; he gives nothing but 
 the facts ; but the facts would not have 
 been written, except for our admonition 
 and instruction : we are, therefore, to 
 study them with all care, but at the same 
 time, in simple dependence on the teach- 
 ing of the Holy Spirit, through which 
 alone can the dark things of Scripture 
 be made clear, and the intricate plain. 
 
 Let us begin with looking attentively 
 at the foregoing part', of the narrative : 
 these may greatly assist to a right un- 
 derstanding of the facts upon which we 
 are specially to comment. 
 
 The chapter before us opens with the 
 mention of the assembling of seven of 
 our Lord's disciples on the coast of the 
 Sea of Tiberias. The solemn interview 
 which Christ had promised to grant to 
 
12 
 
 THE FIRE ON THE SHORE. 
 
 his followers on the mountain in Galilee 
 appears not to have yet taken place ; 
 we may suppose that the disciples were 
 waiting for the commission which they 
 were then to receive : in the mean time 
 they were at liberty, and, perhaps, even 
 necessitated by want, to pursue their 
 original occupations. Under these cir- 
 cumstances, St. Peter tells the other dis- 
 ci pies of his intention of going a-fishing. 
 They agree to accompany him : the se- 
 ven embark together, and spend the 
 night in fruitless toil, for they caught 
 nothing. But when the morning came, 
 there stood on the shore, one, at least, 
 whom the disciples did not recognize, 
 though it was none other than the risen 
 Christ Himself. The boat being at no 
 great distance from the shore, Christ 
 could speak to the disciples ; and He 
 accordingly inquired of them whether 
 they had any meat ] On their answer- 
 ing, No, He directed them to cast the 
 net on the right side of the ship, and as- 
 sured them they should find. 
 
 Though the disciples did not recog- 
 nize their Master, there must have been 
 something in the air and appearance of 
 the speaker, which commanded their at- 
 tention, and, perhaps, caused them to 
 suspect who it was ; otherwise they 
 would hardly have been prompt to obey 
 a command which, after toiling all night 
 m vain, they might have been disposed 
 to consider as uttered either in hnio- 
 ranee or presumption. They however 
 cast the net without hesitation, and im- 
 mediately enclosed so great a multitude 
 of fishes, that they were unable to draw 
 it. This miracle — for they could scarce- 
 ly fail at once to regard as miraculous, 
 so sudden and large a draught of fishes, 
 occurring at the moment when they 
 were about to give up in despair — sug- 
 gested that the stranger on the shore 
 must be Jesus Himself; the miracle, in- 
 dependently of its wonderfulness, was 
 so similar in its nature and circumstan- 
 ces to that which had preceded the 
 calling of Peter, that the dullest must 
 have entertained a suspicion, if not a 
 conviction, of the presence of the Sa- 
 vior. 
 
 But it was the disciple whom Jesus 
 loved — for affection is quicksighted — 
 who first satisfied himself as to its being 
 the Lord; and on his telling this to Pe- 
 ter, that impetuous* but ardent disciple 
 threw himself into the sea, that he might 
 
 hasten to the Master whom he had late- 
 ly so fiercely denied, but to whom he 
 now longed to give proof of a devotcd- 
 ness increased by the remembrance of 
 his fall, and the graciousness of his for- 
 giveness. The other disciples, acting 
 with less vehemence, but equally desir- 
 ing to be with their Lord, proceeded to- 
 wards the land in their ship, dragging 
 with them the net and its ponderous en- 
 closure. And then it was, on their all 
 reaching the shore — perhaps much at 
 the same moment ; for Peter, in his im- 
 petuousness, may not have outstripped 
 his brethren who took a more ordinary 
 way of approaching their Lord — then it 
 was that they found what is described 
 in the text, the fire of coals, and provi- 
 sion for a repast. 
 
 The fire could hardly have been kin- 
 dled by themselves over-night; they had 
 been absent many hours, and what they 
 had lighted would have been extinguish- 
 ed. They appear, moreover, to have 
 gone a-fishing from being in want of pro- 
 vision ; at all events, they would hardly 
 have left fish behind them on the shore ; 
 or, if they had, the fish which now stood 
 ready for their meal could not have been 
 that which their own hands had placed 
 on the coals : the supposition is prepos- 
 terous, that they had lighted the fire be- 
 fore embarking, and laid fish upon it to 
 cook whilst they were absent on the sea. 
 
 Besides, there is something peculiar 
 in the way in which St. John mentions 
 the fire and the provision. He is par- 
 ticular in noting that it was " as soon as 
 they were come to laud " that the dis- 
 ciples saw this fire of coals. It was the 
 first object which met their eye on land- 
 ing. There would have been nothing to 
 mention, had this fire been only what 
 they had themselves kindled over-night. 
 And we may believe that the Evangelist 
 is so careful in pointing out that the fire 
 was seen at the instant of reaching the 
 shoi'e, on purpose to make us under- 
 stand that the disciples did not light it 
 after they landed, and that neither did 
 they stir tip the embers of the day before. 
 You might have expected that the dis- 
 ciples would have been so engrossed 
 with looking at their risen Master as to 
 have had no eye for any other object. 
 Neither would they have had, we may 
 venture to believe, unless fur something 
 startling and mysterious. But that 
 strange lire, kindled, as they may have 
 
THE FIRE ON THE SHORE. 
 
 13 
 
 felt, by invisible hands, seems to have 
 drawn off their attention even from 
 Christ": it fixed their gaze as tliey set 
 foot upon the shore, ami, perhaps, like 
 the burning-bush with Moses, helped to 
 persuade them of the actual presence of 
 Divinity. 
 
 And now you will observe, that, 
 though there was all the material for a 
 repast — angels, or the Redeemer Him- 
 self, having in their absence made ready 
 the fish and the bread — Christ does not 
 forthwith invite them to dine, but first of 
 all — this is a very significant circum- 
 stance — directs them to bring of the fish 
 which they had caught. Neither was 
 tins direction complied with in haste, a 
 hand being thrust into the net, and some 
 of the rich store transferred to the coals ; 
 there appears, on the contrary, to have 
 been great deliberation : the net was 
 drawn to land ; the fish were counted, 
 and found to be in number one hundred 
 and fifty and three; and it was not till 
 this had been done, and then, as we may 
 conjecture, some of the newly-caught 
 fish had been dressed, in addition to 
 those already prepared, that our Lord 
 bade his disciples partake of the meal 
 provided for them by his supernatural 
 power. 
 
 Such arc the main circumstances of 
 the narrative. You cannot fail to be 
 impressed with the sense as of some- 
 thing strange and unearthly. You feel 
 that, like Moses in Horeb, you must put 
 off the shoes from your feet, ere you pre- 
 sume to approach the mysterious fire 
 which seems to have been kindled in a 
 moment ; for the disciples saw it not till 
 they had set foot upon the shore, though 
 you might have expected it to have been 
 visible during the night ; come then, and 
 let it be with all awe and humility, but 
 nevertheless in the hope of instruction 
 and comfort, that we gather with the 
 disciples round this fire of coals, and en- 
 deavor to decipher the symbolical les- 
 sons which the whole transaction may 
 have been designed to convey. 
 
 Now there are one or two supposi- 
 tions which will present themselves to a 
 thoughtful mind, and which deserve a 
 passing notice, though they may be evi- 
 dently incommensurate with the facts 
 of the case. It may readily occur to you 
 as one explanation of the kindled fire, 
 and prepared repast, that Christ had 
 been thinking kindly of his wearied and 
 
 hungry disciples ; that, knowing how 
 they had spent the night, and how much 
 they would be in need of refreshment, 
 He had graciously employed his power 
 in making ready a meal, where, had 
 they been left to themselves, they would 
 have been utterly destitute. We need 
 not exclude this explanation. We may 
 believe that it was part of the purpose 
 of our gracious and compassionate Lord, 
 to supply the bodily wants of his fol- 
 lowers, to provide lire to warm them, 
 and food to satisfy them. But there is 
 too much reason for regarding the mi- 
 raculous draught of fishes, like every 
 other miracle, as designed to serve for a 
 parable, to allow of our being content 
 with an interpretation of the text which 
 woidd strip it of all figure, and reduce 
 it into a mere evidence of the tender 
 consideration of Chiast for his people. 
 
 There is another explanation which 
 mav suggest itself, and which makes the 
 whole transaction refer especially to St. 
 Peter. It would certainly seem as if 
 one great object of this manifestation of 
 Christ, had been the publicly restoring 
 to the Apostleship the disciple who had 
 so shamefully denied Him, but whose 
 repentance had been as bitter as his of- 
 fence had been flagrant. You will re- 
 member, that, so soon as the dinner was 
 over, Christ addressed Peter with the 
 question, " Simon, son of Jonas, lovest 
 thou me, more than these .' " And when 
 Peter had replied, " Yea, Lord, thou 
 knowest that 1 love thee," Christ said 
 unto him, " Feed my lambs." This 
 was, as it were, the reinvesting Peter 
 with the pastoral office, of which he 
 might justly be thought to have stripped 
 himself, when he basely, and with an 
 oath, declared that he belonged not to 
 Christ. But Peter denied his Master 
 thrice ; and thrice did Christ now pro- 
 pose the same question ; and, receiving 
 the same answer, thrice did He deliver 
 the same charge of feeding the flock. As 
 if Peter had thrice lost the Apostleship, 
 by thrice denying Christ, Christ thrice 
 restored to him the office, that he him- 
 self, and the other Apostles, might have 
 no doubt as to his having been forgiven, 
 and, as it were, reordained. And when 
 our Lord had thus publicly reinvested 
 Peter with the Apostleship, he pro- 
 ceeded to prophesy "by what death he 
 should glorify God ; " so that almost the 
 whole of this interview, as far as it is 
 
14 
 
 THE FIRE ON THE SHORE. 
 
 recorded by the Evangelist, was occu- 
 pied with matters personal to St. Peter, 
 as though it had been on his account, or 
 for his sake, that Christ showed Him- 
 self the third time to his disciples. 
 
 But how does the mode, or character 
 of the manifestation agree with the sup- 
 position of its having been granted with 
 an especial view to St. Peter, to his 
 public reinvestment with the pastoral 
 office l Most accurately ; for when Si- 
 mon Peter was first called by Christ, 
 called that is, — for there had been pre- 
 vious intercourse, — to forsake his world- 
 ly occupation, and devote himself to the 
 preaching of the Gospel, Christ wrought, 
 as you will remember, a miracle precise- 
 ly similar, in its nature and circumstan- 
 ces, to that recorded in the narrative 
 which we have under review. Simon 
 Peter, and his partners, were then in a 
 ship on the sea of Gennesareth. They 
 had then toiled all night, and taken no 
 fish. At the bidding of Christ, they then 
 also let down the net ; and the result then 
 also was, that immediately " they en- 
 closed a great multitude of fishes." And 
 then it was that, Simon Peter being 
 overcome by the miracle, Christ separa- 
 ted him for the office, to which he af- 
 terwards gave a more solemn appoint- 
 ment, saying, " Fear not ; from hence- 
 forth thou shalt catch men." 
 
 So that there could not well be a 
 more accurate correspondence than be- 
 tween the mode in which Christ pre- 
 pai-cd for Peter's first ordination, and 
 that in which he made way for the re- 
 ordainina: him after his calamitous fall. 
 It can hardly be imagined but that the 
 similarity of the miracle must have 
 painfully forced itself on the attention 
 of St. Peter, bringing back to the mind 
 of the penitent disciple the happy oc- 
 casion on which he had forsaken all that 
 he might follow our Lord, and perhaps 
 suggesting how deplorably he had since 
 altered his position, through overween- 
 ing confidence in his own stedfastuess 
 and courage. 
 
 But whilst there was thus what we 
 might call a repetition of the whole 
 matter of Peter's ordination, what had 
 " the firo of coals " to do with the trans- 
 action 'I It is this of which we chiefly 
 seek the purport or design ; and it does 
 not appear how it served, or contribu- 
 ted, to the supposed object of this third 
 manifestation of Christ. 
 
 But we consider that Christ caused a 
 miraculous draught of fishes, to remind 
 Peter how He had called him original- 
 ly, and to produce in him a sorrowing 
 remembrance of his grievous apostasy. 
 Christ will not solemnly reinvest Peter 
 with the pastoral office, till He has 
 made him again and deeply feel his 
 heinous offence. And the miracle of 
 the draught of fishes will have caused 
 Peter much compunction and bitterness 
 of soul — reminding him of what Christ 
 had done for him, it must have remind- 
 ed him also, and that too like the pierc- 
 ings of a sword, of his ingratitude and 
 cowardice. But the sad facts of his 
 denial of his Lord require to be yet 
 more vividly brought back to his mind, 
 that he may, through the painful recol- 
 lections, be yet better fitted for rein- 
 statement in his office. And might not 
 " the fire of coals " help in a measure to 
 recal the painful act of apostasy '? Thus 
 much is certain, that the expression, " a 
 fire of coals," occurs only in one other 
 place in the New Testament, as though 
 this were not the ordinary so it of fire, 
 and the Evangelist wished especially to 
 mark of what it was made. And it is 
 the same Evangelist, St. John, who 
 uses the word on the two occasions ; St. 
 John, whose great object in writing his 
 Gospel appears to have been to supply 
 the omissions of the preceding histori- 
 ans. But what is the other occasion on 
 which St. John mentions " a fire of 
 coals 'I " It is when he is relating what 
 took place in the palace of the high 
 priest, after Jesus had been apprehend- 
 ed, and brought before Caiaphas. "And 
 the servants and officers stood there, 
 who had made a fire of coals (for it was 
 cold) ; and they warmed themselves : 
 and Peter stood with them, and warmed 
 himself." 
 
 It was, then, whilst he stood by this 
 "fire of coals," that Peter denied his 
 blessed Lord and Master. It was 
 whilst he stood by this fire of coals that 
 Christ threw on him that look which 
 painting never caught, and which, fol- 
 lowing on the crowing of the cock, 
 caused him to go forth and weep bit- 
 terly. Was not, then, " afire of coals," 
 found mysteriously kindled by unknown 
 hands on the shores of the lake, likely 
 to recall to Peter the circumstances of 
 his apostasy 1 It were hard to believe, 
 that, painfully affected as he must al- 
 
THE FIRE ON THE SHORE. 
 
 15 
 
 ready have been by the miracle of the 
 fishes, he could have looked on that 
 strange fire, produced to all appearance 
 by another miracle of Christ, and not 
 have had all the scene in the high 
 priest's palace brought back upon him 
 with a sort of crushing power. Again 
 is he standing: as he stood on that fatal 
 night, and again he meets the look, 
 which, more terrible in its meek re- 
 proachfulness than the fiercest glance of 
 indignation and vengeance, convicted 
 him of apostasy, and convulsed him 
 with remorse. So that the " fire of 
 coals," so pointedly mentioned by the 
 Evanglist, who alone of the sacred his- 
 torians, had recorded of what the fire 
 was made in the high priest's hall, helps 
 to complete the series of symbolical 
 facts, if you suppose the manifestation of 
 Christ, on the occasion before us, to have 
 been granted with a view specially to the 
 reordination of St. Peter. On this sup- 
 position, you are to consider that our 
 blessed Redeemer, graciously design- 
 ing, by a triple commission which should 
 correspond to the triple denial, to re- 
 store His disciple to the pastoral office, 
 so arranged the circumstances of His 
 manifestation of Himself as to fix Pe- 
 ter's attention on the Apostleship with 
 which he had been honored, and on the 
 apostasy by which he had deserved to 
 forfeit it altogether. Nothing could be 
 better constructed to fix his attention on 
 the apostleship than a miracle most ac- 
 curately resembling that which had first 
 moved him to forsake all and follow 
 Christ ; and, accordingly, after another 
 night of fruitless toil, the net is again 
 ordered to be cast into the sea, and 
 acrain incloses a huge multitude of fishes. 
 But how, upon this wild sea-shore, is 
 he to be forcibly reminded of his apos- 
 tasy 1 What shall people that shore 
 with recollections of the scene of dis- 
 aster and shame 1 Nay, if it was by 
 " a fire of coals " that the recreant 
 Apostle stood when he thrice denied 
 his Lord, and if "a fire of coals" 
 were among the last things to be look- 
 ed for on the solitary coast, it might 
 be hard to say what could have been 
 better fitted than a " fire of coals " to 
 fill Peter with a remembrance of his 
 terrible fall. Oh it must have been to 
 him as though there thronged up from 
 the past the taunting questions of the 
 servants, and his own fierce execrations, 
 
 and the shrill crowing of the cock, and 
 the piercing subduing look of his Lord, 
 when, so soon as he was come to land, 
 he " saw a fire of coals there," lighted 
 he knew not how, but for what he could 
 not doubt. 
 
 But whilst we think that such an ex- 
 planation agrees admirably with many 
 of the circumstances of the case, and 
 is replete with interest and instruction, 
 we cannot give it you as in every respect 
 satisfactory. Indeed, it manifestly does 
 not meet the whole of the facts. It 
 gives no account of the preparations 
 which had been made for a repast, nor 
 of the reckoning up the fish, nor of the 
 directing that certain of the fish fust 
 caught should be dressed in addition to 
 those already prepared — a significant 
 circumstance beyond doubt ; for He 
 who had miraculously provided a cer- 
 tain quantity, and laid it on the coals, 
 as if to await the landing: of the disci- 
 pies, might undoubtedly have caused 
 that this certain quantity should be 
 enough, and that there should be no 
 need for waiting till a portion of the 
 fresh draught were dressed. We have 
 still, then, to seek an explanation which 
 shall satisfy all parts of the narrative : 
 and this, we think, is to be found in the 
 progress of the Gospel, and the con- 
 nection between the old and new dis- 
 pensations. 
 
 In one of our Lord's parables, the 
 kingdom of heaven is likened unto a 
 net, which, being cast into the sea, 
 " gathered of every kind ; " so that we 
 may be said to have Christ's own au- 
 thority for considering that the miracu- 
 lous draught of fishes represented the 
 bringing of multitudes into the Church 
 through the instrumentality of the 
 preachers of the Gospel. It is observa- 
 ble also that Simon Peter is said to have 
 drawn the net to land: there may have 
 been a reference here to the fact, that, 
 in reward of his noble confession of 
 Christ, Peter was entrusted with the 
 opening the Church to the Gentiles : he 
 it was, who, instructed by a vision from 
 God, admitted by baptism Cornelius 
 and his friends to the privileges of 
 Christianity. For there can be no 
 doubt, that in this second miraculous 
 draught of fishes, there was a special 
 reference to the combining: of all na- 
 tions in the visible Church. The num- 
 ber of fishes is to be carefully noted ; 
 
1G 
 
 THE FIRE ON THE SHORE. 
 
 an hundred and fifty and three ; and so 
 also is the remark of the Evangelist, 
 
 " And for all there were so many, yet 
 was not the net broken." As to the 
 number, it appears that one hundred 
 and fifty and three was exactly the num- 
 ber of kinds, or varieties of fish then 
 known 1 so that we may most justly 
 conclude that the number was an indi- 
 cation that persons of all nations and 
 conditions should enter into the Church. 
 And then the remark as to the net not 
 being broken, though it inclosed so 
 many fish, must be considered as pro- 
 phetic of the capacity of the Christian 
 Church ; unlike the Jewish, which was 
 not constructed for enlargement and ex- 
 tension, the Christian Church might era- 
 It nice the ends of the earth, and not be 
 overcharged, whatever the multitude 
 and variety of converts. So far, there 
 is little difficulty in assigaing the para- 
 bolic character of the narrative before 
 us ; every one may readily follow the 
 facts, and be aware of their typical im- 
 port. 
 
 But, now, we come again to the " fire 
 of coals," and the prepared repast — 
 what truths did these symbolically teach, 
 when taken, as they must be, in imme- 
 diate connection with the other figura- 
 tive facts ] My brethren, you are to 
 Observe and remember, that the Jewish 
 and the Christian dispensations are not 
 so truly distinct and detached economies, 
 as component parts of one great plan 
 and arrangement. There have never 
 been two ways in which sinners might 
 be saved : in the Old Testament, as in 
 the New, " everlasting life is offered to 
 mankind by Christ, who is the only Me- 
 diator between Cod and man, being both 
 God and man." In the New Testament, 
 indeed, we have the clearer exposition 
 of the great scheme of mercy : God's 
 wondrous purpose of saving the Church 
 through the sacrifice of His only-begot- 
 ten Son is there set forth with a fulness 
 and precision, which it were vain to 
 seek in the writings of the Old. Never- 
 theless, there is no difference whatso- 
 ever in the doctrine propounded, but 
 only in the measure of its revelation ; 
 and, however great the change which 
 was made through the coming of Christ, 
 when external distinctions were swept 
 away, and life and immortality especial- 
 ly brought to light, there still went on 
 the original process for the deliverance 
 
 of the fallen race of man. The process 
 was but continued, though with less of 
 vail and obscurity; and they who were 
 the first inclosed within what might in 
 strictness be styled the Gospel net, were 
 caught — to keep up the metaphor — 
 within the same meshes, and drawn to 
 shore through the same instrumentality, 
 as men of olden times, the righteous 
 who obtained eternal life by the assist- 
 ance of the patriai-chal, or of the legal 
 dispensation. 
 
 But let us see whether this great 
 truth may not have been figuratively 
 taught by the facts of which we are en- 
 deavoring to find an explanation. There 
 was already a fire kindled, when the 
 Apostles dragged to shore the net which 
 specially represented the Christian 
 Church, the Church, that is, as it was 
 to subsist in its expanded form, subse- 
 quently to the coming of Christ. And 
 on the fire which was thus burning, 
 there were fish already laid : yea, and 
 the first direction to the Apostles was, 
 that they should bring of the fish which 
 had just been caught, and add them to 
 those which were already on the coals. 
 Now r , since by the fish of all kinds, 
 which, the net inclosed, we are undoubt- 
 edly to understand the members of the 
 Church, under the Gospel dispensation, 
 ought we not to understand, by the fish 
 already on the coals, the members of the 
 Church under the Jewish dispensation 'i 
 This is nothing but preserving, or keep- 
 ing up the metaphor. If the fish just 
 caught represented the converts that 
 would be made by the preaching of the 
 Gospel, the fish which had been caught 
 before, and not by those who now drew 
 the net to land, may — we should rather 
 say, must — represent those of whom the 
 Church had been composed during the 
 ministrations of the law. So that the 
 visible Church before Christ was figured 
 by the fish already on the coals, the 
 visible Church after Christ by the fish 
 just inclosed in the net; and when the 
 newly-caught fish were placed on the 
 same fire with those which had been 
 previously secured, was it not shown 
 that the visible Church, before and after 
 the coming of Christ, was virtually but 
 one and the same 1 that its members, at 
 whatever time they lived, had to be 
 brought to the same altar, and to be puri- 
 fied by the same flame 1 I know not why 
 we should not think that that strange 
 
THE FIRE ON THE SHORE. 
 
 17 
 
 fire, mysteriously kindled on the lonely 
 shore, \v;is typical of the propitiatory 
 work of the Redeemer, through whom 
 alone the men of any age can be pre- 
 Beuted as a sacrifice acceptable unto 
 God. We have all to be laid upon an 
 altar ; we have all, as it were, to be 
 subjected to the action of fire : but 
 there is no altar but the one Mediator, 
 and no tire- but that of his one great ob- 
 lation, which will answer for those who 
 seek to consecrate themselves, a whole 
 burnt offering, to their Creator in hea- 
 ven. 
 
 And what could be a more lively 
 parable of this fact, than that, just be- 
 fore his departure from earth, when 
 standing on the margin of the sea, the 
 separating-line, so to speak, between 
 time and eternity, Christ caused an 
 altar to rise, mysterious as Himself — for 
 no human hands reared it, — and crown- 
 ed it with burning coals, which had not 
 been kindled by any earthly flame ; and 
 then brought about that there should be 
 placed on this sacred and significant 
 fire representatives of the one visible 
 Church, as it had subsisted before his 
 incarnation, and as it was to subsist till 
 He should come the second time to 
 judgment ? 
 
 It seems to have been a lesson pecu- 
 liarly needed by the Apostles, that they 
 were but following up the labors of the 
 men of earlier times ; that they were 
 not to consider themselves as going 
 forth on a new mission, of which no no- 
 tices bad been previously issued ; but 
 rather as charged with the fresh pro- 
 clamation of truths which had been con- 
 tinuously, though more obscurely, an- 
 nounced. There was naturally great 
 likelihood that the first preachers of 
 Christianity, having to publish the won- 
 drous and startling facts of Christ's 
 birth, and death, and resurrection, would 
 overlook the close connection between 
 the old and the new dispensation. Ac- 
 cordingly Christ had forcibly reminded 
 them of it when He said, " Herein is 
 that saying true, One soweth, and ano- 
 ther reapeth. I sent you to reap that* 
 whereon ye bestowed no labor; other 
 men labored, and ye are entered into their 
 labors." And now he repeats something 
 of the same lesson, conveying it, not 
 through words, but through expressive 
 emblems or figures. He srives them a 
 miraculous draught of fishes : and for- 
 
 asmuch as He had before, in a parable, 
 likened the kingdom of heaven to a net 
 which gathered of all kinds, they would 
 naturally consider these fishes as repre- 
 senting the converts to the Christian re- 
 ligion. But they were not to suppose 
 that these converts formed a separate 
 body, or were to be saved by different 
 means, from the servants of God under 
 earlier dispensations. The Church in 
 all ages was one, and one also was the 
 mode of deliverance. How shall this 
 be shown, so as to keep up the lesson, 
 or rather the emblem of the net and the 
 draught ? Indeed, whether the Apos- 
 tles understood it or not at the first, we 
 may venture to say that the truths, that 
 there had never been but one altar for 
 the sinful, never but one cleansing, con- 
 secrating flame, and that the righteous, 
 however separated by time, and by ex- 
 ternal ordinances and privileges, had 
 communion and fellowship in one and 
 the same mystic body, — that these truths 
 could not have been more significantly 
 exhibited to them, nor more consistently 
 with the emblem of the miraculous 
 draught, than when, "so soon as they 
 were come to land, they saw a fire of 
 coals there, and fish laid thereon and 
 bread," and received immediately this 
 direction from Christ, " Bring of the 
 fish which ye have now caught." 
 
 Now it can hardly be said that there 
 is any part of the remarkable trans- 
 action before us which does not thus 
 find a consistent interpretation. It 
 is true, indeed, that we have made no 
 observation on there having been bread 
 as well as fish already provided ; where- 
 as the Evangelist is careful in noting it, 
 and in afterwards nrentionincr that our 
 Lord took of both, of the bread and 
 the fish, and gave to his disciples. But 
 we may readily allow that different ends 
 were subserved by the same series of 
 facts : it is never required, in the in- 
 terpretation of a parable, whether de- 
 livered in word or by action, that every 
 minute particular should be made to 
 shadow forth a truth. When we inter- 
 preted the facts with a special reference 
 to the case of St. Peter, we had no use 
 to make either of the fish, or of the 
 bread : but we do not on that account 
 conclude that the fire of coals might 
 not have been instrumental, or might 
 not have been designed as instrumental, 
 to the recalling to the Apostle the cir- 
 
18 
 
 THE FIRE ON THE SHORE. 
 
 cumstaiices of his fearful apostasy. In 
 like manner, if there be no special sig- 
 nificance in the bread, when the narra- 
 tive is applied to the shadowing out the 
 progress of the Gospel, and the one- 
 ness of the Church under various dis- 
 pensations, we do not think this any 
 objection to the fitness of the applica- 
 tion : we suppose that the refreshment 
 of the wearied disciples was one of the 
 purposes for which the fire had been 
 kindled, and the food prepared ; and 
 there was use for the bread in regard 
 of this purpose, if not of any other. 
 
 Though it would not be hard to believe 
 that the fish and the bread were com- 
 bined with a higher intent. Christ, you 
 will remember, had fed a great multi- 
 tude with a few loaves and fishes, typi- 
 fying how the truths and doctrines of 
 his religion should suffice for the spirit 
 vial sustenance of the world. The dis 
 ciples would naturally be reminded of 
 this miracle, when Jesus again took 
 bread and fish, and distributed amongst 
 them — reminded too (and what parting 
 lesson could be more important ]) that 
 the food which Christ delivered to them 
 as spiritual pastors, would be an abun- 
 dant provision for the men of all ages 
 and countries. 
 
 But, now, considering that a sufficient 
 and consistent interpretation has been 
 assigned to the several parts of the nar- 
 rative before us, we would show you, 
 in conclusion, into how beautiful an al- 
 legory some of the facts may be wrought, 
 when a broader view is taken, one 
 which shall more distinctly comprehend 
 ourselves. We would not, indeed, 
 claim, for what we have now to advance, 
 the character of an explanation, or in- 
 terpretation, of the significative circum- 
 stances — it is at best but an accommo- 
 dation of the parable : but when a por- 
 tion of Scripture has been expounded, 
 as if relating rather to others than to 
 ourselves, it is both lawful and useful to 
 search for some personal application, 
 that we may feel our own interest, and 
 find our own profit, in the passage re- 
 viewed. 
 
 It is a natural and appropriate simile 
 which likens life to a voyage, a voyage 
 which has variety of terminations — 
 sometimes in calm, sometimes in storm; 
 the vessel, in one case, casting anchor 
 in placid waters, so that the spirit has 
 but, if we may use the expression, to 
 
 step gently ashore ; in another, suffer- 
 ing shipwreck, so that there is fearful 
 strife and peril in escaping from the 
 waves. We shall all reach the shore of 
 another world : for though some may 
 be said to be thrown violently on that 
 shore, whilst others are landed on it, as 
 though by the kind ministry of angels, 
 none can perish as if existence might 
 terminate at death ; of all it will have 
 to be said, as of those with St. Paul 
 in the ship, some by swimming, some 
 on boards, and some on broken pieces 
 of the ship, " it came to pass that 
 they escaped all safe to land." 
 
 And there is something of a delinea- 
 tion of this variety of modes of death, 
 in Peter's struggling through the water, 
 whilst the other disciples approach the 
 shore in their boat. Peter's is the vio- 
 lent death, the death of the martyr ; but 
 his companions find a gentler dismissal 
 from the flesh ; theirs is the natural 
 death, death with fewer of the accom- 
 paniments which invest the last act with 
 terror and awfulness. Yet, die when 
 we will, and how we will, there is a 
 mysteriousness about the moment of 
 dissolution, which must cause it to be 
 expected with some measure of fear 
 and apprehension. The passing in that 
 moment from time to eternity — the be- 
 coming in that instant a disembodied 
 spirit, a naked, unclothed soul, launched 
 upon an unknown scene, with none of 
 the instruments heretofore employed for 
 the ingathering of knowledge, or the 
 communication of thought — oh, who 
 ever marked, so far as it can be mark- 
 ed, the noiseless flitting away of man's 
 immortal part, without experiencing a. 
 painful inquisitiveness as to what, had 
 become of that part, as to where it 
 was, as to what it saw, as to what 
 it heard 1 There may be a thorough 
 assurance that the soul has gone to 
 be with the Lord ; but whilst this de- 
 stroys all anxiety on its account, it 
 does not, cannot, repress the striving 
 of the mind to follow it in its flight, the 
 intense gaze at the folds of the vail 
 which hangs between the present world 
 and the future, as if it must have been 
 so far withdrawn for the admission of 
 the spirit just freed from flesh, that some 
 glimpse might be caught by the watch- 
 ful of the unexplored region beyond. 
 
 But in vain this striving of the mind, 
 this intenseness of the gaze. Whilst 
 
THE FIRE ON THE SHORE. 
 
 19 
 
 we live, it is as an infinite desert, which 
 no thought can traverse, that separates 
 the two worlds ; though, when we come 
 to die, it will he found hut a line, like 
 that which the last wave leaves on a sandy 
 shoi'e. Let it satisfy us, in the mean- 
 while, that whatever the mode in which 
 the soul of the righteous is dismissed — 
 whether that mode be imaged in Peter's 
 casting himself into the sea, and strug- 
 gling to the land, or whether it he re- 
 presented in the quieter approachings 
 of the boat with the other disciples — 
 the soul will find preparation, as it were, 
 for its reception : Christ stands upon the 
 shore, expecting his faithful servants ; 
 and of all of them it will have to be 
 said, in the words of our text, " As soon 
 as they were come to land, they saw a 
 fire of coals there, and fish laid thereon, 
 and bread." Oh, this may well shadow 
 out, what we have abundant warrant for 
 believing from more express statements 
 of Scripture, that, to the faithful in 
 Christ, the moment of being detached 
 from the body is the moment of being 
 admitted into happiness. " As soon as 
 they were come to land " — no delay, no 
 interval — all that was needed was found 
 ready ; the fire kindled, and the banquet 
 spread. 
 
 Yet who doubts that the righteous 
 will not only find the material of happi- 
 ness prepared, but that they will carry 
 with them, so to speak, additions to that 
 
 material, and make heaven all the richer 
 and the brighter by their arrival 1 It is 
 " the communion of saints ; " and whilst 
 each saint shall draw cause of rapture 
 from those who have gone before, they 
 also shall draw cause of rapture from 
 him. Ah, then, how beautifully appo- 
 site the direction, " Bring of the fish 
 which ye have now caught." The ban- 
 quet, the marriage-supper of the Lamb, 
 shall be furnished from the contributions 
 of every generation ; all that any man, 
 in any age, has been enabled to accom- 
 plish in works of righteousness and 
 faith, every spiritual battle won, every 
 convert made, shall be mingled in that 
 vast store of happiness, of which the glo- 
 rified Church shall everlastingly partake. 
 " Blessed are the dead which die in 
 the Lord : yea, saith the Spirit, that 
 they may rest from their labors ; and 
 their works do follow them." They 
 " rest from their labors," in that, as soon 
 as they come to land, they see a fire of 
 coals there, and fish laid thereon, and 
 bread : " their works do follow them," 
 in that they are then bidden to bring of 
 the fish which they have caught. Oh, 
 that we may all so labor during life, that 
 hereafter, when judged, as we must be, 
 by our works, there may be found, not 
 indeed — what can never be — a claim to 
 the happiness of heaven, but an evi- 
 dence of our having loved the Lord Je- 
 sus in sincerity and truth. 
 
THE FINDING THE GUEST-CHAMBER. 
 
 SERMON III. 
 
 THE FINDING THE GUEST-CHAMBER. 
 
 " And he sendeth forth two of his disciples, and saith unto them, Go ye into the city, and there shall meet you a man 
 bearing a pitcher of water : follow him. And wheresoever he shall go in, say ye to the pood man of the house. 
 The Master saith, Where is the guest-chamber, where I shall eat the passover with my disciples? Aud he will 
 ■hew you a large upper room furnished and prepared : there make ready for us." — St. Mark, xiv. 13, 14, 15. 
 
 The time was now at hand when our 
 Lord was to complete, by the sacrifice 
 of Himself, the "Teat work for which 
 He had taken upon Him our nature. 
 He had wrought miracle upon miracle, 
 in evidence of a divine commission ; and 
 He had delivered discourse upon dis- 
 course, in illustration of the dispensation 
 which he had come to introduce. But 
 without shedding; of blood there could 
 be no remission of sin ; and all his ac- 
 tions, and sermons, had been but pre- 
 paratory to a wondrous and fearful oc- 
 currence, the surrender of Himself to 
 the will of his enemies, to the death of 
 a malefactor. 
 
 The disciples should have been aware 
 — for Christ gave them frequent warn- 
 ing — that the time of separation from 
 their Master was almost arrived, and 
 that the separation would be effected in 
 a manner most trying to their faith. 
 Yet they appear to have closed their 
 eyes, in a great degree, to the coming 
 events : after all which had been done 
 to prepare them, they were taken by 
 surprise, and seemed as bewildered and 
 confounded by what befel Christ, as 
 though He had not, in the most express 
 terms, forewarned them of his crucifix- 
 ion and burial. This arose from their 
 unbelief and hardness of heart : they 
 had not yet divested themselves of the 
 thought and hope of a temporal king- 
 dom ; and, whatever the process by 
 which they contrived to explain away, 
 or hide from themselves, the clear state- 
 ments of our Lord, it is manifest that 
 they had virtually no expectation that 
 Christ would be nailed to the cross, 
 
 and that his dying this shameful death 
 passed with them as well-nigh a proof, 
 that He could not be the deliverer pro- 
 mised unto Israel. 
 
 But it is beautiful to observe what 
 pains, so to speak, were taken by the 
 compassionate Savior to fortify the dis- 
 ciples, to arm them for the approaching 
 days of temptation and disaster. We 
 have at other times shown you how this 
 tender consideration for his followers 
 may be traced in the arrangements 
 which He made for his last entry into 
 Jerusalem, in accomplishment of the 
 prophecy of Zechariah, that her King 
 should come to Zion, sitting upon an 
 ass, and upon a colt the foal of an ass. 
 It was in a strange and circuitous way 
 that Christ provided Himself with the 
 animal on which He was to ride. He 
 sent two of his disciples to a particular 
 spot, informing them that they should 
 there find an ass and a colt. He direct- 
 ed them to take possession of these ani- 
 mals, and lead them away, as though 
 they had been their own. He furnished 
 them with certain words, in reply to 
 any remonstrance which the owners 
 might make, and assured them that 
 these words would induce the owners 
 to part with their property. How sin- 
 gular, how intricate a mode of obtaining, 
 what probably would have been brought 
 Him, had He merely mentioned his 
 wish to any one in the multitude. But 
 was there not good reason for his pre- 
 ferring this circuitous method 1 We 
 may be sure there was ; even as, when 
 the tribute money had to be paid, there 
 was good reason for his sending Peter 
 
THE FINDING THE GUEST-CHAMI5ER. 
 
 21 
 
 to the sea, and making him find the 
 piece of money in the month of the fish 
 which he first caught, in place of pro- 
 ducing, as Ho might have done, the 
 money at once, divesting the miracle of 
 all intricate accompaniments. And 
 there is no difficulty in assigning reasons 
 for the method which our Lord took to 
 procure the humble equipage of which 
 He had need. The foreknowledge 
 which He displayed as to mean and in- 
 considerable things, such as the ass and 
 her colt ; the influence which, though 
 at a distance, He put forth upon the 
 owners, inducing them to part with their 
 property, — these surely were calculated 
 to convince the disciples (and upon no 
 point, at that moment, had they greater 
 need of assurance) that Christ would 
 have his eye upon them in their poverty 
 and distress, and that his not being visi- 
 bly present, would in no degree inter- 
 fere with his power of subduing his ene- 
 mies, and sustaining his friends. 
 
 But our Lord was not content with 
 having, in this signal instance, furnished 
 his followers with such evidences of his 
 prescience and power, as were most 
 adapted to prepare them for the on- 
 coming trial. In the course of a very 
 few days, and when the time of his cru- 
 cifixion was close at hand, He took a 
 similar roundabout way of obtaining 
 what He needed, with the intent, as we 
 may believe, of again impressing on the 
 disciples the truths which would best 
 support them in their approaching tri- 
 bulation. Our Lord was now in Betha- 
 ny, in the confines of Jerusalem, await- 
 ing the final act of rejection by the 
 Jews. The first day of the feast of un- 
 leavened bread having arrived, the dis- 
 ciples came to Him, saying, " Where 
 wilt thou that we go and prepare, that 
 thou mayest eat the passover '{ " 
 This was a very simple question, sup- 
 posing, as was undoubtedly the case, 
 that Christ had determined in what 
 house he would partake of the last sup- 
 per with his followers. And He might 
 have delivered a very simple answer - , 
 indicating the street in the city, and the 
 name of the householder. This is what 
 woidd most naturally have been done 
 under ordinary circumstances, but our 
 Lord, as you will observe, took a wholly 
 different course. In place of a simple 
 answer, He gave the most complicated 
 directions. He tells his disciples to go 
 
 into the city, mentioning no particular 
 quarter, but bidding them proceed till 
 they should meet a man carrying a 
 pitcher of water. They were to follow 
 this man — not to speak to him, with the 
 view of ascertaining whether he were 
 the right person to follow — but to fol- 
 low him, and to enter any house into 
 which he might go. They were then 
 to accost the master of this house — not, 
 as it would appear, the same person a3 
 they had been following — but they were 
 to accost him without ceremony, in an 
 abrupt manner, as making a claim, ra- 
 ther than as preferring a request. " The 
 Master saith, Where is the guest-cham- 
 ber, where I shall eat the passover with 
 my disciples 1 " Christ assured his mes- 
 sengers, that, upon this, a large upper 
 room would he shown them, " furnished 
 and prepared." Thus, accordingly, it 
 came to pass. We read in the next 
 verse, " His disciples went forth, and 
 came into the city, and found as He had 
 said unto them." 
 
 But you can hardly read of so intri- 
 cate a way of doing a simple thing, and 
 not ask — as in regard of the mode of 
 obtaining the ass and the colt — why did 
 our Lord take so roundabout a method % 
 why did He not go more directly to his 
 end 1 We may he sure that there were 
 good reasons : these reasons, we may 
 believe, are still to be found in the cir- 
 cumstances of the disciples, and in the 
 desire of Christ to strengthen them for 
 the trial which was now close at hand ; 
 and we invite you to an attentive sur- 
 vey of the several particulars specified 
 in our text, that you may the better 
 judge whether it was not with a wise 
 and tender regard for those from whom 
 He was so soon to be separated, that 
 Jesus, in place of sending Peter and 
 John direct to the house where He de- 
 signed to eat the passover, bade them 
 go into the city, and look out for, and 
 follow, "a man bearing a pitcher of 
 water." 
 
 Now, let the preparation have been 
 ever so labored and explicit, it cannot 
 be denied that it was a great trial of 
 faith which the disciples were about to 
 undergo, in beholding their Master given 
 up to the wiles of his enemies, and in 
 being themselves exposed to fierce per- 
 secution. Even had they thoroughly 
 understood, and apprehended, the pre- 
 dictions of Christ in regard of his own 
 
22 
 
 THE FINDING THE GUEST-CHAMBER. 
 
 "betrayal and death, it could not have 
 been other than a terrible shock, a shock 
 calculated to overthrow all but the very 
 firmest trust, when the powers of dark- 
 ness seemed to triumph, and evil angels, 
 and evil men, prevailed against right- 
 eousness. It must then have been a 
 great thing for the disciples, that faith 
 should be kept in exercise up to the 
 very time when so vast a demand 
 was to be made upon its energies ; for, 
 assuredly, in proportion as faith was left 
 inactive till summoned to face the shame 
 of the cross, woud be the likelihood of 
 its then giving way, as not having been 
 practised, in lesser encounters. Faith, 
 like other powers, is strengthened 
 through use ; and every believer must 
 feel, that if, after a long period of com- 
 parative peace and security, he is sud- 
 denly met by an extraordinary onset of 
 trial, there is much greater risk of his 
 being confounded and overborne, than 
 if the extraordinary onset were to come 
 after a lengthened series of less virulent 
 assaults. The spiritual arm, as well as 
 the bodily, becomes fitted for encounter 
 with the giant, through frequent encoun- 
 ters with formidable, but not as formid- 
 able, adversaries; though either, if ex- 
 posed, without this previous discipline, 
 to a contest with Goliath of Gath, might 
 prove wholly insufficient, and give way 
 at once, having scarce attempted the 
 battle. It was after having met the lion 
 and the bear, that David went forth to 
 meet the uncircumcised Philistine. 
 
 And we might expect that Christ, 
 knowing to how great effort the faith of 
 bis followers was about to be called, 
 would, in his compassionate earnestness 
 for their welfare, keep their faith in ex- 
 ercise up to the moment of the dreaded 
 separation. He would find, or make occa- 
 sions for trying and testing the princi- 
 ples which were soon to be brought 
 to so stern a proof. Did He do this '? 
 and how did he do it 1 We regard the 
 circumstances which are now under re- 
 view, those connected with the finding 
 the guest-chamber in which the last sup- 
 per might be eaten, as an evidence and 
 illustration of Christ's exercising the 
 faith of his disciples. 
 
 Was it not exercising the faith of 
 Peter and John — for these, the more 
 distinguished of the disciples, were em- 
 ployed on the errand — to send them in- 
 to the city with such strange and desul- 
 
 tory directions 1 How natural for them 
 to have said, why not tell us at once the 
 house to which we are to go 1 we shall 
 perhaps meet a dozen men, each bear- 
 ing a pitcher of water ; we are as likely 
 to follow the wrong as the right ; and 
 as to enterino: a stranger's house, and 
 abrubtly requiring him to show us the 
 guest-chamber, how improbable is it 
 that we shall meet with any thing but 
 insult, insult which will really be de- 
 served, considering that we shall have 
 taken an inexcusable liberty. There 
 were so many chances, if the word may 
 be used, against the guest-chamber be- 
 ing found through the circuitous method 
 prescribed by our Lord, that we could 
 not have wondered, had Peter and John 
 shown reluctance to obey his command. 
 And we do not doubt that what are 
 called the chances, were purposely mul- 
 tiplied by Christ, to make the finding 
 the room seem more improbable, and 
 therefore to give faith the greater exer- 
 cise. It could be no unusual thing for 
 a man to be carrying a pitcher of water 
 — Christ might have given some more 
 remarkable sign. But it was its not be- 
 ing remarkable which made place for 
 faith. Accain, there would have been 
 risk enough of mistake or repulse, in 
 accosting the man with the pitcher : 
 but this man was only to be followed ; 
 and he might stop at many houses be- 
 fore he reached the right ; and the mas- 
 ter of the house might be from home — 
 how many contingencies might have 
 been avoided, if Christ would but have 
 given more explicit directions. But 
 Christ would not be more explicit, be- 
 cause, in propoition as He had been 
 more explicit, there would have been 
 less exercise for faith. 
 
 And if you imagine that, after all, it 
 was no Qfreat demand on the faith of 
 Peter and John, that they should go on 
 so vai^ue an errand — for that much did 
 not hinge on their finding the right 
 place, and they had but to return, if 
 any thing wont wrong — we are altogeth- 
 er at issue with you. I have no hesita- 
 tion in maintaining, that any one of you 
 would have been loath to go into Jeru- 
 salem for such a purpose, and with such 
 directions ; ay, more loath than to un- 
 dertake some signal enterprise, manifest- 
 ly requiring high courage and fortitude. 
 There was something that looked de- 
 
 g 
 
 rading 
 
 anc 
 
 1 
 
 ignoble 
 
 in the errand — 
 
THE FINDING THE GUEST-CII AMI5ER. 
 
 23 
 
 men who could work miracles, and who 
 had been with Christ when transfigured, 
 being sent to look about the streets for 
 a man bearing a pitcher of water, and 
 to enter a stranger's house where they 
 were only likely to meet rudeness. 
 
 And the apparent meanness of an em- 
 ployment will often try faith more than 
 its apparent difficulty ; the exposure to 
 ridicule and contempt will require 
 greater moral nerve than the exposure 
 to danger and death. How should it 
 be otherwise, when genuine humility is 
 among the hardest things to acquire 
 and maintain : and when, consequently, 
 whatsoever goes directly to the morti- 
 fying pride will more touch men to the 
 quick, than any amount of effort, or of 
 sacrifice, round which may be thrown 
 something of a lofty or chivalrous as- 
 pect '? Oh, do not tell us of great faith 
 as required only for the following Christ 
 bearing his cross — there was great faith 
 required also for the following the man 
 bearing the pitcher. Tell us not of its 
 being a hard task to goin unto Pharaoh, 
 and to say, " Thus saith the Lord, Let 
 my people go ; " it was a hard task 
 also to go in unto the stranger, and say, 
 " Thus saith the Master, Where is the 
 guest-chamber 1 " 
 
 We believe that it is very frequently 
 ordered that faith should he disciplined 
 and nurtured for its hardest endurances, 
 and its highest achievements, through 
 exposure to petty inconveniences, col- 
 lisions with mere rudeness, the obloquy 
 of the proud, the sneer of the super- 
 cilious, and the incivility of the ignorant. 
 Men have looked wonderingly, as some 
 unflinching confessor, some candidate 
 for the bloody crown of martyrdom, has 
 stepped forth from ranks which had 
 only simple duties to discharge, and 
 common trials to face, and displayed a 
 constancy, and a courage, surpassing 
 those exhibited by Christians trained in 
 higher schools of experience. But they 
 have forgotten, or they have not known, 
 that no where is faith so well disciplined 
 as in humble occupations, that it grows 
 great through little tasks, and may be 
 more exercised by being kept to the 
 menial business of a servant, than by 
 being summoned to the lofty standing 
 of a leader. They have forgotten, or 
 they have not known, that the uncour- 
 teous repulses, the ungracious slights, 
 the contemptuous insults, to which a 
 
 Christian may be exposed in acting out 
 his Christianity in every-day life, and 
 amid the most common-place circum- 
 stances, put his principles to severe 
 proof, or keep them in full work ; and 
 that the very fact of his having moved 
 in so humble a sphere, and been plied 
 with trials so unostentatious and petty, 
 has had a direct tendency to the harden- 
 ing him for conflict, ay, though it might 
 be with "principalities and powers." 
 
 And it seems to us that Christ was 
 practically teaching, and illustrating all 
 this, in the course which he took with 
 his disciples, as the time of their great 
 trial drew near. We may justly assume 
 that He sought to prepare them for this 
 trial, that it was his object to keep their 
 faith exercised, that the likelihood misrht 
 be less of its giving way at the last. 
 And his method of exercise was by 
 employing them on eiTands which threat- 
 ened to be fruitless, and seemed to be 
 degrading. Five days before his cruci- 
 fixion, He sends two disciples to look 
 for an ass and a colt, where they were 
 perhaps little likely to be found, and to 
 remove them at the risk of being regard- 
 ed as robbers, and therefore treated 
 with insult or violence. And now two 
 days before his crucifixion, He sends 
 two disciples to find him a place where 
 He may celebrate the passover; but He 
 seems to take pains, not only to avoid 
 the being simple in his directions, but 
 to make those directions involve as 
 many probabilities as possible of what 
 would be irksome and unpleasant, as 
 much exposure as possible to mistake, 
 repulse, contempt — the very things 
 from which men are most ready to 
 shrink — for He bids his disciples walk 
 the city till they meet a man bearing a 
 pitcher of water, follow that man, enter 
 any house into which he might go, and 
 accost the master of the house with the 
 unceremonious message, " The Master 
 saith, Where is the guest-chamber, 
 where I shall eat the passover with my 
 disciples '? " 
 
 We should, however, be taking only 
 a contracted view of the circumstances 
 before us, if we considered them merely 
 with reference to an exercise of faith, 
 a; though Christ's only object had been 
 the disciplining his disciples for the 
 shame of the cross, by employing them 
 on errands from which their pride would 
 revolt. That this was one great object, 
 
84 
 
 THE FINDING THE GUEST-CHAMBER. 
 
 we think it lawful to infer, as well from 
 the nature of the case, as from the re- 
 semblance of the proceeding to that 
 which had occurred hut three days he- 
 fore, when the two disciples were dis- 
 patched for the ass and the colt. You 
 can hardly fail to admit, that the same 
 principle must have been at work in the 
 two eases — so similarly are the chances 
 of mistake and repulse multiplied, and, 
 with these, the chances of insult; our 
 Lord is evidently carrying on a system, 
 a system, if we may use the expression, 
 of humiliating errands, as though He 
 would thereby prepare his followers to 
 face persecution in its more awful forms. 
 And we do earnestly desire of you to 
 bear this in mind; for men, who are 
 not appointed to great achievements and 
 endn ranees, are very apt to feel as though 
 there were not enough, in the trials and 
 duties of a lowly station, for the nurture 
 and exercise of high Christian graces. 
 Whereas, if it were by merely follow- 
 ing a man hearing a pitcher of water 
 that Apostles were trained for the worst 
 Onsets of evil, there may he no such 
 School for the producing strong faith as 
 that in which the lessons are of the most 
 every-day kind. It is a remarkable say- 
 ing of our hlessed Lord, "If any man 
 wilt come after me. let him deny him- 
 self and take up his cross daily, and 
 foil «v me." " Take up his cross daily " 
 - — then there is a cross to he home 
 every day : the cross is not to be carried 
 only 0:1 great occasions; the cross is to 
 be carried daily : a true Christian will 
 find the cross, nay, cannot miss the 
 cross, in the events, the duties, the 
 trials, of every day — else how is he to 
 " take up his cross daily ] " how to fol- 
 low Christ daily 'I Ah, we are too apt 
 to think that taking up the cross, and 
 following Christ, are singular things, 
 things lor peculiar seasons and extraor- 
 dinary circumstances. Let us learn, 
 and let us remember, that, on the con- 
 trary, they may, they must, he of every 
 day occurrence ; and let it serve to ex- 
 plain how they may be of daily occur- 
 rence, that, when Christ would school 
 his disciples to face the perils of fid- 
 lowing Him as He ascended Mount 
 Calvary, lie set them to face the un- 
 pleasantness of following a man hearing 
 a pitcher of water. 
 
 But there is more than this to he said 
 in regard of the complicated way in 
 
 which Christ directed his disciples to 
 the guest-chamber where He had de- 
 termined to eat the last supper. He 
 was not only exercising the faith of the 
 disciples, by sending them on nn errand 
 which seemed unnecessarily intricate, 
 and to involve great exposure to insult 
 and repulse — He was giving strong evi- 
 dence of his thorough acquaintance with 
 every thing that was to happen, and of 
 his power over the minds whether oi 
 strangers or of friends. In proportion 
 as there seemed a great many chances 
 aqainst the right room being found by 
 the disciples, was the proof, as you must 
 all admit, when the room was neverthe- 
 less found, that the prescience, or fore- 
 knowledge, of Christ extended to mi- 
 nute or inconsiderable particulars. You 
 must consider it as a prophecy, on the 
 part of Christ, that the man would be 
 met, hearing a pitcher of water ; that, 
 if followed, he would enter the light 
 house ; that the master of this house, 
 on being asked by the disciples, would 
 show them " alar^e upper-room furnish- 
 ed and prepared," where they might 
 make ready for the eating the passover. 
 But it was a prophecy of no ordinary 
 kind. It was a prophecy which seemed 
 to take delight in putting difficulties in 
 the way of its own precise accomplish- 
 ment. It would not have been accom- 
 plished by the mere finding the house 
 — it would have been defeated, had the 
 house been found through any other 
 means than the meeting the man, or had 
 tin; man been discovered through any 
 other sign than the pitcher of water : 
 yea, and it would have heen defeated, 
 defeated in the details, which were 
 given, as it might have seemed, with 
 such unnecessary and perilous minute- 
 ness, if the master of the house had 
 made the least objection, or if it had not 
 heen an upper-room which he showed 
 the disciples, or if that room had not 
 heen large, or if it had not been furnish- 
 ed and prepared. If Christ had merely 
 sent the disciples to a particular house, 
 telling them that they would there find 
 a guest-chamber, there might, or there 
 might not have been prophecy ; the 
 master of the house might have been 
 one of Christ's adherents, and Christ 
 might previously have held wiih Him 
 some private communication, arranging 
 for the celebration of the passover. But 
 our Lord put it beyond controversy 
 
THE FINDING THE GUEST-CHAMBER. 
 
 25 
 
 that there was no pre-arranged scheme, 
 but that He was distinctly exercising 
 his own prophetic power, by making 
 the whole thing turn on the meeting a 
 man with a pitcher of water. For 
 though you may say that this might 
 have been part of a plot or confederacy, 
 our Lord having agreed with the house- 
 holder that his servant should be stand- 
 ing, with a particular burden, at a par- 
 ticular place, and at a particular time, 
 yet, surely, on the least reflection, you 
 must allow that no sagacious person, 
 who had thought it worth while to make 
 a plot at all, would have made one so 
 likely to be defeated — for what more 
 likely than that, in the streets of a 
 crowded city, several persons would be 
 met, about the same time, with so com- 
 mon a thing as a pitcher of water? or 
 than that the disciples, loitering a little 
 on the road, or going a different way, 
 would just miss the encounter on which 
 the whole thing depended "? 
 
 The supposition of any thing of plot, 
 or confederacy, is excluded by the com- 
 monness of the specified occurrences ; 
 and then, on the other hand, this very 
 commonness should serve to make what 
 must have been prophecy all the more 
 wonderful ; for to be able to foresee, 
 with most perfect distinctness, that the 
 man would be met, that the disciples 
 would follow the right person, that they 
 would be taken to the right house, that 
 they would be shown the right room — 
 nay, you may speak of the marvellous- 
 ness of foreseeing an empire's rise, or 
 an empire's fall ; but there might really 
 be greater scope for the keen conjec- 
 ture, or the sagacious guess, of a far- 
 sighted man, in the probable revolutions 
 of states, than in the pitcher of water, 
 and the furnished guest-chamber. 
 
 And whatever tended to prove to the 
 disciples their Master's thorough ac- 
 quaintance with every future contin- 
 gency, ought to have tended to the pre- 
 paring them for the approaching days 
 of disaster and separation. For how 
 could they think that any thing, which 
 was about to happen to Christ, would 
 happen by chance, without having been 
 accurately foreknown by Him, and fore- 
 ordained, when He showed that his pile- 
 science extended to such inconsiderable 
 particulars as were involved in the er- 
 rand on which they had been sent? 
 And what right had they to be stagger- 
 
 I ed by what befel Christ, if nothing be- 
 fel Him which He had not expected, 
 and for which He had not provided 1 
 If He foresavvthe man with the pitcher, 
 He must have foreseen Himself with 
 the cross — and surely, if He thoroughly 
 foreknew what was coming upon Him, 
 this very circumstance should have suf- 
 ficed to prove Him more than human; 
 and, if more than human, what was 
 there to be staggered at in the shame 
 of his cross 1 
 
 Besides, it was beautifully adapted to 
 the circumstances of the disciples, that 
 Christ showed that his foreknowledge 
 extended to trifles. These disciples 
 were likely to imagine, that, being poor 
 and mean persons, they should be over- 
 looked by Christ, when separated from 
 them, and, perhaps, exalted to glory. 
 And the showing them that his eye was 
 on the movements of the Roman gov- 
 ernor, or on the secret gatherings of the 
 1 hansees, would not have sufficed to 
 prevent, or destroy, this imagination; 
 for Pilate and the Pharisees occupied 
 prominent places, and might be expected 
 to fix Christ's attention. But that his 
 eye was threading the crowded tho- 
 roughfares of the city, that it was noting 
 a servant with a pitcher of water, ob- 
 serving accurately when this servant left 
 his master's house, when he reached the 
 well, and when he would be at a parti- 
 cular spot on his way back — ah, this was 
 not merely wonderful foreknowledge; 
 this was foreknowledge applying itself 
 to the insignificant and unknown : Peter 
 and John might have obtained little com- 
 fort from Christ's proving to them that 
 He watched a Caesar on the throne; but 
 it ought to have been surprisingly cheer- 
 ing to them, his proving that He watch- 
 ed a poor slave at the fountain. 
 
 Then, again, observe that whatever 
 power was here put forth by Christ, was 
 put forth without his being in contact 
 with the party on whom it was exerted. 
 Had He gone Himself to the house- 
 holder, and in person demanded the ac- 
 commodation which He needed, the re- 
 sult might have been ascribed to his 
 presence ; there was no resisting, it 
 might have been said, one whose word 
 was always " with power.'? Whereas, 
 the householder surrendered his pro- 
 perty on the strength of the message, 
 " The Master saith," as the owners had 
 surrendered the ass and the colt, on be- 
 
26 
 
 THE FINDING THE GUEST-CHAMBER. 
 
 ins: told, " The Lord hath need of them." 
 Christ acted, that is, ujion parties who 
 were at a distance from Him, thus giv- 
 ing incontrovertible proof, that his visi- 
 ble presence was not necessary in order 
 to the exercise of his power. What a 
 comfort should this have been to the 
 disciples, informing and assuring them 
 that Christ's removal from them would 
 in no degree interfere with his protec- 
 tion and guardianship ; if from Bethany 
 Christ could make the householder in 
 Jerusalem throw open his guest-cham- 
 ber, Peter might have learnt that, from 
 heaven, Christ could make the prison- 
 doors fly open for his escape. 
 
 Were not then all the details of the 
 errand before us, even when you leave 
 out the exercise of the faith of the dis- 
 ciples, every way worthy of the wisdom 
 and goodness of our Lord, expressive 
 of his tender consideration for the cir- 
 cumstances of his followers, and of his 
 desire to afford them the instruction and 
 encouragement which might best fit 
 them for coming duties and trials '? In- 
 deed, it is easy to imagine how, when 
 his death was near at hand, Christ might 
 have wrought miracles, and uttered pro- 
 phecies, more august in their character, 
 and more adapted to the excitement of 
 amazement and awe. He might have 
 darkened the air with portents and pro- 
 digies, and have brought up from the 
 future magnificent processions of thrones 
 and principalities. But there would not 
 have been, in these gorgeous or appal- 
 ling displays, the sort of evidence which 
 was needed by disquieted and dispirited 
 men, whose meanness suggested to them 
 a likelihood of their being overlooked, 
 and who, expecting to be separated from 
 their Master, might fear that the sepa- 
 ration would remove them from his care. 
 And this evidence, the evidence that 
 Jesus had his eye on those whom the 
 world might neglect or despise, and 
 that He did not require to be visibly 
 present, whether to keep down an enemy 
 or support a friend — ah, this was given, 
 so that the disciples might have taken 
 it, in all its preciousness, to themselves, 
 when every thing came to pass which 
 had been involved in or indicated by the 
 directions, " Co ye into the city, and 
 there shall meet you a man bearing a 
 pitcher of water: follow him. And 
 wheresoever he shall go in, say ye to 
 the good man of the house, The Mas- j 
 
 ter saith, Where is the guest-chamber, 
 where I shall eat the passover with my 
 disciples V 
 
 And should we be warranted in as- 
 signing any thing of a more typical or 
 symbolical meaning to the directions 
 which were thus issued by our Lord 1 
 Indeed, in so doing, we should not be 
 without the sanction of eminent inter- 
 preters, whilst the accuracy and beauty 
 of the type must readily commend them- 
 selves to every thoughtful mind. It was 
 not for the mere purpose of celebrating 
 the passover that our blessed Lord 
 sought a guest-chamber where He might 
 eat his last supper with his disciples. 
 Then and there was He to institute that 
 commemorative, that sacrificial rite, in 
 and through which the Church, in all 
 ages, was to feed on his body, and 
 drink of his precious blood. The sup- 
 per was to be concluded by his taking 
 bread, and blessing it into the sacra- 
 mental representative of his flesh, wine 
 into the sacramental representative of 
 his blood ; and by the issuing of a so- 
 lemn injunction that the like should ever 
 after be done in devout remembrance 
 of Himself. Thus, in that guest-cham- 
 ber, was the feast on the paschal lamb 
 to be virtually abolished ; but only that 
 there might be ordained in its stead a 
 profounder and more pregnant mystery, 
 the feast on the true Paschal Lamb, par- 
 taking of which the faithful, to the end 
 of time, might apprehend and appropri- 
 ate the benefits of the all-sufficient sa- 
 crifice for the sins of the world. 
 
