JAMES CALT*C?][ Ex Libris C. K. OGDEN LECTURES DELIVERED AT BROADMEAD CHAPEL, BRISTQLr BY JOHN FOSTER, " If the language of sermons be vague and general; if it do not apply clearly and directly to our own times, our own ways of life, and habits of thought and action, men elude its hold upon their consciences with a wonderful dexterity." DR. ARNOLD. SECOND EDITION. LONDON : JACKSON AND WALFORD 18, ST. PAUL'S CHURCH YARD. M.DCCC.XLV. LONDON : 3. H ADDON, CASTLE STREET, FINSBURV. EDITOR'S PREFACE. As the Lectures contained in this volume were not prepared for the press by the Author, a brief statement explanatory of the degree in which they approach to completeness, and of the points on which editorial care has been chiefly needed, may not be improper. In the year 1822, Mr. Foster, in compli- ance with the earnest request of some intimate friends, commenced the delivery of the lectures from which the follow- ing are selected, once every fortnight (the months of July and August excepted), and continued them, though latterly at 2000168 IV EDITORS PREFACE. longer intervals, till the close of 1825. His auditory consisted of persons belonging to various religious communities in Bristol, most of whom had long known and appre- ciated his writings. With such a class of hearers, Mr. Foster felt himself warranted to take a wider range of subjects, and to adopt a more varied and elaborate style of illustration, than in addressing a pro- miscuous congregation. All the leading ideas of each discourse were committed to paper, with occasional hints for amplifica- tion, filling generally twelve or fourteen quarto pages. Though it is certainly to be regretted that the volume was not prepared for the press by Mr. Foster, yet the above statement will moderate this feeling, and serve to show that its contents are very far from being hasty sketches or meagre outlines. The editor would be sorry to raise unfounded expectations, but he has not used the EDITORS PREFACE. V term "notes/' or any similar one in the title, from the belief that it would be doing injustice to these invaluable memorials of his revered friend. What they might have been after being subjected to the Author's revision, he has in some measure been able to ascertain from comparing the original manuscript of a lecture on Heb. xi. 6, " He that corneth to God must believe that he is," &c., with the same as published by the Religious Tract Society under the title of " How to find access to God." Many para- graphs (indeed the bulk of them) are nearly identical, and the additional matter, chiefly by way of amplification, amounts to about one-fifth. The present volume has been printed from copies of the Lectures which have been carefully collated with the original manu- scripts. The Editor's chief attention has been directed to arranging the sentences in paragraphs, with the appropriate punctuation. EDITORS PREFACE. It has also been found necessary to supply here and there a word or two (often merely a connective particle) such as must in many instances have been used in the delivery, but omitted for brevity's sake in writing. Many pages, however, occur, without any additions of this kind ; in three of the lectures, the 6th, 7th, and 8th, they average at about five words in a page. It need scarcely be said that nothing in the shape of alteration or correction has been attempted. With respect to the arrangement, the order of time has generally been observed, and is indicated by the dates as far as they could be ascertained. J. E. RYLAND. Northampton, April 8th, 1844. CONTENTS. LECTURE I. THE NEW YEAR. Page- ECCLESIASTES vii. 8. Better is the end of a thing than the beginning 1 LECTURE II. THE SUPREME ATTACHMENT DUE TO SPIRITUAL OBJECTS. COLOSSIANS iii. 2. Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth 17 LECTURE III. THE SELF-DISCIPLINE SUITABLE TO CERTAIN MENTAL STATES. PROVERBS xxiii. 19. Be wise, and guide thine heart in the way 31 Vlll CONTENTS. LECTURE IV. THE RIGHT MODE OF GIVING AND RECEIVING REPROOF. Page. GALATIANS iv. 16. Am I therefore become your enemy, because I tell you the truth ? 48 LECTURE V. ON COMBINING WATCHFULNESS AND PRAYER. MATTHEW xxvi. 41. Watch and pray that ye enter not into temptation 65 LECTURE VI. CHARACTERISTICS OF VAIN THOUGHTS. JEREMIAH iv. 14. How long shall thy vain thoughts lodge within thee ? . . 78 LECTURE VII. CORRECTIVES OF VAIN THOUGHTS. JEREMIAH iv. 14. How long shall thy vain thoughts lodge within thee? .93 LECTURE VIII. SPIRITUAL FREEDOM PRODUCED BY KNOWLEDGE OF THE TBUTH. JOHN viii. 22. The truth shall make you free . .109 CONTENTS. IX LECTURE IX. ON FORMALITY AND REMISSNESS IN PRAYER. Pg. JOB xv. 4. Thou restrainest prayer before God . .124 LECTURE X. THE SPRING AND ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. PSALM civ. 30. Thou renewest the face of the earth . 140 LECTURE XI. THE DESTRUCTION OF SODOM AND GOMORRAH. GENESIS xviii. xix. And the Lord appeared unto him in the plains of Mamre : and he sat in the tent door in the heat of the day, &c 158 LECTURE XII. ON SOBER-MINDEDNESS. TITUS ii. 6. Young men likewise exhort to be sober-minded 177 LECTURE XIII. FALSE GROUNDS OF SUPERIORITY IN HOLINESS. ISAIAH Ixv. 5. Which say, Stand by thyself, come not near to me ; for I am holier than thou . . 202 LECTURE XIV. FALLACIES OPERATING AGAINST EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION. REVELATION iii. 15. I would thou wert cold or hot . . 223 X CONTENTS. LECTURE XV. EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION ENFORCED. Page. REVELATION iii. 1 5. I would thou wert cold or hot . 240 LECTURE XVI. THE USES AND PERVERSIONS OP CONSCIENCE. ROMANS ii. 14, 15. The gentiles having not the law, are a law unto themselves : which show the work of the law written in their hearts, their conscience also bearing witness, and their thoughts the meanwhile accusing or else excusing one another . . . 258 LECTURE XVII. THE AUTUMN, AND ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. ISAIAH Ixiv. 6. We all do fade as a leaf . . . 273 LECTURE XVIII. ELIJAH'S SACRIFICE. 1 KINGS xviii 293 LECTURE XIX. THE WINTER, AND ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. PSALM Ixxiv. 17. Thou hast made winter . . .310 CONTENTS. XI LECTURE XX. THE END OF THE YEAR. Page PSALM xc. 9. We spend our years as a tale that is told . 325 LECTURE XXI. ON NEGRO SLAVERY. LAMENTATIONS iii. 5. To turn aside the right of a man before the face of the Most High, the Lord approveth not 340 LECTURE XXII. THE COMPREHENSIVENESS OF THE DIVINE LAW. PSALM cxix. 96. Thy commandment is exceeding broad 360 LECTURE XXIII. THE NECESSITY AND RIGHT METHOD OF SELF-EXAMINATION. 2 CORINTHIANS xiii. 5. Examine yourselves whether ye be in the faith ; prove your own selves. Know ye not your own selves, how that Jesus Christ is in you, except ye be reprobates? 374 LECTURE XXIV. CHRIST, THOUGH INVISIBLE, THE OBJECT OF DEVOUT AFFECTION. 1 PETER i. 8. Whom having not seen ye love; in whom, though now ye see him not, yet believing ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory .... 390 Xll CONTENTS. LECTURE XXV. NOAH AND THE DELUGE. Page HEBREWS xi. 7. By faith Noah, being warned of God of things not seen as yet, moved with fear, prepared an ark to the saving of his house; by the which he condemned the world, and became heir of the righteousness which is by faith 407 LECTURE XXVI. OUR IGNORANCE OF OUR FUTURE MODE OF EXISTENCE. 1 JOHN iii. 2. It doth not yet appear what we shall be . 426 LECTURE XXVII. THE CHRISTIAN IDEA OF THE PERFECTIBILITY OF MAN. 1 CORINTHIANS xiii. 10. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away . 445 LECTURES. LECTUKE I. THE NEW YEAR. ECCLESIASTES vii. 8. Better is the end of a thing than the beginning. LEST this should seem rather a strange sen- tence to be taken as the foundation of a re- ligious discourse, it may be proper to say at once, that the intended application of it is to the particular season to which the course of na- ture and the care of divine providence have brought us, THE BEGINNING OF ANOTHER YEAR. At the same time, this sentence should be true of many things that might be specified; and it will, if those things succeed well. For instance: (1.) any train of serious thoughts and exercises in the mind, having a reference to B THE NEW YEAR. practical good, and beginning on one suggestion, one conviction, but at last attaining the ulti- mate effect or result ; . . . . (2.) a course of in- quiry concerning any important truth; the beginning is ignorance, doubt, anxiety, dread of the labour, misty and dubious twilight, and day-break; but the end, knowledge, certainty, satisfaction; . . . (3) any practical undertaking for social good, as the present one ; . . . . (4) a Christian profession; examples of the contrary are justly accounted among the most melan- choly sights on earth; .... (5) life itself; in the beginning are the charms of infancy; but the end may be far better ; (as in the case of a withered, trembling, sinking old man, whose soul is ripe for eternity ;) and it should be so, and must be so, or life is an awful calamity ! The text expresses the general principle or doctrine, that by the condition of our existence here, if things go right, a conclusion is better than a beginning. It is in the condition of our existence in this world, that this principle is founded. That condition is, that every thing is passing on toward something else in order to, and for the sake of that something further on ; so that its chief importance or value is in that something to be attained further on. Childhood THE NEW YEAR. is regarded in relation to manhood ; in that view its importance is estimated. But in the view of true wisdom, this more advanced stage itself is considered in reference to a final maturity for another state. So in all our progressive schemes, measures, exercises, pursuits where is the main point of the interest ? In something be- yond them. Thus what we are, what we have, or effect, or attain, is still relative to something further on. And if that ulterior object be at- tained, and be worth all this preceding course of things, then, " the end is better than the be- ginning." This is the doctrine of the text ; " the end," when it is the accomplishment of the desirable purpose, " is better than the be- ginning." The fruit is better than the blossom : the reaping is better than the sowing; the enjoyment than the reaping : the second stage of a journey to the happy home is better than the first ; the home itself than all : the vic- tory is better than the march and the battle : the reward is better than the course of service : the ending in the highest improvement of means is better than being put at first in pos- session of them. In all this we see it is con- ditionally, and not absolutely, that " the end is better than the beginning." B2 4 THE NEW YEAR. To come now to our intended subject, THE NEW YEAR. We have to consider it on the supposition of our living through it. And it is most exceedingly desirable that in the noblest sense, " the end" should be " better than the beginning." We may previously suggest, that in some respects, independently of our will, the end may be worse than the beginning, and in all probability will be so with some of us. It may be, that before the end of the year, the Sovereign Disposer will have withdrawn or diminished some of our means and advantages for turning it to account; that some of our associates and helpers will be taken away ; that our health and vigour will be diminished. As to those who are feeling the infirmities of declining life, it may be accounted certain that a year will sensibly increase these evils. If, notwithstanding anything that shall be thus ex- perienced, it shall nevertheless be true at the end of the year that " better is the end of a thing than the beginning," it will be a delight- ful thing. Now let us consider in a short series of plain particulars, what state of the case would au- thorise us at the end of the year to pronounce this sentence upon it. THE NEW YEAR. 5 And in the first place, it will easily occur as a general rule of judgment on the matter, that the sentence may be pronounced if, at the end of the year, we shall be able, after deliberate conscientious reflection, to affirm that the year has been in the most important respects, better than the preceding. It is possible to a reflec- tive spirit to recall several preceding years, (as the countenances of several departed acquain- tance,) to compare and estimate them one with another. This has sometimes been one of the serious employments of thought of persons sen- sible of their approaching end, to see how the evil or the good influences have acted on them ; where has been the most cause for self-abase- ment, and where for gratitude. -And well may we take the rules by which they have judged, while we review and compare, for instance, the last two years of our life. We can make some judgment of these last two in comparison, and what is the sentence ? Is it ? " The latter has been more of what in my best moments I have wished." " It has not left me where I was be- fore." " Through the divine grace I do stand on a somewhat different ground towards my God and my fellow-mortals." " My conscience and I are somewhat more at peace." " It is THE NEW YEAR. not quite so painful a review." " I can de- plore that the former was not like the latter." " A devout friend solicitous for my welfare, who died in the former year, would have left me with more complacency in the latter. I have almost ventured to hope that that affec- tionate saint might in heaven itself be apprized of my improvement." Let us not shrink from so salutary an exercise of review and compari- son. Now, if at the end of the year, on repeat- ing such an exercise we shall be able to pro- nounce such a judgment, then " Better is the end of a thing than the beginning." And this leads to another observation. The sentence will be true if, during the progress of the year, we shall effectually avail ourselves of the lessons suggested by a review of the pre- ceding year. What those lessons are, is the concern of each one's conscience in the sight of God. If there be persons to whom the lessons so derived are little more than simply this, " JUST PERSEVERE ! " how happy ! But to most of us there will be more accusing and painful ones; the purport of them may be, "REFORM!" If the solemn reflections which arose at the end of former years, have not had their due weight during the last, what an em- THE NEW YEAR. phatic lesson they become now ! gathering aggravation through all the last year! And now at the end of it, and in the review, are there decided censures of the judgment, enforc- ed by strong remonstrances of conscience ? Is there something which we should dread to think should remain just the same for another year? which we should have deemed a most happy thing had it been altered by the end of last year ? and which has troubled the soul with deep disquietude ? Has an important interest been trifled with ? an urgent duty still delayed and delayed ? and consequently, a state of mind far from happy as towards God: so that the close of the past year has left us with admoni- tions pointed and aggravated by reproach? Who then would not exclaim, " Let it not be thus at the end of another year!" Now we repeat, if these reflections and admonitions shall have their proper effect in the ensuing year, "Better" will be "the end of a thing than the beginning." May a gracious God grant that it may be so ! that lessons given us at such a cost may not be unavailing ; - the cost of so much peace and happiness withheld, to tell us how it cannot be enjoyed ! the cost of so much time, and means, and knowledge, and mercy lost to 8 THE NEW YEAR. enforce upon us a sense of the guilt of losing them ! Amidst such reflections on the past year, the first thing to be desired is, the pardon- ing mercy of God through Christ. But surely not less desirable is it, that every admonition, every instructive lesson, enforced upon us by reflection on the past year, should go into prac- tical effect during this we have entered on. At the close of this year, should life be pro- tracted so far, the text will be applicable, if we can then say, " My lessons from reflection on the departed year are much less painful, and much more cheering than at the close of the former ; " if we can say this without any delu- sion from insensibility, for the painfulness of reflection may lessen from a wrong cause ; but to say it with an enlightened conscience to witness, how delightful ! To be then able to recall each particular, and to dwell on it a few moments, "that was, before, a very painful consideration now, . . . . " " This, again, made me sad, and justly so now, ....!" "What shall I render to God for the mercy of his granting my prayer for all-sufficient aid? I will render to him, by his help, a still better year next." And let us observe, as the chief test of the THE NEW YEAR. 9 true application of the text, that it will be a true sentence, if then we shall have good evi- dence that we are become really more devoted to God. We, and our life, are for HIM, or all is utterly cast away ! In detachment from Him, think how all is reduced to vanity and wretch- edness! The sense of this has often inflicted anguish on a reflective spirit sensible of a sad deficiency of this devotedness. "Here am I, with faculties, and an infinite longing to be happy. Why am I not ? I have an oppressive sense of evil, from which there is no escape. I have intense dissatisfaction in myself and all things. Oh ! it would not be so if I ' dwelt in God, and God in me.' My life, my time, each year, spite of all I do and enjoy, seem a gloomy scene of emptiness and vanity. It would not be felt so, if it were for God that I lived ; if my affections, my activities, my years, my months, were devoted to HIM." My friends, without this, no year is good, in its progress or its end. A high degree of this would have made our former years end nobly ; would have made the last do so. It is little more than putting the same thing in more general terms to say the end will be better than the beginning, if we shall by then 10 THE NEW YEAR. have practically learnt to live more strictly and earnestly for the greatest purposes of life. If we can say of it, " It has been more redeemed from trifling and inferior uses. It has been more employed to purposes which always pre- sent their claims to me the more conspicuously the more seriously and religiously I think more to the purposes of which I am the most secure against all repentance the purposes which I can the most perfectly feel place me in a right element, and concerning which I can the most confidently look to God for both approbation and assistance." To this may be added, that if we shall have acquired a more effectual sense of the worth of time, the sentence, " Better is the end of a thing than the beginning," will be true. Being intent on the noblest purposes of life, will itself in a great degree, create this " effectual sense." But there may require, too, a special thought of time itself a habit of noting it because it is so transient, silent, and invisible a thing. There may be a want of faith to " see this in- visible," and of a sense of its flight. For want of this, and the sense too of its vast worth, what quantities reflection may tell us we have wasted in past years in the last year ! And, THE NEW YEAR. 11 at the very times when we were heedlessly letting it pass by, throwing it away, there were, here and there, men passionately imploring a day an hour a few moments more. And at those same seasons some men, here and there, were most diligently and earnestly redeeming and improving the very moments we lost ! the identical moments, for we had the same, and of the same length and value. Some of them are, in heaven itself, now enjoying the conse- quences. Where do we promise ourselves the consequences of those portions of time lost? The reflection on our waste and losses, in the past year, from our little allotment of this most precious material, should powerfully come in, &c. The rule of its value is, the consideration of what might be done in it. Think of its separate portions in this light. How important to have a powerful habitual impression of all this ! And if, this year, we shall acquire much more of this strong habitual sense, if we be- come more covetous of time, if we cannot \\u-4e it without much greater pain, if we shall, therefore, lose and misspend much less, then the text is true. It will be again true, if, with regard to fellow-mortals, we can conscientiously feel that 12 THE NEW YEAR. we have been to them more what Christians ought than in the preceding year. They must be, in a measure, admitted into the judg- ment on the case, at least as evidence. There cannot be a very material improvement quite independently of their experience. It will therefore be happy to be able to call them to witness, at the term we are referring to, while a man shall say ; " I am become more solicitious to act toward you in the fear of God. I am become more conscientiously regardful of what is due to you, and set a higher importance on your welfare. I have exerted myself more for your good. On the whole, therefore, I stand more acquitted towards you than I have at the conclusion of any former season." Another point of superiority we should hope the end may have over the beginning of the year, is that of our being in a better state of preparation for all that is to follow. Is it not the case, sometimes, that certain things present- ed to our thoughts, as what may take place, excite a consciousness that we are not well pre- pared for them? What then? Should we be content carelessly to stand the hazard ? Or trust in the vain refuge of a hope that we may THE NEW YEAR. 13 never be so tried ? Stupid self-beguilement ! the folly of childhood, without its innocence. A mortal is to look with certainty for a number of things which will put his best preparation to the trial. Who was ever too well prepared for sudden emergencies of trial ? too well prepared for duty, temptation, or affliction? too well prepared for the last thing that is to be en- countered on earth? Now, did we close the last year quite as competently prepared as we would desire, for whatever may ensue? So that here at the beginning we can say, " Here now are a wisdom, a faith, a conscience, a vigi- lance, a fortitude, to venture boldly on." The answer, in most instances at least, would be, " No ; I wish I were far better disciplined for the great Master's service. I wish that I could say I am quite willing to leave, in perfect uncertainty, all events to him, being, I hope, by his grace, in a habit of mind fitted to meet them, whatever they may be ; but it is not yet so with me." Here, then, is a most important improvement to be aimed at during this year. Just once more. It will be a great advantage and advancement to end the year with, if we shall then have acquired more of a rational and Christian indifference to life itself. But indeed, 14 THE NEW YEAR. there is no distinction between " rational " and " Christian, " in this case. An earnest clinging to life is rational, except under the favour of Christianity, and there it is not. But notwith- standing this sovereign and only remedy for the fear of losing life, what an excessive attachment to it remains ! It were well that this were less, and that it lessened with the lessening of the object ; so that each year expended should have reduced the passion at least as much as it has diminished the object. Has this been so the past year ? " My property in life is now less by almost 400 days ; so much less to cultivate and reap from. If they were of value, the value of the remainder is less after they are withdrawn. As to temporal good, I have but learnt the more experimentally that that cannot make me happy. I have therefore less of a de- lusive hope on this ground, as to the future. The spiritual good of so much time expended, I regard as transferred to eternity ; so much, therefore, thrown into the scale of another life against this. And in addition, some of my valued friends are transferred thither also ; so that another scene has been growing rich by the losses of this. Besides, the remaining por- tion will probably be, in a natural sense, of a THE NEW YEAR. la much worse quality. Therefore, as the effect of all this, my attachment to this life is loosening, and the attraction of another is augmenting." Now, if it was desirable that we should be able to say this at the recent close of the last year, is it not still more desirable we should, at the close of the present? And then we shall be able to say, in addition, " 1 am glad the year is gone" Now it must be seen, by a considerate mind, that such as these are the conditions on which the sentence will be true, " Better is the end of a thing than the beginning." And how exceed- ingly desirable that such might be the case with us, if we close this year on earth! But this will not be by the mere passing of the time. It is important to consider that this state of things at the end cannot be expected unless it is realized in a due degree, in the successive parts. Are we beginning the year in such a spirit and plan? If there has been a melancholy failure in past years, how has it happened ? All this cannot be, without our maintaining an ha- bitual serious reference to the end of life itself. It cannot be, without an earnest religious disci- pline of our souls. It cannot be, without the 16 THE NEW YEAR. Divine Power working in us, and for us. And what shall impel us to desire and seek that blessed influence, if not such considerations as the preceding ? The concluding admonition is, that we may not in this world attain the end of the year. Hence the necessity (as noted above) that each small portion of life should close under the same circumstances ("Better," &c.) as the en- tire year. The sublime of the sentence will be in the case of those who, beginning this year on earth, will at the end of it be in heaven. January 3rd, 1822. LECTURE H. THE SUPREME ATTACHMENT DUE TO SPIRITUAL OBJECTS. COLOSSIANS iii. 2. . Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth. How momentous a charge is it that is im- posed in the injunction to dispose rightly of the affection of a human soul! A charge which we cannot at our choice take upon us, or decline, since we have the soul, and the charge is in- separable. Sometimes we may have looked at some affair of a merely worldly nature, with self-gratu- lation that we were not obliged to undertake it. "It involves so much skill such con- tinual attention, such hazard, such sad con- sequences in the event of failure ! happily the business is not mine." It were well that in such a case, the thought should occur, "but C 18 THE SUPREME ATTACHMENT there may be a business of mine ! Where have my affections been to-day ? Where are they at this hour ? Where have they been all my life ? Where will they be if I let them alone ?" Affection is the going out of the soul (so to speak) in sentiments of interest, complacency, and desire, toward objects within its view. Love to self, indeed, is always said to be the primary and strongest affection of our nature ; and truly. But, then, what is the manner of action of this self-love ? It is not that the affection stays enclosed, acting in and upon our very self. The affection then is the going out of the soul. Now how happy were it if the case were thus with us ; namely, that the affection of the soul might go out just at its own pleasure, and all be right and safe. This is supposing that a comprehensive, discriminating, and indeed, in- fallible perception, accompanied necessarily all the goings out of affection ; and also, that the moral taste (shall we call it) of the soul always strictly agreed with its intellectual discern- ment ; in short, that the soul possessed a grand moral instinct. The consequence would be, that all things affecting the soul, in the way of DUE TO SPIRITUAL OBJECTS, 19 attracting it, would affect it right. Nothing would attract it which ought not ; it would be in repulsion to all evil ; and those things which did attract, and justly might, would do so in the right degrees and proportion so far, and no further ; with so much force, and no more : and with an unlimited force that alone which is the supreme good. What a glorious condition this I And this must be the state of good men in a future world, else there would be tempta- tion, trial, hazard, and the possibility of falling. But what a dreadful contrast to all this is our present state ! As one great circumstance, our nature, composed of two kinds of being, places us in relation strict relation to two quite different economies. It is true, the com- bination the union of the two does, in many respects, make them, to a wonderful degree, feel and act as one; but still, it is no such union of the two kinds of being, as to combine perfectly into one harmonious interest the re- lations to the two economies. The man is not so one, his combined nature does not so act as one, as to reduce the two diverse classes of interests to one blended inseparable order, so that each movement of the soul with respect to either, should necessarily have due respect c 2 20 THE SUPREME ATTACHMENT to both. No no ! the relations stand distinct, separate, and in a very great degree, foreign to each other. Therefore, there is great difficulty and hazard as to the apportioning of the re- gards to these classes respectively ; great diffi- culty of maintaining such a state and exercise of the affections as should comprehend, in due order and proportion, both these great classes. Another obvious and most important circum- stance is, that by the one part of our nature, our relation to the one class of interests is im- mediate and sensible; while our other grand relation, being to things far less palpable to things spiritual, invisible, and as it were remote is to be apprehended only through the medium of serious thought and faith. This is a circumstance of formidable omen, even under the best supposable condition of our nature thus compounded and situated. Even in that case, there would seem to be required a special unremitted divine influence to preserve it right. How should there not be a constant mighty tendency to a wrong preponderance ! But this is not all. Our nature is immea- surably far from being in that " best supposable state." Our nature is sunk into such a state, that it has a most mighty and obstinate ten- DUE TO SPIRITUAL OBJECTS. 21 dency to give itself wholly to the inferior, temporal class of its interests. In one act of its affection, and in the next, and in a hundred successively, its preference will go to the in- ferior; and the effect of this tendency, un- counteracted, is to throw the supreme interests, and the soul itself, away. This is a fearful predicament ! One should imagine it could not be thought of without terror. One would imagine that the terror of it (if any reason or right feeling were left in man) would make the doctrine of divine, transforming, assisting grace, to be welcomed with enthusiasm. Ex- cept in reliance on this, we should hear with utter despair the injunction, " Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth." This remains the sovereign duty, the com- prehensive precept, to us sojourners on earth. Let us attend a few moments to the subject and application of this command : In the first place ; an indiscreet language may have sometimes been used by pious men and teachers, not maintaining exactly a due re- gard to the limitations on the latter part of the precept ; a language to the effect, almost of requiring an absolute entire indifference, or con- tempt, to all terrestrial things ; insomuch that 22 THE SUPREME ATTACHMENT the considerate reader, or hearer, has been say- ing within himself, "now that is strictly im- possible," or "absurd." According to this, there is an essential, insuperable inconsistency between our duty and the very condition in which God has placed us. Sometimes this language of excess has been, we may venture to say, a rather unthinking repetition of a kind of common-place ; but often it has had a better origin, such as the retired, contemplative, de- vout life of some good men. (The language of religion has had a particular advantage in this respect, when it has come from enlightened and pious men, who have had much to do in the world for example, Sir Matthew Hale.) Or it may have had its origin in short occasional seasons of peculiarly elevated feeling; or in the state of feeling produced in good men by affliction, calamity, and persecution. But it is disserviceable to religion thus to preach, as it were, an annihilation of our in- terests in this world. They have claims, and they will make them good in defiance, whether allowed or not. But these claims must be allowed. Think in how many ways we are made susceptible of pleasure and pain from " the things on the earth ;" and to what an DUE TO SPIRITUAL OBJECTS. 23 amount, in passing fifty, sixty, or seventy years upon it. Now we may surely believe, that fallen and as guilty as we are, our Creator does not will the pleasure denied, or the pain en- dured, more than is inevitable to our mortal condition, or disciplinary toward our future life. And therefore we may, in regulated measure, desire the pleasing, and be anxious to avoid the painful. But think how much interest, and attention, and care, are necessary to avoid the ills of this mortal life! How much concern and study must be applied directly to temporal things, in order that, on the whole, we may have the most benefit of our relations to this terrestrial scene. The particulars that might be specified will occur to every one. Health is deservedly an object of great interest and care. "Affec- tion" is inevitably and justly "set" on it and a person's near relatives in life and then, as a matter concerning both himself and them, his temporal condition, in the plainest sense of that epithet ; no small interest, that is to say, " affection" is necessarily " set" on competence (especially in times when this is very difficult and precarious). As we have referred to the " times," we may add, that a man that looks on 24 THE SUPREME ATTACHMENT the conduct of public affairs, by which his own and his family's and his fellow citizens' welfare are deeply affected, will necessarily feel very considerable interest in that direction. He must "set" some " affection" on what he is convinced would be the best, or at least a better state of things. Again, if he is a man of cultivated intellect and taste, then he cannot avoid being interested in the beauties and wonders of nature, the great works of human intellect and genius, or the discoveries of science. Now in such points it is seen how intimate is our rela- tion to this world. And in some proportion to the intimacy and the number of our relations to this world, will it inevitably be that " affec- tion" must be "set on things on the earth" But how striking and how sad it is here to consider, that the relations to this present world are the only ones practically recognized by the far greater number of mankind ! Think, if any religious instructor were to exhort them to such an utter disregard of their temporal interests as they actually indulge respecting their eternal ones, what madness would be charged ! A fortiori, then, is not theirs an awful madness ? Let us turn to the other view of the subject ; that is the higher class of our relations. By DUE TO SPIRITUAL OBJECTS. 25 the nobler part of our nature we are placed in the most solemn relations to another economy. And not to have a deep sense of this fact im- plies that something is enormously wrong. This immortal spirit was appointed but for a few years to this earth; but eternally to another state. And it is placed in relations comporting with its eternity of existence ; to God, the one infinite Being the one sole per- fect and independent Essence ; to the Re- deemer, the Lord, and the Life of the new economy ; to an unseen state ; to an order of exalted, holy, and happy beings in that state ; to a pure, exalted, and endless felicity in that state. And do I give, in conformity to one law of my nature, a great measure of my af- fection to the things to which I have a subordi- nate temporary relation, and refuse affection towards those to which I have an eternal rela- tion? How marvellous and how lamentable, that the soul can consent to stay in the dust when invited above the stars; having in its own experience the demonstration that this is not its world ; knowing that even if it were, the possession will soon cease ; and having a glorious revelation and a continual loud call from above ! 26 THE SUPREME ATTACHMENT But it is on the duty as considered not abso- lutely, but comparatively, of setting the affec- tion " above" that we should insist. What should be the comparative state of the affec- tions, as towards the one and the other ? And what can the answer be, but plainly and briefly, that there must be at the lowest account a de- cided preponderance in favour of spiritual and eternal things ? At the lowest state of the case, we repeat, for alas ! this is but little to say for the feeling towards things so contrasted, so im- mensely different in value ! This is the lowest ground on which a man can justly deem himself a Christian. For how is the great object of Christ at all accomplished in a man whose pre- ference is not gained to those things which Christ came to redeem men to ? And consider ! if no more than barely this is attained, how often this itself is likely to be put in doubt. On all accounts, therefore, how clearly it is a duty and an interest to aspire to every attain- able degree beyond a mere positive preponder- ance. We may even assert that this aspiration is an indispensable sign or symptom. And this may lead to the question, What may be safely taken as indications, or proofs, that there is the required preponderance ? Now DUE TO SPIRITUAL OBJECTS. 27 in most cases of comparison and preference, a man has no need to seek or think about the evidence of his preference; it is a matter of prompt and unequivocal consciousness. And if in any case in the universe, it should be so here ! How happy to have it thus ! But even with good men the case is not always such (far from it!) as to make a reference to tests and proofs unnecessary or useless. There is to be nothing mysterious in the matter and operation of these tests; nothing like the Urim and Thummim ; nothing like the ordeals ; it is an affair of plain, serious, faithful thought. For example, let a man take the occasion to examine, when he is very strongly interested by some one temporal object or concern, whether he can say, more than all this is the interest I feel in " the things that are above." When he is greatly pleased with some temporal pos- session, or success, or prospect, and his thoughts suddenly turn to the higher objects, is he then decidedly more pleased ? or does he feel a deep and earnest solicitude that this temporal good may not injure him in his higher interests? If he suffers or apprehends something very griev- ous as to his temporal interests, does he deli- berately feel that he would far rather suffer so 28 THE SUPREME ATTACHMENT than in his spiritual interests? Or again, in such a case, does he feel a strong overbalancing consolation from " things above ?" Is he more pleased to give the earnest application of his mind to the higher objects and interests than to any inferior ones? (As a man digging in the confidence he should find gold, would labour with more soul and spirit than one raising stones or planting trees.) Does he feel that, on the whole, he would do more, or sacrifice more, for the one than for the other ? While greatly interested in a temporal pursuit, does he habitu- ally charge it upon his soul, and actually en- deavour, that he do with still greater intenseness prosecute a higher object ? If he perceives that his pursuit of a temporal object is beginning to outrun (if we may so speak) his pursuit of the nobler, does he solemnly intermit, in order that this may not be the case? " How vigorously I am pursuing this But what is that which I am leaving behind ? If I leave that behind, it will stay 1 It will run no race with a worldly spirit. Let me instantly draw in !" Is he con- stantly, or very often, impelled to the divine throne to implore grace and strength that there may be a decided preponderance? the witness for him " above" that there is that proof at DUE TO SPIRITUAL OBJECTS. 29 least of his affections there? If, by the ad- vance of life, he is sensible that he is fast going out of the " things on the earth," does he rise above all regret at this, in the view of the sub- limer objects ? " Do you compassionate me be- cause I am growing old because I cannot stay long here ? You mistake ! Yonder is the scene to which I am animated in approaching." "VYe will only add, in his occupation and transac- tions with the " things on the earth," has he acquired the habit of imparting even to those concerns a principle and a reference still bear- ing toward the higher objects? Such questions as these would be the points for placing and keeping the subject in a state of trial and proof; would be an admonition, too, of the necessity of applying all the force in the higher direction. Xow, how happy to be in such a state of de- cided preference in the devotement of the affec- tions ! Happy ! considering that to those higher things we are in a constant, permanent relation; whereas our relation to the terrestrial is vary- ing and transient. (Reflect, how many tilings on the earth we have been in relation to, but are no longer, and shall be no more.) Happy ! because a right state of the affections toward the superior objects is the sole security for our 30 ATTACHMENT TO SPIRITUAL OBJECTS. having the greatest benefit of those on earth. For that which is the best in the inferior is ex- actly that which may contribute to the higher ; and that will never be found but by him who is intent on the higher. Happy ! because every step of the progress which we must make in leaving the one is an advance toward a blessed and eternal conjunction with the other. And then, finally (what we adverted to at the beginning), that circumstance of transcen- dent happiness, that in the superior state of good men there will be no contrary attractions, no diverse and opposed relations to put their choice and their souls in difficulty or peril ! January 28*A, 1822. LECTURE III. THE SELF-DISCIPLINE SUITABLE TO CERTAIN MENTAL STATES. PROTKRBS xxiii. 19. Be wise, and guide thine heart in the way. I WILL acknowledge not to have been able to fall upon a passage of scripture exactly to the point which I should hope it may be profit- able to direct our attention for a few moments. Though in effect, and in a general way, innu- merable passages inculcate the kind of lesson which we are wishing to enforce. The thing proposed may be stated in very few words. In our course through life, our minds are liable to be (they actually are in succession and change) placed in certain states of feeling, strongly marked, and for the time, strongly prevailing. And this by causes, by influences and circumstances, independent of 32 THE SELF-DISCIPLINE SUITABLE TO our will. We might call them moods; by many serious persons they are denominated frames. They are produced by facts and events that we witness or hear of; by views of the state of the world ; by particular sub- jects of thought, forcibly impressed on our minds; by circumstances in our own imme- diate condition ; by the state of our health ; by even the seasons of the year. And they form a state of feeling, distinguished by a stronger character, from the quiet, ordinary tone. Now the lesson we would wish to in- culcate is just this ; that these states of feeling, thus involuntarily produced, should be carefully turned to a profitable account ; that we should avail ourselves of what there is in them speci- fically adapted to afford improvement. It is hardly necessary to make the previous observation, that there are many strong feelings to which we are liable which we are not to talk of turning to account, they being absolutely evil, such as should be resisted, repressed, and crushed altogether. For instance, envy, ma- lice, revenge, a rebellious feeling against God ; such as these can be turned to no profita- ble account ; they not like some natural evils, which may, as poisons may, be made medicinal ; TO CERTAIN MENTAL STATES. 33 not so these moral and spiritual poisons; at least by man they cannot be turned to beneficial use ; doubtless they can by God, else, infinite power and goodness would not have permitted their existence in his creation. But the states of feeling to which we refer are such as are not essentially and necessarily evil. They may be called a kind of natural seasons in the soul; somewhat parallel to the seasons and the climates of the natural world ; only not having their regularity and fixed order. They have their evils, and may be suffered to become great evils ; but still are available to good, by a wise and religious care. In other terms, they may be described as elements, having in them what may be applied to the very best and most advantageous uses. These varied states of feeling are of the two great classes, the pleasing and the unpkasing ; the lat- ter being felt oftener and more sensibly. But we will begin with an illustration of the more pleasing order. You can easily represent to yourselves the example of a person quite in the sunshine of feeling ; a person perhaps con- stitutionally cheerful, in excellent health, in the prime of life, and a great number of cir- cumstances around him very much according to D 34 THE SELF-DISCIPLINE SUITABLE his wishes. And in addition to all this, there may be, at some particular season, some more than ordinary cause to animate the pleasurable state of his mind ; some bright smiles of what we call " good fortune," beaming out upon him ; some important matter that was depending, decided in his favour ; some new delightful confidence or acquisition, in regard to the in- terests of friendship and affection ; some gra- tifying circumstance in the affairs of his family. Now you have the image before you of the person in this high exhilaration ; his soul over- running with delight, his countenance lighted up with animation ! But, do you gravely consider the case ? How will it be with him, what will be the benefit of all this, if he do not exercise reflection ? if he do not "guide his heart?" It is far too probable that all this will mightily tend and lead to direct evil; to forgetfulness of God, to un- bounded love of the world, to banishment of all thought of death and hereafter ; perhaps to levity, frivolity, and revelling in amusement and luxury. But at the very best it will be this ; namely, he will just indulge himself in the fulness of his satisfaction. He will have no use of his delight TO CERTAIN MENTAL STATES. 35 but to enjoy it, to devour it. And all he will think will be, " To-morrow shall be as this day, and much more abundant." Now, what would you wish to say to him ? " Can you be content to have no good but this, of all this animation, and glow, and expansion of heart? Just to give yourself up to be delighted, to bound and dance in thoughtless felicity, like an animal of the spring, or an in- sect of the sunshine ? You are suffering to con- sume away, in mere useless sparkle and blaze, a precious element of mind, which might, while it burns, be applied to some noble purposes." Here is the lesson which we are desiring to inculcate ; that is, the consideration of the valu- able uses to which a bright season of the soul should be employed It should not, by the way, be forgotten, that one point of wisdom in such a case, may be, somewhat to repress and sober an exhilaration of the heart. There might be such an intoxication of joyous sentiment as should be fit for nothing but wild mirth. But in truth, it will seldom be long before there shall be something or other to damp this, even without seeking it. And the consideration that the fine pleasurable season of the spirits may not last long, but is liable to become chilled and D 2 36 THE SELF-DISCIPLINE SUITABLE overcast, should be a strong admonition for losing no time in turning it to the best account. And to what account might we suppose a wise man to turn it ? In the first place, it would surely be a wise application of this pleasurable state of feeling, to seek most seriously, that some of it may be directed into the channel of gratitude to God. Consider ! " Why am I not, at this hour, over- whelmed with distress, instead of these feelings of delight ? I deserve to be so, and many of my fellow-mortals are so, who probably deserve it less. Is it not because God is exceedingly good to me ? To constitute this state which I am now enjoying, how many cares and gifts of that beneficent Father, how many collective rays of mercy from that open heaven ! And does my heart absorb all, and reflect nothing ? All this that tells me of the Supreme Benefactor, does it really but make me, or prove me, an Atheist ? In what manner by what means am I expecting ever to be reminded of God ever to be drawn toward him, if his goodness has no such effect ? If my heart has absolutely no will to send upward any of its gratifying emotions, as incense to him, what must be its condition? Is not this a reflection calculated TO CERTAIN MENTAL STATES. 37 instantly to chill all this delight ? If, in these pleasurable emotions, there is nothing of a na- ture that admits of being sent up in grateful devotion, what estimate should I form of my * pleasure, my happiness ? Content ! delighted ! with a happiness which by its very nature estranges me from God !" From which we may observe, that it will be a wise and valuable use of any season of unusual gladness, to watch narrowly the effect which earthly felicity has upon our minds, in order that the happy, the self-complacent man may see what kind of nature he has to be acted upon ; a sad nature, truly, if he sees the fact to be, that the more its wishes are gratified the worse it becomes, if left to itself! Thus should we watch in order to see the practical proof of the manner in which earthly delight acts on the heart, unless combined with a sanctifying religion. There may have been a great deal of un- thinking declamation about the dangers of pros- perity, the perverting guile of earthly pleasure, and topics of this kind. And how often have the gay, the young, the prosperous smiled con- temptuously at such discourse ! But let us admonish them, that they have no business to 38 THE SELF-DISCIPLINE SUITABLE deride declamation who will not attend to proof; and when that proof is in their own souls, at their own most serious cost! A man that shall in a right manner make the kind of obser- vation we are describing, will certainly not desire to have distress and pain instead of his gladness and gratification but he will be alarmed into earnestness and prayer that God may never let him fancy himself happy, inde- pendently of the divine sources of felicity. But for fear of being tedious, we might pertinently have applied the admonition to this lively, delighted state of the spirits as owing to certain particular causes or occasions; as for instance, the recovery of health, from great suffering and peril, or protracted languishing. This is generally a season of extremely plea- surable feeling; but often suffered to be mere pleasure, tending to no use ; the mere joy of having escaped ; the gladness of a prisoner got loose, before he is sober enough to think what he shall do with his liberty. But to what pur- pose, then, has the man been disciplined by suffering, and then rescued by a merciful hand ? He should be anxious to "guide his heart" to those purposes to which affliction should have taught him. In this animation of feeling he TO CERTAIN MENTAL STATES. 39 has, in a sense, a double life, that which was lost to him during illness being virtually restored to him by this extra animation. We might have specified that delighted state of feeling that fine climate or weather of the soul which some persons experience from the beautiful seasons and scenes of nature. Amidst such feelings the thought should never be long absent ; " How can I, as a wise man and a Christian, take the best advantage of this awakening of my sensibility?" No man ever seems to have felt more of this influence than the poetic and inspired Hebrew ; and no reader of the Psalms needs to be informed to what use he directed these feelings. We shall not specify any more of the par- ticular modes and occasions of these bright and warm states of feeling. But considering them generally, we cannot too strongly urge the duty which accompanies them. They should be regarded as cultivators regard the impor- tant weeks of the spring ; as mariners regard the blowing of favourable winds; as mer- chants seize a transient and valuable oppor- tunity for gain; as men overlaboured, and almost overmatched in warfare, regard a strong reinforcement of fresh combatants. The spring 40 THE SELF-DISCIPLINE SUITABLE and energy of spirit felt in these pleasurable seasons of the heart, should be applied to the use of a more spirited performance of the Christian duties in general, but especially to those which are the most congenial: such as the exercises and services most directly expres- sive of gratitude to God ; the study and exer- tions for promoting the happiness of men. It is more than time to turn to a darker side of our subject. We cannot have been dream- ing that these seasons of pleasure are prevailing through the general experience of our race ; or with frequency or long duration in the ex- perience of almost any one. The Christian admonisher to "guide the heart? will find the occasions but few for exhorting men to turn their joy to a wise account, compared with the cases of a far different kind. It were indeed a gloomy calculation, if it could be made, what proportion of time is passed by mankind col- lectively in a state of feeling decidedly infelici- tous, as compared with their experience of animated pleasure. But a still far worse view of the case is this ; namely, how small a portion of their painful feeling turns to any good ac- count. We do not mean to take a condition of TO CERTAIN MENTAL STATES. 41 severe and overwhelming distress as the subject of the present admonition. Greatly short of this, there are occasional states of darkened, gloomy feeling, continuing for a while, in which sensibility becomes pensiveness, and gravity sadness ; in which there is a strong tendency, for the time, to serious ideas and musings of the more melancholy class. It is as if an accustomed barrier had been thrown down on one side of the mind, to admit an in- vasion of austere thoughts, and unwelcome and threatening images. The immediate cause may have been some untoward turn of events ; some painful disappointment ; or the death of relatives or friends ; and constitutional tendency or defective health may contribute. Xow, this infelicitous season of the soul shall it not be turned, by wisely " guiding the heart," to lasting advantage ? And how may it be so? In many instances all this possible benefit is refused and lost. It is a bad sign when we see a person in this state of feeling just merely anxious and endeavouring to escape from it ; when there is a horror of solitude ; a recourse to any thing that will help to banish reflection; such as change of place; making excursions ; contriving visits and parties ; 42 THE SELF-DISCIPLINE SUITABLE endeavouring to force the spirits up to the pitch of lively society : even trying amuse- ments, when really little in the mood for amuse- ment. This is a wretched and self-defrauding management. Certainly, the censure must have some terms of qualification. It is to be acknowledged that, in some cases, a gloomy state of the mind is very directly caused by a disordered or debilitated condition of the body. And when we speak, too, of a constitutional melancholy temperament in some persons, we are but ex- pressing, probably, some mysterious sympathy of the mind with its corporeal tenement. Now, in cases decidedly of this kind, expedients of alleviation will, to a certain extent, be very properly sought in movement change of scene or communication with more cheerful spirits. But, for the far greater number of persons experiencing these occasional graver, darker seasons of the mind, there is no such concession to be made. This state of mind should be re- garded not as a kind of disorder to be relieved and escaped, but as a visitation to be improved. One might address such a person thus : " Now, it is too probable that, during your past life, there has been far too little of the TO CERTAIN MENTAL STATES. 