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 <J\/\jchael Tiniest Sadler 
 llnwers'itu Colleat 
 Oxford 
 
 ie-^
 
 MORAL SKETCHES 
 
 or 
 PREVAILING 
 
 OPINIONS and MANNERS, 
 
 FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC: 
 
 WITH 
 
 ^Reflections on praper* 
 
 By HANNAH MORE. 
 
 Let us make a stand on the ancient ways, and then look about 
 us, and discover what is the straight aud right way, and walk 
 in it. Lord Bacon on Innovation. 
 
 I know not which is the greater wonder, either that prayer, 
 which is a duty so easy and facile, so ready and apted to the 
 powers and skill and opportunities or every man, should have so 
 great effects, and be productive of such mighty_ blessings ; or that 
 we should be so unwilling to use so easy an instrument of pro- 
 ducing so much good. Bishop Jeremy Taylor. 
 
 Zt>e tStytrtj ©toiriotu 
 
 LONDON: 
 PRINTED FOR T. CADELL AND W. DAVU36* 
 
 IN THE STRAND. 
 1819.
 
 ■ 
 
 has ftsoh 
 
 : 
 
 •• " 
 
 . 
 
 Printed by Strahan and Spqttiswoode, 
 Printers- Street, L ondon. 
 
 ' ' '
 
 ®? n 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 It is with the sincerest satisfaction, and 
 the most lively gratitude to God, that 
 the writer of these pages is enabled to 
 bear her feeble but heartfelt testimony, 
 to the progress which religion has made, 
 and is making, amongst us, especially in 
 the higher, and even the highest, ranks 
 of society. 
 
 At a period, therefore, abounding and 
 advancing in almost every kind of reli- 
 gious improvement, she may be thought 
 by those who would be looking for con- 
 gratulation rather than caution, to have 
 imposed on herself an invidious task, in 
 choosing to dwell less on the triumphs of 
 
 A 2 • 
 
 Ji 

 
 JV PREFACE. 
 
 Christianity, than on the dangers or the 
 errors of some of its professors. Yet she 
 is persuaded that they who have made 
 the greatest proficiency in piety will be 
 the most ready to forgive the intimations, 
 of which they stand in the least need. 
 
 It may, however, justly be said, that 
 the writer might have found more appro- 
 priate objects of censure amongst the 
 worldly and the irreligious, than in the 
 more respectable classes whom she has 
 taken the liberty to make the subject of 
 animadversion. But the truth is, the 
 thoughtless and the profligate have been 
 so successively and so perseveringly at- 
 tacked by far more powerful pens ; have 
 been so long assailed by the monitory 
 maxims of the moralist, pelted by the 
 missile weapons of the satirist, and 
 chastised by the grave rebuke of the 
 divine, that, with due deference, she 
 turns over the hitherto incorrigible to 
 stronger and more efficient hands ; while 
 she ventures to address her observances 
 to other quarters, where there will be 
 14
 
 PREFACE. V 
 
 more hope of forgiveness, and less 4e8$air 
 of success. frorto Vi'ons 
 
 She does not therefore appeal to those 
 who P Hear not Moses and the Pro- 
 phets," but rather to those who, hearing, 
 neglect them ; and especially to those 
 who, in some awful instances, mis- 
 represent them. She presumes, with re- 
 spect and diffidence, to expostulate with 
 some, who, though exempt from pal- 
 pable defects in practice, yet require to 
 be reminded that speculative errors can- 
 not be indulged without danger ; and 
 to intimate to others, that the practice 
 may be faulty where there are no material 
 errors in the creed. Doubtless indif- 
 ference to religion will hereafter be more 
 severely judged, than mistakes in it, 
 especially if the latter be found to pro- 
 ceed from the head, as the other more 
 apparently does from the heart. 
 ■ The remarks in the early part of this 
 volume, on the excess of continental inter- 
 course, will probably be accused of blame- 
 able scrupulosity, and the writer be charged 
 a 3
 
 r p PREFACE. 
 
 with unnecessary rigour. Yet what en- 
 lightened conscience will deny that some 
 of the habits to which allusion is made, 
 militate as much against the self-denying 
 Spirit of our religion as more ostensible 
 faults. They would not, however, have 
 been noticed, had they been confined 
 to trifling and common characters j but 
 the least error that grows into a habit, and 
 that habit sanctioned by the countenance 
 of the worthy and respectable, become* 
 more important than even the vices of 
 ordinary men or frivolous women, in 
 lamenting the probably injurious conse r 
 quences to a large proportion of the 
 myriads who are still, with unabated 
 eagerness, crowding to a foreign shore, 
 the author is fully persuaded that many 
 amongst them carry out principles too 
 .deeply rooted, to be shaken by unprofitr 
 able intercourse, and morals too correct 
 to be infected by the fascinations of plea- 
 sure. But who will deny that the counte- 
 nance of those who escape the injury give* 
 an authority to those who receive it ? . In 
 *3
 
 PREFACE. Vll 
 
 this view, the wisest and most correct of 
 our emigrants, may, by lending them- 
 selves to the practice, furnish, in the 
 result, an apology for things which they 
 themselves disapprove; and thus their 
 example may be pleaded, as favouring 
 what they would be amongst the last to 
 tolerate. 
 
 That long and frequent absences from 
 our home, and especially from our coun- 
 try, are not favourable to the mind, is 
 but too visible in that spirit of restless- 
 ness induced, by so many who have 
 repeatedly made the experiment. For 
 it is observable that the desire once in- 
 dulged, instead of being coaled, is in- 
 flamed; inclination becomes voracity. 
 Appetite has grown with indulgence. 
 And is it not to be feared that the 
 sober scenes of domestic, and espe- 
 cially of rural life, will continue to 
 appear more and more insipid in pro- 
 portion to the frequency with which 
 they are deserted? Will not successive 
 and protracted carnivals convert the 
 
 A 4
 
 VHl PREFACE. 
 
 quiet scenes of home enjoyment into 
 what the poet calls" a lenten entertah,. 
 ment ?" 
 
 Home is at once the scene or repose 
 and of activity. A country gentleman 
 of rank and fortune is the sun of a little 
 system, the movements of which his in- 
 fluence controls. It is at home that he 
 feels his real importance, his usefulness, 
 and his dignity. Each diminishes in pro- 
 portion to the distance he wanders from 
 liis proper orbit. The old English gentry 
 kept up the reverence and secured the 
 attachment of their dependants by living 
 among them. Personal affection was 
 maintained by the presence of the bene- 
 factor. Subordination had a visible head. 
 Whereas obedience to a master they do 
 not see savours too much of allegiance to 
 a foreign power. 
 
 We know that the Roman hero who 
 transgressed the boundaries of his own 
 province by once crossing the Rubicon, 
 changed the whole condition, circum* 
 stances, constitution, and character of
 
 PREFACft. U & 
 
 his country. May not the reiterated 
 passage of the Straits of Dover eventually 
 produce moral changes not less im- 
 portant? * pm ° ~ 
 
 t r * bill* 
 
 The mischiefs effected by these inces- 
 sant migrations may, indeed, be slow, 
 but they are progressive. Principles 
 which would revolt at the idea of any 
 sudden change, are melted down by the 
 gradual relaxation of continued contact. 
 Complacency in the soothing enjoyment 
 creeps on by almost imperceptible ad- 
 vances. The revolution is not the less 
 certain, because it is not acknowledged. 
 The conscience, too, is quieted by the 
 geographical anodyne — " I would not 
 do in England what I think it no harm 
 to do in Paris." 
 
 Might not a fair practical appeal be 
 made to the different state of the feelings 
 of many of oar travellers, on witnessing 
 the open violation of the sanctity of the 
 first Sunday, and the twentieth repetition 
 of the same abuse? Who can affirm, 
 tft'at familiarity has not gradually dimi- 
 a 5
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 nished the alarm, and in a good measure 
 suppressed the indignation? Who will 
 assert, that this succession of desecrated 
 sabbaths has produced no alteration in 
 the state of their feelings, except that of 
 reconciling them to the practice. They, 
 indeed, who had made such a proficiency 
 in religion as to maintain an unabated 
 sense of the evil, would be the least likely 
 unnecessarily to expose their principles 
 to such a risk. * 
 
 For the bold remarks on this dangerous 
 and delicate subject, the culprit throws 
 herself on the mercy, and the anglicism 
 of her readers j on the courtesy of those, 
 whose kindness she hopes will not be for- 
 feited, by her having shown herself too 
 exclusively an Englishwoman. Anxious, 
 perhaps to a fault, for the welfare, the 
 
 • 
 * Some friends of the writer, men of the first 
 respectability, who during the late war commanded 
 volunteer corps, have acknowledged to her, that 
 when first called out to drill on Sundays, their re- 
 ligious feelings were most painfully wounded, but 
 by long habit, it gradually became a matter of in- 
 difference to them.
 
 preface.: xi: 
 
 honour, the prosperity, the character of: 
 this Queen of Islands, she yet believes 
 that there are to be found worse preju- 
 dices than those national attachments, 
 which in her are irreclaimable. * 
 
 It is not, however, to be conceded, that 
 the term prejudice, so frequently applied 
 to these attachments, is, by this applica- 
 tion, legitimately used. If prejudice, in 
 its true definition, signifies prepossession, 
 judgment formed beforehand, fondness 
 adopted previously to knowledge, notions 
 cherished without inquiry, opinions taken 
 up, and acted upon without examination, 
 • — if these be its real significations, and 
 what lexicographer will deny that they 
 are ? then how can this term be applied 
 to the more enlightened Britons ? How 
 can it be applied to men who, inde- 
 pendently of the natural fondness for the 
 
 * These prefatory apologies for the offences of a 
 subsequent chapter, will, it is to be feared, remind 
 .the reader of the prudent sinner mentioned by Lu- 
 ther, who in going to purchase indulgences for the 
 faults he had already committed, purchased another 
 for a fault he intended to commit. 
 
 A 6
 
 XH. PHEFACE. 
 
 SOsli'aad all the objects which endear it ; 
 who, in addition to this instinctive at- 
 tachment) feel, acknowledge, and enjoy, 
 in their native country, all the substantial 
 blessings which make life worth living 
 for ; a constitution, the best that mortal 
 man has ever yet devised ; a religion, 
 above the powers of man indeed to con- 
 ceive, but reformed and carried to per- 
 fection by his agency, taught by the 
 wisdom of God, led by the guidance of 
 his word, and the direction of his Spirit, 
 A system of civil and religious liberty, 
 which* while certain miscreants at home 
 are labouring to destroy under the pre- 
 tence of improving, some foreign coun- 
 tries are imitating, and all are envying. 
 Institutions, which promise to convey 
 the chief of these blessings to the re- 
 motest lands j — if all these assertions are 
 true, let it be again asked, whether, if 
 an intimate knowledge, and a long enjoy- 
 ment of these blessings, should have pro- 
 duced a filial fondness for such a country, 
 that attachment can be denominated pre^
 
 PREFACB* • 
 
 judice, a word which, let it be repeated, 
 was only meant to express blind zeal, 
 neglected examination, and contented 
 ignorance ? n ftUttft ffl ttftfl imti « » 
 
 May not this growing attachment for 
 foreign manners, by wearing out domestic- 
 attachments, create a powerful prepon- 
 derance in the opposite scale ? The Eng- 
 lish partialities being cured, may not 
 those who shall have conquered them, 
 become more satisfied with their acquired, 
 than their former tastes y may they not 
 fancy, that they are grown more candid, 
 when, perhaps, they are only become 
 less conscientious? When the mind is 
 softened down by pleasurable sensations, 
 pleased with every thing about it, it be- 
 comes pleased with itself; begins to look 
 back on its former scrupulous character 
 with present triumph, rejoices in its en- 
 largement from its previous narrowness ; 
 congratulates itself on its acquired libe- 
 rality, calls what was firmness, bigotry ; 
 and thus to the altered character, the 
 
 -:'\Mi lj
 
 X$V PREFACE. 
 
 strictness it carried abroad, appears rigour 
 on its return home ? 
 
 That the attraction may be inviting, 
 and the temptation considerable, is readily 
 allowed ; but if once the Tightness of an 
 action should come to be determined by 
 its pleasantness, an entirely new system 
 of morals must be introduced amongst 
 Christians ; the question then would be 
 no longer, what ought we to do, but what 
 should we like to do ? That the tempta- 
 tion is not irresistible, appears in the self- 
 denial of those who continue to withstand 
 it : many who have felt the desire have 
 prudently deferred its gratification to a 
 safer season ; while others continue to 
 doubt its general expediency. * 
 
 That many among our innumerable 
 travellers, have gone abroad on the rea- 
 sonable ground of health, as well as for 
 the necessary purposes of business, is not 
 to be doubted. And who will deny that 
 some men of great ability and high prin- 
 ciple, have gone with the meritorious
 
 PREFACE. VJW 
 
 desire, of doing moral and religious good, 
 in various directions ; and that they have, 
 in no inconsiderable degree, effected it, 
 or at least have opened a door for further 
 improvement? On the other hand the 
 disgraceful truth must not be concealed, 
 that others have carried out more evil 
 from home, than they found abroad. 
 
 It would be uncharitable and unchris- 
 tian, to desire to maintain a spirit of hos- 
 tility between near neighbours ; but when 
 neighbours have been so frequently on 
 the alert to find pretences for disagree- 
 ment, and national safety has sometimes 
 been endangered by the quarrels of indi- 
 viduals, will not good neighbourhood be 
 more -probably promoted by friendly dis- 
 positions and mutual good offices on the 
 respective shores, than by obtrusive 
 visits, which, if they were thoroughly 
 liked, would doubtless be more frequently 
 returned ? 
 
 For is it not worthy of remark, that we 
 only refuse to imitate our continental 
 neighbours, in the very point in which
 
 XVi PREFACE. 
 
 they are really respectable ? They stay 
 at home. Even if they do so with the 
 same proud self-preference, which made 
 ancient Rome call all the other nations 
 of the world barbarians, it is at least an 
 honest and a patriotic partiality. Would 
 not the natives of our happy land, who 
 have less to gain, and more to lose, do 
 well to follow their example in this ho- 
 nourable instance ? They prudently aug- 
 ment the resources of their country in 
 two ways, by spending their own money 
 in their own land, with the additional 
 profit of holding out to us those allure- 
 ments, which cause ours to be spent 
 there also. 
 
 iXfl/i 
 O England ! model to thy inward greatness, 
 Like little body with a mighty heart ! 
 What might'st thou do that honour bids thee do, 
 Were all thy children kind and natural! "■-» iiiiis 
 But see, thy fault France hath in thee found out,, 
 
 Shakspeajie. 
 
 ton 
 While the pen is in the hand of th§** 
 writer, fresh intelligence is brought of 
 conspiracies forming in different parts of
 
 PREFACE. XVli 
 
 the kingdom for its destruction. .^Q^ 
 she, therefore, forbear repeating, that if 
 her degenerate sons betray her, and her 
 honourable sons desert her, her perils are 
 indeed imminent ? ,,- f { > ^ 
 
 At her advanced age the writer has 
 little to hope from praise, or little to fear 
 from censure, except as her views may 
 have been in a right or a wrong direction. 
 She has felt that a renewed attention to 
 growing errors is a duty on those who 
 have the good of mankind at heart. The 
 more nearly her time approaches for her 
 leaving the world, there is a sense in 
 which she feels herself more strongly \tyr v 
 terested in it ; she means in an increasing 
 anxiety for its improvement ; for its ad- 
 vance in all that is right in principle, and 
 virtuous in action. And as the events 
 and experience of every day convince 
 her, that there is no true virtue which is 
 not founded in religion, and no true re- 
 ligion which is not maintained by pkayeh, 
 she hopes to be forgiven if, with declining 
 years aud faculties, yet with increasing
 
 X*$ti PREFACE. 
 
 earnestness, from increasing conviction 
 of its value, she once more ventures to 
 impress this last, important topic, on 
 their attentioii^nfjtfo^jo 
 
 If then she has enlarged even to dif- 
 fuseness on the subject of prayer, it is 
 because she is fervently desirous to sug- 
 gest it, as the surest counteractive of 
 those many aberrations of heart and prac- 
 tice but too visible amongst us. In some 
 former publications, however, she had 
 expatiated so largely on this inexhaustible 
 topic, that, in order to avoid repetition, 
 she has chiefly limited her present observ- 
 ations on prayer to the errors which may 
 prevent its efficacy, together with allur 
 sions to certain classes of character in 
 whom these errors most abound. 
 
 In taking her final leave of her readers, 
 may she be allowed to express her grati- 
 tude for their long and unwearied in- 
 dulgence ; for a patience which the too 
 frequent demands made on it could not 
 exhaust; for their candour in forgiving 
 her bold remonstrances : for their kind-
 
 PREFACE. Xix 
 
 ness in bearing with her faults in consi- 
 deration of her desire to be useful *, and 
 for extending to one who had nothing to 
 offer but right intentions, that favour to 
 which merit might have put in a fairer 
 claim. 
 
 rciiJ 
 
 Barley Wood* i'g 
 
 J«^SMft,1819. symiu^otfl 
 
 »mo x>i iud voti 
 
 bsrf v6t , : xonrmk 
 
 Mmm, -■qxo 
 
 t aotiit f j< ,oiqoi 
 •vtsedo 
 yam fibi 
 
 III i3lJ k :*... ffOI» 
 
 -til by; 
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 12 Hi
 
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 ... 

 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 
 
 FOREIGN SKETCHES. 
 
 Page 
 
 Foreign Associations - - -3 
 
 French Opinion of English Society - 24 
 
 English Opinion of French Society - 43 
 
 England's best Hope - - -81 
 
 DOMESTIC SKETCHES. 
 
 On Soundness in Judgment, and Consist- 
 ency in Conduct - - - 1 1 7 
 Novel Opinions in Religion - 1 3 1 
 111 Effects of the late Secession - - 1 69 
 Exertions of pious Ladies - - 1 92 
 High Profession and negligent Practice - 215 
 Auricular Confession - - 232 
 Unprofitable Reading - - 238 
 The Borderers • - - -.250
 
 XXli <5QNTENTS. 
 
 REFLECTIONS ON PRAYER. 
 
 On the Corruption of Human Nature - 277 
 False Notions of the Dignity of Man, shown 
 
 from his Helplessness and Dependence 295 
 The Obligation of Prayer universal. — 
 Regular Seasons to be observed. — The 
 Sceptic and the Sensualist reject Prayer 306 
 Errors in Prayer, which may hinder its 
 being answered. — The proud Man's 
 Prayer. — The patient Christian. — 
 False Excuses under the Pretence of 
 Inability - - - - 322 
 
 God our Father. — Our Unwillingness to 
 please Him. — Forms of Prayer. — Great 
 and Little Sins. — All Sin an Oflfence 
 against God. — Benefit of habitual 
 Prayer - 34-8 
 
 The Doctrine of imputed Sanctification, 
 newly adopted. — The old one of pro- 
 gressive Sanctification newly rejected. — 
 The adoption of the one and the re- 
 jection of the other hostile to Prayer. — 
 St. Paul's Character - - - 361 
 
 Character of those who expect Salvation 
 for their good Works. — Of those who 
 depend on a careless nominal Faith.-—
 
 CONTENTS. XKU1 
 
 Page 
 
 Both these Characters unfavourable to 
 Prayer. — Christianity a Religion of 
 Love which disposes to Prayer, exhi- 
 bited in a third Character - - 377 
 
 Prayer. — The Condition of its attendant 
 Blessings. — Useless Contention about 
 Terms .... 394 
 
 Vain Excuses for the Neglect of Prayer. 
 — The Man of Business. — Case of 
 Nehemiah. — Prayer against the Fear 
 of Death. — Characters to whom this 
 Prayer is recommended - - 404 
 
 The Consolations of Prayer. — Its perpe- 
 tual Obligation - - - 423 
 
 On intercessory Prayer - - - 441 
 
 The Praying Christian in the World. — 
 The Promise of Rest to the Christian 451 
 
 The Lord's Prayer, a Model both for our 
 Devotion and our Practice. — It teaches 
 the Duty of promoting Schemes to 
 advance the Glory of God - - 471 
 
 Conclusion - 496
 
 SKETCHES 
 
 ov 
 
 FOREIGN MANNERS.
 
 3M01TAIDC 
 
 m bfuorfe :: 
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 -
 
 - 
 
 FOREIGN ASSOCIATIONS. 
 
 7 
 
 We had fervently hoped, during a war 
 unparalleled in duration and severity, 
 that if ever the blessing of peace should 
 be restored, all would be well again : we 
 had hoped, that at least we should be 
 brought back to our previous situation 
 with that improvement in humility and 
 gratitude, which the remembrance of 
 past sufferings, and recent deliverance 
 from those sufferings, would seem na- 
 turally to produce. If our pleasant feel- 
 ings in such a prospective event were 
 shaded at all, it was simply by the irre- 
 parable and individual loss of a father, 
 son, or brother, which almost every 
 family, of every rank, had sustained. 
 Peace was at length providentially granted 
 to our arms and to our prayers ; but all 
 b 2
 
 4 FOREIGN ASSOCIATION'S. 
 
 the blessings we had anticipated did not 
 return in her train : 
 
 Ease still recants 
 Vows made fn pain as violent and void. 
 
 Were it not almost doubtful whether 
 in some respects the change may have 
 proved a benefit, if it should be found 
 to be the choice between the two evils, 
 the waste of human lives, or the decay of 
 moral principles ? Some scrupulous per- 
 sons may even think it requires no very 
 correct arithmetic to determine on the 
 comparative value of perishable lives 
 and immortal souls. 
 
 What then was the first use we made 
 of a benefit so earnestly implored, — a 
 blessing which we fondly flattered our- 
 selves would be converted to so many 
 salutary purposes ? This peace, for which 
 so many prayers were offered, so many 
 fasts appointed ; — this peace, whose re- 
 turn was. celebrated by thanksgivings in 
 every church, and, as we hope, in every
 
 FOREIGN ASSOCIATIONS. O 
 
 house, and in every heart, to what pur- 
 pose was its restoration devoted ? 
 
 This peace was seized on, not as a 
 means to repair, in some measure, the 
 ravages which were made on the com- 
 merce, the property, the comforts, as 
 well as the population of our country ; 
 but must it not, in may instances, be 
 said truly, though most painfully said, to 
 vary their nature, and enhance their 
 malignity? Instead of sedulously em- 
 ploying it to raise us to our former 
 situation, by a prudent restriction in our 
 indulgences, an increased residence in 
 our respective districts, and an endeavour 
 to .lighten the difficulties of government, 
 by the continued contribution of its 
 rightful supplies ; — instead of using it to 
 mitigate the distresses, and to restrain 
 the crimes of the lower orders, by living 
 in the midst of them, each at his natural 
 and appropriate station, and thus neu- 
 tralising a spirit of disaffection, which 
 took advantage only of their absence to 
 break out ; — instead of improving its 
 b 3
 
 6 FOREIGN ASSOCIATIONS. 
 
 opportunities, or providing against the 
 impending scarcity, which the desertion 
 j Of the rich increased almost to famine, in 
 giving employment to the industrious, 
 relief to the sick, and bread to the 
 famished ; — instead of each centinel re- 
 maining at his providentially appointed 
 
 I 
 
 watch, — at this critical moment, a very 
 large proportion of our nobles and gentry, 
 an indefinite number of our laity, and 
 not a few of our clergy, that important 
 part of the community, of which the 
 situation is peculiarly local, — all these, 
 as if simultaneously seized by that mania 
 which, in fabulous history, is said to have 
 sent one unfortunate object of divine per- 
 secution wandering through the world, — 
 all these important portions of our 
 country at once abandoned it. The only 
 use they made of peace was to fly, with 
 most unrighteous speed, to the authors of 
 our calamities, and of such calamities as 
 it might be thought could not at once 
 have been forgotten, to visit a country 
 which had filled our own with widows
 
 FOREIGN ASSOCIATIONS. 7 
 
 and orphans, which had made the rest of 
 Europe a scene of desolation. 
 
 Not only hundreds of thousands of our 
 country, men, and women, and children, 
 but millions of our money, so severely 
 wanted at home, were transported from 
 every port to visit this lately execrated 
 country. To visit, did I say ? that had 
 been little ; — a short excursion to feed 
 the eye, and gratify the taste with pic- 
 tures and statues, might have been 
 pleaded as a natural temptation. 
 
 Here we conceive the grave Christian 
 moralist will censure the writer, as much 
 as she censures the emigrants. He will 
 say, ** the desire is too natural to be 
 right." If we plead in mitigation of da- 
 mages, that it was innocent curiosity, we 
 shall be told, that it was a curiosity which 
 one of our first parents believed innocent, 
 but which lost them both Paradise. If 
 it was a desire of knowledge, it might 
 be a knowledge better unknown; if to 
 cure those prejudices, " for which our 
 country is a name so dear," such pre- 
 b 4
 
 : S FOREIGN ASSOCIATIONS* 
 
 judices may better be retained than 
 cured. 
 
 But be this as it may, the truth is, that 
 to multitudes, France was not made a 
 place of visit, but a home. For when 
 these wonderful productions of art were 
 restored to the places from whence they 
 had been feloniously taken, did that allay 
 the hunger of emigration ? France be- 
 came the settled residence of multitudes. 
 France was made a scene for the educa- 
 tion of English, of Protestant children! 
 Sons and daughters, even in the middle 
 ranks of life, were transported thither 
 with an eagerness, as if the land of blood 
 had been the land of promise. And as 
 all fashions descend, not a few of our 
 once simple, plain-hearted English yeo- 
 men were drawn in to follow the exam- 
 ple of their betters, as they are not very 
 correctly called. The infection became 
 general, nor has time as yet stayed the 
 plague. 
 ,,,A late French wit*, who always pre- 
 
 * Voltaire.
 
 FOREIGN ASSOCIATIONS. ' 9 
 
 ferred a calumny to a fact, and was more 
 fond of giving a neat turn to a sentence, 
 than of speaking truth, after visiting this 
 country about the middle of the last cen- 
 tury, characterised its natives by saying, 
 the English people resembled their own 
 beer, the top was all froth, the bottom 
 all dregs, but the middle was excellent. 
 If this were at that time true, the middle ^ 
 class has now merged its distinctive cha- 
 racter in the other two ; it is abandoning 
 the honourable station in the cup which 
 it then held, is adopting its worst ingre- 
 dients from above and below ; and by its 
 mixture with the froth and the feculence, 
 has considerably lessened its claim to its 
 once distinct commendation.* 
 
 But the evil, great as it is, does nolt 
 end here ; numbers of a higher strain 
 remain domiciliated in France, and too 
 many who are returned, are more than 
 
 * It is almost too ludicrous to assert, that the wife 
 of a reputable farmer being asked lately what she 
 had done with her daughter, replied, " I have 
 Frenched her and musicked her, and shall now carry 
 her to France." 
 
 B 5
 
 10 FOREIGN ASSOCIATIONS. 
 
 ever assimilated with French manners. 
 It is to be feared, that with French 
 habits, French principles may be im- 
 ported. French alliances are contracted, 
 as almost every newspaper records ; and, 
 an innovation which had hitherto been 
 firmly resisted, a French theatre is esta- 
 blished. We are losing our national 
 character. The deterioration is by many 
 thought already visible. In a few years, 
 if things proceed in their present course, 
 or rather with increasing velocity — which 
 is always the case with downward tenden- 
 cies — the strong and discriminating fea- 
 tures of the English heart and mind will 
 be obliterated, and we shall be lost in the 
 undistinguished mass. 
 
 In the mean time let us take warning 
 from the consideration, that the first 
 stage of decline is the beginning of dis- 
 solution. Whatever has begun already 
 to decay, is not far from perishing. This 
 contagious intercourse has been too pro- 
 bably the cause of the recent multiplica- 
 tion of those great Sunday entertainments,
 
 FOREIGN ASSOCIATIONS. 
 
 11 
 
 in the diminution of which we had begun 
 to rejoice ; a multiplication which is as 
 likely to contribute to the decline of relii 
 gion in the domestic arrangements of the 
 great, as any more obvious and ostensible 
 evil. 
 
 What would the veteran moralist, who, 
 in his beautiful and vigorous satire, in- 
 dignantly exclaimed, 
 
 I cannot bear a French metropolis ; 
 
 What would Johnson have said had he 
 been spared till now ? 
 
 How would he laugh at Britain's modern tribe, 
 Dart the keen taunt, and edge the piercing gibe ! 
 
 How would he have poured out his ready 
 wrath, his cutting sarcasm, his powerful 
 reasoning, his robust morality, on a coun- 
 try which is in danger of deserting its own 
 character, impairing its own virtue, and 
 discrediting its own religion. If the muse 
 of a brother bard wept so pathetically the 
 then imaginary distresses of the Deserted' 
 Village, what a plaintive descant would 
 he have sung on a deserted Country ! 
 We set a just value on the French lari- 
 b 6
 
 1% FOREIGN ASSOCIATIONS. 
 
 guage as the introduction to much elegant 
 literature ; to much indeed that is valu- 
 able, but to more that is pernicious. But 
 even this agreeable language, for the 
 higher acquisition of which so many im- 
 portant sacrifices are made, so much do- 
 mestic duty is relinquished, so much 
 religious principle is hazarded, may be 
 bought too dear. Even if this supreme 
 excellence, the perfection of the Parisian 
 accent, should obtain for an English lady 
 the coveted distinction of being taken 
 for a Frenchwoman ; does she not run 
 some risk, even in her own country and 
 her own home, from the habit of domes- 
 ticating in our families persons of whom 
 all she may know is, that their accent is 
 good ; of whose morals she knows little ; 
 and of whose religion she knows nothing, 
 except that, if they happen by great 
 chance to have any, it is of a character 
 hostile to her own. The only hope is, 
 that the foreign teacher may care so little 
 about the matter, as never to introduce 
 religion at all 5 but this is not a very con-
 
 FOREIGN ASSOCIATIONS. 13 
 
 9oling consideration in the instructors of 
 our children. 
 
 There is another grievance connected 
 with this mania for whatever is foreign, — 
 a grievance not the less serious because it 
 is overlooked, and because it affects only 
 a subordinate class in society ; — we allude 
 to the injury sustained by our domestic 
 manufactures from the abundant impor- 
 tation of French articles of dress and 
 decoration. We forbear to enter on the 
 subject in all its painful extent ; we for- 
 bear to advert to the looms that are stand- 
 ing still, to the gloominess of our trading 
 streets, to the warehouses that are left 
 solitary, to the shops which are nearly 
 deserted ; and shall confine our humble 
 remonstrance to pleading more particu- 
 larly the distress of those unfortunate 
 females who used to procure a decent 
 support by their own industry, and of 
 whom thousands are now plunging into 
 misery. We would fervently but respect- 
 fully advocate the cause of this merito- 
 rious and most pitiable class.
 
 14 FOREIGN ASSOCIATIONS. 
 
 If British patriotism be not a plea suf- 
 ficiently powerful to restrain a temptation, 
 which can only be indulged by the viola- 
 tion of laws, which perhaps the husbands 
 and fathers of the fair offenders have es- 
 tablished, we would appeal to the sensi- 
 bilities of a well-regulated heart, to the 
 tenderness of an enlightened conscience, 
 and to the dictates of justice and of cha- 
 rity, whether it be pardonable to yield to 
 every slight temptation, merely to gratify 
 vanity, or, to speak more tenderly, to in- 
 dulge a capricious taste. 
 
 When tempted to make the alluring 
 purchase by the superior beauty, real or 
 imaginary, of the article, might we not 
 presume to recommend to every lady to 
 put some such questions as the following 
 to herself: — " By this gratification, illi- 
 citly obtained, I not only offend against 
 human laws, but against humanity itself; 
 by this purchase I am perhaps starving 
 some unfortunate young creature of my 
 own sex, who gained her daily bread by 
 weaving her lace or braiding her straw.
 
 FOREIGN ASSOCIATIONS. 15 
 
 I am driving her to that extremity of 
 want, which may make her yield to the 
 next temptation to vice, which may drive 
 her to the first sinful means that may 
 offer of procuring a scanty, precarious, 
 and miserable support. It is in vain that 
 1 may have perhaps subscribed for her 
 being taught better principles at school, 
 that I have perhaps assisted in paying for 
 her acquisition of her little trade, if by 
 crushing that trade I now drive her to 
 despair, if I throw her on a temptation 
 which may overcome those better princi- 
 ples she acquired through my means. 
 Shall I not then make this paltry — this 
 no sacrifice ? Shall I not obtain a victory 
 over this petty allurement, whose conse- 
 quences when I first gave way to it I did 
 not perceive ?" 
 
 The distress here described is not a 
 picture drawn by the imagination, a 
 touch of sentimentalism, to exhibit feel- 
 ing, and to excite it. It is a plain and 
 simple representation of the state of mul- 
 titudes of young women, who, having
 
 16 FOREIGN ASSOCIATIONS. 
 
 been bred to no other means of gaining 
 their support, will probably, if these fail, 
 throw themselves into the very jaws of 
 destruction. Think, then, with tender- 
 ness, on these thousands of young per- 
 sons of your own sex, whom a little self- 
 denial on your part might restore to com- 
 fort — might snatch from ruin. Many 
 ladies, who make these unlawful pur- 
 chases, do not want feeling, they only 
 want consideration. Consider, then, we 
 once more beseech you, consider, that it 
 is not merely their bread, but their vhv 
 tue, of which you may be unintentionally 
 depriving them ; and you will find, that 
 your error is by no means so inconsider- 
 able as it may hitherto have appeared to 
 you. 
 
 If the superiority of the foreign pur- 
 chase you are about to make be not 
 great, you have gained little or nothing 
 by your fault ; if it is, and you forego it, 
 you have gained a victory over your own 
 inclination, — the victory of an honest 
 principle over a misleading fancy.
 
 FOREIGN ASSOCIATIONS. 1J 
 
 Spare yourself, then, the pain of feel- 
 ing that, if you hear of any of these un- 
 fortunate beings having, previously to 
 their entering on other sinful courses, 
 been tempted by famine to commit a 
 robbery — spare yourself the pain of re- 
 flecting, that you, perhaps, by a thoughtless 
 gratification of your taste, first robbed 
 her of that subsistence, the failure of 
 which has driven her to a crime she ab- 
 horred. The evil which appeared little, 
 considered by itself, considered in its 
 possible consequences, is of no small 
 magnitude. 
 
 But to return. — It was from the land 
 of polished arts that ancient Rome im- 
 ported the poison of her sturdy morals, 
 the annihilation of her masculine cha- 
 racter. England has a palladium for her 
 protection,which Ilium,which Rome never 
 possessed. Yet on that guardian genius de- 
 pended, as the people thought, the safety of 
 the former ; of the latter, it was considered 
 as the destiny. Our palladium is the 
 Christian, the Protestant Religion.
 
 18 FOREIGN ASSOCIATIONS. 
 
 It cannot be taken by storm ; but, like 
 that of Ilium, it may be taken by stra- 
 tagem. The French are to us as much 
 more formidable than the Greeks were to 
 Rome, as we have more to lose. While 
 our guardian genius remains inclosed 
 within our walls, we shall be safe, in spite 
 of wars and revolutions ; if we neglect 
 it, like the besieged city of antiquity, 
 we fall : losing our religion, we lose all 
 with it. Religion is our compass, the 
 only instrument for directing and deter- 
 mining our course ; and though it will 
 not save the trouble of working the ves- 
 sel, nor diminish the vigilance of guard- 
 ing against rocks and shoals ; yet it con- 
 stantly points to that star which, by as- 
 certaining our course, insures our safety. 
 In making our country an island, Di- 
 vine Providence seems to have made a 
 provision for our happiness as well as for 
 our security. As that circumstance has 
 protected us from the sword, it should also 
 protect us from the manners of our con- 
 tinental neighbours. The more England
 
 FOREIGN ASSOCIATIONS. 19 
 
 labours to resemble them, the more she 
 will lose of her independent character. 
 Le gout du teroir is often mentioned as 
 the distinctive mark of the country which 
 produces certain wines. The British 
 character, we hope, will always retain its 
 indigenous flavour. 
 
 But if Britain, blest by Heaven above 
 all the nations, ancient or modern, re- 
 corded in the annals of history, sacred or 
 profane, has not made the most of all 
 the advantages bestowed on her ; if she 
 has not yet made the best use of that 
 elevation on which Divine Providence 
 has placed her ; if she has not yet applied 
 to the best possible ends, the rich gifts 
 with which he has endowed her ; nor 
 turried the provision made for her happi- 
 ness to the best account : if, standing 
 on the loftiest summit of naval, military, » 
 and literary glory ; if, favoured with the 
 best civil and religious constitution the 
 wit of man has yet devised j — if, with all 
 these advantages, she has yet some steps 
 to ascend before she reach the height to
 
 20 FOREIGN ASSOCIATIONS. 
 
 which the Almighty seems to have des- 
 tined her, let her remember, she has re- 
 sources within herself, by which, with 
 the blessing of Him who conferred them, 
 she may still set an example to all the 
 kingdoms of the earth. We will not say 
 she may acquire a superiority over other 
 nations — of that she has long been in 
 possesion — No ; we must not try her by 
 her comparative, but her positive merit : 
 not by placing her in juxta-position with 
 other countries, but with the possibilities 
 of her own excellence. 
 
 Britain, we repeat, has abundant re- 
 sources. If it be true that she has lately, 
 in any respect, gone back, rather than 
 advanced ; if, when her public character 
 has reached its zenith, her private charac- 
 ter is in anything deteriorated, she has still 
 within herself all the materials of moral 
 renovation ; ample means, not only of 
 recovering what has been lost, but of 
 rising to heights yet unattained. It is 
 only to be wished that she may use these 
 resources, and consider them as raw ma-
 
 tfOIlEIGN ASSOCIATIONS. 21 
 
 terials, that will not produce their effect 
 without being industriously worked up. 
 
 If the familiar and protracted inter- 
 course with a neighbouring nation j if, 
 during this intercourse, the long-wit- 
 nessed contempt of religion, morbid in- 
 sensibility to morals, violated Sabbaths, 
 an abandonment to amusements the most 
 frivolous, to pleasures knit in one eternal 
 dance ; — if all this should happily have 
 left unimpaired, or have only tinctured, 
 too slightly to make a lasting impression, 
 i/the noble simplicity, the ancient recti- 
 tude, the sound sense, and the native 
 modesty which have long been the cha- 
 racteristics of the British people ; if the 
 growth at home, and within our own 
 doors, of an intolerant and superstitious 
 church, be not too fondly fostered — be 
 not promoted instead of tolerated ; if. 
 the paramount fondness in too many of 
 the more delicate sex, for unbounded 
 dissipation, for profane and immoral 
 writers, should decline ; if the middle 
 classes among us should return to their 
 ancient sobriety and domestic habits;
 
 22 FOREIGN ASSOCIATIONS. 
 
 should cease to vie with the great in ex- 
 pensive dress, and the decorations of 
 high life, should cease to give their 
 daughters the same useless accomplish- 
 ments, which are carried too far even in 
 the highest station, and in theirs are pre- 
 posterous ; if the instruction we are at 
 length giving to the poor be as conscien- 
 tiously conducted as it is generally 
 adopted, and the art of reading be made 
 the vehicle of true religion ; if a judi- 
 cious correction of our criminal code, 
 and a prudent rectification of the de- 
 mands of pauperism, be successfully fol- 
 lowed up ; if the African slave-trade 
 should be effectually abolished — not in 
 promises, and on paper, but in very deed 
 and act j if our prisons be made places 
 of reform, instead of increased corrup- 
 tion ; if the young offenders be so in- 
 structed that they come not out as bad 
 as the old, and the old come not out 
 worse than they went in ; if our vener- 
 able universities should fulfil the promise 
 they give of becoming as distinguished 
 for moral discipline and strict religion, as
 
 FOREIGN ASSOCIATIONS. 23 
 
 they have ever been, and they are now 
 more than ever, unrivalled for learning 
 and ability of every kind ; if churches be 
 as readily attended, as they will be cheer- 
 fully provided j if there be the same ho- 
 nourable attention paid to filling the pul- 
 pits, as to raising the buildings ; if the 
 Bible be as generally read by the giver, 
 as it is liberally bestowed on the receiver j 
 if the good old practice of family-prayer 
 should be revived, and public worship 
 more carefully attended by those who 
 give the law to fashion j if those who are 
 " the makers of manners" will adopt 
 none but such as deserve to be imi- 
 tated : — if all these improvements should 
 take place, and which of them, let me 
 ask, is impossible? — then, though we 
 laugh to scorn the preposterous notion of 
 human perfectibility, we shall yet have a 
 right to expect that England, so far from 
 being satisfied to excel other nations, will 
 not only excel her present self, but be 
 continually advancing in the scale of 
 Christian perfection.
 
 24 
 
 FRENCH OPINION OF ENGLISH 
 SOCIETY. 
 
 I he French nation have lately had many 
 opportunities for forming their opinion 
 of the English. It may be worth our 
 while to consider what opinion they have 
 formed ; since by ascertaining their pre- 
 sent judgment of the English character, 
 we may form some instructive conclusions 
 as to the change their tuition is likely to 
 effect in it. 
 
 Foreigners are of opinion that we want 
 polish. If this were all, we should rather 
 blame their discernment, or their defi- 
 ciency in fair deduction. For grant us 
 that we are solid, and we have high au- 
 thority for saying that solid bodies take 
 the brightest polish. And if in point of 
 fact the English character, like the Eng- 
 lish oak, be susceptible of no inconsider-
 
 OPINION OP ENGLISH SOCIETY. 25 
 
 able polish, it is owing in both to the in- 
 herent soundness and firmness of its sub- 
 stance. Soft bodies admit of little polish : 
 in them, therefore, recourse is had to 
 varnish, which hides all flaws j and the 
 thicker it is applied, the more surely it 
 conceals the meanness of the materials 
 beneath its surface. 
 
 A late brilliant female writer*, whose 
 genius it would be a reflection on our own 
 taste not to admire, and on our own can- 
 dour not to extol ; has, towards the end 
 of her admirable posthumous work, done, 
 in general, noble justice to the English 
 character. She had talents to appreciate, 
 and opportunities to examine it, in its 
 highest condition, and most advantageous 
 forms. It must be observed, that we 
 here presume to touch on no part of her 
 able delineation of English habits and 
 manners, but only so far as private society 
 and conversation are concerned. On 
 these points we are to look for her ex- 
 
 * Madame de Stae'l. 
 c
 
 26 FRENCH OPINION 
 
 ceptions : though on the society of the 
 gentlemen she animadverts with the most 
 flattering consideration ; and even to that 
 of the ladies she makes a frequent and 
 / generous, but not very successful, effort 
 to be civil. 
 
 However, with all the politeness and 
 good-nature of this fine writer, two qua- 
 lities which she seems to have possessed 
 in no ordinary degree, it frequently es- 
 capes her, that she found the English 
 ladies deplorably deficient in those shining 
 talents and airy graces which embellish 
 society. Had her visit to London been 
 three or four years later, she might 
 possibly have found, in some quarters, 
 stronger marks of improvement in this 
 talent so near her heart ; at least if any 
 expectation might be formed from their 
 subsequent intercourse with the society 
 of Paris, the charms of which she never 
 fails to exhibit in those glowing colours 
 which she so well knows how to lay on, 
 even on the worst ground.
 
 OF ENGLISH . SOCIETY. 27 
 
 But this eloquent panegyrist of ani- 
 mated conversation seems to be a little 
 mistaken in some of the causes to which 
 she ascribes the heaviness of London par- 
 ties. She laments with deeper concern 
 than the occasion, even had it been real, 
 seems to require, that the great English 
 gentlemen regularly retire, and spend 
 nine months in the year on their estates 
 in the country ! We wish she had hap- 
 pened to mention in what quarter of the 
 kingdom this annual retreat is made, 
 where this voluntary exile to the native 
 home is to be found. 
 
 We say voluntary, for British gentle- 
 men are not relegues from our capital, 
 as ex-ministers and discarded favourites 
 used to be from Paris. Neither the fate, 
 nor the credit, nor the liberty, nor the 
 choice of habitation of a man of rank 
 in this country, depends on the favour 
 of an arbitrary king ; nor does his hap- 
 piness, his general acceptance, nor his 
 respectability, hang on the smiles of a des- 
 c 2
 
 $8 FRENCH OPINION 
 
 potic and capricious master. And if her 
 concern be excessive for the annual volun- 
 tary banishment of our men of taste from 
 the centre of social delights, which she 
 would wish to see converted into a circle 
 " never ending, still beginning j" had 
 this lady never further heard of such 
 places as Bath, or Tunbridge, or Brighton, 
 or any other of those numberless feli- 
 citous resources, those supplemental re- 
 laxations, those by-reliefs of the ennui 
 of retreat, which always stand ready to 
 intercept the speed of the fashionable 
 exile, and to break the fall between the 
 London and the country home ? 
 
 But if even the fact were as desperate 
 as she intimates, the self-imposed relega- 
 tion would not be likely to produce the 
 effect she deprecates. This lady, born 
 herself to excel in polished society, re- 
 grets this injurious retreat, chiefly because 
 it interrupts the brilliant intercourse of 
 the metropolis, and causes conversation to 
 suffer so tedious and melancholy a suspen-
 
 OF ENGLISH SOCIETY. 29 
 
 sion. Now we should almost as soon 
 have expected that a philosopher would 
 have imagined a supernumerary eclipse 
 of the sun for the same period, and then 
 have brought it to account for the late 
 dreariness of the natural world and the 
 inclemency of the seasons. 
 
 She laments that the manner in which 
 these absentees from the source and cen- 
 tre of intellectual enjoyment spend their 
 time in the country, not a little disqua- 
 lifies them for the charms of society. 
 With all due deference to this able rea- 
 soner, from whom it is hazardous to differ, 
 we should have really thought, that 
 the long leisure for reading, to which 
 this supposed solitude must be at least 
 as favourable to some, as that indo- 
 lence, sleeping, and drinking, which she 
 too indiscriminately ascribes to most, 
 would have been generally seized on 
 for the former purpose by men, who 
 are all scholars by education, and fre->^ 
 quently studious from taste. Thus, in- 
 stead of starving the intellect, would not 
 c 3
 
 SO FRENCH OPINION 
 
 this leisure rather serve to nourish it ; and, 
 instead of lowering the mind, furnish it 
 with fresh images, enrich it with new 
 ideas, and aided by the refreshment of 
 «* short retirement urging sweet return," 
 dispose it to repair with a full mind, ad- 
 ditional spirit, replenished resources, and 
 increased energy, to that more splendid 
 society which she deems the life of life ; 
 that feast of intellect, of which the writer 
 of these pages is fully disposed to ac- 
 knowledge the pleasure and the profit ? — 
 Those to whom she alludes, who only 
 hunt, and loll, and drink, and sleep at 
 their country-seats, are not, we presume, 
 of that race of active intellect who would 
 swell the flow of soul by their contribu- 
 tions, were they even tied as closely and 
 constantly to the metropolis as the tavern- 
 waiter who draws their corks, or the more 
 respectable purveyor who supplies the 
 market with their luxuries. 
 
 As we presume that there is at this 
 time at least as much genius, and taste, 
 and literature, at home, as in any capital
 
 OF ENGLISH SOCIETY. 31 
 
 abroad, consequently there can be : no 
 deficiency of the finest materials for en- 
 riching and embellishing society, were 
 their possessors a little more disposed to 
 imitate a neighbouring nation in one 
 talent, in which they must be allowed to 
 excel all others — the talent se faire 
 valoir. 
 
 There is more sterling weight than 
 show in the genuine English character - y 
 and Mr. Addison was not the only one of 
 his countrymen who, with respect to in- 
 tellectual wealth, could draw for a thou- 
 sand pounds, though he may not always 
 have a guinea in his pocket. But if they 
 are not incessantly producing all they are 
 worth to every comer •, when called out 
 in public situations, in the senate, the 
 pulpit, or at the bar, we see all the ener- 
 gies of genius in all its opulence and va- 
 riety. We see the most powerful rea- 
 soning, adorned by the most persuasive 
 eloquence. With these ample materials 
 for conversation, they are not perhaps 
 driven, like some of their more volatile 
 c 4
 
 3% FRENCH OPINION 
 
 neighbours, to talk for the sake of talk- 
 ing. Talking is not with Englishmen 
 so completely a besom, so entirely a na- 
 tural necessity. They are more disposed 
 to consider conversation as the refresh- 
 ment than the pabulum of life. Added 
 to this, their professional and laborious 
 duties abroad, may make some of them 
 frequently consider society as a scene in 
 which rather to repose their minds, than 
 to keep them in full exercise. 
 
 Learning, in this country, is not con- 
 fined to academicians, authors, and pro- 
 fessional men. There is scarcely a man 
 of fortune in the kingdom who, if he be 
 not actually learned, has not, however, 
 been bred to learning. The effect of 
 that high institution, brought from the 
 halls and bowers of our distinguished 
 seats of learning, js generally diffused j 
 it serves to fill and adorn the stations of 
 dignity, honour," and utility of public, as 
 well as to grace the shade and raise the 
 tone of private life. So that an illiterate 
 gentleman is more rarely to be met with
 
 OP ENGLISH SOCIETY. S3 
 
 in this country, than in any other in the 
 world. When a learned dignitary of our 
 church enquired of one of the French 
 emigrant clergy, who took refuge in 
 England, if he understood Greek, he 
 coolly replied, " Monsieur , nous avons 
 un prq/esseur /" — English gentlemen 
 have not yet acquired the art of under- 
 standing Greek by proxy. 
 
 But to return to the other sex. — Our 
 only fear on this subject is, lest they 
 should not always remain what the writer 
 in question represents them as being at 
 present. If, indeed, we were sent into 
 / this world only to be entertaining ; if we 
 had nothing to do but to talk, nothing to 
 aim at but to shine, nothing to covet but 
 admiration ; we should more readily co- 
 incide in opinion with this sprightly lady. 
 
 A great ancient has pronounced silence 
 to be no unimportant art in society, and 
 points, in a particular instance, at one 
 man, as the wisest in an enlightened as- 
 sembly, because he knew how to hold 
 his tongue. If there had not been many 
 c 5
 
 34 FRENCH OPINION 
 
 discreet imitators of this taciturn orator 
 in the London parties, what a diminu- 
 tion would it have been in the number 
 of this lady's delighted auditors, and 
 what a lessening of their own gratifica- 
 tion in enjoying the exhibition of her 
 superlative talents ! 
 
 There are, indeed, very frequently 
 sounder causes for being silent than de- 
 ficiency of talent, or lack of inform- 
 ation ; and how happily would the mul- 
 titude of idle talkers be diminished, if 
 they never opened their mouths, but 
 when they had something to say. The 
 writer in question ascribes to causes, 
 which appear quite new, the reserve and 
 insipidity of the English ladies, when she 
 says, that the true motive is the fear of 
 ridicule ; and that as they are not called 
 upon to enliven conversation, they are 
 more struck with the danger of talking, 
 than with the inconvenience of silence. 
 She then, somewhat unaccountably, goes 
 on to attribute the frigidity of their 
 society to the dread of newspapers j and 
 
 5
 
 OF ENGLISH SOCIETY. 35 
 
 conjectures, that because they do no,t 
 delight in political warfare, they keep 
 themselves back as much as possible in 
 the presence of others. We did not 
 know that English ladies were either so 
 political or so discreet, or that vivacity 
 and the graces were such heavy losers 
 from these unsuspected causes. Perhaps 
 this lady did not know that the English 
 t educate, or rather did once educate, 
 women of fashion for home. A man of 
 sense will desire to find in his domestic 
 associate good taste, general information, 
 and a correct judgment. In the course 
 of their literary pursuits and conversation 
 together, he will take pleasure in refin- 
 ing and improving her mind ; but he 
 would not delight in a wife who will be 
 always introducing subjects for debate, 
 who will be always disputing the palm of 
 victory. Competition and emulation do 
 not contain the elements of domestic 
 happiness. He married for a companion, 
 not for a competitor. Rivalry is no great 
 promoter of affection ; nor does superiority 
 c 6
 
 36 FRENCH OPINION 
 
 in wit always confer superiority in hap- 
 piness. A professed female wit, like a 
 professed devotee to music, will be soon 
 weaiy of wasting her talent on her hus- 
 band j and even he, though he might 
 like such an occasional display in a visit 
 to the house of his friend, will find other 
 talents wanting in a constant home-com- 
 panion j talents which will not only em- 
 bellish, but improve society ; qualities 
 which will eclipse wit, and outlive beauty. 
 We do not find that those brilliant 
 French women, who had spoiled this 
 sprightly writer for English society, re- 
 served their wit for the entertainment of 
 their husbands, or their learning for the 
 instruction of their families. Their most 
 graceful ethic and courtly poet, who had 
 the best opportunities of ascertaining the 
 real value of professed wits in society, 
 has given his estimate in a single line : 
 
 Diseurs de bons mots, fades caracteres ! 
 
 Among other deductions from brilliant 
 society in England, this lively writer 
 
 12
 
 OF ENGLISH SOCIETY. 37 
 
 laments an evil, which, if things proceed 
 as they have now begun, we fear may 
 not always remain a subject of lament- 
 ation, as coquetry is, in her recipe book, 
 the flavour which gives to society its 
 poignancy : and this 2est she complains 
 is not to be found in England, except in 
 the unmarried ! If, however, the grow- 
 ing imitation of French manners should 
 hereafter add this new savour to the real 
 accomplishments of English ladies, their 
 fathers and husbands may not think it 
 the most desirable finishing. She ac- 
 counts for the fondness of our ladies for 
 foreign travel in a manner not the most 
 flattering to their purity, by supposing it 
 to arise as much from the desire of es- 
 caping from the restraint on their man- 
 ners, as from the influence of the fogs on 
 their constitutions. 
 
 She is at no loss to know the true 
 cause of a fact, which we are entirely 
 indebted to her sagacity for discovering 
 at all, namely, why the disgust of life 
 seizes on those women who are confined
 
 38 FRENCH OPINION 
 
 to these inanimate societies. Certainly 
 this explanation admits the following pre- 
 liminary question, — Are the movers in 
 these lifeless circles disgusted with their 
 existence ? By the way, we do not quite 
 understand whether by le degout de la 
 vie she means a dislike to company, or a 
 taste for suicide. 
 
 But let us do justice to her who has in 
 most respects done ample justice to our 
 country. If she is a little sickened with 
 the moody taciturnity, and unassuming 
 manners of our ladies, she graciously re- 
 deems their characters by making them a 
 full allowance of the more solid virtues ; 
 she acknowledges that sincerity and truth 
 form the basis of their conversation, even 
 where all the graces are wanting. It is 
 somewhat doubtful, however, whether she 
 would not willingly have relinquished the 
 actual, in exchange for the absent qua- 
 lities. 
 
 While we continue to preserve, or ra- 
 ther to improve in, this only true found- 
 ation of Christian intercourse, we will
 
 OF ENGLISH SOCIETY. 39 
 
 less regret the want of its embellishments; 
 and while reserve is protection, and deli- 
 cacy security, we will console ourselves 
 under these minor evils, which are consi- 
 dered as so cruelly detracting from the 
 fascinations of polished society. 
 
 Lord Chesterfield, who adorned con- 
 versation by his wit as much as he im- 
 paired it by his principles, has defined 
 " politeness to be the art of pleasing." 
 Saint Paul, one of the few writers with 
 whom this accomplished peer was not ac- 
 quainted, recommends, with as much 
 warmth as his lordship, the duty of pleas- 
 ing our neighbour. But here the two 
 moralists part. The noble writer would 
 have us please others to benefit ourselves. 
 All his precepts originate, proceed, and 
 terminate in that one object — self. The 
 Christian writer directs us to " please 
 others for their good," their highest good, 
 their moral " edification." The essence - 
 of the worldly code of ethics is selfishness j 
 that of the Christian is disinterestedness. 
 
 There is a generosity in Christian inter-
 
 40 FRENCH OPINION 
 
 course, the very reverse of that little and 
 narrowing spirit ascribed to it by those 
 who do not know, or do not love it. It 
 cannot be otherwise j for are not those 
 who cultivate it ever the followers of 
 Him, whose sublime characteristic it was 
 — " that he pleased not himself?" 
 
 In the society of Christians, every man 
 does not so much look on his own things 
 as on the things of others. Christians 
 do not make conversation a theatre for 
 dispute or display. They consider it as 
 a reciprocation of benignity j a desire to 
 draw out the talents of those who with 
 more merit have less pretension. An in- 
 terchange of sentiment between intellec- 
 tual and highly principled persons con- 
 fers both pleasure and benefit. To make 
 it at once pleasant and profitable, there 
 must be an accordance of principle, if 
 not of opinion. The conversation will 
 frequently have a tincture of religion, 
 even when the topic under discussion 
 is not religious. Topics purely secular 
 are susceptible of this spirit -, and in pious
 
 OF ENGLISH SOCIETY. 41 
 
 and discreet hands, they will be treated 
 in a way to promote religion without pro- 
 fessing it. 
 
 True religion keeps the whole man in 
 order, whether he be engaged in business 
 or in company. It sheds its benign influ- 
 ence far beyond its own sphere, and by a 
 reflex light casts a ray on actions or specu- 
 lations to which it has no immediate re- 
 ference. The Christian does not go out 
 of his way in search of wit, or embellish- 
 ment, though he does not refuse them 
 when they naturally present themselves, 
 when they grow out of the subject, and 
 the story is not invented for their forced 
 introduction, nor any sacrifice made of 
 something better than themselves. The 
 Christian uses his talents temperately, 
 seeks not to eclipse the less brilliant j and 
 had much rather not shine at all, than 
 shine at the expense of another. The 
 religious man in society finds means for 
 the exercise of many Christian virtues 
 without descanting on them, —candour, 
 charitable construction, patience with the
 
 42 OPINION OF ENGLISH SOCIETY. 
 
 less enlightened, and temper with the less 
 forbearing) a scrupulous veracity, an 
 inviolable sincerity, a watchful guard 
 against every vain thought and every 
 light expression. He is careful to pre- 
 serve wit unsullied, gaiety pure, and vi- 
 vacity correct. He is constantly on the 
 watch to introduce subjects of a higher 
 strain ; when the occasion offers, he 
 gladly embraces it, but with a due regard 
 to time, place, and circumstance. Let 
 it be observed we are not here speaking 
 of select society, associating for religious 
 improvement, but of the duty of keeping 
 ordinary conversation within the bounds 
 and under the discipline of correct prin- 
 ciple.
 
 4S 
 
 ENGLISH OPINION OF FRENCH 
 SOCIETY. 
 
 It may at first sight be censured as a 
 departure from the general design of 
 these slight pages, to introduce any allu- 
 sion to the manners of foreign countries, 
 as exhibited in their own journals, me- 
 moirs, and letters. But when it is con- 
 sidered how deeply our own manners are 
 now becoming assimilated with theirs, it 
 may not be thought quite irrelevant to 
 the subjects under consideration, to take 
 a cursory view of the habits of society in 
 a neighbouring metropolis, so far as they 
 may be likely to affect and influence 
 those of our own country, avoiding every 
 thing public or political, or general, and 
 confining the few cursory remarks to be
 
 44 ENGLISH OPINION 
 
 made, to the fashionable circles of pri- 
 vate society. 
 
 Paris has long been looked up to by 
 many with admiration, as the centre of 
 all that is brilliant in wit, or fascinating 
 in conversation. In a capital, which be- 
 fore the Revolution was said to contain 
 twenty thousand men of letters, high so- 
 ciety was not likely to want eulogists. 
 The extravagant encomiums bestowed on 
 these societies by their own people, and 
 echoed back by ours, may prevent its 
 being thought inexpedient to give a super- 
 ficial sketch of a few of the leading cha- 
 racters which seem to have set the supe- 
 riority of the circles over which they pre- 
 sided above all competition. It is, we 
 repeat, the apprehension that this boasted 
 superiority may kindle undue admiration, 
 and even excite envy, in the ardent and 
 ingenuous mind of young persons of 
 taste, who feel themselves precluded from 
 the enjoyment, which must apologise for 
 the freedom, whilst it explains the mo- 
 tive, of these observations.
 
 OF FRENCH SOCIETY. 45 
 
 It is indeed wounding to delicacy to 
 speak explicitly on things which should 
 not be so much as named. Yet though 
 it is painful to touch on such topics, how 
 shall we be so likely to prevent evils, as 
 by exposing them ? Perhaps it may 
 check the desire of imitation, lightly to 
 touch on a few of the bad dwracters who 
 presided over these good societies. 
 
 That many have escaped their pollu- 
 tion, is a thing more to inspire wonder 
 than to excite imitation. All do not die 
 of the plague where the plague rages ; 
 but the preservation of the few is no 
 proof of the salubrity of the air, where 
 so many have been infected. 
 
 In certain societies, the difficulty of 
 being witty is materially diminished by 
 the readiness of the speaker to make any 
 sacrifice, both of piety and modesty, to the 
 good thing he is about to utter. While 
 the feeling of that very sacrifice may per- 
 haps give a keener relish to the pleasure 
 of the profane hearer, the Christian, not 
 inferior in talent, rejects with horror the
 
 46 ENGLISH OPINION 
 
 reputation for wit to be obtained by any 
 such sacrifice himself, and disdains to 
 sanction or applaud it as the hearer of 
 others. 
 
 Though the late sanguinary revolution 
 in France overturned law, order, govern- 
 ment, and religion ; and had given a 
 more emphatical character to crime of 
 every description ; yet if we take a cur- 
 sory view of the period immediately pre- 
 ceding it, we shall see that this tremen- 
 dous convulsion rather aggravated than 
 introduced many of its moral corruptions. 
 To be convinced of this, we need not 
 travel so far back as that period which 
 the natives consider as the acme of hu- 
 man glory, — the age of Louis Quatorze, 
 of Richelieu, and the Academy, the im- 
 mortal Forty, as this academy had the 
 modesty to call itself. 
 
 More sober thinkers are, however, of 
 opinion, that what characterised that 
 splendid reign, was unbounded extrava- 
 gance, elegant profligacy, and tolerated 
 debauchery. Surely these, which were
 
 OF FRENCH SOCIETY. 47. 
 
 its notorious distinctions, are practices 
 which contribute little to the real gran- 
 deur of a country ; unless, indeed, it can 
 be proved that, according to the fearfully 
 unguarded expression of the otherwise 
 moral Burke, the exhibition of vice in a 
 better taste, by taking from it all its ap- 
 parent grossness, takes away half of its 
 real turpitude. 
 