 But the sacrament of the body and 
 blood of our blessed Redeemer is for 
 those only who have been duly initiated 
 by the sacrament of baptism into the 
 visible Church. It is not the initiatory 
 sacrament, not that through which we 
 are first grafted into Christ, and made 
 members of his mystical body ; but that 
 through which, having by another ordi- 
 nance been born ag-iin, and received 
 into the family of God, we are kept in 
 that holy fellowship, and nurtured up to 
 everlasting life. Hence the one sacra- 
 ment, whose outward sign is water, is pre- 
 paratory to the other sacrament, whose 
 outward part or sign is bread and wine; 
 and it were, indeed, the most perilous 
 invasion of fhe highest privilege of 
 Christians, were any, who had not keen 
 washed in the laver of regeneration, to 
 intrude themselves at that table where, 
 
THE FINDING THE GUEST-CHAMBER. 
 
 27 
 
 in awful remembrance, and effectual sig- 
 nificance, there is distributed that flesh 
 which is meat indeed, and that blood 
 which is drink indeed. 
 
 But was not all this, in a measure, 
 shadowed out — or, if not intentionally 
 shadowed out, may it not be lawfully 
 traced — in Christ's directions to his dis- 
 ciples on which we have discoursed I 
 How were the disciples to find out the 
 guest-chamber 1 By following a man 
 "bearing a pitcher of water." The 
 water was, it as were, to lead them into 
 the guest-chamber, the chamber where 
 they were to find the body and blood of 
 their Lord. You may pronounce this 
 nothing but an accidental coincidence, 
 if, indeed, you will presume to speak 
 of any thing as accidental, undesigned, 
 and insiguificant, in the actions and ap- 
 pointments of Christ. But we cannot 
 help counting the coincidence too exact, 
 and too definite, to have not been in- 
 tended — at least, if we may not use it in 
 confirmation, we may in illustration of 
 a doctrine. The disciples, indeed, may 
 have attached no symbolical meaning to 
 the pitcher of water : they were in quest 
 only of a room in which to eat the pass- 
 over, and knew nothing of the solemn 
 rite about to be instituted. Hence, to 
 them there would be nothing in the 
 pitcher of water, but a mark by which 
 to know into what house to enter. But 
 to ourselves, who are looking for the 
 guest-chamber, not as the place where 
 the paschal lamb may be eaten, but as 
 that where Christ is to give of his own 
 body and blood, the pitcher of water 
 may well serve as a memento that it is 
 baptism which admits us into Christian 
 privileges, that they, who find a place 
 at the supper of the Lord, must have 
 met the man with the water, and have 
 
 | followed that man — must have been pre- 
 sented to the minister of the Church, 
 and have received from him the ini- 
 tiatory sacrament ; and then have sub- 
 mitted meekly to the guidance of the 
 Church, till introduced to those deeper 
 recesses of the sanctuary, where Christ 
 spreads his rich banquet for such as call 
 upon his name. 
 
 Thus may there have been, in the di- 
 rections for finding the guest-chamber, 
 a standing intimation of the process 
 thro'uffh which should be sought an en- 
 trance to that upper room, where Christ 
 and his members shall finally sit down, 
 that they may eat together at the mar- 
 riage supper. For the communion of 
 the body and blood of the Redeemer is 
 itself to "show forth the Lord's death" 
 only " till He come," and shall give 
 place, as the passover gave place to it, 
 to a richer banquet, in a yet highei 
 apartment of the heavenly kingdom 
 That apartment, too, like the upper 
 room in Jerusalem, is large, and fur- 
 nished, and prepared — large enough to 
 admit us all, furnished and prepared with 
 whatsoever can minister to happiness. 
 And having been admitted by baptism 
 into the Church below, having sought 
 continued supplies of grace in the upper 
 room, at the altar where the Master is 
 " evidently set forth, crucified among " 
 us — ay, having thus, in the simplicity of 
 faith and obedience, submitted ourselves 
 to Christ's ordinances, because they are 
 his ordinances, as did the disciples to his 
 directions, because they were his direc- 
 tions, we may humbly hope to pass here- 
 after into that yet loftier abode — more 
 truly " the large upper room " — where 
 Christ shall everlastingly give his peo- 
 ple of his fulness, and make them drink 
 of his pleasures as out of a river. 
 
28 
 
 THE SPECTRE S SERMON A TRUISM. 
 
 SERMON IV. 
 
 THE SPECTRE'S SERMON A TRUISM. 
 
 " Then a spirit passed before my face ; the hair of my flesh stood up : It stood still, but I could not discern the form 
 thereof: an image was before mine eyes, there was silence, and I heard a voice, saying, Shall mortal maa be more 
 just than God .' shall a man be more pure than his Maker? " — Job iv. 15, 1C, 17. 
 
 Every one must, of course, be aware 
 that, whilst the Bible is throughout to 
 be implicitly depended on, as neither 
 recording historically anything but facts, 
 nor delivering didactically anything but 
 truths, it does not follow that every pas- 
 sage may, in the strictest sense, be taken 
 as the word of God. In the historical 
 parts of Scripture, the sayings, as well 
 as the actions of various persons are re- 
 gistered ; and whilst in many instances 
 the actions are such as God did not ap- 
 prove, in others the sayings are such as 
 He did not inspire. 
 
 It does not then follow, that, because 
 words arc found in the Bible, they may 
 be taken as announcing some truth on 
 which the preacher may safely proceed 
 to discourse. They may be the words 
 of a man in whom the Spirit of God did 
 not dwell, of a heathen whose creed was 
 falsehood, or of a blasphemer who de- 
 spised all authority. In such cases, what 
 is termed the inspiration of Scripture 
 warrants nothing but the faithfulness of 
 the record : we are sure that the sayings 
 set down were actually uttered : the pen 
 of the historian was guided by God's 
 Spirit, but only in regard of the strict 
 office ot the historian, that, of registering 
 with accuracy certain occurrences. And, 
 of course, if the inspiration extend only 
 to the man who records, and not to him 
 who utters a saying, the saying itself 
 may not be necessarily truth, though l lie 
 Bible itself undividcdly is. In the ma- 
 jority of instances, indeed, we doubt not 
 that the; two things concur — the speaker 
 was directed what to say, as well as the 
 historian what to record — or rather, by 
 
 directing the historian to insert certain 
 sayings in his book, the Spirit of God 
 may be considered as having appropri- 
 ated those sayings, and given them in a 
 measure the stamp of his approval. 
 
 We here speak especially of the say- 
 ings of holy men of old. It would 
 not, of course, be easy to show — nay, 
 we do not suppose it to be true — that, 
 in all which the saints, whether of the 
 old or the new dispensation, are record- 
 ed to have said, we may look for the ut- 
 terances of men immediately and literally 
 inspired. But, nevertheless, we think 
 that, in preserving their sayings, and 
 causing them to be transmitted to all fu- 
 ture days, the Spirit of God has so far 
 sanctioned them by his authority, that 
 they should be received by us with much 
 of that reverence which is due to express 
 and explicit revelation. 
 
 We make these general remarks, be- 
 cause our text is the utterance of an in- 
 dividual for whom we cannot perhaps 
 claim, on indubitable testimony, that he 
 spake by the Spirit of God. It is Eli- 
 phaz the Temanite who speaks, one of 
 those three friends of the afflicted Pa- 
 triarch Job, who "had made an appoint- 
 ment together to come to mourn with 
 him and to comfort him," but who vir- 
 tually did little but upbraid the sufferer, 
 aggravating his griefs by injurious sus- 
 picions, and false accusations. We are 
 naturally so disposed to feel angry with 
 men who dealt, to all appearance, so 
 harshly with one whose sorrow and pa- 
 tience should have secured him the most 
 tender sympathy, that it would not be 
 difficult to persuade ourselves that their 
 
THE SPECTRE S SERMON A TRUISM. 
 
 29 
 
 discourses are not to be taken as part 
 and parcel of the inspired Scripture. 
 But we are able to show, by a simple 
 yet incontestable proof, that, if the Spirit 
 of God did not inspire these men, He 
 has given to their sayings, by placing 
 them within the inspired volume, much 
 of the weight which his own dictation 
 must always impart. 
 
 There is probably but one distinct 
 quotation in the New Testament from 
 the Book of Job. St. James, indeed, 
 refers generally to the history of Job, 
 but he does not adduce any words from 
 the narrative. St. Paul, however, in his 
 first Epistle to the Corinthians, lias 
 quoted from the Book, and that too, 
 with the form, " it is written," which 
 always serves, in the New Testament, 
 to mark what is quoted as part of Holy 
 Scripture, strictly so called. In order 
 to prove his proposition, " For the wis- 
 dom of this world is foolishness with 
 God," St. Paul states, " For it is writ- 
 ten, He taketh the wise in their own 
 craftiness." Now it is in the Book of 
 Job that these words are written; and 
 the observable thing is, that they are 
 not words uttered by Job himself, but 
 by that very person, Eliphaz the Te- 
 manite, who also delivers the words of 
 our text. We have, therefore, what 
 amounts to conclusive evidence, that, 
 whatever at times the injustice and false ; 
 reasoning of Eliphaz, the Spirit of God j 
 employed him, even as He afterwards 
 did Balaam, in delivering truths for the | 
 instruction of the world. 
 
 We have desired to make this clear 
 to you, before entering expressly on the 
 examination of the text, because we j 
 wished to guard against any suspicion, 
 that we might be laying too much stress 
 on a passage for which we could not 
 claim the full authority that belongs 
 to what the Holy Ghost has indited. 
 Though, indeed, if we could not thus 
 vindicate, in general, the inspired cha- 
 racterof the utterances of Eliphaz, there 
 would be little room for doubting, that, 
 in the particular instance which has to 
 come under review, this Temanite spake 
 by the direction of God. He recounts 
 a vision ; he records words which were 
 mysteriously brought to him amid the 
 deep silence of the night ; and if we 
 could not carry further our confidence 
 in what he said, we might, at least, be 
 sure that what he affirmed had actually 
 
 taken place, and that words, which he 
 quoted as delivered to him by an un- 
 earthly voice, had indeed been breathed 
 in so startling and impressive a maimer. 
 On every account, therefore, we can 
 plead for our text as having all that claim 
 on your reverential attention which be- 
 longs to inspiration in its highest degree. 
 Come, then, with us ; and as Eliphaz 
 records what he saw, and what he heard, 
 attend as you would to the utterances 
 of a messenger from the invisible world. 
 We do not want to make the blood run 
 cold, nor to thrill you with a strange 
 and undefinable dread. But, neverthe- 
 less, we would use the wild and awful 
 circumstances of the vision to give so- 
 lemnity to the truth which is brought to 
 our notice ; for it may be that with you, 
 as with Eliphaz, there will be a listen- 
 ing with greater abstraction and intense- 
 ness of feeling, if it be from a dim and 
 flitting image, and after a deep porten- 
 tous silence, that you hear the questions 
 asked, " Shall mortal man be more just 
 than God ? shall a man be moi'e pure 
 than his maker ? " 
 
 Now there can be no dispute that we 
 have, in the narrative of Eliphaz, the ac- 
 count of an apparition : a purely spirit- 
 ual being, such as an angel, assumed a 
 visible though indescribable form, and 
 stood before Eliphaz in the stillness of 
 the night. It is generally regarded as 
 proof of a weak and superstitious mind, 
 to put faith in what are termed ghost 
 stories, tales of apparitions, whether of 
 the dead, or of unknown visitants from 
 the spiritual world. But we do not see 
 why so much of scepticism and ridicule 
 should be afloat on the matter of alleged 
 apparitions. We see nothing, whether 
 in the statements of Scripture, or the 
 deductions of reason, from which to de- 
 cide that there cannot be apparitions ; 
 that the invisible state may never com- 
 municate with the visible through the 
 instrumentality of phantoms, strange and 
 boding forms that are manifestly not of 
 this earth. And if you cannot show, 
 either from revelation, or from the na- 
 ture of things, that apparitions are im- 
 possible, of course the truth or falsehood 
 of any alleged case is simply dependent 
 on testimony — no amount of testimony 
 could make me believe that a known 
 impossibility had taken place; but any 
 thing short of a known impossibility 
 might be substantiated by evidence ; 
 
30 
 
 THE SPECTRE'S SERMON A TRUISM. 
 
 and cei-tainly, therefore, an apparition 
 may be substantiated, for no one will 
 ever prove the actual impossibility. 
 There may easily be a weak and fond 
 credulity in regard of ghosts and appa- 
 ritions ; but there may be also, we be- 
 lieve, a cold and hard scepticism : and 
 knowing how thin is the vail which 
 hangs between the visible and invisible 
 worlds, and how transparent that vail is 
 to spiritual beings, though impervious 
 to mortal sight, it might be better for us 
 to be classed with the credulous — if it 
 be credulity to yield on sufficient testi- 
 mony — than with those who are too en- 
 lightened to be superstitious, if super- 
 stition be the thinking that God, for wise 
 purposes, may sometimes draw aside 
 the vail, or make it transparent on this 
 side as well as on the other. 
 
 Neither should we wonder if much 
 of that dogged resistance, which is op- 
 posed to the best authenticated narra- 
 tives of apparitions, may be traced to 
 men's repugnance to the being brought 
 into contact with the invisible world. 
 They instinctively sin-ink from commu- 
 nion with a state, which their irrepressi- 
 ble fears j^eo-pta with dark and fitful 
 imagery ; and it is, therefore, with them 
 a sort of self-defence, to take refuge in 
 a thorough scorn of the possibility, that 
 spirits, which are verily around them, 
 might assume human shape, and become 
 on a sudden visible and vocal. 
 
 It is moreover worth observing, that 
 the Bible, so far from discountenancing 
 the notion of apparitions, may be said 
 to give it the weight of its testimony, 
 and that too in more than one instance. 
 We have already remarked that no more 
 thorough case of apparition can be even 
 imagined, than is put upon record in the 
 narrative of Eliphaz. You could not 
 find, in the most marvellous of ghost 
 stories, more of supernatural demonstra- 
 tion, nor more of that paralyzing effect, 
 which, ever since sin separated between 
 man and God, appears produced, even 
 on the best, by visitations from the spi- 
 ritual world. The passing of the spirit 
 before the face of Eliphaz ; the stand- 
 ing up of the hair of his flesh ; the in- 
 distinctness, yet truth of the image, so 
 that no straining of the eye could make 
 the form definite, nor any cause it to dis- 
 perse; and then, after a solemn pause, 
 the deep oracular voice, burdened with 
 weighty question — why, there is nothing 
 
 in any book, whether of fiction or fact, 
 which takes greater hold on the imagi- 
 nation, or more exquisitely portrays 
 what might be supposed a case of ap- 
 parition. If every subsequent tale of 
 supernatural appearance be invention 
 or fable, at least the fable is modelled 
 after a true story ; and we should have 
 Scripture from which to prove that there 
 might come an apparation, if we had no 
 human record whatsoever that any had 
 been seen. 
 
 Besides — for it might with some 
 justice be said that what happened in 
 early days, when revelation was scant, 
 and God supplied the want by immedi- 
 ate intercourse, ou^ht not to be taken 
 in proof of what may happen in later — 
 if you observe what is recorded of the 
 apostles of Christ, you will find that the 
 notion of apparitions was not only com- 
 monly entertained, but that it passed 
 unrebuked by our Savior Himself. 
 When Christ approached his disciples, 
 walking on the sea, we read, " They 
 were troubled, saying, It is a spirit, and 
 they cried out for fear." They evident- 
 ly supposed that there might be an ap- 
 parition, that a spirit might assume hu- 
 man form ; and though you may say 
 that this arose only from the ignorance 
 and superstition of the disciples, it is, 
 at least, observable that our Lord pro- 
 ceeded immediately to quiet their ap- 
 prehensions, but not to correct their 
 mistake — " Be of good cheer ; it is I ; 
 be not afraid." 
 
 On the occasion, moreover, of his 
 own Resurrection, he gave yet stronger 
 countenance to the notion that spirits 
 might appear. When he stood sudden- 
 ly in the midst of the assembled disci- 
 ples, having entered the chambers though 
 the doors were closed, " they were ter- 
 rified and affrighted, and supposed that 
 they had seen a spirit." That Christ 
 should have obtained admission, not- 
 withstanding the barred entrance, was 
 a similar phenomenon to his treading 
 the waters as though they had been a 
 solid pavement ; and the disciples took 
 refuge in the same supposition, that it 
 was no human being, such as one of 
 themselves, but a spectral thing, which 
 could thus set at nought the laws to 
 which matter is subject. And though 
 it does not appear that, on this occasion, 
 they expressed their apprehensions, 
 Christ knew their thoughts, and at once 
 
THE SPECTRE S SERMON A TRUISM. 
 
 took pains to show them their error. 
 But how I not by saying, there are no 
 such things as apparitions, and you are 
 weak, and ignorant, in imagining that 
 spirits ever take form, and come amongst 
 men — which is just what might have 
 been expected from our Lord, the great 
 teacher of the world, had there been an 
 error to correct — but by showing that He 
 Himself could not be a spirit, forasmuch 
 as He had all the attributes and acci- 
 dents of a body. " Behold my hands 
 and my feet, that it is I myself; handle 
 me and see ; for a spirit hath not flesh 
 and bones, as ye see me have." We 
 can hardly think that our Lord would 
 thus have given a criterion, as it were, 
 for distinguishing a spirit or an appari- 
 tion, were it indeed only the fable or 
 fancy of the credulous, that the tenant- 
 ry of the invisible world may occasion- 
 ally be sent by God with messages to 
 man, or that the grave may, to all ap- 
 pearance, give back its inhabitants for 
 the disclosure of foul deeds, or the 
 warning of tke living. 
 
 Of this only may we be persuaded, 
 that it would not be on any trivial or or- 
 dinary occasion that God drew the vail, 
 and commissioned spiritual beings to 
 appear upon earth. In some great crisis, 
 whether to nations or to individuals, He 
 might see fit to convey intimations 
 through the agency of a spectre, em- 
 ploying supernatural machinery to give 
 warning of a coming catastrophe, to 
 prepare a people for battle, or a sinner 
 for dissolution. The rich man, whilst 
 he tossed on the fires of hell, imagined 
 that if the dead Lazarus were permitted 
 to revisit the earth, and to appear 
 amongst his brethren in the midst of 
 their carelessness and revelry, the effect 
 would be to stir them to repentance, 
 and so prevent their joining him in his 
 place of deep torment. And therefore 
 did He passionately beseech that the 
 apparition might be sent, and that the 
 beggar might stand before his dissolute 
 kinsmen in the startling form of one 
 risen from the grave. The request was 
 denied : but it was not denied on the 
 principle that the case was not one for 
 supernatural interference, but on the 
 reason that they, who could resist the 
 teaching of Moses and the prophets, 
 would remain unpersuaded by the warn- 
 ings of a spirit. 
 
 It was the sort of case in which we 
 
 might look for the apparition, so far as 
 its importance was concerned. But it 
 is not God's method, to employ extra- 
 ordinary means, when ordinary ought 
 to have sufficed ; and, therefore, they 
 who yield not to the ministrations of the 
 Gospel, and are not warned by daily 
 judgments and occurrences, must not 
 think to have the silences of the mid- 
 night broken by a mysterious voice, nor 
 the solitude of the chamber invaded by 
 a boding spectre, in order to their being 
 compelled to give heed to religion. It 
 is not that there might not be wrought, 
 in many instances, a beneficial and per- 
 manent effect on the careless and im- 
 penitent, through the medium of an ap- 
 parition. For though in the parable, to 
 which we have referred, it is stated that 
 they, who heard not Moses and the 
 prophets, would not " be persuaded 
 though one rose from the dead ; " this 
 can only be understood of such as have 
 listened to Moses and the prophets, and 
 remained unconvinced : there is yet a 
 vast number, even in a land flooded with 
 the light of revelation, who can hardly 
 be said to be cognizant of the Gospel ; 
 and, very possibly, upon these the spec- 
 tral messenger would produce great ef- 
 fect; though, forasmuch as their igno- 
 ranee of the Gospel may be traced to 
 their own negligence and wilfulness, it 
 is not to be expected, that, on their be- 
 half, shall graves be depopulated, and 
 wild unearthly phantoms make the night 
 terrible. 
 
 Still the general proposition remains, 
 that, if ever the vail which God hath 
 hung between the visible and the invisi- 
 ble world be withdrawn, so that, in 
 shape and bearing discernible by man, 
 a spirit cross the separating line, it must 
 be on some great and mighty occasion, 
 when an awful truth is to be delivered, 
 or a dread event foretold. And if any 
 thing can give solemnity to a message, 
 any thing persuade us of its being the 
 announcement of something deep and 
 momentous, it must be its being breath- 
 ed from spectral lips ; or that, in agree- 
 ment with the thrilling words which the 
 ghost of Samuel used to Saul in the 
 cave of the enchantress, one of the dead 
 hath been disquieted that he might bring 
 the communication. Come then, we 
 again say, it must be a vast and startling 
 truth which we have to lay before you : 
 it would not otherwise have been con- 
 
32 
 
 THE SPECTRE S SERMON A TRUISM. 
 
 veyed through the ministry of a spectre : 
 there would not otherwise have been 
 need of* an express revelation, and that, 
 too, by the voice (if a flitting figure, whose 
 pale and shadowy form caused the hair 
 of the spectator's flesh to stand up. If 
 there be deep words in Scripture, or 
 words to which we require extraordi- 
 nary testimony, surely they must be 
 those, which, in departure from all com- 
 mon course, God sent a spirit to utter — 
 and thus it was that these questions 
 were breathed, " Shall mortal man be 
 more just than God.' shall a man be 
 more pure than his Maker] " 
 
 And here we bring you to the point 
 which appears to us to require the being 
 closely examined. It is very certain, 
 that, on reading the account of the ap- 
 parition which stood before Eliphaz — 
 an apparition so mysteriously terrible, 
 that he declares, in the verse preceding 
 our text, " Fear came upon me, and 
 trembling, which made all my bones to 
 shake " — we naturally prepare ourselves 
 for some very momentous communica- 
 tion, for a truth which lay beyond the 
 reach of reason, or which was likely to 
 have remained undiscovered, had not 
 God thus strangely interposed, and con- 
 veyed it through an extraordinary chan- 
 nel. All that can be said as to the mode 
 of revelation in early, or patriarchal, 
 days, when visions were employed be- 
 cause as yet the Divine purposes were 
 not laid open to the world, only confirms 
 the expectation that it would be some 
 truth of overwhelming interest, scarce- 
 ly to be detected by the researches of 
 natural theology, with whose delivery a 
 spirit came charged. 
 
 But the question now is, whether 
 such an expectation be, in any measure, 
 answered ; whether, in other words, 
 there be any thing of apparent keeping 
 between the message itself, and the su- 
 pernatural machinery employed to give 
 it utterance. We do not think that, at 
 first sight, there is. Surely, if there be 
 an elementary truth, a truth, at least, 
 which every one who believes in the ex- 
 istence of a God may ascertain without 
 revelation, and must admit without ques- 
 tioning, it is, that man cannot be more 
 just than God, nor more pure than his 
 Maker. You might exclaim, We need 
 no angel from heaven to teach us this : 
 this follows immediately on the confes- 
 sion of a God : in no as:e of the world 
 
 can it have been necessary to teach 
 those, who believed in a God, that God 
 must be better and greater than them- 
 selves ; theoretically, at least, they must 
 always have, held this proposition, and 
 could not have required the being con- 
 firmed in it through a supernatural 
 visitation. 
 
 And however scanty may have been 
 the amount of express revelation in the 
 days of the Patriarch Job, there is no 
 debate that a pure theism was the creed 
 of himself and his friends : that they 
 must have been as well aware as our- 
 selves, and as ready to acknowledge, 
 that there existed a Being to whom 
 every other was tributary and inferior, 
 and whose perfections were further re- 
 moved than is heaven from earth, from 
 whatsoever may be likened to them in 
 human characteristics. We cannot well 
 doubt, that, had Eliphaz been asked, be- 
 fore the mysterious visitant came upon 
 him in the midnight, which he believed 
 the more just, and which the more juire, 
 man or his Maker, he would have an- 
 swered without hesitation, that there 
 could not be comparison ; he would 
 perhaps have expressed surprise, that 
 any one could have supposed that the 
 lofty Being who inhabiteth eternity, 
 might be rivalled in any excellence by 
 the creatures of a day. 
 
 But what then are we to gather from 
 the visit of the spectre ] wherefore was 
 there this departure from ordinary rules, 
 this sending of a special messenger from 
 the invisible world, if nothing were 
 communicated that was not already well 
 known, nothing but the most elementary 
 truth, which, even in the greatest dearth 
 of revelation, must have been accessi- 
 ble to all who, possessing any mind, em- 
 ployed it upon Deity 1 We readily own 
 that there is a great apparent discrep- 
 ancy between the employed instru- 
 mentality and the communicated mes- 
 sage. We should have quite expected 
 that the apparition would have an- 
 nounced some abstruse, mysterious pro- 
 position; that, as it was sent for the 
 purpose of affording instruction, its ut- 
 terances would not have been limited to 
 an ascertained and incontestable fact. 
 If there had been any thing that could 
 strictly have been called a revelation ; 
 if some property of Godhead had been 
 made known, which was not discovera- 
 ble by reason ; or if some intimation had 
 
THE SPECTRE S SERMON A TRUISM. 
 
 33 
 
 been granted of the wondrous scheme 
 of rescue which in the fulness of time was 
 to be acted out on the earth, there would 
 seem to us a sufficient end for the ap- 
 pearance of the spirit, or a keeping- be- 
 tween the purpose and the agency. 
 But to send a spectre, to send it with 
 every terrible accompaniment, so that it 
 seems to have chilled the blood and pal- 
 sied the tongue of the spectator, and to 
 give it nothing to say, but that God is 
 juster and purer than man — there does 
 indeed appear here a kind of incongru- 
 ity ; and we are bound to examine 
 whether there be not some lesson con- 
 veyed in the very circumstance of the 
 employment of a vision, when, accord- 
 ing to our apprehensions, there was no 
 need of supernatural teaching. And 
 forasmuch as we know assuredly that 
 the means which God employs are al- 
 ways the best, precisely adapted, and 
 never disproportioned, to the end, it must 
 rather become us to conclude that the 
 truth, which the apparition delivered, is 
 not so universally admitted as we sup- 
 pose, than to wonder that what every 
 one acknowledges should have received 
 so marvellous an attestation. 
 
 It is here that we come upon the chief 
 instructiveness of the passage. We 
 wish you indeed to contrast the solem- 
 nity and awfulness of the agency em- 
 ployed with the simplicity and common- 
 ness of the message delivered. But we 
 do not mean you to infer that the agency 
 was disproportioned to the message : 
 we rather call upon you to examine 
 whether, notwithstanding the ready con- 
 fession, the message be not one in re- 
 gard of which there is a secret infideli- 
 ty ; whether, in short, there be not often 
 needed some such instrumentality as 
 that of the spectre, to persuade even 
 ourselves that mortal man is neither 
 more just, nor more pure than his Maker. 
 
 We may suppose that Eliphaz ad- 
 duced the vision as applicable to the 
 circumstances of Job, who laboring 
 under most weighty affliction, would be 
 tempted to arraign the equity of the 
 Divine dispensations. It would not 
 have been surprising, in a measure it 
 would seem to have been the case, had 
 Job compared the righteousness of his 
 life with the severity of his lot, and had 
 he drawn from the comparison conclu- 
 sions unfavorable to the moral govern- 
 ment of God. Indeed, they who had 
 
 known the purity of the patriarch, and 
 then observed the fearful judgments by 
 which he was overtaken, must have had 
 need of strong faith to repress injurious 
 suspicions, and to justify to themselves 
 the ways of their Maker. Yea, so dif- 
 ficult was it to do this, without falling 
 into an opposite error, that the three 
 friends of Job could only defend God 
 by accusing the patriarch ; they vindi- 
 cated the judgments which were visible, 
 by supposing some wickedness which 
 had not been detected. Accordingly, 
 Eliphaz quoted what he had heard from 
 the apparition, as though to repress 
 what was struggling: in the breast of the 
 sufferer, or to assure all, who might be 
 staggered by his calamities, that God 
 must be clear in the matter, whatever 
 might be said as to man. It was as 
 much as to say, appearances are per- 
 plexing : judging from these alone, we 
 might decide against the Divine equity, 
 and suppose that even human beings 
 would act w r ith greater justice. But I 
 can tell you of an express communica- 
 tion from Heaven, intended to fortify 
 against such injurious suspicions : there 
 stood before me a messenger from the 
 invisible world, and in accents which 
 thrilled through the soul he denounced 
 the imagining that, under any possi- 
 ble circumstances, man can be juster 
 and more pure than God. 
 
 Thus the vision was probably grant- 
 ed, and certainly used, to oppose an in- 
 fidelity more or less secret — an infideli- 
 ty which, fostered by the troubles and 
 discrepancies of human estate, took the 
 Divine attributes as its subject, and 
 either limited or denied them altogeth- 
 er. And what say you, men and breth- 
 ren, as to there being- no such infidelity 
 amongst ourselves ] We are persuaded, 
 that, if you will search your own hearts, 
 you will find that you often give it some 
 measure of entertainment. We are per- 
 suaded of this in reorard both of God's 
 general dealings, and of his individual 
 or personal. 
 
 And, first, of God's general dealings, 
 of those of which the whole race, as a 
 body, is the subject. In spite of all the 
 demonstrations of theology — nay, in 
 spite of all the acknowledgments and 
 confessions of men, when pressed for an 
 answer — there is harbored a suspicion, 
 if not a persuasion, that God acted in a 
 manner unworthy of his perfections, 
 5 
 
34 
 
 THE SPECTRE S SERMON A TRUISM. 
 
 when He suffered Adam to fall, and en- 
 tailed a heritage of woe on myriads 
 which had no share in his transgres- 
 sion. There is so much of mystery 
 round the permission of evil ; it is ap- 
 parently so strange, that, for a single 
 fault, calamity and death should have 
 been made the portion of successive and 
 mighty generations ; that, reason how 
 we will, and prove what we will, num- 
 bers secretly cherish the thought that 
 there was injustice with God, or, if not 
 injustice, a defective benevolence. 
 
 We are not afraid of putting it to 
 your own consciences to attest the truth 
 of this. We are sure that many amongst 
 you will secretly acknowledge, that, 
 when they look on a world overrun 
 with sorrow, and, yet more, when they 
 think on the fire and the worm which 
 must constitute the future portion of 
 those who obey the evil passions roused 
 in them through the apostasy of Adam, 
 they feel as though there were some- 
 thing harsh and inexplicable in the dis- 
 pensation, something not to have been 
 expected from such a being as God, but 
 more or less at variance with the pre- 
 sumed attributes of his nature. And we 
 are not now about to expose the tho- 
 rough falseness of the opinion. We 
 have often done this. We have often 
 shown you, that, forasmuch as God had 
 all along determined the redemption of 
 man, it consisted as much with goodness 
 as with justice that He permitted his 
 fall — there having been provision, in 
 the mediatorial arrangement, for the be- 
 stowment of far greater happiness on 
 the race than it. lost through the origi- 
 nal sin. 
 
 But it is not our present business to 
 vindicate the equity of the dealings in 
 question : "we have simply to do with 
 the suitableness of sending an appari- 
 tion, when that equity might be the 
 burden of the message which it bore. 
 The point which lies for our inquiry, is 
 merely, whether such a supernatural 
 agency as was employed towards Eli- 
 phaz be, or be not, disproportioned to 
 the communication with which the spec- 
 tre was charged. And our belief is, 
 that there is no disproportion ; that, 
 even now, with all the aids which reve- 
 lation can supply, and with the glorious 
 things of redemption thrown open to 
 our view, there is frequently harbored 
 a feeling that God's ways were not 
 
 worthy of Himself, when He exposed 
 our first parents to temptation, and, hav- 
 ing suspended on a single act the inter- 
 ests of countless myriads, interfered not 
 to prevent the universal shipwreck. We 
 care not whether the feeling be openly 
 avouched, though that is far from rare 
 — enough that it is secretly cherished ; 
 and so long as any man, viewing the 
 condition of the world, and tracing that 
 condition to its cause, is disposed to ac- 
 cuse God of a want, whether of equity 
 or of benevolence, in regard of his first 
 dealings with our race, so long may it 
 be said that an apparition would be 
 suitably employed, if employed to de- 
 liver only such words as those which 
 the affrighted Eliphaz heai-d. I know 
 that you would expect, and very justly, 
 that, if the silence of the midnight is to 
 be broken by an unearthly voice, it 
 must be for the announcement of some 
 very great truth ; that, if you are to be 
 startled by a boding form, gliding to the 
 bedside, it must be on some extraordi- 
 nary occasion, and for some momentous 
 purpose. But we should find such an 
 occasion, and such a purpose, whereso- 
 ever there was a disposition to arraign 
 God's dealings with mankind, to doubt, 
 if not to deny, their thorough consistence 
 with the alleged attributes of his na- 
 ture. It is nothing to say that there is 
 already sufficient information, if there 
 be still a secret and lingering infidelity. 
 The sufficiency of the information may 
 be a reason against expecting a super- 
 natural visit ; but the fact of the infideli- 
 ty is proof of what would be the suit- 
 ableness of the visit. And though I 
 know of any one of you, that he has in 
 his hands the Bible, that amazing re- 
 gister of God's gracious purposes and 
 arrangements on behalf of the fallen 
 and lost, and that he attends the 
 ministrations of the Gospel, through 
 which is laid before him a scheme of 
 restoration far more than commensurate 
 with the ruin wrought by sin, yet I 
 should not be surprised, I should not, 
 that is, feel as though there were an 
 agency disproportioned to the need, 
 were I to hear of this man, that he had 
 been visited by such a form as that 
 which stood before Eliphaz, and, never- 
 theless, that this form had uttered only 
 the questions which Eliphaz heard. I 
 know too well how possible, how com- 
 mon, it is for men to be staggered by 
 
THE SPECTRE S SERMON A TRUISM. 
 
 35 
 
 the permission of evil, notwithstanding 
 what is revealed to them as to the final 
 prevalence of good. I know too well 
 what secret misgivings there are, what 
 questionings, what doubtings, what sus- 
 picions : and with what a distressed and 
 apprehensive look many survey the 
 aboundings both of iniquity and of 
 misery, as though they feared that on 
 so troubled a sea there could not sit 
 majestical the righteousness of the Lord. 
 And could I then think that an appari- 
 tion had been commissioned for a ne- 
 cessarily insufficient end, if commission- 
 ed only to declare the pre-eminent and 
 immutable attributes of the Most High 1 
 Not so : the means would, in no sense, 
 be disproportioned to the end, and the 
 end would be in every sense worthy of 
 the means. It might be that the cham- 
 ber, which the spectre invaded, was that 
 of one whose mind had long been ha- 
 rassed by the common doubts, and who, 
 despite the testimony of Scripture, was 
 wont to argue upon human principles in 
 respect of the fall, and to reach conclu- 
 sions derogatory to the Divine perfec- 
 tions. There are thousands such in 
 every division of Christendom — I doubt 
 not there are some, whether few or 
 many, amongst yourselves. Single me 
 out such an individual. I dare not pre- 
 dict, that, at some coming midnight, the 
 spectre will be at his side. I do not say 
 that he has right to expect a supernatu- 
 ral visit, when the ordinary means of in- 
 struction are so ready to his hand, and 
 so abundant in themselves. But this I 
 say — that I should see nothing to won- 
 der at, nothing to persuade me that God 
 had used extraordinary agency where it 
 was not required, if that individual came 
 to me, and told me, with all the indica- 
 tions of one who still quailed at the re- 
 membrance, that, in some deep silence, 
 and in some dark solitude, there had 
 hovered before him an indistinct form, 
 forcing itself to be felt as from the un- 
 seen world, by the creeping of the flesh, 
 and the standing of the hair; that there 
 had come forth from it a voice, such as 
 never issued from human thing ; and, 
 nevertheless, that the only utterances 
 thus syllabled in fearfulness and mystery, 
 were these simple questions, " Shall 
 mortal man be more just than God? 
 shall a man be more pure than his Ma- 
 ker]" 
 
 My brethren, will you be disposed to 
 
 say that we overstate facts, if we now 
 turn from the general dealings of God 
 to die individual, or personal, and con- 
 tend that the main of our foregoing ar- 
 gument is applicable without the change 
 of a letter 1 We have hitherto reason- 
 ed on a disposition towards questioning 
 the equity of those dealings of which 
 our whole race is the subject, as sprung 
 of a rebellious ancestry. We have con- 
 tended that such a disposition is com- 
 mon, notwithstanding the full testimo- 
 nies of revelation, so that numbers cher- 
 ish a seci'et infidelity, thinking man 
 more just than God, inasmuch as man 
 would not have permitted so ruinous a 
 thing as our first parents' fall. And we 
 have argued, that, so long as this secret 
 infidelity exists, it would not be without 
 sufficient cause that an apparition passed 
 the boundary line between the visible 
 and the invisible world, though it should 
 have nothing to utter but elementary 
 truth, like that heard by Eliphaz, truth 
 quite discoverable by reason, though you 
 keep out of sight the aids of revelation. 
 But now let us ask you whether that 
 very infidelity, which we have thus la- 
 bored to expose, does not gain power 
 over many, when individually subjected 
 to trials and afflictions ? Alas, how easy 
 is it to confess that God doeth all things 
 well, till his hand is on ourselves ; and 
 how common, then, to feel as though his 
 dealings were strange, and hard to be 
 justified. There is no more frequent 
 expression than such as this, " What a 
 mysterious Providence ! what a dark 
 dispensation ! " You can scarcely speak 
 to a Christian when in trouble, without 
 hearing some such words. Whether it 
 be the death of a child, or of a parent, 
 the loss of property, or the frustration 
 of some long-cherished plan, with which 
 he has been visited, his tone is com- 
 monly that of one to whom something 
 has happened which could not have been 
 looked for, and who cannot account for 
 the pel-mission of the evil. 
 
 Now we do not mean to say that there 
 are no such things as what are popular- 
 ly termed mysterious providences ; but 
 we are sure that the name is frequently 
 given where there is no mystery at all. 
 The end for which God appoints, or, 
 rather, permits affliction, is to turn men 
 to Himself, if they be yet the impeni- 
 tent, and to wean them more from the 
 world, if they be already converted. It 
 
THE SPECTRE'S SERMON A TRUISM. 
 
 can, therefore, in no case be actually 
 Burpriaing that affliction should come, 
 because even the most righteous are so 
 far from perfect, that, to their dying 
 day, they will need corrective discipline. 
 Where then, in strict truth, is the mys- 
 teriousncss of a dispensation, if we can 
 always sec the designed advantageous- 
 ness ( There is something of contradic- 
 tion here. The Christian tells me that 
 the death of his child is a dark dealing 
 — wherefore dark, if himself confesses 
 that he is not yet refined, as he should 
 be, from the dross of this earth, and, 
 therefore, has further need of passing 
 through the furnace ] He may not be 
 able to trace a connexion between the 
 particular sorrow and some particular 
 sin : he may not, that is, be able to as- 
 sign any one special reason for any one 
 special affliction — and so far there might 
 be mystery, were it, indeed, his business 
 to affix to every stripe an individual 
 cause — but he can see clearly enough 
 that he requires chastisement in the 
 general ; and how then can it be mys- 
 terious that chastisement should come 1 ? 
 
 And we cannot but feel, that, in a 
 variety of instances, this speaking of 
 the mysteriousness of a common dis- 
 pensation, indicates a secret doubt as to 
 the goodness or fitness of the dispensa- 
 tion : men would not be so ready to call 
 a thing inexplicable, if, all the while, 
 they felt that.it was wisely and benevo- 
 lently ordered. We do not mean to 
 say that a Christian may not, at one and 
 the same time, regard a dealing as mys- 
 terious, and feel it to be good : but 
 where mysteriousness is ascribed to 
 that for which there is evidently reason 
 in abundance, we have ground to sus- 
 pect that there is no real persuasion of 
 there being such reason at all. And 
 judge ye yourselves, ye to whom God 
 has been pleased to allot much of sor- 
 row, whether ye have not cherished a 
 secret suspicion that ye were dealt with 
 in a manner not to have been looked 
 for from One who knew your frame, and 
 remembered that ye were dust ; wheth- 
 er ye have not used what ye have called 
 the darkness of the dispensation, to 
 cover a doubt, if not a denial, of its 
 goodness ? 
 
 We would have you call to mind your 
 misgivings, when some beloved object 
 has lain dead in your houses, or your 
 rebellious questionings when trouble of 
 
 one kind or another has made way into 
 your families ; and you will hardly, we 
 think, be able to deny, that, in seasons 
 of affliction, there is a tendency, in the 
 face of all the testimony of Scripture 
 and experience, towards disbelieving the 
 fundamental attributes of God, or re- 
 garding his dispensations as at variance 
 with his perfections. Ah, if you want 
 evidence that the apparition, in bringing 
 the very simplest and most elementary 
 of messages, brought what was worthy 
 of a supernatural conveyance, you miffht 
 often find that evidence in the chamber 
 of some mourner who is weeping for 
 the dead. It may be that yonder moth- 
 er, as she looks on the rigid pale face 
 of her child, imagines herself resigned, 
 and professes her persuasion that God 
 hath smitten her in love. But doubts 
 are struggling in her mind; the afflic- 
 tion seems to her inexplicable : she 
 cannot understand why she should have 
 been thus visited : the Bible, indeed, 
 assures her of the compassion, the ten- 
 derness, of the Almighty ; but she turns 
 from comforting texts to the sad spec- 
 tacle before her — so young, so beautiful, 
 so gentle, would not a merciful being 
 have spared awhile that sweet flower ] 
 — and then the tears, which the light of 
 revelation had almost dried, break forth 
 again, and, though taken for the gush- 
 ings of nature, are rather the flowings 
 of unbelief. 
 
 Now is it not certain that this dis- 
 tracted and sorrowing parent requires 
 to have impressed upon her the most 
 elementary of truths, that God cannot 
 do wrong, that He cannot do other than 
 the best '? Whatever her theory, it is 
 practically this truth of which she wants 
 persuasion ; it is this truth in which 
 she has no thorough belief. And if, 
 then, it were to please God to vouch- 
 safe her a supernatural communication, 
 would it not be worthy of God, would 
 not the supernatural machinery be fitly 
 employed, if the message were nothing 
 more than that sent to Eliphaz 1 She 
 has the Bible : she has the revelation of 
 the Gospel : but, notwithstanding these, 
 she is secretly distrustful of God, and 
 inclined to arraign the goodness of his 
 dealings. Then I do not know, that, as 
 she sits there, and wails over the dead, 
 a shadowy thing will pass before her, 
 and brinor words from above. But this 
 
 O 
 
 I know — that, if an apparition were to 
 
THE SPECTRES SERMON A TRUISM. 
 
 37 
 
 enter, and stand, in its uncarthliness, at 
 the side of the coffin where her child 
 lies so still, the most appropriate mes- 
 sage which the spectre could deliver, 
 would be the simple one which was 
 brought so thrillingly to Eliphaz. Ay, 
 that mother might rush from her cham- 
 ber with the scared and wan look of 
 one who had gazed on the being of 
 another sphere ; and she might relate 
 to me, circumstantially and convincingly, 
 how, in the darkened room, and amid 
 that silence which is the more oppres- 
 sive because it makes every sob so dis- 
 tinct, she had been confronted by a form 
 whose very mystery proved it an inhabi- 
 tant of the invisible world. But when 
 she had collected herself sufficiently to 
 tell me what the spectre had said, I 
 should expect to hear nothing of new 
 revelation, nothing as to the state of the 
 departed, nothing as to the happiness 
 of heaven. I should expect, as most 
 precisely what she needed, and there- 
 fore as most likely to be thus strangely 
 transmitted, that the apparition, which 
 had made the hair of her flesh stand up, 
 would have left these words printed on 
 her mind, " Shall mortal man be more 
 just than God 1 shall a man be more 
 pure than his Maker 1 " 
 
 And thus we may, perhaps, have done 
 something towards removing the appear- 
 ance of disproportion between the ve- 
 hicle employed and the message con- 
 veyed — the vehicle supernatural, the 
 message the most simple, and apparent- 
 ly not needing the being delivered at 
 all. I do not know whether you may 
 have been used to observe the dispro- 
 portion ; but, certainly, to my own 
 mind it is very striking. I almost trem- 
 ble at the description which Eliphaz 
 gives of the spirit. I feel sure that this 
 dim and awful visitant must have come 
 for a momentous and extraordinary pur- 
 pose. I prepare myself, accordingly, 
 to hear from his lips some deep, 
 majestic, and perhaps inscrutable, 
 truth — when, lo, there is nothing ut- 
 tered but what evei - y child knows, what 
 every one believes, in believing a 
 God. Our great object has been to 
 show you, that, simple as the truth 
 is, and unhesitatingly acknowledged, 
 it is nevertheless one in regard of 
 which there is a prevalent, though 
 secret unbelief, so that an apparition 
 would not be employed on what did not 
 
 need the being supernaturally taught, if 
 employed to enforce so elementary a 
 proposition. 
 
 And there is one general inference 
 which we wish to draw from the appa- 
 rent, though not actual disproportion. 
 It is this — that truths, which we never 
 think of disputing, may be those which 
 practically we are most in the habit of 
 forgetting. It is of well-known things 
 that a spectre must speak to us, if it 
 would speak of what it is important that 
 we know. The apparition is not need- 
 ed to impart new truth, but to impress 
 old. O strange but actual condition of 
 man — that, if a spirit were sent to him 
 with a message for his good, it would 
 be only of things with which he has long 
 been familiar. The apparition enters 
 the chamber of the man of pleasure — 
 what says it to the terrified voluptuary ] 
 "All flesh is grass, and all the glory of 
 man as the flower of grass. " Why, he 
 knew this before ; he has heard it a 
 thousand times — yes; but this is what 
 he practically disbelieves : he lives as 
 though he were not to die, and, there- 
 fore, what he needs from the apparition 
 is the being told his mortality. The 
 gliding spectre goes stealthily to the 
 side of a miser ; as the wealthy accumu- 
 lator cowers and quails before the phan- 
 tom, in what words is he addressed ? 
 " We brought nothing into the world, 
 and it is certain that we can carry no- 
 thing out;" — why, this is no news: 
 must the sheeted dead come back to 
 tell a man this 1 no news, indeed — yet 
 this is what the covetous practically dis- 
 believes ; he hoards as though his riches 
 were to go with him into eternity ; and 
 therefore would the apparition be em- 
 ployed to the most necessary end, if 
 employed to give impressiveness to the 
 very tritest of truths. 
 
 It is the same in every other instance. 
 With every one of us there is some sim- 
 ple truth about which there is no dis- 
 pute, but to which there is no power ; 
 and if a spectre were sent with a mes- 
 sage, it would be this truth which it 
 would be most for our advantage that it 
 should deliver ; the delivery being need- 
 ed, not to increase our knowledge, but 
 to make the knowledge influential. 
 Alas ! alas ! is not this true in regard 
 of all the uncontroverted in the present 
 assembly ] Spirits of the dead, appear 
 amongst us. Rise as shadowy, vapory 
 
38 
 
 VARIOUS OPINIONS. 
 
 things, and preach, in the name of the 
 living God, to the men and the women 
 who yet care nothing for their souls. 
 "What will they say 1 " Except ye re- 
 pent, ye shall all likewise perish. " 
 Why, I have preached this to you a 
 hundred times : ye have heard it, till ye 
 are wearied by the repetition. And 
 yet, if we want spectres at all, we want 
 them only to deliver this common-place 
 truth : it might be effectual, as breathed 
 by their wild strange voices, though of- 
 ten uttered without avail by mine. 
 
 So that, it is not to tell you what is 
 new, but to make you feel what is old, 
 that we would invoke the phantoms, 
 and beseech them to arise. But they 
 come not — why should they ? ye must 
 be self-condemned, if your remaining in 
 danger of everlasting death be only 
 through your not acting on your know- 
 ledge. It is not a revelation which you 
 need : and therefore must you not ex- 
 
 pect that God will depart from ordinary 
 rules, and send serial beings to make 
 revelation more impressive. The spirits 
 will not appear now, to force you to 
 accept what you make light of when 
 offered through the ministrations of your 
 fellow men. But the spirits shall appear 
 hereafter. " Ten thousand times ten 
 thousand, and thousands of thousands " 
 shall be around the Judge. They shall 
 attest the equity of the sentence which 
 dooms to destruction those who have 
 put from them pardon through Christ. 
 I hear the words that were heard by 
 Eliphaz — if, for a moment, those ap- 
 pointed to the fire and the shame at- 
 tempt to arraign the justice of their 
 portion, a voice like the voice of many 
 thunderings, or of mighty waters, bursts 
 from the throng, the countless throng, of 
 spirits, " Shall mortal man be more just 
 than God 1 shall man be more pure than 
 his Maker]" 
 
 SERMON V. 
 
 VARIOUS OPINIONS. 
 
 " Many of the people therefore, when they heard this sayin?, said, Of a truth this is the Prophet. Others said, This 
 is the Christ. But some said, Shall Christ come out of Galilee? Hath not the Scripture said, That Christ cometh 
 of the seed of David, and out of the town of Bethlehem, where David was? "—St. John vii. 40, 41, 42. 
 
 "We often speak of the great changes 
 and revolutions which have occurred in 
 the world : history is considered as lit- 
 tle else than the record of the rise and 
 fall of communities, families, and indi- 
 viduals. But, throughout the long se- 
 ries of vicissitudes, there may be traced 
 much of what is permanent and perpet- 
 ual ; so that, probably, sameness or uni- 
 formity is as truly the characteristic of 
 human history as variety or diversity. It 
 may, for example, be always ascertain- 
 ed by a careful observer, that the same 
 
 principles have pervaded God's moral 
 government : amid all changes and 
 chances, it can be seen that an overruling 
 providence has been at work, guiding 
 the complicated instrumentality, and di- 
 recting it to the futherance of certain 
 fixed purposes and ends. It may also 
 be perceived that the elements of human 
 character have throughout been the 
 same : man has changed in his fortune 
 and position, but not in himself: you 
 find him in the most opposite conditions, 
 according as civilization is advanced or 
 
VARIOUS OPINIONS. 
 
 39 
 
 defective, according as power is be- 
 stowed or withheld ; but you never find 
 him other than a creature inclined to 
 evil, and not liking to " retain God in 
 his thoughts. " 
 
 This sameness in human character 
 might be traced in the minutest parti- 
 culars. Not but what there are many 
 and marked differences between the sa- 
 vage, and the man of a polished age and 
 community ; but they are not differences 
 in the staple, so to speak, of the moral 
 constitution; you might in any given 
 case make the one out of the other, and 
 still have the same enmity to God and 
 to righteousness, because you would 
 still have the same depraved heart. And 
 forasmuch as the human heart, in its un- 
 renewed state, has all along been the 
 same, answering always to the scriptural 
 description, "deceitful above all things 
 and desperately wicked," there can be 
 no surprise that so great sameness may 
 be traced in man himself, notwithstand- 
 ing the perpetual shiftings of his con- 
 dition : you can expect nothing but that, 
 when viewed as the creature of God, he 
 should exhibit the same prejudice, op- 
 position, and dislike ; make similar ob- 
 jections to the divine dealings, and jus- 
 tify unbelief by similar fallacies. 
 
 It were beside our purpose to go into 
 evidence, on the present occasion, of the 
 moral, or religious sameness, which mav 
 be traced, we affirm, throughout the his- 
 tory of man. But our text, relating, as 
 it does, opinions and debatings of the 
 Jews with regard to our Lord, will give 
 us great opportunities of observing this 
 sameness in some particular cases. We 
 shall probably find that the sort of rea- 
 soning, by which the claims of Chris- 
 tianity were parried at its first introduc- 
 tion, is still practised amongst ourselves : 
 we may be compelled to say that men 
 are what they were more than eighteen 
 hundred years back, on discovering that 
 the grounds of scepticism are but little 
 shifted ; that modern indifference, or 
 unbelief, borrows from ancient its form 
 and apology. 
 
 Leaving this, however, to open upon 
 us as we advance with our subject — or 
 rather, preparing you by it to expect 
 that we shall turn much of our discourse 
 on resemblances between the Jews and 
 ourselves — we will go straightway to the 
 scene presented by the text : we will 
 hearken to the various and conflicting 
 
 sentiments which are being expressed 
 in regard of our Redeemer; and we 
 will see whether we may not find mat- 
 ter of instruction and warning, as some 
 call Him the Prophet, some the Christ. 
 whilst others are asking, whether it be 
 not indeed contrary to Scripture, thav 
 the Christ should come out of Galilee } 
 
 Now the first parties introduced into 
 our text, are those who were disposec 
 to recognize in our Lord a teacher sen 
 from God: for though it is not quite 
 clear whom they intended by "the Pro 
 phet " — whether Him of whom Mosee 
 had spoken, "a Prophet shall the Lord 
 your God raise up unto you of your 
 brethren, like unto me," and who wae 
 none other than Messiah Himself; or 
 whether that Prophet who was gene- 
 rally expected as the forerunner of the 
 Messiah — there can be no question that 
 they meant some one with a commission 
 from above, some instructor, authorised 
 by God to deliver intimations of his pur- 
 pose and will. Probably, indeed, they 
 who call our Lord "the Prophet," did 
 not thereby mean the Christ; for the 
 Evangelist makes two classes, those 
 who confessed " the Prophet " in our 
 Savior, and those who confessed the 
 Christ ; and this he would hardly have 
 done, had the same personage been in- 
 tended, but under different names. In 
 either case, however, — and this is all 
 with which we are at present concern- 
 ed — a teacher with divine authority was 
 evidently recognized : something had 
 been done, or said, by our Lord, which 
 produced a conviction — though it may 
 have been only transient, and without 
 practical results — that He was no de- 
 ceiver, no enthusiast ; but that He spake 
 in God's name, and bore his commis- 
 sion. 
 
 And it will be very interesting to ob- 
 serve what had been the immediate pro- 
 ducing cause of this conviction ; for we 
 so generally find our Lord treated with 
 contempt and neglect, his miracles be- 
 ing ascribed to Beelzebub, and his dis- 
 courses listened to with apparent indif- 
 ference, that we naturally look for some- 
 thing- very memorable in the doing- or 
 the saying, which could influence the 
 multitude to regard with favor his claims. 
 
 It was not, as you learn from the first 
 verse of our text, any action of Christ 
 which wrought this effect: He had not 
 just then been working one of his more 
 
40 
 
 VARIOUS OPINIONS. 
 
 stupendous miracles ; though this, you 
 may think, would most readily have ex- 
 plained the sudden conviction of his be- 
 ing Messiah. The effect is expressly 
 attributed to a "saying" of our Lord. 
 " Many of the people therefore, when 
 they heard this saying, said, Of a truth 
 this is the Prophet." And what was 
 the wonder-working saying 1 Those of 
 you who do not remember, will be apt 
 to imagine that the saying must have 
 been one of extraordinary power, some 
 mighty assertion of divinity, or, perhaps, 
 some verification in himself of ancient 
 prophecy, too complete and striking to 
 be resisted, even by Jewish unbelief. 
 Certainly were it put to us to conjec- 
 ture a saying by which Christ was likely 
 to have overcome for a time the general 
 infidelity, it would be natural for us to 
 fix on some sublime and magnificent 
 announcement, some application of 
 Scripture, or some declaration of su- 
 premacy, which carried with it startling 
 evidence of unearthly authority. And 
 we are far from wishing to imply that 
 the actual saying of our Lord was not 
 of the kind which would be thus readily 
 supposed ; but at first sight, at least, it 
 scarcely seems such as might have na- 
 turally been expected. You find the 
 saying in the thirty-seventh verse of the 
 chapter. "In the last day, that great 
 day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried, 
 saying, If any man thirst, let him come 
 unto me, and drink." This was the 
 wonder-working saying. Our Lord in- 
 deed proceeded, in the following verse, 
 to bear out, as it were, the saying by a 
 quotation from ancient Scripture, " He 
 that believeth on me, as the Scripture 
 hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers 
 of living water." But it is evident enough 
 that this is only given in illustration, or 
 vindication of the saying; so that still 
 the saying, on which many of the people 
 yielded, was the simple invitation in the 
 thirty-seventh verse. 
 
 And it ought not to be overlooked, 
 that, before the Evangelist describes the 
 effect of the saying on the people, he in- 
 troduces, in a parenthesis, a comment 
 on the saying. It is very unusual with 
 the sacred writers to affix any explana- 
 tion of the meaning of our Lord : but 
 this is one of the rare cases in which a 
 commentary is subjoined; for St. John 
 adds, " But this spake he of the Spirit 
 which they that believe on him should 
 
 receive ; for the Holy Ghost was not yet 
 given, because that Jesus was not yet 
 glorified." This is very observable, be- 
 cause, by adding an explanation of the 
 saying, the Evangelist would seem to 
 imply that it was, in a measure, difficult 
 or obscure : nevertheless, it wrought 
 with sin-prising energy on a great mass 
 of hearers : simple as it seems to us, 
 dark as, in some respects, it must have 
 been counted by St. John, it succeeded 
 at once, if not in permanently attaching 
 numbers to Christ's side, yet in wring- 
 ing from them a confession that He 
 could be none other than a divinely sent 
 teacher. Here, then, we have a point 
 of very great interest to examine. Let 
 us separate it from the remainder of the 
 text, and set ourselves simply to con- 
 sider what there was in the saying which 
 our Lord had uttered, to induce many 
 of the people to exclaim, "Of a truth 
 this is the Prophet, and others, This is 
 the Christ." 
 
 Now you will observe at once, that 
 the saying before us is one of those gra- 
 cious invitations, into which may be said 
 to be gathered the whole Gospel of 
 Christ. It demands, indeed, a sense of 
 want, the feeling of thirst: but if there 
 be this, it proffers an abundant supply. 
 "If any man thirst, let him come unto 
 me and drink." And by adding a refer- 
 ence to Scriptures, which, though not 
 then fully understood, could only be in- 
 terpreted of some measure and kind of 
 supernatural influence, our blessed Lord 
 may be considered as intimating, that 
 what He promised to the thirsty was a 
 spiritual gift, the satisfying of desires af- 
 ter God and immortality. Whatever the 
 degree in which the promise may have 
 been understood, there can be no doubt 
 that it was received as relating to com- 
 munications of Divine grace, that it was 
 thought, or felt, to convey assurance of 
 instruction in the knowledge of Cod, 
 and of assistance in the great business 
 of saving the soul. 
 
 Here is the moral thirst, to which 
 every one must have been conscious 
 that our Lord had respect, and which is 
 not to be slaked at the springs of human 
 science, or of natural theology. And if 
 there were many, as there may have 
 been, in the throng surrounding Christ, 
 on the last and great day of the feast, 
 who, dissatisfied with the traditions of 
 the elders, felt the need of higher teach- 
 
VARIOUS OPINIONS. 
 
 41 
 
 
 incr in order to acquaintance with hea- 
 venly things, we may quite understand 
 how the gracious promise of living wa- 
 ters would come home to them, as meet- 
 ing their wants ; and how the felt suita- 
 bleness of the offer would pass with 
 them as an argument for the Divine mis- 
 sion of Him by whom it was made. 
 
 There is no difference here, according 
 to our introductory remarks, between 
 past days and our own : we have but to 
 transfer the scene to ourselves, and the 
 like invitation may produce the like ef- 
 fect. For the argument herein involved 
 is, after all, but that on which we have 
 often to touch, and which is based on 
 what we call the self-evidencing power 
 of the Bible, the power which there is 
 in it, quite apart from outward creden- 
 tials, of commending itself to the con- 
 science as the word of the Almighty. You 
 are all aware of the difference between 
 the external and the internal evidence 
 for the truth of Christianity. There is 
 a vast mass of external evidence in 
 miracles which have been wrought, and 
 prophecies which have been accom- 
 plished. But there is also a vast mass 
 of internal evidence, in the suitableness 
 of the revealed doctrines to man's ascer- 
 tained wants, in the exactness with 
 which the proposed remedy meets the 
 known disease. One man may be con- 
 vinced of the Divine mission of a teach- 
 er, by seeing him work wonders which 
 surpass human power; another, by hear- 
 ing him deliver truths which surpass 
 human discovery. A religion may com- 
 mend itself to me as having God for its 
 author, either by prodigies wrought in 
 its support, or by the nicety with which 
 it fits in to the whole mental and moral 
 constitution, to the complicated wants, 
 and the restless cravings, of a soul which 
 has sought in vain every where else for 
 supply and direction. 
 
 And this latter is the standing witness 
 for the Bible. The sinner who is con- 
 scious of exposure to the wrath of God, 
 and of utter inability in himself to ward 
 off destruction, will find in Christ so 
 precisely the Savior whom he needs, 
 and in the proffered aid of the Spirit so 
 exactly the help adapted to his circum- 
 stances, that there will seem to him no 
 room for doubt as to the truth of the 
 Gospel : like parts of one and the same 
 curious and intricate machine, the Bible, 
 and the human conscience and heart, so 
 
 fit in to each other, that there must have 
 been the same Author to all : it is felt, 
 even where there is no external demon- 
 stration, that He who wrote the book, 
 must have been He who made the man. 
 
 We do not, of course, mean that this 
 self-evidencing power of Scripture will 
 commend itself to all with the same 
 readiness, and urgency, as might a visi- 
 ble miracle performed in its support. 
 There is required a peculiar state of 
 mind, in order to the appreciating the 
 internal testimony : it springs mainly 
 from the correspondence between the 
 remedy and the disease, and cannot, 
 therefore, be detected except where the 
 disease has been felt. And you observe, 
 accordingly, that the saying of our Lord, 
 which is now under review, supposes a 
 sense of deficiency, or a feeling of want : 
 it invites only the thirsty : the thirsty 
 alone will be inclined to hearken to it : 
 but the thirsty will be attracted by its 
 preferring exactly what they feel that 
 they need. Thus with the everlasting 
 Gospel. It proposes a Savior to lost 
 sinners : they who feel themselves lost 
 sinners will quickly discern in Christ 
 such a Savior as they need : they who 
 are altogether void of such a feeling will 
 find in Him "no form, nor comeliness ; " 
 and if overcome by the external evi- 
 dence for the truth of Christianity, will 
 merely assent to it as to a barren specu- 
 lation, a question of history, about which, 
 even when professedly convinced, they 
 remain practically indifferent. 
 
 There is probably enough in these re- 
 marks to explain why it should have 
 been on the hearing a certain saying of 
 our Lord, as is expressly noted by the 
 Evangelist, that many of the people 
 were disposed to own Him for the Christ. 
 Do you wonder that such an effect 
 should not rather have followed on the 
 working of some miracle, than on the 
 utterance of some saying 1 Nay — you 
 are to observe that there is a state of 
 mind, a state aptly delineated by the 
 imagery of thirst, which is more acces- 
 sible to an appropriate doctrine than to 
 any outward demonstration : the thirsty 
 man feels the suitableness of a pi-omise 
 of water, and is at once disposed to close 
 with the proffer, without waiting for 
 si cos that He who makes it has author- 
 ity to deal with his case. 
 