43 voluntary exercise of grave, deep thought, of choosing serious and solemn subjects of reflec- tion, and with an appropriate temper of feel- ing ; that is to say, what a gay spirit would deem a gloomy feeling, and what you may have averted or evaded as such. Now that causes independent of your will have placed you, as it were, in the very element for such thought and feeling, let not your chief aim and effort be to escape from it ! You had not seriousness enough to go into a solemn temple ; but now that a hand not to be resisted has led you into it, is your sole attention to be fixed on the door ! while the oracles of God are inscribed there ! the images of the dead are standing there ! visions of futurity are disclosed there ! Now that light thoughts, and brisk spirits, and worldly pleasures and hopes, are aloof for a while, do take the opportunity for serious con- sideration. Reflect ! are there no great and solemn questions hitherto, most unwisely, left undecided ? when will you be willing to bring them to a decision ? is it to be when you shall have recovered the easy or gay tone of feeling which ahvays averts you from such subjects? Have you yet come to a determinate judgment on the state of your mind, in reference to its 44 THE SELF-DISCIPLINE SUITABLE greatest interests? If not, is a season of un- usually grave feeling, of all times the wrong one for such a purpose ? Have you yet come to a full consent of the soul to take death and eternity into the system of your interests ; into an intimate combination with all that you are wishing, projecting, and pursuing ? If scarcely so, when is this grand point to be effected ? Will these solemn objects come to your view with more gracious aspects ; will they be welcomed nearer to you, when you shall have again become more satisfied or delighted with the gratifications of this life ? Shall you call them to meet you in the flowery garden of pleasure ? in your circles of gaiety ? among your treasures of acquired gain ? Reflect ! have you yet come absolutely to meet God, in your capacity of a sinner condemned, and to be pardoned and saved ? And have you come really and effectually to a believing and grate- ful reception of the offered redemption by Jesus Christ? if there be any thing dubious as to this great matter, are you impatient to hasten away into a state of feeling in which you may slumber over such a question, and such a doubt?" Or, supposing these great interests not to be in doubt and hazard, if there is any TO CERTAIN MENTAL STATES. 45 duty, or any temptation with respect to which the darker season of feeling would aid him to prepare his mind, is it wise to reject that aid ? Now is not this a reasonable pleading? It is but requiring that a man should not be willing to come out from a temporary and special state of feeling without having availed himself of that advantage which it has specially offered him ? But very briefly we will apply the admoni- tion to only one more particular state of feeling which not seldom visits an observer of man- kind ; namely, an indignant excitement of mind against human conduct. It will not be pretended that this is one of those feelings that ought to be extinguished as absolutely evil. It is what the best men have made no scruple of indulging and avowing ; the worthiest teachers, protes- ters, and reformers. But to make the best advantage of it, a man must very wisely " guide his heart." He looks abroad and sees an in- finity of things as he knows they ought not to be ; every kind of perversity, depravity, and wrong; and in many instances iniquity tri- umphing in power and success. And at times the flame of indignation is made to burn with violence by some particular occurring in- 46 THE SELF-DISCIPLINE SUITABLE stance of great iniquity. Now he cannot but be sure that, within certain limitations, he " does well to be angry." But then the admo- nition, " Take care that you manage this fire to answer a good purpose, and that you do not burn yourself. What purpose ? It may en- force on you the necessity of a most carefully disciplined judgment. It may surely contri- bute to aggravate your permanent impression of the extreme evil of sin, (let every indig- nant emotion go thither); and therefore, to "justify" the Almighty in that part of his economy which is directed in hostility against it ; to impress upon you that which is so much to be hated, is no less to be dreaded. There- fore beware yourself. The indignant thoughts and emotions thus going outward, may surely admonish you against leaving all to an indul- gent judgment within. Amidst these indignant feelings, there should be suggested a warning against a deceptive manner of comparing your- self with others. This state of feeling may admonish you of the sovereignty of God. You look at all this; you are impotent and cannot put an end to it. God sees it all ; he is omnipotent, and could end it in a moment. There is a reason why he does not. You must TO CERTAIN MENTAL STATES. 47 submit in mystery and humility to his supreme wisdom. And, finally, should it not contribute to the desire of a better world ? and to a more earnest application to all that which may pre- pare you for it ?" Here we close these observations. These few exemplifications may contribute to show, how those involuntary states of feeling, which come upon us for a time, may be turned to a valuable use ; that so we may carry out of the world with us benefits acquired by the divine aid, from all the mental seasons through which we shall have passed. February 13, 1822. LECTURE IV. THE RIGHT MODE OF GIVING AND RECEIVING REPROOF. GALATIANS iv. 16. Am I therefore become your enemy, became 1 tell you the truth ? MEN commonly assign a number of the per- sons and things within their sphere to the classes, respectively, of friends and enemies. There are beings that have in them an evil spirit towards us, and there are those that have a good one. And it is of very great importance that men rightly account of what are such, (i. e. friends and enemies) because very much of what men are, and what they do, depends on what they account friends and enemies. Many things in our notions, tastes, habits, practices, if traced back to the cause, are what they are, because such and such men were regarded by us as friends or as enemies. AXD RECEIVING REPROOF. 49 How disastrous, therefore, that perversity of apprehension through which enemies have so often been accounted friends, and friends ene- mies ! And especially conspicuous has this per- versity been in regard to the point suggested in our text, namely, whether it should be esteemed the part of a friend faithfully to tell men the truth ; and whether the suppression of truth, and the substitution of its opposite, should not be held to mark the character of an enemy. Advert, in your thoughts, to the first tempta- tion in the world ; the first communication to man of opinion and advice, after God had finished speaking. The most gross, and im- pious, and pernicious falsehood was pronounced; what there was the most absolute evidence must be such. And it was taken for the lan- guage of a friend ! For what plainer proof can there be that the speaker is regarded as a friend, than that his advice is practically taken, when the taking of it involves the most momen- tous interests ? It is but in passing, that we notice how much into the dark this fact plunges us, in respect to the question, "What really was, in kind and degree, the original rectitude of man?" The bare fact proves, irresistibly, that too much of E 50 THE RIGHT MODE OF GIVING what many systematic divines have inconsider- ately written can be no better than poetry. Again, in exemplication of how men have judged of friends, how did the world become covered with a deluge of error, but because those were accounted friends who spoke the re- verse of truth ? Ask again, where and when has it been that flatterers were not admitted and welcomed as friends ? What a prodigious singularity in history were it, if there were recorded any nation, or tribe, or city, in which these were generally and practically discouraged and silenced, and honest truth was the way to favour! Whenever was it, that honest truth was the obvious expedient of self-interest? Self-interest with men is to be promoted by giving them the persuasion that we are their friends. Well then, has their faithfulness been the way in which men have gone about to make their fellow-mortals esteem them for friends ? How often has the amicable state of feeling been broken up by telling the truth, even when done in a proper spirit and manner ! The great apostle himself, seems not without apprehension of such an effect, sincere as he was, and affec- tionate, and venerable, and even speaking to them with the authority of God. And still, AND RECEIVING REPROOF. 51 and always, is not this honest expression of truth one of the most difficult and hazardous things a friend has to do ? All which is but one more example to show that, in this world, what- ever is the best in a thing, is the most difficult to be had, and to be kept in that thing. But, now, in a general theoretical judgment, men would approve, by implication at least, what is so unwelcome when it comes to the practice. " What would you wish your friend to be ?" Answer. " Whatever else, I would wish him to be sincere." Sincere ! and what then ? What is his sincerity ? Not a thing simply and silently within himself. " What would you wish your friend to be ?" Answer. " That he should take a very gen- uine interest in my welfare, and be desirous to promote it." Well ! and is his sole and sover- eign rule for consulting and promoting your welfare to be, that he should always please you ? If he deliberately thinks that certain things are true, and that though the representation of them will not sound quite graciously in your ears, it is important to your welfare that they should be pressed on your attention, what is he to do ? what will be truly seeking to promote your welfare ? E 2 52 THE RIGHT MODE OF GIVING " What would you wish your friend to be ?" Answer. " A person of a clear, sound, dis- criminating judgment, and a decided preference, in all things, for what is right." Well, but he Avill exercise this judgment on you ; and would you not wish to have the benefit of it, so exer- cised ? And his strong, discerning, conscien- tious preference of what is right must he take care never to signify it in any way that should convey an admonition or reproach to you ? " What would you wish your friend to be ?" Answer. " That he should not be a man full of self-complacency, a self-idolater, but obser- vant and severe toward his own errors and defects." Indeed ! and is this the man that is to be quite insensible to your defects and faults ? is he not to apply the same law? Or, if he does perceive and judge, is it his duty to cherish in you that very self-complacency which you require he should not have in himself? Is he to be content that you should be that which you could not tolerate him to be ? We might yet again ask, " What would you wish your friend to be ? n Answer. "I should wish he were a man that would include me expressly in his peti- tions to the God of all grace, praying that, AND RECEIVING REPROOF. 53 among other things, I might be corrected, im- proved, and delivered from those evils which he perceives in me, and God far more clearly." Well now, are these evils too sacred for any finger but that of God to touch? Are you, with your faults, like the holy ark ? if Uzzah apply a hand, he must be smitten ! May not the friend venture to say thus to you " 1 have prayed for you against such and such things?" Would you be displeased that he would thus gently and seriously excite you to make the same requests yourself? Or at least excite you to think, whether they are not such as you would do well to make, and do well to adopt a corresponding self-discipline ? We will but suppose one more answer to the question, "What would you wish your friend to be ?" Answer. " I would wish him to be such that, as the last result of my communications with him, a great deal of whatever may be defective and wrong in me shall have been disciplined away." But, by what manner of operation, if he is never to hint at such a thing ? Is it to be by some moral magic ? Or is he to presume no farther than to admonish by example ? What ! not even if he perceives that that admonition does not take effect ? How many pointed sug- 54 THE BIGHT MODE OP GIVING gestions of his mind is he to withhold from putting into words, in waiting to see whether they will arise in your own thoughts ? May he not justly despair of accomplishing much bene- ficial correction, so long as he must not say that he intends or wishes to do it ? so long, in short, as he feels himself in hazard of becoming, in your regard, an "enemy" by telling you the truth ? Thus men will profess, and perhaps unthink- ingly believe, that they derive the most essential benefits derivable from a true friend ; but if he shall offer to impart them, he becomes an " enemy ! " But consider, what an invitation, the while, this temper of mind gives to real ene- mies ; to the flatterer ; to the designing hypo- crite ; to every imposition the mind can put on itself; and to the great deceiver of souls ; to any thing but salutary truth ! The great cause of this perversity and repug- nance is, that it cannot be but that plain truth (by whatever voice) must say many things that are unpleasing. All censure is so ; as it hurts that most quick, and delicate, and constant of all feelings, self-love. And censure ! who dares to say in how many points the full unmitigated application of truth to him would not be cen- AND RECEIVING REPROOF. 55 sure ? And who dares to say how many of these points might not be struck upon by a clear-sighted friend, that should unreservedly express "the truth?" Hence the disposition to regard him as an " enemy." Another thing greatly contributing to this feeling toward him is, a want of the real earnest desire to be hi all things set right ; a kind of hollow truce which is kept up with conscience, with great difficulty, easily disturbed, and the disturbance painful ; therefore, " do not, do not come to provoke the enemy within ! " And then, again, there is pride, reacting against a fellow-mortal and fellow-sinner. The man who expresses corrective truth, seems, for the time, to assume a certain kind of superiority. The adrnonisher, the reprover, seems to assume a capacity partaking of both lawgiver and judge. And this appearance will not be perfectly qualified away by any disavowal of all such assumption ; nor even by the man's declaring that he is sensible he is at the same time cen- suring also himself; and is desirous to take to himself the admonition he gives. Still the sentiment of pride is, " What right has a fellow- sinner, with his own defects to be corrected, thus to summon and arraign me before him as in judgment ? " 56 THE RIGHT MODE OF GIVING Here how obviously is the consideration sug- gested, of the importance of a practical self-cor- rection, in order to be able to admonish and correct others with dignity and effect. Another thing against a man's amicable reception in the character of a corrective in- structor is, not seldom, a real difference of judgment on the matters in question. When the " friend" ventures to express some accu- satory "truth" (truth, as he deems it) the answer may be, " I do not admit it to be truth," and, of course, it is possible the respondent may be right. But if he only thinks so, he is inclined to take double offence. The corrector both has taken upon him to be a judge and censurer, and has judged and censured wrong. The spirit of defensive hostility rises at once in the accused, and both are prompted to rush into " a just and necessary war f" In this case, if it were possible for them to have friendly and Christian temper enough to argue the matter calmly, they might both receive advantage. The one, or the other, might be convinced of error, and ingenuously acknowledge it, glad to be just so much a gainer. Or, more probably, each might come to see reason to admit the other's representation in part, so that they AND RECEIVING REPROOF. 57 should nearly coincide. The person repre- hended might acknowledge the truth and justice to a certain extent, and at the same time suc- ceed in showing the other that there are cir- cumstances and considerations greatly modify- ing the attributed fault. Is it not mortifying to think how seldom such amicable discussion is permitted by temper and pride to take place, even among good men ! We note only one thing more, as tending to excite in a person hearing unpleasant truth a feeling as toward an " enemy," and that is, an unfavourable opinion or surmise, as to the mo- tives of the teller of this truth. If it is truth, and useful truth, the motives of him that says it should make no material difference. Even from an enemy real instruction has an undi- minished value. But, as we are constituted, this consideration does make a great difference. But the person reprehended should reflect, how strongly the nature of the case tempts him to think unfavourably of the motives. Let him consider how slowly such surmises are enter- tained by him when he receives approbation or applause. Such complacent expressions may have been repeatedly received from the person who now, for once, ventures to utter blame. 58 THE RIGHT MODE OF GIVING Was he then accounted or suspected for an " enemy ?" But is all the assurance and evi- dence of his being a friend to be annihilated by a few sentences in a different kind of language ? Here, however, it is to be acknowledged that truth may sometimes be spoken in the spirit of an enemy, and for an enemy's purpose; far from any intention to do good, or real love of truth. In many an instance it has been spoken and urged home, for the very purpose of morti- fying and tormenting. Sometimes it has been spoken in triumphant revenge for admonitions and reproofs formerly received ; for the purpose of precluding a repetition of such unwelcome admonitions, and silencing the monitory voice. It has been uttered in the pure delight of being able to fix the reproach of something wrong on even the best men. It has been deliberately considered and kept back in readiness to be ut- tered when too late to do any good. It has even been digested and reserved in the mind to be uttered with infernal exultation, to inflict a pang on a person sinking in distress or in death. Let no speaker of truth, then, actuated by evil motives, content or acquit himself by being able to say, " It was truth, and nothing but truth, that I expressed." AND RECEIVING REPROOF. 59 But setting out of view all such depravity as this, we shall do well, to insist on a circumstance or two of propriety, in respect to the telling of unpleasant truth. For one thing, it is self-evident, that those who have to do this, should well exercise them- selves to understand what they speak of. If this be a rule of propriety generally, in the utterance of thoughts and judgments, it is espe- cially so in respect to those which are to be ex- pressed as reprehensions, directly applied to persons and to friends; where some pain and displeasure may be expected to be caused, and opposition provoked. On such occasions how needful a knowledge of the subject, well-con- sidered opinion, clear representation, pertinent sound argument. It hardly needs be said, that a real and evi- dent friendly intention is of great avail. It may be added, that there should not be the same stress laid on every thing, that may not be exactly as the corrective instructor thinks it ought. Indeed, many minor things may wisely be altogether passed over. Again, in presenting admonitory or accusa- tory truth, it should be the instructor's aim that the authority may be conveyed in the truth it- 60 THE RIGHT MODE OF GIVING self, and not seem to be assumed by him as the speaker of it; that he may be the mere con- veyer of the force of the subject. You have seen this difference exemplified no doubt. One man, a discreet and modest one, (and not the less strong for that), shall keep himself as much as he can out of the pleading, and press the essential virtue and argument of the subject. Another makes himself prominent in it, so that yielding to the argument shall seem to be yield- ing to him. His style, expressly or in effect, is this ; " I think MY opinion should have some weight in this case." " These arguments are what have satisfied me" " If you have any respect for my judgment," &c. &c. So that the great point with him is not so much that you should be convinced, as that he should have the credit of convincing you. Once more, the teller of unpleasing truths should watch to select favourable times and oc- casions (" mollia tempora fandi" ) ; when an in- quisitive or docile disposition is most apparent ; when some circumstance or topic naturally leads, without formality or abruptness; when there appears to be in the way the least to put him (the person reproved) in the attitude of pride and hostile self-defence. AND RECEIVING REPROOF. 61 It is an unhappy fact, that even among friends, the very reverse of this discreet and be- nevolent policy very generally prevails. Of all tunes, it is just in that when something has made them angry, when the state of amicable feeling is for the time broken up, that they speak out the most of the ungracious truth which they have thought at other times. They have thought of it, and wished to say it, but did not know how; they have waited for a favourable occasion, but it never seemed to come; the subject has therefore been brooded over in silence, and perhaps created many an unamicable and unamiable mood, which was not explained. Till at length ! So that " the truth," (for we will suppose that there is much truth uttered in this explosion,) instead of doing any of the good which it might in a certain manner of communication, records itself, as it were, in deep and lasting mischief. What might, by wisdom and benevolence, have been made to fall as a salutary shower, is gradually collected and darkened till it bursts forth in a violent and destructive tempest. One great mischief of thus " telling the truth" is, that it can hardly ever afterwards be said in a concili- ating and persuasive manner. That subject is 62 THE RIGHT MODE OF GIVING thenceforward to be avoided, or but reserved for another storm. How much it is to be wished that all this could be mended; among friends especially. One thinks that, among them, it should be pos- sible that the system of social communication might be constituted on such high principles, that it should be understood as their mutual wish and claim to have the advantage of one another's faithful friendly animadversions. Or that, at least, more particular friends might ex- pressly recognize this as a right and obligation. Think, if this were practicable, what a benefit it might be ! Consider, how many thoughts there are, in their separate minds, concerning one another, which would be beneficially cor- rective, if they could come by some intuition into the other's mind respectively. How often it has occurred to you; " This that is in my thoughts when I think of him I do wish it could be in his for I am sure it would have some good effect ; that is to say, if it could be in his mind, without being suggested from mine ; but, as so suggested, I cannot be sure it would be at all efficacious." The fear of what our text expresses, still hangs over the mind, and shuts it up from the desired communication. AND RECEIVING REPROOF. 63 And no wonder, when this has so often been the experience of the most genuine friends, in presenting salutary truth; so often the expe- rience of the worthiest instructors, parents, mi- nisters, philanthropists; of prophets and apos- tles, of Moses and Paul; nay, of our divine Lord, and Master, and Redeemer himself! But still, let not the sincere friend suffer himself altogether to despond. And, that this task and service of telling the truth may not be in vain, and worse, we cannot, in conclusion, too strongly insist on the duty with respect to hearing it. Men should be aware, that it is an unfavourable symptom of the state of the mind, when there is an excessive and irritable deli- cacy as to hearing things which are the con- trary of flattery. Is it a wise self-love that would thus draw a protective and inviolable line round every thing that is ours ; round all the defects and faults we may have, which are our closest and most mischievous enemies ? As if a garrison should make a point of most sa- credly protecting the very traitors it knows or suspects it has within, because they belong to their town ! The right disposition of mind is, that which de- sires earnestly " THE TRUTH !" " THE TRUTH !" in whatever manner it may come to us. Not 64 GIVING AND RECEIVING REPROOF. that the manner of its being conveyed is quite indifferent ; far from it ; but " THE TRUTH," howsoever it come, has its own intrinsic eternal value. And what a fool I am, if I will not take it, and apply it to its use, just because the manner of its coming to me has not pleased me ! Even from an avowed enemy, as it has often been said, we ought to be willing to learn ; but surely then, when it is from a friend, a Chris- tian friend ! Recollect the disposition of the psalmist, " Let the righteous smite me, it shall be a kindness; let him reprove me, it shall be an excellent oil, which shall not break my head." Let it be remembered, that there have been many instances in which a friend, silent when he should have spoken, has himself afterwards received the reproof, in serious and pathetic terms, for not having done so, from the person whom he declined to admonish. Finally, if there be those who are of a tem- perament so painfully and irritably susceptible, that they really can no way bring themselves to be willing to hear corrective truth from others, how strong is the obligation that they should look so much the more severely to them- selves. February 28, 1822. LECTUKE V. ON COMBINING WATCHFULNESS AND PRAYER. MATTHEW xxvi. 41 . Watch and pray that ye enter not into temptation. THIS is one of the last sentences uttered by our Lord to liis disciples before his death. All he appears to have said to them the remainder of that dreadful night would fill but very few moments. And this circumstance of being nearly the last, would seem to give it a peculiar and solemn emphasis. The last, the end of any prolonged series, if at all important, has some peculiar relation to our most serious feel- ings; how it finds them out, moves them into exercise, even men of mirth are somewhat graver ! If the last in an important series is considered with respect to prospect, it is regarded like coming to the brink of a gulf; if with regard F 66 ON COMBINING to retrospect, it seems as it were to collect, and stand representative of the importance of all the preceding, as if it had a voice and said, " They all speak this once more by me, that speak the last." In the case of a revered friend and in- structor, speaking nearly for the last time, it would seem as if his spirit, before it departed, went back to reanimate, repeat, re-apply all his preceding instructions. It is as if he said, " My spirit cannot come to yours in any new words, any more words ; let it henceforward be felt as coming to you in those I have spoken before." And also the sentences which he deliberately chose to utter last, would be felt as being in- stead of, and in some sense having the virtue of, all the other valuable things that he cannot now say. But in the instance of our Lord, there were other most solemn and affecting circumstances to give emphasis to his last expressions to his disciples. They were uttered under the pres- sure of a mental agony unparalleled in nature and degree in all time; in the near anticipa- tion of a corporeal anguish the severest that malignity could devise to inflict; and all this inflicted on perfect goodness, and (as far as men were concerned) inflicted because of that good- WATCHFULNESS AND PRAYER. 67 ness; because he was in perfect antipathy to that moral evil which reigned triumphant, and raged at his interference. And all this was voluntarily encountered, not only by an original act of determination, but by an act of deter- mination at each step renewed, and at each step in one sense revocable ; that is to say, if it had been morally possible for him to abandon the object. He said the case was such, and the whole grand design still so depending on his present determination, that myriads of angels would instantly have come at his requisition. And then with a sublime, and awful, and justly vindictive triumph, he could have left the world to destruction ! But what had then become of the great purpose on which he came to redeem it ? Now all this would afterwards in the minds of his disciples, and should in ours, be associated with his last admonitions. To think how he watched, and prayed, and suffered, and cared for his disciples and mankind, in the hour in which he said it ! The first word of the admonition was pointed at that immediate circumstance that they slept ; even those three whom he had selected to go further with him in the melancholy garden for the purpose of their watching with him, even F 2 ON COMBINING they fell asleep, once and again, notwithstand- ing the awful character of the crisis. As if through an overruling appointment to show how completely he was placed, by his nature and his work, out of sympathy and co-opera- tion ; to show that HE was a person, and that h is was a part exclusive and alone. How true was it that he " trod the wine-press alone ! " Often would his disciples, in their subsequent career of apostles, reflect how totally inadequate they had been in all senses, to be in communi- cation with him in that awful hour! But we repeat again, that every renewed recollection of the admonition to watch and pray in defence against temptation, would be enforced by power- ful and affecting associations. We may be allowed to leave the strict and literal import of the term watching in the text for that larger sense in which it is so often used for exhortation in the New Testament. Yet it were not at all impertinent to dwell one moment on the admonition in that literal sense in which our Lord spoke it. It may surely be taken as a reproof of wasting in unnecessary slumber the time which should be employed in praying against temptation. It is at their own cost that any shall regard this as WATCHFULNESS AND PRAYER. 69 too trivial a thing for admonition and for con- science. Let it be honestly estimated what portion is really necessary for refreshment and health. And then let the comparison be imagined between a person who shall habitually thus consume one hour in the twenty-four, more than this necessary measure, and another who shall save and employ that one hour each day in praying, and especially in praying against temptation. And what would the sum of the difference be in a whole life ? Think how many temptations that have been yielded to, would have been escaped or overcome had that lost hour been so employed ! Will any one say, that he has quite time enough still, for this good use, though one of his hours each day be so thrown away ? One answer would be, that it may Avell be doubted whether a person so undervaluing his time will actually employ much of it in this best use. The next obser- vation would be, that it is a signal novelty, and an excepted case (no very honourable exception neither), if there be a man who has decidedly more than enough time for all his duties; he need not be envied by those to whom the Great Master has assigned as much service as they can perform by the improvement of all their time. 70 ON COMBINING But now let us a little Avhile consider the precept in its general and comprehensive appli- cation. " Watch and pray that ye enter not into temptation." There is enjoined here a feel- ing of apprehension and alarm. It is equivalent to saying " Do not suffer yourself to be at ease." " Beware of quietly enjoying your life. You are lost if you live without fear." But there is an emotion of the heart against enter- taining this state of feeling. " How grievous is it never to be secure ; never to be indulged in the happiness of an easy, unheeding confidence !" It suggests the idea of a place where a man can hardly go to sleep, lest the plunderer or assassin be watching, or hovering near unseen ; or of a place where the people can walk out no whither, without suspicion of some lurking danger or enemy not far off; and are to be constantly looking vigilantly and fearfully round ; a place where they cannot ascend an eminence, nor wander through a sequestered valley, nor enter a blooming grove, nor even a garden of flowers, without having the image of the serpent, the wild beast, or a more deadly mischief in human shape, as vividly present to the imagination as the visible enemy is to the eye ; a place where they would hesitate to enter in at a gate or a WATCHFULNESS AND PRAYER. 1\ door, though a friendly countenance (apparently such) were shown there to Invite them in. It would be said, who could endure to live in such a place ? Then, my friends, who can endure to live in this world? for these are but emblems of the condition of danger in which the soul sojourns on earth. Such a picture represents the danger, but fails in the other respect, the apprehensive caution of the sojourners ! For as to moral and spiritual dangers the greater number seem to have determined to indulge in a careless and almost unlimited con- fidence. What an amazing account of things, if it were possible to calculate the amount of suspicion, apprehension, vigilance, precaution, and preventive expedient among mankind, and then distinguish that proportion of these which has reference to moral and spiritual dangers ! Would it not be as if the race thought them- selves threatened on the one side, by more than all the plagues of Egypt, and on the other (where their most important interests lie) by merely some clouds of dust? As a natural consequence, they are overrun, and spoiled, and ruined, by what they so little dread and guard against, that is to say, by temptations. For consider, in obedience to what, in agree- 72 ON COMBINING ment and conformity to what, but temptation is it, that the far greater part of what men are about, is done ? (After what is done simply for the support of our mortal existence.) Look around and see how it is because temptation is acting upon men that they are such, and act so ! See how it despotically commands that man ; how it beguiles that other ; surprises a third ; mingles with the better influences acting on a fourth ! What but prevailing temptation should make the state of things throughout the moral scene be thus? thus, that is contrary to the divine laws. And whence is it that temptation is so gene- rally prevailing, so mightily prosperous in its operation ? Why does not the soul meet it, as water meets fire ? The fearful cause is that it acts on a nature congenial and accordant to what it offers. It is fuel that meets fire ! What says our own experience ? Experience at what a cost ! That long and most costly lesson has been thrown away upon us, if we can any longer with a heedless confidence trust our natural disposition in such a world. Yes! if we can carelessly trust it, even though the Spirit of God have imparted that infinite bless- ing a principle of renovation, a pure principle WATCHFULNESS AND PRAYER. 73 from heaven, that abhors and fights against the evil as dwelling within or invading from with- out. But, indeed, the indispensable evidence of such a divine principle will be, an urgent and effectual sense of the necessity of watching and praying against temptation. "That ye enter not into temptation." The words seem to say very pointedly ; Beware of the beginning ! of the beginning ! for it is in fatal connection with the next ensuing, and yet conceals what is behind. And since temptation is sure to be early with its beginnings, so too should watching and praying ; early in life ; early in the day ; early in every undertaking ! What haste the man must make that will be beforehand with temptation ! " That ye enter not ;" that we do not inatten- tively admit the first actions of temptation upon us. How important in this reference is self- observation ! For want of this, a succession of pernicious impressions shall have been made before the man is aware. " Enter not ; " that is, that we be cautious of venturing into any thing which we have reason to believe or suspect may soon become tempta- tion. It may be fair and harmless at the outset, but how far on ? Can no one be led into sin 74 ON COMBINING but by rushing at the very first into what is flagrantly such ? " Enter not," that is, that we be considerate how a thing may become tempta- tion. How may it, by a natural progress, effect the passions after a while ? What may very probably fall in and mingle with it ? This de- mands an exercise of discerning foresight. " That ye enter not ; " that is, that we may be quickly alarmed at the indications that a thing is becoming temptation. " Here a ques- tionable effect is beginning upon me ; nay, but it is a bad effect." " Certain principles of truth and duty are beginning to slacken their hold on me." Beware of becoming so partial to a thing that this circumstance shall appear a trifling matter. You may have seen such examples; uneasiness has been felt for a while ; there may have been a questioning whether to relinquish the object ; but the heart grew faster to it. Be cautious of pursuing an evident good in a way in which there must be temptation. Be speci- ally fearful of that where, if there be good to be obtained, the good is to come afterwards, but the temptation first. If the temptation coming first shall blind my discernment of the good cool my zeal or destroy my relish of it if I should stop with the temptation and abandon WATCHFULNESS AND PRAYER. 7^> the good ! And be fearful of that where the temptation is certain and the good only possible, or at best only probable. A dangerous pro- blem this, how much good possible, is worth how much temptation certain ? Beware of being beguiled in this manner, namely, that a positive unquestionable good can be alleged; but in truth it is not this that is the real in- ducement, but that something connected with that good offers a pleasing temptation which can be entertained under the plea of the good. Be peculiarly suspicious in any case, where all appears pleasing and attractive, and there is nothing for mortification and self-denial. Let suspicion and alarm be awakened, when we find our minds at work to make out any thing to be innocent against doubt and uneasy conscience. Be careful that when unquestionable duty leads into the way of temptation, we stay not longer near the temptation than we are honestly about the duty. Beware of the kind of companion- ship that directly leads into temptation. But let no man be beguiled to think he is safe against temptation at the tunes when his only companion is himself. The whole tempting world may then come to him through the me- dium of the imagination. The great deep of his 76 ON COMBINING own evil heart may then be broken up. In this solitude may come that tempter that came to our Lord in the desert. In truth, unhappily there is no situation or employment in which temptation is not to be apprehended. We only add, what vigilance and prayer are necessary against the sudden violent surprises of temptation ! These may come with as little warning almost as the dreadful accidents that befall men's persons. A sudden flash of infer- nal fire kindles the passions, and prostrates the judgment and conscience. Divine aid can come as suddenly as these assaults. But who may confidently rely that it shall? Now, think of all this ; and then of a heed- less, self-trusting, and prayerless habit of mind ! What must be the consequence ? Serious per- sons amidst their self-reproachful reflections may be amazed at the preventing goodness of God that still worse has not befallen them. To think how many days and weeks they have be- gun, how many scenes and occupations passed through, with little of real earnest prayer, little of solicitous conscientious vigilance. How grate- ful should they be to think how many tempta- tions they have been mercifully kept out of the way of, which they probably would not have WATCHFULNESS AND PRAYER. // resisted! But let them consider whether the proper testimony of that gratitude will be, that henceforward they little care or apply to his heavenly protection. They would have cause to dread that, even if they should not be at length fully and finally given up to evil, they will be suffered to fall into some great iniquity, in order to rouse them by the horrors of guilt. Think solemnly of the frightful extent of the possibilities of falling into sin. And that it is an insult to God to calculate on escaping with- out the means he has enjoined. " Watch and pray." These must be combined ; for watching without prayer were but an impious homage to ourselves. Prayer without watching were but an impious and also absurd homage to God. And let it be observed, finally, what em- phatic importance there is in the point of being saved from entering into temptation ; since, when a man is fully in it, and under the strength of its influence, there is an end of watching, and an indisposition to pray ! March 14M, 1822. LECTURE VI. CHARACTERISTICS OF VAIN THOUGHTS. JEREMIAH iv. 14. How long shall thy vain thoughts lodge within thee ? THERE are some of our duties which are oc- casional and temporary ; there is, in a strict sense, a " time for them," a time marked out from other time. But there are some which are habitual and continual ; so that when they are thought of, it is always, " now is the time." Now it is not implied that any duty is unim- portant, any precept insignificant, when we say that there is a peculiarly great importance in those duties which are habitual and continual. Yet it would appear that actually less impor- tance is attached, in general apprehension, to the continual than to what may be called the temporary duties. In a case of this latter class (the temporary CHARACTERISTICS OF VAIN THOUGHTS. 79 duties), a great deal of importance may seem to be collected into one particular time, and one particular portion of conduct. This particular matter of duty may be such, that there is an extremely obvious good or evil involved in per- forming or neglecting it ; in doing it well or ill ; in doing it or the reverse. There is the im- mediate threatening of bad consequences; the divine displeasure and a weight of guilt ; per- haps disgrace in society. Whereas, in a matter of the other class (the continual duties), the duty seems (so to speak) to be thinly diffused over a very wide space, and to be of great and special importance no- where. The obligation is not peculiarly strong here, nor there, this hour or the next. The guilt of neglecting it at any one tune is but as a particle. Therefore the accumulation of guilt is insensible and unalarming ; each little portion passes and vanishes away, and is too slight to leave a legible trace on the conscience ; so that the innumerable small portions are never felt as collected into the great sum. The kind of evil reproached in our text comes too much under this latter description. The habit of vanity in the thoughts may prevail in many persons who would be appalled at the 80 CHARACTERISTICS OF VAIN THOUGHTS. aspect of one great substantial sin, and are not found neglecting the chief, obvious, practical duties of external life. They may little suspect how much duty they are neglecting, or how much guilt they are contracting. They go quietly to repose each night, and hardly recol- lect to ask for its pardon. Yet a month, a year, or many years of vain thoughts ! in a being preparing for an eternity of seriousness and thought ! it is truly an awful account ! Yet with many this stands for little, in comparison with some one or two very wrong external actions. It were, it is true, too vague and fanciful a kind of calculation to pretend to assign the proportion between any given mea- sure of sin in external action, and a long succession of vain thoughts ; but it is quite certain that we are all liable to underrate, the guilt of the latter. It may therefore be use- ful to give a little serious consideration to this subject. But we may first observe, what a mighty amount of thinking there is in human spirits that does not come under the censure of the text. And do we say this in congratulation of our race ? No ! It is little cause for satis- faction that a criminal stands unaccused of one CHARACTERISTICS OF VAIN THOUGHTS. 81 degree of guilt because it is a deeper guilt that is imputed. The epithet " warn," in its strict acceptation, implies something trifling light insignificant empty. It is therefore not the proper description of wicked thoughts. For ex- ample, impious thoughts respecting the divine Being ; thoughts formed in the spirit of disap- proval, aversion, and rebellion; thoughts of malignity ; thinking, in order to indulge male- volent dispositions, rancour, revenge; think- ing how to give effect to these dispositions, pur- poses, devices, schemes, expedients; thoughts intent on wickedness of any kind ; dwelling on it with complacency and preference; pursuing it in desire, intention, and project. Such thoughts are of too aggravated evil to be called " vain" thoughts. They are not trivial, idle actions of the mind, but often strong and grave ones ; tending powerfully to an effect. And but consider, how much of this order of thinking there is in human minds ! So that it looks like a quite minor vision of evils when we turn to the view of the mere vanities of the mind. But how striking the reflection, that it looks so only by comparison with something so much worse that there is in human spirits ! Thus, if a good man had been compelled to G 82 CHARACTERISTICS OF VAIN THOUGHTS. sojourn awhile among the most atrocious of mankind, cruel savages, rioting in blood and the infliction of tortures (as in Dahomey, Mex- ico, Ashantee); or pirates, desperadoes, and murderers, and at last escaped into the society of frivolous, vain triflers; by force of com- parison this might seem almost like innocence and goodness; till he recollected his rules of judgment and said, " But this, too, is bad." So we see how the case is with the moral state of man ! You may fix upon an evil, and by the application of rules, rational and divine, see that it is absolutely a great one. But going deeper, you may reduce it to seem as if it were but a slight one, by comparison with some- thing else which you find in man. Thus vain thoughts, compared with vicious polluted thoughts, malignant thoughts, and blasphemous thoughts. Oh, the depth to which the investi- gation and the censure may descend ! We can easily picture to our minds some large neglected mansion hi a foreign wilder- ness; the upper apartments in possession of swarms of disgusting insects; the lower ones the haunt of savage beasts; but the lowest, the subterraneous ones, the retreat of serpents, and every loathsome living form of the most deadly venom. CHARACTERISTICS OP VAIN THOUGHTS. 83 With respect to the jurisdiction of the thoughts, it is an unfavourable circumstance that the man is committed wholly to himself, without external restraint or interference. (Put- ting out of view the divine inspection.) His thoughts are his own; they are within a pro- tecting cover ; for them he is not exposed to be censured and made ashamed by the inspectors of his outward conduct ; often he would be so ashamed, if such a thing could happen as a sud- den mental transparency. Under this protec- tion and exemption, it is quite certain, that if he shall not exercise a careful government over his thoughts in the fear of God, they will run to vanity, at the least. It is their easiest ope- ration ; it is their mere animal play : they hate to carry a weight, except when the passions lay it on. A man may too well verify this by a very little reflective attention. Observe next, that if the thoughts are left unrestrained to commit folly, they will commit an immensity of it. In this kind of activity, the thinking power is never tired nor exhausted. Think of the rapidity of the train I how sure it is that another, and still another, will in- stantly come ! Think of the endless evolutions, the never-ceasing sport, the confused multi- G2 84 CHARACTERISTICS OP VAIN THOUGHTS. plicity ! Never stagnant pool was more prolific of flies, nor the swarm about it more wild and worthless ! But what a wretched running to waste of the thinking principle ! " Haw long shall thy vain thoughts lodge within thee ?" We may describe them a little more particu- larly, and in detail. I. Those thoughts are " vain " from which we do not, and cannot, reap any good; supposing them not of the directly noxious kind. If there be any kind of action by which we should get some good, it is that of our thinking spirit. Well ; let a man take a survey over the course of his thoughts for a certain time past ; we will say, his thoughts in those parts of his time in which his thinking has not been intently and necessarily employed on his indispensable worldly affairs. Let him by a strong act of mind collect the long departed train into one view, not by detail and enumeration no in- deed! but by a comprehensive estimate; and then say, " What good ?" " Have they given and left me anything worth having? what? Have they made me any wiser? wherein? What portion of previous ignorance have they cleared away ? In what point is my judgment rectified? What good purpose have they fixed CHARACTERISTICS OF VAIN THOUGHTS. 85 or forwarded ? What one thing that was wrong has been corrected? or even more clearly seen how to be corrected? Is it, can it be, the fact, that all that succession passed me but as the lights and shadows of an April day? or as the insects that have flown past me in the air? While ten thousand or a hundred thousand ideas have passed my mind, might I really as well have had none?" To use an humble phrase, what has he got to show for it all ? He has kept his mind open to entertain all these passing visitants ; they have occupied his facul- ties, and consumed his tune. What ! have they all gone away and paid him nothing ? Let him see how many, or whether any, of that vast number are now retained by him, as valuable additions to the mental store. Whether there be any grains of gold-dust deposited by the stream that has carried down so many millions of particles of mud ? Does he even think there were many of the train that he could wish could be brought back and permanently retain- ed ? But what should he think of his thoughts, and of the mind that has suffered itself to be so employed, if the case be such that he can be content the myriads of them are gone into oblivion ! 86 CHARACTERISTICS OP TAIN THOUGHTS, II. Again, those thoughts are likely to be of the "vain" character, which cannot associate in any agreement with useful and valuable ones. Does a man perceive in himself that if serious useful thoughts happen to be suggested, there is a great tribe within and in possession, that know nothing of these uncouth intruders, except that they are enemies; that can do nothing in conjunction with them, but, on the contrary, resist and overpower them, and divert him away from attending to them? What manner of thoughts can these be? It were a good experiment if a person in the midst of a heedless course of thoughts would suddenly turn to some serious important subject. See what sensation is produced among them ! Is it that which would be produced by the sudden entrance of a wise and venerable man among a company of frothy triflers ? Then what kind of thoughts are they ? III. Those are "vain thoughts" which it is found absolutely necessary to drive and keep out in order to attend to any serious matter to good purpose ; and, unhappily, often as difficult as it is necessary. Have you never experienced this necessity and this difficulty? You have, perhaps, determined and attempted to apply the CHARACTERISTICS OF VAIN THOUGHTS. 7 whole mind's attention to some important matter. But you found yourself like a man sitting down to study in a room filled with a moving, talk- ing, laughing crowd. Is it any better to have such a crowd and confusion within the mind itself, than outside ? But you resolutely and indignantly tried again. But again this mental mob has forced its way in; surrounded you; baffled you ; mocked you ; distracted you ! A person in such plight might be told ; " You should not so long have suffered 'vain thoughts' to 'lodge' within you, that they made the mind, as it were, their own proper abode ! " IV. An obvious description of vain thoughts is, thoughts dwelling largely and habitually on trifling things. Many persons are in a measure saved from this (no thanks to their better will) by the pressure of indispensable business in practical life. But so far as the mind is left to its freedom, there is a sad propensity to waste itself on trifles ; and what an infinity of them to waste itself among! All the frivolous cares about personal display ! all the idle nothings of fashion and routine ! all the vanities of amuse- ment ! all the bubble incidents on the stream of society! the endless dance of atoms through the whole air of the moral world! The mind CHARACTERISTICS OF VAIN THOUGHTS. that will give its thoughts away to these, alas for its destiny ! Would that some stern alarming voice might often break in upon such thoughts with, " What is all this to thee ? hast thou no- thing else to think of before thou shalt die and appear before God ? " V. " Vain" are the thoughts that are habitu- ally dwelling on trifling subjects, but still more so, if possible, those that trifle with important ones. Great things may be thought of in a light careless way, with no sense of their importance; or merely as matters of curiosity and speculation ; or merely to throw them into forms of amusing or ludicrous fancy. You have seen sometimes on the surface of water, when rippled by the breeze you have seen the sun or the stars reflected in a play of shivered, distorted, fantastic lights. It is so that some vain minds receive the grandest and even most solemn subjects. But let them be warned that there is no transition more tremendous, than that from being amused with the most import- ant objects to the state of feeling that insulted importance avenged. VI. Another characteristic of vanity in the thoughts is, their not remaining with any con- tinuance on a subject ; their fickleness. If suf- CHARACTERISTICS OF VAIN THOUGHTS. 