 What arts of refinement could neutral- 
 ise the evil, when all the bounds of moral 
 restraint were so far broken through, as 
 that the royal wife and the royal mistress 
 were every-where received with the same 
 appearance of respect, when they fre- 
 quently even met together in the same 
 societies ? 
 
 Louis has lately obtained in certain 
 quarters, a kind of resuscitation of his 
 buried fame, by the only method perhaps 
 by which it could have been raised, — a 
 comparison with the prisoner of St. He- 
 lena. But surely to have committed 
 fewer crimes than the man who has com- 
 mitted more than any other man, is not
 
 I 
 
 48 ENGLISH OPINION 
 
 to have attained a very high degree in 
 the scale of moral excellence. Are 
 splendor in decoration and magnificence 
 in expense a mantle broad enough to co- 
 ver that injustice and those exactions on 
 a plundered people by which they were 
 purchased ? The piety of the king's 
 latter days is frequently thrown into the 
 scale against the disorders of his earlier 
 life. But surely the transition from 
 profligacy to persecution is no great 
 improvement in the human character. 
 Were not his false virtues even more de- 
 structive than his avowed vices? Did 
 matters take a better turn, when the 
 monarch, by exchanging gross immorali- 
 ties for the exercise of a superstitious and 
 intolerant religion, indulged himself and 
 his directress in a long and bitter perse- 
 cution of his own subjects ? a persecution 
 accompanied with every act of the most 
 unrelenting cruelty. Exile, proscription, 
 torture, death, were the rewards of four 
 millions of his faithful protestant subjects ! 
 To these rigorous exercises of arbitrary
 
 OF FRENCH SOCIETY. 49 
 
 power, he was encouraged and impelled 
 by a woman who had herself been edu- 
 cated in the faith she now endeavoured 
 to exterminate. 
 
 What a contrast does the life and cha- 
 racter of our own beloved sovereign pre- 
 sent ! Who does not remember how his 
 piety sustained his own ^mind, and his 
 virtues preserved the hearts of his sub- 
 ject§, under dangers the most menacing, 
 difficulties the most trying, the loss of 
 territory the most extensive ? Who has 
 forgotten how, under all these alarms, his 
 private character exhibited an edifying 
 example of purity and rectitude; his 
 public conduct, of unshaken firmness, 
 and inviolable integrity ? The hand of 
 God has smitten him ; out, to borrow 
 from a distinguished orator, the late 
 beautiful allusion to the reverence of the 
 ancients for an oak shivered by lightning, 
 — the stroke which blasted consecrated 
 him. 
 
 But to return — We pass over the in- 
 termediate government of " the godless 
 
 D
 
 50 ENGLISH OPINION 
 
 Regent trembling at a star," in whose 
 character, in addition to the most dis- 
 graceful vices, we see a shocking, but 
 not uncommon union of the wildest su- 
 perstition with the most avowed infide- 
 lity. 
 
 During the reign of the next equally 
 corrupt successor, we have endless re- 
 cords of the state of society among per- 
 sons in the higher walks of life. These 
 notices are to be found in a multitude of 
 the letters and memoirs of the individuals 
 who were themselves actors and interlo- 
 cutors in these scenes of familiar life. 
 These fashionable societies are all that 
 come within our present design. Many 
 of these works have preserved the history 
 of characters, principles, and sentiments, 
 which, had they been consigned to eter- 
 nal oblivion, religion would have had less 
 to. mourn, and virtue less to regret. 
 
 Many of these writings, for life would 
 be too short, and time ill-spent to peruse 
 them all, are adorned with elegances of 
 composition, and graces of style, which,
 
 OF FRENCH SOCIETY. 51 
 
 had they been devoted to the purposes 
 for which they were given, might have 
 benefited the world as much as they have 
 injured it. Out of all these mischievous 
 but lighter writings, we shall only men- 
 tion one or two ; nor would they have 
 been noticed in a little work of this na- 
 ture, but for the popularity they have 
 obtained among us, and our dread of 
 that natural progress, the tendency of 
 admiration to produce imitation. 
 
 In the Life of Marmontel, written by 
 himself, we have an extraordinary speci- 
 men of decorous vice and accredited in- 
 famy — of abandoned manners, to which 
 reference is frequently made, at least to 
 the characters which exhibited them, 
 without the slightest feeling of their tur- 
 pitude. Vices abound, and are revealed 
 without the least apparent suspicion .of 
 their guilt. The intimations, indeed, are 
 not repeated in the way of boasting, but 
 look as if the writer did not think that 
 concealment of the vice would raise the 
 character he was eulogising. If there 
 d 2
 
 52 ENGLISH OPINION 
 
 are no offensive descriptions of vicious 
 manners, it seems to be because they 
 were not understood to be vicious ; and 
 if gaiety of spirit seems to conceal from 
 the writer the complexion of his own 
 morals, gaiety of style seems almost to 
 make the reader lose sight of the charac- 
 ter of the company in which he is pass- 
 ing his time. In fact, the delineation of 
 these characters consists rather in a mor- 
 bid insensibility to sin, than in an ambi- 
 tious display of it. The slight veil 
 thrown over corrupt manners by decency 
 of expression, seems the effect of some re- 
 mains, not of principle, but of good taste. 
 It is the cool-bloodedness of a heart 
 stagnated by long habits of impurity j 
 for while the passions are inflamed by 
 criminal indulgences, the sensibilities of 
 the soul are chilled. The mind insensi- 
 bly loses that delicacy of perception 
 which nicely distinguishes not only the 
 shades of evil, but the very existence of 
 the distinction between vice and virtue. 
 This deadness of principle, and liveliness
 
 OF FRENCH SOCIETY. 5& 
 
 of language, it is which makes this writer, 
 and others we could name, so peculiarly 
 dangerous. 
 
 Women of fashion, of the very worst 
 description, to whose parties the writer 
 referred to was familiarly admitted, are 
 named with unbounded admiration, not 
 merely of their talents, but their virtues | 
 The charms of their conversation, and 
 the amiableness of their characters, are 
 the theme of his unmixed panegyric. 
 Incidentally, however, as a thing by the 
 by, as a trifle not requiring to be named 
 expressly, as a circumstance not invalid- 
 ating any of their perfections, it comes 
 out, that these women, so faultless and so 
 panegyrised, are living in an illicit com- 
 merce with different men — men, whose 
 wives are, with the same uncensured guilt, 
 carrying on similar connections with the 
 husbands of other women] Sobriety, 
 y chastity, the conjugal and maternal vir- 
 tues, are not thought necessary to be 
 called in to complete their round of 
 perfection. Impurity of heart and life, 
 d 3
 
 54f ENGLISH OPINION 
 
 dereliction of all the domestic duties, are 
 never brought forward as any deduction 
 from the all-atoning merit of graces of 
 manner, and vivacity of conversation. 
 
 Divine Providence seems to have in- 
 tended advanced age as a season of 
 repose, reflection, and preparation for 
 death; and to have sent its infirmities, 
 sufferings, and debility, as gracious in- 
 timations of our approaching change, 
 and with a merciful view of our attaining 
 by those remembrances, to the end of 
 our faith, even the salvation of our 
 souls. 
 
 But one of the unhallowed projects on 
 which these accomplished societies seem 
 to have congratulated themselves, was 
 in defeating this providential procedure. 
 It was their boasted aim to cheat old 
 age of itself — of its present inconve- 
 niences, its decays, and its prospective 
 views, by a more amusing method. They 
 contrived to divert the stage of infirmity 
 into a scene of superinduced gaiety and 
 increased levity. Instead of desiring to
 
 OF FRENCH SOCIETY. 55 
 
 invest it with the peaceful attributes 
 of calmness and resignation, they in- 
 vented the means of making old age 
 lose itself, as it were, in youthful images, 
 not only by indulging in light reading, 
 hut loose composition. One of them was 
 so successfully boiled in Medea's kettle, 
 that his eulogist triumphantly tells us he 
 translated Ariosto, and published tales 
 exhibiting pictures of voluptuousness 
 without indecency; and these boasted 
 exploits are adduced as adding fresh 
 laurels to a being on the very verge of 
 eternity ! 
 
 Hear a celebrated academician immor- 
 talise one of the deceased confraternity 
 in his public oration ! In illustrating 
 the character of his friend, who died 
 in extreme old age, he describes this 
 period as " a season when ingenious 
 trifling is peculiarly graceful; a period 
 in which men might give themselves 
 up to levity with the least scruple and 
 the most success. It is in old age, says 
 the orator, that the mind is disabused on 
 d 4
 
 56 ENGLISH OPINION 
 
 all subjects, and that a man has a right to 
 jest upon every thing! It is then that long 
 experience has taught him the art of con- 
 cealing reason under a veil which may 
 embellish it !" * 
 
 Whoever has cast an eye on the lately 
 published letters of Madame du Deffand, 
 — a most unnecessary and unprofitable 
 addition to the late load of similar literary 
 mischiefs, — will have beheld such a pic- 
 ture of the manners even of private and 
 select society, among persons of high 
 rank, science, taste, and literature, as 
 must make him look on these distinc- 
 tions without envy, when beheld discon- 
 nected with those principles which alone 
 render talents estimable. 
 
 In the history of this distinguished 
 ladyi we find these striking circum- 
 stances: they present a melancholy in- 
 stance how completely, in Paris, at that 
 time, a disregard of all the obligations of 
 duty, all sense of religion, all the charities 
 
 * Speech of Condorcet to the Academy, on the 
 death of Monsieur De Tressan.
 
 OP FRENCH SOCIETY. .57 
 
 of domestic virtue, all the purposes of so* 
 cial usefulness, were, on her part, perfectly 
 compatible with her being received in the 
 first society. On the part of her asso- 
 ciates, all the objections, insurmountable, 
 we trust, in any other place, were there 
 sacrificed to the reigning idol — the 
 fondness for display in conversation, the 
 vanity of eclipsing those who eclipsed 
 others. 
 
 We see also how little splendid talents 
 contribute to the felicities of the life, or 
 to the virtues of the possessor. We 
 even see that, when not under the con- 
 trol of sound principle, they awfully 
 increase the present capacity for evil, 
 and the responsibility of a future reckon- 
 ing. Instead of promoting improvement, 
 they carry contamination. In morals, as 
 well as in politics, 
 
 V ':"< 
 
 " Great power is an achievenjent of great ill." 
 
 Some of these brilliant societies fostered 
 in their bosoms the serpents that were so 
 soon to sting, not only their own country, 
 d 5
 
 58 ENGLISH OPINION 
 
 but all Europe. Here were cherished 
 those academical philosophers, wits, and 
 political economists, who first sounded the 
 alarm for the simultaneous extinction of 
 thrones and altars ; who first exhibited the 
 portentous remedies for curing despotism 
 by anarchy, and superstition by atheism ; 
 who sowed the first prolific seeds of those 
 revolutionary horrors which so rapidly 
 sprung up into the poisonous tree of 
 liberty, and who hurled their arrows at 
 the God of heaven, and erected on the 
 meditated ruins of his kingdom, the tem- 
 ple of the goddess of reason. 
 
 Previously to some of Madame du 
 DefFand's numerous intrigues, she had 
 been separated from her husband, on the 
 ground which, it is presumed, the laws of 
 England would not recognise as a lawful 
 impediment — that " he xvas a weak and 
 tiresome companion /" She was" extra- 
 ordinarily acute, but her acuteness, 
 though it was frequently just, was always 
 malicious. It is difficult to say whether 
 she was more completely deficient in
 
 OF FRENCH SOCIETY. 59 
 
 sensibility or principle. She possessed 
 all the qualities which attract, but wanted 
 all those which attach; or rather, she 
 wanted no talent but that of turning 
 those she possessed to a better account. 
 /Not possessing the female virtues, she 
 either did not believe in their existence, 
 or despised them. If she wanted any 
 vice, it was that of hypocrisy ; for she 
 takes little pains to hide qualities which 
 were not fit to be seen. If she possessed 
 any virtue, it was frankness, which yet 
 was often disfigured by coarseness, and 
 not seldom counteracted by falsehood. 
 She wanted all the good feelings of 
 kindness, affection, and tenderness ; and 
 possessed in perfection all the bad ones 
 of ill-nature, jealousy, and envy ; but her 
 ruling passion was a selfishness the most 
 deeply rooted, and an egotism the most 
 completely unconquerable. 
 
 The dark and hollow character which 
 she takes little pains to conceal, is ren- 
 dered more broadly conspicuous by the 
 warmth of her colouring, the strength of 
 d 6
 
 60 ENGLISH OPINION 
 
 her language, and the power of her wit, 
 all frequently exercised in proclaiming 
 her own impieties. 
 
 It is a striking proof of the unrelenting 
 rancour of her heart, that a friend, of the 
 same class of character*, whom she had 
 formerly loved as much as she could 
 love any woman ; one who had been her 
 select companion in her own house fifteen 
 years, but who had quitted her in disgust, 
 and set up a talking house for herself, 
 which drew away some of " the best 
 feathers in her wing j" — on hearing the 
 death of this rival lady, she only ex- 
 claimed, " I wish she had died many 
 years ago, and then I should not have 
 lost D'Alembert 1" 
 
 We learn from her letters, that her 
 splendid society was composed not merely 
 of wits, philosophers, and academic^ms, 
 but of women of rank, of nobles, and of 
 statesmen, with one of whom she was 
 connected. From those, it must be con- 
 
 * Mademoiselle de FEspinassc*
 
 OF FRENCH SOCIETY. 61 
 
 fessed, admirably written epistles, we 
 profitably learn much of the hollowness 
 of worldly friendships, much of the in- 
 sincerity of mere wits and mere men of 
 letters — of persons who associate to- 
 gether, partly for the credit of having 
 it known that they are so associated — 
 who mix acrimony and adulation, ventur- 
 ing to indemnify themselves for their 
 reciprocal flattery when together, by 
 their cutting sarcasms- when separated. 
 Happily, the more we see of these com- 
 munications, the more we are convinced 
 that nothing but sound principle, " godly 
 sincerity," a conquest over vanity, a 
 triumph over egotism, an habitual strug- 
 gle against selfishness — can establish an 
 honourable, virtuous, and durable friend- 
 ship, or shed a benign lustre on the most 
 polished society. 
 
 We repeat, that these reports are not 
 industriously gleaned from rival parties, 
 ill-informed journalists, nor even from 
 virtuous writers, eager to expose the 
 vices they detested j but from the prin-
 
 62 ENGLISH OPINION 
 
 cipal performers in the scene — from a 
 woman whose uncontrollable openness 
 prevents her concealing her own vices. 
 
 We see, not without pain, her exposure 
 of the faults of some of the associates 
 whom she so sedulously courts, and so 
 constantly abuses ; we see the malignity 
 which forces itself through all her en- 
 deavours to appear amiable in the eyes of 
 the distinguished person to whom she 
 writes ; we see the corroding envy, the 
 gnawing jealousy, and sometimes the 
 obvious aversion to the individuals of a 
 society, without which she cannot exist ; 
 which society probably entertained a re- 
 ciprocal hatred of their flattering hostess, 
 and yet could not exist without her. 
 All this exhibits a scene, from which an 
 unsophisticated English heart turns away, 
 sickening with disgust. 
 
 This unhappy woman, old, deaf, blind, 
 repining, and impious, yet drew this 
 accomplished society about her by their 
 mutual fondness for conversation. They 
 met without affection, they parted with-
 
 OF FRENCH SOCIETY. 63 
 
 out regret ; yet meet they must — they 
 were necessary to each other, not for 
 comfort, for they knew neither the name 
 nor the thing ; but society being an 
 article of the first necessity for the sup- 
 port of existence, it must be had with 
 companions hating, and hated by, each 
 other. Under such circumstances, the 
 fondness for society seems not so much a 
 taste, as a raging appetite. 
 
 It is, however, a cheerless, heartless 
 society, where persons of talents and 
 breeding meet, not so much to enjoy 
 each other, as to get rid of themselves.^ 
 Intimacy without confidence, and inter- 
 course without esteem, add little to the 
 genuine delights of social life. Compe- 
 tition, while it inflames vanity, is no im- 
 prover of kindness. 
 
 In a city like Paris, where men were 
 wits and authors by profession, and ladies 
 judges and critics by courtesy, nothing 
 was considered as an exclusion from 
 these societies but want of talents to 
 amuse, or taste to decide. The poet
 
 64 ENGLISH OPINION 
 
 produced his work, not, however, so 
 much to be corrected as applauded ; not 
 so much to be counselled as nattered ; 
 he, in return, paying usuriously in the 
 same counterfeit coin, the honour con- 
 ferred on him, and the benefit done him, 
 by their proclamation of the beauty of 
 his work ; his fame, perhaps, suspended 
 on the avowed patronage of a woman 
 whom we, in our plain language, should 
 call infamous. He is grateful to receive 
 his imprimatur and his crown of laurel 
 from fair and fashionable, but impure 
 hands $ and Paris resounds, next morn- 
 ing, with the immortality assigned him 
 by the decision of this coterie. 
 
 AH this might be very well, or at least 
 would not be so very bad, if there were 
 no future reckoning ; but to see old age 
 without consolation, dreading solitude as 
 only less terrible than death, - — to con- 
 template loss of sight as only augmenting 
 spiritual blindness, yet to see the afflicted 
 sufferer clinging to this miserable exist- 
 ence, and closing a life of sin with a 
 14
 
 OF FRENCH SOCIETY. 65 
 
 death without penitence and without 
 hope, — to consider talents capable of 
 great things, abused and misapplied, — a 
 God not merely forsaken, but denied; — 
 all these are images from which the 
 sober mind turns away with horror 
 softened by compassion. May every 
 daughter of Britain^ say, with the patri- 
 arch of old, " Come not into their secret, 
 O my soul ; to their assembly let not 
 thine honour be united !" 
 
 Some ladies of unimpeached morality 
 were found in these coteries. True ; yet 
 we hope to be forgiven for saying, that 
 they could have retained but little of 
 that delicacy which should preserve the 
 purity of society, when they made no 
 scruple of mixing intimately with women 
 whose practices they would not by any 
 means adopt. In such society virtue 
 withers, delicacy is impaired, and prin- 
 ciple finally extinguished. 
 
 In this view it is impossible not to 
 make a short digression, to observe with 
 gratitude on the obligations of English
 
 OO ENGLISH OPINION 
 
 society to our late venerated queen. 
 Not to insist on the admirable example 
 she set in her exact performance of all 
 the domestic duties ; her public conduct, 
 in one important instance, will ever re- 
 flect honour on her memory — we mean 
 her solicitude to prevent the impure 
 mixtures to which we are now alluding. 
 She raised, as it were, a rampart between 
 vice and virtue; and her strictness in 
 excluding from the royal presence all 
 who had forfeited their claim to be in- 
 troduced to it, had a general moral 
 effect, by excluding them also from the 
 virtuous society of others of their own 
 rank. Discriminations of this nature are 
 of incalculable value in preserving the 
 distinctions between correctness and im- 
 purity, when no offender, though of the 
 highest rank,- can preserve the public dig- 
 nity of the station she has dishonoured. 
 
 " 'Twas hard, perhaps, on here and there a waif, 
 Desirous to return, and not received ; 
 But was an wholesome rigour in the main, 
 And taught th' unblemish'd to preserve with care 
 That purity, whose loss was loss of all." 
 
 Cowper.
 
 OF FRENCH SOCIETY. 67 
 
 London also has bad its select assem- 
 blies for conversation. They were neither 
 trifling, dull, nor pedantic. If there 
 were less display of wit, less pains to 
 be easy, less study to be natural, less 
 affectation of being unaffected, less effort 
 to be unconstrained, there was more 
 sincerity, integrity, and kindness. If 
 there was a less perpetual aim at being 
 ingenious, ingenuity was never wanting. 
 If there were less persiflage and sarcasm, 
 there was more affection, truth, and 
 nature. Religion, though not discussed, 
 was always venerated, and no degree 
 of rank or talent would have procured an 
 introduction where there was any taint 
 on the reputation. 
 
 The tone of social intercourse is at 
 present, perhaps, likely to be raised by 
 the recent adoption of more direct re- 
 ligious improvement in the private parties 
 of some persons of rank and talents. 
 But to return to Paris. 
 
 One instance more of the substitution 
 of talent for virtue, and of the little
 
 1 
 
 68 ENGLISH OPINION 
 
 regard paid to the absence of the one 
 where the other abounded y one instance 
 more, and we will relieve our Readers, 
 and carry them to breathe a purer atmo- 
 sphere in better company. The celebrated 
 Madame d'Epinay is described by one of 
 her admirers *, who came in the order of 
 succession next after Rousseau, not only 
 as the most attractive, but most discreet 
 of women ! This discretion, which is 
 his rather than hers, appears in his mak- 
 ing her indulgence in forbidden grati- 
 fications, consistent with her constant 
 regard for public opinion, and the desire 
 of reputation. He records, intentionally 
 to her honour, that, being above all 
 prejudices herself, (that is, above the 
 weaknesses of Christianity,) yet no one 
 knew better what was due to the pre- 
 judices of others. She conformed, he 
 observes, as scrupulously to old usages, 
 as to new opinions, and kept up the 
 outward observances of the church as 
 
 * Le Baron de Grimm.
 
 OF FRENCH SOCIETY. 6$ 
 
 much as a woman of an ordinary mind 
 could have done; that is, she was at 
 once an infidel and a hypocrite. He 
 proclaims to her glory, that, " without 
 believing in any catechism but that of 
 good sense, she never failed to receive 
 the sacraments, painful as the stupid 
 ceremony was, with the best grace 
 imaginable, as often as decency, or the 
 scruples of her friends, made it becom- 
 ing." " Perhaps," adds her prophane 
 panegyrist, " there was as much greatt 
 ness in receiving them with Jier notion of 
 them, as there would have been in 
 refusing them." Is it any wonder that, 
 with such a conformity of principles, 
 she obtained the prize of the academy, 
 as well as the homage of the acade- 
 mician ? 
 
 We are amused to think with what a 
 contemptuous smile of pity these ladies, 
 with all their allowed taste and learning, 
 must, if they were consistent, have beheld 
 the pictures of those obsolete wives, 
 Andromache and Penelope, as deline-
 
 70 ENGLISH OPINION 
 
 ated by the Grecian bard — pictures of 
 female excellence and domestic virtue, 
 which have drawn the tear of admiring 
 sympathy from many a British eye. The 
 poet has omitted to mention whether 
 their valiant lords loved them the less 
 for having spent the hours of their ab- 
 sence in scenes of bloody warfare or 
 perilous adventure, in mournful solitude, 
 cheating the time in simple occupations, 
 yet such as served to keep up the me- 
 mory of their beloved heroes ; in one, 
 by contriving decorations for a living 
 lord, or, in the other, honouring the 
 memory of the dead one, by preparing 
 funeral honours for his father, ingeniously 
 deferring the detested second nuptials 
 by nightly unravelling the daily labour, 
 and thus keeping her promise of consent 
 when the work should be finished, and 
 preserving her fidelity to her lord by 
 never finishing it. 
 
 What manly English heart would not 
 prefer the fond anxiety of the Trojan 
 wife, which led her in secret to the
 
 OF FRENCH SOCIETY. 71 
 
 watch-tower, to mark the battle, and 
 tenderly seek to explore her husband so 
 soon to bleed, — to all the Aspasias of 
 Greece, to all the Du Deffands, the 
 De l'Espinasses, the D'Epinays, to all the 
 beau ideal of the fancy, and all the 
 practical pollutions of the life, of the 
 " bonnes societes" of the metropolis of 
 France ? 
 
 But, happily, we need not go back 
 to ransack antiquity for examples in the 
 finely-imagined females of Troy or Ithaca, 
 nor for warnings to the polished, but 
 profligate courtezans of Athens, nor to 
 the criminal countesses of Paris; — we 
 may find instances of the one, and a 
 complete contrast to the other, nearer 
 home. We need go no further for the 
 highest examples of female dignity, ta- 
 lent, and worth, than are to be found 
 in the private biography of our own 
 country. 
 
 We could produce no inconsiderable 
 number in the highest rank of women, 
 who, if their names are not blazoned in 
 8
 
 72 ENGLISH OPINION 
 
 the book of fame, will be recorded in 
 more lasting characters in the book of 
 life — who, if their memoirs are not 
 spangled with their bons mots, have yet 
 had their good actions and holy principles 
 embalmed in the writings of their faithful 
 Christian friends. But we shall confine 
 ourselves to a very few. 
 
 The Lady Mary Armyne, descended 
 from the ancient Earls of Shrewsbury, 
 was eminently skilled in human, but 
 especially in divine learning. But the 
 remembrance of her talents, which ap- 
 pear to have been of the first order, is lost 
 in that of her Christian virtues. Among 
 numerous other instances of her pious 
 exertions, she contributed largely to the 
 support of a society for converting the 
 Indians in New England, long before 
 missions were thought of by her tardy 
 countrymen. On hearing of the fatal 
 massacre of St. Bartholomew, she in- 
 stantly devoted a large sum to those 
 exiled and destitute clergymen who had 
 fled hither for protection. Her piety
 
 OF FRENCH SOCIETY. 73 
 
 was as exemplary as that extensive bene- 
 volence of which it was the source. 
 
 In Birch's Life of the Hon. Robert 
 Boyle, there is a most interesting account 
 of Mary, Countess of Warwick, of whom 
 it is saying every thing to say, that she 
 was entirely worthy of being sister to 
 that illustrious Christian philosopher. 
 Of the eminently pious Lady Frances 
 Hobart, the ornament of the court of 
 James the First, Dr. Collings has pre- 
 served an interesting memorial. A long 
 and. unwearied attention, for many years, 
 to the bodily sufferings of her lord, could 
 only be surpassed by her anxiety for his 
 spiritual interests. Through the bless- 
 ing of God she became the honoured 
 instrument of a total change in his 
 character, who never named her by any 
 other appellation but that of his " dear 
 saint." This term had not then fallen 
 into reproach. 
 
 Of Susanna, Countess of Suffolk, it is 
 impossible to say too much. For bre- 
 vity's sake, however, we must restrict 
 
 E
 
 74 ENGLISH OPINION 
 
 ourselves to one or two particulars in 
 speaking of a life which was a constant 
 series of secret piety and active bene- 
 volence. When near her end, which 
 happened in her twenty-second year, she 
 implored of her lord, that whatever pro- 
 vision might be made for the fortunes or 
 acquirements of her children, they might 
 be educated in the strictest principles of 
 Christianity, in comparison of which she 
 esteemed all worldly accomplishments as 
 nothing. To her dying father, who had 
 been inattentive to Christian duties, she 
 administered such spiritual supports, that 
 in rapture he praised God that he should 
 live to receive his best religious conso- 
 lations from his own child ! 
 
 To the memory of the Lady Cutts, the 
 incomparable wife of the gallant Lord 
 Cutts, so distinguished at the siege of 
 Namur, noble justice has been done in 
 an admirable funeral sermon of Bishop 
 Atterbury, which we would recommend 
 to every reader who has a taste for exalted 
 piety or fine writing.
 
 OF FRENCH SOCIETY. 7-5 
 
 The Lady Elizabeth Hastings was not 
 less distinguished for superior talents 
 than for eminence in every Christian 
 attainment. She has been celebrated for 
 both in the Tatler, under the very inap- 
 propriate appellation of Aspasia. No 
 two characters could form a more perfect 
 contrast. 
 
 But the time would fail to enumerate 
 all the English ladies who have conferred 
 honour on their country. Of those 
 already mentioned, all possessed con- 
 siderable talents. Some were eminent 
 for their skill in the dead languages j 
 others for their knowledge of philosophy 
 and the sciences ; all for their high re- 
 ligious attainments. All were practical 
 Christians — all adorned their profession 
 by the strictest attention to the do- 
 mestic, the relative, and the social 
 duties. * 
 
 But what shall we say to Rachel Lady 
 
 * For a full account of these, and many other 
 equally eminent ladies, see " Memoirs of Pious 
 Women." 
 
 E 2
 
 7$ ENGLISH OPINION 
 
 Russell? Many daughters have done 
 virtuously, but thou excellest them all ! 
 She has unintentionally bequeathed us 
 fier character in her letters. Though 
 there is little elegance in her style, there 
 is all the dignity of wisdom and all the 
 eloquence of truth in her sentiments. 
 Many specimens of epistolary writing 
 might be produced, which excel these in 
 the graces of composition, but few which 
 surpass them in that strong sense, solid 
 judgment, and those discriminating pow- 
 ers which were the characteristics of her 
 / intellectual attainments, as heroic forti- 
 tude, Christian humility, unshaken trust 
 in God, and submission to his dispensa- 
 tions, were of her religious character. 
 Such a combination of tenderness the 
 most exquisite, magnanimity the most 
 unaffected, and Christian piety the most 
 practical, have not often met in the same 
 mind. 
 
 An acute, but sceptical French writer, 
 calls " Magnanimity the good sense of 
 pride, and the noblest way of obtaining
 
 OF FRENCH SOCIETY. 77 
 
 praise." How well has the prince of 
 pagan philosophers, by anticipation, cor- 
 rected this tinsel phrase ! " If thou art 
 not good, thy magnanimity is ridiculous, 
 and worthy of no honour." But how 
 did our sublime Christian sufferer prac- 
 tically improve upon both ! " Seek not 
 the honour which cometh from men, but 
 that which cometh from God." 
 
 Whether we view this illustrious daugh- 
 ter of the virtuous Southampton taking- 
 notes on the public trial of her noble 
 consort, concealing the tender anguish 
 
 kj£ LlIC W lit Uudar tlxc/ o-coiiTYiorl /THYlTlOKlirf 
 
 of the secretary ; whether we behold her, 
 after his condemnation, prostrate at the 
 f]eet of the unfeeling monarch, imploring 
 a short reprieve for her adored husband, 
 while the iron-hearted king heard the 
 petition without emotion, and refused it 
 without regret ; whether we behold her 
 sublime composure at their final separ- 
 ation, which drew from her dying lord 
 the confession, " the bitterness of death 
 is past ;" whether we behold her heroic 
 e 3
 
 78 ENGLISH OPINION. 
 
 resolution rather to see him die, than to 
 persuade him to any dishonourable means 
 to preserve his life ; whether we see her 
 superiority to resentment afterwards to- 
 wards the promoters of his execution,— 
 no expression of an unforgiving spirit ; 
 no hard sentence escaping her, even 
 against the savage Jeffries, who pro- 
 nounced his condemnation, adding in- 
 sult to cruelty ; no triumph when that 
 infamous judge was afterwards disgraced 
 and jmpnisa»ed. > 7 if we view her in that 
 
 more than temperate letter to the King 
 a. rcw aayo dfici iier deal lord's execu- 
 
 tion, declaring that, if she were capable 
 
 of consolation, it would only be that her 
 
 lord's fame might be preserved in the 
 
 King's more favourable opinion : — had 
 
 long habits of voluptuousness left any 
 
 sense of pity in this corrupt king ; or, 
 
 rather, if a heart had not been forgotten 
 
 in his anatomy, it must have been 
 
 touched at her humble entreaty that " he 
 
 would grant his pardon to a woman 
 
 amazed with grief, to the daughter of a
 
 OF FRENCH SOCIETY. 7$ 
 
 man who had served his father in his 
 greatest extremities, and his Majesty in 
 his greatest perils :" — if we view this 
 extraordinary sufferer under all these 
 trials, while we admire the woman, we 
 must adore the divine grace which alone 
 could sustain her under them. 
 
 After this imperfect sketch, may we 
 not say, that, for an example of conjugal 
 tenderness, we need not go out of our 
 own country for a perfect model ? Portia 
 swallowing fire because she would not 
 survive her Brutus, the Pcete non dolet of 
 the faithful Arria, as she stabbed herself, 
 and then presented the sword to her 
 husband, to set him an example of dying 
 bravely; these heroic instances of con- 
 jugal affection, which have been the 
 admiration of ages, are surpassed by the 
 conduct of Lady Russel : they died a 
 voluntary death rather than outlive their 
 husbands ; Christianity imposed on her 
 the severer duty of surviving hers — of 
 living to suffer calamities scarcely less 
 trying, and to perform duties scarcely 
 e 4
 
 80 ENGLISH OPINION, &C. 
 
 less heroic. After weeping herself blind, 
 after the loss of her only son the Duke of 
 Bedford, let us view her called to witness 
 the death of her daughter, the Duchess 
 of Rutland. After seeing her dead corpse, 
 let us behold her going to the chamber 
 of her other daughter, the Duchess of 
 Devonshire, then confined in child-bed, 
 of which the other had just died. When 
 her only surviving daughter enquired 
 after her sister, the mother cheerfully re- 
 plied, M I have just seen her out of bed ! " 
 — It was in her coffin. 
 
 In whatever attitude, then, we consi- 
 der the portrait of this illustrious lady, it 
 is with fresh admiration. Each lineament 
 derives additional beauty from its har- 
 mony with the rest, the symmetry of the 
 features corresponding with the just pro- 
 portions of the whole figure.
 
 81 
 
 *a 
 
 ■ 
 
 ENGLAND'S BEST HOPE. 
 
 ... . *-■*'• 
 
 We have dwelt on the present and the 
 
 past, as well with reference to our 
 neighbours as ourselves. If we have 
 shown that we have little regret in any 
 still remaining difference between the 
 inhabitants of the opposite shores, and 
 much to fear from a growing resem- 
 blance between them ; — if we have suc- 
 cessfully hinted at the grounds of our 
 / own real superiority, and the possibility 
 of maintaining, and even increasing our 
 greatness, to any extent consistent with 
 human imperfection ; — if we have, in 
 the two preceding chapters, anticipated 
 what might be our ultimate degradation, 
 whilst in the first we had pointed at the 
 e 5
 
 82 England's best hope. 
 
 heights to which we may reasonably 
 aspire; — let us not think it unworthy 
 our attention to inquire how we can 
 alone answer our high destination, re- 
 vive what we have lost, attain what more 
 is within our reach, or having attained 
 it, how we may perpetuate the inestimable 
 blessing. 
 
 We have at length, though with a slow 
 and reluctant movement, begun to pro- 
 vide a national education for the children 
 of the poor. Prejudice held out against 
 it with its accustomed pertinacity, — 
 knowledge would only make them idle, 
 ignorance would preserve subordination, 
 the knowledge of their duty would im- 
 pede the performance of it. This last 
 we did not perhaps say in so many 
 words, but was it not the principle of 
 our conduct? We put off the instruc- 
 tion of the poor till the growth of crime 
 made the rich tremble. We refused to 
 make them better till they grew so much 
 worse as to augment the difficulty, as to 
 lessen the probability of their reform. 
 
 12
 
 England's best hope. 88 
 
 The alarm came home to the opulent. 
 They were afraid for their property, for 
 their lives j they were driven to do what 
 it had long been their duty not to have 
 left undone. But they did it not, till 
 " the overflowings of ungodliness made 
 them afraid." They discovered, at 
 length, that ignorance had not made 
 better subjects, better servants, better 
 men. This lesson they might have con- 
 descended to learn sooner from the Irish 
 rebels, from the French revolutionists. 
 We have at length done well, though 
 we have done it reluctantly. We have 
 begun to instruct the poor in the know- 
 ledge of religion. 
 
 But there is another class, a class 
 surely of no minor importance, from 
 whom too many still withhold the same 
 blessing. If, as is the public opinion, it 
 is the force of temptation which has 
 produced so much crime among the 
 poor, are not the rich, and especially the 
 children of the rich, exposed to at least 
 as strong temptations, not indeed to 
 e 6
 
 84f England's best hope. 
 
 steal, but to violate other commandments 
 of equal authority ? Laws, without man- 
 ners, will not do all we expect from them : 
 manners, without religion, will be but im- 
 perfectly reformed. And who will say 
 that religious reformation will be com- 
 plete, whilst it is confined to a single 
 class, or deemed at least a work of super- 
 erogation by some among the higher 
 ranks? There are, however, many honour- 
 able exceptions, the number of which is, 
 we trust, increasing. 
 
 Why should the poor monopolize our 
 benevolence ? Why should the rich, in 
 this one instance, be so disinterested? 
 Why should not the same charity be ex- 
 tended to the children of the opulent 
 and the great ? Why should the son of 
 the nobleman not share the advantage 
 now bestowed on the children of his ser- 
 vant, of his workman, of the poorest 
 of his neighbours ? Why should not 
 Christian instruction be made a promi- 
 nent article in the education of those 
 who are to govern and to legislate, as
 
 England's best hope. 85 
 
 well as of those who are to work and to 
 serve ? Why are these most important 
 beings, the very beings in this enlight- 
 ened country whose immortal interests 
 are the most neglected ? 
 
 The Apostle tells us, that " he who 
 provides not for his own house has de- 
 nied the faith, and is worse than an infi- 
 del." If this be true of temporal, what 
 shall be said of him who neglects to make 
 * for his own" a spiritual provision ? 
 Does not he far more emphatically deny 
 " that faith" which is violated even in 
 the other inferior case ? 
 
 If we have begun to instruct the poor 
 with a view to check the spirit of in- 
 subordination, that spirit requires little 
 J less suppression in our own families. In 
 all ranks it is the prevailing evil of the 
 present day. The diminished obedience 
 of children to parents, of servants to 
 masters, of subjects to sovereigns, all 
 spring from one common root — an 
 abatement of reverence for the authority 
 of God.
 
 86 England's best hope* 
 
 Fathers should therefore keep up in 
 their offspring, as long as possible, a de- 
 pendence on themselves, without which 
 they will gradually shake off their de- 
 pendence on their Maker. Independence 
 of every kind, as it is the prevailing 
 wish, so it is the most alarming danger. 
 With filial obedience, obedience to Di- 
 vine authority will become connected ; 
 but the muzzle of domestic restraint 
 shaken off, there will be no control of 
 any kind left. Might not a more exact 
 Christian institution help to arrest the 
 same spirit which has, within a few 
 years, so frequently broken out in our, in 
 many respects, excellent public schools ? 
 We mean not altogether to censure these 
 honourable seminaries. Do not the 
 youth carry thither, rather than acquire 
 there, this want of subordination ? Is it 
 not too often previously fostered at home 
 by the habits of luxury, the taste for 
 expense, the unrestrained indulgences, 
 the unsubdued tempers, which so ill pre- 
 pare them to submit to moral discipline ?
 
 ENGLAND^ BEST HOPE. 87 
 
 Laxity of manners and of principles act 
 reciprocally : they are alternately cause 
 and effect. 
 
 Tender parents are, indeed, grieved 
 at the indications of evil dispositions 
 in their children ; but even worthy 
 people do not always study the human 
 character : they are too much disposed 
 to believe this budding vice but acci- 
 dental defect — a failing which time 
 will cure. Time cures nothing ; time 
 only inveterates, only exasperates, where 
 religion is not called in as a corrective. 
 It is in vain to hope to tame the head- 
 strong violence of the passions by a few 
 moral sentences j — the curb is too weak 
 for the natural ferocity of the animal. 
 If the most religious education does not 
 always answer the end, what end is an 
 education, in which religion does not 
 predominate, likely to produce ? How is 
 the Christian character likely to be 
 formed without the strict inculcation of 
 religious principles, without the power-
 
 ful discipline of religious and moral 
 habits ? 
 
 Parents are naturally and honourably 
 anxious about advancing the interests of 
 their sons j but they do not always ex- 
 tend this anxiety to their best interests. 
 They prepare them for the world, but 
 neglect to prepare them for eternity. 
 We recal our words ; they do not even 
 make the best preparation for the world. 
 Their affection is warm, but it is short- 
 sighted ; for surely that principle which 
 is the root of all virtuous action, of all 
 the great qualities of the heart, of in- 
 tegrity, of sober-mindedness, of patience, 
 of self-denial, of veracity, of fortitude, of 
 perseverance in a right pursuit, is likely 
 to produce a character not unqualified 
 for the best services to society — for 
 advancement in life, for fitness for the 
 most useful employments, for adorning 
 the most honourable situations : for we do 
 not recommend such a religion as would 
 make ascetics, as would abstract men 
 from the business or the duties of life,
 
 England's best hope. 89 
 
 or from the true enjoyments of society. 
 There seems, indeed, little necessity for 
 guarding against evils of which we see 
 no great danger. 
 
 Gentfemen should be scholars ; liberal 
 learning need not interfere with religious 
 acquirements, unless it be so conducted 
 as to leave no time for its cultivation, 
 unless it cause them to consider religion 
 as an object of inferior regard. But no 
 human learning ought to keep religious 
 instruction in the back ground, so as to 
 render it an incidental, a subordinate 
 part in the education of a Christian gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 Some apology might be made for the 
 natives of a neighbouring kingdom for 
 their contempt of religion, from the load 
 of absurd and superstitious observances 
 which degrade it. Yet even they might 
 have discovered, under these disadvan- 
 tages, much that is good ; for they have 
 had writers who yield to none in eleva- 
 tion of sentiment, in loftiness of genius,
 
 90 England's best hope. 
 
 and sublimity of devotion. * Yet the 
 labours of these excellent men have left 
 the character of their religion unaltered. 
 But we have no such excuse to plead 
 for the contempt or neglect of religion. 
 Here, Christianity presents herself to us 
 neither dishonoured, degraded, nor dis- 
 figured. Here she is set before us in all 
 her original purity ; we see her in her 
 whole consistent character, in all her fair 
 and just proportions, as she came from 
 the hands of her Divine Author. We 
 see her as she has been completely res- 
 cued from that encumbering load under 
 
 * What has been said here and elsewhere of 
 France, and of the religion of France, has been said 
 " more in sorrow than in anger," and with the sin- 
 gle view of caution to our own country. However 
 we deprecate the past, we still cherish the hope, 
 that having witnessed the horrors of a political, we 
 may one day hail the dawn of a moral revolution. 
 A virtuous King, and an improving government, 
 leave us not without hope that this fair part of the 
 globe may yet rise in those essentials without which 
 a country can never be truly great. May they 
 eventually improve in " that righteousness which 
 alone exalteth a nation ! ''
 
 England's best hope. 91 
 
 which she had so long groaned ; deli- 
 vered from her heavy bondage, by the 
 labours of our blessed reformers, and 
 handed down to us unmutilated and un- 
 defaced. 
 
 If every English gentleman did but 
 seriously reflect, how much the future 
 moral prosperity of his country depended 
 on the education he may at this moment 
 be giving to his son, even if his paternal 
 feelings did not stimulate his zealous en- 
 deavours, his patriotic, would. 
 
 May the unworthy writer, who loves 
 her country with an ardour which the 
 superior worth of that country justifies ; 
 who, during a long life, has anxiously 
 watched its alternations of prosperous 
 and adverse fortune j and who, on the 
 very verge of eternity, is proportionally 
 anxious for its moral prosperity, as she 
 approaches nearer to that state, in view 
 of which all temporal considerations di- 
 minish in their value j — may she hope 
 that her egotism will be forgiven, and 
 her pardon be obtained for the liberty
 
 92 England's best hope. 
 
 she is taking ? May she venture to sup- 
 pose that she is now conversing with some 
 individual father of a family in the higher 
 ranks of life, and, presuming that he 
 would permit the freedom, address him, 
 and through him, every man of rank and 
 fortune in the kingdom, in plain and bold 
 language, with something like the follow- 
 ing suggestions ? 
 
 Let it be your principal concern to 
 train up your son in the fear of God. 
 Make this fear, which is not only " the 
 beginning of wisdom" in point of excel- 
 lence, the same also in priority of time. 
 Let the beginning of wisdom be made 
 the beginning of education. Imbue the 
 youthful mind betimes with correct tastes, 
 sound principles, good affections, and 
 right habits. Consider that the tastes, 
 principles, affections, and habits he now 
 forms, are to be the elements of his fu- 
 ture character ; the fountain of honour- 
 able actions, the germ of whatever may 
 hereafter be pure, virtuous, lovely, and 
 of good report.
 
 England's best hope. 93 
 
 In his education never lose sight of 
 this great truth, that irreligion is the 
 death of all that is graceful, and amiable, 
 in the human mind ; the destruction of 
 all moral beauty. Its foundations are in 
 the dust, and it is a vain attempt to hope 
 to raise a noble superstructure on so 
 mean and despicable a basis. Tell him, 
 that the irreligious man never looks out 
 of self. He is his own centre ; all his 
 views are low ; he has no conception of 
 any thing that is lofty in virtue, or sub- 
 lime in feeling. How should he ? He 
 does not look to God as the model of 
 perfection. He will act nothing that is 
 holy, for he does not honour his com- 
 mands ; he will conceive nothing that is 
 great, for he does not look to the Arche- 
 type of greatness ; there is no image of 
 true grandeur in his soul. His mind will 
 be reduced to the narrowness of the 
 things to which it is familiarized, and 
 stoop to the littleness of the objects about 
 which it is conversant. His views will 
 not be noble, because they are not ex-
 
 94 England's best hope. 
 
 cursive ; they are confined, imprisoned, 
 limed, entangled in earth and its con- 
 cerns ; they never expatiate in the 
 boundless regions of immortality. He 
 has no connecting link between himself 
 and things 
 
 " Beyond this visible diurnal sphere." 
 
 His soul is cramped in the exercise of 
 all its noblest faculties ; his heart para- 
 lyzed in its best attempts after a fugitive, 
 low-minded virtue. 
 
 . There is no true elevation of soul but 
 what the youth must acquire by the 
 knowledge of God as revealed in his 
 word ; no perfect example but that ex- 
 hibited to him in the character of his 
 Divine Son ; nothing but the Gospel, 
 through the grace of God, will check his 
 corruptions, give him a sense of his ac- 
 countableness, and raise his nature above 
 the degraded state to which sin has re- 
 duced it. 
 
 It is material to reflect that nothing 
 really preparative to his well-being in
 
 England's best hope. 95 
 
 this life, and conducive to his qualifica- 
 tion as an ornament to his country, will 
 otherwise than forward him in his pro- 
 gress for another country, " even a hea- 
 venly." Adopt the measures which even 
 nature and reason suggest for making 
 him a distinguished member of human 
 society, and it will not lessen your satis- 
 faction, nor lower your gratitude, when 
 you see that you , have not only trained 
 him to be a useful and virtuous citizen, 
 but also a candidate for heaven. 
 
 Let your child be made familiarly 
 acquainted with God's word, his provi- 
 dence, his controlling power, his superin- 
 tending eye. Let him be taught not 
 barely to read, but to understand, to 
 love, to venerate his Bible. Implant at 
 a proper season, in his mind, the evi- 
 dences of Christianity, in the clearest, 
 simplest, and most explicit manner. 
 Furnish him with arguments to defend 
 it ; for he will not fail to hear it attacked. 
 Teach him to despise ridicule, that last 
 resort of the bad defender of a bad
 
 96 ENGLAND^ BEST HOPE. 
 
 cause ; for he will find that those who 
 cannot argue can sneer, and he may feel 
 it harder to withstand the one than the 
 other. 
 
 Inform him that in France it was the 
 ignorance of religion which produced the 
 contempt of it ; and that both together 
 overturned the state, by inculcating 
 principles hostile to all virtue, fostering 
 passions destructive of all order, and an 
 impatience of control subversive of all 
 government ; all springing from one 
 common source, all meeting in one com- 
 mon centre, a combination to throw off 
 the government of God himself. Im- 
 press ^upon his young mind that import- 
 ant truth, that there can be no security 
 for a state in which religion is not warmly 
 yet wisely taught by its ministers, che- 
 rished by its government, and believed 
 and reverenced by the people. 
 
 There are certain traditional sayings 
 
 which claim a sort of prescriptive right 
 
 to be received, which pass unexamined, 
 
 and are credited as oracular. Guard 
 
 8
 
 England's best hope, 97 
 
 him against these false and sordid, but 
 popular maxims, which, though the 
 phrases may be used chiefly by the lower 
 orders, the things themselves are practi- 
 cally adopted, pretty equally, by " the 
 great vulgar, and the small." Some vin- 
 dicate speculatively loose principles, by 
 the assertion that " thoughts are free." 
 Tell your son this is not true. A Chris- 
 tian must endeavour to bring his thoughts 
 to the same correct standard with his 
 actions, and from the same awful motive, 
 " Thou God seest !" 
 
 There is another popular but unfound- 
 ed axiom respecting the use of wealth, 
 namely, that " A man may do what he 
 will with his own." Christianity denies 
 this assertion also. Every man has in- 
 deed a legal right to the disposal of his 
 own property, but religion interdicts his 
 right to spend it in vanity or vice ; or if 
 he be exempt from these grosser tempt- 
 ations, she still abridges his right to 
 monopolise it. Christianity expects that 
 the deserving and the distressed shall 
 
 F
 
 9$< enoland's best hope. 
 
 come in for such a proportion of his 
 wealth as an enlightened conscience shall 
 dictate. The divine person who refused, 
 in a legal sense, to be " a divider, or a 
 judge," over a contested property, did 
 not fail to graft on the question he avoided 
 answering, the imperative caution, " Take 
 heed, and beware of covetousness." 
 
 There is another fatal lesson which he 
 will learn in the world, and which the 
 natural pride of his own heart will se- 
 cond ; namely, that to resent an injury is 
 a mark of spirit, while to forgive it shows 
 a base mind. The prince of darkness, in 
 his long catalogue of expedients, never 
 invented a maxim which has brought 
 more generous, but ill-disciplined souls 
 to destruction. 
 
 The uncurbed desires, the unrestrained 
 passions, to which we have before ad- 
 verted, the contempt of submission, 
 the supposed meanness of forbearance, 
 the hot resentments not controlled be- 
 times in the boy, may have been pre- 
 paring the man for an act which may
 
 England's best hope. 99 
 
 hereafter fill his whole life with cureless 
 remorse. 
 
 Boys well born, and accustomed to 
 well-bred society, have a sort of instinct- 
 ive notion of honour, which is strength- 
 ened by the conversation to which they 
 are sometimes exposed. Seize upon this 
 spirit, whether instinctive or contracted, 
 but seize it with a view to convert it to 
 higher purposes. This popular notion of 
 honour may seem to give dignity to the 
 tone of his conversation, while it is in- 
 flating his heart with arrogance. It may 
 indeed set him above doing an act which 
 some fashionable men may agree to call 
 base, but it will not preserve him from a 
 duel, which these same men agree to call 
 honourable. But whatever acquittal a 
 jury of the world's men of honour may 
 pronounce on such a transaction, it will, 
 by that awful decision from which there 
 lies no appeal, by the definitive sentence 
 of the great Judge of quick and dead, 
 be pronounced murder ; — murder of 
 one of the combatants in the act, of both 
 f 2
 
 100 ENGLAND S BEST HOPE. 
 
 in the intention ; murder as criminal as 
 that which brings its ..vulgar perpetrator 
 on the highway to his ignominious ca- 
 tastrophe. There is not, perhaps, a more 
 hopeless crime than the last act of the 
 duellist : he seeks out his own execu- 
 tioner, precipitates himself uncalled into 
 the presence of his Judge, and not only 
 the last desire of his heart, but the last 
 effort of his hand, is revenge. 
 
 Lay hold, then, on this high-minded 
 feeling, and endeavour to direct it into 
 a purer channel. Lead his aspiring 
 mind to higher objects. Let the hope of 
 the favour, and the dread of the dis- 
 pleasure of God, expel from his heart a 
 too eager desire to court the applause, or 
 escape the censure of irreligious men, by 
 acts which, while they would offend his 
 Maker, would destroy his own soul. 
 Let him learn to distinguish between 
 the swellings of human arrogance, and 
 the consciousness of Christian dignity. 
 Worldly maxims of honour are tumid, 
 but they are not great.
 
 England's best hope. lOl 
 
 There is no sure preservation from 
 these mischiefs, but in an education 
 formed on the religion of Jesus Christ). 
 The principles drawn from the spirit of 
 the Gospel, conscientiously adopted, and 
 acted upon, would subvert all the hollow 
 and destructive maxims of the worldly 
 code. How many boiling passions might 
 have been cooled, how many disap- 
 pointed hearts and mourning spirits 
 healed, how many duels, how many 
 suicides (both now so dreadfully pre- 
 valent) might have been prevented, by 
 the early and unremitted application of 
 this one grand specific. 
 
 Cultivate in your son whatever is va- 
 luable in science, or elegant in literature. 
 Independently of its own intrinsic worth, 
 it will, by filling up his time and engag- 
 ing his thoughts, assist in setting his 
 mind above low and sordid tastes, and 
 leave him little leisure or relish for the 
 base and grovelling pursuits of sensuality. 
 A love of learning judiciously instilled, 
 is amongst the most probable human pre- 
 f 3
 
 102 England's best hope. 
 
 servatives from vulgar vice j though since 
 it is human, it can go but certain lengths 
 as to moral benefit; and we have wit- 
 nessed many deplorable instances of its 
 failure, in minds of the highest literary 
 attainments, for want of being under 
 the direction of a superior principle. It 
 is, however, a most valuable auxiliary, 
 not only in improving the intellect and 
 Tefining the taste, but, as we have already 
 observed, in rescuing so much leisure 
 from inferior pursuits. 
 
 But learning, be it repeated, though 
 it invigorates the mind, will not reform 
 it. It is a shining ornament, but not of 
 the nature of a corrective. Moral evil 
 is not cured, is not regulated, — nay, it 
 might even be inflamed by it, where in- 
 tellectual science is made its own end, 
 and not considered subservient to a 
 higher. Learning will strongly teach 
 him to depise what is worthless in com- 
 position, but will feebly lift him above 
 what is unworthy in practice. It will 
 correct his taste, but will not enable him
 
 England's best hope. 103 
 
 to resist temptation : it will improve his 
 judgment of the world, but will not se- 
 cure him from its pollutions. Human 
 learning will only teach him the know- 
 ledge of others, the Bible that of him- 
 self. 
 
 Let him therefore enter into the battle 
 of the world armed with weapons from 
 the divine armoury; stoutly furnished 
 with motives and arguments drawn from 
 religion, of potency to fortify his reso- 
 lutions, convince his understanding, and 
 affect his heart. Let him see in your 
 own example, that religion is neither 
 unmanly nor ungentlemanly. Accustom 
 him not to hear the three dominant spi- 
 ritual and intellectual sins, pride, self- 
 ishness, and egotism, treated with an 
 indulgence not shown to such as are 
 more disreputable, gross, and scandalous. 
 Against both classes the whole artillery 
 of the Gospel is impartially levelled. Of 
 the first, peculiar condemnation is in- 
 timated in Scripture. Of pride it is 
 
 observed, that " God resisteth the proud," 
 f 4
 
 104 England's best hope, 
 
 and that it is hard to be found " fighting 
 against God." Against selfishness it is 
 specifically proclaimed, that " no man" 
 with any pretensions to a Christian cha- 
 racter " liveth to himself;" that we are 
 not to " seek our own things," and that 
 we must " bear one another's burdens." 
 Against egotism a host of precepts pre- 
 sent themselves in battle-array, — "to 
 esteem others better than ourselves, to 
 avoid vain glory, to look on the things 
 of others ; to be slow to speak, ready to 
 hear." 
 
 Though these interior and mental sins 
 are as much cherished by impiety as 
 those which are coarser and more noto- 
 rious, yet as the latter can produce no 
 plausible pretence for their indulgence ; 
 as they cannot be qualified by any so- 
 phistry, nor covered by any artifice, they 
 are less likely to hold out to the end. 
 Morality is disgusted by vulgar vice, by 
 the practical sins of the sensual man ; 
 but mere morality can never extirpate 
 the vices of the heart and mind: it is
 
 England's best hope. 105 
 
 not always her aim, nor if it were, could 
 she accomplish it. 
 
 In your conversation with the young 
 person, do not be satisfied to generalise 
 religion. Religion is an indefinite term, 
 a vague word, which may be made to in- 
 volve a variety of meanings, and to 
 amalgamate a number of discrepancies. 
 It may release a man from all the pre- 
 scribed institutions of Christianity ; it 
 may set him loose from all its peculiar 
 doctrines and restraints ; turn him adrift, 
 and dismiss him to his choice between 
 the " Jehovah, Jove, or Lord," of the 
 sceptical poet. Since life and immorta- 
 lity have been brought to light by the 
 Gospel, a general religion is no religion 
 at all. His must be the religion of the 
 New Testament. Be not ashamed to 
 teach your son the Gospel of Jesus 
 Christ. If you believe that there is no 
 other name under heaven by which your- 
 self can be saved, you must be assured 
 that there is no other salvation for your 
 son. Defer not then too long to com- 
 f 5
 
 106 England's best hope. 
 
 municate to him the distinctive pecu* 
 liarities of our faith. Other notions will 
 occupy the space which you leave vacant. 
 O ! stamp the right impressions on his 
 heart while it is soft, tender, and ductile ; 
 and he will hereafter mix these early im- 
 bibed feelings, and sentiments, and prin- 
 ciples, with his other sweet associations, 
 his other pleasing recollections of the 
 vernal season of life j cherished images ! 
 which the matured mind is fond of re- 
 tracing, and which commonly remain 
 vivid when most others have faded, or 
 are obliterated. 
 
 Fancy not that these acquisitions and 
 pursuits will blight the opening buds of 
 youthful gaiety j that they will check 
 his vivacity, or obstruct his amiable 
 cheerfulness. The ingenuous unvitiated 
 mind is never so happy as when in a 
 state of virtuous exertion, as when en- 
 gaged about some object to which it 
 must look up ; something which, kin- 
 dling its energies, raises its views j some-
 
 England's best hope. 107 
 
 thing which excites the noble ambition 
 of lifting it above itself. 
 
 Much less fear that the pursuits here 
 recommended will depress his genius ; it 
 will exalt it ; his mind will find wider 
 room in which to expand ; his horizon 
 will be more extensive ; his intellectual 
 eye will take in a wider range ; the 
 whole man will have an ampler region in 
 which to expatiate. To know that he is 
 formed for immortality, is not likely to 
 contract his ideas, or to shorten his views. 
 It is irreligion which shrinks and shrivels 
 up the faculties, by debasing the spirit, 
 and degrading the soul. 
 
 And if to know that he is an immortal 
 being will exalt his ideas, to know that 
 he is an accountable being will correct 
 his habits. If to know that " God is" 
 will raise his thoughts and desires to all 
 that is perfect, fair, and good, — to know 
 that " God is the rewarder of all them 
 that seek Him," will stimulate him in 
 the race of Christian duty j — to know 
 f 6
 
 108 England's best hope. 
 
 that there is a day in which God will 
 judge the world, will quicken his prepar- 
 ation for that day. 
 
 As he advances in age and knowledge,, 
 impress upon his mind, that in that day 
 of awful inquisition he must stand un- 
 connected, single, naked ! It is not the 
 best attachments he may have formed, 
 the most valuable societies to which he 
 may have belonged, that will then stand 
 him in any stead. He must therefore 
 join them now with a pure and simple 
 intention ; — he must not seek them as 
 something on which to lean, as some- 
 thing with which to share his responsi- 
 bility; — this is his own single, undivided 
 concern. It is vain to hope that by be- 
 longing to any society, however good, to 
 any party, however honourable, he can 
 shrink from his own personal, individual 
 accountableness. The union of the la- 
 bourers gives no claim to the division of 
 the responsibility. In this world we may 
 be most useful among bodies of men ; in 
 the great judgment we must stand alone.
 
 England's best hope. 109 
 
 We assist them here, but they cannot 
 answer for us hereafter. 
 
 From his Bible, and from his Bible 
 only, let him draw his sense of those 
 principles, of that standard by which he 
 will hereafter be judged ; and be care- 
 ful ever to distinguish in his mind be- 
 tween the worldly morality which he 
 may learn from the multitude, and that 
 Christian holiness which is the dictate 
 of the Scriptures, and of the Scriptures 
 alone. Teach him to discover there, — 
 he cannot discover it too soon, — that it is 
 not a set of proverbial moral maxims, 
 a few random good actions, decorous 
 and inoffensive manners, the effect of 
 natural feeling, of fashion, of custom, 
 of regard to health, of desire of repu- 
 tation, that will make a truly valuable 
 character. This is not to be acquired 
 by certain popular virtues, or rather 
 fractions of virtues ; for there is no 
 integral virtue where there is no reli- 
 gion. Pleasing manners will attract 
 popular regard, and worldly motives will
 
 110 England's best hope. 
 
 produce popular actions ; but genuine 
 virtue proceeds only from Christian prin- 
 ciples. The one is efflorescence, the 
 other is fruit. 
 
 After all, though you cannot by your 
 best exertions, seconded by the most 
 fervent prayer, without which, exertion 
 will neither be rightly directed nor suc- 
 cessfully prosecuted, command success ; 
 yet what a support will it be under the 
 possible defeat of your fairest hopes, that 
 you strove to avert it ! Even if, through 
 the prevalence of temptation, the per- 
 verseness of his own nature, and the 
 malignity of his corruptions, the bar- 
 barous son should disappoint the best 
 founded hopes of the careful parent ; 
 what a heart-felt consolation would it 
 afford you, under this heaviest of all 
 trials, that the misconduct of the child 
 is not imputable to the neglect of the 
 father ! The severest evil — and this 
 perhaps is the most severe — is support- 
 able, when not aggravated by the con- 
 sciousness that we have contributed to
 
 England's best hope. Ill 
 
 bring it upon ourselves. Though it will 
 not pluck the sting from his guilt, it will 
 render the poignancy of your own anguish 
 more tolerable. 
 
 But let us indulge higher hopes and 
 brighter prospects for our country. We 
 refer to those hopes with which the first 
 chapter of this little work concluded, 
 namely, the rich provision which God 
 has put into our hands for accomplishing 
 his great designs in our favour. The 
 hope there expressed, and the means 
 humbly suggested for accomplishing it, 
 was the reformation of the British cha- 
 racter. We have here, feebly indeed, 
 but honestly, shown what obviously ap- 
 pears to be the best security, the most 
 effectual barrier, against the vices and 
 contamination of our prolonged con- 
 tinental intercourse. Religious educa- 
 tion, with God's blessing upon it, which 
 every truly Christian father will not fail 
 to invoke, is all in all towards the re- 
 storation, the elevation, the preservation 
 of our national character. And let it
 
 112 England's best hope. 
 
 never be forgotten, that it is the educa- 
 tion of the rich which must finally deter- 
 mine the fate, at once of rich and poor ; 
 and by consequence, which must deter- 
 mine the destiny of our country. 
 
