i OOLLEfxIATE 
 
 ADMESSES
 
 JStT. Romeo £ltoti, I>. J». 
 
 This dii^tinsuished scholar and divine, died th 
 moniinii at the Parker House, in Boston, after 
 very brief ilhiess, the particulars of which we^ 
 have not learned. It is but a few days since he 
 was in excellent health and spirits, receiving- con- 
 gratulations from his fiiends on account of his 
 recent marriage, and j>romisin<; to himself much 
 happiness and peace m the years to come. But, 
 alas ! the brittle thread is sundered. 
 
 Dr. Elton graduated at Brown University in 
 the year 1818. Among his classmates now living 
 are the Hon. Zachariah Allen of this city; Rev. 
 Chester Chapin, formerly a member of Congress; 
 Hon. John Ruggles, United States Senator from 
 Maine; the Rev. Dr. Shepard, of Bristol, and 
 the Rev. Dr. Pond, of Bangor, Maine. After 
 graduating he turned his attention to divinity, 
 and was settled as pastor of the Baptist 
 Church in Winsor, Connecticut. His next pas- 
 torate was m connection with the Second 
 13aptist Chni'ch in Newport, where he labored 
 successfully for many years. In 1825 he ac- 
 cepted a professorship in Brown University. 
 Here he continued until 1843, teaching Greek aiid 
 Latin to a host of graduates now scattered all 
 over the globe, who will bless his memory as they 
 read the sad announcement of his death. For 
 the past seventeen years he has resided in Exeter, 
 England, where his varied accomi)lishments and 
 genial manners gained him many sincere friends 
 and admirers. Daring the late war his voice and his 
 pen were employed to good advan lage in defending 
 tlie govcrnn\ent and iiistitiitiuns of his native land. 
 Upon the dcatii of his wife, a lady of piety and 
 learning, nnd an authoress of no little reputation, 
 he removed to Bath, and finally raturned to 
 America. At the last college comraencement he 
 was present, and wa-s greeted with much entlm- 
 siasm by his old pupils, wlio gathered around 
 him. About two months ajro he was married, for 
 the third time, to Miss Margaret AlJen, of Gardi- 
 ner, Maine. He goes down to the grave full of 
 years and honors, after a long: career of useful- 
 ness. Dr. Elton, it may be added, has recently 
 founded two scholarships in Brown University, 
 one of tliem named tlie Protesia Elton scholar- 
 ship, in honor of his second wife. — Providence
 
 J'/ 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 ^<
 
 
 COLLEGIATE ADDRESSES; 
 
 BEING 
 
 COUNSELS TO STUDENTS 
 
 ON THEIK 
 
 LITERARY PURSUITS AND FUTURE LIFE. 
 
 BT THE 
 
 REV. JONATHAN MAXCY, d.d. 
 
 S^ttt) a 13iog[rapi)ttal {-ntrotiurtton, 
 By ROMEO ELTON, d.d., f.r.p.s., 
 
 I Fellow of the Royal Society of Antiquaries, Copenhaf^en ; of the Society of UniTenal 
 I Statistics, Paris ; of the Counecticut Academy of Arts and Sciences. 
 
 Member of the American Antiquarian Society ; of the American Oriental Society ; 
 
 Hon. Member of the New York and Connecticut Historical Societies, &c. &c. 
 
 and late Professor in Brown University. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 LONGMAN, BROWN, AND CO. 
 
 W. TEGG AND CO. ; ARTHUR HALL, VIRTUE, AND CO. 
 
 GLASGOW: GRIFFIN & CO. EXETER: W. BATTr
 
 iSSiO 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAUB 
 
 Biographical Introduction 1 
 
 An Address, delivered to the Graduates of Brown University, 
 at the Anniversary Commencement, September 5tfa, 1798 25 
 
 An Address, delivered to the Candidates for the Baccalaureate 
 of Brown University, at the Anniversary Commencement, 
 September 2nd, 1801 39 
 
 An Address, delivered to the Graduates of Brown University, 
 at the Public Commencement, September 1st, 1802 61 
 
 An Address, delivered to the Baccalaureate of the South 
 Carolina College, December 2nd, 1816 77 
 
 A Discourse, delivered in the Chapel of Brown University,to 
 the Senior Class, on the Sunday preceding the Anniversary 
 Commencement, September 3rd, 1800 93 
 
 876914
 
 IV. CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 An Anniversary Discourse, delivered to the Students of the 
 South Carolina College, on Sunday, December 1st, 1816, 
 being the day previous to the Commencement 115 
 
 An Introductory Lecture to a Course, on the Philosophical 
 Principles of Rhetoric and Criticism, designed for the Senior 
 Class of the South Carolina College, and delivered in the 
 Public Chapel, April 8th, 1817 143 
 
 A Discourse on the Existence of God, demonstrated from the 
 Works of Creation, delivered before the Students of Brown 
 University, on Sunday, August 9th, 1795 171
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Among the various advantages resulting both to 
 England and America from a common language, 
 one of the greatest is, the facility thus aflforded 
 for the intercommunion of thought. The works 
 of every distinguished writer soon become the 
 common projierty of both countries. American 
 Literature is favorably received in the mother 
 country, and we ventiu-e to anticipate such a 
 reception for the present volume, which contains 
 a selection from the "Literary Remains" of 
 President Maxcy. These Remains were recently 
 published in tlie United States, edited by the 
 individual who presents this voliune to the British 
 
 B
 
 2 BIOGEAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 public, and were noticed with high commendation 
 in the principal American Keviews. 
 
 As it is always gi-atifying to the reader to know 
 something of the author whose work he is about 
 to peruse, we shall introduce this selection by a 
 brief Memoir. 
 
 The Kev. Jonathan Maxcy, d. d., was born in 
 Attleborough, Massachusetts, September 2nd, 
 A.D. 1 708. Here his ancestors had long resided on 
 their own estate. His grandfather, Josiah Maxcy, 
 Esq., was for many years a member of the Colonial 
 Legislatm'e of Massachusetts, and, throughout a 
 long life, enjoyed the esteem and confidence of 
 the community. Dr. Maxcy was the eldest son 
 of Levi and Euth Maxcy. His mother, whose 
 maiden name was Newell, was a woman of strong 
 mind and devoted piety; and the present instance 
 may be added to the numerous examples in which 
 superior mothers have been honored in their 
 sons. Upon her devolved the delightful duty, of
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 3 
 
 implanting in his young mind those seeds of 
 tiiith and righteousness, which were in after years 
 to bud and blossom into usefulness. His father 
 was a man of literary tastes, of sound imderstand- 
 ing, and one of the most influential inhabitants 
 of the town. The character of his parents, there- 
 fore, was liighly auspicious to his intellectual 
 and moral training. Two of Dr. Maxcy's brothers, 
 Milton and Virgil, graduated at Brown University, 
 and afterwards rose to eminence at the bar. The 
 latter filled the ofiice of Solicitor to the United 
 States; and subsequently, that of Charge d' Affaires 
 to the Court of Belgium. 
 
 Jonathan Maxcy, the subject of the following 
 narrative, as soon as he could read, became pas- 
 sionately fond of books; and, at an early age, gave 
 proofs of extraordinary talent and matmity of 
 intellect. Often, when a boy, he was wont to give 
 his comjjanions specimens of his extemporaneous 
 oratory, which would have done credit to riper 
 
 years. His sprightly wit and pleasing^ manners 
 
 B 2
 
 4 BIOGRAPHICAL INTEODUCTION. 
 
 rendered him a great favorite at home, and in 
 the neighbom'hood. The evidences of genius and 
 devotion to study which young Maxcy thus early 
 evinced, seemed to indicate to his parents the 
 propriety of giving him a liberal education. 
 They had obsei'ved with delight the force and 
 clearness of his intellectual operations, and cher- 
 ished hopes of his future eminence. He was 
 placed, therefore, preparatory for admission to 
 college, in the Academy at Wrentham, Massa- 
 chusetts, over which the Kev. William Williams, 
 M. A., presided with distinguished ability. Of this 
 eminent instructor he was accustomed to speak 
 in terms of respect; and continued much attached 
 to him in after life. 
 
 In 1783, at the age of fifteen, he entered 
 Brown University. While an undergraduate he 
 pursued his studies with gi-eat assiduity and suc- 
 cess ; and his brilliant intellect, urbanity of 
 manners, and correct deportment, conciliated the 
 high regai'd both of his insti-uctors and fellow
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 5 
 
 Students. His studies in college developed and 
 invigorated the powers of his mind; and, to what- 
 ever branch of knowledge he applied himself, he 
 was sure to excel. Even at this early age, his 
 compositions were remarkable for the classic 
 purity in which his conceptions were embodied. 
 Genius is sometimes marked by an exclusive 
 development of one faculty, which throws the 
 others into shade. In Maxcy there was that 
 exquisite harmony of all the faculties which con- 
 stitutes the perfection of mind. This, aided by 
 judicious training, ensured his future eminence. 
 He gi'aduated in 1787, with the highest honors 
 of his class, on which occasion he delivered a 
 poem, " On the Prospects of America," and the 
 valedictory oration — the latter, in the American 
 colleges, being always assigned to the best scholar. 
 Immediately aftenvards a vacancy in a tutorship 
 occuiTed ; and, such were the qualifications of 
 young Maxcy, that he was appointed to fill it, 
 tiiougli yet a minor. This imparted a new impulse
 
 6 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 to the noble aspirings of his unfolding powers. 
 During four years he discharged the duties of his 
 office with such ability, as to seciu-e popularity 
 and respect from the students, the faculty, and 
 the corporation of the University. 
 
 Although he had been favored with a religious 
 education, yet it was not till the period of his 
 tutorship in college, that he appears to have 
 been brought ]Dermanently under the power of 
 divine truth. The fervor and depth of his piety 
 was soon apparent to all, and he resolved to 
 devote himself to the Christian ministry — a step 
 which he was encouraged to take by the President 
 of the College, the Rev. Dr. Manning. After 
 having, for some time, devoted his attention to 
 the study of theology, Mr. Maxcy resigned his 
 office of tutor, and was ordained as Minister of 
 the first Church of Christ, in Providence, Sep- 
 tember 8th, 1791. This was the oldest and most 
 influential church in Rhode Island. On the day 
 of his ordination he was elected Professor of
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 Divinity, and also a Trustee of the College. 
 
 Mr, Maxcy entered upon the dischai'ge of his 
 ministerial duties with earnestness, united with 
 a deep sense of his responsibility, and he soon 
 attained high reputation as a preacher. His 
 sermons were always full of evangelical truth, 
 and delivered ia a manner chaste, dignified, and 
 impressive. 
 
 He was advancing to the acme of fame, in 
 pulpit oratory, when a still more extensive field 
 of usefulness was opened to him. The Presidency 
 of Brown University having become vacant by the 
 death of the Rev. James Manning, d. d., public 
 sentiment universally pointed to Mr. Maxcy as 
 tlie most suitable person to be his successor. 
 The Corporation of the College did not long 
 deliberate; and, at the annual commencement, 
 September 8th, 1792, he was unanimously chosen 
 to that important ofl&ce. He resigned tlie pas- 
 torate of the chiuch on the same day that he was 
 placed in the presidential chair, and, entering
 
 8 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 upon the discharge of his official duties, gave to 
 them all his energies. At the commencement, 
 succeeding his inaugm-ation, the college was 
 illuminated, and a transparency placed in the 
 attic stor)^ displaying his name, with the words — 
 " President, 34 years old." ^ 
 
 Kipe scholars, and men of science, are some- 
 times deficient when jolaced at the head of a 
 college. The suaviter ifi modo is often unhai)j)ily 
 divorced from the fortiter in re. It is a hapj^y 
 cu'cumstance, when persons occupy these high 
 places, who combine, with pleasing and dignified 
 manners, a firm and strict enforcement of neces- 
 sary discipline. In his official station. President 
 Maxcy endeai'ed himself to his pupils, by the 
 affability of his deportment, and his paternal 
 solicitude for their welfare. He was always ready 
 to assist and encom'age any who aj)plied to him, 
 and entered into thek concerns with the most 
 lively interest. In his mode of discipline he 
 treated his pupils as yoimg gentlemen ; and,
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 9 
 
 while his appeals were addi-essed to the under- / 
 standing and the conscience, he endeavored to 
 make each one feel his own responsibility as an 
 intellectual and moral being. 
 
 Under his able and judicious administration, 
 the college acquired a high reputation, and 
 diffused its light over every part of the Union. 
 It sent forth a constellation of accomj^lished 
 scholars, whose eloquence has adorned the jiiUpit, 
 defended the rights of the people, and shone in 
 the Halls of Congress. 
 
 Such was President Maxcy's celebrity as a 
 scholai' and divine, that in 1801, when only 
 thirty-three yeai-s of age, the honorary degi'ee of 
 Doctor in Divinity was confeiTed on him by 
 Harvard Univei-sity, At this period, he was so 
 highly appreciated, that he was invited to more 
 eligible positions, in distant pai'ts of the coimtrj'. 
 In 1802, after tlie death of the Eev. Jonathan 
 Edwai-ds, d.d., President of Union College, New 
 York, Dr. Maxcy was elected his successor.
 
 10 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Here he officiated with increasing reputation, 
 until 1804, when he was called to another sphere 
 of action. In that year, upon the establishment 
 of the South Carolina College, he received the 
 unsolicited appointment of President, and ac- 
 cepted it with the fond anticipation of finding a 
 warmer clime more congenial to his constitution. 
 He presided over that institution till his death ; 
 and, imder his popular government, it attained a 
 high rank among the colleges of the United States. 
 Dr. Maxcy's health had been infirm for several 
 years, and, after a short illness, he expired in 
 peace, in full expectation of the blessedness of 
 the righteous, June 4th, 1820, aged fifty-two 
 years. The death of an individual so admired 
 and revered spread a deep soitow, not only 
 through his family, but among his numerous 
 friends and pupils in all parts of the Union. 
 Science, virtue, and religion mourned over the 
 loss of one of the brightest ornaments of the 
 western hemisphere.
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 11 
 
 Dr. Maxcy, it is believed, was appointed to 
 the office of President the youngest, and officiated 
 the longest, in proportion to his years, of any 
 person in the United States. He was connected 
 with some college, either as a student or an 
 officer, nearly thirty-eight out of the fifty-two 
 yeai's of his life. 
 
 In his person he was rather small of stature, 
 but of a fine and well-proportioned figure. His 
 features were regular and manly, indicating in- 
 telligence and benevolence ; and, especially in 
 couvei-sation and public speaking, they were 
 strongly expressive. Grace and dignity were 
 also combined in his movements. 
 
 In closing this brief sketch, we subjoin a few 
 particulars in relation to the prominent traits of 
 his character. 
 
 As a scholar, Dr. Maxcy held a very high rank. 
 His stores of knowledge were varied and profound, 
 and he had at all times the command over them. 
 Like tlie celebrated Robert Hall, he appears to
 
 12 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 have evinced an early taste for metaphysical 
 studies, and to have thoroughly understood the 
 vai'ious systems of philosophy. To this circiun- 
 stance was probably owing much of that clearness, 
 precision, and facility, which enabled him at 
 once to sejoarate truth from error, and to wield 
 his arguments with irresistible effect. He j)0S- 
 sessed, in a very extraordinary degree, the power 
 of mental abstraction ; and few persons could 
 pursue a train of thought to equal extent, without 
 the aid of writing, or retain tlieir concej^tions 
 with a firmer gi-asp. Although he had a marked 
 predilection for analytical investigation, and for 
 works of jirofound reasoning, yet he cultivated 
 with enthusiasm classical literature and the hellcH 
 lettres. He studied eloquence critically himself^ 
 and took great interest in the oratorical instruc- 
 tions of his pupils. Such was the j)romptitude 
 and compass of his knowledge, that it seemed as 
 if every subject that was introduced was the one 
 which he had been last occui^ied in examining,
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION, 13 
 
 and the one in which he was most minutely and 
 extensively skilled. 
 
 As an instructor. Dr. Maxcy possessed unusual 
 ability, and, perhaps, no jjresident of any college 
 in the United States ever enjoyed a higher repu- 
 tation. The precision and perspicuity with which 
 he could develope his ideas in the most appro- 
 priate language, rendered him ijeculiai'ly qualified 
 for this office. His nmnerous pupils all unite in 
 pronouncing him, as a teacher, one of the most 
 perfect models. The attractive manner with which 
 his insti'uctions were delivered, added to his long 
 experience, as well as his power of separating the 
 essential fi'om the less important, doubtless con- 
 tiibuted greatly to his success. He saw every 
 subject as a whole, and could dissect, with ana- 
 tomical precision, all its parts, till every fibre 
 was laid bai*e. But, although he was perfect 
 master of the works of others, and at all times 
 capable of demolishing their theories, his learning 
 was never otherwise emjjloyed tlian as an instru-
 
 14 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ment of good. While lie expanded the minds of 
 his pupils fi-om his own capacious stores of know* 
 ledge, and imparted to them a clearer perception 
 of the beauties, or subtilties, or errors of a writer, 
 he was ever careful to instil sound principles of 
 virtue and piety. In his lectures, he generally 
 wrote merely the principal divisions, with a few 
 brief illustrations. His Introductory Lectm'e to 
 a course, on the Philosophical Principles of 
 Rhetoric and Criticism, which is inserted in this 
 volume, will convey to the reader some idea of 
 his method of lecturing. It was intended solely 
 for the use of his pupils, but contains a number 
 of important positions, of general interest, with 
 regard to the groimds and principles of philo- 
 sophical criticism, and the natm*e, use, and end 
 of language. 
 
 As a preacher, Dr. Maxcy's reputation did not 
 depend so much on any one striking excellence, 
 as on the union of many. These were so hajopily 
 combined, that it would be difficult to say which
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 15 
 
 was the most prominent. His conceptions were 
 vigorous, and were expressed in a pure, terse, and 
 elegant style. The impression made by his dis- 
 com*ses was, undoubtedly, very much deepened 
 by the peculiar unction with which they were 
 delivered. A profound and breathless silence, an 
 intense feeling, and a spirit of holy elevation, 
 were the almost invariable attendants of his 
 preaching. He was often called to preach on 
 public and extraordinary occasions, and always 
 attracted crowded audiences — as his hearers were 
 sure that he would do ample justice to the subject 
 he might discuss. His manner of delivery was 
 emphatically his own. There was no labored 
 display, but every thing was natm-al, graceful, 
 and dignified. Though his voice was not very 
 powerful, yet it was full and melodious, and his 
 enunciation so distinct, that every syllable he 
 uttered in the largest assembly fell clearly on the 
 ear of the most distant hearer. He usually com- 
 menced in a moderate tone of voice, but became
 
 16 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 more animated as he proceeded, till he gradually- 
 led captive the hearts and feelings of his audience. 
 
 In the performance of devotional exercises he 
 greatly excelled. Prayer appeared to be his 
 element. His heart was melted, and " his lips 
 touched as with a live coal from off the altar," 
 when he was engaged in this sacred and delight- 
 ful duty. 
 
 As an author, we believe the intelligent reader, 
 who peruses only this selection from Dr. Maxcy's 
 " Literary Kemains," will accord to him a high 
 rank. His Addresses to Graduates are replete 
 with wisdom ; expressed in language spirited, 
 chaste, and classical. The Discom-se on the 
 Existence of God, at the conclusion of this volume, 
 will attract attention by its luminous and johilo- 
 sophical train of thought, its sublime sentiments, 
 and beautifiil imagery. The natural element of 
 his mind was greatness ; and, on subjects of this 
 natm*e, his powers were displayed with peculiar 
 advantage. Here he made his hearers feel the
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 17 
 
 grasp of liis intellect, and subdued them by 
 his powerful reasoning and deep pathos. His 
 Addresses, delivered on special occasions, contain 
 many splendid passages, and may be regarded 
 among the most finished and eloquent of his 
 productions. They show him to have been a 
 warm fidend to every institution which had for 
 its object the promotion of knowledge, patriotism, 
 virtue, and piety. In one of these, delivered in 
 1799, at the request of the citizens of Providence, 
 he refers to the anarchy and infidelity of France, 
 which had begun to roll their waves across the 
 Atlantic, and to threaten the best interests of 
 society in both hemispheres. These sentiments, 
 uttered half a century ago, are not less applicable 
 to the present time. We subjoin the following 
 extract : — 
 
 " Let us for a moment contemplate the magical, 
 wonder-working word — ' Equality.' This, in 
 the French cavalcade of death, is harnessed up 
 beliind liberty. That fair goddess is with reluc- 
 
 c
 
 18 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION, 
 
 tance dragged into the train, and thrust forward, 
 that her charms may introduce the infernal pro- 
 cession which troops behind her. The revo- 
 hitionary demagogues of our country talk much 
 of equality. They assure us, in their indefinite, 
 unqualified language, that all men are equal. 
 To ascertain whether this assertion is true, we 
 must recur to fact and experience. Nature, so 
 far from making all men equal, has made them 
 very unequal. All men have not the same 
 strength and activity of body — all have not the 
 same endowments and energies of mind. These 
 are facts which speak in a language too plain not 
 to be understood. Nature no where yokes up a 
 dwarf with a giant, or a Newton with an ape. 
 Amidst her mighty profusions of endowments, 
 we discover an instinctive wisdom — fitting the 
 numerous parts of this stupendous whole to their 
 several places — arranging them by orders, dif- 
 ferences, and contrasts, so as to constitute one 
 perfect system, whose parts are never all young, 
 nor old, nor equal, but supported in a beautiful 
 diversity, through a perpetually dying and revi- 
 ving imiverse. -iti 
 "Society, no less than nature, makes gi'eat
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 19 
 
 differences and inequalities among men. When 
 the road to acquisition is equally open to all — 
 when the laws equally protect eveiy man's person 
 and property— all men will not possess the same 
 spirit of enterprise — all will not obtain accession 
 of wealth, of learning, virtue, and honor, equally 
 extensive and important. The industrious, 
 prudent citizen, will gain vast quantities of pro- 
 perty, while the negligent and idle will remain 
 in the depths of poverty. To the last, the doctrine 
 of equality is like the music of angels. Energized 
 by the sound, he rouses from his lethargy, and 
 revels on the divided spoils of his wealthy 
 neighbour. That men in the social state are 
 equal as to certain rights — that they ought to be 
 protected in their persons and property, while 
 they behave as good citizens, will undoubtedly 
 be admitted. This, however, is a very different 
 kind of equality from that which the promulgers 
 of this pernicious doctrine intended to introduce. 
 Their schemes of wicked ambition were, to over- 
 tiun all tlie established governments in the world, 
 and to obtain an unlimited control over the 
 minds and bodies of men. Nothing could be 
 more immediately conducive to this purpose, 
 
 c 2
 
 20 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 than to render all the subordinate ranks of society 
 dissatisfied with their condition. This was to be 
 accomplished by persuading them — that the 
 governments under which they lived were unjust 
 and oppressive — that all religion was a vain and 
 idle superstition — that there was no difference in 
 men, except what arose from arbitrary violence 
 — that the few, who had acquired great wealth, 
 had no better right to it than the many, who had 
 acquired none — and, that nothing could restore 
 genuine liberty but the prostration of every dig- 
 nity, and of every advantage, whether derived 
 from the industry of man, or the bounty of God. 
 The advocates of this pernicious system of 
 equality, in the career of their opposition to the 
 laws of nature and society, have expressed their 
 fervent displeasure at that respect, which long 
 has been, and I trust long will be, attached to 
 eminent and dignified men, exalted to the higher 
 stations in government. This is an important 
 part in the system of universal disorganization : 
 for, if you destroy all respect for magistrates, you 
 destroy all confidence in them, and leave no 
 
 security for the existence of liberty or laws 
 
 If once illumined by the transforming doctrine
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 21 
 
 of equality, we shall see the whole establishment 
 of natui-e reversed. Walking on enchanted 
 ground, we shall see vales usurping the place of 
 mountains — rivers whirling back to their sources, 
 and skies falling to embrace the earth. When we 
 are transformed into complete levellers, we can 
 overleap, at one bound, all the mighty differences 
 established by infinite wisdom ; and, without a 
 seeming disgust at the junction of eternally jarring 
 principles, shall congi-atulate ourselves that we 
 have escaped the drudgery of hmnan prudence, 
 and emerged into a region of perfect day." 
 