 But, admitting that a doctrine may 
 prevail where even a miracle has no 
 6 
 
42 
 
 VARIOUS OPINIONS. 
 
 power, do you next wonder that the 
 saying, which wrought with so great 
 energy, should have been so simple and 
 unpretending as it is 1 Nay — we set 
 against this opinion the whole of what 
 has been advanced as to the self-evi- 
 dencing power of the Bible. I have 
 right to assume that there were many 
 in the crowd who thirsted ; and Christ 
 could not have spoken more immediately 
 to the consciences and hearts of such as 
 thirsted, than by inviting them to come 
 to Him that they might drink. Who 
 thirsts 1 the man who, feeling himself a 
 sinner, pants for the forgiveness of his 
 sins. The man who, conscious of ina- 
 bility, longs to be assisted in turning 
 unto God. The man who, made aware 
 of his immortality, craves endless hap- 
 piness. The man who, taught that God 
 is just, seeks eagerly to discover whe- 
 ther He can be also the justifier of the 
 fallen. What will these thirsty ones 
 listen to most readily? in what words 
 will they be most disposed to recognize 
 the vofce and the authority of truth ? 
 Certainly, as no message will so much 
 meet their need, none will so much 
 commend itself to them as proceeding 
 from God who best knows their wants, 
 as that which shows how thirst may be 
 satisfied, how the longing for forgive- 
 ness, for righteousness, for happiness, 
 on the part of sinful creatures, may be 
 appeased without violence, nay, rather, 
 with honor, to Divine justice and purity. 
 And though Christ did not go into all 
 these particulars, there was that in his 
 saying which addressed itself to every 
 case of spiritual thirst ; which no thirsty 
 man could fail to take to himself; so 
 that you have only to suppose that many 
 were thirsting in the crowd, and you 
 suppose many to whom the invitation 
 must have come home with the self- 
 evidencing power which we claim for 
 the Gospel. If there were not enough, 
 in so brief and unexplained a saying, 
 to prove that Christ came from God, 
 there was enough to incline those, 
 who were conscious of spiritual wants, 
 to receive teaching from One who offer- 
 ed the very thing of which they were 
 in quest. If the simple invitation were 
 not likely, of itself, to convince such as 
 had not heard of Him before of his be- 
 ing the Messiah, yet, when it came upon 
 anxious and craving minds, which had 
 already been moved by the fame of his 
 
 miracles, it was adapted to scatter all 
 doubts, and to turn into full persuasion 
 the growing conjecture. Miracles, of 
 themselves, cannot prove a Divine mis- 
 sion : they must be wrought in defence 
 of truth ; otherwise we may not ascribe 
 them to the finger of God. But He 
 who, having worked miracles to fix at- 
 tention on his doctrine, then proceeded 
 to utter doctrine which was as water to 
 the parched and wearied soul of man — 
 oh, he indeed left no place for unbelief, 
 save with those who were hewing out 
 broken cisterns for themselves, or fan- 
 cying that they could call up fountains 
 of their own in the desert. And thus, 
 if it could only have been in an imper- 
 fect degree that the self-evidencing 
 power, which is now so energetic in 
 Scripture, resided in the short saying to 
 which these remarks have respect, you 
 have only to bring into account the ac- 
 tual state of the multitude, as not unac- 
 quainted with the supernatural works 
 performed by our Lord, and you have 
 explanation enough why so great a dis- 
 position to acknowledge Him was called 
 forth by what He uttered on the last day 
 of the feast, why many of the people, 
 when they heard that saying, said, " Of 
 a truth, this is the Prophet, or this is 
 the Christ." 
 
 But now let us mix a train with the 
 crowd, and hearken to some other of 
 the opinions which are being passed to 
 and fro in regard of our SaviOr. There 
 is nothing like uniformity of sentiment : 
 they who are inclined to conclude that 
 He can be none other than the long- 
 promised Christ, find themselves met 
 with objections, objections which are all 
 the more formidable, because professing 
 to ground themselves on Scripture. 
 " But some said, Shall Christ come out 
 of Galilee ] " There is no attempt at 
 invalidating the miracles, or depreciating 
 the doctrines of our Lord ; but there 
 was a fatal argument, as these men urged, 
 against his bein^ the Messiah, an ar- 
 gument deduced from ancient prophecy, 
 which had expressly fixed the birthplace 
 and lineage of Christ. "Hath not the 
 scripture said, That Christ cometh of 
 the seed of David, and out of the town 
 of Bethlehem, where David was ?" 
 
 No doubt, Scripture had said this ; 
 and it. would have been an insuperable 
 objection to the claims of any one, pro- 
 fessimr. himself the Messiah, that he had 
 
VARIOUS OPINIONS. 
 
 43 
 
 not sprung of David's line, or not been 
 born in Bethlehem. If our Lord had 
 come out of Galilee, in the sense sup- 
 posed by those who made the objection, 
 it would be of no avail to multiply proofs 
 of his having been the Christ : the evi- 
 dence is against Him on one material 
 point, and the defect is not to be coun- 
 terbalanced by any amount of testimony 
 on other particulars. 
 
 But this is really among the most sur- 
 prising instances on record, of ignorance 
 or inattention, if we may not go further, 
 and accuse men of wilfully and unblush- 
 ingly upholding what they knew to be 
 false. It is hardly possible to imagine 
 a matter of fact that might have been 
 more readily ascertained, than that our 
 Lord had been born at Bethlehem, and 
 that his mother and reputed father were 
 of the lineage of David. For the mas- 
 sacre of the innocents, by the cruel or- 
 der of the tyrannical Herod, had made 
 his birth so conspicuous, that it almost 
 passes chanty, that any could have been 
 ignorant that He had not sprung from 
 Galilee. At all events, when his parent- 
 age and birthplace were associated with 
 so bloody a tragedy, a tragedy which 
 could not yet have faded from the popu- 
 lar mind, the very slightest inquiry would 
 have sufficed to correct so gross a mis- 
 apprehension. It has always seemed as 
 if God, in his over-ruling Providence, 
 made the fury of Herod subserve the 
 cause of the Gospel ; for there was no 
 one left but our Lord, who could prove 
 Himself to have been born in Bethlehem 
 on the expiration of Daniel's weeks of 
 years : all others, born about that time, 
 had perished by the sword; and, there- 
 fore, either He were the Messiah, or 
 prophecy had failed. 
 
 So that — to say the very least — had 
 men taken the smallest possible trouble, 
 they might have known that our Lord 
 was no Galilean in such sense as im- 
 peached the fulfilment of prophecy ; 
 but that, on the contrary, He had all 
 that evidence on his side which could 
 be drawn from parentage and birthplace. 
 They might have fixed on other predic- 
 tions in regard of the Messiah, the ac- 
 complishment of which in the person of 
 our Lord was not of sucli clear and easy 
 demonstration. But the predictions 
 which had to do with his nativity, were 
 just those on which we should have 
 fastened, as intelligible to all in their 
 
 meaning, and accessible to all in their 
 fulfilment. Yet so great was the popu- 
 lar indifference, or so strong the popular 
 prejudice, that a statement seems to have 
 gone uncontradicted through the land, 
 that the pretended Messiah was by birth 
 a Galilean : He passed by the name of 
 "Jesus of Nazareth ; " and this went in 
 proof that He was not born in Bethle- 
 hem. Ay, and it may even be gathered 
 from our text, that men were so glad of 
 some specious excuse for rejecting our 
 Lord, that, when his works, or his say- 
 ings, had almost constrained their belief 
 and adherence, they caught eagerly at 
 the shallow falsehood, and made it, with- 
 out farther evidence, a pretext for con- 
 tinued opposition. It does not seem that 
 when they who said, " This is the Pro- 
 phet," or, " This is the Christ," found 
 themselves met by the objection, " Shall 
 Christ come out of Galilee," they had 
 any reply to make : the impression from 
 the narrative is — especially if you couple 
 it with the known fact that very few of 
 the people joined themselves to our 
 Lord — that they considered the objec- 
 tion decisive ; that they were ignorant 
 of the facts of the case, and took no 
 pains to inform themselves better. In- 
 deed, we know not what fairer interpre- 
 tation to put upon the circumstance, 
 than that the eagerness to disprove the 
 pretensions of Jesus made men seize, 
 without examination, on any popular 
 mistake which seemed to justify unbe- 
 lief, and then avoid the finding out the 
 mistake, because they could not spare 
 so convenient an argument. However 
 numbers, such as are described in the 
 text, may have been at times half dis- 
 posed to acknowledge the Christ, the 
 secret wish of their hearts, as is clear 
 from the result, must all along have been 
 to the getting rid of so strict and uncom- 
 promising a teacher ; and all they want- 
 ed was something of a specious pretence 
 which might reconcile to their con- 
 science what their inclinations prescri- 
 bed. And it would be quite a treasure 
 to these waverers, to meet with what 
 might pass for a scriptural objection ; it 
 was like taking holy ground : it was 
 making rejection a positive duty : it left 
 them at liberty to admit the miracles, 
 and admire the doctrines, but, alas ! this 
 remarkable Personage did not answer 
 to certain tests laid down by the Pro- 
 phets, and there was no alternative to 
 
44 
 
 VARIOUS OPINIONS. 
 
 the refusing to receive Him as the pro- 
 mised Redeemer. 
 
 And when they once had hold of the 
 scriptural objection, they would be at 
 no pains to examine it carefully : there 
 would be danger in this; and, busied as 
 they were with a thousand other neces- 
 sary things, they might well be permit- 
 ted to take for granted what could 
 hardly have been alleged, except it had 
 been truth — Jesus universally parsed 
 for a Galilean, and mistake was insup- 
 posable in regard of a fact so easily as- 
 certained. O the deceitfulness of the 
 heart ! what force it will find in an ar- 
 gument which sides with its wishes, 
 what fallacy in another which opposes 
 them ! Think you that we exaggerate 
 what whs done by the Jews 1 Nay, we 
 shall presently have to show you that 
 they are not without their copyists even 
 amongst ourselves. But, at present, put, 
 if you can, any milder interpretation 
 on the registered facts. God might be 
 said to have inscribed the nativity of 
 our Lord on the walls of Bethlehem, in 
 the blood of its slaughtered infants. The 
 nativity, which produced such a tragedy, 
 could not have been difficult to ascertain, 
 could have required no labored research 
 into national archives, or family genealo- 
 gies. Any man then, who knew that 
 prophecy had fixed Bethlehem as the 
 place of Messiah's birth, might equally 
 have known, had he thought it worth 
 while to inquire, that there had He been 
 born who was called Jesus of Nazareth. 
 But men had an interest in remaining 
 deceived ; their wish was not that of as- 
 certaining truth, but rather that of find- 
 ing a specious apology for adhering to 
 falsehood. There is such a thing as 
 shrinking from inquiry, through a secret 
 dre*ad of finding oneself in the Wrong. 
 A man may abstain from asking a ques- 
 tion, because self-conscious that the an- 
 swer might oblige him to change an 
 opinion which he would rather not give 
 
 And this is what, from the evidence 
 before us, we charge upon the Jews. 
 Oh, it looked very fine to have Scripture 
 on their side ; the devil had used the 
 Bible in tempting our Lord, and they 
 could now use it in justifying their un- 
 belief. But " the sword of the Spirit, " 
 like every other sword, may be used for 
 suicide as well as for war. And if ever 
 so used, it was in this instance. A fact 
 
 had been predicted, and in characters 
 of blood had history registered the pre- 
 diction's fulfilment. Yet was the pre- 
 diction, which, for the trouble of ask- 
 ing, would have powerfully upheld our 
 Lord's claims, turned, on the credit of 
 an idle report, into a reason for their 
 utter rejection. And men, who were 
 just on the point of yielding to our Lord, 
 overcome whether by the majesty of his 
 miracles, or the sweetness of his dis- 
 courses, turned away from Him, and 
 sealed their own desti uction, because 
 they had no answer at hand, or took for 
 granted that none could be given, to an 
 objection which rested on a falsehood, 
 and the falsehood one which a breath 
 might have scattered, " Shall Christ 
 come out of Galilee? Hath not the 
 Scripture saith that Christ cometh of 
 the seed of David, and out of the 
 town of Bethlehem, where David was 1 " 
 
 And now, to recur to our introductory 
 remarks, which asserted a sameness in 
 human depravity and conduct, think ye 
 that the like to this is not of frequent 
 occurrence amongst ourselves 1 that the 
 Jews have no successors in that readi- 
 ness to disbelieve, which will seize on 
 any straw for an argument, and actually 
 be at pains to keep out of the way of 
 any opposite evidence 1 Nay, it is done 
 every day ; we need not search far to 
 be in possession of instances. 
 
 What is that scepticism which is of- 
 ten met with amongst the boastful and 
 young, that sickly infidelity, which it 
 were almost pity to attack with vehe- 
 mence, so manifestly unprepared is it 
 for vigorous defence 1 Is it the result 
 of deep reading, or careful investiga- 
 tion 1 nothing of the kind. The fashion- 
 able young man, the student at a hos- 
 pital, the orator at some juvenile literary 
 club, gets hold of some objection against 
 Christianity, which has a specious sound, 
 and a formidable look — all the better, if 
 it come out of the Bible itself, in the 
 shape of an alleged contradiction, or an 
 erroneous assertion ; and this is enough 
 for him ; he has his " Shall Ghrst come 
 out of Galilee 1 " and with one so de- 
 cisive an argument, why should he 
 trouble himself to search for any more] 
 Oh, no — you are quite right ; one sound 
 argument is as good as a host : I did 
 not blame the Jews for determining that 
 Jesus could not be the Christ, if He 
 had come out of Galilee ; no amount of 
 
VARIOUS OPINIONS. 
 
 45 
 
 evidence upon other points could have 
 outweighed this simple testimony against 
 
 Hi 
 
 im. 
 
 But the aspiring sceptic will not be 
 at the pains of inquiring into the strength 
 of his objection. He will not refer 
 to hooks, and, much less, to men better 
 informed than himself in order to know 
 whether the objection have not been at 
 least a hundred times refuted — and this 
 is our quarrel with him. He wishes to 
 continue deceived : it would be very dis- 
 tasteful to him to find himself in the 
 wrong, and, therefore, he would rather 
 avoid than seek the means of instruction. 
 We are bold to say of all the popular 
 arguments against the Bible, especially 
 of those drawn from the Bible itself, that 
 thev have been so often refuted, their 
 weakness and worthlessness so often 
 exposed, that only overbearing effron- 
 tery, or unpardonable ignorance, will 
 venture on repeating what is so worn 
 out and stale. It were really, if I may 
 use the expression, almost a refresh- 
 ment, to meet with something a little 
 new in sceptical objections. But it is 
 the same thing again and again — " Shall 
 Christ come out of Galilee % " and the 
 sceptic, like the Jew, has really only to 
 look round him, to ask a question, or 
 consult a book, and he would find that 
 Jesus did not come out of Galilee, but 
 " out of the town of Bethlehem, where 
 David was." God suffered infants to 
 be slain, that the Jewish unbelief might 
 be inexcusable ; and He has raised up 
 giants in his Church, whose writings 
 will ever be a rampart to the Bible, that 
 modern unbelief might be alike inexcus- 
 able. As easily may any one of you 
 who has met with an objection to 
 Christianity meet with its refutation, as 
 might the Jews, hearing that Jesus was 
 of Nazareth, have learned that He was 
 actually of Bethlehem. But, alas ! it 
 is with the young and conceited, as it 
 was with the Jews — there is a secret 
 wish to be rid of Christianity ; and it is 
 safer not to make too close inquiry, lest 
 it should only do away with a conve- 
 nient excuse. 
 
 And we do not give this case of the 
 youthful would-be sceptic, as the solita- 
 ry exemplification of" Shall Christ come 
 out of Galilee % " How fond are men 
 of getting hold of some one text of Scrip- 
 ture, and shielding themselves under it 
 from all the rest of the Bible ! Who 
 
 has not heard, " Be not righteous over- 
 much, " quoted, as though it excused a 
 man from endeavouring to be righteous 
 at all ' And " charity shall cover a mul- 
 titude of sins," is a most convenient pas- 
 sage : there is needed only a little mis- 
 interpretation, and a careful overlooking 
 of all other Scripture, and a man may 
 satisfy himself, that, by a little liberality 
 to the poor, he shall hide his misdoings, 
 or obtain their forgiveness. Every such 
 fastening on any single text, without 
 taking pains to examine and consider 
 whether there be not some great and 
 fundamental mistake, is but the repeti- 
 tion of what was done by the Jews ; 
 the Bible has said that Christ must come 
 out of Bethlehem ; and men are glad 
 enough, without any inquiry, to reject a 
 Gospel whose Author is reputed to have 
 come out of Nazareth. 
 
 Shall we give you other instances 1 
 If a man wish to depreciate baptism, or 
 the fitness that He who administers so 
 holy an- ordinance should have a com- 
 mission from God, he has his text, his 
 "Shall Christ come out of Galilee 1 ?" 
 St. Paul said to the Corinthians " I 
 thank God that I baptized none of you 
 save Crispus and Gaius. For Christ 
 sent me not to baptize, but to preach 
 the Gospel." Then St. Paul made but 
 little of baptism, and thought that the 
 administering it fell beneath his high 
 office ! Did he indeed ? why, this is 
 worse than the Jews : they had to trav- 
 el perhaps as far as to Bethlehem, to 
 ascertain their mistake, but you need 
 not go beyond the next verse to that 
 which you quote, " Lest any should say 
 that I had baptized in mine own name. " 
 Paul was thankful that he had baptized 
 but few ; for he judged, from the temper 
 of the Corinthian Church, that, had he 
 baptized many, it would only have en- 
 couraged that party-spirit which was so 
 utterly at variance with vital Christiani- 
 ty. And this is making light of Bap- 
 tism, or entitling any one to administer 
 it ! Alas, it seems of very little worth 
 that Jesus was actually born at Bethle- 
 hem, since his ordinary name is " Jesus 
 of Nazareth." 
 
 To take but one instance more. What 
 numbers declaim against an Established 
 Church ! how persuaded are they that 
 it is utterly unlawful for the civil power 
 to meddle with religion, to take direct 
 measures for the upholding Christianity, 
 
46 
 
 VARIOUS OPINIONS. 
 
 in place of leaving it to that purest and 
 most active instrumentality, " the volun- 
 tary principle." You may be sure that 
 these declaimers have their text : they 
 have their question, "Shall Christ come 
 out of Galilee," out of acts of parlia- 
 ment, and compulsory payments 1 Hath 
 He not said, " My kingdom is not of 
 this world 1 " O the triumphant tone 
 with which these words are uttered, the 
 complacency with which they are con- 
 sidered as settling the controversy, and 
 dissn-acino' endowments ! But have the 
 words any thing to do with the matter "? 
 in what sense did Christ mean that his 
 kingdom was not of this world ] Nay, 
 Bethlehem is not farther, in this case, 
 from Galilee, than in that last adduced. 
 They are both in one verse. " My 
 kingdom is not of this world ; if my 
 kingdom were of this world, then would 
 my servants fight that I should not be 
 delivered to the Jews." So then, the 
 sense, as hei'e defined, in which Christ's 
 kingdom is not of this world, is simply 
 that the sword is not to be used in its 
 defence. " If my kingdom were of this 
 world," my servants would fight like 
 other soldiers ; but it forbids persecution 
 and war ; so that it is " not of this 
 woidd," in the sense of allowing, or de- 
 pending on martial force or resistance. 
 What has this to do with Church Es- 
 tablishments 1 Alas ! this text, which 
 is noised from one end of the land to 
 the other, is, for all the world, the same 
 in the hands of its perverters, as "Hath 
 not the Scripture said that Christ cometh 
 out of Bethlehem? " in the hands of the 
 Jews. Because Christ was of Naza- 
 reth, as having lived there much, He 
 could not have been born in Bethlehem : 
 
 because his kingdom is not of this world, 
 as not permitting the slaughter of its 
 enemies, it cannot lawfully be fostered 
 by states which are its friends. 
 
 But we have no further space for mul- 
 tiplying instances. We have thrown 
 out a subject for thought ; and if you will 
 consider for yourselves, you will easily 
 find additional illustrations. It is no un- 
 common thing — this is our position — for 
 men to seize on some one verse or de- 
 claration of the Bible, and to make it 
 their excuse for clintnno: to a false theo- 
 ry, or neglecting a plain duty. Not that 
 in any case the verse, justly interpreted 
 and applied, will bear them out — no 
 more than the prophecy as to Bethle- 
 hem warranted the Jews in rejecting 
 Jesus of Nazareth. But there may be 
 an appearance of reason, something 
 plausible and specious ; and error can 
 never be more dangerous than when it 
 seems to have Scripture on its side. 
 The grand point then is, that you be on 
 your guard against arguing from bits of 
 the Bible, in place of studying the whole, 
 and comparing its several parts. " No 
 prophecy of the Scripture," and, in like 
 manner, no portion of the Scripture, " is 
 of any private interpretation." Settle the 
 meaning fairly, by searching, with pray- 
 er for God's Spirit, into the relation 
 which each statement bears to others, 
 and by examining the light which it de- 
 rives from them. The meaning, thus 
 ascertained, shall never, no, never be 
 contradicted by facts ; if it be clear from 
 the Bible that the Christ must be bom in 
 Bethlehem, it shall be always be found, 
 on examining, that our Lord was noL 
 born in Nazareth. 
 
THE MISREPRESENTATIONS OF EVE. 
 
 47 
 
 SERMON VI. 
 
 THE MISREPRESENTATIONS OF EVE. 
 
 " And the woman said unto the serpent, We may eat of the fruit of the trees of the garden : but of the fruit of the 
 tree which is in the midst of the garden, God hath said, Ye shall not eat of it, neither shall ye touch it, lest ye 
 die." — Genesis iii. 2, 3. 
 
 Whatever may have been the change 
 which passed over man in consequence 
 of sin, we are not to doubt that we re- 
 tain, in great measure, the same consti- 
 tution, weakened indeed and deranged, 
 but compounded of the same elements, 
 and possessing similar powers and ten- 
 dencies. There does not appear to have 
 been any essential difference between the 
 mode in which Satan tempted Eve, and 
 that wherein he would assault any one of 
 ourselves under similar circumstances. 
 Neither, so far as Eve allowed the 
 bodily senses to serve as instruments of 
 temptation, have we reason to think that 
 the trial at all differed from that to 
 which the like inlets subject ourselves. 
 The devil threw in a suspicion as to 
 the goodness of God, suggesting that 
 the restriction as to the not eating of a 
 particular fruit was harsh and uncalled 
 for, and insinuating, moreover, that the 
 results of disobedience would be just 
 the reverse of what had been threaten- 
 ed. And, certainly, this is much the 
 way in which Satan still proceeds : 
 whatever the commandment, our obedi- 
 ence to which is being put to the proof, 
 he tries to make us feel that the com- 
 mandment is unnecessarily severe, and 
 that, in all probability, the infringing it 
 will not be visited with such vengeance 
 as has been denounced.. 
 
 Thus also with regard to the bodily 
 senses. Eve was tempted through the 
 eye, for she saw that the tree was plea- 
 sant to the sight ; she was tempted also 
 through the appetite, for she saw that the 
 tree was good for food. And this was 
 precisely as the senses are now instru- 
 mental to the service of sin: no doubt 
 
 now that our nature has become depra- 
 ved, these senses are readier avenues 
 than before for the entrance of sin into 
 the heart : but, nevertheless, the eye and 
 the taste, in the instance of Eve before 
 she transgressed, acted a part of the very 
 same kind as they peform now in cases 
 of every day experience. 
 
 Indeed it ought to be observed that, 
 according to St. John, all the sin that 
 tempts mankind may be comprised in 
 these three tei*ms, " the lust of the flesh; 
 the lust of the eye, and the pride of life." 
 To these three may evidently be reduced 
 the temptation of our first parents : there 
 was "the lust of the flesh," in that the 
 fruit was desired as good for food ; " the 
 lust of the eye," in that the fruit was 
 pleasant to the sight ; and " the pride of 
 life," in that it was " to be desired to 
 make one wise." To the same three 
 may as evidently be reduced the tempta- 
 tion of the second Adam, the Lord Je- 
 sus Christ, who, on this very account, 
 may be declared to have been " tempted 
 in all points like as we are." Our 
 blessed Savior was assailed through 
 " the lust of the flesh," when tempted 
 to satisfy his hunger by turning stones 
 into br-ead. " The lust of the eye " was 
 employed, when the devil would have 
 had Him cast Himself from a pinnacle 
 of the Temple, and thus obtain, by an 
 useless and ostentatious miracle, the ap- 
 plauses of the crowd assembled there 
 for worship. And " the pride of life " 
 was appealed to, when Satan proffered 
 our Lord " all the kingdoms of the world 
 and their glory," on condition of his 
 falling down and worshipping him. 
 
 These three departments are still 
 
48 
 
 THE MISREPRESENTATIONS OF EVE. 
 
 those under which all sin may be ranged. 
 If you take any particular temptation, 
 you may always make it answer to one 
 of* the terms, " the lust of the flesh, the 
 lust of the eye, and the pride of life." 
 So that — to recur to our introductory 
 remark — there passed no such change 
 on human nature in consequence of 
 apostasy, as that the elements of our 
 constitution became different from what 
 they were. If our first parents, whilst 
 yet unfallen, were assailed in the same 
 way, and through the same channels, as 
 ourselves on whom they fastened coi-- 
 ruption : if our blessed Redeemer, who 
 took our nature without taint of oriiri- 
 nal sin, was tempted in the modes in 
 which temptation still makes its ap- 
 proaches ; we may most justly conclude 
 that our constitution remains what it 
 was, except, indeed, that our moral 
 powers have been grievously weakened, 
 and that a bias towards evil has been 
 laid on our affections, which places us 
 at a real disadvantage, whensoever as- 
 sailed by the world, the flesh, or the devil. 
 
 But when we have thus in a measure 
 identified our constitution with that of 
 our first pai'ents before they transgress- 
 ed, it is highly interesting and instruct- 
 ive to study all the circumstances of the 
 original temptation, and to see whether 
 they may not still be often, and accu- 
 rately paralleled. So long as we sepa- 
 rate, or so distinguish, ourselves from 
 our first parents in their unfallen state, 
 as though there had been an actual dif- 
 ference in nature, the account of the 
 original transgression is little more to 
 us than a curious record, from which we 
 can hardly think to derive many person- 
 al lessons. But when we have ascertain- 
 ed that our first parents were ourselves, 
 only with moral powers in unbroken 
 vigor, and with senses not yet degraded 
 to the service of evil, the history of 
 their fall assumes all the interest which 
 belongs to the narrative of events, which 
 not merely involve us in their conse- 
 quences, but the repetition of which is 
 likely to occur, and should be earnestly 
 guarded against. 
 
 We wish, therefore, on the present 
 occasion, to examine with all careful- 
 ness the workings of Eve's mind at 
 that critical moment when the devil, 
 under the form of a serpent, sought to 
 turn her away from her allegiance to 
 God. This is no mere curious exami- 
 
 nation, as it might indeed be, had Eve, 
 before she yielded to temptation, been 
 differently constituted from one of our- 
 selves. But i^ has been the object of 
 our foregoing remarks, to show you that 
 there was not this difference in consti- 
 tution : a piece of mechanism may have 
 its springs disordered and its workings 
 deranged ; but it is not a different piece 
 of mechanism from what it was when 
 every part was in perfect operation ; 
 and we may find, as we go on, that the 
 workings of Eve's mind were wonder- 
 fully similar to those of our own, so that 
 we shall not only sustain all our forego- 
 ing argument, but be able to present our 
 common mother as a warning, and to 
 derive from her fall instruction of the 
 most practical and personal kind. With- 
 out then further preface — though you 
 must bear in mind what we have ad- 
 vanced, that you may not think to evade 
 the application of the subject, by ima- 
 gining differences between Eve and 
 yourselves — let us go to the patient con- 
 sideration of the several statements of 
 our text ; let us examine what may be 
 gathered in regard of the exact state of 
 Eve's mind, from her mode of putting, 
 first, the permission of God, " We may 
 eat of the fruit of the trees of the gar- 
 den," and secondly, his prohibition, 
 " The fruit of the tree which is in the 
 midst of the garden, ye shall not eat of 
 it, neither shall ye touch it, lest ye die." 
 Now the point of time at which we 
 have to take Eve is one at which she is 
 evidently begimiing to waver : she has 
 allowed herself to be drawn into con- 
 versation with the serpent, which it 
 would have been wise in her, especially 
 as her husband was not by, to have de- 
 clined ; and there is a sort of unacknow- 
 ledged restlessness, an uneasiness of 
 feeling, as though God might not be 
 that all-wise and all-gracious Beintr 
 which she had hitherto supposed. She 
 has not yet, indeed, proceeded to actual 
 disobedience : but she is Clearly giving 
 some entertainment to doubts and sus- 
 picions : she has not yet broken God's 
 commandment ; but she is looking at it 
 with a disposition to question its good- 
 ness, and depreciate the risk of setting 
 it at nought. There .are certain preludes, 
 or approaches, towards sin, which, even 
 in ourselves, are scarcely to be designa- 
 ted sin, and which must have been still 
 farther removed from it in the unfallen 
 
THE MISREPRESENTATIONS OF EVE. 
 
 4D 
 
 Eve. You remember how St. James 
 speaks, ".Every man is tempted, when 
 he is drawn away of his own lust, and 
 enticed. Then when lust hath conceiv- 
 ed, it bringeth forth sin." The Apostle, 
 you observe, does not give the name of 
 sin to the first motions : if these motions 
 were duly resisted, as they might be, 
 the man would have been tempted, but 
 not have actually sinned. 
 
 And- if so much may be allowed of 
 ourselves, in whom inclinations and pro- 
 pensities are corrupted and depraved 
 through original sin, much more must 
 it have been true of Eve, when, if tot- 
 tering, she had not yet fallen from her 
 first estate. She was then still innocent : 
 but there were feeling-s at work which 
 were fast bringing her to the edge of 
 the precipice ; and it is on the indica- 
 tion of these feelings that, for the sake 
 of warning and example, we wish espe- 
 cially to fix your attention. 
 
 It was a large and liberal grant which 
 God had made to man of the trees of 
 the garden. " Of every tree of the gar- 
 den thou mayest freely eat." It is true, 
 indeed, there was one exception to this 
 permission : man was not to eat of " the 
 tree of the knowledge of good and evil ; " 
 but of every other tree he might not 
 only eat, he was told to "eat freely," 
 as though God would assure him of their 
 being all unreservedly at his disposal. 
 But now, observe, that, when Eve comes 
 to recount this generous grant, she 
 leaves out the word " freely," and thus 
 may be said to depreciate its liberality. 
 " We may eat of the fruit of the trees 
 of the garden." This is but a cold ver- 
 sion of the large-hearted words, " Of 
 every tree of the garden thou mayest 
 freely eat." She is evidently more dis- 
 posed to dwell on the solitary restriction 
 than on the generous permission : she 
 is thinking more of the hardship from 
 the one than of the privilege from the 
 other. It was a bad, a dangerous symp- 
 tom, that Eve suffered herself to look 
 slightingly on the rich mercies with 
 which she was blessed, and that she 
 could speak of those mercies, if not in 
 a disparaging tone, at least without that 
 grateful acknowledgement which their 
 abundance demanded. It laid her pe- 
 rilously open to the insinuations of Sa- 
 tan, that she was contrasting what she 
 had not, magnifying the latter, and de- 
 preciating the former. 
 
 But is not the symptom one which 
 may be frequently found amongst our- 
 selves ? Indeed it is ; and we point it 
 out in the instance of Eve, that each one 
 of you may learn to watch it in himself 
 There is in all of us a disposition to think 
 little of what God gives us to enjoy, and 
 much of what He gives us to suffer. It 
 may be but one tree which He with- 
 holds, and there may be a hundred 
 which He grants : but, alas ! the one, 
 because withheld, will seem to multiply 
 into the hundred, the hundred, because 
 granted, to shrink into the one. If He 
 take from us a single blessing, how much 
 more ready are we to complain as though 
 we had lost all, than to count up what 
 remain, and give Him thanks for the 
 multitude. He has but to forbid us a 
 single gratification, and, presently, we 
 speak as though He had dealt with us 
 with a churlish and niggardly hand, 
 though, were we to attempt to reckon 
 the evidences of his loving-kindness, 
 they are more in number than the hairs 
 of our head. And when we suffer our- 
 selves in any measure to speak, or think, 
 disparagingly of the mercies of God, it 
 is very evident that we are making way 
 for, if not actually indulging, suspicions 
 as to the goodness of God ; and it can- 
 not be necessary to prove that he, who 
 allows himself to doubt die Divine good- 
 ness, is preparing himself for the breach 
 of any and every commandment. 
 
 Learn then to be very watchful over 
 this moral symptom. Be very fearful 
 of depreciating your mercies. It shew- 
 ed an intenseness of danger in the in- 
 stance of Eve, that, when God had given 
 her permission to " eat freely," she could 
 speak of herself as permitted only to 
 " eat." There was no falsehood in her ac- 
 count of the permission : she does not 
 deny that she was allowed to eat of the 
 trees of the garden ; but there was a dis- 
 satisfied and querulous way of putting the 
 permission, as though she avoided the 
 word " freely," that she might not mag- 
 nify the riches of the Divine liberality. 
 And we warn you, by the fall of Eve, 
 against the allowing yourselves to think 
 slisfhtinoflv of vour mercies. It matters 
 not what may be your trials, what your 
 afflictions : — none of you can be so strip- 
 ped but what, if he will think over the 
 good which God has left in his posses- 
 sion, he will find. cause for acknowledg- 
 ing in God a gracious and a generous 
 7 
 
50 
 
 THE MISREPRESENTATIONS OF EVE. 
 
 benefactor. But if, because you are de- 
 barred from this or that enjoyment, or 
 because this or that blessing is placed 
 out of reach, you make little of, or com- 
 paratively forget, the rich gifts of God ; 
 ah ! then indeed there is a fearful pro- 
 bability of your being left to harden into 
 the unthankful and unbelieving : with 
 Eve, you may seem only to leave out 
 the word "freely;" but God, who is 
 jealous as well as generous, may punish 
 the omission by such withdrawment of 
 his grace as shall be followed by open 
 violation of his law. 
 
 O for hearts to magnify the Lord's 
 mercies, and count up his loving-kind- 
 nesses ! It is " freely " that He has 
 permitted us to eat of the trees of the 
 garden. He has imposed no harsh re- 
 strictions, none but what, shortsighted 
 though we are, we may already perceive 
 designed for our good. Placed as we 
 are amid a throng of mercies, rich fruits 
 already ripened for our use, and richer 
 maturing as our portion for eternity, 
 shall we speak of Him as though He 
 had dealt out sparingly the elements of 
 happiness I Shall we — just because 
 there is forbidden fruit, of which we are 
 assured that to eat it is to die ; or with- 
 ered fruit, of which we should believe 
 that it would not have been blighted un- 
 less to make us seek better — shall we 
 deny the exuberant provision which God 
 hath made for us as intelligent, account- 
 able creatures 1 Shall we forget the 
 abundance with which He has mantled 
 the earth, the gorgeous clusters with 
 which He has hung the firmament, the 
 blessings of the present life, the promi- 
 ses of a future, and the munificent grant 
 with which He has installed us as Chris- 
 tians into a sort of universal possession, 
 "All things are yours; ye are Christ's, 
 and Christ is God's % " 
 
 Nay, we again say, take ye good heed 
 of misrepresenting God, of depreciating 
 your mercies, of exaggerating your 
 losses. There cannot be a worse sign, 
 a sign of greater moral peril, than when 
 a man repines at what is lost, as though 
 there were not much more left, and 
 dwells more on God as withholding cer- 
 tain things, than as bestowing a thou- 
 sand times as many. And that you may 
 be aware of the dansrerousness of the 
 symptom, and thereby led to cultivate a 
 thankful spirit, a spirit disposed to com- 
 pare what God gives with what He de- 
 
 nies ; — a comparison which will always 
 make the latter seem little, because im- 
 measurably exceeded by the former — 
 study with all care the instance of Eve, 
 and observe that her first indication of 
 tottering towards her fatal apostasy lay in 
 this, that, when God had issued the large 
 and generous charter, " Of every tree 
 of the garden thou mayest freely eat," 
 she could reduce it into the cold and 
 measured allowance, " We may eat of 
 the fruit of the trees of the garden." 
 
 But we may go farther in tracing in 
 Eve the workings of a dissatisfied mind, 
 of a disposition to suspect God of harsh- 
 ness, notwithstanding the multiplied 
 evidences of his goodness. You are 
 next to observe how she speaks of the 
 prohibition in regard of " the tree of 
 knowledge of good and evil." She left 
 out a most important and significant 
 word in stating God's permission as to 
 the trees of the garden, and thus did 
 much to divest that permission of its 
 generous character. But she inserted 
 words when she came to mention the 
 prohibition, and by that means invested 
 it with more of strictness and severity 
 than God seems to have designed. The 
 prohibition as it issued from God was, 
 " Of the tree of the knowledge of °ood 
 and evil, thou shaft not eat of it." But 
 the prohibition as repeated by Eve was, 
 " Of the fruit of the tree which is in the 
 midst of the garden, God hath said, Ye 
 shall not eat of it, neither shall ye touch 
 it." She affirmed, you observe, that 
 God had forbidden the touching the fruit 
 as well as the eating of it; whereas it 
 does not appear that God had said any- 
 thing as to the touching. There misrht 
 indeed have been prudence in not touch- 
 ing what might not be eaten ; for he who 
 allowed himself to handle would be very 
 likely to allow himself to taste. Still, 
 the touching the fruit was not, as far as 
 we know, actually forbidden by God ; 
 and we may therefore say of Eve, that 
 she exaggerated the prohibition, even as 
 she had before disparaged the permis- 
 sion. 
 
 And you will readily perceive that 
 precisely the same temper or feeling 
 was at work when Eve exaggerated the 
 prohibition, and when she disparaged 
 the permission. There was in both cases 
 the s ame inclination to misrepresent God, 
 as though He dealt harshly with his 
 creatures : to leave out the word " free- 
 
THE MISREPRESENTATIONS OF EVE. 
 
 51 
 
 ly " was to make his grant look less 
 liberal ; to put in the words, " neither 
 shall ye touch it," was to make his law 
 look more rigid ; and it was evidently 
 the dictate of the same rising suspicion, 
 or a part of the same tacit accusation, 
 when Grod's gifts were depreciated, and 
 when his restrictions were magnified. 
 
 Alas for Eve, that she could thus as- 
 cribe harshness to God, and speak as 
 though He denied his creatures any ap- 
 proach towards knowledge. She might 
 as well have said that God had forbid- 
 den them to look upon the tree ; where- 
 as it is clear that not only might they 
 look at the fruit, but that the eye was 
 able to detect certain properties of the 
 fruit; for you read that "the woman 
 saw that the tree was good for food," 
 the color probably informing her some- 
 thing- of its nature. And we cannot tell 
 what additional information might have 
 been obtained through touching the fruit. 
 But if the eye could detect certain pro- 
 perties, the touch, in all probability, de- 
 tected more. Even in the darkness and 
 feebleness into which we have fallen, 
 each sense is instrumental to the ascer- 
 taining the qualities of substances; and 
 this power of the senses must have been 
 vastly greater in our first parents; Adam 
 gave names to every living creature, the 
 names undoubtedly being expressive of 
 the natures, and thus showed that he 
 could ascertain at once, without any in- 
 formant but himself, their several cha- 
 racteristics. 
 
 We may, therefore, reasonably infer 
 that, whilst eating of the tree of know- 
 ledge was distinctly forbidden, and thus 
 our first parents were debarred from 
 such discoveries as the sense of taste 
 might have imparted, they were able to 
 determine a great deal in regard of the 
 fruit, through their other senses, of 
 which they were allowed the unrestrict- 
 ed use. But Eve, you see, was disposed 
 to make out that God had extended his 
 prohibition to other senses besides that 
 of taste, and thus had prevented them 
 from making any advance towards the 
 knowledge of good and of evil. You 
 would have argued, from her version of 
 the prohibition, that God had altogether 
 enclosed, or shut up the tree, guarding 
 it with the most extreme jealousy and 
 rigor, so that there was no possibility of 
 detecting any of its properties. Where- 
 as the restriction was only on the ex- 
 
 amining the fruit, in and through that 
 sense which would make it bring- death ; 
 and there was the warrant of the Divine 
 word, that to taste would be to die. All 
 that could be learnt — and it was proba- 
 bly very considerable — from sight, and 
 touch, and scent, Adam and Eve were 
 at libeity to learn ; whilst what the taste 
 could have taught was distinctly reveal- 
 ed ; and thus the single prohibition did 
 not so much withhold them from the ac- 
 quisition of knowledge, as from the ex- 
 perience of disaster. 
 
 But now, was Eve singular in the 
 misrepresenting the prohibition of God 1 
 was she not rather doing what has been 
 done ever since, what is done every day 
 by those who would excuse themselves 
 from the duties and obligations of reli- 
 gion 1 To hear men of the world talk 
 about religion, you might imagine that 
 God's law forbade all enjoyment what- 
 soever of the pleasures and satisfactions 
 of life, that it prescribed nothing but 
 gloom and austei'ity, and required from 
 those who would save the soul, that they 
 should forego every gratification which 
 their nature solicits. They will talk to 
 you of piety, as if it were necessarily of 
 a most morose and melancholy tenor, as 
 if it debarred men from all participation 
 in visible good, requiring them to move 
 amid what is bright, and beautiful, and 
 attractive in creation, but only that they 
 might mortify the propensities which 
 find therein their counterpart objects. 
 Because God has distinctly forbidden our 
 finding our chief good in earthly things, 
 because He has limited us to a moderate 
 or temperate use of these things, there- 
 fore will men perversely misrepresent 
 his enactments, and pretend that He 
 would shut them up in the most dismal 
 seclusion, as though He had given them 
 appetites which were not to be gratified, 
 desires which were only to be resisted, 
 and yet, all the while, had surrounded 
 them with what those appetites crave, 
 and those desires solicit. Whereas, 
 there is nothing prohibited by the Di- 
 vine law but just .that indulgence of our 
 appetites and desires, which, because 
 excessive and irregular, would, from our 
 very constitution, be visited with pre- 
 sent disappointment and remorse, and, 
 from the necessary character of a retri- 
 butive government, with future ven- 
 geance and death. 
 
 We suppose it capable of a most 
 
52 
 
 THE MISREPRESENTATIONS OF EVE. 
 
 thorough demonstration, that the man 
 of religion, the man who allows himself 
 in no indulgence which religion forbids, 
 whose appetites are never his masters, 
 but who is " temperate in all things," 
 has more actual enjoyment, even of what 
 earth can afford, than the reckless slave 
 of sense, who, in the expressive lan- 
 guage of Scripture, would " work all 
 uncleanness with greediness. " And 
 there never, we believe, was a falser 
 charge than that which would fasten 
 upon religion such a severe code of 
 precepts, and such a stern series of 
 sacrifices, as must make its disciples do 
 perpetual violence to their feelings, and 
 live within reach of pleasures in which 
 they must deny themselves all share : 
 whilst they who renounce religion are di- 
 viding amongst themselves whatever 
 good the present life can give. Religion 
 forbids all that is irregular or excessive in 
 the use of earthly things ; but it forbids 
 nothing more ; and whilst we are con- 
 stituted as we are, whilst there is no 
 slavery so oppressive as the being slaves 
 to our own lusts, whilst there are the ir- 
 repressible workings within us of a 
 great moral principle, causing uneasi- 
 ness, and even anguish, to follow on 
 criminal indulgence — nay, it is no boast of 
 idle declamation, it is the statement of 
 a simple and sober calculation, that the 
 religious man, partaking only so far as 
 religion permits, enjoys, in a much high- 
 er degree than the thorough-paced world 
 ling, the very objects for which that 
 worldling throws away his soul. 
 
 Thus God is just doing with us as He 
 did with our first parents in regard of 
 the tree of knowledge. He did not al- 
 together debar them from that tree ; He 
 only debarred them from eating of that 
 tree ; knowing that they had but to eat 
 of it, and they would find it to be death. 
 And He does not debar us from the en- 
 joyment of earthly things : He debars 
 us only from that unbridled and unlaw- 
 ful indulgence which tends directly to 
 the destruction of both body and soul. 
 
 But it is with us as it was with Eve. 
 As a sort of excuse for breakinsr God's 
 commandments, we represent those 
 commandments as forbidding the touch- 
 ing, when they forbid only the tasting. 
 We try to make out religion as all gloom 
 and austerity ; and ask, whether it be 
 not something too much to expect, that, 
 with such a nature as God has given us, 
 
 and placed in such a world as that as- 
 signed for our dwelling, the nature soli- 
 citing the very objects which are pre- 
 sented by the world, we should hold 
 ourselves altogether aloof from present 
 gratifications, and live as though we had 
 no senses, no appetites, no desires. Ah, 
 my brethren, the younger more espe- 
 cially, and such as are yet looking up- 
 on religion with distaste and dislike, be 
 candid, and tell us whether it be not the 
 apprehension of having to give up all 
 that is pleasant and agreeable, and to 
 settle into a life of moroseness and me- 
 lancholy, which makes you turn with 
 aversion from the proffers and promises 
 of the Gospel ] 
 
 But is it in pure ignorance that you 
 thus misrepresent religion? is it through 
 an actual misunderstanding as to what 
 God permits, and what He prohibits ] 
 Nay, not exactly so ; we must probe 
 you a little deeper. Ye are thoroughly 
 aware, even though you may strive to 
 hide the knowledge from yourselves as 
 well as from others, that God hath said, 
 " Of every tree of the garden ye may 
 freely eat. " He hath not, ay, and ye 
 know that He hath not, filled his crea- 
 tion with attractions on purpose to keep 
 his rational creatures at perpetual strife 
 with themselves, merely to exercise 
 them in self-denial, and give them occa- 
 sion of doincj violence to all the feelings 
 of their nature. On the contrary, it is 
 the decision of an Apostle, " Every 
 creature of God is trood, and nothing to 
 be refused, if it be received with thanks- 
 eivinor " It is the abuse, not the use 
 of the creature which God hath forbid- 
 den. His prohibition commences only 
 where indulgence virtually defeats its 
 own end, the ministering to happiness : it 
 allows all the participation which beings, 
 conscious of immortality, can enjoy with- 
 out a blush. And how, knowing this — 
 for ye do know it ; ye know that religion 
 is not meant to turn the earth into a 
 desert; ye know that practically it does 
 not turn the earth into a desert, for that 
 religious persons may have their share 
 in all that is really bright and sweet in 
 life, yea, and relish it the more as the 
 gift of a heavenly Father, and enjoy it 
 the more because enjoying it temperate- 
 ly and subordinately — how is it, that, 
 knowing all this, ye contrive to justify 
 yourselves in continued disregard of the 
 demands and duties of religion 1 Ah, 
 
THE MISREPilESENTATIONS OF EVE. 
 
 we will not pretend to follow yon into 
 every subterfuge, nor to dissect every 
 falsehood. But we look at the case of 
 our first mother: we see how, when she 
 was inclining to disobedience, she 
 wrought herself up into opposition to 
 the commadnment by perversely magni- 
 fying its strictness. And we can believe 
 that you do much the same. You take 
 pains to hide from yourselves the real 
 facts .of the case. You leave out a 
 word, when you speak of God's permis- 
 sions ; you put in words, when you 
 speak of his prohibitions. When God 
 hath said, "Ye shall not eat of it, " and 
 ye are secretly persuaded that herein 
 He hath only consulted for your good, 
 ye repeat, as your version of the com- 
 mandment, till perhaps you almost be- 
 lieve it to be true, " Ye shall not eat of 
 it, neither shall ye touch it." 
 
 But there was a yet worse symptom 
 in Eve, one still more indicative of the 
 fatal disease which was making way in- 
 to her veins. It was bad enough, whe- 
 ther to depreciate God's permission, or 
 to exaggerate his prohibition ; but it 
 was worse to soften away his threaten- 
 ings. This showed the workings of un- 
 belief; and there could, indeed, have 
 been but a step between our common 
 mother and ruin, when she had brought 
 herself to look doubtingly on the word 
 of the Lord. And this symptom is even 
 more strongly marked than those which 
 we have already examined. The de- 
 claration of God had been, " Thou shall 
 not eat of it ; for in the day that thou 
 eatest thereof, thou shalt surely die. " 
 But what is Eve's version of this strong 
 and unqualified declaration 1 " Ye shall 
 not eat of it, lest ye die. " '• Lest ye 
 die, " this is what she substitutes for 
 " in the day that thou eatest thereof, 
 thou shalt surely die." " Lest ye die, " 
 an expression which implies a sort of 
 chance, a contingency, a bare possibility, 
 what might happen, or might not hap- 
 pen, what might happen soon, or might 
 not happen for years — it is thus she puts 
 a denunciation as express, as explicit, 
 as language can furnish, " in the day 
 that thou eatest thereof, thou shalt sure- 
 ly die." Alas now for Eve! Harbor- 
 ing a thought that God would not carry 
 his threatening into execution — and this 
 she must have harbored, ere she could 
 have softened these threatenings into 
 " lest ye die " — no marvel if she gave a 
 
 ready ear to the lie of the serpent, " Ye 
 shall not surely die. " She had whis- 
 pered his lie to herself, before it was 
 uttered by Satan : the devil could do 
 little then, and he can do little now, ex- 
 cept as openings arc made for him by 
 those on whom he seeks to work. It 
 was probably the incipient unbelief, 
 manifested by the " lest ye die " of Eve, 
 which suggested, as the best mode oi 
 attack, the "ye shall not surely die " of 
 Satan. The devil may well hope to be 
 believed, so soon as he sees symptoms 
 of God's being disbelieved. 
 
 And if we could charge upon num- 
 bers, in the present day, the imitating 
 Eve in the disparaging God's permis- 
 sions, and the exaggerating his prohibi- 
 tions, can we have any difficulty in con- 
 tinuing the parallel, now that the thing 
 done is the making light of his threaten- 
 ings 1 Why, what fills hell like the se- 
 cretly cherished thought, that perhaps, 
 after all, there may be no hell to fill 1 
 What is a readier, or more frequent, 
 engine for the destruction of the soul, 
 than a false idea of the compassion of 
 God as sure to interfere, either to short- 
 en the duration, or to mitigate the in- 
 tenseness, of future punishment, if not 
 altogether to prevent its infliction 1 God 
 hath said, " The soul that sinrieth, it 
 shall die. " But when men come to 
 gdve their version of so stern and em- 
 phatic a declaration, they put it virtual- 
 ly into some such shape as this, " The 
 soul should not sin, lest it die. " Christ 
 hath said, " He that bclieveth, and is 
 baptized, shall be saved ; but he that 
 bclieveth not shall be damned; " men, 
 however, practically throw this sweep- 
 ing and startling affirmation into a much 
 smoother formula, " Believe upon Christ, 
 lest ye die." 
 
 " Lest ye die " — is this then all ? is 
 there any doubt 1 is it a contingency ? 
 is it a may be 1 " Lest ye die," when 
 God hath said, " Ye shall surely 
 die." " Lest ye die," when God hath 
 said, " The wicked shall be turned 
 into hell, and all the people that for- 
 get God." " Lest ye die," when God 
 hath said, " Be not deceived : neither 
 fornicators, nor idolators, nor adulter- 
 ers, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor 
 revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit 
 the kingdom of God." Nay. ye may 
 give the paragraph a smoother turn, 
 but ye cannot give the punishment a 
 
54 
 
 THE MISREPRESEXTATIOXS OF EVE. 
 
 shorter term. Ye may soften away the 
 expressions, ye can neither abbreviate 
 nor mitigate the vengeance. " If we 
 believe not," saith St. Paul, " yet He 
 abideth faithful, He cannot deny Him- 
 self." It may make punishment all the 
 more tremendous, that there hath been 
 the secret indulgence of a hope that 
 God would never execute his threaten- 
 ings to the letter ; but, assuredly, such 
 a hope, as being itself but the offspring 
 of unbelief, can never produce change, 
 in the declared purpose of the moral 
 Governor of the universe. 
 
 And yet, such is the constancy in hu- 
 man perverseness, the feeling which 
 wrought in Eve, before she eat the fatal 
 
 ... 
 
 fruit, is just that which is most power- 
 fully at work amongst her descendants. 
 There is not perhaps one of you, who, 
 if he be still living in unrepented sin, is 
 not secretly disposed to the regarding 
 God as too gracious to visit iniquity 
 with everlasting destruction, to the re- 
 solving into the exasperations of the 
 priesthood, or, at all events, into denun- 
 ciations whose ends will be answered 
 by their delivery without their execu- 
 tion, the tremendous announcements of 
 a worm that dieth not, and of a fire that 
 is not quenched. 
 
 It is not, that, if ye were pushed into 
 an argument, or urged to a confession, 
 ye would, in so many words, assert an 
 expectation of such a difference between 
 punishment as threatened, and punish- 
 ment as put in force, as might make it 
 comparatively safe for you to set at 
 nought God's law. We do not suppose 
 that Eve would have done this : she 
 would not, even to herself, have ac- 
 knowledged so much as this. But it is, 
 that ye have a smooth way of putting 
 the threatenings of the law; you per- 
 
 haps think that there is a great deal of 
 metaphor in the Bible, much which was 
 never meant to be literally understood, 
 much which was only for local or tem- 
 porary application ; and so, at last, 
 " lest ye die," an expression which just 
 implies some measure of risk, comes to 
 pass with you (so far as you think on 
 such matters at all) as a very fair expo- 
 sition of " Ye shall surely die, " an ex- 
 pression denoting the most absolute cer- 
 tainty. 
 
 But, now, be warned by the instance 
 of Eve. She allowed herself to give a 
 smooth turn to the threatening of God. 
 She invented, and never was invention 
 so pregnant with disaster to the world, 
 the doubtful suggestion, " Lest ye die," 
 as a substitute for the awful affirmation, 
 " Ye shall surely die." But, acting on 
 the supposition that " Lest ye die," 
 might fairly pass as the meaning of " Ye 
 shall surely die," she " brought death 
 into the world, and all our woe." 
 
 In her case, indeed, tremendous 
 though the consequences were, there 
 was a remedy : our first parents fell, 
 but were arrested by a Mediator in their 
 fatal descent. But in your case — if the 
 soul be staked on the chance, that God 
 threatens more than He will execute, 
 and if ye find, as find ye must, that "ye 
 shall surely die " meant what it said — 
 no exaggeration, no metaphor — alas ! 
 there will then be no remedy for you : 
 the hour will be passed, the day will be 
 gone : though now a Mediator waits to 
 make true to all penitents the bold false- 
 hood of Satan, "Ye shall not surely 
 die," there shall be no deliverance here- 
 after for such as have been presumptu- 
 ous enough to sin, in the hope, or with 
 the thought, that God will not be stern 
 enough to strike. 
 
SEEKING, AFTER FINDING. 
 
 55 
 
 SERMON VII. 
 
 SEEKING AFTER FINDING. 
 
 They shall ask the way to Zion, with their faces thitherward." — Jeremiah 1. 5. 
 
 The chapter from which these words 
 are taken is filled with predictions of 
 the overthrow of Babylon, and of the 
 deliverance of the Jews from their 
 haughty oppressors. There can be no 
 doubt that these predictions had at least 
 a primary reference to the demolition of 
 the Chaldean Empire by Cyrus, and to 
 the consequent emancipation of the cap- 
 tive citizens of Jerusalem. But, as is 
 generally if not always the case with 
 prophecies of this class, there would ap- 
 pear to be a secondary reference to the 
 destruction of the mystic Babylon, close- 
 ly associated as it will be with the re- 
 storation of the scattered tribes of Israel, 
 and with the triumphant estate of the 
 Christian Church. 
 
 It would seem that from the first the 
 enemies of God and his people which 
 one age has produced, have served as 
 types of those who will arise in the lat- 
 ter days of the world ; and that the 
 judgments by which they have been 
 overtaken, have been so constructed as 
 to figure the final vengeance on Anti- 
 christ and his followers. Hence it is 
 that so many prophecies appear to re- 
 quire as well as to admit a double ful- 
 filment ; they could hardly delineate the 
 type and not delineate also the antitype ; 
 whilst we may believe that the Spirit, 
 which moved the holy men of old, de- 
 signed that what it inspired should serve 
 for the instruction of remote a^es as 
 well as of near. 
 
 That the predictions in the chapter 
 before us referred to what is yet future, 
 as well as to what has long ago passed, 
 will appear from a careful attention to 
 the terms in which they are couched. 
 In the verse immediately preceding our 
 
 text, you find this statement : " In those 
 days, and in that time, saith the Lord, 
 the children of Israel shall come, they 
 and the children of Judah together, go- 
 ing and weeping : they shall go, and 
 seek the Lord their God." These 
 words describe a oreat national contri- 
 
 O 
 
 tion. The scattered tribes have been 
 brought to a deep sense of their rebel- 
 lion against the God of their fathers, and 
 are inclined accordingly to return to his 
 service. But it would hardly appear 
 that there was any such general repent- 
 ance preparatory to the return of the 
 Jews from Babylon, though we have 
 decisive testimony, from various parts of 
 Scripture, that there will be antecedent- 
 ly to the final restoration of the Israel- 
 ites to Canaan. And besides this, you 
 will not fail to observe that the children 
 of Israel are here combined with the 
 children of Judah ; whereas only the lat- 
 ter were captives in Babylon, and only 
 the latter were emancipated by Cyrus. 
 Whenever, as in tihs instance, prophecy 
 speaks of any gathering together of the 
 twelve tribes, of which the kingdom of 
 Israel had ten, that of Judah only two, 
 we seem obliged to understand it as re- 
 lating to the future ; there having as 
 yet been no event which can be regard- 
 ed as the predicted restoration of the 
 ten tribes whom Shalmaneser removed. 
 On this and other accounts which it is 
 not important to specify, we conclude 
 that in its secondary, if not in its prima- 
 ry, application, our text is connected with 
 that august event, the theme of so many 
 prophecies, the centre of so many hopes, 
 the reinstatement in Canaan of the chil- 
 dren of Israel. And it may possibly 
 indicate from what various and remote 
 
SEEKING, AFTER FINDING. 
 
 56 
 
 districts of the earth shall the exiles be 
 gathered, that there is to be that igno- 
 rance of the road to Jerusalem which the 
 words before as express. We know 
 that the whole globe is strewed with 
 the Jews, so that von can scarcely find 
 the country where this people, though 
 distinct from every other, has not made 
 itself a home. But the dwelling- place 
 of the ten tribes is still an unsolved 
 problem : neither the navigator in his 
 voyagings round the world, nor the tra- 
 veller in his searchings over continents, 
 has yet lighted on the mysterious seclu- 
 sion where rest the descendants of those 
 who, for their sins, were cast out from 
 Samaria. It may well then be, that when, 
 moved by one impulse from above, the 
 thousands of the chosen seed, whether in 
 the east, or west, or north, or south, shall 
 resolve on seeking the land of their 
 fathers, it will be almost like the quest 
 of some unknown region, so indistinct 
 will be the memory, and so darkened 
 Che tradition, of the long-lost inheritance. 
 With numbers there may be nothing be- 
 yond a vague knowledge of the direc- 
 tion in which Palestine must lie, so that 
 they will be able to turn their faces 
 thitherward, but not to determine by 
 what, road to proceed. And this is pre- 
 cisely what is represented in our text. 
 The children of Israel and the children 
 of J udah, dissolved in tears on account 
 of their now felt ingratitude and wick- 
 edness, have turned themselves towards 
 Jerusalem, but arc still forced to inquire 
 the way. One seems to behold a band 
 of the exiles weeping and nevertheless 
 exulting, penetrated with sorrow for 
 sins, and yet animated with the persua- 
 sion that the Lord was about to make 
 bare his arm and gather home his banish- 
 ed ones. They press along the desert, 
 they crowd to the shore ; and of every 
 One whom they meet they demand, in a 
 voice of eagerness and anxiety, Where, 
 where is our home, the beautiful land 
 which God gave to our fathers, Abra- 
 ham, Isaac, and Jacob '( 
 
 But you will readily judge that it can- 
 not be on this, the literal sense or ful- 
 filment of the text, that we design to 
 speak at any length. You are always 
 prepared for our regarding the Jews as a 
 typigal people, and finding in the events 
 of their history emblems of what occurs 
 to the Christian Church. We shall 
 therefore at once detach the text from 
 
 its connexion with the Jew r s, whether in 
 their past deliverance from Babylon, or 
 their yet future restoration to Canaan, 
 and consider it as descriptive of what 
 may be found amongst Christians, who 
 have to quit a moral bondage, and find 
 their way to a spiritual Zion. 
 
 The singularity of the passage, when 
 thus interpreted or applied, lies in the 
 face of the inquirer being towards Zi- 
 on, whilst he is yet forced to ask what 
 road he ought to take. " They shall ask 
 the w r ay to Zion, with their laces thither- 
 ward." They are in the right road, or 
 at least are advancing in the right direc- 
 tion ; but, nevertheless, whether through 
 ignorance, or through fear of even the 
 possibility of mistake, they continually 
 make inquiries as to the path to be fid- 
 lowed. We think that this circum- 
 stance, if considered as to be exempli- 
 fied in our own spiritual history, will fur- 
 nish abundant material for interesting 
 and profitable discourse. It is a cir- 
 cumstance which indicates such honesty 
 of purpose in the inquirer, such vigi- 
 lance, such circumspection, such anxiety 
 to be right, and such dread of being 
 wrong, as should distinguish every 
 Christian, though too often we look for 
 them in vain. And, at the same time, 
 we evidently learn that persons are not 
 always fair judges of their spiritual con- 
 dition ; they may be asking the way like 
 those who are in ignorance and darkness, 
 and all the while their faces may be to- 
 wards Zion. Let it be our endeavor to 
 compass different classes within our pre- 
 sent discourse ; considering in the first 
 place, the case of those who, though 
 going right, suppose themselves going 
 wrong; and, in the second place, that 
 of those who believe themselves right, 
 but yet desire further assurance ; for of 
 both classes it may equally be said, 
 " They ask the way to Zion, with their 
 faces thitherward." 
 
 Now it is the object of such parables 
 as that of the tares and the wheat, or 
 that of the great net let down into the 
 sea, and which gathered of all kinds, 
 bad as well as good, to teach us that. 
 there is to be a mixture in the visible 
 Church, and that it is not men's busi- 
 ness to attempt a separation. We are 
 all too much disposed to exercise a 
 spirit of judgment, to pronounce opin- 
 ions on the condition of our fellow-men, 
 whether the living or the dead, just as 
 
SEEKING, AFTER FINDING. 
 
 57 
 
 though we had access to God's book, 
 and could infallibly read its registered 
 decisions: But there is every tiling in 
 the Bible to warn us against this spirit 
 of judgment, and to urge us, on the 
 contrary, to a spirit of charity ; our ina- 
 bility to read the heart, which is the pre- 
 rogative of God alone, being given as a 
 sufficient reason why we should refrain 
 from passing verdicts ; and our duty as 
 members of the same mystic body, be- 
 ing set forth as that of hoping all things, 
 bearing one another's burdens, rather 
 than scrutiuizino; one another's faults. 
 
 And a very comforting remembrance 
 it is, that we are not to stand or fall by 
 human decision, that our portion for 
 eternity is not to be settled by what men 
 think of us here ; for so furious is the 
 spirit of religious party, and so deter- 
 mined are numbers on making their own 
 favorite dogma the alone passport to 
 heaven, that many, of the most lowly fol- 
 lowers of Christ would be given over to 
 perdition, and many of the most arro- 
 gant boasters chartered for everlasting 
 life, were the verdicts of the Christian 
 world to be final, and no appeal to lie 
 to a higher tribunal. We always think 
 that there is something very touching in 
 those words of the Redeemer, " My 
 sheep hear my voice, and I know them." 
 It is as much as to say, the world may 
 not know them; in the judgment of 
 men, many pass for my sheep who are 
 not, and many who are, may be excluded 
 from my flock; but I, I who cannot be 
 deceived, I know my sheep, and will in- 
 fallibly distinguish them at last from the 
 goats. 
 
