^f^ LIBRARY OF xnr; University of California. GIFT 01=*^ Mrs. SARAH P. WALS WORTH. Received October, i8g4. Accessions No. dZ?^^- Class No. . SERMONS BY HENRY MELVILL, B. D. MINISTER OF CAMDEN CHAPEL, CAMBERWELL, LATE FELLOW AND TUTOR OF ST. PETEr's COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. COMPRISINU ALL, THE DISCOURSES PUBLISHED BY CONSENT OF THE AUTHOR. EDITED BY TilE rJGHT REV. C. P. ftMLVAlNE, D. D. BISHOP OF THE PROTESTANT EPISCOPAL CHURCH IN THE DIOCESE OF OHIO. THIRD EDITION, ENLARGED. fK m NEW-YORK : STANFORD & SWORDS, IS'J 15ROAUWAV. PHILADELPHLV; GEORGE S. APPLETO.V, 148 ClIESNUT-STREET. 1844. B X ^"Z 3 3 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1844, by Staniose & SwoKDS, in the Clerk's Oflice of the ijoulhern District of New- York- NEW- YORK: Printed by Daniel Fan>ha». C; O N TENT S Editor's Prpface, Page 5 Sermon 1. — The First Prophecy, .... 9 .Sermon II. — Christ tl\p Minister of the Cliurch, . 20 .Sermon III. — The Iiiipossibilily ot'Creatiire Merit, 30 Sermon IV. — Tlie humiliation ofthe Man Christ Jesus, 40 Sermon V.— The Doctrine of the iiesurrectioii viewed in connection with that of the Soul's imniortality. ... 51 Sermon VI. — TliePower of Wickedness ami Kiph- teonsness to reproduce themselves, CI Sermon VII. — The I'ower of lleligion to strength- en the Human Intellect, . . . 71 Sermon VIII. — Tlie. Provision made by God for the Poor, 83 Sermon IX. — St. Paal a Tent-maker, . . . !I3 Sermon X. — The advantaijesofj slate of K.\pec tail on, 103 Sermon XI. — Truth as it is in Jesus, . . . 114 Sermon XII. — The Difficulties of Scripture, . . lio Sermons 2»'cached before the Univcrsiti/ of Cam- hridge, Fcbruari/, 183b'. Sermo.vI. — The Greatuc.'sand Condescension of God, 139 Sermon II. — The Ti/rniination of the fllediatorial Kingdom, 146 Sermon HI. — The advantages rcsultinjr from the Possession of ilii! Scriptures, . . 1.'54 Sermon. — Ncfjleot of the Gospel followed by its Re- moval, 102 Sfit.^l Sermon.— .Preached before the Lord Slayor, &c. \u Christ Church, Newgate- street, April, 18.J1, . . .171 Scrmona preached in Greed S/. Mary's Church, Camhridge, al the Evening Lecture in Febru- (ir>j, lo'3() and 1837. Sermon (1836.) — The Greatness of Salvation an Ar- gument for the Peril of its Neglect, 181 Sermon. — " On the KiTects of Consideraliou, . 100 Sermon (1837.)— The Two Son-, . . . .201 ■Sermon. — " The Dispersion and Restoration of the Jews, 210 Sermons j:reached. before tlie Univcrsiti/ of Cam- bridge, February, 1337. Sermon I. — The Uiinaturalness of Disobedience to Ihe Gosi.e), 221 Sermon II.— Souffs in the Night 2J8 Sermon HI. — 'I'eslimoiiy confirmed by E.\peri«nce, 236 Sermon IV. — The General Resurrection and Judg- ment, 2-13 Sermon. — The Anchor of the Soul. Preached at Trinity Church, Chelsea, July, 183B, in behalf of the Episcopal Floating Chapel, ...... 251 Sermon. — The Divine Patience exhausted through the making void the I, aw, . . 259 Sermon. — The Strength which Faith gains by Ex- perience, ...... 270 MISCi?LLANEOUS SERMONS. Sermon I. — Jacob's Vision and Vow, . . . 281 Sermon II. — The continued Agency of the Father and the Soi 292 Sermon HI. — The Resurrection of Dry Bones, . 302 Sermon IV. — Protestaiuisin and Popery, . . 313 Sermon V. — Christianity a Sword, .... 325 Sermon VI.— The Deatiiol Moses, . . . . 335 Sermon Vil. — 1'he Ascension of Christ, . . . 315 Sermon Vlll. — The Spirit upon the Waters, , . 355 Sermon IX. — Tlie Proportion of Grace to Trial, . 366 Sermon X. — Pleading before the Mountains, . . 378 Sermon XI. — Heaven, 390 Sermon XII. — God's Way in the Sanctuary, . . 4u3 .Sermon XIII. — Equity of the Future Retribution, . 415 Oonlciils of the Volume, now far the first time published ill thin Cuuntry. SERMON I. THE F.MTH 01- JOSEPH ON HIS DEATH-BED. By faith Joseph, when he difil, made mentioii ofthe departing of the children of Israel, and gave commandment concerning his bones. — Hebrews, 11 :22 420 SERMON H. ANGELS AS REMEMBRANCERS. He is not here, but is risen : remember how ho spake unto yon, when he was yet in Galilee, saying. The Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and the third day rise again. And they remembered his word.s. — Luke, 24 : 6, 7, 8 439 SERMON III. THE BURNING OK THE MAGICAL BOOKS. Many of theiu also wliicli used curious arts, brought their book.s together, and burned ilipin before all men : and they counted the price of thRiii, and found it fifty thousand pieces of silver. — Acts, 19:19 Pvge 448 SERMON IV. • THE PARTING HYMN. And when they had sung an hymn, ihcy went out in- to the mount of Olnes.—ftlatthew, 26 : 30. . 458 SERMON V. CflESAR's HOUSEHOLD. All the saints salute you, chiefly they thai are of Cop- sar's household. — Philippiaiis, 4 : 22. . . 466 SERMON VL THE SLEEPLESS NIGHT. On that night could not the king sleep ; and he com- manded to bring the book of records of the chronicles ; and they were read before the king. Esther,6;l 477 SERMON VII. , THE WELL OF BETHLEHEM. And David longed, and said. Oh, that one would give me drink ofthe water ofthe well of Bethlehem, which is by the gate ! And the three mighty men brake through the host of the Philistines, and drew water out of the well of Bethlehem, that was by llie gale, and took it, and brought it lo David : nevertheless he would not drink thereof, hot [mured it out unlo the Lord. And he said. Be it far from me, O Lord, that I should do this: is not this the blood of the men that went iu jeopardy of their lives ? therefore he would not drink it— 2 Samuel, 23: 15, 16, 17. . . .486 SERMON VIII. THE THIRST OF CHRIST. After this, Jesus, knowing that all things were now accomplished, thai the Scripture might be ful- filled, sailh, I thirst.— John, 19 : 28. . . . 497 SERMON IX. THE SECOND DELIVERY OF THE LORD'S PRAY£R. And it came to pass, that, as he was praying in a certain place, when he ceased, one of his disci- ples said unto him. Lord, teach us to pray, as John also taught his disciples. — Luke, 11 : 1. . 507 SERMON X. PECULIARITIES IN THE MIRACLE IN THE COASTS OP DECAPOLIS. And he took him .aside from the multitude, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spit, and touch- ed his tongue; and looking up to heaven, he sighed, and said unto him, Ephphatha, that is. Be opened.— Mark, 7 : 33, 34 51.5 SERMON XI. THE LATTER RAIN. Ask ye ofthe Lord rain in the time of the latter rain; so the Lord shall make bright clouds, and give them showers of rain, to every one grass iu the field.— Zechari.ah, 10 : 1 526 SERMON XII. THE LOWLY ERRAND. And if any man say ousht unto you, ye shall say. The Lord hath need of them, and straightway he will send them.— Matthew, 21.: 3. . . 534 SERMON XIII. NEHEMIAH BEFORE ARTAXER.XES. I said unto the king. Let the king live forever: why should not my countenance be sad, when the city, the place of my fathers' sepulchres, lietli waste, and the gates thereof are consumed with fire? Then the king said unto me. For what dost thou make request) So I prayed to the God of heaven. And I said unto the king, If it please the king, and if thy servant have found favor in thy sight, that thou wouldest send me unto Judali, unto the city of my fathers' sepulchres, that I may build it. — Neh. 2 : 3, 4, 5. 544 SERMON XIV. JABEZ. And Jabez was more honorable than his brethren; and his mother called his name Jabez, saying. Because I bare him with sorrow. And Jabez called on the God of Israel, saying. Oh that thou wouldest bless me indeed, and enlarge my coast, and that thine hand might be with me, and that thou wouldest keep me from evil, that it may not grieve me. And God granted him that which he requested.— 1 Cliron 4 : 9, 10. . . . 552 TO THE CONGREGATION OF CAMDEN CHAPEL, CAMBERWELL, In acknowledgment of many kindnesses shown him, through years of health, and months of sickness; and in the hope that what is now published may help to strengthen them for duty, and comfort them in trial, this volume is inscribed with every sentiment of christian affection, by their faithful friend and pastor, the a-cthor. PREFACE. The Author has selected the following sermons for publication, from hav- ing observed that passages of Scripture which may more easily be overlooked, as presenting nothing very prominent, prove especially interesting to an audi- ence, when shown to be "profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness." He has material in hand for another volume of the like kind, and may hereafter commit it to the press, if he should have reason to think that the present has proved acceptable. CAMBERWELL, January, 1843. EDITOR'S r R E F A C E The author of these discourses is well known in England as an eloquent and earnest preacher of the Gospel. "Envy itself," say's the British Critic, "must acknowledge his great abilities and great eloquence." After having occupied tlie highest standing, while an under-graduate of the University of Cambridge, he was chosen to a Fellowship in St. Peter's College, and, for some time, was a tutor to that Society. Thence he was called to the pastoral charge of Camden Chapel, (a proprietary chapel,) in the overgrown parish of Camberwell, one of the populous suburbs of London. The first twelve discourses in this volume were preached in that pulpit, and the rest, Avhile he was connected there- Avith. It has not unfrequently been the privilege of the Editor to worship and listen, in company with the highly uiteresting and intelligent congregation that crowds the pews and aisles, and every corner of a standing-place in that edifice; fully participating in that entire and delightful captivity of mind in which their beloved pastor is wont to lead the whole mass of his numerous auditory. Melvill is not yet what is usually called a middle-aged man. His constitution and physi- cal powers are feeble. His lungs and chest needing constant care and protection, often seem determined to submit no longer to the efforts they are required to make in keeping pace Avith his high-wrought and intense animation. The hearer sometimes listens Avith pain lest an instrument so frail, and struck by a spirit so nerved with the excitement of the most inspiring themes, should suddenly break some silver cord, and put to silence a harper whose notes of thunder, and strains of warning, invitation, and tenderness, the church is not prepared to lose. Generally, however, one thinks but little of the speaker while hearing Melvill. The manifest defects of a very peculiar delivery, both as regards its action and intonation; (if that may be called action which is the mere quivering and jerking of a body too intensely excited to be quiet a moment) — the evident feebleness and exhaustion of a frame charged to the brim with an earnestness which seems laboring to find a tongue in every limb, w^hile it keeps in strain and rapid action every muscle and fibre, are forgotten, after a little progress of the discourse, in the rapid and swellmg current of thought in which the hearer is carried along, wholly engrossed Avith the new aspects, the rich and gloAving scenery, the bold prominences and beautiful landscapes of truth, remarkable both for variety and unity, Avith which every turn of the stream delights him. But then one must make haste, if he Avould see all. Melvill delivers his discourses as a Avar-horse rushes to the charge. He literally runs, till for want of breath he can do so no longer. His involun- tary pauses are as convenient to his audience as essential to himself. Then it is, that an equally breathless audience, betraying the most convincing signs of having forgotten to breathe, commence their preparation for the next outset Avith a degree of unanimity and of business-like effort of adjustment, Avhich can hardly fail of disturbing, a little, a stranger's gravity. There is a peculiarity in the composition of Melvill's congregation Avhich contributes much to give peculiarity to his discourses. His chapel is a centre to Avhich hearers flock, draAvn by the reputation of the preacher, not only from all the neigliborhood, but from di- vers parts of the great metropolis, bringing under his reach, not only the highest intellec- tual character, but all varieties of states of mind; from that of the devout believer, to that of the habitual doubter, or confirmed infidel. In this mixed multitude, young men, of great importance, occupy a large place. Seed sown in that congregation is seen scattered over all London, and carried into all England. Hence there is an evident eflort on the part of the preacher to introduce as much variety of topic and of treatment as is consistent Avith the great duty of always preaching and teaching Jesus Christ; of always holding up the cross, Avith all its connected truths surrounding it, as the one great and all-pervading sub- ject of his ministry. To these circumstances he alludes in a passage towards the end of the sermon on the Difficulties of Scripture, a sermon Ave Avould particularly recommend to the reader — and a passage, introductory to one of the most eloquent and impressive parts of the Avhole volume. " We feel (he says) that avc have a difficult part to perform in minis- tering to the congregation which assembles Avithin these Avails. Gathered as it is from many parts, and without question including, oftentimes, numbers who make no profession, Avhatsoever, of religion, Ave think it bound on us to seek out great variety of subjects, so that, if possible, the case of none of the audience may be quite overlooked in a series of EDITOR S PREFACE. discourses." We know not the preacher who succeeds belter in this respect ; Avho causes to pass before his people a richer, or more complete array of doctrinal and practical truth ; exhibits it in a "-reater variety of lights; surrounds it with a scenery of more appropriate and strikinfT illustration; meets more of the influential difficulties of young and active minds; "-rapples with more of the real enmity of scepticism, and for all classes of his con- greo-ation more diligently "seeks out acceptable words," or brings more seasonably, out of his treasures, things new and old, and yet without failing to keep within the circle of al- ways preaching Christ — teaching not only the truth, but " the truth as it is in Jesus," without obscurity, without compromise, and without fear; pointedly, fully, habitually. It is on account of this eminent union of variety and faithfulness, this wide compass of excursion without ever losing sight of the cross as the central light and power in which every thing in religion lives, and moves, and has its being; it is because that same variety of minds which ihrong the seats and standing-places of Camden chapel, and hang with delight upon the li])s of the preacher, finding in his teaching what rivets their attention, rebukes their worldliness, shames their doubts, annihilates their difficulties, and enlarges their views of the great and precious things of the Gospel, are found every where in this land, especially among our educated young men, tbat Ave have supposed the publication of these discourses might receive the Divine blessing, and be productive of very important benefits. It can hardly be necessary to say, that in causing a volume to issue from the press, as this does, one does not make himself responsible for every jot and tittle of what it con- tains. It may be calculated powerfully to arrest attention, disarm prejudice, conciliate respect, stimulate inquiry, impress most vital truth ; and in many ways effect a great deal of good, though we be not prepared to concur with its author in some minor thoughts or incidental ideas on which none of the great matters in his volume depend. There are some aspects in which these discourses may be profitably studied by candi- dates for orders, and indeed by most preachers, exclusive of the substantial instruction of their, contents. We do not refer to their style. This we cannot recommend for imitation. However Ave may like it in Melvill, because it is emphatically his, the mode of his mind; the o-ait in Avhich his thoughts most naturally march on their high places; the raiment in Avhich his inner man invests itself, Avithout effort, and almost of necessity, Avhen he takes the place of ambassador of the King of kings, Ave might not like it any Avhere else. Hoav- ever this peculiar turn and SAvell of expression may be adapted to that peculiar breadth, and height, and brilliancy of conception for Avhich this author is often distinguished; Avith all those other attributes" Avhich adapt his discourses to opportunities of usefulness not of- ten improved ; and a class of readers not often attracted, by the preacher; Ave should think it a great evil if our candidates for orders should attempt to appear in such floAving robes. For the same reason that they sit Avell on him, would they sit awkwardly on them. They are his, and not theirs. His mind Avas measured for such a dress. Nature made it up and adapted it to his style of thought, insensible to himself. The diligent husbandman may^ be as useful in his Avay, as the prince in his. But the husbandman in the equipment of the prince Avould be sadly out of keeping. Not more than if a mind of the usual turn and character of thought should emulate the stride and the swing, the train and the plumage of Melvill. It is in the ea:;)o,s?7ory character of this author's discourses, that Ave would present them for imitation. Of the expositions themselves, Ave are not speaking; but of the conspicu- ous fact that Avhatever Scripture he selects, his sermon is made up of its elements. His text does not merely introduce his subject, but suggests and contains it; and not only con- tains, but is identical Avith it. His aim is confined to the single object of setting forth plainly and instructive^/ some one or tAvo great features of scriptural truth, of Avhich the chosen passage is a distinct declaration. No matter what the topic, the hearer is sure of an interesting and prominent setting out of the text in its connection, and that it Avill exer- cise an important bearing upon every branch of the discourse, constantly receiving new lights and applications, and not finally'relinquished till the sermon is ended, and the hearer has obtained an inception of that one passage of the Bible upon his mind, never to be for- gotten. In other Avords, Melvill is strictly a preacher upon texts, instead of subjects; up- on truths, as expressed and connected in the IBible, instead of topics, as insulated or classi- fied, according to the ways of man's Avisdom. This is precisely as it should be. The preacher is not called to deliver dissertations upon questions of theology, or oratio7is upon specific themes of duty and spiritual interest, but expositions of divine truth as that is pre- sented in tlie infinitely diversified combinations, and incidental allocations of the Scriptures. His Avork is simply that of making, through the blessing of God, the Holy Scriptures "profitable for doctrine, reproof, correction, and instruction in righteousness." This he is to seek by endeavoring " rightly to divide the Avord of truth." Too much, by far, has the preaching of these days departed from this expository character. The praise of invention is too much coveted. The simplicity of interpretation and application is too much under- A^alued. We must be content to take the bread as the Lord has created it, and perfona ElJlTOi; S PIIEKACE. / Uie humble ollicc of distnbiUion, going round amidst the multitude, and giving to all as eacli may need, believmg that he who provided it will see that there be enough and to spare, instead of desiring to stand in the place of the Master, and improve by our wisdom the simple elements, " the Jive barley loaves''^ which he alone can make sufficient "among so many." But apart from the dnti/ of preacliing upo?i and out of the Scriptures, instead of merely talcing a verse as the starting-place of our train of remark ; apart frotn the obligation of so expounding the word of God, that the sermon shall take its shape and character from the text; and the doctrine and the duty shall be taught and urged according to the relative bearings and proportions in which they are presented therein; this textual \)\an ut' cou- structing discourses is the only one by Avhich a preacher can secure a due variety in his ministry, except he go outside the limits of always preaching Christ crucified, and deal Avith other matters than such as bear an important relation to the person, office, and bene- fits of " the Lord our Righteousness." He who preaches upon subjects in diviniti/, instead of passages of Scripture, fitting a text to his theme, instead of extracting his theme from his text, will soon find that, in the ordinary frequency of parochial ministrations, he has gone the round, and traced all the great highways of his field, and what to do next, with- out repeating his course, or changing his whole mode of proceeding, he will be at a great loss to discover. Distinct objects in the preacher's message, like the letters in his alpha- bet, are few — few when it is considered that his life is to be occupied in exhibiting them. But their combinations, like those of the letters of the alphabet, are innumerable. Few are the distinct classes of objects Avhich make up the beautiful landscapes under the light and shadows of a summer's day. The naturalist, who describes by genera and species, may soon enumerate them. But boundless is the variety of aspects in which they appear un- der all their diversities of shape, color, relation, magnitude, as the observer changes place, and sun and cloud change the light. The painter must paint for ever to exhibit all. So as to the great truths to which the preacher must give himself for life. Their variety of com- binations, as exhibited in the Bible, is endless. He who treats them with strict reference to all the diversities of shape, proportion, incident, relation, circumstance, under which the pen of inspiration has left them, changing his point of observation with the changing positions and wants of his hearers, alloAving the lights and shadows of Providence to lend their rightful influence in varying the aspect and applications of the truth — such a preacher, if his heart be fully in his work, can never lack variety, so far as it is proper for one who is to " know nothing among' men but Jesus Christ and him crucified." He Avill constantly feel as if he had only begun the work given him to do — furnished only a few specimens out of a rich and inexhaustible cabinet of gems. By strictly adhering to this plan, the au- thor of these discourses attains unusual variety in his ministry, considering that he makes it so prominently his business to teach and preach Jesus Christ. But here it may be well to say that by variety, as desirable to a certain extent, in the preacher's work, we mean nothing like originality. Some minds cannot help a certain measure of originality. They may treat of old themes, and with ideas essentially the same as any one else would employ, but with peculiarities of thought which set them far apart from all other minds. But to seek originality, while it is very commonly the mis- take of young preachers, is a very serious error. There cannot be any thing new in the preacher's message. He that seeks novelties will be sure to preach yanc/es. "The real difficulty and the real triumph of preaching is to enforce home upon the mind and con- science, trite, simple, but all-important truths; to urge old topics in common language, and to send the hearer back to his house awakened, humbled, and impressed ; not so much astonished by the blaze of oratory, but thinking far more of the argument than of the j)reacher; sensible of his own sins, and anxious to grasp the proffered means of salvation. To say the same things which the best and most pious ministers of Christ's church have said from the beginning; to tread in their path, to follow their footsteps, and yet not ser- vilely to copy, or verbally to repeat them ; to take the same groundwork, and yet add to it an enlarged and diversified range of illustrations, brought up as it were to the age, and adapted to time and circumstance; this is, Ave think, the true originality of the pulpit. To be on the Avatch to strike out some novel method of display, — to dash into the fanciful, because it is an arduous task to arrest the same eager notice by the familiar — this is not originality, but mannerism or singularity. And although fcAV can be original, nothing is more easy than to be singular." The discourses contained in this volume are all that Melvill has published ; unless there be one, or tAvo, in pamphlet form, of Avhich the Editor has not heard. We say all that Melvill has published. Many others have been published surreptitiously, Avhich'he never prepared for the press, and Avhich ought not to be read as specimens of his preaching. In the English periodical, called " The Pulpit," there are many such sermons, under the name of Melvill. In justice to that distinguished preacher, and to all others Avhose names are similarly used, it should be knoAvn that the co\itcnts of that Avork are mere stenographic reports, by hired agents oi the press, Avho go to church that they may get an article for LDITOU S I'UEFACE. the next number of Tliu Pulpit. While the rest of the congregation are hearing the ser- mon for spiritual, they are hearing it for pecuniary profit. We see no diflerence between a week-day press, furnished thus by Sunday writers, and a Sunday-press furnished by Aveek-day writers. "The Pulpit" is in this way as much a desecrater of the Sabbath as the "Sunday Morning Post," or "Herald." But this is not the point at present. We are looking at the exceeding injustice done to the preacher whose sermons are reported. It may be that he is delivermg a very familiar, perhaps an unwritten discourse ; special cir- cumstances have 'prevented his devoting the usual time or mind to the preparation, or have interfered with his getting up the usual energy of thought for the work. He does not dream of the public press. The sermon may be useful for his people, but just the one Avhich he would dislike to sead out before the world. Nevertheless, the reporter for The Pulpit has happened to choose his church, that morning, "/o?- better, for uwrse," and he cannot lose his time. The tale of bricks must be rendered to the taskmaster. The press waits for its article, and the stenographer wants his wages, and favorable or unfavorable, the report must be printed. Like all such productions, it is of course often careless and inaccurate; sometimes provokingly and very injuriously inaccurate. The attention of the scribe happened to he diverted at a place of main importance ; he lost the explanatory re- mark, the qualifying words, the connecting link — his report is thus untrue: either he leaves the hiatus, occasioned by his negligence, unsupplied, or, what is often the case, daubs it up with his own mortar, puts many sentences into the preacher's mouth of his own taste and divinity — thus is the precious specimen composed, and that week is adver- tised, to the great mortification of the alleged author, «?i original sermon in the last num- her of the Pulpit, by the Rev. Henry Melvill, SjC. Such is the history of almost every ser- mon which has as yet been read iu this country as belonging to that author; The Pulpit, or extracts from it having circulated widely, while the real sermons of Melvill, having been, prior to this, confined to volumes of English edition, are scarcely known among us. No one can help seeing how injurious such surreptitious publications must be to the preacher; what a nuisance to the body whom they profess to represent. So is the maga- zine of which we have been speaking, regarded in England. Not unfrequenlly ministers have been obliged to print their discourses for the purpose of correcting the errors of its reporters. More than once its Editor has been prosecuted for the purpose (though in vain) of slopping this exceedingly objectionable mode of sustaining "The Pulpit." The editor of this volume has thought it expedient to make these remarks by way of explanation of his having excluded all the discourses ascribed to Melvill contained in The Pulpit. If there be any discourses under the same name, in the other periodical of the same character, called "the British Preacher, they are subject to the same condemnation. It is no little evidence of the value of these sermons, in this volume, which were preached before the University of Cambridge, that their publication was in consequence of a request "from the resident Bachelors and Under-graduates, headed by the most dis- tinguished names, and numerously signed." A strong attestation has also been given not only to the University sermons, but to those preached in the author's Chapel, in Camber- Aveil, in the fact that, flooded as is the market with the immense variety of pulpit com- position, which the London press continually pours in, so that a bookseller can scarcely be persuaded to publish a volume of sermons at his own risk, and such a volume seldom reaches beyond a single edition, these of Melvill have, iii a short time, attained ihen third , and do not cease to attract much attention. The British Critic, though criticising with some justice and more severity some peculiarities of our author, speaks of the Cambridge sermons as possessing many specimens of great power of thought, and extraordinary felicity and brilliancy of diction." "Pleartily " does the Reviewer " admire the breathing Avords, the bold figures, the picturesque images, the forcible reasonings, the rapid, vivid, fervid perorations." In conclusion of this Preface, the Editor adds the earnest hope that the author of these discourses may receive w^ages, as well in this country as his own— wages such as best pay the devoted minister of Christ; that he may reap Avhere he did not think of sowing, and gather where he did not expect to strew, to the praise of the glory of our blessed Lord, and only Savior, Jesus Christ. ^ • C. P. M. Garabicr, Ohio, July 1,183S. SERMON I. THE FIRST PROPHECY. ..And I wiU put enmity between thee and the woman, and between thy seed and her seed: it .haU bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel."— Genesis, m; 15. Such is the first prophecy which oc- curs in Scripture. Adam and Eve had transgressed the simple command of their Maker ; they had hearkened to the suggestions of the tempter, and eaten of the forbidden fruit. Summoned into the presence of God, each of the three par- ties is successively addressed ; but the serpent, as having originated evil, re- ceives first his sentence. We have, of course, no power of as- certaining the external change which the curse brought upon the serpent. The terms, however, of the sentence, " upon thy belly shalt thou go, and dust shalt thou eat all the days of thy life," Gen. 3:14, seem to imply that the ser- pent had not been created a reptile, but became classed with creeping things, as a consequence of the curse. It is proba- ble that heretofore the serpent had been remarkable for beauty and splendor, and that on this account the tempter chose it as the vehicle of his approaches. Eve, m all hkelihood, was attracted towards the creature by its loveliness : and when she found it endowed, like herself, with the power of speech, she possibly concluded that it had itself eaten of the fruit, and ac- quired thereby a gift which she thought confined to herself and her husband. But we may be sure, that, although, to mark his hatred of sin, God pro- nounced a curse on the serpent, it was against the devil, who had actuated the sei-pent, that the curse was chiefly di- rected. It may be said that the serpent itself must have been innocent in the matter, and that the curse should have fallen on none but the tempter. But you are to remember that the serpent suffered not alone : every living thing had share in the consequences of dis- obedience. And although the efi'ect of man's apostacy on the serpent may have been more signal and marked than on other creatures, we have no right to conclude that there was entailed so much greater suffering on this reptile as to distinguish it in misery from the rest of the animal creation. But undoubtedly it was the devil, more emphatically than the serpent, that God cursed for the seduction of man. The words, indeed, of our text have a primary appHcation to the serpent. It is most strictly true, that, ever since the fall, there has been enmity between man and the serpent. Every man will in- stinctively recoil at the sight of a ser- pent. We have a natural and unconquer- able aversion from this tribe of living things, which we feel not in respect to others, even fiercer and more noxious. Men, if they find a serpent, will always strive to destroy it, bruising the head m which the poison lies; whilst the serpent will often avenge itself, wounding its as- sailant, if not mortally, yet so as to make it time that it bruises his heel. But whilst the words have thus, un- doubtedly, a fulfilment in respect of the serpent, we cannot question that then- reference is chiefly to the devil. It was the devil, and not the serpent, which had beguiled the woman; and it is only in a very limited sense that it could be said to the serpent, "Because thou hast done this." We are indeed so unac- quainted with transactions m the world of spirits, that we cannot pretend to de- termine what, or whether any, immedi- % 10 THE FIRST PROPHECY. ate change passed on the condition of Satan and his associates. If the curse upon the serpent took effect upon the devil, it would seem probable, that, ever since the fall, the power of Satan has been specially limited to this earth and its inhabitants. We may gather from the dennuciation, "Upon thy belly shalt thou go, and dust shalt thou eat all the days of thy life," that, in place of being allowed, as he might before time have been, to range through the universe, machinating against the peace of many orders of intelligence, he was confined to the arena of humanity, and forced to concentrate his energies on the destruc- tion of a solitary race. It would seem altogether possiljle, that, after his eject- ment from heaven, Satan had liberty to traverse the vast area of creation ; and that far-off stars and planets were ac- cessible to his wanderings. It is to the full as possible, that, as soon as man apostatized, God confirmed in their al- legiance other orders of beings, and shielded them from the assaults of the evil one, by chaining him to the earth on which he had just won a victory. And if, as the result of his having se- duced our first parents, Satan were thus sentenced to confinement to this globe, we may readily understand how words, addressed to the serpent, dooming it to trail itself along the ground, had distinct reference to the tempter by whom that serpent had been actuated. But, whatever be our opinion concern- ing this part of the curse, there can be no doubt that our text must be explained of the devil, though, as we have shown you, it has a partial fulfilment in respect of the serpent. We must here consider God as speaking to the tempter, and announcing war between Satan and man. We have called the words a prophecy; and, when considered as ad- dressed to the devil, such is properly their designation. But when we re- member that they were spoken in the hearing of Adam and Eve, we must re- gard them also in the light of a promise. And it is well worth remark, that, be- fore God told the woman of her sorrow and her trouble, and before he told the man of the thorn, and the thistle, and the dust to which he should return, he caused them to hear words which must have inspired them with hope. Van- quished they were : and they might have thought that, with an undisputed su- premacy, he who had prevailed to their overthrow would ever after hold them in vassalage. Must it not then have been cheering to them, whilst they stood as criminals before their God, expecting the sentence which disobedience had provoked, to hear that their conqueror should not enjoy unassaulted his con- quest, but that there were yet unde- veloped arrangements which would en- sure to humanity final mastery over the oppressor'? And though, when God turned and spake to themselves, he gave no word of encouragement, but dwelt only on the toil and the death which they had wrought into their portion, still the prophecy to which they had listened must have sunk into their hearts as a promise; and when, with lingering steps, and thefirst tears ever wept, they departed from the glorious precincts of Eden, we may believe that one sustain- ed the other by whispering the words, though "thou shalt bruise his heel, it shall bruise thy head." There can be no doubt that intima- tions of redemption were given to our guilty parents, and that they were in- structed by God to offer sacrifices which should shadow out the method of atone- ment. And though it does not of course follow that we are in possession of all the notices mercifully afforded, it seems fair to conclude, as well from the time of delivery as from the nature of the an- nouncement, that our text was designed to convey comfort to the desponding; and that it was received as a message breathing deliverance by those who ex- pected an utter condemnation. We are not, however, much concerned with the degree in which the prophecy was at first understood. It cannot justly be called an obscure prophecy : for it is quite clear on the fact, that, by some means or another, man should gain ad- vantage over Satan. And though, if con- sidered as referring to Christ, there be a mystery about it, which could only be cleared up by after events, yet, as a general prediction of victory, it must have commended itself, we think, to the understanding and the heart of those of our race by whom it was first heard. But whether or no the prophecy were intelligible to Adam and Eve, unto our- selves it is a wonderful passage, spread- ing itself over the whole of time, and THE FIRST PROPHECY. 11 giving outlines of the history of this world from the beginning to the final consummation. We caution you at once against an idea which many have enter- tained, that the prediction before us re- fers only, or even chiefly, to the Re- deemer. We shall indeed find, as we proceed, that Christ, who was specially the seed of the woman, specially bruised the head of the serpent. But the pro- phecy is to be interpreted in a much larger sense. It is nothing less than a delineation of an unwearied conflict, of which this earth shall be the theatre, and which shall issue, though not with- out partial disaster to man, in the com- plete discomfiture ofSatan and his asso- ciates. And no man who is familiar with other predictions of Scripture, can fail to find, in this brief and soHtary verse, the announcement of those very strug- gles and conquests which occupy the gorgeous poetry of Isaiah, and crowd the mystic canvass of Daniel and St. John. We wish you, therefore, to dismiss, if you have ever entertained, contracted views of the meaning of our text. It must strike you at the first glance, that though Christ was in a pecuhar sense the s'eed of the woman, the phrase ap- plies to others as well as the Redeemer. We are therefore bound, by all fair laws of interpretation, to consider that the prophecy must be fulfilled in more than one individual ; especially as it declares that the woman, as well as her seed, should entertain the enmity, and thus marks out more than a single party as engaging in the conflict. _ ^ Now there are one or two prelimina- ry observations which require all your attention, if you hope to enter into the full meaning of the prediction. AVe wish you, first of all, to remark particularly the expression, " I will put enmity." The enmity, you obsei-ve, had no natural existence : God declares his intention of putting enmity. As soon as man transgressed, his nature be- came evil, and therefore he was at peace, and not at war with the devil. And thus, had there been no interference on the part of the Almighty, Satan and man would have formed alhance against hea- ven, and, in place of a contest between themselves, have carried on nothing but battle with God. There is not, and can- not be, a native enmity between fallen angels and fallen men. Both are evil, and both became evil through apostacy. But evil, wheresoever it exists, will al- ways league against good ; so that fallen angels and fallen men were sure to join in a desperate companionship. Hence the declaration, that enmity should be put, must have been to Satan the first notice of redemption. This lofty spirit must have calculated, that, if he could induce men, as he had induced angels, to join in rebellion, he should have them for allies in his every enterprise against heaven. There was nothing of enmity between himself and the spirits who had joined in the eff'ort to dethrone the Om- nipotent. At least whatever the feuds and jarrings which might disturb the rebels, they were linked, as with an iron band, in the one great object of opposing good. So that when he heard that there should be enmity between himself and the woman, he must have felt that some apparatus would be brought to bear upon man ; and that, though he had suc- ceeded in depraving human nature, and thus assimilating it to his own, it should be renewed by some mysterious process, and wrought up to the lost power of re- sisting its conqueror. And accordingly it has come to pass, that there is enmity on the earth be- tween man and Satan; but an enmity supematurally put, and not naturally entertained. Unless God pour his con- vertino- grace into the soul, there will be no attempt to oppose Satan, but we shall continue to the end of our days his wil- ling captives and servants. And there- fore it is God who puts the enmity. Introducing a new principle into the heart, he causes conflict where there had heretofore been peace, inclining and enabling man to rise against his t\Tant. So that, in these first words of the pro- phecy, you have the clearest intimation that God designed to visit the depraved nature with a renovating energy. And now, whensoever you see an individual delivered from the love, and endowed with a hatred of sin, resisting those pas- sions which held naturally sway within his breast, and thus ,gi-appling with the fallen spirit which claims dominion upon earth, you are surveying the workings of a principle which is wholly from above ; and you are to consider that you have before you the fulfilment of the declaration, "I will put enmity between thee and the woman." 1'2 THE FIRST PROPHECY. "We go on to observe that the enmity, "being thus a superhuman thing, implant- ed by God and not generated by man, will not subsist universally, but only in particular cases. You will have seen, from our foregoing showings, that a man must be renewed in order to his fighting with Satan; so that God's putting the enmity is God's giving saving grace. The prophecy cannot be interpreted as declaring that the whole human race should be at war with the devil: the undoubted matter-of-fact being that only a portion of the race resumes its loyalty to Jehovah. And we are bound, there- fore, before proceeding further with our interpretation, to examine whether this limitation is marked out by the predic- tion — whether, that is, we might infer, from the terms of the prophecy, that the placed enmity would be partial, not uni- versal. Now we think that the expression, " Thy seed and her seed," shows at once that the enmity would be felt by only a part of mankind. The enmity is to subsist, not merely between Satan and the woman, but between his seed and her seed. But the seed of Satan can only be interpreted of wicked men. Thus Christ said to the Jews, "Ye are of your father the devil ; and the lusts of your father ye will do." John, 8 : 44. Thus also, in expounding the parable of the tares and the wheat, he said, " The tares are the children of the wicked one." Matt. 13 : 38. There is, probably, the same reference in the expression, "O generation of vipers." And, in like man- ner, you find St. John declaring, "He that committeth sin is of the devil." 1 John, 3 : 8. Thus, then, by the seed of Satan we understand wicked men, those who resist God's Spirit, and obstinately adhere to the sei-vice of the devil. And if we must interpret the seed of Satan of a portion of mankind, it is evident that the prophecy marks not out the en- mity as general, but indicates just that limitation which has been supposed in our preceding remarks. But then the question occurs, how are we to interpret the woman and her seed 1 Such expression seems to denote the whole human race. What right have we to limit it to a pait of that race ] We reply, that it certainly does not denote the whole human race : for if you inter- pret it literally of Eve and her descend- ants, Adam, at least, is left out, who was neither the woman nor her seed. But without insisting on the objection under this form, fatal as it is to the pro- posed interpretation, we should not be warranted, though we have no distinct account of the faith and repentance of Adam, in so explaining a passage as to exclude our common forefather from * final salvation. You must see, that, if we take literally the woman and her seed, no enmity was put between Adam and Satan; for Adam was neither the woman nor the seed of the woman. And if Adam continued in friendship with Satan, it must be certain that he perished in his sins : a conclusion to which we dare not advance without scriptural testimony the most clear and explicit. We cannot, then, understand the wo- man and her seed, as Eve and her natu- ral descendants. We must rather be- lieve, that as the seed of the serpent is to be interpreted spiritually and sym- bolically, so also is the seed of the wo- man. And when you remember that Eve was a signal type of the church, there is an end of the difficulties by which we seem met. You know, from the statement of St. Paul to the Romans, that Adam was the figure of Christ. Rom, 5:14. Now it was his standing to Eve in the very same relationship in which Christ stands to the church,which special- ly made Adam the figure of Christ. The side of Adam had been opened, when a deep sleep fell on him, in order that Eve might be formed, an extract from him- self. And thus, as Hooker saith, " God frameth the church out of the very flesh, the very wounded and bleeding side of the Son of Man. His body crucified, and his blood shed for the life of the world, are the ti'ue elements of that hea- venly being which maketh us such as himself is, of whom we come. For which cause the words of Adam may be fitly the words of Christ concerning his church, ' Flesh of my flesh, and bone of my bones.' " We cannot go at length into the particulars of the typical resem- blance between Eve and the church. It is sufficient to observe, that since Adam, the husband of Eve, was the figure of Christ, and since Christ is the husband of the church, it seems naturally to fol- low that Eve was the figure or type of the church. And when we have estab- THE FIRST PROPHECY. IZ lished this typical character of Eve, it is easy to understand who are meant by the woman and her seed. The true church of God in every age — whether you con- sider it as represented by its head, which is Christ ; whether you survey it collec- tively as a body, or resolve it into its separate members — this true church of God must be regarded as denoted by the woman and her seed. And though you may think — for we wish, as we proceed, to anticipate objections — that, if Eve be the church, it is strange that her seed should be also the church, yet it is the common usage of Scripture to represent the church as the mother, and every new convert as a child. Thus, in addressing the Jewdsh church, and describing her glory and her greatness in the latter days, Isaiah saith, " Thy sons shall come from far, and thy daughters shall be nursed at thy side." And again — con- trasting the Jewish and Gentile churches — " More are the children of the deso- late than the children of the married wife, saith the Lord." So that although the church can be nothing more than the aggregate of individual believers, the in- spired writers commonly describe the church as a parent, and believers as the offspring; and in understanding, there- fore, the church and its members by the woman and her seed, we cannot be ad- vocating a forced interpretation. And now we have made a long ad- vance towards the thorough elucidation of the prophecy. We have shoviTi you, that, inasmuch as the enmity is super- naturally put, it can only exist in a por- tion of mankind. We then endeavored to ascertain this portion : and we found that the true church of God, in every age, comprehends all those who war with Satan and his seed. So that the representation of the prediction — a re- presentation whose justice we have yet to examine — is simply that of a perpetu- al conflict, on this earth, between wicked angels and wicked men on the one side, and the church of God, or the company of true believers on the other; such con- flict, though occasioning partial injury to the church, always issuing in the dis- comfiture of the wicked. We now set ourselves to demonstrate the accuracy of this representation. We have already said that there are three points of view in which the church may be regarded. We may consider it, as represented by its head, which is Christ; secondly, collectively as a body ; thirdly, as resolved into its separate members. We shall endeavor to show you briefly, in each of these cases, the fidelity of the description, " It shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel." Now the enmity was never put in such overpowering measure, as when the man Christ Jesus was its residence. It was in Christ Jesus in one sense naturally, and in another supematurally. He was bom pure, and with a native hati'ed of sin; but then he had been miraculously generated, in order that his nature might be thus hostile to evil. And never did there move the being on this earth who hated sin with as perfect a hatred, or who was as odious in return to all the emissaries of darkness. It was just the holiness of the Mediator which stirred up against him all the passions of a pro- fligate world, and provoked that fury of assault which rushed in from the hosts of reprobate spirits. There was thrown a perpetual reproach on a proud and sensual generation, by the spotlessness of that righteous individual, " who did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth." 1 Pet. 2 : 22. And if he had not been so far separated, by the purities of life and conversation, from all others of his nature ; or if vice had received a somewhat less tremendous rebuke from the blamelessness of his every action; we may be sure that his might and be- nevolence would have gathered the na- tion to his discipleship, and that the multitude would never have been work- ed up to demand his crucifixion. The great secret of the opposition to Christ lay in the fact, that he was not such an one as ourselves. We are ac- customed to think that the lowliness of his condition, and the want of external majesty and pomp, moved the Jews to reject their Messiah: yet it is by no means clear that these were, in the main, the producing causes of rejection. If Christ came not with the purple and cir- cumstance of human sovereignty, he dis- played the possession of a supernatural power, which, even on the most carnal calculation, was more valuable, because more effective, than the stanchest appa- ratus of earthly supremacy. The pea- sant, who could work the miracles which Christ worked, would be admitted, on all hands, to have mightier engines at his 14 THE FIRST PROPHECY. disposal than the prince who is clothed with the ermine and followed by the war- riors. And if the Jews looked for a Mes- siah who would lead them to mastery over enemies, then, we contend, there was every thing in Christ to induce them to give him their allegiance. The power which could vanquish death by a word might cause hosts to fall, as fell the hosts of Sennacherib; and where then was the foe who could have resisted the leader ] We cannot, therefore, think that it was merely the absence of human pa- geantry which moved the gi-eat ones of Judea to throw scorn upon Jesus. It is true, they were expecting an earthly de- liverer. But Christ displayed precisely those powers, which wielded by Moses, had prevailed to deliver their nation from Egypt; and assuredly then, if that strength dwelt in Jesus which had dis- comfited Pharaoh, and broken the thral- dom of centuries, it could not have been the proved incapacity of effecting tempo- ral deliverance which induced pharisees and scribes to reject their Messiah. They could have tolerated the meanness of his parentage ; for that was more than com- pensated by the majesty of his power. They could have endured the lowliness of his appearance ; for they could set against it his evident communion with divinity. But the righteous fervor with which Christ denounced every abomination in the land; the untainted purity by which he shamed the " whited sepulchres" who deceived the people by the appearance of sanctity; the rich loveliness of a cha- racter in which zeal for God's glory was i unceasingly uppermost ; the beautiful | lustre which encompassed a being who | could hate only one thing, but that one thing sin ; these were the producino- causes of bitter hostility ; and they who would have hailed the wonder-worker with the shout and the plaudit, had he allowed some license to the evil passions of our nature, gave him nothing but the sneer and the execration, when he waged open war with lust and hypocrisy. And thus it was that enmity, the fierc- est and most inveterate,was put between the seed of the woman and the seed of the serpent. The serpent himself came to the assistance of his seed; evil ano-els conspired with evil men ; and the whole energies of apostacy gathered themselves to the effort of destroying the champi- on of God and of truth. Yea, and for a while success seemed to attend the en- deavor. There was a bruising of the heel of the seed of the woman. "He came unto his own, and his own received him not." John, 1 : 11. Charged only with an embassage of mercy; sent by the Father — ^not to condemn the world, though rebellion had overspread its pro- vinces, and there was done the foulest despite to God, in its every section, and by its every tenant — but that the world through him might have life ; he was, nevertheless, scorned as a deceiver, and hunted down as a malefactor. And if it were a bruising of the heel, that he should be " a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief," Isaiah, 53: 3; that a nation should despise him, and friends deny and forsake and betray him ; that he should be bufleted with temptation, convulsed by agony, lacerated by stripes, pierced by nails, crowned with thorns ; then was the heel of the Redeemer bruised by Satan, for to all this injury the fallen angel instigated and nerved his seed. But though the heel was bruised, this was the whole extent of effected damage. There was no real advantage gained over the Mediator : on the contrary, whilst Sa- tan was in the act of bruising Christ's heel, Christ was in the act of bruising Satan's head. The Savior, indeed, ex- posed himself to every kind of insult and wrong. Whilst enduring " the contradic- tion of sinners against himself," Heb. 12 : 3, it is not to be denied that a strange re- sult was brought round by the machina- tions of the evil ones; forsuffering,which is the attendant on sinfulness, was made to empty all its pangs into the bosom of innocence. And seeing that his holiness should have exempted his humanity from all kinsmanship with sorrow and an- guish, we are free to allow that the heel was bruised, when pain found entrance into this humanity, and grief, heavier than had oppi-essed any being of our race, weighed down his over-wrought spirit. But, then, there was not an iota of his sufferings which went not towards liqui- dating the vast debt which man owed to God, and which, therefore, contributed not to our redemption from bondage. There was not a pang by which the Me- diator was torn, and not a grief by which his soul was disquieted, which helped not on the achievement of human deliv- erance, and which, therefore, dealt not out a blow to the despotism of Satan. THE FIKST PROPHECY. 16 So that, from the beginning, the bruising of Christ's heel was the bruising of Sa- tan's head. In prevaiUng, so far as he did prevail, against Christ, Satan was only eftecting his own discomfiture and downfall. He touched the heel, he could not touch the head of the Mediator. II he could have seduced him into the com- mission of evil ; if he could have pro- faned, by a sohtary thought, the sanctu- ary of his soul ; then it would have been the head which he had bruised; and rising triumphant over man's surety, he would have shouted, "Victory!" and this creation have become for ever his own. But whilst he could only cause pain, and not pollution ; whilst he could dislocate by agony, but not defile by im- purity; he reached indeed the heel, but came not near the head; and, making the Savior's hfe-time one dark series of afflictions, weakened, at every step, his CAT! hold upon humanity. And when, at last, he so bruised the heel as to nail Christ to the cross, amid the loathings and revilings of the multi- tude, then it was that his own head was bruised, even to the being crushed. " Through death," we are told, " Christ Jesus destroyed him that had the power of death, that is, the devil." Heb, 2:14. He fell indeed ; and evil angels, and evil men, might have thought him for ever de- feated. But in gi-asping this mighty prey, death paralyzed itself; in breaking down the temple, Satan demolished his own throne. It was, as ye all know, by dy- ing, that Christ finished the achievement which, from all eternity, he had cove- nanted to undertake. By dying, he rein- stated fallen man in the position from which he had been hurled. Death came against the Mediator; but, in submit- ting to it, Christ, if we may use such image, seized on the destroyer, and, waving the skeleton-form as a sceptre over this creation, broke the spell of a thousand generations, dashing away the chains, and opening the graves, of an oppressed and rifled population. And when he had died, and descended into the grave, and returned without seeing corruption, then was it made possible that eveiy child of Adam might be eman- cipated from the dominion of evil; and, in place of the wo and the shame which transgression had won as the heritage of man, there was the beautiful brightness of a purchased immortahty wooing the acceptance of the sons and daughters of our race. The strong man armed had kept his goods in peace; and Satan, having seduced men to be his compan- ions in rebellion, might have felt secure of having them as his companions in tor- ment. But the stronger than he drew nigh, and, measuring weapons with him in the garden and on the cross, received wounds which were but trophies of vic- tory, and dealt wounds which annihilated power. And when, bruised indeed, yet only marked with honorable scars which told out his triumph to the loftiest orders of intelligent being, the Redeemer of mankind soared on high, and sent pro- clamation through the universe, that death was abolished, and the ruined re- deemed, and the gates of heaven thrown open to the rebel and the outcast, was there not an accomplishment, the most literal and the most energetic, of that prediction which declared to Satan con- cerning the seed of the woman, " it shall bruisethy head, and thou shalt bruise his i^eeir' Such is the first and great fulfilment of the prophecy. The church, repre- sented by its head who was specially the seed of the woman, overthrew the devil in one decisive and desperate strug- gle, and, though not itself unwounded, received no blow which rebounded not to the crushing its opponent. We proceed, secondly, to consider the church collectively as a body. We need scarcely observe that, from the first, the rio-hteous amongst men have been ob- jects of the combined assault of their evil fellows and evil angels. The enmity has been put, and strikingly developed. On the one hand, it has been the endea- vor of the church to vindicate God's honor, and an-est the workings of wick- edness : on the other, it has been the ef- fort of the serpent and his seed to sweep from the earth these upholders of piety. And though the promise has all along been verified, that the gates of hell shall not prevail against the church, it cannot be denied that a great measure of suc- cess has attended the strivings of the ad- versary. If you only call to mind what fierce persecution has rushed against the righteous ; how by one eiigine or anoth- er there has been, oftentimes, almost a thorough extinction of the very name of Christianity ; and how, when outward- ly there has been peace, tares, sown by 16 THE FIRST PROPHECY. the enemy, have sent up a harvest of perilous heresies; you cannot withhold your acknowledgment that Satan has bruised the heel of the church. But he has done nothing more. If he have hewn down thousands by the sword, and con- sumed thousands at the stake, thousands have sprung forward to fill up the breach ; and if he have succeeded in pouring forth a flood of pestilential doctrine, there have arisen stanch advocates of truth who have stemmed the torrent, and snatched the articles of faith, uninjured, from the deluge. There has never been the time when God has been left with- out a witness upon earth. And though, the church has often been sickly and weak; though the best blood has been drained from her veins, and a languor, like that of moral palsy, has settled on her limbs; still life hath never been wholly extinguished ; but, after a while, the sinking energies have been marvel- lously reci-uited, and the worn and wast- ed body has risen up more athletic than before, and displayed to the nations all the vigor of renovated youth. So that only the heel has been bruised. And since, up to the second advent of the Lord, the church shall be battered with heresy, and persecution, and infi- delity, we look not, under the present dispensation, for discontinuance of this bruising of the heel. Yet, while Satan is bruising the church's heel, the church, by God's help, is bruising Satan's head. The church may be compelled to pro- phesy in sackcloth. Affliction may be her portion, as if was that of her glorified head. But the church is, throughout, God's witness upon earth. The church is God's instrument for carrying on those purposes which shall terminate in the final setting up of the Mediator's king- dom. And, oh, there is not won over a single soul to Christ, and the Gospel message makes not its way to a single heart, without an attendant effect as of a stamping on the head of the tempter : for a captive is delivered from the op- pressor, and to deliver the slave is to defeat the tyrant. Thus the seed of the woman is continually bruising the head of the serpent. And whensoever the church, as an engine in God's hands, makes a successful stand for piety and truth ; whensoever, sending out her mis- sionaries to the broad waste of heathen- ism, she demolishes an altar of supersti- tion, and teaches the pagan to cast his idols to the mole and the bat ; or when- soevei-, assaulting mere nominal Chris- tianity, she fastens men to practice as the alone test of profession; then does she strike a blow which is felt at the very centre of the kingdom of darkness, and then is she experiencing a partial fulfil- ment of the promise, " God shall bruise Satan under your feet shortly." Rom. 16: 20. And when the fierce and on-going con- flict shall be brought to a close; when this burdened creation shall have shaken off the slaves and the objects of concu- piscence, and the church of the living God shall reign, with its head, over the tribes and provinces of an evangelized earth; then in the completeness of the triumph of righteousness shall be the completeness of the serpent's discomfi- ture. And as the angel and the archan- gel contrast the slight injury which Sa- tan could ever cause to the church, with that overwhelming ruin which the church has, at last, hurled down upon Satan; as they compare the brief struggle and the everlasting glory of the one, with the shadowy success and the never-ending torments of the other; will they not de- cide, and tell out their decision in lan- guage of rapture and admiration, that, if ever prediction were fulfilled to the very letter, it is that which, addressed to the serpent, and describing the church as the seed of the woman, declared, "it shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel?" Such is the second fulfilment of the prophecy of our text. The church, con- sidered collectively as a body, is so as- saulted by the serpent and his seed that its heel is bruised : but even now it of- fers such resistance to evil, and hereafter it shall triumph so signally over every opponent, that the prediction, " it shall bruise thy head," must be received as destined to a literal accomplishment. We have yet to notice the third fulfil- ment. We may resolve the church into its separate members, and, taking each individual believer as the seed of the woman, show you how our text is real- ized in his experience. Now if there be enmity between the serpent and the church generally, of course there is also between the serpent and each member of that church. We have already given it as the description THE FIRST PROPHECT. 17 of a converted man, that he has been su- pernaturally excited to a war with the devil. Whilst left in the darkness and alienation of nature, he submits willing- ly to the dominion of evil : evil is his ele- ment, and he neither strives nor wishes for emancipation. But when the grace of God is introduced into his heart, he will discern quickly the danger and hate- fiilness of sin, and will yield himself, in a higher strength than his own, to the work of resisting the serpent. Thus en- mity is put between the believer and the serpent and his seed. Let a man give himself to the concerns of eternity; let him, in good earnest, set about the business of the soul's salvation ; and he will, assuredly, draw upon himself the dislike and opposition of a whole circle of worldly acquaintance, so that his over- preciseness and austerity will become •subject of ridicule in his village or neigh- borhood. We quite mistake the nature both of Christianity and of man, if we suppose that opposition to religion can be limited to an age or a country. Per- secution, in its most tenible forms, is only the development of a principle which must unavoidably exist until either Christianity or human nature be altered. There is a necessary repugnance be- tween Christianity and human nature. The two cannot be amalgamated : one must be changed before it will combine with the other. And we fear that this is, in a degree, an overlooked truth, and that men are disposed to assign persecu- tion to local or temporary causes. But we wish you to be clear on the fact, that "the offence of the cross," Gal. 5: 11, has not ceased, and cannot cease. We readily allow that the form, under which the hatred manifests itself, will be sensi- bly affected by the civilization and intel- ligence of the age. In days of an imper- fect refinement and a scanty literature, you will find this hatred unsheathing the sword, and lighting the pile : but v\'hen human society is at a high point of po- lish and knowledge, and the principles of religious toleration are well understood, there is, perhaps, comparatively, small likelihood that savage violence will be the engine employed against godliness. Yet there are a hundred batteries which may and will be opened upon the righ- teous. The follower of Christ must cal- culate on many sneers, and much revil- ing. He must look to meet often with coldness and contempt, harder of endu- rance than many forms of martyrdom; for the courage which could march to the stake may be daunted by a laugh. And, frequently, the opposition assumes a more decided shape. The parent will act harshly towards the child; the superior withdraw his countenance from the de- pendent; and all because of a giving heed to the directions of Scripture. Re- ligion, as though it were rebellion, alien- ates the affections, and alters the wills, of fathers and guardians. So that we tell an individual that he blinds himself to plain matters of fact, if he espouse the opinion that the apostle's words applied only to the first ages of Christianity, " all that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution." 2 Tim. 3 : 12. To "live godly in Christ Jesus" is to have enmity put between yourselves and the seed of the serpent ; and you may be as- sured, that, unless this enmity be merely nominal on your side, it will manifest it- self by acts on the other. Thus the prophecy of our text an- nounces, what has been verified by the history of all ages, that no man can serve God without uniting against himself evil men and evil angels. Evil angels will assault him, alarmed that their prey is escaping from their grasp. Evil men, rebuked by his example, will become agents of the sA^ent, and strive to wrench him from his righteousness. But what, after all, is the amount of injury which the serpent and his seed can cause to God's children ] Is it not a truth, which can only then be denied when you have cashiered the authority of every page of the Bible, that he who believes upon Christ, and who, therefore, has been adopted through faith into God's family, is certain to be made more than conqueror, and to trample under foot every enemy of salvation 1 The conflict between a believer and his foes may be long and painful. The Christian may be often forced to exclaim with St. Paul, "O wretched man that I am. who shall deliver me from the body of this death 1 " Rom. 7 : 24. Engaged with the triple band of the world, the flesh, and the de- vil, he will experience many partial de- feats, and surprised off" his guard, or wearied out with watchings, wall yield to temptation, and so fall into sin. But it is certain, certain as that God is om- nipotent and faithful, that the once justi- 18 THE FIRST PROPHECir. fied man shall be enabled to persevere to the end ; to persevere, not in an idle de- pendence on privileges, but in a struggle Vi^hich, if for an instant interrupted, is sure to be vehemently renewed. And, therefore, the bruising of the heel is the sum total of the mischief. Thus much, undoubtedly, the serpent can effect. He can harass with temptation, and occa- sionally prevail. But he cannot undo the radical work of conversion. He cannot eject the principle of gi-ace; and he can- not, therefore, bring back the man into the condition of his slave or his subject. Thus he cannot wound the head of the new man. He may diminish his com- forts. He may impede his growth in ho- liness. He may inject doubts and sus- picions, and thus keep him disquieted, when, if he would live up to his privi- leges, he might rejoice and be peaceful. But all this — and we show you here the full sweep of the serpent's power — still leaves the man a believer; and, there- fore, all this, though it bruise the heel, touches not the head. And though the believer, like the un- believer, must submit to the power of death, and tread the dark valley of that curse which still rests on our nature, is there experienced more than a bruising of the heel in the undergoing this disso- lution of humanity 1 It is an injury — for we go not with those #ho would idolize, or soften down, death — that the soul must be detached from the body, and sent out, a widowed thing, on the broad journeyings of eternity. It is an injury, that this curious framework of matter, as much redeemed by Christ as the giant- guest which it encases, must be taken down, joint by joint, and rafter by rafter, and, resolved into its original elements, lose every trace of having been human. But what, we again say, is the extent of this injury] The foot of the destroyer shall be set upon the body ; and he shall stamp till he have ground it into powder, and dispersed it to the winds. But he cannot annihilate a lonely particle. He can put no arrest on that germinating process which shall yet cause the valleys and mountains of this globe to stand thick with a harvest of flesh. He cannot hinder my resurrection. And when the soul, over which he hath had no power, rushes into the body which he shall be forced to resign, and the child of God stands forth a man, yet immortal, com- pound of flesh and spirit, but each pure, each indestructible; — oh, though Satan may have battered at his peace during a long earthly pilgrimage; though he may have marred his happiness by successful temptation ; though he may have detain- ed for centuries his body in corruption; will not the inflicted injury appear to have been so trivial and insignificant, that a bruising of the heel, in place of falling short of the mattei"-of-fact, shall itself seem almost an overwrought description] And, all the while, though Satan can only bruise the believer's heel, the be- liever is bruising Satan's head. If the believer be one who fights the serpent, and finally conquers, by that final con- quest the serpent's head is bruised. If he be naturally the slave of the serpent; if he rebel against the tyrant, throw off his chains, and vanquish him, fighting inch by inch the ground to freedom and . glory; then he bruises the serpent's head. If two beings are antagonists, he who decisively overcomes bruises the head of his opponent. But the believer and the serpent are antagonists. The believer gains completely the mastery over the serpent. And, therefore, the result of the contest is the fulfilment of the prediction that the seed of the wo- man shall bruise the head of the serpent. Oh, if, as we well know, the repentance of a single sinner send a new and exqui- site delight down the ranks of the hosts of heaven, and cause the sweeping of a rich and glorious anthem from the count- less harps of the sky, can we doubt that the same event spreads consternation through the legions of fallen spirits, and strikes, like a death-blow, on their haughty and malignant leader] Ay, and we believe that never is Satan so taught his subjugated estate, as when a soul, which he had counted as his own, escapes " as a bird out of the snare of the fowlers," Psalm 124: 7, and seeks and finds protection in Jesus. If it be then that Christ sees " of the travail of his soul," Isaiah, 53 : 11, it must be then that the serpent tastes all the bitterness of defeat. And when the warfare is over, and the spirit, which he hath longed to destroy, soars away, convoyed by the angels which wait on the heirs of salva- tion, must it not be then that the con- sciousness of lost mastery seizes, with crushing force, on the proud foe of our race; anl does not that fierce cry of THE FIRST PROPHECY. 19 disappointment which seems to follow the ascending soul, causing her to feel herself only "scarcely saved," 1 Pet. 4 : 18, testify that, in thus winning a heritage of glory, the believer hath bruised the head of the serpent"? We shall not examine further this third fulfilment of the prophecy of our text. But we think that when you con- trast the slight injury which Satan, at the worst, can cause to a believer, with the mighty blow which the deliverance of a believer deals out to Satan; the nothingness, at last, of the harm done to God's people, with that fearful dis- comfiture which their individual rescue fastens on the devil; you will confess, that, considering the church as resolved into its separate members, just as when you survey it collectively as a body, or as represented by its head, there is a literal accomplishment of this predic- tion to the serpent concerning the seed of the woman, "it shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel." We have thus, as we trust, shown you that the prophecy of our text extends itself over the whole surface of time, so that, from the fall of Adam, it has been receiving accomplishment, and will con- tinue being fulfilled until "death and hell are cast into the lake of fire." Rev. 20 : 14. It was a wonderful announce- ment, and, if even but imperfectly un- derstood, must have confounded the serpent, and cheered Adam and Eve. Dust shalt thou eat, foe of humankind, when this long oppressed creation is delivered from thy despotism. As though to mark to us that there shall be no suspension of the doom of our destroyer, whilst this earth rejoices in the restitution of all things, Isaiah, in de- scribing millennial harmony, still leaves the serpent under the sentence of our text. " The wolf and the lamb shall feed together; and the lion shall eat straw like the bullock ; and dust shall he the serpent's meat.'' Isaiah, 65 : 25. There comes a day of deliverance to every other creature, but none to the serpent. Oh, mysterious dealing of our God! that for fallen angels there hath been no atonement, for fallen men a full, perfect, and sufficient. They Avere far nobler than we, of a loftier intelligence and more splendid endowment; yet (" how unsearchable are his judg- ments") we are taken and they are left. "For verily he taketh not hold of angels, but of the seed of Abraham he taketh hold." Hebrews, 2 : 16, margi- nal reading. And shall we, thus singled out and made objects of marvellous mercy, re- fuse to be delivered, and take our por- tion with those who are both fallen and unredeemed 1 Shall we eat the dust, when we may eat of " the bread which comet hdown from heaven % " John, 6 : 50. Covetous man ! thy money is the dust; thou art eating the serpent's meat. Sensual man ! thy gratifications are of the dust ; thou art eating the serpent's meat. Ambitious man! thine honors are of the dust ; thou art eating the serpent's meat. O God, put enmity between us and the serpent. Will ye, every one of you, use that short prayer ere ye lie down to rest this night, O God, put enmity between us and the serpent 1 If ye are not at enmity, his folds are round your limbs. If ye are not at enmity, his sting is at your heart. But if ye will, henceforward, count him a foe, oppose him in God's strength, and attack him with the "sword of the Spirit;" Eph. 6 : 17; then, though ye may have your seasons of disaster and depression, the promise stands sure that ye shall finally overcome; and it shall be proved by each one in this assembly, that, though the serpent may bruise the heel of the seed of the woman, yet, at last, the seed of the woman always bruises the head of the serpent. SERMON II. CHRIST THE MINISTER OF THE CHURCH. " A minister of the sanctuary, and of the true tabernacle which the Lord pitched, and not man. — Hebrews vii : 15. The discourse of the Apostle here turns on Jesus, the high priest of our profession, whose superiority to Aaron and his descendants he had established by most powerful reasoning. In the verse preceding our text he takes a summary of the results of his argu- ment, deciding that we have such an high priest as became us, and who had passed from the scene of earthly minis- trations to "the throne of the majesty in the heavens." He then, in the words upon which we are to meditate, gives a description of this high priest as at pre- sent discharging sacerdotal functions. He calls him " a minister of the sanc- tuary, or (according to the marginal reading) of holy things, and of the true tabernacle which the Lord pitched, and not man." We think it needful, if we would enter into the meaning of this passage, that we confine it to what Christ is, and attempt not to extend it to what Christ was. If you examine the verses which follow, you will be quite satisfied that St. Paul had in view those portions of the mediatorial work which are yet being executed, and not those which were completed upon earth. He expressly declares that if the Redeem- er were yet resident amongst men, he would not be invested with the priestly office — thus intimating, and that not ob- scurely, that the priesthood now enact- ed in heaven was that on which he wish- ed to centre attention. We know indeed that parts of the priestly office, most stupendous and most important, were discharged by Jesus whilst sojourning on earth. Then it was that, uniting mysteriously in his person the offerer and the victim, he presented himself, a whole burnt sacri- fice, to God, and took away, by his one oblation, the sin of an overburdened world. But if you attend closely to the reasoning of St. Paul, you will observe that he considers Christ's oblation of himself as a preparation for the priestly office, rather than as an act of that oiP fice. He argues, in the third verse, that since " every high priest is ordained to offer gifts and sacrifices," there was a "necessity that this man have some- what also to offer." And by then speak- ing of Christ's having obtained " a more excellent ministry," he plainly implies that what he offers as high priest is of- fered in heaven, and must, therefore, have been rather procured, than pre- sented, by the sacrifice of himself We are anxious that you should clear- ly perceive — as we are sure you must from the study of the context — that Christ in heaven, and not Christ on earth, is sketched out by the words which we are now to examine. The right interpretation of the description will depend greatly on our ascertaining the scene of ministrations. And we shall not hesitate, throughout the whole of our discourse, to consider the apos- tle as referring to what Christ now per- forms on our behalf; taking no other account of what he did in his humilia- tion than as it stands associated with what he does in his exaltation. You will observe, at once, that the difficulty of our text lies in the asser- tion, that Christ is " a minister of the true tabernacle, which the Lord pitched, and not man." Our main business, as CHRIST THE MINISTER OP THE CHURCH. 21 expounders of Scripture, is with the de- termining what this "true tabernacle" is. For, though we think it ascertain- ed that heaven is the scene of Christ's priestly ministrations, this does not de- fine what the tabernacle is wherein he ministers. Now there can be but little question, that, in another passage of this Epistle to the Hebrews, the humanity of the Son of God is described as " a taberna- cle, not made with hands." The verse occurs in the ninth chapter, in which St. Paul shows the temporary character of the Jewish tabernacle, every thing about it having been simply " a figure for the time then present." Advancing to the contrast of what was enduring with what was transient, he declares that Christ had come, " an high priest of good things to come, by a greater and more perfect tabernacle, not made with hands, that is to say, not of this building." Heb. 9 : 11. It scarcely ad- mits of debate that the body of the Re- deemer, produced as it was by a super- natural operation, constituted this ta- l^ernacle in which he came down to earth. And we are rightly anxious to uphold this, which seems the legitimate interpretation, because heretics, who v/ould bring down the Savior to a level with ourselves, find the greatest diffi- (;alty in getting rid of this miraculous conception, and are most perplexed by any passage which speaks of Christ as superhumanly generated. It is a com- mon taunt with the Socinian, that the apostles seem to have known nothing of this miraculous conception, and that a truth of such importance, if well as- certained, would not have been omitted in their discussions with unbelievers. We might, if it consisted with our sub- ject, advance many reasons to prove it most improbable, that, either in argu- ing with gainsayers, or in building up believers, the first preachers of Chris- tianity would make frequent use of the mystery of Christ's generation. But, at all events, we contend that one de- cisive mention is of the same worth as many, and that a single instance of apostolic recognition of the fact, suffi- ces for the overthrow of the heretical objection. And, therefore, we would battle strenuously for the interpreta- tion of the passage to which we have refen-ed, defining the humanity of the Savior, as a " Tabernacle not made v^dth hands, that is to say, not of this build- ing." And if, without any overstrain- ing of the text, it should appear that " the true tabernacle," whereof Christ is the minister, may also be expounded of his spotless humanity, we should gladly adopt the interpretation as sus- taining us in our contest with impugn- ers of his divinity. There is, at first sight, so much re- semblance between the passages, that we are naturally inclined to claim for them a sameness of meaning. In the one, the tabernacle is described as that " which the Lord pitched and not man ;" in the other, as " not made with hands," that is to say, " not of this building," It is scarcely possible that the coinci- dence could be more literal; and the inference seems obvious, that, the latter tabernacle being Christ's humanity, so also must be the foiTner. Yet a little reflection will suggest that, however correct the expression, that Christ's humanity was the tabernacle by, or in, which he came, there would be much of harshness in the figure, that this hu- manity is the tabernacle of which he is the minister. Without doubt, it is in his human nature that the Son of God officiates above. He carried up into glory the vehicle of his sufferings, and made it partaker of his triumphs. And our grand comfort in the priesthood of Jesus results from the fact that he min- isters as a man; nothing else affording ground of assurance that " we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities." Heb. 4 : 15. But whilst certain, and re- joicing in the certainty, that our inter- cessor pleads in the humanity, which, undefiled by either actual or original sin, qualified him to receive the out- pourings of wrath, we could not, with any accuracy, say that he is the minis- ter of this humanity. It is clear that such expression must define, in some way, the place of ministration. And since humanity was essential to the constitution of Christ's person, we see not how it could be the temple of which he was appointed the minister. At least we must allow, that, in interpreting our text of the human nature of the Son of God, we should lie open to the charge of advocating an unnatural meaning, and of being so bent on upholding a 22 CHRIST THE MINISTER OP THE CHURCH. favorite hypothesis, as not to be over- scrupulous as to means of support. We dismiss, therefore, as untenable, the opinion which our wishes would have led us to espouse, and must seek elsewhere than in the humanity of Christ, for " the true tabernacle which the Lord pitched, and not man." The most correct and simple idea appears to be, that, inasmuch as Christ is the hierh priest of all who believe upon his name, and inasmuch as believers make up his church, the whole company of the faith- ful constitute that tabernacle of which he is here asseited the minister. If we adopt this interpretation, we may trace a fitness and accuracy of expression which can scarcely fail to assure us of its justice. The Jewish tabernacle, un- questionably typical of the christian church, consisted of the outer part and the inner ; the one open to the minis- trations of inferior priests, the other to those of the high priest alone. Thus the church, always one body, whatever the dispersion of its members, is partly upon earth where Christ's ambassadors officiate, partly in heaven where Christ himself is present. St. Paul, referring to this church as a household, describes Christ Jesus as him " of whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named; " Eph. 3 : 15 ; intimating that it was no interference with the unity of this family, that some of its mem- bers resided above, whilst others re- mained, as warriors and sufferers, be- low. So that, in considering Christ's church as the tabernacle with its holy place, and its holy of holies — the first on earth, the second in heaven — we ad- here most rigidly to the type, and, at the same time, preserve harmony with other representations of Scripture. And when you remember that Christ is continually described as dwelling in his people, and that believers are repre- sented as " builded together for an habi- tation of God through the Spirit," Eph. 2 : 22, there will seem to be none of that objection against this interpreta- tion which we felt constrained to urge against the former. If it be common to represent believers, whether singly or collectively, as the temple of God ; and if, at the same time, Christ Jesus, as the high priest of our profession, pre- side at the altar, and hold the censor of this temple; then we suppose nothing far-fetched, we only keep up the image- ry of Scripture, when we take the church as that " true tabernacle " whereof the Redeemer is the minister. And when we yet further call to mind that to God alone is the conversion of man ascribed throughout Scripture, we see, at once, the truth of the account given of this tabernacle, that the Lord pitched it and not man. Man reared the Jewish tabernacle, and man builded the Jewish temple. But the spiritual sanctuary, of which these were but types and figures, could be constructed by no human architect. A finite power is inadequate to the fashioning and col- lecting living stones, and to the weav- ing the drapery of self-denial and obe- dience. We refer, undividedly, to Dei- ty the construction of this true taber- nacle, the church. Had there been no mediatorial interference, the spiritual temple could never have been erected. In the work and person of Christ were laid the foundation of this temple. " Behold, saith God, I lay in Zion for a foundation a stone, a tried stone." Isa. 28 : 16. And on the stone thus laid there would have arisen no superstruc- ture, had not the finished work of re- demption been savingly applied, by God's Spirit, to man's conscience. Though redeemed, not a solitary indi- vidual would go on to be saved, unles8 God recreated him after his own like- ness. So that, whatever the breadth which we give to the expression, it must hold good of Christ's church, that the Lord pitched it and not man. And it is not more true of Christ's humanity, mysteriously and supernaturally pro- duced, that it was a tabernacle which Deity reared, than of the company of believers, bom again of the Spirit and renewed after God's image, that they constitute a sanctuary which shows a nobler than mortal workmanship. Now, upon the grounds thus briefly adduced, we shall consider, through the remainder of our discourse, that " the true tabernacle," whereof Christ is the minister, denotes the whole church, whether in earth or heaven, of the re- deemed, made one by union, through faith, with the Redeemer. But before considering, at greater length, the senses in which Christ is the minister of this tabernacle, we would remark on his being styled " Minister," and not uHRIST THE MINISTER OP THK CHURCH. 23 "High Priest." We shall find, in the sequel, that this change of title is too important to be overlooked, and that we must give it our attention, if we would bring out the full meaning of the passage. The word translated " minis- ter," denotes properly any public ser- vant, whatever the duties committed to his care. His office, or his ministry, is any business undertaken for the sake of the commonwealth. Hence, in the New Testament, the word rendered " ministry " is transferred to the public office of the Levites and Priests, and afterwards to the sacerdotal office of Christ. We keep the Greek word in our own language, but confine it to the business of the sanctuary, describing as "a Liturgy" a formulary of public devotions. When Christ, therefore, is called the minister of the tabernacle, a broader office seems assigned him than when styled the High Priest. As the High Priest of his church, he is alone ; the functions of the office being such as himself only can discharge. But as the minister of his church, he is indeed supreme, but not alone ; the same title being given to his ambassadors ; as when St. Paul describes himself as the " minister of Jesus Christ to the Gen- tiles, ministering the Gospel of God." Rom. 15 : 16. You will perceive, at once, from this statement, that our text ought not to be expounded as though "INIinister" and "High Priest " were identical titles. No force is then attach- ed to a word, of whose application to Christ this verse is the solitary instance. Indeed we are persuaded that much of the power and beauty of the passage lies in the circumstance, that Christ is called "the Minister of the true taber- nacle," and not the High Priest. If " the true tabernacle " be, as we seem to have ascertained, the whole church of the redeemed, that part of the church which is already in glory appears to have no need of Christ as a priest ; and we may search in vain for the senses which the passage would bear, when applied to this part. But if Christ's priestly func- tions, properly so called, relate not to the church in heaven, it is altogether possible that his ministerial may ; so that there is, perhaps, a propriety in calling him the minister of that church, which there would not be in calling him the High Priest. We shall proceed, therefore, to ex- plain our text on the two assumptions, for each of which we have shown you a reason. We assume, in the first place, that " the true tabernacle " is the col- lective church of the redeemed, whe- ther in earth or heaven : in the second, that the office of minister, though in- cluding that of high priest, has duties attached to it which belong specially to itself These points, you observe, we assume, or take for granted, through the remainder of our discourse ; and we wish them, therefore, borne in mind, as ascertained truths. In strict conformity with these as- sumptions, we shall now speak to you, in the first place, of Christ as minister of the church on earth ; in the second place, of Christ as minister of the church in heaven. Now it is of first-rate importance that we consider Christ as withdrawn only from the eye of sense, and, therefore, present as truly, after a spiritual man- ner, with his church, as when, in the day of humiliation, he moved visibly upon earth. The lapse of time has brought no interruption of his parting promise to the apostles, " Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world." Matt. 28 : 20. He has provid- ed, by keeping up a succession of men who derive authority, in unbroken se- ries, from the first teachers of the faith, for the continued preaching of his word, and administration of his sacraments. And thus he hath been, all along, the great minister of his church : delegat- ing, indeed, power to inferior ministers who " have the treasure in earthen ves- sels ; " 2 Cor. 4:7; but superintending their appointments as the universal bishop, and evangelizing, so to speak, his vast diocese, through their instru- mentality. We contend that you have no true idea of a church, unless you thus recognize in its ordinances, not merely the institution of Christ, but his actual and energizing presence. You have no right, when you sit down in the sanc- tuary, to regard the individual who ad- dresses you as a mere public speaker, delivering an harangue which has pre- cisely so much worth as it may draw from its loaric and its lansruaafe. He is an ambassador from the great Head of the church, and derives an authority i from this Head, which is quite inde- 24 CHRIST THE MINISTER OP THE CHURCH. pendent of his own worthiness. If Christ remain always the minister of his church, Christ is to be looked at through his ministering servant, whoever shall visibly officiate. And though there be a great deal preached in which you cannot recognize the voice of the Sa- vior; and though the sacraments be administered by hands which seem im- pure enough to sully their sanctity; yet do we venture to assert, that no man, who keeps Christ steadfastly in view as the " minister of the true ta- bernacle," will ever fail to derive profit from a sermon, and strength from a communion. The grand evil is that men ordinarily lose the chief minister in the inferior, and determine beforehand that they cannot be advantaged, unless the inferior be modelled exactly to their own pattern. They regard the speaker simply as a man, and not at all as a messenger. Yet the ordained preacher is a messenger, a messenger from the God of the whole earth. His mental capacity may be weak — that is nothing. His speech may be contemptible — that is nothing. His knowledge may be cir- cumscribed — we say not that is no- thing. But we say that, whatever the man's qualifications, he should rest upon his office. And we hold it the business of a congregation, if they hope to find profit in the public duties of the Sab- bath, to cast away those personal con- siderations which may have to do with the officiating individual, and to fix steadfastly their thoughts on the office itself. Whoever preaches, a congrega- tion would be profited, if they sat down in the temper of Cornelius and his friends : "now therefore are we all here present before God, to hear all things that are commanded thee of God." Acts, 10: 33. But if a sermon differ from what a Gospel sermon should be, men will de- termine that Christ could have had no- thing to do with its delivery. Now this, we assei;t, is nothing less than the de- posing Christ from the ministry assign- ed him by our text. AVe are far enough from declaiming that the chief minister puts the false words into the mouth of the inferior. But we are certain, as upon a truth which to deny is to assault the foundations of Christianity, that the chief minister is so mindful of his office that every man, who listens in faith, i expecting a message from above, shall be addressed through the mouth, ay, even through the mistakes and errors, of the inferior. And in upholding this truth, a truth attested by the experience of numbers, we simply contend for the accuracy of that description of Christ which is under review. If, wheresoever the minister is himself deficient and un- taught, so that his sermons exhibit a wrong system of doctrine, you will not allow that Christ's church may be pro- fited by the ordinance of preaching; you clearly argue that the Redeemer has given up his office, and that he can no longer be styled the " minister oi the true tabernacle." There is no mid- dle course between denying that Christ is the minister, and allowing that, what- ever the faulty statements of his ordain- ed servant, no soul, which is hearkening in faith for a word of counsel or com- fort, shall find the ordinance worthless and be sent away empty. And from this we obtain our first il- lustration of our text. We behold the true followers of Christ enabled to find food in pastures which seem barren, and water where the fountains are dry. They obtain indeed the most copious supplies — though, perhaps, even this will not always hold good — when the sermons breathe nothing but truth, and the sacraments are administered by men of tried piety and faith. But when every thing seems against them, so that, on a carnal calculation, you would sup- pose the services of the church stripped of all efficacy, then, by acting faith on the head of the ministry, they are in- structed and nourished; though, in the main, the given lesson be falsehood, and the proflfered sustenance little bet- ter than poison. And if Christ be thus always sending messages to those who listen for his voice; if he so take uj3on himself the office of preacher as to con- strain even the tongue of error to speak instruction to his people; and if, over and above this conveyance of lessons by the most unpromising vehicle, he be dispensing abundantly, by his faithftil ambassadors, the rich nutriment of sound and heavenly doctrine — every sermon, which speaks truth to the heart being virtually a homily of Christ deli- vered by himself^ and every sacrament, which transmits grace, an ordinance of Christ superintended by himself — why, CHRIST THE MINISTER OP THE CHURCH. 25 a fidelity the most extraordinary must be allowed to distinguish the descrip- tion of our text; and Christ, though removed from visible ministration, has yet so close a concernment with all the business of the sanctuary — uttering the word, sprinkling the water, and break- ing the bread, to all the members of his mystical body — that he must em- phatically be styled, " a minister of holy things, of the true tabernacle which the- Lord pitched, and not man." But whilst the office of minister thus includes duties whose scene of per- formance is the holy place, there are others which can only be discharged in the holy of holies. These appertain to Christ under his character of High Priest ; no inferior minister being privi- leged to enter " within the veil." You must, we think, be familiar, through frequent hearing, with the offices of Christ as our Intercessor. You know that though he suffered but once, in the last ages of the world, yet, ever living to plead the merits of his sacrifice, he gives perpetuity to the oblation, and applies to the wa,shing away of sin that blood which is as expiatory as in its first warm gushings. In no respect is it more sublimely true than in this, that Jesus Christ is " the same yesterday, and to-day, and forever." The high priests of Aaron's line entered, year by year, into the holiest of all, making con- tinually a new atonement " for them- selves and for the errors of the people." Heb. 9 : 7. But he who was constituted " after the order of Melchisedec," king as well as priest, entered in once, not " by the blood of goats and calves, but by his own blood," Heb. 9 : 12, and needed never to return and ascend again the altar of sacrifice. It is not that sin can now be taken away by any thing short of shedding of blood. But intercession perpetuates crucifixion. Christ, as high priest within the veil, so immortalizes Calvary that, though " he liveth unto God," he dies continuaUy unto sin. And thus, " if any man sin, we have," saith St. John, " an advocate with the Father." 1 John, 2: 1. But of what nature is his advocacy 1 If you would understand it you must take the survey of his atonement. It was a mighty exploit which the Mediator ef- fected in the days of humiliation. He arose in the strength of that wondrous coalition of Deity and humanity ot which his person was the subject; and he took into his grasp the globe over whose provinces Satan expatiated as his rightful territory ; and, by one vast im- pulse, he threw it back into the galaxy of Jehovah's favor ; and angel and arch- angel, cherubim and seraphim sang the chorus of triumph at the stupendous achievement. Now it is of this achievement that intercession pei-petuates the results. We wish you to understand thorough- ly the nature of Christ's intercession. When Rome had thrown from her the waiTior who had led his countrymen to victory, and galled and fretted the proud spirit of her boldest hero ; he, driven onward by the demon of re- venge, gave himself as a leader where he had before been a conqueror, and, taking a hostile banner into his pas- sionate grasp, headed the foes who sought to subjugate the land of his na- tivity. Ye remember, it may be, how intercession saved the city. The mother bowed before the son ; and Coriolanus, vanquished by tears, subdued by plaints, left the capitol unscathed by battle. Here is a precise instance of what men count successful intercession. But there is no analogy between this intei*- cession and the intercession of Christ, Christ intercedes with justice. But the intercession is the throwing dovsoi his cross on the crystal floor of heaven, and thus proffering his atonement to satisfy the demand. Oh, it is not the interces- sion of burning tears, nor of half-choked utterance, nor of thrilling speech. It is the intercession of a broken body, and of gushing blood — of death, of pas- sion, of obedience. It is the interces- sion of a giant leaping into the gap, and filling it with his colossal stature, and covering, as with a rampart of flesh, the defenceless camp of the outcasts. So that, not by the touching words and gestures of supplication, but by the re- sistless deeds and victories of Calvary, the Captain of our salvation intercedes : pleading, not as a petitioner who would move compassion, but rather as a con- quei-or who would claim liis trophies. Hence Christ is " able to save to the uttermost," on the very ground that " he ever liveth to make intercession ; " Heb. 7 : 25 ; seeing that no sin can ho. committed for which the satisfaction, 26 CHRIST THE MINISTER OF THE CHURCH. made upon Calvary, proffers not an im- mediate and thorough expiation. And if, as the intercessor, or advocate, of his people, Christ Jesus may be said to stand continually at the altar-side; and if he be momentarily offering up the sacrifice which is momentarily required by their fast recumng guilt; is he not most truly a minister of the tabernacle 1 If, though the shadows of Jewish wor- ship have been swept away, so that, day by day, and year by year, a typical atonement is no longer to be made, the constant commission of sin demand, as it must demand, the constant pouring out of blood ; and if, standing not in- deed in a material court, and offering not the legal victims, but, nevertheless, officiating in the presence of God, " a lamb as it had been slain," Rev. 5 : 6, the Redeemer present the oblation pre- scribed for every offence and every short-coming ; is not the whole business of the tabernacle which man pitched transacted over again, and that too every instant, in the tabernacle which God pitched ; and, Christ, being the high priest who alone presides over this expiatory process, how otherwise shall we describe him than as the " minister of the sanctuary, and of the true taber- nacle which the Lord pitched and not man ] " But once more. We may regard the prayers and praises of real believers as incense burnt in the true tabernacle, and rising in fragrant clouds towards heaven. Yet who knows not that this incense, though it be indeed nothing less than the breathings of t\e Holy Spirit, is so defiled by the corrupt channel of humanity through wtich it passes, that, unless purified and ethe- rialized, it can never be accepted of God '? The Holy Ghost, as well as Christ Jesus, is said to make intercession for us. But these intercessions are of a widely different character. The Spirit pleads not for us as Christ pleads, hold- ing up a cross, and pointing to wounds. The intercession of the Spirit is an in- tercession made within oui-selves, and through ourselves. It is the result of the Spirit's casting himself into our breasts, and there praying for us by in- structing us to pray for ourselves. Thus real prayer is the Spirit's breath ; and what else is real praise? Real praise is the Spirit's throwing the heart into the tongue ; or rather, it is the sound produced, when the Spirit has swept the chords of the soul, and there is a coiTOspondent vibration of the lip. But though prayer and praise be thus, em- phatically, the breathings of the Holy Ghost, they ascend not up in their purity, because each of us is compelled to exclaim with Isaiah, " Wo is me, because I am a man of unclean lips." Isaiah, 6 : 5. Even the voice of the in- terceding Spirit, when proceeding from that tongue which " is a fire, a world of iniquity," James 3 : 6, penetrates not the holy of holies, unless the Inter- cessor, who is at God's right hand, give it wings and gain it access. The at- mosphere, so to speak, which is round the throne of the Eternal One, must be impervious to the incense burnt in the earthly tabernacle, unless moist with that mysterious dew which was wrung by anguish from the Mediator. And how then shall we better repre- sent the office which the Intercessor ex- ecutes than by saying, that he holds in his hands the censer of his own merits, and, gathering into it the prayers and praises of his church, renders them a sweet savor acceptable to the Father? Perfumed with the odor of Christ's pro- pitiation, the incense mounts ; and God, in his condescension, accepts the offer- ing and breathes benediction in return. And what then, we again ask, is Christ Jesus but the " minister of the true tabernacle 1 " If it be the Intercessor who carries our prayers and praises within the veil, and, laying them on the glowing fire of his righteousness, causes a spicy cloud to ascend and cover the mercy-seat ; does not this Intercessor officiate in the true tabernacle as did the high priest of old in the figurative ; and have we not fresh attestation to the truth of the description, that Jesus is " a minister of holy things, of the true tabernacle which the Lord pitched, and not man? " We think that the several particulars thus adduced constitute a strong wit- ness, so far as the church on earth is concerned, to the accuracy of the defi- nition presented by our text. We have shown you that to all true believers Christ Jesus is literally the minister of the sanctuary, preaching through the preacher, and administering, through his hands, the sacraments. And though CHRIST THE MINISTER OP THE CHURCH, 27 we may be tliouc^lit to have herein somewhat trenched on the office of the Spirit, we have, in no degree, trans- gressed the statements of Scripture. In the Book of Revelation, it is Christ who sends, through John, the sermons to the churches, who holds in his right hand the seven stars which represent the ministers of these churches, and who walketh in the midst of the seven golden candlesticks which represent the churches themselves. And though, unquestionably, it is the Spirit which carries home the word, the delivery of that word must be referred to the Sa- vior. Thus, in a somewhat obscure passage of St. Peter, Christ is said to have gone by the Spirit, and " preached unto the spirits in prison." 1 Pet. 3 : 19. And certainly what he did to the diso- bedient, he may justly be affirmed to do to the faithful. We have further shown you, that, as the high priest of his people, Christ offers up continual sacrifice, and burns sweet incense. And when you combine these particulars, you have virtually before you the Sa- vior in the pulpit of the sanctuary, the Savior at the altar, the Savior with the censer ; and thus, seeing that he offici- ates in the whole business of the di- vinely-pitched tabernacle, will you not confess him the minister of that taber- nacle 1 But, understanding by the " true ta- bernacle " the collective church of the redeemed, whether in heaven or on earth, we have yet to show you that Christ is the minister of the former por- tion as well as of the latter. You see, at once, that the " true tabernacle " can- not be what we have all along supposed, unless there be ministerial offices dis- charged by Christ towards the saints in glory. And we think that the over- looking the title of minister, or rather the identifying it \vith that of high priest, has caused the unsatisfactori- ness of many commentaries on the pas- sage. As High Priest of the spiritual temple, Christ can scarcely be said to execute any functions in which those who have entered into heaven are per- sonally interested. They are beyond the power of sin, and therefore need not sacrifice. The music of their praises is rolled from celestial harps, and re- quires not to be melodized. But, when we take Christ as the minister, we may observe respects in which, without ad- venturing on rash speculation, he may be said to discharge the same offices to the church above and the church below. We shall not presume to speak of what goes on in the holy of holies, with that confidence which is altogether unwarrantable, when discourse turns on transactions of which the outer court is the scene. But finding Christ described as the " minister of the true tabernacle," and considering this taber- nacle as divided into sections, we only strive to be wise up to what is written, when, observing senses in which the name must be confined to the lower section, we search for others in which it may be extended to the upper. And if Christ minister to the church below by discharging the office of preacher or instructor, who shall doubt that he may also thus minister to the church above 1 We have already re- ferred to a passage in St. Peter which speaks of Christ as having " preached to the spirits." We enter not into the controversies on this passage. But it gives, we think, something o/ founda- tion to the opinion, that whil?t his body was in the sepulchre, Christ preached to spirits in the separate s-'ate, opening . up to them, probably, tlpse mysteries of redemption into whifh even angels, before-time, had vainly striven to look. The kings, and the vrophets, and the righteous men, who had desired to see the things which arostles saw, and had not seen them, and to hear the things which they heard, and had not heard them — unto the^e, it may be, Christ brought a glorious roll of intelligence ; and we can /magine him standing in the midst of a multitude which no man can number, ''*'bo had all gone down to the chambers of death with but indis- tinct and iir-oft' glimpses of the pro- mised Mrssiah, and explaining to the eao-er assembly the beauty, and the stabilif*, of that deliverance which he had jist wrought ort through obe- dience and blood-shedding. And, O, ther-J must have then gone forth a tide of the very loftiest gladness through thi listening crowds of the separate ftate ; and then, perhaps, for the first time, admiration and ecstasy summon- ing out the music, was heard that anthem, whose rich peal rolls down the comhig eternity, " Worthy, wor- 28 CHRIST THE MINISTER OP THE CHURCH. thy, worthy is the Lamb," Then, it may be, for the first time, did Adam embrace all the magnificence of the promise, that the seed of the woman should bruise the serpent's head ; and Abraham understood how the well-be- ing of the human population depended upon one that should spring from his own loins ; and David ascertain all the meaning of mysterious strains, which, as prefiguring Messiah, he had swept from the harp-strings. Then, too, the long train of Aaron's line, who had stood at the altar and slain the victims, and burnt the incense, almost weighed down by a ritual, the import of whose ceremonies was but indistinctly made known — then, it may be, were they sud- denly and sublimely taught the power of every figure, and the expressiveness ""f every rite ; whilst the noble com- *^ 'jiy of prophets, holy men who " spake P'^ they were moved by the Holy St," 2 Pet. 1: 21, but who, rapt ♦;he future, uttered much which ^ 1* \ ^^ future could develope — these, *^" y gh starting from the sleep of as thou^ ^^^^ -j^jQ ^Yie centre of that ages, sp. panorama of truth which they o^^S?^^^^ A -ommissioned to outline, but had ee spreadings there had rested over whose. ^^ ^^^ ^j^^ . ^^^ ^^^^^^ the cloud ai . ..^^^ ^^ j^.^ ^^ thrilled at the ,^^^.^^ .^ ^^^^^ ^^^^ J^ mg, " unto us t ^^^^^ 9 . 6 ; and Hosea as Gho> -1 n ^i. s nightiness of the de- 3d all the 1 ° - - son IS given, grasped all uie . ^- ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^^^ claration, which h ^^ ^^^^^^-^^ ^f g^. whilst denouncing t ^^.^^F^ thy plagues ; maria, " O Death, 1 v apstr>irtion " O Grave, I will be '^^X destruction. Hosea, 13: 14. We know not why 1. - ^ r ^-l ■ ^> be considered that the c^ay of Christ s entrance into the separai \f^'^^^Z^'' like the Pentecostal day to the church upon earK'rday"of "the ro ^^^g off of obscurity from the plan of re. demption, and of the showing how " glor.Y. ^onor, and immortality," Rom. 2: 'r were made accessible to the remotest >ot the world's families; a day on wh if h a thousand types gave place to reaUHes, and a thousand predictions leaped ;iito fulfilment : a day, therefore, on whi ch there circulated through the enormou'S gatherings of Adam and his elect pos- terity, already ushered into rest, a glad- ness which had never yet been reached ^ in all the depth of their beatifical re- pose. And neither, then, can we dis- cover cause why Christ may not be thought to have filled the office of preacher to the buried tribes of the righteous, and thus to have assumed that character which he has never since laid aside, that of " a minister of the sanctuary, and of the true tabernacle which the Lord pitched, and not man." We know but little of the condition of separate spirits : but we know, as- suredly, from the witness of St. Paul, that they are " present with the Lord." 2 Cor. 5 : 8. AVhatever the dwelling- place which they tenant, whilst await- ing the magnificent things of a resur- rection, the glorified humanity of the Savior is amongst them, and they are privileged to hold immediate commun- ings with their Head. Thus the preach- er, the mighty expounder of the will and purposes of the Father, moves to and fro through the admiring throng ; and the souls of those who have loved and served the Redeemer upon earth, are no sooner delivered from the flesh, than they stand in the presence of that illustrious Being who spake as " never man spake." Is he silent? Was it only in the day of humiliation, and in the hour of trouble, that he had instruction to impart, and lessons to convey, and deep and glorious secrets to open up to the faithful 1 He who described himself as actually " straitened " whilst on earth, who had many things to say which his hearers were not able to bear — think ye that, in a nobler scene, and with spirits before him, all whose faculties have been wonderously enlarged and sublimed, he delivers not the homilies of a mightier teaching, and leads not on his people to loftier heights of know- ledge, and broader views of truth ] Oh, we cannot but believe that the glorified Redeemer converses — though thought cannot scan such mysterious and majestic converse — with those blessed beings who " have washed their robes and made them white, " Rev. 7: 14, in his blood; that he unfolds to them the wonders of redemption ; and teaches them the magnificence of God ; and spreads out to their contempla- tion the freight of splendor wherewith the second Advent is charged; and carries them to Pisgah tops, whence ihey look down upon the landscapes, burning with the purole and the gold, CHUIST THE MINISTER OP THE CHURCH. 29 across which they shall pass when at- tired in the livery of the resurrection — thus making the place of separate spirits a church, himself the preacher, immor- tality his text. Yea, when we think on the countless points of difference and debate between men who, in equal sin- cerity, love the Lord Jesus ; when we observe how those, who alike place all their hopes on the Mediator, hold op- posite opinions on many doctrines ; and when we yet further remember, that a long life-time of study and prayer leaves half the Bible unexplored ; there is so much to be unravelled, so much to be elucidated, so much to be learned, that we can suppose the Redeemer, day by day — if days there be where the sun never sets — imparting fresh in- telligence to the enraptured assembly, and causing new gladness to go the round of the crowded ranks, as he ex- pounds a difficulty, and justifies the ways of God to man. And whether or no we be overbold in even hinting at the possible subject- matter of discourse, we only vindicate the title which our text gives to the Savior, when we conclude that as the God-man passes through " the general assembly and church of the first-born," Heb. 12 : 23, he wraps not himself up in silence and loneliness ; but that speaking, as he spake with the dis- ciples journeying to Emmaus, he opens wonders, and causes every heart to burn and bound. So that, removed as is the church within the veil from the ken of our observation, and needing not, as it cannot need, those deeds of an intercessoi', which engage chiefly, in our own case, the ministry of Christ, we can yet be confident that in the Holy of Holies there goes onward a grand work of instruction ; and thus ascertaining that, as a preacher to his people, Christ's office is not limited to those who sojourn in the flesh, we can understand by the " true tabernacle " the church above conjointly with the church below, and yet pronounce, un- reservedly, of Jesus, that he is a " a minister of the true tabernacle which the Lord pitched and not man." Such, brethren, is our account of the title of our text, whether respect be had to believers in glory, or to believ- ers still warring upon earth. If we have dealt con-ectly with the passage, it fur- nishes one great practical admonition, already incidentally mentioned, which it will be well that you keep diligently in mind. When you attend the services of the sanctuary, remember who is the minister of that sanctuary. You run to hear this man preach, and then that man. But who amongst you — let me speak it with reverence — comes in the humble, prayerful, faithful hope of hearing Christ preach 1 Yet Christ is the " minister of the true tabernacle." Christ preaches, through his servants, to those who forget the instrument, and use meekly the ordinance. It is a melancholy and dispiriting thing to observe how little effect seems wrought by preaching. We take the case of a crowded sanctuary, where the business of listening goes on with a more than common abstraction. We may have before us the rich exhibition of an apparently riveted attention ; and the breathless stillness of a multitude shall give witness how they are hang- ing on the lips of the speaker. And if he grow impassioned, and pour out his oratory on things terribly sublime, the countenances of hundreds shall betray a convulsion of spirit — and if he speak glowingly of what is tender and beau- tiful, the sunniness in many eyes shall testify to their feeling an emotion of delightsomeness. But we are not to be carried away by the channs of this spectacle. We know too thoroughly, that, with the closing of the sermon, may come the breaking of the spell; and that it is of all things the most pos- sible, that, if we pursued to their homes these earnest listeners, we should find no proof that impression had been made by the enunciated truths, and, perhaps, no more influential remembrance of the discourse, by whose power they had been borne completely away, than if they had sat fascinated by the loveli- ness of a melody, or awe-struck at the thunderings of an avalanche. And the main reason of all this we take to be that men forget the ordi- nance, and look only to the instrument. If such be the case, it is no marvel that they derive nothing from preach- ing but a little animal excitement, and a little head-knowledge. If you listen not for the voice of Christ, who shall wonder that you hear only the voice of man, and so go away to your homes 30 IMPOSSIBILITY OP CREATURE-MERIT. with youi' souls unfed, simply equipped for sitting in judgment upon the ser- mon as you would upon a tragedy, and ready to begin the review with some caustic remark, which shall prove, that, whatever else you have learned, you have not learned charity 1 Alas ! the times on which we have fallen are so evil, that there is almost a total losing-sight of the ordinance of a visible church. Preaching is valued, not as Christ's mode of ministering to his people, and therefore always to be prized; but as an oratorical display, whose worth, like that of a pleading at the bar, is to be judged by the skill of the argument and the power of the language. We can but point out to you the er- ror. It must remain with yourselves to strive to correct it. " Cease ye from man." Isaiah 2 : 22. When and where is this injunction so needful as in a church, and on a Sabbath 1 Every thing is made to depend on the clergyman. And men will tell you that he is very good, but very dull ; that his doctrine is sound, but his delivery heavy ; that he is inanimate, or ungraceful, or flow- ery, or prosaic. But as to hearing that he is Christ's servant, an instrument in his Master's hands — who meets with this from the Dan to the Beersheba of our Israel ] " Cease ye from man." If ye hope to be profited by preaching ; if ye would become — and this is a noble thing — independent of the preacher ; strive ye diligently to press home upon your minds, as ye draw nigh to the sanctuary, that Jesus Christ is the " mi- nister of the true tabernacle." Thus shall ye be always secure of a lesson, and so be trained gradually for that inner court of the temple where, sitting down wdth patriarchs, and apostles, and saints, at the feet of the great Preacher himself, you shall learn, and enjoy, im- mortality. SERMON III. THE IMPOSSIBILITY OF CREATURE-MERIT. " For all things come of thee, and of thine own have we given thee." — 1 Chhonicles, xxix, 14. Full of years, of riches, and of ho- nors, David, the man after God's own heart, is almost ready to be gathered to his fathers, and to exchange his earthly diadem for one radiant with immortali- ty. Yet, ere he pass into his Maker's temple of the skies, he would provide large store of material for that terres- trial sanctuary, which, though it must not be reared by himself, he knew would be builded by Solomon. The gold and the silver, the onyx stones, and the stones of divers colors, and the mar- bles, these, and other less precious commodities, the monarch of Israel had heaped together for the work ; and now he summons the princes of the congregation to receive in trust the legacy, _ Yet it was comparatively but little to bequeath the rich and costly pro- duce of the earth ; and David might have felt that a devoted and zealous spirit outweighed vastly the metal and the jewel. He indeed could leave be- hind him an abundance of all that was needful for the building in Jerusalem a house for the ark of the covenant ; but IMPOSSIBILITY OP CREATtTRE-MERIT. 31 where was the piety, where the holi- ness of enterprise which should call in- to being the fabric of his wishes 1 He will not then lie down in his grave without breathing over the rare and glittering heaps a stimng, yea, al- most thrilling appeal ; demanding who, amid the assembled multitude, would emulate his example, and consecrate his service, that day, unto the Lord 1 It augured well for the kingdom of Ju- dea that its great men, and its nobles, answered to the call, as a band of de- voted warriors to the trumpet-peal of loyalty. He who had provided rich garniture for the temple's walls, and glorious hymns to echo through its courts, had cause to lift up his voice with gladness, and bless the Lord, when the chief of the fathers, and the heads of the tribes, offered themselves will- ingly, and swelled, by the gift of their own possessions, the treasures already devoted to the sanctuary. He had now good earnest that the cherished pro- mise was on the eve of fulfilment; and that though, having himself shed blood, and been a man of war from his youth, it was not fitting that he should rear a dwelling-place for Deity, one who sprang from his own loins should be honored as the builder of a structure, into which Jehovah would descend with the cloudy majesty of a mystic Shekinah. But, whilst glad of heart and rejoic- ing, David felt deeply how unworthy he was of the mercies which he had received, and how man-ellous was that favor of Deity of which himself, and his people, had been objects. The na- tion had come forward, and, with a willing heart, dedicated its treasures to Jehovah. But the king, whilst exult- ing at such evidence of national piety, knew well that God alone had imparted the disposition to the people, and that, therefore, God must be thanked for what was offered to God. " Now, there- fore," saith he, " our God, we thank thee, and praise thy glorious name. But who am I, and what is my people, that we should be able to offer so will- ingly after this sort 1 " Two things, you observe, excited his gratitude and surprise : first, that the people and him- self should have so much to offer; se- condly, that over and above the abili- ty, there should be the willingness, to make so costly an oblation. He felt, that God had dealt wondrously with Israel in emptying into its lap the riches of the earth, and thus rendering it possible that piles of the precious and the beautiful might be given, at his summons, for the work of the tem- ple. But then he also felt that the land might have groaned beneath the accu- mulations of wealth ; but that, had not the hearts of the people been made willing by God, no fraction of the enor- mous mass would have been yielded for the building which he longed to see reared. God had given both the substance, and the willingness to con- secrate it to his service. And when David felt the privilege of a temple be- ing allowed to rise in Jerusalem, and, at the same time, remembered how en- tirely it was of God that there was either the ability, or the readiness, to build the structure ; he might well burst into the exclamation, " Wlio am I, and what is iny people, that we should be able to offer so willingly after this sort 1 " and then add, in the words of our text, " For all things come of thee, and of thine own have we given thee." You may thus perceive the connec- tion between the words on which we are to meditate, and those which im- mediately precede. David, as we have shown you, expressed surprise on two accounts, each of which is indicated by our text. He marvels that God should have blessed the people with such abundance, and explains why he ascribes the abundance to God, by sayr ing, " All things come of thee." But he is also amazed at the condescension of God in giving willingness, as well as ability, to the people. God needed not to receive at the creature's hands, and, therefore, it was pure love which moved him thus to influence the heart. Nothing could be presented to him which was not already his ; and might not then David be justly overjjowered by the graciousness of God, seeing that, however noble the offering, " of thine own have we given thee," must be the confession by which it was at- tended 1 There will be no necessity, afler having thus stated the occasion on which the text was delivered, and the meaning which it originally bore, that 32 IMPOSSIBILITY OF CKEATURE-MERIT. we refer again to the preparations of David for building the temple. It is evident that the words are of most general applicability, and that we need not take account of the circumstances of the individual who first uttered them, when we would interpret their mean- ing, or extract their lessons. We shall, therefore, proceed to consider the pas- sage as detached from the context, and as thus presenting us with truths which concern equally every age and every individual. We regard the words before us as resisting, with singular power, the no- tion that a creature can merit. We know not the point in theology which requires to be oftener stated, or more carefully established, than the impossi- bility that a creature should merit at the hands of the Creator. It is not to be controverted that men are disposed to entertain the opinion that creature- merit is possible, so that they have it in their power to effect something de- S'erving recompense from God. They will not indeed always set the point of merit very high. They vdll rather imi- tate the Pharisee in the parable, who evidently thought himself meritorious for stopping a degree or two short of being scandalous. " God, I thank thee that I am not as other men are, extortion- ers, unjust, adulterers." Luke, 18: 11. But whether it be at a low point or a lofty, that merit is supposed to com- mence, every man must own as his natu- ral sentiment that it commences at some point J and each one of us, if he have ever probed his own heart, will confess himself prone to the persuasion, that the creature can lay the Creator under obligation. We find ourselves able to deserve well of one another, to confer favors, and to contract debts. And when we carry up our thoughts from the finite to the infinite, we quite for- get the total change in the relation- ship ; and we perceive not that the po- sition in which we stand to our Maker excludes those desei-vings which, un- questionably, have place between man and man. Men simply view God as the mightiest of sovereigns, and, knowing it possible to do a favor to their kino-, conclude it possible to do a favor to their God. Now it must be of first-rate impor- tance that we ascertain the truth or the falsehood of such a conclusion. The method in which we may look to be saved will gi-eatly vary, according as we admit, or deny, the possibility of merit. It is quite clear that our moral position, if we cannot merit, must be vastly different fi-om what it is, if we can merit, and that, consequently, the apparatus of deliverance cannot, in the two cases, be the same. So that it is no point of curious and metaphysical speculation, whether merit be consist- ent with creatureship. On the contrary, there cannot be a question whose de- cision involves inferences of greater practical moment. If I can merit, sal- vation may be partly of debt, and I may eara it as wages. If I cannot me- rit, salvation must be wholly of grace, and I must receive it as a gift. And thus every dispute upon justification by faith, every debate in reference to works as a procuring cause of accept- ance, would virtually be settled by the settlement of the impossibility of crea- ture-merit. Questions such as these are best determined by reference to first principles. And if you had once demonstrated that merit is inconsist- ent with creatureship, you would have equally demonstrated that neither faith, nor works, can procure man's salvation in the way of desert ; but that, what- ever the instrumentality through which justification is effected, justification it- self must be wholly of grace. Now we think, that, in examining the words of our text, we shall find powerful reasons from which to con- clude the impossibility of merit. The text may be said to state a fact, and then an inference from that fact. The fact is, that " All thiiigs come of God : " the inference is, that a creature can give God nothing wliich is not already his own. We will examine successively the fact, and the inference ; and then apply the passage to the doctrine which we desire to establish. We are, in the first place, to speak on the stated fact, that all things come of God. Now thei-e is nothing more wonder- ful in respect to Deity than that uni- versality of operation which is always ascribed to him. One grand distinction between the infinite being, and all finite beings, appears to us to be, that the one can be working a thousand things IMPOSSIBILITY OF CREATURE-MERIT. 33 at once, whilst the energies of the othei's must confine themselves to one work at one time. If you figure to your- selves the highest of created intelligen- ces, you endovi^ him wdth a might which leaves immeasurably behind the noblest human powers ; but you never think of investing him with the ability of act- ing, at the same time, on this globe, and on one of those far-off planets which we see travelling around us. You make, in short, the strength of an arch- angel by multiplying the strength of a man. But, whatever the degree up to which you think it needful to multiply, you never add to the strength the in- comprehensible property, that it may be exerting itself, at the same moment, in places between which there is an untravelled separation, and causing its mightiness to be simultaneously felt in the various districts of a crowded im- mensity. If you even multiplied finite power till you supposed it to become infinite, you would only keep adding to its intenseness, and would in no de- gree attribute to it ubiquity. And, how- ever you might suppose this multiplied power capable of wonders which seem to demand the interpositions of Deity, you would still consider, that these wonders must be performed in succes- sion ;- and you would never imagine of the power, that, in the depths of every ocean, and on the surface of every star, it could, at the same instant, be putting Ibrth its magiiificent workings. And thus it is that the Omnipresence of Godhead is that property, which, more than any other, outruns our con- ceptions. In multiplying power, so to speak, you never multiply presence. But when you had even wrought up the idea of a power which can create, and aimihilate, you would give it one thing to create at once, and one thing to annihilate at once ; and you would never suppose it busy equally, in all its glory and all its resistlessness, in every department of an universe, and with ev- ery fraction of infinity. So that the topmost marvel is that " All things come of God." The un- approachable mystery — it is not that God should be in the midst of this sanctuary, and that he should be minis- tering life to those gathered within it« -walls — it is, that he should be no more here than he is elsewhere, and no more elsewhere than he is here ; and that with as actual a concentration of energy as though he had no other oc- cupation, he should be supplying our fast-recurring necessities ; and yet that, with such a diffusion of presence as causes him to be equally every where, he should superintend each district of creation, and give out vitality to each order of beings. " All things come of God." It is not merely that all things come of God by original production ; all things come of God by after-sus- tainment. And whether you consider the visible world, or the invisible ; whe- ther you extend your thoughts over the unmeasured fields of materialism, or send them to the sui-vey of those count- less ranks of intelligence which stretch upwards between yourselves and your Maker — you are bound to the belief that every spot in the unlimited space, and every member of the teeming as- semblage, requires and receives the operations of Deity ; and that if, for a lonely instant, those operations were suspended, worlds would jostle and make a new chaos, while a disastrous bank- ruptcy of life would succeed to the pre- sent exuberance of animation. So that it is as true of the angelic hosts, moving in their power and their purity, as of ourselves, fallen from im- mortality, and beggared, and weaken- ed, that " all things come of God." There can be but one independent be- ing, and on that one all others must depend. An independent being must, necessarily, be self-existent, possess- ing in himself all the well-springs of life, and all the sources of happiness. A being whose existence is derived must, as necessarily, be dependent on the first author for the after-continu- ance. A being who could do without God would himself be God ; and there needs no argument to prove to you, that, whatever else God could make, he could not make himself And you must take it, therefore, as a truth which admits not limitation, that " all things come of God; " so that there is not the order of creatures, whether material or immaterial, which stands not, every moment, indebted for every thing to God, or which, however rare its en- dowments, and however majestic its possessions, could dispense, for one instant, with communications from the 34 IMPOSSIBILITY OF CREATURE-MERIT. fulness of the Almighty, or be thrown on its own energies, without being thrown to darkness and destruction. And though it suit not our purpose that we should dwell long on the fact that " all things come of God," yet, associated as this fact is with whatso- ever is most wonderful in Deity, we may call upon you to admire it, before we proceed to the inference which it furnishes. It is an august and an over- powering thought, that our God should be alike 2:)resent on every star, and in each of its minutest recesses ; and that, though there be a vast employment of the mechanism of second causes, there is not wrought a beneficial effect throughout the boundless expansions of creation, whose actual authorship can be referred to any thing short of the first great cause. It is a noble con- templation, though one by which our faculties are presently confounded, that of the whole universe hanging upon Deity ; archangel, and angel, and man, and beast, and worm, receiving momen- tary supplies from the same inexhausti- ble fountain ; and every tenant of every system appealing to the common pa- rent to preserve it, each instant, from extinction. Oh, we take it for a cold, and a withered heart, which is con- scious of no unusual and overcoming emotions, when there is told forth the amazing fact, that the God, who heark- ens to the prayer of the meanest and most despised, and who is verily pre- sent, in all his omnipotence, when in- voked by the veiy poorest of the chil- dren of calamity, should be actuating, at the same moment, all the machinery of the universe, and inspiring all its animation ; guiding the rollings of every planet, and the leap of every cataract, and dealing out existence to eveiy thing that breatheth. We say again that it is this property of God, the property of acting every where at once, so that all things come of him, which removes him furthest from companionship with the finite, and makes him inaccessible to all the soarings of the creature. It is the property to which we have no- thing analogous amongst ourselves, even on the most reduced and minia- ture scale. A creature must be local. He must cease to act in one place be- fore he can begin to act in another. But the Creator knows nothing whether of distance or time. Inhabiting su- blimely both infinity and eternity, there cannot be the spot in space, nor the in- stant in duration, when and where he is not equally present. And seeing that he thus occupies the universe, not as being diffused over it, but as existing, in all his integrity, in its every division and subdivision ; and, seeing, moreover, that he Avaits not the passage of cen- turies, but is at " the end fi-om the be- ginning; " Isaiah, 4G : 10 ; it can be li- terally true, without exaggeration, and without figure, that " all things come of him ; " whatsoever there is of good being wrought by him, whatsoever of evil, permitted ; the present being of his performance, and the future of his appointment. And it is worth observing, that, if it must be the confession of every order of being that "all things," whatsoever they possess, " come of God," such confession must be binding, with a dou- ble force, upon man. It must be true of us, on the principles which prove it true generally of creatures, that we have nothing which we have not re- ceived, and for which, therefore, we stand not indebted to Deity. But then, by our rebellion and apostacy, there was a forfeiture, we say not of rights — for we deny that the creature can have right to any thing fi-om the Creator — but of those privileges which God, in his mercy, confeiTed on the work of his hands. As a benevolent being, we may be sure that God would not call creatures into existence, and then dis- miss them from his care and his guar- dianship. And though we pretend not to say that creatureship gave a positive claim on the Creator, it i^endered it a thing on which we might venture to calculate, that, so long as the creature obeyed, the Creator would minister to his every necessity. But, as soon as there was a failure in obedience, it was no longer to be expected that creature- ship would insure blessings. The in- stant that a race of beings declined from loyalty to God, there was nothing to be looked for but the suspension of all the outgoings of the Creator's benefi- cence ; seeing that the law, entailed by creatureship, having been violated, the privileges to which it admitted were of necessity forfeited. And this was the position in which IMPOSSIBILITY OF CREATURE-MERIT. 35 the human race stood, when, by the first transgi-ession, God's service was renounced. Whatever the fairness with which Adam might have calculated, that, if he continued obedient, his every want would be supplied, he could not reckon, when he had broken the com- mand, on a breath of air, or a ray of sun- shine, or a particle of food. It was no longer, if we may use the expression, natural, that he should be upheld in be- ing and sufficiency. On the contrary, the pi'obability must have been that he would be immediately annihilated, or left to consume away piece-meal. And since, in spite of this forfeiture, we are still in the enjoyment of all the means and mercies of existence, we must be bound even far more than angels who never transgressed, to acknowledge that " all things come of God." Angels receive all things by the charter of crea- tion. But man tore up that charter ; and we should therefore receive no- thing, had there not been given us a new charter, even the charter of re- demption. So that God hath made a fresh and special arrangement on be- half of the fallen. And now, whatso- ever we possess, whether it have to do with our intellectual part, or our ani- mal, with the present life or the future, is delivered into our hands stamped, so to speak, with the sign of the cross ; and we learn that " all things come of God," because all things, even the most common and insignificant, flow through the channel of a superhuman mediation, and are sprinkled with the blood to which Divinity gave preciousness. But we may consider that we have sufficiently examined the fact asserted in our text, and may pass on, secondly, to the inference which it furnishes. This inference is — and you can re- quire no argument to prove to you its justice — that we can give God nothing which is not already his. "All things come of thee, and of thine own have we given thee." You must perceive at once, that, if it be true of the creatui'es of every rank of intelligence, that they possess nothing which they have not received from God, they can offer no- thing which is purely and strictly their own. But it is necessary that we ex- amine, with something of attention, in- to the nature of God's gifts, in order to remove an objection which might be brought against our statements. If one creature give a thing to another, he ceases to have property in the gift, and cannot again claim it as his own. If a man make me a present, he virtually cedes all title to the thing given ; and if I wei'e afterwards to restore him the whole, or a part, it would be of mine own, and not of his own, that I gave him. But if — for even amongst our- selves we may find a case somewhat analogous to that of the Creator in his dealings with creatures — if I were re- duced to utter poverty, with no means whatsoever of earning a livelihood ; and if a generous individual came forward, and gave me capital, and set me up in trade ; and if, in mine after-prosperity, I should bring my benefactor some of- fering expressive of gratitude ; it is clear that I might, with the strictest truth, say, " of thine own do I give thee." I should be indebted to my be- nefactor for what I was able to give ; and, of course, that for which I stood indebted to him might be declared to be his. But even this case comes far short of that of the Creator and the creature. The creature belongs to God : and God, therefore, cannot give to the creature in that sense in which one creature may give to another. All that the creature is, and all that the crea- ture has, appertains to God ; so that, in giving, God alienates not his property in that which he bestows. If he owm, so to speak, the angel, or the man, then whatever the angel or the man possesses belongs still to his proprietor ; and though that proprietor may give things to be used, they must continue his own, in themselves and in their produce. It indeed it were possible that a creature could become the property of any other than the Creator, it might be also pos- sible that a creature could possess what was not the Creator's. But as long as it is certain that no creature can have rigfht to call himself his own — the fact of creation making him God's by an invulnerable title — it ought to be re- ceived as a self-evident truth, that no creature can possess a good thing which is his own. All which he receives fi-om the bounty of God still belongs to God. So that if whatsoever is brilliant and holy in the universe combined to fashion an offering ; if the depths of the mines were fathomed for the richest of me- 36 IMPOSSIBILITY OF CREATURE-MERIT. tals, and the starry pavilions swept of their jewellery, and the ranks of the loftiest intelligence laid under contribu- tion ; there could be poured no gift into the coffers of heaven ; but the splendid oblation, thus brought to the Almighty, would be his before, as much as after presentation. And this truth it is by which we look to demonstrate the impossibility of creature-merit. We will begin with the highest order of created intelligence, and we will ask you whether the angel, or the archangel, can merit of God % If one being merit of another, it must pei-form some action which it was not obliged to perform, and by which that other is advantaged. Nothing else, as you must perceive if you will be at the pains of thinking, can constitute merit. I do another a favor, and, therefore, de- serve at his hands, if I do something by which he is profited, and which I was not obliged, by mere duty, to do. If either of these conditions fail, merit must vanish. If the other party gain nothing, he can owe me nothing ; and if I have only done what duty prescri- | bed, he had a right to the action, and | cannot, therefore, have been laid under obligation. Now if this be a just desci-iption of merit, can the angel or the archangel deserve any thing of God ] We waive the consideration, that, if there be merit, God must be advantaged — though there lies m It the material of an overpower- ing proof that the notion of creature- merit is little short of blasphemous. Who can think of being profitable unto God, when he remembers the independ- ence of Deity, and calls to mind that there was a time when the Creator had not surrounded himself with worlds and tribes, and when, occupied with glori- ous and ineffable communings, the Fa- ther, Son, and Spirit, reaped in from the deep solitudes of immensity as full a revenue of happiness as they now ga- ther from its thickly-peopled circles 1 No creature can do without God. But God could have done without creatures. They were not necessary to God. There was no void in his blessedness which required the contributions of creatures before it could be filled up. And it must be absurd to talk of ad- vantaging God, when we know that his magnificence and his happiness would have been infinite, had he chosen to dwell forever in his sublime loneli- ness, and suffered not the stillness of the unmeasured expanse, full only of himself, to be broken by the hum of a swarming population. But we waive this consideration. We fasten you to the fact, that a merito- rious action must be an action of which duty demands not the performance. If the angel have spare time which be- longs not to God ; if the angel have material which belongs not to God ; let the angel bestow that time upon that material, and let him bring the result as an oblation to his Maker; and there shall be merit in that oblation ; and he shall gain a recompense on the plea of desert : according to the lule which an apostle hath laid down, " who hath first given to the Lord, and it shall be re- compensed unto him again ? " Romans, 1 1 : 35. If the angel have powers which he is under no obligation of consecra- ting to God ; if they are mightier than suffice for duty ; and if there be, there- fore, an overplus which he is at liberty to bestow on some work of superero- gation ; let him employ these uncalled- for energies in extra and unprescribed service, and, doubtless, his claim shall not be unheeded when he gives in the additional and voluntaiy performance. But if the angel have time which be- longs not to God ; and if the angel have power which he is not required to dedicate to God ; there is an end of the proved truth, " of thine own have we given thee." In determining the question, whether a creature can merit, we have nothing to do, abstractedly, with the magnificence of the energies of that creature, nor with the stupen- dousness of the achievments which he is capable of effecting. There is not of necessity, any greater reason why an angel should merit, because able to move a world, than why a worm should merit, because just able to crawl upon its surface. The whole question of the possibility of merit is a question of the possibility of outrunning duty. Unless duty be exceeded, every creature must receive, as applicable to himself, the words of the Savior, " When ye shall have done all those things which are commanded you, say, we are unprofita- ble servants, (and, if unprofitable, cer- tainly not meritorious j) we have done IMPOSSIBILITY OF CREATURE-MERIT. 37 that which was our duty to do." Luke, 17 : 10. And if duty thus exclude merit, the condition of the angel, as much as that of the worm, excludes merit. If all which the angel has belong to the Cre- tor ; if that noble intelligence which elevates him far above our own level be the property of God ; if that awful might, which could strew the ground with the thousands of the Assyrian host, be communicated by Deity ; if that velocity of flight, which fits him to go on embassages to the very out- skirts of creation, be imparted by his Maker — there must be a demand, an in- alienable demand, upon the angel, for every instant of his time, and for every fraction of his strength, and for every waving of his wing. Duty, the duty which is imposed upon him by the fact of his creatureship, can draw no fron- tier-line excluding from a required con- secration to God the minutest item of those multiform possessions, which ren- der him a splendid and masterful thing, the nearest approach to Divinity in all that interminable series of productions which bounded into being at the call of the Omnipotent. So that the angel, just as much as the meanest of creatures, must say of all that he can bring to God, of thine own do I give thee. It is, indeed, a costlier oflering than the human eye hath seen, or the human thought ima- gined. There is a fervor of affection, and a grasp of understanding, and a strenuousness of labor, ay, and an in- tenseness of self-abasement and humi- lity, which enter not into the best and purest of the oblations which are laid by ourselves at the feet of our Maker. But as there is not one jot less than duty prescribes, neither is there one jot more. God gave all which is brought to him. His the glowing love. His the soaring intellect. His the aw- ful vigor. His the beautiful lowliness. And shall he be laid under obligation by his ovn\ % Shall he be bound to make return, because he hath received of his own ] Oh, we may discuss, and debate, upon earth, the possibility, or the impossibility, of creature-merit. But we may be sure, that, if the ques- tion could be propounded to angels, the thought of mei'it would be rejected as treason. Standing in the immediate pre- sence of their glorious Creator ; privi- leged to gaze, so far as it is possible for creatures to gaze without being withered, on his unveiled lustres ; and fraught with the consciousne,ss, that, however wonderful their powers and capacities, they possess nothing which God did not give, and which God might not instantly withdraw — angels must feel that the attempt to deserve of the Almighty would be tantamount to an attempt to dethrone the Almighty, and that the supposing that more might be done than is demanded by duty, would be the supposing an eternity exhausted, and time left for some praiseworthy exploits. Angels must discern, with an acuteness of perception never reached by ourselves' whilst hampered by cor- ruption, that each energy in their en- dowment constitutes a requisition for a contribution of glory to Jehovah ; and that the endeavor to employ it to the procuring greatness, or happiness, for themselves, would amount to a base and fatal prostitution, causing them to be ranked with the apostate. And thus, upon the simple principle that " all things come of God," and that only of Ms own can they give him, angels, who are vast in might, and brilliant in puri- ty, would count it the breaking into re- bellion to entertain the thought of the possibility of merit ; and vinless you could prove to them that God had given less than all, that there were abilities in their nature which they had derived from sources independent on Deity, and that, consequently, their duty to- wards God required not the dedication of every iota of every faculty ; unless you could prove to them this, — and you might prove this, when you could show to them two Gods, two Crea- tors, and parcel out between two Al- mighties the authorship of their sur- passing endowments — you would make no way with your demonstration, that it was possible for an angel to deserve of God. You might accumulate your arguments. But as long as they reached not the point thus marked out, still, as the shining and potent beings came in from the execution of lofty commis- sions, and poured into the treasury of their Maker the noble contributions of his accomplisned purposes, oh, they would veil their faces, and bow down in lowliness, and confess themselves 38 IMPOSSIBILITY OF CREATURE-MERIT. unprofitable ; and in place of ground- ing a claim on the employment of their energies in the service of Jehovah, re- verently declare that the non-employ- ment would have deserved the fire and the rack ; so that, throwing from them as impious the notion of merit, they would roll this chorus through the heavenly Temple, " all things come of thee, and of tliine own, O God, have we given thee." Now if we bring down our inquiry from the higher orders of intelligence to the lower, we-, of course, carry with us the proof which has been advanced of the impossibility of merit. If we pass from the case of angels to that of men, we may fairly apply the results of our foregoing argument, and consi- der the one case as involved in the other. It will hardly be disputed, that, if creatureship exclude the possibility of merit from amongst angels, it must also exclude it from amongst men. We argue not, indeed, that merit is more out of the reach of one rank of beings than of another. We simply contend that with every rank of being merit is an impossibility; but, since a thing cannot be more than impossible, we, of course, do not speak of degrees of im- possibility. And yet, undoubtedly, there is a sense in which an angel comes nearer merit than a man. An angel falls not short of duty, though it cannot exceed ; and, therefore, it deserves no- thing, neither wrath nor reward. A man, on the contrary, falls short of duty, and, therefore deserves wrath ; though, even if he fell not short, he could not exceed, and, therefore, could not deserve reward. So that the angel goes further than the man. The angel fulfils duty, but cannot overstep. The man leaves a vast deal undone which he is required to do ; and he must, at least, make up deficiencies, before he can think of an overplus. We may con- sider, then, that in proving the impossi- bility of creature-merit, when the crea- ture is angelic, we have equally proved it, when the creature is human. And thus Heaven would have been as much a free-gift to Adam, had he never diso- beyed by eating of the fruit, as it now is to the vilest of his descendants, with the treason-banner in his hand, and the leprosy spot on his forehead. Had Adam walked unflinchingly through his probation-time, spuming back the tempter, and swei-ving not an iota from loyalty and love ; and had he then ap- peared before his Maker, exclaiming, now, O God, I have deserved immorta- lity ; why, this very speech would have been the death-knell of our creation ; and Adam wpuld as actually have fallen, and as actually have sent down the dark bequeathments of a curse to his latest posterity, by pretending to have merit- ed because he had obeyed, as now that he led the van in rebellion, and, break- ing a positive law, dislocated the happi- ness of a countless population. We thus consider that the impossi- bility of human merit follows, as a co- rollary, on our demonstration of the impossibility of angelic. But we shall not content ourselves with inferring the one case from the other. Feeling deeply the importance of your under- standing thoroughly why you cannot merit of God, we shall apply briefly our text to the commonly-presumed instan- ces of human desert. You will find one man thinking, that, if he repent, he shall be pardoned. In other words, he supposes that there is a virtue in repentance which causes it to procure forgiveness. Thus repent- ance is exhibited as meritorious ; and how shall we simply prove that it is not meritorious % Why, allowing that man can repent of himself — which he cannot — what is the repentance on which he presumes % What is there in it of his own % The tears 1 they are but the dew of an eye which is God's. The sighs % they are but the heaving^ of a heart which is God's. The resolu- tions % they are but the workings of faculties which are God's. The amend- ment ? it is but the better employment of a life which is God's. Where then is the merit % O, find something which is, at the same time, human and excel- lent in the offering, and you may speak of desert. But until then, away with the notion of there being merit in re- pentance, seeing that the penitent man must say, "All things come of thee, and of thine own, O God, do I give thee." Again : some men will speak of being justified by faith, till they come to as- cribe merit to faith. " By faith," is in- terpreted as though it meant, on ac- count of faith ; and thus the great IMPOSSIBILITY OP CREATURE-MERIT. 39 truth is lost sight of, that we are justi- fied freely " through the redemption that is in Christ." Romans, 3 : 24. But how can faith be a meritorious act 1 What is faith but such an assent of the understanding to God's word as binds the heart to God's service 1 And whose is the understanding, if it be not God's 1 "Whose is the heart, if it be not God's? And if faith be nothing but the render- ing to God that intellect, and that en- ergy, which we have received from God, how can faith deserve of God? Oh, as with repentance, so with faith ; away with the notion of merit. He who believes, so that he can dare the grave, and grasp eternity, must pour forth the confession, " all things come of thee, and of thine own, O God, do I give thee." And once more : what merit can there be in works 1 If you give much alms, whose is the money ? " The sil- ver is mine, and the gold is mine, saith the Lord of Hosts." Haggai, 2 : 8. If you mortify the body, whose are the macerated limbs 1 If you put sackcloth on the soul, whose is the chastened spi- rit 1 If you be moral, and honest, and friendly, and generous, and patriotic, whose are the dispositions which you exercise, whose the powers to which you give culture and scope 1 And if you only use God's gifts, can that be meritorious 1 You may say, yes — it is meritorious to use them aright, whilst others abuse them. But is it wicked- ness to abuse 1 Then it can only be duty to use aright ; and duty will be merit when debt is donation. You may be;tow a fortune in charity; but the wealth is already the Lord's. You may cultivate the virtues which adorn and sweeten human life ; but the employed powers are the Lord's. You may give time and strength to the enterprises of philanthropy ; each moment is the Lord's, each sinew is the Lord's. You may be upright in every dealing of trade, sci'upulously honourable in all the intercourses of life ; but " a just weight and balance are the Lord's, all the weights of the bag are his work." Prov. 16 : 11. And where then is the merit of works 1 Oh, throw into one heap each power of the mind, each energy of the body ; use in God's service each grain of your substance, each second of your time ; give to the Almighty every throb of the pulse, every drawing of the breath ; labor and strive, and be instant, in season and out of season, and let the steepness of the mountain daunt you not, and the swellings of the ocean de- ter you not, and the ruggedness of the desert appal you not, but on, still on, in toiling for your Maker ; and dream, and talk, and boast of merit, when you can find the particle in the heap, or the shred in the exploit, which you may ex- clude from the confession, "all things come of thee, and of thine own, O God, have I given thee." Now we would tnist that the impos- sibility of creature-merit has thus been established as an inference from the statement of our text. We wish you thoroughly to perceive that merit is in- consistent with creature-ship. We do not merely prove that this, or that, or- der of being cannot merit. Merit is in- consistent with creatureship. A crea- ture meriting of the Creator is an im- possibility. When the archangel can merit, the worm may merit. And he alone who is independent ; he who has received nothing ; he who is every thing to himself, as well as every thing to the universe, his own fountain of existence, his own storehouse of happiness, his own harvest of glory ; God alone can merit, and, therefore, God alone could i-edeem. We have now only, in conclusion, to ask, whether you will keep back from God what is strictly his own ? W^ill ye rob God, and pawn his time, and his ta- lents, and his strength with the world 1 Will ye refuse him what, though it can- not be given \\dth merit, cannot be de- nied without i-uin 1 He asks your heart ; give it him ; it is his own. He asks your intellect ; give it him ; it is his own. He asks your money ; give it him ; it is his own. Remember the words of the apostle, " Ye are not your own ; ye are bought with a price." 2 Cor. 6 : 20. Ye are not your own. Ye are bought even if ye perish. Your bodies are not your own, though you may enslave them to lust ; they are God's, to be thrown to the rack. Your souls are not your own, though you may hide, and tarnish, and degrade their immortality ; they are God's, to be chained do^\^l to the rock, that the waves of wrath may dash and break over them. Oh, we want you ; nay, the spirits of the just want you ; 40 THE HUMILIATION OF THE MAN CHRIST JESUS. and the holy angels want you : and the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost want you ; all but the devil and ruined souls want you, to leave off de- frauding the Almighty, and to give him his oivn, themselves, his by creation, his doubly by redemption. I must give God the body, I must give God the soul. I give him the body, if I clothe the tongue with his praises ; if I yield not my mem- bers as instruments of unrighteousness ; if I suffer not the fires of unhallowed passion to light up mine eye, nor the vampire of envy to suck the color from my cheek ; if I profane not my hands with the gains of ungodliness ; if I turn away mine ear from the scoffer, and keep under every appetite, and wrestle with every lust ; making it palpable that I consider each limb as not destined to corruption, but intended for illustrious service, when, at the trumpet-blast of the resuiTOction, the earth's sepulchres shall be riven. And I give God the soul, when the understanding is reverently turned on the investigations of celestial truth ; when the will is reduced to meek compliance with the Divine will ; and when all the affections move so harmo- niously with the Lord's that they fasten on the objects which occupy his. This it is to give God his own. O God ! " all things come of thee." The will to pre- sent ourselves must come of thee. Grant that will unto all of us, that we may con- secrate unreservedly every thing to thy service, and yet humbly confess that of thine own alone do we srive thee. SERMON IV. THE HUMILIATION OF THE MAN CHRIST JESUS.* •' And being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross." — Philippians, iL 8. We have been spared to reach once more that solemn season at which our Church directs specially our attention to the sufferings and death of the Re- deemer. There can never, indeed, be the time at which the contemplation of the offering-up of our great high priest is at all out of place. Knowing the foun- dation of every hope, our thoughts should be continually on that substitu- tion of the innocent for the guilty which was made upon Calvary, when he " who did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth," 1 Peter, 2: 22," bare our sins in his own body on the tree." 1 Pet. 2 : 24. It is still, however, most true, that the preaching Christ Jesus and him crucified, requires not, as it consists not in, the perpetual recurrence to the slay- ing of our surety. The preaching of the cross is not, necessarily, that preaching which makes most frequent mention of the cross. That is the preaching of the cross, and that is the preaching of Christ, which makes the crucifixion of the Son of God its groundwork; which offers no mercy, and exhorts to no duty, but on the distinct understandinsr that no * 1 am indebted to Bishop Sherlock for much assistance in handling this and the following subject. THE HUMILIATION OF THE MAN CHRIST JESUS. 41 mercy could be obtained, had not a Me- diator purchased it ; no duty performed, had he not gained for us the power. But when the groundwork has been tho- roughly laid, then, though it behooves us occasionally to refer to first principles, and to examine over again the strength of our basis, it is certainly not our busi- ness to insist continually on the presen- tation of sacrifice; just as if, this one article received, the whole were mas- tered of the creed of a christian. For nothing do we more admire the services of our Church, than for the carefulness displayed that there be no losing sight of the leading doctrines of the faith. It may be said of the Clergy of the Church of England, that they are almost compelled by the Almanac, if not by a sense of the high duties of their calling, to bring successively before their congregations the prominent arti- cles of Christianity. It is not left to their own option, as it comparatively would be if they were not fastened to a ritual, to pass a year without speaking of the Crucifixion, the Resurrection, and Ascension of Christ, of the Trinity of persons in the Godhead, or of the out- pouring of the Spirit. If they be dis- posed to keep any of these matters out of their discourses, the Collects bring the omitted doctrines before the people, and convict the pastors of unfaithful- ness. A dissenting congregation may go on for years, and never once be di- rected to the grand doctrine of the Trinity in Unity. They are dependent on their minister. He may advance what he chooses, and keep back what he chooses; for he selects his own les- sons, as well as his own texts. An es- tablished congregation is not thus de- pendent on its minister. He may be an Unitarian in his heart; but he must be 80 far a Trinitarian to his people as to declare from the desk, even if he keep silence in the pulpit, that " the Catholic faith is this, that we worship one God in Trinity, and Trinity in Unity."* And thus, whatever the objections which may be urged against forms of prayer, we cannot but think that a country with- out a liturgy is a country which lies open to all the incursions of heresy. We obey, then, with thankfulness, the appointment of our Church, which turns our thoughts specially at particular times on particular doctrines ; not at any season excluding their discussion, but providing that, at least once in the year, each should occupy a prominent place. We would lead you, therefore, now to the survey of the humiliation of the man Christ Jesus, and thus take a step in that pilgrimage to Gethsemane and Calvary which, at the present time, is enjoined on the faithful. We bring before you a verse from the well-known passage of Scripture which forms the epistle of the day, and which furnishes some of our strongest argu- ments against those who deny the di- vinity of Christ. It cannot well be dis- puted, whatever the devised subterfuges for avoiding the inferences, that St. Paul speaks of the Mediator in three different states ; a state of glory, when he wa.s " in the form of God ; ' a state of hu- miliation, when he assumed " the form of a servant ; " a state of exaltation, when there was " given him a name which is above every name." It is fur- ther evident, that the state of glory preceded the state of humiliation ; so that Christ must have pre-existed in the form of God, and not have begun to exist when appearing on earth in the form of a servant. Indeed the apostle is inculcating humility, and enforcing his exhortation by the example of the Savior. "Let this mind be in you Avhicli was also in Christ Jesus." You can re- quire no proof that the strength of this exhortation lies in the fact, that Christ displayed a vast humility in consenting to become man ; and that it were to take from it all power, and all meaning, to suppose him nothing more than a man. It is surely no act of humility to be a man ; and no individual can set an example of humility by the mere being a man. But if one who pre-exists in an- other rank of intelligence become a man, then, but not otherwise, there may be humility, and consequently ex- ample, in his manhood. We can, however, only suggest these points to your consideration, desiring that you may be led to give to the whole passage that attention which it * Athanasian Creed. 42 THE HUMILIATION OP THE MAN CHRIST JESUS. singularly deserves. We must confine ourselves to the single verse which w^e have selected as our text, and which, in itself, is so full of information that there may be difficulty in giving to each -part the requisite notice. The verse refers to the Redeemer in his humiliation, but cannot, as we shall find, be fairly interpreted without taking for granted his pre-existent glory. St. Paul, you observe, speaks of Christ as " found in fashion as a man," and as then humbling himself, so as to become " obedient unto death, even the death of the cross." It will be well that we advance a few remarks on the phrase " found in fashion as a man," before we consider that act of humility here as- cribed to the Savior. Now the true humanity of the Son of God is as fundamental an article of Christianity as his true divinity. You would as effectually demolish our reli- gion by proving that Christ was not real man, as by proving that Christ was not real God. We must have a mediator between God and man; and " a media- tor is not amediator of one," Gal. 3 : 20, but must partake of the nature of each. Shall we ever hesitate to pronounce it the comforting and sustaining thing to the followers of Christ, that the Re- deemer is, in the strictest sense, their kinsman 1 We may often be required, in the exercise of the office of an am- bassador from God, to set ourselves against what we count erroneous doc- trines touching the humanity of the Sa- vior. But shall it, on this account, be supposed that we either underrate, or keep out of sight, this mighty truth of Ghx-istianity, that the Son of God be- came as truly, and as literally, man, as I myself am man. We cannot, and we will not, allow that there was in him that fountain of evil which there is in ourselves. We contend that the ab- sence of the fountain, and not the mere prevention of the outbreak of its waters, is indispensable to the constitution of such purity as belonged to the holy child Jesus. But that he was like my- self in all points, my sinfulness only ex- cepted; that his flesh, like mine, could be lacerated by stripes, wasted by hun- ger, and torn by nails ; that his soul, like mine, could be assaulted by temp- tation, harassed by Satan, and disquiet- ed under the hidings of the countenance of the Father ; that he could suffer e've- ry thing which I can suffer, except the remorse of a guilty conscience ; that he could weep every tear which I can weep, except the tear of repentance ; that he could fear with every fear, hope with every hope, and joy with every, joy, which I may entertain as a man, and not be ashamed of as a Christian; there is our creed on the humanity of the Mediator. If you could once prove that Christ was not perfect man — bear- ing always in mind that sinfulness is not essential to this perfectness — there would be nothing worth battling for in the truth that Christ was perfect God : the only Redeemer who can redeem, like the Goel under the law, my lost heritage, being necessarily my kins- man ; and none being my kinsman who is not of the same nature, born of a wo- man, of the substance of that woman, my brother in all but rebellion, myself in all but unholiness. We are bound, therefore, to examine, with all care, expressions which refer to the humanity of the Savior, and es- pecially those \vhich may carry the ap- pearance of impugning its reality. Now it is remarkable, and could not be with- out design, that St. Paul uses words which go not directly to the fact of the reality of the humanity, but which might almost be thought to evade that fact. He does not broadly and roundly assert, that Christ was man. He takes what, at least, may be called a circuit- ous method, and uses three expressions, all similar, but none direct. " Took up- on him the form of a servant." " Was made in the likeness of men." " Being found in fashion as a man." There must, we say, have been some weighty reason with the apostle why he should, as it were, have avoided the distinct men- tion of Christ's manhood, and have em- ployed language which, to a certain ex- tent, is ambiguous. Why speak of the " form of a servant," or the " likeness of men," and of " being found in fashion as a man," when he wished to convey the idea that Christ was actually a §^er- vant, and literally a man ? We will, first of all, show you that these expressions, however apparently vague and indefinite, could never have been intended to bring into question the reality of Christ's humility. The apos- tle employs precisely the same kind of THE HUMILIATION OF THE MAN CHRIST JESUS. 43 language m reference to Christ's divi- nity. He had before said of the Savior, " who being in xh.efor7n of God." If then " the likeness of men," or " the form of a servant," implied that Christ w^as not really man, or not really a servant, " the form of God" would imply that he was not really God. The several expres- sions must have a similar interpreta- tion. And if, therefore, Christ was not really man, Christ was not really God; and what then was he 1 Neither man, nor God is a conclusion for which no heretic is prepared. All admit that he was God separately, or man separately, or God and man conjointly. And there- fore the expressions, " form of God," " form of a servant," must mean lite- rally God, and literally a servant ; other- wise Christ was neither divine nor hu- man, but a phantom of both, and there- fore a nothing. So that, whatever St. Paul's reasons for employing this kind of expression, you see at once that, since he uses it alike, whether in refer- ence to the connection of Christ with divinity, or to that with humanity, it can take off nothing from the reality of either the manhood or the Godhead. If it took from one, it must take equally from both. And thus Christ would be left without any Subsistence — a conclu- sion too monstrous for that most credu- lous of all things — scepticism. We are certain, therefore — inasmuch as the alternative is an absurdity which waits not for refutation — that when St. Paul asserts of Christ that he was " found in fashion as a man," he intends nothing at variance with the doctrine of the real humanity of the Savior. He points him out as actually man ; though, for reasons which remain to be investi- gated, he adopts the phrase, " the fa- shion of a man." Now it cannot, we think, be doubted that an opposition is designed between the expressions " in the form of God," and " found in fashion as a man," and that we shall understand the intent of the latter only through possessing our- selves of that of the former. If you con- sult your Bibles, you will perceive the representation of St, Paul to be, that it was " the form of God " of which Christ emptied himself, or which Christ laid aside, when condescending to be born of a woman. " Who being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God; but made himself of no reputation, (so we render it, but li- terally it is ' emptied himself,') and took upon him the form of a servant." It was, therefore, " the form of God " which Christ laid aside. He was still God, and could not, for a lonely instant, cease to be God, But he did not appear as God. He put from him, or he veiled, those effulgent demonstrations of Deity which had commanded the homage, and called forth the admiration of the celes- tial hierarchy. And though he was, all the while, God, God as truly, and as ac- tually, as when, in the might of mani-r, fested Omnipotence, he filled infinite space with glorious masses of architec- ture, still he so restrained the blazings of Divinity that he could not, in the same sense, be known as God, but want- ed the form whilst retaining the essence. He divested himself, then, of the form of God, and assumed, in its stead, the form or fashion of a man. Heretofore, he had both been, and appeared to be God. Now he was God, but appeared as a man. The very being who had daz- zled the heavenly hosts in the foim of God, walked the earth in the form and fashion of a man. Such, we think, is a fair account of the particular phrase- ology which St. Paul employs. The apostle is speaking of Christ as more than man. Had Christ been only man, how preposterous to say of him, that he was " found in fashion as a man." What other fashion, what other out- ward appearance, can a mere man pre- sent, but the fashion, the outward ap- pearance of a man 1 But if Christ were God, and yet appeared as man, there is perfect accuracy in the statement that he was " found in fashion as a man; " and we can understand, readily enough, how he who never ceased, and could not cease to be God, might, at one time, manifest divinity in the form of God, and, at another, shroud that divinity in the form of a servant. We would pause yet a moment on this point, for it is worth your closest attention. We are told that Christ " emptied himself," so that " though he was rich, yet for our sakes he became poor." 2 Cor. 8 : 9. But of what did he empty himself 1 Not of his being, not of his nature, not of his attributes. It must be blasphemous to speak of pro- perties of Godhead as laid aside, or 44 THE HUMILIATION OF THE MAN CHRIST JESUS. even suspended. But Christ ** emptied himself" of the glories and the majes- ties to which he had claim, and which, as he sat on the throne of the heavens, he possessed in unmeasured abundance. Whatsoever he was as to nature and essence, whilst appearing amongst the angels in the form of God, that he con- tinued to be still, when, in the form of a servant, he walked the scenes of hu- man habitation. But then the glories of the form of God, these for a while he altogether abandoned. If indeed he had appeared upon earth — as, according to the dignity of his nature, he had right to appear — in the majesty and glory of the Highest, it might be hard to under- stand what riches had been lost by di- vinity. The scene of display would have been changed. But the splendor f)f display being unshorn and undimin- ished, the armies of the sky might have consfreorated round the Mediator, and have given in their full tale of homage and admiration. But, oh, it was poverty that the Creator should be moving on a province of his own empire, and yet not be recognized nor confessed by his creatures. It was poverty that, when he walked amongst men, scattering blessings as he trode, the anthem of praise floated not around him, and the air was often burdened with the curse and the blasphemy. It was poverty that, as he passed to and fro through tribes whom he had made, and whom he had come down to redeem, scarce a soli- tary voice called him blessed, scarce a solitary hand was stretched out in friendship, and scarce a solitary roof ever proffered him shelter. And when you contrast this deep and desolate po- verty with that exuberant wealth which had been always his own, whilst heaven continued the scene of his manifesta- tions — the wealth of the anthem-peal of ecstasy from a million rich voices, and of the solemn bowing down of sparkling multitudes, and of the glow- ing homage of immortal hierarchies, whensoever he showed forth his power or his purposes — ye cannot fail to per- ceive that, in taking upon him flesh, the Eternal Son descended, most literally, from abundance to want; and that, though he continued just as mighty as before, just as infinitely gifted with all the stores and resources of essential di- vinity, the transition was so total, from the reaping-in of glory from the whole field of the universe to the receiving, comparatively, nothing of his revenues of honor, that we may assert, without reserve, and without figure, that he who was rich, for our sakes became poor. " In the form of God," he had acted as it were, visibly, amid the en- raptured plaudits of angel and arch- angel, cherubim and seraphim. But now, in the form of man, he must be withdrawn from the delighted inspec- tions of the occupants of heaven, and act, as powerfully indeed as before, but mysteriously and invisibly, behind a dark curtain of flesh, and on the dreary platform of a sin-burdened territory. So that the antithesis, "the form of God," and •' found in fashion as a man," marks accurately the change to which the Mediator submitted. And thus, whilst on our former showings, there is no impeachment, in the phrase, of the reality of Christ's humanity, we now exract from the description a clear witness to the divinity of Jesus, and show you that a form of speech which seems, at first sight, vague and indefi- nite, was, if not rendered unavoidable, yet readily dictated, by the union of natures in the person of the Redeemer. But we will now pass on to consider that act of humility which is ascribed in our text to Christ Jesus. *' Being found in fashion as a man, he humhlea himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross." Now we would have it observed — ^for some of the greatest truths in theology depend on the fact — that the apostle is here speaking of what Christ did after he had assumed humanity, and not oi what he did in assuming humanity. There was an act of humiliation, such as mortal thought cannot compass, in the coming down of Deity, and his tabernacling in flesh. We may well ex- claim, wonder, O heavens, and be aston- ished, O earth, when we remember that He whom the universe cannot contain, did, literally, condescend to circum- scribe himself within the form of a ser- vant ; and that in no figure of speech, but in absolute, though mysterious re- ality, " the Word was made flesh," St. John, 1 : 14, and the Son of the High- est born of a pure virgin. We shall never find terms in which to embody even our own conceptions of this un- THE HUMILIATION OF THE MAN CHRIST JESUS. 45 measured humiliation ; whilst these con- i ceptions themselves leave altogether unapproached the boundary lines of the wonder. Who can " by searching find out God ? " Job, 11:7. Who, then, by striving can calculate the abasement that God should become man 1 If I could climb to Deity, I might know what it was for Deity to descend into dust. But forasmuch as God is inac- cessible to all my soarings, it can never come within the compass of my imagi- nation to tell up the amount of conde- scension ; and it will always remain a prodigy, too large for every thing but faith, that the Creator coalesced with the creature, and so constituted a mediator. But it is not to this act of humilia- tion that our text bears reference. This was the humiliation in the assumption of humanity. But after humanity had been assumed, when Christ was " found in fashion as a man," he yet further humbled himself; so that, over and above the humiliation as God, there was an humiliation as man. And it is on this fact that we would fasten your at- tention. You ai'e to view the Son of God as havinor brousfht himself down to the level of humanity, as having laid aside his dignities, and taken part of the flesh and the blood of those whom he yearned to redeem. But then you are not to consider that the humiliation ended here. You are not to suppose that whatsoever came after was wound up, so to speak, in the original humilia- tion, and thus was nothing more than its fuller developement. God humbled himself, and became man. But there was yet a lower depth to which this first humiliation did not necessarily carry him. " Being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself." The apostle does not leave us to con- jecture in what this second humiliation mainly consisted. He represents it as submission to death, " even the death of the cross." So that, after becom- ing man, it was "humbling himself" to yield to that sentence from which no man is exempted. It was " humbling him- self," to die at all ; it was " humbling himself" still more, to die ignominiously. We v/ill examine successively these statements, and the conclusions to which they naturally lead. It was humility in Christ to die at alL Who then was this mysterious man of whom it can be said that he humbled himself in dying ? Who can that man be, in whom that was humility which, in others, is necessity 1 Has there ever been the individual amongst the natu- ral descendants of Adam, however rare his endowments or splendid his achieve- ments, however illustrious by the might of heroism, or endeared by the warmth of philanthropy, of whom we could say that it was humility in him to die 1 It were as just to say that it was humility in him to have had only five senses, as that it was humility in him to die. The most exalted piety, the nearest ap- proaches to perfection of character, the widest distances between himself and all others of the race ; these, and a hundred the like reasons, would never induce us to give harborage, for an in- stant, to the thought that a man stood exempt from the lot of humanity, or that it was left, in any sense, to his option whether or no he would die. And, therefore, if there be a strong me- thod of marking off" a man from the crowd of the human species, and of dis- tinguishing him fi-om all who bear the same outward appearance, in some mightier respects than those of a men- tal or moral superiority, is it not the ascribing to him what we may call a lordship over life, or the repi-esenting him as so literally at liberty to live, that it shall be humility in him to die 1 We hold it for an incontrovertible truth, that, had St. Paul said nothing of the pre-existent glory of our Mediator, there would have been enough in the expression of our text to satisfy unpre- judiced minds that a mere man, such as one of ourselves, could be no just description cf the Lord Christ Jesus, If it were humility in the man to die, there must have been a power in the man of refusing to die. If, in becoming " obedient unto death," the man "hum- bled himself," there can be no debate that liis dying was a voluntary act ; and that, had he chosen to decline submis- sion to the rending asunder of soul and body, he might have continued to this day, unworn by disease, unbroken by age, the immortal man, the indestruc- tible flesh. We can gather nothing from such form of expression, but that it would have been quite possible for the Mediator to have upheld, through long cycles, undecayed his humanity, and to 46 THE HUMILIATION OP THE MAN CHRIST JESUS. have preserved it stanch and unbroken, whilst generation after generation rose, and flourished, and fell. He in whom it was humility to die, must have been one who could have resisted, through a succession of ages, the approaches of death, and thus have still trodden our earth, the child of centuries past, the heir of centuries to come. We plead for it as a most simple and necessary deduction, and we deny alto- gether that it is a harsh and overstrain- ed inference, from the fact that the man Christ Jesus humbled himself in dying, that the man vv^as more than man, and that a nature, higher than human, yea, even divine, belonged to his person. We can advance no other account of such an act of humility. If you were even to say that the second Adam was, in evei-y respect, just such a man as the first, ere evil entered, and, with it, ob- noxiousness to death, you would intro- duce greater difficulties than the one to be removed. You may say that if, for the sake of winning some advantage to his posterity, Adam, whilst yet un- fallen, and therefore, without " the sen- tence of death," 2 Cor. 1 :2, in his mem- bers, had consented to die, he would, strictly speaking, have humbled him- self in dying; and that consequent- ly Christ, supposing him sinless like Adam, and therefore, under no necessir ty of death, might have displayed hu- mility in consenting to die, and yet not thereby have proved himself divine as well as human. We are not disposed to controvert the statement. So far as we can judge — though we have some jealousy of allowing that a mere crea- ture can humble himself in executing God's work — it may be true, that, had the man Christ Jesus been, in every re- spect, sin^ilar to the unfallen Adam, there might have been humility in his dying, and yet no divinity in his person. But then we strenuously set our- selves against such a false and perni- cious view of the Savior's humanity. We will admit that a Papist, but we deny that a Protestant can, without doing utter violence to his creed, main- tain that in every respect Christ re- sembled the unfallen Adam, The Pa- pist entertains extravagant notions of the virgin-mother of our Lord. He sup- poses her to have been immaculate, and free from original corruption. The Protestant, on the contrary, withhold- ing not from Mary due honor and es- teem, classes her, in every sense, amongst the daughters of man, and be- lieves that, whatever her superior love- liness of character, she had her full share of the pollution of our nature. Now it may consist well enough with the Papist's theory, but it is wholly at variance with the Protestant's, to sup- pose that the man Jesus, made of the substance of his mother, had a human- ity, like that of Adam, free from infir- mity as well as from sinful propensity. And we can never bring up the human- ity of Christ into exact sameness with the humanity of Adam, without either overthrowing the fundamental article of faith, that the Redeemer was the seed of the woman, or ascribing to hi» mother such preternatural purity as makes her own birth as mysterious as her son's. We should pause, for a moment, in our argument, and speak on the point of the Savior's humanity. We are told that Christ's humanity was in every respect the same as our own humanity ; fallen, therefore, as ours is fallen. But Christ, as not being one of the natural descendants of Adam, was not included in the covenant made with, and viola- ted by, our common father. Hence his humanity was the solitary exception, the only humanity which became not fallen humanity, as a consequence on apostacy. If a man be a fallen man, he must have fallen in Adam ; in other words, he must be one of those whom Adam federally represented. But Christ, as being emphatically the seed of the woman, was not thus federally repre- sented ; and therefore Christ fell not, as we fell in Adam. He had not been a party to the broken covenant, and thus could not be a sharer in the guilty con- sequences of the infraction. But, nevertheless, while we argue that Christ was not what is termed a fallen man, we contend that, since " made of a woman," Galatians, 4 ; 4, he was as truly " man, of the substance of his mother," * as any one amongst Athanasian Creed. THE HUMILIATION OP THE MAN CHRIST JESUS. 47 ourselves, the weakest and most sinful. He was " made of a woman," and not a new creation, like Adam in Paradise. When we say that Christ's humanity was unfallen, we are far enough from saying that his humanity was the same as that of Adam, before Adam trans- gressed. He took humanity with all those innocent infirmities, but without any of those sinful propensities, which the fall entailed. There are consequen- ces on guilt which are perfectly guilt- less. Sin introduced pain, but pain it- self is not sin. And therefore Christ, as being " man, of the substance of his mother," derived from her a suffering humanity; but as "conceived by the Holy Ghost,"* he did not derive a sinful. Fallen humanity denotes a hu- manity which has descended from a state of moral purity to one of moral impurity. And so long as there has not been this descent, humanity may re- main unfallen, and yet pass from physi- cal strength to physical weakness. This is exactly what we hold on the humani- ty of the Son of God. We do not as- sert that Christ's humanity was the Adamic humanity ; the humanity, that is, of Adam whilst still loyal to Jeho- vah. Had this humanity been reprodu- ced, there must have been an act of creation ; whereas, beyond controver- sy, Christ was " made of a woman," and not created, like Adam, by an act of omnipotence. And allowing that Christ's humanity was not the Adamic, of course we allow that there were con- sequences of the fall of which it par- took. We divide, therefore, these con- sequences into innocent infirmities, and sinful propensities. From both was Adam's humanity free before, and with both was it endowed after, transgres- sion. Hence it is enough to have ei- ther, and the humanity is broadly dis- tinguished from the Adamic. Now Christ took humanity with the inno- cent infirmities. He derived humanity from his mother. Bone of her bone, and flesh of her flesh, like her he could hunger, and thirst, and weep, and mourn, and writhe, and die. But whilst he took humanity with the innocent infirmities, he did not take it with the sinful propensities. Here Deity inter- posed. The Holy Ghost overshadowed the Virgin, and, allowing weakness to be derived from her, forbade wicked- ness ; and so caused that there should, be generated a soiTOwing and a suffer- ing humanity, but nevertheless an un- defiled and a spotless ; a humanity with tears, but not with stains; accessible to anguish, but not prone to offend; allied most closely with the produced misery, but infinitely removed from the producing cause. So that we hold — and we give it you as what we believe the orthodox doctrine — that Christ's humanity was not the Adamic humani- ty, that is, the humanity of Adam be- fore the fall ; nor fallen humanity, that is, in every respect the humanity of Adam after the fall. It was not the Ad- amic, because it had the innocent infir- mities of the fallen. It was not the fallen, because it had never descended into moral impurity. It was, therefore, most literally our humanity, but with- out sin. " Made of a woman," Christ derived all from his mother that we derive, except sinfulness. And this he derived not, because Deity, in the per- son of the Holy Ghost, interposed be- tween the child and the pollution of the parent. But we now recur to the subject- matter of discussion. We may consi- der our position untouched, that since a man "made of a woman," humbled himself in dying, he must have had an- other nature which gave him such pow- er over the human, that he might either yield to, or resist, its infirmities. Christ took our nature with its infirmities. And to die is one of these infirmities, just as it is to hunger, or to thirst, or to be weary. There is no sin in dying. It is, indeed, a consequence on sin. But consequences may be endured without share in the cause ; so that Christ could take flesh which had in it a ten- dency to death, but no tendency to sin. It is not saying that Christ's flesh was sinful like our own, to say that it was corruptible like our own. There might be eradicated all the tendencies to the doing wrong, and still be left all the physical entailments of the wrong done by another. And no man can read the prophecy, "thou wilt not leave my Apostles' Creed. 48 THE HUMILIATION OF THE MAN CHRIST JESUS. soul in hell, neither wilt thou suffer thine Holy One to see corruption," Psalm 16 : 10, without perceiving that there was no natural incorruptibility, and, therefore, no natural deathlessness in the flesh of Christ Jesus ; for if the flesh had been naturally incorruptible, and, therefore, naturally deathless, how could God be represented as providing that this flesh should not remain so long in the grave as " too see corrup- tion ? " The prophecy has no meaning, if it be denied that Christ's body would have corrupted, had it continued in the sepulchre. We may assert, then, that in Christ's humanity, as in our own, there was a tendency to dissolution ; a tendency re- sulting from entailed infirmities which were innocent, but in no degree from sinfulness, whether derived or con- tracted. But as the second person in the Trinity, the Lord of life and glory, Christ Jesus possessed an unlimited control over this tendency, and might, had he pleased, for ever have suspend- ed, or for ever have counteracted it. And herein lay the alleged act of hu- mility. Christ was unquestionably mor- tal ; otherwise it is most clear that he could not have died at all. But it is to the full as unquestionable that he must have been more than mortal ; other- wise death was unavoidable ; and where can be the humility of submitting to that which we have no power of avoid- ing 1 As mere man, he was mortal. But then as God, the well-spring of life to the population of the universe, he could forever have withstood the ad- vances of death, and have refused it do- minion in his own divine person. But *'he humbled himself." In order that there might come down upon him the fulness of the wrath-cup, and that he might exhaust the penalties which roll- ed, like a sea of fire, between earth and heaven, he allowed scope to that liable- iiess to death which he might for ever have arrested ; and died, not through any necessity, but through the act ''of his own will; died, inasmuch as his humanity was mortal ; died voluntarily, inasmuch as his person was divine. And this was humility. If, on becom- ing man, he had ceased to be God, there would have been no humility in his death. He would only have submit- ted to what he could not have declin- ed. But since, on becoming what he was not, he ceased not to be what he was, he brought down into the fashion of man all the life-giving energies which appertained to him as God ; and he stood on the earth, the wondrous combination of two natures in one per- son ; the one nature infirm and tending to decay, the other self-existent, and the source of all being throughout a crowded immensity. And the one nature might have eter- nally kept up the other; and, with- standing the inroads of disease, and pouring in fresh supplies of vitality, have given undecaying vigor to the mortal, perpetual youth to the cornip- tible. But how then could the Scrip- tures have been fulfilled; and wheie would have been the expiation for the sins of a burdened and groaning ci-ea- tion 1 It was an act of humility — the tongue, we have told you, cannot ex- press it, and the thought cannot com- pass it — that, "for us men and for our salvation," the Eternal Word consent- ed to " be made flesh." God became man. It was stupendous humility. But he was not yet low enough. The man must humble himself, humble himself even unto death ; for " without shed- ding of blood is no remission." He- brews, 9 : 22. And he did humble him- self Death was avoidable, but he sub- mitted ; the grave might have been overstepped, but he entered. It would not have been the working out of human redemption, and the mil- lions with whom he had entered into brotherhood would have remained un- delivered from their thraldom to Satan, had Ueity simply united itself to hu- manity, and then upheld humanity so as to enable it to defy its great enemy, death. Thei-e lay a curse on the earth's population, and he who would be their surety must do more than take their nature — ^lie must carry it through the darkness and the fearfulness of the real- ized malediction. But what else was this but a fresh act of humility, a new and unlimited stretch of condescen- sion 1 Even whilst on earth, and cloth- ed round with human flesh and blood, Chi-ist Jesus was still that great " I am," who sustains " all things by the word of his power," Hebrews, 1 : 3, and out of whose fulness every rank of created intelligence hath, from the beginning. THE HUMILIATION OF THE MAN CHRIST JESUS. 419 drawn the elements of existence. And therefore, though " found in fashion as a man," he was all along infinitely su- perior to the necessity of human na- ture ; and, being able to lay down life and to take it again at pleasure, was only subject to death because deter- mining to die. It was then humility to die. It was the voluntary submission to a curse. It was a free-will descent from the high privilege of bearing on humanity through the falling myri- ads of successive generations, and of strengthening it to walk as the denizen of eternity, whilst there went forward unresisted, on the right hand and on the left, the mowing-down the species. And when, therefore, you would de- scribe the humiliation of the Son of God, think not that you have opened the depths of abasement, when you have shown him exchanging the throne of light, and the glory which he had with the Father, for a tabernacle of flesh, and companionship with the re- bel. He went down a second abyss, we had almost said, as fathomless as the first. From heaven to earth, who shall measure it] But when on eaith, when a man, there was the whole precipice of God's curse, not one hair-breadth of which was he necessitated to descend. And when, therefore, he threw himself over this precipice, and sank into the grave, who will deny that there was a new and overwhelming display of con- descension ; that there was performed by the God-man, evea as there had been by the God, an act of self-humiliation to which we can find no pai-allel ; and that, consequently, " being found in fashion as a man, Christ hnmhled him- self, and became obedient unto deatli 1 " But this is not all. You have not yet completed the survey of the Mediator's humiliation. It was wonderful self-abasement that he should choose to die. But the man- ner of the death makes the humility a thousand fold more apparent. " He be- came obedient unto death, even the death of the cross." We wish it observ- ed that Christ Jesus was not insensible to ignominy and disgrace. He submit- ted ; but, oh, he felt acutely and bitter- ly. You c;innot cause a sharper pang to an ingenuous aiul upright mind than by the imputal . • 1 rime. The conscious- nsss of inu.....j only heightens the smart. It is the guilty man who cares only for the being condemned — the guiltless is pierced through and through by the being accused. And let it never be thought that the humanity of the Son of God, holy and undefiled as it was, possessed not this sensitiveness to disgrace. " Be ye come out as a- gainst a thief, with swords and staves ] " St. Luke, 22 : 52, was a remonstrance which clearly showed that he felt keen- ly the shame of unjust and ruffianly treatment. And as if it were not hu- miliation enough to die, shall he, with all this sensitiveness to disgrace, die the death which was, of all others, ig- nominious '? a death appropriated to the basest condition of the worst men, and unworthy of a free man, whatever the amount of his guiltiness 1 Shall the separation of soul from body be eftect- ed by an execution to which none wei"e doomed but the most wretched of slaves, or the most abandoned of mis- creants ; by a punishment, too inhuman indeed to find place in the Jewish code, but the nearest approach to which, the hanging up the dead bodies of crimi- nals, was held so infamous and execra- ble, that the fearful phrase, " accursed by God," was applied to all thus sen- tenced and used '] We speak of nothing but the shame of the cross ; for it Wcis the shame which gave display to humi- lity. And we are bold to say, that, after the condescension of God in becoming man, after the condescension of the God-man in consenting to die, there was an act of condescension, scarce in- ferior to the others, in that the death was " the death of the cross. " He who humbled himself in dying at all, hum- bled himself unspeakably more in dying as a malefactor. It would have been humility had he who was exempt from the necessity of our nature consented to fall, as heroes fall, amid the tears of a grateful people, and the applauses of an admiring world. It would have been humility had he breathed out his soul on the regal couch, and far-spreading tribes had felt themselves orphaned. But to be suspended as a spectacle be- tween heaven and earth; to die a lin- gering death, exposed to the tauntings and revilings of a profligate multitude, " all they that see me laugh me to scorn ; they shoot out the lip, they shake the heaxi ;" Psalm 22 : 7 ; to be " numbered 7 60 THE HUMILIATION OP THE MAN CHRIST JESUS. with the transgressors," Isaiah, 53 : 12, I and expire amid the derision and de- spite of his own kinsmen after the flesh ; if tiie other were humiUty, how shall we describe this 1 Yet to this, even to this, did the Mediator condescend. " He endured," says St, Paul, " the cross, desjusing the shame." Hebrews, 12 : 2. He i'elt the shame ; otherwise there was nothing memorable in his bringing himself to despise it. He despised it, not as feeling it no evil, but as making it of no account when set against the glorious results which its endurance would effect. For it was not only ne- cessary that he should die, it was also necessary that he should die ignomini- ously. He must die as a criminal ; we wish you to observe that. He was to die as man's substitute ; and man was a criminal, yea, the very basest. So that death by public sentence, death as a malefactor, may be said to have been required from a surety who stood in the place of traitors, with all their trea- son on his shoulders. The shame of the cross was not gratuitous. It was not enough that the substitute humbled himself to death ; he must humble him- self to a shameful death. And Christ Jesus did this. He could say, in the pa- thetic words of prophecy, " I hid not my face from shame and spitting." Isa. 60 : 6. And shall we doubt, that, man as he was, keenly alive to unmerited disgrace, the indignities of his death added loathsomeness to the cup which he had undertaken to drink ; and shall we not then confess that there was an humiliation in the mode of dying, over and above that of taking flesh, and that of permitting himself to be mortal — so that the apostle's words are vindi- cated in their every letter, " being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of tlie cross 1 " We can only, in conclusion, press on you the exhortation of St. Paul : " Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus." He died to make atone- ment, but he died also to set a pattern. Shall selfishness find patrons amongst you when you have gazed on this exam- ple of disinterestedness 1 Shall pride be harbored after you have seen Deity humbling himself, and then, as man, abasing himself, till there was no lower point to which he could descend ] And all this for us ; for you, for me ; for the vile, for the reprobate, for the lost ! And what return do we make 1 Alas ! for the neglect, the contempt, the cold- ness, the formality, which he who hum- bled himself, and agonized, and died the death of shame on our behalf, receives at our hands. Which of us is faithfully taking pattern 1 Which of us, I do not say, has mastered and ejected pride, bnt is setting himself in good earnest, and with all the energy which might be brought to the work, to the wrestling with pride and sweeping it from the breast 1 would to God that this pas- sion-season may leave us more humble, more self-denying, more disposed to bear one another's burdens, than it finds us. Would to God that it may write, more deeply than ever on our hearts, the doctrine which is the alone engine against the haughtiness and self-suffi- ciency of the fallen, that the Mediator between earth aud heaven was " per- fect God and perfect man." * There must be Deity in the rock which could bear up a foundered world. May none of you forget this. The young amongst you more especially, keep ye this dili- gently in mind. I have lived much amid the choicest assemblies of the literary youth of our land, and I know full well how commonly the pride of talent, or the appetite for novelty, or the desire to be singular, or the aversion from what is holy, will cause an unstable mind to yield itself to the specious so- phistry, or the licentious effi'ontery, of sceptical writings. I pray God that none of you be drawn within the ed- dies of that whirlpool of infidelity, which rends into a thousand shivers the noblest barks, freighted with a rich lading of intellect and learning. Be ye watchful alike against the dogmas of an indolent reasoning, and the syren strains of a voluptuous poetry, and the fiendlike sneers of reprobate men, and the polished cavils of fashionable con- tempt. Let none of these seduce or scare you from the simplicity of the faith, and breathe blightingly on your allegiance, and shrivel you into that * Athanasian Creed. THE DOCTRINE OP THE RESURRECTION. 6i withered and sapless thing, the disciple of a creed which owns not divinity in Christ. If I durst choose between poison-cups, I would take Deism rather than Socinianism. It seems better to reject as forgery, than, having received as truth, to drain of meaning, to use, without reserve, the sponge and the thumb-screw; the one, when passages are too plain for controversy, the other when against us, till unmercifully tor- tured. May you all see that, unless a Mediator, more than human, had stood in the gap to stay the plague, the penal- ties of a broken law, unsatisfied through eternity, must have entered like fiery arrows, and scathed and maddened each descendant of Adam. May you all learn to use the doctrine of the atonement as the basis of hope, and the motive to holiness. Thus shall this passion-season be a new starting-point to all of us ; to those who have never entered on a hea- venward course ; to those who have entered, and then loitered ; so that none, at last, may occupy the strange and fearful position of men for whom a Savior died, but died in vain. SERMON V. THE DOCTRINE OF THE RESURRECTION VIEWED IN CONNEC- TION WITH THAT OF THE SOUL'S IMMORTALITY. <* Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection and the life." — John, xi. 25. There is perhaps no narrative in the New Testament more deeply interest- ing than that of the raising of Lazarus. It was nearly the last miracle which Jesus performed while sojourning on earth ; and, as though intended for a great seal of his mission, you find the Savior preparing himself, with extraoi-- dinary care, for this exhibition of his power. He had indeed on two other occasions raised the dead. The daugh- ter of Jairus, and the widow's son of Nain, had both, at his bidding, been re- stored to life. But you will remember, that, with regard to the former, Christ had used the expression, " the damsel is not dead, but sleepeth : " Mark, 5 : 39 : and that, probably, the latter had been only a short time deceased when car- ried out for burial. Hence, in neither case, was the evidence that death had taken place, and that the party was not in a trance, so clear and decisive that no room was left for the cavils of the sceptic. And accordingly there is ground of doubt whether the apostles themselves were thoroughly convinced of Christ's power over death ; whether, that is, they believed him able to re- cover life when once totally and truly extinguished. At least, you will observe, that, when told that Lazarus was actu- ally dead, they were filled with soitow ; and that, when Christ said that he would go and awaken him from sleep, they re- solved indeed to accompany their Mas- ter, but expected rather to be them- selves stoned by the Jews, than to see their friend brought back from the sepulchre. We may suppose, therefore, that it was with the design of furnishing an irresistible demonstration of his power, that, after hearing of the illness of La- 52 THE DOOTRINE OF THE RESURRECTION. zarus, Jesus tariied two days in the place where the message had found him. He loved Lazarus, and Martha and Mary his sisters. It must then have been the dictate of affection that he should hast- en to the distressed family as soon as informed of their affliction. But had he reached Bethany before Lazarus expir- ed, or soon after the catastrophe had occurred, we may readily see that the same objection might have been ui'ged against the miracle of restoration, as in the other instances in which the grave had been deprived of its prey. There would not have been incontrovertible proof of actual death; and neither, therefore, would there have been in- controvertible proof that Jesus was " the prince of life." Acts, 3: 15. But, by so delaying his journey that he ar- rived not at Bethany until Lazarus had been four days dead, Christ cut off all occasion of cavil, and, rendering it un- deniable that the soul had been sepa- rated from the body, rendered it equally undeniable, when he had wrought the miracle, that he possessed the power of re-uniting the two. As Jesus approached Bethany, he was met by Martha, who seems to have en- tertained some indistinct apprehension that his prevalence with God, if not his own might, rendered possible, even then, the restoration of her brother. " I know that, even now, whatsoever thou wilt ask of God, God will give it thee." This drew from Jesus the saying, " thy brother shall rise again." The resur- rection of the body was, at this time, an article of the national creed, being confessed by the great mass of the Jews, though denied by the Sadducees. Hence Martha had no difficulty in assenting to what Jesus declared ; though she plain- ly implied that she both wished and hoped something more on behalf of her brother. " I know that he shall rise again in the resurrection, at the last day." And now it was, that, in order to obtain a precise declaration of faith in his power, Jesus addressed Martha in the words of our text, words of an ex- traordinary beauty and solemnity, put by the Church into the mouth of the minister, as he meets the sorrowing band who bear a bi-other, or a sister, to the long home appointed for our race. Jesus said unto her, •' I am the resur- xection and the life." Martha luad ex- pressed frankly her belief in a general resurrection ; but she seemed not to as- sociate this resurrection with Jesus as a cause and an agent. The Redeemer, therefore, gathers, as it were, the gene- ral resurrection into Himself; and, as though asserting that all men shall in- deed rise, but only through mysterious union with himself, he declares, not that he will effect the resuiTection, sum- moning by his voice the tenantry from the sepulchres, but that he is Himself that resurrection : " I am the resurrec- tion and the life." Now it were beside our purpose to follow further the naiTative of the rais- ing of Lazarus. We have shown you how the words of our text are intro- duced, and we shall find that, when de- tached from the context, they furnish material of thought amply sufficient for a single discourse. It seems to us, that, in claiming such titles as those which are to come un- der review, Christ declared himself the cause and the origin of the immortality of our bodies and souls. In announcing himself as " the resurrection," he must be considered as stating that he alone effects the wondrous result of the cor- ruptible putting on incorruption. In announcing himself as " the life," he equally states that he endows the spirit with its happiness, yea, rather with its existence through eternity. If Christ had only termed himself " the resurrec- tion," we might have considered him as refen-ing merely to the body — as- serting it to be a consequence on his woi"k of mediation that the dust of ages shall again quicken into life. But when He terms himself also " the life," we cannot but suppose a reference to the immortality of the soul, so that this noble and sublime fact is, in some way, associated with the achievements of redemption. We are accustomed, indeed, to think that the immortality of the soul is in- dependent on the atonement ; so that, although had there been no redemption there would have been no resurrection, the principle within us would have re- mained unquenched, subsisting for ever, and for ever accessible to pain and pen- alty. We shall not pause to examine the justice or injustice of the opinion. We shall only remark that the exist- ence of th'j soul is, undoubtedly, as de- THE DOCTRINE OP THE RESURRECTION. 53 pendent upon God as that of the body ; that no spirit, except Deity himself, can be necessarily, and inhez'ently, immor- tal ; and that, if it should please the Almighty to put an arrest on those mo- mentary outgoings of life which flow from himself, and permeate the uni- verse, he would instantly once more be alone in infinity, and one vast bankrupt- cy of being overspread all the provin- ces of creation. There seems no rea- son, if we may thus speak, in the nature of things, why the soul should not die. Her life is a derived and dependent life; and that which is derived and de- pendent may, of course, cease to be, at the will of the author and upholder. And it is far beyond us to ascertain what term of being would have been assigned to the soul, had there arisen no champion and surety of the fallen. We throw ourselves into a region of speculation, across which there runs no discernible pathway, when we inquire whether there would have been an an- nihilation, supposing there had not been a redemption of man. We can only say, that the soul has not, and cannot have, any more than the body, the sources of vitality in herself. We can, therefore, see the possibility, if not prove the certainty, that it is only because " the word was made flesh," John, 1 : 14, and struggled for us and died, that the human spirit is unquench- able, and that the principle, which dis- tinguishes us from the brutes, shall re- tain everlastingly its strength and its majesty. But \vithout travelling into specula- tive questions, we wish to take our text as a revelation, or announcement, of the immortality of the soul ; and to ex- amine how, by joining the terms, resur- rection and life, Christ made up what was wanting in the calculations of na- tural religion, when turned on deter- mining this grand article of faith. Now with this as our chief object of discourse, we shall endeavor, in the first place, to show briefly the accuracy with which Christ may be designated " the Resurrection." We shall then, in the second place, attempt to prove, that the resurrection of the body is a great element in the demonstration of " the life," the immortality of the soul. We begin by reminding you of a fact, not easily overlooked, that the resur- rection is, in the very strictest sense, a consequence on redemption. Had not Christ undertaken the suretyship of our race, there would never have come a time when the dead shall be raised. If there had been no interposition on be- half of the fallen, whatever had become of the souls of men, their bodies must have remained under the tyranny of death. The original curse was a curse of death on the whole man. And it cannot be argued that the curse of the body's death could allow, so long as unrepealed, the body's resurrection. So that we may lay it down as an undisputed truth, that Christ Jesus achieved man's resurrection. He was, emphatically, the Author of man's re- surrection. Without Christ, and apart from that redemption of our nature which he wi'ought out by obedience and suffering, there would have been no resurrection. It is just because the Eternal Son took our nature into union with his own, and endured therein the curse provoked by disobedience, that a time is yet to amve when the buried generations shall throw off" the dis- honors of corruption. But we are ready to allow that the proving Christ the cause, or the author of the resurrection, is not, in strict truth, the proving him that resurrec- tion itself. There must be some broad sense in which it holds good that the resurrection of Christ was the resurrec- tion of all men ; otherwise it would be hard to vindicate the thorough accu- racy of our text. A.nd if you call to mind the statement of St. Paul, " since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead," 1 Cor. 15 : 21, you will perceive that the re- surrection came by Christ, in exactly the same manner as death had come by Adam. Now we know that death came by Adam as the representative of hu- man nature ; and we, therefore, infer that the resurrection came by Christ as the representative of human nature. Retaining always his divine personality, the second person of the Ti'inity took our nature into union with his own; and in all his obedience, and in all his suffering, occupied this nature in the character, and with the properties, of a head. When he obeyed, it was the na- ture, and not a human person which obeyed. When he suffered, it was the 54 THE DOCTRINE OF THE RESURRECTION. nature, and not a human person which suffered. So that, when he died, he died as our head ; and when he rose, he arose also as our head. And thus — keeping up the alleged parallel between Adam and Christ — as every man dies because concerned in the disobedience of the one, so he rises because included in the ransom of the other. Human na- ture having been crucified, and buried, and raised in Jesus, all who partake of this nature, partake of it in the state into which it has been brought by a Mediator, a state of rescue from the power of the grave, and not of a con- tinuance in its dark dishonors. The nature had almost literally died in Adam, and this nature did as literally revive in Christ. Christ carried it through all its scenes of trial, and toil, and temp- tation, up to the closing scene of an- guish and death ; and then he went down in it to the chambers of its lonely slumbers; and there he brake into shivers the chain which bound it and kept it motionless ; and he brought it triumphantly back, the mortal immor- talized, the decaying imperishable, and " I am the Resurrection," was then the proclamation to a wondering universe. We trench not, in the smallest de- gree, on the special privileges of the godly, when we assert that there is a link which unites Christ with every in- dividual of the vast family of man, and that, in virtue of this link, the graves of the earth shall, at the last day, be rifled of their tenantry. The assertion is that of St. Paul : " Forasmuch then as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, he also himself likewise took part of the same, that through death he might destroy him that had the power of death." Heb. 2 : 14. So that the Redeemer made himself bone of our bone, and flesh of our flesh ; and he thus united himself with every dweller upon the globe ; and, as a consequence on such imion, that which he wrought out for his own flesh, he wrought out for all flesh ; making, at one and the same time, and by one and the same act, his own .immortal, and that of all immortal. He was then, literally, " the Resurrection." His resurrection was the resurrection of the nature, and the resurrection of the nature was the re- surrection of all men. Oh, it is an amazing contemplation, one to which even thought must always fail to do justice ! The first Adam just laid the blighting hand of disobedience on the root of human nature, and the count- less millions of shoots, which were to spring up and cover the earth, were stricken with corruption, and could grow only to wither and decay. The se- cond Adam nurtured the root in righte- ousness, and watered it with blood. And, lo ! a vivifying sap went up into every, the most distant branch ; and over this sap death wields no powerj for the sap goes down with the branch into the bosom of the earth, and, at God's appointed time, shall quicken it afresh, and cause it to arise indestruc- tible through eternity. It would be quite inconsistent with the resurrection of the nature — and this it is, you ob- serve, which makes Christ " the Resur- rection" — that any individual partak- ing that nature, should continue for ever cased up in the sepulchre. And if there never moved upon this earth beings who gave ear to the tidings of salvation; if the successive generations of mankind, without a lonely exception, laughed to scorn the proffers of mercy and forgiveness ; still this desperate and unvarying infidelity would have no effect on the resurrection of the species. The bond of flesh is not to be rent by any of the acts of the most daring re- bellion. And in virtue of this union, sure as that the Mediator rose, sure as that he shall return and sit, in awful pomp, on the judgment-seat, so sure is it that the earth shall yet heave at every pore; and that, even had it received in deposit the bodies of none save the unrighteous and the infidel, it would give up the dust with a most faithful accuracy; so that the buried would arise, impei'ishable in bone and sinew ; and the despisers of Christ, be- ing of one flesh with him, must share in the resurrection of that flesh, though, not being of one spirit, they shall have no part in its glorification. You see, then, that Christ is more than the efficient cause of the resurrec- tion; that he is the resurrection: " I am the Resurrection." And we cannot quit this portion of our subject without again striving to impress upon you the augustness and sublimity of the ascer- tained fact. The untold myriads of our lineage rose in the resurrection of the THE DOCTRINE OP THE KESURRECTION. 55 new Head of our race. Never, oh never, would the sheeted rehques of mankind have walked forth from the vaults and the church-yards ; never from the val- ley and the mountain would there have started the millions who have fallen in the battle-tug ; never would the giant- caverns of the unfathomed ocean have yielded up the multitudes who were swept from the earth when its wicked- ness grew desperate, or whom strand- ed navies have bequeathed to the guar- dianship of the deep ; never would the dislocated and decomposed body have shaken off its dishonors, and stood out in strength and in symmetry, bone coming again to bone, and sinews bind- ing them, and skin covering them — had not He, who so occupied the nature that he could act for the race, descend- ed, in his prowess and his purity, into the chambers of death, and scattering the seeds of a new existence through- out their far-spreading ranges, aban- doned them to gloom and silence till a lixed and on-coming day ; appointing that then the seeds should certainly fiforminate into a rich harvest of undy- ing: bodies, and the walls of the cham- bers, falling flat at the trumpet-blast of judgment, disclose the swarming ar- mies of the buried marching onward to tJie " great white throne." Rev. 20 : 11. B'.it we shall not dwell longer on the ficl that Christ Jesus is " the Resur- rection." Our second topic of dis- course presents most of difficulty ; and ^ve shall, therefore, give it the remain- der of our time. We wish to take our text as an an- nouTicement of the immortality of the Koul, and to examine how, by joining the terms resuiTOction and life, Christ supplied what was wanting in the cal- culations of natural religion. Now we hold no terms with those, who, through an overwrought zeal for the honor of the Gospel, would deprecate the strug- glings after knowledge which charac- terized the days preceding Christianity. There arose, at times, men, gifted above their fellows, who threw themselves boldly into the suiTOunding darkness, and brought out sparklings of truth which they showed to a wondering, yet doubting, world. Thus the immortali- ty of the soul was certainly held by sundry of the ancient philosophers. And though there might be much error compounded with truth, and much fee- bleness in the notions entertained of spiritual subsistence, it was a great tri- umph on the part of the soul, that she did at all shake off" the trammels of flesh, and, soaring upwards, snatch something like proof of her own high destinies. We believe that amongst those who enjoyed not the advantages of revela- tion there was no suspicion of a resur- rection, but there was, at least, a sur- mise of life. We say a surmise of life. For if you examine carefully the limit to which unaided discovery might be pushed, you wdll find cause to think that a shrewd guess, or a brilliant con- jecture, is the highest attainment of natural religion. That mere matter can never have consciousness ; that mere matter can never feel ; that, by no con- stitution and adjustment of its atoms, can mere matter become capable of acts of understanding and reason ; we can have no hesitation in saying that these are self-evident truths, of which no candid mind will ask a demonstra- tion. The mind is its own witness that it is something more than matter. And when men have thus proved themselves in part immaterial, they have made a long advance towards proving them- selves immortal. They have ascertain- ed, at least, the existence of a princi- ple, which, not being matter, will not necessarily be affected by the dissolu- tion of matter. And having once deter- mined that there is a portion of man adapted for the soaring away from the ruins of matter, let attention be given to the scrutiny of this portion, and it will be found so capable of noble per- formances, so fitted for the contempla- tion of things spiritual and divine, that it shall commend itself to the inquirer as destined to the attainments of a lof- tier existence. So that we are certain upon the point that man might prove himself in part immaterial, and, there- fore, capable of existence, when sepa/- rate from matter. And we are persuad- ed yet further, that, having shown him- self capable of a future existence, he might also show himself capable of an immortal ; there being ample reason on the side of the opinion, that the princi- ple, which could survive at all, might go on surviving for ever. Now this is a brief outline of the ar- 56 THE DOCTRINE OP THE RESURRECTION. gument which might be pursued for the soul's immortahty. Man might reason up from matter as insensible to himself as sensible. He might conclude, that, since what is wholly material can ne- ver think, he himself, as being able to think, must be, in part, immaterial. And the moment he has made out the point of an immaterial principle actu- ating matter, he may bring to bear a vast assemblage of proofs, derived alike from the aspirings of this principle and the attributes of God, all confirmatory of the notion, that the immaterial shall survive when the material has been worn down and sepulchred. But we think that when a man had reasoned up to a capacity of immor- tality, he would have reached the fur- thest possible point. We think that natural religion could just show him that he might live for ever, but cer- tainly not that he would live for ever. He might have been brought into a persuasion that the principle within him was not necessarily subject to death. But he could not have assured himself that God would not consign this principle to death. It is one thing to prove a principle capable of immor- tality, and quite another to prove that God will allow it to be immortal. And if man had brought into the account the misdoings of his life ; if he had re- membered how grievously he had per- mitted the immaterial to be the slave of the material, giving no homage to the ethereal and magnificent principle, but binding it basely down within the frame- work of flesh ; why, we may sup- pose there would have come upon him the fear, we had almost said the hope, that, by an act of omnipotence, God would terminate the existence of that which might have been everlasting, and, sending a canker-worm into the long- dishonored germ, forbid the soul to shoot upwards a plant of immortality. So that we again say that a capacity, but not a certainty of immortality, would be, probably, the highest discov- ery arrived at by natural religion. And just here it was that the Gospel came in, and bringing man tidings from the Father of spirits, informed him of the irrevocable appointment that the soul, like the Deity of which it is the spark, shall go not out and wax not dim. Re- vealed religion approached as the aux- 1 iliary to natural, and, confirming all its discoveries of man's capacity of im- mortality, removed all doubts as to his destinies being everlasting. And thus it were fair to contend, that, up to the coming of Christ, man had done no- thing more than carry himself to the boi-der-line of eternity ; and that there he stood, a disembodied spirit, full of the amazing consciousness, that, if per- mitted to spring into the unbounded expanse, he should never be mastered by the immensity of flight ; but ham- pered, all the while, by the suspicion that there might go out against him a decree of the Omnipotent, binding down the wings of the soul, and for- bidding this expiation over the for ever and for ever of Godhead. So that the Gospel, though it taught not man that he might be, assuredly did teach him that he should be, immortal. It brought him not the first tidings of an immate- rial principle, but, certainly, it first in- formed him that nothing should inter- fere with the immaterial becoming the eternal. Now you will observe that it has been the object of these remarks, to prove that natural religion did much, and at the same time left much undone, in regard to the disclosures of a future state to man. We have striven, there- fore, to show you a point up to which discovery might be pushed without aid from revelation, but at which, if not thus assisted, it must come necessarily to a stand. And now, if you would bring these statements into connection with our text, we may again say that natural religion had a surmise of life, but no suspicion of a I'esuiTection ; that if Christ had only said " I am the life," he would have left in darkness and per- plexity the question of the soul's im- mortality ; but that by combining two titles, by calling himself " the resur- rection and the life," he removed the difficulties from that question, and brought to light the immortality. We wish you to be clear on this gi-eat point We shall, therefore, examine how na- tural religion came to be deficient, and how the statement of our text supplied what was v^anting. Now we see no better method of pro- secuting tliis inquiry, than the putting one's self^^nto the position of a man who has no guidance but that of natu- THE DOCTRINK OF THE RESURRECTION. 57 til religion. If there had never shone on me the beams of the Gospel, and. if I could only gather my arguments from what I felt within myself, and from what I saw occurring around me, I might ad- vance, step by step, through some such process as the following. I am not wholly a material thing. I can perceive, and reason, and remember. I am con- scious to myself of powers which it is impossible that mere matter, however wrought up or moulded, could possess or exercise. There must, then, be with- in me an immaterial principle, a some- thing which is not matter, a soul, an invisible, mysterious, powerful, pervad- ing thing. And this soul, I feel that it struggles after immortality. I feel that it urges me to the practice of virtue, however painful, and that it warns me against the pursuit of vice, however pleasant. I feel that it acts upon me by motives, derived from the properties of a God, but which lose all their point and power, unless I am hereafter to be judged and dealt with according to my actions. And if natural religion have thus enabled me, at the least, to conjec- ture that there shall come a judgment, and a state of retribution, what is it which puts an arrest on my searchings, and forbids my going onward to cer- tainty? We reply without hesitation, death. Natural religion cannot overleap the grave. It is just the fact of the body's dissolution, of the taking down of this fleshly tabernacle, of the resolu- tion of bone, and flesh, and sinew into dust — it is just this fact which shakes all my calculations of a judgment, and throws a darkness, not to be penetrated, round " life and immortality." 2 Tim. 1 : 10. And why so 1 Why, after show- ing that I am immaterial — why, after proving that a part of myself spurns from it decay, and is not necessarily affected by the breaking-up- of the body — why should death interfere with my conviction of the certainties of judg- ment and retribution 1 We hold the reason to be simple and easily defined. If there shall come a judgment, of course the beings judged must be the very beings who have lived on this earth. If there shall come a retribution, of course the beings rewarded or pun- ished must be the very beings who have been virtuous or vicious in this present existence. There can be nothing clear- er than that the individuals judged, and the individuals recompensed, must be the very individuals who have here moved and acted, the sons and the daughters of humanity. But how can they be 1 The soul is not the man. There must be the material, as well as the immaterial, to make up man. The vicious person cannot be the suffering person, and the virtuous person cannot be the exalted person, and neither can be the tried person, unless body and soul stand together at the tribunal, constituting hereafter the very person which they constitute here. And if na- tural religion know nothing of a resur- rection — and it does know nothing, the resurrection being purely an article of revelation — we hold that natural reli- gion must here be thrown out of all her calculations, and that confusion and doubt will be the result of her best searchings after truth. I see that if there be a judgment hereafter, the individuals judged must be the very individuals who have obey- ed here, or disobeyed here. But if the material part be dissolved, and there re- main nothing but the immaterial, they are not, and they cannot be, the very., same individuals. The soul, we again' say, is not the man. And if the soul, by itself, stand in judgment, it is not the man who stands in judgment. And if the man stand not in judgment, there is no putting of the obedient, or the offending being upon trial. So that there is at once an overthrow of the reasoning by which I had sustained the expectation, that the future comes charged with the actings of a mightv jurisdiction. I cannot master the mys- teries of the sepulchre. I may have sat down in one of the solitudes of na- ture ; and I may have gazed on a fir- mament and a landscape which seemed to burn with divinity; and I may have heard the whisperings of a more than human voice, telling me that I am des- tined for companionship with the bright tenantry of a far lovelier scene ; and I may then have pondered on myself: there may have throbbed within me the pulses of eternity ; I may have felt the soarings of the immaterial, and I may have risen thrilling with the thought that I should yet find myself" the ira- mortal. But if, when I went forth to • mix again with my fellows — the splen- 8 58 THE DOCTRINE OF THE RESURRECTION. did thought still crowding every cham- ber of the spirit — I met the spectacle of the dead borne along to their burial; why, this demonstration of human mor- tality would be as a thunder-cloud passing over my brilliant contempla- tions; and I should not know how to believe myself reserved for endless al- lotments, when I saw one of my own lineage coffined and sepulchred. How can this buried man be judged? How can he be put upon trial ? His soul may be judged, his soul may be put upon trial. But the soul is not himself And if it be not himself who is judged, judg- ment proceeds not according to the ri- gors of justice, and, therefore, not ac- cording to the attributes of Deity. And thus the grand reason why na- tural religion cannot fully demonstrate a judgment to come, and a state of re- tribution, seems to be that it cannot demonstrate, nay rather, that it cannot even suspect, the resurrection of the body. The great difficulty, whilst man is left to discover for himself, is how to bring upon the platform of the fu- ture the identical beings who are shat- tered by death. So that unless you introduce " the resurrection," you will not make intelligible " the life." The ehovdng that the body will rise is in- dispensable to the showing, not indeed that the soul is capable of immortality, but that her immortality can consist, as it rnust consist, with judgment and retribution. We contend, therefore, that the great clearing-up of the soul's immortality was Christ's combining the titles of our text, " I am the resurrec- tion and the life." Let man be assured that his body shall rise, and there is an end to those difficulties which throng around him when observing that his body must die. Thus it was " the re- Burrection " which turned a flood of brightness on " the life." The main thing wanted, in order that men might be assured of immortality, was a grap- pling with death. It was the showing that there should be no lasting separa- tion between soul and body. It was the exhibiting the sepulchres emptied of their vast population, and giving up the dust remoulded into human shape. And this it was which the Mediator effected, not BO much by announcement as by action, not so much by preaching re- sun'ection and life, as by being " the resurrection and the life." He went down to the grave in the weakness of humanity, but, at the same time, in the might of Deity. And, designing to pour forth a torrent of lustre on the life, the everlasting life of man, oh, he did not bid the firmament cleave asun- der, and the constellations of eternity shine out in their majesties, and daz- zle and blind an overawed creation. He rose up, a moral giant, fi"om his grave-clothes ; and, proving death van- quished in his ovm stronghold, left the vacant sepulchre as a centre of light to the dwellers on this planet. He took not the suns and systems which crowd immensity in order to form one brilliant cataract, which, rushing down in its glories, might sweep away darkness from the benighted race of the apos- tate. But he came forth from the tomb, masterful and victorious ; and the place where he had lain became the focus of the rays of the long-hidden truth ; and the fragments of his grave-stone were the stars from which flashed the im- mortality of man. It was by teaching men that they should rise again, it was by being him- self " the resurrection," that he taught them they should live the life of im- mortality. This was bringing the miss- ing element into the attempted demon- stration ; for this was proving that the complete man shall stand to be judged at the judgment-seat of God. And thus it is, we again say, that the combina- tion of titles in our text makes the pas- sage an intelligible revelation of the soul's immortality. And prophets might have stood upon the earth, proclaiming to the nations that every individual carried within himself a principle im- perishable and unconquerable; they might have spoken of a vast and so- lemn scene of assize ; and they might have conjured men by the bliss and the glory, the fire and the shame of never- ending allotments : but doubt and un- certainty must have overcast the fu- ture, unless they could have bidden their audience anticipate a time when the whole globe, its mountains, its de- serts, its cities, its oceans, shall seem resolved into the elements of human- kind ; and millions of eyes look up from a million chasms ; and long-severed spi- rits rush down to the very tenements which encased them in the days of pro- THE DOCTRINE OF THE RESURRECTION. 59 bation : ay, prophets would have spo- ken in vain of judgment and immortali- ty, unless they could have told out this marvellous leaping into life of whatso- ever hath been man ; and never could the cloud and the mist have been rolled away from the boundless hereafter, had there not arisen a being who could de- clare, and make good the declaration, " I am the resun-ection and the life." Now we have been induced to treat on the inspiring words of our text by the consideration that death has, of late, been unusually busy in our metropolis and its environs, and that, therefore, such a subject of address seemed pe- culiarly calculated to interest your feel- ings. We thank thee, and we praise thee, O Lord our Redeemer, that thou hast " aboHshed death." 2 Timothy, 1 : 10. We laud and magnify thy glorious name, that thou hast wrestled with our tyrant in the citadel of his empire ; and that, if we believe upon thee, death has, for us, been spoiled of its power, so that, " O death, where is thy sting, O grave, where is thy victory VI Cor. 15 : 55, may burst from our lips as we expect the dissolution of " our earthly house of this tabernacle." 2 Cor. 5 : 1. What is it but sin, unpardoned and wrath-deserving sin, which gives death its fearfulness 1 It is not the mere se- paration of soul from body, though we own this to be awful and unnatural, worthy man's abhorrence, as causing him, for a while, to cease to be man. It is not the reduction of this flesh into original elements, earth to earth, fire to fire, water to water, which makes death so teiTible, compelling the most stout- hearted to shrink back from his ap- proaches. It is because death is a con- sequence of sin, and this one conse- quence involves others a thousand-fold more tremendous — a sea of anger, and Jvaves of fire, and the desperate anguish of a storm-tossed spirit — it is on this account that death is appalling : and they who could contentedly, and even cheerfully, depart from a world which has mocked them, and deceived them, and wearied them, oh, they cannot face a Cxod whom they have disobeyed, and neglected, and scorned. And if, then, there be the taking away of sin ; if iniquity be blotted out as a cloud, and transgression as a thick cloud ; is not all its bitterness abstract- ed from death 1 And if, yet further, in addition to the pardon of sin, there have been imparted to man a " right to the tree of life," Rev. 22: 14, so that there are reserved for him in hea- ven the splendors of immortality ; is not the terrible wrenched away from death 1 But is not sin pardoned through the blood-shedding of Jesus ; and is not glory secured to us through the inter- cession of Jesus 1 And where then is the tongue bold enough to deny, that death is virtually abolished unto those who believe on " the resurrection and the life 1 " Oh, the smile can rest bright- ly on a dying man's cheek, and the woi-ds of rapture can flow from his lips, and his eye can be on angel fonns waiting to take charge of his spirit, and his ear can catch the minstrelsy of cherubim ; and what are these but trophies — con- querors of earth, and statesmen, and phi- losophers, can ye match these trophies ? — of " the resuiTection and the life l " We look not, indeed, always for tri- umph and rapture on the death-beds of the righteous. We hold it to be wrong to expect, necessarily, encou- ragement for ourselves from good men in the act of dissolution. They require encouragement. Christ, when in hie agony, did not strengthen others : he needed an angel to strengthen himself. But if there be not ecstasy, there is that composedness, in departing believers, which shows that " the everlasting anns," Deut. 33 : 27, are under them and around them. It is a beautiful thing to see a christian die. The confession, whilst there is strength to articulate, that God is faithful to his promises ; the faint pressui'e of the hand, giving the same testimony when the tongue can no longer do its office ; the motion of the lips, inducing you to bend down, so that you catch broken syllables of expressions such as this, " come, Lord Jesus, come quickly ; " these make the chamber in which the righteous die one of the most privileged scenes upon earth ; and he who can be present, and gather no assurance that death is fet- tered and manacled, even whilst grasp- ing the believer, must be either inacces- sible to moral evidence, or insensible to the most heart-touching appeal. One after another is withdrawn from the church below, and heaven is gather- ing into its capacious bosom the com- 60 THE DOCTRINE OF THE RESURRECTION. pany of the justified. We feel our loss, when those whose experience quali- fied them to teach, and whose life was a sermon to a neighborhood, are re- moved to the courts of the church above. But we " sorrow not, even as others which have no hope," 1 Thess. 4 : 13, as we mark the breaches which death makes on the right hand and on the left. We may, indeed, think that " the righteous is taken away from the evil to come," Isaiah, 57 : 1, and that we ourselves are left to struggle through approaching days of fear and perplexity. Be it so. We are not alone. He who is " the resurrection and the life'' leads us on to the battle and the grave. It might accord better with our natural feelings, that they who have in- structed us by example, and cheered by exhortation, should remain to coun- sel and to animate, when the tide of war swells highest, and the voice of blasphemy is loudest. We feel that we can but ill spare the matured piety of the veteran Christian, and the glowing devotion of younger disciples. Yet we will say with Asa, when there came against him Zerah the Ethiopian, with an host of an hundred thousand and three hundred chariots, " Lord, it is nothing vvith thee to help whether with many, or with them that have no power ; help us, O Lord our God, for we rest on thee, and in thy name we go against this multitude." 2 Chron. 14 : 11. " The resuiTection and the life," these are thy magnificent titles, Captain of our salvation ! And, therefore, we com- mit to thee body and soul ; for thou hast redeemed both, and thou wilt ad- vance both to the noblest and most splendid of portions. Who quails and shrinks, scared by the despotism of death ] Who amongst you fears the dashings of those cold black waters which roll between us and the promised land 1 Men and brethren, grasp your own privileges. Men and brethren, Christ Jesus has " abolished death :" will ye, by your faithlessness, throw strength into the skeleton, and give back empire to the dethroned and de- stroyed ] Yes, '• the resurrection and the life " " abolished death." Ye must indeed die, and so far death remains undestroyed. But if the terrible be de- stroyed when it can no longer terrify, and if the injurious be destroyed when it can no longer injure ; if the enemy be abolished when it does the work of a friend, and if the tyrant be abolished when performing the offices of a ser- vant ; if the repulsive be destroyed when we can welcome it, and if the odious be destroyed when we can em- brace it ; if the quicksand be abolished when we can walk it and sink not ; if the fire be abolished when we can pass through it and be scorched not ; if the poison be abolished when we can drink it and be hurt not ; then is death de- stroyed, then is death abolished, to all who believe on " the resurrection and the life ;" and the noble prophecy is fulfilled (bear witness, ye groups of the ransomed, bending down from your high citadel of triumph), " O Death, I will be thy plagues ; O Grave, I will be thy destruction." Hosea, 13 : 14. " I heard a voice from heaven " — oh, for the angel's tongue that words so beautiful might have all their melodious- ness — " saying unto me, write, blessed are the deaxl which die in the Lord from henceforth : yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labors, and their works do follow them." Rev. 14 : 13. It is yet but a little while, and we shall be delivered from the burden and the conflict, and, with all those who have preceded us in the righteous strug- gle, enjoy the deep raptures of a Media- tor's presence. Then, re-united to the friends with whom we took sweet coun- sel upon earth, we shall recount our toil only to heighten our ecstasy ; and call to mind the tug and the din of war, only that, with a more bounding throb, and a richer song, we may feel and celebrate the wonders of redemption. And when the morning of the first resurrection breaks on this long-dis- ordered and groaning creation, then shall our text be understood in all its majesty, and in all its marvel : and then shall the words, whose syllables mingle so often with the funeral knell that we are disposed to carve them on the cy- press-tree rather than on the palm, " I am the resurrection and the life," form the chorus of that noble anthem, which those for whom Christ " died and rose and revived," Rom. 14 : 9, shall chant as they march from judgment to glory. We add nothing more. We show you the privileges of the righteous. We tell you, that if you would die their THE POWER OF WICKEDNESS. 61 death, you must live their life. And, conjuring you, by the memory of those who have gone hence in the faith of the Redeemer, that ye " run with pa- tience the race set before you," Heb. 12 : 1, we send you to your homes with the comforting words which succeed our text, " he that believeth on me, though he were dead, yet shall he live ; and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die ; believest thou this 1 " God forbid there should be one of you refusing to answer with Martha, " yea, Lord, yea." SERMON VI. THE POWER OF WICKEDNESS AND RIGHTEOUSNESS TO RE- PRODUCE THEMSELVES. FoT whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap." — Gal. vi. 7. You may be all aware that what is termed the argument from analogy has been carried out to great length by thinking men, and that much of the strongest witness for Christianity has been won on this field of investigation. It is altogether a most curious and pro- fitable inquiry, which sets itself to the tracing out resemblances between na- tural and spiritual things, and which thus proposes to establish, at the least, a probability that creation and Chris- tianity have one and the same author. And we think that we shall not over- step the limits of truth, if we declare that nature wears the appearance of having been actually designed for the illustration of the Bible. We believe that he who, with a devout mind, searches most diligently into the beauties and mysteries of the material world, will find himself met constantly by exhibi- tions, which seem to him the pages of Scripture written in the stars, and the forests, and the waters, of this creation. There is such a sameness of dealing, characteristic of the natural and the spiritual, that the Bible may be read in the outspread of the landscape, and the operations of agriculture : whilst, con- versely, the laws obeyed by this earth and its productions may be traced as pervading the appointments of revela- tion. It were beside our purpose to go at length into demonstration of this coincidence. But you may all perceive, assuming its existence, that the fur- nished argument is clear and convinc- ino-. If there run the same principle through natural and spiritual things, through the book of nature and the Bi- ble, we vindicate the same authorship to both, and prove, with an almost geo- metric precision, that the God of crea- tion is also the God of Christianity. 1 look on the natural firmament with its glorious inlay of stars ; and it is unto me as the breastplate of the great high- priest, " ardent with gems oracular," from which, as from the urim and thum- mim on Aaron's ephod, come messa- o-es full of divinity. And when I turn to the page of Scripture, and perceive the nicest resemblance between the characters in which this page is writ- ten, and those which glitter before me on the crowded concave, I feel that, in trusting myself to the declarations of the Bible, I cling to Him who speaks to me from every point, and by every splendor of the visible universe, whose voice is in the marchings of planets, 62 THE POWER OF WICKEDNESS. and the rushing of whose melodies is in the wings of the day-hght. But, though we go not into the ge- neral inquiry, we take one great prin- ciple, the principle of a resurrection, and we affirm, in illustration of what has been advanced, that it runs alike through God's natural and spiritual dealings. Just as God hath appointed that man's body, after moldering away, shall come forth quickened and renew- ed, so has he ordained that the seed, after corrupting in the ground, shall yield a harvest of the like kind with itself. It is, moreover, God's ordinary course to allow an apparent destruction as preparatory, or introductory to, com- plete success or renovation. He does not permit the springing up, until there has been, on human calculation, a tho- rough withering away. So that the maxim might be shown to hold univer- sally good, " that which thou sowest is not quickened, except it die." 1 Cor. 15 : 36. We may observe yet further, that, as with the husbandman, if he sow the com, he shall reap the com, and if he sow the weed, he shall reap the weed ; thus with myself as a responsi- ble agent, if I sow the corruptible, I shall reap the corruptible ; and if I sow the imperishable, I shall reap the im- perishable. The seed reproduces itself. This is the fact in reference to spiritual things, on which we would fasten your attention ; " whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap." Now we are all, to a certain extent, familiar with this principle ; for it is forced on our notice by every-day oc- currences. We observe that a disso- lute and reckless youth is ordinarily followed by a premature and miserable old age. We see that honesty and in- dustry win commonly comfort and re- spect ; and that, on the contrary, levity and a want of carefulness produce pau- perism and disrepute. And yet further, unless we go over to the ranks of infi- delity, we cannot question that a course of disobedience to God is earnintr man's eternal destruction ; whilst, through submission to the revealed will of his Master, there is secured admittance into a glorious heritage. We are thus aware that there runs through the Crea- tor's dealings with our i-ace the prin- ciple of an identity, or sameness, be- tween the thinsrs which man sows and those which he reaps. But we think it possible that we may have contented ourselves with too superficial a view of this principle ; and that, through not searching into what may be termed its philosophy, we allow much that is im- portant to elude observation. The seed sown in the earth goes on, as it were, by a sort of natural process, and without di- rect interference from God, to yield seed of the same description with itself. And we wish it well observed, whether there be not in spiritual things an analogy the most perfect to what thus takes place in natural. We think that, upon a care- ful examination, you will find ground- work of belief that the simile holds good in every possible respect : so that what a man sows, if left to its own ve- getating powers, will yield, naturally, a harvest of its own kind and descrip- tion. We shall study to establish this point in regard, first, to the present scene of pi'obation ; and, secondly, to the future scene of recompense. We begin with the present scene of probation, and will put you in posses- sion of the exact point to be made out, by referring you to the instance of Pha- raoh. We know that whilst God was acting on the Egyptians by the awful apparatus of plague and prodigy, he is often said to have hardened Pharaoh's heart, so that the monarch refused to let Israel go. And it is a great ques- tion to decide, whether God actually interfered to strengthen and confirm the obstinacy of Pharaoh, or only left the king to the workings of his own heart, as knowing that one degree of unbe- lief would generate another and a stancher. It seems to us at variance with all that is revealed of the Creator, to suppose him urging on the wicked in his wickedness, or bringing any en- gine to bear on the ungodly which shall make them more desperate in rebellion. God willeth not the death of any sin- ner. And though, after long striving with an individual, after plying him with the various excitements which are best calculated to stir a rational, and agitate an immortal being, he may with- draw all the aids of the Spirit, and so give him over to that worst of all ty- rants, himself; yet this, we contend, must be the extreme thing ever done by the Almighty to man, the leaving THE POWER OF WICKEDNESS. 63 him, but not the constraining him, to do evil. And when, therefore, it is said that God hardened Pharaoh's heart, and when the expression is repeated, so as to mark a continued and on-going hai-- dening, we have no other idea of the meaning, than that God, moved by the obstinacy of Pharaoh, withdrew from him, gradually, all the restraints of his grace ; and that as these restraints were more and more removed, the heart of the king was more and more hardened. We look upon the instance as a precise illustration of the truth, that " whatso- ever a man soweth, that shall he also reap." Pharaoh sowed obstinacy, and Pharaoh reaped obstinacy. The seed was put into the soil ; and there was no need, any more than with the grain of corn, that God should interfere with any new power. Nothing more was required than that the seed should be left to vegetate, to act out its own na- ture. And though God, had he pleased, might have counteracted this nature, yet, when he resolved to give up Pha- raoh to his unbelief, he had nothing to do but to let alone this nature. The seed of infidelity, which Pharaoh had sown when he rejected the first miracles, was left to itself, and to its own vegeta- tion. It sent up, accordingly, a harvest of its own kind, a harvest of infidelity, and Pharaoh was not to be persuaded by any of the subsequent miracles. So that, when the monarch went on from one degree of hardness to another, till at length, advancing through the cold ranks of the prostrated first-born, he pursued, across a blackened and devas- tated territory, the people for whose emancipation there had been the visible making bare of the arm of Omnipo- tence, he was not an instance — perish the thought — of a man compelled by his Maker to offend and be lost ; but simply a witness to the truth of the principle, that " whatsoever a man sow- eth, that shall he also reap." Now that which took place in the case of this Egyptian is, we argue, pre- cisely what occurs in regard generally to the impenitent. God destroys no man. Every man who is destroyed must destroy himself. When a man stifles an admonition of conscience, he may fairly be said to sow the stiflings of conscience. And when conscience admonishes him the next time, it will be more feebly and faintly. There will be a less difficulty in overpowering the admonition. And the feebleness of re- monstrance, and the facility of resist- . ance, will increase on every repetition; not because God interferes to make the man callous, but because the thing sown was stifling of conscience, and there- fore the thing reaped is stifling of con- science. The Holy Spirit strives with every man. Conscience is but the voice of Deity heard above the din of human passions. But let conscience be resist- ed, and the Spirit is grieved. Then, as with Pharaoh, there is an abstraction of that influence by which evil is kept under. And thus there is a less and less counteraction to the vegetating power of the seed, and, therefore, a P more and more abundant upspringingf/' of that which was sown. So that, though there must be a direct and mighty in- terference of Deity for the salvation of a man, there is no such interference for his destruction. God must sow the seed of regeneration, and enable man, accoj-ding to the phraseology of the verse succeeding our text, to sow " to the Spirit." But man sows for himself the seed of impenitence, and of himself, " he soweth to his flesh." And what he sows, he reaps. If, as he grows older, he grow more confirmed in his wicked- ness ; if warnings come upon him with less and less energy; if the solemni- ties of the judgment lose more and more their power of alarming him, and the terrors of hell their power of affrighting him ; why, the man is nothing else but an exhibition of the thickening of the harvest of which himself sowed the seed ; and he puts forth, in this his con- firmed and settled impenitence, a de- monstration, legible by every careful observer, that there needs no apparatus for the turning a man gradually from the clay to the adamant, over and above the apparatus of his own heart, left to itself, and let alone to harden. We greatly desire that you should rightly understand what the agency is through which the soul is destroyed. It is not that God hath sent out a de- cree against a man. It is not that he throws a darkness before his eyes which cannot be penetrated, and a chillness into his blood which cannot be thawed, and a torpor into his limbs which can- not be overcome. Harvest-time bring- 64 THE IPoWeR op wickedness. ing an abundant produce of what was sown in the seed-time — this, we con- tend, is the sum-total of the mystery. • God interferes not, as it were, with the processes of nature. He opposes not, or, to speak more correctly, he with- draws gradually his opposition to, the vegetation of the seed. And this is all. There is nothing more needed. You resist a motion of the Spirit. Well then, this facilitates further resistance. He who has resisted once will have less difficulty in resisting the second time, and less than that the third time, and less than that the fourth time. So that there comes a harvest of resistances, and all from the single grain of the first ^ resistance. You indulge yourself once . in a known sin. Why you will be more ■•easily overpowered by the second temp- tation, and again more easily by the third, and again more easily by the fourth. And what is this but a harvest of sinful indulgences, and all from the one grain of the first indulgence 1 You omit some portion of spiritual exer- cises, of prayer, or of the study of the word. The omission will grow upon you. You will omit more to-morrow, and more the next day, and still more the next. And thus there will be a har- vest of omissions, and all from the soli- tary grain of the first omission. And if, through the germinating power of that which man sows, he proceed natu- rally from bad to worse ; if resistance produce resistance, and indulgence in- dulgence, and omission omission ; shall it be denied that the sinner, throughout the whole history of his experience, throughout his progress across the waste of worldliness and obduracy and impenitence — passing on, as he does, to successive stages of indifference to God, and fool-hardiness, and reckless- ness — is nothing else but the mower of the fruits of his own husbandry, and thus witnesses, with a power which out- does all the power of language, that " whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap 1 " It is in this manner that we go into what we term the philosophy of our text, when applied to the present scene of probation. We take the seed in the soil. We show you that, by a natural process, without the interference of God, and simply through his ceasing to counteract the tendencies, there is pro- duced a wide crop of the same grain as was sown. 'And thus — all kinds of op- position to God propagating themselves — he who becomes wrought up into an infidel hardihood, or lulled into a se- pulchral apathy, is nothing but the sow- er living on to be the reaper, the hus- bandman in the successive stages of an agriculture, wherein the ploughing, and the planting, and the gathering, are all his own achievement and all his own destruction. Now we have confined ourselves to the supposition that the thing sown is wickedness. But you will see at once, that, with a mere verbal alteration, whatever has been advanced illustrates our text when the thing sown is righ- teousness. If a man resist temptation, there Avill be a facility of resisting ever augmenting as he goes on with self- denial. Every new achievement of principle will smooth the way to future achievements of the like kind; and the fruit of each moral victory — for we may consider the victory as a seed that is sown — is to place us on loftier vantage- ground for the triumphs of righteous- ness in days yet to come. We cannot perform a virtuous act without gaining fresh sinew for the sei-vice of virtue; just as we cannot perform a vicious, without riveting faster to ourselves the fetters of vice. And, assuredly, if there be thus such a growing strength in ha- bit that every action makes way for its repetition, we may declare of virtue and righteousness that they reproduce themselves ; and is not this the same thing as proving that what we sow, that also do we reap 1 We would yet further remark, un- der this head of discourse, that the prin- ciple of reaping what we sow is spe- cially to be traced through all the work- ings of philanthropy. We are persuaded that, if an eminently charitable man experienced great reverse of circum- stances, so that from having been the afBuent and the benefactor he became the needy and dependent, he would at- tract towards himself in his distress, all the sympathies of a neighborhood. And whilst the great man, who had had nothing but his gi-eatness to recom- mend him, would be unpitied or un- cared-for in disaster; and the avari- cious man, who had grasped tightly his wealth, would meet only ridicule THE POWER OP WICKEDNESS. 65 when it had escaped from his hold ; the philanthropic man, who had used his riches as a steward, would form, in his penury, a soit of focus for the kind- liness of a thousand hearts ; and multi- tudes would press forward to tender him the succor which he had once given to others ; and thus there would be a mighty reaping into his own gra- naries of that very seed which he had been assiduous in sowing. We go on to observe that it is the marvellous property of spiritual things, though we can scarcely affirm it of na- tural, that the effiirt to teach them to others, gives enlargement to our own sphere of information. We are per- suaded that the most experienced Chris- tian cannot sit down with the neglected and grossly ignorant laborer — nay, not with the child in a Sunday or infant- school — and strive to explain and en- force the great truths of the Bible, with- out finding his own views of the Gospel amplified and cleared through this en- gagement in the business of tuition. The mere trying to make a point plain to another, will oftentimes make it far plainer than ever to ourselves. In illus- trating a doctrine of Scripture, in en- deavoring to bring it down to the level of a weak or undisciplined understand- ing, you will find that doctrine present- ing itself to your own minds with a new power and unimagined beauty ; and though you may have read the standard writers on theology, and mas- tered the essays of the most learned divines, yet shall such fresh and vigor- ous apprehensions of truth be derived often from the effort to pi-ess it home on the intellect and conscience of the ignorant, that you shall pronounce the cottage of the untaught peasant your best school-house, and the questions even of a child your most searching catechisings on the majestic and mys- terious things of our faith. And as you tell over to the poor cottager the story of the incarnation and crucifixion, and inform him of the nature and effects of Adam's apostacy; or even find your- self required to adduce more elemen- tary truths, pressing on the neglected man the being of a God, and the im- mortality of the soul ; oh, it shall con- stantly ocur that you will feel a keener aense tha;i ever of the preci()usness of Christ, or a grc'sr awe at the majes- ties of Jehovah, or a loftier bounding of spirit at the thought of your own deathlessness : and if you feel tempted to count it strange that in teaching another you teach also yourself, and that you carry away from your inter- course with the mechanic, or the child, such an accession to your own know- ledge, or your own love, as shall seem to make you the indebted party, and not the obliging ; then you have only to remember — and the remembrance will sweep away surprise — that it is a fixed appointment of the Almighty, that " whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap." In respect, moreover, to alms-giving, we may assert that there is evidently such a present advantage in communi- cating of our temporal good things, that the giver becomes the receiver, and thus the principle under review finds a fresh illustration. The general comfort and security of society depend so greatly on the well-being of the lower orders, that the rich consult most for themselves when they consult most for the poor. There must be restless- ness and anxiety in the palace, whilst misery oppresses the great mass of a population. And every effort to increase the happiness, and heighten the charac- ter of the poor, will tell powerfully on the condition of those by whom it is made, seeing that the contentment and good order of the peasantry of a coun try give value to the revenues of its nobles and merchants. For our own part, we never look on a public hospi- tal or infirmary, we never behold the alms-houses into which old age may be received, and the asylums which have been thrown up on all sides for the widow and the orphan, without feel- ing that, however generously the rich come foi-ward to the relief of the poor, they advantage themselves whilst pro- viding for the suffering and destitute. These buildings, which are the best diadem of our country, not only bring blessings on the land, by serving, it may be, as electrical conductors which turn from us many flashes of the light- ning of wrath ; but, being as centi-es whence succors are sent through dis- tressed portions of our community, they are fostering-places of kindly dis- positions towards the wealthier ranks; and may, therefore, be so considered 9 66 THE POWER OF WICKEDNESS. as structures in which a kingdom's prosperity is nursed, that the fittest in- scription over their gateways would be this, " whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap." Now before we turn to the second topic of discourse, we would make a close application of some of our fore- going statements. You perceive the likelihood, or rather the certainty, to be, that in all cases, there will be a self-propagating power in evil, so that the wrong done shall be parent to a line of misdoings. We have shown you, for example, that to stifle a conviction is the first step in a pathway which leads directly to stupefaction of con- science. And we desire to fasten on this fact, and so to exhibit it that all may discern their near concernment therewith. We remark that men will flock in crowds to the public preach- ing of the word, though the master natui'al passion, whatsoever it be, re- tain undisputed the lordship of their spirits. And this passion may be ava- rice, or it may be voluptuousness, or ambition, or envy, or pride. But, how- ever characterized, the dominant lust is brought into the sanctuary, and ex- posed, so to speak, to the exorcisms of the preacher. And who shall say what a disturbing force the sermon will of- tentimes put forth against the master- passion ; and how frequently the word of the living God, delivered in earnest- ness and affection, shall have almost made a breach in the strong-holds of Satan ? Ay, we believe that often, when a minister, gathering himself up in the strength of his master, launches the thunderbolts of truth against vice and unrighteousness, there is a vast stirring of heart thi'ough the listening assembly; and that as he reasons of " righteousness, temperance, and judg- ment to come," Acts, 24: 25, though the natural ear catch no sounds of anx- iety and alarm, attendant angels, who watch the woi'kings of the Gospel, hear the deep beatings of many souls, and almost start at the bounding throb of aroused and agitated spirits. If Satan ever tremble for his ascendency, it is when the preacher has riveted the at- tention of the unconverted individual ; and, after describing and denouncing the covetous, or pouring out the tor- rents of his speech on an exhibition of the voluptuary, or exposing the mad- ness and misery of the proud, comes down on that individual with the start- ling announcement, " thou art the inan." And the individual goes away from the sanctuary, convinced of the necessity of subduing the master-passion ; and he will form, and for a while act upon, the resolution of wrestling against pride, or of mortifying lust, or of renouncing avarice. But he proceeds in his own strength, and, having no consciousness of the inabilities of his nature, seeks not to God's Spirit for assistance. In a little time, therefore, all the impres- sion wears away. He saw only the danger of sin : he went not on to see its vileness. And the mind soon habi- tuates itself, or soon grows indifferent, to the contemplation of danger, and, above all, when perhaps distant. Hence the man will return quickly to his old haunts. And whether it be to money- making that he again gives himself, or to sensuality, or to ambition, he will enter on the pursuit with an eagerness heightened by abstinence ; and thus the result shall be practically the same, as though, having sown moral stupor, he were reaping in a harvest tremendous- ly luxuriant. And, oh, if the man, after this renouncement, and restoration, of the master-passion, come again to the sanctuary ; and if again the preacher denounce, with a righteous vehemence, every working of ungodliness ; and the fire be in his eye, and the thunder on his tongue, as he makes a stand for God, and for truth, against a reckless and semi-infidel generation ; alas ! the man who has felt convictions and sovvnri their stiflings, will be more inaccessible than ever, and more impervious. He will have been hardened through the vegetating process which has gone on in his soul. A far miglitier apparatus than before will be required to make the lightest impression. And when you think that there the man is now sitting, unmoved by the terrors of the word ; that he can listen with indifference to the very truths which once agitated him ; and that, as a consequence on the repi'oduction of the seed, there is more of the marble in his composition than before, and more of the ice, and more of the iron, so that the likelihood of salvation is fearfully diminished ; ye can need no other warning against tri- THE POWER OP WICKEDNESS. d07 fling with convictions, and thus mak- ing light of tlie appointment, that " what- soever a man soweth, that shall he also reap." But we proposed to examine, in the second place, the application of the principle of our text to the future scene of recompense. There can be no ques- tion that the reference of the apostle is, specially, to the retributions of another state of being. The present life is em- phatically the seed-time, the next life the harvest-time. And the matter we now have in hand is the ascertaining, whether it be by the natural process of the thing sown yielding the thing reap- ed, that sinfulness hei'e shall give tor- ment hereafter. You will observe that, in showing the application of the principle under re- view to the present scene of probation, we proved that the utmost which God does towards coi>firming a man in im- penitence is the leaving him to himself, the withdrawing from him gradually the remonstrances of his Spirit. The man is literally his own hardener, and, there- fore, literally his own destroyer. And *we now inquire, whether or no he will be his own punisher"? We seem requir- ed, if we would maintain rigidly the principle of our text, to suppose that what is reaped in the future shall be identical with what is sown in the pre- sent. It cannot be questioned that this is a fair representation. The seed re- produces itself It is the same grain which the sower scatters, and the reap- er collects. We may, therefore, lay it down as the statement of our text, that what is reaped in the next life shall be literally of the same kind with what is sown in this life. But if this be coiTect, it must follow that a man's sinfulness shall be a man's punishment. And there is no lack of scriptural evidence on the side of the opinion, that the leaving the wicked, throughout eternity, to their mutual recriminations, to the workings and boilings of overwrought passions, to the scorpion-sting of an undying re- morse, and all the native and inborn agonies of vice — that this, without the interference of a divinely-sent ministry of vengeance, may make that pandemo- nium which is sketched to us by all that is terrible and ghastly in imagery ; and that tormenting, only through giv- ing up the sinner to be his own tor- mentor, God may fulfil all the ends of a retributive etonomy, awarding to wickedness its merited condemnation, and displaying to the universe the dreadfulness of rebellion. It may be, we say, that there shall be required no direct interferences on the part of God. It may be that the Al- mighty shall not commission an aveng- ing train to goad and lacerate the lost. The sinner is hardened by being left to himself; and may it not be that the sin- ner shall be punished by being left to himself? We think assuredly that the passage before us leads straightway to such a conclusion. We may have ha- bituated ourselves to the idea that God shall take, as it were, into his own hands the punishment of the condemn- ed, and that, standing over them as the executioner of the sentence, he will visit body and soul with the inflictions of wrath. But it consists far better with the character of God, that judg- ment should be viewed as the natural produce of sinfulness, so that, without any divine interference, the sinfulness will generate the judgment. Let sin- ' fulness alone, and it will become pun- ishment. Such is, probably, the true account of this awful matter. The thing / reaped is the thing sown.N And if the thing sown be sinfulness,/ and if the thing reaped be punishment, then the punishment, after all, must be the sin- fulness ; and that fearful apparatus of torture which is spoken of in Scripture, the apparatus of a worm that dieth not, and of a fire that is not quenched ; this may be just a man's own guilt, the things sown in this mortal life sprung 1 up and waving in an immortal harvest. We think this a point of great moment. It were comparatively little to say of an individual who sells himself to work evil, and carries it with a high hana and a brazen front against the Lord of/ the whole earth, that he shuts himself! up to a certain and definite destruction.