 Dr. Maxcy united in an eminent degree the 
 qualities which command genuine esteem. That 
 he had faults we do not deny, for he was himian; 
 but whatever these were, they appear to have 
 been unobserved amid the lustre of his virtues, 
 as all his colleagues and pupils uniformly evince 
 the most affectionate veneration for his memory. 
 Among these we quote the testimony of the two 
 following, whose names are known on botli sides 
 of the Atlantic. The Rev. Eliphalet Nott, d.d., 
 LL.D., one of his pupils, and his successor as
 
 22 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 President of Union College, observes — " That he 
 was an erudite scholar, an accomplished gentle- 
 man, and a successful teacher, was admitted by 
 all who had the happiness to know him." The 
 Eight Eev. T. C. Brownell, d.d., ll.d., Bishop 
 of the Diocese of Connecticut, who was both a 
 pupil and a colleague, says — " He was a most 
 amiable man in private life, and equally interest- 
 ing and conciliating in his public station — 
 possessing a rare genius, an exquisite taste, and 
 a correct judgment." — As a man, he was esteemed 
 and honored ; as a companion, attractive ; as a 
 friend, sincere, constant, and affectionate. In all 
 his intercourse with society, he exhibited an 
 example of Christian meekness and liberality. 
 Frank, noble, and generous, he had nothing of 
 that disguise and duplicity which characterize the 
 mean and selfish. Of his character as a Christian, 
 his life forms the best eulogy. His piety, 
 enlightened, deep, and influential, shone witli a 
 mild and steady lustre, and exemplified its prac-
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 23 
 
 tical efficacy in all the relations he sustained. 
 In his religious opinions he was evangelical and 
 decided, but, at the same time, catholic in his 
 sentiments, and extended his Christian aflfection 
 to all who bore the image of the Saviour. He beau- 
 tiiully exemplified the aphorism — "Innecessariia 
 unitas — in dubiis libertas — in omnibus caritas." 
 
 In the social and domestic circle, the finer 
 qualities of his mind were seen to the greatest 
 advantage. While he was the delight and orna- 
 ment of the intellectual circles in which he moved, 
 he appeared always the most happy in the bosom 
 of his family. In the relation of son, husband, 
 parent, and master, he exhibited a commendable 
 example of fidelity, affection, and kindness. 
 
 In the character of Dr. Maxcy, mental and 
 moral worth were happily combined. And so 
 long as genius, hallowed and sublimed by piety, 
 shall command veneration, he will be remembered 
 in his country as a star of the first magnitude. 
 
 "^ Semper honos, nomenque tnum, laadesque manebunt"
 
 24 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Upon President Maxcy's monument is the 
 following inscription — 
 
 s-M- West face. 
 
 BEVEEENDI • ADMODVM • VIBI 
 
 JONATHANIS • MAXCY • S • T • P ' 
 
 COLLEGII • CABOLINAE ■ AVSTKALIS 
 
 FRINCIPIS • PRAEFECTI 
 
 BARIS ET-PRAECELLENTIBVS.INGENII ■ ARTIBUS • FVLTVS • QVALE3 
 
 VEL • SVMMI8 • DIGNITATIBVS • CONSTITISSENT • AVSPICIO . BONO 
 
 HVJVS • INSTITVTI PRAESES • RELATV8 • EST • IN -IPSO • TEMFOBIH 
 
 MOMENTO-CVM • SINGVLARIA • EJVS MVNERA • MAXIME • ESSENT 
 
 AliVMNIS . EMOLVMENTO • AD • FINGENDOS • MORES • LITERARIOS 
 
 VEL • AD . CASTIGANDA • JVDICIA ■ NEC • NON • VIAM • Q VA ■ APVD 
 
 HOMINES • GRATIAM ■ PAREBENT • MONSTRANDO • ANI.MOSQVE 
 
 EORVM • STVDIO • BONARVM -ARTIVM • INFLAMMANDO 
 
 TALIS-ERATPBAE LECTOR. VTIN.ILLONONINGENIIVIS.NONLVMIN A 
 
 NON.VERBORVM . FELICITAS • NEC • DECOR! • GESTVS • II-LECEBRAE . ET 
 
 AD.COMMOVENDOS.AFFECTVS INSIGNITER-APTAE • DESI DERARENTVB 
 
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 HIS • IN • AEDIBVS ■ ANIMAM • EFFLAVIT 
 PRIDIE • NONAS • JVNII • ANNOQVE • 8 • H ■ 
 
 M • DCCQ- XX
 
 AN ADDRESS, 
 
 DELIVEBEO TO THE 
 
 GBADUATES OF BROWN UNIVERSITY, 
 
 AT THE ANNIVERSARY COMMENCEMENT, 
 September 5th, 1798.
 
 ii!j
 
 AN ADDRESS 
 
 You, gentlemen, have the singular fortune to 
 complete the course of your collegiate education 
 at a period the most alarming and interesting 
 that the world ever saw. Princijjles and conduct 
 prevail, which threaten destruction to those insti- 
 tutions of religion, and government, to which 
 mankind are indebted for all the blessings of 
 civilized life. In that part of Europe, where 
 the altar has been profaned, where the bands 
 of society have been burst asunder, where 
 the most endearing connexions have been 
 exchanged for purposes of worse than brutal 
 association — the passions have been wTought up 
 to such a paroxysm of rage, that they have set 
 at defiance the sacred obligations of religion and 
 justice — have proclaimed open war against the
 
 28 COLLEGIATE ADDRESS, 
 
 Almighty — and covered the earth with blood 
 and murder. There you behold tigers and wolves, 
 in human form, sparing neither age nor sex. To 
 them a Supreme Being is a chimera — immortality 
 is unconscious sleep — and futm'e responsibility 
 the frightful offspring of suj)erstition. There the 
 hydra of despotism, riding on her iron car, gnashes 
 her bloody jaws, and growls destruction to the 
 world. From this horrid spectacle turn off your 
 eyes to your native country — where laws are 
 regarded — ^where government is equally admin- 
 istered — where the constituted authorities are 
 respected — where the God of heaven is wor- 
 shipped; and, let your full souls rise with an 
 indignant determination to resist, at all events, 
 the intruding arm of foreign domination. When 
 you see the pernicious effects of infidelity, atheism, 
 and unbridled ambition, learn to venerate and 
 support those sacred institutions, which alone can 
 render men fit subjects for moral and civil govern- 
 ment. With a view to guard you against that 
 irreligious, haughty, vengeful spirit, which is 
 striving to convert the world into a vast theatre 
 of carnage and confusion ; permit me to recom- 
 mend, to your most serious attention, the three
 
 COLLEGIATE ADDRESS. 29 
 
 following things, from the influence of which, I 
 conceive, all moral improvement is derived. 
 
 First. — Remember that there is a God. The 
 belief of this truth is the only security of virtue, 
 and the only barrier against vice. For, if we say 
 there is no God, we say there is no standard of 
 morality. We equalize virtue and vice ; or rather 
 we say there are no such things as virtue and 
 vice. We at once annihilate all moral obligation, 
 and, with it, all restraint on the sinful pro- 
 pensities and headstrong passions of man. It is 
 truly astonishing, that a rational being, who can 
 endure a moment's reflection, should be an 
 atheist ; and yet there are many who spurn at 
 the idea of a God, and arrogantly tell you that 
 the imiverse is not an eflect, but a cause. Indeed, 
 if you disbelieve the existence of God, you must 
 believe that there is no higher principle than 
 matter. Of consequence, you must say matter 
 is eternal ; its various modifications, animate and 
 inanimate, are the result of an inherent, central, 
 and circumferencial power. In this case you will 
 gain nothing, and lose much ; for you will still 
 be as much at a loss to account for this power 
 and its operations, as you will be to account for
 
 30 COLLEGIATE ADDRESS. 
 
 the existence of an eternal, intelligent, uncaused 
 Being. If you admit the latter, you can account 
 for the origin of all things, in a consistent man- 
 ner ; if you admit the former, you can never 
 account for the existence of one atom, or for one 
 modification of matter. Atheism is, of all doc- 
 trines, the most uncomfortable and gloomy. It 
 renders all moral and intellectual acquirements 
 useless ; levels man to the brutal creation ; des- 
 troys all order, design, and harmony, in the 
 universe. If acted out in its genuine effects, it 
 would convert the world into a theatre of con- 
 fusion, violence, and misery. Never, therefore, 
 forget that there is a God ; let every breath you 
 draw, and every object you behold, remind you of 
 this truth. 
 
 Secondly. — ^Eemember that you have souls; 
 and that these will never cease to exist. A 
 denial of the existence of the soul, as a thing dis- 
 tinct from matter, and of its immortality, is a 
 natural and necessary consequence of a denial of 
 the existence of God. For, if there is no higher 
 principle in the universe than matter, what we 
 call the soul is merely the result of animal organ- 
 ization. In this view, the soul must be considered
 
 COLLEGIATE ADDRESS. 31 
 
 as a quality wholly dependant on a particular 
 disposition of matter ; derange that disposition, 
 and you destroy the soul. In this view, the fate 
 of man and brutes is the same ; both are matter, 
 and both destroyed by decomposition. In short, 
 the doctrine of a material soul amounts to this, 
 man has no soul. God has so formed you, that 
 you are obliged to rely on the veracity of your 
 senses ; if you distrust the evidence of these, or 
 renounce it, you have no standard of certainty 
 left. Your external senses inform you of what 
 exists without; your internal senses, of what 
 exists within. To doubt, in either case, is to do 
 violence to nature. You have the same kind 
 and degree of evidence, therefore, that an 
 operative, thinking substance exists within you 
 — as you have, that any material body exists 
 without you. Matter makes itself known to you 
 by its qualities. The soul becomes acquainted 
 with itself, and its existence, by internal sense ; 
 by the knowledge it gains from without ; and by 
 its operations concerning that knowledge. The 
 soul has as direct a perception of itself, as it has 
 of any object whatever. To doubt, tlierefore, 
 whetlier you have souls, is to doubt whether any
 
 32 COLLEGIATE ADDRESS. 
 
 thing exists. The qualities of the soul appear to 
 be totally different from the qualities of matter. 
 The soul can originate motion and thought ; it 
 can remember, examine, choose, refuse, reflect, 
 judge, and decide. Matter can do nothing of a 
 similar nature ; it is of itself inert. It exliibits 
 not the most distant appearance of thought or 
 volition. If then the qualities of matter and 
 those of the soul are so different, there certainly 
 is the highest reason to believe that they are sub- 
 stances totally different in nature. The soul 
 appears to be a single, indivisible principle. 
 The parts, into which it has been usually divided, 
 ought to be considered, not as if they existed as 
 parts, but as the different operations of the same 
 self- acting^rinciple. Whether this principle will 
 continue to exist after the dissolution of the body, 
 cannot be ascertained without the aid of revela- 
 tion. The dread which the soul has of 
 annihilation ; its dissatisfaction in the present 
 state ; its ardent desire after happiness ; its 
 capacity of unlimited improvement; the absurdity 
 of supposing, that God would bestow powers, and 
 destroy them as soon as they begin to energise ; 
 the unequal fate of virtue and vice in this world;
 
 COLLEGIATE ADDRESS. 3« 
 
 the consideration that man answers no determi- 
 nate pm*pose here ; these things render the 
 separate existence of the soul highly probable. 
 Revelation alone assures and confirms immortality 
 to man. In the sacred pages, a distinction is 
 clearly made and kept up between body and soul. 
 God is styled, " The God of the spirits of all 
 flesh." Paul speaks of " The spirits of the just 
 made perfect." Job says, " There is a spirit in 
 man." David says, " Into thy hand I commit 
 my spirit." Christ said to his disciples, "A 
 spirit hath not flesh and bones." Stephen, when 
 stoned to death, cried, " Lord Jesus receive my 
 spirit." The Saviour certainly taught that there 
 was a difierence between spirit and matter, when 
 he said, " Fear not them which kill the body, \ 
 but are not able to kill the soul." In short, if 
 you examine the Scriptm'es, you will find that 
 the inspired writers uniformly keep up this dis- 
 tinction on which I am insisting ; and that their 
 faith was, that the soul would sur\'ive the 
 dissolution of the body — that death was not an 
 annihilation of existence, but only a change in 
 the mode of it. It is of the highest importance 
 that you believe this doctrine ; for, without it, 
 
 D
 
 / 
 
 34 COLLEGIATE ADDRESS. 
 
 you lose the influence of all those motives which 
 give vigor and worth to human actions. If you 
 admit the idea, that your existence will terminate 
 with the present life, your love of virtue, and 
 hatred of vice, will abate ; you will resign 
 yourselves to the blind impulse of passion ; and 
 will direct all your actions by present gratification. 
 As you will have nothing to anticipate, the 
 immediate impulses of your feelings, independent 
 of all consequences, will engross your attention. 
 Hope and fear are the strongest propensities by 
 -which man is actuated. The first is directed to 
 the reward of virtue — the last, to the punishment 
 of vice. If you, then, take away the prospect of 
 immortality, you take away the chief principles 
 on which moral motives operate ; or you weaken 
 those principles to such a degree, as to render 
 them useless. A disbelief, therefore, of the soul's 
 immortality, contravenes the constitution of 
 nature. It is not right, therefore, to say, as some 
 philosojDhers do, that every appearance in nature 
 is against the future existence of the soul. The 
 contrary is so far true, that you can scarcely 
 investigate the sinful cause of any thing in this 
 world, without taking into view its connexion
 
 COLLEGIATE ADDRESS. 85 
 
 witli another. If you regard your own interest, 
 or that of society, never depart from the doctrine 
 of the soul's immortality. The consequences of 
 a belief in the opposite doctrine, are so manifestly 
 pernicious, that you may rest assured that it can- 
 not be founded in truth. 
 
 Thirdly. — Not only remember that you are 
 immortal, but, that you are accountable creatures. 
 It is impossible for God to form a rational being, 
 and not bind that being under moral law, so long 
 as he shall continue to exist. This law flows 
 from the absolute perfection and supremacy of 
 the divine nature. When we say that God is 
 infinitely amiable, it is the same as to say, that 
 he is to be infinitely loved. Moral obligation, 
 therefore, arises from the nature of God, and, 
 like that, is immutable and eternal. Do not 
 imagine, that any change in your state or dis- 
 position can exempt you from a responsibility for 
 your conduct — the mutability of creatures can 
 make none in God. Always remember your 
 relation to him. A sense of this will lift you 
 above the grovelling pursuits of vice, and furnish 
 a perpetual excitement to the cultivation of those 
 virtues which alone can render you worthy and 
 
 D 2
 
 36 COLLEGIATE ADDRESS. 
 
 happy. Nothing can be more absurd, nothing 
 more pernicious in its consequences, than the 
 sentiment, that inen are not amenable at the 
 tribunal of God; for, if they are at liberty to 
 act as they please, without a liability of being 
 called to an account, it at once becomes indifierent 
 to them what character their actions assume. 
 In fact, a disbelief in future responsibility, is 
 the genuine offspring of atheism ; and, like that, 
 must excite the abhorrence of every virtuous man. 
 Let me urge upon you the importance of the pre- 
 ceding sentiments, respecting the existence of 
 God, the immortality of the soul, and ftiture 
 responsibility. The world is more indebted to 
 the prevalence of these three doctrines, for its 
 order and good government, than to all other 
 causes. These doctrines, as to their full extent 
 and influence, are peculiar to revelation. If you 
 discard them, you enervate every virtuous senti- 
 ment — you undermine the foundations of society 
 — and level the human to the brute creation. 
 These ideas, I have reason to hope from your 
 past conduct, will continue to influence you in 
 future. You are now entering on a vast, danger- 
 ous, and tumultuous theatre. A scene opens for
 
 COLLEGIATE ADDRESS. 37 
 
 the utmost exertions of all your abilities and 
 talents, in support of religion and liberty. 
 Wherever Divine Providence may cast your lot, 
 acquit yourselves like men, determined to be vir- 
 tuous and free. 
 
 I now give you, gentlemen, my parting 
 benediction, wishing you may live honored, 
 respected, and beloved in this world ; and in the 
 next, shine like the stars in the firmament for 
 ever.
 
 AN ADDRESS, 
 
 DBLITBBBD TO THE 
 
 CANDIDATES FOE THE BACCALAUKEATE 
 
 or 
 
 BROWN UNIVERSITY, 
 
 AT THE ANNIVERSARY COMMENCEMENT, 
 September 2nd, 1801.
 
 AN ADDRESS. 
 
 To you, young gentlemen, who are now taking 
 your leave of this Institution, your future pros- 
 perity and promotion must be highly important 
 and interesting. The education you have acquired 
 is, with most of you, the capital with which you 
 venture forth into the commerce of life. Let 
 prudence, industry, and economy, be your constant 
 attendants. Hitherto, while intrenched in the 
 nan'ow limits of collegiate life, you have carried 
 with you the ardent wishes, and engaged the ten- 
 der anxieties of parental affection. You are now 
 entering on a different scene, where you must 
 more immediately direct and control your own 
 conduct. Of course more anxiety will follow 
 you ; and more honor, if you are wise and suc- 
 cessful. Those principles and actions, which have
 
 42 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 
 
 raised others to eminence and distinction, you 
 may expect will raise you. It is safe to follow 
 the dictates of experience — this alone ought to 
 be your guide, in all cases which fall within its 
 limits. You may consider human life, as you do 
 the science of natural philosophy, in which no real 
 and useful progress can be made without the aid of 
 experiment. Let me advise you, always to adhere 
 to the plain^ dictates of common reason, and never 
 suffer your minds and hearts to be perverted by 
 that modern, new- sprung light, which teaches its 
 disciples — that every thing which has heretofore 
 been esteemed wisdom, is folly — that all those 
 civil and religious institutions, to which mankind 
 are indebted for all their moral and intellectual 
 improvement, are systems of fraud,, founded on 
 ignorance, and supported by prejudice. The men 
 who advocate these ideas, exclusively arrogate to 
 themselves the pompous title of philosophers. 
 They consider Newton, and Locke, and Bacon, 
 and Boyle, as mere children. They cannot endure 
 such simpletons ; for they were weak and credu- 
 lous enough to believe there is a God. These 
 masters of the new school, consider it as a great 
 stigma upon their dignified independence — as a
 
 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 43 
 
 great sin against the unalienable sacred rights, 
 and liberties, of their "material frames" — to 
 receive instruction from the wisdom of past ages, 
 or from anything except their own imerring reason. 
 They cannot endure the voice of history ; because 
 this relates what ought not to have happened. 
 They consider the present race of men, as a 
 species wholly different from all those gi-ovelling 
 beings who have existed in the past ages of the 
 world. As the nature of man is found to be wholly 
 different from what it has always appeared to be, 
 new models of society and government must be 
 adopted ; for, as the scene is wholly reversed, 
 every thing which has formerly been useful, must 
 now be pernicious. Hence the world has been 
 filled witli a thousand visionary schemes, announ- 
 cing the perfectibility of man, the age of reason, 
 the empire of philosophy, the grave of immor- 
 tality, and the divinity of matter. With the 
 patrons of these schemes, it is too vulgar, to 
 believe what has heretofore been believed. They 
 must have something new — something altogether 
 of their own making ; it must be wholly detached 
 from common sense — it must be monstrous and 
 prodigious, or it is not philosophy. Novelty, to
 
 44 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 
 
 a certain class of mankind, has charms too allu- 
 ring to be resisted. Hence it is, that the modern 
 apostles of moral and political destruction obtain 
 proselytes to rash adventure, and dangerous inno- 
 vation — proselytes who, like themselves, would 
 break up the great deep, and inundate the globe. 
 Let me advise you, never to relinquish the 
 maxims of experience, and the plain dictates of 
 common sense. These will be, to you, an ark of 
 safety. When every thing around you is perish- 
 ing in the flood, the top of Ararat will sustain 
 you; and the dove, bearing the branch of the 
 olive, will fly to your windows. 
 
 I must, in the next place, guard you against a 
 disposition to neglect the opinions which are 
 formed concerning yom* conduct. Indifference to 
 censure, and applause, is the index of a heart 
 stubborn in its own pride, and hardened by its 
 own wickedness. He who can assume to himself 
 so much importance, as to see no connexion 
 between his own prosperity, and the approbation 
 of the wise and virtuous, exhibits the most 
 striking evidence that he is travelling in the broad 
 road of destruction. The principle he avows and 
 practises, is a principle of unjustifiable, savage,
 
 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 45 
 
 and ferocious independence. No one can stand 
 aloof in insulated solitude — no one has a right to 
 siuider the ligaments which bind him to the social 
 body — no one is fortified with such a mound of 
 majesty and glory, that he can need no aid, and 
 feai" no danger fi-om his fellow mortals. That 
 barbaiian pride, which disclaims all external 
 control, and sees no value, except in individual 
 importance, is the enemy of all domestic and 
 public tranquility. It is the fi-uitful source of the 
 most daring enormities — tends to prostrate every 
 useful establishment — and, if generally indulged, 
 would convert the whole civilized world into a 
 theatre of contention, of rapine, and murder. Be 
 careful, therefore, to cultivate a decent and proper 
 respect for the opinions that will be formed con- 
 cerning your conduct, and never allow yom^elves 
 to believe that the established customs of society 
 can be slighted with impunity, or subverted with- 
 out destruction of every thing valuable. 
 