89 fered, they will start from point to point, with very many removes within a few moments ; as if they were afraid of growing to a subject, and remaining fast for ever ; or as if afraid of find- ing any good in a thing to make it worth while to remain a few moments in the contemplation of it. It is infinitely beyond all calculation or prophecy where the thought shall be five mi- nutes hence, unless there be some very favour- ite topic ; and then from the remotest subject it shall in the twinkling of an eye dart upon that. With this exception, there is no tenacity of an object. In this ungoverned state, any thing can take away the thought from any thing. There is nothing so great that it might touch upon, that there is any thing too little to draw it away. One thought therefore is of no use for leading profitably to another. There is no regulated connexion and depend- ence in the train; no rational links; no pro- gressive steps ; no leading to an ultimate object. All this vanity there will be in the thoughts, when the course of them is left quite open and free to casualty ; when nothing is avoided, re- pelled, or selected. VII. But there are vanities of thought of a less fickle character. As when the mind has 90 CHARACTERISTICS OF VALX THOUGHTS. specially favourite trifle; some cherished idolized toy ; some enchanting particle of this world's dust ; some little purpose to be effected, which has grown interesting only by the habit of thinking of it. There is many a mind thus seized upon, and fascinated by some one trifling object trifling in all but its power of thus possessing itself of a human soul ! That capti- vated soul has gradually magnified it into a thing of commanding interest; and constantly makes its way to it, in thought, through what- ever multitude of other things, small or great. Insomuch that at length all things strangely seem to lead or point to it. If the man could suddenly become a clear-sighted self-observer, he would be amazed to perceive the almost irresistible tendency of his thoughts. And wherefore ? Let him soberly make out to himself what mine of wealth, what reservoir of felicity, what principle of divinity, there can be enclosed within that trifle! And suppose divine wis- dom to come in upon him, and he would execrate this vanity of his thoughts. And the principle, the spell of this captivation, what should he call it but the magnetism of Satan 9 VIII. Partly like this is that vanity of which CHARACTERISTICS OF VAIN THOUGHTS. 91 many have to accuse their thoughts, in relation to things perhaps not exactly of the frivolous class, and that justly claim a measure of thought ; namely, the tendency to return to them continually, when it is sensibly evident that the thinking more of them can be of no advantage. The thought goes again just in the very same track, and the same length: nor expects to do any more. It makes the same enumeration of tilings, the same comparison, the same calculation. A person perhaps re- peats within himself twenty tunes over what he has said in some particular case, or heard, or done ; he measures fifty times over the probable distance of time to some wished for future event, when he knows that nothing on earth is more useless. IX. This will often be accompanied by an- other mode of vain thought, that of allowing the mind to dwell on fancies of how things might be, or might have been; when the plain reality of how they are and must be, is be- fore us. X. Finally, a wide and aggravated charge of vain thought falls upon men's notions and schemings of worldly felicity. The evil at- tending and resulting from all this might be 92 CHARACTERISTICS OP VAIN THOUGHTS, exposed as a distinct additional topic of illustra- tion ; but it must in a measure be evident in the mere description of these vanities of the thoughts. Some suggestions of a corrective discipline, however, we did intend to have made. If we may assume that it is a subject as acceptable, as it is plainly important, it might be a good use of our moments on the next occasion to direct our thoughts to that subject. But the great point is, that we be desirous, in good earnest, to have so pernicious an evil corrected ; that our think- ing and immortal spirits, which should be tem- ples of the Most High, may not be the degraded recesses of every vanity with which his Spirit cannot dwell. April 4*A, 1822. LECTURE VII. CORRECTIVES OF VAIN THOUGHTS. JEREMIAH ir. 14. How long shall thy vain thoughts lodge within thee ? THE former discourse on this text was chiefly a representation of matter of fact. It was an attempt to describe the plague of vain thoughts, a mental grievance bearing really no small analogy to one or two of the plagues of Egypt. The description was in too many particulars to allow of any attempt at recapitulation. With all their varieties, however, and compass, and mischief, they stand as but one class of the evil thoughts by which the human mind is infested, that of the trifling, empty, impertinent, volatile, useless as distinguishable from vicious or polluted thoughts, malignant thoughts, and thoughts directly impious. 94 CORRECTIVES OF TAIN THOUGHTS. The evil, the sin and perniciousness of vain thoughts, could not but be manifest in a mere description of them, if at all adequately given. Such a description would necessarily display, as a miserable thing, the waste of the activity of the thinking principle. Consider, that we have need of a profitable use of all this, and are kept poor by the waste ; we cannot afford it. The sun may waste an immense proportion of his beams the clouds of their showers but these can be spared; there is an infinite opulence still, for all the indispensable purposes of nature. It is not so with our thinking faculty. The most saving use of our thinking power will but imperfectly suffice for the knowledge, sound judgment, and wisdom which are so very neces- sary for us. It is wretched, then, that this precious thing, the activity of our thinking spirit, should run to utter waste. It is as if the fine element by means of which your city is now lighted should be suffered to expire into the air without being kindled into light. Again, this vanity of the thoughts puts us practically out of the relation we are placed in to the highest objects and interests. We are placed in a relation to God Christ a future world to an infinite interest. Now how is CORRECTIVES OF VAIN THOUGHTS. 95 this relation to be recognized, to be practically realized to our minds ? how can it be, but by thought of an appropriate kind ? The sensible connexion of the mind with those great objects, its contract with them, must be by means of there being in it ideas of those objects, ideas in a degree corresponding to their greatness. Cer- tainly, not ideas alone, when we are speaking of a saving and happy connexion with divine ob- jects, but at all events, ideas. Now how are these important and solemn ideas to have any occupancy and hold of the mind when it is filled and dissipated with all the vanities of thought ? they cannot abide on the mind, nor come to it in such a state. It is, as when, in some regions, a swarm of locusts fills the air, so as to exclude the sun, at once intercepting the the light of heaven, and devouring what it should shine on. Thus by ill-regulated thought we are defrauded of what is the supreme value of thought. We amuse ourselves with the flying chaff, careless of the precious grain. And then, if we advert to the important matters of practical duty, it is instantly seen how ill vain thoughts will serve us there. To note but one, the duty of imparting instruction, the social promotion of wisdom. What will 96 CORRECTIVES OF VAIN THOUGHTS. ten thousand of these trifling volatile thoughts come to, for explaining any subject, disentang- ling any perplexity, rectifying any false notion, enforcing any argument, maintaining any truth ? It is in vain that the man glances, in recollec- tion and research, through all the idle crowd of his ideas for any thing to avail him. It were like bringing straws, and leaves, and feathers to meet an accompt where silver and gold are required. Such a person feels an inability to concentrate his thoughts to a purpose of social wisdom, when there is a particular occasion to do so, and an extreme repugnance to make the attempt. In consequence, the communications of social life will contribute little to improve- ment ; they will be dissipated among trifling topics; they will be shallow and unprofitable on important ones ; they will tend to run quite into levity and folly. Now if we endeavour to survey in one col- lective view the modes and characters of this evil habit, and its effects, we behold something utterly unsuited to the condition of the immortal spirit on earth, and fatally at variance with its high destiny. It is here under a great and solemn appointment, advancing into a life of the same duration as that of its Creator. And CORRECTIVES OF VAIN THOUGHTS. 97 a prevailing vanity of thought is a flagrant in- consistency with the nature and obligations of this awful predicament. Here is a destination to the magnitude of which the greatest thoughts of the highest created being are inadequate and a prevailing manner of thinking but just worthy hardly worthy of a creature whose utmost scope of interest should be to amuse away a few years on earth, and then sink in the dust wholly and for ever ! Now if we are conscious that this vanity of the thoughts is an evil besetting us, shall we not be earnestly desirous that it may be counter- acted ? If we are, we shall be well disposed to the consideration of any thing that may con- tribute to the remedy of so great an evil. Our present business is to offer a few suggestions to this purpose. But, in the first place, we are to beware of imagining, that for such an evil, there can be any discipline exclusively specific and peculiar ; any discipline that should treat the malady as a circumstance only of the state of the mind, separable from its general condition ; as in the healing art there are what they call topical complaints, and their appropriate applications. It is indeed self-evident that the habitual H 9 CORRECTIVES OF VAIN THOUGHTS. quality of the thoughts will correspond to the general state of the mind. Just left to them- selves, to arise and act spontaneously, they would express the very state of the soul, its inclinations, perversions, ignorance, or any bet- ter quality there may be in it. So that if the involuntary thoughts could but strike against a mirror, a man might see his mental image. Therefore no corrective discipline for the thoughts can be effectual that does not apply to the substantial, habitual state of the mind. If there were a spot of marshy ground, which ex- haled offensive vapours, it would be ridiculous to think of expedients to be used in the air above it, fumigations, or any such thing ; the ground itself must be drained and reclaimed. And as to the correction of the mental vice in question, how evident it is that it is not to be a thing to operate solely on the thoughts themselves (re- jecting, repelling, substituting, &c.), but to operate too, and primarily, on that in the mind which causes their prevalence. The passions and affections are grand sources of thoughts, they, therefore, are to be in a rectified state not tending to produce vain thoughts. The sub- jects most largely occupying the mind, most effectually "lodged" in it the measure of CORRECTIVES OF VAIN THOUGHTS. 99 valuable knowledge will have a great effect on even the involuntary thoughts. It is requisite the mind be in a settled state, not essentially tending to vain thoughts; and that there be strong fixed principles adverse to them, so that the case shall be " I hate vain thoughts." We should here in passing, mark a dis- tinction. The evil in question may be seen reversed in a special and partial sense. In some one capacity a man may be in a great measure freed or exempted from the trifling, empty, volatile class of ideas. For instance, a man of science, vigorously disciplined to think, so that few of his ideas absolutely run to waste ; or a man of learning; or a man of arduous worldly enterprise. Now this is great and admirable, regarded simply in an intellectual view ; viewed apart from moral and religious references. The defect may be that his object is fatally limited and exclusive ; that he leaves out the most important of all duties and interests of an immortal being, and trifles with them. In our exhortation against the vanities of thought, we are regarding a man in his general whole capacity, as related to this world and the next. And we want him to acquire some H 2 100 CORRECTIVES OF VAIN THOUGHTS. measure of such a well-ordered habit of thought as directed to all his concerns. In other words, that as a Christian, he should be such, in the discipline of his thinking, as some men are in capacity of worldly schemers, or scholars, or philosophers. And now, having insisted on it as the primary point, that the substantial state of the mind must be cured of vanity, in order to the radical correction of vain thoughts, and always keeping this in remembrance, can we suggest any particular expedients of a discipline against vain thoughts ? We must not for a moment fancy there are any expedients that can avail independently of resolute exertion. There is no dexterous device to obviate an evil arising from a habitual propensity of the mind ; especially when it is added that a habitual propensity will have been in some degree habitually indulged. There is no mental wand of enchantment at the waving of which the infesting swarm shall suddenly die, and the grievance cease. They will but make sport of any single act or signal for scaring them away, that is not part of a regular, determined, systematic, hostility. But as parts and expedients in such a regular persevering discipline, we CORRECTIVES OP VAIN THOUGHTS. 101 might suggest a few things serviceable to the purpose. For instance, it might be a beneficial thing to have certain specified subjects, of serious in- terest, to turn to when thought is beginning to be dissipated into these vanities; certain sub- jects might be selected and fixed expressly for this purpose. This might be something nearer, as it Avere, to serve to the purpose, than the merely being sensible that there are many im- portant subjects to which I might turn my attention. There is a grand assemblage to select from. And, by the way, what a reflec- tion here on the folly and guilt of an indulged vanity of thought ! General important truth offers many : choose any one. The memory of matters of fact. Suppose the recollection of a perilous situation and providential interposition. Or the remembrance of a dying scene. There is possibly in the room, the picture of a dead friend. Conscience offers subjects of thought ; for example, the record of what a man judges to have been his greatest sin ! If turning his mind to meet this dark aspect, will not check and suspend the vain career, should he not be alarmed at such a power as the vanity has over his mind ? Should not even this very 102 CORRECTIVES OF VAIN THOUGHTS. alarm be strong enough to produce the desired effect ? Another very simple and obvious expedient would be, for the person to make a sudden charge of guilt on his mind, when the vain thoughts are prevailing; that is, the guilt of being so surrendered to them. And let that charge be accompanied and enforced by the thought " God sees ! " Just as one has seen sometimes the levity of talk interrupted by an unexpected flash of lightning and clap of thun- der. If a man has not left him enough of conscience and right will to do so simple a thing as this, what a pernicious effect he may perceive that his vanity of thought has had! that it has subdued him, reconciled him to its indulgence ! If to do this is of no avail, what should he think then ? Again, when it is in solitude that a man feels this plague infesting his mind (and it is then that he is especially liable to it), it were well to have recourse to a direct act of devotion. " A very unfit material," it may be said, " are such thoughts for an offering to the Almighty." True, but the sincere petition to be rid of them is a very fit offering. And that presence should be peculiarly the situation in which their CORRECTIVES OF VAIN THOUGHTS. 103 vanity, and their evil should become most appa- rent. Especially if they are made the express subject of terms of description and imprecation, addressed to Him. How will they appear when we converse with God concerning them? That converse, besides, may infuse ideas of a better order, adapted to repel or consume the frivolous ones. For we want ideas of a mightier order that may be set against the vanities. (As if eagles should drive away the lighter tribes of the air.) And where should we obtain these mightier ideas, if not in the divine presence ? Again, the course of vain thoughts might sometimes be interrupted and stopped, by the question, brought to strike, as it were, suddenly on the mind, What is, just now, my most press- ing duty ? " Why, it is" judgment and con- science can often tell in one word what it is. " But here now, I am neglecting it, and for the sake of what ? " Sometimes a good temporary resource would be to go directly to some practical occupation ; some useful manual operation ; the adjustment of some point in a matter of business ; or, if leisure permits, a short visit to some house of mourning. The mind may thus, in a degree, 104 CORRECTIVES OF VAIN THOUGHTS. and for the time, be diverted from vain thoughts ; it may baffle and evade the worth- less train that was beginning its race. And in the last supposed resource, (the visit) a stronger perception might be acquired of the impertinence and folly of such mental vanities. Some of them may be recalled, to be placed in comparison with what is there seen and heard. Again, as a general and habitual expedient of correction, it will be of the very highest use and importance, to exercise and constrain our thinking to go along with the thoughts of those who have thought the best. Of course this means attentively reading the most valuable books ; reading so as to take hold of the mean- ing, connexion, and design. How forcible the contrary will be felt to be, and the reproach, to the idle nothings of thought ! We shall be made to perceive to what admirable purpose the thinking faculty can be worked, and made to perceive what rubbish, and dust, and nuisance is the sort of thinking into which an ungoverned idle spirit will trifle and rove ! (Here animad- vert on the prevailing light reading of the times.) Speaking of such vigorous exercise on a book, - we may ask, how much without it will you gain from the Bible ? CORRECTIVES OP VAIN THOUGHTS. 105 We are naturally led to another suggestion, for the reform in question, namely, the import- ance of thinking to a certain purpose, towards a proposed end. It is a chief characteristic of vain thoughts, that they are not in pursuit and progress toward any assigned object ; they aim at nothing and come to nothing. A good ques- tion to arrest them will be, " What does all this tend to ? " But reflect, what a number of things there are which we had need to aim O at by the course of thought, in those por- tions of time in which the mind is left free to think. Then the rule is, Have a marked pur- pose for the thoughts to be directed towards, and let their direction be in a progress, a regulated advance by steps, in a connected train. A double advantage in this : both that one point will be attained, and the habit of vain thoughts will be corrected. Be intent, in such a progress, on the reason, the why and ivherefore. We have just said that there are many im- portant things which we should aim at, by the course and exercise of thought. Now it will tend to check and shame these vanities, to reflect seriously and pointedly, in the very midst of them, how utterly worthless they are 106 CORRECTIVES OF VAIN THOUGHTS. for those desirable purposes ; how many things we have to do that these will not enable us, but the direct contrary. And then the mortifying reflection, which cannot be too often repeated and aggravated, " What they have done for us ! " There have been millions of them in my mind and what result? We have reiterated the words "atoms" and "dust," as types of their worthlessness ; but atoms and dust will in length of time form a fruitful soil; lava has been so covered. Worse then is the case with these mental vanities. The infinity of them never deposits a material of fertility ; and they impoverish and blast the ground, besides. Reflect also what would have been the pre- sent result of so many good and pertinent thoughts, instead of so many "vain thoughts." Nay, if a tenth, a fiftieth part of the number ; if there had been but comparatively a few grains of gold deposited by the stream that has carried so many particles of mud into the ocean ! " Good and pertinent thoughts," we said; we might try sometimes and verify the difference between such and the vain ones. For we may interrupt those vain ones to con- sider what would be the best thoughts on the very same subject. What would have been, on CORRECTIVES OF VAIN THOUGIITS. 107 this very matter, the ideas of this or the other wise and well-exercised spirit ? Sometimes we may perhaps recollect what they actually have been. It were a good expedient to repeat some of the ideas they have so expressed ; and then put in words a certain portion of our vain thoughts ! But even without such a compar- ison, think how a portion of such thoughts would sound, put in words and spoken aloud! If one hour's train of them had been all spoken aloud, just in the form and order in which they were suffered to run ! And if a small company were each to do this, what a commun- ity of wisdom it would make ! The mention of " company " reminds us that, for the discipline of the thoughts, a great deal may depend on the company a man keeps. " He that walketh with wise men shall be wise," Prov. xiii. 20. Society can easily be found in which every vanity of the soul may be indulged and confirmed; and the choosing of it by preference is practically saying, that all this concern of correction and improvement may go to the winds. Finally, if it is objected or complained that such a representation of disciplinary duty in- volves much that seems hard and difficult, we 108 CORRECTIVES OP VAIN THOUGHTS. have but to answer, " Yes, it is just as hard as to do justice to a rational and immortal spirit, that is placed here a little while for its improvement, and then must go where God says it is to go." But if it be so hard and yet so indispensable, how welcome must be that doctrine which pro- mises the help of an almighty Spirit, and invites us to pray for it ! What man in the exercise of reason, nay in but the very twilight or moon- shine of reason, will not exult to embrace such a doctrine, if he really cares about the progress of his spirit through this short life, and its ap- pointment and employments in another world ? April 22, 1822. LECTUKE VIII. SPIRITUAL FREEDOM PRODUCED BY KNOW- LEDGE OF THE TRUTH. JOHN viii. 22. The truth shall make you free. You all recollect the reception given to this declaration of our Lord, and the reply, " We were never in bondage to any man." The Jews did not take his words in the sense he meant ; but let the sentence be taken in their own sense, and a more absurd reaction of pride is not easy to be imagined "Were never in bondage to any man ! " What ! had they not the Roman governor, with a division of the imperial guards, in their metropolis? They retained, indeed, a little of the show of a monarchy, a king by sufferance, over a people tributary to a foreign power ; but of so little account was this government of their own, that 110 SPIRITUAL FREEDOM PRODUCED in the arraignment of our Lord, his claim to be " King of the Jews/' was alleged not as in contravention to the rights of Herod but of Cassar. But our Lord was speaking of a far different kind of bondage and emancipation ; a matter affecting all mankind, after all the Caesars are dead, and the Roman empire is fallen. And in this far more important view of men's condition, it is striking to observe how much pride of freedom there may be amidst the profoundest slavery. This is exemplified in multitudes of the citizens of any state politically free ; they shall be seen exhibiting a proud consciousness of this privilege (each one is lord of himself), with the utmost contempt and scorn of the people of those nations where all are subject to the will of one or a few. Now very far be it from us to undervalue political liberty a right of human nature, a thing without which no people can ever rise high in wisdom, virtue, and happiness. But at the same time, contemplate in another light, any such free nation existing, or that ever did exist, how many of the peo- ple elated with this proud distinction, stand exposed to your view as slaves, in a sense they little think of! Many in subjection to their BY KNOWLEDGE OP THE TRUTH. Ill appetites; many to the most foolish; many to the most vicious passions. Now to them what an inconsiderable good is their political liberty, as compared with the evil of this slavery ! and yet, amidst it all, there is the self-complacency, the pride, the boasting of freedom ! Take another exemplification. A high- spirited man in very independent circumstances, with confidence and self-sufficiency conspicuous on his front ; in numberless cases he can and will do as he pleases; he has the means of commanding deference and obsequiousness, de- fies and spurns interference and opposition ; and says "I am free!" For all this, perhaps, he is but the stronger slave. All the while, his whole mind and moral being may be utterly servile to some evil passion, some corrupt pur- pose, some vain interest, some tyrannic habit. We might specify one more exemplification, namely, the pride of free-thinking, carried to the extent of rejecting revealed religion. Here, indeed, the man will perhaps say that he veri- fies the text ; the truth has made him free ; he has quite impartially and in the soundest exer- cise of reason, satisfied himself that there is no divine revelation, and that there wanted none ; that that which claims to be acknowledged such, 112 SPIRITUAL FREEDOM PRODUCED and the whole history concerning it, are a most wicked imposition on mankind; that the re- corded miracles are a fabrication of lies; that the little good there is mixed up in the impos- ture was well known or attainable without it ; that the judgment to come, and heaven and hell, are idle fictions ; that immortality, and indeed a future state at all, are matters of such mere con- jecture, and so like poetical fancies, as not to be worth seriously taking into calculation in the scheme of this short life ; and a hundred other things his reason has achieved. And upon this, he has a proud sense of freedom from vulgar delusion ! Now a Christian judges all this to be a most signal prostration and slavery of the man's reason ; but let that pass ; allow him to say, " I am free ;" yet we might turn upon him and say, "Nay, but are you really free, in your own sense? have you never any dread of being left alone to your own reflections ? have you never any dark and terrifying intimations speak- ing to your soul? if you happened to be re- minded of the solemn dying expressions of a parent or friend, are you 'free ?' If you hear of, or witness, the last scene of one of the same class of freemen dying with inexpressible horror, are you ' free ?' If any illness should attack your- BY KNOWLEDGE OP THE TRUTH. 113 self, and suggest the alarming idea of death, are you 'free?' No; you are in reality not ' made free ; ' even in your own sense. But even supposing that you were, it would in another sense be but slavery. You would be surrendered, as if bound hand and foot, to all that is most pernicious to man. You would be just so much the more at the command of every temptation to sin ; just so much the more com- pletely a slave to any favourite vice; a vice, perhaps, most destructive of present welfare. You would be just so much more at the mercy and the sport of the frivolous and the profligate. And this is your proud freedom ! " Thus the most wretched of slaves are beguiled by a self- assurance of being free ! A grand primary thing that truth has to do in this world is, to expose to men their real situation as enslaved. And if both for this preliminary work, and for the whole great pro- cess of breaking up the bondage of the human spirit, truth, or "the truth," be the proper agent or instrument, what an immense work there is for it to do! For, are we not sur- rounded by a \vorld of slaves ? applying the term in the intellectual, moral, and religious sense. If we asked it in the political sense, the I 114 SPIRITUAL FREEDOM PRODUCED question would be its own obvious answer ; but we are using it in the sense in which it expresses a still much greater calamity. The mass of mankind are enslaved. The cool, sagacious, philosophic observer thinks so. The devout Christian observer thinks so. The illuminated dying estimator thinks so. And all the real friends of our race would unite to implore that the truth might come to perform its mighty work; or in other words, that the glorious Agent of human deliverance, the Son of God, would come and accomplish that work by means of " the truth." But why is truth so peculiarly the thing to work the deliverance from that tyranny by which the spirits of men are held enslaved? Evidently because a very material part of the strength of that which enslaves them, consists in ignorance and error, to which truth is the opposite. If we would form a notion quite comprehensive of what may be regarded as placing and keeping men's minds in an enslaved state, we should include ignorance and all error through which they receive injury, together with all perversion in the passions, and all that perverts them. Now against all this in its full breadth, truth, universal truth, is opposed ; and BY KNOWLEDGE OF THE TRUTH. 115 the effectual application of truth would count- eract and reverse it all. But this would be far too wide a subject. Our Lord was speaking of what divine truth would do ; and especially the evangelic part of it. It would make them free in those points wherein their bondage is their greatest cala- mity. Previously to adverting to a few of those most important points, we may observe, that there are some things wherein the truth merely, the truth simply admitted in the understanding, goes far towards affecting the emancipation; things where the chief strength of the enslave- ment is in a delusion on the judgment. Some such things have happily left us, as a nation, in a great measure free. It would not be imper- tinent to specify here (for it was an evil bearing mischievously on religion) that faith ID. judicial astrology, which bound and oppressed the minds of many of our ancestors. It interfered fatally with the right notions and feelings respecting the government of divine providence, yet held a strong and gloomy dominion in multitudes of minds, in ages not far remote ; and not the vulgar only, but some of the thinking and learned, and even some that professed to revere i 2 116 SPIRITUAL FREEDOM PRODUCED the true religion. Now this gloomy tyranny had nearly its whole strength in the belief of its slaves, and therefore could not survive the belief, that the heavenly bodies had a power of good and evil over human affairs ; and therefore under the operation of increasing general knowledge, and of direct science, it has been annihilated. We may add another example in idolatry, in its grosser forms. Let men simply admit into their understandings the truth that the objects in surrounding nature, or the figures themselves have made of metal, stone, wood, or clay, are no gods, and there is an end of the idolatry ! It may at the same time be the fact that even this simple intellectual conviction has seldom been effected but through the intervention of the true religion. In the case again of the popish superstitions, let the mere truth become apparent to men's understanding, let them become convinced in opinion that such and such practices are erroneous, and they will so far be " made free." (Recount a few points.) It is very true with respect to such things as have been here specified, that it was a matter of very great and tedious difficulty to obtain the admission of the truth into men's understand- BY KNOWLEDGE OF THE TRUTH. 117 ings. So implicated and combined had the de- lusions become with their passions, habits, in- terests, and institutions. But still, as soon as the truth really was admitted the thing was done. It is true enough, that these forms of tyranny under which men's minds have been enslaved, came to attain their dominion over the understanding through an operation on the passions, interests, or fancy, while the reason was dark, feeble, and submissive. But they could never have established their dominion without beguiling the judgment, without pos- sessing themselves of the reason of man, such as it was, and after it was unbeguiled, these things had not in them that which could still, and by another power, hold the mind a slave. But though men's minds should, through the power of truth, enjoy a full freedom from all such modes of slavery as these, there are other ways in which it may be most deplorably held in chains. What is it but a sad captivity if there be something that fixes the soul in aliena- tion from God? And even thus it is, by the corrupt state of our nature. The Bible says so, a hundred tunes over ; but if it did not, there is the evident matter of fact. The mind naturally does not love God. It does not love to think 118 SPIRITUAL FREEDOM PRODUCED of him ; it turns away from the unwelcome sub- ject; it does not love to perceive and acknow- ledge his presence in all places and times. It does not seek communication with him. It does not find nor seek its happiness in pleasing him. It revolts from his will and commands. It has not the least wish to go to a world, where it might have a fuller manifestation of him, and be more intimately in communion Avith him. But all this would be the glorious going out, if we may so express it, of the soul toward its supreme good; toward its perfection; its noblest exercise, its divinest felicity, the verification of its liberty ! But then there is something that malignantly holds it back, and presses and degrades it down. And what a dreadful bondage is that! How inexpressibly desirable is something to " make it free !" It is " the truth" that must " make it free." But here the case is not as in those forms of mental bondage we specified before. The truth merely admitted in the understanding, however distinctly and decidedly, will not suffice. With- out it, certainly, nothing can be done, but alone it will leave the great work uneffected. The truth appropriate to the purpose must be that God is transcendently worthy of all love and BY KNOWLEDGE OF THE TRUTH. 119 devotion the infinite perfection of all excellen- cies united and that it is the happiness, as well as duty of his rational creatures, to be de- voted to him in adoration, affection, and willing obedience. Well! these truths may be pre- sented to the understanding with luminous evi- dence ; it may see that the evidence is decisive, and that is to admit conviction. But still, the moral part of the soul, the affections, the will, may not come into the assent; the moral part is held still under a malignant and adverse do- minion ; the soul therefore is not " made free." And here is the grand and urgent occasion for the Spirit of God to work, to transfuse a new and redeeming principle through the moral be- ing, and then the man is free ! The freed spirit feels that a hateful, direful enchantment is broken, and flies to its God. Again, the love of sin is a miserable and dreadful enslavement. Suppose a man, bound by some strong coercion in a servile connexion with a malignant but specious lord who sets him to one occupation and another, with a mockery of making it delightful at first, but still turning it into painful drudgery : showing him dainties, letting him taste and then snatch- ing them away, or mingling something bitter 120 SPIRITUAL FREEDOM PRODUCED and nauseous; smiling and acting the villain; overruling and frustrating him in any design or attempt at escape ; subjecting him to still greater grievances the longer he remains; and at length reducing him to utter degradation and contempt! This is but a faint simile for the slavery of sin. It is a wretched bondage. It lets not the man have any command of himself. It pleases him, but as by way of holding him fast to plague him. And after it pleases him less, through loss of novelty and a less lively relish, it seems to retain a still firmer hold of him. How much of " the truth" is forced on him by his own wretched experience, in vain ! Still " the truth" is the grand mean for his rescue. But not the mere dry admission of it in his understanding ; for that may be, and his chains be on him still. He may, in this sense, " hold the truth in unrighteousness." There must be the agency of the Spirit of God, making an irresistible application of the truth, making it go through all his moral being ; cre- ating an aversion to the very nature of sin, as well as a horror of its consequences ; and then what a glorious emancipation ! To behold the legion of the former tyrants prostrate, and the chief monster (the great besetting sin), as if struck with heaven's lightning ! BY KNOWLEDGE OF THE TRUTH. 121 We might again name the old topic, the pre- dominant love of this world. It were endless to dilate on this, regarded in the light of a sad slavery, and why so, but that the proofs and modes are endless ? But take the plain compre- hensive idea, an immortal spirit so set upon that which can be nothing to it longer than the lapse of a few fleeting years, as to disregard and lose the happiness of eternity ! In this there is so much truth habitually trifled with, that the liberation is a most mighty work for the truth to accomplish. It is for the Divine Spirit to present and keep the two objects manifest be- fore the mind in their stupendous contrast, and at the same time to impart a new principle of preference ; without this latter, the mind would only be overpowered by that contrast ; its real taste might remain the same. One other form of bondage, for the truth to deliver from, is often spoken of in the New Testament, namely, that which some thought- ful, conscientious, anxious minds suffer, in not having come clearly off from the ground of the divine law as that of their acceptance with God. They attribute great importance and value, and some undefined degree of efficacy, to both the sacrifice and the righteousness of Christ. But 122 SPIRITUAL FREEDOM PRODUCED still as God's government and judgment are constituted upon his perfect and eternal law, that continually comes in upon them, and pre- sents its menaces and its terrors. And well might they be terrified, even to utter despair, if this were the ground of their acceptance with God. But here comes in the evangelic truth which declares us totally removed off this ground for justification and salvation, because on it salvation is plainly and absolutely impos- sible. " The truth" declares a new and extra- ordinary economy, in which it is appointed that the Mediator's merit is all-sufficient and alone. And this is to be laid hold of, and relied upon by faith; thus a glorious freedom will be ef- fected. Lastly, there is the bondage of the fear of death. This bondage needs no illustration. Look at the general feelings of mankind; let each reflect on his own! But imagine these feelings substantially reversed. Is not that a sublime freedom ? The Christian truth and He that brought it from heaven, came to confer this freedom. Combine in thought all these kinds of freedom, and think whether we shall be content to live in miserable captivity ! Think whether it be possible for our being to BY KNOWLEDGE OF THE TRUTH. 123 be thrown more completely away, than by a stupid indifference, or a protracted delay in regard to the attainment of so divine a de- liverance ! March 25, 1822. LECTURE IX. ON FORMALITY AND REMISSNESS IN PRAYER. JOB xv. 4. Thou restrainest prayer before God. THIS is one of the many censures that Job's friends passed upon him. We must think that this was not a just charge in the instance to which it was applied. But, if it had been true, as a fact, it surely would have fixed on Job a sentence of guilt. He could not be convicted of the fact without being convicted of sin. For, we do not expect to hear it asserted that prayer is no duty. Whatever the practice may seem to say, there will seldom be an avowal in words, of this opinion. Nevertheless, such an assertion has been ventured, and by persons not formally and absolutely avowing rejection and contempt of religion ; nay, even pretending perhaps to render the greater honour to the ON FORMALITY AND REMISSNESS IN PRAYER. 125 divine Majesty, to acknowledge in a more en- lightened manner Ws sovereignty, wisdom, and goodness. They have said, " It were idle and impious to imagine that representations made from us should direct the divine wisdom, or have any influence on the divine determinations ; therefore to petition is at least absurd." Now, even though no valid answer could be made to this, one would be irresistibly per- suaded that persons dwelling with compla- cency on such an argument, cared, for the most part, very little about the divine mercy. Those that did so care, would, in spite of the argument, be continually prompted to pray, and would regret to think it should be improper, or be in vain. But answers are not wanting. To a believer in revelation, it is answer enough that prayer is most positively enjoined, as a primary duty of religion ; a duty strictly in itself, as the proper manner of acknowledg- ing the supremacy of God, and our dependence. Let it be added, that it has been the universal practice of devout men from the earliest time till the present hour ; and practised the most by the men incontestably the most pious and holy. But, if there were any force in the 126 ON FORMALITY AND supposed objection, we do not see how these good men could be acquitted of gross impiety. But independently of these considerations (of the divine injunctions, and of the constant prac- tice of the best men), we might take the matter on more general grounds, and observe that prayer cannot be discountenanced on any prin- ciple which would not repress and condemn all earnest religious desires. Consider the exercise of thought and affection in a mind deeply con- cerned about religion. It dwells upon the thought of the divine favour, " how glorious a felicity to enjoy that ! " But, then, an earn- est desire arises, " Oh let it be mine ! " It dwells upon the redeeming work of Christ ; and the desire is, " Let me be interested in it, to its whole glorious extent ! " Or upon the pardon of sin ; the purification of a corrupt nature ; divine guidance, illumination, and pro- tection ; and the desire is, " Let these be granted to me ; " Now consider these desires ; they are indulged under the direct sense of the presence and observance of God, and are the more fervently indulged, the more impressive is that sense, and indulged with a complacency in the thought that he knows them. But, would it not be absurd to indulge them, if it be REMISSNESS IN PRAYER. 137 absurd to express them ? And worse than ab- surd, for what are they less (according to the objection) than impulses to control the divine determinations and conduct? For these de- sires will absolutely ascend toward Him. But we all know that these desires are good, nay, that they are vital and essential to religion, insomuch that the degree in which they prevail in the soul, is the degree in which religion pre- vails there. But if these feelings be the essen- tial spirit of religion, it is consistent that they be carried into a direct act of religion, namely prayer. Again, it is the grand object to augment these desires. Well then, here too is evidence in favour of prayer. For it must operate to make them more strong, more vivid, more solemn, more prolonged, and more definite as to their objects. Forming them into ex- pressions to God will concentrate the soul in them, and upon these objects. Soliciting to them by an express act, the immediate atten- tion of the Almighty Intelligence, must com- bine them with the feeling regarding Hun ; it must partly have the same effect as if we were expecting to be soon placed in his pre- sence by death. 128 ON FORMALITY AND Again, as to the objection that we cannot alter the divine determinations, and, that if the things desired are proper to be given to us, he will give them, and if not so, he will not; it may well be supposed, that it is accord- ing to the divine determinations that good things shall not be given to those that will not petition for them; that there shall be this expression of dependence, and acknowledgment of the divine supremacy ; that they (those that will not petition) are, by this proof, in no proper state of mind to receive the good gifts ; that he has made it an indispensable circum- stance, a condition, that they shall pray for them, in order to obtain. On general grounds of reason this may well be supposed to be the case ; but the moment we turn to revela- tion we find that it actually is so. " I will yet for this be inquired of by the house of Israel to do it for them." And doubtless experience and fact would bring a full testimony to the same effect. Suppose two men to pass through life, both acknowledging that all good must come from God. But the one acts on the sort of philosophic principle that disowns prayer ; the Other habitually and fervently petitions the Almighty, in the name of Jesus Christ. We REMISSNESS IN PRAYER. 129 may refer it to any man to judge of the com- parative account of what these two respectively will have obtained by the time they come to the end of life. We might also refer it to any man, which of the situations he would prefer to be in, in looking forward to that period. But we need not have enlarged on such a matter as the assertion of the propriety 'of prayer. (Paley, Price, &c.) It may be pre- sumed we are under the full and irresistible conviction that men ought to implore the mer- cies of "the God of heaven;" that this is an homage absolutely due to Him; and that for ourselves it is indispensable, and infinitely beneficial. If we could go deep enough in thought, it would strike us as an amazing and inexpressibly delightful circumstance, in the economy of the Almighty Being, that there is an assigned ground, and a perfectly accessible one, for meeting, immediately, the Supreme Being ; that there is a permission and appointed duty, to such creatures as we are, to speak di- rectly to him, at any time, on any subject. Men speak to one another; some of them may not speak to some others of them; but the least, the humblest, the meanest, may speak to Hun that made and commands all things ! K 130 ON FORMALITY Now then for the manner in which men avail themselves of this most sublime circum- stance in their condition. Let us for one mo- ment suppose that we could be quite unin- formed of the actual state of our race, in this particular respect; knowing only just the general facts that they are rational, account- able, immortal, wholly dependent on the Al- mighty, and every moment experiencing his beneficence ; and knowing also that they have the grand privilege we have described. What might we expect, in conformity to this their condition? now, what? evidently, an univer- sal prevalence of a devotional spirit ; a grateful habitual recourse to their most glorious privi- lege ! Now then let us, by all means, deny the doctrine, and the fact, of the radical de- pravity of human nature, when we come to contemplate the actual state and practice of mankind in respect to the matter in question ; I repeat, let us boldly and firmly deny it, if we can in front of the facts of the case ; (the facts being as follows :) Hundreds of millions are paying homage to insensible substances, phantasms, or devils. Many millions are literally making to them- selves an amusement and a sport of shows and vain ceremonies of a religion pretended to be AND REMISSNESS IN PRAYER. 131 in homage to the true God. But come to what is accounted the most privileged, instructed, and Christianized portion of mankind, our own nation. There are millions of them that prac- tise no worship, no prayer at all, in any manner ; they are entirely " without God in the world." Assemble them in imagination, and look upon them ! To say to but one of these, in the full and entire sense, " Thou re- strainest prayer ! " is pronouncing upon him an awful charge, is predicting an awful doom. But then consider, that to pronounce deliberately but this one short sentence upon each one in our land to whom it is applicable, would take many years ! But then reflect, what it is that you would be pronouncing in each single in- stance. Think what it includes when said of a being standing in such relations as he does to God ; and with death, judgment, and eter- nity before him ! You are pronouncing that, he habitually scorns the Almighty his soul, and the happiness of eternity ; that, he deliberately keeps himself detached from all that could save him from plunging into perdition. Next, if we would cast an all-penetrating look through what is performed under a sem- blance and name of prayer; the slight form- is; 2 132 ON FORMALITY alities of it in private; the public ceremonial performances. Would it not be thejnere affec- tation of charity to doubt whether it be the fact, that a vast majority of the performers never pray at all ? If it might, by Him that knows, be revealed to you in how many instances, a vital earnest breathing of soul goes out to Him, would you not, in terror and pity, decline such knowledge? "Let me not see the proofs against my fellow-mortals, of what I already too sadly believe." But it was not so much our purpose to animadvert on the entire absence of real prayer, as to make a few admonitory observations on the great defectiveness of it in those who do feel its importance, and are not wholly strangers to its genuine exercise. And which of us can assume to stand clearly out of the reach of such admonition ? " Thou restrainest prayer before God." It may well come upon our thoughts to re- flect, how much of this exercise, in its genuine quality, there is or has been in the course of our life habitually. How much do we see marked and distinguished by this sacred colour? How much, as compared with our other exer- cises of mind and speech? There should be AND REMISSNESS IN PRAYER. 133 some proportion in things. A matter of pre- eminent importance should not be reduced to occupy some diminutive insterstices and corners of the active system. A mere worldly-wise man is seen acting on this principle of propor- tion in things. Then, as Christians, how is it with us in this important matter? That which is confessedly the most powerful of all our means and resources for good should not be left nearly out of use, for us to extol the while its great power, and be miserable through a dependence on other means. If the people on the parched tracts along the Nile had a mighty engine for raising the water to irrigate, what would be thought of them for toiling with little earthen vessels, from which the element would almost evaporate while they were carrying it? Now look at our means for good. There is one pre-eminent; is just that the one that lies nearly unemployed? One image of this sort suggests another. The poor, superstitious mul- titudes of India believe that their adored river comes from heaven, and they are consistent. They pant to go to it ; they have recourse to it with eager devotion ; they purify their vessels with it, and themselves ; they consider it a pre- cious element in their food ; they are happy to 134 ON FORMALITY be carried to its banks when dying. Now we know that our grand resource of prayer is a blessed privilege granted from heaven, of a peculiarly heavenly quality, where is our con- sistency, if we are indifferent and sparing in the use of it ? " Thou restrainest prayer before God." Is there a very frequent, or even a prevailing re- luctance to it, so that the chief feeling regard- ing it is but a haunting sense of duty, and of guilt in the neglect ? This were a serious cause for alarm, lest all be wrong within. A con- sciousness like this, is a stronger summons to the very exercise itself than if a host of the dead were to arise to command it. That man is infatuated if he withholds prayer. What thing more urgent can mortal have to crave than this, that he should not have to make out the safety of his state under so fearful a sign ! Is it, in the course of our days, left to uncer- tainties whether the exercise shall be attended to or not ? Is it considered not a positive fixed thing, no more to be dispensed with than the daily bread, or the common recurring offices of life ? Is the case so that a man might be sup- posed to say to himself, " I intend to pray to- day, or this morning, or evening; I hope I AND REMISSNESS IN PRAYER. 135 shall, but I am not certain, I may fail." May you fail? It is, then, too probable that you will! "May you" ? then that may befall you which will teach you what it is to fail of such a duty ! " May you " ? then you may lose the very last opportunity that will ,be granted to you ! Is there a habit of letting come first to be at- tended to, any inferior thing that may offer itself? A man may judge when is the fair and proper time for this exercise. When that time is come shall he wait, as if to see whether any thing else will occur to put in its claim, so that the claim of God should be admitted but on the condition that nothing else shall make a claim ? He will not have waited long before something will come in between, and that will bring some- thing else, and that again some other thing. This great duty is then set aside for an indefi- nite tune, and the disposition lessening at every step, and perhaps the conscience too ; and when he reflects, what reproach and shame may he not often feel to think what he has suffered to set it aside ! And the weight of the reproach should fall, not on the fact merely of the neglect, but on the disposition of mind which could permit it. 136 ON FORMALITY " Thou restrainest prayer before God." " Another time, a later hour, will be much more convenient." How many prayers this de- ception has precluded ! " I shall be in a better tone of feeling ; my thoughts more composed ; there will be less liability to interruption ; such an affair I shall have disposed of, and discharged from my mind. It were even irreverent to ap- proach the divine Majesty just as I now feel." As if that commanded serious effort, required in such approach, were not one of the best ex- pedients for putting the mind in order. And then what does experience say, as to the actual occurrence and improvement of that expected better season ? How soon, commonly, does the seasonable hour come, when the first is easily let to slide by as unseasonable ? Is there a dis- position to give a ready allowance to pleas for deferring or cutting very short? " That will be a fair excuse." " That must be attended to immediately." " To delay that will be a serious evil." " That is a matter of practical duty, for which God will excuse the mental." When in the exercise, a person may detect himself readily recollecting and allowing a call away. What a test of the habitude of the heart is there in all this I AND REMISSNESS IN PRAYER. 