* The thrilling truth is, that, in working iniquity, he sows for himself anguish. He gives not way to a new desire, he allows not a fresh victory to lust, with- out multiplying the amount of final tor- ment. By every excursion of passion, and by every indulgence of an unhal- lowed craving, and by all the misdoings of a hardened or dissolute life, he may be literally said to pour into the grana- 68 THE POWER OP WICKEDNESS. ry of his future destinies the goads and stings which shall madden his spirit. He lays up more food for self-reproach. He widens the field over which thought will pass in bitterness, and mow down remorse. He teaches the worm to be ingenious in excruciating, by tasking his wit that he may be ingenious in sin- ning — for some men, as the prophet saith, and it is a wonderful expression — " are wise to do evil." Jer. 4 : 22. And thus, his iniquities opening, as it were, fresh inlets for the approaches of vengeance, with the ^jrowth of wicked- ness will be the growth of punishment ; and at last it will appear that his resist- ance to convictions, his neglect of op- portunities, and his determined enslave- ment to evil, have literally worked for him " a far more exceeding and eternal weight " of despair. But even this expresses not clearly and fully what seems taught by our text. We are searching for an identity, or sameness, between what is sown and what is reaped. We, therefore, yet fur- ther observe that it may not be need- ful that a material rack should be pre- pared for the body, and fiery spirits gnaw upon the soul. It may not be needful that the Creator should appoint distinct and extraneous arrangements for torture. Let what we call the hus- bandry of wickedness go forward; let the sinner reap what the sinner has sown ; and there is a harvest of anguish for ever to be gathered. Who discei'ns not that punishment may thus be sin- fulness, and that, therefore, the princi- • pie of our text may hold good, to the » very letter, in a scene of retribution 1 A man " sows to the flesh : " this is the apostle's description of sinfulness. He is "of the flesh to reap corruption : " this is his description of punishment. He " sows to the flesh " by pampering , the lusts of the flesh ; and he " reaps of ! the flesh," when these pampered lusts < fall on him with fresh cravings, and de- mand of him fresh gratifications. But suppose this reaping continued in the next life, and is not the man mowing down a harvest of agony 1 Let all those passions and desires which it has been the man's business upon earth to in- dulge, hunger and thirst for gratification hereafter, and will ye seek elsewhere for the parched tongue beseeching fruitlessly one drop of water ? Let the envious man keep his envy, and the jealous man his jealousy, and the re- vengeful man his revengefulness ; and each has a worm which shall eat out everlastingly the very core of his soul. Let the miser have still his thoughts upon gold, and the drunkard his upon the wine-cup, and the sensualist his up- on voluptuousness ; and a fire-sheet is round each which shall never be ex- tinguished. We know not whether it be possible to conjure up a more tem- fic image of a lost man, than by sup- posing him everlastingly preyed upon by the master-lust which has here held him in bondage. We think that you have before you the spectacle of a be- ing, hunted, as it were, by a never- weared fiend, when you imagine that there rages in the licentious and profli- gate — only wrought into a fury which has no parallel upon earth — -that very passion which it was the concern of a life-time to indulge, but which it must now be the employment of an eternity to deny. We are persuaded that you reach the summit of all that is tremen- dous in conception, when you suppose ^ a man consigned to the tyranny of a' lust which cannot be conquered, and which cannot be gratified. It is, liter- ally surrendering him to a worm which dies not, to a fire which is not quenched. And whilst the lust does the part of a ceaseless tormentor, the man, unable longer to indulge it, will writhe in re- morse at having endowed it with sov- ei-eignty : and thus there will go on (though not in our power to conceive, and, O God, grant it may never be our lot to experience) the cravings of pas- sion with the self-reproachings of the soul; and the torn and tossed creature shall for ever long to gi'atify lust, and for ever bewail his madness in gratify- ing it. Now you must perceive that in thus sketching the possible nature of future retribution, we only show that " what- soever a man soweth, that shall he also reap." We prove that sinfulness may be punishment, so that the things reaped shall be identical with the things sown, according to the word of the prophet Hosea, " they have sown the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind." Hosea, 8 : 7. We reckon that the principle of our text, when rigidly aj^plied, requires us to suppose the retribution of the un- T^HE POWER OF WICKEDNESS. godly the natural produce of their ac- tKnis. It shall not, perhaps, be that God will interpose with an apparatus of judgments, any more than he now in terposes with an apparatus for harden- ing, or confirming in impenitence. In- difference, if let alone, will produce obduracy ; and obduracy, if let alone, will produce torment. Obduracy is in- difforeuce multiplied : and thus it is the harvest from the grain. Torment is obduracy perpetuated and bemoaned : and this again is harvest — the grain re- produced, but with thorns round the ear. Thus, from first to last, " whatso- ever a man soweth, that also does he reap." We should be disposed to plead for the sound divinity, as well as the fine poetry of words which Milton puts into the mouth of Satan, when approach- ing to the survey of paradise. " Which way I fly is hell ; myself am hell." " Myself am hell ! " It is the very idea which we have extracted from our text ; 'the idea of a lost creature being his 'own tormentor, his own place of tor- ment. There shall be needed no reti- nue of wrath to heap on the fuel, or tighten the rack, or sharpen the goad. He cannot escape from himself, and ^'himself is hell. We would add that our text is not 'the only scriptural passage which inti- I mates that sinfulness shall spring up finto punishment, exactly as the seed J f.own produces the harvest. In the first chapter of the Book of Proverbs, the ' eternal wisdom marks out in terrible language the doom of the -scorners. " I also will laugh at your calamity, and mock when your fear cometh." Prov. 1 : 26. And then, when he would de- scribe their exact punishment, he says, '' they shall eat of the fruit of their own way, and be filled wdth their own de- vices." Prov. 1 : 31. They reap, you .'see, what they sow : their torments are '• their own devices." We have a simi- lar expression in the Book of Job : " even as I have seen, they that plough iniquity and sow wickedness reap the same." Job, 4 : 8. Thus again in the Book of Proverbs : " the backslider in heart shall be filled with his own ways." Prov. 14 : 14. We may add that so- lemn verse in the last chapter of the Book of Revelation, which seems to us exactly to the point. It is spoken in the prospect of Christ's immediate ap- pearing. " He that is unjust let him be unjust still ; and he which is filthy, let him be filthy still ; and he that is righte- ous, let him be righteous still ; and he that is holy, let him be holy still." Rev. 22 : 11. The master-property is here represented as remaining the master- property. The unjust continues for ever the unjust ; the filthy for ever the filthy. So that the indulged principle, keeps fast its ascendancy, as though, according to our foregoing supposition, it is to become the tormenting princi- ple. The distinguishing characteristic never departs. When it can no longer be served and gratified by its slave, it< wreaks its disappointment tremendously on its victim. There is thus a precise agreement between our text, as now expounded, and other portions of the Bible which refer to the same topic. We have in- deed, as you will observe, dealt chiefly with the sowing and the reaping of the wicked, and but just alluded to those of the righteous. It would not, how- ever, be difficult to prove to you, that, inasmuch as holiness is happiness, god liness shall be reward, even as sinful ness shall be punishment. And it clear that the apostle designed to in elude both cases under his statement for he subjoins as its illustration, " he that soweth to his flesh, shall of the flesh reap corruption ; but he that sow- eth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting." We cannot indeed plead, in the second case, for as rigid an application of the principle as in the first. We cannot argue, that is, for what we call the natural process of ve- getation. There must be constant in- terferences on the part of Deity. God himself, rather than man, is the sower. And unless God were continually busy with the seed, it could never germi- nate, and send up a hai-vest of glory. We think that this distinction between the cases is intimated by St. Paul. The one man sows " to the flesh ; " himself the husbandman, himself the teiritory. The other sows "to the Spirit," to the Holy Ghost ; and here there is a super- induced soil which diffei'S altogether from the natural. But if there be not, in each case, precisely the same, there is sufl^icient, rigor of application to bear out the assertion of our text. We re- member that it was " a crown of rio:h- > 70 THE POWER OF WICKEDNESS. teousness," 2 Tim. 4 : 8, which spar- kled before St. Paul; and we may, therefore, believe, that the righteous- ness which God's grace has nourished in the heart, will grow into recompense, ♦ just as the wickedness, in which the transgressor has indulged, will shoot into torment. So that, although it were easy to speak at greater length on the case of true believers, we may lay it down as a demonstrated truth, whether respect be had to the godly or the dis- obedient of the earth, that " whatso- ever a man soweth, that shall he also reap." And now, what mean ye to reap on I that grand harvest-day, the day of judg- ment 1 Every one of you is sowing ei- ther to the flesh, or to the Spirit ; and every one of you must, hereafter, take the sickle in his hand, and mow down the produce of his husbandry. We will speak no longer on things of terror. We have said enough to alarm the in- different. And we pray God that the careless amongst you may find these words of the prophet ringing in their ears, when they lie down to rest this night, " the harvest is passed, the sum- mer is ended, and we are not saved." Jer. 8 : 20. But, ere we conclude, we would address a word to the men of God, and animate them to the toils of tillage by the hopes of reaping. We know that it is with much opposition from in- dwelling coiTuption, with many thwart- ings from Satan and your evil hearts, that ye prosecute the work of breaking up your fallow ground, and sowing to yourselves in righteousness. Ye have to deal with a stubborn soil. The pro- phet Amos asks, " shall horses run upon the rock, will one plough there with oxen ]" Amos, 6 : 12. Yet this is pre- cisely what you have to do. It is the rock, " the heart of stone," which you must bring into cultivation. Yet be ye not dismayed. Above all things, pause not, as though doubtful whether to pro- secute a labor which seems to grow as it is performed. " No man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of heaven." Luke, 9 : 63. Rather comfort your- selves with that beautiful declaration of the Psalmist, " they that sow in tears shall reap in joy." Psalm 126 : 5. Ra- ther call to mind the saying of the apos- tle, " ye are God's husbandry." 2 Cor. 3:9. It is God, who, by his Spirit, ploughs the ground, and sows the seed, and imparts the influences of sun and shower. " My Father," said Jesus, " is the husbandman;" John, 15: 1; and can ye not feel assured that He will give the increase ? Look ye on to the harvest-time. What, though the winter be dreary and long, and there seem no shooting of the fig-tree to tell you that summer is nigh ] Christ shall yet speak to his church in that loveliest of poe- try, " Lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone, the flowers appear on the earth, the time of th-e singing of birds is come, and the voice of the tur- tle is heard in the land." Cant, 2 : 11, 12. Then shall be the harvest. We cannot tell you the glory of the things which ye shall reap. We cannot show you the wavings of the golden corn. But this we know, " that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that shall be revealed in us ; " Rom. 8 : 18 ; and, therefore brethren, beloved in the Lord, " be ye not weary in well-doing, for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not." Gal. 6 : 9. THE POWER OP RELIGION. 71 SERMON VII THE POWER OF RELIGION TO STRENGTHEN THE HUMAN INTELLECT. " The entrance of thy words giveth light; it giveth understanding to the simple." — Psalm cxix. 130. There is no point of view under which the Bible can be surveyed, and not commend itself to thinking minds as a precious and wonderful book. Travelling down to us across the waste of far-off' centuries, it brings the his- tory of times which must otherwise liave been given up to conjecture and fable. Instructing us as to the creation (j)f the magnificent universe, and defin- ing the authorship of that rich fiimi- ture, as well material as intellectual, with which this universe is stored, it delivers our minds from those vague and unsatisfying theories which reason, unaided in her searchings, proposed v/ith respect to the origin of all things. Opening up, moreover, a sublime and simple system of theology, it emanci- pates the world from degrading super- stitions, which, dishonoring Deity by the representations propounded of his character, turn vice into virtue, and so banish what is praiseworthy from hu- man society. And thus, if you kept out of sight the more important ends subserved by the disclosures of the Bible, there would be no single gift for which men stood so indebted to the Almighty as for the revelation of himself in the pages of Scripture. The great engine of civili- zation is still the written word of the Most High. And if you visit a tribe of our race in the lowest depths of barba- rism, and desire to bring up the debased creatures, and place them on their just level in the scale of existence, it is not by the enactments of earthly legisla- tion, any more than by the tyraimizings of earthly might, that you may look to bring speedily round the wished-for re- sult. The effective machinery is Chris- tianity, and Christianity alone. Propa- gate the tenets of this religion, as re- gistered in the Bible, and a mighty re- generation will go out over the face of the long-degraded community. We need hardly appeal, in proof of this assertion, to the records of the ef- fects of missionary enterprise. You are all aware, that, in many instances, a great change has been wrought, by the labors of faithful and self-denying men, on the savage clans amongst which they have settled. We omit, for the present, the incalculable advantages consequent on the introduction of Christianity, when another state of be- ing is brought into the account. We consider men simply with respect to their sojourning upon earth ; and we contend that the revolution, effected in temporal affairs, should win, even from those who prize not its disclo- sures in regard to eternal, the warmest admiration for the Bible. There has succeeded to lawlessness and violence the beautiful scenery of good order and peace. The rude beings, wont to wander to and fro, alternately the prey and the scourge of neighboring tribes, have settled down to the quiet occupa- tions of industry ; and, gathering them- selves into villages, and plying the business of handicraft or agriculture, have presented the aspect of a well- disciplined society in exchange for that. of a roving and piratical horde. And when a district which has heretofore, 72 THE POWER OF RELIGION. both morally and physically, been little better than a desert, puts forth in all its outspread the tokens of a vigorous culture ; and the Sabbath-bell summons from scattered cottages a smiling popu- lation, linked together by friendship, and happy in all the sweetness of do- mestic charities, why, the infidel must be something less than a man, if, with all his contempt for the Bible as a reve- lation ftom God, he refuse to admire and esteem it as a noble engine for uplifting humanity from its deep degradations. But we wish rather to draw off your thoughts from what the Bible has done for society at large, and to fix them on what it effects for individuals. It fol- f lows, of course, that, since society is the aggregate of individuals, what the Bible does for the mass is mainly the sum of what it does separately for the units. An effect upon society pre-sup- poses an effect on its component mem- bers in their individual caj^acities ; it being impossible that the whole should be changed except by the change of its parts. Now we are persuaded that there is no book, by the perusal of which the mind is so much strengthened, and so much enlarged, as it is by the perusal of the Bible. We deal not yet with the case of the man who, being under the teach- ings of God's Spirit, has the truths of re- velation opened up to him in their gigan- tic and overwhelming force. We shall come afterwards to the consideration of the circumstances of the converted ; we confine ourselves, for the present, to those of the unconverted. We re- quire nothing but an admission of the truth of the Scripture ; so that he who reads its declarations and statements, receives them as he would those of a writer of acknowledged veracity. And what we contend is, that the study of the Bible, even when supposed without influence on the soul, is calculated, far more than any other study, to enlarge the mind and strengthen the intellect. There is nothing so likely to elevate, and endow with new vigor, our facul- ties, as the bringing them into contact with stupendous truths, and the setting them to grasp and measure those truths. If the human mind grow dwarfish and ienfeebled, it is, ordinarily, because left to deal with common-place facts, and never summoned to the eftbrt of taking the span and altitude of broad and lofty disclosures. The understanding will gradually bring itself down to the di- mensions of the matters with which alone it is familiarized, till, having long been habituated to contracting its pow- ers, it shall well-nigh lose the ability of expanding them. But if it be for the enlargement of the mind, and the strengthening of its faculties, that acquaintance should be made with ponderous and far-spreading truths, it must be clear that knowledge of the Bible outdoes all other know- ledge in bringing round such result. We deny not that great effects may be \ wrought on the peasantry of a land by that wondrous diffusion of general in- formation which is now going forward through the instrumentality of the press. It is not possible that our penny magazines should be can-ying to the workshop of the artisan, and the cot- tage of the laborer, an actual library of varied intelligence, without produc- ing an universal outstretch of mind, whether for good, or whether for evil. But if a population could be made a Bible-reading population, we argue that it would be made a far more think- ing, and a far more intelligent popula- tion, than it will ever become through the turning its attention on simplified sciences and abbreviated histories. If I desired to enlarge a man's mind, 1 should like to fasten it on the truth that God never had beginning, and never shall have end. I would set it to the receiving this truth, and to the grap- pling with it. I know that, in endea- voring to comprehend this truth, the mind will be quickly mastered ; and that, in attempting to push on to its boundaiy-lines, it will fall down, wea- ried with travel, and see infinity still stretching beyond it. But the effort will have been a gi'and mental disci- pline. And he who has looked at this discovery of God, as made to us by the word of inspiration, is likely to have come away from the contemplation with his faculties elevated, and at the same time, humbled ; so that a vigor, allied in no degree with arrogance, will have been generated by the study of a Bible truth ; and the man, whilst strengthen- ing his mind by a mighty exercise, will have learned the hai'dest, and the most useful, of all lessons — that intellect is THE POWER OP RELIGION. ^3 not omnipotent, and that the greatest wisdom may be, oftentimes, the know- ing ourselves ignorant.^ We are not, you will observe, refer- ring to the Bible as containing the food of the soul, and as teaching man what he must learn, if he would not perish everlastingly. We are simply arguing, that the bringing men to study the Bi- ble would be the going a vast deal fur- ther towards making them strong-mind- ed, and intellectual, than the dispersing amongst them treatises on all the sub- jects which philosophy embraces. The Bible, whilst the only book for the soul, is the best book for the intellect. The sublimity of the topics of which it treats ; the dignified simplicity of its manner of handling them ; the noble- ness of the mysteries which it deve- lopes ; the illumination which it throws on points the most interesting to crea- tures conscious of immortality ; all these conspire to bring round a result which we insist upon as actual and necessary, namely, that the man who should study the Bible, and not be be- nefited by it spiritually, would be bene- fited by it intellectually. We think that it may be reckoned amongst incredible things, that converse should be held with the fii'St parents of our race ; that man should stand on this creation whilst its beauty was unsullied, and then mark the retinue of destruction careerins: with a dominant step over its surface ; that he should be admitted to inter- course with patriarchs and prophets, and move through scenes peopled with the majesties of the Eternal, and be- hold the Godhead himself coming down into humanity, and working out, in the mysterious coalition, the discomfiture of the powers of darkness — oh, we reckon it, we say, amongst incredible things, that all this should be permit- ted to a man — as it is permitted to every student of Scripture — and yet that he should not come back from the ennobling associations with a mind a hundred-fold more expanded, and a hundred-fold more elevated, than if he had given his time to the exploits of Ceesar, or poured forth his attention on the results of machinery. We speak not thus in any disparage- ment of the present unparalleled efforts to make knowledge accessible to all classes of our community. We are far enough from underrating such efforts : and we hold, unresci-vedly, that a vast and a beneficial effect may be wrought amongst the poor through the well-ap- plied agency of vigorous instruction. In the mind of many a peasant, whose^ every moment is bestowed on wring- ing from the soil a scanty subsistence, there slumber powei's, which, had they been evolved by early discipline, would have elevated their possessor to the first rank of philosophers ; and many a me- chanic, who goes patiently the round of unvaried toil, is, unconsciously, the owner of faculties, which, nursed and expanded by education, would have en- abled him to electrify senates, and to win that pre-eminence which men a- ward to the majesty of genius. There arise occasions, when — peculiar cir- cumstances aiding the development — the pent-up talent struggles loose from the trammels of pauperism ; and the peasant and mechanic, through a sud- den outbreak of mind, start forward to the places for which their intellect tits them. But ordinarily, the powers re- main through life bound-up and torpid: and he, therefore, forms but a contract- ed estimate of the amount of high men- tal endowment, who reckons by the proud marbles which cause the aisles of a cathedral to breathe the memory of departed greatness, and never thinks, when walking the village church-yard with its rude memorials of the fathers of the valley, that, possibly, there sleeps beneath his feet one who, if early tauo-ht, might have trode with a New- ton's step the firmament, or swept with a Milton's hand the harp-strings. We make, then, every admission (;f the power which there is in cultivation to enlarge and unfold the human under- standing. We nothing question that mental capacities are equally duUribu- ted amongst diiferent classes of socie- ty ; and that, if it were not for tlie ad- ventitious circumstances of birth, en- tailing the advantages of educatit^u, there would be sent out from the lower grades the same proportion as from the higher, of individuals distinguished by all the energies of talent. And thus believing that efiorts to dis- seminate knowledge may cause a ge- neral calling fijrth of the mental powers of our population, we have no other feeling but that of pleasure in the sur- 10 74 THE POWER OF RELIGION. I vey of these efforts. It is indeed pos- sible — and of this we have our fears — that, by sending a throng of pubUca- tions to the fireside of the cottager, you may draw him away from the Bi- ble, which has heretofore been special- ly the poor man's book, and thus inflict upon him, as we think, an intellectual injury, full as well as a moral. But, in the argument now in hand, we only up- hold the superiority of scriptural know- ledge, as compared with any other, when the alone object proposed is that of developing and improving the think- ing powers of mankind. And we reck- on that a fine triumph might be won for Christianity, by the taking two illiterate individuals, and subjecting them to two different processes of mental discipline. Let the one be made familiar with what is styled general information ; let the other be confined to what we call Bible information. And when, in each case, .he process has gone on a fair portion «)f time, aud you come to inquire whose reasoning faculties had been most im- proved, whose mind had most grown and expanded itself, we are persuaded that the scriptural study would vastly caiTy it over the miscellaneous ; and that the experiment would satisfactori- ly demonstrate, that no knowledge tells so much on the intellect of mankind as that which is furnished by the records of inspiration. And if the grounds of this persuasion be demanded, we think them so self- evident as scarcely to require the being formally advanced. We say again, that if you keep out of sight the concern which man has in Scriptural truths, re- irardina: him as born for eternity, there is a grandeur about these truths, and a splendor, and a beauty, which must amaze and fascinate him, if he look not beyond the present era of existence. In all the wide ransre of sciences, what o ... science is there comparable, m its sub- limity and difficulty, to the science of God 1 In all the annals of humankind, what history is there so curious, and so riveting, as that of the infancy of man, the cradling, so to speak, of the earth's population ] Where will you find a lawgiver from whose edicts may be learned a nobler jurisprudence than is exhibited by the statute-book of Moses 1 Whence will you gather such vivid illustrations of the power of truth as are furnished by the inarch of Chris- tianity, when apostles stood alone, and a whole world was against them 1 And if there be no book which treats of a loftier science, and none which con- tains a more interesting history, and none which more thoroughly discloses the principles of right and the prowess of truth ; why then, just so far as men- tal improvement can be proved depend- ent on acquaintance with scientific mat- ters, or historical, or legal, or ethical, the Bible, beyond all other books, must be counted the grand engine for achiev- ing that improvement : and we claim for the Holy Scriptures the illustrious distinction, that, containing whatsoever is needful for saving the soul, they pi-e- sent also whatsoever is best calculated j for strengthening the intellect. ..^^ Now we have not carried on our ar- gument to its utmost limit, though we have, perhaps, advanced enough for the illustration of our text. We might oc- cupy your attention with the language, as we have done with the matter, of holy writ. It were easy to show you that there is no human composition presenting, in anything of the same de- gree, the majesty of oratory and the loveliness of poetry. So that if the de- bate were simply on the best means of improving the taste of an individual — others might commend to his attention the classic page, or bring forward the standard works of a nation's literature ; but we, for our part, would chain him down to the study of Scripture ; and we would tell him, that, if he would learn what is noble verse, he must hearken to Isaiah sweeping the chords to Jerusalem's glory ; and if he would know what is powerful eloquence, he must stand by St. Paul pleading in bonds at Agrippa's tribunal. It suits not Our purpose to push fur- ther this inquiry. But we think it\ right to impress on you most earnest- ly the wonderful fact, that, if all tho books in the wide world wei-e assem- bled together, the Bible would as much take the lead in disciplining the un- derstanding, as in directing the soul. Living, as we do, in days when intel- lectual and scriptural are set down, practically, as opposite terms, and it seems admitted as an axiom that to ci- vilize and christianize, to make men in- telligent and to make men religious, THE POWER OP RELIGIOX. iS art things whicli have no necessary, nor eveu possible connection, it is well that we sometimes revert to the mat- ter-of-fact: and whilst every stripling is boastinof that a oreat enlargement of mind is coming on a nation, through the pouring into all its dwellings a tide of general information, it is right to uphold the forgotten position, that in caring for man as an immortal being, God cared for him as an intellectual ; and that, if the Bible were but read by our artisans and our peasantry, we should be surrounded by a far more enlightened and intelligent population than will appear on this land, when the school-master, wth his countless ma- gazines, shall have gone through it in y its length and in its breadth. But up to this point we have made no direct reference to those words of David which we brought forward as the subject of present discourse. Yet all our remarks have tended to their illustration. The Psalmist, addressing himself to his God, declares, "the en- trance of thy words giveth light, it giveth understanding to the simple." Now you will at once perceive, that, when taken in its largest signification, this verse ascribes to the Bible pre- cisely that energy for which we have contended. The assertion is, that the entrance of God's word gives light, and that it gives also understanding to the simple ; whilst it has been our en- deavor to show that a mind, dark through want of instruction, or weak through its powers being either natu- rally poor, or long unexercised, would become either illuminated, or strength- ened, through acquaintance with the contents of Scripture. We thus vindi- cate the truth of our text, when reli- gion, properly and strictly so called, is not brought into the account. We prove that the study of the Bible, when it does not terminate in the conversion of the soul, will terminate in the clearing and improvement of the intellect. So that you cannot find the sense Avhere- in it does not hold good, that " the en- trance of God's words giveth light, it giveth understanding to the simple." But we now go on to observe that the passage applies with a vastly great- er force to the converted than to the unconverted. We will employ the re- mainder of our time in examining its truth, when the student of Scripture is supposed also the subject of grace. It would seem as though this case were specially contemplated by the Psalm- ist, there being something in the phra- seology which loses otherwise much of its point. The exjjression " the en- trance of thy words," appears to denote moi"e than the simple perusal. The light breaks out, and the understanding is communicated, not through the mere reading of thy words, but through " the entrance of thy words :" the Bible be- ing effective only as its truths pierce, and go deeper than the surface. And although it must be readily conceded that the mere reading, apart from the entrance of the word, can effect none of those I'esults which we have already ascribed to the Bible, we still think the chief reference must be to an entrance into the soul, which is peculiar, rather than to that into the understanding, which is common. We may also remark that the marginal reading of the passage is " the opening of thy words giveth light." If we adopt this translation, which is, probably, the more accurate of the two, we must conclude that the Psalmist speaks of the word as inter- preted by God's Spirit, and not merely as perused by the student. It is not the word, the bare letter, which gives the light, and the understanding, spe- cially intended ; but the word, as open- ed, or applied by the Spirit. Now, in treating the text in this its more limit- ed signification, we have to do, first, with a fact, and secondly, with the rea- sons of that fact. The fact is, that, on conversion, there is given to man an increased measure of miderstanding. The reasons of this fact are to be look- ed for in another fact, namely, that conversion results from the entrance, or opening, of God's words. It will be for our profit that we consider atten- tively both the fact and the reasons. And, first, as to the fact, that, on be- coming a man of godliness, the simple becomes increasingly a man of under- standing. Now it is, we believe, commonly ob- served, by those who set themselves to examine the effects of religion upon different characters, that a general strengthening of the mind is amongst the usual accompaniments of piety. The instances, indeed, are of no rare n THE POWER OP RELIGION. occurrence in which a mental weak- ness, bordering ahnost on imbecility, has been succeeded by no inconsider- able soundness and strength of under- standing. The case has come within our own knowledge of an individual, who, before conversion, was accounted, to say the least, of very limited capa- cities ; but who, after conversion, dis- played such power of comprehending difficult truths, and such facility in stating them to others, that men of stanch and well-informed minds sought intercourse as a privilege. Something of the same kind has frequently been observed in regard to children. The grace of God has fallen, like the warm sun of tlie east, on their mental facul- ties ; and, ripening them into the rich- ness of the summer, whilst the body had as yet not passed through its spring- time, has caused that grey hairs might be instructed by the tender discipline, and brought a neighborhood round a death-bed to learn wisdom from the lips of a youth. And, without confining ourselves to instances which may be reckoned peculiar and extraordinary, we would assert that, in all cases, a marked change passes over the human mind when the heart is renewed by the influences of God's Spirit. We are not guilty of the absurdity of maintain- ing that there are supematurally com- municated any of those stores of infor- mation which are ordinarily gained by a patient and pains-taking application. A man will not become more of an as- tronomer than he was before, nor more of a chemist, nor more of a linguist. He will have no greater stock of know- ledge than he before possessed of sub- jects which most occupy the learned of his fellows. And if he would inform himself in such subjects, the man of re- ligion must give himself to the same labor as the man of no religion, and sit down, with the same industry, to the treatise and the grammar. The pea- sant, who becomes not the philosopher simply because his mental powers have ])een undisciplined, will not leave the j)lough for the orrery, because his un- derstanding is expanded by religion. Education might give, whilst religion will not give, the powers the philoso- phical bent. But there is a wide differ- ence between the strengthening the mind, and the storing it with informa- \ tion. We may plead for the former effect without at all supposing the lat- ter : though we shall come afterwards to see that information of the loftiest description is conveyed through the opening of the Bible, and that, conse- quently, if the impartment of know- ledge be an improving thing to the faculties, an improvement, the most marked, must result fi'om conversion. But we confine ourselves, at present, to the statement of a fact. We assert that, in all cases, a man is intellectual- ly, as well as spiritually, advantaged through becoming a man of piety. He will have a clearer and less-biassed judgment. His views will be wider, his estimates more correct. His under- standing, having been exercised on truths the most stupendous, will be more competent for the examination of what is difficult or obscure. His rea- son, having learned that much lies be- yond her province, as well as much within, will give herself to inquiries with greater humility and gi-eater cau- tion, and therefore, almost to a moral certainty, with greater success. And though we may thus seem rather to account for the fact than to prove it, let it be remembered that this fact, be- ing an effect, can only be established, either by pointing out causes, or by appealing to experience. The appeal to experience is, perhaps, the correcter mode of the two. And we, therefore, content ourselves with saying, that those who have watched character most narrowly, will bear out the state- ment, that the opening of God's word is followed, ordinarily, by a surprising opening of man's faculties. If you take"\ the rude and illiterate laborer, you will find that regeneration proves to him a sort of intellectual as well as a moral renovation. There shall generally be no ploughman in the village who is so sound, and shrewd, and clear-headed a man, as the one who is most attentive to the salvation of his soul. And if an individual have heretofore been obtuse and unintelligent, let him be converted, and there shall hereafter be commonly a quickness and animation ; so that re- ligion, whose prime business it is to shed light upon the heart, shall appear, at the same time, to have thrown fire into the eye. We do not, indeed, as- sert that genius and talent are imparted THE POWER OP RELIGION. at the new birth. But that it is amongst , the characteristics of godliness, that it elevates man in the scale of intellec- tual being; that it makes him a more thinking, and a more inquiring, and a more discriminating creature ; that it both rectifies and strengthens the men- tal vision ; we are guilty of no exagge- ration, if we contend for this as univer- sally true; and this, if not more than this, is asserted in the statement, that " the entrance of God's words giveth light, it giveth understanding to the » simple." But we are now, in the second place, to consider certain of the reasons of this fact. What is there in the entrance, or, more strictly, in the opening of God's words, which may fairly account for so singular a result 1 We begin by reminding you that the entrance, or opening of God's word, denotes the application of scriptural truth to the heart and conscience by that Almighty agent, the Holy Ghost. Hence a sav- ing, influential, belief in the disclo- sures of revelation is the distinguish- ing property of the individuals referred to in our text. And in inquiring, there- fore, how it comes to pass that under- standing is given to the simple, we are to proceed on the supposition, that he is endowed with real faith in those mighty truths which inspired writers were commissioned to make known. Thus the question before us is reduced to this — what connection subsists be- tween believing in the heart the words of God, and having the understanding enlightened and strengthened 1 Now our great difficulty is not in finding an answer to this question, but in arranging and condensing our mate- rial of reply. We would, first, remind you that the truths which have been commended to the belief are the most sublime and spirit-stirring of all that can engage the attention of mankind. They are the truths of eternity, and their dimensions correspond with their duration. And we feci that there must be an amazing demand u]ion the mind, when, after long years of confinement to the petty affairs of this perishing state, it is summoned to the survey of those unmeasured wonders which ci-owd the })latform of the future. (I take a man whose attention has been engrossed by commerce, and whose thoughts have been given wholly to the schemings and workings of trade. May we not affirm, that, when the grace of God takes possession of this man's soul, there will occur an extraordinary men- tal i-evolution; and that, too, brought round by the magnificence of the sub- jects with which his spirit has newly grown conversant 1 In place of oceans which can be fathomed, and weighed, and measured, there is an expanse be- fore him without a shore. In place of carrying on intercourse with none but the beings of his own race, separated from him by a few leagues of distance, he sends his vessels, as it were, to lands tenanted by the creatures of a more gloiious intelligence, and they re- turn to him, freighted with a produce costlier, and brighter, than earthly mer- chandise. In place of acquaintance with no ledger save the one in which he casts u}) the debtor and creditor of a few fellow-worms, there rises before him the vast volume of doomsday, and his fjazintjs are often on the final ba- lance-sheet of the human population^ And we simply demand whether you think it possible, that there should be this overpowering accession to the objects which occupy the mind, and yet that the mind itself should not grow, and enlarge, and strengthen 1 The mind which deals with both worlds cannot, in the nature of things, be so contracted as that which deals only with one. Can that be a large under-' standing which is conversant with no- thing but the scenery of a finite exist- ence ; or, rather, if heretofore the un- derstanding have gi'asped nothing but the facts of an hour and a league, and these have appeared to crowd it to the full, must there not have taken place a scarcely measurable enlargement, if eternity and infinity be now gathered within its spreadings 1 Besides, there will be a sounder and more correct judgment upon events and prcbabili- ties, when reference is always made to the first cause, than when regard is had only to second causes. There will be a fairer and more honest deliberation, when the passions are under the sway of divine promises and threatenings, than when there is no higher restraint than the ill-defined ones of human ho- nor. So that it ^v(luld seem altogether to be expected, that, on the mere ac- 'TV THE POWER OF RELIGION. count of the might and vastness of the truths, into acquaintance with which the mind is introduced, the mind itself will send forth latent and unsuspected powers, or even shoot up into a new stature which shall put to shame its former dwarfishness. Thus the open- ing of God's words is accompanied, or followed, by the rousing up of dormant energies. The sphere, which the sand- grain seemed to fill, is required to di- late, and take in immensity. The aiTn which plucked a leaf, or lifted a peb- ble, must strive to wrench up the oak, and raise the mountain. And in striv- ing it strengthens. The mind, employ- ed on what is great, becomes itself gi-eater ; busied with what is bright, it becomes itself brighter. Let the man, therefore, have been even of weak men- tal capacity — conversion will give some- thing; of nerve and tone to that capaci- ty. fBesides, it is a thing worthy your remark, and so obvious as scarcely to be oveilooked, that all love, except the love of God, reduces and contracts the soul. If a man be a covetous man, fast- ening the might of his affections upon money, you will ordinarily find him, in every I'espect, a narrow-minded being. His intellect, whatever its natural ca- pacities, will embrace little or nothing beyond modes of accumulation, and will grow practically unable to over- pass the circles of profit and loss. It is just the same, if a man's love be fixed on reputation. We hold it impos- sible there should be enlarged views, when those viev^^s centre in one's self There may be lofty and far-spreading schemes ; for ambition can look upon a world, and think it too small for its marchings. But so long as those schemes are schemes for the aggran- dizement of self, they may take a crea- tion for their sphere, and yet require to be described as pitiful and niggardly. It is no mark of an ample mind that it can be filled with an unit. And many a philanthropist laboring quietly and unobtrusively, for the well-being of a solitary parish, or neighborhood, has thereby proved himself a lai-ger-heart- ed and a larger-souled creature than an Alexander, boundless in his graspings ; and that, too, upon the clear and straight- forward principle, that a heart which holds only one's-self, is a narrower and more circumscribed thing than another which contains a multitude of our fel- lows. The truth is, that all objects of\ love, except God, are smaller than the \ heart itself They can only fill the I heart, through the heart being contract- ed and narrowedrj\ The human soul was framed, in its first creation, to that wideness as to be capable of enjoying God, though not of fully comprehend- ing him. And it still retains so much of its glorious original, that " all other things gather it in and straiten it from its natural size." * Whereas the love of God not only occupies it to the full, but, inasmuch as in its broadest en- largement it is still infinitely too nar- row for God, this love, as it were, doth stretch and expand it, enabling it to hold more, and giving it, at the same time, more to hold. Thus, since the converted man loves God, and this new object of love demands amplitude of dwelling, we contend that, as a conse- quence on conversion, there will be ex- tension of the whole mental apparatus. And if you find the man hereafter, as we are bold to say you will find him, exercising a corrector judgment, and displaying a shrewder sense, than had beforetime seemed in his possession, you have only to advance, in explana- tion of the phenomenon, that " the en- trance of God's word giveth under- standing to the simple." But we may state yet more strongly, and also multiply our reasons, why, on becoming religious, the simple man should become more a man of under- standing. Let it just be considered that man, whilst left in his state of natural corruption, is a being, in every respect, disorganized. Under no point of view is he the creature that he was, as fash- ioned, originally, after the image of his Maker. He can no longer act out any of the great ends of his creation : a total disability of loving and obeying the Almighty having been fastened on him by his forefather's apostacy. And when this deoraded and ruined beinsr is subjected to the saving operations of the Spirit of God, he is said to be re- newed, or remodelled, after the long- Leighton. THE POWER OF RELIGION. t9 lost resemblance. The conscience be- comes disquieted ; and tliis is convic- tion. The heart and its affections are given back to God ; and this is con- version. Now we do not say, that, by this great moral renovation, the inju- ries which the fall caused to the human intellect are necessarily repaired. Ne- vertheless, we shall assert that the mo- ral improvement is just calculated to bring about an intellectual. You all know how intimately mind and body are associated. One plays wonderfully on the other, so that disease of body may often be traced to gloom of mind, and conversely, gloom of mind be prov- ed to originate in disease of body. And if there be this close connection between mental and corporeal, shall we suppose there is none between mental and mo- ral ] On the contrary it is clear that the association, as before hinted, is of the strictest. What an influence do the passions exercise upon the judgment ! How is the voice of reason drowned in the cry of impetuous desires ! To what absurdities vvdll the understanding give assent, when the will has resolved to take up their advocacy ! How little way can truth make with the intellect, when there is something in its character which opposes the inclination ! And what do we infer from these undenia- ble facts'? Simply, that whilst the mo- ral functions are disordered, so likewise must be the mental. Simply, that so long as the heart is depraved and dis- turbed, the mind, in a certain degree, must itself be out of joint. And if you would give the mind fair play, there must be applied straightway a correc- tive process to the heart. You cannot tell what a man's understanding is, so long as he continues " dead in trespasses and sins." Ephesians, 2 : 1. There is a mountain upon it. It is tyrannized over by lusts, and passions, and affections, and appetites. It is compelled to form wrong estimates, and to arrive at wrong conclusions. It is not allowed to re- ceive as truth what the carnal nature has an interest in rejecting as false- hood. And what hope, then, is there that the intellect will show itself what it actually is 1 It may be gigantic, when it seems only puny ; respectable, when it passes for despicable. And thus we bring you back again to the argument in hand. We prove to you, that a weak mind may be so connected with a wick- ed heart, that to act on the wickedness would be going far towards acting on the weakness. Oh, fatal downfall of man's first parent — the image could not be shivered in its moral features, and reinain untouched in its intellectual. Well has it been said, that possibly " Athens was but the rudiments of Pa- radise, and an Aristotle only the rub- bish of Adam." * But if there be a mo- ral renovation, there will, from the connection now traced, be also, to a cer- tain extent, an intellectual. And hence since at the entrace of God's words the man is renewed in holiness, we have a right to expect that he will also be renewed in understanding. If addi- tional mental capacity be not given, what he before possessed is allowed to develope itself; and this is practically the same as though there were a fresh gift. If he receive not actually a greater measure of understanding, still, inas- much as the stern embargo which the heart laid on the intellect is mercifully removed, he is, virtually, under the same circumstances as if a new por- tion were bestowed. Thus, with all the precision which can fairly be re- quired in the interpretation of such a phrase, we prove that, since man is elevated in the scale of intelligence through being raised from his moral degradation, we are bound to conclude with the Psalmist, that " the entrance of God's words ofiveth lisfht, it civeth undei'standing to the simple." We have yet one more reason to ad- vance, explanatory of the connection which we set ourselves to trace. You observe that the entrance, or the open- ing, of God's words denotes such an application to the soul of the truths of revelation that they become influential on the life and conversation. Now. why should a man who lives by the Bible be, practically, possessed of a stronger and clearer understanding than, apparently, belonged to him ere this rule was adopt- ed ] The answer may be found in the facts, that it is a believer's duty, when- soever he lacks wisdom, to ask it of God, and a believer's privilege, never to be sent away empty. In all those Dr. South. m THE POWER OF RELIGION, cases which require the exercise of a sound discretion — which present oppo- site difficulties, rendering decision on a course painfully perplexing — who is likely to display the soundest judg- ment 1 the man who acts for himself, or another who seeks, and obtains, di- rection from above 'I We plead not for rash and unfounded ex2)ectations of a divine interference on our behalf. We simply hold fast to the promises of Scripture. And we pronounce it to be beyond all peradventure, that, if the Bible be true, it is also true that they who have been translated from dark- ness to light are never left without the aids of God's Spirit, unless they seek not those aids, or seek them not ear- nestly and faithfully. If I have known the entrance, or the opening of the word of our God, then I have practically learned such lessons as these : " lean not to thine own understanding ; " " in all thy ways acknowledge Him, and he shall direct thy paths." Prov. 3 : 5, 6. And if I am not to lean to mine own understanding, and if I have the privi- lege of being directed by a higher than mine own, it is evident that I occupy, practically, the position of one to whom has been given an increased ineasure of understanding ; and what, conse- quently, is to prevent the simple man, whose rule of life is God's word, from acting in all circumstances, whether oi'- dinary or extraordinary, with such pru- dence, and discretion, and judgment, that he shall make good, to the very letter, the assertion, that " the entrance of God's words giveth light, it giveth understanding to the simple 1 " Now it is not possible to gather into a single discourse the varied reasons which might be given for the fact un- der review. But the causes already adduced will serve to show, that the fact is, at least, by no means unaccount- able : but that, on the contrary, the connection is so necessary between spiritual improvement and intellectual, that amongst the accompaniments of a renewed heart, we may justly reckon a clearer head. We desire, in conclusion, to press upon you once more the worth of the Bible, and then to wind up our subject with a word of exhortation. Of all the boons which God has be- stowed on this apostate and oi'phaned creation, we are bound to say that the \ Bible is the noblest and most precious. [ We bring not into comparison with this illustrious donation the glorious sun- light, nor the I'ich sustenance which is poured forth from the store-houses of the earth, nor that existence itself which allows us, though dust, to soar into conipanionship with angels. The Bible is the developement of man's immor- tality, the guide which informs how he may move off triumphantly from a con- tracted and temporary scene, and grasp destinies of unbounded splendor, eter- nity his life-time and infinity his home. It is the record which tells us that this rebellious section of God's unlimited empire is not excluded from our Ma-| ker's compassions ; but that the crea-j tures who move upon its surface, though, they have basely sepulchred in sinful- ness and corruption the magnificence! of their nature, are yet so dear in their ruin to Him who first formed them, that, he hath bowed down the heavens in or- der to open their graves. Oh, you have' only to think what a change would pass on the aspect of our race, if the Bible were suddenly withdrawn, and all re- membrance of it swept away, and you arrive at some faint notion of the worth of the volume. Take from Christendom the Bible, and you hare taken the moral chart by which alone its population can be guided. Ignorant of the nature of God, and only guessing at their own immortality, the tens of thousands would be as mariners, tossed on a wide ocean, without a pole-star, and without a compass. It were to mantle the earth with a more than Egyptian darkness : it were to dry up the fountains of hu- man happiness : it were to take the tides from our waters, and leave them stagnant, and the stars from our hea- vens, and leave them in sackcloth, and the verdure from our valleys, and leave them in barrenness : it were to make the present all recklessness and the future all hopelessness — the maniac's revelry and then the fiend's imprison- ment — if you could anniliilate that pre- cious volume which tells us of God and of Christ, and unveils immortality, and instructs in duty, and woos to glory. Such is the Bible. Prize ye it, and stu- 1 dy it more and more. Pjize it, as ye | are immortal beings — for it guides to j the New Jerusalem. Prize it, as ye are THE POWER OF UELIGION. intellectual beings — for it " giveth un- derstanding to the simple. " We have now only space for a brief word of exhortation, and we ask for it your closest attention. A minister, if he would be faithful to his calling, must mark the signs of the times, and endea- vor so to shape his addresses that they may meet, and expose, the prominent errors. Now we think that, in our own day, there is a strong disposition to put aside the Bible, and to seek out other agency for accomplishing results which God hath appointed it to effect. We fear, for example, that the intellectual benefits of Scriptural knowledge are well-nigh entirely overlooked ; and that, in the efforts to raise the standard of mind, there is little or no recognition of the mighty principle, that the Bible outweighs ten thousand Encyclopaedias. And we are fearful on your account, lest something of this national substi- tution of human literature for divine should gain footing in your households. We fear lest, in the business of educa- tion, you should separate broadly that teaciiing which has to do with the sal- vation of the soul, from that which has to do with the improvement of the mind. We refer to this point, because we think ourselves bound, by the vows of our calling, to take every opportunity of stating the duties which devolve on you as parents or guardians. There is a sense in which it may be affirmed that souls, those mysterious and imperish- able things, are given into the custody of every father of a family. And we are persuaded that If there be one thing on this earth, which draws, inore than an- other, the sorrowing regards of the world of spirits, it must be the system of education pursued by the generality of parents, f The entering a room grace- fully is a vast deal more attended to than the entering into heaven ; and you would conclude that the grand thing for which God had sent the child Into the world, was that it might catch the Italian accent, and be quite at home in every note of the gamut. Christianity, indeed, is not at variance with the ele- gancies of life : she can use them as her handmaids, and give them a beauty of which, out of her service, they are ut- terly destitute. Wo wage no war, there- fore, with accomplishments, any more than with the solid acquirements of a liberal education. We are only anxious to press on you the necessity that ye make religion the basis of your system,^ We admit, in all its breadth, the truth of the saying, that knowledge Is power. It is power — ay, a fatal and a perilous. Neither the might of armies, nor the scheming of politicians, avails any thing against this power. The school-master, as we have already hinted, is the grand engine for revolutionizing a world. Let knowledge be generally diffused,! and the fear of God be kept In the back- j ground, and you have done the same for a country as if you had laid the gunpowder under its every institution : there needs only the igniting of a match, and the land shall be strewed with the fragments of all that is glorious and venerable. But, nevertheless, we would not have knowledge chained up in the college and monastery, because its arm Is endowed with such sinew and nerve. We would not put forth a finger to up- hold a system which we believed based on the ignorance of a population. We only desire to see knowledge of God advance as the vanguard of the host of Information. We are sure that an in- tellectual must be a mighty peasantry. But we are equally sure that an in- tellectual, and a godless, will demon- strate their might, by the ease with which they crush whatever most a- dorns and elevates a kingdom. And In speaking to you individually of your duties as parents, we would bring into the family circle the principles thus announced as applicable to the na- tional. We want not to set bounds/ to the amount of knowledge which/ you strive to impart. But never letl this remembrance be swept from your 1 minds — that, to give a child knowledge ' without endeavoring, at the same time, ' to add to knowledge godliness, is to do your best to throw the momen- tum of the giant into the arm of the idiot : to construct a machinery which may help to move a world, and to leave out the spring which would insure its moving it only towards God. We would have you shun, even as you would the tampering with an Immortality depo- sited in your keeping, the imitating what goes on in a thousand of the households of a professedly Christian neighborhood — the children can pro- nounce well, and they can step well, 11 62 THE POWER OP RELIGION. and they can play well ; the mother proudly exhibits the specimens of pro- fiency in painting, and the father dwells, with an air of delight, on the progress made in Virgil and Homer — but if you inquire how far these parents are providing for their own in the things of eternity, why, the children have per- hajas learned the Church Catechism, and they read a chapter occasionally on a Sunday afternoon. And that ye may avoid the mistake into which, as we think, the temper of the times is but too likely to lead you, we would have you learn, from the subject which has now been discussed, that, in edu- , eating your children for the next life, I you best educate them for the present. We give it you, as a truth, made known to us by Grod, and, at the same time de- monstrable by reason, that, in going through the courses of Bible-instruc- tion, there is better mental discipline, whether for a child or an adult, than in any of the cleverly devised methods for opening and strengthening the facul- ties. We say not that the study of Scripture should exclude other studies, or be substituted for them. Natural philosophy is not to be learned from Scripture nor general history ; and we would not have such matters neglected. But we say that Scriptural study should be, at once, the ground-work and com- panion of every other; and that the mind will advance, with the firmest and most dominant step, into the variovis departments of knowledge, when fami- liarized with the truths of revelation, and accustomed to walk their unlimited spreadings. If parents had no higher ambition than to make their children in- tellectual, they would act most shrewd- ly by acting as though desirous to make them religious. It is thus we apply our subject to those amongst you who are parents or guardians. But it applies to all. We call upon you all to observe, that, in place of being beneath the no- tice of the intellectual, the Bible is the great nourisher of intellect. We re- quire of you to bear away to your homes as an undeniable fact, that to \ care for the soul is to cultivate the mind. We will not yield the culture ' of the understanding to earthly hus- bandmen. There are heavenly minis- ters who water it with a choicer dew, and pour on it the beams of a more brilliant sun, and prune its branches with a kinder and more skilful hand. We will not give up reason to stand always as a priestess at the altars of human philosophy. She hath a more majestic temple to tread, and more beauteous robes wherein to walk, and incense rarer and more fragrant to burn in golden censers. She does well when exploring boldly God's visible works. She does better, when she meekly sub- mits to spiritual teaching, and sits, as a child, at the Savior's feet : for then shall she experience the truth, that " the entrance of God's words giveth lis^ht and understandinsf." And, there- I fore, be ye heedful — the young amongst ' you more especially — that ye be not/ ashamed of piety, as though it argued' a feeble capacity. Rather be assured, 1 forasmuch as revelation is the great strengthener of reason, that the march I of mind which leaves the Bible in the. rear is an advance, like that of our first parents in Paradise, towards know-' ledge, but, at the same time, towardsl death. » ood's provision for the poor. 83 SERMON VIII THE PROVISION MADE BY GOD FOR THE POOR. " Tbou, O God, haat prepared of thy goodness for the poor." — Psaxm, Ixviii. 10. We think it one of the most remark- able sayings of holy writ, that " the poor shall never cease out of the land." Deut. 15: 11. The words maybe re- garded as a prophecy, and their fulfil- ment has been every way most surpri- sing. Amid all the revolutions whereof our earth has been the scene — revolu- tions which have presented to us em- pire after empire rising to the summit of greatness, and gathering into its pro- vinces the wealth of the world — there has never been a nation over which riches have been equally diffused. The many have had poverty for their por- tion, whilst abundance has been poured into the laps of the few. And if you reftise to consider this as a divine ap- pointment, it will be hard, we think, to account for the phenomenon. It might have been expected that the distribu- tion of physical comfort would be pro- poi'tioned to the ainount of physical strength ; so that numbers would dic- tate to individuals ; and the power of bone and muscle be brought to bear on the production of equality of circum- stance. And just in the degree that we recognize the fulfilment of prophecy in the continuance of poverty, we must be prepared to allow, that the unequal distribution of temporal advantages is a result of the Almighty's good plea- sure ; and that, consequently, all popu- lar harangues on equality of rights are nothing less than contradictions to the assertions, " the rich and poor meet to- gether, the Lord is the maker of them all." Proverbs, 22 : 2. There is no easier subject for stormy and factious declamation, than the hard and unnatural estate of poverty. The slightest reference to it engages, at once, the feelings of a multitude. And whensoever a bold and talented dema- gogue works up into his speeches the doctrine, that all men are born with equal rights, he plies his audience with the strongest excitement, but does, at the same time, great despite to the word of inspiration. We hold it to be clear to every student of Scripture, that God hath ordained successive ranks in human society, and that uniformity of earthly allotment was never contem- plated by his providence. And, there- fore, do we likewise hold, that attempts at equalization would be tantamount to rebellion against the appointments of heaven ; and that infidelity must up- heave the altars of a land, ere its in- habitants could venture out on such enterprise. It is just that enterprise which may be looked for as the off- spring of a doctrine demonstrable only when the Bible shall have perished — the doctrine, that all power emanates from the people. When a population have been nursed into the belief that sovereignty is theirs, the likelihood is that the first assertion of this sover- eignty will be the seizing the posses- sions of those who gave them the les- son. The readiest way of overturning the rights of property is to introduce false theories on the origin of power. And they must, at the least, be short- sighted calculators, who, having taught our mechanics and laborers that they are the true king of the land, expect them to continue well contented with the title, and quite willing that superi- ors should keep the advantages. But our main concern lies, at pre- 84 GOD S PROVISION FOR THE POOR. sent, with the fact, that poverty is an appointment of God. We assume this fact as one not to be questioned by a christian congregation. And when we have fastened on the truth that God hath appointed poverty, we must set ourselves to ascertain that God hath not overlooked the poor ; there being nothing upon which we may have a greater prior certainty than on this, namely, that if it be God's will that the poor should not cease, it must also be his arrangement that the poor should be cared for. Now our text is a concise, but strik- ing, declaration that the solicitudes of God are engaged on the side of the poor. It would seem, indeed, from the context, that spiritual blessings were specially intended by the Psalmist, when addressing himself to God in the words to be examined. He speaks of the Almighty as sending a plentiful rain, and refi'eshing the weary inherit- ance. And we think it required by the nature of this imagery, as comjjared with the rest of scriptural metaphor, that we understand an outpouring of the Spirit as the mercy which David commemorates. But still there is no- thing, either in the words themselves, or in those which accompany them, re- quiring that we circumscribe the bear- ings of the passage. We may take it as a general truth, that " thou, O God, hast prepared of thy goodness for the poor." And we shall, therefore, en- deavor to turn your thoughts on two separate inquiries ; examining, in the first place, how the assertion holds good in temporal things, and in the se- cond place, how it holds good in spi- ritual things. This second inquiry is the more closely connected with the business of our Sabbath assemblings, and we shall give it, therefore, the main of our time and attention. Now if we set ourselves to establish as a matter-of-fact, that, in temporal things, God, of his goodness, has pre- pared for the poor, we seem, at once, arrested in our demonstration by that undeniable wretchedness which lies heavy on the mass of a crowded popu- lation. But it would be altogether wrong that we should judge any ap- pointment of God, without reference being had to the distortions which man has himself introduced. We feel assured upon the point, that, in con structing the framework of society, God designed that one class should de- pend greatly on another, and that soiue should have nothing but a hai-d-carned pittance, whilst others were charioted in plenty. But we are to the full as clear upon another point, namely, that if in any case there be positive destitu- tion, it is not to be referred to the es- tablished ordinance of God, but only to some forgetfulness, or violation, of that mutual dependence which this or- dinance would encourage. There has never yet been the state of things — and, in spite of the fears of political economists, we know not that there ever will be — in which the produce of this earth sufficed not for its popula- tion. God has given the globe for the dwelling-place of man, and, causing that its valleys stand thick with corn, scatters food over its surface to satisfy the wants of an enormous and multi- plying tenantry. And unless you can show that he hath sent such excess of inhabitants into this district of his em- pire, that there cannot be wrung for them sufficiency of sustenance from the overtasked soil, you will have made no advances towards a demonstration, that the veriest outcast, worn to a mere skeleton by famine, disproves the as- sertion, that God, of his goodness, has prepared for the poor. The question is not whether every poor man obtains enough : for this brings into the ac- count human management. It is sim- ply, whether God has given enough ; for this limits our thoughts to divine appointment. And beyond all doubt, when we take this plain and straight- forward view of the subject, we cannot put from us the conclusion that God, of his goodness, has prepared for the poor. If he had so limited the produc- tiveness of the earth that it would yield only enough for a fraction of its inha- bitants ; and if he had allowed that the storehouses of nature might be exhaust- ed by the demands of the myriads whom he summoned into life ; there would lie objections against a statement which ascribes to his goodness the having made an universal provision. But if — and we have here a point admitting not of controversy — he have always hith- erto caused that the productions of the globe should keep pace with its popu- M god's provision for the poor. 85 lation, it is nothing better than the reasoning of a child, that God hath not provided for the poor, because through j mal-administration of his bounties, the poor may, in certain cases, have been wholly unprovided for. And it is worth your while to observe, that God prepared more than mere sus- tenance for the poor, when he endowed the soil with its surprising, and still undeveloped productiveness. We are indebted to the ground on which we tread for the arts which adorn, and the learning which ennobles, as well as for the food which sustains human life. If God had thrown such barrenness into the earth that it would yield only enough to support those who tilled it, you may all perceive that every man must have labored at agriculture for himself; there being no overplus of produce which the toil of one individual could have pro- cured for another. Thus, if you exa- mine with any carefulness, you must necessarily discover, that the sole rea- son why this company of men can de- vote themselves to the business of le- gislation, and that to the stvidy of juris- prudence; why we may erect schools, and universities, and so set apart indi- viduals who shall employ themselves on the instruction of their fellows ; why we can have armies to defend the poor man's cottage and the rich man's pa- lace, and navies to prosecute commerce, and preachers to stand up in our cities and villages, pointing mankind to Jesus of Nazareth — that the alone practical reas(jn of all this must be sought in the fertility of the soil: for if the soil were not fertile enough to yield more than the tiller requires for himself, every man must be a husbandman, and none could follow any other avocations. So that, by an arrangement which appears the more wonderful the more it is pon- dered, God hath literally wi'Ought into the soil of this globe a provision for the varied wants, physical and moral, and intellectual, of the race whose ge- nerations possess successively, its pro- vinces. That which made wealth pos- sible was equally a preparation for the well-being of poverty. And though you may trace, with a curious accuracy, the rise and progress of sciences ; and map down the steps of the march of civilization ; and show how, in the ad- vancings of a nation, the talented and enterprising have carried on crusades against ignorance and barbarism; we can still bring you back to the dust out of which we were made, and bid you find in its particles the elements of the results on which your admiration is poured, and tie you down, with the ri- gor of a mathematical demonstration, to the marvellous, though half-forgot- ten, fact, that God invested the ground with the power of ministering to man's many necessities — so that the arts by which the comforts of a population are multiplied, and the laws by which their rights are upheld, and the schools in which their minds are disciplined, and the churches in which their souls are instructed — all these may be referred to one and the same grand ordinance; all ascribed to that fruitfulness of the earth by which God, " of his goodness, has prepared for the poor." But we said that we should dwell at no great length on the first division of our subject; and we now, therefore, pass on to investigate the second. We are to show how the assertion holds good in spiritual things, that God, of his goodness, has prepared for the poor. Now we often set before you the noble doctrine of Scripture and our Church, that Christ died for the whole world ; and that, consequently, the hu- man being can never be born whose sins were not laid on the surety of the apostate. It is a deep and mysterious, but glorious, truth, that the sins of evei"y man were punished in Jesus, so that the guiltiness of each individual pressed in upon the Mediator, and wrung out its penalties from his flesh and his spirit. The person of Christ Jesus was divine ; whilst in that person were united two natures, the human and divine. And on this account it was that the sins of every man could rush against the surety, and take their pe- nalty out of his anguish. It is not merely that Christ was the brother of every man. A man and his brother are Avalled-off, and separated, by their per- sonality. What is done by the one can- not be felt, as his own action, by the other. But Christ, by assuming our nature, took, as it were, a part of eve- ry man. He was not, as any of us is, a mere human individual. But having hu- man nature, and not human personality, he was tied, so to speak, by a most sen- 86 GOD S PROVISION FOR THE POOR. sitive fibre, to each member of the enormous family of man. And along these unnumbered threads of sympathy there came travelling the evil deeds, and the evil thoughts, and the evil words, of every child of a rebellious seed ; and they knocked at his heart, and asked for vengeance : and thus the sin became his own in every thing but its guiltiness ; and the wondrous result was brought round, that he " who did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth," 1 Peter, 2: 22, felt every sin which can ever be committed, and was pierced by it, and torn by it: and the alone innocent one — the solitary unde- filed and unprofaned man — he was so bound up with each rebel against God that the rebellion, in all its ramifica- tions, seemed to throw itself into his heart; and, convulsing where it could not contaminate, dislocated the soul which it did not defile, and caused the thorough endurance of all the wretch- edness, and all the ansruish, which were due to the transgressions of a mighty population. Ay, and it is because I can clearly perceive, that, in taking human nature, Christ fastened me to himself by one of those sympathetic threads v/hlch can never be snapped, that I feel certified that every sin which I have committed, and every sin which I shall yet commit, went in upon the Mediator and swelled his sufferings. When he died, my sins, indeed, had not been per- petrated. Yet, forasmuch as they were to be perpetrated in the nature which he had taken to himself, they came crowding up from the unborn ages : and they ran, like molten lead, along the fibre which, even then, bound me to the Savior ; and pouring themselves into the sanctuary of his righteous soul, contributed to the wringing from him the mysterious cry, " mine iniquities " — mine, done in that nature, which is emphatically mine — " mine iniquities have taken hold upon me so that I am not able to look up ; they are more than the hairs of my head; therefore my heart faileth me." Psalm, 40 : 12. Now it was thus with a distinct and specific reference to every individual, the poorest and the meanest of our race, that " the word was made flesh," John, 1 : 14, and dwelt and died upon this earth. It was not merely that God cared for the world in the mass, as for a province of his empire tenanted by the wayward and the wretched. He cared for each single descendant of Adam. We know, with an assurance which it is beyond the power of argu- ment to shake, that Christ Jesus tasted death for every man. We are commis- sioned to say to each individual — it matters not who he be, scorched by an eastern sun, or girt in by polar snows — the Son of the Eternal died for thee, for thee separately, for thee individu- ally. And if, then, you cannot find us the outcast unredeemed by the costly processes of the incarnation and cruci- fixion; if, addressing ourselves to the least known, and the most insignificant of our species, we can tell him that, though he be but a unit, yea almost a cipher in the vast sum of human exist- ence, he has so engaged the solicitudes of the Almighty that a divine person undertook his suretyship, and threw down the barriers which sin had cast up between him and happiness — oh, have we not an overpowering proof, that God has been mindful of the des- pised ones and the destitute ; and -whilst we can appeal to such provision on be- half of the poor as places heaven with- in their reach, in all its magnificence, and in all its blessedness, where is the tongue that can presume to deny that God hath, " of his goodness, prepared for the poor 1 " But we cannot content ourselves with this general proof. It seems implied in our text — that this is the point which we seek to establish — that, in spiritual things, God has prepared for the poor even more than for the rich. We pro- ceed, then, to obsen^e that God has so manifested a tender and impartial con- cern for his creatures, as to have thrown advantages round poverty which may well be said to counterbalance its dis- advantages. It is unquestionable that the condition of a poor man is more favorable than that of a rich to the re- ception of Christ. Had not this been matter-of-fact, the Redeemer would ne- ver have pronounced it "easier for a camel to go through a needle's eye, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of heaven." Luke, 18 : 25. There is in poverty what we may al- most call a natui'al tendency to the lead- ing men to dependence on God, and faith in his promises. On tlie other GOD S PROVISION FOR THE POOR. 87 hand, there is in wealth just as natural a tendency to the production of a spirit of haughty and infidel independence. The poor man, harassed with difficul- ties in earning a scanty subsistence for himself and his household, will have a readier ear for tidings of a bright home beyond the gi-ave, than the rich man, who, lapped in luxury, can imagine no- thing more delightful than the unbro- ken continuance of present enjoyments. Poverty, in short, is a humiliating and depressing thing; whilst affluence nur- tures pride and elation of mind. And in proportion, therefore, as all which has kinsmanship with humility is favor- able to piety, all which has kinsman- ship with haughtiness unfavorable, we may f"airly argue that the poor man has an advantage over the rich, considering them both as appointed to immortality. But not only has God thus merciful- ly introduced a kind of natural coun- terpoise to the allowed evils of pover- ty : in the institution of a method of redemption, he may specially be said to have prepared for the mean and the destitute. There is nothing in the pre- scribed duties of religion, which, in the least degree, requires that a man should bo a man of learning or leisure. We take the husbandman at his plough, or the manufacturer at his loom; and we can tell him, that, whilst he goes on, uninterruptedly, with his daily toil, the grand business of his soul's salvation may advance with an uniform march. We do not require that he should relax in his industi-y, or abstract some hours from usual occupations, in order to learn a complicated plan, and study a scheme which demands time and intel- lect for its mastery. The Gospel mes- sage is so exquisitely simple, the sum and substance of truth may be so gath- ered into brief and easily understood sentences, that all which it is absolute- ly necessary to know may be told in a minute, and borne about with him by the laborer in the field, or the mariner on the \vaters, or the soldier on the battlo-plain. We reckon it far the most wonderful feature in the Bible, that, whilst presenting a sphere for the long- est and most pains-taking research — exhibiting heights which no soarings of imagination can scale, and depths which no fiithoming-line of intellect can explore — it sets forth the way of salva- tion with so much of unadorned plain- ness, that it may as readily be under- stood by the child or the peasant, as by the full-grown man or the deep-read philosopher. Who vnll keep back the tribute of acknowledgment that God, of his own goodness, has prepared for the poor '? If an individual be possess- ed of commanding genius, gifted with powers which far remove him from the herd of his fellows, he will find in the pages of Scripture beauties, and diffi- culties, and secrets, and wonders, which a long life-time of study shall leave un- exhausted. But the man of no preten- sions to talent, and of no opportunities for research, may turn to the Bible in quest of comfort and direction ; and there he will find traced as with a sun- beam, so that none but the wilfully blind can overlook the record, guidance for the lost, and consolation for the downcast. We say that it is in this preparation for the poor that the word of God is most sui-prising. View the matter how you will, the Bible is as much the unlearned man's book as it is the learned, as much the poor man's as it is the rich. It is so comjjosed as to suit all ages and all classes. And whilst the man of learning and capacity is poring upon the volume in the retirement of his closet, and employing all the stores of a varied literature on the illustrating its obscurities and the solving its diffi- culties, the laborer may be sitting at his cottage-door, with his boys and his girls drawn around him, explaining to them, from the simp]y-^\Titten pages, how great is the Almighty, and how precious is Jesus. Nay, we shall not overstep the boundaries of truth if we carry these statements yet a little fur- ther. We hold that the Bible is even more the poor man's book than the rich man's. There is a vast deal of the Bi- ble which appears written with the ex- press design of verifying our text, that God, of his goodness, has " prepared for the poor." There are many of the promises which seem to demand pov- erty as the element wherein alone their full lustre can radiate. The prejudices, moreover, of the poor man against the truths which the volume opens up are likely to be less strong, and inveterate, than those of the rich man. He seems to have, naturally, a kind of compan- ionship with a suflbring Redeemer, who 88 GOD S PROVISION FOR THE POOR. had not " where to lay his head." Luke, 8 : 58. He can have no repugnance, but, on the contrary, a sort of instinc- tive attachment, to apostles who, like himself, wrought with their own hands for the supply of daily necessities. He can feel himself, if we may use such expression, at home in the scenery, and amongst the leading characters, of the New Testament. Whereas, on the other hand, the scientific man, aiid the man of education, and of influence, and of high bearing in society, will have pi"e- possessions, and habits of thinking, with which the announcements of the Gros- pel will unavoidably jar. He has, as it were, to be brought down to the level of the poor man, before he can pass un- der the gateway which stands at the outset of the path of salvation. He has to begin by learning the comparative worthlessness of many distinctions, which, never having been placed with- in the poor man's reach, stand not as obstacles to his heavenward progress. And if there be correctness in this re- presentation, it is quite evident that if the Gospel be, for the first time, put into the hands, or proclaimed in the hearing, of a man of rank and of a mean man, the likelihood is far greater that the mean man will lay hold, effective- ly and savingly, on the truth, than that the inan of lank will thus grasp it : and our conclusion, therefore, comes out strong and irresistible, that, if there be advantage on either side, the Bible is even more nicely adapted to the poor than to the rich ; and that, consequent- ly, it is most emphatically true, that, " thou, O Crod, hast prepared of thy goodness for the poor." But there is yet another point on which we think it well to turn briefly your attention ; for it is one vvliich is, oftentimes, not a little misunderstood. We know that what are termed the evi- dences of Chi'istianity are of a costly and intricate dsicription, scarcely ac- cessible except to the studious. It is hardly to be supposed that the imlet- tered man can have mastered the ex- ternal arguments which go to prove the divine origin of our faith. And if the Almighty have placed the witness for the truth of Christianity beyond the poor man's grasp, has he not left the poor man open to the inroads of scep- ticism ; and how, therefore, can it be said that he has of his goodness '* pre- pared for the poor 1 " There is much in the aspect of the times which gives powerful interest to such a question as this. Whilst all ranks are assailed by the emissaries of infidelity, it is import- ant that we see whether God has not prepared for all ranks some engines of resistance. Now we are never afraid of subject- ing the external evidences of Christi- anity to the most sifting processes which our adversaries can invent. We do not I'eceive a religion without proof; and our proof we will bring to the best touchstones of truth. Christianity is not the gi'ave, but the field of vigorous inquiry. And we see not, therefore, why scepticism should claim to itself a monopoly of intellect. The high- road to reputation for talent seems to be boldness in denying Christianity. Ay, and many a young man passes now- a-days for a fine and original genius, who could not distinguish himself in the honorable competitions of an uni- versity, who makes no way in his pro- fession, and is nothing better than a cypher in society ; but who is of so in- dependent a spirit that be can jeer at jjriestcraft in a club-room, and of so in- ventive a turn that he can ])ly Scrip- ture with objections a hundred times refuted. But the evidences of Cliristianity are not to be set aside by a sneer. We will take our stand as on a inount thrown up in the broad waste of many genera- tions ; and one century after another shall struggle forth from the sepulchres of the past; and each, as its moaarch.s, and its warriors, and its priests, walk dimly under review, shall lay down a tribute at the feet of Christianity. We will have the volume of history spread out before us, and bid science arrange her manifold developments, and seek the bones of martyi-s in the east and in the west, and tread upon battle-plains with an empire's dust sepulchred be- neath; but on whatsoever we gaze, and whithersoever we turn, the evidences of our religion shall look nobler, and wax mightier. It were the work of a life-time to gain even cursory acquaint- ance with the proofs which substan- tiate the claims of Christianity. It would beat down the energies of the most gifted and masterful spirit, to re- god's provision for the rOOFw 89 quire it. to search out, and concen- trate, Avhatsoever attests the truth of the Gospel — for the mountains of the earth have a voice, and the cities, and the valleys, and the tombs; and the sail must be unfurled to bear the inquirer over every ocean, and the wings of the morning must carry him to the outskirts of infinite space. We will not concede that a more over- whelming demonstration would be giv- en to the man who should stand side by side with a messenger from the in- visible world, and hear from celestial lips the spirit-stirring news of redemp- tion, and be assured of the reality of the interview by a fiery cross left stamped on his forehead, than is ac- tually to be attained by him who sits down patiently and assiduously, and plies, with all the diligence of an un- wearied laborer in the mine of informa- tion, at accumulating and arranging the evidences of Christianity. So that we may well think ourselves v/avranted in contending that God has marvellously prepared for the faith of educated men. Scepticism, whatever its boasts, walks to its conclusions over a fettered rea- son, and a forgotten creation. And any man who will study carefully, and think candidly, shall rise from his inquiry a believer in revelation. But what say we to the case of the poor man? How hath God, of his good- ness, "prepared for the poorl" It may- be certain that the external evidences of Christianity amount to a demonstra- tion, which, when fairly put, is altoge- ther irresistible. But it is just as cer- tain that the generality of believers can have little or no acquaintance with these evidences. It were virtually the laying an interdict on the Christianity of the lower orders, to establish a ne- cessity, that mastery of the evidences must precede belief in the doctrines of the Gospel. We can see no result but that of lim.itlng the very existence of religion to the academy or the cloister, and prohibiting its circulation through the dense masses of our population, if the only method of certifying one's- self that the Bible is from God were that of searching through the annals of antiquity, and following out the tes- timony arranged by the labors of suc- cessive generations. And yet, on the other hand, it were just as fatal to the Christianity of our peasantry, to main- tain that they take for granted the di- vine origin of the Gospel, and that they can give no better reason than that of long-established custom, why the Bi- ble should be received as a communi- cation from heaven. We say that this would be as fatal as the former suppo- sition to the Christianity of our peasan- try. A belief which has nothing to rest on, deserves not to be designated belief; and, unable to sustain itself by reason, must yield at the first onset of scepticism. But there can be nothing more un- just than the conclusion, that the poor man has no evidence within reach, be- cause he has not the external. We will not allow that God has failed, in this respect, to prepare for the poor. We will go into the cottage of the poor disciple of Christ, and we will say to him, v.'hy do you believe upon Jesus % You know little or nothing about the witness of antiquity. You know little or nothing about the completion of pro- phecy. You can give me no logical, no grammatical, no historical reasons for concluding the Bible to be, what it pro- fesses itself, a revelation, made in early times, of the will of the Almighty. Why then do you believe upon Jesus 1 What grounds have you for faith, what basis of conviction 1 Now if the poor man lay bare his ex- perience, he will, probably, show how God hath prepared for hiu), by giving such a reply as the following: 1 lived long unconcerned about the soul. I thought only on the pleasures of to- day: I cared nothing for the worm which might gnaw me to-morrow. I was brought, however, by sickness, or by disappointment, or by the death of the one 1 best loved, or by a startling sermon, to fear that all was not right between me and God. I grew more and more anxious. Terrors haunted me by day, and sleep went from mj?- pillow by night. At length I was bidden to look unto Jesus as " delivered for my ofTen- ces, and raised again for my justifica- tion." Romans, 4 : 25. Instantly I felt him to be exactly the Savior that I needed. Every want found in him an immediate supply ; every fear a cordial j every wound a balm. And ever since, the more I have read of the Bible, the more have I found that it must have 12 90 GOD S PROVISION FOR THE POOR. been written on purpose for myself. It seems to know all my cares, all my temptations ; and it speaks so beauti- fully a word in season, that he who wrote it must, I think, have had me in his eye. Why do I believe in Jesus 1 Oh, I feel him to be a Divine Savior — that is my proof. Why do 1 believe the Bible 1 I have found it to be God's word — there is my witness. We think, assuredly, that if you take the experience of the generality of christians, you Avill find that they do not believe without proof. We again say, that we cannot assent to the pro- position, that the Christianity of our villages and hamlets takes for granted the truth of the Bible, and has no rea- son to give when that truth is called in question. The peasant who, when the hard toil of the day is concluded, will sit by his fireside, and read the Bible with all the eagerness, and all the confidence, of one who receives it as a message from God, has some better ground than common report, or the tradition of his forefathers, on which to rest his persuasion of the divinity of the volume. The book speaks to him with a force which he feels never could belong to a mere human composition. There is drawn such a picture of his own heart — a picture presenting many features which he would not have dis- covered, had they not been thus out- lined, but which he recognizes as most accurate, the instant they are exhibit- ed — that he can be sure that the painter is none other but he who alone search- es the heart. The proposed deliverance agrees so wonderfully, and so minutely with his wants ; it manifests such un- bounded and equal concern for the ho- nor of God, and the well-being of man ; it provides, with so consummate a skill, that, Avhilst the human race is redeem- ed, the divine attributes shall be glori- fied ; that it were like telling him that a creature spread out the firmament, and inlaid it with worlds, to tell him that the proffered salvation is the de- vice of impostors, or the figment of en- thusiasts. And thus the pious inmate of the workshop or the cottage " hath the witness in himself." 1 St. John, 5 : 10. The home-thrusts which he re- ceives from " the sword of the Spirit," Ephesians, 6 : 17, are his evidence that the weapon is not of earthly manufac- ture. The surprising manner in which texts will start, as it were, from the page, and become spoken things rather than Avritten ; so that the Bible, shak- ing itself from the trammels of the printing-press, seems to rush from the firmament in the breathings of the Om- nipotent — this stamps Scripture to him as literally God's word — prophets and apostles may have Avritten it, but the Almighty still utters it. And all this makes the evidence with which the poor man is prepared in defence of Christianity. We do not represent, it as an evidence which may successively be brought forward in professed com- bat with infidelity. It must have been experienced before it can be admitted; and not being of a nature to commend itself distinctly to the understanding of the sceptic, will be rejected by him as visionary, and therefore, received not in proof. But, if the self-evidencing power of Scripture render not the pea- sant a match for the unbeliever, it no- bly secures him against being himself overborne. " The v/itness in himself," if it qualify him not, like science and scholarship, for the offensive, will ren- der him quite impregnable, so long as he stands on the defensive. And we believe of many a village christian, who has never read a line on the evidences of Christianity, and whose whole theo- logy is drawn from the Bible itself, that he would be, to the full, as stanch in withstanding the emissaries of scep- ticism as the mightiest and best equip- ped of our learned divines ; and that, if he could give no answer to his assailant whilst urging his chronological and his- torical objections, yet by falling back on his own experience, and entrench- ing himself within the manifestations of truth which have been made to his own conscience, he would escape the giving harborage, for one instant, to a suspi- cion that Christianity is a fable ; and holds fast, in all its beauty, and in all its integrity, the truth, that " we have an advocate with the Father, Christ Jesus the righteous, and he is the pro- pitiation of our sins." 1 John, 2 : 1. Yea, and it is a growing and strength- ening evidence which God, of his good- ness, has thus prepared for our poor. Whensoever they obey a direction of Scripture, and find the accompanying promise fulfilled, this is a new proof GOB S PROVISION FOR THE POOR. 91 that the direction and the promise are from God. The book tells them that blessings are to be sought and obtained through the name of Christ. They ask and they receive. What is this but a witness that the book is divine 1 Would God give his sanction to a lie 1 The book assures them that the Holy Spirit will gradually sanctify those who be- lieve upon Jesus. They find the sanc- tification following on the belief; and does not this attest the authority of the volume 1 The book declares that " all things work together for good," Rom. 8 : 28, to the disciples of Jesus. They find that prosperity and adversity, as each brings its trials, so each its les- sons and supports ; and whilst God thus continually verifies a declaration, can they doubt that he made it 1 And thus, day by day, the self-evidencing power of Scripture comes into fuller opera- tion, and experience multiplies and strengthens the internal testimony. The peasant will discover more and more that the Bible and the conscience so fit into each other, that the artificer who made one must have equally fa- shioned both. His life will be an on- going proof that Scripture is truth ; for his days and hours are its chapters and verses realized to the letter. And others may admire the shield which the indus- try and ingenuity of learned men have throAvn over Christianity. They may speak of the solid rampart cast up by the labor of ages; and pronounce the faith unassailable, because historj', and philosophy, and science, have all com- bined to gird round it the iron, and the rock, of a ponderous and colossal demonstration. We, for our part, glory most in the fact, that Scripture so com- mends itself to the conscience, and ex- perience so bears out the Bible, that the Gospel can go the round of the world, and carry with it, in all its tra- vel, its own mighty credentials. And though we depreciate not, but rather confess thankfully, the worth of exter- nal evidence, we still think it the no- blest provision of God, that if the ex- ternal were destroyed, the internal would remain, and uphold splendidly Christianity. There is nothing which we reckon more wonderful in arrange- ment, nothing more deserving all the warmth of our gratitude, than that di- vine truth, by its innate power, could compel the Corinthian sceptic, 1 Cor. H : 25, to fall down upon his face ; and that this truth, by the same innate power, can so satisfy a reader of its own ori- gin, that ploughmen, as well as theolo- gians, have reason for their hope ; and the Christianity of villages, as much as the Christianity of universities, can de- fy infidelity, and hold on undaunted by all the buffetings of the adversary. And if we now sum up this portion of our argument, we may say, that God has so constructed his word that it carries wiih it its own witness to the poor man's intellect, and the poor man's heart. Thus, although it were idle to contend that the poor can show you, with a learned precision, the authenti- city of Scripture, or call in the aids which philosophy has furnished, or strengthen their faith from the won- derworkings of nature, or mount and snatch conviction from the glittering tracery on the overhead canopy; still they may feel, whilst perusing the Bible, that it so speaks to the heart, that it tells them so fully all they most want to know, that it so verifies itself in every-day experience, that it hum- bles them so much and rejoices them so much, that it strikes with such en- ergy on every chord — in short, that it so commends itself to every facul- ty as purely divine — that they could sooner believe that God made not the stars, than that God wrote not the Scriptures: and thus, equipped with powerful machinery for resisting the infidel, they give proof the most con- clusive, that "thou, O God, hast pre- pared, of thy goodness, for the poor." Such are the illustrations which we would advance of the truth of our text, when reference is had to spiritual pro- vision. We shall only, in conclusion, commend the subject to your earnest meditation ; assuring you that the more it is examined, the more it will be found fraught with interest and instruction. There is something exquisitely touch- ing in an exhibition of God as provid- ing sedulously, both in temporal and spiritual things, for the poor and illi- terate. "The eyes of all wait upon thee, and thou givest them their meat in due season." Psalm 145 : 15. God is that marvellous being to whom the only great thing is Himself. A world is to Hini an atom, and an atom is to 92 god's provision for the poor. Him a world. And as, therefore, he cannot be mastered by what is vast and enormous, so he cannot overlook what is minute and insignificant. There is not, then, a smile on a poor man's cheek, and there is not a tear in a poor man's eye, either of which is indepen- dent on the providence of Him who gilds, with the lustre of his coun- tenance, the unlimited concave, and measures, in the hollow of his hand, the waters of fathomless oceans. And that "the poor have the Gospel preached to them," Matt. 11 : 5, is one of the strong- est evidences on the side of Christiani- ty. It was given to John the Baptist as a nnark by which he might prove Christ the promised Messiah. He might hence learn that Jesus had come, not to inake God known, exclusively, to the learned and great; but that, break- ing loose from the trammels of a figura- tive dispensation, he was dealing with the mechanic at his wheel, and with the slave at his drudgery, and with the beggar in his destitution. Had Christ sent to the imprisoned servant of the Lord, and told him he was fascinating the philosopher with sublime disclo- sures of the nature of Deity, and draw- ing after him the learned of the earth by powerful and rhetorical delineations of the wonders of the invisible world ; that, all the while, he had no communi- cations for the poor and commonplace crowd; why, John might have been dazzled, for a time, by the splendor of his miracles, and he might have mused, wonderingly, on the displayed ascen- dancy over diseases and death ; but, quickly, he must have thought, this is not revealing God to the ignorant and destitute, and this cannot be the reli- gion designed for all nations and ranks. But when the announcement of won- der workings was followed by the decla- ration that glad tidings of deliverance were being published to the poor, the Baptist would readily perceive, that the long looked-for close to a limited dispensation Avas contemplated in the mission of Jesus ; that Jesus, in short, was introducing precisely the system which Messiah might be expected to introduce; and thus, finding that the doctrines bore out the miracles, he would admit at once his pretensions, not merely because he gave sight to the blind, but because, preaching the Gospel to the ignorant, he showed that God, of his goodness, had prepared for the poor. And that the Gospel should be adapt- ed, as well as preached, to the poor — adapted in credentials as well as in doctrines — this is one of those ar- rangements, which, as devised, show infinite love, as executed, infinite wis- dom. Who will deny that God hath thrown himself into Christianity, even as into the system of the visible uni- verse, since the meanest can trace his footsteps, and feel themselves environ- ed with the marchings of the Eternal One '\ Oh, we do think it cause of mighty gratulation, in days when in- fidelity, no longer confining itself to literary circles, has gone down to the homes and haunts of our peasantry, and seeks to prosecute an impious crusade am.ongst the very lowest of our people — we do think it cause of mighty gratulation, that God should have thus garrisoned the poor against the inroads of scepticism. We have no fears for the vital and substantial Christianity of the humbler classes of society. They may seem, at first sight, unequipped for the combat. On a hu- man calculation, it might mount almost to a certainty, that infidel publications, or infidel men, working their way into the cottages of the land, would gain an easy victory, and bear down, with- out difficulty, the faith and piety of the unprepared inmates. But God has had a care for the poor of the flock. He loves them too well to leave them defenceless. And now — appealing to that witness which every one who be- lieves will find in himself — we can feel that the Christianity of the illiterate has in it as much of stamina as the Chris- tianity of the educated; and Ave can,^ therefore, be confident that the scep- ticism which shrinks from the batte- ries of the learned theologian, will gain no triumphs at the firesides of our God-fearing rustics. We thank thee, O Father of heaven and earth, that thou hast thus made the Gospel of thy Son its own witness, and its own rampart. We thank thee that thou didst so breathe thyself into apostles and prophets, that their wri- tings are thine utterance, and declare to all ages thine authorship. And now, what have we to ask, but that, if there ST. PAUL A TENT-MAKER. 93 be one here who has hitherto been stouthearted and vinbelieving, the de- livered word may prove itself divine, by "piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit;" Heb. 4: 12 ; and that, whilst we announce that "God is angry with the wicked," Psalm 7:11; that those who forget Him shall be turned into hell ; but that, nevertheless, he hath " so loved the world as to give his only-begotten Son," John, 3 : 16, for its redemption — oh, we ask that the careless one, hearing truths at once so terrifying, and so encouraging, may be humbled to the dust, and yet animated with hope ; and that, stirred by the divinity which embodies itself in the message, he may flee, " poor in spirit," Mat. 5 : 3, to Jesus, and, drawing out of his fulness, be enabled to testify to all around, that " thou, O God, hast of thy goodness prepared for the poor." SERMON IX. ST. PAUL A TENT-MAKER. "And because he was of the same craft, he abode with them and wrought, for by their occupation tliey were tent-makers." — Acts, 18 : 3. The argument v/hich may be drawn, in support of Christianity, from the humble condition of its earliest teach- ers, is often, and fairly, insisted on in disputations with the sceptic. We scarcely know a finer vantage-ground, on which the champion of truth can plant himself, than that of the greater credulity which must be shown in the rejection, than in the reception, of Christianity. We mean to assert, in spite of the tauntings of those most thorough of all bondsmen, free-think- ers, that the faith required from deni- ers of revelation is far larger than that demanded from its advocates. He who thinks that the setting up of Christiani- ty may satisfactorily be accounted for on the supposition of its falsehood, taxes credulity a vast deal more than he who believes all the prodigies, and all the miracles, recorded in Scripture. The most marvellous of all prodigies, and the most surpassing of all mira- cles, would be the progress of the chris- tian religion, supposing it untrue. And, assuredly, he Avho has wrought himself into the belief that such a wonder has been exhibited, can have no right to boast himself shrewder, and more cau- tious, than he who holds, that, at hu- man bidding, the sun stood still, or that tempests were hushed, and graves ri- fled, at the command of one " found in fashion" as ourselves. The fact that Christianity strode onward with a re- sistless march, making triumphant Avay against the banded power, and learn- ing, and prejudices of the world — this fact, we say, requires to be accounted for ; and inasmuch as there is no room for questioning its accuracy, we ask, in all justice, to be furnished with its explanation. We turn, naturally, from the result to the engines bj?^ which, to all human appearance, the result was brought round ; from the system preach.- ed to the preachers themselves. Were 94 ST. PAUL A TENT-MAKER. those who first propounded Christiani- ty men who, from station in society, and influence over their fellows, were likely to succeed in palming falsehood on the world 1 Were they possessed of such machinery of intelligence, and wealth, and might, and science, that — every allowance being made for human credulity and human infatuation — there would appear the very lowest proba- bility, that, having forged a lie, they could have caused it speedily to be venerated as truth, and carried along the earth's diameter amid the worship- pings of thousands of the earth's popu- lation 1 We have no intention, on the present occasion, of pursuing the argu- ment. But we are persuaded that no candid mind can observe the speed with which Christianity overran the civilized world, compelling the homage of kings, and casting down the altars of long- cherished superstitions ; and then com- pare the means Avith the efl^ect — the apostles, men of low birth, and poor education, backed by no authority, and possessed of none of those high-wrought endowments which mark out the a- chievers of difficult enterprise — we are persuaded, we say, that no candid mind can set what was done side by side with the apparatus through which it was ef- fected, and not confess, that, of all in- credible things, the most incredible would be, that a few fishermen of Gali- lee vanquished the world, upheaving its idolatries, and mastering its prejudices, and yet that their only weapon was a lie, their only mechanism jugglery and deceit. And this it is which the sceptic be- lieves. Yea, on his belief of this he grounds claims to a sounder, and shrewder, and less fettered understand- ing, than belongs to the mass of his feflows. He deems it the mark of a weak and ill-disciplined intellect to ad- mit the truth of Christ's raising the dead ; but appeals, in proof of a stanch and well-informed mind, to his belief that this whole planet was convulsed by the blow of an infant. He scorns the narrow-mindedness of submission to what he calls priestcraft ; but counts himself large-minded, because he ad- mits that a priestcraft, only worthy his contempt, ground into powder every system which he thinks worthy of his admiration. He laughs at the credu- lity of supposing that God had to do with the institution of Christianity ; and then applauds the sobriety of referring to chance what bears all the marks of design — proving himself rational by holding that causes are not necessary to effects. Thus we recur to our position, that, if the charge of credulity must be fast- ened on either the opponents, or the advocates, of Christianity, then, of the two, the opponents lie vastly most open to the accusation. Men pretend to a more than ordinary wisdom because they reject, as incredible, occurrences and transactions which others account for as supernatural. But Avhere is their much-vaunted wisdom, when it can be shown, to a demonstration, that they admit things a thousand-fold stranger than those, which, with all the parade of intellectual superiority, they throw from them as too monstrous for cre- dence '? We give it you as a truth, sus- ceptible of the rigor of mathematical proof, that the phenomena of Christiani- ty can only be explained by conceding its divinity. If Christianity came from God, there is an agency adequate to the result ; and you can solve its mak- ing way amongst the nations. But if Christianity came not from God, no agency can be assigned at all commen- surate with the result j and you cannot account for its marchings over the face of the earth. So that when — setting aside every other consideration — we mark the palpable unfitness of the apos- tles for devising, and carrying into effect, a grand scheme of imposture, we feel that we do right in retorting on the sceptic the often-urged charge of credulity. We tell him, that, if it prove a clear-sighted intellect, to be- lieve that unsupported men would league in an enterprise which was no- thing less than a crusade against the world; that ignorant men could coii- coct a system overpassing, confessedly, the wisdom of the noblest of the hea- then ; and that the insignificant and unequipped band Avould go through fire and water, brave the lion and dare the stake, knowing, all the while, that they battled for a lie, and crowned, all the while, with overpowering success — ay, we tell the sceptic, that, if a belief such as this prove a clear-sighted in- tellect, he is welcome to the laurels of ST, PAVL, A TENT-MAKER 95 reason : and we, for our part, shall con- tentedly herd with the irrational, who are weak enough to think it credible that the apostles were messengers from God ; and only incredible that moun- tains fell when there was nothing to shake them, and oceans dried up when there was nothing to drain them, and -that there passed over a creation an un- measured revolution, without a cause, and without a mover, and without a Deity, Now we have advanced these hur- ried remarks on a well-known topic of christian advocacy, because our text leads us, as it were, into the work- shop of the first teachers of our faith, and thus forces on us the contem- plation of their lowly and destitute estate. It is not, however, our design to pursue further the argument. We may derive other, and not less impor- tant, lessons from the simple exhibi- tion of Paul, and Aquila, and Priscilla, plying their occupation as tent-makers. It should just be premised, that, so far as Paul himself is concerned, Ave must set down his laboring for a living as actually a consequence, on his preach- ing Christianity, Before he engaged in the service of Christ, he had occupied a station in the upper walks of society, and was not, we may believe, depen- dent on his industry for his bread. It was, however, the custom of the Jews to teach children, whatever the rank of their parents, some kind of handi- craft ; so that, in case of a reverse of circumstances, they might have a re- source to which to betake themselves, "We conclude that, in accordance with this custom, St. Paul, as a boy, had learned the art of tent-making ; though he may not have exercised it for a sub- sistence until he had spent all in the service of Jesus, We appeal not, there- fore, to the instance of this great apos- tle to the Gentiles as confirming, in every respect, our foregoing argument. St. Paul was eminent both for learning and talent. And it would not, therefore, be just to reason from his presumed incompetency to carry on a difficult scheme, since, at the least, he was not disqualified for undertakings which crave a master-spirit at their head. It is certain, however, that, in these respects, St. Paul was an exception to the rest of the first preachers of Chris- tianity. Our general reasoning, there- fore, remains quite unaffected, what- ever be urged in regard to a particular case. But we have already said, that the main business of our discourse is to derive other lessons from our text than that which refers to the evidences of Christianity, We wave, therefore, fur- ther inquiry into that proof of the di- vinity of the system which is furnished by the poverty of the teachers. We will sit down, as it were, by St, Paul whilst busied with his tent-making; and, considering who and what the in- dividual is who thus lives by his arti- sanship, draw that instruction from the scene which we may suppose it intend- ed to furnish. Now called as St. Paul had been by miracle to the apostleship of Christ, so that he was suddenly transformed from a persecutor into a preacher of the faith, we might well look to find in him a pre-eminent zeal; just as though the unearthly light, which flashed across his path, had entered into his heart, and lit up there a fire inextinguishable by the deepest waters of trouble. And it is beyond all peradventure, that there never moved upon our earth a heartier, more unwearied, more energetic, disci- ple of Jesus, His motto was to '' count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ ;" Phil, 2 : S ; and crossing seas, and exhausting con- tinents, till a vast portion of the known world had heard from his lips the ti- dings of redemption, he proved the motto engraven on his soul, and show- ed that the desire of bringing the per- ishing into acquaintance with a Savior was nothing less than the life's-blood of his system. And we are bound to suppose, that, where there existed so glowing a zeal, prompting him to be " instant in season, out of season," 2 Tim, 4 : 2, the irksomeness of mechani- cal labor must have been greater than it is easy to compute. Since the whole soul Avas wrapped up in the work of the ministry, it could not have been with- out a feeling, amounting almost to pain- fulness, that the apostle abstracted him- self from the business of his embassage, and toiled at providing for his own bo- dily necessities. We see, at once, that so far as any appointment of God could be grievous to a man of St. Paul's ex- 96 ST. PAUL. A TENr-MAKKK. emplary holiness, this appointment must have been hard to endure : and we can- not contemplate the great apostle, with- drawn from the spirit-stirring scenes of his combats with idolatry, and earning a iTieal like a common artificer, and not feel, that the effort of addressing the Athenians, congregated on Areopagus, was as nothing to that of sitting down patiently to all the drudgery of the craftsman. But we go on to infer from these un- questionable facts, that, unless there had been great ends Avhich St, Paul's laboring subserved, God would not have permitted this sore exercise of his ser- vant. There is allotted to no christian a trial without a reason. And if then we are once certified, that the working for his bread was a trial to St. Paul, v.'e must go forward and investigate the reasons of the appointment. Now we learn from the epistles of St. Paul, that when he refused to be maintained by the churches v/hich he planted, it was through fear that the success of his preaching might be in- terfered with by suspicions of his dis- interestedness. He chose to give the Gospel without cost, in order that his enemies might have no plea for repre- senting him as an hireling, and thus de- preciating his message. In this respect he appears to have acted differently from the other apostles, since we find liim thus expostulating with the Corin- thians : " have we not power to eat and to drink 1 or I only and Barnabas, have not we power to forbear working ]" 1 Cor. 9 : 4, 6. He evidently argues, that, had he so pleased, he might justly have done what his fellow-apostles did, re- ceive temporal benefits from those to whom they were the instruments of communicating spiritual. It was a law, whose justice admitted not of contro- versy, that " the laborer is worthy of his hire." 1 Tim. 5 : 18. And, there- fore, however circumstances might arise, rendering it advisable that the right should be waved, St. Paul desired the Corinthians to understand, that, had he chosen, he might have claimed the sustenance for which he was contented to toil. It vvas a right, and not a favor, which he waved. And if there were no other lesson deducible from the manual occupation of the apostle, we should do well to ponder the direction thus practically given, that we remove all occasions of offence. St. Paul gave up even his rights, fearing lest their en- forcement might possibly impede the progress of the Gospel. So single-eyed was this great teacher of the C^entiles, that when the reception of the mes- sage, and the maintenance of the mes- senger, seemed at all likely to clash, he would gladly devote the day to the service of others, and then toil through the night to make provision for himself. If ever, therefore, it happen, either to minister or to people, to find that the pushhig a claim, or the insisting on a right would bring discredit, though un- justly and wrongfully, on the cause of religion ; let it be remembered that our prime business, as professors of godli- ness, is with the glory of God and the advance of the Gospel ; that the avoid- ing evil is a great thing, but that the scriptural requisition is, that we avoid even the " appearance of evil." 1 Thess. 5 : 22. And if there seem to us a hard- ness in this, so that we count it too much of concession, that we fall back from demands which strict justice would warrant, let us betake ourselves, for an instant, to the workshop of St. Paul ; and there remembering, Avhilst this servant of Christ is fashioning the canvass, that he labors for bread, which, by an indisputable title, is already his own, we may learn^it a christian's duty to allow himself to be wronged, when, by stanch standing to his rights, Christ's cause may be injured. But as yet we are only on the out- skirts of our subject. The grand field of inquiry still remains to be traversed. We have seen, that, in order to fore- close all question of his sincerity and disinterestedness, St. Paul chose to ply at his tent-making rather than derive a maintenance from his preaching. We next observe, that, had not his poverty been on other accounts advantageous, we can scarcely think that this single reason v/ould have procured its permis- sion. He might have refused to draw an income from his converts, and yet not have been necessitated to betake himself to handicraft. We know that God could have poured in upon him, through a thousand channels, the means of subsistence ; and we believe, there- fore, that had his toiling subserved no end but the removal of causes of of- ST. PAUL A TENT-MAKER. 97 fence, his wants would have been sup- plied, though without any burden on the churches. So that the question comes before us, unsolved and unex- amined, why was it permitted that St. Paul, in the midst of his exertions as a minister of Christ, should be compelled to support himself by manual occupa- tion % We think that two great reasons may be advanced, each of which will deserve a careful examination. In the first place, God hereby put much honor upon industry : in the second place, God hereby showed, that where he has appointed means, he will not work by miracles. We will take these reasons in succession, proceeding at once to endeavor to prove, that, in leaving St. Paul to toil as a tent-maker, God put much honor upon industry. Now it is true that the appointment, " in the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread," Gen. 3 : 19, was part of the original malediction which apostacy caused to be breathed over this crea- tion. But it is equally true that labor was God's ordinance whilst man kept vinsullied his loyalty, and that it was not bound upon our race as altogether a consequence on transgression. We may not believe that in paradise labor could ever have been wearisome ; but we know that, from the first, labor was actually man's business. We are told, in the book of Genesis, that when the Lord God had planted the garden, and fashioned man after his own image, " he took the man and put him into the garden, to dress it, and to keep it."' Gen. 2 : 15. There was no curse upon the ground; and, therefore, we sup- pose not that it required, ere it would give forth a produce, the processes of a diligent husbandrJ^ But, neverthe- less, it is clear that the resting of God's first blessing on the soil put not aside all necessity of culture. Man was a laborer from the beginning: God's ear- liest ordinance appearing to have been that man should not be an idler. So that whilst we admit that all that pain- fulness and exhaustion, Avhich waits ordinarily upon human occupation, must be traced up to disobedience as a parent, we contend that employment is distinctly God's institution for man- kind, no reference whatsoever being made to the innocence or guiltiness of the race. Gcd sanctified the seventh day as a day of rest, before Adam dis- obeyed, and thus marked out six days as days of labor and employment, be- fore sin sowed the seeds of the thorn and the thistle. We may suppose, that, previously to the fall, labor, so to spealc, was just one department of piety ; and that in tilling the ground, or watching the herds, man was as religiously occu- pied as when communing with God in distinct acts of devotion. The great and fatal alteration which sin has intro- duced into labor, is, that a wide sepa- ration has been made between tempo- ral business and spiritual ; so that, whilst engaged in providing for the body, we seem wholly detached from payino- attention to the concerns of the soul. But we hold it of first-rate im- portance to teach men that this sepa- ration is of their own making, and not of God's appointing. God ordain- ed labor : and God also ordained that man's great business on earth should be to secure his soul's safety through eternity. And \mless, therefore, we admit that the work of the soul's sal- vation may be actually advanced by, and through, our worldly occupations, we set one ordinance of God against an- other, and represent ourselves as im- peded, by the appointments of our Ma- ker, in the very business most pressed on our "performance. The matter-of- fact is, that God may as truly be served by the husbandman whilst ploughing up his ground, and by the manufactu- rer whilst toiling at his loom, and by the merchant whilst engaged in his commerce, as he can be by any of these men when gathered by the Sab- bath-bell to the solemn assembly. It is a perfect libel on religion, to represent the honest trades of mankind as aught else but the various methods in which God may be honored and obeyed. We do not merely mean that worldly occu- pations may be followed without harm done to the soul. This would be no vindication of God's ordinance of la- bor. We mean that they may be fol- lowed with benefit to the soul. When God led the eastern magi to Christ, he led them by a star. He attacked them, so to speak, through the avenue of their profession. Their great employ- ment was that of observing the heaven- ly bodies. And God sanctified their astronomy. He might have taught them 13 9S ST. PAUL A TENT-MAKER. by other methods which seem to us more direct. But it pleased Him to put honor on their occupation, and to write his lessons in that glittering al- phabet with which their studies had made them especially conversant. We believe, in like manner, that if men went to their daily employments with something of the temper which they bring to the ordinances of grace, ex- pecting to receive messages from God through trade, and through labor, as well as through preaching and a com- munion, there would be a vast advanc- ing towards spiritual excellence; and men's experience would be, that the Almighty can bring them into acquaint-, ance with himself, by the ploughshare, and the balances, and the cargo, no less than by the homily, and the closet exercises, and the public devotions. There would be an anticipation of the glorious season, sketched out by pro- phecy, when " there shall be upon the bells of the horses, holiness unto the Lord, and the pots in the Lord's house shall be like the bowls before the al- tar." Zechariah, U : 20. We give this as our belief; and we advance as our reason, the fact that la- bor is the ordinance of God. We will not have industry set against piety ; as though the little time which men can snatch from secular engagements were the only time which thej'^ can give to their Maker. They may give all to God, and, nevertheless, be compelled to rise early, and late take rest, in or- der to earn a scanty subsistence. And we think, that, in placing an apostle under the necessity of laboring for bread, God assigned precisely that cha- racter to industry for which we con- tend. We learn, from the exhibition of our text, that there is no inconsis- tency between the being a devoted ser- vant of Christ, and the following assi- duously a toilsome occupation. Nay, we learn that it may be, literally, as the servant of Christ that man follows the occupation ; for it was, as we have shown you, with decided reference to the interests of religion, that St. Paul joined Aquila and Priscilla in tent-mak- ing. At the least, there is a registered demonstration in the case of this apos- tle, that unv/eared industry — for he elsewhere declares that he labored day and night — may consist with pre-emi- nent piety ; and that, so far from the pressure of secular employment being a valid excuse for slow progress in godliness, a man may have to struggle against absolute pauperism, and yet grow, every moment, a more admir- able christian^ Oh, there is something in this representation of the honor put by God upon industry, which should tell powerfully on the feelings of those to whom life is one long striving for the means of subsistence. It were as nothing to tell men, you may be good christians in spite of your engrossing employments. The noble truth is, that these employments may be so many helpers on of religion ; and that, in place of serving as leaden weights, which retard a disciple in his celestial career, they may be as the well-plumed wings, accelerating gloriously the on- ward progress. In laboring to support himself, St. Paul labored to advance Christ's cause. And though there be not always the same well defined con- nection between our toils for a liveli- hood and the interests of religion, yet, let a connection be practically sought after, and it will always be practically found. The case exists not in which, after making it obligatory on a man that he work for his bread, God has not arranged, that, in thus working, he may work also for the well-being of his soul. If ever, therefore, we met with an individual Vv^iio pleaded that there were already so many calls upon his time that he could not find leisure to give heed to religion, we should not immediately bear down upon him with the charge — though it might be a just one — of an undue pursuit of the things of this earth. We should only require of him to show that his employments were scripturally lawful, both in nature and intenseness. We should then meet him, at once, on the ground of this law- fulness. We should tell him that em- ployments were designed to partake of the nature of sacraments; that, in place of their being excuses for his not serv- ing God, they were appointed as instru- ments by which he might serve Him; and that, consequently, it was only be- cause he had practically dissolved apart- nership which the Almighty had formed, the partnership between industry and piety, that he was driving on, with a reckless speed, to a disastrous and des- ST. PAUL A TENT-MAKEK. 99 perate bankruptcy. And if he pretended to doubt that piety and industry have thus been associated by God, we would take him with us into the work-cham- ber of St. Paul; and there showing him the apostle toiling against want, and yet, in toiling, serving Christ Jesus — subsisting by his artisanship, and yet feeding the zeal of his soul by and through his labors for the support of his body — we would tell the questioner, that God thus caused a mighty speci- men to be given of an instituted con- nection between secular employment and spiritual improvement; and whilst we send him to the writings of St. Paul that he may learn what it is to be in- dustriously religious, we send him to the tent-making of St. Paul that he may learn what it is to be religiously indus- trious. Now we might insist at greater length, if not pressed by the remainder of our subject, on the honor which God put upon industry when he left St. Paul to toil for a maintenance. But we leave this point to be further pondered in your private meditations. We go on, according to the arrangements of our discourse, to open up the second rea- son which we ventured to assign for this allowed dependence of an apostle upon labor for subsistence. We stated as our second reason, that God designed hereby to inform us, that where he has appointed means he will not work by miracles. We observe that unto St. Paul had been given a super- human energy, so that, Avhen it was re- quired as a witness to his doctrine, he could remove diseases by a word or a touch, and even restore life to the dead. We have no distinct information whe- ther men, thus supernaturally equipped, could employ the power at every time, and for every purpose. But it seems most consistent with Scripture and rea- son to suppose, that, when specially moved by God, they could always work miracles ; but that, unless thus moved, their strength went from them, and they remained no mightier than their fellows. It does not appear that apos- tles could have recourse to wonder- workings in every exigence which min^ht arise. At least, it is certain that apostolical men, such as Epaphroditus and Timothy, went through sicknesses, and suffered from weaknesses, without being cured by miracle, and without, as it would seem, being taxed with de- ficiency of faith, because they shook not ofTthe malady, or resisted not its approaches. When St. Paul writes to Timothy in regard to his infirmities, he bids him use wine as a medicine ; he does not tell him to seek faith to work a miracle. Yet, beyond all doubt, Ti- mothy had received the gifts of the Spirit, And from this, and other in- stances, we infer that then only could miracles be wrought, when, by a dis- tinct motion of the Holy Ghost, faith was directed to some particular achieve- ment. It did not follow that because St. Peter, by a word, had struck down Ananias, he might, by a word, have im- mediately afterwards raised him up. It was not at his option what direction the miracle-working faith should take. Whensoever a miracle was wrought, it was wrought, unquestionably, by faith. But the faith, first given by God, re- quired ever after to be stirred into ex- ercise by God ; so that no conclusion could be more erroneous, than that faith must have been defective, where miracle was not wrought. Now we advance these remarks, in order to justify our not claiming for St. Paul, what, at first sight, we are disposed to claim, the praise of extraordinary self-denial in gaining his bread by labor, when he might have gained it by mira- cle. We may not suppose, that, be- cause he displayed oftentimes a super- human power, he could necessarily, had he wished it, have used that power in supplying his bodily wants. It may seem to us no greater eflx)rt, to multi- ply, as Christ did, a loaf into hundreds, than to command, as St. Paul did, the impotent man at Lystra to stand up- right on his feet. Yet it were a false conclusion that the apostle might have done the one as well as the other. The working of miracles presuppos- ed, as Ave have shown you, not only God's giving the faith, but also God's permitting, or rather God's directing, its exercise. We build, therefore, no statements on the supposition that St. Paul had the power, but used it not, of procuring food by miracle. We rather conclude that he had no alternative whatever ; so that, had he not labored at tent-making, he must have been absolutely destitute. It was not in- 100 ST. PAUL A TENT-MAKER. deed because deficient in faith that he wrought not a miracle. He had the faith by which lofty hills might be stir- red, provided only — and it is this pro- viso which men strangely overlook — that he, who had given him the faith, directed him to employ it on up-heav- ing the earth's mountains. But we are thus brought down to the question, why was St. Paul not per- mitted, or not directed, to use the won- der-working energy, in place of being necessitated to apply himself to ma- nual occupation 1 We give as our reply, that God might hereby have designed to communicate the important truth, that, where he has appointed means, we are not to look for miracles. Labor was his own ordinance. So long, there- fore, as labor could be available to the procuring subsistence, he would not supersede this ordinance by miraculous interference. There is, perhaps, no fea- ture more strongly charactered on God's dealings, whether in natural things or in spiritual, than that it is in the use of means, and in this alone, that blessings may be expected. We see clearly that this is God's procedure in reference to the affairs of our pre- sent state of being. If the husbandman neglect the processes of agriculture, there comes no miracle to make up this omission of means; but harvest- time finds barrenness reigning over the estate. If the merchantman sit with his liands folded, when he ought to be bu- sied with shipping his merchandise, there is nothing to be expected but that beggary will ensue upon idleness. And we hold that instances such as these, so familiar that they are often overlooked, must be taken as illustra- tions of a great principle whose work- ings permeate all God's dispensations. We would contend that there is to be traced in our spiritual affairs that very honoring of means which is thus ob- servable in our temporal. We know nothing of the fitness, which some men are disposed to uphold, of Avaiting the effectual calling of the Holy Ghost, and so of making no effort, till irresistibly moved, to escape from the bondage of corruption. We know of no scriptural method of addressing transgressors but as free agents; and we abjure, as un- sanctioned by the Bible, every scheme of theology which would make men nothing more than machines. It must lie at the foundation of all religion, whether natural or revealed, that men are responsible beings ; and responsible they cannot be, if placed under an in- vincible moral constraint, which allows no freedom whatsoever of choice. And we think it a thing to be sorely lament- ed, that there goes on a battling about election and non-election ; the combat- ants on each side failing to perceive, that they fight for the profile, and not the full face of truth. It seems to us as plain from the Bible as language can make it, that God hath elected a rem- nant to life. It is just as plain, that all men are addressed as capable of repent- ing, and at liberty to choose for them- selves between life and death. Thus we have scriptural warranty of God's election ; and we have also scriptural warranty of man's free agency. But how can these apparently opposite statements be reconciled'? I know not. The Bible tells me not. But because I cannot be wise beyond what is written, God forbid that I should refuse to be wise up to what is written. Scripture reveals, but it does not reconcile, the two. What then '? I receive both, and I preach both ; God's election and man's free agency. But I should esteem it of all presumptions the boldest to attempt explanation of the co-existence. In like manner, the Bible tells me explicitly that Christ was God ; and it tells me, as explicitly, that Christ was man. It does not go on to state the modus or manner of the union. I stop, therefore, where the Bible stops. I bow before a God-man as my Media- tor, but I own as inscrutable the mys- teries of his person. It is thus also with the doctrine of the Trinity. Three persons are set be- fore me as equally divine. At the same time, I am taught that there is only one God. How can the three be one, and the one be three 1 Silent as the grave is the Bible on this wonder. But I do not reject its speech because of its silence. I believe in three divine per- sons, because told of a Trinity; I be- lieve in one only God, because told of an Unity : but I leave to the deve- lopments of a noble sphere of exis- tence the clearing up the marvel of a Trinity in Unity. The admission, then, of the co-ex- ST. PAUL A TENT-MAKEE. 101 istence of election and free-agency is | racles will be wrought, we open before him the scenery of our text, and bid him behold the artificers at their labor. We tell him, that around one of these workmen the priests of Jupiter had thronged, bearing garlands, and bring- ing sacrifices, because of a displayed mastery over inveterate disease. We tell him, that, if there arose an occasion demanding the exhibition of prodigy in support of Christ's Gospel, this toiling artisan could throw aside the imple- ments of trade, and, rushing into the crowded arena, confound an army of opponents by suspending the known laws of nature. And, nevertheless, this mightily-gifted individual must literal- ly starve, or drudge for a meal like the meanest mechanic. And why so 1 why, but because it is a standing appoint- ment of God, that miracles shall not supercede means'? If there were no means, Paul should have his bread by miracle. But whilst there is the can- vass, and the cord, and the sight in the eye, and the strength in the limb, he may carry on the trade of a tent-maker. He has the tools of his craft : let him use them industriously, and not sit in- active, hoping to be supported miracu- lously. And, arguing from this as a thorough specimen of God's ordinary dealings, we tell the expectant of an effectual call, that he waits as an idler whilst God requires him to work as a laborer. Where are the tools'? Why left on the ground, when they should be in the hand '? Where are the means '? Why passed over, when they ought to be employed ■? Why neglected, when they should be honored'? Why treated as worthless, when God declares them efficacious'? It is true that conversion is a miracle. But God's common me- thod of working this miracle is through the machinery of means. It is true that none but the elect can be saved. But the only way to ascertain election is to be laborious in striving. I read St. Paul's Epistle to the Eomans ; and I find the apostle saying, "so then it is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of God that showeth mer- cy." Rom. 9 : 16. What then'? Must I, on this account, run not, but sit still, expecting the approaches of mercy'? Away with the thought. Means are God's high road to miracles. I turn from the apostle writing to the Ko- but the counterpart of many other ad- missions which are made, on all hands, by the believers in revelation. And having assured ourselves of this joint existence, we see at once that man's business is to set about the work of his salvation, with all the ardor, and all the pains taking, of one convinced that he cannot perish, except through his own fault. We address him as an immortal creature whose destinies are in his own keeping. We will hear nothing of a secret decree of God, in- suring him a safe passage to a haven of rest, or leaving him to go down a wreck in the whirlpool. But we tell him of a command of God, summon- ing him to put forth all his strength, and all his seamanship, ere the break- ers dash against him, and the rocks rise around him. We thus deal with man as a responsible being. You are waiting for a miracle ; have you tried the means'? You are trusting to a hidden purpose ; have you submitted yourselves to a revealed command "? Sitting still is no proof of election. Grappling with evil is a proof ; and wrenching one's-self from hurtful as- sociations is a proof; and studying God's word is a proof; and praying for assistance is a proof. He who re- solves to do nothing until he is called — oh, the likelihood is beyond calcula- tion, that he will have no call, till the sheeted dead are starting at the trum- pet-call. And the vessel — freighted as she was with noble capacities, with in- telligence, and reason, and forethought, and the deep throbbings of immortali- ty — what account shall be given of her making no way towards the shores of the saint's home, but remaining to be broken up piecemeal by the sweepings of the judgment"? Simply, that God told man of a compass, and of a chart, and of a wind and a pilot. But man determined to remain anchored, until God should come and tear the ship from her moorings. God has appoint- ed means. If we will use them dili- gently, and prayerfully, we may look for a blessing. But if we despise and neglect them, we must not look for a miracle. And if a man be resolved to give harborage to the idea that means may be dispensed with, and that then mi- 102 ST. PAUL A TENT-MAKER. mans to the apostle toiling at Corinth. And when I look on the labors of the tent-maker, and infer from them that miracles must not be expected where means have been instituted, and that, consequently, whensoever God has ap- pointed means, miracle is to be looked for only in their use 5 oh, in place of loitering because I have read of elec- tion, I would gird up the loins as hav- ing gazed on the tent-making; and in place of running not, because it is " of God that showeth mercy," run might and main, because it is to those who are running that he shows it. When God decrees an end, he de- crees also the means. If then he have elected me to obtain salvation in the next life, he has elected me to the prac- tice of holiness in this life. Would I ascertain my election to the blessed- ness of eternity 1 it must be by prac- tically demonstrating my election to newness of life. It is not by the rap- ture of feeling, and by the luxuriance of thought, and by the warmth of those desires which descriptions of heaven may stir up within me, that I can prove myself predestined to a glorious in- heritance. If I would find out what is hidden, I must follow what is revealed. The way to heaven is disclosed ; am I walking in that way 1 It would be poor proof that I were on my voyage to In- dia, that, with glowing eloquence and thrilling poetry, I could discourse on the palm-groves and the spice-isles of the East. Am I on the waters'? Is the sail hoisted to the wind ; and does the land of my birth look blue and faint in the distance 1 The doctrine of election may have done harm to many — but only because they have fancied them- selves elected to the end, and have for- gotten that those whom Scripture calls elected are elected to the means. The Bible never speaks of men as elected to be saved from the shipwreck ; but only as elected to tighten the ropes, and hoist the sails, and stand to the rudder. Let a man search faithfully ; let him see that when Scripture de- scribes christians as elected, it is, as elected to faith, as elected to sanctifi- cation, as elected to obedience ; and the doctrine of election will be nothing but a stimulus to effort. It cannot act as a soporific. It cannot lull me into security. It cannot engender licentious- ness. It will throw ardor into the spir- it, and fire into the eye, and vigor into the limb. I shall cut away the boat, and let drive all human devices, and gird myself, amid the fierceness of the tem- pest, to steer the shattered vessel into port. Now having thus examined the rea- sons why St. Paul was left dependent upon labor for subsistence, we hasten at once to wind up our subject. We have had under review two great and interesting truths. We have seen that labor is God's ordinance. Be it yours, therefore, to strive earnestly that your worldly callings may be sanctified, so that trade may be the helpmate of reli- gion, instead of its foe and assassin. We have seen, also, that, when God has instituted means, we can have no right to be looking for miracles. Will ye then sit still, expecting God to compel you to move 1 Will ye expose your- selves wantonly to temptation, expect- ing God to make you impregnable'? Will ye take the viper to your bo- soms, expecting God to charm away the sting'? Will ye tamper with the poison cup, expecting God to neutral- ize the hemlock 1 Then why did not St. Paul, in place of working the can- vass into a tent, expect God to convert it into food '? We do not idolize means. We do not substitute the means of grace for grace itself. But this we say — and we beseech you to carry with you the truth to your homes — when God has made a channel, he may be expected to send through that channel the flowings of his mercy. Oh ! that ye were anxious ; that ye would take your right place in creation, and feel yourselves immortal! Be men, and ye make a vast advance towards being Christians. Many of you have long re- fused to labor to be saved. The imple- ments are in j^our hands, but you will not work at the tent-making. Ye will not pray ; ye will not shun temptation ; ye will not renounce known sin ; ye will not fight against evil habits. Are ye stronger than God '? Can ye con- tend with the Eternal One 1 Have ye the nerve which shall not tremble, and the flesh which shall not quiver, and the soul which shall not quail, when the sheet of fire is round the globe, and thousand times ten thousand an- gels line the sky, and call to judgment "? THE ADVANTAGES OF A STATE OF EXPECTATION. 103 If we had a spell by which to bind the ministers of vengeance, we might go on in idleness. If we had a charm by which to take what is scorching from the flame, and what is gnawing from the worm, we might continue the care- less. But if we can feel ; if we are not pain-proof; if we are not wrath-proof; let us arise, and be doing, and, with fear and trembling, work out salvation. There shall yet burst on this creation a day of fire and of storm, and of blood — oh! conform yourselves to the sim- ple prescriptions of the Bible ; seek the aids of God's Spirit by prayer, and ye shall be led to lay hold on Christ Jesus by faith. SERMON X. THE ADVANTAGES OF A STATE OF EXPECTATION. _*' It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord. Lamentations, 3 : 26. You will find it said in the Book of Ecclesiastes, ''Because to every pur- pose there is time and judgment, there- fore the misery of man is great upon him." Eccl. 8:6. It seems to us im- plied in these words, that our incapa- city of looking into the future has much to do with the production of disquie- tude and unhappiness. And there is no question, that the darkness in which we are compelled to proceed, and the imcertainty which hangs round the is- sues of our best-arranged schemes, con- tribute much to the troubles and per- plexities of life. Under the present dis- pensation we must calculate on proba- bilities ; and our calculations, when made with the best care and fore- thought, are often proved faulty by the result. And if we could substitute cer- tainty for probability, and thus define, with a thorough accuracy, the work- ings of any proposed plan, it is evident that we might be saved a vast amount both of anxiety and of disappointment. Much of our anxiety is now derived from the doubtfulness of the success of schemes, and from the likelihood of ob- struction and mischance : much of our disappointment from the overthrow and failure of long-cherished purposes. And, of course, if we possessed the same mastery of the future as of the past, we should enter upon nothing which was sure to turn out ill ; but, regulating ourselves in every undertak- ing by fore-known results, avoid much of previous debate and of after regret. Yet when we have admitted, that want of acquaintance with the future gives rise to much both of anxiety and of dis- appointment, we are prepared to argue, that the possession of this acquaint- ance would be incalculably more detri- mental. It is quite true that there are forms and portions of trouble which might be warded off or escaped, if Ave could behold what is coming, and take measures accordingly. But it is to the full as true, that the main of what shall befall us is matter of irrevocable ap- pointment, to be averted by no pru- dence, and dispersed by no bravery. And if we could know beforehand whatever is to happen, we should, in all probability, be unmanned nnd enervat- ed ; so that an arrest would be put on the businesses of life by previous ac- 10-i THE ADVANTAGES OF A STATE OF EXPECTATIOIS'. quaintance with their several successes. The parent, who is pouring his at- tention on the education of a child, or laboring to procure for him advance- ment and independence, would be \\n- able to go forward with his efforts, if certified that he must follow that child to the grave so soon as he had fitted him for society and occupation. And even if the map Avere a bright one, so that we looked on sunny things as fix- ed for our portion, familiarity with the prospect would deteriorate it to our imagination ; and blessings would seem to us of less and less worth, as they came on us more and more as matters of course. In real truth, it is our igno- rance of what shall happen which stimu- lates exertion : we are so constituted that to deprive us of hope would be to make us inactive and wretched. And, th^-refore, do we hold that one great proof of God's loving-kindness towards us, may be fetched from that impene- trable concealment in which he wraps up to-morrow. We long indeed to bring to-morrow into to-day, and strain the eye in the fruitless endeavor to scan its occurrences. But it is, in a great degree, my ignorance of to-morrow which makes me vigilant, and energet- ic, and pains-taking, to-day. And if I could see to-day that a great calamity or a great success would undoubtedly befall me to-morrow, the likelihood is that I should be so overcome, either by sorrow or by delight, as to be unfit- ted for those duties with which the present hour is charged. Now it were easy to employ our- selves in examining, more in detail, the bearings on our temporal well-being of that hiding of the future to wdiich we have adverted. Neither would such examination be out of place in a dis- course on the words of our text. The prophet refers chiefly to temporal de- liverance, when mentioning ''the sal- vation of the Lord." Judah had gone into captivity : and Jerusalem, hereto- fore a queen amongst the cities, sat widowed and desolate. Yet Jeremiah was persuaded that the Lord would " not cast off for ever ;" Lam. 3:31; and he, therefore, encouraged the rem- nant of his countrymen to expect abet- ter and brighter season. He does not, indeed, predict immediate restoration. But then he asserts that delayed mer- cy would be more advantageous than instant, and that profit might be deri- ved from expectation as well as from possession. If we paraphrase his words, we may consider him saying to the stricken and disconsolate Jews, you wish an immediate interference of God on behalf of your city and nation. You desire, that, witiiout a moment's delay, the captive tribes should march back from Babylon, and Jerusalem rise again in her beauty and her strength. But if this wish were complied with, it would be at the expense of much of the bene- fit derivable from affliction : for " it is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord." Thus the original design of the passage would warrant our taking a large sweep in its explanation, and leading you over that range of inquiry which is opened by our introductory remarks. We might dilate on the ad- vantageousness of the existing arrange- ment, and its wondrous adaptation to our moral constitution. We might show you, by references to the en- gagements and intercourses of life, that it is for our profit that we be un- certain as to issues, and, therefore, re- quired both to hope and to wait. We doubt whether you could imagine a finer discipline for the, human mind, than results from the fixed impossibili- ty of our grasping two moments at once. The chief opponent to that feel- ing of independence Avhich man natu- rally cherishes, but always to his own hurt, is his utter ignorance of the events of the next minute. For who can boast, or who can feel himself, in- dependent, whilst unable to insure an- other beat of the pulse, or to decide whether, before he can count two, he shall be spoiled of life or reduced to beggary 1 It is only in proportion as men close their eyes to their absolute want of mastership over the future, that they encourage themselves in the de- lusion of independence. If they owned, and felt themselves, the possessors of a single moment, with no more power to secure the following than if the pro- posed period were a thousand centu- ries, we might set it down as an un- avoidable consequence, that they would shun the presumption of so acting for themselves as though God were exclu- THE ADVANTAGES OF A STATE OF EXPECTATION. 105 ded from superintending their affairs. And if there were introduced an op- posite arrangement 5 if men were no longer placed under a system compel- ling them to hope and to wait; you may all see that the acquired power over the future would produce, in ma- ny quarters, an infidel contempt, or de- nial, of Providence : so that, by admit- ting men to a closer inspection of his workings, God would throw them fur- ther off from acquaintance v/ith him- self and reverence of his majesties. Thus the goodness of fhe existing ar- rangement is matter of easy demonstra- tion, when that arrangement is consi- dered as including the affairs of everj^- day life. If you look at the consum- mation as ordinarily far removed from the formation of a purpose, there is, we again say, a fine moral discipline in the intervening suspense. That men may withstand, or overlook, the disci- pline, and so miss its advantages, tells nothing against either its existence, or its excellence. And the necessity which is laid on the husbandman, that, after sowing the seed, he wait long for the harvest-time, in hope, but not cer- tainty ; and upon the merchantman, that, after dispatching his ships, he wait long for the products of com- merce, hoping, but far enough from sure, that the voyage and the traffic will be prosperous ; this necessity, we say, for hoping and waiting reads the best of all lessons as to actual depend- ence on an invisible being; and thus verifies our position, that, whatever the desired advantage, " it is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for" its possession. Ay, and we are well convinced that there cannot be found a nobler argument for the existence of a stanch moral government over the creatures of our race, than results from this imposed necessity that there elapse a period, and that too a period full of uncertainties, between the forming and completing a design. Amid all the mu- tiny and uproar of our present torn and disorganized condition, there is a voice, in our utter powerlessness to i make sure of the future, which conti- i nually recalls man from his rebellion { and scepticism; and which, proclaim- 1 ing, in accents not to be overborne by I the fiercest tempest of passion, that he holds every thing at the will of another, shall demand irresistibly his condem- nation at any oncoming trial, if he car- ry it with a high and independent hand against the being thus proved the un- controlled lord of his destinies. But we feel it necessary to bring our inquiry within narrower limits, and to take the expression, " the salvation of the Lord," in that more restrained sense which it bears ordinarily in Scrip- ture. We shall employ, therefore, the remainder of our time in endeavoring to prove to you, by the simplest rea- soning, that it is for our advantage as christians that salvation, in place of being a thing of certainty and present possession, must be hoped and quietly waited for by believers. Now whilst it is the business of a christian minister to guard you against presumption, and an uncalculating con- fidence that you are safe for eternity, it is also his duty to rouse you to a sense of your privileges, and to press on you the importance of ascertaining your title to immortality. "We think it not necessarily a proof of christian hu- mility, that you should be always in doubt of your spiritual state, and so live uncertain whether, in the event of death, you would pass into glory. We are bound to declare that Scripture makes the marks of true religion clear and decisive ; and that, if we will but apply, faithfully and fearlessly, the se- veral criteria furnished by its state- ments, it cannot remain a problem, which the last judgment only can solve, whether it be the broad way, or the narrow, in which we now walk. But, nevertheless, the best assurance to which a christian can attain must leave salvation a thing chiefly of hope. We find it expressly declared by St. Paul to the Romans, " we are saved by hope." Eom. 8 : 24. And they who are most persuaded, and that too by scrip- tural warrant, that they are in a state of salvation, can never declare them- selves, except in the most limited sense, in its fruition or enjoyment; but must always live mainly upon hope, though with occasional foretastes of coming delights. They can reach the conchi sion — and a comforting and noble con elusion it is — that they are justified ; beings, as having been enabled to act I faith on a Mediator. But whilst justifi- i cation insures them salvation, it puts 14* 306 THE ADVANTAGES OF A STATE OF EXPECTATION. them not into its present possession. It is thus again that St. Paul distin- guishes between justification and sal- vation, saying of Christ, " being now justified by his blood, we shall be saved from wrath through him." Rom. 5 : 9. So that the knov^ing ourselves justified is the highest thing attainable on earth ; salvation itself, though certain to be reached, remaining an object for which we must hope, and for which we must ■wait. Now it is the goodness of this ar- rangement which is asserted in our text. We can readilj'^ suppose an op- posite arrangement. Wc can imagine that, as soon as a man were justified, he might be translated to blessedness, and that thus the gaining the title, and the entering on possession, might be always contemporary. Since the being justified is the being accepted in God's sight, and counted perfectly righteous, there would seem no insurmountable reason why the justified man should be left, a single moment, a wanderer in the desert ; or why the instant of the exertion of saving faith, inasmuch as that exertion makes sure the salvation, should not also be the instant of en- trance into glory. To question the pos- sibility of such an arrangement, would be to question the possibility of an out- putting of faith at the last moment of life; for, unless what is called death- bed repentance be distinctly an impos- sible thing, the case is clearly sup- posable of the justifying act being im- mediately followed by admission into heaven. But the possibility of the arrange- ment, and its goodness, are quite dif- ferent questions ; and whilst we see that it might have been ordered, that the justified man should at once be translated, Ave can still believe it good that he '* both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord." Our text speaks chiefly of the goodness to the individual himself; but it will be lawful first to consider the arrangement as fraught with advantage to human society. We must all perceive, that, if true believers Avere withdrawn from earth at the instant of their becoming such, the influences of piety, which now make themselves felt through the mass of a population, would be altogether destroyed, and the world be deprived of that salt which alone preserves it from total decomposition. We believe that when Christ declared of his fol- lowers, " ye are the salt of the earth," Matthew, 5 : 13, he delivered a saying which described, with singular fidelity, the power of righteousness to stay and correct the disorganizations of man- kind. As applied to the apostles the definition Avas especially accurate. There lay before them a Avorld distin- guished by nothing so much as by corruption of doctrine and manners. Though philosophy was at its height ; though reason had achieved her proud- est triumphs ; though arts Avere in their maturity ; though eloquence Avas then most finished, and poetry most harmo- nious ; there reigned over the Avhole face of the globe a tremendous igno- rance of God : and if humanity were not actually an unsound and putrid mass, it had in it every element of de- cay, so that, if longer abandoned to itself, it must have fallen into incurable disease, and become covered Avith the livid spots of total dissolution. And Avhen, by divine commission, the dis- ciples penetrated the recesses of this mass, carrying with them principles, and truths, exactly calculated to stay the moral ruin Avhich Avas spreading Avith fearful rapidity — AA'hen they Avent forth, the bearers of celestial commu- nications Avhich taught the soul to feel herself immortal, and, therefore, inde- structible ; which lifted even the body out of the grasp of decay, teaching that bone, and sinew, and flesh should be made at last gloriously incorruptible — Avhen, Ave say, the disciples thus ap- plied to the Avorld a remedy, perfect in every respect, against those tendencies to corruption Avhich threatened to turn our globe into the lazar-house of crea- tion ; Avere they not to be regarded as the purifiers and preservers of men, and could any title be more just than one Avhich defined them, in their striv- ings to overspread a diseased Avorld Avith healthfulness, as literally " the salt of the earth V But it holds good in every age that true believers are " the salt of the earth." Whilst the contempt and ha- tred of the wicked follow incessantly the professors of godliness, and the enemies of Christ, if ability Avere com- THE ADVANTAGES OF A STATE OF EXPECTATION. 107 niensurate with malice, would sweep from the globe all knowledge of the Gospel, we can venture to assert that the unrighteous owe the righteous a debt of obligation not to be reckoned up ; and that it is mainly because the required ten are still found in the cities of the plain that the fire-showers are suspended, and time given for the warding off by repentance the doom. And over and above this conservative virtue of godliness, it is \mdeniable that the presence of a pious man in a neighborhood will tell greatly on its character ; and that, in variety of in- stances, his withdrawment would be followed by wilder outbreakings of pro- fligacy. It must have fallen, we think, within the power of many of you to observe, how a dissolute parish has undergone a species of moral renova- tion, through the introduction within its circles of a God-fearing individual. He may be despised ; he maybe scorn- ed ; he may be railed at. The old may call him methodist, and the young make him their laughing-stock. But, nevertheless, if he live consistently, if he give the adversary no occasion to blaspheme, he will often, by his very example, go a long way towards stop- ping tlie contagion of vice : he will act, that is, as the salt : and if he succeed not — for this is beyond the power of the salt — in restoring to a wholesome texture what is fatally tainted, he Avill be instrumental to the preserving much which would otherwise have soon yielded to the destructive malaria. It is not merely that his temporal circum- stances may have given him ascend- ancy over his fellows. There is in the human mind — we dare not say, a bias towards virtue, but — an abiding, and scarcely to be overborne conscious- ness, that such ought to be the bias, and that, whensoever the practical lean- ing is to vice, there is irresistible evi- dence of moral derangement. What- ever the extent of human degeneracy, you will not find that right and wrong have so changed places, that, in being the slaves of vice, men reckon them- selves the subjects of virtue. There is a gnawing restlessness in those who have most abandoned themselves to the power of evil ; and much of the fierce- ness of their profligacy is ascribable to a felt necessity of keeping down, and stifling, reproachful convictions. And hence it comes to pass that vice will ordinarily feel rebuked and over- aw^ed by virtue, and that the men, whom you would think dead to all noble prin- ciple, '_will be disturbed by the presence of an upright and God-fearing charac- ter. The voice of righteousness will find something of an echo amid the disorder and confusion of the worst moral chaos ; and the strings of con- science are scarcely ever so dislocated and torn as not to yield even a whis- per, when swept by the hand of ahlgh- virtued monitor. So that the godly in a neighborhood wield an influence which is purely that of godliness; and when denied opportunities of direct interference, check by example, and reprove by conduct. You could not then measure to us the consequences of the Avithdrawment of the salt from the mass of a population; nor calcu- late the rapidity with which, on the complete removal of God-fearing men, an overwhelming corruption would pervade all society. But this is exactly what must occur, if a system, opposite to the present, were introduced, so that salvation were not a thing to be hoped and waited for. If as soon as a man were justified, through being enabled to act faith upon Christ, he were trans- lated to the repose and blessedness of heaven, he could exert nothing of that influence, and work nothing of that benefit, which we have now traced and exhibited. And, therefore, in propor- tion as the influence is important and the jbenefit considerable, we must be warranted in maintaining it " good, that a man should both hope and qui- etly wait for the salvation of the Lord." It is, however, the goodness of the arrangement to the individual himself which seems chiefly contemplated by the prophet, and upon this, therefore, we shall employ the remainder of our discourse. Now, under this point of view, our text is simpler at first sight than when rigidly examined. We can see, at once, that there is a spiritual discipline in the hoping and waiting, which can scarcely fail to improve greatly the character of the christian. But, nevertheless, would it not, on the whole, be vastly for his personal ad- vantage that he should leave speedily this theatre of conflict and trouble, and 108 THE ADVANTAGES OF A STATE OF EXPECTATION. be admitted, without a wearisome de- lay, into the mansion which Christ has prepared for his residence % We have already shown you that there can exist no actual necessity, that he who is jus- tified should not be immediately glo- rified. We are bound to believe that a justified man — and, beyond all question, a man is justified in tliis life — is con- signed to blessedness by an irreversible appointment, and that, consequently, whensoever he dies, it is certain that he enters into heaven. The moment he is justified, heaven becomes un- doubtedly his portion ; and if, therefore, he die at the instant of justification, he Avill as surely obtain immortality, as if many years elapse between the out- putting of faitli and the departure from life. And how then can it be good for him, certified as he thus is of hea- ven, to continue the war with sin and corruption, and to cut painfully his way through hosts of opponents, in place of passing instantaneously into the joy of his Lord 1 If you could prove it in every case indispensable that a justified man should undergo discipline in order to his acquiring meetness for heaven, there would be no room for debate as to the goodness asserted in our text. But you cannot prove the discipline indispensable, because we know the p&ssibilitj* that a man may be justified at the last moment of life ; so that, no time having been allowed for preparation, he may spring from a death-bed to a throne. And thus the question comes back upon us in its un- broken force, wherein lies the good- ness of hoping and waiting for salva- tion 1 We take the case, for example, of a man who, at the age of thirty, is en- abled, through the operations of grace, to look in faith to the Mediator. By this looking in faith the man is justi- fied : a justified man cannot perish: and if, therefore, the individual died at thirty, he would " sleep in Jesus," But. after being justified, the man is left thirty years upon earth — years of care, and toil, and striving with sin — and du- ring these years he hopes and waits for salvation. At length he obtains salva- tion ; and thus, at the close of thirty years, takes possession of an inherit- ance to which his title was clear at the beginning. Now wherein can lie the advantageousness of this arrangement 1 Thirty years, which might have been spent in the enjoying, are spent in the hoping and waiting for salvation : and unless the reality shall fall short of the expectation, how can it be true that '* it is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the Lordl" We think that no fair explanation can be given of our text, unless you bring into the account the difference in the portions to be assigned hereafter to the righteous. If you supposed uniformity in the glory and happiness of the future, we should be at a loss to discover the goodness of the existing arrangement. If, after the thirty years of warfare and toil, the man receive precisely what he might have received at the outset of these years, is he benefited, nay, is he not injured by the delay 1 If the delay afford the means of increasing the bless- edness, there is a clear advantageous- ness in that delay. But if the blessed- ness be of a fixed quantity, so that at the instant of justification a man's por- tion is unalterably determined, to as- sert it good that he should hope and wait, is to assert that thirty years of expectation are more delightful than thirty years of possession. We bring before you, therefore, as a comment on our text, Avords such as these of the apostle, " our light afflic- tion, which is but for a moment, work- eth for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." 2 Cor. 4 : 17. We consider that when you set the passages in juxta-position, the work- ing-power, ascribed by one to affliction, gives satisfactory account of the good- ness attributed by the other to the hop- ing and waiting. It is unquestionably good that a man should hope and wait, provided the delay make it possible that he heighten the amount of finally- received blessedness. And if the afflic- tion, for example, which is undergone during the period of delay, work out '^a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory," it follows necessari- ly, that delay makes possible the height- ening future glory j and therefore it follows, just as necessarily, that it is " good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord." We consider it easy, by thus bring- THE ADVANTAGES OF A STATE OF EXPECTATION. 109 ing into the account an undoubted doc- trine of Scripture — the doctrine that the future allotments of the righteous shall be accurately proportioned to their present attainments — to explain the ffoodness of an arranoement which defers, through many years, full deliv- erance from trial. We are here, in j every sense, on a stage of probation ; , so that, having once been brought back ; from the alienations of nature, we are , candidates for a prize, and wrestlers [ for a diadem. It is not the mere en- ! trance into the kingdom for which we | contend : the first instant in which we [ act faith on Christ as our propitiation, ■ sees this entrance secured to us as jus- I tifiedbeings. But, when justified, there ! is opened before us the widest field for a righteous ambition ; and portions deepening in majesty, and heightening in brilliancy, rise on our vision, and animate to unwearied endeavor. We count it one of the glorious things of Christianity, that, in place of repress- ing, it gives full scope to all the ardor of man's spirit. It is common to reck- on ambition amongst vices : and a vice it is, under its ordinary developments, Avith which Christianity wages intermi- nable warfare. But, nevertheless, it is a stanch, and an adventurous, and an eagle-eyed thing: and it is impossible to gaze on the man of ambition, daunt- ed not by disaster, wearied not by re- pulse, disheartened not by delay, hold- ing on in one unbroken career of effort to reach a coveted object, without feel- ing that he possesses the elements of a noble constitution ; and that, however to be wept over for the prostitution of his energies, for the pouring out this mightiness of soul on the corrupt and the perishable, he is equipped with an apparatus of powers which need no- thing but the being rightly directed, in order to the forming the very finest of characters. And we think it nothing better than a libel on Christianity, to declare of the ambitious man, that, if he become religious, he must, in every sense, cease to be ambitious. If it have been his ambition to rise high in the dignities of a state, to win to himself the plaudits of a multitude, to twine his forehead with the wreaths of popu- lar favor, to be foremost amongst the heroes of war or the professors of sci- ence — the introduced humility of a dis- ciple of Christ, bringing him down from all the heights of carnal ascendancy, will be quite incompatible with this his ambition, so that his discipleship may be tested by its suppression and de- struction. But all those elements of character which went to the making up this ambition — the irrepressible desire of some imagined good, the fixedness of purpose, the strenuousness of exer- tion — these remain, and are not to be annihilated ; requiring only the propo- sition of a holy object, and. they will instantly be concentrated into a holy ambition. And Christianity propounds this object. Christianity deals with am- bition as a passion to be abhorred and denounced, whilst urging the warrior to carve his way to a throne, or the courtier to press on in the path of pre- ferment. But it does not cast out the elements of the passion. Why should it l They are the noblest Avhich enter into the human composition, bearing most vividly the impress of man's ori- ginal formation. Christianity seizes on these elements. She tells her subjects that the rewards of eternity, though all purchased by Christ, and none merited by man, shall be rigidly proportioned to their works. She tells them that there are places of dignity, and sta- tions of eminence, and crowns with more jewelry, and sceptres with more sway, in that glorious empire which shall finally be set up by the Mediator. And she bids them strive for the loftier recompense. She would not have them contented with the lesser portion, though infinitely outdoing human ima- gination as well as human desert. And if ambition be the walking with the stanch step, and the single eye, and the untired zeal, and all in pursuit of some longed-for superiority, Christiani- ty saith not to the man of ambition, lay aside thine ambition: Christianity hath need of the stanch stop, and the single eye, and the untired zeal ; and she, therefore, sets before the man pyramid rising above pyramid in glory, throne above throne, palace above palace ; and she sends him forth into the moral arena to wrestle for the loftiest, though unworthy of the lowest. We shall not hesitate to argue that in this, as in other modes which might be indicated, Christianity provides an antagonist to that listlessness which a I 110 THE ADVANTAGES OF A STATE OF EXPECTATION. feeling of security might be supposed to engender. She does not allow the believer to imagine every thing done, when a title to the kingdom has been obtained. She still shows him that the trials of the last great assize shall pro- ceed most accurately on the evidence of works. There is no swerving in the Bible from this representation. And if one man becomes a ruler over ten ci- ties, and another over live, and another over two — each receiving in exact pro- portion to his improvement of talents — it is clear as demonstration can make it, that our strivings will have a vast influence on our recompense, and that, though no iota of blessedness shall be portioned out to the righteous which is not altogether an undeserved gift, the arrangements of the judgment will ba- lance most nicely v/hat is bestowed and what is performed. It shall not be said, that, because secure of admission into heaven, the justified man has nothing to excite him to toil. He is to wrestle for a place amongst spirits of chief re- nown : he is to propose to himself a station close to the throne : he is to fix his eye on a rev/ard sparkling above the rest with the splendors of eternity : and, whilst bowed to the dust under a sense of utter unworthiness to enter the lists in so noble a contest, he is to become competitor for the richest and most radiant of prizes. We tell him, then, that it is good that he hope and wait. It is telling him there is yet time, though rapidly diminishing, for securing high rank in the kingdom. It is telling the wrestler, the glass is run- ning out, and there is a garland not won. It is telling the warrior, the night shades are gathering, and the victory is not yet complete. It is telling the traveller, the sun is declining, and there are higher peaks to be scaled. Is it not good that 1 hope and wait, when each moment may add a jewel to the crown, a plume to the wing, a city to the scep- tre \ Is it not good, when each second of effort may lift me a step higher in the scale of triumph and majesty"? Oh, you look on an individual whose faith in Christ Jesus has been demonstrated by most scriptural evidence, but unto whom life is one long series of trials, and disasters, and pains; and you are disposed to ask, seeing there can rest no doubt on the man's title to salvation. whether it would not be good for him to be freed at once from the burden of the flesh, and thus spared, it may be, yet many years of anxiety and strug- gle. You think that he may well take as his own the words of the Psalmist : " Oh that I had wings like a dove, then vv'ould I flee away and be at rest." But we meet you with the assertion of an instituted connection between our two states of being. We tell you that the believer, as he breasts the storm, and plunges into the war, and grapples with affliction, is simply in the condition of one who contends for a prize ; ay, and that if he were taken off from the scene of combat, just at the instant of chal- lenging the adversary, and thus saved, on your short-sighted calculation, a superfluous outlay of toil and resist- ance, he would miss noble things, and things of loveliness, in his everlasting portion, and be brought down from some starry eminence in the sovereign- ties of eternity, which, had he fought through a long life-time ''the good fight of faith," 1 Tim. 6 : 12, might have been awarded him in the morning of the first resurrection. Now we may suppose that we carry with us your admission of the fairness of the reasoning, that, inasmuch as the continuance of the justified upon earth affords them opportunity of rising high- er in the scale of future blessedness, there is a goodness in the arrangement which is vastly more than a counter- poise to all the evils with which it seems charged. The justified man, translated at the instant of justification, could receive nothing, we may think, but the lower and less splendid por- tions. He would have had no time for glorifying God in the active duties of a christian profession; and it would seem impossible, therefore, that he should win any of those more magnificent al- lotments which shall be given to the foremost of Christ's followers. But the remaining in the flesh after justifica- tion, allows of that growth in grace, that progress in holiness, that adorn- ing in all things the doctrine of the Savior, to which shall be awarded, at the judgment, chief places in the king- dom of Messiah. And if, on the sup- position that no period intervene, there can be no augmentations of happiness, whereas, on that of hoping and wait- THE ADVANTAGES OF A STATE OF EXPECTATION. Ill ing, there may be daily advances in holiness, and therefore daily acces- sions to a never-ending bliss ; who will deny the accuracy of the inference, that " it is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord 1" There would seem nothing wanting to the completeness of this argument, unless it be proof of what has been all along assumed, namely, that the being compelled to hope and to wait is a good moral discipline ; so that the exercises prescribed are calculated to promote holiness, and, therefore, to insure hap- piness. We have perhaps only shown the advantageousness of delay ; Avhere- as the text asserts the advantageous- ness of certain acts of the soul. Yet this discrepancy between the thing proved, and the thing to be proved, is too slight to require a lengthened correction. It is the delay which makes salvation a thing of hope ; and that which I am obliged to hope for, I am, of course, obliged to wait for ; and thus, whatever of beneficial result can be ascribed to the delay may, with equal fitness, be ascribed to the hoping and waiting. Besides, hope and pa- tience — for it is not the mere Avaiting which is asserted to be good; it is the quietly waiting ; and this quiet waiting is but another term for patience — hope and patience arc two of the most ad- mirable of christian graces, and he who cultivates them assiduously cannot well be neglectful of the rest. So that, to say of a man that he is exercising hope and patience, is to say of him, that, through the assistance of God's Spirit, he is more and more overcoming the rug- gedness and oppositions of nature, and more and more improving the soil, that lovely things, and things of good report, may spring up and flourish. In the ma- terial world, there is a wonderful pro- vision against the destruction of the soil, which has often excited the ad- miration of philosophers. The coat of vegetable mould with which this globe is overspread, and the removal of which would be the covering of our fields with sterility, consists of loose materials, easily washed away by the rains, and continually carried down bjr the rivers to the sea. And, nevertheless, though there is this rapid and ongoing waste, a waste which seems sufficient, of it- self, to destroy in a few years the soil, there is no sensible diminution in the layers of mould ; but the soil remains the same, or nearly the same, in quan- tity ; and must have done so, ever since this earth became the home of animal or vegetable life. And we know, there- fore, that there must be causes at work which continually furnish a supply just equal to the v/aste of the soil. We know that God, wonderful in his fore- thought and contrivance, must have ar- ranged a system of mechanical and che- mical agencies, through whose opera- tions the ravages of the flood and storm should be carefully repaired: and we find accordingly, that, Avhilst the soil is swept away, there goes on continually, through the action of the elements, a breaking up and pounding even of the hardest rocks, and that thus there is strewed upon the earth's surface by the winds, or brought down in the se- diments of mountain torrents, a fresh deposit in the room of the displaced and far-scattered covering. Now it is only necessary to allude to such an arrangement in the material world, and you summon forth the ad- miration and applause of contemplative minds. It is a thing so surprising, that the waste and loss, which the most careless must observe, should be con- tinually and exactly repaired, though by agencies whose workings we can scarcely detect, that the bare mention of the fact elicits, on all sides, a con- fession, that creative wisdom and might distance immeasurably the stanchest of our searchings. But we think that, in the spiritual economy, u'e have some- thing, analogous indeed, but still more beautiful as an arrangement. The winds of passion, and the floods of tempta- tion, pass fiercely over the soil of the heart, displacing often and scattering that mould which has been broken up by the ploughshare of the Gospel. But God's promise is, that he will not suf- fer believers " to be tempted above that they are able;" 1 Cor. 10 : 13; and thus, though the soil for a while be dis- turbed, it is not, as in the material sys- tem, carried altogether away, but soon resettles, and is again fit for the hus- bandman. But this is not all. Every overcome temptation, ministering, as it must do, to faith, and hope, and pa- tience, is virtually an assault on the 112 THE ADVANTAGES OF A STATE OF EXPECTATION. granite of a corrupt nature, and helps to break in pieces the rock of which there remains much in the breasts of the most pious. He who conquers a temptation takes a fresh step towards subduing himself; in other words, de- taches more particles from the stone and the iron. And thus, in most accu- rate correspondence, as in the natural world so in the spiritual, the tempest and torrent, which displace the soil, provide fresh material for all the pur- poses of vegetation : but there is this difference between the two: in the na- tural world, the old soil disappears, and its place is supplied by the new; in the spiritual, the old, disturbed for a while, subsides, and is then wonderfully deep- ened by accessions of new. Hope and patience, exercised by the appointed trials of life, cause an enrichment of the soil in which all christian graces flourish ; so that the grain of mustard seed, bursting into a tree, finds ample vspace for its roots, spreading them wide and striking them deep. And if this be no exaggerated account of the benefits resulting from a sedulous ex- ercise of hope and patience ; if it be true that he who, in the scriptural sense, hopes and quietly waits for sal- vation, is under that discipline which, of all others, ministers to the growth of dispositions acceptable to God ; we have omitted, it would seem, no step in the required demonstration, but have collected all the elements of proof, that " it is good that a man should both hope and quietly Avait for the salvation of the Lord." We would only further remark, though the statement is perhaps involved in the preceding, that the delay is good as af- fording time in which to glorify God. It is a spectacle which should stir all the anxieties and sympathies of a be- liever, that of a world which has been ransomed by blood-shedding, but which, nevertheless, is overspread with impie- ty and infidelity. The christian is the man of loyalty and uprightness, forced to dwell in the assemblings of traitors. With a heart that beats true to the king of the land, he must tarry amongst those who have thrown off allegiance. On all sides he must hear the plottings of treason, and behold the actings of rebellion. Can he fail to be wrought up to a longing, and effort, to arrest, in I some degree, the march of anarchy, and to bring beneath the sceptre of righ- teousness the revolted and ruined po- pulation"? Can he be an indifferent and cold-hearted spectator of the despite done to God by every class of society ; and shall there be no throbbing of spi- rit, and no yearning of soul, over thou- sands of his race, who, though redeem- ed by the sacrifice of Christ, are pre- paring themselves a heritage of fire and shame 1 We do but reason from the most invariable and well-known princi- ples of our nature, when we argue that, as a loyal and loving subject of Christ, the believer must fflow with righteous indignation at the bold, insults offered to his Lord, and long to bend every fa- culty and power to the diminishing the world's wretchedness by overcoming its rebellion. What stronger proof then can you ask of the goodness in ques- tion than that, whilst detained from glory, we may withstand impiety 1 It is yet a little while, and we shall be Avithdrawn from this scene of rebellion ; and no further effort, so far as we our- selves are concerned, can be made to- wards advancing Christ's kingdom. Oth- ers may come after us, of warmer loy- alty and more resolute zeal, and make better head against the tide of apostacj'^. But our own opportunities of vindica- ting Christ's honor, and extending the sway of his sceptre, will have altogeth- er passed away ; and the last glance which our spirits, in departing, cast up- on this earth, may show us impiety ca- reering with as dominant a footstep as ever, and send us into God's presence with a throb of self-reproach at the pau- city and poverty of our resistances to the might of the evil one. We doubt not, that, whatever the joy and peace of a christian's deathbed, there will be always a feeling of regret that so little has been done, or rather so little at- tempted, for Christ. And if, whilst his firmament is glowing with the dawn- ings of eternity, and the melody of an- gels is just stealing on his ear, and the walls of the bright city are bounding his horizon, one wish could detain him in the tabernacle of flesh ; oh, it would not be the wish of tarrying with the weeping ones who are clustered at his bedside ; and it would not be that of providing for children, of superintend- ing their education, or of perfecting THE ADVANTAGES OF A STATE OF EXPECTATION. 113 boinc plan for their settlement in life — he knows that there is a Husband of the widow and a Father of the fatherless — and the only wish which could put a check on his spirit, as the plumes of its wing just feel the free air, is that he might toil a little longer for Christ, and do at least some fractions more of his work, ere ushered into the light of his presence. And if the sinking energies were suddenly recruited, so that the pulse of the expiring man beat again vigorously; it miglit at first seem pain- ful to him to be snatched back from glo- ry ; but remembering, that, whilst vice is enthroned on the high places of the earth, and millions bow down to the stock and the stone, there is a mighty demand for all the strenuousness of the righteous, he would use returning strength in uttering the confession, it is good that I yet hope and wait for salvation. Now in winding up this subject of discourse, we have only to remark that religion gives a character to hope of which otherwise it is altogether desti- tute. You will scarcely find the man, in all the ranges of our creation, whose bosom bounds not at the mention of hope. What is hope but the solace and stay of those whom it most cheats and deludes ; whispering of health to the sick man, and of better days to the de- jected ; the fairy name on Avhich young- imaginations pour forth all the poetry of their souls, and whose syllables float, like aerial music, into the ear of frozen and paralyzed old age % In the long ca- talogue of human griefs tliere is scarce one of so crushing a pressure that hope loses its elasticity, becoming unable to soar, and bring down fresli and fair leaves from some far-olf domain which itself creates. And yet, whilst hope is the great inciter to exertion, and the great soother of wretchedness, who knows not that it ordinarily deceives mankind, and that, though it crowd the future with glorious resting-places, and thus tempt us to bear up a while against accumulated disasters, its palaces and gardens vanish as we approach ; and we are kept from despair only because the pinnacles and forests of another bright scene fringe the horizon, and the de- ceiver finds us willing to be yet again deceived! Hope is a beautiful meteor: but, nevertheles.s, this ineteor, like the rai.ibow, is not only lovely because of its »Gven rich and radiant stripes; it is the memorial of a covenant between man and his Maker, telling us that we are born for immortality ; destined, un- less we sepulchre our greatness, to the highest honor and noblest happiness. Hope proves man deathless. It is the struggle of the soul, breaking loose from what is perishable, and attesting her eternity. And when the eye of the mind is turned upon Christ, "delivered for our offences and raised again for our justification," Romans, 4 : 25, the unsub- stantial and deceitful character is takeu away from hope: hope is one of the prime pieces of that armor of proof in which the believer is arrayed; for St. Paul bids us take "for an helmet the hope of salvation." 1 Thess. 5:8. It is not good that a man hope for wealth, since "riches profit not in the day of wrath ;" Prov. 11:4; and it is not good that he hope for human honors, since the mean and mighty go down to the same burial : but it is good that he hope for salvation ; the meteor then gathers, like a golden halo, round his head, and, as he presses forward in the battle-time, no weapon of the evil one can pierce through that helmet. It is good, then, that he hope : it is good also that he quietly wait. There is much promised in Scripture to the waiting upon God. Men wish an imme- diate answer to prayer, and think them- selves forgotten unless the reply be in- stantaneous. It is a great mistake. The delay is often part, and the best part, of the answer. It exercises faith, and hope, and patience ; and what better thing can be done for us than the strengthening those graces to whose growth shall be proportioned the splendors of our im- mortality 1 It is good, then, that ye wait. " They that wait upon the Lord shall re- new their strength ; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary ; and they shall walk, and not faint." Isa. 40:31. And ye must, according to the phrase of our text, wait for God. " The Lord is a God of judg- ment ; blessed are all they that Avait for him." Isa. 30 : 18. And if the time seem long, and, worn down with affliction and wearied with toil, ye feel impatient for the moment of full emancipation — re- member ye — and let the remembrance check every murmur — that God leaves 15 114 TRUTH As IT IS IN JESUS. you upon earth in order that, advancing in holiness, you may secure yourselves a higher grade amongst the children of the first resurrection. Strive ye, there- fore, to " let patience have her perfect worlf." James, 1:4. It is ''yet a little while, and he that shall come will come." Heb. 10 : 37. Be ye not disheartened ; for "the night is far spent, the day is at band." Rom. 13: 12. As yet there has been no day to this creation, since re- bellion wove the sackcloth into the over- bead canopy. But the day comes on- ward. There is that edge of gold on the snow-mountains of a long-darkened world, which marks the ascending of the sun in his strength. " Watchman, what of the night 1 Watchman, what of the night] The watchman said, the morn- ing cometh and also the night." Isa. 21 : 1 1, 12. Strange that morning and night should come hand in hand. But the morning to the righteous, as bringing salvation, shall be the night to the wick- ed, as bringing destruction. On then, still on, lest the morning break, ere ho- ping and waiting have wrought their in- tent. Who will sleep, when, as he slum- bers, bright things glide by, which, if wakeful, he might have added to his por- tion! Who will put off the armor, when. by stemming the battle-tide, be may ga- ther, every instant, spoil and trophies for eternity % Who will tamper with carnal indulgences, when, for the poor enjoyment of a second, he must barter some everduring privilege % Wrestle, strive, fight, as men who " know that your labor is not in vain in the Lord." 1 Cor. 15 : 58. Ye cannot indeed merit ad- vancement. What is called reward will be the reward of nothing but God's work within you, and, therefore, be a gift most royal and gratuitous. But whilst there is the strongest instituted connection between attainment here and enjoyment hereafter, we need not pause upon terms, but may summon you to holiness by the certainties of happiness. The Judge of mankind com- eth, bringing with him rewards all won- derfully glorious ; but, nevertheless, " one star differeth from another star in glory." 1 Cor, 15 : 41. O God, it were an overwhelming mercy, and a magnificent portion, if we should obtain the least ; but since thou dost invite, yea, command us to '' strive for masteries," we will struggle — thy grace being our strength — for the higher and more beau- tiful. SERMON XI TRUTH AS IT IS IN JESUS " But ye have not so learned Christ ; if so be that ye have heard him, and have been taught by him, as the truth is in Jesus." — Ephesians, 4 : 20 and 21st. There is a singular verse in the Book of Ecclesiastes which appears directed against a common, though, perhaps, un- suspected error. "Say not thou what is the cause that the former days were better than these 1 for thou dost not inquire wisely concerning this." Eccl. 7:10. We believe that there exists a disposition in persons, and especially in old persons, to set present years in TRUTH AS IT IS IN JESUS. 115 contrast with the past, and to prove, from the comparison, a great and on- going deterioration in tiie character of mankind. And it is quite certain, that, if this disposition were observable in Solomon's days, as well as in our own, it must pass ordinarily as the mark of a jaundiced and ill-judging mind. If it have been true in some ages, it cannot have been in all, that the moral aspect of the times has grown gradually dark- er. We must be warranted, therefore, in ascribing a disposition which has subsisted through days of improve- ment, as well as of declension, to a peevish determination to find fault, and not to a sober sitting in judgment upon matters of fact. But the workings of the very same disposition may be traced under other and less obvious forms. We believe, for example, that men are often in- clined to compare the religious advan- tages of the earlier and later days of Christianity, and to uphold the superi- ority of the past to the present. It is imagined, that to have been numbered amongst the living when Jesus sojourn- ed upon earth, to have been permit- ted to behold the miracles which he wrought, and to hear from his own lips the truths of redemption — it is imagined, we say, that there must have been in this a privilege ampler in di- mensions than any which falls to men of later generations. And from such imagining there will spring often a kind of excusing, whether of infidelity, or of lukewarmness ; our not believing at all, or our believing only languidly, be- ing accounted for on the principle, that the evidence afforded is far less than might have been vouchsafed. Thus, under a specious, but more dangerous aspect, we are met again by the ques- tion, " What is the cause that the for- mer days were better than these f Now we believe the question to be grounded altogether on mistake. If there be advantage on one side as contrasted with the other, we are per- suaded that it lies with the present generation, and not with the past. It is true that the exhibition of miracu- lous energies, which was made in the cities of Judea, gave what ought to have been overwhelming attestation to the divinity of the mission of Jesus. If we possessed not the records of history to assure us of the contrary, we might be disposed to conclude, with much appearance of fairness, that they who beheld diseases scattered, and death mastered, by a word, must have instantly followed Him Avho wrought out the marvels. Yet we may easily certify ourselves, that the Jew was occupied by prejudices which must have more than counterbalanced his peculiar advantages. He had before him, so to speak, a sketch of his Mes- siah, whose accuracy he never thought of questioning ; and if a claimant of the Messiahship presented not the fea- tures which were foremost in this sketch, then, almost as a matter of course, his pretensions were rejected with scorn. It is nothing to say that ancient prophecy, more thoroughly in- vestigated, might have taught the Jew the error of expecting, on the first ad- vent of Messiah, a temporal prince and deliverer. The error was so ingrained into his spirit, that it was easier for him to refer miracles to the power of the evil one, than to suspect that he harbored a false expectation. So that, when we compare our own circumstan- ces with those of the Jew, it behoves us to remember, that, if we have not his advantages in supernatural mani- festations, neither have we his disad- vantages in national prepossessions. We are not to argue the effect produ- ced upon him, from that which might now be produced upon us, by the work- ing of miracles. In his case every feeling which results from early asso- ciation, or from the business of educa- tion, was enlisted against Christianity ; whereas it may almost be affirmed, that, in our case, every such feeling is on the side of Christianity, If, therefore, we al- low that the testimony, which we pos- sess to the truth of our religion, wears not outwardly the same mightiness as that afforded in the days of the Savior, we should still contend that the predis- posing circumstances in our own case far more than compensate the sensible witness in that of the Jew. We may yet farther observe, that not only are our disadvantages less, but, on a stricter examination, our ad- vantages will appear greater. We may think there would have been a vast ad- vantage in seeing Jesus work miracles; but, after all, wc could only have be- 116 TKUTH AS IT IS IN JESUS. lieved that he actually worked them. And if we can once certify ourselves of this fact, Ave occupy, in the strictest sense, the same position as though we had been spectators of the wonder. It would be altogether childish to main- tain, that I may not be just as certain of a thing which I have not seen, as of another which I have seen. Who is in any degree less confident, that there w^as once such a king as Henrj'' the Eighth on the throne of these realms, than that there is now such a king as William the Fourth 1 Or is there one of us who thinks that he would have felt more sure of there having been such a king as Henry the Eighth, had he lived in the times of that monarch in place of the present 1 V/e hold then the supposition to be indefensible, that the spectator of a miracle has necessa- rily an advantage over those who only hear of that miracle. Let there be clear and unequivocal testimony to the fact of the miracle having been Avrought, and the spectator and the hearer stand well nigh on a par. That there should be belief in the fact, is the highest result which can, in either case, be produced. But assuredly this result may as well be effected by the power of authenticated witness, as by the machinery of our senses. And, without question, the testimony to the truth of Christianity is of so growing a character, and each age, as it rolls away, pays in so large a contribution to the evidences of faith, that it were easy to prove, that the men of the pre- sent generation gain, rather than lose, hy distance from the first erection of the cross. It is saying but little, to affirm that we have as good grounds of persuasion that Jesus came from God, as we should have had, if permitted to behold the mighty Avorkings of his power. We are bold to say that Ave have even better grounds. The testi- mony of our senses, however convinc- ing for the moment, is of so fleeting and unsubstantial a character, that, a year or two after Ave had seen a mira- cle, Ave might be brought to question Avhether there had not been jugglery in the Avorker, or credulity in ourselves. If Ave found a nation up in arms, main- taining that there might have been ma- gic or trickery, but that there had not been supernatural power j we micvht, perchance, be easily borne down by the outcry, if the remembered Avitness of our eye-sight Avere all to Avhich appeal could be made. It is not difficult to begin to suspect ourselves in the Avrong, Avhen Ave find no one Avilling to allow us in the right. And we therefore main- tain, that, living as Ave do in a day Avhen generation after generation has sat in assize on Christianity, and registered a verdict that it has God for its author, Ave possess the very largest adA'antages over those Avho saAV Avith their OAvn eyes Avhat Jesus did, and heard Avith their OAvn ears Avhat Jesus said. Now you may not all readily perceiA'e the connection of these remarks Avith the passage of Scripture on Avhich we purpose to meditate. Yet the connec- tion is of the strictest. The apostle ad- dresses himself to conA^erts, avIio, like ourselves, had not been privileged to behold the Savior of mankind. Christ Jesus had not Avalked the streets of Ephesus: and if it be supposable that certain of the inhabitants of that idola- trous city had visited Judea during the period of his sojourning on earth, it is incredible that the Ephesian church, as a body, had enjoyed with Him personal communion. Does then St. Paul ad- dress the Ephesians as though disad- vantaged by this circumstance "? Does he represent them as less favored than their brethren of Jerusalem Avho had lived Avithin the circles of Christ's ministrations'? On the contrary, you Avould judge, from the style of his ad- dress, that he Avrote this Epistle to Jewish, and not to heathen converts. He speaks to the Ephesians of their having heard Christ, and of their hav- ing been taught by Christ. " If so be that ye have heard him, and have been taught by him." And Avhat shall Ave gather from this, but a rigid confir- mation of our foregoing remarks ; a strengthening of the opinion, that those Avho have not seen may stand in pre- cisely the same position as those Avho have; and that, consequently, the ab- sence of Avhat may be called sensible proof furnishes no groundAVork of com- plaint, that "the former days were bet- ter than these 1" We must, indeed, allow that the Ephesians Avere brought, more nearly than ourselves, into personal contact Avith Christ, because instructed by TRUTH AS IT IS IN JESUS. 117 teachers who had seen the Savior in the flesh. Yet as soon as testimony ceases to be the testimony of senses, and becomes that of witnesses, there is an identification of the circumstan- ces of men of former times, and of lat- ter. Whetlier the testimony be trans- mitted through one, or through many; wliether we receiv^e it from those who themselves saw the Savior, or from those who have taken the facts on the witness of others; there is the same dis- tinction between such testimony, and that resulting from being actual specta- tors, or actual auditors; and it might, therefore, be said to us, as Vv^ell as to the Ephesians, ye have heard Christ, and ye have been taught by Christ. But the portion of our text on which ■we would fix mainly your attention is the description of truth as made known by revelation. The teaching whereof the Ephesians had been the subjects, and which, therefore, we are bound to consider imparted to ourselves, is ex- pressly stated to be " as the truth is in Jesus." Now this is a singular de- finition of truth, and well worth your closest attention. We hold it unques- tionable, that, long ere Christ came in- to the world, much of truth, yea, of solid and illustrious truth, had been de- tected by the unaided searchings of mankind. We should not think that any advantage were gained to the cause of revelation, if we succeeded in de- monstrating, that, over the whole face of our planet, with the lonely exception of the narrow province of Judea, there had rested, previousl3r to the birth of the Redeemer, a darkness altogether impenetrable. We are quite ready to allow, that, where the full blaze was not made visible, glimmerings and sparklings were caught ; so that, if up- on no point, connected with futurity, perfect information were obtained, up- on many points a degree of intelligence Avas reached which should not be over- looked in our estimate of heathenism. We think it right to assert, under cer- tain limitations, that man, whilst left to himself, dug fragments of truth from the mighty quarry ; though we know that he possessed not the ability of fashioning completely the statue, nor even of combining into symmetry the detached portions brought up by [his oft-renewed strivings. We do not, therefore, suppose it implied in the ex- pression of our text, that truth was un- known amongst men until, having been taught by the Redeemer, it might be designated "truth as it is in Jesus." On the contrary, we are persuaded that the Ephesians, however shut out from the advantages of previous revelations, possessed many elements of moral truth before Christ's apostles appeared in their city. Hence the definition of our text implies not, that, out of Jesus, there were no discoverable manifesta- tions of truth ; but rather, that truth, when seen in and through Jesus, as- sumes new and distinguishing features. And it is upon this fact we desire, on the present occasion, to turn the main of your attention. Vv'"e admit that cer- tain portions of Christ's teaching rela- ted to truths which were not then, for the first time, made known to mankind. Other portions either involved new disclosures, or brought facts into no- tice which had been strangely and fatally overlooked. But whether the truth were new or old, the circum- stance of its being truth " as it is in Jesus," gave it an aspect, and a cha- racter, which it would never have as- sumed, if communicated through an- other channel than the Mediator. Such we hold to be the drift of the expres- sion. It becomes, then, our business to endeavor to prove, that " truth, as it is in Jesus," puts on a clothing, or a color- ing, derived from the Redeemer ; so that if you separate truth from him who is "the way, the truth, and the life," John, 14 : 6, it shall seem practically a different thing from itself when con- nected with this glorious personage. Now we shall take truth under two principal divisions, and compare it as "it is in Jesus" with what it is out of Jesus. We shall refer, first, to those truths which have to do with God's nature and character; secondly, to those which have to do with man's con- dition. There maj^ be, indeed, many minor departments of moral truth. But we think that these two great divisions include most, if not all, of the lesser. We turn then, first, to the truths which have to do with the nature and character of God. We begin with the lowest element of truth; namely, that there is a great first cause, through whose agency hath arisen the fair and lis TRUTH AS IT IS IN JESUS. costly fabric of the visible universe. We have here a truth, which, under some shape or another, has been recog- nized and held in every age, and by every nation. Barbarism and civiliza- tion have had to do with peculiar forms and modifications of this truth. But neither the rude processes of the one, nor the attenuating of the other, have availed to produce its utter banishment from the earth. However various the tribes into which the human race hath been broken, the phenomenon has ne- ver existed of a nation of atheists. The voyagers who have passed over waters which had never been ploughed by the seaman, and lighted upon islands whose loneliness had shut them out from the knowledge and companionship of other districts of the globe, have found al- ways, amid the savage and secluded inhabitants, the notion of some invisi- ble being, great in his power, and aw- ful in his vengeance. We cannot, there- fore, in any sense maintain, that the truth of the existence of a God was undiscovered truth, so long as it Avas not "truth as it is in Jesus." Christ came not to teach what natural, or ra- ther traditional, religion was capable of teaching ; though he gave sanctions to its lessons, of which, heretofore, they had been altogether destitute. But take the truth of the existence of a God as it is out of Jesus, and then take that truth as it is in Jesus, and let us see whe- ther, in the two cases, the same truth Avill not bear a very different aspect. We know it to be said of Christ by St. Paul, that he was " the image of the invisible God." Colos. 1 : 15. It seems to us that the sense, in which Christ is the image, is akin to that in which he is the word of the Almighty. What speech is to thought, that is the in- carnate Son to the invisible Father, Thought is a viewless thing. It can traverse space, and run to and fro through creation, and pass instantane- ously from one extreme of the scale of being to the other ; and, all the while, there is no power in my fellow-men to discern the careerings of this mysteri- ous agent. But speech is manifested thought. It is thought embodied ; made sensible, and palpable, to those who could not apprehend it in its secret and silent expatiations. And precisely what speech thusefTects in regard to thought, the incarnate Son effected in regard to the invisible Father. The Son is the manifested Father, and, therefore, fitly termed " the Word :" the relation be- tween the incarnate Son and the Father being accurately that between speech and thought ; the one exhibiting and setting forth the other. It is in some- what of a similar sense that Christ may be termed '' the image of the invisible God." "God is a Spirit." John, 4: 24. Of this spirit the creation is every where full, and the loneliest and most secluded spot is occupied by its pre- sence. Nevertheless, we can discern little of the universal goings forth of this Deity. There are works above us, and around us, which present tokens of his wisdom and supremacy. But these, after all, are only feeble manifestations of his more illustrious attributes. Nay, they leave those attributes well-nigh wholly unrevealed. I cannot learn God's holiness from the stars or the mountains. I cannot read his faithful- ness in the ocean or the cataract. Even his wisdom, and power, and love, are but faintly portrayed in the torn and disjointed fragments of this fallen crea- tion. And seeing, therefore, that Dei- ty, invisible as to his essence, can be- come visible as to his attributes, only through some direct manifestation not found in his material workmanship, God sent his well-beloved Son to assume our flesh ; and this Son, exhibiting in and through his humanity as much of his divine properties as creatureship could admit, became unto mankind " the image of the invisible God." He did not, in strict matter-of-fact, reveal to mankind that there is a God. But he made known to them, most powerfully, and most abundantly, the nature and attributes of God. The beams of di- vinity, passing through his humanity as through a softening medium, shone upon the earth with a lustre sufficient- ly tempered to allow of their irradi- ating, without scorching and consum- ing. And they who gazed on this mys- terious person, moving in his purity, and his benevolence, through the lines of a depraved and scornful population, saw not indeed God — " for no man hath seen God at any time," 1 John, 4< : 12, and spirit must necessarily evade the searchings of sense — but they saw God imaged with the most thorough fidoli- TRUTH AS IT IS IN JESUS. 119 ly, and his every property^'embodied, so far as the immaterial can discover itself through the material. Now we think you can scarcely fail to perceive, that if you detach the truth of the being of a God from Jesus, and if you then take this truth " as it is in Jesus," the difference in aspect is almost a difference in the truth itself. Apart from revelation, I can believe that there is a God. I look upon the wonder-workings by which I am en- compassed ; and I must sacrifice all that belongs to me as a rational creature, if I espouse the theory that chance has been parent to the splendid combina- tions. j,But what can be more vague, what more indefinite, than those no- tions of Deity which reason, at the best, is capable of forming "? The evil which is mixed with good in the creation ; the disordered appearances which seem to mark the absence of a supreme and vigilant government ; the frequent tri- umph of wickedness, and the corre- spondent depression of virtue ; these, and the like stern and undeniable mys- teries, will perplex me in every attempt to master satisfactorily the Unity of Godhead. But let me regard Jesus as making known to me God, and straight- way there succeeds a calm to my con- fused and unsettled imaginings. He tells me by his words, and shows me by his actions, that all things are at the disposal of one eternal and inscrutable Creator. Putting forth superhuman : ability alike in the bestowment of what is good, and in the removal of what is evil, he furnishes me with the strictest demonstration that there are not two principles which can pretend to hold sway in the universe ; but that God, a being without rival, and alone in his majesties, created whatsoever is good, and permitted whatsoever is evil. Thus the truth, the foundation of truth, of the existence of a God, takes {■■ the strength, and the complexion, of V health, only in the degree that it is 'truth "as it is in Jesus." Men labored 1 and struggled hard to reach the doc- ! trine of the unity of Godhead. But phi- I losophy, with all the splendor of its ; discoveries, could never banish poly- r theism from the earth. It was reser- I ved for Christianity to establish a truth ' which, now, we are disposed to class ' amonffst the elements of even natural theology. And wlien you contrast the belief in the existence of Deity which obtained generally before the coming of Christ, with that established where- soever the Gospel gains footing as a communication from heaven ; the one, a belief in many gods ; the other, a be- lief in one God — the first, therefore, a belief from which reason herself now instinctively recoils; the second, a be- lief which carries on its front the dig- nity and beauty of a sublime moral fact — why, you will all quickly admit that the truth of the existence of God, as it is out of Jesus, differs, immeasurably, from that same truth, " as it is in Je- sus:" and you will thus grant the ac- curacy of the proposition now under review, namely, that truth becomes, practically, new truth, and effective truth, by being truth " as it is in Jesus." Now, so far as natural theology is concerned, we derive, ordinarily, the truth of the existence of God from the curious and mighty workmanship of the visible creation. We conclude that a great intelligent cause must have spread out this panorama of grandeur, and loveliness, and contrivance. But let us deal with the truth, that God built the worlds, just as with the other truth of there being a God. Let us take it out of Jesus, and then let us take it in Jesus. It is a vast deal easier for the mind to push onward into what is to come, than backward into what is past. Let a thing exist, and we can, in a certain sense, master the thought of its exist- ence being indefinitely continued. But if, in searching out the beginnings of its existence, we can find no period at which it was not, then presently the mind is confounded, and the idea is too vast for its most giant-like grapplings. This is exactly the case Vv^th regard to the Godhead. We are able, compara- tively speaking, to take in the truth, that God shall never cease to be. But we have no capacity whatsoever for this other truth, that God hath always been. I could go back a thousand ages, or a million ages, ay, or a thousand mil- lions of ages; and though the mind might be wearied with traversing so vast a district of time, yet if I then reached a point where pausing I might say, here Deity began, here Godhead first rose into being, the worn spirit would recruit itself, and feel that the i20 end compensated the toil of the jour- neying. But it is the being unable to assign any beginning j rather, it is the knowing that there never was begin- ning ; this it is, wc say, Avhich hopeless- ly distances every finite intelligence ; the most magnificent, but certainly, at the same time, the most overpowering truth, being that He, at whose word the universe commenced, knew never himself a moment of commencement. Now the necessity under which we thus lie of ascribing beginning to God's works, but not to God himself, forces on us the contemplation of a period when no worlds had started into being ; and space, in its infinite circuits, was full only of the Eternal One. And then comes the question, as to the design and purpose of Deity in peopling with systems the majestic solitude, and sur- rounding himself with various orders of creatures. W'e confess, in all its breadth, the truth that God made the worlds. But the mind passes instantly on to the inquiry, why, and wherefore did He make theml And if you take the truth of the crea- tion of the universe out of Jesus, there is nothing but vague answer to give to such inquiry. We may think that God's benevolence craved dependent objects over which it might pour its solici- tudes. We may imagine that there was such desire of companionship, even in Deity, that it pleased not the Creator to remain longer alone. But we must not forget, that, in assigning such rea- sons, we verge to the error of suppos- ing a void in the happiness of God, the filling-up of which tasked the energies of his Almightiness. In answering a question, we are bound to take heed that we originate not others far more difficult of solution. We take then the truth of the crea- tion, " as it is in Jesus," and we will see whether it assume not very differ- ent" features from those worn by it, as it is out of Jesus, We learn, from the testimony of St. Paul, that "all things were created by Christ, and for Christ." Col. 1 : 16. We would fix attention to this latter fact, "all things were crea- ted for Christ." We gather from this fact that the gorgeous structure of ma- terialism, spreading interminably above us and around us, is nothing more than an august temple, reared for consecra- TUUTH AS IT 13 IN JESUS. tion to the Mediator's glory. "' All things were created for Christ." You ask me why God spangled the firma- ment with stars, and paved with worlds the expansions of an untravelled im- mensity, and poured forth the rich en- dowment of life on countless myriads of multiform creatures. And I tell you, that, if you debar me from acquaint- ance with "God manifest in theliesh," 1 Tim. 3 : 16, I may give you in reply some brilliant guess, or dazzling con- jecture, but nothing that will commend itself to thoughtful and well-disciplin- ed minds. But the instant that I am brought into contact with revelation, and can associate creation with Christ, as alike its author and object, I have an answer which is altogether free from the vagueness of speculation. I can tell you that the star twinkles not on the measureless expanse, and that the creatures move not on any one of those worlds whose number outruns our arithmetic, which hath not been cre- ated for the manifestation of Christ's glorj'-, and the advancement of Christ's purposes. We may not be able to de- fine, with accuracy, the sublime ends which shall yet be attained, when evil is expelled from this long-defiled sec- tion of the universe. We know only, that, though an infidel world is banish- ing Christ from its councils, and the ranks of the blasphemer are leaguing to sweep away his name, and the scof- fers are insolently asking " where is the promise of his coming;" 2 Peter, 3:4-; he shall descend with the cloud and the hurricane as his heraldry, and, circled with the magnificent sternness of celestial battle, turn the theatre of his humiliation into the theatre of his triumphs. Then — when " the spirits of just men made perfect," Heb. 12 : 23, shall have entered into the raised and glorified bodies ; and when the splen- did and rejoicing multitude shall walk forth on the new earth, and be cano- pied with the new heavens — Christ shall emphatically " see of the travail of his soul;" Isa. 53: 11; and then, from every field of immensity, crowded with admiring spectators, shall there roll in the ecstatic acknowledgment, " worthy, worthy, worthy is the Lamb." But, without descending to particulars, we^may assert it unequivocally proved by sundry declarations of the Bible, TEUTH AS IT IS IK JESUS. 121 that suns, and planets, and angels, and men, tlie material creation with its walls, and domes, and columns, and the immaterial with its train upon train of lofty spirits — all these constitute one vast apparatus for effecting a mighty enthronement of Jesus of Nazareth. And if you recur to the work of con- trast in which we are engaged ; if you compare the truth of creation as it is out of Jesus with that same truth as it is in Jesus ; then, v/hen you observe that, in the one case, the mind has no- thing of a resting-place — that it can only wander over the fields which God hath strewed Vv'ith his wonders, con- founded by the lustre without divining the intention — whereas, in the other, each star, each system, each human, each celestial being, fills some place in a mechanism which is working out the noble result of the coronation of Christ as Lord of all j why, we feel that the assent of every one in this assembly must be won to the position, that old truth becomes wellnigh new truth by being truth ^' as it is in Jesus." But we wish to set before you yet simpler illustrations of the matter which we are engaged in demonstrating. The point we have in hand is the showing that truths, which refer to God's char- acter, must be viewed in connection with Jesus, in order to their being rightly understood, or justly appreci- ated. We have endeavored to substan- tiate this, so far as the nature and works of the Almighty are concerned. Let us turn, however, for a few moments, to his attributes, and we shall find our position greatly corroborated. We take, for example, the justice of God. We might obtain, independently on the scheme of redemption, a defi- nite and firm-built persuasion, that God is a just God, taking cognizance of the transgressions of his creatures. We do not, then, so refer to the sacrifice of Christ for proof of God's justice, as though no proof could be elsewhere obtained. The God of natural religion must be a God to Vv-hom sundry perfec- tions are ascribed 5 and amongst such perfections justice will find, necessari- ly, a place. But we argue that the de- monstration of theory will never com- mend itself to men's minds like the de- j monstration of practice. There might ! have come to us a revelation fromhea- 1 ven, ushered in with incontrovertible witness 5 and this revelation might have stated, in language the boldest and most unqualified, that God's justice could overlook no iota of oflence, and dispense with no tittle of punishment. But, had we been left without a vivid exhibition of the workings of this jus- tice, we should perpetually have soft- ened down the statements of the word, and argued that, in all probability, far more was said than ever would be done. We should have reasoned up from hu- man enactments to divine ; and, finding that the former are oftentimes far lar- ger in the threatening than in the ex- action, have concluded that the latter might, at last, exhibit the like ine- quality. Now if we would deliver the truth of God's justice from these misappre- hensions, whether wilful or accidental, Avhat process, we ask of you, lies at our disposal! It is quite useless to try abstract reasoning. The mmd can evade it, and the heart has no concern with it. It Avill avail nothing to insist on the literal force of expressions. The whole mischief lies in the questioning the thorough putting into eflect; in the doubting Avhether what is denounced shall be point by point inflicted. What then shall we do with this truth of God's justice 1 We reply, Vv'e must make it truth " as it is in Jesus." We send a man at once to the cross of Christ. We bid him gaze on the illus- trious and mysterious victim, stooping beneath the amazing burden of human transgression. We ask him whether he think there was remission of penalty on behalf of Him, who, though clothed in humanitj'-, was one with Deitj' ; or that the vials of wrath were spoiled of any of their scalding drops, ere empti- ed on the surety of our alienated tribes % We ask him whether the agonies of the garden, and the terrors of the cruci- fixion, furnish not a sufficient and thrilling demonstration, that God's jus- tice, when it takes in hand the exac- tion of punishment, does the work thor- oughly ; so that no bolt is too ponder- ous to be driven into the soul, no of- fence too minute to be set dov.n in the reckoning 1 And if, when the sword of justice awoke against the fellow of the Almighty, it returned not to the scab- bard till' bathed in the anguish of the 16 122 TRUTH AS IT IS IN JESUS. sufferer ; and if God's hatred of sin be so intense and overwhelming a thing, that, ere transgressors could be receiv- ed into favor, the Eternal Son inter- posed and humbled himself so that an- gels drew back confounded, and en- dured vicariously such extremity of wretchedness that the earth reeled at the spectacle, and the heavens were darkened ; why, shall there, or can there, be harborage of the deceitful expectation, that if any one of us, the sons of the apostate, rush on the bosses of the buckler of the Lord, and make trial for himself of the justice of the Almighty, he shall not find that justice as strict in its works as it is stern in its words, prepared to deal out to him, unsparingly and unflinchingly, the fiery portion whose threatenings glare from the pages of Scripture 1 So then Ave may count it legitimate to maintain, that the truth of God being a just God is appreciated truth, and effective truth, only in the degree that it is truth " as it is in Jesus:" and we add, conse- quently, new witness to the fact, that the definition of our text describes truth accurately under its influential and life-giving forms. We may pursue much the same line of argument in reference to the truth of the love of God. We may confess, that he who looks not at this attribute J through the person and work of the ^ Mediator, may obtain ideas of it which shall, in certain respects, be correct. And yet, after all, it would be hard to prove satisfactorily, by natural theolo- gy, that " God is love." John, 4> : 8. There may be a kind of poetical, or Arcadian divinity, drawn from the brightness of sunshine, and the rich enamel of flowers, and the deep dark blue of a sleeping lake. And, taking the glowing landscape as their page of theology, men may sketch to them- selves God unlimited in his benevo- lence. But when the sunshine is suc- ceeded by the darkness, and the flowers are Avithered, and the Avaters Avrought into madness, can they find in the Avrath and devastation that assurance of God's love which they derived, unhesitating- ly, from the calm and the beauty 1 The matter of fact Ave hold to be, that Na- tural Theology, at the best, is a system of uncertainties, a balancing of oppo- sites. I should draAV difllsrent conclu- sions from the genial breathings of one day, and the desolating simoom of the next. And though AAdien I had thrown me doAvn on an alpine summit, and look- ed forth on the clusterings of the grand and the lovely, canopied with an azure that was full of glory ; a hope, that my Creator loved me, might have been ga- thered from scenery teeming Avith im- presses of kindness, and apparently sending out from Avaving forests, and gushing fountains, and smiling villages, the anthem of an acknoAvledgment that God is infinitely beneficent ; yet if, on a sudden, there passed around me the rushings of the hurricane, and there came up from the valleys the shrieks of an affrighted peasantry, and the torrents Avent down in their strength, sweeping away the labor of man's hands, and the corn and the Avood which had croAvned the fields as a diadem ; oh, the confidence Avhich had been given me by an exhibition which appeared eloquent of the benevolence of God- head, Avould yield to horror and trepi- dation, whilst the Eternal One seemed walking before me, the tempest his voice, and the lightning his glance, and a fierce devastation in his every foot- print. But even allowing the idea gained, that '^ God is love," there is no proper- ty of the Creator concerning Avhich it is easier to fall into mistake. We have no standard by Avhich to estimate di- vine affections, unless one which we fashion out of the results of the work- ings of human. And Ave know Avell enough, that, amongst ourselves, an in- tense and overweening attachment is almost sure to blind man to the faults of its object, or to cause, at the least, that Avhen the faults are discerned, due blame is Avithheld. So that, Avhilst Ave I have not before us a distinct exhibition j of God's love, Ave may fall naturally into the error of ascribing an effemi- nate tenderness to the Almighty, and reckon, exactly in proportion as Ave judge the love amazing, that it Avill never permit our being given over to torment. Hence, admitting it to be truth, yea, most glorious and blessed truth, that the creature is loved by the Creator, this truth must be viewed through a rectifying medium, Avhich shall correct the distortions Avhich a depraved nature produces. TRUTH AS IT IS IN JESUS. 123 Now we maintain again that this rectifying medium must be the person and work of the Savior. In other words, we must make the truth of God's love, truth " as it is in Jesus," and then, at one and the same time, we shall know how ample is the love, and be guarded against abusing it. When we observe that God loved us so well as to give his Son to death for us, we perceive that the immenseness of this love leaves imagination far behind in her least-fet- tered soarings. But when we also ob- serve that love, so unheard of, could not advance straight to the rescue of its objects, but must wait, ere it could breathe words of forgiveness to the fallen, the outworkings of a task of ig- nominy and blood ; there must vanish, at once, the idle expectancy of a ten- derness not proof against the cry of despair, and we must learn (unless we wilfully close the mind against convic- tion) that the love of a holy, and righ- teous, and immutable Being is that amazing principle, which can stir the universe in our behalf during the sea- son of grace, and yet, as soon as that season have terminated, resign us un- hesitatingly to the ministry of ven- geance. Thus, take the truth of God's love out of Jesus, and you will dress up a weak and womanish sympathy, Avhich cannot permit the punishment of the disobedient. But, on the other hand, take this truth ''as it is in Jesus," and you have the love immeasurable in its stature, but uncompromising in its pe- nalties; eager to deliver the meanest who repents, yet nerved to abandon the thousands who die hardened ; threat- ening, therefore, the obdurate in the very degree that it encourages the pe- nitent : and when you thus contrast 1 truth " as it is in Jesus," with truth as ' it is out of Jesus, you will more and more recognize the power and the worth of the expression, that the Ephe- I sians had been taught " as the truth is ! in Jesus." We might employ this kind of illus- • tration in regard to other attributes of j God. We might show you that cor- i rect and practical views of the truths I of God's faithfulness, God's holiness, 1 God's wisdom, are only to be derived ■ from the work of redemption ; and this would be showing you that truth must be truth "as it is in Jesus," if we would acquaint ourselves with the cha- racter of God. But we wave the fur- ther prosecution of our first head of discourse, and ask attention to a few remarks which have to do with the se- cond. We divided truth into two great de- partments; truth which relates to the character of God, truth which relates to the condition of man. We proceed, therefore, to affirm, in reference to the condition of man, that truth, if rightly understood, or thoroughly influential, must be truth " as it is in Jesus." We find it admitted, for example, in most quarters, that man is a fallen being, with faculties weakened, if not wholly incapacitated for moral achievement. Yet this general admission is one of the most heartless, and unmeaning things in the world. It consists with the har- boring pride and conceit. It tolerates many forms and actings of self-righte- ousness. And the matter-of-fact is, that man's moral disability is not to be described, and not understood theore- tically. We want some bold, definite, and tangible measurements. But we shall find these only in the work of Christ Jesus. I learn the depth to which I have sunk, from the length of the chain let down to updraw me. I ascertain the mightiness of the ruin by examining the machinery of restora- tion. I gather that I must be, in the broadest sense, unable to effect deli- verance for myself, from observing that none less than the Son of the Highest had strength enough to fight the bat- tles of our race. Thus the truth of hu- man apostacy, of human corruption, of human helplessness — how shall this be understood truth and efiective 1 We answer, simply through being truth " as it is in Jesus." In the history of the Incarnation and Crucifixion we read, in characters not to be misinter- preted, the announcements, that man has destroyed himself, and that, what- ever his original powers, he is now void of ability to turn unto God, and do things well-pleasing in his sight. You do not, indeed, alter these truths, if you destroy all knowledge of the In- carnation and Crucifixion. But you re- move their massive and resistless ex- hibition, and leave us to our own vague and partial computations. We have no- thing practical to which to appeal, no- 124 TRUTH AS IT IS IX JESUS. thing fixed by which always to estimate. Thus, in spite of a seeming recognition of trr.th, we sliall be turned adrift on a wide sea of ignorance and self-sufficien- cy ; and all because truth may be to us truth as it is in moral philosophy, truth as it is in well-arranged ethics, truth as it is in lucid and incontrovertible statements; and yet prove nothing but despised, and ill-understood, and pow- erless truth, as not being to us truth " as it is in Jesus." We add that the law of God, which has been given for the regulation of our conduct, is a wonderful compendium of truth. There is not a single working of wickedness, though it be the light- est and most secret, which escapes the denouncements of this law ; so that the statute-book proves itself truth by delineating, with an unvarying accura- cy, the whole service of the father of lies. But who knows any thing of this truth, unless acquainted with the law as expounded and fulfilled by Christ 1 Christ in his discourses expanded every precept, and in his obedience exhibited every demand. He, therefore, who Avould know the truth which there is in the law, must know this truth " as it is in Jesus." He moreover, who would not be appalled by this truth, must view it '' as it is in Jesus." Know- ledo-e of the law Avould crush a man, if unaccompanied by the consciousness that Christ obeyed the law in his stead. So that truth " as it is in Jesus," this is knowledge, and this is comfort. And finally — for we must hurry over ground where there is much which might tempt us to linger — look at the context of the words under review, and you will find that truth " as it is in Jesus," differs from that truth as it is out of Jesus, in being a sanctifying thing. The Ephesians were " taught as the truth is in Jesus," to "put off, concerning the former conversation, the old man, which is corrupt according to the de- ceitful lusts," Hence — and this after all is the grand distinction — truth, "as it is in Jesus," is a thing of the heart ; whereas truth, as it is out of Jesus, is a thing of the head. Dear Brethren, ye cannot be too often told that without holiness " no man shall see the Lord." Hebrews, 1"2, : I4-. If no vigorous pro- cess of s.inctitication be going on with- in, we are destitute of the organs by which to read truth in the holy child Jesus. Or, rather, we are ignorant of the characters in which truth is graven on the Savior : and therefore, though we may read it in books and manu- scripts, on the glorious scroll of the heavens, and in the beautiful tracery of forest and mountain, we can never peruse it as written in the person and work of God's only and well-beloved Son. The mortification of the flesh — the keeping under the body — the pluck- ing out the offending right eye — the cutting ofl;' the ofl^ending right hand — these, so to speak, are the processes of tuition by which men are taught " as the truth is in Jesus." Sanctification conducts to knowledge, and then knov/- ledge speeds the work of sanctification. We beseech you, therefore, that ye strive, through God's grace, to give yourselves to the business of putting off the old man. Will ye aflirm that ye believe there is a heaven, and yet act as though persuaded that it is not worth striving fori Believe, only believe, that a day of coronation is yet to break on this long-darkened globe, and the sinews will be strung, like those of the wrestlers of old, who saw the garlands in the judges hands, and locked them- selves in an iron embrace. Strive — for the grasp of a destroyer is upon you, and if ye be not wrenched away, it will palsy you, and crush j^ou. Strive — for the foe is on the right hand, on the left hand, before you, behind you ; and ye must be trampled under foot, if ye struggle not, and strike not, as those who feel themselves bound in a death- grapple. Strive — there is a crown to be won — the mines of the earth have not furnished its metal, and the depths of the sea hide nothing so radiant as the jewels with which it is Avreathed. Strive — for if ye gain not this crown — Alas ! alas ! ye must have the scor- pions for ever round the forehead, and the circles of that flame which is fan- ned by the breath of the Almighty's displeasure. Strive then, but strive in the strength of your risen Lord, and not in your own. Ye know not how soon that Lord may come. Whilst the sun walks his usual path on the firmament, and the grass is springing in our fields, and mer- chants are crowding the exchange, and politicians jostling for place, and the THE DIFFlCULTleS OF SCRIPTURE. 125 voluptuous killing time, and the avari- cious countino; gold, " the sign of the Son of Man," Matthew, 24 : 30, shall be seen in the heavens, and the august throne of fire and of cloud be piled for judgment. Be ye then persuaded. If not persuaded, be ye alarmed. There is truth in Jesus which is terrible, as well as truth which is soothing : terrible, for he shall be Judge as well as Savior ; and ye cannot face Him, ye cannot stand before Him, unless ye now give ear to His invitation, " Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Matthew, 11: 28. SERMON XII. THE DIFFICULTIES OF SCRIPTURE. •' In which are sonic things hard to be understood, which they that are unlearned and unstable wrest, as they do also the other Scriptures, unto their own destruction." — 2 Peter, 3 : 16. The writings of St. Paul, occupying, as they do, a large portion of the New Testament, treat much of the sublimer and more difficult articles of Christiani- ty. It is undeniable that there is a great deal made known to us by the Epistles, ] ■which could only imperfectly, if at all, [ be derived from the Gospels. We have ! the testimony of Christ himself that he had many things to say to his disciples, which, Avhilst he yet ministered on earth, they were not prepared to re- ceive. Hence it was altogether to be expected that the New Testament would be, what we find it, a progressive book ; the communications of intelligence growing with the fuller opening out of the dispensation. The deep things of the sovereignty of God ; the mode of the justification of sinners, and its per- fect consistence with all the attributes of the Creator; the mysteries bound up in the rejection of the Jew and the calling of tiie Gentile ; these enter largely into the Epistles of St. Paul, though only faintly intimated by wri- ters who precede him in the canon of Scripture. And it is a natural and un- avoidable consequence on the greater abstruseness of the topics which are handled, that the apostle's writings should present greater difficulties to the Biblical student. With the excep- tion of the Book of Revelation, which, as dealing with the future, is necessa- rily hard to be interpreted, the Epistle to the Romans is probably that part of the New Testament which most de- mands the labors of the commentator. And though we select this epistle as pre-eminent in difficulties, we may say generally of the Avritings of St. Paul, that, whilst they present simple and beautiful truths which all may under- stand, they contain statements of doc- trine, which, even after long study and prayer, will be but partially unfolded by the most gifted inquirers. With this admission of difficulty Ave must join the likelihood of misconception and misap- plication. Where there is confessedly obscurity, we may naturally expect that wrong theories will be formed, and erroneous inferences deduced. If it be hard to determine the true meaning of a passage, it can scarcely fail that some false interpretation will be advanced, or espoused, by the p; rtisans of theo- logical systems. If a n. m have error to maintain, he will turn for support to 126 THE DIFFICULTIES OF SCRIPTXTRE. passages of Scripture, of which, the real sense being doubtful, a plausible may be advanced on the side of his falsehood. If, again, an individual wish to persuade himself to believe tenets which encourage him in presumption and unholiness, he may easily fasten on separate verses, which, taken by them- selves, and without concern for the analogy of faith, seem to mark out privileges superseding the necessity of striving against sin. So that we can find no cause of surprise in the fact, that St. Peter should speak of the Epis- tles of St. Paul as wrested by the ^' un- learned and unstable" to their own de- struction. He admits that in these Epistles " are some things hard to be understood." And we consider it, as we have just explained, a necessary consequence on the difficulties, that there should be perversions, whether wilful or unintentional, of the writings. But you will observe, that, whilst St. Peter confesses both the difficulty and the attendant danger, he gives not the slightest intimation that the Epistles of St. Paul were unsuited to general perusal. The Roman Catholic, when supporting that tenet of his church Avhich shuts up the Bible from the lai- ty, will appeal confidently to this state- ment of St. Peter, arguing that the al- lowed difficulty, and the declared dan- ger, give the Apostle's authority to the measure of exclusion. But certainly it were not easy to find a more strained and far-fetched defence. Had St. Peter intended to infer, that, because obscu- rity and abuse existed, there ought to be prohibition, it is altogether unac- countable that he did not lay down the inference. A fairer opportunity could never be presented for the announce- ment of such a rule as the Roman Ca- tholic advocates. And the mere find- ings that, when an inspired writer speaks of the dangers of perusal, he gives not even a hint which can be tor- tured into sanction of its prohibition, is, in itself, so overpowering a witness to the right of all men to read the Bi- ble for themselves, that we wonder at the infatuation of those who can ap- peal to the passage as supporting a counter-opinion. You will observe that whilst St. Peter speaks only of the wri- tings of St. Paul as presenting "things hard to be understood," he extends to the whole Bible the wresting of the un- learned and unstable. So that, when there is wanting that chastened, and teachable, and prayerful disposition, which should always be brought to the study of Scripture, the plainest pas- sages and the most obscure may be equally abused. After all, it is not so much the difficulty which makes the danger, as the temper in which the Bi- ble is perused. And if St. Peter's state- ment prove any thing, it proves that selections from Holy Writ, such as the papist will allow, are to the full as fraught with peril as the unmutilated volume; and that, therefore, unless a man is to read all, he ought not to read a line. We cannot but admire the man- ner in which the apostle has expressed himself. If he had specified difficulties; if he had stated that it was upon such or such points that St. Paul's Epistles, or the Scriptures in general, were ob- scure ; those who are disposed to give part, and to keep back part, might have had a ground for their decision, and a rule for their selection. But since we have nothing but a round assertion that all the Scriptures may be, and are, wrested by the unlearned and unstable, there is left us no right of determining what is fit for perusal and what is not fit ; so that, in allowing a solitary verse to be read, we run the same risk as in allowing every chapter from the first to the last. Thus we hold it clear to eve- ry candid inquirer, that our text sim- ply proves the necessity of a right tem- per to the profitable perusal of the Bi- ble. It gives no such exclusive charac- teristic to the writings of St. Paul, as would warrant our pronouncing them peculiarly unsuited to the weak and il- literate. If it sanction the withdraw- ment of any part of the Bible, it im- peratively demands the withdrawment of the whole. And forasmuch as it thus gives not the shadow of authority to - the selection of one part and the omis- sion of another ; and forasmuch, more- over, as it contains not the remotest hint that danger is a reason for shut- ting up the Scriptures ; we rather learn from the passage, that free as the air should he the Bible to the whole hu- man population, than that a priesthood, sitting in assize on its contents, may dole out fragments of the word, or keep it, if they please, undividedly to themselves. THE DIFFICULTIES OF SCRIPTURE. 127 ■ We are not, however, required, in addressing a protestant assembly, to expose, at any length, the falsehood of that doctrine of popery to which we have referred. We introduced its men- tion, simply because its advocates en- deavor to uphold it by our text. They just give a new witness to the truth of the text. They show, that, like the rest of the Scriptures, this verse may be perverted. The very passage which declares that all Scripture may be Avrested, has itself been wrested to the worst and most pernicious of pur- poses. So that, as if in verification of the statement of St. Peter, when that statement became part of the Bible, it was seized upon by the " un- learned and unstable," and wrenched from its original bearings. But we desire, on the present oc- casion, to bring before you what Ave count important considerations, sug- gested by the announcement that there are difficulties in Scripture. We have the decision of an inspired writer, that in the volume of inspiration there " are some things hard to be under- stood." We lay great stress on the fact, that it is an inspired writer who gives this decision. The Bible attests the difficulties of the Bible. If we knew the Bible to be difficult, only as finding it difficult, we might be incli- ned to suppose it luminous to others, though obscure to ourselves. We should not so thoroughly understand that the difficulties, which one man meets with in the study of Scripture, are not simply produced by his intel- lectual inferiority to another — no, nor by his moral or spiritual inferiority — but are, in a great degree, inherent in the subject examined, so that no equip- ment of learning and prayer will alto- gether secure their removal. The as- sertion of our text may be called an unqualified assertion. The proof, that there are "things hard to be under- stood," does not lie in the fact, that these things are wrested by " the un- learned and unstable :" for then, by Darity of reason, we should make St. Peter declare that all Scripture is ' hard to be understood." The asser- ion is independent on what follows, ind shows the existence of difficulties, vhether or no they gave occasion to )erversions of the Bible. And though it is of the Avritings of St. Paul, and of these alone, that the assertion is made, we may infer naturally, from the re- mainder of the passage, that the apos- tle intended to imply that difficulties are scattered through the whole of the Scriptures, so that it is a general char- acteristic of the Bible, that there are in it " some things hard to be under- stood." Now it is upon this characteristic — a characteristic, you observe, not ima- gined by ourselves, because often un- able to bring out all the force of a pas- sage, but fastened on the Scriptures by the Scriptures themselves — that we de- sire to turn your attention. We have be- fore us a feature of revelation, drawn by revelation itself, and not sketched by human surmise or discovery. And it seems to us that this feature deserves our very closest examination, and that from such examination Ave may look to derive lessons of more than ordi- nary Avorth. We take into our hands the Bible, and receive it as a commu- nication of God's Avill, made, in past ages, to his creatures. And Ave know that, occupying, as all men do, the same level of helplessness and destitu- tion, so that the adventitious circum- stances of rank and education brinor with them no differences in moral position, it cannot be the design of the Almighty, that superior talent, or superior learning, should be essential to the obtaining due acquaintance Avith revelation. There can be no fairer expectation than that the Bible will be intelligible to every capacity, and that it Avill not, either in matter or man- ner, adapt itself to one class in pre- ference to another. And Avhen, Avith all this antecedent idea that revela- tion Avill condescend to the very meanest understanding, Ave find, as it Avere on the covers of the book, the description that there are in it "things hard to be understood," we may, at first, feel something of surprise that difficulty should occur Avhere we had looked for simplicity. And undoubt- edly, however fair the expectation just mentioned, the Bible is, in some sen- ses, a harder book for the uneduci ted man than for the educated. So far as human instrumentality is concerned, the great mass of a population must be indebted to a few learned men for 128 THE DIFFICULTIES OF SCRIPTURE. any acquaintance whatsoever with the Scriptures. Never let learning be made of small account in reference to religion, when, without learning, a kingdom must remain virtually with- out a revelation. If there were no learning in a land, or if that learn- ing were not brought to bear on trans- lations of Scripture, how could one out of a thousand know any thing of the Bible 1 Those who would dispense with literature in a priesthood, under- mine a nation's great rampart against heathenism. And just as the unlearn- ed are thus, at the very outset, de- pendent altogether on the learned, it is not to be denied that the learned man will possess always a superiority over the unlearned, and that he has an apparatus at his disposal, which the other has not, for overcoming much that is diiiicult in Scripture. But after all, when St. Peter speaks of " things hard to be understood," he cannot be considered as referring to obscurities which human learning will dissipate. He certainly mentions the " unlearned " as wresting these diffi- culties, implying that the want of one kind of learning produced the perver- sion. But, of course, he intends by "unlearned" those who were not fully taught of the Spirit, and not those who were deficient in the acquire- ments of the academy. There were but few of the learned of the earth amongst the apostles and their follow- ers ; and it were absurd to imagine that all but those Avrested the Scrip- tures to their destruction. And, there- fore, whilst we frankly allow that there are difficulties in Holy Writ, for the coping with which human learning equips an individual — historical diffi- culties, for example, grammatical, chro- nological — we see, at once, that it can- not be to these St. Peter refers ; since, when he wrote, either those difficul- ties had not come into existence, or he himself was classed with the " un- learned," if by " unlearned " Avere in- tended the men unenlightened by sci- ence. We thus assure ourselves, that, in allowing "things hard to be under- stood " to find place in the volume of inspiration, God has dealt with man- kind irrespectively of the differences of rank. It cannot be human learning which makes these things compara- tively easy to be understood. They must remain hard, ay, and equally hard, whatever the literary advantages of a student j otherwise the whole statement of our text becomes unin- telligible. The " unlearned," in short, are also " the unstable :" it is not the want of earthly scholarship which makes the difficulties, it is the want of moral steadfastness which occa- sions the Vv^resting. We have no- thing, therefore, to do, in commenting on the words of St. Peter, Avith difii- culties which may be caused by a de- fective, and removed by a liberal edu- cation. The difficulties must be diffi- culties of subject. The things which are handled, and which are " hard to be understood," must, in themselves, be deep and mysterious, and not such as present intricacies which human criticism may prevail to unravel. And that there are many of these things in the Bible will be questioned by none who have given themselves to its study. It were a waste of time to ad- duce instances of the difficulties. To be unacquainted with them is to be unacquainted with Scripture ; whilst to be surprised at their existence is to be surprised at what we may call un- avoidable. It is this latter point which chiefly requires illustration, though there are others which must not be passed over in silence. We assume, therefore, as matter-of-fact, that there are in Scripture " things hard to be understood." We shall endeavor to show you, in the first place, that this fact was to be expected. We shall then, in the second place, point out the advantages which follow from the fact, and the dispositions which it should encourage. And, first, we would show yon — though this point requires but brief ex- amination — that it was to be expected, that the Bible would contain " some things hard to be understood." We should like to be told what stamp of inspiration there would be upon a Bi- ble containing nothing " hard to be un- derstood." Is it not almost a selfevi- dent proposition, that a revelation with- out difficulty could not be a revelation , of divinity 1 if there lie any thing of i that unmeasured separation, Vv'hich we are all conscious there must lie, be- THK DIFFICULTIES OF SCRIPTURE. 129 tween ourselves and the Creator, is it not clear that God cannot be compre- hensible by man ; and that, therefore, any professed revelation, which left him not incomprehensible, would be thereby its own witness to the false- hood of its pretensions'? You ask a Bi- ble which shall, in every part, be sim- ple and intelligible. But could such a Bible discourse to us of God, that Being who must remain, necessarily and for eYev, a mystery to the very highest of created intelligences'? Could such a Bible treat of purposes, which, extend- ing themselves over unlimited ages, and embracing the universe within their ranges, demand eternity for their development, and infinity for their the- atre '? Could such a Bible put forward any account of spiritual operations, seeing that, whilst confined by the trammels of matter, the soul cannot fathom herself, ^rut Avithdraws herself, as it were, and shrinks from her own scrutiny'? Could such a Bible, in short, tell us any thing of our condition, whe- ther by nature or grace 1 Could it treat of the entrance of evil ; could it treat of the Incarnation; of Regeneration; of a Resurrection ; of an Immortality'? In reference to all these matters, there are in the Bible " things hard to be understood." But it is not the manner in which they are handled which makes them "hard to be understood." The subject itself gives the difficulty. If you will not have the difficulty, you cannot have the subject. You must have a Revelation which shall say no- thing on the nature of God, for that must remain inexplicable ; nothing on the soul, for that must remain inexpli- cable ; nothing on the processes and workings of grace, for these must re- main inexplicable. You must have a Revelation, which shall not only tell you that such and such things are, but which shall also explain to you how they are: their mode, their constitu- tion, their essence. And if this were the character of Revelation, it would undoubtedly be so constructed as ne- ver to overtask reason ; but it would, just as clearly, be kept within this boundary only by being stripped of all on which we mainly need a Revelation. A Revelation in which there shall be nothing '' hard to be understood," must limit itself by the powers of reason, and, therefore, exclude those very to- pics on which, reason being insufficient, revelation is required. We wish you to be satisfied on the point, that Scriptu- ral difficulties are not the result of ob- scurity of style, of brevity of commu- nication, or of a designed abstruseness in the method of argument. The diffi- culties lie simply in the mysterious- ness of the subjects. There is no want of simplicity of language when God is described to us as always every where. But who understands this'? Can lan- guage make this intelligible '? Revela- tion assures us of the fact ; reason, with all her stridings, cannot overtake that fact. But would you, therefore, require that the omnipresence of Deity should be shut out from revelation 1 There is a perfect precision and plain- ness of speech, when the Bible dis- courses on the Word being made flesh, and on the second person in the Tri- nity humbling himself to the being " found in fashion as a man." Phil. 2 : 8. But who can grapple with this prodigy '? Is the palpable impossibility of explaining, or understanding it, at all the result of deficiency of state- ment ■? Who does not feel that the im- possibility lies in himself, and that the matter is unintelligible, because neces- sarily overpassing the sweep of his in- telligence '? He can receive the bare fact; he cannot receive the explana- tion. But shall we, on this account, and just in order to have a Bible free from ''things hard to be understood," require the Incarnation to be expunged from revelation'? We might argue in like manner with, regard to every Scriptural difficultjr. We account for the existence of these difficulties mainly by the fact that wc are men, and, because men, finite in our capacities. We suppose not that it would have been possible, by any power of description or process of ex- planation, to have made those things which are now hard, easier to be un- derstood, unless the human faculties had been amplified and strengthened, so that men had been carried up to a higher rank of being. We can quite believe that to an angel, endowed with a nobler equipment of intellectual en- ergy, and unincumbered with a frame- work of matter, there would be a far clearer idea conveyed by the revela- 17 130 THE DIFFICULTIES OF SCFJPTURE. tion, that " there are three that bear record in heaven, and these three are one," 1 John, 5 : 7, than is conveyed by such announcement to ourselves. But it does not, therefore, follow that the doctrine of the Trinity might have been made as comprehensible by us as by angels. Let there be only the same fcmount of revelation, and the angel may know more than the man, because gifted with a keener and more vigor- ous understanding. And it is evident, therefore, that few things could have less warranty than the supposition, that revelation might have been so enlarged, that the knowledge of man would have reached to the measure of the knowledge of angels. We again say that there is no deficiency of re- velation, and that the difficulties which occur in the perusal of Scripture result from the majesty of the introduced subjects, and the weakness of the fa* culties turned on their study. It is lit- tle short of a contradiction in terms, to speak of a revelation free altogether from '' things hard to be understood." And we are well persuaded, that, how- ever disposed men may be to make the difficulties an objection to the Bible, the absence of those difficulties would have been eagerly seized on as a proof of imposture. There would have been fairness in the objection — and scepti- cism would not have been slow in tri- umphantly urging it — that a book, which brought down the infinite to the level of the finite, must contain false representations, and deserve, therefore, to be placed under the outlawry of the world. We should have had reason tak- ing up an opposite position, but one far more tenable than she occupies when airguing from the difficulty, against the 4ivinity, of Scripture. Reason has sa- gacity enough, if you remove the bias »)f the " evil heart of unbelief," Heb. 3 : 12, to perceive the impossibility that God should be searched out and com- prehended by man. And if, therefore, reason sat in judgment on a professed revelation of the Almighty, and found that it gave no account of the Deity, but one, in every respect, easy and in- telligible, so that God described himself as removed not, either in essence or properties, from the ken of humanity, it can scarcely be questioned that she would give down as her verdict, and that justice would loudly applaud the de- cision, that the alleged communication from heaven wanted the signs the most elementary of so illustrious an origin. It can only be viewed as a necessary consequence on the grandeur of the subjects which form the matter of re- velation, that, with every endeavor at simplicity of style and aptitude of illus- tration, the document contains state- ments Avhich overmatch all but the faith of mankind. And, therefore, we are bold to say that we glory in the difficulties of Scripture. We can in- deed desire, as well as those who would turn these difficulties into occasion of cavil and objection, to understand, with a thorough accuracy, the registered truths, and to penetrate and explore those solemn mysteries which crowd the pages of inspiration. We can feel, whilst the volume of Holy Writ lies open before us, and facts are presented which seem every way infinite — height, and breadth, and depth, and length, all defying the boldest journeyings of the spirit — we can feel the quick pulse of an eager wish to scale the mountain, or fathom the abyss. But, at the same time, we know, and we feel, that a Bible without difficulties were a firmament without stars. We know, and we feel, that a far-ofl' land, enamelled, as we believe it, with a loveliness which is not of this earth, and inhabited by a tenantry gloriously distinct from our own order of being, would not be the magnificent and richly-peopled do- main which it is, if its descriptions overpassed not the outlines of human geography. We know, and we feel, that the Creator of all things, he who stretched out the heavens, and sprink- led them with worlds, could not be, what we are assured that He is, inac- cessibly sublime and awfully great, if there could be given us a portrait of his nature and properties, whose every feature might be sketched by a hu- man pencil, whose every characteristic scanned by a human vision. We know, and we feel, that the vast business of our redemption, arranged in the coun- cils of the far-back eternity, and acted out amid the wondering and throbbings of the universe, could not have been that stupendous transaction which gave God glory by giving sinners safety, if the inspired account brought its dimen- THE DIFFICULTIES OF SCRIPTURE. 131 sions within the compass of a human arithmetic, or defined its issues by the lines of a human demarcation. And, therefore, do we also know and feel that it is a witness to the inspiration of the Bible, that, when this Bible would furnish us with notices of the unseen world hereafter to be traversed, or when it would turn thought on the Omnipotent, or when it would open up the scheme of the restoration of the fallen; then, Avith much that is beauti- fully simple, and which the wayfaring man can read and understand, there are mingled dark intimations, and preg- nant hints, and undeveloped statements, before which the weak and the master- ful must alike do the homage of a reve- rent and uncalculating submission. We could not rise up from the perusal of Scripture with a deep conviction that it is the word of the living God, if we had found no occasions on which rea- son was required to humble herself be- fore giant-like truth, and implicit faith has been the only act which came with- in our range of moral achievement. We do not indeed say — for the saying would carry absurdity on its forefront — that we believe a document in- spired, because, in part, incomprehen- sible. But if a document profess to be inspired ; and if it treat of subjects which we can prove beforehand to be above and beyond the stretchings of our intellect; then, we do say that the find- ing nothing in such a document to baf- fle the understanding would be a proof the most conclusive, that what alleges itself divine deserves rejection as a for- gery. And whilst, therefore, we see going forward on all sides the accumu- lation of the evidences of Christianity, and history and science are bringing their stores and emptying them at the feet of our religion, and the very wrath of the adversary, being the accomplish- ment of prophecy, is proving that we follow no " cunningly devised fables ;" 2 Pet. 1:16; we feel that it Avas so much to be expected, yea, rather that it was altogether so unavoidable, that a revelation Avould, in many parts, be ob- scure, that Ave take as the last link in the chain of a lengthened and irrefraga- ble demonstration, that there are in the Bible '^ things hard to be understood." But Ave trench on the second division of our subject, and Avill proceed, there- fore, to the more distinct exposition of the advantages Avhich follow, and the dispositions Avhich should be encour- aged by, the fact Avhich has passed un- der revieAv. We see, at once, from the statement of St. Peter, that effects, to all appearance disastrous, are produced by the difficulties of Scripture. The " unlearned and unstable " Avrest these difficulties to " their own destruction ;" and, therefore, though Ave have proved these difficulties unavoidable, by Avhat process of reasoning can they be prov- ed advantageous % Now, if Ave have carried you along AAnth us through our foregoing argument, you are already furnished Avith one answer to this in- quir3^ We have shown you that the absence of difficulties AA^ould go far to- AA'ards proving the Scriptures uninspir- ed ; and Ave need not remark that there must be a use for difficulties, if essen- tial to the complete Avitness for the truth of Christianity. But there are other advantages AA'hich must, on no account, be overlooked. We only Avish it premised, that, though the difficulties of Scripture — as, for example, those parts Avhich involve predestination — are Avrested by many " to their OAvn de- struction," the " unlearned and unsta- ble " Avould have equally perished, had no difficulties AA'hatsoever existed. As the case indeed now stands, the " things hard to be understood " are the stum- bling-blocks over AA'^hich they fall, and, falling, are destroyed. But they Avould have stumbled on the plain ground as Avell as on the rough : there being no more certain truth in theology, than that the cause of stumbling is the in- ternal feebleness, and not the external impediment. A man may perish, osten- sibly through abuse of the doctrine of election. He may say, I am elect, and, therefore, shall be saved, though I con- tinue in sin. Thus he wrests election, and that too to his own certain de- struction. But Avould he not have per- ished had he found no such doctrine to Avrestl Ay, that he Avould ; as fatally, and as finally. It is the love of sin, the determination to live in sin, Avhich de- stroys him. And though, Avhilst giving the reins to his lusts, he attempts to derive from election a quietus and ex- cuse, can you think that he Avould be at a loss to find them elsewhere, if there AA'cre no doctrine of election 132 THE DIFFICULTIES OF SCRIPTURE. from which, when abused, they may be wrenched and extorted] It is pos- sible that a man may slay himself with " the sword of the Spirit ;" Ephesians, 6 : 17 ; but only because he is so bent upon suicide, that, had he not found so costly a weapon, he would have fallen on a ruder and less polished. Satan has every kind of instrument in his armory, and leaves no one at a loss for a me- thod of self-destruction. So that, had it not been unavoidable that " things hard to be understood " should find place in the Bible, their insertion, though apparently causing the ruin of many, would in no degree have im- peached the loving-kindness of the Al- mighty. Scriptural difficulties destroy none who would not have been destroy- ed had no difficulties existed. And, therefore, difficulties might be permit- ted for certain ends which they, un- doubtedly, subserve, and yet not a solitary individual be injured by an al- lowance which is to benefit the great body of the church. We wish this conclusion borne carefully in mind, because the first impression, on read ing our text, is, that some are destroy- ed by the " things hard to be under- stood," and that they would not have been destroyed without these things to wrest. This first impression is a Avrong one ; the hard things giving the occasion, but never being the cause of destruction. The unstable wrest what is difficult. But, rather than be Avithout something to pervert, if there were not the difficult, they would wrest the simple. This being premised, we'may enlarge, without fear, on the advantages result- ing from the fact, that Scripture con- tains " some things hard to be under- stood." And first, if there were nothing in Scripture which overpowered our reason, who sees not that intellectual pride would be fostered by its study 1 The grand moral discipline which the Bible now exerts, and which renders its perusal the best exercise to which men can be subjected, lies simply in its perpetual requisition that Reason submit^herself to Revelation. You can make no way with the disclosures of Holy Writ, until prepared to receive, on the authority of God, a vast deal which, of yourself, you cannot prove, and still more, which you cannot ex- plain. And it is a fine schooling for the student, when, at every step in his re- search, he finds himself thrown on his faith, required to admit truth because the Almighty hath spoken it, and not because he himself can demonstrate. It is just the most rigorous and whole- some tuition under Avhich the human mind can be brought,' when it is con- tinually called off from its favorite pro- cesses of argument and commentary, and summoned into the position of a meek recipient of intelligence to be taken without questioning-— honored with belief when it cannot be cleared by exposition. And of all this school- ing and tuition you would instantly deprive us, if you took away from the Bible "things hard to be understood." Nay, it were comparatively little that we should lose the discipline : we should live under a counter system, encouraging what we arc bound to repress. If man were at all left to en- tertain the idea that he can compre- hend God, or measure his purposes — and such idea might be lawful, were there no mysteries in Scripture — we know no bounds which could be set to his intellectual haughtiness : for if rea- son seemed able to embrace Deity, who could persuade her that she is scant and contracted 1 I might almost be pardoned the fostering a consciousness of mental greatness, and the supposing myself endowed with a vast nobility of spirit, if I found that I kept pace with all the wonders which God brought out from his own nature and his own dwell- ing, and if no disclosures were made to this creation too dazzling for my scrutiny, or too deep for my penetra- tion. A Bible without difficulties would be a censer full of incense to man's reason. It would be the greatest flat- terer of reason, passing on it a compli- ment and eulogy which would infinitely outdo the most far-fetched of human panegyrics. And if the fallen require to be kept humble j if we can advance in spiritual attainment only in propor- tion as we feel our insignificance ; would not this conversion of the Bible into the very nurse and encourager of intellectual pride, abstract its best worth from revelation ; and who, there- fore, will deny that we are advantaged by the fact, that there are in Scripture " things hard to be understood!" THE DIFFICULTIES OF SCRIPTURE. 133 We remark again, that though con- troversy have its evils, it has also its uses. We never infer, that, because there is no controversy in a church, there must be the upholding of sound doctrine. It is not the stagnant water which is generally the purest. And if there are no differences of opinion which set men on examining and as- certaining their own belief, the proba- bility is, that, like the Samaritans of old, they will worship they " know not what." John, 4 : 22. Heresy itself is, in one sense, singularly beneficial. It helps to sift a professing community, and to separate the chaff from the wheat. And whilst the unstable are carried about by the winds of false doctrine, those who keep their stead- fastness find, as it were, their moral at- mosphere cleared by the tempest. We consider this statement to be that of St. Paul, when he says to the Corinthi- ans, '' There must be also heresies amongst you, that they which are ap- proved may be made manifest." 1 Cor. 11 : 19. And it is not the mere separa- tion of the genuine from the fictitious Avhich is effected through the publica- tion of error. We hold that heresies have been of vast service to the Church, in that they have caused truth to be more thoroughly scanned, and all its bearings and boundaries explored with a most pains-taking industry. It is as- tonishing how apt men are to rest in general aird ill-defined notions, so that, when interrogated and probed on an article of faith, they show themselves unable to give account of their belief. When a new error is propounded, you will find that candid men will confess, that, on examining their own views on the litigated point, they have found them in many respects vague and in coherent ; so that, until driven to the work of expounding and defining, they have never suspected their ignorance upon matters with which they profess- ed themselves altogether familiar. We think that few men would have correct notions of truth, unless occasionally compelled to investigate their own opinions. They take for granted that they understand what they believe. But when heresy or controversy arises, and they are required to state what they hold, they will themselves be surprised at the confusion of their sentiments. We are persuaded, for example, that, however mischievous in many respects may have been the modern agitation of the question of Christ's humanity, the great body of christians have been thereby advantaged. Until the debate was raised, hundreds and thousands were unconsciously holding error. Be- ing never required to define the true doctrine of the Savior's person, they never doubted that they knew and un- derstood it, though, all the while, they either confounded the natures, or mul- tiplied ihe person ; or — and this was the ordinary case — formed no idea at all on so mysterious, yet fundamental a matter. Thus controversy stirs the waters, and prevents their growing stagnant. We do not indeed under- stand from the " must be " of St. Paul, that the well-being of the church is de- pendent on heresy, so that, unless here- sy enter, the church cannot prosper. But we can readily suppose that God, foreknowing the corruptions which would be attempted of the Gospel, de- termined to employ these corruptions as instruments for speeding onward the growth in grace of his people. The " must be" refers to human depravity and Satanic influence. It indicates a necessity for which the creature alone is answerable, whilst the end, Avhich heresies subserve, is that which most engages the interferences of the Crea- tor. Thus we speak of evil as benefi- cial, only as overruled by the Almighty, and pronounce controversy advantage- ous, because a corrupt nature needs frequent agitation. If never called to defend the truth, the church would comparatively lose sight of what truth is. And therefore, however the absence of controversy may agree well with a millennial estate, we are amongst the last who would desire that it should not now be heard in the land. We feel that if now " the wolf should dwell Avith the lamb, and the leopard lie down with the kid," Isa. 11:6, we should have nothing but the millennium of liberal- ism : the lamb being nothing more than the wolf in disguise, and the kid the leopard with his spots slightly colored. Such is the constitution of man — and such it will be, till there pass over this globe a mighty regeneration — that, un- less there be opposition, we shall have no purity. Dissent itself, with its manifold 134 THE DIFFICULTIES OF SCRIPTURE. and multiform evils, has done the church service ; and, by rousing energies which might otherwise have lain dormant, has given fixedness where it thought to un- dermine. But if there were no scriptu- ral difficulties, we could have no con- troversy. The '' things hard to be un- derstood" form the groundwork of dif- ferences of opinion : and, if these were swept away, there would either be space for only one theory, or, if an- other were broached, it Avould be too absurd for debate. So that scriptural difficulties are literally the preserva- tives of sound doctrine. The church would slumber into ignorance of even simple and elementary truth, if there were no hard things, which, wrested by the unstable, keep her always on the alert. And if, therefore, the upholding, through successive generations, of a clear and orthodox creed, be a result which you hail as teeming with advan- tage, have we not a right to press home on you the fact, that it is advantageous to mankind that there are in the Bible " some things hard to be understood!" We might extend on all sides our view of the advantages of difficulties. But we are confined by the limits of a discourse, and shall only adduce one other illustration. When I read the Bi- ble, and meet with passages which, after the most patient exercises of thought and research, remain dark and impene- trable, then, in the most especial de- gree, I feel myself immortal. The find- ing a thing 'Maard to be understood" ministers to my consciousness that I am no perishable creature, destined to a finite existence, but a child of eter- nity, appointed to survive the dissolu- tions of matter, and to enter on another and an untried being. If the Bible be God's revelation of himself to mankind, it is a most fair expectation, that, at one time or another, the whole of this re- velation will be clear and accessible; that the obscure points, which we can- not now elucidate, and the lofty points, which we cannot now scale, will be en- lightened by the flashings of a brighter luminary, and given up to the march- ings of a more vigorous inquiry. We can never think that God would tell man things for the understanding of which he is to be always incapacitated. If he know them not now, the very fact of their being told is sufficient proof that he shall know them hereafter. And, therefore, in every scriptural difficulty I read the pledge of a mighty enlarge- ment of the human faculties. In every mystery, though a darkness thick as the Egyptian may now seem to shroud it, I can find one bright and burning spot, glowing with promise that there shall yet come a day, when, every pow- er of the soul being wrought into a ce- lestial strength, I shall be privileged, as it were, to stretch out the hand of the lav/giver and roll back the clouds which here envelope the truth. I can muse upon one of those things which are "hard to be understood," till it seem to put on the prophet's mantle, and preach to me of futurity; telling me, in accents more spirit-stirring than those of the boldest of mortal oratory, that the present is but the infancy of my being ; and that, in a nobler and more glorious estate, I shall start from moral and mental dwarfishness, and, endowed with vigor of perception, and keenness of vision, and vastness of apprehension, walk the labyrinth, and pierce the rock, and weigh the moun- tain. Oh, I can thank God that, amongst those countless mercies which he has poured down on our pathway, he hath given us a Bible which is not in every part to be explained. The difficulties of Roly Writ — let them be made by ob- jectors the subjects of marvel, or of cavil — they constitute one great sheet of our charter of immortality : and, in place of wondering that God should have permitted them, or lamenting that they cannot be overcome, I rejoice in them as earnests, given me by Him " who cannot lie," Titus, 1 : 2, that man hath yet to advance to a sublime rank amongst orders of intelligence, and to stand, in the maturity of his strength, in the very centre of the panorama of truth. And if it be true that every mystery in Scripture, as giving pledge of an enlargement of capacities, wit- nesses to the glories with which the fu- ture comes charged ; and if from every intricate passage, and every dark say- ing, and every unfathomable statement, we draw new proof of the magnificence of our destinies ; which of you will withhold his confession, that the diffi- culties of the Bible are productive of benefit, and that, consequently, there result advantages from the fact, that THE DIFFICULTIES OF SCRIPTURE. r35 there are in Scripture " some things hard to be understood 1" Such are certain of the advantages which we proposed to investigate. It yet remains that we briefly state, and call upon you to cultivate, the disposi- tions which should be brought to the study of a Bible thus " hard to be un- derstood." We have shown you that there are difficulties in Scripture which must remain unexplained whilst w^e continue in the flesh. Other difficul- ties indeed may be removed by thought, and prayer, and research ; and we would not have you sparing of any of these appliances when you examine the volume of inspiration. But difficulties which are inherent in the subject; things "hard to be understood" be- cause they deal, for example, with the nature, and purposes, and workings of Deity ; these are not to be mastered by any powers of reason, and are, therefore, matters for the exercise of faith rather than of intellect. We ought to know, before we open the Bible, that it must present difficulties of this class and description. We are therefore bound, if, in idolizing reason, we should not degrade and decry it, to sit down to the study of Scripture with a meek and chastened understanding, expect- ing to be baffled, and ready to submit. We tell the young amongst you more especially, Avho, in the pride of an un- disciplined intellect, would turn to St. Paul as they turn to Bacon or Locke, arguing that what was written for man must be comprehensible by man — we tell them that nothing is excellent out of its place ; and that, in the examina- tion of Scripture, then only does rea- son show herself noble, when, conscious of the presence of a king, the knee is bent, and the head uncovered. We would have it, therefore, remembered, that the docility and submissiveness of a child alone Ijefit the student of the Bible ; and that, if we would not have the whole volume darkened, its sim- plest truths eluding the grasp of our understanding, or gaining, at least, no liold on our affections, we must laj?