 I would recommend to you, never to treat with 
 contempt, and censure, those who possess talents 
 different fi-om your own, or who profess different 
 sentiments — provided those sentiments do not 
 infiringe the essential laws of morality, and discard
 
 46 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 
 
 the solemn injimctions of religion. There is a 
 variety, no less extensive and beautiful, in the 
 intellectual and moral world, than in the natural. 
 God has seen fit to bestow, on dijfferent individuals, 
 different kinds and degrees of mental and cor- 
 poreal endowments. The sentiments and char- 
 acters of men are originated, varied, and foimed, 
 by innumerable circumstances, which appear to 
 be merely accidental. From different associations, 
 employments, and habits, which are all unavoid- 
 able in such a world as this, men necessarily 
 derive some peculiarity in their modes of think- 
 ing, reasoning, and judging. Perhaps, if the 
 differences, oppositions, and inequalities in the 
 intellectual system were destroyed, it would have 
 no more beauty to an eye, that could take it all 
 in at one view, than this earth would, if all those 
 varieties, which now render it so charming, were 
 levelled down and blended in one common surface. 
 The beneficent Creator has bestowed different 
 kinds and degrees of talents on his creatures, that 
 they might all feel their mutual connexion and 
 dependence ; tliat the intellectual universe might 
 exhibit a complete whole ; in nothing deficient, 
 nor redundant, displaying an endless succession
 
 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 47 
 
 of harmonies — neither fatiguing the mind with 
 too much uniformity, nor perplexing it with too 
 much variety. You should, therefore, strive to 
 ascertain the rank allotted yourselves, as well as 
 others, in the great and beautiful disposition of 
 Divine Providence. You will tlien be disposed, 
 neither to censure others for not being like 
 yourselves, nor to be dissatisfied with what you 
 are. If you see many above you, it is probable , 
 you will always see more below you. You ought I 
 neither to envy the former, nor despise the latter; 
 for a little reflection will convince you, that you 
 have infinitely more reason to be grateful for 
 being what you are, than to repine for not being 
 allotted a more conspicuous station. After having 
 ascertained the kind and degree of talents you 
 possess, you will be able, with much greater cer- 
 tainty, to cultivate them with succsss, and to 
 render them more useful to yourselves and others. 
 The bestowments of Divine Providence have not 
 made a greater difference in men, than the aids 
 and embellishments of education. The man who 
 possesses the greatest abilities, unimproved by 
 study and application, is a giant without skill and 
 dexterity : a dwarf, with a pebble, may level his
 
 48 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 
 
 cumbrous limbs in the dust. Whether your 
 talents are great or small, they will be of little 
 use without proper cultivation. No one can excel 
 in things to which his talents are not adapted ; 
 nor is there scarcely one, out of all the myriads of 
 human nature, who cannot excel in something. 
 The only art is, to find out what kind of capacity 
 you possess, and to apply to such studies as are 
 calculated to improve it. You cannot toil to ad- 
 vantage against nature ; but, if you add proper 
 discipline to true genius, the result will be glorious. 
 On this subject, I must address you in the elegant 
 language of Cicero : " Cum ad naturam eximiam 
 atque illustrem, accesserit ratio qusedam con- 
 formatioque doctrinse ; tum illud nescio quid 
 prsBclarum ac singulare, solere existere." The 
 same great and wonderful man ascribes all his 
 abilities in eloquence, to study and proper dis- 
 cipline. The different branches of learning bear 
 an intimate relation, not only to one another, but 
 to the different faculties of the human mind. 
 These different faculties, in order to be cultivated, 
 must be employed in their proper provinces, and 
 about their proper objects. Hence, it is obvious, 
 that in order to excel, to be really eminent in any'
 
 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS, 49 
 
 one branch of learning, it is necessary to be 
 acquainted with all. But, that you may render 
 yoiu" abilities and acquirements really usefiil — 
 that you may acquire solid gloiy and permanent 
 renown — it is essential that you keep in view, the 
 great ends of all arts and sciences. These are — 
 to fm'nish the mind witli information — to give 
 its powers their highest perfection — to form the 
 heart to rectitude and goodness — and thus, to 
 enable man to discharge the duties of life in that 
 mode, which will contribute most to the general 
 advantage of society. You will do well, in all 
 your studies and pursuits, to keep these tilings 
 in yoiur minds. 
 
 In the systems of modem education, more 
 attention seems to have been paid to enlighten 
 the understanding, tlian to meliorate the heart. 
 This is certainly a gi-eat defect ; for eminent 
 talents, and extensive acquirements, unaccom- 
 panied with moral goodness, want that attracting 
 superiority which virtue alone can give. Neither 
 the mind, nor countenance, can be truly beautiful, 
 unless suffused with tliat mild light, that ineffable 
 resistless glory, which beams from an imcoiTupted 
 heai-t. Man is not less elevated above otlier 
 
 £
 
 50 BACCALAtJREATE ADDRESS. 
 
 animals by his moral and religious capacity, than 
 by his rational faculties and scientific acquu'e- 
 ments. The moral sense with which he is en- 
 dowed adds an incalculable value to his existence. 
 Were he insensible to the beauty of virtue, and 
 the deformity of vice — were he not endowed with 
 a consciousness that his knowledge of right and 
 wrong inheres in an immortal principle — he 
 could neither enjoy the transports of divine 
 benediction, nor ascend to the sublime contem- 
 plation of the Supreme Being. Man's taste for 
 moral excellence lays the foundation for an end- 
 less progression in perfection and felicity. It is 
 to this taste that the great law of God is imme- 
 diately addressed, requiring of man perfect and 
 unchanging love. Were this law universally com- 
 plied with, all would be happy ; because their 
 affections would be fixed on an object possessing 
 infinite excellence. Imperfection would be lost 
 in improvement ; sin and sorrow would cease ; 
 all hearts would bound towards the som-ce of 
 infinite goodness ; and the whole intellectual 
 universe would for ever brighten under the eye 
 of its Creator. Let me, then, beseech you not 
 to neglect the proper exercise and cultivation of
 
 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 61 
 
 those moral powers which you have received 
 from the hand of divine beneficence. 
 
 To this important end, I must recommend to 
 you the most serious and careiiil attention to the 
 sacred Scriptures. In these alone are contained 
 those truths and doctrines, the belief and practice 
 of which are essential to your highest happiness, 
 in time and eternity. Among the numerous 
 reasons for recommending the Scriptures to you, 
 I shall, on this occasion, mention but two. The 
 first is, that the Scriptures alone teach the real 
 nature of God. A belief in his existence has per- 
 vaded all nations, from the remotest antiquity. 
 This belief, however, seems not to have produced 
 any solid advantage to mankind, since it left them 
 wholly ignorant of the nature of God. When 
 philosophers began to reason concerning the 
 Divinity, they all agreed, except a few, as to his 
 existence; but, as to his nature, disagreed with 
 each other, no less than with truth. Their utmost 
 researches added nothing to what had already 
 been believed. So true is it, that " The world 
 by wisdom knew not God." This single circum- 
 stance is sufficient to evince, to an unprejudiced 
 mind, the necessity and propriety of a super- 
 
 E 2
 
 62 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 
 
 natural revelation. To the researches of the 
 ancient philosophers, respecting the Supreme 
 Being, the deists of modern times have added 
 nothing valuable, except what they have derived 
 from that revelation which they profess to reject. 
 Being ignorant, as all must necessarily be, of the 
 moral perfections of God, while destitute of reve- 
 lation, they can ascertain no immutable law of 
 conduct for rational creatures, nor can they exhibit 
 any definite motives to excite to the practice of 
 virtue. Of course pm'e deism, as to the high end 
 of man's existence, has very little advantage over 
 atheism : perhaps it has none — for though it 
 admits a God, it cannot tell what he is — it cannot 
 explain his nature. This cannot be much superior 
 to that scheme which admits no God, and, of 
 course, cannot explain any thing. The truth is, 
 none but God could know his own perfections 
 and designs, and none but he could disclose them. 
 In the great and splendid fabric of the universe, 
 God has hung out the ensigns of his infinite wis- 
 dom and power ; but he has not here exhibited 
 those perfections which it is most essential for 
 man to know. The light of nature does not 
 afibrd sufficient knowledge to guide mankind to
 
 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 53 
 
 happiness; nor does it present a mode of in- 
 struction adapted to their state and capacity. The 
 great body of mankind never contemplate the 
 causes and principles of things ; they never 
 examine the mechanism, order, and harmony of 
 the universe. To gain from these any consider- 
 able knowledge of God, requires time, application, 
 much study, and great talents. This is evident, 
 from the consideration that so few of the ancient 
 philosophers, though possessed of superior genius, 
 acquired any tolerable notions concerning the 
 Deity. The light of nature, or what is called 
 natural religion, wholly fails in the knowledge of 
 those things most essential to man. Did any 
 one ever discover, from the works of creation, the 
 nature of sin and holiness ; the nature of accep- 
 table worship ; the certainty of a future state of 
 rewards for the righteous, and punishments for 
 the wicked ? Did any one ever discover, from 
 the works of creation, the divine placability — 
 that God could consistently pardon sin, and that 
 he would actually do it, on any conditions ? In 
 these respects, the light of nature is " darkness 
 visible." We can conceive of no way, except by 
 a direct revelation, in which we can know the
 
 64 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 
 
 moral perfections of God, the dispositions of his 
 mind, and his determinations concerning sinful 
 beings. To know these things is surely of the 
 highest importance ; and these are no where to 
 be known, except from the Scriptures. A child, 
 by reading these a few hours, can obtain more 
 knowledge of the true God, than the numerous 
 phalanx of heathen philosophers did, during 
 their whole lives. I am persuaded, young gen- 
 tlemen, if you consider this subject attentively, 
 you must admit the propriety and necessity of 
 revelation, and must acknowledge the excellency 
 of that contained in the Bible. Here is a religion, 
 plain and intelligible in all its practical truths, 
 accommodated to all classes of mankind — to 
 every capacity — revealing the true God, not only 
 to the intellect, but to the heart. What would 
 have been the language and conduct of Socrates 
 and Cicero, if, in the midst of their anxious 
 researches after God, they had suddenly been 
 favored with the Bible ? They would have 
 clasped it to their hearts, and wet it with their 
 tears. Like Archimedes, when he discovered a 
 geometrical truth, they would have run into the 
 streets of Athens and Rome, exclaiming, with
 
 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 66 
 
 gratitude and joy, " I have found it ! I have 
 found it ! " I am persuaded, you can neither be 
 willing to live nor die without the knowledge of 
 the true God ; and I am equally persuaded, that 
 you can obtain this knowledge no where, except 
 in the Scriptures. 
 
 The second reason why I would recommend 
 to you the Scriptures is, that they alone inform 
 us in what man's highest good or happiness con- 
 sists. This was one of the great points that was 
 agitated in the schools of ancient philosophy. 
 Daily experience evinced that man, not only 
 possessed an invincible aversion to misery, but 
 an inextinguishable ardor for happiness. To 
 guard him against incessant confusion, errors, 
 and crimes, it seemed of the highest importance, 
 to direct all his desires and exertions towards 
 certain objects capable of affording him gratifi- 
 cation and enjoyment. Hence opened a vast 
 field for philosophic research and investigation. 
 Ample opportunity was afforded for the exercise 
 of the human mind, in discovering the greatest 
 good, and pointing out the method in which it 
 could be attained. How ineffectual the exertions 
 and researches of the philosophers were, is very
 
 56 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 
 
 apparent from the single circumstance, that they 
 placed man's highest happiness in nothing 
 beyond the present life. Unassisted by revela- 
 tion, they knew not the rewards of virtue, 
 nor the transports of immortal existence. They, 
 in general, held it as a principle, that the 
 supreme good consisted in living according to 
 natm-e ; though their explanations of this prin- 
 ciple were widely different. To live according to 
 natm'e, as the Epicureans explained it, was to 
 live in pleasure ; as the Stoics and Perip ate ticks 
 explained it, it was to possess and practise virtue, 
 though they seem not to have known in what 
 true virtue consisted. Their wise man was their 
 virtuous man ; and their virtuous man was their 
 happy man. This same man, whom they would 
 style a Sage, they represented as perfect, unmoved 
 by the calamities of life, void of sympathy, pity, 
 and compassion. In short, he was destitute of 
 every quality which constitutes a really good man. 
 Their scheme, like that of the Epicureans, was 
 pregnant with ruin. The first, destroyed nature 
 by too much severity ; the last, by too much 
 indulgence. Man, in his present fallen state, 
 unassisted by revelation, is ignorant of the
 
 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 57 
 
 supreme good. Of coirrse he is guided by no 
 fixed principle, and is carried forward to no 
 detei-minate end. He wanders, like a bewildered 
 traveller, amidst a thousand objects which 
 alliure and disappoint him. Mistaking the means 
 for the end, he grasps with avidity the small por- 
 tions of good attached to sensible objects, and 
 bounds all his happiness by the limits of the 
 present world. How surprising it is, that men, 
 even in the present day, should assert the suf- 
 ficiency of the light of nature, though experience 
 has always evinced it to be insufficient ! How 
 surprising, that reason should be held up as an 
 unerring guide, when it has left the wisest 
 of mortals in utter uncertainty as to the 
 tnie God, and the highest happiness of man ! 
 That may be defined the supreme good, on 
 which all other good depends. Of course, 
 man's highest happiness is nowhere to be 
 found, but in God ; in a resemblance and par- 
 ticipation of the divine nature. For the mode 
 in which men are enriched with these blessings, 
 I must refer you to the sacred pages. You will 
 there behold the divine life assuming the empire 
 of the heart— fixing it on God — controlling aiid
 
 58 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 
 
 purifying its affections — filling it with celestial 
 tranquillity — inspiring it with the animating hope 
 of deliverance from evil — and finally instating it 
 in the mansions of eternal beatitude. Divine 
 revelation ptesents to the soul an object, in every 
 respect adequate to its most ardent desires after 
 happiness. Infinite amiableness, worth, and 
 excellence, for ever inhere in the supreme God ; 
 and, when properly viewed, acknowledged, and 
 loved, fire the heart with a rapture, which neither 
 the misfortunes of life, nor the terrors of death, 
 can extinguish. 
 
 Suffer me, young gentlemen, in the close of 
 this address, to solicit your attention to the sacred 
 Scriptures, remembering that they alone reveal 
 to you the true God, and prescribe the only mode 
 in which you can rationally expect eternal felicity. 
 Let it not be to you " condemnation that light 
 has come into the world," but gratefully receive 
 it, and follow its brightness. It will present to 
 you a most intimate and interesting connexion 
 between the present and future world. It will 
 guide your feet in the paths of peace ; it will 
 teach you to derive all the importance of time 
 from eternity ; it will dart its effulgence through
 
 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 59 
 
 the gloomy vale of death, and display to your 
 astonished view the celestial Paradise, blooming 
 and brightening under the smiles of infinite love. 
 While you look forward to that glorious state, be 
 careful to make the precepts of the Christian 
 religion the rules of your conduct. You will 
 til en travel on through life without guilt, and 
 through death without fear. It is safe to trust 
 in a religion which has triumphed, as Christianity 
 has, over the most violent and powerful enemies. 
 The arrows of infidelity, and the swords of 
 despotic power, have been blimted against her 
 adamantine shield. The sinews which hurled 
 the former, and wielded the latter, have been 
 crumbled ; and the wounds they inflicted, have 
 called down the vengeance of Heaven. Kemem- 
 ber then, that you trust to a religion which has 
 sustained thousands in the greatest dangers, in 
 the darkest scenes of adversity ; and has borne 
 them in triumph from the most tremendous 
 conflicts. 
 
 I must now, gentlemen, part with you. Be 
 assm-ed that I shall always reflect with pleasure 
 on the honorable manner, in which you have 
 acquitted yourselves in this college ; and, I can-
 
 60 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 
 
 not but persuade myself, that you will continue to 
 cherish and respect the principles and science of 
 morality and religion, which you have here 
 imbibed. With a heart filled with parental affec- 
 tion, I request you to accept my most ardent 
 wishes for your prosperity. Nothing will give 
 me more real satisfaction, than to see you rise and 
 shine among the brightest stars in the firmament. 
 May you be favored with health, with peace, and 
 plenty — may you obtain honor, reputation, fame, 
 solid glory, and immortal renown. May yom- 
 lives be a catalogue of patriotic, beneficent, gen- 
 erous, magnanimous actions — may you increase 
 in knowledge, in virtue, in benevolence to man, 
 and in piety to God, till you are prepared for the 
 splendours of immortality — till you are assiu'ed 
 " that your names are ■svritten in heaven," and 
 can behold them brightening in the margin of 
 eternity. Actuated with these sentiments, 
 gentlemen, I now bid you farewell.
 
 
 AN ADDEESS, 
 
 DBLITEBED TO THF 
 
 GRADUATES OF BROWN UNIVERSITY, 
 
 AT THE PUBLIC COMMENCEMENT, 
 
 September Ul, 1802.
 
 AN ADDKESS, 
 
 In addressing you, young gentlemen, on this 
 occasion, I am impelled, not by the force of 
 custom only, but by inclination, and a desire for 
 your prosperity. As you have now completed 
 the course of your collegiate education, you are, 
 doubtless, filled with no small anxiety as to the 
 business you are to pursue in life. That you 
 make a right choice in this respect, is of the 
 highest consequence to your welfare and happi- 
 ness. For, if you engage in pm-suits to which 
 you are not strongly attached, or to which your 
 abilities are not peculiarly fitted, you cannot 
 expect to prosper. You ought, therefore, par- 
 ticularly to consider your natural inclination, 
 your acquirements, and talents. To excel in a 
 learned profession, you must not . only love it.
 
 64 COLLEGIATE ADDRESS. 
 
 but you must admire it. You must prefer it, 
 with a partiality which borders on enthusiasm. 
 None but voluntary worshippers can obtain a 
 place in the temple of fame. 
 
 You have now arrived at a most important 
 period in life ; a period in which you must begin 
 to reduce scientific acquirement to practical wis- 
 dom. The former, is the result of study and 
 attention ; the latter, of skill in moral adjustment 
 and proportion. By the former, you become 
 learned ; and, by the latter, prudent. Both must 
 unite in the formation of a character great and 
 useful. Study, and abstract speculation, give the 
 mind a range too uncircumscribed, and a direc- 
 tion too indefinite ; and, of course, before they 
 can be really useful, must be modelled and 
 limited by observation and practice. You will 
 find that many things, which in theory appear 
 consistent and beautiful, will, when brought to 
 the test of experiment, appear disjointed and 
 deformed. A mere philosopher, a thorough-bred 
 metaphysician, is, of all characters, the least 
 qualified to judge of human afiairs ; to organize, 
 and bring into operation, extensive plans of 
 utility. He is, at the same time, of all chaxacters
 
 COLLEGIATE ADDRESS. 65 
 
 the most tenacious of his own opinions ; because, 
 to his own mind, they are speculatively true : 
 whereas, to a plain, practical man, they are down- 
 right falsities. Berkley could philosophize him- 
 self into a belief of the non-existence of matter, 
 though he would shrink at a blow from the spit 
 of his ancient master. Hume could so completely 
 abscond from common sense — he could so far 
 retire into the barren solitudes of metaphysics — 
 as to believe that he had neither body nor mind : 
 and yet, with all his philosophy, he was obliged 
 to eat, and drink, and sleep, like other men. 
 Abstract studies, pursued beyond a certain limit, 
 appear to produce a kind of mental insanity; 
 and, instead of aiding the great end of learning 
 — the perfection of nature — accomplish its des- 
 truction. Let me advise you to pursue that 
 method, and kind of study, which experience has 
 proved most useful : for it is by this alone, that 
 the value of all learning must be ascertained. 
 " Letters," says Lord Bacon, " do not sufficiently 
 teach their own use ; " but this is a wisdom 
 beyond and above tliem, gained by observation. 
 It is natural and reasonable to believe, that 
 those studies which men of genius, taste, and 
 
 F
 
 66 COLLEGIATE ADDRESS, 
 
 erudition, have cultivated and admired, ought to 
 claim a large portion of your attention. Though 
 many of the moderns have been disposed to dis- 
 card the study of ancient languages — yet the bene- 
 ficial e£Fect8 of these have been so conspicuous in 
 the greatest statesmen, orators, poets, and theo- 
 logians, that we ought unquestionably to retain 
 them, and hold them as an important and essential 
 part of education. Scarcely can you find an eminent 
 man, in modern times, who has not fonned his 
 genius, and acquired his taste and talents for 
 executing works of immortal renown, by a 
 thorough study of the Greek and Koman classics. 
 This circumstance ought to have great weight 
 with every young man who wishes to become 
 eminently distinguished. It is objected, that 
 we have translations of the most valuable writers. 
 It may also be said, that we have Washington 
 and Franklin in wax ; but we must remember 
 that the great men are not here — we do not here 
 behold the saviour of liis country, nor the subduer 
 of the skies. No study is so well calculated to bring 
 forward and invigorate the powers of youth, as 
 the study of languages. This is a constant exer- 
 cise of their invention, memory, and judgment.
 
 COLLEGIATE ADDRESS. 67 
 
 and is better accommodated to tlieir capacities 
 than any other. The habit of attention, and the 
 mental energy which are acquired in the study 
 of ancient languages, are of the highest impor- 
 tance. In these youth are obliged to apply, and 
 be industrious, or they cannot succeed. They 
 will get that thoroughly for which they are obliged 
 to labor, and will never forget it. I believe 
 Dr. Blair's observation is true, " that learning and 
 good taste will flourish, or decline, as the learned 
 languages are cultivated or neglected." I would 
 recommend to you the farther study of these 
 in the best authors; not that their ideas are 
 more just, or their learning more profound than 
 those of many moderns, but because from them 
 you will imbibe the spirit of true genius, and 
 habituate yourselves to their superior elegance 
 and beauty. Of course, when you attempt to 
 perform works of genius, the fire of ancient times 
 will kindle within you. The spirit of Homer 
 and Demosthenes, of Cicero and Virgil, will 
 thrill through every fibre of the soul. These sons 
 of Minerva will rise from the dead, and appear 
 in bodies new and incorruptible. It is no small 
 recommendation to the ancient languages, that 
 
 f2
 
 68 COLLEGIATE ADDRESS. 
 
 those who have been most thoroughly acquainted 
 with them, have generally been most eminent in 
 other branches of learning. 
 
 You ought by no means to think of relinquish- 
 ing the study of the arts and sciences, merely 
 because you have passed through the usual 
 collegiate course, or, because your labors are 
 chiefly to be employed in one profession. What 
 you have already obtained, is merely to enable 
 you to pm'sue further, and to greater advantage. 
 One of the most difficult, and, at the same time, 
 most important acquirements, is a habit of atten- 
 tion, a power to command, arrange, and connect 
 your thoughts. This habit, however, may be 
 induced by proper discipline. For this piu-pose, 
 mathematical studies are recommended. They 
 possess this peculiar and distinguishing property, 
 that they exclude all operations of imagination. 
 They are definite, closely connected in all their 
 parts, and bend the mind to truth by rigid 
 demonstration. The habits of attention and 
 acuteness which you acquire in mathematical 
 science, will accompany you in your other literary 
 labors, and manifest itself in the productions of 
 yom' own genius.
 
 COLLEGIATE ADDRESS. 69 
 
 If you design yourselves for any of the learned 
 professions, you ought particularly to cultivate 
 Logic, and Khetoric. These will prepare you 
 for the field of contention. They will enable 
 you to discipline your powers, to call forth all 
 your resources, and to display them to the great- 
 est advantage. Logic will enable you to convince, 
 and rhetoric, to persuade. The first is subservient 
 to the understanding ; the latter to the imagi- 
 nation. As rhetoric is employed in forming 
 agreeable images, and raising pleasant emotions, 
 witli a view to impress truth more forcibly on 
 the mind, the study of this is generally preferred 
 by the young, to the study of logic. The last, 
 however, forms a very valuable part of a learned 
 education ; and will be rendered more interesting 
 if it is preceded by that branch of metaphysics 
 which relates to the philosophy of the human 
 mind. 
 