 Here then is Britain's last, best hope ; 
 and when we consider the unparalleled 
 advantages we possess in a learned and 
 orthodox clergy, who instruct us in the 
 sanctuary, and who preside over our 
 public and private seminaries, why need 
 we despair ? Why need we doubt, that 
 the Christian religion, grafted on the sub- 
 stantial stock of the genuine British 
 character, and watered by the dews of 
 heaven, may bring forth the noblest 
 productions of which this lower world is 
 capable ; though neither the security nor 
 the triumph will be complete till these 
 " Trees of Righteousness" are trans- 
 planted into the paradise of God ? 
 
 Reader, if you are indeed a Christian 
 
 father, anticipate in idea that triumphant 
 
 moment, when, having cast your crown 
 
 at the foot of the eternal throne, you 
 ii
 
 England's best hope. 113 
 
 shall be called upon to give an account 
 of your own conduct, and, as far as had 
 depended on you, of that of your off- 
 spring. Think of the multiplied felici- 
 ties of meeting, in the presence of God, 
 those whom your example and instruction 
 have, through his grace, contributed to 
 bring thither ! Think what it will be, to 
 be able, amidst all the hosts of heaven, 
 amidst the innumerable company of 
 angels, and the spirits of just men made 
 perfect — think of being able to say to 
 the Universal Father, " Behold, I and 
 the children whom thou hast given me !"
 
 . 
 
 ' 
 

 
 ON 
 
 DOMESTIC ERRORS 
 
 IN OPINION, 
 
 AND 
 
 IN CERTAIN PRACTICAL HABITS.
 
 ON SOUNDNESS IN JUDGMENT, AND 
 CONSISTENCY IN CONDUCT. 
 
 As a preliminary to the following pages, 
 the writer begs leave to observe, that they 
 consist rather of miscellaneous observ- 
 ations on a variety of topics, than in an 
 attempt at a systematic view of religion 
 or morals. It does not pretend to pre- 
 sent an exhibition of Christian doctrine, 
 or to prescribe the duties of a Christian 
 life. It is presumed that the generality 
 of readers who shall honour these pages 
 with their attention, are already, in a 
 greater or less degree, religious cha- 
 racters ; consequently, standing in little 
 need of such information as her humble 
 talents could have imparted. But as 
 religion is become a subject of increas- 
 ing and more general interest, it may
 
 118 ON SOUNDNESS IN JUDGMENT, 
 
 not be unseasonable, as we proceed, to 
 point out some of the dangers to which 
 the less advanced Christian may be liable, 
 as well as some of the evils which may 
 subsist with a high outward profession. 
 To those who are beginning to see the 
 importance of religion — and of such per- 
 sons, adored be Almighty goodness ! the 
 number is rapidly augmenting — to those 
 interesting characters, may the writer 
 venture to address a few words of affec- 
 tionate and respectful counsel ? 
 
 Carefully encourage the first dawning 
 dispositions of piety in your heart, che- 
 rish every indication of a change in your 
 views and an improvement in your sen- 
 timents. Let not the world, nor the 
 things of the world, stifle the new-born 
 principle, nor make you ashamed mo- 
 destly to avow it. 
 
 But while you cultivate this principle 
 by every possible means, avoid the 
 danger of fancying that your religion is 
 confirmed when it is scarcely begun. 
 Do not conclude that a complete change
 
 AND CONSISTENCY IN CONDUCT. 119 
 
 has been effected in your heart because 
 there is a revolution in your opinions, 
 and a favourable alteration in your 
 feelings. The formation of a Christian 
 character is hot the work of a day ; not 
 only are the views to be changed, but 
 the habits to be new-moulded ; not 
 only is the heart to be convinced of sin, 
 but its propensities are to be bent into a 
 contrary direction. Be not impatient, 
 therefore, to make a public disclosure of 
 your sentiments. Religion is an in,, 
 terior concern, Try yourselves, prove 
 yourselves, examine yourselves, distrust 
 yourselves. Seek counsel of wise, esta- 
 blished, sober Christians. Pray ear- 
 nestly for more light and knowledge, 
 and especially for perseverance. Pray 
 that you may be able to go on with the 
 same zeal with which you set out. Of 
 how many may it be said, " Ye did 
 run well— what hindered you?" You 
 ran too fast ; your speed exhausted your 
 strength j— you had not counted the 
 cost.
 
 120 ON SOUNDNESS IN JUDGMENT, 
 
 Carefully distinguish between the fe- 
 verish heat of animal fervour, and the 
 vital warmth of Christian feeling. Mere 
 youthful energy, operating upon a newly- 
 awakened remorse for a thoughtless life, 
 will carry the mind certain lengths ; but 
 if unaccompanied with humility, repent- 
 ance, and a continual application for 
 a better strength than your own, this 
 slight resource will soon fail. It is not 
 that principle which will encourage pro- 
 gress ; it is not that Divine support 
 which will carry you on to the end. 
 The Christian race is not to be run at a 
 heat : religion is a steady, progressive 
 course ; it gains strength by going, and 
 eventually it gains speed also : progress 
 quickens the pace ; for the nearer the 
 approach to the goal, the more ardent 
 is the desire to reach it. And though, 
 in your further advance, you may ima- 
 gine yourself not so near as you did 
 when you first set out, this is not really 
 the case ; — you have a lower opinion of 
 your state, because you have obtained
 
 AND CONSISTENCY IN CONDUCT. 121 
 
 higher views of the spirituality of tiie 
 law of God, and a more humbling sense 
 of your own unworthiness. Even the 
 almost Christian prophet seems not to 
 have been previously so deeply convinced 
 of sin, as when, overwhelmed by the 
 glory of the Divine vision, he exclaimed, 
 " Mine eyes have seen the King, the 
 Lord of Hosts !" 
 
 The person who addresses you has 
 seen some promising characters sadly 
 disappoint the hopes their early stages in 
 religion had excited. By taking too 
 high a tone at first, they not only lost all 
 the ground they had gained, but sunk 
 into indifference themselves, accompanied 
 with a prejudice against serious piety in 
 others. They not only became deserters, 
 but went over to the enemy's camp. 
 Avoid their error. The world is too 
 much disposed to impute rashness, pre- 
 sumption, and enthusiasm to the purest 
 and most correct religious characters. 
 In your instance let them not be fur- 
 nished with any ground for this censure 
 
 G
 
 122 ON SOUNDNESS IN JUDGMENT, 
 
 by your deserving it. If you advance, 
 you glorify God, and promote your own 
 salvation ; if you recede, you injure the 
 cause you now intend to serve, and 
 bring upon yourselves a fearful condem- 
 nation. Self-abasement, self-examination, 
 and prayer, are the best preservatives 
 for all who have entered on a religious 
 life, and are especially becoming in in- 
 cipient Christians. 
 
 There is one thing we would more 
 particularly press on the important class 
 we are now taking the liberty to address ; 
 — it is tJie cultivation of a sound judgment. 
 Of all persons, religious persons are most 
 bound to cultivate this precious faculty. 
 We see how highly the great Apostle of 
 the Gentiles valued it. In directing the 
 spiritual labours of his beloved young 
 friend, in stirring him up to every good 
 word and work, he does not forget this 
 exhortation : — " The Lord give thee a 
 right understanding in all things /? ' Again , 
 he prays for his beloved Philippians, " that 
 their love may abound more and more in
 
 AND CONSISTENCY IN CONDUCT. 123 
 
 knowledge and in all judgment." And 
 in his Epistle to the youthful Bishop of 
 Crete, he repeats the admonition to young 
 persons of both sexes to be sober-minded. 
 These admonitions acquire great addi- 
 tional force when it is considered, that 
 he who gave them was a man of exceed- 
 ing ardency of temper, and of zeal 
 without a parallel. This experienced 
 saint must have frequently seen the 
 danger of imprudent piety, of self- 
 confidence, of a zeal not regulated by 
 knowledge ; and therefore presses the 
 great importance of a sound judgment. 
 
 Judgment is to the faculties of the 
 mind, what charity is to the virtues 
 of the heart; as without charity the 
 latter are of little worth, so without 
 judgment talents are of little com- 
 parative use. 
 
 Judgment, with the aid of God's 
 
 spirit, and the instructions of his word, 
 
 is the balance in which qualities are 
 
 weighed, by which the proportions of 
 
 g 2
 
 124 ON SOUNDNESS IN JUDGMENT, 
 
 our duties, and the harmony of our 
 virtues, are preserved ; for it keeps not 
 only the talents in just subordination, but 
 the principles in due equipoise. When 
 exercised in subservience to the Divine 
 rule, the faculty becomes a virtue, and a 
 virtue of a higher order. It restrains 
 irregularity, it subdues vanity, it corrects 
 impetuosity, it checks enthusiasm, and it 
 checks it without diminishing zeal. 
 
 One of the most powerful defenders, 
 not only of our church polity, but of 
 our church doctrines, has had the re- 
 'no'wnof all his great qualities so absorbed 
 in the quality we are recommending ; or, 
 rather, this was so much the faculty 
 which maintained his great talents and 
 qualities in their due order, that we 
 never read the name of Hooker without 
 the previous application of this weighty 
 epithet — the judicious. 
 
 Judgment is so far from being a cooler 
 or zeal, as some suppose, that it increases 
 its effect by directing its movements; 
 ahd a warm heart will always produce
 
 AND CONSISTENCY IN CONDUCT. 1-25 
 
 more extensive, because more lasting 
 good, when conducted by a cool head. 
 
 We speak of this attribute the more 
 positively, because it is one which, more 
 than many others, depends on ourselves. 
 A sound judgment, indeed, is equally 
 bestowed with other blessings by Him 
 from whom cometh every good gift ; yet 
 it is not, like the other faculties of the 
 mind, so much born with us, as im- 
 proved by us. By teaching us to discern 
 the faults of others, it warns us to avoid 
 them ; by detecting our own, it leads to 
 their cure. The deepest humility is 
 generally connected with the soundest 
 judgment. The judicious Christian is 
 watchful against speculative errors, as 
 well as against errors in conduct. He 
 never adopts any opinion because it is 
 new, nor any practice because it is 
 fashionable ; neither does he, if it be 
 innocent, reject the latter merely for 
 that reason. Judgment is, in short, that 
 quality of the mind which requires to be 
 kept in ever wakeful activity ; and the 
 g 3
 
 126 ON SOUNDNESS IN JUDGMENT,^ 
 
 advantages it procures us, and the evils 
 from which it preserves us, will be more 
 apparent, the more it is kept in exercise. 
 Religious charity more especially de- 
 mands the full exercise of the judgment. 
 A judicious Christian will double the 
 good done, by his selection of the object, 
 and his manner of relieving it. All 
 things that are good are not equally 
 good. A sound judgment discriminates 
 between the value of the claimants which 
 present themselves, and bestows on them 
 more or less attention, according to their 
 respective claims. 
 
 3d Above all, an enlightened judgment 
 will enable you to attain and to preserve 
 consistency, that infallible criterion of 
 a highly-finished Christian character, the 
 want of which makes some really re- 
 ligious persons not a little vulnerable. 
 It was this want in some of his people, 
 which led an eminent divine, at once 
 a man of deep piety and lively wit, 
 to say, that " there were some good 
 persons, with whom it would be time
 
 AND CONSISTENCY IN CONDUCT. 127 
 
 enough to be acquainted in heaven." 
 So much to be regretted is it that good- 
 ness of intention is not always attended 
 by propriety in the execution. 
 
 In another class, the want of con- 
 sistency makes not a few appear over 
 scrupulous as to some minor points, and 
 lax in others of more importance. 
 These incongruities not only bring the 
 individual into discredit, but religion 
 into disgrace. When the world sees per- 
 sons, whose views are far from high, act 
 more consistently with their avowed 
 views, and frequently more above them, 
 than some whose religion professes to be 
 of a loftier standard, they will prefer the 
 lower, as exhibiting fewer discrepancies, 
 and less obvious contradictions. 
 
 Consistency presents Christianity in 
 her fairest attitude, in all her lovely 
 proportion of figure, and correct sym- 
 metry of feature. Consistency is the 
 beautiful result of all the qualities and 
 graces of a truly religious mind united 
 and brought into action, each indivi- 
 g 4
 
 128 ON SOUNDNESS IN JUDGMENT, 
 
 dually right, all relatively associated. 
 Where the character is consistent, preju- 
 dice cannot ridicule, nor infidelity sneer. 
 It may, indeed, be censured, as holding 
 up a standard above the attainment of 
 the careless. The world may dislike, 
 but it cannot despise it. 
 
 In the more advanced Christian, reli- 
 gion may seem to be less prominent in 
 parts of the character, because it is in- 
 fused into the whole. Like the life- 
 blood, its vital power pervades the entire 
 system : not an action of the life that 
 is not governed by it ; not a quality 
 of the mind which does not partake 
 of its spirit. It is diffused through the 
 whole conduct, and sheds its benign 
 influence, not only on the things done, 
 but on the temper of the doer in per- 
 forming them. The affections now have 
 other objects, the time other duties, 
 the thoughts other employments. There 
 will be more exertion, but with less dis- 
 play ; less show, because the principle 
 is become more interior ; it will be less
 
 AND CONSISTENCY IN CONDUCT. i'^9 
 
 obtrusive, because it is more rooted and 
 grounded. There will be more humility, 
 because the heart will have found out its 
 own corruptions. 
 
 By the continual exercise of the judg- 
 ment, and an habitual aim at consistency, 
 the Christian, though animated, will be 
 orderly. He will be less subject to the 
 ebullitions of zeal, as well as to the lan- 
 gours of its decay. Thus, through the 
 joint operation of judgment in the in- 
 tellect, and principle in the heart, the 
 religion is become equable, regular, con- 
 sistent. 
 
 There never was but one visible exhi- 
 bition of infallible judgment and com- 
 plete consistency. In that Divine person 
 who vouchsafed to pitch His tent among 
 us, and to dwell with men on earth, that 
 He might give us a perfect example in 
 His life, before He obtained salvation 
 for us by His death — in Him alone 
 was judgment without any shadow of 
 error, consistency without any speck of 
 g 5
 
 130 ON SOUNDNESS IN JUDGMENT, &C. 
 
 imperfection. His Divine perfections 
 none can approach j but all may humbly 
 imitate those which come within the com- 
 pass of His humanity. 
 
 tfQIDJ 
 
 . ■ 
 . 
 
 : 
 
 ■ 
 
 ■ 
 !
 
 381 
 
 (riu 
 
 . ..- 
 
 ON NOVEL OPINIONS IN RELIGION. 
 
 Among the numerous innovations of 
 this innovating age, it is deeply to be 
 lamented, that religion should come in 
 for so large a portion. Of this we have 
 a melancholy instance in the system of 
 the new secession.. Many are distorting 
 the sacred doctrines, and slighting the 
 practical ethics of the New Testament. 
 The religion of the Gospel is employed 
 to furnish arms against itself. The truth, 
 as it is in Jesus, is fearlessly contro- 
 verted : its sanctity is no security ; its 
 Divine authority is no protection. 
 
 In the new system — strange to say ! 
 the hardihood of the sceptic is adopted 
 for the professed purpose of purifying 
 g 6
 
 132 ON NOVEL OPINIONS 
 
 Christianity. The dogmatism of the tin- 
 believer is employed for improving our 
 faith in the religion which the unbe- 
 liever denies ! 
 
 This heterogeneous system, composed 
 of different elements, made up of con- 
 flicting principles, unhappily is not 
 brought forward by the avowed opposers, 
 but by the professed and zealous friends 
 of Christianity ; — by religionists placing 
 themselves much above the standard of 
 their former pious associates with whom 
 they once went to the house of God as 
 friends ; by Christians so critically scru- 
 pulous, that they can no longer go to 
 that house at alL 
 
 Novelties in the sciences and in the 
 arts may be, and generally are, bene- 
 ficial. Every invention may be an im- 
 provement ; but in religion they are 
 delusions. Genuine Christianity is not, 
 as one class of men seem to suppose, 
 a modern invention ; serious piety is 
 no fresh innovation. " That which was 
 from the beginning declare we unto 
 8
 
 IN RELIGION. 133 
 
 you," axe the words of inspiration ; the 
 new and living way, therefore, now so 
 much depreciated, is only a continuation 
 in the good old way so long ago recom- 
 mended by the Prophet. 
 
 Nor is Christianity, as the recent party 
 seem to suppose, a superannuated thing, 
 which wants repairing; nor is it an 
 incomplete thing, which wants filling 
 up ; nor is it a redundant thing, whose 
 excrescences want lopping ; nor a de- 
 fective thing, whose deficiencies must be 
 supplied ; nor an erroneous thing, whose 
 errors must be expunged. 
 
 But to do these malecontents justice, 
 they do not resemble those reformers 
 who : are contented to expose the defects 
 of an existing system, without providing 
 a remedy. This restoration, this purify- 
 ing, this repairing, this expunging, this 
 lopping, this grafting, this perfecting, 
 they have actually and gratuitously taken 
 into their own hands, with a view either 
 to improve the old religion, or, as their 
 progress in error rather threatens, to pro-
 
 134 ON NOVEL OPINIONS 
 
 duce a new one ; while the champions of 
 the antiquated system all agree that " the 
 old is better." 
 
 Some Christians of the primitive ages 
 were not then, perhaps many of the 
 present age are not now, aware, that he 
 who overleaps the truth, errs as widely 
 as he who falls short of it ; nay, the 
 danger is even greater, as it is more 
 difficult to recede than to advance. It 
 was the vain desire of overturning esta- 
 blished .truths, of being wiser than the 
 wisdom of God, of *being more perfect 
 than the perfection of the Gospel, of 
 giving new glosses to old opinions, and 
 rejecting all opinions which did not hit 
 their own distempered fancies ; together 
 with the temptation of being considered 
 as the founders of a new school, — which 
 gave rise to the Ebionites, the Cerinthians, 
 the Marcionites, and various other sects ; 
 and which has continued, to this day, to 
 introduce successive heresies into the 
 church of Christ. 
 
 Of the two classes above mentioned,
 
 IN RELIGION. 135 
 
 — those who think true religion a no- 
 velty, and those who are endeavouring 
 to introduce a novel religion, though 
 they are the very antipodes of each 
 other, yet it is difficult to determine 
 which has wandered most widely from 
 the truth. Scylla has its wrecks as well 
 as Charybdis. Though each thinks that 
 the only way to safety is to recede as 
 far as possible from the other, yet, by 
 this increasing desire of mutual reces- 
 sion, they are in more danger of gra- 
 dually approaching to each other, if not 
 of finally meeting, than either intended 
 or believed at first setting out. 
 
 In one quarter we hear the most con- 
 soling of all doctrines, — the doctrine on 
 which the great hinge of Christianity 
 turns, — rejected as false, and its de- 
 fenders derided, as if they were adopting 
 it to be a substitute for virtuous practice. 
 We hear one community spoken of by 
 its professors as triumphantly bearing 
 away from all others the proud distinc- 
 tion of rationality. It is a monopoly not
 
 186 ON NOVEL OPINIONS 
 
 to be allowed. If by rational religion 
 is meant a religion singularly adapted 
 to rational beings, no church on earth 
 has a fairer claim to the appellation than 
 the Church of England. It is rational to 
 exercise our reason in examining and 
 weighing the evidences of Christianity ; 
 and, having clearly proved the authority 
 on which they are grounded, it is then 
 rational to submit our reason to its 
 doctrines. It is rational to believe that 
 we are apostates from our original bright- 
 ness; not only because we perceive it 
 to be a scriptural doctrine, but because 
 we see it in all around us, and feel it in 
 all within us. 
 
 It is rational for a being conscious of 
 its weakness, to desire to lean upon 
 something that is strong; we therefore 
 lean upon a rock, and that rock is 
 Christ. Our church is a rational church ; 
 for it is sober without coldness, and ani- 
 mated without enthusiasm. Its service 
 unites the affections of the heart with 
 the faculties of the mind ; it teaches to
 
 IN RELIGION. 137 
 
 pray with the spirit, and with the under- 
 standing also. Though it lays hold with 
 a firmly grasping hand on the blessed 
 doctrine of the atonement, yet it is so 
 far from using this doctrine as a pretence 
 for neglecting virtuous practice, that it 
 draws from thence new motives, new 
 sanctions, new encouragements. It 
 teaches that without shedding of blood 
 there is no remission for sin, while it de- 
 clares that without repentance, and 
 without holiness, there is no salvation 
 for sinners. 
 
 The sound members of this church 
 acknowledge that there are mysteries in 
 our religion ; but the same reason which 
 employed its best energies in proving 
 the Divine authority of Scripture, has 
 convinced them that the secret things 
 which belong to God must be adored 
 now, and will be fully understood here- 
 after. The legitimate members of the 
 church, for she has, it is to be feared, 
 some spurious ones, are not surprised, 
 that in a revelation from heaven there
 
 138 ON NOVEL OPINIONS 
 
 should be mysteries; but they believe 
 that these sacred mysteries are meant as 
 exercises of faith to the probationers for 
 Heaven ; are meant to promote humility ; 
 which they consider, whatever others do, 
 as a grand fundamental in religion. They 
 do not pretend to know in what manner 
 the Holy Spirit operates on the human 
 heart, but they know that it does operate, 
 because it produces that change of heart 
 which they are not ashamed to call the 
 renewing by the Holy Ghost, and which 
 distinguishes the vital from the nominal 
 Christian. They leave to those who have 
 sufficient natural resources in their own 
 minds, if such there be, to reject assist- 
 ance which they fervently implore ; as- 
 sistance without which they, who think 
 they stand, may finally fall. 
 
 These humble dependants on Divine 
 grace come at length to attain, in addi- 
 tion to the external evidences of Christi- 
 anity, an internal evidence in their own 
 bosom, which, so far from giving them 
 any elation of heart, any eccentricity of
 
 IN RELIGION. 139 
 
 doctrine, any irregularity of conduct, pre- 
 serves them from each, while it affords 
 them " all joy and peace in believing." 
 
 But while we put in the fair claim of 
 our church to rational religion, we do 
 not make an exclusive pretension to this, 
 or any other excellence. Every human 
 institution bears on it some marks, greater 
 or less, that it is human, of course im- 
 perfect ; and it is sufficient to guard us 
 against the folly of such a pompous as- 
 sumption to know, that an erroneous 
 church not only assumes the appellation 
 of infallible itself, but gives it also to its 
 infirm, mutable, human head, to a being 
 certain of death, and liable to sin. 
 
 But if we do not claim soundness as 
 well as rationality, for our exclusive pos- 
 session, we are more likely to perpetuate 
 both, than the best societies of separatists. 
 All that is good in our church is likely 
 to be secured to it by the fence of an 
 establishment. An enclosure is not so 
 likely to be broken in upon from without, 
 as a society planted in the waste. We
 
 140 ON NOVEL OPINIONS 
 
 are likely, I say, to be secured from the 
 introduction of new dogmas, as well as 
 to be preserved in our long adopted prin- 
 ciples. The pale which encircles our 
 church, and the formularies which belong 
 to it, do not leave it open to the experi- 
 ments of new projectors, to the incursions 
 of fresh innovators. Above all, it is 
 enriched by a great mass of the Divine 
 treasures of Scripture ; the spirit of which 
 is also expanded in our collects and 
 prayers, so that, as we have observed in 
 another place, if the pulpit should in 
 any instance unhappily degenerate in 
 doctrine, the desk will still furnish a per- 
 petual antidote. It may indeed deserve 
 the name of the establishment not only as 
 being the national religion, but as being 
 built on the foundation of the everlasting 
 Gospel, on the doctrines taught by pro- 
 phets and evangelists, Jesus Christ him- 
 self being the chief corner-stone. 
 
 In another of the quarters alluded to, 
 the more novel system, we hear much of 
 opinions but little of practice ; much of
 
 IN RELIGION. 141 
 
 doctrines, but little of holiness ; much 
 of faith — a disproportioned and unpro- 
 ductive faith — but little of repentance. 
 These grand ingredients, which, when 
 severally coupled together, make up the 
 sum and substance of Christianity, — 
 these joint essentials, which St. Paul 
 preached invariably, and which by never 
 separating, he preached effectually, are 
 now considered as separate interests, and 
 severed from each other as having no ne- 
 cessary connection. 
 
 We are very far from the injustice of 
 accusing those who propagate doctrines 
 which are evidently unscriptural, of being 
 themselves unholy. In some of the 
 leading characters we fully believe the 
 contrary to be the case ; but the obvious 
 effect of such doctrines on those who 
 hear them, is not only to lessen their 
 value for practical preaching, but to lead 
 them to consider personal holiness a» 
 making no part of the things which ac- 
 company salvation. 
 
 Those who are at all acquainted with
 
 142 ON NOVEL OPINIONS 
 
 ecclesiastical history, must know that in 
 the most flourishing ages of the church, 
 even when Christianity was best under- 
 stood and most successfully practised, 
 errors of opinion most readily started up, 
 the ephemeral fungus of a luxuriant soil ; 
 they were frequently the suggestion of 
 fanciful and mistaken, rather than of 
 immoral men. Our great spiritual ad- 
 versary, who successfully employs the 
 vicious as the corrupters of morals, knows 
 it to be a stale and fruitless device to 
 make them his agents for misleading the 
 judgment and bewildering the imagina- 
 tion v and therefore, by a refinement of 
 ingenuity, prompts the more virtuous to 
 the accomplishment of spiritual mis- 
 chiefs. Moral men are his selected 
 instruments for broaching novel, enti- 
 cing, and dangerous opinions. These 
 moral but wayward persons seem to have 
 overlooked the fine supplication of the 
 Apostle, for his converts, that God 
 would " stablish, strengthen, settle 
 them." These terms, which indeed 
 5
 
 nr religion. 145 
 
 are not synonymes, but shades ; — these 
 terms, a noble climax, implying not 
 equality, but gradation, are now in- 
 verted. Every move in the new ma- 
 chine seems to shake, weaken, unsettle. 
 One pin in the old system is pulled 
 out after another, till the whole magni- 
 ficent fabric, if its security depended 
 upon them, would fall to the ground. 
 The patriarch Jacob has shown us, in 
 the character of his vacillating son 
 Reuben, how destructive instability is of 
 excellence. 
 
 We are assured that the changes in 
 these ever varying theories are so fre- 
 quent, that to confute them would be 
 as difficult as unnecessary; for that 
 which by some of the party is insisted 
 on in one week, gives way in the next 
 to some wider deviation ; so that he 
 who might wish to animadvert on some 
 existing evil must be as rapid as its in- 
 ventor, he must 
 
 " Catch ere she change the Cynthia of the minute."
 
 144 ON NOVEL OPINIONS 
 
 If in religious contemplation or dis- 
 cussion, we once give the reigns to fancy, 
 if we cherish every seducing thought, 
 merely because it is new, if we set up 
 for complete independence of opinion, 
 if we assume individual release from all 
 the ties that hold Christian society toge- 
 gether, if we permit ourselves to plunge 
 into the unfathomable ocean of discovery, 
 without compass or rudder, there is no 
 saying where we may land ; it may be on 
 the shore we now dread. Many of these 
 leaders differ in opinion, but each seems 
 to lay as exclusive a claim to truth as 
 the Pope himself; but as the latter was 
 equally infallible when there was one 
 Pope at Avignon and another at Rome, 
 so the infallibility here seems to be lodged 
 by each in himself, only with this varia- 
 tion, that these last begin by differing 
 from each other, till in their more ad- 
 vanced progress they come to differ from 
 themselves. 
 
 Is not the recent secession founded on 
 a kind of spiritual democracy, an over-
 
 JN RELIGION. "145 
 
 turning system ; an aversion to whatever 
 is established j a contempt of authority ; 
 an impatience of subordination, a thirst 
 for dictatorship j with this difference, 
 that these religious dissidents loose the, 
 reins of their self-government, instead of 
 those of their country. 
 
 We know to what a degree the love of 
 novelty, the longing to see any thing 
 they have not seen before, though the 
 object be ever so disgusting, is carried 
 by our countrymen. The poet who best 
 knew human nature, who best painted 
 the characters of Englishmen; said, " in 
 England any monster will make (be the 
 making of) a man." This is so true, 
 that a dwarf, a giant, an unnatural birth 
 in an animal, will afford delight; the 
 greater the distortion the higher the 
 pleasure. We have seen to what excess 
 this passion for what is novel and mon- 
 strous may be carried, in the instance of 
 a late preposterous prophetess, a creature 
 born and bred among the dregs of the 
 people, with nothing to recommend her 
 
 H
 
 146 ON NOVEL OPINIONS 
 
 but ignorance, presumption, extravagance, 
 and blasphemy ; yet did this woman not 
 only make numberless proselytes among 
 her vulgar equals, but obtained advo- 
 cates among those from whom better 
 things might have been expected. But 
 it is the very absurdity which is the at- 
 traction. Such preposterous pretences 
 being obviously out of the power of 
 human means to accomplish, the extra- 
 vagance is believed to be supernatural. 
 It is the impossibility which makes the 
 assumed certainty. The epilepsy of 
 Mahomet confirmed his claims to in- 
 spiration. 
 
 Extravagance in religion is a kind of 
 spiritual empiricism, which is sure for a 
 time to lay hold on the vulgar. The ig- 
 norant patient in both cases, who fre- 
 quently pays little attention to the esta- 
 blished physician, is sure to be attracted 
 by any new nostrum from the laboratory 
 of the irregular prescriber : he is resorted 
 to with more confidence in proportion to 
 the reputed violence of his catholicon ; 
 6
 
 IN RELIGION. 147 
 
 and he who despised the sober practi- 
 tioner, swallows without scruple the 
 most pernicious drug of the advertising 
 professor. 
 
 Without the slightest desire to detract 
 from the personal character of our new 
 empirics in divinity, we may be allowed 
 to suspect that their education, and 
 early habits of life, had not altogether 
 qualified them for the arduous under- 
 taking of new modelling a church. It 
 is true that " the erudition of a (com- 
 mon) Christian man'* is not required to 
 be very profound, but surely that of a 
 Christian reformer should be something 
 more than moderate. 
 
 The lapse of three centuries has added 
 little clearness to the lucid exposition of 
 Christian truth as exhibited in the 
 writings of those reformers by whom the 
 doctrines of the Church of England were 
 modelled. Whatever defects might have 
 escaped the notice of those eagle-eyed 
 sifters and examiners of Christian truth, 
 when they rescued it from the rubbish 
 h 2
 
 148 ON NOVEL OPINIONS 
 
 under which it lay almost buried, would 
 not these defects have been detected, 
 pointed out, rectified, by the penetrating 
 mind of Bishop Jewel in his renowned 
 challenge at Paul's Cross, or in his cele- 
 brated Apology for the church of Eng- 
 land? Would they not have been 
 expunged or purified by the judicious 
 Hooker, that bulwark of the establish- 
 ment, in his immortal writings on eccle- 
 siastical polity, and on justification? 
 Would they have eluded the observation 
 and correction of Archbishop Usher, that 
 prodigy of erudition ? 
 
 We need not be again told the well- 
 known fact, that there may be abundant 
 learning where there is little enlightened 
 piety, but in these glorious champions 
 of the faith of Christ, and of the Pro- 
 testant church, learning was only a 
 secondary excellence. Various and pro- 
 found as were their acquirements, they 
 were conscientiously devoted to the pur- 
 pose of advancing and confirming the 
 scarcely established church. Can we
 
 IN RELIGION. H9 
 
 believe that Ridley, Hooper, Cranmer, 
 and a long list of such distinguished 
 men, would have made the sacrifices 
 they actually made, without scrupu- 
 lously examining into the momentous 
 truths they professed to believe - 9 that 
 they would have suffered the most cruel 
 tortures, rather than renounce the doc- 
 trines of a church to which they were 
 first ornaments and then martyrs?-*- 
 " There were giants in those days :" but 
 to say no more of them, nor of the suc- 
 cession of profound divines and eminent 
 scholars who succeeded them, " men of 
 stature also" — would it not be casting 
 a severe reflection on these bright lu- 
 minaries of our country and church, to 
 believe that the great truths of the gos- 
 pel, which were hid from these skilful 
 and acute indagators, were reserved to 
 be brought to light by half a dozen per- 
 sons in the nineteenth century ; that to 
 men, most of them bred to secular pur- 
 suits, and living antecedently in secular 
 habits, should be reserved- the honour of 
 h 3
 
 16& ON NOVEL OPINIONS 
 
 detecting, not trifling faults, not imper- 
 fections, from which perhaps no human 
 institution is exempt, but radical errors, 
 but fundamental mischiefs, affecting the 
 very vitals of our religion ? If these 
 evils really exist, if they indeed escaped 
 the penetration, eluded the vigilance, 
 and mocked the wisdom of those mighty 
 champions, then to say those holy men 
 were blameable, is saying little : they 
 were indeed ideots, voluntarily to suffer 
 a violent death, rather than renounce a 
 church too erroneous for the new re- 
 formers, not only in which to preach, 
 but in which to remain. 
 
 The penetrating genius of Luther 
 seems not only to have exposed all ex- 
 isting, but to have anticipated all future 
 heresies, especially when he inveighs 
 against that which declared that " The 
 Ten Commmidments ought to be taken out 
 of the Church !" 
 
 This Coryphceus of the doctrine of 
 faith, in contradiction to the new sys- 
 tem, says : " Faith is by no means an
 
 IN RELIGION. 151 
 
 ineffective quality, but possesses so great 
 excellency, that it utterly confounds and 
 destroys all the foolish dreams and ima- 
 ginations of sophisters ; but if works only 
 are taught, faith is lost." " But if no- 
 thing but faith is inculcated, carnal men 
 begin to dream that there is no need of 
 good works." Again: "If, indeed, 
 faith saves us without works, let us have 
 no anxiety about good actions ; let us 
 only take care and believe, and we may do 
 what we please. It is true," adds he, 
 " that Paul tells you that faith without 
 works justifies ; however he also tells you, 
 that a true faith after it has justified, 
 does not permit a man to slumber in ig- 
 norance, but that it worketh by love." 
 Again : " You now see, that though it 
 is faith alone which justifies, yet that 
 faith alone is not sufficient." 
 
 There is not a single doctrine of the 
 
 New Testament which does not involve 
 
 practical consequences. The necessity 
 
 of holiness, now unhappily not insisted 
 
 h 4?
 
 352 ON NOVEL OPINIONS 
 
 on, is more exalted by the death of 
 Christ than by all other means that ever 
 were devised. God's hatred of sin is 
 more forcibly expressed by the sacrifice 
 of his Son, than it could have been by 
 any other method, although we do not 
 presume to set limits to infinite power. 
 Yet this most glorious doctrine, this 
 cleanser from all sin, may be converted 
 by the manner in which it is adminis- 
 tered into an open door to that licen- 
 tiousness which it is its special design, 
 its obvious tendency, and, when truly 
 received on scripture grounds, its natural 
 consequence, to cure. 
 
 But if men come to the perusal of the 
 Bible with certain prepossessions of their 
 own, instead of a simple and sincere 
 desire after Divine truth ; i£ instead of 
 getting their obliquities rectified by try- 
 ing them by this straight line, they 
 venture to bend the straight line till it 
 fits their own crooked opinions ; if they 
 are determined to make between them 
 a conformity which they do not Jind s
 
 IN RELIGION. 153" 
 
 they are not far from concluding that 
 they have found it. By such means a 
 very little knowledge, and a great deal 
 of presumption, has been the ground- 
 work of many a novel and pernicious 
 system. 
 
 Systems, indeed, there will be as 
 many as they are novel and pernicious ; 
 for though men are as tenacious of error, 
 for a time, as if their convictions were 
 as strong as they could be if it were 
 truth, yet the persuasion of error is not 
 likely to be so lasting. As no error can 
 be so irresistible as a known truth, it 
 cannot long carry the same weight with 
 it. He who adopted it, at length find- 
 ing it not to go, as we say, on all fours, 
 is more likely to plunge into a succession 
 of errors, each deeper than the other, 
 than to return to the truth which he 
 has abandoned. Whether the pride of 
 not going back, or the hope that, in his 
 wider wanderings, he may extricate him- 
 self, it is hard to say ; for error is as 
 endless as truth is powerful. Some 
 h 5
 
 154 
 
 ON NOVEL OPINIONS 
 
 minds are so constituted, that it is easier 
 to them to produce objections to truth, 
 than to embrace it j they therefore resist 
 truth, when they might resist the ob- 
 stacles which prevent their receiving it. 
 Our adoption of error as naturally pro- 
 ceeds from our abuse of reason, as our 
 adoption of truth from the right use of 
 it. The question, to a plain Christian, 
 seems to be settled by this declaration 
 of our Lord : " He that doeth His will 
 shall know of the doctrine, whether it be 
 Of God." 
 
 As, in many of those to whom we 
 have been alluding, their aberrations 
 seem to have been occasioned rather by 
 the vagrancy of the imagination, than 
 the corruption of the heart, we are not 
 without hope that they may yet retrace 
 their steps ; that the way they have lost 
 may be recovered ; that their involution 
 in this labyrinth may not be past extri- 
 cation ; that Divine grace may furnish 
 a clue to lead them back to the plain, 
 Obvious, intelligible meaning of the un-
 
 IN RELIGION. 155 
 
 sophisticated word of God. That this 
 may be the case, is the cordial wish and 
 prayer of many who loved and respected 
 them before they were unhappily led 
 astray, by erratic fancies, into these se- 
 ducing theories. 
 
 There is no method which the subtle 
 adversary of mankind has not devised to 
 injure religion. When the church is at 
 a low ebb, when she is sunk in forms 
 and outward observances j when zeal is 
 asleep, and all seems safe because all is 
 still, he sometimes rouses her, but it is 
 to wrong purposes : it is not to advance 
 the interests of Christianity, but to bend 
 his force against some symptoms of its 
 returning spirit, which begin to break 
 out f% these symptoms of incipient zeal 
 he -calls enthusiasm, though an evil 
 which, perhaps, in that stage of the 
 church, does not exist j he, however, 
 strives to prevent the existence not of 
 enthusiasm but of zeal, that the frigid 
 may enjoy their doze, and not be re- 
 proached by the threatened exertions in 
 h 6
 
 156 ON NOVEL OPINIONS 
 
 the quarter which is beginning to open 
 its eyes. 
 
 At another period when the church is 
 beginning to be triumphant, he sends 
 out his favourite engine persecution, 
 with his faggot and his axe, burning 
 where he could not refute, and subduing 
 by force what he could not silence by 
 argument. 
 
 He is now pursuing a different course. 
 The same malignant spirit which once 
 laboured to drive men from Christianity 
 by martyrdom, now draws them from it 
 by sophistry. He now deteriorates truth 
 instead of persecuting it •, and as the 
 process is less revolting, it succeeds bet- 
 ter. Men are no longer terrified into 
 error, but coaxed into it. They ar~ not 
 frightened, but wheedled out of their 
 belief. Their understandings become so 
 bewildered, that they are persuaded 
 that every new advance in heresy is a 
 fresh step towards truth. Advantage is 
 made even of their prejudices, which 
 become more deeply rooted by the very 
 14
 
 IN RELIGION. 157 
 
 change which they are made to believe 
 is to extirpate them. New converts, 
 who once valued themselves on their in- 
 credulity, have become credulous to 
 excess j and those who were previously 
 indifferent to sober religion, are led to 
 swallow the wildest perversions of Chris- 
 tianity, to adopt opinions which she as 
 heartily rejects as she did their former, 
 unbelief. 
 
 Some subjects are placed out of the 
 reach of the human mind. Presumptu- 
 ous spirits lose themselves by attempting 
 to pierce through forbidden bounds j by 
 endeavouring to explain things beyond 
 the limits of created comprehension* 
 they subvert the truth they pretend to 
 serve, they involve themselves in the 
 very difficulties they undertake to clear. 
 The humble Christian, like the seraphim, 
 «• covers his face" before the infinite 
 Majesty of Heaven, and exclaims, " O 
 the depths of the riches both of the 
 wisdom and knowledge of God 1" —
 
 158 ON NOVEL OPINIONS 
 
 " Verily Thou art a God that hides! 
 Thyself." 
 
 We are not called upon to unravel in- 
 tricacies, but to hold fast the form of 
 sound words. While to the ill-informed 
 these new teachers appear profound be- 
 cause they are unintelligible, they re- 
 mind those of better judgment of certain 
 animals, who, burrowing in shallow 
 ground, just beneath the surface of the 
 earth, fancy they are deep only because 
 they are dark. 
 
 Many a metaphysical reformer, by the 
 manner of conducting his system, so ex- 
 poses and defeats his own cause, as to 
 resemble in fate, though we say not with 
 any similarity of intention, the Neapo- 
 litan atheist Vanini, who, with eleven 
 others of the same class (we presume the 
 number to be a match for the twelve 
 apostles) endeavoured to establish a re- 
 gular college of infidelity. The object 
 was nearly the same with that of the late 
 atheistical school in France ; and by 
 having the priority of two centuries, they
 
 IN RELIGION. 159 
 
 robbed that recent rabble of the merito- 
 rious claim to original wickedness. 
 
 Vanini's object was to exterminate the 
 very idea of a God, and for this he 
 adopted a most singular method. He 
 undertook to prove there was no God by 
 stating the general idea of God. He 
 strangely fancied that to define the idea 
 was to destroy it ; and that to pretend 
 to say what God is, was the surest way 
 to disprove his existence ! His definition 
 is so artfully made out, and part of it is 
 so ingeniously written, that while he 
 thought he was drawing only the crea- 
 ture of his imagination, it appears as if 
 he were enthroning rather than deposing 
 his Creator. A marvellous delusion to 
 argue against the being of God from the 
 very magnitude of his perfections ! Let 
 the delirious metaphysics of modern 
 times alone, and we had almost said they 
 will also argue themselves into the abyss 
 of forgetful ness. * 
 
 * For a fuller account of this metaphysical atheist, 
 see Mr. Sauria's sermon on " The deep things of 
 God."
 
 1 60 ON NOVEL OPINIONS 
 
 We want more simplicity in the exer- 
 cise of our religion ; we want to be re- 
 formed by it, and not to reform it ; we 
 have need to be sent back to our first 
 rudiments. We should imitate the plain- 
 ness and uncomplicated method of the 
 New Testament, where the doctrines are 
 few, but of importance inestimable, in- 
 finite, eternal ! We should examine the 
 grounds of our faith by this unerring 
 guide, and not by the pullulations of 
 our own visionary fancies. We want to 
 be sent back to elementary principles. 
 We need not even think it beneath our 
 wisdom to be directed by that familiar 
 summary, the Apostles Creed. It were 
 well if we fixed our own faith by the 
 articles comprised in, and enclosed by, 
 that safe compendium, instead of turning 
 it over to our children as if we were got 
 above its beggarly elements. Even the 
 way-faring man cannot stray while he is 
 contented to keep close within this 
 hedge.
 
 IN RELIGION. 161 
 
 Many do not virtually adopt its first 
 simple declaration, " I believe in God $" 
 for to believe in God on the Christian 
 scheme, is not merely to believe in a 
 first cause, is not merely to believe in 
 His existence, we must also believe in 
 His attributes, His promises, His threat- 
 enings, His Son, His word, His Spirit ; 
 to believe in those attributes especially 
 which harmoniously meet in the glorious 
 union of truth and mercy, the blessed 
 combination of righteousness and peace 
 in the person of his Divine Son ; those 
 promises which are eternal life to as many 
 as keep his commandments ; those 
 threatenings which say to the ungodly, 
 " Depart from me I never knew you ;" 
 that holiness without which no man shall 
 ever see his face. 
 
 A bad principle is of much more ex- 
 tensive mischief than a bad example ; 
 the latter it is true, like a conflagration, 
 has a tendency to destroy whatever comes 
 within its reach ; but a pernicious prin- 
 ciple, like the variolous matter, may be
 
 162 ON NOVEL OPINIONS 
 
 conveyed to any distance, and infect the 
 patient, though he had never come in 
 contact with him from whose eruption it 
 was taken. " It is time for thee, Lord, 
 to lay to thine hand, for they have de- 
 stroyed thy law !" 
 
 But it is not the entertaining a dan- 
 gerous opinion, it is this rage for prose- 
 lyting to new opinions, which constitutes 
 the most malignant part of the mischief; 
 an erroneous doctrine not propagated, 
 hurts none but him who holds it ; but by 
 propagating it to unsettle the minds of 
 multitudes, to deteriorate the Gospel, 
 and to disturb the peace and unity of the 
 church, is surely no light evil, especially 
 in a country like ours, proverbial for its 
 credulity and love of novelty ; and in a 
 church like ours, which has been re- 
 formed, sifted, and purified, beyond the 
 example of any other in the Christian 
 world. 
 
 The everlasting edifice of the Gospel 
 is founded on a rock, whose stability 
 neither storms can shake, nor waves un-
 
 IN RELIGION. 163 
 
 dermine. Nor can any contrivances of 
 man improve the beauty of its super- 
 structure. Its depths cannot be fathomed 
 by our short line, nor its height fully 
 apprehended by our short sight ! Christi- 
 anity then is no appropriate field for the 
 perplexities of metaphysics, nor the in- 
 dustry of new discoveries. This brief 
 title of the Bible — The Word of God 
 — excludes the censure of all cavillers, 
 annihilates the emendations of all critics 1 
 It is with unfeigned sorrow the writer 
 has witnessed the rise and progress of the 
 new community. If she knows any 
 thing of her own heart, the preceding 
 remarks have not been dictated by a 
 censorious spirit. But it may be said, 
 she was not called upon for any such 
 impertinent animadversions. The pro- 
 bability of such a reproof makes her feel 
 herself obliged to account for the liberty 
 she has taken. 
 
 Those who have condescended to look 
 into her former writings, need not be 
 reminded, that she has through life, in
 
 164- ON NOVEL OPINIONS 
 
 a considerable degree, though not ex- 
 clusively, devoted her humble talents to 
 the service of her own sex; and has 
 conscientiously, though feebly, laboured 
 to be useful to their best interests in 
 every way she could devise. She has 
 endeavoured to strengthen them in the 
 pursuit of what was right, and they have 
 had the goodness to bear with her when 
 she has reminded them of any aberra- 
 tions from that pursuit. 
 
 Though the deep interest she has 
 taken in their credit and their welfare 
 has by no means invested her with a 
 right of interference on the present pain- 
 ful occasion, yet it would not have been 
 consistent with her antecedent practice, 
 to overlook a circumstance in which they 
 are so deeply involved. 
 
 It has excited the most lively feelings 
 of regret in many minds, to hear, in a 
 recent instance, of the departure of some 
 ladies of consideration, from that reserve 
 and delicacy so peculiarly the charac- 
 teristics of their sex, and so naturally
 
 IN RELIGION. 165 
 
 appendant to their own respectable 
 characters and situation in life. They 
 appear not only to have entered very 
 warmly into all the tenets of the seced- 
 ing school, but to labour very assiduously 
 for their propagation. They are, it 
 seems, not only followers, but joint 
 leaders in the several departments of 
 the government of the seceding party. 
 
 Tenderness of heart, warmth of feel- 
 ing, and liveliness of imagination, form 
 a most interesting part in the composi- 
 tion of an amiable woman ; but the 
 qualities which adorn, are also the qua- 
 lities which mislead. The very attrac- 
 tions which cause them to please, may 
 become snares. If not carefully directed, 
 they give a wrong bias to the character, 
 and a dangerous tendency to the con- 
 duct. They lead their possessor more 
 widely astray than is commonly the case 
 with those who are destitute of these 
 pleasing powers. 
 
 That providential economy which has 
 clearly determined that women were
 
 166 ON NOVEL OPINIONS 
 
 born to share with men the duties of 
 private life, has as clearly demonstrated, 
 that they were not born to divide with 
 them in its public administration. If, 
 then, they were not intended to com- 
 mand armies in war, nor to direct 
 cabinets in peace, to legislate in the 
 senate, or debate at the bar, — doubtless 
 they were not intended to be public 
 teachers of religion, to be makers of 
 canons for a new church, nor to invent 
 dogmas to controvert an old one ; nor 
 to be professors of proselytism, nor 
 wrangling polemics, nor conductors of 
 controversy, nor settlers of disputes — 
 disputes which will continue to be agi- 
 tated as long as men have hot heads 
 and proud hearts ; as long as they pos- 
 sess vanity or curiosity, impatience of 
 restraint, or a love of opposition ; a 
 weariness of sober truths, and a thirst 
 after the fame to be acquired by their 
 subversion. 
 
 Why will women of sense, then, de- 
 feat their providential destination ? why
 
 IN RELIGION. 167 
 
 desert their proper sphere, in which they 
 were intended to benefit, to please, even 
 to shine, at least as stars of the second 
 magnitude? Why fly from their pre* 
 scribed orbit ? Why roam in useless and 
 eccentric wandering, . 
 
 " And, comet-like, rush lawless through the void,'' 
 
 and then having for a season astonished 
 with their false and momentary blaze, 
 fall disregarded and forgotten ? 
 
 These well-meaning ladies would be 
 among the last to use their allotted 
 measure of grace and accomplishment, 
 to any purpose which they believed to 
 be improper ; yet they v require to be 
 told, that neither should their talents be 
 exerted to the purposes of spiritual se- 
 duction ; that they should not be em- 
 ployed to disturb the faith, to shake 
 by dispute, or weaken by persuasion, the 
 steadiness of persons who, without their 
 endowments, are perhaps in a safer state. 
 
 But though the writer cannot hope 
 that these observations will produce any
 
 168 ON NOVEL OPINIONS IN RELIGION. 
 
 effect on those who are already era- 
 barked on this sea, without a shore, 
 and without a bottom — happy would 
 she be, if they might become the means 
 of preserving one inexperienced female 
 from the perils to which novelty, curi- 
 osity, and pressing invitation, too easily 
 allure. The sure preservatives from 
 this danger are to cultivate deep hu- 
 j mility and self-distrust, to keep clear 
 of the very threshold of innovation, to 
 avoid the first step j for all the subse- 
 quent ones are easy. Let her bear in 
 mind, that, once seduced, she may find, 
 that " when she would inherit the bless- 
 ing, she may be rejected, and find no 
 place of repentance, though she may 
 seek it carefully with tears."
 
 169 
 
 ILL EFFECTS OF THE LATE 
 SECESSION. 
 
 Among the evils to which the late 
 secession has contributed, those we are 
 about to mention are of no light nature. 
 It has been the means of exciting a sort 
 of spiritual vanity, of awakening a desire 
 of departing from received opinions, in 
 certain young persons, who may be de- 
 signated by the name of premature 
 instructors. It has increased the alien- 
 ation of the lower orders from the 
 church ; it has afforded to some who are 
 not favourable to serious piety, a pre- 
 tence for indiscriminately classing toge- 
 ther men of different views, characters, 
 and principles. Among the more re- 
 spectable, it has stirred up a spirit of de-
 
 170 ILL EFFECTS OF 
 
 bate and controversy, by no means 
 friendly to the cause of genuine Christi- 
 anity. We shall notice these effects in 
 their order. 
 
 There is scarcely a greater mistake in 
 morals, than is committed by those who 
 habitually speak of vanity as a trifling 
 fault, as a small pass not worth guard- 
 ing. There is perhaps scarcely an error 
 which is so generally adopted, and so 
 carelessly overlooked. It finds its way 
 into characters of every species, and al- 
 most into every individual of the species. 
 There is not only the vanity of beauty, 
 of rank, of riches, of learning, of talents, 
 but, as we have already observed, the 
 vanity of religion. 
 
 A bold familiarity with Scripture, an 
 unhallowed touching of the sacred ark, 
 not as formerly by sceptics and scoffers 
 only, but by persons professing, and we 
 believe intending, to be religious, are, it 
 is to be feared, becoming too common. 
 This, like many other of our offences, 
 has its foundation in vanity. It is ob-
 
 THE LATE SECESSION. 171 
 
 vious that an unwillingness to be taught, 
 and an impatience to teach, marks the 
 character of the present day. 
 
 There is a scion from this presumptu- 
 ous stock, which perhaps has not had 
 sufficient time to grow, in order to be- 
 come generally known, but which is 
 beginning to sprout up in certain pro- 
 vincial towns and villages. There is a 
 growing disposition in a few arrogant 
 young men to read the Bible with their 
 own glosses and interpretations, and to 
 aim at proselyting, and " taking captive" 
 not only " silly women" but silly girls. 
 Several of these persons, as soon as they 
 began to open their eyes on the import- 
 ance of religion, or rather before they 
 were broad awake to its truths, have un- 
 dertaken this gratuitous tuition. Instead 
 of taking time to promote their own 
 advancement, instead of learning wisdom 
 by an increasing discovery of their own 
 ignorance ; instead of improving in 
 Christian knowledge by the only le- 
 gitimate methods, diligent study of the 
 I °2
 
 172 ILL EFFECTS OF 
 
 le with the aid of the soundest com- 
 mentators, both accompanied with fer- 
 vent prayer for that light they profess 
 to seek; — without consulting able mi- 
 nisters — without taking this straight and 
 obvious road, — on their own very slen- 
 der stock they set up for teachers them- 
 selves. Instead of looking to the ex- 
 perienced and the wise, they collect a 
 little group to look up to them, thus 
 inverting the Apostle's observation—- 
 for they " when for the time they seek 
 to be teachers, have need to be taught 
 themselves, which be the first principles 
 of the oracles of God." If this spiritual 
 vanity should flourish, we shall soon have 
 none left to learn ; all will be teachers. 
 
 Thus the raw and rash Christian, con- 
 fidently jumps over all the intermediate 
 steps between the enquirer and the in- 
 structor, and despising the old gradual 
 approach to the sacred temple, despising 
 the study of books, of men, and of him- 
 self, starts up at once a full-grown di- 
 vine j — the novice seizes the professor's
 
 THE LATE SECESSION. 173 
 
 chair, erects himself into a scholar with* 
 out literature, and a theologian without 
 theology. On the strength of a few 
 texts ill understood, and worse applied, 
 he undertakes to give his young neigh- 
 bours new views of the Bible, and with- 
 out eyes himself, sets up for a guide of 
 the blind. 
 
 These young persons in reading the 
 Scriptures seem to be setting out on a 
 voyage of discovery of something new, 
 rather than on a course of observation 
 on what their precursors have done for 
 them. They search, not with devout 
 enquiry, but fearless curiosity ; they look 
 out for passages written in a different 
 connection, and applied to different pur- 
 poses, and then try to prove that they 
 produce not consecutive reasoning, that 
 they do not establish the generally re- 
 ceived doctrines. How should they? 
 They were never intended to produce 
 the one, or to establish the other. They 
 bring together propositions which have 
 no relation, and which require different 
 i 3
 
 174 ILL EFFECTS OF 
 
 proofs, and then triumph in the supposed 
 opposition of what was never intended to 
 agree. 
 
 Thus fools rush in where angels fear to tread , 
 
 Suffer a few friendly hints. Though 
 Holy Scripture was given to be searched, 
 it was not given to be criticised. It was 
 " written for our learning," not for our 
 cavilling : it was given not to be pertly 
 scrutinized, but to be " inwardly di- 
 gested ; " not to make us wise in our 
 own conceits, but " to make us wise un- 
 to salvation.'' It is not to be endured 
 to hear questions, on which hang all our 
 hopes and our fears, speculated upon as 
 if they were a question of physics or his- 
 tory, and explained till they become con- 
 tradictions. 
 
 Men taught of God, and possessing 
 those depths of erudition which qualified 
 them to teach others, depend upon it, 
 have left nothing for your discovery ex- 
 cept the discovery of your own insuffi- 
 ciency. If there are obscurities, they
 
 THE LATE SECESSION. 17<5 
 
 will not be cleared by such shallow ex- 
 positors. The sun of righteousness will 
 not be made to shine brighter by the 
 glimmering of your farthing candle. 
 
 Boldness in religion, we repeat, is one 
 of the great evils of the present day. 
 The more we cavil the less we shall obey. 
 We may explain truths till we come to 
 deny them. We may be so involved in 
 intricacies of our own weaving, that we 
 may end by opposing the doctrine we 
 undertook to clear. Oh ! there is no 
 security like a humble mind 5 a mind 
 always distrusting its own wisdom, and 
 always confiding in the wisdom of God. 
 
 Why, then, will not the premature 
 instructor wait till he is himself in- 
 structed? Why not look up for inform- 
 ation on difficult and disputed points to 
 wiser and older heads ? Why not in 
 their little parties turn their attention to 
 practical points, rather than to speculative 
 niceties ? Why not cultivate that self- 
 inspection and heart-humbling prayer 
 which would cure those conceits that lead 
 1 4
 
 176 ILL EFFECTS OF 
 
 to a critical, and often end in a scepticaj 
 spirit : such habits would best preserve 
 them from that inflation of heart which 
 arises from the vanity of some supposed 
 new discovery, in a religion which was 
 given us by the Spirit of God. 
 
 The Scripture no where teaches us to 
 indulge this audacious curiosity ; it stirs 
 up no eagerness for pushing speculation 
 beyond its legitimate bounds. It fur- 
 nishes no invitation for ranging beyond 
 the limited sphere allotted to our imper- 
 fect human condition. Its incitements 
 are not irritations but encouragements, 
 The Bible wisely represses all that spi- 
 ritual vanity which would dive into 
 unprofitable, because impenetrable mys- 
 teries. It teaches us all that is necessary 
 for us to learn, and there it stops. It 
 teaches what is of prime importance for 
 us to know, — that we are fallen crea- 
 tures. It shows what we ought to 
 believe in order to our being rescued from 
 this state of apostacy* It instructs us in 
 all that is necessary for us to do to be
 
 THE LATE SECESSION. 177 
 
 restored to the favour of God, which by 
 sin we had forfeited. It is enough that 
 it lays open the disease, presents the re- 
 medy, and offers God's Holy Spirit to 
 render it effectual. In short, it reveals 
 all that as probationary beings we should 
 desire to know, and of all we know it 
 expects us to make a practical use. 
 
 The present is, especially among the 
 lower ranks, an age of rebuke and blas- 
 phemy ; and what is so likely to augment 
 the popular hostility to Christianity, and 
 neglect of the established church, which 
 is founded upon it, as when they see 
 /some of its ministers reprobating at one 
 time, the church which they warmly 
 defended at another ? — when they see 
 them actually renouncing it as un- 
 christian, and setting up a new system 
 in opposition to it ? Where, then, is 
 truth to ' be found, may not even the 
 more sober amongst the people say, if 
 it is not found in that church, in defence 
 of which so many of her divines, so 
 many of her bishops, were led to the 
 i 5
 
 178 - ILL EFFECTS OF 
 
 scaffold and the stake? Will not the 
 loose and careless be likely to be con- 
 firmed in impiety, when they see these 
 men, who were fostered in her bosom, 
 who had subscribed to their belief in 
 her articles, who had been warm beyond 
 their fellows in the admiration of her 
 liturgy, her doctrines, and her discipline, 
 ■ — when they see these men not only 
 desert her altars, but take up arms 
 against her ; when they behold a per- 
 petual conflict between Christian mi- 
 nisters ? — for a church that is attacked 
 must be defended — will they not think 
 that an establishment which is so fre- 
 quently assailed, which requires such 
 continual vindication, from which there 
 are so many recent deserters, must needs 
 be an erroneous and unsound church, 
 and even the Scriptures on which it is 
 founded, uncertain, if not false ? 
 
 What is so likely as this defection 
 to give confidence without the least in- 
 tention of doing so, to that spirit of 
 infidelity which used to skulk in corners,
 
 THE LATE SECESSION. 179 
 
 and stab from behind a mask, but now 
 avows itself boldly, bares its unblushing 
 front to public gaze, spurns at law as well 
 as decency, openly defies government, 
 whom it used to fear, as well as God, 
 whom it never feared ? 
 
 Was it not enough that these low, 
 designing demagogues — men who think 
 one religion as good as another, and no 
 religion best of all, — was it not enough 
 that these open violators of order, truth, 
 and justice, should, as the most probable 
 means to accomplish their political mis- 
 chiefs, endeavour to overturn the church, 
 by bringing her creeds, and her other 
 holy services, into contempt ; insulting, 
 by their profane parodies, all that is 
 grave, and rendering ridiculous all that 
 is good ? Yet, from such men, such 
 attempts excite our regret and astonish- 
 ment less than those we have been con- 
 templating. How grievous is it, when 
 persons of a totally different description 
 are, perhaps undesignedly, contributing 
 to help on the work which, we are per- 
 i 6
 
 ISO IIX EFFECTS OF 
 
 suaded, they abhor I — when decorous 
 and religious men, though by other de- 
 vices, and with other weapons, may be 
 contributing to accomplish the work of 
 these vulgar politicians, and assisting, 
 in no inconsiderable degree, to discredit 
 the church which the others are labour- 
 ing to subvert ! 
 
 Nay; in one respect the better men 
 are doing the worse deed ; for the fac- 
 tious assailants of the church injure those 
 alone who were injured before ; for, by 
 the grossness of their attacks, they 
 shock all who are not totally given up 
 to impiety ; while, in the present in- 
 stance, those more decent characters are 
 more likely to be led astray, who have 
 shown some disposition to be serious ; 
 and are, therefore, in more danger of 
 being misled by the specious subtleties, 
 and the assumed tone of confident se- 
 curity, of these religious dogmatists. 
 
 The inexperienced and the wavering 
 — those who are unconfirmed in their 
 principles, together with others who
 
 THE LATE SECESSION. 181 
 
 have their religion to seek, and who 
 like to have one pointed out to them 
 which will not disturb their repose by 
 the severity of its practical injunctions, 
 nor the self-denying spirit of its tend- 
 encies, — are likely to be led astray by 
 these false lights; while the sober and 
 self-distrusting Christian will only be 
 driven, by these alarming novelties, to 
 adhere more closely to the humbling 
 and consistent doctrines of the New 
 Testament, — will, with deeper pros- 
 tration of heart, implore the aid of the 
 Holy Spirit, not only to lead him into 
 all truth, but to keep him in it. Such 
 a one will find that it does not require 
 profound knowledge, or deep learning, 
 to perceive the awful dangers of the 
 presumptuous innovations which lead to 
 these perilous subtleties — which ter- 
 minate in these bold conclusions. He 
 will see that common sense, an humble 
 mind, and a competent acquaintance 
 with Scripture, are all that is wanting 
 to discover that the Bible, and the
 
 182 ILL EFFECTS OF 
 
 novelties of the seceding community, 
 cannot both be right. 
 