- aside the feelings which we carry into the domains of science and philosophy, not arming ourselves with a chivalrous resolve to conquer, but with one which it is a thousand-fold harder either to form or execute, to yield. The Holy Spirit alone can make us feel the things which are easy to be understood, and prevent our wresting those which are hard. Never then should the Bible be opened except with prayer for the teachings of this Spirit. You will read without profit, as long as you read without prayer. It is only in the degree that the Spirit, which in- dited a text, takes it from the page and breathes it into the heart, that Ave can comprehend its meaning, be touched by its beauty, stirred by its remon- strance, or animated by its promise. We shall never, then, master scriptu- ral difficulties by the methods Avhich prove successful in grappling with phi- losophical. Why is it that the poor peasant, whose understanding is Aveak and undisciplined, has clear insight in- to the meaning of verses, and finds in them irresistible poAver and inexhausti- ble comfort, Avhilst the very same pas- sages are given up as mysteries, or overlooked as unimportant, by the high and lettered champion of a scholastic theology ! ItAvere idle to deny that our rustic divines Avill oftentimes travel, Avith a far stancher and more dominant step than our collegiate, into the depths of a scriptural statement; and that you might obtain from some of the patri- archs of our valleys, Avhose chief in- struction has been their OAvn commun- ing with the Almighty, such explana- tions of " things hard to be under- stood " as Avould put to shame the com- mentaries of our most learned exposi- tors. And of this phenomenon the solu- tion Avould be hopeless, if there were not a broad instituted difference be- tween human and sacred literature : " the kingdom of heaven" being " like unto treasure hid in a field;" Matt. 13 : 44 ; and the finding this treasure depending not at all on the power of the intellect brought to the search, but on the heartiness and the earnestness with which the Psalmist's prayer is used, " open thou mine ej'cs, that I may behold Avondrous things out of thy laAV." Psalm 119 : IS. If you open u scientific book, or study an abstruse and metaphysical work, let reason gird herself boldly for the task: the pro- vince belongs fairly to her jurisdic- tion ; and she may cling to her own ener- gies without laying herself open to the charge, that, according to the charac- 136 THE DIFFICULTIES OF SCRIPTURE. teristic which Joel gives of the last times, the weak is vaunting itself the strong. Joel, 3 : 10. But if you open the Bible, and sit down to the investi- gation of scriptural truth, you are in a district which lies far beyond the just limits of the empire of reason : there is need of an apparatus wholly distinct from that which sufficed for your form- er inquiry : and if you think to compre- hend revelation, except so far as the author shall act as interpreter, you are, most emphatically, the weak pronounc- ing yourselves the strong, and the Bi- ble shall be to you a closed book, and you shall break not the seals which God himself hath placed on the volume. Oh, they are seals which melt away like a snow-wreath, before the breath- ings of the Spirit; but not all the fire of human genius shall ever prevail to dissolve or loosen them. We feel that we have a difficult part to perform in ministering to the con- gregation which assembles within these walls. Gathered as it is from many parts, and, without question, including oftentimes numbers who make no pro- fession whatsoever of religion, we think it bound on us to seek out great variety of subjects, so that, if possible, the case of none of the audience may be quite overlooked in a series of discourses. And we feel it peculiarly needful that we touch now and then, as we have done this night, on topics connected Avith infidelity, because we fear that in- fidelity is growing in the land, and spe- cially amongst its well-educated youth. If there be one saying in the Bible, bear- ing reference to the things of the pre- sent dispensation, on which we look with greater awe than on another, it is this of Christ Jesus, " when the Son of Man cometh, shall he find faith on the earth V Luke, 18 : 8. It would seem to mark out a fierce conflict of antagonist princi- pled, issuing in the almost total eject- ment of Christianity ; so that, when the day of the second advent is ushered in by its august heraldry, it shall dawn upon blasted and blackened scenery, and discover the mass of mankind car- ryin'T on, amid demolished temples and desecrated Bibles, the orgies of a dark and desperate revelry. And knowing that such is the tenor of prophecy, and gathering from many and infallible signs that already has the war-tug begun, we | warn you, and beseech you, with all the veins of our heart, that ye be on your guard against the inroads of scepticism. We speak peculiarly to the young, the young men who throng this chapel, and who, in the intercourses of life, will meet with many who lie in wait to deceive. It is not possible that you should mix much with the men of this liberal and libertine age, and not hear insinuations, either more or less direct, thrown out against the grand and sav- ing tenets of Christianity. You cannot, even by the exercise of the most godly circumspection, keep yourselves wholly at a distance from the sarcasms or so- phisms of insidious and pestilent teach- ers. The enemy is ever on the watch ; and, adapting himself to the various dispositions and circumstances of those whom he seeks to entangle, can ad- dress the illiterate with a hollow jest, and assail the educated with a well- turned objection. Oh, I could tremble for those, who, blind to the weakness which is naturally the portion of our race, and rashly confident in a strength to which the fallen have no jot of pretension, adventure themselves now upon the sea of life, and go forth into a world where must often be en- countered temptations to think light- ly of the faith of their fathers. Oh, I say, I could tremble for them. If any amongst you — I speak it with all afl^ection, and from the knov/ledge which positions in life have enabled me to form of the progress of youthful infidelity — if any amongst you enter the busy scenes of society, with an overweening confidence in your own capacities, with the lofty opinion of the powers of reason, and with a hardy persuasion that there is nerve enough in the mind to grapple with divine mysteries, and vigor enough to discover truth for itself — if, in short, you, the weak, shall say we are strong — then I fear for you, far more than I can tell, that you may fall an easy prey to some champion of heretical error, and give ready ear to the flat- tering schemes of the worshippers of intellect ; and that thus a mortal blight shall desecrate the buds of early pro- mise, and eternity frown on you with all the cheerlessness which it wears to those who despise the blood of atone- ment, and you — the children, it may THE DIFFICULTIES OF SCFaFTURE. 13Y be, of pious parents, over whose in- fancy a godly father hath watched, and whose young years have been guarded by the tender solicitudes of a riohteous mother — you may win to yourselves a heritage of shame and confusion, and go down, at the judg- ment, into the pit of the unbelieving and scornful. Better, infinitely better would it have been, that your parents had seen you coffined and sepulchred, ere as yet ye knew evil from good, than that they should have nursed you, and nurtured you, to swell, in latter days, the ranks of the apostate. Be admonished, by the subject which we have this night discussed, to distrust yourselves, and to depend on a higher teaching than human. Difficulties there are in the Bible : but they ought rather to assure, than make you doubtful of, the divinity of its origin. And if you are assailed with sceptical objections which you are unable to answer, have the candor and modesty to suspect that a straight-forward and sutTicient answer there may be, though you have not the penetration to discover it. Lay not the blame on the deficiencies of Christianity, when it may possibly lie in the deficiencies of your own in- formation. The argument was never framed against the truth of our reli- gion, which has not been completely taken off, and triumphantly refuted. Hesitate, therefore, before you con- clude a sceptic in the right, just be- cause you are not able to prove him in the wrong. We give you this advice, simply and affectionately. We see your danger, and we long for your souls. Bear with us yet a moment. We would not weary you : but speak- ing on the topic of " things hard to be understood," we feel compelled to dwell, at some length, on the scepti- cism of the age. I can never dare answer, when 1 stand up in this holjr place, and speak to you on the truths of our religion, that 1 address not some who throw on these truths habitual contempt, who count Christianity the plaything of children, invented by im- posture, and cradled in ignorance. And if I knew that even now there were such amongst you ; if they were pointed out to me, so that 1 might stand face to face with the despisers of our Lord — the thunder, the sack- cloth of hair, the worm that dies not, the fire that is not quenched — should I array against them these terrible things, and turn upon them the bat- tery of the denunciations of God's wrath ? Alas, alas, I should have no moral hold on them with all this ap- paratus of wo and destruction. Ihey might wrap themselves up in their scepticism. They might tell me they had read too much, and learned too much, to be scared by the trickeries of priestcraft : and thus, by denying the authority of Scripture, they would virtually blunt all my weapons of at- tack, and show themselves invulner- able, because they had made them- selves insensible. There is nothing that the minister could do, save that which Elisha the prophet did, when speaking with Hazael : " he settled his countenance steadfastly, until he was ashamed : and the man of God wept." 2 Kings, 8 : 10. AVho could do otherwise than weep over the spec- tacle of talents, and hopes, and affec- tions, tainted with the leprous spots of moral decay, the spectacle of a blighted immortality, the spectacle — a glimpse of which must almost con- vulse with amazement the glorious ranks of the celestial world — that of a being whom Christ purchased with his blood, whom the Almighty hath in- vited, yea besought, to have mercy upon himself, turning into jest the messages of the Gospel, denying the divinity of the Lord his Redeemer, or building up, with the shreds and frag- ments of human reason, a baseless structure, which, like the palace of ice, shall resolve itself suddenly into a tu- multuous flood, bearing away the in- habitant, a struggling thing, but a lostl Yea, if I knew there were one amongst you who had surrendered himself to the lies of an ensnaring philosophy, then, although I should feel, that, per- haps even whilst I speak, he is pitying my credulity, or ridiculing my fanati- cism, I would not suffer him to de- part without calling on the congrega- tion to baptize him, as it were, with their tears; and he should be singled out — oh, not for rebuke, not for con- tempt, not for anger — but as more de- serving to be wept over and wailed over than the poorest child of human ca- lamity, more worthy of the agonies of 18 138 THE DIFFICULTIES OF SCRIPTURE. mortal sympathy than he who eats the bitterest bread of affliction, and in whose ear ring mournfully the sleep- less echoes of a funeral bell. Yea, and he should not leave the sanctuary till we had told him, that, though there be in the Bible " things hard to be under- stood," there is one thing beautifully plain, and touchingly simple : and that is, that " the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin." 1 John, 1 : 7. So that it is not yet too late : the blasphemer, the scorner, the infidel — oh, the fire is not yet falling, and the earth is not yet opening — let him turn unto the Lord, and confess his iniqui- ty, and cry for pardon, and a sweep of joy from the angels' harp-strings shall tell out the astounding fact, that he is no longer a stranger and foreigner, but a fellow-citizen with the saints, and of the household of God. But we hasten to a conclusion. We again press upon all of you the impor- tance of reading the Bible with prayer. And whilst the consciousness that Scripture contains " things hard to be understood" should bring us to its stu- dy in a dependent and humble temper, the thought, that what we know not now we shall know hereafter, should make each difficulty, as we leave it un- vanquished, minister to our assurance that a wider sphere of being, a nearer vision, and mightier faculties, await us when the second advent of the Lord winds up the dispensation. Thus should the mysteries of the Bible teach us, at one and the same time, our nothing- ness, and our greatness j producing hu- mility, and animating hope. I bow be- fore these mysteries. I knew that I should find, and I pretend not to re- move, them. But whilst I thus pros- trate myself, it is with deep gladness and exultation of spirit. God would not have hinted the mystery, had he not designed hereafter to explain. And, therefore, are my thoughts on a far-off home, and rich things are around me, and the voices of many harpers, and the shinings of bright constellations, and the clusters of the cherub and the ser- aph ; and a whisper, which seems not of this earth, is circulating through the soul, " Now we see through a glass darkly, but then face to face ; now I know in part, but then shall I know even as also I am known." 1 Cor. 13 : 12. May God grant unto all of us to be both abased and quickened by those things in the Bible which are " hard to be understood." SERMONS PREACHED BEFORE THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE. February, 1836. The Author begs to state that he prints these Sermons in compliance with the wish of many Members of the University. Immediately after their delivery he received an address from the resi- dent Bachelors and Undergraduates, headed by the most distinguished names, and numerously signed, requesting their publication. The same request was also made from other quarters. Under these circumstances the Author felt that he had nothing to do, but to regret that the Sermons were not more deserving of the interest thus kindly manifested, and to commit them at once to the pre»«, CiMBERWELL, March 10, 1836. SERMON I. THE GREATNESS AND CONDESCENSION OF GOD. *' Thy kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and thy dominion endureth throughout all generations. The Lord upholdeth all that fall, and lifteth up all those that be bowed down." — Psalm 145 : 13, 14. What we admire in these verses, is their combining the magnificence of unlimited power with the assiduity of unlimited tenderness. It is this com- bination which men are apt to regard as well-nigh incredible, supposing that a Being so great as God can never con- cern himself with beings so inconsid- erable as themselves. Tell them that God lifteth up those that be bowed down, and they cannot imagine that his kingdom and dominion are unbounded ; — or tell them, on the other hand, of the greatness of his empire, and they think it impossible that he should up- hold all that fall. If you represent Dei- ty as busied with Avhat they reckon in- significant, the rapid impression is, that he cannot, at the same time, be equally attentive to what is vast ; and if you exhibit him as occupied with what is vast, there is a sudden misgiving that the insignificant must escape his obser- vation. And it is of great importance, that men be taught to view in God that combination of properties which is af- firmed in our text. It is certain that the greatness of God is often turned into an argument, by which men would bring doubt on the truths of Redemp- tion and Providence. The unmeasured inferiority of man to his Maker is used in proof, that so costly a work as that of Redemption can never have been executed on our behalf; and that so unwearied a watchfulness as that of Providence can never be engaged in our service. Whereas, no reason what- ever can be derived from our confessed insignificance, against our being the objects whether of Redemption or of Providence — seeing it is equally cha- racteristic of Deity, to attend to the inconsiderable and to the great, to ex- tend hisdominion throughout all gene- rations, and to lift up those that be bowed down. It is on this truth we would employ uo THE GREATNESS AND CONDESCENSION OF GOD. our present discourse, endeavoring to prove, that human insignificance, as set in contrast with divine greatness, fur- nishes no argument against the doc- trine of our Redemption, and none against that of an universal Providence. Now a man will consider the hea- vens, the work of God's fingers, the moon and the stars which he hath or- dained, and he vrill perceive that the earth on which we dwell is but the soli- tary unit of an innumerable multitude. It appears to him as though, if this globe were suddenly annihilated, it would scarcely be missed from the fir- mament, and leave no felt vacancy in the still crowded fields of the heavens. And if our earth be thus so insignifi- cant an unit that its abstraction would not disturb the splendors and harmo- nies of the universe, how shall we think that God hath done so wondrous a thing for its inhabitants as to send his own Son to die in their stead 1 Thus an ar- gument is attempted to be drawn from the insignificance of man to the im- probability of Redemption ; one verse of our text is set against the other ; and the confessed fact, that God's do- minion is throughout all generations, is opposed to the alleged fact, that he gave his own Son that he might lift up the fallen. But it ought at least to be remem- bered that man was God's workman- ship, made after his image, and endow- ed with powers which fitted him for lofty pursuits. The human race may or may not be insignificant. We know nothing of the orders of intelligence which stretch upwards betvi^een our- selves and God ; and we are therefore incompetent to decide what place we occupy in the scale of creation. But at the least we know, independently of Revelation, that a magnificent scene was appointed for our dwelling ; and that, when God reared a home for man, he built it of the sublime and the beautiful, and lavished alike his might and his skill on the furniture of its chambers. No one can survey the works of nature, and not perceive that God has some regard foi* the children of men, however fallen and polluted they may be. And if God manifest a regard for us in temporal things, it must be far from incredible that he would do the same ia spiritual. There can be nothing fairer than the expect- ation, that he would provide for our well-being as moral and accountable creatures, with a care at least equal to that exhibited towards us in our natu- ral capacity. So that it is perfectly cre- dible that God would do something on behalf of the fallen ; and then the ques- tion is, whether any thing less than Redemption through Christ would be of worth and of efficacy '? It is cer- tain that we cannot conceive any pos- sible mode, except the revealed mode through the sacrifice of Christ, in which God could be both just and the justifier of sinners. Reckon and reason as we will, we can sketch out no plan by which transgressors might be saved, the divine attributes honored, and yet Christ not have died. So far as we have the power of ascertaining, man must have remained unredeemed, had he not been redeemed through the In- carnation and Crucifixion. And if it be credible that God would effectively in- terpose on man's behalf ; and if the only discoverable method in which he could thus interpose, be that of Re- demption through the sacrifice of his Son ; what becomes of the alleged in- credibility, founded on the greatness of God as contrasted with the insigni- ficance of man 1 We do not depreciate the wonders of the interference. We will go all lengths in proclaiming it a prodigy which confounds the most masterful, and in pronouncing it a mys- tery whose depths not even angels can fathom, that, for the sake of be- ings inconsiderable as ourselves, there should have been acted out an arrange- ment which brought Godhead into flesh, and gave up the Creator to igno- miny and death. But the greatness of the wonder furnishes no just ground for its disbelief. There can be no weight in the reasoning, that because man is so low and God so high, no such v.'ork can have been wrought as the Redemption of our race. We are certain that we are cared for in our temporal capacity ; and we conclude, therefore, that we cannot have been neglected in our eternal. And then — finding that, unless redeemed through the sacrifice of Christ, there is no sup- posable method of human deliverance — it is not the brightness of the moon as she travels in her lustre, and it is THE GREATKESS AND CONDESCENSION OF GOD. 141 not the array of stars which are mar- j shalled on the firmament, that shall make us deem it incredible that God would give his Son for our rescue : rather, since moon and stars light up man's home, they shall do nothing but assure us of the Creator's loving-kind- ness ; and thus render it a thing to be believed — though still amazing, still stupendous — that He whose kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and whose dominion endureth throughout all gen- erations, should have made himself to be sin for us, that He might uphold all that fall, and lift up all those that be bowed down. But it is in regard to the doctrine of an universal Providence that men are most ready to raise objections, from the greatness of God as contrasted with their own insignificance. They cannot believe, that he who is so migh- ty as to rule the heavenly hosts can ■ condescend to notice the wants of the meanest of his creatures ; and thus they deny to him the combination of pro- perties asserted in our text, that, whilst possessed of unlimited empire, he sus- tains the feeble and raises the prostrate. We shall not stay to expose the falseness of an opinion which has sometimes found advocates, that, hav- ing created this world, God left it to itself, and bestows no thought on its concerns. But whilst few would hold the opinion in the extent thus announ- ced, many would limit the divine Pro- vidence, and thus take from the doc- trine its great beauty and comfort. It is easy and common to represent it as incompatible with the confessed gran- deur of our Maker, that he should busy himself with the concerns of the poor- est of his creatures: but such reason- ing betrays ignorance as to what it is in which greatness consists. It may be that, amongst finite beings, it is not easy, and perhaps not possible, that attention to what is minute, or compa- ratively unimportant, should be com- bined with attention to things of vast moment. But we never reckon it an excellence that there is not, or cannot be, this union. On the contrary, we should declare that man at the very summit of true greatness, who proved himself able to unite what had seemed incompatible. If a man, for example, be a great statesman, and the management of a vast empire be delivered into his hands, we can scarcely expect that, amid the multiplicity of mighty affairs which solicit his attention, he should find time for the duties of more ordi- nary life. We feel that, engrossed with occupations of overwhelming import- ance, it is hardly possible that he should be assiduous in the instruction of his children, or the inspection of his servants, or the visiting and relieving his distressed fellow-men. But we ne- ver feel that his greatness would be diminished, if he were thus assiduous. We are ready, on the contrary, to ad- mit that we should give him, in a higher degree than ever, our respect and admiration, if we knew that, whilst he had his eye on every wheel in the machinery of government, and his comprehensive mind included all that had a bearing on the well-being of the empire, he discharged with exemplary fidelity every relative duty, and enter- ed with as much assiduousness into all that concerned his neighbors and de- pendents, as though he had not to ex- tend his carefulness over the thousand departments of a complicated system. What would be thought of that man's estimate of greatness, who should reckon it derogatory to the statesman that he thus combined attention to the inconsiderable with attention to the stupendous ; and who should count it inconsistent with the loftiness of his station, that, amid duties as arduous as faithfully discharged, he had an ear for the prattle of his children, and an eye for the interests of the friendless, and a heart for the sufferings of the desti- tute 1 Would there not be a feeling, mounting almost to veneration, to- wards the ruler who should prove him- self equal to the superintending every concern of an empire, and who could yet give a personal attention to the wants of many of the poorest of its families ; and who, whilst gathering within the compass of an ample in- telligence every question of foreign and home policy, protecting the com- merce, maintaining the honor, and fos- tering the institutions of the slate, could minister tenderly at the bedside of sickness, and hearken patiently to the tale of calamity, and be as ac- tive for the widow and the orphan, as though his whole business were to light- U2 THE GREATNESS AND CONDESCENSION OF GOD. en the pressure of domestic affliction 1 We can appeal, then, to your own notions of true greatness, for a refuta- tion of the common arguments against the Providence of God. We know not why that should be derogatory to the majesty of the Ruler of the universe, Avhich, by the general confession, would add immeasurably to the majesty of one of the earth's potentates. And if we should rise in our admiration and applause of a statesman, or sovereign, in proportion as he showed himself ca- pable of attending to things compara- tively petty and insignificant, without neglecting the grand and momentous, certainly we are bound to apply the same principle to our Maker — to own it, that is, essential to his greatness, that, whilst marshalling planets and ordering the motions of all worlds throughout the sweep of immensity, he should yet feed " the young ravens that call upon him," and number the very hairs of our heads ; essential, in short, that, whilst his kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and his dominion endureth throughout all generations, he should uphold all that fall, and raise up those that are bowed down. We would add to this, that objections against the doctrine of God's provi- dence are virtually objections against the great truths of creation. Are we to suppose that this or that ephemeral thing, the tiny tenant of a leaf or a bub- ble, is too insignificant to be observed by God ; and that it is absurd to think that the animated point, whose exist- ence is a second, occupies any por- tion of those inspections which have to spread themselves over the revolutions of planets, and the movements of an- gels I Then to what authorship are we to refer this ephemeral thing? We sub- ject it to the powers of the microscope, and are amazed, perhaps, at observing its exquisite symmetries and adornments, Avith what skill it has been fashioned, with what glory it has been clothed : but we find it said that it is dishonor- ing to God to suppose him careful or observant of this insect ; and then our difficulty is, Avho made, who created this insect 1 I know not what there can be too inconsiderable for the provi- dence, if it have not been too inconsi- derable for the creation, of God. What it was not unworthy of God to form, it cannot be unworthy of God to preserve. Why declare anything excluded by its insignificance from his watchfulness, which could not have been produced but by his power 1 Thus the universal Providence of God is little more than an inference from the truth of his be- ing the universal Creator. And men may speak of the littleness of this or that creature, and ask how we can be- lieve that the animalcule, scarce per- ceptible as it floats by us on the even- ing breeze, is observed and cared for by that Being, inaccessible in his sub- limity, who '^ sitteth upon the circle of the earth, and the inhabitants thereof are as grasshoppers :" but we ask in reply, whether or no it be God who gave its substance and animation to this almost invisible atom ; and unless they can point out to us another crea- tor, we shall hold that it must be every way worthy of God, that he should turn all the watchfulness of a guardian on the work of his own hands — for it can- not be more true, that, as universal Creator, he has such power that his dominion endureth throughout all ge- nerations, than that, as universal sus- tainer, he has such carefulness for what- ever he hath formed, that he upholdeth them that fall, and raiseth up all that are bowed down. But up to this point, we have been rather engaged with removing objec- tions against the doctrine of God's pro- vidence, than with examining that doc- trine, as it may be derived from our text. In regard to the doctrine itself, it is evident that nothing can happen in any spot of the universe which is not known to him who is emphatically the Omniscient. But it is far more than the inspection of an ever-vigilant observer which God throws over the concerns of creation. It is not merely that nothing can occur without the knowledge of our Maker : it is that no- thing can occur, but by either his ap- pointment or permission. We say ei- ther his appointment or permission — for we know, that, whilst he ordereth all things, both in heaven and earth, there is much which he allows to be done, but which cannot be referred di- rectly to his authorship. It is in this sense that his Providence has to do with what is evil, overruling it so that it becomes subservient to the march of THE GREATNESS AND CONDESCENSION OF GOD. 143 his purposes. The power that is ex- erted over the Avaters of the ocean, is exerted also over the more boisterous waves of rebellion and crime ; and God saith to the one, as to the other, " hitherto shall ye come and no fur- ther." And as to actions and occur- rences of an opposite description, such as are to be reckoned good and not evil — can it be denied that Providence extends to all these, and is intimately concerned with their production and performance % It must ever be remem- bered that God is the first cause, and that upon the first all secondary de- pend. We are apt to forget this, though unquestionably a self-evident principle, and then we easily lose ourselves in a wide labyrinth, and are perplexed by the multiplicities of agency with which we seem surrounded. But how beautifully simple does eve- ry thing appear, when we trace one hand in all that occurs. And this we are bound to do, if we would allow its full range to the doctrine of God's pro- vidence. It is God whose energies are extended through earth, and sea, and air, causing those unnumbered and be- neficial results which we ascribe to na- ture. It is God by whom all those con- tingencies which seem to us fortuitous and casual are directed, so that events, brought round by what men count ac- cident, proceed from divine, and there- fore irreversible appointment. It is God by whom the human will is secret- ly inclined towards righteousness ; and thus there is not wrought a single ac- tion such as God can approve, to whose performance God hath not instigated. It is God from whom come those many interpositions, which every one has to remark in the course of a long life, when dangers are averted, fears dis- oersed, and sorrows removed. It is jod, who, acting through the instru- mentality of various, and, to all appear- mce, conflicting causes, keeps together he discordant elements of society, and )revents the whole frame-work of civil nstitutions from being rapidly dislo- ated. It is God — but why attempt to numerate 1 Where is the creature ■vhlch God does not sustain 1 where is he solitude whicii God does not filll ,'here is the want which God does not upply 1 where is the motion which rod does not direct "? where is the ac- tion which God does not overrule! If, according to the words of the Psalmist, we could ascend up to heaven, and make our bed in hell ; if we could take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea ; in all this enormous travel, in this journey across the fields of unlimited space, we could never reach the loneliest spot at which Deity was not present as an upholder and guardian ; never find the lonely world, no, nor the lonely scene on any one of those globes with which immensity is strewed, which was not as strictly watched by the ever-w^akeful eye of Omniscience, as though every where else the universe were a void, and this the alone home of life and in- telligence. We have an assurance which nothing can shake, because de- rived from the confessed nature of Godhead, that, in all the greatness of his Almightiness, our A'Jaker is perpe- tually passing from star to star, and from system to system, that he may observe what is needed by every order of be- ing, and minister supply — and yet not passing ; for he is always present, pre- sent as much at one moment as at an- other, and in one world as in another immeasurably distant ; and coA^ering with the Aving of his Providence what- ever he hath formed, and whatever he hath animated. And if we bring our thoughts with- in narrower compass, and confine them to the world appointed for men's dwelling, it is a beautiful truth that there cannot be the creature so insig- nificant, the care so inconsiderable, the action so unimportant, as to be overlooked by Him from whom Ave draw being. I knoAV that it is not the monarch alone, at the head of his tribes and provinces, Avho is observed by the Almighty ; and that it is not only at some great crisis in life, that an individual becomes an object of the attention of his Maker. I know ra- ther that the poorest, the meanest, the most despised, shares Avith the mon- arch the notice of the universal Pro- tector ; and that this notice is so un- wearied and incessant, that Avhen he goes to his daily toil or his daily praj'^- er, Avhen he lies down at night, or rises in the morning, or gathers his little ones to the scanty meal, the poor man is tenderly Avatched by his 144 THE GKEATKESS AND CONUESCENSION OF GOD. God ; and he cannot weep the tear which God sees not, nor smile the smile which God notes not, nor breathe the wish which God hears not. The man indeed of exalted rank, on whom may depend the movements of an empire, is regarded, with a vigi- lance which never knows suspense, by Him " who giveth salvation unto kings j" and the Lord, *' to whom be- long the shields of the earth," bestows on this man whatever wisdom he dis- plays, and whatever strength he puts forth, and whatever success he attains. But the carefulness of Deity is in no sense engrossed by the distinguish- ed individual ; but, just as the regards which are turned on this earth inter- fere not with those which pour them- selves over far-off planets and distant systems, so, whilst the chieftain is ob- served and attended with the assidu- ousness of what might seem an undivi- ded guardianship, the very beggar is as much the object of divine inspection and succor, as though, in the broad sweep of animated being, there were no other to need the sustaining arm of the Creator. And this is what we understand by the providence of the Almighty. We believe of this providence that it ex- tends itself to every household, and throws itself round every individual, and takes part in every business, and is concerned with every sorrow, and accessory to every joy. We believe that it encircles equally the palace and the cottage ; guiding and upholding alike the poor and the rich ; minister- ing to the king in his councils, and to the merchant in his commerce, and to the scholar in his study, and to the laborer in his husbandry — so that, whatever my rank and occupation, at no moment am I withdrawn from the eye of Deity, in no lawful endeavor am I left to myself, in no secret anxiety have I only my own heart with which I may commune. Oh ! it were to take from God all that is most encouraging in his attributes and prerogatives, if you could throw doubt on this doctrine of his universal providence. It is an august contemplation, that of the Al- mighty as the architect of creation, filling the vast void with magnificent structures. We are presently confound- ed when bidden to meditate on the eternity of the Most High : for it is an overwhelming truth, that he who gave beginning to all besides could have had no beginning himself. And there are other characteristics and properties of Deity, whose very mention excites awe, and on which the best eloquence is si- lence. But whilst the universal provi- dence of God is to the full as incom- prehensible as aught else v.'hich apper- tains to Divinity, there is nothing in it but what commends itself to the warm- est feelings of our nature. And we seem to have drawn a picture which is calculated equally to raise astonish- ment and delight, to produce the deep- est reverence and yet the fullest confi- dence, when we have represented God as superintending whatever occurs in his infinite domain — guiding the roll of every planet, and the rush of every cataract, and the gathering of every cloud, and the motion of every will — and when, in order that the delineation may have all that exquisiteness which is only to be obtained from those home- touches which assure us that we have ourselves an interest in what is so splen- did and surprising, we add, that he is with the sick man on his pallet, and with the seaman in his danger, and with the widow in her agony. And what, after all, is this combination but that presented by our text 1 If I would exhibit God as so attending to what is mighty as not to overlook Avhat is mean, what better can I do than declare him mustering around him the vast army of suns and constellations, and all the wdiile hearkening to every cry which goes up from an afiiicted crea- tion — and is not this the very picture sketched by the Psalmist, when, after the sublime ascription, " Thy kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and thy do- minion endureth throughout all gene- rations," he adds the comforting words, " the Lord upholdeth all that fall, and lifteth up all those that be bowed down V We have only to add, that the doc- trine of a particular and universal Pro- vidence, on which we have insisted, is strictly derivable from the very nature of God. We are so accustomed to reckon one thing great and another small, that when we ascend to con- templations of Deity, we are apt to for- get that there is not to him that gradu- THE GREATNESS AND CONDESCENSION OF GOD. 14-5 ated scale wliich there must be to our- I Providence which guides the march selves. It is to bring down God to the feebleness of our own estate, to sup- pose that Avhat is great to us must be great to him, and that what is small to us must be small to him. I know and am persuaded, that, dwelling as God does in inaccessible splendors, a world is to him an atom, and an atom is to him a world. He can knov.r nothing of the human distinctions between great and small — so that he is dishonored, not when all things are reckoned as alike subject to his inspections, but when some things are deemed important enough, and others too insignificant, to come within the notice of his provi- dence. If he concern himself with the fate of an empire, but not Avith the fall of a sparrow, he must be a being scarce removed from equality with ourselves ; for, if he have precisely the same scale by which to estimate importance, the range of his intelligence can be little wider than that of our ov/n. God is that mysterious being, to whom the only great thing is himself. And, there- fore, when " the eyes of all wait upon " him, the seraph gains not attention by his gaze of fire, and the insect loses it not through feebleness of vision — Archangel, and angel, and man, and beast, and fowl of the air, and fish of the sea, all draw equally the regards of him, who, counting nothing great but himself the Creator, can pass over, as small, no fraction of the creature. It is thus virtually the property of God, that he should care for every thing, and sustain every thing; so that we should never behold a blade of grass springing up from the earth, nor hear a bird warble its wild music, nor see an infant slumber on its mother's breast, without a warm memory that it is through God, as a God of providence, that the fields are enamelled in due season, that every animated tribe re- ceives its sustenance, and that the suc- cessive generations of mankind arise, and flourish, and possess the earth. And never should we think of joy or sorrow, of things prosperous or ad- verse, of health or sickness, life or death, without devoutly believing that the times of every man are in the Al- mighty's hands ; that nothing happens but through the ordinance or permis- sion of God; and that the very same ings of stars, and regulates the convul- sions of empires, is tending at the couch of the afflicted, curtaining the sleep, and watching the toil, of the earth's remotest families. VV^e can only desire and pray, in con- clusion, that this great truth might es- tablish itself in all our hearts. Then would all undue anxieties be dismissed, our plans be those of prudence, our en- ergies be rightly directed and strenu- ously emploj^ed, disappointments would be avoided, and hope would never make ashamed ; for we should leave every thing, small as well as great, in the hands of Him who cannot be perplexed by multiplicity, nor overpowered by magnitude; and the result would be that we should enjoy a serenity, no more to be broken by those little cares which perpetually wrinkle the sur- face, than by those fierce storms which threaten the complete shipwreck of peace. And forasmuch as we have spoken of Redemption as well as of Provi- dence, and are now telling you of se- curity and serenity, suffer that we re- mind you of the simile by which St. Paul has represented christian hope : '' Which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast, and which entereth into that within the vail." The anchor is cast "within the vail," whither Christ the forerunner is gone before. And if hope be fixed up- on Christ, the Rock of Ages, a rock rent, if we may use the expression, on purpose that there might be a holding- place for the anchors of a perishii-g world, it may well come to pass that we enjoy a calm as we journey through life, and draw near the grave. But since " other foundation can no man lay ti;an that is laid," if our anchor rest not on this Rock, where is our hope, where our peacefulness 1 I know of a coming tem- pest — and would to God that the young- er part, more especiallj'', of this audi- ence, might be stirred by its approach to repentance and righteousness ! I know of a coming tempest, with which the Almighty shall shake terribly the earth ; the sea and the waves roaring, and the stars falling from the heavens. Then shall there be a thousand ship- wrecks, and immensity be strewed with the fragments of a stranded navy. Then 19 146 THE TERMINATION OF THE MEDIATORIAL KINGDOM. shall vessel upon vessel, laden with rea- son, and high intelligence, and noble faculty, be drifted to and fro, shatter- ed and dismantled, and at last thrown on the shore as fuel for the burning. But there are ships which shall not founder in this battle and dissolution of the elements. There are ships which shall be in no peril whilst this, the last hurricane which is to sweep ovir crea- tion, confounds earth, and sea, and sky; but which — when the fury is overpast, and the light of a morning which is to know no night breaks gloriously forth — shall be found upon crystal and tran- quil waters, resting beautifully on their shadows. These are those which have been anchored upon Christ. These are those — and may none refuse to join the number — who have trusted themselves to the Mediator, who humbled himself that he might lift up all those that are bowed down ; and who have therefore interest in every promise made by Him, whose kingdom is an everlasting king- dom, and whose dominion endureth throughout all generations. SEEMON II. THE TERMINATION OF THE MEDIATORIAL KINGDOM. «' And when all things shall be subdued unto Him, then shall the Son also himself be subject unto Him that put all things under him, that God may be all in all." — 1 Corinthians, 15 : 28. In our last discourse we spoke of an everlasting kingdom, and of a domin- ion which endureth throughout all gen- erations. It will be of a kingdom which must terminate, though it appertain to a divine person, that we shall have to speak in expounding the words of our text. There are two great truths presented oy this verse and its context, each de- serving attentive examination — the one, that Christ is now vested with a king- ly authority which he must hereafter resign ; the other, that, as a conse- quence on this resignation, God him- self will become all in all to the uni- verse. We proceed at once to the con- sideration of these truths ; and begin by observing the importance of care- fully distinguishing between what the Scriptures affirm of the attributes, and what of the offices, of the persons in the Trinity. In regard of the attributes, you will find that the employed lan- guage marks perfect equality ; the Fa- ther, Son, and Spirit, being alike spoken of as Eternal, Omniscient, Omnipotent, Omnipresent. But in regard of the of- fices, there can be no dispute that the language indicates inequality, and that both the Son and Spirit are represent- ed as inferior to the Father. This may readily be accounted for from the na- ture of the plan of redemption. This plan demanded that the Son should humble himself, and assume our na- ture ; and that the Spirit should con- descend to be sent as a renovating agent ; whilst the Father was to remain in the sublimity and happiness of God- head. And if such plan were under- taken and carried through, it seems unavoidable, that, in speaking of its several parts, the Son and the Spirit should be occasionally described as in- ferior to the Father. The offices be- ing subordinate, the holders of those offices, though naturally equal, must THE TERMINATION OF THE MEDIATORIAL KINGDOM. 147 sometimes be exhibited as though one were superior to the others. At one time they may be spoken of with refer- ence to their attributes, and then the language will mark perfect equality ; at another, with reference to their of- fices, and then it will indicate a rela- tive inferiority. And it is only by thus distinguish- ing between the attributes and the of- fices, that we can satisfactorily explain our text and its context. The apostle expressly declares of Christ, that he is to deliver up his kingdom to the Fa- ther, and to become himself subject to the Father. And the question natural- ly proposes itself, how are statements such as these to be reconciled with other portions of Scripture, which speak of Christ as an everlasting King, and declare his dominion to be that which shall not be destroyed 1 There is no difficulty in reconciling these ap- parently conflicting assertions, if we consider Christ as spoken of in the one case as God, in the other as Mediator. If we believe him to be God, we know that he must be, in the largest sense, Sovereign of the universe, and that he can no more give up his dominion than change his nature. And then if we re- gard him as undertaking the office of Mediator between God and man, we must admit the likelihood that he would be invested, as holding this office, with an authority not necessarily permanent, which would last indeed as long as the office, but cease if there ever came a period when the office would itself be abolished. So that there is no cause for surprise, nothing which should go to the persuading us that Christ is not God, if we find the Son described as surrendering his kingdom : we have only to suppose him then spoken of as Mediator, and to examine whether there be not a mediatorial kingdom, which, committed to Christ, has at length to be resigned. And you cannot be acquainted with the scheme of our Redemption, and not know that the office of Mediator warrants our supposing a kingdom ivliich will be finally surrendered. The ^rand design of Redemption has all ilong been the exterminating evil from he universe, and the restoring harnio- ly throughout God's disorganized em- )ire. We know that God made every thing good, and that the creation, whe- ther animate or inanimate, as it rose from his hands, presented no trace of imperfection or pollution. But evil mys- teriously gained entrance, and, origi- nating in heaven, spread rapidly to earth. And henceforwards it was the main purpose of the Almighty to coun- teract evil, to obliterate the stains from his workmanship, and to reinstate and confirm the universe in its original pu- rity. To effect this purpose, his own Son, equal to himself in all the attri- butes of Godhead, undertook to as- sume human nature ; and to accom- plish, in working out the reconciliation of an alienated tribe, results which should extend themselves to every de- partment of creation. He was not in- deed fully and visibly invested with the kingly office, until after his death and resurrection; for then it was that he declared to his disciples, " all pow- er is given unto me in heaven and earth." Nevertheless the Mediatori- al kingdom had commenced with the commencement of human guilt and mi- sery. For, so soon as man rebelled, Christ interfered on his behalf, and as- sumed the office of his surety and de- liverer. He undertook the combat with the powers of evil, and fought his first battle. And afterwards all God's inter- course with the world was carried on. through the Mediator — Christ appear- ing in human form to patriarchs and saints, and superintending the con- cerns of our race with distinct refer- ence to the good of his church. But when, through death, he had de- stroyed '' him that had the power of death," the Mediator became emphati- cally a king. He " ascended up on high, and led captivity captive," in that very nature in which he had " borne our griefs and carried our sorrows." He sat down at the right hand of God, the very person that had been made a curse for us; and there was "given him a name which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things on earth, and things under the earth." And ever since he hath been " head over all things to the church ;" and God has so delegated his power to the Mediator, that this JMedia- tnr has "the keys of hell and of death," and so rules human aflairs as to make MS THE TERMINATION OF THK MEDIATORIAL KINGDOM. way for a grand consummation which creation j'^et expects. It is certainly the representation of Scripture, that Christ has been exalted to a throne, in recompense of his humiliation and suf- fering ; and that, seated on this throne, he governs all things in heaven and earth. And we call this throne the me- diatorial throne, because it was only as Mediator that Christ could be exalt- ed ; because, possessing essentially all power as God, it could only be as God- man that he was vested with dominion. " He must reign," saith St. Paul, " un- til he hath put all enemies under his feet." The great object for which the kingdom has been erected, is, that he who occupies the throne may subdue those principalities and powers which have set themselves against the go- vernment of God. Already have vast advances been made towards the sub- jugation. But the kingdoms of the world have not yet become the king- doms of our Lord and his Christ. Sin still reigns, and death still reigns, and only an inconsiderable fraction of the human population bow to the sceptre of Jesus. But we are taught to expect a thorough and stupendous change. We know from prophecy that a time approaches when the whole world shall be evangelized ; when there shall not be the tribe, no, nor the individual iipon earth, who fails to love and re- verence the Mediator. Christ hath yet to set up his kingdom on the wreck of all human sovereignty, and so to dis- play himself that he shall be univer- sally adored as " King of kings and Lord of lords." And when this noble result is brought round, and the whole globe mantled with righteousness, there will yet re- main much to be done ere the media- torial work is complete. The throne must be set for judgment; the enact- ments of a retributive economy take effect ; the dead be raised, and all men receive the things done in the body. Then will evil be finally expelled from the universe, and God may again look forth on his unlimited empire, and de- clare it not defiled by a solitary stain. Then will be "the restitution of all things." Then will it be evident that the power committed to Christ has ac- complished the great ends for which it was entrusted, the overthrow of Satan, the destruction of death, and the extir- pation of unrighteousness. And if it be the declaration of Scripture that the Mediator shall thus at length master evil under its every form, and in its every consequence, will not this Medi- ator finally prove himself a king — de- monstrating not only the possession of sovereignty, but the employment of it to those illustrious purposes which were proposed by God from the foun- dation of the world 1 Yes, we can say with St. Paul, " we see not yet all things put under him." But we see enough to assure us that " him hath God exalted as a Prince and a Savior." We see enough, and we know enough, to be persuaded, that there is kingdom within kingdom ; and that, whilst God is still the universal Monarch, the Om- nipotent who " telleth the number of the stars," and without whom not even a sparrow falls, the Mediator superin- tends and regulates the afi'airs of his church, and orders, with absolute swaj% whatever respects the final establish- ment of righteousness through crea- tion. And therefore are Ave also per- suaded, on the testimony which cannot deceive, that this Mediator shall reign till he hath brought into subjection every adversary of God ; and that at last — death itself being swallowed up in victory — the universe, purged from all pollution, and glowing with a richer than its pristine beauty, shall be the evidence that there hath indeed been a mediatorial kingdom, and that no- thing could withstand the Mediator's sovereignty. Now it has been our object, up to this point of our discourse, to prove to you, on scriptural authority, that the Mediator is a king, and that Christ, as God-man, is invested with a dominion not to be confounded with that which belongs to him as God. You are now therefore prepared for the question, whether Christ have not a kingdom which must be ultimately resigned. We think it evident that, as Mediator, Christ has certain functions to discharge, which, from their very nature, cannot be eternal. When the last of God's elect family shall have been gathered in, there will be none to need the blood of sprink- ling, none to require the intercession of " an advocate with the Father." And when the last enemy, which is death, THE TERMINATION OF THE MEDIATORIAL KINGDOM. 149 shall have been destroyed, that great purpose of the Almighty — the conquest of Satan, and the extirpation of evil, will be accomplished ; so that there will be no more battles for the Media- tor to fight, no more adversaries to sub- due. And thus, if we have rightly de- scribed the mediatorial kingdom, there is to come a time when it will be no longer necessary ; when, every object for which it was erected having been fully and finally attained, and no possi- bility existing that evil may re-enter the universe, this kingdom may be ex- pected to cease. And this is the great consummation which we are taught by our text and its context to expect. We may not be able to explain its details, but the outlines are sketched with boldness and preci- sion. There has been committed to Christ, not as God, but as God-man, a kingdom which, though small in its be- ginning, shall at length supersede every other. The designs proposed in the erection of this kingdom, are the sal- vation of man and the glory of God, in the thorough extirpation of evil from the universe. These designs Avill be fully accomplished at the general judg- ment ; and then, the ends for which the kingdom was erected having been an- swered, the kingdom itself is to termi- nate- Then shall the Son of man, hav- ing " put down all rule and all autho- rity and power," lay aside the sceptre of majesty, and take openly a place subordinate to Deity. Then shall all that sovereignty which, for magnifi- cent but temporary purposes, has been wielded by and through the humanity of Christ, pass again to the Godhead whence it was derived. Then shall the Creator, acting no longer through the instrumentality of a mediator, assume visibly, amid the worshippings of the whole intelligent creation, the domi- nion over his infinite and now purified empire, and administer its every con- cern without the intervention of one " found in fashion as a man." And then, though as head of his church, Christ, in human nature, may always retain a special power over his people, and though, as essentially divine, he must at all times be equally the omnipotent, there will necessarily be such a change in the visible government of the uni- verse, that the Son shall seem to sur- render all kingly authority ; to descend from his throne, having made his ene- mies his footstool, and take his station amongst those who obey rather than rule 5 and thus shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, " the Son also himself shall be subject unto him that put all things under him ;" and God, the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, " God shall henceforwards be all in all." Now it is upon this latter expression, indicative as it is of what we may call the universal diffusion of Deity, that we design to employ the remainder of our time. We wish to examine into the truths involved in the assertion, that God is to be finally all in all. It is an assertion which, the more it is pon- dered, the more august and compre- hensive will it appear. You may re- member that the same expression is used of Christ in the Epistle to the Co- lossians — '' Christ is all and in all." There is no disagreement between the assertions. In the Epistle to the Colos- sians St. Paul speaks of what takes place under the mediatorial kingdom; whereas in that to the Corinthians, he describes what will occur when that kingdom shall have terminated. At present, whatever in the divine go- vernment has reference to this earth and its inhabitants, is not transacted immediately by God, but mediately through an Intercessor, so that Christ is all in all. But hereafter, the media- torial office finally ceasing, the admi- nistration, we are assured, will be im- mediately with God, and therefore will God be all in all. We learn then from the expression in question, however unable we may be to explain the amazing transition, that there is to be a removal of the ap- paratus constructed for allowing us communications with Godhead ; and that we shall not need those offices of an Intercessor, without which there could now be no access to our Maker. There is something very grand and animating in this announcement. If we were unfallen creatures, we should need no Mediator. We might, as did Adam, approach at once the Creator, and, though awed by his majesty, have no fears as to our reception, and ex- perience no repulse. And therefore, whilst we heartily thank God for the unspeakable gift of his Son, we cannot 150 THE TERMINATION OF THE MEDIATORIAL KINGDOM. but feel, that, so long as we have no access to him except through a Media- tor, we have not altogether recovered our forfeited privileges. The mediato- rial office, independently on which we must have been everlastingly outcasts, is evidence, throughout the whole of its continuance, that the human race does not yet occupy the place whence it fell. But with the termination of this office shall be the admission of man into all the privileges of direct access to his Maker. Then shall he see face to face ; then shall he know even as also he is known. There are yet, and there must be, whilst God's dealings with humanity are carried on through a Mediator, separating distances between our race and the Creator, which exist not in regard of other orders of being. But the descent of the Son from the throne, to which he was exalted in re- compense of his sufferings, shall be the unfolding to man the presence-chamber in which Deity unveils his effulgence. In ceasing to have a Mediator, the last barrier is taken down; and man, Avho had thrown himself to an unmeasured distance from God, passes into those direct associations with Him '' that in- habiteth eternity," which can be grant- ed to none but those who never fell, or who, having fallen, have been recovered from every consequence of apostacy. And therefore, it is not that we de- preciate, or undervalue, the blessedness of that condition in which Christ is all in all to his church. We cannot com- pute this blessedness, and we feel that the best praises fall far short of its de- serts ; and yet we can believe of this blessedness, that it is only preparatory to a richer and a higher. Whilst over- whelmed with the consciousness that I owe every thing to a Mediator, I can yet feel that this Mediator must lay aside his office as no longer necessary, ere I can stand in that relationship to Deity, and possess that freedom of ap- proach, which belong to the loftiest and holiest in creation. To tell me that I should need a Mediator through eter- nity, were to tell me that I should be in danger of death, and at a distance from God. And, therefore, in inform- ing me of the extinction of that sove- reignty by which alone I can be res- cued, you inform mc of the restora- tion of all which Adam lost, and of the placing humankind on equality with angels. It is not then, we again say, that we are insensible to benefits, over- passing all thought, which we derive from the mediatorial kingdom; it is only because we know that this king- dom is but introductory to another, and that the perfection of happiness must require our admission into direct in- tercourse with our Maker — it is only on these accounts that we anticipate with delight the giving up of the king- dom to the Father, and associate what- ever is most gladdening and glorious with the truth, that God, rather than Christ, shall be all in all through eter- nity. But there are other thoughts sug- gested by the fact, that God himself shall be all in all. We have hitherto considered the expression as simply denoting that men will no longer ap- proach God through a Mediator, and that their happiness will be vastly aug- mented by their obtaining the privi- lege of direct access. There is, how- ever, no reason for supposing that the human race alone will be affected by the resignation of the mediatorial king- dom. We may not believe that it is only over ourselves that Christ Jesus has been invested with sovereignty. It would rather appear, since all power has been given him in heaven and earth, that the mediatorial kingdom embraces different worlds, and differ- ent orders of intelligence ; and that the chief affairs of the universe are administered by Christ in his glorified humanity. It is therefore possible that even unto angels the Godhead does not now immediately manifest itself; but that these glorious creatures are governed, like ourselves, through the instrumentality of the Mediator. Hence it will be a great transition to the whole intelligent creation, and not merely to an inconsiderable fraction, when the. Son shall give up the king- dom to the Father. It will be the vi- sible enthronement of Deity. The Cre- ator will come forth from his sub- lime solitude, and assume the sceptre of his boundless empire. It will be a new and overwhelming manifestation of Divinity — another fold of the veil, which must always hang between the created and the uncreated, will have been removed ; and the thousand times THE TERMINATION OF THE MEDIATORIAL KINGDOM. 151 ten thousand spirits which throng im- mensity, shall behold with a clear vi- sion, and know with an ampler know- ledge, the Eternal One at whose word they rose into being. And it is not, we think, possible to give a finer description of universal harmony and happiness, than is con- tained in the sentence, " God all in all," when supposed to have reference to every rank in creation. Let us con- sider for a moment what the sentence implies. It implies that there shall be but one mind, and that the Divine mind, throughout the universe. Every creature shall be so actuated by Deity, that the ^^Creator shall have only to will, and the whole mass of intelligent being will be conscious of the same wish, and the same purpose. It is not merely that every creature will be un- der the government of the Creator, as a subject is under that of his prince. It is not merely that to eveiy com- mand of Deity there will be yielded an instant and cheerful obedience, in every department, and by every in- habitant of the universe. It is more than all this. It is that there shall be such fibres of association between the Creator and the creatures — God shall be so wound up, if the expression be lawful, with all intelligent being — that every other will shall move simulta- neously with the divine, and the re- solve of Deity be instantly felt as one mighty impulse pervading the vast ex- pansion of mind. God all in all — it is that from the highest order to the lowest, archangel, and angel, and man, and principality, and power, there shall be but one desire, one object; so that to every motion of the eternal Spirit there will be a corresponding in each element of the intellectual creation, as though there were throughout but one soul, one animating, actuating, ener- gizing principle. God all in all. I know not how to describe the har- ;mony which the expression seems to ; indicate. This gathering of the Creator iinto every creature; this making each imind in the world of spirit a sort of I centre of Deity, from which flow the 'high decisions of divine sovereignty, so that, in all its amplitude, the intel- • lectual creation seems to witness that God is equally every where, and serves as one grand instrument which, at every point and in every spring, is in- stinct with the very thought of Him who "ordereth all things in heaven and earth" — oh, this immeasurably transcends the mere reduction of all systems, and all beings, into a delight- ed and uniform obedience. This is making God more than the universal Ruler : it is making him the universal Actuator. And you might tell me of tribe upon tribe of magnificent crea- tures, waiting to execute the com- mandments of God ; you might deline- ate the very tenant of every spot in im- mensity, bowing to one sceptre, and burning with one desire, and living for one end — but indeed the most labored and high-wrought description of the universal prevalence of concord, yields unspeakably to the simple announce- ment, that there shall be but one spi- rit, one pulse, through creation ; and thought itself is distanced, when we hear, that after the Son shall have sur- rendered his kingdom to the Father, God himself shall be all in all to the universe. But if the expression mark the har- mony, it marks also the happiness of eternity. It is undeniable, that, even whilst on earth, we find things more beautiful and precious in proportion as we are accustomed to find God in them, to view them as gifts, and to love them for the sake of the giver. It is not the poet, nor the naturalist, who has the richest enjoyment when sur- veying the landscape, or tracing the manifestations of creative power and contrivance. It is the christian, who recognizes a Father's hand in the glo- rious development of mountain and val- ley, and discovers the loving-kindness of an ever-watchful guardian in each example of the adaptation of the earth to its inhabitants. No man has such pleasure in any of those objects which answer to the various aflections of his nature, as the man who is accustomed to the seeing God in them. And then only is the creature loved, not merely with a lawful, but with an elevated and ennobling love, when regarded as be- stowed on us by the Creator, and wear- ing the impress of the benevolence of Deity. What will it be when God shall be literally all in alii It were little to tell us, that, admitted into the heavenly 152 THE TERMINATION OF THE MEDIATORIAL KINGDOM. Jerusalem, we should worship in a tem- ple magnificent in architecture, and bow down at a shrine, whence flashed the effulgence and issued the voice of Jehovah. The mighty and overwhelm- ing thing is, that, according to the vi- sion of St. John, there shall be no tem- ple there; but that so actually shall God be all, that Deity itself will be our sanctuary, and our adorations be ren- dered in the sublime recesses of the Omnipotent himself. It were little to assure us that the everlasting dwelling- place of the saints shall be irradiated by luminaries a thousand-fold more splendid and gorgeous than walk the firmament of a fallen creation. The animated intelligence is, that there shall be "no need of the sun, neither of the moon ;" that God shall be all, and the shinings of Divinity light up the scenery over which we shall expa- tiate. And if we think on future inter- course Avith beings of our own race, or of loftier ranks, then only are the an- ticipations rapturous and inspiriting, when Deity seems blended with every association. I know how frequently, when death has made an inroad on a household, the thoughts of survivors follow the buried one into the invisible state ; and with what fervency and fondness they dwell on re-union in a world where partings are unknown. And never let a syllable be breathed which would throw suspicion on a te- net commending itself so exquisitely to the best sympathies of our nature, or take away from mourners the con- solatory belief, that, in the land of the promised inheritance, the parent shall know the child whom he followed heart- broken to the grave, and the child the parent who left him in all the loneliness of orphanage, and the husband the wife, or the wife the husband, whose remo- val threw a blight on all the happiness of home. But how can it come to pass that there will be anything like the re- newal of human associations, and yet future happiness be of that exalted and unearthly character, which has nothing common with the contracted feelings here engaged by a solitary family 1 We reply at once that God is to be all in all. The child may be again loved and embraced. But the emotions will have none of that selfishness into which the purest and deepest of our feelings may wow be too much resolved : it will be God that the child loves in the parent, and it will be God that the parent loves in the child ; and the gladness with which the heart of each swells, as they recognize one the other in the celes- tial city, will be a gladness of which Deity is the spring, a gladness of which Deity is the object. Thus shall it be also in regard of every element which can be supposed to enter into future happiness. It is certain, that, if God be all in all, there will be excited in us no wish Avhich we shall be required to repress, none Avhich shall not be gratified so soon as formed. Having God in ourselves, we shall have capacities of enjoyment immeasurably larger than at present ; having God in all around us, we shall find every where material of enjoyment commensurate with our amplified powers. Let us put from us confused and indeterminate no- tions of happiness, and the simple de- scription, that God shall be all in all, sets before us the very perfection of felicity. The only sound definition of happiness is that every faculty has its proper object. And we believe of man, that God endowed him with various ca- pacities, intending to be himself their supply. Man indeed revolted from God, and has ever since endeavored, though ever disappointed, to fill his capacities with other objects than God. But may not God hereafter, having rectified the disorders of humanity, be himself the object of our every faculty! I know not why we may not suppose that not only the works of God, which now manifest his qualities, but the qualities themselves, as they subsist without measure in the ever-living Creator, will become the immediate objects of contemplation. " What an object," says Bishop Butler, " is the universe to a creature, if there be n creature who can comprehend its system. But it must be an infinitely higher exer- cise of the understanding, to view the scheme of it in that mind which pro- jected it, before its foundations were laid. And surely we have meaning to the words when we speak of going fur- ther, and viewing, not only this system in his mind, but the very wisdom, in- telligence, and power from which it proceeded." And yet more, as the pre- THE TERMINATION OF THE MEDIATORIAL KINGDOM. 153 late goes on to argue. Wisdom, intel- ligence, and power, are not God, though God is an infinitely wise being, and in- telligent, and powerful. So that to con- template the effects of wisdom must be an inferior thing to the contemplating wisdom in itself — for the cause must be always a higher object to the mind than the effect — and the contemplating wisdom in itself must be an inferior thing to the contemplating the divine nature ; for wisdom is but an attribute of the nature, and not the nature itself. Thus, at present, we make little or no approach towards knowing God as he is, because God hath not yet made himself all in all to his creatures. But let there once come this universal dif- fusion of Deity, and we may find in God himself the objects which answer to our matured and spiritualized facul- ties. We profess not to be competent to the understanding the mysterious change which is thus indicated as pass- ing on the universe. But we can per- ceive it to be a change which shall be full of glory, full of happiness. We shall be as sensible of the presence of God, as we now are of the presence of a friend, when he is standing by us, and conversing with us. " And what will be the joy of heart which his presence %vill inspire good men with, when they shall have a sensation that he is the sustainer of their being, that they ex- ist in him ; when they shall feel his in- fluence cheering, and enlivening, and supporting their frame, in a manner of which we have now no conception/?" He will be, in a literal sense, their strength and their portion for ever. Thus we look forward to the termi- nation of the mediatorial kingdom, as the event with which stands associated our reaching the summit of our felici- ty. There is then to be a removal of all that is now intermediate in our com- munications with Deity, and the sub- stitution of God himself for the objects which he has now adapted to the giv- ing us delight. God himself will be an object to our faculties ; God himself will be our happiness. And as we travel from one spot to another of the uni- verse, and enter into companionship with different sections of its rejoicing population, every where wc shall carry Deity with us, and every where find Deity — not as now, when faith must all along do battle with sense, but in mani- festations so immediate, so direct, so adapted to our faculties of perception, that we shall literally see God, and be in contact with God ; and oh then, if thought recur to the days of probation, when all that concerns us Avas admin- istered through a Mediator, we shall feel that whatever is most illustrious in dignity, whatever most rapturous in en- joyment, was promised in the prophetic announcement, that, when the Son shall have delivered up the kingdom to the Father, God himself shall be all in all. We can only add that it becomes us to examine whether we are now sub- jects of the mediatorial kingdom, or whether we are of those Avho will not that Christ should reign over them. If God is hereafter to be all in all, it be- hoves us to inquire what he is to us novvl Can we say with the Psalmist, " whom have I in heaven but thee, and there is none upon earth that I desire in comparison of thee 1" How vain must be our hope of entering into hea- ven, if we have no present delight in what are said to be its joys. A chris- tian finds his happiness in holiness. And therefore, when he looks forward to heaven, it is the holiness of the scene, and association, on which he fastens as affording the happiness. He is not in love with an Arcadian para- dise, with the green pastures, and the flowing waters, and the minstrelsy of many harpers. He is not dreaming of a bright island, where he shall meet buried kinsfolk, and, renewing domes- tic charities, live human life again in all but its cares, and tears, and part- ings. " Be ye holy, for I am holy " — - this is the precept, attempted conformi- ty to which is the business of a chris- tian's life, perfect conformity to which shall be the blessedness of heaven. Let us therefore take heed that we deceive not ourselves. The apostle speaks of " tasting the powers of the world to come," as though heaven were to be- gin on this side the grave. We may be enamored of heaven, because we think that " there the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest." We may be enchanted with the poetry of its descriptions, and fasci- nated by the brilliancy of its color- ings, as the Evangelist John relates his visions, and sketches the scenery on 20 154 THE ADVANTAGES RESULTING FROM which he was privileged to gaze. But all this does not prove us on the high road to heaven. Again we say, that, if it be heaven towards which we jour- ney, it will be holiness in which we delight: for if we cannot now rejoice in having God for our portion, where is our meetness for a world in which God is to be all in all for ever and fov ever'? SERMON HI. THE ADVANTAGES RESULTING FROM THE POSSESSIOIf OF THE SCRIPTURES.* " What advantage then hath the Jew ? or what profit is there of circumcision ? Much every way ; chiefly because that unto them were committed the oracles of God." — Rom. 3 ; 1, 2, We think it unnecessary either to ex- amine the general argument with which St. Paul was engaged when he penned these words, or to interpret the pas- sage with reference to the Jew rather than to ourselves. It is quite evident that the force of the verses is indepen- dent on the general argument, and must have been increased rather than dimi- nished, As additions were made to the amount of Revelation. It was objected to the apostle that he represented Jew and Gentile as all along on the same level; but he felt that the objection was removed by reminding his opponent that the Jew had, and the Gentile had not, the sacred Scriptures. He reck- oned it sufficient proof that an un- measured advantage had lain with the chosen people, that " unto them had been committed the oracles of God." This is a high testimony to the worth of the Bible, and deserves to be ex- amined with the greatest attention. Of course, if the possession of but a few inspired writings gave the Jew a vast superiority over the Gentile, the pos- session of a volume, containing the • A coUedion was made after this Sermon in support of the Old Charity Schools. whole of revelation, must be attended with yet greater privileges. It should, however, be observed, that the apostle seems to refer to more than the mere possession of the Bible; the expression which he employs marks out the Jews as the depository of revelation. " Chief- ly because that unto them were com- mitted, or intrusted, the oracles of God." There may be here an intima- tion, that those who have the Bible are to be regarded as stewards, just as are those who have large earthly posses- sions. If this be correct, there are two points of view under which it will be our business to endeavor to set before you the advantageousness of possess- ing God's oracles. We must show that the Bible is profitable to a nation, in the first place, because that nation may be improved by its contents; in the second place, because that nation may impart them to others. Now it may appear so trite and ac- knowledged a truth, that a people is advantaged by possessing the Bible, that it were but wasting time to spend much on its exhibition. We are not, however, prepared to admit that the worth of the Bible is generally allow- ed, or adequately estimated; so that, THE POSSESSION OF THE SCRIPTURES. 155 even before such an audience as the present, we would enlarge on the ad- vantages which result to a nation from possessing God's oracles. We take at first the lowest ground ; for many who acknowledge gratefully the worth of Holy Writ, when man is viewed relatively to an after state of being, seem little conscious of the blessings derived from it, when he is regarded merely in reference to this earth. It were no over-bold opinion, that, if the Bible were not the word of God, and could be proved to be not the word of God, it would nevertheless be the most precious of books, and do immeasurably more for a land than the finest productions of literature and phi- losophy. We always recur with great delight to the testimony of a deist, who, after publicly laboring to dis- prove Christianity, and to bring Scrip- ture into contempt as a forgery, was found instructing his child from the pages of the New Testament. When taxed with the flagrant inconsistency, his only reply was, that it was neces- sary to teach the child morality, and that nowhere was there to be found such morality as in the Bible. We thank the deist for the confession. Whatever our scorn of a man who could be guilty of so foul a dishonesty, seeking to sweep from the earth a vo- lume to which, all the while, himself recurred for the principles of educa- tion, we thank him for his testimony, that the morality of Scripture is a mo- rality not elsewhere to be found ; so that, if there were no Bible, there would be comparatively no source of instruction in duties and virtues, whose neglect and decline would dislocate the happiness of human society. The deist was right. Deny or disprove the divine origin of Scripture, and nevertheless you must keep the volume as a kind of text-book of morality, if indeed you would not wish the banishment from our homes of all that is lovely and sa- cred, and the breaking up, through the lawlessness of ungovernable passions, of the quiet and the beauty which are yet round our families. It is a mighty benefit, invariably pro- duced where the Bible makes way — the heightened tone of morals, and the in- troduction of principles essential to the stability of government, and the well- being of households. We admit indeed that this benefit could be but partially wrought, if the Bible were received as only a human composition. We do not exactly see how the deist was to en- force on his child the practice of what Scripture enjoined, if he denied to that Scripture the authority drawn from the being God's word. Yet it is not to be doubted, that, even where there is but little regard to the divine origin of the Bible, the book wields no inconsidera- ble sway; so that numbers, who care nothing for it as a revelation from God, are unconsciously influenced by it in every department of conduct. The deist, though he reject revelation, and treat it as a fable, is not what he would have been, had there been no revela- tion. As a member of society, he has been fashioned and cast into the mould of the Bible, however vehement in his wish to exterminate the Bible. It is because the Bible has gained footing in the land where he dwells, and drawn a new boundary-line between what is base and what honorable, what unwor- thy of rational beings and what excel- lent and of good report, that he has learned to prize virtues and shun vi- ces which respectively promote and impede the happiness of families and the greatness of communities. He is therefore the ungracious spectacle of a being elevated by that which he de- rides, ennobled by that on which he throws ridicule, and indebted for all on Avhich he prides himself to that which he pronounces unworthy his regard. And if it be thus certain — certain on the confession of its enemies — that a pure and high morality is to be ga- thered only from the pages of the Bi- ble, what an advantage is there in the possession of the Scriptures, even if death were the termination of human existence. Take away the Bible from a nation, so that there should no lon- ger be the exhibition and inculcation of its precepts, and there would be a gradual, yea, and a rapid, introduction of false principles and spurious theo- ries, which would pave the way for a total degeneracy of manners. You would quickly find that honesty and integrity were not held in their former repute, but had given place to fraud and extortion ; that there was an uni- versal setting up of an idol of selfish- 156 THE ADVANTAGES RESULTING FROM ness, before which all that is generous, and disinterested, and philanthropic, would be forced to do homage 5 that there was attached little or none of that sacredness to domestic relation- ships which had heretofore been the chief charm of families ; and that there Avas departing from our institutions all that is glorious in liberty, and from our firesides all that gives them their at- tractiveness. Whatever had been intro- duced and matured by the operations of Christianity, would, in process of time, decay and disappear, were those operations suspended ; and since we can confidently trace to the influences of true religion, our advancement in all that concerns the public security, and the private tranquillity ; we can with equal confidence affirm our speedy re- lapse, if these influences were suddenly withdrawn. And therefore do we feel that we give an exaggerated statement, when we describe the possession of the Bible as the possession of a talis- man, by which the worst forms of evil are averted from a land, and the best and purest blessings shrined in its households. We are never afraid to ascribe to the prevalence of true religion, that unmeasured superiority in all the dig- nities and decencies of life, which dis- tinguish a christian nation as com- pared with a heathen. We ascribe it to nothing but acquaintance with the revealed will of God, that those king- doms of the earth, which bow at the name of Jesus, have vastly outstripped in civilization every other, whether ancient or modern, which may be de- signated pagan and idolatrous. If you search for the full developement of the principles of civil liberty, for the security of property, for an evenhand- ed justice, for the rebuke of gross vices, for the cultivation of social vir- tues, and for the diffusion of a gene- rous care of the suffering, you must turn to lands where the cross has been erected — as though Christianity were identified with what is fine in policy, lofty in morals, and permanent in great- ness. Yea, as though the Bible were a mighty volume, containing whatever is requisite for correcting the disor- ders of states and cementing the hap- piness of families, you find that the causing it to be received and read by a people, is tantamount to the produc- ing a thorough revolution — a revolu- tion including equally the palace and the cottage — so that every rank in so- ciety, as though there had been waved over it the wand of the magician, is mysteriously elevated, and furnished with new elements of dignity and comfort. Who then will refuse to confess, that, even if regard were had to nothing beyond the present narrow scene, there is no gift comparable to that of the Bible ; and that consequent- ly, though a nation might throw away, as did the Jewish, the greatest of their privileges, and fail to grasp the im- mortality set before them in the re- velation intrusted to their keepings there would yet be proof enough of their having possessed a vast advan- tage over others, in the fact adduced by St, Paul in our text, that " unto them had been committed the oracles of God]" We would further observe that we stand indebted to the Bible for much of intellectual as well as moral advan- tage. Indeed the two go together. Where there is great moral, there will commonly be great mental degrada- tion; and the intellect has no fair play, whilst the man is under the dominion of vice. It is certainly to be observed, that, in becoming a religious man, an individual seems to gain a wider com- prehension, and a sounder judgment; as though, in turning to God, he had sprung to a higher grade in intelli- gence. It would mark a weak, or at least an uninformed mind, to look with contempt on the Bible, as though beneath the notice of a man of high power and pursuit. He who is not spiritually, will be intellectually bene- fited by the study of Scripture ; and we would match the sacred volume against every other, when the object proposed in the perusal is the strength- ening the understanding by contact with lofty truth, or refining the taste by acquaintance with exquisite beauty. And of course the intellectual benefit is greatly heightened, if accompanied by a spiritual. Man becomes in the largest sense " a new creature," when you once waken the dormant immor- tality. It is not, of course, that there is communicated any fresh set of men- tal powers J but there is removed all THE POSSESSION OF THE SCRIPTURES. 157 that weight and oppression which ig- norance and viciousness lay upon the brain. And what is true of an indivi- dual is true, in its degree, of a nation ; the diffusion of christian knowledge being always attended by diffusion of correct views in other departments of truth, so that, in proportion as a pea- santry is christianized, you will find it more inquiring and intelligent. And there is no cause for surprise in the fact, that intellectual benefits are conferred by the Bible. It is to be re- membered that we are indebted to the Bible for all our knowledge of the early history of the world, of the creation of man, and of his first condition and ac- tions. Remove the Bible, and we are left to conjecture and fable, and to that enfeebling of the understanding which error almost necessarily pro- duces. Having no authentic account of the origin of all things, we should bewilder ourselves with theories which would hamper our every inquiry ; and the mind, perplexed and baffled at the outset, would never expand freely in its after investigations. We should have confused apprehensions of some unknown powers on which we depend- ed, peopling the heavens with various deities, and subjecting ourselves to the tyrannies of superstition. And it is scarcely to be disputed, that there is, in every respect, a debasing tendency in superstition ; and that, if we ima- gined the universe around us full of ri- val and antagonist gods, in place of knowing it under the dominion of one mighty First Cause, we should enter at a vast disadvantage on the scrutiny of the wonders by which we are sur- rounded; the intellect being clouded by the mists of moral darkness, and all nature overcast through want of knowledge of its author. The astronomer may have been guid- ed, however unconsciously, by the Bi- ble, as he has pushed his discoveries across the broad fields of space. Why is it that the chief secrets of nature have been penetrated only in christian i times, and in christian lands ; and that men, whose names are first in the roll on which science emblazons her a- chievements, have been men on whom fell the rich light of revelation 1 We pretend not to say that it was revela- tion which directly taught them how to trace the motions of stars, and laid open to their gaze mysteries which had heretofore baffled man's sagacity. But we believe, that, just because their lot was cast in days, and in scenes, when and where the Bible had been re- ceived as God's word, their intellect had freer play than it would otherwise have had, and their mind went to its work with greater vigor, and less im- pediment. We believe that he who sets himself to investigate the revolutions of planets, knowing thoroughly before- hand who made those planets and gov- erns their motions, would be incalcula- bly more likely to reach some great discovery, than another who starts in utter ignorance of the truths of crea- tion, and ascribes the planets to chance, or some unintelligible agency. And it is nothing against this opinion, that some who have been eminent by scien- tific discoveries, have been notorious for rejection of Christianity and oppo- sition to the Bible. Let them have been even atheists — they have been atheists, not in a land of atheists, but in a land of worshippers of the one true God ; and our conviction is, that, had they been atheists in a land of atheists, they would never have so signalized them- selves by scientific discovery. It has been through living, as it were, in an atmosphere of truth, however they themselves have imbibed error, that they have gained that elasticity of pow- ers which has enabled them to rise in- to unexplored regions. They have not been ignorant of the truths of the Bi- ble, however they may have repudiated the Bible ; and these truths have told on all their faculties, freeing them from trammels, and invigorating them for labor ; so that very possibly the emi- nence which they have reached, and where they rest with so much pride, would have been as inaccessible to themselves as to the gifted inquirers of heathen times, had not the despised Gospel pioneered the way, and the re- jected Scriptures unfettered their un- derstandings. We are thus to the full as persuaded of the intellectual, as of the moral bene- fits produced by the Bible. We reck- on, that, in giving the inspired volume to a nation, you give it that which shall cause its mental powers to expand, as well as that which shall rectify exist- 158 THE ADVANTAGES RESULTING FROM ing disorders. And if you would ac- count for the superiority of christian over heathen lands in what is intellec- tually great, in philosophy, and sci- ence, and the stretch and the grasp of knowledge, you may find the producing causes in the possession of the Scrip- tures — yea, and men may come with all the bravery of a boastful erudition, and demand admiration of the might of the human mind, as it seems to subju- gate the universe, counting the heaven- ly hosts, and tracking comets as they sweep along where the eye cannot fol- low ; but so well assured are we that it was revelation alone whose beams warmed what was dwarfish till it sprang into this vigor, that we explain the greater mental strength which a nation may display, on the principle " chiefly that unto them have been committed the oracles of God." But if we can thus make good the advantageousness asserted in our text, when the reference is exclusively to the present scene of being, we shall have but little difficulty when we take higher ground. Is it nothing that a people may put from them the offer of immortality, and thus bring upon them- selves at last a heavier condemnation, than could have overtaken them, had they never heard the Gospel. It would be for the final advantage of the indi- vidual who dies in impenitence and in- fidelity, that his spirit should perish like that of the brutes ; but it will not, on this account, be contended that there was no blessing in his being born a man. In like manner, it cannot be ar- gued, that there has been nothing pro- fitable in the possession of the Scrip- tures, because the gift has been abused or neglected. We can say to those who as yet have drawn no spiritual benefit from the Bible, the opportunity is not gone ; the Scriptures may still be searched, and life-giving doctrines de- rived from their statements. And is this no advantage 1 Is it no advantage, that salvation is brought within reach ; and does it nullify the advantage, that men will not stretch forth the hand to lay hold 1 And even if the mass of a nation, pri- vileged with the Bible, have their por- tion at last with the unbelieving, it must not be forgotten, that there is in every age a remnant who trust in the Savior whom that Bible reveals. The blessings which result from the possession of the Scriptures are not to be computed from what appears on the surface of society. There is a quiet under-current of hap- piness, Avhich is generally unobserved, but which greatly swells the amount of good to be traced to the Bible. You must go into families, and see how bur- dens are lightened, and afflictions miti- gated, by the promises of holy writ. You must follow men into their re- tirements, and learn how they gather strength, from the study of the sacred volume, for discharging the various duties of life. You must be with them in their struggles with poverty, and ob- serve how contentment is engendered by the prospect of riches which cannot fade away. You must be with them on their death-beds, and mark how the gloom of the opening grave is scattered by a hope which is " full of immorta- lity." And you must be with them — if indeed the spirit could be accompanied in its heavenward flight — as they enter the Divine presence, and prove, by tak- ing possession of the inheritance which the Bible offers to believers, that they " have not followed cunningly devised fables." The sum of happiness confer- red by revelation can never be known until God shall have laid open all se- crets at the judgment. We must have access to the history of every indivi- dual, from his childhood up to his en- tering his everlasting rest, ere we have the elements from which to compute what Christianity hath done for those who receive it into the heart. And if but one or two were gathered out from a people, as a result of conveying to that people the records of revelation, there would be, we may not doubt, such an amount of conferred benefit as would sufficiently prove the advan- tageousness of possessing the oracles of God. It shall not be in vain that God hath sent the Bible to a nation, and caused the truths of Christianity to be pub- lished within its borders. There may be what approximates to a general dis- regard of the Scriptures, and an univer- sal rejection of the offers of salvation. Yet God hath his hidden ones who are delighting greatly in his testimonies. When Elijah complained that he stood alone in the service of his Maker, the THE POSSESSION OF THE SCRIPTURES. 159 answer of God was, " I have reserved to myself seven thousand men who have not bowed the knee to the image of Baal." We are therefore, at the best, poor judges of the way actually made by the Gospel, and of the influence which it wields, whilst we see nothing on all sides but a spreading degenera- cy. When profligacy and infidelity are at their height, there may be many a roof beneath which is offered humble prayer through a Mediator, and many an eye which weeps in secret for dis- honors done to God, and many a heart which beats high with expectation of the land, " where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest." Are we not then bound in all cases, when seeking full evidence that the Bible has been a blessing whereso- ever imparted, to refer to the close of the dispensation, when Christ shall se- parate the tares from the wheat 1 Then will it be told to the universe, how a despised and overlooked company were " filled with joy unspeakable and full of glory," by the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Then will it be made manifest how the consolations of religion have pervaded many families, what anxieties they have soothed, what tears they have dried, what hopes they have commu- nicated. Then will it be seen, that, over ! and above the intellectual and moral I advantages which the Scriptures have i conferred on those who never took I them as their guide for eternity, spiri- tual advantages have been derived to others, who were stirred by their an- . nouncements from the lethargy of sin, and moved to flee for refuge to the cross of the Redeemer. Yea, and if it even came to pass that the great bulk of a people shrank away from the face of the Judge, beaten down by the con- sciousness that they had not trusted in him as the propitiation for their sins; yet would the few who were lifting up their heads with joy, be witnesses that revelation was the best boon which .God could bestow on a land — witness- es by the wrath which the Bible had taught them to escape, witnesses by the glory it had instructed them to Tain, that, in every case, and under all circumstances, it was a mighty advan- ;age to a people, that " unto them had >een committed the oracles of God." But we observed that the expression employed by the apostle, " chiefly be- cause that unto them were committed, or intrusted the oracles of God," re- presents the Jews as stewards who should have dispensed the Bible, and who might themselves have been pro- fited through conveying it to others. We are all aware that special promises are made in the Scriptures to those who shall be instrumental in turning many from darkness, and converting sinners from the error of their ways. We ordinarily apply these promises to individuals; and we expect them to be made good to the zealous minister, and the self-denying missionary. Undoubt- edly the application is just ; for we cannot question that those who have faithfully and successfully labored in winning souls to Christ, shall receive a portion of more than common brillian- cy, when the Master comes to reckon with his servants. But we know not why these promises would not have been as applicable to communities as to individuals, had communities re- garded God's oracles as a sacred de- posit, and themselves as stewards who must give an account of their distribu- tion. The earth has never yet present- ed the grand spectacle of what might be called a missionary nation, a people who felt that the true religion was held in trust for the benefit of the world, and who concentered their energies on the being faithful in the steward- ship. It cannot be said that the Jews did this, though, in spite of their fre- quent rebellions and lapses into idola- try, thej'^ were the leaven which pre- vented the complete decomposition of the world, and the light which alone re- lieved the ponderous moral darkness. It cannot be said that we ourselves have done this, whatever the efforts which have of late years been made for translating the Scriptures into the various languages, and conveying them to the various districts of the globe. There has been nothing which has ap- proached to a national recognition, and a national acting on the recognition, that God hath made this land the de- pository of his word, in order that we might employ those resources, which an unlimited commerce places at our disposal, in diff'using that word over the enormous wastes of paganism. It is not by the endeavors and actions 160 THE ADVANTAGES RESULTING FROM of private individuals that the nation- al stewardship can be faithfully dis- charged. A nation must act through its governors ; and then only would the na- tion prove its sense, that the oracles of God had been deposited with it in or- der to distribution through the world, when its governors made the conver- sion of the heathen one great object for which they legislated and labored. In this manner would a christian state occupy the same position amongst na- tions, as an affluent christian individual amongst the parishes and hamlets of a distressed neighborhood. Just as the individual counts it his business and privilege, to communicate of his tem- poral abundance to the inmates of sur- rounding cottages, so would the state count it its business and privilege to communicate of its spiritual abundance to the ignorant in surrounding territo- ries. And however little ground there may be for a hope that any christian state will step forward, and take to it- self the missionary character, we can be sure that the absence of all national effort to disseminate revelation is of- fensive in God's sight, and must sooner or later provoke retribution. The Bible is not given to a people exclusively for their own use. It is the food of the whole world, the volume from which whatever is human must draw the soul's sustenance. And no more right have a people to keep this book to themselves, whilst thousands in other lands are worn down by moral famine, than they would have to hoard the earth's fruits, if their own wants were supplied, and the cry of starving mul- titudes swept across the seas. Neither would the faithful discharge of the stewardship be without its re- ward. Our text affirms it for the ad- vantage of a people, that there have been deposited with them the oracles of God. We may conclude, therefore, that, in acting on the principle that the oracles are held in trust for the benefit of the world, a people would secure the recompense graciously annexed to the laboring to extend the kingdom of Christ. Who indeed that remembers that we live under an economy of strict retribution, and that nations can only be dealt Avith as nations on this side eternity, will see cause to doubt that the earnest discharge of what we call the national stewardship, would be the best means of advancing and upholding the national greatness ] Who can believe of a people circum- stanced like ourselves, that, in acting as stewards of the mysteries of God, we should erect a rampart against eve- ry enemy, and secure continued pro- gress in all that makes a kingdom mighty. There are mixed up with the dealings of commerce the grandest purposes of God towards this fallen creation. Every country might have been its own store-house of every ne- cessary and every luxury. It might have possessed within its own confines the productions of the whole globe, and thus have had but little motive to intercourse with other states. But, by diversifying his gifts, God hath made it for the profit of the world, that there should be constant interchange of pro- perty. Thus facilities are afforded for the communicatiorj of moral as well as physical advantages ; and commerce may become the great propagator of Christianity. And it strikes us as a beau- tiful arrangement, that it may have been with the express design of provid- ing that the true religion should spread its branches over the world, that God caused the palm-tree, and the citron- tree, to grow in one land and not in another ; and that, in order to bring the pearl of great price within reach of all, he may have given the gold to this district, and the diamond to that. And when the ocean is before us, dotted with vessels hastening to every quar- ter of the earth, or returning with the produce of far-off islands and conti- nents, we look on a nobler spectacle than that of human ingenuity and har- dihood triumphing over the elements, that wealth may be accumulated and appetite pampered — we are beholding the machinery through which God hath ordained that the sections of the hu- man family should be kept knit toge- ther, and the preparations which he hath made for the diffusion of Christi- anity, when the word shall be given, and '' great shall be the company of the preachers." It has not therefore been without a view to the mainte- nance of truth and the spread of reli- gion, that God hath given to this land the empire of the seas, and opened to it intercourse with every section of THE POSSESSION OF THE SCRIPTUKEE Ibl the globe. We rather believe that we have been made great in commerce, that we might be great in the diffusion of knowledge. With our fleets on eve- ry sea, and unbounded wealth accumu- lated in our cities, there needs nothing but that, as a nation, we should feel our accountableness, and rapidly might the records of revelation make their way through the world. And if we were thus instrumental to the spread of the Gospel, thus faithful to our steward- ship, it would not be foreign aggression, nor domestic insubordination, from which there would be danger to the land of our birth ; there would be per- manence in our might, because wield- ed in God's cause, and fixedness in our prosperity, because consecrated by pie- ty. And as glory and, greatness flowed in upon us, and the stewards of the Bi- ble stood forth as the sovereigns of the world, other causes of the elevation might indeed be assigned by the poli- tician and philosopher ; but the true reason would be with those who should give in explanation, " Chiefly because that unto them were committed the oracles of God." I may here refer for a moment to that charitable cause for which I am directed to ask your support. It must be sufiicient to remind you, intrusted I as you are with the Bible, that there i are hundreds of children in this town j requiring to be educated in the princi- 1 pies of the Bible, and you will contri- I'jbute liberally towards upholding the schools which now make their usual appeal to your bounty. There have been times when it v/as necessary to debate and demonstrate the duty of providing instruction for the children Jof the poor. Such times are gone. We have now no choice. He were as wise a man who should think to roll back [the Atlantic, as he who would stay the advancing tide of intelligence which is pressing through the land. You cannot, f you would. And I do not believe ;here is one here who would lift a fin- fer in so unrighteous an enterprise. ilere, if any where, a man may glory n that general outstretching of the hu- nan mind which is characteristic of he times ; and rejoice in the fact, that n knowledge, and mental develope- nent, the lower classes are following o close on the higher, that these latter must go on with a vigorous stride, if they would not be quickly overtaken. It is not in such a seat of learning as this, that we shall find dislike to the spread of information. Knowledge is a generous and communicative thing, and jealousy at its progress is ordina- rily the index of its wants. You would not, if you could, arrest the progress of education. But you may provide that the education shall be christian education. You may thus ensure that education shall be a blessing, not a curse ; and save the land from being covered with that wildest and most un- manageable of all populations, a popu- lation mighty alike in intellect and un- godliness, a population that knows eve- ry thing but God, emancipated from all ignorance but that which is sure to breed the worst lawlessness, ignorance of the duties of the religion of Christ. An uneducated population may be de- graded ; a population educated, but not in righteousness, will be ungovernable. The one may be slaves, the other must be tyrants. We have now only, in conclusion, to express an earnest hope that we may all learn, from the subject discussed, to set a higher value than ever on the Scriptures. Do we receive the Bible as '' the oracles of GodV The Bible is as actually a divine communication as though its words came to us in the voice of the Almighty, mysteriously syllabled, and breathed from the firma- ment. What awe, what reverence, what prostration of soul, would attend the persuasion that such is the Bible ; so that opening it is like entering the hal- lowed haunt of Deity, whence unearth- ly lips Avill breathe oracular responses. There needs nothing but an abiding conviction that Scripture remains, what it was at the first, the Avord of the liv- ing God — not merely a written thing, but a spoken ; as much a mes^sage now as when originally delivered — and the volume will be perused, as it ought to be, in humility, yet in hope, with prayer, yet with confidence. And when God is regarded as always speaking to his creatures through the volume of reve- lation, there will be no marvel that, practically, this volume should be in- fluential on the moral and mental, the temporal as well as eternal, interests of man. " The voice of the Lord," saith 21 162 NEGLECT OF THE GOSPEL FOLLOWED BY ITS REMOVAL. the Psalmist, " is upon the waters ; the voice of the Lord divideth the flames of fire :" and well therefore may this voice correct the disorders of states, and fan the sparks of genius, as well as summon from the perishable, and guide to the immortal. SERMON IV. NEGLECT OF THE GOSPEL FOLLOWED BY ITS REMOVAL, " Remember therefore from whence thou art fallen, and repent, and do the first works ; or else I ' will come unto thee quickly, and will remove thy candlestick out of his place, except ihou re- pent." — Revelation, 2 ; 5. In our last discourse we endeavored to set before you the advantages re- sulting from the possession of God's oracles : the words which we have just read will lead us to speak of dangers produced by their neglect. The text contains an exhortation, and a threat- ening, with which we have evidently as great concern, as had the church of Ephesus to which they were originally addressed. The exhortation — an ex- hortation to repentance — is one which Ave shall do well to apply to ourselves ; the threatening — a threatening that the candlestick shall be removed — may take effect in our own days as well as in earlier. Now there are few duties to which men are more frequently urged, and in regard to which, nevertheless, they are more likely to be deceived, than the great duty of repentance. It is of the first importance, that the exact place and nature of this duty should be accurately defined ; for so long as there" is any thing of misapprehension, or mistake, in regard to repentance, there can be no full appreciation of the prof- fered mercies of the Gospel. It seems to be too common an opinion, that re- pentance is a kind of preparation, or preliminary, which men are in a great degree to effect for themselves before they can go to Christ as a mediator and propitiation. Repentance is regard- ed as a something which they have to do, a condition they have to perform, in order that they may be fitted to ap- ply to the Redeemer, and ask a share in the blessings which he purchased for mankind. We do not, of course, deny that there must be repentance before there can be forgiveness; and that it is only to the broken and con- trite heart that Christ extends the fruits of his passion. We say to every man who may be inquiring as to the pardon of sin, except you repent you cannot be forgiven. But the question is, whe- ther a man must wait till he has re- pented before he applies to Christ j whether repentance is a preliminary which he has to effect, ere he may venture to seek to a mediator. And it is here, as we think, that the mistake lies, a mistake which turns repentance into a kind of obstacle between the sin- ner and Christ. The scriptural doctrine in regard to repentance is not, that a man must re- pent in order to his being qualified to go to Christ ; it is rather, that he must go to Christ in order to his being en- abled to repent. And the difference between these propositions is manifest and fundamental. There would be no NEGLECT OF THE GOSPEL FOLLOWED BY ITS REMOVAL. 163 virtue in our repentance, even if we could repent of ourselves, to recom- mend us to the favor of the Eedeemer ; but there goes forth virtue from the Redeemer himself, strengthening us for that repentance which is alone ge- nuine and acceptable. St. Peter suffi- ciently laid down this doctrine, when he said of Christ to the high priest and Sadducees, '' him hath God exalted with his right hand to be a Prince and a Savior, for to give repentance to Is- rael, and forgiveness of sins." Here re- pentance is stated to be as much the gift of the glorified Christ as forgive- ness — a statement inconsistent with the notion, that repentance is some- thing which must be effected without Christ, as a ground on which to rest our application to him for pardon. We rather gather from these words of the apostle, that we can no more repent without Christ than be pardoned with- out Christ: from him comes the grace of contrition as well as the cleansino- of expiation. There may indeed be the abandon- ment of certain vicious practices, and a breaking loose from habits which have held the soul in bondage. Long ere the man thinks of applying to Christ, and whilst almost a stranger to his name, he may make a great advance in refor- mation of conduct, renouncing much which his conscience has declared wrong, and entering upon duties of which he has been neglectful. But this comes far short of that thorough mor- al change which is intended by the inspired writers, when they speak of repentance. The outward conduct may be amended, whilst no attack is made on the love of sin as seated in the heart ; so that the change may be altogether on the surface, and extend not to the affections of the inner man. But the repentance, required of those who are forgiven through Christ, is a radical change of mind and of spirit ; a change which will be made apparent by a cor- responding in the outward deportment, but whose great scene is within, and which there affects every power and propensity of our nature. And a re- pentance such as this, seeing it mani- festly lies beyond the reach of our own strivings, is only to be obtained from Christ, who ascended up on high, and "received gifts for the rebellious," be- coming, in his exaltation, the source and dispenser of those various assist- ances which fallen beings need as pro- bationers for eternity. What then is it which a man has to do who is desirous of becoming truly repentant 1 We reply that his great business is earnest prayer to Christ, that he would give him the Holy Spir- it, to enable him to repent. Of course we do not mean that he is to confine himself to prayer, and make no effort at correcting what may be wrong in his conduct. The sincerity of his pray- er can only be proved by the vigor of his endeavor to obey God's commands. But we mean, that, along with his stren- uousness in renouncing evil habits and associations, there must be an abiding persuasion that repentance, as well as forgiveness, is to be procured through nothing but the atoning sacrifice of Christy and this persuasion must make him unwearied in entreaty, that Christ would send into his soul the renovating power. It may be urged that Christ pardons none but the penitent ; but our statement rather is, that those whom he pardons he first makes penitent. And shall we be told that we thus reduce man below the level of an in- telligent, accountable being ; making him altogether passive, and allotting him no task in the struggle for immor- tality 1 We throw back the accusation as altogether unfounded. We call upon man for the stretch of every muscle, and the strain of every power. As to his being saved in indolence, saved in inactivity, he may as well look for har- vest where he has never sown, and for knowledge where he has never studied. Is it to be an idler, is it to be a slug- gard, to have to keep down that pride which would keep him from Christ; to be wrestling with those passions which the light that is in him shows must be mortified; to be unwearied in petition for the assistances of the Spirit, and in using such helps as have been already vouchsafed 1 If this be idleness, that man is an idler who is actuated by the consciousness, that he can no more re- pent than 'be pardoned without Christ. But if it be to task a man to the utmost of his energy, to prescribe that he go straightway for every thing which he needs to an invisible Mediator; go, in spite of the opposition of the flesh ; go, 164 NEGLECT OF THE GOSPEL FOLLOWED BY ITS REMOVAL. though the path lies through resisting inclinations ; go, though in going he must abase himself in the dust, and proclaim his own nothingness 5 then we are exhorting the impenitent to the mightiest of labors, when we exhort them to seek repentance as Christ's gift. The assigning its true place to repentance ; the destroying the notion that repentance is to be effected for ourselves, and then to recommend us to the Savior ; this, in place of telling men that they have little or nothing to do, is the urging them to diligence by showing how it may be successful ; and to effort, by pointing out the alone channel through which it can prevail. And if there be given to the angel of a church the same commission as was given to the angel of the church at Ephesus, so that he must come down upon a careless or backsliding congre- gation with a stern and startling sum- mons ; never let it be thought that he either keeps out of sight the moral inabilities of man, or urges to an inert and idle dependance, when he expati- ates on the necessity, and exhorts to the duty, of repentance — he is preach- ing that Christ is all in all, and never- theless he is animating his hearers to strive for the mastery, and struggle for deliverance, when he entreats them in tlie words of our text, to "remember from whence they are fallen, and re- pent, and do the first works." But there is more in this exhortation than the summons to repentance: me- mory is appealed to as an assistant in the duty to which men are called. In other parts of Scripture we find great worth attached to consideration — as when the Psalmist says, " I thought on my ways, and turned my feet to thy testimonies." Here the turning to God's testimonies is given by David as an immediate consequence on the thinking on his ways, as though con- sideration were alone necessary to in- sure a speedy repentance. The great evil with the mass of men is, that, so far at least as eternity is concerned, they never think at all — once make them think, and you make them anx- ious ; once make them anxious, and they will labor to be saved. When a man considers his ways, angels may be said to prepare their harps, as know- ing that they shall soon have to sweep them in exultation at his repentance. And it is urging you to this consid- eration, to urge you to the remember- ing from whence you are fallen. We all know what a power there is in me- mory, when made to array before the guilty days and scenes of comparative innocence. It is with an absolutely crushing might that the remembrance of the years and home of his' boy- hood will come upon the criminal, when brought to a pause in his career of mis- doing, and perhaps about to suffer its penalties. If we knew his early histo- ry, and it would bear us out in the at- tempt, we should make it our business to set before him the scenery of his na- tive village, the cottage where he was born, the school to which he was sent, the church where he first heard the preached Gospel; and we should call to his recollection the father and the mother, long since gathered to their rest, who made him kneel down night and morning, and who instructed him out of the Bible, and who warned him, even with tears, against evil ways and evil companions. We should remind him how peacefully his days then gli- ded away ; with how much of happi- ness he was blessed in possession, how much of hope in prospect. And he may be now a hardened and desperate man : but we will never believe, that, as his young days were thus passing before him, and the reverend forms of his pa- rents came back from the grave, and the trees that grew round his birth- place waved over him their foliage, and he saw himself once more as he was in early life, when he knew crime but by name, and knew it only to abhor — we will never believe that he could be proof against this mustering of the past — he might be proof against invective, proof against reproach, proof against remon- strance ; but when we brought memo- ry to bear upon him, and bade it peo- ple itself with all the imagery of youth, we believe that, for the moment at least, the obdurate being would be sub- dued, and a sudden gush of tears prove that we had opened a long sealed-up fountain. And we know no reason why there should not be a like power in memory, in cases which have no analogy with this, except in the general fact, that men are not what they were. If we ar- NSGLECT OF THE GOSPEL FOLLOWED BY ITS REMOVAL. 165 ray before us the records of man's pris- tine condition, and avail ourselves of such intelligence as it hath pleased God to vouchsafe, we may with sufficient truth be said to remember whence we fell. And very energetic and persua- sive would be this remembrance. We should feel that we were gaining a great moral hold on a man, if we pre- vailed on him to contrast what he is, with what Adam was ere he ate the forbidden fruit. It is a contrast which must produce the sense of utter degra- dation. The waving trees of Paradise, and the glorious freshness of the young creation, and the unrestrained inter- course with God, and the beautiful tran- quillity of human life — these -will make the same kind of appeal, as the fields where we played in our boyhood, and the roof which sheltered us whilst yet untutored in the vices, and unblench- ed by the sorrows of the world. I was by creation a lofty being, with a com- prehensive understanding, a will that always moved in harmony with the di- vine, and affections that fastened on the sublime and indestructible. I am, through apostacy, a wayward thing, with crippled energies, contracted ca- pacities, and desires engrossed by the perishable. I had a body that was heir to no decay, a soul rich in the impress of Deity ; but now I must go down to the dust, and traces of the defaced image are scarcely to be found on my spirit. I had heaven before me, and might have entered it through an obe- dience which could hardly be called a trial 5 but now, depraved in inclination, and debased in power, to what can I look forward but tvibulation and wrath 1 Oh, this it is to remember from whence I am fallen. And if I have been, like the Ephe- sian Church, what Scripture calls a backslider, may not memory tell me of comforts I experienced, when walking closely with God, of seasons of deep gladness when I had mortified a pas- sion, of communion with eternity so I real and distinct that 1 seemed already I' delivered from the trammels of fleshl It may well be, if indeed I have de- (iiclined in godliness, that, though mu- V sing on past times, there will be ex- cited within me a poignant regret. There will come back upon me, as upon the criminal in his cell, the holy music of better days ; and there will be a pe- netrating power in the once gladdening but iiow melancholy strain, which there would not be in the shrill note of ven- geance. And thus in each case, memo- ry may be a mighty agent in bringing me to repentance. It can scarcely come to pass, that I should diligently and se- riously remember whence I am fallen, and yet be conscious of no desire to regain the lost position. I cannot gaze on Paradise, and not long to leave the wilderness; I cannot see in myself the wanderer, and not yearn for the home I have forsaken. And therefore is there a beautiful appropriateness in the mes- sage with which St. John was charged to the angel of the church at Ephesus. We know that except men repent, ex- cept the indifferent be roused to earn- estness, the backsliding recovered to consistency, nothing can prevent their final destruction. And wishing to bring them to repentance, we would waken memory from her thousand cells, and bid her pour forth the imagery of what they were, that they may contrast it with what they are. If we can arm against them their ovra recollections, we feel that we shall have brought to bear the most powerful of engines. Our appeal is therefore to the past, our sum- mons is to the shades of the dead. And though we know that no remonstrance, and no exhortation, can be of avail, ex- cept as carried to the heart by the Spi- rit of the living God, yet are we so per- suaded of the power of consideration, and of the likelihood that those who are brought to consider their ways will go on to reform them, that we think we prescribe what cannot fail of success, when, in order that men may repent, we entreat them, in the words of our text, to remember from whence they are fallen, and do the first works. But we turn from the exhortation to the threatening contained in our text, " I will come unto thee quickly, and will remove thy candlestick out of his place, except thou repent." It is not difficult to determine what the calami- ty is which is figuratively denoted by the removal of the candlestick. St. John had beheld one like unto the Son of man, magnificently and mysterious- ly arrayed," standing in the midst of seven golden candlesticks, and hold- ing in his right hand seven stars. The 166 NEGLECT OF THE GOSPEL FOLLOWED BY ITS REMOVAL. evangelist is expressly informed that the seven stars are the angels, or bi- shops, of the seven churches; and that the seven candlesticks are those churches themselves. Hence the can- dlestick represents the christian church as erected in any land; and therefore the removing the candlestick out of his place can mean nothing less than the unchurching a nation, the so withdraw- ing from them the Gospel that they shall lose the distinctive marks of a christian community. We need not be over-careful as to the exactness with which we preserve the metaphor. If the candlestick be removed, the mean- ing must be that the spiritual light is removed ; or that a land Avhich has been blessed with a knowledge of Chris- tianity, and thereby brought specially into covenant with God, is deprived of the advantages which it has failed to improve, and dislodged from the re- lationship into which it had been ad- mitted. And this may take place, for undoubt- edly this has taken place. There are indeed clear and encouraging promises in Scripture, sufficient to assure us that neither outward opposition, nor inward corruption, shall prevail to the extinc- tion of Christ's church upon earth. But these promises refer generally to the church, and not to this or that of its sections. They give no ground for ex- pecting that the church, for example, of England, or the church of Rome, will never cease to be a church — on the contrary, their tenor is quite com- patible with the supposition, that Eng- land or Rome may so pervert, or abuse, the Gospel, as to provoke God to with- draw it, and give it to lands now over- run with heathenism. There may be, and there are, promises that there shall be always a candle in the world ; but the candlestick is a moveable thing, and may be placed successively in dif- ferent districts of the earth. And we say that this unchurching of a nation is what has actually occurred, and what therefore may occur again, if mercies be abused, and privileges ne- glected. We appeal to the instance of the Jews. The Jews constituted the church of God, whilst all other tribes of the human population Avere stran- gers and aliens. And never were a peo- ple more beloved ; never had a nation greater evidences of divine favor on which to rest a persuasion that they should not be cast off and deprived of their advantages. Yet how completely has the candlestick been removed from Judea. The land of Abraham, and of Isaac, and of Jacob ; the land which held the ark with its mysterious and sacramental treasures ; the land where priests made atonement, and prophets delivered their lofty anticipations; the land which Jesus trode, where Jesus preached, and where Jesus died ; has been tenanted for centuries by the un- believer, profaned by the followers, and desecrated by the altars, of the Arabian impostor. We appeal again to the early church- es. Where are those christian socie- ties to which St. Paul and St. John in- scribed their epistles 1 Where is the Corinthian church, so affectionately addressed, though so boldly reproved, by the great apostle of the Gentiles ? Where is the Philippian church, where the Colossian, where the Thessaloni- an, the letters to which prove how cordially Christianity had been receiv- ed, and how vigorously it flourished'? Where are the Seven Churches of Asia, respecting which we are assured that they were once strenuous in piety, and gave promise of permanence in chris- tian profession and privilege ? Alas, how true is it that the candlesticks have been removed. Countries in which the Gospel was first planted, cities where it took earliest root, from these have all traces of Christianity long ago disappeared, and in these has the cross been supplanted by the crescent. The traveller through lands where apostles won their noblest victories, where mar- tyrs witnessed a good confession, and thousands sprang eagerly forwards to be " baptized for the dead," and to fill up every breach which persecution made in the christian ranks, can scarce find a monument to assure him that he stands where once congregated the fol- lowers of Jesus. Every where he is surrounded by superstitions little bet- ter than those of heathenism, so that the unchurching of these lands has been the giving them up to an Egyp- tian darkness. And what are we to say of such facts, except that they prove — prove with a clearness and awfulness of demonstration, which leave ignorance NEGLECT OF THE GOSPEL FOLLOWED BY ITS REMOVAL. 167 inexcusable, and indifference self-con- demned — that the blessings of Chris- tianity are deposited with a nation to be valued and improved, and that to despise or misuse them is to provoke their withdrawment % If we could trace the histories of the several churches to which we have referred, we should find that they all "left their first love," grew lukewarrh in religion, or were daunted by danger into apostacy. There was no lack of warning, none of exhor- tation ; for it is never suddenly, never without a protracted struggle, that God proceeds to extremes, whether with a church or an individual. But warning and exhortation were in vain. False teachers grew into favor ; false doc- trines superseded the true ; with erro- neous tenets came their general ac- companiment, dissolute practice ; till at length, if the candlestick remained, the light was extinct ; and then God gave the sentence, that the candlestick should be removed out of his place. And never let it be thought that such sentence is of no very terrible and de- solating character. Come foreign in- vasion, come domestic insubordination, come famine, come pestilence. Come any evil rather than the unchurching which is threatened in our text. It is the sorest thing which God can do against a land. He himself represents it as such, Avhen sending messages of wo by the mouth of his servant Amos. '' Behold the days come, saith the Lord God, that I will send a famine in the land, not a famine of bread, nor a thirst for water, but of hearing the words of the Lord." The blasting the fruits of the earth, so that the valleys should not yield their accustomed abundance — this would be a fearful thing, but there was to be something more fear- ful than this. The drying up the foun- tains, and the cutting off the streams — this would be a grievous dispensation, but there was to be something more grievous than this. The suspension of all messages from heaven, the cessa- tion of that intercourse which bad sub- sisted between the people and God, the removal of the light of revelation — this was the threatened evil, which would make comparatively inconsiderable the dearth of the bread, and the want of the water. Every other calamity may be sent in mercy, and have for its de- sign the correction, and not the de- struction, of its subjects. But this ca- lamity has none of the character of a fatherly chastisement. It shows that God has done with a people ; that he will no longer strive with them ; but that henceforwards he gives them up to their own wretched devices. And, therefore, with the removal of the Gospel must be the departure of whatever is most precious in the pos- sessions of a people. It is not merely that Christianity is taken away — though who shall measure, who imagine, the loss, if this were indeed alii — but it is that God must frown on a land from which he hath been provoked to with- draw his Gospel ; and that, if the frown of the Almighty rest on a country, the sun of that country's greatness goes rapidly down, and the dreariness of a moral midnight fast gathers above it, and around it. Has it not been thus with countries, and with cities, to which we have already referred, and from which, on account of their iniquities and impieties, the candlestick has been removed 1 The seven Churches of Asia, where are the cities whence they drew their names ; cities that teemed with inhabitants, that were renowned for arts, and which served as centres of civilization to far-spreading districts'? Did the unchurching these cities leave them their majesty and prosperity ; did the removal of the candlestick leave undimmed their political lustre 1 Ask the traveller who gropes painfully his way over prostrate columns, and be- neath crumbling arches, having no in- dex but ruins to tell him that a king- dom's dust is under his feet ; and en- deavoring to assure himself, from the magnitude of the desolation, that he has found the site of a once splendid metropolis! The cities, with scarce an exception, wasted from the day when the candlestick was removed, and grew into monuments — monuments whose marble is decay, and whose inscription devastation — telling out to all succeed- ing ages, that the readiest mode in which a nation can destroy itself, is to despise the Gospel with which it has been intrusted, and that the most fear- ful vial which God can empty on a land, is that which extinguishes the blessed shinings of Christianity. Oh, it may be the thought of those 168 NEGLECT OF THE GOSPEL FOLLOWED BY ITS KEMOVAL. who care little for the Gospel, and who have never opened their hearts to its gracious communications, that it would be no overwhelming calamity, if God fulfilled his threat, and removed the candlestick out of his place. They may think that the springs of national pros- perity, and national happiness, would be left untouched ; and that the un- churched people might still have their fleets on every sea, still gather into their lap the riches of the earth, and sit undisturbed a sovereign among the na- tions. I know not how far such might be actually the case. I know not how far the conquests or the commerce of a country might remain unaffected by the loss of its Christianity. But this I know, that God's blessing could no longer rest on its victories, or accom- pany its trade ; and that, therefore, if its armies triumphed, the triumph would be virtually defeat ; and if its ships were richly freighted, it would be with fruits, which, like the fabled ones from the Dead Sea's shore, turn to ashes in the mouth. No, we again say, come any thing rather than this. Come bar- renness into our soil ; come discord into our councils; come treason into our camps; come wreck into our na- vies — but' let us not be unchurched as a nation. We may be beloved of God, and He may have purposes of mercy towards us, Vv'hilsthe takes from us our temporal advantages, but still leaves us our spiritual. He may be only disciplin- ing us as a parent; and the discipline proves, not merely that there is need, but that there is room for repentance. But if we were once deprived of the Gospel ; if the Bible ceased to circulate amongst our people ; if there were no longer the preaching of Christ in our churches ; if we were left to set up reason instead of revelation, to bow the knee to the God of our own ima- ginations, and to burn unhallowed in- cense before the idols which the mad- ness of speculation would erect — then farewell, a long farewell, to all that has given dignity to our state, and happi- ness to our homes ; the true founda- tions of true greatness would be all un- dermined, the bulwarks of real liberty shaken, the springs of peace poisoned, the sources of prosperity dried up ; and'a coming generation would have to add our name to those of countries whose national decline has kept pace with their religious, and to point to our fate as exhibiting the awful com- prehensiveness of the threat, "I will come unto thee quickly, and will re- move thy candlestick out of his place, except thou repent." But we rejoice in pronouncing this a doom, respecting which we do not augur a likelihood that it will fall on this kingdom. There may have been periods in the history of this land, when the upholders of true religion had cause for gloomy forebodings, and for fears that God would unchurch our nation. And some indeed may be dis- posed to regard the present as a period when such forebodings and fears mio-ht be justly entertained. They may think that so great is the array of hostility against the national church, that the most sanguine can scarce venture to hope that the candlestick will not be cast down. We cannot subscribe to this opinion. We are not indeed blind to the amount of opposition to the national church ; neither have we the least doubt that the destruction of this church would give a fatal blow to the national Christianity. We dare not indeed say that God might not preserve amongst us a pure Christianity, if the national church were overthrown. But we are bold to affirm, that hitherto has the church been the grand engine in efiect- ing such preservation ; and that we should have no right to expect, if we dislocated this engine,- that results would not follow disastrous to reli- gion. I could not contend for the Es- tablished Church, merely because ven- erable by its antiquity, because hal- lowed by the solemn processions of noble thought which have issued from its recesses, or because the prayers and praises which many generations have breathed through its services, seem mysteriously to haunt its tem- ples, that they may be echoed by the tongues of the living. But as the great safeguard and propagator of unadulter- ated Christianity ; the defender, by her articles, of Avhat is sound in doctrine, and, by her constitution, of what is apos- tolic in government; the represser, by the simple majesty of her ritual, of all extravagance ; the encourager, by its fervor, of an ardent piety — I can con- tend for the continuance amongst us NEGLECT OF THE GOSPEL FOLLOWED BY ITS REMOVAL. 1G9 of the Establishment, as I would for the continuance of the Gospel ; I can deprecate its removal as the removal of our candlestick. It is not then be- cause we are blind to the opposition to the national church, or fail to identify this church with the national Christi- anity, that we share not the fears of those who would now prophesy evil. But we feel that danger is only bring- ing out the strength of the church, and that her efficiency has increased as her existence has been menaced. The threatening of our text belongs to the lukewarm and the indolent ; its very language proves that it ceases to be applicable, if it have fanned the em- bers, and strung the energies. We believe of an apostolic church, that it can die only by suicide ; and where are our fears of suicide, when enmity has but produced greater zeal in win- ning souls to Christ, and hatred been met by increased efforts to disseminate the religion of love 1 We might not have ventured to in- troduce these observations, in conclud- ing our discourses before this assem- bly, had we not felt that the church stands or falls with the imiversities of the land, and that the present condition of this university more than warrants our belief that the candlestick is not about to be removed. It is a gratifica- tion, not to be expressed, to find, after a few years' absence, what a growing attention there has been to those no- blest purposes for which colleges were founded ; and how the younger part, more especially, of our body, whence are to be drafted the ministers of our parishes, and the most influential of our laity, have advanced in respect for religion, and attention to its duties. One who has been enfT'aged in other scenes may perhaps better judge the advance than those under whose eye it has proceeded ; and if testimony may derive worth fxom its sincerity, when it cannot from the station of the party who gives it, there will be borne strong witness by him who addresses you, that not only is the fire of genius here cherished, and the lamp of philosophy trimmed ; but that here the candle, which God hath lighted for a world sitting in darkness, burns brightly, and that, therefore, though enemies may be fierce, the candlestick is firm. But suffer me, my younger brethren, to entreat you that you would think more and more of your solemn respon- sibility. I cannot compute the amount of influence you may wield over the destinies of the church and the coun- try. In a few years you Vv^ill be scat- tered over the land, occupying differ- ent stations, and filling different parts in society. And it is because we hope you will go hence with religion in the heart, that we venture to predict good, and not evil. We entreat you to take heed that you disappoint not the hope, and thus defeat the prediction. We could almost dare to say that you have the majesty, and the Christianity, of the empire in your keeping ; and we be- seech you, therefore, to " flee youthful lusts," as you would the plots of trea- son, and to follow the high biddings of godliness, as you would the trumpet- call of patriotism. Your vices, they must shake the candlestick, Avhich God in his mercy hath planted in this land, and with whose stability he has asso- ciated the greatness of the sta'te, and the happiness of its families. But your quiet and earnest piety ; your submis- sion to the precepts of the Gospel; your faithful discharge of appointed duties; these will help to give fixed- ness to the candlestick — and there may come the earthquake of political con- vulsion, or the onset of infidel assault, but Christianity shall not be overthrown; and we shall therefore still know that "the Lord of Hosts is with us, that the God of Jacob is our refuge." 22 SPITAL SERMON. This Sermon was preached according to annual custom, in commemoration of five several Ho». pitals in London. Their several Annual Reports were read in the course of the Sermon, as indicated \ by a line drawn across the page towards the end. * SERMON. For ye have the poor always with you, but me ye have not always." — Matthew, 26 ; 11. With a heart full of the remembrance of the mercy which had been shown to her family, did Mary, the sister of La- zarus, approach and pour ointment over the head of the Redeemer. Not yet sufficiently taught that Christ was to be honored by the consecration of the best of our substance, the disciples murmured at what they thought waste, and called forth from the Savior a vin- dication of the act. He pronounced it possessed of a kind of prophetical power ; and glancing onwards to that ignominious death, whereby the world's redemption was about to be achieved, declared that it had been done for his burial, and thus represented it as the produce of that affection which pays eagerly the last honors to one most cherished and revered. Whether or no there had been given intimation to Mary of the near ap- proach of the final scenes of Christ's ministration, does not appear from the scriptural record. It is evident, how- ever, that Christ grounds his defence of her conduct mainly on the fact, that his crucifixion was at hand, making the proximity of that stupendous event a sufficient reason for the course which she had followed. Thus, in conformity with the manner of teaching which he always pursued, that of extracting from passing occurrences the material of some spiritual admonition, he takes occasion, from the pouring out of the ointment, to deliver a truth which l)ath about it all the unction of divinity. We allow that, on its original delivery, our text had a decided reference to exist- ent circumstances ; but we still eon- tend that, in the fulness of its mean- ing, it is as forcible to ourselves as it was to Mary and the apostles. There was, indeed, a contrast implied in the first instance, which, we thank God, can no longer be urged, a contrast be- tween the presence of Christ as vouch- safed to his church, and that same pre- sence for a while withdrawn. The hea- vens have received the Savior until the times of the restitution of all things; but though with our bodily eyes we behold him not, we know^ that he is never absent from the assemblies of his people, but that "Avhere two or three are met together in his name, there is he in the midst of them." Until the Kedeemer had won to him- self, by his agony and his passion, the mighty title of "Head over all things to the Church," — a title which belongs to him not so much by the rights of his essential deity, as through virtue of his having entered into humanity, and pre- sented it, in obedience and suffering, to the Creator — he could not put forth those gracious communications which aPITAL SEKMON. 171 supply the place of a visible presence. Hence it must have come necessarily to pass, that any allusion to his remo- val from earth would bring a cloud over the minds of his disciples, since it was only from the headship to which I have adverted that they could derive those influences which teach the spiritual na- ture of Christ's kingdom. To the dis- ciples, therefore, we again say, there was a contrast in the text Avhich can scarcely be said to exist to ourselves. We are indeed looking forwards, un- less we live most basely below our privileges, to a season when, after a manner infinitely more glorious than any which past ages have seen, the presence of the Redeemer shall be granted to his people. We know that the Bible hath painted, with all the power of splendid diction, a period at which the bridegroom shall return, and gathering triumphantly his elect from the four corners of the earth, unite them to himself in a visible and inde- structible union. But whilst we attempt no denial that, ever since the ascension of Christ, the church hath been placed in what may fitly be called a widowed estate, we may still justly maintain, that the argument, from contrast which our text exhibits, was of local and tem- porary power. We have Christ with us in such real and glorious manifesta- tions, as no apostle could have con- ceived of previously to the effusions of he Spirit. And in place of that carnal calculation which would detach the lead from the members, and decide hat no ministrations can be rendered Christ, unless he move amongst us n the garniture of flesh, we have learn- ; d from the fuller disclosures of the TOspel. that the Savior is succored in he persons of his followers, so that aving the poor always with us, we al- ays have Christ on whom to shed the nointings of our love. If there were ot, then, some general lessons couch- d under the limited assertion of the ;xt, there would be but little in these ords of Christ to interest the man of ter generations. We could merely irvey them as possessed originally of plaintive and touching beauty, so that ey must have fallen on the disciples' ' rs with all that melancholy softness 'tiich arrays the dying words of those '3 best love. We could only regard them as exquisitely calculated to thrill through the hearts of the hearers, fix- ing, as they must have done, their thoughts on a separation which seem- ed to involve the abandonment of their dearest expectations, and to throw to the ground those hopes of magnificent empire which the miracles of Christ Jesus had aroused Avithin them. But the words are not thus to be con- fined in their application, and if we sweep out of view the incidents which give rise to their delivery, we may ex- tract from them lessons well suited to sundry occasions, and to none more emphatically than to the present. We are assembled to commemorate the foundation of certain noble institu- tions, which stand amongst the chief of those which shed honor on the land of our birth. And I see not how such commemoration can be better effected, or how that benevolence, upon which these illustrious institutions depend, can be more encouraged to go on with its labors, than by our searching into the bearings of the fact that " the poor we have always with us," remembering at the same time, that in ministering to them for the love of Christ, we as literally minister to the Redeemer him- self, as if he also were always visibly with us. The subject matter of discourse is thus opened before us, I take the as- sertion " ye have the poor always with you," as one which, whilst it propheti- cally asserts the unvarying continuance of poverty amongst men, leads us at- tentively to ponder on the ends which that continuance subserves ; and then I turn to the fact that the head is al- ways present amongst us in the mem- bers, and use it as a motive to the sup- port of establishments which seek to alleviate distress. Such are our two topics of discourse ; the ends which the continuance of pov- erty has subserved, — the motives to be- nevolence which the presence of Christ supplies. Now it is much to receive an assu- rance from the Redeemer himself that the poor we are always to have with us ; for we may hence justly conclude that poverty is not, what it hath been termed, an unnatural estate, but rather one appointed to exist by the will of the Almighty. It hath ever been a favorite 172 SPITAL SEEHON. subject of popular harangue, that there ought to come an equalization of the ranks of society, and that the diversity of condition which characterizes our species is a direct violation of what are proudly termed the rights of man. We allow it to be most easy to work up a stirring declamation, carrying along with it the plaudits of the multitude, v/hensoever the doctrine is propound- ed, that one man possesses the same natural claims as another to the riches which Providence hath scattered over the earth. The doctrine is a specious doctrine, but we hold it to be undenia- bly an unscriptural doctrine. We hold it to be clear to every fair student of the word of inspiration, that God hatli irrevocably determined that the fabric of human society shall consist of suc- cessive stages or platforms ; and that it falls never within the scope of his dispensations, that earthly allotments should be in any sense uniform. We are to have the poor always with us, and that too because the Creator hath so willed it, rather than because the crea- ture hath introduced anomalies into the system. And therefore do we likewise hold, that every attempt at equalization is tantamount to direct rebellion against the appointments of heaven — it is nei- ther more nor less than an effort to set aside the declared purposes of Jeho- vah ; and never do we believe it can be aimed at in any land, unless infidelity go first, that stanch standard-bearer of anarchy, and leap upon our altars in or- der that it may batter at our thrones. The principle which seems now intro- ducing itself into the politics of Europe, and which is idolized as the Nebuchad- nezzar image of the day — the principle that all power should emanate from the people — may be hailed and cheered by the great body of mankind ; but it is an unsound principle, for it is palpably an unscriptural principle, — the scriptu- ral doctrine being that Christ is the Head of all rule and all authority, and that from the Head power is conveyed to his vicegerents upon earth : and 1 leave you to judge (and I speak thus out of reverence to the Bible, and not out of deference to the magistracy be- fore whom I stand) what accordance there can be between this doctrine and that which has been set up as the Da- gon of the age, seeing that the one makes power descend from above, whilst the other represents it as spring- ing from beneath. We thus argue, that seeing it to be the appointment of heaven that we should '' have the poor always with us," the duty of submission may be learnt from the continuance of poverty, and that God hath so mysteriously inter- woven the motives to obedience with the causes of dissatisfaction, that a man must first brave the wrath by scorning the will of his Maker, before he can adventure on the tearing down the institutions of society. But there are other, and those more obvious ends, which this continuance of poverty hath subserved. Let me pre- mise, that although there is a broad line of demarcation, separating the higher from the lower classes of so- ciety, the points of similarity are vast- ly more numerous than the points of distinction. We are told in the Book of Proverbs, that " the rich and po6r meet together, the Lord is the Maker of them all." Where is it, I pray you, that they thus meet ] Descended from one common ancestor, the rich and poor meet before God on the wide level of total apostacy. This may be a hard doctrine, but nevertheless I would not that the ear should turn away from its truth. Intellect doth sever between man and man, and so doth learning, and outward honor, and earthly fortune, and there may appear no intimate link of association connecting the posses-, sors of lofty genius with the mass of dull and common-place spirits, or bind- ing together the great and the small, the caressed and the despised, the ap- plauded and the scorned ; but never yet have the dreams of revolutionary enthusiasm assigned so perfect a level to the face of human society, as that upon which its several members do ac- tually meet, even the level of original sin, — the level of a total incapacity to ward ofl' condemnation. Aliens from God, and outcasts from the light of his favor, there is no distinction be- tween us as to the moral position which we naturally occupy ; but the rich man and the poor man share alike, the one not more and the other not less, in the ruin which hath rolled as a deluge over our earth. Yea, and if they stand by nature on SPITAL SERMON. 173 the same level of ruin, so are they placed by redemption on the same lev- el of restoration. Men have garbled and mutilated the blessed Gospel of Je- sus Christ, by inventing their systems of exclusion, and have offended as much against philosophy as against theology, by limiting the effects of the atonement to certain individuals. The Redeemer had indeed human nature, but he had Tie human personalitj'-, and therefore he redeemed the nature in itself, and not this or that person. Just therefore as the whole race had fallen in the first Adam, so was the whole race redeemed or purchased by the second ; and the sun in its circuits about this sin-struck globe shines not upon the lonely being, unto Avhom it may not be said with all the force of a heavenly announcement, for thy transgressions a Mediator hath died! We go back then to the matter in hand, and we contend that the points of similarity between the rich and the poor are vastly more numerous than the points of distinction. The Bible sup- poses th.em placed in precisely the same moral attitude; so that whether a preacher enter into a palace or a cot- tage, he is nothing better than a base and time-serving parasite if he shape his message into different forms — the Gos- pel assuming not variety of tone, just according as the audience may be the wealthy and the pampered, or the in- digent and the oppressed ; but speak- ing unto all as beings born in sin and shapen in iniquity, and announcing un- to all the same free and glorious tid- ings, that " God hath made Christ to be sin for us, who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God, in him." But now I would have you observe from these premises, how the continu- ance of poverty has subserved the end of displaying the comparative worth- lessness of earthly possessions. Men are placed on widely different levels when viewed as members of human society ; but they are placed on iden- tically the same level when regarded as heirs of immortality, — and what is the necessary inference, save that when eternity is brought into the account, the relative advantages of life become absolutely evanescent 1 This simple fact, that " the poor we have always with us," furnishes perpetually a prac- tical exhibition, such as might other- wise have in vain been sought, of the total insignificance of things the most boasted, and the most prized, and the most coveted. For just suppose a con- trary arrangement. Suppose that riches had been equally distributed, so that it would have come to pass that the poor we had not always with us, — why, then, it is clear that the Gospel must have been stripped of that surprising radi- ance which it derives from overthrow- ing all mortal differences, and gather- ing into one arena of nakedness and destitution the monarch and the cap- tive, the potentate and the beggar. As the case now stands, we learn power- fully the worthlessness of wealth or honor in the sight of the Creator, by observing that he who has most of these must seek the salvation of his soul by precisely the same method as he who has least — for certainly it must follow from this, that in the eye of the Creator wealth and honor go for no- thing. But then it is the continuance of poverty which furnishes this proof, and conclusive as it is, we must have searched for it in vain had it not been appointed that '' the poor we should have always with us." If there were any alteration in this fact, so that the ranks of society became merged and equalized, we deny not that it would be equally true, that " riches profit no- thing in the day of wrath;" but we should not have possessed the like ocular demonstration of the truth; we should have wanted the display of con- trast. When all must be stripped, we should scarcely observe that any were stripped ; and it is the very circum- stance that there are wide temporal distinctions between man and man, which forces on our attention the stu- pendous truth, that we stand on a par in the sight of the Creator, yea, on the level of a helplessness, which as no mortal destitution increases, so neither can anjr mortal advantage diminish. I would pause for one moment to press home this truth upon your con- sciences. You may have been wont to derive moral and political lessons from the continuance of poverty, but have you ever yet derived this vast spiritual lesson 1 Have you used the temporal destitution of the great body of your 174 SFITAL SERMON. fellow-creatures as an overwhelming evidence to yourselves of the divinity of salvation] We tell you that it is an evidence so decisive and incontroverti- ble, that if a man be now puffed up by secular advantages, and if he fancy himself capable of turning those ad- vantages into a machinery for saving the soul, he may be said to have closed his eyes to the fact, that '^ the poor we have always with us" — always — so that whatever be the height to which civilization attains, whatever the spread of knowledge, whatever the standard of morality, poverty shall always con- tinue as a display of the riches of grace, and as a standing memorial that '' not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord of Hosts," shall the work of salvation be accom- plished. But I hasten to trace out certain other results which the continuance of poverty has produced. There needs only a cursory glance in order to our discerning, that the fact of the poor being always amongst us, has given free scope for the growth and exercise of christian graces. I might take the catalogue of excellences which Scrip- ture proposes as the objects of our as- pirations, and show you how each is cradled, so to speak, in the unevenness and diversity of human estate. If I turn, for example^ to faith, it will be conce- ded on all hands, that the unequal dis- tribution of the good things of this life is calculated to occasion perplexity to the pious, and that there is a difficulty of no slight dimensions, in reconciling the varieties of mortal allotments with the rigid equity of God's moral gov- ernment. We can master the difficulty by no other process, save that of re- ferring to the season when all the con- cerns of the universe shall be wound up, and when, by a most august de- velopement, the Judge, who sits on the great white throne, shall unravel the secrecies of every dispensation. But it is the province of faith, and that too of faith when in keenest exercise, thus to meet the discrepancies of the present by a bold appeal to the deci- sions of the future. And if it should come to pass that there were no dis- crepancies, which would be compara- tively effected if the poor ceased from amongst us j then who perceives not that this province of faith would be sensibly circumscribed I The problem with which it is now most arduous to grapple, and by the grappling with which faith is upheld in its vigor — the problem, wherefore does a merciful Creator leave in wretched destitution so many of his creatures — this would be necessarily taken out of our investi- gation — we should be girt about with the appearance of equable dealings in this life, and should seldom therefore be thrown for explanations on the mys- teries of the next. And I know not what consequence can be more evident, than that a huge field Avould thus be closed against the exercises of faith, a field which is formed in its length and in its breadth out of verification of our text, that " the poor we have always with us." But yet further. If there were to be no longer any poor, then it is evident that each one amongst us would be in possession of a kind of moral certain- ty that he should never become poor. Poverty would be removed from the number of possible human conditions, and there would be an end at once to those incessant and tremendous fluctu- ations which oftentimes dash the pros- perous on the rocks and the quicksands. But now mark how, with the departure of the risk of adversity, would depart also the meekness of our dependance on the Almighty. We might instantly remove one petition from our prayers, "give us this day our daily bread." If we were secure against poverty, which we should be if poverty had ceased from the earth, there would be some- thing of mockery in soliciting supplies, whose continuance was matter of cer- tainty ; and thus, by placing man out of the reach of destitution, you would go far to annihilate all those motives to simple reliance which are furnished by the vacillations of human condition ; you would destroy that liveliness which is now the result of momentary exer- cise : and we once more contend, that for the delicacy of its minute, just as well as for the magnificence of its more extended, operations, faith is mainly in- debted to the fact, that " the poor we have always with us." I go on to observe, of how much beauty we should strip the Gospel, if we stripped. the_world of poverty. It SPITAL SERMON. 175 is one of the prime and distinguishing features of the character of Deity, as revealed to us in Scripture, that the poor man, just as well as the rich man, is the object of his watchfulness : that, with an attention undistracted by the multiplicity of complex concernments, he bows himself down to the cry of the meanest outcast ; so that there is not a smile upon a poor man's cheek, and there is not a tear in a poor man's eye, which passes any more unheeded by our God, than if the individual were a monarch on his throne, and thousands crouched in vassalage l before him. We allow that when thought has busi- ed itself in traversing the circuits of creation, shooting rapidly from one to another of those sparkling systems which crowd immensity, and striving to scrutinize the ponderous mechan- ism of a universe, each department of which is full of the harmonies of glo- rious order, — we allow that, after so sublime a research, it is difficult to bring down the mind to the belief, that the affairs of an individual, and seem- ingly insignificant race, are Avatched over with as careful a solicitude as if that race were the sole tenant of infi- nite space, and this our globe as much covered by the wing of the Omnipotent, as if it had no associates in wheeling round his throne. Yet when even this belief is attained, the contemplation has not risen to one half of its augustness. We must break up the race piecemeal, we must take man by man, and woman by woman, and child by child — we must observe that to no two individuals are there assigned circumstances in every respect similar; but that each is a kind of world by himself, with his own allot- ments, his own trials, his own mercies : and then only do we reach the climax of what is beautiful and strange, when we parcel out our species into its separate units, and decide that not one of these units is overlooked by the Aljnighty ; but that just as it is the same hand which paints the enamel of a flower and guides the rolling of a plant, so it is the same guardianship which regu- lates the rise and fall of empires, and leads the most unknown individual, when he goeth forth to seek his daily bread. Now who perceives not that, by removing the poor altogether from amongst us, we should greatly obscure this amazing exhibition 1 The specta- cle which is most calculated to arrest us, and to fill the vision with touching delineations of Deity, is that of earthly destitution gilded by the sunshine of celestial consolation, — the spectacle of a child of want and misfortune, laden with all those ills which were bequeath- ed to man by a rebellious ancestry, and nevertheless sustained by so elastic and unearthly a vigor, that he can walk cheerily through the midst of trouble, and maintain a deep and rich tranquil- lity, whilst the hurricane is beating fu- riously upon him. But, comparatively, there could be no such spectacle if there came an end to the appointment, that the poor we have always with us. Take away poverty, and a veil is thrown over the perfections of the Godhead ; for we could not know our Maker in the fulness of his compassions, if we knew him not as a helper in the extre- mities of mortal desertion. It is given as one of the attestations of the Mes- sias-ship of Jesus, that " unto the poor the Gospel was preached ;" and we con- clude from this, as well as from the fea- tures of the Gospel in itself, that there is a peculiar adaptation in the messages of the Bible to the circumstances of those who have but little of this world's goods. And what need is there of ar- gument to prove, that never does this Gospel put on an aspect of greater loveliness, than when it addresses itself to the outcast and the destitute 1 One might almost have thought that it had been framed for the express purpose of ministering to the happiness of the poor. Unto the men, indeed, of every station it delivers precepts which may regulate their duties, and promises Avhich may nerve them to their dis- charge ; but then it is that the Gospel appears under its most radiant form, when it enters the hovel of the pea- sant, and lights up that hovel with glad- ness, and fans tbe cheek of the sick man with angels' wings, and causes the crust of bread and the cruse of water to be received as a banquet of luxury, and brings into the wretched chamber such a retinue of ministering spirits, that he whom his fellow-men have loathed and abandoned, rises into the dignity of a being whom the Almighty delighted to honor. Oh, verilj^, the brilliant triumph of the Gospel of 176 SPITAL SERMON. Jesus of Nazareth is won from the ca- reer of a man who professes godliness in poverty. The world despises him, but he is lifted above the world, and sits in heavenly places with Christ : he has none of the treasures of the earth, but the pearl of great price he hath made his own: hunger and thirst he may be compelled to endure, but there is hidden manna of which he eats, and there are living streams of which he drinks : he is worn down by perpetual toil, and yet he hath already entered into rest, — " persecuted, but not for- saken j cast down, but not destroyed." Make poverty as hideous as it can ever be made by the concentration of a hun- dred woes, — let it be a torn, and de- graded, and scorned, and reviled es- tate, — still can he be poor of whom it is said, that " all things are his, — the world, or life, or death, or things pre- sent, or things to come, — all are his, for he is Christ's, and Christ is God's 1" We call this the brilliant triumph of the Gospel of Christ ; a triumph from the study of which may be gathered the finest lessons of Christianity ; a triumph over all with which it is hard- est for religion to grapple. And if it be a stupendous characteristic of the Gospel, that it adapts itself to every possible emergency, that it provides largely for all the exigencies of human beings : and if it be moreover true, that certain graces are peculiarly exercised by poverty, which would be compara- tively uncalled for amid the comforts of affluence, then we may fairly make it matter of thanksgiving to God, that " the poor we have always Avith us," seeing that if they had ceased from amongst us, half the glories of revela- tion must have been shut up in dark- ness, and the magnificence of the pow- er of the Gospel would never have been measured, and the loveliness of the influences of the Gospel never been estimated. But it is time that I gather to a close this survey of the ends which the con- tinuance of poverty has subserved, and I shall therefore only add one more to the catalogue, but that especially con- nected with the occasion of this our assembling. The distinction of socie- ty into the poor and rich, introduces a large class of relative duties, Avhich would have no existence, if " the poor were not always amongst us." It can- not be called an overcharged picture, if I declare that the removal of pover- ty would go far towards debasing and uncivilizing Christendom ; and that a sudden and uniform distribution of wealth would throw us centuries back in the march of moral improvement. The great beauty of that state of things which our text depicts is, that men are dependent one upon the other, and that occasions perpetually present them- selves Avhich call into exercise the charities of life. We need only remind you of the native selfishness of the hu- man heart, a selfishness which is never completely eradicated, but which, af- ter years of patient resistance, will creep in and deform the most disinte- rested generosity. And we ask you whether, — so far at least as our arith- metic is capable of computing,- — this selfishness would not have reigned well nigh unmolested, had the Avorld been quite cleared of spectacles of destitu- tion, and if each man had been left without call to assist his brethren, see- ing that his brethren were in posses- sion of advantages setting them free from all need of assistance 'i Accord- ing to the present constitution, men are necessarily brought into collision with distress; and the eflject of the contact is to soften down those aspe- rities which deform the natural cha- racter, and to plane away that rugged- ness which marks the surface of the untrodden rock. But if there had been no physical wretchedness with which such collision could take place, then it appears to me evident that selfishness would have been left to grow up into a giant stature, and that the granite of the soul, which, though hard, may be chiselled, would have turned into ada- mant, and defied all impressions. Let the poor be no longer amongst us, and you dry up, so far as we can judge, the scanty fountains of sympa- thy which still bubble in the desert. By removing exciting causes of com- passion, you would virtually sweep away all kindliness from the earth j and by making the children of men in- dependent on each other, you would wrap up every one in his own passions and his own pursuits, and send him out to be alone in a multitude, and thus re- duce the creatures of the same species SPITAL SERMO.\*. 177 into so many centres of repulsion, scornfully withstanding the approaches of companionship. There is no aspect under which our text can be presented more worthy of your serious contem- plation than this. The relative duties, of which poverty is the parent, are those whose discharge is most human- izing to the rich, and at the same time most edifying to the poor. The higher classes of society are naturally tempt- ed to look down upon the lower, and the lower are as naturally tempted to envy the higher; so that the distinc- tions of rank make way for the trial of humility in one case and of content- ment in the other. But if there be truth in this reasoning ; if there be a direct tendency in the mixture of va- rious conditions to the smoothing the roughness of the human spirit, and to the cherishing of virtues most essen- tial to our well-being ; then may we not once more call upon you to admire the wisdom of the Almighty's dispen- sations, inasmuch as it is appointed by the purposes of heaven, that we should " have the poor always amongst us V Now, having traced certain of the ends which are decidedly subserved by the continuance of poverty, it remains that I speak briefly on our other topics of discourse. I may observe that the consideration suggested in the second clause of our text follows, with great force, on the review in which we have been engaged. There is a moral bene- fit conferred upon society by our hav- ing "the poor always with us;" but if V\'e further remember, that Christ is with us in the persons of his destitute brethren, so that in ministering to them M'e minister to him, then the varieties of mortal estate pass before us under n spiritual aspect, and we find in po- verty a storehouse of the motives of christianitj'. It is here that I take my stand, with a view to the duty now intrusted to my care. The noble institutions which I am required to recommend to your continued support, are so many monu- ments of the truth that "the poor we have always with us." I trust I may add, that the careful and liberal patron- age which they have hitherto rectiiv- ed, has emanated from a sense of love to the Redeemer ; and that the zeal with which they shall hereafter be up- held, will flow from no inferior origin. He who endows a hospital, thinking to win favor with God through this his munificence, rears, like the Egyptian monarchs, a pyramid for his sepulchre, but leaves his soul without one secret chamber wherein she may be safe from the sleet of eternal indignation. We would press this matter upon you with all the fidelity that its importance de- mands. The soul is not to be saved by any, the most costly, giving of alms. Sea and land may be compassed, and the limbs be macerated by penance, and the strength worn down by pain- ful attrition, and the wealth be lavish- ed in feeding the hungry, and clothing the naked ; and, nevertheless, the wrath of God be no more averted than if the life were passed in bold contempt of his name and attributes. " Other foun- dation can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ ;" and they who have entered heaven, climbed that lof- ty eminence not by piles of gold and silver which they consecrated to Je- hovah, — not by accumulated deeds of legal obedience, — but simply by the cross of the Redeemer, putting faith in the blood and righteousness of Him " who died, the just for the unjust, that he might bring us unto God." But when the heart is occupied by this heaven-born principle of faith, there will be an immediate kindling of love towards the Author of redemp- tion ; and works of benevolence, which sit as an incubus on the soul so long as they are accounted meritorious, will be wrought as the natural produce of a grateful and devoted aflection. If there be indeed within us the love of Him who hath loved us and given him- self for us, then shall we be eager to support the foundations of a god-fear- ing ancestry, not through the bloated and deceitful expectation that the glo- ries of futurity are to be purchased by attention to the necessitous, but sim- ply in conformity with the apostolical maxim, " Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought also to love one another." The poor we have always with us, and thus have we always abounding opportunities of testifying our dedica- tion to Him who is brought near by faith, though removed from sight, and who hath linked himself in ties of such close brotherhood with mankind that 23 178 SnrAL SERMON. he sympathizes with the meanest of the race. Upon the platform of love to the Redeemer do we take our stand, when recommending to your generous care those several Hospitals whose institution it is the business of this day's service to commemorate. I shall pause while the report of their pro- ceedings during the past year is read to you, and then wind up my discourse by a brief exposition of their claims upon public benevolence. Various and multiform are the ills which the charities, whose report you have now heard, set themselves to alle- viate. The burden of poverty is suffi- ciently heavy, even whilst the animal frame is not wasted by the inroads of sickness. But when disease hath laid its hand upon the body, and the strength is fretted by pining maladies, then es- pecially it is that penury is hard to bear; and the man who has wrestled bravely against want, whilst there was vigor in his limbs and play in his mus- cles, sinks down wearied and disconso- late, when the organs of life are clog- ged and impeded. Who would refuse to stretch out the hand of kindness, suc- coring the afflicted in this their hour of aggravated bitterness 1 Who could be callous enough to the woes of hu- manity, to be slow in providing that all which the skill and the wisdom of man can effect, towards lightening the pressure of sickness, may be placed within the reach of those who must otherwise waste away in unmitigated suffering 1 Who, in short, could be bold enough to call himself a man, and yet give himself up to a churlish indif- ference as to whether the pains of his destitute brethren Avere assuaged by the arts of medical science, or whether those brethren were left to the gnaw- ings of racking disease, with no pillow for the aching head, with no healing draught for the writhing emaciated frame ] One malady there is — the greatest, 1 may call it, to which flesh is heir, the unhappy subjects of which have a more than common claim on benevolence. It is much that accident and sickness should befall the body ; but the climax of affliction is not reach- ed until the mind itself is out of joint. So long as the soul retains possession of her capacities, man, however as- saulted, however agonized, falls not j^ from his rank in the scale of creation, . but rather, by displaying the superior- ity of the immortal over the mortal, prov.es himself the denizen of a migh- tier sphere. Man is, then, most illustri- ous and most dignified, when his spir- itual part rises up unshattered amid the ruins of the corporeal, and gives witness of destinies coeval with eter- nity, by showing an independence on the corrodings of time. But when the battery of attack has been turned upon the mind, when reason has been as- saulted and hurled from her throne, oh ! then it is that the spectacle of hu- man distress is one upon which even the beings of a higher intelligence than our own may look sadly and piti- fully ; for the link of communion with the long hereafter seems thus almost dissevered, and that pledge of an un- bounded duration, — a pledge of which no bodily decay can spoil us — a pledge which is won by the soul out of the breakings-up of bone and sinew — for a while is torn away from man, and he remains the fearful nondescript of cre- ation, dust lit up Deity, and yet Deity lost in dust. Ye cannot be lukewarm in the sup- port of an institution which, like one of those whose foundation we are met to commemorate, throws open its gates to the subjects of this worst of calami- ties, and it were to transgress the due bounds of my office, if I should insist further on the claims of those Hospitals which have been reared for the purpose of mitigating the ills attendent on bodi- ly or mental disease. But as the citizens of a great metro- polis, you have a duty to perform in watching the moral health of an over- grown population. It becomes you to apply wholesome correctives to a spreading dissolution of manners, and to adopt such processes in dealing with the vicious and disorderly, as seem best calculated to arrest the contagion. There would be a grievous deficiency in the establishment of this gigantic city, if it numbered not amongst its hospitals, one especially set apart to the reception of the vagrant and the dissolute. The beginnings of crime must be diligently checked, if we wish SPITAL SERMON. 179 to preserve soundness in our popula- tion ; and the best legislation is that which, by dealing strenuously with mi- nor offences, employs the machinery most calculated to prevent the com- mission of greater. But I turn gladly to the claims of an institution which can need no advocacj'^ from the preacher's lips, seeing that the objects who are sheltered beneath its munificent protection, surround me, and plead eloquently, though silently, their own cause. Founded and fos- tered by the princes of the laud, the hospital, which bears the name of Him who died as our surety, constitutes one of the prime ornaments of this empo- rium of wealth and greatness. Equalled by no other institution in the number of those for whose education and main- tenance it provides, and excelled by none in the soundness of the learning which it communicates, I pass not the strictness of truth when 1 affirm, that he who would exhibit the splendor of British philanthropy should take his station in this pulpit, and point to the right hand and to the left. We have here a large multitude of the rising generation trained up in those princi- ples which are calculated, under God's blessing, to make them valuable mem- bers of the community ; and such is the course of their education, that whilst many are fitted to fill stations in the va- I rious departments of trade, others are I prepared for the higher studies of a university, and thus introduced to the most solemn occupations of life. Who can behold such a number of his fellow- creatures, each with the dew of his youth just fresh upon him, and not re- I joice that the early years of their lives ; are thus shielded and cherished 1 Who ican remark how each bears upon his breast these animating words, ^^ He is i risen," and not desire that these young heirs of immortality may grow up into 'manhood, rooted in the faith of Him : who is " the Resurrection and the Life," and showing that they themselves are §i" risen with Christ," by " seeking those a.things which arc above, where Christ sitteth at the right hand of Godl" • The snows of a polar winter must rest upon the heart which throbs not with emotion at surveying so many born in troublous times, who, with all the airy expectancies of youthful and untried spirits, must go out into the walks of society, in days when they are more than commonly swept by the chilling blights of scepticism and vice. Unnecessary though I deem it to dwell at any length on the duty of sup- porting this venerable establishment, yet would I speak affectionately to you who are its inmates, and conjure you, " if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise," to " remember your Cre- ator in the days of your youth." Whilst you are still strangers to the seduc- tions of an ensnaring world, I would warn you against the evils which will gird you round when you go forth from the peaceful asylum of your child- hood, and mix, as you unavoidably must, with those who lie in wait to de- stroy the unwary. I would tell you that there is no happiness but in the fear of the Almighty j that if you would so pass through life as not to tremble and quail at the approach of death, make it your morning and your even- ing prayer, that the Holy Spirit may take possession of your souls, and lead you so to love the Lord Jesus in sin- cerity, that you may not be allured from the holiness of religion by any of the devices of a wicked generation. Ye read in your classical stories of a monarch who wept as his countless army passed before him, staggered by the thought, that yet a few years, and those stirring hosts would lie motion- less in the chambers of the grave. Might not a christian minister weep over you, as he gazes on the freshness of your daj's, and considers that it is but too possible, that you may hereaf- ter give ear to the scorner and the se- ducer. Thus might the buds of early promise be nipped ; and it might come to pass, that you, the children, it may be, of pious parents, over whose infancy a godly father may have watched, and whose opening hours may have been guarded by the tender solicitudes of a righteous mother, would entail on your- selves a heritage of shame, and go down at the judgment into the pit of the unbeliever and the profligate. Let this warning word be remembered by you all : it is simple enough for the youngest, it is important enough for the eldest. You cannot begin too soon to serve the Lord, but you may easily put it off too long ; and the thing which 180 SPITAL SERMON. will be least regretted when you come to die is, that you gave the first days of existence to preparation for heaven. But I refrain from enlarging further. 1 have touched briefly on the respec- tive claims to support of those noble institutions which have been founded amongst us by the piety of our forefa- thers : I add only that the times in which we live are full of perplexity and danger. The nations of the world heave and swell like the waters of a stormy ocean. There is going forth through the length and breadth of the earth a restless and a revolutionary spirit; and these, our islands, which have hitherto been curtained by the wing of an especial protection, seem not altogether unvisited by the perils vhich weave themselves around other ands. What then shall we do but arise n the strength of the Lord, and give • urselves strenuously to every labor .vhich may improve the moral and phy- sical condition of our people, and strive, as befits those who are alive to the startling aspect of the world, so to sur- round ourselves with the machinery of christian benevolence, that we may re- pel the aggressions of infidel hardi- aoodl Let there be no closing our eyes to the difficulties by Avhich we ■re environed ; let there be no giving •ar to the unhallowed speculations of I specious liberalism, which would jhow us new ways to national great- less and national renown, over the wreck of all that hath been held most sacred by our ancestry. If England wish to preserve her might amongst the nations, let her sons and her daugh- ters confess their transgressions and repent them of their sins : let covetous- ness — the curse and darling of com- mercial cities, be abhorred, and lust renounced, and ambition mortified, and every bold working of impiety chased from amongst them ; and let them, co- vered with the sackcloth of deep hu- miliation, bind themselves in a holy league for the advancement of the purposes of an enlarged philanthropy. Then, and not till then, may the hope be cherished, that the political hurri- canes which shake the dynasties of Europe, shall leave unscathed our island sovereignty ; and that whilst the rush- ing of a wrathful deluge dash away the land-marks of foreign states, Britain may lift her white cliffs above the surges, and rise amid the eddies like Mount Ararat from out the flood. " The poor you have always with you :" meet their spiritual and temporal necessities with the alacrity and zeal which be- come the followers of Christ ; be your^ selves men of prayer, and, so far as your influence extends, lead others to wrestle with the Almighty ; and then, oh tell us not that England's greatness hath touched its zenith ; ask us not for the lament which may be wailed over her departed majesty, — home of mer- cy, home of piety, thou shalt still con- tinue the home of plenty, the home of peace ; the sunshine of heaven's choice favor shall sleep upon thy fields, and the blithe music of contentment be heard in thy valleys ; for '' happy is that people that is in such a case, yea, blessed is that people whose God is the Lord." SERMONS PREACHED IN GREAT ST. MARY'S CHURCH, CAMBRIDGE; AT THR EVENING LECTURE IN FEBRUARY, 1S36 AND 1S37. 18 3 6. SEHMON. THE GREATNESS OF SALVATION AN ARGUMENT FOR THE PERIL OF ITS NEGLECT. " How shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation V^-Hebrews, 2 : 3. There is nothing' affirmed in these words, but the greatness of the salva- tion proposed by the Gospel ; and from this greatness seems inferred the im- possibility of escape, if we neglect the salvation. And there is, we think, sur- prising force in the question of our text, when nothing but the stupendousness of salvation is regarded as our proof, that to neglect it is to perish. It is a minister's duty, whether addressing his own congregation, or those to whom he is comparatively a stranger, to strive by every possible motive to stir his hearers to the laying hold on salvation, that so, whatever their final portion, he may be free from their blood. And therefore are we desirous to press you this night for an answer to the question, "How shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation V We wish you hon- estly to examine, whether the magni- tude of redemption be not of itself an overcoming demonstration that ruin must follow its neglect. We would keep you close to this point. The pow- er of the question lies in this — the peril of the neglect proved by the greatness of the salvation. And we are sure that there are many striking considerations, flowing from the fact that the salvation is so great, which must force you to admit the im- possibility of escape asserted by St. Paul. We shall necessarily, as we pro- ceed, descend so far into particulars, as to take by themselves certain ele- ments of the greatness in question. But, whatever the constituent parts in- to which we may resolve salvation, it must be simply as great that we exhibit this salvation ; and from the greatness, and from this alone, must we prove that none can escape who neglect the sal- vation. You see clearly that the pecu- liarity of the passage lies in this, that it infers the peril of the neglect from the greatness of the salvation. And in laboring at illustrating the accuracy of this inference, and the pressing on you jrour consequent danger if careless of the soul, we shall attempt no other ar- rangement of our discourse, but that which will set before j'^ou in succession, certain respects in which salvation is great, and use each successive exhibi- tion as a proof, that to despise what is thus great, must be to make sure de- struction. Now if we were arguing with an 182 THE GREATNESS OF SALVATION AN atheist, the man who disbelieves the existence of a God ; and if we desired to convince him on this, the fundamen- tal article of all religion, we should probably endeavor to reason up from the creation to the Creator, using the traces of an intelligent cause, by which we seem surrounded, in proof that a mightier architect than chance con- structed our dwelling. But we are quite aware that our adversary might demand a demonstration, that nothing short of an infinite power could have builded and furnished this planet ; and we are not perhaps well able to define at what point the finite must cease, and the in- finite commence. It may be conceded that certain results lie beyond human agency, and yet disputed whether they need such an agency as we strictly call divine. What men could not produce, might possibly be produced by beings mightier than men, and yet those be- ings stop far short of Omnipotence. We do not, therefore, think of main- taining, that the evidences of wisdom and power, graven on this creation, are the strongest which can be even con- ceived. On the contrary, we will not pretend to deny that we can imagine them greatly multiplied and strength- ened. It is manifest, that the keener our faculties, and the more earnest our investigation, the clearer do these evi- dences appear ; for there is no compari- son between those apprehensions of the works of creation which the man of science has, and those within reach of the illiterate observer. And, therefore, it is quite conceivable that there might be either such a communication of more powerful faculties, or such a laying bare of the hidden wonders of nature, that our present amount of acquaintance with creation should be as nothing when compared with what might then be attained. What surprises a man, what appears wonderful to him, be- cause beyond his skill to effect, or his wisdom to explain, does not necessari- ly present matter of surprise to an an- gel : the standard of wonderfulness grows with the faculties of the crea- ture ; there being nothing to overawe and astonish, till there is something far surpassing its power or its intelligence. Hence, we should not perhaps feel warranted in saying to the atheist, how can you believe, if you resist so great tokens of a Deity as are stamped on the scenery by which you are en- compassed 1 If we can suppose yet greater tokens, it is possible that he Avho will not yield to the evidence now vouchsafed, would yield to that migh- tier which imagination can array. The atheist might say to us, I am not con- vinced by Vv^hat I view around me. My own thoughts can suggest stronger witness for a Deity, if a Deity there be, than you think impressed on this earth, and its furniture, and its inhabi- tants. And whilst my mind can arrange a greater proof, you can have no right to denounce my unbelief as insurmount- able, because not surmounted by what you reckon so great. Now we stay not to show you, that he who can resist the evidences of an Infinite First cause, which are accessi- ble to dwellers on this planet, would probably remain unconvinced if the universe, in all its spreadings, were open to his expatiations. He would carry with him that desire to disbe- lieve, which is the mainspring of infi- delity ; and this would always furnish an excuse for remaining the atheist. But if we cannot say to the atheist, when pointing to the surrounding cre- ation, you withstand an evidence than which there cannot be a greater, we can say to the worldly-minded, when pointing to the scheme of redemption, you neglect a salvation than which there cannot even be imagined a migh- tier. If the atheist might appeal from proofs which have been given, to yet stronger which might have been fur- nished, we deny that the worldly-mind- ed can appeal from what God hath done on their behalf, to a more mar- vellous interference which imagination can picture. It is the property of re- demption, if not of creation, that it leaves no room for imagination. We will not defy a man to array in his mind the imagery of an universe, presenting the impress of Godhead more clearly than that in which we are placed. As we have already said, even if the uni- verse remained the same, we can sup- pose such change in our faculties of observation as would clothe every star, and every atom, and every insect, with a hundred-fold more of the proof that there is a God. But we will defy a man to conceive a scheme for the rescue of ARGUMENT FOR THE PERIL OF ITS NEGLECT. 183 a lost world, which should exceed, in any single respect, that laid open by the Gospel. We affirm of this scheme, that it is so great that you cannot sup- pose a greater. It is not because our faculties are bounded, that it seems to us wonderful. We have right to consi- der that it wears the same aspect to the highest of creatures : the mystery of godliness being unsearchable as well to angels as to men. And if it be sup- posable that there are scenes, which other beings are permitted to traverse, far outdoing in the wonderfulness of structure, and the majesty of adorn- ment, the earth on which we dwell — so that this creation is not the richest in the tracery of power and skill — we pro- nounce it insupposable, that there could have been made an arrangement on be- half of fallen creatures, fuller of Divinity, and more Avorthy amazement, than that of which we are actually the objects. This is our first way of putting, or rather vindicating, the question of our text. We contend that atheism has a far better apology for resisting the evidences of a God which had spread over creation, than worldly-mindedness for manifesting insensibility to redemp- tion through Christ. Atheism may ask for a wider sphere of expatiation, and a more glowing impress of Deity ; for it falls Avithin our power to conceive of richer manifestations of the invisi- ble Godhead. But worldly-mindedness cannot ask for more touching proof of the love of the Almighty, or for a more bounteous provision for human necessities, or for more stirring motive to repentance and obedience. Those of you who are not overcome by what I has been done for them, and who treat with indiU'erence and contempt the I proffers of the Gospel, are just in the j position of the atheist who should re- main the atheist after God had set be- 1 fore him the highest possible demon- 1 stration of himself. It is not too bold a I thing to say, that, in redeeming us, 1 God exhausted himself. He gave him- I self; and what greater gift could re- ' main unbestowed 1 So then, if you ne- glect salvation, there is nothing which ; you would not neglect. God himself i could provide nothing greater ; and if therefore you are unaffected by this, you only prove yourselves incapable of being moved. Thus it is the greatness of salvation which proves the utter ruin which must follow its neglect. If God have done for you the utmost which even Deity could do ; if all the divine attributes, unlimited as they are, have combined, yea, even exhausted themselves in the scheme of your rescue ; if the Creator could not by any imaginable display have shown himself more compassion- ate or more terrible, mightier to save or mightier to crush ; and if you with- stand all this, if you are indifferent to all this, if you '' neglect so great sal- vation;" may we not affirm that the magnitude of that which you despise is an incontrovertible proof that you must inevitably perish 1 May we not argue, that, having shown yourselves too hardened to yield to that into which Deity hath thrown all his strength, and too proud to be humbled by that which involved the humiliation of God, and too grovelling to be attracted by that which unites the human to the divine, and too cold to be warmed by that which burns with the compassions of Him who is love — may we not argue that you thus prove of yourselves, that there is no possible arrangement by which you could be saved ; that, resist- ing what in itself is greatest, you de- monstrate, in a certain sense, that you cannot be overcome ; and oh! then, if we have nothing to argue from but the stupendousness of redemption, what energy is there in the question, "How shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation 1" But it is necessary, as we before ob- served, that we consider more in detail the greatness of salvation, and by re- solving it into its elements;, make clearer the proof of the peril of ne- glect. Let it then first be remarked, that salvation is great because of the agency through which it was effected. You know that the Author of our re- demption was none other than the eternal Son of God, who had covenant- ed from the first to become the surety of the fallen. It came not within the power of an angel to make atonement for our sins : the angelic nature might have been united to the human, but there would not have been dignity in the one to give the required worth to the sufferings of the other. So far as we. have the power of ascertaining, it I 184 THE GKEATXESS OF SALVATION AN would seem that no being but the Di- vine, taking to himself flesh, could have satisfied justice in the stead of fallen men. But then this is precisely the arrangement which has been made on our behalf. It was the second person in the ever-blessed Trinity, who, com- passionating the ruin which transgres- sion had brought on this earth, assu- med our nature, exhausted our curse, and died our death. And certainly, if there be an aspect under which re- demption appears great, it is when sur- veyed as the achievement of the only begotten of the Father. The majesty of the agent gives stupendousness to the work, and causes it to dilate till it far exceeds comprehension. It is main- ly on this account that we can declare even imagination unable to increase the greatness of the arrangement for our rescue. This arrangement demand- ed that God himself should become man, and sustain all the wrath which sin had provoked ; and what can be imagined more amazing than the fact, that what the arrangement demanded literally took place? The problem, how God could be just and yet the justifier of sinners, baffled all finite intelligence, because a divine person alone could mediate between God and man ; and if created wisdom could have discover- ed the necessity, it would never have surmised the possibility. Now certainly that which, more than any thing else, rendered human re- demption insupposable, when submit- ted to the understanding of the very highest of creatures, must be confessed to be also that which gives a sublime awfulness to the plan, and invests it with a grandeur which increases as we gaze. In looking at the cross, and con- sidering that our sins are laid upon the being who hangs there in weakness and ignominy, the overcoming thought is, that this being is none other than the everlasting God ; and that, however he seems mastered by the powers of wick- edness, he could by a single word, ut- tered from the tree on which he immo- lates himself, scatter the universe into nothing, and call up an assemblage of new worlds, and new systems. This makes salvation great — I shall know how great, when I can measure the dis- tance between the eternal and the pe- rishable, omnipotence and feebleness, immortality and death. But if salvation is great, because the Savior is Divine, assuredly the greatness of salvation proves the peril of neglect. To neglect the salvation must be to throw scorn on the Savior ; and that Savior being so great, " how shall we escape 1" Oh, if it give an unmeasured vastness to the work of our redemption, that he who undertook, and carried on, and completed that work, was " the bright- ness of the Father's glory, and the ex- press image of his person}" if the fact, that he " who bare our sins in his own body on the tree," was that illustrious being " for whom are all things, and by whom are all things," magnify our rescue from death till thought itself fails to overtake its boundaries; then there is a greatness in the proffered deliverance, derived from the greatness of the deliverer, which proclaims us ruined if we treat the offer with con- tempt. We are taught, by the great- ness, that there can be salvation in none other, for God would not have interposed, could any other have deli- vered. We are taught that to neglect, is to set at nought Kim who can crush by a breath, and to convert into an en- emy, pledged to our destruction, the alone being that could be found through- out a peopled immensity powerful e- nough for our rescue. And what say you, men and brethren — if the great- ness of the salvation depend on the greatness of the Savior, and this great- ness demonstrate that to neglect the salvation, is to throw away our only hope, and to array against ourselves that fiercest of all vengeance. Divine mercy scorned — what say you, in con- tradiction of the impossibility asserted by the question, " How shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation]" But again — we may affirm this salva- tion to be great, because of the com- pleteness and fulness of the work, great in itself, as well as in its Author. We might be sure that what a divine agent undertook would be thoroughly effect- ed; and accordingly, the more we ex- amine the scheme of our redemption, the more may we prove it in every sense perfect. The sins of the whole race were laid upon Christ ; and the di- vinity gave such worth to the suffer- ings of the humanity, that the whole race might be pardoned, if the whole ARGUMENT FOR THE PERIL OF ITS NEGLECT. 185 race would put faith in the substitute. There is consequently nothing in our own guiltiness to make us hesitate as to the possibility of forgiveness. The penalties due to a violated law have been discharged ; and therefore, if we believe in our surety, we are as free as though we had never transgressed. And is not that a great salvation, which places pardon within reach of the vilest offenders ; and which, providing an atonement commensurate with every amount of iniquity, forbids any to de- spair who have a wish to be saved \ But yet further — this salvation not only provides for our pardon, so that punishment may be avoided; it pro- vides also for our acceptance, so that happiness may be obtained. The faith which so interests us in Christ, that we are reckoned to have satisfied the law's penalties in him, obtains for us also the imputation of his righteous- ness, so that we have a spotless cover- ing in which to appear before God. Hence we have share in the obedience, as well as in the suffering of the Medi- ator ; and whilst the latter delivers from the death we had deserved, the former consigns to the immortality we could never have merited. And is not this a great salvation, great in its simplicity, great in its comprehensiveness, which thus meets the every necessity of the guilty and helpless; and which, arrang- ed for creatures whom it finds in the lowest degradation, leaves them not till elevated to the very summit of dignity 1 But if salvation be thus great in the fulness of its provisions, what again does the greatness prove but the peril of neglect 1 If the salvation were in any respect deficient, there might be excuse for the refusing it our attention. If it met our necessities only in part, leaving much to be sought in other quarters, and supplied from other sour- ces, it would necessarily lose much of its greatness; and as its greatness di- minished, so perhaps would its claim on our eager acceptance. If, providing par- don for pkst offences, it left us to stand or fall for the future by our own obe- dience, making final security the result of nothing but our diligence, neglect might be palliated by the confessed fact, that what it offered sufficed not for our wants. To pardon me, and then leave me to gain heaven by my own works, were to make death as sure as ever, but only more terrible, because I had been mocked with the prospect of life. And I might have an apology for not giving heed to the Gospel and not striv- ing to comply with its demands, if I could plead that this Gospel proff'ered only the half of what I need, and that I could no more furnish the remainder than provide the whole. But the salva- tion is great, so great that I cannot find the moral want of which it does not present the supply. It is so great, that I can only describe it by saying, that Divine knowledge took the measure of every human necessity, and Divine love and power gathered into this salvation a more than adequate provision. What then if we neglect this salvation 1 The salvation is great, as furnishing all which we require : what then is to neg- lect it, but to put from us all which we require 1 The salvation is great, be- cause meeting with a wonderful preci- sion our every exigence : what then is to neglect it, but to leave our every exigence unsatisfied and uncared for I The salvation is great, because proffer- ing the pardon of sin, and a righteous- ness which will endure the scrutinies of the Omniscient, and victory over death, and acquittal, yea, reward, at the judgment : what then is it to neglect it, but to keep the burden of unexpia- ted guilt, and to resolve to go hence with no plea against wrath, and to leave the sting in death, and to insure dreari- ness and agony through eternity 1 Oh, it is the completeness of salvation which gives it its greatness. Salvation is col- lossal, towering till lost in the inacces- sible majesty of its Author, because containing whatever is required for the transformation of man from the child of wrath to the child of God, from death to life, from the shattered, and corruptible, and condemned, to the glo- rious, and imperishable, and approved. But if all this give greatness to salva- tion, beyond doubt it is the great- ness which proves, that,- in treating the Gospel with indifference, we block up against ourselves the alone path by which sinners can flee Divine wrath. As the scheme of redemption rises be- fore us in its grandeur and plenitude — a grandeur which makes it more than commensurate with the ruin which 2i 186 THE GREATNESS OF SALVATION AN apostacy hath fastened on mankind, and a plenitude through which it meets the every want of every one who longs to grasp eternal life — why, the more magnificent, and the more comprehen- sive, appears the proffered deliverance, with the more energy does it echo back the question of the apostle, '' How shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation 1" But there are yet other ways in which we may uphold the justice of the argu- ment, which infers the peril of neglect from the greatness of salvation. We proceed to observe that salvation is great, not more because of the great- ness of the Agent by whom it was achieved, than of Him by whom it is applied. The personal presence of the Redeemer with his church was un- doubtedly a privilege and blessing sur- passing our power to estimate. Yet, forasmuch as the descent of the Spirit could not take place without his own departure from earth, Christ assured his disciples that it was expedient for them that he should go away ; thus implying it to be more for their benefit that the Holy Ghost should come down, than that himself should remain. And if, therefore, it give greatness to sal- vation that it was effected by the Son, it must give as much that it is applied by the Spirit. That a person of the ever-blessed Trinity — that energizing Agent who is described as brooding over the waters, Avhen creation had not yet been moulded into symmetry, that He might extract order from con- fusion — that this being should continu- ally reside upon earth, on purpose that he may act on the consciences and hearts of mankind through the Gospel of Christ : Ave say of this, that it gives to our salvation the perpetual majesty of Divinity, an awfulness scarce infe- rior to that which it derives from the sacrifice of the Son. The presence of the Spirit with the church, a presence so actual and universal that the heart of each amongst us is the scene of his operations, and the truth of our re- demption through Christ is that which he strives to bring home to our affec- tions, — this assuredly stamps a great- ness on the arrangements for deliver- ance, only to be measured when we can measure God himself. But, if it gives greatness to salvation that it is applied by the Spirit, who can fail to perceive that from the greatness may be learned the peril of neglect 1 We are certain of every one amongst you who neglects salvation, that he withstands the suggestions and striv- ings of the Spirit of the living God. We know that there is not one of you, the most indifferent and careless in re- gard to the threatenings and promises of the Gospel, who has not had to fight his way to his present insensibility against the powerful remonstrances of an invisible monitor, and who is not often compelled, in order to the keep- ing himself from alarm and anxiety, to crush, with a sudden and desperate violence, pleadings Avhich are fraught with super-human energy. We know this. We want no laying bare of your secret experience in order to our as- certaining this. We need no confes- sions to inform us that you have some little trouble in destroying yourselves. The young amongst you, whose rod is pleasure and whose home the world, we would not believe them if they assured us, that they never know any kind of mental uneasiness; that never when in a crowd, never when alone, do they hear the whisperings of a voice which tells them of moral danger ; that they have never difficulty, when told of the death of an associate, or when they meet a funeral, or when laid on a sick- bed, in repressing all fear, all consci- ousness of a necessity for a thorough change of conduct. We would not be- lieve them, we say, if they assured us of this. We know better. We know them the possessors of a conscience. We know them acted on by the Spirit of the Almighty. We know them im- mortal, sons and daughters o'f eternity, however they may endeavor to live as though death Avere annihilation. And therefore Ave Avould not believe them. Oh, no. As soon believe the rock, were it gifted with speech, which should ar- gue, that, because unsoftened, it AA^aa never shone on by the sun, and never swept by the Avinds, and never dashed by the Avaters, as the grani^ of the heart, Avhich, because yet insensible, Avould deny that an unseen hand ever smote it, or celestial dews ever fell on it, or divine beams strove to pene- trate it. No, we cannot believe you Avhen you ARGUMENT FOE THE PERIL OF ITS NEGLECT. 187 would tell us that you are let alone by God. Ag-ain we reply that we know better. We know that the young man, who is the slave of his passions, has often a misgiving that his tyrants here will be his tormentors hereafter. We know that the young woman, whose deity is dress, is Sometimes startled by the thought of the shroud and the winding-sheet. We know that the mer- chantman, laboring to be rich, is now and then aghast with fear of being poor through eternity. We know that the shrewd man, too cunning to be duped by any but himself, has moments in which he feels, that, in the greatest of all transactions, he may perhaps be over-reached, and barter the everlast- ing for the perishable. We know that the proud man, moving in a region of his own, and flushed with the thought how many are beneath him, is occa- sionally startled by a vision of utter degradation, himself in infamy, and "How art thou fallen!" breathed a gainst him by the vilest. We know that ihose who neglect means of grace, who, when invited to the Lord's table, continually refuse — we know, that, as they turn their back on the ordinance, they do violence to a secret remon- strance, and feel, if only for an instant, (oh, how easy, by the resistance of an instant, to endanger their eternity!) that they are rejecting a privilege which will rise against them as an accuser. We know all this, and we cannot be- lieve you when you would tell us that you are let alone by God. You are not let alone. You are acted on through the machinery of conscience. You may have done your best towards mas- tering and exterminating conscience, but you have not yet quite succeeded. There is Divinity in the monitor, and it will not be overborne. We know that you are not let alone : for the salva- tion which we press on your accept- ance is a great salvation ; and in no- thing is this greatness more apparent than in the fact, that the Spirit of the Almighty is occupied with commend- ing this salvation to sinners, and com- bating their prejudices, and urging them to accept. It is indeed a marvel- lous greatness, that Omnipotence it- self should not be more engaged with upholding the universe, and actuating -the motions of unnumbered systems. and sustaining the animation of every living thing, from the archangel down to the insect, than with plying trans- gressors with all the motives which are laidiup in the Gospel, admonish- ing them by the agony, and the pas- sion, and the death of a Mediator, and warning them by the terrors, as well as inviting them by the mercies, of the cross. It is a marvellous great- ness. But if you remain the indiflerent and unbelieving, this greatness only proves that you are not to be over- come by the strongest power which can be brought to bear on our nature; proves that an agency, than which none is mightier, has wrestled with you, and striven with you, but as yet all in vain ; proves therefore the certainty of your destruction, if you persist in your care- lessness, because it proves, that, hav- ing withstood the most potent means, there can be none to Avhich you will yield : and what is this but proving the peril of neglect from the greatness of salvation 1 what is this, since the great- ness of salvation depends much on the greatness of the being who applies it, what is this but asking, " How shall we escape, if we neglect so great sal- vation ?" But we have yet another mode in which to exhibit the same truth ; to show, that is, that the greatness of sal- vation proves the impossibility that they who neglect it should escape. We are bound to regard the Gospel of Christ Jesus as the grand revelation of future punishment and reward. Until the Redeemer appeared, and brought men direct tidings from the invisible world, the sanctions of eternity were scarcely at all made to bear on the oc- cupations of time. It cannot indeed be said that Christ first taught the immor- tality of the soul ; for from the begin- ning the soul was her own witness, though oftentimes the testimony was inadequately given, that she perished not with the body. Yet so imperfect had been the foregoing knowledge, as compared with that communicated by Christ, that St. Paul declares of the Savior, that he "abolished death, and brought life and immortality to light by the Gospel." In the teachings of the Mediator we have such clear infor- mation as to our living under a retri- butive government, that ignorance can 188 THE GREATNESS OF SALVATION AN be no man's excuse, if he act as though God took no note of his conduct. And we reclcon that much of tlie greatness of the Gospel consists in the greatness of the reward which it proposes to righteousness, and the greatness of the punishment which it denounces on im- penitence. It is a great salvation, if on the alternative of its rejection, or acceptance, hinges another alternative, that of everlasting misery or everlast- ing happiness. The characteristic of great may most justly be ascribed to a system, whose sanctions are of so sub- lime and awful a description, which animates to self-denial by the promise of a heaven where " there is fulness of joy for evermore," and warns back from wickedness by the threatening of a worm that never dies, and a fire that is not quenched. It was not re- demption from mere temporary evil that Christ Jesus efTected. The conse- quences of transgression spread them- selves through eternity ; and the Sa- vior, when he bowed his head and said, " It is finished," had provided for the removal of these consequences, in all the immenseness whether of their ex- tent or their duration. And we say that in nothing is the greatness of salvation more evidenced than in its dealing with everlasting things: it did not in- deed make man immortal ', but, finding him immortal, and his immortality one of agony and shame, it sent its influ- ences throughout this unlimited exist- ence, wrung the curse from its every instant, and left a blessing in its stead. Exceeding great is our salvation in this, that it opens a prospect for eter- nity than which imagination can con- ceive none more brilliant, if we close with the profler, and none more appal- ling, if we refuse. But if this be its greatness, what does the greatness prove of those by whom it is neglected 1 In order to your being animated to the throwing off the tyranny of the things of time and sense, the Gospel sets before you an array of motive, concerning which it is no bold- ness to say, that, if ineffective, it is be- cause you are immovable. If heaven fail to attract, and hell to alarm — the heaven and the hell which are opened to us in the revelation of Christ — it can only be from a set determination to continue in sin, a determination, proof against all by which, as rational agents, we are capable of being influenced. If you could be excited by reward, is there not enough in heaven; if you could be deterred by punishment, is there not enough in hell 1 What, will you tell me that you can be roused, that your insensibility is not such as it is impossible to overcome, or rather, that your choice is not so fixed but that it might be swayed by adequate inducement, when you will not resign a bauble which stands in competition with heaven, nor deny an appetite for the sake of escaping hell 1 Is it that heaven is not sufficiently glo- rious ; is it that hell is not sufficiently terrible 1 We can admit no plea from deficiencies in the proposed punish- ment or reward. Indeed there can be none of you bold enough to urge it. The man whom heaven cannot allure from sin, the man whom hell cannot scare from sin, would a brighter hea- ven (if such there could be,) or a fiercer hell, prevail with him to attempt the overcoming corruption'? Oh, the sal- vation is great, greater in nothing than in the reward and punishment which it propounds to mankind ; for of both it may be said, that " eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered in- to the heart of man." But then, being thus great, its greatness is our proof that there is no hope of moving those whom it moves not. The happiness promised to obedience, there can be imagined none richer ; the wretched- ness threatened to disobedience, there can be imagined none sterner. And yet the man is unafi^ected. He is not at- tracted by the happiness — then I must despair of attracting him. He is not alarmed by the wretchedness — then I must despair of alarming him. And, therefore, it is the greatness of the sal- vation which shows me his peril. Yea, as this greatness is demonstrated by the proposition of everlasting portions, not to be exceeded in the intenseness whether of joy or of \vo, and which therefore leave no inducement untried by which the careless may be roused, and the sensual braced to self-denial, we seem to hear this question reverbe- rated alike from the firmament above with its homes for the righteous, and from the abyss beneath with its pri- sons for the lost, " How shall we es- ARGUMENT FOR THE PERIL OF ITS NEGLECT. 189 cape, if we neglect so great salvationi" Such, bretliren, are certain of tlie reasons — and, had time permitted, we might have adduced more — which prove the connection between the greatness of salvation, and the peril of neglect. And now we ask the care- less and the worldly-minded amongst you, whether they have an answer to give to the solemn question before us. The demand is, " How shall we es- cape ]" You must undoubtedly have some reply in readiness. We have no right to accuse you of the incalculable folly of owning that there is only one way of escape from the most terrible judgments, and yet taking no heed to walk in that way. You are furnished then with a reply : we will not charge you with a want of common sense : we must allow you the credit of having a reason to give for destroying your- selves. But we should like to know the reason. We can hardly imagine its form. Perhaps you intend to pay at- tention to the Gospel hereafter. But no, this is no reason for neglect. This confesses the necessity of giving heed ; and therefore proves you more than ever culpable in your negligence. Per- haps you contend that you quite admit all the claims of the Gospel ; that you are amongst those who receive it, not those who reject ; and that you know not why it should condemn you, since you give it heartily the preference to every other religion. But no, this is no apology. It might be plausible, if the question were. How shall we escape, if we disbelieve, deny, ridicule, oppose, so great salvation^ but oh, sirs, it is, '^ How shall we escape if we neglect ?" To neglect, just to treat with coldness or carelessness, to give attention to other things in preference, not the be- ing the openly infidel, but the actually indifferent ; this it is which, if there be truth in our text, insures man's de- struction. And therefore we again say that we cannot imagine the answer with which, thinking calculating beings as ye are, you would parry the home-question of our text. But of this we can be certain, that your answer has no worth. The question of the apostle is the strongest form of denial. . Ye cannot escape if ye neglect. And be ye well assured, that, if ye could interrogate the spirits in wretchedness, negligence would be that which they would chiefly give as the cause of their ruin. There would be comparatively {ew who would tell you they had rejected Christianity ; few that they had embraced deistical views ; few that they had invented for themselves another mode of acceptance ; but the many, the many, their tale would be, that they designed, but delayed to heark- en to the Gospel; that they gave it their assent, but not their attention ; that, — are ye not staggered by the likeness to yourselves! — though they knew, they did not consider ; apprised of danger, they took no pains to avert it ; having the offer of life, they made no effort to secure it ; and therefore perished, finally, miserably, everlast- ingly, through neglect of the great sal- vation. God grant that none of us, by imitating their n*5glect, share their misery. I 190 ON THE EFFECTS OF CONSIDERATION. SERMON. ON THE EFFECTS OF CONSIDERATION.* ■When I consider, I am afraid of Him." — Job, 23 : 15. In this chapter Job declares, in lan- guage of great sublimity, the unsearch- ableness of God. " Behold, I go for- ward, but he is not there, and back- ward, but I cannot perceive him ; on the left hand where he doth work, but I cannot behold him ; he hideth him- self on the right hand, that I cannot see him." Vexed with many and sore trials", the patriarch vainly strove to under- stand God's dealings, and, though still holding fast his integrity, was almost tempted to doubt whether he should escape from his troubles. He dwells on the immutability of God j and, think- ing that possibly this immutability is engaged to the continuance of his sor- rows, only heightens his anxieties by pondering the unchangeableness of God. " He is in one mind, and who can turn himl and wliat his soul desireth, even that he doeth." If there had gone out a decree against him, appointing ca- lamity to be his portion, Job felt that deliverance was not to be hoped for. '^ Therefore," saith he, "I am troubled at his presence ; when I consider, I am afraid of him." It was not, you observe, a hasty glance at the character of God, which gave rise to the fear which the patri- arch expresses. His fear was the re- sult of deep meditation, and not of a cursory thought. " When I consider, I am afraid of him." The cursory thought might have included nothing but the benevolence of God, and thus have induced the sufferer to expect re- lief from his woes. But the deep medi- tation brought under review many at- tributes of the Almighty, and there was • A collection was made after this sermon, in support of the Irish Society of London. I much in these attributes to perplex and discourage. It may indeed have been only the unchangeableness of God, which, en- gaging the consideration, excited the fears of the patriarch. But we are not bound, in discoursing on our text, to limit to one attribute this effect of con- sideration. There is the statement of a general truth, though, in the case be- fore us, the application may have been particular. That the fear, or dread, of God is the produce of consideration ; that it does not therefore spring from ignorance, or want of thought ; this is the general truth asserted by the pas- sage, and which, as accurately distin- guishing religion from superstition, de- mands the best of our attention. It is not to be doubted that a superstitious dread of a Supreme Being is to be over- come by consideration ; and it is as lit- tle to be doubted that a religious dread is to be produced by consideration. The man who has thrown off all fear of God, is the man in whose thoughts God finds little or no place. If you could fasten, for a Avhile, this man's mind to the facts, that there is a God, that he takes cog- nizance of human actions as moral Go- vernor of the universe, and that he will hereafter deal with us by the laws of a most rigid retribution, you would pro- duce something like a dread of the Cre- ator ; and this dread Avould be super- stitious or religious, according to the falseness, or soundness, of principles admitted and inferences deduced. If the produced dread were superstitious, it would give way on a due considera- tion of these principles and inferences; if religious, such consideration would only deepen and strengthen it. We are sure that the absence of con- ON THB EFFECTS OF CONSIDERATION. 191 sideration is the only account which can be given of the absence of a fear of the Almighty. It is not, and it can- not be, by any process of thought, or mental debate, that the great mass of our felloAV-men work themselves into a kind of practical atheism. It is by keep- ing God out of their thoughts, or allow- ing him nothing more than the homage of a faint and passing remembrance, that they contrive to preserve that sur- prising indifference, which would al- most seem to argue disbelief of his ex- istence. And there is not one in this assembly, whatever may be his uncon- cern as to his position relatively to his Maker, and whatever his success in ba- nishing from his mind the consequences of a life of misdoing, in regard of whom we have other than a thorough persua- sion, that, if we could make him con- sider, we should also make him fear. It is not that men are ignorant of facts ; it is that they will not give their attention to facts. They know a vast deal which they do not consider. You cannot be observant of what passes around you, or within yourselves, and fail to perceive how useless is a large amount of knowledge, and that too simply through want of consideration. To borrow the illustration of a distin- guished writer, who has so treated as almost to have exhausted this subject, every one knows that he must die ; and yet the certainty of death produces no effect on the bulk of mankind. It is a thing knov.'n, it is not a thing consider- ed ; and therefore those who are sure that they are mortal, live as though sure they were immortal. Every one of you knows that there is a judgment to come. But may we not fear of num- bers amongst you, that they do not con- sider that there is a judgment to come ; and may we not ascribe lo their not considering what they know, their per- sisting in conduct which must unavoid- ably issue in utter condemnation 1 We might multiply this kind of illus- tration. But the fact is so apparent, the fact of knowledge being useless be- ll cause the thing known is not consider- ed, that it were but wasting time to employ it on its proof. We may sup- pose that we carry with us the assent of every hearer, when we say, that, even in reference to the things of this life, and much more of the next, there are hundreds who have knowledge for one who has consideration. We must all perceive how frequent it is for truths to receive the assent of the understand- ing, and gain a lodgment in the memo- ry ; and yet, though they may be of stirring moment, to exert no influence on the conduct. If as fast as we gather information into the chambers of the mind, we were also gathering motive into the recesses of the soul, it is evi- dent that each page of Scripture, as we possessed ourselves of its announce- ments, would minister to our earnest- ness in wrestling for immortality. But the melancholy fact is, that we may, and that we do, increase the amount of information, without practically in- creasing the amount of motive. It is quite supposable that there are some amongst yourselves, who, by a regular attendance on Sabbath ministrations, and by diligent study of the Bible, have acquired no inconsiderable acquaint- ance with the scheme and bearings of Christianity ; but who are nevertheless as worldly-minded, in spite of their the- ology, as though ignorant of the grand truths disclosed by revelation. We might subject these persons to a strict examination, and try them in the seve- ral departments of divinity. And they might come off from the scrutiny with the greatest applause, and be pronoun- ced admirably conversant with the truths of the Bible. But of all the knowledge thus displayed, there might not be a particle which wielded any in- fluence over actions. The whole might be reposing inertly in the solitudes of the memory, ready indeed to be sum- moned forth when its possessor is call- ed into some arena of controversy, but no more woven into the business of every-day life, than if it were know- ledge of facts which are unimportant, or of truths which are speculative. And the main reason of this has been already advanced, the want of consider- ation. You know there is a God ; but you do not fear this God, you do not live under a sense of his presence and an apprehension of his wrath, because you do not consider that there is a God. And we wish it well observed that man is answerable for this want of con- sideration, inasmuch as it is voluntarjr^ and not unavoidable. We certainly 192 ON THE EFFECTS OF CONSIDERATION. have it in our power, not only to apply ourselves to the acquisition of know- ledge, but, when the knowledge has been acquired, to direct the attention to the tendencies of the ascertained truths. If this be done, there is every likelihood that the truths will produce their right effects on the moral feel- ings; if this be neglected, the almost certainty is, that, whatever their na- ture, they will not call forth those emotions which they are both intended and calculated to excite. The truths of revelation are adapted, according to the constitution of our moral capaci- ty, to rouse within us certain feelings. And by fixing the mind on these truths, when investigated and determined — and this is adding consideration to knowledge — we may be said compara- tively to insure the production of the feelings which naturally correspond to them, and thus vastly to diminish, if not to destroy, the probability that they will fail of effecting any change in the conduct. You know sufficiently well, that, if you obtain a knowledge of circumstan- ces which may exert an influence over your temporal condition, you can, and in most cases you do, give those cir- cumstances your close consideration, and ponder them with unwearied assi- duousness, in hopes of extracting some directions for your guidance in life. And if you were to fail to add consid- eration to knowledge, you would fairly be regarded as the authors of every dis- aster which might follow on your not turning knowledge to account ; and the bankruptcy, in which you might be speedily involved, would excite no com- miseration, as being altogether charge- able on your own indolence and indif- ference. So that, if you have know- ledge, it is reckoned quite your own fault, if it rest inertly in the mind, in place of stirring up emotions and re- gulating energies. Your fellow-men deal with you as with free agents, pos- sessing the power of considering what they know, and therefore answerable for all the consequences of a want of consideration. And what we wished impressed upon you at this stage of our discourse is, that you must expect the same dealing at the tribunal of the Almighty, as you thus experience at the hands of your fellow-men. If it be once shown that you had the knowledge, you will be tried as beings who might have had the consideration. To recur to our il- lustration — you have a thorough know- ledge that you must die. There passes not a day which does not, in some shape or other, present this fact to your ob- servation, and call upon you, by em- phatic demonstrations of human mor- tality, to acknowledge your own frailty. Ye cannot be so sure that any combi- nation of circumstances will issue in the derangement and bankruptcy of your affairs, as ye are, that, at a period which cannot be very distant, ye will be withdrawn altogether from these af- fairs, and ushered into an untried ex- istence. And if, because you have not fastened attention upon circumstances which threaten you with temporal ca- lamity, you are reckoned as having only yourselves to blame when that ca- lamity bursts, like an armed man, into your households, assuredly you must hereafter be treated as your own wil- ful destroyers if you make no prepa- ration for that dreaded visitant whom no force can repulse, and no bribe al- lure, from your doors. We admit that much has been taught, and boasted, in respect to the free-agency of man, which will no more bear the test of experience than of Scripture. But we cannot doubt that man is sufficiently a free agent to make the path of death, in which he walks, the path of his own choice; so that, just as he is free to consider what he knows in re- ference to the matters of this life, so is he free to consider what he knows in reference to the matters of the next life. And we give it j^ou all as a warning, whose energy increases with your ac- quaintance with the truths of revela- tion, that God has gifted you with an apparatus of moral feelings, to the ex- citement of which the announcements of Scripture are most nicely adapted ; and has thus so fitted the Bible to your constitution, that, if the Bible be known, and you unconcerned, there is evidence of wilful indifference, or determined opposition, which will suf- fice for procuring condemnation at the judgment. The fact that we must give account hereafter for every action, is, of all others, fitted to serve as a lever ON THE EFFECTS OF CONSIDERATION. 19.' which may raise iato activity the pow- ers of the inner man. But then it is consideration, and not mere know- ledge, of such fact which converts it into the lever. Knowledge only intro- duces it into the mind. But when intro- duced, it will lie there idle and power- less, unless taken up and handled by consideration. And forasmuch as you have full power of giving consideration to the fact — for you can give your con- sideration to a fact of astronomy, or of 'chemistry; and therefore also, if you choose, to a fact of theology — you are clearly answerable for the ineffective- ness of the fact, if it never move the torpid energies; and can expect no- thing but the being condemned at last, as having known, but not having con- sidered. But we have somewhat wandered from our text : at least, we have dwelt generally on the want of consideration, in place of confining ourselves to the instance which the passage exhibits. We go back to our proposition, that a fear of God will be the result of con- sidering : " when I consider, I am afraid of him." It is our earnest wish to bring the careless amongst you, those who have no dread of God, to a sense of the aw- fulnessof that mysterious Being, whose existence indeed you confess, but of whom, notwithstanding, your whole life is one perpetual defiance. Your fault is, that, immersing yourselves in the business or pleasures of the world, you never sit down to a serious con- templation of your state : in other words, that, however intently you fas- ten your thoughts on vain and perish- able objects, yet, as creatures who are just in the infancy of existence, you never consider. And we have but little hope of prevailing on you, by any ur- gency of remonstrance, to give your- selves to 'the considering what you know. We are too well aware that the prevailing on a man to consider his ways lies far beyond the power of hu- man persuasion ; seeing that the mind can evade all external control, and, if it do not bind itself, can defy every at- tempt to overrule or direct. But we can give you certain of those process- es of thought which would almost ne- cessarily be followed out, where there were deep and solemn musings upon Deity. We may thus trace the connec- tion asserted in our text between con- sideration and fear. Though this will not compel you to consider for your- selves, it will leave you with less ex- cuse than ever if you rest content with mere knowledge ; it will show you what ought to be going forward iu your own minds, and thus take away the plea of ignorance, if any should be hardy enough to advance it. With this object, we will examine how fear of God is produced by con- sidering what we know of God, first iu his nature, and secondly in his works. Now we are all aware how power- ful a restraint is imposed, on the most dissolute and profane, by the presence of an individual who will not counte- nance them in their impieties. So long as they are under observation, they will not dare to yield to imperious desires : they must shrink into a solitude ere they will perpetrate crime, or give in- dulgence to lusts. We can feel confi- dent in respect of the most worldly- minded amongst you, that, if there could be always at his side an indivi- dual of whom he stood in awe, and whose good opinion he was anxious to cultivate, he would abstain from many of his cherished gratifications, and walk, comparatively, a course of self-denial and virtue. He would be ar- rested in far the greater part of his purposes, if he knew that he was act- ing under the eye of this individual ; and it would only be when assured that the inspection was suspended or with- drawn, that he would follow unreser- vedly the bent of his desires. But it is amongst the most surprising of mo- ral phenomena, that the effect, which would be produced by a human in- spector, is scarcely ever produced by a divine. If a man can elude the obser- vation of his fellow-men, he straight- way acts as though he had eluded ail observation : place him where there is no other of his own race, and he will feel as if, in the strictest sense, alone. The remembrance that the eye of Deity is upon him, that the infinite God is continually at his side — so that there is absurdity in speaking of a solitude ; every spot throughout the expansions of space being inhabited by the Al- mighty — this remembrance, we say, is without any practical eflect ; or rather 23 194 ON THE EFFECTS OF CONSIDERATION. the fact, though universally known, is not considered; and therefore the man, though in contact with his Maker, fan- cies himself in loneliness, and acts as if certain of being unobserved. But let consideration be superadded to knowledge, and there will necessa- rily be produced a fear or dread of the Creator. There is nothing so over- whelming to the mind, when giving it- self to the contemplation of a great first cause, as the omnipresence of God. That, if 1 were endowed with unlim- ited powers of motion, so that in a moment I might traverse unnumbered leagues, I could never for a lonely in- stant escape from God ; that he would remain at the spot I left, and yet be found at the spot I reached ; of all truths this is perhaps the most bewil- dering and incomprehensible, seeing that, more than any other, it separates the Infinite Being from all finite. But let me consider this truth ; let me, if it baffle my understanding, endeavor to keep it in active remembrance. Where- soever I am, and whatsoever I do, " thou, O God, seest me." Then it is not possible that the least item of my conduct may escape observation; that I can be so stealthy in my wickedness as to commit it undetected. Human laws are often severe in their enact- ments ; but they may be often trans- gressed without discovery, and there- fore with impunity. But there is no such possibility in regard to Divine laws. The Legislator himself is ever at my side. The murkiness of the mid- night shrouds me not from him. The solitariness of the scene is no proof against his presence. The depths of my own heart lie open to his inspec- tion. And thus every action, every word, every thought, is as distinctly marked as though there were none but myself in the universe, and all the watchfulness, and all the scrutiny of God, were employed on my deport- ment. What then 1 " when 1 consider, I am afraid of him." The more I re- flect, the more awful God appears. To break the law in the sight of the law- giver ; to brave the sentence in the face of the Judge ; there is a hardi- hood in this which would seem to over- pass the worst human presumption; and we can only say of the man who knows that he does this whensoever he ofliends, that he knows, but does not consider. Oh ! we are sure that an abiding sense of God's presence would put such a restraint on the outgoings of wick- edness, that, to make it universal were almost to banish impiety from the earth. We are sure that, if every man went to his business, or his recreation, fraught with the consciousness that the Being, who will decide his destiny for eterni- ty, accompanies him in his every step, observes all his doings, and scrutinizes all his motives, an apprehension of the dreadfulness of the Almighty, and of the utter peril of violating his precepts, would take possession of the whole mass of society ; and there would be a confession from all ranks and all ages, that, however they might have known God as the Omnipresent, and yet made light of his authority, when they con- sidered God as the Omnipresent, they were overawed and afraid of him. But again — it is not the mere feeling that God exercises a supervision over my actions, which will produce that dread of him which Job asserts in our text. The moral character of God will enter largely into considerations upon Deity, and vastly aggravate that fear which is produced by his omnipresence. Of course, it is not the certainty that a being sees me, which, of itself, will make me fear that being. There must be a further certainty, that the conduct to which I am prone is displeasing to him ; and that, if persisted in, it will draw upon me his vengeance. Let me then consider God, and determine, from his necessary attributes, whether there can be hope that he will pass over with- out punishment, which cannot escape his observation. We suppose God just, and we sup- pose him merciful ; and it is in settling, the relative claims of these properties, that men fancy they find ground for expecting impunity at the last. The matter to be adjusted is, how a being, confessedly love, can so yield to the demands of justice as to give up his creatures to torment ; and the difficul- ty of the adjustment makes way for the flattering persuasion, that love Avill hereafter triumph over justice, and that threatenings, having answered their purpose in the moral government of God, will not be so rigidly exacted as ON THE EFFECTS OF CONSIDERATION. 195 to interfere with the workings of un- bounded compassion. But it is not by considering that men encourage them- selves in the thought, that the claims of love and of justice will be found hereafter at variance, and that, in the contest between the two, those of love will prevail. Through not considering, men have hope in God ; let them only consider, and we are bold to say they will be afraid of God. If I do but reflect seriously on the love of my Maker, I must perceive it to be a disposition to produce the great- est amount of happiness, by upholding through the universe those principles of righteousness with whose overthrow misery stands indissolubly connected. But it is quite evident, that, when once evil has been introduced, this greatest amount of happiness is not that which would result from the unconditional pardon of every worker of evil. Such pardon would show the abandonment of the principles of righteousness, and therefore spread consternation and dis- may amongst the unfallen members of God's intelligent household. A benevo- lence which should set aside justice, would cease to be benevolence : it would be nothing but a weakness, which, in order to snatch a few from deserved nnisery, overturned the laws of moral government, and exposed my- riads to anarchy and wretchedness. And yet further — unless God be faith- ful to his threatenings, I have no war- rant for believing that he will be faith- ful to his promises ; if he deny himself in one, he ceases to be God, and there is an end of all reasonable hope that he will make good the other. So that however, on a hasty glance, and forming my estimate of benevo- lence from the pliancy of human sym- pathies, which are-wrought on by a tear, and not proof against complaint, I may think that the love of the Almighty will forbid the everlasting misery of any of his creatures ; let me consider, and the dreamy expectation of a weak and wo- manish tenderness will give place to apprehension and dread. I consider ; and I see that, if God be not true to his word, he confounds the distinctions be- tween evil and good, destroys his own sovereignty, and shakes the founda- tions of happiness through the universe. I consider J and I perceive that to let go unvisited the impenitent, would be to forfeit the character of a righteous moral governor, and to proclaim to every rank of intelligence, in all the circuits of immensity, that law Avas abolished, and disobedience made safe. I consider ; and I observe that a love, which triumphed over justice, could not be the love of a perfect being ; for the love of a perfect being, whatever its yearnings over myself, must include love of justice ; so that I trust to what God cannot feel, when 1 trust to a compassion which cannot allow punish- ment. And thus, when I consider there is no resting-place for the spirit in the flattering delusion, that, in the moment of terrible extremity, Avhen the misdo- ings of a long life shall have given in their testimony, mercy will interpose between justice and the criminal, and ward off" the blow, and welcome to happiness. Every attribute of Deity, benevolence itself as well as justice, and holiness, and truth, rises against the delusion, and warns me that to che- rish it is to go headlong to destruc- tion. The theory that God is too lov- ing to take vengeance, will not bear being considered. The notion that the judge will prove less rigid than the lawgiver, will not beav being consider- ed. The opinion that the purposes of a moral government may have been an- swered by the threatening, so as not to need the infliction, will not bear be- ing considered. And therefore, if I have accustomed myself to such a re- presentation of Deity as makes bene- volence, falsely so called, the grave of every other attribute ; and if, allured by such representation, I have quieted anxiety, and kept down the pleadings of conscience ; consideration will scat- ter the delusion, and gird me round with terrors ; v/hilst I look only on the surface of things, I may be confident, but when I consider, I am afraid. Oh! it is not, as some would per- suade you, the dream of gloomy and miscalcu'r-ting m.en, that a punishment, the very mention of which curdles the blood and makes the limbs tremble, awaits, through the long hereafter, those who set at naught the atonement eflected by Christ. It is not the pic- ture of a diseased imagination, nursed in error and trammelled by enthusiasm, 196 ON THE EFFECTS OF CONSIDERATION. that of God, who now plies us with the overtures of forgiveness, coming forth with all the artillery of v/rath, and dealing out vengeance on those who have " done despite to the spirit of crace." We bring the dream to the ri- gid investigations of wakefulness ; we expose the picture to the microscopes of the closest meditation ; and when men would taunt us with our belief in unutterable torments, portioned out hy a Creator who loves, (with a love over- passing language,) the very meanest of his creatures; and when they would smile at our credulity in supposing that God can act in a manner so repugnant to his confessed nature ; we retort on them at once the charge of adopting an unsupported theory. We tell them, that, if with them we could escape from thought, and smother reflection, then with them we might give harborage to the soothing persuasion that there is no cause for dread, and that God is of too yearning a compassion to resign aught of humankind to be broken on the wheel or scathed by the fire. But it is in proportion as the mind fastens itself upon Gad that alarm is excited. Thought, in place of dissipating, gene- rates terror. And thus, paralyze my reason, debar me from every exercise of intellect, reduce me to the idiot, and I shall be careless and confident : but leave me the equipment and use of mental faculties, and " when I consid- er, I am afraid of him." But the connection between consid- eration and fear will be yet more evi- dent, if the works of God engage our attention. We have hitherto consider- ed only the nature of God. But if we now meditate on either creation or re- demption, under which two divisions we may class the works of God, we shall find additional proof of the truth of the saying, '' when I consider, I am afraid of him." Now we readily admit that a fear, or dread, of the Almighty is not the feel- ing ordinarily excited by the magnifi- cence of the heavens, or the loveliness of a landscape. It most frequently hap- pens, unless the mind be so morally deadened as to receive no impressions from the splendid panorama, that senti- ments of warm admiration, and of con- fidence in God as the benignant Pa- rent of the universe, are elicited by exhibitions of creative wisdom and might. And we are enough from de- signing to assert, that the exhibitions are not calculated to produce such sen- timents. We think that the broad and varied face of nature serves as a mir- ror, in which the christian may trace much that is most endearing in the cha- racter of his Maker. We should reck- on it fair evidence against the piety of an individual, if he could gaze on the stars in their courses, or travel over the provinces of this globe, and mark with what profusion all that can minister to human happiness is scattered around, and yet be conscious of no ascendings of heart towards that benevolent Fa- ther who bath given to man so glo- rious a dwelling, and overarched it with so brilliant a canopy. Where there is a devout spirit, we are sure that the placing a man whence he may look forth on some majestic develop- ment of scenery, on luxuriant ^'alleys, and the amphitheatre of mountains, and the windings of rivers, is the placing him where he will learn a new lesson in theology, and grow warmer in his love of that Eternal Being " who in the beginning created the heavens and the earth." But we speak now of what is adapted to the producing fear of God in the careless and unconverted man : and we say that it is only through want of con- sideration that such fear is not excited by the works of creation. -The uncon- verted man, as well as the converted, can take delight in the beauties of na- ture, and be conscious of ecstasy of spirit, as his eje gathers in the won- ders of the material universe. But the converted man, whilst the mighty pic- ture is before him, and the sublime features and the lovely successively fasten his admiration, considers who spread out the landscape and gave it its splendor ; and from such consider- ation he derives fresh confidence in the God whom he feels to be his God, pledged to uphold him, and supply his every want. The unconverted man, on the contrary, will either behold the ar- chitecture without givina: a thought to the architect ; or, observing how ex- quisite a regard for his well-being may be traced in the arrangements of crea- tion, will strengthen himself in his ap- peal to the compassions of Deity, by ON THE EFFECTS OF CONSIDEHATION. 197 the tender solicitudes of which he can thus prove himself the subject. If he gather any feeling from the spread ings of the landscape, beyond that high- wrought emotion which is wakened by the noble combinations of rock, and lake, and cloud, and forest — ^just as though all the poetry of the soul were responding to some melodious and magnificent summons — it is only the feeling that God is immeasurably be- nevolent ; and that, having been so careful of man's happiness in time, he Avill not abandon him to wretchedness through eternity. But we should like to bring this ro- mantic and Arcadian theology to the test of consideration. We believe, that, if we could make the man consider, he would not be encouraged by the tokens of loving-kindness with which all na- ture is charactered, to continue the life of indiflerence 'or dissoluteness. There are two ideas which seem to us furnished by the works of creation, when duly considered. The first is, that nothing can withstand God ; the second, that nothing can escape him. When I muse on the stupendousness of creation; when I think of countless worlds built out of notiiing by the sim- ple word of Jehovah ; my conviction is that God must be irresistible, so that the opposing him is the opposing Om- nipotence. But if I cannot withstand God, I may possibly escape him. Insig- nificant as I am, an inconsiderable unit on an inconsiderable globe, may I not be overlooked by this irresistible Be- ing, 3nd thus, as it were, be sheltered by my littleness 1 If I would answer this question, let me consider creation in its minutest departments. Let me examine the least insect, the anima- ted thing of a day and an atom. How it glows with deity ! How busy has God been Vv'ith polishing the joints, and feathering the wings, of this almost im- perceptible recipient of life ! How care- fully has he attended to its every want, supplying profusely whatever can glad- den its ephemeral existence ! Dare I think this tiny insect overlooked by God 1 Wonderful in its structure, beau- tiful in its raiment of the purple and the gold and the crimson, surrounded abundantly by all that is adapted to the cravings of its nature, can I fail to re- gard it as fashioned by the skill, and watched by the providence, of him who " meted out heaven with a span, and measured the waters in the hollow of his hand 1" It were as easy to persuade me, when considering, that the arch- angel, moving in majesty and burning with beauty, is overlooked by God, as that this insect, liveried as it is in splendor and throned in plenty, is un- observed by Him who alone could have formed it. And if the least of animated things be thus subject to the inspections of God, who or what shall escape those inspections, and be screened by its in- significance 1 Till I consider, I may fancy, that, occupied with the affairs of an unbounded empire, our Maker can give nothing more than a general at- tention to the inhabitants of a solitary planet ; and that consequently an indi- vidual like myself may well hope to escape the severity of his scrutiny. But when I consider, I go from the planet to the atom. I pass from the population of this globe, in the infancy of their immortality, to the breathing particles which must perish in the hour of their birth. And I cannot find that the atom is overlooked. I cannot find that one of its fleeting tenantry is un- observed and uncared for. I consider then ; but consideration scatters the idea, that, because I am but the insig- nificant unit of an insignificant race, " God will not see, neither will the Holy One of Israel regard." And thus, by considering the works of creation, I reach the persuasion that nothing can escape God, just as before that no- thing can withstand him. What then will be the feeling which consideration generates in reference to God '( I con- sider God as revealed by creation ; and he appears before me with a might which can crush every offender, and with a scrutiny which can detect every ofTence. Oh then, if it be alike impos- sible to resist God, and to conceal from God, is he not a being of whom to stand in awe ; and shall I not again confess, that "when I consider, I am afraid of him 1" We would just observe, in order to the completeness of this portion of our argument, that it must be want of consideration which makes us read on- ly God's love in the works of creation. We say of the man who infers nothing' 198 ON THE EFFECTS OF CONSIDEKATION. but the benevolence of Deity from the firmament and the landscape, just as though no other attribute were graven on the encompassing scenery, that he contents himself with a superficial glance, or blinds himself to the traces of wrath and devastation. That we live in a disorganized section of the universe; that our globe has been the scene and subject of mighty convul- sions ; we hold these facts to be as legi- ble in the lineaments of nature, as that *' the Lord is good to all, and his ten- der mercies are over all his works." There is a vast deal in the appearances of the earth, and in the phenomena of the elements, to assure us that evil has been introduced amongst us, and has already provoked the vengeance of God. So that a considering man, if he make the visible creation the object of his reflection, will reach the conclu- sion, that, whatever may be the com- passions of his Maker, he can interfere for the punishment of iniquity — a con- clusion which at once dissipates the hope, that the love of God will miti- gate, if not remove, deserved penal- ties, and which therefore strengthens our proof that, when we consider, we shall be afraid of God. But we have yet, in the last place, to speak briefly on the noblest of God's works, the work of redemption. Is it possible that, if I consider this work, I shall be afraid of God 1 We premise that, throughout our discourse, we have endeavored to deal with popular delusions, and to show you how con- sideration, superadded to knowledge, would rouse the careless and indiffer- ent. We have maintained, all along, that the mere knowledge of truths may lie inertly in the mind, or furnish ground-work for some false and flatter- ing hypothesis. But this is saying no- thing against the worth or tendency of these truths ; it is wholly directed against the not considering what we know. Thus the question with respect to redemption is simply, whether this scheme, as known by the mass of men, may not lull those fears of God which ought to be stirring in their breasts ; and whether this scheme, as consider- ed, would not make them afraid of God 1 We learn from the Epistles, that there may be such a thing as continu- ing in sin that grace may abound — a fact which sufficiently shows that redemp- tion may be abused ; and if abused, it is, we argue, through not being considered. It is our duty, as a minister of the Gospel of Christ, to dwell largely on the love which God feels towards sin- ners, and to point continually to the demonstration of that love in the gift of his only and well-beloved Son. We cannot speak in over-wrought terms of the readiness of the Almighty to for- give, and of the amplitude of the atone- ment efl^ected by the Meditator. We are charged with the offer of pardon to the whole mass of human kind : enough that a being is man, and we are instructed to beseech him to be re- conciled to God. And a glorious truth it is, that no limitations arc placed on the proffered forgiveness; but that, Christ having died for the world, the world, in all its departments and ge- nerations, may take salvation " without money and Avithout price." We call it a glorious truth, because there is thus every thing to encourage the meanest and unworthiest, if they will close with the offer, and accept deliverance in the one appointed way. But then it is quite possible that the gospel offers, thus cheering to the humble and contrite, may be wrested into an encourage- ment to the obdurate and indifferent. Men may know that God has so loved them as to give his Son to die for them ; and then, through not consider- ing, may imagine that a love thus stu- pendously displayed, can never permit the final wretchedness of its objects. The scheme of redemption, though it- self the most thrilling homily against sin, may be viewed by those Avho would fain build on the uncovenanted mercies of God, as proving a vast improbability that creatures, so beloved as ourselves, and purchased at so inconceivable a price, will ever be consigned to the ministry of vengeance. Hence, because they know the fact of this redemption, the careless amongst you have hope in God ; but, if they considered this fact, they would be afraid of him. There is nothing which, Avhen deep- ly pondered, is more calculated to ex- cite fears of God, than that marvellous interposition on our behalf which is the alone basis of legitimate hope. When I consider redemption, what a picture of God's hatred of sin rises before me j 0^J THE EFFECTS OF CONSIDEEATION. 