 In the next place, if you wish to become 
 capable of deep research and accurate investi- 
 gation, you must apply to the study of Natural 
 Philosophy. This noble science will teach you 
 to explain the various phenomena of nature, by 
 resolving them into the operations of original and
 
 70 COLLEGIATE ADDRESS. 
 
 universal laws. The seeming irregularities, and 
 disjointed appearances in the material system, 
 stimulate curiosity to discover their hidden con- 
 nections. The mind, from its tendency to order 
 and systematic arrangement, proceeds with plea- 
 sure in resolving particular facts into general 
 principles, ascertains the connections between 
 these, until it renders the theatre of nature a 
 coherent and magnificent spectacle. Here the 
 philosophical enquirer becomes disembarrassed 
 of vidgar prejudices — feels his mind invigorated 
 and enlarged — beholds order and harmony spring- 
 ing out of apparent confusion — and, while he 
 traces the final causes of things, is led with 
 gratitude and wonder to the great efficient cause 
 of all. Natural philosophy, rightly pursued, is 
 theology, and will prove one of the best helps to 
 interpret divine revelation. This science, of 
 course, is of vast importance — because it respects 
 you as rational and religious beings. 
 
 Another branch of learning, which I would 
 recommend to your particular attention, is Criti- 
 cism. This respects all the productions of 
 genius in the fine arts, and teaches you to dis- 
 tinguish what is defective, what is decent and
 
 COLLEGIATE ADDRESS. 71 
 
 proper, grand, sublime, and beautiful. Some 
 have supposed that there is no invariable standard 
 of taste, and that criticism is left to fluctuate with 
 the caprice of every individual. If this is the 
 case, how has it happened, that certain produc- 
 tions of genius have, in every age and nation, 
 excited universal applause and admiration ? 
 How has it happened, that all are pleased with 
 the fine arts, if there are not certain fixed prin- 
 ciples in human natiu-e to which those arts apply, 
 and with which they accord ? Why are we 
 pleased with a certain degree of order and con- 
 nection, of uniformity and variety, unless it is, 
 that these control, direct, and influence, within 
 certain limits, the train of perceptions and ideas 
 in our own minds ? Tine criticism is, undoubt- 
 edly, a rational science, founded on principles in 
 the nature of man. These principles, so far as 
 they respect the sensitive branch of our nature, 
 coincide with those which govern in morals. He 
 who studies criticism as a science, will observe 
 the same refined and correct feelings springing 
 up within him, as he observes excited and 
 required by the precepts of moral philosophy. 
 If, in tracing the connection between the fine arts
 
 72 COLLEGIATE ADDRESS. 
 
 and those feelings which are excited through the 
 eye and ear, we accustom oui'selves to distinguish 
 what is beautiful and what deformed, what is 
 proper and what is improj)er, we shall natm-ally 
 transfer the same taste and the same habit into 
 our researches, concerning the propriety or 
 impropriety of human actions. Hence, the 
 science of criticism is of vast importance as a sup- 
 port to morality, independent of the ornament 
 and splendour which it enables true genius to 
 display. When you can assign a reason for the 
 pleasure you derive from the fine arts, your 
 enjoyment is doubled ; because you experience 
 the combined pleasures of judgment and sensi- 
 bility. Hence, criticism occupies a middle 
 station between the higher senses and the 
 intellect. It unites sentiment and reason — 
 enlivens and imj)roves both. 
 
 Another science, which occupies a higher sta- 
 tion, and which I would earnestly recommend to 
 yom' attention, is Ethics. The great end of 
 this science is, to bring all our affections and 
 actions into subjection to the dictates of reason, 
 and the injunctions of revelation. To accom- 
 plish this, it unfolds the ground, the natiu'e and
 
 COLLEGIATE ADDRESS. 73 
 
 extent of moral obligation, points out the nature 
 of virtue and vice, ascertains the duties we owe 
 to God, to ourselves, and to our fellow-men in 
 all the relations of solitude, domestic life, 
 political and religious society. The habit of 
 studying and investigating those things which 
 respect you as moral, accountable agents, will 
 inspire you with a high sense of decency and 
 propriety, which will add splendour to all yoiu" 
 literary acquirements, and give a right direction 
 to all your faculties. In your researches into 
 moral philosophy, be careful not to depart from 
 the principles of yoiu* own natm'e ; for moral 
 rules, not conformable to these, are impracticable, 
 and, of course, useless. In ethics, metaphysical 
 specidations are of no consequence. They are 
 tenants for life in the clouds, and cannot, like the 
 philosophy of Socrates, be brought down from 
 heaven, and established in cities and families. 
 The consideration of your own powers and talents, 
 compared with your situation, must suggest the 
 rule of duty, and point out the force of obliga- 
 tion. We are so constituted, that the moral 
 sense accompanies reason in all its disquisitions 
 about right and wrong, about virtue and vice.
 
 74 COLLEGIATE ADDRESS, 
 
 Though moral obligation is imposed on all ra- 
 tional beings, by the standard of all perfection, 
 yet this obligation can never exceed their ability 
 to perform. God can never require impossibilities 
 of his creatures. The instant we perceive that an 
 injunction exceeds our capacity, we pronounce 
 it unreasonable, and become discouraged. A 
 mole cannot be censured for not taking in the 
 universe with its eye ; nor a gnat for not shading 
 the orbit of Saturn with its wing. Man is neither 
 so great nor so small as some have supposed him. 
 He can neither comprehend infinity, nor does he 
 sink below nothing. He has intellect and will, 
 but he is limited within a certain sphere. His 
 duty, so far as reason can go, is to be deduced 
 from a consideration of his powers, from fact and 
 experiment. 
 
 The next science, which I would recommend to 
 your particular attention, is Theology. This, 
 of all others, is most im2:»ortant. It embraces 
 your highest interests in life, in death, and in 
 eternity. The sciences I have already mentioned, 
 seem calculated, by furnishing you with know- 
 ledge and mental energy, to give you a distin- 
 guished rank among men. Theology, by inspiring
 
 COLLEGIATE ADDRESS. 75 
 
 you with just sentiments of Deity, will ally you 
 to all his perfections, and give you assurance of 
 an eternal inheritance in his kingdom. This 
 exalted science unfolds the existence, perfections, 
 providence, laws, designs, and works of God. 
 It teaches you what you must believe, and what 
 you must practice, to secure the divine appro- 
 bation, and obtain eternal felicity. Theology 
 deduces moral obligation from the absolute per- 
 fection of God, and enjoins the performance of 
 duties by motives drawn from eternity. Human 
 philosophy cannot stretch out an arm to support 
 and conduct you beyond the limits of time. It 
 exhibits you acting for a few moments on a nar- 
 row stage, and then loses sight of you for ever. 
 But divine philosophy exhibits you, while in 
 this world, as in the embryo of yom* existence ; 
 and, while it announces to you that you must 
 dissolve and die, assures you, by tlie most im- 
 pressive proofs, that you shall rise to a state 
 incorruptible and interminable. The value and 
 importance of man are no where seen but in the 
 light of eternity. Here you behold him moving 
 fonvard in rapid progression, enlarging in capa-
 
 76 COLLEGIATE ADDRESS. 
 
 city, and for ever approximating the source of 
 infinite perfection. 
 
 I must recommend these things to yom- con- 
 sideration, hoping that they will engage you in 
 a vigorous pursuit of human and divine loiowledge. 
 The limits prescribed me on this occasion forbid 
 me to enlarge. Before I part with you, I feel it my 
 duty to declare, in this public manner, that your 
 moral conduct and literary proficiency, have ex- 
 cited sentiments of the highest esteem and most 
 cordial friendship, in the hearts of those who 
 have had the care of yom' education. May 
 you rapidly progi-ess in knowledge and virtue. 
 Remember at all times that you are in the hand 
 of God ; that you are accountable to him for 
 your conduct ; that your characters are forming 
 for eternity ; and that its joys, or woes, must be 
 your portion. Impressed with anxious solicitude 
 for your prosperity, I now, gentlemen, bid you 
 farewell.
 
 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS, 
 
 DELITEKEO AT THE 
 
 SOUTH CAKOLINA COLLEGE, 
 
 December 2nd, 1816.
 
 AN ADDKESS. 
 
 To you, young gentlemen, the present, is per- 
 haps, the most important period of life. You 
 are now about to commence a new caxeer ; to 
 engage in new pursuits; to display yourselves on 
 the great theatre of the world; to bring into 
 exercise the powers and the virtues which you 
 have cultivated ; and to convert to private and 
 public use, the learning and talents which you 
 have acquired in the shades of retirement. On 
 the determinations which you now make, and 
 the plans of conduct which you now adopt, 
 depend your future prosperity and honor ; or 
 your ill fortune and disgrace. On your enlarge- 
 ment from the restrsiints and discipline of colle- 
 giate life, some of you are filled with joyous 
 hopes, others with anxious fears, and all, I pre-
 
 80 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 
 
 sume, with an honorable ambition. On you are 
 iixed the eyes and the hearts of your parents and 
 friends. From you they hojie and expect much. 
 And did they not, from experience, know the 
 dangers to which you are exposed — did they not 
 know the real evils of life — their pleasure on this 
 occasion would be free from intruding anxiety ; 
 their pleasing anticipations of yom* future glory, 
 would fill their minds with enchanting visions ; 
 and their hoj)es, strong and free, would spring 
 and smile like a morning without clouds. But 
 alas ! they know that there is no unmixed good in 
 this world ; that all things here exist by oppo- 
 sition and correspondence ; that wherever there 
 is good, there is evil ; wherever there is safety, 
 there is danger ; wherever there is hope, there is 
 fear : in short, that human life is a feverish 
 dream of honor and shame, of joy and sorrow ; 
 a compound of lawless ambition and brutal 
 violence ; that, in all nations, force ultimately 
 triumphs over justice ; liberty sinks into the 
 gulf of tyranny ; that innocence is no secmity ; 
 that virtue and learning, philosojjhy and elo- 
 quence, all the glory and all the dignity of man, 
 must at last bow to the sword of a Csesar, or a
 
 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 81 
 
 Bonaparte ; that such is the mixture of moral 
 and physical ill, in all parts of natm'e, and in all 
 human affairs, that, after a certain period, evil 
 begins to predominate over good ; death gains 
 upon life ; ruin follows ruin, till the majesty of 
 viitue is forgotten ; tlie splendour of genius ex- 
 tinguished ; the most sacred laws trampled under 
 foot; man degi-aded to a slave ; all the monuments 
 of his art and skill defaced ; all his lofty, intel- 
 lectual, and moral endowments sunk, degraded, 
 and lost in barbarism. But you must learn not 
 to despair. As human life is, evil does not, on 
 the whole, predominate. A virtuous, wise, and 
 courageous man, will find much to hope for, and 
 much to enjoy. Conscious of liis own rectitude, 
 he will possess peace within, and the light of 
 immortality will dispel the horrors with which 
 he is smTounded. You will do well to remember, 
 that tlie present world is a state of discipline, 
 where you must struggle with adversity to in- 
 vigorate your virtue ; where God has intermingled 
 various degrees of pleasm-e and pain, of good 
 and evil, that, finding nothing here to satisfy the 
 immortal mind, you might elevate your afiections 
 and hopes to a state of pure and imperishable 
 
 o
 
 82 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 
 
 joys. To act conscientiously, or as you are con- 
 vinced is right, is a rule of universal application, 
 and is in its nature calculated to produce happi- 
 ness. A rational and moral agent cannot exist 
 independent of a law which prescribes and enforces 
 his duty. Eight and wrong are wholly relative. 
 They refer to a law which we consider as a stan- 
 dard of rectitude. This makes the eternal dif- 
 ference between right and wrong, good and evil. 
 The idea of a law, imjolies that of a lawgiver, 
 possessed of a right, flowing from his own excel- 
 lence and underived supremacy, to prescribe 
 laws to all inferior dependent beings ; and who 
 has power to enforce those laws by adequate 
 sanctions. Man is the only animal on the globe 
 who has the power of governing himself by law, 
 and, when he does this, he is a moral agent : — 
 that is, he acts from respect to a law, whose obli- 
 gatory power he recognizes. The morality of his 
 actions consists in their relation to this law; and 
 this relation is the only foundation of moral good 
 and evil. The tendency of all the laws which 
 God has established, is to universal and perfect 
 happiness. This would certainly be the result, 
 were the requisitions of these laws fully complied
 
 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 83 
 
 with. The misery of man arises from his abuse 
 of his moral Hberty — ^from his vohmtary discon- 
 formity to the will of his Creator. This is the 
 true origin of all the evil and misery that ever 
 did, or ever will, exist. The truth of this is 
 apparent from the single consideration, that in a 
 being wholly conformed to God, there can no 
 more exist sin or misery than in God himself. 
 You are so constituted, that you cannot remain 
 indiflferent to human actions. When you perceive 
 these to be conformed to the nile of right, a sense 
 of approbation rises up in the mind ; when dis- 
 conformed, of disapprobation. In both cases, 
 you exercise moral sense. Be not deceived, 
 therefore, by imagining that conscience, or moral 
 sense, is the creature of education — a mere adven- 
 titious acquisition. God has not rested the virtue 
 and happiness of his rational creatures on so 
 uncertain a foundation. Conscience is as much an 
 original j)ower of our nature as the understanding 
 — though it does not, like the understtmding, 
 act alone, in any instance. The operations of 
 intellect must always precede ; for, unless you 
 know that there are such things as law and obli- 
 gation, you can have no perception of right and 
 
 G 2
 
 84 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 
 
 wrong, of merit or demerit, and, of course, no 
 exercise of moral sense. All om" powers are 
 evolved in a certain order — exercised in their 
 proper sj)lieres, and in their peculiar relations 
 and dependencies. The operations of moral sense, 
 though in order subsequent to those of intellect, 
 are wholly diiferent from them. If the operations 
 of intellect prove it to be an original power of 
 the mind, the operations of moral sense equally 
 prove it to be an original power of the mind. 
 You will perceive, therefore, that virtue is not 
 left unsupported ; that it is not left doubtful as 
 to its motive, its nature, or its end. You carry 
 in yourselves the incitement, the rule, and the 
 reward. By admitting that the moral sense springs 
 up from the original frame of your nature, you 
 cannot avoid the obligation of doing right, nor the 
 censm'e and misery of doing Avrong. If you would, 
 then, possess an approving conscience, take care 
 to inform yourselves what is right — to know the 
 natm'e and extent of your obligations and duties. 
 If you strictly adhere to these, you will be vir- 
 tuous, and, in proportion as you are vfrtuous, 
 God has ordained that you shall be happy. You 
 are not bound down by an invincible law of
 
 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 85 
 
 nature to be virtuous, because God has given 
 you power to become vicious and miserable. In 
 short, your power to do wrong is the same as 
 yom: power to do right. In both cases, the good 
 or iU use of this power is left to your own choice. 
 Remember, then, that your own vu-tue, respecta- 
 bility, happiness, and fame, depend on yourselves. 
 Never leave to accident, or an imaginary fataUty, 
 what God has put in your power. Honor and vir- 
 tue drop not jfrom the clouds ; the winds will not 
 bring you bread ; nor will the earth reach out a 
 scepti'e to your hand. God offers you his bounty, 
 but leaves the improvement of it to yourselves. 
 
 You have every motive, therefore, to excite 
 you to the most vigorous exertion of all your 
 powers, to know and discharge your duties. 
 These relate to God, to yourselves, and to your 
 fellow-men. All your relations involve duties ; 
 and the importance of the latter is in proportion 
 to the intimacy of the former. Of course your 
 duties to your Creator demand your first and 
 highest regard. From him you have derived 
 your being ; on him you are wholly dependent ; 
 and to him you are amenable. The full homage 
 of tlie heart, while it is justly due to him, lays
 
 86 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 
 
 the only foundation of true virtue, and constitutes 
 the only guarantee of your other duties. If you 
 know, and love, and fear God, you will pay all 
 suitable respect to yourselves, and to your fellow- 
 men ; and you will, in all things, act consci- 
 entiously. This alone will give you stability in 
 principle, energy in action, and dignity in cha- 
 racter. Consider not, as is frequently done, the 
 service of God as a wearisome burden. It is the 
 highest glory and privilege of all intelligent 
 beings. The laws of God are all just ; his re- 
 quirements all reasonable, suitable to your state 
 and capacity, and directly conducive to your 
 happiness. He acts ii-om no necessity towards 
 you. He needs neither yoiu* love nor your ser- 
 vice ; for these can add nothing to an infinite 
 being. All he desires is your happiness ; and 
 this he piu-sues by all means consistent with your 
 natures, as free and accountable creatures. The 
 true happiness of an intelligent being springs 
 from virtue, and virtue from freedom. Hence, it 
 is evident that omnijiotence itself cannot make 
 you happy by ai'bitraiy in-esistible force ; for this 
 would destroy your moral agency, and convert 
 you into brutes or machines. Your happiness.
 
 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 87 
 
 and that of all rational, accountable beings, is 
 the hapjjiuess of free will. Choose, therefore, 
 the service of God ; conform your actions to his 
 laws; yield up your affections wholly to him; 
 for every thing appertaining to this world will 
 ultimately leave you wretched. When a due 
 reverence for the Supreme Being is established 
 in the heart, the empire of virtue will be secured ; 
 because you will then consider all the relative 
 duties of life as duties to God. In a life of vir- 
 tue, the greatest victory to be obtained is over 
 yourselves. The heart of man, the seat of all his 
 appetites and passions, is the source of all his vices 
 and crimes, and of most of his eiTors. Keason 
 and conscience were designed for his governors ; 
 but, in his present fallen state, the authority of 
 these is opposed, and not unfrequently wholly 
 renounced. The soul loses its freedom, with its 
 peace, and sinks into the dreadful empire of 
 death. If you would preserve yourselves from 
 this deplorable state, stifle the first suggestion 
 of evil ; resist the fii'st approach of temptation ; 
 and keep your hearts with all diligence. Thus 
 acting, you will be masters of yoiuselves; you 
 will be able to cultivate, with success, every per-
 
 88 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 
 
 sonal virtue ; and to acquire every useful and 
 amiable accomplishment. Thoug'h the rule of 
 right applies as directly to the duties owing to 
 ourselves, and to om" fellow-men, as to those 
 owing to God, yet it somehow happens, that 
 most men are disposed to disregard their own 
 personal, more than their relative obligations, 
 especially those which involve the duties of self- 
 denial. This is a great and dangerous error; 
 for no man can injure himself by vice or neglect 
 without directly or remotely injuring others. You 
 are as much responsible for the influence of your 
 example on others, as for the ill effects of your 
 actions on yourselves. Eemember that personal 
 virtue is the foundation of all real worth ; of all 
 true dignity of character ; of all genuine piety to 
 God ; and of the most extensive usefulness to 
 mankind. In proportion as a man becomes 
 vicious, he renders himself incapable of doing 
 good ; destroys his own peace, and that of others; 
 perverts the noble end of his being; soils every 
 shining quality ; and degrades every intellectual 
 and moral endowment. The danger of immoral 
 example arises chiefly from wrong notions of 
 true happiness, and from want of reflection and
 
 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 89 
 
 due consideration. Vice, if properly seen, can- 
 not, like virtue, spread on the principle of sym- 
 pathetic association. A rational, sensitive being, 
 cannot deliberately choose miseiy. If you 
 examine the laws and principles which God has 
 established in your nature ; if you compare these 
 with the injunctions of his revealed will, you will 
 perceive a wonderful coincidence; and all your 
 inquiries, if impartiallv conducted, will result in 
 the firm conviction — that every motive is in favor 
 of virtue, and against vice ; that the last is only 
 another name for pain, disgrace, and misery — the 
 former for pleasiure, honor, and happiness. Never 
 imagine that you can evade, or violate with im- 
 punity, the laws of your natm'e. God has, in all 
 things, connected your duty with your happiness. 
 The relations which you sustain towards others 
 involve numerous and important obligations. 
 These result fi-om the common principles and 
 reciprocal wants of your nature, and from the 
 laws of political society. Here opens the prin- 
 cipal field for tlie display of those virtues, talents, 
 and qualifications, which benefit mankind; which 
 conciliate their esteem, seciu"e their fiiendship, 
 and excite their admiration. Be cautious, there- 
 
 1
 
 90 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 
 
 fore, that you honorably discharge the obligations 
 resulting from the social state. Much of the 
 happiness of your lives will depend on the good 
 will of those around you. This will be most 
 effectually secured by a conscientious discharge 
 of your duties ; in rendering exact justice to all 
 men; in paying all due resjject to your superiors ; 
 in kindness and condescension to your inferiors; 
 in civility and politeness to your equals ; in 
 liberality to the poor and distressed ; in suj)- 
 porting all institutions for the relief of human 
 misery, and for the increase of human happiness. 
 Thus, by acting in all tlie relations of life 
 according to the rule of right, you will satisfy 
 your own consciences; you will promote your 
 own respectability and usefulness ; and you will 
 secure the esteem of men, and the friendshij^ 
 of God. 
 
 As it is your lot to come forward into life at a 
 most interesting period, let your cunduct be 
 marked with the most disinterested love of your 
 country. Avoid the contagion of party spirit. 
 Exercise a noble and independent liberality to- 
 wards those who differ from you in sentiment. 
 Cultivate peace with all men, and support the
 
 BACCALAUREATE ADDRESS. 91 
 
 laws and constitution of your country, I trust, 
 and believe, that you go from this college with 
 a deep sense of the value of civil and religious 
 freedom. To behold you exerting your talents 
 in suj^port of these, will afford the highest plea- 
 sure to those who have conducted your education. 
 The prompt obedience which you have ren- 
 dered to the authority of this college ; the diligence 
 with which you have pursued your studies ; the 
 civility and decency which have characterized 
 yom* deportment; have greatly contributed to 
 the good order and regular discipline of this 
 college ; and have set an example, which, I hope, 
 will long be remembered and followed. Though 
 many individuals among your predecessors have 
 held a high rank in literary distinction, yet, when 
 I consider the number and talents of the j^resent 
 class, I must pronounce you tlie lights of this 
 institution. Pennit me to express, on this oc- 
 casion, the high satisfaction which I experience 
 in crowning you with the laurels of this college. 
 May they grow and flourish for ever ! Departing 
 fiom this institution, you carry with you my 
 most ardent desires for yoiur happiness. I now 
 give you my final adieu, and recommend you to 
 the blessing of God.
 
 A DISCOURSE, 
 
 DELITERED IN THE 
 
 CHAPEL OF BROWN UNIVERSITY, 
 
 TO TBS 
 
 SENIOR CLASS, 
 
 ©n ft)t Sttntrau prrtfUfng tfie annfljfr»arj ©omtnfnrmtnxt, 
 September 3rd, 1800.
 
 A DISCOURSE. 
 
 "He that hurnhleth himself shall he exalted." 
 Luke xiv. 11. 
 