 But the evil does not end here ; for 
 some of the adversaries of serious piety 
 are, it is to be feared, disposed to take 
 a most unfair advantage of this seces- 
 sion ; and the very circumstance of that 
 separation which ought to have rescued 
 men who firmly adhere to the church, 
 and to the principles on which it is 
 founded, from suspicion, increases it 
 and causes them to be involved in one 
 common charge of extravagance and 
 error, with men whose opinions they 
 abhor : whereas, when the vessel is 
 assailed by an unexpected storm, in- 
 stead of throwing themselves out to sea 
 in quest of imaginary safety, the tempest 
 only makes the experienced Christian 
 mariner cling the closer to his hold. 
 Men of more than ordinary zeal and 
 activity, then, should not be suspected 
 of disaffection, unless they afford other, 
 and more substantial reasons, for doubt- 
 ing their want of orthodoxy. Does it
 
 • THE LATE SECESSION. 183 
 
 not look as if there were no soundness 
 but in apathy, no security but in in- 
 ertness ? 
 
 One of the great evils of the times 
 is rash judgment, indiscriminate attack, 
 and a zeal for. censure without examin- 
 ation ; a not separating men who are 
 materially dissimilar, but lumping them 
 into one common reprobated mass, or, 
 at best, speaking as if the difference 
 were so little, that it was not worth the 
 pains to separate them. 
 
 Perhaps there are no church com- 
 munities in the world, that do not hold 
 some doctrines in common. We are 
 identified in some important points with 
 the Church of Rome ; but that does 
 not blind us to its errors, nor does it 
 prevent our keeping clear of them. 
 There are both rational and orthodox 
 communities in our own country ; but 
 our holding some opinions in common 
 with them, neither makes us adopt those 
 opinions which we disapprove, nor con- 
 demn those who profess them, as if they
 
 184 ILL EFFECTS OF 
 
 held none that were right. Why, then, 
 should not the case be the same in our 
 own church? 
 
 / This lumping system is not a little 
 hard on the steady and orderly divine. 
 It weakens the hands of the faithful 
 pastor, when his auditors, who have just 
 been hearing him speak the words of 
 truth and soberness, find him, perhaps, 
 in the next controversial pamphlet they 
 take up, coupled with the half insane, 
 an$ the wholly absurd. It is hard that 
 the zealous Christian, who is at the same 
 time a pattern of propriety and correct 
 demeanor, should be dragged in to 
 make common cause with those at whose 
 principles he shudders. Yet these men 
 of opposite characters, principles, and 
 pursuits, are forced into contact, are 
 together plunged into the crucible of 
 undistinguishing prejudice, and melted 
 down together; all distinctions so lost 
 in the fusion, the sober Christian so 
 mixed with the fanatic, the temperate 
 with the fiery, the regular with the
 
 THE LATE SECESSION. 185 
 
 eccentric, that they come out of the 
 furnace blended into one common mass, 
 and are reproduced as if formed of one 
 common material. 
 
 Ours is also pre-eminently an age of 
 controversy. Is not charity sometimes 
 recommended with uneharitableness, and 
 religion vindicated irreligiously? But 
 are there not a thousand other subjects 
 better calculated for its legitimate exer- 
 cise ? " Let the potsherds strive with 
 the potsherds of the earth," on all other 
 topics; but here, though one dash the 
 other in pieces, he does not always es- 
 cape unhurt himself. But shall the word 
 of M the High and Holy One, the word 
 of Him who sitteth on the circle of the 
 earth," be made an arena for the com- 
 bats of its puny inhabitants, whom the 
 prophet represents by the most con- 
 temptible insect ? 
 
 But although, as we have already ob* 
 served, if truth be attacked, it must be 
 defended, the Christian controvertist 
 never engages in offensive war. He.
 
 186 ILL EFFECTS OF 
 
 does not fight for victory, but truth. 
 And the surest way for him to ascertain 
 this, is, to examine the temper with which 
 he defends it. Rivalry is not his motive, 
 nor is railing his weapon. 
 
 If, as it is said, warfare is the natural 
 state of man, let its hostility among 
 Christians be directed to a foreign 
 enemy ; let them not engage in civil 
 war. You have already " provoked 
 each other to good works," which is 
 part of the law; go on, and provoke 
 each other to " love, which is the ful- 
 filling of the law." Let both sides 
 rejoice in the good done, without caring 
 which does it. " There are diversities 
 of operations, but it is the same God 
 which worketh all in all." If there is 
 so much done separately, what a mighty 
 mass of good would be produced by 
 cordial co-operation ! Let me not be 
 accused of levity in applying the words 
 of the poet, 
 
 The Douglas and the Percy both together, 
 Were confident against a world in arms.
 
 THE LATE SECESSION. 187 
 
 We know that, in the sight of God, 
 he is not the most successful champion 
 who may have given most falls to his 
 adversary; but he who has obtained the 
 most victories over his own spirit. And 
 he will be found, in the great and tre- 
 mendous day of reckoning, to have been 
 the most valiant soldier of Jesus Christ, 
 not who has been the fiercest combatant 
 in the field of controversy, but who shall 
 have brought most glory to God, and 
 most souls to heaven. 
 
 If we made, as surely we ought to 
 make, the Holy Scripture our standard 
 of judging, as well as of believing, of 
 charity as well as of faith, of brotherly 
 kindness as well as of orthodoxy j — if 
 we brought the Bible to be the constant 
 arbiter of our debates, as well as the 
 professed rule of our lives, we should 
 attack nothing with warmth but what 
 that Bible condemns. All differences of 
 opinion in which God has not set to 
 His seal that it is false, should be treated 
 with candour ; men should not then
 
 188 ILL EFFECTS OF 
 
 make their own supposed " purged eyes" 
 the universal medium of clear vision, they 
 should not villify others for seeing the 
 same object with other optics. Want of 
 charity is probably no less a fault than 
 the one we may be reviling ; and does 
 not a want of discrimination, or rather 
 does not that blindness which is inspired 
 by prejudice, lead to that deficiency in 
 candour which widens the difference ? 
 To profess opinions of which Scripture 
 neither commands nor prohibits our be- 
 lief} ought not to set at irreconcileable 
 variance beings who are equally candi- 
 dates for heaven. In that abode of per- 
 fect peace and perfect love, no small 
 portion of the promised felicity may 
 arise from our being of no party. 
 
 A difference in opinion on points on 
 which the Holy Spirit has been silent, 
 on which no declaratory sentence in 
 Scripture has been pronounced, is surely 
 no ground for the triumph of superiority 
 in those who maintain them, nor for 
 supercilious contempt in those who re-
 
 THE LATE SECESSION. 18$ 
 
 ject them. Is it not putting matters of 
 minor importance in the place of essen- 
 tials ? while perhaps by the disputants 
 on both sides, essentials are not always 
 held with so firm a grasp, or at least 
 are not debated with such unkind per- 
 tinacity. 
 
 We have hitherto alluded to difference of 
 opinion between pious men, men who on 
 both sides are in earnest in their religion. 
 But are there not men of little piety to 
 be found, who side with one or the other 
 party, and become the hottest controver- 
 tists, while they take little real interest 
 in vital religion ; who oppose without 
 belief, and defend without conviction, 
 merely because they wish to be appended 
 to that side which they happen to think 
 most creditable, most popular, or most 
 profitable ? 
 
 Let us then love in each other now 
 what God loves in us, and bear with 
 the rest. The cultivation of this spirit 
 of kindness would so sanctify the tem- 
 per that we should forgive and over-
 
 190 ILL EFFECTS OF 
 
 look those inferior matters in others, 
 which might not exactly coincide with 
 our own views and opinions. 
 
 These discrepancies in sentiment are 
 perhaps permitted for mutual advantage ; 
 and the cultivation of a candid disposi- 
 tion may be carried to a wider extent, 
 and a spirit of forbearance be kept in 
 higher exercise, where there are some 
 points to keep forbearance in action, 
 than if there were no such thing as 
 diversity of sentiment. By the constant 
 and reciprocal operation of this spirit of 
 Christian kindness, we shall be made 
 more meet for that state where all will be 
 of one mind, as well as one heart, where 
 charity will have its full consummation, 
 and forbearance its full reward. 
 
 Let us then prepare ourselves, and 
 each other, by the exercise of the one 
 for the fruition of the other. Let God 
 be all in all now as He will be hereafter, 
 and there will be no room left in the 
 heart of a Christian for animosity, or 
 unkindness towards his fellow Christians. 
 8
 
 THE LATE SECESSION. 191 
 
 A cordial agreement in those essentials to 
 which the Gospel has annexed salvation, 
 should swallow up all the present petty, / 
 but dividing distinctions. Could this 
 most desirable object be accomplished, 
 then should we hope to see a renovation 
 of that spirit which, in the early ages of 
 the church, provoked even its enemies - 
 to exclaim with admiring wonder, See 
 how these Christians love one anotJier /
 
 192 
 
 ON THE EXERTIONS OF PIOUS 
 LADIES. 
 
 We are now about to tread, which we 
 do with a fearful and timid step, on 
 tender ground. It is with mingled re- 
 spect and reluctance we venture to touch 
 on certain delicate points which affect 
 the sincerely pious ; persons who equally 
 avoid all eccentricity in doctrine, and 
 negligence in practice ; yet among whom 
 little errors may hereafter creep in, 
 the very consequence, perhaps, of that 
 increasing and inestimable blessing, reli- 
 gious society. It is to be feared they 
 may incur the hazard of raising in others 
 objections against religion, by their ho- 
 nest zeal to promote it. 
 
 The persons to whom we presume to 
 allude are of that sex, in which, perhaps,
 
 ON THE EfcEBTIONS, &C. 193 
 
 most piety is to be found, and who are 
 in so many respects essentially advancing 
 its cause. Their services are so mate- 
 rially useful, that it would be a subject 
 of deep regret, if, by any slight inadvert- 
 ence, their value should ever be dimi- 
 nished. We are too often led to com- 
 plain of deficiencies in religion ; we are 
 now to speak — not of its excess, for we 
 believe there is no such thing — but ra- 
 ther to guard the truly pious against the 
 ^possibility of inconveniences, which, 
 should they arise, would be a diminution 
 of their usefulness. 
 
 The thoughtless and dissipated indeed, 
 who haunt unsocial crowds, and lay out 
 their talents for that world which they 
 have chosen for their portion, find their 
 reward where they seek it, in the admir- 
 ation of that world where they flutter 
 and shine. The others patiently wait 
 for theirs in that single sentence, " Well 
 done, good and faithful servant." Yet 
 though it is painful to say a syllable 
 which might look like disapprobation 
 
 K
 
 194 ON THE EXERTIONS 
 
 when only caution is intended, may we 
 hazard a few words, not of censure but 
 of friendly intimation ? 
 
 May not those large portions of time, 
 and strength, and spirits, so generously 
 spent abroad by zealous Christians, in 
 the most noble exertions of religious 
 charity, be sometimes suffered to en- 
 trench, in some measure, upon the 
 imperious calls of domestic life, upon 
 those pleasing and sacred duties for 
 which home is a name so dear? May 
 they not be so exhausted by external 
 concerns, that they may be in danger of 
 entering with diminished interest on the 
 retired exercises of the closet. All busi- 
 ness, even religious business, is apt to 
 produce a hurry and bustle in the mind, 
 and an agitation in the spirits, which 
 the most serious persons lament, as being 
 attended with some disqualification for 
 personal improvement. — " My mother's 
 children gave me their vineyards to keep, 
 but mine own vineyard have I not kept/ 
 was the pathetic lamentation of the an-
 
 OF PIOUS LADIES. 19*5 
 
 cient church. They had engaged her in 
 labours and difficulties which she feared 
 had in some measure impeded the pro- 
 gress of her own spiritual concerns. It 
 was in her own house, at Bethany, that 
 Mary sat at the feet of Jesus. — We fully 
 admit, however, not only the complete 
 compatibility, but the expediency, of 
 uniting what we owe to those abroad, 
 and to ourselves and families at home j 
 the highest characters are those who 
 combine both. We are not combating, 
 but applauding a zeal, which we fer- 
 vently hope may never be suppressed, 1 if 
 it should ever require to be somewhat 
 regulated. 
 
 There is no part of Christian duty 
 which more requires us to look well to 
 the motive by which our actions are 
 governed. It is of importance to examine 
 whether our most useful, if busy, pur- 
 suits, are not influenced by a natural 
 fondness for bustle, an animal activity, 
 a love of notice. Whether even the 
 charitable labours grow not more from a 
 
 K 2
 
 196* ON THE EXERTIONS 
 
 restless spirit than from real piety. Let 
 us observe, however, that though these 
 defective motives may at first excite the 
 zeal of some, yet by a perseverance in 
 well-doing, assisted by humble prayer, 
 the motive may at length become as pure 
 as the act is undoubtedly right. 
 
 It is asserted, but we trust with more 
 severity than justice, that there is a 
 growing tendency in some truly excel- 
 lent persons to introduce show and display 
 in their religion ; a tendency not quite 
 consistent with the interior, spiritual 
 nature of Christianity. It is not so much 
 an evil we are guarding against, as the 
 appearance of evil. Their sex, like 
 their religion, is of a sober character; 
 and the tendency to which we are allud- 
 ing, may create a suspicion that religion, 
 even among good people, is not so much 
 considered as a thing between God and 
 their own soul, as we know it really is ; 
 for we are far from suspecting that secret 
 communion with their God and Saviour 
 is not considered as their primary duty.
 
 OF PIOUS LADIES. 197 
 
 And we are willing to believe that the 
 effect of this duty will always be visible 
 in producing that sobriety and simplicity, 
 which so conspicuously, and so beautifully 
 distinguish the religion of the New 
 Testament. 
 
 The religion of Jesus is utterly without 
 parade, it affects no publicity. It is 
 enough for his servants to believe that 
 their Heavenly Father, who sees them 
 in secret, sees them with an approving 
 eye. 
 
 As they have got above acting from 
 the fear of man, the next step is to get 
 above acting for his praise; — the ex- 
 cessive applause and commendation of 
 their Christian friends being, in reality, 
 still more to be watched against than the 
 reproach of the irreligious. The one 
 teaches them to be circumspect, the other 
 may in time induce them to believe that 
 circumspection is no longer necessary. 
 This negligence, if it do not make them 
 do wrong, may lead them to be too much 
 elated with doing what is right. 
 k 3
 
 198 ON THE EXERTIONS 
 
 But there are higher motives for the 
 use of discreet reserve in the Christian's 
 mind than what regards merely their per- 
 sonal character. However pure in mo- 
 tive, however innocent in action, they 
 must be careful not to have their good 
 evil spoken of. They must be scrupu- 
 lously cautious of not bringing the least 
 reproach on the cause dearest to their 
 affections. Pious persons cannot but 
 know, that with the utmost care to avoid 
 adding to the offence which Christian 
 truth, however discreetly exhibited,, ne- 
 cessarily gives,, many are looking out 
 for pretences to discredit not only the 
 professor, but the profession itself. But 
 if they should hereafter see any of those 
 improprieties for which they are looking 
 out ; if any indiscretion should be found 
 where it is sedulously sought, Christianity 
 would suffer, and impiety triumph. 
 
 We sincerely hope that certain sharp- 
 sighted observers, who are keenly on the 
 watch for any thing that may discredit 
 serious piety, who are peeping in at
 
 OF PIOUS LADIES. 199 
 
 every crevice, through which they think 
 they may detect any real or supposed 
 ground of censure, may never be gratified 
 with the discovery of what they so in- 
 dustriously seek. But it is obvious, that 
 where they can detect no substantial fault, 
 they take comfort in finding a foible j 
 where there is no deformity they triumph- 
 antly carry away a blemish, and are 
 ready to make the most of the slightest 
 imperfection. And a speck which would 
 not be perceived in an ordinary form, is 
 conspicuous on that which is white and 
 pure. This, by a little perversion, and 
 not a little exaggeration, not only of fact 
 but of conjecture, is propagated till it 
 become a mischief. In the detection of 
 the slightest flaw in characters of eminent 
 piety, they go away rejoicing, as if they 
 had found some hidden treasure. And it is 
 well perhaps, eyen for the best Christians, 
 that there are such critical inspectors; 
 and the knowledge that they are watched 
 will answer an excellent purpose, if it set 
 
 them on watching themselves. 
 k 4
 
 £00 ON THE EXERTIONS 
 
 Am I then an enemy to Christian ex- 
 ertion ? God forbid ! It is the glory of 
 I our age, that among the most useful and 
 j zealous servants of our Divine Master, 
 are to be found, of " devout and 
 honourable women not a few." Ladies, 
 whose own education not having been 
 limited to the harp and the sketch-book, 
 though not unskilled in either, are com- 
 petent to teach others what themselves 
 have been taught; who disdain not to 
 be employed in the humblest offices of 
 Christian charity, to be found in the 
 poorest cottage, at the bedside of the 
 sick and dying ; whose daughters, if not 
 the best waltzers, are the best catechis* 
 ers / whose houses are houses of prayer, 
 whose closets are the scene of devout 
 meditation ; who, not contented with the 
 stinted modish measure of a single attend* 
 anee on public worship, so contrive to 
 render the hours of repast subservient to 
 those of duty, as to make a second visit 
 to the temple of their God ; and who 
 endeavour to retain the odour of sanctity,
 
 OF PIOUS LADIES. 201 
 
 shed on the sacred day, through the 
 duties of the week. 
 
 But to pursue the subject in a dif- 
 ferent, though not distant direction, we 
 cannot too much commend those valu- 
 able persons, whom neither fortune, 
 rank, nor any temporal advantages, have 
 been able to seduce to follow those vain 
 pursuits, those light, and in some cases, 
 dangerous amusements, so eagerly sought 
 by the votaries of pleasure. We cannot 
 but admire, that all those energies which 
 others are wasting in idle diversions, or 
 employments little better than idleness, 
 are, by these excellent persons, devoted 
 to purposes of religion, and religious or 
 useful charities. 
 
 If, indeed, like the females attached 
 to the new school of theology, they 
 deserted the established proprieties, an# 
 prescribed decorums, which have ever 
 been considered as the safeguard, as 
 well as the ornament, of their sex ; if 
 they assisted to propagate novel opi- 
 nions j if they undertook to share the * 
 K 5
 
 202 ON THE EXERTIONS 
 
 office of directors In spiritual concerns ; 
 if they diverted to public purposes, the 
 talents given them for the more appro- 
 priate and subordinate, but not less 
 useful offices of private life ;j if they 
 attempted to clear difficulties in divinity, 
 which the wisest and most learned men 
 had approached with awe and reverence, 
 and had receded, for fear of " darkening 
 counsel by words without knowledge j" — 
 if" they undertook to decide between 
 contending creeds while they considered 
 the commandments as antiquated — new- 
 modelling the one and rescinding the 
 other without ceremony ; — if they al- 
 lowed themselves to determine the right 
 and the wrong on points too abstruse, 
 not only for female, but even for human 
 intelligence, to decide upon, and to get 
 rid of those they did not like or did 
 not comprehend ; — if they had quitted 
 plain, practical, intelligible religion, for 
 misleading theories, and, like the apos- 
 tate Galatians had " removed from Him 
 that called them into the grace of Christ 
 14
 
 OF PIOUS LADIES. 203 
 
 unto another gospel ;" — if all these 
 things had taken place, then they would 
 indeed deserve even more censure than 
 they have incurred ; then, though we 
 should pity their error and lament their 
 apostacy, we should be among the last 
 to apologise for the one, or excuse the 
 ^tner. 
 
 It has been brought, as a charge, 
 
 , against the valuable ladies whose cause 
 we are advocating, as if it were a de 
 parture from the delicacy of the sex, to 
 attend at the annual meetings of cer- 
 tain religious and charitable societies j 
 but we know not what reasonable ob- 
 jection can be made to their being 
 modest and silent auditors on these oc- 
 casions. They do not attend the resorts 
 ot' the unemployed, or the ill employed 
 
 — they do not attend to hear the idle 
 news of the neighbourhood, but to hear 
 " good news from a far country," — news, 
 which the angels in heaven stoop down 
 to hear, — not the conversion of one 
 sinner, but the conversion of many, — - 
 k 6
 
 204 ON THE EXERTIONS 
 
 to hear that best news, the extension of 
 Christianity to the extremities of the 
 globe, — to hear that 
 
 
 All kingdoms and all princes of the earth 
 Flock to that light ;— 
 
 To hear 
 
 That eastern Java to the farthest west, : 
 And Ethiopia spreads abroad the hand 
 And worships ! 
 
 Compare now these inoffensive and 
 quiet auditors, with the gay multitudes 
 iof their own sex which crowd the re- 
 sorts of pleasure. Here, they are the 
 peaceful listeners ; there, they are the 
 busy performers. The others are not, 
 as here, passive recipients of entertain- 
 ment, but the entertainers, but the ex- 
 hibitors. Yet, who, among the worldly, 
 censures one of these classes ? — who, 
 among the prejudiced, does not cen- 
 c sure the other ? 
 
 So much for the difference in the 
 act; let us examine the difference in
 
 OF PIOUS LADIES. 205 
 
 point of time ; for, as in our pleasurable 
 pursuits, the consumption of time, that 
 precious material of which life is made, 
 forms a very considerable object, it call- 
 not be thought unfair to compare the 
 two classes on this ground. 
 
 Did the pursuits of both, in point of 
 health, sobriety in dress, security of 
 morals, preservation of delicacy, more 
 nearly approach each other than the 
 most strenuous advocate for dissipation 
 can pretend; yet the prodigious in- 
 equality of the two, as to the waste of 
 time, must settle the matter at once 
 with those who know the value of this 
 fugitive, this irretrievable talent. 
 
 Compare then the few hours in the 
 day, and the very few days in the year, 
 given up by the one to these serious 
 pleasures, with the uncounted hours of 
 the countless nights, spent by the other 
 in the anti-social crowds of turbulent 
 pleasure — spent, we will not say in the 
 midnight parties, for that would give a 
 false impression of the season of those
 
 206 ON THE EXERTIONS 
 
 amusements. * The midnight hour was 
 heretofore used proverbially to express 
 late revelling. But from the present in- 
 version of hours, that would givt an idea 
 not only of dulness and vulgarity, or 
 it would rather designate the hour when 
 company met, than when they parted. 
 Midnight was once the time which 
 closed the scene of dissipation ; it is 
 now that of commencing it. And it 
 is scarcely extravagant to say, that the 
 morning frequenters of the charitable 
 meetings join them not many hours 
 after the others return from the scene 
 of their unquiet pleasures. In the one 
 case, no neighbourhood is kept awake 
 by unseasonable noise and knockings, 
 no servants are exposed to corruptions 
 abroad, nor robbed of quiet rest at 
 home. 
 
 To turn from the metropolis to the 
 provinces. Compare tne little absences 
 from home of ladies who inspect the 
 -concerns, and give instruction to the 
 poor, with the long and frequent de-
 
 OF PIOUS LADIES. 2(Y/ 
 
 sertion of another class, not of home 
 only, but of country ! 
 
 Upon the whole, though we would 
 carefully guard against both, yet we 
 must confess, in the present state of 
 things, it is not so much a little excess 
 in zeal in one quarter, as the visible 
 growth of dissipation in another, which 
 " has increased, is increasing, and ought 
 to be diminished ;" and truly happy 
 should we be, if the pen of the ready 
 I writers, so frequently employed against 
 the minor, would occasionally be exerted 
 against the greater excess. 
 
 # # * * # * 
 The.opening of the nineteenth. century 
 has been a period for the display of ex- 
 traordinary energies, exerted in every 
 sort of direction. They had been power- 
 fully exerted in bringing on the late 
 revolution. All the energies of France, 
 whether in science, taient, wit, v or 
 wealth, were combined in one huge 
 engine for the establishment of atheism 
 on the proposed ruins of Christ and his
 
 908 ON THE EXERTIONS 
 
 kingdom. We hope this grand device 
 was partly foiled, even there. In the gene- 
 ral assault some skirmishes were fought 
 in this country ; but here a counter- 
 attack was made. " Michael and his 
 angels fought against the dragon and his 
 angels, and prevailed/' — " The accuser 
 of the brethren was cast down." 
 
 Afterwards, the great human scourge 
 of mankind in the same foreign country, 
 by a singular energy of character, aided 
 by an unprecedented combination of cir- 
 cumstances, to which the previous con- 
 tempt of religion had led the way, 
 projected the most exorbitant enterprises, 
 and accomplished them by the most suc- 
 cessful perseverance in every species of 
 political and moral mischief. In imitation 
 of one whom the enormity of his crimes 
 would almost warrant us in calling his 
 grand inspirer, his labours were perhaps 
 more energetic, because " his time was 
 short." Here again Michael made a 
 counter-attack on the dragon. For it is 
 to the same powerful energies, exerted
 
 Of PIOUS LADIES. 209 
 
 in the contrary direction, that We may 
 ascribe those numberless noble and bene- 
 ficial societies at home, which promise to 
 effect a moral change in the condition, 
 not of one country, not of one Continent, 
 but of the whole Globe, and by which we 
 hope finally, through the Divine blessing, 
 " to beat down Satan under our feet." 
 
 But this has not only been a period 
 for exerting the energies of countries and 
 communities. They have been exerted 
 under different situations by different 
 characters, and to opposite purposes, by 
 individuals ; they have been remarkably 
 exhibited in private persons, in a sex 
 where energy is less expected to break 
 out into fearless action ; in Charlotte 
 Corday, in Madame Roland, and other 
 political enthusiasts abroad, all acting 
 with the spirit of the heroines of pagan 
 Rome, and actuated by a religion much 
 resembling theirs. 
 
 At home, the best energies of the 
 human mind have been exerted to the 
 best purposes, by private individuals also;
 
 £10 ON THE EXERTIONS 
 
 and exerted without any departure from 
 S modesty, prudence, and simplicity, the 
 sacrifice of which would ill repay the 
 accomplishment of the most popular 
 action. 
 
 It would be unpardonable in our re- 
 marks on well-directed energies, to pass 
 over one instance, on which, we trust, 
 there cannot be two opinions. If some 
 of the novelties of the present period are 
 its errors, others are its glory. It is 
 cheering to the wearied pilgrim, in tra- 
 versing the desert of this sinful world, to 
 have the eye here and there refreshed 
 with a verdant spot, yielding not only 
 beauty, but fertility. 
 
 In alluding to certain recent under- 
 takings which reflect honour on our 
 country, it would be unjust to omit one 
 which reflects honour on our sex. 
 Justice, as well as gratitude, would be 
 wounded, were no tribute to be paid to 
 the most heroic of women. 
 
 The reader will have anticipated, that 
 / we allude to the female Howard, Hers
 
 OF PIOUS LADIES. 211 
 
 is almost (her sex considered) a higher ^ 
 strain of Christian heroism. Unprotected 
 and alone, she dared to venture into 
 scenes that would appal the stoutest 
 heart, and which the single principle 
 by which she was actuated could have 
 sustained hers. With true Christian 
 courage, she ventured to explore the 
 dreary abodes of calamity and crime, of 
 execration and despair. She took " the 
 gauge of misery," not as a matter of cu- 
 riosity, or philosophical speculation, but 
 with the holy hope of relieving it. The 
 favour of Him who stopped the mouths 
 of the lions in the prophet's den, stopped 
 those of these scarcely less savage beings. 
 Her mild demeanour awed their rebel- 
 lious spirits into peace. 
 
 Her visit was not the sudden ebullition 
 of a charitable fit. It was the result of 
 deliberate reflection, and doubtless of 
 fervent prayer. She had long been pro- 
 jecting the means how to assist these 
 most desperate and forlorn of human 
 kind. She had conceived a hope, that
 
 212 ON THE EXERTIONS 
 
 what was flagitious might not be incorri- 
 gible ; and adopted a well-digested plan 
 for their religious instruction. 
 
 But she knew human nature too well, 
 not to know that religious instruction 
 would be very inefficacious, without cor- 
 recting inveterately bad habits. Toge- 
 ther with a few pious and able associates 
 of her own sex *, she instituted a school 
 of reform and industry, found manual 
 employment for those who had never 
 worked, and Christian instruction for 
 those who had never been taught. The 
 lips that had been seldom opened but to 
 blaspheme their Maker, were taught to 
 praise Him ; the hands hitherto employed 
 in theft were employed in honest labour. 
 Infants, in a doubly-lamentable sense, 
 born in sin, and bred in vice, were 
 snatched from a destruction which had 
 appeared inevitable, and put into a train 
 of improvement. The gloomy mansion 
 which had lately been a scene of horror, 
 
 * Among these Mrs. Steinkopff stands in the 
 first rank.
 
 OF PIOUS LADIES. 213 
 
 only to be exceeded by those more dread- 
 ful future mansions to which it was con- 
 ducting them, changed its face. The 
 loathsome prison, which had witnessed 
 nothing but intoxication and idleness ; 
 had heard no sounds but those of revil- 
 ing and of imprecation, gradually became 
 a scene of comparative decency, sobriety, 
 and order. 
 
 If ever a charity of so extensive and 
 public a nature could have been pleaded 
 as some excuse for the remission of do- 
 mestic duties, this might have been con- 
 sidered as the one exempt case, but it 
 was not so. If she stole some hours 
 from her family to visit the prison, she 
 stole some hours from sleep to attend to 
 her family. 
 
 Happily, goodness is contagious as well 
 as sin. We may now say in a good 
 sense, " Behold how great a matter a 
 little fire kindleth 1" Distant places 
 have caught the flame. The bright ex- 
 ample is already imitated by other ladies
 
 < 
 
 \ 
 
 214 ON THE EXERTIONS, &C. 
 
 in some of our great towns, and will 
 probably take a still more ample range. 
 
 May we conclude this part of our sub- 
 ject by observing, that ladies of other 
 religious professions would do well to 
 copy, in certain respects, the example of 
 the females of the society to which this 
 distinguished lady belongs ; — giving into 
 no habits of dissipation, they have time ; 
 addicted to little expense in personal 
 decoration, they have money ; and the 
 time and money thus snatched from vain 
 and frivolous purposes, are more wisely 
 directed together into the same right 
 channel of Christian benevolence, 
 
 ■ 
 - 
 
 •v
 
 215 
 
 - 
 
 .* 
 ■ ' 
 
 HIGH PROFESSION AND NEGLIGENT 
 PRACTICE. 
 
 Ihere has seldom been a period in 
 which there was more talk of religion, 
 than that in which we live ; and we are 
 disposed to believe, that the abundance 
 of the heart in this instance produces 
 its usual effect upon the lips. But it 
 must also be observed, that, in an age of 
 much vital religion, as it must be ac- 
 knowledged this is, there will naturally 
 be not a little false profession, or, at 
 best, in many professors, more external 
 show than inward piety — a religion that 
 is sometimes more distinguished by pe- 
 culiar phrases, and hot contention about 
 opinions, than by much devotedness of 
 heart and lifp..
 
 216 HIGH PROFESSION 
 
 One of the causes to which the growth 
 of crime among our poor has been as- 
 signed, is the growth of our population ; 
 and some have undertaken to prove, 
 that it is not because they are worse, 
 but because they are more. This same 
 way of judging may, perhaps, be applied 
 to the apparent growth of error in re- 
 ligion—that it is to be ascribed to its 
 vast increase. As there is numerically 
 a larger population in the religious ranks, 
 may there not be naturally expected a 
 larger proportion of error ? 
 
 We now, therefore, venture a few- 
 remarks on another class of Christians, 
 whose intentions we hope are not bad, 
 though their charity is narrow, and their 
 information small. We will distinguish 
 them by the name of Phraseologists. 
 These are persons who, professing to 
 believe the whole of the Gospel, seem , 
 to regard only one half of it. They 
 stand quite in opposition to the useful 
 and laborious class whom we last con- 
 sidered. None will accuse these of that 
 
 *3
 
 AND NEGLIGENT PRACTICE. 217 
 
 virtuous excess, of that unwearied en- 
 deavour to promote the good of others, 
 on which we there animadverted. These 
 are assiduous hearers, but indifferent 
 doers ; very valiant talkers for the truth, 
 but remiss workers. They are more 
 addicted to hear sermons, than to profit 
 by them. 
 
 Their religion consists more in a 
 sort of spiritual gossipping, than in holi- 
 ness of life. They diligently look out 
 after the faults of others, but are rather 
 lenient to their own. They accuse of 
 being legal, those who act more in the 
 service of Christianity, and dispute less 
 about certain opinions. They overlook 
 essentials, and debate rather fiercely on, 
 at best, doubtful points of doctrine ; and 
 form their judgment of the piety of 
 others, rather from their warmtli in con- 
 troversy, than in their walking humbly 
 with God. 
 
 They always exhibit in their con- 
 versation the idiom of a party, and are 
 apt to suspect the sincerity of those 
 
 L
 
 218 ON HIGH PROFESSION 
 
 whose higher breeding, and more correct 
 habits, discover a better taste. Deli- 
 cacy with them, is want of zeal ; prudent 
 reserve, want of earnestness ; sentiments 
 of piety, conveyed in other words than 
 are found in their vocabulary, are sus- 
 pected of error. They make no allow- 
 ance for the difference of education, 
 habits, and society ; all must have one 
 standard of language, and that standard 
 is their own. 
 
 Even if, on some points, you hold 
 nearly the same sentiments, it will not 
 save your credit ; if you do not express 
 them in the same language, you are in 
 danger of having your principles sus- 
 pected. By your proficiency or declen- 
 sion in this dialect, and not by the 
 greater or less devotedness of your heart, 
 the increasing or diminishing consistency 
 in your practice, they take the gauge 
 of your religion, and determine the rise 
 and fall of your spiritual thermometer. 
 The language of these technical Chris- 
 tians indisposes persons of refinement,
 
 AND NEGLIGENT PRACTICE. 219 
 
 who have not had the advantage of 
 seeing religion under a more engaging 
 form, to serious piety, by leading them 
 to make a most unjust association be- 
 tween religion and bad taste. 
 
 When they encounter a new acquaint- 
 ance of their own school, these reciprocal 
 signs of religious intelligence produce 
 an instantaneous sisterhood ; and they 
 will run the chance of what the cha- 
 racter of the stranger may prove to be, 
 if she speaks in the vernacular tongue. 
 With them, words are not only the signs 
 of things, but the things themselves. 
 
 If the phraseologists meet with a well- 
 disposed young person, whose oppor- 
 tunities are slender, and to whom religion 
 is new, they alarm her by the impetuosity 
 of their questions. They do not ex- 
 amine if her principles are sound, but 
 " does she pray extempore?" This 
 alarms her, if her too recent knowledge 
 of her Bible and herself has not yet 
 enabled her to make this desirable pro- 
 ficiency. " Will she tell her experi- 
 L 2
 
 220 ON HIGH PROFESSION 
 
 ence?" These interrogations are made 
 without regard to that humility which 
 may make her afraid to appear better 
 than she is, and to that modesty which 
 restrains a loud expression of her 
 feelings. She does not, perhaps, even 
 know the meaning of the term, in their 
 acceptance of it. 
 
 Do we then ridicule experimental 
 religion ? Do we think lightly of that 
 interior power of Divine grace upon 
 the heart, which is one of the strongest 
 evidences of the truth of Christianity ? 
 God forbid! But surely we may dis- 
 approve the treating it with flippancy 
 and unhallowed familiarity ; we may 
 disapprove of their discussing it with 
 as little reserve and seriousness, as if they 
 were speaking of the state of the 
 weather, or of the hour of the day ; 
 we may object to certain equivocal 
 feelings being made the sole criterion 
 of religion — feelings to which those 
 who have them not may pretend, — 
 which those who have thejm may fear
 
 AND NEGLIGENT PRACTICE. 221 
 
 to communicate, before they have ac- 
 quired a strength and permanency which 
 may make them more decisive ; we may 
 blame such injudicious questions to in- 
 cipient Christians, who barely know the 
 first elements of Christianity. 
 
 By the apparent depth of their views, 
 and this cant in the expression, the 
 stranger is led to think there is some- 
 thing unintelligible in religion — some 
 mysterious charm, which is too high for 
 her apprehension. They will not hold 
 out to her the consoling hope of pro- 
 gressive piety; for, with them, growth 
 in grace is no grace at all, — the starting- 
 post and the goal are one and the same 
 point. One of these consequences pro- 
 bably follows : she either falls into their 
 peculiar views, or she is driven to seek 
 wiser counsellors, or is led, by the hope- 
 lessness of attaining to their supposed 
 elevation, to give up the pursuit of re- 
 ligion altogether. 
 
 These technical religionists are so far 
 from encouraging favourable tendencies, 
 l 3
 
 £22 ON HIGH PROFESSION 
 
 and " the day of small things," that they 
 have no patience with persons professing 
 hope, and despise every advance short of 
 assurance. 
 
 To judge of them by their convers- 
 ation, they seem to have as firm a 
 certainty of their own security, as of 
 the danger of all the rest of the world; 
 that is, of all those who do not see with 
 their eyes, hear with their ears, and dis- 
 cuss in their language. You would sup- 
 pose salvation a very easy attainment, 
 to see them got so much above hopes or 
 fears. 
 
 Surely eternal happiness is not so- 
 cheap a thing, as that any should plead 
 their claim to it on sliglit grounds. 
 Some who talk confidently of this cer- 
 tainty, do not give strong indications 
 in their life, of their having entered in at 
 " the straight gate" which leads to it. 
 If it costs us few sacrifices, and required 
 as little diligence, as some exhibit, there 
 would not be so many who need doubt 
 of their admission » Seek, strive, run^
 
 AND NEGLIGENT PRACTICE. 223 
 
 fight, labour, know thyself, humble thy- 
 self, — are imperatives not quite so easily 
 or so generally obeyed, as to render 
 " the narrow way" a very crowded 
 avenue. Self-knowledge, self-denial, self- 
 abasement, are safer symptoms than 
 undoubting confidence and exulting se- 
 curity. 
 
 The desire of hearing and speaking 
 much on religious subjects, though 
 Christian duties, are less unequivocal 
 marks of improvement, than whether 
 we love money less, and our neighbour 
 more ; whether there is any abatement 
 in our pride, any victory over our 
 passions ; whether we are more disposed 
 to conquer our own will, and to submit 
 to that of God. A growth in candour 
 and charity, in kindness and forbear- 
 ance, in meekness and self-distrust, will 
 be the probable consequence of a close 
 examination into our present deficiency 
 in these amiable graces. 
 
 To these persons, the exclusive credit 
 of their individual preacher is at least as 
 l 4
 
 224 ON HIGH PROFESSION 
 
 valuable a consideration, as the glory of 
 that God whom it may be his constant aim 
 to glorify ; and they do not think they 
 exalt him sufficiently, if it be not done at 
 the expense of others among his brethren, 
 to whom he perhaps looks up with rever- 
 ence. There is a wide difference between 
 the kindness of praise and the grossness 
 of adulation ; between affection and wor- 
 ship ; between gratitude and idolatry. 
 
 Since the human mind is so constituted 
 as sometimes to require remission from 
 its stricter engagements; since it feels 
 the need of relaxing into some intervals 
 of pleasure ; it is no unimportant object 
 to enquire what pleasures are dangerous, 
 what are safe, and what may even be 
 made instructive, even where improve- 
 ment is not the professed object. 
 
 The persons in question have little 
 turn for books ; might it not usefully fill 
 many a vacant gap were they to devote a 
 little of their leisure to rational reading ? 
 There is much valuable literature which 
 occupies an intermediate space between
 
 AND NEGLIGENT PRACTICES. 225 
 
 strictly religious and frothy books. 
 History, well-chosen travels, select bio- 
 graphical works, furnish not only harm- 
 less, but profitable reading. The study of 
 these would improve their views ; and by 
 expanding their minds, furnish them with 
 topics for general conversation and useful 
 reflection. It would enlarge their charity 
 by letting them see that many authors 
 are not wicked, though they do not al- 
 ways confine their works to religious 
 discussion. 
 
 Whatever invigorates our capacity of 
 receiving knowledge, whatever adds new 
 and sound ideas to our stock, is not to be 
 despised as useless, or rejected as sinful. 
 Be it observed, however, that general 
 literature must not be allowed to absorb 
 our time, nor interfere with what is of 
 indispensable obligation ; yet, if it be 
 clear from every thin'g light, sceptical, 
 or unsound, it safely fills up the other- 
 wise idle intervals of a religious life, 
 which without it is liable to sink into 
 meaner recreations, and inferior pursuits. 
 L 5
 
 226 ON HIGH PROFESSION 
 
 Objects of the first importance cannot 
 be exclusively pursued even by higher 
 capacities than those we are considering* 
 It is particularly necessary, therefore, 
 for these last to supply their leisure with 
 occupations which will furnish useful in- 
 formation, and matter of pleasing commu- 
 nication . For if the most elevated minds 
 require the relief of change, muGh more 
 does the ordinary and uncultivated intel- 
 lect. It has but few images, which are 
 soon exhausted, and must sink into 
 weariness if it be not replenished by new 
 ones. — Reading, such as we presume to 
 recommend, might prevent the vacant 
 mind from brooding over mysteries, 
 which it has pleased the God of all wisdom, 
 as w r ell as all goodness, to hide from more 
 enlightened minds than those we are 
 contemplating. The want of something 
 better to do, the want of resources of a 
 higher order between the duties of the 
 highest, reduces many persons to the 
 most trifling ways of getting rid of time. 
 They who allow of no intermediate read-
 
 AND NEGLIGENT PRACTICE. 227 
 
 ing between a sermon and a play, are 
 often engaged in conversations, to which 
 the most frivolous dialogues ever written 
 would afford no adequate parallel ; and 
 they who would think it a sin to be study- 
 ing the history of their country, are 
 frequently, and perhaps eagerly enquiring 
 into the gossip of their own village, and 
 contributing new anecdotes to its idle 
 annals. 
 
 Many books are useful, that are not t 
 professedly religious, for we have minds 
 as well as souls. We may be well in- 
 structed for the purposes of this world, 
 without invading on the more important 
 business of another. 
 
 If, then, they would adopt sober liter- 
 ature, in exchange for indolent trifling, 
 their minds would improve in vigour, 
 and their tempers in cheerfulness and 
 candour. Every unoccupied mind lays 
 itself open to the incursion of more dan- 
 gerous enemies than those it intends to 
 avoid j such a mind takes refuge in what 
 is more injurious than the supposed evil, 
 l 6
 
 228 ON HIGH PROFESSION 
 
 into which it congratulates itself that it 
 has not fallen. A lively " Spectator" of 
 Mr. Addison, or a grave " Guardian" 
 of Bishop Berkeley, would be a pleasing 
 resource. An " Idler" or a " Rambler'* 
 of Div Johnson, might preserve them 
 from realising those characters in their 
 own persons. Such writers would teach 
 them the knowledge of mankind, and let 
 them into many a snug secret which lies 
 unmolested in their own heart. Such 
 books might correct their taste, without 
 deducting any thing from their stock of 
 piety, except perhaps the phrases which 
 disfigure it ; would give them a relish for 
 better society, and thus turn their waste 
 moments to some profit. Be it observed, 
 we speak of persons who have much lei- 
 sure ; those who have little, should give 
 that little to the one Supreme object. 
 
 These religionists delight to speak of 
 themselves as a persecuted people ; so 
 that a stranger not accustomed to their 
 dialect, and having been in the habit of 
 hearing the term applied to imprison-
 
 AND NEGLIGENT PRACTICE. 229 
 
 ment, anathema, and proscription, is 
 rejoiced when he afterwards finds it 
 means no more than a little censure, and 
 not a little ridicule ; the latter perhaps 
 more frequently drawn on them by their 
 quaint phrases, injudicious language, and 
 oddity of manner, than meant to express 
 any contempt of religion itself. 
 
 We do not pretend to say, that there 
 is not still to be encountered that lighter 
 species of persecution which consists in 
 reproach, suspicion, and contempt; that 
 there is not still an inferior kind of spi- 
 ritual martyrdom, which those who would 
 live godly in Christ Jesus must be con- 
 tent to suffer; a persecution which 
 touches not the life but the fame ; but 
 this affects only Christians of a higher 
 strain than those whom we are consider- 
 ing ; persons who do not draw on them- 
 selves censure by their indiscretion, but 
 by their strictness in principle, and their 
 superiority in practice. This reproach, 
 however, they esteem a light evil, and 
 are contented that as it was with the
 
 230 ON HIGH PROFESSION 
 
 master, so it must be with the servant. 
 It is well, however, if attack makes even 
 them more discreet, and reproach more 
 humble. 
 
 In short, the religion of the phraseo- 
 logists is easy, their acquisitions cheap, 
 their sacrifices few, their stock small, 
 but always ready for production. This 
 stock is rather drawn from the memory 
 than the mind ; it consists in terms rather 
 than in ideas ; in opinions rather than in 
 principles ; and is brought out on all oc- 
 casions, without regard to time, place, 
 person, or circumstance. 
 
 It has been triumphantly asserted, but 
 probably with more confidence than 
 truth, that the children of pious persons 
 are not, in general, piously educated. 
 We have known too many instances to 
 the contrary to admit the charge. 
 
 Though a good man's religion cannot 
 be always transmitted with his estate, 
 yet much has been done, and is actually 
 doing, towards this transmission : and if 
 it is sometimes found that the fact is as 
 8
 
 AND NEGLIGENT PRACTICE. 231 
 
 has been asserted, it is, we suspect, 
 chiefly, though perhaps not exclusively, 
 to be found in the class we have been 
 considering. It is perhaps in consistency 
 with some tenets they maintain, that 
 they neglect to prepare the ground, to 
 sow the seed, and labour to eradicate the 
 weeds ; believing that education is of 
 little use ; trusting that whatever is good 
 must come from above, and come in 
 God's own time. 
 
 We, too, know that whatever is good 
 must come from above ; and that of what- 
 ever is good, God is the giver : but we 
 know, also, that the ripening suns, and 
 the gracious showers, and the refreshing 
 dews, which descend from heaven, are 
 not intended to spare the labour of cul- 
 tivation, but to invigorate the plant, to 
 fill the ear, to ripen the grain, and thus, 
 without superseding, to reward and bless 
 the labours of the cultivator.
 
 233 
 
 
 AURICULAR CONFESSION. 
 
 I here are certain topics which are 
 almost too serious to be overlooked in an 
 undertaking of this nature, and are yet 
 almost too delicate to be touched upon. 
 
 Though we are far from thinking auri- 
 cular confession the worst part of another 
 church, yet we do not wish to see it in- 
 troduced into our own, especially under 
 the circumstances to which we are about 
 to allude. — There are certain young 
 ladies of good talents, and considerable 
 cultivation, who have introduced, what 
 we might be almost tempted to call the 
 coquetry of religion. To the friend- 
 ship of men of superior reputation for 
 abilities and piety, — frequently to young 
 ii
 
 AURICULAR CONFESSION. 233 
 
 men, — they insinuate themselves, by 
 making a kind of false confidence. Un- 
 der the humble guise of soliciting instruc- 
 tion and obtaining comfort, they propose 
 to them doubts which they do not enter- 
 tain, disclose difficulties which do not 
 really distress them, ask advice which 
 they probably do not intend to follow, 
 and avow sensibilities with which they 
 are not at all troubled. 
 
 This, it is to be apprehended, is a 
 kind of pious fraud, a little stratagem to 
 be thought better than they are, by the 
 lowly affectation of appearing to be worse. 
 They ask for consolation which they do 
 not need, for they are really not un- 
 happy ; but it is gratifying to engage 
 attention, and to excite interest. These 
 fanciful afflictions, these speculative dis- 
 contents, after having, to the sympathis- 
 ing friend, appeared to be removed, are 
 poured, with an air equally contrite, and 
 a mind equally at ease, into the ear of 
 the next pious, and polite listener ; 
 though the penitent had gone away from
 
 234 AURICULAR CONFESSION. 
 
 the first confessor more than absolved, 
 the mourner more than comforted. 
 
 This confidential opening of the mind, 
 this warm pouring forth of the soul, 
 might be perfectly right and proper, were 
 the communication confined to one spi- 
 ritual director. For, here, the axiom is 
 reversed j here, in the multitude of 
 counsellors, there is not safety, but 
 danger. If the perplexity be real, if the 
 distress sincere, why not confide it to the 
 bosom of some experienced female friend, 
 of some able, and aged divine ? There 
 all would be right, and safe ; there con- 
 fession would bring relief, if relief and 
 not admiration be wanted ; and where 
 the feeling of contrition is genuine, ad- 
 miration will not be sought. 
 
 If the young persons in view were not 
 really estimable, we should not have 
 taken the liberty to guard them against 
 this temptation to vanity and egotism. 
 To vanity, because they go away not 
 only with comfort, but exultation. To 
 egotism," because they go away with an
 
 AURICULAR CONFESSION. 235 
 
 increased tendency to make self their 
 subject. 
 
 A celebrated court * maxim-monger, 
 who was deeply read in human nature, 
 though he did not derive his knowledge 
 from the best sources, nor always turn it 
 to the best account, has however given a 
 sound caution, from which communica- 
 tive young persons might glean a lesson : 
 " Never talk of yourself> neither of your 
 good nor your bad qualities." 
 
 It is true the Christian will know the 
 above admonition to be carried too far. 
 He who considers that the soul is liable 
 to diseases as well as the body, will allow 
 the necessity for a spiritual as well as 
 bodily physician. Now if a patient must, 
 in order to obtain relief, tell his case to 
 a practitioner for the body, is it to be 
 forbidden that the languishing and de- 
 jected soul should lean for advice on a 
 moral counsellor, " An interpreter, one 
 of a thousand?" — But if the graces of 
 
 * Le Due de la Rochefoucault.
 
 286 AURICULAR CONFESSION. 
 
 the person or manner, or the hope of 
 attracting undue attention, add nothing 
 to the skill or worth of the adviser in one 
 case, let us take care they do not in- 
 fluence our choice of the confidant in 
 the other. 
 
 The writer has been induced to hint 
 at the abuse of this practice, from actual 
 instances, in which unsound confidence, 
 and a piety too artificial, by exciting 
 kindness and awakening sympathy, have 
 led to ill-assorted connections, formed 
 on a misconception of the real state of 
 mind of the confessing party. 
 
 These remarks are by no means in- 
 tended to apply to that Christian com- 
 munion at once so profitable and so de- 
 lightful. When the intention is simple, 
 the heart sincere, the motive pure, and 
 the parties suitable, such intercourse can- 
 not but be warmly recommended. The 
 advantage is reciprocal. The doubting 
 and distressed spirit receives the counsel 
 and the consolation it seeks ; while the 
 pious counsellor gains a deeper know-
 
 AURICULAR CONFESSION. 237 
 
 ledge of the human mind in its varieties, 
 by the communication of the wants, the 
 difficulties, and the sense of sin in the 
 contrite heart. In other religious inter- 
 course, where there is a nearer approach 
 of character, the heart is warmed by the 
 expansion, and improved by the inter- 
 change of pious sentiments. The prophet 
 even annexes to it a reward : " They 
 that feared the Lord spake often one to 
 another ; and the Lord hearkened and 
 heard it, and a book of remembrance was 
 written before Him for them that feared 
 the Lord, and that thought upon His 
 name."
 
 238 
 
 UNPROFITABLE READING. 
 
 We have already ventured to allude to 
 the disproportionate quantity of human 
 life which is squandered in the ever mul- 
 tiplying haunts of public dissipation : but 
 as this is an evil too notorious to require 
 any fresh animadversion, we shall not 
 stop to insist on the excess to which it 
 is carried, but shall advert to another, 
 which, if less ostensible, is scarcely less 
 mischievous — we allude to the increased 
 and increasing prevalence of idle reading. 
 For whether a large proportion of our 
 probationary being — time, that precious 
 talent assigned us for providing for the 
 treasures of eternity, — be consumed in 
 unprofitable reading at home, or in fri- 
 volous diversions abroad, the effect on
 
 UNPROFITABLE READING. 239 
 
 the state of the mind is not very dis- 
 similar. The difference between private 
 excess and public intoxication, is not 
 very material as to its effects on the 
 individual : the chief difference lies in 
 the example and the expense ; for the 
 mind is nearly as much unfitted for sober 
 duties by the one, as by the other. 
 
 It is the same principle which in- 
 fluences the inveterate novel-reader, and 
 the never-wearied pursuer of public dissi- 
 pation ; only its operation , is different 
 in different tempers. The active and 
 lively trifler seeks to lose reflection in 
 the bustling crowd ; while the more in- 
 dolent alienates her mind from what is 
 right, without any exertion of the body. 
 In one it is the imagination which is 
 acted upon ; in the other, the senses. 
 In one sense, indeed, the domestic idle- 
 ness is the worst ; because it wraps itself 
 up in its own comparative merit, and 
 complacently reposes on its superior 
 sobriety ; for, if the spirits are more 
 agitated in the one case, in the other
 
 240 UNPROFITABLE READING. 
 
 they sink into a more perilous indolence. 
 The scenes acted over by the imagination 
 in private, have also a superiority in mis- 
 chief over those of actual, busy gaiety 
 in others, as being more likely to be 
 retained and repeated. Instances, how- 
 ever, are not rare, in which a thorough 
 manager contrives to make both meet. 
 In this union the injury is doubled. 
 
 But it will be urged by the too ready 
 advocates, that all these books are not 
 wicked. It is readily granted. Many 
 works of fiction may be read with safety, 
 some even with profit ; but the constant 
 familiarity even with such as are not 
 exceptionable in themselves, relaxes the 
 mind that wants hardening, dissolves the 
 heart which wants fortifying, stirs the 
 imagination which wants quieting, irri- 
 tates the passions which want calming, 
 and, above all, disinclines and disqualifies 
 for active virtues, and for spiritual exer- 
 cises. The habitual indulgence in such 
 reading is a silent, mining mischief. 
 Though there is no act, and no moment,
 
 UNPROFITABLE READING. 241 
 
 in which any open assault on the mind 
 is made, as in the instances previously 
 noticed, yet the constant habit performs 
 the work of a mental atrophy ; it pro- 
 duces all the symptoms of decay, and the 
 danger is not less for being more gradual, 
 and, therefore, less suspected. 
 
 The general manners are becoming 
 more and more relaxed. Even the old 
 restraints, which had a regard to appear- 
 ances, were not without their use P The 
 writer remembers to have heard Dr. 
 Johnson reprove a young lady in severe 
 terms, for quoting a sentiment from Tom 
 Jones — a book, he said, which, if a mo- 
 dest lady had done so improper a thing as 
 to read, she should not do so immodest a 
 thing as to avow. 
 
 Many instances might be adduced to 
 prove, that the age is gradually grown 
 less scrupulous. We will give only one. 
 Another young lady, independent and 
 rich, about the same time was tempted 
 to send for Rousseau's Heloiae. A very 
 little progress in the work convinced 
 
 M
 
 £42 UNPROFITABLE READING. 
 
 her, that it was neither safe for her to 
 read, nor, having read it, could she 
 either modestly confess it, or conscien- 
 tiously deny the perusal, if questioned. 
 Her virtue conquered her curiosity ; she 
 sent away, unread, a book which may 
 now be seen lying openly on the tables 
 of many who would be shocked at the 
 slightest imputation on the delicacy of 
 their minds or the scrupulousness of 
 their morals. 
 
 But to limit the evil of idle reading to 
 the single article of time: — It is, perhaps, 
 not too much to assert, that if the hours 
 spent by the higher and middle classes in 
 this profitless perusal could be counted, 
 they would, probably, far exceed in 
 number those spent by the gay in more 
 ostensible and public dissipation. Nay j 
 we are almost tempted to say, that if, to 
 the account of time dissipated by the 
 latter, were added the hours spent by 
 both classes in acts of devotion and 
 
 
 
 serious reading, perhaps the total aggre- 
 gate would be exceeded in number by
 
 UNPROFITABLE READING. 243 
 
 the hours thrown away in the retirement 
 of idle readers. 
 
 We are the more earnest on this sub- 
 ject, from being in possession of some 
 facts which evince beyond any per- 
 suasions, which confirm beyond any 
 arguments, the perils which we may be 
 thought too warm in deprecating. Among 
 the overflowing number of fictitious writ- 
 ings, not a few are there in the English, 
 and still more and worse in the French 
 and German schools, in which the in- 
 trigue between the already married hero 
 and heroine is opened by means so ap- 
 parently innocent, and conducted so 
 gradually, and with so much plausibility, 
 as, for a time, to escape detection. 
 Vicious scenes are artfully kept out of 
 sight, while virtuous principles are 
 silently, but systematically undermined, 
 till the imagination, that notorious cor- 
 rupter of the heart, has had time to 
 prepare the work of destruction. Such 
 fascinating qualities are lavished on the 
 seducer, and such attractive graces on 
 M 2
 
 244 UNPROFITABLE READING. 
 
 the seduced, that the images indulged 
 with delight by the fancy, carry on the 
 reader imperceptibly to a point which 
 is not so far from their indulgence in 
 the act as some imagine. Such soothing 
 apologies for an amiable weakness, that 
 is, in plain English, for the breach of 
 the seventh Commandment, are made 
 by the writer, that the reader begins 
 to think her judgment is convinced, as 
 well as her inclination gratified ; and the 
 polluted mind, brought into the state, 
 . of all others, the least willing, and the 
 least able, to resist practical crime, is 
 ready to exclaim, with the satirist of 
 political vices, 
 
 That not to be corrupted is the shame. 
 
 By the indulgence of seducing images, 
 as if they sought to disqualify themselves 
 for resistance, they prepare their minds 
 for the surrender of their virtue. Thus 
 the violation of as awful a prohibition as 
 any in the decalogue, is softened down 
 into a pardonable weakness. The stab-
 
 UNPROFITABLE READING. 245 
 
 bing the peace and honour of the hus- 
 band, and the barbarous desertion of 
 the innocent babes, or the still deeper 
 wound given to the grown up daugh- 
 ters, is reduced to a venial fault, for 
 which the irresistibleness of the tempt- 
 ation is shamelessly, but too successfully 
 pleaded. 
 
 In tracing the effect, almost exclu- 
 sively, of the unrestrained indulgence in 
 these soothing pictures of varnished cor- 
 ruption, we could, were it prudent, pro- 
 duce actual instances of this breach of 
 solemn vows, this total abandonment of 
 all the proprieties, and all the duties of 
 life : and it is too probable, that, besides 
 the known instances to which allusion is 
 here made, others might be adduced as 
 having imbibed from the same sources 
 the rudiments of moral misery, which 
 has alarmingly swelled the recent list 
 of divorces, and thus render it more 
 than probable, that the circulating li- 
 brary is no unfrequent road to Doctors' 
 Commons. 
 
 m 3
 
 246 UNPROFITABLE READING. 
 
 There are distinctions and gradations 
 maintained by the squanderers of time 
 in their several ways, of which the well- 
 employed do not perceive the difference. 
 Many who would turn with contempt 
 from the card-table, think little of giving 
 days and nights to these pernicious, or, 
 at best, unimproving fictions — an ex- 
 change without being an improvement j 
 for the volumes do not, like the cards, 
 confine the mischief to the time they are 
 in the hands, but, as we have observed, 
 often leave impressions behind them 
 when the others are forgotten. 
 
 How gladly should we limit these 
 observations to persons whose time is 
 turned to little account, and spent with 
 little scruple, in any amusement which 
 is not obviously corrupt! But it is with 
 real reluctance we take the liberty to 
 animadvert on the same error, though 
 not carried to the same excess, in persons 
 of a higher strain of character, persons 
 of correct manners and considerable at- 
 tainments. Do not many such tolerate
 
 UNPROFITABLE READING. 
 
 in their families abundance of reading, 
 which, to say the least, is not improving, 
 and of which, frequently, this would be 
 too gentle a censure ? Even where the 
 books contain little that is coarse or 
 corrjipt, still it must be repeated, the 
 prodigious quantity of life they consume 
 must exceedingly deduct from that which 
 would otherwise be allotted to more 
 wholesome studies. 
 
 And this is not all. — We hear pas- 
 sages, not the most pure in point of 
 delicacy, and quite unequivocal in point 
 of impiety, repeated with enthusiasm by 
 young ladies, from the works of a noble, 
 but profligate and infidel poet: a poet 
 rich in abused genius, and abounding in 
 talents, ungratefully employed to dis- 
 honour HimVho gave them. — But from 
 the same fair lips, we hear little of Mil- 
 ton and of Spenser, of Cowper and of 
 Young, of Thomson and of Goldsmith, 
 of Gray and of Beattie, names once dear 
 to every lover of enchanting song. Nor 
 need we look back exclusively to depart- 
 m 4>
 
 348 UNPROFITABLE READING. 
 
 ed genius, for the innocent and refreshing 
 delights of poetry. The muses have liv- 
 ing votaries, who pour forth strains at 
 once original, mellifluous, and chaste. 
 
 What shall we presume to say to sober- 
 minded parents, even to grave clergy- 
 men, who not only do not prohibit the 
 authors of the school in question ; who 
 not only do not restrain their daughters 
 from being students in it, but who not 
 unfrequently introduce, as part of the 
 family reading, poetry, which if it con- 
 tain not the gross expressions, and vulgar 
 wickedness of the wits of Charles's days, 
 is little less prophane in principle, or cor- 
 rupt in sentiment ? There is some know- 
 ledge which it is a praise not to know ; 
 and the vice in this case being somewhat 
 " refined through certain* strainers, " 
 furnishes at once a temptation and an 
 apology. 
 
 It may be urged, in vindication of this 
 remissness, that as soon as young persons 
 get out of their parents' hands, they will 
 naturally choose their books for them-
 
 UNPROFITABLE READING. 249 
 
 selves. This is granted. — But is not 
 every year which prolongs their precious 
 innocence, a year gained? May not, 
 within that period, the nascent libertinism 
 be checked, the ardent imagination fixed 
 to other pursuits, the sentiment of virtue 
 kindled, the taste for purity confirmed, 
 and the habit and love of prayer esta- 
 blished ? And, above all, is it not a pity 
 that they should be able hereafter to 
 plead as an apology for their intimacy 
 with such books, that they were intro- 
 duced to them by a fond and careful 
 parent ? 
 
 May we not take the liberty to ask of 
 worthy, but, in this instance, injudicious 
 parents, is this practice quite consistent 
 with the command given to fathers, even 
 under a darker dispensation, that they 
 should not limit the improvement of their 
 children to any set hours, but that they 
 should " teach them diligently, sitting 
 in the house, and walking by the way, 
 rising up, and lying down ? " 
 
 M 5
 
 Q5Q 
 
 THE BORDERERS. 
 