 But not only are men likely to deliver 
 a false judgment upon others, and there- 
 fore bound to confine their chief scru- 
 tiny to themselves, it is further very 
 possible that they may form a wrong 
 opinion of their own spiritual state, not 
 only, as you all know, in concluding 
 themselves safe whilst in danger, but, as 
 is perhaps less suspected, in concluding 
 themselves in danger whilst safe. In 
 his more private ministrations amongst 
 his people, a clergyman will not unfre- 
 quently find the case of a depressed and 
 disconsolate individual, who obtains none 
 of the comforts, though he is all alive to 
 the duties, of religion. It gives him no 
 surprise that there should be such cases ; 
 for he knows that they are expressly 
 provided for in Scripture, — as, for ex- 
 
 ample, in that passage of the prophet 
 Isaiah, " Who is among you that fear- 
 eth the Lord, that obeyeth the voice of 
 his servant, that walketh in darkness, 
 and hath no light 1 let him trust in the 
 name of the Lord, and stay upon his 
 God." Here the case is evidently sup- 
 posed of religion existing in its genuine- 
 ness, though in none of its comforts : the 
 man fears the Lord, and obeys the voice 
 of his servant; but, all the while, is sur- 
 rounded by impenetrable darkness, even 
 darkness which may be felt. And the 
 direction to such a man, a direction to 
 stay himself upon his God, is one which 
 clearly assumes the reality of his piety, 
 and as clearly asserts that he is not in 
 danger, because not in light. 
 
 But whilst the minister is quite pre- 
 pared for these cases, and quite aware 
 that the spiritual gloom is no index of 
 the spiritual state, he finds them singu- 
 larly difficult and perplexing; and that, 
 too, because they are commonly the 
 cases of parties suffering from bodily 
 disease, disease perhaps of the nerves, 
 and whom that very circumstance inca- 
 pacitates for judging with accuracy their 
 spiritual state. If, through God's bless- 
 ing on the prescriptions of the physician, 
 a more wholesome tone be given to 
 the nervous system, brighter views will 
 quickly be reached of the condition of 
 the soul : on the other hand, if the sick- 
 ness increase, the moral darkness will 
 become thicker and thicker : and whilst 
 the minister is thoroughly assured that 
 all these alternations are but proofs bow 
 the body can act upon the mind, and 
 therefore noways affect the spiritual es- 
 tate, the patient will take them as so 
 many evidences of advance or decline in 
 
 gem me religion. 
 
 We know nothing to be done, in these 
 and the like cases, but the endeavoring 
 to shew men how utterly distinct are the 
 reality of religion and its comforts ; and 
 how independent is that which is to save 
 them on the frames and feelings of which 
 they may be conscious. They are down- 
 cast because faith seems weak, or elated 
 because it seems strong ; whereas it is 
 not faith which is to save them, but 
 Christ ; and whilst faith,- whether in it- 
 self or its evidences, may change from 
 day to day, Christ changes not, but is 
 " the same yesterday, to-day, and for- 
 ever." And we always think it safe to 
 tell those who are spiritually depressed, 
 8 
 
58 
 
 SEEKING, AFTER FINDING. 
 
 that their very depression is no mean 
 argument of* their safety ; for so unnatu- 
 ral is it to man to feel anxious for his 
 soul, that, wheresoever there is the 
 anxiety, we recognize a higher agency, 
 even a Divine, as having wrought to ex- 
 cite the solicitude. Tt certainly follows, 
 that the man who is depressed as to his 
 state before God, must be anxious as to 
 that state ; and we know not how, as a 
 corrupt and fallen creature, he was to 
 have become thus anxious, had not God's 
 Spirit acted on his conscience, and com- 
 menced in him a work of moral renova- 
 tion. So that there ought to be comfort 
 even in the very wretchedness : you 
 would not have been thus disquieted had 
 you been left to yourselves ; and that 
 you have not been left to yourselves 
 should prove to you that God is not wil- 
 ling that you should perish, nay, that 
 He has already undertaken the brinorincr 
 you to Himself. 
 
 And over and above these cases of 
 depression, in which one cause or an- 
 other weaves darkness round a man, so 
 that, whilst his face is towards Zion, he 
 cannot perceive that he is on the road 
 to the heavenly city, we nothing doubt 
 that there are many instances of parties, 
 who have betmn in true religion, and 
 nevertheless think that the first step has 
 not been taken. It is not always, nay, 
 it is not, we believe, often, that conver- 
 sion is suddenly effected, nor through 
 some special instrumentality which fixes, 
 as it were, the date of the change. In 
 the majority of cases, the change, we 
 are inclined to believe, is gradual, im- 
 perceptibly effected, so that, although 
 the man becomes at length conscious of 
 a great moral alteration, he cannot tell 
 you when it commenced, nor by what 
 steps it went on. There is no one thing 
 more distinguishable from another, than 
 is the converted state from the uncon- 
 verted; but the transition from the one 
 to the other may be accomplished by 
 such slow degrees, that the individual, 
 who is its subject, shall not know with 
 precision when or where the first move- 
 ment took place. 
 
 And we rejoice in the assurance that 
 many, who would not venture to think 
 themselves on the way to Zion, are ac- 
 tually walking in the direction of that 
 city. They who have a sincere wish to 
 be enabled to forsake sin, and who are 
 endeavoring accordingly to break away 
 
 from evil habits ; they who tremble at 
 God's word, though as yet they have not 
 found a shelter from its threatenings ; 
 they who are so moved by a sense of 
 danger that they earnestly inquire, 
 "What must we do to be saved]" 
 though they have not yet heard the an- 
 swer in the depths of the heart — on all 
 these the minister of the Gospel looks 
 with great hopefulness : they may not 
 themselves be aware of their having ac- 
 tually entered the heavenward path ; but 
 he considers their anxiety, their fear, 
 their solicitude, as so many evidences 
 of their having begun in religion, and he 
 anticipates, with indescribable pleasure, 
 their being " followers of them who 
 through faith and patience inherit the 
 promises." Regarding conversion as a 
 gradual work, a work in which " one 
 soweth and another reapeth," we do not 
 look on those, who are evidently con- 
 firmed believers, as the only travellers 
 towards the celestial city : we rejoice 
 in thinking that there are numbers, in 
 whom the moral change is not vet dis- 
 tinctly marked, but who are neverthe- 
 less in the act of passing the strait gate. 
 
 Yea, with every wish to avoid giving 
 encouragement where there is yet need- 
 ed warning', we do feel authorized in 
 taking fears for the soul, and desires for 
 its safety, as evidences of a man's being 
 in the pathway of life. We might al- 
 most say, that, in religion, anxiety to be- 
 gin is itself a becinuincr '• the seeking 
 the road is the being in the road : and 
 though the inquirers themselves may 
 not venture to think that they have yet 
 done more than .inquire, oh, we can re- 
 gard them as having already virtually 
 found that of which they are in quest: 
 they may only consider themselves as 
 asking the way to Zion ; but we can 
 feel that they are of those who ask the 
 way to Zion "with their faces thither- 
 ward." 
 
 But let us pass on to the case of men, 
 in regard of whom there can be no doubt 
 that they have made a beginning, and 
 let us see what our text may indicate as 
 to these more advanced characters. We 
 may justly suppose that the parties, to 
 whom the prophecy originally applied, 
 had set out on the journey from Babylon 
 to Zion : they had commenced : but, 
 either through finding themselves in 
 places where different roads met, or 
 through desire to be more and more as- 
 
SEEKING, AFTER FINDING. 
 
 59 
 
 sured of being' right, they still ask the 
 way to the land of their fathers. And 
 we hardly know where to begin, in 
 pointing out to you how illustrative this 
 should be of the conduct of the Chris- 
 tian, as he journeys towards the hea- 
 venly inheritance. There are many 
 things indicated by this asking the way 
 to Ziun, on which it would be well that 
 your attention should be turned. 
 
 Let it first be observed, that a Chris- 
 tian should never be too confident ; that 
 he should never take for granted, as a 
 point on which there could not be doubt, 
 that he is indeed " a new creature," and 
 on the high road to the kingdom. "Ex- 
 amine yourselves, whether ye be in the 
 faith," is a precept which cannot be in- 
 appropriate at any stage of the Christian 
 life ; tor where a mistake is so possible, 
 and where the consequences of a mis- 
 take are so disastrous, it is the part of 
 common prudence to be frequently con- 
 sidering whether or not we have been 
 deceiving ourselves, having a name to 
 live, whilst yet dead in God's sight. We 
 have no wish, indeed, to debar you from 
 the enjoyment of the privileges of the 
 Gospel : we are only anxious that your 
 title to these privileges should be clear ; 
 and this, we are persuaded, it cannot 
 be, except through a frequent process 
 of close self-examination. For it is not 
 a general sense of your election unto 
 life which should satisfy you of your 
 safety. This may be, and often is, no- 
 thing more than a suggestion of Satan 
 to blind you to your danger. Do you 
 find an increasing delight in secret pray- 
 er 'I does sin seem to you more and more 
 odious ? are you more and more pene- 
 trated by the exceeding great love of 
 God in giving his Son to die for your 
 sakes ? is holiness becoming your hap- 
 piness, duty your privilege, and heaven 
 the very home of your affections I These, 
 and the like, questions are those which 
 you should be frequently proposing to 
 yourselves. On the answer to these, an 
 answer given as in the sight of a heart- 
 searching God, should lestyour answer 
 to the most momentous of all questions, 
 "Are we on the way to Zion ] " 
 
 And if the answer to this last question 
 can only be come at through the answer 
 to a series of inquiries, each of which 
 may be said to need, from its very na- 
 ture, the being daily proposed, it neces- 
 sarily follows, that you ought to be imi- 
 
 tating the children of Judah and Israel, 
 asking as to the road to Zion, however 
 you may hope that your faces are al- 
 ready thitherward. Can this be the way 
 to Zion in which I am ? Ask the dead, 
 who have reached that heavenly city : 
 with one voice they will tell you, that, 
 if it be the right way, it is a way of self- 
 denial, leading you through mortified 
 lusts, and over subjugated affections ; and 
 then judge ye whether or not it be such 
 a way in which you are found. Ask the 
 living, of whom you have best cause to 
 believe that they are heirs of the king- 
 dom : they will assure you that the way 
 is one of faith and obedience, every step 
 of which is an advance in the knowledge 
 of your own depraved hearts, and in the 
 sense of the worth and sufficiency of 
 Christ ; and then judge ye whether or 
 not this can be the w r ay in which you are 
 walking. Ask the Bible, on whose pa- 
 ges the Holy Spirit hath mapped out 
 the path, and it will tell you that the 
 way is a narrow way, which will not 
 admit of your encumbering yourselves 
 with perishable things, but which can 
 be traversed only by those who lay aside 
 every weight ; and then judge ye whe- 
 ther ye have obtained the description of 
 a path which ye yourselves are pursu- 
 ing. And ask ye, yet further, of God. 
 This seems to have been the practice of 
 the Psalmist ; for you may remember 
 his words, " Search me, O God, and 
 know my heart ; try me, and know my 
 thoughts ; and see if there be any wick- 
 ed way in me, and lead me in the way 
 everlasting." By diligent and fervent 
 prayer, make inquiry of God as to the 
 road which conducts to the place where 
 He dwells. And the answer, to this in- 
 quiry, an answer, which, if there be sin- 
 cerity in the inquirer, shall certainly not 
 be withheld, will expose to you the de- 
 ceitfulness of all hope of reaching Zion, 
 which is not founded on the appropria- 
 tion of the merits of the Redeemer, the 
 reality of that appropriation being proved 
 by the produced fruits of righteousness; 
 and then determine whether such an- 
 swer ought to leave you assured that 
 you are not self-deceived, when conclud- 
 ing yourselves in the heavenward path. 
 But of whomsoever the question be 
 asked, we wish you clearly to understand 
 that the question itself, the question as 
 to the way to Zion, is not a question to 
 be put by none but beginners in religion, 
 
60 
 
 8EEKING, AFTER FINDING. 
 
 who have yet to learn the veiy elements 
 of Christianity, and to take the first step 
 in separation from the world. It is a 
 question for the most advanced Chris- 
 tian amongst you, if not because he may 
 be ignorant of the way and therefore 
 need direction, yet because he requires 
 to be reminded of the way, that he may 
 compare his own course with the chart, 
 and see whether he have not wandered, 
 turning aside either to the right hand or 
 the left. For if it may be, as we have 
 said that it is, by almost imperceptible 
 steps that a man passes from the side 
 of the world to that of God, he may also 
 decline, by almost imperceptible steps, 
 towards that which he hath left — the 
 swerving being at each point so slight ; 
 as scarce to be observed, although a 
 wide angle may at length result from 
 successive inconsiderable flexions. And 
 if indeed it be possible, that a man, who 
 has entered on the right road, may, 
 through want of constant self-examina- 
 tion, bend from that road, and yet hardly 
 suspect the departure, how important 
 that Christians should imitate the Jews, 
 who, with their faces towards Zion, were 
 still inquiring the road. 
 
 It is not doubt, but caution, which we 
 would teach you ; not the being always 
 beginning, but the being always diligent 
 to " make your calling and election 
 sure." We do not wish you to be al- 
 ways uncertain as to whether or not your 
 faces are turned towards Zion ; but we 
 wish you to understand that their being 
 so turned is a reason in favor of, not a 
 reason against, your frequently inquiring 
 the heavenly path. It is not sufficient 
 that they be turned ; the great matter 
 is, that they be kept turned; and whilst 
 such is your nature, that, without con- 
 stant vigilance, the direction may be 
 gradually changed, and yet appear to 
 you the same — even as the eyes of a 
 well-drawn portrait follow you as you 
 move, and so might persuade you that 
 you had not moved at all — it is evidently 
 bound on you, by your regard for your 
 safety, that you be always ascertaining 
 the landmarks, in place of judging by 
 your apparent position. Is my life the 
 life of a believer in Christ] is faith pro- 
 ducing piety, humility, charity, patience ? 
 These are the very milestones, the pil- 
 lars, the crosses, on the road. If I 
 search not for these, I must remain with- 
 out sufficient evidence of my being on 
 
 the road ; and, therefore, is an inquiry 
 as to the way, in order to the determin- 
 ing whether it be the way in which I 
 walk, the only inquiry by which, at any 
 stage, I can ascertain my safety. In 
 short, 1 am not to conclude that I must 
 be in the right way, because my face, 
 as I think, is Zionwards : I am to con- 
 clude that my face is Zionwards, by ex- 
 amining my path, comparing it with 
 that which Scripture delineates as con- 
 ducting to heaven, and proving that the 
 two are one and the same. 
 
 It may not have been from actual ig- 
 norance, that they, who had been de- 
 livered from Babylon, asked, with so 
 much urgency, the road to Jerusalem. 
 They were on the road, and, though 
 half blinded with the tears of contrition, 
 may have felt that they could scarcely 
 go wrong. But they would make as- 
 surance doubly sure. It was a pleasure 
 to them to ask the name of every valley 
 which they crossed, and of every hill 
 which they ascended, and to receive a 
 reply which showed them that their 
 course was indeed towards Zion. And 
 occasionally they stood where different 
 roads met — one perhaps apparently 
 smooth, and leading through rich smi- 
 lin j scenes ; and the other rugged, and 
 going off towards a dreary waste — 
 what shall they do but pause till they 
 can clearly determine which road leads 
 to Zion? not wishing to follow the at- 
 tractive path, if it do not ; eager to at- 
 tempt the repulsive, if it do. 
 
 And in all this, we again and asrain 
 tell you, they were examples to the 
 Christian in his journey to the spiritual 
 Canaan. He can never be too sure that 
 he is right. He may have no reason to 
 suspect that he is wrong; but he is 
 wrong, if, on that account alone, he con- 
 clude himself right. Let him be always 
 questioning, questioning himself, ques- 
 tioning others, inquiring of the Bible, 
 inquiring of God. What is this moun- 
 tain before me 1 is it on the map 1 what 
 is this valley which I have to cross, this 
 stream which I have to ford 1 are they 
 what 1 was to meet with, or do thev show 
 that I have wandered '! And here the 
 road divides — which turn am I to take 1 
 what is to decide me in this perplexity 1 
 Let. me be firm on one point — that it is 
 the direction of the road, not its quality, 
 by which I will be determined. The 
 road which leads to heaven, that is my 
 
SEEKING, AFTER FINDING. 
 
 61 
 
 roa 1, be it, or be it not, strewed with 
 the rocks, and swept by the torrents. 
 Other paths may look more inviting : 
 but I have nothing to do except with 
 their termination : if they conduct not 
 to Zion, I would not venture to follow 
 them even a solitary step, though they 
 might lead me to riches, or honors, or^plea- 
 sures. This it is to imitate the emancipa- 
 ted Jews. Weep with them if you will ; 
 for the sins of everyday furnish but too 
 much matter for godly sorrow. Turn 
 your faces, with them, towards Zion : 
 for assuredly this is not your rest, and 
 ye aVe but strangers and pilgrims be- 
 low. But be always on the watch, lest 
 ye miss the narrow path ; lest, through 
 ignorance, you take the road which looks 
 plainest, or, through indolence, that 
 which seems smoothest, or, through self- 
 indulgence, that which promises most of 
 present advantage ; and thus, let this 
 description be literally applicable to 
 vourselves, " They ask the way to Zion, 
 with their faces thitherward." 
 
 But there is yet. more to be gathered 
 from this description, when considered 
 as that of a believer in Christ. We 
 have hitherto merely affirmed that, in 
 order to guard against mistake, where 
 mistake would be fatal, it must become 
 the Christian to be always inquiring the 
 way to Zion, like one who knows that 
 he may be deceived, even when to all 
 appearance he has long followed the 
 right path. But we will now suppose 
 him certified as to the direction in which 
 he is proceeding, certified that his face 
 is towards Zion, and nevertheless busy- 
 ing himself with inquiries as to the 
 way. And what would this mark 1 
 What should we have to learn from the 
 representation of a Christian as inquir- 
 ing the way to Zion, though assured 
 that he had been long proceeding in 
 that way 1 
 
 My brethren, Christianity is that in 
 which no man can be too advanced to 
 study the alphabet. It is that to whose 
 very elements the greatest proficient 
 should often recur, not indeed as though 
 he were to be always a beginner : 
 but because what he begins with he 
 cannot exhaust; and because what he 
 gathers as he proceeds, only fits him the 
 more for understanding and appreciating 
 that with which he commenced. The 
 simple and fundamental doctrines of 
 our holy religion, — the doctrines of hu- 
 
 man corruption, of the renewing power 
 of God's Spirit, of the incarnation of 
 the Eternal Word, and of the atone- 
 ment effected by a Mediator, — these, 
 which may be said to shew the way to 
 Zion, present continually new material 
 for the contemplation and instruction of 
 the Christian. There is a sense in which 
 there is no getting beyond the very al- 
 phabet of Christianity ; that alphabet 
 will always be beyond us ; any one of 
 its letters being as a mighty hieroglyphic 
 which the prayerful student may par- 
 tially decipher, but the most accom- 
 plished scholar never thoroughly ex- 
 pound. 
 
 And there cannot be a worse symp- 
 tom, whether in an individual or in a 
 consrrefration, than that of distaste for 
 the elementary truths and facts of Chris- 
 tianity. We regard with great anxiety 
 those professing Christians, whose ap- 
 petites must be stimulated by novelties 
 and varieties in religion, and to whom it 
 is not always a feast, always like " good 
 news from a far country," to hear of the 
 exceeding love of God in giving his 
 dear Son as a propitiation for sin. We 
 are not indeed unmindful of what St. 
 Paul says to the Hebrews, whom he 
 exhorts, that, " leaving the principles of 
 the doctrine of Christ," they should go 
 on to perfection ; and we fully believe 
 that a Christian may err through con- 
 fining himself to the elements, in place 
 of striving to comprehend the whole 
 range of truth. Whatsoever God has 
 been pleased to reveal, should be made 
 the subject of study; and we will not 
 desecrate the name of humility by giving 
 it to that temper which would seal up 
 half the Bible, as too obscure to be read 
 with advantage, or too perplexed for the 
 generality of Christians. It is evident- 
 ly, however, only the resting in " the 
 principles of the doctrine of Christ," 
 which is condemned by St. Paul : he 
 would have us go on to perfection ; but 
 but not so as to forget the principles : — 
 who ever soared higher than this Apos- 
 tle 1 and yet who ever lingered more 
 fondly on the very threshold of the sys- 
 tem, beholding the cross with the earn- 
 estness and affection of one who felt 
 it to be the centre of life to a fallen and 
 helpless world '( We are to leave the 
 principles, so as to be on the advance in 
 the search after truth : but we are never 
 so to leave them as though we had done 
 
62 
 
 SEEKING, AFTER FINDING. 
 
 with them, and had no further need to 
 recur to their study. Indeed, in this 
 sense, it is irapossble to leave the prin- 
 ciples ; for the heights and depths of 
 Christian doctrine are but the first ele- 
 ments expanded : the simple truths are 
 the germs of the mysterious : and it is 
 the little cloud which at length spreads, 
 like that seen by the Prophet's servant, 
 into an impenetrable vast, though only 
 that it may refresh and fertilize the earth. 
 
 We may therefore justly again speak 
 to you of the badness of the symptom, 
 when a Christian grows weary of the 
 first truths of Christianity, nay, when 
 he is not frequent in dwelling on those 
 truths, as furnishing instruction which 
 he cannot outstrip, and consolation which 
 he cannot exhaust. Tell me not of a 
 man who understands all mysteries, and 
 who is so engaged with abstruse and lofti- 
 er doctrines, that he may leave to young 
 converts the introductory facts which he 
 has long ago examined, and with which, 
 as placed at the entrance to the heaven- 
 ward path, he can have no concern when 
 some progress has been made. We 
 dare affirm of the path, that it is not so 
 direct that what we leave remains actu- 
 ally behind us, but rather so winding 
 that what we leave seems frequently be- 
 fore us. In advancing, we apparently 
 return to the same point : he who has 
 taken a lofty flight, if it have indeed 
 been through a region of Christian 
 truth, will commonly find himself, at its 
 close, at the foot of the cross. At least, 
 if he return from the flight, and feel, 
 on looking at the cross, as though it 
 were a dull and common-place object, in 
 comparison of what he had beheld, we 
 may be sure that he has been expatia- 
 ting in some region of cold and barren 
 speculation, where there may be religion 
 for the intellect, but none for the heart. 
 
 We give it, therefore, as no bad cri- 
 terion for those who have long made 
 profession of godliness, — have we de- 
 light in the simple truths of the Gospel, 
 or do we find no pleasure but in an ab- 
 struse and argumentative theology, 
 where the understanding is tasked, or 
 the reason appealed to, the imagina- 
 tion dazzled ] What preaching con- 
 tents us? Must we have the logical 
 speaker, who leads us on, by a series 
 of well-contrived steps, to some un- 
 expected conclusion ] or the brilliant, 
 who, by his vivid delineations, can charm 
 
 us into the belief of truths which we 
 had hitherto overlooked ] or is it suffi- 
 cient to engage our attention and make 
 us all alive to the worth of the ordi- 
 nance of preaching, that the minister 
 speaks, simply and warmly, on the ele- 
 ments of Christianity, on truths with 
 which we have long been familiar, which 
 have been taught us from infancv, and 
 which are little more than the inscrip- 
 tions which point the manslayer to the 
 city of refuge 1 It will be thus with 
 those who are pressing " towards the 
 mark for the pi'ize of their high calling 
 in Christ." The giant in Christ, if we 
 may vary the simile, is so truly the babe 
 in Christ, as always to be leaning upon 
 Him for support ; and the sounds which 
 were sweet to him in the first days of 
 spiritual life, will be melodious ever 
 after ; not only because music remem- 
 bered as heard in childhood always steals 
 thrillingly on the ear, as though it were 
 a voice from the tomb, but because the 
 well-known strain breathes to him of 
 all he holds precious, and falls liquidly 
 as a voice from the firmament, inspir- 
 ing the hope which is " full of immor- 
 tality." 
 
 By this, then, amongst other tests, let 
 those who think themselves advanced in 
 Christianity try their spiritual condition. 
 What ear have they for simple truths 
 simply delivered ? In their private 
 studies, what pleasure have they in 
 meditating the first principles of the 
 Gospel % do they find those first princi- 
 ples inexhausted, inexhaustible % or is 
 it always to deeper doctrines that they 
 turn, as though it were only when quite 
 out of their depth, that they gain a rest- 
 ing-place for the soul ] I admire, I 
 greatly admire, the picture of a Chris- 
 tian, as furnished by the prophetic 
 sketch of the Jews in our text ! He is 
 a man who is never weary of hearing 
 of the wav to Zion, though his face is 
 towards the heavenly city, and he may 
 perhaps already behold its battlements 
 on the horizon. I know not how far 
 the exiles had advanced when they 
 might first be described by the predic- 
 tion before us. But there is nothing to 
 limit the prediction to one point rather 
 than to another of the journey. For 
 anything we know, those blue hills in 
 the distance may be the mountains which 
 are " round about Jerusalem," and the 
 I waters which they are crossing may 
 
SEEKING, AFTER FINDING 
 
 63 
 
 have flowed by its ruined walls ; and 
 yet, as though they had but just quit- 
 ted Babylon, the wanderers are asking 
 the way, loving to be told what they 
 know, and delighting to hear, though 
 not needing to be taught. 
 
 It is thus with the believer. What 
 was glad news to him at the beginning, 
 is glad news to him to the end : the pre- 
 scribed way to safety, through repent- 
 ance and faith, cannot be exhibited with- 
 out fixing his attention, exciting his 
 gratitude, and animating his hope. Let 
 him be even on the border of the land, 
 let him be even on the brink of the Jor- 
 dan, and nothing will accord belter with 
 his feelings, nothing will more minister 
 to his peace, than discourse, not on the 
 New Jerusalem itself, but on the path 
 by which it must be reached. The min- 
 ister stands by a dying Christian, that, 
 in the hour of dissolution, he may whis- 
 per words of comfort. And what hath 
 he spoken of, that there is so bright a 
 smile on the cheek of the sufferer, that 
 the sunken eye is suddenly lit up as 
 though with fire from above 1 Surely, 
 say the bystanders, he hath spoken of 
 the diadem, and the white robe, and the 
 golden hai - p, of the palaces of immortal- 
 ity, and of the raptures of those who have 
 cast off the burden of the flesh. Ah, no ! 
 — he hath spoken as he would have 
 done to the young inquirer in religion. 
 He hath spoken of the Divine love in 
 finding a ransom : he hath spoken of 
 the blood of Christ as cleansing from 
 all sin : he hath spoken of the interces- 
 sion of Christ as securing all blessing. 
 And if surprise be expressed that such 
 elementary discourse should be cheer- 
 ing to a man as he almost entered hea- 
 ven, the minister will have only to re- 
 ply, that the true believer is one, who, 
 to the very end, resembles the Jews as 
 they journeyed from Babylon to Canaan, 
 and who asked " the way to Zion, with 
 their faces thitherward." 
 
 But there is yet one more particular 
 on which we wish to insist ; not that we 
 think that we shall then have exhausted 
 the text ; but that what we have still to 
 advance is of so practical a character, 
 that we could not be justified in its 
 omission. We would direct your atten- 
 tion to what we may call the honesty of 
 purpose displayed by the Jews, and 
 hold it up for imitation to all who pro- 
 fess to be seeking the kingdom of God. 
 
 The Jew had his face turned towards 
 Zion, whilst he was inquiring the road : 
 if he did not know the precise path, he 
 knew the direction in which the city lay ; 
 and he was looking in the dii'ection, 
 when he asked what way he should 
 take. He might have been looking in 
 another direction : his eye might have 
 been to the city which he had to quit, 
 and not to that to which he had to eo : 
 and then there would have been good 
 reason to suspect that he preferred the 
 remaining in Babylon, though he pro- 
 fessed a desire to remove to Jerusalem. 
 But as his face was already Zionwards, 
 he gave evidence of being in earnest : 
 he had done as much as he could do 
 with his amount of infonnation, and 
 there could be no doubt that he was 
 sincere in his inquiry for more. 
 
 We have a right to require and ex- 
 pect a similar conduct from all those who 
 ask of us the way to heaven. There is 
 such a thing as asking the way to Zion 
 with the face towards Babylon ; and if 
 there be this dissimulation — for no mild- 
 er word will express the precise truth — 
 in vain will the preacher point out the 
 road, and urge the traveller to decision 
 and dispatch. We fear it to be true of 
 numbers amongst you, that they ask the 
 way to heaven, but keep looking towards 
 the world. What interpretation are 
 we to put upon your appearance Sab- 
 bath after Sabbath in the sanctuary of 
 God, if not that it professes a wish for 
 instruction, a desire to be informed how, 
 as immortal creatures, you may escape 
 lasting misery, and secure lasting hap- 
 piness ] We cannot, in the judg- 
 ment of charity, put a less favorable 
 construction on your coming up to 
 God's house ; we cannot regard it as 
 a mere compliance with custom, or 
 as a mode of passing away time, which 
 might otherwise hang heavy on your 
 hands. Every man who frequents the 
 public ordinances of the Church is 
 certainly to be considered as thereby, 
 if by nothing else, asking of those 
 whom God hath set as guides to the 
 wandering, by what way he may reach 
 the kingdom of heaven. 
 
 But it is in vain that the answer is 
 continually given, and that, on successive 
 opportunities, the minister of Christ 
 holds forth the chart, and delineates the 
 path. And the great reason of this is, 
 that there is no honesty of purpose in the 
 
64 
 
 SEEKING, AFTER FINDING. 
 
 inquirer, no real intention of acting on 
 the information which he professes to 
 want. His face is towards the world at 
 the very moment that, with all the show 
 of a traveller towards Zion, he is making 
 inquiries as to a path and conveyance. 
 And we would have you distinctly un- 
 derstand, that there is a certain part 
 which the unconverted man has to per- 
 form if he hope for conversion ; and that 
 whilst this is undone, he has no right to 
 look for the visitations of brace. It may 
 not be in his power to find for himself 
 the pathway of life; still less to take a 
 step on that pathway whef? found. But 
 he may ascertain the direction in which 
 Zion lies, and he may be looking in that 
 direction, if not advancing. It is quite 
 idle to say that he knows not the direc- 
 tion : he knows it to be the exact oppo- 
 site to that in which he naturally looks ; 
 to turn his eyes from the world is, as 
 he must be thoroughly aware, to turn 
 them towards them. 
 
 And we expect this from every one 
 of you who, in any shape, puts the in- 
 quiry, " What must I do to be saved ] " 
 We expect him to be an imitator of the 
 Jews who, if they asked the way to 
 Zion, asked it with " their faces thither- 
 ward." What mean you by coming to 
 God's house, not merely with your af- 
 fections set on earthly things, but with- 
 out an effort to disengage them'? with 
 no intention of entering on a course of 
 labor and self-denial, if such should be 
 prescribed ] but rather with the secret 
 determination of persevering a while 
 longer in courses which you know to be 
 wrong 1 What mean you by this hy- 
 pocrisy, this double dealing ? What 
 mean you by this imitation of Lot's 
 wife, who, if she had her foot towards 
 Zoar, had her face towards Sodom ] 
 Show that you are in earnest by the di- 
 rection in which you look ; otherwise it 
 is in vain to ask guidance as to the way 
 in which to walk. The man who is in 
 earnest will set himself at once to the 
 turning his back on what conscience 
 tells him to be wrong, or the Bible de- 
 clares to be offensive to God. He will 
 make it his business to forsake pursuits 
 or associates, however agreeable, which 
 draw him to the visible world, and to 
 enter upon duties whose distinct ten- 
 dency is towards the invisible. And 
 this, at the least, is the setting his face 
 heavenwards, a preliminary, as we are 
 
 bold to affirm, to his being enabled to 
 direct his course heavenwards. 
 
 For it is an indisputable rule in the 
 dealings of God, to give more grace in 
 proportion as that already given is im- 
 proved. He hath given strength to turn 
 the eye — turn it, or never look for 
 strength to move the foot. And if you 
 would know whether it be an indifferent 
 thing, that you continue asking the way 
 to heaven with vour face towards the 
 world, you have only to refer to the 
 writings of Ezekiel, where God Him- 
 self expresses his sense of the duplicity. 
 " Every one of the house of Israel, 
 which separateth himself from me, and 
 setteth up his idols in his heart, and put- 
 teth the stumbling-block of his iniquity 
 before his face, and cometh to a prophet 
 to inquire of him concerning me, I the 
 Lord will answer him by myself, and I 
 will set my face against that man, and 
 will make him a sign and a proverb." 
 The case here supposed is precisely 
 that which we are forced to regard as 
 frequent amongst ourselves, the case of 
 a man who, with his heart full of the 
 idols of the world, with the stumbling- 
 block of his iniquity put " before his 
 face," — so far is he from any effort to 
 put it behind his back, — comes to in- 
 quire of the prophet concerning God, as 
 though he wished to know how hisfevor 
 might be gained. And God takes upon 
 Himself the giving him his answer, an 
 answer expressive of singular indigna- 
 tion, and more than common vengeance. 
 That man is to be made " a sign and a 
 proverb," a sign, as was the wife of 
 Lot, to whom we have already referred, 
 who was turned into a pillar of salt, that 
 the wavering and hypocritical of all 
 after-ages might be admonished and 
 warned. 
 
 We can, therefore, but urge on you 
 the taking heed how you come to in- 
 quire of the prophet, with no sincere 
 purpose of acting on his directions. See 
 to it that ye, turn your face towards 
 heaven ; for this is in the power of all 
 of you, through those workings of God's 
 Spirit, of which every breast is the 
 scene. Ye cannot turn the heart, but 
 ye can turn the face. Ye can turn 
 the back to the world, which is to turn 
 the face towards heaven ; and it is God's 
 ordinary course to give the new heart 
 to those who prove that they desire it, 
 by looking away from all which the old 
 
THE BIRD S NEST. 
 
 65 
 
 heart is prone to love and prefer. Then 
 inquire the way to heaven ; then, when 
 your sincerity is proved, and you have 
 shown, by your striving to obey God up 
 to the measure of your knowledge and 
 ability, that you would improve a great- 
 er measure if mercifully vouchsafed. 
 
 Thus will you be doing as did the chil- 
 dren of Judah : and you shall find that, 
 directed as they were into the right, 
 though perhaps a rough path, you shall 
 reach at length the land which God pro- 
 mised to your fathers, and sit down de- 
 lightedly in the long-lost inheritance. 
 
 SERMON VIII. 
 
 THE BIRD'S NEST. 
 
 u If a bird's nest chance to be before thee in the way in any tree, or on the ground, whether they be young ones, or 
 eggs, and the dam sitting upon the young, or upon the eggs, thou shalt not take the dam with the young: but thoii 
 shalt in any wise let the dam go, and take the young to thee ; that it may be well with thee, and that thou niayest 
 prolong thy days." — Deutebonomy xxil 0, 7. 
 
 The question of St. Paul, after quot- 
 ing a precept from the law as to not 
 muzzling the ox when it treadeth out 
 the corn, will here naturally recur to 
 your minds, " Doth God take care for 
 oxen ? " On hearing our text, almost 
 every one will be disposed to exclaim, 
 " Doth God take care for birds ] " Not 
 that the question is meant to convey any 
 doubt as to the Divine care for the infe- 
 rior creation. We know that God 
 " feedeth the young ravens that call up- 
 on him," and that, though five sparrows 
 are sold for two farthings, " not one of 
 them is forgotten before God." But 
 when St. Paul proposes his question in 
 regard of oxen, it is not to insinuate that 
 it was beneath God to take care of oxen, 
 or that the precept, which he quotes, 
 was not designed to have a literal appli- 
 cation. What he wishes to have under- 
 stood, is simply, that the law had other 
 and higher ends in view, besides the 
 mere securing for the laboring ox a 
 share in the produce of his labors. He 
 instructs us that such a precept was 
 meant to have a figurative, or symboli- 
 cal, as well as a literal interpretation ; 
 that, whilst, in obedience to it, the ox 
 
 was not to be muzzled when treading 
 out the corn, in further obedience, a due 
 maintenance was to be afforded to the 
 preachers of the Gospel. " Doth God 
 take care for oxen 1 or saith he it alto- 
 gether for our sakes? For our sakes no 
 doubt this is written : that he that plow- 
 eth should plow in hope, and that he 
 that thresheth in hope should be partak- 
 er of his hope." 
 
 In thus amplifying a precept of the 
 law, St. Paul may be said to have fur- 
 nished a sreneral rule as to the mode in 
 which similar precepts should be inter- 
 preted and applied. We are not to re- 
 gard them as bavins- to do merely with 
 the specific case to which the words ad- 
 dress themselves : we are rather to 
 search for the principle involved in the 
 law, or on which the law is founded ; to 
 examine in what other cases the same 
 principle will hold good ; and to con- 
 clude, that, in every such case, the law 
 was intended to be equally binding. 
 
 It is thus that we shall endeavor to 
 proceed with that very peculiar law 
 which we have taken as our present 
 subject of discourse. We are very much 
 struck with this law, not because it has 
 9 
 
66 
 
 THE BIRD'S NEST. 
 
 to do with a matter apparently trifling, 
 and unworthy to be the object of Divine 
 legislation, but because there is annexed 
 to it the same promise as to command- 
 ments of the highest import and require- 
 ment. For you will observe that length 
 of days, the very blessing which was 
 to flow from giving to parents the honor 
 prescribed by the fifth commandment, is 
 held forth as a recompense to obedience 
 in this matter of a bird and her nest. 
 " That it may be well with thee, and 
 that thou mayest prolong thy days." 
 The commandment may have to do with 
 a trivial thing ; but it is evident enough 
 that it cannot be a trivial commandment : 
 indeed, no commandment can be which 
 proceeds from God, because what is in- 
 different, or unimportant, so long as it 
 is not the subject of a command, changes 
 its whole character the moment that it is. 
 But, apart from this general consider- 
 ation, on which we may find occasion 
 hereafter to insist, the mere circumstance 
 that the prolongation of life is set forth 
 as the result of obedience, should satisfy 
 you that the precept before us is not to 
 be passed over as requiring little notice, 
 but should rather be studied as fraught 
 with instruction, conveying, like that ex- 
 pounded by St. Paul, figurative lessons 
 of the very widest application. Dis- 
 miss, then, the thought which, not un- 
 naturally, may have been excited by the 
 first announcement of the text, the 
 thought of there being almost something 
 to provoke a smile in a bird's nest giv- 
 ing subject for a sermon. Let us en- 
 deavor to ascertain on what principles 
 the precept before us is founded, what 
 dispositions it inculcates and cherishes ; 
 and we shall find that there is no cause 
 for surprise, in the annexment of a pro- 
 mise of long life to obedience to the di- 
 rection, " If a bird's nest chance to be 
 before thee in the way in any tree, or 
 on the ground, thou shalt not take the 
 dam with the young." 
 
 Now you will see at once, that, had 
 the precept been of a more stringent 
 character, it might, in some sense, have 
 been more easily vindicated and explain- 
 ed. Had it forbidden altogether the 
 meddling with the nest, had it required 
 that not only should the mother-bird be 
 let go, but that neither the young birds, 
 nor the eggs, should be taken, it would 
 at once have been said that God was 
 graciously protecting the inferior crea- 
 
 tion, and forbidding man to act towards 
 them with any kind of cruelty. But the 
 precept permits the taking the nest : it 
 does not even hint that it might be bet- 
 ter to let the nest alone : it simply con 
 fines itself to protecting the parent-bird, 
 and thus allows, if it does not actually 
 direct, what may be thought an inhuman 
 thing, the carrying off the young to the 
 manifest disappointment' and pain of 
 the mother. 
 
 It should not however be unobserved, 
 that the precept does not touch the case 
 in which there is an actual looking for 
 the nest. It is not a direction as to 
 what should be done, if a nest were 
 found after diligent search ; but only as 
 to what should be done, if a nest were 
 found by mere chance or accident. You 
 will observe how the precept is intro- 
 duced, " If a bird's nest chance to be 
 before thee in the way in any tree, or 
 on the ground." The nest was to be in 
 some exposed situation, where it could 
 not well be overlooked ; and this cir- 
 cumstance may have had to do with the 
 construction of the commandment. — 
 Without pretending to argue that God 
 would have forbidden the searching for 
 the nest, it is highly probable that there 
 was something significant in this direc- 
 tion as to taking the nest, in the parti- 
 cular case when that nest had been un- 
 wisely placed. We are sure, from va- 
 rious testimonies of Scripture, that God 
 has designed to instruct us in and through 
 the inferior creation, the birds of the air, 
 and the beasts of the field, beinor often 
 appealed to when men have to be taught 
 and admonished. And we know not, 
 therefore, that there can be any thing 
 far-fetched in supposing, that, by sanc- 
 tioning a sort of injury to the bird, which 
 had built its nest in an insecure place, 
 God meant to teach us, that, if we will 
 not take due precautions for our own 
 safety, we are not to expect the shield 
 of his protection. There would hardly 
 have been such emphasis laid on the 
 nest's " chancing to be in the way," if 
 it had not been designed that we should 
 observe how unwisely the nest had been 
 placed, and draw some inference as to 
 the need of prudence on our own part, 
 if we hope to experience the guardian- 
 ship of God. 
 
 This, however, only goes to the ex- 
 plaining why there was any permission 
 for taking the nest, when you might 
 
THE BIRD S NEST. 
 
 67 
 
 rather have expected, that, had God 
 legislated on such a matter at all, it 
 would have been for the protection of the 
 young birds as well as of the old. But 
 now, as to the permission itself, we may 
 throw together some general considera- 
 tions which go to the showing that there 
 was great significance in the allowing 
 that only the young should be taken, 
 whilst the old were let go. Were not 
 the Israelites hereby taught to be mode- 
 rate in their desires ? The first impulse 
 would be to seize the old bird with the 
 young, and thus secure as much as pos- 
 sible. But this is nothing better than 
 the impulse of covetousness ; and it was 
 like evrmg a lesson against covetousness, 
 a lesson so constructed as to be capable 
 of being reproduced in great variety of 
 circumstances, when the finder of a 
 prize, who might fancy himself at liberty 
 to appropriate the whole, was required 
 to content himself with a part. And, 
 over and above the lesson against covet- 
 ousness, there was also in the precept a 
 lesson against recklessness or waste. 
 For to have taken possession of the old 
 bird together with the young, would 
 have been to have destroyed, in that 
 case, the further multiplication of the 
 kind : in certain states of the animal 
 creation, it would have been almost tan- 
 tamount to the extinguishing a species ; 
 and in every state it was doing as much 
 aSj at the moment, could be done towards 
 preventing a species from increasing on 
 the earth. 
 
 The precept set itself against this im- 
 provident and wasteful appropriation of 
 God's creatures. It required man, whilst 
 supplying his present wants, to have due 
 regard to his future ; yea, and to the 
 wants of others, as well as to his own : 
 it virtually said to him, Take what is 
 enough for thee to-day, in taking the 
 nest ; but the old bird may build another 
 nest, which may be useful to another, 
 or to thyself another day ; therefore, 
 "thou shalt in any wise let the dam go." 
 We do not of course mean that such a 
 lesson was to hold good merely in the 
 particular instance. On the contrary, 
 there is a general principle thus shown 
 to be involved in the precept ; and we 
 are supposing that the precept was con- 
 structed for the purpose of embodying 
 and enforcing such principles. There 
 is a reckless disposition in many, a pro- 
 fuse expenditure of whatsoever they can 
 
 lay hands on, little regard being had to 
 future wants, and the very means of 
 supplying them being often improvi- 
 dently and unnecessarily anticipated. 
 Does not the precept before us distinctly 
 condemn all such prodigality, extrava- 
 gance, and want of due forethought ? 
 You may apply the principle to a hun- 
 dred cases. Whenever men live upon 
 the caj}ital, when the interest would 
 suffice; whenever they recklessly con- 
 sume all their earnings, though those 
 earnings might enable them to lay some- 
 thing by ; when, so long as, by eager 
 grasping, they can secure what they like 
 for themselves, they are utterly indiffer- 
 ent as to interfering with the supplies 
 and enjoyments of others — in every such 
 case, they are violating the precept be- 
 fore us ; they are taking the old bird 
 with the young ; as, on the other hand, 
 by treating as a sin any thing like waste- 
 fulness, by a prudent management of 
 the gifts and mercies of God, by such 
 a wise husbandry of resources as shall 
 prove a consciousness that the Di- 
 vine liberality in place of sanctioning 
 extravagance, should be a motive to 
 economy, they may be said to be vir- 
 tually obeying the precept; they are 
 taking the young, but letting the dam 
 
 And though these are but general 
 considerations, which can hardly be said 
 to carry you into the interior of the 
 commandment, so as to show you why 
 long life should be annexed to obedience, 
 they may yet suffice to divest that com- 
 mandment of all the air of trivial legis- 
 lation with which you might be ready, 
 on its first announcement, to consider it 
 invested. True, it is only about a bird's 
 nest that the ever-living God is here de- 
 livering a law. But if there be couched 
 in that law denunciations alike of the 
 covetous and the spendthrift, so that 
 every one, who studied its spirit, would 
 find himself directed to a risrht use of 
 
 O 
 
 God's creatures, surely enough has al- 
 ready been said to do away all surprise 
 at finding in the Jewish code such a di- 
 rection as this, " If a bird's nest chance 
 to be before thee in the way, thou shalt 
 in any wise take to thee the young, and 
 let the dam go." 
 
 But now let us look more narrowly 
 into the reasons of the precept : we 
 shall probably find, if we examine the 
 peculiarities of the case, that the com- 
 
68 
 
 THE BIRDS NEST. 
 
 mandment before us has a yet more di- 
 rect and extensive application. It could 
 oidy be, yon will observe, the attach- 
 ment of the mother-bird to its young, 
 which, for the most part, would put it in 
 the power of the finder of the nest to take 
 both together. If the mother-bird cared 
 only for her own safety, if she were indif- 
 ferent to her offspring, she would take 
 flight in any possible danger, and leave 
 the inmates of the nest a prey to any 
 enemy. But her powerful affection to- 
 wards her defenceless little ones keeps 
 her close to them, makes her hover 
 about them when threatened with dan- 
 ger, and even urges her to resist an as- 
 sailant, whom, under any other circum- 
 stances, she would have fled from pre- 
 cipitately. So that, except in some rare 
 instances, it is nothing but parental 
 affection which would put it in 
 man's power to take the old with the 
 young : the young cannot make their 
 escape, but the mother-bird might ; 
 and the mother-bird would, if she were 
 not the mother-bird, and moved by the 
 strongest instinct to stay with her 
 brood. 
 
 And when you bring this circumstance 
 into the account, you can hardly doubt 
 that one great reason why God protect- 
 ed the mother-bird by an express com- 
 mandment, was, that He might point 
 out the excellence of parental affection, 
 and teach us that we were not to take 
 advantage of such an affection, in order to 
 any injury to the parties who displayed 
 it. He would not have the mother-bird 
 injured, when it was only her affection 
 as a mother which gave the opportunity 
 of injuring her. Under other circum- 
 stances, this mother-bird might be taken ; 
 there was no law against that ; but 
 whensoever it was her attachment to 
 her young which exposed her to the 
 being taken, then God interposed with 
 a distinct prohibition, and commanded 
 that she should not be taken. Surely it 
 may justly be said that God hereby 
 threw a kind of sacredness around pa- 
 rental affection, and delivered moreover 
 a solemn injunction against our ever 
 making use of the power, which such 
 an affection may give us, to work mis- 
 chief to the party by whom it is display- 
 ed. This is one of the most important 
 of the points of view under which the 
 text can be considered ; and we shall 
 strive, by some general illustrations, to 
 
 put you well in posssesion of the pre- 
 cise facts of the case. 
 
 You must be all quite aware, that the 
 affection which one party bears to ano- 
 ther, may be taken advantage of, and 
 that, too, to his manifest detriment. For 
 example, circumstances place the child 
 of another in your power ; you are 
 about to oppress or ill use that child : 
 the parent entreats : you agree to re- 
 lease the child, but only on conditions 
 with which the parent would never have 
 complied, had it not been for the strong 
 pleadings of natural affection — what do 
 you do in such a case but make use of a 
 power, derived solely from the parent's 
 love, to effect the parent's injury 1 you 
 seize, so to speak, the mother-bird, when 
 it is only her being the mother-bird which 
 has given you the opportunity of seizure. 
 
 This is a precise case in point ; but 
 you may say that it is one only of imagi- 
 nary occurrence, and not at all likely. 
 We admit that. But what we want is, 
 that you should get hold of the princi- 
 ple involved in the text, and you will 
 then quickly see how it works in great 
 variety of cases. And you get hold of 
 the principle by observing such a case 
 as has just been supposed. There the 
 opportunity of injuring a parent is fur- 
 nished through that parent's affection 
 for a child ; and the precept before us 
 is violated, inasmuch as the affection, in 
 place of serving as a shield to the pa- 
 rent, is taken advantage of for the doincr 
 him a mischief. 
 
 But evidently the involved principle 
 is of very wide application. A parent 
 may take improper advantage of a 
 child's love, a child of a parent's. A 
 parent may work on the affections of a 
 child, urging the child, by the love 
 which he bears to a father or mother, to 
 do something wrong, something against 
 which conscience remonstrates : this is 
 a case in point ; this is a case in which 
 improper advantage is taken of affection, 
 or injurious use is made of a power, 
 which, as in the case of the bird and 
 her young, nothing but strong affection 
 has originated. Suppose, for instance, 
 the child is of a serious and religious 
 turn of mind, averse from scenes of 
 frivolity and dissipation, and the pa- 
 rent wishes to take the child into such 
 scenes, and makes the child's accom- 
 panying him a test of filial attach- 
 ment ; why, that parent is working the 
 
THE BIRDS NEST. 
 
 69 
 
 child's injury through the child's affec- 
 tion ; the very thing which is virtually 
 forbidden by the precept before us. 
 
 On the other hand, a child may make 
 an improper use of a parent's affection. 
 Wishing 1 for something which the pa- 
 
 O OX 
 
 rent, as he knows, disapproves and 
 thinks 'wrong, some gratification, indul- 
 gence, amusement, he may work upon 
 the parent's love ; he may appeal to that 
 love, calculating that it will not be able 
 to resist his importunity. This is the 
 same thing again : here a wrong is at- 
 tempted towards the parent, (for a wrong 
 is done by an inducement to do wrong,) 
 and it is only the affection of the parent 
 which gives the opportunity of making 
 the attempt. 
 
 Or, to pass out of the particular case of 
 parents and children, all the attachments 
 which exist in life, and bind together 
 the various members of society, may be 
 taken advantage of for some injurious 
 purpose, inasmuch as they will open a 
 door of assault where otherwise the 
 party would be cpiite beyond reach. 
 The husband may use the influence 
 given him by the affection of the wife, 
 to induce her to comply with his wishes 
 in things which she feels, or suspects to 
 be wrong. The wife may make pre- 
 cisely the same use of the affection of 
 her husband : she may work upon him 
 through that affection; endeavoring to 
 persuade him into courses from which 
 he is repugnant, and which, had it not 
 been for his affection, she would have 
 had no opportunity, or at least no likeli- 
 hood, of prevailing on him to adopt. 
 
 It is exactly the same amongst brothers 
 and sisters, amongst friends and acquaint- 
 ances. Any one relation may take ad- 
 vantage of another, and work, through 
 that affection, the injury of the party by 
 whom it is entertained. The parent 
 bird, clinging to the nest, is but an ex- 
 ample how binding the natural affections 
 may be, and how these affections may 
 expose to dangers which, but for them, 
 would never be incurred. And the ex- 
 press direction to let go the parent bird, 
 has only to be expanded by expanding 
 the principle which it palpably involves, 
 and you have a general charge as to 
 carefulness in using 'the power which is 
 derived to you from the affections of 
 others. God endowed us with these 
 affections, w r ith the gracious purpose of 
 smoothing and sweetening life, and of 
 
 furnishing an instrumentality through 
 which Himself might be appreciated, 
 and apprehended as our chief good. 
 And it is a mighty power, for injuring, 
 or for benefiting, which is conferred by 
 lliese affections. You can hardly over- 
 rate the influence which, in the several 
 relations of life, is possessed by those 
 who are the objects of these affections, 
 an influence which would wholly disap- 
 pear, were the affections withdrawn. 
 And God would have us shun, with the 
 greatest possible solicitude, the making 
 an ungenerous use of this influence, 
 turning it to the injury of the party 
 whose affection has created it. Parents 
 are to be specially careful what advan- 
 tage they take of filial love, and children, 
 what advantage they take of parental. 
 Each must shun, as they would the 
 desecration of what is holy, and the per- 
 petrating what is base, the working on 
 the other, against the dictates of that 
 other's conscience, through the medium 
 of the affections. If the mother-bird 
 is to be taken, at least let it not be whilst 
 sitting on the nest. It is bad enough to 
 bring a friend, or relation, into moral 
 danger, to make him the captive of sin : 
 it is worse, it is like what is elsewhere 
 denounced in Scripture, the seething a 
 kid in its mother's milk, to use his at- 
 tachment -to accelerate his ruin. 
 
 Consider then, all of you, whatever 
 the special ties which associate you with 
 others, that you commit a signal sin, a 
 sin signally displeasing to God from its 
 ungenerous, or, rather, unnatural cha- 
 racter, when, in place of usingthe influ- 
 ence which affection confers, to the 
 making others more devoted to religion, 
 you employ it on the keeping them in 
 bondage to Satan, or on bringing them 
 back after they had broken the chain. 
 You thought that our text had to do 
 with a very trivial matter; you were 
 almost readvto smile that there should 
 be a law about birds' nests. But now 
 observe where we have found that nest : 
 we have found it amid the warmest 
 charities of the heart, builded of those 
 tender and glowing affections, which 
 you have only to destroy, and you make 
 earth a desert. And because there is 
 such a nest, a nest brooded upon by 
 bright rich wings, which even danger 
 cannot provoke into flight, you possess 
 a power of doing an injury; you may 
 help to imprison an immortal soul, a soul, 
 
70 
 
 THE BIRD'S NEST. 
 
 which, had it not been thus detained, i 
 would have sprung upwards, and reach- 
 ed "the glorious liberty of the children 
 of God." O foul, flagitious use of a 
 power bestowed by an affection which 
 should have secured, as it deserved, 
 most generous treatment ! () wretched 
 parents, who, knowing the devoted at- 
 tachment of children, work through that 
 attachment to the persuading them to 
 seek happiness in the world ! O wretch- 
 ed children, who, calculating on the 
 fondness of parents, entreat permission 
 to adventure into scenes of temptation ! 
 O wretched kinsfolk, wretched friends, 
 who, knowing themselves beloved, 
 would urge those who love them to 
 commence, or continue, some unrigh- 
 teous practice ! Again we say, if ye 
 will seethe the kid, at least seethe it 
 not in its mother's milk. If you must 
 help to keep others in sin, let it not be 
 through the power which their affection 
 communicates. This is aggravating the 
 guilt : this is making the injury more 
 atrocious : this is abusing a high trust, 
 gaining a heart that you may pierce it, 
 a fountain that you may poison it. And 
 this is what is so forcibly, though figura- 
 tively, denounced by the precept of our 
 text, a precept which says nothing 
 against seizing the parent bird, when it 
 is not her affection for her brood which 
 puts her in your power, but which, in 
 that case, is most decisive against her 
 being made prisoner : " Thou shalt not 
 take the dam with the young ; thou shalt 
 in any wise let the dam go, that it may 
 be well with thee, and that thou mayest 
 prolong thy days." 
 
 But our text has yet to be considered 
 under another point of view. We have 
 hitherto contended, that, though it be 
 apparently an insignificant matter with 
 which the commandment before us is 
 concerned, principles are involved of a 
 high order, and a wide application, so 
 that there is no reason for surprise at 
 finding long life promised as the reward 
 of obedience. But we will now assume 
 the Jews' opinion to have been correct : 
 they were wont to say of this command- 
 ment, that it was the least amongst the 
 commandments of Moses. Admit it to 
 have been so; admit it to have been a 
 very trifling thing which was enjoined, 
 and that no satisfactory reason can be 
 given why the Divine lawgiver should 
 have made a specific enactment as to 
 
 such a matter as a bird's nest. There 
 are other commandments in the law, for 
 which it might be hard to assign any 
 sufficient reason, save and except that it 
 was God's pleasure to ordain them. 
 There may have been some figurative, 
 or symbolical, meaning ; but perhaps it 
 is as well to suppose and confess that 
 God merely sought to put obedience to 
 the proof, when He said, " Thou shalt 
 not wear a garment of divers sorts, as 
 of woolen and linen together ; " or, 
 " Thou shalt make thee fringes upon the 
 four quarters of thy vesture, wherewith 
 thou coverest thyself." 
 
 Yet, admitting that there are such 
 things as commandments about trifles, 
 admitting also that the commandment 
 before us may be reckoned in the num- 
 ber, is there any cause for wonder that 
 such a blessing as Ion? life should be 
 promised by way of recompense to obe- 
 dience 1 My brethren, there is a great- 
 er trial of obedience, in a commandment 
 of which we cannot see the reasons, than 
 in another of which we can. In the 
 former case, we do, or forbear, a thing, 
 simply because God hath enjoined, or 
 forbidden, it ; in the latter, we are not 
 moved purely by the divinity of the 
 precept, we are actuated also by a sense 
 of its propriety. A commandment which 
 forbids murder, is a commandment syl- 
 labled by conscience, as well as deliver- 
 ed by God : he who lifts his hand to 
 slay another, does as much violence to 
 an irrepressible dictate from within, as 
 to an indelible record from without. But 
 a commandment which forbids the seiz- 
 ing a bird whilst sitting on the nest, is 
 a commandment which takes its force 
 purely from being a commandment : you 
 might have done the thing: innocently, 
 had there been no express prohibition ; 
 and, therefore, it is only there being; a 
 
 «■' O 
 
 prohibition which makes the doing it 
 wrong. And surely, it may be a greater 
 effort of obedience, to obey in some lit- 
 tle thing, where there is no other reason 
 but that God hath required it, than to 
 obey in some great thing, where our 
 
 own sense of what is ritrht urg-es to com- 
 es o 
 
 pliance. 
 
 The tendency of our minds is to the 
 asking a reason for every thin?. It is 
 so with doctrines. God reveals to us a 
 truth : but we are not content to take it 
 on the authority of revelation ; we are 
 for asking with Nicodemus, " How can 
 
THE BIRDS NEST. 
 
 these things be ] " we want to be able to 
 explain the doctrine, and thus to find 
 grounds for our belief, over and above 
 the simple word of the Lord. But un- 
 doubtedly it is a higher, and must be a 
 more acceptable, exercise of faith, when 
 we receive a truth, because revealed, 
 than when, because, besides being re- 
 vealed, we can so arrange it that it com- 
 mends itself to our reason. 
 
 It is the same with commandments. 
 God enjoins a certain thing : but we can 
 hardly bring ourselves to obey, simply 
 because He has enjoined it. We have 
 our inquiries to urge — why has He en- 
 joined it I if it be an indifferent thing, 
 we want to know why He should have 
 made it the subject of a law 1 why not 
 have let it alone ? Why not ] Because, 
 we may venture to reply, He wishes to 
 test the principle of obedience : He 
 wishes to see whether his will and his 
 word are sufficient for us. In order to 
 this, He must legislate upon things which 
 in themselves are indifferent, neither 
 morally good nor morally bad : He must 
 not confine laws to such matters as rob- 
 bing a neighbor's house, on which con- 
 science is urgent ; He must extend them 
 to such matters as taking a bird's nest, 
 on which conscience is silent. 
 
 It is the same as with a child. He is 
 walking in a stranger's garden, and you 
 forbid his picking fruit: he knows that 
 the fruit is not his, and therefore feels a 
 reason for the prohibition. But he is 
 walking on a common, and you forbid 
 his picking wild flowers : he knows that 
 no one has property in these flowers, 
 and therefore he cannot see any reason 
 for your prohibition. Suppose him how- 
 ever to obey in both cases, abstaining 
 alike from the flowers and the fruit, in 
 which case does he show most of the 
 principle of obedience, most of respect 
 for your authority and of submission to 
 your will % Surely, when he does not 
 touch the flowers, which he sees no rea- 
 son for not touching, rather than when 
 he does not gather the fruit, which he 
 feels that he can have no right to gather. 
 
 It is exactly the same with God and 
 ourselves. He may forbid things which 
 we should have felt to be wrong, even 
 had they nut been forbidden : He may 
 forbid things which we should not have 
 felt wrong, nay, which would not have 
 been wrong, unless He had forbidden 
 them. But in which case is our obe- 
 
 71 
 
 dience most put to the proof ] not sure- 
 ly as to the thing criminal even without 
 a commandment : but as to the thing in- 
 different till there was a commandment. 
 God might have made it the test of 
 Adam's obedience that he should not 
 kill Eve — a crime from which he would 
 have instinctively revolted : but it was 
 a much greater trial that he should not 
 eat of a particular fruit ; for eating it 
 was no crime till he was told not to eat , 
 it. 
 
 And we may justly believe that, 'in. 
 constructing the Jewish code, God in- 
 terspersed laws for which there was -no 
 apparent reason with others for which 
 there was palpable, on purpose that He 
 might see whether his people would 
 obey his word, simply because it was 
 his word ; whether they would wait to 
 know why He commanded, or be satis- 
 fied with ascertaining what He com- 
 manded. But upon this, which is mani- 
 festly the correct view of obedience, it 
 is to inconsiderable precepts, precepts 
 as to inconsiderable things, rather than 
 to those which have to do with felt and 
 undeniable duties, that we might expect 
 to find annexed a promise of reward. 
 The obedience which shows most ofthe 
 readiness to obey, must be the obe- 
 dience which God most approves : 'and 
 if there be shown more of readiness to 
 obey, where the thing done would have 
 been indifferent, than where it would 
 have been criminal without express 
 command, we can have no difficulty in 
 settling that the recompense of long life 
 was even more to be looked for when 
 the precept had to do with a trifle than 
 when with the mightiest obligation. 
 Look at the Jewish law — " Thou shalt 
 not pervert the judgment of the stran- 
 ger, nor of the fatherless," — a noble 
 commandment, to whose fitness every 
 heart responds. " If a bird's nest chance 
 to be before thee, thou shalt not take 
 the dam with the young," — a trivial 
 comandtnent, for which it is perhaps 
 hard to assign any reason. Yet it is to 
 the latter, the trivial, and not to the for- 
 mer, the noble, that the words are add- 
 ed, " That it may be well with thee, and 
 that thou mayest prolong thy days." 
 Do ye wonder at this 1 Nay, it is not 
 that it is a better thing in itself to let 
 the parent bird go, than to minister jus- 
 tice to the stranger and the fatherless : 
 but that it is often harder to obey in 
 
72 
 
 THE BIRD S NEST. 
 
 trifles, where we looked to have been 
 left fit liberty, than in great things, as to 
 whose fitness there has never been a 
 doubt. 
 