 These words point out the direct road to pre- 
 fennent. They exhibit that conduct which is 
 honorary to man, and acceptable to God. How- 
 ever mortifying it may be to our pride, to form 
 a just estimate of ourselves, and to practice the 
 meek, unassuming virtue — humility ; however 
 despicable we may appear in the view of the 
 world, for denying ourselves, and complying with 
 the injunctions of our divine Saviour ; yet these 
 are the only things which will secure true dignity 
 and permanent happiness. We ought to remem- 
 ber, that infinite wisdom comprehends at one 
 view, the origin, motives, progress, eflfects, and
 
 OG COLLEGIATE DISCOURSE. 
 
 final issue, of all our actions. God's ways are as 
 much above ours as the heavens are above the 
 earth. We are limited in our capacity, and in 
 our own exertions. We are liable to forget the 
 past, and we cannot penetrate the future. Hence, 
 we cannot take in, at once, the whole train of 
 action, which God has ordained to prepare us 
 for happiness. His directions are designed to 
 coincide with the whole scheme, and the great 
 end of our existence. Hence, we are liable to 
 form unfavorable and imperfect concej)tions con- 
 cerning many of God's injunctions and operations, 
 merely because we view them detached from the 
 great plan of his administration. In the scrip- 
 ture, many dispositions are inculcated, to which 
 we are naturally averse; and many are censured, 
 to which we are naturally attached. We are apt 
 to suppose that exalted, ambitious views, and a 
 correspondent conduct, will promote our pros- 
 perity and happiness. Our pride leads us to 
 measiu*e the greatest achievements by our own 
 powers. Though we are limited in the intellectual 
 as well as in the natural world, yet we do not 
 rest satisfied with the bounds prescribed by our 
 beneficent Creator. We sigh to explore the
 
 COLLEGIATE DISCOURSE. 97 
 
 bidden causes of things, their intimate constitu- 
 tions, and their final destination. We sigh to 
 wield a world, as we do an atom ; to search the 
 centre of the earth, and to sail among the stars. 
 Experiment destroys our vain imaginations. We 
 fall back into our proper selves, and feel the 
 necessity of some superior power and wisdom to 
 direct, control, an4 limit our exertions. How 
 vain is it for man to presume on the perfection 
 of his own powers, and to indulge an exulting 
 confidence in himself ! He is sure to meet with 
 disgrace and degradation. He who knew the 
 hearts of men said, " He that exalteth himself 
 shall be abased." Our Saviour, when on earth, 
 embraced every favorable opportunity, to incul- 
 cate those lessons of wisdom, which were calcu- 
 lated to exterminate the pride and self-confidence 
 of men. From the most ordinary occurrences he 
 deduced the most weighty instructions. When 
 in the house of one of the chief Pharisees, ob- 
 serving that they that were bidden chose out the 
 chief rooms, he said, " When thou art bidden of 
 any man to a wedding, sit not down in the high- 
 est room ; lest a more honorable man than thou 
 be bidden ; and he that bade thee and him come 
 
 H
 
 98 COLLEGIATE DISCOURSE. 
 
 and say to thee, Give this man place ; and 
 thou begin with shame to take the lowest room. 
 But when thou art bidden, go and sit down in 
 the lowest room ; that when he that bade thee 
 Cometh, he may say unto thee. Friend, go up 
 higher : then shalt thou have worship in the 
 presence of them that sit at meat with thee." He 
 then added, as the sum of his instructions on 
 that occasion, " For whosoever exalteth himself 
 shall be abased ; and he that humbleth himself 
 shall be exalted." My design is to show, from 
 a few considerations, the connexion between 
 humility and . preferment. 
 
 I. Humility implies a just and proper estimate 
 of ourselves. 
 
 Such is our situation in the present world, that 
 it is of the greatest importance to us in all our 
 concernments, to proportion our enterprises and 
 our exertions to our ability. If we fail in this 
 respect, we shall, in all affairs of magnitude, 
 involve ourselves, and probably others, in disgrace 
 or ruin. Hence appears the necessity of acqui- 
 ring as accurate a knowledge of om'selves as cir- 
 cumstances will permit, previous to om' entrance
 
 COLLEGIATE DISCOURSE. 99 
 
 on the active businesses of life. We must lay 
 aside oui' prejudices — all partiality for our own 
 talents and acquirements ; we must disclose all 
 our infinnities to a strict scrutiny ; we must 
 retire from ourselves, and become objects of our 
 own contemplation and judgment. This indeed 
 is a difficult task ; but still it is necessary to be 
 performed, if we would feel om'selves in the 
 station assigned to us by our Maker. We must 
 consider om* corporeal and mental powers; we 
 must enquire to what objects and pm'suits they 
 are adapted. Our intellect, memory, imagination, 
 — our power of volition — our passions — our 
 propensities — our affections and aversions — our 
 moral qualities and improvements — oiu* situation 
 and jjrospects — our means and resom'ces — om* 
 connexions in social and civil life — and, above 
 all, our relation to God ; all these must be 
 attentively considered by those who would acquire 
 a just knowledge of themselves, so as to preserve 
 that mild equanimity which is below pride, and 
 above meanness. A comprehensive and unpre- 
 judiced sm'vey of ourselves, by showing us our 
 numerous imperfections, our limited capacity and 
 sphere of action, will convince us that we have 
 
 h2
 
 100 COLLEGIATE DISCOURSE, 
 
 little reason for indulging exalted thoughts of 
 ourselves, and of our greatest exertions. When 
 we compare the extensiveness of God's works, 
 with the narrowness of our own powers ; when 
 we consider how soon we are baffled in explaining 
 the causes of the most common appearances, and 
 when we consider that^ in almost all our conduct, 
 we are obliged to proceed upon mere probability, 
 and that there is scarcely any thing except math- 
 ematical demonstration in which we can arrive at 
 absolute certainty, we are surprised that we should 
 ever have thought so highly of ourselves ; and, 
 instead of arrogantly boasting of our superiority, 
 we are disposed to bow down at the feet of 
 Omnipotence, and adore him for that small 
 portion of intelligence with which he has been 
 pleased to endow us. When we have inquired 
 and ascertained what things are knowable and 
 practicable, we shall naturally form a just judg- 
 ment of the extent of that sphere in which we 
 were destined to act. We shall rest satisfied with 
 the station allotted us by Providence, without 
 vexing ourselves in the pursuit of objects beyond 
 our reach, and consmning, in unprofitable reveries, 
 that portion of time which should be devoted to
 
 COLLEGIATE DISCOURSE. 101 
 
 the important duties of life. By reducing our- 
 selves to our proper size, and confining our 
 exertions to things attainable by us, we shall 
 coincide with the laws of natm*e, and succeed in 
 our enterprises. There can remain little doubt 
 of success ; because the means we employ will be 
 proportioned to the end we pursue. The only 
 art and address necessary, will be the proper 
 management of our resources. This men of 
 ordinary abilities may easily obtain, by obser- 
 vation and experience. The amiable virtue, 
 humility, is, in its nature, calculated to keep us 
 duly mindful of our deficiencies and imperfections, 
 80 as to rouse all our powers into a steady and 
 proper train of action. On the contrary, a high 
 opinion of ourselves will render us blind to our 
 defects ; and, of course, will lull us into a con- 
 fident indolence, or engage us in schemes of 
 destructive ambition. The conduct which flows 
 from genuine humility, is attractive and engaging. 
 It never fails to secure the good will of all our 
 acquaintances. Of how much importance this 
 to our prosperity and preferment, those can easily 
 detennine who are but moderately conversant in 
 the affairs of life. The way for men to excel and
 
 102 COLLEGIATE DISCOURSE. 
 
 prosper, is not to indulge an assuming confidence 
 in their own powers, and to believe their exertions 
 adequate to the greatest achievements. A high 
 estimate of ourselves, though it may gratify our 
 vanity, will neither confer merit, nor ensure suc- 
 cess : — the pine, whose top brushes the clouds, 
 yields to the blast, and falls with a most tremen- 
 dous ruin. A haughty spirit, a supreme confidence 
 in ourselves, is a sure indication of folly, and 
 presage of degradation. If we would secure our 
 true dignity and honor, we must possess and 
 practise humility. For it is imdoubtedly true, 
 as our Saviour asserted, that "He who humbleth 
 himself shall be exalted." 
 
 II. Humility implies a disposition to prefer 
 others, and to promote their prosperity. 
 
 That lowliness of mind inculcated in the 
 Scriptures, appears to be inseparably connected 
 with genuine benevolence. This seeks the 
 happiness of others, in obedience to the will of 
 God, and in subserviency to the general good of 
 the created system. He who considers how 
 small a part he constitutes of the great works of 
 God, and who has just views of himself as a
 
 COLLEGIATE DISCOURSE. 103 
 
 fallen sinful creature, is not disposed to exalt him- 
 self on the ruins of othere, or to say, " Stand by 
 tliyself, I am holier than thou." With the peni- 
 tent publican, he smites upon his breast, and 
 says, " God be merciful to me a sinner." He 
 now possesses a proper temper of mind to comply 
 with the apostle's direction, " In lowliness of 
 mind, let each esteem others better than them- 
 selves." John the Baptist, when he contemplated 
 the superior gifts and successes of the Saviour, 
 humbly said, " He must increase, but I must 
 decrease." The disposition and conduct implied 
 in true humility, is calculated to prevent the 
 effects of envy, and to conciliate esteem. He 
 who thinks more highly of himself than others 
 think of him, is sure to excite disgust and oj)po- 
 sition. For men generaJly bear with impatience 
 that superiority of merit which is real, whether 
 it is gained by laborious personal exertion, or 
 inherited fi"om the bounty of God. An indignant 
 disgust rises against him whose pretensions to 
 eminence and distinction are founded in vanity 
 and self-conceit. Even where the possessor of 
 real merit allows himself to appear sensible of it, 
 and to value himself upon it, he at once becomes
 
 104 COLLEGIATE DISCOURSE. 
 
 obnoxious. True merit carries its own light and 
 its own glory with it. It needs not the varnish 
 of aflFectation, nor the olficiousness of self-love. 
 Unassuming diffidence is its characteristic and 
 recommendation. We are so constituted, that we 
 feel a peculiar pleasure in assisting and pro- 
 moting those who seem diffident of their abilities, 
 and unconscious of their real worth. We possess 
 an anxiety, lest they should not be sufficiently 
 noticed, approved, and promoted. Those who 
 have the greatest merit, have the clearest views 
 of their defects. This arises from that high sen- 
 sibility and nice discernment which always exist 
 in great and virtuous minds. These have enlarged 
 views of things — and, of course, perceive diffi- 
 culties and embarrassments unknown to those 
 whose mental powers are less energetic ; whose 
 confidence arises from ignorance ; and, whose 
 highest merit is an unblushing assurance. It is 
 to be lamented that, with so great a portion of 
 mankind, impudence will supply the place of 
 worth. It is, doubtless, fi'om observing this, that 
 many, from motives of vanity and self-conceit, 
 from indolence or impatience, have neglected to 
 gain those acquirements which were within the
 
 COLLEGIATE DISCOURSE. 105 
 
 compass of their abilities, and have rendered 
 themselves contemptible by their officious intru- 
 sion on the public. Against errors of this kind, 
 humility is a sufficient guard. "While it keeps 
 the possessor in his proper province, it disjioses 
 him to obtain those qualifications, which alone 
 can clothe him with true dignity, and facilitate 
 his promotion. He is disj^osed to esteem others 
 better tlian himself, and to seek their prosperity. 
 In this way, his whole train of conduct confers 
 obligations on others, and disjjoses them to pro- 
 mote his interest. Thus, he who humbles 
 himself, pursues the most direct method to exal- 
 tation. If we perform acts wholly selfish, they 
 result from pride, and, most probably, will injure 
 others as well as ourselves. Benevolent acts we 
 cannot perform without benefiting ourselves and 
 others. Hence, as humility always disposes to 
 benevolence, and is inseparable fi'om it, it neces- 
 sarily promotes our own good. 
 
 III. Humility implies a disposition to receive 
 instruction and admonition. 
 
 The fii"st of these refers to tlie improvement of 
 the understanding ; the second to the correction
 
 106 COLLEGIATE DISCOURSE. 
 
 of our conduct. Both are, therefore, of the 
 highest importance as to usefulness and respec- 
 tability in the world. Pride is one of the greatest 
 obstacles to mental improvement. It flatters 
 its possessor that his povv^ers are sufficiently ener- 
 getic, and his present acquirements sufficiently 
 extensive. Hence he considers it as a mortifying 
 condescension to submit to that regular and strict 
 discipline, by which truth is investigated, and 
 knowledge obtained. Besides, pride is usually 
 accompanied with such passions and vices, as 
 render the most important instructions painful 
 and unacceptable. What, but the pride and 
 wickedness of the Jews, induced them to reject 
 those invaluable lessons of wisdom inculcated by 
 the Saviour? What, but their exalted opinion 
 of themselves, of their wisdom and piety, that 
 involved them in ruin ? Individuals, by a similar 
 conduct, must expect to share a similar fate. To 
 the young, a disjjosition to receive instruction is 
 peculiarly advantageous and important. As they 
 are inexperienced, they can form but a very im- 
 perfect estimate of human life, and the springs 
 of human actions. They judge of things accord- 
 ing to their wishes, imaginations, or passions:
 
 COLLEGIATE DISCOURSE. 107 
 
 hence they are incessantly liable to fall into error 
 in judgment and conduct. If to their inadvertent 
 and precipitate dispositions are joined a haughty 
 obstinacy, and high opinion of themselves, dis- 
 grace and ruin are almost siwe to follow. Their 
 plans of conduct are guided by no settled prin- 
 ciples — and, of course, are calculated to obtain 
 no determinate objects. But, if they possess a 
 meek and pliant disposition, they can anticipate 
 the wisdom of age and experience — they can 
 diffuse a prudent discretion over their manners — 
 and render their youth doubly engaging and use- 
 ful. All have a propensity to justify their own 
 sentiments, passions, and actions. This propen- 
 sity, when confined within proper bounds, is 
 highly useful ; but it almost invariably proceeds 
 to such extremes, that it renders men blind and 
 obstinate in their errors. Hence arises the great 
 avei*sion, which we generally have, to be reminded 
 of om* faults, and our unwillingness to retract 
 tliem. This is certainly very unreasonable ; for 
 it is as criminal to persevere in a fault, as it is to 
 commit it. To this great and universal error, 
 which arises from too great an indulgence of self 
 love, I know of no remedy but humility. This
 
 108 COLLEGIATE DISCOURSE. 
 
 will dispose us to be moderate, candid, and im- 
 partial respecting our actions, or whatever is 
 represented to us as erroneous. We shall, with 
 thankfulness, receive the admonitions of our 
 friends ; and shall be careful to profit from the 
 censures of our enemies. Thus humility will 
 exalt us, while envy would depress us. For, 
 while the last points out om- faults, the first 
 corrects them. 
 
 IV. Humility renders us obedient to our Maker, 
 and has the promise of his blessing. 
 
 In this view, humility appears to be conducive 
 to our best interests. For how can we expect to 
 prosper, how can we expect real permanent hap- 
 piness, unless our hearts and conduct are 
 coincident with the will of God ? All the mis- 
 fortunes, calamities, and miseries of mankind, 
 have resulted from disobedience to the divine 
 commands. Pride rises up against the authority 
 of Heaven ; it exalts itself above all that is called 
 God. It renders men foolish, improvident, 
 obstinate, and insolent. Hence, Solomon said, 
 " Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty 
 8i)irit before a fall." Humility, on the contrary,
 
 COLLEGIATE DISCOURSE. 109 
 
 renders men wise, meek, cautious, inoffensive, 
 and desirous of obtaining the favor of Heaven. 
 Hence, it is said, " With the lowly is wisdom ; " 
 " Before honor is humility." The man who 
 practises hiunility, is, therefore, pursuing the 
 direct road to jireferment. " God resisteth the 
 proud ; giveth grace to the humble." God will 
 dwell with him that is of an humble and contrite 
 spirit. Humility is inseparable from true religion, 
 and will meet its most glorious reward in Heaven. 
 The apostle Paul, when subdued by the power 
 of that Saviour whom he persecuted, became a 
 meek and humble Christian. In meekness, he 
 instructed those who opposed themselves to the 
 truth. He considered himself as the least of all, 
 and as the servant of all. He incessantly devoted 
 himself to the will of his Divine Master, and to 
 the interests of mankind. What was the conse- 
 quence ? He could say with assurance, " I have 
 fought a good fight, I have finished my com'se, 
 I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid 
 up for me a crown of righteousness, which the 
 Lord, the Judge, shall give me." In Christ, we 
 behold a most wonderful display of humble 
 obedience to the will of God, and the consequent
 
 110 COLLEGIATE DISCOURSE. 
 
 dignity to which he was exalted. Though he 
 was " In the form of God, and thought it not 
 robbery to be equal with God ; yet he made 
 himself of no rejDutation, and took upon him the 
 form of a servant, and was made in the likeness 
 of men ; and, being found in fashion as a man, 
 he humbled himself, and became obedient unto 
 death, even the death of the cross." Behold the 
 glorious consequence ! " Wherefore God also 
 hath highly exalted him, and given him a name 
 which is above every name ; that, at the name 
 of Jesus, every knee should bow ; of things in 
 heaven, things in earth, and things under the 
 earth, and, that every tongue should confess that 
 Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the 
 Father." 
 
 Having delivered what I proposed on this 
 subject, I shall now suggest some instruction 
 and improvement from it, in a short address to 
 the senior class. 
 
 You, young gentlemen, my much esteemed 
 friends and pupils, are now dissolving your im- 
 mediate connection with this college, and with 
 the officers who have had the care of yom- edu-
 
 COLLEGIATE DISCOURSE. Ill 
 
 cation. It is, on this occasion, natural for each 
 of you to inquire — What are my future prospects 
 in life ? What occupation shall I pursue ? What 
 means and conduct shall I adopt to insure suc- 
 cess and promotion ? How shall I render myself 
 meritorious, useful, and resi3ectable ? To assist 
 you, as to these things, was my chief object in 
 the i^receding discourse, I have attemjited to 
 shew, that humility leads to promotion and honor 
 — by teaching its possessor to form a just estimate 
 of himself ; by inducing him to prefer others ; 
 by disposing him to receive instruction and ad- 
 monition; and, by rendering him obedient to 
 God, so as to secure his blessing. What I have 
 farther to advance, respects the ways in which 
 the amiable virtue, humility, is displayed, and 
 tlie objects towards which it is to be practised. 
 
 1. — Practise it towards your sujieriors. That 
 til ere is a great difference in men, as to their 
 mental powers, acquired abilities, and religious 
 and moral improvements, you have abundant 
 evidence, firom your own observation. Intellectual 
 worth always imposes an obligation of respect 
 and attention. These nothing, except envy, can 
 witlihold. Never indulge this ignoble passion ;
 
 112 COLLEGIATE DISCOURSE. 
 
 but allow superior merit and excellence their full 
 praise. In doing this, you will act the part of 
 reason and benevolence — you will engage in the 
 cause of all virtue against all vice. For envy is a 
 peculiar modification of selfishness; and every 
 exercise of it implies a consciousness of superior 
 excellence, and a desire to tarnish its lustre. 
 While I advise you to pay respect to your 
 superiors in worth, I wish not to be understood 
 to mean, that you should implicitly follow them, 
 or receive their instructions, without reference to 
 your own understandings. You may as well be 
 destitute of reason and judgment, as to suffer 
 others wholly to control you in the exercise of 
 them. If you hapj^en to differ from those who 
 are farther advanced in knowledge and experience 
 than yourselves, all that can be expected of you 
 is, that you submit your own judgment, with all 
 due respect and deference. This will evince a 
 disposition to receive and follow the clearest 
 light. I must here particularly recommend to 
 you, to render the most prompt and cheerful 
 obedience, in all things just and lawful, to per- 
 sons in civil stations, environed with delegated 
 authority. In doing this, you must lay aside
 
 COLLEGIATE DISCOIJRSE. 11:3 
 
 all private considerations, and be governed wholly 
 by the public good. 
 
 2. — The amiable virtue, humility, you will do 
 well always to manifest to your equals and in- 
 feriors. To the first be civil, affable, and obliging 
 in all your conduct. Be willing to allow them 
 the just reward of their merit, and do not repine 
 if they happen to be promoted above you. It will 
 be more to your honor to suspect you have too 
 highly estimated your own worth, than to envy 
 their prosperity. To your inferiors be conde- 
 scending and attentive ; for there is scarcely any 
 person whose assistance, and good wishes, you 
 may not at some time or other need. True 
 humility does not require that you shoidd reduce 
 yourselves to an equality with all persons. This 
 would be meanness or pusillanimity. Assume 
 to yourselves no greater deference than your own 
 circumstances and duties, as well as those of 
 others, require. If you should ever be invested 
 with authority in public stations, use it with 
 moderation, and for the public good. If you 
 possess riches, they will rank you above the poor, 
 but will increase the obligations of charity and 
 benevolence. A mild, unassuming conduct, what- 
 
 I
 
 114 COLLEGIATE DISCOURSE. 
 
 ever may be your situation, will give lustre to 
 every virtue and every action. 
 
 Time now requires that I give you my final 
 benediction, by assuring you of my friendship, 
 of my solicitude for your prosperity, and com- 
 mending you to the great author of all good. 
 May you walk humbly before him, that he may 
 exalt you to honor in this world, and to eternal 
 glory in the world to come.
 
 AN 
 
 ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE, 
 
 DELIVERED TO THE 
 
 gbtutKtnts of tSe ^outD ©arolfna ©olltge, 
 
 On Sunday, Decembbb 1st, 1816, 
 
 THE DAY PREVIOUS TO THE COMMENCEMENT. 
 
 i2
 
 A DISCOURSE, 
 
 Thou shall love the Lord thy God with all 
 thy heart!' — Matthew xxii. 37. 
 
 To rational beings, nothing can be more inter- 
 esting than to know the will of their Creator. 
 This is the law of their existence, the measure of 
 their vhtue, and the som*ce of their happiness. 
 Beings endowed with intellectual and moral pow- 
 ers, can no more exist, independent of law and 
 obligation, than an effect can exist without a 
 cause. Creatures, through the abuse of their 
 liberty, may change ; they may violate the laws 
 by which they ought to be governed ; they may 
 become so enslaved to inveterate habits of evil, 
 as to be morally incapable of virtuous affections 
 and actions; and yet their obligations may remain,
 
 118 ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE. 
 
 in all their extent, and in all their authority. 
 Hence, as obligation flows from the supreme 
 moral excellence of God, the former is as inca- 
 pable of change, or diminution, as the latter. Men 
 are required to love God supremely — not because 
 their compliance will make them happy, but 
 because he deserves their obedience. To assert 
 that any being is amiable, or worthy, is the same 
 as to assert, that that being deserves to be loved 
 and esteemed. Moral excellence or worth carries 
 with it, and impresses on the mind of the per- 
 cipient, the sentiment of desert. Hence, the 
 obligations of moral agents rise in importance 
 and strength, in proportion to the degree of ex- 
 cellence possessed by their cause. The nature of 
 God, therefore, originates and imposes obligations 
 of the widest extent, the highest importance, and 
 the longest duration. These obligations are as 
 immutable, and imperishable, as their origin; 
 and it is as impossible that beings, to whom their 
 power extends, should ever be exonerated from 
 them, as it is that the universe should be sus- 
 tained and governed by a power inferior to that 
 which created it. God therefore displays the 
 highest wisdom, justice, and goodness, in address-
 
 ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE. 119 
 
 ing every rational creature in the language of our 
 text, " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with 
 all thy heart." To show the ground and reason- 
 ableness of this requirement, and thus to disclose 
 the nature of moral obligation and of true vutue, 
 are my principal objects on this occasion. 
 