 Religion, and the world, used formerly 
 to be considered as two different regions, 
 situated separate and apart from each 
 other. They seldom maintained much 
 unnecessary intercourse. One party 
 shuddered at the strictness and severity 
 of the other j which, in its turn, kept 
 aloof from a communication which it 
 feared might contaminate its own purity. 
 Between them lay a kind of neutral 
 ground, which, though it divided them, 
 was however occasionally passed during 
 any short interval of peace, for offices of 
 necessity, of business, or of kindness ; 
 offices which, nevertheless, produced at 
 no time entire reconciliation.
 
 THE BORDERERS. 251 
 
 This neutral territory has been lately 
 seized upon and occupied by a third 
 party, a civil, obliging, and accommo- 
 dating people, who are so perfectly well- 
 bred, as to be desirous of keeping well 
 with their neighbours on both sides the. 
 boundary. They are invited to inti- 
 macy by the gratifications held out by 
 the one, and the reputation conferred by 
 the other ; present indulgence tempts on 
 the left, future hope on the right. The 
 present good, however, is generally too 
 powerful a competitor for the future. 
 They not only struggle to maintain their 
 own interest in both countries, but are 
 kindly desirous of accommodating all 
 differences between the belligerent 
 powers. Their situation, as borderers, 
 gives them great local advantages on 
 both sides. Though they keep on the 
 same good terms with both, they have 
 the useful and engaging talent, of seem- 
 ing to belong exclusively to that party 
 in which they happen to find them- 
 selves. 
 
 m 6
 
 252 THE BORDERERS. 
 
 Their chief difficulty arises when they 
 happen to meet the inhabitants of both 
 territories together ; yet so ingenious are 
 they in the art of trimming, that they 
 contrive not to lose much ground with 
 either. 
 
 When alone with one party, they take 
 care never to speak warmly of the absent. 
 With the worldly they smile, and per- 
 haps good-naturedly shake their head at 
 some little scruples, and some excess of 
 strictness in the absent party, though 
 they do not go the length of actual cen- 
 sure. 
 
 When with the religious colony, they 
 tenderly lament the necessity imposed 
 on them of being obliged to associate so 
 much with neighbours from whom, they 
 confess, there is not much to be learned, 
 while they own there is something to be 
 feared ; but, as they are quite sure their 
 inclination is not of the party, they trust 
 there is no great danger. They regret 
 that as they must live on terms with the 
 world, they cannot, without a singularity
 
 THE BORDERERS. 253 
 
 to which ridicule would attach, avoid 
 adopting some of their manners and 
 customs. — Thus they think it prudent 
 to indulge in the same habits of luxury 
 and expense ; to conform to many of the 
 same practices, doubtful at the best ; and 
 to attend on some places of diversion, 
 for which, indeed, they profess to feel no 
 great relish, and which, for the sake of 
 propriety, are rather submitted to than 
 enjoyed ! " One would not be particular, 
 one does no good by singularity." 
 
 By an invariable discretion, they thus 
 gain the confidence and regard of both 
 parties. The old settlers on the fashion- 
 able side are afraid of losing them, by 
 opposition to their occasionally joining 
 their enemies ; while the religious colo- 
 nies are desirous of retaining them, and 
 rendering them service by courtesy and 
 kindness, still charitably hoping their in- 
 tentions are right, and their compliances 
 reluctant. — Thus their borders are every 
 day extending, and their population in- 
 creasing. As they can speak, as occa-
 
 254 THE BORDERERS. 
 
 sion requires, the language of both coun- 
 tries, they have the advantage of appear- 
 ing to be always at home with each, who 
 never suspect that the same facility in the 
 dialect of the other, equally secures their 
 popularity there. 
 
 In one respect, they carefully comply 
 with the Apostle's injunction, applying 
 to it, however, a meaning of their own, 
 " They let their moderation be known 
 unto all men." They scrupulously avoid 
 extremes. They keep a kind of debtor 
 and creditor account with religion and 
 the world, punctually paying themselves 
 for some practice they renounce, by 
 adopting some other which is a shade or 
 two lighter : between these shades they 
 discriminate nicely ; and the pride they 
 feel in what they have given up, is more 
 sincere than the gratification at what they 
 retain. 
 
 Thus, though hovering on the borders 
 of both countries, they do not penetrate 
 into the depths of either. The latitude 
 they happen to be cast in varies accord-
 
 THE BORDERERS. Z55 
 
 ing to circumstances. An awakening 
 sermon will drive them, for a time, beyond 
 the usual geographical degree ; an amusing 
 novel, or a new Canto of Childe Harold, 
 will seduce them to retreat. Their in- 
 tentions, however, they flatter themselves, 
 are generally on the right side, while 
 their movements are too frequently on 
 the other. 
 
 But though their language can accom- 
 modate itself to both parties, their per- 
 sonal appearance is entirely under the 
 direction of one of them. In their ex- 
 ternal decorations, they are not behind 
 the foremost of their fashionable friends ; 
 and truth obliges us reluctantly to con- 
 fess, that their dress is as little confined 
 within the bounds of strict delicacy, as 
 that of women the rest of whose conduct 
 is more exceptionable. The consequence 
 is not unnatural ; for to those who must 
 do like other people, it is also necessary 
 to look like other people. It does, how- 
 ever, seem a little incongruous, to hear 
 the language of one of the countries 
 5
 
 256 THE BORDERERS. 
 
 spoken, even with a strong accent, by 
 ladies in the full costume of the other. 
 
 These borderers are frequently disposed 
 to be benevolent, partly from a warm 
 temperament, partly from a conviction 
 that charity is a duty. They profess 
 to give whatever they can spare, but of 
 that proportion they allow vanity, and 
 not piety, to be the arbiter. If personal 
 ornament, if habits of luxury, did not 
 swallow up their money, charity would 
 have it. Charity is the next best thing 
 to self-gratification. 
 
 Should they continue their present 
 course, and their numbers increase, or, 
 as is commonly the case, should continual 
 motion accelerate progress, the land- 
 marks of separation between the several 
 countries will insensibly be lost, and it 
 will be difficult to define the exact limit- 
 ations of the invading neighbours. 
 
 It has frequently been regretted that 
 an amicable accommodation between the 
 adverse parties could not be accom- 
 plished by the interference of this inter- 
 6
 
 THE BORDERERS. 257 
 
 mediate region. But whenever it has 
 been attempted, it has not always been 
 successful. The coalition, it has been 
 found, could not readily be brought 
 about. Prejudices on the one part, and 
 rigorous demands on the other, have 
 hitherto perpetuated the separation. 
 
 Terms of peace, indeed, cannot easily 
 be made where one side expects so many 
 sacrifices, and where the other has so 
 much that must be parted with. The 
 worldly territory having, beyond all com- 
 parison, the larger population, is of course 
 the stronger, and therefore most likely to 
 hold out. 
 
 But though no actual flag of truce has 
 yet been sent out for a general peace, 
 yet alliances are frequently contracted 
 between individuals of the hostile coun- 
 tries, but on very unequal terms ; for it 
 unfortunately happens that the party from 
 the more correct side, " who come out 
 to visit the daughters of the land," have 
 been seduced by the cheerful music, 
 splendid banners, and gay attractions of
 
 258 THE BORDERERS. 
 
 the other ; and have been prevailed upon 
 to settle in the enemy's camp. To them 
 it more frequently happens that they 
 gradually forget all they learnt in their 
 father's house, and insensibly adopt the 
 manners of the strange country, than 
 that they bring over the other party to 
 their side. It may, therefore, perhaps be 
 safer not to contract these unholy alliances, 
 till there is a conquest obtained by the 
 small territory over the great one; an 
 event which, if we may judge by the 
 present state of the parties, seems at a 
 very considerable distance. 
 
 But enough, and perhaps the scrupu- 
 lous Christian will say, too much, of this 
 light manner of treating a serious sub- 
 ject. We acknowledge the charge ; we 
 bow to the correction : confessing that 
 we scarcely knew how to approach this 
 important and interesting class of persons, 
 without the thin veil of something be- 
 tween fiction and fact, between allegory 
 and true history. We felt an almost
 
 THE BORDERERS. 239 
 
 sinful reluctance to say any thing which 
 might seem revolting to these pleasing 
 characters who have shewn some dispo- 
 sition to religion, who love its disciples, 
 without having courage to imitate them. 
 But real concern for their best interests 
 will not allow those who assume to advo- 
 cate the cause of Christianity, to conceal 
 the distance at which they at present 
 appear to stand from its constraining 
 power, and from its practical conse- 
 quences. 
 
 Perhaps your creed is not very erro- 
 neous. Probably the rectitude of your 
 religious friends, whose doctrines are 
 sound, and the indifference of your 
 fashionable friends, who " care for none 
 of these things," have preserved you 
 pretty clear from errors of opinion. 
 Whilst the occasional society of the pious 
 has kept your sentiments in order, the 
 amusements of the worldly have indem- 
 nified you for the severities of the other 
 quarter. But opinions do little till they 
 are ripened into principles. It is re-
 
 260 THE BORDERERS. 
 
 putable to say with one party, " straight 
 is the gate and narrow is the way ;" but 
 the company of the other lets you see that 
 it is not so easy to enter in at that gate, 
 and to walk in that way, as you had flat- 
 tered yourself you should have found it. 
 
 To you the world is by far the most 
 formidable foe of the triple alliance, of 
 the three confederate enemies, which the 
 Scripture tells us war against the soul. 
 We have presumed that your opinions 
 may not be very erroneous, but there are 
 moral as well as speculative heresies, of 
 which worldliness is the originating prin- 
 ciple, and in which it is the practical 
 operator. The world is the grand 
 heresiarch. There are many more who 
 " love the world, and the things of the 
 world," than who care whether doc- 
 trines are true or false. While they 
 themselves are let alone to follow their 
 own devices ; while they are left undis- 
 turbed to their own pursuits ; you may 
 propound or controvert, or adopt any 
 opinion, sound or heretical, with equally
 
 THE BORDERERS. 261 
 
 little danger, with equally little benefit to 
 them. 
 
 To the devotee of pleasure there is 
 something harsh and repulsive in doc- 
 trines and dogmas j to take part with 
 them would be going out of the way : 
 while to those who can contrive to make 
 right opinions live on friendly terms with 
 wrong practices, it would be a gratuitous 
 folly to add to the faults of conduct the 
 errors of speculation. 
 
 In this affectionate remonstrance, we 
 allude not to what might be called pal- 
 pable and tangible offences ; these the 
 decorums of their condition set them 
 above any temptation to commit. We 
 speak not of any disbelief or contempt 
 of religion ; these are not the immediate 
 perils of their position : it is not infidelity 
 but indifference — a disinclination to 
 Christianity, not as opposed to unbelief, 
 but as it contradicts the maxims, the 
 manners, the habits of their associates. 
 Their danger consists in a supreme at- 
 tachment to present objects, and a neglect
 
 262 THE BORDERERS. 
 
 of such as are future ; it consists in pre- 
 ferring the pleasures and the interests of 
 the world to the service of Him who 
 made it. They are governed by other 
 principles than those of that gospel which 
 has proclaimed that " the friendship of 
 the world is enmity against God." They 
 are influenced by its opinions, misled 
 by its example, enslaved by its amuse- 
 ments j they fear lest any deviation from 
 its prescribed code should bring their 
 good sense and good taste in question ; 
 lest withdrawing from its practices should 
 bring on them the imputation of narrow- 
 ness or enthusiasm. In short, they go 
 with " the multitude that keep holiday/' 
 not, indeed, in the scriptural sense, but 
 in direct conformity to the vulgar accept- 
 ation of that term. 
 
 Worldly allurements find in the un- 
 renewed heart a willingness to meet 
 them, a disposition accommodated to 
 them by temperament, a readiness to 
 pursue them, increased by habit. The 
 natural heart is already on the world's
 
 THE BORDERERS. 263 
 
 side. Before the world has time to 
 begin its attack, the citadel is disposed to 
 yield. Before the assault is made, there 
 is a mutual good understanding, a silent 
 connivance between the besiegers and 
 the besieged. As soon as the trenches 
 are opened, the disposition to parley and 
 to submit is nearly the same act. 
 
 You appeared, however, to take the 
 first step in what is right, by occasionally 
 joining religious society, and by the plea- 
 sure you expressed in it. By that intro- 
 duction you seemed not undesirous of 
 ranging yourself partly on that side. 
 Having broken through that first ob- 
 struction, it was hoped that every subse- 
 quent step would have become less 
 irksome. 
 
 That religion has its difficulties, we 
 do not pretend to deny j but, with a 
 hearty concurrence of the will, nurtured 
 by cordial prayer, strengthened by a 
 full reliance on the Saviour, and sus- 
 tained by the aid of His Spirit, which 
 is offered you, the difficulties will daily
 
 264 THE BORDERERS. 
 
 diminish. Rest not, then, in that low 
 state of religion which is satisfied with 
 the hope of escaping punishment ; calcu- 
 late not how small a measure may suffice 
 to effect that escape. Search not out for 
 an imaginary intermediate state between 
 the children of wrath and the children 
 of God. Rest not till you have attained 
 that entire consecration of heart, whose 
 Object, aim, and end is eternal life. 
 Forget not that they who run in a race, 
 though they may come closer to the 
 goal, yet, if they come short of it, fail 
 of the prize as completely as those com- 
 petitors whose distance is greater; and, 
 if we come short of heaven, whether 
 we lose it by more or fewer steps, the 
 failure is equally decisive, the loss equally 
 irreparable. 
 
 Those worldly persons with whom 
 you associate are intrenched on every 
 side by numbers ; they therefore act as 
 if they thought that the evil, supposing 
 it to be evil, which is shared among so 
 many, cannot be injurious to the indi-
 
 THE BORDERERS. 265 
 
 vidual ; forgetting that every man must 
 bear his own burden, and suffer for his 
 own sin j for, though multitudes may 
 give countenance to your errors here, 
 they will not answer for you hereafter. 
 
 Do not follow those who have no 
 settled course of their own — who are 
 hurried to and from by every breath of 
 custom — whom fashion leadeth whither- 
 soever it listeth. The persons against 
 whom we would guard you, though con- 
 fident, are not without their fears ; but it 
 is worth observing, that their fears sel- 
 dom lie on the same side with their 
 dangers. They fear not great practical 
 errors j these they soften down and treat 
 with complacency; these are tenderly 
 mentioned as the infirmities of nature — 
 weaknesses to which we are all liable. 
 Almost every excess in personal gratifi- 
 cation is thus kindly palliated: " Why 
 did God give us both the disposition, and 
 the means to indulge it, if indulgence 
 were a sin ?" There is but one excess 
 they guard against — an excess, indeed, 
 
 N
 
 26t) THE BORDERERS. 
 
 of which they are in little danger, — we 
 mean a high degree of religion; for 
 surely excess is little to be feared, where 
 the thing has not yet even been entered 
 upon ! 
 
 Be assured, that whatever serves to 
 keep the heart from God, is one and the 
 same spirit of irreligion, whether it ap- 
 pear in the shape of coarse vice, or 
 whether it is softened by the smoothness 
 of decorum, and the blandishments of 
 jDolished life. We are far from com- 
 paring them together, as if they were 
 equally injurious to society, or equally 
 offensive to decency ; but we must com- 
 pare them together as equally drawing 
 away the heart from the worship and the 
 love of God. Courteousness, which is 
 unaccompanied by principle, will stand 
 the most courteous in no stead, with Him 
 who is a discerner of the thoughts and 
 intents of the heart. 
 
 Some of these well-bred persons, who 
 exercise this large and liberal candour 
 towards practical offences, and treat with
 
 THE BORDERERS. 267 
 
 tenderness certain vices, not thought 
 disreputable by the world, and who even 
 put a favourable construction on things 
 very unjustifiable in the sight of God, 
 lose all their kindness, put no favourable 
 interpretation, when sound religion is 
 in question. They are, indeed, too 
 discreet to reprobate it under its own 
 proper name, but the ready appellation 
 of enthusiasm presents itself — is always 
 at hand to vindicate the hastiest judg- 
 ment, and the most contemptuous con- 
 struction. 
 
 But though we think far better things 
 of you, whom we are addressing, yet 
 may you not, in this society, be tempted 
 to disavow, or, at least, to conceal, even 
 the measure of piety you actually have, 
 for fear of exciting that dreaded sus- 
 picion, of "being righteous over-much?" 
 May not this fear, strengthened by this 
 society, keep you back till your pious 
 tendencies, by being suppressed, may 
 gradually come to be extinguished ? 
 
 We are ready to acknowledge, and 
 n 2
 
 26*8 THE BORDERERS. 
 
 to love, all that is amiable in you j but 
 we must not forget, that the fairest and 
 most brilliant creature, the most en- 
 gaging manners, and the most accom- 
 plished mind, stand in the same need 
 of repentance, forsaking of sin, redemp- 
 tion by the Son of God, and renovation 
 by His Spirit, as the least attractive. 
 The more engaging the manners, and 
 the more interesting the acquirements, 
 the more is it to be lamented, that those 
 very attractions, by your complacency in 
 them, may have stood between you and 
 heaven, — may, by your resting in them, 
 have been the cause of your not pressing 
 towards the mark for the prize of your 
 high calling of God in Christ Jesus. 
 
 Bear, then, in mind, that you may 
 be pleasing to others, while you have 
 an unsanctified heart; that politeness, 
 though it may put on the appearance 
 of humility, is but a poor imitation of 
 that ,prime grace ; that good breeding, 
 though the beautiful decoration of a pious
 
 THE BORDERERS. 269 
 
 mind, is but a wretched substitute for 
 the want of it. 
 
 Be assured, however, at the same time, 
 that true religion will in no wise di- 
 minish your natural or acquired graces ; 
 so far from it, those graces will be more 
 estimable; they will be even more ad- 
 mired, when they are known not to 
 be the best things you have. When 
 you set less value on them yourself, 
 they will be more pleasing to others ; 
 who, though they will not estimate them 
 above their worth, will not depreciate 
 them below it. 
 
 We are persuaded that you are too 
 reasonable to expect that Christianity 
 will change its character, or lower its 
 requirements, or make the straight gate 
 wider, or the narrow way broader, or 
 hold out false colours, in order to induce 
 you to embrace it. It is not that easy 
 and superficial thing which some sup- 
 pose, as requiring little more than a 
 ceremonious attendance on its forms, 
 and a freedom from the gross violation 
 n 3
 
 270 THE BORDERERS. 
 
 of its commands. This may be nominal, 
 but it is not saving Christianity. It is 
 not that spiritual, yet practical religion, 
 for which the Son of God endured the 
 cross, that He might establish it in the 
 hearts of His followers, — which He is 
 pleading with His Heavenly Father to 
 establish in your heart. He did not suf- 
 fer that His children might be excused 
 from self-denial; nor that, because He 
 was holy, they might be negligent. He 
 suffered, that " the women that are at ease 
 might rise up ; that the careless daughters 
 might hear His voice, and give ear unto 
 His word." — He, who divinely addressed 
 fallen creatures, knew that a half-resist- 
 ance was no resistance ; and therefore 
 never proposed to them half-measures. 
 He knew that it was not enough to com- 
 mand us to shut the eye, and to arrest the 
 hand. The command is radical. It ex- 
 tends in the one case to plucking out, in* 
 the other to excision. 
 
 If you are disposed to think that what 
 you must give up is great, compare it
 
 THE BORDERERS. Qfl 
 
 with what you will gain, and you will be 
 ashamed of your miscalculation ; you 
 will think the sacrifice as small as the 
 objects sacrificed were worthless 5 for 
 Christianity, though a self-denying prin- 
 ciple, yet denies you nothing which, even 
 now, adds to your real happiness. It 
 only disenchants you from an illusion, and 
 gives you substantial peace in exchange. 
 It will rob you of nothing which good 
 sense and sound reason do not condemn, 
 as well as the New Testament. 
 
 Perhaps you have just religion enough 
 to render you occasionally uneasy. The 
 struggle between the claims of the world 
 and your casual convictions, is far from 
 being a happy state. The flattery which 
 delights, misleads the diversions which 
 amuse will not console : the prospect 
 which promises, disappoints. Continue 
 not, then, " working in the fire for very 
 vanity." Labour not to reconcile two 
 interests, which, spite of your endeavours, 
 will ever remain irreconcileable. The 
 n 4
 
 272 THE BORDERERS. 
 
 single eye cannot be fixed on two objects 
 at once. 
 
 A life governed by Christianity differs 
 in every thing from the worldly system. 
 It is free from the turbulence and the 
 agitation of its pursuits : it has none of 
 the anxieties and jealousies of its com- 
 petitions ; consequently none of the las- 
 situde and the vexation of its disappoint- 
 ing results. The further you proceed in 
 its paths of pleasantness, the pleasanter 
 they become. Its difficulties diminish, 
 its delights increase. It has pleasures of 
 its own, higher and better ; satisfactions 
 which depend not on human admiration, 
 but on His favour whom to know is 
 eternal life. 
 
 Continue not, then, to live as if the 
 great end for which you were sent into 
 the world was already accomplished. 
 Continue not to act as if you thought you 
 had done all for which God gave you an 
 intelligent mind, reasoning faculties, as- 
 piring thoughts, capacities for endless 
 happiness. Let not those powers which
 
 THE BORDERERS. 273 
 
 were meant to fit you, not only for the so- 
 ciety of angels, but for the vision of God, 
 be any longer wasted on objects the most 
 frivolous ; on things which, at best, must 
 end when this world ends. Oh ! re- 
 nounce pursuits, some of them below a 
 rational, unsuited to an accountable, and 
 altogether unworthy of a never-ending 
 being ! Renounce them for objects more 
 becoming a candidate for an inheritance 
 among the saints in light, better adapted 
 to an immaterial, immortal spirit, and 
 commensurate with eternity. 
 
 n 5
 
 M
 
 REFLECTIONS 
 
 ON 
 
 PRAYER, 
 
 AND 
 
 ON THE ERRORS WHICH MAY 
 PREVENT ITS EFFICACY. 
 
 N 6
 
 ' 

 
 277 
 
 oil I. 
 
 ON THE CORRUPTION OF HUMAN 
 NATURE. 
 
 The most original French writer oi' our 
 own time, but who employed his powerful 
 talents to the most pernicious purposes, 
 abruptly begins his once popular work 
 on education with this undeniable truth, 
 i — " All is good as it comes out of the 
 hands of God, all is corrupted in the 
 hands of man." 
 
 In his first position, this sceptic bears 
 a just testimony to the goodness of his 
 Creator ; but the second clause, his sub- 
 sequent application of it, though also a 
 truth, is not the whole truth. He as- 
 cribes all the evils of man to the errors of 
 his institution.
 
 278 ON THE CORRUPTION 
 
 Now, though it cannot be denied that 
 many of his faults are owing to a defect 
 in education, yet his prime evil lies 
 deeper, is radical, and must be traced to 
 a more remote and definite cause. 
 
 Had the writer been as enlightened 
 as he was ingenious, he would have seen 
 that the principle of evil was antecedent 
 to his education ; that it is to be found 
 in the inborn corruption of the human 
 heart. If, then, from an infidel, we are 
 willing to borrow an avowal of the good- 
 ness of God in the creation of man, we 
 must look to higher authorities to account 
 for his degeneracy, even to the sacred 
 oracles of God himself. 
 
 The subject of man's apostacy is so 
 nearly connected with the subject of 
 prayer, being indeed that which con- 
 stitutes the necessity of this duty, that 
 some mention of the one ought to pre- 
 cede any discussion of the other. Let, 
 then, the conviction, that we are fallen 
 from our original state, and that this 
 lapse furnishes the most powerful in-
 
 OF HUMAN NATUBE. 279 
 
 centive to prayer, furnish an apology for 
 making a few preliminary remarks on 
 this doctrine. 
 
 The doctrine is not the less a funda- 
 mental doctrine, because it has been 
 abused to the worst purposes ; some hav- 
 ing considered it as leaving us without 
 hope, and others, as lending an excuse to 
 unresisted sin. — It is a doctrine which 
 meets us in one unbroken series through- 
 out the whole sacred volume ; we find it 
 from the third of Genesis, which records 
 the event of man's apostacy, carried on 
 through the history of its fatal conse- 
 quences in all the subsequent instances 
 of sin, individual and national, and run- 
 ning in one continued stream from the 
 first sad tale of woe, to the close of the 
 sacred canon in the Apocalyptic Vision. 
 i And, to remove the groundless hope, 
 that this quality of inherent corruption 
 belonged only to the profligate and 
 abandoned, the Divine Inspirer of the 
 sacred writers took especial care, that 
 •
 
 280 ON THE CORRUPTION 
 
 they should not confine themselves to 
 relate the sins of these alone. 
 
 Why are the errors, the weaknesses, 
 and even the crimes of the best men re- 
 corded with equal fidelity ? Why are we 
 told of the twice repeated deceit of the 
 father of the faithful? Why of the 
 single instance of vanity in Hezekiah? 
 Why of the too impetuous zeal of Elijah ? 
 Why of the error of the almost perfect 
 Moses ? Why of the insincerity of 
 Jacob ? Why of the far darker crimes of 
 the otherwise holy David ? Why of the 
 departure of the wisest of men from that 
 piety, displayed with sublimity unparal- 
 leled in the dedication of the Temple ? 
 Why seems it to have been invariably 
 studied, to record with more minute de- 
 tail the vices and errors of these eminent 
 men, than even those of the successive 
 impious kings of Israel, and of Judah ; 
 while these last are generally dismissed 
 with the brief, but melancholy sentence, 
 that they did that which was evil in the 
 sight of the Lord ; followed only by too 
 
 5
 
 OF HUMAN NATURE. 281 
 
 frequent an intimation, that they made 
 way for a successor worse than them- 
 selves ? The answer is, that the truth of 
 our universal lapse could only be proved 
 by transmitting the record of those vices, 
 from which even the holiest men were 
 not exempt. 
 
 And as these affecting details unan- 
 swerably establish the truth of the 
 doctrine, so they are not recorded for 
 barren doctrinal information. They are 
 fecorded to furnish Christians of every 
 age with salutary caution, with awful 
 warning. 
 
 Surely the best man among us will 
 hardly venture to say that he is more 
 holy than Abraham, Moses, David, or 
 Peter. If, then, these saints exhibited 
 such evidences of not having escaped the 
 universal infection, will not every reflect- 
 ing child of mortality yield to the con- 
 viction, that this doctrine is as true as the 
 history which has recorded it ? Will he 
 not proceed further to say, " How then 
 shall I be high-minded ? How shall I not
 
 282 ON THE CORRUPTION 
 
 fear ? How shall I deny the cause of the 
 evil tendencies of my own heart, the sins 
 of my own life, the thoughts of foolish- 
 ness, and the actings of iniquity within 
 myself?" And will not such serious 
 enquiry, by God's grace, acting on the 
 study of the characters of these highly 
 eminent, but not perfect worthies of old 
 times, patriarchs, prophets, and saints, 
 lead the enquirer, through the redemption 
 wrought for all, and faith in the operation 
 of the blessed Spirit, to that effectual 
 repentance, and fervent prayer, to which, 
 in this same Divine history, such gracious 
 promises are made ? 
 
 Had the Holy Scriptures kept back 
 from man the faithful delineations of the 
 illustrious characters to which we have 
 referred, the truth of the doctrine in 
 question, though occasionally felt, and 
 in spite of his resistance, forced upon 
 him, would not have been believed j or, 
 if believed, would not have been ac- 
 knowledged. 
 
 It is, then, one great end of the oracles
 
 OP HUMAN NATURE. 283 
 
 of Divine truth, to humble man, under 
 a sense of his inherent and actual cor- 
 ruptions. The natural man feels it re- 
 pugnant to his pride to suppose this 
 doctrine is addressed to him. 
 
 It is very true, that this all-important 
 doctrine of human corruption, is, like 
 many other truths, both in the natu- 
 ral, moral, and spiritual world, liable to 
 certain speculative objections, and meta- 
 physical difficulties. Laying hold on 
 these, which, often, a child might dis- 
 cover, and no philosopher be able to 
 answer, even upon merely philosophical 
 principles, we excuse ourselves alto- 
 gether from studying the Divine book ; 
 and fearful, in secret, of the discoveries 
 we should make, pretend that its Au- 
 thor has left truth so obscure, as to 
 be impervious to human eyes ; or so 
 lofty, as to be above human reach. 
 
 But is it not making God unjust, and 
 even the author of that sin which he 
 charges on ourselves, to suppose that 
 he had put truth and knowledge out
 
 284 ON THE CORRUPTION 
 
 of our reach, and then threatened to 
 punish us for failing in that which he 
 himself had made impossible? Is it 
 probable that He, whose eyes you 
 say are so pure, that he cannot look 
 upon iniquity, should tolerate it, by 
 tying our hands, and blinding our eyes, 
 and thus abandon us to the unrestrained 
 dominion of that which he hates? 
 
 The only real question which concerns 
 us in our present imperfect and proba- 
 tionary state, is this : — Are the state- 
 ments of revelation sufficient to establish 
 this or that doctrine ? And is the doc- 
 trine so established a sufficient ground 
 for the duties required ? If this be 
 answered in the affirmative, then to ask 
 for fewer difficulties, clearer light, or 
 stronger motives to action, is only to 
 enter a vain contest with Almighty 
 wisdom, and Divine supremacy. Our 
 present disobedience proves that more 
 light would only increase our guilt, 
 stronger motives would only render u%
 
 OF HUMAN NATURE. 285 
 
 more inexcusable. We should reject 
 then what we neglect now. To refuse 
 what we now have, is not for want of 
 light, but of eyes : not for want of mo- 
 tives, but of faith ; not for want of rules, 
 but of obedience ; not for want of know- 
 ledge, but of will. Let us then pity 
 those blind eyes which do not see, and 
 especially those wilful eyes which will 
 not see. 
 
 The Christian revelation, as far as re- 
 spects its professed practical purpose, is 
 brought within the reach of the plainest 
 understanding. We speak of the Gospel 
 itself, and not of those metaphysical 
 perplexities with which the schools have 
 endeavoured to meet metaphysical ob- 
 jections ; we speak of the fundamental 
 truths on which God has made salvation 
 to depend. The unlettered Christian 
 lays hold on these truths which the phi- 
 losopher misses. The former looks to 
 the Holy Spirit for his teacher, the latter 
 to his own understanding. The one lives 
 holily, and thus, " by doing the will of
 
 286 ON THE CORRUPTION 
 
 God, he comes to know of the doctrine 
 whether it be of God." 
 
 Christianity hangs on a few plain 
 truths ; " that God is, and that he is the 
 re warder of all that seek him ; " that man 
 has apostatised from his original charac- 
 ter, and by it has forfeited his original 
 destination ; that Christ came into this 
 world and died upon the cross to expiate 
 sin, and to save sinners ; that after his 
 ascension into Heaven, he did not leave 
 his work imperfect. He sent his Holy 
 Spirit, who performed his first office by 
 giving to the Apostles miraculous powers. 
 His offices did not cease there ; he has 
 indeed withdrawn his miraculous gifts, 
 but he still continues his silent but pow- 
 erful operations, and that in their "due 
 order, — first, that of convincing of sin, 
 and of changing the heart of the sinner, 
 before he assumes the gracious character 
 of the Comforter. What need, then, of 
 heresies to perplex doctrines, or of phi- 
 losophy to entangle, or of will-worship- 
 pers to multiply them ? 
 12
 
 OF HUMAN NATURE. 287 
 
 We do not deny that there are, in 
 Christianity, high and holy mysteries ; 
 but these " secret things," though they 
 " belong to God," have their practical 
 uses for us ; they teach us humility, the 
 prime Christian grace ; and they exer- 
 cise faith, the parent attribute of ail 
 other graces. 
 
 This religion of facts, then, the poor- 
 est listeners in the isles of our churches 
 understand sufficiently, to be made by it 
 wise unto salvation. They are saved by 
 a practical belief of a few simple, but in- 
 estimable truths. 
 
 By these same simple truths, martyrs 
 and confessors, our persecuted saints, and 
 our blessed reformers, were saved. By 
 these few simple truths, Locke, and Boyle, 
 and Newton, were saved ; not because 
 they saw their religion through the glass 
 of their philosophy, but because theirs 
 was not " a philosophy, falsely so called ;" 
 nor their science, " a science of opposi- 
 tion ; " but a science and a philosophy 
 which were made subservient to Christi-
 
 288 ON THE CORRUPTION 
 
 anity, and because their deep humility 
 sanctified their astonishing powers of 
 mind. These wonderful men, at whose 
 feet the learned world is still satisfied to 
 sit, sat themselves at the feet of Jesus. 
 Had there been any other way but the 
 cross by which sinners could be saved, 
 they, perhaps of all men, were best qua- 
 lified to have found it. 
 
 The wise and the weak, the illiterate 
 and the learned, cannot, indeed, equally 
 discuss or expound these doctrines, but 
 they are equally saved by them. In view 
 of the simple means of salvation, talents 
 lose their superiority, learning its dignity, 
 and power its pre-eminence. While the 
 sober Christian keeps on his safe, because 
 prescribed course ; the wise, and the dis- 
 puter of this world, by deserting it fall 
 into absurdities which plain men escape ; 
 they make the difficulties they do not 
 find, and wander in the endless mazes of 
 presumptuous deviation. 
 
 To return, then, to the particular 
 doctrine under consideration: — Let us
 
 OF HUMAN NATURE. 289 
 
 believe man is corrupt, because the Bible 
 tells us he is so. Let us believe that 
 all were so by nature, even the best, 
 since we learn it from the Divine source. 
 Let us from the same authority, trace 
 the disorder to its source from a fallen 
 parent, its seat in a corrupted heart, its 
 extent through the whole man, its uni- 
 versality over the entire race. 
 
 All are willing to allow that we are 
 subject to frailties, to imperfections, to 
 infirmities ; facts compel us to confess 
 a propensity to crimes, but worldly men 
 confine the commission of them to the 
 vulgar. But to rest here would lead us 
 to a very false estimate of the doctrine in 
 question, contrary to the decisive lan- 
 guage of Scripture; it would establish 
 corruption to be an accident, and not a 
 root. It would, by a division of offenders 
 into two classes, deny that all offences are 
 derived from one common principle. 
 
 Among the higher ranks there is little 
 temptation to the commission of certain 
 sins; murder is rare, fraud uncommon, 
 o
 
 290 ON THE CORRUPTION 
 
 robbery not found, yet the inborn prin- 
 ciple is the same in all. Circumstances, 
 rank, education, example, reputation, 
 give advantages to one class, which, had 
 they changed places, might have led to 
 the vices so common in the other ; while, 
 had the notorious offenders against the 
 laws and the Divine Law-giver, changed 
 situations with their superiors, we should 
 then have heard only of their imperfec- 
 tions, their infirmities, their frailties. 
 
 Temptation does not make the sin, 
 it lies ready in the heart. Accident does 
 not create the propensity, it only brings 
 it into action. It destroys the plea of 
 exemption from natural corruption, but 
 it does not put that corruption into the 
 heart. - It was there before, ready, with- 
 out the grace of God, ready, without the 
 restraint of religion, ready, without the 
 bridle of an enlightened conscience, to 
 break out into any excess. Yet there 
 are many flagrant offences against God 
 and against human laws, which the high- 
 born and the high-bred frequently com-
 
 OF HUMAN NATURE. 291 
 
 mit with as little scruple as the lowest. 
 The frequency of duelling, the breach of 
 the seventh commandment, two offences 
 frequently found in the same company, 
 gaming, the violation of the Sabbath, 
 with other enormities, would alone suffi- 
 ciently prove the principle to exist, inde- 
 pendently of rank, education, or fortune. 
 Are not what, by way of distinction, we 
 may call the metaphysical or spiritual 
 sins, which are cherished without loss of 
 character — is not ambition, which knows 
 no bounds, — envy, which knows no rest, 
 — avarice, which destroys all feeling, — 
 jealousy, which is its own tormentor, — 
 ill-temper, which is the tormentor of 
 others, — ungoverned anger, which is 
 murder in its first seed ; are not all these 
 equally to be found in the high-born and 
 the low-bred? Again, is not sensuality 
 in the great, which, in the case of the 
 poor, might have produced unfair means 
 to indulge it, — is not the love of splen- 
 dour and ostentation, which are thought 
 to add dignity to the rich, the very prin- 
 o 2
 
 292 ON THE CORRUPTION 
 
 ciple which leads the necessitous to 
 forgery, the crime for which so many are 
 now suffering capital punishment ? 
 
 If, then, men would examine their own 
 bosoms as closely, as they censure the 
 faults of others loudly, we should all find 
 there the incipient stirrings of many a 
 sin, which, when brought into action, by 
 the temptations of poverty, of ignorance, 
 of unresisted passion, produce conse- 
 quences the most appalling. Let us then 
 bless God, not that we are better than 
 other men, but that we are placed by Pro- 
 vidence out of the reach of being goaded 
 by that temptation, stimulated by that 
 poverty, which, had they been our lot, 
 might have led to the same termination. 
 
 Let, then, the fear of God, the know- 
 ledge of his word, and the knowledge of 
 ourselves, teach us that there is not, by 
 nature, so wide a difference between our- 
 selves and the men we abhor as we fondly 
 fancy; that there is not, by nature, a 
 great gulf fixed, that they who are on 
 this side might not have passed over to
 
 OT HUMAN NATURE. 203 
 
 . . . 
 
 the other. Let us not look to any supe- 
 rior virtue, to any native strength of our 
 own, but let us look with a lively gra- 
 titude to that mercy of God which has 
 preserved us from such temptations ; to 
 his unmerited goodness, which has placed 
 us in circumstances that have put us 
 above necessity — " the devil's plea." 
 But, above all, let us look to that pre- 
 venting and restraining grace which is 
 withheld from none who ask it, and we 
 shall not be so very forward to say, con- 
 temptuously, to the worst of our fellow- 
 creatures, " Stand by, I am holier than 
 thou." A thorough belief in this doctrine 
 would lead us to pray more fervently to 
 be delivered in " all time of our wealth, as 
 well as in all time of our tribulation." 
 
 It is not enough that God has revealed 
 the way of salvation, he must also incline 
 us to accept it. It is this gift, and this 
 acceptance, which makes the distinction 
 between the best men and the worst. 
 Without this all-powerful grace, Latimer 
 might have led Bonner to the stake j 
 o 3
 
 294f ON TtiE CORRUPTION, &C. 
 
 with it, Bonner might have ascended the 
 scaffold a martyr to true religion. With- 
 out this grace, Luther might have fat- 
 tened on the sale of indulgences ; and 
 with it, Leo the Tenth might have accom- 
 plished the blessed work of the Reform- 
 ation.. 
 
 
 - • 

 
 9Q5 
 
 > 
 
 FALSE NOTIONS OF THE DIGNITY OF 
 MAN, SHEWN FROM HIS HELPLESS- 
 NESS AND DEPENDENCE. 
 
 • 
 
 Man is not only a sinful, he is also a 
 
 helpless, and therefore a dependent being. 
 
 This offers new and powerful motives for 
 
 the necessity of prayer, the necessity of 
 
 looking continually to a higher power, to 
 
 a better strength than our own. If that 
 
 Power sustain us not, we fallj if He 
 
 direct us not, we wander. His guidance 
 
 is not only perfect freedom, but perfect 
 
 safety. Our greatest danger begins from 
 
 the moment we imagine we are able to go 
 
 alone. 
 
 The self-sufficiency of man, arising 
 
 from his imaginary dignity, is a favourite 
 
 doctrine with the nominal Christian, 
 o 4
 
 296 HELPLESSNESS OF MAN. 
 
 He feeds his pride with this pernicious 
 aliment. The contrary opinion is so 
 closely connected, indeed is so intimately 
 blended, with the subject of the pre- 
 ceding chapter, that we shall have the 
 less occasion to extend our present ob- 
 servations to any length. 
 
 We hear much, and we hear falsely, of 
 the dignity of human nature. Prayer, 
 founded on the true principles of Scrip- 
 ture, alone teaches us wherein our true 
 dignity consists. The dignity of a fallen 
 creature is a perfect anomaly. True 
 dignity, contrary to the common opinion, 
 that it is an inherent excellence, is 
 actually a sense of the want of it ; it con- 
 sists not in our valuing ourselves, but in 
 a continual feeling of our dependence 
 upon God, and an unceasing aim at con- 
 formity to his image. 
 
 Nothing but a humbling sense of the 
 sinfulness of our nature, of our practised 
 offences, of our utter helplessness^ and 
 constant dependence, can bring h us to 
 fervent and persevering prayer, i How
 
 HELPLESSNESS OF MAN. 297 
 
 did the faith of the saints of old flourish 
 under a darker dispensation, through all 
 the clouds and ignorance which obscured 
 their views of God ! " They looked unto 
 Him and were enlightened ! " How do 
 their slender means and high attainments 
 reproach us ! 
 
 David found that the strength and 
 spirit of nature which had enabled him 
 to resist the lion and the bear, did not 
 enable him to resist his outward 1 tempt- 
 ations, nor to conquer his inward cor- 
 ruptions. He therefore prayed, not only 
 tor deliverance " from blood-guiltiness," 
 for a grievously remembered sin, he 
 prayed for the principle of piety, for the 
 fountain of holiness, for " the creation of 
 a clean heart," for " the renewing of a 
 right spirit," for " truth in the '-inward 
 parts," that the " comfort of God's help 
 might be granted him." This uniform 
 avowal of the secret workings of sin, this 
 uniform dependence on the mercy of God 
 to pardon, and the grace of God to assist, 
 render his precatory addresses, though 
 o 5
 
 298 HELPLESSNESS OF MAN.- 
 
 the j are those of a sovereign and a war- 
 rior, so universally applicable to the case 
 of every private Christian. 
 
 One of our best poets — himself an 
 unsuccessful courtier — from a personal 
 experience of the mortifying feelings 
 of abject solicitation, has said, that if 
 there were the man in the world whom 
 he was at liberty to hate, he would wish 
 him no greater punishment than attend- 
 ance and dependence. But he applies 
 the heavy penalty of this wish to the 
 dependants on mortal greatness. 
 
 Now, attendance and dependence ar$ 
 the very essence both of the safety and 
 happiness of a Christian. Dependence 
 on God is his only true liberty, as at- 
 tendance on Him is his only true 
 consolation. The suitor for human 
 favour is liable to continual disappoint- 
 ment j — if he knock at the door of 
 his patron, there is probably a general 
 order not to admit him. In the higher 
 case, there is a special promise, that 
 " to him that knocks it shall be opened."
 
 HELPLESSNESS OF MAN. 2Q9 
 
 The human patron hates importunity; 
 the Heavenly Patron invites it. The 
 one receives his suitor according to his 
 humour, or refuses his admission from 
 the caprice of the moment ; with the 
 other, " there is no variableness nor 
 shadow of turning:" " Come unto me," 
 is his uniform language. 
 
 The man in power lias many claimants 
 on his favour, and comparatively few 
 boons to bestow. The God of Power 
 has all things in His gift, and only 
 blames the solicitor for coming so sel- 
 dom, or coming so late, or staying so 
 little a while. He only wishes that 
 His best gifts were more earnestly 
 sought. 
 
 When we solicit an earthly benefactor, 
 it is often upon the strength of some 
 pretence to his favour — the hope of 
 some reward for past services : even if 
 we can produce little claim, we insinuate 
 something like merit. But when we 
 approach our Heavenly Benefactor, so 
 far from having any thing like claim, 
 o 6
 
 300 HELPLESSNESS OF MAN. 
 
 any thing like merit to produce, our 
 only true, and our only acceptable plea, 
 is our utter want both of claim and 
 merit — is the utter destitution of all 
 that can recommend us ; yet we presume 
 to ask favour, when we deserve nothing 
 but rejection j we are encouraged to 
 ask for eternal happiness, when we de- 
 serve only eternal punishment. Though 
 we have nothing to produce but dis- 
 loyalty, we ask for the privilege of 
 subjects ; though nothing but disobe- 
 dience to offer, we plead the privileges 
 of children — we implore the tenderness 
 of a father. 
 
 In dependence on God there is no- 
 thing abject ; in attendance on Him, no- 
 thing servile. He never, like the great 
 ones of the world, receives the suitor 
 with a petrifying frown, or, what is 
 worse, never dismisses him with a cruel 
 smile and a false promise. 
 
 Even if the petitioner to human power 
 escape the vexation of being absolutely 
 rejected j even if his suit be granted, 
 
 7
 
 HELPLESSNESS OP MAN. SOI 
 
 the grant, it may be, is accompanied 
 with a mortifying coldness, with an in- 
 telligible hint that the donor expects to 
 be no further troubled. The grant may 
 be attended with such a tedious delay, 
 as may make it no benefit. The boon 
 granted does not, perhaps, prove so 
 valuable as the applicant expected ; or 
 he finds he might have spent the long 
 season of his attendance, his watching, 
 and his waiting, to better purpose ; or 
 he might have employed his interest in 
 another quarter, in obtaining something 
 more important j or, after all, he may 
 have received it too late in life to turn it 
 to the profitable account he had ex- 
 pected. 
 
 But the Almighty Donor never puts 
 oft* His humble petitioner to a more con- 
 venient season. His Court of Requests 
 is always open. He receives the petition 
 as soon as it is offered j He grants it as 
 soon as it is made ; and, though He will 
 not dispense with a continuance of the 
 application, yet to every fresh application
 
 302 HELPLESSNESS OF MAN. 
 
 He promises fresh support. He will 
 still be solicited, but it is in order that 
 He may still bestow. Repeated gifts do 
 not exhaust His bounty, nor lessen His 
 power of fulfilment. Repeated solicit- 
 ation, so far from wearying His patience, 
 is an additional call for His favour. 
 
 Nor is the lateness of the petition any 
 bar to its acceptance : He likes it-should 
 be early, but He rejects it not though it 
 be late. 
 
 With a human benefactor, the . con r 
 sciousness of having received former 
 favours, is a motive with a modest pe- 
 titioner for preventing his making an 
 application for more ; while, on the con- 
 trary, God even invites us to call on 
 Him for future mercies, by the powerful 
 plea of His past acts of goodness — 
 " even mercies which have been ever of 
 old." And as past mercies on God's 
 part, so, to the praise of His grace be it 
 said, that past offences on our own part 
 are no hindrance to the application of 
 hearty repentance, or the answer of fer- 
 vent prayer.
 
 HELPLESSNESS OF MAN. 303 
 
 The petitioner to human power, who 
 may formerly have offended his bene- 
 factor, contrives to soften his displeasure, 
 by representing that the offence was a 
 small one. The devout petitioner to 
 God uses no such subterfuge. In the 
 boldness of faith, and the humility of 
 repentance, he cries, " Pardon my ini- 
 quity, for it is great." 
 
 It is no paradox, then, to assert that 
 dependence on God is the only true 
 safety ; dependence upon Him, the only 
 true freedom — freedom from doubt, 
 and fear, and sin ; freedom from human 
 dependence ; above all, freedom from 
 dependence on ourselves. As pardoned 
 sinners, through the redemption wrought 
 for them, find, in the renewed nature, a 
 restoration to that dignity they had for- 
 feited, so those who are most destitute 
 of the dignity which arises from this 
 dependence, missing the reality, deceive 
 themselves with the shadow. 
 
 He who does not believe this funda- 
 mental truth, on which the other doc-
 
 304 HELPLESSNESS OF MAN. 
 
 trines of the Bible are built, — even 
 he who does nominally profess to as- 
 sent to it as a doctrine of Scripture j 
 yet, if he does not experimentally ac- 
 knowledge it ; if he does not feel it 
 in the convictions of his own awakened 
 conscience, in his discovery of the evil 
 workings of his own heart, and the 
 wrong propensities of his own nature, 
 all bearing their testimony to its truth, — - 
 such a one will not pray earnestly for 
 its cure, — will not pray with that feeling 
 of his own helplessness, with that sense 
 of dependence on Divine assistance, 
 which alone makes prayer efficacious. 
 
 Of this corruption he can never attain 
 an adequate conception, till his progress 
 in religion has opened his eyes on what 
 is the natural state of man. Till this 
 was the case, he himself was as far 
 from desiring the change, as he was 
 from believing it necessary. He does 
 not even suspect its existence, till he 
 is in some measure delivered from its 
 dominion.
 
 HELPLESSNESS OF MAN. 305 
 
 Nothing will make us truly humble, 
 nothing will make us constantly vigilant, 
 nothing will entirely lead us to have 
 recourse to prayer so fervently or so 
 frequently, as this ever-abiding sense 
 of our corrupt nature, — as our not 
 being able to ascribe any disposition in 
 ourselves, to any thing that is good, 
 or any power to avoid, by our own 
 strength, any thing that is evil. 
 
 ■ 
 
 1 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 ■.: 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 !: 

 
 306 
 
 THE OBLIGATION OF PRAYER UNI- 
 VERSAL REGULAR SEASONS TO BE 
 
 OBSERVED. — THE SCEPTIC AND THE 
 SENSUALIST REJECT PRAYER. 
 
 Among the many articles of erroneous 
 calculation, to which so much of the 
 sin and misery of life may be attributed, 
 the neglect or misuse of prayer will not 
 form the lightest. The prophet Jere- 
 miah, in his impassioned address to the 
 Almighty, makes no distinction between 
 those who acknowledge no God, and 
 those who live without prayer. " Pour 
 out thy fury, O Lord, upon the heathen, 
 and upon the families that call not upon 
 thy name." 
 
 Some duties are more incumbent on 
 some persons, and some on others j de-
 
 UNIVERSAL OBLIGATION, &C. 307 
 
 pending on the difference of talents, 
 wealth, leisure, learning, station, and 
 opportunities ; but the duty of prayer 
 is of imperative obligation ; it is uni- 
 versal, because it demands none of any 
 of the above requisites ; it demands only 
 a willing heart, a consciousness of sin, 
 a sense of dependence, a feeling of 
 helplessness. Those who voluntarily 
 neglect it, shut themselves out from the 
 presence of their Maker. " 1 know you 
 not," must assuredly be the sentence of 
 exclusion on those who thus " know 
 not God." Nothing, it is true, can 
 exclude them from His inspection, 
 but they exclude themselves from his 
 favour. 
 
 Many nearly renounce prayer, by af- 
 fecting to make it so indefinite a thing, 
 as not to require regular exercise. Just 
 as many, also, unhallow the Sabbath, 
 who pretend they do nothing on week- 
 days, which they should fear to do on 
 Sundays. The truth is, instead of sanc- 
 tifying the week-days by raising them
 
 308 UNIVERSAL OBLIGATION 
 
 to the duties of Sunday, — which is, in- 
 deed, impracticable, let men talk as they 
 please, — they desecrate the Sunday to 
 secular purposes, and so contrive to keep 
 no Sunday at all. 
 
 Stated seasons for indispensable em- 
 ployments are absolutely necessary for so 
 desultory, so versatile a creature as man. 
 That which is turned over to any chance- 
 time is seldom done at all; and those 
 who despise the recurrence of appointed 
 times and seasons, are only less censur- 
 able than those who rest in them. 
 
 Other duties and engagements have 
 their allotted seasons ; why, then, should 
 the most important duty in which an 
 immortal being can be employed, by 
 being left to accident, become liable to 
 occasional omission, liable to increasing 
 neglect, liable to total oblivion ? 
 
 All the other various works of God 
 know their appointed times ; — the sea- 
 sons, the heavenly bodies, day and night, 
 seed-time and harvest j — all set an ex- 
 ample of undeviating regularity. Why
 
 OF PRAYER. 309 
 
 should man, the only thinking, be the only 
 disorderly, work of Almighty power ? 
 
 But whilst we are asserting the ne- 
 cessity of seasons of prayer, let us not 
 be suspected of attaching undue import- 
 ance to them ; for all these are but the 
 frame-work, the scaffolding, the mere 
 mechanical and subsidiary adjuncts ; they 
 are but the preparation for Christian wor- 
 ship ; they remind us, they intimate to us, 
 that an important work is to be done, 
 but are no part of the work itself. 
 
 They, therefore, who most insist on the 
 value of stated devotions, must never lose 
 sight of that grand, and universal prime 
 truth, that wherever we are, still we are 
 in God's presence ; whatever we have is 
 His gift ; whatever we hope is His pro- 
 mise ; feelings which are commensurate 
 with all time, all places, and limited to 
 no particular scenes or seasons. 
 
 There is in some, in many it is to be 
 feared, a readiness to acknowledge this 
 general doctrine, which miscalled natural 
 religion teaches ; but who are far from
 
 310 UNIVERSAL OBLIGATION 
 
 including in their system the peculiarities, 
 the duties, the devotions of Christianity. 
 These are decorous men of the world, 
 who, assuming the character of philoso- 
 phical liberality, value themselves on 
 having shaken off the shackles of preju- 
 dice, superstition, and system. They 
 acknowledge a Creator of the universe, 
 but it is in a vague and general way. 
 They worship a Being, " whose temple 
 is all space ;" that is, every where but 
 in the human heart. They put Him as 
 far as possible from themselves. Believ- 
 ing that He has no providential care of 
 them, they feel no personal interest in 
 Him. God and nature are with them 
 synonymous terms. That the creation of 
 the world was His work, they do not go 
 the length of denying ; but that its go- 
 vernment is in His hands, is with them 
 very problematical. 
 
 In any case, however, they are assured 
 that a Being of such immensity requires 
 not the littleness of superstitious forms, 
 nor the petty limitations of stated seasons,
 
 OF PRAYER. 311 
 
 and regular devotions ; that he is infi- 
 nitely above attending to our paltry con- 
 cerns, though God himself anticipated 
 this objection, when he condescended to 
 declare, " He that offereth me thanks 
 and praise, he honoureth me." 
 
 One says, lie can adore the Author of 
 nature in the contemplation of his works ; 
 that the mountains and the fields are His 
 altar for worship. Another says, that 
 his notion of religion is to deal honestly 
 in his commerce with the world j both 
 insist that they can serve God any where, 
 and every where. We know they can, 
 and we hope they do ; but our Saviour, 
 who knew the whole make of man, his 
 levity, instability, and unfixedness, and 
 who was yet no friend to the formalist or 
 the superstitious, not only commands, 
 at the hour of prayer, our entering into 
 the closet, but our shutting the door, — a 
 tacit reproof, perhaps, of the indevotion 
 of the Sadducean, as well as the pub- 
 licity of the Pharisaic religion, but cer-
 
 312 UNIVERSAL OBLIGATION 
 
 tainly an admonition of general obli- 
 gation. 
 
 This, indeed, is not the place to enter 
 on that mass of concurring evidence 
 which so irresistibly confirms the especial 
 truth of Christianity. But is it not extra- 
 ordinary that these men who overlook, 
 or rather enquire not into, that accu- 
 mulation of evidence in the exhibition 
 of miracles, and the fulfilment of pro- 
 phecy, — that is, who do not read the 
 Bible, — should not at least attend to 
 one species of evidence more immediately 
 within their reach, and more intelligible 
 to common observation ; we mean the 
 confirmation derived to the proofs of 
 Scripture, from the history of the world, 
 from. their avowal of moral evil, their 
 careful cultivation, where it suits them, 
 of habits pi an opposite nature, their 
 practical and prudential maxims, where 
 they have an end to pursue, an interest 
 to gain ? Do not similar rules, applied to 
 Christian principles, and delivered in the 
 Divine record, prove clearly that our
 
 OF PRAYER. 
 
 Divine teacher " knew what was in 
 man?" 
 
 In treating of prayer, it would be a 
 superfluous labour to address unbelievers 
 with the same arguments or persuasions 
 which we would humbly propose to such 
 as aver, with whatever degree of convic- 
 tion, their belief in Christianity. It would 
 be folly to address them with motives 
 drawn from a book which they do not 
 believe, or do not read. With those who 
 are ignorant of the first principles of re- 
 ligion, or those who reject them, we have 
 no common ground on which to stand. 
 St. Paul, with his usual discrimination, 
 has left us an example in this as well as 
 in all other cases. With the philosophi- 
 cal Athenians he confined his reasonings 
 to natural religion. To the Jewish king, 
 Agrippa, who " believed the prophets," 
 in telling the story of his own conversion, 
 he most judiciously introduced the great 
 doctrines of remission of sins and justifi- 
 cation by faith. 
 
 If the Pyrrhonist in question were to 
 p
 
 314> UNIVERSAL OBLIGATION 
 
 see a genuine Christian character deli- 
 neated in all its dimensions, marked with 
 its fair lineaments, and enlivened by its 
 quickening spirit, such, for instance, as 
 is exemplified in the character of St. 
 Paul, he would consider it as a mere 
 picture of the imagination ; and would no 
 more believe its reality than he does that 
 of Xenophon's Prince, the Stoic's Wise 
 Man, Quintilian's Perfect Orator, or any 
 other Platonic or Utopian representation. 
 Or could he be brought to believe its 
 actual existence, he would set such a man 
 far above the necessity of prayer; he 
 would emancipate him from any such 
 humbling practice ; he would enthrone 
 him in his own independent worth ; for 
 how should he ever suspect that such a 
 man would ever pray at all, much less 
 would be in prayer more abundant, in 
 humiliation more profound, in self-renun- 
 ciation more abased ? 
 
 Is it not probable that some of those 
 enquiring minds, who adorned the porch 
 and the academy, as well as those more
 
 OF PRAYKK. 315 
 
 favoured men who saw the future, through 
 the dim and distant perspective of pro- 
 phecy, would have rejoiced to see the 
 things which you see, and have not be- 
 lieved ? 
 
 How gratefully would many of these 
 illustrious spirits have accepted advan- 
 tages which you overlook ! How joyfully 
 would they have received from Him who 
 cannot lie, the assurance that if they 
 would seek of Him that truth after which 
 they " were feeling," they should find it ! 
 How gladly would that sublime and 
 elegant spirit, whose favourite theme was 
 pure spiritual love, have listened to the 
 great apostle of love ; to him who caught 
 the flame, as he leaned on the bosom of 
 his affectionate master ! 
 
 How t would this same exalted genius, 
 who taught the immortality of the soul 
 to the bright, yet blind, Athenians, — 
 he, whose penetrating mind rather 
 guessed, than knew what he taught, — 
 whose keen eye caught some glimpses of 
 a brighter state through the darkness 
 p 2
 
 316 UNIVERSAL OBLIGATION 
 
 wliich surrounded him, — how would he 
 have gloried in that light and immortality 
 which the gospel revelation has brOught 
 to light ! — but with what unspeakable 
 rapture would he have learned that He 
 who revealed the life could give it, that 
 He who promised immortality could be- 
 stow it ! With what obedient transport 
 Would he have heard this touching apos- 
 trophe, at once a strong reproof and a 
 tender invitation — " Ye will not come 
 unto me that ye might have life !" Ye 
 philosophising cavillers, who live in the 
 meridian splendour of this broad day, 
 I* how will you escape, if you neglect so 
 great salvation ?" 
 
 But if pride, the dominant intellectual 
 sin, keeps the sceptic aloof from the hu- 
 miliating duties of devotion \ the habitual 
 indulgence of the senses, in another class, 
 proves an equal cause of alienating the 
 heart from prayer. 
 
 The man absorbed by ease and enjoy- 
 ment, and sunk in the relaxing softnesses 
 of a voluptuous life, has a natural dis-
 
 OF PRAYER. -317 
 
 taste to every thing that stands .in oppo- 
 sition to the delights of that life. It is 
 the smoothness of his course which makes 
 it so slippery. He is lost before he feels 
 that he is sinking. For whether we 
 plunge at once from a precipitous height, 
 or slide down from it on an inclined 
 plane, still, while there is a yawning gulf 
 at the bottom, our destruction is equally 
 inevitable. &>*&&] 
 
 The systematic but decorous sensualist 
 is one whose life is a course of sober 
 luxury, of measured indulgence. He 
 contrives to reconcile an abandonment of 
 sound principle with a kind of orderly 
 practice. He enquires rather whatsis 
 decent than what is right, what will 
 secure the, favourable opinion of the 
 world*, especially his own class, rather 
 than what will please God. His object 
 is to make the most of this world. Self- 
 ishness has established its throne in his 
 heart. His study is to make every thing 
 and every person subservient to his own 
 convenience, or pleasure, or profit, yet 
 r 3
 
 318 UNIVERSAL OBLIGATION 
 
 without glaringly trespassing on the laws 
 of propriety or custom. — Self is the 
 source and centre of ,all his actions ; but 
 though this governing principle is always 
 on the watch for its gratification, yet, as 
 part of that gratification depends on a 
 certain degree of reputation, it frequently 
 leads him to do right things though with- 
 out right motives ; for the main-spring 
 sometimes sets the right a-going as well 
 as the wrong. 
 
 He goes to church on all public oc- 
 casions, but without devotion j gives alms 
 without charity ; subscribes to public in- 
 stitutions without being interested in 
 their prosperity, except as they are fre- 
 quently succeeded by a pleasant dinner 
 and good company, and as the subscrip- 
 tion-list of names he knows will be pub- 
 lished. He lives on good terms with 
 different, and even opposite classes, of 
 men, without being attached to any j he 
 does them favours without affection, 
 knowing that he shall have occasion to 
 .solicit favours in return, for he never
 
 OF PRAYER. 319 
 
 doe9 a small kindness without a view to 
 asking a greater. 
 
 He deprecates excess in every thing, 
 but always lives upon its confines. 
 
 Prayer enters not into his plan, — he 
 has nothing to ask, for he has all in him- 
 self, — thanksgiving is still less his prac- 
 tice, for what he has he deserves. . 
 