 By Buch laws, with such sanctions, 
 God may be said to have consecrated 
 trifles ; to have taught us that trifles 
 may be the best tests of principles; that 
 our religion may be better proved by 
 the habitual giving up of our own wills 
 in common and every-day things, than 
 by occasional and opulent sacrifices ; 
 that it is a greater effort of piety, mark- 
 ing more the depth of our reverence for 
 the word of the Almighty, to make con- 
 science of little duties which are made 
 duties only by that word, than to give 
 Ourselves to high tasks, to which we are 
 summoned by the wants of the world 
 and the voice of the Church. It may 
 be easier, it may require less of that 
 simple, unquestioning obedience in 
 which God delights, to attack supersti- 
 tion on its throne, than to let the bird 
 fly from its nest. Be careful, then, in 
 religion how you make trifles of trifles. 
 Stay not to find out why God has for- 
 bidden this or that indulgence, why He 
 will not let you do wdiat seems unim- 
 portant, why He prescribes rules where 
 He might, as it appears, have safely left 
 you to yourselves. Obey because there 
 is a command, ay, though it be only the 
 faintest expression of the Divinest will; 
 Abraham was to slay Isaac, because 
 God commanded it ; you are to let go 
 the bird, because God commands it. 
 This is the obedience which God ap- 
 proves ; this is the obedience which God 
 will recompense ; obedience, not with- 
 out a reason, bui with no reason except 
 the Divine bidding. Oh ! you have only 
 more and more to show me that it was 
 really unimportant, whether or not the 
 old bird were taken with the young, that 
 there could have been no harm in secur- 
 ing both at once, and you more and 
 more explain why a promise of prosper- 
 ity should be annexed to the command- 
 ment, " Thou shalt not take the dam 
 with the young ; thou shalt in any wise 
 take the young to thee, and let the dam 
 
 There is neither space nor need for 
 many concluding observations. Our sub- 
 ject perhaps looked to you unpro- 
 
 1 mising at the first, and you fancied that 
 1 little material of edification could be 
 found in such a precept as we took for 
 our text. Yet the piecept has furnish- 
 ed us with important practical lessons, 
 lessons against covetousness, against 
 cruelty, against extravagance, against 
 an undue use of the power given us by 
 the affections of others, against the mak- 
 ing little in religion of little command- 
 ments and little duties. What a won- 
 derful book is the Bible, that its every 
 I verse should comprehend so much, sin- 
 gle sayings being as mines of truth, 
 into which if you patiently dig, you find 
 stores of instruction and yet leave more 
 than you find ! 
 
 Be very careful in reading Scripture, 
 whether the Old Testament or the New, 
 that you pass not over parts, as though 
 they might be unimportant. Neither 
 be always content with the primary 
 meaning, and the obvious application. 
 Scripture has a hidden sense as well as 
 an open ; and to them who search for 
 it with prayer, many a beautiful import 
 is disclosed, which would never be sus- 
 pected by the careless or cursory ob- 
 server. A verse is often like the nest 
 on which the parent bird broods : when 
 the parent bird islet go, there are young 
 birds within, each of which has only to 
 be cherished and watched, and it will be 
 " covered with silver wings, and her 
 feathers like gold." 
 
 With other lessons, then, carry away 
 this as to the depth and comprehensive- 
 ness of Scripture. Read the Bible your- 
 selves, and teach your children to read 
 it, as a book that should l>e pondered, 
 not hurried over; a book, so to speak, 
 that may be better read by lines than by 
 chapters. Ay, your children — one's 
 home is as a nest ; Job, when all was 
 smiling around him, reports of himself, 
 "Then I said, I shall die in my nest." 
 It is a nest, a nest exposed to many rude 
 invasions. The parent bird cannot al- 
 ways tarry with the young; but, when 
 dismissed to wing its own flight up- 
 wards, that parent bird may leave its 
 little ones to a better guardianship, and 
 anticipate a day when they too shall 
 soar to brighter regions, and find a rest- 
 ing-place in that tree of life which is 
 Christ Himself. 
 
ANGELS OUR GUARDIANS IN TRIFLES. 
 
 73 
 
 SERMON IX. 
 
 ANGELS OUR GUARDIANS IN TRIFLES. 
 
 " They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone." — Psalm xci. 12. 
 
 The preceding verse is, "For He 
 shall give his angels charge over thee, 
 to keep thee in all thy ways." You 
 will remember that, when Satan had 
 placed our blessed Lord on the pinnacle 
 of the Temple, it was with these two 
 verses that he backed his temptation 
 that He should cast Himself down, and 
 obtain, tb rough a useless and ostentatious 
 miracle, the homage of the crowd as- 
 sembled for worship. But the devil mis- 
 quoted the verses. He left out the 
 words " in all thy ways ; " thus repre- 
 senting the angelic guardianship as hav- 
 ing no limitation ; whereas the promise 
 was evidently meant to apply only 
 whilst there was adherence to the ways 
 of duty — those alone being the ways 
 which could be called "thy ways," 
 whether the passage were applied indi- 
 vidually to the Messiah, or generally to 
 the Church. 
 
 It has been inferred from this appli- 
 cation of the passage by Satan, that the 
 words were prophetic of Christ, and 
 should be interpreted especially, if not 
 exclusively, of a care or protection of 
 which our Savior was the object. This 
 inference, however, can hardly be sus- 
 tained : as the devil could misquote, he 
 could also misapply ; and though it may 
 be that, in its highest significance, this 
 ninety-first Psalm has respect to the 
 Messiah, there is nothing in its tone to 
 give reason why it may not be taken to 
 himself, by every true believer in " the 
 Lord our righteousness." 
 
 We shall assume throughout our dis- 
 course, that the Psalm is the property, 
 so to speak, generally of the Church : it 
 were to rob the members of some of 
 
 their choicest comfort to prove that it 
 belonged exclusively to the Head. If 
 Satan gained nothing by applying the 
 Psalm to Christ, he would have gained 
 much if it were thence to be concluded 
 that it applied to none else. 
 
 But we wish also, as a preliminary 
 matter, to make one or two observations 
 on the translation adopted in the author- 
 ized version of our text. The verb 
 which is used conveys the idea of some- 
 thing very violent, " lest thou dash thy 
 foot against a stone." But it does not 
 seem as if the original required us to 
 suppose any thing very violent. The 
 Hebrew word may be interpreted mere- 
 ly of such contact with a stone as would 
 make you stumble, or put you in danger 
 of falling; whereas dashing your foot 
 implies extreme force, as though you 
 were the subject of some unusual dis- 
 aster or accident. You see that it makes 
 a great difference in the passage, re- 
 garded as a promise to the righteous, 
 which of the two turns we give it : we 
 are always in danger of tripping over a 
 stone ; we are not always in danger of 
 dashing the foot against a stone : so that 
 you may be said to take the promise 
 out of every-day life, and to confine it 
 to extraordinary emergencies, when it 
 is made to imply such violent collision 
 as is not likely to occur in our common 
 walks. 
 
 When the devil, indeed, used the 
 text in the endeavor to persuade Christ 
 to throw Himself headlong from the 
 pinnacle of the Temple, it was literally 
 the dashing the foot against a stone 
 which might have been expected to 
 occur : accordingly the word " dash" is 
 
 10 
 
74 
 
 ANGELS OUR GUARDIANS IN TRIFLES. 
 
 employed with great propi'iety by our 
 translators, in giving the account of our 
 blessed Savior's temptation. Yet it 
 should be observed that even the Greek 
 word, which is thus translated " clash," 
 by no means conveys necessarily the 
 idea of great force or violence. It is, 
 for example, the very same word as is 
 employed by our Lord in the eleventh 
 chapter of St. John's gospel, where He 
 speaks of the security of a man who 
 walks by day, as compared with another 
 who walks by night. " Jesus answered, 
 Are there not twelve hours in the day '\ 
 If any man walk in the day, he stumbleth 
 not, because he seeth the light of this 
 world. But if a man walk in the night, 
 he stumbleth, because there is no light in 
 him." We need not say that something 
 much less than dashing the foot against a 
 stone, will cause a man to trip or stum- 
 ble as he walks in a dark night. He 
 can hardly " dash the foot" unless he be 
 running; and Christ, at least, speaks 
 only of his walking. 
 
 As to the Hebrew itself, our transla- 
 tors have not always made it convey the 
 idea of what is violent. The same word 
 occurs in the third chapter of the book 
 of Proverbs, where you read, " Then 
 shalt thou walk in thy way safely, and 
 thy foot shall not stumble." We seem 
 warranted, then, in saying that nothing 
 more is intended in our text than that 
 tripping or stumbling which may in- 
 deed occur through violent contact with 
 some great impediment, which may also 
 be occasioned by a mere pebble in our 
 path, and when, too, we are proceeding 
 at a leisurely pace. So that, for once, 
 the Prayer Book version is probably the 
 more accurate of the two : for this runs, 
 " They shall bear thee in their hands, 
 that thou hurt not thy foot against a 
 stone." And with this agrees Bishop 
 Horsley's version, " They shall bear 
 thee up in their hands, that thou hit not 
 thy foot against a stone." There is far 
 less of the idea of violence in the hitting, 
 than in the dashing the foot against a 
 stone. 
 
 You will understand, as we proceed 
 with our discourse, why we have been 
 so anxious to divest the passage of the 
 idea of violence. Not that we wish 
 you to suppose that the promise does 
 not include the case of dashing the foot; 
 but we would have you aware that it 
 includes cases where there is nothing of 
 
 this forcible collision, every case in 
 which a man is in danger of stumbling, 
 over however small an obstacle, and by 
 however gentle a movement. 
 
 These are the necessary preliminaries 
 to our discourse, the settling to whom 
 the text may be applied, and the defining 
 the precise import of its expressions. 
 The text, you see, is to be applied 
 generally to the Church, to the people 
 of God, of every age and of every de- 
 gree. The import of its expressions is 
 that conveyed by the version in the 
 Prayer Book, which makes them refer 
 to an ordinary and every-day danger. 
 These preliminaries having been adjust- 
 ed, we have to endeavor to follow out 
 the trains of thought which may be 
 evolved from the assertion, that God 
 gives his angels charge over the right- 
 eous, to bear them up in their hands, 
 lest they hurt their foot against a stone. 
 
 Now the first thing which strikes one, 
 and which we should wish to set vividly 
 before you, is the contrast between the 
 instrumentality employed, and the busi- 
 ness upon which it is used. Let us look 
 a little at what Scripture tells us of an- 
 gels : we may not be able to understand 
 much as to these glorious and powerful 
 beings ; for what is purely spiritual 
 evades our present comprehension ; but 
 we cannot fail to learn that they are 
 creatures far transcending ourselves in 
 mi«*ht and intelligence. They are re- 
 presented as God's ministers, executing 
 the orders of his Providence.! They 
 wait reverently in his presence, to re- 
 ceive the intimations of his will, and 
 then pass, with the speed of lightning, 
 through the universe, that they may ac- 
 complish whatsoever He hath purposed. 
 Of vast number, for "the chariots of 
 God," saitli the Psalmist, " are twenty 
 thousand, even thousands of angels," 
 they are described in holy writ as " crea- 
 tures of wonderful agility and swiftness 
 of motion; therefore called cherubim, 
 that is, winged creatures/' and sera- 
 phim, or flames of lire, because of SO 
 strange a subtlety a-; to " penetrate into 
 any kind of bodies, yea, insinuate them- 
 selves into, and affect, the very inward 
 senses of men*." An angel, in and 
 through a dream of the night, moved 
 Joseph to take the young child and his 
 
 Bishop Bui 
 
ANGELS OUR GUARDIANS IN TRIFLES. 
 
 75 
 
 mother, and return out of Egypt. In 
 like manner, an angel roused Peter from 
 his sleep, led him past the keepers, and 
 delivered him from the dungeon. That 
 tin-; 1 angels are endowed with admira- 
 ble efficacy and power, we learn from 
 the invocation of David, " Bless the 
 Lord, ye his angels, that excel in 
 strength, that do his commandments, 
 hearkening unto the voice of his word ; " 
 and from the fearful history of the de- 
 struction of the hosts of the Assyrian, 
 when, in a single night, and through the 
 single agency of one of these celestial 
 beings, " an hundred fourscore and five 
 thousand " became " all dead corpses." 
 
 We know also of angels, that, " as 
 immortal beings, they have no principle 
 of corruption within themselves ; as un- 
 alterable at least as the pure heaven 
 where they dwell, they can never die or 
 perish but by the hand of Him that first 
 gave them being;"* for, speaking of 
 "the children of the Resmrection," 
 Christ hath said, " Neither can they die 
 any more : for they are equal unto the 
 angels." 
 
 And if these be only scattered and 
 passing intimations of the nature and 
 office of holy angels, they are, at least, 
 sufficient to impress us with a sense of 
 the greatness and gloriousness of* these 
 invisible beings ; a sense which can but 
 be confirmed and increased, when we 
 consider what fallen angels have 
 wrought ; they being, according to the 
 representations of Scripture, the grand 
 antagonists of* the Almighty Himself, 
 and, though doomed to a certain de- 
 struction, yet able, for century after cen- 
 tury, to keep the universe unhinged and 
 disordered, not indeed to frustrate the 
 Divine plans, but to oppose such obsta- 
 cles to their completion as nothing short 
 of Divine power could surmount. What 
 angels are that have kept their first es- 
 tate, we may infer in a measure from 
 what is done in us and around us, by 
 angels that have apostatized from God. 
 
 And when you have duly considered 
 and collected what is made known to 
 us as to angels, it cannot fail but that 
 you will have a very lofty idea of these, 
 the principalities and powers of the in- 
 visible world, and that you will expect 
 to find them occupied with matters that 
 
 Bishop Bull. 
 
 shall seem worthy their stupendous en- 
 dowments. Believing that God will al- 
 ways proportion the means which He 
 employs to the end which He proposes, 
 you would conclude that the highest of 
 created intelligences, such as the angels 
 are to be accounted, must be employed 
 only on what is dazzling and magnifi- 
 cent, on the carrying out the designs of 
 the Almighty in and through the nobler 
 combinations of cause and effect. And 
 it might almost strike you as derogatory 
 to the dignity of angels, that they should 
 be represented in Scripture as " minis- 
 tering spirits" to the heirs of salvation: 
 you might almost imagine it beneath 
 beings of endowment so far surpassing 
 our own, that it should be a part, and, 
 as it would seem, a main part of their 
 office, to attend us on our passage through 
 this troublesome world, and aid our en- 
 deavors to secure eternal life. 
 
 Yet there is nothing more clearly laid 
 down in the Bible, than that angels are 
 thus employed in waiting on the right- 
 eous : and when you come to think of 
 the worth of the human soul, a worth 
 which, if you can measure it by nothing 
 else, you may judge in a degree by the 
 price paid for its redemption, you will 
 probably cease to be surprised, that not 
 only is there "joy in heaven over one 
 sinner that repenteth," but that the ce- 
 lestial hosts marshal themselves for the 
 guardianship of the believer, and use 
 their vast power in promoting his good. 
 
 This, however, is removing the appa- 
 rent contradiction to the lofty nature and 
 sublime endowments of angels, by mag- 
 nifying the employment, by arguing that 
 it cannot be beneath any created intelli- 
 gence to minister unto man for whom 
 God's Son hath died. But if, over and 
 above the general fact of angels being 
 ministering spirits to the heirs of salva- 
 tion, the Bible set forth angels as doing 
 little, inconsiderable, things on behalf 
 of man, interfering where there seems 
 no scope for, or no need of, their vast 
 power, discharging offices of the most 
 trifling description, rendering services 
 which can hardly be observed, and be- 
 tween which and their ability there is 
 the greatest apparent disproportion, 
 then, in all probability, your surprise 
 will return, and you will again think the 
 occupation derogatory to the beings so 
 employed. 
 
 Yet such is the case : the scriptural 
 
76 
 
 ANGELS OUR GUARDIANS IN TRIFLES. 
 
 representation brings clown the minis- 
 tration of angels to what appears trivial 
 and insignificant, in place of confining 
 it to some great crisis in the history of 
 the righteous. And it is this fact which 
 is so forcibly set before us by our text. 
 For what contrast can be greater ? We 
 direct you to the examining whatsoever 
 is told you in the Bible as to the nature 
 and endowments of angels. You cannot 
 come from such an examination but with 
 minds fraught with a persuasion of the 
 greatness and gloriousness of the hea- 
 venly hosts, impressed with a sense of 
 the vastness of their capacities, the splen- 
 dor of their excellence, the majesty of 
 their strength. And then we set you to 
 the considering what occupation can be 
 worthy of creatures thus pre-eminently 
 illustrious ; not allowing you indeed to 
 indulge the excursions of imagination, 
 which might rapidly hurry you into the 
 invisible world, and there place before 
 you the thrones and dominions of those 
 whom God is pleased to honor as his 
 instruments in the government of the 
 universe ; but confining you to the sin- 
 gle truth, that angels have offices to per- 
 form to the Church, and that every right- 
 eous man is a subject of their ministra- 
 tions. But, confined to this single truth, 
 your minds will probably be busied with 
 vast and magnificent enterprize : you 
 know that there is going on, amongst 
 other orders of being', a contest for as- 
 cendancy over man ; and so soon there- 
 fore as told of good angels as minister- 
 ing to the heirs of salvation, you will be 
 likely to think of the war which they 
 wage with Satan and his hosts, and to 
 throw a dignity round their ministration 
 to the meanest of Christ's people, by 
 identifying it with championship in that 
 portentous strife, which, for wise ends, 
 God permits to agitate his empire. 
 
 But what will you say, when Scrip- 
 ture forces you away from this battle 
 between the mighty powers of the in- 
 visible world, and obliges you to con- 
 template angels as engaged with occu- 
 pations which the most vivid fancy ran 
 scarce invest with any thing of splendor, 
 nay, can scarce perhaps rescue from 
 what is insignificant and degrading! 
 Oh, it were almost startling, after hear- 
 ing of the might and majesty of angels, 
 to hear of creatures so lofty as having 
 any ministrations to perform towards 
 ourselves, children of corruption, and 
 
 crushed before the moth. But what 
 shall we say when angels are introduced 
 as bearing up the believer in their hands, 
 not that he may be carried in safety over 
 some vast ocean, not that he may be 
 transported through hostile and mena- 
 cing squadrons, not that, when exposed 
 to some extraordinary danger, he may 
 be conveyed to a place of refuge, but, 
 as bearing him up in their arms, " lest 
 at any time he hurt his foot against a 
 stone?" 
 
 Now we thus bring out the great pe- 
 culiarity, and, at the same time, the great 
 beauty of the text, the contrast between 
 the instrumentality which is employed, 
 and the thing which is done. Angels, 
 the topmost beings in creation, the ra- 
 diant, the magnificent, the powerful — 
 angels are represented as holding up a 
 righteous man, lest some pebble in the 
 path should make him trip, lest he hurt 
 his foot against a stone. But you may 
 be sure that we do not take pains to 
 make you aware of this contrast merely 
 because of its singularity or unexpected- 
 ness : we would not have drawn it out 
 as we have done, and thus endeavored 
 to gain for it a hold upon your minds, 
 had we not believed that important truths 
 were to be gathered from the assign- 
 ment of what looks so trifling, the keep- 
 ing a man from hurting his foot against 
 a stone, to beings of such transcendant 
 glory and strength as the Bible, in every 
 part, attributes unto angels. 
 
 Let us now, therefore, .see whether 
 there is not much to be gathered, both 
 for comfort and instruction, from a con- 
 trast which has only to be pointed out, 
 and it must immediately be felt as every 
 way remarkable. We would not indeed 
 have it thought that the contrast is the 
 solitary one of the kind, nor even per- 
 haps that it is not exceeded in strange- 
 ness by others which may be observed 
 in the Bible. Who that thinks of the 
 greatness and stupendousness of God, 
 and then asks himself what can be a fit- 
 ting employment for God, does not find 
 his mind turning, almost naturally, to 
 stars and systems, whose stately move- 
 ments have to be ordered '( or to em- 
 pires, whose rise and fall seem impor- 
 tant enough for the attention of the uni- 
 versal Governor? or, if to individuals of 
 our race, yet to the more eminent and 
 distinguished, on whom commonwealths 
 depend, and to these only at some spe- 
 
ANGELS OUR GUARDIANS IN TRIFLES. 
 
 77 
 
 cial times, when nothing less than Divine 
 power can suffice for the extricating 
 them from difficulty, or the delivering 
 them from danger ! 
 
 But how different are the representa- 
 tions of Scripture. "God shall wipe 
 away all tears from their eyes." God 
 the doer, the wiping away tears the 
 thino- done — what a contrast ! what ap- 
 parent disproportion ! Then the pray- 
 er of David, '"Put thou my tears into 
 thy bottle " — what a picture does it give 
 of God ! there is something which looks 
 God-like in Isaiah's delineation, He 
 " hath measured the waters in the hol- 
 
 alted, or too busily occupied, to concern 
 
 Himself with ordinary things, is inter- 
 posing and observing, really most of us 
 might pass year after year, proceeding 
 from youth to manhood, and from man- 
 hood to old age, without being able to 
 fix an occasion which might justify our 
 supposing that the crisis had been 
 reached. 
 
 But the scriptural doctrine of Divine 
 providence is altogether different from 
 what such a limitation would srive. The 
 scriptural doctrine makes nothing too 
 little for the care, as nothing too creat 
 for the power, of God. The scriptural 
 
 low of his hand ; " but putting our tears j doctrine sets God before us as mindful 
 
 into his bottle, if we had not found it in 
 the Bible, we might not have dared to 
 imagine it. Thus again, " Thou wilt 
 make all his bed in his sickness," — what 
 an image of Deity ! what an occupation 
 for Deity ! it is hardly possible, with the 
 mind fresh from the contemplation of 
 the unwearied actings of God amid the 
 awful grandeurs of creation, to realize 
 the picture, yea, even to feel as if there 
 were nothing unbecoming or irreverent 
 in the picture, of God's making the bed 
 of one of his sick servants. 
 
 The contrast, then, in our text bet ween 
 an agency so mighty as that of angels, 
 and an act so inconsiderable as that of 
 keeping a man from hurting his foot 
 against a stone, is not the alone speci-' 
 men of the kind, but rather one of a 
 number which may all be presumed to 
 enforce the same truths. And what we 
 would have you observe of such a con- 
 trast, is, that it is the very minuteness, 
 the seeming insignilicance, of the thing 
 done, which gives its chief worth to the 
 promise in our text. Forwe doctrine 
 of a special Providence fcs^valuable in 
 proportion as we extend it to what the 
 world counts trities, to things of every- 
 day occurrence. If, you confine, as many 
 do, the doctrine ofjGod's providence to 
 great events, supposing that it is only 
 on some extraordinary emergence, in 
 some unusual danger or difficulty, that 
 God may be .thought to give attention 
 to an individual or a family, then truly 
 there is but little comfort in the doc- 
 trine ; for life, with most men, is but a 
 round of petty things ; each day is the 
 repetition of the preceding, the same 
 simple duties, the same simple trial 
 
 of the fall of a sparrow, as well as of the 
 decay of an empire ; as numbering the 
 hairs of our heads, as well as the years 
 of our lives. Whether it be through 
 his own immediate agency, or whether 
 He employ the instrumentality of his 
 creatures, God is represented in the 
 Bible as savin <r the most accurate heed, 
 the most patient and observant attention, 
 to the every-day wants of the meanest 
 amongst us ; so that nothing happens, 
 though of the most trival description, to 
 the most insignificant of our race, 
 save in and through the Divine appoint- 
 ment or permission ; and there is not 
 the poor man, whom the rising sun 
 wakens to the going forth to toil for his 
 'daily bread, who may not as distinctly 
 assure himself of his carrying with him 
 to his wearisome task the ever-watchful 
 guardianship of the Almighty Maker of 
 the heavens and the earth, as though he 
 were the leader of armies, or the ruler 
 of nations. 
 
 Blessed be God for a truth such as 
 this. It should go home to every heart. 
 It cannot fail to go home, wheresoever 
 a sense exists of the uncertainty of life, 
 of the exposure to accident, of the wheel 
 within wheel in the most common-place 
 occurrences, of that utter powerlessness 
 of looking into the future, and providing 
 for its contingencies, which attaches 
 alike to the wisest of us and to the weak- 
 est. We are not only permitted, we 
 are commanded, to cast all our care up- 
 on God, and that, too, on the very prin- 
 ciple of his caring for us ; — all our care 
 — oh, that we might learn to keep no 
 care to ourselves, to commit our least 
 anxieties to God, to lean upon his assist- 
 
 and as to a great crisis, which may war- | ance in the performance of our least 
 rant a belief that Deity, too highly ex- | duties, upon his strength in the endur- 
 
78 
 
 ANGELS OUR GUARDIANS IN TRIFLES. 
 
 ance of our least trials, upon his com- 
 forts for the soothing- of our least sor- 
 rows. If we would not exclude God 
 from any thing little, we should find 
 Him with us in everything great. If 
 we thought nothing beneath God, we 
 should find nothing above Him. And 
 the beauty, as we have said, of such pas- 
 sages as our text, lies, not in their en- 
 listing on man's side the most magnifi- 
 cent instrumentality, but in their enlist- 
 ing it for some apparently trivial and 
 inconsiderable purpose. For to tell me 
 of angels, the ministers whom God is 
 pleased to employ for the carrying on 
 his providential operations, as appointed 
 to the attending my path in certain great 
 emergencies or perplexities, there would 
 comparatively be little or nothing of 
 comfort in this ; what I want is an 
 every-day providence. I want a guard- 
 ianship which will go with me to my 
 every-day duties, which will be around 
 me in my every-day trials, which shall 
 attend me in the household, in the street, 
 in my business, in my prayers, in my 
 recreations ; which I may be aware of 
 as watchful where there is no apparent 
 peril, and which I may be assured of as 
 sufficient where there is the worst. 
 
 And such a guardianship is revealed 
 to me, when the hosts of heaven are 
 affirmed to be employed on the protect^ 
 intj me against the most trifling acci- 
 dent. Oh ! it might not do much to- 
 wards cheering and elevating the poor 
 and unknown of the flock, or towards 
 the daily, hourly upholding of such as 
 have higher places to fill, to be told of 
 angels as encamping, as they encamped 
 about Elisha, crowding; the mountain 
 with chariots of fire and horses of fire, 
 when the kino; of Svi'ia sent a great 
 host to take the man of God. It cannot 
 be often, if ever, that there is anything 
 parallel to this peril of the prophet. 
 But it just brings the celestial armies, in 
 all their powerfulness, into the scenes 
 of ordinary life — in other words, it 
 gives to the doctrine of a Divine provi- 
 dence all that extensiveness, that indi- 
 viduality, that applicability to the most 
 inconsiderable events, as well as that 
 adequacy to the most important, which 
 we require, if the doctrine is to be of 
 worth and of efficacy, at all times, to 
 all ranks, and in all cases — to be told 
 that God has commissioned angels, the 
 mightiest of his creatures, to bear us 
 
 up in their hands, not lest we fall over 
 a precipice, come beneath an avalanche, 
 sink in a torrent, but lest at any time 
 we hurt our foot against a stone. 
 
 We are far, however, from being con- 
 tent with this view of the passage. 
 There is indeed something that is ex- 
 quisitely soothing and encouraging in 
 the thought that angels, as ministering 
 spirits, are so mindful of us that they 
 look to the very pebbles which might 
 cause us to trip : — how can we be other 
 than safe if we do but trust in the Lord, 
 when there is such care for our safety 
 that the highest of created beings sedu- 
 lously remove the least impediments, or 
 watch that we surmount them ] But 
 this proceeds on the supposition that 
 the hurting the foot against a stone is a 
 trivial thing. We have spoken of the 
 contrast in the text as though it were 
 matter of surprise, that such an instru- 
 mentality as that of angels should be 
 employed to so insignificant an end as 
 that of preventing the hurting the foot 
 against a stone. But is it an insignifi- 
 cant end ] Is there, after all, any want 
 of keeping between the agency and the 
 act, so that there is even the appearance 
 of angels being unworthily employed, 
 employed on what is beneath them, when 
 engaged in bearing us up, lest at any 
 time we hurt the foot against a stone % 
 
 Nay, the hurting the foot against a 
 stone has often laid the foundation of 
 fatal bodily disease : the injury which 
 seemed too trifling to be worth notice 
 has produced extreme sickness, and 
 ended in death. Is it different in spirit- 
 ual respects, in regard of the soul, to 
 which the promise in our text must be 
 specially applied ? Not a jot. Or, if 
 there be a difference, it is only that the 
 peril to the soul from a slight injury is 
 far greater than that to the body : the 
 worst spiritual diseases might commonly 
 be traced to inconsiderable beginnings. 
 This, my brethren, is a fact worthy 
 your closest attention : we want you 
 now to argue, from angels beai'ing us in 
 their hands, lest we hurt the foot against 
 a stone, that the hurting the foot against 
 a stone is no such trifle as it seems ; 
 and we are sure that, if you consider 
 awhile, you will admit that the import- 
 ance of the thing done every way war- 
 rants that angels should be employed on 
 the doing it. 
 
 Let us fix youi 4 attention on a case of 
 
ANGELS OUR GUARDIANS IN TRIFLES. 
 
 79 
 
 lamentable frequency, that which came 
 under the survey of St. Paul, when he 
 he had to say to members of the Gala- 
 tiau Church, " Ye did run well; who 
 did hinder you that ye should not obey 
 the truth 1 " There is many a man who 
 evinces, for a time, a stedfast attention 
 to reliaion, walking with all care in the 
 path of God's commandments, using 
 appointed means of grace, and avoiding 
 occasions of sin, but who, after a while, 
 in the expressive language of Scripture, 
 leaves his first love, declines from spirit- 
 uality, and is dead, though he may yet 
 have a name to live. But how does it 
 commonly happen that such a man falls 
 away from the struggle for salvation, 
 and mingles with the multitude that 
 walk the broad road 1 Is it ordinarily 
 through some one powerful and undis- 
 guised assault that he is turned from the 
 faith, or over one huge obstacle that he 
 falls to rise not again % Not so. It is al- 
 most invariably through little things that 
 such a man destroys his soul. He fails 
 to take notice of little things, and they 
 accumulate into great. He allows him- 
 self in little things, and they accumulate 
 into great. He allows himself in little 
 things, and thus forms a strong habit. He 
 concedes in little things, and thus gradu- 
 ally gives up much ; he relaxes in little 
 things, and thus in time loosens every 
 bond. Because it is a little thing, he 
 counts it of little moment ; utterly for- 
 getting that millions are made up of units, 
 that immensity is constituted of atoms. 
 Because it is only a stone, a pebble, 
 against which his foot strikes, he makes 
 b>ht of the hindrance ; not caring that 
 he is contracting a habit of stumbling, 
 or not observing, that, whenever he trips, 
 there must be some dimunition in the 
 speed with which he runs the way of 
 God's commandments, and that, how- 
 ever slowly, these dimunitions are cer- 
 tainly bringing him to a stand. 
 
 The astronomer tells us, that because 
 they move in a resisting medium, which, 
 perhaps, in a million of years, destroys 
 the millionth part of their velocity, the 
 heavenly bodies will at length cease from 
 their mighty march. May not, then, the 
 theologian assure us, that little rough- 
 nesses in the way, each retarding us, 
 though in an imperceptible degree, will 
 eventually destroy the onward move- 
 ment, however vigorous and direct it 
 may at one time have seemed 1 Would 
 
 to God that we could persuade you of 
 the peril of little offences. We are not 
 half as much afraid of your hurting the 
 head against a rock, as of your hurting 
 the foot against a stone. There is a sort 
 of continued attrition, resulting from our 
 necessary intercourse with the world, 
 which of itself deadens the movements 
 of the soul ; there is moreover a con- 
 tinued temptation to yield in little points, 
 under the notion of conciliating ; to in- 
 dulge in little things, to forego little 
 strictnesses, to omit little duties ; and 
 all with the idea that what looks so 
 slight cannot be of real moment. And 
 by these littles, thousands, tens of thou- 
 sands, perish. If they do not come ac- 
 tually and openly to a stand, they stum- 
 ble and stumble on, getting more and 
 more careless, nearer and nearer to indif- 
 ference, lowering the Christian stand- 
 ards, suffering religion to be peeled away 
 by inches, persuading themselves that 
 they can spare without injury such in- 
 considerable bits, and not perceiving, 
 that in stripping the bark, they stop the 
 sap. 
 
 On the other hand, men become emi- 
 nent in piety by giving heed to little 
 things ; grateful for the smallest good, 
 watchful over the smallest error, fearful 
 of the smallest sin, careful of the small- 
 est truth. They become great, through 
 counting nothing little but themselves ; 
 great in knowledge, through studying 
 the least sentence, and treasuring the 
 least fragment ; great in faith, through 
 noting God's hand in little incidents, and 
 going to Him in little sorrows ; great in 
 holiness, through avoiding little faults, 
 and being exact in little duties. They 
 thought it no trifle to strike the foot 
 against a stone, and therefore is their 
 step so firm, and their port so erect, 
 however rugged and difficult the path. 
 And are not then angels worthily em- 
 ployed, when employed in bearing up 
 the righteous, "lest at any time they 
 hurt their foot against a stone ] " If 
 they are " ministering spirits," watchful 
 of whatsoever may endanger our salva- 
 tion, think not that it must be to things 
 which seem to us great, that they give 
 special heed ; they know far better than 
 ourselves, though even we may know it 
 well if we will, that it is the little which, 
 neglected, makes apostates ; which, ob- 
 served, makes apostles. 
 
 Then turn henceforward the text to 
 
80 
 
 ANGELS OUR GUARDIANS IN TRIFLES. 
 
 good account, as a warning against com- 
 mitting small sins, a motive to diligence 
 in small duties. Learn, from what an- 
 gels are intent to do for you, what you 
 should be earnest in endeavoring to do 
 for yourselves. Those glorious, though 
 invisible, beings bestow not their vigi- 
 lance and carefulness on what is unwor- 
 thy so lofty an instrumentality. They 
 would not give such earnest heed to 
 pebbles in the way, if it were not that 
 pebbles are what men stumble over till 
 precipitated into perdition, or what they 
 mount upon till elevated into excellence. 
 And if it might make you feel as though 
 it were only at some great crisis, under 
 some extraordinary temptation, or con- 
 fronted by more than common enemies, 
 that you had need for anxiety, effort, 
 and prayer, to be told of angels as at- 
 tending you to ward off the thunderbolt, 
 or chain the tempest, oh, let it teach you 
 how easy a thing it is to lose the soul, 
 from what insignificant beginnings may 
 fatal disease rise, with what unwearied 
 earnestness you should avoid disobey- 
 ing God in trifles, conforming to the 
 world in trifles, relaxing in duty in tri- 
 fles, to be told that angels, creatures of 
 surpassing splendor and might, are com- 
 missioned to bear us up in their hands, 
 not lest at any time we rush into the 
 lion's den, or fall from the mountain top, 
 but " lest at any time we hurt the foot 
 against a stone." 
 
 There is one other remark which 
 ought to be made on our text, though it 
 may perhaps be involved in those which 
 have already been advanced. We have 
 endeavored to show you, from the vast 
 importance in religion of giving heed to 
 little things, that is far enough from be- 
 ing derogatory to the dignity of angels, 
 that they should be employed on keep- 
 ing the righteous from hurting the foot 
 against a stone. You cease to wonder 
 that such instrumentalityshould.be used, 
 if it be a thing of such moment towards 
 which it is directed. But you ought 
 further to observe, that it must be a 
 thing, not only of importance, but of dif- 
 ficulty; otherwise, it would hardly be 
 represented as engaging, or occupying, 
 the ministration of angels. It can be no 
 easy thing, this keeping the foot from 
 being hurt against a stone, seeing that 
 the highest of created beings are com- 
 missioned to effect it. Neither is it. 
 The difficulty in religion is the taking 
 
 up the cross "daily," rather than the 
 taking it up on some set occasion, and 
 under extraordinary circumstances. — 
 The serving God in little things, the car- 
 rying religious principle into all the de- 
 tails of life, the discipline of our tem- 
 pers, the regulation of our speech, the 
 domestic Christianity, the momentary 
 sacrifices, the secret and unobserved 
 self-denials; who, that knows any thing 
 of the difficulties of piety, does not know 
 that there is greater danger of his failing 
 in these than in trials of apparently far 
 higher cost, and harder endurance ; if 
 on no other account, yet because the 
 very absence of what looks important, 
 or arduous, is likely to throw him off 
 his guard, make him careless or confi- 
 dent, and thereby almost insure defect 
 or defeat % 
 
 It is not, comparatively, hard to put 
 the armor on when the trumpet sounds ; 
 but it is, to keep the armor on when 
 there is no alarm of battle. I am not 
 likely to forget my need of Divine grace, 
 and to fail to seek it by diligent prayer, 
 when I am summoned to some unusual 
 duty, or menaced with some unusual 
 danger; but it is only too probable that 
 I may lapse into formality, or forget my 
 own insufficiency, when there is simply 
 what is of every-day occurrence to be 
 either done or endured. He who would 
 not think of climbing a mountain in his 
 own strength, may think of passing over 
 a stone. If he feel that he must be borne 
 up by angels for the one, he may fancy 
 that he needs no such help for the other. 
 And, in religion, things are difficult, not 
 so much from what they are in them- 
 selves, as from the likelihood of their 
 being attempted in a self-sufficient tem- 
 per. That, after all, is the most ardu- 
 ous duty, which involves the most temp- 
 tation to our undertaking it without 
 prayer. At least, the duty in which 
 there is the greatest probability of fail- 
 ure, is that in which there is the greatest 
 probability of our making sure of suc- 
 cess. The chief danger is surely not 
 that, which, being palpable and mena- 
 cing, puts us on our guard, and makes 
 us array our defence ; but rather that, 
 which, beine: subtle and unobtrusive, is 
 likely to be neglected, or met without 
 due preparation. 
 
 Understand, therefore, and remember 
 that there is great difficulty in little 
 things. Not without reason are angels 
 
THE APPEARANCE OF FAILURE. 
 
 81 
 
 represented as ministering to us in little 
 things: supernatural assistance is need- 
 ful for little things ; I do not say, more 
 so than for STreat: but the want of it is 
 less likely to be felt ; and in proportion 
 as the want is less felt, the supply is less 
 likely to be sought ; and the stone will 
 be a worse stumbling-block to the man 
 who is not committing his way unto the 
 Lord, than the rock to another whose 
 every step is with prayer. Remember 
 that daily duties and dangers, the little 
 unevennesses which may ruffle a tem- 
 per, the petty anxieties of common life, 
 
 the exercises of Christian principles in 
 trifles, these are what may be likened 
 to pebbles in the path. But make not 
 light of them because they are as peb- 
 bles. Ask daily grace as you ask daily 
 bread. Attempt not the least thing in 
 your own strength. And let it assure 
 you of the difficulty of what is little, and 
 of your consequent need, in what is lit- 
 tle, of the might of the Lord, that angels, 
 the highest created agencies, have the 
 office assigned them of bearing up the 
 righteous, " lest at any time they hurt 
 their foot against a stone." 
 
 S E R M O N X. 
 
 THE APPEARANCE OF FAILURE. 
 
 ■ Let us therefore fear, lest, a promise being left us of entering into his rest, any of you should seem to come short 
 
 of it" — Hebrews iv. 1. 
 
 It is a great principle under the Chris- 
 tian dispensation, that "none of us liveth 
 to himself, and no man dieth to himself." 
 We are " members one of another," so 
 associated by intimate and indissoluble 
 ties, that we ought never to consider our 
 actions as having a bearing only on our- 
 selves ; we should rather regard them 
 as likely to affect numbers, and sure to 
 affect some, of our fellow men, to affect 
 them in their eternal interests, and not 
 only in their temporal. 
 
 It would seem to be upon this princi- 
 ple that St. Paul exhorts Timothy not 
 to be " partaker of other men's sins." 
 The setting a bad example, to say no- 
 thing of the giving bad advice, makes 
 us " partakers of other men's sins : " 
 other men may take lessons, or be en- 
 couraged in sinning, from observing what 
 we do ; and thus may we virtually sin 
 in other persons, as well as in our own ; 
 yea, sin after death as well as through 
 
 life, leaving: successors behind us whose 
 sins may, in great measure, and with tho* 
 rough justice, be charged upon us no 
 less than on themselves. 
 
 It is upon the same principle that we 
 are required in Scripture to consider 
 what may be expedient, as well as what 
 may be lawful. There may be many 
 things which our Christian liberty per- 
 mits us to do as individuals, but from 
 which Christian expediency requires us 
 to abstain, as members of a Christian 
 society. Thus St. Paul declares that, if 
 meat made his brother to offend, he 
 would eat no meat whilst the world 
 stood, lest he should make his brother 
 to offend. The apostle well understood 
 the liberty procured for him by Christ : 
 he says distinctly, " I know, and am 
 persuaded by the Lord Jesus, that there 
 is nothing unclean of itself." But, 
 whilst certified that " all things Mere 
 lawful for him," he was certified also 
 
 11 
 
82 
 
 THE APPEARANCE OF FAILURE. 
 
 that " all things were not expedient : " 
 he felt himself bound to consult for the 
 good of those weaker brethren, who, 
 not equally enlightened with himself, 
 might have been staggered by his do- 
 ing things which they were not them- 
 selves prepared to do ; and whilst, had 
 he been isolated and alone, he could 
 have partaken, with a good conscience, 
 indifferently of all kinds of food, he 
 deemed it right, out of regard to the 
 scruples of others, to put restraints upon 
 his liberty, and to deny himself rather 
 than place a stumbling-block in the way 
 of the weak. 
 
 We have again the same principle, 
 the principle that membership should 
 influence actions, involved in a precept 
 of St. Paul to the Thessalonians, " Ab- 
 stain from all appearance of evil." 
 There is not necessarily evil, whereso- 
 ever there is the " appearance of evil ; " 
 just as it were wrong to conclude that 
 all which looks good is good. Yet the 
 apostle requires us to abstain from the 
 " appearance of evil," as well as from 
 evil itself. Is this for our own sake 1 is 
 it not also, if not altogether, for the sake 
 of others ? No doubt our own interest 
 is concerned in the abstaining from 
 the " appearance of evil," forasmuch as 
 there is always great clanger in approach- 
 ing the limits of what is lawful : they 
 who go as near sinning as they dare, 
 often go much nearer than they sup- 
 pose : the boundary between a virtue 
 and its opposite vice is often shaded off 
 so gradually, that the nicest discrimina- 
 tion would be puzzled to ascertain where 
 the one terminates and the other begins ; 
 so that, if we venture into the misty re- 
 gion, in place of remaining where there 
 is no obscurity or debate, no wonder if 
 we transgress some commandment 
 which, all the while, we may believe that 
 we keep. Whei'ever there is certainly 
 the " appearance of evil," and it is 
 doubtful whether there is not also evil 
 itself, we seem bound by the laws of 
 Christian prudence, and out of due re- 
 gard to our own spiritual safety, to act 
 on the doubt, and abstain from the ac- 
 tion. The soul ought never to be peril- 
 led on a chance ; and he who loves God 
 in sincerity, will always prefer the de- 
 nying himself where he might perhaps 
 have lawfully indulged, to the indulging 
 himself where he ought perhaps to have 
 denied. 
 
 Hence there is wide scope for the 
 precept of abstaining from " all appear- 
 ance of evil," supposing it to have re- 
 spect to ourselves alone, and our indi- 
 vidual interests. Yet, nevertheless, the 
 chief bearing of the injunction is pro- 
 bably on the interests of those with 
 whom we are associated. Even if we 
 are quite satisfied that there is only the 
 " appearance of evil," and no evil itself, 
 the precept, you see, requires our absti- 
 nence : when we could do the thin or 
 with a good conscience, without the 
 least misgiving- as to its being thorough- 
 ly lawful, notwithstanding any aspect to 
 the contrary, we are still warned back 
 from the action ; and this must be be- 
 cause the action would be likely to give 
 offence to oLhers, who are not so clear- 
 sighted as ourselves, might be unable to 
 distinguish between the " appearance of 
 evil " and evil itself. What has only 
 the appearance to me, may have more 
 than the appearance to another; and I 
 am as much bound to take care that I 
 wound not the conscience of one weaker 
 than myself, as that I do no violence to 
 the dictates of mine own. 
 
 There is something of a fine sound 
 in advice which is often given, " Do 
 what you know to be right, and care not 
 what others may think ;" but, after all, 
 it is not universally, nor perhaps even 
 generally, good and Chi-istian advice. 
 A Christian should consider the opinion 
 of his fellow Christians : a Christian 
 should have regard to the scruples of 
 his fellow Christians : indeed he should 
 do, without hesitation, whatsoever he 
 feels to be right, if it be what God's 
 law positively requires ; all consequen- 
 ces are to be dared, rather than that 
 God be disobeyed ; but it ought not to 
 be every thing to him that his own con- 
 science approves, and nothing that the 
 consciences of others may be grieved. 
 
 And thus does it follow, from various 
 passages of Scripture, that Christians 
 are so bound up the one with the other, 
 and their interests so interwoven, that 
 each should consider himself as acting 
 for a multitude, and the individual al- 
 ways calculate with regard to the 
 Church. Ask then yourselves, whether, 
 as Christians, you are striving to act on 
 the maxim of the apostle, " Look not 
 every man on his own things, but every 
 man also on the things of others." 
 
 Be not engrossed with securing your 
 
THE APPEARANCE OF FAILURE. 
 
 83 
 
 own salvation ; see to it that ye be not, 
 at the same time, endangering the sal- 
 vation of others. For be ye well assur- 
 ed that true piety is an enlarged and en- 
 larging thing- : it holds no terms with sel- 
 fishness, but always deals with it as with 
 an antagonist, who must destroy or be 
 destroyed. If it be one great test of the 
 genuineness of religion, Do I have re- 
 spect to the good of my soul in the va- 
 rious plans and arrangements of life 1 
 depend upon it that it is not the less an 
 accurate criterion by which to try the 
 spiritual state, Do I think of what will 
 do good to the souls of others 'I do I 
 aim at so living that others may be in- 
 fluenced to the obeying the Gospel % 
 
 Now you will presently see why we 
 have introduced our discourse with 
 these remarks on Christians as being 
 members one of another, and therefore 
 bound to have respect, in all their ac- 
 tions, to the possible effects on their fel- 
 low Christians as well as on themselves. 
 In the chapter preceding that which is 
 opened by our text, St. Paul had been 
 speaking of those Israelites, who though 
 delivered by Moses from Egypt, never 
 reached the promised land, but perished, 
 through unbelief, in the wilderness. 
 From this the apostle took occasion to 
 w.arn Christians, that they might have 
 made some progi'ess towards Heaven, 
 and still be in danger of missing its 
 possession. They were to regard the 
 case of the Israelites as but too possible 
 an illustration of what might be their 
 own : delivered from bondage, brought 
 into the right way, and' privileged with 
 heavenly guidance, they might yet, 
 through yielding to unbelief, come short 
 of that glorious land whereof the Gos- 
 pel had conveyed to them the promise. 
 
 And if this had been the whole tenor 
 of our text, it would have afforded but 
 little place for commentary, though much 
 for private and personal meditation. 
 Had the apostle exhorted Christians to 
 fear lest any of them should come short 
 of the promised rest, the exhortation, 
 however valuable and important, would 
 hardly have required the being illustra- 
 ted or explained ; the preacher's only 
 business would have been the impress- 
 ing it in its simplicity and power on his 
 hearers, and the endeavoring to prevail 
 on them to examine the grounds on 
 which they might be hoping for admis- 
 sion into heaven. But you will observe 
 
 that St. Paul does not speak of " coming 
 short," but of " seeming to come short," 
 " lest any of you should seem to come 
 short of it." We lay the emphasis on 
 the word " seem," thinking that the 
 stress of the passage is here; just as, 
 in the precept on which we before 
 spoke, "Abstain from all appearance of 
 evil," the warning is against that which 
 "seems" to be evil; it necessarily in- 
 cludes whatsoever both is, and appears 
 to be, evil, but it includes also much 
 which only appears to be, without actu- 
 ally being. 
 
 In like manner, the seeming to come 
 short, and the actually coming short, are 
 not necessarily the same ; a man may 
 have the appearance of failure, and 
 nevertheless be successful. He " seems 
 to come short " of the promised rest, 
 who, in the judgment of his fellow-men, 
 is deficient in those outward evidences 
 by which they are wont to try the genu- 
 ineness of religion. But surely, all the 
 while, he may not actually " come 
 short : " human judgment is fallible, 
 and can in no case be guided by inspect- 
 ing the heart, which alone can funiish 
 grounds for certain decision ; and, doubt- 
 less, many may be found in heaven at 
 last, of whose entrance thither survivors 
 could entertain nothing more than a 
 charitable hope. And is it not enough, 
 if we do not " come short ] " why should 
 we further concern ourselves as to the 
 not " seeming to come short 1 " We 
 might answer, as we did in regard of 
 the " appearance of evil," that it is a 
 dangerous thing to approach danger. 
 He who " seems to come short " must 
 almost necessarily be in some peril of 
 failure ; and where heaven is at stake, 
 no wise man, if he could help it, would 
 run the least risk. Besides, it can hard- 
 ly be that he, who seems to others to 
 come short, should possess decisive and 
 scriptural evidences of his acceptance 
 with God. He may indeed know him- 
 self better than others know him ; nei- 
 ther is he at all bound to accept their 
 judgment as determining his state ; but 
 still, as others decide from external evi- 
 dence, and such evidence is of more 
 weight than any internal persuasion, it 
 is difficult to see how he, who seems to 
 others to come short, as not letting his 
 light shine brightly before men, can have 
 a well-founded hope that he is not coming 
 short, but is daily pressing " towards 
 
84 
 
 THE APPEARANCE OF FAILURE. 
 
 the mark for the prize of his high call- 
 in<r in Christ." And if it he a necessa- 
 ry result of our seeming to others to 
 come short, that we have but feeble and 
 darkened evidences of our being made 
 meet for the kingdom, indeed there is 
 abundant cause for the fear expressed 
 in the text : he who can be content to 
 remain in doubt when he might have 
 strong hojie, almost shows, by not long- 
 in<y and striving for clearer proof, that 
 what he already has is deceitful and 
 vain. 
 
 But whilst there may thus be many 
 reasons given why we should fear the 
 seeming to come short, even were our 
 personal well-being alone to be consid- 
 ered, the full force of the text, as with 
 that which enjoins abstinence from the 
 appearance of evil, is only to be brought 
 out through reference to our being 
 members the one of the other. We shall, 
 therefore, take the passage under this 
 point of view through the remainder of 
 our discourse. In other woi'ds, we will 
 examine what there is, in an appearance 
 of failure, to do injury to the cause of 
 Christianity, and therefore to justify the 
 apostle in so emphatically calling upon 
 you to fear, " lest, a promise being left 
 us of entering into his rest, any of you 
 should seem to come short of it. " 
 
 Now as there are undoubtedly many 
 ways in which we may actually come 
 short, so must there be many in which 
 we may apparently come short : who 
 can tell up the methods in which the 
 soul may be lost 1 neither can any one 
 enumerate those in which it may seem 
 to be lost. But we may fix on certain 
 of the more prominent appearances of 
 failure, or, rather, on certain of the more 
 prominent reasons which may give others 
 the impression that a Christian comes 
 short ; and when these shall have been 
 fairly discussed and followed out, the 
 general subject under review will have 
 been so far made clear, that every one 
 may apprehend any particular case. 
 
 And it must, we think, commend it- 
 self to you in the first place, that none 
 will more " seem to come short," than 
 those whose practice is in any way in- 
 consistent with their profession, so that 
 lookers-on can decide that their conduct 
 is not strictly accordant with the princi- 
 ples by which they declare themselves 
 actuated. This is the first great case on 
 which we would fasten. We are far 
 
 from presuming to determine the amount 
 of inconsistency which might be taken 
 in proof of an actual coming short of the 
 promised inheritance ; for we remem- 
 ber, that, whilst perfection is that at 
 which the Christian is to aim, it is that 
 which, in this life, he may not hope to 
 reach ; and compassed as he is, and 
 must be, with infirmity, he will often be 
 betrayed into sin, notwithstanding that 
 he hates it, and that his heart, on the 
 whole, is right with his God. 
 
 But we are not now concerned with 
 the actual, but only with the apparent 
 coming short ; and it must be clear that 
 every inconsistency helps to the making 
 us " seem to come short," however, 
 through the being repented of and re- 
 paired through the grace of God, it may 
 leave undamaged our spiritual estate. 
 He who professes to " walk in the light 
 as God is in the light," may occasionally 
 wander into dark paths, and yet be mer- 
 cifully restored ; but it can hardly fail 
 but that the impression produced on 
 observers, especially on men of the 
 Avorld, will be one as to the weakness 
 of his principles, or a want of power in 
 that religion which professes itself ade- 
 quate to the renewing the world. And 
 who will pretend to compute the amount 
 of damage done to the cause of vital 
 Christianity by the inconsistencies of 
 those who profess themselves subjected 
 to its laws, and animated by its hopes ? 
 The heathen has adhered to his idols, 
 because he can point to many who would 
 invite him to a purer worship, but ex- 
 hibit not a purer morality. The nominal 
 Chz-istian has been strengthened in his 
 dislike and ridicule of piety of the heart, 
 through observing that those supposed 
 to possess it, could be fretful, malicious, 
 covetous, or envious ; to say nothing of 
 more flagrant departures from conform- 
 ity to the revealed will of God. It was, 
 as you will remember, on such account as 
 this, that, even when God extended for- 
 giveness to David, who had grievously 
 sinned, He inflicted also severe punish- 
 ment, — "because by this deed thou hast 
 given great occasion to the enemies of 
 the Lord to blaspheme, the child also 
 that is born unto thee shall surely die." 
 David did not actually " come short" of 
 the promised inheritance, through sin- 
 ning so heinously against the Lord ; but 
 David " seemed to come short ; " he 
 would have come short, had not genuine 
 
THE APPEARANCE OF FAILURE. 
 
 85 
 
 repentance followed on grievous trans- 
 gression ; but there was, at least, all the 
 appearance of thorough apostasy : and 
 this appearance gave such occasion of 
 blasphemy, ilr.it, in vindication of the 
 righteousness of his government, God 
 had to inflict judgment at the same time 
 that lie "ranted pardon. 
 
 But if flagrant acts, like those of Da- 
 vid, were thus fruitful sources of blas- 
 phemy to the enemies of the Lord, no 
 doubt acts of lesser criminality, the 
 manifestations of undisciplined tempers, 
 the utterances of unguarded speech, the 
 inordinate indulgences of appetite, the 
 adherences of the affections to perish- 
 able things, all work their measure of 
 effect upon men who are on the watch 
 for some charge against the Gospel, or 
 for some excuse for resisting its claims ; 
 and also upon others who may be halt- 
 ing " between two opinions, " at a loss 
 whether to decide for God, or for the 
 world. It is the place of a Christian to 
 be as a city set on a hill ; but " a city 
 that is set on a hill cannot be hid ; " and 
 he may be quite sure, from the very 
 position into which a religious profes- 
 sion brings him, that his every depart- 
 ure from the high standards of the Gos- 
 pel, his every failure in the rigid sub- 
 jection of himself to the law of God, as 
 expanded and expounded by Christ, 
 will serve in some way to do injury to 
 others as well as to himself, producing 
 an impression unfavorable to the worth 
 and power of piety, whether in such as 
 are glad to bring godliness into contempt, 
 or in others who seek to be assured 
 that Christianity can make good its pro- 
 fessions and promises. 
 
 How vast, then, the importance of 
 not even " seeming to come short ! " 
 Woo will think it enough if he do not 
 actually come short, and pass by the ap- 
 pearance as a thing of no moment 1 
 What, when he " seems to come short," 
 in whose life are inconsistencies, con- 
 tradictions, failures in obedience, and 
 the like, which, if truly repented of, 
 will not indeed prevent the final en- 
 trance into Heaven, but which are al- 
 most sure to be impediments in the way 
 of many others, if not instrumental to 
 their utter exclusion 1 Is this nothing? 
 is this little '{ nothing, to bring reproach 
 on the Gospel 1 little, to excite preju- 
 dice which may keep men from Christ 1 
 Oh, if you do but think that errors and 
 
 deviations, of which you are, through 
 Divine grace, enabled yourselves to 
 escape the everlasting penalties, may 
 confirm opponents in their oppositions, 
 and wanderers in their wanderings ; 
 and that thus, what is in you but the ap- 
 pearance of missing heaven, may help 
 to the actually bringing others to eternal 
 perdition ; it cannot be that bencefor- 
 wards you will care only for what is, and 
 nothing for what may seem to be, your 
 state; you will enter fully and practically 
 into the fear expressed by the Apostle, 
 " lest, a promise being left us of entering 
 into his rest, any of you should seem 
 to come short of it." 
 
 But there is another, if a less obvious 
 mode of " seeming to come short." It 
 should be observed, that, though the 
 Apostle, when speaking of rest, must be 
 considered as referring mainly to that 
 rest which is future, there is a degree, 
 or kind, of present rest which is attain- 
 able by the Christain, and which is both 
 the type and foretaste of that which is 
 to come. Thus St. Paul, in a verse 
 which follows almost immediately on 
 our text, says of Christians, " We which 
 have believed do enter into rest ; " and 
 afterwards, " He that is entered into 
 his rest, he also hath ceased from his 
 own works, as God did from his," evi- 
 dently making the entering into rest, a 
 present thing, as well as a future. And 
 undoubtedly, if he lived up to his pri- 
 vileges, there is a present rest which 
 the Christian might enjoy. Our blessed 
 Savior bequeathed peace, his own peace, 
 as a legacy to his Church ; and what 
 Christ entailed on us, may surely be en- 
 joyed by us. Without dwelling on what 
 is popularly called the doctrine of per- 
 sonal election, and which, even if we 
 were to allow it to be a thoi-oughly 
 Scriptural doctrine, can give well-found- 
 ed comfort to no one, except so far as 
 he is usin<? " all diligence to make his 
 calling and election sure," we may cer- 
 tainly say that he who is meekly endea- 
 voring to obey God's will, and humbly 
 relying on the merit and mediation of 
 Christ, ought to be so hopeful of final 
 salvation as to present a happy deport- 
 ment, in the midst even of many trials, 
 and in spite even of many enemies. 
 That fears will sometimes harass, and 
 doubts cloud his mind, this is perhaps 
 unavoidable ; many are constitutionally 
 timid and mistrustful : and it is not as 
 
86 
 
 THE APPEARANCE OF FAILURE. 
 
 much observed as it ought to be, that 
 conversion does not profess to alter the 
 nervous system, and that this system 
 will produce symptoms which are often 
 anxiously submitted to the spiritual ad- 
 viser, when they really come more pro- 
 perly within the province of the medical. 
 
 But when every just allowance has 
 been made for constitution and circum- 
 stances, it may safely be affirmed that 
 the general deportment of the believer 
 should be that of serenity and hopeful- 
 ness, the deportment of one who has 
 already entered into rest, though not 
 that perfect rest which yet " remaineth 
 for the people of God." The reli- 
 gion of the Bible is a cheerful, happy- 
 making religion : the very word 
 " Gospel " signifies "glad tidings; " and 
 he who has received good news into his 
 heart, may justly be expected to exhibit 
 in his demeanor, if not much of the rap- 
 ture of joy, yet something of the quiet- 
 ness of peace. But it is in this that 
 righteous persons are often grievously 
 deficient; nay, they perhaps even think 
 that it becomes them to go always 
 mourning, and that, sinful as they are, 
 it were worse than presumption in them 
 ever to be cheerful. Hence, in place of 
 struggling with doubts, and endeavoring 
 to extinguish or eject them, they may 
 be said actually to encourage them, as 
 if they befitted their state, "and either 
 betokened, or cherished, humility. A 
 great mistake this. There is commonly 
 more of pride than of humility in doubts ; 
 he who is always doubting is generally 
 searching in himself for some ground or 
 reason of assurance ; whereas, true, 
 genuine humility, looks wholly out of 
 self, not as forgetting the corruption 
 which is there, but as fastening on the 
 sufficiency which is in Christ. 
 
 But, without dissecting more narrow- 
 ly the character of the always doubting 
 Christian, we cannot hesitate to say of 
 him, that he is one of those who " seem 
 to come short." If a present, as well as 
 a future rest, be promised to the righ- 
 teous — and what else can be denoted by 
 such words as these, " Thou wilt keep 
 him in perfect peace whose mind is 
 stayed on thee ? " — certainly he, at least, 
 " seems to come short " of that rest, 
 who is continually the prey of fear and 
 disquietude, who has never any thing to 
 express but apprehensions as to his de- 
 ceiving himself, or who wears always 
 
 the appearance of one ill at ease in re- 
 gard of his spiritual interests. And 
 without denying that there may be tho- 
 rough safety where there is all this 
 seeming insecurity, we are bound to de- 
 clare, that, so far as others are concern- 
 ed, the Christian, who thus " seems to 
 come short," is the cause of great injury. 
 He presents religion under a false as- 
 pect : like one of the spies of old, he 
 brings the promised land into disrepute, 
 and discourages those whose business it 
 is to go up and possess it. The world 
 is disposed enough to give a morose and 
 gloomy character to godliness, represent- 
 ing it as the opponent of all cheerful- 
 ness, and as requiring that we surrender 
 whatsoever can minister to happiness. 
 We tell the world, in reply, that it does 
 thus but libel our faith ; that there is 
 nothing deserving the name of happi- 
 ness, save with those who have devoted 
 themselves to the service of Christ ; and 
 we challenge its attractions and entice- 
 ments to put themselves, if they can, 
 even into a present competition with 
 that " peace of God which passeth all 
 understanding." 
 
 But what are we to say to the world, 
 when its appeal lies from assertions to 
 facts 1 when it can point out religious 
 persons as always melancholy and de- 
 sponding '] Why quote to us, the world 
 will urge, the exquisitely beautiful words, 
 " Come unto me, ye that are weary and 
 heavy laden, and 1 will give you rest," 
 when so many, who are looking only to 
 Jesus for rest, must, at least, be admitted 
 to " seem to come short of it 1 " What 
 indeed is to be said to the world ] God 
 forbid that we should bear hardly on 
 those who have already much to bear, in 
 the burden of their own doubts, mis- 
 givings, and fears. But I question 
 whether Christians sufficiently consider 
 the injury which they may do to the 
 cause of the Savior, by not striving to 
 "rejoice in the Lord," and to display in 
 their deportment the happy-malting 
 power of vital religion. I question 
 whether they sufficiently feel the duty 
 of wrestling with those doubts which 
 give them all the air of dispirited and 
 disconsolate men — the duty, not merely, 
 and not even chiefly, because doubts 
 rob them of comforts which God gra- 
 ciously intended to be theirs ; but be- 
 cause doubts, by thus throwing over 
 them an aspect of sadness and gloom, 
 
THE APPEARANCE OF FAILURE. 
 
 87 
 
 misrepresent piety, either causing or 
 strengthening the impression that God 
 is a hard task-master, and that, in keep- 
 ing of his commandments, there is little 
 or nothing of present reward. 
 