137 " Thou restrainest prayer before God." We may specify again. In the interval appropriate to this exercise, a man may defer it till very near what he knows must be the end of the allowed time. He may be under obligatory regulations requiring him to meet certain busi- ness or engagements at nearly a precise time. Now, having this known measured time before him, does he allow himself to pass away the moments that belong to devotion till very near the appointed moment, so that there is time for only a few hurried sentences ? Again, an inconvenient situation for devo- tional exercise, will often be one of the real evils of life. But here let the question be, Is this circumstance readily seized as a plea to conscience for but little practising the solemn exercise ? The man is almost pleased that there is such a ground of excuse, and yet laying the whole blame of the omission or slightness on this cause. This lamentably defective state of mind may be verified again in a mode like this, namely ; " I did not very long since employ some mo- ments in prayer; it will not be necessary so very soon again. For awhile I am free from the pressure of duty." As if the chief use of 138 ON FORMALITY the preceding prayer were its clearing the time forward. The having engaged in a social act of religion may be assumed as a partial excuse for omitting the private exercise, a kind of acquittance ; the share of a social exercise is reckoned enough for the whole tribute from the individual. As if a social tribute were for the purpose of gaining an exemption for each individual. Sometimes the exercise is made very brief from real unqualified want of interest. Or prayer is delayed from the sense of recent guilt. No wonder there should be an indisposition then. But will mere time wear the guilt away? And what will be the best security against renewed sin? Do not defer praying till more guilt come between! Do not, lest death come between ! The charge in the text falls upon the state of feeling which forgets to recognize the value of prayer as an important instrument, shall we call it, in the transactions of life. There may be an acknowledgment, in a general way, of its value, but in practice things are left to ordinary re- sources. The charge falls, too, on the indulgence of cares, anxieties, and griefs, with little recourse AND REMISSNESS IN PRAYER. 139 to this great expedient. We may put the evil charged tinder the final general description, praying but so that there is a consciousness, " This will not do always" This is more than enough for enumeration and description. The few admonitory consider- ations which we might have added, to enforce a reform, can be little necessary, when the evil is so plainly evident. It is a privation of what- ever state and happiness it is, that is imported by " communion with God." How much it foregoes the benefits of the intercession of Christ ! It precludes the disposition to refer to the Divine Being in social communications. It saps a man's moral and Christian courage. It raises a formidable difficulty in the way of recourse to God on urgent occasions and emer- gencies. On the review of such an exposure, we do not adopt any formal language of exhortation. Mere exhortation is never of any use. Such representations and appeals to painful expe- rience are of the essence of exhortation, and here therefore we leave the subject. May 2, 1822. LECTURE X. THE SPRING AND ITS MOEAL ANALOGIES. PSALM civ. 30. Thou renewest the face of the earth. SOME time since we were endeavouring to describe certain states or moods of feeling, which might be called seasons of the mind ; and to show in what manner these might by a judi- cious and determined exercise of thought, be turned to an advantageous account. The seasons of external nature, in the course of the year, are a part, and a considerably in- teresting part, of what makes up our condition during our sojourn on this earth ; and good men, from the psalmist downward, have not been content that the effect of these seasons upon them should be confined to the mere external material condition, but have been THE SPRING, ETC. 141 desirous that the vicissitudes of nature should minister to the welfare of the mind. The spring season especially has been regard- ed as fertile of what might afford salutary instruction in a pleasing vehicle. We are now in the very midst of this genial season ; and before its flowers and bloom are past, we might do well to endeavour to draw from it something not quite so transient. The vast importance to us, that this season should regularly and infallibly return in its time, is obvious the instant it is mentioned. But it is not so instantly recollected how entirely we are at the mercy of the God of nature for its return. We are in our places here on the surface of the earth, to wait in total dependence for Him to cause the seasons to visit our abode, as helpless and impotent as particles of dust. If the Power that brings them on, were to hold them back, we could only submit, or repine and perish ! His will could strike with an instant paralysis the whole moving system of nature. Let there be a suspension of his agency and all would stop ; or a change of it, and things would take a new and fearful course! Yet, we are apt to think of the certainty of the return of the desired 142 THE SPRING season, in some other light than that of the cer- tainty that God will cause it to come. With a sort of passive irreligion we allow a something, conceived as an established order of nature, to take the place of the Author and Ruler of nature, forgetful that all this is nothing but the continually acting power and will of God ; and that nothing can be more absurd than the notion of God's having constituted a system to be, one moment, independent of himself. Consider next, this beautiful vernal season ; what a gloomy and unpromising scene and season it arises out of? It is almost like crea- tion from chaos ; like life from a state of death. If we might be allowed in a supposition so wide from probability, as that a person should not know what season is to follow, while contem- plating the scene, and feeling the rigours of winter, how difficult it would be for him to comprehend or believe that the darkness, dreari- ness, bleakness, and cold the bare, desolate, and dead aspect of nature could be so changed. If he could then, in some kind of vision, behold such a scene as that now spread over the earth he would be disposed to say, " It cannot be ;" " this is absolutely a new creation, or another world!" AND ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. 143 Might we not take an instruction from this, to correct the judgments we are prone to form of the divine government ? We are placed within one limited scene and period of the great succession of the divine dispensations a dark and gloomy one a prevalence of evil. We do not see how it can be, that so much that is offensive and grievous, should be introductory to something delightful and glorious. " Look, how fixed ! how inveterate ! how absolute ! how unchanging ! is not this a character of perpetuity?" If a better, nobler scene to fol- low is intimated by the spirit of prophecy, in figures analogous to the beauties of spring, it is regarded with a kind of despondency, as if prophecy were but a kind of sacred poetry ; and is beheld as something to aggravate the gloom of the present, rather than to draw the mind forward in delightful hope. And so we allow our judgments of the divine government, (of the mighty field of it, and of its pro- gressive periods,) to be formed very much upon an exclusive view of the limited, dark portion of his dispensations which is immediately pre- sent to us I But such judgments should be corrected by the spring blooming around us, so soon after the gloomy desolation of winter. 144 THE SPRING The man that we were supposing so ignorant and incredulous, what would he now think of what he had thought then ? Again, how welcome are the early signs, and precursory appearances of the spring; the earlier dawn of day ; a certain cheerful cast in the light, even though still shining over an expanse of desolation, it has the appearance of a smile ; a softer breathing of the air, at inter- vals ; the bursting of the buds ; the vivacity of the animal tribes ; the first flowers of the season ; and by degrees, a delicate dubious tint of green. It needs not that a man should be a poet, or a sentimental worshipper of nature, to be delighted with all this. May we suggest one analogy to this ? The operation of the Divine Spirit in renovating the human soul, effecting its conversion from the natural state, is sometimes displayed in this gentle and gradual manner, especially in youth. In many cases, certainly, it seems violent and sudden (resembling the transition from winter to spring in the northern climates) ; but, in the more gradual instances, whether in youth or further on in life, it is most gratifying to per- ceive the first indications, serious thoughts and emotions growing sensibility of conscience ANT) ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. 145 distaste for vanity and folly deep solicitude for the welfare of the soul a disposition to exer- cises of piety a progressively clearer, more grateful, and more believing apprehension of the necessity and sufficiency of the work and sacrifice of Christ for human redemption. To a pious friend, or parent, this is more delightful than if he could have a vision of Eden, as it bloomed on the first day that Adam beheld it. But we may carry the analogy into a wider application. It is most gratifying to perceive the signs of change on the great field of society. How like the early flowers, the more benig- nant light the incipient verdure, are the new desire of knowledge, and the schemes and efforts to impart it the rising, zealous, and rapidly enlarging activity to promote true reli- gion; we may add, the development of the principles and spirit of liberty. In this moral spring, we hope we are advanced a little way beyond the season of the earliest flowers. The next observation on the spring season is, how reluctantly the worse gives place to the better ! While the winter is forced to retire, it is yet very tenacious of its reign; it seems to make many efforts to return ; it seems to hate the beauty and fertility that are supplanting it. L 146 THE SPRING For months we are liable to cold, chilling, pes- tilential blasts, and sometimes biting frosts. A portion of the malignant power lingers or returns to lurk, as it were, under the most cheerful sunshine ; so that the vegetable beauty remains in hazard, and the luxury of enjoying the spring is attended with danger to persons not in firm health. It is too obvious to need pointing out, how much resembling this there is in the moral state of things ; in the hopeful advance and improvement of the youthful mind, in the early and indeed the more ad- vanced stages, of the Christian character, and in all the commencing improvements of human society. We may contemplate next, the lavish, bound- less diffusion, riches, and variety of beauty in the spring. Survey a single confined spot, or pass over leagues ; or look from a hill. Infinite affluence every where. And so you know, too, that it is over a wide portion of the globe at the same time. It is under your feet ; extends all around you ; spreads out to the horizon. And all this created within a few weeks ! To every observer the immensity, variety, and beauty are obvious. But to the perceptions of the skilful naturalist all this is indefinitely multiplied. AND ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. 147 Reflect, what a display is here of the boundless resources of the Great Author. He flings forth, as it were, an unlimited wealth; a deluge of beauty ; immeasurably beyond all that is strictly necessary ; an immense quantity that man never sees, not even in the mass. It is true, that man is not the only creature for which the gratification is designed; but it is man alone, of the earth's inhabitants, that can take any account of it as beauty, or as wisdom, and power, and goodness. Such unlimited pro- fusion may well assure us that He who can (shall we say) afford thus to lavish treasures so far beyond what is simply necessary, can never fail of resources for all that is or ever shall be necessary. May we not venture to think that this vast Miperfluity of pleasing objects, conferred on this temporary abode of our feeble and sinful exist- ence, may be taken as one of the intimations of a grand enlargement of faculties in another state? We may assume that in any world to which good men shall be assigned, there will be an immense affluence of the wonderful works of the Almighty. And shall there not be such an enlargement of capacity and perception that there shall be (if we may express it so) a less L 2 148 THE SPRING waste of those admirable works ? We would be willing to suppose that there may be a less proportion of them placed beyond the power of attention ; less that should seem to answer no end to the devout contemplator. We may observe again, on this profusion and diversity of beauty, what an ample provision it is for those faculties in our nature, which are not to be accounted the highest and noblest. The mere organs of sense, receive immediately their pleasing influences. Through those com- bined susceptibilities of our blended constitu- tion of body and mind, which we call taste, we have pleasurable perceptions of beauty, grace, harmony, grandeur. And the imagination has a large share of the enjoyment. All this is most evidently an intended adaptation. It is good, therefore, that man should have the exer- cise, the cultivation, and the pleasure of these faculties. What the proper regulation and limits may be and how to adjust the propor- tion and the balance between these and higher interests and pleasures is a matter for con- scientious judgment. But the general fact is most obvious that the Creator intended the exercise and gratification of faculties for which he has made such copious provision. AND ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. 149 But it is a serious consideration here, that the value and the final object of this exercise and pleasure are lost, if they do not tend to and combine with religion ; if a man observes, and admires, and enjoys, and is enchanted with the fine feeling, and all the while forgets the adorable and beneficent Author; or feels no veneration or grateful aspiring of soul toward Him. Our relation to Him is our supreme and most vital interest, and the interest of every other relation is meant to be coincident, subor- dinate, and contributory. The disregard of this great law comes under the condemnation of "loving the creature more than the Creator who is blessed for ever." Much of this impiety there is, among the admirers of the beauties of nature and of the spring. It is no mere ficti- tious character if we exemplify thus a man of cultivated mind, vividly perceptive faculties, refined taste and poetic fancy, straying among the vernal fields and groves with a fond en- chantment, with a sentiment for each flower and blooming shrub, and singing bird, and gay insect; diffusing his soul in fine sympathy with all that smiles around him, but with no recognition of Him that creates and animates the scene ! All that scene is no more than a 150 THE SPRING reflection of a few rays of the divine glory. But this admirer looks not toward the bright Reality. He takes this faint reflection as if it were itself the essential beauty and glory, and cannot see how it fades and perishes when impiety like this comes between it and heaven. In some instances, as by a judicial retribution, the man is permitted to consummate his impiety by making Nature his God; fancying some kind of mysterious, all-pervading, yet not intel- ligent spirit, which ejects the Divinity and takes his place. To return to the consideration of the spring. This pleasant season has always been regarded, as obviously presenting an image of youthful life. The newness, liveliness, fair appearance, exuberance of the vital principle, rapid growth such are the flattering points of likeness. But there are also less pleasing circumstances of resemblance, the frailty and susceptibility, so peculiarly liable to fatal injury from inauspi- cious influences, blights, diseases. Those who have to watch over infancy, childhood, and early youth, can often see, in smitten plants and flowers, the emblems of what they have to fear for their charge. There is the circumstance, that the evil in AND ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. 151 the human disposition can grow even faster than the good ; as in spring, the weeds, the useless and noxious vegetables, the offensive or venomous animals thrive as well as the useful and salutary productions; and that too, not only without attention to assist them, but in spite of efforts to repress or extirpate them. There is the circumstance, that it is yet to be proved whether the early season will have its full value ultimately; whether fair and hopeful appearances and beginnings will not end in a mortifying disappointment. How many a rich bloom of the trees comes to nothing ! How many a field of corn promising in the blade, disappoints in the harvest ! Under this point of the analogy, the vernal human beings are a subject for pensive, for almost melancholy contemplation. There is one specially instructive point of resemblance. Spring is the season for diligent cultivation ; so is youth. What if the spring were suffered to go past without any cares and labours of husbandry? But see how the par- allel season of human life is in numberless in- stances, consumed away under a destitution of the discipline requisite to form a rational being to wisdom, goodness, and happiness ; through 152 THE SPRING the criminal neglect of those who have the charge and the accountableness, and the almost infallibly consequent carelessness of the un- disciplined creatures themselves. One shall not seldom be struck with the disparity be- tween these two provinces of cultivation. The garden shall be put in neat order, the fruit-tree trimmed and trained; the corn-field exhibiting a clean shining breadth of green; the children and youth bearing every mark of mental and moral rudeness. On the contrary, it is delightful to see the spring season of life advancing under such a cultivation, of the instructor's care, of con- scientious self-tuition, and of divine influence, as to give good hope of rich ensuing seasons. A part of the pleasure imparted by the beauty of the spring is, whether we are exactly aware of it or not, in an anticipation of what it is to result in. And though, as we have said, there is much for uncomplacent presentiment in be- holding the bloom, animation, and unfolding faculties of early life, yet they who are affec- tionately interested in the sight, are insensibly carried forward in imagination to the virtues and accomplishments which they are willing to foresee in the mature and advanced states. AND ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. 153 It may be added, as one more point in this parallel, that the rapid passing away of the peculiar beauty of spring, gives an emblem of the transient continuance of the lively and joyous period of human life. We have seen that they are not all pleasing ideas that arise hi the contemplation of the ver- nal season. There is one of a profoundly gloomy character, that of the portentous general con- trast between the beauty of the natural, and the deformity of the moral world. A corres- pondence seems to be required hi things which are associated together. Survey then the fair scene (such as on this day) and think what kind of beings, to correspond to it, the rational in- habitants ought to be; (not a few, a small inter- mingled portion, but the general race.) Would not the conception be, innocence, ingenuous- ness, all the kind and sweet affections, bright refined thought, spontaneous advancement in all good, piety to heaven? But now look on the actual fact and that, without going so far off as those fine tracts of the earth where man is the most cruel and fero- cious of the wild beasts that infest them. See, in these more civilized regions, the coarse de- basement the selfishness the ill tempers and 154 THE SPRING malignant passions the hostile artifices the practices of injustice the obstinacy in evil habits the irreligion, both negative and daring- ly positive ! Within the memory of many of us, how much of the vernal beauty of Europe, every year, has been trodden down under the feet, or blasted by the ravages of hostile armies ; how many a blooming bower has given out its odours mingled with the putrid effluvia of human [creatures killed by one another ! Such is the correspondence of the inhabitants to the beautiful scenery of their dwelling place ! The fair luxury of spring serves to bring out, more prominently, the hideous features of the moral condition ! But even if we could keep out of view this directly moral contrast, there are still other cir- cumstances of a gloomy colour. Amidst this glowing life of the vernal season, there are languor, and sickness, and infirm old age, and death. While nature smiles, there are many pale countenances that do not. Sometimes you have met, slowly pacing the green meadow or the garden, a figure emaciated by illness, or feeble with P age ; and were the more forcibly struck by the spectacle as seen amidst a luxuri- AND ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. 155 ance of life. For a moment, you have felt as if all the living beauty faded or receded from around, in the shock of the contrast. You may have gone into a house beset with roses and all the pride of spring, to see a person lingering and sinking in the last feebleness of mortality. You may have seen a funeral train passing through a flowery avenue. And the ground which is the depository of the dead, bears, not the less for that, its share of the beauty of spring. The great course of nature pays no regard to the particular circumstances of man; no suspen- sion, no sympathy. We will note but one more grave considera- tion. To a person in the latter stages of life, if destitute of the sentiments and expectations of Religion, this world of beauty must lose its captivations ; it must even take a melancholy aspect. For, what should strike him so directly and forcibly as the thought, that he is soon to leave it ? It may even appear too probable that this is the last spring season he shall be- hold; while he looks upon it, he may feel an intimation that he is bidding it adieu. His paradise is retiring behind him; and what but a dreary immeasurable desert is before him? This will blast the fair scene while he surveys THE SPRING it, however rich its hues and the sunshine that gilds it. On the contrary, and by the same rule; this fair display of the Creator's works and resources will be gratifying, the most and the latest, to the soul animated with the love of God, and the confidence of soon entering on a nobler scene. "Let me," he may say, "look once more at what my Divine Father has diffused even hither, as a faint intimation of what he has somewhere else. I am pleased with this as a distant outskirt, as it were, of the Paradise toward which I am going." Though we are not informed of the exact manner of a happy existence in another state, assuredly there will be an ample and eternal exercise of the faculties on the wondrous works of the Almighty, and therefore a mode of per- ception adapted to apprehend their beauty, harmony, and magnificence. It is not for us to conjecture whether good spirits corporeally detached from this world, are therefore withdrawn from all such relation to it, or knowledge of it, as would admit of their retaining still some perception of the material beauty and sublimity displayed upon it by the Creator. But it may well be presumed that in AND ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. 157 one region or other of his dominions, the intel- lectual being will be empowered with a faculty to perceive every order of phenomena in which his glory is manifested. If we think of an angel traversing this earth, though he has not our mode of apprehending this fair vision of Spring, it were absurd to suppose that, there- fore, all this material grace and splendour is to him obliterated, blank, and indifferent. We shall not then believe that any change which shall elevate the human spirit, will by that very fact, destroy, as to its perception, admiration, and enjoyment, any of the characters on the works of God. We hastily close the contemplation by ob- serving, what an immensity of attainable in- terest and delight, of one class only (besides the sublimer,) there is, that may be lost, and all is lost, if the soul be lost ! May 27, 1822. LECTUKE XL THE DESTRUCTION OF SODOM AND GOMORRAH. GENESIS xviii., xix. And the Lord appeared to him in the plains of Mamre : and he sat in the tent door in the heat of the day, fyc. WE just now read the nineteenth chapter of Genesis, containing the narrative of the de- struction of Sodom and Gomorrah, and other cities of the vale of Siddim. At our last meeting of this kind we made some reflections on the beauty spread over the earth, especially in the season of spring. And, as one of those reflections, it was very obvious to note the sad contrast between the beauty of nature, and the moral quality mingled through the scene. There is no need of ancient and foreign illustrations ; but a very striking one is that Vale of Siddim. Lot had beheld it " as the garden of the Lord" (Gen. xiii. 10), and SODOM AND GOMORRAH. 159 was so captivated, that he chose it for his sojourn, even with the certainty that " his righteous soul" must be " vexed." Think of a region blooming and smiling in all the riches of nature ; on every hand something to raise the contemplative thought to the glo- rious Creator; something, it might be sup- posed, to refine and harmonize the sentiments ; and a copious fertility of supply, to make every tract speak the bounty of providence. But amidst all this, what was MAN? A hideous assemblage of beings, " sensual devil- ish," such as might almost be conceived to have been thrown up from the infernal realms, to go down again in an earthquake and tempest of fire ! The wickedness was so aggravated and extreme, that the region itself was doomed to perish with the inhabitants. As if divine jus- tice could not permit to remain under the face of heaven, the very ground which had been pol- luted by such a race ! Beautiful scenery re- mained, spread over the world ; but one portion was sunk and vanished for ever. The natural beauty, and the human wickedness were both struck out of the world at one tremendous blow. At that one spot it is far toward four thousand years since nature bloomed and man sinned, for the last time ! 160 THE DESTRUCTION OF So terrible a judgment and warning, how- ever, has not prevented sin from infecting ever since, the fair field of nature; and it is this which spoils the beauty of the scene. This thing that spoils it so, is incomparably stronger and more intense in its quality of deformity, than the other is in its quality of beauty. That there is a luxuriant verdure, that there are flowers rich fields fruitful trees pleasing sounds, and tastes, and odours streams soft gales picturesque landscapes what is all this as set against the other fact, that there are in almost infinite mass, and number, and variety bad dispositions and passions bad principles wicked thoughts vile language impieties and crimes of all possible kinds? We are not forgetting that there are also better things than these in the moral world ; but of these there is enough to form an overwhelming contrast to all that which could make the world look " as the garden of the Lord." So that on the suppo- sition (if we might be allowed such an idea) that all the sin could become a visible thing, a thing palpable to the senses, in forms and cha- racteristics duly representing its odious and dreadful quality, it would blast and overpower in our view all the beauty of nature. SODOM AND GOMORRAH. 161 It may be that " the angels of the Lord," so much spoken of in this early part of the Bible, and throughout it may have such a power and mode of apprehension, as to behold sin hi as palpable a manifestation, here on earth, as the face and forms of the material world itself; except perhaps sin as latent within the soul. But they would hardly need the exquisite in- tuition, and the capacity of angelic faculty, to apprehend the character of a scene like that of Sodom and Gomorrah. Wicked as all the nations of those lands were, the people of this one tract appear to have surpassed the rest in atrocity. " The Lord said, the cry of Sodom and Gomorrah is great, and their sin is very grievous." The insults to heaven, had, as it were, come up with a strength, and loudness, and outrage, greater than from other parts of the earth. It was time for the righteous Go- vernor to manifest himself. And as the first circumstance, three persons came as on a friendly visit to Abraham. Both at this point of the relation, and afterwards, it is impossible not to be struck with the calmness and quietness of the proceeding. There were no terrible portents no magnificent phenomena no thundering menaces nor formidable pre- M 162 THE DESTRUCTION OF parations nor effulgence of Divine Majesty. The patriarch's hospitality was accepted. The first thing unusual was a matter of complacent interest, a renewed assurance of posterity to Abraham. But to think what this friendly con- verse was the introduction to ! It was not for heavenly beings to stay long in direct intercourse with mortals. And besides, there was something else to be done ! " The men rose up from thence and looked toward Sodom" (Gen. xviii. 16), that is, set out that way, Abraham accompanying them some way from his house. By this time it was signified to him, that there was an awful and immediate design against those cities ; and this led to that- memorable intercessory conversation in which the patriarch pleaded for Sodom. It was not solely on Lot's account, for he might have pleaded for his exemption. We are left in the dark as to one circum- stance here. Only two of the persons went on to Sodom, leaving Abraham to converse with the Almighty. The third disappears from our view ; unless he was a manifestation of the divine Being himself, and the same that Abra- ham conversed with in that solemn character. This is left entirely in uncertainty. But SODOM AND GOMORRAH. 163 evidently it was with God himself that Abra- ham held the conversation. That conversation may suggest some points of instruction. For example ; we ought not to be gratified with the sufferings and punishments of the wicked. There is sometimes a temptation to this ; espe- cially when the wicked are seen in great pride, and wealth, and power arrogating all things, to themselves, rioting in the spoils of their fellow mortals, trampling with scorn on the weak or the just ; and at the same time dif- fusing moral corruption widely around. We are tempted to look forward with something like complacency to the awaiting vengeance. But this is not the spirit of Christ, nor the spirit of Abraham. The very best men will exceed all others in benevolent concern for the worst. Again, Abraham ventures an appeal to the divine equity. " Shall not the judge of all the earth do right ?" Observe, it is impossible to contemplate the divine attributes without form- ing some idea of what it is that is right for such a Being. We must necessarily form our con- ceptions of what is justice and goodness in the Supreme Being, upon the principles which he has declared to us, as the essence of those quali- ties in his creatures. So that our judgments of M 2 164 THE DESTRUCTION OP his proceedings will be in analogy to those we form of the actions of men. But in doing this, there is need of great caution and reverential humility, for the plain, ten thousand times re- peated reason, that his proceedings have refer- ence to an immense scale ; they are to be " right" as in an infinitely extended and multi- plied relation of things ; in the midst of which our intellect can compass but an inexpressibly diminutive point. How limited, then, our power of judging of his justice in action. And then, if we think of the divine justice, as an attribute to be appealed to in [behalf of man, that is a formidable idea! Abraham did it, and was not rebuked; but how many times must any man, speaking to the Most High, appeal to his mercy, for once that he can appeal to his justice ! In his praying for himself, the case is so ; and if interceding for the community, the nation, how little dare he rest his plea on the numbers and virtues of good men ! Once more, observe the divine indulgence to the narrow, weak apprehensions of good men. Abraham began his intercession as if he had been bespeaking the benevolence of only some exalted human being, with a kind of pious arti- fice, namely, with a greater number when he SODOM AND GOMORRAH. 165 knew he must descend to a less ; and intending it as a device to smooth the way, and prevent a sudden, decided, indignant negative. God has to pardon in his servants a great deal of such feeling as attributes human qualities and disposi- tions to him. For the sake of "fifty," or of "ten righteous," the Lord would have spared Sodom. What value, then, he must set on the few righteous in the earth ! " For ten's sake ;" one perhaps in a thousand, or possibly in several thousands. For such a proportion of holy fear, love, prayer, and practical purity, he would have spared Sodom. Such a ten would have been barely tolerated in the place would have been scorned and wronged. Yet for their sake the wicked thousands would for a while longer have en- joyed the light of the sun, and the fertility of the plain. But even had there been the ten, what a melancholy spectacle ! The mass and multitude not fit to live even on earth, and only ten fit to be transferred to heaven ! What a distribution in the assignment to the infernal and to the celestial world ! and how deplorable to find the populousness of the earth giving a calculation of the comparative solitude of heaven ! THE DESTRUCTION OP Abraham was come to the last permitted term in the gradation of his pleading. Per- haps he felt an intimation from the awful Being that he must stop here. But even if not, a good man will feel that he must not pray in total contravention to the divine justice. He dare not seek wholly to avert from exercise one grand attribute of the Governor of the world. " A God all mercy is a God unjust ; " under such a Governor the human race would go to the very last possibility of wickedness. Abra- ham was to conclude here, and wait the event. And we may observe, what a perfect certainty he felt that there could not be ten, and the Judge not discern them every one. " Abraham returned to his place," and it was now the afternoon. The people of Sodom little knew what a conversation they had been the subject of. The vain and wicked little know, or think, or care, what fear the devout and righteous may be entertaining for them, or what intercessory supplications they may be making and if they did know, many of them would but scorn such fears and prayers. One righteous man dwelt in Sodom. We never think his conduct wise in going thither. It had one afflictive consequence, namely, that SODOM AND GOMORRAH. 167 some branches of his family were involved in the destruction. Yet there was an overruling Providence in the case. There was to be in Sodom something that was to be saved in the hour of vengeance, to mark in a signal manner the contrast ; to show how infallibly the righte- ous Governor distinguishes; and what value he sets on the fidelity that will not conform to the surrounding wickedness. He would have there "a pearl of great price," to be selected out when the mighty mass should sink into a gulf. Lot was sitting in the gate of the city, in the evening ; on purpose, it is presumed, to receive any respectable stranger who would else be cast away among wicked barbarians. It is not improbable the evening was serene and beauti- ful. We can imagine the setting sun for the last time, throwing a mild and softened radiance on the cities and across the plain ; and numbers of the people gaily sporting in so gentle a light and air ; and no warning by ominous signs and elemental disorder. Nature keeps the secret of her great Governor. If conscience will not alarm the sinners, nothing else shall. But what was there latent in that soft tranquillity ? There was there the hovering power of divine lOO THE DESTRUCTION OP justice the spirit of retribution, just growing to the intensity to reveal itself in resistless flame. Two strangers arrived at the gate carelessly regarded, except by Lot, who "entertained angels unawares." There was no indication who they were, or why they came; there was nothing in their appearance to intimidate, nothing to repress a profligate insolence. Some of the people saw them, but knew not what they saw. No mysterious and apprehensive sentiment was infused by their coming. All was as usual in Sodom, thus far ; and even Lot knew of nothing that was to follow. But the commencement of the tragedy was at hand. The first movement was the tumult before Lot's house ; the assault actuated by the vilest wickedness. Observe, when nations or individuals are ready for ruin they generally are prompt to provoke it, to do that one thing more, which is all that remains wanting. When the train comes to the point, that there is but one more, they are ready for that also. The last sin of a wicked career seems to have hi it a peculiar awfulness. The dreadful effect of all the preceding seemed suspended; it even seemed as if that effect might be averted if the SODOM AND GOMORRAH. 169 completing sin were not added; if the sinner could have stopped short of that! The former sins seemed, as it were, to wait, to throw all their deadly efficacy into the last, to be there converged in destruction. The concluding sin comes immediately to the dread consequence ; it is the one that breaks through into eternity, with all the past sins rushing after it ! And again, it belongs to hardened sin, not to be aware of its own atrocity and danger. These men of Sodom, on the last evening of their lives, challenged the angels of the Lord to battle! "Unawares" they assaulted mighty celestial spirits ; as " unawares" Lot had enter- tained them. It is but a just judgment on persisting, hardened iniquity, that it should be permitted at last to do things of which it is not apprised of the aggravation and the peril. Lot went out to appease the vicious and fu- rious assailants with an offer which he had no right to make (to expose to them his daughters); it showed indeed how sacred he held the rights of hospitality ; but all duties are consistent and compatible. Rather than do one great evil to prevent another, a good man must commit the event to all-powerful providence. But the mat- ter was to be decided after another manner. 1 70 THE DESTRUCTION OP " The two men" drew Lot safe into the house, and smote the people with blindness. Lot would be exceedingly surprised at this; perhaps now for the first tune he began to perceive they were something more than they appeared. Whether it was a total blindness we cannot know ; more likely perhaps, a bewildered baf- fling affection of their sight. However, it did not repress the courage and fierceness of wick- edness. " Small and great" persisted in aiming at the door. If "small" mean youth, it may warrant us to observe, that wicked education very rarely fails to be successful. The house and family were quite secure ; but the two visitants were not come to take or give repose. They declared their commission and purpose ; and that one thing only was first to be done ; Lot must go to his sons-in-law (and their families), and warn them instantly to quit the city. He did so in vain ! No wonder the sons-in-law should despise his warning ; but their wives, his daughters, were of the same mind. They by this time, probably, had lost his God ; and therefore he must lose them. It would be with a sad adieu that he left the house of each. He returned to receive the peremp- tory command to take his own family and in- SODOM AND GOMORRAH. 171 stantly be gone. The angels had calmly waited while he had gone to do his part ; now they were to do theirs. The morning was beginning to appear. " He lingered ; " whether from some degree of unbelief; or from being confused and stupi- fied with amazement and horror. But there was calmness and decision there, though he had none. The angels laid hold on the hands of Lot and his family, " The Lord being merciful unto him." Such a situation displays the contrast between the "immortals" and the feeble spirits clothed in flesh ; on the part of the former the serenity, the entireness of determination, the fulness of might and will for the most tremen- dous agency, and yet the indulgent kindness. The angels led them out of the devoted city. "Escape for thy life; look not behind thee? flee to the mountain, neither tarry thou in all the plain." All this might well be named visible providence. It was the protection of the Al- mighty, and the guardian cares of his angels displayed in exercise, in the visible personal agency of these powerful spirits. But, though there be now no such palpable manifestations, how often may there be in a good man's life, interpositions as critical, and cares no less patient 172 THE DESTRUCTION OP and kind, if the agency were made visible in any one of many conjunctures. And then for his soul there is a series of agency of a still far nobler kind ! A greater Spirit is employed there ! Lot was departing; and it is strange he should not have been willing to remove as far as possible from such a scene as this devoted place was going to be. But*he ventured to entreat he might make his asylum in Zoar, implying in the petition that it might for that purpose be spared. This does look like weak- ness actually becoming presumption, but the wonderfully indulgent reply was, " See, I have accepte'd thee in this thing also ;" and with the addition, " I cannot do any thing till thou be come thither." But the command to hasten forward is finally repeated with a most peremp- tory urgency. It was but for his sake, it had been signified, that the catastrophe was de- layed ; and not for his sake would it be delayed long. The divine vengeance was suspended a little while for the piety and the necessity of a favoured mortal; but it was not to be sus- pended for his trifling or unbelief. The last moments of Sodom were measuring out by the steps of the fugitives across the plain. During SODOM AND GOMORRAH. 173 these moments and this flight, the thoughts of Lot would work in unspeakable amazement. Only a few short hours before, he was sitting at the gate and two men approached, who were invited into his house; an outrage was com- mitted, and then they were angels! A few minutes more, and he was commanded away, with the declaration of a direful immediate doom impending.over all the region. The last impression of their visages, their hands, and their voices, was still on his senses; and he was now impelled on by the dreadful apprehen- sion of hearing or seeing some tremendous sign of commencing destruction. It is quite possible, that in such amazement of spirit he might not even be sensible of the fate of his wife, till he found her wanting at the entrance of Zoar; especially as he did not look back, and she was in the disposition rather to fall behind his steps than to advance before or beside him. For we cannot doubt, that it was her mind that looked back, as well as her eyes. Though very possibly, the mere literal disobe- dience to the injunction would have been fatal. But to lose her so, perhaps much more than midway to the place of refuge, was most mourn- ful. What an admonition to the relatives of a 174 THE DESTRUCTION OF pious person, to go the whole way with him to the eternal refuge ! The reduced family entered Zoar and the sun had risen on the earth. But the two men who had come to Sodom were left there to await this destined moment; to witness, in inaction and contemplation how a wicked multitude began a day of which they were not to see the evening. But could nothing beguile or tempt them away, before the moment for action should arrive ! And will nothing be done to send them away ? One word from their great Master, and they would have fled like the shades of the night ! And shall not one word be sent up to him to implore it? Not one word for this, after the cry of their wickedness had so long ascended to heaven? He "repented" over Nineveh when it listened to the warning voice. But here all was over ! And " the Lord rained fire and brimstone ;" and " an horrible tempest !" What was the precise manner of this fearful catastrophe is beyond our conjecture. From the consequence, as remaining to this hour, it would seem that an earthquake either accom- panied or followed ; but " the fire from heaven" is decidedly indicated as the grand chief agent of the destruction. What descent of fire, how- SODOM AND GOMORRAH. 175 ever, and how such an effect on the earth, none can tell. But we repel that philosophizing spirit, as it would be called, which insists on resolving all the extraordinary phenomena, re- corded in the Old Testament into the effect of merely natural causes as they are called. Xothing can be more contemptible than such presumption of philosophy ; just as if the order of nature had Ijeen constituted by some other and greater Being, and entrusted to the Al- mighty to be administered, under an obligation, never to suspend for a moment, the fixed laws ! Just as if it could not consist with infinite Wis- dom to order a system, so that in particular cases a greater advantage should arise from a momentary deviation than from an invariable procedure ! The people of Sodom had no time for specu- lations ; there was but just time for terror, and conscience, and despair! The images of that hour of destruction we leave to contemplative thought. And only add in conclusion, that our Lord says, there is a still greater guilt, and a more awful destruction, even than theirs ! They will see greater criminals than themselves at the last day ; and from lands where the fire of heaven did not fall ! The man that lives and 176 DESTRUCTION OF SODOM AND GOMORRAH. dies rejecting HIM had better have been ex- posed to the rain of fire and brimstone, and gone down in the horrid gulf of the Vale of Siddim ! June \Qth, 1822. LECTURE XII. ON SOBER-MINDEDNESS. TlTUS ii. 6. Young men likewise exhort to be sober-minded. IT is plain that the exhortation was meant expressly for young men, but when we take the precept in the most general sense which the word in our version (" sober-minded") allows, it may be presumed that young persons of the other sex will consider themselves as quite within the scope of such counsel. We would, therefore, address the exhortation to young persons generally. But, " sober-minded ! " methinks this, at the first sound, is likely to be one of the least pleasing words in the whole language, to many young persons. To them it will seem as if such a word could come only from old, time-worn N 178 ON SOBER-MINDEDNESS. people, whose feelings are dried up into a kind of cold, stiffened prudence, which they wish to have reputed as wisdom; persons who, having suffered the extinction of all vivacity in them- selves, envy the young for possessing what they have lost. The word may have suggested ideas of some- thing heavy, spiritless, formal, and calculating ; almost mechanical in all pursuits and interests ; the image of a person narrow in his notions, plodding in his operations, placed wholly out of sympathy with every thing partaking of ardour, sensibility, adventure, or enthusiasm; and at the same time taking to himself great merit for all this. (Just such a one I have before my mind. Mr. K. " Nonsense, your mental ener- gy!") Are such the ideas that the word " sober-minded" has conveyed to any of the young persons present? What then do you think of him that wrote this injunction, namely St. Paul? Was he such a sample of human character ? (A few brief touches of his descrip- tion.) We may then be perfectly sure that St. Paul's " sober-minded young men " were not to be examples of a sapient formality, of a creep- ing prudence, of extinguished passions, of a cold aversion to animated interests; in short, not ON SOBER-MINDEDNESS. 179 examples of the negation of any thing that is really graceful and excellent in youth. We will therefore presume that a few ad- monitory observations on such a topic will not be unacceptable to young persons. We should attempt to show, what is the right notion of "sober-mindedness;" then apply its principles or rules to some of the circumstances of youth ; and last, suggest a few considerations for the enforcement of that application. What is it that may properly be called "sober- mindedness?" This is to ask, in other words, What is it that we are all charging the want of upon our fellow-mortals, while we are all, on all hands, censuring, reproaching, or ridiculing them for folly, absurdity, extravagance, for run- ning into all extremes, for being the sport of fancies, tempers, and passions? Is there any justice in these invectives, which almost every one is uttering every day? And what is all this the contrary to ? we answer, " Sober-minded- ness." But what is the principle and the cause of the difference? What is it that would reduce men from all this to sober-mindedness? Plainly, the effectual predominance of sound reason. That, then is the general description of sober- mindedness, that there be in habitual exercise 180 ON SOBER-MINDEDNESS. a just judgment of things, and that this judg- ment be in real effective authority. But a little more particularly. There cannot be the required state of mind, unless there be some greater master principles, decidedly fixed in the very habit of thinking and feeling prin- ciples applicable to almost all things in our in- terests and practice principles so general that many special ones will grow out of them for particular application. So that, whether in youth, or any other age, the man shall be, so to speak, a determined and prepared being, has certain positive principles combined of judg- ment and conscience, which are to keep him to a certain state and character, under all circum- stances. We need not attempt to specify many of these principles. One is, that in all things and at all events, God is to be obeyed. Another, that there is the essential distinction of holiness and sin in all conduct, both within the mind, and in external action, and that sin is absolutely a dreadful evil. Another, that that cannot be right long in which there is no self-denial. Another, that must not be done which must be repented of. Another, the future should predominate over the present. ON SOBER-MINDEDNESS. ]81 Such things, we said, must be established firmly and operatively in the mind. But then how can this be without much and frequent exercise of serious thought? Do such principles grow and establish themselves spontaneously ? Alas ! let any young person look into his own mind and see ! Without much of serious thought, therefore, there cannot be "sober- mindedness." And therefore, again, there can- not be this required state of mind, if principles are admitted, or practical determinations adopt- ed, from mere impressions of fancy and feeling, perhaps from some casual situation into which a person is thrown ; perhaps from the pleasing impression made by some new acquaintance, or a friend, while no account is taken of the whole comprehensive view of the matter; nay, per- haps, the judgment actually withheld from attempting this. Thus we can imagine a pro- testant falling into communication with a man like Fenelon charmed with such piety and in- telligence carried by this feeling back into the popish church; no comprehensive view taken of the real character and operations of that church ; no account taken of its essential con- nexion with secularity and ambition, of its general hostility to true religion, of the pre- ', 182 ON SOBER-3IINDEDNESS. vailing worthlessness of its priesthood, of its wicked assumptions, maxims, and impostures, of its infernal persecutions; and of all this being the natural result of its very constitution. Again, no principles can suffice for the true "sober-mindedness" in young persons or any others, unless as consciously held as under the sanction and as having the authority of the Supreme Power. Even supposing them intrin- sically right, what will that merely that avail, amidst the commotion of the passions, the beguilements of immediate interest, the endless besetment of temptations ? Man is not a being to be governed by principles, detached from an over-awing power. Set them in the best array that you can in his mind, to fight the evil powers within, and from without, but refuse them weapons from the armoury of hea- ven ; let no lightning of the divine eye, no thunder of the divine voice, come in testimony and in aid of their operation and how soon they will be overwhelmed and trampled down ! (Like the Israelites when deserted of God in their battles. The very ark of God surrendered to the Pagans.) Always, therefore, it is the earnest solicitude and endeavour of wise men, that the good principles in their minds may be ON SOBER-MINDEDNESS. 183 in full communication with the Almighty. Without this fortification and power of the principles, there cannot be that constancy, and composed firmness, which are the essence of sober-mindedness. For the term must imply a steady tenor of feeling and proceeding, not fluctuating, confused, alternating. And it im- plies a calm independence of spirit and conduct, not at the mercy of the winds and circumstances, the opinions and wills of the surrounding world; which holds one certain plan and aim, right onward through all the causes of interfer- ence and perversion. But how can this be but by the vital connexion of our governing princi- ples with the Unchangeable Spirit ? We must feel in them that His finger is upon us who is " the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever." Again, there cannot be a high degree of that well-ordered state, " sober-mindedness," without the person's forming a sound judgment of his own mind. Because that state implies a strong regulation and government, and how can that be exercised without much insight into the mind that is to be governed? If there be an in- sensibility to the general corruption of the soul, throughout its very nature, how little to the purpose will any scheme of self-government be ! 184 ON SOBER-MINDEDNESS. And then there are the special and peculiar circumstances and tendencies; the particular weaknesses or wrong propensities ; the liability to some one evil in a strong and dangerous degree. Without an attentive and deep cogni- zance of things so important, the person en- joined to maintain sober-mindedness will not at all know what he has to do ; not know against what he has to maintain it. As if a man should undertake to legislate and govern in a country, in ignorance of the quality of the people ; should take it as an easy, straightforward con- cern, with a community of well disposed beings; not know that they were partly Pagans, partly Mahomedans, and the Christians not much better ! We may add a most self-evident thing ; that it is of the essence of sober-mindedness to maintain a systematic strong restraint on the passions, fancy, tempers, appetites. And this was probably the most direct object of the apostle's exhortation to young men. In these respects, it is the very first point of sober-mind- edness for youth to be aware how perilous their condition is. They are pleased that they are in this animated season; but it were very strange, if they should not sometimes reflect on ON SOBER-MINDEDNESS. 