199 what an exhibition of his resolve to al- low justice to exact all its claims. The smoking cities of the plain j the de- luged earth with its overwhelmed po- pulation ; the scattered Jews, strewing the globe like the fragments of a mighty shipwreck — nothing can tell me so em- phatically as Christ dying, "the just for the unjust," how (iod abhors sin, and how determined he is to punish sin. And if God could deal so awfully and terribly with his own Son, when bear- ing the weight of imputed transgres- sion, will he spare me — oh, it is as though he loved me better than his Son — if I appear before him with the bur- den of unrepented sins ; if, perverting his efforts to turn me from iniquity into encouragements to brave all his threatenings, I build on the atonement whilst I break the commandments ? I consider God as manifested in redemp- tion ; he shows himself a holy God, and therefore do I fear him. He displays his determination to take vengeance, and therefore do I fear him. He ex- hibits the fixed principles of his moral government, and therefore do I fear him. He bids the sword awake against his fellow, and therefore do I fear him. He writes the condemnation of the im- penitent in the blood which cleanses those who believe, and therefore do I fear him. Oh, I might cast a hasty glance at the scheme of redemption, and observe little more than the un- measured loving-kindness which it manifests. I might gather from it the preciousness of the human soul in God's sight, a preciousness so vast that its loss must be a catastrophe at which the universe shudders, seeing its re- demption was effected amid the throes and convulsions of nature. And this might confirm me in the delusion that I may sin with impunity. But let me reflect on the scheme, and God is be- fore me, robed in awfulness and clothed with judgment, vindicating the majesty of his insulted law and relaxing not one tittle of its penalties, bearing out to the letter the words of the prophet, "the Lord will take vengeance on his adversaries, and he reserveth wrath for his enemies;" and therefore it must be with redemption, as it is with creation, When I consider, I am afraid of him." And now, brethren, Avhat words shall we use of you but these of Moses, '' that they were wise, that they under- stood this, that they would consider their latter endl" We simply wish to bring you to consider; and then, we believe, you will both discover what is duty, and determine to follow it. This is the sum of what we have to urge in respect to the charity which now solicits your support. Consider what is your duty towards your be- nighted countrymen, and we have no fears of your failing to be liberal in your contribution. It is only through the not considering, the not consider- ing that you are merely stewards of your property, the not considering that Christ is to be ministered to in the per- sons of the destitute, the not consider- ing that " he that hath pity on the poor lendeth to the Lord ;" it is only from such causes as these, so palpable and urgent is the duty, that you can fail to give hearty support to the institution which now appeals to your bounty. The exclusive object of the Irish Soci- ety is to communicate religious know- ledge to the peasantry of Ireland through the medium of the Irish lan- guage. There are nearly three mil- lions of individuals in Ireland who can speak the Irish language ; and of these, at ieast five hundred thousand can speak no other. There are five hun- dred thousand of your countrymen, to whom the Hebrew tongue would be as intelligible as the English ; and who can no more be approached through the medium of our national speech, than the rude Hottentot or the Arab of the desert. And this is not all. There are indeed hundreds, and thousands in Ireland, who understand and speak the English tongue as well as the Irish j but it does not follow that they are as ready to receive religious instruction through the one as through the other. The case is just the reverse. I cannot express to you the attachment, the de- voted and even romantic attachment, which an Irish-speaking peasant has for his native dialect. It is a chivalrous attachment. It is even a superstitious attachment. He believes that ho here- tic can learn Irish, and that consequent- ly nothing but truth can be written or spoken in Irish. And thus, if you will only take advantage of his prejudices, you can at once induce him to receive and read the Holy Scriptures. Give 200 ON THE EFFECTS OF CONSIDERATION. him an English Bible, and he will scarce- ly dare open it, because pronounced he- retical by his priest. But give him an Irish Bible, and no menaces can induce its surrender ; the book is in Irish, and he knows therefore that it cannot con- tain heresy. And does not this demon- strate the importance of employing the Irish language as a vehicle for the communication ofreligious instruction ; and does not a Society, which is act- ing through this language, come be- fore you with special claims on your liberal support 1 I turn to Ireland, and I perceive that nature has done much for that which poetry calls the emerald isle of the ocean. There is fertility in her soil, and majesty in her mountains, and lux- uriance in her valleys, and a loveliness in her lakes, Avhich makes them rivals to those in which Italian skies glass their deep azure. And the character of her children is that of a lofty and ge- nerous heroism ; for I believe not that there is a nation under heaven, possess- ing more of the elements than belong to the Irish, of what is bold, and disin- terested, and liberal. And without ques- tion it is a phenomenon, at which we may well be startled and amazed, to behold Ireland, in spite of the advan- tages to which I have referred, in spite of her close alliance wjth the home and mistress of arts and liberty, torn by in- testine factions, and harassed by the feuds and commotions of her tenant- ry. Of such phenomenon the solution would be hopeless, if we did not know that Ireland is oppressed by a bigoted faith, bestrid by that giant corrupter of Christianity, who knows, and acts on the knowledge, that to enlighten ig- norance were to overthrow his empire. It is because Ireland is morally benight- ed that she is physically degraded; and the engines which must be turned on her, to raise her to her due rank in the scale of nations, are religious rather than political; she can be thorough- ly civilized only by being thoroughly christianized. And certainly, if there were ever a time when it was incumbent upon pvo- testants to labor at spreading the pure Gospel through Ireland, this is that time. Popery is making unparalleled efforts to exp'il protestantism altoge- ther. Shall then the protestantism of England stand tamely by, as though it had no interest in the struggle \ We are persuaded, on the contrary, that, as protestants, you will feel it alike your duty, and your privilege, to aid to the best of your ability institutions which provide a scriptural instruction for the peasantry of Ireland. And whilst we gladly confess that other societies have labored vigorously and successfully for this great object, Ave think, from the reasons already advanced, that none employs a more admirable agency than that for which we plead ; and therefore are v/e earnest in entreating for it your liberal support. The Irish Society will bear being considered; we ask you to consider its claims, and we feel conlident you will acknowledge their urgency. I cannot add more. I may have al- ready detained you too long ; but I know not when I may speak again in this place ; and I desire, ere I go, to have proof, from your zeal for the souls of others, that you are anxious in regard to your own salvation. We must fear of many amongst you, that they hear sermons, but do not consider. Companions die around them, but they do not consider. They meet funerals as they walk the streets, but they do not consider. They are warned bj- sick- ness and affliction, but they do not con- sider. They feel that age is creeping upon them, but they do not consider. What shall we say to you 1 Will ye continue to give cause for the applica- tion to yourselves of those touching words of God by his prophet, " The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib, but Israel doth not know, my people doth not consider V Preach- ers cannot make you consider. They exhort you, they entreat you, they tell you of a Savior, and of the utter ruin of going on still in your wickedness. But they cannot make you consider. You must consider for yourselves: you must, for yourselves, ask God's Spirit to aid you in considering. Would that you might consider ; for when the trumpet is sounding, and the dead are stirring, you will be forced to consider, though it will be too late for consider- ation to produce any thing but unmin- gled terror — Oh, can you tell me the agony of being compelled to exclaim at the judgment, " when I considfer, I am afraid of Him 1" X 837, SERMON. THE TWO SONS. ** But what think ye ! A certain man had two sons ; and he came to the first, and said, Son, go work to-day in my vineyard. He answered and said, I will not ; but afterward he repented and went. And he came to the second, and said likewise. And he answered and said, I go, Sir, and went not,"— St. Matthew, 21 : 28, 29, 30, Our Savior had such knowledge of the human heart, and such power of expressing that knowledge, that he fre- quently gives us, in one or two bold outlines, descriptions of great classes into which the world, or the church, may be divided. There is no more re- markable instance of this than the pa- rable of the sower, with which we may suppose you all well acquainted. In that parable Christ furnishes descrip- tions of four classes of the hearers of the Gospel, each description being brief, and fetched from the character of the soil on which the sower cast his seed. But the singularity is, that these four classes include the whole mass of hearers, so that, when combined, they make up either the world or the church. You cannot imagine any fifth class. For in every man who is brought with- in sound of the Gospel, the seed must be as that by the wayside, which is quickly carried away, or as that on shallow soil where the roots cannot strike, or as that among thorns which choke all the produce, or finally, as that which, falling on a well-prepared place, yields fruit abundantly. You may try to find hearers who come not under any one of these descriptions, but you will not succeed ; whilst, on the other hand, the world has never yet presented an assemblage of mixed hear- ers, which might not be resolved into these four divisions. And we regard it I as an extraordinary evidence of the sagacity, if the expression be law^- ful, of our Lord, of his superhuman penetration, and of his marvellous fa- cility in condensing volumes into sen- tences, that he has thus furnished, in few words, a sketch of the whole world in its every age, and given us, within the compass of a dozen lines, the moral history of our race, as acted on by the preaching of the Gospel. We make this reference to the parable of the sower, because we consider it rivalled in its comprehensiveness, and the unvarying accuracy of its descrip- tions, by the portion of Holy Writ on which we now purpose to discourse. We do not mean that the two sons can represent the whole world, or the whole church, in the same manner or degree as the four classes of hearers. There would manifestly be a contradiction in this ; for if there be four parts into which the whole may be divided, it were absurd to contend for the equal propriety of a division into two. But we nevertheless believe that two very large classes of persons, subsisting in every age of the church, are represent- ed by the two sons, and that, there- fore, in delivering the parable before us, as well as that of the sower, Christ displayed his more than human ac- quaintance with mankind, and his power of delineating, by the simplest 26 202 THE TWO SONS. figures, the reception of his Gospel to I the very end of time. All this, how- ever, will become more evident, as we proceed with the exposition of the passage, and show you, as we think to do, that centuries have made no difference in. the faithfulness of the sketch. You will observe that the parable, or illustration, or real history — for it mat- ters little which term you assign to this portion of Scripture — is introduced by our Lord, whilst holding a discourse with the priests and elders in the tem- ple. They had come round him, de- manding by what authority he acted — as though he had not given sufficient- ly clear proof that his mission was from God. Where the demand was so unreasonable, Jesus would not vouch- safe a direct answer. He therefore made his reply conditional on their telling him whether the baptism of John was from heaven or of men. He thus brought them into a dilemma from which no sophistry could extricate them. If they allowed the divine cha- racter of John's baptism, they laid themselves open to the charge of gross inconsistency, in not having believed him, and in denying the Messiahship of him whom he heralded. But if, on the other hand, they uttered what they really thought, and affirmed John's baptism to have been of men, they felt that they should excite the multitude against themselves, inasmuch as the people held the Baptist for a prophet. They therefore thought it most pru- dent to pretend ignorance, and to de- clare themselves unable to decide whence the baptism was. Hence, the condition on which Christ had promis- ed to answer their question not having been fulfilled, they could not press him Avith any further inquiry, but remained in the position of disappointed and baf- fled antagonists. It consisted not however with the Savior's character, that he should con- tent himself with gaining a triumph over opponents, as though he had rea- soned only for the sake of display. He had severely mortified his bitter- est enemies, by turning their weapons against themselves, and bringing them into a strait in which they were expo- sed to the contempt of the bystanders. But it was their good which he sought ; and when, therefore, he had silenced them, he would not let slip the oppor- tunity of setting before them their con- dition, and adding another warning to the many which had been uttered in vain. The declaration of ignorance in regard to John's baptism, suggested the course which his remonstrance should take, according to his well- known custom of allowing the occa- sion to furnish the topic of his preach- ing. He delivers the parable which forms our subject of discourse, and im- mediately follows it up by the ques- tion, ''whether of them twain did the will of his father V There was no room here for either doubt or evasion. It was so manifest that the son, who had refused at first, but who had after- wards repented and gone to the vine- yard, was more obedient than the other, who had made a profession of willing- ness, but never redeemed his promise, that even priests and elders could not avoid giving a right decision. And now Christ showed what his motive had been in delivering the parable, and proposing the question ; for so soon as he had obtained their testi- mony in favor of the first son, he said to them, " Verily I say unto you that the publicans and the harlots go into the kingdom of God before you." We gather at once, from this start- ling and severe saying, that, by the second son in the parable, Christ in- tended the leading men among the Jews, and, by the first, those despised and profligate ranks with which phari- sees and scribes would not hold the least intercourse. The publicans and harlots, as he goes on to observe, had received John the Baptist; for nun)- bers had repented at his preaching. But the priests and elders, 'according to their own confession just made, had not acknowledged him as coming from God, and had not been brought by him to amendment of life. And this was precisely the reverse of what the pro- fession of the several parties had given right to expect. The priests and el- ders, making a great show of religion, and apparently eager expectants of the promised Messiah, seemed only to re- quire to be directed to the vineyard, and they would immediately and cheer- fully go. On the other hand, the pub- THE TWO SONS. 203 licans and harlots, persons of grossly immoral and profligate habits, might be said to declare, by their lives, an obstinate resolve to continue in diso- bedience, so that, if told to go work in the vineyard, their answer would be a contemptuous refusal. Yet when the matter came to be put to the proof, the result was widely different from what appearances had promised. The great men amongst the Jews, whose whole profession was that of parties waiting to know, that they might perform, God's will, were bidden by the Bap- tist to receive Jesus as their Savior; but, notwithstanding all their promises, they treated him as a deceiver, and would not join themselves to his dis- ciples. The same message was deliv- ered to the publicans and harlots ; but these, whatever the reluctance which they manifested at first, came in crowds to hear Jesus, and took by force the kingdom of heaven. And all this was aptly illustrated by the parable before us. The great men were the second son ; for they had said, " I go, sir," and yet they went not : the publicans and harlots Avere the first son ; for though, when bidden, they refused, yet afterwards they repented and went. Such was evidently the import and design of the parable, as originally de- livered by Jesus. It is possible indeed that there may have been also a refer- ence to the Jew and the Gentile ; the two sons representing, as they else- where do, these two great divisions of mankind. The Jews, as a nation, were aptly figured by the second son, the Gentiles by the first. Both had the same father — seeing that, however close the union between God and the Jews, and however the Gentiles had been left, for centuries, to themselves, there was no difference in origin, inasmuch as the whole race had the same Lord for its parent. And the Jews stood ready to welcome their Messiah ; whereas little could be expected from the Gentiles, sunk as they were in ignorance and superstition, but that, if directed to a Savior, they would treat with contempt the free offer of life. Here again how- ever the event was the reverse of the expectation. The Gospel made little way amongst the Jews, where there had been every promise of a cordial reception ; but rapidly overran the Gentile world, where there had seem- ed least likelihood of its gaining any ground. So that once more the para- ble, if taken in the light of a prophecy, was accurately fulfilled. The Jew, as the second son, had promised to go and work in the vineyard, and then never went: the Gentile, as the first son, had peremptorily refused, but af- terwards saw his error, and repented, and obeyed. But whilst there may be great jus- tice in thus giving the parable a ra- tional, or temporary application, our chief business is to treat it, according to our introductory remarks, as de- scriptive of two classes in every age of the church. It is this which we shall now proceed to do, believing that it furnishes, in a more than common degree, the material of interesting and instructive discourse. Now it is a very frequent image in Scripture, that which represents the Church of Christ as a vineyard, and ourselves as laborers who have been hired to work in that vineyard. We shall not, on the present occasion, en- large on this image, nor take pains to show you its beauty and fidelity. We shall find enough to engage us in the other parts of the parable, and may therefore assume what you are proba- bly all prepared to admit. We go then at once to the message which is deliv- ered to each of the sons, " Son, go work to-day in my vineyard." It is precisely the message, which. Sabbath after Sabbath, is uttered in God's name by the ordained ministers of Christ. We are never at liberty to make you any offers for to-morrow, but must always tell you, that, " if to-day you will hear his voice," he is ready to receive you into the vineyard of his church. And it is not to a life of inac- tivity and idleness that we are bidden to summon you, not to that inert de- pendence on the merits of another, which shall exclude all necessity for personal striving. We call you, on the contrary, to work in the vineyard. If you think to be saved without labor ; if you imagine, that, because Christ has done all that is necessary, in the way of merit, there remains nothing to be done by yourselves in the v.ay of condition, you are yielding to a de- lusion which must be as wilful as it 204 THE TWO SONS. will be fatal — the whole tenor of Scrip- ture unreservedly declaring, that, if you would enter into life, you must " work out your salvation with fear and trembling." And thus the mes- sage, " Son, go work to-day in my vineyard," is, in every respect, that which God is continually addressing to you through the mouth of his min- istering servants, a message declara- tory that " now is the accepted time," and requiring you to put forth every energy that you may escape '' the wrath to come." And now the question is, as to the re- ception with which this message meets ; and whether there be not two great classes of its hearers who are accurate- ly represented by the two sons in the parable. We do not pretend to affirm, as we have already intimated, that the whole mass of unconverted men may fairly be resolved under the two divi- sions thus figuratively drawn. We are well aware of the prevalence of an in- difference and apathy, which can hardly be roused to any kind of answer, either to a specious promise, made only to be broken, or to a harsh refusal which may perhaps be turned into compliance. But without pretending to include all under these divisions, we may and do believe that the multitude is very large which maybe thus defined and classified. We suppose, that, after all, most way is made by the preachers of the Gospel when there seems least prospect of success ; and that, as it was in the days Avhen Christ was on earth, those who promise fairest give most disappoint- ment, whilst the harvest is reaped where we looked only for sterility. This how- ever is a matter which should be care- fully examined, and we shall therefore employ the remainder of our discourse in considering separately the cases of the two sons, beginning with that of the second, who said, '' 1 go, sir, and went not," and then proceeding to that of the first, who said, " I will not, but afterward he repented, and went." Now there is in many men a warmth of natural feeling, and a great suscep- tibility, which make them promising subjects for any stirring and touching appeal. They are easily excited; and both their fears and sympathies will readily answer to a powerful address, or a sorrowful narrative. They are not made of that harsh stuff which seems the predominant element in many men's constitutions ; but, on the contrary, are yielding and malleable, as though the moral artificer might work them, with- out difficulty, into what shape he would. We are well convinced that there are many who answer this description in every congregation, and therefore in the present. It is far from our feelings that, when we put forth all our earnest- ness in some appeal to the conscience^ or come down upon you with our warm- est entreaty, that you would accept the deliverance proposed by the Gospel, we are heard on all sides with coldness and indifference. We have quite the opposite feeling. We do not doubt, that,^ as the appeal goes forward, and the en- treaty is pressed, there are some who are conscious of a warmth of senti- ment, and a melting of heart; and in whom there is excited so much of a determination to forsake sin, and obey God, that, if we could ply each with the command, " go, work to-day in my vineyard," we should receive a pro- mise of immediate compliance." It is not that these men or these wo- men are undergoing a change of heart, though there may be that in the feelings thus excited, which, fairly followed out, would lead to a thorough renovation. It is only that they are made of a ma- terial on which it is very easy to work; but which, alas, if it have great facility in receiving impressions, may have just as much in allowing them to be effaced. And what is done by a faithful sermon is done also by providential dispensa- tions, when God addresses these par- ties through some affliction or bereave- ment. If you visit them, when death has entered their households, you find nothing of the harshness and reserve of sullen grief; but all that openness to counsel, and all that readiness to own the mercy of the judgment which seem indicative of such a softening of the heart as promises to issue in its genu- ine conversion. If you treat the chas- tisement under which they labor as a message from God, and translate it thus into common language, "Son, go work to-day in my vineyard," you meet with no signs of dislike or reluctance, but rather with a ready assent that you give the true meaning, and with a frank reso- lution that God shall not speak in vain. THE TWO SONS. 205 We put it to yourselves to determine whether we are not describing a com- mon case ; wlietlier, if you could dis- sect our congregations, you would not find a large mass of persons who seem quite accessible to moral attack ; whom you may easily startle by a close ad- dress to the conscience, or overcome by a pathetic and plaintive description; and on whom when affliction falls, it falls with that subduing and penetrating power which gives room for hope that it will bring them to repentance. And wheresoever these cases occur, they may evidently, so far as Ave have gone, be identified with that of the second son in the parable ; for whilst the ad- dress to the parties is one which urges to the working in the vineyard, their answer has all the promise, and all the respectfulness, contained in the '' I go, sir," of our text. But the accuracy of the delineation does not end here. We must follow these excited listeners from the place of assembling, and these subdued mourners from the scene of affliction. Alas, how soon is it apparent that what j is easily roused maj'' be as easily lulled ; and that you have only to remove the incumbent weight, and the former figure is regained. The men who have been all attention to the preacher, whom he seemed to have brought completely under command, so that they were ready to follow him whithersoever he would lead, settle back into their list- lessness when the stimulant of the ser- mon is withdrawn ; and those, whom the fires of calamity appeared to have melted, harden rapidly into their old ' constitution when time has somewhat damped the intenseness of the flame. The melancholy truth is, that the whole assault has been on their natural sensi- i bilities, on their animal feelings ; and i that nothing like spiritual solicitude ; has been produced, whether by the ser- ' mon or the sorrow. They have given much cause for hope, seeing they have I displayed susceptibility, and thus shown themselves capable of moral impres- sions. But they have disappointed ex- , . pectation, because they have taken no pains to distinguish between an instinct of nature and a work of God's Spirit, or rather, because they have allowed their feelings to evaporate in the form- ing a resolution, and have not set them- selves prayerfully to the carrying it into effect. And thus it comes to pass that men, on whom preaching seemed to have taken great hold, as though they were moved by the terrors, and animated by the hopes of Christianity ; or whom the visitations of Providence appeared to have brought to humility and contrition ; make no advances in the religion of the heart, but falsify the hopes which those who wish their salvation have ventured to cherish. And when surprise is expressed, and the reason is demanded, the only reply is, that there is yet a large class in the world, too faithfully delineated by the second son, who, when bidden by his father to go work in the vineyard, an- swered, " I go, sir," and went not. You may think, however, that we have not adduced precisely the case intended by the parable, inasmuch as these susceptible, but unstable, per- sons are not of the same class with the chief priests and elders. The second son was originally designed to denote the leading men among the Jews ; and, therefore, in seeking his present repre- sentatives, we seem bound to look for similarity to those to whom Christ ad- dressed the parable. This is so far true, that, although it impeaches not the accuracy of what has been advan- ced, it makes it necessary for us to con- tinue our examination, lest we bring within too narrow limits the class of men described. We have already hinted that there lie the greatest obstacles to the recep- tion of^'the Gospel, where, at first, we might have hoped for most rapid suc- cess. Thus with the chief priests and Pharisees. There was the most rigid attention to all the externals of religion, a professed readiness to submit to the revealed will of God, and an apparent determination to receive Christ, so soon as he should be manifested. Yet all this, as we have shown you, was no- thing more than the saying, " I go, sir ;" for when Christ actually came, they were displeased at his lowliness, and would not join him as their King and their Savior. And we are bound to say that we know not more unpromising subjects for the preaching of the Gos- pel, than those who are punctiliously attentive to the forms of religion, and who attach a worth and a merit to their 20G THE TWO SONS. careful performance of certain moral duties. We cannot have a more unpa- latable truth to deliver — but wo is unto us if we dare to keep it back — than that which exposes the utter insufficiency of the best human righteousness, and which tells men, who are amiable and charitable, and moral and upright, that, with all their excellencies, they may be further from the kingdom of heaven than the dissolute whom they regard with absolute loathing. The immedi- ate feeling is, that we confound virtue and vice ; and that, allowing no supe- riority to what is lovely and of good report, we represent God as. indifferent to moral conduct, and thus undermine the foundations on which society rests. But we are open to no such charge. We are quite alive to the beauty and advantageousness of that moral excel- lence which does not spring from a principle of religion, nay, which may even oppose the admission of the pecu- liar doctrines of Christianity. There is not a man for whom we have a greater feeling of interest, because there is not one of whom naturally we have a great- er admiration, than for him who is pass- ing through life with an unblemished reputation, sedulously attentive to all the relative duties, and taking gene- rously the lead in efforts to ameliorate the condition of his fellows, but who, all the while, has no consciousness of his own sinfulness, and who therefore rests on his own works, and not on Christ's merits. If you compare this man with a dissolute character, one who is outraging the laws of society and the feelings of humanity; and if you judge the two merely with refer- ence to the present scene of being; why, there is the widest possible dif- ference ; and to speak of the one as equally depraved, and equally vile, with the other, would be an overcharged statement, carrying its own confu- tation. But what is there to prove that there may not be just as much rebellion against God in the one case as in the other ; and that the man Avhose whole deportment is marked by what is praise- worthy and beneficial, may not be as void of all love towards the Author of his being, as he who, by his vices and villany, draws upon himself the execra- tions of a neighborhood 1 Try mea as members of society, and they are as widely separated as the poles of the earth. But try them as God's crea- tures, not their own, but " bought with a price," and you may bring them to the same level, or even prove the mo- ral and amiable further alienated than the dissolute and repulsive. Yes, fur- ther alienated. It is a hard saying, but we cannot pare it away. These up- right and charitable men, on whom a world is lavishing its applause, how will they receive us, when we come and tell them that they are sinners, who have earned for themselves eter- nal destruction ; and that they are no more secured against the ruin by their rectitude and philanthropy, than if they were the slaves of every vice, and the patrons of every crime 1 May we not speak of, at least, a high probability, that they will be disgusted at a state- ment which makes so light of their ex- cellence ; and that they will turn away from the doctrines of the Gospel, as too humiliating to be true, or as only con- structed for the very refuse of man- kind 1 Oh, we again say that we hardly know a more hopeless task than that of bringing the Gospel to bear on an individual who is trenched about with self-righteousness. If we are dealing with the openly immoral man, we can take the thunders of the law, and bat- ter at his conscience. We know well enough, that, in his case, there is a voice within which answers to the voice from without; and that, however he may harden himself against our re- monstrance, there is, at least, no so- phistry by which he can persuade him- self that he is not a sinner. This is a great point secured: we occupy a van- tage-ground, from which we may di- rect, with full power, all our moral ar- tillery. But when we deal with the man who is amiable, and estimable, and exemplary, but who, nevertheless, is a stranger to the motives of the Gospel, our very first assertion — for this must be our first; we cannot advance a step till this preliminary is felt and conced- ed — the assertion, that the man is a sinner, deserving only hell, arms against us his every antipathy, and is almost certain to call up such a might of op- position, that we are at once repulsed as unworthy further hearing. THE TWO SONS. 207 And how agrees this too frequent case with the sketching of our parable 1 We look upon men, whose virtues make them the ornaments of society, and whose zealous attention to the various duties of life deservedly secures them respect and esteem. You would gather from their deportment, from their ap- parent readiness to discharge faithfully every known obligation, that the set- ting before them what God requires at their hands would suffice to secure their xmwearied obedience. If you say to them, in the name of the Almighty, '' Son, go work to-day in my vine- yard," their answer, as furnished by all that seeming desire to act rightly which has forced itself on your attention, is one of sincere and hearty compliance. But so soon as they come to know what working in the vineyard means, alas, it is with them as it was with the pharisees and scribes, who, with every profession that they waited for Mes- siah, no sooner saw him ' without form or comeliness," than they scornfully refused to give him their allegiance. These self-righteous men are ready enough to work, because it is by works of their own that they think to gain heaven. But when they find that their great work is to be the renouncing their own works, and that the vineyard, in which you invite them to labor, is one in which man's chief toil is to humble himself, that Christ may be ex- alted — this gives the matter altogether a new aspect; they would labor at build- ing the tower of Babel, but they have no idea of laboring at pulling it down. And thus does it come to pass, that the ministers of the G ospel are repulsed with a more than common vehemence ; and that their message is thrown back, as though the delivering it had been an insult. We can but mourn over men, who, with every thing to recommend them to their fellows, honorable in their dealings, large in their charities, true in their friendships, are yet dis- honest to themselves and false to their God — dishonest to themselves, for they put a cheat on their souls; false to their God, for they give him not what he asks, and all else is worse than no- thing. Yes, we could lament, with a deeper than the ordinary lamentation which should be poured over every lost soul, when integrity and generosity, and patriotism and disinterestedness, all beautiful and splendid things, have only helped to confirm men in rejec- tion of the Gospel, and have strength- ened that dislike to the peculiar doc- trines of Christianity, which is natural to the heart, but which must be expel- led, else we perish. And when we are asked whether it can indeed be, that men, so amiable and admirable, who have a yearning heart for every tale of sorrow, and an open hand for every case of destitution, and an instinctive aversion to whatever is mean and de- grading, are treading the downward path which leads to the chambers of everlasting death, we can only say that the very qualities which seem to yoa to mark a fitness for heaven, have pre- vented the passage through that strait gate of the vineyard, which is wide enough for every sinner, but too nar- row for any sin ; and that thus has been paralleled the whole case of the second son, who said to his father, " I go, sir," and went not. And now we must have said enough to convince you that the delineation of our parable is not local or temporary, but may justly be extended to all ages of the church. We make this assertion, because though, as yet, we have only examined the case of one son, our re- marks have had an indirect bearing on that of the other. We have shown you that the obstacles to the reception of the truths of the Gospel are often greatest where appearances seem to augur the readiest welcome. Where the promise is most freely given, how frequently is the performance withheld. And though the converse of this may not be necessarily true, namely, that, where we have refusal at first, we may expect ultimate compliance, yet, un- doubtedly the case of the second son prepares us to feel no surprise at that of the first. If there be final refusal, where there is most of present con- sent, it can be no ways strange that there should be final consent, where there is most of present refusal. This it is which is represented to us in the instance of the first son. His fa- ther came to him, and said, " Son, go work to-day in my vineyard." "He an- swered and said, I will not ; but after- ward he repented and went." There could be nothing more discourteous, 20S THE TWO SONS. as well as nothing more peremptory, than the reply. He addresses his fa- ther with nothing of that respectful language which the second son used, and which might at least have soften- ed the refusal. There is a harshness and bluntness in the answer, which, in- dependently of the disobedience, prov- ed him of a churlish and unmanagea- ble temper. And we know, from the application which Christ himself made of the parable, that this first son is the representative of those more depraved and profligate characters, who make no profession of religion, but treat it with open contempt. There are many who will even go the length of boldly proclaiming their resolve to live "with- out God in the world," who glory in their shame ; and who think it for their credit, as marking a free and un- shackled spirit, that ihey have got rid of the restraints which the dread of future punishment imposes. Others again, who have not hardened them- selves to this desperate degree, seem yet wholly inaccessible to warning and reproof; for they have, at least, per- suaded themselves that they shall have a long lease of life, and that it will be soon enough at the eleventh hour to go and work in the vineyard. And in all such cases, whether we meet with the contemptuousness of unblushing immorality, or the coldness of deter- mined indifference, we have the un- qualified refusal which the first son gave his father — sometimes in a harsh- er, and at other times in a milder tone — but always the " I will not," which seems to preclude all hope of obedi- ence. These are the cases which seem most calculated to dispirit a minister; for it is even more disheartening to find that he makes no impression, than that, where it has been made, it has been quickly effaced. It is manifestly only the treacherous nature of the sur- face, which is in fault in the latter case; but in the former, he may fear that much of the blame is chargeable on his own want of energy in wielding his Aveapons. He may even, in mo- ments of despondency, be wrought in- to a suspicion that these weapons are not as mighty as he had been instruct- ed to believe. And therefore it is a marvellously cheering thing to be told of the first son, that, " afterward he re- pented and went." We do not believe that the precious seed of the word is all lost, because there is no immediate harvest. We remember that great principle in God's dealings, which is announced by St. Paul, '' That which thou sowest is not quickened, except it first die." It is often, we are persuaded, in spiritual things, as it is always in natural — the grain is long buried, and, to all appearance, lost ; but then sud- denly come the signs of vegetation, and the soil is pierced by the fresh green blade. We now address ourselves to those amongst you who have never entered the vineyard, who have never broken up the fallow ground, and sown to themselves in righteousness. We know not whether the number who fall under this description be great or small ; nor whether it be mainly composed of those living in open sin, or of those who are only indifferent to the high claims of religion. But we say to these men, and these women, go, work to-day in the vineyard. We call upon them, and en- treat them, that, whilst God yet strives with them by his Spirit, and the free offer of salvation is made them in his name, they would consider their ways, and turn unto the Lord, lest the evil day come upon them " as a thief." We anticipate Avhat will be practically their answer. There may indeed be a soli- tary exception. Even now may there be the casting down of some strong- hold of unbelief; and there may be one in this assembly, in whom our word is working energetically, convincing him of sin, and persuading him to make trial of Christ's power to save. But from the mass of those whom the first son represents, we can look for nothing but his answer ; and if we could single out the individuals, and bid them to the vineyard, "I will not" would be but too faithful an account of their replj^ And yet we do not necessarily con- clude that we have labored in vain. Oh no, far enough from this. The word, which we have spoken, may in many cases have gained a lodgment, though long years may elapse ere it put forth its vigor. If we could follow, through the remainder of their lives, those with whom we now seem to plead wholly in vain, we can feel that we should find a THE TT\'0 SOA"S. 209 1 day breaking upon some of then), full of the memory of this very hour and this very sermon ; and perceive that one cause or another had suddenly acted on the seed now sown, so that what we supposed dead was rapidly germina- ting. It is marvellous how often, in sickness or in sorrow, there will rush into the mind some long-forgotten text, some sentence, which was little heeded when first heard, but which settled it- self down in the inner man, to wait a time when, like the characters which a mysterious hand traced before the As- syrian in his revels, it might flash dis- may through every chamber of the spi- rit. The father's bidding, " go work to-day in my vineyard," uill rise into remembrance with a sudden and over- coming energy ; it may not have been heard for years, it may not have been thought of for years ; but when the man is brought low, and health is fail- ing him, and friends are forsaking him, he will seem to hear it, not less distinct- ly, and far more thrillingly, articulated, than when it fell disregarded from the lips of the preacher; and he will won- der at his own perverseness, and weep over his infatuation. We are sketching to you no imagi- nary case, but one which all, who have opportunities of reading men's spiritual histories, will tell you is of frequent oc- currence. The son who harshly says, "I will not," remembers the command and the refusal on some long after day, repents of his sinfulness, and hastens to the vineyard. The pathetic remon- strance of a parent with a dissolute child is not necessarily thrown away, because that child persists in his disso- luteness : it may come up, with all the touching tones of the well-remembered voice, when the parent has long lain in the grave, and work remorse and con- trition in the prodigal. The bold ad- dress of the minister to some slave of sensuality is not necessarily ineflectual, Jbecause its object departs unmoved and Unchanged, and brealcs not away from the base thraldom in which he is held. That address may ring in his ears, as though unearthly voices syllabled its words, when the minister's tongue has long been mute. "He, being dead, yet speaketh," are words which experience marvellously verifies in regard of those whose office it is to rebuke vice and animate to righteousness. They may be verified in the instance of some one who now hears me. I feel so en- couraged by the account of the first son, that I could even dare to prophesy the history of one or more in this as- sembly. There may be some to whom I never before preached the Gospel, and to whom I may never preach it again. I speak in ignorance. I know not how far this may be true on the present occasion. But I can imagine, that, in the throng which surrounds me, there is one to whom I speak for the first time, and who will never see me again till we meet at the judgment- seat of Christ. He may be in the vigor of his youth, life opening attractively before him, and the world wearing all that freshness and fairness with which it beguiles the unwary. And he will have no ear for the summonses of re- ligion. • It is in the name of the God of the whole earth that I conjure him to mortify the flesh, and fasten his afiec- ticns on things above. It is by his own majesty, his own dignity, as an immortal being, that I would stir him to the abandoning all low pursuits, and engaging in the sublime duties of righ- teousness. But he will not be persua- • ded. He has made his election ; and, v>'hen he departs from the house of God, it will be to return to the scenes and companions of his thoughtlessness and dissipation. Yet I do not despair of this man. I do not conclude my labor thrown away. I am looking forward to an hour, which may be yet very distant, when experience will have taught him the worthlessness of what he now seeks, or a broken constitution have incapaci- tated him for his most cherished plea- sures. The hour may not come whilst I am on the earth ; I may have long be- fore departed, and a stranger may be ministering in my place. But I shall be in that man's chamber, and I shall stand at his bed-side, and I shall repeat my now despised exhortation, 'ihere will be, as it were, a resurrection of the present scene and the present sermon. The words, which now hardly gain a hearing, but which, nevertheless, are burying themselves in the recesses of the mind, that they may wait an ap- pointed season, will be spoken to the very soul, and penetrate to the quick, and produce that codly sorrow which 27 210 THE DISPERSION AND RESTOKATION OF THE JEWS. worketh repentance. And when you ask me upon what I am bold enough to ground such a prophecy, and from what data I venture to predict that my sermon shall not die, but, though long forgotten, start finally into power and persuasiveness — my reply is, that the case of the first son in the para- ble must have cases which correspond to it in all ages of the church, and that we read of this son, that, though he refused, when bidden, to work in the vineyard, yet "afterward he re- pented and went." There are two cautions suggested by this latter part of our subject, and with these we would conclude. The first is to parents, and guardians, and ministers j in short, to all whose business it may be to counsel and instruct. Let not the apparent want of success induce you to relax in your endeavors. You see that he who gives you a flat refusal, may ultimately reward you better than he who gives you a fair promise. Be not, therefore, disheartened ; but rather act on the wise man's advice, " In the morn- ing sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thy hand ; for thou know- est not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or whether they both shall be alike good." Our second caution is to those who may be ready, with the first son, to give a direct refusal, when bidden to go and work in the vineyard. Let not the thought, that you may afterwards repent, encourage you in your determination that you will not yet obey. The man who presumes on what is told us of the first son will never, in all probability, be re- presented by that son. I may have hopes of a man whose moral slumbers I cannot at all break; I almost despair of a man whom I can so far awaken that he makes a resolution to delay. The determining to put off" is the worst of all symptoms : it shows that con- science has been roused, and then pa- cified ; and wo unto the man who has drugs with which he can lull conscience to sleep. Again therefore we tell you that the exhortation of the text is lim- ited as to time. " Go, work to-day in my vineyard." To-morrow the pulse may be still, and there is " no work nor wisdom in the grave." To-day ye are yet amongst the living, and may enroll yourselves with the laborers whose harvest shall be immortality. SERMON THE DISPERSION AND RESTORATION OF THE JEWS.* " O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killesl the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not! Behold, your house is left unto you desolate. For I say unto you, ye shall not see me henceforth till ye shall say, Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord."— St. Matthew, 23 : 37, 38, 39. These words occur in the Gospel of undoubtedly difl"erent. As given by St. St. Luke, as well as in that of St. Mat- j Luke, they form part of Christ's an- thew; but the times of delivery were i swer to certain Pharisees, who had ■ — — * — come to him with intelligence that He- • Preached on behalf of the London Society t rod sought to kill him. At this time, for the conversion of the Jews. . ' j as it would seem, our Savior was mak- THE DISPERSION AND KESTORATION OF THE JEWS. 211 ing his last circuit of Galilee, before his arrival at Jerusalem at the fourth passover. But, as given by St. Mat- thew, the words appear to have been the last which Christ uttered in public, having been delivered just before his final departure from the temple, on the evening, most probably, of the Wed- nesday in Passion-week. You cannot have any doubt, if you compare the passages in the two Evangelists, that the words were uttered on very differ- ent occasions, so that, if what they contain of prophecy may have had a seeming accomplishment between the two deliveries, we should still have to search for an ampler fulfilment. We make this remark, because, as you must all remember, when Christ made his public entry into Jerusalem from Bethany, a few days before his crucifixion, he was attended by a great multitude, who saluted him in the lan- guage of our text. "And they that went before, and that followed, cried, saying, Hosanna, blessed is he that Cometh in the name of the Lord." Had our text been found only in St. Luke, delivered on an occasion which preceded the triumphant reception of Christ, it might have been argued that what occurred at this reception fulfill- ed all its prophecy. Yet it would then have been easy to show that Christ must have referred to some more per- manent reception of himself than that given by an inconstant multitude, who, within a few days, were as vehement in demanding his crucifixion as they had been in shouting Kosanna. We are however spared the necessity of ad- vancing, or pressing, this argument, in- asmuch as the words, as recorded by St. Matthew, were uttered subsequent- ly to Christ's entry into Jerusalem, and could not, therefore, have been fulfill- ed by that event. It should further be remarked, that the saying, " Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the L0|rd," is taken from a Psalm, the liSth, which the Jews themselves interpreted of the Christ. It is the Psalm in which are found the remarkable words, " The stone which the builders refused is become the head-stone of the corner" — words which .Tesus brought to bear on the chief priests and scribes when they deprecated the taking the vineyard from the unfaithful husbandmen. We may therefore suppose, that, in quoting from this Psalm, the people designed to express their belief that Jesus was Messiah. We may further suppose, that, in declaring that Jerusalem should not see him again, till ready to apply to him the words he adduced, our Lord had respect to some future acknow- ledgment of his kingly pretensions. We wish you to bear carefully with you these preliminary observations, as necessary to the settling the right in- terpretation of our text. Whatever may be your opinion of the import of the passage, as delivered by St. Luke, you can hardly fail to allow, that, as delivered by St. Matthew, it can have respect to no events recorded in the Gospels. The words were uttered by Christ, when concluding his public min- istry : he left the temple so soon as he had pronounced them, and never again entered its precincts. We are, there- fore, to take the text as Christ's partr ing address to his unbelieving country- men ; so that, in whatever degree they are prophetic, in that same degree must they belong to occurrences which were to follow his departure from earth. Now it will be admitted by you all, that there is something singularly pa- thetic in the text, when thus regarded as the last words of Christ to the Jews. The Savior is taking his farewell of those whom he had striven, by every means, to lead to repentance. He had wrought the most wonderful miracles, and appealed to them in proof that he came forth from God. He had deliver- ed the most persuasive discourses, set- ting forth, under variety of imagery, the ruin that would follow his being re- jected, and ofl^ering the largest bless- ings to all who would come to him as a deliverer. But all had been in vain : and he knew that the time was at hand, when the measure of guilt would be filled up, and their Messiah be cruci- fied by the Jews. Yet he would not de- part without another and a bolder re- monstrance. The chapter, of which our text is the conclusion, and which, as we have already stated, is the part- ing sermon of Christ, is without paral- lel in the Gospels for indignant re- buke and emphatic denunciation. The preacher seems, for a while, to have laid aside his meekness, and to have 212 THE DISPERSION AND RESTORATION OF THE JEWS. assumed the character of a stern he- rald of wrath. And I know not that there is any where to be found such a specimen of lofty and withering elo- quence. You cannot read it without emotions of awe, and almost of fear. Confronted by those who, he knew, thirsted for his blood, Christ intrepidly charged them with their crimes, and predicted their punishment. Had he been invested with all human authority, in place of standing as a defenceless and despised individual, he could not have uttered a sterner and more heart- searching invective. The marvel is, that his enemies should have allowed him to pour forth his tremendous ora- tory, that they did not fall upon him, without regard to the sacred ness of the place, and take a fierce and sum- mary revenge. " Wo unto you, scribes ami pharisees, hypocrites!" is the bur- den of his address: he reiterates the wo, till the temple walls must hnve rung with the ominous syllables. And then he bids the nation fill up the mea- sure of their fathers. Their fathers had slain the prophets, and made great ad- vances towards that ripeness of iniqui- ty which was to mark the land out as ready for vengeance. But the national guilt was not yet complete. There Avas a crime by which the children were to outdo, and, at the same time, consum- mate the sinfulness of their fathers. And Christ calls them to the perpetra- tion of tliis crime. They were bent on accomplishing his death — let them nail him to the cross, and then would their guiltiness reach its height, and the ac- cumulated vengeance descend with a wild and overwhelming might. " That upon you may come all the righteous blood shed upon the earth, from the blood of righteous Abel unto the blood of Zacharias, son of Barachias, whom ye slew between the temple and the altar. Verily I say unto you, all these things shall come upon 4;his generation." And here tiie Savior might be said to have exhausted threatening; for what denunciation could be more tremen- dous, or more comprehensive 1 We may picture him to ourselves, launch- ing this terrible sentence, a more than human fire in his eye, and a voice more deep-toned and thrilling than ever is- sued from mortal lips. I know of no- thing that would be more sublime and commanding in representation, if there could be transferred to the canvass the vivid delineations of thought, than the scene thus enacted in the temple. We figure the Redeemer undaunted by the menacing looks and half-suppressed murmurs of the fierce throng by which he was surrounded. He becomes more and more impassioned in his eloquence, rising from one bold rebuke to another, and throwing into his language a great- er and greater measure of reproachful- ness and defiance. And when he has compelled his hearers to shrink before the rush of his invective, he assumes the prophetic office, and, as though armed with all the thunders of divine wrath, announces authoritatively the approach of unparalleled desolation, 'liiis is the moment we would seize for delineation — though what pencil cau think to portray the lofty bearing, the pre-eminent dignity, the awful glance, the terribleness, yet magnificence, of gesture, vvhich must have characterized the Mediator, when, wrought up into all the ardency of superhuman zeal, he brake into the overwhelming male- ^ diction, "Verily I say nnto you, all j these things shall come upon this ge« neration 1" But if the scene of this moment de- fy the painter's art, what shall we say of that of the succeeding! No sooner had Christ reached that height of in- trepid vehemence at which we have just beheld him, than he gave way to a burst of tenderness, and changed the language of invective for that of la- mentation. x\t one moment he is deal- ing out the arrows of a stern and la- cerating oratory, and the next, he is melted into tears, and can find no words but those of anguish and regret. Indeed it is a transition more exqui- sitely beautiful than can be found in the most admired specimens of human eloquence ; and we feel that there must have passed a change over the counte- nance, and the whole bearing of the Sa- vior, which imagination cannot catch, and which, if it could, the painter could not fix. There must have risen before him the imagery of a wrath and a wretchedness, such as had never yet overtaken any nation of the earth. And the people that should be thus signal- led out were his countrymen, his kins- men after the flesh, over whom his THE DISPERSION AND RESTORATION OF THE JEWS. 213 heart yearned, and whom he had affec- tionately labored to convince of dan- ger, and conduct to safety. He felt therefore, we may believe, a sudden and excruciating sorrow, so that the judgments which he foretold pressed on his own spirit, and caused him great agony. He was too pure a being, and he loved with too abiding and disinterest- ed a love, to harbor any feeling allied with revenge ; and, therefore, though it was for rejecting himself that those whom he addressed were about to be punished, he could not contemplate the punishment but with bitterness and anguish. And hence the rapid and thrilling change from the preacher of wrath to the mourner over suffering. Hence the sudden laying aside of all his awful ve- hemence, and the breaking into pathet- ic and heart-touching expressions. Oh, you feel that the Redeemer must have been subdued, as it were, and master- ed, by the view of the misery which he saw coming on Judea, and by the re- membrance of all he had done to avert it from the land, ere he could have passed thus instantaneously from indig- nant rebuke to exquisite tenderness. And it cannot, we think, be without mingled emotions of awe and delight, that you mark the transition from the herald of vengeance to the sympa- thizer with the wretched. Just as you are shrinking from the fierce and wi- thering denunciations, almost scathed by the fiery eloquence which glares and flashes with the anger of the Lord — just as you are expecting a new burst of threatening, a further and wilder malediction from the voice which seems to shake the magnificent temple — there is heard the sound as of one who is struggling with sorrow; and in a tone of rich plaintiveness, in accents musical in their sadness, and betraying the agony of a stricken spir- it, there fall upon you these touching and penetrating words, " O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, how often would I have ga- thered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not." But there is so much of important matter in this and the following verses, that it) is time that we confine our- selves to considering the statements here made by Christ. We may arrange these statements under three divisions. Under the first, we shall have to con- sider what had been done for Jerusa- lem ; under the second, the consequen- ces to the Jews of their rejecting the Christ ; and, under the third, the future conversion of this unbelieving people. Now you must be quite prepared for our regarding the Jews as a typical nation, so that, in God's dealings with them, we may read, as in a glass, his dealings with his church, whether col- lectively or individually. You must be aware that the history^ of the Israelites is full of symbolic occurrence ; and that, without drawing any forced pa- rallel, the narrative may be transfer-^ red in various of its parts, to our own i day and generation, and be used as de- I scriplive of what occurs among chris-^ j lians. You will not, therefore, be sur- ! prised, if we consider Christ's remon- strance with Jerusalem as every way applicable to the impenitent of later times, and as affirming nothing in re- gard of the Jews which may not be affirmed, with equal truth, of many amongst ourselves. There had been much done for Jerusalem ; and it is in exquisitely moving terms that Christ states his own willingness to have shel- tered that citjr. But herein, we are as- sured, Jerusalem was but the represent- ative of individual transgressors, so that the very same words might be addressed to any amongst us who have obstinately withstood the motions of God's Spirit and the invitations of his Gospel. We cannot indeed be said to have killed the prophets, and stoned them that were sent unto us. But if we have re- sisted the engines, whatever thej?^ may have been, through which God has car- ried on the moral attack ; if we have turned a deaf ear to the prophet and the messenger, and thus done our part to- wards frustrating their mission; then we are virtually in the same position I as Jerusalem, and may regard our- I selves as addressed in the language of i our text. I And when the verse is thus with- ' drawn from its merely national appli- cation, and we consider it as capable of being exemplified in the history of our own lives, it presents such an ac- count of God's dealings with the im- penitent, as yields to none in import- ance and interest. We observe first, 214 THE DISPERSION AND RESTORATION OF THE JEWS. that however unable we may be to re- concile the certainty of a foreknown destruction with the possibility of avoiding it, we are bound to believe, on the testimony of our text, that no man's doom is so fixed that it may not be averted by repentance. It may ap- pear to us, that, all along, the destruc- tion of Jerusalem had been a settled thing in the purposes of the Almighty ; and that God's plans were so arranged on the supposition of the final infidelity of the Jews, that they could not have allowed a final belief in the Christ. Yet Christ declares of Jerusalem, that he would often have gathered her children together, as a hen gathereth her chick- ens under her wings; and that only their own wilful infidelity had prevent- ed his sheltering them from every out- break of wrath. We cannot, therefore, doubt that it was quite within the power of the Jews to have repented ; and that, had they hearkened to the voice of the Savior, they would have escaped all that punishment which appears so pre- determined, that, to suppose it remit- ted, is to suppose God's plans thwart- ed. We finally admit that the Savior must have known that those whom he called would not obey. But there is all the difference between saying that they could not obey, and that they would not obey. In saying that they could not obey, we make them the subjects of some hidden decree, which placed an impassable barrier between them- selves and repentance, and which there- fore rendered nugatory, yea, reduced into mere mockery, the warnings and invitations with which they were plied. But in saying that they would not obey, we charge the whole blame on the per- verseness of the human will, and sup- pose a clear space left, notwithstand- ing the foreknown infidelity, for those remonstrances and persuasions which are wholly out of place where there is no power of hearkening to the call. And what we thus hold in regard of Jerusalem, must be equally held in re- gard of every individual amongst our- selves. We cannot doubt that there is not one in this assembly whose eternal condition is not as well known to the Almighty as though it were fixed by an absolute decree. But then it should be carefully observed, that this fore- knowledge of God puts no restraint upon man, obliges him not to one course rather than to another, but leaves him as free to choose between life and death, as though the choice must be made before it could be conjectured. The clouds of vengeance were just ready to burst upon Jerusalem ; but the only reason why her children were not sheltered, was that " they would not." Thus with ourselves — God may be as certain of our going down finally into the pit, as though we had already been thrown to destruction; but the single reason, given at the last, why we have not escaped, will be our own rejection of a proffered deliverance. There is no mystery in this, nothing inscrutable. There is no room for pleading that a divine decree was; against us, and that, therefore, salvation, if nominally offer- ed, was virtually out of reach. It was not out of the reach of Jerusalem, though her grasping it would have ap- parently deranged the whole scheme of redemption. And it is not out of the reach of any one of us, however the final impenitence of this or that indivi- dual may be fully ascertained by the foreknowledge of God. It is nothing to say that it is impossible for me to do what God knows I shall not do. It is not God's foreknowledge, it is only my own wilfulness, which makes the impossibility. I am not hampered, I am not shackled by God's foreknowledge : I am every jot as free as though there were no foreknowledge. And thus, without searching into secret things which belong only to God, and yet maintaining in all their integrity the divine attributes, we can apply to every one who goes on in impenitence, the touching remonstrance of Christ in our text. If such a man reach that mo- ment, which had been reached by Je- rusalem, the moment Avhen the day of grace terminates, and the overtures of mercy are brought to a close, the Sa- vior may say to him, " How often would I have gathered thee under my wings, and thou wouldest not!" How often ! Who is there amongst us unto whom have not been vouchsa- fed repeated opportunities of knowing the things which belong unto peace'? Who, that has not been frequently mov- ed, by the expostulations of conscience and the suggestions of God's Spirit, to flee the wrath to come X Who, upon THE DISPERSION AND RESTORATION OF THE JEWS. 215 whom the means of grace have not been accumulated, so that, time after time, he has been threatened, and warn- ed, and reasoned with, and besought '? How often ! I would have gathered thee in thy prosperity, when thou wast spoken to in mercies, and bidden to remember the hand whence they came. I would have gathered thee in thine adversity, when sorrow had softened thine heart, and thou didst look on the right hand, and on the left, for a com- forter. How often ! By every sermon which thou hast heard, by every death in thy neighborhood, by every misgiv- ing of soul, by every joy that cheered thee, and by every grief that saddened thee, I have spoken, but thou wouldest not hear, I have called, but thou would- est not answer. We may be thoroughly assured that there is not one of us who shall be able to plead at the last, that he was not sufficiently invited. There is not one of us, who shall be able to charge his perdition on any thing but his own choice. " How often," " how often," will ring in the ear of every man who remains unconverted beneath the ministry of the Gospel ; the re- membrance of abused mercies, and slighted means, and neglected oppor- tunities, being as the knell of his un- alterable doom. And, oh, as the wicked behold the righteous sheltered beneath the Mediator's protection, from all the fury which gathers and hurries over a polluted creation, we can believe, that, of all racking thoughts, the most fear- ful will be, that they too might have been covered by the same mighty wing, and that, had they not chosen exposure to the iron sleet of God's wrath, they too might have rested in peace, whilst the strange work of destruction went forward. Therefore will their own con- sciences either pass or ratify their sentence. They will shrink down to their fire and their shame, not more compelled by a ministry of vengeance, than torn by a consciousness that they, like the children of Jerusalem, might have often taken shelter under the sure- tyship of a Redeemer, and that they, like the children of Jerusalem, are naked and defenceless, only because they would not be covered with his feathers. But we go on to the second topic which is presented to us by the words under review, the consequences to the Jews of their rejecting the Christ. These consequences are, the desola- tion of their national condition, "Be- hold, your house is left unto you deso- late," and the judicial blindness Avhich would settle upon them, so that, until a certain period had elapsed, they should not see, and acknowledge, the Savior. This latter consequence is stated in the concluding verse of the text, " ye shall not see me henceforth, till ye shall say. Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord," — that is, I shall withdraw myself altogether from you, till a time arrive at Avhich you shall be prepared to welcome me as Messiah, Thus we have a double prophecy of what should befall the Jews, a prophe- cy of their misery, and a prophecy of their infidelity. And along with this prophecy there is an evident intimation of what has been the chief character- istic of the Jews, their complete sepa- ration, through all their dispersions, from every other people. We derive this intimation from the terms in which their misery is foretold, " Behold, your house is left unto you desolate." It seems as though it had been said that they were still to have a house, but that house would be desolate ; Judea would be theirs, but themselves exiles from its provinces. And if the house were to remain appropriated to the Jews, the Jews must remain distin- guished from other people ; so that what predicts their punishment, pre- dicts also, though in more obscure terms, their being kept apart from the rest of humankind, that they may at length be reinstated in the possession of their fathers. But we confine ourselves at present to the prediction of their state, as af- fected by their rejection of Christ. They were to be desolate, but distinct from other people ; and an obstinate unbelief was to characterize them through the whole period of " the times of the Gentiles." And we need hardly tell you of the accuracy with which such prophecy has been all along ful- filled. The predictions which bear re- ference to the Jews, have this advan- tage over all other, that their accom- plishment may be said to force itself on the notice of the least observant, and not to require, in order to its de- 216 THE DISPEKSION AND RESTORATION OF THE JEWS. monstration, the labor of a learned re- search. Of all surprising phenomena, there is perhaps none as wonderful as that of the Jews' preserving, through long centuries, their distinguishing fea- tures. It would have been comparative- ly nothing, had the Jews remained in Judea, that they should have continued marked off from every other people. But that they should have been dis- persed into all nations, and yet have amalgamated with none ; that they should be every were found, and yet be every where the same ; that they should submit themselves to all forms of government, and adopt all varieties of customs, and yet be unable, after any lapse of time, to extirpate their national marks; we may pronounce this unparalleled in the history of man- kind, and inexplicable but as the fulfil- ment of prophecy. If the Jews, though removed from their own land, had been confined to one other, we might have found causes of a protracted distinc- tion, in national antipathies or legisla- tive enactments. But when the disper- sion has been so universal, that, where- soever man treads, the Jew has made his dwelling, and yet the distinction is so abiding that you may always recog- nize the Jew for yourself, there is no place left for the explanations which might be given, were the marvel lim- ited to a district or age ; and we have before us a miracle, whick would not be exceeded, nay, not by the thousandth part equalled, were we privileged to behold the mightiest suspension of the known laws of nature. Neither is it only in the preservation of their distinguishing characteristics that the Jews are wonderful, and give evidence that Christ prophesied through a more than human foresight. The con- tinued infidelity of the Jews is every jot as surprising as their continued separation. We are quite at a loss, on any natural principles, to account for their infidelity. It is easy to explain the little way which the Gospel makes amongst the heathen, but not the far less which it makes amongst the Jews. I may well expect to be met by a most vigorous opposition on the part of the heathen ; for I go to them with a reli- gious system which demands the un- qualified rejection of their own ; we have scarcely an inch of ground in common; and if I would prevail on them to receive as true what I bring, I must prevail on them to renounce as false what they believe. But the case seems widely difl^erent when myattack is on the Jew. We have a vast deal of common ground. We believe in the same God ; we receive the same Scrip- tures ; we look for the same Messiah. There is but one point of debate be- tween us; and that is, whether Jesus of Nazareth were the Christ. And thus the field of argument is surprisingly narrowed ; in place of having to fight our way painfully from one principle to another, and of settling all the points of natural religion, as preliminary to the introduction of the mysteries of revealed, we can go at once to the sin- gle truth at issue between us, and dis- cuss, from writings which we equally receive as inspired, the claims of Je- sus to the being Messiah. Surely it might have been expected, that the in- fidelity of the Jew would have been far more easily overcome than that of the heathen ; and that, in settling ourselves to win converts to Christianity, ithere would have been a better prospect of gaining credence for the New Testa- ment where the Old was acknowledg- ed, than of making way for the whole Bible, where there was nothing but idolatry. You are to add to this, that, whate- ver the likelihood that the Jew would reject Christianity on its first publica- tion, it was a likelihood which dimi- nished with every year that rolled away; inasmuch as every year which brought no other Messiah, swelled the demonstration that Jesuswas theChrist. It is not to be explained, on any of the principles to which we ordinarily recur in accounting for infidelity, why the Jews persisted in rejecting Jesus, when the time had long passed which them- selves fixed for Messiah's appearing. Their prophecies had clearly determin- ed that Christ would come whilst the second temple was standing, and at the close of seventy weeks from the ter- mination of the Babylonish captivity. But when the second temple had been long even with the ground, and the se- venty weeks, on every possible compu- tation, had long ago terminated, the Jews, we might have thought, would have been compelled to admit, either DISPERSION AND RESTORATION OF THE JEWS. 217 that Messiah had come, or that their expectation was vain, and that no de- liverer would appear. There seemed no alternative, if they rejected Jesus of Nazareth, but the rejecting their own Scriptures. So that we can have no hesitation in affirming, that the con- tinued infidelity, like the continued se- paration, of the Jews is wholly inex- plicable, unless referred to the appoint- ment and judgment of God. We can no more account, on any common prin- ciples, for their persisting in expecting a Redeemer, when the predictions on which they rest manifestly pertain to a long-departed age, than for their re- taining all their national peculiarities, when they have been for centuries "without a king, and without a prince, and without a sacrifice." In both ca- ses they accomplish, and that too most signally, the prophecies of Christ — their house being left unto them deso- late, and a judicial blindness having ! settled on their understanding. And never, therefore, should we i meet a Jew, without feeling that we i meet the strongest witness for the truth i of our religion. I know not how those, j who are proof against all other testi- i mony, can withstand that furnished by 1 the condition of the Jews. They may ! have their doubts as to the performance I of the miracles recorded in the writ- 1 ings of evangelists ; but here is a mi- 1 racle, wrought before their eyes, and which ceases not to be miracle because long continued. We call it miracle, be- cause altogether contrary to what we had reason to expect, and not to be ex- plained on mere natural principles. That the Jews have not ceased to be 1 Jews; that, though scattered over the world, domesticated in every land, at one time hunted by persecution and ground down by oppression, at another, i allowed every privilege and placed on , a footing with the natives of the soil, • there has been a proved impossibility of wearing away their distinguishing characteristics, and confounding them i with any other tribe — is not this mar- vellous 1 That, moreover, throughout their long exile from their own land, they have held fast the Scriptures which prove their hopes vain, and ap- pealed to prophets, who, if any thing better than deceivers, accuse them of the worst crime, and convict them of the worst madness — we afHrm of this, that it is a prodigy without equal in all the registered wonders which have been known on our earth : and I want nothing more to assure me that Christ came from God, and that he had a su- perhuman power of inspecting distant times, than the evidence vouchsafed, when I turn from surveying the once chosen people, and hear the Redeemer declaring in his last discourse in the temple, that their house should be left unto them desolate, and that a moral darkness should long cloud their un- derstanding. But we have now, in the third and last place, to consider what our text affirms of the future conversion of this unbelieving people. We have already insisted on the fact, that, in delivering the words under review, Christ was concluding his public ministrations, and that they could not, therefore, have been accomplished in events which oc- curred whilst he was yet upon earth. Yet they manifestly contain a predic- tion, that, at some time or another, the Jews would be willing to hail him as Messiah. In saying, " ye shall not see me henceforth till ye shall say, blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord," Christ undoubtedly implied that the Jews should again see him, but not till prepared to give him their alle- giance. We referred you to the psalm in which this exclamation occurs, that you might be certified as to its amount- ing to an acknowledgment of the Mes- siah. So that, on every account, we seem warranted in assuming, that, whilst announcing the misery which the Jews were fast bringing on themselves, and the protracted infidelity to which they would be consigned, Christ also an- nounced that a time would come, when the veil would be taken from their hearts, and they would delightedly re- ceive the very being they were then about to crucify. Such is the great event for which we yet look, and with which stands asso- ciated all that is most glorious in the dominion of Christianity. We know not with what eyes those men can read prophecy, who discover not in its an- nouncements the final restoration and conversion of the Jews. It is useless to attempt to resolve into figurative lan- guage, or to explain by a purely spiri- 28 218 DISPERSION AND RESTORATION OF THE JEWS. tual interpretation, predictions v.'hich seem to assert the reinstatement of the exiles in the land of their fathers, and their becoming the chief preachers of the religion which they have so long labor- ed to bring into contempt. These pre- dictions are inseparably bound up with others, which refer to their dispersion and unbelief; so that, if you spiritual- ize any one, you must spiritualize the whole. And since every word has had a literal accomplishment, so far as the dispersion and unbelief are concerned, how can we doubt that every Avord will have also a literal accomplishment, so far as the restoration and conversion are concerned 1 If the event had prov- ed the predicted dispersion to be figu- rative, the event, in all probability, would prove also the predicted resto- ration to be figurative. But, so long as we find the two foretold in the same sentence, with no intimation that we are not to apply to both the same rule of interpretation, wc seem bound to expect, either in both cases a literal fulfilment, or in both a spiritual ; and since in the one instance the fulfilment has been undoubtedly literal, have we not every reason for concluding that it will be literal in the other 1 We believe, then, of the nation of Israel, that it has not been cast off for ever, that not for ever shall Jerusalem sit desolate, mourning her banished ones, and trodden dov/n by the Gen- tiles. We believe, according to the de- claration of Isaiah, that there shall come a day when " the great trumpet shall be blown, and they shall come which •were ready to perish in the land of Assyria, and the outcasts in the land of Egypt, and shall worship the Lord in the holy mount at Jerusalem." We believe, according to the magnificent imagery of the same evangelical pro- phet, that a voice will yqtsay to the prostrate nation and city, "Arise, shine, for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee." '' The sons of strangers shall build up thy walls, and their kings shall minister unto thee ; for in my wrath I smote thee ; but in my favor have I had mercy on thee." We know not by what migh- ty impulse, nor at what mysterious sig- nal, the scattered tribes shall arise from the mountains, and valleys, and islands of the earth, and hasten towards the land which God promised to Abraham and his seed. We cannot divine what instrumentality will be brought to bear on mankind, when God shall " say to the north, give up, and to the south, keep not back ; bring my sons from far, and my daughters from the ends of the earth." But we are sure, that, what- ever the means employed to gather home the wanderers, they shall flow into Judea from every district of the globe ; they shall fly as " the doves to their windows ;" and the waste and de- solate places become " too narrow by reason of the inhabitants." And when God's hand shall have been lifted up to the Gentiles, compel- ling them to bring his sons in their arms, and his daughters on their shoul- ders 5 when marching thousands shall have crossed the confines of Palestine, and pitched their tents in plains which the Jordan waters; then will there be a manifestation of the Christ, and then a conversion of the unbelieving. We have but few, and those obscure, notices of this august consummation. We may perhaps gather, from the predictions of Ezekiel and Daniel, that, when the Jews shall have resettled themselves in Judea, they will be attacked by an an- tichristian confederacy ; that certain potentates will combine, lead their ar- mies to the holy land, and seek to4)lun- der and exterminate the reinstated peo- ple. And the struggle will be vehement ; for it is declared in the last chapter of the Prophecies of Zechariah, " I will gather all nations against Jerusalem to battle, and the city shall be taken, and the houses rifled, and half of the city shall go forth into captivity." But at this crisis, when the anti-christian pow- ers seem on the point of triumphing over the Jews, the Lord, we are told, shall visibly interpose, and turn the tide of battle. '' And his feet shall stand in that day upon the mount of Olives." It was from the mount of Olives that Jesus ascended, when he had glorious- ly completed our redemption. And whilst the apostles " lookedsteadfastly towards heaven, as he went up," there stood by them two men in white ap- parel, wiiich told them that " this same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven.' There was here a clear prophecy that DISPERSION AND RESTOKATION OF THK JEWS. 219 Christ should return personally to the earth, and that, too, in like manner as he departed. And it may be one point of similarity between the departure and the return, that, as he went up from the mount of Olives, so, as Zechariah pre- dicts, it shall be on the mount of Olives he descends. Then shall he be seen and known by the Jevv^sh people. Then shall the hearts of this people, which had been previously moved, it may be, to the seeking the God of their fathers, though not to the acknowledging the crucified Messiah, sink witliin them at the view of the being whom their an- cestors pierced, and whom themselves had blasphemed. They shall recognize in him their long-expected Christ, and throwing away every remnant of infi- delity, and full of remorse and godly contrition, shall fall down before him, and supplicate forgiveness, and tender their allegiance. This we believe to be the time re- ferred to by Christ in the prophecy of our text. Then will the nation be pre- pared to exclaim, '' Blessed is he that Cometh in the name of the Lord." Then will the period, which God, in his righteous vengeance, hath appoint- ed for the desolation of their house, be brought to its close ; " the times of the Gentiles " will be completed, and the jubilee year of this creation will com- mence. Until the Jews, with one heart and one voice, shall utter the welcome of our text, we are taught to expect no general diflusion of Christianity, no- thing which shall approach to that complete mantling of the globe with righteousness and peace, which pro- phets have described in their most fer- vid strains. But the uttering this wel- come by the reinstated Israelites, shall be as the blast of the silver trumpets which ushered in the Jubilee of old. The sound shall be heard on every shore. The east and the west, the north and the south, shall echo back the peal, and all nations, and tribes, and tongues shall join in proclaiming blessed "the King of kings and Lord of lords." Jerusalem, " her walls sal- vation and her gates praise," shall be erected into the metropolis of the re- generated earth ; and she shall send forth, in every direction, the preachers of the " one Mediator between God and man ;" and rapidly shall all error, and all false doctrine, and all superstition, and all opposition, give way before these mighty missionaries ; till, at length, the sun, in his circuit round this globe, shall shine upon no habita- tions but those of disciples of Christ, and behold no spectacle but that of a rejoicing multitude, walking in the love of the Lord our Redeemer. Such, we believe, is the prophetic delineation of what shall occur at the second advent of Christ. And if there were great cause why Jesus should weep over Jerusalem, as he thought on the infidelity of her children, and marked the long train of calamities which pressed rapidly onwards, there is abundant reason why we, upon whom are fallen the ends of the world, should look with hope to the hill of Zion, and expect, in gladness of spirit, the speedy dawning of bright days on the deserted and desecrated Judea. If we have at heart the advance of Christianity, we shall be much in prayer for the con- version of the Jews. ''Ye that make mention of the Lord," saith the prophet Isaiah, " keep not silence, and give him no rest, till he establish, and till he make Jerusalem a praise in the earth." I have more than sympathy with the Jews as a people chastened for the sin of their ancestors: 1 have an indistinct feeling of reverence and awe, as know- ing them reserved for the most glori- ous allotments. It is not their sordid- ness, their degradation, nor their impi- ety — and much less is it their suflering — which can make me forget either the vast debt we owe them, or the splendid station which they have yet to assume. That my Redeemer was a Jew, that his apostles were Jews, that Jews preserved for us the sacred oracles, that Jews first published the tidings of salvation, that the dimin- ishing of the Jews was the riches of the Gentiles— I were wanting in common gratitude, if, in spite of all this, I were conscious of no yearnings of heart towards the exiles and wan- derers. But, asks St. Paul, " if the casting away of them be the reconcil- ing of the world, what shall the receiv- ing of them be but life from the deadl" And if indeed the universal reign of Christ cannot be introduced, until the Jews are brought, like Paul their great type, to preach the faith which now 220 DISPERSION AND RESTORATION OF THE JEWS. they despise, where can be our sinceri- ty in putting up continually the pray- er, " thy kingdom come," if we have no longing for the home-gathering of the scattered tribes, no earnestness in supplication that the veil may be taken from the heart of the Israelite ^ In proportion as we " grow in grace and in the knowledge of Christ," we shall grow in the desire that the Re- deemer's sovereignty may be more widely and visibly extended. And as this desire increases, our thoughts will turn to Jerusalem, to the scenes which witnessed Christ's humiliation, and which have also to witness his tri- umphs. Dear to us will be every moun- tain and every valley; but not more dear because once hallowed by the footsteps of the Man of sorrows, than because yet to be irradiated by the magnificent presence of the King of kings. Dear will be Lebanon with its cedars, and Jordan with its wa- ters ; but not more dear, because as- sociated with departed glories, than because the trees have to rejoice, and "the floods to clap their hands," before the Lord, as he cometh down in pomp to his kingdom. Dear will be the city, as we gaze upon it in its scathed and wasted estate ; but not more dear, because Jesus sojourned there, and suffered there, and wept there bitter tears, than because Jeru- salem hath yet to be "a crown of glory in the hand of the Lord, and a royal diadem in the hand of her God." We bid you, therefore, examine well, whether you assign the Jew his scrip- tural place in the economy of redemp- tion, and whether you give him his due share in your intercessions with your Maker. You owe him much; yea, vastly more than you can ever com- pute. The branches were broken off; and we, being wild olive trees, were grafted in amongst them. But the na- tural branches shall be again grafted into their own olive tree. And when they are thus grafted, then— and who will not long, who will not pray for such result] — the seed which was less, when sown, than all the seeds in the earth, shall grow suddenly into a plant of unrivalled stature and efflorescence ; the whole globe shall be canopied by the far- spreading boughs, and the fowls of the air shall lodge under its shadow. I have only to add, that, as you leave the church, you will be asked to prove that you do indeed care for the Jews, by subscribing liberally towards a Society which devotes all its ener- gies to the attempting their conver- sion. I have indeed spoken in vain, if the attempt shall prove that you refuse this Society your aid, or give it only in scant measure. And it is not I who appeal to you. The memory of a great and good man* appeals to you. The Society for the Conversion of the Jews was the favorite Society of that admi- rable and lamented person, who, for so many years, labored in the ministry in this town, and who can hardly be for- gotten here for generations to come. In preaching for this Society, I redeem a promise which I made to him when my duties brought me last year to this place. I obey his wish, I comply with his request. And it cannot be that you will fail to embrace gladly an opportu- nity of showing your respect for so eminent a servant of God, one who spent and was spent, that he might guide you to heaven. You might erect to him a costly monument; you might grave his virtues on the brass, and cause the marble to assume a living shape, and bend mournfully over his ashes. But be ye well assured, that, if his glorified spirit be yet conscious of what passes on this earth, it would be no pleasure to him to see that you gathered into solemn processions to honor his obsequies, and reared, in to- ken of your love, the stately cenotaph, compared with what he would derive from beholding jrour zeal, in gathering into the christian fold "the lost sheep of the house of Israel." The Rev. Charles Simeon. i N SERMONS PREACHED BEFORE THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE ; February, 1837. The publication of the following Sermons was strongly requested by many of those who had heard them delivered. The Author was thus placed under the same circumstances as a year ago, when he had discharged the duties of Select Preacher before the University. He felt that it would not become him to act differently on the two occasions; and he can now only eipress his earnest hope that discourses, which were listened to with singular kindness and attention, may be perused with some measure of advantage. CjiMBERWELi., March 4, 1837, SERMON I. THE UNNATURALNESS OF DISOBEDIENCE TO THE GOSPEL. 'O foolish Galatians, who hath bewitched you, that ye should not obey the truth; before whose eyes Jesus Christ hath been evidently set forth, crucified among youl" — Galatians, 3 : 1. It is to be observed that the Gala- tians, here addressed, were not Jews; neither had they been dwellers in Je- rusalem, when Christ died upon the cross. It was not therefore true of them, any more than of ourselves, that, with the bodily eye, they had beheld Jesus crucified. If the Savior had been evidently set forth before the Galatians, sacrificed for sin, it could only have been in the same manner as he is set before us, through the preaching of the word, and the administration of the Sacraments. There was no engine brought to bear on the Galatians, ex- cept that of the miracles which the first teachers wrought, which is not also brought to bear upon us ; and the miracles were of no avail, except to the making good points on which we profess ourselves already convmced. If therefore the very Gospel which St. Paul preached be preached in our hear- ing, and the very Sacraments which he administered be administered in our assemblies, it may be said of us, with as much propriety as of the Galatians, that "Jesus Christ hath been evidently set forth, crucified among us." The greater distance at which we stand from the introduction of Chris- tianity does not necessarily occasion any greater indistinctness in the exhi- bition of the Savior. It was not the proximity of the Galatians to the time of the crucifixion which caused Christ to appear as though crucified among them ; for once let a truth become an object of faith, not of sight, and it must make way by the same process at dif- ferent times — there may be diversity in the evidence by which it is sustain- ed, there is none in the manner in which it is apprehended. We may therefore bring down our text to present days, and regard it as applicable, in every part, to ourselves. There are two chief topics which will demand to be handled. You observe that the apostle speaks of it as so sin- 222 THE UNNATURALNESS OF DISOBEDIENCE TO THE GOSPEL. gular, that men should disobey the truth, that he can only ascribe it to sorcery or fascination. You observe also that he grounds this opinion on the fact, that Christianity had been so propounded to these men, that Christ himself might be said to have been cru- cified among them. We shall invert the order of the text, believing that it may be thus most practically considered. In the first place, it will be our endeavor to show you, that there is nothing exag- gerated in our declaring of yourselves, that "before your eyes Christ Jesus hath been evidently set forth, crucified among you." In the second place, we shall make this fact a basis on which to ground a question to those who are yet neglectful of the soul, " Who hath bewitched you that ye should not obey the truth V Now we are bold to claim at once a high character for the ministrations of the Gospel, and shall not attempt to construct a labored proof of their pow- er. We do not substantiate our claim by any reference to the wisdom or energy of the men by whom these mi- nistrations may be conducted; for Paul may plant, and Apollos water, but God alone can give the increase. It is alto- gether as a divinely instituted ordi- nance that we uphold the might of preaching, and contend that it may have such power of annihilating time, and reducing the past to present being, as to set Christ evidently before your eyes, crucified among you. We are as- sured, in regard of the public ministra- tions of the word, that they are the in- stituted method by which the events of one age are to be kept fresh through every other. And, on this account, Ave can have no hesitation in using lan- guage with regard to these our weekly assemblings, which would be wholly unwarranted, if we ascribed the worth of preachino', in any degree, to the preacher. When the services of God's house are considered as an instrumen- tality through which God's Spirit ope- rates, we may safely attribute to those services extraordinary energy. We say therefore of preaching, that it must be separated as far as possible from the preacher ; for it is only when thus separated, that we can apply to it St. Paul's assertion in our text. I might now bring before you a summary of the ; history of Christ. I might evoke from the past the miracles of Jesus, and bid you look on, as the sick are healed, and the dead raised. I might lead you from scene to scene of his last great strug- gle with the powers of darkness, and summon you to behold him in the gar- den, and at the judgment-seat, on the cross and in the grave. And then, as though we were actually standing, as stood the Israelites, when the fiery ser- pents were abroad, round the cross which sustained that to which we must look for deliverance, might I entreat you, by the hopes and fears which cen- tre in eternity, to gaze on the Lamb of God as the alone propitiation for sin. This I might do ; and this has been of- ten done from this place. And shall we hesitate to affirm, that, whensoever this is done, Jesus Christ is " set forth, cru- cified among youl" It is not that we can pretend to throw surpassing vivid- ness into our representations. It is not that we can claim such power of deli- neation as shall renovate the past, and cause it to re-appear as a present oc- currence. It is not, that, by any figure of speech, or any hold on your imagi- nations, we can summon back what has long ago departed, and Hx it in the midst of you visibly and palpably. It is only, that as intercession has been ap- pointed to perpetuate the crucifixion of Christ — so that, as our Advocate with the Father, he has continually that sacrifice to present, which he ofler- ed once for all upon Calvary — so has preaching been appointed to preserve the memory of that death which achiev- ed our redemption, and keep the migh- ty deed from growing old. The virtue therefore which we as- cribe to our public discourses, is de- rived exclusively from their constitu- ting an ordained instrumentality ; and our confidence that the virtue will not be found wanting, flows only from a conviction that an instrumentality, once ordained, will be duly honored, by God. We believe assuredly that there is at work, in this very place, and at this very moment, an agency independent of all human, but which is accustomed to make itself felt through finite and weak instruments. As the words flow from the lips of him Avho addresses you, flow apparently in the unaided strength of mere earthly speech, they may be THE UNNATURALNESS OF DISOBEDIENCE TO THE GOSPEL. 223 endowed by this agency with an ener- gy which is wholly from above, and thus prevail to the setting Christianity before you, with as clear evidence as was~granted to those who saw Jesus in the flesh. So that, if there were no- thing entrusted to us but the preaching of the word, if we had no sacraments to administer, we should feel, that, without presumption, we might declare of our hearers what St. Paul declared of the christians at Galatia. Yea, so deep is our persuasion of our living under the dispensation of the Spirit, and of preaching being the chief en- gine which this Spirit employs in trans- mitting a knowledge of redemption, that, after every endeavor, however fee- ble and inadequate to bring under men's view " the mystery of godliness," v/e feel that practically as much is done for them as though they had been spec- tators of Christ's expiatory sufferings; and therefore could we boldly wind up every such endeavor, by addressing our auditors as individuals, " before whose eyes Jesus Christ hath been evidently set forth, crucified among them." But you are to add to this, that not only is there the preaching of the Gos- pel in our churches ; there is also the administration of sacraments. We will confine ourselves to the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, as furnishing the more forcible illustration. It is said by St. Paul, in reference to this sacrament, " As often as ye eat this bread, and drink this <;up, ye do show the Lord's death till he come" — an explicit asser- tion that there is in the Lord's supper, such a manifestation of the crucifixion of Jesus, as will serve to set forth that event until his second appearing. And we scarcely need tell you, that, inas- much as the bread and the wine repre- sent the body and blood of the Savior, the administration of this sacrament is so commemorative of Christ's having been offered as a sacrifice, that we seem to have before us the awful and mysterious transaction, as though again were the cross reared, and the words "It is finished" pronounced in our hearing. We have here the represen- tation by significative action, just as, in the case of preaching, bj^ authorita- tive announcement. For no man can partake of this sacrament, with his spiritual sensibilities in free exercise, and not seem to himself to be travers- ing the garden and the mount, conse- crated by a Mediator's agony, whilst they witness the fearful struggles through which was effected our recon- ciliation to God. And if we attach weight to the opin- ion of the church in her best days, we must hold that there is actually a sa- crifice in the Eucharist, though of course not such as the papists pretend. Christ is offered in this sacrament, but only commemoratively. Yet the com- memoration is not a bare remember- ing, or putting ourselves in mind ; it is strictly a commemoration made to God the Father. As Christ, by presenting his death and satisfaction to his Father, continually intercedes for us in heaven, so the church on earth, when celebra- ting the Eucharist, approaches the throne of grace by representing Christ unto his Father in the holy mysteries of his death and passion.* From the beginning it has been al- ways the same awfully solemn rite, which might have attested and taught Christianity, had every written record perished from the earth. All along it has been the Gospel preached by ac- tion, a phenomenon of which you could give no account, except by admitting the chief facts of the New Testament history, and which might, in a great degree, have preserved a knowledge of those facts, had they never been regis- tered by Evangelists. It is like a pillar erected in the v/aste of centuries, in- delibly inscribed with memorials of our faith ; or rather, it is as the cross it- self, presenting to all ages the immola- tion of that victim who " put auay sin by the sacrifice of himself." And so long as this sacrament is administered in our churches, men shall never be able to plead that there are presented to tliem none but weak and ineflective exhibitions of Christ. If the crucifixion be not vivid, as delineated from the pulpit, it must be vivid as delineated from the altar. And it is nothing that hundreds absent themselves from the great celebration, and thus never wit- ness the representation of the crucifix- ion. They are invited to that celebra- tion, they are perfectly aware of its nature, and their remaining away can * See Mcde on Malachi, 1:11. 224 THE UNNATURALNESS OF DISOBEDIENCE TO THE GOSPEL. do nothing towards lessening its solem- nities, and stripping it of energy as an exhibition of Christ's death. And whilst men are members of a church in whose ordinances the Lord's death is continu- ally shown forth, we can be bold to ad- dress them, whether they neglect or whether they partake of those ordi- nances, in the very terms in which St. Paul addressed the Galatians of old. Yes, whatever our infirmities and defi- ciencies as preachers of the everlast- ing Gospel, we take high ground as in- trusted with dispensing the sacrament of the Eucharist : and whilst we have to deliver the bread of which Christ said, " Take, eat, this is my body," and the cup of which he declared, " this is my blood of the New Testament," we may look an assembly confidently in the face, and affirm that there are prof- fered them such exhibitions of the sa- crifice of the Mediator, that Jesus Christ is evidently set forth before their eyes, crucified among them. But we have now, in the second place, to assume that the facts of the Gospel are thus brought vividly before you, and to infer from it that disobedi- ence to the truth can only be ascribed to fascination or Avitchcraft. The ques- tion, " Who hath bewitched you ?" in- dicates the persuasion of the apostle, that the Gospel of the crucifixion was eminently adapted to make way upon earth. And this is a point which per- haps scarcely receives its due share of attention. We know so well that there is practically a kind of antipathy be- tween the doctrines of christianitjr and the human heart, that, whilst we ad- mit the necessity of a supernatural in- fluence to procure them reception, we never think of referring to sorcery to explain their rejection. It seems so natural to us to disobey the truth, how- ever clearly and forcibly propounded, that, when disobedience is to be ac- counted for, there appears no need for the calling in witchcraft. Yet there is, we believe, a mistake in this, and one calculated to bring dis- credit on the Gospel. If you represent it as a thing quite to be expected, that men would disobey the Gospel — just as though the Gospel were so con- structed as to be necessarily repulsive — you invest it with a character at va- riance with the wisdom of its Author j for you declare of the means, that they are not adapted to the end which is proposed. And we wish to maintain, that, situated as fallen men are, the Gospel of the crucifixion adapts itself so accu- rately to their wants, and addresses it- self so powerfully to their feelings, that their rejection of it is a mystery, in the explaining of which we are forced to have recourse to the witch's fascina- tions. We reckon that the great truth of Christianity, " God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son" for its rescue, is so fitted for overcoming the obstinacy, and melting the hearts of humankind, that it must be matter of amazement to higher or- ders of intelligence, that it should be heard with indifl'erence, or rejected with scorn. Angels, pondering a fact which appears to them more surprising than the humiliation and death of the everlasting Word — the fact that re- deemed creatures reject their Redeem- er — may propose amongst themselves the very question of our text, "who hath bewitched them that they should not obey the truth"?" We shall not include in our investi- gations into the fairness of this ques- tion the case of the open infidel, who professedly disbelieves the whole of Christianity. We omit this case, not because we think that it is not to be accounted for as the result of some species of fascination, but only because it is not one of those directlj'^ intended by St. Paul. As to the fascination or witchcraft, it scarce admits debate. For we can never allow, that, where reason has fair play, and the intellect is per- mitted to sit in calm judgment on the proofs to which Christianity appeals, there will be aught else but a verdict in favor of the divine origin of our re- ligion. So mighty are the evidences on which the faith rests, that, where there is candor in the inquirer, belief must be the issue of the inquiry. And where- soever there is a difierent result, we can be certain that there has been some fatal bias on the reasoning faculties; and that, whether it have been the sor- cery of his own passions, or of " the prince of the power of the air," the man has been as verily spell-bound throughout his investigations, as though with Saul he had gone down to the cave of the enchantress, and yielded THE UNNATURALNESS OF DISOBEDIENCE TO THE GOSPEL. 225 himself to her unhallowed dominion. But we pass by this case, and come at once to the considering, whether the Gospel of Christ be not admirably cal- culated for making way to the con- science and the heart, so that the mar- vel is not that it should here and there win a convert, but rather that it does not meet with universal success. Let it, first, be observed with how surpassing an energy this Gospel ap- peals to the fears of mankind. We say, to the fears — for it were indeed to take a contracted view of Christianity, to survey it as proffering mercy, and to overlook its demonstrations of wrath. If Jesus Christ have been "evidently set forth, crucified among you," there has been exhibited to you so stern a manifestation of God's hatred of sin, that, if you can still live in violation of his laws, some fascinating poAver must have made you reckless of con- sequences. There is this marvellous combination in the Gospel scheme, that we cannot preach of pardon with- out preaching of judgment. Every ho- mily as to how sinners may be forgiv- en, is equally a homily as to the fear- fulness of their doom, if they continue impenitent. We speak to men of Christ as bearing their " sins in his own body on the tree," and the speech seems to breathe nothing but unmeasured lov- ing-kindness. Yet who, on hearing it, can repress the thoughts, what must sin be, if no finite being could make atonement; what must its curse be, if Deity alone could exhaust it 1 And yet, with the great mass of men, this appeal to their fears is Avholly ineffectual. Is it that the appeal is not sufficiently en- ergetic 1 is it that it is not framed into such shape as to be adapted to beings with the passions and feelings of men '. Is it that there is nothing in our na- ture, which responds to a warning and summons thus constructed and con- veyed X We cannot admit the explana- tion. The crucifixion is a proclamation, than which there cannot be imagined a clearer and more thrilling, that an eter- nity of inconceivable wretchedness will be awarded to all who continue in sin. And yet men do continue in sin. The proclamation is practically as power- less as though it were the threat of an infant or an idiot. And we are bold to say of this, that it is unnatural. Men have the flesh which can quiver, and the hearts which can quake ; and we call it unnatural, that there should be no trembling, and no misgiving, when the wrath of the Almighty is being opened before them, and directed a- gainst them. And if unnatural, what account can we give of their disobeying the truth "? Oh, there have been brought to bear on them the arts of fascination and sorce- ry. I know not, in each particular case, what hath woven the spell, and breath- ed the incantation. But there must have been some species of moral Avitch- craft, by which they have been steeled against impressions which Avould other- wise have been necessarily produced. Has the magician been Avith them, Avho presides over the gold and silver, and persuaded them that wealth is so pre- cious that it should be amassed at all risks 1 Has the enchantress AA'ho min- gles the wine-cup, and wreathes the dance, been Avith them, beguiling them Avith the music of her blandishments, and assuring them that the pleasures of the Avorld are worth every penalty they incur 1 Has the wizard, who, by the circlings of his wand, can cause the glories of empire to pass before men's vieAV, as they passed, in mysteri- ous but magnificent phantoms, before that of Christ in his hour of tempta- tion, been with them, cajoling them Avith dreams of honor and distinction, till he have made them reckless of everlasting infamy 1 We say again, Ave know not Avhat the enchantment may have been. We know not the draught by Avhose fumes men have been stupi- fied, nor the voice by Avhose tones they have been infatuated. But Ave knoAV so thoroughly that the Gospel, published in their hearing, is exactly adapted for the acting on their fears, for the filling them Avith dread, and moving them to energy, that, Avhen we behold them in- different to the high things of futurity, and yet remember that " Christ Jesus hath been evidently set forth, crucified among them.," Ave can but resolve the phenomenon into some species or an- other of magical delusion ; we can but ply them with the question, " Avho hath bewitched you, that ye should not obey the truth 1'"' But it is saying little, to say that the Gospel addresses itself to the fears of 29 226 THE UNNiiTURALNESS OF DISOBEDIEKCE TO THE GOSPEL. mankind ; it is equally adapted for act- ing on feelings of a gentler and more generous description. The effect of the fall was not to banish from man's breast '' whatsoever things are lovely and of good report ;" but rather — and this is far more melancholy, as proving alienation from God — that, whilst there can yet be the play of fine and noble emotions between man and man, there is nothing of the kind from man to- wards his Maker. Those sympathies, which are readily called into exercise by the kindness and disinterestedness of a fellow-crea- ture, seem incapable of responding to the love and compassion of our benevo- lent Creator. That statue, so famed in antiquity, which breathed melody only when gilded by the sunbeams, was just the opposite to man in his exile and alienation. No lesser rays, whether from the moon or stars, could wake the music that was sepulchred in a stone. The sun must come forth, " as a gi- ant to run his race," and then the statue responded to his shinings, and hymned his praises. But not so with man. The lesser rays can wake some melody. The claims of country, or of kindred, can excite him to correspon- dent duties. But the sun shineth upon him in vain. The claims of God call forth no devotedness : and the stone which can discourse musically in an- swer to the glimmerings of philosophy, and the glow of friendship, is silent as the grave to the revelation of God and his Christ. We declare of the Gospel, that it addresses itself directly to those feel- ings, which, for the most part, are in- stantly wakened by kindness and be- neficence. Take away the divinity from this Gospel, reduce it into a re- cord of what one man hath done for others, and it relates a generous inter- position, whose objects, if they evinc- ed no gratitude, would be denounced as disgracing humanity. If it be true that we naturally entertain sentiments of the warmest affection towards those who have done, or suffered, some great thing on our behalf, it would seem quite to be expected that such senti- ments would be called into most vigor- ous exercise by the Mediator's work. If in a day when pestilence vx'as abroad on the earth, and men dreaded its en- trance into their household, we could carry them to a bed on which lay one racked by the terrible malady ; and tell them that this individual had vo- luntarily taken the fearful infection, and was going down in agony to the grave, because complying, of his own choice, with a mysterious decree which assured him, that, if he would thus suf- fer, the disease should have no power over their families — is it credible that they would look on the dying man with indifference ; or that, as they hearken- ed to his last requests, they would feel other than a resolve to undertake, as the most sacred of duties, the fulfilling the injunctions of one who, by so cost- ly a sacrifice, warded off the evil with which they were threatened 1 And yet, what would this be, compared with our leading them to the scene of crucifix- ion, and showing them the Redeemer dying in their stead 1 You cannot say, that, if the sufferer on his death-bed would be a spectacle to excite emo- tions of gratitude, and resolutions of obedience, the spectacle of Christ on the cross might be expected to be sur- veyed with carelessness and coldness. Yet such is undeniably the fact. The result which would naturally be produ- ced is not produced. Men would na- turally feel gratitude, but they do not feel gratitude. They would naturally be softened into love and submission, and they manifest only insensibility and hard-heartedness. And what are we to say to this 1 Here are beings who are capable of certain feelings, and who show nothing of those feelings when there is most to excite them ; beings who can dis- play love to every friend but their best, and gratitude to every benefac- tor but their greatest. Oh, we say — and it is the unnaturalness of the ex- hibition which forces us to say — that enchantment has been at work, steal- ing away the senses, and deadening the feelings. In all other cases the heart has free play; but in this it is trammelled, as bj'some magical cords, and cannot beat generously. Satan, the great deceiver, who seduced the first of humankind, has been busy with one sort or another of illusion, and has so bound men with his spells that they are mor- ally entranced. We know not, as we said in the former case, what may THE UNNATD-RALNESS OF DISOBEDIENCE TO THE GOSPEL. 227 have been the stupifying charm, or the coercive incantation. We have not gone down with them to the haunts of the sorcerer, that we might know by what rites they have thus been human- ized. But they would never be indiffer- ent where there is most to excite, and insensible where there is all that can tell upon their feelings, if they had not surrendered the soul to some pow- er of darkness, some beguiling and o'ermastering passion, some agency which, like that pretended to by the woman of Endor, professes to give life to the dead. And therefore remember- ing, that, as grafted into the Christian Church, they are men " before whose eyes Jesus Christ hath been evidently set forth, crucified among them," we cannot see them manifesting no love to the Savior, and yielding him no alle- giance, without feeling that this their vehement ingratitude is wholly unna- tural, and without therefore pressing home upon them the question, " who hath bewitched you that ye should not obey the truth V"' We may certainly add, that, as ad- dressing itself to men's hope, the Gos- pel is so calculated for making and retaining disciples, that nothing but the workings of sorcery will explain its rejection. It must be remembered that Christ, as Mediator, not only gain- ed our pardon, but procured for us everlasting happiness. And if we must judge the immenseness of the escaped punishment, we must judge also that of the proffered glory, by the fact that our substitute was none other than a person of the Trinity. If Christ Jesus is set before men, crucified among them, they are manifestly taught, that, as the price paid is not to be comput- ed, neither is the happiness of which it was the purchase. And they are be- ings keenly alive to their own inter- ests, readily excited by any prospect of good, and who exhibit the greatest alacrity and vigor in pursuing such plans as promise them advantage. It is moreover their natural constitution, to forego a present for a future and far greater good, and to submit cheer- fully to privations, in hopes of receiv- ing what shall be more than equivalent. We call this their natural constitution; and we therefore, further, call| it un- natural, and demonstrative of strange and sinister influence, that they should choose the trifling in preference to the unmeasured, and give up the everlasting for the sake of the transient. Yet this men do when they disobey the Gospel. The Gospel addresses itself directly to their desire after happiness. It makes its appeal to that principle in their na- ture, which prompts them to provide for the future at the expense of the present. In every other case they hearken to such address, and respond to such appeal. But in this case, which differs from every other only in the in- calculable superiority of the proffered good, they turn a deaf ear, and wear all the appearance of a natural incapa- city of being stirred by such an engine as the Gospel brings to bear. What account shall we give of this 1 A principle of their nature is in full visfor, except in the instance in which there is most to excite it, and then it seems utterly extinguished. They can pursue a future good, unless it be infi- nite, and be moved by any prospect of happiness, except of everlasting. There must have been sorcery here ; and we have no difficulty in determining how the magician has worked. The devil has practised that jugglery which causes the objects of faith to shrink into in- significance, and those of sense to di- late into magnitude. There has been the weaving of that spell which cir- cumscribes the view, so that, though a man can look forward, he never looks beyond the grave. There has been the drinking of that cup of voluptuousness, of which whosoever partakes is mad- dened into longing for yet deeper draughts. It is sorcery, it is witchcraft. Men would not hesitate, if an earthly good were to be secured on the condi- tions of the Gospel ; and they refuse, when the good is heavenly, only be- cause they had suffered themselves to be beguiled, and cheated, and entran- ced. There is a charm upon them, and their own passions have sealed it, bind- ing them to love the world, and the things that are in the world. There is an enchanted circle, which their indulg- ed lusts have traced, and within which they walk, so that they cannot expati- ate over the vast spreadings of their existence. There is a syren voice, and their own wishes syllable its whispers, telling them there is no cause for haste, 22S SONGS IN THE NIGHT. but that hereafter it will be soon enough to attend to eternity. And thus there is no defect in the Gospel. It is adapt- ed, with the nicest precision, to crea- tures so constituted as ourselves. But v/e live in the midst of gorgeous de- ceits, and brilliant meteors. The wiz- ard's skill, and the necromancer's art, are busied with hiding from us what we most need to know ; and our eyes are dazzled by the splendid apparitions with which the god of this world peo- ples his domain ; and our ears are fas- cinated by the melodies in which plea- sure breathes her incantations ; and thus it comes to pass, that we are verily " bewitched " into disobeying the truth. Would to God that we might all strive to break away from the seduc- tions and flatteries of earth, and give ourselves in good earnest to the seek- ing happiness in heaven. And what is it that we ask of men, when we entreat them to escape from the magician, and live for eternity 1 Is it that they should be less intellectual, less philosophical? On the contrary, religion is the nurse of intellect, and philosophy is most no- ble when doing homage to revelation. It is not intellectual to live only for this world, it is not philosophical to remain ignorant of God. Is it that they should surrender their pleasures, and walk a round of unvaried mortification 1 We ask them to surrender nothing which a rational being can approve, or an immortal vindicate. We leave them every pleasure which can be enjoyed without a blush, and remembered with- out remorse. We ask only that they would flee those vices whose end is death, cultivate those virtues which are as much the happiness as the or- nament of man, and propose to them- selves an object commensurate with their capacities. This, let them be as- sured, is practical Christianity — to shun what, even as men, they should avoid, and pursue what, even as men, they should desire. Shall we not then beseech the Al- mighty, that we may have strength to break the spell, and dissolve the illu- sion! The Philistines are upon us, as upon Samson, and we are yet, it may be, in the lap of the enchantress. But all strength is not gone. The Spirit of the living God may yet be entreated j and the razor of divine judgment hath not swept ofT the seven locks wherein our might lies. And therefore, how- ever bewitched, each amongst us may yet struggle with the sorcerer who has bound him ; and we can assure him that there is such efficacy in hearty prayer to the Lord, that, if he cry for deliverance, the green withes shall be " as tow when it toucheth the fire," and the new cords be broken like a thread from his arms. SERMON II. SONGS IN THE NIGHT. " But none saith, Where is God my Maker, who giveth songs in the night 1" — Job, 35 : lO. In regard of the concerns and occur- rences of life, some men are always disposed to look at the bright side, and others at the dark. The tempers and feelings of some are so cheerful and elastic, that it is hardly within the power of ordinary circumstances to depress and overbear them ; whilst others, on the contrary, are of so gloomy a temperament, that the least SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 229 of what is adverse serves to confound them. But if Ave can divide men into these classes, when reference is had simply to their private affairs, we doubt whether the same division will hold, we are sure it will not in the same pro- portion, when the reference is general- ly to God's dealings with our race. In regard of these dealings, there is an al- most universal disposition to the look- ing on the dark side, and not on the bright ; as though there were cause for nothing but wonder, that a God of in- finite love should permit so much mis- ery in any section of his intelligent creation. You find but few who are ready to observe what provision has been made for human happiness, and what capacities there are yet in the world, notwithstanding its vast disor- ganization, of ministering to the satis- faction of such as prefer righteousness to wickedness. Now we cannot deny, that if we merely regard the earth as it is, the exhibition is one whose darkness it is scarcely possible to overcharge. But w-hen you seek to gather from the con- dition of the world the character of its Governor, you are bound to consider, not what the world is, but what it would be, if all, which that Governor hath done on its behalf, were allowed to produce its legitimate effect. And we are sure, that, when you set your- selves to compute the amount of what may be called unavoidable misery — that misery which must equally re- main, if Christianity possessed unli- mited sway — you would find no cause for wonder, that God has left the earth burdened with so great a weight of sor- row, but only of praise, that he has provided so amply for the happiness of the fallen. The greatest portion of the misery which is so pathetically bewailed, ex- ists in spite, as it were, of God's bene- volent arrangements, and would be avoided, if men were not bent on choos- ing the evil, and rejecting the good. And even the unavoidable misery is so mitigated by the provisions of Chris- tianity, that, if there were nothing else to be borne, the pressure would not be heavier than just sufficed for the ends of moral discipline. There must be sorrow on the earth, so long as there is death; but, if this were all, the cer- tain hope of resurrection and immor- tality would dry every tear, or cause, at least, triumph so to blend with la- mentation, that the mourner would be almost lost in the believer. Thus it is true, both of those causes of unhappi- ness which would remain, if Christiani- ty were universally prevalent, and of those for whose removal this religion was intended and adapted, that they offer no argument against the compas- sions of God. The attentive observer may easily satisfy himself, that, though for wise ends a certain portion of suf- fering has been made unavoidable, the divine dealings with man are, in the largest sense, those of tenderness and love, so that, if the great majority of our race were not determined to be wretched, enough has been done to in- sure their being happy. And when we come to give the reasons why so vast an accumulation of wretchedness is to be found in every district of the globe, we cannot assign the will and appoint- ment of God : we charge the whole on man's forgetfulness of God, on his contempt or neglect of remedies and assuagements divinely provided ; yea, we offer in explanation the words of our text, " none saith. Where is God my Maker, who giveth songs in the night 1" We shall not stay to trace the con- nection between these words and the preceding, but rather separate at once the text from the context. We may then consider it as giving a beautiful character of God, which should attract men towards him, and which is suffi- cient pledge, that, if it did, they would be happy even in the midst of adversity. Or we may regard the words, when thus taken by themselves, as expressive of the inexcusableness of men in neglect- ing God, when he has revealed himself under a character the most adapted to the fixing their confidence. It is evi- dent that Elihu represents it as a most strange and criminal thing, that, though our Maker giveth songs in the night, he is not inquired after by those on whom calamity presses. We may, therefore, divide what we have to say on our text under two general heads ; considering, in the first place, what an aggravation it is of the guilt of men's forgetting their Creator, that he is a God " who giveth songs in the night ;" S30 SONGS IJf THE NIGHT. and showing you, in the second place, with how great truth and fitness this touching description may be applied to our Maker. Now we must all be conscious, that, if pain and suffering were removed from the world, a great portion of the Bible would become quite inapplicable ; for on almost its every page there are sayings which would seem out of place, if addressed to beings inaccessible to grief. And it is one beautiful instance of the adaptation of revelation to our circumstances, that the main thing which it labors to set forth is the love of our Maker. There are many untouched points on which curiosity craves infor- mation, and on which apostles and pro- phets might have been commissioned to pour a tide of illustration. But there is no point on which it was so impor- tant to us to be certified, as on this of God's love towards us, notwithstand- ing our alienation. We emphatically needed a revelation to assure us of this ; for natural theology, whatever its suc- cess in delineating the attributes of God, could never have proved that sin had not excluded us from all share in his favor. And accordingly it is at this the Bible labors; and thereby it becomes most truly the Bible of the fallen. A revelation of God to a rank of beings untainted by sin, would probably not be much occupied with affirming and exhibiting the divine love. There must be guilt, and therefore some measure of consciousness of exposure to wrath, ere there can be doubt as to whether the work of God's hands be still the object of his favor. The Bible there- fore, if we may thus speak, of an order of angels, might contain nothing but gorgeous descriptions of divine supre- macy and magnificence, opening the mightiest mysteries, but having no re- ference to the tenderness of a Father, which was always experienced, and none to the forgiveness of sinners, which was never required. But such a Bible would be as much out of place on this fallen creation, as ours in a sphere where all was purity and light. The revelation, which alone can profit us, must be a revelation of mercy, a revelation which brings God before us as not made irreconcilable by our many offences ; a revelation, in short, which discloses such arrangements for our restoration to favor, that there could be a night on which cherubim and se- raphim lined our firmament, chanting the chorus, " peace on earth, good-will towards man," and thus proving of our Maker, that he is a God "who giveth songs in the night." Now you all know that this is the "character of the revelation with which we have been favored. Independently on the great fact with which the Bible is occupied, the fact of our redemption through the suretyship of a Mediator, the inspired writers are continually af- firming, or insisting upon proofs, that the Almighty loves the human race with a love that passeth knowledge ; and they give us, in his name, the most animating promises, promises whose full lustre cannot be discerned in the sunshine, but only when the sky is overcast with clouds. We must, for ex- ample, be ourselves brought to the very dust, ere we can rightly estimate this exquisite description of a being, who made the stars, and holdeth the waters in the hollow of his hand, " God, that comforteth those that are cast down." We must know for ourselves the ago- ny, the humiliation, of unforeseen grief, ere we can taste the sweetness of the promise, that God, he who hath "spread out the heavens like a curtain," and or- dereth the motions of all the systems of a crowded immensity, " shall wipe away tears from off all faces." But if God have thus revealed him- self in the manner most adapted to the circumstances of the suffering, does not the character of the revelation vastly aggravate the sinfulness of those by whom God is not sought 1 Let all ponder the simple truth, that the hav- ing in their hands u Bible, which woh- drously exhibits the tenderness of Dei- ty, will leave us without excuse, if not found at last at peace with our Maker. For we are not naturally inaccessible to kindness. We are so constituted that a word of sympathy, when we are in trouble, goes at once to the heart, and even the look of compassion acts as a cordial, and excites grateful feel- ings. We have only to be brought into circumstances of pain and perplexity, and immediately we show ourselves acutely sensitive to the voice of con- solation ; and any of our fellow-crea- SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 231 tares has only to approach us in the character of a comforter, and we feel ourselves drawn out towards the be- nevolent being, and give him at once our thankfulness and friendship. But it is not thus with reference to God. God comes to us in the hour of aiixiety, bidding us cast all our care upon him ; but we look round for another resting- place. He comes to us in the season of affliction, offering us the oil and wine of heavenly consolation ; but we hew out for ourselves " broken cisterns." He approaches in the moment of dan- ger, proffering us refuge and succor ; but we trust in our own strength, or seek help from those who are weak as ourselves. But let us be well assured that this single circumstance, that God hath revealed himself as a comforter, to those whose condition makes them need comfort, will prove us inexcusa- ble, if we die without giving him the heart's best affections. He acts upon us in the manner in which, both from our necessities and our susceptibilities, there is the greatest likelihood of our being moved to the making him the prime object of our love. And if, not- withstanding, we prefer the creature to the Creator, what shall we have to urge, when he, who now deals with us in merey, begins to deal with us in ven- geance 1 Yes, it is not the manifesta- tion of majesty, nor of power, nor of awfulness, which will leave us inexcu- sable ; it is the manifestation of com- passion, of good will, of tenderness. A fallen and unhappy creature, harassed by a thousand griefs, and exposed to a thousand perils, might have shrunk from exhibitions of Deity on his throne of clouds, and in his robes of light. He might have pleaded that there was every thing to confound, and nothing to encourage him. But what can he say, when the exhibitions are of God, as making all the bed of the sick man in his sickness, and cheering the widow in her desolateness, and supplying the beggar in his poverty, and guarding the outcast in his exile ? Are not these exhibitions touching enough, thrilling enough, encouraging enough? Oh, I might perhaps have felt that it was not to prove the human race necessarily inexcusable in their forgetfuluess of God, to say, none saith, where is God my Maker who is "' from everlasting, and to everlasting," who '* sitteth upon the circle of the earth, and the inhabi- tants thereof are as grasshoppers," who " telleth the number of the stars, and calleth them all by their names" — but I feel that it is to express such a wilful hard-heartedness as must demand and justify the severest condemnation, to say, " none saith, where is God my Maker, who giveth songs in the night '." But we now proceed to the showing you, as we proposed in the second place, with how great truth and fitness this touching description may be ap- plied to our Maker. We have already referred to the pre- cise adaptation of the Bible to our cir- cumstances, and we would now exam- ine this adaptation with a little more attention. We may assert that there cannot be imagined, much less found, the darkness, in passing through which there is no promise of Scripture by which you may be cheered. We care not what it is which hath woven the darkness ; we are sure that God has made provision for his people's exult- ing, rather than lamenting, as the gloom gathers round them, and settles over them. Whatever be the nature of the afflictions with which any man has been visited, can he deny, if indeed he be one who has received Christ into the soul, that he has found ''a word in sea- son" in Scripture ; will he not, at tlie least, confess, that, if he have passed through the period of calamity without experiencing such consolations as filled him with gratitude, it has been through his own fault and faithlessness, seeing that even the "vale of Baca" can be used by the righteous "as a well." Let us take the case of most frequent occurrence, but of which frequency diminishes nothing of the bitterness. We mean the case of the loss of friends, the case in which deatii makes way into a family, and carries off one of the most beloved of its members. It is night — deep night, in a household, whenso- ever this occurs. When the loss is of another kind, it may admit of repair. Property may be injured, some cher- ished plan may be frustrated — but in- dustry may be again successful, and hope may fix its eye on other objects. But when those whom we love best die, there is no comfort of this sort with which we can be comforted. For n g o SONGS IN THE NIGHT. a time, at least, the loss seems irrepa- rable ; so that, though the Avounded sensibilities may afterwards be healed, and even turn to the living as they turned to the dead, yet, whilst the cala- mity is fresh, we repulse, as injurious, the thought that the void in our affec- tions can ever be filled, and are persuad- ed that the blank in the domestic group can be occupied by nothing but the hallowed memory of the buried. It is therefore night in the household, dark- ness, a darkness that may be felt. And philosophy comes in, with its well- meant but idle endeavors to console those Avho sit in this darkness. It can speak of the unavoidableness of death, of the duty of bearing Avith manly for- titude what cannot be escaped, of the injuriousness of excessive grief; and it may even hazard a conjecture of re- union in some world beyond the grave. And pleasure approaches with its al- lurements and fascinations, offering to cheat the mind into forgetfulness, and wile the heart from its sadness. But neither philosophy nor pleasure can avail any thing in the chamber of death; the taper of the one is too faint for so oppressive a gloom, and the torch of the other burns sickly in so unwonted an atmosphere. Is then the darkness such that those whom it envelopes are incapable of being comforted 1 Oh, not so. There may be those amongst your- selves who can testify, that, even in a night so dreary and desolate, there is a source whence consolation may be drawn. The promises of Scripture are never more strikingly fulfilled than when death has made an inroad, and taken away, at a stroke, some object of deep love. Indeed, it is God's own word to the believer, '' I will be with him in trouble" — as though that pre- sence, which can never be withdrawn, then became more real and intense. What are we to say of cases which continually present themselves to the parochial minister! He enters a house, whose darkened windows proclaim that one of its inmates is stretched out a corpse. He finds that it is the fairest and dearest whom death has made his prey, and that the blow has fallen where sure to be most deeply felt. And he is prepared for the burst of bitter sorrow. He knows that the heart, when most purified by grace, is made of feel- ing stuff; for grace, which removes the heart of stone, and substitutes that of flesh, will refine, rather than extinguish, human sensibilities. But what words does he hear from lips, whence nothing but lamentation might have been ex- pected to issue % '' The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord." The mother will rise up from the side of her pale still child ; and though on the cheek of that child (alas, never again to be warm with affection) there are tears which show how a parent's grief has overflowed, she will break into the ex- clamation of the Psalmist, " I will sing of mercy and judgment, unto thee, O Lord, will I sing." And when, a few days after, the slow windings of the fu- neral procession are seen, and the mi- nister advances to meet the train, and pours forth the rich and inspiriting words, " I am the Resurrection and the Life, he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live " — is it only the low murmur of suppressed anguish by which he is answered l can he not feel that there are those in the group whose hearts bound at the magnificent announcement 1 and, as he looks at the mourners, does he not ga- ther, from the uplifted eye and the moving lip, that there is one at least who is triumphing in the fulfilment of the prediction, " death, I will be thy plagues ; grave, I will be thy destruction 1" And what are we to say to these things 1 what but that, in the deepest moral darkness, there can be music, music which sounds softer and sweeter than by day; and that, when the in- struments of human melody are broken, there is a hand which can sweep the heartstrings and wake the notes of praise 1 Yes, philosophy can communi- cate no comfort to the afflicted : it may enter where all is night ; but it leaves what it found, even weeping and wail- ing. And pleasure may take the lyre, whose strains have often seduced and enchanted ; but the worn and wearied spirit has no ear, in the gloom, for what sounded magically, when a thou- sand lights were blazing. But religion, faith in the promises of that God who is the Husband of the widow and the Father of the fatherless, this can cause the sorrowing to be glad in the midst SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 233 of their sorrow; for it is a description which every believer will confess borne out by experience, that God our Maker " ofiveth sonsfs in the niorht." t" o o But again — how beautifully accurate is this description, if referred general- ly to God's spiritual dealings with our race. It may well be said, that, so soon as man had fallen, it was night on this creation. The creature had shut itself out from the favor of the Creator ; and what was this but to shroud the globe with the worst of all darkness? It was a darkness which no efforts of the human mind have been able to dis- perse. There is a point up to which natural theology has advanced, but which it has never passed. It has dis- covered a want, but not a supply ; it has detected a disease, but not its re- medy. We do not perhaps need the written word, in order to our ascer- taining that we are exposed to God's wrath. The remonstrances and forebo- dings of conscience are, in themselves, sufficient to excite in us a belief and dread of judgment to come, and per- haps to extort from us the inquiry, " What must I do to be saved 1" But the answer to this inquiry can be fur- nished only by a higher and deeper than natural theology. We make some way by groping in the darkness, but cannot emerge into the light. But, God be thanked, man was not left to complain, and lament, in the midst of that darkness vi^hich his apos- tacy wove. There were provisions for his rescue, which came into force at the moment of transgression. No soon- er had man fallen than prophecy, in the form of a promise, took the span of time, and gathered into a sentence the moral history of the world. And we have great reason for believing that zven unto Adam did this promise speak of good things to come, and that he kvas comforted, in his exile from Para- lise, by the hope which it gave him of inal deliverance. Compelled though he vas to till an earth, on which rested he curse of its Creator, he may have aiown that there was blessing in store; md that, though he and his children oust dig the ground in the sweat of heir brow, there would fall on it a weat like great drops of blood, having irtue to remove the oppressive male- ,, iction. It must have been bitter to him to hear of the thorn and the thistle ; but he may have learnt how thorns would be woven into a crown, and placed round the forehead of one who should be the lost "tree of life" to a dying creation. It was only to have been ex- pected, when the fatal act had been committed, that there would have as- cended from the earth one fearful cry, and that then an eternal silence would have covered the desecrated globe. But, in place of this — though the ga- thered night was not at once dipper- sed — there still went up the anthem of praise from lowing herds, and waving corn, and stately forests; and man, in his exile, had an evening and a morn- ing hymn, Avhich spake gratefully of the head of the serpent as bruised by the seed of the woman — and all because God had already discovered himself as our Maker " who giveth songs in the night." Thus also it has been, and is, with in- dividual cases. There may be many in this assembly who have known what it is to be oppressed with apprehensions of God's wrath against sin. They have passed through that dreary season, when conscience, often successfully re- sisted, or dragged into slumber, migh- tily asserts its authority, arrays the transgressions of a life, and anticipates the penalties of an eternity. And we say of the man who is suffering from conviction of sin, that it is more truly night with him, the night of the soul, than with the most wretched of those on whom lie the burdens of temporal wo. And natural theology, as we have already stated, can offer no encourage- ment in this utter midnight. It may have done its part in producing the convictions, but, in so doing, must have exhausted its resources. All its efforts must have been directed to the furnish- ing demonstrations of the inflexible government of a God of justice and righteousness; and the more powerful these demonstrations, the more would they shut up the transgressor to the certainty of destruction. And never- theless, after a time, you find the man, who had been brought into so awful a darkness, and for whose comfort there is nothing to be gained from natural theology, walking in gladness, with a lightened heart and a buoyant spirit. What could not be fouud in the stores 30 234 SONGS IN THE NIGHT. of natural theology, has been found in those of revealed intelligence, that God can, at the same time, be just and a justifier, that sinners can be pardoned, and sins not go unpunished. Therefore is it that he who was in darkness, the darkness of the soul, is now lifting up his head with joy, and exulting in hope. The Spirit of God, which produced the conviction, has taken of the things of Christ, and, showing them to the sou], made them effectual to conversion. And we call upon you to compare tlie man in these two estates. With his con- sciousness of the evil of sin heighten- ed, rather than diminished, you find him changed from the desponding into the triumphant ; exhibiting, in the larg- est measure, the accomplishment of the words, that there shall be given " beau- ty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourn- ing, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness." You can offer no accomit of this surprising transforma- tion, whilst you search for its reasons in natural causes. But when you ap- peal to the workings of Omnipotence ; when you tell us of a propitiation for sin ; when you refer to a divine agent, whose special office it is, to bring men to put faith in a sacrifice which recon- ciled a guilty world to its Creator — then you leave no cause for surprise, that, from a soul, round which had ga- thered deep and stern shadows, there should be ascending the rich notes of praise, and the stirring strains of hope ; but then you are only proving with what exquisite truth it may be said, that God our Maker " giveth songs in the night." We might easily multiply our illus- trations. We might follow the believ- er through all the stages of his pro- gress from earth to heaven ; and where- soever you could show that it was night, there could we show you that God " giveth songs." It is not that he giveth no songs in the day ; for he is with his people, and he wakes their praises, in all time of their wealth, as well as in all time of their tribulation. But it is our nature to rejoice when all within and without is undisturbed ; the miracle is to "rejoice in tribulation;" and this miracle is continually wrought as the believer presses through the wilderness. The harp of the human spirit never yields such sweet music, as when its framework is most shat- tered, and its strings are most torn. Then it is, when the world pronounces the instrument useless, and man would put it away as incapable of melody, that the finger of God delights in touching it, and draws from it a fine swell of harmony. Come night, come calamity, come affliction. God still says to his people, as he said to the Jews, when expecting the irruption of the Assyrian, " ye shall have a song, as in the night." Is it the loss of property with which believers are visited 1 Our Maker ''giv- eth songs in the night," and the chorus is heard, we have in heaven "a better, even an enduring substance." Is it the loss of friends I Our Maker, as we have shown you, '* giveth songs in the night 5" they " sorrow not, even as others which have no hope ;" and over the very grave is heard the fine con- fession, " Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord." Have they their sea- ' sons of spiritual depression, when they \ cannot realize their privileges, nor as- sure themselves of acceptance with Godi Indeed this is hard to bear — perhaps the severest of the trials which they are called to endure. This was ; i David's case, when he pathetically ex- | ll claimed, "Deep calleth unto deep, at ' the noise of thy water-spouts ; ail thy waves and thy billows are gone over me." Yet the Psalmist could go on, in : the very next verse, to declare, " The Lord will command his loving-kindness in the day-time, and in the night his song shall be with me." And no be- liever holds fast his confidence, as Da- vid did, without proving, that, if God hide for a while the light of his coun- tenance, it is in order to make it more valued ; without finding cause to break into the song, " it is good for me that I was afflicted." Let the thickest night gather ; let death be at hand ; and shall it be said that our text fails of accomplishment! On the contrary, it is here emphatically true that our Ma- ker " giveth songs in the night." The believer in Christ knows and feels that his Redeemer "hath abolished death." He is not insensible to the terrors of death ; for he regards the separation of soul and body as a direct consequence of the original curse, and therefore aw- ful and disastrous. But then he is so SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 235 assured of immortality and a resurrec- tion, that he can approach the grave with confidence, and even exult that his departure is at hand. What upholds the dying man ] What throws over his wasted countenance that air of sereni- ty 1 What prompts those expressions of peace, those breathings of hope, which seem so little in accordance with his circumstances of trouble and decay 1 It is that God is whispering to his soul such words as these, '' Fear thou not, for I am with thee ; be not dismayed, for I am thy God ; I will strengthen thee, yea, I will help thee." It is that his Maker is reminding him of the pledge, that death shall be swal- lowed up in victory; that he is already causing the minstrelsy of the eternal city to come stealing on his ear — and is not all this the most convincing and touching evidence, that God our Maker ^' giveth songs in the night 1" Who would not be a believer in Christ, who would not be at peace with God"? When such are the privileges of righteousness, the privileges through life, the privileges in death, the won- der is, that all are not eager to close with the offers of the Gospel, and make those privileges their own. Yet, alas, the ministers of Christ have to ex- claim, with the prophet, '' who hath believed our report V and, with Elihu, "none saith, where is God my Maker, who giveth songs in the night V There may yet be moral insensibility in num- bers who hear me. What shall we say to them"? They may have youth on their side, and health, and plenty. The sky may be clear, and the voice of joy may be heard in their dwelling. But there must come a night, a dreary and oppressive night; for youth must de- part, and strength be enfeebled, and sorrow encountered, and the shadows of evening fall upon the path. And what will they do then, if now, as God complains by his prophet, " the harp and the viol, the tabret, and pipe, and wine, are in their feasts, but they re- gard not the work of the Lord, neither consider the operation of his hands V They may have their song now ; but then we shall have only the bitter ex- clamation, " the harvest is passed, the summer is ended, and we are not sav- ed." We warn you in time. Though the firmament be bright, we show you the cloud, small as a man's hand, al- ready rising from the sea ; and we urge you to the breaking loose from habits of sin, and fleeing straightway to the Mediator Christ. It is for baubles which they despise when acquired, wealth which they count nothing when gained, gratifications which they loathe so soon as passed, that men sell their souls. And all that we now entreat of the young, is, that they will not, in the spring-time of life, strike this foul bar- gain. In the name of Him who made you, we beseech you to separate your- selves at once from evil practices and evil associates ; lest, in that darkest of all darkness, when the sun is to be " black as sackcloth of hair," and the moon as blood, and the stars are to fall, you may utter nothing but the passion- ate cry of despair ; whilst the righte- ous are lifting up their heads with joy, and proving that they have trusted in a God " who giveth songs in the night." 1 236 TESTIMONY CONFIRMED BY EXPERIENCE, SERMON III. TESTIMONY CONFIRMED BY EXPERIENCE. ' As we have lieanl, so have we seen, in the city of the Lord of Hosts, in the city of our God ; God w31 establish it for ever." — Psalm 43: 8. There is a very striking part in the Litany of our church, when, between two earnest supplications for deliver- ance, God is reminded of the great things which he had wrought in form- er times. The supplications to which we refer are put into the mouths of the people. " Lord, arise, help iis, and deliver us for thy name's sake." "0 Lord, arise, help us, and deliver us for thine honor." Between these the mi- nister is directed to exclaim, " O God, we have heard with our ears, and our fathers have declared unto us, the no- ble works that thou didst in their days, and in the old time before them." We are always much struck with this ex- clamation, and with the consequent al- teration in the plea with which the people urge their suit for deliverance. In the first petition it is, "deliver us for thy name's sake ;" in the second, " deliver us for thine honor." The mi- nister has heard the congregation in- voking God to come forth to their suc- cor, and humbly reminding him how consistent it would be with all the at- tributes of his nature — for these are included in his name — to comply with their earnest supplication. And then the minister, as though he knew that there was yet higher ground which the people might take, commemorates the marvellous interpositions of which olden times had set down the records, reminding the congregation, by making confession to God, of deliverances wrought on behalf of their fathers. The people are animated by the recol- lection. They feel tliat God has pledg- ed liimself, by former answers to prayer, to arise, and shield those who cast them- selves on his help. His own glory has become concerned in the not leaving such to perish ; and shall they not tlien, with fresh confidence, reiterate their petition! No sooner therefore has the minister commemorated God's mer- cies, than the people, as though they had a new source of hope, press their suit with yet greater earnestness; and their voices mingle in the cry, '* O Lord, arise, help us, and deliver us for thine honor." Is not this, portion of our Litany constructed on the princi- ple, that, what we have heard of God's doings in other times, we may expect to see or experience in our own, pro- vided only there be similarity of cir- cumstance! are not, in short, the ex- clamation of the minister, and the con- sequent petition of the people, the ex- pressions of a hope, or rather a belief, that the words of our text shall again be appropriate, "as we have heard, so have we seen, in the city of the Lord of Hosts 1" It must have been to some special instance in which God had wrought a deliverance, parallel to one celebrated in Jewish annals, that reference is made in our text. Tlie statement is exactly what would be uttered, if the parties, who have joined in the quoted sen- tences of our Litany, were to become the subjects of a divine interposition, similar to those which the minister commemorated. But it is observed by Bishop Horslej^, that there is no record- ed interference of God on behalf of Jerusalem, which answers to the lan- guage employed in this Psalm. And it is therefore probable that a prophetic, or, at least, a spiritual interpretation must be given to the hymn. Indeed there are expressions which will not TESTIMONY CONFIRMED BY EXPERIENCE. 237 admit of being applied to the literal Jerusalem. Thus, in our text, it is said of the city of our God, " God will es- tablish it for ever" — a prediction which cannot belong to the metropolis of Ju- dea, which was often given up to tke spoiler, but whicli holds good of that spiritual city, the Church of God, a- against which Christ declared that '' the gates of hell shall never prevail." And when, towards the conclusion of the Psalm, the succored people are bidden to march in joyful procession round their beautiful city, that they might see how unscathed were its walls, how glo- rious its structures — " walk about Zion, and go round about her ; tell the tow- ers thereof; mark ye well her bul- warks, consider her palaces, that ye may tell it to the generation following " — you can scarcely fail to feel, that the thing enjoined is the considering and admiring the privileges and securities of the church, in order that we may both prize them ourselves, and be in- cited to the preserving them for our children. We may therefore regard our text as uttered by members of the Church of Christ, that city of God Avhich is made glad by the streams of the river of life. It is an assertion, made by those who had fled to the church for safety, expecting deliverance within its walls, that their own experience bore out to the letter what had been reported by the believers of other days. The differ- ence between hearing and seeing, of which they make mention, is the differ- ence between receiving truth on the testimony of others, and the being our- selves its witnesses — a distinction such as that which the patriarch Job drew, when humbled through a personal ac- quaintance with the dealings of God, " 1 have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear, but now mine eye seeth thee ; wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes." And the great principle, or fact, which it will become us to endeavor to establish and illustrate, in discoursing on our text, is, that before there is any personal ex- perience in matters of religion, there may be an acting on the experience of others, and that, wheresoever this is faithfully done, the personal experience will be the probable result. We pro- p ceed at once to the exhibiting this principle or fact ; designing to adduce, if possible, the most practical, as well as the most apposite instances, in which men may say, " as we have heard, so have we seen, in the city of the Lord of Hosts." Now we shall begin with an applica- tion of the principle involved in our text, which has been made at great length by modern writers,* and whose importance seems to claim for it the closest attention. We refer to the way in which men reach their persuasion that the Bible is God's Avord ; for they evidently, for the most part, receive the Bible as inspired, long before they can prove any thing in regard of its in- spiration. We put the Bible into the hands of our children, as the word of the living God, and therefore demand- ing a reverence which can be claimed by no other A^olume in the whole circle of authorship. And our children grow up with what might almost be called, an innate persuasion of the inspiration of Scripture ; they are all but born with the belief; and they carry it with them to riper years, rather as a received ax- iom, than as a demonstrated verity. It is almost exclusively on hearsay, if we may use the word, that the Bible is taken as divine, and the Apocrypha passed by as human ; so that nuinbers, who are perhaps strenuous for the right of private judgment, do virtually, in the most important matter, receive and re- ject on the sole authority of the church. And it is well that it is so. If there were nothing of this taking upon trust ; if every man, in place of having to set himself to the perusal of a volume which he regards as divine, must first pick out by laborious study, from all the au- thorship of antiquity, the few pages which really bear the signature of hea- ven, there would be an arrest on the progress of Christianity ; for the life of each would be exhausted, ere he had constructed the book by which he must be guided. And yet it cannot be taken as a very satisfactory account of hu- man belief, that it thus follows upon human bidding. But it is here, as we believe, that the principle of our text comes beautifully into operation. The church, like a parent of a family, gives * Particularly Dr. Chalmers, in the fourth vo- lume of his works. 238 TESTIMONY CONFIRMED BY EXPERIENCE. a volume into the hands of those who join her communion, bidding them re- ceive it as divine, and study it as the word which can alone guide them to glory. And her members, like the chil- dren of the household, have no better reason, at first, for receiving the Bible as inspired, than because they have heard so in the city of the Lord. They yield so much of respect to the direc- tions of their authorized teachers, or to the impressions which have been graven on them from infancy, as to give their homage to a volume which is pre- sumed to bear so lofty a character. But then, though it may thus be on hearsay that they first receive the Bi- ble as inspired, it is not on hearsay that they continue to receive it. We speak now of those who have searched the Scriptures for everlasting life, and who feel that they have found therein a re- velation of the alone mode of forgive- ness. We speak of those in whom the word has '' wrought effectually ;" and we confidently affirm of them, that, though at one time they believed in the inspiration of the canonical Scrip- tures, because their parents taught it, or their ministers maintained it, yet now are they in possession of a per- sonal, experimental, evidence, which is thoroughly conclusive on this funda- mental point. It is not that they have gone through the laborious demonstra- tions by which the learned have sus- tained the claims of the Old and New Testaments. It is comparatively a very small fraction of a community who can examine the grounds on which the church rests her judgment ; and it is with the case of the great mass that we now wish to deal. But we will give you what we reck- on the history of the uneducated be- liever, so far as his acquaintance with revelation is concerned. He may per- haps have been neglected in boyhood, so that he has grown up in ignorance ; but he is visited by the minister of his parish in some seasons of affliction, when the ruggedness of his nature is somewhat worn down by sorrow. The minister presses upon him the study of the Bible, as of the word of his Crea- tor, assuring him that he will therein find God's will as revealed by his Spirit. The cottager has undoubtedly heard of the Bible before ; and it is no news to him, that it passes as a more than hu- man book. But he has never yet given heed to what he heard : the book has been unopened, notwithstanding the high claims which it was known to ad- vqipce. But, now, softened by the min- ister's kindness, and moved by his statements, he sets himself diligently to the perusal of Scripture, and stated- ly attends its Sabbath expositions. And thus, though he is acting only what he has heard, he brings himself under the self-evidencing power of Scripture, that power by which the contents of the Bi- ble serve as its credentials. And this self-evidencing power is wonderfully great. The more than human know- ledge which the Scripture displays in regard of the most secret workings of the heart ; the marvellous and uner- ring precision with which the provis- ions of the Gospel adapt themselves to the known wants and disabilities of our nature ; the constancy with which the promises and directions of holy writ, if put to the proof, are made good in one's own case — these and the like evidences of the divine origin of the Bible, press themselves quickly on the most illiterate student, when he search- es it in humility, hoping to find, as he has been told that he shall, a message from God which will guide him to- wards heaven. He began on the testi- mony of another ; but, after a while, he goes forward on his own testimony. And though he has not been sitting in judgment on the credentials of Chris- tianity, yet has he possessed himself of its contents ; and on these he has found so much of the impress, and from them there has issued so much of the voice of Deity, that he is as certified in his own mind, and on grounds as satisfac- tory, of the inspiration of Scripture, as any laborious and scientific inquirer, who has rifled the riches of centuries, and brought them all to do homage be- fore our holy religion. God has no more given to the learned the monopo- ly of evidence, than to the wealthy the monopoly of benevolence. The poor man can exercise benevolence, for the widow's two mites may outweigh the noble's coffers : and the poor man may have an evidence that God is in the Bible, for it may speak to his heart as no human book can. And if you contrast the man, when TESTIMONY CONFIRMED BY EXPERIENCE. 239 the minister of Christ first entered his cottage, with what he is after patient obedience to the injunctions of the church — in the one case, the mere giver of assent to a fellow-man's testi- timony ; in the other, the delighted possessor of a " witness in himself;" in the first instance, a believer not so much in the inspiration of Scripture, as in the veracity of the individual who announces it, but, in the second, a be- liever in that inspiration, because con- science and understanding and heart have all felt and confessed the super- human authorship — Oh, as, by thus contrasting and com.paring, you deter- mine, that, through simply acting on what was told him, the man has been carried forward to a personal, experi- mental, demonstration of its truth, you must admit that he may class himself with those who can say, " as we have heard, so have we seen, in the city of the Lord of Hosts.'' But the principle has been carried yet further than this, and, we think, with great justice. It must be believed of the large mass of protestants, that they have never even read the apocry- phal books, much less searched into the reasons on which these books are pronounced not inspired. Here there- fore it cannot be said, that what has heen heard is also seen in the city of God. We can prove this in regard of the Canonical Scriptures, because we can prove, that, when perused in obe- dience to what is heard, they quickly evidence their origin. But we seem unable to prove this in regard of the Apocryphal Scriptures ; for they are not used to be subjected to any such test. But suppose they were subjected to the like test, and why might we not expect the like result 1 There is to our mind something inexpressibly grand and beautiful in the thought, that God dwells, as it were, in the syllables which he has indited for the instruc- tion of humankind, so that he may be found there when diligently sought, though he do not thus inhabit any other writing. He breathed himself into the compositions of prophets, and apostles, and evangelists ; and there, as in the mystic recesses of an everlasting sanctuary, he still resides, ready to disclose himself to the hum- ble, and to be evoked by the prayerful. But in regard of every other book, however fraught it may be Avith the maxims of piety, however pregnant with momentous truths, there is no- thing of this shrining himself of Deity in the depths of its meaning. Men may be instructed by its pages, and draw from them hope and consolation. But never will they find there the burning Shekinah, which proclaims the actual presence of God ; never hear a voice, as from the solitudes of an oracle, pro- nouncing the words of immortality. And we should never fear the bring- ing any canonical book, or any apocry- phal, to the test thus supposed. Let a man take a canonical book, and let him take an apocryphal ; and let him de- termine to study both on the suppo- sition that both are divine, because doubtful whether the church be right in her decision, or desirous to gain evidence for himself. And if he be a sincere inquirer after truth, one really anxious to ascertain, in order that he may perform, the whole Avill of God, Ave know not why he should not expe- rience the accomplishment of Christ's words, " If any man will do his Avill, he shall know of the doctrine whether it be of God," and thus reach a sound decision as to which book is inspired, and which not. As he studies the in- spired book, with humility and prayer, he will find its statements brought home to his conscience and heart, with that extraordinary force Avhich is never at- tached to a human composition. He may not be able to construct a clear argument for the divine origin of the book ; yet will the correspondence be- tween vvhat the book states, and what he experiences, and the constancy with which the fulfilment of its promises follows on submission to its precepts, combine into an evidence, thoroughly satisfactory to himself, that the pages which he reads had God for their au- thor. But as he studies the non-in- spired book, he will necessarily miss these tokens and impresses of Deity. There will be none of those mysterious soundings of the voice of the ever-liv- ing God, which he has learnt to expect, and which he has ahvays heard, where- soever the writers have indeed been inspired. His own diligence may be the same, his faith, his prayerfulness. 240 TESTIMONY CONFIRMED BY EXPERIENCE. But it is impossible there should be those manifestations of superhuman wisdom, those invariable sequences of fulfilled promises on obeyed precepts, which, in the other case, attested, at each step of his progress, that the do- cument in his hands was a revelation from above. It may be said that all the argument, which he can thus obtain, must be vague and inconclusive, a thing of imagination rather than of reason, and therefore, in the largest sense, liable to error. But we rejoice, on the con- trary, in believing in the thorough suffi- ciency of the poor man's argument for the inspiration of Scripture. It is an argument to his own conscience, an argument to his own heart. It is the argument drawn from the experienced fact, that the Bible and the soul, with her multiplied feelings and powers, fit into each other, like two parts of a complicated machine, proving, in their combination, that each was separately the work of the same divine •artist. And you may think that the poor man may be mistaken ; but he feels that he cannot be mistaken. The testimony is like a testimony to his senses; if he cannot transfer it to another, it is in- contestable to himself, and therefore gives as much fixedness to the theology of the cottage as ever belonged to the theology of the academy. And if he can thus prove, from his own experience, the divine origin of the inspired book, he may of course equally prove, from his own experi- ence, the human origin of the non-in- spired. The absence of certain tokens in the one case, will be as conclusive to liim as their presence in the other. So that, we may affirm of all classes of christians, provided only they be sin- cere and prayerful in their inquiry after truth, that, if not content with the de- cision of the church, they may put to the proof what they have heard in the city of our God. Let them take the apocrypha, and let them study it on the supposition that its books are equal- ly inspired with those to which their church assigns so lofty a character. And their spirits may be stirred within them, as they read of the chivalrous deeds of the Maccabean princes, and even their tears may be drawn forth, as the Book of Wisdom pours its ele- giac poetry over those who die young. But they will not find that moral pro- bing, that direction of the heart, that profundity of meaning which makes a ^ single text like a mine from which new treasures may continually be dug, those flashes of truth which suddenly issue from what had long seemed dark say- ings. These and the like evidences that the living God is in the book will be wanting, however its pages may be printed with heroic story, or glowing with poetic fire. Even though the style and sentiment may be similar to those to which they have been used in holy writ, they will not experience the same elevation of soul as when they trust themselves to the soarings of Isaiah, the same sweepings of the chords of the heart as when they join in the hymns of David, nor the same echo of the conscience as when they listen to the remonstrances of St. Peter or St. Paul. And Avhat then is to prevent their being their own witnesses to the non-inspiration of the apocryphal, as well as to the inspiration of the canoni- cal Scriptures'? What is to prevent their bringing their own experience in confirmation of what had originally been told them by the church, and thus joining themselves to those who can say, " as we have heard, so have we seen, in the city of the Lord of Hosts]" Now the points on which we have thus touched, have been handled at arreat length, and with consummate ability, by modern writers. And we have dwelt on them, not with any idea of adding to the strength with which they have been asserted, or the clear- ness with which they have been illus- trated ; but simply in the hope of fix- ing the attention of the younger part of this audience on what is called the self-evidencing power of Scripture. With all our desire that they should be thoroughly masters of the external evi- dences of Christianity, we are unspeak- ably more anxious that they should la- bor to possess themselves of the inter- nal ; for, in searching after these, they must necessarily study the Bible itself. If they will learn to view the contents li of Scripture as themselves its creden- i^ tials, we shall engage them in the most hopeful of all studies, the study of God's word as addressing itself to the heart, and not merely to the head. For TESTIMONY CONFIRMED BY EXPERIENCE. 241 there may be an intellectual theology ; religion may be reduced into a science ', and the writers on the evidences, and the commentators on the text of the Bible, may just do for Christianity what the laborious and the learned have done for various branches of natural philoso- phy j make truths bright rather than sharp, clear to the understanding, but without hold on the affections. And this is not the Christianity which we wish to find amongst you, the Chris- tianity of the man who can defeat a sceptic, and then lose his soul. We would have you well-read — too well- read you cannot be — in what has been written in defence of the faith; but, above all, we would fasten you to the prayerful study of the sacred volume itself; this will lead you to the hearing God's voice in the Bible, and, until that is heard, the best champion of truth may be far from the kingdom of heaven. But there is yet a more obvious ap- plication of the words of our text, one which, though it may have suggested itself to your minds, is of too practical a kind to be omitted by the preacher. There is a reference in the passage to the unchangeableness of God, to the similarity of his dealings with men, when there is a similarity of circum- stance. It is said of God by Solomon, that he " requireth that which is past." He seeks again that Avhich is past, re- calling, as it were, the proceedings, whether in judgment or mercy, of de- parted ages, and repeating them to the present generation. And it is on this account that there is such value in the registered experience of the believers of other days, so that the biography of the righteous is among the best treas- ures possessed by a church. It is, in one sense at least, a vast advantage to us that we live late in the world. We have all the benefit of the spiritual ex- perience of many centuries, which has been bequeathed to us as a legacy of more worth than large wealth or far- spreading empire. We have not, there- fore, to tread a path in which we have had but few precursors. Far as the eye can reach, the road we have to traverse is crowded with beckoning forms, as though the sepulchres gave up their host of worthies, that we might be animated by the view of the victo- rious throng. And this is an advantage ' which it is hardly possible to overrate. You have only to add to this an ac- quaintance with the unchangeableness of God, and there seems all that can be needed to the encouragement and confidence of the righteous. The un- changeableness of God assures us that he will do in our own days, as he has done in earlier; the registered experi- ence of former times instructs us as to the accuracy with which he has made good the declarations of Scripture : and by combining these two, the assurance and the instruction, Ave gain a witness, which nothing should shake, that, with the Bible for our guide, we shall have peace for our present portion, unbound- ed glory for our future. There is here a new witness for the Bible, a witness accessible to the meanest, the witness of happy lives and triumphant deaths. The very pea- sant masters and rejoices in this evi- dence. The histories of good men find their way into his hamlet ; and even in the village church-yard sleep some whose righteousness will be long had in remembrance. And knowing, as he does, that those, whose bright names thus hallow the annals whether of his country or his valley, were " accepta- ble to God, and approved of men," through simply submitting themselves to the guidance of Scripture ; that they were Bible precepts which made them the example and blessing of their fel- lows, and Bible promises which nerved them for victory over sorrow and death — has he not a noble evidence on the side of Scripture, an evidence against which the taunts of scepticism are directed without effect, an evidence which augments with every piece of christian biography that comes into his possession, and with every instance of christian consistency that comes under his observation! And what he thus hears in the city of God, acts, on every account, as a stimulus to his own faith and stead- fastness. The registered experience of those who have gone before, encou- rao-es him to expect the same mercies from the same God. He kindles as he reads their story. Their memory rouses him. He asks the mantle of the ascending prophet, that he may divide with it the waters which had before owned its power. Thus what he has 31 242 TESTIMONY CONFIRMED BY EXFERIENCE. heard in the city of his God confirms his diligence and animates his hope. He takes the experience of others, and proceeds upon the supposition that it may be made liis own. And it is made his own. Through faith the same won- ders are wrought. Through prayer the same mercies are obtained. The same promises are accomplished, the same assistances communicated, the same victories achieved. And as the man re- members how his spirit glowed at the mention of noble things done on behalf of the righteous ; how the records of good men's lives soothed him, and cheered him, and excited him j how their prayers taught him to be a sup- pliant, and their praises moved him to be hopeful; how they seemed to have lived for his instruction, and died for his comfort — and then as he feels, how, through treading the same path, and trusting in the same Mediator, he has already obtained a measure, and may expect a yet larger, of the blessings wherewith they were blessed of their God — oh, his language will be that of our text ; and he will join, heart and soul, with those who are confessing, " as we have heard, so have we seen, in the city of our God." There will be a yet finer use of these words : they shall be woven into a no- bler than the noblest earthly chant. Are we deceiving men, are we mere- ly sketching ideal pictures, to whose beauty and brilliancy there is nothing correspondent in future realities, when we expatiate on the glories of heaven, and task imagination to build its pal- aces, and portray its inhabitants ] Yes, in one sense we deceive them : they are but ideal pictures which w-e draw. What human pencil can delineate scenes in which God manifests his presence 1 What human coloring emu- late the effulgence which issues from his throne 1 But we deceive them only through inability to rise sufficiently high ; we exhaust imagination, but not the thousandth part is told. They are deceived, only if they think we tell them all, if they take the pictures which we draw as perfect representa- tions of the majesty of the future. When we speak to them of the deep and permanent repose of heaven; wh en we enlarge on the manifestations of Deity ; when we declare that Christ, as "the Minister of the Sanctuary," will unfold to his church the mysteries which have perplexed them ; when we gather together what is gorgeous, and precious, and beautiful, in the visible creation, and crowd it into the im- agery wherewith we delineate the final home of the saints; when we take the sun from the firmament, that the Lord. God may shine there, and remove all temples from the city, that the Al- mighty may be its Sanctuary, and hush all human minstrelsy, that the immense tide of song may roll from thousand times ten thousand voices — we speak only the words of truth and soberness, though we have not compassed the greatness, nor depicted the loveliness, of the portion which awaits the disci- ples of Christ. If there be one passage of Scripture which we may venture to put into the lips of redeemed men in glory, it is our text; in this instance, we may be confident that the change from earth to heaven will not have made the language of the one unsuited to the other. Oh, as the shining company take the circuit of the celestial city; as they "walk about Zion, and go round about her," telling the towers thereof, marking well her bulwarks, and con- sidering her palaces; who can doubt that they say one to another, " as w^e have heard, so have we seen in the ci- ty of our Godl" We heard that here "the wicked cease from troubling," and now we behold the deep rich calm. We heard that here we should be with the Lord, and now we see him face to face. We heard that here we should know, and now the ample page of universal truth is open to our in- spection. We heard that here, with the crown on the head, and the harp in the hand, we should execute the will, and hymn the praises, of our God, and now we wear the diadem, and wake the melody. They can take to themselves the words which the dying leader Jo- shua used of the Israelites, "not one thing hath failed of all the good things which the Lord our God spake concerning us ; all are come to pass, and not one thing hath failed thereof." Shall it be said of any amongst our- selves, that they heard of heaven, but made no effort to behold it 1 Is there one who can be indifferent to the an- THE GENERAL RESURRECTION AND JUDGMENT 243 nouncement of its glories, one who can feel utterly careless whether he ever prove for himself, that there has been no deceit, no exaggeration, but that it is indeed a surpassingly fair land which is to be everlastingly the home of those who believe in the Redeemer] Everlastingly the home — for we must not overlook the concluding words of our text, " God will establish it for ever." The walls of that city shall never decay ; the lustres of that city shall never grow dim ; the melodies of that city shall never be hushed. And is it of a city such as this that any one of us can be indifferent 'whether or no he be finally an inhabitant'? We will not believe it. The old and the young, the rich and the poor, all must be ready to bind themselves by a solemn vow, that they will " seek first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness." It is not the voice of a solitary and weak fellow-man which now tells you of hea- ven. God is summoning you. Angels are summoning you. The myriads who have gone before are summoning you. 'We are surrounded by a " great cloud of witnesses." The battlements of the sky seem thronged with those who have fought the good fight of faith. They bend down from the eminence, and bid us ascend, through the one Mediator, to the same lofty dwelling. They shall not call in vain. We know their voices, as they sweep by us so- lemnly and sweetly. And we think, and we trust, that there will not be one of you who will leave the sanctu- ary without some such reflection and prayer as this — I have heard of heaven, I have been told of its splendors and of its happiness; grant, gracious and eternal Father, that I fail not at last to be associated with those who shall re- joicingly exclaim, " as we have heard, so have we seen, in the city of the Lord of Hosts." SERMON IV. THE GENERAL RESURRECTION AND JUDGMENT ' Marvel not at this ; for the hour is coming in which all that are in the e^aves shall hear his voice, and shall come forth : they that have done good unto the resun-ection of life, and they that have done evil unto the resuiTection of damnation." — St. John, 5 : 28, 29. You wilt at once perceive that these words of our Savior are not to be un- derstood without a reference to those by which they are preceded. They show that surprise was both felt and expressed at something which he had just said ; for they are a direction to his audience not to marvel, or wonder, at what he had affirmed, seeing that he had to state what was yet more aston- ishing. If you examine the context of the passage, you will find that our Lord had been speaking of the efTects which should follow upon belief of his word, and that he had used language in regard of those effects, which borrow- ed its imagery from death and a resur- rection. This surprised and displeased his hearers. They could not under- stand how the word of Christ could possess such a power as he had claim- ed ; and they perhaps even doubted whether the new creation of which he spake, the quickening of souls " dead in trespasses and sins," ever took place. It was to meet these feelings, which he perceived stirring in their minds, that Christ proceeded to address them in the words of our text. " Marvel not 244 THE GENERAL RESURRECTION AND JUDGMENT. at this." As though he had said, you are staggered at what I have declared, fancying it incredible, or, at least, far heyond my power. But I have a yet more wonderful thing of which to tell you, a thing that shall be done by myself, though requiring still greater might. You are amazed that I should speak of raising those who are morally dead ; but " marvel not at this ; for the hour is coming, in which all that are in the graves shall hear my voice." This appears to us the true account of our Lord's reasoning. The resur- rection of the body, the calling from the graves those who had long slum- bered therein, is represented as a more wonderful thing than what had just ex- cited the amazement of the Jews. And thus the passage sets, as we think, the resurrection of the body under a most imposing point of view, making it the great prodigy in God's dealings with our race. That there is nothing else to marvel at, in comparison of the re- surrection of the dead — this seems to us the assertion of Christ, and such as- sertion demands a most careful consi- deration. Of course, independently on this assertion, there is a great deal in the passage which affords material for profitable meditation, seeing that the Avhole business of the last audit is summarily, but strikingly, described. The remarkable feature, however, of the text is undoubtedly that of its mak- ing the resurrection of the body the first of all marvels ; and it is, therefore, to the illustration of this that we shall give our chief care, though not to the exclusion of the more general truths affirmed by our Lord. Now we are accustomed to think, and, doubtless, with justice, that there is an affinity between God and our souls, but nothing of the kind between God and our bodies. We do not in- deed presume to speak of the human soul, any more than of the human body, as having congeniality, or sameness of nature, with the great first cause, the self-existent Deity. But we may ven- ture to declare that all the separation which there is between the soul and the body, is an advance towards the nature of God, so that the soul, inas- much as it is spiritual, far more nearly resembles the divine Being than the body, inasmuch as it is material And when we reach this conclusion, we are at a point from which to view with great amazement the resurrection of the body. So long as a divine inter- ference is limited to the soul, we may be said to be prepared, at least in a de- gree, for whatever can be told us of its greatness and disinterestedness. We attach a dignity to the soul, which, though it could not, after there had been sin, establish any claim to the succors of God, seems to make it, if not to be expected, yet not to be won- dered at, that it was not abandoned to degradation and ruin. The soul is so much more nearly of the same nature with God than the body, that a spiri- tual resurrection appears a thousand- fold more likely than a corporeal. And you are to observe that there is nothing in the nature of the case, to make it clear to us, that, if the soul were re- deemed, so also must be the body. The ordinary current of thought and feel- ing may almost be said to be against the redemption of the body. The body is felt to be an incumbrance to the soul, hindering it in its noblest occupations, and contributing nothing to its most elevated pleasure. So far from the soul being incapable of happiness, if de- tached from the body, it is actually its union with the body, which, to all ap- pearance, detains it from happiness; so that, in its finest and loftiest musings, its exclamation often is, " O that I had wings like a dove, for then would I flee away and be at rest!" Even now the soul is often able to rise above the body, to detach itself, for a while, from mat- ter, and to soar into regions which it feels to be more its home than this earth. And when compelled to return from so splendid an excursion, there is a sentiment of regret that it must still tabernacle in flesh ; and it is conscious of longing for a day when it may finally abandon its perishable dwelling. Thus there is nothing of a felt ne- cessity for the re-union of the soul to the body, to guide us in expecting the corporeal as well as the spiritual resur- rection. We might almost affirm that the feeling is all the other way. And though, through some fine workings of reason, or, through attention to linger- ing traces of patriarchal religion, men, destitute of the light of revelation, have reached a persuasion of the soul's ira- THE GENERAL RESURRECTION AND JUDGMENT. 245 mortality, never have they formed even a conjecture of the body's resurrec- tion. They have imaged to themselves the spirit, which they felt burning and beating within them, emancipated from thraldom, and admitted into a new and eternal estate. But they have consign- ed the body to the interminable dishon- ors of the grave; and never, in the boldest imaginings, whether of their philosophy or their poetry, have they thrown life into the ashes of the sepul- chre. It is almost the voice of nature, that the soul survives death : the soul gives its own testimony, and often so impressively, that a man could as easily doubt his present as his future exist- ence. But there is no such voice put forth in regard of the body; no solemn and mysterious whisperings are heard from its resting-place, the echo of a truth which seems syllabled within us, . that bone shall come again to bone, and sinews bind them, and skin cover them, and breath stir them. And we may safely argue, that, if the immortality of the soul be an arti- cle of natural theology, but the resur- rection of the body were never even thought of by the most profound of its disciples, there can be no feeling in man that the matter, as well as the spi- rit, of which he is composed, must re- appear in another state of being, in or- der either to the possibility or the fe- licity of his existence. So that — for this is the point to which our remarks tend — we may declare of the resurrec- tion of the body, that it is altogether an unexpected fact, one which no exer- cise of reason could have led us to conjecture, and for which there is not even that natural longing which might be interpreted into an argument of its probability. It is not then when God interposes on behalf of the soul, it is when he interposes on behalf of the body, that the great cause is given for amazement. A spark, one might almost call it, of himself, an emanation from his own immortality, mighty in its powers, mysterious in its wanderings, sublime in its anticipations, we scarce- ly wonder that a spiritual thing like the soul should engage the carefulness of its Maker, and that, if it sully its brightness, and mar its strength, he should provide for its final recovery. But the body — matter, which is man's link of association with the lowest of the brutes, and which natural and re- vealed theology are alike earnest in removing to the farthest possible dis- tance from the divine nature — the bo- dy, whose members are " the instru- ments of unrighteousness," whose wants make our feebleness, whose lusts are our tempters, whose infirmi- ties our torment — that this ignoble and decaying thing should be cared for by God, who is ineffably more spiritual than spirit, so that he designs its re-ap- pearance in his own immediate pre- sence, what is comparable in its won- derfulness to this "X Prodigy of prodi- gies, that this corruptible should put on incorruption, this mortal immorta- lity. And scribes and pharisees might have listened with amazement, and even with incredulity, as the Lord our Redeemer affirmed the effects which would be wrought on the soul through the doctrines and deeds of his mission. But he had stranger things to tell ; for he had to speak of the body as well as of the soul, rising from its ru- ins, and gloriously reconstructed. Yes, observing how his hearers were surpri- sed, because he had spoken of the spi- ritually dead as quickened by his word, he might well say unto them, " marvel not at this," and give as his reason, " for the hour is coming, in which all that are in the graves shall hear my voice." Now, throughout this examination of the truth, that the resurrection of the body furnishes, in an extraordinary degree, cause of wonder and surprise, we have made no reference to the dis- play of divine power which this resur- rection must present. We have simply enlarged on what may be called the unexpectedness of the event, proving this unexpectedness from the inferior- ity of matter, its utter want of affinity to Deity, and the feelings of even man himself in regard to its detracting from his dignity and happiness. But we do not know, that, in the whole range of things effected by God, there is aught so surprising, regard being had only to the power displayed, as the resurrection of the body. If j'^ou will ponder, for a few moments, the facts of a resurrection, you will proba- bly allow that the power which must be exerted in order to the final recon- 246 THE GENERAL RESURRECTION AND JUDGMENT. struction of every man's body, is more signal than that displayed in any spi- ritual renovation, or in any of those operations which we are able to trace in the visible universe. You are just to think that this framework of flesh, in which my soul is now enclosed, will be reduced at death to the dust from which it was taken. I cannot tell where or what will be my sepulchre — whether I shall sleep in one of the quiet church- yards of my own land, or be exposed on some foreign shore, or fall a prey to the beasts of the desert, or seek a tomb in the depths of the unfathomable wa- ters. But an irreversible sentence has gone forth — " dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return" — and assured- ly, ere many years, and perhaps even ere many days have elapsed, must my " earthly house of this tabernacle be dissolved," rafter from rafter, beam from beam, and the particles, of which it has been curiously compounded, be separated from each other, and perhaps scattered to the four winds of heaven. And who will pretend to trace the wanderings of these particles, into what other substances they may en- ter, of what other bodies they may form part so as to appear and disap- pear many times in living shape before the dawn of the great Easter of the universe 1 There is manifestly the most thorough possibility, that the elements of which my body is composed, may have belonged to the bone and flesh of successive generations ; and that, when I shall have passed away and be forgot- ten, they will be again wrought into the structure of animated beings. And when you think that my body, at the resurrection, must have at least so much of its original matter, as shall be necessary for the preservation of identity, for the making me know and feel myself the very same being who sinned, and sufi^ered, and was disciplin- ed on earth, you must allow that no- thing short of infinite knowledge and power could prevail to the watching, and disentangling, and keeping duly separate, whatever is to be again build- ed into a habitation for my spirit, so that it may be brought together from the four ends of the earth, detached from other creatures, or extracted from other substances. This would be in- deed a wonderful thing, if it were true of none but myself, if it were only in my solitary case that a certain portion of matter had thus to be watched, kept distinct though mingled, and appro- priated to myself whilst belonging to others. But try to suppose the same holding good of every human being, of Adam, and each member of his count- less posterity, and see whether the resurrection will not utterly confound and overburden the mind. To every in- dividual in the interminable throng shall his own body be given, a body so lite- rally his own, that it shall be made up, to at least a certain extent, of the mat- ter which composed it whilst he dwelt on this eartji. And yet this matter may have passed through innumerable chan- ges. It may have circulated through, the living tribes of many generations; or it may have been waving in the trees of the forest ; or it may have floated on the wide waters of the deep. But there has been an eye upon it in all its appro- priations, and in all its transformations ; so that, just as though it had been in- delibly stamped, from the first, with the name of the human being to whom it should finally belong, it has been uner- ringly reserved for the great day of re- surrection. Thus myriads upon myri- ads of atoms — for you may count up till imagination is wearied, and then reckon that you have but one unit of the still inapproachable sum — myriads upon myriads of atoms, the dust of kingdoms, the ashes of all that have lived, are perpetually jostled, and min- gled, and separated, and animated, and swept away, and reproduced, and, ne- vertheless, not a solitary particle but holds itself ready, at the sound of the last trump, to combine itself with a multitude of others, in a human body in which they once met perhaps a thou- sand years before. We frankly own that this appears to us among the most inscrutable of won- ders. That God should have produced countless worlds, and that he should marshal all their motions, as they walk the immensity of his empire — it is an amazing contemplation ; and the mind cannot compass the greatness of a pow- er which had only to speak and it was done, and which hath ever since up- held its own magnificent creation, in all the grandeur of its structures, and in all the harmony of its relations. But, THE GENERAL RESURRECTION AND JUDGMENT. 247 with all its majesty, there is a simpli- city in the mechanism of systems and constellations; every star has its place and its orbit ; and we see no traces of a complication, or confusion, which might render necessary unwearied and intinite watchfulness, in order to the preventing universal disorder. And it is again a surprising truth, that the Spirit of God should act on the human soul ; that, secretly and silently, it should renovate 'its decayed powers, refine its afTections, and awaken the dormant immortality. Yet even here we may speak of simplicity — each soul, like each star, has its own sphere of motion ; each is distinct from each ; and none has ever to be dissolved, and mingled, like the body, with the ele- ments of a million others. It still then remains a kind of marvel amongst marvels, that there hath not died the man who shall not live again, live again in that identical body which his spirit abandoned when summoned back to God. And upon this account, upon account of the apparently vaster power displayed in a resurrection, may Ave suppose that Christ bade his hear- ers withhold their amazement at what he had advanced. Yes, and we feel that he might have spoken of every other portion of God's dealings with our race, and, without deprecating the wonder- fulness of other things, have declared, at each step, that he had stranger truths in store. He might have spoken of cre- ation ; and, whilst an audience were confounded at the story of animate and inanimate things starting suddenly into being, he might have added, " marvel not at this." He might have spoken, as he did speak, of a spiritual regenera- tion pervading large masses of the fa- mily of man ; and, whilst those who heard him were looking surprised and incredulous, he might have added, as he did add, '* marvel not at this." For he had to speak of a rifling of the se- pulchres, of the re-animating the dust of buried generations. And this was to speak of earth, and sea, and air, resolv- ing themselves suddenlj?^ into the flesh and sinew of human-kind. This was to speak of countless particles, some from the east and others from the west, these from the north, and .those from the south, moved by mysterious impulse, and combining into the limbs of patri- archs, and prophets, and priests, and kings, and people. This was to speak of the re-appearance of every human being that ever m.oved on the face of the earth — the old man who sunk be- neath the burden of years, and the young man who perished in his prime, and the infant who just opened his eyes on a sinful and sad world, and then closed them as though terrified — all re- produced, though all had been disper- sed like chaff before the hurricane, all receiving their original elements, though those elements had been the play-things of the winds, and the fuel for the flames, and the foam upon the waters. And if this w^ere indeed the speaking of a general resurrection, oh, then our Lord might have already been affirming what was wonderful; but, whatsoever that had been, he might have gone on to repress the astonish- ment of his hearers, saying unto them, " marvel not at this," and giving as his reason, " for the hour is coming,, in which all that are in the graves shall hear my voice." Now we have probably advanced enough in explanation of what perhaps at first seems hardly to have been ex- pected, namely, that our Lord should represent other wonders, even that of the spiritually passing from death unto life, as not to be wondered at, in com- parison with the resurrection of the body. We proceed, therefore, to the examining what Christ asserts in re- gard of those sublime transactions which will be associated with this sur- passingly strange event. " The hour is coming." More than eighteen hundred years have elapsed, since he who spake as " never man spake," and who could utter nothing but truth, made this assertion, an asser- tion which implied that the hour was at hand. But the dead are yet in their graves ; no vivifying voice has been heard in ,the sepulchres. We know however that " a thousand years are with the Lord as one day, and one day as a thousand years." We count it not therefore strange that the predicted hour, the hour so full of mystery and might, has not yet arrived. But it must come ; it may not perhaps be distant ; and there may be some of us, for aught we can tell, who shall be alive on the earth when the voice issues forth, the 248 THB GENERAL RESURRECTION AND JCTDGMENT, voice which shall be echoed from the sea, and the city, and the mountain, and the desert, all creation hearkening, and all that hath ever lived simultane- ously responding. But whether we be of the quick or of the dead, on the morning of the resurrection, we must hear the voice, and join ourselves to the swarming throng which presses forward to judgment. And whose is the voice that is thus irresistible, which is heard even in the graves of the earth, and in the caverns of the deep, and which is heard only to be obeyed 1 Know ye not that voice 1 Ye have heard it before. It is the voice which said, " Come unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest." It is the voice which pray- ed on behalf of murderers, '' Father, forgive them, they know not what they do." It is the voice which said, " It is finished," pronouncing the completion of the work of human redemption. Yes, ye have heard that voice before. Ye have heard it in the ministrations of the Gospel. It hath called to you, it hath pleaded with you. And those who have listened to it in life, and who have obeyed it when it summoned them to take up the cross, to them it will be a mighty comfort, that, in the voice which is shaking the universe, and wakening the dead, they recognize the tones of Him who could be " touched with a feeling of their infirmities." For it is, we think, one of the most beautiful of the arrangements which characterize the Gospel, that the offi- ces of Redeemer and Judge meet in the same person, and that person divine. We call it a beautiful arrangement, be- cause securing for us tenderness as well as equity, the sympathies of a friend, as well as the disinterestedness of a most righteous arbiter. Had the judge been only man, the imperfection of his nature would have made us ex- pect much of error in, his verdicts. Had he been only God, the distance between him and us would have made us fear it impossible, that, in determin- ing our lot, he would take into account our feebleness and trials. But in the person of Christ there is that marvel- lous combination which we seek in the Judge of the whole human race. He is God, and, therefore, must he know ev- ery particular of character. But he is also man, and, therefore, can he put himself into the position of those who are brought to his bar. And because the Judge is thus the Mediator, the judgment-seat can be approached with confidence and gladness. The believer in Christ, who hearkened to the sug- gestions of God's Spirit, and brake away from the trammels of sin, shall know the Son of man, as he comes down in the magnificent sternness of celestial authority. And we say not that it shall be altogether without dread or apprehension, that the righteous, starting from the sleep of death, shall hear the deepening roll of the archan- gel's summons, and behold the terrific pomp of heavenly judicature. But we are certain that they will be assured and comforted, as they gaze upon their Judge, and recognize their surety. Words such as these will occur to them, " God hath appointed a day in the which he will judge the world in righteousness by that man whom he hath ordained." " By that man." The man who "hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows." The man who uttered the pathetic words, " Jerusa- lem, Jerusalem, how often would I have gathered thy children together." The man who was " delivered for our offences, and raised again for our justi- fication." The man who sat in weari- ness by the well of Samaria ; the man who wept in anguish at the grave of Lazarus ; the man who compassion- ated the weakness of his slumbering disciples ; the man whose " sweat was as it were great drops of blood," and who submitted to be scourged, and buf- feted, and crucified, "for us men, and for our salvation." Yes, this is the very being who is to gather the nations be- fore him, and determine the everlast- ing condition of each individual. And though we dare not attempt to define the motions of those most assured of deliverance, when standing, in their re- surrection-bodies, on the earth, as it heaves with strange convulsions, and looking on a firmament lined with ten thousand times ten thousand angels, and beholding a throne of fire and cloud, such as was never piled for mortal sov- ereignty, and hearing sounds of which even imagination cannot catch the echo — yet is it enough to assure us that they will be full of hope and of glad- THE GENERAL RESURRECTION AND JUDGMENT. 249 ness, to tell us that he who will speak to them is he who once died for them — Oh, there will be peace to the righteous, when " the heavens shall be rolled together as a scroll," if it be Christ who saith, " the hour is coming, in which all that are in the graves shall hear my voice." But with what feelings will those hear the voice, of whom the Savior may affirm, " I have called, and ye re- fused ; ye have set at nought all my counsel, and would none of my re- proof 1" They too shall know the voice ; and it shall be to them as the voice of despised mercy, the voice of slighted love. They shall be more startled, and more pierced, and more lacerated, by that voice, than if it had never before been heard, or if its tones were not remembered. The sound of that voice will at once waken the me- mory of warnings that have been neg- lected, invitations refused, privileges unimproved. It will be painfully elo- quent of all that was vainly done to wiii them to repentance, and therefore terribly reproachful, ominous of a doom which it is now too late to avert. They would have more hope, they would be less beaten down by a consciousness that they were about to enter on ever- lasting misery, if a strange voice had summoned them from the tomb, a voice that had never spoken tenderly and plaintively, never uttered the ear- nest beseechings, the touching entrea- ties of a friend, a brother, a Redeemer. Any voice rather than this voice. None could be so dirge-like, so full of con- demnation, so burdened with maledic- tion, as that which had often said, " Turn ye, turn ye, for why will ye die ?" But this is the voice ; and when this voice is heard, " all that are in the graves shall come forth." And under how many divisions shall the swarm- ing myriads be arranged ] They have had very different opportunities and means, and you might have expected them to be separated into great variety of classes. But we read of only one division, of only two classes. " They that have done good unto the resurrec- tion of life, and they that have done evil unto the resurrection of damna- tion." There is not, you observe, any thing intermediate. All rise, so that there is no annihilation ; all rise, either to be unspeakably happy, or unspeaka- bly miserable, for there are but two re- surrections. We may indeed be sure that both heaven and hell will present recompenses suited to all varieties of character, and that in the allotments of both there will be a graduated scale. But let it never, on this account, be supposed that there may be a happi- ness so imperfect, and a misery so in- considerable, that there shall be but little final difference between some who are acquitted, and others who are condemned. "Between us and you there is a great gulf fixed." The last admitted, and the first excluded, ne- ver let us think that these two classes approach so nearly to equality, that it may be comparatively unimportant with which we ranked. Heaven cannot dwindle away into hell, and hell can- not be softened away into heaven. Happiness or misery — one or other of these must be the portion of every man ; and whilst we freely confess that happiness and misery may admit of al- most countless degrees, and that thus there may be room for vast variety of retributions, we contend that between the two there must be an untravelled separation : the happiness, or the mi- sery of one may be unspeakably less than that of another ; but the least happy, and the least miserable, who shall tell us how much space there is between these for the agony and re- morse of a storm-tossed spirit 1 Observe then that it must be either of a "resurrection of life," or of a "re- surrection of damnation," that each amongst us will be finally partaker. And it is to depend on our works, which of the two shall be our resur- rection. " They that have done good," and " they that have done evil," are our Lord's descriptions of the respec- tive classes. Works are given as the alone criterion by which we shall be judged. And this interferes not with the great doctrine of justification by faith, because good works spring from faith, and are both its fruits and its evidence ; whilst, by making words the test, a ground is afforded for the judgment of those to whom Christ has not been preached, as well as of those who have been invited to the believing on his name. The whole human family 32 250 THE GENERAL RESURRECTION AND JUDGMENT. J may be brought to the same bar, see- ing that the only thing to be decided, isj whether they have done good, or whether they have done evil. And what say you to all this 1 If we could escape the judgment, or if we could bribe the judge ; if we had the bone of iron, and the sinew of brass, and the flesh of marble, so that we might defy the fire and the worm, why then we might eat and drink, and amass gold, and gratify lust. But the judgment is not to be escaped — the very dead are to hear the voice, and who then can hide himself? And the Judge is not to be bribed ; it is the eternal God himself, whose are the worlds, and all which they contain. And we are sensitive beings, beings with vast capacities for wretchedness, presenting unnumbered inlets to a ministry of vengeance — shall we then, in spite of all this, persist in neglecting the great salvation 1 We address ourselves now especial- ly to our younger brethren, desiring to conclude the discourses of the monjh with a word of exhortation to those on whom " the dew of their youth " is still freshly resting. We have set be- fore you the resurrection of life, and the resurrection of damnation ; and we now tell you that you have your fate in your own keeping, and that there is no election but his own through which any one of you can perish. We speak to you as free, accountable beings, each of whom is so circumstanced and assisted that he may, if he will, gain heaven through the merits of Christ. The question therefore is, whether you will act as candidates for eternity, or live as those who know nothing of the great end of their creation. Born for immortality, destined to equality with angels, and entreated to *' work out your salvation with fear and trembling," will ye degrade yourselves to the level of the brute, and lose those souls for which Christ died 1 It is a question which each must answer for himself. Each is free to obey, or flee, youthful lusts, to study, or neglect, God's word, to live without prayer, or to be earnest in supplication. There is no compul- sion on any one of you to be vicious ; and, be well assured, there will be no compulsion on any one of you to be virtuous. Passions may be strong j but not too strong to be resisted through that grace which is given to all who seek it, but forced upon none who de- spise it. Temptations may be power- ful ; they are never irresistible; he who struggles shall be made victo- rious; but God delivers none who are not striving to deliver themselves. Be watchful, therefore — watchful against sins of the flesh, watchful against sins of the mind. Against sins of the flesh — sensuality so debases antl enervates, that the soul, as though se- pulchred in the body, can do nothing towards vindicating her origin. '' Unto the pure all things are pure; but unto them that are defiled and unbelieving is nothing pure, but even their mind and conscience is defiled." Against sins of the mind — take heed that ye do not so admire and extol reason, as to think lightly of revelation. Ye live in days when mind is on the stretch, and in scenes where there is every thing to call it out. And we do not wish to make you less acute, less in- quiring, less intelligent, than the warm- est admirers of reason can desire you to become. We only wish you to re- member that arrogance is not great- ness, and that conceit is the index, not of strength, but of weakness. To ex- alt reason beyond its due place is to abase it ; to set the human in rivalry with the divine is to make it contemp- tible. Let reason count the stars, weigh the mountains, fathom the depths — the employment becomes her, and the suc- cess is glorious. But when the ques- tion is, " how shall a man be just with God," reason must be silent, revela- tion must speak; and he who will not hear it assimilates himself to the first Deist, Cain; he may not kill a brother, he certainly destroys himself. And that you may be aided in over- coming sin, let your thoughts dwell often on that '' strict and solemn ac- count which you must one day give at the judgment-seat of Christ." I have endeavored to speak to you of the ge- neral resurrection and the last great assize. To the large mass of you it is not probable that 1 shall ever speak again. But we shall meet, when the sheeted dead are stirring, and the ele- ments are dissolving. And " knowing the terror of the Lord, we persuade men." Would that we could persuade THE ANCHOR OF THE SOUL. 251 you. Is there no voice from the " great white throne ;" nothing startling in the opened books; no eloquence in the trumpet of the archangel ; nothing ter- rible in the doom, " depart, ye cursed," nothing beautiful in the words, " come, ye blessed V I cannot plead with you, if insensible to the sublime and thrill- ing oratory of the judgment scene. If you can go away, and be as dissipated as ever, and as indifferent as ever, now that ye have beheld the Son of man coming in the clouds, and heard, as it were, your own names in the shrill summons to his bar — what can I say to you ] Indeed I feel that there are no more formidable weapons in the moral armory ; and I can but pray — for there is yet room for prayer — that God would put sensibility into the stone, and give you feeling enough to feel for your- selves. SERMON THE ANCHOR OF THE SOUL- "' Which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast, and which entereth into that within tlie veil." — Hebrews, 6 ; 19. It is a very peculiar and interesting cause which I have this day undertaken to plead — that of the Floating Church, which offers the means of grace to our river population, to the most useful, and well nigh the most neglected of our countrymen — those who are carrying on our commerce, who have fought our battles, and who are ready, if peace be disturbed, to fight them agfain with equal valor, and, through God s help, with equal success. If there be a call to which the hearts of Englishmen more naturally respond than to any other, it must be that which demands succor for sailors. As a nation we seem to have less fellowship with the land than the sea ; and our strongest sym- pathies are with those who plough its surface, and dare its perils. I feel, therefore, that I never had a charity- sermon to preach, whose subject gave nie so powerful a hold on the feelings of a congregation ; and I think that this hold will not be lessened, if I en- I gage your attention with a passage of I Scripture, in which the imagery, if I may use the expression, is peculiarly maritime, whilst the truths which are inculcated are of the most interesting kind. The apostle Paul had just been speaking of '' laying hold on the hope set before us," by which he seems to denote the appropriation of those va- rious blessings which have all been procured for us by Christ, The hope is that of eternal life ; and to lay hold on this hope, must be so to believe upon Christ, that we have share in those suf- ferings and merits which have pur- chased forgiveness and immortality for the lost. And when the apostle pro- ceeds, in the words of our text, to de- scribe this hope as an anchor of the soul, we are to understand him as de- claring that the expectation of God's favor, and of the glories of heaven, through the atonement and intercession of Christ, is exactly calculated to keep us steadfast and unmoved amid all the tempests of our earthly estate. We shall assume, then, as we are fullj'' war- ranted by the context in doing, that the hope in question is the hope of sal- 252 THE ANCHOR OF THE SOUL. vation, through the finished work of the Mediator. And it will be our chief bu- siness to engage you with the meta- phorical description which the apostle gives of this hope, and thus aptly to in- troduce the peculiar claims of the Float- ing Church. St. Paul likens this hope to an anchor ; and then declares of this anchor, or the hope, that it " entereth into that within the veil." Let these be our topics of discourse : The first, that the christian's hope is as an anchor to his soul. The second, that this hope, or this anchor, '^ entereth into that within the veil." I. Now the idea which is immediate- ly suggested by this metaphor of the anchor is that of our being exposed to great moral peril, tossed on rough wa- ters, and in danger of making shipwreck of our faith. And we must be well a- ware, if at all acquainted with ourselves and our circumstances, that such idea is in every respect accurate, and that the imagery of a tempest-tossed ship, girt about by the rock and the quick- sand, as well as beaten by the hurri- cane, gives no exaggerated picture of the believer in Christ, as opposition, under various forms, labors at his ruin. We are not, indeed, concerned at pre- sent with delineating the progress, but only the steadfastness of the christian ; but here, also, the ocean, with its waves and its navies, furnishes the aptest of figures. If there be any principle, or set of principles, which keeps the chris- tian firm and immovable amid the trials and tempests, which, like billows and winds, beat on him furiously, it is evi- dent that we may fairly liken that prin- ciple, or that set of principles, to the anchor, which holds the ship fast, whilst the elements are raging, and enables her to ride out in safety the storm. And all, therefore, that is necessary, in order to the vindicating the metaphor of our text is, the showing that the hope of which St. Paul speaks is just calculated for the giving the christian this fixedness, and thus preventing his being driven on the rock, or drawn in- to the whirlpool. There are several, and all simple modes, in which it may be shown that such is the property of this hope. We first observe, that there is great risk of Our being carried about, as an apostle expresses it, " with every wind of doc- trine ;" and whatever, therefore, tends to the keeping us in the right faith, in spite of gusts of error, must deserve to be characterized as an anchor of the soul. But, we may unhesitatingly de- clare, that there is a power, the very strongest, in the hope of salvation through Christ, of enabling us to stand firm against the incursions of heresy. The man who has this hope will have no ear for doctrines which, in the least degree, depreciate the person or work of the Mediator. You take away from i him all that he holds most precious, if I you could once shake his belief in the | atonement. It is not that he is afraid of . examining the grounds of his own con-' fidence ; it is, that, having well exam- ined them, and certified himself as to their being irreversible, his confidence has become wound up, as it were, with his being; and it is like assaulting his existence, to assault his hope. The hope pre-supposes faith in the Savior; and faith has reasons for the persuasion that Jesus is God's Son, and '' able to save to the uttermost :" and though the individual is ready enough to probe these reasons, and to bring them to any fitting criterion, it is evident, that where faith has once taken possession, and generated hope, he has so direct and overwhelming an interest in hold- ing fast truth, that it must be more than a precious objection, or a well-turned cavil, which will prevail to the loosen- ing of his grasp. And therefore do we affirm of the hope of salvation, that he who has it, is little likely to be carried about with every wind of doctrine. We scarcely dare think that those who are christians only in profession and theo- ry, would retain truth without waver- ing, if exposed to the machinations of insidious reasoners. They do not feel their everlasting portion so dependent on the doctrine of redemption through the blood and righteousness of a Sure- ty, that, to shake this doctrine, is to make them castaways for eternity; and therefore, neither can they oppose that resistance to assault which will be of- fered by others who know that it is their immortality they are called to sur- render. You may look, then, on an indi- vidual, who, apparently unprepared for a vigorous defence of his creed, is yet not to be overborne by the strongest THE ANCHOR OF THE SOUL. 253 onset of heresy. And you may think to account for his firmness by resolv- ing it into a kind of obstinacy, which makes him inaccessible to argument ; and thus take from his constancy all moral excellence, by representing it as imperviousness to all moral attack. But we have a better explanation to pro- pose j one which does not proceed on the unwarranted assumption, that there must be insensibility where there has not been defeat. We know of the indi- vidual, that he has fled for refuge to lay hold on the hope set before him in the Gospel. And you may say of hope, that it is a shadowy and airy thing, not adapted to the keeping man firm ; but we assert, on the contrary, of the hope of salvation, that he who has grasped it, feels that he has grasped what is substantial and indestructible; and that henceforward, to wrench away this hope would be like wrenching away the rafter from the drowning man, who knows that, if he loosen his hold, he must perish in the waters. Ay, the hope is too precious to be tamely sur- rendered. It has animated him too much, and cheered him too much, and sustained him too much, to be given up otherwise than inch by inch — every fraction of the truths on which it rests being disputed for, with that vehemence of purpose which proves the conscious- ness that with defeat can come nothing but despair. And therefore is it that so little way is made by the teacher of in- fidelity and error. He is striving to pre- i vail on the individual he attacks, to i throw away, as worthless, a treasure j which he would not change for what- I soever earth can proffer of the rich and ! the glorious; and where is the marvel, j if he find himself resisted with the de- > termination of one who wrestles for his I ain You may liken, then, the believer I in Christ to a vessel launched on trou- ; bled waters, and you may consider scepticism and false doctrine as the storms which threaten him with ship- , wreck. And when you express surprise I that a bark, which seems so frail, and ' so poorly equipped against the tem- pest, should ride out the hurricane, whilst others, a thousand times better furnished with all the resources of in- tellectual seamanship, drive from their moorings, and perish on the quicksand ; we have only to tell you, that it is not by the strength of reason, and not through the might of mental energy, that moral shipwreck is avoided ; but! that a hope of salvation will keep the/ vessel firm when all the cables whicl man weaves for himself have givei way like tow ; and that thus, in th< wildest of the storms which evil me and evil angels can raise, this hope will verify the apostle's description, that it is an anchor of the soul, and that, too, sure and steadfast. But there are other respects in which it may be equally shown, that there is a direct tendency in christian hope to the promoting christian steadfastness. We observe, next, that a believer in Christ is in as much danger of being moved by the trials with which he meets, as by attacks upon his faith. But he has a growing consciousness that "all things work together for good," and therefore an increasing sub- missivenessin the season of tribulation, or an ever-strengthening adherence to God, as to a father. And that which contributes, perhaps more than aught besides, to the producing this adhe- rence, is the hope on which the chris- tian lays hold. If you study the lan- guage of David when in trouble, you will find that it was hope by which he was sustained. He describes himself in terms which accurately correspond to the imagery of our text. "Deep call- eth unto deep at the noise of thy wa- terspouts ; all thy waves and thy bil- lows are gone over me." But Avhen the tempest was thus at its height, and every thing seemed to conspire to overwhelm and destroj^ him, he could yet say, " Why art thou cast down, O my soul ! and why art thou disquieted within me 1 Hope thou in God ; for I shall yet praise Him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God." It is hope, you observe, to which he turns, as the principle through which the soul might best brave the hurricane. And can we wonder that a hope, such as that of the believer in Christ, should so contribute to the steadfastness of its possessor, that the winds may bufl^et him, and the floods beat against him, and yet he remains firm, like the well- anchored vessel 1 He knew that, in throwing in his l6t with the followers of Jesus, he was consenting to a life of stern moral discipline, and that he / 254 THE ANCHOR OF THE SOUL. must be prepared for a more than or- dinary share of those chastisements from which nature recoils. And why, forewarned as he thus was of what would be met with in a christian course, did he adventure on the profession of a religion that was to multiply his trou- bles ■? Why embarked he on an ocean, swept by fiercer winds, and arched with darker skies, when he might have sha- ped his voyage over less agitated wa- iters 1 We need not tell you, that he ^has heard of a bright land, which is [only to be reached by launching forth on the boisterous sea. We need not tell you, that he assured himself, upon evidence which admits no dispute, that there is no safety for a vessel freighted with immortality, unless she be tem- pest-tossed 5 and that, though there may be a smoother expanse, dotted with islands which seem clad with a richer verdure, and sparkling with a sunshine which is more cheering to the senses of the mariner, yet that it is on the lake, thus sleeping in its beauty, that the ship is in most peril ; and that if the lake be changed for the wild broad ocean, then only will a home be reached where no storm rages, and no clouds darken, but where, in one unbroken tranquillity, those who have braved the moral tempest will repose eternally in the light of God's counte- nance.! It is hope, then, by which the christian was animated, when taking his resolve to breast the fury of every adversary, and embrace areligion which told him that in the world he should have tribulation. And when the tribu- lation comes, and the crested Avaves are swelling higher and higher, why should you expect him to be driven back, or swallowed up'? ^Is it the loss of property with which he is visited, and which threatens to shake his de- pendance upon God 1 Hope whispers that he has in heaven an enduring substance ; and he takes joyfully the spoiling of his goods. Is it the loss of friends? He sorrows not ''even as others which have no hope," but is comforted by the knowledge, that " them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him." Is it sickness — is it the treachery of friends— is it the failure of cherished plans, which hangs the firmament with blackness, and works the waters into fury 1 None of these things move him ; for hope assures him that his " light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for him a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." Is it death, which, advancing in its awfulness, would beat down his confidence, and snap his cordage, and send him adrift 1. 1 His hope is a hope full of iramorta-j lity : he knows "in whom he hath be- lieved, and is persuaded that he.is| able to keep that which he hath com- mitted unto him against that day." And thus, from whatever point the tempest rages, there is a power in that hope which God hath implanted, of holding fast the christian, and pre- venting his casting away that confi- dence which hath great recompense of reward. We can bid you look upon him, when, on every human calcula- tion, so fierce is the hurricane, and so wrought are the waves into madness, there would seem no likelihood of his avoiding the making shipwreck of his faith. And when you find, that, in place of being stranded or engulfed, he re- sists the wild onset, and, if he do not for the moment advance, keeps the way he has made, oh ! then we have an easy answer to give to inquiries as to the causes of this unexpected steadfastness. We do not deny the strength of the storm, and the might of the Avaters ; but we tell you of a hope which grows stronger and stron- ger as tribulation increases : stronger, because sorrow is the known disci- pline for the enjoyment of the object 1 of this hope ; stronger, because the | proved worthlessness of what is earth- ly serves to fix the affections more firmly on what is heavenly 5 stronger, j inasmuch as there are promises of God, i which seem composed on purpose for the season of trouble, and which, then grasped by faith, throw new vigor into hope. And certainly, if Ave may affirm all this of the hope of a christian, there is no room for Avonder that he rides out the hurricane ; for such hope is manifestly an anchor of the soul, and that, too, sure and steadfast. We go on to observe, that the chris- tian is exposed to great varieties of temptation : the passions of an evil na- ture, and the enticements of a "world Avhich lieth in Avickedness," conspire to draw him aside from righteousness, THE ANCHOR OF THE SOUL. 255 and force him back to the habits and scenes which he has professedly aban- doned. The danger of spiritual ship- wreck would be comparatively small, if the sea on which he voyages were swept by no storms but those of sor- row and persecution. The risk is far greater, when he is assaulted by the solicitations of his own lusts, and the corrupt affections of his nature are plied with their correspondent objects. And though it too often happens that he is overcome by temptation, we are sure, that, if he kept hope in exercise, he would not be moved by the plead- ings of the flesh and the world. Let hope be in vigor, and the christian's mind is fixed on a portion which he can neither measure by his imagina- tion, nor be deprived of by his ene- ' mies. He is already in a city which hath no need of the sun, neither of the moon ; whose walls are of jasper, and whose streets of gold. Already he joins the general assembly and church of the first-born — already is he the equal of angels — already is he advanc- ing with a shining company, which no man can number, towards the throne of God and of the Lamb, and beholding face to face the Creator and Redeemer, and bursting into an ecstasy of adora- tion, as the magnificence of Deity is more and more developed. And now, if, at a time such as this, — when it may almost be said that he has entered the haven, that he breathes the fragrance, and gazes on the loveliness, and shares the delights of the Paradise of God, — he be solicited to the indulgence of a lust, the sacrifice of a principle, or the pursuit of a bauble, — can you think the likelihood to be great that he will be mastered by the temptation, that he will return, at the summons of some low passion, from his splendid excur- sion, and defile himself with the impu- rities of earth 1 Oh! we can be confi- dent — and the truth is so evident as not to need proof — that, in proportion ll as a man is anticipating the pleasures \ of eternity, he will be firm in his re- ( solve of abstaining from the pleasures ' of sin. We can be confident, that if [ hope, the hope set before us in the I Gospel, be earnestly clung to, there will be no room in the grasp for the ' glittering toys with which Satan would ' bribe us to throw away our eternity. And therefore, — to bring the matter again under the figure of our text, — we can declare of hope, that it minis- ters to christian steadfastness, Avhen the temptations of the world, the flesh, and the devil, combine to produce waver- ing and inconstancy. Again we liken the christian to a ship, and the tempta- tions by which he is met to a tempest, which threatens to drive him back, and cast him a wreck upon the shore. And it would avail nothing that he was fur- nished with the anchors, if such they may be called, of a philosophic love of virtue, of a feeling that vice is degrad- ing to man, and of a general opinion that God may possibly approve self- denial. If these held the ship at first, they would quickly give way, when the storm of evil passion grew towards its height. But hope — the hope of a heaven into which shall enter nothing that defileth; the hope of joys as pure as they are lofty, and as spiritual as they are abiding ; the hope of what the eye hath not seen, and the ear hath not heard, but Avhich can be neither at- tained nor enjoyed without holiness — this hope, we say, is a christian's sheet- anchor in the hurricane of temptation ; and if he use this hope, in his endea- vors to bear up against the elements, he shall, by God's help, weather the worst moral storm ; and then, when the sky is again .bright, and the mighty billows have subsided, and the vessel again spreads her canvass, oh ! he shall gratefully and rejoicingly confess of this hope, that it is an anchor of the soul, and that, too, sure and steadfast. IL Now, throughout these illustra- tions we have rather assumed than proved that christian hope is of a na- ture widely different from that of any other. But it will be easily seen that we have claimed for it nothing beyond the truth, if we examine, in the second place, the apostle's statement in regard of a christian's hope, that it " entereth into that within the veil." The allu- sion is undoubtedly to the veil, or cur- tain, which separated the holy place from the holy of holies in the temple at Jerusalem. By the holy of holies was typified the scene of God's imme- diate presence, into which Christ en- tered when the days of his humiliation were ended. And hence we understand by the hope, or the anchor, entering 256 THK ANCHOR OF THE SOTJL. within the veil, that, in believing upon Jesus, we fasten ourselves, as it were, to the realities of the invisible world. This throws new and great light on the simile of our text. It appears that the christian, whilst tossing on a tempes- tuous sea, is fast bound to another scene of being; and that, whilst the vessel is on the waters of time, the an- chor is on the rock of eternity. And it is not possible that the soul should find safe anchorage without the veil. Con- scious as she is, and often forced to al- low scope to the consciousness, that she is not to perish with the body, she may strive, indeed, to attach herself firmly to terrestrial things 5 but an overgrown restlessness will prove that she has cast her anchor Avhere it can- not gain a hold. If we were merely intellectual beings, and not also im- mortal, the case might be different. There might be an anchor of the mind, which entered not into that within the veil, of strength enough, and tenacity enough, to produce steadfastness amid the fluctuations of life. But immortal as we are, as well as intellectual, the anchor of the soul must be dropped in the waters of the boundless hereafter. And when, after vain efforts to pre- serve herself from wreck and disquie- tude, by fixing her hope on things which perish with the using, she is taught of God to make I^eaven and its glories the object of expectation, then it is as though she had let down her anchor to the very base of the ever- lasting hills, and a mighty hold is gain- ed, and the worst tempest may be de- fied. The soul which is thus anchored in eternity, is like the vessel which a stanch cable binds to the distant shore and which gradually warps itself into harbor. There is at once what will keep her steadfast in the storm, and ad- vance her towards the haven. Who knows not that the dissatisfaction which men always experience whilst engaged in the pursuit of earthly good, arises mainly from a vast dispropor- tion between their capacities for hap- piness, and that material of happiness with which they think to fill them'? What they hope for is some good, re- specting which they might be certain, that, if attained, it will only disappoint. And therefore is it, that in place of being as an anchor, hope itself agitates them, driving them hither and thither, like ships without ballast. But it is not thus with a hope Avhich entereth with- in the veil. Within the veil are laid 1 up joys and possessions which are more > than commensurate with men's capa- cities for happiness, when stretched toi the utmost. Within the veil is a glory, i such as was never proposed by ambi- tion in its most daring flight ; and a wealth, such as never passed before avarice in its most golden dreams; and delights, such as imagination, when employed in delineating the most ex- quisite pleasures, hath never been able to array. And let hope fasten on this glory, this wealth, these delights, and . presently the soul, as though she felt that the objects of desire were as am- ple as herself, acquires a fixedness of purpose, a steadiness of aim, a com- ' bination of energies, which contrast strangely with the inconstancy, the va- cillation, the distraction, which have made her hitherto the sport of every wind and every wave. The object of hope being immeasurable, inexhausti- ble, hope clings to this object with a tenacity which it cannot manifest when grasping only the insignificant and un- substantial ; and thus the soul is bound, we might almost say indissolubly, to the unchangeable realities of the inhe- ritance of the saints. And can you marvel, if, with her anchor thus drop- ped within the veil, she is not to be driven from her course by the wildest of the storms which yet rage without % Besides, within the veil is an Interces- sor, whose pleadings insure that these objects of hope shall be finally attain- ed. There is something exquisitely^ beautiful in the idea, that the anchor has not been dropped in the rough wa- ters which the christian has to navi- gate. The anchor rests where there is one eternal calm, and its hold is on a rock, which no action of the waves can^ wear down. You may say of christian hope, that it is a principle which gives fixedness to the soul, because it can ap- peal to an ever-living, ever-prevalent Intercessor, who is pledged to make good its amplest expectations. It is the hope of joys which have been pur- chased at a cost which it is not possi- ble to compute, and which are deli- vered into a guardianship which it is not^possible to defeat. It is the hope THE ANCHOR OF THE SOUL. 257 of an inheritance, our title to which has been written in the blood of the Mediator, and our entrance into which that Mediator ever lives to secure. And therefore is it that we affirm of christian hope, that it is precisely adapted to the preventing the soul from being borne away by the gusts of temptation, or swallowed up in the deep waters of trial. It is more than hope. It is hope with all its attrac- tiveness, and \vith none of its uncer- tainty. It is hope with all that beauty and brilliancy by which men are fasci- nated, and with none of that delusive- ness by which thej?^ are deceived. It is hope, withjits bland and soothing voice, but that voice whispering nothing but truth ; hope, with its untired wing, but that wing lifting only to regions which have actual existence ; hope, with its fairy pencil, but that pencil painting only what really flashes with the gold and vermilion. Oh, if hope be fixed upon Christ, that Rock of Ages, — a rock rent, if we may use the expression, on purpose that there might be a holding-place for the anchors of a perishing world — it may well come to pass that hope gives the soul stead- fastness. I know that within the veil there ever reigneth one who obtained right, by his agony and passion, to rear eternal mansions for those who believe upon his name. I know that within the veil there are not only pleasures and possessions adequate to the capacities of my nature, when advanced to full manhood, but a friend, a surety, an ad- vocate, who cannot be prevailed with, even by unworthiness, to refuse me a share in what he died to procure, and lives to bestow. And therefore, if I fix my hope within the veil ; within the veil, where are the alone delights that can satisfy; within the veil, where is Christ, whose intercession can never be in vain, — hope will be such as is neither to be diverted by passing at- tractions, nor daunted by apprehensions of failure : it will, consequently, keep me firm alike amid the storm of evil passions, and the inrush of Satan's sug- gestions ; it will enable me equally to withstand the current which would hurry me into disobedience, and the eddies which would sink me into des- pondency. And, oh, then, is it not with justice that I declare of hope, that " it is an anchor of the soul both sure and steadfast ;" and that I give as the reason, that " it entereth into that within the veil !" And now we may safely ask, whe- ther, if you know any thing practically of the worth of christian hope, you can be indifferent to the condition of thousands around you, who have no such anchor of the soul 1 If you are anchored within the veil, can you look on with unconcern, whilst many a no- ble bark, on the right hand and on the left, freighted with immortality, is drifting to and fro, the sport of every wind, and in danger, each instant, of being wrecked for eternity 1 We are sure that christian privileges are of so generous and communicative a natute, that no man can possess, and not wish to impart them. And if there be a class of individuals who, on all ac- counts, have a more than common claim on the sympathy of christians, because more than commonly exposed to moral tempests and dangers, may ] we not select sailors as that class, — / men whose business is in great wa- \ ters, Avho from boyhood have been at home on the sea, whether in storm or ) in calm ; but whose opportunities of i christian instruction are, for the most i part, wretchedly small ; and who learn to steer to every harbor except that | which lieth within the veil 1 The reli- gious public have much to answer for on account of the neglect — of course we speak comparatively — which they have manifested towards sailors. Very little has even yet been done towards ameliorating their moral condition.\ So soon as the sailor returns to port, after having been long tossed on dis-' tant seas, he is surrounded by mis-> creants, who seek to entice him to scenes of the worst profligacy, that they may possess j themselves of his hard-earned gains. And christian phi- lanthropy has been very slow in step- ping in and ofiering an asylum to the sailor, where he may be secure against the villany which would ruin body and soul. Christian philanthropy has been very slow in taking measures for pro- viding, that, when he returned from his wanderings — probably to find many in the grave who had sent anxious thoughts after him as he ploughed the great deep, and who had vainly hoped 33 25S THE ANCHOR OF THE SOUL. to welcome him back — he should have the Gospel preached to him, and the ministers of Christianity to counsel, and admonish, and encourage him. It is vain to say, that our churches have been open, and that the sailor, as well as the landsman, might enter, and hear the glad tidings of redemption. You are to remember, that for months, and perhaps even years, the sailor has been debarred from the means of grace ; he has been in strange climes, where he has seen nothing but idolatry; even the forms of religion have been altogether kept from him ; and now he requires to be sought out, and entreated; and unless in some peculiar mode'you bring the Gospel to him, the likelihood is the very smallest of his seeking it for himself. But we thank God that of late years attempts have been made, so far as the port of this great city is concerned, to provide christian instruc- tion for sailors. There is now a Float- ing Church in our river : a vessel, which had been built for the battle, and which walked the waters to pour its thunders on the enemies of our land, has, through the kindness of go- vernment, been converted into a place of worship ; and a flag waves from it, telling the mariner that, on the element which he has made his own, he may learn how to cast anchor for eternity; and the minister of this church moves about among the swarming ships, as he would move through his parish, en- deavoring by the use of all the engines by which God has intrusted his ambas- sadors, to arrest vice, and gain a hold for religion amongst the wild and wea- ther-beaten crews. And it is in support of this church that we now ask your contributions. His Majesty the King, by the liberal annual subscription of j£50, shows how warm an interest he takes in the cause, and recommends it to the succor of his subjects. The ex- emplary bishop, moreover, of this dio- cese — whom may a gracious God soon restore to full health — is deeply inter- ested on behalf of this church. But you cannot need to be told of the great and the noble who support this cause ; it asks not the recommendation of ti- tled patronage ; you are Englishmen, and the church is for sailors. Yes, the church is for sailors; men who have bled for us, men who fetch for us all the productions of the earth, men who carry out to every land the Bibles we translate, and the missionaries we equip : the church is for sailors ; and yet though the annual expenditure is only between three and four hundred pounds, the stated annual income — 1 am almost ashamed to say it — is only a hundred and fifty. I am persuaded, that to mention this will suffice to pro- cure a very liberal collection. I cannot bring myself to attempt the working on your feelings. When I plead the. cause of sailors, it seems to me as though the hurricane and the battle, the ocean with its crested billows, and war with its magnificently stern re- tinue, met and mingled to give force to the appeal. It seems as though stranded navies, the thousands who have gone down with the waves for their winding-sheet, and who await in unfathomable caverns the shrill trum- pet-peal of the archangel, rose to ad- monish us of the vast debt we owe those brave fellows who are continu- ally jeoparding their lives in our ser- vice. And then there comes also be- fore me the imagery of a mother, who has parted, with many tears and ma- ny forebodings, from her sailor-boy ; whose thoughts have accompanied him as none but those of a mother can, in his long wanderings over the deep, and who would rejoice, with all a mother's gladness, to know that where his mor- al danp-er was greatest, there was a church to receive him, and a mmister to counsel him. But we shall not en- large on such topics. We only throw out hints, believing that this is enough to waken thoughts in your minds, which will not allow of your content- ing yourselves with such contributions as are the ordinary produce of charity- sermons. The great glory of Englapd, and her great defence, have long lain, under the blessing of God, in what we emphatically call her wooden walls. And if we could make vital Christianity general amongst our sailors, we should have done more tlian can be calculated towards giving permanence to our na- tional greatness, and bringing onward the destruction of heathenism. We say advisedly, the destruction of heathen- ism. The influence is not to be com- puted which English sailors now exert for evil all over the globe. They are THE DIVINE PATIENCE EXHAUSTED, &c. 259 scattered all over the globe ; but too often, thougrh far from always, unhap- pily, their dissoluteness brings discre- dit on the christian religion, and pa- gans learn to ridicule the faith which seems prolific of nothing but vice. Our grand labor therefore should be to teach our sailors to cast anchor within the veil ; and then in all their voya- ges would they serve as missionaries, and not a ship would leave our coasts which was not freighted with preach- ers of redemption 5 and wheresoever the British flag flies, and that is where- soever the sea beats, would the stand- ard of the cross be displayed. Ay, man our wooden walls with men who have taken christian hope as the anchor of the soul; and these walls shall be as ramparts which no enemies can over- throw, and as batteries for the demoli- tion of the strongholds of Satan. Then, — and may God hasten the time, and may you now prove your desire for its coming — then will the navy of England be every where irresistible, because every where voyaging in the strength and service of the Lord; and the noble words of poetry shall be true in a higher sense than could ever yet be affirmed: " Britannia needs no bulwark, " No towers along the steep ; " Her march is on the mountain-wave, " Her home is on the deep !" SERMON. THE DIVINE PATIENCE EXHAUSTED THROUGH THE MAKING VOID THE LAW. " It is time for thee, Lord, to work : for they have made void thy law. Therefore I love thy command- ments above gold; yea, above fine gold." — Psalm 119 : 126, 127. There is no property of the divine nature which demands more, whether of our admiration or of our gratitude, than long-suffering. That the Lord is slow to anger" — there is more in this to excite both wonder and praise, than in those other truths with which it is associated by the prophet Nahum. " The Lord is slow to anger, and great j in power, and will not at all acquit the f wicked : the Lord hath his way in the whirlwind and in the storm, and the clouds are the dust of his feet." We have often told you that the long-suf- fering of God is wonderful, because it i indicates the putting constraint on his own attributes; it is omnipotence ex- erted over the Omnipotent himself. So far as our own interests are con- cerned, you will readily admit that we are extraordinarily indebted to the Di- vine forbearance. Those of us who are now walking the path of life, where would they have been, had not God borne long with them, refusing, as it were, to be wearied out by their per- versity 1 Those who are yet "stran- gers from the covenant of promise," to what but the patience of their Maker is it o\ying, that they have not been cut down as cumberers of the ground, but still stand within the possibilities of forgiveness and acceptance! But it is a melancholy thing that we are com- pelled to add, that there is a great ten- dency in all of us to the abusing God's long-suffering, and to the so presuming on his forbearance as to continue in sin. We may be sure that a vast out- ward reformation would be wrought on the world, if there were a sudden change in God's dealings, so that pun- 260 THE DIVINE PATIENCE EXHAUSTED ishment followed instantaneously on crime. It" the Alntiighty were to mark out certain offences, the perpetration of which he would immediately visit with death, there can be no doubt that these offences would be shunned with the greatest carefulness, and that too by the very men whom no exhortations, and no warnings, can now deter from their commission. Yet it is not that punishment is one jot less certain now than it would be on the supposed change of arrangement. The only difference is, that, in one case, God displays long- suffering, and that in the other he would not display long-suffering — the certain- ty that punishment will follow crime is quite the same in both. And thus, un- happily, sin is less avoided than it would be if we lived under an economy of immediate retribution; and "because sentence against an evil work is not executed speedily, therefore the heart of the sons of men is fully set in them to do evil." In place of being softened by the patience of which we have so long been the objects, we are apt to be encouraged by it to further resistance ; calculating that he who has so often forborne to strike, will spare a little longer, and that we may with safety yet defer to repent. It is, therefore, of great importance that men be taught that there are lim- its even to the forbearance of God, and that it is possible so to presume on it as to exhaust. And this is evidently what the Psalmist inculcates in the first of those verses on which we would discourse. He seems to mark the times in which he lived as times of extraor- dinary depravity, when men had thrown off the restraints of religion. "They have made void thy law." They have reduced the divine precepts to a dead letter, and refuse to receive them as a rule of life. The expression manifest- ly denotes that a more than common contempt was put on the command- ments of God, and that men had reach- ed a rare point of insolence and diso- bedience. And it is further manifest, that, when wickedness was thus at its height, David expected that there would be an end of the forbearance of God, and that he would at length give scope to his righteous indignation. "It is time for thee, Lord, to work : for they have made void thy law." As much as to say, men have now exceeded the bounds prescribed to long-suffering; they have outrun the limits of grace ; and now, therefore, God must inter- fere, vindicate his own honor, and re- press the swellings of unrighteousness. This, then, is the first truth present- ed by our text, — that it is possible to go so far in disobedience that it will be necessary for God to interpose in vengeance, and visibly withstand men's impiety. But what effect will be pro- duced on a truly righteous man by this extraordinary prevalence of iniquity? Will he be carried away by the cur- rent of evil % Will he be tempted, by the universal scorn which he sees thrown on God's law, to think slight- ingly of it himself, and give it less of his reverence and attachment ] On the contrary, this law becomes more pre- cious in David's sight, in proportion as he felt that it was so despised and set aside, that the time for God to work had arrived. You observe that the verses are connected by the word " therefore." " They have made void thy law." What then 1 is that law less esteemed and less prized by myself? Quite the reverse ; " they have made void thy law; therefore I love thy com- mandments above gold, yea, above fine gold." There is much that deserves our closest attention in this connection between the verses. It is a high point of holiness which that man has reach- ed, whose love of God's commandments grows with the contempt which all around him put on these command- ments. This, then, is the second tiruth presented by our text, — that there is greater reason than ever for our prizing God's law, if the times should be those in which that law is made void. So that there are two great principles which must successively engage our attention in meditating on the words which form our subject of address. The first is, that there is a point in hu- man iniquity at which it is necessary that God should interfere ; the second, that, when this point is reached, the righteous are more than ever bound to prize and love the law of the Lord. It will be our endeavor to set these prin- ciples clearly before you, and to exam- ine them in their several bearings and results. Now, in one of those visions which THROUGH THE MAKIKG VOID THE LAW. 261 God vouchsafed to the patriarch Abra- ham, the land of Canaan was promised to his posterity, but a distant time fix- ed for th'cir taking possession. The reason given why centuries must elapse ere they could enter on the inheritance, is every way remarkable. " In the fourth generation they shall come hith- er again ; for the iniquity of the Amo- rites is not full." We may understand the Amorites to be put here generally for the inhabitants of Canaan, whose iniquities were gradually bringing on their expulsion arid extermination. And though even these inhabitants might have been conspicuous in idolatry and impiety, they had not, it appears, yet reached that measure of guiltiness which Avas to mark them out for ven- geance. " The iniquity of the Amo- rites," saith God, " is not yet full ; and, therefore, I cannot yet give command for their destruction, — nay, it will not be until the fourth generation that I can dispossess them to make room for my people." It is evident, from this instance, that in the exercise of his long-suffering, God allows nations a certain period of probation, but that there is a point up to which, if they accumulate iniquity, they can expect nothing but an outbreak of indignation and punishment. It was not yet time for God to work, inasmuch as the Amorites, though disobedient to his law, had not yet gone the length of making it void. But that time Avould arrive. The Amorites would advance from one degree of sinfulness to ano- ther, and the children would but add to the burden of misdoing entailed on them by profligate fathers. Then Avould be the time for God to work ; and then would the Almighty arise in his fury, and prove, by the vehemence of his dealings, that though slow to anger, he will not finally acquit the wicked. We need not remind you how fearfully this truth was exemplified in the instance of the Amorites. The terrible judgments at length inflicted through the instru- mentality of the Israelites are known to all, and show clearly that punish- ment is not the less sure because long delayed. You have the same truth depicted in the case of the Jews. You find Christ, in one of these tremendous de- nunciations, which are the more awful, because found on the lips of him, who, " when he was reviled, reviled not a- gain," declaring that the blood of all the prophets which had been shed from the foundation of the world, should be required of the nation he addressed. The representation is here the same as in the instance of the Amorites. The Jews had been long borne with j and God, though often provoked by their impieties to inflict lesser punishments, had not yet gone the length of casting them off as a nation. But their wicked- ness was not forgotten nor overlooked, because yet unvisited with the extreme of indignation. Each century of pro- fligacy had only treasured up wrath ; and Christ bids the abandoned of his own day fill up the measure of their fa- thers, that it might at last be time for God to work. And when the time came, and the iniquity was full, then it appeared that it is a tremendous thing to have worn out divine patience ; for wrath fell so signally and so fiercely on the Jews, that their miseries ex- ceeded those which their ancestors had dealt to the Amorites. These instances — and it were easy to adduce more — sufficiently prove that God keeps what we may call a reckon- ing with nations, and that there is a sum total of guilt — though it be out of our power to define the amount — which he allows not to be passed ; but which, when reached, draws down upon the land the long-deferred vengeance. We say that it is out of our power to de- fine the amount, for we know not pre- cisely that point in iniquity at which it may be said that God's law is made void. But it is comparatively unim- portant that we ascertain the exact amount of guilt Avhich becomes such a mill-stone round the neck of a people, that they are dragged into the depths of disaster and wretchedness. It is sufficient to know that God takes ac- count of what is done on the earth, and that he charges on one generation the crimes of a preceding. It is enough for all practical purposes, that we can prove there are limits to the forbear- ance of the Almighty; and that conse- quently it is either ignorance or in- sanity which would count on impunity, because there is delay. We say that this is enough ; for this should make every true lover of his country eager 262 THE DIVINE PATIENCE EXHAUSTED to diminish the sum-total of national guiltiness. It matters nothing whether we can tell, in any given instance, by how many fractions the sum is yet be- low that amount at which it must be met by commensurate vengeance. The grand thing is, that we ascertain a principle in the Divine dealings, the principle that there is a register kept of the impieties of a land, and that, too, with the unerring accuracy of the Om- niscient ; and that though, as the figures go on rapidly accumulating, God may bear with the land, and ply it with calls to repentance and overtures of forgive- ness, yet when those figures present a certain array, they serve as a signal to the ministry of wrath, and mark that there are no sands left in the glass of Divine patience. And when we have determined this principle, how clear, how imperative, the duty of laboring to strike off some figures, and thus to gain further respite for a country whose re- gister may be fast approaching the fa- tal amount. We know of a land for which God hath done more than for any other on which the sun shines, as he makes the circuit of the globe. It is a land which hath been marvellously preserved from the incursions of ene- mies ; and whose valleys, whilst the rest of the earth was turned into one vast battle-plain, never echoed with the toc- sin of war. It is a land which, though inconsiderable in itself, has been raised to a greatness unequalled among na- tions, whose fame is on every shore, whose fleets on every sea, and whose resources have seemed so to grow with the demand, that every trial has but developed the unsuspected strength. And it is little that this land, by prow- ess in arms, and wisdom in debate, has won itself a name of the mightiest re- nown, subdued kingdoms, planted colo- nies, and gathered into its harbors the commerce of the world. We know yet greater things of this land. We know that Christianity, in all its purity, is publicly taught as the religion of the land; that in its churches is proclaim- ed the life-giving doctrine of the '' one Mediator between God and man ;" and that its civil institutions have all that beauty, and all that expansivenes, which nothing but the Gospel of Christ was ever yet able to produce or preserve. But we have our fears — oh, more than our fears, — regard of this land, that,- whilst it has thus been the recipient of unrivalled mercies, whilst Providence has watched over it, and shielded it, and poured upon it all that was choicest in the treasure-house of heaven, there have been an ingratitude, and a con- tempt of the Benefactor, and a grow- ing distaste for religion, and a pride, and a covetousness, and a luxury, which have written many and large figures in the register which God keeps of na- tions ; so that, though the land is still borne with, yea, abundantly blessed, it has made vast approaches towards that fulness of iniquity which the Amo- rite reached, and which the Israelites reached, but reached only to perish. God forbid that we should say of the land to which we have referred, what- ever its sins, that as yet it hath made void the law of its Maker. We hope that there is yet such vigor in its piety as will give fixedness to what is vener- able and precious in its institutions. But we are sure that with the purity of its Christianity must stand or fall the majesty of its empire. We are sure that it is, as the home of protestantism, the centre of truth ; that God hath honored and upheld the land of which we speak ; and that the rapid way of multiplying the figures, which may al- ready be portentous in its account,' would be the surrendering its protes- tantism, and the giving, in any way, countenance to popery. Oh, if it could ever come to pass, that, acting on the principle of a short-sighted policy, the rulers of the land in question should restore his lost ascendancy to the man of sin, and take under the care and pro- tection of the state that religion which prophecy has unequivocally denounced, and in writing against which a pious ancestry met death in its most terrible shapes ; then, indeed, may we think, the measure of the guilt would be full ; then, in the national apostacy might be read the advance of national ruin — yea then, we believe — the protest of a wit- ness for truth being no longer given — r there would be heard a voice, issuing from the graves of martyrs and confes- sors with which the land is covered, and from the souls which St. John saw beneath the altar when the fifth seal was opened, '^ that were slain for the word of God, and for the testimony THROUGH THE MAKING VOID THE LAW. 263 which they held ;" and these would be the words which the voice would ut- ter : " It is time for thee, Lord, to work : for they have made void thy law." But we do not suppose that these words should be interpreted with refe- rence only to that point in national guilt at which God is moved to inter- fere in vengeance. Vengeance is one way in Avhich God works ; but it is a way of which we may declare, that it is forced upon God, and not resorted to without the greatest reluctance. We find these expressions in the prophe- cies of Isaiah: "The Lord shall rise up as in Mount Perazim, he shall be wroth as in the valley of Gibeon, that he may do his work, his strange work, and bring to pass his act, his strange act." You observe, the work of wrath is a strange work, and the act of pun- ishment is a strange act. God strikes, but the striking might almost be decla- red foreign to his nature ; it is neces- sary for the vindication of his attri- butes, but can hardly be said to be congenial with them. There is much in this to encourage the penitent, but not the presumptuous. God may be loth to punish, but nevertheless he will pun- ish; and I am only impressed with a greater sense of the tremendousness of divine wrath, when I find that the bringing it into act is an effort even to the Omnipotent. How weighty must that be which God himself has diffi- culty in raising ! There are, however, other ways in which God works, when moved by the i making void of his law. It is curious ' and interesting to observe how God, from the first, has been mindful of what , passes on the earth, and how he has in- I terposed just when a crisis has demand- ed the interposition. When our first j parents fell, his law was emphatically made void ; and then there appearing no alternative to the destruction of our race, it was time for God to work ; the exigence could be met by nothing but a divine interference, and God gra- ciously worked as a deliverer. And afterwards the notices of traditional re- ligion were soon so obscured and weak- ened, that there was danger of all re- membrance of its Maker perishing from the globe. The law was so made void, and wickedness had I'feached such a height, that it Avas time for God to work in vengeance ; and accordingly he brought a flood upon the earth, and swept away thousands of the ungodly. But whilst working in vengeance, he worked also in mercy, and, saving Noah and his family, provided that the world should be re-peopled, and that there should be myriads -for his Son to re- deem. And then, if he had left the earth to itself, it would have been quickly overspread with idolatry, and all flesh have become qorrupt as it was before the flood. But here again it was time for God to work, and he set apart one family for himself, and through its in- strumentality preserved mankind from total degeneracy, until the period of the incarnatioj;! arrived. It may be af- firmed also, that this period was one at which the necessity for divine inter- ference had become strongly marked. We learn from St. Paul, that, '' after that, in the wisdom of God, the world by wisdom knew not God, it pleased God, by the foolishness of preaching, to save them that believe." So that it appears that, through successive cen- turies of heathenism, there had been carried on an experiment, not for the satisfaction of God, who knows the end from the beginning, but for the conviction of men who are prone to magnify their powers; and that the ob- ject of this experiment had been the ascertaining whether, by its own wis- dom, the Avorld could acquire a sound knowledge of its Maker. And the apos- tle declares that, when Christ came, the experiment had been fully made, and that its result was completely against the boasted strength of reason. So that here again it was time for God to work. Reason had proved itself quite incompetent to the producing right notions of God, and therefore a just estimate of his law; and now, then, the law being altogether made void, it was time for God to work through a new revelation of himself. And cer- tainly you can have little difficulty in determining for yourselves, that, in re- gard of the christian church, God has acted on the principle laid down in our text. How often has he allowed mat- ters to come, as it were, to an extre- mity, in order that there might be a clear need of his interference, and then has he arisen mightily to the succor of 264 THE DIVINE PATIENCE EXHADSTED the perishing. In earlier days he per- mitted persecution to make great havoc with the church, so that Satan seemed often on the point of effecting the ex- tirpation of Christianity. But it was soon found that a season of depression ushered in one of triumph, and that the church was brought low, that she might be more signally exalted. And when we survey Christianity, in its first strug- gles with heathenism, reduced often to so languid a condition that there seem- ed nothing to be looked for but its to- tal extinction, and then suddenly rising in greater brilliancy and purity, we can only say that God thereby proved that he reserves his gracious interpositions for exigencies when their necessity cannot be denied, and that he acts on the principle, that, when men make void his law, then it is time for him to work. Neither is there any cause for sur- prise that such should be a principle in the divine dispensations. You must own that when, on all human calcula- tions, the case is desperate, the inter- ference of God will be more distinctly recognized, and the likelihood is less of his being robbed of the honor due unto his name. Hence it might be ex- pected that God would choose those times for interposition at which it was most evident that no power but a di- vine could suffice, in order to counter- act that proneness, of which the best must be conscious, to ascribe to se- cond causes what should be referred only to the first. We may add to this, that, in the hour of the church's de- pression and danger, there will be more fervent prayer on her behalf from the yet faithful remnant ; and we know that God delights to answer the earnest supplications of his people. And it is under this point of view that our text should encourage us, as much as it alarms others. We have shown you that there is an amount of guilti- ness, defined by the making void of God's law, which provokes the Al- mighty to come forth as an avenger. But we now show you that it is not only as an avenger, but equally as a protector, that God appears in days Avhen his law is made void upon earth. These are days when the righteous will be stirred by the aboundings of iniquity to greater diligence in prayer j and God has promised that he will "avenge his own elect which cry day" and night unto him, though he bear long with them." You see, then, what your duty is, if your lot be cast in times when there seems danger that truth will be overborne by falsehood. Our text instructs you as to the form into which to shape your petitions. We have spoken already of a land over which, as the depository of the pure religion of Christ, has been spread for long years the shield of divine fa- vor. We have spoken of the desperate jeopardy in which that land would be placed, if its legislature should so ab- jure the principles of protestantism as to give countenance and support to the Roman apostacy. It would be time for God to work in indignation and vengeance, if a people, whom he hath marvellously delivered from the bon- dage of popery, and whom he strength- ened to throw off a yoke which had kept down their immortality, should give vigor, by any national act, to the corrupt faith of Rome, and thus reani- mate the tyranny which waits but a touch, and it will start again into des- potism. But we know what would be the business of all the righteous in that land, if they saw signs of the approach of such peril. We know that it would not become them to sit in calm expec- tation of the ruin, comforting them- selves with the belief that God would shelter his own people in the day of indignation. It would be their business to recall the memory of former deliv- erances, and to bear in mind how God has always chosen extremities when there seemed least hope that ruin would be averted, for the manifesta- tions of his care over his church. It would be their business to remember, and to act on the remembrance, that the time for God, in every sense, to work, is the time at which men are making void his law. And we have a confidence in " the eflectual fervent prayer of a righteous man," which for- bids our despairing of any land, within whose confines are yet found the be- lieving and prayerful. If the presence of ten righteous would have turned away the fire and brimstone from the guilty cities of the plain, we shall not reckon the doom of any country sealed, so long as we know that it is not des- TIIKOUUH THE MAKING VOID THE LAW. 265 titute of the leaven of godliness, but that there are among its inhabitants who view, in a season of clanger, a season when they may go, with special confi- dence, to the mercy-seat, and plead, "It is time for thee, Lord, to work." The hearts of statesmen are in the hands of God, and the passions of the turbulent and disaffected are under his governance, and the designs of the ene- mies of his church are all subject to his over-ruling providence ; and prayer moves the arm which marshals stars, and calms the great deep, and directs the motions of disordered wills. Why, then, should we despair for a land, un- less assured that patriotism has be- come dissociated from righteousness, and that they, whose privilege it is to have access to the Father through the Mediator, Christ, and to whom the pro- mise has been made by the Savior, " Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, he will give it you," have so far turned traitors as to remember not their country in their petitions ] If, indeed, in the land of which we have spoken, a protestant government were so to sacrifice every principle which enters into its constitution, as to make provision for the propagation of papal falsehood and delusion, we might justly fear that the time for intercession had passed, and that God must hearken to the voice pealing forth from the sepul- chres of martyred thousands, and from the souls beneath the altar, telling him the time was come for him to work as an avenger. But so long, at least, as the land held fast its protestantism, and there was only the threatening of its being surrendered, we should feel that a vast responsibility was laid upon the men of prayer, and upon the women of prayer, throughout that land. Ay, and we should hope that the days of its happiness and its greatness were not numbered, and that measures, fraught with its desolation, because involving the compromise of its Chris- tianity, would never be permitted to be enacted and enforced, if we knew that these men and these women were urgent in the business of supplication, and that from beneath every roof Avhich gave shelter to God-fearing individuals, in the city, in the village, on the moun- tain, in the valley, was issuing the cry, " It is time for thee, Lord, to work as a Protector, for they are making void thy law." Now we are so pressed by the re- mainder of our great subject of dis- course, that we are compelled to pass by much on which we wish to enlarge. It is evident that the portion of our text, on which we have hitherto spo- ken, admits of an individual, as well as a national, application. We might speak to you of limits to the divine forbearance, when any one nmongst ourselves is regarded as the object of its exerciser and show you, conse- quently, the madness of our presuming on long-sufTering, as though it could not be exhausted. We might enlarge also ou the personal encouragement which the text gives to those who put trust in God 5 inasmuch as we perceive that the being brought into circumstan- ces of unusual danger and distress, in place of causing despondency, should give occasion for greater hope, the hour of special tribulation being ordi- narily chosen by God as the hour of his choicest manifestations. We must, however, refer these con- siderations to your private meditations, though it will be evident to those who trace carefully the connection of the several parts of our discourse, that they enter, in a degree, into what has yet to be advanced. The second great truth presented by our text, and which we have now to examine, is that, when the point in ini- quity is reached at which God's inter- ference becomes necessary, the righ- teous are more than ever bound to prize and love the law of the Lord. We derive this truth, as we have be- fore said, from the connection between the verses. When David has declared that it is time for God to work, since the law was made void, 'he adds, "There- fore I love thy commandments above gold, yea, above fine gold," — clearlj'- implying, that the contempt put on God's law was an additional motive to his giving that law his esteem and af- fection. And it is of great importance we determine on what principles David proceeded in making this decision, or what reasons were on his side when he valued the commandments, because made void by others. It cannot be de- nied, as we have already intimated, that it is a high point in holiness which 3i 266 THE DIVINE PATIENCE EXHAUSTED the Psalmist is hereby proved to have reached. We must own, in respect of ourselves, that we find it hard to con- fess Christ, and declare ourselves his followers, in the face of a vehement and growing opposition. la sketching the characteristics and occurrences which should mark the ap- proach of the second advent, the Sa- vior uttered this prediction. "And be- cause iniquity shall abound, the love of many shall wax cold." He knew what a paralyzing and deadening influence would be exerted over piety by multi- plied wickedness, and how sickly and dwarfish, for the most part, would Christianity become, when the soil and the atmosphere were saturated with unrighteousness. And the event has but too faithfully borne out the predic- tion. It is at all times diflicult to hold fast the christian profession. But the difficulty is a hundred-fold augmented, when it must be held fast with few or none to keep us in countenance, and when to dare to be religious is to dare the opposition of a neighborhood. And it is but too possible that much of the Christianity which passes muster in our own day, and w'ins itself a reputation for soundness and stanchness, is in- debted for its very existence to the absence of persecution ; and that, if there came days in which God's law was made void, and the church was sifted by fiery trial, a great proportion of what appears genuine and steadfast would prove its hollowness by defec- tion, in place of being strengthened and confirmed by opposition. But however this be, we may declare of the truly religious, that they have increased cause for prizing and adher- ing to God's law, if the days in which they live be days in which iniquity is more than ordinarily prevalent. It is too obvious, in the first place, to be overlooked, that, in days such as these, there is the very finest opportunity of giving honor to God. To love his com- mandments above gold, whilst others count them but dross, is to display a noble zeal for his glory, and to appear as the champions of his cause, when that cause is on the point of being uni- versally deserted. The promise more- over runs, "Them that honor n:e, I will honor;" and the season, therefore, in which the greatest honor may be given to God, is that also in which I the most of future glory may be se-j cured by the righteous. What then, the Psalmist seems to ask — would you have me less fervent in attachment to | God's law, because the making void of I that law has rendered it a time for God to world What, shall I choose that moment for turning traitor when God Avill be most glorified, and myself most advantaged, by loyalty? What, relax in devotedness, just when, by main- taining my allegiance, I may bear the noblest testimony, and gain the high- est recompensed Oh, where the heart has been given to God, and fixed on the glories of heaven, there should be a feeling that days, in which religion is most decried and derided, are days in which zeal should be warmest, and pro- fession most unflinching. To adhere boldly to the cause of righteousness, when almost solitary in adherence, is to fight the battle when champions are most needed, and when therefore vic- tory will be most triumphant. Let then, saith the Psalmist, the times be times of universal defection from godliness — I will gather warmth from the cold- ness of others, courage from their cowardice, loyalty from their treason. Indeed, as I gaze on what is passing around me, I cannot but observe that thy law, O God, is made void, and that it is therefore time for thee to work. But I am not on this account shaken in attachment to thy service. On the con- trary, thy law seems to me more pre- cious than ever, for in now keeping thy commandments I can give thee greater glory, and find greater reward. What then 1 it may be that they have made void thy law; but from my heart I can say, " Therefore, on that very account, I love thy commandments above gold, yea, above fine gold." It may be said, however, that though we thus give a reason why David should have been more earnest in holding fast his profession, we scarcely touch the point why the commandments them- selves should have been more precious in his sight. But it is not difficult to explain the connection between the verses, even if it be simply the love of God's law which we suppose increas- ed by the prevalence of impiety. We know, beyond all peradventure, that the only remedy for the multiplied dis- THROUGH THE MAKING VOID THE LAW. 267 orders of this creation is to be found in conformity to the revealed will of God. We are sure, whatever schemes may be deviled for the amelioration of human condition, that the happiness of a people is closely bound up with its righteousness, and that the greater the departure from God the greater the misery introduced into its families. It is no unwarranted assertion, but one which will stand every test to which it can fairly be brought, that the de- cline of a nation's prosperity keeps pace with the decline of its piety, and that in banishing true religion you ban- ish the chief elements of its greatness and security. And what is the condition of a land, when its inhabitants have literally made void God's lawl The experiment was tried in the heart of civilized Europe ; and we all know what fearful scenes were enacted on the stage of revolu- tionized France, when atheism was the onlj'^ creed which the nation would pro- fess. We have no instance in history of a people throwing equal scorn on their Creator, and neither have we any of a people being plunged in equal depths of misery. There was then giv- en a demonstration, never to be forgot- ten, that to throve off' the restraints of religion is to proclaim the carnival of anarchy and bloodshed ; and that the getting quit of the fear of God is the surest mode of undermining govern- ment, invading the rights of property, and turning a civilized people into a horde of barbarians and assassins. But if such be the consequences of making void God's law, what effect will be wrought upon the few by whom that law is yet reverenced and prized 1 Cer- t tainly, not that they will love the law ; less, but rather that they will love it more. If I saw thousands writhing in I incurable agony, and could trace the Itremendous disease to the gradual dis- use, and, at length, final rejection of a ■medicine, beyond all doubt that medi- jcine would appear to me more precious ilhan ever; and it would be from the i throwing away of this medicine that I ibest learnt its value. In like manner, lif I can see that the making void God's [law is the most effectual mode of cov- icring a land with wretchedness, un- questionably it is in the being made void that this law displays its claims to my attachment. And if, therefore, we lived in times when a mighty infidelity was pervading our cities and our vil- lages, and men were advancing by ra- pid strides towards an open contempt, or denial of God ; the divine law, if we had ever learnt to prize it, would com- mend itself increasingly to our affec- tions, as impiety went onward to its consummation. We should more and more recognize the power of this law to confer happiness, because we should more and more observe how the despi- sing it produced misery. We should more and more perceive in it an en- gine for counteracting human degen- eracy, because there would be, on all sides, the material of conviction, that, in setting it aside, men sank to the low- est level of degradation. We should more and more regard it as the best boon which God had conferred on this creation, because we should increas- ingly discover that it could only be re- moved by substituting a fearful curse in its stead. And would not then this law appear more deserving than ever of our veneration and attachment! If we ever before prized it above gold, should we not now prize it above fine gold 1 There are two ways in which the commandments of God prove equal- ly their excellence — by the blessed re- sults which follow on obedience, and by the tremendous results which fol- low on disobedience. The former are to be seen when the law is observed, the latter when that law is made void. But since, in each case, the same truth is exhibited — that of the power of the law to confer happiness — in each case, the same reason is given why the law should be increasingly the object of our love. We will take a simple instance, and gather from it the principle on which we now insist. A young person is born of religious parents, and educated in the fear of the Almighty. But the fa- ther and mother have been gathered to the grave, and the temptations of the world prevail over their instructions, and the child becomes the irreligious and profligate. He passes from one degree of wickedness to another, till at length, as the perpetrator of some fearful crime, he waits the shame of a public execution. And in this condi- tion he is visited by a clergyman, who 268 THE DIVINE PATIENCE EXHAUSTED perhaps remembers the days of his youth, whilst his honored parents were yet alive, and himself an inmate of the village-school. It is a -grievous and sickening spectacle, that, of one who was cradled in piety, and into whose opening intelligence were distilled the precepts of righteousness, thus lying as an outcast, branded with indignity, and expecting the penalty of death. And the minister asks of him the his- tory of his guilt, how it came to pass that he wandered so far, and so fatally from uprightness. The whole is traced to neglect of the commandments of God, — a neglect which began perhaps in minor points, but rapidly increased till the whole law was made void. And we shall not attempt to tell you with what bitterness of soul, and what in- tenseness of self-reproach, the crimi- nal recalls the dying looks and words of his parents, as they bequeathed him the Bible as his best treasure, and be- sought him, with many tears, to take its precepts as his guide. The upper- most and crushing feelings in his spirit is, that, had he followed the parting ad- vice of his father and mother, he would have lived honorably and happily, and would never have thus become a by- word and an execration ; every thing earthly shipwrecked, and nothing hea- venly secured. But we only want to know what would be the thoughts of the minister in regard of God's com- mandments, as he retired from the cell where he had delivered the messages of the Gospel. He has been looking on an instance of the consequences of making void the divine law. He can- not but contrast what the criminal is, with what he would have been, had he not made void that law. And does he not gather from the contrast a higher sense than he had before entertained of the excellence of that law, and of its might in contributing to the present, as well as future welfare of mankind 1 We can quite believe that, as he re- treated from the overpowering scene, his mind agonized by the thought that one, of whom he had augured well, was thus hopelessly reduced to a desolate and ruined thing, the value of God's law, as a rule of human conduct, and a safeguard of human happiness, Avould be felt by him in a degree which he had never yet experienced j and that it would be into such a form as this that his reflections would shape themselves, — indeed. Lord, he hath made void thy law ; therefore, as for me, " therefore I love thy commandments ahove gold, yea, above fine gold." Now it is not difficult thus to trace a connection between the making void of God's law, and the heightened love which the righteous entertain to that law. The law cannot be made void, whether nationally or individually, without an accompanying demonstra- tion that it is both designed and adapt- ed to bless the human race. And we need not add, that every such demon- stration enhances the worth of the law in the estimation of the righteous, so that the transition is very natural from the statement of a general profligacy of manners to that of an increased love to the commandments of God. But we have yet another mode in which to exhibit the connection be- tween the verses, though it may have already suggested itself to your minds. — We have hitherto supposed the strengthened attachment which David expresses towards the law, to have been produced by the fact that this law was made void. But we now refer it to the fact that it was time for God to work. We consider, that is, that when the Psalmist says, " therefore I love thy commandments above gold, yea, above fine gold," the reason is to be found in the character of the times, in the season being one at which God must bring judgments on the earth. " Since thy law is made void, it is time for thee. Lord, to interfere in ven- geance ; and, on this account, because wrath must be let loose, therefore I love thy commandments above gold, yea, above fine gold." And if this be regarded as, the con- nection between the verses, you will readily admit that there is abundant force in the reason of the Psalmist. If there be one season at which, more than at another, the righteous feel the worth of revelation, and the blessedness of obeying its precepts, the season must be that of danger and trouble. Whether the danger and trouble be public or domestic ; whether it be his country, or only his own household, over which calamity hangs; the man of piety finds a consolation in religion THROUGH THE MAKING VOID THE LAW. 269 which makes him more than ever prize the revealed will of God. There is a beauty and energy in the Bible which nothing but affliction can bring out and display ; and men know comparatively little of the preciousness of Scriptu- ral promises, and the magnificence of Scriptural hopes, until placed in cir- cumstances of difficulty and distress. There are always one or two stations from which you gain the best view of a noble and diversified landscape ; and it is when ''constrained to dwell with Mesheck, and to have our habitation among the tents of Kedar," that our gaze includes most of what is glorious and brilliant in the scheme of divine mercy. It is the promise of God in the 91st Psalm — a promise addressed to every one Avho makes God his trust, — " I will be with him in trouble." But when or where is not God with usl Whither shall I go from thy Spi- rit, or whither shall I flee from thy presence 1 Indeed we well know that every Avhere is the universe full of Deity, and that, at no time, and in no place, can we be at a distance from God; and yet, as though in the day of darkness and disaster, the Omnipre- sent could so redouble his presence, that every other day should be, in comparison, one of absence, the pro- mise is, '^ I will be with him in trou- ble." And the promise is so fulfilled in the experience of the righteous, that they will own their sorrows to have been far more than compensated by the consolations afforded in the hour of tribulation, so that it would have been clearly for their loss to have escaped their trials. They are gainers by their troubles — for God removes no good without leaving a greater ; if he takes away an earthly friend, he gives them more of himself. Such we affirm to be the experience of the righteous ; and we are confident that we might appeal to many of our hearers for evidence that we overstate not this experience. There are many of you who can testi- fy to a power in the Bible of which you were not conscious, and to a sup- porting energy in divine grace, which you scarcely suspected, until your households were invaded by calamity. And if such be the fact, what feeling will be more excited in the righteous, when compelled to own that it is time for God to work, than that of love to the divine lawl If they see trouble approaching, what will they do but cling Avith greater earnestness to that which alone can support them, and which they know will never fail ] Will not their affection to God's word be vastly enhanced by the consciousness that they are about to be in circum- stances when the promises of that word must be put to the proof, and by the certainty that the putting them to the proof will issue in their thorough fulfilment ? If they have loved the word above gold in the hour of prosperi- ty, they must love it above fine gold, as they mark the gatherings of adver- sity. " It is time for thee, Lord, to work." " They have forsaken thy covenant, thrown down thy altars, and slain thy prophets with the sword ;" and the Judge of men must arise, and vindi- cate his insulted authority. But I know on whom the mark of deliverance will be set, when the men with the slaugh- ter-weapons are commanded to pass through the land. I know that where there is obedience to thy law, there will be security from thy wrath. And hence that law is more precious in my sight than it ever was before — " it is time for thee to work; therefore I love thy commandments above gold; yea, above fine gold." " It is time for thee, Lord, to work." There is much in myself which requires the processes of the refiner, much of the corruptible to be removed, much of the dross to be purged away. But if it be needful that I be cast into the furnace of affliction, I have thy pre- cepts to which to cling, thy promises on which to rest. I find that thy word comforts me in the prospect ; I know that it will sustain me in the endurance ; and hence, because it is time for thee to work, therefore is thy word dearer to me "than the gold, yea, than the fine gold." " It is time for thee, Lord, to work." The season of my pilgrimage draws to a close ; the earthly house of this ta- bernacle must be taken down ; and the hour is at hand when thou wilt recall my spirit, and summon me to the judg- ment seat. Great God! what can be of worth to me in a time such as this ? What can I value, when every thing 270 ON THE STRENGTH WHICH FAITH GAINS BY EXPERIENCE. earthly is slipping from my holdl Thy commandments — commandments which direct me to believe upon thy Son — thy lavv, a law so obeyed by the Mediator in my stead, that its every precept acquits me, and its every re- ward awaits me — these are precious to me, unspeakably more precious than ever before. I know that thy strange work must be wrought on me, the work of dissolution. I know that the time is come, when I must go hence and be no more seen. But I know also that, '' till heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from thy law." I know that " blessed are they that do his commandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the city." The nearer, there- fore, the approaches of death, the more worthless appears every thing but thy word, O my God ! The gold, and the fine gold, can profit me nothing; for " it is time for thee to work," and earth, with all its treasures, must be left. But thy commandments — a com- mandment that death be swallowed up in victory, a commandment that the corruptible put on incorruption, a com- mandment that new heavens and a new, earth rise as the everlasting home of righteousness — these give me gladness as I enter the dark valley ; these I would not barter for the richest and costliest of earthly things — '' it is time for thee, Lord, to work : therefore I love thy commandments above gold, yea, above fine gold." We have nothing to add but an ear- nest prayer that we may all be able to say from the heart with David, " Oh, how I love thy law ; it is my medita- tion all thy day." SERMON. ON THE STRENGTH WHICH FAITH GAINS BY EXPERIENCE. " For I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have com- mitted unto him against that day." — 2 Timothy, 1 : 12. You will observe, if you consult the context of this passage, that St. Paul is speaking of our Redeemer. In the tenth verse he had made mention of our Savior Jesus Christ, as having abolished death^ and brought life and immortality to light through the Gospel. The discourse is then continuous up to the words which I have just read to you; so that we are not left in doubt as to the being upon whom St. Paul fastened his faith. It was Christ with whom the apostle had left some great deposit, and of whose power and faith- fulness he expresses his deep-wrought persuasion. And it will therefore be our business, in any inquiries to which this passage may lead, to bear careful- ly in mind that Deity, united with hu- manity in the Mediator's person, con- stituted that object of faith which had been proved so trust-worthy by the teacher of the Gentiles. Now there is an important distinc- tion to be drawn between experience and faith, and which is clearly marked out to us by these words of the apos- tle. It is certain that a man cannot be saved without faith, but it is just as certain that he may be saved without experience. You must all perceive that if the matter under review be the pow- er and sufficiency of the Savior, there must be faith before there can be ex- perience. We can know nothing of Christ, except by rumor and hearsay, ON THE STRENGTH AVHICH FAITH GAINS BY EXPERIENCE. Ill until we believe in hina. But unques- tionably we might believe in him, and then the arrest of death coming upon us at the instant of the outputting of faith, all personal knowledge of him mast be referred to another and a higher state of being. So that it would be accurate to say, that while faith is indispensable, experience is not indis- pensable to salvation. We have ta- ken, however, the extreme case. And though it be certainly supposable that a man might enter into heaven without experience, properly so called, yet it is true, as a general rule, that faith will be followed by experience, and that whosoever believes in Christ will go on to know whom he hath believed. We may therefore say of experience, that it is a kind of touchstone to which faith should be brought. For whilst w^e would set ourselves most earnestly, and most assiduously, against the re- solving religion into a mere thing of frames and of feelings, we are bound to hold that it is no matter of frigid or heartless speculation, but that a real christian must have a real sense of the power and preciousness of Christ. We consider that it would be altogether idle to maintain that a man may believe in Christ as a Savior for months or years, and yet have no witness in him- self to the energies of that Being to- wards whom his faith is directed. Faith is that mighty, though mysterious prin- ciple, which attaches a man to Christ. And we may fairly set it down as im- possible that there should be actual membership between ourselves and the Mediator, and yet nothing of personal practical acquaintance with his suffi- ciencies for the office which he fills. He who believes will lasle and see that the Lord is gracious ; and knowledge be- ing superadded to faith, he will be his own testimony that the Bible is no cun- ningly-devised fable; but that Christ crucified, though unto the Jeios a stum- bling-block, and unto the Greeks fool- ishness, is nevertheless the power of God and the wisdom of God. And we think it worth while to ob- serve, before we quit these introducto- ry remarks, that experience thus cor- roborating faith, is at the root of that stanchness which poor men will ex- hibit when plied witii the arguments of the sceptic. You will not find that an uneducated believer is more easily overborne than a well-educated, by the doubts and objections of infidelity. If the illiterate man be not so able as the instructed, to expose the hollowness, and to demonstrate the fallacy of the reasoning by which he is assailed, he will be to the full as rigorous in his resistance of the attack, and will be no more shaken from his faith through want of acquaintance with the eviden- ces of Christianity, than if he were equipped with all that armor of proof which has been heaped together by the learned of the earth. And we hold the explanation of the phenomenon to be, that the poor man knows whom he hath believed. If he can make no appeal to history and to science, and so fetch no witness from the records of the earth and its inhabitants, he can travel into the world which lies within himself; and he gathers from what has been trans- acted there, and experienced there, a mightier testimony than was ever wrung from external evidence. When he began to believe, it may be true that he could give but little account of any ground-work on which he builded his faith. But as he goes on believing, his faith may be said to become more and more built upon knowledge ; and there will be wrought in him gradual- ly, through his own personal experi- ence of the power and faithfulness of the Savior, something of the persuasion which is expressed by St. Paul, and which will more than supply the place of those ramparts against infidelity which have been thrown up by the la- bors of the champions of Christianity. And though we have directed our re- marks to the case of the poor and the illiterate, we would not have it thought that they are inapplicable to others. It is quite evident that the great apostle himself, than whom there hath never arisen a man better able to demon- strate, on external grounds, that Jesus was the Christ, strengthened his faith by his knowledge, and fetched out of his own experience his choicest proof of the fulness which is laid up in the Sa- vior. And thus with ourselves ; wliat- ever our rank in society, and whatever our advantages of education, we must place ourselves on the same level with the mean and the uninstructed, when searching out the best evidence that 272 ON THE STRENGTH WHICH FAITH GAINS BY EXPERIENCE. Christ can saA^e to the uttermost ; and there will never be a proof half so ri- gid, and half so overwhelming, of the ability of the Mediator to guard the bodies and the souls of his people, as that which we derive from things al- ready done for us, in the warfare which we prosecute against Satan and the world. We will now pass on, from these ge- neral remarks, to a closer examination of the subject brought before us by our text. We ask you once more to ob- serve, that with St. Paul, experience came evidently in to the corroboration of faith 5 so that the apostle's faith was stronger, and that, too, as a consequence of what he knew of Christ, than when he had first of all started from the ranks of the persecutor. He had gone through affliction and toil in the service of the Savior, and he felt assured that now the period was not far distant, when he should be called to brave martyrdom in his cause. But in all the trials through Avhich he had passed, there had been administered unto him such abundance of support and consolation, that former troubles, in place of disheartening, on- ly nerved him for the endurance of fresh. He was nothing disquieted at the prospect of imprisonment and death. In carving his way through opposition already overcome, he had realized so much of the sustaining might of the Redeemer, that he could look forward with a noble assurance to a final, and still fiercer combat. If indeed there had been failure in the communications of assistance — if, depending on the pro- mised support, he had gone to the bat- tle, and there met with discomfiture — he might have been conscious of some- thing akin to mistrust and shrinking, when he saw his foes mustering for the last assault. But he knew whovi he had believed; he had put Christ, as it were, to the proof, and obtained nothing but an evidence, every day strengthened, that all the promises in him are yea, and in him amen, to the glory of God the Father. And now, though he had deposited, his all with the Redeemer, — though he had gathered, so to speak, his every interest, time and eternity, into one cast, and staked the whole upon the faithfulness of Christ, — he was not disturbed with the lightest ap- prehension of risk or peril ; but, look- ing composedly on the advancing tide, which, upon human calculations, was to sweep him away, and bury all his hopes in its depths, he could avouch his unflinching persuasion, that Jesus was able to keep that which he had com- mitted unto him agai7ist that day^ when he should be glorified in his saints, and admired in all them that believe. Such, we think, is the statement of our text, when taken in the breadth of its meaning. And if we now consider the passage as descriptive simply of what is, or what ought to be, the expe- rience of every believer in Christ, we deduce from it two facts, each of which deserves the best of your attention. In the first place, we ascertain that the believer obtains a knowledge of Christ. In the second place, we determine THAT THE KNOWLEDGE THUS OBTAINED IS SUCH AS TO GENERATE CONFIDENCE. We will give ourselves to the exami- nation of these facts in succession, dis- cussing, at the same time, such collat- eral truths as shall seem presented by the words of the apostle. In the first place, then, a believer OBTAINS A KNOWLEDGE OF ChRIST. NoW we think that it may be both from his own experience, and from the experi- ence of others, that a christian knows whom he hath believed. You may indeed argue, that so far as the experience of others is concerned, there is no neces- sity that a man should be a believer in" Christ in order to his obtaining acquain- tance with Christ. Assuredly any one, whatsoever his own personal senti- ments on religion, may give attention to the biography of God-fearing men, and gather from the dealings of Avhich they have been the subjects, all the in- formation which they furnish with re- gard to the character of the Mediator. But we deny this proposition, though it may seem too simple to admit of any question. Unless a man be him- self a converted man, he cannot enter into the facts and the feelings which this biography lays open. The whole record will wear to him an air of strangeness and of mystery ; and if he have the candor not to resolve into fa- naticism the registered experience, he will be forced to pass it over as thor- I oughly unintelligible. If a man know j nothing of chemistry, and if he take up ON THE STKENGTH V/HICil FAITH GAINS BY EXPERIENCE. 