 It could hardly fail to be a new and 
 strong motive with religious persons to 
 the cultivating cheerfulness of deport- 
 ment, and therefore to the withstanding 
 those disheartening fears, which they 
 perhaps think even wholesome, as keep- 
 ing them humble — just as though a firm 
 confidence of acceptance through the 
 cross of the Redeemer were not itself 
 the great foe of pride — if they carefully 
 remembered that others will judge reli- 
 gion by its apparent effects, and that, if 
 they see it produce only sadness, they 
 will be likely to shun it as opposed to 
 all joy. A gloomy Christian may not 
 be always always able to he!]) his gloom ; 
 but he should lament it, and strive with 
 it : for what will a generous leader say 
 of a soldier, who commissioned to enlist 
 others under the same banner with him- 
 self, makes his appearance in the world 
 as aterrified and half-famished prisoner? 
 Oh no ! it is not enough that ye do not 
 come short. It is not enough that, 
 through darkness and doubt, ye struggle 
 at last into the kingdom of heaven. Ye 
 should aim at something higher than 
 this. Ye should aim at adorning the 
 doctrine of the Savior, setting it off to 
 the best advantage, recommending it to 
 a world which is eager in the pursuit after 
 happiness, as that which makes good the 
 saying, " Her ways are ways of pleasant- 
 ness, and all her paths are peace." And, I 
 therefore, in place of always harboring : 
 and indulging other fears, fears which, 
 as originating in a sense of unworthi- 
 ness, should be met with the truth that j 
 it was for the unworthy Jesus died, 
 let the fear expressed in our text 
 be henceforwards constant in opera- 
 tion, even the fear " lest, a promise 
 being left us of entering into his 
 rest, any of you should seem to come 
 short of it." 
 
 But now, having thus illustrated the 
 text from inconsistency of conduct, and 
 from the harboring of doubts, either of 
 which will cause a Christian to " seem 
 to come short," let us take one other 
 case, one which is not perhaps indeed 
 as much under our own power, but one 
 against which we may be always en- 
 
 The great busi- 
 
 deavoring to provide. 
 
 ness of life, as we all confess, is prepa- 
 ration for death. And a Christian's 
 hope, a Christian's desire, should be that 
 he may be enabled to meet death trium- 
 phantly, putting his foot on the neck of 
 the last enemy, and proving that Christ 
 hath despoiled him of his sting. It 
 should not content him that he may pass 
 in safety through the dark valley, though 
 with little of that firm sense of victory 
 which discovers itself in the exultino- 
 tone, or the burning vision. This in- 
 deed is much — oh ! that we might be- 
 heve that none, now present, would 
 have less than this. But, in having only 
 this, a Christian may " seem to come 
 short." And there is often a mighty 
 discouragement from the death-beds of 
 the righteous, when, as the darkness 
 thickens, and the strength declines, 
 there is apparently but little consolation 
 from the prospect of eternity. Even 
 as, on the other hand, when a righteous 
 man is enabled to meet death exulting- 
 ly, as though he had but to step into the 
 car of fire, and be wafted almost visibly 
 to the heavenly city, there is diffused 
 over a neighborhood a sort of animating 
 influence ; the tidings of the victory 
 spread rapidly from house to house : 
 the boldness of infidelity quails before 
 them ; meek piety takes new courage, 
 and attempts new toils. 
 
 And it ought not, therefore, to satisfy 
 us that we may so die as not to come 
 short of heaven : we ought to labor that 
 we may so die as not even to " seem to 
 come short of it." It is doubly dying, 
 if, in dying, we work an injury to our 
 brethren ; it is scarcely dying, if we 
 strengthen them for their departure out 
 of life. This is, in its measure, the 
 doing what was done by the Redeemer 
 Himself, who, " through death, destroy- 
 ed him that had the power of death :" 
 the believer, as he enters the grave, 
 deals a blow at the tyrant, which ren- 
 ders him less terrible to those who have 
 yet to meet him in the final encounter. 
 And by continued preparation for death, 
 by accustoming ourselves to the antici- 
 pation of death, by the striying always so 
 to live that death may not take us by 
 surprise, but that, having the loins girt, 
 the lamps trimmed, and the lights burn- 
 ing, we may be as men expecting the 
 bridegroom, we may indeed hope to be 
 so ready, through God's help, for the act 
 of departure, that our passage through 
 
88 
 
 THE APPEARANCE OF FAILURE. 
 
 tlie valley shall lie rather with the tread 
 of the conqueroi*, than with the painful 
 step of the timid pilgrim. 
 
 It is true that we have not power 
 Over the circumstances of our death ; 
 that we cannot insure ourselves a tri- 
 umphant death ; and that God, for wise 
 ends, may often be pleased, in removing 
 his people from earth, to withhold from 
 them those glimpses of things within 
 the vail, which, whenever vouchsafed, 
 seem to light up a sick room, as though 
 angels, with their bright wings, were 
 visibly present. But perhaps it may be 
 generally true, that they who have made 
 it their aim that they might not "seem 
 to come short " during life, are not per- 
 mitted to " seem to come short " in 
 death. He who lives most consistently 
 is perhaps commonly enabled to die 
 most triumphantly. He who is most 
 earnest in scattering those doubts which 
 are dishonoring to the Savior, harassing 
 to himself, and injurious to the Church, 
 will find the termination of his earthly 
 path haunted with fewest of those dark 
 and spectral things, which agitate a be- 
 liever, even though he feel that his Re- 
 deemer is near. 
 
 See, then, a new motive to the striving 
 go to live that you may not " seem to come 
 short," whether of the practice or the 
 privilege of true followers of Christ. It 
 is thus that you may have reason to 
 hope that you shall not " seem to come 
 short" when you die. And again we 
 say, think not little of this. I have be- 
 fore me two pictures ; come and gaze, 
 and then think it little if you can. I 
 gee a Christian stretched on his death- 
 bed, patient indeed, and hearkening 
 eagerly to the words of those who stand 
 round, and who are speaking to him of 
 that " Lamb of God which taketh away 
 the sin of the world." But there is 
 
 little of hopefulness in his look, and as 
 little in his language. " O my friends " 
 — these are his struggling utterances — 
 " it is an awful thing to die. I trust 
 that the Savior in whom I have believed 
 will not desert me in this sad extremity ; 
 but there is much of darkness on my 
 mind, now that I most need the cheer- 
 inor lio-ht." The weeping relatives are 
 not dismayed by these words ; for they 
 have reason to be assured of the piety 
 of the dying man ; but they feel more 
 and more the tremendousness of death, 
 and, in their broken whimperings one to 
 another, they say, Alas for ourselves, 
 when even this our brother " seems Jo 
 come short." 
 
 But 1 see another Christian meeting 
 death. His look is that of one who al- 
 ready has his hand on an incorruptible 
 crown. His voice, weakened indeed by 
 approaching dissolution, gives forth the 
 tones of confidence and exultation. 
 " Sorrow not for me, my beloved ones. 
 With Stephen, I see Jesu« at the right 
 hand of God. With Job, ' I know that 
 my Redeemeth liveth.' I am safe in 
 the good Shepherd's keeping : yet an- 
 other struscrle, and I am with Him for 
 ever in the rich pastures above." 
 
 Ah ! how do these words encourage 
 survivors. They go forth like men 
 armed anew for duty and trial. They 
 tell the scene to others. The whole 
 Church rallies round the grave, and 
 takes fresh courage. The dead man, 
 who thus visibly conquered, is like 
 Elisha in the sepulchre — to touch his 
 bones is to gain new life. Ah ! look 
 upon this ; and will you not hencefor- 
 wards live as those who fear, " lest, a 
 promise being left us of entering into 
 his rest, any of you," at the last, " should 
 seem to come short of it % " 
 
SIMON THE CYRENIAN. 
 
 80 
 
 SERMON XI. 
 
 SIMON THE CYRENIAN. 
 
 And as they came out, they found a man of Cyrene, Simon by name: him they compelled to bear his cross." — 
 
 Matthew xxvii. 32. 
 
 This fact is also recorded, and almost 
 in the same terms, by St. Mark and St. 
 Luke; and we may think that three 
 evangelists would scarcely have all in- 
 serted it in their narratives, had it nor 
 deserved more attention than it seems 
 ordinarily to receive. The circumstance 
 is not noticed by St. John, whose object 
 was rather to supply deficiencies in for- 
 mer gospels, than to repeat their state- 
 ments. But St. John enables us better 
 to understand the laying the cross upon 
 Simon : for we could not determine from 
 the three first evangelists whether or 
 not it had been first laid upon Christ. 
 This is an important point, as you will 
 afterwards see : we could gather little 
 or nothing from the fact that Simon was 
 made to carry the cross, if we were not 
 sure that it was first carried by Christ. 
 But this is not affirmed either by St. 
 Matthew, St. Mark, or St. Luke. These 
 evangelists merely mention that the sol- 
 diers, as they led away Jesus to crucify 
 Him, met with Simon the Cyrenian, 
 and compelled him to be the cross-bear- 
 er : but whatever we might have con- 
 jectured, or whatever we might have 
 concluded from the usual practice of the 
 Romans, we could not have been confi- 
 dent from this, that Christ had borne his 
 cross till it was thus laid upon another. 
 
 But St. John, omitting all notice of 
 Simon, expressly says of our Lord, " He, 
 bearing his cross, went forth into a place, 
 cilled the place of a skull." This is a 
 beautiful instance of the nicety witli 
 which the fourth evangelist may be said 
 to have observed what was wanting in 
 the other three : he fills up, so to speak, 
 a crevice, or puts in a link, so as to com- 
 
 plete a narrative, or unite its scattered 
 parts. 
 
 Combining the accounts of the sever- 
 al historians, we now know that when 
 our Lord was given up by Pilate to the 
 will of his enemies, the soldiers, as was 
 the ordinary practice in regard of those 
 sentenced to crucifixion, laid upon Him 
 the cross whereon He was to die. After 
 He had carried it a certain distance, 
 the soldiers, for one reason or another, 
 took it from Him, and placed it on a 
 Cyrenian whom they happened to meet ; 
 and this Simon bore it to Calvary. We 
 have no certain information as to who 
 Simon was, whether or not a disciple 
 of Christ. He is mentioned by St. Mark 
 as "the father of Alexander and Rufus :" 
 but though this would seem to indicate 
 that he and his family were well known 
 at the time, it does not help us to de- 
 termine particulars. The probability 
 would seem to be, that he was at least 
 disposed to favor Christ, and that this 
 his disposition was matter of notoriety — 
 nothing is more likely than that it was 
 on account of his attachment to Jesus, 
 and for the sake therefore of exposing 
 him to public ridicule, that the .soldiers 
 compelled him to carry the cross. 
 
 But allowing the probability that he 
 was known to favor the cause of Christ, 
 we have no means of ascertaining whe- 
 ther he were a Jew or a Gentile : for 
 ecclesiastical history furnishes nothing 
 respecting him beyond what is furnish- 
 ed by the evangelists. In the book in- 
 deed of the Acts of the Apostles, where 
 the prophets and teachers in the Church 
 of Antioch are enumerated, we have 
 mention of " Simeon that was called 
 
 12 
 
90 
 
 SIMON THE CYRENIAN. 
 
 Niger; " and many have imagined that 
 this might be "Simon the Cyrenian " — 
 the surname Niger, or black, being 
 thought to accord with the birthplace ; 
 for Cyrene was a city and province of 
 Libya in Africa. If this identity were 
 determined, there would be no doubt as 
 to Simon's having been a Jew : but it 
 is merely the resemblance in name which 
 has led to the supposition ; and even 
 this resemblance is insufficient to sup- 
 port any theory ; for the same Evange- 
 list speaks of Simon the Cyrenian, and 
 of Simeon, called Niger. We must 
 therefore be content to remain ignorant 
 in regard of the individual who boi-e the 
 cross of Christ ; and we may find that 
 this ignorance will not interfere with the 
 lessons to be drawn from the occurrence. 
 
 The occurrence itself, as we have al- 
 ready intimated, is one which may be 
 easily overlooked, but which perhaps 
 only requires to be carefully considered 
 in order to the bein^ found full of in- 
 terest and instruction. Let us then join 
 ourselves to the multitude who are 
 thronging round Jesus, as, with slow 
 and fainting steps, He toils towards 
 Calvary. There is a moment's pause : 
 an individual is met, coming out of the 
 country : the attendant soldiers seize 
 him, and compel him to bear the cross 
 which the Redeemer had hitherto car- 
 ried. This is the incident which we are 
 to ponder : we will go no further with 
 the infuriated crowd ; but, sitting down, 
 will examine what truths and lessons 
 may be derived from what has just been 
 observed, namely, that " as they came 
 out, they found a man of Cyrene, Simon 
 by name : him they compelled to bear 
 his cross." 
 
 Now it is very interesting to remark 
 how the accomplishment of ancient pro- 
 phecy seems often to have hung upon a 
 thread, so that the least thing, a thought 
 or a word, might have sufficed to pre- 
 vent its occurrence. There are many 
 predictions in reference to Christ, which 
 could only be fulfilled by his enemies, 
 and of which we might have expected 
 that these enemies, anxious to disprove 
 his claims, would have been too shrewd 
 to help the accomplishment. The mar- 
 vel is, that these enemies were not more 
 on the alert ; that they should have done, 
 or allowed things which, on a moment's 
 consideration, they might have seen to 
 be evidences that Jesus was Messiah. 
 
 One would have expected that, with 
 prophecies in their hands which they 
 themselves applied to the Christ, they 
 would have taken pains to prevent, so 
 far as possible, their apparent fulfilment 
 in Jesus of Nazareth. And yet, as if 
 judicially blinded, they themselves 
 brought about the fulfilment, and that, 
 too, in cases where prevention seemed 
 quite in their power. Did they not 
 know what Zechariah had predicted in 
 reference to the price at which Christ 
 would be sold ] and yet they sold Jesus 
 for the very sum ; a thought only being 
 wanting, and one piece of money might 
 have been added or taken off, and thus 
 a noted prophecy have failed of accom- 
 plishment in Him whom they crucified. 
 Thus again, how easy it would have 
 been — and for men who were seeking to 
 disprove the pretensions of Jesus, how 
 natural — to take care that vinegar and 
 gall should not be given Him on the 
 cross, and that the soldiers should not 
 part his garments amongst them, nor 
 cast lots upon his vesture. There would 
 have been no difficulty, in these and 
 other similar respects, in hindering the 
 fulfilment of prophecy : and the wonder 
 is, that men, familiar with prophecy, ac- 
 customed to apply it to the Messiah, and 
 eager at the same time to prove that 
 Jesus was not the Messiah, should have 
 either effected or permitted the fulfil- 
 ment, thus completing the evidence, 
 which they had full power, as it seemed, 
 to weaken or mutilate. 
 
 It is a striking proof of the thorough 
 certainty with which God can reckon on 
 every working of the human mind, that 
 He should thus have put it into the 
 power of the bitter enemies of Jesus to 
 arrest the fulfilment of prophecies. He 
 could so shape predictions that a single 
 thought, and that I he thought most likely 
 to arise, would be enough to prevent 
 their being accomplished in his Son ; 
 and yet be as sure that every tittle would 
 come accurately to pass, as if He had 
 ordered it by a decree as abiding: as 
 Himself. It is not that God interfered, 
 by any direct influence, to make men 
 act as He had foretold that they would — 
 for this would be to suppose Him par- 
 taker in their wickedness, accomplishing 
 as well as predicting;. He left the ene- 
 mies of Christ to themselves, quite at 
 liberty to take their own course ■ but 
 his prescience assured Him what that 
 
SIMON THE CYRENIAN. 
 
 91 
 
 course would be ; and, acting simply on 
 his foreknowledge, He could place a 
 prophecy within a hair-breadth, as we 
 think, of being defeated, whilst its ful- 
 filment was as certain as though it had 
 occurred. 
 
 And we consider that we have in the 
 narrative now under review an instance 
 of prophecy thus accomplished, when it 
 seemed within an ace of being unfulfil- 
 led. There is no more illustrious type 
 of the Redeemer, presented in sacrifice 
 to God, than Isaac, whom, at the Divine 
 command, his father Abraham prepared 
 to offer on Moriah. We have every rea- 
 son for supposing that, in and through 
 this typical oblation, God instructed the 
 patriarch in the great truth of human 
 redemption; so that it was as he stood 
 by the altar, and lifted up his knife to 
 slay his son, that Abraham discerned the 
 shillings of Christ's day, and rejoiced in 
 the knowledge of a propitiation for sin. 
 And whatever the measure in which 
 Abraham was instructed as to the figu- 
 rative meaning of the offering up of 
 Isaac, there can be no doubt with our- 
 selves that herein was accurately por- 
 trayed the sacrifice of Christ — the sa- 
 crifice presented, in the fulness of time, 
 on the very spot where Abraham was 
 directed to immolate his son. 
 
 But it is among the most significant, 
 perhaps, and certainly the most affect- 
 ing, parts of the typical transaction, that 
 Isaac was made to cai - ry the wood on 
 which he was to be presented in sacri- 
 fice to God. We read that " Abraham 
 took the wood of the burnt-offering, and 
 laid it upon Isaac his son." Are we to 
 think that this was done without expli- 
 cit direction from God? It is hardly 
 credible. Abraham, full of tenderness 
 towards Isaac, his whole soul yearning 
 over the son of his love, and agonized 
 by the command which he was hasten- 
 ing to obey, would not have laid the 
 heavy burden on the lad, unless in con- 
 formity with an injunction from God. 
 Of Abraham we are told, that he " took 
 the fire in his hand, and a knife." So 
 that the patriarch had nothing but what 
 was light to carry : the only burdensome 
 thing — and it must have been burden- 
 some, if there were wood enough for 
 sucli a burnt-offering as Abraham ex- 
 pected — was bound upon the child ; in- 
 credible, we may say, had the father been 
 left to himself: for the consciousness 
 
 that he must soon pierce the heart of 
 his son, would only make him more ten- 
 der and affectionate till the fatal mo- 
 ment came. We take it therefore as 
 expressly ordered by God, that the wood 
 of the burnt-offering should be laid upon 
 Isaac : it was a part of the type : and, 
 taking the type as a prophecy, we might 
 justly speak of a flaw in the fulfilment, 
 were there nothing that answered to it 
 in the oblation of Christ. And to those 
 who knew nothing of the exact mode 
 in which Christ was to suffer, this might 
 have seemed one of the obscurest por- 
 tions of the type : how the sacrifice could 
 carry the wood on which he was to die, 
 was a question that could hardly be an- 
 swered, until it was known that the 
 death would be the death of the cross. 
 
 But the type was thoroughly fulfilled 
 in this singular particular, when our 
 Lord was led forth, carrying his cross. 
 This was, to the letter, Isaac, bearing 
 the wood for the burnt-offering. Yet 
 how near was the prophecy to the being 
 defeated ! It was only for a part of the 
 way that Christ carried the cross. The 
 soldiers then took it from Him, and 
 placed it on another. And they might 
 at the first have seized on some bystand- 
 er and given him the burden. It could 
 not have been indispensable that Christ 
 should bear it Himself: for, on such 
 supposition, they would hardly have 
 transferred the load. And if any of 
 the Pharisees or scribes, remembering 
 the typical history of Isaac, and deter- 
 mining that it should not foreshadow 
 that of Jesus, had suggested to the sol- 
 diery, perhaps with affected compassion, 
 that it might be as well to lay the cross 
 on another, it is probable enough that 
 they would have acted on the sugges- 
 tion, and done that at first which they 
 were ready to do after a little delay. 
 So near may the type have been to the 
 being unfulfilled ; so little may have been 
 wanting to prevent the accomplishment 
 of a signal prediction. But God, who 
 could speak through his servant Zecha- 
 riah of thirty pieces of silver as the 
 price of the Messiah, and be confident 
 that a prophecy, which He made it easy 
 to defeat, would be fulfilled to the very 
 letter, could command also the wood to 
 be bound upon Isaac, and know that, 
 notwithstanding the palpable character 
 of the type, the cross would be bound 
 upon Christ. 
 

 92 
 
 SIMON THE CYnENIAN. 
 
 And this is the first reflection which 
 we have to make, as we see that Simon 
 the Cyrenian is constrained to carry the 
 cross after Christ. Had we met the 
 procession when a little further ad- 
 vanced, we might have said, This suf- 
 fering man, who is led forth to death, 
 cannot possibly he Messiah, the antitype 
 to Isaac ; for he does not bear the wood 
 on which He is to die. But now we 
 have beheld the transfer of the cross : 
 we know that it was not laid upon Si- 
 mon, until it had been carried by Christ, 
 until, that is, the type had been fulfilled, 
 and Isaac had reappeared in a greater 
 than himself. And it is the transfer of 
 the cross which makes so remarkable 
 the fulfilment of the type. Had Christ 
 borne the cross to the end, we might 
 have thought it a matter of course that 
 the type should be fulfilled, regarding 
 the fulfilment as assured by the known 
 customs of a Roman execution. But 
 the fulfilment is here in jeopardy ; it 
 it lasted only a portion of the lime ; it 
 might therefore have not occurred at 
 all : caprice on the part of the soldiers, 
 or design upon that of the scribes, might 
 have entirely prevented it. And I seem 
 to have before me a beautiful evidence 
 how the fore knowledge of God can as- 
 sure Him of the minutest particulars, of 
 every turn of human thought, of every 
 motion of the human will, when I find 
 that Jesus did indeed come forth bear- 
 ing his cross, and therefore accomplish- 
 ing an illustrious prediction, but that 
 shortly afterwards, in the course, for 
 aught I know, of a very few minutes, 
 the soldiers laid hold on one Simon, a 
 Cyrenian, and compelled him to carry 
 the cross after Christ. 
 
 But what induced the fierce and bru- 
 tal soldiers to grant the Redeemer this 
 little indulgence, and relieve Him for a 
 time from the burden of the cross 1 We 
 have already supposed that Simon the 
 Cyrenian was laid hold of, on account 
 of his being known to favor Christ's 
 cause, and partly, therefore, with the 
 design of exposing him to ridicule. But 
 it is not to be imagined that this was the 
 only, nor even the chief, reason. Had 
 not the condition of Christ been such as 
 to suggest, in some sense, the necessity 
 of relieving Him of the load, we can 
 hardly think that the cross would have 
 been removed. It may have been that 
 even the soldiers were moved to some 
 
 thing like pity, as they saw the Redeem- 
 er tottering beneath the weight. It may 
 have been that they feared, that, if they 
 now goaded on the innocent sufferer, 
 death would ensue before they reach- 
 ed the place of execution, and rob 
 them of their victim. Or it may have 
 been that those who were eager to cru- 
 cify the Savior were impatient of delay; 
 his feeble steps were too slow for their 
 malice ; and they urged the removal of 
 the cross, that they might accelerate the 
 time of his being fastened to it with the 
 nails. 
 
 But in any case, it must have been 
 the exhausted condition of our Lord 
 which gave occasion to the removal of 
 the cross: it was transferred to Simon, 
 because, to all appearance, Christ was 
 unable iO bear it to Calvary. And this 
 is just that incidental notice which sup- 
 plies the place of lengthened narrative, 
 and lets us in, as it were, to the great- 
 . ness of the Mediator's endurances. You 
 cannot fail to be struck, when you read 
 the accounts of the crucifixion, with the 
 utter absence of those expressions of 
 pain, or assertions of suffering, which 
 abound in mere human histories of some 
 tragic occurrence. If you except that 
 most thrilling exclamation, "My God, my 
 God, why hast thou forsaken me] " there 
 is nothing whatsoever uttered by the suf- 
 fering Redeemer, from which you can 
 conclude that He suffered at all. And even 
 this exclamation indicated mental, rather 
 than bodily anguish : the deep and piteous 
 cry was wrung from Christ, not by the 
 tortures of crucifixion, but by the hiding, 
 the eclipse, of the countenance of his 
 Father. Indeed, it is also recorded by 
 St. John, that Jesus, as He hung on the 
 cross, exclaimed, " I thirst ;" and this 
 may be taken as an expression of cor- 
 poreal suffering. But it is very observ- 
 able, that the Evangelist distinctly states 
 that Jesus said this, in order " that the 
 Scripture might be fulfilled," for the 
 sake of effecting the accomplishment of 
 the prediction, " And in my thirst they 
 gave me vinegar to drink." It seems 
 implied by St. John, that Christ would 
 have said nothing as to his thirst, had 
 He not remembered a prophecy which 
 was yet unaccomplished, so that the ex- 
 clamation is hardly to be given in proof 
 of the greatness of bodily anguish. 
 
 And it might not be very difficult to 
 arrange something like a plausible theo- 
 
SIMON THE CYRENIAN. 
 
 93 
 
 vy that the Redeemer was incapable of 
 Buffering in the body : for it, is evident 
 enough that He did not die through any 
 extremity of nature ; He was not ex- 
 hausted, but voluntarily breathed out 
 his soul : and when you add this to the 
 fact, that not a word escaped Him from 
 which we can certainly gather that He 
 suffered in the flesh, there might cer- 
 tainly seem some ground for supposing, 
 that, though He bore a human form, 
 He was not accessible to human pain. 
 And we need not stay to show you how 
 fatal such a supposition would be to the 
 whole Christian system : for you all 
 know, that, had not Christ been, in the 
 strictest sense, a man, a man like one of 
 ourselves, sin only excepted, He could 
 not have acted as our surety in turning 
 away from us the anger of God. But a 
 man like one of ourselves He could not 
 have been, unless, like one of ourselves, 
 He had been accessible to pain, so as 
 to feel, and to suffer keenly in feeling, 
 the scourging, and the buffeting, and 
 the driving of the nails. It seems there- 
 fore as if it would be inexpressibly 
 valuable to us, were it only recorded 
 that He groaned or sighed when sub- 
 mitting to the fearful processes of cru- 
 cifixion. Had but the least sisrn of an- 
 guish escaped Him — of bodily anguish ; 
 for mental is quite another thing ; He 
 evinced this in the garden as well as on 
 the ci'oss ; but it was purely mental, and 
 proved nothing as to his flesh ; — had 
 then the least sign of bodily anguish es- 
 caped Him, a look, a cry, a convulsive 
 start, and had it been mentioned by Evan- 
 gelists, it would have served to identify 
 the Redeemer with ourselves, and to 
 make us feel that he was indeed " bone 
 of our bone, and flesh of our flesh." 
 But a crucifixion without the slightest 
 manifestation of pain, nay, with such 
 manifestation of superiority to pain, that 
 the crucified one could count over what 
 prophecies yet remained to be accom- 
 plished, give directions as to a home for 
 his mother, and determine at what mo- 
 ment his soul should depart ; this al- 
 most looks as though He who hung upon 
 the cross had no feeling of the torture : 
 and how then could He have been my 
 kinsman in all but depravity, my brother 
 in all but mv o-uilt 1 
 
 But here the incident, on which we 
 are discoursing, comes in, and scatters 
 all doubt. I could not spare this inci- 
 
 dent ; it just serves to assure me of the 
 bodily sufferings of Christ ; it is to me 
 what an extorted (n-oan would have 
 been, a decisive witness, that the mar- 
 vellous patience of the Redeemer in no 
 degree indicated that He did not feel in 
 the flesh. For why is the cross taken 
 from Him, and placed upon Simon 1 
 Because He could scarcely advance, so 
 exhausted was He with what He had 
 endured, and so oppressed by the bur- 
 den. He had already been scourged 
 and buffeted. He had been smitten on 
 the head with a reed : his brow had 
 been pierced with the thorns : cruel in- 
 sults had been heaped upon Him : for 
 the soldiers had arrayed Him in purple, 
 and bowed tauntingly before Him, " say- 
 ing, Hail, king of the Jews." And 
 there is not the least hint given by the 
 Evangelists, that, throughout this fierce 
 and ignominious treatment, He gave 
 any indication of pain : He might have 
 been more than a stoic, indifferent to 
 pain ; He might have been of a nature 
 which was incapable of pain. But 
 when the cross was laid upon Him, and, 
 after a time, He grew faint beneath the 
 load — ah, then was it seen how what 
 He passed through told upon the body ; 
 He had felt, if He had not shown his 
 feeling ; and now as he tottered feebly 
 on, almost prostrated by his burden, a 
 sinking sufferer whose every step seem- 
 ed likely to be his last, indeed, indeed, 
 it was evident that He was but a man, 
 in the having flesh which could quiver, 
 if He were more than a man in his 
 power over body and soul. And thus 
 is the incident narrated in our text, and 
 which may be easily passed by with but 
 cursory notice, most consolatory to those 
 who seek to be assured that the Media- 
 tor " suffered, being tempted," and that 
 the mysterious fact of his combining in 
 one person the Divine nature and the 
 human, did not exempt Him from such 
 capacity of pain as might qualify Him 
 to sympathize with the groaning and 
 oppressed. 
 
 We tell you again, we could not spare 
 this incident : it would leave a gap in 
 evangelical histories, which it would he 
 quite beyond our power to fill. We 
 have indeed evidence that Christ could 
 hunger, and thirst, and be weary; and 
 all such evidence is most .precious, as 
 testifying to the real humanity of the 
 Savior. But nevertheless, the evidence 
 
94 
 
 SIMON THE CYRENIAN. 
 
 is far from being considerable ; and if 
 you set it against the account of a cru- 
 cifixion, in which there is not the least 
 proof that any pain was felt, you might 
 find it hard to furnish a convincing de- 
 monstration that Christ suffered in the 
 body like one of ourselves. What we 
 want is a clear witness, that He was no 
 more incapable of bodily pain than any 
 other of our race ; but just where you 
 would most naturally look for this wit- 
 ness, in the record of those endurances 
 through which He presented Himself in 
 sacrifice to God, you cannot find it in 
 the very lowest degree, if you remove 
 the account of the bearing the cross. I 
 look with a sort of fearfulness and awe 
 upon the Mediator, as malice and cruel- 
 ty seem unable to wring from Him a 
 sigh or a groan. I gaze in utter amaze- 
 ment, as He is lacerated by strijies, 
 stricken by rude hands, baited by the 
 rabble, and yet suffers no sign to escape 
 Him that He feels the wounds, and 
 writhes under the indignities. And as 
 He is nailed to the cross, and then that 
 cross, straining under its living burden, 
 is lifted from the earth, and made to 
 quiver in its socket, I can but exjject 
 the low moan of anguish, if not the wild 
 and piercing shriek ; and it startles me 
 more, that there should be deep, sepul- 
 chral silence, than had the air been rent 
 with the cries of the sufferer. Is this 
 man, as well as God, over whom pain 
 would seem to have no power? Is his 
 humanity any thing more than a phan- 
 tom 1 is it real, if thus, to all appear- 
 ance, inaccessible to pain % Ah, it is 
 not inaccessible to pain : the scourging 
 has been felt, the driving of the nails 
 has been felt, the fixing the cross has 
 been felt. If yonder victim have power 
 to suppress the indications of agony, 
 his agony is not the less actual, not the 
 less intense. He has already shown 
 that He feels what He endures. He 
 has already given evidence enough to 
 assure the must doubtful, that He is 
 verily a man, with all a man's suscepti- 
 bilities, his consciousness of pain, his 
 capacity of being tortured. For as He 
 came out from the city, bearing his cross, 
 so worn down was He by his sufferings, 
 so faint with loss of blond, so exhaust- 
 ed by fatigue, that even his remorseless 
 enemies either pitied Him, or feared 
 that He would die before He was cru- 
 cified : " the soldiers found a man of 
 
 Cyrene, Simon by name, and him they 
 compelled to bear his cross." 
 
 Now hitherto we have considered the 
 incident of the transfer of the cross, with 
 reference exclusively to our Savior; ex- 
 amining it first in connexion with an an- 
 cient type : and then as illustrating the 
 realitv of those sufferings through which 
 Christ made atonement for the sins of 
 the world. We have not yet treated the 
 incident as itself typical or symbolical; 
 though we can hardly doubt that an 
 event, which has apparently so much of 
 significance, was designed to be receiv- 
 ed by us as a parable, and interpreted 
 as a lesson to the Church. 
 
 It can hardly fail to occur to you, 
 that, on more than one occasion, Christ 
 had spoken of taking up and carrying 
 the cross, when he wished to represent 
 what would be required of his disciples. 
 " And he that taketh not his cross, and 
 followeth after me, is not worthy of me." 
 " If any man will come after me, let him 
 deny himself, and take up his cross, and 
 follow me." " Go thy way, sell what- 
 soever thou hast, and give to the poor, 
 and thou shalt have treasure in heaven; 
 and come, take up the cross, and follow 
 me." There cannot well be doubt, that, 
 in adopting this peculiar imagery, in 
 making the bearing of the cross the test 
 of discipleship, our Lord had respect to 
 his own crucifixion : the metaphor, the 
 figure of speech, was one whose use 
 must have arisen from the death which 
 He foreknew that He should die. And 
 it is only in consistence with the uniform 
 course of our Savior's public teaching, 
 that we should expect the same lesson 
 in significative emblems or actions, as 
 we find delivered in his sermons or con- 
 versations. You are all aware that mi- 
 racles served as parables ; so that much 
 which Christ was in the habit of assert- 
 ing in words, He set forth figuratively 
 in those actions which attested him to be 
 a teacher commissioned by God. The 
 miracles were thus not only his creden- 
 tials as a Prophet : they declared the 
 subject matter of his teaching, as well 
 as substantiated his authority to teach. 
 And if the duty of taking up the cross, 
 frequently urged as it was in the dis- 
 courses of Christ, had been one which 
 admitted of being readily set forth in his 
 miracles, we may believe that we should 
 long before have had its figurative as 
 well as its verbal announcement. But 
 
SIMON THE CYRENIANT. 
 
 95 
 
 as Christ was literally to bear his cross 
 only once, there may have been nothing 
 to suggest, or give occasion for, the ty- 
 pical exhibition until that day of wonder 
 and of fear, when He was delivered to 
 the will of his enemies. Then however 
 was it ordered that the truth, so often 
 urged in discourse, should be displayed 
 in significant action : when the Redeem- 
 er has literally a cross to bear, that cross 
 is also literally borne by one of his ad- 
 herents. 
 
 And we do not know whether the fig- 
 urative lesson ought not to be consider- 
 ed as going beyond the verbal. What 
 the Savior had spoken of, and what He 
 had enjoined, was simply the bearing 
 the cross — the performing duties, and 
 the submitting to endurances, from which 
 nature might be averse, but which were 
 appointed unto those who would gain 
 eternal life. He had not spoken of his 
 own cross as that which his disciples 
 were to carry : but now, before He de- 
 parts from the world, He would teach 
 them that they must not only bear some 
 cross or another if they would follow 
 Him to glory, but that very cross which 
 He carried Himself. And it may be in 
 reference to this, to the sameness of the 
 cross borne by the Master and the dis- 
 ciples, that St. Paul uses a very remark- 
 able expression in writing to the Colos- 
 sians : " I fill up that which is behind of 
 the afflictions of Christ in my flesh for 
 his body's sake, which isithe Church." 
 There was no deficiency in the afflictions 
 of Christ, so far as they were propitia- 
 tory ; and if there had been, no Apostle, 
 and no company of Apostles, could have 
 filled up that which was behind. Yet 
 this is what St. Paul represents himself 
 as doing ; and we can only understand 
 him as speaking of his afflictions, as 
 arising from the same causes, and endured 
 for the same ends, as those of the Re- 
 deemer, and moreover as necessary to 
 the Church — not indeed in the sense of 
 expiating its guilt, but in that of being 
 instrumental to the adding to its num- 
 bers. St. Paul, like Christ, was perse- 
 cuted for righteousness' sake : like 
 Christ, he submitted to persecution, for 
 the purpose of benefiting others ; there- 
 fore his sufferings might be spoken of 
 as a part of that aggregate of woe, 
 which had to be sustained in order to 
 the salvation of the body, the Church. 
 So that the representation of the Apos- 
 
 tle in regard of himself, is precisely that 
 which we raiffht draw from Christ's last 
 instance of symbolical teaching — the 
 disciple bore the cross which his master 
 had borne ; even as that laid upon Si- 
 mon, had been carried by Christ. 
 
 Let not the symbolical lesson be hasti- 
 ly dismissed, as though it were not im- 
 portant enough to be carefully ponder- 
 ed, or as though we were too familiar 
 with it to require that it be often re- 
 peated. There is no greater mistake 
 than that which would represent it as an 
 easy thing to attain eternal life. Just 
 because Christianity is the revelation of 
 a free pardon to transgressors, the an- 
 nouncement of a wondrous interposition 
 of Deity on our behalf — an interposi- 
 tion through which there has been pro- 
 vided for the guilty, without money and 
 without price, whatsoever is required to 
 their full justification — therefore is it 
 surmised that there is little, if any thing, 
 for the guilty to do ; and that salvation 
 asks no effort, seeing that confessedly 
 no effort could deserve it. But again 
 and again must the protest be delivered 
 against a theory so opposed to the Gos- 
 pel, and so fatal to the soul. There are 
 such things as conditions of salvation ; 
 it is not legalizing, it is not frustrating 
 
 O O 7 o 
 
 the grace of God, to assert and insist on 
 conditions of salvation. Salvation is a 
 free gift : let the tongue cleave to the 
 roof of the mouth, rather than give ut- 
 terance to a syllable which shall seem to 
 impeach the freeness of the gift. But 
 the gift is bestowed only iipon those 
 who " by patient continuance in well- 
 doing seek for glorv, honor, and immor- 
 tality." Since it is still a gift, it cannot 
 be the "patient continuance" which 
 procures it : for then it would be debt, 
 and no longer gift. The " patient con- 
 tinuance " however is lequired of all 
 who hope for the gift, required as a con- 
 dition, a condition without which God 
 does not please to bestow, but which, in 
 no degree whatsoever, obliges Him to 
 bestow, and which therefore, when most 
 rigidly performed, takes not one tittle 
 away from the unlimited freeness of the 
 gift. And thus with all its gratuitous- 
 ness, with all its assertion of human in- 
 sufficiency, and all its proffers of for- 
 giveness and righteousness, the Gospel 
 lays an unceasing demand on every 
 energy, requiring of us that we " work 
 out with fear and trembling," that salva- 
 
96 
 
 SIMON THE CYRENIAN. 
 
 tion for ourselves, which we thankfully 
 confess to have been wrought out for us 
 by Christ. 
 
 In short, the bearing the cross is re- 
 vealed as the indispensable prerequisite 
 to the wearing the crown. And the 
 memorable thing is, that it is Christ's 
 cross which must be borne. You are 
 not to think that every cross is the cross 
 which the Savior requires you to take 
 up. Many a cross is of our own manu- 
 facture : our troubles are often but the 
 consequences of our sins, and we may 
 not dignify these by supposing them the 
 cross which is to distinguish" the Chris- 
 tian. Crosses they may be ; but they 
 are not the cross which was laid upon 
 Simon, and which had first been on 
 Christ. The cross of Christ is endur- 
 ance for the glory of God, and the fur- 
 therance of the Gospel : " this is thank- 
 worthy." saith St. Peter, " if a man for 
 conscience toward God endure grief, 
 suffering wrongfully." It is something 
 more than self-denial, though frequently 
 spoken of as though it were the same ; 
 for our Lord distinguishes them when 
 He says, in words already quoted, " If 
 any man will come after me, let him 
 deny himself, and take up his cross, and 
 follow me." We read of the Apostles 
 of Christ, that they rejoiced that " they 
 were counted worthy to suffer shame 
 for his name," — and this was both bear- 
 ing his cross, and feeling it an honor to 
 bear it. So that he alone bears Christ's 
 cross who suffers in his cause, who has 
 troubles to endure simply because he is 
 a Christian. 
 
 And be y r e thoroughly assured, that 
 " the offence of the cross " has not 
 ceased. He who glories in the cross 
 of Christ, will certainly find that cross 
 laid upon himself. He cannot separate 
 from the world without incurring the 
 frown and derision of the world ; and 
 these are but the modern forms of per- 
 secution, less virulent indeed than the 
 ancient, but often to the full as galling: 
 and oppressive. And if there be one of 
 you who is not aware that he has a ci'oss 
 of this kind to carry, that religion ex- 
 poses him to any measure of obloquy, 
 contempt or opposition, let him rather 
 fear that he is not a real Christian, than 
 question whether Christ's cross have 
 indeed been transferred to his disciples. 
 You may not have the cross : but it 
 should suggest to you the inquiry, Can 
 
 I be a disciple 1 And further, let the 
 followers of Christ learn, that nothing 
 whatsoever is to be gained by those 
 compromises which may be made with 
 the hope of conciliating the world. If 
 you truly belong to Christ, you must 
 bear the frown of the world ; and all 
 that you will get by evading, or trying 
 to disarm it, is, that when it comes, as 
 come it must, it will be all the severer 
 for having been shunned. Where had 
 Simon the Cyrenian been, whilst Christ 
 was enduring shame and indignity 1 ? 
 Not in Jerusalem : he was met, as St. 
 Mark states, " coming out of the coun- 
 try." Supposing him a disciple, he 
 ought to have remained with Christ in 
 his hour of danger : but he had proba- 
 bly gone out of the way, wishing to let 
 the storm blow over before he showed 
 himself in the city : and now he may 
 have been returning, calculating that 
 the worst was past, and that no harm 
 could happen to him from his reputed 
 adherence to Christ. This was declin- 
 ing the cross ; and the short-sighted 
 policy met a full retribution. He is 
 compelled to bear the cross. The sol- 
 diers seize him, the multitude scoff him ; 
 and he has perhaps a thousandfold more 
 to sustain than had he not thought to 
 ward off, by a cowardly absence, what in 
 one form or another a Christian must bear, 
 or be a Christian in nothing but name. 
 
 Be ye certain, then, not only that, if 
 Christians, you must carry Christ's 
 cross, but that you make it all the heavi- 
 er by avoiding it when it lies in the clear 
 path of duty. There is no such way 
 of incurring shame as the being asham- 
 ed of Christ. For if you be not left, in 
 just judgment on your cowardice and 
 desertion, to harden into mere nominal 
 disciples, of whom Christ will be asham- 
 ed when He cometh with his angels, you 
 may be sure that you shall be punished 
 with an aggravated measure of the very 
 contempt which you have thought to 
 avoid. Even the world respects con- 
 sistency ; and its bitterest scorn is for 
 those who have tried to disarm it by 
 concealing, if not abjuring, their princi- 
 ples. Simon might have remained in 
 Jerusalem, and then have followed 
 Christ to Calvary with but little observa- 
 tion : but forasmuch as he is met, " com- 
 ing out of the country," he shall be the 
 sport of the rabble, a mark for universal 
 ridicule and scorn. 
 
 
SIMON THE CYRENIANF. 
 
 9T 
 
 And yet even in his case, there is one 
 other particular which should be noted 
 for the comfort of the Church. The 
 cross was carried by Christ, before it 
 was carried by Simon. The arrange- 
 ment might have been different : the 
 disciple might have borne the burden 
 the first part of the way, and then it 
 might have been laid on the Master. 
 But our comfort is, that the cross which 
 we must carry has been already carried 
 by Christ, and therefore, like the grave 
 which He entered, been stripped of its 
 hatefulness. It might almost be said to 
 have changed its nature through beinf 
 laid on the Son of God : it left behind 
 it its terribleness, its oppressiveness : 
 and now, as transferred to the disciple, 
 it is indeed a cross, but across which it 
 is a privilege to bear, a cross which God 
 never fails to give strength to bear, a 
 cross, which, as leading to a crown, may 
 justly be prized, so that we would not 
 have it off our shoulders, till the diadem 
 is on our brow. " If ye be reproached 
 for the name of Christ" — and this is 
 the cross — " happy are ye ; for the 
 Spirit of glory and of God resteth upon 
 you." O see ye not, then, how eloquent 
 and comprehensive a homily was deliv- 
 ered through the simple incident re- 
 lated in our text 1 It is one of Christ's 
 last and most impressive sermons. He 
 would not leave the world without fur- 
 nishing a standing memorial, that his 
 disciples must bear the same cross as 
 Himself, inasmuch as, like Himself, they 
 must endure the world's hatred as 
 champions and examples of truth. And 
 together with this memorial He would 
 show, by a powerful instance, that, in 
 religion, a temporizing policy is sure to 
 defeat itself, so that to fly from the 
 cross is commonly to meet it, dilated in 
 size, and heavier in material. But He 
 had one more truth to represent at the 
 same time — the beautiful comforting 
 truth, that He has borne what his fol- 
 lowers have to bear, and thereby so 
 lightened it, that, as with death, which 
 He made sleep to the believer, the bur- 
 den but quickens the step towards the 
 " exceeding and eternal weight of 
 glory." And that He might effect and 
 convey all this through one great signifi- 
 cant action, it was ordered, we may be- 
 lieve, that, as they led away Jesus, car- 
 rying like Isaac the wood for the burnt- 
 offering, the soldiers laid hold on one 
 
 Simon, a Cyrenian, coming out of the 
 country, and him they compelled to bear 
 his cross. 
 
 And is this all that was typically re- 
 presented by the laying of the cross on 
 Simon the Cyrenian 1 Indeed we ought 
 never to press a type too far : it is easy, 
 by indulging the imagination, to injure 
 or bring into discredit the whole of the 
 figurative lesson. Yet there is one 
 thing more which we would venture to 
 advance, though we may not speak with 
 the same confidence as when asserting 
 that Christ taught by action, as He had 
 before taught by word, that his disciples 
 must suffer with Him, if they ever hope 
 to reign. We have already mentioned 
 our inability to ascertain any particulars 
 respecting Simon, or even to determine 
 whether he were a Jew or a Pagan. 
 Many of the ancient fathers suppose 
 him to have been a Pagan, and consider 
 that, in being made to bear the cross 
 after Christ, He typified the conversion 
 of idolatrous nations which either have 
 been or will be brought to a profession 
 of faith in our Lord. And there are no 
 such reasons against this opinion as can 
 require its rejection, nor such even as 
 can show that the weight of probability 
 is on the opposite side. We must be 
 therefore at liberty to entertain the 
 opinion, and, at least, to point out the 
 inferences which would follow on sup- 
 position of its truth. 
 
 But once let it be considered that Si- 
 mon was a Pagan, and our text becomes 
 one of those bright, prophetic lines 
 which shoot through centuries of gloom, 
 giving promise of a morning, if they can- 
 not scatter night. It is not the single 
 fact of his having been a heathen on 
 which we would now fasten : for there 
 are scriptural assertions in abundance, 
 that the heathen have been given to 
 Christ for an inheritance, and that all the 
 ends of the earth shall yet look to Him 
 as a Savior; so that if the laying of the 
 cross upon Simon merely intimated pro- 
 phetically the conversion of the Gentiles, 
 it would be but one in a series of predic- 
 tions, and might not claim any special 
 attention. But Simon was a Cyrenian — 
 this is carefully noted by each of the 
 three evangelists — and Cyrene, as we 
 mentioned in commencing our discourse, 
 was a city and province of Africa. Then 
 it was on an African that the cross was 
 laid — on an inhabitant, a native of that 
 
 6 
 
98 
 
 SIMON THE CYRENIAN. 
 
 country which, from the earliest days, 
 has been burdened with a curse ; the 
 malediction pronounced upon Ham, " a 
 servant of servants shall he be unto his 
 brethren," having been fearfully exacted, 
 so that those sprung from the second son 
 of Noah have, all along, been ground 
 down and trampled on by the descend- 
 ants of the other two. 
 
 Africa — the very name is sufficient to 
 call up a blush, wheresoever there are 
 the feelings of a man. The wrongs of 
 the negro fill perhaps the darkest page 
 in the history of our race. But whilst 
 those who have oppressed the Africans 
 have been just as criminal as though the 
 oppression had not been distinctly pre- 
 dicted, it is vain to shut our eyes to 
 the fact, that the period has not yet 
 closed during which, by Divine appoint- 
 ment, this tribe of human kind is to be 
 injured and enslaved. Those philan- 
 thropic individuals acted nobly and well, 
 who fought in this country the battle of 
 the slave, and would not rest till the 
 seriate branded and proscribed the traf- 
 fic in human sinew and bone. And our 
 country did gloriously when she threw 
 down her millions as a ransom, resolv- 
 ing to extinguish slavery in her colonies, 
 but to maintain, at the same time, good 
 faith and justice. We speak of all this 
 as noble and excellent, because we be- 
 lieve it to have been our duty as Chris- 
 tians to set ourselves against slavery as 
 hostile to the spirit of the Gospel, and 
 to attempt this duty at all costs, and, 
 what is more, all risks. But if we were 
 to argue from consequences, in place of 
 from principles, we might almost hesi- 
 tate to rejoice that the attack upon slav- 
 ery had ever been made. Notwithstand- 
 ing all that has been done for Africa, 
 Africa, alas ! is as wretched as ever, as 
 much rifled of her children, as though 
 the ancestral curse were not yet worn 
 out, and, whilst it were in force, the ef- 
 fort to benefit could only work injury. 
 But is this to continue ] Undoubted- 
 ly not, — for every prophecy which as- 
 serts the universal diffusion of Chris- 
 tianity must be considered as announc- 
 ing a time when the wrongs of Africa 
 shall terminate, and her tortured chil- 
 dren enter into the liberty of the sons of 
 God. 
 
 But where there is special wretched- 
 ness one seems to ci-ave a special pro- 
 phecy. It is such a trial of faith to find 
 
 that we seem unable to do anything for 
 Africa, her vast deserts being still the 
 grave of all who would explore them, 
 and the bondage of her children only 
 growing w r ith efforts for their emancipa- 
 tion, that we long for specific predic- 
 tions, assuring us that Africa is not ex- 
 cluded from the promised glory, but will 
 throw off every shackle, whether of the 
 mind or the body. There are such pre- 
 dictions. " Princes shall come out of 
 Egypt ; the Morian's land shall soon 
 stretch out her hands unto God." " Be- 
 hold, Philistia and Tyre, with Ethiopia ; 
 this man was born, there." " The labor 
 of Egypt, and merchandize of Ethiopia 
 and of the Sabeans, men of stature, shall 
 come over unto thee, and they shall be 
 thine." I rejoice in prophecies which 
 tell of blessings for Ethiopia. I remem- 
 ber the question, " Can the Ethiopian 
 change his skin 1" and I feel that these 
 prophecies belong to the negro. When 
 the eunuch of Candace, queen of the 
 Ethiopians, goes on his way rejoicing 
 because believing in Jesus, I seem to 
 have a pledge of mercy in store for the 
 negro. But all this hardly comes up to 
 the measure of the case. O for an am- 
 pler prophecy, a more express type. 
 There is scarce enough in such passing 
 intimations as these, to sustain the faith 
 which is staggered by the increasing 
 wretchedness of Africa, and its undimin- 
 ished wickedness. Then let us go and 
 look on the Redeemer as He toils to- 
 wards Calvary. Who is it that, in the 
 ordering of Providence, has been ap- 
 pointed to carry his cross 1 A Cyrenian, 
 an African. I read the prophecy, I ap- 
 prehend the type. Land, that hath long 
 been accursed, whose children have 
 verily been the servants of servants, 
 over which has hung so ponderous a 
 gloom, that those most hopeful of im- 
 provement in human condition have al- 
 most turned from thee in despair — bright 
 times await thee. Thou art not in bond- 
 age for ever; thy chains shall yet be 
 dashed away : the star of Bethlehem, 
 the sun of righteousness, shall yet break 
 upon thy provinces and gleam in thy 
 waters ; the anthem which ascribes 
 praise, and glory, and honor to the Lamb 
 that was slain, shall float through thy 
 forests, and be echoed by thy mountains. 
 Not without a meaning was one of thy 
 sons selected to bear the cros3 after 
 Christ, and thus to fill a post to which 
 
THE POWER OF THE EYE. 
 
 99 
 
 the martyrs and confessors of every age 
 of Christianity have counted it their 
 highest honor to succeed. It was as 
 though to tell us that even Africa shall 
 yet be brought to the discipleship of 
 Jesus. Europe gave not this type of 
 the Gentile world submitting itself to 
 Christ. Asia was not permitted to own 
 the favored individual. America, as yet 
 unknown to the rest of the earth, might 
 not send the representative of heathen- 
 
 ism. Africa is the privileged country ; 
 an African follows Jesus — oh, the dark- 
 ness of many generations seems scatter- 
 ed ; and I rejoice in the assurance that 
 the land of slaves shall be the home of 
 freedom, the land of misery the home ot 
 happiness, the land of idolatry the home 
 of Christianity, when I observe that it 
 was one Simon, a Cyrenian, whom the 
 soldiers seized and constrained to bear 
 the cross after Christ. 
 
 SERMON XII. 
 
 THE POWER OF THE EYE. 
 
 " I will instruct thee and teacli thee in the way which thou shalt go: I will guide thee with mine eye. Be ye not as 
 the horse or as the mule, which have no understanding, whose mouth must be held in with bit and bridle, lest they 
 come near unto thee." — Psalm xsxii. 8, 9. 
 
 There may be some debate as to who 
 should be considered the speaker of 
 these words, whether the Psalmist or 
 God Himself. You must often have 
 observed in reading the Psalms, what a 
 frequent change of persons there is, so 
 that the sacred hymn has all the appear- 
 ance of a conversation, carried on be- 
 tween various though undefined parties. 
 And you should bear in mind, that the 
 Psalms, having been composed for pub- 
 lic worship, were used in services con- 
 ducted by numerous ministers or per- 
 formers : a voice from one side of the 
 temple wakened a voice from another : 
 chorus replied to chorus ; and occasion- 
 ally a single low strain was heard, as 
 from the recesses of the sanctuary, breath- 
 ing" words which were listened to as from 
 the oracle of God. It often surprising- 
 ly helps the interpretation of the Psalms, 
 to observe the change of speakers, and 
 to endeavor to determine who may have 
 been personified by one, and who by 
 another. Bishop Korslcy, ill his transla- 
 
 tion and arrangement of these beautiful 
 hymns, has divided each into parts, and 
 assigned to each part its speaker ; and 
 if you cannot, in every case, see the pro- 
 priety of the division which he makes, 
 you will yet in most find that division 
 itself an admirable commentary on the 
 hymn, the appropriation of the stanzas 
 removing much obscurity, and elucidat- 
 ing the meaning'. 
 
 In the instance of our text, the learn- 
 ed prelate supposes the first verse to 
 proceed from the oracular voice which 
 pronounced those parts of a psalm which 
 were to be taken as spoken in God's 
 name ; the second he considers as the 
 utterance of the Psalmist, addressing 
 himself to the by-standers, who had 
 heard this oracular voice. We do not 
 know that it materially affects the force 
 and beauty of the passage, whether we 
 regard it as thus spoken partly by God 
 and partly by David, or whether we 
 consider it as proceeding wholly from 
 either of the two. But perhaps the 
 
100 
 
 THE POWER OF THE EYE. 
 
 bishop's supposition accords best with 
 the character of the verses themselves; 
 and we shall therefore adopt it, so far 
 as we may have occasion, in illustrating 
 what is spoken, to make a reference to 
 the speaker. 
 
 It is God, then, who may be consider- 
 ed as saying, whether to the Psalmist 
 individually, or to every child of our 
 race, " I will instruct thee and teach 
 thee in the way which thou shalt go ; I 
 will guide thee with mine eye." There 
 is here the promise of direction and pro- 
 tection, but a promise, as you will all 
 see, whose fulfilment can take place only 
 to the watchful and the meek. If there 
 is to be instruction and teaching on the 
 part of God, theremust be a hearkening 
 and an attentiveness on the part of man : 
 the relation supposed is that between a 
 preceptor and a scholar : and it is not 
 enough that the preceptor be willing to 
 impart knowledge, it is further required 
 that the scholar be ready to receive it. 
 And that a teachable disposition is sup- 
 posed in those who are addressed by the 
 oracular voice, you will further infer 
 from the remainder of the utterance, 
 " I will guide thee with mine eye." We 
 shall, as we proceed, lay great stress on 
 this expression ; it is a very singular one, 
 and deserves the being most closely 
 considered. At present it will be suffi- 
 cient to observe to you, that if God is to 
 guide us with his eye, to guide us, as it 
 were, by a look, it is evident that there 
 must be a watchfulness on our own part ; 
 the voice of God might force attention, 
 compelling even the careless to receive 
 certain directions, but manifestly the eye 
 of God carl guide none but those who are 
 diligently observing the lightest indica- 
 tions of his will. Hence, as we said before, 
 whatsoever there be of gracious promise 
 in the oracular utterance, is addressed to 
 those only who possess and exercise a 
 certain disposition, a disposition to re- 
 ceive and be on the watch for instruc- 
 tion. God does not promise that He 
 will guide those who give no heed to 
 quiet suggestions and gentle intimations, 
 but those alone who are hearkening for 
 instruction, and for whom a glance is 
 sufficient. 
 
 And this being the scope and bearing 
 of the words from the oracle, you will 
 enter readily into the meaning of the 
 following verse, considered as the ad- 
 dress or advice of the Psalmist to the 
 
 by-standers, who are supposed to have 
 been hearkening to the heavenly pro- 
 mise. A certain disposition had been 
 described as essential to all who would 
 have God for their leader : at least, if 
 not explicitly described, it had been 
 sufficiently intimated to be known by 
 every hearer. The Psalmist, therefore 
 takes occasion to deliver a warning 
 against the opposite disposition — a dis- 
 position to yield only to harsh measures 
 and severe discipline. " Be ye not as 
 the horse, or as the mule, which have 
 no understanding, whose mouth must be 
 held in with bit and bridle." You see 
 that a contrast is intended between those 
 who could be guided by the eye, and 
 those who required the bit and the 
 bridle. It is as much as to say, you 
 have heard who those are who may ex- 
 pect the great privilege of being led by 
 the Almighty, even such as may be said 
 to be watching his countenance, that 
 they may catch from it the least signs of 
 his will. Take ye good heed, then, that 
 ye be not careless and stubborn, resem- 
 bling those beasts who need the rein 
 and the muzzle, and whom nothing but 
 actual force will keep in the right path, 
 or prevent from doing mischief. If the 
 promise of God be to those who are ob- 
 servant of his eye, what must their con- 
 dition be, who care for nothing but his 
 scourge 1 
 
 Here, then, we have before us a very 
 interesting subject of discourse, in the 
 opposite dispositions delineated by our 
 text. We have said enough to put you 
 in possession of the general idea, and 
 we may now proceed to illustrations 
 and inferences. We shall naturally ar- 
 range what we have to advance under 
 the divisions suggested by the verses 
 themselves. In the first place, we have 
 to examine what may be gathered from 
 the saying, " I will guide thee with 
 mine eye : " in the second place, we 
 have to consider what force this saying 
 gives to the exhortation, " Be ye not as 
 the horse, or as the mule." 
 
 Now you will have already undei - - 
 stood, that we regard guidance with the 
 eye as proving great attentiveness in 
 the party who is led, great anxiety to 
 catch the wishes of the being who guides, 
 and great readiness in obeying the 
 lightest intimations of his will. We 
 know very well that with a thoroughly 
 obedient and affectionate child a look is 
 
THE POWER OF THE EYE. 
 
 101 
 
 sufficient : lie will not wait till the pa- 
 rent issue an actual prohibition, or im- 
 pose an absolute command ; he will take 
 direction from a turn of the countenance, 
 from a gesture, from a movement ; and 
 where be can do little more than guess 
 what will be most acceptable, he will 
 act on what is likely, rather than excuse 
 himself by the want of more distinct in- 
 formation. And such a disposition it 
 would appear to be, of which God in 
 our text intimates his approval : the 
 party whom He can lead with his eye, 
 must be one who does not in every case 
 demand express categorical instructions, 
 but who, in the absence of these, will 
 search out the slightest hints, the brief- 
 est intimations, and act carefully on 
 what is probable, where there is nothing 
 certain to direct him. We are inclined 
 to think, for example, that much of the 
 Bible, or at least of the New Testament, 
 is constructed on the principle that it is 
 with his eye that God would guide his 
 Church, truths being often intimated 
 rather than affirmed, left to be detected 
 by an ever-watchful student, though not 
 exposed to every cursory observer. And 
 more than this — for the guidance of the 
 eye may be yet more subtile and deli- 
 cate — it may be that Scripture puts the 
 probabilities on the side of a certain te- 
 net or practice, when it cannot be affirm- 
 ed that it places it beyond controversy ; 
 and if such a case occur, we suppose 
 that those who are guided by the eye, 
 will incline to the holding the tenet, or 
 the adopting the practice, though they 
 cannot plead express and positive com- 
 mand. The child may receiva a letter 
 from his parent, containing express di- 
 rections as to certain points on which he 
 .needs teaching, but nothing very defi- 
 nite as to others on which he is in doubt. 
 Of course he will not hesitate in regard 
 of the first ; he has there more than the 
 guidance of the eye : and no excuse can 
 be invented for his swerving from the 
 will of his parent. But in regard of the 
 last, the points on which the parent has 
 given no express directions, there are 
 two courses which he may pursue : he 
 may refuse to act at all, unless he be 
 furnished with explicit commands : or 
 he may read the letter again and again, 
 marking every turn of expression, and 
 weighing word against word, anxious to 
 see whether the mind of the parent may 
 not be gathered from incidental notices, 
 
 or whether there he not reason to con- 
 clude that one course would be more 
 agreeable to him than another. We 
 should pronounce the child who acted 
 in the latter manner, as distinguished 
 from one who acted in the former, ready 
 to be led by the eye as well as by the 
 tongue ; he is endeavorin"', in the ab- 
 sence of words, to catch the looks oi 
 his father ; and you will all admit that 
 he hereby shows an amiableness and a 
 warmth of affection which ought to se- 
 cure for him a larger measure of parental 
 regard. 
 
 Let us consider whether nothing of 
 the like kind may be said in respect of 
 that letter, the Bible, which our heaven- 
 ly Parent has written to the Church. 
 On far the greater number of points on 
 which we require direction, the letter is 
 so explicit and distinct, that if we re- 
 main ignorant or mistaken, it can only 
 be through our own ignorance or wil- 
 fulness. And in respect of these, it is 
 not to be said that God guides us with 
 his eye : the instructions are express, 
 written down and spoken so as to be 
 known and read of all. But there are 
 other points on which it would be quite 
 idle to assert this explicitness of direc- 
 tion, but on which nevertheless there 
 may be passing intimations, such as an 
 affectionate observation will note, and a 
 devoted obedience will follow. There 
 may be material from which to infer 
 which of two courses is the more likely 
 to be acceptable to God, even where 
 there is not enough for our fixing with 
 certainty ; and we should say that the 
 man who acted on the likelihood, where 
 he could not get the certainty, would de- 
 serve to be spoken of as guided by the 
 eye, when he could not hear the voice. 
 An instance is furnished, we think, in 
 the matter of the baptism of infants. 
 There can be no debate amongst those 
 who are willing to take Scripture in its 
 plain unvarnished sense, that baptism is 
 the appointed rile of initiation into the 
 Church of the Redeemer. Our Lord's 
 directions on this matter are so strong 
 and distinct, that we cannot be said to 
 be guided merely by his eye, when we 
 administer baptism in the name of the 
 Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy 
 Ghost. But when we come to the ques- 
 tion as to what parties may be duly 
 made the subjects of this sacrament, we 
 can no longer plead express and unequi- 
 
102 
 
 THE POWER OF THE EYE. 
 
 vocal direction. Of course, those who are 
 of ripe age, and make satisfactoi-y con- 
 fession of faith, must on all hands be 
 regarded as fit to be sprinkled with the 
 regenerating waters. But what is to be 
 said of children, too young themselves 
 to know anything of Christianity, and 
 who, if they profess faith at all, must do 
 it by the mouths of parents or sponsors 1 
 You are aware that this has been a 
 much litigated question : and though we 
 of the Established Church enjoin the 
 baptism of infants as " most agreeable 
 with the institution of Christ." we do 
 not profess to say that it is distinctly 
 prescribed in the Bible. But perhaps 
 there is the guidance of the eye, even 
 if there be nothing more distinct. 
 There may be some intimations from 
 which to infer what will be most pleas- 
 ing to Christ ; and it will be the part of 
 the affectionate and obedient to act upon 
 these. We turn, then, to the New Tes- 
 tament : we find a very touching narra- 
 tive of the bringing of young children 
 to Jesus, that He might lay his hands 
 upon them and bless them. The disci- 
 ples rebuked those who brought them, 
 no doubt imagining that only adults 
 were fit subjects for their Master's bene- 
 diction. But we are told that when 
 Christ saw it, He was much displeased ; 
 He directed immediately that the chil- 
 dren should be brought to Him ; and 
 then — a circumstance which indicates 
 that they were very young, probably 
 quite infants — " He took them up in his 
 arms, put his hands upon them and bless- 
 ed them." 
 