185 its circumstances with a degree of alarm. It would be a fine position, doubtless, for a man to stand on a spot where there was a powerful action of all the elements almost close around him; the earth he stood on blooming with flowers water thrown in impetuous falls and torrents on the one side some superb fire near at hand on the other and the winds whirling, as if to exasperate them both; but he would need look carefully to his movements, especially if informed that others carelessly standing there had been whirled into destruction ; or if he saw the fact. Let young persons observe what is actually becoming of those who surrender themselves to their passions and wild propensities. What numbers ! Then, in themselves, observe seri- ously whither these inward traitors and temp- ters really tend; and then think whether soberness of mind be not a pearl of great price, and whether there can be any such thing with- out a systematic self-government. "Whither things tend" we were just now saying ; for it is an essential principle of sober- mindedness to judge of things viewed in their consequences. Every thing tends and leads to something else, which latter thing is caused, or 186 ON SOBER-MINDEDNESS. at least affected, by the preceding. Our whole progressive existence is drawn out, so to speak, upon this succession of consequences. The consequence foreseen will determine, or help to determine, the quality of the thing present. The consequences (in the matters of human spirit and conduct) can be foreseen. They are both natural, and divinely declared. In the view of a thoughtful mind, the series stretches away into remote prospect. How far does it stretch on ? through all life, to death, to judg- ment, into eternity ! The madness, then, of taking a thing just as what it is this hour, day, or even year ! This is a thoughtless folly, not to be excused even in early youth. If youth have been but tolerably instructed in their education, they can understand enough to make it their own fault and their sin, to be insensible or unbelieving when consequences are pointed out to them. It is to young persons that all we have been representing is to be considered as especially addressed. JS T ow, will the inculcation of sober- mindedness, in so many grave particulars, be deemed by them a hard and austere statement of their duty? Then, let them honestly con- sider which of these principles they can do ON "SOBER-MINDEDNESS. 187 without, and yet be safe and happy. Which of them may be safely spared and neglected ? Can they do without a prevalence of sound reason in their minds? Some settled, fixed, master-principles to determine judgment, choice, and conduct ? Serious consideration, for fixing those principles and applying them ? A care not to be misled and carried away by accidental impressions, occasional feelings and slight, par- tial views of a matter ? A sense of the Almighty's sanction and authority in the prin- ciples that are to govern them ? An attentive observation of the condition of their own minds? A habitual restraint on passions and propensities ? A consideration of the conse- quences of things ? These constitute soberness of mind. Now which of these can they safely do without? Let them consider which they would reject, and then consider what will fol- low. Shall it be, the solemn acknowledgment of the divine authority ? or, the necessity of estab- lished principles, thoughtfully adopted and firmly held? or the necessity of a careful government of the passions? or, the looking forward to consequences? But, in truth, it is idle to talk of sparing or rejecting one. For no one of these can be rejected without reject- 188 ON SOBER-MINDEDNESS. ing them all. They will be all adopted by those young persons who are aware what important use they have for them. Young persons of any hopefulness will often have serious thoughts about what is to be the main grand purpose of their life. They will be perfectly aware that there is for the object of their existence, something greater, and higher, and ampler, than any mere pleasures of the youthful season; and than the particular pur- suits in life to which they may be looking for- ward. Immense interests are exhibited before them, as immortal natures. It is for them to consider, whether they will be consigned down just merely to this, to be gay and joyous crea- tures for a few years, and busy ones the rest? Or, whether they shall early in life have a greater purpose and concern, rising above the world, and extending beyond Time. Now here is to be the application of those principles we were endeavouring to illustrate ; and without them we have ample and deplorable manifesta- tion what the notion and purpose of life in young persons will be. But again, this sober-mindedness is quite necessary for the subordinate schemes and pur- suits of life. In the want of it, a young person ON SOBER-MINDEDNESS. 189 may form schemes ill adapted to his character, his qualifications and abilities or his circum- stances. For want of it, many have rushed into wild ill-concerted projects, which have ended disastrously, or frustrated the most laudable designs. What important affair in life can that be, what pursuit, what business, that does not require, or will not be the better for, sound reason, solid principles, consideration of consequences, acknowledgment of the divine will? Companionship and friendly connexions are among the most favourite interests of young persons. Sober-mindedness is eminently im- portant here. Wisdom and goodness are probably not so superabundant throughout the youthful tribe, that a young person may think he can be in no danger. Let young persons consider, that they put themselves, with respect to very important interests, at the command, in no small degree, of their associates. That is to say, they yield to the effect of sympathy and conformity. They will be rendered more fa- vourably disposed to some things, and more averse to others. Now if it should be that what they are rendered more averse to is, seriousness, piety, the service of God, seeking 190 ON SOBER-MINDEDNESS. the good offered by the Redeemer ! Let young persons confess to conscience, whether they never feel this effect. But that is purchasing the pleasure at a fearful cost ! And what is to prevent so disastrous a commerce but soberness of mind ? This would keep them clearly aware that the mere pleasure of friendly association is a trifle as compared with the influence and effect. Soberness of mind, again, would be of high value to young people, as to the terms on which they shall stand with what is called the world. That is the denomination for a sort of system of maxims, customs, modes, and fashions. And it takes upon itself a high and tyrannic authority, if we may judge from the number of submissive slaves. Young people appear early to recognize a kind of conscience, and religious reverence towards this authority. They must do as the world does dare not presume to be out of the mode anxiously study the dictates and watch the movements of this " Dread Sovereign."" If there were but half as much attention and sub- missive feeling toward the Lord of heaven and earth ! But, think of a person, young or old, revering this stupid idol, and disregarding Him J Xow the quality enjoined by the apostle would ON SOBER-MINOEDNESS. 191 set a young person above this arrogated au- thority. He would perceive an infinite quantity of vanity, absurdity, and something still worse, in this domineering system, and assume a digni- fied independence. Not that such a young per- son would exhibit himself in a laboured and ostentatious singularity. You well know that there is a vast distance between this, and a sedulous, obsequious, and punctilious conform- ity. The firmly sober-minded young person would, in numerous instances and considerable degrees, set at nought the prescriptions of the despot; would act just as he thought proper; and would have his reason to assign ; " I really have something else to do with my time and thoughts, than to study and follow your ca- prices, modes, and vanities." So much for the situation of young persons in the world ; it is almost too obvious to be added, that for what concerns their preparation to go out of it, there is the utmost necessity for every thing implied in sober-mindedness. We conclude with a consideration or two for the enforcement of the exhortation. And let it not be forgotten, that Youth will soon be passed away. Nay, there is even the wish, in its possessors, for the larger portion of 192 ON SOBER-MINDEDNESS. it to haste away ! A most striking illustration of the vanity of our state on earth ! Well ! it rapidly runs on to the longed-for age of twenty. But then, it retains its impetus of motion, and runs beyond that point as fast as it ran thither. And with what magical fleetness it passes away, till it loses its quality, and life is youth no more ! But in the case of not a few young persons, their youth is appointed to be the whole of then- life. Now supposing that in any par- ticular instance, this were certain and known: in that instance, all opinions would agree as to the propriety and necessity of sober-minded- ness: yes, the vainest, the giddiest, unless to- tally ignorant or unbelieving of hereafter, say, " Yes, certainly, he or she should be sober- minded." But now judge soberly whether the propriety is reversed by the circumstance of uncertainty; that a young person may only have his youth for the whole of his life. When this may be the case, were it not infatuation to live as if it most certainly would not? But assuming that life will be prolonged into the more advanced stages, consider, that then a great change of feeling from that of youth, will certainly take place. There will be an altered estimate of many things, and altered feeling ; a ON SOBER-MINDEDNESS. 193 somewhat changed colour over the scene of life. Experience, disappointment, difficulty, will have begun their process. Now consider ; is it not a most ungracious thing, that the altered state of feeling in more advanced life, should come just wholly as* disappointment, as mortifying experience, as sober sense forced upon reluctant folly ? Whereas, sober-minded- ness in youth might have anticipated a great deal; might, through wisdom, have made the change much more smooth ; might have caused it to be much less, and less mortifying, and made it less reproachful in reflection on the sanguine delusion of early life. And be it ob- served here, that it is a bad sign in youth to be utterly heedless of the dictates of the expe- rience of persons more advanced in life. It is, indeed, quite impossible for youth to enter fully into the spirit of such experience. But to despise it, to fancy it proceeds entirely from disappointment, mortified feeling, moroseness, or the mere coldness of age, augurs ill. And so these young persons themselves will think, when they, in their turn, come to inculcate the lessons of their more aged experience. We would enforce one more consideration; namely, that things will have their conse- o 194 ON SOBER-MINDEDNESS. quences. If there be a vain, giddy, thought- less, ill-improved youth, the effects of it will infallibly come in after life. If there be a neglected understanding, a conscience feebly and rudely constituted, good principles, but slightly fixed or even apprehended, a habitual levity of spirit, a chase of frivolities, a surrender to the passions; the natural consequences of these will follow. And what will they be, when a man is advanced into the field of im- portant and difficult duties? when he shall himself be required to be a counsellor of youth? when he shall be put upon strong trials of both his judgment and conscience? when he shall have to sustain afflictions? when advancing age shall force him to see that he shall ere long have to leave life itself behind? Sometimes, happily, even in the advanced life of such a person, the power of religion, the converting Spirit of Christ comes on him, and in a partial measure suspends and reverses these natural consequences of his unhappy youth. But then his bitterest regret is, that it was through such a youth that he advanced into life I We add but one consideration more, which we could wish to press on young minds with peculiar force. They love cheerfulness, spirit- ON SOBER-MINDEDNESS. 195 edness, vivacity; and they are right. But then! on the supposition of life being prolonged, would they be content to expend away the greatest portion of this animation in the beginning of life ? Would they drink out the precious wine of life in the morning, and leave but the dregs for the evening of life's day ? If there be any possible way of throwing a large portion of this vital element, this animation, into the latter, the latest part of life, were not that the highest wisdom ? Will there be young persons ready to answer gaily and carelessly to this, "Never fear ! doubtless there will be spirit and anima- tion enough for the whole length of life, how much soever we riot now." We answer them, "Look whether the fact be so. You know many persons far advanced in age. As to some of them, you happen to know, that in their youth, they were gay and vivacious in a high degree ; their spirits blazed away in mirth and amusement; they expended their vivacity with- out limit or care. ' Never fear!' they said. They have passed through many stages since ; but, very naturally, have never applied them- selves in earnest to their highest concerns ; they have done their best to keep up their spirits as a substitute for that. But how do you behold 02 196 ON SOBER-MINDEDNESS. them now? It is true there are instances of great natural animal spirits, where a consider- able measure remains even in a late period of an ill-improved life. When it is merely this, how- ever, you feel little complacency in seeing it; when you are a little reflective, you revolt from sympathy. But how often you see in the old persons who spent so gay a youth, an extinction of all the fire! Sometimes they try to brighten up for a moment ; but they betray an exhaustion and desertion. They are sensible that life is nearly gone by. But its close they cannot bear to think of, no more than when they were young; but have no longer the youthful means of driving away the thought. They are some- times pensively gloomy; often peevishly and morosely so. Oh! had they but in early life consecrated the animation of their spirits, by giving a larger share of it to God, to reserve it for them ! Had they often tempered and re- pressed the vivacity of their hearts, by solemn thoughts of hereafter, by a vigorous application to wisdom, they might have been fired with spirit and animation now, which not the ap- proach of Death could chill or quench; nay, would have burnt the brighter in that formid- able atmosphere! Look at this delightful ani- ON SOBER-MINDEDNESS. 197 mation in the end of life! Happily there are such examples. Some signal instance within these walls may occur to your thoughts. Very advanced life, as full of spirit, and animated sentiment, and ardour, and indefatigable ac- tivity, as ever that person's youth could have been, and EELIGION the life of it all !* * Twenty-two years have passed away since this allu- sion was made, and nineteen since the subject of it ended his earthly course. The survivers who heard it and were then best able to attest its propriety, would probably do so now, if not with the same vivid emotion, yet with a more enlightened conviction, in proportion to their own advance in the Christian life ; for the capability of estima- ting worth of a high order, may serve in some measure as an index of our own proficiency. Others, to whom an explanation may be necessary, will find in the following extract, a few touches, that seemed wanting to finish a likeness drawn by a master-hand,* of one whose claims on the veneration, gratitude, and love of his nearest connex- ions, no words can adequately express, and no length of time obliterate from their memories. " DR. RYLAND was a man highly and honourably dis- tinguished, during a long period of time, within a sphere which, though it may be denominated local or provincial, was of considerable compass. He was employed in a diversity of concerns in the religious department, was of great activity, and maintained a very extensive acquaint- ance and correspondence. He was uniformly, during * Hall's Works, Vol. i. p. 369. 198 ON SOBER-MINDEDNESS. But to attain this in age, we repeat, the spirit must be tempered and consecrated in more than half a century, conspicuous in the most genu- ine zeal to serve the cause of religion ; a zeal remarkably clear of every thing like egotism and display ; and so free from the acrid taint of bigotry, that he commanded the respect, and a still kinder feeling, of persons of all sects and denominations. His benevolence, in whatever mode he could exert it, was promptly and most unostentatiously manifested on all occasions. His indefatigable assiduity in the improvement of his time, was such as often made some of his friends ashamed, by the comparison they were forced to make between him and themselves. In his manner of preaching there was a strong and marked pe- culiarity. In the construction of his sermons, the scheme was cast, not so much in an order to carry the topic through in an agreeable course of illustration, of uniform tenor and bearing, as in a form to throw the force into prominent points, exhibiting strongly the specialities of the subject ; sometimes enforcing it by striking contrasts or parallels, sometimes by remarkable facts from Scripture history, or the natural world, sometimes by unexpected applications ; but all these pertinent to the topic or the text, and free from anything of petty artifice or affectation ; always with the most perfect simplicity of feeling and purpose; for no preaching could bear more palpable evidence than his, of serious, direct, simple intentness on the subject, and desire to make it useful to the hearers. These striking prominences of his illustration, he would often enforce with a vividness of ideas and expression, and with an energy of feeling and manner, which was animated sometimes into the utmost vehemence. Some disadvantages of voice, or little uncouthnesses of manner, ON SOBER-MINDEDNESS. 199 youth. And that wise and happy youth may answer the thoughtless, volatile, gay ones, when were nearly lost to the perception of those who habitually or frequently heard him, in the perfect demonstration which they invariably felt of his genuine and earnest piety and zeal. He excelled very many deservedly esteem- ed preachers, in variety of topics and ideas. To the end of his life he was a great reader, and very far from being confined to one order of subjects ; taking little less inter- est in works descriptive of the different regions and in- habitants of the world, and in works on natural history, than in Jewish antiquities, and the other parts of know- ledge directly related to theology. And he would often freely avail himself of these resources for diversifying and illustrating the subjects of his sermons ; an advan- tage and a practice which we have often been sorry to see ministers decline, when the well judged use of their various reading affords so obvious a resource for avoid- ing the monotony in sermons so often complained of by the hearers. Dr. Ryland's early and long addiction to what is called the American school of theology, and to Jonathan Edwards as its great master, imparted a character to his doctrinal views, which was perceptible to the last. But we have understood, and deem it a remarkable and honourable fact, that, as he advanced into old age, he became less tenacious of any extra peculiarity of system, displayed a more free and varied action of mind, and was more prac- tical and impressive. It may be added, that his language, formed indeed in the theological mould of phraseology, and making no pretension to elegance or polish, was per- spicuous and precise in the expression of his thoughts. All our readers, no doubt, will recollect the eloquent 200 ON SOBER-MINDEDNESS. they ask, "Why do you thus restrain and re- press your lively spirit with grave thoughts and hard exercises?" he may answer, "Because I delineation and eulogy exhibited in Mr. Hall's funeral sermon for Dr. Ryland. Very just in the main, it has been thought liable to correction in one particular. The description of Dr. Ryland's passive meekness, his want of all power of re-action and contest, is such as to give al- most the impression, that he was helplessly and without remedy at the mercy of any who could be hard-hearted enough to assail or trample on him. It is true, that he had a painful sensitiveness to opposition, and an extreme horror of harsh, unsparing conflict ; and would, before a bold opponent, shrink and be subdued into silence. But, for this weakness, he was by no means destitute of a com- pensation, a compensation in his own competence, inde- pendently of that forbearance which the knowledge of his amiable character, and of this weakness in it, obtained for him from all persons of kind and considerate temper. He had, for one thing, great tenacity both of opinion and purpose. And for another, he had a great power of per- suasion in communicating, in a quiet, amicable, and some- what confidential manner, with individuals ; so that he could do much to disarm, one by one, a number of per- sons who might otherwise have been disposed to join in opposition to him. He had, also, a very great facility in writing, and could by letters give effect to opinions and arguments, with persons with whom he might not have had spirit and nerve enough to maintain them in stout personal encounter. In consequence, he not seldom car- ried his point, when it might have seemed that he could not do otherwise than surrender it. And this proceeding ON SOBER-MINDEDNESS. 201 hope to have vivacity at a period of life (if I reach it) when I fear you will be oppressed with gloom." June ZJth, 1822. was not to be denominated artful, in any culpable sense ; for no man could be more upright in his intentions, or more sincere in the arguments and pleadings by which he endeavoured to give them effect." Vide Mr. Foster's " Contributions, Biographical, Literary, and Philosophical to the Eclectic Review." Vol. I. Pages 519521. LECTURE XIII. FALSE GKOUNDS OF SUPERIORITY IN HOLINESS. ISAIAH Ixv. 5. Which say, Stand by thyself, come not near to me ; for I am holier than thou. WE are all perfectly well acquainted with the principle, that self-love it the first law of nature, acquainted with it as a maxim; but also as a matter of experimental feeling; no one ever waited to be taught it as a point of moral truth. It would be a task requiring very great labour and discrimination to determine the just extent of this principle; to determine, that is to say, how far, and on what conditions, consistently with eternal rectitude, the one human being may prefer himself, and his own interests, to every and all of his fellow-creatures and their interests. In some manner and degree he inevitably must FALSE GROUNDS OF SUPERIORITY, ETC. 203 do so. His own being is his only being, and therefore all the interests of existence must centre there. In the midst of an universe of beings, it is still himself that is the most in- teresting object to himself. But then there immediately meets him the solemn law, from the Author of his being, the Perfection and the Judge of all righteousness, " Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." This cannot be intended in the absolutely and rigorously literal sense; but it must be dictated in a meaning which presses severely, all round, on the sphere of exclusive self-love ; so severe- ly, as to compress and crush that affection into a grievous narrowness of space; unless it can escape into liberty and action some other way, in some modified quality. There is a way in which it can expand and indulge itself without violating the solemn law imposed, namely, that self-love, or self-interest, should be exalted to such a temper, that its gratification, its gratifi- cation of itself should actually very much consist in promoting the welfare of others. This is benevolence, or charity ; and perfect benevo- lence would so combine, as almost to identify, the interest a man would feel concerning his own good, with that which he would feel 204 FALSE GROUNDS concerning the good of others. And thus self- love, though vitally centering in self, would be continually going out in beneficent exercise on the happiness of others. Yes, as self-love, maintaining still that nature, it would be going out in this exercise. Self-love and social be- coming thus in a very great degree the same, the great law would be fulfilled without re- pressing and crushing self-love in order to fulfil it. This is a combining, uniting spirit, which makes it my happiness that they should be happy. But, look on mankind, and see whether the self-interest, the self-love, is not generally a dissociating and hostile principle, which is intent on my good as dissevered from theirs, and often in contrast to theirs, and at the expense of it. We come, by our text, to observe, that the hostile quality of self-love is eminently con- spicuous in men's self-estimation, as in com- parison with other men. The very pleasure of self-estimation consists generally in what ? not in the sense of being conformed to a certain rule and standard, but of being (in assumption) superior to certain other persons, invidiously brought into contrast ; insomuch, that, could it be that they should suddenly rise to an equality OF SUPERIORITY IX HOLINESS. 205 or superiority, it would cause a feeling of mor- tification as to myself, and bitterness against them. Think how often men are pleased the most with the faults of those with whom they compare themselves. Those are the delectable points which the eager glance fixes upon ! Those are the flowers where the honey is found! and what pleasure to detect new ones during the comparison ! and what a disposition to detract from the undeniable better properties in them, that our own may appear the brighter ! What jealousy, mortification, and even hatred, when evident superiority, in worthiness, or abilities, may happen to come into comparison ! In all manner of depart- ments and professions you see the prevalence of this hostile, malevolent self-estimation. Even in the advantage of personal appear- ance, with what internal exultation the acknow- ledged or self-reputed beauty looks on objects less favoured by the casualty of nature ; (does not, however, say in the words of the text, " Come not near me " rather, " come," for the sake of contrast!) Even in such a thing as the raiment and adorning of the body. In every accomplishment, attainment, talent, art, profes- sion. In property, and all that is denominated 206 FALSE GROUNDS the favours of fortune. On the strength of such things, what millions of proud emotions there are every day in the hearts of human creatures! THIS is the kind sympathetic fra- ternity of our depraved race! And in the greatest number of the instances, the point of complacency is, that the good which / possess (or think I do), my fellow-mortals do not ; (those of them that I am comparing myself with). I feel not, perhaps, a pleasure that sim- ply and abstractedly they do not possess the good in question ; but, a pleasure that they are put below me in not possessing it ; so that it would be a grievance to me that they should possess it, since they then would not be below me ; the gratification of my pride being a thing far dearer to me than their happiness. So in- tensely base in principle is this pride I But, it may also be mistaken and self-deluded in its presumption, as to the fact of superiority. In many instances, the man who is elated in this pride of superiority may really not possess that which he assumes as his just ground for pride. And in the most important case of all, the very pride itself is a proof that he does not possess the supposed good ; that is, in the case of the pride of " holiness," the pride of religious OF SUPERIORITY IN HOLINESS. 207 virtue, if we may so express it. The language and spirit of the text expose a man as a stranger to true holiness, whatever may be the compara- tive state between him and the person to whom he thus speaks ; and on whatever he may found his arrogant pretensions. But to think, how a man's ruling vice may befool him to make an ostentation of himself in a certain character which the very ostentation itself is the proof that he does not possess ! The person addressed in such spirit and terms "I am holier than thou," might have replied. " That might easily be ; I do not wish to make comparisons, but this manner of announc- ing the fact appears to me a bad sign ; because holiness implies much communication with God, and I have always understood that that tended to abase and humble a man in his own esteem." He might have replied again, " What, then, is it a cause of pleasure to you that I should be less holy than yourself? Is holiness something else than goodness? or does goodness exclude benevolence ? Would you rather have cause to condemn me than approve? to despise me than love and respect?" And again " Stand off," you say ; " why, I should have thought that a holy temper of the soul would rather 208 FALSE GROUNDS have wished to invite and attract, in order to assimilate; in order to exert a benign and purifying influence that was the spirit of the most illustrious saints, and will be of their Lord, when he shall be revealed on the earth. Is it, then, the aim and use of your holiness to make a kind of God of yourself, for me to stand in awe of, rather than to draw me with you to adore the true God ? Do you want to divide the honour with the Supreme Holiness ? If you were an angel the case would not be so. Is not holiness a resemblance, as far as it exists, to God ? But he does not say to me, * Stand at a distance, come not near to me.' " The disposition to arrogate the dignity of holiness, in other words, of religious worth and excellence, has never become extinct among men, nor the quite consistent disposition to turn it to the use of pride. We may specify a few of the many grounds of pretension, on which this assumption of holiness sustains itself, and takes authority for its pride of comparison with other men. In some instances, an assumption of superior holiness has been made upon the ground of belonging to a certain division, or class, of man- kind; a class having its distinction in the cir- OF SUPERIORITY IN HOLINESS. 209 cumstance of descent and nativity, or, in some artificial constitution of society. Thus the an- cient Jews, in virtue merely of being Jews. Imagine the worst JCAV comparing himself with Aristides, Phocion, or Socrates. The Brahmins, in virtue of a pretended pre-eminently holy de- scent; an emanation from the head of their creating God. In popish countries, the numer- ous ecclesiastical class. Something of this even in protestant England, within a period not alto- gether gone beyond remembrance. (Remarkable conversation related by an old friend.) In these instances there has been an assumption of holi- ness independently of individual personal char- acter. Xow, think of such things as here re- counted! What an infamy to perverted human reason, that any thing which might leave the individual evidently bad, in heart and life, could yet be taken as constituting him the reverse of bad, that is, holy! An absurdity parallel to transubstantiation. Happily, among us, such a pernicious delusion is, in a good measure, done away. Perhaps, however, not entirely. We dare not assert that no one takes any credit to himself, for example, on the circumstance of be- longing to a consecrated profession; or, on the circumstance of descent from an eminently pious p 210 FALSE GROUNDS ancestry; or of relationship, or friendly connex- ion, with persons and families of distinguished excellence. But, as to the benefit of this kind- red or connexion with the "excellent of the earth," let it be remembered that even "Noah, Daniel, and Job," could not "have saved sons or daughters." In fact, the absence 'of personal holiness is even still more fatal in such a case. It were a worthy ground of pride "I am con- nected or related to persons whose excellence, which I value myself upon, is my condemnation !" Again, in many periods and places men have reputed themselves "holy" on the ground of a punctilious observance of religious forms and ceremonies, whether of divine appointment, or human invention. This took the place of the true religious sanctity among the Jews. It is a grand characteristic of paganism. It actually stands instead of religion and morality among the far greater part of the people under the dominion of the Romish church. Superstitions and ceremonial observances have their strong hold on human being in this very delusion that they will do instead of real piety and morality. A remainder of this sanctioned delusion has continued too apparent among our own people. And there has been a great deficiency of decided OF SUPERIORITY IN HOLINESS. 211 exertion to explode it. The ignorant people have been allowed, and in many instances ex- pressly warranted, to repose an undue con- fidence in some rites and external observances. An intrinsic and, as it were, magical virtue in them has been allowed and warranted by many who should have regarded such a delusion with horror, and been zealous to teach them better. But to come to a less superstitious form of the evil. It is to be feared there are some among us who venture a delusive assumption on the ground of a regular attention to the external services of religion; they habitually attend on public worship; are generally seen in the more occasional services of a religious nature ; and even maintain some regular forms of religion in the family. On the strength of this, they deem themselves placed at an immeasurable distance from the plainly careless and irreligious part of the community. They know that men ought to have religion, and they deem this to be suffi- ciently such. They are therefore on the right side of the essential distinction between godly and ungodly. But we have cause to know that all this may be, and yet no vital transforming prevalence of religion in the heart; no com- munion with the Father of spirits, and of lights ; P2 212 FALSE GROUNDS no penitential, self-abased, affectionate applica- tion of the soul to its Redeemer; no tendency to go forth in contemplation of the grand objects of faith. Yet such persons may often indulge in a self-complacent comparison of themselves with other classes of human character. When they are beginning to do so, let them turn to the serious consideration whether this be a state of mind adapted to harmonize with what we are taught to conceive of the spirit and employ- ments of saints in heaven. And, while so little prepared to be associated with that higher order, they may withhold their contempt from a class they see below them. Another ground of such assumption and pride as the text expresses, is, general rectitude of practical conduct, separate from the true reli- gious principle of moral excellence. We need not particularize, in the description of such a conduct. Let it be that which shall pass with honour through society, and, on the whole, be able to challenge and defy censure ; and such a man may behold with proud contempt the paltry sinners around him. This, now, is the honourable exterior, the practical man; and cer- tainly, in some views, he is a valuable member of society? But, are we to look no deeper? OP SUPERIORITY IN HOLINESS. 213 Will God look no deeper? All this while, there may be no genuine piety. No real love, and little fear, of God; little of deeply-principled sensibility of conscience. The man, perhaps, idolizes himself, and is determined that his idol shall have respectable attributes. A flagrant blemish would damp his worship. He scorns to do a base, unjust, dishonourable thing, be- cause it is unworthy of him beneath his dig- nity. He is resolved, perhaps, to command the respect of mankind; perhaps, has resolution enough to act on the sound wisdom that virtue is the best policy. He has acquired a character for worth, and is resolved to maintain it. Amidst all this, there is no humiliation before his Sovereign Judge; no affecting and afflic- tive consciousness of the perversities of his heart ; no faithful investigation of his motives and principles; no perception of the number- less practical defects in even his actions; no profound conviction of his need of the divine mercy and the merits of Christ. And because he has not these, he can freely indulge his pride in comparing himself with his fellow-mortals. But say, is this is really this, "the holiness without which no man shall see the Lord?" The pride of self-estimation for goodness or 214 FALSE GROUNDS holiness, is apt to be betrayed by persons, who have preserved a character substantially free from reproach, against those who have, in some known instance, fallen into great sin. It might have been a case in which they were encoun- tered by sudden, or complicated, or very extra- ordinary temptation, such as all should pray earnestly to be saved from. The delinquent may have penitently deplored the transgression through many subsequent years. It may have contributed to render him cautious and self- diffident ever since ; and the subsequent course of conduct may have been exemplary; the painful recollection has often served to repress his temper and restrain his language when he has had to reprehend wrong conduct in others. But it has been often enough seen, that another person who has been happy enough (from what- ever cause) not to incur any such marked blemish on his character, will assume a tone of high superiority against him (especially if pro- voked in any case of competition), though he may never have had the same strength of temp- tation to combat with; may never think of ascribing his exemption to any higher cause than his own good principles; and may be quite destitute of some valuable qualities the OP SUPERIORITY IN HOLINESS. 215 other possesses. The whole life of this self- applauder may have been little better than a series of negatives. His faulty, penitent brother may have done much good. If a man of ordi- nary rate had boasted against Peter, that he had never dishonoured himself by any crime comparable to denying Christ, Peter would have answered more in sorrow than in anger; but what would have been thought of such a boaster, telling Peter, " I am holier than thou ?'' We may turn our observation to notice a very different mode of this proud self-estima- tion and comparison. A man may have had his mind by some means directed to a speculative knowledge of religious doctrine ; may have been drawn into a train of reading, thinking, dis- puting ; may have acquired a large command of topics and arguments. And we will suppose that it is valuable knowledge that he has gained; that his opinions are right, and his arguments for them sound. Now, we have seen too many unhappy instances, in evidence that all this may be, and yet the man feel little or nothing of the divine and sanctifying power of religious truth. (Warburton, Horsley, &c., &c.) Yet, so ready is the speculatist and advocate to take to himself all the dignity and excellence of 216 FALSE GROUNDS his subject and his cause, that this man may take up a lofty pretension if not strictly and formally to " holiness," yet to some meritorious relation to truth and religion ; something which authorizes him in a high contempt, not only of those who know nothing about religion, but also of those who feel its genuine influence and power, when they are feeble in the speculative intelligence of it. He accounts himself to be, as it were, in the confidence of religion, and that he must be invested with something of its venerable character, when he can so authen- tically declare its mind. Observe again, there is such a thing as a fac- titious zeal in the active service of religion; and that forms a ground of high pretension. You may have seen examples. Men in restless activity; full of scheme, and expedient, and experiment, and ostentatious enterprise ; to pro- mote, apparently, the work of God, the Chris- tian cause; seeming ready to compass sea and land for the purpose. But an attentive observer could easily descry, that the cause of God was a very secondary concern with them, even at the best interpretation. Their grand object (whe- ther they were conscious of it or not), was their own notoriety; and the cause of religion hap- OF SUPERIORITY IN HOLINESS. 217 pened to be that which would most effectually serve this purpose. "Come, see my zeal for the Lord of hosts." The successes and progress, real or pretended, of a good cause, were re- counted and proclaimed by them in no other form of story, than that of their own exploits for it. Yet even such men could allow them- selves in the arrogance and pride expressed in our text. One more particular might be specified. There are a number of persons among profess- ing Christians, whose minds are almost ever dwelling on certain high points of doctrine, sought chiefly in the book of God's eternal de- crees. And it is on these doctrines that they found, in some manner, an absolute assurance of their being in Christ, in the divine favour, children of God, and therefore as sure of heaven as if they were there. Now God forbid that, with the New Testament before us, and a mul- titude of pious examples, we should deny, or for an instant doubt, that there is a firm and rational assurance of salvation attainable in this life ; or that any one of us should not earnestly seek to attain it. But how attained? whereon founded? Do the scriptures and reason au- thorize any other principle or process than this, 218 FALSE GROUNDS namely, that a man do most carefully ascertain what it is, that, according to the divine word, constitutes a Christian ; and then, make a most faithful investigation into the state of his soul and his life, to ascertain whether that which constitutes a Christian be actually there ; and, if it be, to take the assurance, and bless God for the evidence; and bless him for having wrought in them this preternatural character. But the persons we speak of refuse to have the matter placed on this ground. Not wholly in- deed, perhaps, for they will somewhat equivo- cate ; but in substance they refuse it ; and will maintain their assurance independently of it. And they describe it nearly as if it had come to them by a distinct, positive, and formal revela- tion from heaven ; setting aside all need of any such rule of evidence as we have spoken of. We are not ignorant, that men of eminent piety and holiness have often received a kind of bliss- ful illapses and irradiations into their souls, bearing to them (we may call it) a mystical testimony, to confirm, and animate into tri- umph, the assurance founded on evidence. And, questionless, elevated and humble piety, in communion with God, will often receive such rays from his countenance. But these de- OF SUPERIORITY IN HOLINESS. 219 vout spirits have been careful not to substitute such confirmatory impressions for the tangible basis of evidence on which the question rested. They recurred to this in their repeated self- examinations and self-judgments ; and earnestly insisted on it in their religious instructions. And as to the practical influence of this their happy assurance ; it has both served to rectify, still more highly, their conscience and moral principles, and to repress any disposition to a self-righteous arrogance toward persons less favoured in point of religious confidence. Whereas, some such persons as we are refer- ring to, betray that their assurance, which takes its stand on so lofty a position, independent of a faithful estimate of the heart and life, has an unsanctifying effect; it slackens and narrows the force and compass of the jurisdiction of con- science; and, especially, cherishes in them the spirit of our text. They can look with pride, not with pious gratitude, from a high and pri- vileged condition, on those who are suffering doubts and solicitude respecting their state to- ward God and a future world. We may name, lastly, as one of the things made a ground of pretension and pride, the experience of elated, ardent, enthusiastic 220 FALSE GROUNDS feelings, in some semblance of connexion with religion, but not really of its genuine inspira- tion. It is a noble advantage for religion, and for its living subject, when it lights upon a mind of great excitability, and vigorous passions, provided there also be a solid strength of reason. And even though there be not strong reason, in this mind of strong passions, when it is a genuine, and therefore a sanctifying, influence of religion that acts upon it, the effects may be most happy, sometimes most admirable. So salutary, so true to its heavenly origin, is the influence of real piety, that it does in a measure supply the place and the want of strong reason. It puts the feelings which it actuates in coincidence with correct reason, even without the standard being dis- tinctly recognized. The passions may, so to speak, be trusted with it, when they could not with any other gaurdian or tutelar genius ; even more safely than with that same reason itself alone ; as if a band of agents were put under the direction of an angel instead of a philosopher. But, unhappily, there are many instances in which the passions are excited to ardour and vehemence, in some sort of relation to the truth of religion, but not under its genuine OP SUPERIORITY IN HOLINESS. 221 operation. The passions were, so to speak, waiting in readiness for some stimulus, for any stimulus, for any match to set them on fire. The grand ideas and images of religion have in them something naturally adapted to produce great excitement. Those ideas have, perhaps, also been presented to the mind under very particular circumstances and associations, fitted to strike and inflame. And so, there has been caused a natural, a sort of rudely poetical, ex- citement of the fancy and passions, in connexion with religious ideas, but not under the real sanctifying influence of religion. The want of this holy principle has been betrayed, by an utter dereliction, and rout, and expulsion of sound notions, the while ; by, perhaps, a most grotesque mixture of low and ludicrous fancies ; by a promptitude of these inflamed passions to turn suddenly to some mischief; and in the result, by the predominance of the spirit of our text, that is, a proud contempt in self-compari- son with persons of a slow, and grave, and thoughtful, and humble temperament in reli- gion. The proper rebuke to such deluded minds, whenever they may be cool enough to listen to it, is, "You may be sure that is not a truly pious ardour, which does not result 222 FALSE GROUNDS OP SUPERIORITY, ETC. in humility towards God, in charity towards your brethren, and in a fitness and disposition to prosecute the steady labours and duties of Christian life ; in other words, which does not make you the better practical Christian." We close here. It was intended to enforce a few of the general considerations corrective of the delusion and the vice described. But they could be only such as will suggest themselves to every thoughtful mind. For example ; a consideration of the holiness of God, and the depth and breadth of his law ; the necessity of a deep knowledge of the heart, and its corrup- tion; of the grand purpose and end of reli- gion; the special and peculiar adaptation of the plan of redemption by Jesus Christ to abase men in their own view ; of the manner in which true holiness has evinced and displayed itself in the most eminent human examples of it ; and, finally, the effect which the last judgment will have, reflectively, on all men's previous estimates of themselves, and compari- sons with one another. September 11, 1822. LECTURE XIV. FALLACIES OPERATING AGAINST EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION. REVELATIONS iii. 5. / would thou wert cold or hot. THESE words, you are aware, occur in the austere and warning address to the church at Laodicea. The sentence which comes after is equally well remembered. " Because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold not hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth ; " which may suggest this observation, that the Supreme Teacher did not in the sacred scriptures, subject himself to consult any niceties of literary refinement. The bible shows numerous instances of meta- phors and illustrations, of a character very homely, unpolished, and sometimes even repul- sive. If we should say (which is true), that in part this was a mere conformity to the 224 FALLACIES OPERATING AGAINST manner of the ages and places in which the divine oracles were uttered, it would still not the less be true, that it was not for the divine Dictator of truth and law to recognize the claim of any artificial order of human feelings and modes ; or any rules but that of plain truth. And this because God was to speak to man in his own absolute character of Creator and Sovereign Dictator; and to man in man's permanent substantial character of creature and subject, with an understanding and a conscience to be spoken to ; and this was a relation superior to all artificial rules of men's commu- nications with one another. God therefore would speak to man directly as a creature standing before HIM, and not as if he were regarding man as a creature placed in refined society, and to be addressed in a language modified according to its rules; and as if he were considerate of the creature's dignity and taste. Some of the more trivial of the infidel tribe have attempted on this account to detract from the venerableness and sanctity of the bible, talking about its dealing in coarse lan- guage and images. As well might the vain spirits in the prophets' times have effected to be shocked that Elijah would not put a court dress EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION. 225 when he had to appear in the name of the Almighty before kings, and queens, and princes ; or that John the Baptist came in so coarse a garb to preach repentance, and announce the kingdom of God. Yet after all this, it is a per- fectly obvious fact, that the scriptures do abound with every kind of beauty and sublimity in sentiments, images, and language. As in the case of Elijah, there was his rough mantle, but also the chariot and horses of fire. But then it is most remarkably characteristic of the sacred writings, that these beauties seem to come with no manner of design to please the taste and fancy ; they appear as most simply spontaneous from the subject. But to revert to our text: "I would thou wert cold or hot." This is a condemnation of carelessness and indifference. The terms should not exactly imply an entire absence of every feeling excited by the religion of which they had taken the name. But then would it have been better than having so little, to have had absolutely none ? In two respects it would. There would have been less of the means of self-deception. (" Thou sayest I am rich and increased in goods, and have need of nothing.") And all semblance and pretension to Christian- Q 226 FALLACIES OPERATING AGAINST ity being abjured, there would have been less injury done to it in the opinions and feelings of the irreligious world. But without wishing to adjust any special question, we may take the expression simply as a most impressive and menacing condemnation of insensibility, and indifference, and neglect respecting the one most important matter in existence, and as coming directly from our merciful Lord and Redeemer. The subject, therefore, on which we would invite you to think a few moments, is the most common, and plain, and beaten of all subjects almost that we can speak or hear of; that is, the absolute ne- cessity of being IN EARNEST about our highest interests. Considerations to enforce this great point may be inculcated on those who are quite un- concerned ; but especially on those who feel in some, but an inefficient degree, its importance. Such a topic has great difficulty to lay any hold on the mind almost even to engage the atten- tion. We all know the effect of perfect famili- arity and endless reiteration. But more than so; this great familiar truth seems to suffer in its power of interesting men by the very fulness of its evidence, and of the conviction with which EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION. 227 it is admitted. With the greatest number of the moderately instructed and sober part of so- ciety, this great practical truth lias a settled admission and establishment in the judgment. It is instantly acknowledged, almost before the sentence can be finished. " Certainly cer- tainly; we know all that; it is an undeniable truth." It has its place there, without oppo- sition, question, or doubt. And is it not a most momentous, and mighty, and urgent truth? But by this ready, assenting, unresisting ad- mission, its power seems to be destroyed. So that it is like a giant warrior, with his arms, conveyed dead into a cemetery, instead of being introduced living into a field of battle. Think of this fact! The evidence and admission so full, that the mind has nothing to do with it as a question, and therefore feels as if it had little to do with it as an interest! While its being a matter of the mightiest interest, is the very thing that is affirmed and acknowledged ! Just as if for the irresistible occupancy of the judg- ment by a solemn truth, the perverse soul would take its revenge, by withdrawing away the affections and passions from all conjunction or communication with it. Like the policy of clearing away all the sustenance of life and Q2 228 FALLACIES OPERATING AGAINST action from the neighbourhood of a position which is impregnably occupied by an unwel- come power, to debilitate him by famine. Whatever be the explanation, the fact is evi- dent, that the actual power of this great prin- ciple or truth (namely, the absolute necessity of being IN EARNEST about our highest interest) seems to be repressed and quelled, in conse- quence of the ready and complete acknowledg- ment it obtains in the mind. It seems to go to sleep there, because it holds its place certainly, is not contradicted, and cannot be expelled. If some serious doubts could be raised upon it, they might make the matter interesting, they might turn and fix thought upon it. But there is no question about it, and therefore men never think of it. (We might compare this listless admission of truth to the kind of inanimate aspect of the scene under the full meridian sun- shine, in summer, as contrasted with the sha- dows and other effects of dawn, evening, &c.) The monition applied is frustrated; the mind giving a dull reply from within, that " all that is perfectly true and acknowledged." But should not the mind sometimes turn upon itself and say with wonder, " Is it really a fact that I do admit and acknowledge all this ?" EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION. 229 Perhaps another thing that causes this ge- neral solemn admonition (to be in earnest about our highest interests) to come with less force, is the circumstance that it is applicable and perti- nent to ALL. It concerns me, not more than all these millions. Its absolute importance, as ap- plicable to any one, seems dissipated in the idea how many it is applicable to. There is