273 ?. treatise upon chemistry, he is at a loss in every page, and can make no way, through want of that acquaint- ance with the subject wliich tlie work presupposes. And if the author be giv- ing something of his own history, and if he carry the reader into his labora- tory, and count over to him experi- ments, and bring out results, why, the man who is no chemist, and who is therefore altogether ignorant of the properties of the substances on which the scientific man works, will under- stand not, or appreciate not, the dis- coveries which are reached of the se- crets of nature ; but with all the appa- ratus of knowledge spread before him, will remain as ignorant as ever, through the not having mastered the alphabet of chemistry. And what is true of such a science as chemistry, we hold to be equally true of practical Christianity. The experiments, if we may so speak, which have been made in the soul of a man of piety and prayer, — experiments of the power of grace and of indv/ell- ing sin — and the results also which have been derived from snch experi- ments; we would certainly contend that these cannot be understood, and cannot be entered into, unless the indi- vidual who peruses the record have something of fellow-feeling with the subject of the biography — unless, that is, there shall have passed on him that renovating change which has brought him out of nominal into real Christiani- ty. After all, the deriving knowledge of Christ from the experience of others j must be through an act of faith. It is I by belief in testimony, that what has been done for our fellow-men by the I Redeemer, is turned into information to ourselves of his sufficiencies for his office. So that it were fair to argue, that a man must have faith, and there- fore religious experience for himself, otherwise he possesses not the faculty by which to extract knowledge from ihe religious experience of others. But let a man be a believer in Christ, and every day of his life will bring him intelligence, from external testimony, of the worth of the Being on whom he fastens his faith. The witnesses who stand out and attest the excellences of the Mediator, occupy the Avhole scale ; of intelligence, from the Creator down- I wards, through every rank of the crea- ! ture. The man of faith hears the Father himself bearing testimony by a voice from heaven, " This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.''^ He hears angels and archangels lauding and mag- nifying Christ's glorious name : for do not the winged hierarchies of heaven bow to him the knee, and that too as the consequence of his work of madia- tion] He hears patriarchs who lived in the infancy of the world ; prophets who took up in succession the mighty strain, and sent it on from century to century ; apostles who went out to the battle with idolatry, and counted not their lives dear to them, so that they might plant the cross amid the wilds of superstition : — he hears all these, with one heart and one voice, witnessing to Jesus, as the Son of the Highest, the Savior of the lost. And he hears, moreover, the mar- tyrs and the confessors of every gene- ration ; the saints who have held fast their allegiance on the rack and in the furnace ; the noble champions who have risen up in the days of a declining church, and shed their blood like wa- ter in defence of the purity of doctrine ; he hears the men of whom the world was 7iot worthy, uttering an unflinching attestation to the willingness and abili- ty of Christ to succor those who give themselves to his service. And he hears, finally, a voice from the thousands who, in more private stations, have taken Christ as their Lord and their God ; who, in dependance on his might, have gone unobtrusively through duty and trial, and then have lain down on the death-bed, and worn a smile amid the decayings of the body, — and this voice bears a witness, stanch and decisive, that He in whom they have trusted, has proved himself all-sufficient to deliver. And if we do right in arguing that there is poured in gradually upon a believer this scarcely measurable evidence to the power and faithfulness of Christ, will it not come to pass that he grows every day more acquainted with the ex- cellencies of the Savior ; so that, by gathering in from the accumulated stores of the testimony of others, he will be able, with a continually strength- ening assurance, to declare, / know whom I have believed. If it were possible that this testimony of others should be appreciated and grasped without faith, or without con- 35 274. ON THE STRENGTH WHICH FAITH GAINS BY EXTERIENCK. P ver&ion, then it would be certain that a vast way might be made in the know- ledg-e of Christ, by men whose own ex- perience could furnish no information. But, forasmuch as on the grounds al- ready laid down, there must be a pre- pared soil for the reception of these testimonies to Christ, v.^e think it fair to* contend that no man can know Christ unless he believe in Christ, even though the knowledge may be fetched from the recorded attestations of every order of intelligence. It is not, however, so much from what is told him by others, as from what he experiences in himself, that a believer knows whom he hath believed. You will observe that as a result of his acting faith upon Christ, he is engaged in a moral warfare with the world, the flesh, and the devil. He goes to the combat in no strength of his own, but simply in the might of his risen Re- deemer. And the question is, whether thus putting to the proof the Savior of men, he obtains an evidence for, or an evidence against, his ability to help and tsustain 1 And can we hesitate as to the side on which the testimony turns 1 If a believer is at any time overborne in the conflict ; if lust gain the victory, or the world for a while re-assert the sov- ereignty of which it hath been stripped ; shall it be supposed for a moment that such result may be ascribed to deficien- cy in the assistance which Christ lives to communicate 1 If a christian is over- thrown, it is because he is surprised ofT his guard. IJut is Christ chargeable Avith his being ofThis guard \ It is be- cause he is remiss in prayer, or be- cause he parleys with temptation, or because he avails not himself of the armor provided by God. But is Christ chargeable with his negligence, with his indecision, with his carelessness in the use of instituted means'? We may lay it down as an ascertained truth, that Christ never failed a believer in his hour of combat. The believer may be mastered 5 the enemy may come in like a flood, and there may be no effi- cient resistance opposed to the inrush. But whensoever there is a meeting of the foe in the strength of the Lord, there is a realization of the truth of the promise. My grace is sufficient for thee. God is faithful^ who will not suf- fer you to be tempted above that ye are able. God, so to speak, measures and weighs every trial before he permits it to be allotted. He sets it side by side with the circumstances and strength of the party upon whom it is to fall. And if he ever perceive that the temptation overpasses the capacity of resistance, so that, if thus tempted, an individual would be tempted above that he is ablej then God is represented to us as refus- ing to permit the appointment, and therefore as watching that believers may never be unavoidably brought into such a position that their yielding to evil shall be a matter of necessity. And it certainly must follow from these scriptural premises, that the being over- powered can never be charged on a de- ficiency in succor; and that, though it were idle to plead for the possibility of our attaining perfection, yet the im- possibility arises not from God's com- municating too little of assistance, but solely from our own want of vigilance in appropriating and applying the free- ly offered aids. We take it, therefore, as the expe- rience of a believer, that the Captain of Salvation strengthens his followers for the moral conflict to which they are pledged. How often, when Satan has brought all his powers to the assault, and the man has seemed within a hair- breadth of yielding, how often has an earnest prayer, thrown like an arrow to the mercy-seat, caused Christ to ap- pear, as he once did to Joshua, the cap- tain of the Lord's host; and the tide of battle has been turned, and the foe has been routed, and the oppressed one delivered ! How often, when an evil passion has almost goaded the believer into compliance with its dictates, and there seemed no longer any likelihood of its being kept down or ejected, how, by dealing with this passion as dealt the apostles of old with foul spirits which had entered into the body, call- ing over it the name of the Lord Je- sus, — how often, we say, has the pas- sion been cast out, and the possessed man restored quickly to soundness and peace ! How often, in looking forward to duties imposed on him by his chris- tian profession, has the believer been conscious of a kind of shrinking at the prospect! It has seemed to him ahnost hopeless that he should bear up under the pressure of labor ; that he should ON THE STRENGTH WHICH FAITH GAINS BY EXPERIENCE. 275 meet faithfully every claim upon bis time and attention ; and that he should discharge, with any thing of becoming carefulness, the various offices with which he sees himself intrusted. But when he has reflected on himself as simply an instrument in the hands of his Master, and resolved to go on in a single dependence on the helps which are promised through Christ, has not tiie mountain become literally a plain ; so that duties which, at a distance, seemed altogether overwhelming, have proved, when entered upon, the very feverse of oppressive ! And what shall we assert to be the result of this conti- nual experience of the sufficiencies of Christ, unless it be that the believer knows whom he hath believed 1 The stone which God laid in Zion becomes to him, according to the prophetical de- scription, a tried stone. He no longer needs to appeal to the experience of others. He has the witness in himself, and he can use the language which the Samaritans used to the woman who first told them of Christ as the pro- phet, — We have heard him ourselves, and know thai this is indeed the Christ, the Savior of the world. There can be nothing clearer than [the connection between experience and knowledge. If I meet difficulties in Christ's strength, and master them ; if I face enemies in Christ's strength, ind vanquish them; if I undertake du- ies in Christ's strength, and discharge ;hem, — the difficulties, and the ene- nies, and the duties being such as I jould not grapple with by my own un- issisted might, — then my experience s actually knowledge ; for experienc- ing Christ to be faithful and powerful, certainly know Christ to be faithful md powerful. j We may yet further observe, that knowledge, the produce of experience, 's of a broader extent than our forego- :ng remarks would appear to mark out. Che believer in Christ, if indeed he live I'.ot so far below his privileges as al- oost to forfeit the title, must be one vho, having felt the burden of sin, as come weary and heavy laden to he Savior, and obtained the removal f the oppression from his conscience ; nd will it not therefore hold good, !^at, through experience, he knows :''hrist as the Lamb of God which tak- eth away the sin of the world 1 He must, moreover, be one who, painfully alive to his own utter inability to obey God's law for himself, has turned to Jesus in search of a surety, and found, in that unvarying faithfulness with which he acted out the precepts of the Father, just that procuring cause of acceptance which is required by the fallen ; and will it not therefore be true, that through experience he knows Christ as the Lord our Righteousness ? He must, moreover — at least if he have travelled at all beyond the very outset of the life of faith — have been visited with spiritual trials, and perhaps also Avith temporal ; and he will have car- ried his sorrows to the Redeemer, as to one who can be touched ivith the feel- ing of our infirmities, and he will have obtained the oil and the wine of con- solation ; and will he not therefore, from this his experience, know Christ as that gracious being who comforteth them that are cast down, who bindeth up the broken-hearted? He must yet fur- ther be one who, conscious that the world which lieth within himself is overspread with defilement, and that he is possessed of no native energy by which to carry purity into the recesses of the heart, has turned to Jesus in or- der that he might obtain the inworking of a holiness which should fit him for heaven, and has realized the processes of an on-going sanctification; and does not then his experience cause him to know Christ as made unto his people wisdom, and righteoxisness, and sanctification, and redemption] He must, finally, be"one who, feeling himself no creature of a day, but sublimely conscious that im- mortality throbbed in his veins, has looked fruitlessly on earth for an ob- ject which might fill his soul ; and then fastening upon God manifest in the flesh, has found the enormous void oc- cupied to the overflow, — and hath not then his experience led him to know Christ as formed in his people the hope of glory 1 We might extend this ad- duction of particulars; but we think that what has been already advanced will suffice for our carrying you along with us in the conclusion, that where faith resides, there must be experi- ence ; and that experience, in natural course, produces knowledge, — nay, ra- ther that experience is identical with 276 ON THE STRENGTH WHICH • FAITH GAINS BV EXPERIENCE. knowledge ; so that all true believers, who have walked a while in the hea- ven-ward path, may declare with St. Paul, / know whom I have believed. And we would again press upon your attention the important fact, that as faith, being followed by experience, will issue in knowledge, so the know- ledge thus acquii'ed will tell back upon the faith, and throw into it nerve and stability. We are persuaded that, by a wonderful and most merciful arrange- ment, God hath ordered that experi- ence should grow into such a witness for the truth of Christianity, that scep- ticism, though brought forward v/ith all that is pointed in argument and splendid in oratory, hath literally no likelihood whatever of success, even when the attack is on a believer who has nothing of human weapon at his disposal. If you sent the most accom- plished of infidels into the cottage of the meanest of our peasants, or into the workshop of the poorest of our ar- tisans, — the peasant, or the artisan, being supposed a true believer in Christ — we should entertain not the slightest apprehension as to the issue of a con- flict between parties apparently so ill- matched ; but on the contrary, should await the result in the most perfect assurance, that though there might be no taking oft' the objections of the in- fidel, there would be no overthrowing the faith of the believer. Scepticism can make no way where there is real Christianity ; all its triumphs are won on the field of nominal Christianity. And it is a phenomenon which might, at first sight, well draw our amaze- ment, that just where we should look for the least of resistance, and where we should conclude that, almost as a matter of course, the sophistry of the infidel might enter and carry every thing before it — that there we find a power of withstanding which is per- haps even greater than could be exhi- bited in a higher and more educated circle — so that the believing mechanic shall outdo the believing philosoplier in the vigor with which he repels the insinuations of a sceptic. We are not arguing that the mechanic will make the most way in confuting the sceptic. On the contrary, there will be a vast probability against his being able to expose the fallacy of a solitary objec- tion. But then he Avill take refuge sim- ply in his experience. He will not, as the philosopher may do, divide himself between experience and argument. If he have no apparatus at his command with which to meet, and dissect, and lay bare, a hollow, but plausible rea- soning, he has his own knowledge to which to turn — and then the whole question lies between a theory and a matter-of-fact. His knowledge is mat- ter-of-fact — and argument will always be worthless if it set itself against matter-of-fact. He Jaiows whom he hdh believed. There may be in~ this know- ledge none of the elements of another man's conviction, — but there is to him- self the material of an overpowering assurance. It might be quite impossi- ble to take tliis knowledge, and make it available as an argument with which to bear down on his infidel assailant. It is a visionary thing to his opponent — but it is a matter of fact to himself. And we contend that in this lies the grand secret of a poor man's capabi- lity of resisting the advancings of in- fidelity. It is no theory with him that Jesus is the Christ. It is no speculation that the Gospel oflers a remedy for those moral disorders which sin hath fastened on the creature. He has not merely read the Bible — he has felt the Bible. He has not merely heard of the medicine — he has taken the medicine. And now, we again say, when you would argue with him against Chris- tianity, you argue with him against matter-of-fact. You argue against the existence of fire, to a man who has been scorched by the flame ; and against the existence of water, to a man who has been drenched in the depths ; and against the existence of light, to a man wlio has looked out on the landscape; and argument can make no head when it sets itself against matter-of-fact. If I had labored under a painful and deadly disease, — and if I had gone to a physician — and if I had received from him a medicine which brought the health back into my limbs — what suc- cess would attend the most clever of reasoners who should set himself to prove to me that no such being as this physician had ever existed, or that there was no virtue whatsoever in the draught which had wrought in me with so healing an energy 1 He ON THE STRENGTH WHICH FAITH GAINS BY EXPERIENCE. 277 might argue with a keenness and a shrewdness which left me quite over- matched. There might be an ingenuity in his historic doubts with regard to the existence of the physician ; and there might be an apparent science in hi^ analysis of the medicine, and his exposure of its worthlessness ; and I, on my part, might be quite unable to meet him on his own ground, to show the fault and the falsehood of his rea- soning. But you can never suppose that my incapacity to refute argument would lead me to the giving up a mat- ter of fact. I should just be in the case of the man in the Gospel, to whom Christ had given sight, and whom the Pharisees plied with doubts, derived from the presumed sinfulness of the Savior, in regard to the possibility of the miracle. I should answer with this man, only varying the language, so that it might square with the form of objec- tion : Wheiher he he a sinner or no, I know not ; one thing I know, that whereas I was bli?id, now I see. And precisely, in like manner, a believer, with no other resources at his dispo- sal, can throw himself unhesitatingly on his own experience; and this, ren- dering Christianity to him all matter of fact, makes him proof against the sub- tleties of the most insidious infidelity. So that we require of you to learn from the subject under review, that God hath woven into true religion all the elements of a successful resistance to cavil and objection, leaving not the very poorest, and the most illiterate of his people open to the inroad of the enemies of christianitj'- ; but causing that there rise up from their own ex- perience such ramparts of strength, that if thej'^ have no artillery with which to battle at the adversary, there is at least no risk of their own citadel being stormed. And though we have not time to fol- low out at greater length the train of ; thought Avhich this portion of our sub- i ject originates, we commend to your ' attention, as worthj^ of being most care- ' fully pondered over, the provision which I is made in experience against infideli- ! tJ^ We may have been accustomed to regard the evidences of Christianity as lying out of reach of the poor and the illiterate ; and we may have looked j with a peculiar dread on the descend- ings of the agents of scepticism to the lower and less equipped ranks of soci- ety. And beyond ail question, if you just take the uneducated mass of our population, there is a far greater risk than with the well educated, that the diffusion amongst them of infidel pub- lications will issue in the warping them from the faith of their fathers. There may be something like stamina of re- sistance in the higher and the middling classes ; for if indifl^erent to religion, they may be idolaters of reason, and they will therefore require something better than worn-out and flimsy objec- tions before they throw away as false, what has been handed down to them as true. But when infidelity goes down, so to speak, to the inferior and less cultivated soils, there is certainly a fearful probability that it may scatter, unmolested, the seeds of a dark har- vest of apostacy ; and that men who have no reason to give why they are even nominally christians, will be wrought upon by the most empty and common-place arguments, to put from them Christianity as a scheme of false- hood and priestcraft. We are thoroughly alive to this dan- ger; and we think it not to be disput- ed, that the incapacity of the lower classes to meet infidelity on any fair terms exposes them, in a more ordina- ry degree, to the risk of being prevailed on to exchange nominal religion for no religion at all. But this, we would have you observe, is the sum total of the risk. We have no fears for any thing, except- ing nominal Christianity, And though we count that the giving up even of no- minal Christianity would just be equi- valent to the overspreading a country with ferocity and barbarism, there be- ing none of the charities of life in the train of infidelity — yet we tliink it a cause of mighty gratulation, that real Christianity has so much of the vis in- eriic in its nature, that we are quit of all dread of its being borne down even in a wide-spread apostacy. Is it not a beautiful truth, that the well equipped agents of infidelity might go succes- sively to the library of the pious theo- logian, and the hovel of the pious la- borer, and make not one jot more im- pression on the uninstructed subject of godliness, than on the deep-read mas- ter of all the evidences of our faith 1 278 ON THE STRENGTH WHICH FAITH GAINS BY EXPERIENCE. Oh, we take it for an exquisite proof of the carefulness of God over his people, that the poor cottager, in the midst of his ignorance of all that ex- ternal v;itness which we are wont to appeal to as gloriously conclusive on the claims of Christianity, is not to be overcome by the most subtle or the fiercest assault ; but that whilst men of a higher education will lay empires' and centuries under a rigid contribu- tion, and sweep in auxiliaries from the disclosures of science, and walk with a dominant step the firmament, gather- ing conviction from the rich assem- bling of stars ; this child of poverty, but at the same time of grace, shall throw himself upon himself; and turn- ing experience into evidence, be inac- cessible to the best concerted attack ; and make answer, without flinching, to every cavil and every objection, / know whom I have believed. His faith, whatsoever it be at first, becomes soon a faith built upon knowledge ; and then, if not skilful enough to show his ad- versary wrong, he is too much his own witness to give harborage to a fear that he himself is not right. But enough on the first fact which we proposed to investigate, the fact that a believer obtains a knowleilge of Christ. The second fact is almost in- volved in the first, — so that the slight- est reference to truth already made out, will show you that the kisow- LEDGE THUS OBTAINED IS SUCH AS TO GE- NERATE CONFIDENCE. You observe that, in the case of St. Paul, knowledge was accompanied by a most thorough persuasion, that Christ was able to keep safe the deposit which he had given into his guardianship. We infer, therefore, that the know- ledge, since it produced this persua- sion, must have been knowledge of Christ as possessing those attributes which insured the security of whatso- ever might be intrusted to his custody. And this is precisely what we have proved to hold good in regard ge- nerally to believers. The knowledge which their experience furnishes of Christ is knowledge of his power, of his faithfulness, of his love. So far as they have yet made trial of Christ, they can apply to themselves the words of Joshua to Israel, AW one thing hath failed of all the good things which the Lord your God spake concern- ing you. And certainly, if the result of every experiment is a new witness to the joint ability and willingness of the Mediator to succor and preserve his people, you cannot well avoid the conclusion, that knowledge must pro- duce confidence; in other words, that the more a believer knows of Christ, the more persuaded will he be of his worthiness to be intrusted with all the interests of man. If our knowledge of Christ prove to us that, up to the pre- sent moment, Christ hath done for us all that he hath promised, it is clear that this knowledge must be a ground- work for confidence, that what remains unfulfilled will be accomplished with an equal fidelity. Already has the be- liever committed everything to Christ. Faith — saving faith — whatever other definitions may be framed — is best de- scribed as that act of the soul by which the whole man is given over to the guardianship of the Mediator. He who thus resigns himself to Jesus avouch- es two things ; first, his belief that he needs a protector ; secondly, his belief that Christ is just that protector which his necessities require. And though you may resolve saving faith into more numerous elements, you will find that these two are not only the chief, but that they include all others out of which it is constituted ; so that he who believes in Christ, gives himself up to the keeping of Christ. And for- asmuch as experience proves to him, that heretofore he has been safe in this custody, assuredly the acquired know- ledge must go to the working in him a persuasion that hereafter he shall be kept in an equal security. We thus trace the connection be- tween the knowledge of the first, and the persuasion of the second part of our text. We show you, that a believer will gather from his own experience pf Christ the material of confidence in Christ's ability to preserve all that is committed to his keeping. Experience being his evidence that Christ hath never yet failed him, is also his earnest that the future comes charged with no- thing but the accomplishment of pro- mise. And therefore is he confident. Oh, if I deceive not myself, — if I have actually been enabled, through the aid of God's Spirit, to fasten my faith up- ON THE STRENGTH WHICH FAITH GAINS BT EXPEEIENCE. 279 on Him who died for me, and rose, and lives to intercede, — why should I not stay myself on this persuasion of St. Paul, that Christ is able io keep that which I have committed unto him against that day 1 Soul and body — the believer commits both to the Mediator. The soul — she must be detached from the tabernacle of flesh, and go forth alone on an unexplored pathway. Who shall tell us the awfulness of being sudden- ly launched into infinity 1 Who shall conceive the prodigies of that moment, Avhen, shaking itself free from the trammels of the body, the spirit strug- gles forth, solitary and naked, and must make its way across unknown tracts into the burning presence of an un- seen God] Terrible dissolution! Who ever saw a fellow-man die without be- ing almost staggered at the thought of that mighty journey upon which the unclothed soul had just been compel- led to enter \ But shall the believer in Christ Jesus be appalled 1 Does he not know Christ as having ransomed the souls of his people, washed them in his blood, and covered them with his righteousness] Has he not found a witness in himself, that precious is his soul in the sight of the Redeemer] What then] Shall he be otherwise than persuaded that Christ will watch over the soul at the instant of separation from the body ; and putting forth that authority which has been given him in heaven and earth, send a legion of bright angels to convey the spirit, and lead it to himself] Then safely lodged in Paradise, the soul shall await re- union with the body, unspeakably, though not yet completely blessed. To ' all this is Christ .Jesus pledged ; and knowing from his own experience that Jesus makes no pledge which he does not redeem, the believer commits his soul to Christ, persuaded that he is able to keep that which he hath committed unto him against that day. The body — it must be spoiled of life, and bound up for burial, and left to corruption. It is a mysterious destiny, that of this frame-work of matter. Its atoms may be scattered to the four winds of hea- ven. They may go down to the ca- verns of the great deep, — they may enter into the construction of other bodies. And certainly, unless there be brought to the agency a power every way infinite, it might well be regarded as an absurd expectation that the dis- severed particles should again come together, and that the identical body, with all its organs and all its limbs, which is broken up piecemeal by the blow of death, should be re-formed and re-moulded, the same in every thing, except in the being incorruptible and imperishable. But the believer knows that there is a distinct and solemn pro- mise of Christ which has respect to the bodies of his people. / xoill raise him up at the last day^ is the repeated assu- rance in regard to the man who be- lieves upon his name, — so that the Re- deemer is as deeply pledged to be the guardian of a believer's dust, as of a believer's soul. He ransomed matter as well as spirit; and descending him- self into the sepulchre, scattered the seeds of a new subsistence, which, ger- minating on the morning of the judg- ment, shall cover the globe with the vast harvest of its buried population. And, therefore, the believer can be confident. Overwhelming in its great- ness as the achievement is, it surpasses not the energies of the Agent unto whom it is ascribed. Christ raised himself — an unspeakably mightier ex- ploit than raising me. Can I not then take share in the persuasion of St. Paul ] Let darkness be woven for my shroud, and the grave be hollowed for my bed, and the worm be given for my companion — Avith thee, Christ, I intrust this body. / know whom I have believed. The winds may disperse, the waters may ingulf, and the fires may rarify the atoms which made up this frame ; but I know that my Redeemer liv- eth, and though after my skiji worms de- stroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see I God. Thus, body as Avell as soul, the ! believer commits himself wholly to , Christ, — and experience witnessing to Christ's power and Christ's faithful ness, he can exclaim with the apostle, / ain persuaded that he is able, to keep that which I have committed unto him against tliat day. That day — we need not tell the believer what day. His thoughts and his hopes are on the second advent of his Lord ; and though no day has been specified, yet speak of thai day, and the allusion is distincth'- under- stood ; the mind springs forward to meet thedcscendingpompof the Judge, \i 280 ON THE STRENGTH WHICH FAITH GAINS B7 EXPERIENCE. and that august period is anticipated, when, vindicating before the universe the fidelity of his guardianship, Christ shall consign his followers to glory and blessedness ; and, apportioning noble allotments to both body and soul, prove that nothing has been lost of that un- measured deposit, which, from Adam downwards to the last elect, has accu- mulated in his keeping. Oh, that we all had the persuasion of St. Paul! rather — oh, that we all, like the apostle, would resign ourselves to Christ. Mle to save to the uttermost^ Lord, to whom shall we go / thou hast the words of eternal life. Thou who hast abolished death, upon whom else shall we suspend our immortality 1 Thou who hast spoiled principalities and powers, whom else shall we take as our champion'? whom else confide in as our protector 1 May God, by his Spirit, lead you all to the one Media- tor between God and men, — the man Christ Jesus : and may we all be en- abled so completely to resign ourselves ; into the hands of Christ, that we may look forward without dread to the hour of our departure j assured that those black and cold waters which roll in upon the dying shall sweep nothing away out of the watchfulness of our guardian; but just bearing us Avithin V the sphere of his peculiar inspections, \\ give us up to his care as children of i, the resurrection, — as heirs of that in- i heritance which is incorruptible and j undefiled. SERMON I. JACOB'S VISION AND VOW. ^And he dreamed, and behold a ladder set up on the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven: and behold the angels of God ascending and descending on it." — Genesis, 28 : 13. It is the registered saying of a man, eminent alike for talent and piety, that he had never found such strong argu- ments against the Bible, in the writings of infidels, as had suggested themselves to his own mind. We are inclined to suppose that this individual expressed what many have experienced. We can readily believe that doubts and difficul- ties will occasionally be presented to those who read the sacred volume as the word of God, which never meet the sceptical, who read only that they may object. There would be nothing to sur- prise us, if such could be proved gene- rally the fact. Where there is a spii'- itual perception, apparent inconsisten- cies with the divine character will be more readily detected, than where there is a decided aversion to all that is holy. It should moreover be remembered, that Satan has a great deal to do with the injecting sceptical thoughts into the mind : and we may fairly expect that he will so proportion his attack to its subject, as to suggest the strongest arguments where there is most to over- come. The man who is studying the Bible with the express design of prov- ing it a forgery, will have little assist- ance, as it were, from Satan, in prose- cuting the attempt : he already disbe- lieves the Bible, and this is enough for our great adversary, the devil. But the man, on the contrary, who is studying the Bible as an inspired book, will be continually beset, and vehemently as- saulted, by Satan. There is here a great object to be gained, the shaking his confidence in the divine origin of Scripture ; and it may, therefore, well be expected that the devil will exert all his ingenuity in devising, and all his earnestness in suggesting objections. We do not intend to follow out the train of thought thus opened before you. We have made these remarks as introductory to one which you may have often made for yourselves, name- ly, that sceptics, as though blinded and bewildered, frequently adduce, as ar- guments against the Bible, what are really arguments in its favor. For ex- ample, how constantly and eagerly are the faults and crimes of the Old Testa- ment saints brought forward, and com- mented on ! In how triumphant a tone is the question proposed. Could these have been men '' after God's own heart V Yet certainly it does not need much acuteness to discover, that the recording these faults and crimes is an evidence of the truth of Holy Writ. A mere human biographer, anxious to pass off his hero as specially in favor with God, would not have ascribed to him actions which a righteous God must both disapprove and punish. Eve- ry writer of common discernment must have foreseen the objections which such ascriptions would excite : if, therefore, he had been only inventing a tale, he would have avoided what was almost sure to bring discredit on the narrative. So that there is a mani- festation of honesty in the register given of the sins of such men as Abra- ham, and Jacob, and David, which should make sceptics pause, ere they seize on that register as an argument against Scripture. Besides, had holy men of old been exhibited as faultless, there would have been much to make us doubt whether the history were faithful, and much to discourage us in our strivings after 36 282 JACOB S VISION AND VOW. righteousness. There has been but one perfect character amongst men, the Lord Jesus Christ; and of him is nothing recorded which goes not to the proving that he was "holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners." All others have done much which ought not to have been done, and left undone much which ought to have been done. And though we take no pleasure in the faults of others, we may yet declare it satisfactory to know that those who have entered heaven, were not perfect in their day and generation ; that, like ourselves, they were "compassed with infirmities," often assaulted, and often overcome by temptation. But there is yet more to be said in regard to the registered sins of men who were distinguished by the favor of God. The infidel would have some- thing like a fair ground of objection, if he could prove that sins were allowed to be committed with impunity. If, for example, he could show that David was visited with no chastisement for the heinous sins of murder and adultery, it would not be without reason that he impugned the sacred narrative, as at variance with the known principles of God's moral government. But if, after the perpetration of these crimes, the days of the king of Israel were days, according to the scriptural representa- tions, of unvaried trouble and distress, it cannot be said that the crimes en- tailed no punishment, and that there- fore the history is opposed to what we know of God's retributive dealings. Thus again, in reference to the trans- actions with which our text stands as- sociated. It is impossible to justify Re- bekah and Jacob in the deceit which they practised upon Isaac, that they might divert from Esau the blessing of the first-born. Jacob, as you will re- member, prompted by his mother Re- bekah, disguised himself in the raiment of his elder brother Esau, and thus im- posed on his father Isaac, whose eyes were dim with age. The infidel urges rightly, that there was great wicked- ness in this; but he argues wrongly, that, since Jacob succeeded in his fraud, God is represented as sanctioning vil- lany. The whole history, on the con- trary, is full of witness of God's retri- butive justice. Isaac had sinned great- ly in designing to give Esau the bless- ing of the first born : he knew that God had promised it to Jacob, and he was therefore attempting to set aside the Divine purpose and decree. And God not only frustrated the attempt, but in such manner as signally to punish the patriarch. Isaac is deceived by his own wife and son, and thus chastised with a chastisement which must have been specially grievous. Rebekah, too, and Jacob, they both greatly offended by using an unlawful mode of preventing an unlawful design. But if both offend- ed, both were punished. Jacob was the favorite son of Rebekah ; and it may have been a mother's fondness which moved her to secure for him, at all haz- ards, the blessing. But if she thought that the success of her plan would in- crease her happiness, she was greatly disappointed. The immediate conse- quence of her siiccess was, that Jacob had to flee from his father's house, and become a sojourner in a strange land. And he returned not, as it would seem, to his home, until his mother was dead j so that Rebekah saw not again the son of her affections. He were a strange calculator, Vv^ho should say that the mother went unpunished for her sin, when, as its direct consequence, her child was torn from her embrace, and not restored to it on this side the grave. And as to Jacob, he indeed gained the blessing ; and, since tliat blessing had been promised him by God, he would have equally gained it had he left God to secure the fulfilment of hik own word. But he was impatient and fear- ful ; he used fraud where he should have exercised faith; and, therefore, though the blessing was obtained, it brought with it sorrow and affliction, Tlie present advantage was wholly on the side of Esau. Esau remained in his father's house, in the undisturbed enr joyment of its comfort and abundance. But Jacob is a wanderer : we find him, as described in the chapter from which our text is taken, an outcast and a fu- gitive, with no couch but the ground, and no pillow but the stones. Yea, and I in his after life how signally did the I even-handed justice of the Almighty | return to him the anguish which he had I caused to others. Deceived by Laban, i who gave him Leah, in place of Rachel f on Avhom his aflections were set, he ! was partially requited for imposing | JACOB 3 VISION AND VOW. 283 «pon Isaac. But this was little ; the recompense came not yet up to the of- fence. His own children deceive him, as he had deceived his father, and cheat him into a belief that Joseph is dead. And he must mourn for Joseph, even as Kebekah had mourned for himself, and be separated from him through many weary years. Let any one read attentively the history of Jacob, and observe how family troubles and sor- rows continually harassed him ; and he will not, we think, contend that the pa- triarch went unpunished for the fraud which he had practised on Isaac. We are now, however, specially con- cerned with what happened to Jacob, as he fled from the face of his brother Esau ; we v.'ave, therefore, further re- ference to other portions of his histo- ry. We have already said, that, in the chapter before us, we find him a wan- derer, hurrying, in fear of his life, to his mother's kinsman in Haran. But though Jacob had sinned, and was now undergoing the punishment of his sin, God would not abandon him, nor leave him without some encouraging mani- festation. Jacob v,'as to be the deposi- tary of the promises of God, and through him was the line of the Messiah to be continued. It had been declared to Abraham, that in his seed, which was Isaac, should all nations be blessed ; and of the two sons of Isaac, God chose the younger to be the ancestor of Christ. And now, when Jacob might be almost tempted to think that there was no worth in the blessing, or that, because gained by fraud, it was not ra- tified in heaven, God is gracioush' plea- sed to vouchsafe him a vision, and thus to keep him from despair whilst suffer- ing just punishment. The vision great- ly cheered the wanderer ; and, whilst it filled him with apprehensions of the majesty of God, excited in him feelings of gratitude and devotedness. He ac- cordingly vowed a vow, strongly indi- cative, as we think, of a lowly and thankful spirit, though many have en- deavored to prove from it that the pa- triarch's religion was but selfish and time-serving. " If God will be with me, and will keep me in the way that I go, and will give me bread to eat, and rai- ment to put on, so that I come again to my father's house in peace, then shall the Lord be my God." It is our wish, on the present occasion, to con- sider, with due attention, both the vi- sion and the vow. The vow must be regarded as marking the effect which the vision had produced on the mmd of the patriarch, and therefore ought not to be excluded from our subject-matter of discourse : so that we have to en- gage you with examining, in the first place, the vision with which Jacob was favored, when on his way to Padan- aram; and in the second place, the vow through which he expressed the con- sequent feelings and workings of his mind. Now the vision is related in our text, and the three following verses. A lad- der is beheld, planted on the earth, but reaching up to heaven. Above this lad- der the Lord is seen to stand, and he addresses Jacob in most encouraging words. He declares that the land on which he lay, a fugitive and an exile, should yet be given to himself and his posterity, and that his children should be multiplied as the dust of the earth. The promise made to Abraham is then solemnly renewed : " In thee and in thy seed shall all the families of the earth be blessed." Jacob is thus assured that he had indeed obtained the blessing of the first-born, and that from his loins was to spring the great Deliverer of hu- mankind. There are added general de- clarations that he should be under the guardianship of God in his absence ifrom his home ; and then the vision is at an end, and Jacob awakes, and ex- presses a kind of awful conviction that the Lord was in that place, and he knew it not. Now our great object is to ascertain the intent of the vision : for we may be sure that the ladder, which thus reach- ed from earth to heaven, and along which ascended and descended the an- gels of God, Avas emblematic of some truth with which it was important that Jacob should be acquainted. We are all aware, that, under the patriarchal dispensation, lessons of the greatest moment were given through significant representations. We may suppose that the Spirit of God instructed those fa- vored with this mystical revelation, so that they were enabled to detect the meaning symbolically conveyed. It was not consistent with the plan of God's dealings with this earth, that clear and 284 Jacob's vision and vow. undisguised notices should be given of redemption, whilst the time of the Re- deemer's appearance was yet far re- moved. But neither would it have con- sisted with the divine mercy, that the patriarchs should have been left whol- ly ignorant of the deliverance to be wrought out in the fulness of time, or with no information but that derived from early tradition. And in order to answer both these ends, the keeping the plan concealed, and yet the making its nature sufficiently known, God was pleased to vouchsafe visions, and com- mand typical actions, by and through which, as we have reason to believe, he communicated to his saints such portions of truth as it most concerned them to know. There seems no reason to doubt, that Abraham's offering up his son was a significative transaction, appointed and employed by God to teach the father of the faithful how the world would be redeemed. It is probable also that Jacob's wrestling with an angel, on the night which pre- ceded his meeting with Esau, was an instance of information by action, the patriarch being hereby taught general- Ij'^ what prevalence earnest prayer has with God, and assured moreover of the happy issue of the dreaded interview of the morrow. We think it fair to sup- pose, that, in like manner, the vision granted to Jacob, as he fled from his home, was designed to represent some great spiritual truth, and was itself a revelation of some portion of the pur- poses of God. If nothing had been in- tended beyond the assuring Jacob of divine favor and protection, the ladder, with its attendant circumstances, seems unnecessarily introduced ; for the words, spoken by God, would have sufficed to console and animate the wanderer. It is, therefore, io strict conformity with the general character of the patriarchal dispensation, and in accordance with the peculiar circumstances of Jacob, that we should suppose the vision it- self emblematical, so that, over and above the encouraging things which were said, there was a great truth taught by that which was seen. Hence the question now is, as to the meaning of the vision itself, as to the truths re- presented by the mystical ladder. It has often been affirmed, that no- thing more was designed than the in- forming Jacob of the ever-watchful pro- vidence of the Almighty. We are not prepared to deny that the image of a ladder, reaching from earth to heaven, God himself appearing at its top, and angels passing up and down in rapid succession, may be accommodated to the workings of Divine providence ; in- asmuch as a constant communication is thus represented as kept up between this globe and higher places in crea- tion, and God is exhibited as carrying on, through the instrumentality of an- gels, unwearied intercourse with the human population. And yet, at the same time, we feel that the figure, if this be its import, scarcely seems distinguished by the aptness and force which are always characteristic of scriptural imagery. The ladder ap- pears to mark an appointed channel of communication : it can hardly be said to mark that universal inspection of the affairs of this earth, and that uni- versal care of its inhabitants, which we are accustomed to understand by the providence of God. Besides, as we have already intimated, if the vision taught nothing but that Jacob Avas the object of divine watchfulness and pro- tection, it did not add to the declara- tions with which it was accompanied; and the patriarch could gather no truth from what he saw, Avhich he might not have equally gathered from what he heard. And this, to say the least, is not usual in God's recorded dealings with his people : certainly, every part of these dealings is generally signifi- cative, and none can be shown to have been superfluous. We seem bound, therefore, to apply the vision to other truths besides that of the providence of God. And when you observe, that one great object of the celestial manifestation was the re- newing with Jacob the promise made to Abraham and Isaac, you will be quite prepared to expect in the vision a revelation of the Messiah himself. Jacob had just secured the distinction of being the progenitor of Christ ; and God is about to assure him, in the words of the original covenant with his fathers, that in his seed should all na- tions be blessed. How natural then that some intelligence should be com- municated in regard of the Christ, so that, whilst the patriarch knew himself ni n< JACOB S VISION AND VOW, 285 the depository of that grand promise in which the whole world had interest, he might also know, so far as consisted with an introductory dispensation, what the blessings were which the promise insured. It must be fair to suppose that what Jacob saw had an intimate connection with what he heard, and that the vision was intended, either to illustrate, or be illustrated by, the sub- sequent discourse. But there is no- thing in the discourse, except that pro- mise which had reference to Christ, on which it can be said that obscurity rests. The other parts have to do with that guardianship, of which Jacob should be the object, and with the great- ness of that nation, of which he should be the ancestor. Hence the likelihood, if Ave may not use a stronger expres- sion, is considerable, that the vision should be associated with the promise of the Christ ; and that, as the one as- sured Jacob that the Mediator should arise from his line, the other emblema- tically informed him of this Mediator's person and work. We would add to this, that our Sa- vior, in his conversation with Natha- nael, used language which seems un- doubtedly to refer to the mystic lad- der on which the patriarch gazed. " Verily, verily, I say unto you. Here- after you shall see heaven open, and the angels of God ascending and de- scending upon the Son of Man." Here the Redeemer appears to identify him- self, as the Son of Man, with the lad- der : the angels are to ascend and de- scend on the one, even as they did on the other. We may find occasion, in the sequel, to recur to this saying of Christ, and to examine it more at length. At present, we simply adduce it as corroborating the opinion, that the ladder represented the Mediator ; and that, as Abraham had been sym- bolically taught that the world should be redeemed through the sacrifice of a substitute, so was Jacob now sym- bolically instructed in regard of that substitute's nature and dignity. But, of course, the great point re- mains yet to be examined, namely, whether the vision in question fur- nished an accurate representation of the promised deliverer. And here we affirm at once, that, if the ladder seen by Jacob be regarded as a type of the Mediator, there is an appositeness in the figure which must commend itself to all thinking minds. Cut off by apos- tacy from all intercourse with what is yet glorious and undefiled in the uni- verse, the human race lies naturally in wretchedness and loneliness ; and, though it may cast eager looks at the bright heaven which is above, has no means of holding communion with the tenants, or gaining admission to the gladness, of domains which may be privileged with special manifestations of Deity. Who of all our fallen line, is possessed of a power, or can frame an engine, through which he may as- cend from a planet which labors be- neath the provoked curse of God, and climb the battlements of the sky, and achieve entrance into the city, into which is to enter nothing that de- fileth ] Who is there, if the Almighty had dealt with this world according to its iniquities, and left it in the ruin threatened to transgression, that could have so found out God by the might of his reason, and so propitiated him by the might of his virtue, as to have renewed the broken friendship between the human and the divine, and opened a clear way for the pas- sage of the earthly to the heavenly 1 All of you, if believers in revelation, know and admit that the direct conse- quence of our forefather's sin was the suspension of all intercourse, except that carried on through the ministry of vengeance, between God and man. Up to the moment of rebellion there had been free communion: earth and heaven seemed connected by a path which the very Deity loved to tra- verse ; for he came down to the gar- den where our first parents dwelt, and held Avith them most intimate con- verse. But, in rebelling, man broke up, as it were, this path, rendering it impracticable that any should escape from the heritage on which evil had gained footing, and mount to bright lands where all was yet pure. And we know of no more striking and accurate representation of the condition of our race, in its alienation from God, than that which should picture the earth as suddenly deprived of every channel of communication with other sections of the universe, so that it must wander on in appalling solitariness, a prison- 286 Jj\cob's vision and vow. house from which nothing human could soar, and which nothing divine could visit. Ay, this was the earth, so soon as Satan had seduced man from allegiance 5 a lonely thing, which had snapped every link which bound it to what was holy and happy in cre- ation: and, as it bore along the lost children of Adam, they might have gazed wistfully on lands just visible in the firmament, and which they knew to be radiant Avith the presence of their Maker : but where was the way across the vast expanse, where the mechanism by which they might scale the inaccessible heights'? And undoubtedly, if it be a just re- presentation of our race, in its fallen estate, that it is cut off from all inter- course with God, and all access to hea- ven, it must be a just representation of the Mediator, that he is the channel through which the lost communion may be renewed, the way through which the lost paradise may be re-entered. The' world has not been left in its soli- tariness: for God "hath in these last days spoken unto us by his Son ;" and through him we have '' access to the Father." We are not forced to remain in our exile and wretchedness : for Christ hath declared, " By me, if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall go in and out, and find pasture." Yea, we can now thank the " Lord of heaven and earth," that the broken links have been repaired, so that the severed parts of creation maybe again bound into one household; that a high- way has been thrown up, along which the weary and heavy-laden may pass to that rest which remaineth for the people of God. But it is only telling you truths, with which we may hope that the very youngest are acquainted, to tell you that it is Christ alone by whom all this has been effected, Christ alone through whom we can approach God, Christ alone through whom we can en- ter the kingdom of heaven. And what then more accurate than a delineation, which should represent the Mediator under the image of a ladder, based on earth, but reaching to heaven, and thus affording a medium of communication between God and man 1 Oh, as Jacob lay upon the ground, an exile from his father's house, and without a friend or companion, he was not an inappropri- ate figure of the human race, forced away by sin from the presence of their Maker, and with no associates to aid by their counsel, and cheer by their sympathy. And when, in visions of the night, there rose before the patriarch the appearance as of a ladder, planted on the earth, but its top resting on the firmament, then, may we affirm, was there given to the wanderer the strong- est assurance, that God would yet pro- vide means for raising the ruined from degradation, and gathering into his ov^n dwelling-place the banished and fallen. When, moreover, this expres- sive emblem of renewed intercourse between earth and heaven was accom- panied by the voice of the living God, making mention of the deliverer in whom the world should be blessed, then might it be declared that the re- velation was complete, and that through the mystic ladder was the Gospel preached to Jacob ; for in this figure he could read that the seed of the wo- man would be the Mediator between God and man, " the repairer of the breach, the restorer of paths to dwell in," and who, as "the way, the truth, and the life," would " open the king- dom of heaven to all believers." But it is necessary that we go some- what more into particulars : hitherto we have only spoken of Christ in his mediatorial office, without referring to the mysteries of his person. The em- blem, however, of the ladder is accu- rate in regard of the person, as well as the work, of the Redeemer. As the ladder stretched into the heavens, and the very Deity occupied its summit, so Christ, in his divine nature, penetrated immensity, and was one with the Fa- ther. And as the ladder, though its top was on the sky, was set upon the earth, so Christ, though essentially God, took upon him flesh, and was "found in fashion as a man." The ladderwould be ij useless, if it rested not on the ground, or if it reached not to the sky: and thus, had not Christ been both earthly and heavenly, both human and divine, he could not have been the Mediator, through whom the sinful may ap- proach, and be reconciled to their Ma- ker. As God appeared standing above the ladder, looking down with com- placency on his servant, and address- ing him in gracious and encouraging Jacob's vision and vow. 287 words, so it is only in and through Christ that the Father beholds us with favor, and speaks to us the language of forgiveness and friendship. In respect, moreover, of the angels, who were seen ascending and descending on the lad- der, we cannot doubt that these celes- tial beings, though they now attend us as ministering spirits, would have held no communication with our race, had it remained unredeemed. We know that God is spoken of by St. Paul, in his Epistle to the Ephesians, as "ga- thering together in one all things in Christ, both which are in heaven, and which are on earth, even in him ;" and again, in his Epistle to the Colossi- ans, as " by him reconciling all things to himself, whether they be things in earth, or things in heaven." And it is evidently the drift of such expres- sions, that, by and through the media- tion of Christ, the fellowship of the human race with other orders of being was to be restored, and men and an- gels were to be brought into associa- tion. Indeed we know ourselves in- debted to the Mediator for every bless- ing : if, therefore, we regard angels as "the ministers of God which do his pleasure," and through whose instru- mentality he carries on designs, whe- ther of Providence or of grace, we must feel sure that we owe it exclusively to Christ, that these glorious creatures are busied with promoting our welfare. And if then the continued descent and ascent of the angels mark, as we sup- pose it must, their coming down on commissions in which men have inter- est, and their returning to receive fresh instructions, there is peculiar fitness in the representation of their ascending I and descending by a ladder which is figurative of Christ : it is a direct re- sult of Christ's mediation, that angels t are sent forth as" ministering spirits, to ! minister for them who shall be iieirs of salvation ;" and if then a ladder, reach- ing from earth to heaven, be a just em- blem of the Savior, it is in the nicest i keeping with this emblem, that, up and I down the ladder, should be rapidly pass- ing the cherubim and the seraphim. We would further observe that some writers appear anxious to prove, that the appearance, which the patriarch saw, was not precisely that of a ladder, but probably that of a pyramid, or pil- lar. There is a want of dignity, they think, in the image of a ladder, and they would therefore substitute a more imposing. But though many of the same truths might be taught, if there were the supposed change in the em- blem, we are no ways afi'ected by the homeliness of the figure, but think, on the contrary, that it adds to its fitness. It was the declaration of prophecy in regard to the Christ, " He hath no form nor comeliness 5 and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him." And, therefore, if he is to be delineated as connecting earth and heaven, we should expect the im- age to be that of a ladder, a common instrument with nothinof of the errand and attractive, rather than of a splen- did tower, such as that of Babel, which men themselves would delight to rear, and, when reared, to admire. Besides, however we would avoid the straining a type, we own that the representation of Christ, under the figure of a ladder, appears to us to include the most ex- act references to the appointed mode of salvation. How do I look to be saved 1 by clinging to Christ. How do I expect to ascend up to heaven '{ by mounting, step by step, the whole height of Christ's work, so that he is made un- to me of God, " wisdom, and righteous- ness, and sanctification, and redemp- tion." It is no easy thing, the gaining eternal life through the finished work of the fllediator. It is a vast deal more than the sitting with the prophet in his car of fire, and being borne aloft, with- out effort, to an incorruptible inher- itance. " The kingdom of heaven suf- fereth violence, and the violent take it by force." There must be, if we may thus express it, a holding fast to Christ, and a climbing up by Christ : to look back is to grow dizzy, to let go is to perish. And that we are to mount by the ]\Iediator, and, all the while, to keep hold on the Mediator; that we are, in short, to ascend by successive stages, stretching the hand to one line after another in the work of the Redeemer, and planting the foot on one step after another in the covenant made with us in Christ — what can more aptly exhi- bit this, than the exhibiting Christ as a ladder, set upon the earth that men may scale the heavens'? The necessity for our own striving, and yet the use- 288 Jacob's vision and vow. lessness of that striving if not exerted in the right manner ; the impossibility of our entering heaven except through Christ, and the equal impossibility of our entering it, without effort and toil ; the fearful peril of our relaxing, for an instant, our spiritual vigilance and ear- nestness, seeing that we hang, as it were, between earth and heaven, and may be thrown, by a moment's care- lessness, headlong to the ground, the completeness and singleness of the sal- vation which is in Jesus, so that, if we adhere to it, it is sufficient, but there are no modes which meet in it, or branch off from it — swerve a single inch, and you have no footing, but must be hopelessly precipitated; all these par- ticulars seem indicated under the ima- gery of a ladder, and could not per- haps have been equally marked, had soma other emblem been given of the connecting of earth and heaven by the Mediator, Christ. And now, as I stand upon the earth, the child of a fallen and yet redeemed race, and examine how I may escape the heritage of shame which is naturally my portion, and soar to that sky which woos me by its brightness, oh, I read of "enter- ing into the holiest by the blood of Jesus," and of " laying hold upon the hope set before us," and of "following on to know the Lord," and of being "raised up, and being made to sit to- gether in heavenly places in Christ," — expressions which prove to me, that, if I would reach heaven, it must be through fastening myself to the Media- tor, and yet straining every nerve to leave the world behind ; leaning inces- santly upon Christ, and yet laboring to diminish by successive steps my dis- tance from God; being always "found in Christ," and yet " led by the Spirit," so as to be always on the advance. But when I consider these scriptural combinations of believing and work- ing, trusting in another and laboring for one's self, always having hold on Christ, and always mounting to greater nearness to God, always supported by the same suretyship and always press- ing upward to the same point, I seem to have before me the exact picture of a man, who, with a steady eye, and a firm foot, and a stanch hand, climbs by a ladder some mighty precipice : he could make no way, whatever his striv- ings, without the ladder, and the ladder is utterly useless without his own striv- ings. May we not, therefore, contend, that, through the vision vouchsafed to the patriarch Jacob, God not only re- vealed the person and work of the Me- diator, but gave information, and that too in no very equivocal shape, how the working out salvation will be com- bined with the being saved " freely through the redemption that is in Christ," whenever any of the children of men are raised from earth, and ele- vated to heaven 1 But it will be right that, before leav- ing this portion of our subject, we re- cur to our Lord's speech to Nathanael, which has already been quoted. It is easy to decide that Christ designed a reference to Jacob's vision, but not to determine the precise meaning of his words. " Hereafter ye shall see hea- ven open, and the angels of God as- cending and descending upon the Son of Man." The words are prophetic, but there is nothing to inform us what time may be intended by " hereafter." We cannot, however, but think, that how- ever ingenious may be the interpreta- , tions which authors have advanced, nothing has yet happened which quite fulfils the prophecy.* We doubt who- | ther there were any occurrences, dur- i ing Christ's residence on earth, which ( could be said to bring to pass the visi- J ble opening of heaven, and the ascent j and descent of angels on the Mediator. | Christ had not indeed wrought mira* i cles, when he held his interview with | Nathanael; and he may have referred | to the demonstrations of almightiness, | which he was about to put forth, and i which would as much prove his divine |I majesty, as though he were surrounded I with troops of angels. But it can hard- ' ly be said that such an explanation as this is commensurate with the passage. We know not what to call far-fetched, if we may not so designate the state- ment, that those who saw Christ work miracles, saw heaven opened, and the angels of God ascending and descend- ing on the Savior. We may add that there were circumstances attending the crucifixion, resurrection, and as- cension of Jesus, which may be con- sidered as having partially accomplish- See King-'s Morsels of Criticism. JACOB S VISIOIN' AM) VOW 289 ed the words under review. Angels appeared in connection with these se- veral events, and the firmament was at length opened to receive the ascending conqueror. But here we must again say, that the interpretation comes ma- nifestly so far short of the scope of the passage, that nothing but inability to find another meaning can make us con- tent with one so contracted. For our own part, then, we cannot but believe that the prophecy has not yet received its full accomplishment. We refer it onward to times, of which indeed our apprehensions are indis- tinct, but not on that account less ani- mating. We have abundant reason for believing that days are to break on this creation, such as have never yet visited 1 it since man rebelled against his Maker. i We read of " new heavens and a new i earth," as though the v.?hole material i system were to be splendidly renova- I ted, and of the creature itself also be- I ing " delivered from the bondage of corruption," as though animate and in- animate were to reach one general ju- bilee. And when there shall have been ! effected this magnificent rebuilding of all that has been shattered, this hang- ing with new majesty, and enamelling with fresh beauty, the creation wherein we dwell; and when, in its evel-y de- partment, our globe shall be tenanted by " a holy priesthood, a peculiar peo- ple;" then, for any thing we can tell, may such intercourse be opened be- tween the earth and other sections of ! the universe, as shall give an ampler I meaning than has yet been imagined I to the vision of Jacob, and the words I of Christ. It is a fine saying of the I Psalmist, '' God setteth the solitary in I families." And it may be one of the : verifications of this saying, that worlds 'which have hitherto moved, each in its I own orbit, each left in its solitariness, i shall have channels of communication the one with the other, so that one mighty family shall be formed of or- ders of being which have never yet (been brought into visible association. I We cannot pretend to speak with any certainty of events and times, of which we have only obscure intimations. But I at least, unable as we are to apply the I words under review to any thing that ihas already occurred, wc may lawfullj' [connect them with what is yet future, and, by associating them with other predictions, gain and give additional illustration. And by following this plan in the present instance, we seem war- ranted in stating the high probability, that, in glorious days when Christ's kingdom will be visibly reared on the wreck of human sovereignty, there will be open and brilliant intercourse be- tween dwellers on this earth and high- er ranks of intelligence. Then may it come to pass that Jacob's ladder will be shown to have represented the bring- ing into blessed communion all the ends of creation ; and then may the Mediator, in some manner unimagina- ble now, appear as the channel through which communion is maintained. Ay, and then, in some stupendous unveil- ing of the secrets of the universe, and in some sublime manifestation of him- self as the connecting link between all departments of the unlimited house- hold, may Christ explain, and make good, the yet mysterious saying, '' Here- after ye shall see heaven open, and the angels of God ascending and descend- ing upon the Son of Man." But we turn now from the vision to the vow of Jacob; from the consider- ing what the patriarch saw and heard, to the examining the effect thereby wrought upon his mind. We have no intention of entering at length into all that is related of the conduct of Jacob, when he awaked out of sleep. We wish to confine ourselves strictly to his vow ; for it is against this that objections have been urged by infidel writers. Ja- cob sets up for a pillar the stone which had served him as a pillow; and, hav- ing poured oil upon it, so as to dedi- cate it to God, vows a vow — " if God will be with me, and will keep me in the way that I go, and will give me bread to eat, and raiment to put on, so that I come again to my father's house in peace, then shall the Lord be my God." He adds — but it is not neces- sary that we touch on this — that the erected stone should be the house of the Lord, and that, of all which God gave him, he would consecrate the tenth. Now it is urged that there is some- thing very mercenary and sel(;.guring the condition of God's people ii their dispersion, and that restoration i'hich we are yet bidden to expect ; I pd we shall find an accuracy and a •; jilness of description, not surpassed |i any portion of prophecy. Of course, ie can only gather our arguments and lustrations from the history of the Jews ; for we are ignorant of what has befallen the ten tribes, since carried into captivity by the king of Assyria. But this will suffice. If the description be proved correct, so far as we have the power of examining its accuracy, we shall have little cause to question its fidelity on points which lie beyond our range of information. We observe the state of the Jews during long centuries past ; and we ask whether it have not been described to the letter by what Ezekiel beheld in the valley of vision 1 Ever since the Romans were let loose on the devoted land and people, the whole globe has been this valley of vision; for every- where have been scattered the frag- ments of the once favored nation. Both the civil and the ecclesiastical polity of the Jews were completely broken up ; and there has never been the least approach towards the recon- struction of any government of their own. They have lived indeed under every sort of rule, having been mix- ed with every people under heaven, though all along kept marvellously dis- tinct. But never, since their sins pro- voked God to give them up, have they had governors and laws of their own ; and never, therefore, have they been ought else than the skeleton of a na- tion, and that too a s;keleton whose bones have been detached, and spread confesedly throughout the whole valley. And if there had come, at any time, a voice from heaven, demanding whether these dry bones could live, whether the dispersed Jews could ever again be gathered under one head, and with- in their own land, the answer of those, who most acknowledged the divine power, must have been, " O Lord God, thou knowest." On all human compu- tation, there lies an improbability, which is little short of an impossibi- lity, against the return of the children of Abraham, from every section of the earth, to Judea, and their re-establish- mcnt as an independent people. The bones are many : W'ho shall collect so vast a multitude ] The bones are dry : who sliall animate what hath so long w\'inted vitality 1 Yet, we are com- manded to prophesy over these bones ; to declare, in unqualified language, that the Jews shall return home, when " the times of the Gentiles " are fulfill- 39 306 THE RESURRECTION OF DRY BONES, ed, rebuild their Jerusalem, and pos- sess the sovereignty of the earth. If there be a point on which prophecy is clearer and more diffuse than on an- other, it seems to us to be this of the restoration of Israel, and of the setting up of the throne of David in the land which the stranger has long possessed and profaned. And whilst we have this "sure word of prophecy," it is not the apparent difficulty which can make us hesitate to expect the marvellous oc- currence. There shall be a stirring amongst the dry bones. We know not by what mysterious impulse and agen- cy a people, spread over the whole earth, shall be suddenly and simulta- neously moved : but bone shall come to bone, Jew shall seek out and com- bine with Jew: the sinew and the flesh shall come up upon these bones — there shall be a principle of union, combining what have long been detach- ed ; and thus shall the scattered ele- ments be reconstructed into the skele- ton, and then the skeleton shall give place to the full grown body. This body will yet have to be quickened — the Jews must not only be re-united as a people, they must be converted to the faith which they have long despised, and be brought to the confessing their crucifi- ed Messiah. And this must be special- ly the work of the Spirit of the Jiving God, entering within them, and stir- ring them from that m.oral deadness in which they have lain during their long alienation. A separate prophecy is ut- tered in'- reference to the conriing of the breath into the body ; and it is not improbable that this assigning different times to the reconstruction and reani- mation of the body, might be intended to mark, what seems elsewhere indi- cated, that the Jews will be recombin- ed into a separate people, before pre- vailed on to acknowledge the Christ ; that it will not be until after their re- settlement in Canaan, that they will nationally embrace Christianity. Cer- tainly, this is what seems taught us by the prophecies of Zechariah f for it is after beholding the Jews in posses- sion of Jerusalem that we read, "I will pour upon the house of David, and upon the inhabitants of Jerusa- lem, the spirit of grace and of .suppli- cation ; and they shall look upon me whom they have pierced, and they shall mourn for him as one mourneth for his only son." So that the conver- sion of the people is to follow their re- storation ; just as, in the vision be- fore us, the quickening of the body by God's Spirit is quite separate from the binding of the bones, and the covering! them with flesh. j But, whatever the order of events, ' the final result is to be that the Jews! shall be reinstated in Judea, and re-i ceive Jesus as Messiah. The bones having been formed into the body, and the body animated from above, the dis- persed and powerless people shall be '' an exceeding great army," ready to; wage the battle of the Lord God A\-\ mighty. The valley of vision, hereto, fore covered with the fragments of at ; nation which has long ceased to have; i a name amongst kingdoms, shall bt. crowded with emissaries from Jeru-| j salem, bearing in their hands the cross; t which their fathers erected' and prof claiming the Savior whom those father;: denied. We admit again, that, on every human calculation, such result is al most incredible; and that, though w( live in the old age of the world, whei; the day is perhaps not distant which i: to witness this stupendous resurrec tion, we are unable to assign the mod in which it will be effected. But tli vision of Ezekiel sets before us an iin mediate interference of God, showin, that there will be miracle in the restc ration of Israel, as there would be ii the gathering of the bones with whic. the valley was strewed. But if ther is to be miracle, the strangeness bring no evidence against the truth; and w wait with confidence the issuing of divine edict, which shall be heard an obeyed by the dispersed seed of Abr; ham. The aspect of the valley mn still be the same as when Ezekiel w;' carried thither " in the Spirit of th Lord." Still, in the whole compass ( imagery there may be no more faithfi representation of the national cond tion of the Jews, than that which set them before us as the pieces int which skeletons have been shiverc and which have been tossed over tl globe by some irresistible deluge. N vertheless we are listening, with tl prophet, for a sound as of a shakii amongst these bones. It shall ' heard : and the nations, on who i THE KESURRECTION OF DRY BONES. 307 mountains, and in whose valleys, the bones are thickly strewn, shall be startled by the mysterious noise. And when, as though actuated by one un- controllable impulse, the thousands in every land who have been mixed with its population, and yet not confound- ed ; who have lived under its laws, and yet been aliens, made themselves homes in its cities, and yet been for- eigners ; the remains of a dead nation, the wreck of a lost state, the shreds'of I a scattered community — when these shall arise, and league themselves to one purpose, and pour into Judea, till , the waste and desolate places swarm, ( as in ancient days, with the tribes of the Lord — then will there be accom- ' plished to the full what Ezekiel saw in strange vision ; and the whole world shall confess that the marvel would I not be exceeded, nay, would only be ; represented as in a figure, if piles of I human bones were formed suddenly [into bodies, and a vast army sprang :from the dust of the sepulchres. [ But we proceed from considering I the Jews in their national, to the con- Jsidering them in their typical capacity. We have already given you reasons for regarding the Jews as a typical people, and which therefore warrant iour searching for truths which concern [the whole race, in representations which {primarily belonged to a solitary nation. And if your minds be informed on the [great doctrines of Scripture, you can ^scarcely read the parable without feel- ing that it was written for our instruc- tion, that it presents as accurate a pic- ture of men in general, as of the Jews in particular. You know that the foun- dation truth of the whole christian sys- tem, that which is taken for granted in everypartoftheGospel,and to disprove [which would be to disprove the necessi- ty for a Mediator's interference, is the .truth of human corruption and helpless- ness. It would not be easy to exagge- ;rate this truth, to overstate it as taught jin holy writ, though erroneoQs inferen- [ces may be deduced from it, or false re- presentations given of its character. The important thingis,that we carefully dis- -inguish between man as the citizen of his world, and man as the citizen of Imother world ; for unless such distinc- ion be kept in mind, we may easily idvance statements in regard of human degeneracy, which men will justly re- ject as unfair and overcharged. So long as man is viewed only as a mem- ber of society, he is undoubtedly ca- pable of much that is noble and excel- lent ; it were absurd to make the sym- pathies which he can display, and the virtues which he can cultivate, the sub- ject of one sweeping and indiscriminate censure. If he did not belong to two worlds ; if he owed every thing to his fellow-creatures, and nothing to his Creator ; we should be met, on all hands, by fine instances of what is ge- nerous, and upright, and amiable, which would tell strongly against our theory of the corruption of nature, and almost force us to confess that man cannot be " very far gone from original righte- ousness." But when you survey the human race in relation to its Maker, then it is that the corruption may be proved radical and total. You will not find that those who are most exempla- ry in the discharge of relative duties, and whose conduct, in all the inter- courses of life, wins the most of respect and admiration, are by nature one jot more disposed to love God, and recog- nize his authority, than the openly dis- solute. There are the very widest dif- ferences between men, regarded as members of societj^; there is a tho- rough uniformity amongst them, if you judge by aversion from God, and de- termination to sacrifice the eternal for the temporal. If they belonged to this world alone, they could not be proved totally and equally corrupt : for this would be to deny that lovely things, and things of good report, yet linger amid the ruins of humanity. But for- asmuch as they belong also to another world, and have obligations laid on them by their relation to their Maker, the corruption may be demonstrated without the slightest exception ; for you cannot find the solitary instance of a man who has by nature any love of God, or any hatred of sin, or any desire after holiness. This, as we be- lieve, is the fair statement of the doc- trine of human depravity — a depravity which does not prevent the play of much that is amiable, and the circula- tion of much that is estimable, between man and man; but, in consequence of which, all men are alike indisposed to the having God in their thoughts, and 303 THE RESURRECTION OF DRY EONES. alike incapacitated for seeking his favor. And when the Bible would set this doctrine before us, it employs undoubt- edly strong figures ; but not stronger, if the case be examined, than are war- ranted by the facts. Thus, as you are all aware, there is no more common representation than one which suppo- ses men in a state of death, morally dead, and therefore totally disqualified for the functions of spiritual life. We may admit that this looks, at first sight, like an overcharged representation; and men accordingly are very loth to allow its correctness. They know that the soul has vast powers and capaci- ties, and that she can exert herself mightily in investigating truth. They know also that the faculties and feel- ings of the inner man are far enough from torpid, but possess much of vital energy. Hence they see not how, in a moral point of view, any more than in jx physical, men can justly be called dead ; and they suppose, that in this instance at least, the figurative lan- guage of Scripture is to be explained with many deductions and allowances. But we are scarcely disposed to admit that the language is in this case figura- tive at all. We believe that the soul, considered relatively to that other world to which she rightly belongs, betrays precisely that insensibility, and that incapacity of action, which characterize a dead body, in reference to the world of matter by which it is surrounded. If the body be reckoned dead, because it can no longer see, nor hear, nor speak, nor move, there are the same reasons why the soul, in her natural state, should be reckoned dead ; for she has no eye for the light of hea- ven, no ear for its melodies, no taste for its pleasures, and no energy for its occupations. The soul is as insensible and powerless with regard to the world of spirit, as the dead bodj^ with regard to that of matter; why then should we not use the same language, and declare the soul dead ; and that too with no more of a figure of speech than when the term is applied to the inanimate corpse 1 The soul may be quite alive, so far as this earih is concerned, for she may be able to seek with the greatest ardor whatever it can ofler, and nevertheless be quite dead, so far as heaven is concerned, for she may \U be totally incapable of either pursuing or desiring what is invisible and eter- nal. And hence we conclude that the representing unconverted men as" dead in trespasses and sins," is not the draw- ing an overharsh or exaggerated pic- ture, but rather the delineating, with great faithfulness, that depravity of our nature Avhich was a consequence on Adam's transgression. This depravity is total when men are viewed relatively to God, whatever it may be when you consider them in the relationships of | life ; so that they are dead in regard of j their immortality, however alive as ci- ■« tizens of earth. j , Let then the world be surveyed by jj one who knows and feels that men are! destined for eternity, and what aspect j will it wear if not that of the valley of vision, through which the prophet Eze- kiel was commissioned to pass 1 On all sides are the remains of mighty be- j ings, born for immortality, but disloca- ted by sin. Can these be men, creatures fashioned after the image of God, and constructed to share his eternity] What disease hath been here, eating away the spiritual sinew, and consum- ing the spiritual substance, so that the race which walked gloriously erect in the free light of heaven, and could hold communion with angels, hath was- ted down into moral skeletons, yea, disjointed fragments, from which we may just guess its origin, whilst theyi publish its ruin ? It is not that men arej the spectres, the ghosts, of what theyj were, as made in the likeness of GodJ and with powers for intercourse withj what is loftiest in the universe. Thejj have gone beyond this. It is in theiij spiritual and deathless part that thejj i have become material and lifeless: ill is the soul from which the breath ol i heaven has been taken : and the soul deprived of this breath, seemed turne( into a thing of earth, as though com pounded, like the body, of dust; auf dwindled away till its fibres were shri veiled and snapped, and its powers lay scattered and enervated, like bone; where the war has raged and the wind; have swept. It may indeed seem like ascribing what is corporeal to spirit and forgetting the very nature of the soul, thus to speak of man's iuiperish able part, as we would of his body THE RESURRECTION OF DRY BONES. 309 when resolved into its elements. But I so benumbed, and every capacity so the very thing of which we accuse closed, in regard to the high things of man, is that, by his apostacy, he has eternity, that we should be as much assimilated the soul to the body; he forced to pronouce them the mere ske- has so buried the immaterial in the I letons of immortal beings, as to pro- .' ( material, the half deity in the half dust, that we know him not as the compound of the ethereal and the earthly, but as all flesh, just as though the inortal had crushed and extinguished the very principle of immortality. And, there- fore, do we describe him, in his moral capacity, by terms which, in their strict import, apply to him only as formed out of matter : " a spirit," said Christ, " hath not flesh and blood ;" but never- theless we may speak of the soul as wasted into a skeleton, and then of that skeleton as broken into fragments, because it may be declared of the whole man, that he '' is of the earth, earthy," that he has become, in his every respect, as though made of the corruptible, and resolvable into it. We declare then again, that, if this globe be taken as the valley of vision, it is strewed with bones, as though countless armies had been slain, and their bodies left unburied. We declare of any narrow section of this valley, which God may set us specially to ob- serve, that, if not filled with the re- mains of slaughtered thousands, it is occupied by souls " dead in trespasses and sins;" that there are, on the right hand and on the left, enervated pow- ers, and torpid energies, and extin- guished affections, which belonged ori- ginally to an immortal spirit, but which now serve only to remind us of such a spirit, as the confused relics in a char- nel-house can but remind us of the hu- man form. Ay, if the Spirit of the liv- ing God were to enable us to inspect this assembly, as it enabled the pro- phet to take the survey of the valley, we know that we should find in it, spiritualljr considered, a vast mass of wasted strength, and withered fibre, and broken muscle; evidences as irre- sistible of souls that have long lain dead, as were the bones which had no fl.esh without and no marrow within, of bodies lonsf since decomposed and dis- solved. We know that, with all that elasticity and activity which the un- converted amongst you can display, when the objects of sense solicit their pursuit, we should find every faculty claim them only the fragments of men, were Ave to see what might be left from the gnawings of the grave. And, if we had nothing to judge by but the appa- rent probability, so little ground would there be for expecting the resurrection of these souls, and their re-endowment with the departed vitality, that if, after wandering to and fro through the val- ley, and mourning over the ruins of what had been created magnificent and enduring, there should come to us, as to the prophet, the voice of the Al- mighty, " Son of man, can these bones liveV our answer could be only the meek confession of ignorance, " O Lord God, thou knowest." But we go on to observe that the parable is not more accurate, as deli- neating our condition by nature, than as exhibiting the possibility of a resto- ration to life. It might have seemed a hopeless and useless thing, that Eze- kiel should prophesy to the dry bones in the valley ; and if the souls which we desire to convert, be, as we have described them, actually dead, it may appear a vain thing to preach, and thus to deal with them as though they were the living. But the prophet did not he- sitate ; his commission was clear ; and he allowed not unbelief to withhold him from addressing the inanimate piles by which he was surrounded. Neither are we to be deterred by the lifelessness of the parties on whom we have to act ; the command is positive ; we are to preach the Gospel to those of whom we believe that they are spiri- tually in the grave, and to say to them, Avithout any wavering because they seem unable to hear, "Awake, thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light." And we bless God that, however weak and inefficient, to all appearance, the instru- mentality employed, there is often the same result as followed the prophesy- ing of Ezekiel ; as the dry bones were stirred, so are the dead souls also start- led. It cometh frequently to pass, more frequently, it may be, than shall be known till all secrets are laid bare at the great day of judgment ; that, when 310 THE RESURRECTION OF DRY BONES. the minister of Christ is launching the thunders of the word, or dilating, with all persuasiveness, on the provision which has been made for the repentant, a sound is heard, if not by men, yet by the attendant angels who throng our sanctuaries ; the sound of an agitated spirit, moving in its grave-clothes, as though the cold relics were mysterious- ly perturbed. The prophesying goes on in the valley of vision ; and there is a shaking amongst the bones, as close appeals are made to the long torpid conscience, and the motives of an af- ter state of being are brought to bear upon those who are dead in their sins. And then may it be said that bone com- eth unto bone — the different faculties of the soul, which have heretofore been disjointed and dispersed, combining into one resolve and effort to repent and forsake sin — and that sinews and flesh knit together, and clothe the bones, the various powers of the inner man being each roused to its due work ; so that, as there appeared before the prophet the complete human body in exchange for the broken skeleton, we have now a spirit stung with the con- sciousness of its immortality, where we had before the undying without sign of animation. But this is not enough. There may be conviction of sin, and a sense of the necessity that some great endeavor be made to secure its forgiveness ; and thus may the soul, no longer resolved into inefficient fragments, be bound to- gether as the heir of eternity ; yet there may not be spiritual life, for the soul may not have been quickened with the breath which is from heaven. There is a great difference between the man Avho is not caring for salvation at all, and another who has been stirred to anxiety, but nevertheless has not sub- mitted himself to the teachings of the Holy Ghost. The former has only the skeleton, the naked and broken frame- work of a soul; whereas in the latter there has been the compacting and clothing the anatomy. Yet the one may not have spiritual life any more than the other. He may execute some of the motions of a living thing, and not be actually resuscitated; as such a power as galvanism might have caused the limbs of the bodies, which thronged suddenly the valley of vision, to stir as with life, though there had been no vi- tal principle. Accordingly, the parable does not end with the formation of the perfect body, figurative as that was of the reconstruction of the soul into a being aware of its immortality; it pro- ceeds to the animating the body, and thus to the representing the quicken- ing of the soul. The prophet is com- manded to prophesy unto the wind, and then breath comes into the bodies which he had seen succeed the scat- tered bones. This part of the parable is expressly interpreted as denoting the entrance of God's Spirit into the house of Israel, that they might live ; and we therefore learn the important truth, that, whatever the advances which may be made towards the symmetry and features of a new creature, there is no- thing that can be called life, until the Holy Ghost come and breathe upon the slain. And we have to bless God that, in this part also, the vision is continu- | ally receiving its accomplishment. We preach the word unto these bones; we say unto them, " ye dry bones, hear the word of the Lord!" We preach it in the belief, that, though there seem j no organ of hearing, God can procure 1 it admission where he designs it to ( be effectual; and accordingly there is often, as we have told you, a shaking amongst the bones; and souls which i had heretofore seemed sepulchred in matter, arise as if elastic Avith im- mortality, and eagerly inquire, " What must we do to be saved 1" But this is not necessarily conversion; this may be only conviction; after a few strug- glings and heavings, what we had look- ed upon as revived may relapse into insensibility. It would do so, if the Spi- rit of the living God were not to enter as the breath of the soul. But it does thus enter ; and the '' dead in trespass- es and sins" stand upon their feet, and " run with patience the race set before them." It is the special office of the Holy Ghost to open the graves in which sinners lie, and to animate the moral corpse, so that the dead are " born again." There would be no use in our prophesying upon the bones, if there were not this divine agent to revivify the buried : we might indeed go down into the sepulchres, and gather together the mouldering remains of humanity, and compound them into a body, and then, ri THE RESURRECTION OF DRY BONES. 311 as by the strange power of electricity, work the limbs into a brief and fearful imitation of the livingr thino- : but the active and persevering wrestler for the prizes of eternity, oh ! the Spirit of God must be in every member of this creature, and in every nerve, and in every muscle; and let that Spirit only be taken from him, and presently would you observe a torpor creeping over his frame, and all the tokens of moral death succeeding to the fine play of the pulses of moral life. To the Spirit, then, of God we refer exclusively that work of resuscitating dead souls, which was represented in vision to the prophet Ezekiel. We say to every one of you, that, if he have not this spirit, it is not his being awake to the fact of his having a soul, it is not his admission of a system of ortho- dox divinitj'-, it is not his membership with an apostolical church, it is not his diligent performance of a certain set of duties, which can assure us that he lives — we read in the book of Revela- tion of some who had a name that they lived, and yet were dead — all this may prove nothing more than the binding of bone to bone, and the covering them with flesh, so that the ghastliness of the skeleton has been exchanged for the comeliness of the perfect body. Unless you are actuated by the Holy Ghost as your vital principle, feeling and obeying his motions, depending on his influences, laboring in his strength, we are bound to tell you that you are duped by the worst jugglery ever prac- tised on a rational creature ; the dead is made to pass for the living, and the fantastic movements of an image are mistaken for the free soarings of an in- telligent being. But there is one respect in which the vision, as thus interpreted, appears not to be thoroughly accomplished. We carry on our prophesying over the heaps of dry bones; and now and then there may be produced the effects of which we have spoken : a solitary sin- ner arises from his lethargy, and sets himself to the working out salvation. But what is there in any one district of the valley; nay, what is there in the combined districts of the valley, sup- posing that valley to include the whole earth; which answers to the starting up of '" an exceeding great army V In the valley which Ezekiel traversed, such was the result of his prophesying. On the right hand and on the left, be- fore and behind, the bones stirred as if instinct with life, and the seer was quickly encompassed by rank upon rank of the children of the resurrec- tion. What would be the parallel to this, if, at this moment, and in this place, the parable were to be spiritual- ly fulfilled l It Avould be, that, if there be still amongst you the tens, or the fifties, or the hundreds, of souls sepul- chred in flesh, these tens, or these fif- ties, or these hundreds, would be rous- ed by the announcement of wrath to come, and spring into consciousness that they have been born for eternity ; so that, however, at the commencement of our worshipping, the dry bones had been scattered profusely amongst us, at its close the whole assembly would be one mass of lil''e, and no individual would depart, as he came, " dead in trespasses and sins." It would be — we dare not expect so mighty a resuscita- tion, and yet days shall come when even nations shall be " born in a day," — that whatsoever is human within these walls would bear traces of a new creation, and man, woman, child, be ''alive unto God" through Christ Jesus their Lord. And if the spiritual fulfil- ment were efTected throughout the whole valley of vision, we should be living beneath the millennial dispensa- tion, in that blessed season when all are to know the Lord " from the least to the greatest," and the knowledge of his glory is to fill the earth, " as the waters cover the sea." In exchange for the millions who now sit in darkness and the shadow of death, buried in su- perstition and ignorance, we should have the universal population of this globe rejoicing in acquaintance with Christ, and bringing forth the fruits of righteousness to his praise. And what though the valley be still full of dry ] bones, life having only here and there j entered into the funeral piles 1 a thou- I sand prophecies centre in the future, i all assuring xis of fi spiritual resurrec- , tion, general as will be that, when sea, ( and mountain, and desert shall give up i their dead. It seems tlie representation i of these prophecies, that Christianity { shall not advance, by successive steps, to universal dominion, but that a time 312 THE RESURRECTION OF DRY BONES. of great depression, yea, almost of extinction, shall immediately precede that of unlimited sovereignty. When Isaiah calls to the prostrate Jerusalem, "Arise, shine, for thy light is come," he adds, " Behold, the darkness shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the people" — thus intimating, that, at the very moment of the restitution of all things, a deeper than the ordinary night shall rest on the nations of the world. And, therefore, may it be that the as- pect of the globe, as the day draws on of its glorious renovation, will be more than ever that of the valley of vision, ere the prophesying commenced, and the skeletons moved. Ezekiel might be brought from his rest, and set down in the midst of the valley ; and he would still have to say that the bones were very many, and very dry. But the Lord's arm will not be " shortened that it cannot save :" suddenly, when there might appear least likelihood of a shak- ing amongst the countless heaps, shall a vivifying energy go out through the length and the breadth of the slain population. " The dead shall hear the voice of the Son of man, and they that hear shall live." Every where shall the process be rapidly carried on of the bones being combined into the skele- ton, and covered with the flesh, and animated by the Spirit, till the whole earth shall ring with the tread of the " exceeding great army." This will be the perfect accomplishment of the pro- phetic vision. When every nation, and tribe, and tongue, shall have cast its idols '' to the moles and to the bats ;" when the religion of Christ shall have extirpated every superstition, and shrined itself in every heart ; then shall there be a moral resurrection commensurate with the marvellous quickening of the dead on v\?hich Eze- kiel gazed : the spiritual sepulchres will be emptied, and the almost quench- ed immortality be every where re-il- lumined. Yet though the parable, when moral- ly interpreted, be thus now receiving a partial, and expecting a plenary, ac- complishment, who can doubt, that, in its literal import, it had respect to that resurrection of the dead which will precede the general judgment 1 We regard the parable as one of those few portions of the Old Testament from which might be inferred the resurrec- tion of the body. The illustrating by the imagery of a resurrection, was al- most the inculcating the doctrine of a resurrection. And, whether thus un- derstood or not by the Jews, we may safely affirm that, to ourselves, the whole transaction in the valley of vis- ion should present, under figures of ex- traordinary energy, man's final coming up from the dust of the earth. The trumpet of the archangel shall prophe- sy over the dry bones: its piercing blast shall say, '' ye dry bones, hear the word of the Lord." Who can tell the shaking that shall follow this pro- phecy — the earth heaving at its very core, that myriads upon myriads may burst from its womb] Then shall be the coming of bone unto bone: myste- rious announcement! the dust shall seek its kindred dust ; and though the elements of the body may have been dispersed to the four quarters of the earth, yet will they re-assemble, so that every man shall have his own. And then shall there be a prophesying to the souls in the separate state, as well as to the bones in the sepulchres. The souls shall know that the moment of reunion has arrived, and rush down to possess their reconstructed taberna- cles. Then, when the whole man lives again, and the buried generations, from Adam to the last-born of his line, have put on immortality, " the exceeding great army" shall march to judgment. We cannot follow them — the eye is blinded by the interminable multitude, and the ear deafened by the tramp of the countless millions. But we shall be there, every one of us shall be there, to augment the crowd, and swell the thunder. O God, breathe now on the dry bones, that none of us be here- after amongst those who shall awake "to shame and everlasting contempt." Again and again we prophesy upon the dry bones. We are not deterred by the apparent hopelessness. We i have often prophesied in vain. There has been no shaking amongst the bones. Numbers have come unconverted, and numbers have gone away unconverted. But we will execute our commission i once more, and, that this time it may ' startle and agitate the dead — " let the wicked forsake his way, and the un- righteous man his thoughts, and let photestantisji and popery. SU him return unto the Lord ; and he 1 our God, for he will abundantly par- will have mercy upon him ; and to | don." SERMON IV PROTESTANTISM AND POPERY If it be possible, as much as lielh in you, live peaceably with all men." — Romans, 12 i IS. In one of those touching' addresses which Christ delivered to his disciples shortly before his crucifixion, he be- queathed them, as you will remember, the legacy of peace. " Peace I leave with you ; my peace I give unto you : not as the world giveth, give I unto you." It is observable that the peace, thus left us by Christ, is emphatically his peace ; "my peace I give unto you" — and accordingly, we have a petition in our litany, "O Lamb of God, that takest away the sins of the world, grant us thy peace." Though bearing the ti- tle of the Prince of Peace, we know that Christ said in regard of himself, "Think not that I am come to send peace on the earth 5 I am not come to send peace, but a sword." Hence it may be inferred that the peace, which may be called Christ's peace, that which Christ bequeathed and for which we pray, is not a peace which is neces- sarily to banish all divisions, but which is rather to subsist in the midst of di- visions. The peace which Christ en- joyed as the founder of Christianity, and which he may be regarded as in- tending when he spake of his peace, resulted from a consciousness that he was doing the will of God, and pro- moting the good of man. It was an in- ternal rather than an external peace: for without were wars and fightings, the opposition of avowed enemies, and the coldness and suspicion even of friends. Kis peace, therefore, was not peace with those around. There was charity, full and fervent charity, to- wards men most vehement in their en- mity; but, at the same time, there was an unflinching exposure of their faults, and a determined opposition to their practices. We may safely declare of Christ, that he never purchased peace by any thing like compromise. Though his heart overflowed with love towards the whole human race, he was far from being indulgent to their sins; on the contrary, he was too much their friend to be any thing but the stern reprover of their vices. Hence he had peace of conscience, rather than of condition: he indeed desired, and labored for both ; but living in the midst of a sin- ful and perverse generation, he could not be at peace with mankind, save by leaving them unrebuked ; and this would have been to purchase quiet by neglecting duty. The church, there- fore, may thoroughly possess the lega- cy of peace bequeathed to her by Christ, and yet have no concord with the great mass of men. It may even be bound on her to do much by which, to all appear- ance, divisions will be fomented : for if she would imitate Christ, and thus en- joy his peace, she mCist be bold in de- nouncing every error, and never think that true brotherhood can be main- tained by compromising principles. It is unquestionably her business to fol- low after the things '' that make for 4-0 314, PROTESTANTISM AND POPEEY. peace ;" but she is to take special care, lest, in her eagerness to prevent dis- cord, she sunender truth, and ward off separations by unwarrantable sacrifices. Now the words of our text may be said to contemplate exactly that peace which may thus be regarded as be- queathed to us by Christ. The apostle enjoins as a duty, that we strive to live peaceably with all ; but plainly in- timates that it would be difficult to do so, or perhaps even impossible. He in- troduces two restrictive clauses, " if it be possible," and, '' as much as lieth in you :" the latter implying that there were cases in which it would be a christian's own fault if disunion en- sued ; the former, that, probably, no amount of diligence and care could in- sure the universal harmony. It would seem, indeed, from the context of the verse, that St. Paul refers not so much to schisms in the visible church, as to differences and quarrels between man and man. But a rule, designed for the guidance of christians in their indivi- dual, must be applicable also in their collective capacity. If it be the duty of every member of the church, so far as in him lies, to live peaceably with others, it must undoubtedly be the du- ty of the church, as a body, to do all in her power towards promoting union and preventing schism. In each case, however, there may be a point at which separation becomes unavoidable ; and therefore are the words, " if it be pos- sible," prefixed to the precept. In the instance of an individual, the conduct of others may be so injurious and op- pressive, that, with every disposition to concede, and the greatest patience under wrong, it may be absolutely ne- cessary to shun intercourse, and even to adopt measures for self-defence. In the instance of a church, the tenets of some of her professed members may be so inconsistent with truth, or their practice so opposed to the Gospel, that to retain thenn in her communion would be faithlessness to her Master. Or a church, in her collective capacity, may grievously depart from the faith " once delivered to the saints:" she may in- troduce unsound doctrines, or supersti- tious observances: and then may it be the duty of those of her members, who are still zealous for " truth as it is in Jesus," to protest firmly against the abomination, and finally to dissolve their union with that church, if she will not put from her the falsehood and idolatry. The main thing to be borne in mind, is, as we have already intimated, that peace is too dearly purchased, if pur- chased by the least surrender of prin- ciple. That unity deserves not the name, which is produced by the reso- lution of avoiding, by mutual conces- sions, all differences in opinion. On points which are not fundamental much may be done by mutual concessions : and they must have much to answer for, who have torn and divided the vi- sible church, when the matter in de- bate has been one of mere ceremony, or, at least, one involving nothing of indispensable truth. We doubt whe- ther the mass of those, who, in mo- dern days, have introduced sects and divisions amongst christians, could prove, in vindication of their conduct, that they had implicitly obeyed the di- rection of our text. It might be hard to show, if the grounds of separation were rigidly exannined, that the impos- sible point had been reached, the point, that is, at which, if union be preserved, fundamental truth must be compro- mised. It should then only be impos- sible to a christian to live peaceably, when, to avoid schism, he must toler- ate fatal error. And if separatists can- not make good their separation on this simple principle, their failing to live peaceably is not to be sheltered under the first clause of our text : it must rather vindicate itself by the second, "as much as in you lieth;" and then there is a question which none but God can decide, how far the infirmity, which caused unnecessary division, was sinful, and how far unavoidable. But whatever may be determined in regard of any particular case of an in- fraction of peace, the general rule, al- ready stated, is manifestly correct, that whatever is not fundamental should be given up for the sake of peace; but that there must be war and separation, if, in maintaining peace, we have to compromise truth. We admit indeed that there will be difficulty in applying this rule ; for since the Bible nowhere divides doctrines into those which are fundamental, and those which are not, there may be difference of opinion as to PROTESTANTISM AND POPERY. 315 the class to which a certain truth be- longs, and, therefore, also doubt as to whether it should be enforced at the risk of a schism. But if Scripture have not made a division of its truths, there are some which manifestly belong to the very essence of Christianity ; whilst others, though full of worth and in- struction, are as manifestly subordi- nate, and fill a lower place in the chris- tian economy. There are points on which difference of opinion may be safely permitted, and others on which unanimity is indispensable. There can, for example, be no sufficient reason for breaking the bond of peace in the mat- ter of predestination ; the members of a church may abide in perfect harmo- ny, though some hold, and others do not, the doctrine of personal election. But if the debated point be the divinity of Christ, or the impossibility of justi- fication except through his merits, there must be unanimity, at whatever cost obtained. Christianity is nothing if these points be denied ; and there- fore must a christian church, if it would not forfeit its character, separate boldly from all by whom they are re- jected. It might justly be expected from us, under ordinary circumstances, that we should examine, in greater detail, and with more precision, where the point lies at which peace can be preserved only by com'^romising principle. But the occasion requires us to speak with peculiar reference to Popery and the English Reformation. And I, for one, am glad to avail myself of the. opportu- nity. I cannot put away the persuasion, that there has been amongst protest- ants a growing ignorance and indiffer- ence with regard to points in dispute between the Reformed Church and the Papal ; and a strengthening opinion that the two, after all, differ in little that is vital. And this degeneracy of protestantism has given encouragement to popery; so that the false system, against which our fathers rose man- fully up, and in expelling which they perilled substance and life, has been putting forth tokens of strength and expansion. If this be true, great and manifest is the need, that you be re- minded of your privileges, and warned against "the man of sin ;" and I could not feel justified in neglecting an op- portunity of addressing you specifical- ly as protestants. Now we have selected our text in preference to many which might seem more appropriate, because we consider that every point, on which it is import- ant that your minds be strengthened or informed, is involved in the ques- tion, can we, as disciples of Christ, live peaceably with Rome 1 " If it be possi- ble," saith the apostle, " as much as in you lieth, live peaceably with all men." Apply this rule to a church ; and then, as we have shown you, it undoubted- ly demands that there be nothing of schism or separation, so long as prin- ciples are not sacrificed for the sake of keeping peace. It warrants us in no- thing that can be called a rending of the visible church, if we cannot prove that we have reached the point at which union is no longer possible ; at which, that is, if union be preserved, it must be at the expense of conscience, and with mortal injury to truth. And therefore our text requires us, if we would vindicate any separation — such, for instance, as that of the English church from the Roman — to prove, by most rigid demonstration, that separa- tion had become absolutely a duty ; and that, if it had been avoided in order to preserve peace, there would have been a surrender of the principles of the Gospel of Christ. Thus we are thrown on examining the reasons which led our forefathers to break off commu- nion with the Roman catholic church, and which justify our own refusal to give to that church the right hand of fellowship. We need hardly observe that these reasons cannot be expound- ed, save by a statement of the doctrines of popery, as contrasted with those of protestantism ; so that, in proving to you that the Reformation involved no disobedience to the precept of our text, we shall inform or remind you of those great points of difference which sepa- rate between our own church and the papal. It will be well, however, that before entering on the inquiry thus suggested, we take notice of the com- mon accusation, that we were guilty of schism at the Reformation, and conti- nue chargeable with this guilt, so long as we return not into the bosom of the Roman catholic church. We shall, therefore, make it our business to en« 316 PROTESTANTISM AND POPEEY. deavor, in the first place, to show you that there was no schism, properly so called, in our separation from Rome ; in the second place, to prove to you that the separation was demanded, and is still justified by the corruptions of Rome. Now it is one of the great doctrines of popery, as you must all be aware, that the pope, who is the bishop of the Roman church, is the head also of the universal church of Christ, so that he is vested with supreme authority over all bishops and pastors in every sec- tion of the earth. This pretended su- premacy of the pope we utterly reject ; declaring that it can find no syllable of vindication in the Bible, and maintain- ing it to be a modern and insolent as- sumption, of which no trace can be found in the early ages of Christianity. The Bible no where hints that there was to be such an universal head of the church as the pope professes to be ; and centuries elapsed before the bishops of Rome discovered, that, as St. Peter's successors, they had right to this universal lordship. We contend, therefore, against the doctrine of pa- pal supremacy as utterly unsanctioned, whether by Scripture or antiquity ; and Ave maintain that the pope could have had no power, except by usurpation, over the branch of Christ's church es- tablished in this land. He indeed claim- ed a power, and, during the long night of ignorance, the claim was conceded. But we utterly deny that he had right to any power, because we utterly deny that, as bishop of Rome, he was vest- ed with authority over other parts of Christ's church. Whatever his sway in his own district, England was no part of that district ; and if England, in her ignorance, had given him pow- er, England, when better taught, did but justly in withdrawing that power. Hence there was nothing which, with the least show of justice, could be call- ed schism, in the separation of the Eng- lish church from the Roman. There might have been schism, had the doc- trine of Roman catholics been true, that the pope is the universal head of the church ; for then would the re- formers have withdrawn an allegiance which they were required to yield, and detached themselves from the visible body of Christ. It is another question, what would have been their duty un- der such circumstances; we now only state that, before the charge of schism, properly so called, can be substantia- ted, popery must be proved true, in the article of the universal headship of the pope ; for unless this be true, there could be nothing schismatical in England's refusing to acknowledge any longer the authority of the Roman bi- s|iop, and re-establishing the suprema- cy of her own king in all causes, ec- clesiastical and civil. And we need not say that we are not much troubled with the accusation of schism, so long as it cannot be made good till popery have been proved true. It is somewhat bold to call us schisma- tics, when the name takes for granted what we contend against as false, that the Roman Catholic Church includes the whole visible. And we wish you to observe, that there were no spiritual ties which necessarily bound together England and Rome. We were not in- debted to Rome for our Christianity. Whatever may be thought of the opi- nion which has been supported with great learning and ability, that St. Paul himself preached the Gospel in Britain, and ordained a bishop here before there was any in Rome ; so that the Anglican Church would be older than the Ro- man; it is, at least, certain that Chris- tianity made its way into these islands at a very early period ; and that, when the missionaries of Rome first visit- ed our shores, they found a christian church already established, a church whose bishops refused submission to the pope, though, in process of time, that submission was yielded. On Avhat principle, then, is it to be maintained, that the English church Avas so inte- gral a portion of the Roman, that there could be no separation without the guilt of schism'? The English church had been independent, governed by its own officers, and having no connection but that of a common brotherhood with other parts of Christ's visible body. And Rome came down upon it in sub- tilty and pride, putting forward arro- gant claims, and asking to be receiv- ed as supreme in every ecclesiastical cause. The times were those in which moral darkness and mental were fast pervading the earth, and which there- fore favored the bold pretensions of ii J PROTESTANTISM AND POPERY, 317 ambitious and unprincipled pontiffs. And no marvel, if England yielded with the rest of Christendom ; so that a church, founded in apostolic days, and owing no allegiance to any foreign power, joined in the false, though al- most universal, confession, that the pope wastthe vicegerent of Christ, en- dowed with unbounded authority over every ecclesiastical section. But at length God mercifully inter- posed, and raised up men with power and disposition to examine for them- selves, and with intrepidity to proclaim ithe result of their searchings. In one country after another of Europe arose those who had prayerfully studied the Bible, and who were too zealous for truth, too warm lovers both of God and of man, to keep silent as to an assumption which Scripture did not sanction. And England was not with- out her worthies and champions in this great and general struggle for eman- cipation. There were those amongst her children who felt that she crouch- ed beneath a yoke which God had not ordained, and who, therefore, summon- ed her to rise, and reassert her inde- ipendence. And when she hearkened .to the call, and rose up in the majesty jof a strength which still commands iour wonder, and shook from her the jyoke of papal oppression, declaring ithat the Roman Pontiff had no author- jity within her coasts — what did she do ibut resume a power which ought never ■to have been delegated, and resist a ;:laim which ought never to have been admitted 1 In the season of ignorance, Hvhen all Europe bent to the spiritual j'.yrant, she had made herself subject to che bishop of Rome ; and, therefore, in che season of greater knowledge, when ?he joined other lands in daring to be free, she did nothing but take what !vas inalienably her own, what she had i)arted with in blindness, but what, all he while, could not lawfully be sur- rendered. We can admit then nothing in her separation from the Roman bhurch which approximates to schism. i5he had committed a grievous error, |is a church, in acknowledging the bope's supremacy ; but there could be iiothing like schism in her correcting he error, and denying that supremacy. A.nd there may be employed all the esources of casuistry on this matter. the partisans of Rome laboring to brand the reformers as schismatics j but un- til it can be proved, proved from Scrip- ture and the early fathers, that there is no other church but the Roman, and that the head of this church has been ordained of God to be supreme through- out Christendom in every ecclesiasti- cal matter, it will never be proved that our ancestors in the sixteenth century would have been justified in continuino- allegiance to the pope ; never there- fore, that, in transferring that allegi- ance to their own anointed king, they were unmindful of the precept, "If it be possible, live peaceably with all men." Now we have endeavored to set this fact under the most simple point of view, .because it is easy to involve it in mystery and perplexity. The act, by which we separated from the church of Rome, and by which, therefore, if by any, we are guilty of schism, was the act by which we denied that the pope had any authority whatsoever in this kingdom. It was not, strictly speaking, by our denouncing image worship, by our denying transubstan- tiation, by our rejecting the mediation of angels and saints, that we ceased to be a part of the Roman church : that which made us a part of this church was the acknowledging the pope as the ecclesiastical head ; and that which dis- solved our union with this church, was the refusing to continue such acknow- ledgment. Had the Roman church been free from all the corruptions to Avhich we have referred, holding no errone- ous doctrine but that of papal supre- macy, separation would still have been a duty : there would still have been the usurpation of our monarch's pow- er by the pope, and it could not have been schism to restore that power to its right owner. But we will now wave the question of schism : we have to examine, in the second place, the chief points of dif- ference between the reformed church and the Roman, that you may be re- minded of the reasons of protestants for refusing peace with papists. We formally separated from Rome, as we have just explained, by refusing to ac- knowledge the supremacy of the pope : but it was chiefly by rejecting cer- tain doctrines and observances, and by standing up for truth in opposition to 318 PROTESTANTISM AND POPERY. error, that we became emphatically a reformed church, and gained the ho- norable title of protestants. We do not deny, and this we must state clearly before entering on the errors of Rome, that the Roman ca- tholic church is a true and apostolic church — her bishops and priests deriv- ing their authority, in an unbroken line, from Christ and his apostles. Accord- ingly, if a Roman catholic priest re- nounce what we count the errors of popery, our church immediately re- ceives him as one of her ministers, re- quiring no fresh ordination before she Avill allow him to officiate at her altars, though she grants not the like privi- lege to other claimants of the ministe- rial office. If his ordination be not, in every sense, valid, neither is our own : for if we have derived ours from the apostles, it has been through the chan- nel of the Roman catholic church ; so that, to deny the transmission of au- thority in the popish priesthood since the reformation, would be to deny it before ; and thus should we be left with- out any ordination which could be tra- ced back to the apostles. Hence there is no question, that, on the principles of an Episcopal church, the Roman catho- lic is a true branch of Christ's church, however grievously corrupted and fear- fully deformed. It is a true church, in- asmuch as its ministers have been duly invested with authority to preach the word and dispense the sacraments : it is a true church moreover, inasmuch as it has never ceased to " hold the head, which is Christ," and to acknowledge the fundamental truth of our religion, that Jesus, God as well as man, died as a propitiation for the sins of the world. And all this was distinctly recogni- zed by the reformers of the English church, whatever it may have been by those of other countries. They made no alteration in the constitution of the church : they saw in the Roman catho- lic church the true foundation and framework of a church ; but they saw also that on this foundation had been laid, and into this framework had been woven, many and gross errors, which were calculated to destroy the souls of its members. And it was to the work of removing these errors that they stren- uously gave themselves — not wishing to meddle with the foundation, or to 1 j destroy the framework ; but simply to take away those human inventions and superstitious observances, beneath Avhich genuine Christianity was almost hidden, or rather almost buried. And so blessed were they of God with sin- gular discretion, as well as courage, that they achieved the noble result of a church holding all that is apostolic in doctrine, without letting go one jot of Avhat is apostolic in government. They achieved the result, the only result at i ; which, as reformers, they could law- ^ fully aim, of making the church, both in creed and in discipline, what the ' church had been in primitive times;', removing from it whatsoever had not the sanction of Scripture and antiquity, and retaining whatsoever had. And' thus there sprang from their labors what might literally be called a reform- ed church — not a new church, as is more strictly the name of many of those which bear the title of reformed — but a reformed church, the old, the origi- nal church, stripped of those incrus- tations, and freed from those pollu- tions, which had fastened upon it dur- incr a long night of ignorance. Theirsj was the work of renovating an ancienti cathedral, majestic even in decay, pre-l senting the traces of noble architec-i ture, though in ruins on this side, and' : choked with rubbish on that. They did not attempt to batter down the walls, and plough up the foundations, of the venerable edifice, and then to erect on the site a wholly modern structure. They were better taught, and better di- rected. They removed, with the great- est carefulness and diligence, the coat- ing from the beautiful pillars which men had daubed with " untempered mortar;" and they swept away but- tresses which did but disfigure, with- out sustaining the building; and, above all, they opened the windows which ig- norance, or superstition, had blocked up ; and then the rich light of heaven came streaming down the aisles, and men flocked to its courts to worship the one God through the one Mediator, Christ. And therefore, as we would again tell you, Avere they the reform-; ' ers, and nothing more than the reform- ers of the church. You sometimes heai or read of the fathers of the English church, the name being given to the PROTESTANTISM AND POPERY. 319 •eformers. But the name is most false- ly applied. The fathers of the English :hurch are the apostles and those apos- ;olic men, who lived in the early days )( Christianity, and handed down to us .vhat was held as truth, when there vvere the best means of ascertaining ind defining it. We acknowledge no nodern fathers: it were to acknow- edge a modern birth. We claim to be he ancient church: we fasten on the ioman catholic the being the modern — he modern, not in constitution, for herein we have both the same date, ind that date apostolic ; but the mo- lern in a thousand innovations on renuine Christianity — Christianity as )reached by Christ and St. Paul — chris- ianity as exhibited by the writers of ihe first four centuries of the church. , But it is here that we reach the gist jtf the question : we must set before S'ou certain doctrines held by the Ro- [nan church, and denounced by the re- lormed ; or state particulars in which he two differ with regard to the same irticle of faith. I We have referred already to the pre- tended infallibility of the Roman church, Ind shall only farther say, that Rome nust give up this doctrine ere there jan be peace : it has no foundation in Icripture, for St. Paul addresses the |ioman church as liable to err : it is jontradicted by facts, for different jopes and councils have decreed op- posite things ; and it is dangerous and eadly, as giving the divine sanction D every error which an ignorant mor- iil may adopt, and to every practice !/hich a vicious may enjoin. We pro- 3St, next, against the Romish doctrine if justification, declaring it unscriptu- ^al, and therefore fatal to the soul, i'his doctrine is, that our own inherent •istice is the formal cause of our justi- Ication : the Council of Trent having Ironounced any one accursed, who hould say that men are justified, ei- ler by the imputation of Christ's righ- .jousness alone, or only by the remis- |ion of sins ; or who should maintain I liat the grace by which we are jnsti- |ed is the favor of God alone. And as jj merit, which is closely associated ierewith, a famous cardinal has deliv- j-ed this noted decision, " A just man lUh, by a double title, right to the me glory ; one by the merits of Christ imparted to him by grace, another by his own merits."* Can we, without treachery to the souls of men, be at peace with Rome, whilst she inculcates tenets directly at variance with those which are the essence of Christianity, that we are "justified freely by God's grace," "through faith," and "not of works;" and that "the gift of God is eternal life, through Jesus Christ our Lord]" We protest further against the Romish doctrine of the insufficiency of what we receive as the canonical Scrip- tures, of the authority of the Apocry- pha and of traditions. The papists hold, according to the decrees of the same Council of Trent, that there is not expressly contained in Scripture all necessary doctrine, either concern- ing faith or manners : we reject the tenet as blasphemous, seeing that a curse is pronounced by the Bible on all who shall add to it, or take from it ; and thus God's Spirit hath decided the sufficiency of Scripture. The papists receive the apocryphal books as ca- nonical : the voice of antiquity is a- gainst them, the internal evidence is against them, and we protest against the reception, because we know that the apocryphal books may be brought in support of doctrines which we re- pudiate as false, and of practices which we deprecate as impious. And as to traditions, of which the Council of Trent decreed, that they must be re- ceived with no less piety and vene- ration than the Scriptures, they may- be mightily convenient for papists, be- cause a precept can be produced with the authority of a revelation, whenev- er a falsehood is to be made current for truth : but we utterly reject these unwritten traditions, because, at best, they are impeachments of the sufficien- cy of Scripture, and because they afford every facility for the establishment of error under the seeming sanction of God. But this is not all : our protest yet extends itself on the right hand and on the left. The papists maintain, that, in the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, there is a conversion of the whole sub- stance of the bread into Christ's body, and of the whole substance of the wine into his blood. This is their doctrine * Bellarmine, quoted by Bishop Hall. 320 PKOTESTANriSJI AND POPERY. of transubstantiation. Against this doc- trine we protest, not only because there is a contradiction to our senses, for taste, and touch, and sight assure us that the consecrated bread is still bread, and the consecrated wine still wine 5 but because it overthrows the truth of Christ's humanity : it makes his body infinite and omnipresent : it makes that body to be on the earth, when Scripture declares it to be in heaven ; and if it thus interfere with the fact of Christ's humanity, affect- ing vitally the truth of his being a man like ourselves, how can we admit it without destroying the Gospell The papists further hold in regard of the Lord's Supper, that therein is offered to God a true, proper, and propitiato- ry sacrifice for the living and dead, so that the priests, daily ministering, make a fresh oblation of the Son of God to the Father. This is what is styled the sacrifice of the mass : we reject it as unscriptural, for we know that " Christ was once offered to bear the sins of many ;" we reject it as impious, be- cause Christ, as the great High Priest, offered up himself, and no inferior priest might present so illustrious a victim. Neither is it in this respect only that the papists interfere with the mediato- rial office of Christ. What is to be said of the invocation of angels and saints 1 The Romish Church declares, accord- ing to the creed of Pius IV. that " the saints who reign with Christ are to be venerated and invoked, and that they offer prayers to God for us." Nay, has not the present pope, in a letter circu- lated amongst the clergy of his church, styled the Virgin ]\Iary his greatest confidence, even the whole foundation of his hope 1 And shall Vi^e not protest against a church, and that, too, vehe- mently and incessantly, shall we make peace with a church which thus, dis- guise and varnish and extenuate as you will, exalts sinful mortals to a partici- pation in the great office of .Tesus, in- troduces virtually a long train of inter- cessors, and thus demolishes the migh- ty and life-giving truths, that there is ■' one mediator between God and man," and that, "if any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous 1" We must go further. We must not hesitate to charge the I Roman church with idolatry ; though ' many, who have often sworn solemnly i to their belief that its practices werei idolatrous, now hold such opinion to be the offspring of nothing but igno- rance and illiberality. The Council of Trent decreed, that the images and re- lics of Christ and the saints are to be^ duly honored, venerated, or worship- j ped : and no one who has visited Ro- man catholic countries can be ignorant - how faithfully the decree is obeyed. We call this idolatry. O no, is the re- tort : the worship is not rendered to the image, but only to the being whom the image represents. Be it so : this; is nevertheless idolatry. The Israel-i ites when they bowed before the gol- den calf, professedly designed to wor-' ship the true God, not the image ; but'i they were slain with a great slaughter,! as impious idolaters. Besides, this is' mere subterfuge : the image itself is worshipped. Else, why has one image a greater sanctity than another 1 Why are pilgrimages to be made to our La- dy's chapel at Loretto, rather than to any other chapel of our Lady, except that the Virgin's image in the one is more precious and powerful than thai in the other 1 and if it be thus thoughi that there is a virtue resident in the image, of what use is it to say that thf image is reckoned nothing, and re ceives no honor 1 The second com mandment is broken, distinctly and fla grantly broken, by the Roman catho lies: and as worshippers of the on( true God, who has declared himsel " a jealous God," vi'e protest against ; church which enjoins that incense bi burnt, and prayers made, before ima ges ; and we demand of her that sht sweep from her temples the " silve and gold, the work of men's hands,' ere there can be place for our obeyins the precept of St. Paul, " If it be pes sible, live peaceably with all men." And what shall we say morel fo the time would fail us to tell of muUi plied sacraments ; of the cup denied t the laity, though Christ said to hisdi- ciples, "drink'^ye all of it;" of indul gences, 'impiously imagined deceits whereby men may be delivered froi purgatory, a place which exists onl in their own fancies and creeds ; of th distiuctions between venial sins an mortal, fine wire-drawn subtilties, coi « PROTESTANTISM AND POPERT. 321 trary to the scriptural definitions of sin, and calculated to lull men's con- sciences to sleep in the midst of their crimes; of penances which are merito- rious, of relics which are miraculous; of the shutting up the Bihle from the common people ; of prayers in an un- known tongue ; of fastings which have no authority in revelation, and of pro- hibitions Vi/hich necessarily lead to li- centiousness. We will not say that there is the same degree of error in each of the particulars thus rapidly , enumerated ; nor that the error, where- i soever it exists, is equally fundamental i and fatal. But we can confidently af- i firm that there is cause, in each case, I for the protest of every lover of pure i Christianity ; that in none can the er- t ror be deemed harmless ; yea, that in i none can it be shown other than full I of peril to the soul. And whatever j may be your opinion on one or another I point of difference between the church- l es, we may safely refer it to the deci- jsion of every upViolder of scriptural ) truth, whether the catalogue which iwe have given of Roman Catholic er- Irors and corruptions, does not justify I the reformers in having commenced, land ourselves in continuing, separation jfrom the disciples of popery I We have I shown you doctrines completely coun- iterto that of justification by faith, as- jcribing a strength to man's powers, and la worth to his actions, which would jalmost prove him competent to the I saving himself. We have brought be- Ifore you tenets irreconcilable with !the truth of the Redeemer's complex jperson, whicli assail his office as Me- diator, and strip his propitiation of ipower by representing it as daily re- Ipeated. We have told you of violence Idone to the sanctity of revelation by jthe honor given to human fable and [tradition, of idolatrous worship, of ex- Itenuated sin, and of authority, impi- (ously assumed, to remit the punish- jments and dispense the rewards of futurity. And this is popery. This is popery, not as libelled, and maligned, und traduced by sworn foes, but as de- scribed, and defined, in its own autho- rised and unrcscinded documents. This is popery, the religion against which, '■ jif you will believe modern liberalism, i lit is little better than bigotry to object, ; jand which approaches so nearly to protestantism, that a little mutual ac- commodation might remove every dif- ference, Yes, it may approach nearly to pro- testantism, hut only to protestantism as it exists in days of indifference and ! heartlessness, and for which the far truer name were infidelity. Not the protestantism of Luther, and Cranmer, and Ridley, and Hooper, and all the noble army of martyrs. Not the pro- testantism of the worthies of the pur- est days of Christianity. Not the pro- testantism of the holy fathers of the church. Not the protestantism, we are bold to use the expression, of Christ and his apostles. Yes, the protestant- ism for which we contend, and which we declare as incapable of alliance with popery as the east of junction Avith the west, is the protestantism of Christ and his apostles. The reformed religion is no novelty : if it can be proved a day younger than Christ and his apostles, away with it from the earth as a per- nicious delusion. It was no invention of Luther and his fellow-laborers. The Roman catholics indeed would taunt us with the recent origin of our faith,, as though it had sprung up in the six- teenth century, whilst their own is hal- lowed by all the suffrages of antiquity. There was never a more insolent taunt, and never a more unwarranted boast. Ours, as we, have already intimated, is the old religion, theirs is the new. Ours is, at least, as old as the Bible; for it has not a single tenet which we do not prove from the Bible. But theirs must be younger than the Bible ; for where in the Bible is the Bible said to be insufficient, and where is the pope declared supreme and infallible, and where is sin divided into mortal and venial, and where are the clergy forbidden to marry, and where are im- ages directed to be worshipped, and where is the cliurch intrusted with the granting indulgences'? There is not a solitary article of protestantism, in support of which we are not ready to appeal to the canonical Scriptures, and the writings of the early fathers; there arc a hundred of popery, which papists themselves are too wise to rest on such an appeal. Thej^ may ask us, where was your religion before Luther 1 and our reply is, in the word of the liv- ing God, in the creeds of apostles and 41 32'2 PROTESTANTISM AND POPERY. apostolical men, and in the practice of those witnesses, who, in every age, re- fused to participate in the abominations of Rome. But we ask them, where was your religion before such or sueh an as- piring pontiff put forth such or such a doctrine or claim'? We challenge the documents. We fix the doctrine of the papal supremacy to the sixth century — let them prove it older if they can ; of seven sacraments to the twelfth centu- ry — let them prove it older if they can; of transubstantiation to the thirteenth century — let them prove it older if they can. And yet protestantism is the spu- rious manufacture of a late date, whilst popery is the venerable transmission from the first year of the christian era. Yes, all that is true in popery has been transmitted from the earliest days of Christianity : but all that is true in po- pery makes up protestantism. Popery is protestantism mutilated, disguised, deformed, and overlaid with corrupt additions ; protestantism is popery re- stored to its first purity, cleansed from false glosses, and freed from the rub- bish accumulated on it by ages of su- perstition. We recur then to our former asser- tion, and declare that the protestantism for which we contend as irreconcil- able with popery, is nothing else than the protestantism of Christ and his apostles. And the protestantism of Christ and his apostles can have no peace with popery. We would, if pos- sible, " live peaceably with all men," and, therefore, with the Roman church. But it is not possible. We cannot sur- render justification by faith. We can- not muilipiy mediators. We cannot bow down before images. M'e cannot believe bread to be ilesh, and wine to be blood. We cannot ascribe to a falli- ble man the unerring wisdom of the one living God. And, therefore, it is not possible. No ; if popery regain its lost power, let it not be through our giving it the right hand of fellowship. Let it wrest back ecclesiastical endow- ments ; let it rekindle the fires of per- secution ; let it be legislated into might by time-serving concessions ; but never let us be silent, as though we thought popery to be trutli ; never supine, as though we counted its errors unim- portant. A righteous ancestry felt the impossi- sie bility of peace with Rome ; and though they could wage the war only at the I risk of substance and life, yet did they i manfully throw themselves into the struggle j for far dearer to them was I " truth as it is in Jesus," than wealth, ' or honor, or the quiet comforts of home ; and seeing that this truth was disguised or denied, they could not rest till it was fully exhibited, and bold- ly proclaimed. Their ashes are yet in our land ; our cities and villages are haunted by their memories; but shall it be said that their spirit hath departed, and that we value not the privileges purchased for us by their blood 1 Chil- i dren as we are of men who discovered, j and acted on the discovery, that to re- j main at peace with Rome were to offer ? insult to God, we will not prove our ; degeneracy by lapsing into an alliance j which they abhorred as sacrilegious. \.\ The echo of their voices — trumpet- i tongued as they w^ere, so that, at the i piercing call, Europe shook as with an }; earthquake — still lingers on our moun- tains and in our valleys ; still is it sylla- bling to us that popery is the predicted apostacy of the latter times ; still is it discoursing of Rome as the mystic Babylon of the Apocalypse, and reiter- ating the summons, " Come out of her, my people, that ye be not partakers of i her sins, and that ye receive not of her plagues." Thus it is reminding us — though, if there were no such echo, there is speech enough in reason, i speech enough in revelation — that, ini separating from the Romish church, we are not forgetful of the duty of en- deavoring to keep "the unity of Spirit in the bond of peace ;" but that, in re- fusing communion with that church, and requiring her to renounce her abo- minations ere we will keep back our protest, we obey to the utmost the pre- cept of the apostle, "If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men." Now we have been the more ready to embrace an opportunity of bringing protestantism before you in contrast with popery, because we believe that the Roman catholic religion has been rapidly gaining ground in this country. There must be great inattention to what is passing on all sides, if any o.' you be unaware that popery is on the increase. It is easy to meet statementsi h %\ PROTESTANTISM AT^D POPKET. 323 in regard to the growing number of papal chapels and colleges, by saying that the growth is but proportioned to the growth of population, and therefore does not indicate any influx of prose- lytes. Of course, a reply such as this is of no worth, except as borne out by facts ; and we thoroughly believe, that, the more carefully you examine, the more you will find that there is a greater growth of Popery than you had right to expect from the growth of po- pulation. When you have made due allowance for the increased numbers in Roman catholic families, there will be a large surplus, only to be referred to a successful system of proselytism. It should suffice to convince you of this, to observe, as you easily may, that Roman catholic chapels are rising lin neighborhoods where there is no [Roman catholic population; and that, lin cases where the chapel has been j reared, in hopes that a congregation [would be formed, the hopes have' not [been altogether falsified by the event. What are we to say to this ] Men would indeed persuade you that the enlarged intelligence of the times, the jdifTusion of knowledge, and the in- ' crease of liberality, are an ample se- curity against the revival, to any great lextent, of a system so absurd and re- Ipulsive as popery. But they quite for- ;get, when they hastily pronounce that ■popery has no likelihood of being re- ivived in an enlightened age, that it is temphatically the religion of human na- jture ; and that he, who can persuade 'himself of its truth, passes into a posi- ition the most coveted by the mass of jour race, that in which sin maybe com- {mitted, with a thorough security that its consequences may be averted. We find no guarantee against the reinstate- ment of popery, in the confessed facts of a vast outstretch of mind, and of a general developement of the thinking faculties of our people. It is an axiom [With us, that people must have some kind of religion ; they cannot so se- pulchre their immortality, that it will never struggle up, and compel them to think of provision for the future. And when a population shall have grown 'vain of its intelligence, and proud of its knowledge ; when, by applying uni- versally the machinery of a mere men- tal education, and pervading a country with literature rather than with Scrip- ture, you shall have brought men into the condition, too possible, of those who think it beneath them to inquire after God ; then, do we believe, the scene will be clear for the machina- tions of such a system as the papacy. The inflated and self-suflicient genera- tion will feel the need of some specific for quieting conscience. But they will prefer the least spiritual, and the least humiliating. They will lean to that, which, if it insult the understanding, bribes the lusts, and buys reason into silence by the immunities which it pro- mises. It is not their wisdom which will make them loathe popery. Too wise to seek God prayerfully and hum- bly in the Bible, they will be as open to the delusion which can believe a lie, as the ignorant to the imposition which palms off' falsehood for truth. They will not want God, but a method of forgetting him, which shall pass at the same time for a method of remem- bering him. This is a definition of popery, that masterpiece of Satan, con- structed for two mighty divisions of humankind, the men who would be saved by their merits, and the men who would be saved in their sins. Hence, if a day of great intellectual darkness be favorable for popery, so may be a day of great intellectual light. We may as well fall into the pit with our eyes dazzled, as with our eyes blindfolded : ignorance is no bet- ter element for a false religion than knowledge, when it has generated con- ceit of our own powers ; and intellect, which is a defender, when duly ho- nored and emploj'^ed, becomes a be- trayer, when idolized as omnipotent. You are told moreover, and this is one of the most specious of the deceits through wh'c'i popery carries on its work, that the Roman catholic religion is not what it was ; that it took its complexion from the times; and that tenets, against which protestants loud- ly exclaim, and principles which they indignantly execrate, were held only in days of ignorance and barbarism, and have long since fled before the advance of civilization. And very unfair and un- generous, we are told, it is, to rake up tlie absurdities and cruelties of a rude and uninformed age, and to charge them on the creed of men in our own 324, PEOTESTANTISBI AND POPERY. generation, who detest them as cor- dially as ourselves. Be it so. : we are at all events dealing with an infallible church: and unless the claim to infal- libility be amongst the things given up, we are at a loss to know how this church can so greatly have changed; how, since she never goes wrong, she can renounce what she believed, and condemn what she did. And the Ro- man church is not suicidal enough to give up her claim to infallibility ; but she is sagacious enough to perceive that men are willing to be deceived, that an excess of false charity is blind- ing them to facts, and that there is abroad amongst them such an idolatry of what they call liberal, that they make it a point of honor to believe good of all evil, and perhaps evil of all good. Of this temper of the times, is the Roman church, marvellously wise in her generation, adroitly availing her- self: and so well has she plied men with the specious statement that she is not what she was, that they are rather covering her vvilh apologies, for their inconsiderate bigotry, than thinking of measures to resist her advances. But there is no change in popery. The sys- tem is the same, intrinsically, inherent- ly the same. It may assume difTerent aspects to carry different purposes, but this 13 itself a part of popery : there is the variable appearance of the chame- leon, and the invariable venom of the serpent. Thus in Ireland, where the theology of Dens is the recognized text-book of the Roman catholic clergy, they will tell you, when there is any end to be gained, that popery is an im- proved, and modified, and humanized thinfT : whereas, all the while, there is not a monstrous doctrine, broached in the most barbarous of past times, which this very textbook does not uphold as necessary to be believed, and not a foul practice, devised in the midnight of the world, which it does not enjoin as ne- cessary to be done. Make peace, if you Avill, with popery, receive it into your senate, shrine it in your churches, plant it in your liearts; but be ye certain, certain as that there is a heaven above you and a God over you, that the po- pery thus honored and embraced, is the very popery that was degraded and loathed by the holiest of your fathers, the very popery — the same in haughti- ness, the same in intolerance — which lorded it over kings, assumed the pre- rogatives of Deity, crushed human li- berty, and slew the saints of God. O that England m.ay be convinced of this, before taught it by fatal experi- ence. It may not yet be too late. She has tampered with popery : in many respects she has patronized popery, giving it, by her compromises and con- cessions, a vantage-ground which it» best wishers could hardly have dared to expect ; but, nevertheless, it may not yet be too late. Let protestanis only awaken to a sense of the worth of their privileges, privileges so long en- joyed that they are practically forgot- ten, and this land may remain, what for three centuries it hath been, the great witness for scriptural truth, the great •centre of scriptural light. There is al- ready a struggle. In Ireland especially, popery so wrestles with protestantisra that there is cause for fear that false- hood will gain mastery. And we call upon you to view the struggle in its true light. It is not to be regarded as a struggle between rival churches, each desiring the temporal ascendency. It is not a contest for the possession of tithe, for right to the initre, for claim on the benefice. It is a contest between the Christianity of the New Testament, and the Christianity of human tradition and corrupt fable — a contest, therefore, whose issue is to decide whether the pure Gospel shall have footing in Ireland. There is, there will be, a struggle j and our counsel to you individually is, that you examine well the tenets of protestantism, and possess yourselves of the grounds on which it is impossi* ble that we live peaceably with Rome. If you belong to a reformed church, acquaint yourselves with the particu- lars in which the reformation consist- ed, that you mny be able to give rea- sons for opposition to popery. And when convinced that they are not un- important points on which protestants differ from papists, let each, in his sta- tion, oppose the march of popery, op- pose it by argument, by counsel, by ex- hortation, by prayer. " Watch ye, stand fast in the faith, quit you lilfe men, be strong." By the memory of martyrs, by the ashes of confessors, by the dust of a thousand saints, we conjure you to be stanch in defence of your religion. lit lin h (ill 1^ CHRISTIANITY A SWORD. 325 The spirits of departed worthies, who witnessed a good confession, and count- ed not their lives dear, so that truth might be upheld, bend down, one might think, from their lofty dwelling-place, and mark our earnestness in defending the faith " once delivered to the saints." O, if they could hear our voice, should it not tell them, that there are j^et many in the land, emulous of their zeal, and ea- ger to tread in their steps; ready, if there come a season big with calamity, to gird themselves for the defence of protestantism in her last asylum, and to maintain in the strength of the living God, that system which they wrought out with toil, and cemented with blood'? Yes, illustrious immortals ! ye died not in vain. Mighty group! there was lit up at your massacre a fire in those realms which is yet unextinguished ; from father to" son has the sacred flame been transmitted : and though, in the days of our security, that flame may )/.ive burnt with diminished lustre, yet let the watchmen sound an alarm, and many a mountain top shall be red with the beacon's blaze, and the noble vault of your restinof-place grow illumined with the flash. Repose ye in your deep tranquillity, spirits of the martyred dead ! We know something of the worth of a pure Gospel, and a free Bi- ble : and we will bind ourselves by the name of Him "who liveth and abideth for ever," to strive to preserve unim- paired the privileges bequeathed at such cost. The spirit of protestantism may have long lain dormant, but it is not extinct : it shall be found, in the hour of her church's peril, that there are yet bold and true-hearted men in England, who count religion dearer than substance ; and who, having re- ceived from their fathers a charter of faith, stained with the blood of the ho- liest and the best, would rather dye it afresh in the tide of their own veins, than send it down, torn and mutilated, to their children. SERMON V. CHRISTIANITY A SWORD ' Think not that I am come to send peace on earth : I came not to send peace, but a sword." MaUhew, 10 : 34, When Isaiah predicted the birth of Messiah, "the Prince of Peace" was lone of the titles which he gave to the icoming deliverer. When angels an- nounced to the shepherds that Mes- siah was born, they sang as their cho- rus, " Glory to God in the highest, [and on earth peace, good will towards ■men." At first sight, there scarcely ^ecms to be thorough agreement be- tween such a prediction, or such an mnouncement, and the declaration which Christ makes, in our text, with 'egard to his mission. Is it " the Prince of Peace," the being whose entrance upon earth was hailed by the heavenly hosts as insuring peace to mankind, who proclaims that he had not come to send peace; but that, as though he were the warrior, all whose battles are "with confused noise, and garments rolled in blood," he had come to send a sword 1 Let it be observed at once, though your own minds will anticipate the remark, that it is common in Scrip- ture to represenljka person as doing that of which he may indeed be the occa- sion, but which is not efTected by his >2o CHaiSTIANITY A SWORD. own will or agency. Sometimes, in- deed, the action is ascribed to an indi- vidual who has not even been its occa- sion, whose only connection with the result has been the announcing that it should surely come to pass. Thus God sa^'s to Jeremiah, " See, I have this day set thee over the nations, and over the kingdoms, to root out, and to pull down, and to build, and to plant." Un- doubtedly the prophet had no part in the demolition of our empire, and the aggrandizement of another. He was no agent in effecting the revolutions which he was commissioned to predict. All that he did was to proclaim a com- ing destruction, or a coming exaltation ; and then he is said to have wrought what he merely announced. You are moreover aware that the Bible often ascribes to God's author- ship, what can only be referred to his permission; so that the Almighty seems represented as interfering to cause re- sults, which we are bound to conclude that he simply allows. It cannot, there- fore, excite surprise, for it quite con- sists with the ordinary phraseology of Scripture, that Christ should apparent- ly announce, as the purpose of his mis- sion, a result produced only by human perverseness. There can be nothing more easy of demonstration, than that the Gospel is a message of peace, that Christianity is a system which, cordial- ly received and fully obeyed, would dif- fuse harmony and happiness through all the world's families. And if it once be acknowledged that it is the design and tendency of the religion of Jesus to unite in close brotherhood, by unit- ing in the fellowship of " one faith and one baptism," the tribes and house- holds of our race, there is an end of all debate on the fitness of appropriat- ing to the Savior the name " Prince of Peace ;" and we must search elsewhere than in the nature of the christian dis- pensation, for reasons why the sword, rather than the olive-branch, is ascend- ant upon earth. We lay it down then as a position whose justice will be readily admitted,- that our text announces a result, and not the design, of the introduction of Christianity. Our Lord declares of himself, that he ca*ie not to send peace ; but we are, notwithstanding, assured that he had left the throne of his glory in order to reconcile this creation to God, and restore friendship between man and his Maker. We must conclude, therefore, that he is not speaking of the object of his mission, but only of the operation of a fatal and perverting power, resident in the crea- ture, by which the greatest blessing may be turned into a curse. Christiani- ty, in its own nature and tendencies, may be emphatically peace : but Chris- tianity, as clashing with corrupt pas- sions, may be practically a sword, which, wounding and devastating, brings injury, and not benefit, to thou- sands. Plence, knowing by his pre- science that disastrous consequences, chargeable altogether upon man, would follow the introduction of Christianity, our Lord, who had come to send peace, might declare that he had come to send a sword — the only sense in which* he sent the sword, being that of pub- lishing doctrines which would excite the animosities of our nature against holiness and God. But there are sundry inquiries sug- gested by our text, besides that of the sense in which the sending of the sword can be referred to him who in came to send peace. We have intro- ksi duced our subject with the foregoing | m remarks, in order to remove misappre- fei hension as to the true cause of evils, which all must both observe and la- ment. We shall indeed see more clear- ly in the sequel whence these evils originate. But it is sufficient, at the outset of our discourse, to have shown summarily the imfairness of charging the consequences on the Author of Christianity ; any blessing, whatever its beauty and brightness, may be abused by the recipient : but assuredly, when turned into an instrument of mischief, it is only in its original goodness that it can be ascribed to the Creator, and in its injuriousness wholly to the crea- ture. This being premised, we design, in the first place, to consider our text as a prophecy; examining how Christ's words have been verified, and meeting such objections to the plan of God's dealings as the subject seems likely to suggest. We shall then endeavor, in the second place, to point out specifi- cally the causes which have turned into a sword that, which, in its own nature, ^^j is emphaticallj'' peace. mi ic.i h CHRISTIANITY A SWORD. 327 Now you must all be familiar with the melancholy truth, that, from its first publication, Christianity has been the occasion of discord and blood- shed. We might, perhaps, have been prepared to expect, that, whilst Chris- tianity strove to make head against the Avorld's superstitions, and to dethrone heathenism, which had long held an undisputed sway, the passions and pow- ers of interested millions would be ex- cited against its preachers. It was quite natural, that, when there was published a religion at war with every other then dominant and approved, fierce efforts should be made to crush, by crushing its advocates, a system whose esta- blishment must be the downfall of those which a long ancestry had be- queathed, and which every lust felt in- terested in upholding. Seeing that the worst passions of humanity had so much at stake, it might fairly have been calculated that so vast a revolu- tion as that of the Roman empire ex- changing paganism for, at least, nomi- nal Christianity, would not be effected without great private dissatisfaction, if (not political disturbance. Accordingly, las we all know, persecutions of the most fearful description assailed the ; infant religion, designing, and almost jeffecting, its extinction. And when Sa- tan, battling for an empire which it was the professed object of Christianity to wrench away, sent forth all his emis- saries, and stirred up all his agents, in iOrder that, if possible, the very name of |the crucified might be banished and jlost, there was exhibited a spectacle ;which bore out to the letter the pre- diction of our text. They who traced ithe causes of massacres which devas- itated cities and provinces, and found that the christian religion had occa- Isioned such outbreaks of violence, must have felt that Christ had spoken vvords as true as they were awful, when declaring that he had come, not to send peace, but a sword, on the earth. It was, however, as we have already *tated, fairly to have been expected, !iat, ere heathenism could be nation- ally displaced, and Christianity substi- uted, there would be such public con- . ulsion as would bring distress and Icath on many of the professors of >ur faith. 'Ihe prophecy becomes not inlooked for in its fulfilment, until Christianity had gained ascendency, and kingdoms professed themselves evangelized. It might have been sup- posed — at least until the principles of Christianity had been narrowly sifted — that, when the religion became pro- fessedly that of all the members of a community, the sword would be sheath- ed, and peace be the instant produce of sameness of faith. But alas, the persecutions by which paganism strove to annihilate Christianity, are more than rivalled in fierceness by those of which christians have been, at once, the authors and objects. The darkest page in the history of mankind is per- haps that on which are registered the crimes that have sprung from the reli- gious differences of Christendom. It were a sickening detail, to count up the miseries which may be traced to these differences. Our very children are fa- miliar with the history of times when Europe shook as though with an earth- quake, and when a haughty and tyran- nical church devoted all to execration and death Avho dared to think for them- selves, or to take the Bible as their standard of faith. Our own land be- came a battle-plain, on which was car- ried on the struggle for religious free- dom ; heresy, as the bold confession of truth was insolently termed, marked out thousands of our forefathers for the stake or the scaffold. In this did Christianity differ broadly from those false systems of theology which had been set up in the long night of hea- thenism ; these systems were tolerant of each other, because, whatever their minor differences, they had the same mighty errors in common : but popery opposed itself to protestantism as ve- hemently as paganism had done to Christianity ; for, though both confess- ed Christ as a Mediator, the agreement of the two systems was as nothing to their separation on grand and funda- mental tenets. It is, then, but too true, that Christi- anity has been a sword to Christendom itself. The prophecy of our text has registered its fulfilment in the blood of the multitudes who, at various times, have been immolated on the altars of bigotry and ignorance. And if one of that angelic hosl which thronged the firmament of Bethlehem, and chanted of " peace on earth, good will towards S28 CHRISTIANITY A SWORD. men," had taken the survey of Chris- tendom, when persecution was at its height, and the Romish hierarchy, backed by the king's and great ones of the earth, hunted down the revivers of apostolic doctrine and discipline, we may doubt whether he would have poured forth the same rich melody ; whether, if left to frame his message from his observation, he would have announced that Christ had come to send peace, in the face of so tremen- dous a demonstration, that, practically at least, he had come to send a sword. But you are not to suppose that the prediction of our text is accomplished in no days but those of intolerance and persecution. We learn, from the suc- ceeding verse, that Christ specially re- ferred to the family disturbances which his religion would occasion. " For I am come," saith he, " to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against' her mother, and the daughter-in-law against her mother-in- law." Here we have a prophecy, whose fulfilment is not limited to a past gene- ration, but may be found every day in our own domestic histories. We live in times — and we are bound to thank God for the privilege — when the pro- fession of that religion, which we be- lieve to be true, exposes to no public danger, when the sword sleeps in its scabbard, and magistracy interferes with men's worship only to protect. But we cannot, nevertheless, be igno- rant that there is a vast amount of pri- vate persecution, which, as laws do not prescribe, neither can they prevent; and that the introduction of genuine piety into a household is too frequent- ly the introduction of discord and un- happiness. It may have fallen within the power of many of us to observe, how the peace of a family has appa- rently been broken up by religion; how its members, amongst whom there may have heretofore circulated all the charms of a thorough unanimity, have become divided and estranged, when certain of the number have grown care- ful of the soul. The making a profes- sion of religion is often considered tantamount to actual rebellion ; and then the announced result is literally brought round — the parents beino- set against the children, and the children against the parents. And over and above the disunion thus unhappily in- troduced into households, it were idle to deny that piety is still exposed to much of harassing opposition, so that, although persecution no longer wears its more appalling forms, it is not pos- sible to make bold confession of Christ, without thereby incurring obloquy and wrong. The cooling of friendship, the withdrawing of patronage, the misre- presentation of motives, the endeavor to thwart, and turn into ridicule — for all these must the man be prepared, who, 'in our own day, acts out his Christianity; and he who should think that he might turn from worldliness to piety without losing caste, and aliena- ting many who have loved and assisted him, would show that he had neither studied the character of our religion, nor gathered the testimony of experi- ence. And whilst it can thus be main- tained that the profession of that god- liness which the Gospel enjoins, serves to break the closest links of associa- tion, dividing into almost irreconcila- ble parties those who have heretofore been as one in all the intercourses of life, it cannot be denied that Christian- ity is still a sword, rather than a peace- maker upon earth ; and that, whatever it may effect in days yet to come, the breaches which it now occasions in all ranks of society, attest that Christ spake as a true prophet when he utter- ed our text. There is no necessity that, in exhi- biting the present fulfilment of the pre- diction, we pass from Christendom to the still broad domain of heathenism. It is undoubtedly a result of every mis- sionary enterprise which makes head against idolatry, that deep and fierce ,_,. passions are roused by its success. •■t Those members of a tribe who embrace Christianity, become objects of the in- veterate hostility of those who adhere to the superstitions of their fathers. Thus is there acted over again, in the circumscribed neighborhood of a mis- sionary settlement, something of that awful drama which once had the Ro- man world for its theatre. Heathenism still struggles to put down Christianity, and idol-worshippers still regard as a personal enemy every convert from idolatry. Neither can we see reason to question, that, before any wide tract of paganism could become nominally J CHRISTIANITY A SWORD. 329 evangelized — we mean, of course, by the machinery of the present dispen- sation — so that the religion of Jesus should take the place of a degrading mythology, the worst passions of man- kind would be banded in the withstand- ing, and that too by perfidy and vio- lence, the exchange of falsehood for truth, of systems which patronize sen- suality for one which enjoins the liv- ing soberly and righteouslj'. And when Christianity had triumphed — triumph- ed, be it observed, against an opposi- tion resembling, in its vehemence, that which met our religion on its first pub- lication — there would occur, we may believe, all those private, but distress- ing persecutions, which we trace and deplore amongst ourselves; so that, in prevailing on a heathen empire to throw away its idols, and erect the cross as its standard, yon would have prevailed on it to receive into its families the fruitful source of dissensions, and to take as its portion the being rent into parties, whose variances must inter- : rupt, if not destroy, all the harmony of I society. Hence, it is still the melan- ' choly truth, that, in sending Christiani- ty, you send a sword into a land. Until there be ushered in a season when re- ligion shall take possession of every heart in an extended population, there iWill lie, to all appearance, an impossi- bility against the nominally evange- lizing that population, without, at the same time, dividing and disturbing it; ifor the cross, whilst introduced only ,into the creed of a multitude, will ex- ^cite their enmity against the few who give their afiections to Him who died ion it as a sacrifice. I But now we think it a question wor- thy the closest examination, whether, .since Christianity has all along proved ,a sword, the human race has been be- !nefited, in temporal respects, by its pro- pagation. We are not about to take in- to account the unspeakable advantages 'ivhich this religion has conferred, when jTian is viewed as the heir of immorta- 'ity. But there would be something so inlooked for in the fact, if it were fact, hat the amount of present happiness lad been diminished, or even not in- ■reased, by Christianity, that we have ight to demand stricter than ordinary [ roof, ere we receive it into our cata- I )gue of truths. And we have no hesi- tation in saying, that, in spite of its having been as a sword on the earth, Christianity has done more to elevate the character, diminish the wretched- ness, and augment the comforts of the nations who have received it as their faith, than was ever efiected by the best systems of heathenism, whilst left free to attempt the improvement of hu- man condition. We confess, of course, that much misery has been occasioned by the christian religion; and that, had this religion gained no footing in a land, there are many forms of disquie- tude which its inhabitants would have altogether escaped. Whilst Christianity acts as a sword, there will be Avounds, which, had there been no such wea- pon, would never have been inflicted. But the fair way of meeting the ques- tion is, to endeavor to strike a balance between the produced wretchedness and the produced happiness, and to de- termine on which side the preponder- ance lies. And we could not wish a finer topic of christian advocacy than that of the immense blessing which the religion of Jesus has proved to mankind, if viewed simply in their temporal capa- city. We are ready to keep futurity out of sight, with all its august and ter- rible mysteries. We will not meet the arraioner of Christianity on groundfrom which he must instantly be driven, th:\t of the revelation of immortality, which can be found only on the pages of Scripture. We will confine ourselves to the present narrow scene, and deal with man as though death were to ter- minate his being. And we do assert — and proofs unnumbered are at hand to make good the assertion — that the great civilizer of manners, the great height- oner of morals, the soother of the af- flicted, the patron of the destitute, the friend of the oppressed — this, from its first establishment, hath Christianity been ; and for this should it v/in the veneration of those who know not its worth, as the alone guide to man's final inheritance. We have only to contrast the most famous and refined of ancient nations with modern and christian, in order to assure ourselves, that, in all which can give dignity to our nature, in all which can minister to public ma- jesty and private comfort, to indepen- dence of mind, security of property, 42 330 CHRISTIANITY A SWORD. and whatsoever can either strengthen or ornament the frame-work of society, heathenism — great as may have been the progress in arts and sciences — must yield at once and immeasurably to Christianity. It is easy to upbraid our religion, be- cause it hath fulfilled its own prophe- cies, and proved itself a sword ; but what engine has been so efficient as this sword in accomplishing results which every lover of virtue admires, and every friend of humanity applauds 1 What hath banished gross vices from the open stage on which they once walked unblu shingly, and forced them, where it failed to exterminate, to hide themselves in the shades of a disgrace- ful privacy ] We reply, the sword Chris- tianity. What hath covered lands with buildings unknown in earlier and much- vaunted days, with hospitals, and infir- maries, and asylums] We answer, the sword Christianity. What is gradually extirpating slavery from the earth, and bringing on a season, too long delayed indeed, but our approaches to which distance incalculably those of the best heathen times, when man shall own universally a brother in man, and dash off every fetter which cruelty hath forged, and cupidity fastened! We an- swer unhesitatingly, the sword Chris- tianity. What hath softened the hor- rors of war, rendering comparatively unheard of the massacre of the unof- fending, and the oppression of captives'? What hath raised the female sex from the degraded position which they still occupy in the lands of a false faith 1 What hath introduced laws, which shield the weakest from injury, protect the widow in her loneliness, and secure his rights to the orphan 1 What hath given sacredness to every domestic re- lation, to the ties which bind together the husband and the wife, the parent and the child, the master and the ser- vant ; and thus brought those virtues to our firesides, the exile of which takes all music from that beautiful word home 1 To all such questions we have but one reply, the sword Chris- tianity. The determined foe of injus- tice in its every form ; the denouncer of malice, and revenge, and pride, pas- sions which keep the surface of society ever stormy and agitated ; the nurse of genuine patriotism, because the enemy of selfishness ; the founder and uphold- er of noble institutions, because the teacher of the largest philanthropy — I Christianity has lifted our fallen h manity to a moral greatness whi seemed wholly out of reach, to a sta' tion, which, compared with that occuJ pied under the tyranny of heathenis is like a new place amongst orders creation. And nothing is needed, in proof th we put forth no exaggerated stateme but that Christendom be contrasted wi countries which have not yet receiv Christianity. If you are in search of t attributes which give dignity to a stafc of the virtues which shed lustre a loveliness over families, of what magnificent in enterprise, refined in vilization, lofty in ethics, admirable jurisprudence, you never turn to a but an evangelized territory, in ordi to obtain the most signal exhibitioi And just in proportion as christian! now gains footing on a district of he thenism, there is a distinct improv( ment in whatever tends to exalt a ns tion, and bring comfort and respect bility into its households. If we couli but plant the cross on every mountai and in every valley, of this globe, pr vailing on a thousand tribes to cai away their idols, and hail Jesus Chri as " King of kings and Lord of lords, who doubts that Ave should have don infinitely more towards covering ou planet with all the dignities and deceiiii cies of civilized lif(3, than by centuriei of endeavor to humanize barbarisi without molesting superstition 1 W( are clear as upon a point which need no argument, because ascertained experience, and which, if not provei by experience, might be established b; irresistible argument, that, in teachin a nation the religion of Christ, we teac it the principles of government, whic will give it fixedness as an empir the sciences which will multiply th comforts, and the truths which wii elevate the character, of its population Thoroughly to christianize would bi thoroughly to regenerate a land. An< the poor missionary, who, in the sim plicity of his faith, and the fervor o his zeal, throws himself into the wast of paganism, and there, with no appn rent mechanism at his disposal for aJ terinar the condition of a savage com CHRISTIANITY A SWORD. 331 munity, labors ut making Christ known to idolaters — why, we say of this in- trepid wrestler with ignorance, that, in toiling to save the souls, he is toil- ing to develope the intellectual powers, reform the policy, and elevate in every respect the rank of the beings who en- gage his solicitudes. The day on which a province of Africa hearkened to his summons, started from its moral de- basement, and acknowledged Jesus as its Savior, would be also the day on which that province overstepped one half the interval by which it had been separated from civilized Europe, and went on, as with a giant's stride, to- wards its due place amongst nations. So that however true it be, that, in sending Christianity, you send a sword, into a land, we will not for a moment harbor the opinion, that Christianity is no temporal blessing, if received by the inhabitants as their guide to immortali- ty. It is a sword ; and divided fami- lies, and clashing parties, will attest the keenness and strength of the wea- pon. But then it is also a sword, whose bright flash scatters the darkness of ages, and from whose point shrink away the corruption, the cruelty, and the fraud, which flourished in that dark- ness as their element. It is a sword : and it must pierce to the sundering many close ties, dissect many interests, and lacerate many hearts. But to wave this sword over a land is to break the spell fastened on it by centuries of ig- norance ; and to disperse, or, at least, to disturb, those brooding spirits which have oppressed its population, and kept down the energies which ennoble our race. And, therefore, are we nothing iBoved by the accusation, that chris- ianity has caused some portion of nisery. We deny not the truth of the iharge : to disprove that truth would 16 to disprove Christianity itself. The Pounder prophesied that his religion vould be a sword, and the accomplish- :nent of the prophecy is one of our evi- dences that he came forth from God. 5ut when men would go farther, when hey would arraign christianitj'^ as hav- ng increased, on the whole, the sum 'f human misery, oh, then we have our ppeal to the splendid institutions of ivilized states, to the bulwarks of lib- rty which they have bravely thrown p, to the structures which they have reared for the shelter of the suffering, and to their mighty advancings in equi- ty, and science, and good order, and greatness. We show you the desert blossoming as the rose, and all because ploughed by the sword Christianity. We show you every chain of oppres- sion flying into shivers, and all because struck by the sword Christianity. We show you the cofl^ers of the wealthy bursting open for the succor of the des- titute, and all because touched by the sword Christianity. We show you the human intellect springing into man- hood, reason starting from dwarfish- ness, and assuming magnificence of stature, and all because roused by the glare of the sword Christianity. Ay, if you can show us feuds, and jealousies, and wars, and massacres, and charge them home on Christianity as a cause, we can show you whatsoever is con- fessed to minister most to the welfare, and glory, and strength, and happiness of societj^, stamped with one broad im- press, and that impress the sword Chris- tianity : and, therefore, are we bold to declare that the amount of temporal misery has been immeasurably dimin- ished by the propagation of the reli- gion of Jesus; and that this sword, in spite of produced slaughter and divi- sions, has been, and still is, as a gold- en sceptre, beneath which the tribes of our race have found a rest which hea- thenism knew only in its poetry ; a free- dom, and a security, and a greatness, which philosophy reached only in its dreams. But now, having examined our text as a prophecy, we are briefly to inves- tigate the causes which have turned into a sword that which, in its own na- ture, is emphatically peace. We shall not go particularly into the cases of heathenism persecuting Christianity, and popery persecuting protestantism. Neither shall we speak of the tumults caused by the various heresies which, at different times, have sprung up in the church. When men's passions, prejudices, and interests are engaged on the side of error and corruption, it is unavoidable that the advocates of truth and purity will array against themselves hatred and hostility. But we will take the more ordinary case, in which there is no open conflict be- tween theological systems and sects j 332 CHKISTIANITY A SWORD. for this is perhaps the only one in which it is at all strange that divisions should be the produce of Christianity. There is nothing about which men will not form different opinions : there is scarce an opinion too absurd to find advocates J especially when, if true, it Avould be advantageous; and philoso- phy^, with its various schools, would be as much a sword as Christianity with its various sects, if as much were dependent on its theories. But, wav- ing these and other obvious considera- tions, let us see how the sword comes, where there is no direct collision be- tween heresy and orthodoxy. We stat- ed, as you will remember, in the intro- duction of our discourse, that Christi- anity is a system, requiring nothing but cordial reception, in order to its bringing happiness to all the world's families. The truth of such statement will have been evidenced, if proof can be required, by our foregoing examina- tion of the effects of Christianity on so- ciety. We are warranted, by this ex- amination, in asserting, as we have already in part done, that, if the Gos- pel were cordially received by every individual in a land, there would be banished from that land — we say not all unhappiness, for a nation of righte- ous would still be a nation of fallen men, and therefore lie exposed to sor- row and death — but certainly the chief part of that misery which may be tra- ced to the feuds of our race, and which confessedly constitutes a great fraction of human wretchedness. The tenden- cies of Christianity are palpably to the production of thorough unanimity; so that no one who studies the character of this religion, or observes its effects even where partially established, can fail, we think, to entertain the convic- tion, that a nation of real christians would be virtually a nation of affec- tionate brothers. But if the tendencies of Christianity be thus to the produc- ing peace, we must suppose that there are in man certain counter tendencies, and that the sword is forged from the opposition between the two. Neither can we be at a loss to discover those counter tendencies, and thus to ac- count for the divisions and persecu- tions to which Christianity will be sure to give rise, even where men seem agreed on its articles. The great thing to be observed is, that there is a direct contrariety between the maxims of the world and those of the Gospel. It is impossible for a man to become a true believer in Jesus, without being imme- diately marked off from the great mass of his fellows. If the whole community- went over with him to the discipleship of Christ, he would still have fellow- ship with all around, though Avidely different from that which he has here- tofore had. But Avhen he goes over alone, or with but few associates out of many, he detaches himself, and that too by a great wrench, from the so- ciety to which he has belonged. Be- tween the world which still " lieth in wickedness," and that little company Avho '' seek a better country, even a heavenly,'' the separation is so broad that Scripture exhibits the one as the old creation, and the other as the new. The man who acts on the principle that he is immortal, belongs, we had almost said, to a different race from the man whose conduct seems to pro- claim him without belief in the death- lessness of the soul. And if .Christianity, when cordial- ly received, thus detach the recipient from all by whom it is only nominal- ly received, you can have no difficulty in understanding how it acts virtually as a sword. The separation would bt as nothing, if it were only of thai kind which exists between the differ ent ranks and classes of a community You cannot liken to a sword the cause; which separate the higher classes fron the lower, because these classes, how ever distant from each other in exter nal advantages, are linked by manj ties ; and their relative positions di not necessarily produce hostility o feeling. But the case is widely differ ent when it is vital Christianity whici breaks into parties any set of men The separation is a separation on priu ciples ; so that the conduct of the oni party will unavoidably reprove that o the other, and, therefore, excite an en mity which will be sure to show itsel in some open demonstration. We take the case before referred to that of a family, one of Avhose mem hers is a christian inwardly, whilst th others are christians only outwardly There may have been perfect harmony in this family up to the time at which vi CHRISTIANITY A SWORD. 333 tal Christianity gained a place within its circle. But, afterwards, there must, we fear, be interruption of this harmony ; the household can no longer present that aspect of unanimity, by which it once won the admiration of every be- holder. And the reason of this change may be readily defined. Whilst there was nothing but nominal Christianity, each member of the family did his part towards countenancing the rest in at- tachment to the perishable, and forget- fulness of the imperishable, and was upheld in return by the united pro- ceedings of all those around him. There may have been great diversity of pur- suit ; the several individuals may have embraced different professions, and their respective tastes may have led them to seek enjoyment in uncon- nected channels. But forasmuch as they were all along one in the de- termination of finding happiness in something short of God, division upon earthly matters might well consist with a most cordial union, the agreement be- ing perfect on the principle that this world is man's rest, and the disagree- ment being only as to which of its sec- tions should be chosen for a home. But you will observe that, when vital Christianity found its way into the breast of one member of this house- hold, there must have passed a change, such as nothing else could have ef- fected, on the position which he occu- pied relatively to the others. His ac- quiring a taste for religion, while the taste of his companions is exclusively for what is worldly, differs widely from his acquiring a taste for music, whilst the taste of his companions is exclu- sively for painting. The taste for paint- ing is not rebuked, as it were, by the taste for music; they may be called sister tastes, and the votaries of the two may remain in close fellowship. But there is no congeniality^ naj'', there is the strongest antipathy, between a taste for the things of heaven and a taste for the things of earth. Hence the religious man, unavoidably, though it may be silently, reproaches the ir- religious, with whom he is in habits of family intercourse. His deportment, exactly in the degree that it proves his affections set on things above, passes the severest censure on those whose affections are set on things below. And if it be a consequence on the in- troduction of vital Christianity, that one member of the domestic circle becomes practically, if not in words, the re- prover of the rest, it must also follow that this one will incur the dislike of the rest, a dislike which will show itself in more or less offensive acts, according to the dispositions and cir- cumstances of those who entertain it. Thus it is that Christianity is turned into a sword. Admitted into the heart of an individual, it discovers itself in his life, and so makes that life a calm, but unflinching, rebuke of the uncon- verted, by its contrast with their own. But such rebuke must excite enmity in those who are its subjects. So that the household is necessarily divided; and to Christianity must the division be ascribed. "A man is set at vari- ance against his father, and the daugh- ter against her mother, and the daugh- ter-in-law against her mother-in-law." The converted member, being secret- ly disliked, will, under some shape or another, be persecuted by the uncon- verted ; and thus the result is brought round, that the religion which Christ propagated, though in its own nature peace, becomes, through clashing with> opposing principles, a sword to the family into which it gains entrance. You will easily extend to a neigh- borhood, or nation, tjie reasoning thus applied to a family. Those who hold the doctrines of the Gospel in their purity, and whose con(j!uct is regulated by its precepts, will unavoidably form a distinct party, to which Christ's words may be applied, " If ye were of the world, the world Avould love his own ; but because ye are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore the world hateth you." The principles on which the righteous act are so repugnant to those which the mass of men adopt, that to look for unanimity would be to expect the con- cord of darkness with light. So long as there is a native enmity in the heart to holiness and God — and this will re- main until the nature be renewed — there lies a moral impossibility against the unbroken peace of a community, composed of the righteous and the un- righteous. They are men of different natures, of different worlds: the one party has been transferred to the king- 334 CHRISTIANITY A SWORD, dom of Christ, the other remains in the kingdom of Satan. And since there must be war between these kingdoms, a war which shall only then terminate when evil is expelled from this crea- tion, and the works of the devil are ti- nally destroyed, peace can pervade no province of Christendom, unless that province contain nothing but nominal, or nothing but vital Christianity. Whilst there is nothing but nominal Christiani- ty, there is peace, the peace of death; whilst nothing but vital, there is peace, the peace of heaven. But whilst there is a mixture, there will be necessarily collision between the two ; and, just according to the character of the times, will that collision produce the flames of a fierce persecution, or the heart- burnings of a silent, but rancorous ha- tred. Yes, Christianity is the olive- branch ; but it falls upon waters, which, struck by any thing pure and heavenly, boil instantly up as though stirred by a hurricane. Christianity is the dove ; but it comes down to the forest where the ravenous birds and the unclean shelter, and the gentlest waving of its wing rouses the brood whose haunts seem invaded. Christianity, in short, is peace ; but it is peace proposed to rebels with their weapons in their hands ; and who knows not, that, if one of these rebels accept, whilst the others refuse, the proffered boon, those who adhere to their treason will turn upon him who takes the oath of alle- giance, and treat him as basely re- creant to the cause he has espoused'! We require, therefore, nothing but the confession that man, in his natural state, is the enemy of God, and that, consequently, there must be direct con- trarietybetvveen his principles and those of a religion which makes God the first object of love. This having been granted, you may take the case either of a nation or a family, of empires bro- ken into parties and sects, or of house- holds where the flow of social chari- ties has been suddenly arrested ; but sufficiency of producing cause has been assigned, to explain, without impeach- ing the tendencies of Christianity, why our Lord's words have all along been verified, "' I came not to send peace, but a sword." 'We have thus examined our text un- der different points of view, and have I only, in conclusion, to remark how strictly our statements harmonize with, prophecies which delineate the final spread of Christianity. We have shown you that it is simply because but par- tially received, that Christianity is prac- tically a sword on the earth. Make the reception universal, and, in place of acting as a sword, Christianity would bind into one all the households, and all the hearts of human kind. Thus the tendencies of the religion are to the producing, and, when produced, to the preserving that glorious state of things which is yet promised in Scripture, when " nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more;" when "Ephraim shall not envy Judah, and Judah shall not vex Ephraim." We can prove Christi- anity fitted for the universal religion: we can prove also, that, if universal- ly received, there would be universal peace and universal joy, the millennial day of a long-troubled creation. It may then even yet be a sword, but, oh, that every heart were pierced by it, and every family penetrated. Christianity may cause dissensions, and we lament them as proofs of the frailty and cor- ruption of our nature; but we would not exchange the dissensions for the undisturbed quiet of spiritual lethargy. We know them to be tokens of life : where enmity is excited, godliness is making way. And, therefore, we will not say, in the words of the prophet, " thou sword of the Lord, how long will it be ere thou be quiet ] put up thyself into thy scabbard, rest, and be still." We will rather say with the Psalmist to Messiah, " Gird thy sword upon thy thigh, O most mighty; and in thy majesty ride prosperously." We wish no scabbard for the sword but the hearts of the whole human po- pulation. Thus sheathed, the jubilee year begins : the one sword, like Aa- ron's rod, swallows up every other; and the universal wound is the univer- sal health. Let each of us remember, that, ere Christianity can be to him peace, it must be to him a sword. The " broken and contrite heart " precedes the assur- ance that we are " accepted in the be- loved." "O Israel, thou hast destroy- ed thyself." Where are there sharper, more cutting words than these, when THE DKATII OF MOSES. 33§ spoken by God's Spirit to the soull " but in me is thine help found." What syllables can breathe more of hope, of comfort, of serenity 1 The sword Chris- tianity is that weapon which heals in wounding : there is balsam on its point, and, as it pierces, it cures. Teaching man to feel himself lost, what can more lacerate the spirit 1 Teaching man that whosoever will may be saved by a Mediator, what balm can be more medicinaH May God grant unto all of us, that, being first stricken with a sense of sin, we may be "justified by faith," and thus have " peace with God, through our Lord Jesus Christ." SERMON VI. THE DEATH OF MOSES. "And the Lord spake unto Moses that selfsame day, saying, Get thee up into this mountain Abarim, un- to mount Nebo, which is in the land of Moab, that is over against Jericho ; and behold the land of Canaan, which I give unto the children of Israel for a possession ; and die in the mount whither thou goest up, and be gathered unto thy people, as Aaron thy brother died in mount Hor, and was gathered unto his people." — Deuteronomy, 32 : 48, 50. I The long wanderings of the Israelites ! were now about to be concluded. That wicked generation, which had provoked God by their murmuring and rebellion, had been exterminated according to the ; divine threat ; and their children stood I by the waters of Jordan, waiting the ' command to go over and expel the Ca- I naanites. The land, flowing with milk ' and honey, was actually in view; the ; land which had been promised to Abra- ham, Isaac, and Jacob ; and in order to i the possession of which by their de- scendants, Egypt had been desolated : with plagues, and a mystic pillar of fire and cloud had traversed the wilderness. It was a moment of great excitement, [and of great triumph : many must have looked impatiently on the river, which [now alone divided them from their he- ritage, and have longed for the permis- sion to pass this last barrier, and tread ithe soil which was to be henceforward 'their own. And who shall be more ex- cited, who more eager for the crossing the Jordan, than the great leader of the [people, he who had been commissioned to deliver them from bondage, and who had borne meekly with their insolence and ingratitude during forty years of danger and toil 1 It was the only earth- ly recompense which the captain of Is- rael could receive, that, having been in- strumental in bringing the nation to the very border of their inheritance, he should behold them happily settled ; and enjoy, in his old age, the beautiful spectacle of the twelve tribes dividing amongst themselves the fields and the vineyards for which their fathers had longed. Or, if this were too much, and he must resign to those younger than himself the leading Israel to battle with the possessors of the land, let him, at least, behold the rich valleys, the sunny hills, the sparkling broolfs; and thus satisfy himself, by actual inspection, of the goodliness of the heritage, the thought of which had cheered him in a thousand toils and perils. But Moses, though there was to arise after him no prophet so honored and faithful ; though he had been admitted to speak face to face with the Lord, 336 THE DEATH OF MOSES. and had received marks of divine ap- probation granted neitiier before nor since to any of our race — Moses had sinned, and the incurred penalty had been, that he should not enter the land of promise. His earnest desire and prayer can do nothing towards procu- ring remission of the sentence: he may ascend Mount Nebo, and thence may he catch a distant view of the spread- ings of Canaan : but he shall not cross the Jordan, he shall not plant his foot on the long-desired Palestine. Strange and apparently harsh decree ! The sin itself had not seemed extraordinarily heinous; yet the threatened retribution is not to be escaped: lengthened and unvaried obedience can do nothing when set against the solitary offence ; and the intercessor, who had so often pleaded successfully with God for the thousands of Israel, is denied the slight boon which he ventured to ask for him- self. Look on the assembled congre- gation : who doubts that there are ma- ny in that vast gathering, who have done much to provoke the Almighty, who will carry into Canaan unsancti- fied hearts and ungrateful spirits'? Yet shall they all go over the Jordan : they shall all follow the ark, weighty with sacramental treasures, as the waters divide before it, doing homage to the symbol of divinity. None shall be left behind but he who was first amongst the servants of God, who would have felt the purest joy, and offered the richest praise, on entering the land which had been promised to his an- cestors. Aaron was already dead: this father of the Levitical priesthood had offended with Moses ; and therefore Avas he denied the privilege of ofiering the first sacrifice in Canaan, and thus consecrating, as it were, the inherit- ance of the Lord. And now must Mo- ses also be gathered to his fathers : he has been spared longer than Aaron, for he had been far more upright and obe- dient : he had been permitted to ap- proach much nearer to the promised land, yea, actually to come within sight ; but the Lord is not forgetful of his word ; and now, therefore, comes this startling message, " Get thee up in- to this mountain, and die in the mount, and be gathered unto thy people ; as Aaron thy brother died in Mount Hor, and was gathered unto his people." The commancT was obeyed \vithout a murmur. This man of God, Avhose '^ eye was not dim, nor his natural force abated," ascended to the top of Pis- gah; and there did the Lord, miracu- lously assisting his vision, show him, " all the land of Gilead, unto Dan, and all Naphtali, and the land of EphraimJ and Manassehj and all the land of Ju- dali unto the utmost sea, and the south, and the plain of the valley of Jericho, the city of palm-trees, unto Zoar." This having been done, he breathed out his soul into the hands of his Ma- ker; and ''the Lord buried him in a valley over against Bethpeor;" but no human eye saw this mysterious disso- lution, and "no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day." Now we consider this as a very inte- resting and instructive portion of sa- cred history, presenting in large mea- sure material for profitable discourse. We design, therefore, to engage you with its consideration; and if the truths which we shall have to bring before you, be only those v/ith which frequent hearing has made you familiar, they will be found, we think, of such im- portance as to warrant their being of- ten repeated. It will be necessary that we examine the sin of which Moses had; been guilty, and which entailed his ex-; elusion from Canaan. After this, we shall have to consider the peculiar circumstances of his death. There! are thus two general divisions under! which our subject will naturally re- solve itself. In the first place, wel are to consider why God refused to. allow Moses to pass over Jordan : in; the second place, we are to give oui attention to the narrative of his as-3 cending Mount Nebo, and there ex- piring in view of the land Avhich he was not to enter. Now you will remember that, soon after the Israelites had come out of Egypt, they were distressed for water in the wilderness, and were so in- censed against Moses as to be almost ready to stone him. On this occasion Moses was directed by God to take the rod, with which he had wrought such great wonders in Egypt, and to smite the rock in Horeb ; he did so, and fortliAvith came there out water in abundance. It is generally allowed that this rock in Horeb was typical of THE DEATH OF MOSES. 337 Christ; and that the circumstance of the rock yielding no water, until smit- ten by the rod of Moses, represented the important truth, that the Mediator must receive the blows of the law be- fore he could be the source of salva- tion to a parched and perishing world. It is to this that St. Paul refers, when he says of the Jews, " They did all drink the same spiritual drink j for they drank of that spiritual rock that fol- lowed them, and that rock was Christ." It appears that the waters, which gushed from the rock in Horeb, at- tended the Israelites during the chief part of their wanderings in the wilder- ness ; and this it is which we are to un- derstand, when the apostle affirms that the rock followed them — the rock it- self did not follow them, but the stream which had issued from that rock — a beautiful representation of the fact, that, if Christ were once smitten, or once sac- rificed, a life-giving current would ac- company continually the church in the wilderness. We do not read again of any scarcity of water until nearly thir- ty-seven years after, when the genera- tion which had come out of Egypt had been destroyed for their unbelief, and their children were about to enter into Canaan. It is probable that God then allowed the supply of water to fail, in order that the Israelites might be re- minded that they were miraculously sustained, and taught, what they were always apt to forget, their dependence on the guardianship of the Almighty. Assuredly they needed the lesson; for no sooner did they find themselves in want of water, than they showed the same unbelief which their fathers had manifested, and, in place of meekly trustincf in the God who had so lono- provided for their wants, " they ga- thered themselves together against Moses and Aaron," and bitterly reviled them for having brought them out of Egypt. Moses is bidden, as on the former occasion, to take his rod, that he may bring forth water out of the rock. But you are to observe carefully the diller- ence between the command now given him, and that which had been delivered in Horeb. In the latter instance, God had distinctly said to him, ''Behold, I will stand before thee there upon the rock in Horeb, and thou shall smite the rock, and there shall come water out of it, that the people may drink." But in the present instance the direc- tion is, " Speak ye unto the rock be- fore their eyes, and it shall give forth his water." in the one case, Moses was expressly commanded to smite the rock ; in the other, he v.as as express- ly commanded only to speak unto the rock. And we cannot but consider that there was something very signifi- cant in this. The rock, as we have sup- posed, typified Christ, who was to be once smitten by the rod of the law, but only once ; seeing that " by one ofier- ing he hath periected for ever them that are sanctified." Having been once smitten, there is nothing needed, in any after dearth, but that this rock should be spoken to ; prayer, if we may use the expression, will open the pierced side of the Lamb of God, and cause fresh fiowings of that stream which is for the cleansing of the na- tions. Hence it would have been to violate the integrity and beauty of the type, that the rock should have been smitten again ; it would have been to represent a necessity that Christ should be twice sacrificed, and thus to darken the whole Gospel scheme. Yet this it was which Moses did; and, in doing this, he greatly displeased God. We have shown you that the command to Moses and Aaron was most distinct, "Speak ye unto the rock before their eyes." But when we come to see how the command was obeyed, we read as follows: "And Moses and Aaron ga- thered the congregation together be- fore the rock ; and he said unto them, Hear now, ye rebels, must we fetch you water out of this rock '{ And Moses lifted up his hand, and with his rod he smote the rock twice." Can you fail, my brethren, to. see that herein Moses sinned grievously 1 It is evident that he was chafed and ir- ritated in spirit ; his language shows this, " hear now, ye rebels :" rebels in- deed the Israelites were; but it was manifestly in a burst of human passion, rather than of holy indignation, that Moses here used the term. And, then, "observe how he proceeds — "Must we fetch you water out of this rock!" What are ye, Moses and Aaron, that ye should speak as though the virtue were in you, when ye are verily 43 338 THE DEATH OF MOSES. men of like passions and feebleness with ourselves! The Psalmist, when giving us the history of his nation during their sojourning in the wilder- ness, might well describe Moses as provoked, on this occasion, to hasty and intemperate speech. " They an- gered God also at the waters of strife, so that it went ill with Moses for their sakes, because they provoked his spir- it, so that he spake unadvisedly with his lips." But this was not the whole, and per- haps not the chief of his offence. In place of doing only as he had been bid- den, and speaking to the rock, he lifted up his hand and smote the rock, yea, smote it twice. Was this merely in the irritation of the moment, or in ac- tual unbelief 1 Did he only forget the command ; or did he fear that a simple word would not suffice, seeing that, on the former occasion, the rock yielded no water until smitten by the rod 1 Probably there was a measure of dis- trust ; he would hardly else have struck twice ; and faith was not likely to be in vigorous exercise when an unholy wrath had possession of his mind. And thus the lawgiver displayed passion, and arrogance, and unbelief: passion, in that he addressed the multitude in the language of an irritated man ; ar- rogance, in that he spake as though his own power were to bring forth the water ; unbelief, in that he smote where he had been commanded only to speak. It seems probable that it was the unbelief which specially provoked God : for when he proceeded to the re- buking the sin, it was in these terms, " Because ye believed me not to sanc- tify me in the eyes of the children of Israel." To us, accustomed, as we unhappily are, to offend more grievously than Moses, even when the utmost had been said in aggravation of his sin, it may seem that God dealt harshly with his servant, in immediately pronouncing as his sentence, that he should not bring the congregation into the land which he would give them. It was a sentence of which Moses himsejf felt the severity; for he describes himself as pleading earnestly for a remission. But he pleaded in vain ; nay, he seems to have been repulsed with indigna- tion; for it is thus that he describes the issue of his supplication: "But the Lord was wroth with me for your sakes, and would not hear me ; and the Lord said unto me, Let it suffice thee, speak no more unto me of this mat- ter." Let it however be remembered, that the eyes of all Israel were now upon Moses and Aaron ; and that, the more exalted their station, and the more eminent their piety, the more requisite was it that God should mark their ofTence ; thus proving that he will [not tolerate sin even in those whom he most loves and approves. It is not because a man stands high in the favor of his Maker, that he may expect to escape the temporal retribu- tions of a fault J on the contrary, since he is not to sustain its eternal retribu- tions, there is the greater reason why the temporal should not be remitted ; for if they were, his sin would be wholly unvisited, and therefore appa- rently overlooked by God. And though indeed Moses had been singularly faith- ful and obedient, who can fail to per- ceive that the uncommonness of ihis fault would only have made his being unpunished more observable ; whereas it gave, on the other hand, opportunity for a most impressive lesson, as to God's hatred of sin, and his resolve that it shall never go unrecompensedl The Avhole congregation had seen the sin committed ; had they seen it also unnoticed by God, they might have argued that impatience and unbelief were excusable in certain persons, or under certain provocations. But when they found that Aaron was to die on Mount Hor, and Moses on Mount Ne- bo, because they had not believed God to sanctify him in their eyes, they were taught, even move impressively than by any thing which had happened to themselves or their fathers, that sin necessarily moves, under all circum- stances, the wrath of the Almighty ; that no amount, whether of previous or after righteousness, can compensate for the smallest transgression ; and that eminence as a saint, rather in- sures than averts some penal visitation, if there be the least swerving from the strict line of duty. And the lesson should lose none of its impressiveness because delivered ages back, and under a dispensation which had more of temporal sanctions than in i THE DEATH OF MOSES. 339 our own. If I would judge the evil na- ture of unbelief, if I would estimate how the least distrust of his word pro- vokes the Most High, I know not on what I can better fix my attention than on Moses, arrested on the very thresh- old of Canaan, because, on a solitary occasion, when moreover there was much to incense him, he had shown want of confidence in God, and over- stepped the limits of a command. The thousands who fell in the wilderness "because of unbelief," warn me not so emphatically as this single individual, shut out from the promised land. They were bold and dissolute men : often and fiercely did they provoke God in the desert. But he was the very meek- est on the earth : his face, it may be, still shone with celestial radiance, as when he descended from communing with God on the mount j and I do not know that there is another registered instance, during all the years which had elapsed since the coming out of Egypt, in which he had displayed the least approach to deficiency in faith. Does he not then furnish a most signal demonstration, that unbelief, in every degree and with every palliation, stores up against us matter of accusation; and that, if we will not simply take iGod at his word, act on his precepts, 'and leave him to make good his prom- ises, we expose ourselves to his heavy indignation, and must look for nothing but the fulfilment of his threatenings ] Let us be assured that God does not overlook, but rather accurately notes, with full intent to recompense, those doubtings and mistrustings which are often found in the best of his servants ; and that, if he do not at the instant punish his people, when they follow not implicitly his bidding, it is not be- ;cause he thinks little of the ofience, but because he sees fit to defer the re- tribution. And if any one of you would plead that it is very hard to be simply obedient, that reason will come in with its suggestions, and that then it is in- tensely difficult to adhere strictly to revelation ; if he would think it some excuse for the defects of his faith, that [Jie is taken by surprise, or placed in 'trying circumstances, or is constitu- tionally anxious, or generally firm — we send him to behold Moses, eager to en- j;er Canaan, and almost within its bor- ders, and nevertheless commanded to ascend Mount Nebo to die ; and we think that he will hardly venture to make light hereafter of the least dis- trust of God, when he finds that this eminent saint expired on the very mar- gin of the promised inheritance, just because, in a moment of unbelief, he had smitten the rock to which he had been directed only to speak. Such then was the ofience of Moses ; an offence which we are perhaps dis- posed to underrate, because prone our- selves to impatience and unbelief; and of which, as probably, we overrate the punishment, not considering that the chastisement was altogether temporal. It is true that God was angry with Mo- ses, and that he showed his anger by disappointing one of his most cherish- ed hopes ; but the anger was exhaust- ed in the one decree, that he must die upon Nebo ; for this mountain was to be as the gate to paradise. Let us now however examine the particulars which are narrated in our text of the departure of Moses. The sentence had been, that Moses should not bring the congregation into Canaan. Its literal execution did not forbid his approaching to the very confines of the land, nor his being allowed to look up- on its provinces. And accordingly God, who always tempers judgment with, mercy, though he would not remit the sentence, gave his servant as much in- dulgence as consisted with its terms, suffering him to advance to the very edge of the Jordan, and then directing him to a mountain Avhence he might gaze on large districts of the expected inheritance. Still the hour is come when Moses must die, however graciously it may be ordered, that, though he is to depart out of life because he had dis- pleased God, his departure shall be soothed by tokens of favor. There is a strange mixture of severity and gentle- ness in the command, " Get thee up into this mountain, and behold the land of Canaan, and die in the mount whi- ther thou goest up." There is severity — thou must die, though thou art yet in full strength, with every power, whether of mind or of body, unimpair- ed. But there is also gentleness — thou must die ; but yet thou shalt not close thine eyes upon the world until they have been gladdened by a sight of the 340 THE DEATH OF MOSES. valleys and mountains which Israel shall possess. Yet it is neither the severity, nor the gentleness, which is most observable in the passage : it is the simple, easy manner in which the command is given. " Go up and die." Had God been bid- ding Moses to a banquet, or directing him to perform the most ordinary du- ty, he could not have spoken more fa- miliarly, or with less indication of re- quiring what was painful or difficult.* And in truth it was no hardship to Moses to die. He had deliberately '' es- teemed the reproach of Christ greater riches than all the treasures in Egypt," and had long " had respect unto the re- compense of the reward." And though he would fain have lived a while long- er, to complete the work at which he had labored for years, lie knew that to die would be to enter a land, of which Canaan, with all its brightness, was but a dim type. Therefore could God speak to him of dying, just as he would have spoken of taking rest in sleep : as though there could be nothing formi- dable in the act of dissolution, nothing from which human nature might shrink. Yet we could not have wondered, had Moses manifested reluctance ; for it was in a mysterious, and almost fear- ful manner, that he was to depart out of life. It is, in all cases, a solemn thing to die ; and our nature, when ga- thering itself up for the act of dissolu- tion, seems to need all the prayers and kindnesses of friends, that it may be enabled to meet the last enemy with composure. The chamber in which a good man dies, is ordinarily occupied by affectionate relatives ; they stand round his bed, to watch his every look, and catch his every word : they whis- per him encouraging truths, and they speak cheeringly of the better land to which he is hastening, though they may often be obliged to turn away the face, lest he should be grieved by the tears which their own loss extorts. And all this detracts somewhat from the terror of dying. It is not, that, if the dying man were alone, God could not equally sustain him by the conso- lations of his grace. But it is, that there is something in the visible in- strumentality, which is specially adapt- * Bishop Hall. ed to our nature : we are disposed to the leaning upon sensible aids, so that, whilst yet in the flesh, we can scarce commit ourselves to spiritual agency. Take away all the relatives and friends from the sick room, and is there not a scene of extraordinary desolateness, a scene from which every one of us re- coils, and which presents to the mind, such a picture of desertion, that the thought of its being our own lot would suffice to embitter the rest of our days'? Yet it was alone that Moses was to die : no friend was to accompany him to Pisgah ; no relative was to be near when he breathed out his soul. "Get thee up into this mountain, and die there." Strange death-bed, which I am thus ordered to ascend ! Mine eye is not dimmed, my strength is not broken — what fierce and sudden sickness will seize me on that mount % Am I to lin- ger there in unalleviated pain 1 and then, when my soul at length struggles free, must my body be left, a dishonor- ed thing, to be preyed on by the beasts of the field, and the fowls of the air "? Vv'^ould you not have expected that thoughts such as these would have crowded and distressed the mind of the great lawgiver, on receiving the direction of our text? I cannot find words to express to you what I think of the mysteriousness and awfulness of the scene through which Moses had to pass. To separate himself from the people to whom he was tenderly at- tached ; to ascend, without a single! companion, the mountain from whifcll he was never to return ; to climb the! lofty summit for the express purpose of there grappling with death, thoughi he knew not with what terrors, norun der what shape ; to go, in his unabatedl vigor, that, on a wild spot, alone with, his Creator, he might be consumed byi slow disease, or rapt away in a whirl- wind, or stricken down by lightning — I feel as though it had been less trying, had he been summoned to a martyr's death, to ascend the scaffold in pkice of the mountain, and to brave the cries of bloodthirsty persecutors instead of the loneliness, the breathlessness, of the summit of Pisgah. And never does Moses wear to me such an air of mo- ral sublimity, as when I contemplate him leaving the camp, for the express purpose of resigning his soul into the THE DEATH OF MOSES. 34.1 hands of his Maker. Never does his faith seem to me so signal, so sorely tried, nor so finely triumphant. 1 gaze on him with nwe, as, with the rod of God in his hand, he stands before Pha- raoh, and appals the proud monarch by the prodigies which he works. And there is a fearful magnificence in his aspect, as, with outstretched arm, he plants himself on the Red Sea's shore, and bids its waters divide, that the thousands of Israel may march through on dry land. Yea, and who can look on him without emotions of Avonder, and almost of dread, as he ascends Mount Sinai, whilst the fire and thun- der of the Lord strike terror into the hearts of the congregation, that he may commune in secret with God, and re- ceive from his lips enactments and stat- utes ? But, on these and the like occa- sions, the very circumstances in which he was placed were calculated to ani- ;mate the leader; and when we think )0n the mighty powers with which he ;was endowed, we can scarce feel sur- 'prise that he should have borne him- self so heroically. The great trial of faith was not in the waving or striking with a rod which had often shown its iinastery over nature : neither was it in the ascending a mountain, from which he expected to return with fit laws for ithe government of a turbulent multi- tude. It was the laying down of the ;miraculous rod which required vast faith ; and the splendid courage was ;shown in the climbing a summit, where, jwith the rock for his couch, and the .broad heaven for his roof, and far from all human companionship, he was to 'Submit himself to the sentence, "Dust xhou art, and unto dust thou shalt re- icurn." 1 And therefore, we again say, that, if live would survey Moses in his gran- deur, when his moral majesty is most ^jonspicuous, and the faith and boldness jf a true servant of God commend themselves most to our imitation, then |t is not when he breaks the chains of .|v long-enslaved people, and not when 'le conducts a swarming multitude hrough the wilderness, and not when |ie is admitted into intimate commun- ings with the Almighty, that he should lix our attention — it is rather when he ileparts from the camp without a soli- jary attendant, and we kij^ow that, as he climbs the steep ascent, perhaps pausing at times that he may look yet again on the people whom, notwith- standing their ingratitude, he tenderly loved, he is obeying the strange and thrilling command, " Get thee up into this mountain, and there die, and be gathered to thy people." We cannot follow Moses in this his mysterious journey. We know not the particulars of what occurred on the summit of Pisgah; and where revela- tion is silent, it does not become us to offer conjectures. We are only inform- ed that the Lord showed him great part of the land of Canaan, and then said unto him, "I have caused thee to see it Avith thine eyes, but thou shalt not go over thither." And here, just where curiosity is most strongly excited — for who does not long to know the exact mode in which Moses departed out of life, to be present at his last scene, and observe his dismissal 1 — the narrative is closed with the simple announcement, "SoMoses, the servant of the Lord, died there in the land of Moab, according to the word of the Lord." But we know, at least, that God was with his servant in this hour of strangeness and loneli- ness, and that, vihen Moses lay down to die, he had been abundantly cheered by visions vouchsafed him of the long- promised Canaan. And shall we think that Moses died contented and happy, just because his eye had rested on the waters of Jordan, and caught the wav- ings of the cedars of Lebanon 1 Was it merely by gazing on the natural land- scape that, the man of God was cheer- ed ; and was nothing done for him but the causing valleys that laughed with abundance, and heights that were crest- ed with beauty, to gather themselves into one glorious panorama, as the in- heritance which had been promised to the children of Abraham \ We can scarcely think this. We may believe that the desire of Moses to enter into Canaan was a spiritual desire : with Canaan he associated a fuller revela- tion of the Christ : and he may have thought, that, admitted into the land, which in the fuUiess of time would be trodden by Messiah, he should learn more of that Redeemer of the world than he had been able to gather from existing prophecies and types. In his own prayer to God, depreca- 342 THE DEATH OF MOSES. ting the sentence which his impatience and unbelief had provoked, he spake as though there were one spot which he specially wished to be permitted to be- hold. " I pray thee, let me go over, and see the good land that is beyond Jor- dan, that goodly mountain, and Leba- non." " That goodly mountain " — were his thoughts on Mount Moriah, where Abraham had offered up Isaac, and which was to be the scene of a sacri- fice of which this had been only a fi- gure 1 Was it Zion on which he was eager to gaze, as knowing, that, on a far distant day, it would be hallowed by the footsteps, and witness the sor- rows of the prophet, whose coming he had himself been commissioned to fore- tel 1 Indeed, we again say, we can hardly think that it was simply the wish of beholding the rich landscape of Canaan, its fountains and brooks, and olives and vines, which actuated Moses when imploring permission to pass over Jordan. He knew that in this land was to be accomplished the origi- nal promise ; that there was the seed of the woman to bruise the serpent's head. He knew that in this land would that Deliverer appear for whom patri- archs had longed, and of whom he was himself a signal type — the Deliverer in whom he felt that all his hopes centred, but whose office and person could be only feebly learned from revelations al- ready vouchsafed. And why may it not have been, that Moses longed to tread Canaan, because his mind already peo- pled it with the august occurrences of coming ages'? even as to. ourselves would Palestine be a scene of surpass- ing interest, not because its mountains may be noble, and its valleys lovely ; but because haunted by the memory of all that is precious to a christian, be- cause every breeze would there seem to us to waft the words of Christ, and every flower to be nurtured with his blood, and every spot to be hallowed by his presence] To Moses it must have been through anticipated, Avhere- as to us it would be through remem- bered events, that the land of Judea might thus preach by its every hill, and fountain, and tree. But the trains and processions of prophecy were as splendid, though not as distinct, as are now those of history; and if the law- giver, privileged to search into the fu- ture, and behold in mystic shadows the redemption of humankind, could not associate, as we ourselves can, various scenes with theVarious transactions in which sinners have interest, he might at least connect the whole land of Ca- naan with the promised rescue of our race, and regard all its spreadings as " holy ground," like that which sur- rounded the burning bush in Horeb. And as we ourselves, carrying with us the remembrance of all that was done " for us men and for our salvation," might feel that to visit Judea would be to strengthen our faith and warm our piety — seeing that dead indeed must be the heart which would not beat higher in the garden of Gethsemane, and on the mount of Calvary — so may Moses, borne onward by the prophetic impulse, have felt that it would be to awaken loftier emotions, and obtain clearer views, to enter and walk the land which was finally to be consecra- ted by the presence of the Shiloh. For this it may have been that the lawgiver so intently longed to pass the Jordan. And when he stood on the summit of Pisgah, and God showed him the land, it may have been by the revelation of mysteries, which he had ardently desired to penetrate, that his spirit was cheered, and death stripped of all terror. He looked from the mountain-top o'er many a luxuriant scene; but as plain, and vineyard, andj town, and river, were made to pass be-| fore his view, God, who is expressly declared to have been with him to in struct him, may have taught him hoWi each spot would be associated with the! great work of human deliverance. His eye is upon Bethlehem ; but, lo, alrea- dy a mystic star hangs over the solita- ry village; and he learns something oi . the force of the prediction which him-| ■ self had recorded, '' There shall come ^ a star out of Jacob, and a sceptre shall rise out of Israel." The waters of a lake are heaving beneath him ; but, lo, a human form is walking the agitated surface ; and he is taught that as No- ah, whose history he had related, Avas sheltered in the ark, so shall all, who will turn from iniquity, find safety in a Being whom no storms can overwhelm, and no waves ingulph. And now i mountain is seen, but not lit up, a? the panorapia had hitherto been, bj THE DEATH OF MOSES. 343 the joyous shinings of the sun ; aw- ful clouds hang around it, and over it, as though it were the scene of some tragedy which nature shrank from be- holding. This rivets the lawgiver's gaze; it is the '^ goodly mountain" which he had prayed that he might see. And there is a cross upon its summit ; greater than Isaac is bound to the altar ; the being, whom he had seen upon the waters, is expiring in agony. The transactions of the great day of atonement are thus explained ; the mystery of the scape-goat is un- folded ; and Moses, taught the mean- ing of types which himself had been directed to institute, is ready to ex- claim, '' Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation." Thus it may have been, that, ere Moses departed out of life, God not only showed him the promised land, but made it a kind of parable of re- demption. And, on this supposition, we may well understand w^hy Moses was so eager to see Canaan before he died, and why the sight should have been instrumental to the making him lie happy. Yes, I cannot but feel, as I follow Moses in thought to the sum- nit of Pisgah, that the man of God loes not climb that eminence, merely 'hat he may gladden his eye with a glorious developement of scenery, and :;atisfy himself, by actual inspection, of he goodliness of the heritage which Is- ael was about to possess. And when I jind that God himself was with this (•reatest of prophets, to assist his vis- Ion, and inform him as to the territo- ly which lay beneath his feet, I cannot ihink that the divine communication leferred only to the names of cities, !nd the boundaries of tribes. Rather i»ust I believe that what Moses sought, nd God vouchsafed, was fuller know- 'idge of all that would be wrought in anaan for the pardon of sin ; that, as fethlehem, and Nazareth, and Tabor, pd Zion, graved themselves on the iCture, it was their association with lie promised Messiah which gave them [terest in the eye of the delighted bectator ; and that, therefore, it was erally to prepare Moses for death, ' showing him " the Resurrection and e Life," that God spake unto him, ying, " Get thee up into this moun- tain, and behold the land of Canaan, and die there, and be gathered unto thy fathers." And there did Moses die ; his spirit entered into the separate state, and no human friends were near to do the last honors to his remains. But God would not desert the body, any more than the soul- of his servant; both were his by creation, and both were to become doubly his by redemption. It is there- fore added to the strange narrative — and perhaps it is the strangest fact of all — that " he buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over against Beth- peor ; but no man knoweth of his se- pulchre unto this day." Wonderful entombment ! no mortal hands dug the grave, no mortal voices chanted the requiem ;,but angels, " ministering spi- rits," who are appointed to attend on the heirs of salvation, composed the limbs, and prepared the sepulchre. We refer to angels this performance of the last rites to the departed prophet, be- cause it appears from another, though obscure, passage of Scripture, that an- gels were in some way the keepers of the body; for we read, in the General Epistle of Jude, of "Michael the arch- angel, when contending with the devil, he disputed about the body of Moses." Why this special mystery and careful- ness in regard of the body of ]\Ioses 1 It has been supposed, that prone as the Israelites were to idolatry, they mio-ht have been tempted, had they known the sepulchre of their great lawgiver, to make it the scene of superstitious observances. But this seems at least an insufficient supposition, more espe- cially since the place of burial, though not the exact spot, was tolerably de- fined, " a valley in the land of Moab over against Bethpeor;" quite defined enough for superstition, had there been any wish to give idolatrous honors to the remains of the dead. But you will all remember that Mo- ses, though he must die before enter- ing Canaan, was to rise, and appear in that land, ages before the general re- surrection. When Christ was transfirru- red on Mount Tabor, who were those shining forms that stood by him, and " spake of the decease which he should accomplish at Jerusalem 1" Who but Elias and Moses — Elias, who had been translated without seeing death, so that SM THE DEATH OF MOSES. he had entered, body and soul, into heaven; and Moses, who had indeed died, the soul having been separated from the body, but whose body had been committed to angelic guardian- ship, as though in order thaMt might be ready to take part in the brilliant transaction upon Tabor l The body, which had been left upon Pisgah, reap- peared upon Tabor ; and evidence was given, that those who lie for ages in the grave, shall be as glorious, at the second coming of Christ, as those who are to be changed "in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye." Moses was the representative of the myriads who shall rise from the grave ; Ellas, of those, who, found alive upon the earth, shall be transformed without seeing death; and forasmuch as the represen- tatives appeared in equal splendor, so also, we believe, shall the quick and dead, when all that was typified by the transfiguration shall be accomplished in the preliminaries to the general judgment. But we have no space to enlarge upon this. We must pass from the mysterious death and burial of Moses, and ask you whether you do not see that there are great spiritual lessons in the series of events which we have briefly reviewed! We need not tell you that the captivity of Israel in Egypt was a striking representation of the moral condition of the whole hu- man race, as sold by sin into the ser- vice of a task-master. And when the chains of the people were broken, and God brouglit them forth " by a mighty hand, and a stretched out arm," the whole transaction was eminently ty- pical ^of our own emancipation from bondage. But why might not Moses, who had commenced, be allowed to complete the great work of deliver- ance \ Why, after bringing the people out of Egypt, might he not settle them in Canaan 1 Why, except that Moses was but the representative of the law, and that the law, of itself, can never lead us into heavenly places'? The law is as '*a schoolmaster, to bring us unto Christ ;" it may discipline us during our wanderings in the wilderness; but if, when we reach the Jordan, there were no Joshua, no Jesus — for the names are the same — to undertake to be our guide, we could never go over and possess that good land which God hath prepared for his people. There- fore, we may believe, was it appointed that there should be a change of lead- ers, that all may know, that, if the law acting through terrors, bring a marl out of the slavery of sin, it is only thtj : Gospel, rich in merciful provision! { which can open for him an entrancf' into the kingdom of heaven. Mose; was commanded to resign the peoplt to Joshua : " The very acts of God,' says Bishop Hall, "were allegories where the law ends, there the Savio begins; we may see the land of pro mise in the law ; only Jesus, the Me diator of the New Testament, ca bring us into it." Thus does Moses instruct us, by hi death, to whom to look for admissio; into the heavenly Canaan. He instruct us moreover as to how we must be pk ced, if our last hours are to be those c hope and peace.' We must die on th summit of Pisgah : we must die wit our eye upon Bethlehem, upon Geti semane, upon Calvary. It was not, c we have ventured to suppose, the gk, riousness of the Canaanitish landsca' which satisfied the dying leader, a: nerved him for departure. It was r tlier his view of the Being by who that landscape would be trodden, a: who would sanctify its scenes by h| .t tears and his blood. And, in like mai ner, when a christian comes to die, is not so much by views of the maj tic spreadiugs of the paradise of Go of the rollings of the crystal river, ar of the sparklings of the golden street that he must look to be comforted : h eye, with that of Moses, must be uptj the manger, the garden, and the cros and thus, fixing his every hope on 1 Forerunner, he may be confident tb| an entrance shall be ministered uDj him abundantly, into the kingd " prepared from the foundation of world." " Get thee up into this mo tain, and die there." that we m all be living in such a state of prep ■ edness for death, that, when sumnu- ed to depart we may ascend the su - mit, whence faith looks forth on ' that Jesus hath suffered and done, ai;, exclaiming, "we have waited fori/' salvation, O Lord," lie down with J- ses on Pisgah, to awake with Mosesii paradise. li THE ASCENSION OF CHRIST. 345 SERMON VII THE ASCENSION OF CHRIST Lift up your heads, ye gates ; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting' door?, and the King of glory shall come in. AVho is this King of glory ? The Lord strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in battle." — Psalm 24 : 7, 8. We hardly know how it has come to I pass, that comparatively but little at- tention is given to the great fact of Christ's ascension into heaven. Christ- inas-day, Good-Friday, and Easter-day, [are universally observed by members of our church; but Holy Thursday is scarcely known, even by name, to the great mass of christians. The church evidently designed to attach as much importance to that day as to the others, 'having appointed proper psalms as well ;as lessons, and furnished a sacramental ■preface. We have come, however, to 'the neglecting this ordinance of the church, so that, whilst we statedly as- semble to commemorate the birth, death, and resurrection of our Lord, A'e have no solemn gathering in cele- bration of his ascension. And if this lave not arisen from men's attaching Jog little importance to the ascension, it is, at least, likely to lead to their 'hinking less of that event than it de- serves, or than is required for it by the :hurch. On this account, forasmuch js we have just passed Holy Thurs- jlay, we think it well to direct your at- 'ention to the closing scene of Christ's ojourn upon earth, so that, having itood round his cradle, followed him '0 Calvary, and seen him burst from ilie grave, we may complete the wond- !ous contemplation by gazing upon him (s he soars from Mount Olivet. Of jourse it will not be the mere histori- al fact on which we shall enlarge : for [e may assume that you require no [v^idence, that, as Jesus died and re- I'.ved, so did he return in human na- i>re to the heaven whence he had de- j scended, and take his seat at the right j hand of God. But as, in discoursing on j the resurrection of Christ, we strive to ! show you our personal interest in that j event, arguing our own resurrection I from that of our Head ; so will we en- deavor, in discoursing on the ascension, to consider the occurrence in its bear- ings on ourselves: for such bearings undoubtedly there are, seeing that St. Paul declares to the Ephesians, that God 'Miath quickened us together with Christ, and hath raised us up together, and made us sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus." It is generally admitted, by exposi- tors of the writings of David, that the words of our text have a secondary, if not a primary, reference to the return, of the Mediator to heaven, when he had accomplished the work of human re- demption. By many, the Psalm, of which our text is a part, is supposed to have been written and sung on occa- sion of the removal of the ark by Da- vid to Jerusalem ; it may have been also employed when that ark was car- ried into the magnificent temple which Solomon had reared. The Levites may be regarded as approaching in solemn procession, bearing the sacred deposi- tory of sacramental treasures. As they approach the massive gates, they claim admission for the King of glory, who was perpetually to dwell between the cherubim that should overshadow the ark. " Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors, and the King of glory shall come in." The keepers of the gates are supposed to hear the summons, and they demand 4i 346 THE ASCENSION OF CHRIST. from within, " Wtio is this King of glo- ry T' The answer is, " The Lord strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in bat- tle :" and then we are to imagine the ponderous gates thrown open, and the gorgeous throng of priests and Levites pressing towards the recesses of the sanctuary. But if such were the transaction to which the Psalm originally referred, it may well be regarded as typical ; whilst certain of the expressions, such as '' ye everlasting doors," seem evi- dently to belong to no earthly house, however sumptuous and solid. In short, as Bishop Horsley affirms, the Jehovah of this psalm must be Christ ; and the entrance of the Redeemer into the kingdom of his Father is the event prophetically announced. The passage is very sublime, when thus interpreted and applied.* You are to consider the Mediator as ascending towards heaven, attended by a multitude of the celes- tial host. The surrounding angels min- gle their voices in a chorus, which, summons their glorious compeers, who are within the heavenly city, to open wide the gates, that the triumphant Sa- vior may enter. The angels within the city may be regarded as thronging to its walls, wondering who this could be that approached in human form, and yet claimed admission into the imme- diate presence of God. They ask the name of the ascending man, for whom Avas demanded entrance to their own bright abode. The answer is a refer- ence to his achievements upon earth, where he had " spoiled principalities and powers," and " made a show of them openly." *' The Lord strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in battle." And then you are to suppose the ever- lasting doors to revolve, and that, amid the enraptured adorations of the whole celestial hierarchy, he who had been " a man of sorrows," and who " bare our sins in his own body on the tree," advances to the throne of God, and takes his seat there as " Head over all things to the Church." It is in this manner that our text may be applied to the great event with Avhich we now propose to engage your attention. And if angels, for whom Jesus did not die, and whose battle he See Bishop Honie. had not fought, may be considered as exultingly requiring his admission into the heavenly city, shall men be silent, men for whom he had suffered, men for whom he was about to intercede 1 Ra-' ther let us take on our own lips the summons to the gates and everlasting doors; and, as we stand with the Apos- tles, gazing vipwards at the ascending' Savior, let us exclaim, in a voice of gladness and triumph, " Lift up your] heads, O ye gates, and be ye lift up, ye ,; everlasting doors, and the King of glo- ' ry shall come in." What, you will say, are we to re- joice in the departure of our Lord from his Church 1 It may well be understood why angels should utter the words oi our text. Angels were delighted at the return of that Divine Person, who had emptied himself of his glories, and withdrawn himself for a time, so far as Deity could be withdrawn, from the scene where he had been wont to show them his greatness. To angels, there fore, the ascension was indeed cause, , of lofty gratulation ; we might well ex- j||' pect them to manifest their gladness' "^ to throng joyously round the return ing Redeemer, and to usher him, witl every token of exultation, into th( house of his Father. But assuredly th( case is very diflerent with us. The as cension of Christ was his withdraw ment from all visible intercourse witl; his church; that church has ever sinci been in comparative widowhood; aiu| the return of her Lord is the graiM event with which she is taught to as sociate what will be most brilliant ii her portion. Must we then be glad ^, the departure of Christ ; and, as thou we wished him to be hidden from on' sight, must we summon the gates o the heavenly city, and bid them fl open that the King of glory may enter It is in the answer to such a qucf tion as this that we shall find matte of important and interesting discoursf There are indeed other aspects unde which the ascension may be surveye( and furnish to our contemplation truth of no ordinary kind. But the gre£j thing for our consideration, is, the pe : sonal interest whicTi we ourselves hav in the ascension of Christ, the cau; which that event furnishes for our grat tude and rejoicing. To this, therefor we shall strictly confine ourselves; ; THE ASCENSION OF CHRIST. 347 that the object of the remainder of our discourse is simple and definite : We have to search out, and set before you, reasons, from which it may appear that we are bound to exult in the ascension of our Lord ; or which, in other words, might justify our joining in the sum- mons, " Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors." Now let us just suppose that Christ had not been exalted to the right hand of God, and let us see whether the supposition would not materially aflect our spiritual condition. We know that Christ had taken our nature into union with the divine, on purpose that he might effect its reconciliation to God. In order to this, it was necessary that he should suffer and die; for the claims of justice on the sinful could not, so far as we know, have been otherwise satisfied. And he willingly submitted to the endurance : " being found in fa- shion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross." But there was a virtue in this death, which made it expiatory of the sins of the world ; so that when the Redeemer had breathed his soul into the hands of his Father, the offending nature was reconciled, and the human race placed within reach of forgiveness. Accordingly, it was just- ly to be expected that the resurrec- tion would quickly follow the crucifix- ion of Christ : for justice could not de- tain our surety in the grave, when the claims, which he had taken on himself, were discharged. Hence the resurrec- tion of Christ was both the proof and consequence of the completeness of his mediatorial work : he could not have risen had he not exhausted the penalty incurred by humankind; and, when he rose, God may be said to have proclaimed to the universe the suffi- ciency of the sacrifice, and his accept- ance of it as an atonement for the sins of the world. If Christ had remained in the grave, and his flesh had seen corruption, we could only have regard- ed him as a man like one of ourselves ; at least, we could never have regarded him as a substitute, whose vicarious endurances had been effectual on our behalf; for so long as he had been still " holden of death," we must have felt that he was a debtor to justice, and that, therefore, those whom he re- presented could not have been freed. But was it enough that the Mediator should be quickly released from the grave, and that our nature should be thereby pronounced capable of the for- giveness and favor of its Maker % It is here that we have to make our suppo- sition, that the resurrection had not been followed by the ascension of Christ. It is sufficiently easy to certi- fy ourselves of the indispensableness of the resurrection ; for we see at once the force of the distinction drawn by St. Paul, that Christ was " delivered for our offences," but " raised again for our justification." But it is quite an- other thing to certify ourselves of the indispensableness of the ascension ; for, when our justification had been completed, might not the risen JMedia- tor have remained with the church, gladdening it perpetually by the light of his presence 1 To this we reply, that the reception of our nature, in the per- son of our surety, into heavenly pla- ces, was as necessary to our comfort and assurance as its deliverance from the power of the grave. We ask you only to remember, that, as originally created, man moved in the immediate presence of God ; and that the state from which he fell was one of direct intercourse and blissful communion with his Maker. And Christ had un- dertaken to counteract the effects of apostacy ; as the second Adam, he en- gaged to place human nature in the very position from which it had been, withdrawn by the first. But was there any demonstration that such undertak- ing, such engagement, had been fully performed, until Christ ascended up to heaven, and entered, as a man, into the holy place 1 So long as he remained on earth, there was no evidence that he had won for our nature re-admis- sion to the paradise from which it had been exiled. Whilst he "went about doing good," and preaching the Gos- pel of the kingdom, that nature was still under the original curse, for the atoning sacrifice had not been present- ed. Whilst he hung on the cross, that curse was in the act of being exhaust- ed ; and when he came forth from the tomb, it was pronounced to be whol- ly removed. But the taking away the curse was not necessarily the restoring the nature to all the forfeited privileges 318 THE ASCENSION OF CHRIST. and blessings: it was the rendering the nature no longer obnoxious to God's righteous anger, rather than the rein- stating it in God's love and favor. It is altogether imaginable that enough might have been done to shield the nature from punishment, and yet not enough to place it in happiness. And what we contend is, that, up to the moment of the ascension, no evidence was given on the latter point, though there was abundance on the former. The whole testimony of the resurrec- tion was a testimony to the exhaustion of the curse j it went not beyond this; and therefore could not prove that the flaming sword of the cherub was sheath- ed, and that man might again enter the garden of the Lord. And if Christ had never returned, in human nature, to his Father ; if, hav- ing been delivered from the grave, he had remained upon earth, in however glorious a character, we must always have feared that our redemption was incomplete, and that we had not been restored to the forfeited position. For, whatsoever Christ did, he did as our representative ; and whatsoever was awarded to him, was awarded to him as our representative. We are reck- oned as having fulfilled in him the righteousness, and endured in him the penalties of the law: turn to Scrip- ture, and you find that we were cir- cumcised with Christ, that with him we were crucified, with him buried, with him raised up ; for in him was our nature circumcised, crucified, bu- ried, and raised ; and what was done to the nature, was counted as done to the individuals to whom that nature might belong. Hence, in following Christ up to his resurrection, we fol- low our nature a long way towards full recovery from the consequences of apostacy ; but, if we stop at the resur- rection, we do not reach the reinstate- ment of that nature in all its lost ho- nors. In order to this we must have that nature received into the paradise of God, and there made partaker of endless felicity. Christ, raised from the dead, and remaining always upon earth, would only have assured us of deliverance from the grave, and pro- tracted residence on this globe : we must have Christ raised from the dead, and received up into glory, ere we can have assurance that we shall springy from the dust and soar into God's pre- sence. Are we not then borne out in the assertion, that we have as great inter- est in the ascension of our Lord, as in any other of the events of his marvel- lous history; and that it would be al- most as fatal to our hopes, to prove, that, having been raised, he had never been glorified, as to prove, that, having been slain, he had never been raised ] In each case there would be a stop- ping short of the complete counterac- tion of the consequences of apostacy ; in each case, that is, evidence would be wanting that the Redeemer accom- plished what he undertook. We can go, therefore, with the disciples to the deserted sepulchre of Jesus, and rejoice in the proof that '' his soul was not left in hell, neither his flesh did see corrup- tion." We triumph in the resurrection of our Lord ; we see in it the resurrec- tion of our nature; and we expect, with exultation, a moment when all that are in the grave shall hear a divine voice, and come forth indestructible. But we are not, we cannot be, content with this. Our thoughts are upon scenes which man traversed in his innocence, or rather upon scenes of which these were but types. We remember the gar- den where God condescended to asso- ciate familiarly with his creature; and Ave ask, whether the decree of exile have indeed been repealed, and whe- ther the banished nature be free to re- enter the glorious abode ] If so, that nature must ascend in the person of our representative ; we are still chain- ed to earth, if Christ, as our forerun- ner, have not passed into the heavens. What then 1 shall it be in sorrow, shall it be in fear, that we follow the Re- deemer to Bethany, when about to de- part from this earth ; shall we wish to detain him amongst us, as though sa- tisfied with the emancipation of our nature from the power of death, and not desiring its admission into all the splendors of immortality ? Not so, an- gelic hosts, ye who are waiting to at- tend the Mediator, as he ascends to his Father. We know and feel that Christ must depart from us, if he have indeed secured our entrance to the bright land, where ye behold the universal King. And, therefore, we will join THE ASCENSION OF CHRIST. 349 your strain ; we will echo your melo- dy. Yes, though it be to ask that he may be withdrawn from his church, that he may no longer be amongst us to guide, and cheer, and control, we too will pour forth the summons, "Lift up your heads, ye gates, and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors, and the King of glory shall come in." But this can perhaps hardly be said to put the necessity for Christ's exal- tation in a sufficiently strong light. It certainly appears, from our foregoing reasoning, that, unless the resurrection had been followed by the ascension of our Lord, Ave should have wanted evi- dence of the restoration of our nature to the dignity and happiness which had been lost by transgression. But this evidence is furnished by the sim- ple fact of the ascension : it does not seem to require the continued absence of Christ from his church. If we are to join the angels in the summons of our text, we must be supposed to feel and express joy that Christ was about to make his dwelling in heavenly places. Angels exulted, because the eternal Word was once more to manifest his presence in the midst of their abode, and to be again the light and glory of their city. But why should we share this exultation 1 We may allow it to be cause of rejoicing, that our nature was admitted, in the person of Christ, into the presence of God ; but we seem to need nothing beyond this : if Christ ihad immediately returned tohis church, iwe should have had the same assurance as now of our restoration to divine .favor, and the advantages, in addition, of Christ's personal presence with his 'people. Now we do not deny, that, in order to our joining heartily in the summons of our text, it is necessary that we 'should be prepared to rejoice in the ex- iiltation, as well as in the ascension, of iur Lord, in his remaining in heavenly r')laces, as well as in his departure from parth. We must take into account the ponsequences of the ascension, as well U the ascension itself: for angels, un- iloubtedly, had regard to these, wlien jnanifesting gladness at the return of 'xod's Son. And we are quite ready to arry our argument to tlie length thus upposed, and to contend that we have iuch interest in the exaltation of Christ, in his being invested with glories which require his separation from the church, that men might well join with angels in summoning the gates of the celes- tial city to fly open for his admission. We would bring to your recollection, that God had covenanted to bestoAV great honor on his Son, in recompense of the work of our redemption. And though it be true that this honor was chiefly to be put on the humanity of the Savior, it may easily be shown that some portion of it appertained to the divinity. We are, of course, well aware that it was not possible for Christ, as God, to receive additions to his essential glory ; and, accordingly, it is generally concluded that the glory conferred on him at his exaltation, was a glory which devolved exclusively on his tnanhood. It ought however to be borne in mind, that, though Christ was the eternal Son of God, equal to the Father in all properties and preroga- tives of Deity, he had been but injper- fectly manifested under the old dispen- sation, so that he received not the ho- nors due to him as essentially divine. You can hardly say that the second and third Persons of the Trinity were so revealed, before the coming of Christ, as to be secure of the reverence, or worship, to which they have right as one with the first. We are now indeed able to find indications in the Old Tes- tament of the doctrine of the Trinity : but this is mainly because of the light which is thrown on its pages from those of the New. If we had nothing but the Old Testament, if Ave were wholly without the assistance of a fuller revelation, we should be amply informed as to the unity of the God- head, and thus be secured against po- lytheism : but probably we should have but faint apprehensions of a Trinity in the Godhead, and be unable to worship Father, Son, and Spirit, as the eternal, indivisible, Jehovah. Accordingly, we have always agreed with those who would argue, that the plan of redemption was constructed with the design of revealing to the world the Trinity in the Godhead ; so that, whilst the thing done should be the deliverance of our race, the man- ner of doing it might involve the mani- festation of those Divine Persons, who had heretofore scarce had place in hu- 350 THE ASCENSION OF CHRIST. man theology.* It was a , fuller dis- covery of the nature of God, as well as the complete redemption of the na- ture of man, which was contemplated in the arrangements made known to us by the Gospel; the Son and the Spirit came forth from the obscurity in which they had been heretofore veiled, that they might show their es- sential Deity in the offices assumed, and establish a lasting claim to our love by the benefits conferred. And when Christ, in that prayer to his Fa- ther which occupies the seventeenth chapter of St. John's Gospel, and which was offered but a short time before his crucifixion, entreated that he might be glorified with a glory which had origi- nally been his, "And now, Father, glorify thou me with thine own self, with the glory which I had with thee before the world was," must he not have referred to a glory appertaining to his divine nature, rather than to his human"? Whatever the glory that was about to descend on the manhood, it could not be described as a glory which he had had with the Father be- fore the world was: his humanity was not then in being ; and we know not how in any but a most forced sense, it could be said that Christ possessed, from all eternity, the glory which was to be given to the humanity not then produced. But if you consider our Lord as referring to his divinity, it is not difficult to understand his petition. From everlasting he had been the Son of God ; and, therefore, there had be- longed to him an immeasurable glory, a glory of which no creature could partake, inasmuch as it was derived from his being essentially divine. But, though essentially divine, he had not been manifested as divine ; and hence the glory, which had appertained to him before the world was, had not yet become conspicuous: it was still, at least, partially concealed ; for crea- tures had not yet been fully taught that they were to "honor the Son, even as they honor the Father." But now he was on the point of being ex- alted; and his prayer was, that he might be glorified with the very glory which he had originally possessed ; in other words, that he might be display- * Waterland, Bishop Bull, &c. ed to the world as actually divine, and thus might be openly, what he had all along been essentially, glorious with the glories of absolute Deity. And you must all confess that it is a great point with us as christians, a point in comparison of which almost every other may be regarded as se- condary, that the essential deity of Christ should be fully demonstrated, and that there should be nothing to encourage the opinion that he was but a creature, however loftily endowed. But suppose that Christ had remained with us upon earth ; or suppose, that, having ascended, and thus proved the completeness of the redemption of our nature, he had returned to abide con- tinually with his church. Would the covenanted recompense, so far as it consisted in the manifestation of his deity, have then been bestowed 1 Could Christ's equality with the Father have been shown convincingly to the world, whilst he still moved, in the form of a man, through scenes polluted by sin"? To us it seems, that, under such a dis- pensation as the present, the continued residence of the Mediator upon earth would practically be regarded as con- tradicting his divinity. The question would perpetually be asked, whether this being could indeed be essentially divine, who was left, century after cen- tury, in a state of humiliation'? for it must be humiliation for Deity to dwell in human form on this earth, so long at least as it is the home of wickedness and misery. And it would be nothingi against this, that he was arrayed with surpassing majesty, and continually ex-i hibited demonstrations of supremacy^ The majesty, which moreover could! only be seen by few at one time, would cease to dazzle when it had been often beheld; and the demonstrations of su- premacy would lose their power after frequent repetition. We think that the| common feelings of our nature warrant our being sure, that there would be im- mense difficulty in persuading a con- gregation, like the present, to kneel down and worship, as God, a being of whom they were told that he was dwelling as a man in Jerusalem, or some other city of the earth. And then you are to remember, that, even if his essential Deity had been manifested to men, he must probably have been with- THE ASCENSION OF CHRIST. 351 drawn from other ranks of intelligence : for would it not almost imply a sepa- ration, which cannot take place, of his divinity from his humanity, to suppose him personally discovering his uncrea- ted splendors in other parts of the uni- verse, whilst he still dwelt in a body where he had suffered and died 1 So then we cannot well see how there could have been the thorough manifestation of the divinity of the Son, which had been almost hidden under earlier dispensations, had not Christ ascended up on high, and taken his seat at the right hand of the Father. We stay not to inquire how far the glory, which had been promised to his humanity, might have been bestowed, had there been nothing of this exaltation, or had it not been permanent. We con- fine ourselves to the glory which was to accrue to the divinity ; for all our hopes rest on the demonstration which God gave, that Christ was his Son, co- eternal and co-equal with himself. And if we were to ask evidence that he, who had been crucified and buried, was ne- vertheless a divine person, what should that evidence be 1 We would not ask the mere resurrection of this person, though that must of course form the first part of our proof. We would not ask his mere ascension ; for if he might not tarry in the heavens, we should doubt whether they were indeed his rightful home. We would ask that he might be received into the dwelling- place of God, and there and thence wield all the authority of omnipotence. We would ask that angel and archan- gel, principality and power, might ga- ther round his throne, as they were wont to do round that of the Father, and render to him, notwithstanding his human form, the homage which they render only to their Maker. We would ask that he should be withdrawn from mortal view, since Deity dwells " in light which no man can approach un- to ;" but that, from his inaccessible and invisible throne, he should direct all the affairs of this earth, hearing the prayers, supplying the wants, and fight- ing the battles of his church, and thus giving as continued proofs of omnipre- sence as are to be found in the agen- cies of the material creation. And this is precisely the demonstration which has been furnished. On testimony, than which even that of the senses could not be more convincing, we believe that the Lord our Redeemer, the very person who sorrowed and suffered up- on earth, is invested with all the hon- ors, and exercises all the powers, of absolute Deity; and that, though he still retains his human form, there has been committed to him authority which no creature could wield, and there is given him a homage which no creature could receive. What though the hea- vens have received him out of our sight 1 there have come messages from those heavens informing us of his solemn en- thronement as "King of kings, and Lord of lords ;" and notes of the celes- tial minstrelsy are borne to mortal ears, celebrating the Son of the virgin as the great "I am," who was, and is, and is to come. And it is in consequence of such messages that thousands, and tens of thousands, of the inhabitants of this earth, bow at the name of Jesus ; and that vast advances have already been made towards a splendid consumma- tion, when the sun, in his circuit round our globe, shall shine on none but the worshippers of " the Lamb that was slain." Is this a result in which we rejoice 1 Is it indeed cause of gladness to us, that the divinity of the Son, veiled not only during the days of his humiliation in flesh, but throughout the ages which preceded the incarnation, has been glo- riously manifested, so that he is known and worshipped as Godi Then, if this be matter of rejoicing, we must be pre- pared to be glad, that, in ascending from Olivet, the Mediator ascends to Cix his abode in the heavens. This full manifestation of divinity required hea- ven as its scene, and could not have been effected ow the narrow and pol- luted stage of our earth. Yes, we must be glad that the ascending Savior is not to return, because by not return- ing he is to show forth his Godhead. And, therefore, we can-again address the heavenly hosts, shining and beauti- ful beings, who are marshalling the way, in solemn pomp, for "the^High Priest of our profession." We know- why ye, celestial troop, exult in his return. He ascends to be the light of your abode; and ye triumpli in the thought that he is to be eternally with you. And even we can share your ex- 352 THE ASCENSION OF CHRIST. ultation, we, from whom he departs, and who are no longer to be delighted by his presence. We feel that within the veil alone can his recompense be bestowed, a recompense which could not be withheld without the darkening of all our best hopes: let, then, our voices mingle with yours j for we too are ready to pour forth the summons, "Lift up your heads, ye gates, and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors, and the King of glory shall come in." But we must carry our argument yet further. Let it be supposed that the promised recompense might have been fully conferred upon Christ, without his departure or absence — the recompense that was to belong to his divinity, as well as that of which his humanity was to be the subject — we may still show that his ascension and exaltation should furnish us with great matter of rejoic- ing. It is clearly stated in Scripture, that the descent of the Holy Ghost, as the guide and comforter of the church, could not take place whilst Christ re- mained on earth. We are probably not competent to the discovering the rea- sons for this ; but if we consider the scheme of redemption as constructed that it might manifest the three per- sons of the Godhead, we may see a special fitness in the departure of the Son before the coming of the Spirit. You cannot imagine a more thorough manifestation of the second and third persons than has thus been effected. The offices, respectively sustained in the Avork of our redemption, bring these persons distinctly before us, and that, too, in the manner best adapted to gain for them our love and veneration. The Son, having humbled himself for us, and thus bound us to himself by the closest ties, returned to take his seat in the heavens, and to be the object of worship to all ranks of intelligent be- ing. The scene was thus left ready for the entrance of the Spirit, who came down with every demonstration of al- mightiness, endowing the weak with superhuman powers, and instructing the illiterate in the mysteries of the Gospel. We will not presume to say that there could not have been this manifestation of the third person in the Trinity, had not the second ascended, and separated himself from the church. But, at least, we may urge that we have a facility in distinguishing the persons, now that the office of one upon earth has succeeded to that of the other, which we could hardly have had if those offices had been contemporane- ously discharged. Had the Son remain- ed visibly with us, we should probably have confounded his office with that of the Spirit: at all events we should not so readily have recognized a Trinity persons. Even as it is, the third per son is often practically almost hidden from us by the second : what then would it have been, had not the heavens receiv- ed Christ, that the Holy Ghost might be alone in his great work of renewing our nature 1 But, whatever may be our thoughts and conjectures, it is evidently the re- presentation of Scripture, that the Spir- it could not have descended, had not Christ returned to his Father, and fixed his residence in heaven. St. John ex- pressly speaks of the Holy Ghost as '^ not yet given, because that Jesus was not yet glorified." And our Lord him- self, desiring to comfort his disciples, who were overwhelmed with grief at the prospect of his departure, made this strong statement, "It is expedient for you that I go away ; for if 1 go not away, the Comforter will not come un- to you; but if I depart, I will send him unto you." Here, as you must all per- ceive, it is distinctly asserted that the Comforter could not come, unless Christ departed; whilst his coming is repre- sented as of such moment to the church, that it would be advantageously pro- cured even at the cost of that depar- ture. We are bound, therefore, in consid- ering what reasons there may be to ourselves for rejoicing in the exalta- tion of Christ, to assume that this ex- altation was indispensable to the de- scent of the Spirit on the day of pen- tecost, and to his presence with the church to expound and carry home the Gospel. And certainly, if we had no other reason to give why human voices should utter the summons of our text, this alone would suffice. Of what avail would it have been to us, that the Son had humbled himself, and wrestled, and died, on our behalf, had the Spirit not been given as a regenerating agent, to make effectual, in our own cases, what had been wrought out by Christ 1 Who THE ASCENSION OF CRRIST. 