 Now, we are far enough from saying, 
 that this beautiful incident furnishes de- 
 cisive witness in favor of the baptism 
 of infants : we have already intimated 
 that we do not think that such witness 
 is to be found in the Bible. But we 
 certainly regard the incident as showing 
 which of two things is the more likely 
 to be agreeable to Christ : baptism is 
 the instituted mode through which indi- 
 viduals are brought to Him to be bless- 
 ed ; and if Ho have not prescribed the 
 age at which this sacrament may be ad- 
 ministered, yet by blessing the very 
 youngest, whilst He sojourned upon 
 earth, He may be thought to have in- 
 dicated that the very youngest are wel- 
 come, now that He has entered into 
 heaven. There is no decisive argument 
 here for the rigid controversialist, who 
 
 may tell us, and tell us truly, that the 
 incident in question has no immediate or 
 necessary connexion with baptism : but 
 there is a very touching intimation to 
 the earnest lover of his Lord, who is 
 all anxiety to know what is likely to 
 please Him best. In the absence of ex- 
 press command, I may learn something 
 from that look of displeasure which 
 Christ threw on those who would have 
 kept infants from Him ; and this we 
 call being guided by the eye, where no 
 voice can be heard ; and we learn from 
 our text, that it is by the eye, as well 
 as by the voice, that God would have 
 his Church instructed and led. 
 
 Neither is this a solitary instance of 
 guidance by the eye, though we have 
 not space to enlarge on any other. It is 
 by the eye that we are guided to the 
 keeping holy the first day of the week: 
 if you will yield to nothing but a posi- 
 tive command for this observance, you 
 will not find it in the New Testament ; 
 but if you can take indirect intimations, 
 if you can act on what we may call the 
 looks of your Master, you will have no 
 difficulty in confessing the obligation of 
 the Christian Sabbath. 
 
 We should be inclined to advance 
 much the same statement in respect of 
 Church government. We will not say 
 that our own ecclesiastical system, 
 though modelled after that of the early 
 Church, is laid down with such precision 
 in Scripture, that there cannot be de- 
 bate as to its correctness and authority. 
 So far as the Bible is concerned, it may 
 not be by the voice of God that we are 
 directed to have three orders in the mi- 
 nistry, the bishop, the priest, and the 
 deacon. But if it be not by the voice, 
 ic may be by the eye, of God, that we 
 are guided herein. You may not find 
 in the New Testament such explicit di- 
 rections in regard of an ecclesiasti- 
 cal constitution as leave no room for 
 doubt ; but there may be — and we 
 thoroughly feel that there arc — intima- 
 tions, and allusions, and hints, which 
 show a probability in favor of that 
 constitution which we regard as apos- 
 tolic : and ought not this probability, 
 like the expression of the countenance 
 of a well-beloved friend, to determine 
 our conduct in the absence of direct 
 command, whether by letter or speech ] 
 
 It is the drift of all these observations 
 on the indirect evidence which Scripture 
 
THE POWER OF THE EYE. 
 
 103 
 
 may furnish to certain matters, whether heaven, a letter in which there may he 
 of doctrine or discipline, to put you on hints as well as commands, wishes ob- 
 your guard against a hai-d, dogmatical I scurely intimated as well as precepts 
 temper, a temper which will take nothing i unequivocally expressed. Take it up in 
 
 but on rigid demonstration, and reject 
 probability where it cannot gain cer- 
 tainty. There is a gi-eat difference be- 
 tween the proof which may be expect- 
 ed to convince a mere reasoner, and 
 that which should suffice for the guid- 
 ance of a warm-hearted disciple. If the 
 child, to whose case we have before re- 
 ferred, were to put his parent's letter 
 into the hands of a stranger, of a shrewd 
 man of the world, who will look at 
 nothing but its actual expressions, he 
 might be told that there was very little 
 in the document to which he could be 
 required to attend. But the child him- 
 self, intent only on discovering the pa- 
 rent's mind, searches out notices which 
 the stranger overlooks, and of which, 
 when shown to him, he declares that he 
 cannot see the obligation. It may be 
 that the child might be held excusable 
 in disregarding: the notices, if the matter 
 turned upon evidence, and nothing were 
 binding which could not be mathemati- 
 cally proved. But the child's desire is 
 simply to do what the parent will ap- 
 prove ; and affection will make him keen- 
 
 the spirit of love and of simple anxiety 
 to discover, that you may obey, the will 
 of the Lord. Take it up, not that you 
 may become more accomplished deba- 
 ters, but more consistent disciples ; and 
 then, it may be, will a hundred little gen- 
 tle and delicate allusions present them- 
 selves to your notice, home-touches 
 which none but a Father can give, and 
 none but a child can detect. Yea, you 
 may come to feel, as you peruse the sa- 
 cred page, not only as though you were 
 hearkening to the voice, but as though 
 you were studying the countenance of 
 your Creator and Redeemer; and you 
 will understand more and more of the 
 beauty and power of the promise, " I 
 will guide thee with mine eye." 
 
 Now all which we have advanced would 
 probably have been strengthened, had 
 we swerved a little from the strict order 
 of our discourse, and bi'ought the dis- 
 position, against which the Psalmist 
 warns his hearers, into contrast with 
 that which is indirectly commended by 
 the voice from the oracle. Those who 
 will yield to nothing but mathematical 
 
 sighted, when, on the principles of j demonstrations, may be likened to ani- 
 logic, there may be nothing to point out mals who must be ruled by bridle and bit. 
 a course. And you would all be ready j There is in Scripture much that is adapted 
 to convict the child of a want of due for the management of the restive and 
 love for his parent, if he treated the stubborn ; but its general character is 
 letter just as he might a series of geo- that of a document designed for the do- 
 metrical demonstrations, admitting no cile and meek ; and accordingly much 
 conclusion unless he had established | of its instruction will be missed, if you 
 every step in the premises, and allowing ; yield only to the hand, and will not fol- 
 no weight to any inference or suggestion *low the eye. We shall not, however, 
 
 which could not be made good by the 
 strict rules of a syllogism. 
 
 We bid you therefore be on the watch, 
 that you carry not to your daily reading 
 of the Bible the temper which would be 
 so ungracious in the supposed case of 
 the child. If you are called upon to 
 argue with the sceptical and disputatious, 
 you must arm yourselves with the ex- 
 plicit statements which are meant for the 
 hard and unbelieving ; for it would be 
 useless to adduce the indirect intimations, 
 which belong only to the gentle and af- 
 fectionate. But do not always, when 
 you take up the Bible, take it up as men 
 who have a battle to fight, and who must 
 look out for weapons. Take it up as 
 the letter from your Father which is in 
 
 pursue this point further : we have 
 probably said enough to put you on your 
 guard as to the temper with which the 
 Bible should be studied; and we must 
 turn to other illustrations of our text, 
 which are scarcely, if it all, of less in- 
 terest and impoi'tance. 
 
 We would observe to you, that there 
 are few doctrines with which the Chris- 
 tian would be less willing to part, than 
 with that of a particular providence, a 
 providence of which himself individual- 
 ly is unweariedly the object, so that the 
 minutest thing: which concerns him is 
 noted and ordered from above. We all 
 know how easy and common it :s to 
 throw contempt on this doctrine, and in 
 so doing to assume all the appea ranee 
 
104 
 
 THE POWER OF THE EYE. 
 
 of a zeal for God's honor, and of a dis- 
 like of human pride. It may be urged 
 to be inconsistent with the majesty of 
 the Supreme Ruler of the universe, that 
 He should give a close attention to all 
 die petty details of the life of some in- 
 considerable party : or it may be de- 
 clared to savor of arrogance and pre- 
 sumption, to imagine that the trifling 
 and cvery-day incidents which happen 
 to ourselves, proceed in any measure 
 from the direct appointment or interfer- 
 ence of God. And we have no wish to 
 <leuy that men have sometimes so spoken 
 of a particular providence, and asserted 
 6uch evidences in their own histories or 
 cases, as to justify in a degree the ridicule 
 ■which has been cast upon the doctrine. 
 But, nevertheless, we feel quite war- 
 ranted in holding, from the necessary 
 attributes of God, and from the express 
 statements of Scripture, that the Divine 
 providence is as large as even imagina- 
 tion can make it, extending itself to 
 every affair of every being throughout 
 the peopled immensity. There cannot 
 be to God, the infinite and uncreated, 
 any of those differences between great 
 and small which there are to ourselves ; 
 and if not even the sparrow can fall un- 
 observed, who will suppose that there 
 can be anything too insignificant to attract 
 the notice, or engage the watchfulness, 
 of the Universal Parent 1 We would 
 have the Christian never ashamed of 
 referring to God the most inconsidera- 
 ble events, and of looking for his hand 
 in what is thought trivial and ordinary. 
 He is not degrading God, he is not 
 forming an unworthy opinion of God, 
 when he supposes that this mighty and 
 inscrulahle Being, who formed the uni- 
 verse at first, and who has ever since 
 upheld and actuated its stupendous me- 
 chanism, is about his path, and about 
 bis bed, watching his every step, and 
 noting his every want, just as though he 
 alone were dependent on Deity, or alone 
 needed the being tended by an ever- 
 vigilant guardian. The unworthy opin- 
 ion of God is entertained and exhibited, 
 if lie look for his hand only in some ex- 
 traordinary occurrence, if he remove 
 from his inspection what may be thought 
 every-day trifles, and suppose it confined 
 to events which may affect the whole 
 course of life. This is just bringing 
 God down to the level of man : for this 
 is giving Him the same scale by which 
 
 to measure importance. Whereas, by 
 supposing nothing too minute for the 
 providence of God, we set Him immea- 
 surably above ourselves, at a point so 
 elevated, that He cannot recognize our 
 distinctions, but regards as of equal di- 
 mensions what to our view appears vast 
 and what inconsiderable. 
 
 And, therefore, let the Christian never 
 fear that he may be offering an indignity 
 to the majesty of God, if, in all the de- 
 tails of his business, and in all the man- 
 agement of his household, he be ever 
 on the look-out for signs of the Divine 
 presence, and if he expect to be taught 
 and assisted from above, in directing 
 common affairs, avoiding common dan- 
 gers, and compassing common ends. He 
 should rather fear that he may be offend- 
 ing that Being whose favor is life, if he 
 ever think any thing so easy that it can 
 be done in his own strength, or any thing 
 so simple that his own wisdom will suf- 
 fice. And we are quite assured — for 
 this is the point to which these remarks 
 are to bring you — that, if there be a 
 habit ofobserving the indications of God's 
 Providence, or of looking for his hand 
 in daily occurrences, there will quickly 
 be found evidence that He is indeed 
 always at our side, that whatsoever hap- 
 pens to us proceeds from his appointment, 
 and is removed, far as the east from the 
 west, from what is called accident. If 
 you do not cherish such a habit, you 
 may have no consciousness of the inter- 
 ference of God except in some signal 
 crisis, when a great disaster is permitted 
 or averted, or when some great change 
 passes over the whole aspect of your 
 affairs. There are times in almost every 
 man's history, at which he owns the 
 workings of God, and events which force 
 upon his notice the facts of the Divine 
 Providence and government. But once 
 possess yourselves of the doctrine of an 
 universal Providence, and carry the doc- 
 trine with you into every-day life, resting 
 on its truth, and looking for its evidence, 
 and we can be sure, that, in the unravel- 
 ling of little perplexities, in the scatter- 
 ing of little clouds, in the smoothing of 
 little difficulties, in the communication 
 of little benefits, you will find as con- 
 vincing proof that an omniscient omni- 
 present Being is busied with your guid- 
 ance, as though life were a series of 
 miracles, and every moment saw you 
 openly snatched from the jaws of a new 
 
THE POWER OF THE EYE. 
 
 105 
 
 peril. And to those who accustom them- 
 selves in all humility to this tracing in 
 every thing the Providence of'God, there 
 will be vouchsafed such guidance through 
 the bearing of events, such intimations 
 in the form and complexion of common 
 occurrences, as will generally suffice to 
 keep them in the best path, when less 
 watchful persons would be at a loss for 
 direction. He who is always noting the 
 Divine Providence, will grow so used to 
 its workings, as to be able, in a measure, 
 to prepare for the future from what he 
 has marked in the past and the present. 
 And it is all this which is so beauti- 
 fully indicated by the promise of our 
 text. It is not simply a promise that 
 the eye of God shall be upon us ; for 
 that were only a declaration, hovever 
 striking and expressive, of the universal 
 Providence of Him who neither slumbers 
 nor sleeps. It is a promise that we shall 
 be guided by this eye : but such a pro- 
 mise supposes us to be looking at the 
 eye : it is not enough for the purposes 
 of guidance, that the eye be fixed on us : 
 our own eye must also be fixed upon 
 God : and it is only, so to speak, when 
 the two eyes meet, that we can gather 
 instruction as to the way in which to walk. 
 And again must we remind you of the 
 difference between the voice and the eye. 
 If God promised to guide us with his 
 voice, our being guided might not depend 
 on our being always on the watch. The 
 voice might force attention from the 
 careless : it is not indispensable that we 
 be always in a listening posture, in order 
 to our catching the words of a speaker. 
 But the case is altogether different, if we 
 are to be guided by the eye. Here the 
 looking posture is altogether indispen- 
 sable ; and it is only so far as this posture 
 is rigidly maintained that we can learn 
 from the directing glance which turn to 
 take. 
 
 So that, if you dismiss for a moment the 
 figurative expression, and think only on 
 the truth which the emblem conveys, you 
 are taueht that those who would be led 
 by their Maker, must be ever on tne 
 watch for intimations of his will, not ex- 
 pecting notices such as even the least 
 observant must mark, but such rather as 
 all but the vigilant may readily overlook. 
 In the little turns and shiftings of every- 
 day things, in the motions, as it were, of 
 leaves, and in the fallings of the dew, 
 must they be tracing the unwearied 
 
 Providence of the Almighty, and reading 
 his directions to themselves. These are 
 his glances, the expressions of his coun- 
 tenance, the movements of his eye. Oh ! 
 not when He is walking the heaven in 
 his magnificence, robed in hurricane, and 
 speaking in thunder, is He leading man 
 with his eye ; but rather when in the 
 solitude of a cottage, He is showing some 
 prayerful and simple-hearted peasant, to 
 whom every sprig shoots by God, and 
 every pin falls by God, how he may best 
 extricate himself from a difficulty, or 
 provide against a calamity. You know 
 not how you are involving yourselves in 
 perplexities, and depriving yourselves of 
 comfort, through the not cultivating such 
 a habit of communion with God, as would 
 cause you to feel continually in his pre- 
 sence, and directed by his Providence. 
 You oblige Him, as it were, to use harsh 
 measures with you, to compel your at- 
 tention by something startling and severe, 
 because you will not observe those gentle 
 indications of his nearness, those quiet 
 suggestions of his will, which, like a ges- 
 ture or a glance, are not the less expres- 
 sive, because so tranquil and silent. And 
 our earnest desire for you is, that you 
 may not only be brought to the feeling 
 that God's eye is ever upon you — for this 
 might merely produce uneasiness, the 
 sense of being watched — but that you 
 may habitually be observant of that eye, 
 so that, whilst it rests on you in unwea- 
 ried inspection, yours may rest on it in 
 unwearied expectation. You quite 
 know, you quite feel, what would be 
 meant, were we to speak of an indi- 
 vidual as guided by the eye of a parent 
 or kinsman. You would understand at 
 once that the parent or kinsman, though 
 he might occasionally deliver explict di- 
 rections, more frequently gave nothing 
 but silent intimations, leaving his wishes 
 to be gathered from minute signs, and 
 momentary tokens, which would not es- 
 cape the keenness of affection, though 
 they might be wholly overlooked by the 
 unattached hireling. 
 
 There is a great deal said as to the 
 language of the eye : and if you think 
 for a moment on the look which Christ 
 cast upon Peter, when he had just ut- 
 tered his third and vehement denial, a 
 look which quite subdued the recreant 
 Apostle, and sent him forth to seek a 
 place where he might weep in an agony 
 of shame and remorse, you will admit 
 
 14 
 
106 
 
 THE POWER OF THE EYE. 
 
 that this language may indeed be mar- 
 vellously powerful, and go as deep into 
 the heart as the most penetrating that 
 ever proceeds from the tongue. By and 
 through this language, as we have just 
 said, may a child or a friend be effec- 
 tually guided ; and you have no diffi- 
 culty in understanding the terms, so to 
 speak, on which the child and parent 
 are, if we say that the looks of the one 
 are sufficient for the direction of the 
 other. And we wish that it might be 
 thus between you and God. We wish 
 that you might not be those cold and 
 hard-minded servants, who mu^t have 
 every word written down before they 
 will comply, and who think themselves 
 required to do nothing for which there 
 is not, in so many syllables, a direction 
 which it is impossible to overlook 01 
 evade. We wish you rather to be like 
 one of those devoted sous and daugh- 
 ters, who gaze on the countenance of 
 the one whom they love and revere, 
 eager to save him, as it were, the trouble 
 of speaking, and to learn his wishes ere 
 they can be breathed. We desire this 
 for you, not merely because it is far bet- 
 ter for you to stand to God in the rela- 
 tion of children than of servants, but 
 because it is the Divine method to teach 
 much through a look, and therefore you 
 may remain uninstructed if you will take 
 only winds. There are striking and 
 startling appointments of the Providence 
 of God, and these are his voice ; but 
 there are noiseless and more common 
 orderings of that Providence, and these 
 are his glance. If you will only attend 
 to the former, you will wander in a 
 wrong path, till scared as by the shout 
 of a toe : but if you are habitually regard- 
 ful of the latter, you can scarcely fail to 
 feel always under the leadings of a friend. 
 For dome with us now, and let us go 
 with David to the oracle, that we may 
 hear, in sounds breathed from the reces- 
 ses of the sancluiry, in what way God 
 will promise to lead on his people. We 
 prostrate ourselves before the mysterious 
 shrine, and we propose, in reverence and 
 humility, our question as to the mode in 
 which, sojourners as we are on earth, 
 we may look to be directed by Him 
 who dwelleth in the heaven-;. " Lord of 
 all power and might, wilt Thou inform 
 us of thy will, through the fearful tread 
 of thy feet, as Thou dost pais through 
 the fields of immensity ; or through the 
 
 waving of thine arm, as Thou dost mar- 
 shal before thee, and around thee, the 
 troop of brilliant stars ; or through the 
 rushings of thy voice, heard above all 
 human sound, whose whisper raised an 
 universe, and could reduce it into no- 
 thingness ] Is it thus, in modes which 
 even the careless must observe, and the 
 proud cannot mistake, that Thou wilt 
 make known thy pleasure to those whom 
 Thou dost love ] " Nay — it is a still 
 small voice which is breathed responsive-* 
 ly from the oracle, the quietness of tone 
 indicating the nature of the reply : and 
 never henceforwards let us expect di- 
 rection in our difficulties, and instruc- 
 tion in our ignorance, if we do not habit- 
 uate ourselves to the momentarily wait- 
 ing upon God, as those who feel, that in 
 missing a glance, they may miss a lesson, 
 seeing that the still small voice gives 
 utterance to this promise, " I will guide 
 thee with mine eye." 
 
 Now you cannot have failed to ob- 
 serve, that, throughout this examination 
 into the promise of guidance which pro- 
 ceeds from the oracular voice, we have 
 been insisting on the necessity of a meek 
 and teachable disposition. The whole 
 bent of our discourse has been towards 
 the showing you, that the promise, made 
 on God's part, supposes on our own a 
 particular temper and habit, so that it 
 can only take effect where this temper 
 and habit exist. You cannot be too fre- 
 quently reminded of this peculiarity in 
 the passage — there cannot be guidance 
 by the eye, unless there be constant at- 
 tention in the one party, as well as con- 
 stant superintendence in the other. And 
 when you have observed that the pro- 
 mise virtually inculcates a particular dis- 
 position, the disposition of watchfulness, 
 of readiness to note God's hand in the 
 minutest occurrences, and to search out 
 the lightest intimations of his will, you 
 must feel the force of the Psalmist's 
 admonition, which the oracular reply 
 caused him to address to the by-standers. 
 This admonition, as we have already re- 
 marked to you, warns against a disposi- 
 tion which is just the opposite to that 
 which the promise requires. If guided 
 by the eye, I am ready to follow the 
 most gentle indication of the will of my 
 leader; but I may refuse to be guided 
 by the eye; 1 may give no heed to a 
 look; and thus may I be like to the 
 horse, and the mule, which have no un- 
 
THE POWER OF THE EYE. 
 
 107 
 
 derstanding, and which will go only as 
 compelled by the bit and the bridle. 
 
 And you must see, that, founded as 
 the admonition is upon the promise, it 
 is implied that God desires to direct us 
 through quiet and tender dealings, and 
 that, if He have recourse to harsher, it 
 is because our obduracy and inattention 
 render needful such treatment. There 
 is something very affecting in this con- 
 sideration : God only knows how much 
 of severe discipline we bring upon our- 
 selves, through refusing to be taught 
 through the gentler. We now, you see, 
 take guidance by the eye, as indicating 
 a course of tender measures ; for though 
 undoubtedly there may be severity in a 
 look, yet guidance by the eye, as con- 
 trasted with guidance by the bridle and 
 the bit, 7nust be considered as expressive 
 of gentleness, in opposition to roughness 
 and force. God, if we would but per- 
 mit Him, would lead us by his eye, that 
 eye which is the light of an extended 
 creation, and from which, as it rests 
 complacently upon them in their ardent 
 waitings round his throne, the angel and 
 and the archangel draw their rich hap- 
 piness. " He doth not afflict willingly, 
 nor grieve the children of men : " and 
 we might almost say — if we did not fear 
 to attribute to God what consists not 
 with his perfections — that the eye whose 
 gentle glances we have refused to fol- 
 low, is dimmed with tears, when the 
 voice must speak sternly, and the hand 
 rise in chastisement. But, alas ! man, 
 in the expressive language of the book 
 of Job, is " born like the wild ass's colt ;" 
 and how is a look to tame what is so 
 restive and ungovernable 'I The look is 
 tried, but tried commonly without effect. 
 The glance of the eye is in the warm 
 sunbeam ; and the smile of the face is 
 on those many mercies which spread 
 gladness and peace through unbroken 
 families : but the sunbeam wakes no 
 love to God, and the mercies fail to at- 
 tract man to his Maker. 
 
 And what is to be done, whert in vain 
 hath God looked down from heaven, in 
 vain turned upon us his eye of loving- 
 kindness, hoping that we would mark 
 its beaming emanations, and trace them 
 back till we were lost in Himself? Shall 
 He leave us to run unrestrained in the 
 wilderness, goaded by our own passions, 
 and hastening to perdition 1 He loves 
 us too well for this : He would not have 
 
 us perish without an effort for our deliv- 
 erance. But since gentle means have 
 failed, He must now adopt harsh : the 
 hand must he tried, where the eye has 
 not succeeded, and the bridle be fasten- 
 ed, where the look has been scorned. 
 We pretend not to say that this might 
 be illustrated from the history of every 
 individual : but probably the cases are far 
 more frequent than are commonly sup- 
 posed, in which the guidance of the bit 
 has been made necessary by disobedience 
 to the guidance of the eye. Why has 
 poverty come, like an armed man, on an 
 individual who was long hlessed with 
 prosperity 1 Ah ! the prosperity which 
 was nothing but the graciousness of 
 God's countenance, did not lead Him to 
 the Author and Giver of every good gift 
 and of every perfect ; and therefore is 
 adversity being tried : perchance that 
 hard dealing will turn him from the 
 world, and direct him towards heaven. 
 Why has affliction come heavily on that 
 mother, who had garnered up her heart 
 in her only son, and now must see him 
 carried out to the grave 1 Ah ! her child, 
 in whom, as the sunny smile played upon 
 his face, she ought to have viewed the 
 reflected glance of her Maker, wooing her 
 to Himself, did but bind her to the pre- 
 sent world, in place of pointing her to a 
 brighter : and now she who gave no 
 heed to that look of Divine tenderness 
 which was embodied in her cherub-like 
 boy, must undergo the harsh processes of 
 constraint and correction, if peradven- 
 ture they may guide her to Him who 
 wounds only that He may heal. 
 
 It would not of course become us, as 
 we have already inched, to conclude, in 
 every case where we see the bridle em- 
 ployed, that it is employed only because 
 the eye has not been watched and obey- 
 ed. But still, when you observe how ex- 
 press are the assertions of Scripture as 
 to the unwillingness of God to apportion 
 pain to his creatures, you must allow 
 that suffering is permitted because no- 
 thin a: but suffering will suffice ; and you 
 may suppose, that, in general, the harsh 
 measure is not likely to be tried, till the 
 gentle has been tried without success. 
 
 And this is simply what we think in- 
 dicated by the promise in the first verse 
 of our text, when taken in connexion with 
 the admonition in the second. We leave 
 you to draw for yourselves the practical 
 inferences from our previous illustrations 
 
108 
 
 THE POWER OF THE EYE. 
 
 of the promise in question. We leave 
 you to conclude the necessity of a prompt 
 and teachable temper, if you would study 
 the Scriptures with profit, the temper of 
 those who are perusing a document from 
 one whom they love, who are anxious 
 only to ascertain his wishes, and who are 
 therefore as ready to act upon hints as 
 upon explicit commands. Neither do we 
 stay now to insist further on the import- 
 ance of seeking God's help in the very 
 smallest things, and of striving to trace 
 the leadings of his Providence in simple, 
 every-day occurrences. But this fresh 
 view of the promise, obtained from re- 
 garding it in connexion with the Psalm- 
 ist's admonition, is so rife with touching 
 interest and instruction, that we must en- 
 treat you to be stedfastin its contempla- 
 tion, and faithful in its remembrance. 
 If we would preserve our blessings, we 
 must see to it that these blessings conduct 
 us to God. This is the inference, this the 
 lesson. We may consider mercies as the 
 beamings of the Almighty's eye, when 
 the light of his countenance is lifted up 
 upon us ; and that man is guided by the 
 eye, whom mercies attract and attach to 
 his Maker. But oh ! let us refuse to be 
 guided by the eye, and it will become 
 needful that we be curbed with the hand. 
 If we abuse our mercies, if we forget, 
 their Author, and yield Him not grate- 
 fully the homage of our affections, we 
 do but oblige Him, by his love for our 
 souls, to apportion us disaster and trouble. 
 Complain not, then, that there is so much 
 of sorrow in your lot ; but consider 
 rather how much of it you may have wil- 
 fully brought upon yourselves. Listen 
 to the voice of God, " I will guide thee 
 with mine eye " — mine eye whose glance 
 gilds all that is beautiful, whose li <gHt 
 disperses all darkness, prevents all dan- 
 ger, diffuses all happiness. And why 
 then is it that ye are sorely disquieted 'I 
 why is it that " fear and the pit " arc 
 so often upon you ; that one blessing 
 after another disappears from your cir- 
 cle ; and that God seems to deal with 
 you as with the wayward and unruly, on 
 whom any thing of gentleness would be 
 altogether lost '{ Ah ! if you would ac- 
 count for many mercies that have de- 
 parted, if you would insure permanence 
 to those that are yet left, examine how 
 deficient you may hitherto have been, 
 and strive to be more diligent for the 
 future, in obeying an admonition which 
 
 implies that we should be guided by the 
 soft lustres of the eye, if our obduracy 
 did not render indispensable the harsh 
 constraints of the rein, " Be ye not as 
 the horse, or as the mule, whose mouth 
 must be held in with bit and bridle." 
 
 And, now, have we any other illus- 
 tration to offer of our text, or any other 
 inference to deduce from it, whether of 
 doctrine or reproof] Indeed, we know 
 not that there yet remains any other im- 
 portant view of a passage which, though 
 easily overlooked, seems to us amongst 
 the most touching and expressive to be 
 found in the Bible. But in pondering 
 the words on which we have discoursed, 
 and considering their bearings on other 
 parts of Scripture, we could not help 
 connecting them with that awful cry in 
 the book of Revelation, which is uttered 
 by the impenitent when overtaken by 
 judgment, and which passionately in- 
 vokes shelter from the rocks and the 
 hills, that there may be concealment 
 from the face of Him who si* upon the 
 throne. We are always much struck at 
 the power thus ascribed to the face. It 
 is said of the Judge, in a most sublime 
 expression, " From whose face the earth 
 and the heaven fled away ; " and it is 
 from the face, as we have just quoted, 
 that the shrieking crowd implore the 
 beinof hid. It is as though a look would 
 then be enough : there will be no need 
 for the tongue : the eye will condemn, 
 and send forth consternation throughout 
 the hosts of the rebellious. And if God 
 be ready now to guide us with his eye, 
 and if hereafter, supposing us to follow 
 some other leader, we shall shrink from 
 his eye, have we not riot an exemplifi- 
 cation of retributive justice, an evidence 
 how thoroughly abused mercies, and 
 neglected privileges, will rise up as wit- 
 nesses against us, so that the Divine 
 dealings with us here shall have only to 
 be arrayed, in order t.o our sinking, self- 
 sentenced, into the pit of the lost/ The 
 eye which is upon the sinful now to 
 conduct, will be upon them to condemn ; 
 and however easy it may be to resist the 
 guidance of that eye whilst it beams forth 
 in tenderness, it will be impossible to 
 withstand its decree of banishment when 
 lit up with anger. Yes, it may be the 
 terrible tiling at the judgment, to be 
 forced to look on our benefactor, to be- 
 hold Him face to face, to meet, his eye! 
 Any thing rather than this — even now, 
 
PILATE S WIFE. 
 
 109 
 
 if we have been ungrateful to a friend, 
 if we have slighted his kindness and re- 
 paid it with injury, we are troubled by 
 his glance, and would do much to avoid 
 the reproachful yet sorrowful expres- 
 sion of bis countenance. And to see 
 hereafter that gracious Being who has 
 unweariedly studied our good, who has 
 spared no pains that He might turn us 
 from evil, who has striven by all imagin- 
 able means to lead us to happiness, to 
 see Him, and know Him, with the frown 
 upon his brow — terror of terrors ! 
 Even love is armed against us, and we 
 
 feel in an instant all the anguish of de- 
 spair. " Be ye not as the horse or as the 
 mule," — with what emphasis come these 
 words, when we think on the eye of 
 Clod as passing sentence, by its glance 
 of reproach, on the scornful and the ob- 
 durate. " I will guide thee with mine 
 eye " — can these gracious syllables be 
 ever taken as a threat 'I Alas ! yes. 
 That eye would now guide you, by its 
 look of love, to the kingdom of heaven; 
 but resist it, and that eye shall direct 
 you, by its look of wrath, to the " fire 
 prepared for the devil and his angels." 
 
 SERMON XIII. 
 
 PILATE'S WIFE. 
 
 " When he was set down on the jndgnient seat, his wife sent unto him, saying, Have thou nothing to do with that 
 just man: for I have suffered many tilings this day in a dream because of him." — Matt, xxvii. 19. 
 
 We need hardly tell you that these 
 words have reference to Pilate, the Ro- 
 man governor of Judea, by whose direc- 
 tion or consent our blessed Lord was 
 crucified. There have been many dis- 
 putes in regard of certain parts of Pilate's 
 conduct ; but all seem to agree in con- 
 demning him, on the whole, as having act- 
 ed with signal injustice. He would seem 
 to have been a weak as well as a wicked 
 person : at least, his wickedness forced 
 him to assume all the appearance of 
 weakness — for having irritated and dis- 
 gusted the Jewish people, over whom 
 he was set, by extortion and cruelty, he 
 was in dread lest their complaints should 
 procure his removal from his govern- 
 ment ; and therefore he did not dare to 
 thwart their will, even when acknowl- 
 edging- to himself its baseness and un- 
 reasonableness. You observe, through- 
 out the whole account of Pilate's deal- 
 
 ings with Christ, that he was thoroughly 
 satisfied as to the innocence of the 
 prisoner, and the malice of his accusers. 
 The more he examined Him, the more 
 does he seem to have deepened in the 
 conviction that there was no fault in 
 Him, and to have become anxious to 
 procure his enlargement. And when 
 at length he yielded, and gave up Je- 
 sus to the will of his persecutors, it 
 was avowedly because overborne by the 
 cry for his destruction, and in no degree 
 because persuaded of his being worthy 
 of death. 
 
 There never perhaps was a more sin- 
 gular scene than that exhibited when 
 the governor surrendered up our Lord. 
 Wishing to show by a most significative 
 action his firm belief in the innocence of 
 Christ, Pilate " took water, and washed 
 his hands before the multitude, saying, 
 I am innocent of the blood of this just 
 
110 
 
 PILATE S WIFE. 
 
 person: seeyetoit." What a scene! the 
 judge acquits the prisoner, and at the same 
 time delivers Him to death. He wishes 
 to have no share in the murder about 
 to be committed, though it could not 
 be committed but by his order or concur- 
 rence. Alas! for human inconsistency : 
 Pilate is not the only man, who whilst 
 sinning against conscience, has contriv- 
 ed some excuse, and thought both to do 
 the deed and prevent its consequences. 
 But how striking was the testimony 
 given to our Lord. He was to die as a 
 malefactor : but who ever died as a 
 malefactor, before or since, with the 
 judge's verdict in his favor of his being 
 a "just person 1 " It was wondrously 
 ordered by God, that the enemies of 
 Christ should be witnesses to his right- 
 eousness. Judas, who betrayed Him, 
 could furnish no accusation, and handed 
 himself through remorse when He saw 
 Him condemned. Pilate who allowed 
 his crucifixion, stood forward amongst 
 the multitude who were clamorous for 
 his death, and declared, even whilst 
 consenting to their wish, that He who 
 called Himself their King had done 
 nothing to justify his being made their 
 victim. But the testimony thus borne 
 to the Redeemer, however irresistible, 
 in no degree takes off from the sin of 
 those, who, having given it, were ac- 
 cessory to his death. Indeed, so far as 
 Pilate is concerned, it is very evident 
 that what makes him immeasurably 
 guilty, is the consciousness, which he 
 took no pains to conceal, of the perfect 
 innocence of Clmst. Had he had his 
 doubts, had he felt, that, though appear- 
 ances were in favor of our Lord, there 
 were circumstances of which the Jews 
 were better judges than himself, and 
 which might perhaps warrant his con- 
 demnation, there would have been some 
 shadow of excuse for his yielding to 
 the importunity of the priests and the 
 people. But not a syllable of the kind 
 can be alleged. The Roman governor 
 was as certain of Christ's innocence as 
 of his own existence : he had not the 
 remotest suspicion that He might be 
 guilty of anything which merited death : 
 and therefore, in suffering Him to be 
 crucified, he passed his own condemna- 
 tion, and registered his sentence as wil- 
 fully unjust, having by his vices so 
 placed himself in the power of the 
 wicked, that, in spite of the upbraidings 
 
 of conscience, he must join them in 
 their wickedness. 
 
 We speak, you observe, of the up- 
 braidings of conscience : for the ob- 
 servable thing is, that this great princi- 
 ple was not dormant in Pilate, but, on 
 the contrary, acted with faithfulness and 
 vigor. Whatever the sensuality and 
 tyranny of this Roman, he had evident- 
 ly not succeeded in silencing conscience : 
 he had not reached the state, sometimes 
 reached by the wicked, when wrong 
 actions seem preceded by no repug- 
 nance, and followed by no remorse. 
 Through all the proceedings against Je- 
 sus in which he had part, there was 
 manifestly a great struggle in his breast ; 
 and it was only a sense of danger, the 
 fear of offending the people, and of 
 giving ground for an accusation of neg- 
 lect of the interests of Caesar, which 
 finally prevailed against the sense of 
 what was right, and induced him to con- 
 sent to the crucifixion of Christ. And 
 this it is, as we have said, which fixes 
 upon Pilate so enormous a criminality. 
 Though backed by his legions so that 
 he might have repressed any tumult ex- 
 cited by his refusal to do wrong, he 
 knowingly and wilfully committed an 
 act of monstrous injustice and cruelty, 
 in the hope of obtaining a transient 
 popularity, or averting a momentary 
 anger. He could hardly have been ig- 
 norant that the very multitude, which 
 were now vociferating " Crucify him, 
 crucify him," had, but a few days be- 
 fore, rent the air with their hosannahs 
 as Christ entered Jerusalem ; and he 
 might therefore have calculated that, if 
 he shielded Jesus for a while from the 
 popular fury, he should see Him again 
 the object of the popular favor. But 
 no : he would run no risk : and, there- 
 fore, like many others who sacrifice the 
 future to the present, he crushed his 
 conscience and himself by the same 
 desperate act. 
 
 Neither is this all : we do not think 
 that the enormity of Pilate is to be es- 
 timated from the mere resistance of con- 
 science. There is a circumstance in the 
 narrative of this guilty man, which scarce- 
 ly seems to us to obtain its due share of 
 attention, but which, in our view of the 
 matter, asfs-Tavates immeasurably his 
 crime. And this is the circumstance 
 related in our text, which is omitted in- 
 deed by the other Evangelists, and re- 
 
PILATE S WIFE. 
 
 Ill 
 
 ceives no comment even from St. Mat- 
 thew. At the very moment that he sat 
 down on the judgment seat, already per- 
 suaded of the innocence of Christ, hut 
 perplexed hy the clamor of the multi- 
 tude;, there came to Pilate a message 
 from his wife, a message of entreaty and 
 warning, declaratory of her having had 
 some fearful dream or vision in refer- 
 ence to Christ, and beseeching him to 
 take no measures against that just or 
 righteous man. We know nothing in 
 regard of Pilate's wife — she may have 
 before been inclined to the receiving Je- 
 sus as a Prophet ; or, which is the more 
 probable, she may have known or cared 
 nothing respecting Him, till, through a 
 supernatural visitation, she learnt his 
 innocence, and the peril of acting as his 
 enemy. This is comparatively unim- 
 portant. It is certain that God specially 
 interfered to work in her mind convic- 
 tion on these points, and that she in con- 
 sequence sent a distinct and urgent mes- 
 sage to her husband, which reached him 
 
 o i 
 
 at the critical moment when he was in- 
 clined to waver between what he felt to 
 be duty, and what he thought to be in- 
 terest. There is nothing told us as to 
 the manner in which Pilate received the 
 communication. But forasmuch as he 
 is described as taking increased pains 
 afterwards to prevail on the multitude 
 to forego their bloody purpose, we may 
 suppose that it was not without effect ; 
 but that, corroborating his own convic- 
 tion, it added to his earnestness to de- 
 liver Christ, and therefore to his guilti- 
 ness, when he nevertheless abandoned 
 Him. 
 
 And this, as we have stated, is, in our 
 view, the most singular circumstance in 
 what is narrated of Pilate, the most re- 
 markable in itself, and the most condem- 
 natory of the unjust and dissolute judge. 
 We do not know whether we shall be able 
 to make palpable to you all the instructive- 
 ness and energy contained in an inci- 
 dent to which you may not have been 
 wont to attach much importance. But 
 we will make the endeavor : we will 
 consider God as acting upon Pilate to 
 deter him from committing a great 
 crime, and therefore to leave him inex- 
 cusable in the commission ; and we 
 will strive to show you — and that too in 
 a manner which shall bring certain great 
 practical lessons home to yourselves — 
 how this was emphatically done, when 
 
 the wife of the Roman governor sent to 
 tell him of her vision, and to beseech 
 him that he would abstain from all vio- 
 lence asrainst that righteous man Chrst. 
 Now there is unquestionably a diffi- 
 culty in reconciling the foreknowledge, 
 and yet more the purposes of God with 
 the free agency, and therefore with the 
 responsibleness of man. It certainly is 
 not easy, and perhaps with our contract- 
 ed powers not possible, to understand 
 how men can be fully independent in 
 the doing, and therefore thoroughly 
 chargeable with the doing, things on 
 which God has loner before determined, 
 so that they are instruments in his 
 hands, and yet at the same time free 
 agents, following their own wills, and 
 answerable for all the consequences. 
 But there is abundant evidence from 
 Scripture, and also from the nature of 
 the case, that there is no human action 
 which is not foreseen by God, which is 
 not indeed so definitely pre-ascertained 
 that it can be reckoned on as though 
 fixed by an absolute decree, but which, 
 all the while, does not spring from the 
 unbiassed human will, unbiassed, we 
 mean, in such sense as to acquit God 
 altogether of being the author of evil. 
 We are to be especially careful that we 
 never reject either one of two truths, 
 because we may be unable to prove 
 their consistency : for the harmony of 
 two truths is itself a third truth ; and 
 whilst our faculties may be competent 
 to the determining the two. they may 
 fail us when we would advance to de- 
 termine the third. The foreknowledge, 
 and pre-determination of the Almighty 
 — this is a truth which reason and reve- 
 lation concur in setting forth. The li- 
 berty of human actions, so that each of 
 us is decided by his own will what to 
 do, and what to forbear — this is another 
 truth, demonstrable from the same 
 sources, and on the same testimony. 
 But the third truth — namely, that these 
 truths are, as all truths must be, per- 
 fectly consistent the one with the other 
 — we may, or may not, be able satisfac- 
 torily to establish this : but then you 
 must all see that our inability to advance 
 to a -higher demonstration, or to give 
 proof on a more intricate point, in no 
 degree affects what has been already ■ 
 determined, but rather leaves in their 
 integrity the positions which we suc- 
 ceeded in reaching. 
 
112 
 
 PILATE S WIFE. 
 
 You will find it very important to bear 
 this in mind in the study of Scripture : 
 for men are apt to think that they must 
 not only establish separate truths, but 
 prevail to the showing how harmonious- 
 ly they combine : and if baffled in this 
 latter endeavor, they will take it as evi- 
 dence of something wrong in their pre- 
 vious conclusions. Whereas this is far 
 enough from being necessarily the case : 
 they may have been quite right in the 
 respective things determined, though 
 those things form a paradox which they 
 are not able to remove : a jjaradox is 
 not necessarily a contradiction, but may 
 consist of true affirmations, each demon- 
 strable on its own grounds, though 
 there may be appearance of opposition 
 between the two. 
 
 And in regard to the particular case 
 which has given rise to these remarks, 
 you have evidence the most decisive, 
 that God has nothinorto do with causino- 
 the wicked actions which He overrules 
 or employs, but that all the guilt rests 
 with men, even when they appear in- 
 dispensable to the bringing round a 
 Divine purpose. You can imagine no- 
 thing more fixed or pi-edetermined, than 
 that Christ should be rejected by his 
 own nation, and finally put to death 
 through their instrumentality. To sup- 
 pose the Jews receiving, in place of re- 
 jecting, their Messiah, acknowledging 
 his pretensions, and giving Him their 
 allegiance instead of their scorn, is ap- 
 parently to suppose the Divine plan 
 frustrated, and the whole scheme of 
 our redemption brought to a stand. 
 Yet you know that Christ continued to 
 the end entreating his countrymen, en- 
 deavoring by every possible means to 
 lead them to repentance, dealing with 
 them as with those who were perfectly 
 free to own Him as their Savior, and 
 whose unbelief He ardently longed to 
 overcome. And you cannot doubt the 
 thorough honesty, if we may use the 
 word, of all the entreaty and exhorta- 
 tion brought to bear upon the Jews ; 
 though you may have a difficulty in un- 
 derstanding how they could be employ- 
 ed in the face of a known certainty that 
 the Jews would persevere in their wick- 
 edness, and that such perseverance was 
 the appointed instrumentality through 
 which would be wrought the oblation 
 of Christ. It is equally true that God 
 reckoned, so to speak, on the wicked- 
 
 ness of the Jews, so that, in one 
 sense, you might call their wickedness 
 fixed or unavoidable ; and that He 
 acted towards them as quite free to 
 choose, so that, in another sense, their 
 wickedness must have been altogether 
 wilful. And if you are perplexed by 
 any appearance of contrariety between 
 these statements, you are not, on that 
 account, as we have already explained, 
 to cast doubt on either the one or the 
 other ; for the truths of the wickedness 
 having been so foreknown that it might 
 be reckoned on as an instrument, and 
 of its having been so voluntary that it 
 was wrought against remonstrance, and 
 that remonstrance as sincere as it was 
 urgent, rest each on unquestionable 
 grounds, and are noways affected by 
 any difficulty in the proof of their 
 agreement. 
 
 And you have an equally, if not a 
 more, striking instance in the history of 
 Pilate. It was not enough, as you all 
 know, that Jesus should die ; He was to 
 die as a criminal, that He might exhaust 
 our curse through being made a curse 
 for us. And He had Himself expressly 
 marked out crucifixion as the mode of 
 his decease : so that to suppose Him 
 put to death in any othei manner would 
 be to suppose prophecy defeated, and 
 redemption unaccomplished. But He 
 could not have been crucified except 
 through the instrumentality of the Ro- 
 mans ; for it was a Roman, and not a 
 Jewish, mode of execution, and requir- 
 ed, in the largest sense, the authority of 
 the governor. So that here you have a 
 case in which you might almost say that 
 the wickedness of an individual was in- 
 dispensable to the purposes of God. 
 You cannot see how the plan of human 
 deliverance could have goue forward, on 
 the supposition that Pilate had been 
 firm in defending our Lord. It rested 
 altogether with Pilate whether or no 
 Christ should be crucified : and it rest- 
 ed, so to speak, on the crucifixion, 
 whether or no the world should be re- 
 deemed. And nevertheless there was 
 no leaving Pilate to himself, no with- 
 drawing from him the ordinary agencies 
 through which God is wont to influence 
 the will of his creatures. On the con- 
 trary, extraordinary agency was em- 
 ployed in addition to ordinary, as though 
 God had resolved to try every possible 
 means of withholding Pilate from the 
 
PILATE S WIFE. 
 
 113 
 
 gin which you pronounce indispensa- 
 ble : it was not enouorh. that conscience 
 Bhould be in full play, though this of it- 
 self might have proved that God was 
 not the author of the evil which He made 
 subservient to his purposes — a super- 
 natural vision was vouchsafed, and 
 God actually departed from the com- 
 mon course of his providence, that He 
 might warn the wavering Roman, and 
 strengthen him to do right. 
 
 We do not know that you can any- 
 where find a more singular fact. On the 
 one hand, you have the whole scheme 
 of redemption dependent, we may say, 
 on Pilate's ordering the crucifixion of 
 Christ; on the other, you have a direct 
 interference of God, to procure that 
 Pilate should order his release. There 
 is no denying the appearance of contra- 
 diction; but the known attributes of 
 God are our pledge that there is but the 
 appearance, and not the reality. We 
 must again have recourse to the rule 
 which has been established, and not 
 think it reason for questioning either of 
 two truths, that we cannot prove their 
 agreement, which is a third and a deep- 
 er. It was foreknown by God — and 
 the foreknowledge made the event as 
 certain as a positive decree — that Pi- 
 late would yield to the clamor of the 
 Jews, and surrender Christ to their ma- 
 lice. But this did not prevent God 
 from usingr extraordinary as well as or- 
 dinary means to procure the opposite 
 result, and keep back Pilate from the 
 commission of an aggravated sin. You 
 may find it difficult to understand how 
 the foreknowledge could consist with 
 the endeavor to prevent ; but both are 
 definitely stated ; and neither is affected 
 by an apparent opposition to the other. 
 
 And the great practical truth which 
 ought to be derived from such an in- 
 stance is, that, however our actions have 
 been foreknown and overruled by God, 
 we shall be answerable for them, as re- 
 sulting from our own will, and wrought 
 in opposition to sufficient warning and 
 instruction. God foreknows which of 
 you will perish ; and He may reckon 
 on the final impenitence of any one in 
 this assembly as a fixed, inevitable thing, 
 and employ it in some way as an instru- 
 ment for the effecting his purposes. 
 But nevertheless that individual is under 
 no invincible constraint : he is free to 
 choose : and his final impenitence will 
 
 result only from his own refusal to be 
 saved. And to make this clear, clear 
 hereafter before angels and men, God, 
 you may be sure, will act on that indi- 
 vidual through the agencies of his Gos- 
 pel, not letting him alone because bent 
 on destruction, but plying him with 
 warnings that he may be left without 
 excuse. The mere foreknowledge can 
 have no effect on the man's actions : if 
 it operated at all, it could only be as 
 withholding God from imparting as- 
 sistances which He foresaw would be 
 of no avail. But it does not thus ope- 
 rate : God evidently acts towards you as 
 if He foreknew nothing of your peni- 
 tence or impenitence, but had only the 
 part of a moral governor to perform, 
 who would furnish his subjects with 
 every inducement to do right, and cut off 
 from them every excuse fordoing wrong. 
 You may wonder how God can thus, as 
 it were, in one sense make no use of 
 his foreknowledge, whilst in another He 
 is ordering all his purposes by its 
 showings ; and you may feel, and per- 
 haps with great justice, that no created 
 being could persevere in using the 
 same means, where sure to fail, and 
 where sure to succeed. But God is not 
 a created being : his ways are not our 
 ways, neither are his thoughts our 
 thoughts. And you are to believe, how- 
 ever unable you may be to solve the 
 questions which the fact will suggest, 
 that God takes means to provide for its 
 being proved at the judgment, that those 
 very actions, which He had all along 
 foreseen and ordained to overrule, were 
 wrought in despite of the remonstrance 
 of his Spirit, and in opposition to as 
 much of restraining agency as could 
 possibly consist with human accounta- 
 bleness. 
 
 It will be impossible then, for any 
 one to take refuge in God's foreknowl- 
 edge of his sins, as having made them 
 unavoidable. The case of Pilate is a 
 witness ; and we may regard it as writ- 
 ten to prevent our entertaining the false 
 hope. You can imagine no instance in 
 which a man might more speciously 
 plead, that there lay a constraint upon 
 him, or that he was under a kind of ne- 
 cessity to commit a great sin. What, 
 when the sin was to be instrumental to 
 the redemption of humankind, when it 
 had entered from all eternity into the 
 calculations of God, so that its preveri- 
 
 15 
 
114 
 
 PILATE S WIFE. 
 
 tion would have deranged the whole 
 scheme of deliverance, is the perpe- 
 trator to he visited with vengeance, as 
 though there were nothing to excuse 
 him in the predeterminations of which 
 the sin was the subject 1 Nay, there 
 was nothing to excuse him. He was 
 not forced to commit the sin through its 
 being foreknown that he would commit 
 it. The foreknowledge left him as free 
 as though there had been no foreknowl- 
 edge. It laid no weight upon con- 
 science ; for conscience was in full vi- 
 gor, and remonstrated with all the 
 energy of the vicegerent of God — ay, 
 and as though this had not been enough, 
 but the guilty Roman might have still 
 pleaded that there was not sufficient 
 motive to withhold him from the fore- 
 known commission, God departed from 
 every ordinary rule, interfered in a su- 
 pernatural manner, and caused that, so 
 soon as Pilate took his place on the judg- 
 ment seat, his wife sent to him to tell him 
 of a vision respecting Christ, and to 
 beseech him that he would have nothing 
 to do with that just or righteous man. 
 
 But we will now pass from the more 
 intricate to the simpler parts of our 
 subject, exhorting you, however, to pon- 
 der at your leisure the very remarkable 
 evidence which is furnished to your be- 
 ing accountable for actions which God 
 foresees and overrules, by there having 
 been a Divine interposition to withhold 
 Pilate, if possible, from crucifying 
 Christ. We wish now to bring you to 
 observe how the method used by God 
 was eminently fitted to prevail with the 
 Roman governor, and how, therefore, it 
 cut off all excuse when he gave up Je- 
 sus to the multitude. 
 
 It may at once occur to you as in some 
 respects singular, that the vision was to 
 Pilate's wife, and not to Pilate himself. 
 Why was there this indirect communi- 
 cation 1 Why, when the object was to 
 influence the mind of the governor, was 
 he not himself startled by portentous 
 dreams, and scared by terrible imagery, 
 flitting to and fro in the silence of the 
 night ] Would not the admonitions have 
 been more likely to prevail, if thus direct- 
 ly conveyed with every fearful accompa- 
 niment, than when received second-hand, 
 and therefore necessarily divested of 
 what gave them their impressiveness 1 
 We can only say, that this would greatly 
 depend on points in Pilate's character 
 
 with which we have not full acquaintance, 
 and that we are bound to conclude that 
 God took the course which was best 
 adapted, on the whole, to the circumstan- 
 ces of the case. You are to observe 
 that, as the supernatural message came 
 through Pilate's wife, there may have 
 been furnished a double motive to the 
 governor : in addition to obedience 
 to the vision, there may have been 
 the desire of pleasing the party to 
 whom it had been granted : and thus 
 the inducement, when you take the 
 two things together, may have been 
 stronger than had the dream been that of 
 Pilate himself. The attachment of Pilate 
 to his wife may have been great : they 
 may have been knit together by the 
 bonds of a very close affection : and on 
 such a supposition, it is possible, and 
 even probable, that the terrors of the 
 vision would have been more effective 
 upon Pilate, as conveyed to him through 
 the tears and entreaties of her whom he 
 loved, than had they burst upon him in 
 their unearthliness, with all the demon- 
 strations of superhuman agency. It 
 would not necessarily be so in every 
 case : but it is altogether supposable 
 that it might be so in a case of strong 
 personal attachment : and since we have 
 nothing from which to conclude that this 
 does not define the case of Pilate and 
 his wife, we must be warranted in 
 thinking that God took the course which 
 He adopted, because the Roman govern- 
 or was most accessible through the chan- 
 nel of his affections. 
 
 And it is on such a supposition, and 
 under such a point of view, that the in- 
 cident in question is most replete with 
 what is striking and instructive. We 
 have already said enough to prove to 
 you that God, in his dealings with Pilate, 
 was providing for his own vindication, 
 storing up the material of evidence that 
 this Roman sinned against light and con- 
 viction, and therefore brought upon him- 
 self all the guiltiness of actions which 
 were to subserve the most glorious of 
 purposes. Since the foreknown wicked- 
 ness of Pilate was to be instrumental to 
 the greatest end which even God Him- 
 self had ever proposed — the rescue of 
 this fallen creation — it would seem to 
 have been important that this wicked- 
 ness should be clearly shown to hare 
 been altogether wilful, resulting entirely 
 from the depravity of the creature, and 
 
PILATE S WIFE. 
 
 115 
 
 not at all from the determination of the 
 Creator. It was not therefore thought 
 sufficient, that conscience should give 
 forth its utterances with more than com- 
 mon distinctness : God would do some- 
 thing which should leave no place for 
 cavil, and which, if Pilate could with- 
 stand it, would but prove that nothing 
 consistent with human accountableness 
 would have withheld him from crucify- 
 ing Christ. And what shall this he 1 
 Something supernatural undoubtedly : 
 for God had before acted upon men 
 through visions and apparitions ; and, 
 therefore, whilst these were untried, it 
 could hardly be affirmed that the utmost 
 had been done in the instance of Pilate. 
 Shall then a spirit pass before Pilate, as 
 one had passed before Eliphaz, causing 
 his knees to tremble, and the hair of his 
 flesh to stand, up 1 or shall one of the 
 dead be disquieted, and rise as rose 
 Samuel in the cave of the sorceress? 
 Indeed, there shall be the employment 
 of vision, and imagery of terror shall be 
 used to impress the fearfulness of taking 
 part against Christ. But nevertheless, 
 the spirit shall not pass before Pilate 
 himself, and the forms of terror shall not 
 meet his own troubled gaze. God seeks 
 to make the communication yet more 
 effective than it could be made by the 
 wild phantom and the mysterious voice ; 
 and therefore He makes it not to Pilate, 
 but to Pilate's wife, to whom he was 
 linked by very strong attachment. He 
 made his final effort on this Roman — the 
 effort which was to give convincing de- 
 monstration at the judgment of Pilate's 
 inexcusableness — through the medium 
 of his affections, calculating that there 
 would be less power in the apparition 
 itself, than in the effect of that apparition 
 on one tenderly beloved ; and that even 
 if Pilate might throw off the influence of 
 a vision as sent in awfulness to himself, 
 he would yield to it when presented in 
 the fears and beseechings of her who had 
 his heart. And if this be a true account 
 of the proceeding in question ; if it were 
 to Pilate's wife, rather than to Pilate 
 himself, that the vision was sent, because 
 the assault was thus through his affec- 
 tions, and the man, not accessible through 
 his affections, may be given up as lost ; 
 indeed we shall have no difficulty in 
 showing the repetition of the case, and 
 drawing inferences which should go 
 home to many in this assembly. 
 
 It is far, very far from an unfrequent 
 thing, that God causes his warnings and 
 reproofs to be conveyed, so to speak, 
 through the channel of the affections. 
 It is the case, in a measure, whensoever 
 one member of a family is religiously 
 impressed, and studies to convey the 
 impression to the rest. It is the case 
 when parents strive to train their chil- 
 dren in the fear of God ; for all the filial 
 feelings may then be said to be enlisted 
 on the side of piety. It is the case 
 when children are beyond their parents 
 in godliness, so that Christianity is car- 
 ried to the father and the mother through 
 the beautiful examples, and the modest 
 statements, of the son or the daughter. 
 It is yet more emphatically the case, 
 when either the husband or the wife is 
 stirred with anxiety for the soul, and 
 beseeches the other to take heed of cru- 
 cifying the Son of God afresh. There 
 is no denying the commonness of these 
 cases : they are continually occurring in 
 every neighborhood, and we are quite 
 sure that examples of each kind might 
 be found amongst yourselves. And we 
 wish you to understand, that, whenso- 
 ever they occur, God may be regarded 
 as making a special effort to overcome 
 impenitence and unbelief, and as em- 
 ploying an engine which is among the 
 last and most powerful that He ever 
 brings to bear upon men. If He make 
 no way when He attacks through the 
 affections, it is hardly to be expected 
 that He will ever prevail : there remains 
 no more likely method : and the proba- 
 bility is, that the great moral change 
 will never be wrought. 
 
 We would press this on the attention 
 of those of you whose circumstances 
 may at all bring them under our fore- 
 going descriptions. Children who have 
 religious parents — God has sent the vi- 
 sion of immortality to those who gave 
 you life, and not, in the first instance, to 
 yourselves : but this is because there is 
 no channel through which Christian 
 truths can reach you so advantageously 
 as through that of parental instruction, 
 through the warm words of a father, or 
 the warmer tears of a mother : and you 
 are to bethink yourselves, that, if the 
 truths, thus communicated, fail to make 
 impression, you are not to reckon on 
 any mightier instrumentality. Parents, 
 again, who have religious children, into 
 whose households piety has gained en- 
 
116 
 
 PILATE S WIFE. 
 
 trance, but not through yourselves — 
 the dream, which has given warning 
 of the peril of neglecting the soul, has 
 not invaded, your own slumber, but that 
 of those in whom you have garnered up 
 the heart : and you are to consider that 
 this course has been followed, because 
 there was less probability of your re- 
 sisting the claims of the Gospel, as pre- 
 sented to you by the objects of deep 
 love. If, then, you can be irreligious 
 with religion personified in a son or a 
 daughter, alas ! we can scarcely dare 
 hope that you will ever be won over to 
 God. And the husband, who is yet de- 
 voted to the present perishable world, 
 but whose wife has been roused to 
 provide for eternity, and who tells him 
 of those visions of the future which 
 startled her from her lethargy, and en- 
 treats him to join with her in fleeing 
 wrath to come — we see in this man not 
 one from whom God withholds the vi- 
 sion, but rather one to whom He sends 
 it in the mode best adapted to convince : 
 and if it be to no purpose that she, to 
 whom he is bound by the closest of hu- 
 man ties, becomes to him, as it were, the 
 medium of communication from the in- 
 visible world, the minister may well fear 
 that his preaching will be vain, and 
 that he shall never be gladdened by that 
 husband's conversion. 
 
 We are advancing nothing at vari- 
 ance with the important truth which we 
 often feel it necessary to press on your 
 attention, namely, that it is through the 
 public ministrations of the Gospel that 
 God ordinarily turns men from darkness 
 to light. We are only sketching to you 
 a result of those public ministrations, and 
 considering its effects on others beside 
 its more immediate subjects. And we 
 are bound to tell you, that we look with 
 the most melancholy apprehension on 
 that family or household, one of whose 
 members has been converted through 
 the preaching of the word, whilst the 
 others continue careless and worldly- 
 minded. At the first moment, we hail 
 with delight the conversion of one, and 
 eagerly anticipate that the little leaven 
 will leaven the whole lump. But 
 when we observe that no salutary ef- 
 fect is wrought upon the mass, we 
 have less hope than ever that good will 
 be accomplished through future preach- 
 ings of the Gospel, and almost regard 
 the unconverted members as shut up to 
 
 final impenitence. It has to us all the air 
 of a last attempt, when the preacher has 
 been enabled to overcome the unbelief 
 of some one in the household, and so 
 may be said to have sent that one as his 
 messenger to the rest, to warn and to 
 beseech them not to fight against God. 
 It is the attempt through the affections 
 — the attempt upon Pilate through the 
 entreaties and forebodings of his wife. 
 There may be other attempts, and — for 
 there is nothing too hard for the Lord — 
 the strongholds of unbelief may yet be 
 cast down. But as a general rule, we 
 believe, that, where vital religion has 
 made way into a household, and does 
 not spread, there is cause for a more 
 than common fear that it has won its 
 only victory. When the parent is con- 
 verted, but can effect nothing against 
 the ungodliness of the child ; when the 
 child is converted, but sets in vain be- 
 fore the parent the truths of Christiani- 
 ty ; when the wife hearkens to the sum- 
 mons of the Gospel, but cannot persuade 
 the husband to be one with her in seek- 
 ing rest beyond the grave ; or the hus- 
 band renounces the world, but cannot 
 induce the wife to join him in breaking 
 away from its fascinations — oh, it may 
 seem a harsh thing to say, but the child, 
 or the parent, or the husband, or the 
 wife, who can thus resist the claims of 
 religion, when urged through the chan- 
 nel which goes directly to the heart, ap- 
 pears to us to be closing up the last 
 path of escape, and almost insuring the 
 dying unconverted. Depend upon it, it 
 is a fearful thing to have your affections 
 engaged, so to speak, on the side of re- 
 ligion, and yet religion to gain no hold 
 on your affections. 
 
 Let this be pondered, we entreat, by 
 those of you who may be conscious to 
 themselves that they are being attacked 
 through what we define as the avenue 
 of the affections. Let them not think 
 that it might be better for them if they 
 were acted on more immediately through 
 the ministrations of the Gospel ; so that, 
 as the preacher launched forth his ora- 
 tory, the terrors of the future world 
 might crowd their imaginations, and the 
 Judge of humankind rise before their 
 vision, seated awfully on his throne of 
 fire and of cloud. Let them rather think, 
 that it may be on account of its greater 
 probable efficiency, that God tries the 
 method of rousing a near kinsman, and 
 
PILATE S WIFE. 
 