 I. The reasonableness of supreme love to God 
 will appear, if we consider the natui'e of God. 
 Though our conceptions, and knowledge of this 
 subject, are necessarily limited and imj)erfect — 
 yet they may, undoubtedly, be sufficiently adequate 
 for the security of our viitue and happiness. To 
 say that we can have no just, because we can 
 have no perfect knowledge of the Supreme 
 Being, is highly absm'd. Did any one ever 
 imagine that a grain of sand contained no part 
 of the earth, because it did not contain the whole ? 
 Would a reasonable man put out his eyes, because 
 his sight could not penetrate the universe? God 
 has furnished us with as much knowledge as was 
 proper for our state — and with this knowledge 
 we ought to rest satisfied. The attributes of God, 
 which constitute his supreme perfection, are with 
 propriety expressed under two denominations,
 
 120 ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE. 
 
 natural and moral. The former do not, in their 
 nature, necessarily involve those qualities which, 
 render a being amiable or estimable. They are 
 not such as furnish a proj)er ground of moral 
 obligation, or authorize the jDossessor to prescribe 
 laws to other beings. Such are the existence, 
 knowledge, and power of God. These attributes 
 do not, in themselves, imply worth or moral 
 excellence : for, siuely, a being is not worthy or 
 estimable merely because he exists, knows, and 
 possesses power. We can easily conceive, that a 
 finite being, in the highest order of existence, 
 may possess great power and knowledge, and yet 
 be perfectly malevolent. If, then, it were pos- 
 sible for infinite power and knowledge to exist, 
 without benevolence, they would inspire ten'or, 
 rather than love. A being, therefore, is not 
 necessarily amiable, or deserving, because he 
 exists every where — because he knows all things, 
 and can perform all things. It is, however, im- 
 possible that a being should possess infinite 
 existence, power, and knowledge, and at the same 
 time be malevolent — because these attributes 
 belong to God. They do not, however, constitute 
 his supreme excellence ; which, in the language
 
 ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE. 121 
 
 of Scripture, is called his holiness, or his glory. 
 For this we must look to his moral perfections. 
 These involve the volitions of God — his dispo- 
 sitions towards his creatures — all his wise and 
 good decrees concerning tliem — all those quali- 
 ties which render him the proper object of perfect 
 love, obedience, and adoration. When to the 
 infinite existence, power, and knowledge of God, 
 we add his holiness, justice, mercy, faithfulness, 
 and veracity, we form the highest possible con- 
 ception of his infinite amiableness or worth. To 
 the virtuous man nothing is so excellent, nothing 
 so desirable, as God's power and knowledge, 
 clothed with infinite goodness, justice, and mercy. 
 Infinite power and knowledge, prompted by 
 infinite benevolence and justice, can do nothing 
 but good, and produce nothing but happiness. 
 God's right to prescribe laws to his rational 
 creatures, to direct and control then* active pow- 
 ers, results fi-om his infinite perfection. He 
 requires men to love him with all their hearts — 
 not merely because they are dependent on him ; 
 not merely because a compliance with his will 
 will render them happy ; but because he is what 
 he is, and, from his own inherent and unchange-
 
 122 ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE. 
 
 able perfection, deserving of their love. If, then, 
 it is reasonable that man should esteem and 
 regard the highest excellence — that he should be 
 such as God requires him to be — that he should 
 fix his desires on an object which they can never 
 transcend — that he should, from the most exalted 
 motives, pursue the highest happiness and per- 
 fection of which he is capable — surely it is 
 reasonable that he should love God with all his 
 heart. 
 
 II. This will farther appear if we consider the 
 nature of man. God has rendered him capable 
 of various kinds and degrees of enjoyment and 
 happiness. For this purpose, he has furnished 
 him with diiferent kinds and orders of powers, 
 both corporeal and mental. To the exercise and 
 cultivation of these, within certain limits, he has 
 annexed a certain degree of pleasure. This he 
 has done to incite man to activity, to secm-e his 
 vu'tue, and to allure him on towards the highest 
 dignity and glory of his nature. The powers of 
 external sense are first evolved and employed in 
 their proper sphere. To these, the innumerable 
 productions of natm'e present the charms of nov-
 
 ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE. 123 
 
 elty, and the blandishments of pleasm*e. Attracted 
 by these, man eagerly springs foi'ward in the 
 career of his existence, and riots on the luxuriance 
 of natm'e. Kegardless of the laws imposed by 
 his Maker, and unaided by the wisdom of expe- 
 rience, he hurries from object to object, and, in 
 the midst of his tumultuary progress, rushes into 
 the region of disease and pain. He now looks 
 back on the realms through which he has run, 
 and, instead of flowers, and sti'eams, and shining 
 skies, beholds a dreary waste, and sinks in solitary 
 wretchedness. Ah ! thoughtless youth, return to 
 the path from which thou hast wandered. Thy 
 happiness dwells not in the pleasures of sense. 
 
 To the powers and enjoyments of sense succeed 
 those of the fancy and imagination. The former 
 of tliese suggests unreal images, the latter arranges 
 and combines them into innumerable forms of 
 ideal beauty. * These eccentric and versatile 
 powers are often a source of high and innocent 
 enjoyment. They ai'e essential to the vigorous 
 exertions of genius; and, through its creative 
 powers, and beautiful productions, may be ren- 
 dered subservient to religion and morality. But 
 these powers, if indulged beyond a certain limit,
 
 124 ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE. 
 
 become highly injurious, and furnish new causes 
 of misery. As they spread a profusion of unreal 
 charms over the course of human life, and over 
 the works of nature, they accustom the mind to 
 impracticable scenes of action and enjoyment ; 
 and thus render it averse to serious occupation, 
 and disgusted with a world where pain is inter- 
 woven with pleasure, and where men must submit 
 to labour, if they would procure enjoyment. 
 What misery do men often bring on themselves, 
 and on those around them, by giving themselves 
 up to the visions of fancy, and the wild excursions 
 of imagination ! In proportion as these exalt us 
 into the regions of visionary bliss, they pervert 
 or deaden the intellectual powers, and, by creating 
 wants which can never be satisfied, and desires 
 which can never be bounded, multiply the causes 
 of fictitious sorrow and real disappointment. Let 
 him, therefore, who would usefully* and honorably 
 fill the station allotted him by Providence, sub- 
 ject his imaginative powers to the control of the 
 noble principles of reason, and to the dictates of 
 practical wisdom. To do this effectually, he must 
 look up, with supreme regard, to the Author of
 
 ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE. 125 
 
 his being, who bestowed all his faculties, and 
 prescribed the laws of their operation. 
 
 Next in order are the powers of taste. These 
 relate, primarily, to natural, visible beauty, and 
 are designed to attach us to the works of creation, 
 that from these we may ascend up to their glorious 
 Author. In the progress of the mind towards 
 perfection — in the evolution of its principles and 
 energies — these powers extend to all that is grand, 
 sublime, and beautiful in the productions of 
 human genius. The sphere of our enjoyments 
 and pleasures is enlarged ; and if we fondly re- 
 sign ourselves to these, without aspiring to nobler 
 pursuits and purer joys, we shall at last be filled 
 with sorrow, for satisfactions whose causes will 
 have ceased, and whose end had been perverted 
 by excessive indulgence. 
 
 Another power, and of a higher order, is the 
 moral sense. The immediate object of this is — 
 moral beauty. This, like natural beauty, is per- 
 ceived, and its effects instantaneously felt ; but 
 it cannot be accurately defined, because the 
 princijiles of universal beauty are not known. 
 Wherever we have a direct perception, accom- 
 panied with esteem and approbation, of virtuous
 
 126 ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE. 
 
 affections and actions, there exists moral beauty. 
 This, independent of all other considerations, 
 produces a sense of worth, desert, or excellence. 
 Thus justice, mercy, and beneficence, are not seen 
 with indifference, but with esteem and appro- 
 bation. No animal is so constituted, except 
 man, as to be sensible of moral beauty — to be 
 capable of loving and imitating it. From its own 
 intrinsic amiableness, it excites emotions and 
 passions as certainly and irresistibly as natural 
 beauty. This part of man's constitution shows 
 his great superiority over the brutes — indicates 
 his high destiny for the society of heaven — and 
 enables him for ever to approximate the infinite 
 source of all beauty and happiness. Moral beauty 
 in its highest essence, as it exists in God, is the 
 immutable ground of all moral obligation — the 
 true motive, the standard, and the end of all 
 virtue. No finite, intelligent being, therefore, 
 can in any period of existence, or in any situation, 
 be exempt from moral obligation, or fi-om the 
 duty of loving God with all his heart. When 
 God requires this, he requires no more than he 
 deserves, on account of his own inherent excel- 
 lence; no more than it is our duty and our
 
 ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE. 127 
 
 highest happiness to render. How desirable then 
 is vulue ! How invahiable the hapj)iness which 
 flows from it! Were man destitute of moral 
 sense, he could have no perception of right or 
 wrong, of virtue and sin, of good or ill desert — 
 he could appropriate neither praise nor blame — 
 nor could he be a subject of reward and punish- 
 ment. It is, therefore, a dangerous en*or in ethics, 
 to say that it is of no consequence whether the 
 moral sense be innate or acquired. God has not 
 rested the virtue and happiness of his creature man, 
 on such an uncertain foundation as a factitious 
 habit. The moral laws, or the principles of them 
 from which God requires man to act, are all 
 founded in the nature of God and man. This is 
 the only solid basis on which morality can be 
 duly enforced — on which the nature, extent, and 
 authority of moral obligation can be demonstrated. 
 Another power, possessed by man, is denomi- 
 nated intellect. This bestows on him his highest 
 dignity and glory, and gives him his chief supe- 
 riority over all other animals. Its exercises and 
 objects are the perception, investigation, and 
 communication of truth. As we anive at the 
 knowledge of this through diflFerent mediums,
 
 128 ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE. 
 
 and different processes of mind, it may be dis- 
 tinguished and distributed into the following 
 denominations ; sensible, intuitive, demonstrative, 
 poetical, theological, and historical. The first 
 results from the direct perceptions of our senses, 
 both internal and external ; the second belongs 
 to axioms, or self evident propositions ; the third 
 results from our reasoning powers, employed in 
 deducing things less known from things more 
 known ; the fourth consists in the possible exis- 
 tence of things within the limits of verisimilitude ; 
 the fifth depends on the testimony of God ; and 
 the sixth on the testimony of men. To these 
 denominations of truth may be reduced all the 
 knowledge of which the human mind is capable. 
 What a wide field is here opened for the exercise 
 of the intellectual powers ! To these we are in- 
 debted for all the benefits resulting from arts and 
 sciences — from agriculture and commerce — fr'om 
 legislation and government — and from all the 
 economical, political, and religious institutions of 
 civil society. This wonderful power, which has 
 extended the empire of man over the works, and 
 laws, and elements of nature, is the medium 
 through which we procure the highest blessings
 
 ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE. 129 
 
 of existence, and render them subservient to our 
 happiness. The intellect, and all oiu' other pow- 
 ers, were bestowed for our good, and the glory of 
 our Creator. He only could prescribe the laws 
 of their operation, and direct them to their proper 
 ends. These laws he has not left to be enforced 
 by the decisions of reason, but has called in the 
 aid of our aJGfections and passions. Supreme love 
 to God " fulfils the law," because it biings all 
 om- moral sentiments, and active powers, into 
 subjection to the divine will. Love to God, 
 therefore, is perfectly reasonable, as it is the only 
 security for our virtue and happiness. Thus, 
 whether we survey our sensitive, imaginative, 
 our moral or intellectual powers, we find abun- 
 dant reason to love their great and beneficent 
 author. " Of him, and to him, and through him 
 are all things." All the beauty that smiles on 
 the earth, and all the glory that shines in the 
 heavens ; all the virtues that adorn the minds of 
 saints and angels, are but emanations from the 
 great source of infinite excellence. Were this 
 suspended, the whole creation would fade under 
 the eye of its author ; evil would every where 
 shoot forth in all its deformity, and the car of 
 
 K
 
 130 ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE. 
 
 death would roll in ruin through the universe. 
 As the Author of our being is the source of all 
 virtue and happiness — the centre and life of 
 nature — how reasonable is it that, as he wills our 
 felicity, he should require our love ? 
 
 III. This will farther appear, if we consider 
 the state of man. 
 
 This is a state of entire dependence, and must 
 continue such, as long as man shall exist. No 
 power less than that which created man could 
 sustain him one moment. Existence therefore is 
 continued creation. Of consequence, man is as 
 completely dependent on God, as an effect is on 
 its cause. Dependence supposes power on one 
 side, and imbecility on the other. In finite 
 beings, poAver does not give right ; but in God 
 it always does, and in the highest degree : because 
 in him power is never exerted without infinite 
 wisdom and goodness. Right and obligation are 
 correlative. The obligation of man, therefore, to 
 obey the will of God, and love him supremely, is 
 of the highest conceivable nature ; because it is 
 imposed and enforced by the immensity of God's 
 power. We may observe farther, that the state
 
 ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE. 131 
 
 of man is such that he is accountable to God for 
 his conduct. A thorough conviction of this truth 
 is of the highest importance — for without it there 
 can be no steady principle of virtue, no proper 
 sense of the authority of moral obligation. It is 
 not enough to tell men that they are accountable 
 — their understandings must be convinced. It has 
 been shown, in the first part of this discourse, that 
 the nature of God is the foundation of moral 
 obligation ; and in the second, that this obligation 
 reaches to all the powers of man. There cannot be 
 a greater absurdity than to suppose that such a 
 being, possessed of moral sense, reason, and fi*ee- 
 dom — capable of virtue and vice — should be 
 brought into existence, and be left without a law 
 to govern him and make him accountable. Virtue 
 and vice, from their nature, suppose and imply a 
 law — a standard of right. The same is applied 
 in moral agency. If, therefore, we admit that 
 man is not accountable, we admit that there is 
 no law — no supreme excellence that originates 
 it — in short, that there is no God. This, of all 
 absurdities, is the greatest ; because, if there is 
 no God, then there must at some period have 
 been universal non-existence : and this must 
 
 k2
 
 132 ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE. 
 
 always have been the case, because that which 
 has no existence can never produce any. The 
 whole created universe, therefore, is a direct j)i"oof 
 of the existence of God ; unless we say that the 
 universe created itself; which is the same as to 
 say that nothing can produce something, or that 
 an effect can exist without a cause. We must, 
 therefore, either admit all the absurdities of 
 atheism, or that there is a God. If we admit 
 this, we admit man's accountability — for all the 
 arguments which prove the former, prove the 
 latter. 
 
 The . reasonableness of supreme love to God 
 will farther appear, from the wonderful displays 
 of divine love in redeeming man from a state of 
 impotence, depravity, and guilt. In the sacred 
 Scrij)tures, the love of God, in sending his Son 
 to die for the expiation of human guilt, is exhib- 
 ited in a light calculated to disarm man of his 
 enmity — to emancipate him from the slavery of 
 sin — ^and to inspire him with the most sublime 
 and ardent affection. " God," says an inspfred 
 apostle, " commendeth his love towards us, in 
 that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." 
 The angels in heaven are so affected with the
 
 ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE. 133 
 
 love of God towards man, that they desire " to 
 look into " the work of redemption. To this, all 
 the works of creation and providence are but 
 subordinate parts. If men are bound to love 
 God because he is their Creator, how much more 
 because he is their Redeemer ! Thus, whether we 
 consider the nature of God, the nature and state 
 of man, or the divine wisdom and goodness dis- 
 played in our redemption, we shall find abundant 
 reasons for exercising supreme love to God. 
 
 From the preceding discourse, we may come 
 to tlie following important conclusions — 
 
 First, — That the moral perfection of God is 
 the foundation of moral obligation. 
 
 Second, — That the essence of true virtue, or 
 holiness, consists in supreme love to God. 
 
 Third, — That there is no possible method of 
 obtaining true and permanent happiness, but by 
 the practice of virtue ; because nothing else can 
 assimilate us to God, and make us partakers of 
 his nature. 
 
 These three principles place morality on its 
 proper basis, and present the only motives of 
 sufficient efficacy to enforce the practice of virtue.
 
 134 ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE. 
 
 We have reason, therefore, to conclude that 
 those systems of moral philosophy which omit 
 the doctrine of futm'e rewards and punishments, 
 are erroneous. The Christian system derives its 
 superiority over all others, not so much from the 
 novelty of its doctrines, as from the weight of its 
 motives. It encourages virtue, and represses 
 vice, by appealing to considerations of eternal 
 importance. On the one hand, it presents to the 
 obstinate impenitent transgressor, divine justice 
 arrayed in all the terrors of Almighty power ; 
 and, on the other, holds out to the humble pen- 
 itent believer, the atoning blood of the Son of 
 God. Divine truth proclaims to the world, that 
 " the hour is coming, when all that are in then- 
 graves shall hear the voice of the Son of God, 
 and shall come forth ; they that have done good 
 unto the resurrection of life, and they that have 
 done evil unto the resurrection of condemnation." 
 Without embracing, believing, and obeying the 
 gospel, we can have no hope of eternal life ; but 
 must remain in a " fearful looking for of judg- 
 ment and fiery indignation." The death and 
 resuiTection of Christ have dispersed the shades 
 which hung over the valley of death, and disclosed
 
 ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE. 135 
 
 the glories and terrors of the eternal world. All 
 that is great, sublime, and terrific, on earth, in 
 heaven, or hell — is now addressed to the hopes 
 and the fears of men. Those, therefore, who 
 reject the gospel, and spurn at its precepts and 
 its discipline, must be deemed irreclaimable, and 
 be consigned to destruction. 
 
 We may in the next place observe, from the 
 preceding discourse, the wisdom and goodness of 
 God in making such ample provision for the 
 happiness of man, by endowing him with such 
 various and noble powers. How great are his 
 obligations to use and improve these as God 
 requires ! The great objects of all human know- 
 ledge are, God, nature, and man. For the 
 knowledge of the first, especially of what are 
 called his moral perfections, we must recm- to 
 divine revelation. None but God can know and 
 comprehend his own nature, and his own deter- 
 minations ; and none but he can disclose them. 
 In our knowledge of nature and man, we must be 
 guided wholly by facts, by observation, and ex- 
 perience. In nature, we see what God does ; in 
 revelation, why he does it. The study of nature 
 is the best preparation for the reception of reve-
 
 136 ANNIVERSAEY DISCOURSE. 
 
 lation. In both is displayed the same great, good, 
 and incomprehensible being. The only ground 
 on which we can infer his existence, from his 
 works, is their incomprehensibility. For, if we 
 could comprehend the works of God, we could 
 measure them by our own powers, and resolve 
 them into a being no greater than ourselves. The 
 visible universe is a theatre of effects ; and we 
 know that these must proceed from adequate 
 causes. Nature is an external display of God. 
 Powers and causes are hidden and invisible, and 
 the proper objects of intellect. In studying into 
 the works of nature, we should avoid speculative 
 hypotheses, and be guided wholly by facts. But 
 we must remember that facts are not principles, 
 and that mathematical demonstrations are no 
 proof of the existence of physical powers. Reason 
 is the proper instrument of truth. In the inves- 
 tigations of physical science, experiments merely 
 fmiiish the mind with facts. These, reason 
 arranges, compares, combines, and reduces under 
 facts still more comprehensive ; and these facts 
 we are obliged to consider as ultimate, until some 
 more general can be discovered. In all parts of 
 nature, within and without us, above and below.
 
 ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE. 137 
 
 we meet and feel the invisible God. Through 
 all his works, all is life and motion — a ceaseless 
 circle of change, of generation, growth, decay, 
 dissolution, and revivification. Nothing is lost 
 — nothing annihilated. Matter was never seen 
 in a state of rest — this would destroy it ; it came 
 from God in a state of activity : for that whose 
 essence is life and energy, could never produce 
 inactivity and death. The whole of visible nature 
 is comprised in matter and motion. These have 
 their origin in one common principle, and that 
 principle is power. This originates, modifies, 
 preserves, perfects, and dissolves every portion of 
 temporary nature. This is a world of effects, and 
 these are all produced by motion. Without this 
 we could exercise no power over the smallest 
 particle of matter, nor could the laws of nature 
 exist. The splendid and ever varying phenomena 
 of the universe would cease ; and all its various 
 parts, with their majestic decorations, would revert 
 to their original som'ce. How far creation extends, 
 from its lowest to its highest limit, we caimot 
 determine ; but this we know, that God has re- 
 served to himself, as his peculiar prerogative, the 
 power of creation and annihilation. Within these
 
 138 ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE. 
 
 limits all that is called nature exists, all her laws 
 operate, and all her phenomena are displayed. 
 Nature is a system of living laws, ilowing from 
 God, and, in their endless variety of combinations 
 and results, producing all possible efiFects except 
 those which are j)eculiar to Almighty power. 
 What an august, what a magnificent scene is 
 nature ! Whether we siu'vey this lower world, 
 with its appendages, or ascend into the vast am- 
 phitheatre of God above us, we are filled with 
 astonishment and awe, and are forced to exclaim, 
 " these are thy works, parent of good, Almighty!" 
 From the preceding discourse we may faither 
 remark, that the internal constitution of man is 
 wonderfully adjusted to his external condition. 
 Designing wisdom is no where more legible than 
 in the laws which bind man to all parts of nature. 
 The same principles of order and symmetry, of 
 succession and variety, which govern the jjowers 
 and operations of mind, extend to the larger 
 portions of the universe, pervade their structure, 
 and bind them together in one vast and niagni- 
 ficent system. The innumerable forms of matter 
 which occupy this august spectacle, astonish the 
 mind of man, and, while they spread delight
 
 ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE. 139 
 
 through all his faculties, proclaim him the priest 
 and the monarch of nature. The whole visible 
 universe is the handwriting of God, and speaks a 
 language known in wisdom's ear, and calculated 
 to excite man's curiosity — to rouse all his powers 
 into the most vigorous exertion — to elevate and 
 expand his hopes, and to accelerate his course 
 along the shining path of immortality. 
 
 God has connected man with all his works, and 
 exhibited, in his constitution, an epitome of the 
 universe. By his corporeal frame, he is allied to 
 matter ; by his animated organization to the 
 whole vegetable and animal world ; by his moral 
 and intellectual powers to God, and all intelligent 
 beings. What a noble being is man ! What 
 an exalted station does he hold in the works 
 of God ! What vast extremes does he combine 
 in his nature ! On the one hand, he ranks with 
 the highest angel that burns before the throne 
 of God, and on the other with the meanest 
 worm that crawls on earth. His present state 
 is the beginning of his existence, and is rapidly 
 passing away. He is travelling on to higher 
 hopes and brighter scenes. Though he is doomed 
 to sink into the dust, and become a prisoner of
 
 140 ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE. 
 
 the tomb ; yet, when the wheels of time shall 
 have run their destined com^se, when natm-e 
 shall have arrived at the utmost limit of all her 
 processes and powers, the voice of God will call 
 him forth to share his lofty destiny, and run an 
 endless race of glory. We may rest assured that 
 God will suffer none of his works to be lost ; and, 
 however they at present groan under the bondage 
 of corruption, yet they will assuredly be brought 
 into the glorious liberty of the children of God ! 
 To this result, all the laws which obtain through 
 the whole sphere of fallen nature, directly tend ; 
 and are holding on in their undeviadng course, 
 through the innumerable mutations, compositions, 
 and dissolutions incident to a state of disjoined 
 and warring elements. The material universe is 
 a mere temporary creation, which will soon pass 
 away. It is rapidly rolling on, through innume- 
 rable changes, towards its final destiny. Nature 
 will then throw off her visible material form, 
 assuming her spiritual properties; and shining in 
 all her primeval glory. Time and place, succession 
 and change, will then cease ; for these are merely 
 the adjuncts of visible and tangible forms, and can 
 have no existence when these forms shall cease —
 
 ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE. 141 
 
 when God from heaven shall proclaim, "Behold ! 
 I make all things new." 
 