 He has read that " to enjoy is to 
 obey," and he is always ready to give 
 this cheerful proof of the most unlimited 
 obedience. He respects the laws of the 
 country, especially such as guard pro- 
 perty and game, and eagerly punishes 
 the violators of both. But as to the laws 
 of God, he thinks they were made to 
 guard the possessions of the rich, to 
 punish the vicious poor, and to frighten 
 those who have nothing to lose. Yet he 
 respects some of the commandments, 
 and would placard on every post and pil- 
 lar that which says, " Thou shalt not 
 steal ;" whilst he thinks that which says, 
 " Thou shalt not covet" might be ex- 
 punged from the decalogue, 
 p 4>
 
 820 UNIVERSAL OBLIGATION 
 
 if you happen to speak of the help- 
 lessness of man, he thinks you are allud- 
 ing to some paralytic $ if of his depend- 
 ence, to some hanger-on of a great man ; 
 if of his sinfulness, he adopts your opi- 
 nion, for he reads the Newgate-calendar. 
 But of sin, as an inherent principle, of 
 the turpitude of sin, except as it disturbs 
 society, he knows nothing ; but religion 
 as a principle of action, but prayer as a 
 source of peace or a ground of hope, he 
 neither knows nor desires to know. The 
 stream of life glides smoothly on without 
 it ; why should he ruffle its placid flow ? 
 why should he break in on the course of 
 enjoyment with self-imposed austerities ? 
 He believes himself to be respected by 
 his fellow-men, and the favour of God is 
 not in all his thoughts. His real charac- 
 ter the great day of decision will discover. 
 Till then he will have two characters. 
 
 " Soul take thine ease, thou hast much 
 goods laid up for thee," is perhaps the 
 state of all others which most disqualifies 
 and unfits for prayer. Not only the
 
 Cfr PRAYER. 321 
 
 apostrophe excites the bodily appetite, 
 but the soul is called upon to contem- 
 plate, to repose on, the soothing prospect, 
 the delights of that voluptuousness for 
 which the " much goods are laid up.'' 
 Thou fool ! that soul which thou wouldest 
 quicken to such base enjoyment, that soul 
 shall this night be required of thee. 
 
 Thus we see what restrains prayer in 
 these two classes of character. The 
 sceptic does not pray, because he does 
 not believe that God is a hearer of prayer. 
 The voluptuary, because he believes that 
 God is such a one as himself, and be- 
 cause he has already gotten all that he 
 wants of Him. His gold, and the means 
 of gratifying his sensuality, would not be 
 augmented by the dry duties of devotion ; 
 and with an exercise which would in- 
 crease neither, he can easily dispense* tqj 
 
 rli 11 »T 
 
 ■ 
 p 5
 
 322 
 
 ■ 
 
 ERRORS IN PRAYER, WHICH MAY HIN- 
 DER ITS BEING ANSWERED. — THE 
 PROUD MAN'S PRAYER. — THE PA- 
 TIENT CHRISTIAN. — FALSE EXCUSES 
 UNDER THE PRETENCE OF INABI- 
 LITY. 
 
 I 
 
 ■ 
 
 All desire the gifts of God, but they 
 do not desire God. If we profess to 
 love him, it is for our own sake : when 
 shall we begin to love him for himself? 
 Many who do not go the length of 
 omitting prayer, but pray merely from 
 custom, or education, frequently com- 
 plain that they find no benefit from 
 prayer ; others, that they experience not 
 the support and comfort promised to it. 
 May not those who thus complain, and 
 who perhaps are far from being enemies 
 to religion, find, on a serious examination 
 
 M
 
 ERRORS IN PRAYER. 323 
 
 of their own hearts and lives, some irre- 
 gularity in desire, similar to that just 
 mentioned, to be the cause of their dis- 
 content, and alleged disappointment? 
 
 We are more disposed to lay down 
 rules for the regulation of God's govern- 
 ment, than to submit our will to it as he 
 has settled it. If we do not now see 
 the efficacy of the prayer which he has 
 enjoined- us to present to him, it may yet 
 be producing its effect in another way. 
 Infinite wisdom is not obliged to inform 
 us of the manner, or the time of his 
 operations ; what he expects of us is to 
 persevere in the duty. The very obe- 
 dience to the command is no small thing, 
 whatever be its perceptible effects. 
 
 Under the apparent failure of our 
 prayers, the source of our repinings 
 must be looked for in the fact of our 
 own blindness and imperfection ; for the 
 declarations of the Gospel are sure ; their 
 answer must be found in the grace of 
 God in Christ Jesus, for his mercies are 
 infallible. Wherever there is disappoint- 
 p 6
 
 324- ERRORS IN PRAYER. 
 
 nient we may be assured that it is not 
 because he is wanting to us, but because 
 we are wanting to ourselves. 
 
 The prophet's expression, " the ini- 
 quity of our holy things," will not be 
 thoroughly understood except by those 
 who thus seriously dive into the recesses 
 of their own heart, feel their deficiences, 
 mark their wanderings, detect and lament 
 their vain imaginations and impertinent 
 thoughts. It is to be regretted that 
 these worldly trifles are far more apt to 
 intrude on us in prayer, than the devout 
 affections excited by prayer are to fol- 
 low us into the world. Business and 
 pleasure break in on our devotions : 
 when will the spirit of devotion mix with 
 the concerns of the world ? 
 
 You who lament the disappointment 
 of your requests, suffer a few friendly 
 hints. • — Have you not been impatient 
 because you receive not the things that 
 you asked at your own time ? How do 
 you know that if you had persevered 
 God might have bestowed them in His
 
 ERRORS IN PRAYER. 325 
 
 time? He certainly would, had He not 
 in His wisdom foreseen they would not 
 have been good for you ; and, therefore, 
 in His mercy withheld them. Is there 
 not some secret, unsuspected infidelity 
 lurking behind such impatience? Is it 
 not virtually saying there is no God to 
 hear, or that He is unfaithful to his pro- 
 mises ? For is it not ablolute impiety to 
 insinuate an accusation that the Supreme 
 Judge of men and angels is capable of in- 
 justice, or liable to error ? God has plea- 
 sure in the prosperity of His children. 
 He neither grants nor denies any thing 
 which is not accurately weighed and 
 measured ; which is not exactly suited to 
 their good, if not to their request. 
 
 If we pray aright it may please God 
 not only to grant that for which we pray> 
 but that for which we do not pray. Sup- 
 plicating for the best things, we may re- 
 ceive inferior and unrequested things, as 
 was the case with Solomon in his prayer 
 tor wisdom. God will not forget our la- 
 bour of love. If he does not seem to
 
 326 ERRORS IN PRAYER. 
 
 notice it at present, he may lay it by for 
 a time when it may be more wanted. 
 
 In prayer we must take care not to 
 measure our necessities by our desires : 
 the former are few, the latter may be in- 
 satiable. A murmuring spirit is a proba- 
 ble cause why our petitions are not grant- 
 ed. He who murmurs, distrusts the truth 
 of God ; and from distrust to infidelity 
 the distance is not great. The certain 
 way to prevent our obtaining what we 
 desire, or enjoying what we have, is to 
 feel impatient at what we do not receive, 
 or to make an improper use of what has 
 been granted to our prayers. 
 
 Gr you may perhaps address God with 
 sinister and corrupt views ; as if you had 
 left his omniscience out of his attributes ; 
 as if you thought Him such an one as 
 yourself; as if He might be entrapped 
 with the " secret ambush of a specious 
 prayer." Your design in the application 
 of the boon you solicit may not be for his 
 glory. It may be the prayer of ambition, 
 cloked under the guise of more extensive
 
 ERRORS IN PRAYER. 327 
 
 usefulness ; it may be the prayer of co- 
 vetousness, under the pretext of provid- 
 ing for your family. It may be the 
 prayer of injustice, a petition for success 
 in some undertaking for yourself, to the 
 circumvention of another's fairer claim. 
 God, in merey to our souls, refuses the 
 gift which would endanger them. 
 
 Thus, then, if we ask and receive not, 
 because we ask deceitfully or blindly, we 
 must not wonder if our prayers are not 
 answered. Or, if we obtain what we so- 
 licit, and turn it to a bad account, or to 
 no account at all, we must not be sur- 
 prised if Divine grace is withheld, or with- 
 drawn. 
 
 The same ill results may be expected 
 if we ask formally, or carelessly. Who 
 has not felt, that there is a kind of me- 
 chanical memory in the tongue, which 
 runs over the form, without any aid of 
 the understanding, without any concur- 
 rence of the will, without any consent of 
 the affections ? For do we not sometimes 
 implore God to hear a prayer, to which
 
 328 ERRORS IN PRAYER. 
 
 we ourselves are not attending ? And is 
 not this presumptuously to demand from 
 Him that attention, which we ourselves 
 are not giving to our own requests, even 
 while we are in the act of making them ? 
 A mere superficial form, by lulling the 
 conscience, hardens the heart. The task 
 is performed, but in what manner, or to 
 what result, is not enquired. Genuine 
 prayer is the homage of the soul to God, 
 and not an expedient to pacify Him. 
 : If you observe the form, but forget the 
 dispositions it is intended to produce, it 
 is evident the end of such prayer is not 
 answered. Yet be not so far discouraged 
 by feeling no sensible effect from prayer 
 as to discontinue it ; it is still a right 
 thing to be found in the way of duty. 
 
 But, perhaps, you neglect to implore 
 the Spirit of Christ towards the direction 
 of your prayers, and His intercession for 
 their acceptance. As there is no other 
 name through which we can be saved, so 
 there is no other through which we can 
 be heard : we must not sever his medi-
 
 ERRORS IN PRAYER. £$| 
 
 aiion from his atonement. All His divine 
 offices are not only in perfect harmony, 
 but in inseparable union.* Or, perhaps 
 you have used the name of the Redeemer 
 for form-sake, or as an accustomed close 
 to your petitions, without imploring his 
 efficacious grace in changing- your heart, 
 as well as in pardoning your sins. 
 
 Perhaps you think it a sufficient quali- 
 fication for acceptable prayer, that you 
 are always forming good intentions ; now, 
 though these make up the value of good 
 actions, yet good intentions, not acted up- 
 on, when occasion invites and duty calls, 
 will not lessen, but inflame the reckonings 
 For does it not look as if you had resisted 
 the offer of that Holy Spirit, which had 
 originally prompted the intention ? And 
 may it not induce him to withdraw his 
 
 * We observe with regret, that in many forms of 
 prayer, the aid of his mediation is much more fre- 
 quently implored, than the benefits of his death and 
 merits. He is, indeed, our Divine Intercessor, but 
 his mere intercession is not the whole source of our 
 dependence on him.
 
 630 
 
 ERRORS IN PRAYER. 
 
 blessed influences, when they have been 
 both invited and rejected ? 
 
 Do you never, by unwholesome read- 
 ing, fill the mind with images unfavour- 
 able to serious exercises ? The children 
 of the pure and holy God should feed on 
 the bread of their father's house, and not 
 on the husks of the prodigal. 
 
 Do you never use prophanely or 
 lightly, that name which is above every 
 name ? He who made the ear, shall he 
 not hear ; and if he has heard, during 
 the day, his awful name used by the 
 thoughtless as an expletive, or by the 
 impious as an interjection, or an impre- 
 cation, will he in the morning be called 
 on as a saviour, and in the evening as an 
 intercessor ? 
 
 But no profession of faith, however 
 orthodox, no avowal of trust in Christ, 
 however confident, no entreaty for the 
 aid of the Spirit, however customary, will 
 avail, if it be not such an influential 
 faith, such a practical trust, such a living 
 devotedness, as shall be productive of
 
 ERRORS IN PRAYER. 331 
 
 holiness of heart and life, as shall tend to 
 produce obedience to the commands, and 
 submission to the will of God. This is 
 an infallible test, by which you may try 
 every doctrine, every principle of the 
 Gospel. We do not mean the truth of 
 them, for that is immutable ; but your 
 own actual belief) your own actual in- 
 terest in them. If no such effects are 
 visible, we deceive ourselves, and the 
 principles we defend, are not those by 
 which we are governed. 
 
 Prayer is so obviously designed to 
 humble the proud heart of the natural 
 man, by giving him a feeling sense of his 
 misery, his indigence, and his helplessness, 
 that we should be unwilling to believe, 
 that even the proudest man can carry 
 his pride to the Throne of Grace, except 
 to supplicate deliverance from it; yet 
 such a character is actually drawn by 
 him who knew the thoughts and intents 
 of the heart of man, and a little consider- 
 ation will teach us, that the " two men 
 who went up into the temple to pray,"
 
 332 ERRORS IN PRAYER. 
 
 were not intended as individual portraits, 
 but as specimens of a class. 
 
 The proud man does not perhaps 
 always thank God that he is not guilty 
 of adultery, or extortion, to which vices 
 he may have little temptation ; nor dOes 
 he glory in paying tithes and taxes, to 
 which the law would compel him. Yet 
 is he never disposed, like the Pharisee, to 
 proclaim the catalogue of his own vir- 
 tues ? to bring in his comparative claims, 
 as if it were a good thing to be better 
 than the bad ? Is he never disposed to 
 carry in his eye, (as if he would remind 
 his Maker of his superiority,) certain 
 persons who are possibly less the objects of 
 Divine displeasure, than he, by his pride 
 and selfishness, may have rendered him- 
 self; although his regularity in the forms 
 of devotion may have made him more 
 respectable in the world, than the poor, 
 reprobated being whom he praises God 
 he does not resemble ? It is the abase- 
 ment, the touching self-condemnation, 
 the avowed poverty, the pleaded misery
 
 ERRORS IN PRAYER. 333 
 
 of the destitute beggar that finds ac- 
 ceptance. It is the hungry whom God's 
 mercy rills with good things, it is the 
 rich in his own conceit, whom his dis- 
 pleasure sends empty away. 
 
 Whenever you are tempted to thank 
 God that you are not like other men, 
 compare your own condition with that 
 of the afflicted and the bereaved among 
 your own friends ; compare yourself with 
 the paralytic on his couch, with the 
 blind beggar by the way-side, with the 
 labourer in the mine ; think on the 
 wretch in the galleys ; on the condemned 
 in the dungeons of despotic governments; 
 on the miserable beings in our own pri- 
 sons, those loathsome abodes of sin and 
 wretchedness. Above all, think, and 
 this is the intolerable acme of sin in the 
 inflictor, and of misery in the sufferer ; 
 think on the wretched negro chained in 
 the hold of a slave-ship ! Think seri- 
 ously on these, and put pride into your 
 prayer if you can. Think on these, not 
 to triumph in your own superiority, but
 
 384/ ERRORS IN PRAYER. 
 
 to adore the undeserved mercy of God, 
 in giving you advantages to which you 
 have no higher claim, and let your praise 
 of yourself be converted into prayer for 
 them. 
 
 For there are no dispositions of the 
 heart which are more eminently pro- 
 moted by prayer, than contentment and 
 patience. They are two qualities of the 
 same colour, but of different shades, and 
 are generally, when found at all, found in 
 the same breast. Both are the offspring 
 of genuine religion, both nurtured by 
 cordial prayer. The cultivation of the 
 one, under easy circumstances, prepares 
 for the exercise of the other under more 
 trying situations. Both emanate from 
 the same divine principle, but are drawn 
 out by different occasions, and varying 
 circumstances. 
 
 Content is the tranquillity of the 
 heart, prayer is its aliment ; it is satisfied 
 under every dispensation of Providence, 
 and takes thankfully its allotted portion, 
 never enquiring whether a little more
 
 ERRORS IN PRAYER. $35 
 
 would not be a little better; knowing, 
 that if God had so judged, it would have 
 been as easy for him to have given the 
 more as the less. That is not true con- 
 tent, which does not enjoy as the gift of 
 infinite wisdom what it has, nor is that 
 true patience, which does not suffer 
 meekly the loss of what it had, because it 
 is not his will that it should have it longer. 
 The contentment of the irreligious 
 man is apathy, his patience either pride 
 or insensibility. The language of the 
 patient man under trials is, it is the 
 Lord. — Shall a living man complain, is 
 his interrogation? " A good man," says 
 Solomon, " is satisfied from himself." 
 Here the presumptuous might put in his 
 claim to the title. But his pretension 
 arises from his mistake, for his satisfac- 
 tion is with himself, that of the Christian 
 with Providence ; it arises from the 
 grace of God shed abroad in his heart, 
 which is become a perennial spring of 
 consolation and enjoyment ; and which, 
 by persevering prayer, is indented into
 
 336 ERRORS IN PRAYER. 
 
 his very soul. Content knows how to 
 want and how to abound ; this is the lan- 
 guage of equanimity : " shall I not rev 
 ceive evil from the hand of the Lord, as 
 well as good/' this is the language of 
 patience in speaking of Providence. 
 Content is always praising God for what 
 she possesses ; patience is always justify- 
 ing Him for what she suffers. The cul- 
 tivation of the one effectually prepares 
 us for the exercise of the other. But 
 these dispositions are not inherent in the 
 human heart. How are they generated? 
 by the influences of the Holy Spirit. 
 How are they kept alive ? by heart-felt 
 devotion. 
 
 The prosperous man of the world, ex- 
 ulting in any recent success, may acknow- 
 ledge, " the Lord gave," but it is only 
 Christian patience can say, " the Lord 
 taketh away," and even bless Him for 
 the resumption of His gift. The con- 
 tented, patient Christian, has the same 
 keen feelings, the same fond attach- 
 ments with other men, for, though his
 
 ERRORS IN PRAYER. 337 
 
 passions are regulated by religion, they 
 are not totally extinguished. 
 
 Under the pressure of any affliction, 
 thy will be done, as it is the patient Chris- 
 tian's unceasing prayer, so is it the ground 
 of his unvarying practice. In this brief 
 petition he finds his whole duty com- 
 prised and expressed. It is the un- 
 prompted request of his lips, it is the 
 motto inscribed on his heart, it is the 
 principle which regulates his life, it is the 
 voice which says to the stormy passions, 
 «* Peace ! be still ! " Let others expostu- 
 late, he submits. Nay, even submission 
 does not adequately express his feelings. 
 We frequently submit, not so much from 
 duty as from necessity j we submit, be- 
 cause we cannot help ourselves. Resig- 
 nation sometimes may be mere acquies- 
 cence in the sovereignty, rather than 
 conviction of the wisdom and goodness 
 of God ; while the patient Christian not 
 only yields to the dispensation, but 
 adores the dispenser. He not only sub- 
 mits to the blow, but vindicates the hand
 
 338 ERRORS IN PRAYER. 
 
 which inflicts it ; " the Lord is righteous 
 in all his ways." He refers to the chas- 
 tisement as a proof of the affection of the 
 chastiser. " I know that in very faith- 
 fulness thou hast caused me to be af- 
 flicted." He recurs to the thoughtlessness 
 of his former prosperity. " Before I was 
 afflicted I went astray," and alludes to 
 the trial less as a punishment than a 
 paternal correction. If he prays for a 
 removal of the present suffering, he prays 
 also that it may not be removed from him, 
 till it has been sanctified to him. He 
 will not even part from the trial till he 
 has laid hold on the benefit. 
 
 Perhaps the impediment which hinders 
 the benefit of prayer in characters appa- 
 rently correct, may be the fatal habit of 
 indulging in some secret sin, the private 
 cherishing of some wrong propensity, the 
 entertaining of some evil imagination. 
 Not being accustomed to control at 
 other times, it intrudes, when you would 
 willingly expel it ; for a guest which is 
 unreservedly let in at other seasons, and 
 ii
 
 ERRORS IN PRAYER. '339 
 
 cordially entertained, will too frequently 
 break in when you desire to be alone. 
 
 The Scriptures are explicit on this sub- 
 ject. It is not merely the committing 
 actual sin that ruins the comfort growing 
 out of prayer; the divine prohibition 
 runs higher ; its interdiction is more 
 intimately interior ; it extends to the 
 thoughts and intents of the heart. The 
 door of heaven is shut against prayer 
 under such circumstances. " If 1 regard 
 iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not 
 hear me." A cherished corruption in 
 the mind is the more likely to interpose 
 between God and the soul, because it 
 does not assume the shape and bulk of 
 criine. A practical offence, the effect of 
 sudden temptation, is more likely to be 
 followed by keen repentance, deep self- 
 abasement, and fervent application for 
 pardon ; whereas to the close bosom-sin, 
 knowing that no human charge can be 
 brought against it, the soul secretly 
 returns with a fondness facilitated by 
 long indulgence, and only whetted by 
 
 Q 2
 
 340 ERRORS IN PRAYER. 
 
 a short separation. Vain, covetous, 
 malignant, impure thoughts, habitually 
 fostered by the imagination, are more 
 likely to start out into action, are a more 
 probable preparation for a bolder sin, 
 than many who indulge them believe or 
 intend. 
 
 It was, perhaps, this acute experimen- 
 tal feeling which led David to pray to be 
 delivered from " secret sins ;" these, he 
 was probably conscious, had led to those 
 "presumptuous sins,"whichhad entangled 
 his soul and embittered his life; and whose 
 dominion he so frequently and fervently 
 deprecates. This, it is to be feared, may 
 be the case with some, whose language 
 and exterior cause them to be ranked 
 with the religious ; these are, at least, the 
 dangers to which they are most exposed. 
 It is, therefore, that our Lord connects, 
 in indissoluble union, watching with 
 prayer. 
 
 Perhaps, when the conscience is more 
 than usually awakened, you pray with 
 some degree of fervour to be delivered
 
 ERRORS IN PRAYER. 341 
 
 From the guilt and punishment of sin. 
 But, if you stop here, your devotion is most 
 imperfect. If you do not also pray to be 
 delivered from its power and dominion 
 over your heart and life, you do not go 
 much further than the heathens of old. 
 They seem to have had a strong feeling 
 of guilt, by their fond desire of ex- 
 piating it by their sacrifices and lus- 
 trations. 
 
 Of their terror of its punishment we 
 have many intimations in their fables j foi 
 what is fable to us, was probably to them 
 obscure history, or wild tradition worked 
 up into an absurd but amusing mytho- 
 logy. The eternity of their punishments 
 is strongly implied in the insatiable thirst 
 and ungratified appetites of Tantalus; 
 his misery augmented by that flowing 
 water and those tempting fruits which 
 hung in his sight and mocked his appe- 
 tites, not unlike the anguish of Dives, 
 which was rendered more intolerable by 
 beholding the blessedness of those on the 
 other side of the great gulf. The pro- 
 Q 3
 
 34*2 ERRORS IN PRAYER. 
 
 fitless toils of Sisyphus, and of the 
 daughters of Danaus, whose ever-failing 
 efforts prove their labours to be infinite 
 and their punishment eternal. The wheel 
 of Ixion, which, as it was to be perpe- 
 tually in motion, so the punishment was 
 to have no end ; a doctrine not so strongly 
 held by many Christians, as it seems to be 
 implied in this blind mythology. 
 
 Will you not then be most unweariedly 
 fervent in prayer to the God of mercy, 
 for deliverance from the dominion of 
 that sin which, if not forsaken as well as 
 lamented, will be inevitably followed by 
 that punishment which you deprecate, 
 and which will never end ? But such is 
 the love of present ease, and the desire 
 of respite, that you think, perhaps, it is 
 better not " to be tormented before the 
 time." How many now in a state of ir- 
 reversible misery wish they had been tor- 
 mented sooner, that they might not be 
 tormented for ever! But with you it is 
 not yet too late. With you the day of 
 grace, which to them is over, is not yet
 
 ERRORS IN PRAYER. 343 
 
 past. Use it then, without delay, in- 
 stead of persisting in laying up fresh re- 
 grets for eternity. 
 
 But too many deceive themselves, by 
 imagining that when they have pro- 
 nounced their prayer the duty is accom- 
 plished with the task, the occult medi- 
 cine being taken, the charm is to work 
 of itself. They consider it as a duty 
 quite distinct and unconnected with any 
 other. They forget that it is to produce 
 in them a principle which is to mix with 
 all the occurrences of the day. Prayer, 
 though not intended as a talisman, is yet 
 proposed as a remedy. The effect of its 
 operation is to be seen in assisting to 
 govern the temper, in bridling the 
 tongue, in checking, not only calumny 
 but levity, not only impure, but vain con- 
 versation. 
 
 But we have a wonderful talent at de- 
 ceiving ourselves. We have not a fault 
 for which we do not find an apology. 
 Our ingenuity on this head is inex- 
 haustible. In matters of religion men 
 q, 4
 
 344 ERRORS IN PRAYER. 
 
 complain that they are weak, a com- 
 plaint they are not forward to urge in 
 worldly matters. They lament that their 
 reluctance to pray arises from being un- 
 able to do what God, in his word, expects 
 them to do. But is not this virtual rebel- 
 lion, only with a smooth face and a soft 
 name ? God is too wise not to know 
 exactly what we can do, and too just to 
 expect from us what we cannot. 
 
 This pretence of weakness, though it 
 looks like humility, is only a mask for 
 indolence and a screen for selfishness. 
 
 We certainly can refuse to indulge 
 ourselves in what pleases us, when we 
 know it displeases God. We can obey 
 his commandments with the aid of the 
 infused strength which He has promised, 
 and which we can ask. It is not He who 
 is unwilling to give, but we who are 
 averse to pray. The temptations to vice 
 are strengthened by our passions, as our 
 motives to virtue are weakened by 
 them. 
 
 Our great spiritual enemy would not
 
 ERRORS IN PRAYER. 345 
 
 be so potent, if we ourselves did not put 
 arms into his hands. The world would 
 not be so powerful an enchantress, if we 
 did not assist the enchantment, by volun- 
 tarily yielding to it •, by insensibly forsak- 
 ing Him who is our strength. We make 
 apologies for yielding to both by plead- 
 ing their power and our own? weakness. 
 But the inability to resist is of our own 
 making. Both enemies are indeed power- 
 ful, but they are not irresistible. If we 
 assert the contrary, is it not virtually 
 saying "greater are they that are against 
 us than He that is for us ?" 
 
 But we are traitors to our own cause j 
 we are conquered by our own consent; 
 we surrender, not so much because the 
 conqueror is powerful, as because the 
 conquered is willing. 
 
 Without diminishing any thing of His 
 grace and glory, to whom every good 
 thought we think, every victory over sin 
 we obtain, is owing — may it not add to 
 our happiness, even in heaven, to look 
 Q 5
 
 34*6. ERRORS IN PRAYER. 
 
 back on every conflict we maintained 
 with our grand spiritual enemy, every 
 triumph over the world, every victory 
 over ourselves ? Will not the remem- 
 brance of one act of resistance then, far 
 surpass every gratification now, which 
 the three confederated enemies of our 
 souls may present to us ? 
 
 It is not merely by our prayers that 
 we must give glory to God. Our Divine 
 Master has expressly told us wherein His 
 Father is glorified; it is "when we bring 
 forth much fruit." It is by our works 
 we shall be judged, and not by our 
 prayers. And what a final consumma- 
 tion is it that obedience to the will of 
 God, which is our duty here, shall be 
 our nature hereafter ! What is now our 
 prayer shall then be our possession ; there 
 the obligation to obey shall become a 
 necessity, and that necessity shall be 
 happiness ineffable. 
 
 The various evils here enumerated, 
 with many others not touched upon, are
 
 ERRORS IN PRATER. 347 
 
 so many dead weights on the wings of 
 prayer; they cause it to gravitate to 
 earth, obstruct its ascent, and hinder 
 it from piercing to the throne of 
 God. 
 
 
 . 
 
 0.6
 
 34& 
 
 
 GOD OUR FATHER OUR UNWILLING- 
 NESS TO PLEASE HIM. — FORMS OF 
 PRAYER. — GREAT AND LITTLE SINS. 
 — ALL SIN AN OFFENCE AGAINST 
 GOD. — BENEFIT OF HABITUAL 
 PRAYER. 
 
 The distinction between the personal 
 nature of Faith, and the universal cha- 
 racter of Charity, as it is exercised in 
 prayer, are specifically exhibited in the 
 two pronouns which stand at the head of 
 the Creed and of the Lord's Prayer. 
 We cannot exercise faith for another, 
 and therefore can only say I believe. 
 But when we offer up our petitions, we 
 address them to our father, implying 
 that He is the author, governor, and 
 supporter, not of ourselves only, but of 
 
 '3
 
 GOD OUR FATHER. 349 
 
 his whole rational creation. It conveys 
 also a beautiful idea of that boundless 
 charity which links all mankind m one 
 comprehensive brotherhood. The plural 
 its, continued through the whole prayer, 
 keeps up the sentiment with which it 
 sets out, tends to exclude selfishness, 
 and to excite philanthropy, by recom- 
 mending to God the temporal as well 
 as spiritual wants of the whole family of 
 mankind. 
 
 The nomenclature of the Divinity is 
 expressed in Scripture by every term 
 which can convey ideas of grandeur or 
 of grace, of power or of affection, of 
 sublimity or tenderness, of majesty or 
 benignity ; by every name which can 
 excite terror or trust, which can inspire 
 awe or consolation. 
 
 But of all compellations by which the 
 Supreme Being is designated in his holy 
 word, there is not one niore soothing, 
 more attractive, more endearing than 
 that of Father ; it includes the idea of 
 reconcilement, pardon, acceptance, love.
 
 350 GOD OUR FATHER. 
 
 It swallows up His grandeur in His 
 beneficence. It involves also the inhe- 
 ritance belonging to our filial relation. 
 It fills the mind with every image that is 
 touching, and the heart with every feel- 
 ing that is affectionate. It inspires fear 
 softened by love, and authority mitigated 
 by gratitude. The tenderest image the 
 Psalmist could select from the abundant 
 storehouse of his rich conceptions to 
 convey the kindest sentiment of God's 
 pity towards them that fear Him, was 
 that it resembles the pity of a " father 
 for his own children." In directing us' 
 to pray to our Father, our Divine Master 
 does not give the command without the 
 example. He every where uses the 
 term He recommends. " I thank Thee, 
 Oh Father, Lord of heaven and earth !" 
 and in the 17th of St. John he uses this 
 endearing name no less than seven 
 times. 
 
 '« Lord, shew us the Father and it suf- 
 ficeth," was the ill-understood prayer of 
 the inquiring disciples. To us this peti-
 
 GOD OUR FATHER. 351 
 
 tion is granted before it is made. Does 
 He not shew himself to all as a 
 Father, in the wonders of his creation, in 
 the wonders of our being, preservation, 
 and support? Has he not, in a more 
 especial manner, revealed Himself to us 
 as a Father in the sublime wonders of his 
 word, in the unsearchable riches of 
 Christ, and the perpetuated gift of the 
 Holy Spirit ? Does He not shew Him. 
 self our Father, if, when we have done 
 evil, He withholds His chastening hand ; 
 if, when we have sinned, He still bears 
 with us; if, when we are deaf to his 
 call, He repeats it ; if, when we delay, 
 He waits for us ; if, when we repent, He 
 pardons us; if, when we return, He 
 receives us; if, when in danger, He 
 preserves us from falling ; and if, when 
 we fall, He raises us ? 
 
 We have a beautiful illustration of the 
 goodness of God as a merciful and tender 
 Father in the deeply affecting parable of 
 the Prodigal Son. Though the undone 
 spendthrift knew that he had no possible
 
 352 OUR UNWILLINGNESS 
 
 claim on the goodness he had so noto- 
 riously offended, yet he ' felt that the 
 endearing name of Father had an elo- 
 quence that might plead forgiveness Of 
 his offence, though he feared not for a 
 restoration to affection and favour. But 
 while he only meekly aspired to a place 
 among the servants, while he only 
 humbly pleaded for a little of their 
 redundant bread, he was received as a 
 pardoned, reconciled, beloved child. 
 
 Yet the human heart is not easily 
 warmed into gratitude, or softened into 
 love, or allured to imitation, because it 
 takes only slight and transient views of 
 the divine benignity. What God has 
 done for us, and what we have really 
 done against ourselves, will, in the great 
 day of decision, crown Him with glory, 
 and ourselves with shame. What we 
 think we do for our own benefit in tem- 
 poral concerns is so animated, so earnest, 
 so unremitted — what we are called to 
 do for God — which ultimately, indeed, 
 would be done for ourselves — is so little,
 
 to serve h m. 353 
 
 so reluctant, so heartless, as to bear no 
 sort of comparison. In the former case, 
 every thing is a gratification ; in the latter, 
 every thing is a sacrifice. 
 
 We think much of the smallest instance 
 of self-denial if it be for God ; if it be 
 an act of acknowledgment to the most 
 gracious of all Fathers ; if it be a tribute 
 of homage to the King of Kings, however 
 large or lasting the promised recom- 
 pence. But we think little of any pre- 
 sent privation of our own, if it insure to 
 us a longer subsequent enjoyment, 
 though but for a short season. *' God," 
 says a pious writer, " is more easily imi- 
 tated by his children, in the perfections 
 in which he appears to us as a father, 
 than in those in which he appears a 
 God." And yet it is in his inimitable 
 perfections that we seek to imitate him. 
 We had rather resemble him in his inde- 
 pendence and his power than in his 
 beneficence and his love and his forgive- 
 ness, yet it is in these last that we are 
 commanded to copy him.
 
 354 FORMS OF PRAYFR. 
 
 In speaking of the manner in which 
 we should address our Heavenly Father, 
 it is to be observed there may be evident 
 differences in the state, both of the mind 
 and circumstances, for which the best 
 written forms of prayer can make no 
 provision. We ourselves can alone know 
 those varieties, and the petitions which 
 expressly belong to them. We are some- 
 times under the influence of particular 
 tempers, which we wish to cultivate and 
 improve ; in this case, we shall naturally 
 use addresses very different from those 
 which the prevalence of unfavourable 
 tempers or wrong dispositions require. 
 
 As to the outward events in which we 
 are concerned — for accident is a term 
 which has no place in the Christian's 
 vocabulary — God in every dispensation 
 is at work for our good. In more pros- 
 perous circumstances He tries our grati- 
 tude $ in mediocrity our contentment; 
 in misfortunes our submission; and as 
 every new situation calls into exercise 
 some new virtue, by consequence it calls
 
 FORMS OF PRAYER. 355 
 
 for some alteration in the mode of our 
 devotions. The prayers of yesterday and 
 to-day will consequently be as different 
 as the circumstances — these are some 
 of the advantages of private, over public 
 prayer. 
 
 The great and general topics are, how- 
 ever, of a fixed, unalterable nature, on 
 which, though we may be more or less 
 diffuse, according to the state of the 
 mind, yet the tenor and spirit will require 
 little variation. This is more especially 
 the case with respect to praise and 
 thanksgiving ; and to express these, the 
 use of stated forms may occasionally 
 come in with much advantage, as the 
 cardinal points to be expressed here 
 must be ever the same. Invariably 
 must the glory and honour of whatever 
 is good be ascribed to the great source of 
 light and life, the giver of every good 
 and perfect gift; and the addition in 
 secret of particular clauses of praise for 
 personal mercies will not be difficult to 
 find where gratitude is really felt.
 
 356 FORMS OF PRAYER. 
 
 A deep sense of his corruptions will 
 powerfully draw the real penitent to an 
 humbling avowal of sin in prayer ; but it 
 is to be feared that some, who, because 
 they cannot charge themselves with 
 flagrant offences, do not consider a con- 
 trite confession of the sins of the heart, 
 and of the daily life, an indispensable 
 part of their devotions. But God will 
 charge many with sin who neglect to 
 charge themselves. Did they attend to 
 the remonstrances of a conscience not laid 
 asleep by neglect, or quieted by pallia- 
 tives, they would find that were the 
 daily omissions alone, of even their best 
 days, registered and presented to them, 
 they would form no inconsiderable cata- 
 logue for repentance. 
 
 There are too many who do not con- 
 sider that all sins are equally a breach of 
 the Divine law. Without pretending to 
 bring all sins, small and great, to one 
 common level, we should remember that 
 all sin is an offence against a gracious 
 father.
 
 FORMS OF PRAYER. 357 
 
 In that profoundly self-abasing prayer 
 of David, after the commission of the 
 two black offences which disgraced his 
 otherwise exemplary life j though he 
 deeply felt his barbarous treatment of his 
 brave general, in first dishonouring his 
 wife, and then exposing him to meet inevit- 
 able death in the fore-front of the hottest 
 battle — yet, in praying to be delivered 
 from this blood-guiltiness, he bequeathed 
 an important lesson to posterity, when in 
 his lowly prostration at the throne of 
 God, his first cry was, " against Thee, 
 Thee only, have I sinned, and done this 
 evil in Thy sight," plainly declaring, that 
 all sin is, in the first instance a sin 
 against God. 
 
 While the most Worldly are ready 
 enough to exclaim against notorious sins, 
 or against any sins carried to the greatest 
 excess, to smaller offences they contrive 
 to be tolerably reconciled. They think 
 the commission of these not inconsistent 
 with the profitable use of prayer in their 
 formal way of using this customary 
 exercise.
 
 358 BENEFIT OF 
 
 They are also sufficiently lenient to 
 certain degrees of great sins ; and various 
 are the modifications and distinctions in 
 their logic, and not over-correct the gra- 
 dations in their moral scale of degrees. 
 They do not consider that it is the ex- 
 tirpation, and not merely the reduction, 
 of any sin, which is to procure them that 
 peace and comfort for which they some- 
 times pray, and which they wonder they 
 do not receive as an answer to their 
 prayers. 
 
 They forget that the evil of sin is not 
 to be measured by its magnitude only, 
 but by the spirit of disobedience which 
 it indicates towards a generous Father, 
 — a Father whose commands are all 
 founded in mercy and love, and who 
 considers every voluntary fault as no 
 light offence when committed against 
 supreme power, exercised with perfect 
 tenderness. 
 
 But it is their reluctance to part with 
 the remaining degrees, their wish to 
 retain these modified sins ; it is their fa- 
 vourite reserves to which they still cling,
 
 HABITUAL PRAYER. $59 
 
 that prevent that peace which is promised 
 to the victory, I had almost said to the 
 omnipotence, of prayer. 
 
 For it is not so much the nicely mea- 
 sured quantity, as the nature of sin 
 which constitutes its malignity, and ob- 
 structs the benefit of prayer. The infe- 
 rior degree which is cherished, will, 
 without earnest supplication to God, be 
 ready to become the excess which is 
 deprecated, whenever the appropriate 
 temptation shall present itself. For, 
 however our compassionate Father may 
 pardon the unpremeditated fault, yet 
 how can we expect Him to forgive any 
 degree of sin that is allowed, that is even, 
 in a certain measure, intended to be 
 committed ? Diminution, however, is a 
 favourable step, if, by perseverance in 
 prayer, it lead gradually to extirpation. 
 
 Habitual prayer may prove a most 
 effectual check to any doubtful or wrong 
 action, to which circumstances may in- 
 vite us during the day on which we are 
 entering — the very petition to our Hea-
 
 360 BENEFIT OF HABITUAL PRAYER. 
 
 venly Father, — " deliver us from evil," 
 forcibly felt and sincerely expressed, may 
 preserve us from being seduced into it. 
 And is not the praying Christian less 
 likely to " fall into temptation," than 
 they who neglect to pray that they may 
 not be led into it ? 
 
 The right dispositions of the heart, 
 and the fervour of devotion reciprocally 
 excite each other. A holy temper sends 
 us to prayer, and prayer promotes that 
 temper. Every act of thanksgiving tends 
 to make us more grateful, and aug- 
 mented gratitude excites more devout 
 thanksgiving. 
 
 The act of confession renders the heart 
 more contrite, and deeper contrition in- 
 duces a more humbling avowal of sin. 
 Each, and all, send us more cordially 
 to the Redeemer: the more fervent the 
 prayer, the more entire is the prostration 
 of the whole man at the foot of the 
 cross.
 
 361 
 
 THE DOCTRINE OF IMPUTED SANCTI- 
 FICATION, NEWLY ADOPTED. —THE 
 OLD ONE OF PROGRESSIVE SANCTI- 
 
 F1CATION NEWLY REJECTED THE 
 
 ADOPTION OF THE ONE AND THE 
 REJECTION OF THE OTHER HOSTILE 
 TO PRAYER. — ST. PAUL'S CHARAC- 
 TER. * 
 
 We have hitherto spoken of errors in 
 prayer. We come now to errors of 
 opinion, which supersede the necessity of 
 prayer itself. There are moral as well as 
 speculative corruptions gaining ground 
 amongst us, and there is an involution of 
 one in the folds of the other. When 
 men once indulge themselves in any 
 deviation from . the course so plainly 
 marked out, in that only unerring road- 
 book, the gospel of Jesus Christ, they can 
 never be sure where the first turning off 
 may lead them. 
 
 R
 
 362 IMPUTED SANCT1FICATI0N. 
 
 When a man, with more ingenuity than 
 sober judgment, wishes to introduce a 
 novel error; in order to work success- 
 fully, and prevent the suspicion of his 
 design, he commonly seizes on some 
 acknowledged truth for his basis. On 
 this truth he raises his own fanciful super- 
 structure, but with little departure at 
 first from the avowed design ; so that his 
 gradual deviation from it makes the 
 error continue still to look so much like 
 truth, that ordinary observers will not 
 easily detect where the old truth ends, or 
 where the new fabrication begins and to- 
 tally changes the character of the origi- 
 nal edifice. 
 
 The great and glorious doctrine of the 
 New Testament was to exalt the Saviour 
 and to humble the sinner ; the new doc- 
 trine is to exalt the sinner also, and in 
 that proportion to establish and secure 
 him in sin. For if the Saviour's righte- 
 ousness by transfer becomes so far the 
 believer's righteousness, as to become, in 
 the new language, his own personal
 
 IMPUTED SANCTIFICATION. 363 
 
 holiness, he has in his own person 
 " whereof to glory," and any further 
 attainment is anomalous ; or at best this 
 transfer is even less rational, and evi- 
 dently more removed from common 
 sense as well as from charity, than the 
 doctrine of supererogation itself ; for that 
 only teaches that some men were rich in 
 good works enough and to spare ; but 
 this, instead of the friendly disposal of 
 such superfluous wealth, teaches that w T e 
 have none worth keeping, and that if we 
 had, there is a provision made for render- 
 ing it utterly useless. 
 
 A distorted truth then, is worse than 
 an original falsehood, because it deceives 
 the injudicious and ill-informed by re- 
 taining some little vestige of the truth 
 they had been taught to venerate. Thus, 
 they who pretend to add new glory to the 
 character and offices of Christ, are in 
 effect dishonouring by misrepresenting 
 him. It is a fearful fact, that the holiest 
 doctrine may be perverted, till, instead 
 t>f its being the source of salvation, it 
 r 2
 
 364 IMPUTED SANCTIFICATION. 
 
 becomes a fountain of impiety. Instead 
 of humbling the sinner, it confirms him 
 in sin ; instead of purifying, it corrupts ; 
 instead of sobering, it inebriates; and 
 lands him on a daring and presumptuous 
 confidence. Instead of promoting the 
 cause of God, as it professes, it advances 
 that of Satan. It is a false light which 
 leads to utter darkness, for " if the light 
 which is in thee be darkness, how great 
 is that darkness 1" 
 
 This error is so much worse than any 
 other sin, as by fair and legitimate deduc- 
 tion it renders all virtue anomalous, and 
 consequently all prayer ridiculous. Vir- 
 tue cannot be needed, where to be like 
 minded with Christ is replaced, or made 
 synonymous with having his holiness 
 substituted for our own ; and prayer can- 
 not be upheld in any one of its essential 
 qualities, where no room is left in the 
 heart for self-distrust, meekness, lowli- 
 ness of spirit, the fear of offending God, 
 and the sense of dependence on him for 
 V more grace."
 
 PROGRESSIVE SANCTIFICATTON. 363 
 
 Much has also been advanced in favor 
 of another kindred doctrine, a doctrine 
 with which St. Peter must have been 
 utterly unacquainted, when he exhorted 
 his converts to " grow in grace and in 
 the knowledge of Jesus Christ." St. 
 Paul could not have heard of it when he 
 said to the Thessalonians " I am bound 
 to thank God that your faith groweth 
 exceedingly." The preceding opinion 
 having encouraged the new proselytes, 
 for they can create as well as destroy, has 
 called another into existence, that there is 
 no siceh thing as progressive sanctifica~ 
 tion. This novel doctrine, if practically 
 adopted, would not fail to contribute its 
 full share to the extermination of any 
 remains o£ moral goodness, which its pre- 
 cursor might have left behind. It may 
 indeed deserve some little toleration, 
 when its founder shall have been able to 
 produce one individual child of Adam, 
 who is already as good as he ought to be, 
 or even as he might have been. 
 
 If this doctrine be true, a large portion 
 r 3
 
 366 PROGRESSIVE SANCTIFICATION. 
 
 of Scripture must be abandoned to the 
 clippers and mutilators of the sacred 
 volume; for what becomes of the gra- 
 cious promise of being " renewed from 
 day to day ?" what of the precept " to 
 increase and abound more and more ?'* 
 what of the incessant inculcation of this 
 command, repeated in all the various 
 forms which language could supply ; a 
 command of which neither the variety of 
 the illustration, nor of the language 
 which conveys it, ever alters the idea, 
 an idea which, lik£ a golden thread, runs 
 through the whole fabric of the New 
 Testament. 
 
 We have been accustomed to hear that 
 fervent prayer, through the influence of 
 the Divine Spirit, is the grand instrument 
 of this renew r al ; and it is on this ground 
 that we have ventured to introduce^ the 
 subject here, as connected with the gene- 
 ral design of these pages. But the pre- 
 sent doctrine completes what the former 
 had commenced, and renders prayer 
 wholly inapplicable to all spiritual ends :
 
 PROGRESSIVE SANCTIFICATION. 367 
 
 it leaves us nothing to implore, but merely 
 temporal advantages ; nothing to ask, but 
 things only which will end when this 
 life ends. It would abolish the neces- 
 sity of every petition in the Lord's prayer, 
 except that for our daily bread. 
 
 Why will not those who profess to 
 make the Bible the only rule of their 
 faith and practice, learn from that Bible, 
 that diffidence and reverential awe, that 
 frank avowal of their own ignorance, that 
 humble withholding from intruding into 
 unrevealed things, and that devout gra- 
 titude for the glorious things which are 
 revealed, which best become blind, ig- 
 norant and dependent creatures ? 
 
 If this newly invented doctrine were 
 true, what would become of the useless 
 interval of life, useless as to all possi- 
 bility of improvement, which is the great 
 end of life, the interval between the de- 
 cisive moment of complete sanctification 
 and our closing scene ? 
 
 The unanswerable argument in favor 
 of progressive holiness, is the progress 
 r 4>
 
 368 PROGRESSIVE SANCTIFICATION. 
 
 itself. The man to whom it was asserted, 
 that there was no such thing as motion, 
 made the most definitive answer, — he 
 got up and walked. 
 
 Every advance of the Christian in- 
 clines him to push on to still further 
 advances. But under the influence of 
 this stationary principle the busy cur- 
 rent of life would become a stagnant 
 pool. It is motion which gives the sense 
 of spiritual, as well as natural life. It is 
 progress which gives the sustaining feel- 
 ing, not of independent, but of infused 
 strength. Hope, which is the pulse of 
 spiritual life, would not only intermit, 
 but stand still. " Is this all," would the 
 disappointed Christian say ? " Shall I 
 never be more holy than I now am ? I 
 do not find the right sort of rest in being 
 a fixture." Torpor is not ease, numbness 
 is not relief. It is exercise, riot indo- 
 lence, which induces safe and wholesome 
 repose. 
 
 New difficulties, fresh trials, unknown 
 temptations may yet assail us in our
 
 PROGRESSIVE SANCTIFICATION. 369 
 
 mortal journey, which will require new 
 applications to the Throne of Grace for 
 support. With that support promised to 
 prayer, though " Alps on Alps arise," 
 we need not be discouraged. For if our 
 progress be an upward, it is an onward 
 path, and the acclivity diminishes the 
 higher we ascend. Difficulties may be 
 great, but with the grace of God they 
 will not be insuperable. God is not only 
 strong, but Strength. Yet let us not aim 
 at an ascent above our promised support. 
 In aspiring to reach a visionary elevation, 
 we lose the height we had actually 
 gained. 
 
 It is curious to observe, how naturally 
 one invention involves another. We 
 find an instructive illustration of this 
 truth in a Pagan fable. Dasdalus was 
 not only made a prisoner himself in the 
 labyrinth of his own projecting, but like 
 the projectors of the new theological 
 metaphysics, he was no sooner involved 
 in its mazes, than he went on to study a 
 new and still wilder contrivance. But 
 r ,5
 
 370 PROGRESSIVE SANCTTFICATION. 
 
 his next invention, his wings of wax, in 
 which he trusted to secure his flight, in 
 their ultimate result betrayed their in- 
 sufficiency. His incautious companion, 
 by mounting above the prescribed region 
 of safety, exposed his artificial wings to 
 be melted by the sun, as a punishment 
 for approaching it too nearly. His fate 
 was the inevitable consequence of his 
 temerity. 
 
 If we were completely and instantane- 
 ously sanctified, such a state would boldly 
 contradict the character of our human 
 condition, every where described in Scrip- 
 ture, namely, that life is to the end a 
 journey, a conflict, a race, a warfare, 
 whereas in the new scheme all would 
 be peace ; the Christian would have no 
 more to tempt, no more to fear, no 
 more to resist, in short, as to security, 
 earth would be heaven. 
 
 Every thing that is great is progressive. 
 The noblest things are the longest in 
 attaining their perfection. This analogy 
 subsists in nature, and in grace. Surely, 
 
 *3
 
 CHARACTER OF SAINT PAUL. 371 
 
 then, there is no assignable period, when 
 our virtues will be incapable of addition ; 
 when our duties will be finished ; when 
 our piety will have soared to such a pitch 
 as to render a higher elevation impossible, 
 as to render prayer, not only unnecessary, 
 but absurd. 
 
 Saint Paul's conversion was indeed 
 instantaneous, but it was miraculous. 
 Yet, though it was attended with circum- 
 stances peculiar to itself; though the 
 shining light from heaven surrounded 
 him ; though, to evidence the miracle, he 
 heard the voice of the Lord Jesus him- 
 self; though his natural sight was taken 
 from him, preparatory to the opening of 
 his spiritual eyes ; though his change was 
 of this distinguished character, yet did he 
 stop short there ? So far from it, he only 
 began to cry out, " Lord, what wilt thou 
 have me to do?" Thus we see, that the 
 instantaneous conversion was prayer ; 
 practical prayer ; prayer which in* 
 volved doing ; prayer which denoted 
 progress. , 
 
 r 6
 
 CHARACTER OF SAINT PAUL. 
 
 If ever progressive sanctification was 
 exhibited in the life, as well as writings 
 of any one man more than another, it 
 was in this heroic champion of divine 
 truth. If ever one man more than an- 
 other had a right to depend on his own 
 safe state, it was the divinely illuminated 
 Saint Paul. 
 
 Yet did he spend his after-life in self- 
 satisfaction and indolent security ? Did 
 he ever cease to watch, or pray, or la- 
 bour? Did he ever cease to press the 
 duty of prayer on his most established 
 converts ? Did he, in the confidence of 
 supremely eminent gifts> ever cease him- 
 self to pray ? Were his exertions ever 
 abridged ; his self-denial ever dimi- 
 nished ? Did he rest satisfied with pre- 
 sent, though supernatural attainments? 
 Did he remember the things which were 
 behind ? Did he live upon the good he 
 had already done, or the grace he had 
 already received ? Did he count him- 
 self to have attained ? Did he stop in 
 the race set before him ? Did not he
 
 CHARACTER OF SAINT PAUL. 378 \ 
 
 press forward ? Did not his endeavours 
 grow with his attainments ? Did not his 
 humility, and sense of dependence out- 
 strip both ? If he feared being a cast- 
 away, after the unutterable things he had 
 seen and heard, and after the wonders he 
 had achieved, shall the best man on earth 
 be contented to remain as he is ? If it 
 were attempted, the most sanguine man 
 on earth would find it to be impossible ; 
 nothing either in nature or in grace 
 " continueth in one stay." He who does 
 not advance, is already gone back. This 
 glorious, because humble Apostle, went 
 on in progressive sanctification, he con- 
 tinued to grow and to pray, till he at 
 length attained to the measure of the 
 stature of the fulness of Christ. 
 
 But what enabled this unparalleled man 
 to maintain, to the end, this painful con- 
 flict? It was the same support which 
 is still offered to the meanest Christian. 
 It was humble, fervent, persevering 
 prayer. It was the spirit of supplication, 
 infused and sustained by " the renewing
 
 374 CHARACTER OF SAINT PAUL. 
 
 of the Holy Ghost," and presented 
 through the divine Mediator. 
 
 And what the Apostle did in his own 
 person, we repeat, he unweariedly pressed 
 upon all his converts. He exhorted them 
 to pray for themselvess, and for each 
 other, in the same spirit in which " he 
 bowed his own knees unto the Father of 
 our Lord Jesus Christ, that they might 
 be strengthened with might by his spirit 
 in the inner man ; — that Christ might 
 dwell in their hearts by faith; — that 
 they might be rooted and grounded in 
 love; — that they might know the love 
 of Christ, which passeth knowledge ; — 
 that they might be filled with all the 
 fulness of God." 
 
 It is obvious why God does not give 
 us the full measure of his grace ; it is in 
 order that we may be induced to pray 
 for it ; and that prayer which we are 
 commanded continually to repeat for 
 greater degrees of grace, is a standing 
 proof of that imperfection in us which 
 requires itj is a perpetual intimation,
 
 CHARACTER OF SAINT PAUL. 375 
 
 that we stand in need of fresh sup- 
 plies, and larger measures of this su- 
 perinduced strength than we have yet 
 attained. 
 
 A sincere Christian must know, be- 
 cause he must feel, that he is an imper- 
 fect Christian ; and to rest satisfied in a 
 state of imperfection is not " fighting 
 the good fight," is not " finishing our 
 course" in the way our beginning pro- 
 mised. As we advance, Providence as- 
 signs us new employments, new trials. 
 Sanctification will never have reached its 
 ultimate point, without that persevering 
 progress which the Scriptures every 
 where inculcate. Do we not rob our- 
 selves of the reward promised to those 
 who strive to go on unto perfection, if 
 we are stopped short by the fatal delusion, 
 that we have already reached it ? 
 
 There is a fearful denunciation in 
 the Apocalypse, and it is made the 
 closing passage of the sacred canon ; it 
 is made a fence, as it were to shield divine 
 truth from the additions and mutilations
 
 376 CHARACTER OF SAINT PAUL. 
 
 of bold intruders ; no less than a tremen- 
 dous menace, that " to him who adds 
 unto these things, God shall add to him 
 the plagues written in this book. To him 
 that takes away, God shall take away his 
 part out of the book of life." 
 
 - 
 
 ; . 
 
 : 
 
 ■ 
 
 : ■ ■ ■ ■ ' 
 
 1
 
 377 
 
 i 
 
 CHARACTER OF THOSE WHO EXPECT 
 SALVATION FOR THEIR GOOD WORKS. 
 — OF THOSE WHO DEPEND ON A 
 
 CARELESS NOMINAL FAITH BOTH 
 
 THESE CHARACTERS UNFAVOURABLE 
 TO PRAYER CHRISTIANITY A RELI- 
 GION OF LOVE WHICH DISPOSES TO 
 PRAYER, EXHIBITED IN A THIRD 
 CHARACTER. 
 
 AVe proceed now to make some observ- 
 ations on two different classes of Christians, 
 who, without neglecting prayer, obstruct 
 its efficacy by certain opinions in imme- 
 diate connection with their practice ^ 
 opinions, which, though in direct oppo- 
 sition to each other, yet, if Christianity 
 be true, are neither of them safe. 
 
 The one, with a pretence of faith, pro- 
 fess to know God j but in works, in a
 
 378 GOOD WORKS AND 
 
 great measure, deny Him ; the other are 
 working out their own salvation, but it is 
 without fear or trembling ; they work, in 
 their own strength, without looking unto 
 God to enable them " to will and to do 
 of His good pleasure." 
 
 While multitudes are ruining them- 
 selves by a fatal reliance on the merit of 
 their own works, it is, perhaps, not say- 
 ing too much to assert that more are 
 undone by a loose, traditional, unex- 
 amined dependence on the Saviour. If 
 many are wrong who think to purchase 
 heaven by their own industry, more err 
 by this cheaper mode of an indefinite and 
 careless reliance on the ill-understood 
 promises of the Gospel. If we cannot, 
 of these two evils, determine which is 
 greater, it would not be difficult to 
 prove that both are equally unfavourable 
 to fervent prayer. 
 
 The careless liver who trusts in an 
 unfounded hope, deceives himself, be- 
 cause he thinks his trust, though he
 
 A NOMINAL FAITH. 379 
 
 never enquires into it, looks more like, 
 grace. 
 
 Good works are rather less likely to 
 deceive always, because those who main- 
 tain their superiority as a doctrine, can- 
 not but see how far they fall themselves, 
 in practice, short of their profession ; so 
 far as to render it evident, that good 
 works are with much greater sedulity 
 performed by that sound class of Chris- 
 tians, who utterly reject any confidence 
 in the performance of them. The for- 
 mer make salvation the easiest possible 
 acquisition ; the other believe it to be 
 difficult, but fancy that the difficulty is 
 to be overcome by a few more good 
 deeds ; which, shall we say, is the more 
 misleading opinion ? 
 
 Yet it must be confessed, that in this 
 age of speculative religion, many do not 
 sufficiently insist on these indispensable 
 indications of a true and lively faith. 
 For, after all, are not the right actions 
 of a consistently holy life, the most une- 
 quivocal outward signs of an inward and
 
 880 GOOD WORKS AND 
 
 spiritual grace ? Not to insist on them, 
 is to despise the value of those substan- 
 tial evidences which our Lord himself 
 made the criterion by which to judge of 
 men, — " by their fruits ye shall know 
 them." The tree of life is no barren 
 tree ; it bears all manner of fruits. 
 
 There is indeed less necessity than ever 
 to decry good works. Men are not so 
 violently addicted to them, as, by the 
 warnings given against them, one might 
 be led to suppose. To exalt good works 
 as the procuring cause of salvation, is to 
 put them in the place of Christ. To de- 
 preciate good works, is to depreciate such 
 a life as Christ has given us both the com- 
 mand, and the example to lead ; that 
 command, of which the language was al- 
 ways one, " if ye love me keep my com- 
 mandments;" and that example which 
 presents such a tissue of holy actions, as 
 nothing but Divinity could exhibit, yet 
 enlightened and assisted humanity may 
 and must aspire to imitate. 
 
 With this command and this example,
 
 A NOMINAL FAITH. 581 
 
 devotion was always indissolubly con- 
 nected. Previously to giving his Divine 
 pattern for the due performance of 
 prayer, he alluded to the actual duty as 
 already well understood and regularly 
 practised ; for doubtless he had habitu- 
 ated them to the duty, before he said, 
 " when ye pray," — " After this manner 
 therefore pray you." 
 
 Faith is the principle which first led 
 the sinner to apply for grace and mercy 
 to the Redeemer of sinners. It is the 
 same principle, which, by its gradual 
 operation, leads to the renewing of his 
 nature, the purifying his heart, and the 
 sanctifying his conduct. This faith, 
 with its practical consequences, must be 
 sought for, by the only means through 
 which it can be obtained, the influence 
 of the Holy Spirit on humble, fervent, 
 spiritual prayer. 
 
 But there is another, and, it is to be 
 feared, a large class, who do good with- 
 out being good. Though this may be
 
 382 GOOD WORKS AND 
 
 too frequently the case j though it is the 
 motive which determines on the quality 
 of the action, yet, if the best action will 
 not save the best man, there is little hope 
 of its efficacy towards the salvation of a 
 bad one. 
 
 Perhaps the man in question is chari- 
 table ; but his charity may be stimulated 
 by his vanity — a too common, but most 
 misleading motive. Perhaps he does a 
 deed of bounty from the too usual hope 
 that this good action may be thrown into 
 the opposite scale against a bad one ; 
 perhaps he hopes that his acts of bene- 
 volence may atone for the irregularities 
 of a disorderly life — but, be this as it 
 may, do not discourage his giving, let 
 him continue to give, the act may improve 
 the principle, he may in time detect the 
 difference of his internal feelings in the 
 performance of a good and a bad action. 
 Perhaps the repetition of his good deeds 
 may lead to a diminution of his bad ones. 
 The passion of shame sometimes operates
 
 A NOMINAL FAITH. 383 
 
 usefully, and every passion being under 
 the control of God, may eventually be 
 made the instrument of good. 
 
 And who does not remember instances 
 in which the frequently repeated bounty 
 was the unprompted feeling of a compas- 
 sionate and liberal heart, of a heart ten- 
 der and kind, though yet unsanctified by 
 religion ? 
 
 Yet who would restrain the right ac- 
 tion ? Who would forbid the gentle deed 
 of charity ? Who would wish to aggra- 
 vate his, perhaps, already awful account, 
 by withholding his hand ? Who would 
 willingly add this omission of what is 
 right to his aggregate sum of what is 
 wrong ? Who would not even hope that 
 it may prove a leading step to what is 
 better? Who would not hope that, as 
 good principles naturally tend to good 
 actions, yet, though it is reversing the 
 usual order, for the stream to lead back 
 to the fountain, yet who knows but the 
 repetition of good actions may not only
 
 384 GOOD WORKS AND 
 
 deter him from such as are bad, but may 
 put his mind into such a frame as may 
 lead him to examine the true principle 
 of action, and thus to find, that though 
 he has unhappily begun at the wrong 
 end, the right end is not even yet unat- 
 tainable ? Who can say that he may not 
 be brought to examine his own heart, 
 and be thus brought to the exercise of 
 cordial prayer ; by that he will be taught 
 to Jmow that " if any man will do the 
 will of God, lie shall know of the doc- 
 trine whether it be of God." 
 
 Our compassionate Redeemer che- 
 rished every hopeful appearance. When 
 he saw some symptoms of goodness in 
 the young Ruler " He loved him. , ' But 
 his amiableness was not religion. Though 
 his obedience to the commandments was 
 less defective than that of many a high 
 professor 4 like others, who confidently 
 trust in their own merit, he enquired 
 not, it is to be feared, so much for im- 
 provement, as from a sense of conscious
 
 A NOMINAL FAITH. 385 
 
 integrity and the hope of commendation, 
 — he enquired what was yet wanting to 
 the perfection of his character. 
 
 He who knew all things, already knew 
 that his love of money was greater than 
 his love of God. Here he saw that this 
 promising character was vulnerable. The 
 one thing he wanted was more than the 
 many things he possessed. He failed in 
 the trial. He had some concern about 
 his soul, but more about his money ; 
 " he went away sorrowing,'* because he 
 could not secure the one without the sa- 
 crifice of the other. 
 
 This is, with us, as much a test of cha- 
 racter now, as it was then. It is not 
 until we see a man acting in direct oppo- 
 sition to his predominant sin that we can 
 venture to hope that he is renewed in the 
 spirit of his mind, that he is even got on 
 right ground. Zaccheus, who probably 
 set out worse than the ruler, obtained this 
 grand victory which the other missed. 
 