353 bnt this Spirit enabled apostles to com- bat the idolatries of the world, and gain a footing for Christianity on the earth? Who but this Spirit guided the pens of sacred historians, that distant ages might possess the precious record of the sayings and doings of the Redeem- er! Who but this Spirit now makes the Bible intelligible, throwing on its pages supernatural light, so that they burn and glow with the truths of eternity 1 Who but this Spirit convinces man of sin, produces in him that "godly sor- row" which " worketh repentance," and leads to the putting faith in the alone propitiation 1 Who but this Spirit gradually withdraws the afi'ections from what is perishable, animates by setting before the view the prizes of heaven, and so sanctifies fallen beings that they become meet for the unfading inherit- iance 1 Who but this Spirit comforts the mourning, confirms the wavering, di- irects the doubting, sustains the dying 1 The office of the Son may indeed be more ostensible ; it may more easily icommend itself to our attention, be- cause discharged in the form of a man ; but he can know little of vital, practi- ',:al Christianity, who supposes it more important than that of the Spirit. What the Son did for us was valuable, pecause to be followed by what the Spirit does : take away the agency of l-he third Person, and we are scarce iJenefited by the agony of the second. And if then it were an act of mercy, lot to be measured, that the Son of (jod descended to bear the punishment i)f our sins ; it was no less an act in- •[''olving all our happiness, that he de- ;>arted to send down the Comforter. Shall we then join in the chorus of an- i;els, when they throng the firmament la honor of the birth of the Kedeemer, ;nd shall we be silent when they cele- brate his return to the presence of his father 1 No ; if we have any value for hristianity as set up in the heart, and egulating the life, the departure of the jlediator will as much move our glad- ess as his coming. We are thankful iiiit intrepid preachers were found, i'ho, in the face of danger and death, |irried the cross into every district of lie earth. We are thankful that we iere not left to the uncertainties and |Tors of oral tradition, but that we live a volume in our hands with the broad signet of inspfration. We are thankful that men can repent, that they can be converted from the error of their ways, that they can "lay hold on the hope set before them," that they can "live soberly and righteously," die peacefully, and enter heaven triumph- antly. But for all this we are practi- cally as much indebted to the Spirit as to the Son. All this is virtually owing, not to the presence, but to the absence of the Mediator ; and, therefore, will we hearken for the song of the cheru- bim and seraphim, as, with every indi- cation of joy, tliey meet and encircle the ascending Head of the church ; and even from earth shall be heard a sum- mons, as though from the voices of those who are full of exultation, " Lift up your heads, ye gates, and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors, and the King of glory shall come in." Now we would recur for a few mo- ments, in winding up this great sub- ject of discourse, to the first reason which we gave why men should rejoice in the ascension of Christ. We spoke of this ascension as the ascension of our nature, so that the entrance of Christ into heavenly places was the proof of our restoration to' favoi-, and the pledge of our final admission into the paradise of God. And how noble, how elevating, is the thought, that it was indeed as our forerunner, as our representative, that Jesus passed into the presence of his Father. How glo- rious to take our stand, as it were, on the mount of Olives, to gaze on the Mediator, as he wings his flight to- wards regions into which shall enter nothing that defileth, and to feel that he is cleaving a way for us, the fallen and polluted, that we too may enter the celestial city. AVhat were the words which angels addressed to the disci- ples, as they strained their vision to catch another glimpse of their depart- ing Lordl " Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven'? This same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven." Then the ascension should cause our minds to go forward, and fix themselves on the second advent of the Lord. Waste not your time, the angels seem to say, in regrets that your Master is taken from your view; rather 45 354 THE ASCENSION OF CHRIST. let faith anticipate a moment, when, " in like manner," with the clouds for his chariot, and flying " on the wings of the wind," he shall return to the earth from which he has just now de- parted. The gates shall again lift up their heads ; the everlasting doors shall be opened ; and the King of glory, who now enters to assume the sovereignty won by his sufferings and death, shall come forth in all the pomp, and with all the power, of the anointed Judge of humankind. He shall come forth in the very cha- racter under which admission is claim- ed for him in the text, " The Lord strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in battle." As yet there have been ac- complished but a portion of the Old Testament types : tho High Priest has offered the sacrifice, and carried the blood within the vail ; but he has not yet returned to bless the gathered mul- titude. The cry however shall yet be heard at midnight ; and '' the Lord strong and mighty" shall approach, to confound every enemy, and complete the salvation of his church. And if we would be " found of him in peace" on this his return, we must see to it that we provide our lamps with oil in the days of our strength. I do not know a more awful part of Scripture than the parable of the ten virgins, to which, as you will perceive, we here make allu- sion. We are always fearful of dwell- ing too strongly on the minuter parts of a parable ; but there is something so singular in the fact, that the foolish virgins went to seek oil so soon as they heard of the bridegroom's ap- proach, but were nevertheless exclud- ed, that we dare not pass it by as con- veying no lesson. If the parable admit of being applied, as we suppose it must in a modified sense, to the circumstan- ces of our death, does it not seem to say that a repentance, to which wo are driven by the approach of dissolution, will not be accepted 1 The foolish vir- gins sought not for oil, till alarmed by tidings that the bridegroom \vas at hand 5 and many think that it will be enough if they give heed to religion when they shall have reason to appre- hend that their last day is not distant. But the foolish virgins, although, as it would seem, they obtained oil, were indignantly shut out from the banquet j what then is to become of sinners, who, I in the day of sickness, compelled by 1 the urgency of their case, and frighted by the nearness of their end, show some- thing like sorrow, and profess some- thing like faith I I own that nothing makes me thinki j so despondingly of those who wholly neglect God, till they feel themselves dying, as this rejection of the virgins, who would not begin to seek oil till they found the bridegroom at hand, and then obtained it in vain. It is as though God said. If you will not seek me in health, if you will not think of me till sickness tell you that you must soon enter my presence, I will surely reject you: when you knock at the door and say, "Lord, Lord, open ^to us," I will answer from within, " I ne- ver knew you : depart, depart from me." We dare not dwell upon this: we have a hundred other reasons for being suspicious of what is called death-bed repentance ; but this seems to make that repentance — ay, though the death be that of consumption, and the patient linger for months, with his senses about him, and his time appa- rently given to the duties of religion — of no avail whatever: for if the man obstinately neglected God, till alarmed by the hectic spot on his cheek, that hectic spot was to him what the mid- night cry was to the virgins, the signal that the bridegroom was near; and what warrant have we that God will admit him to the feast, if the five vir- gins were excluded with every mark of abhorrence, though they sought for |, oil, and bought it, and brought it"? | ^'■ We bring before you this very awfu! suggestion, that none of you may thinl; it too soon to prepare to meet the Sa- vioi", whose ascension we have com- memorated, and for whose return we are directed to look. Let all, the young' and the old, be ever on the watch, vvitl: the loins girt, the lamps trimmed, and the lights burning. Let not that day overtake any of us "as a thief," as s thief not more because coming steal thily and unexpectedly, than because it will strip us of our confidence, an leave us defenceless. But if we nou give diligence to "add to our faitr virtue, and to virtue knowledge, and u knowledge temperance ;" if we labc; to be "found of him in peace," appro THE SPIRIT trPON THE ■WATERS. 355 priating to ourselves his promises, on- ly as we find ourselves conformed to his precepts; then let ''the Lord, strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in battle," appear in the heavens : we shall be " caught up to meet him in the air, and so shall we ever be Avith the Lord." Glorious transformation ! glorious translation ! I seem already to behold the wondrous scene. The sea and the land have given up their dead: the quickened myriads have been judged according to their works. And now an innumerable company, out of all nations, and tribes, and tongues, ascend with the Mediator towards the kingdom of his Father. Can it be that these, who were born children of wrath, who were long enemies to God by wicked works, are to enter the bright scenes of paradise 1 Yes, he who leads them, has washed them in his blood; he who leads them, has sancti- fied them by his Spirit ; and now you may hear his voice in the summons, "Lift up your heads, ye gates, and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors; and these, my ransomed ones, shall come in, and behold, and share my glories." SERMON VIII. THE SPIRIT UPON THE WATERS.* And the earth was without foiin and void : and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters." — Genesis, 1 : 2, We are required on this day, by the jirdinance of the church, to consider 'pecially the person and work of the bird person in the Trinity. The pre- lent festival is in commemoration of iiat great event, the pentecostal eflu- ;ion of the Spirit, an event not inferior 'a importance to the incarnation of the '■on. We say, not inferior in import- !nce, for it would avail us little that ademption has been achieved by one j'ivine person, if it were not applied, jr made efTectual, by another. There s so much to fix, and even engross, fur attention in the work of the Son ; lie humiliation, the sufferings, and the liccess, are so conspicuous and con- I'Unding, that we may easily become omparatively unmindful of what we i.ve to the Father and the Spirit ; 'ough the persons of the Trinity are )t more one in .essence and dignity. than in their claim on our love, and their title to our veneration. It is of great worth, therefore, that the church has instituted such com- memorations as the present; for, by bringing before us in succession the mysteries of our faith, and the various blessings provided for our race, they do much towards preventing our dwell- ing on one doctrine or benefit, to the exclusion of others which deserve equal thought. There would have been the same stupendousness and virtue in the work of the Son, if it had never been followed by the descent of the Spirit. But then if it be true, that our hearts are naturally averse from God and holiness, so that, of ourselves, we are unable to repent, and lay hold on The outline of this sermon has been partly de- rived from that of a discourse by Dr. Donne on the last clause of the verse. 355 THE SPIRIT UPON THE WATERS. the proffered, but conditional, deliver- go back to the earliest times, and see of what use is it that such cost- ly provision has been made on our be- half, unless there be also provision for onr being strengthened to make it our own 1 Thus such festivals as Christ- mas and Easter, and such commemo- rations as Good Friday, though they might remind us of sublime and awful things, would bring before us nothing that could be practically of worth to fallen creatures, if they were not to be followed by a Whitsunday, when mio-ht be celebrated the coming down of a divine agent to renew the cor- rupt nature. On this day, the third person of the Trinity descended to tabernacle upon earth, as on Christ- mas day the second was " found in fashion as a man." And not deeper, nor more abundant, should be our gra- titude, that, " for us men and for our salvation," '' the Word was made flesh," than that, " with the sound as of a rushing mighty wind," the Com- forter came to take the things of Christ, and show them to the soul. We have endeavored on former re- currences of the present solemnity, to explain to you the scriptural doctrine as to the person and work of the Holy Ghost. We have labored, to show you, that the Spirit of God is not, as some have vainly taught, a mere quality, at- tribute,' or property of God ; but, in the strictest sense, a Divine person, pos- sessing the divine nature, filling divine offices, and performing divine acts. And as to the work of this person, we have described it to be that of reno- vating and sanctifying our nature ', so that, by secret suggestions and im- pulses, by exciting good desires, by strengthening our powers and recti- fying our affections, by quickening our understandings to the perception of truth, and inclining our wills to obedi- ence, he restores in us the lost image of God, and fits us for " the inheritance of the saints in light." Statements such as these, with regard to the personali- ty and offices of the Holy Ghost, have been so frequently laid before you, that we can hardly consider their re- petition necessary. We shall not, there- fore, employ the present opportunity on proving what we may believe that you admit, or explaining what we may hope that you understand. But we will whether even then, ere this creation rose in its beauty, the Spirit of God was not mightily energetic, performing such wonders on inanimate matter as imaged the yet stranger which he was afterwards to perform upon mind. It is not, however, that we design to lay great stress on arguments in sup- port of the doctrine of the Trinity, which have been fetched from the very commencement of the Bible. We will only glance at those arguments. You are probably aware, that, in the first verse of the book of Genesis, where it is said, " In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth," the He- brew v.'ord, translated '' God," is in the plural, whilst that rendered " created," is in the singular. From this it has been argued, with much appearance of truth, that Moses announces, in the very first line of his writings, a plurality of persons in the Godhead; for on what supposition are we to explain the com- bination of a plural noun with a singu- lar verb, unless we allow that God may be spoken of in the plural, because there are several persons in the God- head, and at the sanne time in the sin- gular, because those persons consti- tute the one indivisible Jehovah 1 If we had nothing but this verbal criti- cism, on which to rest the doctrine of a plurality of persons in the Godhead, we might feel it insufficient for so weighty a superstructure. But we may fairly say, that, when we have proved the doctrine on less questionable evi- dence, there can be no reason for our rejecting this auxiliary testimony, a testimony peculiarly interesting from the place in which it occurs, seeing that the Bible thus commences withai intimation of the Trinity in unity. And it is remarkable, that, having thus hinted at there being several per sons in the Godhead, Moses immedi- ately proceeded to speak of one oi these persons, and to ascribe to Him a great office in the construction of this globe. If indeed this were the onlj passage in which we found mention ol the Spirit of God, we should hardly be warranted in concluding from it th( personality and Deity of the Hoi} Ghost. Had our text stood alone, i might perhaps with justice have beei said, that nothing more was intendec THE SPIRIT UPON THE WATERS. 357 by the Spirit of God, than an energy, or quality, appertaining to God. But when we have fortified ourselves from other Scriptures with abundant evi- dence that^ the Spirit is a person, and that too a Divine person, it is highly interesting to turn to the opening of the Bible, and there to find this agent ! introduced into the business of crea- ; tion — the earliest historian combining ; with the latest evangelist to proclaim ! his title, and to ascribe to him opera- tions which are beyond finite power. I i And if you further recollect, how, in 1 ( various parts of the New Testament, the work of creation is distinctly attri- buted to Christ, as the eternal Son or I Word of God ; and then observe the j same work ascribed, in the first page [ of Scripture, to the Spirit of God ; you I can hardly fail to allow that the great i doctrine of the Trinity pervades the •whole Bible: it is not indeed stated • j every where so distinctly that it can- . i not be overlooked ; but it may easily I j be detected in passages whose witness ' to it might be doubtful, if we were not certified by others of its truth. But it is very important, that, in our contests for fundamental articles of i faith, we should not rest on weak or ! dubious arguments. An insufficient de- i fence is a great injury to truth. Whilst, i then, we believe^that there really are 1 traces of the doctrine of the Trinity in the passages to which we have refer- red, and in similar which might be ad- duced, we should hold it unwise to lay much stress upon them in debate with the Unitarian. They are not our strong points ; and we give him an advantage by insisting on our weaker. Thus, for example, we may be ourselves quite persuaded, that the recorded appear- jance of God to Abraham in the plain jof Mamre, was a manifestation to that i patriarch of the Trinity in unity. Three Smen appeared, and yet only the Lord is said to have appeared: and each of [the three persons used language, or idid things, which went to the proving (him divine. Our church accordingly fixes as one of the lessons for Trinity Sunday, the chapter which contains the account of this appearance. Still, though we may be quite satisfied that there was thus given a symbolical no- tice of the doctrine of the Trinity, we would not attach weight to it in argu- ing with the opponent of the doctrine : we feel that he might easily urge ma- ny specious objections, and that we should take dangerous ground by ap- pealing to an occurrence, whose signi- ficative character is not asserted in Scripture. But whilst we thus caution you against taking as sufficient arguments, what, after all, may be only doubtful intimations, we may yet affirm it both pleasing and profitable, to mark what may be called the first hints of truths, which were to be afterwards clearly re- vealed. There is all the difference be- tween what will be likely to work con- viction in an adversary, and what may minister to the confidence of a believ- er. And if the Unitarian will not go with me into patriarchal times, and trace on the yet young creation the vestiges of an incarnate Deity, it may tend greatly to the strensfthening my own faith, and the heightening my own joy, that I can follow ''the angel of the covenant," as he appears and disap- pears amongst the fathers of our race : and though I may not count it safe to rest the doctrine of the Trinity on the earliest inspired records, I may observe with delight that God spake in the plu- ral number when he formed Adam of the dust, and be confirmed in my creed by hearing, that, whilst the earth was "without form and void," "the Spirit of God moved on the face of the wa- ters." But we will now leave this more ge- neral discussion, and confine ourselves to the examination of the words of our text. We shall hereafter give you rea- sons for considering that these words admit of a two-fold application — to na- tural things and to spiritual. At pre- sent we assume this, and therefore an- nounce the two following as our topics of discourse — the first, the moving of God's Spirit on the waters of the ma- terial creation ; the second, his mov- ing on waters, of which these may be regarded as in some degree typical. Now there has been much anxiety felt in modern times by the supporters of revelation, on account of alleged discoveries in science, which apparent- ly contradict the Mosaic record of the creation. W^e had been accustomed to conclude, with the Bible for our guide, that this globe was not quite six thou- 358 THE SPIRIT UPON THE WATERS. sand years old ; that, six thousand years ago, the matter of which it is composed was not in existence, much less was it the home of animal or vegetable life. We had been accustomed to think, that, unless man had fallen, there would have been no decay and no death in this creation, so that every beast of the field would have walked in immortal strength, and every tree of the forest have waved in immortal verdure. But modern science is quite counter to these our suppositions and conclusions: for the researches of the geologist oblige us to assign millions, rather than thou- sands, of years as the age of this globe, and to allow it to have been tenanted by successive tribes of living things, long before the time when man was summoned into being. It would in no sense be fitting that Ave should here examine the facts, or the reasoni'igs, by which the geologist substantiates his position. But we are bound to declare our persuasion, that, to any candid mind, the facts and the reasonings, duly scrutinized and weigh- ed, must appear quite conclusive ; so that every student of the structure, every inquirer into the phenomena of the globe on which we dwell, must, we think, be almost forced to acknowledge that the earth bears on itself dates which prove well-nigh immeasurable antiquity, and contains the relics of animated tribes, whose existence can never be brought within the limits of human chronology. It is of no avail that we shut our eyes to the progress of science, and entrench ourselves within old interpretations of Scripture. We must go forward with the general advance of knowledge: for unless the- ology can at least keep pace with phi- losophy, it shall hardly be able to cope with infidelity. And, for our own part, we have no fear that any discoveries of science will really militate against the disclosures of Scripture. We remember how, in darker days, ecclesiastics set them- selves against philosophers, who were investigating the motions of the hea- venly bodies, apprehensive that the new theories were at variance with the Bible, and therefore resolved to denounce them as heresies, and stop their spread by persecution. But truth triumphed ; bigotry and ignorance could not long prevail to the hiding from the world the harmonious walkings of stars and planets ; and ever since, the philo* sophy which laid open the wonders ofl the universe, hath proved herself the handmaid of the revelation which di- vulged secrets far beyond her gaze. And thus, we are persuaded, shall it always be : science may scale new heights, and explore new depths ; but she shall bring back nothing from her daring and successful excursions, which will not, when rightly understood, yield a fresh tribute of testimony to the Bi- ble. Infidelity may watch her progress with eagerness, exulting in the thought that she is furnishing facts with which the christian system may be strongly assailed ; but the champions of revela- tion may confidently attend her in eve- ry march, assured that she will find nothing which contradicts, if it do not actually confirm, the word which they know to be divine. For though it may be true that we- have no right to look in the Bible for instruction in natural things, it appears to us equally true, that we have right to expect that it will contain nothing that is false in reference to any sub- ject whatsoever. It does not profess to treat of natural things ; and, therefore, it would be unjust to open it with the expectation that natural things will be explained in its pages. But it does profess to be throughout an inspired! document, and therefore to contain no thing but truth; and we think it, oni! this account, most just to expect, that, i if it ever make a reference, however: incidental, to natural things, the refer-: ence will be one which may be tested : by all scientific discoveries, and prov- ec* hx thorough consistence therewith. I We count it most important that this; distinction should be borne in mind ; for whilst we hold that it would be no argument against revelation, if it were wholly silent on the structure of the earth, and the motions of the heavens — seeing that its object is to unfold to us yet deeper things — we equally hold that it would be an argument against it, if it ever spake of these matters in a way that would not bear being con- fronted with ascertained truths. It is thus with regard to the discoveries of the geologist. We should have had no right to require, as a necessary part THE SPIRIT UPON THE WATERS. 359 of a revelation from God, an account of the formation of our material sys- tem. The Bible might perhaps have been complete for ^all rnoral purposes, if there had been no such account on its pages. But if the inspired writer take upon himself to give an account of the formation of the earth and the heavens, we have full right to expect that his account will be thoroughly accurate ; and we cannot but think, that if this account were absolutely ir- reconcilable with established conclu- sions of geology, some cause would be given for questioning whether Mo- ses wrote under the guidance of the Spirit of God. But there has not yet been, and we are sure there never will be, made out the impossibility of reconciling the dis- coveries of geology with the Mosaic account- of the creation. We would adopt the statement which has been increasingly adopted and supported by our divines, that the two first verses of tiie book of Genesis have no immedi- ate connection with those that follow. They describe the first creation of mat- ter ; but, so far as any thing to the contrary is stated, a million of ages may have elapsed between this first creation, and God's saying "Let there be light," and proceeding to mould mutter into a dwelling-place for man. You cannot show that the third verse is necessarily consecutive on the two first, so that what is recorded in the one may not be separated, by a long interval, from what is recorded in the others. On the contrary, it is clear that the interval may be wholly indefinite, quite as long as geology can possibly ask for all those mighty transforma- tions, those ponderous successions, of which it aflirms that it can produce in- dubitable evidence. And we cannot but observe the extreme accuracy of the scriptural language. It seems to be no- where said that in six days God crea- ted the heavens and the earth ; but, as in the fourth commandment, that, " in ^ix days the Lord made heaven and earth." Creation was the act of bring- ing out of nothing the matter of which ;ill things were constructed ; and this was done before the six days ; after- u'ards, and during the six days, God made the heaven and the earth ; he iGulded, that is, and formed into dif- ferent bodies, the matter which he had long ago created. And it is no objec- tion to this, that God is said to have created man on the sixth day ; for you afterwards read that " God formed man of the dust of the ground;" so that it was of pre-existent matter that Adam was composed. We seem, therefore, warranted in saying that with the third verse of the first chapter of Genesis commences the account of the produc- tion of the present order and system of things; and that to this IMoses con- fines himself, describing the earth as made ready for man, without stopping to speak of its previous conditions. But since he does not associate the first creation of matter with this pre- paration of the globe for its rational inhabitants, he in no degree opposes the supposition, that the globe existed immeasurably before man, that it un- derwent a long series* of revolutions, was tenanted by animals, and clothed with vegetation. And though you may think it strange that there should have been death be- fore there had been sin, you are to re- member that there is nothing in the Bi- ble to inform us that animals die be- cause man was disobedient. We may have been accustomed to think so ; but we do not see how it can be proved. And when you observe that Avhole tribes of animals are made to prey upon others, this species being manifestly designed for the food of that, you will perhaps find it hard to believe that ev- ery living thing was originally meant to live for ever; you will ask something better than a popular persuasion, ere you conclude that the insect of a dav was intended to be immortal; or that what is the appointed sustenance of a stronger race, was also appointed to be actually indestructible. These then are the general views which we think furnished by, or, at least, consistent with our text and the preceding verse. We take these verses as the only record which God hath been pleased to give of a mysterious, and probably immense, period, whose archives are found, by the scientific eye, sculptured on the rocks, or buried in the caves of the earth. They refer to ages, in comparison perhaps of which the human chronology is but a span, and of which, though we have received 360 THE SPIRIT UPON THE WATERS. no written history, we can read the transactions in the fuel which we heap on our fires, and in the bones which we dig from our hills. And there ap- pears to us something surpassingly su- blime in the thought, that our text may be thus the general description of an indefinite interval, from the creation of matter to the production of man. We do not know a grander contemplation than that to which the mind is sum- moned, when required to consider this globe as of an antiquity which almost bafiles calculation, and as having been prepared, by changes which may have each occupied a series of ages, for the residence of beings created in the im- age of God. We know, of course, that, however far back we carry the origin of all things, there must have been a moment when God was literally alone in immensity; and that the longest, as well as the shortest, reach of time, must be as nothing in comparison of eternity. But, nevertheless, to minds constituted as our own, there is some- thing inconceivably more commanding in the thought, that the earth has ex- isted for ages which are not to be reck- oned, and that, from time immemorial it has been a theatre for the display of divine power and benevolence, than in this, that it rose out of nothing six thousand years ago. In the one case, but not in the other, we assign to the agency of God an immeasurable pe- riod, a period throughout which there have been swarms of animated things, which only God could have produced, and only God could have sustained; and thus represent Deity as pouring forth the riches of his wisdom and goodness, and gathering in the tribute of mute homage from unnumbered tribes, when, perhaps, there were yet no seraphim to hymn his praises, and no cherubim to execute his will. It is when surveyed under the point of view thus indicated, that our text appears most interesting and imposing. It is not, we suppose, the record of a solitary interference of creative might, but of a series of amazing revolutions, each of which was effected by the im- mediate agency of the Spirit of God. The earth passed from one state to an- other ; islands, and continents, and wa- ters assuming difl^erent forms and pro- portions, and being successively fitted \ for different living tribes. And, on each transition, there may have been such an overthrow of the previous system, and such an approximation towards the original chaos, that the earth may have been " without form and void," and darkness may have rested upon " the face of the deep." But, in each case, "the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters." The word is ra* ther, "brooded over the M'aters," as a hen, extending her wings, that vital warmth may be communicated, and the egg resolve itself into a living thing. The Spirit of God, whose especial of- fice it is to impart life and vigor, so acted on the inert and insensible par- ticles of the elemental mass, as to im- print on them those laws, and infuse into them those properties, which were to constitute what we are wont to call nature, under each successive dispen- sation. It was not that matter had any power or tendency, of itself, from its own inherent energies and qualities, to assume certain forms, and mingle in certain combinations. It was only that a vivifying Spirit busied itself with its innumerable atoms, communicating to each precisely what would fit it for its part or place in the new order of things; so that sea, and land, and air might swarm with the productions which God appointed to succeed to the extinct. And thus may revolution after revolu- tion have been effected, not so much through the operation of second causes, as through the mysterious, but mighty, brooding of that celestial Agent, who still acts as the vivifier, and still ex- tracts order and beauty from the moral chaos of humanity. One condition of the globe and its inhabitants may have succeeded to another, till, at length, the time approached when God had de- termined the production of a being who was to wear his likeness and act as his vicegerent. Then was the earth once more mantled with darkness : land and water v^^ere confounded : and the various tribes of animated nature per- ished in the elemental war. But a re- sistless agency was at work, permeat- ing the shapeless and boiling mass, and preparing it for edicts to be issued on what we ordinarily call the six days of creation. The globe was henceforward ; to be the dwelling-place of rational, yea, immortal beings ; it must there- i B t •sr THE SPIRIT UPON THE WATERS. 361 fore be impregnated with a fertility, and enamelled with a beauty, to which it had been heretofore a stranger ; and nobler things must walk its fields, and haunt its waters, fit subjects of a ruler who was to bear his Maker's image. With the adapting matter to this loftier and more glorious state of things was the third person of the Trinity charged, the agent, as we suppose, in every for- mer revolution. And when, at divine command, the earth brought forth the fresh green grass, and trees hung at once with varied fruit and foliage ; and the waters teemed with the moving species that have life ; and the dry land and the air v/ere crowded with stately and beautiful creatures, waiting the ap- pearance of their appointed lord, — Oh, ( jit was not that there were natural pro- i jcesses which had gradually wrought out the chambers and furniture of a magnificent palace : it was rather, that whilst " the earth was without form and void," the Spirit of God had "moved upon the face of the vv'aters." But we have now to ask your atten- tion to wholly different truths. We pro- posed, in the second place, to pass from inatural to spiritual things, and to con- ;sider our text in a figurative sense. We were, however, to give you rea- isons that might justify the two-fold jipplication of the passage. It may suf- ifice to observe, that the work attributed •0 the Holy Spirit in the text, may serve as a type of that which this di- i/ine agent came down at Pentecost to berform. The Gospel of St. John com- inences in the same strain, and with ihe same sublime abruptness, as the pook of Genesis: as though the histo- 'ians of the New Testament and of the 31d had to give the narratives of simi- ar creations. And forasmuch as that [noral change, which passes upon those [vho become heirs of the kingdom of keaven, is described in the Bible as lOthing less than a new creation, and s moreover ascribed to the agency of ihat Spirit which brooded over the wa- iers of the primitive chaos, there can, t least, be nothing unreasonable in the upposition that a typical character ttaches, in some degree, to the scrip- iral account of the formation of all lings. You will find it, we believe, to have een the general opinion of the fathers of the church, that the waters of which we read in the very beginning of the Bible, were a figure of those of bap- tism : so that, as the world may be said to have been produced from the wa- ters on which the Spirit first moved, the church may be said to come forth from those sacramental waters, whose virtue is derived from that self-same Spirit's brooding. In accordance with such opinion, we believe it to be spe- cially in and through the sacrament of baptism, that the Holy Ghost acts in renovating the nature, which became corrupt through apostacy. We depre- cate, indeed, as much as any man, the so ascribing virtue to a sacrament, that those who have partaken of it may be led to feel sure that they need no other change, no greater moral amelioration, than has been thereby effected or pro- cured. But, without doing this, we may attribute to baptism regenerating effi- cacy. We would ourselves be con- stantly using, and pressing upon others the use of the collect of our church for Christmas-day, in which the prayer is, '' Grant that we, being regenerate and made thy children by adoption and grace, may daily be renewed by thy Holy Spirit," a prayer in which the supplicants undeniably represent them- selves as already regenerate, and adopt- ed into God's family; but in which, ne- vertheless, they ask for daily renewal, and that too through the workings of God's Spirit. The church here evident- ly distinguishes between regeneration and renewal, just as the apostle does, when he speaks of being saved by " the washing of regeneration, and the re- newing of the Holy Ghost;" regenera- tion, you observe, being closely asso- ciated with water — " the washing of re- generation" — and not confounded with that renovation which the Holy Spirit efi^ects in true believers. If then the church say that regeneration takes place at baptism, she does not say that no renewal is needed besides this rege- neration; Avhy, therefore, should the church be taunted, as though she at- tached inordinate value to a sacrament, and taught men, that, because sprink- led in infancy, they stand in need of no further changed That the church of England does hold, and does teach, baptismal rege- neration, would never, we must ven- 46 362 THE SPIRIT UPON THE WATERS, ture to think, have been disputed, had not men been anxious to remain in iier communion, and yet to make her for- mularies square with their own private notions. The words put into the mouth of the officiating minister, immediate- ly after every baptism, " Seeing now, dearly beloved, that this child is rege- nerate," seem too distinct to be ex- plained away, and too general for any of those limitations by which some would restrict them. You may tell me that the church speaks only in the judg- ment of charity, on the supposition that there has been genuine faith in those who have brought the infant to the font. But, even on this modified view, the church holds baptismal rege- neration : she holds, that, if not invari- ably, yet under certain circumstances, infants are regenerate, only because baptized. We cannot, however, admit that the language is only the language of that charity which " hopeth all things." Had the church not designed to go further than this, she might have said, " Seeing that we may charitably believe," or, " Seeing that we may charitably hope that this child is rege- nerate:" she could never have ventur- ed on the broad unqualified declaration, a declaration to be made whensoever the sacrament of baptism has been ad- ministered, " Seeing that this child is regenerate ;" and then have gone on to require of the congregation to ex- press their gratitude in such words as these, " We yield thee hearty thanks, most merciful Father, that it hath plea- sed thee to regenerate this infant with thy Holy Spirit." We really think that no fair, no straightforward dealing can get rid of the conclusion, that the church holds what is called baptismal regeneration. You may dislike the doc- trine : you may wish it expunged from the prayer-book ; but so long as I sub- scribe to that prayer-book, and so long as I officiate according to the forms of that prayer-book, I do not see how I can be commonly honest, and yet de- ny that every baptized person is, on that account, regenerate. But then, if you charge on the church, that because she holds this, she holds that every baptized person has so un- dergone, that he must retain, all the moral change necessary for admission into heaven, you overlook other parts of the baptismal service which strong- ly rebut your accusation. No sooner has the church pronounced the infant regenerate, than she asks the prayers of the people, that " this child may lead the rest of his life according to this beginning" — evidently intimating her belief, that, though regenerate, the child may possibly not go on to that renewal of nature, which alone can se- cure godly living. And what are we to say of the appointment of sponsors, parties from whom the church requires vows in the name of the child, and to whom she commits the instruction of the child, if not that the church feels, that, whatever the benefits conferred by baptism, they remove not the ne- cessity for the use of all those means, by which sinners may be brought nigh to God, and upheld in a state of ac- ceptance 1 The church then holds that baptism regenerates : but the church does not hold that all who are thus regenerate, can never need any further moral change in order to fitness for heaven. And we freely own that we know not how, consistently with Scripture, the church could do otherwise than maintain, that what is called the se- cond birth is effected at baptism. Our Lord's words are very explicit, "Ex- cept a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven." It can hardly be| disputed that the being " born of vva-j ter" refers to baptism — any other in-| terpretation must be so strained, thatf to mention would be to refute it. But if we are " born of water " in baptism, do you mean to say that it is at somt other time that we are " born of the Spirit V Then there is a third birtli as well as a second ; and of this I do not think we read in any part of Scrip ture. The water and the Spirit seem compared to two agents which meeld in order to the production of a new creature. The birth spoken of is no from the water by itself, neither is i from the Spirit by itself: the similt would hardly have been drawn fronj a birth, had there not been agenciei; which might be said to combine, aw which might therefore be likened t» parents. Hence, if it be in baptism tha we are "born of water," it must alsc be in baptism that we are " born of th' t THE SPIRIT UPON THE WATERS. 363 Spirit " — otherwise you make Clirist speak of two births, where he nnani- festly speaks only of one ; and you re- present him moreover as using a simile which is scarcely in place, unless two agencies unite to effect a result. We believe then, in accordance with the doctrine of our church, a doctrine i ; of whose agreement with Scripture we ' s are thoroughly persuaded, that every baptized person has entered, in virtue of his baptism, on a condition so dif- ferent from his natural, become enti- tled to such privileges, and endowed with such grace, that he may be de- scribed as regenerate, or born again from above. He may fail to be finally ' advantaged by this adoption into God's visible family. He may not be trained \ up as a member of that family should i be trained: there may be no attempt ) jat making use of his privileges, none [ I at acquiring or cherishing the disposi- : itions which should characterize God's 'children, none at consolidating and perpetuating that membership which was derived to him by his initiation into the church. But this is only say- ing, that, having been made a child of God, he may fail at last to be an heir of the kingdom, through failing to con- form himself to the known will, and to improve the offered mercies, of his Fa- !ther in heaven. He may be reckoned jwith the sons, because he has been re- generated, and nevertheless be disin- herited at the last, because he has ne- iver labored after, and therefore never 'acquired, that thorough moral renewal, of which his regeneration was at once ithe pledge and the commencement. I Let us pause for a moment, and en- [deavor to explain how it comes to pass ■that there is so little of visible effica- cy in the sacrament of baptism. We iWould illustrate from the account of jthe restoration of the daughter of Jai- ;rus: Christ raised her from the dead iby miracle ; but immediately command- fed that means should be used for sus- jtammg the life thus supernaturally com- municated. " And her spirit came again, jind she arose straightway ; and he Commanded to give her meat." We i^an gather the history of the uncon- i^erted amongst you from this simple narrative. Whilst they were yet young, 00 young to feel or act for themselves, heir parents were conscious that they labored under great moral sickness, a sickness which was even unto death j and they went therefore to Jesus, and besought him to make them whole. And, by command of the great Physi- cian, were the children sprinkled with the waters of baptism, and thus made members of his church, and heirs of his kingdom. Here was miracle : the child of wrath became a child of God : the guilt of original sin was removed j and a right acquired to all those gra cious privileges, through which, dili- gently used, the life may be preserved which is imparted in baptism. We be- lieve of these baptized children, that, had they died ere old enough to be morally accountable, they would have been admitted into heaven : and, there- fore, do we also believe that they pass- ed, at baptism, from death unto life, so that, in their case, baptism was instru- mental to the recovery of the immorta- lity forfeited in Adam. But when Christ had thus wrought a miracle, wrought it through the energies of the Spirit brooding on the waters, he issued the same command as to Jairus, and desired that meat should be given to those whom he had quickened. So long as the children were too young to take care of themselves, this command im- plied that their parents, or guardians, were to be diligent in instilling into their minds the principles of righteousness, instructing them as to the vows which had been made, and the privileges to which theyhad been ad mitted at baptism. So soon as the children had reached riper years, the command implied that they should use, with all earnestness, the appointed means of grace, and es- pecially that they should feed, through the receiving another sacrament, on that body and blood which are the sus- tenance of a lost world. And we quite believe, that, wheresoever the com- mand is faithfully obeyed, the life, com- municated in baptism, will be preserv- ed as the infant advances to maturity. But unhappily, in far the majority of instances, the command is altogether disobeyed. The parents give the child no meat ; and the child, when it can act for itself, attends to every thing rather than the sustenance of the spi- ritual life. Even religious parents are often to blame in this matter: for, not duly mindful of the virtues of baptism, 364» THE SPIRIT UPON THE WATERS. they address their children, as though they were heathens, in place of admo- nishing them, as members of Christ, to take heed how they let slip the grace they have received. And as to irreli- gious parents, who are not careful of their own souls, but live in neglect of those means through which is to be maintained the membership with Christ which baptism procures — what can we expect from them, but that they will suffer the principle of life to languish in their children, so that we shall have a multitude with no signs of moral ani- mation, although they have been '' born again of water and of the Spirit V When, therefore, we are told, that, not- Avithstanding the use of the sacrament of baptism, the great mass of men have evidently undergone no renewal of na- ture ; and when it is argued from this, that there cannot necessarily be any regeneration in baptism ; our answer is simply, that God works by means as well as miracle ; that means are to sustain what miracle implants ; and that, therefore, the same appearance will be finally presented, if means be neglected, as if miracle were not wrought. But,' to recur to our ' text : if we have rightly expounded the church's views with reference to baptism, we may well agree with the ancient fathers, who found the waters of baptism in those v/aters which covered the solid matter of this earth, and on which the Spirit of God moved, or brooded, with vivi- fying energy. You are not told, that by this moving or brooding on the waters, the Spirit actually produced this present globe, wrought it into the structure, and clothed it with the orna- ments, which fitted it for the residence of man. All that seems to have been done, was the infusing such properties into matter, or the bringing it into such a condition, that it stood ready for the various processes of vegeta- tion and life, but still waited the word of the Almighty ere the trees sprang forth and animated tribes moved re- joicingly on its surface. And what is this but a most accurate representation of what we suppose effected in bap- tism'? We have not so described to yon the virtues of this sacrament, as to lead you to believe that the child, on emerging from the waters, is so trans- formed into the likeness of God as to be sure of a place in that city into which shall enter nothing that defilelh. We have only maintained, that, by the operation of the Holy Spirit in and through baptism, the child is brought into such a relation to God, so purged from the guilt of original sin, so ga- thered within the covenant of forgive- ness, so consigned to all the blessings of adoption, that it may be declared impregnated with the elements of spi- ritual life, elements which, if not wil- fully crushed, shall shoot into efflores- cence and vigor beneath the creative word of the Gospel of Christ. Thus the parallel is perfect — there being only this difference, that inanimate matter, prepared by the Spirit, was sure to of- fer no resistance, but to resolve itself, at divine bidding, into the appointed forms ; whereas the human soul, though similarly prepared, may withstand the quickening word, and refuse to bring forth the fruits of righteousness. But this is the only difference, a difference which necessarily follows on that be- tween matter and mind. For , as the rude and undigested chaos, unapt for vefjetation, untraversed by life, became, beneath the broodings of the Spirit on the overspread waters, enabled for fer- tility, and pregnant with vitality, so that yet wilder and more unshapen thing, a fallen man, passing through these mystic waters on which the Ho- ly Ghost moves, is made a fit subject for the renewing word of the Gospel, j that word which clothes with moral! beauty, and nerves with moral strength. He may resist the word which com- mands that the earth bring forth the green herb, and that land and water teem with proof that the voice of the Lord has been heard. Nevertheless, he. has been put at baptism into such a| condition, there has been communicat-| ed such an aptness for hearkening to the word, and obeying its injunctions,!) that the very globe, with its fields and! forests, and varied tenantry, shall wit- ness against him at the judgment, prov- ing itself less senseless and obdurate,, seeing that it arose from its baptism,j ready, at God's command, to be ena-j melled with verdure and crowned withi animation. And, on the other hand, when we see an individual grooving up " in the nurture and admonition of t I THE SPIRIT UPON THE WATERS. 365 the Lord," steadily acting out the vows, claiming the privileges, and exhibiting the benefits of baptism ; so that life is, from the first, a progress towards spiritual perfection j we think it not strange if he cannot tell us the day of his conversion, if he can only describe an acquaintance with God, and a love to his^name, which have been deepen- ing as long as he can recollect ; we should indeed marvel that a fallen crea- ture could thus seem set apart, from his very infancy, to holiness, as though he had been born a child of God and not of wrath, if we did not remember, that, whilst the earth was yet " with- out form and void," waters had suffused it, and that on the face of those waters [had moved the Spirit of God. i These then are the two great senses lin which, as we think, our text should ibe understood ; the one literal, the other allegorical. In ordinary cases we object to the giving a typical mean- ling to an historical statement, unless on the express warrant of other parts of Scripture. But though in this case we have no such warrant, yet, foras- imuch as the work of the Holy Spirit iupon man is described as the extract- ing a new creation from the ruins of the old — the very work attributed to jthis agent in our text — we can hardly ithink that we deal fancifully with Scrip- jture, if, in imitation of early v^riters, !we suppose a designed parallel between ;l.he natural and spiritual operations. iA.nd though v^'e will not say that what Lve have, in conclusion, to advance, ; may be equally defended by just laws I lif interpretation, it is perhaps only i mch an application of the text as may ^ pe pardoned for the sake of its practi- D iial worth. J \ On the v/aters of the chaos brooded |i jhe Spirit, in order that from the undi- gested mass might springa noble world. )n the waters of baptism still broods hat same Spirit, in order that from the nldst of a fallen race may rise the hurch of the living God. But there re other waters, of which Scripture peaks ; and it is most comforting to emeniber that on these too may God's pirit rest. There are the waters of iRiction, waters to which reference is lade in the promise, " When thou assest through the waters, I will, be ith thee ;" and to which the Psalmist alludes when he speaks of the deep waters as having come in, even unto his soul. And Avhen these waters are poured upon the christian, how often may it be said that the earth is " with- out form and void," and that darkness is " upon the face of the deep." All seems a blank : on every side there is gloom. But is not God's Spirit upon the waters'? Surely, if it be true that the believer in Christ comes forth puri- fied by affliction, stronger in the graces of the Gospel, and more disposed to the yielding those fruits which are to the glory of God, it is also true that the Spirit, who is emphatically styled the Comforter, has moved upon the waters, exerting through them a mys- terious influence on the disordered fa- culties ; so that there hath at length emerged, as from the surges of the ear- ly deep, a fairer creation, with more of the impress of Deity and the earnest of heaven. And if sorrows may be liken- ed unto waters, certainly death may, which cometh in as a deluge, and over- whelms the generations of men. This is a flood beneath which the earth becomes literally " without form and void." The body, fashioned out of the dust, is reduced to its elements: all that was comely, and strong, and ex- cellent, departs ; and a darkness, fear- fully oppressive, is on '' the face of the deep." But the Spirit of the living God is moving on the flood. These our bo- dies, like the globe from which they have been taken, and into which they must be resolved, arc to pass from an inferior to a nobler condition ; they are to be broken into a chaos, only that they may be reconstructed in finer symmetry, and with loftier powers. And when 1 find it declared that "he that raised up Christ from the dead, shall also quicken your mortal bodies by his Spirit that dwelleth in you" — the resurrection being thus attributed to the Spirit — I feel indeed that it maj'- again be said, that the Spirit of God moves '' on the face of the waters;" it moves as the guardian and vivifier of every particle submerged in the dark flood of death ; and its agency shall be attested, attested as magnificently as by new heavens and anew earth sprintr- ing from the wreck of the old, when this mortal shall put on immortality, this corruptible incorruption. kl 366 THE PROPORTION OF GRACE TO TRIAL. We cannot detain you longer, though fresh illustrationscrowd upon the mind. Living waters, we read, are to go out from Jerusalem, " till at length the earth shall be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea." The Spirit of God will be on these waters; the flood of evan- gelical truth would avail nothing unless accompanied by this agent ; but foras- much as the Gospel shall be preached " with the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven," the desert will blossom, the waste places rejoice, and the globe be transformed into one glorious sanctu- ary. There is a river, moreover, in the heavenly city, " clear as crystal, pro- ceedinar out of the throne of God and of the Lamb." The waters flow from the throne of two persons of the Trini- ty ; then on these waters must be the Third Person, who proceedeth from the other two. Yea, even in heaven may this Spirit act on that which hath been earthly, fitting us to pass from one stage to another of glory and bless- edness, so that futurity, like antiquity, shall be full of splendid changes, each being a progress towards Deity, though Deity will ever remain unapproach- able. God grant — this is all we can say in conclusion — that none of us may " quench the Spirit ;" Oh, though he can sit majestical on the flood of death, he may be actually quenched by the flood of unbelief. SERMON IX. THE PROPORTION OF GRACE TO TRIAL " Aiid as thy days,, so shall thy strength be." — Deuteronomy, 33 : 25, It is of great importance, that, in considering the present condition of our race, we neither exaggerate, nor extenuate, the consequences of the oria^inal apostacy. We believe it pos- sible to do the one as well as the other ; for though it may not be easy to over- state the degree of our alienation from God, or our inability to return unto him from whom we have revolted, we may speak as though certain passions and affections had been engendered in us since the fall, having had nothing correspondent in man as first formed. And this, we believe, would be a great mistake ; for we do not see how any part of our mental constitution can have been added, or produced, since we turned aside from God : we may have prostituted this or that affection, and perverted this or that power ; but assuredly the affection and the power, under a better aspect and with a holier aim, must have belonged to our nature before as well as since the transgres- sion of Adam. We are not to think that an entirely new set of energies and pas- sions was communicated to man,Avhen he had fallen from innocence ; for this would be to represent God as interfer- ing to implant in us sinful propensities. When a man is converted, and there- fore regains, in a degree, the lost image of his Maker, there are not given hiin powers and affections which he pos- sessed not before ; all that is effected is the removal of an evil bias, or the proposing of a new object ; the facul ties are what they were, except tha' they are no longer warped, and nc longer ^wasted on perishable things And if that renewal of human nature THE PROPORTION OP GRACE TO TRIAL. 367 which is designated as actually a fresh creation, consist rather in its purifica- tion and elevation, than in its endow- ment with new qualities, we may con- clude, that, in its fall, there was the debasement rather than the destruc- tion of its properties, the corruption of what it had rather than the acquisi- tion of what it had not. It is, we think, a very interesting thing to observe men's present dispo- sitions and tendencies, and to consider i what they would have been had man continued in uprightness. The distort- ed feature, and the degraded power, should not merely be mourned over and reproached: they should be used as elements from which we may deter- mine what our race was, ere it rebel- led against God. When, for example, we behold men eagerly bent on the amassing of wealth, giving all their energy and time to the accumulation of riches which they can never need and never enjoy, we consider that we are not looking merely on a melancho- ly spectacle, that of creatures squan- dering their lives on what deserves not their strivings. There is indeed the exhibition of misused powers j but the exhibition is, at the same time, a strik- ing evidence of what man originally was, and for what he was designed. .The passion for accumulation, for ;making provision for the unknown fu- [ture, is among the strongest indications |:hat the soul feels herself immortal, land urges to the laying up for yet dis- tant times. What would the man, who is laboring night and day for corrupti- ble possessions, have been, had he re- bained what he was as originally cre- ;ited ] He would have been an eager liandidate for those treasures which ■ire enduring ; and all that concentra- jion of powers on a perishable good, khich now excites our sorrow, would jiave been the undivided employment pf every energy on the acquisition of ijverlasting blessedness. It is not a [lew desire, a desire which subsisted }iot under any form in the unfallen 'nan, that which now actuates the great nass of our race, who toil and strive i»nly to be rich. It is the very desire fvhich, we may believe, was uppermost fi our first father, when the imasfe of jfod was in its freshness, and evil had ot entered paradise. The desire has been turned towards the base and cor- ruptible; there has been a change, a fatal change in its object; but, never- theless, the desire itself belonged to our nature in its glorious estate, God its author, and immortality its aim. So that, from the spectacle of crowded marts and busy exchanges, where num- bers manifestly devote themselves, bo- dy and soul, to the amassing of money, we can pass in thought to the spectacle of a world inhabited only by unfallen men, creatures who, like Adam as ori- ginally formed, present the lineaments of the Lord God himself. The one spectacle suggests the other: I learn what man was, from observing what he is. And it is not merely that, viewing the matter generally, we can see that the passion for accumulating wealth is an original affection of our nature, im- planted for noble ends. If you examine with a little more attention, you will be struck wnth the testimony which there is in this passion to the exi- gencies and destinies of man. If you were to speak with a great capitalist, one who has already realized laro-e wealth, but who is as industrious in adding to his stores as though he were just beginning life, he would perhaps hardly tell you that he had any very definite purpose in heaping up riches, that there was any great end which he hoped to attain, or any new source- of happiness which he expected to pos- sess. He goes on accumulating, be- cause there is an unsatisfied longing, a craving which has not been appeas- ed, a consciousness, which will not suffer him to be idle, that man's busi- ness upon earth is to make provision for the future. For our part, we have no share in the feeling of wonder, which we often hear expressed, that worldly men, as they grow old, are even more eager than ever in adding to their riches. The surprising thing to us is, when a man who for years has been intent on accumulating capi- tal, can withdraw from his accustomed pursuits, and yet not be industrious in seeking treasure above. We think it only natural, that the covetous man should be more covetous, as he dra^vs nearer to death; for we regard covet- ousness as nothing less than the pros- tituted desire of immortality ; it is the 368 THE PROPORTION OF GRACE TO TPaAL. passion of a being, goaded by an ir- repressible feeling that he shall have wants hereafter, for which it beiioves him to be provident now; and what marvel, if this feeling become more and more intense, as the time of dis- solution approaches, and the soul has mysterious and painful forebodings of being cast, without a shred, and with- out a hope, on eternity'? But we make these remarks on the passion for accumulation as found in unconverted men, because we wish to examine whether there be any thing analogous in those who have been brought to the providing for an after state of being. The worldly man, as we have seen, is not content with a present sufficiency, or even abundance : he is always aiming at having a large stock in hand, so that he may be se- cure, as he thinks, against future con- tingencies. And when you view him as a creature with misdirected energies, we have shown you that his irrepressi- ble tendency to the providing for here- after, is among the most beautiful of testimonies to his being immortal, and placed upon earth to prepare for ano- ther state. But if we now suppose him so transformed by divine grace, that he is enabled to set his affections " on things above," there is a strong likeli- hood that he will carry with him, if we may so express it, the habit of accu- mulation, so that he will be in spiritual things, what he has long been in tem- poral, discontented with the present supply, and desirous of anticipating the future. And, of course, we are not re- quired to limit this remark to the case of an individual who has been eager in amassing earthly wealth. We think it a feature which is characteristic, with- out exception, of all men, that there is a tendency to the providing for the fu- ture. There is hardly the mind to be found, so stripped of every vestige of its origin, that it cares only for to-day, and has no regard for to-morrow. And if there be an universal disposition to the having, if possible, the supply of future Avants alreadj?- in possession, we may well expect, on the principles al- ready laid down, that such disposition Avill show itself in regard of spiritual necessities, and not be confined to such only as are temporal. It is the consideration of the dispo- sition, as it may thus operate in righ- teous individuals, with which we now desire to engage your attention. Our text may have often recurred to j^ou as a beautiful promise, pledging God to administer such supports to his people as shall be proportioned to their seve- ral necessities. " As thy days, so shall thy strength be." And it is unquestion- ably a most encouraging declaration, full of godly comfort, admirably fitted to sustain us in the prospect of various trials, and abundantly made good in the experience of the righteous. But whilst we admit that it is as a promise that our text is most interesting and attractive, we consider it so construct- ed as to convey important lessons, with regard to that desire to make provision on which we have been speaking. You will observe that the promise is sim- ply, that strength shall be proportioned to the day : there is no promise of an overplus, nor of such store in hand as shall make us confident for the future, because we have already full provision for its wants. The promise is literally fulfilled, if, up to the instant of our be- ing placed in certain circumstances, we are without the grace which those circumstances may demand, provided only that the grace be imparted so soon as the circumstances become ac- tually our own. Nay, we must go even further than this. The text clearly im- plies that we are not to expect the grace or assistance beforehand : it would not be true, that the strength was as the day, if we were furnished, before the day of trial came, with whatsoever would be needful for pass- ing well through its troubles. All that we have right to infer from the passage, is, that, God will deal out to us the sup- ply of our wants as fast as those wants actually arise ; but that he will not give us any thing which we may lay by, or hoard up for fresh emergencies. And thus, as we may say, the text is strong- ly condemnatory of all bringing into religion of that passion for accumula- tion which is so distinctive of human nature ; for it requires us to live, from, L moment to moment, upon God, and for-: ^. bids our expecting that the grace foi to-morrow will be communicated to day. These however are points which re quire to be stated more at length, am: THE PKorORTION OF GRACE TO TiUAL. S69 with greater clearness. In order there- fore to combine the several lessons which seem furnished by the expres- sive words of our text, we shall direct j'our attention to two chief topics of discourse — considering, in the first place, the caution, and in the second, the comfort, which the righteous may draw from the saying, " As thy days, so shall thy strength be." Now there is a wise, and there is also an unwise, comparison of himself with others, which may be instituted by a righteous individual. He may so compare himself as to be animated to imitation, or he may so compare him- self as to be disheartened by a sense of inferiority. And in the latter compari- son, whose result proves that it ought not to have been made, there is com- monly no due regard to a difference in circumstances. If, for example, we take into our hands the annals of martyrs, and read the story of the undaunted heroism with which confessors, in days of fierce persecution, have braved the loss of all that is valuable, and the en- durance of all that is tremendous, we can perhaps hardly repress a painful feeling of inferiority ; and we close the book with a tacit but reproachful confession, that we seem void of the faith which could perform the like wonders. And we have no wish to say that there may not be great cause, when we ponder what the saints of other dajrs have suffered and done, for I acknowledging that we come far short j of their zeal for the truth, and their 'love of the Savior. It is more than [possible that Christianity in the present day is feebler in power, and fainter in lustre, than in earlier times, when it was to be professed with danger, and maintained with blood. But what we now contend for, is, that we have no right to consider the piety of our own times inferior to that of former, just because we may doubt whether Ithe christians of this generation have the courage and fortitude of martyrs of old. It is exceedingly probable that there are very few christians, who can declare, after honestly and fearlessly examining themselves, that they feel so nerved to bear all things for Christ, that they could go joyfully to tlie stake, and sing his praises in the midst of the flames. Let men read the history of a Ridley, or a Flooper; and then let them inquire, if we were now placed in like circumstances, could we display the like constancy! and perhaps from the one end of this christian land to ano- ther, you would scarce find any to an- swer in the affirmative. And this, we wish you carefully to observe, would not arise from mere humility, from any actual underrating of their strength and devotedness. The answer would be the answer of perfect truth, the an- swer dictated by a most accurate com- parison of the supposed trial with the possessed power. We are quite pre- pared for any the most cogent proof, that christians of the present daj: are not actually in possession of the cou- rage and determination of martyrs and confessors; and that if, on a sudden, without their receiving fresh communications of grace, they v%-ere brought before rulers, and required to maintain their profession with their lives, the likelihood is that there Avould be grievous apostacy, even where Vv'e have no reason now to doubt the sin- cerity. But we do not consider this as prov- ing any thing against the genuineness or worth of the existing Christianity. We consider it no evidence that reli- gion has deteriorated, that the chris- tians of our own day stand not ready for the stake which their forefathers braved. The stake and the scafTold are not the appointments of the times: it is not God's will that the believers of this generation should be exposed to the same trials as martyrs and confes- sors. And we reckon it a great princi- ple in the dealings of God with his church, a principle clearly laid down in the words of our text, that the grace imparted is rigidly proportioned to the emergence : so that, as it is never less, it is never more, than suffices for the appointed tribulation. There was be- stoAved upon martyrs the strength need- ful for the undergoing martyrdom, be- cause it was martyrdom which God summoned them to encounter. That strength is not bestowed upon us, be- cause it is not martyrdom which God hath called us to face. In both cases the same principle is acted on, "As thy days, so shall thy strength be." And this principle would be utterly forgot- ten and violated, if we, who live iu i7 370 THE PEOrORTION OF GRACE TO TRIAL. times when the fires of persecution no longer blaze, felt ourselves thoroughly furnished for the dying nobly for the truth. But then we can be confident that the principle would be equally pre- served, if there were to pass a great change on the times, and the profession of Christianity once more exposed men to peril of death. We have no fellow- ship with that feeling which we often hear expressed, that so degenerate is modern Christianity, that, if there were a return of persecution, there would be no revival of the fine heroism which former days displayed. We believe in- deed that there is a vast deal of nomi- nal Christianity, of mere outward pro- fession, with which the heart has no concern. This will necessarily be the case under the present dispensation, whenever Christianity is the national religion, adopted by a country as the only true faith. And it is hardly to be questioned that a great part of this nominal Christianity would altogether disappear if the supposed change were brought about. What men iiave not re- ceived into their hearts, they cannot be expected to defend with their lives. But we speak now of vital Christianity, of that Christianity which is allowed to be genuine, but presumed to be weak. It is of this Christianity that the me- lancholy suspicion is entertained, that it would not stand an onset of persecu- tion, but would prove itself a recreant if summoned to the trials of confessors of old. And it is this suspicion which we consider wholly unwarranted, and in the^entertainment of which we have no share whatsoever. We regard the suspicion as involving an utter for- getfulness of the principle announced in our text, and as proceeding on the supposition that God might be expect- ed to allow such an accumulation of grace as would cause us to have in hand full provision for the future. But with the words which we are consider- ing kept steadily in mind, we could look forward to a return of persecution, with a confident expectation of a re- turn of the spirit of the martyrs. Be it so, that the best christians of the day seem unprepared for the surrender of property, the submission to captivity, or the sacrifice of life. They neverthe- less have in them the same faith, the same in nature, if not in degree, as was possessed by those noble ones o old, who " witnessed a good confes sion," and whose names shed undying lustre on the annals of our religion. And, having the same faith, we can be sure that they would be strength- ened for the meeting all such trials as God, in his providence, might be plea- sed to appoint. It is not that zeal is extinguished, that love has departed, that courage has perished. It is not that our valleys and cities are indeed haunted by the memory of such as counted all things " loss for Christ," but could not again send forth defend- ers of the truth. On many a mountain- side would the servants of the living God again congregate, if the fiends of persecution were once more let loose. Scenes, consecrated by the remem- brance of what was done in them of old, would be again hallowed by the constancy of the veteran and the strip- ling, and by the fine exhibition of tor- ture despised, and death defied, that the doctrines of the Gospel might be upheld in their purity. We should again have the merchant, willing to be stripped of his every possession, and turned a beggar on the world, rather than abjure one tittle of the faith. We should again have the tender and the weak, the woman and the child, who now shrink from the least pain, [and are daunted by the least danger, con- fronting the fierce and the powerful, and refusing to deny Christ, though to save themselves from agony. We should again have the dungeons filled with unflinching men, proof equally against threat and persuasion ; and who, counting religion the dearest thing of all, would neither be bribed from it by an empire, nor scared from it by death. And we venture on this prophecy, not from any confidence in the natural re- sources of those who seem unprepared to do and dare nobly for the truth. It is not that we think they have unde- veloped power, which would be brought out by exposure to trial. It is only that we are persuaded that God accurately proportions the strength to the circum- stances, communicating his grace as the difficulties increase. And men may look back, with a sort of despondency, to times when righteousness was un- daunted by all the menaces of wicked- ness. They may draw a reproachful THE PROPORTION OF GRACE TO TRIAL. 371 contrast between the Christianity which was cheerful in a prison and confident on a scaflbld, and that of modern days, which seems little like it in boldness » I and disinterestedness. But we see no- : thing in the contrast but evidence that ; the supplies of grace are proportioned i to the need, and ground of assurance t that Christianity now would be what Christianity was, were God to take ofT his restraints from the enemies of his church. Yes, w^hen we hear it said that days of persecution may again be per- mitted, that again may professing the name of Christ cause exposure to all 1 from which human nature shrinks, we •are far enough from having before us } the gloomy spectacle of universal apos- Itacy. The imagery which the state- jment brings to our mind is that of un- t blenching fortitude and high daring land christian heroism: there is the cru- 'elty of savage and bloodthirsty men, but there is also the constancy of meek and single-hearted believers : there are the emissaries of an inquisition hunt- ing down the righteous, but there are the righteous themselves holding fast jtheir profession : the dead seem to live iagain, the ancient worthies have their jfaithful representatives, the mantle of 'the noble army of martyrs" is resting on a host of every age and every rank — and all because God hath announced his as his principle in his dealing with lis people, " As thy days, so shall thy 'Strength be." Now we have learned, from our in- ercourse with christians when in sick- less, or under affliction, that it is prac- ically of great importance to insist on he truth that no greater measure of !^race should be expected than is suffi- ient for present duties and trials. The lassion for accumulation, to which we iive so often referred, is to be traced a men who are busy for the next world, s well as in those who are busy only or this. As he who is gathering perish- ble wealth is not content with the sup- ly of present wants, but always looks nxiously to future, so the christian, lough possessing what is needed by is actual condition, will be thinking f what would be necessary if that con- ition were worse. And we are certain, lat, both in temporal and spiritual lings, it is the object of God to keep 5 momentarily dependent on himself. We allow that, in temporal things, men seem able to defeat this intention, and to acquire something that might pass for independence. But this is only in appearance : it were the worst infideli- ty which should contend for the reali- ty. The man of ample property may say with the rich fool in the parable, " Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years;" but you must all be conscious that no amount of wealth can secure its possessor against want, if God saw fit to strip him of his riches. It is only in appearance that the man of lai'ge capital is better provided for to-morrow, than the beggar who knows not whither to turn for a morsel of bread : you have simply to admit that " the earth is the Lord's, and the ful- ness thereof," and you admit that the opulent individual and the destitute are alike dependent upon God, that by to-morrow they may have virtually changed places, the opulent being in beggary, and the destitute in abun- dance. But in spiritual things, the distribu- tion of which God keeps more visibly, though not more actually, in his own hands, there is not even the appear- ance of our having the power to be in- dependent. We can have only such measure of grace as God is pleased to bestow ; and it may be withdrawn or continued, increased or diminished, en- tirely at his pleasure who " holdeth our souls in life." But nevertheless there may be a craving for a larger measure of grace than suffices for pre- sent duties, just as there may be for a larger measure of wealth than suffices for present wants. And if there may be this craving, there may be also a dissatisfied and uncomfortable feeling, if the larger measure of grace should not seem bestowed. Whereas, if we may use a very homely expression, it is not God's method to allow us a stock of grace, to be kept in reserve for oc- casions which may arise. The petition in the Lord's prayer seems applicable to spiritual as well as to temporal food, " Give us day by day our daily bread." What we are taught to ask is what we may hope to receive ; and we are not to ask to-day for the bread for to-mor- row : w'e are to be content with to- day's supply, and to wait till to-mor- row before we s|)eak of its wants. Nei- 372 THE PROPORTIOI^ OF GRACE TO TRIAL. ther may we think that it was without i cle." And we have no wish, at any a great spiritual meaning that Christ l time, to represent death as other than delivered the maxim, " Sufficient un- an enemy, nor its assault as other than to the day is the evil thereof," and grounded on it a direction to his dis- ciples, that they should " take no thought for the morrow." We do not suppose that he forbade prudence and forethought, but only undue anxiety, with respect to the future and its ne- cessities. There are passages enough in Scripture from which to show, that it is not the part of a christian to make no provision for after days, as tliough his wants were to be supplied without his using means. But we believe that there are respects in which we ought to act literally on the saying, '' Suffi- cient unto the day is the evil thereof." We believe that sufficient unto the day are its trials and burdens ; and that, if a man find himself enabled to bear these, he has no right to complain at not feeling able to bear heavier. Suffi- cient unto the day are its trials, be- cause the strength bestowed is accu- rately proportioned to those trials; and therefore we ought not to harass our- selves by imagining our trials increas- ed, and then mournfully inferring that we should sink beneath their weight. And yet this is a very common form of the disquietude of christians. A pa- rochial minister constantly meets with this case in his pastoral visitations. Men are fond of supposing themselves placed in such or such circumstances; and because they do not feel as though their faith and fortitude were equal to the circumstances, they draw unfavor- able conclusions as to their spiritual Slate. It is thus, for example, that they fetch material of uneasiness from the registered actions and endurances of saints : they do not feel as if they could brave martyrdom ; and therefore are they confounded by the history of mar- tyrs, though it ought to encourage them, as proving that God will not suffer men to be tempted "above that they are able." And the same occurs very frequent- ly in reference to death. There are many christians who are harassed by a great dread of death, a dread of the mere act of dying ; and who may be said to go heavily half their days, through fear of the taking down of their " earthly house of this taberna- necessarily terrible to our nature. It is vain to try to make death desirable in itself: it is a remnant of the origi- nal curse ; a remnant for whose final removal there has been made abun- dant provision, but which, whilst yet unrepealed, must press grievously even on the best of mankind. In what way, then, would we strive to encourage those christians who are distressed with apprehensions of death 1 Simply by telling them that they do wrong in thinking of the future, and that it is both their duty and interest to confine themselves to the present. Are they enabled to bear the trials of to-day, the trials whether of sickness or sor- row! Enough: "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof;" still "wait upon the Lord;" and if to-morrow bring heavier trials, to-morrow will bring greater strength. But we feel unprepared for death, we shrink from the thought of death. Be it so ; to die is not your present business, to live is your present business. And it is strict- ly to your present business that God proportions your present grace. You are wishing to have already in your possession the strength for dying ; but this is virtually to wish that God would allow you to accumulate, and thus to be provided beforehand with all that may be needed for trials to come. And God loves you too well to give you even this image or shadow of indepen- dence. He knows it essential to your spiritual well-being that you should hang upon him from moment to mo- ment ; he knows also that this you could hardly do, if grace were so sup- plied that you had more in hand than sufficed for to-day. Be thankful that you have now strength enough for what you are called to do and en- dure; be confident that you shall have, strength enough for all that you mayf hereafter be called to do and endure The one is a pledge of the other that experience verifies our text now.; should persuade you that experience; will verify it in time yet to come. | We wish that we could prevail upoH you all thus to submit to the present without being troubled as to the future We are sure that a great part of tin THE PROPORTION OF GRACE TO TRIAL, 373 anxiety of christians is anxiety as to trials and duties which are not allotted them, but which possibly may be. They imagine, as we before said, circum- stances, and are disquieted because those circumstances seem to over- match their strength. The mother will gaze on her favorite child ; and, in the midst of her gladness, a shade of mel- ancholy will pass across her brow, at the thought that this child may be ' taken from her by death. Her feeling .is, I could not bear to lose him; it would go far to break my heart ; were God to appoint me that trial, it would be too much for my patience and re- signation. But what has the mother to do with thus imagining her child as snatchedaway from her embrace, whilst he is before her in all the buoyancy of health 1 It may be that she does not inovv feel as though she could submit jwit^h meekness to his loss. But his loss jis not what she is now called to en- 'dure; and she does wrong in examin- ing her faith by its ability to bear what is only possible, and not actual. In like manner, a man feels, and is dis- tressed by the feeling, that he could not now meet death with composure and assurance. What of that % has he reason to believe himself on his death- bed 1 if not, he has no right to expect jthe death-bed strength, and therefore Inone to be disturbed at its wants. And, loh, it is very beautiful to observe how ;those who have suffered their present ipeace to be ruffled by anticipated trials, jhave found their fears groundless, and Ihave gone bravely through the trouble from the thought of which they shrank. iThe blow has come upon the mother, land that sweet child has sickened and idied. But the trial has not exceeded ithe mother's strength : she has found aierself so sustained that she has even been able to ''rejoice in tribulation;" and she has laid in the grave, almost Without a tear, and certainly without a purmur, the little one whom she had liilowed delightfully on her breast. Vnd the hour of departure has been at land to that christian who has been larassed by a fear of dissolution; but '.'here have been the anticipated ter- ors 1 Has he been the timid, stricken, 'huddering thing which he had pic- nred himself when looking forward to he last scene 1 On the contrary he has met the dreaded enemy with per- fect tranquillity ; with the dying patri- arch he has " gathered up his feet in- to the bed," and has meekly exclaimed, " I have waited for thy salvation, O •Lord." And what are we to say to these registered instances, instances whose frequency might be attested by every minister of the Gospell What but that there is a continual actino- on the principle of our text, that it is not God's method to provide us before- hand for a trial, but that it is his me- thod to do enough for his people when the trial has comel Yes, if we can indeed prove that the burden which, at a distance, threatened to crush us, has not been too heavy ; that the waters which seemed likely to overwhelm us have not been too deep — if there be abundant demonstration that what men have felt unequal to when it was not their portion, they have endured ex- cellently when it has fallen to their lot ; sorrows, whose name scared them, not having exhausted their patience, and pains, at whose mention they quivered, having been borne with a smile, and even death itself, whose image had long appalled them, having laid aside its terrors when actually at hand — will it not be confessed that God wondrous- ly makes good the declaration, "As thy days, so shall thy strength be 1" And this appeal to experience might be made by most christians, even if they had no history but their own from which to gather proof. If it were not that we receive blessings and deliver- ances, and then forget them, or fail to treasure them up as choice proofs of divine favor, it could not be that many amongst us, after years and years of professed fellowship with God, would be as much dismayed by the prospect of new trials, or as much disheartened by the pressure of new burdens, as though they had known nothing of the supports and consolations which the Almighty can afford. If there were any thing like a diligent remembrance of our mercies, a counting up of the in- stances in which God has been better to us than our fears, in which he has interposed when we were perplexed, sustained us when we were falling, comforted us when we were sorrow- ful, it would be hard to say how there could be place for anxiety, whatever 374 THE PKOPORTION OF GRACE TO TRIAL. 1 the clouds which might be gathering round our path. Let mercies be re- membered as well as , enjoyed, and they mast be as lights in our dark days, and as shields in our perilous. If I find a believer in Christ cast down, because exposed to some vehement temptation, or placed in circumstances which de- mand more than common spiritual firm- ness, I would tell this man that he has no right to look thus gloomily on the future; he is bound to look also on the past ; can he remember no former temptations from which he came out a conqueror, no seasons of danger when God showed himself "a very present helpl" and what then has he to do but to "gird up the loins of his mindV despair may be for those, if such can be found, for whom nothing has been done : but a man whose his- tory is virtually a history of deliver- ances, should regard that history as equally a prophecy of deliverances, a prophecy from God, God who alone can predict and is sure to fulfil, that the strength shall be as the day. And wherefore, moreover, is it, son or daughter of sorrow, that a discipline of suffering has not strengthened thee in faith'? We might think that thou hadst never been in the furnace of af- fliction, to see how thou dost shrink from entering it again. And yet there are those of you who, like the three Jewish youths, have come forth un- harmed, seeing that one " like unto the Son of God" has been with them in the midst of the flames. Take again the case of a mother: if she have lost a child, and yet been enabled to exclaim when that child was carried forth to burial, " The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord," what right has she to be dismayed if another child seem sickening, as though about to follow its brother or its sister ^ Why should the mother recoil from the new trial, as if she felt that it would certainly be more than she could bearl Let her go to the grave of her dead child, that she may learn patience in tending the couch of the living. Did not God comfort her in her former affliction'? Did he not speak soothingly to her when ma- ternal anguish was strong '? What then has she^to do with despondency '? The form of her buried child might well rise before her, and look at her with ai look never worn in life, a look of up- braiding and reproach, if she fail to remember, as the hectic spot appears^ on another young cheek, how the Lord hath said, "As thy days, so shall thy strength be." The widow again, from whom God hath removed the chief earthly prop and guardian, but who was mercifully strengthened, when her husband's eyes closed in death, to look calmly on her boys and girls, and to bid them not weep, for that a Migh- ty One had declared himself " the hus- band of the widow and the father of the fatherless," what cause has she to be afterwards dismayed, when diffi- culties thicken, and the providing for her family seems beyond her power and even her hope ■? Let her travel back in thoughts to the first moments of her widowhood, let her remember the gracious things that were whis- pered to her spirit, when human com- forters could avail nothing against the might of her sorrow ; and will not her own experience rise as a witness a- gainst her, if she gather not confidence from what is treasured in memory, if she exclaim not to the God who bound up the wounded heart, thou wilt again make good thine own word, " As thy days, so shall thy strength be '?" It is in this way that we would have you live over again times and scenes of extraordinary mercy, that you may be nerved for extraordinary trial. We often hear it recommended that chris- tians should study the histories of emi- nent saints, in order that, through ob- serving the deliverances wrought for others, they may be encouraged to ex- pect deliverances for themselves. ^And the recommendation is good. There is no more profitable reading than that of the lives of men idistinguished by their piety. It is likely to suggest to us our own inferiority, to animate us to greater diligence in running the christian race, and, by proving to us how God's promises have been fulfil- led, to lead us to a firmer reliance on his word. And accordingly we have great pleasure, if, in visiting the pious cottager, we find that in addition toi the Bible, which is emphatically the poor man's library, he has on his shelf some pieces of christian biography, the histories of certain of those devot- THE PROPORTION OF GRACE TO TRIAL. 375 ed servants of God who were "burn- ing and shining " lights in their gene- ration, and who bequeathed their me- mory as a rich legacy to posterity. But there is a book which we are yet more anxious that the pious cottager should study, a book which he may possess and peruse, though he have not a single printed volume in his dwelling, nor scholarship enough to read it, even if he had. And this is ;the book of his own experience. This iis the book on whose pages are in- scribed what the Almighty God hath done for himself. There is not the converted man who has not such a book. The title-page may be said to have been written on the day of con- version ; and there is scarce a day af- terward which does not add a leaf. And a page out of this book is prac- tically worth whole printed volumes. Jt may not be stamped with so surpris- ing a history as those volumes could furnish : but then it is the history of ihe reader himself, and therefore has 1 reality and a convincingness which ■scarce any other can have. The stu- dent of the volume of memory knows ihoroughly well that there is nothing exaggerated, nothing fictitious, in any .if its statements: so that there is such - jm air of truth thrown over the biogra- , )hy, as can hardly adorn the narrative « j)f a stranger, which is almost sure to [■•eem romantic in proportion as it is [vonderful. And besides this, you can carcely put yourself into the position 'f the stranger : you imagine a thou- and circumstances of difference which jorbid your identifying your case with is, and inferring what God will do for ou from what he has done for him. lence there is more of encouragement 1 the least blessing bestowed on our- ielves, than in the greatest on a stran- er. On every accouqt, therefore, we lay safely say that a whole library of iographical works, and those, too, re- iting exclusively to righteous individu- Is, could not so minister to the assur- iice of a believer as the documents hich his own memory can furnish, hese then should often engage his stu- V, whether he be the rich or the poor. '6 would have you give unto your ercies an imperishable character. We ould have you engrave them, not up- 1 the marble, and not upon the brass. but upon the tablets of your own minds ; and we would have you watch the sculpture, that not a solitary letter be obliterated. If Samuel, when the Israelites had won a victory over the Philistines, set up a commemorative stone, and called it Ebenezer, saying, " Hitherto hath the Lord helped us," where are your monumental pillars, carved with the story of what God hath done for your safety and com- fort ] Oh, by every tear which God hath wiped from your eyes, by every anxiety which he has soothed, by every fear which he has dispelled, by every want which he has supplied, by every mercy which he has bestowed, strength- en yourselves for all that awaits you through the remainder of your pilgrim- age : look onwards, if it must be so, to new trials, to increased perplexities, yea, even to death itself: but look on what is past as well as on what is to come ; and you will be enabled to say of Him in whose hand are your times, his future dealings will be, what his former have been, fulfilments of the promise, "As thy days, so shall thy strength be." Now up to this point we have been professedly considering only the cau- tion which christians should derive from our text : but we have been in- sensibly drawn into speaking of the comfort, to which we had proposed to devote the concluding part of our discourse. It would not be very easy to keep the two quite distinct : but you will observe that we have given great prominence to the caution, and that it is one which, if you value your spiritu- al peace, you will do well to appropri- ate to yourselves. The caution is, that christians should never try themselves by supposed circumstances, but alwaj^s by their actual : if they have the grace requisite for present trials and duties, they have all which God has covenant- ed to bestow, and must neither mur- mur, nor wonder, if he do not bestow more. God is faithful, if he give suffi- cient' for to-day; man is sinful, if unea- sy because unprovided for to morrow. But when we have taken to ourselves the caution, how abundant is the com- fort which the text should supply; at the risk of repetition, let us dwell for a few moments on what a christian, in a world of wo, cannot weary of hearing. We must necessarily admit that our 376 THE PROPORTION OF GRACE TO TRIAL. present condition is one of exposure to difficulty and disaster. It is not a mere poetic expression, it is the sober as- sertion of melancholy fact, when Job exclaims, " Although affliction cometh not forth of the dust, neither doth trou- ble spring out of the ground, yet man is born unto trouble, as the sparks fly upwards." As a direct consequence on our being fallen creatures, much of bitterness is mixed with our portion ; whilst moreover it seems necessary for the ends of moral discipline, that we should have to encounter disap- pointments and sorrows. But then it is a just expectation, that Christianity, the system devised by God for the re- pair of the injuries wrought by trans- gression, will contain much to mitigate the griefs of human life. And it is hardly needful for us to say how tho- roughly this expectation is fulfilled. Christianity does not indeed offer ex- emption from trouble, even to those most sincere and earnest in its profes- sion. The best christian must expect his share of such troubles as are the lot of humanity — nay, he may even have a greater than the ordinary por- tion, inasmuch as there are ends, in his case, to be observed by affliction, which exist not in that of one at enmity with God. But it is beautiful to observe how little there would be that could be regarded as unhappiness amongst chris- tians, if they made full use of the sup- ports and consolations provided by the Gospel. If a man had only thorough faith in the declaration of our text : if he would apply that declaration to his own case, in both its caution and its comfort, he could neither be overborne by existing trouble, nor be dismayed by prospective. To those who " wait up- on the Lord" there is always given strength adequate to the trials of to- day, and there ought to be no anxiety as to the trials of to-morrow. They have not already in hand the grace that may be needed for future duties and dangers ; but they know it to be in bet- ter keeping than their own, and cer- tain to be furnished precisely when re- quired. O the peace which a true chris- tian might possess, if he would take God at his word, and trust him to make good his promises. It is hard to say what could then ruffle him, or what, at least, could permanently disturb. Day by day his duties might be more ardii ous, his temptations stronger, his tri- als more severe. But he would ascer- tain that the imparted strength grew at the same rate, so that he was always] equal to the duties, victorious over thei temptations, and sustained imder the' trials. As it is, you will find, as we have already more than once observed, that the greatest part of the uneasiness and unhappiness which christians ex- perience springs from the future rather than the present. There will, of course, be absorbing moments, in passing through which the soul will be so en- grossed by the immediate events as to have no thought for those which may' follow. But the ordinary disposition is towards anticipating whilst enduring, so that the actual pressure is increased by the fears and forebodings of thingsi in reserve And it is quite natural that: such should be the case. That she is! always anticipating, always stretching! into the future, is the soul's great wit-; ness to herself of her being immortal,; It is nature's voice, strenuously giving testimony to another state of being, But when the principle of faith has beenl divinely implanted, it ought, in certain' cases and degrees, to keep under this proneness to anticipate. It cannot re^ press the soarings of the spirit, the mysterious wanderings, the gazings at far-off possibilities : and it would not be for our happiness, it would only b( for our degradation, that the soul's wings should be confined and hervisior limited, so that she could neither tra vel nor look beyond the scenes of to day. But faith ought so to people al the future with the presence, the guar dianship, the love, and the faithfulnes; of God, that the soul, in her journeying; and her searchings, should find nc cause foranxiety and no ground for fear This is the privilege, and this shouk be the aim of the christian, not to shu out the future, as though he dared no look on what it may contain ; but t( take the future, as well as the preserl as his own ; to feel that the same Gci inhabits both, and that, wheresoeve God is, there must be safety for hi people. But alas, through the weak- ness of their faith, christians live fa below their privilege ; and hence, whe; they look into the future, it seems ful of boding forms and threatening sha H THE PROPORTION OF GRACE TO TRIAL. 377 dows ; and the survey only makes them less resolute under present troubles, and less alive to present mercies. If this be a just description of any amongst yourselves, we beseech them to give great attention to our text, and to strive to base a rule for their practice on the principle which it announces as per- vading God's dealings. We say to you with respect to your duties, " as thy days, so shall thy strength be." The christian, when in health, fears that he should not bear sickness as he ought ; in sickness he fears, that, if restored to lealth, he should not keep his vows xnd resolutions: when not exposed to nuch temptation, he fears that he jihould fall if he were ; when apparent- ly tasked to the utmost, he fears that [ixemption would only generate sloth. jJut let him be of good cheer: our text s a voice from the unknown futurity, ind should inspire him with confidence, lickness may be at hand, but so also is tie strength for sickness ; and thou halt be enabled to take thy sickness latiently. You may be just recovering i'om sickness ; and life — for it is often larder to face life than death ; he who ['It nerved to die, may be afraid to live -life may be coming back upon you jith its long array of difficulties, and His, and dangers; but be of good jieer, the Author of life is the Author [grace; he who renews the one will |ipart the other, that your days may ] spent in his service. And sorrows ;iy be multiplied ; yes, I cannot look I this congregation, composed of ; ung and old, of parents and children, < husbands and wives, of brothers and f ters, without feeling that much bit- tness is in store. I can see far enough i the future, to discern many fune- 1 processions winding from your (ors: I miss well-known faces from t ! weekly assembly, and the mourn- i habits of other parts of the family e|>lain but too sadly the absence. But b|of good cheer: the widow shall not bidesolate, the fatherless shall not be djerted ; when the grave opens, there sHl be the opening of fresh springs of e«:ifort; when the clouds gather, there sill be the falling of fresh dews of g>ce ; for heaven and earth may pass aVy? but no jot, and no tittle, of the pinise can fail. "As thy days, so sli 1 thy strength be." And if you ask proof that we are not too bold in our prophecy, we might ap- peal, as we have already appealed, to the registered experience whether of the living or the dead. This experience will go yet further, and bear us out in predicting peace in death as well as support through life. I have to pass through the trial from which nature re- coils : the earthly house must be taken down, and the soul struggle away from the body, and appear at the tribunal of my Judge. How shall I feel at such a moment as this 1 Indeed I dare not con- jecture. The living know not, cannot know, what it is to die : we must un- dergo, before we can imagine, the act of dissolution : life is an enigma in its close, as in its commencement ; we cannot remember what it was to enter, we cannot anticipate what it will be to quit this lower world. Yet if there be strength and collectedness in that fear- ful extremity to meditate of God, " my meditation of him shall be sweet." I shall remember that God hath prom- ised to " swallow up death in victory;" and that what he hath promised he will surely perform. May I not, therefore, be glad in the Lord I The things that are temporal are fading from the view ; but the things that are eternal already crowd upon the vision. The minister- ing spirits wait to conduct me ; the heavenly minstrelsy sends me notes of gracious invitation ; one more thought of God as my Father and Friend, one more prayer to "the Resurrection and the Life," and I am in the presence of Him who has never failed in accom- plishing his word to his people. Bear witness, yes, we must appeal to the in- habitants of heavenly places, to glori- fied spirits who have fought the last fight, and now " rest from their labors." We will ask them how they prevailed in the combat with death ; how, weak and worn as they were, they held fast their confidence in the hour of disso- lution, and achieved a victory, and soared to happiness! Listen for their answer : the ear of faith may catch it, though it be not audible by the organ of sense. We were weak in ourselves ; we entered the dark valley, to all ap- pearance unprepared for wrestling with llie terrors with which it seemed thronged. But wonderfully did God fulfil his promises. He was with us ; 48 378 PLEADING BEFORE THE MOUNTAINS. and he ministered whatever was neces- sary to the sustaining our faith and se- curing our safety. And now, be ye ani- mated by our experience. If ye would win our crown, and share our gladness, persevere in simple reliance upon Him who is alone " able to keep you from falling ;" and ye also shall find that there is no season too full of dreariness and difficulty for the accomplishment, of the words, "As thy days, so shallil thy strength be." SERMON X. PLEADING BEFORE THE MOUNTAINS. '' Hear ye, mountains, the Lord's controversy, and ye strong foundations of the earth ; for the Lori hath a controversy with his people, and he will plead with Israel. O my people, what have I don unto thee? and wherein have I weai-ied thee? testify against me." — Micah, 6 : 2, 3. Amongst all the pathetic expostula- tions and remonstrances which occur in the writings of the prophets, none ever seems to us so touching as this, which is found in the first chapter of the book of Isaiah — " The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib; but Israel doth not knoAV, my people doth not consider." You will at once understand, that, in our estima- tion, the pathos is derived from the re- ference made to irrational creatures, to the ox, and the ass, which have not been endowed, as man hath been, with the high faculty of reason. It is an ex- traordinary proof of human perverse- ness and ingratitude, that there should not be as much of attachment, and of acknowledgment of ownership, mani- fested by men towards God, as by the beasts of the field towards those who show them kindness, or supply them with food. And we feel that no accu- mulation of severe epithets, no labored upbraidings, no variety of reproaches, could have set in so affecting a light the treatment which the Creator "re- ceives from his creatures, as the sim- ple contrast thus drawn between man and the brute. But whenever Scripture — and the cases are not rare — strives to mov us by allusions to the inferior creatior there is a force in the passages whic should secure them our special after tion. When Jeremiah uses languag very similar to that which we hav just quoted from Isaiah- — " Yea, th stork in the heaven knoweth her aj pointed times ; and the turtle, and th crane, and the swallow, observe ti. time of their coming; but my peep know not the judgment of the Lord — he delivers a sterner rebuke than he had dealt out a series of veheme invectives. To what end hath ni: been gifted with superior facultie made capable of observing the dcj ings of his Maker, and receiving tl communications of his will, if the biri of the air, guided only by instinct, a to excel him in noting "the signs the times," and in moving and actii as those signs may prescribe'? Ai could any severer censure be delive ed, when he gives no heed to intim tions and warnings from God, than passed on him by the swallow and tl crane, who, observing the changes season, know when to migrate fro one climate to another] Is there not again a very peculi PLEADING BEFORE THE MOUNTAINS. 379 force in this well-known address of Solomon to the indolent man % " Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; consider her ways, and be wise ; which having no guide, overseer, or ruler, provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest." The sagacious king might have given us a long dis- sertation on the evil of slothfulness and the duty of industry: but he could not have spoken more impressively than by simply referring us to an in- significant, but ever active, insect, and leaving that insect to put us to shame, if disposed to Avaste hours in idleness. And who has not felt, whilst reading our Lord's discourses to his disciples, that never did that divine being speak more effectively, or touchingly, than when he made, as it were, the fowls of the air, and the flowers of the field, ut- ter admonitions, and reprove want of faith 1 It ought to assure us, nobler and more important as we manifestly are, of God's good will towards us, and his watchful care over us, to ob- serve, with how unwearied a bounty he ministers to the winged things that range the broad firmament, and in how iTJorious an attire he arrays those pro- liuctions which are to wither in an [lour. And could our Savior have com- bosed a homily which should have hiore keenly rebuked all mistrust of [jrod, or more persuasively have re- commended our casting on him our .;ares, than this his beautiful appeal to :he birds and the flowers'? "Consider ;he ravens : for they neither sow, nor jeap, nor gather into barns ; and God I'eedeth them. Consider the lilies, how Ihey grow; they toil not, they spin lOt; yet I say unto you that Solomon, [a all his glory, was not arrayed like ■ne of these." In these latter words Christ goes yet .3wer in the scale of creation than ei- |her of the prophets whom we quoted s reproving or teaching man through he inferior creatures. It is yet more umiliating to be instructed by the lily iian by the bird or the insect : and lan may well indeed blush, if ignorant r unmindful of truths which may be iarnt from the grass beneath his feet, •ut there are instances in Scripture of n appeal to what is below even this, ) the inanimate creation, as though lan might be rebuked and taught by the sun and stars, by the rocks and the waters. When Joshua, knowing the time of his death to be near, had ga- thered the Israelites, and caused them solemnly to renew their covenant with God, he " took a great stone, and set it up there under an oak that was by the sanctuary of the Lord." And then he proceeded to address the congrega- tion in these remarkable words : " Be- hold, this stone shall bea witness unto us; for it hath heard all the words of the Lord which he spake unto us : it shall be therefore a witness unto you, lest ye deny your God." So boldly and unreservedly had the people avouched their determination of serving the Lord and obeying his voice, that the very stones might be supposed to have heard the vow, and to be ready, in the event of that vow being broken, to give evi- dence against the treacherous multi- tude. Could the dying leader have ex- pressed more strongly the strictness of the obligation under which the people had brought themselves, and the per- fidy of which they would be guilty in turning aside to idolatry, than by thus gifting inanimate matter with the pow- ers of hearing and speech, and repre- senting it as becoming vocal, that it might denounce the iniquity of infring- ing the covenant just solemnly made 1 The stone is thus converted into an overwhelming orator ; in its stillness and muteness, it addresses us more energetically and persuasively than the most impassioned of speakers. Or, to take another instance, when the Psalmist calls upon every thing, animate and inanimate, to join in one chorus of thanksgiving to the Almighty, who does not feel that the summoning the senseless and irrational is the most powerful mode of exhorting those bless- ed with life and intelligence, and of re- buking them, if they offer not praise'? " Praise ye him, sun and moon ; praise him, all ye stars of light. Praise the Lord from the earth, ye dragons and all deeps, fire and hail, snow and va- pors, stormy wind fulfilling his word." Could any address be more stirring 1 Could any labored exposition of the duty of thanksgiving be as effective as this call to the heavenly bodies, yea, even to the fire, and the hail, and the storm, to bring their tribute of praise 1 for who amongst God's rational" crea- 380 PLEADING BEFORE THE BIOUNTAINS. tures will dare to be silent, if every I debate with them, to bring forward l?is star, as it walks its course, and every grievances, and to allow them to bring breeze, as it sweeps the earth, and ev- forward theirs, so that the cause may ery cloud, as it darkens ithe firmament, be fairly tried, and a verdict given as may be regarded as attesting the good- ness and publishing the glories of the universal Lord 1 We thus wish you to perceive, that, in appealing to the inanimate creation, the inspired writers take a most effec- tive mode of inculcating great truths, and conveying stern reproofs. And never should we more feel that the les- sons, which they are about to deliver, are of extraordinary moment, than when they introduce them, as Isaiah does his prophecies, with a "Hear, heaven, and give ear, O earth ;" never should we be more conscious that they are just in accusing men of wilful igno- rance and determined unbelief, than when they turn to the inferior tribes, and cite them as witnesses against ra- tional beings. Now you will readily perceive that our text has naturally suggested these remarks on the frequent references in the Bible, whether to animate or inani- mate things, when man is to be exhort- ed, and especially when he is to be rebuked. In the preceding verse, the prophet Micah had received his com- mission in these remarkable terms — "Arise, contend thou before the moun- tains, and let the hills hear thy voice." Nothing can be more adapted to awa- ken attention, and prepare us for sur- prising disclosures. What lofty, what confounding argument is this, which must be maintained in the audience of the mountains and hills 1 Or, could any thing more persuade us of the obdura- cy of those with whom the prophet had to reason, than this appeal to inanimate matter, as though the very rocks might be as much expected to hearken, as the idolatrous generation to whom he was sentl In the first verse of our text, the prophet literally obeys the command thus received : for he exclaims, " Hear ye, mountains, the Lord's contro- versy, and ye strong foundations of the earth; for the Lord hath a controversy with his people, and he will plead with Israel." " The Lord hath a controversy with his people ;"* he is about to enter into * TlJis portion of the subject has been so largely to who has done the wrong. In what court, if we may use the expression, shall such a cause be tried 1 VVhen one of the contending parties is none other than the everlasting God, it should be at some stupendous tribunal that the pleading takes place. Let then the mightiest eminences of the earth be the walls within which the controversy proceeds. " Arise, contend thou before the mountains." It is as though the prophet had been bidden to select some valley, surrounded on all sides by hills which lost themselves in the clouds; that there, as in a magnificent hall, wor- thy in some degree of the greatness and strangeness of the cause, the living God and his rebellious people might stand side by side, and implead one the other. And the mountains are to do more than form the walls of the ju- dicial chamber. They are to be the au- dience, they are to be witnesses in this unparalleled trial. So certain was God, when thus bringing himself into public 1 controversy with Israel, that he should i be justified in his dealings, and clear in his judgments; so certain, more- over, was he, that no evidence Avould convince those who were set against his service ; that he summoned the hills and strong foundations of the earth to be present, that he might not want voices to pronounce his acquittal, however human tongues might keep a guilty silence. There is something sin- gularly striking and sublime in all this. My brethren, give your close attention to the scene. We are admitted, as it were, into the court ; did ever trial go forward in so august a chamber"? The walls are the everlasting hills, and the roof is the broad firmament with all its fretwork of stars. And the parties who are to come into court! The Creator himself, amazing condescension! is one of these parties; the other is the whole Jewish nation, or — for we may fairly transfer the occurrence to our own day — the whole christian world. Yes, matters are to be brought to an handled by Saurin in his sei-mon on "God's contro- versy with Israel," that one can scarcely hope to say any thing which has not been already acd better said by that most powerful of preachers. TLEADING BEFOKE THE MOUNTAII^S. 881 issue between God and his creatures : he knows that they complain of his government, and refuse compliance with his laws ; and therefore has he descended from his throne, and laid aside for the time his rights and pre- rogatives, and placed himself at the bar with those who have resisted his t authority, that the real state of the ; case may be thoroughly examined, and sentence be given according to the evi- j dence produced. I Let then the trial commence : God is to speak first ; and so strange is it i that he should thus enter into contro- 1 versy with man, that the very hills and ! strong foundations of the earth assume I a listening posture. And now what I words do you expect to hearl What j can you look for from the Divine Speak- ! er, if not for a burst of vehement re- Iproach, a fearful enumeration of foul .ingratitude, and base rebellion, and multiplied criinel When you think that God himself is confronted with a people for whom he has done unspeak- able things, and from whom he has received in return only enmity and scorn, you must expect him to open ihis cause with a statement of sins, and la catalogue of offences, at the hearing ;of which the very mountains would Iquake. But it is not so. And among all Ithe transitions which are to be found jon the pages of Scripture, and which (furnish the most touching exhibitions |of divine tenderness and long-suffering, ■perhaps none is more affecting than that here presented. We have been brought •into a most stupendous scene: moun- jtain has been piled upon mountain, that a fit chamber might be reared for the most singular trial which earth lever witnessed. The parties have come Tmto court; and whilst one is a com- pany of human beings like ourselves, jwe have been amazed at finding in the bther the ever-living Creator, Avho has 'onsented to give his people the op- Tortimity of pleading with him face to ace, and of justifying, if they can, their -ontinued rebellion. And now the mind s naturally wrought up to a high pitch )f excitement; we almost tremble as ve hearken for the first words which he Almighty is to utter; they must, ve feel sure, be words of accusation, ;nd wrath, and vengeance, words deep s the thunder and fiery as the light- ning; when, lo, as though the speaker were overcome with grief, as though the sight of those who had injured him moved him to sorrow, not to wrath, he breaks into the pathetic exclamation, an exclamation every letter of which seems a tear, '^ my people, Avhat have I done unto thee, and wherein have I wearied theel testify against me." We desire, brethren, that you should avail yourselves, on the present occa- sion, of the wonderful permission thus accorded by God. Ordinarily we are fearful of allowing you to bring com- plaints against your Maker. But we know that you make them in your hearts; and, now, at last, you have a full opportunity of giving them vent; you are standing in controversy with God, and God himself gives you leave to testify against him. The question therefore now is, what charges any of you have to bring against God, against his dealings with you, against his go- vernment, against his laws. If you have any excuses to ofler for still liv- ing in sin, for impenitence, for cove- tousness, for sensuality, you are free to produce them; God himself invites the statement, and you need not fear to speak. But, forasmuch as you are confronted with God, you must expect that whatsoever you advance will be rigidly examined; and that, when you have brought your accusation against God, God will bring his against you. These preliminaries of the great trial having been defined and adjusted, we may suppose the controversy to pro- ceed: men shall first testify against God, and God then shall testify against men. Now you will understand that we are here supposing men to come forward, and to attempt to justifjr what is wrong in their conduct, by laying the blame, in some way, upon God. It is this which God, in our text, invites the Is- raelites to do; and therefore it is this which, if the trial be regarded as tak- ing place in our own day, we must sup- pose done by the existing generation. And if men would franklyspeak out, as they are here bidden to do, they would have to acknowledge a secret persuasion that they have been dealt with unjustly, and that there is much to palliate, if not wholly to excuse, their continued violation of the known 382 PLEADING BEFORE THE MOTTNTAINS. laws of God. They argue that they have inherited, through no fault of their own, a proneness to sin ; that they have been born with strong passions and ap- petites, and placed in the midst of the very objects which their desires soli- cit ; and they are disposed to ask, whe- ther it can be quite fair to expect them to be virtuous in spite of all these dis- advantages, quite just to condemn them for doing that which, after all, they had scarce the power of avoiding. Well, let them urge their complaint : God is willing to hearj but let them, on their part, give heed to what he will plead in reply. The accusation is this — human nature became corrupt through the transgression of Adam, a transgression in which we had certain- ly no personal share. As a conse- quence on this, we come into the world with corrupt propensities, propensities moreover which there is every thing around us to develope and strengthen 5 and nevertheless we are to be con- demned for obeying inclinations which we did not implant, and gratifying pas- sions which are actually a part of our constitution. If we had not inherited a tainted nature, or if we had been, at least, so circumstanced that the incen- tives to virtue might have been strong- er than the temptations to vice, there Avould have been justice in the expect- ing us to live soberly and righteously, and in the punishing us if we turned aside from a path of self-denial. But assuredly, when the case is precisely tlie reverse, when there has been com- municated to us the very strongest ten- dency to sin, and we have been placed amongst objects which call out that tendency, whilst the motives to with- standing it act at a great comparative disadvantage, it is somewhat hard that we should be required to resist what is natural, and condemned for obeying it — ay, and we think that here, in the presence of the mountains and strong foundations of the earth, we may ven- ture to plead the hardship, seeing that God himself hath said, " Testify against me." But now the accusation must be sift- ed : it is a controversy which is being carried on; and whatever is urged, ei- ther on the one side or on the other, has to be subjected to a rigid inquiry. It is, of course, to be acknowledged, that, as a consequence on the apostacy of our forefather, we receive a deprav- ed nature, prone to sin and averse from holiness. It has undoubtedly become natural to us to disobey God, and un- natural, or contrary to nature, to obey him. And we are placed in a world which presents, in rich profusion, the \ counterpart objects to our strong- !' est desires, and which, soliciting us through the avenues of our senses, has great advantages over another state of being, which must make its appeal ex- clusively to our faith. All this must be readily admitted : there is no exagge- ration, and no misrepresentation. But if this may be said on the side of man, is there nothing to be said on the side of God"? Has God made it absolutely unlawful that you should gratify the desires of your nature 1 is it not rather the immoderate gratification which he denounces as criminal^ and is it not actually a law of your constitution, that this immoderate gratification defeats itself, so that your choicest pleasures, taken in excess, pall upon the appetite, and produce but disgust 1 In all accu- sations which you bring against God, you assume that he requires the sur- render of whatsoever constitutes the happiness of beings so conditioned as yourselves : whereas it is susceptible of the fullest demonstration, that the re- straints which his laws put on your de- sires, and the bounds which they set to the indulgence of your wishes, do no- thing but prevent these desires ;and wishes from becoming your tyrants, and therefore your tormentors. And what have you to say against restric- tions, which after all are but safeguards for yourselves and your fellow-men — restrictions, the universal submission to which would turn the world into one peaceful and flourishing communi- ty, and the setting which at nought is certain to be followed by the worst consequences to individuals and socie- ty 1 It is idle to contend that God re- quires from you a moderation and self- denial, which, constituted and circum- stanced as you are, it is unjust to ex- pect, when he asks only what you can- not grant without being incalculably benefited ; nor refuse, without being as much injured. We are not here speaking, be it ob- served, of the benefit and injury which PLEADING BEFORE THE MOUNTAINS. S83 are distinctly annexed, as reward and penalty, to the several divine laws ; for we could hardly expect you to admit that these bear directly on our argu- ment. We speak of the benefit and in- jury which follow in the way of natu- ral consequence, and which therefore may be regarded as resulting from the human constitution, rather than from specific enactments of the universal Ruler. And we may confidently assert, that, if there were nothing to be consi- dered but the amount of enjoyment, that man would consult best for him- self who should impose such restraints on his desires as God's law prescribes, inasmuch as he would never then be- come the slave of those desires : unli- mited indulgence makes slavery, and slavery misery. And though you may further plead the amazing power of temptation, and the known inability of man to resist the solicitations of the objects of sense, we plainly tell you that herein you ex- aggerate the strength of an enemy, on- ly that you may apologize for defeat. You speak as if God offered man no assistance, whereas the whole of his revelation is one proffer of such helps as will suffice to secure victory. It is altogether a misrepresentation, to dwell on the vehemence of passions and the energy of solicitations, as though there were nothing to be said on the other side ; whilst it is certain that there has been made such provision on our be- half, that he who will seek the appoint- ed aids may make sure of conquest. Add to this, for we have higher ground on which to meet you, that God has not required you to live righteously, without proposing an adequate motive. Estimate at what you will the present sacrifice — though we are persuaded, as we have already stated, that you are asked to surrender nothing which you would be the happier for keeping — but make what estimate you choose of the present sacrifice, you cannot say that God does not offer vastly more than its compensation, in offering eternal life to such as subjugate themselves. Take then the matter under every pos- sible point of view, and we think that you must be cast in the controversy into which you have entered before the mountains and the strong foundations of the earth. You have urged your plea, and now it behoves you to be si- lent whilst God shall urge his. You have virtually contended that God has done something unjust by placing you in your present condition, and that he has wearied you by imposing on you grievous^commands. But hear, if we may venture on so bold an expression, hear his defence. He rises up to plead with you, and these are his words. I did all which could be done for your forefather Adam, gifting him with high powers, and subjecting him to slight trial. If therefore you have inherited a corrupt nature, it was not through defect in my arrangements for your good. I did what promised most for'your advantage, and what you would have thankfully consented to, had you been present when Adam was made your representative. And though, when you had fallen, I might justly have left you to your misery, 1 determined and effected your redemption, though it could only be achieved through the death of my Avell-beloved Son. By and through this redemption, I provi- ded for you the means of subduing pas- sions however strong, and withstand- ing temptations however powerful. And whilst I made it your duty, I made it also, in every sense, your interest, ^'to live soberly, righteously, and godly in the world." My commandments " are not grievous :" " in keeping of them there is great reward." Nothing is forbidden, which, if permitted, would make you happier; nothing enjoined which could be dispensed with with- out injury. The ways in which I re- quire you to walk are "ways of plea- santness" and peace; and they termi- nate|in a happiness which would be incalculably more than a compensa- tion, even if the path lay through un- varied wretchedness. Where then is the justice of your complaint, or ra- ther of your accusation 1 O it is thus that God may expose the hollowness and falsehood of all that reasoning, by which those who love sin would prove themselves excusable in yielding to its power. I hear him appeal to the moun- tains and the hills, as though these were more likely than the stony heart of man to answer him with truth. And when he has shown how much he hath done for man, what provisions he has made for his resisting and overcoming 384< PLEADING BEFORE THE MOUNTAINS. evil, what present and future recom- penses are annexed to the keeping his commandments, I seem to hear the mountains and the hills giving forth their loud verdict — yea, the forests which are upon them bow in assent, and the rivers which flow from them murmur their testimony, and from sum- mit to summit is echoed the approving plaudit, as the Almighty again utters the challenge, "0 my people, what have I done unto thee, and wherein have I wearied thee 1 testify against me." And thus far the accusation has on- ly been, that God asks from man what, under man's circumstances, ought not to be expected : man being, by nature, strongly inclined to sin ; and God's law requiring him to do violence to inclina- tions, for whose existence he is in no degree answerable. But the court is not dissolved, and fresh indictments may be brought. Let, then, men ap- proach, and complain, if they will, of the dealings of God, of the unequal distribution of his gifts, of the preva- lence of misery, and the successfulness of wickedness. It is not to be disputed, that numbers are disposed to murmur against the dispensations of provi- dence, and even to derive from them arguments against the impartiality of God's moral government, or the advan- tageousness of adhering to his service. They count it surpassingly strange that so much wretchedness should exist beneath the sway of a Being as bene- volent as powerful ; and, if possible, yet more strange, that no amount of piety should secure an individual a- gainst his share in this wretchedness j nay, that, in many cases, piety should seem only to make that share greater. Well, there is now nothing to prevent the complaint from being urged ; God has himself invited you to state every grievance, so that, without incurring his displeasure, you may bring your charges against his dealings with your- selves. We may however suppose you, in this instance, to limit the charge to his dealings with those who are em- phatically his people : you will hardly throw blame upon him for that misery which results purely from vice, and which would almost wholly disappear if men submitted to his laws. If you put out of the account that unhappiness which is the direct consequence on ! wickedness, and for which therefore it would be palpably unjust to reproach God, you have all the human misery which can excite wonder, or furnish, even in appearance, any groundwork of complaint. And undoubtedly there is thus left no inconsiderable sum : the righteous may be exempt from many afflictions which their own sins bring upon the wicked ; but nevertheless their share of trouble is very large, and includes much which is peculiar to themselves. It is against this that men are disposed to make exceptions; arguing that it can scarce be equitable in God to allot so much of trouble and pain to those who love him in sincerity, and serve him with diligence. They object in- deed, as we have already said, to the whole course of the divine govern- ment; contending that there is too much of permitted evil, and too little of bestowed good to make that go- vernment worthy of God. But if the objection be of weight in any case, it must be in that of the righteous; so that to remove it in this will be to de- stroy it in every other. And if it be easy for God to vindicate himself a- gainst any charge, it is against that which impeaches his dealings with his people. He has no difficulty in proving that "he doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men." Let him enter into controversy with you, and then see whether you will venture to maintain your accusations. It is in terms such as these that he may be supposed to justify his dealings. It is true that those whom I love I chasten, even " as a father the son in whom he delighteth." But it is because I have to deal with an ungrateful and stubborn nature, which cannot be train- ed by any other discipline for the joys of mine own immediate presence. If the hearts of my people were not so prone to the attaching themselves to earth, I should not use such rough means of loosening the bonds : if they were not so ready to fall into slumber, I should not so often speak to them with a startling voice. I might indeed have annexed temporal prosperity to genuine religion, so that whosoever served me in truth should have been thereby secured against the chief forms of trouble. But wherein would have it jar i PLEADirvG BEFORE THE MOUIs'TAIiXS. 385 been the mercifulness of such an ar- rangement l Who knows not that, even as it is, life with all its cares is clung to with extraordinary tenacity, and that the present, with all its sorrows, is practically almost preferred to the fu- ture 1 Those who have set their " af- fections on things above," can hardly bring themselves to the entering on their possession, though urged by va- rious disappointments and disasters j and they who have been the longest engaged in preparing for death, and ;vho seem to have least of what can make earth desirable, show a reluc- ;;ance, as the time of departure ap- proaches, which proves them still un- luly attached to what they must leave. vVhat would it be, if the arrangement vere altered, and piety conferred an 'xemptionfrom suffering'? There would hen be a continual strengthening of the lies which bind the soul to earth : the longer the term of human life, the jreater would be the unwillingness to lepart, and the more imperfect the pre- aration for a higher state of being, .nd though it be thus needful that lany should be the troubles of the ighteous, are those troubles unmiti- atedl are there no compensating cir- nmstances which make a father's chas- sement prove a father's love 1 It is in le season of deep sorrow that I com- lunicate the richest tokens of my fa- ar. Then it is, when the spirit is sub- ued and the heart disquieted, that I nd opportunity of fulfilling the choi- 2st promises registered in my word ; ) that even mourners themselves of- a break into the exclamation, " It is >od for us that we were afflicted." I take away earthly wealth, it is that ere may be more room for heavenly : I remove the objects of ardent at- chment, it is that I may fill the void ith more of myself. Thus with every rrow there is an appropriate conso- tion ; every loss makes way for a 'in ; and every blighted hope is but rent to a better. And what is to be said, men and 'lethfen, against the vindication which 'od thus advances of his dealings "? Is i2 complaint substantiated which you ^ntured to produce in that magnificent •amber which he reared for his con- tiversy w^ith his people 1 Let the very ')untains judge, let the strong foun- I dations of the earth give a verdict. " O my people, what have I done un- to thee, and wherein have I wearied thee 1" I have suffered trouble to come upon you, but only as an instru- ment for good 5 and never have I left you to bear it alone, but have always been at hand to comfort and uphold. I have suflered death to enter your households, but only that you might be trained for immortality ; and there has not been a tear which you have been forced to shed, which I have not been ready to wipe from the eye. I have suffered schemes to be disap- pointed, expectations to be baffled, friends to prove treacherous ; but only that you might more prize and strive after the ''better and enduring sub- stance ;" and never have I thus brought you into the wilderness, without going before you in the pillar of fire and cloud. Do ye then arraign my deal- ings'? do ye accuse them of severity "? The inanimate creation shall utter my vindication. The solid rocks which have beforetime been rent at my voice ; the lofty eminences which have bowed and done homage at my presence ,• the trees which have waved exultingly, and the floods which have lifted up their waters, at fresh manifestations of my greatness — to these I appeal ; let these decide in this strangest of controver- sies. And so evident is it, brethren, that God chastens for your good, and afflicts only to bless, that we seem to hear the sound as of an earthquake in reply to this appeal, the sound as of rocking forests, the sound as of rush- ing waters ; and all gathered into one emphatic decision that your Creator is clear in this matter, and that, therefore, it must be on some fresh charge, if you would so testify against him as to prove that you have ground of com- plaint. But we must change the scene. Having allowed you to produce your accusations against the laws and deal- ings of God, it is time that we suppose God the accuser, and put you on your defence. We stated, in an earlier part of our discourse, that, since there was to be a controversy, both parties must be heard ; that each must produce his cause, and plead his matter of com- plaint. The court has been hitherto occupied with your alleged grievances, 49 386 PLEADING BEFORE THE MOUNTAINS. but you have failed to make good apy charge against God. But you now ap- pear in an opposite character : God has accusations to prefer against you ; prepare then yourselves, and meditate your answer. Ah' .my brethren, how- ever bold you were before, Avhen you were permitted, yea, bidden to testify against God, you seem ready to shrink away and hide yourselves, now that God is about to testify against you. These mighty rocks, these towering hills, by which you are encircled, you would fain call upon them to cover you, that you might be hidden from one who can bring against you, as you too well know, such overwhelming charges. But this cannot be. God con- descended to listen to your accusa- tions, and you must stay, at whatever cost, and abide his. With what words shall, the Almighty commence his indictment, if not with those which were the first which he charged Isaiah to utter 1 " Hear, O heavens, and give ear, earth ; .for the Lord hath spoken, I have nourish- ed and brought up children, and they have rebelled against me." There is not one of you on whom he has not bestowed countless mercies : he has been about the path, and about the bed, of each: and had it not been for the watchfulness of his providence, and the tenderness of his love, there is not one of you who would not have been long ago crushed by calamities, and stripped of all the elements of happi- ness. But you have been guarded and sustained from infancy upwards ; you have been fed by his bounty, warmed by his sun, shielded by hispowpr; and thus has he been to each of you as a father, — a father in comparison of wliom the kindest earthly parent might be counted a stranger. And what he has done for you in temporal respects may almost be forgotten, when you come to consider what he has done for you in spiritual. There is not one amongst you for whom he did not give up his only and well-beloved Son to ignominy and death: not one on whom he has not wrought by his preventing grace : not one to whom he has not sent the tidings of redemption : not one to whom he has not offered immea- surable happiness in his own glorious kinsfdom. And what has he received in return for all thisl However pe; suaded and thankful we may be, thti there are those in this assembly who have been softened and subdued b what God hath done on their behal and who have cordially devoted then- selves to his service, we dare not doul that numbers, perhaps the inajorit- perhaps the great majority, are still i enmity with the Being who has striven by every means to reconcile them to himself. There are the young, who are refusing to remember their Creator in the days of their youth. There are the old, who think that repentance maybe^ safely deferred, whilst they enjoy a lit-j tie more pleasure, or accumulate a lit-| tie more wealth. There are the rich,] who make gold their hope, and finC' p-old their confidence ; there are the poor, whom even destitution cannoti urge to seek treasure above. j And what can such say, now that! they are standing in controversy withi God 1 Let us pause yet a moment long-! er, that vi^e may hear what God has toj urge against men. There occur to thei mind those striking words in the bookj of Revelation, *' Behold I stand at thej door and knock." God seems to enn merate the modes in which he ht. knocked at the door of our hearts, aiu to appeal to them in proof how just an his complaints of our obduracy, Wt might almost say that he knocks b} every object in creation, and by ever provision in redemption. If I loo abroad upon the magnificence of tli heavens, there is not a star in all tli: glorious troop which comes marchin through immensity, which does rr summon me to acknowledge and a; mire the power of Godhead, and whic may not therefore be said to make a appeal at the door of the heart, audi bly by all who yield homage to a Cren tor. If I survey the earth on which v dwell, and study its marvellousa dapl: tions to the wants of its inhabitanf. and scrutinize what goes on in the vr.i laboratories of nature ,• or if I desceii into myself, ^' fearfully and wonderful! made," and. examine the curious mf chanism, the beneficent contrivance: and the exquisite symmetries, whic distinguish the body — why, there nothing without, and there is nothin within, which does not call to the r memberingand reverencing God: ev Ji PLEADING- BEFORE THE BIOU.NTAINS. 387 ry feature of the landscape, every tree of the forest, every flower of the gar- den, every joint and every muscle of my frame, all are gifted with energy in proclaiming that there is a Supreme Being, infinite in wisdom and goodness as well as in might ; and through each, therefore, may this Being be affirmed to knock at the heart, demanding its love and allegiance. And God knocks, as you will all allow, by the visitations of his Providence : he knocks, more- over, by the suggestions of conscience and the strivings of the Spirit. Who is there of you who will presume to say that he never heard this knocking ? iWe know better. We know that, in the worst storm and mutiny of passion, Iwhen the heart itself has been the scene jof conflict and turmoil, the wild and jaattling inmates have often been star- lied by an appeal from without; and that, for a moment at least, there has peen the hush as of shame or of fear, l>o that there has been space for an en- ;rgetic remonstrance, a remonstrance ivhich, if it failed to produce perma- jient order, left a heavier condemnation ^n the wretched slave of the flesh and jts lusts. It is not then diflicult for jrod, or for Christ, to show that this 'las indeed been his course with you |11 — "I stand at the door and knock." Sut you have opened the door to a jiousand other guests ; you have re- jeived them into the recesses of the jeart ; but Him you have coldly re- julsed, or superciliously neglected. O, f'e fear that he may say to too many t" you, I stood, and knocked in the pur of prosperity, but ye gave no heed t a message delivered in the form of 'jundance and gladness. I came in e darkness and stillness of adversity, inking that you might open to me jhen you were careworn and sad; but pu chose other comforters, and 1 ask- l you in vain to receive " the Lord of ace." I called you through all the )ries and all the wonders of the visi my Son was stretched to deliver you from death : you were too busy, or too proud, or too unbelieving, to give ear to the invitation ; and I pleaded in vain, though I pleaded as the conqueror of your every foe. And in many an hour of temptation, in many a moment of guilty pleasure, amid the noise of bu- siness and in the retirements of soli- tude, I have knocked so loudly, through the instrumentality of conscience, that you could not but start, and make some faint promise of admitting me hereaf- ter; but, alas, when I looked for the opening of the door, you have but bar- red it more effectually against me. Ah, if it be by such a reference to the modes in which he has knocked at your hearts, but knocked in vain, that God conducts his side of the contro- versy, what can you have to plead 1 It is in very moving terms that he urges his accusation. I have long and ten- derly watched you. I have spared no pains to turn you from evil. By mer- cies and by judgments, by promises and by threatenings, I have striven to fix your thoughts on the things which belong to your peace. I counted no- thing too costly to be done for your rescue : I spared not mine own Son ; and I have borne, year after y^ear, with your waywardness and ingratitude, not willing that you should perish, though you have acted as if resolved that you would not be saved. And now "testify against me." " What could have been done more to my vineyard that I have not done in it l AVherefore, when I looked that it should bring forth grapes, brought it forth wild grapes 1" Is it that you have not been warned, though I have sent my servants to publish my terrors 1 is it that you have not been entreated, though I have charged them with the tidings of redemption I This, to sum all, is my accusation against you. Ye have derived your being from have been sustained in being me, ye by me, ye have been continually the universe ; but it availed nothing j objects of my bounty, continually the ' I wrote my summons on the firma- { objects of my long-suffering ; and ne- 'ut, and syllabled it alike in the voices | vertheless, ye are still unmindful of my d the silences of immensity : "ye j hand, still living " without God in the ^ set at nought all my counsel, and ; world," still walking in ways of your lid none of my reproof." I gave you own devising, still crucifying my Son word, I sent to you my Gospel ; afresh, and putting away from you the it was to no purpose that I knock- j offer of everlasting life. with the cross, the cross on which | What have you to say against this II 388 PLEADING BEFORE THE MOUNTAINS. accusation 1 we do not believe that you will attempt to say any thing. We are persuaded, that, as it was with the man who had not on the wedding-gar- ment, you will be speechless. Ay, but God shall not want an answer, he shall not want a verdict, because, self-con- demned, you have no word to utter. Not in vain hath he summoned the mountains and the strong foundations of the earth to be present at his con- troversy with you. The very hills have Avitnessed his loving-kindness towards you, clothed as they have been with the corn, and crested with the fruits, which he has bountifully provided for your sustenance. And on one of these mountains of the earth was the altar erected on which his Son died ; and so fearful was the oblation, that Calvary shook at the cry of the mysterious victim. And now, therefore, whilst he charges you with ingratitude, whilst he arrays against you the continued provocations, the insult, the neglect, which he has received at your hands; whilst he speaks of abused mercies, of despised opportunities, of resisted en- treaties ; and you remain silent, unable to refute the charge, and yet unwilling to acknowledge its truth — there is a sound as of heaving rocks, and of foam- ing torrents, and of bursting volcanoes ; nature, which became vocal when a Mediator died, utters a yet deeper groan now that a Mediator is reject- ed : and hill and forest, and rock and flood, send forth one mighty cry, the cry of amazement that men should " neglect so great salvation," the cry of acknowledgment that the Almighty has made good his accusations. And are we here to dissolve the court ] Man has failed to show where- in God has wearied him ; but God has drawn a verdict from the inanimate creation that he himself has been wea- ried by man. It is a strange expression to use ; but it is quite consistent with the language of Scripture, that we should speak of God as wearied by our sins.- "Ye have wearied the Lord," we read in the prophet Malachi, "yet ye say, wherein have we wearied him 1" " Hear," saith Isaiah, " house of Da- vid ; is it a small thing for you to wea- ry men; but will ye weary my God alsol" And did not God himself say, by the mouth of the same prophet, to those who rendered him hypocritical ii service, " your new moons, and your appointed feasts, my soul hateth ; they are a trouble unto me, I am weary to bear them V We will not then dissolve the court. It is so startling a consid- eration, that we should be actually able to weary God ; the'thing, if done, must entail so terrible a condemnation, that we may well remain yet a few moments longer within the august chamber which was built for the controversy, to pon- der our state, and examine what has been proved by these judicial proceed- ings. It is very clear, that, if God may be wearied, we may exhaust his pa- tience, so that he may be provoked to leave us to ourselves, to withdraw from us the assistance of his grace, and to determine that he will make no further effort to bring us to repentance. And on this account especially it is, that there is such emphasis in the words of our Savior, " agree with thine adver- sary quickly, while thou art in the way with him." Try not his patience too far ; venture not actually into court with him ; but quickly, without any further delay, seek to compose your difference, "lest at any time the adver- sary deliver thee to the judge, and the judge deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into prison." It is this counsel which we would pray God might be imprinted by our discourse on those of you who have not yet been reconciled to their Maker. You have indeed come this night into court, and you have been altogether cast in your suit. But the trial has not been that which will fix your portion for eterni- ty. It has only been with the view of alarming you, of bringing you to see the perils of the position in which you stand, that God has now entered into controversy with you, and summoned you to plead with him before the moun- tains of the earth. And the verdict against you, which has been delivered by hill and forest, is but a solemn ad- monition, a warning which, if duly and instantly heeded, shall cause a wholly different decision, when you appear atj, that tribunal whose sentences must bel final. The mountains and the strong foun-| dations of the earth, yea, the whole vi-| sible creation, may again be appealed to : they may again be witnesses, when PLEADING BEFORE THE BIOUKTAINS. 389 God shall arise to judgment, and call quick and dead to his bar. It gives a very sublime, though awful, character to the last assize, thus to regard it as imaged by the controversy in our text. I see a man brought to the judgment- seat of Christ : the accusation against him is, that he lived a long life in ne- glect and forgetfulness of God, enjoy- ing many blessings, but never giving a thought to the source whence they came. Who are witnesses against himl Lo, the sun declares, every day I wak- ened him by my glorious shinings, flooding the heavens with evidences of a God : but he rose without a prayer from his couch ; and he made no use of the light but to prosecute his plans of pleasure or gain. The moon and the stars assert that " nightly, to the listening earth" they repeated the story of their origin 5 but that, though they spangled the curtain which was drawn round his bed, he lay down, as he rose, jwith no word of supplication ; and that icften were the shadows of the night used only to conceal his guiltiness from man. Hills and valleys have a voice : forests and fountains have a voice : every feature of the variegated land- scape testifies that it bore the impress of a God, but always failed to awaken any reverence for his name. There is ,not an herb, there is not a flower, which will be silent. The corn is asserting that its ripe ears were gathered with- out thankfulness : the spring is mur- jmuring that its waters were drawn jwithout gratitude : the vine is testifj'- ing that its rich juices were distilled to produce a false joy. The precious metals of the earth are all stamped with accusation, for they were sought Avith a guilty avidity ; the winds of heaven breathe a stern charge, for they were never laden with praises ; the waves of the great deep toss them- selves into witnesses, for they were traversed by ships that luxuries might be gathered, but not that Christianity might be diffused. Take heed, man of the world, how thou dost thus arm all nature against thyself. Be warned by the voice which the inanimate creation is already uttering, and make peace Avith thine adversary " whilst thou art in the way with him." Thine adver- sary ! and who is thisl Not the sun, not the moon, not the troop of stars, not the forests, not the mountains : these are but witnesses on the side of thine adversary. The adversary him- self — oh they are words which almost choke the utterance ! — the adversary himself is the everlasting God. Yet he wishes to be your friend : he offers to be your friend : there is nothing but your own determination which can keep you at enmity. By the terrors of the last judgment, by all the hopes, by all the fears of eternity, do I con- jure such of you as have not yet made peace with their God, to turn at once to the Mediator Christ : " God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself;" and now he beseeches you through us, " Be ye reconciled un- to God." 390 HEAVEN, SERMON XI HEAVEN. " And there siiall be no night there ; and they need no candle, neither light of the sun ; for the Lord God 'givetli them light: and they ishall reign for ever and ever." — Revelation, 22 : 5. Our position upon earth is repre- sented, as you well know, in Scripture as that of combatants, of beings en- gaged in a great struggle, but to whom is proposed a vast recompense of re- ward. The imagery which St. Paul delights to use, when illustrating our condition, is derived from the public games so famous in antiquity. The competitors in a race, the opponents in wrestling, are the parties to whom he loves to liken himself and other fol- lowers of Christ. i\nd the imagery is employed not only as aptly depicting a state of struggle and conflict ; but because they who entered the lists in the public games were animated by the hope of prizes which success was to procure ; and because, in like manner, it is the privilege of christians to know that, if they be faithful to the end, con- test will issue in an '' exceeding and eternal weight of glory." Shame upon the spiritual combatants, the apostle seems in one place to say, if they can be languid in exertion. A paltry re- compense will urge the v/restler, or the runner, to submit to painful train- ing, and to strain every muscle. Shall we then, with heaven full in view, grudge the toil, or spare the effort, which may be needful to secure a por- tion in its joys 1 "They do it to ob- tain a corruptible crown, but we an incorruptible." If however the prize is to produce its just influence in animating to exer- tion, it must be often surveyed, that we iTiay assure ourselves of its ex- cellence, and therefore long more for its possession. The competitor in the games had the honored garland in sight : if inclined for a moment to slacken, he had but to turn his eye on the coronet, and he pressed with new vigor towards the goal. It should be thus with the christian, with the spiritual competitor. He should have his thoughts much on heaven : he should refresh himself with frequent glimpses of the shining inheritance. By deep meditation, by prayerful stu- dy of the scriptural notices of another world, he should strive to prove to himself more and more that it is in- deed a good land towards 'which he journeys. He should not be content with a vague and general belief, that the things reserved for those who love God must be worth all the efiorts and sacrifices which attainment can de- mand. This will hardly suffice, Avhen set against the pleasures and allure- ments of the world : he must be able to oppose good to good, and to satisfy himself on the evidence, as it were, of his own affections, that he prefers what is infinitely best in preferring the fu- ture to the present. And certainly he may do this. With- out speaking unadvisedly, or enthusi- astically, nay, speaking only the words of soberness and truth, we may safely say that those who muse much on hea- ven, who ponder its descriptions, and strive to image its occupations and enjoyments, are often privileged with such foretastes of what God hath pre- pared for his people, as serve, like the clusters of Eshcol, to teach them prac- tically the richness of Canaan. With them it is not altogether matter of re- > port, that the inheritance of the saints is transcendently glorious : it is.alrea- IlKAVEX. 391 dy true in part, that, '' as they have heard, so have they seen in the city of their God." They liave waited upon the Lord, until, according to the pro- mise of Isaiah, they have been enabled to " mount up with wings as eagles ;" they have gazed for a moment on the street of gold, and have heard the harp- ings of the innumerable multitude. Now if it be thus of exceeding im- portance to the christian that he should often meditate upon heaven, it must be the duty of the minister to bring be- fore him occasionally those descrip- tions of the world to come, which God has been pleased to furnish in his word. And a very delightful part this is of ministerial duty. We are often con- strained to set forth the terrors of the Lord, though natural feeling would make us shrink from dwelling on the vengeance which will surely overtake the careless and unbelieving. We are obliged to insist very frequently on the first principles of Christianity, " laying the foundation of repentance from dead works, and of faith towards God." And it is not a rare thing, that sermons have to talce a reproachful character, exhibiting the sins and inconsistencies of professors of godliness, upbraiding the defective practice of those who name the name of Christ, and urging them, in no measured terms, to "walk worthy of the vocation wherewith they are called." But it were a great mis- take to imagine that the preacher con- sults his own inclination, in selecting such topics of discourse. Far more agreeable to him would it be to dilate upon privileges, to address his hearers simply as heirs of immortality, and to exhaust all his energy on the lively hope to which they are begotten. But this must not always be, whilst con- gregations are composed of the be- lieving and the unbelieving, whilst pro- bably the majority is with the latter, and whilst even the former come far short of " adorning the doctrine of God the Savior in all things." Still, as we have already said, the clergy- man is not only permitted, he is bound, to take heaven occasionally as his theme : and a very refreshing thing to him it is, when he may devote a dis- course to the joys which are in reserve for the righteous. Come then, men and brethren, we have no terrors for you to-night, no reproaches, no thrcaten- ings. We are about to speak to you of the New Jerusalem, the celestial city, into Avhich " shall enter nothing that defileth," but whose gates stand open to all who seek admission through the suretyship of Christ. We select one verse from the glow- ing account which St. John has left us of the vision with which he was favor- ed, after tracing, in mystic figures, the history of the church up to the general resurrection and judgment.. The two last chapters of the book of Revela- tion, inasmuch as they describe what was beheld after thegeneral judgment, must be regarded as relating strictly to the heavenly state. The book of Revelation is a progressive book : it goes forward regularly from one pe- riod to a folloAving ; and this should be always borne in mind when we strive to fix the meaning of any of its parts. It has so much the character of a his- tory, that the dates, so to speak, of its chapters will often guide us to their just interpretation. And since the twentieth chapter closes with the set- ting up of the great white throne, and the judgment of every man according to his works, we conclude that what remains of the book belongs to that final condition of the saints, which we are wont to understand by heaven and its joys. This being allowed, we may go at once to the examining the asser- tions of our text, applying them with- out reserve to our everlasting inherit- ance. The assertions are of two kinds, negative and positive. They tell us what there is not in heaven, and what there is. Let these then furnish our topics of discourse, though in treat- ing of the one Ave shall perhaps find it needful to trench on the other. Let us consider, in the first place, that there is no night in heaven, no candle, no light of the sun : let us consider, in the second place, that there the Lord God Almighty shall give the saints light, and that '' they shall reign for ever and ever." Now Ave majr begin by observing to you, that, Avith eur present constitu- tion, there Avould be nothing cheering in an arrangement Avhich took away night from our globe. The alternation of day and night, the tAvo always mak- ing up the same period of tAventy-four 392 HEAVEN. hours, is among the most beautiful of the many proofs that God fitted the earth for man, and man for the earth. We know that other planets revolve in very different times on their axis, so that their days and nights are of very different lengths from our own. We could not live on one of those planets. We could not, at least, conform our- selves to the divisions of time: for we require a period of repose in every twenty-four hours, and could not sub- sist, if there were only to come such a period in every hundred, or in every thousand. The increased length of the period would avail us nothing : it would not be adapted to the human machine : we could not sleep for three of our present days, and so be fitted to keep awake for ten. Thus the present divi- sion of time has clearly been appoint- ed with reference to our constitution : we have been made on purpose for a world which revolves in twenty-four hours, or that world, if you will, has been made on purpose for us.* Since then we require the present alternation of light and darkness, we may fairly say that it is no pleasant image to the mind, that of a world without night : it is, at least, only by supposing a great change to pass on our constitution and faculties, that w^e can give to the image any thing of attractiveness. And besides this, it is very easy to speak of night as the season of drea- riness and gloom, as the representa- tive of ignorance and error — but what should we be without night 1 Where is there so eloquent an instructor as nia:ht X What reveals so much of the workmanship of the ever-living God"? Imagine this world to have been always without night, and what comparatively would its inhabitants have known of the universe! It would have seemed to them, at least to those on the ir- radiated hemisphere, that their own globe and the sun made up creation. They might have studied the wonders which overspread the earth, and have surveyed, with admiration and delight, the glorious face of the ever-changing landscape. But they could not have gazed on the mighty map of the firma- ment : they could scarcely have even conjectured that space, in its remotest * See Whewell's Bridgewater treatise, " Length of the Day." depths, was crowded with systems and i constellations, and that the world on which they trode was but the solitary unit of a sum which imagination was too weak to tell up. So that night, with all its obscurity and concealment, re- veals unspeakably more to us than day : then it is that the astronomer goes forth on his wondrous search, passing through region after region, studded splendidly with star and planet: the sun, by his very brightness, has hidden from him all this rich jewelry of the heavens ; and it is not till set as a dia- dem round the forehead of darkness that he is able to look on its lustres. So that there is not necessarily any thing very desirable in the absence of night : it would be the reverse of a blessing to us in our present condition, and would imply the diminution rather than the enlargement of knowledge. What then are we to learn from the statement, that there shall be no night in heaven 1 We learn much, whether you take it literally or metaphorically ; whether, that is, it be the natural, or the figurative, night, whose total ab- sence is affirmed. Night is now grate- ful, yea necessary, to us, as bringing quiet and repose to overwrought bodies and minds. We cannot prosecute any labor, however profitable, any study, however interesting, without granting ourselves periods of rest : we may sore- ly grudge the interruption ; we may endeavor to abbreviate the periods: but nature imperiously claims her time of slumber, and is sure to avenge its undue abridgment by the\veariness andj waste of every power. But all this! arises from the imperfectness of our present condition : we are so consti- tuted that we cannot incessantly pur- sue either occupation or enjoyment, but must recruit ourselves by repose, whether for business or pleasure. And it would evidently be to raise us very greatly in the scale of animated being, to make it no longer needful that we should have intervals of rest ; body and soul being incapable of exhaustion, or rather of fatigue. What a mind would that be vv^hich could continue, hour al- ter hour, yea, day after day, intent on; the acquisition of knowledge, never pausing for a moment to give breath-; ing time to its powers, but advancing in unwearied march from one height HiiAVEK. to another of truth. And what a body would that be, which should never, by any want or infirmity, detain or hinder such a mind, but rather serve as its auxiliary, aiding and upholding in its ceaseless investigations, in place of re- quiring it to halt for the recruiting of the flesh. It is such a change, such an advance- ment, in our condition, v/hich appears indicated by there being no night in heaven. There is no night there, be- cause there we shall need no periods of inactivity : we shall never be sensi- ble of fatigue, and never either wish or want repose. It shall not be as now, when we must stop in the pursuit of what we long for, or become incapable of pursuit, and in the enjoyment of what we love, or become incapable of enjoyment. Never tired by performing- God's will, never wearied by. celebra- ting his praises, we shall feel ahvays the freshness of the morning, always as at the beginning of a day, and yet ie always as far off as ever from its close. It is given as one characteristic of Deity, that he never slumbers nor sleeps. It is affirmed moreover of the ' four living creatures which are round I about the throne, that they " rest not ■ day and night, saying, Holy, holy, holy Lord God Almighty, which was, and is, and is to come." So that it is a per- fection to need no sleep : it is to be like the very highest of created intelli- gences ; nay, it is to be like the very Creator himself. And, therefore, I read the promise of a splendid exaltation, of an inconceivable enlargement of every faculty and capacity, in the announce- ment of the absence of night. This my mind, Vk'hichis now speedily overtasked, which is jaded by every increase of knowledge, which breaks down, as it were, if urged beyond a certain point, shall never be obliged to withdraw from itije contemplation of the august won- ders of heaven. This my body, whose wants unavoidably engage much of my attention, whose weaknesses incapaci- tate me from continuous application, "hich is little better than a drag upon .13 spirit when it would, soar towards iie dwelling-place of God, shall have organs and senses for aiding the soul n her incessant inquiries, powers which >hall never flag, but seem perpetually nvigorated through being perpetually employed. How glorious then the prom- ise of advancement, contained in the promise of there being no night in hea- ven. All feebleness, all remains and traces of imperfection, for ever remo- ved, the saints shall spring to a sur- prising height amongst orders of crea- tion, fitted not only in their intellectual part, but even in their material, to serve God without a pause, and to enjoy whilst they serve him. And though it be true that night * now discloses to us the wonders of the universe, so that to take from us night were to take a revelation of the magnificence of creation, whence comes this but from the imperfection of faculties — faculties which only enable us to discern certain bodies, and under certain circumstances, and which pro- bably suffer far more to escape them than they bring to our notice ] We speak of the powers of vision, and very amazing they are, giving us a kind of empire- over a vast panorama, so that we gather in its beauties, and com- pel them, as though by enchantment, to paint themselves in miniature through the tiny lenses of the eye. But never- theless how feeble are these powers ! bodies of less than a certain magnitude altogether escape them ; the micro- scope must be called in, though this only carries the empire one or two de- grees lower : whilst other bodies, aeri- al for example, or those which move with extraordinary velocity, are eiiher invisible, or only partially discerned. And is it not on account of this feeble- ness of power, that the eye asks the shadows of night before it can survey the majestic troop of stars 1 That troop is on its everlasting march, as v/ell whilst the sun is high on the firma- ment, as when he has gone down amid the clouds of the west j and it is only because the ej'-e has not strength to discern the less brilliant bodies, in the presence of the great luminary of the heavens, that it must wait for darkness to disclose to it the peopled scenes of immensity. I glory then once more in the pre- dicted absence of night. Be it so, that night is now our choice instructor, and that a world of perpetual sunshine would be a world of eross ier what is affirmed by St. John, " This then is the message which we have heaard of him, and declare unto you, that God is light, and in him is no dark- ness at all." And therefore God, in some ineffable way, is to communicate himself to the soul. There will proba- bly be a communication of ideas:* God will substitute his ideas, great, noble, luminous, for our own, contracted, con- fused, obscure ; and we shall become like him, in our measure, though par- ticipating his knowledge. There will be a communication of excellences: God will so vividly impress his image upon us, that we shall be holy even as he is holy. There will be a communi- cation of happiness : God will cause us to be happy in the very way in which he is happy himself, making what constitutes his felicity to con- stitute ours, so that we shall be like him in the sources or springs of en- joyment. All this seems included in the saying that the Lord God is to give us light. And though we feel that we are but laboring to describe, by all this accumulation of expression, what must be experienced before it can be understood, we may yet hope that you have caught something of the grandeur of the thought, that God himself is to be to us hereafter what the sun in the firmament is to us here. We wish you to give, if possible, something of defi- niteness to the thought, by observing what an enlargement it supposes of all the powers of our nature ; for now it would consume us to be brought into intimate intercourse with God ; we must have the sun, we must have the candle ; our faculties are not adapted to the living in his presence, where there is no veil upon his lustres. Hence we have in the figurative sketch of our text, in the part which makes God the source of all illumination, as well as in that which asserts the absence of night, a representation of man as nobly elevated amongst orders of being, and of the subliniest knowledge as thrown open to his search. Man is elevated ; for he has passed from the ordinances and institutions of an introductory state, to the open vision and free com- munion of spirits who never sullied their immortality. The sublimest know- ledge is made accessible ; for Avith God * Saurin. 398 HEAVEN. for his sun, into what depths can he penetrate, and not find fresh truth^ 1 Avith God as his temple, along what aisle of the stupendous edifice can he pass, and not collect from every co- lumn, and every arch, majestic disco- veries! where can he stand, and not hear the pervading spirit of the sanc- tuary breathing out secrets which he had vainly striven to explore, and won- ders which he had not dared to con- jecture ] And thus, if it be a blessed thinsf to know that hereafter, set free from all the trainings of an elementary dispensation, we shall take our place, in the beauty and might of our manhood, amongst the nobles of creation ; that, gifted with capacities, and privileged with opportunities, for deriving from immediate contact with Deity acquain- tance with all that is illustrious in the universe, we shall no longer need those means and agencies, Vv'hethcr of nature or grace, which, whilst they strengthen and inform, prove us not made perfect — yea, if it be a blessed thing to know this, it is also a blessed thing to hear that there shall be no candle, no sun, in the heavenly Jerusalem. The sub- stitution of God himself for every pre- sent source of light, is among the most energetic representations of a change, which lifts man into dignity, and gives the heights and depths to his survey; and I feel therefore, that, so far as the ripening of our powers is concerned, or the moral splendor of our heritage, or the freedom of our expatiations, de- scription has well nigh exhausted itself in the announcement of the Evangelist, that the inhabitants of the new Jerusa- lem " need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the Lord God giveth them light." We would observe to you here, though we have partly anticipated the statement, that the expression, " the Lord God giveth them light," seems to indicate that our future state, like our present, will be progressive : there is to be a continued communication of light, or of knowledge, so that the as- sertion of Solomon, " The path of the just is as the shining light that shineth more and more unto the perfect day," maybe as true hereafter as here. This might be gathered from what has been advanced under our first head of dis- course, but it deserves to be more ex- plicitly asserted. Whatever may be the attainments of the just man whilst on earth, he sees onlj^ according to the words already quoted, " through a glass, darkly." How much of what he acknowledges as truth is profoundly mysterious! what difficulties throng great portions of Scripture ! how dark the dispensations of Providence ! what subject for implicit faith in the work- ings of God's moral government ! Wit St. Paul he is often forced to exclai when musing on the Almighty and hi dealings, " how unsearchable are hi judgments, and his ways past findin out." But he has yet to pass into scene of greater light, and to read, i the opened volume of God's purpose the explanation of difficulties, the wisj dom of appointments, the nice proporj tions of truth. And assuredly do wi believe that then shall there break o him mighty and ever-amplifying viev of all that is august in the nature God, and wonderful in his works. The shall the divine attributes rise befo him, unsearchable indeed and unlimi ed, but ever discovering more of thei; stupendousness, their beauty, thei harmony. Then shall the mystic fl' gures of prophecy, which here have crossed his path only as the shadows of far-off events, take each its place in accomplished plans, schemed and will- ed by the everlasting mina. Then shall redemption throw open before him its untravelled amplitude, and allow of his tracing those unnumbered ramifica- tions which the cross, erected on this globe, may possibly be sending to all the outskirts of immensity. Then shall the several occurrences of his life, the dark things and the bright which che- quered his path, appear equally neces- sary, equally merciful; and doubt give place to adoring reverence, as the pro- blem is cleared up of oppressed righ- teousness and successful villany. But it shall not be instantaneous, this reap- ing down the vast harvest of know- ledge, this ingathering of what we may call the sheaves of light, seeing that " light," according to the Psalmist, " is sown for the righteous." It must continue whilst being continues: for if the mysteries of time were exhaust- ed, and redemption presented no un- explored district, God would remain infinite as at the first, as sublime in his HEAVKN. 399 inscrutableness as though ages had not been given to the searching out his wonders. It is said by St. Paul of the love of Christ, and, if of the love, then necessarily also of him whose love it is, that it ''passeth knowledge." But if never to be overtaken, it shall always be pursued ; and we gather from the expression of our text, an expression which clearly marks progressiveness, that the just man will continually be admitted to richer and richer discove- ries of God and of Christ, so that eter- nity will be spent in journeying through that temple, which we have already de- scribed as the Almighty himself, from whose innermost shrine, though always inapproachable, shall flash, as he ad- vances, the deeper and deeper efful- gence of Deity. Ay, and if knowledge be thus progressive, so also shall love be, and so also happiness. In giving light, the sun gives also heat. It cannot be that the just man should thus travel . into the perfections of his Creator and Redeemer, and not admire more, and adore more, and bound with a greater ecstasy. As fast as obscure things are illuminated, and difficult made intelli- , gible, and contradictory reconciled, ; and magnificent unfolded, there will be a fresh falling down before the throne, a fresh ascription of praise, a fresh burst of rapture. The voice which is to be from the first " as the voice of many Avaters, and as the voice of a great thunder," shall grow louder and louder — each manifestation of Deity adding a new wave to the many wa- ters, a new peal to the great thunder. The anthem which is to ascribe wor- thiness for ever and ever to the Lamb, though always rushing as a torrent of melody, seeing that it is to issue from " ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands :" — what an or- chestra ! who would not hear, who would not swell the roll of this musici — shall not be always of equal strength ; for as the Lamb discloses to his church more and more of his amazing achieve- ment, and opensnew tracts of the conse- quences of the atonement, and exhibits, under more endearing and overcoming ispects, the love which moved him, ind the sorrows which beset him, and the triumphs which attended him ; we relieve that the hearts of the redeemed ivill beat with a higher pulse of devo- tion, and their harps be swept with a bolder hand, ;and their tongues send forth a mightier chorus. Thus will the just proceed from strength to strength; knowledge, and love, and holiness, and joy, being always on the increase; and eternity one glorious morning, with the sun ever climbing higher and high- er; one blessed spring-time, and yet rich summer, every plant in full flow- er, but every flower the bud of a love- lier. Ah, my brethren, you will tell' us that we are but " darkening counsel by the multitude of words ;" that we are in fact only reiterating the same state- ments ; and that, in place of describing heaven, we still leave it to be describ- ed. We plead guilty to the charge : in our eagerness to convey to you some idea of heaven, it is likely that we have fallen into repetitions ; and we have too lofty thoughts of the future to sup- pose for an instant that our descrip- tions could be adequate. But pause for a moment: our great object in attempt- ing description is to animate you to the seeking possession : admit then that description is at fault, and we may yet urge you by the indescribableness of heaven. Yes, by the indescribable- ness of heaven. What had St. Paul to say, when he returned from the third heaven, into which he had been mys- teriously translated ? Nothing, abso- lutely nothing : " he heard unspeakable words, which it is not lawful, or not possible, for a man to utter." And are you disappointed that the great Apos- tle has nothing to communicate] Ho gives you the most animating descrip- tion, in assuring you that heaven is not to be described. It would be but a poor heaven which such beings as ourselves could comprehend or anticipate. Give me the majestic cloud, the oracular veil, the mighty shadows which recede as we advance, filling the mind with amazement, but forbidding us to ap- proach and examine what they are. I wish to be defeated in every eflort to understand futurity. I wish, when I have climbed to the highest pinnacle to which thought can soar, to be com- pelled to confess that I have not yet reached the base of the everlasting hills. There is something surpassingly glorious in this baflling of the imagi- nation. It is vain that I task myself to 400 HEAVEN. conceive of heaven, but it is a noble truth that it is vain. That heaven is inconceivable, is the most august, the most elevating discovery. It tells me that I have not yet the power for en- joying heaven : but this is only to tell me, that the beholding God " face to face," the being " for ever with the Lord," requires the exaltation of my nature ; and I triumph in the assurance that what is reserved for me, presup- poses my vast advancement in the scale of creation. If we would have sublime notions of a glorified man, of the sta- tion which he occupies, of the facul- ties which he possesses, they must be the notions which are gained by inef- fectual efforts to represent and deline- ate : the splendor which dazzles so that we cannot look, the immenseness which we cannot grasp, the energies for which there are no terms in human speech, these give our best images of heaven. If I dare rate one portion of Scripture above another, I prefer the record of the vision of St. Paul to that of the vi- sions of St. John. Wonderful indeed were the manifestations vouchsafed to the exile in Patmos, The spirit of the coldest must glow as the beloved dis- ciple delineates what he saw^ the tree of life, the crystal river, the white- robed multitude, the glittering city. But the attempt to describe seems to assume the possibility of description: and to prove to me that heaven might be described, would be to prove to me that its glory was not transcendent, its felicity not unbounded. And therefore I am more moved by the silence of St. Paul than by the poetry of St. John. The truth is, that St. Paul was more favored than St. John. St. John re- mained on earth : he was not caught lip into paradise : and the gorgeous trains which swept by him in his ec- stasy or trance, were so constructed and clothed as to be adapted to a hu- man comprehension. But St. Paul saw the reality of heaven, not in figure, not in type, but heaven as it actually'' is, heaven as it will appear to the righte- ous, when admitted to behold " the King in his beauty." And hence it is not strange that St. Paul must be si- lent, though St. John had marvel upon marvel to relate. I turn from the one to the other: and though fascinated by the spectacle of a city whose " foun- dations were garnished with all man- ner of precious stones," Avhere pain never enters, and whose temple is the Lord God Almighty, I learn more, and I grow more hopeful, and I am more thronged by the glories of the future, when I find St. Paul declaring that he had heard unspeakable words. '' The things which God hath prepared for them that love him," are things which the eye hath not seen, nor the ear heard, nor the human heart conceived : but faith and hope may both be strength- ened by this very impossibility of our forming just ideas of heaven : it is the loftiness of the mountain vvhich causes it to be lost in the clouds : we may therefore animate ourselves by the thought, that thought itself cannot measure our everlasting portion, and hS all the more cheered when we find that even description gives no distinct picture, but that we plunge into dark- ; ness when striving to penetrate all the i meaning of the sayings, " There shall be no night there, and they need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the Lord God giveth them light." But there is yet a clause of the text to which we have given no attention, though it suggests as noble thoughts as any of the preceding, in reference to our everlasting state. "And they shall reign for ever and ever" — " they shall be kings for ever and ever." Wonder- ful assertion ! wonderful, because made of beings apparently insignificant, be- ings of whom the Psalmist, after sur- veying the magnificence of the hea- vens, was forced to exclaim, " Lord, what is man, that thou art mindful ol himl or the son of man, that thou vi- sitest him 1" Yes, of us, who are by nature " children of wrath," of us, who are "born to trouble as the sparks fly upwards," even of us is it said, " They shall be kings for ever and ever." And you are aware that this is not a solita- ry expression, but that the ascription of regal power to the saints is common in Scripture, and especially in the bpok of Revelation. Our Lord himself pro- mised to his apostles, that, " in the re- ffeneration" they should "sit on twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes oi Israel." "If we suffer with him," ex- claims St. Paul, in reference to the Eedeemer, "we shall also reign wita him." St. John ascribes glory and do- HEAVEN. 401 minion " unto Hlni that loved us, and washed as from our sins in his own blood, and hath made us kings and priests unto God and his Father." And the famous prophecy of the first resurrection will naturally occur to you, in which it is declared of the witnesses for tlie Mediator, that " they ' lived and reigned with Christ a thou- sand years." Undoubtedly this last prediction, however interpreted, must have reference to the period of the millennium, during which Christ is to take visibly on himself the sovereignty of the earth, having erected his throne on the wreck of all human empire. What oifices the [saints are to have throughout this millennial reign we pretend not to conjecture, much less ' to decide. Suffice it that they are evi- dently to participate the triumph of their Lord, and perhaps to have sway under him, one over ten cities, another ! over five, according to the number and improvement of their talents. But it is not to the millennium that our text re- fers^: we have already said that it re- lates to what will succeed the general judgment, and, therefore, to that con- dition of the redeemed which will be [final and permanent. ! And on what thrones shall we sit in ;heaven 1 over whom shall we be in- ivested with dominion ] Let it be re- ;membered that the mediatorial king- dom will have terminated. The Son himself having become " subject to Him that put all things under Him." ,We cannot therefore retain any such sway as the saints may be supposed to 'bave possessed throughout the mil- 'lennium : the whole economy will be iuhanged ; God himself will be "all in nil;" and the affairs of the universe will no longer be transacted through I phrist in his glorified humanity. And, ' aevertheless, " they shall reign, they ;5hall be kings, for ever and ever." They shall reign, whilst they serve jrod ; they shall be kings, whilst they 11^ subjects. We know not whether his may be intended to denote that he saints shall have authority, or prin- ipality, over other orders of being. It lay be so. I have the highest possible houghts in regard of the future digni- y of man. I believe not that he will e second to any but God. I would ot change his place, I would not bar- ter his crown, for that of the noblest, the first, amongst the angels of heaven. For no nature has been brought into so intimate a relation to the divine as the human : God has become man, and man therefore, we believe, must stand nearest to God. It may then be, see- ing that, beyond question, there will be order through eternity, a gradation of ranks, a distribution of authority, that the saints will be as princes in the kingdom of God; that through them will the Almighty be pleased to carry on much of his government ; and that angels, who are "ministering spirits" to them during their moments of pro- bation, will attend them as their mes- sengers during their ages of triumph. " Know ye not," asks St. Paul of the Corinthians, " that we shall judge an- gels 1" and if we are to sit in assize on the evil angels, it may be that we shall be invested with royalty over the good. But let this pass : if not over angels, I can yet see much over which, if I gain entrance into heaven, I shall " reign for ever and ever." I connect the differ- ent parts of the verse ; and I read in its last clause, only differently expressed, the same promise, or prophecy, whicii I find in all the rest. I shall reign over the secrets of nature : all the work- manship of God shall be subject to me, opening to me its recesses, and admit- ting me into its marvels. I shall reign over the secrets of Providence ; my empire shall gather back the past, and anticipate the future ; and all the deal- I ings of my Maker shall range them- selves in perfect harmony before my view. I shall reign over the secrets of grace ; the mediatorial work shall be as a province subject to my rule, con- taining no spot in all its spreadings which! may not explore. I shall reign over myself: I shall be thorough mas- ter of myself: no unruly desires, no undisciplined affections: I shall not be, what an earthly king often is, his own base slave : no war between the flesh and the spirit, no rebellion of the will, no struggle of corrupt inclinations; but with all that true royalty, the royalty of perfect holiness, I shall serve God without wavering, and find his service to be sovereignty. Glorious empire! what can animate us, if a prospect such as this move us 51 402 HEAVEN. not to the "laying aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us 1" Nevertheless, let us see to it that we do not conclude ourselves on the high road to the celestial city, just be- cause we have some tastes and feelings to which we expect to find there the counterpart objects. We must warn you against mistaking an intellectual for a spiritual longing, the wish to en- ter heaven because there " we shall know even as we are known," for the wish to enter it because God himself will there be '^ all iij all." I am sure that many a man, in whose heart is no love of the Creator and Redeemer, might pant for a state in which he shall no longer see darkly through a glass, but have full sway over universal truth. The mind may struggle for emancipa- tion, and crave a broader field, whilst the soul is the bondslave of Satan, and has no wish to throw away her chains. Ay, it is just as easy to dress up an in- tellectual paradise as a carnal, and to desire the one, as well as the other, without acquiring any meetness "for the inheritance of the saints in light." The heaven of the mohammedan is full of all that can gratify the senses, and pamper the appetites. The heaven of the philosopher may be a scene in which mind is to reach all its vigor, and sci- ence all its majesty. But neither is the heaven of the christian. The heaven for which the christian longs, is the place in which God himself shall be his " strength, and his portion for ever." The knowledge, whose increase he ar- dently wishes, is knowledge of him who made him, and of him who redeemed him : for already hath he felt that " this is life eternal, to know thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent." He may indeed exult in the thought that hard things are to be explained, and dark illuminated ; but only that he may find fresh cause for praising, admiring, and adoring God. He may rejoice in the assurance that a flood of splendid light will be poured alike over creation and redemption : but his great motive to exultation is, that he can say with David to his God, " in thy light shall we see light," so that the irradiation will be from Deity, and that which makes visible be that upon which all his affections are fast- ened. And you are to try yourselves by this test. You are to ask yourselves whether you desire heaven because God is there, because Christ is there j whether, in short, God and Christ would be to you heaven, if there were none but these to be beheld, none but these to be enjoyed. Unless you can answer such questions in the affirmative, you may be longing for heaven, because it is a place of repose, because departed kinsfolk are there, or because man shall there be loftily endowed; but you have none of that desire which proves a ti- tle to possession. We do not say that such reasons are to have no weight: our discourse has been mainly occu- pied on the setting them forth. But they are to be only secondary and sub-j ordinate: they are not to be upper- most : our prime idea of heaven should be, that it is the place where God dwells, and of its happiness, that God is "all in all." But having delivered these cautions, we may again exclaim, Glorious em-i pire, which is promised us by God! We said, in the commencement of our discourse, that we would utter no re- proaches, no threatenings, but would! dwell exclusively on the hopes andl privileges of christians. And we are not now about to break this resolution: unless indeed it be to break it, to ex- press great v»^onder, and bitter regret, that, when men might be heirs of a world in which there is no night, of which the Lord God himself is the sun, and where there are to be glorious thrones for those faithful unto death, they give their time and thought to thei acquiring some perishable good, and| live, for the'most part, as though they .had never heard of judgment and eter-f nity. On other occasions, we often strive to move the careless amongst you by " the terrors of the Lord ;" we warn them, by falling stars, and a moon " turned into blood," and a sun " black as sackcloth of hair," that they persist not in unrighteousness. And even now we gather our incentives from a strip- ped firmament and extinguished lumi- naries. We still preach to the worldly- minded through planets which have started from their courses, and a sun which has ceased to give light. Andj nevertheless, it is not by a darkened, it is by a brilliantly irradiated sky, thnt we summon them to repentance "" 1^ The GOD 3 WAY IN THK SANCTUART. 403 bright world of which we have spoken, it may be yours. It hath been thrown open to you by that " High Priest of our profession," who entered " by his own blood," and took possession for himself and his followers. There is not one of us Avho may not, if he will, secure himself a throne in this everlasting kingdom. " Yet there is room." Myri- ads have pressed in, myriads are press- ing in, but '* yet there is room." Alas, what account will have to be given at the judgment, if any of us be doomed to outer darkness, in place of passing into a world where there shall be no night 1 What but that we wilfully closed our eyes against '' the light of the glo- rious Gospel," not wishing to be made aware of our danger and corruption! what but that " men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evill" SERMON XII. GOD'S WAY IN THE SANCTUARY "' Thy way, O God, is in the sanctuary : who is so great a God as our God V — Psahn 77 : 13. It may be doubtful whether, in speak- jing of God's way as " in the sanctua- ry," the Psalmist designed to express inore than that God's way is " in holi- ness." We mean that it does not seem ;ertain from the original, that he in- ended to make any such reference to he Jewish temple, to the holy place, iir the holy of holies, as you observe n our translation. Bishop Horsley's (ersion is, " God, in holiness is thy i/ay : what God is great like our God 1" i'here does not however appear to be ny positive objection against the com- [ion rendering. In the 63d Psalm, com- :osed whilst David was in the wilder- ess, and therefore excluded from the ublic ordinances of religion, you find le words, " my soul thirsteth for thee, f> see thy power and thy glory, so as 'have seen thee in the sanctuary." ere it seems almost required, by the rcumstances under which the psalm |»pears to have been written, that we '.ould adopt the translation, "in the actuary." At least, there is an appo- •eness in this translation which there not in any other; for the Psalmist was undoubtedly longing for those re- ligious privileges from which he was debarred, privileges only to be enjoy- ed in the temple, or tabernacle, at Je- rusalem, and of which he had there of- ten and thankfully partaken. But the original is the same as in our text : we may suppose, therefore, that our trans- lators were not without warrant when they represented the psalmist as say- ing, " Thy way is in the sanctuary," and not " Thy way is in holiness." We own that we should be sorry to have to give up the common transla- tion, and adopt the other which we have mentioned. There are, we think, trains of very interesting and instruc- tive thought opened by the statement that God's way is " in the sanctuary," along which we should not be led by considering only that God's way is " in holiness." At the same time it should be observed that whatever truth is pre- sented by the latter version is included in the former, so that we can run no risk of missing the meaning of the pas- sage by adopting the more ample ren- dering. We wish you further to re» H. 404 SOD S WAY IN THE SANCTUARY. mark, that the triumphant question with which our text concludes, is undoubt- edly suggested, or warranted, by the previous statement in regard of God's way. The fact that God's way is " in the sanctuary," or "in holiness," forms evidently the argument for that great- ness of God, that superiority of Jeho- vah to every false deity, which the con- sequent challenge so boldly asserts. And without at all questioning that the fact of God's way being " in holiness" would well bear out the challenge, we shall perhaps see, in the sequel, that yet stronger proofs of greatness are furnished by the fact of his way being "in the sanctuary:" if so, these rea- sons will themselves go to the vindi- cating the version which we are anx- ious to retain. Now it would not have been right that we should have proceeded at once to discourse to you on the common translation, without premising these few critical remarks. It is very easy to lay a stress on passages of Scrip- ture, or to assign them a meaning, which, at first sight, may seem just, but which, on closer examination, they will be found not to bear. And he who may endeavor to interpret the Bible is required to be very honest, frankly avowing the objections which may lie against his statements ; and whereso- ever there may be doubt as to the pre- cise sense of the author, not presum- ing to speak with any thing like cer- tainty. We have therefore candidly shown you that there is variety of opin- ion as to whether there be any refer- ence in our text to the sanctuary or temple. But we have also shown you grounds on which we seem warranted in assuming that there is such a refer- ence : and we may now proceed to dis- course on this assumption, without fear of being charged with attaching undue weight to a doubtful expression. Now the psalm, in which our text occurs, describes great alternations of mind, the author appearing at one time almost in despair, and then again ga- thering confidence from the attributes of God. Beset with difliculties and dan- gers, he was tempted to think himself abandoned by God, so that he patheti- cally exclaims, " Will the Lord cast off for ever, and will he be favorable no more 1" He soon however rejects with abhorrence a thought so dishonoring to God, and ascribes his entertaining it to spiritual weakness and disease. " And I said. This is my infirmity : but I will remember the years of the right hand of the Most High." He calls to mind what deliverances God had wrought for his people, and concludes that they were pledges of future assis- tance. " I will remember the works of the Lord; surely I will remember thy wonders of old." And hence he is en- couraged : he feels that God's ways maybe mysterious, but that they must be good ; and that it was therefore as much his privilege as his duty to " wait patiently" upon him. This appears to be the feeling which he expresses in our text : he has taken the retrospect of God's dealings, and now announces in one sentence their general charac- ter, a character which displays the surpassing greatness of their author. There is no reason, then, why we should make a confined application of our text : we learn, from examining the context, that the works and won- ders of the Lord suggest to the Psalm- ist his description of God's way, and we may therefore regard that descrip- tion as applying in general to all the dealings of our Maker. We have now, then, a clear subject of discourse, a general description of the ways or dealings of God, and that description furnishing evidence of God's unequalled greatness. Let it be our endeavor to establish and illustrate both the description and the evidence; in other words, let us strive to show you, in successive instances, how true it is that God's way " is in the sanctu- ary," and what cause there is in each for exclaiming, " Who is so great a God as our God 1" Now we would first observe that there was a peculiar force to a Jew in this reference to the sanctuary, and in the consequent challenge as to the greatness of God. Under the legal dis- pensation, every divine dealing was closely connected with the temple: in the temple were the manifestations of Deity, tile signs and notices of mercies with which future days were charged. There, and there only, could God be solemnly worshipped ; there, and there only, might expiatory sacrifices be of- fered ; there, and there only, were in- god's WAT IN THE SANCTUARY. 405 timations of the Divine will to besought or obtained. In the holy of holies, on the nnercy-seat, overshadowed by the wings of cherubim, dwelt the perpetual token of the presence of the invisible Creator ; and the breast-plate of the high priest, glowing with mystic and oracular jewelry, gave forth, in the so- litudes of the tabernacle, the messages of Jehovah. Wonderful dispensation! beneath which, in spite of all its dark- ness, there were burning traces of the "goings forth" of God, and in spite of its shadowy and imperfect character, there were direct and open communications with Him "that inhabiteth eternity." But of all its wonders the temple might be declared the centre or seat ; for seeing that God designed, in the fulness of time, to gather all things in- to his Son, and to set him forth as the •alone source or channel of blessing, therefore did he make the temple, which typified that Son, the home of all his operations, the focus into which were condensed, and from which di- verged, the various rays of his attri- butes and dealings. And this suggests I to us the speaking for a few moments on a point of great importance, the consistency of the several parts of re- velation. We take the Bible into our ;hands, and examine diligently its dif- iferent sections, delivered in different ;ages to mankind. There is a mighty growth in the discoveries of God's na- ture and will, as time rolls on from cre- ation to redemption ; but as knowledge is increased, and brighter light thrown on the divine purposes and dealings, there is never the point at which we are brought to a pause by the manifest contradiction of one part to another. It is the wonderful property of the Bi- ble, though its authorshipr is spread ;Over a long line of centuries, that it ne- ver withdraws any truth once advan- ced, and never adds new without giv- ing fresh force to the old. In reading the Bible, we always look, as it were, on the same landscape : the only dif- ference being, as we take in more and more of its statements, that more and more of the mist is rolled away from the horizon, so that the eye includes a broader sweep of beauty. If we hold converse Avith patriarchs occupying he earth whilst yet in its infancy, and ■hen listen to Moses as he legislates for Israel, to prophets throwing open the future, and to apostles as they pub- lish the mysteries of a new dispensa- tion, we find the discourse always bear- ing, with more or less distinctness, on one and the same subject : the latter speakers, if we may use such illustra- tion, turn towards us a larger portion than the former of the illuminated he- misphere ; but, as the mighty globe re- volves on its axis, we feel that the oceans and lands, which come succes- sively into view, are but constituent parts of the same glorious world. There is the discovery of new territo- ries ; but, as fast as discovered, the territories combine to make up one planet. There is the announcement of new truths; but, as fast as announced, they take their places as parts of one immutable system. Indeed there is vast difference between the Epistles of St. Paul, and the Psalms of David, or the prophecies of Isaiah. But it is the dif- ference, as we have just said, between the landscape whilst the morning mist yet rests on half its villages and lakes, and that same range of scenery when the noontide irradiates every spire and every rivulet. It is the difference be- tween the moon, as she turns towards us only a thin crescent of her illumina- ted disk, and when, in the fulness of her beauty, she walks our firmament, and scatters our night. It is no new landscape which opens on our gaze, as the town and forest emerge from the shadow, and fill up the blanks in the noble panorama. It is no new planet which comes travelling in its majesty, as the crescent swells into the circle, and the faint thread of light gives place to the rich globe of silver. And it is no fresh system of religion which is made known to the dwellers in this creation, as the brief notices given to patriarchs expand in the institutions of the law, and under the breathings of prophecy, till at length, in the days of Christ and his apostles, they burst into magnificence, and fill a world with re- demption. It is throughout the same system, a system for the rescue of hu- mankind by the interference of a sure- ty. And revelation has been nothing else but the gradual developement of this system, the drawing up another fold of the vail from the landscape, the adding another stripe of light to the 405 GOD S WAY IN THE SANCTUAET. crescent, so that the early fathers of our race, and ourselves on whom " the ends of the world are come," look on the same arrangement for human deli- verance, though to them there was nothing but a clouded expanse, with here and there a prominent landmark ; whilst to us, though the horizon loses itself in the far-off eternity, every ob- ject of personal interest is exhibited in beauty and distinctness. But if we may affirm this thorough consistency of the several parts of Re- velation, we may speak of the Jewish temple, with all its solemnities and ce- remonies, as a focus for the rays of the divine attributes and dealings; seeing that into its services must have been mystically gathered the grand truths and facts which have been successive- ly developed, or which have yet to be disclosed. And who shall tell us the emotions with which a devout Jew must have regarded the temple, that temple towards which, if he chanced to be a wanderer in a foreign land, he was bidden to turn, whensoever he sought in prayer the God of his fathers, as though he must imagine himself ca- nopied by its lofty architecture, before he could gain audience of his Maker 1 If he had sinned, he must go up to the temple, that there his guilt might be expiated by the blood of slain beasts. If he had become ceremonially defiled, he must go up to the temple, that there, through certain figurative rites, he might be restored into fellowship with God's people. If he had mercies to acknowledge, he must go up to the temple, that he might there express his gratitude in eucharistical offerings. If he needed, in some extraordinary cri- sis, direction from above, he must go up to the temple, that there the priest might divine for him, by the urim and thummim, the course which it was God's will that he should take. With what deep feeling, therefore, must he have confessed, '' Thy way, O God, is in the sanctuary. And would he not, moreover, as he mused on this fact, be led to the acknowledging and admiring the greatness of the Lord 1 We do not know, that, at anytime, or under any cir- cumstances, God has vouchsafed more striking proofs of his greatness, than whilst he governed Israel from the ta- bernacle as his throne. There was something so sublime in the whole sys- tem of a theocracy ; the interferences of an invisible King were so awful, be- cause, whilst the sceptre was swayed, there was apparently no hand to hold it ; the sanctities of the ark, with its symbolical riches, were so consuming and so conquering, thousands perish- ing through a rash glance, and idols falling prostrate ; that never perhaps did the Almighty give such tokens of his supremacy, as whilst, without the intervention of any chief magistrate, he guided and ruled the twelve tribes. And even when the affairs of the Is- raelites were administered in a more or- dinary way — as was the case when our text was composed, there being then a king in Jerusalem — we may well speak of the greatness of God as singularly exhibited through all the ordinances of religion. It is here that we have, need of what has been advanced on the consistency of revelation. How great was God in all those types and emblems which figured prophetically the mysteries of redemption. How great in arranging a complicated sys- tem, whose august ceremonies, and pompous rites, might serve the pur- pose of keeping a fickle people from being seduced by the splendid super- stitions of the heathen; and neverthe- less foreshow, in their minutest parti- culars, the simple, beautiful facts of a religion, whose temple was to be the whole world, and whose shrine every human heart. How great in preserving a knowledge of himself, whilst dark- ness, gross darkness, covered the na- tions; and in carrying on the promise and hope of a Messiah, through age after age of almost universal aposta- cy. How great in ordaining sacrifices which, in all their varieties, represent- ed one and the same victim; in com- manding observances so numerous and multiform that they can hardly be re- counted, but which, in every tittle, had respect to the same deliverer ;' in ga- thering all that was distant into each day, and each hour, of an introductory dispensation, crowding the scene with a thousand different shadows, but all formed by light thrown on one and the same substance. And all these demon- strations, or exhibitions, of greatness, were furnished from the sanctuary: the temple was God's palace, if you I ns 1 '.'M GOD S WAY IN THE SANCTUART. 407 view him as king over Israel ; and within its sacred precincts those ce- lebrations took place, and those rites were performed, which announced a Redeemer, and in some sense antici- pated his coming. Then well indeed might the Jew, who thought on God's way as " in the sanctuary," break into a confession of the greatness of God. We know not precisely the time when the psalm, in which our text occurs, was composed ; whether after the building of the temple, or whilst "the ark of the covenant of the Lord re- mained under curtains." But suppose that Solomon had already reared his magnificent pile, it would not have been the grandeur of the house "of the Lord which would have filled the de- vout Jew with wonder and exultation. As he gazed on the stupendous struc- ture, it would not have been because it outdid every other in beauty and majesty, that his heart would have • swelled with lofty emotions. He would have venerated the edifice, because it was as the council-chamber in which Deity arranged his plans, and the stage I on which he wrought them gradually i out for the benefit of the world. As ; he entered its courts, he would have seemed to himself to enter the very place where all those mighty affairs • were being transacted, which were to terminate, in some far-off season, in the emancipation of the earth from wick- edness and wretchedness. On every altar he would have seen a Redeemer already offered up: in every cloud of incense he would have marked the as- cendings of acceptable prayer through |a Mediator: in the blast of every trum- pet he would have heard God marshal- iling his armies for the final overthrow ;of Satan. And the feeling of his soul (must have been, " Thy way, God, is in the sanctuary." Thy way — I can- aot trace it on the firmament, studded iLhough it be with thy works. I cannot |;race it on the earth, though thou art '[.here in a thousand operations, all liloquent, and all worthy, of thyself. I ' kearch creation, but cannot find the lines of thy way, along which thou art )assing to the fulfilment of thine an- ■ient promises. But here is thy way, lere in thy sanctuary. Every stone eems wrought into the pavement of (hat way : every altar is as a pillar which shows its course : every sound is as the sound of thy footstep, as thou goest forward in thine awfulness. And in this, yea, in this, thou art amazing. I should have marvelled at thee less, had thine advancings towards the con- summation of thy plan been audible through the universe, than now that within these walls thou hast space enough for the march of a purpose in which the universe has interest. Won- derful in that, through what goes on in this house builded with hands, thou art approximating to a glorious result, the overthrow of evil, and its extermi- nation from thine empire — yea, more wonderful, for it more shows thee in- dependent even on the instruments which thou dost usef than if thou hadst taken unnumbered worlds for thy scene of operation, passing in thy majesty from one to another, and causing each to be a beacon on the track of redemp- tion. And therefore, oh, what can I do, after feeling and confessing that " thy way, God, is in the sanctuary," but break into a challenge, a challenge to angels above, and to men below, " who is so great a God as our God 1" But we would now observe, that, by the sanctuary, we may probably under- stand the holy of holies: for it was in that veiled and mysterious recess that the Shekinah shone, the visible token of the Almighty's presence. However true it be that God's way was in the temple, understanding by the temple the whole structure that was set apart to sacred uses, it was yet more empha- tically true that this way was in the sanctuary, understanding by the sanc- tuary that part within the veil, into which none but the high priest was al- lowed to enter, and tiiat but once in the year, when he entered as a type of the Mediator who, having shed his blood as a sacrifice, carried it into heaven to present it as an intercessor. It may not have been altogether to the temple services, to the ceremonies and sacrifices appointed by the law, that the Psalmist referred : it may rather have been to the awfulness, the sanctity, the privacy of that spot where the Al- mighty might be said to have conde- scended to take up his abode. In say- ing that God's way was "in the sanc- tuary," he may liave designed to as- sert the impenetrable obscurity in 408 cod's WAT IK THE SANCTUAET. which the divine proceedings were shrouded, and at the same time the inviolable holiness by which they were distinguished ; and then the concluding question will indicate that this obscu- rity, and this holiness, were arguments or evidences of the greatness of God. And it will not be difficult to trace the connection between the several parts of our text, if you consider the sanctu- ary as thus put for the qualities or pro- perties which were specially pointed out by the holy of holies. You are to remember that the sanctuary was a place into which no Israelite but the high priest might ever dare to enter, and the attempting |to enter which would have been an act of the worst sacrilege, certain» to be followed by instant and fearful vengeance. What concealment then was there about this sanctuary, and at the same time what purity ! He who thought on the holy of holies thought on a solitude which was inaccessible to him, though close at hand: inaccessible, even as the re- motest depth of infinite space, though a single step might have taken him in- to its midst ; but, at the same time, a solitude where, as he well knew, every thing breathed holiness, every thing glowed with the lustre of that Being who is of purer eyes than to look upon iniquity. And to say of God that his way was in this sanctuary, what was it but to say that God works in an im- penetrable secrecy, but that, neverthe- less, in that secrecy he orders every thing in righteousness? These are facts with which we ought to be familiar, and in regard of which we should strive to keep our faith firm. We maj^ not hope to understand the dealings of the Lord : nay, we must be content not to under- stand them : we must not attempt to lift, with presumptuous hand, the veil which conceals the place in which they origi- nate. It is behind that curtain, to pass which is to perish, that the Almighty ar- ranges his purposes, and appoints means for their consummation ; and though we may know something of these purpo- ses, as they appear without the curtain in their progress towards completion, they are hidden from us in their springs, and must often therefore be quite in- comprehensible. But what of thisl The sublime se- I crecy in which God dwells, and in ' which he works, is among the signa tokens of his greatness. In nothinj does the Supreme Being more demaw our admiration than in those proper ties which caused an apostle to ex- claim, " How unsearchable are his judg- ments, and his ways past finding out.' It is a proof of his mercy towards us,^ and a source of vast honor to himself^ that he hides himself in clouds, am throws around his goings an awful ob scurity. There is something singular! noble in that saying of Solomon, in th book of Proverbs, "It is the glory o God to conceal a thing." It is his glo ry, not to make his every dealing lu minous, so that his creatures migh read \vithout difficulty its design, an< admit without an act of faith its excel lence ; but to involve his proceeding, in so much of darkness, that ther shall be a constant demand on the su" missiveness and trust of those who they concern. It is his glory, ina much as he thus takes the most effec-: tual mode of preserving a spirit of de pendence on himself, in beings who ar< prone to forget a first cause, and to as- cribe to some second whatsoever the; fancy they can trace to an origin. An very wonderful does God appear, whe thus represented as seated in some in approachable" solitude, veiled from al finite intelligence, and there regulatii^ the countless springs, and putting i| motion the countless wheels which arc to produce appointed results through-, out immensity. It is not that he | associated with myriads of wise an ever-active beings, with whom he may consult, and by whom he may be as- sisted, in reference to the multitudin- ous transactions of every day and eve- ry moment. His way " is in the sanc- tuary." He is alone, majestically, om- nipotently alone. The vast laboratories of nature, he presides over them him- self. The operations of providence, they all originate with himself. The work ings of grace, they confess his immedi- ate authorship. My brethren, this is Goo in his sublimity. God in his stupendous ness. Let us take heed that we attempt not to penetrate his solitudes : let it com, tent us to worship before the veil, and toj know that he is working behind it: why rashly endeavor to cross the threshold of the holy of holies, when " it is the glory of God to conceal a thing V^ _ GUD'S ^\AY in! Tili; SAACTUAIi'j iOi) ' And certainly it is not the obscurity which there may be round the ways of the Lord which should induce a suspi- cion that those ways are not righteous. If God work in a place of secrecy, we know that it is equally a place of sanctity : we can be sure, therefore, of whatsoever comes forth from that place, that, if involved in clouds, it is invest- ed with equity. We may not be able to discover God's reasons : but we can be certain from his attributes, attributes which shine through the vail, though that vail be impenetrable, that we should approve them if discovered. And if it be an evidence of the great- ness of God, that his way is hidden, we scarcely need say that it is a further evidence of this greatness, that his way is holy. That," although he have to deal with a polluted world, with creatures by nature "dead in trespas- ses and sins," he contracts no impu- ritj-, but keeps travelling, as it were, " in the sanctuary," even whilst mov- ing to and fro amid those who have defiled themselves and their dwelling- place — what is this but proof that he is immeasurably separated by difler- ence of nature, from all finite being; j that he is verily " the high and holy ! One that inhabiteth eternity," the high I because the holy, and equally the holy [because the high'? Indeed, whilst there lis every thing to comfort us, there [is every thing also to give us lofty jthoughts of God, in the fact that God's way " is in the sanctuary." '■'In the [sanctuary:" I may not enter, I may not think to penetrate. But how great must be the Being who thus, withdrawn from all scrutiny, always in a solitude, though encompassed with ten thousand times ten 'thousand waiting spirits, or- ders every event, directs every agent, consummates every purpose. " In the sanctuary :" where every thing is of a purity that dazzles even the imagina- i [tion, on whose emblematic furniture I [the eye may not look, as though a hu- pnan glance would dim the lustres ofi ks gold. How riofhteous must be the peing who thus hides himself in light, ; jiow just his vvays, how good his ap- j >ointments! Do ye not seem to enter! nto the feeling of the Psalmist '? are ye ; lot ready to pass with him from his ; onfession to his challenge 1 Come, '■ tlace yourselves by him, as he mny be supposed to meditate in the temple. He calls to mind the dealings of God. How much that is perplexing, hovv much that is dark, how much that is incomprehensible ! Whither shall he turn for counsel and comfort '? whence shall he draw material of assurance, that, notwithstanding all apparent in- consistencies, notwithstanding obscu- rity and intricacy, the hand of the Lord is a mighty hand, and will bring to pass whatsoever is best '? His eye is on that vail which liides from his gaze the Shekinah, and the mercy-seat, and the overshadowing cherubim. V/hat does the solitude, with its burning and beau- tiful wonders, represent ] what means this inaccessible spot, tenanted by De- ity, but forbidden to man 1 Ah, where- fore indeed doth God thus shrine him- self in the holy of holies, unless to teach us that Ave cannot look upon him in his actings, but that, neverthe- less, those actings, though necessarily inscrutable, partake the sanctity as well as the secrecy of his dwelling'? This thought may be supposed to oc- cupy the Psalmist. It strengthens, it animates him ; it should strengthen, it should animate you. The vail, whilst it hides, reveals Deity : nay, it reveals by hiding: it teaches the sublimity of God, inapproachable ; his independ- ence, none with him in his workings ; and yet his righteousness, for it is the awful purity of the place which warns back all intruders. Then there is enough to make us both discover, and rejoice in, the supremacy of our God. With a tongue of fear, for we are al- most staggered by the mysteriousness of his workings, we will confess, " Thy way, God, is in the sanctuary :" but with a tongue of triumph, for his very concealments are tokens of his Almigh.- tiness, we will give utterance to the challenge, '' Who is so great a God as our God r' But there can be no reason why wo should confine the illustrations of our text to the Jewish temple and dispen- sation. Wc may bring down the verse to our own day, understand by tho sanctuary our own chniches, and still found on the confession in the first clause the challenge which is uttered in the second. You must all be prepa- red to admit, that, under the christian, even as it was under the legal, dispea- 52 410 GOD S WAY JN THE SANCTUARY. sation, God specially works by and through the public oi'dinances of reli- gion, in converting sinners and bring- ing them into acquaintance with him- self. Perhaps indeed you may think that it could not have been to such workings as these that the Psalmist referred, when he spake of God's way as " in the sanctuary," and that we are not therefore warranted in making that use of his words which we are now about to make. But we believe that this is altogether an error, and that the Psalmist may justly be considered as speaking of the sanctuary, even as we now speak of a church, as a place of instruction where messages are to be looked for from God to the soul. The Psalmist describes himself as perplexed by the dealings of God, and then as comforted by the thought that God's way " is in the sanctuary." Now if you turn to the seventy-third psalm, bear- ing the name of the same autlior, Asaph, as is borne by that in which our text occurs, you will find a very similar de- scription of perplexity, and of comfort derived in some way from the sanctu- ary. The writer is greatly staggered by the prosperity of the wicked, and tempted to receive it as an evidence against the strictness of God's moral government. And how does he over- come the temptation 1 You shall hear what he says, " When I thought to know this, it was too painful for me ; until I went into the sanctuary of God : then understood I the end." He ob- tained, you perceive, instruction in the sanctuary, which sufficed to the remov- ing his doubts, and the restoring his confidence in the righteousness of the divine dealings. It cannot, therefore, be an unwarrantable supposition, that the reference to the sanctuarj'' in our text, is a reference to the public or- dinances of religion as instrumental to the communicating knowledge, and the strengthening faith. The Psalmist is again perplexed by much that is in- tricate in the dealings of God. But again he bethinks him of the sanctu- ary : he remembers that God's Avay "is in the sanctuary" — in otlier words, that God's method of teaching is by and through ijie ordinances of the sanctuary ; and, filled with gratitude and wonder that there should be such a channel of intercourse with the Crea- tor, he breaks into an acknowledgment of his unrivalled greatness. Hence we seem justified in transfer- ring the verse to ourselves, in regard- ing it simply as containing an argu- ment for the greatness of God, drawn from his working through the instru- mentality of sermons and sacraments. His " way is in the sanctuary." It is in buildings devoted to the purposes of his worship, and through the minis- trations of his ordained servants, that he commonly carries on his work of turning sinners from the error of their ways, and building up his people in their faith. That there may be excep- tions to such a rule as this, no one would for a moment dispute. Cases unquestionably occur in which conver- sion is efl"ected without the instrumen- tality of a sermon, or in which the soul is rapidly edified, though debarred from all public rpeans of grace. But nevertheless the general rule is, that it pleases God '' by the foolishness of preaching, to save them that believe," not only, you observe, to bring men in the first instance to belief; but to car- ry them forward in godliness till belief issues in final salvation. We magnify our office. We claim no authority whatsoever for the man : but we claim the very highest for the messenger, the ambassador. Again and again would we seize, opportunities of impressing upon you the importance of entertain- ing just views of the ministerial office. There are numbers of you, we must believe, who constantly come up to God's house with the very tempers and feelings which you would carry to a lecture-room ; with all that excited in- tellect, and all that critical spirit, whicii fit you for nothing but the 'sitting in judgment upon what shall be delivered, as upon a process of argument, or a specimen of elocution. There is prac- tically no recognition of the commis- sion which is borne by the man who addresses you, no influential persua- sion of his being an appointed messen- ger through whom you may hope that God will graciously infuse light into the understanding, and warmth into the heart: but, on the contrary, he i^^ thought to stand before you with no higher claim on your attention than what he can make good by his own mental powers, and with no greater COD S WAT IN THE SANCTTTAEY. 411 likelihood of speaking- to your profit than is furnished by his own skill as an expositor of truth. And upon this ac- count mainly it is, as we have been long painfully convinced, that there are such insufficient results from the services of God's house, that Sabbath after Sabbath passes away, and scarce leaves a token that good has been wrought. You are not in the moral at- titude which is presupposed in the ap- pointment of the preacher. You are in the attitude of critics, you are in the attitude of a jury, having to pronounce a verdict after hearing certain state- nients. But the preacher is not before you as a debater, the preacher is not before you as a pleader; and conse- quently your attitude is just the re- verse of that which ought to be assum- ed : the preacher is before you as an ambassador, and therefore ought you i to be in the attitude of mere listeners [to an overture from the God whom you have offended, of expectants of a com- Imunication from him in whose name ;the preacher addresses you. The evil [is, you do not feel that God's way " is ;in the sanctuary;" and therefore you !give too low a character both to ser- imons and sacraments, failing to view in them the appointed instrumentality through which God Avorks in convert- ing and confirming the soul. ! But, nevertheless, the fact remains, ;hat God's Avay " is in the sanctuary." And a very surprising fact it is, one [calculated to excite in us the highest thoughts of the supremacy of God. We jvish you to contrast the agency with [he result. We are always much struck vith the expression of St. Paul to Ti- mothy, "in doing this, thou shalt both i.iave thyself, and them that hear thee." ifhe preacher, who is to be an instru- Inent in the saving of others, stands in |he same need of salvation himself. In ■he great work of gathering in the na- |ions, and fixing the religion of Jesus [i the households and hearts of the hu- jian population, the Almighty makes [ot use of lofty agents who have kept Ueir first estate, but of the fallen and '^eble, who are themselves in peril, lemselves but wrestlers for immorta- 'y. It is easy to imagine a different •rangement. In his Epistle to the Ga- tians, St. Paul has supposed the case an angel from heaven discharging the office of a preacher to men. It might have been so. In place of assembling to listen to the exhortations, and re- ceive the counsels, of one who shares with you your sinfulness, and is natu- rally under the same condemnation, you might have thronged to the sanc- tuary, to hearken to a celestial messen- ger, who came down in angelic beauty, and offered you in God's name a home in the land from which he had descend- ed. And we cannot doubt that you \yould have hung with surpassing inte- rest on the lips of the heavenly speak- er; and that as, with an eloquence, and a pathos, and a persuasiveness, such as are w-holly unknown in the most touch- ing human oratory, he warned you a- gainst evil and urged you to righteous- ness, your hearts vi^ould have burned within you, and been often wrought up to a resolve of pressing towards the re- gion to which the seraph invited you. We fully believe, that, if some myste- rious visitant, unearthly in form and raiment, were to occupy this pulpit, a deep and almost painful solemnity would pervade the assembly; and that as, in tones such as were never modu- lated by human organs, and words such as never flowed from human lips, he " reasoned of righteousness, temper- ance, and judgment to come," there, would be produced on the mass of ri- veted listeners an^ effect, which might not indeed be permanent, but which, for the time, would be wholly v/ithout parallel in all that is ascribed to power- ful speaking. Neither can it be thought that an angel w^ould preach with less affection than a man, because not ex- posed to our dangers, nor linked with us by any natural ties. We know that angels watch for the repentance of sin- ners ; that, when the poorest of our race returns, like the prodigal, to his Fa- ther, a new impulse is given to their happiness; and we cannot therefore doubt, that, if any one of these glori- ous beings were to be visible amongst us, and to assume the office of teacher, he would plead with such passionate- ness and w^armth, and throw so much of heart into his remonstrance, as would leave no room for a suspicion that dif- ference in nature incapacitated him for deep sympathy with those to whom he spake. But, to pass over other and ob- vious consequences of the substitution 412 god's WAT IN THE SANCTUAET of ano-els for men as preachers of chrls- tianitj'-, it is easy to see, that, under such an arrangement, we should have been apt to lose sight of the operations of the Holy Spirit. You find St. Paul, when speaking of the Gospel as in- trusted to himself and his fellow-labor- ers in the ministry, saying to the Co- rinthians, " We have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us." He assigns it, you see, as a reason why the Gospel was committed to weak and erring men, that God might have all the glory resulting from the publi- cation. And undoubtedly the process secures this result. If God worked by mighty instruments, such as angels, if the engines employed were, to all ap- pearance, adequate to the ends to be effected; the honor of success would at least be divided, and the ambassador might be thought to have helped for- ward, by his own power, the designs of him by whom he had been sent. But, as the case now stands, the ser- vices of the sanctuary all go to the de- monstrating the supremacy of God, be- cause, whilst undoubtedly instrumen- tal to the effecting vast results, they are manifestly insufficient in them- selves for any such achievement. And we should like you to add to his, that, not only does God employ men in preference to angels, but he commonly acts through what is weak in men, and not through what is strong. It is perhaps a single sentence in a ser- mon, a text which is quoted, a remark to which probably, if asked, the preach- er would attach less importance than to any other part of his discourse, which makes its way into the soul of an un- converted hearer. We wish that there could be compiled a book which should register the sayings, the words, which, falling from the lips of preachers in different ages, have penetrated that thick coating of indifference and pre- judice which lies naturally on every man's heart, and reached the soil in which vegetation is possible. Wc are quite presuaded that you would not find many whole sermons in such a book, not many long pieces of elabo- rate reasoning, not many argumenta- tive demonstrations of human danger and human need. The volume would be a volume, we believe, of little frag- ments : it would be made up of simple sentiments and brief statements: in tiie majority of instances, a few syllables would constitute the " grain of mus- tard seed," to which Christ himself likened his religion at the outset. We are only asserting what we reckon at- tested by the whole tenor of ministe- rial experience, when we say that ser- mons which God honors to the conver- sion of hearers, are generally effective in some solitary paragraph ; and that the results which they produce may fairly be traced, not to the lengthened oration, as a compact and well-adjust- ed engine, but to one of its assertions, or its remonstrances, which possibly, had you subjected the discourse to the judgment of a critic, would have been left out as injurious, or at least not con- ducive, to the general effect. And we know of no more powerful evidence of a fixed determination on the part of God, to humble man by allowing him to be nothing but an instrument in his hands, than is derived from this fact of the ineffectiveness of all except perhaps one line in a sermon. God will often- times pass by it, as it were, and set aside an array of argument which has been constructed with great care, or a stirring appeal into which has been ga- thered every motive which seems cal- culated to rouse a dormant immortali- ty, and, seizing on the sentence which the speaker thinks the weakest, or the paragraph in which there is nothing of rhetoric, will throw it into the soul as the germ of a genuine and permanent piety. And all this goes to the making good what we are anxious to prove, that the challenge in the second clause of our text is altogether borne out by the assertion in the first. There is no finer proof of the power of an author, than that he can compass great de- signs by inconsiderable means. If the means be great, we expect a great ef- fect, and, when we find it, hardly count it an evidence of the greatness of the agent. But if the means be inconsid- erable, and the produced effect great, we are lost in admiration, and want terms in which to express our sense of the might of the worker. Let us see then how our argument stands. What result is greater than that of the renewal of human nature, the transforming into a new creature one GOD S WAY IN THE SANCTUAEr. 413 "born in sin, and shapen in iniquity V Where, iu all the compass of wonder- ful things, is a more wonderful to be found than the change effected by con- version, or the after and gradual pre- paration of man for immortality'? The being who is naturally the enemy of God, averse from holiness, with ati'ec- tions that fix exclusively on earthly tilings, is cast, as it Vv'cre, into a fresh mould, and conies forth devoted to the service of his Maker, desirous of con- formity to the image of Christ, and prepared to act on the conviction that here he has "no abiding city." He perseveres through a long series of trials and difficulties, contending with I and conquering various enemies, ac- 1 quiring in greater and greater measure ; the several graces which are charac- ; teristic of genuine faith, till at length, I fully "meet for the inheritance of the > saints in light," he enters " the valley i of the shadow of death," and presses I through it to glory. i Yes, indeed, it is a vast achievement. ; Let us compare it with the employed j instrumentality : this will surely bear ) some apparent proportion to the result. I "Thy Vv'ay, O God, is in the sanctuary." 1 We know that it is by and through ! certain public ordinances of religion ithat thou dost generally turn men to 'thyself, and afterwards strengthen them ito persevere in a heavenward course. iThen we will hasten to the sanctuarj^, I that we may observe the agency through iwhich is effected what so much moves I our wonder. Surely we shall find an .angel ministering to the people, the jbeing of a higher sphere, clothed in [Surpassing radiance, and discoursing iwitli more than mortal power on the •lofty topics of God and his dealings. jSurely, if there be sacraments, they jwill be manifestly pregnant with em;r- Igy, stupendous institutions, of which tit shall be impossible to partake with- 'out feeling them the vehicles for com- imunications of grace. Surely, in some august and overpowering mode, by a jvoice from the firmament, or by rich ji^isions of immortality, will God make liimself known to his people, employ- ing means which shall evidently be Adapted to the taking captive the whole ban, and persuading or forcing the ioul into an attitude of awful adora- ion. Ah, my brethren, how widely different is what is actually found in the sanctuary. God is there working by sermons and sacraments. But the sermons are those of a man of like passions with yourselves, one frail and fallible, who has perhaps little or no power of enlightening your understand- ings, and certainly none of penetrating your hearts. There is moreover no proportion between his natural abili- ties as a reasoner or a speaker, and his success as an ambassador ; on the con- trary, the most honored is often, to all appearance, the worst equipped ; and even where the man has strength, it may be said to be through his weak- ness that the chief good is wrought. And the sacraments — assuredly to a carnal eye nothing can be less com- manding than these. There is an initia- tory sacrament, " baptism for the re- mission of sins ;" but it consists in nothing but the pronouncing a few words, and the sprinkling a little wa- ter. There is a sacrament throuo-h which membership with Christ is con- tinued, and grace imparted for the ma- ny duties and trials of the christian ; but a morsel of bread, and a drop of wine, consecrated by the priest, and received by the believer, are all that is visible in the wondrous transaction. Yes, by the sermons, not of a glorious angel, but of a sinful man ; by sacra- ments, not imprinted with signs of Di- vinity, but so simple and unostenta- tious, that they seem to have no spe- cial fitness for the transmission of su- pernatural things; does God gather out a church from the world, and then train it for immortality. And in this he is great: verily, "the excellency of the power" is of him, not of us. "Thy way, God, is in the sanctuary ;" but, when we turn to the sanctuary, and ob- serve through what a slight, and ap- parently incompetent, instrumentality thou dost bring round results which fill us with amazement, we can but adore thee in thine Alraightiness ; we can but exclaim with a voice of reverence and rapture, "Who is so great a God as our God r' Now we think that in the successive illustrations of our text, Avhich have thus been advanced, there has been much to suggest practical reflections of no common worth. Was God's way in the Jewish temple of old '! Was he I 4U GOD S WAY IN THE SANCTUARY. passing-, in all the sacrifices and cere- monies of the temple, to the comple- tion of the work of our redemption 1 Then let us not fail to study with all diligence the law: in the law was the germ, or bud of the Gospel ; and it will aid us much in understanding the system, when fully laid open, to exam- ine it attentively whilst being gradual- ly unfolded. Christianity, after all, is but Judaism in a more advanced stage ; and it must therefore be our wisdom to trace carefully the religion in its progress towards perfection, if we hope to comprehend it when that perfection was reached. It is true that types de- rive all their significance from Christ ; but it is equally true that they reflect the light which they receive from the cross, and thus illustrate the sacrifice by which themselves are explained. Is it again true that God^s way was " in the sanctuary," in the holy of ho- lies, that place of dread secrecy and sanctity 1 Then, as we have already inferred, let us be satisfied that God's dealings are righteous, however in- comprehensible : we may not be able to explain them ; for a majestic veil shrouds the place in which he works 5 but we may be confident that they are ordered in holiness, inasmuch as that place is of unspotted purity. And lastly, is God's way still " in the sanctuary 1" Is it in the sanctuary, the house devoted to his service, that he specially reveals himself, and com- municates supplies of his grace 1 Shall we not then learn to set a high worth on the public services of religion, to enter " the courts of the Lord's house " in humility, yet in hope, with holy fear, but nevertheless with high expectation, as knowing that we are to meet our Creator, but to meet him as "the God of all grace f O for something of the spirit of the Psalmist, " a day in thy courts is better than a thousand." What rapid growth would there be in christian virtues, what knowledge, what peace, what joy, what assurance, if we had a practical consciousness that God's way " is in the sanctuary ;" and if we therefore came up to the sanctu- ary on purpose to see him, and to be cheered by his presence. You find it said of Hezekiah, that, when he had received a threatening and insulting message from the king of Assyria, he went straightway into the house of the Lord. He might have sought guidance and comfort in his own chamber : but he well knew where God was most sure to be found, and therefore did he hasten at once to the temple. My brethren, let me again say that we magnify, not ourselves, but our office. God is my witness that I have no thought, that, by any wisdom of my own, by skill as a reasoner, by force as a speaker, or by persuasiveness as a pleader,! may be able to instruct you, to animate, or to comfort. We will not dispute, for a moment, that you may read better sermons at home than you can hear in the church. But the differ- ence between the preached and the printed sermon lies in this, that preach- ing is God's ordinance and printing is not. It pleases God to save men "by the foolishness of preaching ;" or, more accurately, " by the foolishness of the proclamation." And therefore is it that we set the pulpit against the press, and declare that you are more likely to be benefited by listening to the simplest sermon, delivered in great weakness, than by studying the volumes of the most able divines. When, but not un- til, it shall cease to be true that God's way " is in the sanctuary," you may hope to find those assistances and com- forts in more private means of grace, which are offered you through public. We scarcely need add that such re- marks as these apply to sacraments as well as to sermons. Yes, ye whom I never see at the table of the Lord, who expect to be nourished though ye continually refuse the proffered suste- nance, we venture to tell you that no- thing can supply to you the want of that which you sinfully neglect. I have visited many, very many, on their death- beds, persons of various ranks and va- rious ages. But I never yet found an individual happy in the prospect of dis- solution, who had habitually neglected the Lord's Supper. How should he bel How can he be strong, if he have lived without food'? I know that God, if he please, can work without means: but, wherl he has instituted means, you have no right to expect that he will. He is on the mountain and on the flood, in the forests, and amid the stars: but his way "is in the sanctuary;" and if therefore you would know him as a EQUITY OF THE FUTURE RETKlBUTJOiX. 415 great God, great to pardon, great to | him in the sanctuary, or not wonder if perfect for immortality, you ntlust seek j he never be found. SERMON XIII. EQUITY OF THE FUTURE RETRIBUTION. PREACHED AT CAMDEN CHAPEL, CAMBERWELL, DECEMBER 11, 1836. "He that is faithful in that which. is least is faithful also in much: and he that w unjust in the least is unjust also in much." — Luke, IC : lU. There is no great difficulty in tracing the connection between these words and those by which they are immedi- ately preceded. Our Lord had just de- livered the parable of the unjust stew- ard, and was admonishing his disciples ;to imitate the prudence, though not the jimmorality, of that unprincipled cha- Iracter. " I say unto you, make to your- jselves friends of the mammon of un- irighteousness, that when ye fail they may receive you into everlasting habi- tations." Though riches cannot pur- chase heaven for their possessor, they may be so employed as to give evi- dence of christian faith and love, and when thus used, they may be said to jorovide witnesses who will testify at j.he last to the righteousness of their .!)wners. The suffering and the desti- ute who have been relieved through .' (he wealth, of which christian princi- i |»le has dictated the application, may )e regarded as friends who will appear support of their benefactor, and irove his right to admission into the nansions prepared for those who have U'.een faithful in their stewardship. Jit j But this statement of Christ seemed ' ipplicabletononebutthe rich. " Why," is disciples might have asked, " ad- lonish us to make friends of the mam- lon of unrigliteousness, when we have othing of this world's wealth, and. therefore, want the means of obeying- the injunction." It was probably to meet this feeling, which he saw rising in their minds, that Christ went on to address them in the words of our text, "Ye judge wrongly (as if he should say) to conclude that because poor, and not rich, you cannot do that which I have just recommended. ' He that is faithful in that which is least is faith- ful also in much ;' " so that the right use of little may place a man in as ad- vantageous a position as the right use of much. The question is not what amount of talent has been intrusted to an individual, but what has been his employment of such measure as he had ; for if he have had but little, and have used that little ill, he is as crimi- nal as though his powers had been greatei', and their misuse correspond- ent to their extent. " He that is unjust in the least is unjust also in much." It thus appears to have been the ob- ject of our Lord to inform his disci- ples that their poverty would be no hin- derance to securing to themselves the advantages within reach of the rich ; and that neither would it furnish them with any excuse for the neglect of those duties whose performance seem- ed facilitated by the possession of wealth. He makes his appeal to a great principle — whether in the nature of 415 EQUITT OF THE FUTURE EETRIEUTIOK. tilings or the dealings of God — the principle that, if a man be faithful up to the measure of his ability, or unjust up to the measure of his ability, when that ability has been small, it may be concluded that he would be equally faithful or equally unjust were his abi- lity greatly multiplied, and that there- fore he may be dealt with in both ca- ses as though there had been this mul- tiplication, and the correspondent in- crease, whether in fidelity or injustice. But though we may easily trace the bearing of Christ's assertion on other parts of the chapter, as I have already intimated, it is not to be denied that the principle he announces is not self- evident, but requires to be illustrated before it can be received. Whatever may be said of the particular case of the employment of wealth, and the equality that may be established be- tween the widow, who has but two mites to give, and the man of vast means, who has thousands at his dis- posal, there is clearly some difficulty in understanding, as a general truth, that to be faithful in the least is to be faithful in much, and that to be unjust in the least is to be unjust also in much. At all events, there are certain limita- tions which must be put on the asser- tion, or it must be interpreted with re- ference to the temper that is displayed, rather than to the action which may have been performed. We can hardly question that some men who are faith- ful in the least, would not also be faith- ful in much. The honesty which is proof against temptation whilst disho- nesty would procure but a trifling ad- vantage, might probably be overcome if great gain were to follow; and, up- on the other hand, there ^might be men, who, though unjust in the least, woxild not also be unjust in the much ; men who think it lawful to practice the mean trick, or the contemptible eva- sion, but who would shun the being engaged in any great fraud. We cannot well think that our Lord designed to affirm that every man who proved himself faithful in little matters would be as sure to be faithful in much ; or that wherever there is dishonesty in some trifling particular, there would be as certainly dishonesty if greater trust were reposed. This would be practi- cally to take no account of the differ- ent strength of different temptations, or the various motives operating un- der different circumstances. But it seems evident from the connection which we have endeavored to trace be- tween the text and the preceding ver- ses, that our Lord refers to the esti- mate which God forms of human ac- tions, an estimate which is made upon the dispositions which those actions display, rather than from the relative magnitude of the actions in the judg- ment of men. The man who has but little, but who is as charitable as his means will allow, is placed by God up- on the same footing with another who has made an equally good use of far larger resources. The man who, with slender abilities, has done his utmost in the cause of righteousness, shall be accounted with as though his talents had been considerable, and his employ- ment of them had been wholly in the service of God. And, upon the other hand, he who fails to improve the lit- tle which he has, shall incur the same condemnation as though the little had been much. This, we say, appears the scope of the assertion of our Lord. He is not actually to be understood as affirming that wherever there was faith- fulness in the little, there would assu- redly be in the much ; or that injustice in the largest transactions must neces- sarily follow upon injustice in the least. There are. indeed, senses and degrees in which even this assertion may be substantiated, and we shall probably find occasion to refer to these hereaf- ter ; but we think it evident, from the context, that our Lord's chief design was to state that men Avith very differ- ent powers and opportunities might occupy precisely the same position in God's sight, and that, consequently, it would not necessarily be any disadvan tage to the poor man that he was so far behind the other in the ability to i\o good. The verse on which we are dis- coui'sing must be classed with those passages which affirm, in one way cr another, that the different circumstan- ces in which men are placed, their dil- ferent capabilities and resources, as members of society, will not necessa- rily affect their future condition. Thost- who have been the highest, and those who have been the lowest upon earth, may ultimately receive precisely the EQUITY OF THK FUTURE RETRIBUTION. 417 same recompense, because God will judge each man by his employment of what he had, without reference to whe- ther it were little, or whether it were much. It will be our business to en- deavor to illustrate the text, when thus considered, as announcing a great principle in the Divine dealings with our race. Of course, objections may be raised to the equity or the justice of such a procedure as is here ascribed to God, and these we must labor to remove. But we shall, probably, embrace whatever is necessary for the explana- tion or the defence of the principle now brought under review, if we en- deavor to show you, in the first place, THAT THE BEING UNJUST IN THE LITTLE FURNISHES A STRONG GROUND FOR A MAN's BEING DEALT WITH AS THOUGH HE HAD BEEN UNJUST IN THE MUCH ; and, in the \iecond place, that mercy dg-es no vi- !JLENCE TO EQUITY, IF FAITHFULNESS IN irHE LEAST BE RECOMPENSED IN THE SAME BANNER AS FAITHFULNESS IN THE MUCH. j Now we will go back at once to the lirst entrance of evil, and examine how jhe principle of the text was acted up- l-n in the case of the common parents if human kind. We are well aware ihat it was only, to all appearance, in I very slight particular that Adam was tnfaithful, and we are equally aware liat he could not have incurred a hea- |ier condemnation had his sin been in ill human calculation of most surpass- jig enormity. -And it is a question of- '!n put whether it were quite what we iiould expect from such a Being as jod, that a punishment should have i?en inflicted apparently so dispropor- ionate to the ofl'ence, and that for a !nlt which seemed so slight as that of •erely eating the forbidden fruit, there )0uld have come down upon our fore- ■ther a vengeance which could not i.ve been increased, whatever had '61} the crime. It is evident that the {inciple here acted upon is the prin- ole of the text ; and that Adam, be- fuse he Avas unjust in the least, was calt with as though he had been un- J5t in the much. Was this at all at Vriance with the known attributes fGodl The question which we have Misstated, conveys at least a suspi- c n that it was ; but that suspicion D St disappear upon more careful ex amination. We readily admit that it was but a slight trial to which Adam was exposed, but not that it was a slight sin which Adam committed. The fact that the trial was but slight, is utterly inconsistent with the suppo- sition that the sin was but small : for, it is evident, that the slighter the trial, the less the excuse in case of failure ; and that the less the excuse, the great- er the guilt. The Avhole question to be decided, in the instance of Adam, was whether he would, or would not, obey God ; and it was only giving him every possible advantage to make the trial of his obedience on a particular apparent- ly the most inconsiderable. If the trial had been made on some far greater particular, we should certainly have heard of the strength of the tempta- tion, and the very objection that is now urged against the equity of the sen- tence would have been still urged, up- on the principle that the creature had been tasked beyond his powers of re- sistance. So that nothing can be more unfair than the dwelling on what is thought the smallness of Adam's sin. It is worthy of nothing but the most determined scepticism, to talk of the insignificancy of eating the forbidden fruit, as though it had been for the ac- tion in itself, and not for the action, as a test of obedience, that our common father incurred the loss of God's favor. The action in itself was in the strictest sense indifferent, neither morally good, nor morally bad ; but the moment the action was made the test of obedience it acquired an importance which could not be exceeded. The very circum- stance of its being in itself so inconsi- derable, did but enhance the immea- surable criminality of its being com- mitted. If we allow that, up to the in- stant of prohibition, Adam might have plucked and eaten the fruit without do- ing the least wrong, this interferes not with the argument that the instant the prohibition was issued, what had been before indifferent became incalculably criminal. Nay, as we have just said, it does but enhance the criminality ; for this only goes to the proving that God subjected man to the slightest possible trial ; and, beyond all ques- tion, what proves the slightness of the trial, proves equally the greatness of his Qfuilt. Therefore, we know not with 53 413 EQUITY OF THE FCJTURE RETRIBUTION. what show of fairness it can be object ed, that there was any evident dispro portion between the first offence and the punishment which it provoked. Unless you can show that it would have been unjust in God to have pun- ished any action of disobedience with death, you certainly cannot show, that, in regard to the eating the forbidden fruit, there was not as thorough a dis- obedience in this case as there could have been in any, perhaps, less excu- sable. So that it is only saying that no case can be imagined which might be justly punished, to say that the incur- red vengeance was greater than Adam's sin deserved. Men may argue then that Adam was unjust in the least, but this affects not the equity of his having been dealt with as though he had been unjust in the much. He had been made to pass through the gentlest trust, and exposed to the smallest possible amount of temptation, and nevertheless he fail- ed ; he was found wanting upon trial, and was speedily overcome by tempta- tion. Does not this undeniably prove, that, had the trial been greater and the temptation stronger, he would have been equally found disobedient to his God? By failing in the least, he irre- sistibly showed that he would have failed in the much ; and thus was his eating the forbidden fruit irresistible evidence that there would have been the same unfaithfulness had God ap- pointed a higher test of his criminali- ty. So that if you can imagine to your- selves more heinous sins which Adam might have committed — if you Avill suppose him violating commandments of a loftier and more severe kind than that which he actually infringed, you do not convict him of any delinquency of which he may not be convicted, on the evidence of what you think his in- considerable offence. Unfallen as he then was, the only thing to be tried was his obedience ; and to disobey in the smallest point was to show himself ready to set his own will on all points in opposition to God's. And, therefore, we think, there was the most accurate proportion between what Adam did, and what Adam suffered. He had done the Avorst thing which could be done in his circumstances ; and therefore he de- served the worst that could be award- ed to transgression. Yea, and if other | orders of beings, spectators of what occurred in this new province of crea- tion, had wondered that results so dis- astrous should follow upon what ap- peared so trifling an action, and to have demanded whether it consisted with the known attributes of their Maker, that vengeance so tremendous should overtake the doer, it would have been enough to have reminded them that, situated as Adam was, the eating of the fruit was to wage war with God ; and they would have found all their surprise removed, by observ- ing, that more heinous crimes were so involved in what seemed the less, that it was truly equitable to deal with , men upon the principle, that '' he that ( is unjust in the least is unjust also in much." And we have no right to limit the | application of the principle. From the ' mode in which it is announced by tlu Savior we must conclude, that it is generally acted upon by God in his dealings with men. We pass, there- j fore, from Adam to ourselves, and wej inquire into the equity of being dealt I with, if unjust in the least, as.though| we had been unjust in the much. Wej have already said, that men would not« be warranted in drawing the inferences which the text seems to draw; that* they would not, that is, be always jus- tified in concluding, that if an indivi- dual had been found unfaithful in some trifling particular, he would necessari- ly be so, if greater trusts should be given into his keeping. Yet the admis- sion which we thus make requires to be guarded. It is rather because many considerations of prudence and policy might operate to the keeping a man faithful in much, than because we repose any confidence in his hones- ty, that we would trust him, after proving him unjust in the least. \> c have so far a belief in the rigid appli- cability of the test, that we reckon that he who can be unjust in the matter ol a penny would also be unjust in the largest transactions, if there were stronger temptations and stronger se curity against being detected. There is an end at once to all our confidencf in the integrity of an individual, tht moment we ascertain that he has know ingly defrauded us of a solitary far thing, and though we might afterward EQUITY OF THE FUTURE RETRIBUTIOIf. 419. trust him with large sums, and allow him great power over our property, yet would it not be from any persua- sion that he might be safely depended on, but solely from a feeling that the motives to honesty were stronger than the rrotives to dishonesty, and that it was so much for the man's in- terest to be faithful that we ran no risk in employing his agency. This is vir- tually the true account of the greatest part of that apparent confidence, which gives so fine an aspect to the transac- tions of a mercantile community. You observe, what has all the air of a most unbounded trust in human integrity ; so that property is shipped and con- signed from one land to another, with- out the least misgrivinof as to the honor of the various persons through whose hands it must pass. It would hardly be possible, if wickedness were really purged from the world, so that the man could not be found who would wilfully wrong his fellow-men, it would hardly be possible to give to our commercial dealings a franker and more cordial ap- pearance — an appearance which might more persuade an observer of the ge- neral prevalence of an acknowledged trust-worthiness. We believe there san be no question, that all this is to oe chiefly referred to the conscious- ■less that it is vastly for man's interest :hat they should deal honestly with each other. If society could be brought into such a condition that the temptations !;o dishonesty should be far stronger han the inducements to honesty, or hat the risk and consequence of being letected in fraudulent dealings had be- lOme wholly inconsiderable, in place ;)f being what they are, too great to be 'encountered, except by the most dar- ing — why, we should soon find almost iniversal suspicion succeeding to the iiresent universal confidence, and men ■ow content with insuring against ship- wreck, would be more in fear of one nother than of the rock or the tem- est. So that it is not, through the nown prevalence of integrity that lerchants feel so safe in making their arious distant consignments ; still less • it through any idea that injustice in le least is no argument for injustice in le much, that the man who will drive hard bargain, or over-reach a cus- •mer, or practice some deception of which the law takes no notice, is yet intrusted by others with large frac- tions of their property. Much of the virtue which is in the world is due to nothing but the not being tempted ; and, perhaps, yet more of the honesty is owing to the strictness of the laws rather than of principles. Though, as we have said, we do not always in practice conclude that he that is un just in the least would be unjust also in the much, we certainly have no farther confidence in him than we derive from the statute-book of the land. If we feel sure that he will not commit a great fraud, it is only because we believe the dread of legal process will fill ef- fectually the place of a fine and ever- active conscience. So that it is after all a great recognition among ourselves of the principle that he that is unjust in the least is unjust also in much. It is not a recognition which is evidenced by our refusing to put any thing in the power of the individual whom we sus- pect or have convicted of the contemp- tible trick, or the dishonorable evasion ; but it is a recognition which is evi- denced by the reasons by which we justify to ourselves any after confi- dence in the man — reasons which are invariably fetched from the defences and securities, as we think them — pro- vided for us by the laws of the land, and not in any degree from that moral rectitude and firmness, which, where- soever they exist, constitute a safe- guard which cannot be equalled. And to go yet farther than this. We never feel much surprised if an indi- vidual who proved himself not over scrupulous in little things, be at length detected in some great act of dishon- esty. The tradesman, of whom we have reason to believe that he would use a false balance, or palm off an inferior article on his customers — why, I am never unprepared for hearing, that he has brought himself within the reach of the law by some flagrant attempt to enrich himself at other men's cost. And the merchant, of whom I can once ascertain \,hat he has soiled his hands with dishonorable profit, outwitting other men, taking undue advantage, though not in such a manner as to ex- pose himself to the censures of the law — it never amazes me to be told that he has utterly lost all his credit, 420 EQUITY OF THE FUTT7RE RETRIBUTION. and that he has been guilty of frauds that must make him an outcast. If I felt any surprise it would only be that I had thought him too shrewd and too politic to venture so far, and because I had calculated on his prudence, though not on his principle. I am so ready in practice to admit that injustice in the least argues that there will be injus- tice in the much, that I hear nothing more than I myself could have predict- ed, when informed, that he who was at one time merely a pilferer, and a de- frauder in things which could not be noticed, has become, as his trade or his expertness increased, a thorough master in cheating, and made himself infamous by the boldness and extent of his frauds. It is farther worth your observing how accurately the assertion of the text is verified and substantiated in re- gard to the use made of wealth. This is the case to which Christ specially refers, and which ought not, therefore, to pass without some share of remark. If a man have been illiberal, and shown a want of christian charity whilst his income was small, what will ordinarily be the effect of an increase in his in- come 1 Why, to make him yet more illiberal and uncharitable. The instan- ces of this are very curious, but quite frequent enough to press themselves upon the attention of any ordinary ob- server. If a man have done what he could with small means, and distribu- ted of the little to those yet more straitened, you will ordinarily find that with the increase in his means there will be an increase of his chari- ties. So that proof is afforded that he that is faithful in the least is faithful also in the much. But exactly the re- verse takes place when a niggardly and churlish man gains an accession of pro- perty-; even his household arrange- ments will be often on a less, rather than on a more, liberal scale than before ; and if he be parsimonious in his fami- ly, we may well expect that he will not be more openhanded with others. And we think it quite to be accounted for on natural principles, why an increase in his income should thus produce an increase in penuriousness. So long as his income is little more than adequate to the wants of his family, there is no power of accumulation 5 the little that can be saved, with even rigid econo- my, is scarcely worth laying by, and the man may, perhaps, therefore, be ready to bestow it in charity. But so soon as his income is more than ade- quate to his wants, the power of accu- mulation is possessed, and every far- thing which can be saved may go to in- crease the store, which is nnore doted on as being the object of a new passion, or the produce of a new ability. Thus what now remains over and above the necessary expenditure is worth being in- vested as capital, and the possessor will grudge the least gift to the poor, as be- ing so much withdrawn from his hoard. But so long as the surplus was too in- considerable to be converted into capi- tal, it was squandered on superfluities, or, perhaps, in some fit of generosity, bestowed upon the necessitous. And so it comes to pass, that where there has been no real principle of charity, whilst the means were contracted, there will often be even less of the ap- pearance when those means are en- larged ; and that the man whose pov- erty has been made an excuse for his doing nothing for the destitute- though if he had really loved God he would have found opportunities of showing it — manifests the same illib- erality when he has ample power in his hands. And what then does he do but irresistibly prove with how great truth it may be concluded that " he that is unjust in the least" will be"unjusf also in much 1" Now we have made this statement as to the degree in which the principle in question is recognized, even among ourselves, in order that you may be better prepared for its thorough intro- duction into God's dealings with our race. If, with all our short-sightednesa and imperfection of judgment, we find cause to conclude that, where there is injustice in the meanest particular, there will be equal injustice in the greatest, provided only there were a concurrence of power and opportunity, we cannot marvel that God, who reads the heart, and observes all its undeve- loped tendencies, should visit a man unfaithful in the least with the same vengeance as another unfaithful in the much. An inconsiderable act may fur- nish as good evidence of the disposi- tion as the most monstrous. He who EQUITY OF THE FUTURE RETRIBUTION. 421 has but small powers of defrauding, and defrauds to the amount of a penny, gives as thorough a demonstration of the want of all principle, as another, who, under a different temptation, forges a name, and thereby gains a thousand pounds. And, if it be the same demon- stration of the want of principle, it is quite to be expected that, when the two appear at the tribunal of God, they will be accounted equally unjust, the difTer- ence in the act being altogether owing to the diflerence in circumstances, and not a jot to the difference in the staple of character. Yet when once we take it as a maxim in the Divine dealings, that he that is unjust in the least is un- j just also in much, we seem furnished I with a principle of judgment which 1 will be applicable in the case of earth's i remotest families, and every individual, j whatsoever his condition. Let us for a moment combine the two clauses of the text, and there can 1 be no difficulty in understanding how I those who had the least moral advan- l tages may be placed hereafter on a footing with those who have had the ) greatest. If faithfulness in the least i furnish a sufficient index as to faith- fulness in the much, and injustice in ! the least, as injustice in the much, i then will there be as accurate tests to I which to bring the conduct of the hea- 1 then as the conduct of the christian ; ! that of those who have enjoyed but few \ means of grace, as of others on whom j they were bestowed in profusion. We I are of course certain that where much has been given more will be required ; ,and we cannot, therefore, suppose that I as great an amount of condemnation jwill be incurred by those who have fnot heard the Gospel, as by those who have heard it, and despised it. Yet the principle asserted in our text appears to bring the two much nearer to an equality than we have been ac- fCustomed to place them. At all events, • 'it goes the length of asserting, that as good ground may be furnished for the condemnation of the heathen, by his having been unjust in the little, as for that of the christian, by his having been unjust in the much. The heathen may say at last, " I had but few advanta- ges," but the reply will be, that his ion-improvement of those few is as :onclusive against him as would have been his non-improvement of the ma- ny. He had the relics of tradition ; the lingering traces of patriarchal religion, which have never been wholly oblite- rated from among the most savage and itrnorant of human kind. He had the foot-prints of Deity visible in all the scenes by which he was encompassed, and, yet more, he had within himself the witness of conscience — that moni- tor which is found in the lowest depths of degradation, and which never ceases to lift an impassioned voice in support of the truth, that there is a righteous moral Governor. Though man may have almost debased himself to a level with the brute by superstition, and yet more by vice, and though all this may be but little, Avhen compared with the abundant privileges which belong to those on whom falls the rich light of revelation — nevertheless, if the heathen have been unfaithful in this little, he will have no right to complain that no- thing more was vouchsafed, and he will not be able to assert the probability that, if unfaithful in the least, he would have been faithful in the much. The probability is all the other way ; for it is by and through conscience that, un- der every dispensation, the Spirit of the living God continues its strivings with man ; and if conscience plead in vain, then, whatever the dispensation, evidence is given that its means of grace will not be effectual, and there- fore might the inference be fairly drawn, that having been unjust in the least, the heathen would also be un- just in the much; and, so far from having a right to plead in extenuation of his wickedness the want of chris- tian advantages, he may even be taxed with the neglect of those advantages, inferred from his neglect of what were actually bestowed. In like manner we deny not that in a christian community there are very different trusts deposit- ed by God with different men. Whilst one has the benefit of religious instruc- tion from his very infancy, and has been endowed with large talents, and placed in a sphere where he might act a conspicuous part as a servant of God, another has been cradled in igno- rance, and apparently debarred by his very condition from acquiring much of Christianity for himself, and yet iTiore from imparting it to others; and 422 EQUITY OF THE FUTURE RETRIBUTION. we do not suppose of these men, that, if both are condemned, they will be condemned with the same condemna- tion ; but we do suppose, on the prin- ciple of the text, that the man who has been tried only in a little, will have no right to complain that he was not tried in the much ; and more, we should conclude, that it might, with the most thorough justice, be inferred, that, hav- ing been unfaithful in the least, he would have been equally unfaithful in much. It will be owing to nothing but the exercise of Divine goodness that he receives not the very same punish- ment for his unfaithfulness in the little, as will be awarded to the other for his unfaithfulness in much, seeing that he has given decisive evidence of a dispo- sition, which would have made him un- faithful, whatever the amount commit- ted to his keeping. So that by just the same argument — which we ourselves are wont to maintain when we reason from dishonesty in a trifle to a funda- mental want of principle, which would produce, under any other circumstan- ces, dishonesty of the most daring kind — may we conclude God would deal only righteously, if he treated a man, unlawful in the least, as though he had been unlawful in much. Yea, we can pass from our own decisions, and our own inferences, when the mat- ter in question is simply the estimate which may be formed of a man, suppo- sing him intrusted with much, from what he has shown himself when in- trusted with little. Apply our reason- ing to the case of the final judgment of different nations and different condi- tions: and, as there goes up to the tri- bunal the pagan, who never heard the Gospel of Jesus, he is followed by the christian, to whom God spake in these last days by his Son ; and as the man of large talents, of unbounded means, and of unlimited privilege, stands side by side with another, unto whom has been allotted the very lowest of moral advantages, and the very lowest oppor- tunities of doing God service, you won- der how men so differently circumstan- ced, can be equitably brought to the same trial. Why we feel that we an- nounce to you a principle, on which the judgment may justly proceed, what- ever the diversities of character and of condition, when we simply quote to you the latter clause of the text — " He that is unjust in the least is unjust also in much." Now you will hardly fail to perceive that, throughout all this labored illus- tration of principle, we have not ven- tured to affirm that unfaithfulness in the least will be as severely visited as un- faithfulness in much ; but only that the one furnishes as good evidence of cha- racter as the other, so that deficiency of means will be no excuse for defi- ciency in improvement. We have not ventured to go further than this, be- cause we know, that it is to be more to- lerable for Sodom and Gomorrah in the day of judgment than for Chorazin and Bethsaida — for those, that is, who have been unjust in the least, than for those who have been unjust in much. But this is, probably, owing, in the main, to the great mercy of God, though there may be cases in which he distinctly knows, and will act on the knowledge, that those who have been unfaithful in the least would have repented in sack- cloth and ashes, had they been favored with much. Unfaithfulness in little is so strong in evidence in general that there would be unfaithfulness in much, , that we do not believe that it would be | at variance with justice, that if he who has exhibited the one were dealt with in precisely the same manner as if he had exhibited the other; and, if not at variance with justice, we ascribe ex- clusively to the mercy of God, that there is to be the gentler punishment, where there has been the least of privilege. So that a man is to have, as it were, the benefit of the supposition, that he might have been faithful in much, though he has been unfaithful in the least. But if it be necessary thus to limit the application of the second clause of the text, in order to preserve its con- sistency with other portions of Scrip- ture, there is, in each instance, no re- spect to the person; for we propose to show you, in the last place, that mercy does no violence to equity if faithfulness in the least be recompensed in the same measure as faithfulness in the much. Hitherto we have engaged you with the case of unfaithfulness in the least ; and our object has been to show you that it might justly be dealt with as though it had been unfaithfulness in EQUITY OF THE FUTURE RETRIBUTION. 4^8 much, however God in His mercy may extend to it a less severe measure. But we now come to the case of faith- fulness in the least, and here the tes- timony of the Holy Scriptures is in fa- vor of the unrestricted application of the text, and of our holding and afiirm- incr that God will allow to those who had but little, and used that little well, as brilliant a portion as to those who, having much, were alike faithful in its use. It is here that we can appeal to such passages as that which declares, that ''he that receiveth a prophet in the name of a prophet, shall receive a prophet's reward ;" an undeniable state- ment that the prophet's reward may be gained by those who are never actually engaged in doing the prophet's work; or as that which makes the poor wi- dow's two mites outweigh, in God's sight, the costliest oblations of the wealthy; an evident intimation that it is not the amount given, but simply the proportion which the amount bears to the abilitj^ which is considered and noted by Him, of whom poor and rich are alike stewards. If Ave were right in arguing that unfaithfulness in the least furnishes as correct an index of dispo- sition and character as unfaithfulness in much, and that, therefore, in all jus- tice, the same punishment might in both cases be awarded, we may safely argue, conversely, that faithfulness in the least is as good evidence of charac- ter as faithfulness in the much, so that [ mercy cannot be said to interfere with i equity, if, in each case, the same eter- I nal recomnense be bestowed. If jus- I lice, untempered with mercy, might, in the one instance, inflict the same penalty, it must be justice uncompro- mised with mercy, which, in the other, allots the same reward. And we know i of no appointment which can more ; tend to reconcile us to the inequali- ties of human condition, than that thus announced by our Savior : "He that is faithful in that which is least, is faith- I ful also in much." You are all aware I that one of the main arguments by which natural religion substantiates the truth of a judgment to come, is fetched from the frequent depression of virtue, and the triumph of wicked- ness ; from those manifest diversities and incongruities which deform the present state, and which seem to pro- claim that there must yet come a sea- son of adjustment and of retribution. And it is a reasoning not easily in- validated, that the Righteous Moral Governor must have designed our re- appearance in another state of being, since good and evil are here unequally distributed, and with so little regard, as it seems, to character, that the gov- ernment of God would contradict His nature if it terminated with the pre- sent dispensation. But when you have ceased to wonder at the inequalities of human condition, because persuaded that we are as yet only in an inter- locutory state, there are questions which may press on us of singular in- terest, with regard to that judgment, of whose certainty they are witnesses. If, for example, the judgment is to de- monstrate the impartiality of God, if its allotments are to make it evident that He has dealt with all men without respect of persons, it is difficult to un- derstand how this can be efl^ected, see- ing that powers and opportunities for preparation have been so various, that one man appears to have been situated a hundred iold more advantageously than another for escaping the punish- ment and securing the reward. Accord- ing to the representations furnished us by the Scriptures, the recompense of the future is proportioned to what men have done for God whilst on earth. But some have been so much better circumstanced than others for doing God service, that it seems as though it were impossible that thorough imparti- ality should at last be demonstrated. If we take the singular but majestic sketch of the judgment drawn by Christ himself, shortly before his crucifixion, we find that the acquittal or the con- demnation is made to turn merely up- on the having been beneficent, upon having fed the hungry, clothed the na- ked, and visited the sick. But this is like putting the acquittal within the reach of none but the rich, none at least but those who have more than sufficient for themselves, an overplus with which to be charitable. What is the poor man to dol the individual who is forced to appeal to the bounty of others, and is wholly without the power of being a benefactor himself? Is his poverty to incapacitate him for passing the last trial 1 Is the wealth of 424 EQUITY OF THE FUTURE KETRIBUTlOIf. another man to give so mighty a supe- riority that hereafter, as well as here, riches will secure him the ascendancy ] Indeed this were so to perpetuate into futurity the distinctions of the present, that the last judgment, in place of adjust- ing the discrepancies which now throw suspicion on the moral government of God, would but make hopeless the solu- tion of what is intricate and perplex- ed. Yet is it not certain that some men, through no fault of their own, but sim- ply through the Divine arrangements, are so situated, so endowed, that they cannot do what others do in offices of zeal and benevolence, and that, there- fore, they must stand lower amongst the candidates for eternity, than had their station on earth or power been different. Oh, not so ! It is here that the principle of the text comes beauti- fully into operation, " He that is faith- ful in that which is least, is faithful also in much." We concede, of course, that one man can do, far more than another, if there be a great difference in the means of usefulness respectively pos- sessed. But it does not follow, what- ever their means, that the one will do more than the other, in proportion to his ability ; and if God is pleased to take his estimate from the proportion which what is done bears to the power of doing, there is an end at once to all necessary superiority on the side of those who have the pre-eminence in wealth, rank, and talent. The propor- tion may be as great, or even greater, in the instance of the poor, or the de- spised, or the illiterate man, than in that of another who has all the advan- tages in which the first is deficient, and, therefore, may the greater recom- pense be gained where, on all human calculation, there was the least power of giving. Will you tell me that pover- ty, because it incapacitates a man from being a giver, must, therefore, incapa- citate him for all those acts of benevo- lence which are mentioned by Christ as the criterion of character ? We deny it altogether. We contend that the poorest may be charitable, as well as the richest. What though he have not even the widow's two mites to bestow 1 What though he be actually dependant upon the bounty of others 1 Neverthe- less he may, by his rigid carefulness, and in taking as little as possible from the charitable, leave as much as possi- ble to be bestowed on his companions in misery, and thus does he contribute to their relief precisely that amount, which, had he been less conscientious and less thrifty, he would have required for himself. This is just the extreme case, the case of the actual beggar; and this beggar may rob other beggars by wringing from the benevolent more than his own necessities positively de- mand, or he may contribute to other beggars by accepting from the bene- volent only what will just suffice to keep him from starvation. He is "faith- ful in the least," if he draw as little as possible on the funds of benevolence ; and thus his faithfulness in the least having involved a much harder sacri- fice than that of many others in the much, may place him far above the stewards who have had to administer, and have administered well, the largest revenues of opulence. There can be no greater mistake than the imagining that God has done the poor man such injustice as to allow the rich to mono- polize the power of being charitable. I do not know the man so poor that he may not give to others. He may give by taking less from the benevolent than they are ready to bestow, and by thus leaving them more to bestow in other quarters. And, we nothing doubt, that many a poor man, who has always been striv- ing to scrape together as much as was possible from the charitable, never reck- oning that he had enough, if more were to be had — that he will be as truly con- victed at the judgment of having de- frauded the perishing, and wronged the friendless, as the wealthy proprietor who has squandered his substance on luxury, and closed his ear to the cry of the destitute. In this manner it is that, in the case of many, there is as much scope for unfaithfulness with small means, as with large; and that therefore, the poorest may place him- self on a footing with the richest, when the two come to the judgment, as stew- ards of God's gifts. It is the same in every other case. The man who has but the smallest opportunities of in- struction, may improve those opportu- nities with as much of earnestness and diligence as another who has the larg- est. There will be a great difference in EQUITY OF THE FUTUHE RETUIBUTION. 