 117 
 
 then employing that kinsman to operate 
 upon them, so that, in withstanding this 
 process of attack, they only show that 
 no other would prevail. And let them 
 consider whether this may not be illus- 
 trated by the instance of Pilate, Pilate 
 of whom we may say that Clod designed 
 to use the strongest possible means of 
 withholding him from the guilt of cru- 
 cifying Christ, and yet of whom we 
 read, not that his own slumber was 
 broken by a supernatural visitation, but 
 only that, when he was set down on the 
 judgment seat, his wife sent unto him 
 to tell him of an agonizing dream, and 
 to beseech him to have nothing to do 
 with that righteous man Christ. 
 
 But now we would wish you to ob- 
 serve how greatly it increased the cri- 
 minality of Pilate, that the message of 
 his wife reached him at the very mo- 
 ment of his taking his place on the 
 judgment seat. It would seem that he 
 had left his palace without hearing any 
 thing of the dream — nay, that the dream 
 had not then been vouchsafed — for you 
 will observe how the communication 
 runs, "I have suffered many things tliis 
 day in a dream because of him." The 
 dream had not come in the nigfht, the 
 ordinary season for such modes of reve- 
 lation, but in the day — so that there was 
 probably something altogether superna- 
 tural about the vision, leaving no room 
 for doubt in Pilate's wife that God had 
 indeed interfered to attest Christ's inno- 
 cence, and to give warning as to the 
 danger of using Him injuriously. And 
 Pilate, receiving so sudden and unex- 
 pected a message, must have more 
 strongly felt a Divine interposition, than 
 had he heard in the morning some mar- 
 vellous story of a strange impression on 
 the mind duringthe usual hours of sleep. 
 He must have perceived that something 
 extraordinary had happened : the vision 
 had evidently been so timed, that the ti- 
 dings might reach him when he could 
 least question their authority, and stood 
 most in need Of their import. And this, 
 as we have said, greatly heightens Pi- 
 late's guilt : whatsover power the vision 
 could have, was brought to bear upon 
 him at the precise moment when he 
 most required aid: and you may see 
 that the whole thing was ordered, so 
 as to afford him the strongest possible 
 assurance that there had come a warn- 
 ing from God, and to afford it him when 
 
 it was most likely to strengthen him to 
 do right. 
 
 Of course, it would in a measure pal- 
 liate his conduct, if you could show that 
 he had reason to doubt the fact of a su- 
 pernatural communication, or if there 
 had been nothing to force the fact on his 
 attention at the exact moment when 
 conscience required an auxiliary. But 
 though he had no power of examining 
 the alleged communication, it was im- 
 possible for him not to feel that some- 
 thing very singular had occurred. His 
 wife, whom he had left but a short time 
 before, undisturbed by any thoughts as 
 to Christ, would never have sent him so 
 strange a message and entreaty, had 
 there not been actually what looked like 
 the interference of God : and it was 
 precisely when his own convictions were 
 urging him to release Christ, that there 
 came to him a testimony to his inno- 
 cence, which ought itself to have nerved 
 him to the resisting the popular will. 
 
 We quite believe that the same accu- 
 rate timing of warning and admonition 
 is to be traced in the experience of all, 
 so that, if any one of you would care- 
 fully observe how things fall out when 
 he is exposed to temptation, he would 
 hud proof that God sends him seasona- 
 ble aids, and disposes events to the 
 strengthening him to resist and over- 
 come. Certainly, if He took care that 
 Pilate should receive a message, just as 
 he ascended the tribunal whence he 
 would be tempted to deliver a wrong 
 verdict, He will not leave without the 
 appropriate assistance any of those, who, 
 being brought into perilous circumstan- 
 ces, are sincerely desirous to keep un- 
 sullied their Christian profession. And 
 in regard of others, who are " led cap- 
 tive by Satan at his will," they have 
 often to overcome obstacles which seem 
 thrown suddenly, and as of set purpose, 
 in the way of their attaining the grati- 
 fication of their passions. They have 
 only to note the difficulties which unex- 
 pectedly arise, and warn them back 
 from some object on which they are 
 bent, to confess that it is as though an 
 invisible Being watched the opportunity, 
 and pressed upon them with a motive 
 to do right, exactly at the turning-point 
 where the risk became greatest of their 
 determining to do wrong. 
 
 But even if these special interposi- 
 tions cannot be traced, you are to re- 
 
118 
 
 PILATE S WIFE. 
 
 member that the whole judicature of 
 conscience is constructed on the princi- 
 ple of counsel being administered at the 
 precise moment when temptation is ur- 
 gent. This is one of those peculiarities 
 iti conscience which will make it so stern 
 a witness against every man who dies in 
 his sins. It is not in moments of calm 
 reflection alone that conscience delivers 
 a verdict on this or that action ; just as 
 a friend, with whom we hold serious 
 discourse, may offer opinions and ten- 
 der advice. If this were the whole 
 course of conscience, we should have 
 nothing to appeal to in any sudden 
 emergence but certain registered de- 
 cisions, which it might be hard to recall, 
 or at least, to invest with any influence, 
 amid the urgent pleadings of pas- 
 sion or interest. But conscience ten- 
 ders its remonstrance precisely at the 
 moment when temptation plies us with 
 its bait : the two things occur together 
 as though the one produced the other — 
 the message, which ought to influence 
 the verdict, is delivered at the instant of 
 ascending the judgment seat. It is not 
 the result of any process of argument 
 which is announced to you through the 
 pleadings of conscience : you cannot 
 tell whence the unseen monitor has 
 sprung ; but there is no debate as to his 
 presence ; and the voice compels an au- 
 dience, even where there is the mosl 
 set determination of acting counter to 
 its suggestions. And this, as we have 
 said, will make conscience the most fear- 
 ful of witnesses against every man who 
 persists in his wickedness. He must 
 have carried with him into every scene 
 of iniquity the remonstrating principle ; 
 and as he went after his unrighteous- 
 ness, he left not behind his counsellor 
 and reprover; but that counsellor and 
 reprover was continually at his side, re- 
 fusing to part company, urging advice 
 in the precise instant of dinger, only to 
 be silenced as a monitor by the commis- 
 sion of the sin, and then to wake up 
 immediately as an avenger. 
 
 We are willing therefore to put out of 
 sight those strange interferences which 
 may be traced, we believe, in every man's 
 history, and which give evidence of a 
 watchful Providence, ever anxious to cast 
 obstacles in the way of the sinner, and to 
 furnish him with fresh motives to do ri"ht 
 at the moment when most tempted to do 
 wrong. We feel confident that such 
 
 interferences are frequently made, so that 
 there is much in the experience of every 
 one of us which is accurately parallel to 
 the incident under review, to the coming 
 of the message from Pilate's wife pre- 
 cisely when Pilate took his place on the 
 judgment seat. But we will not insist 
 on this fact ; for it is a fact which is only 
 to be established in individual cases by 
 close observation, and therefore may be 
 easily either questioned or denied. We 
 confine ourselves altogether to the juris- 
 diction of conscience, conscience which 
 every man bears about in his own breast, 
 so that no one may plead that he knows 
 nothing of its existence. We declare of 
 this principle, that it is its very nature 
 to be most energetic when there is most 
 need for remonstrance, and to deliver its 
 counsel at the exact moment when the 
 individual is urged by temptation. We 
 know not how this comes to pass : it is as 
 though at the presence of danger there 
 started forth a guardian angel: through 
 some most beneficent but inexplicable 
 arrangment, you have only to set the foot 
 in a perilous place, and you thereby call 
 up an adviser, whose counsel is certain to 
 be for your safety. But, mysterious as 
 it may be, such is actually the case : 
 through no tedious process of ratiocina- 
 tion or deduction, but instantaneously, 
 with all the freshness and all the vehe- 
 mence of a living thing which had been 
 watching an opportunity that it might 
 pour in its counsel, does consience rise 
 up in the moment of temptation, and, by 
 exhortation and threatening, seek to with- 
 hold you from what it denounces as 
 wrong. 
 
 And therefore will there be something 
 of the like testimony against every evil- 
 doer, when God shall sit in judgment 
 upon men, as against Pilate who was met 
 by the message from his wife when the 
 Jews were urging him to crucify the 
 Christ. The like testimony — because 
 that evil-doer had equally to go forward 
 in the face of a remonstrance, and to per- 
 petrate the wrong against the warning 
 and entreaty of the most intimate asso- 
 ciate. The condemning thing with Pilate 
 was, that the message came upon him in 
 the moment of emergence : had it come 
 sooner, the effect might have worn oft", 
 and it must have been unavailing if later. 
 And the condemning thing with any one 
 of us — so far as conscience has to do with 
 the sentence — will be, that we were warn- 
 
PILATE S WIFE. 
 
 119 
 
 ed and tempted at the same instant : had 
 the warning preceded the temptation, we 
 might have pleaded that it was weakened 
 by distance ; and of course, had it follow- 
 ed, it could not have aided us in resist- 
 ance. But forasmuch as the two were 
 contemporaneous, the temptation seem- 
 ing always to call forth the warning, 
 there will be nothing to urge in our own 
 vindication ; no more than with Pilate, 
 who, on taking his seat as a judge, re- 
 ceived the message which should have 
 bound him to "judge righteous judg- 
 ment." 
 
 What a scene will it be when this 
 Roman stands forth to answer for him- 
 self at the tribunal of Christ ! The 
 judge will be the prisoner, the prisoner 
 the Judge. Christ was arraigned be- 
 fore Pilate, and now Pilate must be ar- 
 raigned before Christ. How changed 
 the condition of the two! Who can re- 
 bi >gnize in that majestic form, from whose 
 face the earth and the heavens flee away, 
 the defenceless Being, who, pursued by 
 the imprecations and blasphemies of a 
 desperate multitude, stood meekly before 
 the Roman/governor, waiting his award 
 of life or of death \ Around the Roman 
 were then all the tokens of power : he 
 bore the commission of the mistress of 
 the world, and seemed to have absolute- 
 ly at his disposal the persecuted man 
 whom his disciples and friends had for- 
 saken in the hour of peril. But now 
 that persecuted man appears as " King 
 of kings, and Lord of lords : " ten 
 thousand times ten thousand angels wait 
 to do his wdl : and the myriads of hu- 
 man kind, summoned by his voice from 
 the grave, are to receive from his de- 
 cision eternal allotments, whether of 
 happiness beyond thought, or of wretch- 
 edness without limit. And the Roman 
 is there, the scornful man who would 
 not wait an answer to his own solemn 
 question, " what is truth 1" the coward- 
 ly man, who would not stand to his own 
 conviction of right ; the unjust man, who 
 could deliver up the innocent to death ; 
 the presumptuous, self-deceiving man, 
 who could wash his hands in water, and 
 think to excuse his dipping them in 
 blood. He will know that awful Being 
 on the great white throne : he will re- 
 peat to himself his own words to the 
 Jews, " Behold the man ! " — the man 
 on whom I sat as judge, the man whom 
 I surrendered to the will of his enemies, 
 
 the man whom I knew to be guiltless, 
 but whom I abandoned, because I be- 
 lieved Him to be powerless, unable to 
 avenge an insult, or punish a wrong. 
 But now, in place of a crown of thorns, 
 there is upon his head the diadem of the 
 universe, and, instead of the reed, there 
 is the rod of iron in his hand, with which 
 to rule the nations, so that " as the ves- 
 sels of a potter shall they be broken to 
 shivers." 
 
 And if we may venture to go yet fur- 
 ther in anticipating the scenes of the 
 judgment, will not his own wife be a 
 witness against Pilate ? will she not be 
 forced to declare how she told him of the 
 terrors which had been wrought into 
 her spirit, through some mysterious re- 
 presentation, of the very events which 
 are then coming to pass 1 and will not 
 this testimony, even if corroborated by 
 no other, demand and justify the sen- 
 tence of condemnation, and drive down 
 the criminal to the lowest depth of woe 1 
 
 It is amomj the most affecting f the 
 probabilities which belong to the last 
 judgment, that relations and friends will 
 have part in giving evidence against the 
 impenitent and unbelieving. It must be 
 so, where the assault has been through 
 the channel or avenue of the affections. 
 We do not know how you can avoid the 
 conclusion, that the righteous parent will 
 be appealed to in proof of the inexcus- 
 ableness of the unrighteous child ; and 
 that the child who has beautifully ex- 
 emplified the truths of Christianity, but 
 gained for them no entrance into the 
 breast of a parent, must testify against 
 that parent, and vindicate his condem- 
 nation. And it will not be the wife of 
 Pilate alone that shall lift her voice 
 against her husband. Wheresover hu- 
 man affections and ties have been enlist- 
 ed, so to speak, on the side of religion, 
 it must come to pass that the sentence 
 on irreligion will be justified from the 
 witness of one who loved and was be- 
 loved, who would perhaps have given 
 life to insure happiness to the party that 
 would not be persuaded, but must, nev- 
 ertheless, attest the equity of the doom 
 which consigns that party to the fire and 
 the worm. Let any one, on whom the 
 duties of religion are pressed through 
 the voice of one deservedly dear — 
 whether the voice of parent, or of child, 
 or of husband, or of wife — but think of 
 that voice as calling down eternal judg- 
 
120 
 
 THE EXAMINATION OF CAIN. 
 
 ment hereafter, if those duties remain 
 neglected ; and possibly there will be a 
 shrinking from what it is so fearful to 
 Contemplate, and a determination, in the 
 Strength of the Lord, to seek forthwith 
 the things which belong unto peace. 
 
 Our wish for the yet unconverted 
 amongst you is, that, with Pilate's wife, 
 you might be made to suffer many things 
 because of Christ. O for the vision ! O 
 for the dream ! — the vision which should 
 scatter every other, the dream which 
 might break your fatal slumbers. I 
 know not what the dream was which 
 roused the wife of Pilate. But it was a 
 dream of terror — it would seem of un- 
 mingled terror : she had " suffered many 
 things ;" and probably the Redeemer 
 passed before her, trampling down his 
 enemies, and having all his garments red 
 with their blood. O for such a dream 
 again ! but not alone : we would have it 
 followed by a different vision, a vision 
 of this terrible Being as ready to save 
 to the uttermost all who come unto God 
 through Him. And it will be thus fob 
 lowed : the dread of the wrath of the 
 
 Lamb must produce desire for his favor; 
 and where this desire exists, it will urere 
 to those endeavors which are never made 
 in sincerity, but they are made with suc- 
 cess. We want you, then, to be visited 
 with a vision of Judgment to come : and 
 if you would only sit down to a calm in- 
 vestigation of the relation in which you 
 stand to the moral Governor of the uni- 
 verse, it could hardly fail but that the vi- 
 sion would be upon you, and dread and 
 dark things come crowding from the fu- 
 ture. And if in every case — and the cases 
 are of daily occurrence — in which it is 
 virtually put to your decision, whether 
 you will crucify the Son of God afresh, or 
 acknowledge Him as your Savior, you 
 would then go up, as it were, to the 
 Judgment seat under the impression of 
 this vision, with the message which it 
 conveyed ringing in your ears, indeed we 
 can be sure, that, when the last trumpet 
 sounds, and the last assize is held, you 
 will look with confidence on the descend- 
 ing Judge, and know in Him a brother 
 and Redeemer. 
 
 SERMON XIV. 
 
 THE EXAMINATION OF CAIN. 
 
 * And the Lord said unto Cain. Where is Abel thy brother 1 Anil lie said, I know not : am I ray brother's keeper? 
 And he said, What hast thou done ? the voice of th v brother's blood crieth unto me from the ground." — Genesis 
 iv. 9, 10. 
 
 The brief notices which the inspired 
 historian has given of the condition of 
 our first parents immediately after the 
 fall, do not suffice to answer the ques- 
 tions which naturally suggest themselves 
 to the mind. We have no power of 
 knowing what alteration they felt in 
 themselves as consequent on the trans- 
 
 jrression of which they had been guilty. 
 We read, indeed, that, before the fall, 
 they had no feeling of shame at the not 
 being clothed : but that no sooner had 
 they eaten of the forbidden fruit than 
 their eyes were opened, and they knew 
 themselves naked. But this is our only 
 information as to any consciousness of 
 
THE EXAMINATION OF CAIN. 
 
 121 
 
 the change which they had undergone. 
 Whether they felt the sentence of death 
 in their members, whether they could 
 judge, from some difference in the throb- 
 bings of life, that they were no longer 
 what they hud been, children of immor- 
 tality — on this it were idle to advance 
 even conjecture ; they knew that they 
 must die ; they knew in a measure what 
 death was, for they saw the stragglings 
 of animals which they offered in sacri- 
 fice : but it is a strange, inexplicable 
 thing, the transition from incorruptible 
 to corruptible, from immortal to mortal ; 
 and we may not pretend to say whether 
 the pulse and the feeling gave any notice 
 of the change. 
 
 But at least, we may believe that 
 Adam and Eve awaited with much anx- 
 iety the first instance of death. It was 
 long in coming ; year rolled away after 
 year, and still they saw no infliction of 
 the curse, except on the beast of the field 
 and the fowl of the air. Perhaps the 
 delay took away something of the horror 
 with which they had at first contemplat- 
 ed the threatened visitation. Then- 
 family multiplied, sons and daughters 
 were born unto them, and they may al- 
 most have forgotten, as healthfulness 
 perhaps beamed from every face, that a 
 day must come when the ground, which 
 yielded them sustenance, must yield them 
 a grave. At least, our first parents may 
 have said, It will not be our lot to mark 
 the irruption of the destroyer. We, in 
 all probability, shall be the first victims : 
 for it may not have entered into their 
 thoughts, that so vast was the disorgani- 
 zation consequent on sin, that children 
 might die before their parents, and the 
 old carry the young out to burial. 
 
 Alas for Adam and Eve ! if they eith- 
 er thought less of the evil they had 
 wrought, because its consequences came 
 not visibly for year after year ; or if they 
 expected, that, being themselves the first 
 to fall before the storm, they should 
 know comparatively but little of its fear- 
 fulness. Alas for them ! seeing that 
 they were to live to behold the entrance 
 of death, an entrance which should de- 
 monstrate, in a manner inconceivably 
 terrible, how vast was the corruption 
 which had been wrought into their 
 nature. 
 
 There is nothing more memorable 
 than this — that the first instance of death 
 was the most convincing of all possible 
 
 proofs, that human nature had become 
 radically depraved, that it was capable 
 of any wickedness, in consequence of 
 the original transgression. It might 
 have been supposed, that, though the 
 seeds of evil had been sown in our na- 
 ture through the disobedience of our 
 first parents, time would have been re- 
 quired for their development, so that it 
 would not be until the human family had 
 multiplied and spread, that any thing of 
 enormous wickedness would be wrought 
 upon the earth. But the precise reverse 
 was the matter of fact. The very first 
 that was born of woman, committed the 
 very foulest crime that can be perpetra- 
 ted by man. There was no time needed 
 for the growth of evil : the nature, once 
 corrupted, was capable of the worst that 
 can be even imagined. You misdit 
 think, when you look on the savage, 
 stained with some deed of signal atrocity, 
 that he is but a proof of the gradual 
 degeneracy of our nature — supposing 
 him to have become thus frightfully fe- 
 rocious through the growth of barbarism 
 in successive generations. You com- 
 pare him with the inhabitants of more 
 civilized countries, and you conclude 
 that it is just because he has been longer 
 left to harden and deteriorate, without 
 coming into contact with any counter in- 
 fluence, that he commits without re- 
 morse the most desperate crimes. And 
 we do not of course deny, that civiliza- 
 tion has a great deal to do with the 
 form and measure of prevalent iniquity: 
 the laws of a well-regulated society will 
 proscribe, and make rare, many of those 
 manifestations of evil which stalk unre- 
 strained in a barbarous state. But what 
 we wish you to be certified of, is, that, 
 though with different degrees of civiliza- 
 tion there may be different degrees in 
 the exhibition of human corruption, 
 there are not different degrees in that 
 corruption itself. Man is the same, radi- 
 cally the same, in one state and in an- 
 other : he is capable of the same, the 
 very same, villanies, though he may not 
 in both instances be actually guilty of 
 them : the polish of civilization may con- 
 ceal, and the rudeness of barbarism may 
 bring out, evil tendencies, but those ten- 
 dencies equally exist, however unequally 
 they may be displayed. 
 
 And we can never want other proof 
 of this truth than that which was f >rced 
 on our first parents, when, after long ex- 
 
 16 
 
122 
 
 THE EXAMINATION OF CAIN. 
 
 pecting the entrance of death, and per- 
 haps, seeing- but little to persuade them, 
 that, in eating of the fruit, they had 
 actually poisoned the nature which they 
 were to transmit, they beheld Abel ly- 
 ing murdered, and knew that a brother's 
 hand bad dealt the fatal blow. If Abel 
 had sickened and died in what we now 
 call a natural course, it would have been 
 a grievous spectacle for Adam and Eve : 
 they would have hung over their wast- 
 ing chiid in unutterable anguish, marking 
 in every pan- the effect of their disobe- 
 dience, and reproaching themselves as 
 the cause of his sufferings. And when 
 at last death had made good his conquest, 
 and seized the first-fruit of that immea- 
 surable harvest which he is yet reaping 
 from the earth, they would have thrown 
 them -elves in their agony on the corpse, 
 and then have recoiled from the touch, 
 shuddering at the coldness of the dead. 
 Still there would have been nothing here 
 but what they had looked for, nothing 
 but what they had known to be inevita- 
 ble : the hist dead body would have 
 been an appalling-, strange, mysterious 
 thing ; but nevertheless as they gazed 
 on tiie calm, still, features, they might 
 have felt that there was rest in that aw- 
 ful sleep. They would not necessarily 
 have risen from their first acquaintance 
 with death, increasingly convinced of 
 the fearful consequences of their sin. 
 Those consequences might have been 
 presented in their ]east terrible shape. 
 The dying youth might have blessed 
 them with his parting breath ; he might 
 have smiled affectionately upon them, 
 and something of hope might have beam- 
 ed from his eye, as though to assure 
 them, that, after all, death was not so 
 formidable a thing : and they might have 
 dug his grave, and laid him there to his 
 long repose, half-comforted with the 
 thought, that, although they had brought 
 a curse upon their nature, that curse 
 was less tremendous than their fears had 
 supposed. 
 
 But Abel murdered — Abel stretched 
 upon the earth, a ghastly mingled thing 
 — what a spectacle was this! Who had 
 done it'.' had he been his own execu- 
 tioner? That were an awful thing, 
 thrillingly demonstrative of the depravi- 
 ty of the nature which had been created 
 in innocence. But this was incredible 
 — so gentle, so meek, so pious, it could 
 not be that he who had so recently 
 
 brought of the firstlings of his flock, 
 and to whom and to whose offerino- the 
 Lord had had respect, should have done 
 a deed from which nature recoils, and 
 courted that which was the object of a 
 dark and undefined dread. But if Abel 
 had not slain himself, by whom could the 
 wounds have been inflicted t Alas, 
 when there were yet so few in the world, 
 there was little difficulty in fixing on 
 
 1 * ■ * 
 
 the criminal. Adam and Eve must have 
 remembered Row, when the offering of 
 their elder son was rejected, " Cain was 
 very wroth, and his countenance fell." 
 Yet was it possible ? human nature had 
 been depraved, but had it been depraved 
 enough for this ? what, the brother kill 
 the brother ? was man so incurably 
 wicked, that, in place of waiting for the 
 sentence upon sin, he could sin beyond 
 thought in order to hasten its corning-'? 
 It seemed too bad for belief: Cain no 
 doubt denied the atrocity; he denied 
 it afterwards to God, and is not like- 
 ly to have confessed it to his parents. 
 Then these parents may still have 
 thought that they had not utterly cor- 
 rupted their nature : they could more 
 easily leave Abel's death unexplained, 
 than admit the explanation which made 
 a murderer of Cain. But they must 
 have been ready to sink into the earth 
 at the view of what they had done in 
 disobeying God — ay, and the men of 
 every age were taught, that what was 
 immediately caused by the fall, was the 
 total, radical, corruption of human na- 
 ture — when the Eternal One Himself 
 convicted the criminal, exclaiming in the 
 words of our text, " The voice of thy 
 brother's blood crieth unto me from the 
 ground." 
 
 But we have spoken hitherto only of 
 the crime which had been perpetrated 
 by Cain, being very anxious that you 
 should judge from that crime the extent 
 of the moral ruin which had been 
 wrought through apostasy. There is 
 certainly a surprisin ■ difference, on 
 every human calculation, between the 
 sin of our first parents, and the sin of 
 their first child — the one, the eating a 
 morsel of fruit, the other, the murder of 
 a brother. Bui we may justly make use 
 of the difference in estimating the effects 
 of the original disobedience. Men will 
 ask, in what degree was our nature de- 
 praved by the fall ? are we to believe 
 that it became very sinful, capable of 
 
THE EXAMINATION OF CAIN. 
 
 123 
 
 very great wickedness 1 We never 
 think that any other answer is needed to 
 such questions than is furnished by the 
 history now under review. Adam and 
 Eve transgressed through eating the 
 forbidden fruit : they thus, in some 
 measure or another, corrupted the na- 
 ture which they had received innocent 
 from God. But the very first being to 
 whom this corrupted nature was com- 
 municated, raised his hand against his 
 brother, and slew him out of mere envy, 
 though he had done him no wrong — 
 judge ye then whether we are right in 
 maintaining that human nature was 
 radically and totally depraved by the 
 fall, that it was instantly capable of 
 the worst, not having to become gi- 
 gantic in evil, but being so by being evil 
 at all 1 
 
 •But we wish now to speak # upon the 
 trial, rather than upon the crime : the 
 world was yet young, and there were 
 no judicatories to take cognizance of 
 offences — therefore did God, who, 
 though his creatures had rebelled against 
 Him, still held in his hands the govern- 
 ment of the world, come forth from his 
 solitude, and make " inquisition for 
 blood." It is probable that there were 
 stated religious assemblings of the fa- 
 mily of Adam, and that it was at one of 
 these — the one which followed the mur- 
 der — that the inquiry took place which 
 is registered in our text. God had not 
 deserted our guilty race in judgment on 
 their apostasy ; but, having spared them 
 for the sake of the promised interference 
 of a Mediator, He still condescended to 
 hold intercourse with them in something 
 of the same manner as whilst they yet 
 inhabited Paradise. Thus, there must 
 have been some direct manifestation of 
 his presence, when on occasion of the 
 presentation of offerings, He "had re- 
 spect unto Abel and his offering, but 
 unto Cain and his offering he had not 
 respect." This probably took place at 
 one of the stated gatherings for purpo- 
 ses of religion : and it may have been 
 at the next that God took occasion, from 
 the absence of Abel, to address Cain 
 with the interrogation with which our 
 text opens. 
 
 But why — omniscient as God was, 
 and, by his own after-statement, tho- 
 roughly cognizant of the guilt of Cain — 
 why did He address the murderer with 
 the que j - . ion, " Where is Abel thy 
 
 brother 1 " in place of taxing him at once 
 with the atrocious commission 1 As- 
 suredly there could have been no need 
 to God of additional information : it was 
 in no sense the same as at a human tri- 
 bunal, where questions are put that facts 
 may be elicited. And in following this 
 course, God acted as He had done on 
 the only former occasion when He had 
 sat, as it were, in judgment on human 
 offenders. When our first parents had 
 transgressed, God conducted his whole 
 inquiry by questions, though we need 
 not say that He must have been tho- 
 roughly acquainted with all that had 
 passed. Adam hid himself from the 
 Loi'd, conscious of guilt,, and therefore 
 dreading his presence. " And the Lord 
 God called unto Adam, and said unto 
 him, Where art thou 1 " God saw Adam 
 in his concealment ; yet He seemed to 
 assume ignorance, and required the cul- 
 prit tc make himself known. And on 
 Adam's then saying that He was afraid 
 because of his nakedness, fresh ques- 
 tions are put: " Who told thee that thou 
 wast naked 1 hast thou eaten of the tree 
 whereof I commanded thee that thou 
 shouldest not eat 1 " The same system 
 is pursued with the woman on whom 
 Adam endeavors to shift all the blame. 
 " The Lord God said unto the woman, 
 What is this that thou hast done 1 " But 
 it is very observable that here the ques- 
 tions end : the woman throws the blame 
 on the serpent, and God proceeds to 
 pass sentence on the serpent, without 
 prefacing it with any inquiry. " The 
 Lord God said unto the serpent, Be- 
 cause thou hast done this, thou art cursed 
 above all cattle." 
 
 But the method of question is again 
 employed, so soon as there is again a 
 human offender to be tried. " The Lord 
 said unto Cain, Where is Abel thy 
 brother 1 " It can hardly be doubted that, 
 in all these instances, the gracious de- 
 sign of God was to afford the criminals 
 opportunity of confessing their crimes. 
 We are greatly struck by the difference 
 in the course adopted with a fallen man, 
 and with a fallen angel. It is a differ- 
 ence analogous to the great but myste- 
 rious distinction, that He taketh not 
 hold on angels, but that of the seed of 
 Abraham He doth take hold. A fallen 
 man was within the possibility of par- 
 don, seeing that, long before he trans- 
 gressed, a Surety had covenanted to be- 
 
124 
 
 THE EXAMINATION OF CAIN. 
 
 come the propitiation for his sin. And 
 therefore might a fallen man be invited 
 and encouraged to confess his sin, seeing 
 that the gracious words were actually in 
 force, though they had not yet been de- 
 livered, "Whoso confesseth and for- 
 saketh his sins shall find mercy." But 
 there was no such possibility in the case 
 of a fallen angel like Satan, who actuat- 
 ed the serpent ; he had been cast out 
 for ever from heaven ; no mediator was 
 to arise to accomplish his reconciliation 
 to God ; and therefore was he not invit- 
 ed to acknowledge his guilt, seeing that 
 no acknowledgement could have effect 
 on his doom. 
 
 It is in this way that we would ex- 
 plain the system of questioning which is 
 so observable in God's dealings with the 
 first human culprits. You must be 
 aware how, throughout Scripture, there 
 is attached the greatest importance to 
 confession of sin, so that its being for- 
 given is spoken of as though it depend- 
 ed upon nothing but its being acknow- 
 ledged. " If we confess our sins," saith 
 the evangelist, " God is faithful and just 
 to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us 
 from all unrighteousness." " Only," 
 saith the prophet, " acknowledge thine 
 iniquity, that thou hast transgressed 
 against the Lord thy God." "li\" saith 
 the apostle, " thou shalt confess with thy 
 mouth the Lord Jesus " — for " with the 
 mouth confession is made unto salva- 
 tion." We are not now to inquire in- 
 to the reasons why the confesssion of 
 sin should thus be instrumental to its 
 forgiveness. It is sufficient to observe 
 that the whole procuring cause of the 
 forgiveness of sin is in the blood of a 
 Redeemer : but that the application of 
 this blood, in any particular instance, is 
 justly made conditional on the acquire- 
 ment and display of certain dispositions, 
 which dispositions will evidence them- 
 selves in genuine contrition, and hearty 
 confession. So that it is not that, by 
 confessing our sins, we in any sense or 
 measure deserve their forgiveness ; but 
 only that confession, when it is the lan- 
 guage of the heart, argues the state of 
 mind which God requires in those whom 
 He pardons — a state of penitential sor- 
 row for the past, and of humble resolu- 
 tion for the future. And therefore, when 
 God attempts to draw a criminal to con- 
 fession, He is to be understood as telling 
 him that his sin is not unpardonable ; 
 
 but that there is yet a way, through re- 
 pentance, to forgiveness. 
 
 It is this, even this, which we consid- 
 er indicated by the questions which He 
 proposed to Cain. We say, the ques- 
 tions ; for you observe that when the 
 murderer, in his hardihood, had return- 
 ed an insolent negative to the inquiry, 
 " Where is Abel thy brother 1 " God 
 plied him with a second question, " What 
 hast thou done ] " It may be that this 
 question again referred to the murder : 
 and then it is but a repetition of the 
 first, a fresh attempt to extort from Cain 
 confession of his crime. But we rather 
 understand it in another sense, as refer- 
 ring to Cain's refusal to confess. " What 
 hast thou done 1 " — it is as much as to 
 say, I have given thee opportunity to 
 acknowledge the crime of whose com- 
 mission I need no evidence but the blood 
 crying from the ground : thou hast re- 
 fused the opportunity : alas, then, what 
 hast thou done 1 thou hast now made 
 thy punishment inevitable, even as thy 
 guilt has all along been unquestion- 
 able. 
 
 And did the crime, then, of Cain come 
 within the range of forgiveness ] Sup- 
 posing it to have been confessed, might 
 it also have been pardoned 1 We pre- 
 sume not to say what God's course with 
 Cain would have been, had the murder- 
 er displayed contrition in place of hard- 
 ness and insolence. The crime had been 
 fearful; and we must believe that, in 
 any case, the moral Governor of the 
 universe would have so treated the 
 criminal as to mark his sense of the 
 atrociousness of that which he had done. 
 But there is no room for doubt, that 
 there was •forgiveness even for Cain ; 
 even then there was blood which spake 
 better things than that of Abel, the blood 
 of Him who, on the cross, besought par- 
 don for his murderers, and who, in thus 
 showing that his death made expiation 
 even for its authors, showed also that 
 there was no human sin which its virtue 
 would not reach. And we do reckon it 
 among the most beautiful of the early 
 notices of the prevalence of that atone- 
 ment which was to be made in the ful- 
 ness of time, that God should have thus 
 lingered with such a criminal as Cain, 
 delaying to pass sentence in hopes of 
 obtaining confession. Oh, it is true 
 that there may have been given but 
 feeble intimations to the patriarchs of 
 
THE EXAMINATION OP CAIN. 
 
 125 
 
 that great scheme of rescue, which, as 
 developed to ourselves in the Gospel of 
 Christ, assures us that, though our sins 
 be as scarlet, they may be white as snow, 
 though they be red like crimson, they 
 may be as wool : yet, whether or not 
 these fathers of our race had any clear 
 idea as to the mode in which provision 
 would be made for the forgiveness of 
 sin, we may be sure that they were freed 
 from the most oppressive of all burdens, 
 the burden of a belief, or even a fear, 
 that their offences were too great to be 
 pardoned. The history of (Jain might 
 have sufficed to remove this. Was not ! 
 God omniscient 1 could any solitude 
 withdraw from his penetrating gaze 1 
 could any covering hide guilt from his 
 all-seeing eye] Wherefore, then, did 
 He question Cain, as though wanting 
 information, and unable to proceed in 
 his office of J udge, without fuller and 
 more definite evidence 1 Nay, the pa- 
 triarchs must have known, as well as 
 ourselves, that these questions were de- 
 signed to induce confession, not to ex- 
 tort proof. And why did God labor to 
 induce confession, except that He sought 
 to bring Cain to repentance ? and why 
 to repentance, except that He might then 
 bestow on him pardon I 
 
 But if Cain might have been pardon- 
 ed, had he been but penitent, where was 
 the contrite sinner who need despair of 
 the forgiveness of his sins 1 Ay, it is 
 thus that the questions under review 
 might have served as a revelation, during 
 the infancy of the world, of the readi- 
 ness of the Almighty to blot out our ini- 
 quities as a cloud, and as a thick cloud 
 our sins. There were then no gracious 
 declarations as to the cleansing power 
 of the blood of a Redeemer ; and there 
 had not passed over this fallen creation, 
 words which have only to be breath- 
 ed, and its waste places ought to break 
 forth into singing, " The Son of Man is 
 come to seek and to save that which 
 was lost." But the trembling penitent 
 was not necessarily harassed with appre- 
 hensions of vengeance. There were 
 other visions floating before him than 
 those of an implacable Deity and an in- 
 evitable wrath ; he could comfort him- 
 self with the thought that there was mer- 
 cy with the Most High, even for the 
 chief of sinners; and if asked on what 
 he rested such a confidence, he might 
 have pointed to God's dealings with 
 
 Cain, and have declared that he found 
 grounds of assurance in the questions, 
 " Where is thy brother? " and, " What 
 hast thou done I " 
 
 But let us now observe the manner in 
 which Cain acted, whilst God was thus 
 graciously endeavoring to lead him to 
 repentance. If we had not abundant 
 evidence, in our own day — yea, in our 
 own cases — of the hardening power of 
 sin, we might wonder at the effrontery 
 which the murderer displayed. Did he, 
 could he, think that denial would avail 
 anything with God, so that, if he did not 
 confess, he might keep his crime unde- 
 tected ? I know not what measure of 
 blindness he may have wrought for him- 
 self through allowing his malice to urge 
 him on to murder. But when we find 
 it affirmed, as it is by God Himself in 
 the book of Psalms, of a wicked man, 
 " Thou thoughtest that I was altogether 
 such an one as thyself," we may believe 
 that there are scarce any limits to the 
 moral hardness and darkness which are 
 naturally the produce of continuance in 
 sin. There may come upon a man who, 
 by persisting in iniquity, sears and stupi- 
 fies conscience, such adulness of appre- 
 hension, such a confusion of right and 
 wrong, such a loss of all distinction be- 
 tween the finite and the infinite, that he 
 shall be able to persuade himself of the 
 truth of a lie, and to ascribe even to God 
 his own faults and imperfections. 
 
 It may, therefore, be, that it was not 
 in mere insolence that Cain affirmed to 
 God that he knew nothing of Abel ; he 
 may have been so blinded by his sin as 
 to lose all discernment of the necessary 
 attributes of God, so that he actually 
 imagined that not to confess would be 
 almost to conceal. Under this point of 
 view, his instance ought to serve as a 
 warning to its of the deadening power of 
 wrong-doing, informing us that there is 
 no such ready way of benumbing the 
 understanding, or paralyzing the reason, 
 as the indulging passion, and withstand- 
 ing conscience. We know not where 
 we shall stop, if we once hearken to our 
 evil affections, and allow them to lead 
 us captive, in spite of that " still small 
 voice " which pleads at some time or 
 another, in every man's breast, for God 
 and for truth. We may not stop until 
 those powers of mind, which are in vig- 
 orous play on all other science, are too 
 enfeebled for any due apprehension of an 
 
126 
 
 THE EXAMINATION OF CAIN. 
 
 invisible ruler, and the pale lamp which 
 Deity hath lit up within us, and which 
 may still shed some lustre on natural 
 things, burns too dimly and fitfully to 
 allow of our looking, otherwise than 
 through vapor and mist, on what is 
 spiritual and eternal. With Cain we 
 may sin, till, besotted into a practical 
 ignorance which could hardly be expect- 
 ed in the savage of the desert, we dream 
 of hiding from God what we can hide 
 from man, and are ready, were the Al- 
 mighty to question us on some matter of 
 fact, to assert want of knowledge, in the 
 actual hope of concealing from the Om- 
 niscient what we refuse to confess. 
 
 But Cain did more than assert ignorance 
 of what had happened to Abel : he taxed 
 God with the unreasonableness of propos- 
 ing the question, as though it were a 
 strange thing to suppose that he might 
 concern himself with his brother. " Am 
 I my brother's keeper 1 " There can be no 
 need of our showing you, that this ques- 
 tion marked the extraordinary impiety of 
 Cain : every one shrmks from it : forbad 
 only some accident befallen Abel, it was 
 to have been expected that his brother 
 would manifest the greatest eagerness to 
 discover his fate, and the greatest sorrow 
 at finding him dead. Had his first as- 
 sertion been true, that he knew nothing 
 of his brother, what was to be said of 
 the utter want of natural affection ex- 
 hibited in the question which he went 
 on to propose 'I There were then no 
 brothers in the world but Cain and 
 Abel; and he who could insolently ask, 
 " Am I my brother's keeper 1 " when 
 that brother was missimr, misfit have 
 been convicted, by those very words, of 
 a fierceness which was equal to murder, 
 and an audacity which would deny it 
 even to God. 
 
 But we wish to dwell for a moment on 
 this question of Cain as virtually con- 
 taining the excuse which numbers in 
 our own day would give, were God to 
 come visibly down, and make inquisition 
 for blood. You may start at the very men- 
 tion of such an inquisition, and demand 
 what we mean by supposing a possibili- 
 ty of your committing the same crime 
 as Cain. Nay, it is not needful that 
 your hands be red with slaughter, in 
 order to your pleading that you are not 
 your brother's keeper. We assert that 
 God might come down, and make in- 
 quisition for blood, though there were 
 
 none upon whom actual murder could be 
 charged. Is there no such thing in our 
 crowded community as neglect of the 
 poor ? might not many a man be fixed on, 
 who is in the enjoyment of every luxu- 
 ry of life, and who never gives even a 
 passing thought to hundreds who are 
 almost perishing within a stone's throw 
 of his mansion, never personally inquir- 
 ing into their wants, and never even 
 employing others to relieve their desti- 
 tution ] 
 
 And what is to be said of the mur- 
 der, the wholesale murder, which, in a 
 spiritual sense, is chargeable on Chris- 
 tendom, and on ourselves as truly as on 
 any of its sections 1 We speak of the 
 murder of souls. Is it no murder, when 
 thousands in our own land are left with- 
 out the bread of life, consigned to star- 
 vation, through an utter destitution of the 
 jmblic means of grace 1 Is it no mur- 
 der, when year after year idolatry is 
 suffered to sweep away its vast host of 
 victims, and we make no missionary effort 
 commensurate with the enormous evil 
 which we are called on to oppose 1 
 Nay, it is more than the murder of souls : 
 it is the murder of the whole man, body 
 and soul : for what say you to the mul- 
 titude whose bones lie bleaching on the 
 deserts of heathenism, a multitude which 
 has perished through the power of su- 
 perstition, having immolated themselves 
 to some bloody idol, or been worn down 
 by the macerations which falsehood has 
 prescribed ? Who will affirm that we 
 are innocent herein ? that there goes up 
 against us no accusing voice from the 
 thousands that are continually perishing 
 through the abominations of Paganism l 
 It is not wholly chargeable on ourselves, 
 that these abominations prevail, that 
 they have not long ago been supplanted 
 by the genial influences of Christianity. 
 But have we been valiant for the truth 
 up to the measure of our ability ? have 
 we done our utmost towards spreading 
 that Gospel, which alone can extinguish 
 idolatry, and put an arrest on the de- 
 struction of vast portions of our race 1 
 So far as we have been negligent, 
 so far as we have been remiss in bring- 
 ing to bear upon heathenism the en- 
 gine; of Christianity — and, alas ! how 
 far below our powers have been our en- 
 deavors — we have been distinctly instru- 
 mental to the slaughter of our fellow- 
 men, the slaughter of body and soul — 
 
THE EXAMINATION OF CAIN. 
 
 127 
 
 what; we might have prevented, we may 
 be said to have committed. 
 
 Then it would not be a process in 
 which we had personally no concern, 
 were the Almighty to descend that He 
 might make inquisition for blood. And 
 if each would honestly search into his 
 own thoughts and feelings, he might 
 find himself ready to meet every in- 
 quiry into the fate of his brother, with 
 something of the question with which 
 Cain answered God. If those who are 
 neglectful of their fellow-men, caring 
 little for the temporal distress by which 
 numbers are consumed, and still less for 
 the spiritual famine by which whole na- 
 tions are wasted, were taxed with their 
 nearliorence — taxed in such manner as 
 should imply that they, in their measure, 
 were answerable for a slaughter which 
 is turnino: lar^re districts of the earth 
 into valleys like that to which the Pro- 
 phet was carried, where lay, in mighty 
 piles, the bones of many generations — 
 oh, what would they commonly do but 
 shift oft' the blame, urging that they had 
 enough to do in consulting for them- 
 selves and their immediate dependents, 
 and that there were no such links of as- 
 sociation between them and the stran- 
 ger as made it imperative that they 
 should engage in large schemes of be- 
 nevolence 1 Am I the keeper of the 
 Hindu, the Indian, the Hottentot 1 Am 
 I the keeper of the savage, who, on 
 some distant continent or island, offers 
 his first-born or himself to a blood- 
 thirsty deity, the creation of his fears, 
 the offspring of his ignorance 1 Is the 
 savage thy brother ] Is it, or is it not 
 true, that God "hath made of one blood 
 all nations of men for to dwell on all 
 the face of the earth 1 ?" If all have 
 sprung from the same parents, then the 
 wild wanderer, the painted barbarian, is 
 thy brother, though civilization may 
 have separated you by so wide an inter- 
 val, that you scarcely seem to belong to 
 the same race. And, being thy brother, 
 it is but to imitate Cain, to plead that it 
 is not thine office to attend to his wel- 
 fare. It is thine office. There is no 
 man who is not bound to do his utmost 
 for the good of every other man. He 
 is bound, because every man is the bro- 
 ther of every man. The missionary 
 enterprize is nothing but the truth of 
 universal brotherhood, reduced into 
 practice. It is no mere burst of spiritu- 
 
 al chivalry, the fine and splendid scheme 
 of lofty enthusiasts, who would cany 
 into religion the passions which find 
 vent in the heroic deeds of war. It is 
 simply the doctrine of a common origin, 
 suffered to produce its natural fruits. It 
 is the acknowledgment of our having had 
 but one father, registered in action as 
 well as in word. And therefore let all 
 learn, that, if they excuse themselves 
 from the duty of ministering to the suf- 
 fering ; if they confine their solicitude 
 and their liberality to the few with whom 
 they are most closely connected, treat- 
 ing all the rest of the human family as 
 strangers for whom thev are not bound 
 to care — ah, they may indeed imagine 
 that they make out a very plausible 
 case ; for what have they to do with 
 the savage and the foreigner 1 is there 
 not enough nearer home to exhaust all 
 their efforts 'i — but let them know as- 
 suredly, that, Avhen the Lord cometh, 
 as come He shall, to make inquisition 
 for blood, they shall be dealt with as 
 though like Cain, yet reeking from the 
 slaughter of Abel, they had parried the 
 inquiries of an all-seeing God with the 
 insolent question, " Am I my brother's 
 keeper 1 " 
 
 But we have now to consider to what 
 God appealed in the absence of con- 
 fession from the murderer himself: He 
 had striven to induce Cain to acknowl- 
 edge his guilt ; but, failing in this, He 
 must seek elsewhere for evidence on 
 which to convict him. And where does 
 He find this evidence 1 He misrh't un- 
 doubtedly have referred to his own om- 
 niscience, to the observation of an eye 
 which never slumbers nor sleeps. Think- 
 est thou, He might have said to the cul- 
 prit, that I require any testimony to assure 
 me of thy guilt i Did I not see thee 
 when thine hand was raised against thy 
 brother? was I not by thy side, though 
 thou didst impiously suppose thyself 
 alone with thy victim, and thou dost 
 now, as impiously, think that denial is 
 the same thing as concealment % I want 
 no evidence : I condemn thee for what 
 I beheld : away, and be a wanderer and 
 an outcast, a terror to thyself, and to all 
 that shall meet thee. 
 
 But the observable thin"- is, that God 
 did not thus appeal to his omniscience : 
 He did not rest his conviction of Cain 
 on the fact that the murder had been 
 committed under the very eye of the 
 
128 
 
 THE EXAMINATION OF CAIN. 
 
 Judge : but He made the inanimate cre- 
 ation rise up, as it were, against the as- 
 sassin, and dumb things became elo- 
 quent in demanding his condemnation. 
 '• The voice of thy brother's blood cri- 
 eth unto in;: from the ground." And 
 when the Almighty proceeds to pass 
 sentence, the inanimate creation, which 
 had testified to the guilt, is made to take 
 part in the vengeance, as though it had 
 been wronged and injured by the foul 
 perpetration, and therefore claimed 
 share in the punishment of the criminal. 
 "And now art thou cursed from the 
 earth, which hath opened her mouth to 
 receive thy brother's blood from thy 
 hand." 
 
 Who has not read, who has not heard, 
 how murderers, though they have suc- 
 ceeded in hiding their guilt from their 
 fellow-men, have seemed to themselves 
 surrounded with witnesses and avengers, 
 so that Lhe sound of their own foot-tread 
 has startled them as if it had been the 
 piercing cry of an accuser, and the rust- 
 ling of every tree, and the murmur of 
 everv brook, has sounded like the ut- 
 terance of one clamorous for their pun- 
 ishment % It has been as nothing, that 
 they have screened themselves from 
 those around them, and are yet moving 
 in society with no suspicion attaching to 
 them of their having done so foul a 
 thing as murder. They have felt, as 
 though, in the absence of all accusation 
 from beings of their own race, they had 
 arrayed against themselves the whole 
 visible creation, sun and moon and stars 
 and forests and waters growing vocal 
 that they might publish their crime. 
 And I know not whether there may be 
 any thing more in this than the mere 
 goading and imaging of conscience : 
 wb ether the disquieted assassin, to 
 whose troubled eye the form of his vic- 
 tim is given back from every mirror in 
 the universe, and on whose ear there falls 
 no sound which does not come like the dy- 
 ing man's shriek, or the thundering call 
 of the avenger of blood — whether he 
 is simply to be considered as haunted 
 and hunted by his own evil thoughts ; 
 or whether he be indeed subjected to 
 some mysterious and terrible influences 
 with which his crime has impregnated 
 and endowed the whole material sys- 
 tem. I cannot help feeling, when I 
 consider the language of our text, as 
 though there might be more than the 
 
 mere phantasms of a diseased and dis- 
 tracted mind in those forms of fear, and 
 those sounds of wrath, which agitate so 
 tremendously the yet undiscovered mur- 
 derer. It may be, that, fashioned as 
 man is out of the dust of the earth, 
 there are such links between him and 
 the material creation, that, when the 
 citadel of his life is rudely invaded, the 
 murderous blow is felt throughout the 
 vast realm of nature ; so that, though 
 there be no truth in the wild legend, 
 that, if the assassin enter the chamber 
 where the victim is stretched, the ga- 
 ping wounds will bleed afresh, yet may 
 earth, sea, air, have sympathy with the 
 dead, and form themselves into furies to 
 hunt down his destroyer. It may have 
 been more than a mere rhetorical ex- 
 pression when God assigned a voice to 
 the ground that was saturated with hu- 
 man blood. And there may be utter- 
 ances, which are more than the coin- 
 ings of his own racked conscience, to the 
 murderer — utterances which, though 
 heard only by himself, because himself 
 alone hath dislocated a chord in the 
 great harmonies of creation — may speak 
 piercingly of the frightful atrocity, and 
 invoke the vengeance of Heaven on the 
 wretch who hath dared to withdraw one 
 note from the universal anthem. 
 
 But it is not exclusively, nor e'ven 
 chiefly, as indicating a possible, though 
 inexplicable sympathy between materi- 
 al things and the victim of the murder- 
 er, that we reckon the statement before 
 us deserving of being carefully ponder- 
 ed. Setting aside this sympathy, there 
 is much that is very memorable in the 
 appeal of God to a voice from Abel's 
 blood, when there were other witnesses 
 which might have been produced. Had 
 not the soul of Abel entered the separ- 
 ate state 1 was not his spirit with God 1 
 and might not the immortal principle, 
 violently detached as it had been from 
 the body, have cried for vengeance on 
 the murderer? We read in the Book 
 of Revelation of " the souls of them 
 that were slain for the word of God, 
 and for the testimony which they held." 
 And of those souls we are told, that 
 " they cried with a loud voice, saying, 
 How long, O Lord, holy and true, dost 
 thou not judge and avenge our blood on 
 them that dwell on the earth '? " It 
 may thei'efore be, that the souls of the 
 dead cry for judgment upon those who 
 
THE EXAMINATION OF CAIN. 
 
 129 
 
 have compassed their death : why then 
 might not the soul of Ahel, rather than 
 his blood, have been adduced by God 1 
 even had it been silent, surely its very 
 presence in the invisible world gave a 
 mote impressive testimony than the 
 stream which had crimsoned the ground; 
 
 In answer to this, we are to consider, 
 in the first place, that it did not please 
 God to vouchsafe any clear revelation of 
 the invisible state, during the earlier 
 ages of the world. We cannot deter- 
 mine what degree of acquaintance our 
 first parents possessed with a life after 
 death; but when we remember what 
 cloud and darkness hung over the grave, 
 even to those who lived under the Jew- 
 ish economy, we may well doubt wheth- 
 er Adam and Eve had any clear appre- 
 hension of a state in which wickedness 
 would be eternally punished, and right- 
 eousness everlastingly rewarded. And 
 it is to my mind one of the most touch- 
 ing of the circumstances which charac- 
 terize their condition, that God, in mak- 
 ing inquisition for the blood of their son, 
 should have given a voice, as it were, to 
 the dead body, but none to the living 
 soul. Oh, how soothingly would it have 
 fallen on the ear of the agonized parents, 
 had God spoken of Abel as existing in 
 the invisible world, as testifying; by his 
 presence in some bright scene which the 
 spoiler could not enter, that the hand of 
 violence had forced him from the earth. 
 That Abel had fallen by the hand of his 
 brother, was the most terrible of all pos- 
 sible proofs, that the original transgres- 
 sion had corrupted human nature to the 
 core. But it would have done much — 
 not indeed to counterbalance this proof, 
 but to soften the anguish which it could 
 not fail to produce — had there been any 
 intimation that the death of the body 
 was not the death of the man, and that 
 Cain had but removed Abel from a scene 
 of trouble to one of deep repose. 
 
 This however was denied them : they 
 must struggle on throuqh darkness, sus- 
 tained only by a dim conjecture of life 
 and immortality. Indeed, indeed, I 
 know not whether there be any thing 
 more affecting in the history of our first 
 parents. Oh, bless God, ye who have 
 had to sorrow over dead children, that 
 ye live when life and immortality have 
 been brought to light by the Gospel. 
 Your's has not been the deep and deso- 
 late bitterness of those on whom fell no 
 
 shillings from futurity. Unto you havo 
 come sweet whisperings from the invi- 
 sible world, whisperings as of the one 
 whom you loved, telling you of a better 
 land, where " the wicked cease from 
 troubling, and the weary are at rest." 
 But alas for Adam and Eve ! their's was 
 grief, stern, dark, unmingled. Taught 
 by the foul deed of Cain how fatally 
 they had tainted their nature, they were 
 not also taught, by any information as to 
 the condition of Abel, how nevertheless 
 that nature might be purified and exalt- 
 ed. They listen with all earnestness as 
 God prosecutes inquiry into the murder. 
 Perhaps some consolatory word will be 
 dropped, some expression which shall 
 partially disclose to them the secrets of 
 the grave. But they listen in vain ; the 
 time has not yet come when God would 
 please to reveal another world ; and it 
 must have been almost as though there 
 had been a repetition of the stroke which 
 had made them so heavy at heart, when 
 in place of any notice of the soul of 
 Abel, they only heard God declare, 
 " The voice of thy brother's blood crieth 
 unto me from the ground. " 
 
 But indeed there are better things to 
 be said on the fact, that it was Abel's 
 blood, and not his soul, which found a 
 voice to demand vengeance on the mur- 
 derer. The souls, as we have seen from 
 the Book of Revelation, of numbers who 
 had fallen by the sword of persecution, 
 cried to God that He would judge those 
 whose cruelty had forced them from 
 the earth. But we can hardly interpret 
 this cry as that of a desire for revenge, 
 — revenge, that is, for wrongs individu- 
 ally and personally received. There 
 were something quite at variance with 
 our every notion of glorified spirits, in 
 supposing that, in place of forgiving 
 their enemies, they long and pray for 
 their being destroyed. The best inter- 
 pretation therefore, which we can put 
 on the passage in the Book of Revela- 
 tion, would seem to be, that, forasmuch 
 as the persecutors were the enemies of 
 God, and the great desire of the souls 
 of the righteous must be for the glory 
 of God, the cry, " How long, O Lord, 
 holy and true 1 ?" denotes intense long- 
 ing for the predicted season when the 
 kingdoms of the world are to become 
 the kingdoms of the Lord and of his 
 Christ, when all opposing powers shall 
 finally yield to that of the Mediator. 
 
 17 
 
130 
 
 THE EXAMINATION OF CAIN. 
 
 There may be a difficulty in clearing a 
 desire for vengeance of all unholy pas- 
 sion, when the parties on whom the ven- 
 
 injurious, as was expressed by Christ 
 when being crucified, and by Stephen 
 when being stoned. " Father, forgive 
 
 geance is to descend have cruelly wrong- i them, for they know not what they do," 
 
 exclaimed Jesus as his murderers nailed 
 Him to the tree. And just ere he fell 
 asleep, Stephen " kneeled down, and 
 cried with a loud voice, Lord, lay not 
 this sin to their charge.'"' We know not 
 how Abel, the first martyr, died. We 
 are not told what was his last utterance, 
 nor what the look which he cast upon 
 Cain, as he felt that life was ebbing fast 
 away. But we seem able to follow his 
 spirit into the separate state ; and we 
 may venture to gather that he died with 
 forgiveness on his lips, from the fact 
 that he entered God's presence with no 
 complaint against his murderer. He 
 could not cause that the dumb should 
 not speak. He could not prevent the 
 ground, which had drunk in his blood, 
 from crying unto God to avenge the foul 
 outrage. But the immortal principle, 
 which might have poured forth the nar- 
 rative of the crime, and have besought 
 that the Lord, to whom vengeance be- 
 loDgeth, would interpose for the pun- 
 ishment of the criminal — this appears to 
 have been meekly silent, as though it 
 would have shielded the murderer, rath- 
 er than have exposed him, to his just re- 
 tribution. 
 
 Oh, I cannot but think that in God's 
 
 ed those by whom the desire is express 
 ed : but we must believe that hereafter, 
 when every lesser feeling shall be ab- 
 sorbed in those of love of (rod and zeal 
 for his honor, there will be a holy long- 
 ing for the overthrow of the inveterate 
 foes of the Church, which shall have no 
 alliance whatsoever with what we now 
 call vindictiveness, though these foes 
 may have been personally injurious to 
 the glorified spirits. 
 
 If there were, nothing to be avenged 
 but wrongs done to themselves, it can- 
 not be thought that souks in the separate 
 state would cry lor the lighting: down of 
 God's mighty arm. But it is also God 
 who has been wronged ; it is God's 
 honor which has to be vindicated!; and 
 souls which would breathe only forgive- 
 ness for any personal injury, may mani- 
 fest nothing but the ardency of the ho- 
 liest affection in breathing desires for 
 vengeance on those who have done de- 
 spite to the Creator and Redeemer. 
 
 And yet, though we cannot charge any 
 thing of human vindictiveness on the 
 souls of them slain for the word of God, 
 which St. John saw beneath the altar, 
 we must all feel as though there were 
 something beautifully expressive in the 
 silence maintained by the spirit of Abel, i reference to the blood of Abel as the on- 
 It would indeed, as we have said, have ; ly accuser, there was a designed and 
 • served as a Revelation, full of consola- ; beautiful lesson as to the forgiveness of 
 tory truth to Adam and Eve, had God injuries. Cod was not pleased to give, 
 
 assigned a voice to the soul, rather than 
 to the blood, of their slaughtered son. 
 But who would not have felt as though 
 it had been to make Abel revengeful, to 
 represent his spirit as crying to the Al- 
 mighty for judgment on his murderer ? 
 The case would have been different from 
 that of the souls under the altar, inas- 
 much as the wrong had been more evi- 
 dently personal, directed against the in- 
 dividual, rather than against a body, to 
 i.ijure which was to offer insult to Cod. 
 And we could not therefore have so easi- 
 ly disentangled the expressed desire" for 
 vengeance from all those earthly and 
 sinful feelings which cannot, as we know, 
 have any subsistence in the disembodied 
 souls of the righteous. But now we 
 seem to find, in the silence of Abel's 
 spirit, the same forbearance, the same 
 
 at the moment, an explicit revelation at 
 to the immortality of Abel, hut so fai 
 ;; thaf immortality was ascertained from 
 other source's, and in proportion that, ii> 
 the pro ■■• . ; of time, it grew into an ar- 
 ticle of faith, there was a most expres- 
 sive statement as to the character which 
 God requires in those whom He accepts, 
 in the statement that it was not Abel, 
 but only his blood, which cried out for 
 vengeance. You know, that, in the ( ros- 
 pel, our obtaining forgiveness from God 
 is made conditional on our forgiving 
 those by whom we may be wronged. 
 " For if ye forgive men their trespasses, 
 your heavenly Father will also forgive 
 you. But if ye forgive not men their 
 trespasses, neither will your Father for- 
 give your trespasses." And was not the 
 same truth taught, by example, if not by 
 
 eagerness for the good of the cruel and I word, from the earliest days, seeing 
 
THE EXAMINATION OF CAIN. 
 
 131 
 
 that, when God would bring an accusing- 
 voice against Cain, He could only find 
 it in the dumb earth reeking with blood, 
 though the soul of Abel was before Him, 
 and might have been thought ready to 
 give witness with an exceeding great 
 and bitter cry 1 Abel forgave his mur- 
 derer — otherwise could he not have been 
 forgiven of God — and we learn that he 
 forgave his murderer, from the fact, that 
 it was only his blood which cried aloud 
 for vengeance. 
 
 Thus is there something very in- 
 structive in the absence of any voice but 
 the voice from the ground. There is 
 also matter for deep thought in the fact, 
 that it was blood which sent up so pene- 
 trating a cry. It was like teilimr the 
 young world of the power which there 
 would be in blood to gain audience of 
 the Most High. I do not say, that, 
 whilst there were yet but feeble notices 
 of a Redeemer, men might gather, from 
 the energy ascribed to the blood of Abel, 
 the virtue which would be resident in 
 that of Christ. But to ourselves, unto 
 whom has been laid open the great 
 scheme of redemption, it may certainly 
 come like one of the first notices of 
 atonement through blood, which speak- 
 eth better things than that of Abel, that 
 so mighty a voice went up in accusation 
 of Cain. What was there in blood, that 
 it could give, as it were, life to inanimate 
 things, causing them to become vocal, 
 so that the very Godhead Himself was 
 moved by the sound ] The utterance, 
 we think, did but predict that when one, 
 
 to whom Abel had had respect in pre- 
 senting in sacrifice the firstlings of his 
 flock, should fall, as Abel fell, beneath 
 the malice of the wicked, there would 
 go up from the shed blood a voice that 
 would be hearkened to in the* heavenly 
 courts, and prevail to the obtaining what- 
 soever it should ask. 
 
 Blessed be God that this blood docs 
 not plead for vengeance alone. It does 
 plead for vengeance on the obdurate, 
 who, like Cain, resist the invitation of 
 God : but it pleads also for the pardon 
 of the murderers, so that it can expiate 
 the crime which it proves and attests. 
 And whilst the blood of the slain pleads 
 for us, the slain Himself is not silent. 
 Abel could only refrain from speech in 
 the invisible world — but Christ is not 
 merely not our accuser, He is even our 
 advocate. O blessed and glorious differ- 
 ence! We have not, like Cain, raised 
 the hand to slay a brother, but alas ! we 
 have destroyed ourselves; and the cry 
 for vengeance ascends from a creation 
 which "groaneth andtravaileth" through 
 this our iniquity. But this cry is lost 
 in a mightier, the cry, " It is finished," 
 the cry of a surety, the cry of an Inter- 
 cessor. Let us only then take heed that 
 we copy not Cain in his insolent refusal 
 to acknowledge his guilt, and though, 
 as against him, there be a cry from the 
 earth, demanding our punishment, there 
 will be a cry from the firmament which 
 was silent, if it did not accuse the mur- 
 derer — " Deliver them from going 1 down 
 into the pit; I have found a ransom." 
 
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 as in former years, a general assortment of Religious Works, 
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 Of every size and description of binding. Also, the Church Lesson? 
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