some unthinking feeling, as if the authority and im- portance of the one great admonition were divided into innumerable diminutive shares, with but inconsiderable force in each, at least in mine. How kindly and humbly each is willing not to account his soul more important than that of any of his fellow-mortals ! Yet not so benevolent, neither, in another view of the matter; for in a certain indistinct way, he is laying the blame on the rest of mankind, if he is indifferent about his own highest interest. " They are under the same great obligation ; in their manner of practically acknowledging it, they are my pattern; they keep me to their level. If their shares of the grand concern were more worthily attended to, probably mine would also. One has fancied sometimes what might have been the effect, in the selected in- stances, if the case had been that the Sovereign 230 FALLACIES OPERATING AGAINST Creator had appointed but a few men, here and there one, to an immortal existence, or at least declared it only with respect to them. One cannot help imagining them to feel, every hour, the impression of their sublime and awful pre- dicament ! But why why is it less felt a sub- lime and solemn one, because the rest of our race are in it too ? Does not each as a perfectly distinct one, stand in the whole magnitude of the concern, and the responsibility, and the danger, as absolutely as if there were no other one? How is it less to him than if he thus stood alone? Their losing the happy interest of eternity will not be, that he shall not have lost it for himself. If he shall have lost it, he will feel that they have not lost it for him. He should therefore now feel that upon him is con- centrated, even individually upon him, the en- tire importance of this chief concern. Again; there is far too little of the serious practice of bringing as near together hi view as thought can do it, the two orders of things which both belong to us so belong to us that they must both be taken into our practical ad- justment. Our thinking and talking abound with comparisons and comparative estimates. We are often placing one kind of property, EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION. 231 one condition in life, one career of action, one measure of talent, one model of character, respectively, in comparison against another. We put one tract and climate of the earth, our own frequently, in comparison against a re- mote and very different one; and with what in- terest this is done when a migration is contem- plated as probable ! Now there are two classes of things, the subjects of an unspeakably more striking comparison; and with this circum- stance, that they and the comparison, immedi- ately, and essentially, and profoundly concern us. There is a condition good or evil of this living but dying form of matter, our body ; and the condition of the spirit which inhabits, but is to leave it. There is the world we are in, the object of our senses; and a world to which we are to go, the object of our faith. There is this short life; and an endless one. There are the pains and delights of mortality ; and the joys or woes of eternity. Now unless a man really will set himself, in serious thought, to the comparative estimate of these, and that too as an estimate to be made on his own account, how powerless on him, must be the call that tells him he must be "IN EAKNEST!" In this particular, of inattention to com- 232 FALLACIES OPERATING AGAINST parison and proportion, an admonition in terms of reproach might be directed to some persons of large thought, and science. They are grati- fied in contemplating things in their proportions to one another in calculations of quantities, magnitudes, distances. They will go in this process into the very profound of number; go to the verge of the solar system, and thence to the fixed stars. They will indulge in all the pleasure and pride of such an intellectual operation, and yet, never think of any such thing as an estimate between the things res- pectively, of a momentary and an eternal existence; while this the most vitally concerns them, which all the other ascertainments of proportion do not ! Another thing may be added to this account of causes tending to frustrate the injunction to be in earnest about our highest concerns; namely, that the mind willingly takes a per- verse advantage of the obscurity of the objects of our faith, and for the incompetence of our faculties for apprehending them. What is it that we shall pass through death to see? What can be the manner of a separate spirit's active existence? What is the economy of the other world? How can our mode of existence be EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION. 233 formed and adapted to a widely different state ? Only glimmering intimations are given through the darkness; if general ideas are given, they are very indefinite ones; if special, they are only similitudes and metaphorical shadows. How thick a veil! And what then? A devout spirit would not indeed ask for that veil to be prematurely undrawn, would not, with an urgency approaching to profaneness, seek to pierce or rend it. But such a spirit would look intently, feel a pious inquisitiveness, make efforts to realize, "enter into that within the veil," and would constantly endeavour to mag- nify, (as earnestly wishing to feel,) the power of the unseen world. But, as the contrary of all this, how much is there of the disposition to take from the obscurity, the indefiniteness, the impossibility of distinctly realizing, a plea for not thinking on the subject, and for not being deeply interested by it. There is a will- ingness even to make the veil still more thick, and reduce the glimmering to utter darkness, as strengthening the excuse. " We do not know how to carry our thoughts from this scene into that. It is like entering a mys- terious and visionary wilderness. It is evidently implied to us, by the fact as it stands, that the 234 FALLACIES OPERATING AGAINST opening of that scene upon us now would con- found us in all our business here. Were it not best to be content to mind chiefly our duty here ; and when it shall be God's will and time, he will show us what there is yonder ! " Par- tial truth thus perversely applied, tends to cherish and excuse an indisposition to look forward in contemplations of hereafter; and this indisposition, excused or protected by this allegation, defeats the force of the call, the summons, to be in earnest about our highest interests. There is another pernicious practical decep- tion, through which the force of this call to earnestness is defeated, and the strong necessity which it urges, is evaded; that is, the not recog- nizing in the parts of life, the grand duty and interest which yet is acknowledged to belong to it as a whole. " It belongs to this life," a man shall say, " to make an earnest and effec- tual business of the supreme concern." How belongs to it ? to what part ? to the last year or hours of it ? or to a time of sickness ? or to any season or stage of it in particular? "No; the concern is combined with it as a whole; it all belongs to it all." Well, but then this grand interest is to be felt clinging as it were to each EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION. 235 part, and all the parts. Do you let it be so? Do you feel it so? Ko; you spend one part, and use another part, as an exempt thing; you do not acknowledge the great interest as en- forced upon that. Still " life," you say, " as a whole, is for the grand concern." But what is the whole, if part, and part, passes free of the practical claim? If every spot you are success- ively upon is as a little unclaimed island, where at last is the continent for the kingdom of God to be established over? And yet, through a fatal fallacy, life is still regarded as the some- thing altogether, in which is to be accomplished the purpose in question ! " This day is not much," a man thinks, "nor this week, a par- ticle only in so ample a thing as all life;" and he is not distinctly sensible that he is doing all he can, in each separate part, to throw the whole of the grand affair on a narrowing breadth, on the last part, or quite off the whole. And he may not perceive, neither, that while this delusion, like a mighty evil spirit, is still clearing and driving off, space after space, the momentous concern, it is thickening and darkening, if we may so speak, and becoming charged with awful thunders, to fall upon him in his last hour or in eternity ! 236 FALLACIES OPERATING AGAINST We add for the present, only one more de- scription of delusive feeling tending to frustrate the admonitions to an earnest intentness on the great object, namely, a soothing self-assur- ance, founded the man can hardly explain on what, that some way or other, a thing which is so essentially important, will be effected, must, surely must be effected, because it is so indis- pensable. Very few, we may presume, except those who are dying in despair, really give up themselves for lost. A man says, " I am not mad. I surely surely shall not lose my soul." As if there must be something in the very order of nature, to prevent any thing going so far wrong as that. So that the full sense of danger presses home on very few ; on very few even of those who are forced to suspect themselves to be, if taken as just now, in a situation obnoxious to danger. They trust that the deciding moment is not to find them thus, however, it is to be that this confidence is to be verified. It is, indeed, partly in them- selves, that they trust for this. They have reason and conscience, and a settled conviction of the most important truth in the world. "These cannot fail to answer, at length, their proper end. Adequate causes must and will EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION. 237 have their effects." But these have failed hitherto, and are even now inefficacious. How is that ? They cannot tell how or why, but they will not always fail. There will be more thought, perhaps more resolution, and less to cause these powers and forces to fail. Sometimes particular circumstances in a man's history are suffered to excite in him a kind of superstitious hope. Perhaps, for in- stance, in his childhood or since, he was saved from peril or death in some very remarkable manner. His friends thought that this must surely be a propitious omen; and he, too, is willing to persuade himself so. Perhaps very pious persons have taken a particular interest about him; he knows he has been the subject of many prayers. I recollect the instance of a man, and not at all a weak man, in point of general sense, who was surrendered to the vanities of life ; but retaining constantly and fully the right conviction as to the absolute necessity of religion, and the final consequence of the neglect of it. A kind friend said to him, " How long is this to continue ? you know perfectly to what end this is going." He answered, that he had great hope that a better state of things would come sometime ; for the 238 FALLACIES OPERATING AGAINST had great confidence that the prayers of his pious departed mother could not have been in vain ! A man may encourage this soothing confi- dence that he shall not fatally neglect, that he shall yet become in earnest, from recollection of moments and occasions when he thinks he was so. There may have been times of affect- ing, though transient interest. He is willing to persuade himself they were genuine emotions, excited by a principle imparted from above; which principle he believes, if really imparted, will not be wholly and finally withdrawn, though its operation may be long intermitted. And on this he rests some kind of confidence ; instead of soberly judging, that emotions so transient, and subsequently useless, could be no more than superficial effects on his passions. So many deceptive notions may contribute to a vague sort of assurance that a man will not alway neglect religion, though he is doing so now, and is in no serious disposition to do otherwise. And, in addition to all, there is that unthinking and unscriptural manner of con- sidering, and carelessly throwing ourselves upon, the infinite goodness of God. Thus we have attempted to discriminate and describe some of the causes that it is so difficult EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION. 239 to impart any interest, or even draw any steady attention, to a topic so plain, and trite, and general, as the necessity of being quite in earnest, though about concerns confessedly the most momentous. This representation might pertinently be followed, by some admonitory observations and enforcements, which may af- ford a useful employment, we hope, for a future hour. September 23, 1822. LECTURE XV. EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION ENFORCED. REVELATION iii. 15. I would thou rvert cold or hot. IN a preceding discourse, this short passage was taken for the use of enforcing an exhort- ation even still more general and common, though still less particular and specific than that which would fairly arise from the import and connexion of the words. Its most proper application had been to insist on the crimina- lity, the peculiarly absurd inconsistency, and the consequences of indifference in the pro- fessed servants of Christ ; its dishonour to their profession; its offensiveness to their Lord; its danger to themselves; a reference to their profession being constantly made. But we were content to go on the wide EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION ENFORCED. 241 general ground, where all men may be met with, the plain, serious admonition of the absolute necessity of being in earnest about their highest concerns. Our time was chiefly employed in attempting to distinguish and exemplify a num- ber of things which contribute to render in- efficacious this constantly repeated general inculcation of so plain a matter ; and not only inefficacious, but even dull and uninteresting, insomuch that mere attention is with difficulty gained for it, except by aid of some special and subsidiary topic. But still it would be strange, very strange, if this plain consideration, or fact, of the absolute necessity of EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION, even in the most general and accustomed form in which it can present itself, should be reduced to take its rank with the things which have been repeated till we mind them no longer ! It would be very strange if the renewed mention of such a matter should be exactly that which may be made with the fullest assurance of not disturbing the soul into thought or emotion ; so that you may mention one thing and another, and you will rouse the spirit; mention this, and it will sleep ! Very strange again, if the compelled attention to the fact that I am indif- B 242 EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION ENFORCED. ferent and careless, should be quite unavailing to disturb and alarm that indifference! A strong application of the terms that charge and reprove indifference will sometimes force a man to verify his own consciousness that he is indif- ferent, that it is not a vague reproach which may perhaps strike there or yonder; but that here at home in his own soul, is the very thing which the oracles of Heaven pronounce to be so fatal. And yet even this shall not break but for a moment, the dull tranquillity ' So that neither the things themselves that should excite to earnestness can avail, nor the solemn charge and consciousness that they do not. But what a depth of depravity, that can thus receive and swallow up such masses of alarming truth and fact, and then be as if all this were nothing ! How sad, that for men to be awfully wrong, and to be admonished, and to be aware that they are so, should leave them still at ease ! It is not that men are constituted creatures without feeling. No; they are warm through their whole being with affections and passions ; and an infinite multiplicity of objects acting on them. Think of the movements of the heart, in the inhabitants of a great city, during a EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION ENFORCED. 243 single day, loving, desiring, hoping, hating, fearing, regretting ! What an infinity of emo- tions ! What a stupendous measure of active vitality! Now consider, to these souls are presented, among the other objects of interest, the things most important, desirable, and ter- rible in the universe; these things are placed before them, and pressed on them, as evidently and as closely and palpably, as reason and reve- lation can. We know what should be the effect of these. We can think what it should be on any individual whom the eye happens to fix upon, known or a stranger. We can look on the passing train, or the collected crowd, and think what it should be on each, and all. (What a measure therefore this would be of a good spirit in such an assemblage!) What 'is the effect on the far greater number? Thee are abundant indications to inform you what it is, or rather what it is not. And if the case be so, and that in an enlightened and Christian community, what is MAN ! " What is MAN !" might be the compassionate sentiment of an angelic beholder, or of a saint in heaven, supposing him in view of this object on earth ; observing a rational and immortal being, involved in a relation the most perfect, K2 244 EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION ENFORCED. vital, and inseparable with all that is most im- portant ; the reality of that relation manifested to him, enforced upon him ; and yet, he generally as insensible to it almost as a statue of stone is to the objects surrounding it ! But might not the compassion become mingled with indignation when it should be observed how unlike an insensible figure he is toward other objects with which his relation is separable and transient ? Nevertheless the great interest is still the same ; bears all the importance of eternity upon it ; remains as that sky above us, with its luminaries, and its solemn and infinite depth, whether we look at it or not. And the effects must be continually renewed for breaking up this wretched and pernicious indifference, both in others and in ourselves. And the considerations applicable to this pur- pose are innumerable, and have been all re- peated, times without number. But we may do well to give some moments once more to a few of the most obvious of them. A more proper admonition cannot be sug- gested in the first place than, to beware that the indifference of the feelings does not infect and pervert the judgment. In conjunction with such a state of the heart, it is hi great EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION ENFORCED. 245 danger of losing its firmness and correctness. How much more ready the judgment is to take its character from the feelings, than they theirs from it ! Without any approach to anything like a formal denial of the supreme importance of the spiritual and future interests, there may be an influence insidiously stealing through the estimates of the judgment, so that they shall be modified insensibly less decisively marked less positively pronounced. This may be by a gradual effect, without special thoughts and reasonings. Or, with the occasional interven- tion of thoughts such as this; " Surely man is not placed in a scene that he beholds, for the purpose chiefly of looking toward one that he cannot see. Can it be that I am sent into this busy and interesting world that my main busi- ness may be to think about going out of it. What ! am I here to make nothing of all this ? Under a reversed economy, have I most to do with what is furthest off? And also there is so much that I must attend to here; must, in duty, occupy my thoughts, cares, and tune with, that it were hard there should be another great exaction and burden continually upon me. I acknowledge the great importance of that other concern; but may I not hope that the 246 EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION ENFORCED. merciful Creator will take care of that for me ?" And so the judgment may be partly perverted to excuse the indifference. Let us beware of this seduction. As far as the judgment falls into conformity with wrong feelings, it is in vain to appeal to conscience; it retires under the protection of the judgment. And thus the soul is left deserted to the power of its perverse and irreligious dispositions. But let there be a settled conviction on the mind (not equivocated with, though unhappily too dormant and inoperative) that the spiritual and immortal interests really do demand earnest attention, and then a train of remonstrances against indifference and carelessness may be urged on that mind. It may be urged on such a man, Will you not, can you not resolve to converse with your own spirit sometimes? You can speak freely, and hear patiently, there. If it be a mortifying converse, there is none to over-hear it, but ONE ! and your self-love will be sure to survive unhurt. You can say to yourself, " It is really thus and thus that I firmly believe, and shall believe, in life, death, and to all eternity. But then here in my soul is the most astonishing inconsistency and con- tradictionnot a more dreadful one in the EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION ENFORCED. 247 creation; dreadful, for it is a practical one, in the very highest concern of a created being. The consequences of its continuance are plain before me, inevitable and terrible. And am I quietly to go on thus, thinking as little as I can about it ? Do I coolly consent that it shall be so, for the present at least, and for I know not how long?" Let him consider, and say " There they stand before me, not in a deceptive vision, but in absolute reality, the most important things that can be in the view of any being on this globe, or that has left it the Redeemer of man salvation perdition death judgment eter- nity ! They stand confronting me, that there may be in me something corresponding to them. And it is in the presence of GOD that I thus stand with these most awful objects before me; it is by his light that I see them; it is his author- ity, in its utmost fulness, that insists on their demand of a corresponding state of my mind; it is his voice that pronounces me lost, if that answerable state be not here. And yet, is it the fact, that I am indifferent still? Here is the soul that can acknowledge all this, and still not tremble, nor care, nor strive, nor pray ! can be at liberty for any pursuit, or gaiety, or 248 EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION ENFORCED. amusement !" One could almost imagine, that realizing such a state of things in a man's own soul, might produce an amazement enough to suspend for a while even the sense of personal interest; that a man might be absorbed awhile before he came again to the consciousness of being himself the subject; as we should look at some strange and dreadful phenomenon in the natural world. And in truth, there is no phenomenon in that world so portentous ! In such a condition (sensibly so, in a measure) men can give their attention and activity to all manner of interests and pursuits, many very trifling ones. But the remonstrance should follow them still. Recollect what it is that you are warmly pursuing this, to the neglect of, and in preference to ! And cannot you rise to the resolution of saying deliberately, " Why should this take the precedence, why 9 Is there one moment in which I seriously approve its doing so? Will there ever be such a moment ? and if there should ! Is not this my preference made on the very principle that creates all the evil and misery in the universe ? Is it not a perversity of will inclined to the worse ? Do I not know that I am giving this the preference by the neglect of an interest EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION ENFORCED. 249 infinite millions of times more important? Am I then an immortal, under some dreadful charm and curse, that dooms me to live but for the hour, or the day, or the few uncertain days of this my abode in the dust, unable to go forth in a capacious apprehension of the great hereafter? Or when shall the case cease to be thus?" If his mind answer evasively, " Not always will it be thus, I hope not long perhaps not to- morrow.'' Have you then (it might be said to him) such easy faith ? Do you adhere, for the present, to your preference, on a calculation of disgusting yourself at length with what you prefer ? that at the next turn, the right prefer- ence may be the easier? But why has the pre- ceding train of your wrong preferences done so little to disgust, or satiate, or change you ? Or if we shall suppose that there is often a certain degree of disgust and recoil ; that a sense of the vanity and insufficiency of things is forced on the soul ; that the heart cannot find the living element it longs for, in any of these terrestrial things ; so that the active spirit, for a while, remits, in disappointment, and is reduced to stand detached and retired. Why, this should be well ; but what is the conse- quence ? Alas ! too often, it but reverts awhile 250 EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION ENFORCED. in a gloomy mood to recover and look out to see where it may try again ! There is no look toward heaven, except perhaps, for a moment, in something like an emotion of revenge upon the earth ; let another delusive gleam of the world's sunshine come, and that emotion passes away! But these seasons of dissatisfaction and re- coil, this sickness of the heart, experienced in the exclusive pursuit of inferior interests, might be seized upon by the Christian admonisher. He would say, " Acknowledge that at these sea- sons you are in truth struck and troubled by a power from the other world, whether distinctly recognized or not; an obscure and suppressed sympathy with the true cause of happiness. There is a certain sense of an infinitely greater interest neglected. Consider those who are earnestly intent on the higher object, are they subject to these seasons of mortifying recoil from them ? Have they a forced perception of their vanity ? Are they almost ashamed of them ? And again, does there not come upon you sometimes an irresistible conviction that if you had long since become animated with the spirit of the religion of Christ, it would have been infinitely the best and happiest thing EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION ENFORCED. 251 that could have befallen you? Has not this conviction prompted you to exclaim, ' What a course of happy feeling and estimable life it would have been, as compared with my past existence ! One little stage of it would have been of more worth than all these long vain years have been. I should have walked with God thus far, and with his saints and angels.' " There are at least some who are visited with such reflections. But, we say, What then, NOW? Will you make this past, which you are com- pelled to condemn and deplore, the very prece- dent and pattern for what is to come ? Would it not to be the very worst effect of all, from this misapplied past, if it make you careless of the present and future ? if it chain you to a fatal consistency? It is enough for you that that past has lost itself! When this present too shall have become past, and lost, will it appear a good reason, that the preceding periods of life were so ? This time that is here, and that is coming on, lies between, on the one hand, a trifled-away portion of your existence, and the most grand and awful portion of it on the other ! Now, think, and choose in the presence of God, shall it be conformed to the character of the former or of the latter? Consider, 252 EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION ENFORCED. wherein would it have been so good, so happy a thing, that through preceding life you had been in earnest about the one thing needful ? wherein., but chiefly in the manner in which it would have been carrying you forward toward the Great Futurity ! Well ! but you are going toward that same Futurity ! it is the one con- stant inevitable action of life ; your progress is not turning another way than in the former stages; it has no reversed or circuitous move- ment ; it is direct, and think how rapid ! And every step seems to belong more to that awful futurity and its realities, than the preceding ; by the same rule that the last step, which is to be into eternity, appears to have a transcendent importance, so in proportion all that are approx- imating it. Now if you allow that, in regard to that Futurity, it would have been so happy, that the progress hitherto had been in the earnest spirit of a Christian, what do you think of the remaining progress from this point, with the realities in prospect, shall we say, rising higher and larger, and more majestic above the horizon of your view ? Consider too, that whatever the world and time could have given you from the first, they can at all events give you much less now, and what is sooner to be taken away. EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION ENFORCED. 253 Wlien, and by what, shall this sad indifference be broken up and leave you ? Would you quietly wait for some alarming dispensation of Providence to do it ? to be admonished as Pharaoh was, in vain? Would you wait till some heavy affliction ? till some disaster in your worldly affairs? till another dear relative or friend shall die ? till a severe sickness, with imminent threatenings of death ? Can you be content to wait for such visitations ? and with the perfect certainty that, if they should come, and should effectually alarm you out of this indifference, that alarm will be mingled with an aggravated remorse, and indeed will very much consist of it ? remorse especially to think that " the goodness of God " has not " led to repentance?" But have no such visitations come to you already ? What was their effect ? Are you to be so much more sensible to the impressions of the next ? or do you wish them to be ten-fold more severe ? If you can wish so, the interest for which you wish so, must be most urgent! But if it be so urgent, why neglected now? Consider, besides, that the next severe visita- tion may be the last of life ; may be a fatal disaster ; may be a mortal illness ! Or, would 254 EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION ENFORCED. you wait for old age ? What ! because it is confessedly a great moral miracle for a man careless till old age, to be awakened then ! Or, will a man profane a Christian doctrine, and say, the Spirit of God alone can be efficacious, and he must quietly wait for that? This is saying, in effect, that he will make a trial with Omnipotence, and resist as long as he can ! And how can he anticipate any other than a destructive energy from that Spirit upon him, while he is trifling with, and frustrating truth conviction warnings and emotions of con- science ! while he is repelling all these minor operations of that Spirit, instead of earnestly praying for the greater ! It were most wicked thus to pretend a reverence for the ultimate powers of the Divine Spirit, and at the same time make light of what comes from that Spirit already. How dreadfully obstinate a state is this care- less indifference ! But nevertheless we can imagine situations under the force of which it must give way ! Imagine them ! but that is not all : we are certain to be in one or other of them, sometime ! Happy will it be, if the love of Christ shall effectually constrain us; if there be a prevailing impression that our EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION ENFORCED. 255 affections and powers are due to him ; that we must do something for him, and his great cause, while we are on earth. Happy ! if an ardent desire of heaven ; happy ! even if the thought of the " terrors of the Lord," should contribute to persuade us! But though all these should fail, and leave us indifferent still, there will be in reserve, that which cannot fail, situations and circumstances of irresistible power ! And can a man calmly refer himself to these ! Can a man say, " I know I must awake from this indifference at last I will indulge it till then!" " Here is a dull, stupified state of soul, but there will be blows upon it so mighty as to make it quiver with the intensest feeling ! " " I am making light of anticipations; well, the realities will come ! " " Here I am, easily soothing my conscience ; well, it is but that it may rise upon me with tremendous strength ! " " Now I am lightly dismissing, or evading a solemn and alarming reflection ; well, it goes away but to come back as if transformed into an avenging spirit !" "I am dissipating my mind upon trifles, be it so, a tempest will arise which will blast them all away!" "I am now but in order to what I shall be then; what I shall be then will remind me of what I 256 EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION ENFORCED. am now!" Such a man can now put in words some of the sentiments, the reflections, the emotions, which his earnestness may breathe itself in, in the hour of death. Let him do it ; and then say whether there be anything possi- ble or~ conceivable in this world that he should be so anxious for, as that he may not so be in earnest at that hour. This is the appeal to Fear, a just and salutary appeal; but think, how strange it is, that it should be necessary to lay the emphasis here ; when that which the soul is called and excited to be in earnest for is an infinite good! deliverance from all evil salvation eternal blessedness ! Here are ob- jects of mightiest attraction for the better pas- sions, and yet it is necessary to work by fear ! as if mere escape, and impunity, and safety, were all ! as if it were no good for ourselves, and only to please or pacify a power to which we are in subjection! What a manifestation of the fallen state of our nature ! Finally, let us beware of the delusive feeling as if indifference, however prolonged, had still nothing in it of the nature of a decision ; as if it were but remaining in a kind of suspension and protracted equipoise. Are we insensible that an additional weight is falling all the EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION ENFORCED. 257 while on the other side, by mere time itself which is going, particle by particle, to the wrong; by irreligious habit, which is grow- ing stronger and stronger; and by negation, refusal, all the while, of what is claimed by the higher interest ? We decide against that which we refuse to adopt. So that prolonged indiffer- ence is decision so far ; and indifference to the end will but be decision completed ! October 3, 1822. LECTURE XVI. THE USES AND PERVERSIONS OF CONSCIENCE. ROMANS ii. 14, 15. The gentiles having not the law are a law unto themselves : which show the work of the law written in their hearts, their conscience also bearing witness, and their thoughts the meanwhile accusing or else excusing one another. "HAVING not the law," that is, without a positive law revealed from God: yet there is "a law written in their hearts." The apostle therefore asserts, that man is, essentially, by his very nature, a moral being ; naturally has some sense of right and wrong ; which moral sense operates to two effects: opinions, judg- ments which men form of one another ; and judgments, under the name of " conscience," which they are compelled to form of them- selves. This natural sense of difference between THE USES AND PERVERSIONS OF CONSCIENCE. 259 good and evil is made an inseparable com- panion and supplement to the endowment of reason. If there had not been this principle in the very constitution of man, it is not con- ceivable how any positive dictates from the Creator and Governor could have sufficed to impart it; that is, in the form of conscience. This natural principle has certain perceptions and powers antecedently to the revealed will of God. But, the dictates of that Supreme Authority having been given, this conscience ought to be indefinitely stronger, truer, and more decisive. A most important principle in our nature, is this conscience, which places us in a sensible connexion with the government of the world. The whole world is under a solemn economy of government and judgment. A mighty spirit of judgment is in sovereign exercise over all, discerning, estimating, approving, or condemn- ing. Now it was requisite there should be something in the soul to recognize this; that it should not be as some vague unperceived element around us; and something more and deeper than the mere simple understanding that such is the fact; a faculty to be impressed, to feel obligation, and awe, and solemn apprehen- 8 2 260 THE USES AND PERVERSIONS sion; something by which the mind shall be compelled to admit the indwelling of what re- presents a greater power. Conscience is to com- municate with something mysteriously great, which is without the soul, and above it, and every where. It is the sense, more explicit or obscure, of standing in judgment before the Almighty. And that which makes a man feel so, is a part of himself; so that the struggle against God becomes a struggle with man's own soul. Therefore conscience has been often denominated " the God in man." This internal judge has not been in the world altogether in vain. Let it but be imagined how many men have wished they could be rid of it. Let it be imagined with how many men it has interfered to disturb and oppose them. Now in most of that vast multitude of cases it may be presumed that conscience has had some restrain- ing effect. It maintained a controversy with them ; arrested them ; followed them ; warned them ; threatened them ; rose up in them sud- denly, at tunes, to protest or condemn in the name of a higher power. Perhaps in no case this could be wholly without effect. The in- finite multitude of criminals would have been still more criminal but for this. It has often OP CONSCIENCE. 261 struck an irresolution, a timidity, into the sin- ner, by which his intention has been frustrated. Its bitter and vindictive reproaches after sin, have prevented so speedy or frequent repeti- tions of the sin. It has prevented the whole man from being gratified by sin; it has been one dissentient power among his faculties, as if, among a company of gay revellers, there should appear one dark and frowning intruder, whom they could neither conciliate nor expel. It has been at hand to approve, attest, apply, the divine declarations, commands, reproofs, and warnings, when sinners have heard them. It O y has struck on the soul, and said, "Listen to that! that belongs to thee /" An ally, there- fore, in men's own minds, to co-operate with those who have faithfully spoken in the name of God. It has served as an interpreter of divine judgments with which men have been visited ; not allowed them to be taken as mere natural incidents and phenomena, but judicial and retributive. In many ways, therefore, it has been, if we may presume to express it so, the justifier of God to men's own minds ; the justifier, also, of the genuine people of God. It has often compelled confessions and disclosures of great importance to truth and justice. Very 2OZ THE USES AND PERVERSIONS generally, in the last scene of life, it has con- strained men, even bad and irreligious men, to give explicit solemn testimony to the reality of religion, and the guilt and wretchedness of trifling with it. But, better than all this; the force of con- science has often been made effectual to urge men to a persevering application to divine mercy; with a grateful accordance to the method of that mercy, as acting through the mediation of Christ. The guilt is too deep for divine justice to pardon. There must be some grand expedient as a medium of mercy. And here it is. And also, the virtue, and value, and glory of conscience have been manifested in its habitual predominance in the spirit and conduct of good men. A good conscience has been the source of unspeakable complacency and delight ; it has been mighty in trial and temptation ; consolatory under injustice, re- proach, and undeserved ignominy ; a sublime energy under persecution for fidelity to God. Thus far we have the more favourable view of the office and efficacy of conscience. But there is a darker side of the subject ; that is, the view of its perversions and frustration. One most disastrous circumstance is instantly pre- OF CONSCIENCE. 263 seated to our thoughts, namely, that, with by far the greatest number of men that have lived, conscience has been separated from all true knowledge of God. All heathens, of all ages and countries ; with but little limitation the same may be said of the Mahomedans ; and to a very great extent it is true of the papists. Now, God is both the essential authority of conscience, and the model for its rectitude. What is its condition, then, where the One True God is lost from human knowledge ? and instead, an infinite tribe of deities, believed or fancied, and worshipped ; their characters ex- emplifying all varieties of iniquity ; their wills dictating a confusion of all absurdities and abominations, blended, indeed, with some better things, which are spoiled and defeated in such combination. Or, (paganism being disclaimed) there is an essentially falsified notion of the Divine Being, and a perverted apprehension of his will. Think what an authority for con- science to acknowledge and represent, and to be strong and just in virtue of! What will be its allowances, its dictates, its sanctions? What should it do but correspond to its authorities? With a firm belief in the true God, but with a wrong apprehension of some 264 THE USES AND PERVERSIONS great principle relative to him, conscience may become the abettor, and even prompter, of the most flagrant iniquities ; as in the instance of St. Paul, and some of the persecutions and exterminations by the papists. " He that kill- eth you shall think he doeth God service." A perpetrator in the St. Bartholomew massacre said, " God was obliged to me that day." We need do no more than just name the immense account of idle superstitions, in rites of worship, on which conscience has fixed its most per- emptory injunction. Whole days would not suffice to enumerate even those within the " Christian world." Conscience has often been beguiled to admit trifling ceremonies as an ex- piation of great sins, or of a whole life of iniquity ; when, had it been in its right state, it would have shaken the whole soul, as with an earthquake. If such notices be little applicable to us, there are, however, many that are most seriously so. One important admonition is, that conscience may suffer itself to be very much conformed to prevailing customs and notions. That which has the concurrence of so many to think, and say, and practise, is easily allowed to become a standard ; not, it is acknowledged, a rigid and OP CONSCIENCE. 265 perfectly justifying one, but one that may ex- cuse. In spreading and becoming attenuated over the multitude, a censure becomes as no- thing. Conscience, that ought to be ever look- ing to the throne and law of God, may be degraded to this most irreligious homage to man. It has glimpses sometimes, indeed, and menacing intimations of a higher authority and law; but suffers a willing relapse, a habitual acquiescence. So that the superior and eternal order of principles is nearly out of sight, (as in some countries they rarely see the sun or the stars). When, at moments, conscience does attempt to resume a little of the genuine spirit and principles of its office, it is solicited to look out on the world, (not the most wicked part of the world, but what may be esteemed a de- corous and somewhat respectable part of it,) and see whether the common notions, estimates, and practices, do not warrant in me, that which it is disposed to accuse. Let me be tried by my peers ! And the consequence is as if con- science grew ashamed, and became silent felt itself convicted of being a Puritan ! Observe the next consequence, when this false system is settled in the mind, as right or nearly so, it is only from thence, only beyond THE USES AND PERVERSIONS that which general custom warrants, that con- science has to begin its jurisdiction and opera- tions, that is, it will have nothing or little to take account of, short of positive vices and crimes. Therefore, it will begin with slight censures at a point where very grave ones ought to have been pronounced. Supposing the whole of what the divine law condemns, (and therefore conscience ought,) to be measured by a scale of one hundred degrees of aggrava- tion, then, the censure beginning at one, will become extremely severe by the time of rising to fifty. But let this first fifty be struck off, as harmless, in accommodation to the, general no- tions and customs, what then ? Why then, conscience will but begin, and in slight terms, its censures at the fifty-first degree, and so, at the very top of the scale, will pronounce with but just that emphasis which was due at the point where it began. (An exemplification of the effect of taking common notions and pre- vailing custom as the standard, is given in Bonaparte's estimate of himself, in O'Meara's book.) Observe again, conscience is extremely liable to be accommodated to each man's own interests, passions, and tastes. These are the constant OP CONSCIENCE. 267 favourites of the man's heart ; while his con- science is often an unwelcome indweller there. What will he not do to reconcile it or make it submit to them ? For them he will not part with, and it perhaps he finds he cannot, at least not speedily. Well ; he has great advan- tages against his conscience. The favourite interest or inclination he sets in the fairest light ; in excuse, he recalls the circumstances that contribute to make it ascendant in him ; palliations of what is wrong in it multiply ; it is far less culpable than many things in others which they think very venial. He has this and the other good thing to make a great overbalance. But also, the thing excepted to by his conscience is far from being wholly wrong ; the degree in which it is right is easily mag- nified to appear the much greater proportion ; there is such and such good to which it will turn to account. Now it is not strange if, by this time, his conscience has come to speak in a much more submissive voice. And, melancholy as the fact is, there are few things that gratify a corrupt mind more than to have gained a victory over conscience. Again, conscience may, in a great a degree, be turned, bv effort and art, from the scrutiny THE USES AND PERVERSIONS of internal principles, to a judgment on bare external actions. The actions, taken simply as such, may have far less to be condemned than the internal principles; perhaps are laudable. Now conscience, by having its dwelling deep within, has a great advantage as a judge, in comparison of outward observers. It is seated, with its lamp, down in the hidden world, among the vital sentiments and movements, at the radical depth of the dispositions, at the very springs of action, among the thoughts, motives, intentions, and wishes. The greater the griev- ance ! But how to obviate it? Expedients are not wanting. Labour to think, that what is practical is of far greater importance than what exists merely in feelings and thoughts. Say, feelings and thoughts are varying and transient ; actions are of much more substantial and permanent account. Say, these principles within do injury to none ; the right actions do much good. These thoughts and movements within are much involuntary ; the outward conduct is the result of will and effort. Look so much on the best parts of the right conduct, as to become emboldened to make the inference " the case is not so wrong within as con- science had attempted to charge," for, " by OP CONSCIENCE. 269 their fruits shall men be known." Thus, in a measure, may conscience be beguiled out of its inward watching place, to be content to look only at the outside. Another observation is, that when con- science is seriously alarmed, it may be quieted by delusive applications. There are painful emotions of guilt; the dreadful sound of the maledictions of the divine law; dread of the righteous inflictions of the Almighty. Oh, that faithful truth, and an invincible power of im- pression, might come on conscience at such a time ! But how often all this is rendered in vain ! And thus ; " there will be time enough, yet, for repentance, reformation, and final escape." Or, sometimes, sophistical reasonings to invalidate every formidable idea of the divine justice. Sometimes these alarms are calmed and frustrated by treacherous presump- tions as to the way of propitiating the Divine Justice ; men may reconcile God by repentance (" I have only to be sorry, and all will be set right") ; satisfy his demands by a reformed con- duct ; secure final safety by a careful obedience, instead of a humble recourse exclusively to the all-sufficient work of the Redeemer. This last is a deadly treachery practised on conscience, 270 THE USES AND PERVERSIONS for it is quieting its alarms exactly by inducing it to abjure that very law which is its appointed standard, and of which it is its very office to be the representative and sanction. We have spoken of alarms of conscience; but another melancholy fact respecting con- science is, that it can be reduced to a state of habitual insensibility. There are men in the full vigour of life and activity, body and soul, in whom this sense is in a deep sleep, like death. If this appear desirable, it may be attained ! By means of, a practice of tampering and equivocating with it; by a careful avoidance of all that might alarm it; continual neglect of its admonitions; a determined resistance and re- pression; and habits of sin. The result of this will be a deep torpor and stupefaction of the conscience, so that the whole system that should be under its cognizance is left fatally free; a thousand things that ought to excite it, pass, and it hears not, sees not: the man might go into its retired apartment, and look upon it as an enemy dead ! Think of his advantage and triumph, in looking at other men who are trou- bled by a wakeful, interfering conscience ! But does this dead stillness of conscience appear an awful situation? Why does it so? Because OP CONSCIENCE. 271 we foresee that it will awake ! and with an in- tensity of life and power proportioned to this long sleep, as if it had been growing gigantic during its slumber. It will rise up with all that superiority of vigour with which the body will rise at the resurrection. It will awake ! probably in the last hours of life. But if not, it will nevertheless awake ! In the other world there is something which will certainly awake it, at the last day ! If a man feels it going to slumber, he should just listen to it while it warns him that it will awake ! Its last emotions that disturb him he should interpret as such a prediction. And let him consider that during its slumber, there will have been the more rapid accumulation of what it is to take account of. We close with a word or two respecting the right treatment of conscience. It should be regarded with deep respect, even its least inti- mations attended to not slighted as scrupulous impertinences blown away. &c. We should diligently aim at a true judgment of things, because our judgment is the rule by which conscience will proceed. There must be much reflection, in the proper sense of the word, and retirement. We should recollect always that, 272 THE USES AND PERVERSIONS OF CONSCIENCE. on the whole, the most judicial conscience is less rigid and comprehensive than the divine law; less so than the judgment of God. "If our heart condemn us, God is greater than our heart." Therefore, in consulting conscience, we should endeavour to realize to ourselves the Divine presence. We should seek and implore, that our consciences may ever be in the Divine keeping rather than our own. Finally, as we often speak of improvements in the Christian life, improvements indispen- sable as evidence that any real progress is made, be it remembered, that one of them is, an improvement in the discerning sensibility, and extent of jurisdiction of conscience. And, if this very improvement will have its evils, as involving an increase of solicitudes, pains, penitential emotions, so much the more desir- able will appear that better world where there is no possibility of sin, where the continued improvement of spiritual perception will be a continually augmented exquisiteness of the felicity. October 28, 1822. LECTURE XVII. THE AUTUMN AND ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. ISAIAH Ixiv. 6. We all do fade as a leaf. OUR lives have been prolonged to witness once more within the last few weeks, the wide progress of decay over the field of nature. The infinite masses of foliage, which unfolded so beautifully in vegetable life, in the spring, and have adorned our landscape during the summer, have faded, fallen, and perished. We have beheld the " grace of the fashion" of them dis- closed, continuing awhile bright in the sun- shine, and gone for ever. Now our text (with many other passages of the same character) ad- monishes us not to see the very leaves fade, without being reminded that something else is also fading; this is a fact more intimately T 274 THE AUTUMN, realized to us than any thing in the external world can be, but of which we have a most marvellous faculty, if we may so call it, of being insensible. Is it not so ? How many of us can, or can any of us say, they have had during the recent season, as distinct and pro- longed a reflection on the fact, that our own mortal existence is fading, as we have had a perception of the fading and extinction of ve- getable life ? It would seem as if the continued pressure of ill health, or the habitual spectacle of sickness and decline in our friends, were necessary in order to keep us reminded of the truth which is expressed in the text. We should do well to fix our attention awhile on this very pernicious fact, of our inaptitude to feel and reflect that our mortal condition is fading; and then to note and urge a few of those monitory circumstances which verify this our declining state. Let us look a little at the habits of our feeling, in regard to this matter. And, first, we are very unapt to recognize the common lot and destiny of all human life, that it is to fade, and is fading. The vast world of the departed is out of our sight, even what was the material and visible part. What is constantly in our sight is the world of the AND ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. 