 Let us not then despond, though we are sub- 
 jected to vanity. God has subjected us in hope : 
 let us rather exult and rejoice, knowing that he 
 who has promised is the unchanging God of truth. 
 Let us cheerfully submit to him, and view with 
 rapturous emotions the grand and majestic march 
 of nature, through the long train of fleeting, 
 changing, and perishing forms of visible matter, 
 until we reach our ultimate limit in a disencum- 
 bered and renovated world ; in " an inheritance 
 incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not 
 away." The laws of nature will then have accom- 
 plished their ultimate destination — matter will be 
 transmuted and sublimed into its primordial prin- 
 ciples — every atom will have found its station, 
 and will be poised on its immovable centre — the 
 conflicting elements of fallen nature will be har- 
 monized under the empire of love ; pain, and 
 sorrow, and death shall no longer have a name 
 or place in the works of God — and one boimd- 
 less tide of glory shall pervade the universe !
 
 AN 
 
 INTEODUCTORY LECTURE 
 
 TO A C0DB8E, OK THE PHILOBOPHICAI. PBIHCIPLBB OT 
 
 KHETOEIC AND CRITICISM; 
 
 DESIGNED FOB THE 
 
 SENIOR GU\SS OF THE SOUTH CAROLINA COLLEGE, 
 
 And delivered in the Public Chapel, April 8th, 1817.
 
 A LECTURE 
 
 My principal object, in the following course of 
 lectures, is to unfold the principles of rhetoric 
 and philosophical criticism. To do this in a 
 manners satisfactory to men of profound eru- 
 dition, of extensive reseai'ch, and cultivated taste, 
 requires abilities and resources to which I can 
 have but small pretensions. On subjects which 
 have been so frequently and so learnedly treated, 
 little of novelty, little of originality, is to be 
 expected. If by bringing into view, and reducing 
 to a scientific system, those principles on which 
 the art of rhetoric is founded, and from which 
 the rules to guide us to just decisions in the pro- 
 ductions of genius and taste are derived, I can be 
 so fortunate as to excite the curiosity of my pupils 
 — to enlist their ambition in the attractive pur- 
 
 L
 
 146 INTRODUCTORY LECTURE, 
 
 suits of polite learning — to improve their taste, 
 and enliven their genius — to expedite the evo- 
 lution and cultivation of their mental powers — 
 to accelerate their progress in elegant literature 
 and genuine philosophy — my ambition will be 
 gratified, and my labors rewarded. 
 
 Rhetoric, or oratory, is the art of speaking, so 
 as to convince and persuade. From its very 
 nature and end, therefore, it addresses not only 
 the understanding, but the will. Its province is 
 not only to present truth, and duty, and interest, 
 to the intellective powers, so as to convince ; but 
 to the active and moral, so as to persuade. When 
 we consider man merely as a contemplative phi- 
 losopher, it is sufficient that his understanding 
 be enlightened; but when we consider him as 
 an accountable being, endowed with passions, 
 with moral feelings and active energies — a being 
 stationed in society, where he has various obli- 
 gations to fulfil, weighty duties to discharge, high 
 interests to pursue — a being jDossessed of elective 
 and conscientious faculties, who can recognize 
 himself when he acts, and can feel the obligatory 
 force of law — a being who, by his own powers, 
 can forward tlie perfection of his natiure beyond
 
 INTRODUCTORY LECTURE. 147 
 
 any assignable limits, and, by the practice of 
 virtue, can secure the enjoyment of endless felicity 
 — when we consider man in these respects, we 
 feel the want of something more than a cold dis- 
 play of truth — we feel the necessity of engaging 
 his sensibility, by spreading before him the chaims 
 of beauty — of rousing up his imagination, by all 
 that is grand, sublime, and awful — of firing his 
 passions, and, through these, engaging all his 
 powers of body and mind in supporting truth and 
 virtue, and branding vice and falsehood with 
 eternal infamy. The orator's skill consists, in a 
 gi'eat degree, in working on the active powers of 
 man. He ought to be thoroughly acquainted 
 with all the springs of human action. He must 
 pry into the inmost recesses of the heart, and 
 fully understand the passions, the laws of their 
 growth, continuance, and decay; their innumer- 
 able modifications in the innumerable and ever 
 varying circumstances and characters of men. 
 In short, he must thoroughly understand the 
 sensitive branch of man's nature ; for here we 
 are ultimately to look for all those laws which 
 ought to govern the production of genius in 
 history, poetry, and eloquence, so far as the 
 
 l2
 
 148 INTRODUCTORY LECTURE. 
 
 manner of their execution is concerned. No 
 one will understand the art of rhetoric, unless 
 he traces it up to its scientific princij)les. These 
 undoubtedly exist in the nature of man, and he 
 who is ignorant of them, can neither judge with 
 accuracy, nor execute with skill and success. Art 
 is nature methodized. Indeed, we may safely 
 assert, that the princij)les of all arts and sciences 
 exist in nature. To develoj)e these is the prov- 
 ince of the i^hilosopher. Let us now for a moment 
 turn our attention to philosophical criticism. By 
 this we are to understand, application of scientific 
 principles to the productions of art and genius, 
 with a view to ascertain the beauties and defects 
 of the latter, and to adjust their intrinsic and 
 comparative merits. There can be no ground for 
 criticism, unless there is a standard to which the 
 productions of art ought to conform. 
 
 The powers of taste render us sensible to the 
 impressions of beauty ; and, so far as these im- 
 pressions are made by art, the powers of intellect 
 enable us to assign the reasons of them, and to 
 refer them to their legitimate origin. Hence, 
 the study of scientific criticism becomes an in- 
 teresting and noble employment, suited to the
 
 INTRODUCTORY LECTURE. 149 
 
 nature of man, calculated to furnish him with 
 the most valuable knowledge — that of himself; 
 calculated to yield the purest pleasures, to elevate 
 him in the scale of being, by refining his sensi- 
 bility, and invigorating his understanding. 
 
 From this slight sketch, you will readily per- 
 ceive that the principles of oratory and criticism 
 virtually embrace the principles of all those arts 
 which are denominated fine. For the produc- 
 tions of these are all addressed to man as a 
 being endowed with reason, sensibility to beauty, 
 imagination, and passions. More efiectually to 
 excite your attention, and enable you to appre- 
 ciate the importance of the subjects of the follow- 
 ing lectures, I shall now briefly point out some of 
 the advantages which may be expected from a 
 scientific study of the jsrinciples of rhetoric and 
 criticism. 
 
 This study will enable us more fully to com- 
 prehend the nature of language, and to estimate 
 its great importance and use. Language has, by 
 imiversal consent, become the universal vehicle of 
 knowledge. Words, when spoken, are addressed 
 to the ear, and are signs of ideas ; but when 
 written, are addressed to tlie eye, and are signs of 
 articulate sounds,
 
 150 INTRODUCTORY LECTURE. 
 
 Words do not answer their end in the same 
 manner as pictures do. They are not to be con- 
 sidered as representative substitutions, formed on 
 the jDrinciple of resemblance, but as arbitrary 
 signs, adopted by voluntary convention. Words, 
 when spoken or written, do not convey ideas to 
 the mind by imitation or picture ; but by sug- 
 gestion. By the habit of connecting a particular 
 idea with a particular word, a connexion so inti- 
 mate is formed between them, that, as soon as 
 the latter is sj^oken or written, the former enters 
 the mind. The expressive power of words depends 
 almost entirely on this connection. It must, 
 however, be remembered that the meaning of 
 words is often greatly altered by the particular 
 place which they happen to occupy in discourse. 
 Superficial, or careless thinkers, are very apt to 
 suppose that every word in a discourse stands for 
 a particular idea. So far is this from the truth, 
 that many words will be found to derive their 
 whole meaning from the place they occupy, 
 and the relation they sustain to others. On 
 slight reflection, we are apt to suppose tliat lan- 
 guage would be the most perfect which had a 
 particular word for every idea; but experience
 
 INTRODUCTORY LECTURE. l5l 
 
 will soon convince us, that this very circumstance 
 would render a language almost useless. It would 
 not answer even the pm'poses of social intercourse, 
 much less of science and ratiocination. 
 
 Let any one make the experiment : let him 
 attempt to carry on a train of reasoning or dis- 
 course, without the use of what are called com- 
 plex or general terms — and, instead of these, let 
 him give a distinct enumeration of all the parts 
 of the complex or general ideas for which those 
 terms stand — he will soon find his words so 
 numerous, and his circumlocutions so embar- 
 rassing, that he will be bewildered and lost amidst 
 his own effort, and utterly incapable of advancing. 
 Hence it is that, in all languages, nearly all the 
 words are general ; they are universal tenns, ex- 
 pressive of the highest genera, or most extensive 
 comprehensions. It may then be asked — How 
 then can particulars be expressed ? I answer, by 
 making a skilful use of the wonderful arts of 
 speech, by which the meaning of words is aj)pro- 
 priated, limited, and modified, according to the 
 various exigencies of the mind. Hence we see 
 the vast importance of thoroughly studying the 
 principles of grammar. These, by some philo-
 
 152 INTRODUCTORY LECTURE. 
 
 sophers, have been compared to the foundation 
 of a palace, which, though it is the most impor- 
 tant part, and sustains the whole superstructure, 
 is nevertheless most out of sight, and least noticed. 
 Language is so familiar to us from our infancy, 
 that we are apt to consider the particular study 
 of it as unnecessary and useless. Why should 
 we waste our time in learning words ? Permit 
 me to say, that if you learn words as you ought, 
 you will learn things — and tilings of the highest 
 importance. 
 
 Language is a most wonderful art — the great- 
 est of all arts. It was invented by the mind, to 
 expedite its own jaurposes, and to improve its 
 Own powers. Hence the principles and laws of 
 mind pervade the structure, and govern the 
 modification of language. Hence, while you are 
 studying words, if you study them as a philosopher 
 does, you are studying the powers, laws, and 
 operations of mind ; you are studying a science 
 which unfolds the principles, and prescribes the 
 laws and rules, of all arts and sciences. 
 
 Let those, therefore, who affect to look with 
 contempt on the study of languages, remember 
 that they betray their own ignorance of the most
 
 INTRODUCTORY LECTURE. 153 
 
 sublime pursuits that ever occupied the mind of 
 man. So intimate is the connexion between 
 science, and a well arranged language, that some 
 have asserted — that to learn a science was only to 
 learn a language. Words were first used merely 
 for the communication of thoughts and senti- 
 ments. As the social state advanced in civilization 
 and refinement — as the increasing exigencies of 
 man called forth his corporeal and mental ex- 
 ertions — as arts and sciences grew and flourished 
 — words multiplied, new modes of phraseology 
 were invented, until language became what we 
 now find it, a wonderful instrument of art, to aid 
 the intellectual jjowers in the acquisition, reten- 
 tion, and communication of knowledge. The 
 study of language, when considered as an instru- 
 ment of thought, is highly curious and interesting. 
 The advantages of it as a vehicle of our thoughts 
 to others, are obvious ; but its use, as an aid to 
 oiu" mental operations and processes of solitary 
 speculation, is not so obvious, though equally 
 great, and more indispensable. 
 
 The next advantage arising fi*om the scientific 
 study of rhetoric and criticism is, that it will fur- 
 nish us with a more perfect knowledge of oiu"
 
 154 INTRODUCTORY LECTURE. 
 
 internal constitution, and enable us more effect- 
 ually to cultivate and improve our intellectual 
 powers. Though truth is, in its nature, uniform 
 yet, in its appearance, it is various. Hence, in 
 our inquiries after it, we are obliged to adopt 
 different modes of investigation, and to recur to 
 different sources of evidence. In matters of pure 
 abstract science, all we require is consistency in 
 the mind's conception. In things of an historical 
 nature we recur to testimony. In things be- 
 longing to mind — its various modifications and 
 passions, its laws and powers — we recur to con- 
 sciousness. As to the existence and reality of 
 material things, we recur to our external senses. 
 In estimating the productions of genius, in 
 literature and in the fine arts, we recur to taste. 
 This, however, is not to be considered as a simple 
 power — a mere sensibility to beauty — but as a 
 complex faculty, the result of various mental 
 powers highly improved. Taste is not merely 
 sensitive, but discerning. In literature, it implies 
 a clear, lively, and distinct discernment of all that 
 is true, just, and beautiful, in sentiment and style. 
 The operations of intellect are involved in all the 
 just decisions of taste. TJie power of taste is,
 
 INTRODUCTORY LECTURE. 165 
 
 therefore, to be considered as a discerning faculty, 
 a kind of natural reason and sensibility, wrought 
 up to perfection by exercise and study. It is not 
 confined to literature ; it extends to all arts and 
 sciences, and to all branches of knowledge, as- 
 signing to each its appropriate and comparative 
 merit ; pointing out what is beautiful and useful 
 in each, pruning what is redundant, supplying 
 what is deficient, and, though infinitely diversified 
 in its principle, yet always preserving the beau- 
 tiful and the true in each kind, and on every 
 subject dispensing the graces of style with pru- 
 dence and wisdom. In critical examinations of 
 the productions of genius, in history, poetry, 
 and eloquence, we constantly recur to the powers, 
 laws, and operations of mind. No exercise, 
 therefore, is better calculated to cultivate the 
 principles of taste, tlian philosophical criticism. 
 None is better calculated to enlarge and perfect 
 our knowledge of mind. Here are we to look 
 for the origin of all those charms for which the 
 works of genius, in the fine arts and in oratorical 
 composition, are distinguished. Genuine criticism 
 requires the union of truth and taste, and refers 
 all that is really elegant and sublime in com- 
 position, to the principles of a sound logic.
 
 156 INTRODUCTORY LECTURE. 
 
 Nothing excellent, orderly, or beautiful, was 
 ever produced by chance. It is mind that 
 creates, inspires, adorns, and governs all things. 
 The object of all genuine philosophy is the 
 investigation of principles, and the application 
 of these to the explanation of phenomena. 
 Principles are of two kinds, experimental and 
 rational. The former are general facts, found by 
 observation universally to obtain, and are referred 
 to as data, to explain other facts which they 
 involve. These principles are obtained by ex- 
 periment, and by observation of facts. The 
 method of proceeding is, in modern physics, by 
 analysis, which resolves the compound forms of 
 matter and motion into their constituent, elemen- 
 tary parts. What is called natural philosophy, 
 appears to me more properly denominated 
 natural history, since it takes facts, and not 
 causes, for principles. 
 
 This is, indeed, all that physics can do ; for its 
 legitimate object is, not to find out necessary 
 connections, but constant conjunctions — not to 
 investigate elementary causes, but to exhibit sen- 
 sible facts. But we must remember that facts 
 are not, philosophically speaking, principles, but
 
 INTRODUCTORY LECTURE. 157 
 
 effects which flow froin tliem. True philosophy 
 takes a higher aim. Her objects are powers, 
 and primary causes ; aud these she obtains by a 
 regular analysis. Rational principles are obtained 
 by the exercise of our intellectual faculties, in 
 analysing the conceptions of the understanding, 
 whose evidence rests on intuitive perceptions. In 
 tliis mode of proceeding, we have as much cer- 
 tainty as we can have by experiment ; for we are 
 not more certain of our existence, than we are of 
 the perceptions of our own minds. Experiments 
 may present facts to the understanding, but can- 
 not develop principles ; these lie beyond the 
 region of sense, and must be sought for by reason 
 — ^for this is the proper instrument of all truth. 
 While investigating the philosophical principles 
 of rhetoric and criticism, we are occupied with 
 mental phenomena. These are proper subjects 
 of observation, and contain in them the principles 
 of all our knowledge of mind, as much as the 
 appearances of the visible world contain the prin- 
 ciples of all our knowledge of matter. Hence, 
 criticism assumes a scientific form, and rests on a 
 basis not less certain than that of natural philo- 
 sophy. To the young, tlie study of rhetoric and
 
 158 INTRODUCTORY LECTURE. 
 
 criticism is vastly more attractive than that of the 
 abstract sciences, and eminently calculated to 
 excite their curiosity — to evolve, invigorate, and 
 perfect the intellectual 2)owers. 
 
 The pleasures of these elegant pursuits are 
 less remote than those of pure intellect, from the 
 province of sense and imagination ; are enjoyed 
 with less effort of abstraction ; and, by constantly 
 exercising the powers of taste, diminish the 
 fatigue of mental labor; and, while they enliven 
 and expand the imagination, by presenting the 
 attractions of beauty, they excite and invigorate 
 the powers of the understanding, by a rigid dis- 
 cipline in jDractical logic. On subjects naturally 
 agreeable, habits of reasoning are insensibly 
 formed, and the mind gradually prepared for the 
 highest exertions of intellect. By a constant 
 reference to the laws and powers of the human 
 mind, we acquire an extensive knowledge of this 
 subject, and lay a sure foundation for a more just 
 and rational mode of education. In the midst 
 of our favorable anticipations of future improve- 
 ment, we must be cautious, in rhetoric and 
 criticism, not to attribute too much efficacy to 
 rules and precepts. Nature must lay the founda-
 
 INTRODUCTORY LECTURE. 169 
 
 tion of all that is txuly excellent and meritorious. 
 Every man is undoubtedly born with the germs 
 of all the powers which he ever afterwai'ds dis- 
 plays. Art may improve the gifts, but can never 
 supply the barrenness of natiu'e. All our powers 
 exist in a state of me]'e capacity ; subsequent 
 occurrences and exigencies call them forth into 
 energy. Had we the means of accurate and con- 
 tinued observation, it is probable that man would 
 appear equally great in every j^eriod of the world. 
 The utility of rules consists in this, tliat by 
 directing our exertions in a proper train, they 
 will enable us to compass their objects with the 
 fewest errors, and the most complete success. 
 
 We greatly err if we imagine that the first 
 poets, orators, and historians, were formed by 
 the scientific system of philosophers and critics. 
 On the contrary, the first great writers, by the 
 unaided productions of their own genius, gave 
 rise to criticism. Ancient Greece, in her happiest 
 days, was the seat of learning, civility, and arts. 
 A crowd of illustrious performers burst at once 
 on the view, and, by the mighty toils of genius, 
 astonished and delighted their cotemporaries. 
 The Greek philosophers, the subtle investigators
 
 160 INTIlODUCTOllY LECTUKE. 
 
 of principles, were led to pry into the causes of 
 these wonderful effects. Hence, among them, 
 criticism was a deej) and thorough search into 
 the principles of good writing, so far as these 
 were sanctioned by existing productions. Aristotle, 
 the systematiser of Plato, in his treatises on 
 rhetoric and poetry, unfolded, with wonderful 
 penetration, the elementary principles of these 
 arts. He reduced criticism to a scientific form, 
 and presented its principles in such an alliance 
 with philosophy, that we can call it by no better 
 name than philosophical criticism. He united 
 truth and taste, blended the light of reason with 
 the graces of beauty, and added the completions 
 of art to the inventions of genius. Criticism 
 opened a most extensive field, and presented, as 
 objects of investigation, the nature of man, his 
 intellect, imagination, passions, and the innu- 
 merable modifications of character of which he is 
 susceptible in every stage of life, and in every 
 condition of society. 
 
 Hence all the means were explored, by which 
 the orator, the poet, and the historian, accom- 
 plished their several objects. Words became 
 objects of high consideration, and subjects of
 
 INTRODUCTORY LECTURE. 161 
 
 critical scrutiny. They were distributed into their 
 various kinds ; their powers in numerous com- 
 position, both in poetry and prose, were ascertained 
 and their meaning defined. Inquiries were in- 
 stituted into the various sources from which 
 materials were to be drawn, to enlighten the un- 
 derstanding, to excite and allay the passions. 
 Thus philosophical criticism opened a vast field 
 of inquiry for the grammarian, the rhetorician, 
 the orator, the logician, and the moralist. From 
 this view of the subject, it appears that language 
 is, in its structure, so interwoven with the laws 
 and powers of mind, that a true knowledge of the 
 former implies a knowledge of the latter ; and that 
 grammar, rhetoric, and logic, are so nearly united, 
 that they are more properly degrees of the same, 
 than systems of different sciences. In various 
 instances, our corporeal and mental powers appear 
 to be subjected to the same laws, and to be sus- 
 ceptible of improvement from the same methods 
 of discipline. It is universally admitted as a 
 truth, that all our powers, both of body and mind, 
 gain strength by exercise. This is abundantly 
 evident in the wonderful facility and dexterity 
 produced by exercise in all mechanical oi)erations. 
 
 M
 
 162 INTRODUCTORY LECTURE. 
 
 Philosophy, as yet, has done but little towards 
 furnishing a rational method of improving the 
 mind. 
 
 All that has been heretofore done on this sub- 
 ject, is merely tentative ; nor can much farther 
 be expected, until the powers and laws of the 
 human mind are more thoroughly explored, and 
 more clearly developed. When this shall be 
 accomjjlished, it will not be deemed extravagant 
 to hope, that such efficacious methods of exercise 
 and discipline will be devised, as will communi- 
 cate strength and skill, with as much certainty 
 and success to our mental, as to our coi-poreal 
 powers. Of this we shall find little reason to 
 doubt, when we consider that wonderful part of 
 man's constitution, by which he is susceptible of 
 habit. How this gains ground and is established 
 either in body or mind, it is, perhaps, impossible 
 for us to say, except that such is the will of 
 God. The fact is undeniable ; and is the only 
 ground of all our ability and skill in corporeal 
 or intellectual operations. Susceptibility of 
 habit distinguishes man from all other animals, 
 no less than his intellect and moral sense. Some 
 animals are, in a degree, capable of an increased
 
 INTRODUCTORY LECTURE. 163 
 
 facility in performing certain mechanical opera- 
 tions ; but they are wholly incapable of those 
 high attainments, which result from invention 
 and voluntary discipline. None of the lower 
 classes of animals can improve on their own pro- 
 ductions, or on those of their predecessors. Their 
 first effort of skill is as perfect as their last. Man 
 alone has the power of forwarding the perfection 
 of his nature beyond any assignable limits, by 
 the voluntary exercise and discipline of his own 
 powers. 
 
 By blending with the study of mental philo- 
 sophy, those arts, whose principal object is beauty, 
 we may reasonably expect that the former will 
 be pursued with greater ardour, and be crowned 
 with greater success ; that more judicious 
 methods of instruction and discipline will be 
 invented, and all intellectual powers more com- 
 pletely evolved, and carried to their highest 
 degree of perfection. 
 
 Another benefit resulting fi-om the scientific 
 study of rhetoric and criticism is, that it will 
 enable us to cultivate, with greater hope of suc- 
 cess, the most valuable of all arts, oratoi-y. 
 
 The high importance and extensive utility of 
 
 M 2
 
 164 INTRODUCTORY LECTURE. 
 
 this, are universally admitted. We should, 
 therefore, justly expect, that oratory would be 
 Studied and cultivated with the gi'eatest assiduity 
 and zeal ; and, that no means would be left 
 untried to facilitate its acquisition. So far from 
 this, we scarcely find it made a part of the course 
 of education pursued in our public colleges and 
 universities. Scarce an instance can be found, in 
 which even a single professorship is instituted for 
 the cultivation of this sublime and noble art. 
 Neither public patronage nor private munificence 
 has yet called forth the efibrts of the learned and 
 ingenious, for reviving and improving the study 
 and practice of eloquence. 
 