425 the knowledge of the two, but none in the faithfulness; and a gracious God, who judges according to what a man hath, and not according to what he hath not, may look with equal favor on both. And O, we do think this one of the most beautiful of the arrangements in the dispensation beneath which we live! We cannot receive from God so little of present advantage as not to have enough to enable us to attain the very noblest of the future. We care not how different may be the condition of those whom v^e address — high and low, rich and poor, learned and igno- rant, we regard them all as candidates for the same prizes, all as having it equally in their power, not only to en- ter heaven, but to reach eminence in that kingdom. The distinctions of earth are evanescent, and have nothing to correspond with them in that state of being. Indeed, those who have had pre- sent advantages, will have more to an- swer for; for the possession of those advantages implies accountableness, but their non-possession entails no dis- ability in regard to striving for the re- wards of eternity. We carry onwards our thoughts to the last dread assize, when, throned in clouds, the Judge of quick and dead shall summon all to His bar. Ministers and people, masters and servants, all shall stand together — all be brought to a strict reckoning for their respective talents and opportuni- ties; and, if all are accepted through the merits of Christ, the minister will not necessarily be placed higher than the people, though his occupation, whilst on earth, was holier, and more intimate with Deity; neither will mas- ters and servants be necessarily sepa- rated because they moved during life in widely different spheres, each in his own place may have done his utmost for God, and hereafter, in thorough consistency with His every attribute, may God assign to each the same re- compense. In this way it is that Chris- tianity, though vehemently opposed to all those levelling theories which dis- affected men industriously broach, place the highest and the lowest on a par in the competition for eternity. Christianity is the best upholder of those distinctions in society, teaching that there is no more direct rebellion against the Creator than resistance to any constituted authority, or the en- deavor to bring round that boasted equality in which all shall have the same rights, or, more truly, in which none shall have any. But, nevertheless, if Christianity make it sinful to repine against servitude, it gives dignity to servitude, which would show the re- pining unreasonable, if it had not been made sinful. It tells every servant that, if he be faithful in his calling, he may rank with his master hereafter, even though the employment of the master have been exclusively the advancing of Christ's cause on earth. it should be a surprisingly cheering thing to those who have to wear away life in the meanest occupation, that, as im>- mortal beings, they are not one jot dis- advantaged by their temporal position, but may make as much progress in the Christian race as though placed on the very summit in Christian office. Ay, and the cottager, who never is heard of beyond his own petty village, and whose only business in life is with the spade and the plough; and the artizan, who, week after week, must pursue the same dull routine, turning the wheel or throwing the shuttle ; and the ser- vant, whose days are consumed in the drudgery of servitude — there is not one of these v/ho need look with discontent on the missionary, before whom idolatry is quailing, or the phi- lanthropist, whose charities spread happiness through a parish. The in- mates of the cottage, or the manufac- tory, or the kitchen, are the rivals of the missionary and the philanthropist for the prizes of heaven ; and, when the throne is set, and the books are opened, all may receive the same crown, or that on the head of the mean man may even outshine that which the distinguished man wears. O that God might grant to all of us so to use the present world as not to abuse it ; so to pass through things temporal as that we finally lose not things eternal ; and if we have much, whether of wealth, or of talent, or of privilege, that we may labor to be faith- ful, knowing that the much not improv- ed must entail an immensity of wretch- edness, and that, if we have little, we may labor equally to be faithful, know- ing that a little well improved shall as- sure an immensity of happiness. 54 SERMONS ON CEFwTAIN OF THE LESS PROMINENT FACTS AND REFERENCES IN SACRED STORY. BY HENRY MELVILL, B.D. MINISTER Of CAMDEN CilAPEL., CAMBERWELL, AND CHAPLAIN TO THE TOWER OF LONDON ; FORMERLY FBL.LOW AND TUTOR OF ST. PETER's COLLEGE, CAMBRISCB. NEVV-YORK: STANFORD &. SWORDS, 13'J DllOAUVVAV. PHILADELI'HIA: GEORGE S. Al'PLliTON, 148 CHESNUT-STREET. 1844. 11 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1843, by Stanfohp & SwoKDS, in the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New- York. new-yoek: Printed by Daniel Faiishaw, h SERMON 1 THE FAITH OF JOSEPH ON HIS DEATH-BED. " By failh Josej)h, when ho died, made mention of the departing of the children of Israel, and gave commandment concerning his bones." — Hebrews, 11 : 22. We have often occasion to point out to you what a difference there is in the standards by which God and men judge the relative worth or importance of things. In one great sense, indeed, there cannot be to God any of those distinctions which exist to ourselves; for, wondrously exalted as He is, things must be equal in his sight, which differ in ours in many respects and degrees. It is undoubtedly to forget the im- measurable distance of the Creator from the creature, to imagine that He who sitteth in the heavens, swaying the universal sceptre, regards as great, and as small, just what are reckoned such in our feeble computations. There ought to be nothing clearer than this — if our great and our small were great and small to God, God would be little more than one of ourselves, judging by the same measures, and therefore pos- sessing only the same faculties. Yet, though the distinctions made by God must not be thought the same with those made by man, we are not to con- clude that God admits no differences where differences are supposed by our- selves. We are evidently in error, if , we think that what is great to us must ■ be great to God, and that what is small to us must be small to God: but it is not necessary, in order to the avoiding this error, that we should confound great and small, or compute that in God's sight they must be actually the same. They may not be the same ; they may be widely separated : and yet none of them may be great to God, none of them small: whilst, moreover, the Divine estimate may be the reverse of the human, great and small chang- ing places, so far as difference is al- lowed between the two. It is this latter fact on which we now chiefly wish to fix your attention. Take, for example, our sins. We deny that there can be such a thing as a sin which is small in God's sight ; foras- much as sin, from its very nature, must be of infinite guilt, because committed against an infinite Being. But this is not saying that there are no degrees in sin, as though God regarded all crimes as of equal enormity. One sin may be greater than another in the Divine estimate, as well as in the hu- man ; and yet God may account no sin small, however ready we may be to think this or that inconsiderable. And what we are disposed to reckon tri- fling, may be precisely that to which God would attach the greater crimi- nality ; so that, as we have said, great and small may change places, and where both God and man admit a dif- ference, you may have to reverse the judgment of the one to find that of the other. Sins of the mind, for instance, are ordinarily thought less of than sins of the flesh ; pride incurs but slight reproof, whilst sensuality i.s heavily de- nounced. Yet the proud, perhaps, of- fers a more direct insult to God, and more invades his prerogative, than the sensual ; and thus his offence may be the more hateful of the two in the sight of the Creator, whilst it receives, com- paratively, no blame from the creature. Accordingly, there is nothing of which God speaks with greater loathing than of pride : the proud man is represented as the object of his special aversion. '' God resisteth the proud." So that 4.30 THE FAITH OF JOSEPH ON HIS DEATH-BED, whilst with ourselves he puts a differ- ence between sins, he inverts our de- cision, and assigns the greater atro- ciousness where we assign the less. Take, again, covetousness and drunk- enness : these sins are neither thought hy men, nor represented in Scripture, as of equal enormity. But which do men think the worse '\ The covetous man escapes with scarce a censure ; the drunkard is the object of scorn and re- probation. But is this verdict ratified by the Bible 1 Nay, whilst the drunk- ard is unreservedly told that his sin shall exclude him from the kingdom of heaven, the covetous man is identified with the idolater. No one who remem- bers what idolatry is, and how God de- nounces the worshipper of images, will hesitate to admit that such a represen- tation places covetousness at the very top of things offensive to our Maker. How careful, then, ought we to be as to what standards we adopt, when we would estimate the relative guiltiness of sins ! If we must distinguish sin from sin — though it were perhaps safer to confine ourselves to the truth, that all sin is infinitely heinous — let us take good heed that we always go for our rule to the Divine word, and not to hu- man opinion. And much the same may be said in regard of duties, and of actions which God may graciously be pleased to ap- prove. It is not to be thought, that be- cause no human action can deserve re- Avard from God, all actions performed in his service must be of equal account. With virtues, as with vices, God may acknowledge great differences : He will not overlook, as too small for no- tice, the cup of cold water given in the name of a disciple ; but he does not necessarily put this act of benevolence on a level with every other achieve- ment of faith and of love. Yet here we have the same remark to make as with reference to sins. The Divine decision will, in many cases, be wholly differ- ent from the human ; whilst actions are classified by the one as well as by the other, the superiority may be assigned in a contrary order. The act of righ- teousness, which we should select as most worthy of commendation, and most demonstrative of piety of heart, may not be that on which the Almigh- ty would fix, when signifying his ap- proval of one of his servants. It, may rather be, that some sacrifice which the world never knew, some exertion which was limited to his own home, and per- haps even his own heart, has been the most approved thing in the sight of the Lord, of all wrought by one whose time, and substance, and strength, have been wholly devoted to the cause of religion. It may not be when, like Paul, he is fighting '' with beasts at Ephesus ;" nor when, like Stephen, he is laying down his life for the truth, that a man of God does what specially draws on him the smile of his Maker. There may have been quiet and unobserved moments, moments spent in solitude and prayer, in which he has fought what God ac- counted a harder battle, and won a no- bler victory. And in the arrangements of his household, in meeting some do- mestic trial, in subduing some unruly passion, he may virtually have display- ed a stronger trust, and a simpler pre- ference of the promises of the Most High, than when he has stood forth as the champion and confessor, amid all the excitement of a public scene, and gained for himself a deathless renown. "The Lord seeth not as man seeth:" and mightily should it console those who are not so circumstanced as to have great opportunity of making ef- forts and sacrifices on behalf of Christ and his cause, that it is not necessarily the martyr whose self-surrender is most accepted of God, nor the missionary whose labors and endurances are most held in remembrance ; but that the pri- vate christian, in his struggles with himself, in his mortification of his pas- sions, in the management of his familj'^, in his patience under daily troubles, in his meek longings for a brighter world, may be yet dearer to his Father in heaven, and be thought to have shown more of faith, than many a man who has entered boldly the desert of hea- thenism with the cross in his hand, or even ascended the scaffold to seal with his blood his confession of Christ. Now all these remarks on the differ- ent standards by which God and man judge actions, Avill be found to bear directly on the words of our text. In this 11th chapter of his Epistle to the Hebrews, St. Paul collects from the histories of patriarchs, and other wor- thies, instances and examples of the THE FAITH OF JOSEPH ON HIS DEATH-BED. 431 power of faith. And the question, in reference to our foregoing remarks, is, whether he has fixed upon those which we should have fixed upon ourselves. Inspired as the Apostle was, so that he must have been directed to facts most worthy of commemoration, we may not doubt that what he takes to show the faith of any one of the patriarchs, must be at least as strong an instance as his history contains. And if the instance selected by the Apostle be not that which we should have selected our- selves — if there be any other which we should have decidedly preferred — it is evident that our judgment differs from that of God ; so that we have pre- cisely the case on which we have been speaking, the case in which what man would account best is not so accounted by Him who readeth the heart. But this, Ave suspect, is exactly what may be alleged in regard of our text. We give you the history of Joseph, a his- tory more than commonly eventful, and which is narrated in Scripture with ! special minuteness. We set you down ! to the examining this history, in order ; that you may take out of it the inci- ' dent, or the action, which shall most ! clearly demonstrate that Joseph had : faith in God, and that this faith was a principle of great energy and strength. i Do you think that you would make the j same selection as St. Paul makes in our I textl passing over all the trials of Jo- ! seph ; all the afflictions which he brave- ! ly and meekly endured ; his confidence ; in his interpretation of Pharaoh's i dreams, though on the truth of that in- ■ terpretation depended his credit, and even his life ; his eagerness to reqeive his father and brethren into the land, ! though every shepherd was *'an abom- ' ination unto the Egyptians," and they I were but likely to lower him in the ge- neral esteem — passing over, w^e say, ■all this, and having literally nothing to commemorate of Joseph, save that, when he was dying, he ''made men- tion of the departing of the children of Israel, and gave commandment con- cerning his bones." Would this, we ask, have been the fact on which an uninspired writer would have fastened, when choosing from the history of Jo- seph what might best illustrate the Patriarch's faith in God 1 Hardly, we hink, — and if not, then you have a clear exemplification of the truth on which we have endeavored to insist, that the actions which seem to men most conclusive, as evidences of righ- teousness of character, may not, after all, be those to which God would at- tach most worth and importance. It is one thing, however, to allow that the selected proof is not that on which we ourselves should have fixed, and quite another to conclude, that, when pointed out, we cannot see its force. We may believe that you all concur with us in the opinion, that had an uninspired writer had to choose the best proof of faith from the history of Joseph, he would not have chosen that selected by St. Paul. But, nevertheless, we may be able to determine that the proof is a strong proof: if we cannot show it to be the strongest which the history furnishes, we may at least as- certain that it establishes the power of the principle which it is quoted to il- lustrate. This then it is which we must propose as our object through the re- mainder of our discourse. We have already drawn one valuable inference from the text, in that, through showing that God and men do not always judge alike in regard of righteous acts, it teaches us that the obscure individual, and the unnoticed deed, may be more approved above than the conspicuous leader, and the dazzling performance. But we have now to examine whether that for which Joseph stands comme- morated by St. Paul, did not strikingly demonstrate his faith. We put out of sight the surprising and varied occur- rences of the patriarch's life ; and, standing round his death-bed, we will simply consider whether he did not display extraordinary faith, as we hear him make " mention of the departing of the children of Israel," and give "commandment concerning his bones." Now who amongst you is unaware of the power which prosperity has of attaching men to earth 1 of the unwil- lingness felt by those who have every gratification within reach, to submit to any change, or even to contemplate its possibility'? It is not necessary, in or- der to this consciousness, that you should yourselves abound in what the world has to ofler, for then there would be comparatively few to whose feelings we might venture to appeal. But you 432 THE FAITH OF JOSEPH ON HIS DEATH-BED. are all judges as to the tendencies of our nature, when acted on by certain causes and circumstances ; and you may all therefore decide, from what you have experienced in yourselves, whether, in proportion as temporal ad- vantages accumulate, man is not dis- posed to settle himself below, and to prefer the present to the future. If I were looking out for strong proof of the power of faith, of faith as dictating that eternal and invisible things be pre- ferred to temporal and visible, I cer- tainly should not go to the hovel, whose wretched inmate has scarce sufficient for subsistence ; I should rather turn to the palace where gorgeousness reigns, and all that our nature can desire is lavishly spread. It is not but that the inmate of the hovel has a wide field for the exercise of faith, a far wider, in some respects, than the own- er of the palace ; but in the particular respect of a preference of the future to the present, of a readiness to give up the visible on the strength of a pro- mise of God which refers to the invi- sible, the trial of faith is evidently with the man of abundance, rather than with him whose whole life is a series of struggles. The pauper may be snid to have nothing to leave ; there is nothing in his portion which can come, even in appearance, into compe- tition with what is promised by God ; whereas the noble has to separate from all that is most attractive in this lower creation, and to exchange a felt good for an unseen and untried. And, therefore, if we found the noble quite indifferent to what he had to abandon, so possessed with a persuasion of the immeasurably greater worth of invisi- ble things, that he was all eagerness to enter on their enjoyment, we should say that here had faith won one of the finest of its triumphs, and that perhaps no where could its display be more conspicuous or convincing. But it is something of this kind of display which is furnished by the death-bed of Joseph. We do not pre- cisely mean to speak of this death-bed, as though it presented the same facts as that of a Christian, who, with his eye firmly fixed on the glories of hea- ven, is almost impatient to break away from the possessions of earth. Joseph lived when there were yet but dim no- tices of a world beyond the grave, and we may not too confidently assume his acquaintance with a state of everlast- ing happiness. But there was every thing to make Joseph desire the set- tling his children and brethren perma- nently in Egypt ; so that he had some- what of the same difficulty to overcome in contemplating their removal, as the man who has to resign great present advantages, that he may enter on those promised in another state of being. The scene indeed soon changed: there arose another king "who knew not Jo- seph," and oppression weighed down the children of Israel. Had this change occurred before Joseph died, there would have been comparatively no- thing striking in his making mention of the departure of his posteritjr, and showing that it occupied his last thoughts upon earth. It would then have been quite natural that he should have desired this departure, and point- ed out, with his dying breath, the pro- mise which ensured it, as the most pre- cious of the legacies which he had to bequeath. But when Joseph died, he was at the very summit of prosperity, scarcely second to the monarch on the throne, with a vast inheritance of honor and wealth to transmit to his children. He had, moreover, established his brethren in the land ; so that he, who had been brought into Egypt a captive and an exile, saw himself at the Jiead of a nu- merous tribe, which seemed growing to a power which scarce another could rival. I know what, in such a case, would have been the dictate of human policy and ambition. I know what the dying man would have said, had he known nothing, or thought nothing, of the declarations of God, in respect ofl his family. He would have advised that the colony so successfully plant ed, should studiously avoid the uproot-" ing itself from so congenial a soil, andi take all possible pains to deepen and strengthen its hold. He would have contrasted the mean estate of his race, whilst they sojourned in Canaan, withi the wealth and greatness acquired in Egypt, and have argued, from the com-^ parison, that the true wisdom would be to remain where they were, rather than to return to the home of their fathers. You have only to think of THE FAITH OF JOSEPH OTv HIS DEATH-BED. 4S3 Joseph as having risen from the lowest to the highest condition ; as the found- er, to all appearance, of a mighty dyn- asty, of a family possessed of almost regal power; and you will readily ad- mit that the thoughts most likely to have occupied his mind were thoughts of the future fortunes of his house, fortunes of which he might augur well if his children continued in Egypt, but which would be altogether perilled by their quitting that country. And had there not been a higher principle in Joseph than that of world- ly policy or ambition ; had he been merely a leader who sought aggran- dizement and distinction for himself and his posterity; it is not credible that his dying words would have been those which were calculated to unset- tle his tribe, and to lead their thoughts from the land where they were most likely to be great. For Joseph might, at the least, have kept silence in re- gard of the predicted change of resi- . dence; if, with the consciousness that ! God had spoken of a going back to Canaan, he could not have distinctly ; advised the settling in Egypt, yet ! whilst there seemed so much to re- ; commend the remaining where they i were, he might have abstained from I speaking to his children of their being I removed. i But Joseph was something more than (the founder of a powerful line; and the (feelings which actuated him were not jthose of policy and ambition. Joseph (was a man who feared the Lord, and with whom the word of the Most High iprevailed against all dictates of carnal .wisdom or desire. It was nothingf to Joseph that he had Vv'onderfully attain- ed to lordship over Egypt, and that now, in quitting the world, he seemed jto have that lordship to hand down to rhis children. He knew that God had irevealed to his fathers a purpose of giving another land to them and to jtheir seed; and that it was not in ^&yP^5 f^i'i' 3i^d fertile though it was, ■hat he designed to carry on the mys- erions dispensation which should is- 'Ue in the redemption of the world. Vnd therefore were Joseph's thoughts •n Canaan rather than on Egypt ; on Canaan, in which as yet his family >ossessed nothing but a burial-place, ather than on Egypt, where already they were masters of houses and lands. Oh, my brethren, before you pronounce that there was no great trial or dis- play of faith, in Joseph's making men- tion, under such circumstances, of the departure of the Israelites, consider the ditliculty, experienced by your- selves, in preferring what is future to what is present, in giving up a good, of which you have the possession, for an- other of which you have only the pro- mise. For it was this which Joseph had to do: and that, moreover, at the least in as great a degree as is ever imposed upon us. You know very well that you find it hard to make up the mind to a separation from objects, sought perhaps with eagerness, and obtained with difficulty; though you profess to believe, that, on passing away from earthly possessionsj you are to enter upon others a thousandiold more desirable. And you would per- haps find it yet harder, to make distinct arrangements for the destruction of the fabric Avhich your whole life had been occupied in perfecting, and which, after long trial and struggle, seemedL complete in every part, just because there was a saying, referring to a yet remote time, which seemed to pledge God to the building up that fabric iu some remote place. But this was exactly the task assign- ed to Joseph on his death-bed ; and the more you suppose that the patriarch had but little knowledge of heaven and its joys, the more surprising do you make it, that he should have endanger- ed, on the strength of the Divine word, the temporal prosperity of his tribe. ■ For, where eternal sanctions were but dimly revealed, temporal considera- tions must have had great weight ; and the dying leader, who could hardly speak of atTlictions as leading to glory, v.'ould be strongly moved to the hiding afiiictions, to the leaving them, at least, to be found out by experience. But Joseph was too much penetrated by confidence in the declaration of God, to allow of his conferring Avith flesh and blood, or being deterred by proba- ble consequences. It is a fine, a noble scene, which is brought before us by the simple record of the historian ; and I call upon you to behold it, that you may learn what faith can do against the promptings of nature, the sugges- 55 434, ' THE FAITH OF JOSEPH ON HIS DEATH-BED. lions of suspicion, and the dictates of pride. I kpow what would be likely to be the uppermost feelings in that expir- ing man, who, amid all the insignia of authority and wealth, is bidding fare- well to brethren and children. 1 know what he might be expected to do and to say. His wasted features might be lit up with a smile of exultation, as he sur- veyed the tokens of almost regal state ; and he might say to those around, '' Be- hold the glory to which 1 have raised you, and which I bequeath to you and your posterity. It will be your own fault if this glory decay: the best of all Egypt is yours, if you do not, through indo- lence or love of change, suffer that it be wrested from your hold. I have made, I leave you great — great, as chieftains in an adopted country, forsake not that country, and your greatness may be as permanent as it is dazzling." But nothing of this kind proceeds from the dying man'.s lips. He speaks only of the abandonment of all the glory and greatness ; of an abandonment which might perhaps not be distant ; for he gives directions as to his burial in some unpossessed land. Interpret or para- phrase his last words, and they are as though he had said, " Children and bre- thren, be not deceived by your present prosperity; this is not your home; it is not here, notwithstanding the ap- pearances, that God wills to separate and consecrate you to himself. Ye are the descendants of Abraham ; and Egypt, with its idols, is no resting- place for such. Ye must be ever on the alert, expecting the signal of depar- ture from a land, whose treasures and glories are but likely to detain you from the high calling designed for you by God. Settle not then yourselves, but be ye always as strangers; stran- gers where you seem firmly establish- ed, and where, by a marvellous concur- rence of events, you have risen to dominion." Such, we say, are virtually the ut- terances of the expiring patriarch. And when ihou think that, by these utter- ances, he was taking the most efiectu- al way of destroying the structure so surprisingly reared, and on which it were incredible that he did not himself gaze with amazement and delight ; that he was detaching those whom he loved from all which, on human calculation, was most fitted to uphold them in glo- ry and power — oh, you may tell me of other demonstrations and workings of that principle, by which servants of the Lord have "subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained pro- mises, stopped the mouths of lions;" but I can see that nothing short of this principle, ay, and of this principle in a very high degree, could have moved the dying man to such words as he spoke ; and I assent, in all its breadth, to the statement of St. Paul, that it was "by faith" that "Joseph, when he died, made mention of the departing of the children of Israel." But we have not yet spoken of Jo- seph's giving " commandment concern- ing his bones ;" and this is far too me- morable a circumstance to be passed over without special comment. We must refer to the Book of Genesis, in order to see what the commandment was. There you read, "And Joseph took an oath of the children of Israel, saying, God will surely visit you, and ye shall carry up my bones from hence." The oath was remembered and kept ; for it is expressly recorded, in the ac- count of the departure of the Israelites from Egypt, " And Moses took the bones of Joseph with him." Neither were these bones neglected in the wil- derness :• they must have been religi- ously preserved during all the wander- ings of the people ; for you read in the Book of Joshua, " And the bones ot Joseph, which the children of Israel brought up out of Egypt, buried they in Shechem." It appears from these historical no- tices, when joined with the reference made by St. Paul in our text, that great importance is attached by inspired wri- ters to the fact of Joseph's giving com- mandment concerning his bones. And the fact certainly deserves the being carefully pondered, though you may have been used to pass it over with but little attention. It would seem that Joseph was never buried in Egypt ; for, after mentioning the oath which ht took of his brethren, the Book of Gene- sis concludes with saying, "SoJosepl: died, being an hundred and ten years old: and they embalmed him, and he was put in a coffin in Egypt." Whci you connect this statement with hi; dying injunction, and with the fact THE FAITH OF JOSEPH ON HIS DEATH-BED. 435 that, though the Israelites were thrust out in haste from the land, they carried Avith them the remains of the patriarch, you can hardly doubt that the body of Joseph, when embalmed, was kept un- buried amongst his people, and that its being so kept was included in his part- ing injunction. And this is the more remarkable, inasmuch as no reason can be given why Joseph, had he wished it, might not at once have been buried in Canaan. When one reads of his giv- ing "commandment concerning his bones," the obvious feeling is, tl^t, with that desire which seems instinct- ive to man, the desire that our dust should mingle with that of those whom we have loved and lost, Joseph gave directions for his being laid in the same grave with his father and mother. But, had this been all, why was not his body at once carried into Canaan? When Jacob died, " all the servants of Phara- oh, the elders of his house, and all the elders of the land of Egypt, and all the house of Joseph, and his brethren, and bis father's house," went up, and in- terred him, according to his wish, "in the cave of the field of Machpelah." So vast was the funeral pomp, that, "when the inhabitants of the land, the Canaanites, saw the mourning in the floor of Atad, they said, This is a griev- ous mourning to the Egyptians: where- fore the name of it was called Abel- niizraim, which is beyond Jordan." Surely, if such were the interment of Jacob, that of Joseph would not have been less honored: had he commanded his brethren, as he had been command- ed by his father, "In my grave which I have digged for me in the land of Canaan, there shalt thou bury me," we may not doubt that the Egyptians would not only have permitted the fu- neral, but have graced his obsequies with all that could give splendor to death. It follows, therefore, that it was not merely interment in Canaan which Jo- seph desired : it was expressly his wish, that the interment should be deferred until the children of Israel departed from Egypt, and that then should his bones be carried up to the land which 'lad been promised to Abraham. In short, the " commandment concerning lis bones," which St. Paul adduces in iroof of Joseph's faith, would seem to have been a commandment that his bones should lie unburied whilst the Israelites were in Egypt, and be buried when they took possession of Canaan. But what was there in this which spe- cially proved faith 1 What evidence does the commandment v/hich Joseph gave " concerning his bones," add to that furnished by the mention which he made "of the departing of the chil- dren of Israel V Here is a point wor- thy of all your attention, though there will be no great difficulty in finding a satisfactory answer. Why, think ye, did Joseph wish to lie unburied in the midst of his people, except that his bones might perpetual- ly preach to them, that Egypt was not to be their home, but must be abandon- ed for Canaan 1 The very lesson which, with his dying breath, he labored to enforce — the lesson, that they were to be expecting to depart from the coun- try which had received and sustained them, this lesson he longed to enforce after death, knowing, as he did, that his brethren and children would be likely to forget it. But how shall he accomplish this"? What means are in his power of continuing to preach a great truth, when he shall have been ac- tually withdrawn out of life 1 Let his bones lie unburied, unburied because they wait the being carried up to Ca- naan, and will there not be an abiding memento to the Israelites, a standing remembrancer, that, sooner or later, the Lord will effect their removal, and transplant them to the land v\?hich He promised to their fathers'? It is in this way that we interpret the command- ment of Joseph. You have heard of the preaching of a spectre : the spirit that passed before the face of Eliphaz, and caused the hair of his flesh to stand up, came from the invisible world to give emphasis, as well as utterance, to the question, " Shall mortal man be more just than God? shall a man be more just than his Maker 1" And here you have, not the preaching of a spec- tre, but the preaching of a skeleton : the bones of Joseph are converted into an orator, and make "mention o( the departing of the children of Israel." The patriarch could no longer warn and command his brethren and de- scendants with the voice of a livino- man : his tongue was mute in death : 436 THE FAITH OF JOSEPH ON HIS DEATH-BED but there was eloquence in his sepul- chred limbs. Wherefore had he not been gathered to his fathers'? what meant this strange spectacle in the midst of a people, the spectacle of a corpse to which a grave seemed deni- ed, and which was kept, as though by some wild mysterious spell, from going down with others to the chambers of death 1 It was a dead thing, which ne- vertheless appeared reluctant to die: it seemed to haunt the earth in its lifelessness, as though it had not fin- ished the office for which it had been born, as though it had yet some awful duty to perform, ere it could be suffer- ed to mingle quietly with the dust whence it sprung. And since it could not fail to be known for what purpose the body of one, so honored and rever- ed, lay unburied year after year — even for that of being removed by the Isra- elites, when God should visit them, and transplant them from Egypt, — did not Joseph's bones perpetually repeat his dying utterances'! and could any thing- better have been devised to keep up the remembrance of what his last words had taught, than this his sub- sistence as a skeleton, when he had long ceased to be numbered with the living'? There can hardly then be two opin- ions, that the bones of Joseph, thus re- served for interment in Canaan, became virtually a preacher to the people of the very truth which he had died in the effort to enforce. But what addi- tional evidence of his faith was there in his giving "commandment concern- ing his bones "?" The very greatest. It is one thing to preach a doctrine dur- ino- life: it is another to be eager to preach it after death. See ye not this'? see ye not that the faith, which might be strong enough to" urge to the advo- cacy of an opinion now, might not be strong enough to urge to the taking measures for its advocacy a hundred years hence'? A man might have his misgivings : he might say to himself, " Perhaps, when I am dead, something v/ill arise to prove me in the wrong ; Avhy then should I strive to keep the opinion from being forgotten, when events will have transpired to show it erroneous'? If the opinion be true, others will arise to maintain it ; if false, why should my belief in it be made, through mine own act, to survive its being exploded? Better surely for me to teach what I think true whilst I live, but not to stake my credit, when dead, j on propositions which time may dis- prove." We are thus persuaded, that, if you consider attentively, you cannot fail to allow it a strong additional evidence!^of a man's belief in a tenet, when, over and above proclaiming it whilst he lives, he labors to bring about that he may proclaim it when dead. I would pmach, if I might, after death. I would not b^ silent, if I knew how to speak, when the grave shall have received me, and another shall stand to minister in my place. I Avould still repeat the truths which I now strive habitually to press on men's attention. But why? Because I am confident of their being truths: because I have no misgivings; because I have not even the shadow of a suspicion, that, happen what may, Christianity can be proved false, and the Bible a fiction. If I had, I should be proportionally reluctant to the preaching after death; my anxiety to utter truth would make me shrink from the possibility of being found hereafter giving utterance to falsehood." And to show this more clearly by a particular instance, which shall be near- ly parallel to that in our text. There are declarations in the Bible, that the Lord, whom the heavens'have received, shall come forth personally, in glory and great majesty, and revisit this earth to claim its dominion. There are also predictions as to the time of this splendid manifestation, though not so explicit but that men may widely differ as to when it shall be. Suppose that by the study of unfulfilled prophe- cy, I satisfy myself as to the date of Christ's coming, fixing it to seventy,, or eighty, or a hundred years hence. Suppose that, so long as I live, I keep asserting to you this date, you will conclude that I believe it myself. Sup- pose that, when I come to die, I gather you around me, and solemnly declare that at the said time the Lord will re- appear, you will be more than ever convinced of my belief: dying men have little interest in deceiving; and though you may not be a jot the more persuaded that my opinion is true, there will be scarcely room for doubt Ji THE FAITH OF JOSEPH ON HIS DEATH-BED. 437 as to my sincerity in holding it. But suppose something more : suppose tiiat, as 1 die, I give directions for the erect- ing of a monument, to be reared in the very scene of my labors, and inscribed with the very date on which I had so resolutely fixed. I should thus be tak- ing all possible pains to keep my opin- ion before your eyes, and those of your children ; to keep it, when things might have occurred to prove it false, when it might be nothing but a regis- ter of my ignorance and mistake : and would not this be the crowning, the insurpassable evidence of the strength of my faith 1 if I had the slightest suspicion, or fear, that the event might prove me wrong, would I ever take measures for identifying my name with error and delusion 'I And this just illustrates the case of Joseph's giving ''commandment con- cerning his bones." There was no proof, in his giving this commandment, that the children of Israel would de- part out of Egypt, even as there would be none in my directions for a monu- ment, that the Redeemer would appear at the specified time. But there was a very strong proof, that Joseph believ- ed that the Israelites would depart out of Egypt, just as there would be that I believed that Christ would come on the day which I had named. And it is sim- ply in illustration of the power of Jo- seph's faith, that St. Paul quotes his giving "commandment concerning his bones." The illustration is therefore most appropriate. There were long years — as probably Joseph was aware — years of wo and oppression, to pass over Israel ere there would come that visitation of the Lord, which his dying words affirmed. And during this drea- ry period it would seem to the Isra- elites as though they w^ere forgotten of their God, as though his promise had come utterly to an end, and they were doomed to remain in the house of bondage for ever. What, then, more likely than that whatever reminded them of the alleged purpose of God would be treated by them with loath- ing and scorn; and that, whether it were the dead or the living who pre- dicted their departure, the mention would excite only hatred and derision 1 Yet Joseph was not to be moved by any of this likelihood. Why not ? Be- cause his faith was too strong ; he was too confident in God's word to allow of his taking into account the possibi- lity of its failure. And therefore he did not hesitate to convert his bones into a perpetual preacher, or monu- ment, of that word. "I shall not leave you," he seems to say to his weeping kinsmen. " I die ; but this worn body has a high duty to accomplish, ere it may enjoy the still slumber of the grave. I leave it to preach to you that God will yet bring you up from Egypt ' with a mighty hand, and a stretched out arm.' You, or your children, may be disposed to insult my remains, when oppression shall grow, and deliverance be deferred. But I know how all this will terminate. Mine eye, over which the film of death is fast gathering, is on a mighty procession, the proces- sion of thousands, and tens of thou- sands, marching to the inheritance which God promised unto Abraham ; and in the midst of this procession shall these bones be triumphantly car- ried, their office done, to share with you the land of Canaan." Oh ! who can fail to see that Joseph thus fur- nished a far stronger proof of trust in God's word than is found in his mere assertion of what that word declared ] Who can deny that St. Paul added vastly to the illustration of the power of faith, when, after stating that "by faith" Joseph, when he died, "made mention of the departing of the chil- dren of Israel," he subjoined, "and gave commandment concerning his bones V But we ought not to fail to observe, before we quit the death-bed of Joseph, that, forasmuch as unquestionably the Spirit of God actuated the expiring pa- triarch, and perhaps dictated his words, the commandment as to his bones may have been designed to intimate, or il- lustrate, the truth of a resurrection. If you suppose, as you reasonably may, that they who surrounded the dying man considered his utterances as sug- gested by God, you will believe that they pondered them as fraught with information, conveying, probablj^^ no- tices upon points which had been but dimly, if at all, revealed. We need hardly observe to you, that, so far as the evidence of faith is concerned, it would be most conspicuous and con- vincing, on the supposition that Joseph 438 THE FAITH OF JOSEPH ON HIS DKATH-BED. had respect to the resurrection of his body. It may have been so. Why was he unwilling that his bones should rest in Egypt? Unwilling he evidently was ; for, allowing him to have desired their remaining unburied that they might re- mind the Israelites of their predicted departure, this is no reason why he should also have given directions for their being carried into Canaan. By remaining unburied he would have shown an anxiety to preach a great fact to his descendants ; but, by fur- ther desiring that, when this office was done, he might be buried in the pro- mised land, he evinced a care as to his place of sepulture, or showed that it was not indifferent to him what be- came of his body. Wherefore, then, we again ask, was he unwilling to be buried in Egypt] What had he to do with choosing where his bones should be laid, and that, too, on a far distant dayl I cannot but infer, from this anxiety of Joseph in regard to his grave, that he did not consider the body as a thing to be thrown aside so soon as the vital principle were ex- tinct. He felt that his dead body might live to admonish his countrymen; but he must also have felt that, even when that office were done, it was not to be treated as of no further worth. It mat- ters not whether it arise from a kind of natural instinct, or from the imme- diate suggestion of the Spirit of God — in all cases, care as to what becomes of the body, is evidence of a conscious- ness that the body is not finally to pe- rish at death. He who shows anxie- ty as to the treatment of his remains shows something of a belief, whether he confess it or not, that these remains are reserved for other purposes and scenes. I can hardly think that Joseph believed that his body would never live again: he would scarcely have pro- vided it a sepulchre in Canaan, if per- suaded that, in dying, it would be final- ly destroyed. His bones might as well have rested in Egypt, amongst those of the idolater and stranger, had they never been appointed, or had he not imagined them appointed, to the being brought up from the dust and again sinewed with life. But on the supposi- tion of a belief, or even the faintest conjecture, of a resurrection, we seem to understand why the dying patriarch longed to sleep in the promised land " I will not leave," he seems to say, i " this body to be disregarded, and j trampled on, as though it were mere- ly that of an animal whose existence wholly terminates at death. That which God takes care of, reserving it for an- other life, it becomes not man to de- spise, as though undeserving a thought. And though the eye of the Almighty would be on my dust in Egypt, as in Canaan, yet would I rather rest with the righteous than with the wicked in the grave, with my fathers and my kinsmen, than with the foreigner and the enemy. If I am to start from long and dark slumber, let those who wake with me be those whom I have loved, and who are to share with me the un- known existence." Such, we say, is an interpretation which might fairly be put on Joseph's giving " commandment concerning his bones." There may have floated before him visions of the grave giving up its dead. The yearnings of his parting spi- rit after Canaan ; the longing for inter- ment by the side of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; all may have risen from an indistinct thought that he was destin- ed to live again ; all may mark that, though life and immortality were not then brought to light, dim and spec- tral images flitted to and fro, shadowy forms, as of the decayed and the dead, mysteriously reconstructed and reani- mated. And if they who stood around Joseph recognized, as they must have done in the last words of Jacob, the dictates of the Almighty himself, then may we say that the " commandment concerning his bones" amounted to a Divine intimation of the truth of a re- surrection. Whatever showed that God willed that the dead body should be cared for, that he would not have it thrown aside as utterly done with, went also to the showing that the body was still to be of use, and that, therefore, its resurrection was designed. Hence, it may be that from the death-bed of Joseph sprang, in a measure, that per- suasion of a resurrection, which gradu- ally wrought itself into the creed of the children of Israel. His " command- ment concerning his bones," kept so long in mind, and associated with a great crisis in the national history, may have produced attention, not only to ANGELS AS KEMEMBRANCERS. 439 the departure from Egypt, but to a far mightier departure — the departure of myriads from the sepulchres of the earth, after long enthralment under a sterner than Pharaoh. I feel as if it were to attach surprising interest to Joseph's last words, to suppose that they showed his own thought, and gave notice to others, of the resurrection of the body. This makes his death-bed that almost of a Christian. It is not a Christian thing, to die manifesting in- difference as to what is done with the body. That body is redeemed : not a particle of its dust but was bought with drops of Christ's precious blood. That body is appointed to a glorious condi- tion : not a particle of the corruptible but what shall put on incorruption ; of the mortal that shall not assume im- mortality. The Christian knows this : it is not the part of a Christian to seem unmindful of this. He may, therefore, as he departs, speak of the place where he would wish to be laid. " Let me sleep," he may say, " with my father and my mother, with my wife and my children : lay me not here, in this dis- tant land, where my dust cannot mingle with its kindred. I would be chimed to my grave by my own village bell, and have my requiem sung where I was baptized into Christ." Marvel ye at such last words'? Wonder ye that one, whose spirit is just entering the sepa- rate state, should have this care for the body which he is about to leave to the worms'? Nay, he is a believer in Jesus as " the Eesurrection and the Life :" this belief prompts his dying words ; and it shall have to be said of him, as of Joseph, that " by faith," yea, '' by faith," he " gave commandment concerning his bones." SERMON II. ANGELS AS REMEMBRANCERS. " He is not here, Init is risen : remember how he spake unto you, when he was yet in Galilee, saviiifc, The Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and bo crucified, and the third duy rise again. And they remembered his words." — St. Luke, 24 : 6, 7, 8. It was a saying of Luther, nnd one which is often quoted amongst our- selves, ''that the doctrine of justifica- tion by faith is the doctrine of a stand- ing or a falling church." The meaning of the saying is, that so vitally import- ant, so essential to the very existence of a christian communitj"^, is the doc- trine of justification by faith, that you may always judge whether a church is in a healthful or a declining condi- ition, by the tenacity with which this doctrine is maintained, and the clear- ness with which it is expounded. We have no wish to dispute the truth of the saying; for, beyond all question, there can be real Christianity only where there is a distinct recognition of the fact, that " a man is justified by faith without the deeds of the law." But, nevertheless, if we were to fix on any one doctrine, as furnishing pre- eminently a test by Avhich to try the condition of a church, we should be disposed to take that of spiritual influ- ences, rather than that of justification by faith. We cannot but think that he who fails to recognize, in all its free- 440 ANGELS AS REMEMBKANCERS. ness, that we are "justified by faith," must first have failed to recognize, in all humility, that " we are not suffi- cient of ourselves to think any thing, as of ourselves." It would seem to fol- low, in natural consequence, from our fancying ourselves independent on su- pernatural teaching, that we should fancy ourselves capable, in a measure, of contributing to our justification ; so that, at all events, he who practically forgets that the Holy Spirit can alone guide into truth, is likely to be soon landed in error on the fundamental points of a sinner's acceptance. And whether or not the doctrine of spiri- tual influences be the better test to apply, in attempting to determine the condition of a church, there can, at least, be no doubt that where piety is flourishing, this doctrine will be deep- ly cherished ; where declining, com- paratively neglected. The individual christian will '' grow in grace," in pro- portion as he depends on the teaching of the Holy Spirit, and habituates him- self to the turning to this divine agent for guidance, comfort, and instruction in .righteousness. And any branch of the Catholic Church will, in like man- ner, be vigorous and fruitful, in pro- portion as it honors the third Person in the ever-blessed Trinity, distinctly recognizing that his influences alone can make the work of the Second ef- fectual to salvation. But when we speak of spiritual influ- ence, we are far from wishing to con- fine the expression to the influences of the Holy Ghost, as though no other spiritual agency were brought to bear upon man. We desire to extend it to created, though invisible, beings — to angels, whether evil or good — believ- ing, on the authority of Scripture, that there are such beings, and that they continually act on us by a secret, but most efiicient, power. And where there is a tolerably distinct recognition of the person and office of the Holy Ghost, there may be a comparative forgetful- ness, if not an actual denial, of angelic ministrations; and our conviction is, that much of comfort in religion is lost, and much of coldness produced, through the little heed given to spiritual influ- ences, thus more largely understood. It will hardly be denied that the mass of christians think little, if at all, of angels ; that they regard them as be- ings so far removed from companion- ship with ourselves, that discourse oa their nature and occupation must de- serve the character of unprofitable speculation. If, then, the preacher take as his theme the burning spirits which surround God's throne, he will proba- bly be considered as adventuring upon mysteries too high for research, whilst there is abundance of more practical topics on which he might enlarge. Yet it cannot have been intended that we should thus remain ignorant of angels : it cannot be true that there is nothing to be ascertained in regard of these creatures, or nothing which it is for our instruction, or our comfort, to know. There is a petition in the Lord's prayer which should teach us better than this — " Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven." It must be special- ly by angels that God's will is done in heaven ; and if we are directed to take the manner, or degree, in which angels do God's will, as measuring that in which we should desire its being done by men, surelj'^ it can neither be beyond our power to know any thing of angels, nor unimportant that we study to be wise up to what is written regarding them in the Bible. And, indeed, so far is Scripture from leaving angelic min- istrations amongst obscure, or inscru- table, things, that it interweaves it with the most encouraging of its promises, and thus strives, as it were, to force it upon us as a practical and personal truth. Whore is the christian that has not been gladdened by words such as these, "Because thou hast made the Lord, who is my refuge, even the Most High, thy habitation, there shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling 1" But of those to whom these words speak cheering- ly, how few, perhaps, give attention to the following verse, though evidently explanatory of the agency through which the promise shall be accom- plished! "for he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways." And it ought not to be overlooked, that, in proportion as we lose sight of the doctrine, that good angels arc "ministering spirits," influencing us for righteousness, we are likely to for get the power of our great " adversary, ANGELS AS REBIEMBRANCERS. 441 the devil," who, with the hosts under his guidance, continually labors at ef- fecting our destruction. It can hardly be that thej'', who are keenly alive to their exposure to the assaults of ma- lignant, but invisible, enemies, should be indifferent to the fact of their hav- ing on their side the armies of Heaven : good and evil spirits must be consider- ed as antagonists in a struggle for ascendency over man ; and there is, therefore, more than a likelihood, that they who think little of their friends in so high a contest, will depreciate their foes, and thus more than ever expose themselves to their power. We cannot, then, put from us the opinion that the doctrine of angelic ministrations hardly obtains its due share of attention, and that it ought to be pressed, with greater frequency and urgency, by the ministers of Christ, on those committed to their care. There is, indeed, a risk, that he who sets him- self to discourse on those orders of intelligent being which stretch up- wards between God and man, may in- dulge in fanciful speculation, and for- get, amid the brilliancies opened up to ihis imagination, that he is bound ex- [clusively to seek the profit of his hear- jers. But there is little fear of his pass- iing the limits of what is sober and in- istructive, so long as he confines him- ;self to what is written in Scripture, and fixes on certain prominent facts which lie beyond dispute, because ex- iplicitly revealed. It is this which we purpose doing in our present discourse. We wish, indeed, to impress upon you that a spiritual agency is ever at work on your behalf, understanding by spi- ritual agency not merely that of the Ao\y Ghost, to which every other must >e necessarily subordinate, but that of hose orders of being which are desig- lated in Scripture by the general term angels," and which kept thtir 'Mirst jstate" when numbers of like nature .'rvith themselves were cast out from : lieaven as rebels against God. But, at Ihe same time, wc are very anxious to dvance nothing which shall not have criptural warrant for its truth, and .hich shall not, moreover, present >mcthing practical on which you may isten. Let us see, then, whether the assage which we have taken as our xt, will not enable us to illustrate, thus soberly and profitably, the truth, that angels are " ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation." Now you will judge at once, from this introduction to our subject, that we do not purpose speaking on the fact of the resurrection of Christ, though this fact, as matter both of pro- phecy and history, seems exclusively treated of. in the words of our text. What we want you to observe is, that these words were spoken by two an- gels, who appeared to the women that were early at the sepulchre ; for, though it is said in the chapter before us, " two men stood by them in shining garments," you readily find, from a comparison of the Gospels, that the human form was here assumed by hea- venly beings ; that they were spirits who, in the likeness of flesh, accosted the women as they sought in vain for the body of Christ. It is not here to be proved that there are such beings as angels ; neither have we to show that they arc endowed with great might ; for not only is St. Matthew's descrip- tion of the apparition of the men, that " the angel of the Lord descended from heaven;" but he adds, that "his coun- tenance was like lightning, and his rai- ment white as snow : for fear of him the keepers did shake, and became as dead men." But assuming, as we safe- ly may, the facts of the ministration and power of angels, there is some- thing very remarkable in the circum- stance that the angels, in the case now before us, reminded the women of something which had been said to them by Christ, and that, too, in a re- mote place, " whilst he was yet with them in Galilee." How came these angels to be so well acquainted with what had been said by Christ to the women 1 They speak of it with the greatest familiarity, as though they had themselves heard the prediction : they call it to the remembrance of the women, just as one of you might re- mind his neighbor, or friend, of parts of a sermon at whose delivery both had been present. We do not, indeed, profess to say that the angels might not have been distinctlj'^ informed as to what Christ had uttered in Galilee ; that they might not have been instruct- ed, by immediate revelation, as to ^6 442 ANGELS AS REMEMBRANCERS, things which had passed when them- selves were not present to see or to hear. But neither, on the other hand, can any one say that the angels did not gain their knowledge from having been actually amongst the audience of Christ ; whilst the supposition of their having heard for themselves, agrees best with the tone of their address, and is certainly in keeping with other state- ments of Scripture. For if we gather, from the fami- liar manner in which the angels quote Christ's sayings to the women, that they, as well as the women, had been present when those sayings were ut- tered, we only infer — what may be proved the doctrine of the Bible — that angels are actually, though invisibly, in the midst of our worshipping assem- blies, witnesses of our deportment, and hearers of that Gospel to which, too often, Ave give so languid an attention. This would seem to be the doctrine of St. Paul, when he speaks to the Ephe- sians of the preaching of the Gospel, as " to the intent that now, unto the princi- palities and powers in heavenly places, might be known by the Church the manifold wisdom of God." Here the Church, in and through her public mi- nistrations, is represented as furnish- ing instruction to angelic orders of being, as though these lofty creatures came down to her solemn assemblies, not only as observers, but as seeking lessons for themselves in mysteries which, beforetime, they had vainly striven to explore. And when the same Apostle exhorts the Corinthian women to have a modest veil, or covering, over their heads, in theii; religious meetings, he persuades them by this very consi- deration, that they appeared in the pre- sence of the angels — " because of the angels," — and thus gives all the sanc- tion of his authority to the opinion, that angels are amongst us when we gather together for public Avorship. This, then, is the first conclusion, a conclusion borne out by other state- ments of Scripture, Avhich Ave derive from the familiar acquaintance Avhich the angels manifest with what Christ had said to the Avomen in Galilee ; namely, that angels are present when the Gospel is preached : angels had in all likelihood been present Avhen the Redeemer announced his death and re- surrection ; and we may believe that, similarly, as the proclamation of re- demption is noAV solemnly and statedly made, there are other auditors besides those whom our senses can discern ; that, like the prophet's servant, Ave need only the purging and strengthen- ing of our vision, and in addition to the breathing masses of our fellow-men, Ave should presently ascertain the place of our assembling to be thronged Avith burning forms, those stately intelli- gences which are "^^the ministers of God," executing his Avill throughout his vast and replenished dominion. And Ave need hardly stay to point out to you Avhat an additional solemnity this should cast over these our gather- ings in the house of the Lord 3 for it must commend itself to you all, that the being actually under the observa- tion of the heavenly hosts, the having in the midst of us, as inspectors of Avhat passes, a multitude of glorious creatures, the cherubim and seraphim that are permitted to enter the imme- diate presence of God himself, should greatly tend to the banishing from amongst us all that is cold and frivol- ous and listless, and to the keeping us in that attitude of reverent attention Avhich should be always assumed, yet is often Avanting, Avhere men profess to seek an audience of their Maker. But we Avisli specially to impress upon you a purpose for Avhich angels may be present at the preaching of the Gospel, and Avhich may be taken as il- lustrating generally the nature of their ministrations on our behalf. We ga- ther at once, from our Lord's parable of the soAver, as expounded by Him- self, that Satan busily endeavors to counteract the preaching of the Gos- pel ; for it is said, in explanation of the seed sown by the Avay-side, " When any one heareth the Avord of the king- dom, and underslandeth it not, then cometh the Avicked one, and catcheth away that Avhich was sown in his heart." There is no interpretation to be put upon this, save that the devil is ever Avatching the elTect Avrought by the delivery of the Avord, and that, Avith an earnestness only equalled by his malice, he labors to thwart it Avhen- soever it threatens to be injurious to his poAver. And if evil angels be thus present at the preaching of the Gospel, ANGELS AS REMEMBRANCERS. 443 in the hope of making it ineffectual, why should we doubt that good angels are present, to strive to gain it place, and give it impressivenessl Present, we have every assurance that they are ; and if we consider that, throughout Scripture, good and evil angels are re- presented as engaged in a struggle, a struggle for ascendency over man, we must believe that the efforts of the one are met by precisely antagonist efforts on the part of the others, every mine having its countermine ; so that if they who are against us labor to catch away the word, they who are for us labor to imprint it, to procure for it a hold and grasp upon the hearers. And this gives something of a prac- tical and tangible character to that high contest which is going forwards be- tween " principalities and powers." We need not lose ourselves in endeavoring to image the shock of spiritual intel- ligences, meeting on some field of far- distant space, with all the emblazonry of celestial pomp, and in all the terri- bleness of super-human strength. It 1 may be thus that poetry loves to dwell ion the battles of angels; but theology has rather to do away with this mar- tial magnificence, to carry the war into the narrow domain of a single human heart, and there to give it the charac- ter of a moral conflict, a struggle be- tween principles, supported and press- ed by the opposite parties which ap- pear as combatants, and engage in the championship, whether of falsehood or truth. The very place of our present assembling is a scene for the hostile imeeting of evil angels and good; and there is not one of you who does not himself furnish a field for that strife between invisible powers, which Scrip- itural imagery invests with the myste- Iriousness that belongs to the vast and inscrutable. As the preacher sets be- fore you your sinfulness, and, exhort- jing you to amendment, shows you the brovision made by God for your par- lion and acceptance, the words which le utters are just as weapons, on which he combatants labor to seize; the evil mgels that they may blunt and throw hem away, the good that they may hrust them into the understanding, ' Itid the conscience, and the heart. But, hen, let it never be overlooked that fe are ourselves answerable for the L issue of this struggle ; that neither good angels, nor evil, can carry their end, except so far as they have us for auxiliaries. It were of all things the easiest, to make the contest, of which we are the objects, an excuse for our remaining indifferent to the Gospel, pleading that it rested with those who professed to fight our cause, to gain for it admission into the recesses of the soul. But exactly as we are not to "grieve the Holy Spirit," and, in pro- portion as we grieve Him, must expect his influences to be less powerfully put forth on our behalf, so are we to take heed to second good angels, who can but be instruments which the Holy Spirit employs; and to expect that the Gospel will lay hold on the heart, in proportion as we strive to clear away prejudice, and to receive it with docili- ty and meekness. And if you want proof how much may be lost through deficiency in that heedfulness which would aid good an- gels in their endeavors to give effect to the word, it is furnished by what we know of the women whom such angels address in the text. There could appa- rently have been nothing plainer than the preaching of our blessed Savior, in regard of his own death and resurrec- tion. He announced, in simple, une- quivocal terms, that he should be«cru- cified by his enemies, but that on the third day he would rise from the dead ; and angels, as it now seems, were pre- sent to imprint his words on the minds of the hearers, to prevent their being carried away, as the seed is carried which falls by the way-side. But the followers of the Redeemer had their minds preoccupied by prejudices ; they were still looking for a temporal deliv- erer, and could not tolerate the men- tion of an ignominious death, for they associated with it the overthrow of long-cherished hopes. Hence, there was no seconding of good angels, but rather a distinct taking part with evil ; and consequently the words, which might have been remembered, and could not have been misunderstood, even by a child, appear to have been completely obliterated, so that the hearers remained with as little expec- tation of what was coming on their Lord, as though he had never fore- warned them, or forewarned them only 444 ANGELS AS REMEMBRANCERS. in dubious and mystical terms. When, therefore, the time of trial came, it vir- tually found them wholly unprepared ; and the death of Jesus as actually de- molished their hopes as if he had not told them that it should be rapidly fol- lowed by his resurrection. The wo- men, who, had they but remembered and believed, might have come to the sepulchre, rejoicing in the assurance that it could not long hold its prey, came weeping and disheartened, bring- ing with them spices to anoint the body which they supposed would remain an inmate of the grave. And it might well have made them shed tears over their own darkness and unbelief, even in the midst of their gladness at the triumph won over death, that the angels, in prov- ing to them the resurrection, had only to adduce words which should have prevented their seeking "the living among the dead ;" that they had sim- ply to say to them, " Remember how he spake unto you, when he was yet with you in Galilee." But now it should be more carefully observed, that this reminding the wo- men of what had been said to them by Christ, is probably but an example of what continually occurs in the minis- tration of angels. The great object of our discourse is to illustrate this mi- nisti&tion, to give it something of a tangible character ; and we gladly seize on the circumstance of the angels re- calling to the minds of the w^omen things which had been heard, because it seems to place under a practical point of view what is too generally considered mere useless speculation. And though we do not indeed look for any precise repetition of the scene given in our text, for angels do not now take visible shapes in order to commune with men, we know not why we should not ascribe to angelic mi- nistration facts accurately similar, if not as palpably proceeding from su- pernatural agency. We think that we shall be borne out by the experience of every believer in Christ, when we affirm that texts of Scripture are often suddenly and mysteriously brought into the mind ; texts which have not per- haps recently engaged our attention, but which are most nicely suited to our circumstances, or which furnish most precisely the material then need- ed by our wants. There will enter into the spirit of a christian, on whom has fallen some unexpected temptation, a passage of the Bible which is just as a weapon wherewith to foil his assailant; or if it be an unlooked-for difficulty into which he is plunged, the occurring verses will be those best adapted for counsel and guidance ; or if it be some fearful trouble with which he is visit- ed, then will there pass through all the chambers of the soul gracious declara- tions, which the inspired writers will seem to have uttered and registered on purpose for himself. And it may be that the christian will observe nothing peculiar in this : there may appear to him nothing but an effort of memory, roused and acted on by the circum- stances in which he is placed ; and he may consider it as natural, that suita- ble passages should throng into his mind, as that he should remember an event at the place where he knows it to have happened. But let him ask himself whether he is not, on the other hand, often con- scious of the intrusion into his soul of what is base and defiling 1 Whether, if he happen to have heard the jeer and the blasphemy, the parody on sacred things, or the insult upon moral, they will not be frequently recurring to his mind 1 recurring too at moments when there is least to provoke them, and when it had been most his endeavor to gather round him an atmosphere of what is sacred and pure. And we never scruple to give it as matter of consola- tion to a christian, harassed by these vile invasions of his soul, that he may justly ascribe them to the agency of the devil : Avicked angels inject into the mind the foul and polluting quota- tion ; and there is not necessarily any sin in receiving it, though there must be if we give it entertainment, in place of casting it instantly out. But why should we be so ready to go for expla- nation to the power of memory, and the force of circumstances, when apposite texts occur to the mind, and then re- solve into Satanic agency the profana- tion of the spirit with what is blasphe- mous and base 1 It were far more con- sistent to admit a spiritual influence in the one case as well as in the other; to suppose, that, if evil angels syllable^ to the soul what may have been heard I ANGELS AS REMEMBRANCERS. 445 or read of revolting and impure, good angels breathe into its recesses the sa- cred words, not perhaps recently pe- rused, but which apply most accurate- ly to our existing condition. It is ex- pressly said of the devil, that he is " the spirit that worketh in the children of disobedience," as though he not mere- ly had access to their minds, but took up his abode there, that he might car- ry on, as in a citadel, the war and the stratagem. And if evil angels have such power over the thoughts of men for evil, it seems unreasonable to question that good angels have as great influ- ence over them for good ; that they too work in the children of obedience, and are mainly instrumental in calling up and marshalling those solemn proces- sions of sacred remembrances which pass, with silent tread, through the chambers of the spirit, and leave on them the impress of their pureness and power. We do not wish to draw you away, in the least degree, from the truth, that " the eternal uncreated Spirit of God alone, the Holy Ghost, is the author of our sanctification, the infuser into us of the principle of divine life, and He j only is able to overrule our wills, to i penetrate the deepest secrets of our j hearts, and to rectify our most inward I faculties."* But surely it does not in- 1 fringe the office of the Holy Ghost, to suppose, with Bishop Bull, that " good angels may, and often do, as instru- I ments of the Divine goodness, power- ' fully operate upon our fancies and ima- ginations, and thereby prompt us to pi- ous thoughts, affections, and actions." They were angels, as you will remem- ber, which came and ministered to our Lord after He had been exposed in the wilderness to extraordinary assaults from the devil. He had the Spirit without measure ; but, nevertheless, as though to mark to us the agency which this Spirit is often pleased to employ, : it was in and through angels that con- solation was imparted ; even as, in the dread hour of his last conflict with the powers of darkness, "there appear- ed an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him." And with every admission of the abundant comfort contained in the truth, that a Divine * Bishop Bull. person, even the Holy Ghost, is con- tinually engaged with observing our course, and promoting our welfare, we cannot but feel that it makes this truth more tangible, or brings it more home to our perception, to suppose such be- ings as angels employed by the Holy Ghost to carry on his work. You know practically what comfort there is in the thought of its being in human form that the Second Person of the Trinity discharges the offlce of Intercessor : we should be quite lost in approaching Him, were it merely as God that He ministers above ; but we are more at home, and we feel greatly assured, in having, so to speak, a created medium, through which to draw nigh. And what is thus true of the work of intercession, carried on by the Se- cond Person, is true also, in its mea- sure, of the work of sanctification, which appertains specially to the Third. We can better apprehend this work, when we associate with it a created though subordinate agency ; and that, which might seem vague and indefinite, if referred wholly to one infinite and inapproachable Being, commends itself to us, both as actually going forward, and as beautifully fitted to our weak- ness and wants, when we know it ef- fected, through the instrumentality of creatures higher indeed and far more glorious than ourselves, but neverthe- less creatures who have themselves known what moral danger is, and who can therefore rejoice, with ineffable gladness, over one sinner who turns from the error of his ways. That I cannot see these angels busying them- selves with the work of my sanctifica- tion, is no more an argument against there being comfort in the fact, than is my not seeing the glorified humanity of Christ, against the encouragement which it gives as to the work of inter- cession. In both cases I believe that there is a something created, and therefore a something not too far re- moved from myself, which is engaged in ministrations for my good ,• and thus, in both cases, there has been a conde- scension to the weakness of my nature, and God may be said to have come near to me without the blaze of his celestial effltlgence, that his terror micrht not make me afraid. Job, 3'.i : 7. Not only tlicrcforu can I regard it 446 ANGELS AS REMEMBRANCERS. as credible, that angels stir up our tor- pid memories, and bring truths to our recollection, as they did to the women at the sepulchre of Christ, — I can re- joice in it as fraught with consolation, because showing that a created instru- mentality is used by the Holy Ghost in the renewing our nature. And surely it may well excite gladness, that there is around the christian the guardian- ship of heavenly hosts ; that, whilst his pathway is thronged by malignant spir- its, whose only effort is to involve him in their everlasting shame, it is also thronged by ministers of grace, who long to have him as their companion in the presence of God ; for there is thus what we might almost dare to call a visible array of power on our side, and we may take all that confidence which should result from being actually per- mitted to look on the antagonists, and to see that there are more with us than there are against. We will not debate whether other and satisfactory solu- tions may be given of the fact which has furnished our illustration of angelic ministration, but we doubt whether any can be more scriptural ; and whilst it agrees so well with their general of- fice, and is so fitted to strengthen us in our pilgrimage, we shall venture to re- gard angels as God's remembrancers to man. And they may talk to me of the tenacity of memory, and the force of circumstances — the tenacity of me- mory, which will often hardly serve us from day to day, but lets slip a hun- dred things which we longed to retain ! the force of circumstances, which, ordinarily, save where there exists great presence of mind, bewilder and perplex, rather than suggest the fitting and appropriate ! Yea, they may talk of the tenacity of memory, and the force of circumstances, and think to explain from such elements that recur- rence to the mind of suitable texts, that sudden resurrection of forgotten pas- sages of Scripture, at the very moment when they apply with greatest accura- cy, which every christian is conscious of in himself, and which he will find exemplified in the experience of others. We have a better way of accounting for the phenomenon ; a better, inas- much as (were there nothing else to be said) it leaves to the aged the consola- tion of knowing that memory mny de- cay, and yet the Bible not depart from their minds. And who has not seen this exhibited in the aged % The grey-head- ed christian, when he has almost for- gotten even the faces of friends, will yet familiarly quote the sayings of Scripture. We have then, we say, a better way of explaining the phenome- non. We ascribe it to the suggestings of those " ministering spirits," which wait on the " heirs of salvation," that texts and passages of Holy Writ come so mysteriously, but appropriately, in- to the mind. Oh, it is not the burning and beautiful imagery of poetry alone, which would people the air, and make it melodious with the voices of invisi- ble beings. After all, there is more of real poetry in the facts of theology, than in the finest excursions of the hu- man imagination. I believe, I do not fancy, that there are silent whisperings to the soul from spiritual creatures: the texts which rise up so wonderful- ly in the hour whether of temptation or of sorrow, as though made for the occasion, are actually the utterances of guardian beings ; and if there were more of a demonstration to the senses, than when passages occur to ourselves, I know not why we should think there was a more literal suggestion of truth to the mind, in the scene presented by our text, when angels, appearing as men, said to the women that were early at the sepulchre, " Remember how he spake unto you, when he was yet with you in Galilee." But it is hardly possible to read these words of the angels, and not to feel how reproachfully they must have fall- en on the ears of the women! how they must have upbraided them with want of attention and of faith ! For had they but listened heedfully to what Christ had said, and had they but given due credence to his words, they would have come in triumph to welcome the living, in place of naournfully with spi- ces to embalm the dead. If it minister- ed to them gladness, to be told that their Lord had risen, it must have oc- casioned them sorrow to be reminded that he himself had foretold his resur- rection ; so that their presence at the tomb, bearing what they meant to evi- dence their love, spake of nothing more deeply than of the neglect with which they bad treated his words. It was well ANGELS AS REMEMBRANCERS. 447 for these women that they were thus taught their inattention and unbelief whilst it was not too late for repent- ance and confession. They might have been left to die in their forgetfulness; for there is nothing in their history to show that the strength of memory and the force of circumstances would have brought Christ's words to their re- membrance ; on the contrary, the emp- ty sepulchre, which you would have thought most likely to recall the words, had nothing but a bewildering effect; for you read, "they found the stone rolled away from the sepulchre, and they entered in, and found not the body of the Lord Jesus ; and it came to pass, as they were much perplexed therea- bout, behold, two men stood by them in shining garments." The circumstan- ces were precisely those which might have been expected to suggest the long-neglected sayings, and thus cause the truth to flash upon the mind : yet you see, that had there not been the angelic interference, the women would have had no explanation to give of the disappearance of the body of their Lord. And they might have been left ' without this interference ; suffered to 1 die with Christ's words as witnesses against them, witnesses which would have proved them inexcusable in not knowing that Messiah was to be cruci- fied for sin, but not suffered to see cor- jruption in the grave. But God dealt more graciously with these women than their inattention, or want of faith, had deserved; he caused the words to be brought to their re- membrance, whilst they might yet in- spire confidence, though they could hardly fail also to excite bitter contri- jlion. It is often thus with ourselves ; ;he appropriate text is made to recur o the mind ; but whilst we gather :'rom it an abundance of comfort, we ,ire forced to reproach ourselves for laving been cast down, or terrified, ivhen God had put such truths upon ecord as should have left no place or anxiety or doubt. If Christ be wa- :ened from his sleep, through our ter- or at the storm, he may not only re- uke the winds and the waves, but hide us at the same time as men " of ttle faith." May it not, however, be, that, where lerc has been wilful inattention to the word, there will not always occur this angelic recalling of it to the mind"? not, at least, whilst there is yet time for the laying it to heart 1 We dare not doubt this. And if the remem- bered words fall reproachfully on the ear, when we may yet make use of them for good, what, alas ! shall it be if the words be then only recalled, when there shall no longer be "place for repentance]" Our blessed Savior Himself, speaking of what shall be the process of judgment at the last dread- ful day, makes his word the great ac- cuser of all such as reject him. "He that rejecteth me, and receiveth not my words, hath one that judgeth him: the word that I have spoken, the same shall judge him in the last day." And when with this you connect the part which angels are to take ia the awful assize on the whole race of man ; for we read that "the angels shall come forth, and sever the wicked from among the just :" that " the Son of Man shall send forth his angels, and they shall gather out of his kingdom all things that offend, and them which do iniqui- ty, and shall cast them into a furnace of fire ;" — terrible thought, that the very beings who now watch over us as friends, good angels, not evil, shall bind up the offending, and cast them in- to Hell ! — when, we say, you connect Avhat Christ says of his word, with what He elsewhere says of angels ; the word, the condemning thing at the judgment, the angels, the ministers of vengeance ; you can hardly question that the office, which celestial beings performed towards the women at the resurrection of Christ, is one which they will yet perform towards multi- tudes, when the earth and the sea shall have given up their dead. Is it the sensualist who is being carried away in- to outer darkness 1 and wherefore is he speechless 1 The attendant angel hath said, " Remember how he spake unto you when he was yet with you upon earth ; Neither fornicators, nor adul- terers, nor effeminate, nor drunkards, shall inherit the kingdom of God.*" It is the word which judges him, and it is the angel which binds him. Is it the covetous on whom has been passed a sentence against Avhich he has nothing to urge 1 The angel hath said, " Re- member how he spake unto you, Co- 448 THE BURNING OF THE MAGICAL COOKS. vetousness, which is idolatry." Is it the proud "? ''Remember how he spake unto you, God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the lowly." Is it the careless and the indifferent 1 " Remem- ber how he spake unto you, What shall a man give in exchange for his soulV Is it the procrastinator, who had deferred tlie season of repen- tance 1 "Remember how he spake unto you, Behold, now is the accept- ed time ; behold, now is the day of salvation." In each and every case the Word may judge, and the angels may bind. O that this were well laid to heart by all in the present assembly ! We ven- ture to say that it happens to all of you to have passages of Scripture pow- erfully brought home to the mind — you know not by what agency, and you can- not, perhaps, account for the sudden in- trusion — but there they are ; passages which would dissuade you from some pursuit on which you are tempted to enter, or urge you to some duty which you are tempted to neglect. It is the voice of a guardian spirit, that spirit, perhaps, which, in holy baptism, was specially appointed to attend your course, which you should consider that you hear in these whispered pas- sages. Hearken ye diligently to this silent voice. Ye resist the Holy Ghost when ye resist the angel that would thus, by adducing ^Scripture, rebuke you, as the women were rebuked, for seeking "the living amongst the dead," the food of the soul amid the objects of sense. If, when secretly reminded of the truth, ye will give heed, and act forthwith on the suggested lesson — whether it prompt to prayer or to re- sistance, or to self-denial, or to amend- ment — we can promise you such as- sistance from above as shall carry you on towards the kingdom of Heaven. But if ye refuse, and turn a deaf ear, alas ! alas ! the voice may never again be heard on this side the grave. Yet the words have not perished ; the words cannot perish : again, again, shall they find a voice, but a voice which will be burdened with condemnation ; for thus shall it introduce at the judgment the lonrr-ueo-lected sayings, "Remember how he spake unto you, whilst he was yet with you upon earth." SERMON III. THE BURNING OF THE MAGICAL BOOKS. "Many of them also wliich iisnj curious nrts, bronghl tbcir books togi^ther, and liurnrd them before all men : and they counted the price of them, and found it fifty tliousand pieces of silver." — Acts, 19 : I'J- This occurred at Ephesus, a cele- brated city of Asia Minor, which con- tained* that magnificent temple of Di- ana, which was reckoned amongst the wonders of the world. The Ephesians, it appears, were greatly addicted to the study of curious arts, to magic, sorcery, and judicial astrology, so that "Ephesian letters" became a proverbial expression for cabalistic, or magical, characters. The Gospel, as preached by St. Paul, made great way in Ephesus, and a very flourishing church rewarded his labors. The Ephesians, according to the common course of the Divine dealings, were attacked in the way which their habits and pursuits marked out as most pro- THE BURNING OF THE MAGICAL BOOKS. 449 t«isiiig. In no place does there seem to have been so great a display of supernatural energy; as though men, much addicted to witchcraft, to the at- tempting unlawful intercourse with po- tent but invisible beings, were likely to be most Avrought upon by evidence of intimate connection with spiritual agents. You read that " God wrought special miracles by the hands of Paul, ;j so that from his body were brought unto the sick handkerchiefs, or aprons, and the diseases departed from them, and the evil spirits went out of them." It must have been very striking to the Ephesian magicians, to find that St. Paul could thus apparentlj'^ commu- nicate a sort of magical virtue to arti- cles of dress : they were perhaps more ' likely than men who had never med- dled with occult arts, to feel the force : of such an evidence of superhuman I I might. In short, the Ephesians, be- cause accustomed to produce strange results by some species or another of Avitchcraft, v/ould naturally ascribe mi- racles to a similar agency ; hence, the miracles, which were to serve as their credentials of Christianity, required to be more than commonly potent, such as were not in any degree iraitable, whether through the dexterity of the juggler, or the incantations of the sor- cerer. And it seems to us one of those instances, not the less remarkable be- cause easily overlooked, of the care- I 1 fulness with which God adapts means ( jto an end, that, in a city in v>'hich, of !■ I all others, false miracles were likely 1 to abound, and improper arts made the mind familiar with strange phenomena, the powers granted to the preachers of Christianity were of extraordinary extent, sufficing to place an apostle at an immeasurable distance from the most consummate magician. It is, moreover, evident that the hold gained on the Ephesians was gained jy and through the demonstration of he superiority of St. Paul's power to hat possessed by any dealer in unlaw- iil arts. In the verses which immedi- tely precede our text, you have the ccount of a singular occurrence, which ppears to have had much to do with 'le obtaining for Christianity a firm Joting in Ephesus. You read that crtain Jews, who travelled the coun- ■y as exorcists, persons, that is, who professed to cast out the evil spirits which had then frequent possession of men's bodies, took upon them to em- ploy the name of the Lord Jesus in their endeavors to eject demons, hav- ing observed with what success it was used by St. Paul. Amongst others who made the wicked and insolent attempt, for such it surely was, to endeavor to weave a spell from a name Avhich they openly blasphemed, were the " seven sons of one Sceva, a Jew." As though they thought that numbers v.'ould give force to the adjuration, these seven ap- pear to have gone together to a man demoniacally possessed, and to have addressed the foul spirit in the name of Jesus Christ. The spirit, however, answered, " Jesus I know, and Paul I know ; but who are ye V Thus the de- mon professed himself ready to sub- mit to Jesus, or Paul, his accredited messenger ; but he knew of no right which these exorcists had to dispos- sess him by the name whose potency he acknowledged. He was not, how- ever, content with thus refusing to be exorcised : he took a signal revenge, causing the man, in whom he dwelt, to put forth supernatural strength, so that he leaped upon the seven men, and overcame them, and forced them to flee " out of the house naked and wounded." This was quickly noised abroad, and produced, we are told, great effects among both the Jews and Greeks who were dwelling at Ephesus ; " and fear fell on them all, and the name of the Lord Jesus was magnified." To men accus- tomed to make use of charms and in- cantations, the evidences thus given of the sacredness of Christ's name, and of the peril of employing it to any but those who believed in his mission, would naturally be very convincing: it was just the sort of evidence which their habits made them most capable of appreciating, and by which thercfoie they were most likely to be overcome. Accordingly, it seems at once to have taught numbers the necessity of sub- mitting to Christ, and renouncing those arts of magic and sorcery, tlirough which they had perhaps endeavored to hold intercourse with spirits. They acted with great promptness on the conviction : they laid open all the mys- teries of their witchcraft, they " came, r>7 Itt 450 THE BURNING OF THE MAGICAL BOOKS. aiidconfessed, and showed their deeds j" and then, fired with a holy indignation at the nefarious practices in wliich they had long indulged, and abhorring the very books which contained the rules and secrets of their arts, they gather- ed together the curious and costly vol- umes, and publicly burned them ; thus evidencing their sincerity by no trifling sacrifice, for when they counted the price of these books, " they found it fifty thousand pieces of silver." Now there are certain points of view, under which if this conduct of the Ephesians be surveyed, it will appear singularly deserving of being both ad- mired and imitated. We believe of this incident of the burning of the magical books, as of the rest of scriptural his- tory, that it has been " written for our admonition," and ought not to be pass- ed over with a mere cursory notice. We shall accordingly proceed to the endeavoring to extract from it such lessons as there shall seem ground for supposing it intended to furnish. It is unnecessary for us to inquire what those arts may have been, in which the Ephesians are said to have greatly excelled. There seems no reason for doubting, that, as we have stated al- ready, they were of the nature of ma- gic, sorcery, or witchcraft ; though we cannot profess accurately to define what such terms might import. The Ephe- sians, as some in all ages have done, probably laid claim to intercourse with invisible beings, and professed to de- rive from that intercourse acquaintance with, and power over, future events. And though the very name of witch- craft be now Ijeld in contempt, and the supposition of communion with evil spirits scouted as a fable of what are called the dark ages, we own that we have difficulty in believing, that all which has passed by the names of ma- gic and sorcery may be resolved into sleight of hand, deception, and trick. The visible world and the invisible are in very close contact : there is indeed a veil on our eyes, preventing our gaz- ing on spiritual beings and things ; but we doubt not that whatsoever passes upon earth is open to the view of high- er and immaterial creatures. And as we are sure that a man of piety and prayer enlists good angels on his side, and eno-ages them to perform towards him the ministrations of kindness, we know not why there cannot be such a thing as a man, whose wickedness has caused his being abandoned by the Spirit of God, and who, in this his de- sertion, has thrown open to evil angels the chambers of his soul, and made himself so completely their instrument, that they may use him in the uttering or working strange things, which shall have all the air of prophecy or miracle. But whatever your opinion be as ta the precise nature of sorcery, and the degree to which it might be carried, we may be sure that the books, which the Ephesian converts so resolutely burnt, contained the mysteries of the art, the rules by whose study and ap- plication men were to acquire what, at least, might resemble superhuman pow- er and skill. And what we have first to remark on the burning of these books, is, that it manifested great detesta- tion of their contents, though hitherto the Ephesians had specially delighted in reading and applying them. There could have been no stronger evidence of the reality of their conversion, than was given by their committing these volumes to the flames. They thus show- ed a thorough consciousness of the un- lawfulness of the arts of which the books treated, and an abhorrence of the practices therein described. And it is always a great sign of the genu- ineness, the sincerity, of religion, when a man proves that the things, in which he once took delight, are regarded by him with hatred and aversion. It is given as the characteristic of vital Christianity, that he, in whom it dwells, has become '' a new creature." There is nothing which may take the place of this characteristic, or make up for its want. It matters not whether a man can describe the process of his conver- sion, or fix its exact date : he may have been truly converted, and yet be igno- rant how and when it was done. But it is quite indispensable that there should be evidences of moral renewal: light and darkness are not more op- posed than the state of the converted and that of the unconverted ; and though I may not know the moment or manner of my being translated from the one to the other, there is more than room for doubting whether I can have been translated at all, if no change have It lit so km THE BURNING OF THE MAGICAL BOOKS. 451 perceptibly passed on my hopes, de- sires, and fears. Regenerated in bap- tism, I may indeed have been "daily renewed,"* and never, therefore, have needed conversion. But if I have ever I lived a worldly life, and then hearken- ed to the dictates of religion, the tran- sition may have been silently and im- perceptibly effected, but must be de- monstrable from strong contrasts be- tween what I am and w^hat I once was. We have always therefore to re- quire of men, who, once worldly, now think themselves converted, that they rest content with no evidence but that of a great moral change ; not satisfied, because there may have been some- thing of external reform, but searching for proof of such alteration in charac- ter, that they hate what they loved, and love what they hated. Such a proof the Ephesians gave, when they burnt their costly treatises on magic. They had been specially addicted to magic : by and through magic they had specially offended God, and peril- i led. their souls : so soon, therefore, as Christianity had won its way to their hearts, it was against magic that they showed a holy indignation ; it was ma- gic which they proved themselves re- solved to abandon. The moral change was thus satisfactorily evidenced; the thing which had been most delighted in was the thing most abhorred ; and no proof could be stronger, that the men were new creatures in Christ. We ask the like proof from those of you who suppose themselves " renew- ied in the spirit of their mind." Have ;you burnt your books on magic ? We do not accuse you of having, like the there is a broader sense in which every one of us by nature holds intercourse with fallen angels, and learns from them how to put deceits on others and himself. Yea, and we have our books upon magic. What are half the volumes with which the land is delug- ed, but volumes which can teach no- thing but how to serve the devil bet- ter'? How numerous the works of an infidel tendency! How yet more nu- marous those of an immoral ! What a shoal of poems and tales, which, though not justly falling under either of these descriptions, can but emasculate the mind of the reader, filling it with fan- cies and follies, and unfitting it for high thought and solemn investigation. What treatises on the acquisition of wealth, as though money were the one thing needful ; what histories of the ambitious and daring, as though human honor deserved our chief aspirations; what pictures of pleasure, as though earthly gratifications could satisfy our longings. And if we have our books upon ma- gic, have we not also the scenes and places where fallen spirits may be declared the presiding deities'! — the crowded mart, where mammon is al- most literally worshipped ; the gorgeous theatre, where the very air is that of vo- luptuousness; the more secret haunts of licentiousness; the mirthful gather- ings, where the great object is to for- get God ; the philosophical, where the chief endeavor is to extol man. Indeed it must not be said that there is nothing of witchcraft going on around us. The question of the Apostle to the Galati- ans has lost none of its force: '^ Who Ephesians, practised the arts of the | hath bewitched you, that ye should not obey the truth 1" Nay, not only may every unconverted man be declared, in some great sense, under the influence of sorcery: he maybe said to practise sorcery; for he is instrumental, whe- ther by his precept or his example, to the seducing others into sin, and confirming their attachment to the world. We may, then, almost literally bring him, if he think himself converted, to the test furnished by the conflagration of which we read in our text. We ask him whether he feels, and manifests, a righteous indignation against those practices and pursuits which at one •sorcerer : ye have not woven spells, nor muttered incantations. Ye have had nothing to do with the myste- ries of enchantment, or with the foul rites of necromancy, dazzling the liv- ng or disturbing the dead. But, never- lieless, ye have been in communion .vith "the god of this world," "the irince of the power of the air :" ye lave submitted to his illusions, and surrendered yourselves to his service. f, in some peculiar sense, the sorcerer »r the nniagician give himself up to the levil, and make himself his instrument, * Collect for Christmas-dav. 452 THE BURNING OF THE MAGICAL BOOKS. time engrossed his affections 1 What- ever may have been his peculiar and besetting sin, is it that sin against which he specially guards ] is it that sin which he visits with the most tho- rough hatred 1 It is comparatively no- thins: that he is viorilant and wrathful against other sins — is he vigilant and wrathful against the favorite sin 1 The Ephesians directed their indignation against magic ; and it was magic to which the Ephesians had been special- ly prone. Have we proceeded on the same principle 1 One man is specially acted on by the love of wealth: is it the love of wealth against which reli- gion has made him specially earnest 1 Another is more disposed to the pursuit of honor : is it ambition against which religion has most roused his zeal "? A third is most easily overcome by his bodily appetites : is it his grand effort, as instructed by Christianity, to cruci- fy " the flesh, with the affections and lusts'?" We can take no lesser proof of sincerity: the fire must be made with the books of our own particular art, otherwise we may burn library up- on library, and yet furnish no evidence of conversion. And in this respect, even had we no other to allege, the conduct of the Ephesians reads a great lesson to the men of every age. They publicly show- ed that they hated and abjured the sin which they Avere publicly known to have most loved and practised. It was the vehement protest of the covetous man against covetousness ; of the li- centious against licentiousness ; of the ambitious against ambition. It was not the protest of the covetous against li- centiousness ; nor of the licentious against ambition. There is ordinarily little difficulty in gaining such a pro- test as that. But it was the protest of the av/akened sinner against his own chosen form of sin ; and thousands are ready to protest against all but their own, to give up any other, on the sin- gle condition of keeping what they love best. Therefore, judge ye your- selves, we again say, by your likeness to the Ephesians. Ye have tampered, in one sense, like them, with sorcery. Ye have gone down to the cave of the enchantress, and ye have drunk of that cup by which the tempter hopes to steal away men's faculties. Ye have had your books in which ye have studi- ed magic — whether the magic by which the metal and the jewel may be made to flow into your coflers; or that by which ye] may wreath the brow with laurel; or that by which ye may fascinate the senses, and make life one round of lux- urious enjoyment. But ye now think that religion has hold upon you, and that ye are no longer what ye were. And heartily do we trust that you are right in your opinion, and that there is no self-deceit. But this we must tell you — if ye be, indeed, converted, the evidence of the conversion will be in the manifested abhorrence, not only generally of sin, but especially of that sin in which you most indulged — oh, you will virtually do what was done by the Ephesians, who, because they had ! peculiarly provoked God by the practising curious arts, were no soon- er led to a true belief in Christ, than they "brought their books together, and burned them before all men." It would, however, be inferring com- paratively very little from this action of the Ephesians, were we to regard it only as expressing their detestation of their favorite sin. We may justly sup- pose that they had their safety in view, when throwing into the flames the trea- tises on magic. They might have pub- licly renounced the arts which they had been accustomed to practise, with- out burning *the rare volumes which had initiated them into their mysteries. They might have shut up these vol- umes, retaining them as mere litera- ry curiosities, though resolving never again to refer to them for instruction in witchcraft. But there would have been a want of christian prudence in this ; this would have kept them con- tinually exposed to temptation ; and it was in their not doing this, that we count them greatly worthy of being ad- mired and imitated. It is very clear that, had they not destroyed their trea- tises on magic, there would ahvays have been a risk of their returning to their study: it was not unlikely that, so soon as the first heat of religion had passed, they would again have taken up the curious books, and read them for recreation, if not for instruction. We do not necessarily suppose that they would have turned to them with any design of resuming unlawful prac- m tru; tjo: 10 s. .1, lEO R; THE BURNING OF THE MAGICAL BOOKS. 453 tices ; but ihey might have perused I them as a singular species of literature, from which entertainment might be drawn, without any surrender of the persuasion that they taught only what was foul and unhallowed. Yet any such intention of making any use whatever of the books would have shown a sort of lurking affection for what they contained, and could not, at least, have been carried into effect without risk of the being seduced back into the practice of sorcery. The Ephe- sians, therefore, wisely determined to put themselves out of the way of temp- tation ; and this, you observe, they ef- fectually did by burning their books ; •for, in all probability, those books were not to be replaced; even had they wish- ed for them again ; there v/as then no printing-press, that mighty engine for multiplying evil as well as good. Thus they cut themselves off, in a very high degree, from the possibility of return- ing to their divinations and encliant- ments : they showed a wholesome dis- trust of their own strength and resolu- tion, and proved that, with real chris- tian prudence, they tiiought it better to shun than to brave moral peril. And herein did they become a great example to ourselves. We have to re- quire of those of you wlio have broken away from the enchantments and fas- cinations of the world, that they show a like zeal in avoiding the scenes and occasions of temptation, it is not chris- tian courage, it is nothing better than (presumption, when a man unnecessa- rily exposes himself to spiritual dan- ger, as though counting himself proof against assault, and not again to be jentangled in things once abandoned. iWhen we are brought into temptation, Iby walking the clear path of duty, we Ihave the best reason to expect such jassistance from above as shall enable Ijus to hold fast our integrity. But if we )e not in the clear path of duty when Iwe meet the temptation ; if it be through lour own choice or hardihood that our sonstancy is endangered ; there is great jrobability that God will suffer us to ^all, if only to teach us our feel)leness, ind our need of stronger caution for the future. God permitted not the fire ICO singe a hair of the heads of the three Tewish youths, who preferred the be- ing cast into a furnace to the worship- ping an idol ; but had they presump- tuously thrown themselves into the flames, in place of having been enve- loped in them for the maintenance of truth, do you think that the like mira- cle would have been wrought on their behalf? And similarly wit1i the Ephe- sians, it might happen to them, that books on magic would fall in their way, and that they would be tempted to pe- ruse their unhallowed pages. But they would have had nothing to do with the causing this temptation, and might, therefore, expect to be strengthened to withstand it. But if, on the other hand, they had kept themselves in the way of temptation by preserving the treatises, they would have had only themselves to blame, if, as in all like- lihood it would have happened, they had been drawn back to the study, and perhaps even the practice, of unlaw- ful arts. Here, therefore, we have again to ply the professing christians amongst you with the question, have ye burnt your books on magic 1 Ye will readily un- derstand the precise force of the ques- tion, as addressed to yourselves, and how it must be modified to meet a dif- ference in circumstances. As we be- fore said, ye have had nothing to do with the arts of the sorcerer, in the sense in which those arts were prac- tised by the Ephesians. But neverthe- less ye have lived in a very atmosphere of witchery ; the spell has been woven over you and around you ; the gorge- ous phantoms, the brilliant shadows, with which evil spirits people the world, " beguiling unstable souls," these once dazzled and allured you, though now the illusion is broken, and ye have re- solved to walk henceforwards by the light of God's word. And what have ye done in regard of sources and occa- sions of temptation 1 upon what prin- ciple have you acted with respect to books, and scenes, and practices, which experience has identified with the ar- tifices of that great deceiver, who once had you altogether in his power 1 It may be that one of you was half in- clined to infidelity : he read sceptical books, whose assertions he could not disprove, and whose sophistries he could not unravel — he was magician enough to conjure up doubts, but want- ed the wand of truth wherewith to dis- M\ 45-t THE BURNING OF THE MAGICAL BOOKS. perse them. Christianity, however, has been presented to him with that over- coming evidence which it wears, when preached with " demonstration of the Spirit and of power ;" and he has put away all unbelief, and cordially admit- ted the Gospel as a message from God. But what has he done with the magi- cal books, with the treatises which en- tangled him in the maze of infidelity'? There is such a thing as preserving, yea, as reading a book from a literary motive, when it is held in abhorrence on every other account. The book may be very rare, or very eloquent ; it may be valuable for its style, or for infor- mation which it contains, though un- happily fraught with Deistical princi- ples. And the man, on whom the book once acted like an initiation into sor- cery, forcing him into a region of wild cloud and shadow, will, perhaps, when he has shaken off scepticism, study the book afresh, because relishing its beau- ty of diction, or wishing to show him- self proof against its falsehoods. Ah ! he had better have imitated the Ephe- sians : he is fearfully and unnecessari- ly endangering his faith : he should ra- ther have burnt the book on magic ; he should have done, we mean, his best to put, or to keep, the dangerous vol- ume out of reach. It may be that another of you has lived much in vice, submitting himself to the tyranny of his passions, and walking within the circles of what is falsely called pleasure. And in this his sensual career he has, perhaps, been often excited to fresh indulgence by the licentious writings of poets, men who have prostituted all the graces of song to the service of impurity. It is one of the foulest and most melancho- ly of facts, that writers of extraordi- nary genius, not to be surpassed in the play of imagination and the power of language, have desecrated their talents to the adorning debauchery, to the throwing a grace and a beauty over the abominations of vice. And it must be a fatal and a standing reproach on our literature, that it contains volumes which are almost unrivalled in the mere article of composition, rich in the splendor of diction, the brilliancy of metaphor, and the pathos of descrip- tion, but which put all modesty to the blush, and but few fragments of which can we venture to place in the hands of our children. These deserve to be called the treatises on magic, when it is the wand of pleasure which evil spirits wave. It is beyond calculation what an amount of viciousness is fos- tered in a land, through the circulation of loose, but beautiful, poetry. We speak not of publications which can be only sold in secret, and the venders of which have only to become known to be punished by law. We speak of those to which no such open stigma is attached, but which are, neverthe- less, as instrumental to the fanning base passions, and encouraging licentious- ness, as the more indecent and scanda- lous, which draw upon themselves ju- dicial condemnation. There is many a young person who would shrink from gross writings with a sort of instinct- ive abhorrence, but who is not proof against the seductions of voluptuous poetry, and to whom, therefore, the elegant author, who can clothe immo- rality in a fascinating dress, will serve as a sort of High Priest of vice, though he might have been disgusted by any of its less polished ministers. But our question now is, what does the sensualist do with the magical books, when convinced, by the urgen- cy of Christianity, of the duty of liv- ing " soberly, righteously, and godly in the world V Is there not much, even amongst those who profess an utter abhorrence of licentiousness, of retain- ing, and reading, for the sake of their exquisite poetry, works confessedly im- moral in their tendency'? Are not the graces of composition accepted in apo- logy for the deficiencies in principle 1 Does not many a man tolerate, yea, even enjoy, books which, in a religious point of view, he utterly repudiates, because they contain passages of un- exampled sublimity, or flash through- out with the coruscations of genius'? We have only to say upon this, that the Ephesians acted more nobly, and more wisely. The man, who has once been the slave of his passions, and who has found those passions excited by voluptuous writings, ought never again to open the volumes, as though he might now gather the beauties of poe- sy without imbibing the sentiments of impurity : the volumes ought to be to him, as if the only copies had been THE BURNING OF THE MAGICAL BOOKS. 455 consumed in the flames — the Ephe- sians should he his pattern, who not merely abjured what they had learnt to be wrong, but did their utmost to keep themselves out of reach, for the future, of the temptationsby which they had been overcome. And, without confining ourselves to the precise case of books, what is your course generally in regard of occasions of sin, of places and occupations which you have found detrimental to religion"? Do you make a point of shunning what you have discovered to be injurious 1 or do you venture on a repetition, in the confidence of being too strong to be again injured 1 The associates who en- couraged you in sin, whilst careless of the soul — have you given them up, now that you are anxious for the soul '? or do you act on the supposition, that there is no further fear of your being- carried away by the force of compani- onship % You found that worldly amuse- ments — the theatre, with its licentious accompaniments ; the masquerade and the dance, with their frivolity at least, if not their sinfulness ; the card-table, with its trial of temper, even Avhere it did not excite the spirit of gambling — you found that these warred against the soul, whilst you were yet uncon- verted ; but what have you done as a proof and result of conversion \ Have you striven, to the best of your power, to place barriers between yourselves I and these amusements 1 or are you still partaking of them, only in less mea- sure, and with a diminished affection'? Or, once more, if it were for wealth [that you had dealings Avith the sorcer- er, dedicating every moment and ener- gy to the arts by which gold may be multiplied, how have you acted since the grace of God, as you think, brought lyou to love and seek everlasting trea- jsures'? Have you put from you what [was too engrossing in occupation 1 or lare you still as engaged as ever in the fwitchcraft of money-making % You can hardly fail to understand the drift of these questions. The thing jwhich we wish impressed upon you lis, that, whatever may have been your [dominant passion before conversion, lyour great efi'ort, in proof of conver- ision, should be the cutting yourselves bff from temptations to the gratifying '.hat passion. We care not what en- chantment you most practised, or by what you were most beguiled ; your endeavor should be, to keep yourselves as much as possible out of the sphere of that enchantment ; not exposing yourselves to its influence, as though its power were gone, but placing your- selves beyond its reach, as though your weakness remained. And if ever we see a *man, who has been delivered from the meshes of infidelity, still fond of studying sceptical writings ; or ano- ther, who has been won from licentious- ness, adventuring into the haunts of dissipation ; or a third, whose idol was gold, taking no pains to withdraw from the atmosphere of covetousness ; or a fourth, whom evil companions had se- duced, braving the charm of old asso- ciation — oh, we cannot but greatly fear for such a man, that his contempt of danger will make him its victim j that, by not detaching himself at once from occasions and scenes of temptation, he has but insured relapses and backslid- ings : we can but desire that he had taken the Ephesians as his model, who no sooner renounced magic, than, as though fearful of being again entangled in its study, and distrusting themselves whilst they had access to its rules, " brought their books together, and burned them before all men." But there is yet another point of view under which we may survey the conduct of the Ephesians, and find in it a test of the genuineness of conver- sion. We have spoken of the burning of the magical books as proving de- testation of a favorite sin, and earnest- ness in avoiding the being again tempt- ed to its commission. But we may al- low that other ways might have been found in which to express abhorrence of sorcery ; and that, perhaps, some of the Ephesians might have retained the books in their possession, with- out much risk of resuming the unlaw- ful studies. Yet if equal detestation might have been otherwise shown, and if no personal risk whatsoever had been run, we should still have to applaud, and point out for imitation, that action of tlie Ephesians which stands record- ed in our text. So long as the books were preserved, there was of course no security against their falling into the hands of unstable persons, who would be tempted by them to the en- 456 THE BURNING- OF THE MAGICAL BOOKS. gaging in the trade of the magician. But by actually destroying the books, the most effectual means were taken to prevent the spread of ^the study of sorcery ; for, as we have already re- marked, there was then no printing- press to multiply indefinitely the co- pies of a work. The books must have been manuscripts, produced with great care, and procured at large cost. In our own day, indeed, very little would in most cases be gained by the burn- ing our copy of an improper book. We should not thereby necessarily do much, if any thing, towards preventing the work from finding its way into the possession of others. But it was very different, as you must all perceive, be- fore the invention of printing ; and it is highly probable that the Christian converts could have done nothing more instrumental to the suppression of ma- gic in Ephesus, than the consigning to the flames the books on curious arts which they respectively owned. It was going far towards destroying the gram- mars and dictionaries of the cabalistic language, and thus leaving those, who might wish to learn witchcraft, de- prived of the common means of ascer- taining its elements. And we suppose, accordingly, that the Ephesians were greatly actuated by this motive : it was not enough for them, either that they had themselves abjured magic, or were not themselves likelj' to be again injured by the books : they had respect to the welfare of others ; and feeling that this welfare might be endangered by the magical volumes, they threw Avitbout reserve those volumes into the flames, though their price, when count- ed, was found to be "fifty thousand pieces of silver." And here we have again to declare the Ephesians an example, and to ply you with the question. Have you, from the like motive, burnt your books on magic 1 There is no better test of the genuineness of conversion, than ear- nestness in seeking the conversion of others. It cannot be that a man has been brought to a sense of his sinful- ness, of the danger to Vv'hich as a sin- nef he is exposed, and of the provision made by Christ for his deliverance, and yet is indifferent to the condition of those who live '^ without hope, and without God in the world." There is the widest possible separation between vital Christianity and whatsoever has alliance with selfishness : vital Christi- anity is a generous, expansive thing: the man of the world may be willing to keep earthly riches to himself; the man of God must be anxious to com- municate heavenly to others. In spiri- tual things, anxiety does not terminate with the securing our own safety : it is rapidly transferred to others; and when humbly confident of being '' begotten again to a lively hope," we shall be painfully solicitous to make those around us fellow-heirs of the promise. One of the strongest feelings in the converted man, is that the great things done for him by God bind him to at- tempt great things in return : as he looks upon those who still sit " in dark- ness and the shadow of death," the light, with which he has been visited, will seem to him given on purpose to be diffused. The Ephesians, as we think, quite satisfied this test of conversion when they burnt their magical books. It was the action by which, as we have shown you, more was done than could per- haps have else been achieved, towards preventing others from engaging in practices which themselves had found most pernicious. So that the flames, in which they consumed their treatises on witchcraft, were the best tokens of the ardency of their love for the souls of their fellow-men. Have you given any thing of a like token 1 Where are your books upon magic'? What have you done towards keeping others from the sins to whose commission you were yourselves most addicted ] For what has been most injurious to yourselves, you will naturally feel likely to be most injurious to others, and it Avill there- fore be that against which you will most strive to put others on their guard. The man, once tinctured with infidelitj% will be zealous in suppress- ing sceptical writings, and diffusing their refutation. The man who has liv- ed in licentiousness, will be so earnest in nothing as in discountenancing vice and promoting morality. The man who was injured by bad companjr, will do all in his power to keep the unwary from evil associations. The man who has experienced the hurtfulness of pub- lic amusements, will be ur^rent against THE BURNING OF THE MAGICAL BOOKS. 457 places and diversions which he found full of peril. The man who was likely to have been ruined through covetous- ness, will warn others, above all things, against the love of money. And in these or similar cases, the thing done is pre- cisely what was done by the Ephesians : the books on magic are burnt, with the distinct view of keeping others from practising magic : individuals do their best to put down or obstruct that partic- ular form of evil which proved most en- tangling and detrimental to themselves. Let those of you who think them- selves converted, try by this test the genuineness of their conversion. Each must well know the sin to which he was most inclined, and by which his salvation was most endangered ; is he, then, all anxiety to keep others from that sin, and to remove from them temptations to its commission] The converted man is not only desirous to prevent sin in general ; he is specially desirous to prevent that sin which was once his besetting sin ; to guard men against it, and to cut oif its occasions. iThis is what we call burning the books on magic — the acting with the set de- sign of withholding others from what las been peculiarly hurtful to ourselves. \nd if the man who was injured by iceptical writings manifest no special :eal against infidelity ; or if he, who vas in bondage to the lusts of the flesh, le not foremost in opposing licentious- less ; or if another, who had almost hipwrecked himself for eternity in the heatre, or at the gaming-table, be not nergetic in withdrawing others from aunts of dissipation; or generally, if n individual, who was all but lost irough living in a certain sin, take no arnest measures for preventing those round him from committing that sin ; h, we are bound to fear for such a lan, that he does but deceive himself, hen thinking that he has undergone great moral change; and we must rge upon him the comparing himself ith the Ephesians of old, who Avere ? sooner brought to faith in the Sa- or than, animated with desire to sup- ■ess the arts which had endangered eir souls, they collected their books, d threw them into the flames, though, len the price of them was counted, hey found it fifty thousand pieces of ; ver." Our concluding remarks on the burn- ing the treatises on sorcery, will be of a somewhat difi'erent texture from the foregoing. The epistle which St. Paul wrote to the Ephesians about four years after this event, is among the most beautiful and valuable portions of the New Testament.* It is not, as is the Epistle to the Romans, or that to the Hebrews, a great controversial trea- tise; it is a letter to those who, having been well initiated into Christianity, and grounded in its fundamental prin- ciples, might be conducted to its more secret depths, or admitted into ac- quaintance with its profounder myste- ries. TJhere is, perhaps, no part of the writings of St, Paul, in which the ele- ments of Christian truth are more as- sumed as placed beyond controversy, and in which, therefore, the Apostle seems to feel more at liberty to des- cant on sublime things, and unfold glorious wonders. If it be lawful, in speaking of Scripture, to draw such a distinction, we should say that tl.e Epistle to the Ephesians is among the most spiritual of the inspired writings, throwing open, in an uncommon de- gree, the very recesses of the Gospel, and presenting such heights of Chris- tian doctrine as, after all our soarings, still lose themselves in the clouds. And it has been justly pointed out, as singularly worthy of observation, that it was to men who had burnt their books on curious arts that an epistle was indited, so replete with what is most wonderful, most beautiful, most profound, in Christianity. If you will allow us the expression, it was like repaying them in kind. The Ephesians had abandoned the mysteries of sorce- ry and astrology: at the bidding of the Apostle they had renounced unhallow- ed modes of prying into the secrets of the invisible world ; and they were re- compensed by being led to the inner- most shrines of truth, and permitted to behold glories which were veiled from common gaze. They gave up the astrology, which is busied with stars that shall be quenched, and lo, "the Sun of righteousness " rose on them with extraordinary eff'ulgence ; they renounced the magic which would con- jure up strange forms, and a rod, like Knox's CoiTPspondeni-p. 458 THE PARTING HYMN. that of Moses, was stretched forth, peo- pling the whole universe with images of splendor ; they abjured the necro- mancy, which sought to extort from the dead revelations of the future, and the very grave became luminous, and its ashes glowed for them with immor- tality. Learn ye from this, that ye cannot give up any thing for God, and be los- ers by the surrender. The loss is al- ways far more than made up, and, per- haps, often by the communication of something which resembles, whilst it immeasurably excels, what you part with. Never stay, then, to compute the cost : the Ephesians do not seem to have computed it before they burnt their books, though they computed it after — and then, not in regret, but on- ly to display the triumph of the Gos- pel. Let the cost be " fifty thousand pieces of silver :" hesitate not to make the sacrifice for God, and you shall find yourselves a hundred-fold recom- pensed : like the Ephesians, if you for- sake magic, because God hath forbid- den it, ye shall be initiated into mys- teries which the Holy Spirit alone can reveal. 1^, SERMON IV. THE PARTING HYMN, Jilt :es. SMI ras iliio 'And when they had sung an hymn they went out into the Mount of Olives." — Matthew, 26 : 20, These words refer, as you are proba- 1 bly all aware, to the conclusion of our ', Lord's last supper with his disciples, : when, having instituted a sacrament j which was to take the place of the j Passover, he went forth to meet the ! sufferings through which the world ! should be redeemed. The evangelist St. John does not give any account of the institution of the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper, but he records sundry most important discourses Avhich Christ delivered at this time to his afflicted dis- ciples. It is probable that a portion of these discourses was uttered immedi- ately after the institution of the Sacra- ment, and before our Lord quitted the chamber in which he had supped with his followers. The remainder are ge- nerally thought to have been delivered on tl 6 Mount of Olives, to which Christ first went, as is stated in our text, and from which, as the night advanced, he retired with Peter, and James, aB< John, to Gethsemane, that he might u dergo mysterious agony, and meet I dread conflict the powers of darkness. But, to whatever times and places w may aflix the several discourses pre' served by St. John, there is every rea son to think that our text relates th( last thing which occurred in the room^ ' where the supper had been eaten j that, so soon as the hymn, or psalm, had been sung, our Lord left the room, that he might give himself to the enemies whflttjj^f thirsted for his blood. Opportunity may S^, have been afterwards found of fortify-j i ' ing still further the minds of the disci^ ^," pies; but we are to consider that the l ■ singing of the hymn was the last thing i^'- done at Christ's last supper, and thati J "* this having been done, the blessed Re, |,. ^• deemer, as one who knew that his houi| l. ^'P was come, forthwith departed to sufle: t'' and to die. , THE PARTING HYMN. 459 And what was the hymn, or psalm, chanted at so tearful and melancholy a moment 1 There is no reason to think that our Lord swerved from the custom of the Jews ; he had commemorated the Passover as it was then wont to be commemorated by his countrymen ; and we may justly, therefore, conclude that he sung what they were used to sing in finishing the solemn celebra- tion. When the Passover was institu- ted, on the eventful night of the de- struction of the first-born of the Egyp- tians, various forms and practices were enjoined, as you find related in the twelfth chapter of the Book of Exo- dus. But in after-times, especially in those of our Savior, when traditions had come to their height, numerous circumstances were added to the cele- bration, so that the original rites form- ed but a small part of what were prac- tised by the Jews.* And learned men have well observed that the New Tes- tament, in several places, refers to certain of these additional circumstan- ces, leaving us to infer that Christ commemorated the Passover as it was then ordinarily commemorated, without rejecting such customs as could not distinctly plead the autho- rity of the law. Thus, for example, at the first Passover in Egypt, the strict injunction had been, that they should eat ij; "with their loins girded, their shoes on their feet, their staves in their hands, and in haste. The posture enjoined and practised corresponded accurately v>?ith their condition, that of men about to be thrust forth from the country, and to enter on a toilsome ind difficult march. But afterwards the Jews altered the posture, that it might answer better to their altered Mrcumstances. At their common meals he Jews either sat, as we do, with heir bodies erect, or reclined on touches, with the left elbow on the able. But on the Passover night they lonsidered themselves obliged to use he recumbent position, because it narked, as they thought, their free- lom and composure. Now it is evi- !ent, that in this our Lord conformed the custom of the Jews : the belov- d disciple, John, leant on his bosom uring the repast, from which we infer, Seo Lightfoot on the celebi-ation of the Passover. at once, that Christ and his Apostles reclined in the eating the Passover. To give another instance. The eat- ing of unleavened bread at this time was enjoined by a special and express command, which you find in the Book of Exodus; but nothing is there said as to the use of wine at the Passover. Subsequently, however, the drinking wine at the Passover came to be con- sidered as indispensable as the eating the unleavened bread. We find it ex- pressly stated by the Rabbinical wri- ters, that '' the poorest man in Israel was bound to drink off four cups of wine this night, yea, though he lived of the alms-basket." Now it is very clear that our Lord and his disciples made use of wine at the Passover: nay, Christ may be said to have given a di- rect sanction to what might have been regarded as the innovation of tradition ; for he took the cup which men had introduced into the paschal supper, and consecrated it in perpetual memorial of his own precious blood. In like man- ner, with regard to the singing of a psalm or hymn — there is nothing said in the Book of Exodus as to the con- cluding the paschal supper with any such act, yet the custom was intro- duced in process of time, and the Jews made a point of singing the hundred and thirteenth and the five following Psalms, Psalms which are said to have been selected, not only because con- taining, in the general, high and emi- nent memorials of God's goodness and deliverance unto Israel, but because they record these five great things, " the coming out of Egypt, the divid- ing of the sea, the giving of the law, the resurrection of the dead, and the lot of Messias." These psalms were repeated, or chanted, on other occa- sions besides that of the Passover — as at the feast of Pentecost, and on the eight days of the feast of Dedication. But at no time was their use more strictly observed than on the night of the Passover, though they were not then all sung at once, but rather dis- persed over the service ; only so that, when the last cup of wine was filled, the concluding psalms were sung ; and thus the solemnities terminated with the chant, " Thou art my God, and I will praise thee ; thou art my God, I will exalt thee. give thanks unto 460 THE PAHTING HIMN. the Lord, for he is good, for his mercy endureth for ever." As we are express- ly told that Clirist concluded the Pass- over with a psalm or hymn, we cannot well doubt, that, having conformed, in other respects to the existing customs of the Jews, he conformed also in this ; and that, consequently, the words which he sung with his disciples were the words then ordinarily used in the solemn commemoration of the deliver- ance from Egypt. We shall assume this through the remainder of our dis- course ; so that if, over and above the fact of a hymn having been sung, we have occasion to refer to the subject- matter of the hymn, we shall turn to the psalms which constituted what the Jews called the Hallel, from the repe- tition of the word " Hallelujah," and seek in them for the expressions which were woven into the anthem of our Lord and his Apostles. There are many truths which pre- sent themselves to the mind, when it duly ponders the simple statement of the text. Our foregoing remarks, bear- ing merely on the fact that Christ con- formed to the innovations of the Jews, will only help us to the making one use, though an important one, of the passage. We shall find, however, as we proceed, that what we may have been used to pass by, as the bare announce- ment of a fact but little interesting to ourselves, is fraught with rich and va- ried instruction. Let us then employ ourselves, without anticipating any fur- ther the lessons to be extracted, in con- sidering whether, as with all other Scripture, it were not for our admoni- tion and instruction in righteousness, that the sacred historian, having given ns the account of the last supper, was directed to record of Christ and his Apostles, that " when they had sung an hymn, they went out into the Mount of Olives." Now the first important truth on ■which we would speak, as enforced or illustrated by the passage under re- view, is that to which our introductory remarks have all tended, that our bless- ed Lord, by conforming to certain cus- toms of the Jews in the eating of the Passover, gave his sanction to cere- monies which may not be able to plead a divine institution. We have shown you that it was not only in the singing of psalms, but in many other particu- lars, such as the recumbent posture, and the drinking of wine, that the Jews had altered, or added to, the original practice, but that our Savior made no objection to the alteration or addition. He celebrated the Passover just as he found it then used to be celebrated, submitting, so to speak, to tradition and custom. And yet, had there been any thing of a captious spirit, there might perhaps have been matter for doubt or disputation. It might have been urged, with some show of justice, that the innovations were not necessa- rily in keeping with the character of the ordinance; that the recumbent pos- ture, for example, and the drinking of wine, as betokening, or according with, security and gladness, scarcely suited the commemoration of events which had been marked by hurry, agitation, and alarm. And with regard even to the singing of psalms — if it had been admitted that the occasion was one which would well warrant the praising God with loud anthems, it might still have been asked, Why use these par- ticular psalms'? Have we not the Song of Miriam, which, as composed im- mediately after the deliverance from Egypt, would be far more appropriate 1 or have we not the song of Moses? and would not the song of the leader, through whom the Passovpr was insti- tuted, and the emancipation achieved, remind us better of what we owe to God, than the words of one who lived long after the recorded events, when we were settled as a nation, and not wanderers in the desert 1 We think there would have been no difficulty in thus making out, so to speak, a sort of plausible case against the innovations of the Jews in the Pass- over service. Had our Lord been a leader, disposed to make ceremonies the occasion of schism, he might have armed himself with very specious ob- jections, and have urged that there were conscientious grounds for sepa- rating from the communion of the na- tional church. But it is evident that our blessed Savior acknowledged a power in the church of decreeing rites and ceremonies, and of changing those rites and ceremonies "according (as our thirty-fourth Article expresses it) I to the diversities of countries, times, THE PARTING HYMN. 461 and men's manners, so that nothing be ordained against God's word." He did not require that every ceremony should be able to plead a positive command in the Bible, nor that it should prove it- self modelled after the original prac- tice. Had he done this, it is manifest that he must have objected to the ce- remonies in the celebration of the Passover ; for they could not plead a divine institution, and were rather at variance than in accordance with what had been at first appointed or observ- ed. But we may justly conclude that our Lord proceeded on what (were it not for modern cavils) we might call a self-evident principle, that rites and ceremonies are not in themselves any part of the public worship of God ; they are nothing but circumstances and cus- j toms to be observed in the conducting that worship, and may therefore be en- acted and altered as shall seem best to the church. Had the innovations of the Jews interfered, in any measure, with the character of the Passover as a re- ligious ordinance, had they at all op- posed its commemorative office, or militated against it as a sacrifice and a sacrament, we cannot doubt that Christ would have entered his protest, that he would never have given the sanc- tion of his example to what would have been a corruption of the worship of God. This, however, is more than can justly be affirmed of any mere rite or ceremony ; for rites or ceremonies, so long as they are not against Scripture, must be regarded as indifl^erent things, neither good in themselves nor bad; and if they are indifferent, they may be omitted, or introduced, or changed, without at all affecting the act of di- vine worship, and merely in conformi- ty, according to diversity of circum- stances, with the rule of the Apostle, " Let all things be done decently and in order." Perhaps the Jews, in changing the posture in which the Passover was to be eaten, went as near to an interfe- Irence with the ordinance itself as any jmere rite or ceremony could go ; for it might have been urged that a difler- jent, if not an untrue, character was [given to the ordinance, the aspect of [composedness and rest having been [made to take the place of that of haste md agitation. But you are to remem- ber that the circumstances of the Isra- elites were really changed : the Pass- over, as to be commemorated in after times, found them in a very altered position from what they had occupied when the Passover was originally insti- tuted ; and the new rites, which they introduced, did but correspond to this new position ; they interfered neither with the slaying nor with the eating of the lamb ; they were only so far differ- ent from the old as to indicate what was matter of fact in regard of the Jews, that, as their fathers eat the Pass- over in a night of disaster and death, themselves were allowed, through the mercy of God, to eat of it in security and gladness. And it can hardly fail to strike you, that, in such an altera- tion, when distinctly sanctioned by the practice of our Lord, we have a prece- dent for changes which the church may have introduced into the ceremonials of religion. Take, for example, a case which bears close resemblance to that just considered. When the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper was originally in- stituted, the Apostles sat or reclined in the receiving it; whereas it is now the appointment of the church, that we should kneel to receive it. There has been, that is, much of the same depar- ture from the first practice as in the instance of the Passover. And if by the act of kneeling we offered any ado- ration to the bread and the wine, as though we supposed them substantially changed into Christ's body and blood, it is evident that the alteration in the ceremony would be an infringement of the Sacrament itself, and that no church would have right to substitute the kneeling for the sitting. But the kneel- ing at the Communion, as we are ex- pressly taught by the church, is meant only '' for a signification of our humble and grateful acknowledgment of the benefits of Christ therein given to all worthy receivers ;" and the alteration may therefore be said to be just such as was made by the Jews in respect of the Passover — an alteration corre- sponding to altered circumstances : when the Lord's Supper was institu- ted, Christ had not died, and the bene- fits of his death, as conveyed through the Sacrament, were but partially, if at all, understood ; but now that Christ hath died, and the Spirit been given to 4-62 THE PARTING HYMN. explain and apply his finished work, we know that the Lord's Supper is the great instituted means for the commu- nication to our souls of the results of his sacrifice; and surely, if a reclining posture became those who had yet to learn what the Sacrament would do for them, a kneeling may be more appro- priate, when the office of that holy mystery has been more unfolded. But without insisting further on par- ticular instances, which would only un- duly detain us from other and more interesting truths, we venture to take our Lord's conduct, in regard of the ceremonies at the Passover, as estab- lishing the authority of the church to ordain and alter ceremonies and rites, and as strongly condemning those who would make mere ceremonies and rites the excuses for disunion and schism. Our Lord conformed to customs and alterations, for which it would have been impossible to produce divine war- rant, and against which it would not have been difficult to advance some specious objections. And we argue, therefore, that the church is not obli- ged to find chapter and verse for every ceremony which she is pleased to en- join, as though she had no power of settling points of discipline or order, except so far as she can justify the set- tlement by an appeal to inspired au- thority. We argue further, from the instance before us, that the church hav- ing appointed what she judges most for the general good, individuals have no right to separate and oppose, because they do not find the appointment pre- cisely congenial with their feelings or circumstances. Look at Christ and his Apostles — they were about to be part- ed : Christ was just entering upon scenes immeasurably more tremendous had full authoritj'- to appoint such an ordinance ; and Christ and his Apostles would give their testimony to the duty of conformity to all lawful ordinances, whether in unison or not with individu- al feelings. And on this account, as we may venture to believe — or, if not for this purpose, assuredly with this result — though they were stricken in spirit, disquieted, yea, sorely distressed, they would not depart from the chamber till they had done all which was enjoined by the church, and thus shown that they acknowledged her authority ; it was not until " they had sung an hymn," that " they went out into the Mount of Olives." But now let us take another view of this fact. We have just considered the singing of an hymn as inappropriate to the circumstances of Christ and his Apostles; and no doubt there was an apparent unsuitableness which might have been pleaded by those Avho sought an excuse for disobedience to ecclesi- astical rule. Solomon has said, ''As he that taketh away a garment in cold weather, and as vinegar upon nitre, so is he that singeth songs to a heavy heart." And thus the wise man may be considered as having delivered his testimony against the fitness of music and minstrelsy, when there is a weight at the heart, and the spirits are op- pressed. But " a greater than Solomon is here;" and we may perhaps say that it was with the singing of an hymn that Christ prepared himself for his un- known agony. Setting aside all con- siderations drawn from the ordinances of the Church, is it at all strange that our blessed Lord and his disciples should have sung joyous hymns at a moment so full of darkness and dread'? For joyous hymns they were in which than had ever been passed through by 1 they joined : music has its melancholy - any of our race ; the Apostles were full strains as well as its gladdening — the of apprehensions and grief, for their I dirge for the funeral as well as the Lord had announced his departure, and i song for the marriage or the banquet; the announcement had distracted their j and Christ and his Apostles might have minds. What an unseasonable moment thrown the sadness of their spirits into for singing joyous hymns! How natu- the slow, measured cadences of some ral to have said, " This part of the ap- pointed service is not suited to us now ; and, forasmuch as it certainly is not of divine institution, we may surely dis- pense with it, when our hearts are so heavy and sad." But no! it was the ordinance of the church: the church solemn lament. But, as we have just said, they were joyous hymns in Avhich theyjoined. Look at the .Jewish Hallel, and you findit abounding in expressions of confidence and praise : " The Lord is my strength and song, and is become my salvation. The voice of rejoicing THE PABTING HYMN. 463 find salvation is in the tabernacles of the righteous : the right hand of the Lord doeth valiantly. The right hand of the Lord is exalted ; the right hand of the Lord doeth valiantly. I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord." And was it, think you, a strange pre- paration for the Mount of Olives and the Garden of Gethsemane, thus to commemorate the mercies, and chant the praises of the Most High Godl Nay, it is recorded of Luther that, on receiving any discouraging news, he was wont to say, " Come, let us sing the forty-sixth Psalm," — that Psalm which commences with the words, "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble ; therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea." And it were well for us, my brethren, if in seasons of trouble we betook ourselves to praise, and not only to prayer. If we find ourselves in circumstances of difficulty, if dangers surround us, and duties seem too great for our strength, we almost naturally cry unto God, and entreat of him assistance and guar- dianship. And indeed we do right : God has made our receiving condi- tional on our asking ; and we can never be too diligent in supplicating at his hands the supply of our many necessi- ties. But ought we to confine our- selves to prayer, as though praise were out of place when mercies are needed, and onljr became us when they have just been received I Not so: praise is the best auxiliary to prayer ; and he who most bears in mind what has been done for him by God, will be most em- boldened to supplicate fresh gifts from above. We should recount God's mer- cies, we should call upon our souls, and all that is within us, to laud and magnify his name, when summoned to face new trials, and encounter fresh dangers. Would it sound to you strange, if on approaching the cham- ber where, as you knew, the father of a family had just breathed his last, you heard voices mingling, not in a melancholy chant, but rather in one of lofty commemoration, such as might be taken from the Jewish Hallel, " The Lord hath been mindful of us ; he will aless us ; he will bless the house of Is- ; rael, he will bless the house of Aaron"? The Lord is on my side, I will not fear : what can man do unto me 1" Would you be disposed to say that the widow and the orphans, whose voices you re- cognized in the thankful anthem, were strangely employed 1 and that the ut- terances over the dead would have more fittingly been those of earnest petition unto God, of deep-drawn en- treaty for the light of his countenance and the strength of his Spirit 1 Nay, the widow and her orphans, if not actually praying the most effectual of prayers, would be thereby most effectually pre- paring themselves for praying unto God : if, now that their chief earthly stay is removed, they have to enter on a dark and dangerous path, they can- not do better than thus call to mind what the Almighty has proved himself to others and themselves ; the anthem is the best prelude to the supplication ; and their first step toward the Mount of Olives will be all the firmer, if, be- fore they cry, '' Hold thou up our go- ings in thy paths," they join in the song, " His merciful kindness is great towards us, and the truth of the Lord endureth for ever ; praise ye the Lord." We wish you to draw this lesson from the last action of Christ and his Apostles, before they w^ent forth to extraordinary trial. We wish you to observe, and understand, that so far from being unsuited to circumstances of perplexity and danger, the song of praise should at least mingle with the cry of prayer, and that, if you Avould arm yourselves for trouble and for duty, you should recount the marvellous acts of the Lord, as well as supplicate the communications of his grace. This is too much overlooked and neglected by Christians. They are more familiar with the earnest petition than with the grateful anthem. Like the captives in Babylon, they hang their harps upon the willows, when they find themselves in a strange land ; whereas, if they would sing " one of the songs of Zion," it would not only remind them of home, but encourage them to ask assistance and expect deliverance. Make trial of this method, ye who have a dark path before you, and who shrink from en- tering into the cloud. You have of- fered prayer — have you also offered praise ! you have commended your- 464* THB PARTING HYMN. selves to God for the future — have you also commemorated his care of you through the past'? Say not, "How can I sing the Lord's song in a strange land V With this burden upon me, and this prospect before me, it is too much to expect me to do more than pray : who can sing songs with a hea- vy heart V This is the very feeling against which we would warn you. There is no Christian with so great cause of sorrow, as to be without a greater of thankfulness. And the chords of the soul will never give forth so fervent a prayer, as when the Christian has been endeavoring to string them to the chorus of praise. Look at Christ and his Apostles. You will not say that your circumstances can be more distressing than theirs; that there is more, in the peculiarities of the trial, to excuse you from sing- ing " the Lord's song." Yet before they departed — the Redeemer to his terrible agony, the disciples to the dreaded separation — the last thing which they did was to join in the chanting of thankful psalms : it was not until " they had sung an hymn," but then it was, that " they went out into the Mount of Olives." But we have yet to observe, that, so far as praise is a great auxiliary to prayer, and therefore well adapted to circumstances of perplexity and dan- ger, the repetition of thankful psalms might seem sufficient ; whereas, with Christ and his Apostles, there was the singing of such psalms. We think that this fact ought not to be let pass without a more special comment. We are too apt to regard music as a human art, or invention, just because men make certain musical instruments, and compose certain musical pieces. And hence there are Christians who would banish music from the public worship of God, as though unsuited to, or unworthy of, so high and illus- trious an employment. But it is for- gotten, as has been observed by a well-known writer,* that the princi- ples of harmony are in the elements of nature, that, " the element of air was as certainly ordained to give us harmoni- ous sounds in due measure, as to give respiration to the lungs." God has Jones, of Nayland. given us " music in the air, as he hath given us wine in the grape ;" leaving it to man to draw forth the rich melo- dy, as well as to extract the inspiriting juice, but designing that both should be employed to his glory, and used in his service. Wine was eminently con- secrated for religion, when chosen as the sacramental representation of the precious blood of the Redeemer; and a holy distinction ought never to be denied to music, whilst the Psalmist, speaking undoubtedly by the Spirit of God, exclaims, ''Praise him with stringed instruments and organs ; praise him upon the loud cymbals ; praise him upon the high-sounding cymbals." It is not, however, instrumental mu- sic which is mentioned in the text. " They sang an hymn." There is an- other remarkable instance recorded in the New Testament of God's praises having been sung at a strange time, and in a strange place. Paul and Silas, thrust into the inner prison at Philippi, and with their feet made fast in the stocks, had recourse to singing, as though their condition had been pros- perous, and their spirits elated. " And at midnight Paul and Silas prayed, and sang praises unto God, and the prison- ers heard them." They were not con- tent with reminding each the other of the goodness of God, with speaking of his greatness and loving-kindness : "they sang praises unto God;" and that, too, with so loud a voice, that the other prisoners heard them, though con- fined in the remotest parts of the dun- geon. In like manner, Christ and his Apostles " sang an hymn:" they were not satisfied with repeating an hymn; and we may certainly gather from this, that God's praises ought to be sung rather than spoken, that singing is the more appropriate vehicle, even when circumstances may be such as to make music seem almost out of place. It may, we think, fairly be said that the power of singing has not been sufficiently considered as one of the Creator's gifts to his creatures, and, therefore, intended to be used to his glory. We recognize this fact in re- gard of the power of speech : we ac- knowledge that God must have en* dowed man with the faculty of uttering articulate sounds, and have clothed his tongue with language; and we con- THE PARTIKG HVMN. 465 fess that tthis very fact renders us re- sponsible, in a high sense, for our words, and destroys all surprise that words are to be made a criterion at the last. A noble gift is abused, whensoever an idle word is spoken : whjr then should we marvel at the assertion of our Lord, "I say unto you, that every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give ac- count thereof in the day of judgment 1" " For by thy words thou shalt be justi- fied, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned." But, to quote again from the writer : already referred to,* "the faculty, by I which the voice forms musical sounds, i is as wonderful as the flexure of the organs of speech in the articulation of words." Considered as the result of cer- tain mechanical arrangements, singing is perhaps even more marvellous than speaking, or gives a stronger witness to the skill and the power of the Crea- tor. This is not the place for bringing proof of such assertion ; but they who have considered the human throat as a musical instrument, and have examined, on this supposition, its structure and capacity, declare that it presents " such a refinement on mechanism as exceeds all description." And we are not to doubt that God gave this faculty to man, that he might employ it on his praises. The Psalmist having said, ■' Awake, psaltery and harp," exclaims, ' I myself will awake early :" it did not content him, that instruments of music should start from their silence, and give orth the slumbering harmony ; he re- garded himself as an instrument more lurious, and more costly, than any ramed by a human artificer ; and, herefore, would he too awake and ;well with his voice the tide of melody. But singing, like music in general, •.as been too much given up by the )hurch to the world ; it has not been ufliciently considered, and cultivated, s designed for religious ends, and help- il to religious feelings. And hence, )r the most part, our psalmody is dis- reditable to our congregations j it is ither given over to a few hired sing- rs, as though we were to praise God /■ deputy ; or is left with the children the national schools, as though, in owing older, we had less cause for Jones. thankfulness. Let me say that the ef- forts which are now being systemati- cally made throughout the country to teach our population to sing, should be regarded with great interest and plea- sure by the christian. Such efforts have a more immediate bearing than is, per- haps, commonly thought, on the na- tional piety. I do not merely mean that there is a humanizing power in music, and that the poor, taught to sing, are likely to be less wild, and less prone to disorder, and therefore more accessible to the ministrations of reli- gion. Not, indeed, that I would make no account of this, for I thoroughly be- lieve that, in improving the tastes of a people, you are doing much for their moral advancement. I like to see our cottagers encouraged to train the rose and the honeysuckle round their doors, and our weavers, as is often the fact, dividing their attention between their looms and their carnations ; for the man who can take care of a flower, and who is all alive to its beauty, is far less likely than another, who has no delight in such recreations, to give himself up to gross lusts and habits. But, independently on this, if singing were generally taught, the psalmody in our churches could not fail to be gen- eralljT^ improved. And I am quite sure that this could not take place without, by the blessing of God, a great spiri- tual benefit. When many voices join heartily in prayer, it is hardly possi- ble to remain undevout; when many voices join heartilj'' in praise, it is hard- ly possible to remain indifferent. Eve- ry one feels this. In a congregation, where the responses are generally left to the clerk and the children, how dif- ficult is it to pray ! whereas, if the ma- jority join, one is drawn in almost un- consciously, and cannot keep back his cordial amen. Thus, also, in a congre- gation where few attempt to sing, how diflicult it is to magnify the Lord ! but who can resist the rush of many voices] whose bosom does not swell, as old and young, rich and poor, mingle their notes of adoration and thankfulness 1 You may tell me that there is not necessarilj'' any religion in all this emo- tion. I know that ; and I would not have you mistake emotion for religion. But we are creatures so constituted as to be acted on through our senses and 59 466 CjESAR S HOUSEHOLD. feelings ; and whilst emotion is not re- ligion, it will often be a great step to- wards it. The man who has imbibed, so to speak, the spirit of prayer and of praise from the surrounding assembly, is far more likely to give an attentive ear to the preached word, and to re- ceive from it a lasting impression, than another whose natural coldness has been increased by that of the mass in which he found himself placed. In teaching, therefore, a people to sing with the voice " the songs of Zion," we cannot but believe that, God helping, much is done towards teaching them to sing with the understanding and the heart. A faculty is developed, which God designed for his glory, but which has, comparatively, been allowed to remain almost useless. Yes, a faculty which God designed for his glory 5 and, if so designed, it cannot lie idle with- out injury, nor be rightly exercised without advantage. And I seem to learn, from our text, that it is not enough that we praise God with speech. Christ and his Apostles "sang an hymn," ere " they went out into the Mount of Olives." What bad music, cheerful and animated music, to do with so sad and solemn an occasion 1 Nay, there is mu- sic in heaven : they who stand on the " sea of glass mingled with fire," have "the harps of God" in their hands: " they sing the song of Moses, the ser- vant of God, and the song of the Lamb :" why then should music ever be out of place with those whose affections are above ? It would not be out of place in the chamber of the dying believer. He has just received, through the holy myste- ry of the Eucharist, the body and the blood of his blessed Eedeemer. And now his own failing voice, and the voices of relatives and friends, join in chanting words which the church di- rects to be either said or sung, as the conclusion of the sacramental service; " Glory be to God on high, and in earth peace, good-will towards men. We praise thee, we bless thee, we worship thee, we glorify thee, we give thanks to thee for thy great glory, O Lord God, heavenly King, God the Father Almighty." Wonder ye, that, when there was the option either to say or to sing, they chose the singing at such a moment 1 Nay, they all felt that they had a rough hill to climb ; and they re- membered, that, when Christ and his Apostles had finished their last supper, " they sang an hymn," and then " went out into the Mount of Olives." SERMON V CiESAR'S HOUSEHOLD, " All the saints salute you, chiefly they that are of Cresar's household.'* — Philippians, 4 : 22 The earlier ages of the church seem to have been distinguished by a love which made all christians regard them- selves as members of one family. The saying of our Lord, " By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another," appears to have been successfully taken as fur- nishing their rule of conduct ; for " See how these christians love one another,' was the common remark of enemies and persecutors. CXSAR S HOUSEHOLD. 467 And the observable thing is, that the love of whicii we speak Avas actually the love of christians as christians, ir- respective altogether of other claims upon affection. The moment a man embraced Christianity, he was regard- ed as a brother, and felt to be a bro- ther, by the whole christian body : a thousand hearts at once beat kind- ly towards him ; and multitudes, who were never likely to see him in the flesh, were instantly one with him in spirit. It may admit of great doubt whether there be much, in our own day, of that which thus distinguished the beginning of Christianity. The love of christians because they are chris- tians, no regard being had to country or condition — is this still a strongly marked characteristic of those who profess themselves the disciples of the Redeemer ? There was something very touching and beautiful in Christ's pro- mise to such as should forsake all for his sake : " There is no man that hath left house, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or children, or lands, for my sake and the Gospel's, but he shall receive a hundred-fold now in this time, houses, and brethren, and sisters, and mothers, and children, and lands." How was such a promise fulfilled, ex- cept that they, who had been cast out for their religion from their own fami- lies and possessions, found themselves admitted at once into a new household, and endowed with new property, even the household and the property of the whole christian community"? For eve- ry natural relation whom they had lost, they obtained instantly a hundred spi- ritual ; and the goods of which they had been spoiled, returned to them, a thousand-fold multiplied, in the posses- sions of those who received them as chil- dren and brethren. Thus was strikingly I'erified a description long before given of God by the Psalmist: "He setteth he solitary in families" — for they who .vere to all appearance abandoned, left orphaned and alone in the world, found hemselves surrounded by kinsmen. But it is only, we fear, in a very li- nited sense, that the like can be af- firmed of the christians of our own l-ay. Yet the criterion of genuine Ihristianity remains just what it was: We know that we have passed from leath unto life, because we love the brethren : he that loveth not his bro- ther abideth in death." In our own time the ends of the earth are being wondrously brought together : there is an ever-growing facility of commu- nication between country and coun- try ; and this must rapidly break down many barriers, and bring far-scattered tribes into familiar intercourse. In earlier times, nation was widely divid- ed from nation : the inhabitants of dif- ferent lands were necessarily almost strangers to each other ; and you could not have expected an approximation to universal brotherhood. But then it was, in the face of all obstacles to per- sonal communion, that the spirit of Christianity showed its comprehensive and amalgamating energies : the name of Christ was as a spell to annihilate distance ; to plant the cross in a land, sufficed to make that land one with dis- tricts removed from it by the diameter of the globe. Alas for the colder tem- per of modern times ! We have made paths across the waters, we have ex- alted the valleys, we have brought low the hills, so that we can visit every region, and scarce seem to leave our home 5 but where is that glowing and ample charity, which would throb to- wards christians whom we have never seen, and make us feel that our own household includes the far off and the near, all who worship the same God, and trust in the same Mediator 1 We have been led into these re- marks, from observing, in the aposto- lical writings, the affectionate greet- ings which the members of one church send to those of another. For the most part, these churches had no in- tercourse the one with the other; they were widely separated by situation ; and, had it not been for the bond of a common faith, their members would have been as much strangers as though they had belonged to difi'erent orders of being. And yet you would judge, from the warm remembrances, the kindly messages, which pass between them, that they were associated by most intimate relationship, that they were friends who had spent years together, or kinsmen who had been brought up beneath the same roof. When St. Paul wrote thus to the Co- lossians, " For I would that ye knew what great conflict I have for you, and 468 CjESAR s hottseiiold. for them at Laodicea, and for as many as have not seen my face in the flesh," you would have thought, from the en- ergy of his expressions, that it must have been for some dear and long-tried acquaintance that he was thus deeply interested, had he not immediately de- scribed the objects of his solicitude, as those who had not seen his face in the flesh. And, in like manner, when you read the salutations sent by one church to another, the warm and cordial greet- ings, you would conclude that these churches had held familiar intercourse, that their members had conversed much together, and mingled in the intimacies of life, if you did not know, from other sources of information, that they were strangers to each other, except as all belonging to Christ's mystical body. So strong a link of association was Christianity then felt to be ! Christians knew that there were christians in distant lands, whom they were never likely to visit, and who were never likely to visit them — but what mat- tered it, that they were not to see one another in the flesh % They were grafted into the same vine, they were washed in the same blood, they were quickened by the same Spirit ; and feeling, therefore, as though one mo- ther had born them, and one home sheltered them, they poured forth hearty salutations, and multiplied ex- pressions of the very tenderest affec- tion. It was thus with the Romans and the Philippians. They were widely re- moved the one from the other ; and probably there had been little or no personal intercourse between the mem- bers of the churches. Yet you find, from our text, that the christians at Rome felt kindly towards the chris- tians at Philippi, and charged St. Paul with their sentiments of esteem and good-will. " All the saints salute you" — not, you observe, a few of the most distinguished, of those who had advanced farthest in the charity en- joined by the Gospel — but " all the saints salute you." blessed estate of a Christian Church, when every member had a cordial greeting to send to persons whom he had never beheld, but whom he loved, as loving the Sa- vior with himself. You will, however, naturally sup- pose that we selected our present text not so much as containing the general salutation of one church by another, as on account of its marking out cer- tain individuals as specially earnest in their greetings. '' All the saints salute you ; chiefly, they that are of Csesar's household." There was a friendly sa- lutation from all the members of the Roman Church ; but the most friendly issued from those who appertained to the household of Csesar. And we con- sider this as an intimation which ought not to be cursorily passed over. We think that truths and lessons of no common interest may be drawn from this brief reference to the christians who were to be found in the imperial circle. We design, therefore, to con- fine ourselves to the examining this reference, to the endeavoring to dis- cover what it may imply, and what it may enjoin. We are aware, that, at first, it will probably appear to you a barren statement, the announcement of a simple fact, on which no comment is needed, and from which little, if any, instruction can be drawn. But if you would read the Bible with this rule in mind, " All Scripture is given by in- spiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness," you would find that nothing is stated which could be omitted Avithout loss ; and that often, where there is least to strike the superficial reader, there is most to repay the diligent student. Without then further preface, and without proposing any plan of dis- course, which might perhaps only im- pede our inquiries, we ask your atten- tion, whilst endeavoring to show what truths and lessons are furnished by the information that there were saints in the household of Csesar, and that these were foremost in greeting the saints at Philippi. Now you are to observe that the throne of the Caesars was at this time occupied by Nero, a monster rather than a man, whose vices and cruelties will make his name infamous to the very end of the world. Certainly, if ever there was an atmosphere uncon- genial to Christianity, it may be sup- posed to have been that of the court and palace of this bloody debauchee. It ordinarily happens that the charac- Cesar's household. 469 ter of the prince gives the tone to that of his courtiers and attendants 5 and it would therefore be hardly imaginable that the household of a Nero was not composed in the main of the fierce and the dissolute. And it should further be observed, that there was a direct hostility to Christianity on the part of the emperor; he became eventually a most bitter persecutor of the chris- tians, and St. Paul himself perished by his sword. Where, then, on all human calculation, was there less likelihood of the Gospel gaining footing than in the court and household of Nero 1 Yet so true was St. Paul's assertion, that the weapons of his warfare were " mighty through God to the cast- ing down of strong-holds," that there were men of Caesar's household wor- thy the high title of saints ; men not secretly, but openly, christians ; not ashamed of their professions, but wil- ling to give it all publicity by send- ing greetings to christians in other cities of the earth. And our first in- quiry will naturally be, as to the agency which brought round so unlikely a re- sult ; how it came to pass, that an en- trance was achieved, and a firm footing gained for Christianity, where there might have seemed a moral impossi- bility against its admission, or, at all events, its settlement % Your minds will naturally turn, in answer to this inquiry, to the miraculous gifts with which St. Paul was endowed, to the credentials which he was enabled to furnish of the divine origin of Chris- tianity, and to the power and persua- siveness with which he set forth its loctrines. You will remember with .vhat noble intrepidity he rose up be- "ore the sages of Greece, and won over ;ven proud philosophy by his reason- ng and eloquence ; and you will fur- her call to mind, how, when he spake mflinchingly to Felix, the slave of base usts, the haughty Roman trembled, as hough the judgment had already been pon him with its terrors. And whilst 'lere are these registered achieve- lents of the great Apostle to the Gen- les, you think it quite intelligible lat he should have made proselytes ven from the household of Nero : you erhaps imagine him working some reat miracle, in order to compel the tention of the emperor and his court, and then preaching, with a more than human oratory, the Gospel of Christ, till slumbering consciences were start- led, and bold vices abashed. Indeed you do right in thus ascrib- ing extraordinary power to the mira- cles and sermons of St. Paul : we could have felt no surprise, supposing this Apostle to have had opportunities of audience, had even Nero trembled like Felix, and had converts been won from the courtiers of Rome, as well as from the philosophers of Athens. But, ne- vertheless, in this instance the expla- nation utterly fails : St. Paul was now a prisoner, kept in close confinement j and, though allowed to receive those who came unto him, was not at liberty, as at other times, to labor openly and vigorously at propagating the Gospel. He could not go, as you have supposed him, like Moses and Aaron, with the rod in his hand, and compel by his mir- acles the attention of a profligate king, and then deliver, in the name of the living God, the message of rebuke and the prophecy of vengeance. And yet it was at this very time, when the chief instrument in the diffusion of Christi- anity seemed comparatively disabled, that the great triumph was won, and the imperial household gave members to the church. Najr, and more than this, it appears to have been actually in consequence of his being a prisoner for the faith, rather than a preacher of the faith, that St. Paul was instrumental to the obtaining this victory. If you refer to the commencement of this Epistle to the Philippians, you will find the Apostle ascribing to his imprison- ment the very result of which Ave are now seeking the cause. He expresses himself fearful lest the Philippians should have thought that the afflictions with which he had been visited, had impeded the progress of the Gospel. He assures them that quite the con- trary effect had been produced : " I would ye should understand, brethren, that the things which have happened unto me, have fallen out rather unto the furtherance of the Gospel ; so that my bonds in Christ are manifest in all the palace, and in all other places." Thus, you see, it was not by his ser- mons, it was literally by his bonds, that the attention of the court had been attracted to Christianity: it was as a 470 CjESAr's household. captive that he had mastered rulers, and with his chain that he had struck off their fetters. In the following verse he adds another statement as to the efficaciousness of his bonds : '' And many of the brethren in the Lord, waxing confident by my bonds, are much more bold ^o speak the word without fear." Hence there were two ways, as it would appear, in which his bonds gave enlargement to Chris- tianity. The patience and meekness with which he submitted to long and unjust confinement, drew public atten- tion, and compelled men to feel that, where there was such willingness to suffer, there must be the conscious- ness of advocating truth. And then the supports and consolations which were ministered to him by God, taught other christians that they could not be lo- sers through intrepidity in preaching the Gospel, and therefore nerved them to greater energy in the work from which Paul himself was temporarily withdrawn. In these ways were the Apostle's bonds influential; so that when, to all appearance, he was able to do least, when his power of usefulness seemed the most limited, then was it that he won admission for Christianity into the circle from which you would have thought it most surely excluded. We cannot but think that a great lesson was thus given, as to God's power of overruling evil for good, of producing the most signal results when the employed instrumentality appears the least adequate. How apt are we to imagine, when a man is overtaken by sickness, or withdrawn, through one cause or another, from more active duty, that his period of usefulness has closed ! How ready are we to lament over what we call a mysterious dispen- sation, as the Roman christians may have done over the imprisonment of St. Paul! But who shall say that it does not often come to pass, that the minister preaches far more effectually from his sick-bed, than ever he did from his pulpit? The report, which goes forth amongst his people, of the patience with which he bore pain, and the calmness with which he met death, will perhaps do more towards over- coming their resistance to the Gospel, than all his energy effected, whilst he gave himself night and day to the bringing them to repentance. Or again, was it whilst they were free to move through a land, and to wrestle boldly with prevailing errors and supersti- tions, that martyrs and confessors did most for the cause of God and of truth '? Was it not rather when they were ac- tually in the clutches of the persecu- tor, pining in dungeons, or dragged to the scaflold \ The flame which con- sumed them, prevailed most to the scattering the spiritual darkness ; and their dust was as seed whence moral verdure sprang. Oh, let no one ever think, that, because unable to exert himself openly and actively, as he once did, for God, he has no duties to per- form, no services to render, no rewards to secure. A true christian is never, if we may use a common expression, laid by : God makes use of him in sickness and in health, in life and in death. And the influence which proceeds from him, when languishing on his couch, redu- ced to poverty, or overwhelmed with affliction, is often incomparably great- er than when, in the fulness of his strength, with every engine at his dis- posal, he moved amongst his fellow- men, and took the lead in each benevo- lent enterprise. It is on sick-beds that the sustaining power of Christianity is most displayed : it is amid multiplied troubles that its professed comforts are put to the proof: it is by dying men that its best promises are shown to have been indeed made by God. And even when the grave has closed upon a righteous man, is it not often true that ''he, being dead, yet speaketh'?" His memory admonishes and encour- ages, and that, too, more powerfully than even his living example. Let no one, then, conclude himself disabled from doing God service, be- cause he can no longer perform active duties, nor take visible part in advanc- ing Christ's kingdom upon earth. Re- signation has its victories as well as intrepidity : converts may be made through meekness in trial, as well as through boldness in enterprise. And if we would reconcile ourselves to the apparent suspension of our usefulness; if we would learn that God may be em- ploying us most, when he seems to have most withdrawn us from employment; let us ponder the fact brought before us by our text. I think upon Rome, the CESAR'S HOUSEHOLD. 471 I metropolis of the world, upon the i haughty Cfesars, giving laws to well I nigh all the nations of the earth. that Christianity might make way into I the imperial halls ! I should feel as though it were indeed about to tri- I umph over heathenism, were it to pene- \\ trate the palace of Nero. And then I [I hear that St. Paul is approaching to- il wards Rome — St. Paul, who has car- }j ried the Gospel to the east and west, »;i the north and south, and every where »i made falsehood quail before truth. My ■f expectations are raised. This great (champion of Christianity may succeed I where there is most to discourage, and ; gain over Nero's courtiers, if not Nero himself. But then I hear that St. Paul comes as a prisoner : I see him used as a criminal, and debarred from all opportunity of publishing the Gospel to the illustrious and powerful. My hopes are destroyed. The great Apos- tle seems to me completely disarmed ; and the picture which I had fondly drawn of Christianity growing domi- nant through God's blessing on his la- bors, disappears when I behold him detained iii captivity. Alas for human short-sightedness and miscalculation ! Never again let me dare reckon God's servants least powerfully, when least visibly instrumental in promoting his cause. St. Paul is a prisoner ; St. Paul cannot go boldly to the court, and preach to the mighty ; but, in less than jtwo years, he is able to declare, '' My bonds are manifest in all the palace," and to enumerate amongst the saints, who send greetings to the Philippi- ans, " chiefly them that are of Caesar's household." We go on to observe to you — and the observation is of prime importance that a man cannot be placed in cir- umstances so disadvantageous to pie- y as to put it out of his power to give leed to the duties of religion. We ave already spoken to you of the cha- acter of Nero, and of the profligacy hich must have deformed his house- iiold and court. We have admitted hat, if ever there were an atmosphere jmcongenial to Christianity, it must ave been that of the Roman court, vith such an emperor at its head. We ould not have been surprised, had the eligion of Jesus striven in vain for dmission ; and it was the little appa- rent likelihood of there being saints in the household of Caesar, which sug- gested the foregoing inquiry as to the instrumentality through which the Gos- pel succeeded in making these con- verts. But, nevertheless, the converts Avere made, and that too, you are care- fully to remember, not through any extraordinary agency, seeing that the employed preaching was not that of St. Paul, but only of subordinate min- isters. Certainly such an instance as this should show the worthlessness of an excuse with which men would some- times palliate their neglect of religion — that they are exposed to such temp- tations, surrounded by such hinderances, or liable to such opposition, that it is vain for them to attempt the great du- ties of repentance and faith. We chal- lenge any man to show that he is more unfavorably circumstanced than the members of Nero's household must have been. We challenge him to show any likelihood that the profession of religion would expose him to greater dangers, bring on him more obloquy, or cause severer loss, than might have been expected to follow the exchange of heathenism for Christianity, by those who bore office in the Roman empe- ror's court. And whilst we have be- fore us full evidence, that even the servants of Nero could overcome every disadvantage, and '' shine as lights" in the church of the Redeemer, we can never admit that the temporal circum- stances of any man disqualify him for the being a true christian, or put such obstacles in his way as excuse his not advancing to eminence as a believer. We readily acknowledge that more appears done for one man than for ano- ther ; that some circumstances may be said to conduce to the making men pi- ous, whilst others increase the diffi- culty of separation from the world, and consecration to God. But we can be certain, from the known strength of divine grace, and its sufficiency 16 all the ends of the renewal and perfecting of our nature, that, under every possi- ble disadvantage, there may be a striv- ing with evil, and a following after good, in obedience to the precepts, and in hope of the recompences, of the Gospel. We will not, at present, discuss whether it be a man's dutjr, when he feels his circumstances unfa- 472 CjESAR S HOUSEHOLD. vorable to personal religion, to labor to escape from those circumstances; whether the courtier should flee the court where there are incitements to evil, the merchant the traffic which burdens him with cares, or the servant the household where godliness is held in contempt. We may find opportuni- ty hereafter of treating this point ; Ave now only say, that the case may often be one in which there is no escape from the circumstances which make piety difficult, and in which the duty of re- maining in the disadvantageous posi- tion may be as clear as that of strug- gling against its disadvantages. But we contend that, whensoever such is the case, it is no apology for an individu- al's continuing void of personal reli- gion, that he would have great difficul- ties to wrestle with in becoming reli- gious. The individual may fasten on these difficulties, and urge them in ex- cuse, when conscience admonishes him as to the great duties of godliness. But the excuse will not bear investigation ; forasmuch as it assumes that God has put it out of the man's power to pro- vide for his soul's safety in eternity ; and to assume this is to contradict the Divine word, and throw scorn on the Divine attributes. We take, for example, the instance most naturally suggested by our text, that of a servant in an irreligious fami- ly. We have great sympathy with per- sons so circumstanced : we count their situation one of no common difficulty. Their superiors set them a bad exam- ple, an example of sabbath-breaking, of neglect of all religion, and, perhaps, even of undisguised vice. Few oppor- tunities are afforded them of attending public worship ; and they have but lit- tle time for private devotion. If in- clined to give heed to religion, they cannot but perceive that any indication of piety would perhaps lose them the favor of their master, and bring upon them the ridicule of their associates. We say again that we have great sym- pathy with an individual thus situated : we feel that he has more than a com- mon battle to fight, if he stand forth as a candidate for immortality. But there is nothing in his position to make it impracticable that he become truly religious, nor excusable that he defer the season of providing for the soul. Be his difficulties what they may, we can be confident that they would rapid- ly disappear before the earnest resolve of seeking '' first the kingdom of God and his righteousness." He has but to begin, and presently would he find that obstacles, which appeared insurmount- able, are gradually lowered, and that, if he have to encounter all which he dreaded, it is in a strength which grows with the exigence. What we fear for this man, when we know him plied with the remonstrances of conscience, it is not that, if he set himself fearless- ly to regulate his conduct by the re- vealed will of God, he may find that he has not time enough for religion, or that the trials of his station are too great to be surmounted ; it is only that he may shield himself behind his con- fessed disadvantages, and hold himself blameless in not making an attempt, where the likelihood of success seems so slight. We would come down upon him, in his moment of indecision, when conscience is rebuking his neglect of the one thing needful, and when he strives to parry the rebuke, by asking how he can attend to religion whilst the very air which he breathes seems impregnated with Avickednessl We will hear nothing of an impossibility. Time may be made, prayer may be of- fered, the Bible may be read, vice may be forsaken, contempt may be braved, and the Spirit of the living God fails no man who is not false to himself. And if he plead the ungodliness of the family in which he is placed, and main- tain it not to be expected that righte- ousness should be acquired, where there is every thing to fasten down a man to evil, we require of him to go with us in thought to the household of Nero. We tell him of the depravity of that scourge and disgrace of human- kind, we describe to him the fierce profligacy which pervaded his court; we show him how it was like rushing into the flames, then and there to em- brace Christianity : and we leave him to think, if he dare, that any scene, or association, can excuse the neglect of religion, when St. Paul could single out, from the whole mass of Koman christians, " chiefly t3iem that were of Cassar's household." We proceed to what we reckon the most important of the remarks which C^SAR S HOUSEHOLD. 473 we have to ofler on the passage which I religion which too often abound in the forms our subject of discourse. You palaces of princes. But it would make will observe that the saints, of whom all the difference if he were a courtier St. Paul speaks in the text, not only | at the time of his being first made to belonged to Cassar's household at the I feel that he had a soul: a court is a time of their conversion to christi- lawful, though a dangerous, residence : anity, but remained in that household after their conversion. It is evident that they did not feel it their duty to abandon the stations in which Pro- vidence had placed them, and seek others apparently more favorable to the growth of religion. And we may conclude that their decision was right, for, having direct intercourse with St. Paul, who could furnish them with and it may not only be allowable, it may even be required, that he should continue where he is, and take advan- tage of his position to adorn and dif- fuse Christianity. It might not look like a saint to seek employment in the household of Csesar ; but it may be the very part of a saint not to withdraw from the household, and descend into humble life. A religious servant mifjht rules of conduct derived immediately not be justified in wilfully entering an from God, we cannot doubt that they I irreligious family, where he knew that did what ought to have been done. So j piety would be discountenanced in that it does not at all follow that a ; every possible way ; but if he have man is to withdraw himself from cir- j become religious whilst serving in the cumstances of danger and difficulty, j irreligious family, it may be lawful for and strive to place himself in a condi- I him to remain, nay, it may be unlaw- tion where there shall be less tempta- j ful for him to leave : it is lawful for tion or opposition. We cannot, indeed, \ him to remain, if he be not required to think that a converted man would be I act against his conscience ; it is un- ustified in seeking employment where lawful for him to leave, if distinct op- le knew that it would be specially diffi- portunity be afforded him of doing ;ult to cultivate religion: but we can i honor to God, and promoting Christ's )elieve that he might be justified in re- cause. And this latter supposition will aining his employment, supposing him probably hold good in the majority of hus placed at the time of conversion. [ cases. When one member of an irre- ?o desert his employment, because it I ligious household is converted, we re- lade religion difficult, would be to de- j gard him as the particle of leaven, lare that the grace, which had con- erted him, in spite of disadvantages, 'ould not suffice to the establishing id perfecting him ; and thus would is first step mark a distrust of God's pirit, which would augur but ill for s after progress. If an employment ere in itself sinful, if it actually could It be carried on without sin, there placed by God in the midst of an un- sound mass ; and the circumstances must be very peculiar, which would seem to us to warrant the withdraw- ment of this particle, so that the mass should be again void of any righteous element. We have great pleasure in contem- plating the moral power with which ould be no room for debate; it must i God has invested the meanest of his ' abandoned at once, though utter | people. It is too common to judge « stitution might seem the inevitable [ power by station, and to compute the < nsequence. But if the employment ! influence which a man may exert over 1 only dangerous, if it only require a ' others, by the temporal advantages seater * measure of circumspection, I which fall to his lot. But there is a ^rilance, and boldness, the forsaking power in religion, irrespective alto- i rnay prove timidity rather than pru- gether of worldly station: a power 'ice; a disposition to evade, rather which may indeed be used more ex- tensively, if its possessor have com- t in to conquer. ^Ve doubt, for example, whether a nn, roused to the great work of the SI ing the soul, could lawfully seek to pee himself in the midst of the temp- tlons of a court, and surround him- ' with those hinderances to spiritual mand of other forces besides, but which may work the very finest re- sults, supposing him to have nothing else to wield. We refer chiefly to the power of a consistent example ; and we should confidently say to the religi- 60 474 C^SAH S HOUiEHOLI>. ous servant in the irreligious family, that it is hardly possible to overrate the service which he, or she, may render to the cause of Christianity. We are not supposing the servant to travel beyond the immediate duties of his station, for it is no recommendation of religion when persons put themselves j forward, and assume offices to which they have never been called. We only suppose the servant to carry his Chris- tianity in all his occupations, and this will be sure to make him the most re- spectful, faithful, and diligent in the domestic establishment. He will be quickly distinguished from others by closer attention to his master's inter- ests, by greater care of his master's property, by a stricter adherence to truth, and by a more obliging and sub- missive deportment. It is nothing to tell us that, often, where there is a re- ligious profession, there are few or none of these characteristics; this is only telling us that hypocrisy is con- fined to no class of life, but may flour- ish equally in the kitchen and parlor. Let there be real religion, and what- ever a man's station, it will show itself in the performance of the duties of that station. The rule admits no ex- ceptions, for religion seats itself in the heart, and thence influences all the actions. Therefore, if there be one, in a mass of irreligious domestics, whom the Spirit of God has brought to repentance and faith, that one will rapidly 'distinguish himself from the rest by superior civility, diligence and honesty. And it is just because true religion will thus necessarily display itself in the practice, that we ascribe to it a power, in every rank of life, of acting silently upon others, and assimilating them to itself. Let the irreligious master perceive that there is no one in his household so trustworthy as the professed disciple of Christ, no one on whose word he can place such depend- ence, no one who serves him v/ith equal industry and alacrity ; and it can hardly fail but that this master will gradually receive an impression favor- able to religion, whatever may have been hitherto his opposition and pre- judice. There is something mightily ennobling in this ; for the meanest in a household, whose days are consumed in the lowest drudgeries of life, is thus represented as invested with a high power of winning triumphs for Christi- anity, and turning many to righteous- ness. There may be families to which the preacher of the G ospel can gain no access ; they will not come to listen to him on the Sabbath, and would scowl on him as an intruder in the week. And what instrumentality is there, through which to act on such families, barred up, as they are, against, both the public and the private ministrations of the word 1 Nothing would be so hope- ful as the instrumentality of pious do- mestics; and, therefore, God forbid that such domestics should hastily withdraw themselves from the house- holds. We look to the pious servant to do what the minister of the Gospel has no opportunities of doing, to pub- lish and recommend the doctrine of Christ, not by officious interference, and unbecoming reproof, and unasked for advice ; but by blamelessness of • conduct, by devotedness to duty, by fidelity, by humility, by obligingness. We send that servant as our mission- ary into the very midst of the inaccesp sible family ; not to deliver messages with his lip, but to deliver them through his life ; and we can almost venture to predict, that if he do indeed, according to St. Paul's direction to servants, " adorn the doctrine of God the Savior in all things," it will gradually come to pass that religion conciliates some measure of respect, that those above him, and around him, inquire into his motives, and perhaps even seek for themselves Avhat Avorks so beautifully in another. But if we may fairly contend that such an influence as this is wielded by a righteous domestic in an unrighte- ous family, we can feel no surprise, that, when God had won to himselt servants from amongst the servants of Nero, he permitted, and perhaps even commanded, their remaining in the service of the profligate emperor. Who knows whether there may not, at first, have been a solitary convert, one who held but a mean place in the im- perial household, and who may have desired to escape at once from a scene where there seemed to be so many by whom he might be injured, so few to jto whom he could do goodl But he may lij. CXSAR S HOUSEHOLD. 475 have been admonished to remain ; and by the mere force of a consistent de- portment, he may have borne down much of the opposition to christianitjr, till at last, though he prevailed not to the bringing over the bloody emperor himself, he was surrounded by a goodly company of believers, and a church of the Redeemer rose in the very midst of the palace of the CcBsars. And whether or not it were thus, through the influence of a solitary convert, that the religion of Jesus established itself in the most unpromising scene, the great truth remains beyond contro- versy, that a post is not to be forsaken because it cannot be occupied without peril to personal piety. Let, there- fore, any amongst yourselves, who may be disposed to abandon the sta- tion in which God has placed them, because of its dangers and trials, con- sider whether they may not have been thus circumstanced for the very pur- pose of being useful to others; and whether, then, it does not become hem to persist in hope, rather than to desert it in fear. For very difficult ivould it be to show that any can have fnore cause to seek a change of ser- vice, than men converted from amongst he courtiers and domestics of Nero j md, nevertheless, these christians, vith an apostle for their immediate nstructor, adhered steadfastly to the employments in which conversion had ound them ; so thlit they Avere to be nown by the striking description, The saints that are of Caisar's house- old." But we have not yet exhausted the { istructive truths whicii seem fairly | educible from the simple statement | f our text. We felt, as we insisted i n the last lesson — the lesson as to the I uty of remaining in a perilous posi- on — that some might feel as though e required them to injure themselves I r the benefit of others ; and when it | the soul which is at stake, there may _j doubts whether a sacrifice such as is can be lawful. We maintained to be right that Ccesar's household lould not be deserted by the saints, cause those saints, by remaining ere, might be instrumental to the nversion of others to Christianity. It, surely, it is a christian's first ty to give heed to his own growth in grace; Low then can it be right that, with the vague hope of benefiting others, he should continue amongst hinderances to his own spiritual ad- vancement 1 Brethren, of this we may be certain, that, wheresoever God makes it a man's duty, there will he make it his interest to remain. If he employ one of his servants in turning others from sin, he will cause the employment to con- duce to that servant's holiness. Is there no indication of this in the words of our text \ We lay the em- phasis now upon '' chiefly," " chieliv they that are of Cesar's household." Of all the Roman christians, the foremost in that love, which is the prime fruit of the Spirit, were those who were found amongst the courtiers and attendants of Nero, and who probably remained in his service for the express purpose of endeavoring to promote the cause of the Gospel. Then it is very evident that these Christians sustained no per- sonal injury, but rather outstripped, in all which should characterize believers, others who might have se.emed more advantageously placed. Neither do we feel any surprise at this : it is just the result for which we might have naturally looked. Is it the absence of temptation, is it the want of trial, which is most favorable to the growth of vital Christianity 1 is it, when there is least to harass a chris- tian, to put him on his guard, or keep him on the alert, that he is most like- ly to become spiritually great 1 If so, then men were right in former times, who fancied it most for the interest of the soul that they should absolutely seclude themselves from the world, and, withdrawing to some lonely her- mitage, hold communion with no being but God. But this we believe to have been an error. The anchorite, who never mixed with his fellow-men, and who was never exposed to the tempta- tions resulting from direct contact with the world, might easily persuade himself of his superior sanctity, and as easily deceive himself. He might sup- pose his evil passion subdued, his cor- rupt propensities eradicated, whereas, the real state of the case might be, that the evil passions were only quiet because not solicited, and that the pro- pensities were not urged because there 476 CJESAVJS HOUSEHOLD. was nothing to excite them. Had he been brought away from his hermit- age, and again exposed to temptation, it is far from improbable that he, who had won to himself a venerated name by his austerities, and who was pre- sumed to have quite mastered the ap- petites and desires of an unruly nature, would have yielded to the solicitations Avith which he found himself beset, and given melancholy proof that the strength of his virtue lay iu its not being tried. And, at all events, there is good ground for reckoning it an er- roneous supposition, that piety must flourish best where least exposed to in- jury. The household of Ceesar may be a far better place for the growth of personal religion than the cell of a monk : in the one, the christian has his graces put continually to the proof, and this tends both to the discovering and the strengthening them; in the other, there is comparatively nothing to exercise virtue, and therefore may its very existence be only a delusion. Why then is the courtier to think, that, by making it his dutjr to remain in the dangerous atmosphere of a court, we require him to sacrifice him- self for the benefit of others ] or the servant, that, by bidding him stay in the irreligious family, we doom him to the being hindered in the spiritual race? Far enough from this. Let the remaining be matter of conscience, and the advantageousness shall be matter of experience. " The God of all grace," who has promised that his people shall not be tempted above that they are able, will bestow assistance propor- tioned to the wants. The constant exposure to danger will induce con- stant watchfulness : multiplied difficul- ties will teach the need of frequent prayer : the beheld wickedness of others will keep alive an earnest de- sire, that the earth may be *'full of the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea." And why, then, should not personal piety flourish % why should it be stunt- ed \ why, rather, should it not be more than commonly vigorous '? Oh, let no man think that he cannot be expected to make great progress in religion, be- cause he is obliged to be much in con- tact with wickedness, because his call- ing in life is one of great moral danger, keeping him associated wilh those who hate good, and employed on what tends to increase worldly-mindedness 1 It will probably be from situations such as this, that God shall gather into the kingdom of heaven the most eminent of his servants. It may not be from cloistered solitudes, where piety had but little to contend with, that the dis- tinguished ones shall advance when Christ distributes the prizes of eter- nity — it may rather be from the court, where worldliness reigned ; from the exchange, where gold was the idol ; and from the family, where godliness was held in derision. Not that there may not be exalted piety where there has not been extraordinary trial. But the extraordinary trial, met in God's" strength, which is always sufficient, will be almost sure to issue in such prayerfulness, such faith, such vigi- lance, such devotedness, as can hardly be looked for where there is but little to rouse, to alarm, and to harass. Therefore, let those be of good cheer, who, if pious at all, must be pious in. spite of a thousand hinderances and dis- advantages. Let these hinderances and disadvantages only make them earnest in prayer and diligent in labor, and they will prove their best helps in working out salvation. Witness the "chiefly" of our text. There were none in Rome, in whom the flame of christian love was so bright, as in those confined to the most polluted, of atmospheres. God appointed them their station: they submitted in obe-- dience to his will: and the result was, that the lamp, which you would have thought must have gone out in so pes- tilential an air, burnt stronger and clearer than in any other scene. Look, then, upon your enemies as your auxiliaries, upon your dangers as your guardians, upon your difficulties as your helps. Christian men, and christian women, ye of whom God asks most in asking you to be his ser- vants, for you he reserves most, if, indeed, ye be "faithful unto death." The "chiefly" of the text may be again heard ; they who have been first in godliness shall be first in glory: and when Christ is saying, " Come, ye blessed of my Father," it may be with this addition, " chiefly they that were of Ctesar's household." wall oft Upas 'm ' Wei; •peraii toccea THE SLEEPLESS NIGHT. 477 SERMON VI. THE SLEEPLESS NIGHT " On that niglit could not the king sleep ; and he commanded to bring the book of records of tho chronicles; and they were read before the king." — Esther, 6:1. It will be necessary for us to enter somewhat minutely into the circum- stances connected with what is here mentioned, that you may be prepared for the inferences which we design to draw from the passage. The Book of Esther is among the most interesting of the narratives contained in the Old Testament, furnishing proofs, as re- markable as numerous, of the ever- watchful Providence of God. The king of the vast Persian Empire, of which I Judea was at this time a province, had put from him his queen, in a moment jof caprice and indignation, and ad- Ivanced to her place a Jewess, named [Esther, remarkable for her beauty, and, las it afterwards appeared, for her pie- [ty and courage. This Esther, who had Ibeen left an orphan, had been brought lup as his daughter by her cousin Mor- Mecai, who, having been " carried away Ifrom Jerusalem with the captivity" Jander Nebuchadnezzar, had obtained some appointment in the royal house- hold it Shushan. The relationship, powever, between the two was not Generally known ; and Mordecai in- structed Esther not to avow herself a fewess, lest the circumstance might »perate to her disadvantage. This very concealment appears to have been or- lered of God, and had much to do with Subsequent events. The king had a favorite, named Ha- han the Agagite, a man of boundless Imbition and pride, who acquired com- plete ascendancy over the monarch. Honors and riches were heaped on this liinion ; it was even ordered, as it ould seem, that he should receive fie same reverential prostrations as icre rendered to the king, and which appear to have gone beyond mere to- kens of respect, and to have been ac- tually of an idolatrous character. Mor- decai, whose religion forbade his giv- ing, in any measure, to man what ap- pertained to God, refused to join the other servants of the king in thus hon- oring Haman, and drew remark upon himself by remaining standing whilst they fell to the ground. Mordecai had been unjustly treated : he had claim to some portion, at least, of the honors conferred upon Haman, though there is no reason to suppose that anger, or envy, had anything to do with his con- duct towards the favorite. He had been unjustly treated — for he had discover- ed a conspiracy, on the part of two of the royal chamberlains, to assassinate the king, and by apprising Esther of the bloody design, had prevented its execution. For this eminent service, however, he had obtained no reward ; his merit was overlooked, and he still sat in the gate of the king. But it sorely displeased Haman that Mordecai refused him the appointed tokens of reverence. It was nothing to this haughty man that he had reached the highest point to which a subject could aspire, so long as he had to en- counter a Jew who would not fall pros- trate before him. He must have his revenge — but it shall be a large re- venge : it were little to destroy Mor- decai alone ; the reasons which pro- duced the refusal from the individual might operate equally on the thousands of his countrymen; Mordecai then shall perish ; but with him shall fall also the whole nation of the Jews. It was a bold, as well as a bloody scheme, such as could not have been 478 [HE SLEEPLESS NIGHT. thought of except under an eastern despotism. Haman, however, knew that the lives of subjects were at the dis- posal of the king, so that if he could but possess himself of a royal edict against the Jews, he might compass his stern purpose, and exterminate the people. He sets, therefore, to v/ork : but he will be religious in his Avhole- sale massacre ; he betakes himself to the casting of lots, that he may ascer- tain the day of the year most favorable to his project ; and the lots — for " the whole disposing thereof is of the Lord " — fixed him to a day eleven months dis- tant, and, by thus delaying his atro- cious scheme, gave time for its defeat. He had no difficulty in obtaining the iniquitous decree from the luxurious and indolent monarch: he simply told him that there was a strange people scattered about his empire, whom it would be well to destroy, and oflered to pay a large sum into the royal trea- sury, to balance any loss which their destruction might occasion. The king, without making the least inquiry, gave Haman his ring, which would author- ize any measure which he might choose to adopt ; and Haman immediately cir- culated the sanguinary edict, to the great horror of the Jews, and the con- sternation of the whole empire. On this, Mordecai took measures for com- municating with Esther, apprised her of the ruin which hung over her na- tion, and urged her to attempt inter- cession with the king. And whilst Es- ther was doing all in her power to ar- range a favorable opportunity for plead- ing the cause of her people, there hap- pened the singular circumstance re- corded in the text: his sleep went from the king ; and in place of sending for music, or other blandishments, to soothe him to repose, he desired to hear portions of the chronicles of the empire. Amongst other things, the ac- count of the conspiracy which Morde- cai had discovered, was read to him; this suggested inquiry as to whether Mordecai had been recompensed ; this acain produced an order for his being instantly and signally honored — an or- der which, as intrusted to Haman, was but the too certain herald of that fa- vorite's downfall. Things now went on rapidly in favor of the Jews : the vil- lany of Haman was disclosed to the king: immediate vengeance followed; and very shortly the people, who had stood within an ace of destruction, had gladness and light in their dwellings, and were all the more prosperous through the defeated plot of their ene- mies. Now who can fail to perceive, who can hesitate to confess, the providence of God in the occurrences thus hastily reviewed"? From the first, from the advancement of Esther to the throne, a higher than human agency was ma- nifestly at work to counteract a scheme as distinctly foreknown as though God had appointed, in place of only permit- ting, the sin. The conspiracy of the two chamberlains; the subsequent ne- glect of Mordecai; the distant season determined by the lot — these were all either ordered, or overruled, by God ; and had a part, more or less direct, in frustrating a plot which aimed at no- thing less than the extinction of the Jews. But perhaps the most memora- ble of the evidences of God's special providence is that narrated in the text. There is nothing, indeed, surprising in the mere circumstance that the king passed a sleepless night ; it may have arisen from many natural causes; and we are not at all required to hold that there was any thing miraculous, any thing out of the ordinary course, in his finding himself unable to sleep. But if there were nothing expressly done to banish slumber from his eyes, we may safely say that advantage was taken of the sleeplessness of the king, and that it was suggested to him to do what he was little likely to have thought of. How improbable that, as he tossed from side to side, and could not find rest, he should have fancied the being read to out of the chronicles of the empire, a dry narrative it may be, of facts with which he was already well acquainted, and which had little to in- terest a voluptuary like himself. When Darius had allowed Daniel to be cast into the lions' den, and was " sore dis- pleased with himself" for Avhat he had done, we read that " instruments of music were not brought before him:" as if, under ordinary circumstances, some such means as the cadences of melody would have been used to cheat him into slumber. But Ahasuerus, though the whole history proves him THE SLKEPLESS NIGHT. 479 to have been a thorough sensualist, sent not for music, but for the chroni- cles of the kingdom; indeed, it was at the prompting of another spirit than his own, or, if it were but the whim of the moment, God made it instrumental to the most important of purposes. Then, when the chronicles were brought, it was not likely that the part relating to Mordecai would be read. It might have been expected that the reader would turn to portions of the records which were not so well known, as better fitted to divert and interest the king. Besides, it is evi- dent enough that Mordecai was no fa- vorite with the other royal servants ; they were disposed to pay court to Haman, and therefore to side with him in his quarrel with this refractory Jew. It was probable, then, that the reader would avoid the account of what jMor- decai had done, not wishing that the king should be reminded of his signal, but unrequited, services. Yet, not- withstanding all the chances — to use common language — against the recital of Mordecai's deed, the narrative of this deed was brought before the king, and its cfTect was an inquiry as to the reward of the man who had been so eminently useful. And thus, by a suc- cession of improbabilities, but not one of those improbabilities so great as to seem to require any supernatural interference, was a result brought round, or at least advanced, which mightily concerned, not only the Jew- ish nation, but the whole human race ; for had the plan of Haman succeeded,- and that people been exterminated whence Messiah was to spring, where would have been the promised redemp- tion of this earth and its guilty inha- bitants 1 It is hardly affirming too much, to affirm that on the sleepless night of the Persian king was made to depend our rescue from everlasting death ; at least, and undeniably, the restlessness of the king was one of those instruments through which God wrought in carry- ing on his purpose of redeemino- our race through a descendant from David "according to the flesh." Wonderful, that so simple, so casual a circumstance should have had a direct bearing on the destinies of men from Adam to the very latest posterity ! wonderful, that the disturbed and broken rest of a sin- gle individual should have aided the reconciliation of the whole world to God! Let us contemplate the fact with yet closer attention. We wish to impress on you a strong sense of the ever-watchful providence of God, of his power in overruling all things, so that they subserve his fixed purpo- ses, and of the facility wherewith he can producp amazing results, throurrh simple instrumentality. Whither then shall we lead you 1 Not to any strange or startling scene, where there are clear tokens of Divine interference and supremacy. Come with us merely to the couch of the Persian kinar, on that night when sleep went from his eyes ; and remembering that his sleep- lessness was directly instrumental to the defeating the foul plot of Haman, let us consider what facts are establish- ed by the exhibition, and what practi- cal lessons it furnishes to ourselves. My brethren, examine your notions of God, and tell me whether you are not apt to measure the Supreme Being by standards established between man and man. The Divine greatness is re- garded as that of some very eminent king : what would be inconsistent Avith the dignity of the potentate is regard- ed as inconsistent with the dignity of God ; and what seems to us to contri- bute to that dignity is carried up to the heavenly courts, or supposed to exist there in the highest perfection. We do not say that men are to be blamed for thus aiding their concep- tions of Deity by the facts and figures of an earthly estate. Limited as our faculties are, and unsuited to compre- hend what is spiritual — confined, more- over, as we are to a material Avorld — it is, in a measure, unavoidable that we should picture God in human shape, or rather, that we should take the stand- ards which subsist among ourselves and use them in representing, or set- ting forth, our Maker. But we should often gain a grander and a juster idea of God, by considering in what he dif- fers from men, than "by ascribing to him, only in an infinite degree, what is found amongst ourselves. You may picture God as a potentate with bound- less resources at his disposal, possess- ed of universal dominion, and surround- ed by ten thousand times ten thousand 4S0 THE SLEEPLESS NIGHT. ministering spirits, each waiting to do his pleasure, and each mighty as that angel of death which prostrated, in a single night, the vast hosts of the As- syrian. There is nothing wrong in this representation of Deity, except that it must come immeasurably short of the reality : it is correct as far as it goes ; but when we have heaped figure upon figure, attributing to God every conceivable instrument of power, we have, indeed, depicted him as mighty, in the sense in which an earthly mon- arch may be mighty ; but, virtually, we can have made no approach towards the actual state of that omnipotent Being, who " sitteth on the circle of the earth, and the inhabitants thereof are as grasshoppers." And, after all, it is not by putting unbounded resources at the disposal of God, and representing him as working through stupendous instrumentality, that we frame the highest notions of him as a sovereign or ruler. Keep out of sight the unbounded resources, the stupendous instrumentality ; survey him as effecting what he wills through a mean and insignificant agency; and you more separate between the Crea- tor and the creature, and therefore go nearer, it may be, to the true idea of God. There is something sublimer and more overwhelming in those say- ings of Scripture, " Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou or- dained strength ;" " God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to con- found the wise, the weak things of the world to cojnfound the things which are mighty ;" than in the most mag- nificent and gorgeous description of dominion and strength. This is just what the earthly potentate cannot do : he must have causes proportionate to effects, agencies commensurate with results ; and it were utterly vain for him to think of ordaining strength from babes and sucklings, of confound- ing wise things with foolish, or migh- ty with weak. This is the preroga- tive of Deity alone ; and because in this he is altogether separated from his creatures, therefore is this more a sign or attribute of Deity, than any assemblage of forces which Scripture may mention, or any celestial army which imagination can array. Observe, then, how wonderful is God, in that he can accomplish great ends by insignificant means. Christi- anity, for example, diff'used through the instrumentality of twelve legions of angels, would have been immeasu- rably inferior, as a trophy of Omnipo- tence, to Christianity diffused through the instrumentality of twelve fisher- men. When I survey the heavens, with their glorious troop of stars, and am told that the Almighty employs to his own majestic ends the glittering hosts, as they pursue their everlasting march, I experience no surprise : I seem to feel as though the spangled firmament were worthy of being em- ployed by the Creator; and I expect a magnificent consummation from so magnificent an instrumentality. But show me a tiny insect, just floating in the breeze, and tell me, that, by and through that insect, will God carry for- ward the largest and most stupendous of his purposes, and I am indeed filled with amazement ; I cannot sufficiently admire a Being, who, through that which I could crush with a breath, ad- vances what I cannot measure with thought. And is there any thing strain- ed or incorrect in associating with an insect the redemption of the world] Nay, not so. In saving the race whence Messiah was to spring, God worked through the disturbed sleep of the Per- sian monarch, and the buzz of an in- considerable insect might have sufficed to break that monarch's repose. You have another instance in Scrip- ture of an attempt to destroy the cho- sen seed, and thus to frustrate the promises in which the whole world had interest. It was made by Pharaoh, king of Egypt, who, not content with enslaving and oppressing the Israel- ites, sought to effect their extinction through destroying all their male chil- dren. And when God interfered on be- half of his people, it was with miracle and prodigy, with a mighty hand and a stretched-out arm. Every one seems to feel that the agency was here ade- quate to the exigence : when the very scheme of redemption may be said to have been in jeopardy, no one is sur- prised, either that God came forth from his solitude clad in his might, or that, interposing in so awful a manner, he should have confounded and scat- tered his enemies. The interposition THE SLEEPLESS NIGHT. 4S1 resembled what might have been look- ed for from an earthly king, who, find- ing his will obstructed in some pro- vince of his empire, should hasten thi- ther with his armies, and subdue by superior might the rebels and antago- nists. But when the peril was greater and more immediate, for certainly the project of Haman threatened Avorse than that of Pharaoh, there was no miracle — no prodigy : swarms of flies did not darken the land, though per- haps a single fly was made use of by God. Yet who does not perceive that herein was the wonderfulness of God more displayed, than in all the superna- tural terrors which devastated Egypt? Let it be, that God caused Ahasuerus to be sleepless, or only knew that he would be; that he prompted him to send for the chronicles, or only knew that he would send ; that he secretly suggested to the reader what parts to take, or simply foresaw his selection — in either case, what a tissue of insig- ! nificant causes is here ! but, at the | same time, what a Being must that be, ' who could hang a world on such a web, | any thread of which might have been broken by a thought, but not without deranging and dislocating the whole ! To have interfered with visible mira- cle, would have been nothing compared to the thus secretly and silently ope- rating through natural and inconsider- able things. Indeed, it was a display of Deity, when the oppressors of Isra- el quailed before a power which strew- ed the earth with ruin, and shrouded the heavens in darkness. But it ac- cords with our notions of greatness, that mighty means should be employ- ed to mighty ends: if God have at his disposal the thunder, the storm, and the pestilence, Ave marvel not, that, by employing such artillery, he should frustrate the plots of the enemies of liis church. Can he dispense with this irtillery 1 can he work without mira- cles, when some great crisis arrives, md the counsels of Eternity seem on he eve of defeat ? Indeed he can. He s too great to find any instrument lit- is. He can work with the insect's ving just as well as with the Archan- el's. And, after adoring him, as he lasses through Egypt in the chariot of lis strength, working out the emanci- lation of his people by portents and plagues, I fall before him as yet more amazing in wisdom and power, when I find the bloody purpose of Haman de- feated through such instrumentality as this; "The king could not sleep, and he commanded to bring the book of the records of the chronicles, and they were read before the king." Now we omitted a circumstance, in our hasty summary of the facts of the history, which ought to be pointed out, that you may thoroughly perceive the workings of divine Providence. At the very moment that the king was listen- ing to the chronicles of the empire, the wicked Haman was standing in the court, waiting for an audience. He had risen early that he might prefer a re- quest to the king, a request for the im- mediate execution of Mordecai. At the suggestion of his wife, he had caused a gallows to be erected, and now sought the royal permission for hanging the object of his inveterate hatred. Only remember with what facility the king had granted Haman's request, when it asked the destruction of thousands, and you will hardly think it likely that he would have shown any hesitation in consenting to the death of a solitary individual, and that, too, an individual already doomed by the issued decree. And if Mordecai had fallen, it does not indeed necessarily follow that Esther would have failed in her intercession with the king: but it is not too much to suppose that she would have been staggered and paralyzed through the loss of her kinsman and adviser, and perhaps have taken his death as an evi- dence of the uselessness of resisting the insolent Haman. Mordecai was, humanly speaking, the great obstruc- tion to the execution of Haman's plot ; and, this having been removed, unless some new counteracting engines had been set at work by God, the whole nation of the Jews must have simulta- neously perished. Thus it was, you perceive, precisely at the critical mo- ment that his sleep went from the king ; the sleepless night saved Mordecai, and Mordecai saved the nation. We have not, then, put the case too strong- ly, in representing the scheme of the redemption of the world as having de- pended on the restlessness of the mon- arch of Persia. We do not, of course, mean to say, that, had the king slept 61 4S2 THE SLEEPLESS NIGHT. throufifh the iiisrhi, God would not have employed some other instrumentality in furthering his purpose of mercy to- wards men. But we have only to do Avith instrumentality actually employ- ed : and, indeed, it is unbecoming in us even to suppose the case that the king might have slept ; for this is to suppose that God's foreknowledge might have been at fault, a contingen- cy having been reckoned upon v/hich had never arisen. It was clearly, there- fore, so ordered by Providence, that the deliverance of the Jews, and, with it, the redemption of the world, should hinge on the fact of his sleep going on one particular night from Ahasuerus, the monarch of Persia. And having already called on you to admire the wonderfulness of God, in that he could operate to so mighty an end through so inconsiderable an agen- cy, we would have you carefully ob- serve how little there was which could be called supernatural interference ; how simply, without any violence, the divine Providence eflected its purpose. Now that the whole is over, we can clearly trace the hand of God ; but, whilst the matter was in progress, we might have discerned nothing but or- dinary and every-day events, such as afforded no sign of the interference of Deity. We have not taken on our- selves to decide whether God actually caused, or only foreknew, the king's .sleepless night ; Avhether he turned the king's mind towards the chronicles of the empire, or merely foresaw its di- iection. But let it be supposed, as is sufficiently probable, that there was more than foreknowledge, that God hanished sleep from the king's eyes and directed his thoughts to the chro- nicles, how natural was the whole thing I how little interference was there with the usual course of events ! No one could have suspected that a divine agency was at work : it was no ways singular that the king should be rest- less : no miracle was required to ex- plain his choosing to hear the records of his empire: every thing was just what might have equally happened, had matters been left to themselves, in place of having been disposed and directed by God. We wish you to observe this very carefully, because it goes to the set- ting under a right point of view the utility of prayer, which is often object- ed against as though it sought mira- cles, or expected God to interrupt, at our call, the established course and or- der of things. The Jews, at the bid- ding of Esther, had given themselves to fasting and prayer, supplicating of the Almighty that she might be favor- ably received of the king, and thus en- abled to adopt measures for discomfit- ing Haman. And independently on this set supplication on behalf of the queen, we may be sure, that, no sooner had the edict gone forth which doomed them to death, than the Jews betook themselves to prayer to the God of their fathers, imploring of him that he would vanquish their foes, and not suf- fer the promises to fail, of which, for centuries, they had been the deposito- ry. And perhaps they looked for visi- ble and miraculous interference in an- swer to their prayers : it had been God's course, in other emergencies, to make bare his arm in defence of his people: might he not now be expected to ap- pear in his terrors, and scatter, by the brightness of his presence, whatsoever had leagued against his church and himself] But they looked in vain, if they looked for sensible evidence that God had not forgotten his covenant: there came no prodigy to sustain their sinking spirits : if Mordecai appeared raised up, as Moses had been, to coun- sel and lead them in their difficulties; alas ! he had not the rod of the law- giver to wave over the land, and make oppressors tremble. Was God, then, not hearkening to prayer 1 was he not intending, or pre- paring, to answer it 1 Indeed, his ear was open to the cry of his people, and the event sufficiently showed that he had, all along, been working for their safety. But, as though to prove to us that, even in the worst extremity, he may interpose on our behalf, and ne- vertheless not derange the common order of things ; he frustrated the ap- parently secure plot of Haman without the least approach to a miracle. And do you not perceive what encourage- ment this affords in the matter of prayer, and how it scatters the ob- jections which numbers would urge 1 The scorner would tell me of fixed and immutable laws, according to which TH£ SLEEPLESS NIGHT. 483 things must proceed in regular succes- sion and train : he would persuade me of the utter absurdity of addressing petitions to God, seeing that, if he an- swer them, it must be by interfering with what is settled and constant, by the working of miracles, which, from their very nature, he cannot often work. But it is a false statement. I do not look for miracle to be Avrought in answer to prayer — though, all the while, I thoroughly believe that, were a case to arise in which nothing short of miracle would meet the circum- stances of a servant of God, the mira- cle would not be withheld : stars shall forsake their courses, the sun and the moon shall put on sackcloth, ere any 'thing shall fail which God has promised to the righteous, and which is needful to their steadfastness or progress. But it is not required that there should be miracle in order to our prayers being granted ; neither does the granting them suppose that God is variable, or changes in his purposes. There was no miracle in his causing Ahasuerus to pass a sleepless night: a little heat in the atmosphere, or the buzzing of an insect, might have produced the result ; and philosophy, with all its sagacity, ruption of the known laws of nature, could not have detected any inter- Neither were God's purposes variable, though it may have actually depended on the importunity of prayer, whether or not the people should be delivered. God's appointment may have been, that he would break the king's sleep if prayer reached a certain intenseness 5 that he would not break it if it came below that intenseness: and surely, this would accord equally with two propositions — the first, that the divine purposes are fixed and immutable ; the second, that, notwithstanding this fix- edness and immutability, they may be affected by human petitions, and there- fore leave room for importunate prayer. And thus I am mightily encouraged in all the business of prayer by the broken rest of the Persian king. Com- paratively, I should not be encouraged, were I told that what disquieted the monarch had been the standing of a spectre by his bedside, an unearthly form, which, in unearthly accents, had upbraided him with leaving Mordecai unrequited. Here would have been miracle, a departure from ordinary laws ; and I know that such departure must be necessarily rare, and could hardly be looked for in any exigence of mine own. But when I observe that the king's rest was disturbed without any thing supernatural ; that all whicli God had to do in order to arrange a great deliverance for his people, wa;j to cause a sleepless night, but so to cause it that no one could discern his interference ; then, indeed, I learn that I may not be asking what the world counts miracle, though I ask what transcends all power but divine. It may be bj'^ natural processes that God effects what might pass for supernatu- ral results. Shall I not cry for deli- verance from the dungeon into which a tyrant has cast me, or from the tem- pest which has overtaken me '? Shall I be silent, because it were like asking for miracle, to ask that the prison doors might be loosened, or for interruption of the known laws of nature, to entreat that the agitated elements might be hushed 1 Nay, not so. God, who suc- cored the Jews through giving one man a sleepless night, may, by the dropping of a pin, incline the tyrant to release me, or, by a feather's weight in those laboratories v.hich science never penetrated, repress the rushings of the storm. I am delivered from the dungeon, I am saved from the tempest, without exciting the surprise of the v/orld, because without any palpable derangement of the common order of things; but nevertheless through an express answer to prayer, or a direct interference on the part of the Al- mighty. Oh, there is something in this which should be wondrously encouraging to all who feel their insignificance, and can scarce venture to think that the high and glorious God Avill exert his omnipotence on their behalf. If the registered deliverances, vouchsafed to the church, were all deliverances which had been effected through miracles, we might question whether they afforded any precedent, on which creatures like ourselves could justly rest hope. We dare not think that for us, for our safe- ty or advancement, armed squadrons will be seen on the heavens, or the earth be convulsed, or the waters turn- ed into blood. But look from Israel 84 THE SLEEPLESS NIGHT. delivered from Pharaoh to Israel de- livered from Haman, and we are en- couraged to believe that God will not fail even us in our extremity, seeing that he could save the people through such a simple and unsuspected pro- cess as this : '^ On that night could not jhe king sleep, and he commanded to bring the book of the records of the chronicles." But we would now lead you along a train of thought quite different from the preceding, but naturally flowing from the circumstances under review. We wish you again, and more dis- tinctly, to observe, that, even on the supposition that God produced, and did not merely overrule what took place, there was nothing to excite a consciousness of Divine interference : the whole process was so natural that its subject might never have suspect- ed the special workings of God. It cannot for a moment be alleged, that any thing like compulsion was laid upon the king, that his free agency was destroyed, so that he was neces- sitated, against his will, to adopt a particular course. It was not indeed optional with Ahasuerus whether or 3iot he would be wakeful ; neither was it at his own choice, whether or not the thought should cross his mind of pending for the chronicles of the em- pire ; but we may fairly suppose that he could have resisted this thought had he pleased. He might have said to himself, " These chronicles will never soothe me to sleep : I will try some- thing better suited to my purpose" — and thus might he have withstood the impulse, and lost the opportunity of discovering and correcting his faults. We do not of course mean, as we have hinted before, that Haman's plot would not have been defeated, had the king not done according to the suggestion of God. God designed that the plot should be defeated ; and he would, therefore, have been sure to bring to bear an adequate instrumentality. But the point under consideration is, that the agency employed on the king was so natural,' so undistinguishable from the workings of his own mind, that he could never have suspected a Divine interference, and must have been per- fectly at liberty either to do, or not to do, as the secret impulse prescribed. And in this, my brethren, we have a striking illustration of God's ordinary course in his dealings with men — those dealings, we specially mean, through which he would effect their conver- sion or renewal. If you examine theo- retically into the consistence of human liberty with the operations of Divine grace — if, that is, you seek to show, with thorough precision, that the in- fluences of God's Spirit on our minds in no degree interfere with free agen- cy — it is possible that you will in- volve yourselves in a labyrinth, and seek vainly for the clue by which you might be extricated. But, practically, there is no difficulty whatsoever in the matter: we may fairly say, that, whilst suggestions are secretly generated, and impulses applied to our minds, we are thoroughly at liberty to act as we choose : it depends on ourselves, on the exercise of our own Vv'ill, whether the suggestions be cherished or crush- ed, whether the impulses be withstood or obeyed. And we know nothing of which it is more important that men be aware, than of the naturalness, so to speak, of the Spirit's operations; for many are disposed to wait for what they count supernatural influence — in- fluence which shall palpably not be of this earth, and which shall virtually leave them no freedom of choice. But without denying that cases sometimes occur, in which the operations of the Spirit thus force attention to their origin, it is unquestionable that his ordinary operations are just such as may pass for the workings of our own minds : there is nothing in them to tell us, that we are, at that moment, being subjected to the agency of Om- nipotence ; nothing to excite the start- ling conviction, that we are verily wrought upon by that renovating power, which is to mould out of fall- en humanity a habitation for Deity himself. And because the operations of the Spirit are commonly not dis- tinguishable from those of our own minds, the danger is very great of their being overlooked or despised; and the duty is, therefore, most press- ing, of our being ever on the watch for his suggestions and impulses. The position of the unconverted man is often precisely that of the king Ahas- uerus. There is a. restlessness, an un- THE SLEEPLESS NIGHT. 485 easiness, for wliich he cannot give any definite reason; it has come upon him, he hardly knows whence ; and he turos from side to side, expecting to recover his moral indifference or com- posure. But still his sleep goes from him, and he bethinks him of measures for wooing it back. When he has been similarly situated before, he has per- haps had recourse to the fascinations of the world ; he has summoned plea- sure with her lyre, and her syren strains have soothed him into quiet. Shall he take the same course nowl It would be natural that he should; but he feels a sort of disposition to try another mode ; it is secretly sug- gested to him that the book of the re- cord of the chronicles might give him some repose, that the Bible might hush his agitation, were it read to him by those whose office it is to press home its truths. And thus is he lite- rally situated as was the Persian king on that eventful night, when the fate of the Jews, and of the world, seemed to hang upon a thread. He is acted on as was the king; and there is nothing to prevent his resisting as the king might have resisted. He may say to himself, "The Bible is a dull book, preachers are melancholy persons ; I will try something more likely to dis- sipate my fears, and restore my com- posure : give me the romance, or the co- medy, rather that the book of the chro- »i nicies ; give me my jovial companions, '■■i rather than the ministers of religion." ij Ahasuerus might have done this, and |i thereby would he have resisted prompt- 1 ings which were not of his own mind, ;| though they gave no note of superna- ';•■; tural origin, and have lost the oppor- ("j tunity of freeing his kingdom from a • >i!» great impending calamity. And the "\|1 sinner may do this : he may withstand !: a suggestion, which seems only to i<^f spring from a disturbed mind, though i in truth to be traced to the Spirit of jji God ; and thus maybe throw away a 'golden opportunity of learning how to flee from everlasting wrath. The special thing forced on the con- science of Ahasuerus through the book ijof the chronicles, was, that there was one who had done him great service in saving him from death, and whom he had hitherto requited with neglect. And it is the very sanfie thing which might be forced on the conscience of the sinner through the reading or hear- ing of the Bible. There is one who has done for him what thought cannot measure, ransoming him, by "the death of the cross," from everlasting pains ; but he has hitherto refused to acknow- ledge this Savior, and has given him, in return, only hatred or contempt. So accurately is a case of most common occurrence, that of the unconverted man moved by God's Spirit to give heed to the Gospel of Christ, portray- ed in that of the Persian king, prompt- ed, in his restlessness, to hear the chronicles of the empire. And what we would again and again impress up- on you is, that you are not to think of recognizing the operations of the Spi- rit of God by any supernatural tokens, as though, whensoever that agent is at work in your breasts, you must be aware of his presence, and able to dis- tinguish his movements from those of ihe conscience and the will. The se- cret uneasiness, the impulse to prayer, the sense of something wrong, the dis- position to hear the word of God — these may not startle you by their strangeness ; these may seem to you quite natural, as naturally produced as suggestions of an opposite character — but know ye of a truth, that these are what the Holy Ghost causes; that these may perhaps be all which the Holy Ghost will cause ; and, therefore, that if ye will not yield to these, and will not act on these, there is a fearful probability of your being forsaken of God, and left to your own devices. Wait not for miracles — God's ordina- ry workings are through very simple means. We do not read of any thun- derclap which awakened Ahasuerus ; he was restless, but perhaps could give no account of his restlessness. If he had been asked, he would probably have mentioned the heat of the wea- ther, or over-excitement, or something of which he had eaten. But, all the while, God was in that sleeplessness, for which so many common causes might have been assigned. And there must be those of you who already know, or who will know, something of a moral uneasiness which might admit of various explanations. There has been no thunderclap — yet the man can- not sleep J and he will perhaps account 486 THE WELL OF BETHLEHEM. for it from some loss in his family, or some disappointment in trade, or some deficiency in health. But God is in that uneasiness, that disquietude, which shows an inability to settle down in present things, and a secret craving for higher and better. Well then — whensoever such a season shall visit any amongst you, let them be special- ly heedful of what may be suggested to their minds : they are not disturbed for nothing, but that they may be prompted and urged towards religion — no music, no revelry, no blandish- ments: let the records of the chroni- cles of the kingdom of heaven be searched, and they shall learn how the snare may be broken, and beautiful peace be permanently secured. SERMON VII. THE WELL OF BETHLEHEM, '* And David longed, and said, Oh, that one would give me drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem , which is by the gate ! And the three mighty men brake through the host of the Thilislines, and drew water out of the well of Bethlehem, that was by the gate, and took it, and brought it to David : nevertheless he would not drink thereof, but poured it out unto the Lord. And he said, Be it far from me, O Lord, that I should do this : is not this the blood of the men that went in jeopardy of their lives? therefore he would not drink it." — 2 Samuel, 23 : 15, 16, 17. We are not to regard the Scriptural histories as mere registers of facts, such as are commonly the histories of eminent men: they are rather selec- tions of facts, suitableness for pur- poses of instruction having regulated the choice. In human biography, you may say of much that is recorded, that it is inserted only because it happened, and because, therefore, its omission would have destroyed the integrity of the narrative. But we do not suppose that the same may be said of Scriptu- ral biography ; a fact is not recorded merely because it occurred, as though the object were to give the full life of some distinguished individual ; a fact is rather chosen for relation, out of many which are omitted, because ex- hibiting some point, whether in human conduct or the divine dealings, on which it is important that attention be turned. Occasionally, indeed, and perhaps more frequently than is commonly thought, it is because the fact has a typical character that it is selected for' insertion : it prefigures, or symboli- cally represents, something connected with the scheme of redemption, and on this account has found place in the sa- cred volume. Neither is it unusual for the recorded fact to answer to both these descriptions: being instructive in itself, and serving also as an emblem of truths that were then taught only by shadows and types. And whether, in any given instance, it be that the thing narrated is instructive in itself, or significative of what God had yet but partially disclosed ; or whether it may lay claim to both characters ; we ought, at least, to be careful that we content not ourselves with apprehend- ing the facts, but study diligently what lessons they may convey, and what types they may contain. We make these general remarks THE WELL OF BETHLEHEM. 487 from a fear that, in regard especially of the Old Testament narratives, there is a habit with many christians of read- ing Scriptural histories as registers of facts, rather than as collections of les- sons. The interesting character of the narratives themselves is often likely to induce or strengthen this habit; the mind becomes so engaged with the story, that the instruction is disregard- ed, or the figure overlooked. There are others besides children who can be pleased with the fable, and never think of the moral. And if we fail to search the Scriptural narratives for lessons and types, it is evident that we shall practically take away from great part of the Bible its distinctive charac- ter as a record of spiritual truth ; whilst, on the other hand, by always looking for what always exists — mate- rial of instruction — we may give histo- ries the nature of homilies, and find the events in an individual's life prophetic of things in which the whole world has interest. We hope to show you, as we pro- > eed with our discourse, that the nar- rative which we have now selected irom the Old Testament, forms no ex- ception to the rule, but rather signally illustrates its truth. It is exactly one of those narratives which are likely to be read and admired for the beauty of the facts, rather than studied for the v.'orth of the lessons. It lays immedi- ate and strong hold on the imagination, having about it that air of chivalry, we might almost say romance, which ordinarily so captivates and dazzles ; the fancy. You can hardly read it and , not have before you all the scenery of (the tented field, with the mailed cham- ipions and the floating banners. The i royal warrior, David, is exhausted with the fight ; he has been in the thick of he struggle with the Philistines, and is now faint with thirst. In this his weariness and languor, he is heard to breathe a passionate wish for water from the well of Bethlehem, between which and himself lay the Philistines, so that the well could be reached only by breaking through their line. But amongst his followers were men as I tttached as intrepid ; with hearts de- | looted to their chieftain, and hands i prepared to attempt even impossi- I K'iilities at his bidding. Three of the i I most distinguished of these followers heard the wish which David expressed. There was no command given : but with them a wish had the force of a command ; and pausing not to count the peril, they rushed against the foe, resolved to carve themselves a pas- sage. It was like rushing on destruc- tion—what will their courage and strength avail against a muttitude ! they wjll be borne down in the une- qual struggle ; and even if they reach the well their retreat will be cut off, and they must perish in the effort to return. And yet— so did the Almighty favor the bold enterprise— they "suc- ceeded in breaking through the host : you may trace their course by the stir, the tumult, and the crash; the enemy falls in heaps before them ; now they are by the side of the cold flowing fountain: they stay not to quench their own thirst : they dip, it may be, a helmet in the waters, and hasten,' with that warrior's cup, to attempt a second time the passage. Perhaps the Phihstmes scarcely offered fresh re- sistance ; these three men may have seemed to them more than mortal ; they may have divided at their ap- proach, and allowed them to return unopposed to the army of Israel. And David must have been aware of this desperate sally; he must have knovv'n that the choicest of his war- riors had thrown themselves, to all ap- pearance, on certain death, in hopes of gratifying his wish; and deep must have been his anxieties, and fervent his prayers, for those whom his incon- siderateness had placed in such peril. But the shout of his troops tells him that his brave captains are safe; they approach, stained with the blood of the Philistines, and perhaps v.'ith their own : they bow before their king, pre- sent the sparkling draught, and ask no reward but the pleasure of seeino- him refreshed. And David holds the hel- met in his hands, but raises it not to his hps: the thirst consumes him, for It has been aggravated through the feverish dread that the bold men would perish ; but the water, fresh and pure though it was, looked to him like the blood of those who had jeopardied their lives; be felt compunction a^ having rashly given utterance to a wish which had produced so daring a deed ; 488 THE AVELL OF BETHLEHEM. and he will punish himself for the fault ; he refuses to drink, and pours the wa- ter on the ground as a libation to the Lord. What a picture ! Every one is fami- liar with the story of our own warrior, who, mortally wounded, and parched with the death-thirst, received a cup of water, but observing, as he raised it to his lips, the eye of a dying soldier rest wistfully upon it, handed it to him and bade him drink it, as needing it yet more than himself. But we know not whether the history before us do not present a still finer subject for the painter. It does not seem as though David had to choose between quench- ing his own thirst and that of another. There may have been no gasping war- rior at his feet to move sympathy by the glassy eye and the clotted lip. It was simply at the suggestion of con- science that he put from him the longed-for draught ; and there was all the more of greatness, because there was apparently so little to prompt the self-denial. But we need not take pains to give interest and coloring to the narrative. The risk, as we have hinted, is all the other way — that you may be so attract- ed by the chivalrous circumstances, by the displayed bravery and magnanimity as to think nothing of homely and per- sonal lessons with which the registered incidents are assuredly fraught. We have, therefore, now to engage you exclusively with these lessons. We wish you to observe what there may have been to blame, and what to ap- prove, in the conduct of David ; and to note, with like attention, the con- duct of his servants. This sufticient- ]y defines what we have to attempt through the remainder of' our dis- course ; we will take, first, the con- duct of the three warriors, and, se- condly, that of David, and examine what, in each case, there may be whe- ther to condemn or to copy. Now the three warriors must be sur- veyed as servants of David, men en- gaged to obey his commands, and ex- ecute his will to the utmost of their power. And their conduct then appears very admirable, as far removed as can well be imagined from that calculating and niggardly obedience, which betrays a disposition to do the least possible, to render as little to a master as that master can be prevailed on to accept. We need not touch the question as to whether these warriors were justified in running such a risk, whether it were unlawful, or not, to make the attempt to which they were prompted by the expressed wish of David. It may have been unlawful ; there must have been a point at which obedience to God would have forbidden obedience to their king; but we have no means for accurately judging whether this point had been reached in the case now be- fore us. We may, therefore, waive all reference to the right or the wrong, of the resolve to cut a path to the waters of Bethlehem; we have simply to do with the power which a mere wish of David had over his servants, for we may hence derive a lesson for all ser- vants, whether of God or of man. You are to observe that David issued no command. He might have summon- ed the bravest of his battalions, and bidden them attempt the forcing a pas- sage to the well ; but nothing of the kind was done : he simply uttered a wish, without, perhaps, thinking that he should be overheard, and certainly without designing that it should be in- terpreted as a command. But the wish was sufficient for bold and true-hearted men, and they instantly faced death to attempt its gratification. And we say of these servants, thus yielding as rea- dy an obedience to an overheard wish as] could have been rendered to the most positive order, that they rebuke many of ourselves, who, whether it be their Creator, or their fellow-creatures, by whom they are employed, seem on- ly anxious to reduce their service to the smallest possible amount. There is an example set by these warriors to every man who is called on for obedi- ence, which fits the history before us to be inscribed on our kitchens, our shops, and our churches. The exam- ple lies in their not having waited for a command, but acted on a wish; and there is no man to whom the term ser- vant applies — and it applies to every man, at least with reference to God — who would not do well to ponder the example, and consider whether he be not yet far below such a model. If you take the case of servants, as the term is commonly applied, is not THE WELL OF BETnLEIIEM. 4S9 their bervice, for the most part, a sort of labor to do no more than they can help, an endeavor to earn their wages with as little outlay of toil as their em- ployers will consent to remunerate 1 Servants, even servants '' professing godliness," seem to have practically but little remembrance of the precept of St. Paul, '' not with eye-service as men- pleasers." It is almost all " eye-ser- vice," and flags in proportion as in- spection is withdrawn. It is a rare thing to find a servant who will dili- gently obey your commands ; but where shall we look for one \vho will carefully consult your wishes 1 And we do not know that a more annoying argument is to be found against the advantageousness of a difTused chris- tian education, than is apparently fur- nished by a fact which it is not easy to gainsay, that, in place of an improved race of servants having resulted from an improved system of general instruc- tion, w^e have less diligent, less oblig- ing, and less trustworthy domestics. We are sure as to the unsoundness of the argument, because we are sure, on unassailable principles, that the know- ledge of God in Christ will make men, from the prince to the peasant, fitter for whatsoever duties appertain to their station. But, nevertheless, when the appeal is to results, to the testimo- ny of experience, not of theory, it does involve the advocate of national educa- tion in no ordinary difficulty, that the opponent can enter our households and ask, with much semblance of truth, what, comparatively, has become of those attached, steadfast, and consci- entious servants, who had no interest separate from their master's, and no wish but that of executing hisi And servants, who have enjoyed all the su- perior advantages of modern days, and yet are palpably inferior to the servants of former — restless, rude, dishonest — little know how much they may con- tribute towards such disgust amongst the rich at the instruction of the poor, as will prompt an endeavor to re-es- tablish the ignorance which consisted with something praiseworthy, as pre- ferable to the knowledge which threat- ens to issue in confusion. Neither is it only to servants, in the common sense of the word, that the example before us applies. The same holds good generally of the employed, whatever the nature of the emploj^- ment. It ought to be the ruling princi- ple with him who serves another in any capacity, to serve him upon principle, to identify himself with his employer, and to have the same eye to his inter- ests as though they were his own. If a man buy my time, and I do not devote to him that time, there is robbery as actual as though he had bought my merchandize and I then sold it to ano- ther. If he pay me for my labor, and I in any measure withhold it, then, up to that measure, there is as palpable fraud as if he bargained .for my goods and I used a false balance. The indolent clerk, the idle shopman, the careless agent — I see no moral difTerence be- tween these and the grossly dishonest who tamper w^ith the property of their employers. And if a general rule be required for the guidance of those who are in any kind of service, we fetch it from the example of David's three cap- tains, with whom a wish had all the force of a command. It is not that this rule willfurnish specific direction in each specific case ; but that he, who acts up to it, will be keeping in ex- ercise the motives and dispositions which will ensure the right course un- der all possible circumstances. He who consults wishes as well as commands, or with whom a known wish is as bind- ing as an express command, will neces- sarily feel at all times under the eye of his employer ; or, rather, will know no difference when that eye is upon him and when turned away. His whole aim will be to act for the employer as the employer would act for himself 5 and it is evident that nothing can be added to such a description, if you wish to include singleness of purpose, sinceri- ty, diligence, and faithfulness. And you have only to contrast, in your own minds, the servant who will do nothing but what is positively, and, in so many words, commanded, and another who watches the very looks of his master, that he may read his wishes and take them for laws, to as- sure yourselves that the feature of good service which we derive from the conduct of the captains of David rather gives the whole character than a solitary mark. Yea, consider men in general as the servants of God — of God 62 490 THE WELL OF BETHLEHEM. who expressly says, " I will guide thee with mine eye," as though a look were to suffice ; and this feature will distin- guish the true and the earnest from the hypocritical and the lukewarm. Let us ask ourselves whether, unhappily, it be not the too common disposition of those Avho make profession of godliness, to pare down as much as possible the ser- vice required at their hands, to calcu- late how small a sacrifice, and how slight an endurance, will consist with their being reckoned amongst the mem- bers of Christ 1 In place of a generous zeal to give up every thing for God, and such a fear of offending him as would make them avoid what is indif- ferent lest they indulge in what is wrong, men are apt to compute how far they may venture in compliance with the world, how near they may go to the forbidden thing, and yet not lose the distinctive character of the people of Christ. It should not content the Christian that such or such an indul- gence is not prohibited by the letter of the law; he should search whether it be not prohibited by the spirit. In cases where there really may be a doubt as to the lawfulness, he should determine for the course which is the most likely to be right ; and, if the scales hang even, for that to which he has the less inclination. This would be true Chris- tian obedience, an obedience of which love is the law. God dealeth with us as with children rather than servants — not laying down an express precept for every possible case, but supposing in us a principle which will always lead to our considering what will be pleas- ing to himself, and to our taking his pleasure as our rule. And just as the affectionate child will watch the coun- tenance of the parent, obeying what he reads there as well as what he hears from the lip, so should the Christian search for the least indication of God's will and give it all the force of a posi- tive statute. But can we say that we do this 1 Can we deny, that, for the most part, we rather compute how little God will take than how much we can give ; what may be withheld, than what sur- rendered'? That a thing is doubtful, does not make us shun it as though it were wrong : we are more disposed, under the plea of its being dubious, to adopt it as right. It is not sufFicient for us, that God is likely to be better pleased if we abstain than if we in- dulge : we urge the want of express command, and are secretly gratified that it does not exist. Alas, then, how are we reproved by the warriors of Da- vid ! What Christians should we be, if, with them, a wish were law enough to arm us against danger and death ! Go in thought to the field of battle, where Israel is ranged against the Philistine, when you may feel inclined to evade a painful duty under the plea of its not being distinctly enjoined. When you would excuse yourselves from making a sacrifice, foregoing an indulgence, or attempting a difficulty, by urging, that though it might be acceptable to God, at least he has not made it indispensa- ble, observe what the servants of an earthly king could do in the absence of command, and let the servants of a heavenly blush to do less. Who are these that rush upon the enemy, as though they knew nothing of danger and bore a charm against death 1 We see three warriors press along the plain; their whole demeanor is that of those charged with some fearful commission ; the fate of a kingdom has surely been given into their keep- ing ; they are urging forwards with the desperateness of men bidden, on some authority which they dare not resist, to attempt an enterprise involving the safety of thousands. Not so: these warriors might have remained inactive and yet been guilty of no positive dis- obedience to their leader. They have received no directions obliging them to draw the sword and hew a passage. They were just in the position in which you yourselves often are, with no com- mand from a master, but with some in- timation of a wish. And they are bui setting an example to the warriors of Christ — an example as to the taking every indication of the wish, as an expression of the will of our Lord, seeing that they are cutting their way through the hosts of the Philistine, not because they have heard David exclaim, " Unsheath the sword, and dare the foe ;" but only because they have heard him say, " Oh that one would give me drink of the water of the well cf Beth- lehem." But let us now pass from the con- THE WELL OF BETHLEHEM. 491 duct of the servants to that of David, in which there is matter, as it would seem, for blame as well as praise. You may be sure, that, if we have spoken with something like severity of ser- vants, it has not been in forgetfulness of how much, after all, the goodness of the servant depends upon the mas- ter. We never hear an instance of a domestic growing old in one family, without feeling that it tells well for both sides; if a good master will not keep a bad servant long, neither will a bad master long keep a good. It must, in truth, be through a mutual sj'stem of forbearance and accommodation, that any thing like harmony is main- tained in the several relations of life : to expect always to prescribe, and ne- ver to concede, shows an ignorance of human character and condition, which is sure to be visited with opposition and thwarting. They who look to be obeyed cheerfully, must take heed that they command judiciously ; the great- er the known readiness to comply with their wishes, the greater should be the caution that those wishes be always reasonable and just. And herein was David much in fault; for, knowing the devotedness of his followers, their attachment to his per- son, and their uncalculating bravery in his cause, he should have been all the more careful to give utterance to nei- ther a command nor a wish which he had not well weighed, or with which he did not desire a literal compliance. It was not fitting in a man, who had learnt, by experience, that the warm hearts about him would obey his very look, to express a rash longing — and such, at least, was that for water from Bethlehem. We have no reason to suppose that there was no water in the camp, or that none could have been procured from more accessible springs. Perhaps the well of Bethle- hem was celebrated for its water ; or perhaps David, as having been born and brought up in Bethlehem, had a special affection for the fountain of which he had drunk in his youth. This longing for the well of Bethle- hem in an hour of danger and strife, may have been one of those instances of the travelling back of the mind to the days and scenes of boyhood, which are so common and so touching amid the woes and struggles of more ad- vanced life ; the fields where we once played seeming to mock us by their greenness, and the well-remembered waters and trees sparkling and waving before the eye, as though to reproach our having abandoned what was so peaceful and pure for the whirl and din of the w^orld. It may have been thus with David : his circumstances were now harassing and perplexed, and, as he felt his difficulties and per- ils, the imagery of his youth may have come thronging before him — himself a shepherd-boy, and his flock grazing on the bank of a quiet glassy stream ; and it may have been but an expression of something like regret that days were so changed, when he exclaimed, " Oh that one would give me drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem which is by the gate." But, whatever were the uppermost feeling in the mind of David, we may fall back upon our assertion, that, cir- cumstanced as he was, it ought not to have been expressed. Indeed, even had he not had such reason to know that those around him were on the watch for the intimation of his wishes, he would not have been warranted in giving words to a desire, that others would risk life just to gratify himself. There is all the difference between the feeling and the expressing a desire ; we are not necessarily answerable for the former — we must be for the latter: even as an evil thought may be darted into the mind, we cannot tell whence, and we be innocent notwithstanding ; but the thought cannot be embodied in speech and we not be guilty. If Da- vid's wish were harmless, as breathed only to himself, it was not so as declared to his servants : he must have known its gratification impossible, except at the risk of many lives. Not that we suppose that David entertained- any thought of his wish being acted upon ; in all likelihood it never crossed his mind that the desperate sally would be made. But it is precisely in this that he was to blame ; it ought to have crossed his mind : he would not issue a command which he did not mean to be obeyed ; neither, circumstanced and surrounded as he was, should he have hinted a wish, if he did not design the gratification to be attempted. 492 THE WELL OF BETHLEHEM. And it is here that we may obtain some general rules which all who have authority would do well to adopt. You see that, in proportion as you are faith- fully and affectionately served, you are bound to be careful how you issue a command or breathe a desire. Take it as the perfection of a servant, to be anxious only to know, that he may do, his master's will ; and it is the per- fection of a master, to manifest no will but what his servant may be able, and with good conscience, to perform. There can be no tyranny greater, and none more ungenerous, than that which, taking advantage of the con- dition or attachment of a domestic, imposes duties which are too severe, or tasks which are unlawful. I may feel that a servant is either so dependent upon me, or so devoted to my wishes, that he will tell a lie at my bidding, and assure the visiter that I am from home when he knows me in the house. But Avhat is to be said of my baseness, my cruelty, in prescribing to a fellow-crea- ture over whom I have some kind of power, that he should do what he can- not do, and not offend the God of truth ! I may not actually mean him to tell a lie ; I may suppose that there is a sort of conventional understanding in society which causes a certain sense to be put on the phrase which I dic- tate : but it is too much to expect that the fine-drawn distinction should be perceived by the servant; his feeling must be that he has told a direct false- hood for my sake ; and it is hardly reasonable to require that he should not, at other times, tell one for his own. And this is but a particular case, which may be taken to illustrate the general rule. The general rule is, that, in every command, in every wish, there be due consideration for the ability, the comfort, and the con- science of the domestic. No longing for the water of Bethlehem, if it can- not be had but by strength unduly tasked, time so engrossed that none remains for prayer, or principle so dis- regarded that man's law supersedes God's. Neither is this all which should be gathered or inferred from the circum- stances under review. You see how easily what was never meant as a command may be received as such, where there is affectionate watchful- ness amongst friends and attendants. Then what care should there be, that nothing be said in joke which may be taken in earnest, nothing even hinted at as our belief or desire, which we would not have acted on by those who hear the words. It is specially to chil- dren that this remark applies ; for they may be supposed to have all that sub- missiveness to authority, and that wil- lingness to oblige, which distinguish- ed David's warriors, as well as that inability of discriminating a casual expression from an actual direction, which seems equally to have belonged to the men, who felt themselves bidden to attempt the passage to Bethlehem, The child, from his age, can know lit- tle of any figures of speech, and will commonly adopt the literal interpreta- tion ; thus, what was never meant to be seriously understood may exert all the force of precept or instruction. In this way may indiscreet conversation, to which they who carry it on attach no importance, and which they never dream of any one's taking as express- ing their actual thoughts and feelings, be received by young minds with all the reverence which they are taught to render unto truth. Disciplined to respect their superiors, and, therefore, to attach credit to their words — in- structed to obey them implicitly, and, therefore, to consult their very wishes, it can hardly fail but that what is ut- tered in their presence will pass for true, and what is desired appear worth being sought. And probably children often imbibe opinions, which form the foundation of character, from casual expressions dropped in their hearing, and which, had explanation been asked, they would have found to have been spoken without thought and almost without meaning. Who shall tell us the effect of a joke upon sacred things, the levity of which may have been par- doned by elder persons for the sake of the wit, but the irreverence of which may sink deep into younger, and work a half persuasion that the Bible, after all, is not that awful volume with which it were sacrilege to trifle 1 Who shall tell us what is done by discourse on the advantageousness of wealth, and by hasty wishes, perhaps thought- lessly uttered, for larger measure of THE WELL OF BETHLEHEM. 493 earthly possessions 1 The seeds of covetousiiess may have been sown in the young hearer, when the speaker himself has been indifferent to money 5 and the child of a parent who is actu- ally content with a little, may grow up with a passion for much, from ha- ving overheard the parent talk as though he desired a far ampler for- tune. You may tell us that we assign causes disproportionate to effects: as well tell us that the oak cannot spring from the acorn. Life is made up of little things j and human character, traced to its beginning, will be found issuing from drops rather than from fountains. You ought, therefore, when speaking before those whom you in- struct to respect and obey you, to speak on the supposition that all which you assert will be received as true, all for which you wish be ac- counted desirable. You must not think aloud, if you do not mean your thoughts to pass for verities or have the weight of commands. If such a rule be neglected, you must not be surprised if they who hear you enter upon the paths which you never meant them to tread, and afterwards plead your authority in excuse. There may again occur precisely what occurred with David and his servants. It is not that the monarch has commanded his warriors to dare death, that they may fetch him water from a favorite spring. It is not that he has even wished them to undertake the rash and perilous en- terprise. It is only that, without re- flection or thought, he gave utterance to something that was passing in his mind, and that those about him over- heard the inconsiderate expression. And do you mark that young person, who is devoting himself vvith uncalcu- lating eagerness to some worldly pur- suit, as though he had been trained to nothing but the acquisition of honor or wealth 1 Is it that the parent lit- erally instructed him to rush through all danger that he might but grasp the coveted thing 1 Is it that he was told, in so many words, to give energy, and talent, and time, to the obtaining a perishable good, so that he can urge the precept of a father, whom he loved and revered, as justifying a career in which the object is worthies'?, if com- pared with the risk and the toll 1 Pro- bably not so. The parent never wish- ed hjm thus to squander his powers; the parent never thought that he would ; but that parent, having gained his af- fections and secured his attention to his commands and his wishes, was little careful as to what he let fall in his hearing; he Avas apt to say what he did not mean, to give words to feelings which he would never have breathed, had he remembered the pos- sibility of their being received as gen- uine, or interpreted as laudable ; in short, like David, when nothing was further from his wish than that his wish should be acted on, he was used to utter exclamations such as this, '' that one Avould give me drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem which is by the gate." But this only sets before you what appears blame-worthy in the conduct of David : we have yet to consider what there may be to deserve praise or imi- tation. And this is to be sought in what he did when his followers return- ed, and placed before him the water for which he had inconsiderately long- ed. It would not have been strange, or unnatural, had he argued that, though he had done wrong in expressing the wish, it could not be unlawful to use the means of gratifying that wish so unexpectedly provided. He might have said, I would not indeed have exposed the lives of my brave soldiers, in order to obtain this refreshment ; but now that, unbidden, and from the w^armth of their attachment, the)- have cut their \vay to the well, and brought me of its flowings, I may surely quench my thirst, and thus afford them the best reward for their zeal in my service. But David argued differently, in a manner that showed more of high principle, and strong fear of God. He felt that there was a contradiction, in own- ing an action WTong, and allowing him- self to be advantaged by that action. The least which he could do, in proof of his consciousness of error, was to refuse to appropriate what that error had procured. He must punish him- self, by an act of self-denial, for a want of self-command, and show that, if he had been betrayed into expressing a rash wish, he had at least discovered, and repented of", the rashness. And 494 THE WELL OF BETHLEHEM. therefore he would not taste the cov- eted draught, but made it a kind of of- fering to the Lord, pouring it oa the ground, in witness that he had sinned, and that, having sinned, he needed an expiatory ablution. It is not the heroism of David, in acting thus, which we propose for ad- miration and imitation, though it may be, as we stated in an earlier part of our discourse, that the monarch, parch- ed with thirst, and yet refusing to touch the water which sparkled so in- vitingly before him, would form as fine a picture as human story can give of forbearance and greatness. But it is the genuineness of the repentance of David on which we would insist, the sincerity of his piety as proved by his refusal to derive benefit from his sin. We think that herein is he specially an example to ourselves, and that the cases are far from uncommon, in which there is such similarity of circumstance, as to render the example most direct and appropriate. It is not for a moment to be ques- tioned that a present advantage is of- ten the immediate result of what is wrong, so that, in one way or another, the sin produces what the sinner de- sires to obtain. If it were not so, if the consequences of doing wrong were never, nay, if they were not frequent- ly, profitable to the individual who does the wrong thing, we hardly know where, in most instances, temptation would lie, or where would be the ex- ercise of virtue. In general, it is a balance between the present and the future which we are required to strike : the great task to which we are sum- moned, is the not allowing ourselves to be overborne by immediate results, so as to keep more distant out of sight, but the calculating what will be for our profit on the whole, visible things and invisible being alike brought into account. And, of course, whilst such is our condition, or such the system of probation beneath which we live, a sort of temporary reward must often be at- tainable by the sinner: there must be something of advantage to be procured through want of principle, and lost through rigid conscientiousness. Such cases will often occur in the stir and jostle of a mercantile community, where vast interests become so involved, and immense revenues so depend on the turn of a single speculation, that the least underhand dealing might at times fill a man's coffers, and almost a dis- honest thought transform him from the poor to the wealthy. And we are now concerned with the question, as to what is binding on a man, if, with the advantages, procured by a fault, lying at his disposal, the water from the well of Bethlehem sparkling before him, he become con- vinced of his fault, aware that he has done wrong, or not acted with the ho- nor and integrity which he was bound to have maintained. Is he to drink of the water, to enjoy the advantages'? Ah, it may be often a hard question : but we do not see how there can be any true penitence, where what has been wrongfully obtained is kept and used, as though it had been the pro- duce of equitable dealing. If a man have grown rich by dishonesty, he ought, we believe, to become poor through repentance. We cannot think it enough, if an individual, who has not made his money in the most clean- handed way, and who feels compunc- tion in consequence, give large sums in charity, as an atonement, or repara- tion for his fault. If he only give what he can conveniently spare, or even if his charities somewhat press on his resources, he certainly does nothing , but what, on high christian principle, he would be bound equally to do, had his property accumulated in the most \ honorable modes. And it cannot be sufficient to make that use of money unjustly acquired, which a man of ] strong piety would make of the pro- i duce of integrity and industry, and | thus, over and above the concealment of having been dishonest, to acquire the reputation of being benevolent. We should, therefore, be disposed | to give the conduct of David as fur- nishing an example for those, who, conscious of a fault, are so situated as to be able to reap advantage from that fault. Let the case be that at which we have just hinted, as not unlikely to oc- . cur amid the complicated interests of a great mercantile community. Let us suppose an opportunity, presented to a trader, of making large profits, if he will but deviate, in some trifling par- , ticular, from what is strictly and un- !j THE WELL OF BETHLEHEM. 