275 living; and we are unapt to think of them as all appointed not to be living. Perhaps it was but very few times in the life of the Persian monarch that he was in so reflective and moral a mood, as when, looking on his innumerable army, he thought, and wept to think, that in less than a century they would all be dead. And in our own case, while we see the count- less population, in all the passions and actions of life, it is but now and then, perhaps rather unfrequently, that the reflection, like a solemn shade, comes over us, " these are all hastening out of sight, tending to dissolution and dust! Such a living scene our ancestors beheld; but where are now both those they looked on and themselves ?" Man as he is, fills the attention, and precludes the thought of man as he is appointed and going to be. And we may note a circumstance which aids the deception, namely, that the most decayed and faded portion of the living world is much less in sight than the fresh and vigorous. Think how many infirm, sick, debilitated, languishing, and almost dying persons there are, that are rarely or never out in public view, not met in our streets, roads, or places of resort, not in our religious assemblies ! And then " out of T 2 276 THE AUTUMN, sight, out of mind" in a great degree! Thus we look at the living world so as not to read the destiny written on every forehead, and in this thoughtlessness are the more apt to forget our own. But, again, we are very prone to forget it, that is, our own destiny, even while we do re- cognize the general appointment to fade and vanish. The great general appointment is brought in our view, by many things which we cannot help perceiving. There is no avoid- ing to observe something of the process of fading. It is obvious that many of our fellow- mortals are dying; that many are pining in sickness, and consuming away under incurable distempers; that many are changing in ap- pearance, withering down, gradually declining in strength, and sinking into infirmity and feebleness. But, nevertheless, we have some unaccountable power and instinct to dissociate ourselves from the general condition and rela- tionship of humanity. " All men think all men mortal but themselves." " / am not hopelessly sick. /am not sinking into feebleness. /am not withering within an inch of the dust." And this is thoughtlessly suffered to become, in the feeling, or rather insensibility, of the mind, AND ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. 277 much the same thing as if / had no such thing to apprehend ; as if that general lot were not mine ! Have you not been sometimes struck or amazed at this, in observing others, or in self- reflection ? How is it (you have said) how comes it to be possible, that men can see the partakers of their own nature and destiny, withering and falling from the tree of life (so to speak), and calmly look at them in their fall and in the dust, with hardly one pointed reflec- tion turned on themselves ? As if the careless spectator should say, " Well, they must go: there is no help for them ! unfortunate lot ! but it is nothing to me, except to pity them for a moment, and be glad that I am under no such disastrous decree ?" So little is there of omin- ous sympathy felt, while men see neighbours, acquaintance, friends, relatives, one by one, fading, falling, and vanishing ! It may seem as if they were not considered as having belonged to the great human fraternity; as if they had not been exemplifications of what man is, and is appointed to, to admonish and alarm those who continue to live, but ill-fated exceptions to the common lot, to give the rest an occasion of triumph, that they exist under quite a different 278 THE AUTUMN, law ; " They were not of us, for if they had been of us, they would not have gone from us." Or as if each survivor, especially if in health, and not old, believed the antediluvian privilege of longevity had devolved to him, regarding those who have departed as of the frail race of seventy years ! And if the actual vanishing of individuals from the grand community is taken so lightly by those who remain, it is no wonder that seeing persons decline and fade into old age and infirmity should have little sympathetic power to remind others of their own frail mor- tality; at least those who are a stage or two less advanced in life, even though it were but a difference of ten or fifteen years. Thus men are under some kind of spell and beguilement on their feeling which denies them the sense of being involved in the common lot. It is true, it were absurd to imagine there should on the supposition of the most perfectly rectified and expanded state of human feeling, be such a kind of community-sentiment (so to call it) as if they were almost to feel their own infirmity and decline, in mere sympathy with that of others. But still this self-defensive un- concern, this not being forcibly admonished that our lot is of a piece with the common lot, AND ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. 279 is an unnatural and irrational state of mind. And pernicious too ; are not, for example, young persons all the worse, in point of wisdom, and the right purpose and use of life, from allowing themselves to regard their condition as so entirely disconnected with old age, so un- related to it, as if centuries and centuries had to pass away, before they should become old? Are not those who are in strong health as if they were on a different planet from those who are feeble or sick ? Are not the living, as if it never could be, that they should come to be in the state of the dead ? It is but little varying the illustration to ob- serve, that we are apt to regard life much more as a thing that we positively possess than as a thing that we are losing, and in a train to cease possessing. (We are considering life in the sense of the duration of living.) We thought- lessly permit an imposition on our feelings, as if life were a substantive property, which we pos- sessed years since, and equally now possess. To be alive is the same consciousness now as then ; and so we forget the essentially different con- dition we are in. Life in the case of a being that should be certainly immortal might be con- sidered as an absolute possession. But with us, 280 THE AUTUMN, life is expenditure : we have it but as continually losing it; we have no use of it, but as con- tinually wasting it. Suppose a man confined in some fortress, under the doom to stay there till his death ; and suppose there is there for his use, a dark reservoir of water, to which it is certain none can ever be added. He knows, suppose, that the quantity is not very great; he cannot penetrate to ascertain how much, but it may be very little. He has drawn from it by means of a fountain a good while already, and draws from it every day; but how would he feel each time of drawing, and each time of thinking of it? not as if he had a perennial spring to go to; not, "I have a reservoir, I may be at ease." No ! but, " I had water yesterday; I have water to-day; but my having had it, and my having it to-day, is the very cause that I shall not have it on some day that is approaching. And at the same time I am compelled to this fatal expenditure ! " So of our mortal, transient life ! And yet men are very indisposed to admit the plain truth that life is a thing which they are in no other way possessing, than as necessarily consum- ing; and that even in this imperfect sense of possession, it becomes every day less a posses- AND ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. 281 sion ! Nay, we sometimes see that the longer a man has been in the expenditure of it, the more securely he seems to feel it a property positive, entire, and his own. With many, the plain testimony of time comes home with far too little force, time had, and spent, and gone, since their recorded na- tivity. They have attained the age of forty, fifty, fifty-five, sixty, or more, and yet will not lay it to heart, that they, have entered, or gone a great way forward in the latter part of any probable length of life. It may be observed that some persons, after arriving at the part of life which we call " mid- dle age," remain a good while but little altered in their feeling of health, in their power of ac- tivity, or even in their appearance, a great privilege ! but if they be not persons of serious reflection, it may be very pernicious to their highest interests. They will allow themselves to feel as if they still belonged to a much earlier stage. They can associate still with the youth- ful, on somewhat like equal terms. They will consolidate all their worldly habits, and give themselves up to schemes formed for a long time to come. They feel as if they had a fine, long, protracted, summer season, to make the 282 THE AUTUMN, most of life and the world. They reckon, pro- bably, on the utmost term of mortal life, and with great self-complacency, pass by the graves of their departed sickly coevals. Some of these persons retain so much spirit, vivacity, activity, and good appearance, that they are not as yet much haunted with the aversion and dread of being accounted old. But it is obvious to remark, that many per- sons fading into the decline of life, betray a solicitous reluctance to being considered and classed with the elderly and the old. They discover, perhaps in spite of some effort, a sen- sation of chagrin at hearing expressions which directly, or by implication, assign them to the aged class; prematurely assign them they think, or would have it thought ; so that it be- comes a point of complaisance to beware of using any such expressions in their presence. Some such persons have recourse to expedients, undignified, and at the same time unavailing, for the purpose of keeping their former ground, as, an ill-judged labour of personal decora- tion, a style of dress and ornaments perhaps little worthy of intelligence and piety at any age; but at any rate inappropriate to any but the more lightsome form and unfaded counte- AXD ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. 283 nance; a forced, over-acted vivacity, even an attempted rivalry, with not the gaiety only, but the very levity of youth, as if they posi- tively would not be old enough to be grave on any subject; a resolute addiction to amuse- ments, and what is called company. Such are some of the characteristics of men's insensibility to the solemn fact that " we all do fade as a leaf." Now this insensibility is partly wilful ; for it is partly owing to our indulging a reluctance to perceive and think of the signs and proofs which remind us of the fact that we are fading. Therefore it is highly proper there should be a solemn remonstrance against this perverse indisposition, and an endeavour to press on the attention those circumstances and reflections which are adapted to remind us of the fading, vanishing condition of our mortal existence. They are in mighty number ! If the soul would expand itself, and with a lively sensibility to receive upon it the significance, the glancing intimation, the whispered monition of all things that are adapted to remind it of the fact, what a host of ideas would strike it ! Then we should hardly see a shadow pass, or a vapour rise, or a flower fade, -or a leaf fall, still less a human visage withered in age, 284 THE AUTUMN, but we should have a thought of the transient continuance of our life. We can only note a few of the things that suggests this instruction. It would not be foreign to the purpose to reflect how many successive generations of men have faded and vanished since the text itself was written ; as many as there have been falls of the leaf since the first autumn which the oldest person among us can remember (at the average duration). Let such a person glance on the long repetition of this great change over the face of the earth, and think of MAN ! And imagine some great spirit to have been an observer of the human race through all this series of ages ! within his view the entire mul- titude gone once, and once again, and still again ! To our view, however, there is a grand cir- cumstance of deception, with respect to the removal and the renewal of the race. Human beings are continually going and coming, so that, though all die, MAN, in his vast assem- blage, is always here. If there were not an essential absurdity in making the supposition that a great majority of the whole race were, at successive periods, to sink in dissolution at once (or such a portion as inhabited any one coun- AND ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. 285 try), that might be imagined an amazingly striking phenomenon to those that remained, to grow into another population. But the order of the world is that men be withdrawn one by one, one here and one there, leaving the mighty mass, to general appearance, still entire. (Ex- cept in the case of vast and desolating calami- ties.) And thus we see nothing parallel to the general autumnal fading of the leaf. More like the evergreens, which lose their leaves by indi- viduals, and still maintain their living foliage, to the thoughtless spectator, the human race is presented under such a fallacious appearance, as if it always lived. But a man should have serious consideration enough to look through this deception. An aged person (especially if he has always con- tinued chiefly in one neighbourhood) can verify to himself that he has actually seen one whole distinguishable generation fade and disappear; can recollect who his early acquaintances were around the district, and has seen them gradually go ; and now sees that they are nearly all gone, only himself and a very few others remaining, like the last few faded leaves, lingering and fluttering on a tree. Indeed, if a very old man, he has seen the main substance THE AUTUMN, of two generations vanish. But let those even in very early life consider, that they have seen one and another near them fade and fall ; and how many before what we regard as the proper season for fading ! And here another warning suggestion arises ; namely, that we allow ourselves to miscalculate the appropriate season for fading. Our imagin- ation places that season in old age. Most delu- sively ! for surely that cannot be taken as the appropriate season, long previously to which the grand majority actually do fade into disso- lution. Those who live to quite an advanced old age are so vastly smaller a proportion, that it were most absurd to take them as representa- tive of the human lot, in respect to length of life. The period to be accounted in a general collec- tive calculation, as the proper term of mortality, cannot rightly be placed beyond such a stage in life as a large proportion of men do attain, but not exceed. The comparison with the leaves here again fails. The main mass of the foliage of the forest does continue on to the late period which none of it can survive. Not so in the case of human beings. The great majority of them are not appointed to reach what we are accustomed to regard as the late AND ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. 287 autumn of life. And therefore young persons are to be earnestly warned against calculating on that as even a probability. They are apt to overlook, in their calculation, all causes of de- cay and dissolution but that of mere protracted time. But do let them consider how few com- paratively are left to the mere wearing out by time ! On the field of life there are a thousand things in operation to anticipate time. And these are to be taken into the account, and as forming the far greater part of it, in conjectur- ing at any probable term for the duration of life. And if these be taken into the account, how very limited is the term of probability ! Then let no young persons amuse themselves with flattering lies, and say, " We may probably live to the far off term of eighty !" But some of them may perhaps truly say, " We do not much think about such calculations in any way. It is enough that for the present we are youth- ful and blooming ; there is no fading, nor sign of its approach." Well ! so have many felt, and perhaps said, in answer to grave admoni- tions, who before the next, that is, the recent fall of the leaf, have withered and died ! And so before the fading of next autumn will many, many more, now gay and blooming. 288 THE AUTUMN, But without insisting on these threatening possibilities of premature decline, consider, that to a reflective mind, the constant, inevitable progress toward fading would appear very much related to it ; to have daily, less and less of that intermediate space which is all that there can be between. One has looked sometimes on the flowers of a meadow which the mower's scythe was to invade the next day; perfect life and beauty as yet, but to the mind they have seemed already fading, through the anticipation. If we turn to those who are a good way, or quite far advanced in life, they can tell how rapidly that vernal season has passed away; how much it looks in the review like an abso- lutely preternatural fleetness of time. As to their now more advanced period, there are many palpable intimations in their experience to re- mind them of the truth in the text. Even those who are ranked as the middle aged, have much that speaks to them in a serious and warning voice. They are most of them sensible by their consciousness, as well as by the record of years, that one grand season of their terres- trial existence is gone by. Let them think what they feel to be gone; freshness of life; vernal prime ; overflowing spirits ; elastic, AND ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. 289 bounding vigour ; insuppressible activity ; quick, ever varying emotion; delightful un- folding of the faculties ; the sense of more and more power of both body and spirit; the pros- pect as if life were entire before them; and all overspread with brightness and fair colours ! This is gone ! and this change is not a little toward the fading. Those poignantly feel it to be so who look back with sadness, or with vain fretfulness, to think it cannot be recalled. But there are still more decided indications of decay. Some, indeed, as we observed, re- main considerably stationary; but, as to the majority, there are circumstances that will not let them forget whereabouts they are in life ; feelings of positive infirmity; diminished power of exertion; grey hairs; failure of sight; besetting pains; apprehensive caution against harm and inconvenience; often what are called nervous affections ; slight injuries to the body far less easily repaired. All this is a great progress in the fading. And the appear- ance partakes of and indicates the decline ; not so perceptible to the person himself, or to constant associates, but often strikes acquaint- ance who see one another after long absence. From this stage there is a very rapid descent u 290 THE AUTUMN, toward complete old age, with its accumulated privations and oppressions ; general prostration of strength ; often settled disorders operating with habitual grievance ; loss of memory ; furrows marking the countenance; great suffering by little inconveniences ; confinement in a great measure to a spot ; a strange and mighty disseverment, as it were, from the man's own earthly youthful self. In some instances there is a last decline into an utterly withered state of existence ; imbecility wholly of body and mind. The final point is that of the fallen leaves, to be reduced to dust. And thus in so many ways is the text verified. It will perhaps, be said, " This is a most gloomy view of human life. Why exhibit it at such width, and darken it with so many aggra- vations of shade, as if to cloud the little sun- shine that glimmers on our lot ?" We answer, nothing worth is that sunshine that will not pierce radiantly through this cloud. No com- placency, no cheerfulness, no delight, is worth having that cannot be enjoyed together with the contemplation of this view of our mortal con- dition. Such an exhibition is it truth? is it fact ? and is it truth and fact irresistibly bearing on our own concern ? Then the endeavour to AND ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. 291 be escaping from the view and thought of it would be a thing incomparably more gloomy to behold than all that this exhibition presents; because that would betray the want, the ne- glect, the rejection of the grand resource against the gloom of our mortal state and destiny. To an enlightened beholder of mankind, it is not their being all under the doom to fade, be dissolved, and vanish, it is not that that strikes him as the deepest gloom of the scene ; no ! but their being thoughtless of this their con- dition, their not seeking the true and all- powerful consolation under it ; their not earnestly looking and aiming toward that glori- ous state into which they may emerge from this fading and perishing existence. The melancholy thing, by emphasis, is, that beings under such a doom should disregard that grand countervail- ing economy of the divine beneficence in which " life and immortality are brought to light," in which the Lord of life has himself submitted to the lot of mortals in order to redeem them to the prospect of another life, where there is no fading, decline, or dissolution ! Let us not, then, absurdly turn from the view because it is grave and gloomy, but dwell u 2 292 THE AUTUMN, ETC. upon it, often and intensely, for the great pur- pose of exciting our spirits to a victory over the vanity of our present condition; to gain from it, through the aid of the Divine Spirit, a mighty impulse toward a state of ever-living, ever-blooming existence beyond the sky. A man who feels this would accept no substitute consolation against the gloomy character of this mortal life ; not the highest health, not the most exuberant spirits, nor early youth itself, if it were possible for that to be renewed. " No, rather let me fade let me languish let me feel that mortality is upon me, and that the terrestrial scene is darkening around me, but with this inspiration of faith and hope this rising energy which is already carrying me out of an existence which is all frailty, into one of vigour, and power, and perpetuity ! " 1825. LECTURE XVIIL ELIJAH'S SACRIFICE. 1 KINGS xviii. THIS piece of sacred history, so wonderful itself, is surrounded by wonders, in the preced- ing and folio whig portions; something like a volcanic tract, where the marks of a stupendous agency remain conspicuous on every side. The preceding chapter relates the prophet's denun- ciation to Ahab, " There shall not be dew nor rain these years, but according to my word." The expression is indeterminate, as to the length of time. It imports thus much; "there will be no rain till I shall say that there will, and that will not be for several years." It was, in the event, three years and a half. The apostle James says that " Elijah prayed earnestly that it might not rain," on the principle that the severest chastisement is better than unchecked 294 ELIJAH'S SACRIFICE. progressive wickedness, and utter ruin. He was then commanded to disappear ; and retired into the profoundest solitude, except that the ravens found him out, and were made to act like ministering spirits to him. They brought him food ; his countrymen would have adminis- tered poison. How they were supplied with what they brought to him, it is in vain to con- jecture. Possibly by depredation on the stores of some wealthy idolater ; if they were sent to levy such a contribution, it would be in vain to attempt to prevent them. He must have stayed a good while in this solitary retreat, for it was "till the brook dried up." And it is evident that by the time he went to the widow of Zarephath, the land was in a calamitous condition, for she had re- signed all hope of any further means of life. (The miracle of the meal and oil, and the re- storation of the widow's son.) It would seem that he remained at Zarephath till the end of the three years and six months ; he abode " in a loft," we are told, (1 Kings xvii. 19) a most humble apartment, we may be sure. There were spacious, and sumptuous, and magnificent abodes in the land, but hither was sent to dwell the person that was to go off from the earth ELIJAH'S SACRIFICE. 295 in " a chariot of fire." And here, doubtless, he received visits which well comported with such a destiny. Our imagination can easily represent the nature of his thoughts and exercises, but cannot rise to their devotional exaltation and solemnity. The utmost efforts to find him out were made by the king of Israel. Was it in pure hatred and revenge, and in order to de- stroy him ? Much more probably it was as* believing that, in some way or other, the con- tinuance or removal of the dreadful calamity materially depended on Elijah. Ahab regarded him as having pronounced a sentence which no one else could set aside ; as a being who had absconded with the great key of the storehouse of nature. But, what should Ahab have thought of all his prophets, when they could give him no assistance towards discovering Elijah ? while neither could they bring down one shower, one drop, of rain ! The state of the land and its inhabitants was by this tune extremely dreadful. What a picture might have been exhibited, if the sacred historian, like other historians, had been dis- posed to amplify for the purpose of a striking effect ! Great numbers must have perished ; the rest were in a deplorable state. It is 296 ELIJAH'S SACRIFICE. doubtful whether much assistance could be obtained from the neighbouring regions ; for the country of Tyre and Sidon was equally afflicted, for Zarephath was there. The cattle were nearly all destroyed, as appears from Ahab's orders to Obadiah. The king himself went out, to survey a part of his desolate, miserable realm, and dying population. At every step he saw the effects of his abominable idolatries. It was, in truth, one vast sacrifice which he had made, and was making, to Moloch ; a nation of human victims offered, with all the brute tribes in addition. For, since they perished expressly on account of the false gods, they might justly and strictly be accounted as sacrifices ; and himself was the royal high-priest. But no indication appears of repentance or remorse. Obadiah would behold the scene with very different emotions. He " feared the Lord greatly ; " had rescued one hundred of the prophets (probably pupils of the prophets) from Jezebel's massacre. No doubt, it was just for the purpose of such beneficent services to the faithful, that a man like this was pre- served, by a very special providence, safe in such a station. We may be sure he was proved to be ELIJAH'S SACRIFICE. 297 of high worth and integrity in his office ; but he had what would be accounted the most odious of all qualities in that court -fidelity to God. This man was suddenly encountered by the very last person he could expect to see. Elijah had been commanded away from his obscure retreat. And he was coming again into action in a manner that was worth having remained in devout contemplation so long. Obadiah's plea to excuse himself is overruled. But, why was not the prophet's course directed to meet the king himself, in the first instance ? No doubt it was that the monarch might be compelled to go to meet him, as an homage to the prophetic character, and the divine authority. They met; knew each other well. Ahab attempted a display of spirit by beginning with a reproach- ful salutation ; but, this was not the time. Elijah's aspect and manner overbore him. The reproach was returned, not in the way of alter- cation, but of dignified authority, and with a truth that smote on conscience; followed by a command to the king, to call together his sub- jects and his prophets. It does not appear that he even explained for what purpose. He was not sent to talk to one man alone, even though a king. ELIJAHS SACRIFICE. As to the prophet's deportment in this inter- view, we may observe, that his solemn direct commission from the Almighty placed him on a ground above the minor relations of governor and subject. In ordinary circumstances, he would have been sensible of whatever respect was due to the ruler of the people, if any re- spect was due to a man who exercised that very office for the most wicked and pernicious pur- poses; who promoted, and shared, and sur- passed, the depravity and impiety of his people. But here the prophet had a high independent capacity to maintain; he was commissioned to speak and act in character of judge and dictator. And, we may believe, was far above the mean- ness of any miserable pride in doing so. That which he was invested with, in the special capacity of a prophet, was in no sense his own. It was not a talent, nor a merit. It was an official capacity, of which the dignity, or virtue, belonged most simply and entirely to him that conferred it. It was something extraneous to the man himself; might be conferred, or taken away, in a moment, and at any moment. Of all this, the prophets appear to have been kept perfectly sensible ; accordingly, it was not per- sonal arrogance, when they assumed a com- manding manner and language. ELIJAH'S SACRIFICE. 299 Ahab felt it to be something more than a mere command of Elijah that he should assem- ble the people at Mount Carmel. Therefore he instantly complied, though, doubtless, not without internal mortification and refractory feeling. "All Israel," it is said, meaning, of course, a good proportion of them, from all parts, so as to represent the whole. But lite- rally all the avowed priests of idolatry, eight hundred and fifty. Their patroness, the queen, would concur in ordering them thither. It was coming to a question whether she should main- tain her dominion, with respect to religion, in the kingdom. The whole assembling multitude (as soon as Elijah was heard of) may be sup- posed to have surmised that it was to be some grand question concerning religion. And it would be a matter of most lively interest to all, if they believed that the dreadful visita- tion of the famine was implicated with it. Could the idolatrous part of the multitude expect rain, and bread, from gods that for so long a time could not, or would not, give them any ? There is, indeed, no indication that they had at all repented of their idolatry, but this experience would surely make them less at- tached to it. The seven thousand faithful 300 ELIJAH'S SACRIFICE. would wish to hope that something would be done to shake the horrid and cruel domination of false religion. And this might be the wish, also, of numbers who had, through fear, yielded to practise its rites, with inward shame and self-reproach. But think of the eight hundred and fifty priests of idolatry, conspicuously pro- minent on the appointed ground, in the garbs, and with the ensigns, of their deities, bearing evidence of being well fed " at Jezebel's table !" Many of them might be real devotees, with heart and soul; some, mere professional offici- ators, not much thinking or caring about the religion itself. Some might be (as in the Ro- mish church) little better than atheists, con- scious deceivers of the people, but delighting in both the domination and the emolument. On the whole, there might be great confidence among them that they could not have much to apprehend from a rencounter with the single, proscribed prophet Elijah. Presumption is a characteristic attendant on false religion, and on a falsification of the true, for it inspires a high self-valuation. But these men really had a great deal to sustain their presumption. The trial, however, was now at hand. " How long halt ye between two opinions? If the ELIJAH'S SACRIFICE. 301 Lord be God, follow him ; but if Baal, follow him." " And the people answered him not a word." Was this silence right, on the part of the faithful adherents? We think not; for Elijah's address was plainly an appeal to their present convictions, antecedently to any proof which he might be about to give. (Where was Obadiah in this juncture ?) Did they think it would be an ill-timed ostentation, an irreverent disturbance of the solemnity of the scene? They would plead so afterwards, no doubt; would say, " they had been quite certain of the result of the prophet's proceedings, and there- fore it would have been but an affectation of zeal and courage to have declared themselves previously." All expressed approbation of the grand test which he proposed. The proposal was too sudden, and too immediately to be ex- ecuted, to allow those wicked men any time for artful contrivance ; else, certainly, it would have been attempted, though in that case frus- trated. It was proper that the idolaters should make the experiment first, and most ample time was given them. Some delay of their success might even have been of service to their cause. Con- template this immense legion of priests calling 302 ELIJAH'S SACRIFICE. on Baal, before the waiting, gazing multitude ! Behold a sample of that human reason which has itself been idolized, solemnly, persevering- ly, furiously, invoking a nonentity a vain creation of fancy and fashioned by that fancy in the most hateful character ! Baal, and Baalim, are very indefinite denominations, be- ing given to a great diversity of pagan deities. It is supposed that the chief Baal of Palestine was nearly the same as the Jupiter of the Greeks and Romans ; but with a confused par- ticipation of the attributes of divers divinities. In the instance before us he seems to have been worshipped without an image. This as- semblage of priests, most likely, adored a variety of gods in this one comprehensive ser- vice. The priests of " the groves" united, though named as a distinct class. " They called, from morning till noon;" but no an- swer; no sign; no flash of electric fire; no demon's invisible torch permitted ! For, though there was no Baal there, to hear the conjura- tion, we can easily imagine there were hovering there unseen, agents who would soon have lighted the flame, if not restrained by superior power. Such aid would not have been wanting as that which was permitted for a while to the ELIJAHS SACRIFICE. 303 magicians of Egypt. But this time, those agents were to look on, and forbear! The people also looked on, with intense interest! There were Israelites waiting to see who was their God! Some of those beguiled sinners would wonder at Baal's delay. Some would feel doubt coming on their minds, and some would begin to feel scorn. Elijah, too, long looked on ; he could give them time. He knew he should want little himself. Let all their gods be invoked, by all their names and titles ! Let all their incantations be expended! Let their last tribute of idolatrous zeal be fully paid ! Let the deluded, miserable populace see how tenacious their spiritual tyrants were of their enslaved souls ! It was in silence that the prophet had thus long looked on. When he did speak, what would you have him to have said? a gentle dissuasion ? that would have been no fit language to the insulters of the Almighty, and the destroyers of the people ! a loud de- nunciation of vengeance? that was to be ex- ecuted, and needed not be spoken. " It came to pass that Elijah mocked." (A word or remark on sarcasm and ridicule in the service of truth.) We are not to imagine this as said 304 ELIJAH'S SACRIFICE. in a light, bantering tone of pleasantry; as if the prophet would amuse himself with their unsuccessful impiety ; but as an austere and bitter rebuke in the form of sarcasm, and it had in it a propriety and truth, without which sarcasm and ridicule have no point. Some such thing as he, in mockery, suggests, was to be supposed by them to account for their failure. "He is a god," "as you assume, and favourable to you. There must therefore be some occasional cause of this his inattention. Is he not talking, pursuing, in a journey, or asleep?" Now this was quite pertinent, be- cause the heathens did suppose such things might happen, to prevent the gods hearing them. Le Clerc illustrates from Homer Jupiter had a bed, and sometimes went to sleep Thetis could not obtain a desired boon from Jupiter, because he was gone on a journey to Ethiopia, and was not to return for twelve days. Baal's worshippers, we may be sure, were not less gross in their notions; and there- fore such things were justly thrown in their teeth. Will any one say this was too harsh, and almost cruel, when Elijah saw the wretched men thus labouring in vain ? What ! in the land of Israel? among a people perishing ELIJAH'S SACRIFICE. 305 under the effects of the abominations which these men had promoted among them? What ! after these wicked men had doubtless abetted Jezebel in killing all the teachers of the true religion that could be found? After hours of vain invocation, they had recourse to their most wild and barbarous rites; leapt upon the altar cut themselves. Now, this was no newly invented expedient of their's, prompted by despair. These were customary rites in the worship of several heathen deities. It was like a judicial doom, that those who would worship false gods, should do it at the cost of plaguing and torturing themselves. Miserably exhausted many of these priests must have become, but the will was resolute, inflexible, and invincible; they went on till near the time of the Jewish "evening sacri- fice." Still no voice, no auspicious sign, no fire. The great assembly that witnessed this long process, had to make their reflections. The great majority had to reflect, that these were the personages to whom they had long surrendered their judgments, their consciences, and the religion of the God of Israel; that these had been their accepted intercessors with invisible power. They had to consider in what 306 ELIJAH'S SACRIFICE. degree themselves might be involved in the consequences which now would seem to impend. It was too much to hope that divine justice would entirely dissever the retribution. Elijah knew his appointed moment. Think what a mighty tide of feeling would rush to- ward him when he summoned the people to a new ground, and a different altar ! A ruined altar which he had to rebuild; it was left un- done till then, that there might be no air of previous assumption, ("I will wait to see whether an altar will be wanted;") nor of careful preparation; the stones had remained out of their place, that every one of them might be laid under the inspection of so many observers. And then the water was poured three times. See how rigorously the Governor of the world would authenticate a miraculous interposition. This "water" would be a most formidable circumstance in the view of the idolatrous priests. It was truly a strange pre- paration for a burnt sacrifice in the presence of those to whom not one spark had been afforded by heaven, or earth, or hell; when the active spirit of that element seemed as profoundly asleep as Baal himself. No sign of it no blue sulphureous element had begun to appear round ELIJAH'S SACRIFICE. 307 this new altar no meteors to hiss and glare. But there was to be a fire, under which the water, and the very stones, were in a moment to vanish ! An emblem, may we not consider it ? or rather a precursory sparkle, and beam, and specimen, of that fire to which, one day, the globe shall be a sacrifice, in contempt of all its oceans ! But that fire will leave no more controversies to be decided between God and false divinities. That will be a funeral flame, as to the dominion of the powers of evil, in this world; but it will not be lighted till all is ready for the sacrifice, as Elijah's fire was not. (And nothing is more solemn than a short delay in an awful crisis.) It did not come till he had distinctly invoked Him, to whose sole divinity it was to testify. The whole assembly were clearly to understand what Being it was on whom he called for the demonstrative sign, which had irradiated the cloud before the camp of Israel. The fire, if it came, was to second that which had flamed on Sinai, and which had descended on Sodom. It was to be a fire of intelligence, as well as power. It was to be Elijah's prayer converted and returned in flame. The prophet's prayer was, that the very TRUTH might lighten on the scene, and consume all x2 308 ELIJAH'S SACRIFICE. question, doubt, and subterfuge. The Invisible Presence was there; the thunder-bolt was ready; and as soon he had ended, "it fell." And neither sacrifice, nor altar, nor water, remained ! The whole materials of the testi- mony were consumed; as the book of divine revelation will perish in the last fire, that fulfils its predictions. The effect was irresistible on the multitude, (( When all the people saw it they fell on their faces : and they said, The Lord, he is the God ; the Lord, he is the God." As to the priests of idolatry, it was in literal obedience to the divine law, given to the Israelites, that they were all put to death. (Deuteronomy xiii. 5.) And the heap that was probably raised over their dead bodies, ought to have been to the people a monument, as conspicuous to thought as Carmel was to their view. To our thought, too, the whole transaction should be conspicuous and monumental. We think how powerful and how holy a being was manifested then. Let us not forget to consider, too, that it was the same being in whose presence we are every moment; and under whose government we shall be for ever. Let us reflect how all idolatry, that of which ELIJAH'S SACRIFICE. 309 we may be guilty, is to be dreaded in such a presence. And let us think how the adoration is to be performed, and how the mercy is to be propitiated, of a God whose justice is a " consuming fire." November 25, 1822. LECTURE XIX. THE WINTER, AND ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. PSALM Ixxiv. 17- Thou host made WINTER. IN a former instance (LECT. x.) in a much more pleasant season, we attempted to turn the season itself to some religious account, by means of a few reflections suggested by its peculiar character. It is our fault, if any very marked part of the great vicissitudes of the natural world in which we are sojourning, shall pass by us without yielding instruction, in- struction of a special kind, as well as that which we should be reaping from all our time. There is some peculiar inscription by "the finger of God" on each presented view of his works. The winter is generally felt an unpleasing THE WINTF.R, ETC. 31 1 and gloomy season of the year ; the more de- sirable is it to make it yield us some special good, by way of compensation. The practica- bility of doing this, displays the excellence of mind above matter, and the advantage of religion. The sky is gloomy ; the light brief and faint; the earth torpid, sterile, and de- prived of beauty ! the whole system of the elements ungenial, like a general refusal of nature to please us, or afford us any thing. Well, but MIND, with the aid of wisdom and religion, may not only nourish within itself, but may compel the very winter to afford assistance to its doing so. It may raise a richer produce than what the agriculturist can in spring and summer. And perhaps the truth is, that wis- dom and piety might find or make all seasons and scenes nearly equal, in point of yielding the most valuable advantage. There are grati- fying examples to this purpose. Let us consider, for a few moments, what the winter season might offer in aid of instructive reflection. And we may revert to the expres- sion of the text, "Thou hast made winter." God's work and wisdom in it are to be regarded. The Almighty Maker has fixed in the order of the world that which is the natural cause of 312 THE WINTER, the winter: a most remarkable adjustment of supreme wisdom and power, appearing at first view, something like irregularity and disorder, that is, the inclination of the earth's axis. We may note the signal benefits of this adjust- ment to the whole earth, (stated by Dr. Keill) as contrasted with what the consequences would have been of a position which would have made the seasons always the same. After this, we may observe that the winter illustrates to us the beneficent principle of distribution acted on by the Divine Providence. We must have our winter, in order that the inhabitants of another part of the world may have their summer. Not but that even we, separately considered, are the better for this order: but set that out of view, and even suppose it were not so, the people of the southern hemisphere need to have their season of light and warmth, to make their allotted ground productive, and ripen its produce. The sun and the fine season, leave us, to go to them. The winter, there- fore, seems to inculcate upon us a great lesson of equity and charity, that we should be willing to share the benefits of the system with the distant portions of our great wide-spread family, willing to part with a pleasing posses- AXD ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. 313 sion for a season, for their sakes, even if we could retain it. And the lesson might be brought down to matters within a narrower circle. Again, the winter should, by the very cir- cumstance of its unproductiveness, remind us of the care and bounty of divine providence, in that other seasons are granted us which furnish supplies for this, and for the whole year. There is to be a season producing nothing, but therefore there are seasons producing more than their share. The winter may admonish us, of these colder climates, how entirely we are at the mercy of the Sovereign Lord of nature, how wholly dependent on the order which he has established. This is less obvious in those regions where they have no winter, in our sense of the word. But here, look at the earth (speaking generally) ! look at the trees ! an obdurate negation ; an appearance of having ceased to be for us ; under a mighty interdict of heaven ! We might nearly as well go to the graves of the dead, to ask for sympathy and aid. The ground seems not willing to yield us any thing but a grave ; and that it is yielding every day to numbers to whom it would have yielded nothing else ! Striking 314 THE WINTER, consideration ! that for this service the earth is always ready. How many graves for the dying it will afford during these months, in which it will afford no sustenance to the living ! Would it not be a most solemn manifestation, if we could, in the living crowd, discern those to whom the earth (the ground) has but one thing more to supply ? Observe, again, the winter has a character of inclemency and rigour, has ideas and feel- ings associated with it of hardship, infelicity, suffering. In this, it should be adapted to excite thoughtful and compassionate sentiments respecting the distress and suffering that are in the world ; the distresses attendant in a special manner on the season itself; but, also, hard- ships, distresses, oppressive situations, considered generally. Such consideration should naturally be promoted by the grave character of the season, in which nature seems clad in mourn- ing. The fair and cheerful aspect of the world is veiled, as if, that our thoughts may take another direction. Another thing worth observing is, that whi- ter discovers, in a somewhat special manner, the dispositions of mankind thus ; men are in that season reduced more to their own re- AND ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. 315 sources, are deprived of a delightful scene of varieties, liberties, and entertaining circum- stances and occupations; are much more driven home, as it were, to themselves, and their own means; and their dispositions are shown in what they will now choose to do ; we mean in such part of their tune as is really at their disposal. How pleasing it would be, to see generally a recourse to such expedients for spending that time, as should tend to individual and social improvement. It is so we trust, in many instances. It is generally so in some countries, at least one, that is, Iceland. But look at a large portion of our community, occupied in vain and dissipating amusements. Some in revels of excessive festivity, in con- vivial assemblies for utter trifling and levity card parties theatres. Winter thus shows what persons will choose by preference, when the dreary state of the natural world throws them upon their own means. But what will the vain and thoughtless do, when the world, with all its seasons, finally excludes them ? " Say, dreamers of gay dreams ! * How will you weather an eternal night Where such expedients fail?" (NIGHT THOUGHTS, II.) " Say, triflers, say," MS. 316 THE WINTER, Yet again, as to winter, though it is the darker portion of time, it may possibly not be the darker portion of the history of mankind. Some of the most dreadful of their courses of crime have generally been considerably sus- pended during that season. We allude espe- cially to their horrid slaughters under the name of war. Though indeed the unrelenting fury of late wars has made exceptions to this. Another thing observable of winter is, how strikingly it shows the transitory quality of the beauty, variety, magnificence, and riches, which had been spread over the natural world. Recall to your imagination what you so lately beheld and admired. (Brief description of the scene as in spring and summer.) All vanished like a dream ! gone into air, into the dust, and into dead masses ! It is amazing to think what an infinity of pleasing objects have perished; so soon perished and gone ! Just as yesterday the fair profusion was here ; now it is no more to us than the earliest beauty of Eden. It is gone, and for ever gone ! never to be that beauty again, that is, identically. The change is as if some celestial countenance had for a while beamed in smiles on the earth, but were now averted to some other world; and then the AND ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. 317 earth had no power to retain the glory and beauty ; they disowned and left it ; and left us on the bare ground over which the vision of enchantment had been spread. May we not here find an instructive emblem of another order of things ? Think of the bloom and vigour, and animated action and expression of the human person, destroyed by sickness or disease! Think of delightful hopes, shedding spring and summer on the heart, suddenly ex- tinguished ! Think of a state of exuberant pros- perity changed by a rapid reverse to one of difficulty, calamity, or desolation ! (Job.) Ex- amples are occurring in all times. You have seen men displaying themselves in splendour and pomp, as if they thought themselves mir- rors to reflect the sun, putting all sorts of men, and things, and arts, in requisition assembling around them the wealthy, the gay, the fashionable, and the tribe of self-interested flatterers. They have had a brilliant and envied career for a while, but the effect of public cala- mity, or of individual disaster has suddenly come upon them, and they have passed from the glare and sunshine of a summer state to a dreary winter of condition, almost without an interval ! Or there has been a more moderate 318 THE WINTER, and modest state ; easy, plenty, and comfort, but this changed to loss, ruin, and indigence, a winter indeed ! Or there is recollected some instance of a man who has seen his family grown up, or nearly so, and entering on life under the most promising appearances. But several of them, within a short space of time, have been smitten by death, another, through ill-judged or unfortunate connexions has been plunged in misery for life; and another per- verted irreclaimably to a reprobate course. Alas ! it is gloomy and oppressive winter with him ! The sight of the graves of those who are gone, makes winter, though all the bloom and verdure of spring were smiling round; or a visit to his unfortunate child; or the very name of the depraved one ! The consideration of the transitoriness of the beauty and glory of the year, as forced upon us by the winter, easily carries our thoughts to these parallel things in the condition of human life. There is another thing which the winter may suggest to our thoughts, namely, that resem- blance to it which there may be in the state of the mind, in respect to its best interests. The dreary season and scene may thus impress a salutary admonition. Indeed the contrary sea- AND ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. 319 son might do it, though it were in the way of con- trast. But let not the admonition by resemblance be lost upon us. Is a man afraid to turn from the gloom and cold without to see what there is within ? Would he even rather contemplate and endure the greater rigours of a still more northern climate awhile, than to take a sojourn in his own soul ? Yes ; there are persons who would rather be wherever our adventurers in search of the north-west passage may probably now be, than " make diligent search " into the state of their own spirits. And truly the winter in the soul is far worse than any season and aspect of external nature. Suppose a contrary state to be fully prevalent in the soul, how small an evil, comparatively, then, would be all that is inclement and gloomy in the seasons and scenes of nature ! Suppose communion with heaven, animated affections, ardent devotion to God and our Redeemer, a strong exercise of improving faith, a dwelling with delight among the truths, promises, and anticipative visions, which God has revealed, like walking and regaling among the trees of paradise, a vigorous prosecution of holiness, and the joys of a good conscience ! Why if such a man were placed in the frozen zone (and could live 320 THE WINTER, there), he would be happy ! He would have a triumph over the rigours of nature ! There would be feeble and oblique rays of the sun, or for a while, none at all ; but direct beams from the throne of heaven ! Or place him in our region, and the light of his soul, the ever burn- ing lamp, blazing with element from the empy- real sky, would overpower the darkness of our gloomiest season ; the vernal spirit within would to him transform the desolate aspect ! But let all this be reversed, and what a desolation! With such a state within, the most delicious scene on earth would be blasted. Eden itself was so to our first parents when they had sin- ned ! Oh ! what an intense winter men may carry within their own breasts, whatever be the season in external nature ! We have spoken of resemblance, but observe one striking point of difference; namely, the natural winter will certainly and necessarily, from a regular and absolute cause, pass away, after a while ; not so, the spiritual winter. It is in the established nature of the thing, that the brighter, warmer season should return, with all its appropriate phenomena; we have only to wait and do nothing, and there is nothing we can do. It does not belong to the constitu- AND ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. 321 tion of the human nature that the spiritual warmth and animation must come, must have a season. Look at dull apprehension, cold affections, torpid conscience, unactuated will these may continue so, through the ensuing spring and summer, forward to the next winter, and may resemble that winter more completely even than they resemble this; analogous to material nature in this one point, that the longer the cold continues, the more intense it will become. It would be a melancholy kind of observation and comparison for a man to make, as the spring commences and advances, to com- pare the brightening and lengthening days with his spiritual views and intelligence; the evi- dent progress, with his fixed and obdurate sameness ; the opening blossoms with his religious emotions, desires, aspirations, resolu- tions; the prevailing warmth at length, and full character of life, with the habitual tem- per of his heart; or finally, to observe the precious and ripened produce, but the case with himself answering to those words, "the harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we / not saved ! " All this may be ; in number- less cases it will be. Shall it be so with us 9 But how else should it be, with the man that Y 322 THE WINTER, carelessly lets it all alone ? What a glorious thing on the other hand, if we should escape from our winter of the soul by an equal pro- gress with that by which external nature will certainly escape ! We might follow out the analogy to a wider extent, applying it to a state of a religious society ; of the great community of a nation, of the general human race. It is enough just to suggest these applications. How glorious, when the probable import of that prophecy shall be realized, " the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose!" We will note but one more point of analogy which has already occurred to every one's thoughts, namely, the resemblance of winter to old age. The direct resemblances are too ob- vious to need illustration. We shall just only name one or two. Those in the earlier seasons of life are sensible that they look on the aged as in life's winter. But whether they are disposed to entertain a wicked contempt, or a benevolent respect, let them never forget that they too are to come to that winter, unless prematurely cut off. Those who are now aged were so ad- monished in their earlier seasons. The old age of the wise and good resembles the winter in AND ITS MORAL ANALOGIES. 