 This promising young man, in pro- 
 claiming his obedience to the commands, 
 s
 
 886 GOOD WORKS AND 
 
 did not, however, boast of his devotion > 
 yet, in so moral a character, we cannot 
 suppose that prayer was altogether ne- 
 glected — but it must have been that 
 prayer of which our Lord says " this 
 people draweth nigh unto me with their 
 mouth, and honoureth me with their lips, 
 but their heart is far from me." Had it 
 been sincere prayer, it would have been 
 influential prayer. No slave to avarice 
 can worship God in spirit and in truth, 
 and it is such that the Father seeketh to 
 worship him. While the heart remains 
 unchanged, the temper unsanctified, and 
 the life unfruitful, the prayer has not 
 been " the effectual fervent prayer which 
 availeth much." 
 
 But there is a third character, who, 
 thinking both the others lately noticed 
 to be wrong, is determined himself to be 
 right. He divides the difference, and 
 adopts half of the scheme of each. He 
 approves of works, but doubts their un? 
 assisted efficacy to obtain salvation. He 
 honours the Redeemer, and places con^
 
 A NOMINAL FAITH. 387 
 
 fidence in His sacrifice ; but it is not a 
 full, entire, unmeasured confidence. He 
 thinks the Saviour so far competent to- 
 wards effecting part of his salvation that 
 he eannot be saved without him, but 
 dares not trust Him with the whole. So, 
 without intending to be profane, he 
 enters into a kind of partnership with 
 Him whose blood was made a full, per- 
 fect, and sufficient oblation, and satisfac- 
 tion for the sins of the whole world. He 
 proposes to contribute his own share to 
 a contract of his own making, trusting 
 that, as the Saviour knows he is not per- 
 fect, He will graciously supply whatever 
 is deficient in his services, and make up 
 what is lacking to their perfection, he 
 himself continuing to be the working 
 partner. 
 
 But, if he be a thinking and a feeling 
 character, if he be sincere in his desire 
 after divine truth, though ignorant of its 
 true nature, he at length begins to find 
 that the plan, which he once thought so 
 admirably contrived, does not answer. 
 s 2
 
 388 CHRISTIANITY 
 
 He finds that his spiritual interests do 
 not advance. He begins to discover that 
 his faith is cold, even his work is sluggish, 
 and its progress unsatisfactory. His ex- 
 ertions want the inspiring principle, they 
 want a genuine faith. He begins to dis- 
 cover, that even his good actions, on 
 which he had been accustomed to rest 
 half his salvation, are exceeded by those 
 persons who do more, and put no trust 
 in them. 
 
 He at length, through the influence of 
 divine grace, begins to discover, or ra- 
 ther to feel, that while one party is exclu- 
 sively exalting faith and the other works, 
 both seem to have forgotten, or rather 
 not to have known, that there is a third, 
 a heavenly principle, a sacred cement, 
 without which their separation might be 
 eternal, and even their junction would 
 be imperfect. The sacred principle is 
 love. He now knows, experimentally, 
 that Christianity is a religion of the 
 affections, a sentiment of the heart' — 
 that it demands and confers that charity
 
 A RELIGION OF LOVE. 389 
 
 without which faith is dead, and works 
 are vain. It is that heavenly sentiment, 
 the love of God in Christ shed abroad 
 in the heart, without which he that 
 liveth is counted dead — that principle 
 without which the gift of prophecy, of 
 mysteries, and all knowledge were un- 
 availing — without which, giving all the 
 goods to the poor, and even the body to 
 be burned, will not profit — it is that in- 
 destructible attribute, which, when pro- 
 phecies shall fail, and tongues shall cease, 
 and knowledge vanish away, will never 
 fail — it is that perfect thing which shall 
 subsist when " that which is in part shall 
 be done away." Love will survive when 
 faith shall become sight, and hope shall 
 be fruition. It shall constitute our hap- 
 piness when we shall know God ** even 
 as we are known.*' We shall possess it 
 in its plenitude, when we shall awake up 
 after His likeness. For love, like every 
 other holy disposition, is but an emana- 
 tion of the perfections of God, a spark 
 s 3
 
 390 CHRISTIANITY 
 
 from the original flame, an assimilation 
 to his nature ; since God is love. 
 
 In faith there may be fear ; in works 
 there may be constraint ; but the inspir- 
 ing, invigorating, endearing principle of 
 love changes the fearful slave into the 
 affectionate child ; transforms Him whom 
 we had degraded as a hard master into 
 a tender father. — This love makes la- 
 bour light, service freedom, dependence 
 safety, duty delight, sufferings easy, obe- 
 dience pleasure, submission choice, By 
 the warmth with which he now cultivates 
 this " Unction from the Holy One," he 
 will be rendered more meet for that 
 fulness of joy which is at His right-hand 
 for evermore. 
 
 He has now completely found his own 
 utter insufficiency for this great work* 
 He is in the situation of the newly eon- 
 verted apostle, who had doubtless pre* 
 viously exercised a regular but formal 
 devotion, but it never could have been 
 said of him till then, — " behold he
 
 A RELIGION OF LOVE. 
 
 prayeth !" He begins with lowly pros- 
 tration to besiege the throne of grace ; 
 he now prays with a fervour he never felt 
 before. He goes on to feel, not only its 
 necessity, but its efficacy j gradually 
 acknowledges its transforming power, 
 and in time becomes sensible that its 
 consolations are neither few nor small. 
 
 He now sees objects with other eyes* 
 the visual ray is purged j to his rectified 
 optics — " trees are become men." He 
 now exclaims, " not of works, lest any 
 man should boast." But though he has 
 left off boasting, he is so far from having 
 left off working, that he is far more active 
 in good deeds, than when he trusted 
 they would carry him to heaven ; super- 
 induced humility has completely let him 
 into the secrets of his own heart. He 
 feels wants and desires of which he was 
 never before sensible ; and wants felt 
 readily find a tongue, readily suggest 
 unbidden prayer, unprompted praise. 
 Prayer is become the veiy breath of his 
 being; praise is so much his delight, 
 s 4
 
 392 CHRISTIANITY '* 
 
 that he almost forgets it is his duty. It 
 is no longer his task, but his refreshment. 
 What lately seemed a necessary drudgery, 
 the severe injunction of a hard master, is 
 now the pleasant service of an affection- 
 ate son. 
 
 He is deeply grieved at the time he 
 has lost, but he is no less disposed to 
 retrieve than to lament the past. He 
 has found that the soul will not be saved 
 where the heart is not renewed. Of that 
 renewal by the influence of the Divine 
 Spirit, he is become more and more sen- 
 sible in his devotional exercises. With 
 a deeper sense of imperfection as he 
 becomes less imperfect, he is yet sen- 
 sible of new dispositions, of new energies, 
 of a heart to trust and a will to obey. 
 He feels an increasing desire of con- 
 formity to his Divine Saviour, and such 
 a growth in grace, that with him to will 
 and to do is almost become the same 
 thing. 
 
 All the faculties which God has given 
 him are filled with the idea of God —
 
 A RELIGION OF LOVE. 393 
 
 He retains Him in his memory by the 
 recollection of His mercies — he retains 
 Him in his understanding, by meditating 
 on His perfections. By this intelligent 
 faculty he reflects on what God is in 
 himself, in His word, and to His own 
 soul. In his will, he loves God, and 
 laments that he ever loved any thing in 
 comparison of Him. Thus all his intel- 
 lectual powers, voluntarily as it were, 
 press into the worship of God, or, in the 
 fewer and better words of the Psalmist* 
 he summons them all to assist in his 
 devotions, saying, " Let all that is within 
 me praise the Lord." 
 
 rniri 
 s d
 
 S<H 
 
 
 ■ - 
 
 i 
 
 Mayer. — the condition of its 
 attendant blessings. — useless 
 contention about terms. 
 
 - 
 
 Men contend more about words than 
 about things. A misunderstanding res- 
 pecting them causes more disputes than 
 the subjects of which they are the signs. 
 In speaking, for instance, of the connec- 
 tion between prescribed duties and pro- 
 mised blessings, are there not certain 
 inoffensive and well-meaning words which 
 seem to have brought more reproach on 
 those who use them than their harmless, 
 if not legitimate characters, may be 
 thought to deserve. One of them, in- 
 deed, might expect more gentle treat- 
 ment on the single ground that it is very 
 frequently to be found in the Holy Scrip- 
 tures. 1 3
 
 CONDITIONS AND REWARDS, 395 
 
 The obnoxious terms to which we 
 here allude are rewards and conditions. 
 We have, in general, avoided the use of 
 them, not for any harm discoverable in 
 them when used and understood in the 
 scriptural sense, but for fear of creating 
 an idea contrary to what was intended 
 to be conveyed. In the legal sense they 
 are very exceptionable, for in the one 
 case we deserve nothing from God, and 
 in the other we can do nothing of our- 
 selves. 
 
 We do not presume to make con- 
 ditions with God, but He condescends 
 to propose them to us. In this latter 
 case, it is free grace imposes the reason- 
 able condition : it is free grace bestows 
 the unmerited reward. Are not all the 
 promises of the Gospel conditional ? The 
 beatitudes include both the condition 
 and the reward. Our blessed Saviour, 
 in his sermon, multiplies, and individual- 
 izes his promises. He gives us a string 
 of articles of blessedness and recom- 
 pencej the specific recompence to the 
 s 6
 
 396 CONDITIONS AND REWARDS. 
 
 specific duty ; amongst others, mercy to 
 the merciful ; the kingdom of heaven to 
 those who are persecuted for righteous- 
 ness' sake ; the vision of God to the pure 
 in heart. 
 
 The Holy Spirit consecrates the doc- 
 trine of rewards, by teaching the Apostle 
 to connect it even with the very being 
 of Omnipotence. " God is," and it im- 
 mediately follows, that " he is a rewaqder 
 of them that seek him." Surely this is a 
 Condition, as much as the threat that he 
 will punish those " who know r not God." 
 Every where, and particularly in the 
 Psalms, prayer is made the condition of 
 obtaining. In asking, seeking, and knock- 
 ing, the condition and the reward most 
 appropriately meet. 
 
 To those who come to the Redeemer, 
 he has declared that " they shall in no 
 wise be cast out." Their coming is 
 the condition of their being accepted. 
 " Rest," again, is the consoling promise 
 which he makes to " the heavy laden" 
 who come to him. " He that honoureth
 
 CONDITIONS AND REWARDS. 
 
 me, I will honour," is both a condition 
 and a reward. What is the promise of 
 pardon to repentance, but a condition ? 
 The negative denunciation is a condition. 
 " Ye will not come to me, that ye might 
 have life." " Without holiness no man 
 shall see the Lord ; without faith it is 
 impossible to please God." Do not 
 these imply the blessings attending the 
 contrary temper? State the question 
 thus : Shall we be heard, if we do not 
 pray? Shall we be pardoned, if we do 
 not repent ? 
 
 " Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, the 
 things which God hath prepared for them 
 that love him." It is the love of God 
 then, which is the condition of obtaining 
 those things which the heart of man can- 
 not conceive. 
 
 All the promises made to faith are 
 conditions, as are those made to holiness. 
 The good and faithful servants who well 
 employed their ten and five talents, were 
 rewarded by having their talents doubled j 
 the punishment of their unprofitable com-
 
 M 
 
 S9& CONDITIONS AND REWARDS. 
 
 panion was a conditional punishment. 
 He had made no use of what was com- 
 mitted to him. 
 
 Why is that bright variety of promises, 
 to him that overcometh,' , repeated with 
 such unwearied iteration, in the sublime 
 visions of the saint at Patmos ? What is 
 it but a beautiful concatenation of con- 
 ditions and rewards, closed with that 
 joyful climax, " he that overcometh shall 
 be a pillar in the temple of the Lord, and 
 shall go no more out." If language more 
 clear can be found, if assurances more 
 explicit can be given, if promises more 
 distinct can be produced, we confess we 
 know not where to look for them. Did 
 not Moses himself, the most disinterested 
 of men, look to the recompense of the 
 reward? And did not a greater than 
 Moses, " for the joy that was set before 
 him endure the cross, despising the 
 shame ?" 
 
 Promises like these were the support, 
 and joy, and triumph, of his immediate 
 apostles, and of their remotest successors,
 
 CONDITIONS AND REWARDS. 399 
 
 of Ridley, of Latimer, and Cranmer. 
 They will still be the consolation of the 
 Christian sufferer for righteousness'-sake 
 to the end of time. Let us not then for- 
 feit our inheritance by slighting the 
 promise. 
 
 " This is a reward wholly of grace 
 in respect of our deserving, but of jus- 
 tice, on account of the purchase of it 
 by the sacred treasure of Christ's blood, 
 and the unchangeable tenor of the Gos- 
 pel, wherein God promises heaven to all 
 obedient and true believers." 
 
 The things may be called by other 
 names, but they amount to the same 
 meaning. There is a proud disinterested- 
 ness which would seem to intimate, that, 
 because we deserve nothing we expect 
 nothing. Our expectation, it is true, 
 arises entirely from God's goodness, and 
 not at all from our merit. It arises 
 especially from his fidelity, which leads 
 him to make good his own engagement. 
 He has Himself said, " faithful is He that 
 has promised."
 
 400 CONDITIONS AND REWARDS. 
 
 This view of the subject deducts no- 
 thing from that free salvation purchased 
 for us by the death of the Redeemer. 
 We repeat, it deducts nothing from the 
 sovereignty of God. All the promises 
 are the gracious offers of an amnesty by 
 an insulted King, who condescends to 
 offer a treaty to his rebellious subjects. 
 We deserve nothing at his hands. He 
 owes us nothing. Punishment we do 
 indeed deserve " if He were extreme to 
 mark what is done amiss ;" yet He de- 
 clares that punishment is his strange 
 work. He has reversed the attainder, by 
 the sacrifice of his Son. The attainted 
 rebel, instead of disputing about the 
 terms of reconciliation, instead of pro- 
 posing terms of his own, thankfully 
 accepts what the king offers. Though 
 our pardon hangs on a firm belief in the 
 great truths he has revealed, let us not 
 so explain these as to hazard or neglect 
 the duties he has enjoined us to perform. 
 If our faith, though sincere, is often weak, 
 let us remember, that our obedience 
 
 5
 
 CONDITIONS AND REWARDS. 401 
 
 is even more imperfect than our faith ; 
 and let us, by fervent and unremitting 
 prayer, labour at once to build up our 
 faith which is weak, and to perfect our 
 obedience which is defective. 
 
 God not only pardons as a merciful 
 king, He enacts laws as a wise legislator ; 
 still the old revolutionary principles are 
 continually breaking out; to check which, 
 the sovereign proposes terms as proofs of 
 our allegiance. He does by no means 
 annex salvation to them, but He requires 
 them as marks of our repentance, as con- 
 firmations of our loyalty. He requires 
 them as evidences, both of our faith and 
 of our submission. By the infusion of a 
 new spirit of life consequent on His par- 
 don, the acquitted rebel adopts a new 
 set of principles which shew themselves 
 by overt acts, suggested and nourished 
 by fervent prayer. 
 
 We are aware that the term " evi- 
 dences" used above, is to many no less 
 revolting, than those which we have pre- 
 viously noticed, but by this excessive
 
 40$ C03S5HTIONS AND REWARDS. 
 
 affectation of disinterestedness and re- 
 fining on the promises, we shall come to 
 do away all moral obligation, we shall 
 attenuate the substantial realities of 
 Christianity into a meagre theory, reduce 
 the fruitful principle of practical religion, 
 to a dry and unproductive speculation, a 
 barren thing to which nothing that is 
 perceptible, palpable, tangible, and prac- 
 tical, is necessarily appended. 
 
 On the other hand, it is but too noto- 
 rious, that the terms here humbly ak 
 tempted to be vindicated and restored to 
 their true signification, are too fre- 
 quently made the sum and substance, the 
 whole of religion, till the spirituality of 
 the Gospel, and the great peculiarities of 
 the religion of Jesus, are smothered in 
 the heap of frigid human ethics. 
 
 It is by the promises annexed to these 
 conditions, that the Christian is gra- 
 dually brought to consider prayer, not 
 merely as a duty, but to value it as a 
 privilege ; and the more earnestly he 
 cultivates this spirit of supplication, the
 
 CONDITIONS AND REWARDS. 403 
 
 more deeply will it enable him to pene- 
 trate into the recesses of his own heart. 
 The more he discovers the evils which 
 he there finds, he will be so far from 
 being deterred by the discovery, from 
 approaching to the fountain of mercy, 
 that it will lead him to be more diligent 
 as well as more fervent, in his application 
 there. Nothing so faithfully discovers 
 to us our spiritual exigencies, nothing 
 can quicken our petitions for their relief 
 so powerfully, as the conviction of their 
 actual existence. In this full conviction, 
 in this earnest application, the Christian 
 at length feels the efficacy of prayer in 
 its consolations, its blessedness, in its 
 .transforming power- 

 
 404 
 
 
 
 VAIN EXCUSES FOR THE NEGLECT OF 
 PRAYER.— THE MAN OF BUSINESS. 
 — CASE OF NEHEMIAH. — PRAYER 
 AGAINST THE FEAR OF DEATH.— 
 CHARACTERS TO WHOM THIS PRAYER 
 IS RECOMMENDED. 
 ■ 
 
 i 
 
 I here are not a few, who offer apologies 
 for the neglect of spiritual duties, by 
 saying they believe them to be right, but 
 that they are tempted from the exercise 
 of them by idleness or business, by com- 
 pany or pleasure. This may be true, 
 but temptations are not compulsions. 
 The great adversary of souls may fill the 
 fancy with alluring images of enjoyment, 
 so as to draw us away from any duty, 
 but it is in our own choice to indulge, 
 and through grace to repel them. He
 
 VAIN EXCUSES, &C. 405 
 
 may act upon the passions through out- 
 ward objects, which introduce them to 
 the mind through the senses, but the 
 grace of God enables all who faithfully 
 ask it, to withstand them. 
 
 If we were not at liberty to reject 
 temptation, sin would be no sin. It is 
 the offer of the grace of resistance not 
 used, which makes the offender to be 
 without excuse. All the motives and 
 allurements to sin, would be ineffectual, 
 would we keep up in our minds what are 
 its " wages" — death ; death spiritual, 
 death eternal ! 
 
 Of all the excuses for the neglect of 
 prayer, the man of business justifies his 
 omission to himself, by the most plau- 
 sible apologies. Many of this class, 
 active for themselves, and useful to the 
 world, are far from disputing either the 
 propriety, or the duty of prayer ; they 
 are willing, however, for the present, to 
 turn over this duty to the clergy, to the 
 idle, to women and children. They allow 
 it to be an important thing, but not the
 
 406 VAIN EXCUSES FOR 
 
 most important. They acknowledge, if 
 men have time to spare, they cannot 
 spend it better j but they have no time. 
 It is indeed a duty, but a duty not to be 
 compared with that of the court, the bar, 
 the public office, the counting-house, or 
 the shop. 
 
 Now, in pleading for the importance 
 of the one, we should be the last to 
 detract from that of the other. We only 
 plead for their entire compatibility. 
 
 We pass over the instance of Daniel, a 
 man of business and a statesman, and of 
 many other public characters, recorded in 
 Scripture, and confine ourselves to the 
 example of Nehemiah. * He was not only 
 an officer in the court of the greatest 
 king of the East, but it was his duty to 
 be much in the royal presence. He was, 
 on a particular occasion, under deep 
 affliction ; for Jerusalem was in ruins ! 
 On a certain day his sadness was so 
 great, as to be visible to the king, at 
 whose table he was attending. 
 
 The monarch enquired the cause of
 
 THE NEGLECT OF PRAYER. 407 
 
 his sorrow, and what request he had to 
 make. He instantly " prayed to the 
 God of heaven," doubtless to strengthen 
 him, and then made his petition to the 
 king for no less a boon, than to allow 
 him to rebuild the walls of the sacred 
 city. His prayer preceded his request. 
 It was that prayer, which gave him cou- 
 rage to present that petition, and which 
 probably induced the sovereign to grant 
 it. What a double encouragement is here 
 given to the courtier, both to pray to 
 God, and to speak truth to a king ! 
 
 Though the plea of the man of busi- 
 ness, for his own particular exemption, 
 can by no means be granted, yet it is the 
 sense he entertains of the value of his 
 professional duties, which deceives him. 
 It leads him to believe, that there can be 
 no evil in substituting business for devo- 
 tion. He is conscious that he is indus- 
 trious, and he knows that industry is a 
 great moral quality. He is rightly per- 
 suaded, that the man of pleasure has no 
 such plea to produce. He therefore in)*
 
 408 VAIN EXCUSES FOR 
 
 poses on himself, with the belief that 
 there can be no harm in substituting a 
 moral for a religious exercise ; for he has 
 learned to think highly of morality, while 
 he assigns to religion only an inferior 
 degree in his scale of duties. 
 
 He usually goes to church once on the 
 Sunday ; but it does not at all infringe 
 on his religious system to examine his 
 accounts, to give a great dinner, or to 
 begin a journey on that day. 
 
 Now it is a serious truth, that there is 
 no man to whom prayer is more impe- 
 ratively a duty, or more obviously a 
 necessity, than to the man of business ; 
 whether in the higher or the middle 
 classes of society. There is no man who 
 more stands in need of quieting his 
 anxieties, regulating his tempers, cooling 
 his spirits by a devout application for the 
 blessing of God ; none to whom it is 
 more necessary to implore the divine 
 protection for the duties, or preservation 
 from the dangers, of the scene in which 
 he is about to engage j none to whom-
 
 VAIN EXCUSES. 409 
 
 it is more important to solicit direction 
 in the difficulties which the day may 
 produce ; none on whom it is more in- 
 cumbent to solicit support against the 
 temptations which may be about to assail 
 him j none to whom the petition for an 
 enlightened conscience, an upright inten- 
 tion, a sound probity, and an undevi- 
 ating sincerity, is of more importance. 
 
 What is so likely as prayer to enable 
 him to stand prepared to meet the acci- 
 dental fluctuations in his affairs, to re- 
 ceive without inebriation, a sudden flow 
 of prosperous fortune, or to sustain any 
 adverse circumstance with resignation ? 
 
 Even persons in more retired situ- 
 ations, even those who have made consi- 
 derable advances in religion, cannot but 
 acknowledge how much the ordinary 
 and necessary cares of daily life, espe- 
 cially, how much any unexpected acces- 
 sion to them, are likely to cause absence 
 and distraction in their devotions : — 
 how much then ought they, whose whole 
 life is business, to be on their guard 
 x
 
 410 FEAR OF DEATH. 
 
 against these dangers, to double their 
 vigilance against them, and to implore 
 direction under them. 
 
 Were the Christian soldier accustomed 
 never to engage in the moral battle of 
 daily life, without putting on this panoply, 
 the shafts of temptation would strike with 
 a feeble and erring blow ; they would not 
 so deeply pierce the guarded heart. And 
 were fervent humble daily prayer once 
 conscientiously adopted, its effects would 
 reach beyond the week-day engagements. 
 It would gradually extend its benign 
 influence to the postponing of settling 
 accounts, the festive dinner, and the not 
 absolutely necessary journey, to one of 
 those six days in which we are enjoined 
 to labour. It would lead him to the 
 habit of doing " no manner of work" on 
 that day, in which the doing of it was 
 prohibited by the great Lawgiver in his 
 own person. 
 
 We have more than once alluded to 
 the diversities of character, occasional 
 events, difference in the state of mind,
 
 FEAR OF DEATH. 411 
 
 as well as of circumstances, which may 
 not only render the prayer which is 
 suitable to one man unsuitable to another, 
 but unsuitable to the same man under 
 every alteration of circumstances. 
 
 But among the numerous topics for 
 prayer, there is one which, being of uni- 
 versal interest, ought not to be omitted. 
 For by whatever dissimilarity of cha- 
 racter, capacity, profession, station, or 
 temper, the condition of man, and, of 
 course, the nature of prayer, is diver- 
 sified — there is one grand point of union, 
 one circumstance, one condition, in which 
 they must all meet ; one state, of which 
 every man is equally certain ; one event 
 which happeneth to all, — " it is appoint- 
 ed unto every man once to die." The 
 rugged road of sorrow, the flowery path 
 of pleasure, as well as 
 
 " The paths of glory, lead but to the grave." 
 
 In praying, therefore, against the fear 
 of death, we do not pray against a con- 
 tingent but a certain evil j we pray to be 
 t 2
 
 412 FEAR OF DEATH. 
 
 delivered from the overwhelming dread oi 
 that house which is appointed for all 
 living — we are put in mind that all who 
 are born must die ! ob wn>Stiii' 
 
 " The end of all things is at hand." 
 To what purpose does the Apostle con- 
 vert this awful proclamation ? Does he 
 use it to encourage gloomy tempers, to 
 invite to unprofitable melancholy ? No : 
 he uses the solemn admonition to stir us 
 up to moral goodness — therefore, " be 
 sober" -— he does more, he uses it to 
 excite us to religious vigilance, — «« and 
 watch unto prayer." 
 
 Some men, and they are not the best 
 men, talk boldly of death, especially 
 while they suppose it to be at a distance ; 
 but this boastful heroism is a very equi- 
 vocal symptom of their being in a proper 
 state to meet it. Others of a less con- 
 fident, but not more serious cast of mind, 
 take pains to keep it as far as possible 
 from their thoughts, lest the indulging 
 such gloomy reflections should make 
 them uneasy, and embitter their pre-
 
 PEAR OF DEATH, 413 
 
 * ent enjoyments. They banish it, indeed, 
 from their thoughts, as they do other 
 unpleasant subjects; but it is no proof 
 that we do not fear a thing, because we 
 manage to keep it out of sight ; on the 
 contrary, the effort betrays the very fear 
 which it denies. 
 
 There is an inconsistency in the cha- 
 racter of man, so preposterous, that we 
 should not believe it, if we did not feel as 
 well as see it. We continue eagerly to 
 catch at the things which are always 
 sliding from us, and which no grasp of 
 ours can retain, whilst we forget the 
 things that are not only hastening to 
 meet us, but which will remain with us, 
 not through time only, but eternity. 
 
 Others are afraid to think of death, for 
 the same reason that they are afraid to 
 make their will, lest it should bring it 
 nearer : but we know that the thought will 
 keep up the remembrance without acce- 
 lerating the approach; familiarity with 
 the idea is the best means of conquering 
 the fear. It is not pusillanimity, but 
 t 3
 
 414 FEAR OF DEATH. 
 
 prudence so to fear death as to fear to 
 meet it in an unprepared state of mind ; 
 and that fear will always be safe and 
 salutary, which leads to the preparation. 
 
 Prayer against the fear of death, by 
 keeping up in us a constant remembrance 
 of our mortality, will help to wean us 
 from a too intimate attachment to the 
 things we are so soon to quit. By this 
 habitual preparation to meet our Judge, 
 we shall be brought to pray more ear- 
 nestly for an interest in the great Inter- 
 cessor; and to strive more effectually 
 against every offence which may aggra- 
 vate the awfulness of that meeting. — 
 Above all, such prayer will more empha- 
 tically remind us that it was sin which 
 brought death into the world, which in- 
 troduced that original principle and first 
 act of sin, from which all our natural 
 evil, and practical offences are derived. 
 
 But let us not be accustomed to think 
 of death as a detached and separate 
 object, as the mere insulated circum- 
 stance of its closing our eyes for ever on
 
 FEAR OF DEATH. 415. 
 
 all we have been accustomed to cherish j 
 let us not think of it only as a consign- 
 ment to the narrow chambers of the 
 tomb, but let us ever connect with the 
 idea of death, the consoling assurance 
 that, to the real Christian, its sting is 
 drawn out : this will fill the heart with 
 boundless love and endless gratitude to 
 Him who has extracted it. This thought 
 of death, though it will keep, up in the 
 mind the anticipation of that night, 
 winch, as to this world shall know no 
 morning, will also keep up the glorious 
 prospect of that eternal day which shall 
 know no night. 
 
 Fervent prayer that divine grace may 
 prepare us for death will, if cordially 
 adopted, answer many great moral pur- 
 poses. It will remind every individual 
 of every class that ff the time is short" — 
 that " there is no repentance in the 
 grave." 
 
 To the man of opulence, who heapeth 
 up riches and cannot tell who shall gather 
 them, prayer will be a constant memento - 
 t 4
 
 416 FEAR OF DEATH. 
 
 it will remind him that he walketh in a 
 vain shadow, and disquieteth himself in 
 vain ; it will remind him of laying up 
 treasures where thieves cannot enter, nor 
 rust corrode. 
 
 The habit of praying against the fear 
 of death would check the pride of youth- 
 ful beauty , by reminding her how soon 
 it must say to the worm, thou art my 
 father, and to corruption thou art my 
 mother and my sister. 
 
 The man of genius, he who thought 
 that of making many books there would 
 be no end j who, in his zeal to write, 
 had neglected to pray j who had thought 
 little of any immortality but that which 
 was to be conferred by the applause of 
 dying creatures like himself j who, in 
 the vanity of possessing talents, had for- 
 gotten that he must one day account 
 for the application of them ; if happily 
 he should be brought to see the evil of 
 his own heart, to feel the wants of his 
 own soul* how intense will be his repent- 
 ance, that he had loved the praise of
 
 FEAR OF DEATH. 
 
 417 
 
 men more than the praise of God ! how 
 fervently will he pray that his mercies 
 may not aggravate the account of his 
 sins ; that his talents may not become 
 the instrument of his punishment! How 
 earnestly will he supplicate for pardon, 
 how devoutly will he " give glory to 
 God before his feet stumble on the dark 
 mountains V 
 
 The man of business, to whom we have 
 already adverted, who thought his 
 schemes so deeply laid, his speculations 
 so prudently planned, that nothing 
 could frustrate them ; who calculated 
 that the future was as much in his 
 power as the present, forgot that death, 
 that grand subverter of" projects, might 
 interpose his veto. This man, who could 
 not find time to pray, must find time to 
 die — he may at length find — happy if 
 he ever find it, that he cannot meet his 
 end with a peaceful heart, and a resigned 
 spirit, without the preparation of prayer 
 ibr support m that awful period, i( when 
 T 5
 
 418 FEAR OF DEATH. 
 
 his purposes shall be broken off and 
 all his thoughts perish." 
 
 The man of pleasure, alas! what shall 
 we say for him? He is sunk to the 
 lowest step of degradation in the moral 
 scale ; he has not even human supports ; 
 he has robbed himself even of the ordi- 
 nary consolations resorted to by ordinary 
 men. He has no stay on which to lay 
 hold, no twig at which to catch, no pre- 
 tence by which to flatter himself into a 
 false peace -, no recollection of past use^ 
 fulness : he has neither served his 
 country, nor benefited society — what 
 shall we say for him? If he pray not 
 for himself, we must pray for him — 
 with God all things are possible. 
 
 The Statesman, indefatigable in the 
 public service, distinguished for integrity, 
 but neglecting the offices of Christianity \ 
 whose lofty character power had not 
 warped, nor cupidity debased, but whose 
 religious principles, though they had 
 never been renounced, had not been
 
 FEAR OF DEATH. 419 
 
 kept in exercise; a spirit of rare disin- 
 terestedness j a moralist of unblenched 
 honour, but who pleaded that duty had 
 left him little time for devotion ! Should 
 divine grace incline him at last to seek 
 God, should he begin to pray to be pre- 
 pared for death and judgment, he will 
 deeply regret with the contrite cardinal, 
 not that he served his king faithfully, 
 but that his highest services had not 
 been devoted to their highest object. 
 In this frame of mind, that ambition 
 which was satisfied with what earth 
 could give, or kings reward, will ap- 
 pear no longer glorious in his eyes. 
 True and just to his sovereign, devoted to 
 his country, faithful to all but his God 
 and himself j he now laments that he had 
 neglected to seek a better country, 
 neglected to serve the King Eternal, the 
 blessed and only Potentate ; neglected 
 to obtain an interest in a kingdom which 
 shall not be moved. He feels that mere 
 patriotism, grand as is its object, and 
 important as is its end, will not afford 
 x 6 
 
 \
 
 420 FEAR OF DEATH. 
 
 support to a soul sinking at the approach 
 of the inevitable hour, at the view of final 
 judgment. 
 
 The hero, who, in the hot engagement, 
 surrounded with the " pride, pomp, and 
 circumstance of war," bravely defied 
 death, forgot all that was personal, and 
 only remembered- — nobly remembered, 
 his country, and his immediate duty j — 
 animated with the glory that was to 
 be acquired by his arm, and almost 
 ready to exclaim with the Roman patriot 5 
 
 " What pity 
 
 That we can die but once to serve our country !" 
 
 yet this hero, if he had never made a 
 conscience of prayer, may he not here- 
 after find, that the most successful in- 
 strumentality is a distinct thing in itself, 
 and will be different in its results, from 
 personal piety ? May he not find that, 
 though he saved others, himself he can- 
 not save ? 
 
 If, however, in after-life, in the cool 
 shade of honourable retirement, he be
 
 FEAR OF DEATH. 421 
 
 brought, through the grace of God, to 
 habituate himself to earnest prayer, he 
 will deeply regret that he ever entered 
 the field of battle without imploring the 
 favour of the God of battles ; that he 
 had ever returned alive from slaughtered 
 squadrons, without adoring the Author 
 of his providential preservation. If his 
 penitence be sincere, his prayer will be 
 effectual. It will fortify him under the 
 more depressing prospect of that death 
 which is soon to be encountered in the 
 solitude of his darkened chamber, without 
 witnesses, without glory, without the cheer- 
 ing band, without the spirit-stirring drum; 
 without the tumultuous acclamation j 
 with no objects to distract his attention ; 
 no conflicting concerns to divide his 
 thoughts; no human arm, either of 
 others or his own, on which to depend. 
 This timely reflection, this late, though 
 never too late prayer, may still prepare 
 him for a peaceful dying-bed ; may lead 
 him to lean on a stronger arm than his 
 own, or that of an army j may conduct
 
 422 FEAR OF DEATH. 
 
 him to a victory over his last enemy, 
 and thus dispose him to meet death in a 
 safer state than when he despised it in 
 the field ; may bring him to acknowledge, 
 that while he continued to live without 
 subjection to the Captain of his salvation, 
 though he had fought bravely, he had 
 not yet fought the good fight. 
 
 i
 
 423 
 
 
 THE CONSOLATIONS OF PRAYER — ITS 
 PERPETUAL OBLIGATION. 
 
 In addition to what has already been 
 observed, as to convenient seasons for 
 prayer, we cannot but remark, that 
 many Christians have been enabled to 
 convert their trials into blessings, by 
 gradually bringing themselves to devote 
 the hours of wakeful and even painful 
 nights to devout meditation and prayer. 
 By doing at first some violence to their 
 inclinations, they have afterwards found 
 in it both profit and pleasure. The night 
 has been made to them a season of heart- 
 searching thought and spiritual consola- 
 tion. Solitude and stillness completely 
 shut out the world ; its business, its 
 cares, its impertinences. The mind is 
 sobered, the passions are stilled, it seems,
 
 CONSOLATIONS OF PRAYER. 
 
 to the watchful Christian as if there 
 were in the universe only God and his 
 own soul. It is an inexpressible conso- 
 lation to him to feel that the one Being 
 in the universe, who never slumbereth 
 , nor sleepeth, is the very Being to whom 
 he has free access, even in the most un- 
 seasonable hours. The faculties of the 
 mind may not, perhaps, be in their 
 highest exercise; but the affections of the 
 heart, from the exclusion of distracting 
 objects, more readily ascend to their 
 noblest object. Night and darkness are 
 no parasites : conscience is more easily 
 alarmed. It puts on fewer disguises. 
 We appear to ourselves more what we 
 really are. This detection is salutary. 
 The glare which the cheerful daylight, 
 business, pleasure, and company, had 
 shed over all objects, is withdrawn. 
 Schemes which, in the day had appeared 
 plausible, now present objections. What 
 had then appeared safe, now, at least, 
 seems to require deliberation. This 
 silent season of self-examination, is a
 
 CONSOLATIONS OF PRAYER. 425 
 
 keen detector of any latent evil, which, 
 like the fly in the box of perfume, may 
 corrupt much that is pure. 
 
 When this communion with God can 
 be maintained, it supplies deficiencies of 
 devotion to those who have little leisure 
 during the day ; and, by thus rescuing 
 these otherwise lost hours, it snatches 
 time from oblivion, at once adds to the 
 length of life, and weans from the love 
 of it. 
 
 If the wearied and restless body be 
 tempted to exclaim " would God it were 
 morning," the very term suggests the 
 most consoling of all images. The 
 quickened mind shoots forward beyond 
 this vale of tears, beyond the dark val- 
 ley of the shadow of death - y it stretches 
 onward to the joyful morning of the 
 Resurrection ; it anticipates that blessed 
 state where there is no more weeping 
 and no more night — no weeping, for 
 God's own hand shall wipe away the 
 tears j no night, for the Lamb himself 
 shall be the light.
 
 426 CONSOLATIONS OP flUYEK* 
 
 If disqualifying pain, or distressing 
 languor, prevent the utterance of sup- 
 plication, patience is itself a prayer, and 
 a prayer which will not fail to be heard. 
 We have a striking instance of an answer 
 to silent prayer, in the case of Moses. 
 In a situation of extreme distress, when 
 he had not uttered a word, " the Lord 
 said unto him, I have heard thy cry- 
 ing." 
 
 The tender mercy of our compassion- 
 ate Father will make sense, and find 
 meaning in a prayer which is almost un- 
 intelligible to the languid sufferer who 
 offers it. God wants not to be informed, 
 he wants only to be remembered, to be 
 loved, to be sought. 
 
 If, however, in the conduct of this 
 nightly watching, and this nightly prayer, 
 your own stock of thought or expression 
 is absolutely deficient, prophets and 
 apostles will not only afford you the most 
 encouraging examples, but most profit- 
 able assistance. More especially the 
 royal treasury of king David lies open to
 
 CONSOLATIONS OF PRAYER. 427 
 
 you ; and whatever are your wants, there 
 your resources are inexhaustible. 
 
 What joyful appeals does the psalmist 
 make to Him to whom the darkness and 
 the light are both alike ! " Have I not 
 remembered Thee in my bed, and 
 thought upon Thee when I was waking ?" 
 " In the night," he again exclaims, " I 
 commune with my own heart, and search 
 out my spirit. ,, And of this holy prac- 
 tice was he so little weary, that he re- 
 solves to persevere in it. " As long as 
 I live will I magnify Thee in this man- 
 ner." Similar to this is the apostrophe 
 of the evangelical prophet. — " With my 
 soul have I desired Thee in the night." 
 
 The Psalms of David exhibit the finest 
 specimen of experimental and devotional 
 religion in the world. They are attended 
 with this singular advantage and this 
 unspeakable comfort, that in them God 
 speaks to us and we speak to Him. This 
 delightful interlocution between the King 
 of saints and the penitent sinner ; this 
 interchange of character, this mixture of
 
 428 CONSOLATIONS OF PRAYER. 
 
 prayer and promise, of help implored and 
 grace bestowed, of weakness pleaded 
 and strength imparted, of favour shown 
 and gratitude returned, of prostration on 
 one part and encouragement on the 
 other, of abounding sorrow, and over- 
 flowing mercy, this beautiful variety of 
 affecting intercourse Jbetween sinful dust 
 and infinite goodness, lifts the abased 
 penitent into the closest and most ele- 
 vating communion with his Saviour and 
 his God. 
 
 Yet, inestimable as are the Psalms of 
 David, in every point of view, and espe- 
 cially for the purpose here recommended, 
 as a refuge for the suffering body, the 
 wakeful mind, the praying spirit, and the 
 oppressed heart — that very sanctity, and 
 depth of devotional feeling, which is their 
 life-blood, may lead to a dangerous misap- 
 plication in the mouth of the irreligious. 
 Holy expressions in prayer, and ebulli- 
 tions of grateful praise, are more easily 
 committed to the memory, than im- 
 pressed upon the heart. And is there
 
 CONSOLATIONS OF PRAYER. 429 
 
 not some danger, that not only the mere 
 formalist, but even the immoral man may 
 apply to himself sentiments, declarations, 
 assurances, and comforts, which can only 
 belong to the real Christian? For in- 
 stance ; the arrogant man, as if, like the 
 dervise in the Persian fable, he had shot 
 his soul into the character he assumes, 
 repeats with complete self-application, 
 " Lord, I am not high-minded ;" the 
 trifler says, " I hate vain thoughts ;" the 
 irreligious, " Lord, how I love thy law." 
 He who seldom prays at all, confidently 
 repeats, " All the day long I am occupied 
 in thy statutes." The covetous, in the 
 words of Paul or David, with as much 
 self-complacency deprecates avarice, as if 
 the anathema against it had ever opened 
 either his heart or his purse. 
 
 On the other hand, as the hardest 
 substances, by continual attrition, are at 
 length penetrated, it is the pleasing task 
 of charity to hope, that the habitual repe- 
 tition of such feelings, sentiments, and 
 principles may sink into the hard heart,
 
 430 CONSOLATIONS OF PRAYER. 
 
 may lead its possessor to look into him- 
 self, to compare what he feels with what 
 he reads, and by discovering the discre- 
 pancy between his life and his prayers, 
 may open his eyes on his own danger, till 
 by the grace of God the holy vehicle of 
 his hypocrisy may be made that of his 
 conversion. 
 
 Perhaps you are a doubting, weak, and 
 trembling penitent ; not indeed doubting 
 of the mercies of God, but of your own 
 interest in them. This feeling may arise 
 from a deep and humbling sense of your 
 own sins and infirmities, rather than from 
 any criminal unbelief. Here comes in to 
 your relief a whole host of gracious pro- 
 mises, peculiarly adapted to your case. 
 The tender images of " the smoking 
 flax," and " the bruised reed," the pro- 
 mised acceptance of " the contrite spirit, 
 and the broken heart." But beyond all 
 praise is the consoling assurance of our 
 great High Priest, that " he is touched 
 with the feeling of our infirmities." 
 Touched with them, not only when he
 
 CONSOLATIONS OF PRAYER. 431 
 
 was " a man of sorrows and acquainted 
 with grief," but now when he is even 
 " ascended to the glory which he had with 
 his Father before the world began." 
 
 How soothing is this expression of the 
 Divine compassion ! It is not barely the 
 hearing or the seeing, it is the feeling of 
 our infirmities. He was in all points 
 tempted like as we are. This is the most 
 exquisite touch of sympathy ; he not only 
 suffered but was tempted ; here indeed 
 the resemblance has its limitation : for 
 he was without sin. He knew the con- 
 dition of " being tempted," but not that 
 of yielding to it. It is this feeling ot 
 being tempted, which gives him such an 
 intimate concern in the feeble, fearful 
 Christian. He sends the angel of his 
 presence, and saves them. What a strik- 
 ing confirmation of the blessed truth, 
 that in all our afflictions he is afflicted, 
 is the awful interrogation, " Saul, Saul, 
 why persecutest thou," — not my church, 
 but " wmfif
 
 i3% CONSOLATIONS OF PRAYER. 
 
 It is a further encouragement to the 
 dejected spirit, that the Almighty was 
 not contented to show his willingness to 
 pardon by single declarations, however 
 strong and full. He has heaped up 
 words, he has crowded images, he has 
 accumulated expressions, he has ex- 
 hausted language, by all the variety of 
 synonymes which express love, mercy, 
 pardon, and acceptance. They are gra- 
 ciously crowded together, that the trem- 
 bling mourner who was not sufficiently 
 assured by one, might be encouraged by 
 another. And it is the consummation of 
 the Divine goodness, that this message is 
 not sent by his ambassador, but that the 
 King of kings, the blessed and only Po- 
 tentate, condescends Himself to pro- 
 nounce this royal proclamation, " The 
 Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gra- 
 cious, long-suffering and abundant in 
 goodness and truth, keeping mercy for 
 thousands, forgiving iniquity, transgres- 
 sion, and sin !" Forgiving indeed, but
 
 CONSOLATIONS OF PRAYER* 433 
 
 in consonance with his just demand of 
 repentance and reformation, u who will 
 by no means clear the guilty." 
 
 The ardent and affectionate Apostle 
 of the Gentiles, within a very few verses, 
 lias also represented the Almighty under 
 every character that is endearing and 
 consoling. He denominates him " the 
 God of patience and of comfort, ,, " the 
 God of hope and of peace : " titles which 
 are peculiarly addressed to all the exi- 
 gencies of man, and graciously expressive 
 of God's will and power to supply them. 
 There is an appropriation of the terms to 
 the state of the fallen children of mor- 
 tality, calculated to take away all fear, 
 and to fill the vacant room with love, and 
 peace, and gratitude unspeakable. 
 
 Refuse not then to take comfort from 
 the promises of God, when perhaps you 
 are easily satisfied with the assurance of 
 pardon from a frail and sinful creature 
 like yourself whom you had offended. 
 Why is God the only being who is not 
 believed ? who is not trusted ? O Thou 
 u
 
 434 CONSOLATIONS OF PRAYER. 
 
 that hearest prayer, why unto Thee will 
 not all flesh come ? 
 
 But though God's pardoning grace 
 knows no bounds, his sanctifying grace 
 is given by measure, is given as we use 
 what we have already received. God 
 seems to reserve in his own hands a pro- 
 vision for our humility, and thus keeps 
 prayer in full exercise. The one is pro- 
 gressive in its operation, the other is full 
 and free, bestowed, not for any righte- 
 ousness in the receiver, but for that full 
 and perfect oblation once made for sin. 
 But is it not a most fallacious trust to 
 expect that our sins will be blotted out 
 without that habitual repentance annex- 
 ed to the promise? It is vain to offer 
 the bribe of burnt offerings, the thousands 
 of rams, or the rivers of oil. God desires 
 not to be paid for our pardon, nor profit- 
 ed by our offerings. He never sells his 
 favours. The riches of the universe, 
 which are indeed already his, could not 
 procure the pardon of a single sinner, but 
 • he prescribes the duty, when he promises
 
 CONSOLATIONS OF PRAYER. 4>35 
 
 the pardon. " Repent, that your sins 
 may be blotted out." 
 
 It would therefore supply ample matter 
 for habitual prayer, had we only the sins 
 of our nature to lament ; but when to 
 these we add our practical offences, oh, 
 how great is the sum of them ! Yet though 
 they are more than we can express, they 
 are not greater than God can forgive; 
 not more than the blood which was shed 
 for them can wash out. 
 
 But he to whom the duty of prayer is 
 unknown, and by whom the privilege 
 of prayer is unfelt, or he by whom it is 
 neglected, or he who uses it for form and 
 not from feeling, may probably say, Will 
 this work, wearisome even if necessary, 
 never know an end ? Will there be no 
 period when God will dispense with its 
 regular exercise? Will there never be 
 such an attainment of the end proposed, 
 as that we may be allowed to discontinue 
 the means ? 
 
 To these interrogatories there is but 
 one answer, an answer which shall be 
 u «
 
 436' CONSOLATIONS OF PRAYER* 
 
 also made, by an appeal to the enquirer 
 himself. 
 
 If there is any day in which we are 
 quite certain that we shall meet with no 
 trial from Providence, no temptation 
 from the world, any day in which we 
 shall be sure to have no wrong tempers 
 excited in ourselves, no call to bear with 
 those of others, no misfortune to en- 
 counter, and no need of Divine assist- 
 ance to endure it, on that morning we 
 may safely omit prayer. 
 
 If there is any evening in which we 
 have received no protection from God, 
 and experienced no mercy at his hands j 
 if we have not lost a single opportunity 
 of doing or receiving good, if we are" 
 quite certain that we have not once 
 spoken unadvisedly with our lips, nor 
 entertained one vain or idle thought in 
 our heart, on that night we may safely 
 omit praise to God, and the confession 
 of our own sinfulness ; on that night we 
 may safely omit humiliation and thanks-
 
 CONSOLATIONS OF PRAYER. 437 
 
 giving. To repeat the converse would 
 be superfluous. 
 
 When we can conscientiously say, 
 that religion has given a tone to our con- 
 duct, a law to our actions, a rule to our 
 thoughts, a bridle to our tongue, a re- 
 straint to every wrong passion, a check 
 to every evil temper, then, some will say 
 we may safely be dismissed from the 
 drudgery of prayer, it will then have 
 answered all the end which you so tire- 
 somely recommend. So far from it, we 
 really figure to ourselves, that if we could 
 hope to hear of a being brought to such 
 perfection of discipline, it would unques- 
 tionably be found that this would be the 
 very being who would continue most 
 perseveringly in the practice of that de- 
 votion, which had so materially contri- 
 buted to bring his heart and mind into 
 so desirable a state ; who would most trem- 
 ble to discontinue prayer, who would 
 be most appalled at the thought of the 
 condition into which such discontinuance 
 would be likely to reduce him. What- 
 u S
 
 438 
 
 CONSOLATIONS OF PRAYER. 
 
 ever others do, he will continue for ever 
 to " sing praises unto Thee, O Thou 
 most Highest ; he will continue to tell of 
 Thy loving kindness early in the morn- 
 ing, and of Thy truth in the night sea- 
 son." 
 
 It is true that while he considered reli- 
 gion as something nominal and ceremo- 
 nial, rather than as a principle of spirit and 
 of life, he felt nothing encouraging, no- 
 thing refreshing, nothing delightful in 
 prayer. But since he began to feel it as the 
 means of procuring the most substantial 
 blessings to his heart; since he began to 
 experience something of the realization of 
 the promises to his soul, in the perform- 
 ance of this exercise, he finds there is no 
 employment so satisfactory, none that his 
 mind can so little do without j none that 
 so effectually raises him above the world, 
 none that so opens his eyes to its empty 
 shadows, none which can make him look 
 with so much indifference on its lying va- 
 nities ; none that can so powerfully defend 
 him against the assaults of temptation, and
 
 CONSOLATIONS OF PRAYER. 439^ 
 
 the allurements of pleasure, none that 
 can so sustain him under labour, so carry 
 him through difficulties j none that can 
 so quicken him in the practice of every 
 virtue, and animate him in the discharge 
 of every duty. 
 
 But if prayer be so exhilarating to the 
 soul, what shall be said of praise ? Praise 
 is the only employment, we had almost 
 said, it is the only duty, in which self 
 finds no part. In praise we go out of 
 ourselves, and think only of Him to 
 whom we offer it. It is the most purely 
 disinterested of all services. It is grati- 
 tude without solicitation, acknowledge- 
 ment without petition. Prayer is the 
 overflowing expression of our wants, 
 praise of our affections. Prayer is the 
 language of the destitute, praise of the 
 redeemed, sinner. If the angelic spirits 
 offer their praises exempt from our mix- 
 ture of infirmity or alloy, yet we have a 
 motive for gratitude, unknown even to 
 the angels. They are unfallen beings j 
 they cannot say as we can, " Worthy the 
 u 4
 
 440 CONSOLATIONS OF PRAYER. 
 
 Lamb, for he was slain for us." Prayer 
 is the child of faith, praise of love. 
 Prayer is prospective : Praise takes in, 
 in its wide range, enjoyment of present, 
 remembrance of past, and anticipation 
 of future blessings. Prayer points the 
 only way to heaven, " praise is already 
 there." 
 

 
 441 
 
 QN INTERCESSORY PRAYER. 
 
 I he social affections were given us, not 
 only for the kindliest, but the noblest 
 purposes. The charities of father, .son, 
 and brother, were bestowed, not only to 
 make life pleasant, but to make it useful ; 
 not only that we might contribute to the 
 present comfort, but to the eternal bene- 
 fit of each other. 
 
 These heaven-implanted affections are 
 never brought into exercise more pro- 
 perly, nor with more lively feelings, than 
 in intercessory prayer. Our friends may 
 have wants which we cannot remove, 
 desires which we cannot gratify, afflic- 
 tions which we cannot relieve, but it is 
 always in our power to bring them before 
 God \ to pray for them whenever we 
 u 5
 
 442 INTERCESSORY PRAYER. 
 
 pray for ourselves. This, as it is a most 
 pleasant and easy, so it is an indispensible 
 obligation. It is a duty which brings 
 the social affections into their highest 
 exercise, and which may be reciprocally 
 paid and received. 
 
 The same Scriptures which expressly 
 enjoin that supplication, prayers, inter- 
 cession, and giving of thanks be made 
 for all men, furnish also numerous exam- 
 ples of the efficacy of intercessory prayer. 
 We need not dwell on the instance of the 
 rain obtained by the prayers of Elijah, or 
 the earlier availing intercessions of Moses, 
 with other public deliverances effected in 
 the same manner. 
 
 Though the perseverance of Abraham's 
 prayer did not prevent the extermination 
 of the polluted city, yet doubtless the 
 blessing he solicited for it returned into 
 his own bosom, and the successive pro- 
 mises made by the Almighty Judge to 
 the successively reduced number of the 
 righteous, for whose sake the petition for 
 preservation was offered, afford a proof
 
 INTERCESSORY PRAYER. 143 
 
 of the Divine approbation, and a striking 
 encouragement to persist in the duty of 
 intercessory prayer. The promise of 
 God was not withdrawn. The prayer 
 was conditional, and could the petitioner 
 have made up his very lowest comple- 
 ment, the city had been saved. The 
 interceding heart in any event is sure to 
 gain something for itself. 
 
 Prayer is such an enlarger of the affec- 
 tions, such an opener of the heart, that 
 we cannot but wonder how any who live 
 in the practice of it, should be penurious 
 in their alms ; or if they do give, should 
 do it " grudgingly or of necessity." 
 Surely if our prayer be cordial, we shall 
 be more ready to assist as well as to love 
 those for whom we are in the habit of 
 making supplication to God. It is im- 
 possible to pray sincerely for the well- 
 being of others, without being desirous 
 of contributing to it. We can hardly 
 conceive a more complete species of self- 
 deception than that practised by an ava- 
 ricious professor of religion, one who 
 u 6
 
 444< INTERCESSORY PRAYER. 
 
 goes on mechanically to pray for the 
 poor, whilst his prayer has neither opened 
 his heart nor his purse. He may value 
 himself on this, as on other instances 
 of his ingenuity, in having found out so 
 cheap a way of doing good, and go on 
 contentedly, till he hears those tremen- 
 dous words of exclusion, " Inasmuch as 
 ye did it not to one of the least of these, 
 ye .did it not to me." 
 
 There is a generosity in religion. The 
 same principle which disposes a Chris- 
 tian to contribute to the temporal inte- 
 rests of those he loves, inclines him to 
 breathe his earnest supplication for their 
 spiritual benefit. Not only does prayer 
 for others promote natural affection, not 
 only does it soften the heart of him who 
 intercedes, but it is hoped that they for 
 whom the intercession is made, may reap, 
 the benefit. 
 
 But our intercessions must dwell" neK 
 ther in generalities for the public, nor in 
 limitations to the wants of our particular 
 friends* The Christian is the friencl o£ 
 
 H
 
 INTERCESSORY PRAYER. 445 
 
 every description of the children of 
 mortality. In the fulness of our com- 
 passion for the miseries of mankind, we 
 pour out our hearts in prayer for the 
 poor and destitute, and we do well. But 
 there is another and a large class who are 
 still more the objects of our pity, and 
 consequently should be of our prayers. 
 While we pray for those who have no 
 portion in this world, do we not some- 
 times forget to pray for those who have 
 their whole portion in it ? We pray for 
 the praying servants of God, but perhaps, 
 we neglect to pray for those who never 
 pray for themselves. These are the per- 
 sons who stand most in need of the mercy 
 of the Almighty, and of our Christian 
 importunity in their favour. 
 
 Is it not affecting, that even into our 
 devotions we are disposed to carry the 
 regard we too highly indulge of the good 
 things of this life, by earnestly imploring 
 mercy upon those who want them j and 
 by forgetting to offer our supplications in 
 favour of those who are blinded by the
 
 446 INTERCESSORY PRAYER. 
 
 too full enjoyment of them. If the one 
 duty be done, should the other be left 
 undone ? 
 
 Happily we live in an age presenting 
 many instances, where neither high sta- 
 tion, nor great riches impede piety, or 
 obstruct devotion. Yet it is to be feared, 
 that the general tendency of rank, and 
 especially of riches, is to withdraw the 
 heart from spiritual exercises, more than 
 the hand from pecuniary bounty. 
 
 Let us then fervently include among 
 the objects of our supplication that very 
 pitiable and very necessitous class among 
 the rich and great, if such a class there 
 be, who live without any sensible feeling 
 of the presence of God as acknowledged 
 in prayer : — for those persons who never 
 entertain a doubt of their own deserts, 
 even if they do not deny Him who is 
 the giver of the boundless blessings 
 which lead them to forget Him. Strange ! 
 that the very overflowing cup which 
 ought to ensure gratitude should induce 
 forgetfulness ! Strange! that prayer to 
 ii
 
 INTERCESSORY PRAYER. 447 
 
 God should be neglected in proportion 
 to the magnitude of His bounties ! 
 
 May the writer be permitted to enrich 
 the penury of her own meagre compo- 
 sition with a beautiful extract from one 
 whose unequalled rhetoric was always 
 warmed by a deep sensibility, and occa- 
 sionally tinctured with religious feeling 
 — the eloquent and almost prophetic 
 author of Reflections on the Revolution 
 in France : — 
 
 " The English people are satisfied, 
 that to the great, the consolations of re- 
 ligion are as necessary as its instructions* 
 They too are among the unhappy. They 
 feel personal pain and domestic sorrow. 
 In these they have no privilege, but are 
 subject to pay their full contingent to 
 the contributions levied on mortality. 
 They want this sovereign balm under 
 their gnawing cares and anxieties, which 
 being less conversant about the limited 
 wants of animal life, range without limit, 
 and are diversified by infinite combin- 
 ations in the wild and unbounded regions
 
 4iS INTERCESSORY PRAYER. 
 
 of imagination. Some charitable dole 
 is wanting to these our often very un- 
 happy brethren, to fill the gloomy void 
 that reigns in minds which have nothing 
 on earth to hope or fear - y something to 
 relieve in the killing languor and over- 
 laboured lassitude of those who have 
 nothing to do ; something to excite an 
 appetite to existence in the palled satiety 
 which attends on all pleasures which may 
 be bought, where nature is not left to her 
 own process, where even desire is antici- 
 pated, and therefore, fruition defeated 
 by meditated schemes and contrivances 
 of delight j and no interval, no obstacle, 
 is interposed between the wish and the 
 accomplishment. " 
 
 O you great ones of the earth, whom 
 riches ensnare and prosperity betrays — 
 be largely liberal, even from self-interest.- 
 Not, indeed, expecting to make the 
 liberality you bestow a remuneration for 
 the devotions you withhold. Scatter 
 your superfluities, and more than your 
 superfluities, to the destitute, if not to,
 
 INTERCESSORY PRAYER. 449 
 
 vindicate Providence, yet to benefit your- 
 selves. Not, indeed, to revive the old 
 pious fraud of depending for salvation on 
 the prayers of others ; yet still you may 
 hope to be repaid, with usurious interest, 
 from the pious poor, by the very tender 
 charity of their prayers for you. Their 
 supplications may possibly be so heard, 
 that you may, at length, be brought to 
 the indispensible necessity, and the 
 bounden duty of praying for yourselves. 
 As to the commanded duty of praying 
 for our enemies, the most powerful ex- 
 ample bequeathed to us in Scripture, 
 next to that of his Divine master on the 
 cross, is that of St. Stephen. Even after 
 the expiring martyr had ejaculated "Lord 
 Jesus, receive my spirit," he kneeled down 
 and cried with a loud voice, " Lord, lay 
 not this sin to their charge." Let every 
 instance of Roman greatness of mind, 
 let every story of Grecian magnanimity 
 be ransacked, and produce, who can, 
 such another example. Theirs is tu- 
 mour, this is grandeur ; theirs is heroism,
 
 450 INTERCESSORY PRAYER. 
 
 this is Christianity ; they died for their 
 country, Jesus for his enemies ; they im- 
 plored the gods for themselves, Stephen 
 for his murderers. 
 
 Oh ! thou Divine Repairer of our sinful 
 nature, Thou alone canst render a duty, 
 so repugnant to the unrenewed heart, 
 easy, pleasant, delightful ! 
 
 ■ 
 ■
 
 451 
 
 i 
 THE PRAYING CHRISTIAN IN THE 
 
 WORLD. — THE PROMISE OF REST TO 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN. 
 
 As the keeping up a due sense of reli- 
 gion, both in faith and practice, so ma- 
 terially depends on the habit of fervent 
 and heart-felt devotion, may we be per- 
 mitted, in this place, to insist on the 
 probable effects which would follow the 
 devout and conscientious exercise of 
 prayer, rather than on prayer itself? 
 
 As soon as religion is really become 
 the earnest desire of our hearts, it will 
 inevitably become the great business of 
 our lives j the one is the only satisfactory 
 evidence of the other : consequently the 
 religion of the heart and life will pro- 
 mote that prayer by which both have 
 been promoted.
 
 4.52 THE PRAYING CHRISTIAN" 
 
 They, therefore, little advance the true 
 interests of mankind, who, under the 
 powerful plea of what great things God 
 has done for us in our redemption by 
 His Son, neglect to encourage our active 
 services in His cause. Hear the words 
 of inspiration, " Be not slothful" — " run 
 the race" — " fight the good fight" — 
 " strive to enter in" — " give diligence" 
 — "work out your own salvation" — 
 " God is not unmindful to forget your 
 labour of love" — " but when ye have 
 done all, say, Ye are unprofitable servants, 
 ye have done that which was your duty 
 to do." 
 