 From considering the neglect and degradation 
 of oratory, we should susjoect, either that the sub- 
 ject itself was embarrassed witli insurmountable 
 obstacles, or that the ends of this art could be 
 obtained by means less expensive and laborious. 
 It is a position generally admitted, that eloquence 
 will flourish in every nation, in proportion as the 
 government is free. The first governments insti- 
 tuted over men were despotic monarchies. In these 
 the people felt no interest. They had no share 
 in the public concerns of the state — they were
 
 INTRODUCTORY LECTURE. 166 
 
 treated as inferior beings, crushed under the arm 
 of power, and swayed by fear. The annals of the 
 world furnish no trace of eloquence until we come 
 to the Democratic States of Ancient Greece. 
 Here the affairs of the state were deliberated on, 
 discussed, and decided, in the assemblies of the 
 whole people. He who could have most influence 
 in these, was master of the State. Here fame, 
 ■wealth, honor, and power, waited on the steps of 
 the orator. Place men in the same political 
 situation, in any other age or coimtry, and the 
 same effects will follow. It must, however, be 
 observed, that such governments as the petty 
 democracies of Ancient Greece are utterly im- 
 practicable among people spread over extensive 
 districts of territory ; representative governments 
 can never be so free, nor can they be so tyrannical, 
 as small democracies. 
 
 Such governments as those of the individual, 
 and of the United States, possess as high a degree 
 of freedom as is practicable or desirable, and afford 
 ample scope for the powers of the orator. We 
 must not, however, expect that the world in her 
 old age, when the sciences have gained the as- 
 cendancv over the arts — when men are swaved
 
 166 INTRODUCTORY LECTURE, 
 
 more by reason and judgement than by fancy and 
 passion — will bring forth such vigorous children 
 as in the days of her youthful maturity. Among 
 the various causes which might be assigned for 
 the decay of oratory in modern times, I shall 
 mention only one ; I mean the neglect of the 
 language of the fancy and passions. Language, 
 in its common acceptation, is limited to words, 
 either written or spoken. Language, thus under- 
 stood, would probably answer every purpose, did 
 man possess no power but intellect. This, how- 
 ever, is far from being the case. He possesses 
 fancy and passions : these constitute a most in- 
 teresting branch of his nature. They are furnished 
 by nature with a language peculiar to themselves 
 — a language which, without art or study, instantly 
 expresses all their impulses, movements, and 
 modifications. On this language depends all 
 that is forcible, affecting, and sublime in oratory. 
 Words are sufficient to convey what are called 
 ideas, but are absolutely incapable of expressing 
 our internal feelings, sentiments, and passions. 
 
 Words, of course, cannot supply the exigencies 
 of the orator, since they furnish him with no means 
 of operating on the active powers of man. It may
 
 INTRODUCTORY LECTURE. 167 
 
 then be enquired, what more is wanted ? I 
 answer, the language of looks, tones, and gestures. 
 These constitute a natural language, formed by 
 God himselfj and intelligible to all men, in all 
 ages and nations. By looks and gestures only, 
 all that passes in the mind may be completely 
 conveyed. For the truth of this I appeal to the 
 ancient pantomimic representations. In these 
 not a word was spoken — the spectators were in- 
 terested, agitated, transported— they laughed, 
 wept, rejoiced, and felt by turns all the passions 
 and sentiments peculiar to man. It was even a 
 contest, between the great Roman orator, and 
 Roscius, which could express a sentiment most 
 forcibly — the former by words, and the latter by 
 look and gestures. Thus we may safely assert, 
 that words are not even an indispensable part of 
 language ; and yet this is all, or nearly all, to 
 which the modern teachers of eloquence pay any 
 attention. No wonder that eloquence is not heai'd, 
 when she has lost her tongue ! Can this be 
 restored ? Undoubtedly it can. What has been 
 done once, can be done again. The ancients 
 ]jerfectly understood this language. All that is 
 now wanted to revive it, is the attention and labor
 
 168 INTRODUCTORY LECTURE. 
 
 of ingenious men, to copy it from natm*e, and 
 reduce it to system. 
 
 Looks and gestures constitute a language of 
 external signs. These are the work of nature 
 herself, and they exactly correspond to their in- 
 ternal cause. All men, from their birth, know 
 this language, and can, with the utmost certainty 
 and facility, refer every external sign to its internal 
 principle. ITiis is more evident, with respect to 
 the more vigorous emotions and passions. 
 
 These are marked with a distinct sign which 
 is never misunderetood, either in kind or degree. 
 The other, less vigorous, are marked by a com- 
 mon sign, sufficiently distinct and legible to 
 indicate their nature. One who has not paid 
 particular attention to this subject, will not 
 readily believe or conceive the exact harmony 
 with which the external form and powers of man 
 are adjusted to his internal sentiments and pas- 
 sions. What internal feeling, passion, or 
 sentiment, cannot readily and clearly be pointed 
 out by the motion of the hand, head, eyes — in 
 short, by all the features of the countenance, and 
 by all the attitudes of the body ? To these, add 
 the expressive power of tones. These vary and
 
 IXTRODtJCTORY LECTURE. 169 
 
 modify, almost indefinitely, the meaning and 
 force of any form of words. The accounts of the 
 effects of ancient oratory seem incredible ; but, 
 ■when we consider what a powerful instrument 
 language was, as used by the ancients, consisting 
 of words the most expressive, delivered in tones 
 suggested by the sentiment, and these all accom- 
 panied by looks and gestures, each of which 
 would constitute a powerful medium of convey- 
 ance ; our incredulity will vanish, and we shall be 
 filled with astonishment and admiration at 
 human skill and genius. While destitute of the 
 knowledge and use of language, in its fullest 
 extent, we are ignorant of some of om- noblest 
 powers, and deprived of some of the highest 
 enjoyments of which we are capable. That part 
 of our constitution, which is the seat of the fancy 
 and passions, is, at present, almost wholly barren 
 and uncultivated. These limbs of our constitu- 
 tion, which have withered in a palsy of two 
 thousand years, must be revived by the galvanic 
 pile of wealth, and honor, and fame, and restored 
 to the pristine health and vigour. 
 
 Let the youth, under the most accomplished 
 rhetorical teachers, be carried through as long a
 
 170 INTRODUCTORY LECTURE. 
 
 series of laborious exercises, as those who are 
 destined for mechanical labor, and we need not 
 despair to see another Cicero and Demosthenes. 
 The scientific study of rhetoric and criticism, will 
 keep alive all their subsidiary branches of litera- 
 ture and science ; and, by promoting a taste for 
 all the arts of elegance and beauty, will con- 
 tribute to individual happiness and public 
 prosperity.
 
 A DISCOURSE 
 
 ON 
 
 THE EXISTENCE OF GOD, 
 39rtnonstrateD from t^e Wtotka of ^rratton, 
 
 DELITERBn 
 
 BEFORE THE STUDENTS OF BROWN UNIVERSITY, 
 On Sunday, August 9th, 1795.
 
 
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 ETi
 
 A DISCOURSE 
 
 " For tJie invisible things of Him from the 
 creation of the tvorld are clearly seen, being 
 tmderstood by the things that are made, even 
 His eternal j)ower and Godhead." 
 
 Romans i. 20. 
 
 Nothing will more effectually guard us against 
 vice than a firm belief of the existence of God. 
 For surely, if we realize that there is such 
 a Being, we shall naturally infer from his per- 
 fections, from the nature of his moral government, 
 and from om' situation as rational creatures, 
 that we are amenable at his awful tribunal 
 Superior power, wisdom, and goodness, always 
 lay us under restraint, and command our vene- 
 ration. These, even in a mortal, overawe us.
 
 174 THE EXISTENCE OF GOD. 
 
 They restrain, not only the actions, but the words 
 and thoughts of the most vicious and abandoned. 
 Our happiness depends on our virtue. Our virtue 
 depends on the conformity of our hearts and 
 conduct to the laws prescribed us by our beneficent 
 Creator. Of what vast importance, then, is it to 
 our present as well as future felicity, to possess 
 in our hearts a feeling sense, and, in our under- 
 standings, a clear conviction of the existence of 
 that Being, whose power and goodness are un- 
 bounded, whose presence fills immensity, and 
 whose wisdom, like a torrent of lightning, emanates 
 through all the dark recesses of eternal duration ! 
 How great must be the effect of a sense of the 
 presence of the great Creator and Governor of all 
 things, to whom belong the attributes, eternity, 
 independency, perfect holiness, inflexible justice, 
 and inviolable veracity ; complete happiness, and 
 glorious majesty ; supreme right, and unbounded 
 dominion ! A sense of accountability to God 
 will retard the eager pursuit of vice ; it will 
 humble the heart of the proud, it will bridle the 
 tongue of the profane, and snatch the knife from 
 the hand of the assassin. A belief of the exis- 
 tence of God is the true original source of all
 
 THE EXISTENCE OF GOD. 175 
 
 virtue, and the only foundation of all religion, 
 natural or revealed. Set aside this great luminous 
 truth — erase the conviction of it from the heart — 
 you then place virtue and vice on the same level; 
 you drive afflicted innocence into despair; you 
 add new effrontery to the marred visage of guilt ; 
 you plant thorns in the path, and shed an 
 impenetrable gloom over the prospects of the 
 righteous. Sin has alienated the affections, and 
 diverted the attention of men from the gi-eat 
 Jehovah. " Darkness has covered the earth, and 
 gross darkness the people." Men have worshipped 
 the works of their own hands, and neglected the 
 true God, though his existence and perfections 
 were stamped in glaring characters on all creation. 
 From the regularity, order, beauty, and conser- 
 vation of this great system of things, of which 
 man makes a part — ^from the uniform tendency of 
 all its divisions to their proper ends — the existence 
 of God shines as clearly as the sun in the heavens. 
 " From the things that are made," says the text, 
 " are seen his eternal power and Godhead." 
 
 I. — Man himself is a proof of God's existence. 
 Let us place him before us in his full stature.
 
 176 THE EXISTENCE OF GOD. 
 
 We are at once impressed with the beautiful 
 organization of his body, with the orderly and 
 harmonious arrangement of his members. Such 
 is the disposition of these, that their motion is 
 the most easy, graceful, and useful, that can be 
 conceived. We are astonished to see the same 
 simple matter diversified into so many different 
 substances, of different qualities, size, and figure. 
 If we pursue our researches through the internal 
 economy, we shall find, that all the different 
 opposite parts correspond to each other with the 
 utmost exactness and order ; that they all answer 
 the most beneficent purposes. This wonderful 
 machine, the human body, is animated, cherished, 
 and preserved by a spirit within, which pervades 
 every particle, feels in every organ, warns us of 
 injury, and administers to our pleasures. Erect 
 in stature, man differs from all other animals. 
 Though his foot is confined to the earth, yet his 
 eye measures the whole circuit of heaven, and, 
 in an instant, takes in thousands of worlds. His 
 countenance is turned upward, to teach us that 
 he is not like other animals limited to the earth ; 
 but looks forward to brighter scenes of existence 
 in the skies. Whence came this erect, orderly,
 
 THE EXISTENCE OF GOD. 177 
 
 beautiful constitution of the human body ? Did 
 it spring up from the earth self-formed ? Surely 
 not. Earth itself is inactive matter. That which 
 has no motion can never produce any. Man surely 
 could not, as has been vainly and idly supposed, 
 have been formed by the fortuitous concurrence 
 of atoms. We behold the most exact order in 
 the constitution of the human body. Order always 
 involves design : design always involves intelli- 
 gence. That intelligence, which directed the 
 orderly formation of the human body, must have 
 resided in a Being whose power was adequate to 
 the production of such an effect. Creation surely 
 is the prerogative of a self- existent, uncaused 
 Being. Finite creatures may arrange and dispose, 
 but they cannot create — they cannot give life. 
 It is an universal law, through all natm'e, that 
 like produces like. The same laws most probably 
 obtain through the whole system with which we 
 are connected. We have, therefore, no reason to 
 suppose that angels created man. Neitlier can 
 we, without the greatest absui'dity, admit that he 
 was formed by himself, or by mere accident. If 
 in the latter way, why do we never see men fonned 
 so in the present day ? Why do we never see the 
 
 N
 
 178 THE EXISTENCE OF GOD. 
 
 clods of earth brightening into human flesh, and 
 the dust under our feet crawling into animated 
 forms, and starting up into life and intelligence ? 
 If we even admit that either of the fore- 
 mentioned causes might have produced man, 
 yet neither of them could have preserved 
 him in existence one moment. There must, 
 therefore, be a God uncaused, independent and 
 complete. The nobler part of man clearly evinces 
 this great truth. When we consider the bound- 
 less desires, and the inconceivable activity of the 
 soul of man, we can refer his origin to nothing 
 but God. How astonishing are the reasoning 
 faculties of man ! How surprising the power of 
 comparing, arranging, and connecting his ideas ! 
 How wonderful is the power of imagination ! On 
 its wings, in a moment, we can transjsort our- 
 selves to the most distant part of the universe. 
 We can fly back, and live the lives of all antiquity, 
 or surmount the limits of time, and sail along 
 the vast range of eternity. Whence these aston- 
 ishing faculties, if not from a God of infinite 
 wisdom, goodness, and power ? 
 
 II. — " The invisible things of Him from the
 
 THE EXISTENCE OF GOD. 179- 
 
 creation of the world," says the text, " are clearly 
 seen." Let us for a moment behold our earth. 
 With what a delightful scene are we here pre- 
 sented ! The diversification of its surface into 
 land and water, islands and lakes, springs and 
 rivers, hills and vallies, mountains and plains, 
 renders it to man doubly enchanting. We are 
 entertained with an agreeable variety, without 
 being disgusted by a tedious uniformity. Every 
 thing appears admirably formed for om' profit 
 and delight. There the vallies are clothed in 
 smiling green, and the plains are bending with 
 com. Here is the gentle hill to delight the eye, 
 and beyond, slow rising from the earth, swells 
 the huge mountain, and, with all its load of 
 watei-s, rocks, and woods, heaves itself up into 
 the skies. Why this pleasing, infinite variety of 
 nature ? Undoubtedly for the benefit of man. 
 From the mountains descend streams to fertilize 
 the plains below, and cover them with wealth 
 and beauty. The earth not only produces every 
 thing necessary to support our bodies, but to 
 remedy our diseases, and gratify our senses. Who 
 covered the earth with such a pleasing variety 
 of fruits and flowers? Who gave them their 
 
 N 2
 
 180 THE EXISTENCE OF GOD. 
 
 delightful fragrance, and painted them with such 
 exquisite colors? Who causes the same water 
 to whiten in the lily, that blushes in the rose ? 
 Do not these things indicate a Cause infinitely 
 superior to any finite being ? Do they not directly 
 lead us to believe the existence of God, to admire 
 his goodness, to revere his power, to adore his 
 wisdom, in so happily accommodating our ex- 
 ternal circumstances to our situation and internal 
 constitution ? 
 
 III. — But how are we astonished to behold the 
 vast ocean, rolling its immense burden of waters 1 
 Who gave it such a configuration of particles, as 
 to render it moveable by the least pressure, and, 
 at the same time, so strong as to support the 
 heaviest weights ? Who spread out this vast 
 highway of all the nations under heaven ? Who 
 gave it its regular motion ? Who confined it 
 within its bounds ? A little more motion would 
 disorder the whole world ! A small incitement 
 on the tide would drown whole kingdoms. Who 
 restrains the proud waves, when the tempest lifts 
 them to the clouds ? Who measured the great 
 waters, and subjected them to invariable laws ?
 
 THE EXISTENCE OF GOD. l8l 
 
 That gi-eat Being, " 'who placed the sand for the 
 bound thereof by a perpetual decree that it can- 
 not pass ; and though the waves thereof toss 
 themselves, yet can they not prevail; though they 
 roar, yet can they not pass over." With reason 
 may we believe, that from the things that are 
 made, are clearly seen eternal power and wisdom. 
 
 IV. — Passing by the numerous productions 
 and appendages of the earth, let us rise from it, 
 and consider the body of air with which we are 
 surrounded. What a convincing proof do we here 
 find of the existence of God ? Such is the subtility 
 and transparency of the air, that it receives the 
 rays of the sun and stars, conveying them with 
 inconceivable velocity to objects on the earth, 
 rendering them visible, and decorating the whole 
 surface of the globe with an agreeable intermixture 
 of light, shade, and colors. But still this air has 
 a sufficient consistency and strength to support 
 clouds, and all the winged inhabitants. Had it 
 been less subtile, it would have intercepted the 
 light. Had it been more rarified, it would not 
 have supported its inhabitants, nor have aflForded 
 sufficient moisture for the purposes of respimtion.
 
 182 THE EXISTENCE OF GOD. 
 
 What then but infinite wisdom could have tem- 
 pered the air so nicely, as to give it sufficient 
 strength to support clouds for rain, to aiFord wind 
 for health, and, at the same time, to possess the 
 power of conveying sound and light ? How 
 wonderful is this element ! How clearly does it 
 discover infinite wisdom, power, and goodness ! 
 
 V. — But when we cast our eyes up to the fir- 
 mament of heaven, we clearly see that it declares 
 God's handy work. Here the immense theatre 
 of God's works opens upon us, and discloses ten 
 thousand magnificent, splendid objects. We 
 dwindle to nothing in comparison of this august 
 scene of beauty, majesty, and glory. Who reared 
 this vast arch over our heads ? Who adorned it 
 with so many shining objects, placed at such im- 
 mense distances from each other, regular in their 
 motions, invariably observing the laws to which 
 they were originally subjected ? Who jilaced the 
 sun at such a convenient distance as not to annoy, 
 but refresh us ? Who, for so many ages, has 
 caused him to rise and set at fixed times ? Whose 
 hand directs, and whose power restrains him in 
 his course, causing him to produce the agreeable
 
 THE EXISTENCE OF GOD. 183 
 
 changes of day and night, as well as the variety 
 of seasons ? The order, hai'mony, and regularity 
 in the revolutions of the heavenly bodies, are 
 such incontestible proofs of the existence of God, 
 that an eminent poet well said, " an undevout 
 astronomer is mad." In the time of Cicero, when 
 the knowledge of astronomy was very imperfect, 
 lie did not hesitate to declare, that, in his opinion, 
 the man who asserted tlie heavenly bodies were 
 not framed and moved by a divine understanding, 
 was himself void of all understanding. Well 
 indeed is it said, that the heavens declare the 
 glory of God. 
 
 This great Being is everyAvhere present. He 
 exists all around us. He is not, as we are apt to 
 imagine, at a great distance. Wherever we turn, 
 his image meets our view. We see him in the 
 earth, in the ocean, in the air, in the sun, moon, 
 and stars. We feel him in ourselves. He is 
 always working round us ; he performs the greatest 
 operations, produces the noblest effects, discovers 
 himself in a thousand different ways, and yet the 
 real GOD remains unseen. All parts of creation 
 are equally under his inspection. Though he
 
 184 THE EXISTENCE OF GOD. 
 
 warms the breast of the highest angel in heaven, 
 yet he breathes life into the meanest insect on 
 earth. He lives through all his works, supj)ort- 
 ing all by the word of his power. He shines in 
 the verdure that clothes the plains, in the lily 
 that delights the vale, and in the forest that 
 waves on the mountain. He supports the slender 
 reed that trembles in the breeze, and the sturdy 
 oak that defies the tempest. His presence cheers 
 the inanimate creation. Far in the wilderness, 
 where human eye never saw, where the savage 
 foot never trod, there he bids the blooming forest 
 smile, and the blushing rose open its leaves to 
 the morning sun. There he causes the feathered 
 inhabitants to whistle their wild notes to the 
 listening trees and echoing mountains. There 
 nature lives in all her wanton wildness. There 
 the ravished eye, hurrying from scene to scene, is 
 lost in one vast blush of beauty. From the dark 
 stream, that rolls through the forest, the silver- 
 scaled fish leap up, and dumbly mean the praise 
 of God. Though man remains silent, yet God 
 will have praise. He regards, observes, upholds, 
 connects, and equals all. 
 
 The belief of his existence is not a point of
 
 THE EXISTENCE OF GOD. 185 
 
 mere speculation and amusement. It is of incon- 
 ceivable importance to our present, as well as 
 future felicity. But while we believe there is a 
 God, we should be extremely careful to ascertain, 
 with as much acciuracy as possible, what is his 
 real nature. The most prominent features of 
 this are exhibited in that incomprehensible dis- 
 play of wisdom, power, and goodness, made in 
 the works of creation. A virtuous man stands in 
 a relation to God which is peculiarly delightful. 
 The divine perfections are all engaged in his 
 defence. He feels powerful in God's power, wise 
 in his wisdom, good in his goodness. The vicious 
 man, on the contrary, stands in a relation to God 
 which is of all things the most dreadful. He is 
 unwilling to know that God has sufficient wisdom 
 to search out all his wickedness, sufficient good- 
 ness to the universe to determine to punish that 
 wickedness, and sufficient power to execute that 
 determination. A firm belief in the existence of 
 God will heighten all the enjoyments of life, and 
 by conforming our hearts to his will, will secure 
 the approbation of a good conscience, and inspire 
 us with the hopes of a blessed immortality. 
 Never be tempted to disbelieve the existence
 
 186 THE EXISTENCE OF GOD. 
 
 of God, when every thing around you proclaims 
 it in a language too plain not to be understood. 
 Never cast your eyes on creation without having 
 your souls expanded with this sentiment, " There 
 is a God." When you survey this globe of earth, 
 with all its apj)eudages — when you behold it in- 
 habited by numberless ranks of creatures, all 
 moving in their proper spheres, all verging to 
 their proper ends, all animated by the same great 
 source of life, all supported at the same great 
 bounteous table — when you behold, not only 
 the earth, but the ocean and the air, swarm- 
 ing with living creatures, all happy in their 
 situation — when you behold yonder sun, dart- 
 ing a vast blaze of glory over the heavens, 
 garnishing mighty worlds, and waking ten thou- 
 sand songs of j^raise — when you behold unnum- 
 bered systems diffused through vast immensity, 
 clothed in splendor, and rolling in majesty — 
 when you behold these things, your affections 
 will rise above all the vanities of time, your full 
 souls will struggle with ecstacy, and your reason, 
 passions, and feelings, all united, will rush up to 
 the skies, with a devout acknowledgment of the 
 existence, power, wisdom, and goodness of God.
 
 THE EXISTENCE OF GOD. 187 
 
 Let US behold him, let us wonder, let us praise 
 and adore. These things will make us happy. 
 They will wean us from vice, and attach us to 
 vu-tue. As a belief of the existence of God is a 
 fundamental jsoint of salvation, he who denies it 
 runs the greatest conceivable hazard. He resigns 
 the satisfaction of a good conscience, quits the 
 hopes of a happy immortality, and exposes him- 
 self to destiiiction. All this for what ? — ^for the 
 short-lived pleasures of a riotous, dissolute life. 
 How wretched, when he finds his atheistical 
 confidence totally disappointed. Instead of his 
 beloved sleep and insensibility, with which he so 
 fondly flattered himself, he will find himself still 
 existing after death, removed to a strange place; 
 he will then find that there is a God, who will 
 not suiFer his rational creatures to fall into anni- 
 hilation as a refuge from the just punishment of 
 their crimes ; he will find himself doomed to drag 
 on a wretched train of existence in unavailing 
 woe and lamentation. Alas ! how astonished 
 will he be to find himself plunged in the abyss 
 of ruin and desperation ! God forbid that any of 
 us should act so unwisely as to disbelieve, when 
 evei"y thing around us proclaims, his existence.
 
 W. BaUe, Printer, 56, High Street, Exeter. '^t Q 
 
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