495 doubtedly upright. The fault to be committed may hardly be greater than that committed by David, who did no- thing but thoughtlessly give utterance to a wish which ought not to have been entertained, or at least not expressed. It may just depend on the keeping back of some piece of information which the trader is not compelled to divulge, and which others, if equallj'" on the alert, and equally shrewd, might perhaps have equally obtained, whether a certain article shall fetch a certain price, or be suddenly and greatly de- preciated. The trader does nothing but hold his tongue, as David did no- thing but give it too much license, and a large profit in consequence lies at his disposal. But now a feeling is wrought in the trader's mind, that it was not the act of a conscientious and high princi- pled man, to take advantage of the ig- norance of others, and thus entangle them in a bargain which they would not have made, with his reasons for expecting the sudden fall in the mar- ket. And as he debates what ought to be done with property so dubiously acquired, his first resolution will pro- bably be to use it well and religiouslj^ : at least, he will say, it increases my power of benefiting others, and pro- moting religious objects ; and I may lawfully retain it, intending that it shall be thus employed. But this is, to the very letter, what David would have done, had he resolved to drink the wa- ter, arguing that it would refresh and invigorate him, and thus enable him to fight with greater strength the battle of the Lord. But God will have no of- fering on which there is a stain. Mo- ney, soiled by the mode of acquisition, is hardly to be sanctified by the mode of employment. When Zaccheus stood before Christ, and described what he did with his property, he spake of giv- ing half his goods to the poor; but, mark, he did not reckon amongst those goods what he might have acquired through underhand dealing — such por- tion, if such there Avere, was not his to retain or distribute at pleasure: "If I have taken any thing from any man by false accusation, I restore him four- fold." There was an accurate distinc- tion made by this publican, now that he had been brought to a correct state of mind, between restitution and alms- giving : he would give alms of that on- ly which had been honorably obtained ; the rest he returned, with large inter- est, to those from whom it had been unfairly procured. And though it might be impossible for the trader, in the case just suppos- ed, to make restitution precisely to the parties who have been injured through his successful speculations, we do not see how, with his conscience accusing him of having done wrong, he can law- fully appropriate any share of the pro- fits, any more than David might have lawfully drunk of the water procured at his ill-advised wish. It may not be possible to make restitution; for so in- terwoven are various interests, and so many are the contrivances for shifting ofl^ losses from ourselves, and making them fall upon others, that it is often hard to say where the pressure really rests ; and it is among the most me- lancholy of facts, that the rich specu- lator who seems only to sweep up the gains of men of large means like himself, would often be found, if you could trace the efljects of his specula- tions through their multifold spread- ings, to have compassed unwittingly the ruin of a hundred petty dealers, and wrung away the scanty pittance of orphans and widows. But if there may not be restitution, because the ex- act objects injured are not to be ascer- tained, we do not, nevertheless, under- stand why there should be appropria- tion. The king of Israel held the hel- met in his hands, and looked upon the water as it sparkled in that war-cup. Was he tempted by the freshness and clearness of the coveted draught, now that he felt how wrong he had been in breathing the wish"? Oh, no! it looked to him like blood : it came not from the well of Bethlehem, but from the veins of his soldiers : shall he drink, so to speak, of the very life of another 1 he shrinks from the thought and will do nothing with the water but pour it out to God. And the trader stands, with the pro- fits of his scarcely honorable specula- tion glittering before him. Shall he in- vest them for his own usel shall he take possession of them for himself and his family 1 Oh, they may have been coined out of the losses, the dis- tresses, the sufferings of numerous households ; they may as well seem lo 496 THE WELL OF BETHLEHEM- him dimmed with tears, as the water seemed to David polhited with blood ; and we would have him, if his repent- ance be sincere, and he desire to prove that sincerity, imitate the monarch in refusing to appropriate the least por- tion, in pouring out the whole as an offering to the Lord ; and in exclaim- ing, when tempted to profit by the sin for which he professes to be sorry, " Be it far from me, O Lord, that I should do this." Now we have thus endeavored to give a practical character to a narra- tive of Scripture, which it is easy to read without supposing it to convey any personal lessons. Probably some of you, on the announcement of our subject, expected us to treat it as a ty- pical history : for the mention of the well of Bethlehem, and the longing for its water, might immediately suggest that Christ was born in Bethlehem of Judah, and that he offers to each of us, what, in his own words, " shall be in him a well of water, springing up into everlasting life." But it maybe doubt- ful whether we have, in this instance, sufficient authority for regarding the registered occurrences as symbolical; at all events, we should never spiritu- alize any narrative of facts, till the facts have been carefully examined as facts, and the lessons extracted which their record may have been designed to convey. But whilst we should hesitate to found any doctrinal statement on the narrative before us, considered as typi- cal, we know not why, having strictly confined ourselves to the plainest and most practical view of the passage, we may not now, in conclusion, survey the occurrences with an eye that looks for Christ and the Gospel, in the persons and events of earlier dispensations. There may be truth in the supposition, which some have advanced, that David had only a spiritual meaning in the wish to which he gave utterance. It is possi- ble ; and, if so, the whole transaction may have had that significative cha- racter which belongs to much of the history of early days, and which turn- ed occurrences into parables, through which God instructed his faithful ser- vants. David, partially informed as to the scheme of redemption, and know- ing that he himself was, in many points, set to prefigure the Messiah, must of- ten have longed for fuller disclosures, and striven to give shape and con- sistency to dim, mysterious images, which passed to and fro in his visions as a prophet. He would associate Bethlehem, his own birth-place, with the birth-place of the Deliverer of whom he was a type ; and look natu- rally on the trees and waters of that village, as obtaining a holy, a sym- bolical character from the illustrious Being who would arise there in "the fulness of time." It might then have been a wish for greater knowledge of redemption, which was uppermost in the monarch's mind, when he longed for water from the well of Bethlehem. How natural, that, harassed as he was with temporal troubles, he should de- sire spiritual consolations, and that he should pray for the refreshments which were eventually to gush forth, as he well knew, from Bethlehem. And may there not have been con- veyed to him, through what then took place, intimations in regard of the de- liverance of the world 1 Certainly, it were not difficult to give a parabolic character to the occurrences, and to imagine them ordered with a view to David's instruction. If water is to be fetched from the well of Bethlehem, it must be with the discomfiture of a vast host of foes : three unite in the purpose, and overbear all opponents. And if " living water " is to be brought to those who lie parched on the moral desert of the earth, indeed it can only be with the defeat of mightier than the Philistines : principality and power withstand the endeavor : who shall prevail in so great an enterprise 1 Three must combine : it is not a work for any one person, even though divine ; but three shall unite, to strike down the adversaries, and bring the draught of life to the perishing: and if the cup come apparently in the hand of but one of the three, the other two shall have been equally instrumental in pro- curing the blessing. Thus far there is so much analogy as would seem to make it not impro- bable, that the transaction was design- ed to be significative or symbolical. But does the analogy end here 1 We would not carry it too far ; and yet we can believe that a still deeper lesson THE THIRST OF CUEIST. 497 was opened up to David. Did he long for water from the Avell of Bethlehem 1 did he think that it was only water, something merely to refresh the parch- ed lip of the pilgrim, which was to ffow from the Surety of a world that iniqui- ty had ruined \ It may have been so : it may have been that he was yet but imperfectly taught in the mysterious truths of propitiation and redemption. What then 1 he receives what he had longed for, what had been drawn from the well of Bethlehem ; but it seems to him not Avater, it seems to him blood, the blood of one of those who had braved - so much for his re- freshment. May he not have learned something from this as to the nature of the interposition which the Kedeemer would make] May he not have ga- thered that the fountain to be opened, for the cleansina: and refreshinsf of the world, would be a fountain of blood 1 " My blood is drink indeed " — these words, uttered years after by the Re- deemer himself, may have been virtu- ally syllabled to the Psalmist, through i his being forced to regard as blood the water from the well of Bethlehem, ' that well to which he looked as typi- j fying, in some way, the person or of- ' fice of Christ. And then there iis a high solemnity in his pouring out the water unto the Lord. It was the blood of the costliest sacrifice, and must all be presented as an expiatory ofiering. We know not whether David were thus instructed or not ; whether the transaction were designed to be signi- ficative, nor whether, if it were, the symbols were explained. But certain- ly the occurrences are such as might be woven into a kind of parable of re- demption ; and it is always pleasing to find figures and shadows which, correspond to Christian truths, even where we have no express warrant for asserting the resemblance. Bless- ed be God, we need not long in vain for water from the well of Bethlehem. The host of the mighty have been broken through ; a stronger than the strong has unlocked for us the flow- ings of the river of life : but oh, if we would take of the stream, and live for ever, we must acknowledge it as the blood of Him who went on our behalf against "principalities and powers," and who finding the springs of hu- man happiness dried, filled them from his own veins, and they gushed with immortality. SERMON VIII. THE THIRST OF CHRIST. "■< After lliii, Jesus, knowms that all ihings were now acconiplisliecl, that the Scriplufc iiiight be fulfillecl, saith, I thirst."— John,. 19 : 2G. If an impostor were to arise, desir- ous of passing himself off as some per- sonage whom prophets had foretold, he would naturally take the recorded predictions, and endeavor to make the facts of his history agree with their J announcem.ents. It would evidently be ' useless for him to pretend to the be- I ing the predicted individual, unless he I could point out at least an apparent correspondence between what he was, . and what, he did, and the character and C3 498 THE THIRST OF CHRIST. conduct which prophecy had delinea- ted. There would, of course, be an immediate reference to the ancient Avritings, an immediate comparison of their foretellings with what was now given as their accomplishment; and if the two did not agree, the pretender would be instantly scouted, and no one could for a moment be deceived by his pretensions. Hence the great endeavor of the supposed impostor would certainly be to extract from prophecy a full account of the actions and fortunes of the indi- vidual for whom he wished to be taken, and then, as nearly as possible, to make those actions and fortunes his own. Suppose, for example, that an im- postor had desired to pass himself off as the Messiah, the deliverer and ruler, so long and anxiously expected by the Jews. He would necessarily have been aware that the national expectation rested on certain ancient prophecies, and that all which could be known be- forehand of the Christ was contained in certain books received as inspired. It is not, therefore, to be imagined that he would fail to be a student of pro- phecy, or to take its descriptions as sketches in which he must exhibit de- lineations of himself. But, supposing him to have done this, could he have made much way in establishing a cor- respondence between himself and the subject of prophecy 1 It is easy, un- doubtedly, to find, or fancy, predic- tions of which a man might contrive an apparent fulfilment in respect of himself. They might be predictions of certain things that should be done, and these, or very similar, the man might be able to perform. They might be pre- dictions of certain things that should be suffered; and these, or very similar, the man might endure. But could the individual, whom we have supposed setting up for the Messiah, have man- aged to effect a conformity between his actions and sufferings, and those predicted of our Lord! It is allowed on all hands, that the history of Christ, as related in the Gospels, corresponds, with great accuracy, to what prophets had foretold of the Messiah. But is the correspondence such as an ingenious impostor, having the prophecie's in his hands, and studying to produce their apparent accomplishment, could have possibly effected 1 This is a question well worth the being asked, though the answer is so easy that you may all give it for yourselves. There are a few respects in which an impostor might have contrived the fulfilment of prophecy. But most of j the predictions referring to Christ are i of things over which the individual | could have no control : predictions, for example, as to the place and circum- stances of his birth, as to the treatment which he should meet with, and the death which he should die. They are ' predictions which were not to be fulfill- ed by the actions of the party himself, but by the actions of others ; and we ) need not say how little power the indi- vidual could have of making others so act as seemingly to accomplish pro- phecy, however bent he might be on the apparently fulfilling it himself, j And it ought to be further observed, j that if an impostor had endeavored, in i the time of our Lord, to pass himself off | as the predicted Messiah, and, accord- ; ingly, had attempted to effect a cor- respondence between his own history and prophecy, he would never have made himself ''a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief." He would have taken the national expectation as the just interpretation of prophecy, and never have thought of making good his pretensions by affecting a resem- blance between himself and delinea- tions which those around him either denied 'or disliked. His pattern would unquestionably have been the Messiah, not as described by seers of old, but rather as described in the popular ex- planations of their visions : and Ave need not tell you that such a Messiah was not presented in the person of our Lord and Master Christ. Thus there is nothing easier than the showing that the correspondence which may be traced between Jesus of Naza- reth, and a mysterious personage of whom ancient prophecy makes frequent mention, is such as could not have been produced by any impostor, however art- ful or powerful. Even had prophecy been far clearer and more explicit than it was; had it not required, in many par- ticulars Avhich now seem quite plain, the being accomplished in order to the be- ing thoroughly understood; we may fearlessly declare that no pretender, THE THIRST OF CHRIST. 499 taking it as his guide, and laboring to make his life its illustration, could have succeeded in effecting, even in appear- ance, the thousandth part of those nu- merous, striking, and frequently mi- nute fulfilments which are to be traced in the actions and endurances of Him whom we honor as the King of Israel, the Anointed of God. But why have we gone into these remarks on a point which, perhaps, may never have occurred to any of our hearers'? for, probably, none of you ever entertained a suspicion that Christ might have contrived those ful- filments of prophecy on which so much stress is laid. Our reason is easily given. We have in our text the re- cord of a thing done by Christ, with the view, or for the purpose, of accom- plishing an ancient prediction. The course pursued is precisely that which, according to our foregoing statements, an impostor might have been expected to take. The party claiming to be the Messiah remembers a certain prophecy which has not yet been fulfilled, and forthwith sets himself to procure its fulfilment. It is, you see, expressly stated that Jesus said, ''I thirst," in order that he might bring round the accomplishment of a passage of Scrip- ture. And had this been the solitary instance in which prophecy found itself fulfilled in the history of Jesus, or had other fulfilments been of the same kind, such, that is, as might possibly have been contrived or planned, we admit that the argument from prophecy would have been of little worth in establish- ing the Messiahship of our Lord. But we have already sufiiciently shown you that no such explanation can be given of the correspondences between history and prophecy in the case of the Redeemer ; forasmuch as many of them were such as it was not in the power of any pretender to have produced, and many more would have been ! avoided, rather than attempted, by the shrewdest deceiver. And this having been determined, we may allow that Christ occasionally acted with the ex- press design of fulfilling predictions which had reference to himself; that he shaped his conduct, and ordered his sayings, with a view to agreement vith what prophets had foretold. We nay admit this, without any misgiv- I ings that we perhaps weaken the ar- gument from prophecy, seeing that, whilst what we admit is of very rare occurrence, it cannot bring suspicion upon evidence derived from the gene- ral character of predictions, and their accomplishment. And it is worth your observing that, even in the case before us, though un- questionably Christ complained of thirst for the purpose of fulfilling a prophecy, it was not in man's power to ensure the fulfilment. His mere complaining of the thirst accomplished no predic- tion. • The prediction, as we shall pre- sently see, required that when the Mes- siah was thirsty there should be given him vinegar to drink. Had our Lord asked for vinegar, and had vinegar been brought him, there might have been some ground for saying that he actually made the accomplishment of a prophe- cy. But when he only complained of thirst, and when, in answer to his com- plaint, not merely was a sponge pat to his mouth, but a sponge full of vine- gar, you may see that there were cir- cumstances, and contingencies, which could hardly have been provided for, except by divine foresight ; so that, although indeed Christ made his com- plaint, '' that the Scripture might be fulfilled," there is little probability that the Scripture would have been fulfilled had he not been in truth the-Son of the living God. You may say that Christ saw '' the vessel full of vine- gar," and that he might fairly have calculated that a complaint of thirst would be met by the offer of vinegar. But, at least, he could not have ar- ranged that the vinegar should be the nearest drink at hand, even if it were at hand ; for " one of them ran, and took a sponge, and filled it with vinegar ;" and thus, put the case how you will, the accomplishment of the prophecy hardly came within human contrivance. Or you may say, that, as vinegar was commonly used by the Roman soldiers, the almost certainty was that vinegar would be offered : but it appears that only one person was willing to attend to Christ's complaint, " the rest said, Let be, let us see whether Elias will come to save him." How far, then, was the accomplishment from having been necessarily in the power of a deceiver ! We may, however, consider that 500 THE THIRST OF CHEI3T. enough has now been said on an ob- jection which might be raised against a fulfilment of prophecy, because there was an evident acting with a view to that fulfilment. We would pass to more interesting statements, which may be grounded on the very simple, but af- fecting incident, which is recorded in our text. We hardly know whether, in the whole narrative of the Mediator's sufferings, there is a verse so full of material for profitable meditation. We shall not attempt to parcel out this ma- terial under any set divisions, but ra- ther leave ourselves free to follow such trains of thought as may successively present themselves. We shall only as- sign it, as the general object of the re- mainder of our discourse, to examine the truths and inferences derivable from the facts, that, just before he expired, Christ exclaimed, " I thirst," and that he uttered the exclamation in order " that the Scripture might be fulfilled." Now we think it well deserving your notice, that it should have been for the sake of accomplishing prophecy, and not for that of assuaging his pains, that our Lord, in his last moments, com- plained of thirst. It seems implied in the concise statement of the Evange- list, that, had he not remembered a prediction which was yet unfulfilled, Christ would have been silent, though he might have used of himself the touching words of the Psalmist, " BIy strength is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue cleaveth to my jaws." Intolerable must have been his thirst as he hung between heaven and earth ; yet he would never, as it seems, have mentioned that thirst, nor asked a sin- gle drop of moisture, had he not thought it necessary to the complete proof of his mission. You know that this is the solitary exclamation which he uttered expressive of bodily suffering. He is not reported to have said any thing when the crown of thorns was fasten- ed round his forehead. There is no re- corded cry, or groan, when the "nails were driven into his hands and feet, or when the cross was set upright, though the pain must have been acute, almost beyond thought. He endured all this, not only without a murmur, but with- out even a manifestation, or indication, of his agony ; so that never was there the martyr who bore with greater for- titude the torments of a lingering and excruciating death. His other sufferings, however, scarce- ly admitted of alleviation ; there was nothing to be done but submit, and wait patiently for death. Though even in re- gard of these he seems to have declin- ed the ordinary modes of mitigation, for he refused the " wine mingled with myrrh," which was tendered him just before his crucifixion, and which, by partially stupifying the victim, might have diminished the torture. He had a great work to perform on the cross, and he would not deaden his faculties ere he ascended that terrible altar. But thirst might have been relieved — thirst, which must have been one of the most distressing consequences of crucifixion — and it would have been natural that he should have asked of the bystanders a few drops of water. And he did mention his thirst, but not for the sake of moistening the parched tongue and throat — only to afford oc- casion for another proof of his being the Messiah, It is as though he had no thought to give to his sufferings, but, even in the moment of terrible extre- mity, were intent upon nothing but the great work which he had undertaken for men. We may even venture to think that not only was it not for the sake of mitigating his sufferings that he complained of thirst ; but that it was an increase of those sufferings to have to make the complaint. The multitude, which stood round, were disposed to treat him with derision ; they Avere watching him, maliciously and scorn- fully, that they might triumph in his anguish. You may judge how eager thej'^ were to show contempt and ha- tred of the sufferer, from what we have already referred to, as having occur- red on his utterance of the piteous cry, "My God, my God, why hast thou for- saken mel" The insulting shout im- mediately arose, " This man calleth for Elias" — so ready were they to make him the subject of ridicule, and so on the watch for proof that they had suc- ceeded in driving the iron into his soul. But hitherto he had, as it were, al- most baffled and disappointed them : he had betrayed little or no emotion ; but, by his apparent superiority to bodily torture, had denied them all occasion for fierce exultation. And it quite con- THE THIRST OF CHRIST. 501 sists with what we know of the inno- cent but sensitive suflerer, that we should suppose it a new trial to him to have to confess Avhat he felt, and thus to expose himself to the revilings of his inveterate enemies. There had been hitherto such a majesty in his an- guish, such an awful and dignified de- fiance of torture, as must almost have made the executioner crouch before the victim. And now must he, as it were, yield 1 Must he, by an acknow- ledgment of suffering, gratify a savage crowd, and pierce the few fond and faithful hearts which were to be found at the foot of the cross "? His mother was within hearing; at her side was the disciple whom he loved ; they were already wounded to the quick — shall he lacerate them yet more by speaking of his wretchedness ] But the Scripture must be fulfilled. There was yet a particular in which prophecy had to be accomplished ; and every other feeling gave way to that of the necessity of completing the proof of his being the Messiah. It was the last, and one of the most touching, of the evidences of his love. It was only his love for us which made him speak of his thirst. He would not leave the smallest room for doubt that he was indeed the promised Redeemer : he loved us too well not to provide against every possible suspicion ; and there- fore, though he v/ould never have com- plained for the sake of obtaining any assuagement of the pain ; though he would have desired to avoid complain- ing, that he might not provoke fresh insult from the multitude ; though he would have kept silence, if only that he might not add to the grief of the few who tenderly loved him ; yet, ra- ther than allow the least particle to be wanting in the evidence whereby we might know him as the Christ, he gave all but his last words to an expression of distress. Oh, we know of nothing which more shows the ardency of the Savior's love for the church, than this confession of thirst just before he expired. We look on him with admiration, as he stands unmoved before Pilate, and returns no answer to the vishement accusations poured forth by his countrymen. "He is brought as a lamb to the slaughter ; and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth." We behold him scourged, and buffeted, and crowned with thorns, and nailed to the accursed tree — and we are amazed, yea, confounded, by his patience ; for not the least cry is wrung from him in his anguish. Is it that he does not feel acutely 1 Is it that his humanity is not sensitive to pain] Ah, not so. He is, all the while, tortured by an excrucia- ting thirst, which is at once the evi- dence and the accompaniment of rack- ing pangs. But he has to set an exam- ple of endurance ; he is moreover oc- cupied with thoughts and hopes of the world's deliverance ; and, therefore, by a mighty effort, he keeps down the struggling sorrow, and restrains every token of agony. This then is in love to us; his si- lence is in love to us. But it might have accorded best with the feelings of so lofty a Being, thus to baffle his adversaries, by refusing to let them see him writhe beneath their merciless in- flictions — does he love us so well that he will even yield to those adversaries, and confess himself vanquished, if it might be for our good ] Yea, even this he will do ; for rememberincr, as he hangs upon the cross, a prediction which has yet to be fulfilled, he forgets all in his desire to provide for our con- viction, and breaks into the cry, "I thirst," in order only that the Scrip- ture might be accomplished. But we have stated that the predic- tion, which our Lord had in mind, was not one of great prominence, not one perhaps whose fulfilment would appear to us of much moment. We may sup- pose it to have been to words in the sixty-ninth Psalm that Christ mentally referred : " They gave me also gall for my meat, and in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink." There is no other express prophecy whose accom- plishment he can bo thought to have contemplated ; and we may venture to say, that, if this had not been literally fulfilled in respect of our Lord, we should hardly have urged it as an ob- jection against his pretensions. Accus- tomed to regard the Psalms as spoken primarily in the person of David, we do not expect, even when they are un- doubtedly prophetic, to find every line verified in the history of that Messiah of whom David was the type. We ex- 502 THE THIRST OF CHRIST. perience no surprise, if, in a Psalm, the quotations from which in the New Testament prove that it speaks of the Christ, we meet with verses which we cannot distinctly show to be applicable to our Lord. Suppose then that Christ had died without complaining of thirst, and without receiving the vinegar — we should perhaps scarcely have said that there was a prediction which had never been accomplished. We should either have supposed that the verse in ques- tion belonged in some way to David, or we should have given it, as we easily might, a figurative sense, and then have sought its fulfilment ia the indignities and cruelties of which Christ was the subject. And this shows you what a very mi- nute particular it was in the predictions of himself, which caused our Lord to break silence, and utter an expression of suffering. It was a particular which we should probably have overlooked, or of which, at least, we should never .have reckoned the literal accomplish- ment indispensable to the completeness of the prophetic evidence for Christ. Yet, so anxious, so determined was the Redeemer to leave us no possible ex- cuse for rejecting him as the anointed of God, that, not satisfied with having fulfilled all but this inconsiderable par- ticular, and though to fulfil it must cost him, as we have shown you, a very painful effort, he would not breathe out his soul till he had tasted the vinegar. This was indeed a manifestation of his love: but there are other truths, be- sides that of the Savior's solicitude for our good, to be drawn from his deter- mination that the least prophecy should not go unaccomplished. You will observe that it is affirmed in the text, that Jesus knew that all things were now accomplished ; and that, knowing this, he proceeded to speak of his thirst, with a view to the fulfilment of yet one more prediction. Of course there were many things which had not been accomplished, ma- ny whose accomplishment was still ne- cessarily future, having respect to the burial, resurrection, ascension, and tri- umph of Christ. But Jesus knew that every thing was accomplished, which had to be accomplished before his ac- tual death, except the receiving the vinearar. He knew that there remained nothing but that the words, "In my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink," should be fulfilled in his person, and he might resign his soul into the hands of the Father, convinced that every pro- phecy which bore reference to the life or death of the Messiah, had received its completion, and would be a witness for him to all after ages. You must ad- mit that the text represents Jesus as knowing that there was but one word of prophecy which had not yet been accomplished, and that, too, a prophe- cy of so inconsiderable a particular, that we should scarcely have detected the want, had our Lord died without bringing it to pass. This is a most surprising testimony to the completion of prophecy : it is a bold challenge to the infidel who would dispute the claims of Him who hung upon the cross. By taking an appa- rently unimportant prediction, and dealing with it as the only prediction, whether in type or in word, which had not yet been fulfilled, Jesus may be said to have staked his Messiahship on every single prophecy — " Find one, a solitary one, which I have not accom- plished, and I resign all pretension to the being God's Son." And when you come to think of the multitude of pre- dictions which have respect to the life and death of the Messiah, and of the almost countless mystical rites which, equally with the visions of seers, sha- dowed the " One Mediator between God and man," you can hardly fail to be amazed at the assertion, that Jesus knew that '' all things were now ac- complished." Yet, believing him to have been divine, we know him to have been omniscient ; and, therefore, we are emboldened so to state the argu- ment from prophecy, as to be ready to give up all, if you can find a single flaw. The writings of " holy men of old " teem with notices of that Being whom God had promised to send in " the fulness of time." Some of these notices relate to important, others to apparently trivial particulars. The line of which he was to spring, the power by which he should be con- ceived, the place in which he should be born, the dangers which should threaten his childhood, the miracles which he should work in his manhood, the treatment which he should receive. THE TIIIUST OV CHRIST. 503 the malice of his enemies, the deser- tion of his friends, the price at which lie should be sold, the dividing of his garments, the death which he should die — all these are stated with the pre- cision and minuteness of history; as though prophets had been biographers, and, not content with general outlines, had been instructed to furnish records of daily actions and occurrences. And over and above predictions so compre- hensive yet so aboundingin detail, there are figurative rites which all had respect to the same illustrious person ; a thou- sand types foreshow his office, a thou- sand emblems represent his deeds and his sufferings. And we are not satisfied with saying, that, in every striking and prominent particular, a correspondence may be traced between the Christ whose his- tory we have in the Gospels, and the Christ whom we find in the strains of prophets, and the institutions of the law. We do not ask you to admit that it must have been of Jesus of Naza- reth that the Old Testament spake, and that the temple services were full, because there are certain main fea- tures of that person in the description of inspired writers, and the shadows of ceremonial observances. Our position is, that there is not a single line in prophecy, which can be shown to refer to the life and death of the Messiah, which was not accomplished in Jesus; not a single type in the law to which he was not an antitype. You are at liberty to take any prediction, you are at liberty to take any shadow ; and we are ready to rest the cause of Christi- anity on that prediction's having been fulfilled in Jesus, or on his having been the substance of that shadow. Nei- ther is this the challenge of a rash and boastful theology. This is the crite- rion which the Founder of our religion himself may be said to have appointed, and that, too, at the very moment when he was finishing our redemption. And we know not how to convey to you our idea of the wonderfulness of the (fact, that Christ could feel, after he ihad hung for hours upon the cross, Ithat, if a few drops of vinegar were [given him by a bystander, every jot [and tittle would be accomplished of all [that had been foretold of the Messiah, lup to the time of his death, from the first prophecy to Afiam to the last words of Malachi. But it is unques- tionable, from our text, that such was his feeling : upon this feeling we may safely ground our challenge ; rather, we may consider it as the challenge of the Redeemer himself to the unbeliev- ing of every generation. It seems to us as though the Savior, whilst suspended between earth and heaven, had summoned before him every prophet and seer whom God had raised up in successive ages of the world, and had required each, as he passed in review, to give in his claims on the predicted Messiah. No marvel that he almost forgot his intense suf- ferings whilst engaged in so sublime and momentous an inquiry, whilst com- muning with patriarchs and priests, and the long train of heralds who had seen his day afar off, and kept expectation alive amongst men. And Abraham re- counts to him all the particulars of the sacrifice of his son : Jacob reminds him of the departure of the sceptre from Judah: Moses speaks of the re- semblance which must be borne to himself: Aaron, in his sacerdotal vest- ments, crowds the scene with mys- tic figures. Then arise the later pro- phets. They speak of- his virgin mo- ther ; of his divine parentage, and yet of his descent from David. Isaiah pro- duces his numerous, and almost his- toric, delineations: Daniel reckons up his seventy weeks: Micah fixes the nativity to Bethlehem Ephratah : Zech- ariah weighs the thirty pieces of sil- ver, and introduces her king to Jeru- salem, "riding upon an ass, and a colt, the foal of an ass :" Malachi revives Elias, and sends him as a messenger to "prepare the way of the Lord." And David, as though his harp had been fresh strung, pours forth again his touching melodies, repeating the pit- eous complaints which, mingled at times with notes of triumph, he had been instructed to utter in his typi- cal character. But one after another of these an- cient worthies passes from before the Mediator, leaving him assured that there is not the line in his prophetic scroll which has not been accom- plished. And that Mediator is just about to commend his soul into the hands of the Father, satisfied of there 504. THE THIRST OF CHRIST. being no defect in the evidence from proptiecy, when one saying of the roy- al Psalmist strikes him as not yet lite- rally verified, and he defers death a moment longer, that this too, though seemingly of little moment, may hold good of himself. Yes, champions of infidelity, disprove it if you can, and if you cannot, explain, if you can, on your own principles, how the almost countless lines of prophecy came to meet in one person, and that one Jesus whom you refuse to adore. Yes, fol- lowers of the Savior, search deeply into the fact, and after searching, fail, if you can, to triumph in the having as your leader one who fulfilled to the letter, in the short space of a life, whatsoever voices and visions from on high had assigned, through many cen- turies, to the seed of the woman. True it is, gloriously, incontestably true, that Jesus had only, just before he died, to exclaim, " I thirst," and to re- ceive, in answer to his complaint, a few drops of vinegar on a sponge, and he could then breathe out his spirit, amid the confessions of patriarchs, and prophets, and priests, and kings, each testifying, with a voice of wonder and of worship, that " all things," without a solitary exception, that " all things were now accomplished." But our text throws light on another doctrine, or fact which, if often pre- sented to your attention, is of so great [ importance as to deserve the being fre- quently stated. We are now about to re- fer to the power which Christ had over his life, a power which caused his death to differ altogether from that of an or- dinary man. We wish you to observe the surprising composedness which is indicated by the words on which we now discourse. They seem to repre- sent Christ, according to our foregoing statement, as actually examining all the records of prophecy, that he might determine whether there yet remained any thing to be done before the soul could be dismissed from the body. They give us the idea of a being who, in full possession of every faculty, is enfacred in investigating ancient docu- me°nts, rather than of one who, exhaust- ed by protracted sufierings, is on the point of dissolution. How wonderful that the recollection should be so clear! that the almost expiring man should be able, amid the throes of death, to fix on a single, inconsiderable prediction, to decide that there was no other, out of an immense assemblage, which had yet to be accomplished, and to take measures for its being accomplished before he breathed his last! What collectedness, what superiority to suf- fering, yea, what command over death ! For it is evident — and this is the most remarkable thing — that Jesus de- termined that he would live until the prediction were fulfilled, and that he would die so soon as it were. The Evangelist tells us, " When Jesus, therefore, had received the vinegar, he said, It is finished 5 and he bowed his head and gave up the ghost." He waited till the vinegar had been given him, till, that is, the only unac- complished prophecy had been ac- coinplished, and then immediately, as though it were quite optional with him at what moment he would die, "gave up the ghost." This is ama- zing; this is unlike death, though it was actually the separation of body and soul; for where is the necessity of nature 1 where the ebbing away of strength 1 where the gradual wearing out of the principle of life 1 Christ evidently died just when he chose to die, and only because he chose to die : he had the spirit in his own keeping, and could retain or dismiss it as he pleased. You find that Pilate and oth- ers wondered at finding him so soon dead ; he died sooner than a crucified person could have been expected to die: and herein too he had reference to prophecy, for had he lingered the ordinary or natural period, his legs would have been broken, as were those of the malefactors executed with him, whereas there was a typical prediction, in the paschal lamb, that not a bone of him should be broken. So that, with Christ, to die was strictly a voluntary act — " I lay down my life : no man taketh it from me, but I lay it down of myself; I have power to lay it down, and I have pow- er to take it again" — it was an act of which he could fix the precise moment, which he could hasten or delay at his own pleasure, which no pain, no dis- ease, no decay could eflect, but which was wrought, altogether and at once, by his will. Death was not with him THE THIRST OF CHRIST. 505 what it will be with one of us. We shall die through necessity, Avith no powei' over the soul, whether of retaining or dismissing; exhausted by sickness, or broken up by accident, unable to make the pulse beat one more or one less than shall be ordained by a Being who is immeasurably beyond our control. But wdiat resemblance is there between this and the death of Jesus Christ on the cross 1 Though dying what would be ordinarily a lingering death, — dy- ing, to use a common expression, by inches, and therefore certain to be, at the least, exhausted and spent — we find him, in the few moments prece- ding dissolution, with every pow'er in full play, the mind all in action for the accomplishing his mission, and keep- ing, as it Vv^ere, the vital principle under its orders, ready to be suspended so soon as prophecies were fulfilled. Call ye this death"? Yes, men and brethren, this was really death : he who hung upon the cross died as ac- tually as any one of us will die; for death is the separation of the soul from the body; and the soul of Christ wxnt into the separate state, wdiilst his body was consigned to the grave. But call ye this the death of a mere man 1 can ye account for the peculiarities of Christ's death, ex<;ept by supposing him the Lord of life and glory .1 Martyrs, ye died bravely, and beautifully; but ye died not thus. Saints of God, ye went wondrously through the last struggle ; but ye went not thus. Oh, it is a noble thing, that we can go to the scene of crucifixion, and there, in spite of all the ignominy and suffering, discover in the dying man the incarnate God. The Jew and the Greek may taunt us with the shame of the cross; we glory in that cross : at no moment of his course has the Deity shone more brightly through the humanity of the Bledia- tor: not when his voice was heard in the grave, and the buried returned to ■ the living, did he more conspicuously i show divine power over death, than in the releasing, when he would, his own soul from the body. Come with us and jgaze on this mysterious person dying, " the just for the unjust." Seems he to you to be dying as an ordinary maul Can ye find no diflerence between him and those crucified, the one on his right ■hand, and the other on his left? Nay, i in them you have all the evidence that life is being drained out drop by drop, and that they are sinking beneath a process of painful exhaustion. But in him there are no tokens of the being overmastered, enfeebled, or worn down. In that mangled and bleeding body, there seems, to all appearance, as much animation as though there had not been going on, for hours, an assault on the citadel of life. Let us watch his last moments, let us observe his last act. But those moments are over, whilst we thought them yet distant ; he has sud- denly expired, though an instant ago there was no sign of death. How is this'? how, but that he has indeed proved the truth of his assertion, '' No man taketh my life from me, but I lay it down of myself!" an assertion which could be true of no one who had not an actual lordship over life, who was not, in fact, his own source of life, who was not in fact the Author of life. Ho has retained his spirit whilst he chose ; he has dismissed that spirit when he would; and thus, though in the form of a creature, he has exercised the pre- rogative of the Creator. The cross, then, with all its shame, the act of dissolution, with all its fear- fulness, bears as strong attestation to the essential Deity of Christ, as the most amazing miracle performed, or the fullest prophecy accomplished. And we bow before a Being, as more than human, as nothing less than divine, who died by his own act, though nail- ed to a cross; by an efl'art of his own will, though beneath the hands of fierce executioners : we hail him, even in the midst of ignominy, as "the image of the invisible God," seeing that he could forbid the departure of the soul whilst there remained a prediction unfulfilled, ' and command it into paradise the mo- ment that he saw that all things were accomplished. Now they have not, we tliink, been either uninteresting or uniinporlant truths which we have thus derived from the fact that Christ complained of thirst on the cross, on purpose "that the Scripture might be fulfilled." But we have yet to fix your thoughts more particularly on Christ as an example, exhorting you to observe howcnQ:ross- ed he was with the work of redemp- tion, how intent, up to the lust mo- G-i 506 THE TUlKbX OF CHRIST. ment of life, on performing the will of the Father who sent him. You must not think that, because Jesus had such power over his own life as we have just now described— a power which made him inaccessible to death, except so far as he chose to give death per- mission — he did not suffer acutely as he hung upon the cross. It is true that crucifixion never could have killed him, and that he did not die of the torture and exhaustion thereby produced ; but nevertheless it is, on this very account, true, that his sufferings must have vast- ly exceeded those of the malefactors crucified with him. So far as the na- tural effects of crucifixion were con- cerned, he was not necessarily nearer dying when he died than Avhen first fastened to the tree. But what does this prove, except that, retaining from first to last all his sensibilities, he must, from first to last, have endured the same exquisite torments'? whereas, had he been dying, just as the thieves on either side of him were, he Avould gra- dually have become faint through loss of blood and excess of pain, and thus have been less and less sensitive to the pangs of dissolution. Thus, in keeping the vital principle in undiminished vigor up to the mo- ment of the departure of the soul, Christ did but keep undiminished the incon- ceivable anguish of being nailed to the cross : crucifixion, as it were, was mo- mentarily repeated, and the agony of each instant was the agony of the first. Yet even to this did the Mediator will- ingly submit : for had he allowed him- self the relief of exhaustion, his facul- ties would have been numbed, and he had full need of these, that he might finish in death what he had been en- o-ao-ed on in life. What an example did he thus set us, that we decline every indulgence which might possibly inca- pacitate us for doing God's work, and submit cheerfully to every inconveni- ence which may attend its perform- ance ! Oh, never were the Redeemer's love, and zeal, and patience so conspi- cuous as throughout those dark hours when he hung upon the tree. He might have died at once ; and we dare not say that even then our redemption would not have been complete. There would have been equally the shedding of precious blood, and equally perhaps the expiatory offering, had he sent his soul into the separate state the instant that his body had been nailed to the cross. But he would tarry in tribula- tion, that he might survey his vast un- dertaking, gather up the fragments, anticipate every possible objection, and bequeath the material of conviction to all who were not obstinately bent on infidelity. What hearts must ours be, that we can look so coldly on the suffererer — suffering '' for us men and for our sal- vation !" His last thoughts, as his ear- liest had been, were on our deliverance, on our welfare. Even the words which he uttered, " that the Scripture might be fulfilled," were as expressive of his mental as of his bodily feeling. Indeed he did thirst : " the zeal of thine house hath consumed me :" he was parched with longing for the glory of God and the safety of man. *' I thirst :" I thirst to see of the travail of my soul : I thirst for the effects of my anguish, the dis- comfiture of Satan, the vindication of my Father, the opening of the kingdom of heaven to all believers. Shall our last end be, in any mea- sure, like this % Would that it might ! Would that, when we come to die, we may thirst with the thirst of the Re- deemer's soul ! " Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled." "My soul thirsteth for thee," is an exclamation of the Psalmist, when declaring the ar- dency of his longings after God. And our Savior endured thirst, that our thirst might be quenched. His tongue clave to the roof of his mouth — ''my heart," saith he, " in the midst of my body, is even like melting wax" — that we, inhabitants naturally of "a dry and barren land," might have access to the river of life, Avhich, clear as crystal, pours itself through the paradise of God. Who does not thirst for these wa- ters 1 Ah, brethren, there is nothing required but that every one of us should be able, with perfect truth, to declare, " I thirst," and the Scripture shall be fulfilled in that man's drawing water out of the wells of salvation. For the invitations of the Bible pre- suppose nothing but a sense of want, and a wish for relief. " Ho ! every one that thirsteth" — there is the summons^, THE SECOND DELIVERY OF THE LORD S PRAYEK. 506 there the description. Oh, that we may now thirst with a thirst for pardon, a thirst for reconciliation, a thirstf for holiness. Then, when we come to die, j we shall thirst for the joys of immor- j tality — for the pleasures which are at God's right hand : we shall thirst, even j as Christ did, that the Scripture may j be fulfilled: and the Scripture shall be fulfilled : for, bowing the head and giving up the ghost, we shall be iu his presence with whom is "the foun- tain of life ;" and every promise that has cheered us here, shall be turned into performance to delight us for ever. SERMON IX. THE SECOND DELIVERY OF THE LORD'S PRAYER. ■• And it came to pass, thaf, as he was praying in a certain place, when he ceased, one of his disciples said unto him, Lord, teach us to pray, as John also taught his disciples.'' — Luke, 11 : 1. There were two occasions on which our blessed Savior delivered that form of prayer which is known by his name. The first was in the sermon on the Mount, about the time of Pentecost ; the second was in answer to the re- quest made him in the text, about the Feast of Tabernacles, many months af- terwards. You are not to confound the two occasions, as thouarh the Evange- lists St. Matthew and St. Luke had but given different accounts of one and the same delivery. The occasions were AvhoUy dissimilar, separated by a con- siderable interval of time : on the one, Christ gave the prayer of himself, with nothing to lead to it but his own wish to instruct; whereas, on the other, he was distinctly asked by one of his dis- ciples, who probably did but speak in the name of the rest. We cannot suppose that these disci- ples had forgotten the Lord's Prayer. Whether or not all now present had been present at the Sermon on the Mount, we may justly conclude that they were ail well acquainted with the comprehensive form which Christ had delivered for the use of the Church. Why, then, did they ask for another form of prayer 1 and what are Ave to learn from Christ's meeting the wish by simply repeating that before given 1 These are not mere curious questions; you will presently see that they in- volve points of great interest and im- portance. Without advancing any con- jectures, let us look at the Lord's Prayer as given in the Sermon on the Mount, and as here again given in an- swer to the request of the disciples : the comparison may furnish some clue which will guide us in our search. Now we have spoken of the prayer delivered on the two occasions, as though it had been altogether the same : this however is not strictly the case ; there are certain variations in the versions which should not be over- looked. Some of these, indeed, are very slight, requiring only to be men- tioned, not examined ; such as that, in the one, the word " debts" is used, in the other, "sins;" St. Luke says. Give us day by day;" St. Matthew, "Give us this day, our daily bread." Such differences are evidently but differ- ences in the mode of expression. There is, however, one remarkable variation. On the second occasion of 508 THE SECOND DELIVERY OF THE LORd's PRAYER. delivering liis prayer, our Lord altoge- ther omitted the doxology with which he had concluded it on the first. He quite left out, that is, the words, "For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen." Now there can be little doubt, that, in con- structing his form of prayer, Christ had respect to the religious usages of the Jews. It is said that a serious student of the Gospel, and one at the same time versed in Jewish antiqui- ties, may trace, at every step, a design- ed conformity to the rules and prac- tices of devotion which were at that time observed. Without attempting generally to prove this, it will be worth our Avhile to consider what was the Jewish custom as to the conclusion of their prayers, whether public or pri- vate. We find,* that in the solemn services of the Temple, when the priests had concluded a prayer, the people were wont to make this response ; "Blessed be the name of the glory of his king- dom for ever and ever." Public prayer — prayer, that is, in the Temple, fin- ished with a doxology very similar to that which concludes the Lord's Prayer. But this doxology was never used in more private prayer, prayer in a syna- gogue, or in a house. Observe, then : our Lord gives his prayer on the first occasion with the doxology, on the second, without it : what may we infer from this '{ Surely, that he wished his disciples to understand that the prayer Avas designed both for public use and for private. In the Sermon on the Mount the prayer had concluded with the doxol- ogy ; and the disciples, we may be- lieve, had thence gathered that the prayer was intended to be used in the Temple. But they still wanted a form for private devotion, and on this ac- count preferred the request which is contained in our text. Our Lord an- swers the request by giving them the same form, but with the omission of the doxology J thus teaching that his prayer was adapted to the closet as well as to the church. If regard be had to Jewish usages, nothing can seem less objectionable than this explanation of the insertion of the doxology in one Lightfoot, Talmudical Exercitations upon St. Matthew. place and its omission in another. The prayer was delivered twice, to prove that it was to serve for public use and for private. Christ showed that it was to be a public prayer by giving it with a doxology ; a private, by giving it without ; for a doxology was that which was then used in the Temple, but not in a house. And this further explains why our Lord did not add "Amen," in conclu- ding his prayer on the second occa- sion. It was usual amongst the Jews not to add the Amen to prayers which were only petitionary, but to reserve it for expressions of thanksgiving and benediction ; whereas, the doxology being omitted, the Lord's prayer, you observe, became purely petitionary. There is evidence of this in the Book of Psalms : the book is full of prayers, but the prayers do not end with Amen. If the Psalmist use the Amen, 'it is after such an exclamation as this : "Blessed be the Lord for evermore." You may trace just the same custom in the writings of the Apostles. Thus St. Paul asks the speaker with tongues, " How shall ho that occupieth the room of the unlearned say Amen, at thy giving of thanks 1" and it is gene- rally after some ascription of praise, or expression of benediction, that he adds an Amen : " The Creator, who is blessed for ever. Amen." " Now the God of peace be with you all. Amen." Now it is a fact of very, great inter- est, which thus appears "fairly esto- blished — namely, that the second de- livery of the Lord's prayer, as compa- red with the first, goes to the proving that the petitions in this prayer are equally adapted to private and to pub- lic devotion ; that we cannot find a more suitable or comprehensive form, whether for the gathering of " the great congregation," for domestic wor- ship, or for the retirement of our clo- set. Our Lord did not indeed mean to tie us down to the use of this prayer, as though we were never to use any other, or never to expand into larger supplication. But he may certainly be thought to have given this prayer as a perpetual, universal model ; and to have asserted its containing an ex- pression for every want and every de- sire Avhich may lawfully be made the subject of petition unto God. There THE SECOND DELIVERY OF THE LORD's PRAYER 509 ought to be no debate as to the suita- bleness of this prayer for all places and seasons, after you have remarked the peculiarities of its double delivery. Do you doubt whether it be a form well adapted to the public assembly! then observe that its petitions were first uttered by our Lord, with such a doxology appended as was never then used but at the solemn gatherings in the temple of God. When you have hereby convinced yourselves of its suitableness for public worship, will you hesitate as to its fitness for more private occasions'? for the devotional meetings of the family, or for your own secret communion with God ? Then you resemble the disciples, who, having heard the Sermon on the Mount, yet imagined, a need for a diflerent form of prayer in their religious re- tirements. But surely it should teach you, that, at one time as well as at another, the Lord's prayer should find its way from the heart to the lip, to know that our blessed Savior — omit- ting only the doxology, and thus con- secrating to the use of the closet what he had before consecrated to the use of the church — gave precisely the same form, in answer to the request of these disciples, "Lord, teach us to pray, as John also taught his disciples." But hitherto we have made no way in commenting on the text, except that w'e may have explained the request of the disciples — a request which has, at first, a stranare look, as thougrh Christ had not already delivered a form of prayer, or as though what he had de- livered were already forgotten. We | remove this strange look, by observing our Lord's answer, and inferring from it that what the disciples now solici- ted was a form of private prayer : what they had previously received passed with them as designed for public occa- sions; and the second delivery of the | same form, but with certain alterations, both shows us the want of the disci- ples, and teaches us how such want might best be supplied. We will now, however, endeavor to bring before you certain other and very interesting truths, which arc involved, more or less prominently, in the state- ments of the text. And, first, as to the employment of Christ when the disci- ples approach and prefer their request. There is nothing to show distinctly whether our blessed Redeemer had been engaged in private prayer, or had been praying with his followers. But we learn, from many statements of the Evangelists, that he was in the habit of retiring for purposes of private devo- tion : "He withdrew into the wilder- ness and prayed ;" he " went out into a mountain to pray, and continued all night in prayer ;" he was " alone pray- ing." And perhaps it agrees best with the expressions in our text, that we should suppose our Lord to have been engaged in solitary prayer: "As he was praying in a certain place." The disciples had probably been absent from him, as when they left him sitting on Jacob's well, whilst they went into the city to buy meat. On their return they behold him at prayer: they draw re- verently back; they would not intrude on him at so sacred a moment. But the thought occurs to them — " Oh, what a time for obtaining anew lesson in prayer ; let us seize on it — let us ask him to instruct us whilst, like Moses comino" down from the mount, his face yet shines with celestial communings." They watch the opportunity — you see how it is stated : " When he ceased, one of his disciples said unto him." They appear to have stood at a distance, that they might not interrupt the solemn exercise ; but, so soon as they saw the exercise concluded, they pressed ea- gerly forward to share in its benefit. But whether or not this were then the relative position of Christ and his disciples — whether he was alone pray- ing, or whether they were praying with him — we know, as we have already said, that our Lord was wont to engage in solitary prayer; and there is no atti- tude, in which this Divine person is presented to us, wherein he is more wonderful, more deserving to be con- sidered with all that is deepest, and most reverent, in attention. You ex- pect to find Christ working miracles — for you know him to be God in human form ; and you feci that he must give such credentials of his mission as shall suffice, if not to remove all unbelief, yet to leave it inexcusable. You even expect to find him enduring anguish — for you know him to have assumed hu- man nature, that he might be capable of suffering; and you thoroughly as- 510 THE SECOND DELIVERY OF THE LORd's PRAYER. sent to the fundamental truth, that "without shedding of blood is no re- mission." But you could hardly have expected to have found him spending whole nights in prayer. What has that pure, that spotless Being, in v/hom " dwelleth all the fulness of the God- head bodily," to do with importunate supplication, as though he were in dan- ger of offending his heavenly Father, or had to wring from a reluctant hand supplies of that grace, of which him- self is, after all, the everlasting foun- tain 1 There is a mysteriousness about Christ praying, which should almost warn us back, as it seems to have warn- ed the disciples. For we are not to suppose that our Redeemer's prayers were all similar to that which is record- ed in the seventeenth chapter of St. John's Gospel, and in which there is the calmness of an Intercessor who knows that he shall prevail, or who feels that he but asks what himself has right to bestow. St. Paul, in his Epis- tle to the Hebrews, speaks of him in language which obliges us to regard him as having wrestled in prayer, wrestled even as one of us may wres- tle, with much strain and anguish of mind. The Apostle there says of Christ: " Who, in the days of his flesh, when he had offered up prayers and suppli- cations, with strong crying and tears, unto him that was able to save him from death, and was heard in that he feared." There may be here a special reference to our Lord's agony in the garden, when, as you remember, he besought earnestly of the Father, that, if it were possible, the cup might pass from him. But we have no right to confine the Apostle's statement to this particular scene : we may rather conclude, that, when our blessed Savior spent whole nights in prayer, his supplications were mingled with tears, and that it was with the deep emotions of one, who had blessings to procure through importu- nity, that he addressed himself to his Father in heaven. You may wonder at this — you may ask how this could be ; and we can only answer, that, though the Redeem- er was both God and man — two natures having been indissolubly joined in his one Divine person — yet, as man, he seems to have had the same battles to fight, the same assistance to depend upon, as though he had not also been God, but, like one of ourselves, had had the devil for his enemy, and only the Holy Ghost for his comforter. There is frequently a mistake upon this, and one which practically takes away from Christ's example all its power and persuasiveness. Why was Christ able to resist the deviH Why was Christ able to keep himself " holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners V Because, many are ready to reply, he was God as well as man. But surely this must be an errone- ous reply. It supposes that when he was exposed to temptation, the Divine nature in his person came to the as- sistance of the human, upheld it, and made it triumphant. And how then could Christ be an example to us, who, being merely men, cannot fly from one nature in ourselves to another, from the weaker to the stronger, when at- tacked by certain enemies, or exposed to certain dangers'! The scriptural representation is just the opposite to this. It sets before us Christ as having been as truly a man, as truly left as a man to a man's duties, a man's trials, a man's helps, as though, at the same time, all the fulness of God- head had not dwelt in him bodily. It was not to the divine nature in his own person that he could have recourse when hard pressed by temptation : he had to lean, like one of ourselves, on the aids of the Holy Spirit, aids sought by prayer, and appropriated by faith. The divine nature in his person ap- pears to have had nothing to do with holding up the human, but only with the conferring infinite worth on its suf- ferings and actions: it did not give the patience to endure, though it gave the preciousness to the endurance ; it did not give the strength to obey, but the untold merit to the obedience. And, upon this representation, we can somewhat enter, though still but remotely, into the prayers of our bless- ed Redeemer. He was a man, with a man's infirmities, though not with a man's sinful propensities ; living, as a man, the life of faith ; fighting, as a man, the battle with principalities and powers ; and he had before him a task of immeasurable intenseness, which he could not contemplate, as a man, with- THE SECOND DELIVERY OF THE LORd's PRAYEK. 511 out a sense of awfulness, we had al- j most said of dread. In this his state I of fearful warfare and tremendous un- { dertaking, he had to have recourse to j those assistances which are promised I to ourselves, which we have to seek i for by prayer, and which even he, not- ; withstanding his oneness with the other \ persons in the Trinity, had to procure, 1 to preserve, and to employ, through \ the same processes as the meanest \ of his disciples. Hence, it may be, ! his midnight watchings j hence his ; ''strong crying and tears;" hence his I prolonged and reiterated supplications. I And however mysterious, or actu- ally incomprehensible, it may be, that ! a Being, as truly God as he was man, should, as man, have been as much thrown on a man's resources as though I he had not also been God, yet what a comfort is it that Christ was thus iden- tified with ourselves, that he went through our trials, met our dangers, and experienced our difficulties ! We could have had but little confidence in committing our prayers to a high priest who had never had to pray himself. But oh, how it should encourage us to wrestle in prayer, to be fervent and importunate in prayer, that it is just what our blessed Lord did before us ; and that having, as our Mediator, known continually the agony of sup- plication, he must, as our Advocate, be all the more disposed, in the lan- guage of the Psalmist, to put our tears into his bottle, and to gain audience for our cries. It might strike me with greater amazement to see Christ raise the dead. It might fill me with deeper awe, to behold Christ upon the cross. But it ministers most to my comfort, . to look at Christ upon his knees. Then 1 I most know him as my brother in all I but my sinfulness, myself in all but the c corruption which would have disabled him for being my deliverer. Oh, let it be with us as with the dis- ciples; let us gaze on the Redeemer as he is "praying in a certain place;" and we shall be more than ever en- couraged to the asking from him what- soever we can need. Then we have him in the attitude which should give confidence, let our want be what it may ; especially if it be a freer breath- ing of the soul — and this breathing is prayer — which we desire to obtain. Christ will sometimes seem so great, so far removed from ourselves, that the timid want courage to address him. Even suffering hardly appears to bring him down to our level; if he weep, it is over our sins that his tears fall, and not over his own ; if he is stricken, it is that by his stripes we may be heal- ed ; if he die, it is that we may live. But when he prays, he prays for him- self. Not but that he also prays for others, and even we, too, are required to do this. But he prays for himself, though he does not suffer for himself. He has wants of his own for which he asks a supply, dangers against which he seeks protection, difficulties in which he entreats guidance. Oh, who will now be afraid of going to him to be taught 1 Who will not feel, as he sees Jesus " praying in a certain place," that now is the precious mo- ment for casting ourselves before him, and exclaiming with the disciples, " Lord, teach us to pray, as John also taught his disciples." Now it is a very important use which has thus been made of the text, in that the approach of the disciples to the Savior, at the moment of his rising from prayer, serves to admonish us as to Christ's power of sympathy, " in that he himself hath suffered, being tempted ;" and to encourage us to go to him in the full assurance of his be- ing as well able to understand, as to satisfy, our wants. But there is still a very beautiful account to which to turn the fact, that it was immediately on his rising from his knees, that our Lord delivered, for the second time, his form of prayer to his disciples. There was, as we have already hinted, an evident appropriateness in the re- quest of the disciples, if you consi- der it relatively to the employment iu which Christ had just been engaged. It was not a request to be taught how to preach — that might have been the more suitable had Christ just delivered his sermon on the Mount. It was not a request to be enabled to work mira- cles — that might have more naturally followed, had Christ just been healing the sick or casting out devils. But it was a request for instruction in prayer, coming immediately on Christ's having been praying, as though the disciples felt that he must then have known 512 THE SiECOND DELIVERY OF THE LORD S PKAYER. most of the difliculties of prayer, and also of its privileges; and that, his soul having been engaged in high communion with God, his tongue might be e;cpected to clothe itself with the richest expressions of desire and the most potent words of entreaty. And you will all feel how natural, or rather, how just, was this thought of the disciples, that the best moment for a lesson from Christ in prayer, was when Christ himself had just finished praying. It is precisely the thought which we ourselves should entertain, and on which we should be ready to act, in regard of any eminent saint from whom we might wish instruction and assistance. If, feeling my want of some other form of prayer than that which I possess, I determined to ap- ply to a christian distinguished by his piety, and to ask him to compose for me a form, at what moment, if I might choose, would I prefer my request 1 At the moment of his rising from his knees. When, I should say to myself, is his mind so likely to be in a devo- tional attitude, Avhen may I so justly expect the frame and the feeling adapt- ed to the dictating pregnant and pre- vailing petitions, as when he is fresh from the footstool of God, and has not yet lost the unction which may be be- lieved to have been on him, as he com- muned with Heaven'? But, were I to address myself to him at this moment with my request, and were he, in reply, simply, but solemn- ly, to repeat to me the Lord's Prayer, what should I conclude"? ^Certainly that, in his judgment, and when more- over that judgment was best circum- stanced for deciding, no prayer could be composed so admirably adapted to the expression of my wants as this ; and that, having this, I required no other. It is a separate question whe- ther his decision would be right ; we now only urge, that, in no conceivable method, could he deliver a stronger testimony to the excellence of the Lord's Prayer. But this is exactly the kind of testi- mony which is furnished by the cir- cumstances related in our text. Christ, on rising from his knees, is asked by his disciples for a form of prayer adapted to seasons of private devo- tion. He does nothing but repeat the prayer v.diich he had delivered in his JSermon on the Mount. What an evi- . dence that no better could be furnish- ed! Fresh as he was from direct in- tercourse with his Father in heaven, the spirit warmed, if we may so speak, through devotional exercise, he could furnish no fuller, no more comprehen- sive expression of the wants and de- sires, which, as creatures, we may spread before our Creator, than the few and brief petitions which he had. combined on a previous occasion. There is nothing which gives me so exalted an idea of the worth and ex- cellence of the Lord's Prayer as this. In many ways, indeed, may this worth and excellence be demonstrated ; every new demonstration not only establish- ing the points in debate, but suggest- ing material for additional proof. And we owe much to commentaries on the Lord's Prayer by learned and pious men, who, expanding its several peti- tions, have shown that there is nothing which we caii lawfully desire, whether for this world or for the next, whether as inhabitants of earth or as candidates for heaven, which is not virtually con- tained in these few sentences. Other forms of prayer, so far as they are scriptural and sound, are but the Lord's Prayer, beaten out, its sylla- bles spread, as they may be, into vo- lumes. Indeed, there is no slight ana- logy between this prayer and the law. The law was given twice, even as this prayer was given twice. The law, meaning thereby the Ten Command- ments, is a summary of all things to be done; and this prayer, of all things to be desired. The law divides itself into duties v.'hich have respect to God and duties which have respect to man; and, similarly, the prayer contains pe- titions for God's honor, and then peti- tions for others and ourselves. And as the few precepts of the moral law, when expounded by our blessed Redeemer, grew — like the few loaves which, be- neath his creative touch, became the food of thousands — till there was a command for every action, yea, a rule for each word and each thought ; so has the prayer only to be drawn out by a spiritual apprehension, and there I is a breathing for every want, an cx- I pression for every desire, an ejacula- j tion for every emergence. THE SECOND DELIVERY OF THE LORd's PRAYER. 5i; But whilst all this maybe satisfacto- rily shown through lengthened and pa- tient inquiry, and whilst we may here- by reach conviction of such a fulness and such a comprehensiveness in the Lord's Prayer, that we ask every thing which we ought to ask in offering its petitions, the short, but equally sure, mode of establishing the fact, is to ob- serve how this prayer was the second time delivered. I am never so impress- ed with the beauty, the depth, the largeness, yea, the inexhaustibleness of this form, as when I hear it uttered by Christ in reply to the request of his disciples. If I ever feel wearied by repetitions of this prayer, or tempted to think that some variation from it would be an improvement, 1 can look at the circumstances of its second de- livery, and want no other commentary to convict me of error. It is not the first delivery which is so replete and reproachful in evidence. I receive in- deed the prayer wdth all docility, and all reverence, as it falls from the Savi- or's lips in his Sermon on the Mount. But he then delivered it as a form for public prayer, suited to numbers who { might not have made much progress I in religion: had he been afterwards] asked, he might have furnished a yet j intenser and more spiritual model, i for such as were of higher growth in piety. Besides, our Lord was then preaching; and the temperament, if we may use the expression, of the preacher, is not likely to be that which is most adapted to prayer. Without confounding the Redeemer whh. one of ourselves, we may, in a measure, just- ly reason from ourselves, when consi- dering what occupation is most conge- nial with devotional feeling. And, cer- tainly, the .attitude of an instructor does not commend itself as best suit- ed to the spirit of a suppliant. If I wanted tuition from a preacher in prayer, I should not wish it from him whilst he was preaching, not even though prayer might be the subject of his sermon. I would go to him in his closet rather than in his pulpit ; that, in the more subdued tone of mind, in the calmer, the more chas- i.ened and abased sentiments which nay be expected in a man prostrate before God, as compared with the same man haranguing his fellow-men, I might have better ground of hope for those contrite expressions, those j burdened cadences, those glowing as- I pirations, which befit the supplications ! of one fallen but redeemed. And it is j in no sense derogatory to the blessed Redeemer, to say, that if I had only his sermon-delivery of his prayer, it j would not, of itself, have convinced ! me that even he could not have given ' a more admirable form. I might have felt, and without violation to tKe awe and reverence due to such a being, that the moment wdien I should have best liked to hear him express himself in prayer, was not the moment of his up- braiding the hypocrites who stood " in the corners of the streets," or the hea- then who were noted for their " vain repetitions." But the prayer is given a second time, after considerable interval, given that it may serve for private devotion; given by Christ, not when addressing a multitude, but when just risen from his knees. Oh, I want nothing further to tell me, that the Lord's prayer is fuller than human need can exhaust, humbler than human worthlessness can sink, higher than human piety can soar. I ask no learned commentary, no la- bored exposition ; I have Christ's own testimony, given exactly when that tes- timony has the greatest possible pow- er, that nothing can be added to the prayer, nothing excogitated of loftier, intenser, more disinterested, and yet more self-seeking supplication, when I find that it was Avhen he had been "praying in a certain place," and as "he ceased" from his prayer, that he re-delivered the same form to his dis- ciples, and in answer to their entreaty, '"Lord, teach us to pray, as John also taught his disciples." Now you will all feel for yourselves that the practical point involved in this express and striking testimony of Christ to the fulness of his prayer, and its appropriateness to all persons, pla- ces, and seasons, is, that there must be something wrong in the man wdio finds the Lord's prayer insufficient or un- suitable. We are far from meaning that no other form of prayer should be used: the mind wiil often wish, will often need, to dwell on some one par- ticular desire ; and though, beyond question, that desire has expression in 65 514. THE SECOND DELIVERY OF THE LORD'S iniAVEK. the Lord's prayer, it is there so con- ' densed that he who would be importu- nate at the mercy-seat may be aided by a more expanded statement. But, at all events, enough has been adduced to prove that the Lorcl's prayer should enter largely both into public and private devotion, and that, though it ought not to supersede every other, yet ought no other to be a substitute for it.' And if we had but a minute to spend in prayer, what but the Lord's prayer should occupy that minute 1 better that we gather into that minute all that can be asked for time and for eternity, than that we give it to any less pregnant expression of the wants and desires of a Christian. But exam- ine yourselves in this matter ; compare your own sense of the sufficiency of the Lord's prayer with the remarkable attestation to that sufficiency which we have found given by our Savior himself: and if the prayer still seem to you inadequate ; if, in short, you feel as though you could not pray suf- ficiently, if, on any account, you were actually limited to the use of this prayer, then let the comparison set you on the searching deeply into the state of your hearts. For, surely, he has reason to fear that his desires should be checked rather than cher- ished, his wants denied rather than declared, who can find no expression for them in petitions which were not only dictated by Christ, but affirmed by him to comprehend whatsoever we might ask. But, commending this to your se- rious meditation, we would, in conclu- sion, dwell for a moment on the re- ference made by the disciples to the instruction in prayer which had been furnished by the Baptist. They ask, you observe, of Christ, that he would teach them to pray '' as John also taught his disciples." We have no means of ascertaining what form of prayer had been given by the Baptist. But it should be observed that the Jews' daily and common prayers, their ordinary and occasional, consisted chiefly of benedictions and doxologies ; they had, indeed, their petitionary or supplicatory prayers ; but these were few in number, and less copious. Now it seems reasonable to suppose that the Baptist taught a form of prayer differing from what the Jewish forma were ; he had to inculcate other doc- trines than those to which the people were used ; and it can hardly, there- fore, be doubted that he instructed them to pray in a manner more accor- dant with the new dispensation which he was commissioned to announce as "at hand." If, standing as he did be- tween the Law and the Gospel, John did not fully unfold the peculiar truths which Christ was afterwards to an- nounce, he nevertheless spake of things, the attaining which supposed that petitions Avere presented unto God — how then can we question that he taught his followers to pray for these things 1 Hence, the probability, at least, is, that in opposition to the custom of the Jews, whose prayers were mostly be- nedictory, John gave his disciples prayers which were chiefly petition- ary ; and that, Avhen our Lord was asked for instruction in prayer, similar to what had been afforded by the Bap- tist, the thing sought was some form of supplication, strictly and properly so called. And this agrees excellently with the answer of our Lord ; for by omitting the doxology with which he had concluded his prayer on the first delivery, he gave a form of devotion which was purely petitionary. But the disciples of Christ may not have referred to the particular charac- ter of the form of prayer given by John, but only to the fact, that the Baptist had furnished his followers with some form or another. And then there is something very inter- esting in their request, as grounding itself on what had been done by a teacher of far less authority and wis- dom than their own. It was as much as to say, even " the voice of one cry- ing in the wilderness" gave lessons in prayer ; and shall not the voice of Him of whom that stern voice was the har- binger, instruct us how to approach the Lord of the whole earth 1 The disciples of the forerunner had the pri- vilege of hearing from him what peti- tions should be offered — shall not the disciples of the Messiah enjoy a simi- lar privilege, though greater in pro- portion as he is greater than his mes- senger 1 There is then an argument, so to PECULIAaiTIES IN THE MIRACLE IN THE COASTS OF DECAPOLIS. 515 speak, from the instruction afforded by tlie inferior teacher, to that which may be expected, or hoped for, from the superior. And it is an argument of which we may legitimately make use, •whether as pledging God to give, or emboldening us to ask. We may right- ly reason that, if the disciples of the lower master have been favored with a lesson, the disciples of the higher will not be left uninstructed. We may right- ly reason, yea, we may present our- selves before our Savior with the rea- soning on our lips, that if, not only the disciples of the Baptist, but the disci- ples also of natural religion, have been taught to pray, the disciples of the Christ shall be yet more deeply and powerfully schooled. We have sat, as it were, at the feet of nature ; and in her every work and her every gesture, in her silences and in her utterances, she has bidden us wait upon God, and seek at his hands the supply of our wants. There is no- thing on which creation is more elo- quent, nothing more syllabled by the animate and the inanimate, by the mu- sic of its mighty movements, the rush of its forces, the lowing of its herds, than that all things hang on the uni- versal Parent, and that his ear is open to the universal petition. And if even nature do thus instruct us to pray, what may we not expect from the Lord our Redeemer % We will approach him, en- couraged by the tuition of a prophet, which is, at best, but his messenger or herald. We will say to him. Even the stars, the forests, and the mountains, the works of thine Almighty hands, bid us bow the knee, and supplicate the in- visible God. But we need a higher, a more spiritual, lesson. Lord, do Thou teach us to pray, seeing that even na- ture hath taught her disciples. SERMON X PECULIARITIES IN THE MIRACLE IN THE COASTS OF DECAPOLIS. And he took him aside from the multitude, and put his fingers into his cars, and he spit, and touched his tongue; and looking up to heaven, he sighed, and said unto him, Ephphatha, that is, Be open- ed."— Mark, 7 : 33, 34. We do not bring the succeeding verse into our text. You know that the words which we have read to j'ou re- late to the Lord our Redeemer ; and you need not be told, that, with him, to attempt was to accomplish a mira- cle. The subject of the present mira- cle was " one that was deaf and had an impediment in his speech;" and the result of our Lord's command, "Eph- phatha," was, that '' straightway his ears were opened, and the string of his tongue was loosed, and he spake plain." The miracles of our Lord were as diversified as are human wants and in- firmities : what sorrow was there for the soothing of which, what sickness for the healing of which, he did not employ his supernatural powers ? But the miracles were diversified, not only as to the things done, but as to the manner also in which they were done : sometimes, indeed for the most part, our Lord only spake the word or laid his hand on the suffering ; at other times, virtue went out from him, when 516 PECULIARITIES IN THE MIRACLE IN THE COASTS OF DECAPOLIS. touched by the afflicted; and in some few instances, amongst which is that recorded in the text, he employed out- ward signs, though not such as could have possessed any natural efficacy. We doubt not that many useful les- sons might be drawn from the different modes wherein Christ thus displayed his miraculous power. Considering mi- racles as parables, figurative exhibi- tions of the doctrines, as v/ell as forci- ble evidences of the divine origin, of Christianity, we may believe that they are not void of instruction in the minu- test of their circumstances, but furnish, in every particular, something on which the christian may meditate with advan- tage. Neither is this true only when you assign a parabolic character to the miracles of our Lord: setting aside the parabolic character, and observing merely how difference in mode was adapted to difference in circumstances, you will often find occasion to admire a display of wisdom and benevolence, to confess the narrative profitable, not only as adding another testimony to the divine power of Christ, but as showing how he sought to make that power sub- serve his great design of bringing sin- ners to faith in himself. We shall find this exemplified as we proceed with the examination of the narrative which we have taken as our subject of discourse. Our foregoing ob- servations will have prepared you for our not insisting on the display of di- vine power, but engaging you with the peculiarities which attended the display — peculiarities from which we shall en- deavor to extract evidences of Christ's goodness, and lessons for ourselves. With this purpose in view, let us go straightway to the scene presented by the Evangelist : let us follow the Re- deemer as he takes the deaf man aside from the multitude, and let us observe, with the attentiveness due to the ac- tions of One who did '' all things well," the course which he adopts in unstop- ping his ears and loosening his tongue. Now you must all be aware, that, in order to constitute a miracle, properly so called, there must be the absence of all instrumentality which is naturally adapted to produce the result. Sick- ness may be removed by the applica- tion of remedies ; but he who applies them is never regarded as workinsr a miracle ; he may, indeed, excite sur- prise by using means which shall be rapidly effectual in a case which had been thought desperate, but, whatever the tribute paid to his science and skill, the whole virtue is assumed to lie in the remedies employed; and no one imagines, when looking on the recov- . ered individual, that there has been any thing approaching to the exercise of supernatural power. But if the applied remedies were such as had evidently no tendency to the efi'ecting a cure, you would begin to suspect something of miraculous agency ; and yet further, if no remedies whatsoever were used, if the sickness departed at the mere bid- ding of the physician, you would be al- most sure that God had distinctly and unusually interfered — interfered so as to suspend the known laws which or- dinarily determine his workings. So long, perhaps, as any remedy appeared to be applied, you would be scrupulous as to admitting a miracle ; the remedy might, indeed, seem quite unsuited to the end for which it was employed, not possessing any known virtue for re- moving the disease ; but still it might possess properties not before ascer- tained ; and it is easier, and perhaps juster, to conclude the sickness over- come through some unsuspected ener- ' gy in the visible means, than through some invisible power altogether uncon- nected with those means. Hence it is a necessary criterion in the determining a miracle, that it be al- together independent on second causes, and therefore be performed without any natural instrument. And this is a crite- rion to which the miracles of our Lord may safely be brought : it was onlj'^ on one or two occasions that any thing external was employed, and even on these it could not be suspected that means were applied in which any vir- tue dwelt. The most remarkable of such occasions was that of the healing of the man who had been born blind : our Lord " spat upon the ground, and made clay of the spittle, and he anointed the eyes of the blind man with the clay, and said unto him. Go, wash in the pool of Siloam." Here there was a great deal of preparation: and had not the case been that of blindness from the birth, which was accounted incurable through any natural nems, it might have been PECULIAaiTlES IN THE MIRACLE IIS THE COASTS OF DECAPOLIS. 517 suspected that Christ had applied some powerful ointment, which, left for a time on the defective organ, and then washed off", would effect, as he had dis- covered, a radical cure. Even in this case, however, it never seems to have occurred to the Jews, that the thing which had been wrought might not have been actually supernatural : the whole process was accurately reported to the Pharisees ; but, though they were most eager to disprove or depreciate the cure, they never thought of ascrib- ing any virtue to the clay; it was mani- festly so void of all natural efficacy for the restoration of sight, that they treat- ed the cure as wrought by a word, with- out even the apparent employment of any second cause. Nevertheless, we may safely admit, that, had our Lord always acted in this manner, had he never performed a mi- racle without using some outw^ard in- strumentality, there might have been room for suspecting that a connection existed between the instrumentality and the result, and that, therefore, it was not necessarily beyond a doubt, that miracle had been actually wrought. There can, however, be no place for such a suspicion, inasmuch as the oc- casions were very rare on which our Lord did more than speak that word which was always '' with power." But we are bound to consider whether, in the few cases where external applica- tion was employed, there was not some reason for the seeming departure from a rule, which maybe said to have been prescribed by the very nature of mira- cle. If we find this reason iu any one case, it may, probably, be extended to all ; and we shall therefore confine our- selves to the instance presented by our subject of discourse. Here, as in the case of the blind man, there was an external appliance, though not equally calculated to suggest doubt as to the actualness of the miracle. Our Lord put his fingers into the man's ears, and then spat, and touched his tongue. It could hardly be imagined, by the most suspicious or incredulous of beings, that there was anj'' natural connection between what our Lord thus did, and the efTect which was pro- duced ; and that, consequently, Christ was nothing but a skilful physician, acquainted with remedies which had not yet been discovered by others of his race. If there were any virtue in the action used by Christ, it was mani- festly a virtue derived altogether from his superhuman character : allowing that there was power in his touch, it could only have been from the same reason that there was power in his word : the finger was '' the finger of God," even as the voice was that which had spoken all things into being. Yet it could not have been without any meaning, though it may have been without any eflicaciousness to the heal- ing of disease, that^Christ employed these outward signs : some purpose must have been subserved, forasmuch as we may be sure that there was ne- ver any thing useless or superfluous in the actions of our Lord. And the rea- son why Christ, thus touched the de- fective organs, before uttering the word which was to speak them into health, may be found, as is generally allowed, in the circumstances of the man on whom the miracle was about to be wrought. This man, you will observe, does not seem to have come to Christ of his own accord : it is ex- pressly stated, " And they bring unto him one that was deaf, and had an im- pediment in his speech, and they be- seech him to put his hand upon him." The whole was done by the relatives or friends of the afflicted individual : for any thing that appears to the con- trary, he himself may have had no knowledge of Jesus ; and, indeed, since his condition disqualified him for hold- ing any conversation, it is likely that he was in a great degree ignorant of the Prophet that had arisen in the land. But this very fact rendered it impor- tant that means should be taken to ac- quaint him thoroughly with the person that efl"ected his cure, not only in order to his own satisfaction, but to qualify him to bear witness in favor of Christ. And it is easily seen that what our Lord did was exactly adapted to such a pur- pose as this. He took him aside from the multitude, because his attention was likely to be distracted by the crowd, and Christ wished to fix it on himself as the author of his cure. Had he healed him immediately, and in the midst of the throng, the man might have had no distinct impression as to who had been his benefactor. There- 18 PECULIARITIES IN THE MIRACLE IN THE COASTS OF DECAPOLIS. fore was he separated from the throng ; and therefore, yet further, when se- parated, was he addl^essed by Christ through those senses which remained unimpaired: through sight and through touch. Christ could not speak to him, as was his ordinary wont, and demand from him a confession of faith in his power to heal ; the man was deaf, so that no question could be put to him, and he had an impediment in his speech which would have prevented his reply- ing. But he could see, and could feel what Christ did ; and therefore our Lord supplied the place of speech, by touching the tongue and putting his fingers into the ears — for this was vir- tually saying that he was about to act on those organs — and, by looking up_ to heaven, for this was informing the deaf man that the healing power must come from above. The whole action would seem to have been symbolical, and accurately suited to the circumstances of the case. Translate the action into words, and what have we but such sayings as these 1 " I have taken thee aside from the multitude, that thou mightest ob- serve and remember who it is to whom thou hast been brought. Thine or- gans are imperfect : here are members of thy body, which are useless to the ends for which they were given, and I am about to act on them with a power which shall supply all defects. Yet I would have thee know that this power is but a credential of my having come forth from God, and should produce in thee belief of my prophetical charac- ter. Behold, therefore : I lift my eyes unto heaven, whilst I utter the word Avhich shall give thee hearing and speech." Such, we say, was virtually the ad- dress of our Lord to the man on whom he was about to operate with superna- tural power ; not an address in lan- guage, which was precluded by the peculiarities of the case, but in signifi- cative, symbolical action, which is of- ten to the full as expressive as words. And, therefore, it was not withovit a great design and an important meaning that our Lord departed from his ordina- ry rule, and ran, as it might have seem- ed, the risk of bringing the miracle into question, by the privacy in which he wrought it and the external agency of which he made use. How easily might it have been said that he took the man aside from the multitude, be- cause what he Avas about to do would not bear being inspected, but involved some deception which could succeed oiily in a corner. And if suspicion had been excited by his thus requiring a retired place for the performance of the cure, how might that suspicion have been confirmed, when the man came to tell in what way he had been healed 1 " See," the people might have said, '' there was no miracle at all ; he applied certain remedies, and he would not suffer us to be near, lest we should discover his secret." But Christ could venture to brave all this risk : his miraculous power was too well established to be treated as a trick. Some there were who blasphemously ascribed it to Satan j but none, as it would seem, had the hardihood to de- ny its existence. Yet even the appear- ance of place for suspicion would not have been given, without sufficient cause, by one who was anxious to leave no possible excuse for the doubt- ing whether or not he were the pro- mised Messiah. And the sufficient cause is found in the circumstances of the case. It did not content the Redeemer to heal bodily infirmities: he sought to reach the inward man through what he did for the outward. If he gave the power of hearing and of speaking, he longed that the unstopped ear might hearken to the Gospel, and the loosened tongue be employed on the high praises of God. But, in order to such ends, it was indispensable that the man should know Jesus as his be- nefactor, and be persuaded that the power, exerted on his behalf, was wholly from above. But how shall he be instructed in such particulars'? He is shut up in that desolation and lone- liness, which a closed ear and a fast- ened tongue necessarily produce, and is not accessible through the avenues by which information is commonly conveyed. I will speak to him, the Redeemer seems to say, through the senses which have been spared to him : sight and touch shall be instrumental to the carrying of truth into his yet darkened soul. blessed Savior, how great was thy condescension, how un- wearied thine endeavor to do good to PECULIARITIES IN THE MIRACLE IN THE COASTS OF DECArOLIS. 519 sinners ! As when thou wouldest teach thy disciples humility, thou didst set a little child in the midst of them ; and when thou wouldest warn them of the peril,of unfruitfulness, thou didst cause the blighted fig-tree to stand in their path — so now didst thou graciously in- struct by significative action ; and I see nothing but the merciful, the compas- sionate, the patient Redeemer, bent on doing good, on instructing and blessing the unworthiest, when I see our Lord taking the deaf man aside from the multitude, and putting his fingers in- to his ears, and touching his tongue, and looking up to heaven. But we have probably said enough in explanation of our Lord's having apparently made use of external in- strumentality in effecting the miracle which is under review. We now wish to lead you to a wholly different topic : we would have it observed whether the possession of miraculous power did not operate upon Christ in a manner unlike that in which it would, most probably, operate on ourselves. We will not exam- ine whether, if any one of us were gift- ed with the ability of doing marvellous things, he would not be likely to covet occasions of display, to delight in op- portunities of manifesting the energy, when it would excite most amazement, and be hailed with the plaudits of a thousand spectators. Certainly, it were hardly to exaggerate that corruption which adheres to the best of the chil- dren of men, to say that the tempta- tion would be found very strong of ex- erting miraculous power in an ostenta- tious mode, employing it to purposes which might astonish by their strange- ness, and before multitudes whose applauses might be thereby secured. And, just as certainly, there can be nothing further removed from osten- tation, than our Lord's use of those wonder-working powers with which he was endowed. His miracles were al- ways remarkable for simplicity, for the absence of every appearance of pomp- ous exhibition: he never wrouglit a marvel but -when there was good to be done ; and, in his hands, superhu- man might was manifestly consecrated to the benefiting others, and not to the magnifying himself. But let us adn)it that miraculous power might be possessed by one of ourselves, and that, along with it, there might be such measure of grace as would prevent any thing of pride or ostentation in its use. We may still find something to distinguish this man of superhuman energy from the Lord Jesus Christ. In order to this, let us ask any one of you, whe- ther the inability to relieve misery be not almost as distressing as that mi- sery itself? If I found one of my fel- low-creatures dying from want, what wretchedness should I endure if I were absolutely destitute of all power of procuring him food ! Whereas, on the other hand, with what unmingled glad- ness should I hasten to his dwelling, if I carried with me the means of supply- ing his necessities, if I had only to open the door, and plenty would flow into the dreary abode ! I do not think that I could be sad at such a moment. My own cares might be many, ray own grievances heavy ; but that I could communicate happiness, would for the time make me happy ; and the eye would be brrght, and the voice would be joyous, as I said to the sufferer, '' Be of good cheer." The like may especially be affirmed in regard of any case of sickness. How melancholj'- is it to stand over the bed of one writhing in pain, and to feel that the best which the best affection can do, is to weep and to pray ; so ut- terly beyond all known remedies or assuagements is the malady whose vic- tim is before us ! for the power of working a miracle ! With what alacri- ty, what exultation, would any one of us command the disease to depart, if there were such energy in his word that it could suspend nature's laws. I am sure that there is not one of you, who, if he possessed the power, and heard of a fellow-creature in ter- rible anguish, would not rush to the side of the sufferer, eager to employ the power on his behalf, and enraptu- red with the thought of being able to relieve. Or, if the case were not one of acute pain, but only of defect in some bodily organ, with what pure, what unmixed satisfaction, should we exert ourselves on supplying what na- ture had denied. There is something wonderfully in- teresting, but, at the same time, dis- tressing, in the visiting the asylums 520 PECULIARITIES IN THE MIRACLE IN THE COASTS OF DECArOLIS. which have been reared for the recep- tion of the blind or the dumb. It is marvellous to observe what mental and moral progress may be made in spite of the deficiency ; how the senses, which are possessed, may be available to the very offices of those Avhich are wanting, so that the blind child shall read the Bible with its fingers, and the dumb communicate in writing all that passes in its spirit. We do not hesitate to call it the finest exercise of a power, which is only just short of supernatu- ral, that, when the eye refuses to col- lect the rays from the material crea- tion, the hand can be instructed to ga- ther in all the beauty and magnificence of that spiritual landscape which God hath developed in the pages of his word ; and that upon the soul, which seemed devoted to everlasting mid- night, because not accessible through the medium of speech, there is poured, through the eye, all that mighty illu- mination which hath flashed, in these last days, from " the Father of lights." But, with every confession of the wonder-fulness and beauty of the spec- tacle presented by an asylum whether for the blind or the dumb, it must be admitted that there is something dis- tressing in the sight of numbers who never looked on the glory of the hea- vens, or never drank in the melody of speech. Which of you, then, would not feel himself a happy man, if suddenly invested with the power of bidding the blind behold the human face, and the dumb hear and use the human voice ] We should all perhaps be rea- dy to charge the possessor of such a power with something worse than sto- icism, with a hardness of heart which made it strange that God should have endowed him with so signal a gift, if he did not manifest the greatest alacri- ty in bestowing sight on the darkened eye-ball, and unchaining the speech- less tongue ; or if, when exercising his power, he did not show that to exer- cise it was a source of the intensest delight. And yet, my brethren, it does not appear — at least, not always — to have been with a feeling of pleasure that our blessed Lord relieved the woes to which flesh is heir. Oh, it is a strange contrast between the scene presented by^our text and what proba- bly would be the scene, if any amongst ourselves had the power of healing the deaf and the dumb. It shall be to one of you that this poor man is brought by anxious and supplicating friends. One of you shall be reputed able to unstop his ears and loosen his tongue ; and therefore shall they, who are eager for his cure, come to you imploringly. It is no false rumor 5 you have the power ; you are ready to exercise it. I see you rejoice in the opportunity ; you can hardly speak the healing word for gladness at being able to confer so great a boon. Yes j this is natural, this would almost seein unavoidable ; and yet, oh wonderful, it was not thus that our Redeemer did good. He manifest- ed no feeling of pleasure. On the con- trary, you might have thought it a pain to him to relieve misery; for the narrative tells us, that, at the instant of giving utterance to the omnipo- tent word, he showed signs as of a burdened and disquieted spirit : " He sighed" — not, he smiled; not, he re- joiced — but " He sighed, and saith un- to him, Ephphatha, that is, Be opened." Now we really do not know a more affecting testimony to the fact, that our Lord was "a man of sorrow, and acquainted with grief," than is thus furnished by his sighing at the moment of working a benevolent miracle. If ever he experienced gladness of spirit, you would think that it must have been when communicating happiness — yet even then '' He sighed." He sighed in the act of blessing, as though the boon were wrung from him, and he would rather have denied it. Neither is this a solitary instance of Christ's mani- festation of grief when engaged in giv- ing pleasure. We have often had occa- sion to point out to you that the tears, which he wept at the grave of Laza- rus, were not tears for the dead. There is no necessity, in order to the esta- blishing the comforting truth of Christ's perfect humanity, and of his sympathy with our griefs, that we should suppose him weeping at the grave of his friend, as any one of us might weep over a kinsman or child. Indeed, there is no argument for Christ's fellow-feeling with the bereaved, in the tears of which the bereaved so often make mention ; for there is not one of us who could bewail the dead, if he were under the precise circumstances of Christ ; and rECULIARITIES IN THE MIRACLE IN THE COASTS OF DECAPOLIS. 521 therefore the Mediator's tears can be no evidence of that which, blessed be his name, is incontestably established from other proofs, his thorough sym- pathy with the mourning. Send any one of you to the grave where a dear friend lies buried — send him with the power, and for the purpose, of reani- mating that friend — and he could not weep as he went ; at least, if he wept, they would be tears of joy which he shed; for pleasure, like pain, can force drops from eyes which have been dark- ened by sin. But the tears of Christ were not tears of joy ; for we read not only that he wept, but that "He groaned in the spirit, and was trou- bled;" and that "again groaning in himself, he came to the grave." Hence there is no parrying the conclusion, that our blessed Savior was unhappy at the very moment when you would most have expected him to be happy, because on the point of making others happy; whilst all our foregoing state- ments, as to the pleasure which would be felt by any one of ourselves in the exercise of supernatural power, are only the more forcible, if the occasion of that exercise might bear any re- semblance to the raising of Lazarus. It is, therefore, no undue inference from the circumstance of Christ's sigh- ing at the instant of working the mira- cle before us, when we take it in evi- dence of a depression of spirit which would not give way before even that most happy-making thing, the making others happy. And again must we state that of all the incidental proofs — proofs not the less conclusive because easily overlooked — of our Lord's hav- ing been " a man of sorrows and ac- quainted with grief," there is, perhaps, none of a more touching or plaintive character than is thus furnished by our text. Undoubtedly we vastly under- rate the sufferings of the Savior, when we confine them to scenes where per- secution was open, and anguish appa- rent. Just because there is little said of what Jesus endured until we reach the dread things of Gethsemane and Calvary, it were strange, it were sin ful, to conclude that he was not heavi- ly oppressed through the whole of his life. When an apostle bids us " con- sider him that endured such contra- diction of sinners against himself" — thus making " the contradiction of sinners," which was not the thing of a moment, but of his every day, from first to last, the description of his en- durances — hej[may be said to assert that suffering was his unmingled por- tion, as though, with one of old, his own illustrious type, he might patheti- cally have said, " My tears have been my meat day and night." And we may not question that such was his portion. He was a sacrifice from the cradle to the grave ; every instant, be- cause an instant of humiliation and en- durance added something to the mys- terious and mighty oblation. How could it have been otherwise 1 for hav- ing come " unto his own," and being rejected by " his own," living in the midst of " a wicked and adulterous generation," which he vainly strove to save from destruction, there must con- tinually have been a pressure on his innocent spirit, a pressure all the more intense, because not betrayed by any outward sign. The expression " acquainted with grief" is wonderfully touching, and perhaps singularly accurate. Grief was, as it were, his bosom friend ; it had made way into his breast, and there set up its home. His was not an occasional meeting with grief; it was acquaintance, a deep, dark, bitter fa- miliarity. Oh, when you call Christ's afflictions to mind, afflictions endured "for us men and for our salvation," then think not only of the garden and the cross ; consider him as having been incessantly, as well as intensely, disquieted — momentarily on the cross, whence divine justice sought the pe- nalties which ourselves had deserved. And if you want evidence of this con- tinuousness of sorrow, the inconsider- able incident — inconsiderable only in that you might read it a hundred times and hardly pause to observe it — the inconsiderable incident mentioned in our text might suffice as a proof. What so gratifying a thing as the being able to do good 1 when can a good man feel so happy as in commu- nicating happiness? If Christ were not gladdened in making others glad, when could he have been joyfull And, nevertheless, he was not tiien gladdened; it was then that "he sigh- ed." He had gone aside from the 6(i 522 PECULIARITIES IN THE MIRACLE IN TUE COASTS OF DECArOLIS. multitude, so that there was, perhaps, no one to observe him. His only companion was deaf, so that though he might have been seen to weep, he could not be heard to sigh. There- fore was the sigh quite, so to speak, between himself and his Father in hea- ven. It was as though he had taken advantage of the being alone and un- noticed, to gain a moment's vent for that climbing sorrow which he was not willing to display before disciples who loved him. And I seem to need no- thing more to tell me how continually that heart was wrung, into which sin, which makes all our anguish, never had penetrated, than the simple recital that, before our blessed Savior uttered the word which was to unstop the ear and loosen the tongue, " he sighed ;" " looking up to heaven, he sighed, and saith unto him, Ephphatha, that is. Be opened." But wherefore did Christ sigh'? was it only in evidence of the general de- pression of a spirit, wearied and over- wrought by contact with wickedness \ or came the sigh from a consciousness that the individual before him would be injured, rather than benefited, by the miracle about to be wrought % We cannot, of course, speak with any certainty in reply to these questions, forasmuch as the sacred historian gives no account of the feelings which then struggled in the mind of our Lord. Yet there are sundry interpre- tations which we may put upon the isigh ; and if we cannot determine the true, we may, perhaps, draw from each some material of instruction. We may be sure, in the first place, as to what did not cause the sigh ; it argued no distrust of his heavenly Fa- ther, though it followed immediately on his looking up to his abode. The looking up to heaven was rather to di- rect the deaf man's attention to the source of healing power, than to ob- tain a supply of that power. There was the same lifting up of the eyes on the occasion of the raising of Lazarus; and then Christ stated the reason of this public appeal to the Father. " And Jesus lifted up his eyes, and said, Father, I thank thee that thou hast heard me. And I knew that thou hearest me always: but because of the people which stand by, I said it, that they may believe that thou hast sent me." He was always sure, you ob serve, of the ability to work a mira- cle ; but on certain occasions he saw fit to preface the working by an appeal to God, in order to impress on specta- tors that his power was from above, and not, as had been blasphemously said, from beneath. Hence, the sigh could have had no such connection with the looking up to heaven, as might argue mistrust of the Father whose will he had come down to accomplish. But, nevertheless, we may readily understand how, on the instant of working a miracle, a glance towards heaven might cause Christ to sigh. Wherefore had he descended from that bright abode if not to achieve its being opened to the lost race of man 1 And wherefore did he work mi- racles, if not to fix attention on himself as the promised seed of the woman, who, through obedience and death, was to reinstate our lineage in the paradise from which they had been exiled for sin 1 There was a sufficiency in the satisfaction which he was about to make, to remove the curse from every human being, and to place all the chil- dren of Adam in a more glorious posi- tion than their common parent had for- feited. But he knew too well that, in regard of multitudes, his endurances would be fruitless, fruitless, at least, in the sense of obtaining their salvation, though they cannot be in that of vin- dicating the attributes of God, and leaving the impenitent self-condemned at the judgment. Therefore, it may be, did Christ sigh ; and that, too, immediately after look- ing up to heaven. I can read the sigh; it is full of most pathetic speech. " Yon- der," the Redeemer seems to say, "is the home of my Father, of the cheru- bim and the seraphim. I would fain conduct to that home the race which I have made one with Myself, by so as- suming their nature as to join it with the divine. I am about to work another miracle — to make, that is, another ef- fort to induce the rebellious to take Me as their leader to yon glorious domain. But it will be fruitless; I foresee, but too certainly, that I shall still be ' de- spised and rejected of men.' " Then who can wonder that a sigh was thus in- terposed between the looking up to hea- PECULIARITIES IN THE MIRACLE IN THE COASTS OF DECAPOLIS. 523 ven and the uttering the healing word] The eye of the Redeemer saw further than our own. It pierced the vault which bounds our vision, and beheld the radiant thrones which his agony- would purchase for the children of men. And that men — men whom he loved with a love of which that agony alone gives the measure — should refuse these thrones, and thereby not only put from them happiness, but incur wretched- ness without limit or end — must not this have been always a crushing thing to the Savior 1 and more especially when, by glancing at the glories which might have been theirs, he had height- ened his thought of their madness and misery 1 I am sure that were we striv- ing to prevail on some wretched being to enter an asylum where he would not only be sheltered from imminent dan- ger, but surrounded with all the mate- rial of happiness, a look at that asylum, with its securities and comforts, would cause us to feel sorer than ever at heart, as we turned to make one more en- deavor, likely to be useless as every preceding, to overcome the obduracy which must end in destruction. There- fore ought we readily to understand why the Redeemer, bent only on rais- ing to glory a race, of which he fore- saw that myriads would voluntarily sink down to fire and shame, gave to- ken of a distressed and disquieted spi- rit, between looking towards heaven and working a miracle — as though the look had almost made him reluctant for the work — " looking up to heaven, he sighed, and saith unto him, Ephphatha, that is, Be opened." But there may have been reasons, personal to the individual about to be healed, which caused Christ to preface the miracle with a sigh. We have spo- ken of the delight which it would yield to a benevolent man, if he could go in- to an asylum for the blitjd or the deaf, and communicate by a word the senses which were wanting in the objects around him. But did we not somewhat exaggerate, when we supposed that the pleasure would be quite unalloyed 1 It could hardly fail but that a suspicion would cross the mind of the individual, who had the power of giving sight to the blind, and hearing to the deaf, that, but too probably, there was some one in the group to whom it would be no blessing to obtain the deficient sense ; who, if made to see, would but enslave himself to ''the lust of the eye," or who, if enabled to hear and to speak, would but listen to evil, and employ his tongue in dishonorinjr his God. We know, too well, how largely does our every sense give inlet to temptation ; so that, possibly, the want of one of these senses might often cause the soul to be assaulted with less vehemence from without. And it is easy to believe that a blind person, to whom sight were suddenly and miraculously given, ^xould find an inundation, as it were, of new and strange desires, rushing on him through those magic organs which, like Satan on the mountain, show \is "all the kingdoms of the world and their glory;" and that a deaf person, who should obtain instantaneously the hearing ear, and the speaking tongue, would be so bewildered by the new pro- cess of receiving and communicating thought, and so enabled to sin in new ways, that, if there were question only of the advantageousness of his condi- tion in regard of another world, he had better have been confined to the scanty intelligence which may be communi- cated in spite of defectiveness of or- gans, than have acquired abilities which may be so perilously abused. Hence, it might not be wholly with- out some sentiment of apprehension and fear, that the benevolent man would pronounce the word which was to give sight to the blind, or speech to the dumb. It may be that, notwithstanding the flow of pleasurable feelings which would seem necessarily to attend the putting forth a power communicative of such benefit and blessing, he would sigh, with the Ephphatha on his lips, as the thought occurred, that the senses, which he was about to impart, might only prove avenues of evil, and be des- ecrated to the service of sin. But with Christ, who could read the human heart, and foresee the human life, there could not have been doubtfulness as to the moral issue of the miracle. He must have unerringly known whether the in- dividual before him would be healed in soul as well as body; whether the won- der, of which he was the subject, would lead to faith in the prophet by whom it was wrouglit; whether the organs, which he was about to obtain, would 524 PECULIARITIES IN THE MIRACLE IN THE COASTS OF DECAPOLIS. be employed on the glorifying, or on the dishonoring, God. And perhaps he foreknew that the man, when healed, would be found amongst his persecu- tors, and oh, if so, how could he but sigh, sigh deeply and painfully, as he considered what sin had made the hu- man heart, so hard that even miracles would not soften it, nor produce in it love towards a heavenly benefactor 1 Indeed, indeed, if there were such an exhibition of insensibility and ingrati- tude present to his mind, well might he sigh. Ah, men and brethren, if there can be sighs in heaven, he must still sigh as he '' poureth his benefits" on every one amongst us, benefits which are too often received as mere things of course, benefits which, if not miracu- lous, are only not so because of their frequency, and which, alas, fail to bind us more devotedly to his service. Or, if the Redeemer did not know that the man, whom he was about to heal, would join himself to his ene- mies ; if, on the contrary, he knew that he would be of the few who ac- knowledged him as the Messiah; still he was too well aware, we may believe, of the dangerousness of the faculties which his word would bestow, to be- stow them without a sigh. It was lan- guage, of which the naan was hence- forward to be master, the power of speaking and of being spoken with. And Christ could not give this but with a sigh. He knew that the power of speaking was especially the power of sinning ; that no member was so diffi- cult of control, and so liable to offend, as the tongue. There are many state- ments in the Bible, in regard to the importance of speech, the difficulty of regulating our words, and the danger of sinning with our lips. But I know of nothing more emphatic and expres- sive than this sigh of our Lord, when considered as indicating that what he bestowed, he bestowed with apprehen- sion. As with the tears which Christ wept over Jerusalem, there is more in this sigh than in lengthened and heart- touching speech. The tongue unloos- ed with a sigh, the sigh of him who had no sin to sigh for, is the most affecting of all testimonies that the tongue cannot be used without peril. It might do more than whole sermons on the guilt of idle words, to make us watchful in keeping " the door of our lips," were we only to bear in mind this sigh of the Redeemer. Oh, when tempted to the light jest, and, yet more, to the profane allusion — when incli- ned to employ on what is frivolous, or malicious, or impure, that high fa- culty which God bestowed that we might make creation vocal with his praise ; then, if you. cannot recollect any elaborate arguments which esta- blish the special sinfulness of sins of the tongue, at least you might recall the simple narrative before us ; and it might tend to make and keep you fear- ful of misusing and desecrating the power of speech, to remember that your Savior could not impart this power, without betokening his con- sciousness how perilous it Avas : ^' He sighed," before he could bring him- self to say to the deaf and dumb man, ''Ephphatha, that is, Be opened." But we alluded, in an early part of our discourse, to the paraTjolic charac- ter which seems attached to the mira- cles of our Lord ; and, inclining to the belief that there is no miracle recorded in the New Testament, which does not serve to illustrate certain truths in the christian dispensation, we are reluctant to leave the narrative before us with- out glancing at its typical instruction. And here we need hardly refer to the general fact, that the sicknesses of the soul are analogous to those of the bo- dy; or that man, considered as an im- mortal being, requires healing process- es, similar to those required by the lame, the deaf, and the blind. It can scarcely be called a figure of speech, when we describe the soul of a man, not yet renewed by the Spirit of God, as deficient in the powers of hearing, and seeing, and speaking. For the soul must be judged relatively to that higher world of which she was origi- nally the citiz^en, and her possession of faculties must Tdb determined by test- ing her ability for the employments and enjoyments of the scene for which she was designed. But who can dis- guise from himself, that, in spiritual things, he is by nature as deficient in senses and organs, as he would be in earthly, if unable to see, to walk, to hear, to- speak, to taste 1 The unre- newed soul has no eye for the glories of heaven, no feet for running the way PECULIARITIES IN THE MIRACLE IN THE COASTS OF DECAPOLIS. 525 of God's commandments, no ear for the sweet music of the Gospel, no voice for the praises of Christ, no relish for that bread which is " for the life of the world." And forasmuch as it is only through Christ, in his office of Mediator, that those influences are communicated which repair the de- cayed, or impart the destroyed facul- ties, we may justly regard our bless- ed Savior, whilst working miracles on the body, as both teaching what was needful for the soul, and representing himself as its appointed physician. Hence, in Christ's unstopping the ears, and loosening the tongue, of the man that was brought to him as he passed through Decapolis, every one may find the outlines of a symbolical lesson, as to the necessity for a divine operation on our spiritual organs, ere the tidings of redemption can penetrate the soul, and the utterances of thanksgiving be heard in return. But more may have been represent- ed than this general fact. The man does not seem to have come of him- self; and there is no evidence what- soever that he had faith in Christ's power to heal. Indeed, as we have endeavored to show you, Christ took pains to fix attention on himself as the worker of the miracle, as though to provide for faith following, if it did not precede the cure. The friends or relatives of the deaf and dumb man had faith in our Lord ; this faith moved them to solicit a miracle, and was re- compensed by its being wrought. And there is great encouragement in eve- ry such record of blessings procured throuo-h the intercession of friends. When I read of parents or relations leading the dumb to Jesus, and solicit- ing, in his name, what he could not so- licit for himself, I gain assurance that parents or relations may bring chil- dren to the regenerating waters of bap- tism, and entreat on their behalf those gifts of the Spirit, which they are yet too young to entreat for themselves. I thank God for the record of miracles, in whose subjects there was faith ; I thank him still more for the record, when the faith was not found in the party that was healed, but in the party who conducted the diseased person to Christ. Oh, we may do much for those whom we love, whilst they arc unable, or even whilst unwilling, to do any thing for themselves. We may bring them to Christ ; we may entreat Christ to heal them ; and such narra- tives as that which has been under re- view, warrant the hope, yea, even the expectation, that, if we ask in faith, the Redeemer will put forth his mira- culous power. But there is yet another significative fact which ought not to be overlooked. Our Lord led the afiiicted man aside from the multitude : did he not there- by tell them, who may be visited with any desire for spiritual cure, that it is not in the throng and bustle of the world that they may expect the renew- al of their senses and powers 1 that they should separate themselves from distracting associations, seeing that it is in privacy and retirement that he is ordinarily pleased to work a moral mi- racle, and reproduce in the soul the lost image of God"? He can heal you any where : he can unstop the ear and loosen the tongue whilst you are in the hurry of the crowd, or when you have sought the secrecy of the closet. But he loves the solitude : if you wish him to work a miracle, prove that you wish it by going aside from the multitude, detaching yourselves from a world that " lieth in wickedness," breakfing away from the company of his enemies — and then may you hope that he will meet you, and say unto you, with as much of power as of graciousness, "Ephphatha, that is. Be opened." Will he say it with a sigh "? Indeed, so great is the corruption of our na- ture, and so vast the disorganization around us, that the portion of a renew- ed man has often to be described in the words of St. Paul : " Without were fightings, within were fears." To con- vert, is to consign to a hard conflict with the world, the flesh, and the de- vil. And Christ might sigh in speaking the word which gives spiritual health, remembering that he quickens men to the painful and perilous task of crucify- ing themselves, of oflcring themselves " a living sacrifice " unto God. But if " heaviness may endure for a night," "joy cometh in the morning." The victory is sure with Christ for a leader, though the contest be severe. And if it be with a sigh that he pro- 526 THE LATTER RAIN. nounces the Ephphatha now — with a sigh, because to be a believer is to be persecuted and afflicted, at war with the world, at war with one's self — it shall be with a smile that he pronoun- ces the Ephphatha hereafter, saying to the everlasting doors, " Be ye opened," that my people may enter my kingdom : " There the wicked cease from trou- bling, and there the weary be at rest." SERMON XI. THE LATTER RAIN. "Ask ye of the Lord rain in the time of the latter rain : so the Lord shall make bright clouds, and give them showers of rain, to every one grass in the field." — Zechariah, 10 : 1. It is not necessary that we inquire •whether, as originally delivered, these words included spiritual blessings or were limited to temporal. The former are so frequently illustrated or shadow- ed out in Scripture by the latter, that we may safely treat the passage as a direction and a promise which have to do generally with prayer, and particu- larly with prayer for the communica- tion of divine grace. In order, how- ever, to the right understanding of the words, you are to observe that there were two seasons of the year at which rain was peculiarly needed and looked for in Judea. The one was in autumn, at the seed-time ; the other was in the spring, when the corn had to be brought to an ear and filled. The rain which fell at the one, is spoken of in Scripture as " the former rain ;" that at the other, as " the latter ;" and you find the two mentioned together when God would covenant to do great things for his land. Thus, in the Book of Deu- teronomy, " If ye shall hearken dili- gently unto my commandments, which I command you this day, I will give you the rain of your land in his due season, the first rain and the latter rain." Thus again, in the prophecy of Jeremiah, "Neither say they in their heart. Let us now fear the Lord our God, that giveth rain, both the former and the latter in his season ; he re- serveth unto us the appointed weeks of harvest." And once more, in Hosea, " Then shall we know, if we follow on to know the Lord : his going forth is prepared as the morning ; and he shall come unto us as the rain, as the latter and former rain unto the earth." But the " latter rain" is often mention ed by itself, as though specially need- ed to the making available the labors of the husbandman. Thus you read in the Book of Job ; " They waited for me as for the rain, and they opened their mouth wide as for the latter rain." And Solomon says, in the Book of Proverbs, " In the light of the king's countenance is life ; and his favor is as a cloud of the latter rain." Jeremiah, also, when describing the utter desola- tion brought by sin upon the land, ex- claims; " Therefore the showers have been withholden, and there hath been no latter rain." The want of this lat- ter rain would evidently be peculiarly distressing ; it might not do more to- wards causing famine than the want of the former ; but, occurring at a time when the husbandman had fully done his part, and was expecting to reap the THE LATTER RAIN. 527 fruitof his labors, the horrors of dearth I year at which rain is accustomed to would be aggravated through the bit- | fall, how readily do we expect rain at terness of disappointment; and there that time, just as though there were a would, moreover, be less opportuni- ty of providing sustenance from other quarters than if " the former" rain had failed, and thus long notice had been given of an insufficient harvest. We may find, as we proceed with our discourse, that, in applying the text to spiritual things, great atten- tion should be given to this mention of "the latter rain" rather than of "the former." At present it is sufficient to have pointed out to you the times at which rain ordinarily fell in Judea : you will hence be aware of the import- ance of the blessing for which the peo- ple are directed to ask. We will now, without further preface, enter on the consideration of several great truths which appear derivable from the pas- sage, when taken, in its largest sense, as a direction to prayer. We will not attempt, beforehand, to specify these truths, but rather leave them to open successively as Ave prosecute our ex- certani set of causes, which, working always, and with unvarying regularity, would be sure, at corresponding sea- sons, to produce corresponding results. Men seem practically to have but little remembrance, that the mainspring of all the mechanism is in the hands of an invisible Creator ; that it is not from what goes on in the hidden la- boratories of what they call nature that season succeeds season, and shower and sunshine alternate with so much of beautiful and beneficent order, but that the whole arrangement is mo- mentarily dependent on the will and energy of that supreme Being who " sitteth upon the circle of the earth, and the inhabitants thereof are as grasshoppers." It is needful, we might almost say, that God should occa- sionally interrupt the ordinary course of things, that he should suspend the laws which he has been pleased to impress on the natural world, if amination. Let us only ask rain of the i only that he may keep himself from Lord, let us only entreat the aids and being forgotten, and compel some re- teachings of his Spirit, without which we may not hope to enter thoroughly cognition of his all-pervading influ- ence from those who actually "live into the meaning of Scripture, and it ; in him, and move, and have their may, indeed, be for our profit that we study the direction, "Ask ye of the being." But whilst there is this known prone- Lord rain in the .time of the latter ! ness amongst us to the substituting se- rain ;" and that we hearken to the } cond causes for the first, whilst we are promise, "The Lord shall make bright ■ confessedly so ready to look to the clouds, and give them showers of rain, to every one grass in the field." Now we shall begin with looking at the direction as having to do literal- ly with the rain, with those showers which descend in due season to wa- ter the earth, " that it may give seed to the sower and bread to the eater." Alas, how difficult is it to keep God in mind as the great First Cause, when there is a mechanism of second causes through which he is pleased to conduct laws and the mechanism of nature, to do for us what can be done onlj'^ by the direct and immediate agency of God, how important, how instructive, such an injunction as this; "Ask ye of the Lord rain in the time of the latter rain !" You are to lay the emphasis on its being "the time of the latter rain," the season, that is, at which rain might be commonly expected ; at which, year after year, it had been ac- customed to fall, and at which, thcre- his operations and communicate bless- j fore, a boastful, or rather an inlidel ings ! If things ordinarily occur in a | philosophy, might have argued that it settled course, we speedily forget that | would continue to fall, in obedience to this course is, after all, but the law j fixed and immutable laws. }f, from which God is pleased to prescribe to j some cause or another, there should himself, to be followed only while it ! be want of rain at seasons when it shall seem o-ood to his infinite wisdom, . was not usually wanted, wlien it was and swerved from whensoever he shall'! not tlie time for either " the former think fit to suspend his own laws. If, rain " or " the latter," perhaps this for example, there be a time of the boastful philosophy itself would allow 528 THE LATTER RAIN. that there was place or occasion for prayer. We do not, indeed, mean that the philosophy would necessarily as- sent to the possible usefulness of pray- er in the supposed emergence: it is far more likely that it would entrench it- self within its maxims as to the fixed- ness of nature's laws, and the conse- quent vanity of any expectation that these laws would be interfered with in order to the meeting our wishes or wants. But, at least, philosophy would here confess, that, if the rain fell at all, it would fall not through the work- ing of mere second causes ; and that, therefore, though prayer must be prac- tically worthless, as pleading against a firmly-settled ordinance, it was still so far in place as that only the Being, to whom it was addressed, had power to give rain at so unwonted a time. If, however, it be actually "the time of the latter rain," then will a prayer for rain appear to this philosophy utterly unreasonable or preposterous, as if we were not content to leave natural caus- es to work out their invariable effects; or as if we wanted to make a parade of the power and efficacy of prayer, and therefore directed it to a boon which we knew that we should receive, whe- ther we asked it or not. But God, on the contrary, says ; "Ask ye rain in the time of the latter rain." Oh, what a lesson to us that we reckon not, so to speak, on the seasons ; that we presume not to ex- pect any good merely because the time is come round at which, in the ordinary course of his dealings, God has been used to bestow that good. A blessing may have been long and regularly communicated ; but we are not to count on the regularity of the communication, as though it proved some immutable law, which must con- tinue to work out the accustomed re- sult : it may be " the time of the lat- ter rain ;" the experience of a length- ened course of years may Avarrant the expectation of rain ; and the clouds on the firmament may seem big with the usual supply — but God has yet to is- sue his command ; God has yet to un- seal the fountain ; and therefore there is still place for prayer, there is still need for prayer : it is " the time of the latter rain," but, on that very account, it is the time also for the asking of ram. To ask it at another time might be asking a miracle, a de- parture from God's ordinary course, and we cannot be said to have warrant for that. But to ask it at this time, is to ask what we know is according to God's will ; and " this," saith St. John, " is the confidence that we have in him, that if we ask any thing accor- ding to his will, he heareth us." Beware, theji, of taking for granted that mercies will continue to descend in the order, and at the times, which may have long been observed : there is no such likely way of stopping the supply, as the failing to recognize that the fountain is with God. God describes himself as "a jealous God ;" and it must move him to jealousy, whensoever, in any degree, we substi- tute his instruments for himself, or look to the channel as if it were the spring. The long continuance of a mercy at a particular season may in- deed be said to involve a kind of pro- mise — for God has so constituted us that we naturally expect what we have often experienced ; and a divine pro- mise is not only that which is regis- tered in the divine word, but that also which is conveyed through the moral constitution received at God's hands. But let it be remembered that a divine promise, so far from proving it unne- cessary that we ask, should itself be our great reason for asking. God's promises are the warrants for man's prayers. What God has promised, may be asked for in the perfect confi- dence " that it is according to his will ;" and since the promises are con- ditional, their fulfilment being made dependent on our seeking, or inquiring for, the covenanted blessings, we may not only be encouraged in our prayers by God's promises, but ought in no degree to reckon on promises, except as we make them foundations for pray- ers. God may be said to have prom- ised rain " in the time of the latter rain :" but just because it is a time at which rain has been promised, there- fore it is a time at which prayer should be made. And so with every mercy. The re- currence of the time at which God has been used to bestow it, should not make you expect to receive it again without asking, but should make you THE LATTER PtAlN. 529 ask in the full confidence of receiving. The Sabbath, for example, is a " time of the latter rain :" rain is then used to fall — God's Spirit descends in gra- cious showers for the refreshment of the church. The time of the admin- istration of christian ordinances is a '' time of the latter rain," God com- monly using the preaching of his word and the dispensing of his sacraments, to the conveyance of grace to his waiting people. But because these are times " of the latter rain," shall they not also be times for the praying for rain 1 Oh, never ought your pray- ers to be so fervent or importunate, You are, as it were, on the top of Car- mel ; you see the cloud rising out of the sea; but you must not take for granted that there \vill be "abundance of rain :" God may command the cloud back into the sea, yea, he may be ex- pected to do this, if you do not wres- tle with him in prayer. Therefore, | on the Sabbath morn, because it is the Sabbath morn, the morning of grace, re- double your praj'^ers for grace ; on sa- cramental opportunities, because they are God's chosen occasions of impart- ing his Spirit, cry more earnestly than ever for that Spirit. Think not that the favorableness of the season can make the necessity for prayer less, whereas it does but make the encouragement to prayer greater. Substitute not the means of grace for grace, as though, when the former were vouchsafed, the latter would be sure to follov/ ; ah, there may be the clouds and not the showers ; and, therefore, remember ye the precept of our text, and " ask ye of the Lord rain in the time of the latter rain," Now we have thus endeavored to show you that the circumstance of its being " a time of rain " — whether the natural rain or the spiritual — so far from furnishing a reason why we should not ask for rain, is itself the great argument for our asking ; inas- much as it proves that we have God's promise on our side, and the promise of (xod is always the warrant, but never tlie substitute for the prayer of man. But all that has preceded would have been equally appropriate, had " the former rain," not " the latter," been specified in the text: we have simply spoken of the time as being " a lime of rain ;" a time at which it is God's ordinary course to communicate a blessing j and we have warned you against expecting that blessing, with- out asking for it j we have endeavored to prove to you, that your reason for I expecting should be your reason al.so for asking. j Let us not, however, pass without comment the mention of " the latter rain :" when the reference of the pro- phet is supposed to be to spiritual rain, there arc special truths to be gathered from his speaking of "the latter rain" rather than of " the former." We have explained to you that " the latter rain" was that which fell in the spring, and which was instrumental to the bring- ing the corn into the ear, and filling it; so that, if this rain failed, the husband- man v/ould be disappointed of his har- vest, notwithstanding all his previous industrj'^, skill, and anxiety. He was indeed dependent also on " the former rain," that which fell at the seed-time ; for the grain would not germinate, and send up the tender shoot, unless the ground were watered by the fertilizing showers. But there would be a yet more bitter disappointment, for there would be the utter loss of much labor, the fruitless expenditure of much ef- fort and hope, if " the latter rain" were withheld; and, consequently, there was even greater reason for his asking rain in " the time of the latter rain" than in that of "the former:" if "the former rain" were withheld, he might make some other use of his capital and en- terprise ; but if " the latter," his disas- ter scarce admitted of repair. Now without endeavoring to trace too narrowly the parallel to this in spiritual things, we may safely say that there is something very aiiecting and admonitory in the mention of " the lat- ter rain." It is the rain needed for fill- ing the ear, and fitting it for the sickle. Take it metaphorically, and it is the o-racc needed for ripening the believer, and fitting him for heaven. The former rain may be considered that which fell upon him at his baptism, or, perhaps more accurately, at his conversion, when he set himself, according to the directions of the pro]ihct, to " break up his fallow ground, and sow to him- self in righteousness." And he has been enabled, through the continued 67 530 THE LATTER KilX, influences of the Spirit of God, to brinaf fortli " first the blade, and then the ear," advancing in the christian life, and adorning the doctrine of the Savior. But oh, there is now a danger of his falling into security, of his reckoning too con- fidently on the harvest, of his conclu- ding that God will certainly complete a work so auspiciously begun, so hap- pily carried on, and that he himself can have nothing to do but leave God to "perfect that which concerneth" him. True, indeed, it is God alone who can complete what God alone commenced ; and true also it is, that God is not will- ing to leave his work unfinished. But lie may withhold. " the latter rain," af- ter having given " the former," if he see the husbandman presuming on a promise, in place of persevering in prayer. He does not leave the husband- man to ripen the corn, just as he did not require of him to make the seed shoot ; for there is not a single stage in the great process of spiritual renew- al, at which it is ought else but God's grace, which, acting on the heart, brings out features of the image which sin fearfully defaced. But whilst it is not with the husbandman, but with God, to ripen the corn, God may make his ripening it depend on the exercise of faith, and the importunity of prayer. He may give "the latter rain," if the husbandman, conscious of his depen- dence upon God for the harvest, con- tinue meekly to supplicate the neces- sary showers : he may withhold that it must be through perseverance in these acts of faith and of prayer: if he think himself sure to go on, because he supposes that he has acquired a cer- tain velocity which will sufiice, with- out further eflbrt, to carry him to the end, alas, he shows only that, even in advancing, he has failed to observe by what his progress was caused. That progress can never be such that he may dispense with the assistance, with- out which he could not have made a successful beginning. There was " the former rain," else there could not have been even the green blade ; there must be also "the latter rain," else will he "bring no fruit to perfection." But it is the same thing, it is rain, Vv^hich is needed at both times, or for both ends : there is no change in the instrumen- tality; he could not have begun with- out Divine grace, and Divine grace alone can give completeness to the work. This is among the simplest, the most elementary of doctrines ; and yet it is one of which the believer requires to be often and earnestly reminded. When a man begins in religion, his convic- tion of sin, and his sense of danger, conspire to the urging him to cry unto God for assistance and guidance. But when be has made some way, there is fear of his forgetting the agency to which alone he is indebted for pro- gress. Or, if he do not forget the agen- cy, he comes to expect it as a matter of course — as the husbandman the rain rain, if the husbandman, calculating on at the accustomed seasons — and he the ordinary course of his dealings grow remiss in petitioning, and give up his fields to the presumed certain- lies of the season. There is no point in the life of a christian, at which he can do without the supply of God's grace ; none at which he can expect the supply, if he be not cultivating the spirit and habit of prayer. It is not the mere circum- rtance of his having long followed the narrow path of life, which can be taken in proof that he will follow it to the end. If he have hitherto walked with God, it has been through his having sought and obtained such communica- tions of the Divine Spirit, as have ena- bled him to maintain his separation from grows more remiss in prayer for God's Spirit, even whilst relying on the aids of that Spirit. Beware of this, ye who are growing old in a christian profes- sion. Ye are not secure of having more of God's Spirit, merely because ye have already had much. Ye must not slack- en in prayer for that Spirit, because it is only " the latter rain" which is now needed, and you may think that God will be sure to ripen what he has so long been cultivating. Rather think with yourselves, how grievous would it be that the harvest should be one of shame, when the seedtime has been one of pro- mise! How sad to miss "the latter rain," after having had " the former," and thus lose the labor of ^^ears, when on the a world lying in wickedness. And if I point, it may be, of gathering in the he is to persevere in walking with God, ' sheaves ! Oh, pray the more t-urnestly. THE LATTER RAIN, 531 strive the more intensely, the nearer i pares us for not expecting that gift in you stand to the termination of your \ all its largeness, until the time sliall bn course. I would say to the believer, i at hand when Christ is to reappear, and even on his death-bed, a good hope, a [ set up visibly his throne on the wreck- scriptural hope, is that which express- es itself in cries for God's grace. Till you are with God in heaven, no Ian- of all earthly dominion. But, at all events, there is no dispute that the prophecy refers generally to the clnis- guage can be so appropriate as that i tian dispensation, and that it assigns, which entreats that God would be with { as one of the privileges of that dispeu- you on earth. It is indeed " the time 1 sation, a larger measure of spiritual iii- of the latter rain;" and those dense | fluence. When St. Peter adduces the clouds, which are the heraldry of dis- | prediction as that which was to '' come solution, are commonly charged with : to pass in the last days," he undoubt- showers of consolation ; for God may i edly applies it to the days in which we be expected to be doubly with his peo- i live, as well as to those in which he pie, as they pass " through the valley ! spake : these must be amongst "the of the shadow of death." But God ' last days," whatever the view taken of will still be " inquired of" for what he | the prophetic chronology ; and there- stands ready to bestow; and the best confidence for the dying, as the best i'or the living, is confidence in prayer as laying hold on a promise. Be it then "the time of the latter rain" — "the latter rain," because but few more showers can be needed; "the time" fore are they days to which the great promise belongs, "I will pour out of my Spirit upon all flesh." Hence the present time is " the lime of the latter rain:" the time of " the former rain " was that of earlier and preparatory dispensations, when the of that rain, because, in his ordinary j world was being made ready for a course, God is then wont to give large- j fuller revelation ; but now that the 3y of his grace — on neither account | Holy Ghost has entered specially on slacken in prayer; rather, on both ac- j the office of guide and instructor to counts, be fervent in prayer. There is I the church, it is the time of " the lat- the better reason for expecting an an- j ter rain." There is to be no higher ev- Rwer to prayer, but none for supposing | idence of the truth of Christianity, no that prayer is no longer needed: he | opening of more direct intercourse be- alone can safely have done with offer- ! tween earth and heaven : we are in ing prayer for grace, who has begun the anthem of praise in glory; and, therefore, "Be not weary in well-do- ing," but " ask ye of the Lord rain in the time of the latter rain." But now let us consider whether "the time of the latter rain" may not be a season in the history of the church, and whether, when so understood, there is not a great and neglected duty en- joined by the text. It is certainly to be gathered from the tenor of Scripture, that, as "the time of the end" ap- proaches, that time on which prophecy the enjoyment of those final advanta- ges for securing happiness beyond the grave, which were longed for, but in vain, by them on whom only " the for- mer rain" fell; many prophets and kings having desired to see the things which we see, and not having seen them, and to hear the things which we hear, and not having heard them. But though it is thus " the time of the lat- ter rain," because, generally, that time must include the whole christian dis- pensation, and because perhaps, in a stricter sense, it must comprehend has thrown its most emphatic descrip- { such days as our own, which are not tions, there will be a special outpour- j without signs of the second coming of ing of the Holy Spirit. Even the pre- Christ, yet it does not follow that diction of Joel, which St. Peter quotes " the latter rain" will fall; as though as having had. reference to the descent | the heavens must be opened, merely of the Holy Ghast at Pentecost, would j because it is the season for the show- seem to be still waiting an ampler ac- I ers. Our blessed Savior, when deliv- complishment; for the prophet asso- j ering counsels which were undoubted- ciates the promised gift of the Spirit ' ly to serve for the mstruction of the with the coming of "the great and ter- | church to " the time of the end, ^ spake rible day of the Lord," and thus pre- 1 thus in regard of the Spirit : If ye 532 THE LATTER KAIN. then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask iiim." The dispensation, which he was introducing, was to be emphatically the dispensation of the Spirit ; the dis- pensation throughout which the Spi- rit was to " abide " as " a Comforter" with the church ; and yet, you see, the asking for that Spirit is still made the condition on which it should be given. It is the same as with prophecies of the restoration of Israel, and with promises of gladness and peace to the long exiled people. Nowhere do you find these prophecies and promises more copiously uttered than in the thirty-sixth chapter of the book of Ezekiel — but then, observe how this chapter concludes, "Thus saith the Lord God, I will yet for this be inqui- red of by the house of Israel, ta do it for them." God had just declared that he would do this and that thing j he had made no conditions, but spoken as of a fixed, irreversible, purpose j and nevertheless, as if to remind us of a condition, which is always involved, if not always expressed, where a Divine promise is passed, he adds that he must yet be "inquired of by the house of Israel," in order to his accomplishing what he had announced. Thus also with regard to the pro- gress of Messiah's kingdom, the march of Christianity towards universal do- minion. God hath promised great things. He hath not intended that the vast blessings of redemption should, even in appearance, remain limited to certain sections of the family of man. Though, for wise ends, he hath per- mitted a long struggle between dark- ness and light, he has decreed the ter- mination of that struggle, having given assurance of a time when all shall know him " from the least unto the great- est," when " the kingdoms of the world" shall become " the kingdoms of the Lord and his Christ." But he will yet be '^inquired of" for these thino-s, to do them for us. He requires of us that we exert ourselves for the spread of Christianity ; and he requires that we entreat of him the accomplish- ment of his gracious declarations. Have we not failed in both particu- lars'? and perhaps even more egregi- ously in the latter than in the former % Without pausing to examine what pro- portion our efforts have borne to our means, whether we have, in any due measure, employed our resources on the arduous, but glorious, work of making Christ known to the heathen, let us inquire as to the frequency and intenseness of our prayers for the out- pouring of the Holy Spirit ; and shall we not find but too much cause to con- fess that we have verily been remiss in a duty, which is second to none in ur- gency, and to none in hopefulness 1 The prosperity of the church at home, the progress of our holy religion a- broad, these are not so much depend- ent on any external machinery, as on the quickening, renewing, and strength- ening influences of the Holy Ghost. " Not bj'" might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord of hosts." And these influences of the Holy Ghost are promised in answer to praj^er. But do we often make them the subject of prayer 1 Do we in our closets, do we in our families, cry much unto God that he would fulfil his promises in the bestowment of his Spirit ] I do be- lieve, without indulging in exaggera- ted speech, that we have in our pos- session the means of overthrowing the idolatries of the world, and erecting the Sanctuary of God on the wreck of the temples of heathenism. But I do not believe this, because of the magni- ficent, the unequalled, resources which God, in his providence, has given into our keeping. I do not believe this, because it may almost be said of our colonies, that they are planted on eve- ry land, and of our fleets, that they cover every sea. Perish the boastful computations which, after drawing out our political and commercial ascend- ancy, would infer that we must be competent to the covering the earth with the knowledge of Christ. But I believe this, because I believe in the power of the Holy Ghost to renew the face of the world, and in the power of prayer to obtain the operations of that divine agent. I believe this, because I believe that there is a goodly com- pany in our land who pray the prayer of faith, and who have, therefore, only to be diligent in asking " of the Lord rain in the time of the latter rain," to THE LATTER EAI.>J. 533 insure the descent of showers which shall cause the waste places to rejoice, and ''blossom as the rose." But if the faithful pray not for the rain, it will be nothing-, as heretofore it has done little towards evangelizing the globe, that we have national resources for the pro- pagation of truth, such as were never yet committed to any people under heaven. Some inconsiderable province, some state undistinguished in the scale of nations, unendowed, to all appear- ance, Avith means for high enterprise, may yet take the lead in the honored work of subduing the kingdoms to the Lord our Redeemer, because it will take the lead in the undoubted du- ty of beseeching of God to pour out his Spirit. Let us remember and be warned by this. Let each consider, and examine, whether he may not have verily been guilty herein, perhaps ne- ver praying, or praying but listlessly and formally, for the promised descent of the Holy Ghost. Our lot is cast in the last days, in " the time of the lat- ter rain." We are not without our signs, in the march of events, in the aspect of society, in the accomplish- ment of prophecy, that "the coming of the Lord draweth nigh." Now then is the time for earnest, united, impor- tunate prayer for the Spirit of God. Wonders may be accomplished ; a na- tion may be " born in a day ;" " the ends of the earth may see the salvation of the Lord " " ye that make men- tion of the Lord, keep not silence, and give him no rest ;" " ask ye of the Lord rain in the time of the latter rain ;" and " the Lord shall make bright clouds, and give showers of rain, to every one grass in the field." There is something very beautiful in the terms of this promise; but we have time only for a hasty notice. The " bright clouds," or, as the marginal reading has it, "lightnings," are the harbingers, or forerunners, of the rain; and God, you see, declares that he will make these, before he sends the show- ers. Thus he exercises faith ; he does not immediately answer the prayer, but requires his people still to " wait " on him ; he will " make bright clouds " for their encouragement, but they must persevere in supplication if they would have showers for their refreshment. Ay, and to them that " wait upon the Lord," there may be clouds, but are they not "bright clouds'?" the stripes of light are painted on their darkness; the murkiest cloud which can rise on the firmament of the believer has a gilded side: "the Sun of righteous- ness " shines on it ; and so truly is the time of tears the time also of " the lat- ter rain," that, if these "bright clouds" betoken a season of aiTliction, they are quickly followed by communications of grace. God may bring the cloud over his people, and, as Elihu saith, "Men see not the bright light which is in the clouds;" but if the world see it not, the believer may; and God brings the cloud, that its brightness being ac- knowledged, in and through the ac- knowledgment of his doing all things well, he may then send " a gracious rain on his inheritance, and refresh it when it is weary." And the showers which God sends are for the clothing with richer ver- dure his garden, which is the church. "To every one grass in the field." We may receive the Spirit ; but we do but grieve, we do but quench it, if its influence be not visible on our walk and conversation. If there be not more and brighter grass in the field, we de- ceive ourselves if we think that there can be more of saving grace in the heart. But how large is the promise — "To every one grass in the field." Here is evidence that "the time of the latter rain" is especially that "time of the end," when falsehood is at length to give way before truth, and the trials of Christianity are to issue in its triumph. " To every one grass in the field," — all shall know the Lord, all shall be righteous. Blessed and glorious pros- pect ! There may be reason for think- ing that the regenerated earth shall be enamelled with the loveliness which sparkled in paradise, ere the dark blifrht of sin dimmed the lustre ; but, at the least, here is a moral verdure of sur- passing richness, and I ask not the vi- sions of a material luxuriance, when we have thus the assurance of an uni- versal righteousness. O Spirit of the living God, the parched and stricken earth waits thy descent : come down, in answer to our prayers, that the val- leys and mountains may no longer lie waste. 53i THE LOWLY ERKAND. SERMON XII. THE LOWLY ERRAND " And if any man say auglit unto you, ye shall say, The Loril hath need of them, oiul slraightwiiy he will send them," — Matt. 21 : 3. You will all probably remember the portion of our Lord's history with which these words are connected. Christ was about to make his last entry into Jerusalem, where he was to seal his doctrine with his death, and offer himself in sacrifice for the sins of the world. There was a prophecy which had distinctly announced that the Mes- siah should enter the city " riding up- on an ass, and upon a colt, the foal of an ass." That this prophecy might not be unfulfilled, our Lord determined to make his approach to Jerusalem in the manner which Zechariah had indicated. In order to this, we read that when they " were come to Bethphage, unto the Mount of Olives, then sent Jesus two disciples, saying unto them. Go into the village over against you, and straightway ye shall find an ass tied, and a colt with her : loose them, and bring them unto me." The remainder of the direction is contained in our text. The thing enjoined on the disci- ples had all the appearance of an act of robbery; and it might well be expect- ed that they would'encounter opposi- tion. But Christ provided against this, telling them what answer to make if any one questioned their right to the ass and the colt, and assuring them that this answer would save them from molestation. And so it came to pass. The disciples went as they had been directed; the ass and colt were found at the precise spot which had been described ; the owners interfered to prevent what seemed like the seiz- ing of their property ; but the simple words with which Christ had furnished his messengers removed all objections, and the ass and colt were allowed to depart. This is one of those occurrences to which we may easily fail to attach due importance, and which contain instruc- tion not to be detected by a cursory glance. The more prominent events in the history of Jesus, the great things which befell him, and the wonderful which he v^rought, attract and fix at- tention ; and we perhaps labor to ex- tract from them the lessons with which they are fraught. But minute things we may comparatively overlook, and so lose much which is calculated to strengthen faith or regulate practice. Possibly, there is often as much to ad- mire and imitate, where there is little of show in the outward action and duty, as where the thing done overwhelms us by its magnificence, or that en- joined by its arduoLisness. Every one stands in amazement by the grave of Lazarus, and looks with awe on the Redeemer as, with a single word, he reanimates the dead. But few may pause to acknowledge equal tokens of superhuman ability, as Christ sends Peter to find a piece of money in the mouth of a fish, or two of his disciples to bring an ass from the neighboring village. Every one admits the great- ness of the obedience when Levi aban- dons the receipt of custom, and the difficulty of the injunction, when the young man is bidden to sell the whole of his possessions. But few, compara- tively, may observe how christian obe- dience was taxed, when apostles were sent on such an errand as is now to be THE LOWLY ERRAND. 535 reviewed, or when the owners of the ass and the colt surrendered them on being told that they were needed by Christ. Let us, then, devote a dis- course to the considering an incident which is less likely than many to at- tract by its evident wonderfulness j but which may be found, on inquiry, to attest most decisively the mission of Christ, and to furnish lessons of the lirst moment to ourselves. Now the Evangelist, so soon as he lias related how Jesus sent his disci- ples on the errand in question, remarks : "All this was done that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the pro- phet," and then proceeds to quote the words of Zechariah. Here the repre- sentation undoubtedly is, that Jesus sent for the ass and the colt on purpose that he might accomplish an ancient prediction, which, by universal con- sent, had respect to the Messiah. An impostor would have done the same. Had a deceiver arisen, professing to be the Christ, he would of course have endeavored to establish a correspond- ence between himself and the deliverer whom seers had beheld in their vi- sions.* Wheresoever the thing pre- dicted were such that its seeming ac- complishment might be contrived, he would naturally have set himself to the bringing round what should pass for fulfilment. And certainly the prophecy of Zechariah is one which a false Christ might have managed to accomplish. There was nothing easier than to have arranged for entering Jerusalem in the manner indicated by the prophet : any one who pretended to be the Christ, and who knew that the riding into the city on an ass was one appointed sign of the Christ, could have taken care that this sign at least should be his, whatever the particulars in which he might fail to give proof. We do not, then, bring Christ's entering Jerusalem in the manner foretold by Zechariah, as any convincing ej?idence of the truth of his pretensions : there was, indeed, the accomplishment of a pro- phecy, but it was a prophecy of which, on the showing of the Evangelist, Je- sus himself arranged the accomplish- ment, and which an impostor might, without difficulty, have equally ful- !Seo Sciiiion G. filled. It v/as necessary that the thing predicted should come to pass, other- wise, as you must all see, there would have been a flaw in the credentials of our Lord : for as the riding on the ass mto Jerusalem had been distinctly foretold, he could not have been the Christ had he not thus entered the city. Hence the accomplishment of the prophecy in question prevented an ob- jection rather than furnisheda proof : it prevented an objection, because the not having ridden into Jerusalem might have been urged in evidence that Jesus could not be the Christ: but it fur- nished no proof, because a deceiver might have contrived to make his en- try as the prophet had announced. But if we may not dwell on the inci- dent before us as proving Christ divine through the witness of fulfilled pro- phecy, let us consider whether there be not the witness of more than human prescience and power. And here, again, we must proceed with caution and limitation. For just as there may be contrivance to produce the appa- rent accomplishment of prophecy, there may be to efTect the apparent display of supernatural attributes. There was — at least there may have been, a dis- play of superhuman knowledge and power. Christ told his disciples, with the greatest minuteness, where they should find the animals, and what words would induce the owners to allow iheir being taken. If you read the accounts in the several Evangelists, you will perceive that he went into the nicest particulars. There was to be an ass tied, and a colt with her. The colt was to 'be one on which never man had sat. The place was to be immediately on entering the village, and where two ways met. The owners were to make objection, but to withdraw that objec- tion on being told, " The Lord hath need of them." Now, if this were not i miracle, the owners having been su- j pernaturaily acted on, was it not pro- i phecy 1 Christ predicted certain oc- [ currences, and when all came to pass ! as he had said, was there not proof of [ his being gifted with more than human i foresight { Yes ; if the whole were I not contrived and pre-arranged. And ; it might have been. What easier than I for an impostor and his confederates to have manngcd the whole affair ! 535 THE LOWLY i;RRA^'D. The impostor might have agreed with his confederates, that they should be in waiting at a certain phice with cer- tain animals, and that, on receiving a certain message, they should surren- der those animals. And thus might he have acquired for himself the reputa- tion of a prophet, though there would have been nothing in the whole trans- action but trick and collusion. Let us consider, however, whether the supposition of trick and collusion can be, in any measure, sustained under the circumstances of the case. Had the owners of the ass been confede- rate with Christ, they must have been of the number of his followers or ad- herents. But then tKey would, almost necessarily, have been known to the disciples whom Jesus sent, and thus the whole deception would have been instantly exposed. For you are to ob- serve, that, if any were to be convinced or persuaded by the prescience dis- played, it must have been the disci- pies; no others, so far as we know, were acquainted with what we may call Christ's prediction. But no efiect could have been wrought on the disci- ples, had not the owners of the ass been strangers to Jesus ; and, if strangers, they could not have been leagued with him to eflect a deceit. Whilst, therefore, we readily allow that there was that in the things pre- dicted and performed which might have given place for imposture, v^'e contend that the circumstances ex- clude the supposition of imposture, and leave room for nothing but belief that Christ really prophesied, and that events proved his prophecy truth. And having satisfied ourselves that there could not have been deception or col- lusion, we may admire the prescience and power displayed, and derive from them fresh witness to the dignity of our Lord. We have pointed out to you how the prophecy descended into the minutest particulars, and it is this ac- curacy of detail which makes pro- phecy wonderful. A great occurrence may often be conjectured through hu- man sagacity ; a keen observer will mark the shadows thrown by coming events, and give notices of those events, which time shall accurately verify. But the difficulty is to go into trifles, to foreknow things trifling in themselves, or their trifling accidents and accom- paniments. I am really more struck at the foreknowledge of Christ, when sending his disciples for the ass and the colt, than when announcing the de- solations which should come upon Je- rusalem. Circumstanced as the Jews were in regard of the Romans, sub- jected to their empire but galled by the yoke, a far-sighted politician might have conjectured the arrival of the time when rebellion Avould make, the eagle swoop down to the slaughter. But that an ass and her foal should be found, at a certain moment, on a cer- tain spot — that the owners would al- low them to be taken away on the ut- terance of certain words, which even ii thief might have used — indeed, there may not be as much majesty in such a prophecy, as when the theme is a con- queror's march or an empire's fall, but 1 know not whether there be not more marvel, if you judge by the room given for a shrewd guess or a sagacious sur- mise. There was miracle, moreover, as well as prophecy. I can count it no- thing less than a miracle wrought up- on mind, that men, in all probability poor men, were willing to give up their property at the bidding of strangers, and with no pledge for its return. You can hardly explain this but on the sup- position of a superhuman influence ; so that Christ, who had before showed his power over matter at a distance, by heal- ing the centurion's son without going to his house, now showed his power over mind at a distance, by constrain- ing men to act without bringing them to hear. Hence, we can declare the incident before us a singular exhibition of the power of prophecy and the pow- er of miracle ; an exhibition, moreover, as appropriate as it was striking. We can suppose that our Redeemer, know- ing the bitter trials to which his disci- ples were about to be exposed, desired to give them some proof of his super- human endowments, which might en- courage them to rely on his protec- tion when he should no longer be visi- bly amongst them. What shall be the proof? shall he control the tumultu- ous elements? shall lie summon le- gions of angels 1 shall he shake Jeru- salem with the earthquake 1 shall he divide the Jordan 1 Nay, it was not by THE LOWLY ERRAKD. 537 any stupendous demonstration that the timid disciples were likely to be assu- red. They rather required to be taught that the knowledge and power of their Master extended to mean and incon- siderable tilings ; for hence they would learn, that, though poor and despised, they should not be overlooked but en- gage his protection and care. They wanted evidence that his presence was not needful in order to his guardian- ship, but that he could act on their enemies as well when at a distance as when near. And the more magnificent miracle might not have certified them on the points on which they thus need- ed assurance. But this was done by an exhibition of prescience in regard to an animal and of power over its owner. He who could be taking cognizance of the place of an ass and her foal, would not fail to observe the position of the poor fishermen, his followers ; he who could influence those who saw him not to surrender their property, would put forth control over persecutors when he had returned to the heavens. And therefore do we call upon you to admire the transaction under review, not only because it displayed super- human knowledge and power, but dis- played, them in the manner best adapt- to the circumstances of those for whose benefit it took place. Our blessed Sa- vior repeated the kind of display, as though feeling its special suitableness to his disciples, when he indicated the place for eating the passover, by the meeting a man "bearing a pitcher of water." The ass and the colt might have been procured without all this labored and circuitous process. But Jesus, contemplating the fulfilment of an ancient prediction, Vv'ould have it fulfilled through such means as should strengthen the faith of the dejected followers, who were soon to be sepa- rated from him. He might in a mo- ment, by an act of creative power, have produced the creatures of which he stood in need. Or he might have summoned the chief priests and scribes, \ and constrained them, however much ' against their will, to provide for his triumphant, yet humiliating, entry. And in such methods tliere might have been more that was calculated to dazzle and amaze. But if the despised were to be taught that meanness could not hide from his notice, and the de- serted that distance could not with- draw from his protection, then, indeed, nothing could have been more appro- priate than the transaction before us. It might have been a loftier bidding. Go ye to the wilderness and command hither the untamed thing which " scorn- eth the multitude of the city, neitiier regardetb he the crying of the driver ;" or, " Go ye to the Sanhedrim, and de- mand of the haughty assembly that they furnish my humble equipage, and so enable me to fulfil prophecies which shall witness against them ;" but there was immeasurably more of regard for i the wants of his disciples, more of ten- der consideration, more of gracious forethought, in the directions before us, " Go ye into the village : ye shall find an ass tied, and a colt with her : loose them, and say. The Lord hath need of them." Now, up to this point we have ex- amined the transaction with reference to our Savior, considering only the prescience and power displayed, to- gether with the wisdom and goodness that may be traced in the mode of dis- play. Let us now turn to the conduct of the disciples, and see whether there be not much to deserve our imitation. It does not appear that there was any hesitation as to the obeying a command which might naturally have been heard with some measure of re- pugnance. The disciples were to go on what might have passed for a wild errand. Was it likely that they should find the ass and the colt just where Christ said ? If they did, how were they to obtain possession? what was it but robbery to attempt to remove them without the knowledge of the owners ? and if the owners should be standing by, what could be expected from them but insult and violence! what probability was there tliat they would be influenced by such words as Christ directed to be used I It can hardly be questioned that most of us would have been ready witii these doubts and objections. We invent rea- sons enough for hesitating, or refus- ing to obey, when there is not half so much of plausible excuse for avoid ing a prescribed path of duty. How difTicult do we find it to take God at his word, to show our faith in a pro- OS o3S THE LOWtY ERKAKD. inise by fulfilling its condition ! We will not go to the place where the two ways meet, on the simple assurance that we shall there'' find what we seek ; we want some more sensible evidence as to the animals being there, before we adventure on what may only dis- appoint. And if we are to be exposed to misconstruction or opprobrium, if the thing which we are called upon to do be likely to bring reproach, or give occasion for calumny, what a shrink- ing is there ! what a reluctance ! The positive command of Christ would hardly suffice, if it required what an ill-natured world might liken to rob- bery. Not that, in obeying the Divine law, we shall ever give just cause for opprobrious reflection ; the command might be to take the ass and the foal, but God would provide that the takino- them should not bring disgrace upon religion. But this it is for which we cannot trust him : we doubt whether there will be any such power in the words, " The Lord hath need of them," as will secure us from violence or malice ; and therefore, we either de- cline the duty altogether, or enter on it with a hesitation, and want of faith, which may themselves produce the re- sults of which we are in dread. It was not thus with the first disci- ples; and we should do well to en- deavor to imitate their obedience. It seems, with them, to have been enough that the duty was clear, as enjoined by a plain command of their Master ; and immediately they "conferred not with flesh and blood," hearkened not to car- nal suggestions, but acted as men who knew that compliance Avas their part, and the removal of difficulties God's. Thus should it be with us ; we should have but one object, that of satisfying ourselves, from the prayerful study of Scripture, whether this action be right or that action wrong; when the deci- sion is reached, there should be no he- sitation in regard either of consequen- ces or means ; what God has made it incumbent on us to do, he will enable us to perform ; what he requires us to give up, he will not sufl^er us to want. If he send us to the place where the two ways meet, it shall be only our faithlessness which can prevent our there finding what we seek ; and if his bidding seem to expose us to the being called robbers, he will see his will so executed as to silence the ad- versary. And then it is well worthy of re- mark that it looked like an ignoble er- rand on which the disciples were dis- patched. When sent to preach the Gospel in the cities of Judea, there was something illustrious in the com- mission ; we can imagine them going forth, sustained in part by the lofty con- sciousness of being messengers from heaven, charged with tidings of unri- valled importance. But to be sent to a village in quest of an ass and her foal; what an indignity, it might almost have been said, for men on whom had been bestowed supernatural powers, who had been intrusted, not only with the preaching of the Gospel, but with the ability to work wonders in proof of its truth. Probably they were not aware of Christ's reasons for sending them on such an errand ; it might have thrown a sort of splendor about the commission, had they known that an- cient prophecy was to be thereby ac- complished. But it was not until after his resurrection that Christ expounded unto his disciples " in all the Scrip- tures the things concerning himself." It may, therefore, have been that they whom he dispatched, had no idea what- soever of being instrumental to fulfil- ing a famous prediction, but went about the business in ignorance of all that might have redeemed it from apparent ignobleness. The opinion of many is, that the two disciples were Peter and John, men who had accompanied the Redeemer to Tabor, and witnessed the wondrous scene of his transfiguration. What a change was here ! to have been selected, at one time, to go to meet Moses and Elias, emerging in glory from the invisible world ; and at ano- ther, to go into a village, and find aa ass and her foal for their Master. But it was for their Master: and this suf- ficed. It mattered nothing to them ou what they were employed, provided only it was Christ by whom they were employed. That, they felt, could not be degrading which he commanded ; nor that unimportant by which he might be served. Oh for something- of the like spirit amongst ourselves — a readiness, to fill the lower offices as well as the chief, a disposition to THE LOWLY ERRAND. 53f) count it honor enough to be useful to Christ, in whatever capacity ! How many are there who can be active and earnest in what is great and imposing, and take the lead in enterprises for the spread of the Gospel, who, neverthe- less, have no taste for humbler duties, duties to be discharged in the hovel of poverty, and at the bedside of sickness! This is willingness to be the disciple, whilst Judea has to be traversed, with all the insignia of an ambassador from God, and unwillingness, when the ass and the colt are to be fetched from the village. How manj'- can hearken gladly to religion, whilst discourse turns only on lofty things, on communings with Deity, on manifestations of heaven, who yet feel impatience, and even dis- gust, when there is mention of a cross to be borne, and reproach to be braved. -And what is this but readiness to fol- low Christ to the mount, when he is about to assume glorious apparel, and shine forth in the majesty which is es- sentially his own, but refusal to act in his service when he requires the mean animal, which is likely to procure him the scorn of the proud 1 Indeed it is a. prime truth, but one which we are all slow to learn, that there is no employment which is not ennobled through being employment for Christ, and that it is not genuine Christianity which selects what it likes, and leaves what it dislikes. If we have the love of Christ in our hearts, it will be our dominant desire to promote his cause and perform his will ; and though the dominance of this desire may not prevent our feeling that we should pre- fer one sphere of labor to another, or enter with greater alacrity on this course than on that, it will certainly produce readiness for every variety of duty, for fetching the colt on which Christ may ride, as well as for rear- ing the temple in which he may dwell. And we set before you the example of the Apostles in a particular, in which, possibly, it is often overlooked. We show you how, without the least hesi- tation, these holy men set themselves to the obeying a command, against which they might have offered very plausible objections, objections drawn not only from the little likelihood of success, but from the almost certain exposure to reproach and disgrace. We show you also how it was re- quired of them to come down, so to speak, from their loftier occupation, and perform what might be called a menial service ; and with what alacrity they complied ; the very men to whom spirits were subject, and who had been ordained to wage God's war with the powers of darkness, being directed, and being willing, to go on an errand to which the meanest were equal. The disciples were never worthier of imita- tion than in this. Think of them when a duty is proposed to you from which you recoil, because there seems but lit- tle to encourage, and you must, more- over, be liable to opposition and ca- lumny. Is it apparently a less hopeful thing which you have to take in hand, than the finding so many contingencies satisfied as were to meet, if the two disciples succeeded 1 the animals of the right kind, standing at a certain place, and at a certain time, the own- ers consenting to their removal, with- out receiving price or security. And can the doing what is bidden expose you to more of opposition and calum- ny than seemed to threaten the disci- ples, who were to take the property of others, and thus run the risk of be- ing regarded and treated as robbers? Think, moreover, of these disciples when you either long for more honor- ed employment than has been allotted you by God, or are tempted to decline any duty as beneath you, and fitted only for such as are inferior in office. They were, probably, among the migh- tiest of Apostles who went into a vil- lage to loosen, and lead away an ass and her foal, at the bidding of Christ. Ah, it were easy to exhibit the disci- ples under a more imposing point of view, and you might feel it a stirring thing to be bidden to imitate these first preachers of Christianity, as they throw themselves into combat with the idolatries of the world. But the hard thino- is to obey Christ on the simple warrant of his word, without object- ing the difficulties, or computing the consequences. The hard thing is, to be willing to be as nothing, so long as you may be useful in the church ; to be content with the lowest place in the household of the Lord, yea, to think it honor to be vile, if it be in- deed in Christ's cause. And wishing 5i0 THE LOWLY ERRANF, to urge you, by the example of Apos- tles, to what is hardest ia duty, we do not array these men before you in their lofty enterprise of enlightening' igno- rance, and overthrowing superstition ; we remind you who they were, how commissioned, how endowed, and how exalted; and then we bid you ponder their instant obedience to the com- mand, "Go into the village; straight- way ye shall find an ass tied, and a colt with her; loose them and bring them unto me." Bui if there were much worthy of being admired and imitated in the con- duct of the disciples, what are we to say to that of the owners of the ass and the colt'? It were beside our purpose to inquire into the circumstances or character of these men. Indeed we have no material for such an inquiry, as we are not told whether they had any knowledge of Christ, and can there- fore but conjecture their treatment of his pretensions. Thus much, however, is certain — they opposed the removal of their property, but immediately with- drew their opposition, on hearing the words, " The Lord hath need of them." It may be doubted whether they un- derstood the disciples as referring to Christ under the name of '' the Lord," or whether they applied the name to God ; for the disciples were not in- structed to say, " Our Lord hath need of them" — which would have fixed the message to Christ — but " The Lord," a form of expression which is used ah- solutely of Deity, as well as of the Me- diator. It is not improbable, therefore, that the owners considered that their property was demanded from them in the name of the Almighty, and that, secretly influenced to regard the de- mand as having actually proceeded from God, they immediately and unhesita- tingly complied. At all events, if it were to Christ that they made the sur- render, they made it to him under the title of " the Lord" — thus recognizing a right superior to their own, and con- fessing in him that authority which be- longs only to God. So that, in what- ever measure these men may have been acquainted with Christ, they clearly acted on the principle of their being stewards rather than proprietors, hold- ing possessions at the will of the Al- mighty, and prepared to give them up so soon as he should ask them. It was enough for them to receive an intima- tion that God had employment for that which he had deposited with them, and instantly they surrendered it, as though no longer their own. Were they not herein a great exam- ple to ourselves! Every one of us is ready to acknowledge in God the uni- versal proprietor, to confess, at least with the mouth, liiat every good, which is delivered into our keeping, '' cometh down from the Father of lights." The infidelity on such points is almost ex- clusively a practical infidelity: there may be some, but they are few, so blinded by sensuality, or besotted with pride, that they will boldly ascribe to their own skill what they acquire, and speak and think as though there were no ruler above who both has bestowed and may reclaim every tittle of their possessions. It is virtually little more than acknowledging the existence of God, to acknowledge that the universe, in its every department, is subject to thp control and disposal of its Maker; that he orders, with absolute authority, the portion of every creature, dimin- ishing or augmenting it, making it per- manent or variable, at his own good pleasure. And if the acknowledgment were any thing more than in theory, it would follow that men, conscious of holding their property in trust, would strive to employ it in the service of the actual owner, and be ready to part with it, on his indicating the least wish for its removal. But here, alas, it is that the infidelity comes into action ; and men, who are most frank with the confession of not being their own, and of holding nothing which belongs not to another, will be as tenacious of pos- sessions as though there were no su- perior title ; as reluctant to give up any portion, even when God himself asks, as though stewardship implied no accountableness. The owners of the ass and the colt proceeded on the right principle, and should therefore be taken as examples by ourselves. They used the animals for their own pleasure or profit, so long as they were not required by God, but surrendered them, without a moment's hesitation, so soon as they heard " The Lord hath need of them." And this should be the case with every one on THE LOWLY ERRAND. 541 winm God has bestowed earthly wealth. There is nothing to forbid the temper- ate enjoyment of that wealth — but it is held only in trust; and a due portion should be cheerfully given up, whenso- ever there is a clear intimation of its being needed by the Lord. Ancient prophecy was to be accomplished. The Kedeemer had to make his way into Je- rusalem, as the King of Zion, " meek, and sitting upon an ass, and a colt the foal of an ass." Here was the need : and he^ whose are " the cattle on a thousand hills," and who could have commanded the attendance of swarm- ing troops of the beasts of the field, chose to send to men who had but scanty possessions; and these men, admitting at once his rights, gladly surrendered what they owned at his bidding. Ancient prophecy has yet to be accomplished : the Redeemer has to make his way into districts of the earth which have not bowed at his sceptre, into households and hearts which have closed themselves against him. And though he might command the legions of angels, and cause a mi- raculous proclamation of his Gospel, it pleases him to work through human instrumentality — not indeed that the instrumentality can be efiectual, ex- cept through his blessing, but that it is not his course to produce results, save through the use of instituted means. Here then is the need : and it may just- ly be said, that, through every state- ment of spiritual destitution, every ac- count how souls are perishing through "lack of • knowledge," and how the kingdom of darkness is opposing it- self to the kingdom of light, there comes a message to the owners of riches, " The Lord hath need of them." But who will say that the message ordinarily finds that ready compliance which followed it when delivered by the first disciples of Christ ! Indeed, it will be the commencement of a new era in the church, when to show that "the Lord hath need" of this or that thing, shall suffice to procure its cheerful bestowment. Yet assuredly this is the just ground on which to rest every charitable appeal: let it be an appeal in the cause of God and of Christ, and it is not so much a request for liberality as a demand for justice. The Almighty does but ask his own: you may sin in withholding, but can claim no merit for surrendering. Neither is it exclusively as pointing out the tenure by which we hold our possessions, that there is a lesson in Christ's message to the owners of the ass and the colt. It is a message which should be heard through every afflictive dispensation ; for, in one way or another, it may be said that the Lord has need of whatsoever he with- draws from our keeping. If he strip us of property, it maj"^ be that we had not made a right use of that property ; and, having need of it, he has trans- ferred it to another who will be more faithful in his stewardship. Or, if we be not chargeable with the abuse of our trust, we may be sure that God has taken the earthly riches, in order I to attach us more closely to heaven- ly : and he may be said to have needed what he took, if he took it that he might carry on his great work of mor- al discipline. It is thus also with the removal of what we love and miss more than riches — kinsmen, and children, and friends : " The Lord hath need of them." Perhaps they hav^ been fully prepared for the glories of heaven : there were places in the celestial temple Avhich awaited them as occu- pants; and God, with reverence be it spoken, could no longer spare them from his presence. Oh, there is many a death-bed, over which angels might be thought to whisper the words now before us; and if they who stand round the bed should be tempted to ask, "Why is one so excellent to be taken 1 why are we to be parted from so rare an example of all that is most precious and beautiful in religion 1" the best answer might be, " The Lord hath need of him :" the light which has shone so brilliantly below, is now wanted to add to the radiance above. And even if we may not venture on such a statement as this, we may still say that the dead are taken, that the livino" may be warned : God breaks our earthly ties, to lead us to the commencing or strengthening friend- ship with himself; and there can be nothing strained or exaggerated in the saying that " the Lord hath need " of that which he removes, that he may correct and benefit his creatures. 542 THE LOWLY ERKAND. In how many wajrs then, and through how many voices, is the message syl- labled, which Christ sent to them whose property he required. Heark- en for it, and it will come to you through all the wants of your fellow- men, through the prevalence of igno- rance, through the pressure of indi- gence, through the accidents, sorrows, and bereavements of life. In a thou- sand ways is God saying to us that he has need of our property, need of our talents, need of our time, need of those whom we love, and of that which we cherish. Shall we refuse him"? or, where we have no option, shall we yield up grudgingly, in place of cheer- fully, what he requires 1 Nay, let us take pattern from men to whom pro- bably but little had been intrusted, but who readily gave up that little so soon as it was needed for the service of God. It may be, that we are often inclined to excuse ourselves from imi- tating scriptural examples, by plead- i)ig that the saints of old were of extraordinary character, and in extra- ordinary circumstances, and cannot therefore with justice be set before us as models. If I hold up the patriarch Job to those on whom sorrow presses hard, and bid them observe how, when children were dead, and possessions destroyed, this man of God meekly said, " The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away: blessed be the name of the Lord " — Yes, is the feeling, if not the answer; but Job was no com- mon man: his name has passed into a proverb : and it is not to be expected that such as we should emulate his marvellous patience. If again, when I would urge men to sacrifices and en- durances in the cause of Christ and his Gospel, I dwell on the example of St. Paul, who counted " all things but loss," that he might know and serve the Redeemer, "in journeyings often, in weariness and painfulness, in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in cold and nakedness" — Yes, is the sentiment, if not the expression; but St. Paul has never had his equal; the wonder of his own and every succeed- ing generation, we may not think to reach so lofty a standard. Thus there is a way of evading the force of scriptural examples : men imagine circumstances of distinction between themselves and eminent saints, and give those circumstances in apo- logy for coming far behind them in piety. Let us then learn from the mean and unknown, of whom we may not plead that they were separated from us by any thing rare in endowment or position. Men who are reluctant to part with property, that it may be em- ployed in the cause of God; parents who would withhold their children from missionary work, or murmur at their being transplanted from earth to heaven ; sufferers, to whom is allotted one kind or another of afflictive dis- pensation, and who rebel under the chastisement, as though it were not for good — come ye all, and learn, if not from exalted persons such as Job and St. Paul, yet from the owners of the ass and the colt which Christ sent for, when designing his last entry to Jeru- salem. There is virtually the same message to every one of you as was brought to these poor and unknown individuals. The motive to your sur- rendering what is asked, or bearing what is imposed, is precisely the same as was urged upon them. And they will rise up in the judgment and con- demn you, if, with all your superior advantages — the advantages of Chris- tianity above Judaism, of an imperfect over an introductory dispensation — you show yourselves less compliant than they were with a summons from the universal Proprietor. Christ, who knoweth the heart, could reckon on readiness, so soon as the owners should be told of his requiring the ass and the colt. May he reckon on the same with usl Ah, let us, when we go hence, consider what we have which God may speedily require at our hands ; let us search, and see whether we are prepa- red to resign it, when asked for by God — be it wealth, or child, or honor, or friend — and let us observe how re- luctance is rebuked now, and will be witnessed against hereafter, by the wil- lingness of the owners of the ass and the colt, of whom Christ could affirm, ''Say ye, the Lord hath need of them, and straightway they will send them." We have thus considered the inci- dents to which our text has respect, with reference to Christ himself, to his disciples, and to the owners of the ass and the colt. We have endeavored to THE LOWLY ERRAMD. 54.3 show you that our Lord added to the j witness for his being the Messiah, by ' the prescience and power disphiyed; ^ and that the manner of the display ; was admirably appropriate to the wants j and circumstances of his followers. I We have set before you the disciples [ as worthy of your close imitation, in ■ that they unhesitatingly obeyed where | they might have plausibly objected, [ and were as ready for a menial service as for the most honored and illustri- | oils. And then the owners have been ' considered, as exemplifying a great principle of which we are apt to lose sight — the principle, that, in the mat- ter of our possessions, we are not proprietors, but stewards, and should therefore hold ourselves ready to part with what we have, so soon as we know that it is needed by the Lord. They are great lessons, and striking truths, which have thus been derived and illustrated from our text and the context. But, before we conclude, let us dwell for a moment on the vast ho- nor given to humble individuals, in that they were allowed to contribute to the progress of the Savior, when, accom- plishing ancient prediction, he advan- ced towards the city where he was to sacrifice himself. I think, that, if the men saw the triumphal procession, the multitude spreading their garments, strewing the way with branches, and burdening the air with hosannahs, they must have felt an elation of heart, that their beasts should have been chosen for a personage whom thousands thus combined to reverence and honor. The noblest and wealthiest might justly have exulted, had they been allowed to aid the glorious advaiice : but, as though to show how the mean may serve him, and how their service shall be owned, Christ openly used the pro- perty of the poor, on the single occa- sion when there was any thing like pomp in his earthly career. And why should we not gather from this, that, when he shall come in pow- er and great majesty — not the lowly man, entering Jerusalem in a triumph which was itself almost humiliation, but the ''King of kings, and Lord of lords" — he will acknowledge and ex- hibit the services rendered him by the poor and despised, as well as those wrought by the great ones of the earth \ It ought to encourage them who have but little in their power, that it was " the foal of an ass " on which Christ rode, and that this foal in all probabi- lity, belonged to the poor. We may all do something towards that sublime consummation for which the church watches and prays, when, not from a solitary city, and not from a single and inconstant people, but from ten thou- sand times ten thousand voices, from every clime, and land, and tongue, shall be heard the shout, " Hosanna to the Son of David: blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord ; ho- sanna in the highest." " The Lord hath need " of the strength of the mighty and of the feebleness of the weak ; of the abundance of the rich and of the mites of the impoverished; and if we will go forth to his help, if each, ac- cording to his means and ability, will strive to accelerate the day when " all shall know the Lord, from the least to the greatest," we may be sure that our labor shall not be forgotten, when " the Son of man shall come in his glory, and all the holy angels with him." Oh, if there be some of whom it shall then be told that they contributed the rich I and the costly towards preparing the way for the advancing Kedeemer, of ! others it may be said that they had not I the rich and the costly to give, but that, with a willing heart, they offered i their best, though that best was only I the refuse and mean. And we do not [ merely say that the poorness of the j gift shall not cause it to be overlook- I ed : the inconsiderable oliering may ! be shown to have been as instrumental j as the magnificent in furthering the progress of the Gospel : he who, when 1 he would accomplish prophecy, enter- i ed Jerusalem, not in the rich man's chariot, but on the poor man's ass, may prove that he went forwards to his kingdom, as much through what the feeble wrought in their weakness, as what the mighty efTectcd in their strength. Let this encourage all, that they he not weary in well-doing. May all make a practical use of the great doctrine of Christ's second coming. Anticipate that coming : realize your own per- sonal share in that coming. He will come "to take account of his servants" — are you ready with your account 1 544 NEUEJIIAH BEfOllE ARTAXERXE3. have you improved your talents'? have you acted up to your ability in further- j ing the great cause of truth upon earth"? | Let none think himself either excused I or injured by insignificance. There was, I you remember, a servant to whom but j one talent had been given; and he was i bound hand and foot and cast to "out- j er darkness," because that one had j been hidden, when it might have been : put " to the exchangers." There were men who perhaps owned little more than an ass and a colt, but they were ready to surrender what they had, when needed by Christ; and lo, they were honored to the effecting what prophe- cy had announced in one of its loftiest strains, they were instrumental to the bringing and displaying her King to " the dauQ-hter of Zion." SERMON XIII. NEHEMIAH BEFORE ARTAXERXES. " I saitl unto the king, Let the king live for ever : %A'hy should not my countenance be sad, vi'hen tlie cit}', the place of my fathers' sepulchres, lieth waste, and the gates thereof are consumed \«ith fire? Then the king- said unto me, For what dost tliou make request '! So I prayed to the God of heaven. And I said unto the king, If it please the king, and if thy servant have found favor in thy sight, that thou wouldest send me unto Judah, unto the city of my fathers' sepulchres, that I may build it." — Nehc- miah, 2 : 3, 4, 5. When the seventy years had expir- ed, during which God, in just judg- ment for their many offences, had sen- tenced the Jews to captivity in Baby- lon, he graciously remembered his pro- mise, and raised them up a deliverer in the person of Cyrus. In the first year of that monarch's reign, " that the word of the Lord, spoken by the mouth of Jeremiah, might be accom- plished," a royal edict was issued, which not only permitted the captives to return to their own land, but enjoin- ed that every facility should be afford- ed to their march, and every assistance rendered them in the rebuilding their city and temple. It does not appear that immediate and general advantage was taken of this edict ; the Jews did not rise as one man, under the influence of a de- sire to resettle themselves in Pales- tine. And this is little to be wondered at, if you remember the utter desola- tion in which Jerusalem and Judea then lay, the arduousness and perils of the journey, and the fact that the captivity had continued so long that few, and those only men fast advanc- ing in years, had ever seen the land of i their fathers, or were bound to it by the ties of remembrance or acquaint- ' ance. No marvel if there was some- thing of pause and hesitation, if piety and patriotism did not instantly nerve , all the exiles to abandon the country I which had almost become theirs by i adoption, and to seek a home where, i though they had once been possessors, j they would only find themselves stran- ■ gers. But God purposed the restora- I tion of the people, and therefore, as ^ we read, he raised the spiiit of " tije chief of the fathers of Judah and Ben- jamin, and the priests and the Levites, , to go up to build the house of the ^'E^£MIAH BEFOEE AKT.\.\EKXES. 515 Lord which is at Jerusalem." And soon, under the guidance of Zerubba- bel, there went forth a mixed compa- ny of the old and the young-, bearing with them not only their own riches, but " the vessels of the house of the Lord :" obstacles were surmounted, dangers escaped, through the assist- ance and protection of God ; and in due time the wanderers reached the spot, hallowed by so many magnificent recollections, and which was yet to be the scene of mightier things than past days had witnessed. But the difficulties, as you well re- member, of the Jews did not terminate with their arrival in Judea ; their city and temple were to be rebuilded ; and in this great work, they found invete- rate adversaries in the Samaritans, who had been settled in the land by Esarhaddon, and who, professing a mixed and' spurious religion, wished not the revival of the pure worship of Jehovah. The opposition of these ad- versaries was so far successful, that Cyrus, the patron of the Jews, being dead, " the work of the house of God " was made to cease " until the second year of the reign of Darius." Then, however, it recommenced, the pro- phets Haggai and Zechariah stirred up the people, and God inclined the new monarch to re-enact the decree which had been issued by Cyrus. Under these altered circumstances, Jerusa- lem had soon again a temple, which, if inferior to that of Solomon in state- iiness of structure, and richness of adornment, was yet prophetically de- clared destined to far higher dignity, inasmuch as it should receive the pro- mised Messiah : " The glory of this latter house shall be greater tlian of the former, saith the Lord of Hosts ; and in this place will I give peace, saith the Lord of Hosts." But when the temple had thus risen, and the inspired men were dead whom God had raised np for the instruc- tion and encouragement of the people, there appears to have been great un- settlement in both the civil and ec- clesiastical policy' of the Jews; as a nation, their position was made prcca- J rious by surrounding enemies and in- ternal confusion ; whilst, as the people of God, they had mingled themselves j with the people of the lands, and thereby exposed themselves to his wrath. In this crisis, Ezra was rais- ed up, " A ready scribe in the law of Moses:" having obtained sanction and assistance from king Arlaxerxes, he visited Jerusalem that he might " teach in Israel statutes and judgments." It would seem to have been almost ex- clusively to religious matters that Ez- ra directed his attention ; he accom- plished a great work in dissolving the unlawful connexions which the Jews had formed with the people of the land; but he did little or nothing to- wards reinstating his country in the po- sition which it had once held amongst nations. Jerusalem appears to have remained without defences, exposed to the assault of every enemy, and liable at any moment — so ill was it provided with the munitions of war — to be re- duced to the ruins from which it had so lately, and as yet so imperfectly, sprung. Here we come to the actions of an- other worthy, whose history furnishes the latest canonical records of the Jews till the days of our Lord. When about twelve years had elapsed from the events commemorated in the close of the book of Ezra, we find a Jew, named Nehemiah, residing in Shushan, the capital of Persia, and filling the office of cup-bearer to Artaxerxes the king. His father, Hachaliah, was pro- bably one of them who had declined to take advantage of the decree of Cy- rus, preferring to remain where he had made himself a home, to return- ing to a country where he must feel himself an alien. The son, Nehemiah, occupying a post of great honor in the Persian court, may never have had an opportunity of visiting Jerusalem, but his heart yearned towards the land and city of his fathers ; with the spirit of a true patriot, he sought eagerly for information as to the condition of his countrymen, and longed to be in- strumental in advancing their prosper- ity. The information came : Hanani, one of his brethren, and certain men of Judah, reached Shushan from Jeru- salem, perhaps disheartened by the difficulties which they had experien- ced, and accounting it better to re- settle in the land in which they had been captives. They gave Nehemiah a melancholy, though not, as it would 69 546 KEIIIiJIXAU BEFORE AUTAiEKXKS. seem, an exaggerated account. " The remnant that are left of the captivity there in the province are in great affliction and reproach ; the wall of Jerusalem also is broken down, and the gates thereof are burned with fire." And now it was that the man of piety appeared in the man of patriot- ism ; and admirably does Nehemiah stand forth as an example to them who profess to have at heart their coun- try's good, and to be stricken by its calamities. He did not immediately call a meeting of the Jews, to consult what might be done for their afflicted countrymen. He did not gather round him a knot of politicians, that plans might be discussed, and assistance levied. But, as one who knew in ca- lamity the offspring of sin, and in the Almighty the single patron of the distressed, Nehemiah " sat down, and wept, and mourned certain days, and fasted, and prayed before the God of heaven." But Nehemiah did not count his part done when he had thus, in all hu- mility, confessed the sins of his nation, and entreated the interference of God. He was not one of them who substi- tute prayer for endeavor, though he would not make an endeavor until he had prepared himself by prayer. For- tified through humiliation and suppli- cation, he now sought to take advan- tage of his position with the king, and, true patriot as he was, to render that position useful to his countrymen. Nearly four months elapsed from his interview with Hanani, before an op- portunity occurred for his addressing Artaxerxes. There was probably a rotation in the office of cup-bearer, which obliged him to await his turn ; and it was at the hazard of life to any one to enter, unbidden, into the pre- sence of the Persian monarch. But in the month of Nisan he stood before Artaxerxes, and he " took up the wine, and gave it unto the king." He was now, however, heavy at heart, and the handing the sparkling draught to the monarch at his banquet, ill assorted with a mind distracted and sad. He had not the skill, indeed he could not have had the wish, to disguise his feelings, and afTect a cheerfulness Avhich he did not experience. It was his object to attract the attention of the king ; to do this he had only to allow his countenance to betray what, perhaps, he could hardly have forced it to conceal — for we are expressly told that he had never "beforetinie been sad in his presence" — so that the altered demeanor was immediate- ly observed, and its reason demanded with all the quickness of eastern sus- picion. And here it is that we reach the very simple, but touching, narration of our text. Nehemiah was sore afraid, when Artaxerxes, struck with the sor- row depicted on his features, impe- riously asked the cause of the too evi- dent grief. It was the moment for which he had wished, yea, for which he had prayed, yet, now that it had come, he felt so deeply what con- sequences hung upon a word, that he was almost unmanned, and could scarce venture to unburden his heart. He spake, however, and, first offering the customary wish on behalf of the king, asked how he could be other than sad, whilst the city, and the place of the sepulchres of his fathers, lay desolate and waste, and the gates thereof were consumed with fire 1 Upon this, Artaxerxes demanded what request he had to make ; and Nehe- miah, though his answer had of course to be immediately given, gave it not till he had strengthened himself by si- lent petition to one greater than the king; he "prayed to the God of hea- ven," and then entreated permission to go unto Judah, and build up the city of the sepulchres of his fathers. The request was successful, though the passage, which we have selected as our subject of discourse, does not require us to refer to subsequent events in the history of Nehemiah. There is enough in this passage itself to require and repay the most serious attention j and we have but engaged you with a somewhat lengthened review of fore- going circumstances, that you might the better appreciate what is here re- corded of the conduct of Nehemiah. The two prominent facts on which we wish to seize, do indeed widely differ the one from the other, so that, in making them the subject of a single discourse, we cannot hope to preserve that continuousness of thought which NEHEMIAH BEFORE ARTAXERXES. 51-7 IS generally to be desired in addresses | from the pulpit. But forasmuch as the ! facts come together in Scripture, it I must be every way right that they be | gathered, as we now propose, into one | and the same sermon. The facts are I these ; the first, that it was as the city j of his fathers' sepulchres that Jeru- ' salem excited the solicitude of Ne- i hemiah ; the second, that Nehemiah \ found a moment before answering the | king, to ofler petition to the Almighty, i Let us have your close attention to j these very interesting, tliouah uncon- nected topics; our lirst topic is, the! peculiar plea which Nehemiah urges j with Artaxerxes; our second, the eja- j cuiatory prayer which went up from ! Nehemiah to God. ; Now Jerusalem had not yet received I its most illustrious distinction, for- j nsmuch as " the fulness of time " had j not arrived, and, therefore, there had I not yet been transacted within her cir- j cuits the wondrous scenes of the re- j demption of the world. She was re- | served for more stupendous and start- ; ling things than past days had witness- I ed, fraught though her history had | been with miracles and prodigy : her ■ streets were to be trodden by the in- ! carnate God, and on the summit of Moriah was the promised seed of the 1 woman, bruised himself in the heel, to | accomplish the first prophecy, and j bruise the serpent's head. Neverthe- , Jess, to every man, especially to a de- | vout Jew, there were already reasons ; in abundance why thought should turn ■ to Jerusalem, and centre there as on a | place of peculiar sanctity and interest. There, had a temple been reared, '^' magnifical " beyond what earth be- foretime had seen, rich with the mar- ble and the gold, but richer in the visi- ble tokens of the presence of the uni- j versal Lord. There had sacrifices been j continually oflcred, whose efiicacy was manifest even to them who discerned not their typical import, forasmuch as at times they prevailed to the arrest t of temporal visitations, and pestilence was dispersed by the smoke of the ob- lation. There, had monarchs reigned of singular and wide-spread renown ; the fame of one, at least, had gone out to the ends of the earth, and nations had flocked to hear the wisdom which fell from his lips. There, had been | enacted a long series of judgments and deliverances; the chastisements of heaven following so visibly upon wick- edness, and its protection on repen- tance, that the most casual beliolder might have certified himself that the supreme Being held the reins of go- vernment, and was carrying out the laws of a rigid retribution. Hence, it might easily have been accounted for why Nehemiah should have looked with thrilling interest to j Jerusalem, even if you had kept out of sight his close connexion with those I who were striving to reinstate it in I strength, and had not supposed any I travelling onwards of his mind to the wonders with which prophecy vet : peopled its walls. But the observable I thing is, that Nehemiah fixes not on any of these obvious reasons, when he would explain, or account for, his in- terest in Jerusalem. He describes the city ; but he describes it only as "the place of his fathers' sepulchres;" and this he insists upon, as of itself suffi- cient to justify his urgency, pleading it alike when he would explain why his countenance was sad, and when he stated to the king the favor which he sought at his hands. Before he offer- ed his silent prayer to God, and after- wards, when he might be supposed to have received fresh wisdom from above, he spake, you observe, of the city merely as of the place of the se- pulchres of his fathers, as though no stronger reason could be given why he should wish to rebuild it ; none, at least, whose force was more felt by himself, or more likely to be con fessed by the king. The language of Nehemiah is too express and too per- sonal, to allow of our supposing that he adopted it merely from thinking that it would prevail with Artaxerxes : if there were truthfulness in this wor- thy, it was the desecration of his fa- thers' sepulchres which chiefly dis- quieted him; it was the wish of re- storing these sepulchres Avhich mainly urged to his visiting Jerusalem. Pon- der these facts for a few moments ; they are full, we think, of beauty and interest. If we may argue from the expres- sions of Nehemiah, then, it is a melan- choly sight — that of a ruined town, a shattered navy, or a country laid waste 548 NEHEMIAH BEFOuE ^SRTAXERXES. by famine and war ; but there is a more melancholy sight still, that of a church- yard, where sleeps the dust of our kin- dred, desecrated and destroyed, whe- ther by violence or neglect. You know, tliat if poetry or fiction would place its hero in a position to draw upon himself the pity and S3rmpathy of the reader, there is nothing in which it more de- lights that in the bringing him, after long wanderings as an exile, to the scenes where his childhood was pass- ed, and making him there find tbe home of his ancestry deserted and ru- ined. And as the lonely man makes painfully his way through the scene of desolation, the wild winds syllabling, as it would seem, the names of other days, there is felt to be a depth and sacredness in his misfortunes, which must insure his being the object of a more than common compassion. But, according to Nehemiah, there is another position which is yet more deserving of sympathy. Let us sup- pose a man to have paid the last sad offices to parents whom he justly re- vered ; he has laid them in a decent grave, and, with filial piety, erected a simple monument over their remains. And then he has gone to distant lands, and worn away many years in separa- tion from all kinsmen, though not with- out frequent turnings of the heart to the home of young days. At length he revisits his native shore, and finds, as in such cases is commonly found, that of the many friends whom he had left, scarcely one remains to welcome him back. Disappointed at not being known by the living, he seeks the companion- ship of the dead; he hastens to the village churchyard where his parents sleep; they will speak to him from the grave, and he shall no longer seem lonely. But he can hardly find the grave; the monuments are levelled; with difficulty can he assure himself that the tombs themselves have not been profaned, and the bones of the dead sacrilegiously disturbed. Oh, will not this be the most heartbreaking thing of all 1 There is something so ungenerous in forgetfulness or con- tempt of the dead — they cannot speak for themselves; they so seem, in dying, to bequeath their dust to survivors, as though they would give affection some- thing to cherish, and some kind office still to perform ; that, from graves wantonly neglected or invaded, there might always appear to issue the pa- thetic complaint, " Vv''e have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against us." And we cannot but think that the feelings of the man whom we have thus carried, not to the ruined mansion, but to the ruined mausoleum of his ancestry, would be a full explanation why Neiiemiah laid such emphasis on the fact which he selected, when he sought to move Artaxerxes; why he omitted all reference to Jerusalem in its. magniMcence, to the thrones of mo- narchs, the schools of prophets,' the altars of sacrifice ; and simply said, " Why should not my countenance be sad, when the city, the place of my fathers' sepulchres, lieth waste, and the gates thereof are consumed with fire 1" We do not, however, suppose that the strong marks of respect for the dead, which occur so frequently in the Bible, are to be thoroughly accounted for by the workings of human feelings and affections. We must have'recourse to the great doctrine of the resurrec- tion of the body, if we would fully un- derstand why the dying Joseph "gave commandment concerning his bones," and Nehemiah offered no description of Jerusalem, but that it was the place of the sepulchres of his fathers. And there is no need here for entering into any inquiry as to the degree of ac- quaintance with the doctrine of the re- surrection which was possessed under the old dispensation. If you find lan- guage used which cannot be adequately interpreted but by supposing a know- ledge of the body's resurrection, it must rather become us to infer that men were then informed of this truth, than to conclude, on any other grounds, that it was altogether hidden. But when you bring into the account the doctrine of the resurrection, it is no longer merely as a man of strong natural feelings, but as an ardent be- liever in the loftiest truths, that the supposed visiter to the desecrated churchyard might be confounded and overcome. The doctrine of the resur- rection throws, as you must all admit, a sacredness round the remains of the dead, because it proves, that, though we have committed the body to the NEHEMIAU BEFORE ARTAXERXES. 549 IJC ground, " ashes to ashes, dust to dust," that body is reserved for nobh; allot- ments, destined to reappear in a loftier scene, and discharge more glorious functions. It were a light spirit which should not be overawed amid the ruins of a temple, which should recognize nothing solemn in the mouldering piles which it knew to have once canopied the more immediate presence of God ; especially if it further knew, that, on some approaching day, the ruins would be reinstated in symmetrj^ and strength, lorming again a structure whose walls should be instinct with Deity, and from wlrose recesses, as from awful shrines, should issue the voice of the Eternal. The dead body is that fallen temple : consecrated upon earth as the habita- tion of the Holy Ghost, it decays only that it may be more gloriouslj'' rebuilt, and that God may dwell in it for ever above. Therefore is it no slight impie- ty to show contempt or neglect of the dead. It is contempt or neglect of a sanctuary ; and how can this be shown but with contempt or neglect of the Being to whom it is devoted 1 And there is yet more to be said ; the doctrine of the resurrection is the crowning doctrine of revelation; Christ was "raised again for our justiiica- tion :" '' if the dead rise not, then is not Christ raised ; and if Christ be not raised, your faith is vain, ye are yet in your sins. Then they also which are i fallen asleep in Christ are perished." j He, therefore, who would forget, make light of, or deny the doctrine of the \ resurrection, sets himself against no j solitary article of the faith ; it is chris- j tianity in its integrity which is at slake ; [ it is all that is comforting, all that is j saving in its tenets, which is displaced j or disputed. He, on the other hand, j who is earnest in defence of the doc- I trine of the resurrection, and eager to | show that he values it as well as be- j lieves, does not, therefore, confine him- j self to a single truth of our holy reli- gion : the sufficiency of the atonement, \ the completeness of redemption, the : pardon of every sin, the opening of the kingdom of heaven to all believers, these he sees written, as they nowhere else are, in that cfeneral emptying of the sepulchres which lie is taught to an- ticipate — these are preached to him most convincingly by the trumpet ofi the archangel, whose peal already falls on the watchful ear of faith. Then the well-kept churchyard, with its various monuments, each inscribed with lines not more laudatory of the past than hopeful of tiie future, what is it but the public testimony to all tliat is precious in Christianity, forasmuch as it is the public testimony tliat the dead shall live again ] Whereas, if tablets be de- faced, graves desecrated, and the sol- emn enclosure surrendered to insult and neglect, it is not merely that the dead are dishonored, and that violence is thus done to the best feelings of our nature ; it is that great slight is thrown on all which, as immortal beings, we are most bound to hold dear, a great acknowledgment apparently withdrawn of truths without which " we are of all men most miserable." It is easy and specious to enlarge on the folly of pay- ing honor to the prey of the worm, conveying with so much parade to the grave that which is turning into a mass of corruption, and then, perhaps, erect- ing a stately cenotaph to perpetuate the name of a certain portion of dust. And satire may readily point hitter and caustic lines, as the corpse of the own- er of princely estates is borne along to the ancient mausoleum, in all the gloomy magnificence which distin- guishes the obsequies of the great ; and ask, with a sort of cutting severi- ty, whether it be not almost like up- braiding the dead, to pour this stern gorgeoiisness round the most humbling of earthly transactions'! But we have no sympathy whatsoever with this com- mon feeling, that there should be no- thing of solemn pomp in consigning the human body to ihc grave. We miirht have, if we knew nothing of a resurrection. But not whilst we be- lieve in the general Easter of this crea- tion. Not whilst we believe that the grave is but a temporary habitation, and that what is " sown a natural bo- dy" is to be "raised a spiritual." The funeral procession attests, and does homage to, the doctrine of the rcKur- rcction. It is not in honor of the body as mouldering into dust that we would have decent rites, or even, where con- sistent with rank, a sumptuous cere- monial attendinir its interment ; but in honor of the body as destined to come forth gloriously and indissolubly recon- 550 NEHEMIAH BEFORE ARTy\ XERXES. structecl. We have no affection for the proud monument, if it were only to mark where the foul worm has ban- queted ; but we look with pleasure on the towering marble, as indicating a spot where ''the trump of God" shall cause a sudden and mysterious stir, and Christ win a triumph as '' the Re- surrection and the life." Then suppose Nehemiah acquainted, as we are, with the doctrine of the re- surrection, and we do but iind in the emphasis laid upon the fact, that Jeru- salem was the place of his fathers' se- pulchres, the testimony of his belief in tlie truths of redemption, and of his desire to make and keep those truths known to the world. "I cannot bear," he seems to say, " that my fathers, who once witnessed from their graves to the most illustrious of facts, should be silent in the dust. I long to give again !i thrilling voice to their remains: I would people their cemeteries with heralds of futurity. I may well be down- cast when I think of their monuments as levelled with the earth 5 not because I ostentatiously desire that proud mar- bles may certify the greatness of my parentage, but because I would fain that men should thence draw evidence of general judgment and eternal life. I mourn not so much that Jerusalem has ceased to be a queen among cities ; I long not so much that she should rise from her ashes, to be again imperial in beauty: I mourn that, her desecrated graves speak no longer of a resurrec- tion ; I long that, through respect for the dead, she may be again God's wit- ness of the coming immortality. Oh, why should not my countenance be sad, when the city, the place of my fathers' sepulchres, lieth waste \ If thy servant have found favor in thy sight, O king, send me unto the city of my fathers' sepulchres, that I may build it." Now it is a wholly difierent, but not a less interesting subject, to which we have to give the remainder of our dis- course. We are now to detach our minds from Nehemiah pleading for his fathers' sepulchres, and fix them upon Nehemiah addressing himself to God in ejaculatory prayer. It is among the most 'emirkable statements of the Bi- ble, " So I prayed to the God of hea- ven," coming, as it does, betw^een the question of the king, "For what do?t I thou make request 1" and the answer I of Nehemiah, " That thou u^ouldest send me unto the city of my fathers' ' sepulchres." There is no interval of I time: Nehemiah has had no opportu- nity of retiring, that he might present supplications to God. He has not knelt down — he has given no outward sign, unless perhaps a momentary uplifting of the eye, of holding communion witli an invisible being ; and nevertheless, there, in the midst of that thronged and brjlliant court, and in the seconds that might elapse between a question and its answer, he has prayed unto God for direction and strength, and received, as we may believe, assistance from hea- ven. No one can well doubt what it was for which Nehemiah prayed: it may justly be supposed to have been, that God would aid him in preferring his request, and dispose Artaxerxes to grant it. And when you observe that the request appears to have been at once successful — for it pleased the icing to send Nehemiah, and to grant him royal letters, which might facili- tate the repairs of Jerusalem — you must allow that prayer was not only offered, but answered, in the moment which seemed too brief for all but a thought. Under how practical and comforting a point of view does this place the truth of the omnipresence of God. It is a high mystery, one which quickly bewilders the understanding, and wea- ries even the imagination, that of God being every where present, incapable, from his nature, of leaving this place and passing to that, but always and equally occupying every spot in im- mensity, so as never to be nearer to us, and never further from us, continu- ally at our side, and yet continually at the side of every other being in the measureless universe. Yet, with all its mysteriousness, this is no merely sub- lime but barren speculation, no subject to exercise the mind rather than bene- fit the heart. It should minister won- drously to our comfort, to know that, whether we can explain it or not, we are always, so to speak, in contact with God; so that in the crowd and in the solitude, in the retirement of the closet, the bustle of business, and the privacies of home, by day and by night, he is alike close at hand, near enough for every whisper, and plente- KEIIEMIAn BEFonE AKTAXEIlAnS. 551 OU5 enough for every want. It is not \ so with a human patron or friend, who, , whatever be his power, and iiis desire to use it on our behalf, cannot always j be with us, to observe each necessity, and appoint each supply. We have to ' seek out this friend or patron, when i we require his help: probably he is j distant from us when the most need- ed ; and we have to send a message, | which brings no reply till the season have passed when it might be of avail. '■ How different with God! in less time [ than I can count, the desire of my ■ heart may be transmitted to this invisi- \ ble Guardian and Guide, find gracious audience, and bring down upon me the blessing which I need. ; • If there be opportunity, then truly j it may become me to seek audience I with greater and more palpable so- , lemnity, prostrating myself reverently j before him, as the all glorious King, i and giving devout expression to my , wishes and wants. But it is not indis- j pensable to the audience, that there | should be this outward prostration, and this set supplication. The heart lias but to breathe its desire, and God is acquainted with it so soon as form- ed, and may grant it, if he will, before the tongue could have given it utter- ance. that there were in us more of that habit of prayer, which, as with Nehemiah, would not suffer us to make request to man, without first sending tip a silent petition to God. AVhen Scripture speaks of praying " without ceasing," and of " continuing instant in prayer," it is generally thought to prescribe what cannot be actually done, at least not by them who are necessa- rily much occupied with temporal con- cerns. And if there were no prayer but those most solemn and stated acts, when, whether in private, or in the pub- lic assembly, we set ourselves speciti- cally to the spreading our wants before our Father in heaven, these expres- sions of Holy Writ would have to be interpreted with certain restrictions, or would belong in their fulness to such only as might abstract themselves alto- gether from the world. But forasmuch as God is always so ready and able to hear that ejaculatory prayer, the sud- den utterance of the heart, when there is no place for the bending of the knee, and no time even for the motion of the lip, may obtain instant audience and answer, what is to prevent there being that devotional habit which shall fulhl the injunction of praying " without ceasing," even though, as with num- bers of our race, there be but few mo- ments in the day which, snatched from necessary toil, can be professedly con- secrated to communion with heaven? You have heard of, and are acquaint- ed with, public prayer, and private pray- er, and family prayer: but the prayer of which we now speak, ejaculatory prayer, differs from all these. As the name denotes, the heart should be as a bow, kept always strung, ready at any moment to launch prayer as an arrow; a dart which, if small, may yet go fast- er and further than the weightier im- plement of more labored attempt. The man of business, he need not enter on a single undertaking without prayer ; the mariner, he need not unfurl a sail without prayer ; the traveller, he need not face a danger without prayer ; the statesman, he need not engage in a de- bate without prayer ; the invalid, he need not try a remedy without prayer ; the accused, he need not meet an ac- cuser v/ithout prayer. Is it that all and each of these must make a clear scene, ask time for retirement, and be left for a season alone with the Almighty'? That were impossible : as with Nehe- miah, what is to be done must be done on the moment, and in the presence ! of fellow-men. And it may be done.. j Blessed be God for this privilege of j ejaculatory prayer, of silent, secret, in- i stantaneous petition! We may live Mt the foot of the mercy-seat, and yet be t immersed in merchandise, engrossed with occupation, or pursued bya crowd. W^c may hallow and enlighten every ! thing by prayer, though we seem, and ; are entjaoed from Inorninfr to night I with secular business, and thronged by eager adherents. We cannot be in a difficulty for which we have not time to ask guidance, in a peril so sudden that we cannot find a. guardian, in a I spot so remote that we may not people i it with supporters. Thought, whose rapid liight distances itself, moves but half as quick as prayer : earth to hea- ven, and heaven again to earth, the petition and the answer, both are fin- ished in that indivisible instant which . sufiices for the mind's passage through 552 infinite space. O that you may not neglect the privilege, that you may cultivate the habit, of ejaculatory pray- er ! and that you may, meditate on the example of Nehemiah. If I would in- cite you to habits of private devotion, I mii^ht sliow you Daniel in his cham- ber, "kneeling upon his knees three times a day." If I would commend to you the public gatherings of the church, I might remind you of what David has said, "A day in thy courts is better than a thousand." If I would inculcate the duty of family prayer, I might turn attention to Philemon, and " the church in his house." But, wish- ing to make you carry, as it were, the altar about with you — the fire ever burning, the censer ever ready, — wish- ing that you may resolve nothing, at- tempt nothing, face nothing, without prayer to God for his ever-mighty grace, I give you for a pattern Ne- hemiah — who, asked by Artaxerxes for what he made request, tells you, " So I prayed to the God of heaven, and I said unto the king, Send me unto Judah, the city of the sepulchres of my fathers." There is nothing that we need add in the way of concluding exhortation. The latter part, at least, of our subject has been so eminently practical, that we should fear to weaken the impres- sion by repetition. Only, if there be any thing sacred and touching in the sepulchres of our fathers; if the spot, where those dear to us sleep, seem haunted by their memory, so that it were like forgetting or insulting them to suffer it to be defiled, let us remem- ber that the best monument we can rear to the righteous is our copy of their excellence — not the record of their virtues graven on the marble or on the brass, but their example repeat- ed in our actions and habits. If with Nehemiah we would show respect to the dead, with Nehemiah let us strive to be useful to the living. Then, when sepulchres shall crumble, not through* human neglect, but because the Al- mighty bids them give back their prey, we may hope to meet our fathers in the triumph and the gloriousness of immortality. Our countenances shall not be sad, though " the place of their sepulchres lieth waste, and the gates thereof are consumed with fire," even with the last tremendous conflagra- tion ; we shall exult in knowing that they and we " have a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." SERMON XIV J ABE Z.* " And Jabez was more honorable than his brethren, and his mother called his name Jabez, tar- ing, Because I bare hitn with sorrow. And Jabez called on the God of Israel, saying, Oh that thou v/ouldest bless me indeed, and enlarge my coast, and that thine hand might be wi'.h rae, and that thou wouldest keep me from evil, that it may not grieve mc ! And God granted him that which he requested." — 1 Cbron. 4 : 9, 10. If we had to fix on a portion of Scrip- | Bibles without being much missed, we ture which might be removed from our should probably select the first nine ; :; r; z: ~ chapters of this first Book of Chroni- ♦ This Sermon was preached on ^'^ew Year s i„ « i r day and a collection was afterwards made i^ f'^' ^, "^^'^ '"'-^''^ of names, a cala- -aid'of a District Visiting Society. | iogue of genealogies ; the eye glances 553 rapidly over them, anci we are inclined lo hasten on to parts which may pre- sent something- more interesting and instructive. Yet what a startling, what an impressive thing, should be a record of names, a catalogue of o-enealoofies ! the chapters deserve the closest atten- tion, even if you keep out of sight their bearing on the descent and parentage of the Christ. It is a New Year's day sermon, this long list of fathers and their children. What are all these names which fill page after page ? The names of beings who were once as warm with life as ourselves; who moved upon the earth as we move now; who had their joys, their sor- rows, their hopes, their fears, their projects ; who thought, perhaps, as little of death as many of us, but who were sooner or later cut down, even as all now present shall be. They are the names of those who once lived; naj'-, they are names of those who still live; and this is perhaps even the harder to realize of the two. The dead are not dead ; they have but changed their place of sojourn. The mighty catalogue, which it wearies us to look at, is not a mere register of those who have been, of trees of the forest which, having flourished their appointed time, have withered or been cut down ; it is a register of existing, intelligent, sentient creatures; not one who has been inscribed on the scroll which, headed by Adam, looks like a leaf from the volume of eternity, has ever passed into nothingness : written amongst the living, he was written amongst the immortal; earth might receive his dust, but his spirit, which is more nearly himself, has never known even a suspension of being: thousands o^ years ago the man was; at this moment the man is ; thousands of years to come the man shall be. We repeat it — there is something very hard to realize in this fact, that all who have ever lived are still alive.* We talk of an over-peopled coun- try, even of an over-peopled globe — where and what, then, is the territory into which generation after generation has been swept, the home of the un- told myriads, the rich, the poor, the mighty, the mean, the old, the young, the righteous, the wicked, who, hav- ing once been reckoned amongst men, must everlastingly remain inscribed in the chronicles of the race ; inscribed in them, not as beings which have been, but as beings which are"? We have all heard of the dissolute man, said to have been converted through hearing the fifth chapter of the Book of Genesis, in which mention is made of the long lives of Adam, Sclh, Enos, ]\Iethuse- lah, and others, and each notice is concluded with the words, " and he died." It came appallingly home to the dissolute man, that the most pro- tracted life must end at last in death ; he could not get rid of the fact that life had to terminate, and he found no peace till he had provided that it might terminate well. But suppose that each notice had been concluded, as it might have been, with the words, " and he lives," would there not have been as much, would there not have been more to startle and seize upon the dissolute man ! " He died," does not necessa- rily involve a state of retribution ; "he lives," crowds the future with images of judgment and recompense. You hear men often say, in regard of some- thing which has happened, something which they have lost, something which they have done, or something which they have suflered, "Oh, it will be all the same a hundred years hence !" All the same a hundred years hence ! far enough from that. They speak as if they should certainly be dead a hun- dred years hence, and as if, therefore, it would then necessarily have become iinimportantwhat turn or course events may have taken. Whereas, they will be as truly alive a hundred years hence as they are now; and it will not be the same a hundred years lience whether this thing happened or that, this action were performed or that. For there is nothing so trivial but that it may aflcct man's future being: in the moral world, as in the physical, "no motion im- pressed by natural causes, or by human agency, is ever obliterated ;"* of what, * This fact is excellently treated in a striking sermon by Mr. Newman, on " tke Individuality of the SoiU." ♦ I?abbage,tlienintli Bridirewater Treatise.— "What a strange chaus is this wide atmosphere we breathe ! Every atom, impressed with good and with ill, retains at once the motions which 70 b'D-i; J AUT.Z. then, dare wc affirm, that, let it be as it may, it will be all the same a hun- dred, or a thousand, or a million j^ears hence 1 We recur, then, to what gave rise to these remarks ; the long lists of names which occupy the first nine chapters of this First Book of Chronicles. We affirm of these lists, that, without any comment, they furnish a most appro- priate sermon for New Year's day. Names of the dead, and yet names of the living, how should their mere enu- meration suggest the thought of our days upon earth being as a shadow, and yet of those days being days of probation for an everlasting existence! And what thought is so fitted to New Year's day, when, as we commence one of the great divisions of time, the very season might seem to speak of the rapid flight of life, and of the con- sequent duty of attempting forthwith preparation for the future 1 To read these chapters of the Chronicles, is like entering a vast cemetery where sleep the dead of many generations. But a cemetery is the place for a New Year's day meditation, seeing that we have just consigned the old year to the grave, with its joys, its sorrows, its plans, its events, its mercies, its sins. And are they dead, the multitudes whose names are inscribed on the gloomy walls and crowded stones of the cemetery, Gomer, and Javan, and Tubal, and Nahor 1 Nay, not so : their dust indeed is beneath our feet, but philosophers and sages have imparied to it, inixed and combined ui ten thousand ways v.'ith all that is worthless and base. The air itself is one vast library, en whose pages are for ever written all that man has ever said, or ever whis- pered. There, in their mutable but unerring characters, mixed with the earliest as well as | the latest sighs of mortality, stand for ever re- | corded, vows unredeemed, promises unfuitilled, 1 perpetuating, in the imited movements of each particle, the testimony of man's changeful will, i " If the Almighty stamped on the brow of the j earliest murderer the indelible and visible ! mark of his guilt, he has also established laws ' by which every succeeding criminal is not j less irrevocably chained lo the testimony o*" his ' crime ; for every atom of his mortal fraaie, j through whatever changes its severed particles may migrate, will still retain, adhering to it ! through every combination, some movement ' derived from that very muscular eflbrt by i which the crime itself was perpetrated." — I Chapter ix. " On the Permanent Impression of 1 our Words and Actions on the Globe we in- t habit." I even that dust shall live again ; and all the while their spirits, conscious sfill, sentient still, occupy some unknown re- gion, miserable or happy beyond what they ever were upon earth, though re- served for yet more of wretchedness or gladness at an approaching resurrec- tion and general judgment. Neither is the past year dead : not a moment of it but lives and breathes, not one of its buried occurrences that has not a pre- sent existence, exercising some mea- sure of influence over our actual con- dition, and reserved to exercise a yet stronger, when it shall come forth as a witness at the last dread assize, bear- ing testimony which must help to de- termine whether we are to be for ever with the Lord, or banished for ever from the light of his presence. Thus these registered names might them- selves serve as an appropriate sermon, God is witness that it is in perfect sin- cerity, and with every sentiment of christian afTection, that, adopting the customary language, 1 wish you all a happy new year. But I must give a voice to the old year. It must speak to you from its sepulchre. No burying of the past as though it w^ere never to revive. No reading of names in the Chronicles as though they were names of those who have altogether ceased to be. Oh, I wish you a happy newyear j but happy it shall not, cannot be, in any such sense as befits beings of such origin, such capacity, such destiny as yourselves, unless you bear diligently in mind that you are mortal, yet can- not die ; that things may be past, yet cannot perish; that days may be for- gotten, but never can forget. We should receive, however, a wrong impression in regard of these chapters of the First Book of Chroni- cles, were we to suppose them valua- ble only on such accounts as have al- ready been indicated. They are not a mere record cf nairies, though, on a cursory glance, we might conclude that they contained nothing else, and that therefore, after one or two gene- ral reflections, we might safely pro- ceed to more instructive portions of Scripture. Interspersed with thenamey, there occur, here and there, brief, but pregnant, notices of persons and things, as though inserted to reward the dili- gent student, who, in place of taking J A B E Z , 000 for granted that a catalogue of names could not be worth reading, should go through it with all care, fearing to niiss some word of information or ad- monition. Our text is a remarkable case in point. Here is a chapter which seems made up of genealogies and names. Let me skip it, might be the feeling of the reader ; what grood can I jret from learning that Penuel was the father of Gedor, and Ezer the father of Hu- shah 1" But if he were to skip it he would miss one of the most beautiful , and interesting passages in the Bible, for such, we think to show you, is a just description of our text. We know nothing whatsoever of the Jabez here commemorated beyond what we find in these two verses. But this is enough to mark him out as worthy, in no ordi- nary degree, of being admired and imi- tated. There is a depth, and a compre- hensiveness, in the registered prayer of this unknown individual — unknown except from that prayer — which should suffice to- make him a teacher of the I'ighteous in ever}'' generation. And if we wanted a prayer especially suited to New Year's day, where could we iind more appropriate utterances ? If we would begin, as we ought to begin, the year with petitions that such por- tion of it as God may appoint us to spend upon earth maj'' be spent in greater spiritual enlargement, in deep- er purity of heart and of life, and in more abundant experience of the good- ness of the Lord, than may have mark- ed the past year, what more copious, more adequate, expressions could any one of us use than these, " Oh that thou wouldest bless me indeed, and enlarge my coast, and that thine hand mio-ht be with me, and that thou wouldest keep me from evil that it may not grieve me 1" Happy, happy man, happy woman, happy child, who should pray this prayer in faith, and thus insure that it shall have to be said, as of Jabez, " And God granted him that which he requested." But this is anticipating our subject. Let us now take the several parts of the text in succession, commenting upon each, and searching out the lessons which may be useful to ourselves. The first verse contains a short account of Jabez; the second is occupied by his j prayer. Come, and let us see v.hether I there be not something to instruct us even in the brief narrative of jiis life, and whether, as "strangers and pil- grims upon earth," with a battle to iight, a race to run, an inheritance to I possess, we can find more appropriate supplications than those in which this Jabez called on the Lflrd God of Israel. Now ihere is no denying — for it is forced on us by every day's expe- rience — that we are short-sighted be- ings, so little able to look into the fu- ture that we constantljr miscalculate as to what would be for our good, an- ticipating evil from what is working for beneHt, and reckoning upon bene- lit from that which may prove fraught with nothing but evil. How frequent- ly does that which we have baptized with our tears make the countenance sunny with smiles ! how frequentl}', again, does that Avhich we have wel- comed with smiles wring from us tears! That which has raised anxious thoughts proves often a rich source of joy ; and, as often, that which hardly cost us a care, so bright was its pro- mise, wounds to the quick, and bur- dens us with grief. We do not know the particular reasons which influenced the mother of Jabez to call him by that name, a name which means "Sor- rowful." Vv'^e are merely told, " His mother called his name .Tabez, say- ing, because I bare him with sorrow." Whether it were that she brought forth this son with more than common anguish, or whether, as it may have been, the time of his birth were the time of her widowhood, so that the child came and found no father to welcome him — the mother evidently felt but little of a mother's joy, and looked on her infant with forebodings and fears. Perhaps it could hardly have been her own bodily suffering which made her fasten on the boy a dark and gloomy appellation, for, the danger past, she would rather have given a name commemorative of de- liverance, remembering " no more her anguish for joy that a man was born into the world." Indeed, when Kachel bare Benjamin, she called his name Benoni, that is, the son of my sorrow; but then it was " as her soul was in de- parting, for she died." And when there pressed upon a woman in her travail 556 J AE E Z heavier things than her bodily pains — as with the wife of Phinehas, to whom were brought sad " tidings that the ark of God was taken, and that her father- in-law and her husband were dead " — the mind could fix on the more fatal facts, and perpetuate their remem- brance through the name of the child ; she called — and it was with her last breath, for she too, like Rachel, died — she called the child Ichabod, '' saying, The glory is departed from Israel, for the ark of God is taken." We may well, therefore, suppose that the mother of Jabez had deeper and more lasting sorrows to register in the name of her boy than those of the giving him birth. And whatsoever may have been the cause, whether do- mestic affliction or public calamity, we may consider the woman as having bent in bitterness over her new-born child, having only tears to give him as his welcome to the world, and feeling it impossible to associate with him even a hope of happiness. She had probably looked with different senti- ments on her other children. She had clasped them to her breast with all a mother's gladness, and gazed upon them in the fond anticipation of their proving the supports and comforts of her own declining years. But with Jabez it was all gloom ; the mother felt >as if she could never be happy again: this boy brought nothing but an accession of care, anxiety, and grief; and if she must give him a name, let it be one Avhich may always remind himself and others of the dark heritage to which he had been born. And yet the history of the family is gathered into the brief sentence, " Ja- bsz was more honorable than his brethren." The child of sorrow out- stripped all the others in those things which are " acceptable to God, and ap- proved of men." Nothing is told us of his brethren, except that they were less honorable than himself; they too may have befen excellent, and perhaps as much is implied, but Jabez took the lead, and whether or not the youngest ia years, surpassed every other in piety and renown. Oh, if the mother lived to see the manhood of her sons, how strangely must the name Jabez, a name probably given in a moment of despon- dency and faithlessness, have fallen on her ear, as it was woven into message after message, each announcing that the child of sorrow was all that the most afTectionate parent could wish, and more- than the most aspiring could have hoped. She may then have re- gretted the gloomy and ominous name, feeling as though it reproached her for having yielded to her grief, and allowed herself to give way to dreary forebodings. It may have seem- ed to her as a standing memorial of her want of confidence in God, and of the falseness of human calculations; and as she embraced Jabez, whose every action endeared, as it ennobled him the more, she may have felt that the sor- row had to be transferred from the name to her own heart; she herself had to grieve, but only that, through mistrust of the Lord, she had recorded her fear where she should have exhi- bited her faith. And is not this brief notice of the mother of Jabez full of warning and admonition to ourselves'? How ready are we to give the name Jabez to per- sons or things, which, could we but look into God's purpose, or repose on his promise, we might regard as de- signed to minister permanently to our security and happiness. "All these things," said the patriarch Jacob, " are against me," as one trial after another fell to his lot : if he had been asked to name each event, the loss of Joseph, the binding of Simeon, the sending away of Benjamin, he would have written Jabez upon each — so dark did it seem to him, so sure to work only wo. And yet, as you all know, it was by and through these gloomy dealings that a merciful God was providing for the sustenance of the patriarch and his household, for their support and ag- grandizement in a season of extraordi- nary pressure. As Joseph said to his brethren, " God did send me before you to preserve life" — what man would have named Jabez was God's minister for good. Thus it continually happens in regard of ourselves. We give the sorrowful title to that which is design- ed for the beneficen t end. Judging only by present appearances, allowing our fears and feelings, rather than our faith, to take the estimate or fix the character of occurrences, we look with gloom on our friends, and with melan- J A R E Z 00/ choly on our sources of good. Sick- ness, we call it Jabez, though it may be sent to minister to our spiritual health ; poverty, we call it Jabez, though coming to help us to the pos- session of heavenly riches ; bereave- ment, we call it Jabez, though design- ed to graft us more closely into the household of God. O for a better judgment! or rather, for a simpler faith! We cannot indeed see the end from the beginning, and therefore can- not be sure that what rises in cloud will set in vermilion and gold ; but we need not take upon ourselves to give the dark name, as though we could not be deceived in regard of the nature. The mother of him who proved "more honorable than his brethren" may have been unable to prognosticate aught but sorrow for and from this child — so much of threatening aspect may have hung round his entrance upon life — but she should have called him by a name expressive of dependence on God, rather than of despondency and soreness of heart. Let us derive this lesson from the concise but striking narrative in the first verse of our text. Let us neither look confidently on what promises best, nor despairingly on what wears the most threatening appearance. God of- ten wraps up the withered leaf of dis- appointment in the bright purple bud, and as often enfolds the golden flower of enjoyment in the nipped and blight- ed shoot. Experience is full of evi- dence that there is no depending on appearances ; that things turn out widely different from what could have been anticipated : the child of most promise perhaps living to pierce as with a sword, the child of least, to ap- ply balsam to the wound ; events which have menaced ministering to happi ness, and those which have come like enemies doing the office of friends. So that, if tiiere be one duty more pressed upon us by what we might ob- serve than another, it is that of wait- ing meekly upon the Lord, never che- rishing a wish that we might choose for ourselves, and never allowing a doubt that he orders all for our good. Oh, be careful that you pronounce not harshly of his dealings, that you pro- voke iiim not by speaking as though you could see through his purpose, and decide on its being one of unmix- ed calamity. If you are so ready with your gloomy names, he may suspend his gracious designs. If, in a spirit of repining or unbelief, you brand as Ja- bez what may be but a blessing in dis- guise, no marvel if sometimes, in just anger and judgment, he allow the title to prove correct, and suffer not this Jabez, this child born in sorrow, to become to you, as otherwise it might, more honorable, more profitable, than any of its brethren. But let us now turn to the prayer of Jabez : there might be a sermon made on each petition ; but we must con- tent ourselves with a brief comment on the successive requests. Yet we ought not to examine the prayer with- out pausing to observe to whom it is addressed .It is not stated that .labez called on God, but on "the God of Is- rael ;" and, unimportant as this may seem on a cursory glance, it is a par- ticular which, duly pondered, will be foimd full of beauty and interest. There are few things more signifi- cant than the difference in the manner in which God is addressed by saints I under the old and under the new dis- pensation. Patriarchs pray to God as the God of their fathers; Apostles pray to him as the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. In both forms of address there is an intimation of the same fact, that we need something to encourage us in approaching unto God ; that, ex- posed as we are to his just wrath for our sins, we can have no confidence in speaking to him as to absolute Dei- ty. There must be something to lean upon, some plea to urge, otherwise wc can but 'shrink from the presence of One so awful in his gloriousness ; our lips must be sealed ; for what can it avail that corrupt creatures should ask mercies from a Being, all whose attri- butes pledge him to the pouring on them vengeance'? They may tell you that prayer is the voice of nature — but it is of nature in utter ignorance of it- self and of God. The savage oilers his petitions to the unknown spirit of the mountain or the flood ; yes — to the un- known spirit : let the savage be better informed as to what God is, lot him bo also taught as to what himself is, and he will be more disposed to the silence of despair than to the importunity of 558 J A BEZ . supplication. We must, then, have some title with which to address God — some title which, interfering not with his majesty or his mysterious- ness, may yet place him under a cha- racter which shall give hope to the sinful as they prostrate themselves be- fore him. We need not say, that, un- der the Gospel dispensation, this title should be that which is used by St. Paul, " the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ." Having such a Mediator through whom to approach, there is no poor suppli- cant who may not come with boldness to the mercy-seat. But under earlier dispensations, when the mediatorial of- lice was but imperfectly made known, men had to seize on other pleas and encouragements ; and then it was a great thing, that they could address God, as you continually find him ad- dressed, as the God of Israel, the God of their fathers, the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob. The title assur- ed them that God was ready to hear prayer and to answer it. They went before God, thronged, as it were, with remembrances of mercies bestowed, deliverances vouchsafed, evils avert- ed: how could they fear that God was too great to be addressed, too occupied to reply, or too stern to shov;- kindness, when they bore in mind how he had shielded their pa- rents, hearkened to their cry, and prov- ed himself unto them "a very present help" in all time of trouble 1 Ah, and though under the new dis- pensation, " the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ" be the great character under which God should be address- ed by us in prayer, there is no need for our altogether dropping the title, the God of our fathers. It might of- ten do much to cheer a sorrowful heart and to encourage a timid, to ad- dress God as the God of our fathers. The God in whom my parents' trusted, the God who heard my parents' cries, the God who supplied my parents' wants — oh, there is many a poor wan- derer Avho would be more encouraged, and more admonished, through such a remembrance of God as this, than through all the definitions of a rigid theology. There are some here — the mother did not, indeed, give them the name Jabez at their birth ; she looked on them hopefully, with eyes brimful of gladness J but they have since sore= ly wrung the hearts of their parents — disobedient, dissipated, thankless, that sharper thing, it is said, than the tooth of the serpent. There are some such here 5 some who helped to bring down a father's "grey, hairs with sorrow to the grave :" others, whose parents still survive ; but if you could look in unexpectedly on those parents, you might often find them shedding scald- ing tears, shedding them on account of a child who is to them a Jabez, as causing only grief, whatever brighter name they gave him amid the hopes and promises of baptism. We speak to those of you whose consciences bear witness, that their parents would have predicted but truth had they named them Jabez, that is, sorrowful. We want to bring you to begin the new year with resolutions of amend- ment and vows of better things. But resolutions and vows are worth noth- ing, except as made in God's strength and dependence on his grace. And therefore must you pray to God : it were vain to hope any thing from you unless you will give yourselves to prayer. But how shall you address God, the God whom you have neglect- ed, the God whom you have provoked, the God of whom you might justly fear, that he is too high, too holy, and too just, to receive petitions from such as yourselves] Oh, we might give you lofty titles, but they would only bewilder you; we might define him by his magnificent attributes, but they would rather terrify than encourage you. But it may soften, and at the same time strengthen you; it may aid your contrition, wring from you tears, and yet fill you with hope, to go be- fore God with all the imagery around you of the home of your childhood, the mind's eye arraying the reverend forms of those who gave you birth, as they kneel down in anguish, and cry unto the Lord — ay, cry on your be- half, and cry not in vain ; for it may be in answer to their prayer, that you now attempt to pray. Oh, we shall indeed hope for you, ye wanderers, ye prodigals, if, when ye go hence, ye will seek the solitude of your cham- bers and fall upon your Icnees, and, allowing memory to do its ofiice, how- i ever painful and reproachful, address .7 A B E Z 559 God, iis Jabcz addressed liim, as the God of Israel, the God of your parents. And what did Jabez pray for? for great things — great, if you suppose him to have spoken only as an heir of the temporal Canaan, greater, if you ascribe to him acquaintance with the mercies of redemption. "Oh, that thou wouldest bless me indeed !" Lay the emphasis on that word " indeed." Many things pass for blessings which are not j to as many more we deny, though we ought to give the charac- ter. There is a blessing in appear- ance which is not also a blessing in reality ; and converse!}', the reality may exist where the appearance is wanting. The man in prosperity ap- pears to have, the man in adversity to be without, a blessing — yet how often does God bless by withholding and withdrawing! more frequently, it may be, than by giving and continuing. Therefore, " Oh, that thou wouldest bless me indeed." Let me not have ■what looks like blessing, and perhaps is not, but what is blessing, however unlike it may appear. Let it come under any form, disappointment, tri- bulation, persecution, only "bless me indeed !" bless me, though it be with the rod. I will not prescribe the na- ture of the dealing ; deal with me as Thou wilt, with the blow or with the balm, only " bless me indeed !" And Jabez goes on, "That thou wouldest enlarge my coast." He pro- bably speaks as one who had to win from the enemy his portion of the promised land. He knevv^ that, as the Lord said to Joshua, " There remained yet very much land to be possessed :" it was not then necessarily as a man de- sirous of securing to himself a broad- er inheritance, it may have been as one who felt jealous that the idolater should still defile what God had set apart for his people, that he entreated the enlargement of his coast. And a Christian may use the same prayer; he, too, has to ask that his coast may be enlarged. Who amongst us has yet taken possession of one iialf the territory assigned him by God^ Of course we are not speaking of the in- lieritance that is above, of share in the land whereof Canaan was the type, and which we cannot enter but by dy- in"-. But there is a present inherit- ance, "aland flowing willi niillc and with honey," wliich is ours in virtue of adoption into the family of God", but much of which we allow to remain unpossessed, through deficiency in dil- igence or in faith. Our privileges as Christians, as members of an apostoli- cal church, as heirs of the kingdom of heaven, how are these practically un- dervalued, how little are they reaUzed, how sluggishly appropriated! We re- main—alas, we are contented to re- mai-n — in suspense as to our spiritual condition, in the enjoyment of but a fraction of the ministrations appointed by the church, in low attainments, contracted views, and half-performed duties. What districts of unpossess- ed territory are there in the Bible ! how much of that blessed book has been comparatively unexamined by us! We have our favorite parts, and give only an occasional and cursory notice to the rest. How little practi- cal use do we make of God's promi- ses! how slow is our progress in that humbleness of mind, that strength of faith, and that holiness of life, which are as much a present reward as an evidence of fitness for the society of heaven ! What need then for the pray- er, "Oh that thou wouldest enlarge my coast !" I would not be circum- scribed in spiritual things. I v/ould not live always within these narrovv' bounds. There are bright and glori- ous tracts beyond. 1 would know more of God, more of Christ, more of myself. I cannot be content to re- main as I am, whilst there is so much to do, so much to learn, so much to en- joy. Oh for an enlargement of coas^t, that I may have a broader domain of i Christian privilege, more en»incnces : from wliicli to catch glimpses of tiiu fair rich land hereafter to be readied, j and wider sphere in which to glorifv I God by devoting myself to liis service. ] It is a righteous covetousness, this for I an enlargement of coast; lor he has ' done little, we might almost say nc- I thing, in religion, who can be content 1 with what lie lias done. It is a lioly I ambition, this which pants for an arii- 1 pier territory. But are we only to I prayl are we not also to struggle, for .the enlargement of our coasts! In- deed we are: observe how Jabez pr(»- \ cecds, "And that thine hand might be obU J A B E Z . with me." He represents himself as arming for the enhirgenient of his coast, but as knowing all the while that "the battle is the Lord's." Be it thus with ourselves; we will pray- that, during the coming year, our coasts may be enlarged ; oh for more of those deep havens where the soul may anchor in still waters of comfort ! oh for a longer stretch of those sunny shores whereon the tree of life grows, and where angel visitants seem often to alio-ht ! But, in order to this- en- largement, let us give ourselves to closer study of the word, to a more diligent use of the ordinances of the Church, and to harder struggle with the flesh. Only let all be done with the practical consciousness that "ex- cept the Lord build the house, their labor is but lost that build it." This will be to arm ourselves, like Jabez, for the war, but, like Jabez, to expect success only so far as God's hand shall be with us. There is one more petition in the prayer of him who, named with a dark and inauspicious name, yet grew to be " more honorable than his brethren." " That thou wouldest keep me from evil that it may not grieve me." It is not an entreaty for actual exemption from evil — it were no pious wish to have no evil whatsoever in our por- tion : " Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive eviP." Jabez prayed not for the being kept from evil, but kept from the being grieved by evil. And there is a vast ! difference between the being visited by | evil, and grieved by evil. He is grieved ! by evil, who does not receive it meekly | and submissively, as the chastisement : of his heavenly Father. He is grieved | by evil, whom evil injures, in place of j benefits — which latter is always God's j purpose in its permission or appoint- ment. He is grieved by evil, whom it drives into sin, and to whom, therefore, it furnishes cause of bitter repentance. You see, then, that Jabez showed great spiritual discernment in casting his prayer into this particular form. We too should pray, not absolutely that God would keep us from evil, but that he would so keep it from us, or us from it, that it may not grieve us. The coming year can hardly fail to bring with it its portion of trouble. There are individuals here who will have much to endure, v/hether in person, or family, or substance. It is scarcely assummg the place of the prophet, if I say that 1 see the funeral procession moving from some of your doors, and sorrow, under one shape or another, breaking like an armed man into many of your households. But if it were too much to hope that evil may not come, it is not too much to pray that evil may not grieve. Ah, if we knew ap- proaching events, we should, perhaps, be ready to give the name Jabez to the year which has this day been born. And yet may this Jabez be more hon- orable than his brethren, a year of en- largement of our coasts, of greater ac- quisition in spiritual things, of growth iu grace, of closer conformity to the image of Christ. It is not the tribu- lation with which its days may be charged, which can prevent such re- sult ; nay, rather, it may only advance it. And it shall be this, if we but strive to cultivate that submissiveness of spi- rit, that firm confidence in the wisdom and goodness of the Lord, that dispo- sition to count nothing really injurious but what injures the soul, yea, every thing profitable from which the soul may gain good, which may all be dis- tinctly traced in the simple, compre- hensive petition, " Oh that thou would- est keep me from evil, that it may not grieve me." Now we have thus endeavored to interweave with our subject-matter of discourse such reflections and obser- vations as might be specially appro-, priate to a New Year's day. But there is one thing of which I had almost lost sight. I have to ask you for a New Year's day present, not indeed for my- self, which I might hesitate to do, but for the poor, the sick, and the afflicted, in whose name I may beg, and have nothing to blush at, unless it were a refusal. Of all days iu the year, this is peculiarly a day for " sending por- tions" to the distressed, sending them as a thank-offering for the many mer- cies with which the past year has been marked. And our long-established and long-tried District Society for visiting and relieving the poor of the neigh- borhood, makes its annual appeal to you for the means of carrying on its benevolent work. It appeals to the re- J A B E Z gular congregation, as to those whose engine and instrument it especially is • It appeals also to strangers; for thev who come hither to join in our wor ship, may with all justice be asked to assist us m our charities. I need not dwell on the excellences of this socie- ty. 1 shall venture to say, that, through the kindness and zeal of our visiters whom we can never sufficiently thank' ! but whom God will reward-for theirs i IS the fine christian benevolence, the benevolence which gives time, the be- ' nevolence which gives labor, the bene- 1 volence which seeks no showy sta^e I no pubhc scene, but is content to ply' i patient and unobserved, in the hovels ' of poverty and at the bedside of sick- I ness; I shall venture to say, that through the kindness of these visit- ers, a vast deal is daily done towards alleviating sorrow, lightening distress, and bringing the pastor into contact with the sick and the erring of his nock. It were very easy to sketch many pictures which might incline you to be even more than commonly libe- ral in your New Year's day gift! But | 1 shall attempt only one, and furnish \ nothing but the briefest outline even ot that. There is a mother in yonder wretched and desolate room, who has but lately given birth to a boy: and there is no father to welcome him for only a few weeks back, half broken- hearted, she laid her husband in the grave What shall she call that boy thus born to her in the midst of wretch edness and anguish 1 Oh, by no cheer 561 hi .-r?'^^^^^'^^ ^^^ bends over orlnrrl ^ 7"'^ ^"^^^^ ^he child frln n ''•■ u° ^'"^^y ^^ ^^' «tate, so fnendless, that, were it not for the ^tri- J'"g«^ of that sweet and sacred thina rnZ^V ^""^""^^^^ ^«r her babe, sh"e' could almost wish him with his father ha P r^^"' '''"' ^ '"'°h* "«t have to share her utter destitution. Left to ^Vit ' } u '' """^^ J^bez, saying, I Because I bare him with sorrow?' i^ut she IS not left to herself: a kind voice bids her be of good cheer a nendly hand brings he? nourishmem: s e looks smilingly on her child, for she has been suddenly made to hear God the husband of the widow, and the father of the fatherless." Oh What .V^ ^"^! J^' P^"'"^^ «^^^ that lonely Usl^rn'\'^r''^'"^"*'y°"-^J^no^ I ""^^^ ^^^ough what instrumentality, but j you will thank God that such an in I strumentahty is in active operation aroundyoujyouwilldo your best to I keep up Its efficiency. Ld as that I suffering woman no longer thinks of calling her child Jabez.^hat is. Sor- rowful, but rather wishes some title expressive of thanksgiving and hope- fulness; you will so share her alad- ness as to feel how appropriately" the organ's solemn swell now summons you to join in the doxology : vl^-^^ ^°'^' ^'■^^ ^^^^°™ all blessings flow Praise H,m, all creatures here below ; ' Pr'pfi ^"^ ^^''r' y" heavenly host, Praise Father. Son, and Holy Ghost " THE END 71 4 I UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY BERKELEY Return to desk from which borrowed. This book is DUE on the last date stamped below.