 But if, after we have done all, we are 
 unprofitable servants, what shall we be if 
 we have done nothing ? Is it not obvious 
 that the Holy Spirit, who dictated these 
 exhortations, clearly meant that a sound 
 faith in the word of God was meant to 
 produce holy exertion in His cause ? The 
 activity in doing good of the Son of God 
 was not exceeded by His devotion, and 
 both gloriously illustrated his doctrines,
 
 *N THE WORLD. 453 
 
 and confirmed his divinity. Until then 
 we make our religion a part of our 
 common life, until we bring Christianity, 
 ■as an illustrious genius is said to have 
 brought philosophy, from its retreat to 
 live in the world, and dwell among men ; 
 until we have brought it from the closet 
 to the active scene, from the church to 
 the world, whether that world be the 
 court, the senate, the exchange, the 
 public office, the private counting-house, 
 the courts of justice, the professional 
 departments, or the domestic drawing- 
 room, it will not have fully accomplished 
 what it was sent on earth to do; 
 
 We do not mean the introduction of 
 its language, but of its spirit : the former 
 is frequently as incompatible with public, 
 as it is unsuitable to private business ; 
 but the latter is of universal application* 
 We mean that the temper and disposi- 
 tions which it is the object of prayer to 
 communicate, should be kept alive in 
 society, and brought into action in its
 
 454 THE PRAYING CHRISTIAN 
 
 affairs. That the integrity, the veracity, 
 the justice, the purity, the liberality, the 
 watchfulness over ourselves, the candour 
 towards others, all exercised in the fear 
 of the Lord, and strengthened by the 
 word of God and prayer, should be 
 brought from the retirement of devotion 
 to the regulation of the conduct. 
 
 Though we have observed above, that 
 it is rather the spirit than the language 
 of religion that should be carried into 
 business, yet we cannot forbear regret- 
 ting that we seem to decline much from 
 the sober usages of our ancestors. For- 
 merly testamentary instruments were 
 never made the mere conveyance of 
 worldly possessions. They were also 
 made the vehicle of pious sentiments, 
 and always at least opened with a devout 
 offering of the soul to Him who gave it. 
 Indeed it is difficult to imagine how a 
 man can write the words my last will with- 
 out a solemn reflection on that last act 
 which must inevitably follow it, and in
 
 IN THE WORLD. 455 
 
 view of which act he is making it. May 
 not this alteration in the practice be 
 partly ascribed to the decline of habitual 
 prayer ? * 
 
 * I beg leave to strengthen my own sentiments 
 on this head, by quoting a passage from an eminent 
 and truly pious barrister, with an extract from the 
 last will of one of the greatest men of our age. 
 
 " Of late years, it has been the fashion (for 
 there is a fashion even in the last act of a man's 
 life) to omit these solemn preambles. I confess 
 myself an approver of them, as believing it to be 
 useful to the surviving relatives of the testator to 
 draw their attention to the tremendous conse- 
 quences of the separation of soul and body at a 
 season of impressibility and reflection." By the 
 following extract, from the will of the late Mr. 
 Burke, it will be seen, that his sentiments, on this 
 point, coincided with those above expressed. 
 "First, according to the ancient good and laudable 
 custom, of which my heart and understanding re- 
 cognise the propriety, I bequeath my soul to God, 
 hoping for His mercy through the only merits of 
 our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. My body I 
 desire, if I should die at any place very convenient 
 for its transport thither, (but not otherwise,^ to be 
 bu;ied at the church at Beaconsfield, near to the 
 bodies of my dearest brother, and my dearest son, 
 in all humility praying, that, as we have lived in 
 perfect unity together, we may together have part 
 in the resurrection of the just." Roberts on 
 vol. ii. p. 376.
 
 U(j THE PllAYING CHRISTIAN 
 
 But what fair opportunities have cer- 
 tain of the great officers of the law, 
 especially in their charges, of giving to 
 them a solemnity the most impressive^ 
 by adverting more frequently to the 
 awful truths of Christianity ! Even if 
 such awakening appeals to the con- 
 science should fail of their effect on the 
 unhappy convicts to whom they are ad- 
 dressed, they may be of incalculable 
 ...» j j 
 
 benefit to some of the numerous persons 
 present. A counsel, a caution, a reproof, 
 an exhortation, all on pure Christian 
 principles, and thus coming from a pro- 
 fession to which it appears not imme* 
 diately to belong, may, especially from 
 not being expected, produce conse- 
 quences the most salutary. The terribly 
 affecting circumstances of the moment, 
 the appalling scene so soon to follow, 
 must give an unspeakable weight to the 
 most touching admonition. He who is 
 judging the condemned violator of divine 
 and human laws, stands as a kind of 
 representative of the future judge of
 
 IN THE WORLD. 4,57 
 
 quick and dead, and will himself soon 
 be judged by Him, a consideration which 
 makes his responsibility peculiarly tre- 
 mendous. * 
 
 But to return. — Though we must not, 
 in accommodation to the prevailing pre- 
 judices and unnecessary zeal against 
 abstinence and devotion, neglect the 
 imperative duties of retirement, prayer, 
 and meditation ; yet, perhaps, as prayer 
 makes so indispensible an article in the 
 Christian life, some retired, contemplative 
 persons may apprehend that it makes the 
 whole ; whereas prayer is only the oper- 
 ation which sets the machine going. It 
 is the sharpest spur to virtuous action, 
 but not the act itself. The only infal- 
 lible incentive to a useful, life, but not 
 a substitute for that usefulness. Reli- 
 gion keeps her children in full employ- 
 
 * The late Lord Kenyon was neither afraid nor 
 ashamed to introduce both the doctrine and language 
 of Christianity on these occasions ; and we have 
 lately seen other valuable instances of the adoption 
 of this practice, which we trust is reviving. 
 
 X
 
 458 THE PRAYING CHRISTIAN 
 
 ment. It finds them work for every day 
 in the week, as well as on Sundays. 
 
 The praying Christian, on going into 
 the world, feels that his social and reli- 
 gious duties are, happily comprised in 
 one brief sentence — * I will think upon 
 thy commandments to do them." What 
 the Holy Spirit has so indissolubly joined, 
 he does not separate. * 
 
 He whose heart has been set in motion 
 in the morning by prayer, who has had 
 his spiritual pulse quickened by a serious 
 perusal of the Holy Scriptures, will find 
 his work growing upon him in regular 
 proportion to his willingness to do it. 
 He is diligently exact in the immediate 
 duties of the passing day. Though pro- 
 crastination is treated by many as a 
 light evil, he studiously avoids it, because 
 he has felt its mischiefs ; he is active 
 even from the love of ease, for he knows 
 that the duties which would have cost 
 him little, if done on the day they were 
 due, may, by the accumulation of many 
 neglected days, cost him much. The
 
 IN THE WORLD. 4<59 
 
 fear of this rouses him to immediate 
 exertion. If the case in question be 
 doubtful, he deliberates, he inquires, he 
 prays ; if it be clear and pressing, what 
 his hand finds to do, he does with all his 
 might; and in the calls of distress he 
 always acts on his favourite aphorism, 
 that giving soon is giving twice. 
 
 Abroad how many duties meet him ! 
 He has on his hands the poor who want 
 bread, the afflicted who want comfort, 
 the distressed who want counsel, the 
 ignorant who want teaching, the de- 
 pressed who want soothing. At home 
 he has his family to watch over. He 
 has to give instruction to his children, 
 and an example to his servants. But 
 his more immediate, as well as more dif- 
 ficult work is with himself, and he knows 
 that this exercise, well-performed, can 
 alone enable him wisely to perform the 
 rest. Here he finds work for every fa- 
 culty of his understanding, every conquest 
 over his will, for every affection of his 
 heart. Here his spirit truly labours. He 
 x 2
 
 460 THE PRAYING CHRISTIAN 
 
 has to watch, as well as to pray, that his 
 conscience be not darkened by prejudice ; 
 that his bad qualities do not assume the 
 shape of virtues, nor his good ones en- 
 gender self-applause ; that his best inten- 
 tions do not mislead his judgment ; that 
 his candour do not degenerate into in- 
 difference ; nor his strictness into bigotry ; 
 that his moderation do not freeze, nor 
 his zeal burn. He has to control his 
 impatience at the defeat of his most 
 wisely conceived plans. He will find, that 
 in his best services there is something that 
 is wrong, much that is wanting ; and he 
 feels, that whatever in them is right, is 
 not his own, but the gift of God. 
 sv-fHe finds that his obedience is incom- 
 plete, that his warmest affections are 
 languid, perhaps his best intentions not 
 realised, his best resolves not followed 
 up. In this view, though he is abased 
 in dust and ashes in looking up to God 
 as the fountain of perfection, he is 
 cheered in looking up to him also as the 
 fountain of mercy in Christ Jesus. He
 
 IN THE WORLD. 4f>l 
 
 prays, as well as strives, that the know- 
 ledge of his own faults may make him 
 more humble, and his sense of the Divine 
 mercies more grateful. 
 
 He will find that his faith, even 
 though it does not want sincerity, will 
 too frequently want energy. He has, 
 therefore, to watch against cold and 
 heartless prayer j though, perhaps, the 
 humility arising from this consciousness is 
 a benefit in another way. He feels it dif- 
 ficult to bring every " thought into cap- 
 tivity to the obedience of Christ," yet he 
 goes on cheerily, willing to believe that 
 what may be difficult is not impossible. 
 He has to struggle against over-anxiety 
 for temporal things. He has to preserve 
 simplicity of intention, consistency, and 
 perseverance. He has, in short, to watch 
 against a long list of sins, errors, and 
 temptations, which he will find heavier 
 in weight, and more in number, the more 
 closely he looks into his catalogue. 
 
 The praying Christian in the world has, 
 above all, to watch against the fear of man, 
 x S
 
 462 THE PRAYING CHRISTIAN 
 
 as he may find it more easy to endure the 
 cross than to despise the shame. Even 
 if he have in a good degree conquered 
 this temptation, he may still find a more 
 dangerous enemy in the applause of the 
 world than he found in its enmity. He 
 has observed, that many amiable and 
 even pious persons, who are got above 
 the more vulgar allurements of the world, 
 who have surmounted all the temptations- 
 of a mere sensual kind, who are no 
 longer subdued by its softening luxuries, 
 its seducing pleasures, its dazzling splen- 
 dours, nor its captivating amusements, 
 have not yet quite escaped this danger* 
 The keen desire of its good opinion, the 
 anxiety for its applause, ensnares many 
 who are got above any thing else which 
 the world has to offer. This is, perhaps,, 
 the last lingering sin which cleaves 
 even to those who have made a con- 
 siderable progress in religion, the still 
 unextinguished passion of a mind great 
 enough to have subdued many other 
 passions.
 
 IN THE WORLD. 463 
 
 The danger of the Christian in the 
 world is from the world. He is afraid of 
 the sleek, smooth, insinuating, and not 
 discreditable vices; he guards against 
 self-complacency. If his affairs prosper, 
 and his reputation stands high, he be- 
 takes himself to his only sure refuge, 
 the throne of God, to his only sure 
 remedy, humble prayer. He knows it 
 is more easy to perform a hundred right 
 deeds, and to keep many virtues in exer- 
 cise, than " to keep himself unspotted 
 from the world," than to hold the things 
 of the world with a loose hand. — Even 
 his best actions, which may bring him 
 most credit, have their dangers j they 
 make him fear that " while he has a name 
 to live, he is dead." 
 
 Though much above feeling any joy 
 in vulgar acclamation, he is not insensible 
 to the praise of those who are praised by 
 others j but though not indifferent to the 
 good opinion of good men, the praise 
 even of the best is not his object: he 
 knows that to obtain it, is not the end 
 x 4
 
 464 THE PRAYING CHRISTIAN 
 
 for which he was sent into the world. 
 His ambition is of a higher order, it 
 -lglKzaf: loftier, aim. The praise of man 
 cannot satisfy a spirit which feels itself 
 made for immortality. . 
 
 He feels that if he had no sin but 
 vanity, the consciousness of that alone, 
 would be sufficient to set him on his 
 gui&rd, to quicken him in prayer,, to 
 caution him in conduct. He does not 
 fear vanity as he fears any other indi- 
 vidual vice j as a single enemy, against 
 wjiich he is to be on the watch, but 
 as that vice which, if indulged, would 
 poison all his virtues. — : Among the sins 
 of the inner man, he knows that "this 
 kind goeth not out but by prayer."-— 
 When he hears it said of any popular, 
 and especially of any religious, cha- 
 racter, " he is a good man, but he is 
 vain :" He says within himself, he is 
 vain, and, therefore, I fear he is not a 
 good man. How many right qualities 
 does vanity rob of their value, how many 
 right actions of their reward !
 
 IN THE WORLD. 465 
 
 Every suspicion of the first stirring of 
 vanity in himself, sends him with deeper 
 prostration before his Maker. Lord what 
 is man ! shall the praise of a fellow- 
 creature, whose breath is in his nostrils, 
 whose ashes must soon be mingled with 
 my own, which may even before my 
 own be consigned to kindred dust, shall 
 his praise be of sufficient potency to 
 endanger the humility of a being, wh 
 is not only looking forward to the ap- 
 plause of those glorious spirits which sur- 
 round the throne of God, but to the 
 approbation of God himself? 
 
 When those with whom he occasionally 
 mixes, see the praying Christian calm 
 and cheerful in the world, they little sus- 
 pect the frequent struggles, the secret 
 conflicts he has within. Others see his 
 devout and conscientious life, but he 
 alone knows the plague of his own heart. 
 For this plague he seeks the only remedy ; 
 to prayer, that balm of hurt minds he 
 constantly repairs. 
 
 The praying Christian endeavours to 
 x 5
 
 
 466 THE PilAYING CHRISTIAN 
 
 make even what to some might seem 
 casual expressions in Scripture, matter 
 of improvement. He is not contented 
 to devote to the distressed his mere 
 superfluities, he makes requisitions on 
 his frugality to add to his contributions, 
 and he learns this lesson from the highest 
 model. 
 
 He observes that He who could £eed 
 thousands by a word of His mouth, yet 
 took care not to let the miracle pass with- 
 out grafting on it a moral maxim for ge- 
 neral use, a religious duty for general 
 practice. He who could have multiplied 
 to any extent the twelve baskets, as He 
 had done the five loaves, condescended to 
 say, " gather up the fragments that re- 
 main, that nothing be lost ;" and that he 
 might set an example of prayer in every 
 possible form, He had previously blessed 
 the simple but abundant meal, presenting, 
 in this single instance, an union of three 
 great qualities — generosity, economy, and 
 devotion. 
 
 The practical Christian observes, with 
 13
 
 IN THE WORLD. 467 
 
 grateful admiration, how Scripture has, 
 as it were, let down to the plainest appre- 
 hension the habitual duty of constantly 
 looking to God, by a familiar allusion 
 taken from domestic life. — The fidelity, 
 the diligent attention, the watchful ob- 
 servance of " the eyes of a servant look- 
 ing to the hand of his master, and the 
 eyes of a maiden to the hand of her 
 mistress," is a simple illustration of the 
 Christian's duty, equally intelligible to 
 him who serves, and obligatory on him 
 who is served* 
 
 To a worldly man, his own sin ap- 
 pears less than it is j to a good man, 
 greater ; not that he sees through a false 
 medium, or aggravates the truth, or for- 
 gets the Apostle's direction to think 
 soberly j but while the nominal Christian 
 weighs his offences in the scales of the 
 world, the praying Christian brings his 
 to the balance of the sanctuary. The 
 former judges of sin only as he sees it in 
 others $ and the worst men in the rank 
 above the vulgar, do not alwavs appear 
 X 6
 
 468 THE PRAYING CHRISTIAN 
 
 so bad as they are. In his own heart, he 
 sees little, because, with that heart he is 
 not acquainted. Whereas his own bosom 
 is the very place where the good man 
 looks for sin, and his perceptions of what 
 is wrong are so delicate, that he sees it in 
 its first seed j in short, the one thinks 
 himself worse than others, because he 
 knows himself well j the other thinks 
 himself better, because he knows himself 
 not at all. 
 
 When we consider the conflicts and the 
 trials of the conscientious, watchful, pray- 
 ing, Christian, we shall estimate aright 
 the value of the consoling promise of 
 that eternal rest from his labours, which 
 supports him under them. And though 
 rest is one of the lowest descriptions of 
 the promised bliss of heaven, yet it holds 
 out a cheering prospect of relief and 
 satisfaction to a feeling being, who is 
 conscious of the fallen condition of his 
 mortal nature in all its weakness and im- 
 perfection. Rest, therefore, is of itself 
 a promise sufficiently inviting to make 
 
 12
 
 IN THE WORLD. 
 
 him desire to depart and to be with 
 Christ, even independently of his higher 
 hope. The joy unspeakable, the crown 
 of glory, and all those other splendid 
 images of the blessedness; of heaven, exalt 
 and delight his mind. But it is, though 
 with a higher, yet with a more inde- 
 finite delight. He adores, without 
 fully comprehending the mighty blessing. 
 But the promise of rest is more intelli- 
 gible to the heavy-laden Christian ; he 
 better understands it, because it is so 
 exactly applicable to his present wants 
 and feelings : — this is not our rest. It 
 offers the relief longed for by a weary, 
 frail, and feverish being. He who best 
 knew what man wanted, promised to 
 His disciples peace and rest, and His 
 Divine Spirit has represented the state 
 of heaven under this image more fre- 
 quently than under any other, as being 
 in more direct contrast to his present 
 state — a state of care, anxiety, and 
 trouble, and a state of sin, the cause of 
 all his other troubles. Perhaps this less
 
 470 THE TRAYING CHRISTIAN, &C. 
 
 elevated view of heaven may occur more 
 rarely to persons of high- wrought feel- 
 ings in religion, yet to the Christian of 
 a contrary character, it is a never-failing 
 consolation, a home-felt solace, the object 
 of his fervent prayer. What a support to 
 be persuaded that " the work of righteous- 
 ness is peace, and the effect of righteous- 
 ness is quietness and assurance for ever !" 
 
 ■ . ,
 
 471 
 
 THE LORD'S PRAYER, A MODEL BOTH 
 FOR OUR DEVOTION AND OUR PRAC- 
 TICE.— IT TEACHES THE DUTY OF 
 PROMOTING SCHEMES TO ADVANCE 
 THE GLORY OF GOD. 
 
 It is not customary for kings to draw 
 up petitions for their subjects to present 
 to themselves j much less do earthly 
 monarchs consider the act of petitioning 
 worthy of reward, nor do they number 
 the petitions so much among the services 
 done them, as among the burthens im- 
 posed on them. Whereas it is a singular 
 benefit to our fallen race that the King 
 of kings both dictates our petitions, and 
 has promised to recompense us for making 
 them. 
 
 In the Lord's prayer may be found the
 
 172 THE LORD'S PRAYER 
 
 seminal principle of all the petitions of a 
 Christian, both for spiritual and temporal 
 things; and however in the fullness of 
 his heart he will necessarily depart from 
 his model in his choice of expressions ; 
 into whatever laminae he may expand the 
 pure gold of which it is composed, yet 
 he will still find the general principle of 
 his own more enlarged application to 
 God, substantially contained in this brief 
 but finished compendium. 
 
 Is it not a striking proof of the divine 
 condescension, that, knowing our pro- 
 pensity to err, our blessed Lord should 
 Himself have dictated our petitions, 
 partly perhaps as a corrective of existing 
 superstitions, but certainly to leave be- 
 hind him a regulator by which all future 
 ages should set their devotions ; and we- 
 might perhaps establish it as a safe rule 
 for prayer in general, that any petition 
 which cannot in some shape, be accom- 
 modated to the spirit of some part of the 
 Lord's prayer may not be right to be
 
 OUR MODEL. 473 
 
 adopted. Here temporal things are kept 
 in their due subordination ; they are 
 asked for in great moderation, as an ac- 
 knowledgement of our dependence on 
 the Giver. The request for the Divine 
 intercession we must of course offer for 
 ourselves, as the Intercessor had not yet 
 assumed his mediatorial office. 
 
 There is in this prayer a concatenation 
 of the several clauses, what in human 
 composition the critics call concealed 
 method. The petitions rise out of each 
 other. Every part also is, as it were, 
 fenced round, the whole meeting in a 
 circle ; for the desire that God's name 
 may be hallowed, His will be done, and 
 His kingdom come, is referred to, and 
 confirmed by the ascription at the close. 
 If the kingdom, the power, and the 
 glory, are His, then His ability to do and 
 to give, are declared to be infinite. 
 
 But, as we have already observed, if we 
 do not make our prayer the ground of our 
 practice, if we do not pray as we believe, 
 and act as we pray, we must not wonder
 
 474 the lord's prayer 
 
 if our petitions are not heard, and con- 
 sequently not answered. 
 
 In the tremendous scene in the Apo- 
 calyptic vision, where the dead, small and 
 great, stand before God, and the books 
 were opened ; and another book was 
 opened ; the dead were judged out of 
 those things, which were written in the 
 books ; were judged according — not to 
 their prayers, but " their works." Surely, 
 then, Christianity is a practical religion, 
 and in order to use aright the prayer our 
 Lord has given us, we must model our 
 life by it as well as our petitions. 
 
 If we pray that the name of God may 
 be hallowed, yet neglect to hallow it our- 
 selves, by family as well as personal devo- 
 tion, and a conscientious attendance on 
 3.11 the ordinances of public worship, we 
 defeat the end of our praying, by falling 
 short of its obligation. 
 
 The practical discrepancies between 
 our prayers and our practice do not end 
 here. How frequently are we solemnly 
 imploring of God, that " His kingdom
 
 OUR MODEL. 175 
 
 may come," while we are doing nothing 
 to promote his kingdom of grace here, 
 and consequently His kingdom of glory 
 hereafter. 
 
 If we pray that God would " give His 
 Son the heathen for His inheritance," 
 and yet make it a matter of indifference, 
 whether a vast proportion of the globe 
 should live heathens or die Christians ; 
 if we pray that " the knowledge of the 
 Lord may cover the earth, as the waters 
 cover the sea, yet act as if we were in- 
 different whether Christianity ended as 
 well as began at home. If we pray that 
 " the sound may go out into all lands, 
 and their words unto the ends of the 
 world," and yet are satisfied to keep the 
 sound within our own hearing, and the 
 words within our own island, is not this 
 a prayer which goeth out of feigned lips? 
 When we pray that " His will may be 
 done," we know that His will is, that 
 " all should be saved, that not one should 
 perish." When, therefore, we assist in
 
 476 THE LORD'S PRAYER 
 
 sending the Gospel to the dark and dis- 
 tant corners of the earth, then, and not 
 till then, may we consistently desire of 
 God in our prayers, that " His saving 
 health may be known to all nations." 
 
 For we must vindicate the veracity of 
 our prayer by our exertions, and extend 
 its efficiency by our influence : if we con- 
 tribute not to the accomplishment of the 
 object for which we pray, what is this but 
 mocking Omniscience, not by unmean- 
 ing, but unmeant petitions ? If we do 
 nothing, we are inconsistent ; but if we 
 do worse than nothing, if we oppose, and 
 by our opposition hinder the good which 
 we do not think proper to support, may 
 we not possibly bring on ourselves the 
 appalling charge of being " found fight- 
 ing against God!" 
 
 It is indeed an easier and a cheaper 
 way, to quiet the conscience by that 
 common anodyne, " that the heathen are 
 very well as they are, that the morals of 
 the Hindoos are not inferior to those of 
 Christians." With what sort of Chris-
 
 OUR MODEL. 477 
 
 fllfl 
 
 tians these asserters of the rival inno- 
 cence of idolaters associate, we will not 
 
 >0|? • > J Jftt'l 
 
 pretend to determine. 
 
 But, allowing that we do not always 
 send abroad the very best samples of 
 Christianity, the very best representatives 
 of its practical effects, allowing also that 
 too many who remain at home, and who 
 profess and call themselves Christians, 
 are guilty of crimes which disgrace human 
 nature, yet Christianity renounces them ; 
 Christian governments inflict on them 
 capital punishments. While among these 
 poor idolaters all the social duties are 
 trampled on, all the suggestions of natu- 
 ral conscience are stifled, rites the most 
 obscene, sacrifices the most bloody are 
 offered ; and these crimes are not only 
 committed, but sanctioned, but enjoined j 
 they do not violate religion, they make a 
 part of it. Surely, then, politically con- 
 nected with them as we are, and yet con- 
 tentedly to leave them in their degraded 
 state of morals, without any attempt tor 
 their improvement, do we not by this
 
 478 the lord's prayer 
 
 neglect virtually pronounce, and awfully 
 anticipate their dreadful sentence, " let 
 him that is unjust be unjust still, and he 
 that is filthy let him be filthy still." 
 
 Again, it is an easier and a cheaper 
 way to throw the weight off our own 
 shoulders by the cool remark, that " these 
 things belong not to us, human efforts 
 are superfluous •, God must bring them 
 about by a miracle." — God, it is true, 
 introduced Christianity by miracles, but 
 He established it by means. Miracles, 
 indeed, are His prerogative, but man is 
 his instrument. Had He not sent His 
 gospel and His ministers, it is probable 
 that the strangers scattered throughout 
 Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Bythinia, 
 and all proconsular Asia, had never heard 
 of Christianity to this day, which is, in- 
 deed, still the case of too many parts of 
 that region. 
 
 But is it not equally the effect of di- 
 vine grace, I had almost said, is it not 
 equally a miracle, when, in the hottest 
 season of the most unrelenting warfare.
 
 OUR MODEL. 479 
 
 in the most calamitous period of unusual 
 scarcity, when Britain had the whole 
 civilised world in arms against her, so 
 that she could emphatically say, " There 
 is none that fighteth for us but only Thou, 
 O God." — When it might seem business 
 enough for any but Christians to take 
 care of themselves, even then Britain 
 raised the banner of the cross, not in 
 the most unprofitable crusade for the 
 most fruitless object, but that she might 
 carry the knowledge of Him who suf- 
 fered on it, to the ends of the habitable 
 globe. — Not to redeem His sepulchre 
 from infidels, but to communicate to 
 them the tidings of His resurrection, and 
 of redemption through his blood ? Is it 
 not the effect of grace, and still more 
 nearly approaching to a miracle, when in 
 a period immediately subsequent, while 
 their fields were yet red with slaughter, 
 and their rivers ran blood, their cities 
 plundered, and their kingdoms desolated, 
 God disposed the hearts of hostile sove- 
 reigns, ruling over opposing nations and
 
 480 the lord's prayer 
 
 the tenacious professors of different reli- 
 gions, yet, as if actuated by one universal 
 feeling, simultaneously to rise up in one 
 common cause for ithe accomplishment of 
 this mighty object — when the first use 
 they made of the termination of war was 
 to disseminate the Gospel of peace ; the 
 first tribute they paid to the glory of God 
 was to publish abroad that grand instru- 
 ment of good will to men ! Let us not 
 then indulge groundless imaginations, as 
 if miracles were wrought to justify indo- 
 lence; as if man were to be excused the 
 trouble of being the active agent of 
 Divine Providence. 
 
 The miracles wrought at Ephesus seem 
 rather to have been intended as a con- 
 firmation of the truth of St. Paul's doc- 
 trine, than as the actual instrument of 
 conversion. Many rejected the Gospel 
 who saw the miracles. The miracles 
 wrought did not supersede the necessity 
 of the Apostle's " speaking boldly for the 
 space of three months, disputing and 
 persuading the things concerning the
 
 OVK MOI.K,.. 481 
 
 kingdom of God. They did not super- 
 sede the necessity at another time, of his 
 continuing to preach among them for the 
 space of two years the two great doc- 
 trines of his mission, " Repentance to- 
 wards God, and faith in our Lord Jesus 
 Christ." Nor did they prevent his 
 thinking it his bounden duty to send to 
 the Ephesians his exquisite epistle, for 
 the furtherance of their faith in the gos- 
 pel. Here we behold the union of the 
 Bible and the missionary — of the gospel 
 sent and the gospel preached. 
 
 " Many," says the sagacious Bishop 
 Butler, " think there is but one evil, and 
 that evil is superstition ;" and we know 
 that the epithets of superstitious and en- 
 thusiastic have been unsparingly lavished 
 on the most sober and well-digested 
 plans for the dispersion of the Scriptures 
 abroad. We know that every trifling 
 error, errors inseparable from all great 
 undertakings, every petty indiscretion, 
 the inevitable consequence of employing 
 a number of inferior agents, have been
 
 482 the lord's prayer 
 
 carefully collected, minutely set down in 
 the note book of observation, and tri- 
 umphantly produced as unanswerable ob- 
 jections to the whole plan. " But," says 
 the profound prelate above named, in his 
 very able defence of missions, preached 
 before the venerable Society for Pro- 
 pagating the Gospel in Foreign * Parts, 
 " many well-disposed persons want much 
 to be admonished what a dangerous thing 
 it is to discountenance what is good, be- 
 cause it is not better, by raising objections 
 to some under parts of it." 
 
 The truth is, they are neither enthu- 
 siasts nor superstitious, who believe that 
 well-concerted and prudently-conducted 
 societies for the promotion of this great 
 object, acting with a deep sense of human 
 imperfection, and in dependence upon 
 the favour of God, will, in due time, 
 with His blessing, without which nothing 
 is strong, nothing is holy, accomplish the 
 great end of bringing all the kingdoms of 
 
 * Preached at their anniversary meeting, Febru- 
 ary 16th, 1738—9.
 
 OUR MODEL. 48o 
 
 the world to become the kingdoms of 
 the Redeemer. But he is the supersti- 
 tious, he is the enthusiast, who indulges 
 unfounded expectations, who looks for 
 the fulfilment of declarations which have 
 never been made, who depends upon 
 miracles which have never been an- 
 nounced, who looks for consequences 
 without their predisposing causes, who 
 believes that the unassisted heathen, sunk 
 in intellectual and spiritual darkness, 
 shall call on Him of whom they have not 
 heard, or that they shall hear without a 
 preacher, or that the preacher will be 
 found without being sent. 
 
 We might just as reasonably expect to 
 see the beautiful imagery of Oriental 
 metaphor, as displayed in the highly 
 figurative language of the prophets, ac- 
 tually realised. We might as reasonably 
 expect that the rose of Sharon shall 
 literally blossom in the wilderness of 
 Arabia, or the cedars of Lebanon spring 
 up in the sandy vallies of Africa j that 
 v o
 
 484 the lord's prayer 
 
 the thirsty desert should produce spon- 
 taneous springs of water ; that the tame 
 and savage animals should live together 
 in friendly compact ; that the material 
 hills shall really sink and the vallies rise 
 of themselves ; • — we might as rationally 
 hope to see these lively illustrations of 
 the fulfilment of the Divine promises 
 literally verified, as to expect Christianity 
 to make its own unassisted way into 
 the distant and desolate corners of the 
 earth. God has committed Christianity 
 into the hands of Christians for universal 
 diffusion . 
 
 Let it be observed, that it appears to 
 be no real departure from the subject 
 with which this chapter opened, that 
 reference is not more frequently made in 
 its progress to prayer. This seems to be 
 the less necessary, as we are not reason- 
 ing with the irreligious man, but with the 
 Christian, with him who professes to use 
 the Lord's prayer as the pattern of his 
 own devotions j and from the premises 
 of that prayer, these observations are not
 
 OUR ftODEL. 48.1 
 
 forced interpretations, but natural de- 
 ductions. 
 
 The Almighty is consistent in all his 
 operations. They always exhibit simpli- 
 city and economy. He never works a 
 superfluous miracle. There is also analogy 
 in his works. Christ wrought miracles 
 ±o relieve the bodily wants of the poor ; 
 he works miracles for them no longer, he 
 £urns them over to the rich. He wrought 
 .miracles on the first conversion of the 
 heathen ; He works miracles for them 
 no longer, he now turns them over to 
 Christians. He resigns to human agency, 
 •under his blessing, to provide for the 
 spiritual wants of the ignorant, as well 
 as for the temporal wants of the indigent. 
 Christianity and riches are deposited in 
 the hands of Christians, for the more 
 general dispersion of both to the respect- 
 ively destitute. 
 
 And when, if ever, through the un- 
 merited mercy of God, that glorious and 
 devoutly desired day shall arrive, which 
 warms the heart even in the distant pcr- 
 y 3
 
 486 THE LORD'S PRAYER 
 
 spective of prophecy, when nation shall 
 no more rise against nation, and they 
 shall learn war no more ; what is so likely 
 to hasten that triumphant period, what 
 is so likely to turn the sword into the 
 pruning-hook, and to establish lasting 
 peace throughout the world, as that spi- 
 rit of love and concord which the uni- 
 versal diffusion of gospel light is calcu- 
 lated to impart ? What is so likely to 
 produce charity among all the children 
 of the same common Father, as when 
 subjects as well as sovereigns of every 
 clime and colour, people and language, 
 shall be brought to know God, from the 
 greatest to the least ? 
 
 Those admirable institutions, whose 
 object it is to lead to this blessed consum- 
 mation, have already enlarged the bor- 
 ders of Christian charity to an almost 
 indefinite extent, by bringing into con- 
 tact from every point of the compass, 
 and from almost every city in the civilised 
 world, Christians who had not so much 
 as heard of each other's existence j it has
 
 OUR MODEL. 4-87 
 
 already shewn them that whatever dif- 
 ference of education and of government, 
 whatever modifications of opinion had 
 nitherto divided them, the great funda- 
 mental principles of love to God, of faith 
 in his Son, and charity to the souls of 
 men, are, at length, beginning to draw 
 them into a nearer connection. These 
 general principles of agreement, are al- 
 ready bringing into one point of union, 
 persons whom difference of sentiment 
 had kept asunder as widely as seas had 
 separated, and are the only means, as 
 far as human penetration can foresee, of 
 drawing the cords of amity into still 
 closer bonds. 
 
 Already, even in the early stage of 
 this vast enterprise, may we not perceive 
 that it has had a considerable share in 
 promoting mutual good-will, reciprocal 
 kindness, and growing confidence, and 
 this with foreigners, who, though they 
 had subdued their enmity, might not so 
 soon have conquered their jealousy? Has 
 it not a powerful tendency to cure any 
 y 4
 
 4SS THE LORD*S prayer 
 
 remaining distrust, to confirm good faith, 
 to promote confidence and attachment 
 between nations, whose respect was not, 
 perhaps, altogether untinctured with sus> 
 picion ? May it not break down the wall 
 of partition, which has so long kept us 
 asunder ? May it not bring those who 
 were aforetime separated in heart as well 
 as country, to unite in Christian brother- 
 hood, till we become at length of one 
 mind in doctrine, as we already are in 
 regard to this institution ? May not the 
 probable results of this Christian con- 
 federacy become a ratification between 
 monarchs, firmer than any political com- 
 pact, stronger than any diplomatic con- 
 vention ? For is it not an instrument of 
 confederation of which the great seal, 
 is the word of God ? Does it not em- 
 brace the two sublime objects of the song 
 of the angelic hosts, by uniting " glory 
 to God in the highest, and on earth peace 
 and good-will toward men ?" For what 
 means, we repeat, are so likely to bring 
 churches, who have been hitherto kept
 
 OUR MODEL. 489 
 
 m spiritual darkness, to a gradual and 
 devoutly-desired reformation, as to dis- 
 perse that darkness, as our being the ho- 
 noured instruments of causing the full 
 beams of divine truth to shine more 
 directly upon them ? 
 
 To descend to the very minutest 
 wheels of this mighty engine ; — with 
 whatever derision that which has been 
 denominated popular charity may have 
 been treated ; its inferior divisions have 
 this advantage, that they set in motion 
 the young and the poor. To the young 
 female of fortune, this subordinate part 
 of the great whole, furnishes a kind 
 of novitiate to her future and more ex- 
 tended sphere of charity, for the details 
 of which this sex has the most leisure. 
 To the poor, like the admirable institu- 
 tion of the Savings Bank, though for 
 different purposes, it gives them a little 
 and a safe lift in the scale of society. 
 For will they not be less likely to follow 
 hi, the turbulent train of the seditious, 
 demagogue, less disposed by his perni- 
 y 5
 
 490 the lord's prayer 
 
 cious but persuasive outcry, to give their 
 stated penny for the promotion of riot 
 and the maintenance of rioters, when 
 that penny has been pre-engaged for the 
 circulation of that Volume, which for- 
 bids them to speak evil of dignities, 
 which commands to avoid those who are 
 given to change ; to work, to be quiet, 
 to mind their own business ; which im- 
 peratively says, " I exhort that prayers 
 and intercession be made for kings and 
 all in authority j" and above all, will not 
 the Bible be the surest antidote against 
 the infection of the poison contained in 
 that profusion of books, pamphlets, and 
 placards, which, without such a specific, 
 threatens both our moral and political 
 destruction. 
 
 It is the nature of man to delight in 
 party, he delights to belong to something, 
 to hold to his fellow-creatures, though by 
 the least and lowest link in the chain of 
 society ; let us then take advantage of 
 this his natural weakness. For is it not 
 better to attach him to something that is 
 
 *3
 
 OUR MODEL. 491 
 
 useful to himself and to others, that he 
 may be less likely to be drawn into such 
 schemes as are destructive of his temporal, 
 as well as of his highest interests, and dan- 
 gerous to the security of the state, and of 
 the country. To be connected, though by 
 the lowest and slightest tie, with his 
 superiors, is to the poor man at once an 
 encouragement and a security. To be- 
 long to societies of which princes are 
 the patrons, is at once a gratification 
 and a guard j for will not this connec- 
 tion, remote as it may seem, confirm his 
 abhorrence of those revolutionary so- 
 cieties, whose aim is the overthrow of 
 princes ? 
 
 Let us .not then grudge to the poor 
 who have so few pleasures, that pure, 
 and to them that hitherto untasted 
 pleasure, that almost sacred feeling, how 
 much more blessed it is to give than to 
 receive. Let us not deny them the 
 gratification of being humble contributors 
 towards conveying that word of life to 
 others, by which their own souls have 
 y 6
 
 49$ the lord's prayer 
 
 been benefited; and to which they are 
 indebted for the knowledge, that it is the 
 duty of Christians to teach others what 
 themselves have been gratuitously taught. 
 
 It is, however, most important to re- 
 commend that the petty contributions of 
 the poor should never be extorted, nor 
 even wrung from them by undue in- 
 fluence. It must be a willing offering, 
 not pinched from their necessities, but 
 cheerfully accepted as the thankful tri- 
 bute of successful industry. With re- 
 spect to such as are in distress, and 
 especially in debt, it would be honest 
 neither in themselves to give, nor in the 
 collector to receive. A very few indis- 
 cretions of this kind have given too in- 
 viting a handle, which has been unfairly 
 laid hold of to bring the plan itself into 
 discredit. 
 
 To venture one more passage from 
 the prelate already quoted — and who 
 will accuse Bishop Butler of enthusiasm? 
 — "If the gospel had its proper in- 
 fluence in the Christian world in general,
 
 OUR MODEL. 493 
 
 as this country is the centre of trade, and 
 the seat of learning, a very few years, in 
 all probability, would settle Christianity 
 in every country in the world without 
 miraculous assistance " j & 
 
 If we, then, in this highly favoured 
 land, are blessed with the volume of 
 Divine Revelation, let us impart it to 
 others with the greater alacrity, from the 
 humiliating recollection that it was no 
 merit of our own which brought the news 
 of eternal life to an island of barbarians 
 and idolaters. Freely we have received, 
 freely let us give. 
 
 The Sun of righteousness, which first 
 arose in the east, rejoicing as a giant to 
 run his course, has travelled in the great- 
 ness of his strength, till, having made the 
 circuit of the globe, having illuminated 
 the western world, he is once again rising 
 to shed the glories of his orient beams, 
 where they first dawned. 
 
 (i So sinks the day-star in the Ocean-bed, 
 And yet again repairs his drooping head, 
 And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore 
 Flames in the forehead of his morning sky."
 
 494 the lord's prayer 
 
 Let Commerce, then, wherever she 
 spreads her sails, be assured, that whe- 
 ther she carries the wealth of Ormus, or 
 of Ind, barbaric pearl and gold from the 
 East ; or from the West, the mines of 
 Potosi or Peru, the most precious mer- 
 chandize with which her vessels can be 
 freighted, is that pearl of great price 
 which the merchantman in the Gospel 
 sold all that he had to purchase. 
 
 Let Discovery, wherever she pushes 
 her bold and perilous adventure, where- 
 ever she lights on an inhabited nook of 
 land, even should she succeed in explor- 
 ing the secrets of the polar world ; let 
 her be assured that all the wonders for 
 which gaping curiosity impatiently waits 
 are not to be compared with the wonders 
 contained in that Gospel, which, it is to 
 be hoped, she will make part of her provi- 
 sion for the voyage. Let her be assured, 
 that if she carries the Bible, she will, at 
 her return, bring back no news of equal 
 value with that she carries out ; will bring 
 back to her native home no tidings of
 
 OUR MODEL. 495 
 
 equal joy to the glad tidings of the Gospel 
 she has carried abroad. 
 
 Let Conquest, though her garments 
 have been rolled in blood, make the van- 
 quished the only reparation in her power, 
 not merely like the conquering Caesar 
 and Alexander, by carrying civilisation 
 in her train, but Christianity ; by carry- 
 ing them this charter of our own immor- 
 tal hopes. If this mighty boon will not 
 fully expiate the offences of the injurer, 
 it will more than mitigate, it will even 
 more than repay the wrongs of the in- 
 jured.
 
 496 
 
 ■ 
 
 - 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 - ■ 
 
 " I will be sanctified in them that draw 
 nigh unto me," says the Almighty, by 
 his Prophet. We must, therefore, when 
 we approach Him in our devotions, fre- 
 quently endeavour to warm our hearts, 
 raise our views, and quicken our aspira- 
 tions with a recollection of His glorious 
 attributes, — of that Omnipotence which 
 can give to all without the least deduc- 
 tion from any, or from Himself ; of that 
 ubiquity which renders Him the Constant 
 witness of our actions ; of that Omni- 
 science which makes Him a disc.erner of 
 our intentions, and which penetrates the 
 most secret disguises of our inmost souls ; 
 of that perfect holiness, which should at
 
 CONCLUSION. 497 
 
 once be the object of our adoration, and 
 the model of our practice ; of that truth, 
 which will never forfeit any of His pro- 
 mises ; of that faithfulness, which will 
 never forsake any that trust in Him j 
 of that love, which our innumerable 
 offences cannot exhaust ; of that eternity, 
 which had place " before the mountains 
 were brought forth, from everlasting to 
 everlasting He is God;" of that gran- 
 deur which has set his glory above the 
 heavens ; of that long-suffering of God, 
 who is strong and patient, and who is 
 provoked every day j of that justice which 
 will by no means clear the guilty, yet of 
 that mercy which forgiveth iniquity, 
 transgression, and sin ; of that compas- 
 sion which waits to be gracious ; of that 
 goodness which leadeth to repentance ; of 
 that purity, which, while it hates sin, in- 
 vites the sinner to return. 
 
 All these attributes are his in the ab- 
 stract. He is not only strong, but our 
 strength, not only the giver of life, but 
 life itself, he not only bestows, but is sal-
 
 498 CONCLUSION. 
 
 vation, he not only teaches truth, but is 
 truth, lie not only shews the way to hea- 
 ven, but is the way, not only communi- 
 cates light, but is light. 
 
 When we reflect that even His incom- 
 municable attributes are employed, in 
 never-ceasing exercise for the common 
 benefit and happiness of mankind, ador- 
 ation is melted into gratitude. When we 
 consider, that even His justice, that flam- 
 ing sword which threatened our eternal 
 exclusion from Paradise, the attribute at 
 which the best may tremble, for who is 
 he that lives and sins not, is turned in 
 our favour by the great propitiation 
 made for sin ; that heart must be hard 
 indeed, which is not softened into love. 
 It is because we are so little accustomed 
 to indulge these reflections, that our 
 natural hardness acquires additional ob- 
 duracy. 
 
 Whatever good there is even in the 
 renewed man, is but a faint adumbration 
 of the perfections of God. The best 
 created things, light itself, lose all their
 
 CONCLUSION. 499 
 
 brightness, when compared with the un- 
 created glory from which all they have is 
 borrowed. The heavens are not pure 
 in His sight, behold the moon and it 
 shineth not. He chargeth His angels 
 with folly. The sublimest intellectual 
 intelligencies, and the brightest visible 
 operations of His power, are swallowed 
 up in the contemplation of His underived 
 original perfection. The foolishness of 
 God is wiser than the wisdom of man, 
 and the weakness of God is stronger than 
 the strength of man. 
 
 Yet though the highest conceivable 
 created excellence is thrown into utter 
 darkness, in the comparison with this 
 surpassing splendour, yet these remote 
 resemblances serve to convey some idea, 
 but Oh how weak ! some reminding, but 
 Oh how inadequate ! some conception, 
 but Oh how faint ! of the Divine per- 
 fections. 
 
 Hence in* the highest qualities of the 
 best Christian we have a hint, a rudiment 
 which serves to recal to our mind the
 
 500. CONCLUSION*. 
 
 Divine excellence, of which they are art 
 emanation. We use it, not as a means 
 of overvaluing the creature, but of raising 
 our adoration of the infinite, inexhaust- 
 ible, overflowing fountain of natural, 
 intellectual, and spiritual good. Thus, 
 though we cannot " search out the 
 Almighty to perfection y* yet these 
 faint traces are constant intimations to 
 us to imitate, in our low measure and 
 degree, all the imitable attributes of 
 Almighty goodness. He would never 
 have said, " Be ye holy as I am holy,*' 
 if holiness had been absolutely unattain- 
 able. There must be an aim, however 
 low, at this conformity to our Divine 
 pattern. 
 
 The life which the Lord of glory con- 
 descended to lead on earth, has intro- 
 duced us to the nearest possible view of 
 the Divine perfections, and exhibited a 
 clearer prospect of the possibility of a 
 closer imitation of them, than could nave 
 been conveyed to us by any other means. 
 His actions are not merely objects of
 
 CONCLUSION*. 501 
 
 human admiration. They all, with the 
 exception of his miracles, imperatively 
 demand to be imitated, as well as ad- 
 mired. His meekness under reproaches 
 the most contumelious ; His patience 
 under sufferings the most exquisite ; His 
 combination of active beneficence with 
 unremitting devotion, — for, after days 
 spent in successive acts of charity, He 
 continued all night in prayer to God ; 
 His union of constant self-denial, with un- 
 wearied bounty ; His enduring hunger, 
 who could have relieved it by one of 
 those miracles, so often performed for the 
 relief of others j His compassion for sin- 
 ners joined with His hatred of sin j His 
 supplication for His enemies, extenuating 
 their guilt by pleading their ignorance. 
 " Father, forgive them, for they know 
 not what they do !" 
 
 If this religion be not practical, if this 
 practice be not a pattern for ours, we 
 know not what is. While we obey him 
 then in praying for our fellow-creatures, 
 let us remember that we must imitate his
 
 5Q2 CONCLUSION. 
 
 X)ivitte philanthropy in assisting them ; 
 while we rank ourselves among his ad- 
 mirers, by praising his excellencies, let 
 us remember we shall only be known to 
 be his disciples when we love one an- 
 other. 
 
 If good works then be indispensable, 
 and if Faith be their great influencing 
 principle, both must be kept alive and 
 kept in exercise by the aliment of prayer. 
 Prayer is the chain of communication 
 with God himself: the readiest way to 
 be assimilated to his likeness, the best 
 means of promoting our conformity to 
 His will, of advancing our love to Him 
 and to each other* If we neglect prayer, 
 we rob ourselves of the prescribed means 
 of our serving him here, and of the fairest 
 foretaste of that, communion with Him, 
 which will be our highest happiness here- 
 after. 
 
 The obedience of the heart which 
 grows out of a sound faith, rooted good 
 desires, .well-weighed resolutions of fider 
 lity, formed in a higher strength than
 
 CONCLUSION. 503 
 
 our own ; a belief in the sacred Scrip- 
 tures so confirmed, as not to be shaken by 
 any objections brought against them, by 
 any difficulties to be found in them j the 
 comparing" faithfully all we have heard 
 urged against Religion, with all we have 
 seen of its effects, and experienced of its 
 benefits, all this is the solid ground on 
 which future attainments must hereafter 
 be built, a ground to be tried by prayer in 
 the enquiring mind and the seeking heart. 
 And when our reason is become as 
 strong on the side of Christianity as our 
 belief— when our faith is as enlightened 
 as it is implicit — when the growth of 
 the one only confirms the dominion of 
 the other, this is such an obedience of 
 the heart as will infallibly produce obe* 
 dience in the life j an obedience which 
 will be both the cause and the conse- 
 quence of effectual prayer. 
 
 The renewing of the soul after the 
 image of God is not otherwise to be ob- 
 tained than by true spiritual heart-search- 
 ing prayer. There may be a form of
 
 504' CONCLUSION. 
 
 unfelt petitions, a ceremonious avowal of 
 faith, a customary profession of repent- 
 ance, a general acknowledgment of sin, 
 uttered from the lips to God j — but where 
 is His image and superscription written 
 upon the heart ? Where is the transform- 
 ing power of Religion in the life ? Where 
 is the living transcript of the Divine ori- 
 ginal ? Where is that holiness to which 
 the vision of the Lord is specifically pro- 
 mised ? Where is the light, and life, and 
 grace of the Redeemer exhibited in 
 the temper and conduct ? Yet we are 
 assured, that if we are Christians, there 
 must be an aim at this conformity. 
 
 As for the genuine Christian, however 
 weak in faith, and defective in obedience, 
 yet he is still seeking, though with slow 
 and faultering steps, the things which are ' 
 above ' 7 he is still striving, though with 
 unequal progress, for the prize of his 
 high calling ; — he is still looking, though 
 with a dim and feeble eye, ibr glory, 
 honour, and immortality ; he is still 
 waiting, though not with a trust so lively
 
 CONCLUSION. 505 
 
 as to annihilate the distance, — to see his 
 eternal redemption drawing nigh. Though 
 his aims will always be far greater than 
 his attainments, yet he is not discou- 
 raged ; his hope is above, his heart is 1 
 above, his treasure is above ; no wonder 
 then that his prayers are directed, and a 
 large portion of his wealth sent forward 
 thither, where he himself hopes soon to 
 be. It is but transmitting his riches of 
 both kinds, not only to his future, but his 
 eternal home. 
 
 Even if prayer were as worthless, with 
 respect to present advantages, and reli- 
 gion as burthensome, as some suppose, it 
 would be a sufficient vindication of both 
 that they lead to eternal bliss. When, by 
 a distant journey, we have been long 
 separated from our own beloved habit- 
 ation, we do not call that the most desir- 
 able road back to it which abounds with 
 the gayest objects, but that which will 
 bring us the most safely home. If, 
 indeed, we can amuse ourselves with the 
 scenery, without slackening our pace, or 
 z
 
 506 CONCLUSION. 
 
 diverging from our path, it is well. It 
 is no offence against the law of love, if 
 we catch, in passing, such innocent and 
 safe delights as His bounty has scattered 
 in our path. And if our journey have 
 so many refreshments showered down by 
 the hand of Divine beneficence, what 
 shall be the delights of our home. 
 
 If the heavens grow black with clouds, 
 and storms arise, these only serve to 
 quicken our pace, and make us avoid di- 
 gression. If sickness or accident befal 
 us, our heart is still cheered with the 
 thought that we are nearer home — the 
 future supports us under the present ; a 
 little further say we — a little more 
 fatigue, and we shall see the desire of 
 our heart. If we are bent on security 
 rather than amusement, the straightest 
 and the safest way will determine our 
 choice. Heaven is worth more sacrifices 
 of pleasure and of profit than those 'to 
 which a religious life may subject us j 
 though, after all, it often calls for fewer 
 and lighter than a worldly one imposes.
 
 CONCLUSION. 507 
 
 But if it were as rough and thorny as 
 those who have never tried it believe, 
 it would be a sufficient apology for volun* 
 tarily encountering its hardships, that it 
 is the only road to heaven. 
 
 When the prosperous fool says, "Soul, 
 take thine ease, thou, hast much goods 
 laid up for thee," — the prosperous Chris- 
 tian says, " Soul, tremble at thine ease — 
 be on thy guard. Thou hast, indeed, 
 much goods laid up for thee, but it is in 
 a future world. Lose not a large inherit- 
 ance for a paltry possession ; forfeit not 
 an unalienable reversion for a life-inte- 
 rest,— a life which this very night may 
 be required of thee." 
 
 Perhaps even the worldly and thought- 
 less man, under an occasional fit of de- 
 jection, or an accidental disappointment, 
 may be brought to say, " When I am in 
 heaviness, I will think upon God." — 
 Oh, think upon Him now, — now, when 
 you are in prosperity, now, when your 
 fortunes are flourishing, now, when your 
 hill is so strong that you think it shall 
 z 2
 
 508 CONCLUSION. 
 
 never be removed — think upon Him 
 when the scene is the brightest, when 
 the world courts, flatteries invite, and 
 pleasures betray you ; think on Him while 
 you are able to think at all, while you 
 possess the capacity of thinking. The 
 time may come, when, " He may turn 
 His face from you, and you will be trou- 
 bled." Think of God when the alluring 
 images of pleasure and of profit would 
 seduce you from Him. Prosperity is the 
 season of peculiar peril. " It is the 
 bright day that brings forth the adder." 
 Think of God when the tempting world 
 says, " All this will I give thee." Trust 
 not the insolvent world, it has cheated 
 every creditor that ever trusted it. It 
 will cheat you. 
 
 To those who are yet halting between 
 two opinions, or rather between an opinion 
 and an inclination, to those who approve 
 the right, but pursue the wrong ; those 
 who are not without convictions, but 
 which convictions pleasure stifles, or 
 business overrules j those who are balance-
 
 CONCLUSION. 509 
 
 ing between the world and Him, wfyo 
 made it, who resolve to reform, but make 
 the resolution a substitute for the per- 
 formance. , — and oh how large, and in 
 many points how respectable, a class this 
 is ! — to these, to the doubting, and the 
 dilatory, we would take the liberty to 
 speak plainly. 
 
 It is much to be feared, that secret 
 unconscious infidelity lies at the bottom 
 of the little progress you make in your 
 spiritual attainments. If the truth, cer- 
 tainty, and inconceivable importance of 
 eternal things were once rooted, and 
 grounded in the heart, it would infal- 
 libly quicken both devotion and practice. 
 We know, but we do not act upon, the 
 knowledge, that our great business in 
 this world is to determine our choice for 
 eternity. This is not a bye work, which 
 may be deferred to any time at the hazard 
 of its not being done at all ; it is the im- 
 perious business of the present hour, the 
 next, may not be granted us. It is not 
 an aiiair to be kept in .reserve? an atfair 
 z 3
 
 510 CONCLUSION. 
 
 to be postponed till other affairs are set- 
 tled; for how many souls has this dilatory 
 delusion ruined ! bow<oii£ ? 
 
 The resolution you may make at this 
 moment, and the practical effect of this 
 resolution may determine your fate for 
 ever. The decision, if delayed, may 
 never be made ; the call, now given, may 
 never be repeated. Think what you put 
 to hazard by delay. There is not an 
 hour in our lives on which eternal life, 
 or eternal death may not depend. Shall 
 we then, for a single moment, make it a 
 matter of debate what our everlasting 
 condition shall be? If it were a decision 
 between two temporal concerns whieh 
 you were called upon to make, deliber- 
 ation might be wisdom, because there 
 might be degrees of comparison between 
 their value, and consequently a doubt as 
 .to the predominance of the object, and 
 the prudence of your choice. But the 
 inequalities of created things are levelled 
 when brought into comparison with the 
 things of eternity — - the difference of
 
 CONCLUSION. 511 
 
 more or less, richer or poorer, prosperity 
 or privation, no longer exists ; the dis- 
 tinction is swallowed up when contem- 
 plated in the view of endless happiness 
 or endless misery. Here then* if yon 
 hesitate, you have already taken your 
 -part : irresolution is decision ; deliber- 
 ation is destruction j you have already 
 resolved. 
 
 The hand which now holds the pen 
 dares not denounce anathemas, but trem- 
 bles as it transcribes the divinely inspired 
 denunciation of the prophet Zephaniah. 
 14 The great day of the Lord is near, it 
 is near, it hasteth greatly ; it is the voice 
 of the day of the Lord, when the mighty 
 man shall cry bitterly. That day- is a 
 day of wrath ; a day of trouble and dis- 
 tress ; a day of wasteness and desolation ; 
 a day of darkness and gloominess ; a day 
 of clouds and thick darkness ; a day of 
 the trumpet and alarm ! " 
 . The awful ruins of imperial Rome, 
 the still more defaced vestiges of learned 
 Athens, present a deeply touching spec-
 
 512 CONCLUSION. 
 
 tacle of departed glory. Still more af- 
 fecting is it to contemplate in the volume 
 of history the destruction of Carthage, of 
 Babylon, of Memphis, whose very ruins 
 are no longer to be found ! How affect- 
 ing to meditate on ancient Troy, whose 
 very scite can no longer be determined! 
 Yet here no wonder mixes with- _ou* so- 
 lemn feelings. All these noble monu- 
 ments of human grandeur were made of 
 destructible materials, they could not, 
 from their very nature, last for ever. 
 But, to a deeply-reflecting mind, what is 
 the ruin of temples, towers, palaces, and 
 cities, what is the ruin of " the great 
 globe itself '" compared with the destruc- 
 tion of one soul meant for immortality-— 
 a soul furnished by its bountiful Creator 
 with all the means for its instruction, 
 sanctification, redemption, and eternal 
 bliss? — And what presents the most 
 mournful picture to us, and is in itself 
 the most dreadful aggravation, is, that its 
 consciousness cannot be extinguished, 
 the thought of what he might have been
 
 CONCLUSION. 513 
 
 will magnify the misery of what he is — 
 a reflection which will accompany and 
 torment the inextinguishable memory 
 through a miserable eternity. 
 
 Whether in the instance of the rich 
 man, who " in hell lift up his eyes, being 
 in torment," we might dare believe that 
 some remains of human tenderness for 
 his relatives might survive in a ruined 
 soul j or, whether his anguish was made 
 more bitter, from the reflection, that he 
 had been their corrupter, and therefore 
 dreaded that their punishment might 
 hereafter aggravate his own, we pretend 
 not to say. In any event, it offers a les- 
 son pregnant with instruction. It ad- 
 monishes every impenitent offender, of 
 the dreadful addition that may be made 
 to his own misery, by that corrupt ex- 
 ample which has ruined others. And it 
 will be the consummation of his calamity 
 that he can see nothing but justice in his 
 condemnation. For it is worth observ- 
 ing, that the man in the parable brings 
 no accusation against the equity of his
 
 514 CONCLUSIONS 
 
 sentence. Thus shall every condemned 
 sinner "justify God in his saying, and 
 clear him when he is judged." 
 
 But though the anguish of an undone 
 futurity, and the specific nature of the 
 punishment, are exhibited with awful 
 clearness and explicit exactness, m the 
 Gospel ; how wisely has the Holy Spirit, 
 who dictated it, avoided all particulars 
 of that heavenly happiness which we are 
 yet assured will be without measure and 
 without end j — » whilst the Elysian groves 
 of the Pagan, and the Paradise of the 
 Mahometan have been graphically repre- 
 sented, the former by their poets, the lat- 
 ter in their religious code. The one de- 
 scribes the inhabitants reposing in gloomy 
 bowers in cheerless indolence ; with the 
 alternative of a restless activity exercised 
 in contemptible pursuits, and renewing 
 on inferior objects the busy feats in which 
 they had delighted here below! The he- 
 roes, who during life had slaughtered' men* 
 make war on beasts ! The mighty war- 
 riors, who had made the earth to tremble,
 
 CONCLUSION. 515 
 
 condescend in heaven to tame horses ! 
 The departed Mussulman receives his 
 celestial rewards in scenes of revelry and 
 banquets of voluptuousness \ What gra- 
 tifications for an immaterial, immortal 
 spirit ! 
 
 The whole scheme of future happiness 
 exhibited in these two systems, is a pre- 
 posterous provision for the perishable 
 part of man, to the entire exclusion of the 
 immortal principle ; both schemes stand 
 in direct opposition to the laws of infinite 
 wisdom, and the express word of Scrip- 
 ture. Both intimate as if the body 
 were the part of our nature which is to 
 exist after death, while the soul is the 
 portion which is to be extinguished. 
 Of a spiritual heaven, neither the obso- 
 lete mythology, nor the existing Koran, 
 affords the slightest intimation. 
 
 The Scripture views of heaven are 
 given rather to quicken faith than to 
 gratify curiosity. There the appropriate 
 promises to spiritual beings are purely 
 spiritual. It is enough for believers to
 
 516 CONCLUSION. 
 
 know that they shall be for ever with the 
 Lord ; and though it doth not yet appear 
 what we shall be, yet we know that 
 when he shall appear, we shall be like 
 Him. In the vision of the Supreme 
 Good, there must be supreme felicity. 
 Our capacities of knowledge and hap- 
 piness shall be commensurate with our 
 duration. On earth, part of our enjoy- 
 ment — - a most fallacious part — consists 
 in framing new objects for our wishes ; 
 in heaven there shall remain in us no 
 such disquieting desires, for all which 
 can be found we shall find in God. We 
 shall not know our Redeemer by the 
 hearing of the ear, but we shall see him 
 as he is ; our knowledge, therefore, will 
 be clear, because it will be intuitive. 
 
 It is a glorious part of the promised 
 bliss, that the book of prophecy shall 
 be realised ; the book of providence 
 displayed ; every mysterious dispensation 
 unfolded, not by conjecture, but by vision. 
 In the grand general view of Revelation, 
 minute description would be below our 
 
 12
 
 CONCLUSION. 517 
 
 ideas j circumstantial details would be 
 disparaging; they would debase what 
 they pretended to exalt. We cannot 
 conceive the blessings prepared for us, 
 until he who has prepared reveal them. 
 
 If, indeed the blessedness of the eter- 
 nal world could be described, new 
 faculties must be given us to compre- 
 hend it. If it could be conceived, its 
 glories would be lowered, and our ad- 
 miring wonder diminished. The wealth 
 that can be counted has bounds ; the 
 blessings that can be calculated have 
 limits. We now rejoice in the expect- 
 ation of happiness inconceivable. To 
 have conveyed it to our full apprehension, 
 our conceptions of it must then be taken 
 from something with which we are al- 
 ready acquainted, and we should be sure 
 to depreciate the value of things unseen, 
 by a comparison with even the best of the 
 things which are seen. In short, if the 
 state of heaven were attempted to be let 
 down to human intelligence, it would 
 be far inferior to the glorious but indis- 
 A a
 
 518 CONCLUSION. 
 
 tinct glimpses which we now catch from 
 the oracles of God, of joy unspeakable, 
 and full of glory. What Christian does 
 not exult in that grand outline of un- 
 known, unimagined, yet consummate 
 bliss — in Thy presence is the fullness 
 of joy, and at Thy right-hand is pleasure 
 for evermore ? 
 
 
 . v.'*;: • 
 
 
 
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