323 one of its most favourable circumstances, that the former seasons improved have laid in a valuable store ; and they have to bless God that disposed and enabled them to do so. But the most striking point in the comparison, after all, is one of unlikeness. Then 1 winter has no spring to follow it in this world. It is to close, not by an insensible progression into another season, but by a termination, absolute, abrupt, and final ; a consideration which should shake and rouse the most inveterate insensi- bility of thoughtless old age. But the servants of God say, That is well ! " They would not make such a gradation into a spring of mortal existence, if it could be put in their choice. Their winter, they say, is quite the right tune for a great transition. It was in nature's winter, (or towards that season) that their Lord came to the earth ; it was in the winter that he died for their redemption; and the winter of their life is the right tune for them to die that the redemption may be finished. And there is eternal spring before them ! What will they not be contemplating of beauty and glory while those who have yet many years on earth are seeing returning springs and summers ! This may suggest a last observation that the 324 THE WINTER, ETC. gloomy circumstance of winter on our globe, points to the desirableness of an abode where there shall be nothing like winter; or of a mode of existence quite superior to all ele- mental evils. The theory of such a condition of existence we cannot distinctly form in our minds ; but so much the better ; for that would imply such a resemblance to the present eco- nomy, as one should be reluctant to admit. So much the better that " eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart been able to conceive the things that God hath prepared." December 19, 1822. LECTURE XX. THE END OF THE YEAR. PSALM xc. 9. We spend our years as a tale that is told. THIS psalm being ascribed to Moses, its pensive strain may be deemed to have a par- ticular reference to the condition of the Israel- ites in the sojourn in the wilderness, under the doom of consuming away their lives there. Nevertheless, this pensive strain has been felt in harmony with the sentiments of the most thoughtful persons ever since. No part of the ancient scriptures is less obsolete than this. It is a picture still true to nature. Human life, viewed generally, has not since brightened up into a scene of joy and triumph. The brief description of the state in paradise, is felt to belong to a departed and remote economy ; that given in this psalm is instantly felt to be appro- priate to the present condition of man. This 326 THE END OF THE YEAR. representation applies itself and fastens close upon the real subject. The beautiful and splendid images brought from the beginning of our history, or shaped since by fine imagi- nation, stand off into the air, from the reality ; a fair vision, but no more attached to the actual substance than the beautiful clouds or the rain- bow, will descend or permanently rest on the surface of the ground. One circumstance of the description is, "We spend our years as a tale that is told." This seems to express both a necessary fact, and a censure. The rapid consumption of our years, their speedy passing away, is inevitable. But they may be spent also in a trifling man- ner, to little valuable purpose, which would complete the disconsolate reflection on them, by the addition of guilt and censure. WE have been consuming our years; we have very nearly expended another; think how nearly it is gone from us ! Yonder, as it were, behind, is the long lapse of it. As if we stood by a stream bearing various things upon it away. We can look back to its successive times and incidents, as what we were present to. But Omnipotence cannot take us back to meet again its commencement, or any portion or cir- THE EXD OF THE YEAR. 327 cumstance of it. We are present, now, to one of its latest diminutive portions, which Omni- potence cannot withhold from following the departed. We are occupying it, breathing in it, thinking in it, for nearly the last time ; little more of it is remaining than time enough for bid- ding it a solemn and reflective farewell! A few hours more, and the year can never be of the smallest further use to us, except in the way of reflection. And it is a serious thing to say that of any valuable thing included in our portion on earth; a thing that antecedently was of great direct value, value for actual use, now of none but for thought. For there is a great difference between the possible good from a valuable thing in possession, or that is to be in possession, and the good that afterwards might be gained by merely thinking of it when it is gone. Suppose the case of a considerable amount of property that was possessed, or in a man's power, but is so no longer, spent, perhaps wasted or lost. Now, a man who can think wisely, may derive some good from it, even after it is gone. But, how different his situation from that of having it in his power, and with wisdom to use it well. So in the case of having lost by death, a highly valuable and 328 THE END OP THE YEAR. useful friend. Apply this to our case with respect to the departed year. But let us first stop to observe, that in having had this whole year, we have had more of valuable time, than we had any right, at the beginning of it, to assure ourselves of. All that we could say at the beginning was " Such and such things may be effected, for ourselves for others, for God, IF our lives are pro- longed." But we did not know that we should have so much riches of time to spend. The event has proved that we were to have the whole year, with all those possibilities of good. Now, to return to what we were observing. We may yet gain some good from the past year, by wise reflection. But there is a vast difference between the measure of any good that can now so be gained, and the measure of that good which was possible to be gained during the possessions and expenditure of the year. Place yourselves in thought, back at the beginning of it, and remember that there you actually did stand, that it was no imaginary point of history. Then you might say, " What is possible to me in the whole length of this commencing year, if the Divirie Will shall pro- THE END OF THE YEAR. 329 long my life throughout it, in moderate health ? what is possible in a space of nearly four hundred days ? My ordinary worldly business and cares absolutely must fill a main share of the time. But even in this (by aid from above,) there may be, perhaps, a purer conscience main- tained, and a more habitual sense of the divine presence. There may be, in almost four hun- dred days, a vast number of most serious thoughts pointed reflections of self-examina- tion, and self -judgment, distinct references to God and eternity, earnest desires after an as- sured and unquestionable interest in Jesus Christ, petitions deliberately conceived and addressed to the Almighty, efforts at a clearer apprehension of divine truth, efforts to recall and reapply, important admonitions, efforts for practical self-correction, efforts to make something that we think, or that we can do, useful to fellow-mortals." Compute now the sum of all these individual things, if effected, what a happy enrichment of our spirits and our life ! What a value at the time, and forward through life, and into eternity ! Now when the year began, all this was possible. The coming year contained all these possibilities; like a mine in which it is certain there is a mass of 330 THE END OF THE YEAR. precious treasure, which may be dug for, and will be found, if the labour is applied; like a field of great and certain fertility. The cir- cumstance that we were not sure of the whole year, made only this difference, that the duty was still the more urgent to improve it, part by part, as it might be given to us. And why should not all this that was possible, have been realized? Reflections on the then past year enforced an earnest endeavour, regret, and per- haps remorse came in to reinforce it. Time was evidently acquiring an aggravated value and importance in our hands by diminution. We had, perhaps, known of unhappy instances of that being the last year to persons who had failed of making the wisest use of their former ones. There were, perhaps, brought to our view, the most grave and forcible considera- tions applicable to the case, and corresponding resolutions were most deliberately formed. Then, IF we have failed greatly, WHY have we failed ? It were desirable the cause should be well understood. And here it may be observed, that one of the points, if there was a neglect of that, may ac- count for a failure in all the rest; namely, constant earnest petitioning for divine influence THE END OF THE YEAR. 331 and assistance. For the instruction supplied by all our years has been to little purpose, if we are not become fully aware of one plain fact, that which was expressed in our Lord's sen- tence " Without ME ye can do nothing." In other words, that it is only through the medium of God that we can effectually attempt any of the most important things, because we have a nature that is unadapted to them, repugnant to them, revolts from them. Recollect such things as we were naming as what might have been in the past year. Could the impulse of these intentions, these aims, these attempts, be effective by the mere force of the soul itself? Xo, no ; the case would be like that of the man who stretched out his hand to a sacred object, " and behold it was withered ! " Or, as if some implement requiring to be kept in a high tempe- rature for some critical operation, were held forth to be applied, but became frozen hi this winter atmosphere. But it is from the heart that the frost proceeds ! Oh ! that fatal source and cause of disability and failure ! It is therefore only through an agency, and, shall we say, an ele- ment of divinity, pervading and surrounding us, that we can reach forth with an effectual effort. Therefore, again, if during the past year, we 332 THE END OP THE YEAR. failed in the essential point of imploring that Divine Spirit to animate us, well might Ave fail in the rest ! But we will not assume so gloomy a fact as that the case has been wholly thus. It is the concern of each one's conscience; but we will hope that in more than a few instances, some good measure has been effected of what was the grand purpose for which the departed year was given. And whoever be the persons of whom this is true in the greatest degree, they are the happiest that the year has left alive, extremely happy in this, that they do not need the year that is coming on. How happy ! as compared with what the thoughtless or the worldly may envy the most. There are men who have within the past year come into possession of great wealth. They will want another year ! Ask them whether it be so or not ? There are men who have brought a great worldly scheme to a point of signal success ; who have come back in safety and triumph from a long and hazardous adventure. There are men who have reached the arduous summit of intellectual attainment and honour. But show us the man for whom, as a Christian, the past year has done the most ! and then, if he might take all these fine things THE END OP THE YEAR. 333 instead, let a sober voice, let any voice say, whether he should ! if he could and did, what should he do with them, if within a few months hence he were summoned to die ? and then what should he do without the things he would have surrendered in exchange ? But however the case has really been with us, we return to the observation, that the year has now gone (all but one day) beyond our making any advantage of it, except in the way of reflection. It is like a seed-tune gone, and the tract of ground sunk under the sea. It is as a treasure-house burnt ; but of which, never- theless, we may find some little of the gold melted into a different form in the ashes. Let us then, in parting with the year, try to gain from it the last and only thing it can give us, some profit by means of our thoughts reaching back to what is gone. Each serious mind will have its own kind of reflections. There are just a few of a very general nature which we will close by briefly suggesting. Sentiments of a grateful kind should be among the first to arise in every one's medita- tion on the past year. It should be so if the fact be, that in the whole year there has not been an hour a moment, in which we did not 334 THE END OP THE YEAR. owe gratitude. What then must be the sum? There has been an exercise in the most perfect sense, incessant, of a beneficent Providence, maintained, while an infinity of things have been in operation, and among them a legion of evils. Think a moment what might have been. A tremendous vision of possible evils arises at the thought! Think too, what can we say that we could claim, by desert, from the righteous Governor of the world ! Then think where we are left, in point of obligation, at the close of the year ! And whether we are fit to enter on another year without gratitude ! If we have no right estimate and feeling for the past mercies of God, how are we to receive pre- sent and future ones with a right feeling ? For future duty we shall want to have motives; think, if all the force that should be motive could be drawn in the form of gratitude, from one year's mercies of God, and as it were con- verged to a point, what a potent motive that would be ! We have to look back over the year to collect this force. And not to do so, is to forego one of the benefits which might be derived from it even after it is gone. Another consideration is, that our last year has been added to an irrevocable account. It THE END OF THE YEAR. 335 has passed into the record of heaven, into the memory of God ! The seal of eternity has been put upon it; so that it stands irreversible for ever; stands an unalterable portion of our everlasting existence. The awful force of this consideration comes peculiarly upon the mo- ments and feelings when we could wish some parts of it altered. And think with what force it would come if it were under a mere economy of divine justice. But then, what a glorious appointment of the divine mercy is that which can reverse the effect the actual consequence, of the guilty portion of the past year ; reverse it as to the appropriate and deserved retribu- tion. But this doctrine of mercy must not be abused, and therefore, another thing in our review of the past year should be to observe what there has been in it which ought not to be in another. Let a careful and even severe account be taken of those things ; and then say, whether it be not enough that the past year bears on its character such things for ever. Let them be strongly marked as what ought not to pass the dividing line between this year and the next ; and let them be earnestly opposed when they shall come to do so. Would that an angel, as with a flaming sword, might stand on the 336 THE END OF THE YEAR. border to repel them ! The Almighty Spirit can do this for us. Here may arise a further reflection in the form of a question ; what would have been our situation, if the whole of the year had not been given to us ? Would less have sufficed as to the supreme purpose of life ? Can we go back in thought, to points and periods of it and say, there, in its earlier months, or there, at the middle, our time might have closed, and all would have been well ? or, if near the end, or yesterday, or to-day, our time had closed, all had been well ? But if there be not ground for a humble confidence that all would have been well, the year closes ill. And can there be a mightier admonition for the commencement of another year ? One more consideration may be, that our year has been parallel, (shall we say ?) to that of those persons who have made the noblest use of it. We can represent to ourselves the course of the most devoted servants of God through this past year, in various states, and modes of employment. Now we had just the same hours, days, and months, as they. Let the comparison be made. Why was the day, the week, the month, of less value in our hands THE END OF TIIE YEAR. 337 than in their's? And do we stand for ever dissociated from them upon this year? How desirable that we may be associated with them during the next, if God prolong our life ! Another reflection may be, on our further experience of mortal life, and the world. We have seen it, tried it, judged it, thus much longer. Has the estimate brightened upon us by experience? Have we obtained a practical refutation of the sacred oracles that have pro- nounced " Vanity" upon it? Now the results of experience should really stand for something in our views of this mortal state, and in the degree of our attachment to it. And besides, what should be the effect of this further know- ledge of the nature and quality of this mortal state? There should be some effect from the mere circumstance of one year's diminution of our occupancy of this state. Our interest upon it is contracted to so much narrower a breadth. At first we may be said to have had vital ties to the whole extent of this mortal life ; an in- terest in each portion of it as it was coming to be our's. We held to life by each year of the whole allotment. But each year withdrawn cut that tie, like the cutting in succession of each of the spreading roots of a tree. The consumption z 338 THE END OF THE YEAR. of this last year has cut away another of these holds on life, these ties of connexion and in- terest. Now there should in spirit and feeling be a degree of detachment in proportion. In whatever way we consider the subtraction of one year from our whole allotment, it is an important circumstance. It reduces to a nar- rower space the uncertainty of life's continu- ance. At the beginning we might, for any thing that could be known, live but one or a few years; yet we might live fifty, sixty, or seventy years. But now, as to many of us, there is no such wide range of life. It brings us nearer to see what we are likely to be at the end, and after the end! It has increased the religious danger, if there be danger. It tells us of too much that now can never be done. It has added very greatly to the weight of every consideration that ought to impel us to make the utmost of what may remain. As the last reflection we may suggest, that the year departed may admonish us of the strange deceptiveness, the stealthiness of the flight of time. There have been a prodigious number of minutes and hours to look forward to, and each hour, at the time, did not seem to go so^ wonderfully fast ; and yet how short a THE END OP THE YEAR. 339 while they now seem to have been, in all vanishing away! It will be so in what is to come. Each day will beguile us with this de- ception, if we are not vigilant ; and will leave us, still to be done, that which it should have done. Therefore every period and portion of it, the ensuing year, and each part of it, should be entered on with emphatically im- ploring our God to save us from spending it in vain. December 30th, 1822. z2 LECTUEE XXI. ON NEGRO SLAVERY. LAMENTATIONS iii. 5. To turn aside the right of a man before the face of the Most High, the Lord approveth not. BY the request of several highly respected persons in this assembly, we have been induced to take negro slavery as the topic for consider- ation this evening. We are quite sensible, that no juster nor stronger representation of the subject can be made than what is already become familiar to many of those now present. The only service we can have any thought of rendering is, to contribute a little to prolong the attention to it. When a very great evil is brought in view (especially when it is one that has been long known in a slight, general way, and therefore does not strike with the force of surprise), it ON NEGRO SLAVERY. 341 requires many repetitions to impress it deeply enough into the mind. From its being pre- sented a few times, however vividly and power- fully (when it is a thing only described and not seen), it does not take an effective possession of our faculties. We do not adequately realize it. It is apt to pass before us like the scenes of a tragedy, or the images of a gloomy and fright- ful dream. Iteration may tend to give it a fixed form of reality in our apprehension. And this is quite necessary when the purpose of the representation is, to excite that interest which shall impel men to any effort and perseverance of effort. And think, what a reality, what a fact it is, that is exposed to our contemplation ! Eight hundred thousand human beings placed in a situation against which every one of them has a right to remonstrate as a flagrant iniquity: a right to say " I appeal to the God of justice and vengeance against my detention in this thraldom!" in a situation from which the poorest and most forlorn of our people would revolt with abhorrence : a situation of which the abjectness and the ignominy involve a ne- cessity of continuance ; that is, perpetuate themselves; a condition, in short, which goes 342 ON NEGRO SLAVERY. as near as possible to make it of no value, no privilege, to be MAN ! Now think of this as an actual reality of this hour ! What signifies it that a wide ocean stretches between ? Are we such mere outsides of men that we have no internal power of realizing ? This mighty multitude are actually in this condition, breath- ing, living at this hour ! This day there have been thousands of circumstances and exhibi- tions of the degradation and misery! If we had witnessed them, or but a few of them ! But, what, though we have not ? This day a considerable number of them have ceased to breathe, and labour, and suffer; and have been congratulated upon that, by many of the sur- vivors ! In the estimate of their proprietors, their mortal remains are the same as the frag- ments of some useful utensil, or tool, or ma- chine, broken by accident or worn out by decay. And, as to their souls, in the same estimate, they are no more than the air from a bubble bursting ! And who, or what is to be accounted the cause of such a state of things? When it is endeavoured to move the public mind against it, is it preaching a crusade against some foreign, barbarous state or tyrant (Saracen or ON NEGRO SLAVERY. 343 Pagan) that exercises this iniquitous oppres- sion ? So that it should be an allowable reply to the appeal to say " Yes, it is a flagrant evil; but so there are very many other cruel denominations in remote regions; and it is too much to be calling on us, in every such in- stance, for restless sympathy and active zeal." Is this the reply to be made in this instance, when our nation itself is the cause, the per- petrator, and has been so for centuries ? When it is wholly for our convenience and luxury, that the iniquity is committed and maintained ? When the iniquity is thus charged home, shall the nation excuse it, look at it indulgently, and comprehend it in the ample embrace of self-love ? Or are we so rich in golden virtues that we can afford to have a crime, a mass of crimes, like this, and still stand high in merit and honour? One would think that the view of such a tiling might quench that patriotic rant, that pomp of self-adulation, so common among us! In surveying and judging upon this system of holding men in slavery, we are to remember that we stand on the Christian ground. The beneficent spirit of Christianity is to predom- inate in all our opinions and estimates. We 344 ON NEGRO SLAVERY. have nothing to do with the practices sanction- ed among ancient nations, even the most re- fined and illustrious. We have nothing to do with anything of a partially similar kind tolerated in the ancient Jewish institutions. We are to acknowledge no authority, neither, in any theories of philosophy, or legislation, or political economy, which may assume an inde- pendence of Christianity, or a paramount validity. It is plainly an affair of morality, under the jurisdiction of a religion of charity and mercy. So regarding it, we need not hesitate to assert unconditionally, THAT IT is WRONG, ESSENTIALLY SO, FOR MEN TO ARRO- GATE A PROPERTY IN FELLOW-MEN: THAT THERE CAN BE NO SUCH PROPERTY. For consider ! Such an assumption is in defiance and abrogation of the distinction be- tween man, and brute animals, and inanimate substances. Everything in reason and revela- tion asserts the difference to be immense and essential. Man is made in the " image " of his Creator, with faculties rational, endlessly im- proveable, and immortal; and is the object of a grand plan of redemption by the Son of God. Think of this; and then look into a planter's inventory of property, in the strictest sense, ON NEGRO SLAVERY. 345 "goods and chattels;" house and furniture; barns, mills, stores, wagons, tools ; dogs, horses, cows, hogs ; men, women, and children ! And this last class of his goods is as much at his arbitrary disposal as the others. He can order them to use where and how he pleases can sell them punish them : and if he kill one of them, perhaps pays some dollars of fine to the state. Now, a pretended right, which puts these things so much on a level, both in esteem and practice, is a flagrant outrage against truth, and justice, and God. It is forcing a part of God's creation down out of the place and rank in which he had stationed it. When we talk of the acquisition of a pro- perty, we have commonly the idea of some equivalent in the case; some adequate con- sideration rendered somewhere, in virtue of which the thing becomes a man's property. Now, what and where is the equivalent here, when human beings body, life, and soul become absolute property to a man, the same as his cattle and machines ? The slave himself receives it not, by the nature of the case. The forty or fifty pounds paid to a former proprietor, is that the equivalent ? " A goodly price ! " But he had himself no moral, rightful property in 346 ON NEGRO SLAVERY. the subject to transfer. Such a right of pro- perty (if it were a possible one) could be re- ceived only from the Almighty, to him the equivalent must be given. And to him this equivalent is rendered, namely, to insult him by despising, degrading, depraving, and tramp- ling on, a portion of his noblest work on earth ! Again, it hardly needs be said, that this assumed property is in total violation of the natural equality of mankind. Very few, ex- cept the express abettors of slavery, will deny, in theory, such an equality ; that is to say, that men are not essentially of different natures or orders of being (like the Brahmins and their inferiors) : - that every individual has a primary right in his own existence ; that is, relatively to fellow-mortals, God's right being the supreme ; that all come into the world with an equal right to seek their own good; to have an ex- ercise of their own thoughts, and will, and choice, in the pursuit of it; to have a little sphere truly their own; with an equal claim that they should not incur injury unless they do it; and therefore with an equal right to be protected by the institutions of the world. This is, surely, a very moderate explanation of the terms "natural equality." But, how evident ON NEGRO SLAVERY. 347 that all this is utterly set at nought and ex- ploded by this pretended absolute property of men in men ! when one set of men seize upon another, by mere bare power, and hold them as existing solely for their use ! Connected with this is the consideration that the condition of mankind one with another should be such, that there can be something reciprocally willing in what they do for one another; that on neither side, it should be a matter of mere, harsh, unconditional necessity and compulsion, except in the coercion of criminals, but allowing some room and ex- ercise of choice and complacency; that there may be on both sides, a degree of merit and good-will ; a sense reciprocally of dependence, service, and obligation ; of course some scope for will and preference, whether to do or not to do, in what measure, how long, under what circumstances and conditions. Therefore, that which destroys the very possibility of this, is essentially contrary to the right condition of man. Now, there is nothing of all this between the absolute proprietor, and the slave, his pro- perty. He (the slave) is a mere living machine, impelled by force exactly to the owner's pur- pose ; his whole living faculty is of no use, but 348 ON NEGRO SLAVERY. for that force to operate on, to be duly moved, or to receive infliction if restive. He can make no merit of any thing, and receives no thanks. His owner's initials, branded on his body, with a hot iron, settle the whole question of claim and equitable return ! It is to be added to all this, that such an absolute property assumed in human beings, has the effect of interposing another authority between them and the Supreme authority, to an impious and pernicious extent. Who, what authority, will naturally stand foremost in the consideration of such absolute slaves? Espe- cially in that rude state of the moral faculty in which they will infallibly be kept. They are to see the whole law, right, will, and power, residing in their owner alone, or in his deputy. Whatever conscience they can have, has respect chiefly or solely to him. Even he cannot have the effrontery to refer them to a higher au- thority. Their sense of responsibility to a divine authority is thus systematically abro- gated. The sentiment that should be religion is transferred upon a being in their own shape ; and, so directed, it is the sentiment with which some pagans are said to have expressly wor- shipped the devil. If, nevertheless, any of them ON NEGRO SLAVERY. 349 should, by any means, have become clearly and reverently aware of a divine and supreme au- thority, it is very much at the discretion of their owner (and his representatives) in what way and degree they shall practically acknow- ledge that Supreme Governor. What they might think a proper and due worship, he may forbid. His arrangements may totally deprive them of any sabbath. If they assemble to pray, he may order them to be scourged with the lash from the throne of grace. He may order them to do numberless things which their con- sciences testify are wrong ; and may punish them even ultimately, to death, for refusing to do. Observe here, what an odious system that must be, in any case, which renders religion, whether in practice or in sentiment, a thing of aggravated difficulty ; in sentiment, I would say, especially. Think of such a slave, in the ex- ercise of devotional feeling. He is to adore the Almighty as a good, a gracious, a merciful Being, exercising a wise and beneficent pro- vidence the Patron of equity, justice, charity in the earth. But then the worshipping slave thinks of his own situation. Now think what unspeakable difficulty for him to maintain the 350 ON NEGRO SLAVERY. pious sentiment ! to believe and rejoice in the divine goodness and equity; to be resigned, grateful, and happy ! What a mighty struggle with opposite thoughts and emotions ! Now it is a hateful and accursed system which formally, arbitrarily, institutionally, necessarily, creates this most grievous and dangerous aggravation of difficulty. It will hardly be replied here ; "But such a difficulty through temptation to impious murmuring was in the lot of the first Christians persecuted by pagan tyranny and cruelty." The cases are quite different. They murmured not, because they were enduring the inflicted plagues that their divine cause might triumph ; they sustained the oppressions of idolators, that idolatry might cease. But the Christian slaves are enduring the oppressions of a professed Christian and protestant state ; and they are enduring them, that Europe may have luxuries, and that their owners may grow rich! But in truth their owners do not want to cause them any such difficulty of religious feeling, do not want them to be religious at all. Recently, indeed, there is said to have been some alteration of feeling on this point, from perceiving that religion can make even slaves more regular and trust- worthy. But on ON NEGRO SLAVERY. 351 the whole and in general, religion, negro con- version and Christianity, are looked upon with no favour. No material encouragement and facilities are afforded. Xo disposition is shown to promote or admit elementary knowledge or education among them. The less they think about any thing but their tasks, the better. We have dwelt too long on these somewhat theoretical notices of the subject. The more striking and practical views of it, however, are becoming, we presume, familiar to your minds. The grand manifestation of the quality of the negro slavery is in the enormous practical evils which it involves and produces. You will have read and heard the most revolting descriptions of the degraded condition and degrading treat- ment of the negroes. In what manner they are "worked" in the business of the plantation; " worked" that is the expression, unintentionally distinguishing them from rational and voluntary agents driven throughout their fixed labours with the cart-whip, and no wages for these labours ! subjected to the application of this instrument, and in the most degrading and offensive mode, for every petty transgression and negligence; and it is not only pain, but laceration, a wound. The large discretion pos- 352 ON NEGRO SLAVERY. sessed by the immediate managers in the inflic- tion of punishment, inuring them to cruelty, and giving ample license to temper and caprice in the exercise of it. The hopelessness of re- dress for injuries sustained. The testimony of slaves against a white man is not admitted. The white man therefore has only to take care that there be no other witnesses of his injustice. But indeed he hardly needs to mind this pre- caution. They may be sold, just as any cask of their own labours, any of them to any one the owner pleases; and so as to cut asunder for ever any ties of relationship or attachment between them. Any sorrow they might betray would be regarded with indifference. They may be seized and sold for payment of the proprietor's debts. Now think how soon all this is said and gone in recital! These general statements appear but like single facts. The mind forms no com- petent idea of the immense number of instances in which they are taking place among so many hundred thousands of the subjects of slavery ; no due idea of their continuance and endless repetition, day after day, and year after year; nay, century after century ! no idea of the in- finite diversity of shapes, circumstances, and ON NEGRO SLAVERY. 353 aggravations. And therefore the evil, in fact, is infinitely greater than it is in our apprehen- sion and imagination. But again, all these melancholy and odious facts are but a part of the system of iniquity. There is the dreadful account of moral debase- ment and misery. And it is the inevitable effect of their situation. For, if a race can by absolute force be reduced to, and long hope- lessly kept in, a condition in which they are esteemed and treated as having no souls, ex- cepting just enough for actuating their bodies as machines for the service of their masters, their whole moral being will subside to that level ; they will sink to their due debasement beneath their earthly gods. Every thing re- fined, dignified, aspiring, and moral, will evapo- rate and depart from the degraded mass. And such is very much the fact. It is a prevailing character of the enslaved race that their per- ceptions are blunted, self-respect is unknown, their thoughts are grovelling, their spirits servile, their passions gross, and habits cor- responding. In the intermissions of their hard service, when not too jaded, their resource is childish revelry, and coarse licentiousness. Their domestic relations are devoid of sanction A A 354 ON NEGRO SLAVERY. and dignity, and cannot have the due share of the permanent charities of life. As to their licentiousness, their enslaved state, their being property, peculiarly subjects them to aggrava- tion from one special cause, a cause which could not equally operate if they were raised to more respectability of condition, that cause is, that the corruption is promoted, by being largely shared by their white superiors. This is the unanimous testimony. But to think, that these superiors should be looking down with sovereign contempt on them as vile and de- based, and yet join them on the level of that debasement, and think never the more meanly of themselves ! It is as if by a judicial retribu- tion, men could not inflict degradation without incurring it, and, at the same time, a depraved insensibility of it in themselves ! We are representing that the state of utter slavery necessarily causes a wretched moral de- gradation. It would do so by the simple prin- ciple and fact of slavery distinctly considered. But how dreadfully its pernicious operation is augmented by the necessary part or adjunct of slavery that its subjects must be kept in deep ignorance destitute of efficient moral instruc- tion, and of religious truth ; in a state substan- ON NEGRO SLAVERY. 355 tially of gross heathenism, in which the master's menace's and lash hold the places of the deca- logue and the gospel ! We said, " a necessary part or adjunct ;" and this consideration crowns the whole estimate of the matter this neces- sity inseparable from slavery the case being plainly thus, that slavery and a moderate de- gree of moral and religious knowledge abso- lutely cannot co-exist. The party interested to oppose, are not mistaken when they apprehend that such improvement would blow their whole system up. But then, whatever might be the dictate of commercial policy, is it to be seriously made a question in England, whether a branch of trade should be hazarded, or the temporal, moral, and religious welfare of a vast population sacrificed ? Now it is against the continuance of such a system of iniquity that we and our fellow- countrymen are called upon to raise a protest- ing voice. In order, both that each may acquit himself of any guilt of acquiescence in it, and that the united force of the general voice may accomplish its abolition. Not its abrupt unpre- pared-for abolition, (we need not say,) but an effectual process to that end, to be adopted really, honestly, and in earnest. To obtain the A A 2 356 ON NEGRO SLAVERY. abolition of the slave trade, cost an exertion of the public mind, and an almost preternatural one of many excellent individuals, for almost twenty years; during which, reflect what legions of the victims were suffering and pe- rishing ! Reflect too, what portion of the divine judgments the while, on our nation, might be owing to this very cause. We will hope that far less time will suffice for this latter and con- cluding stage of the great work. Very naturally and inevitably, some thoughts and questions, partaking of wonder and indig- nation will arise. Why is all this protracted exertion of the popular mind necessary such associations and meetings such discussions, re- presentations, remonstrances, petitions, one year after another, against a palpable and horrid ini- quity ? Why not a speedy and decisive decree, and exertion of power, in the quarter where the presiding wisdom and authority are placed? Whatever may be the answer to such ques- tions, the answer to one more will be thought obvious enough, that is, Will this great work ever be effected unless there be a strong and zealous movement and manifestation of the general mind? The answer is made evident enough by the fact, that nothing to purpose has ON NEGRO SLAVERY. 357 been done during nearly another twenty years, since the abolition of the trade. The only con- solation for this opprobrious slowness of success in a great moral and Christian exertion is, that it causes a prolonged exercise and cultivation of the reason and the right principles of the com- munity. But this is no consolation to the vic- tims of injustice who are continuing to suffer, passing through their wretched mortal exist- ence, and ending it, and no amendment ! As in the former period, so again the exer- tion for humanity and justice will be encoun- tered and impeded by an old, partial, selfish policy. But we hope that the more liberal notions of commercial policy, which are begin- ning to prevail, will co-operate with justice and Christian principle to bear down the opposition. But there are other points affecting the policy. Can one million of the black race be long kept in absolute subjection, while in their neighbour- hood there are many millions of them who have asserted or obtained liberty, in St. Domingo and the South American republics ? And if in their ignorant, barbarous, demoralized state, this great mass should be moved and aided to gene- ral revolt, what will then be the fate of their masters and oppressors ? Of what kind will be 358 ON NEGRO SLAVERY. the reaction of uncultivated beings bearing on their bodies, indelibly marked and ploughed, the mementos of their oppressions ? And as 'a consideration for humanity, what would be the consequences to themselves, of such a revolution ? Add to all this, in the last place, the present crisis of the world. A monstrous " league and covenant" has been formed to overwhelm the liberties of all mankind. Our country professes to abhor and protest against this hideous enor- mity. But what is it that our country mean- while is doing, but acting on the same princi- ples, with respect to the African race, in the West Indies ? Is it that we think the colour of the skin the grand point of distinction between rights and no rights ? Suppose the African race to adopt the same rule (they have the same right) with respect to any colonies of white men in their neighbourhood whom they could master ? Or do we think we purchase the right to act on an atrocious principle of tyranny at the cheap price of theoretically protesting against it? In this great crisis of the times, and of liberty, and justice, what a worthy thing it would be for England to give a noble practical demonstration, that here at least is one state ON NEGRO SLAVERY. 359 which has not only a theory, but a conscience one, at all events, that is a friend and vindicator of justice and human happiness that from the most prevailing profession of Christianity, the greatest actual righteousness is inseparable. And if there be a righteous Governor in the world, a presiding and retributive Providence, what consequences may be expected, to the one course of national conduct or to the other ? May 7tk, 1823. LECTURE XXII. THE COMPREHENSIVENESS OF THE DIVINE LAW. PSALM cxix. 96. Thy commandment is exceeding broad. THE first view of the relation between God and all other beings, is, that of his being their Creator. The next view of the relation is that which manifests him as a Lawgiver. By the very nature of the case this must be an essential part of the relation. No right so absolute, to give laws, can be conceived, as that of the Creator. For, he is, necessarily, the Supreme Being. He has a perfect and exclusive property in what he has created. All created being is entirely dependent on him, for being and well- being. He alone can have a perfect under- standing of what is the right state, and the right procedure, of created beings; (they can- THE DIVINE LAW. 361 not understand themselves, and therefore could not, if they would, devise competent laws.) He alone has the power to enforce a system of laws over the whole creation. The mention of the "whole creation" may suggest one application of the terms of our text, (though a meaning not there intended) the amazing extent of the scene of his legislation ! In all probability there are worlds, with intelligent inhabitants, extending inhabitants, extending beyond all conceivable number, and dimension of space, and One Dictator of laws, of commands, to them all ! But, think of one world, only, our own, in this sense of " exceeding broad." But doubtless our text means, not the wide compass of the scene and subjects, but the quality of the law, as imperative on man ; its authority and requirement applied to so many points; the comprehensiveness, the universality, of its jurisdiction. It reaches and comprehends the whole extent of all things, in which there is the distinction of right and wrong good and evil. Now then, think, for an instant, of the almost infinite multiplicity of things in which this distinction has a place ; the grand total of what is passing, in men's minds, converse, and action is passing at this hour has been in the course of the day during the whole course 362 THE COMPREHENSIVENESS OF of life of each and all. Think how much how little of all this can justly be considered as withdrawn from the jurisdiction of the divine authority and law. A wide rain, or the beams of the sun, hardly fall on a greater multitude and diversity of things. Now, an intelligent creature in a right state, that is, a holy state, in harmony with God, would be pleased, deeply pleased, that all things should be thus marked with a signification of his will. And with good reason ; for, how happy to be in all things at the direction of the Su- preme Wisdom! in all things made clearly aware what is conformity to the Divine Excel- lence ; insomuch that, if the case could be supposed, of any thing, of material interest, being left without this mark of the divine will, under an eclipse of the light from God, that would, to such a spirit, appear as something distressing, and fearful, and portentous, would be felt as threatening some indefinable hazard. To a being possessed and filled with the re- verential love of God, it would be a most acceptable and welcome thing that thus it should be made manifest in all things what is his pleasure; that the whole field of ex- istence and action should bear, all over it, the decided and precise delineations (as on a map) THE DIVINE LAW. 363 of the ways which his creatures are to take. Should it not be so ? Must it not be so to an uncorrupted and holy creature of God ? But is it so, to the general spirit of mankind ? is it so, naturally, to any of them ? No, it is not a welcome thing that the "commandment," the law, of God is so " exceeding broad." And accordingly, its breadth is, in every imaginable way, endeavoured to be narrowed. It is true, that even the very apprehension of it is very limited and faint. If the dulness and con- tractedness of apprehension could be set aside for an interval, and a palpable, luminous mani- festation made of the vast compass, and the whole order of distinctions of this divine law, it would strike as ten times, a hundred times, beyond all that had been suspected. Yet still, in multitudes of minds, there is apprehension enough of such a widely-extended law, to cause disquietude, to excite reaction, and a recourse to any thing that will seem to narrow that law. We might notice several of the expedients, and the aiding causes, for this effect of con- tracting and reducing the extent and magnitude of the divine law. The bold, direct, decisive one, is infidelity; to deny the existence of the Supreme Lawgiver himself. Then the Sove- 364 THE COMPREHENSIVENESS OP reign Voice is silent. Then the destruction of the divine law takes place, as it were, from the centre instead of by a contraction of its wide extension. Then all things are right which men wish, and can, and dare do; right, that is to say, as to any concern of conscience, the practical regulations which atheists would feel the necessity for, would be only a matter of policy and mutual self-defence. To reject revelation, is an expedient little less summary and effectual for the purpose. A God believed, or supposed, but making no declaration of his will (and the retribution), would give very little disturbance to sinners. For, as to what has been termed natural re- ligion, though a fine systematic theory may be framed, it is, for anything like practical effect, no more than a dream. It was so among the bulk of the cultivated heathens; and now the rejecters of revelation would be sure not to allow themselves to be defrauded of their advantage, by admitting any thing more than they liked of the rules or authority of natural religion. But, not to dwell on the express and formal rejection of the divine law, but suppose it admitted, in the ordinary way, as among the THE DIVINE LAW. 365 generality in a Christian nation, there are many things to frustrate its quality of "exceeding broad." We hardly need say how effectually this is done by the indulgence of sin, in action, or thought, but in the heart. It is by the under- standing and the conscience that the divine law is to be apprehended in its amplitude. Now, nothing is more notorious than the baneful effect which indulged and practised sin has on both these. It inflicts a grossness on the un- derstanding, which renders it totally unadapted to take cognizance of anything that is to be "spiritually discerned;" as unadapted as our bodily senses are to perceive spirits. It throws a thick obscurity over the whole vision of the divine law, so that nothing of it is distinctly perceived, except when sometimes some part of it breaks out in thunder. The conscience partakes the stupefaction; is insensible to a thousand accusations and menaces of the divine law, every one of which ought to have been pungent and painful. Again, it is to be observed, that the gen- eral operation of self-love in a corrupted being, is adverse to any clear and effectual acknow- ledgment of " the exceeding breadth" of the 366 THE COMPREHENSIVENESS OP divine law. The being has a certain sense of not being in a state of peace and harmony with God, but of alienation, opposition, and in a degree, hostility; but still devotedly loves it- self. It has therefore a set of self-defensive feelings against him. But since it could not defend itself against his power, it endeavours to defend itself against his law. It ventures to question the necessity or propriety of one point of his law; refuses to admit the plain interpretation of another or to admit the clear inferences from undeniable rules. It makes large portions of the divine laws refer to other men and times; to special and tran- sient occasions and circumstances; is ingenious in inventing exemptions for itself; weakens the force of both the meaning and the authority of the divine dictates, which it cannot avert from their application to itself. Thus it "renders void" much of both the spirit and the letter; and thus places itself amidst a dwindled and falsified system of the divine legislation. Add to this, the influence of the customs and maxims of the world. For a moment, suppose these admitted to constitute the su- preme law and standard. Let all that these THE DIVINE LAW. 367 adjudge superfluous, be left out and rejected; all that these account indifferent, be set down so; all that these warrant by practice, be formally sanctioned; all that these pronounce honourable and admirable, be inscribed in golden letters; all that these have settled as true wisdom, be adopted as principles and oracles. Especially, let what the customs and notions of the world have mainly satisfied themselves with in respect to religion be ad- mitted, as the true scheme of our relations and duties to God. This system now! Let it be placed opposite to the divine law ! Would it not be like Baal's prophets con- fronting Elijah? like Satan propounding doc- trine to our Lord? like a holy angel and a devil looking in each other's face ? But, think ! this is actually the system on which the notions and habits of the multitude are formed! And thus the divine law, in its ex- ceeding breadth, is made (as it is said of the heavens) to "depart as a scroll that is rolled together. " But, short of so decidedly antichristian a standard, there is among us a great deal of an accommodating way of thinking of the divine law ; an unsound and treacherous casuistry ; a 368 THE COMPREHENSIVENESS OF sort of middle principles, by which those of divine authority are altered, and qualified, and shaped, to suit better to the habits of the world, and the temper of the times ; a defective faith in our Lord's declaration " no man can serve two masters." Another thing by which the " exceeding breadth" of the divine law is narrowed, (as to its acknowledgment and application) is, a no- tion and a feeling as if, man being so very imperfect a creature, it cannot be that there is an absolutely perfect law in authority over him. It is impossible for him to meet such a law, in full conformity, and therefore it is a moderated and more indulgent one that he is responsible to. But where is there any declaration of such a law ? And what can the idea really mean, but a tolerance and approval of something that is evil? Something different from that which is perfect less than what can this be but evil ? And shall there be a law from the holy God to sanction evil, because man is evil ? Worse, if possible, than all these modes of making void the law, is that which attempts to do it on the plea of grace; which pretends to absolve Christians from the claims of the sove- reign rule, because their justification is on an THE DIVINE LAW. 369 entirely different ground. So that they stand as independent of the law, as he is who ap- pointed it. There are different degrees in which this odious heresy is made a practical principle. A spirit truly renewed through di- vine grace becomes an emphatical approver of the law. It is a reflection of the character of Him whom he adores, and wishes to resemble. Such are the expedients, and modes, and operations, of depravity to frustrate " the com- mandment." But let us solemnly consider, that all the while, and after all, that divine law re- mains, in its exceeding breadth. Then, what should a man gain, though he could keep it out of sight delude and please himself with a dimi- nished conception of it, through his whole life on earth ? Since he must go out of the world to meet him that has appointed it, and never abrogated or changed it " not one jot or tittle." There, too, he will meet IT, this law itself, re- splendent in eternity. " Exceeding broad." It is so, by the compre- hensive applicableness of its grand simple rules. " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and soul, and strength, and thy neighbour as thyself." It is so by the ample order of its special injunctions. Where is there B B 370 THE COMPREHENSIVENESS OF a spot without a signal of the divine will ? It is so, by laying an authoritative hand on the first principles and origin from which any thing can proceed, in human spirit and action ; then it reaches to all things that do or can proceed thence. It asserts a jurisdiction over all thought and inward affection. All language is uttered under this same jurisdiction. All that the world, and each man, is in action about. And even over what is not done, it maintains its authority, and pronounces its dic- tates and judgments. It is a positive thing with respect to what is negative, omission, non- existence. Like the divine government in the material world, over the wastes, deserts, and barren sands. And from these spaces of no- thing, (as it were,) it can raise up substantial forms of evil, of sin, in evidence against men. As at the resurrection men will rise from empty wastes, where it would not have been suspected that any were concealed. Let a man look back on all his omissions, and think what the divine law can raise from them against him. Thus the law, in its exceeding breadth, is vacant no- where ; it is not stretched to this wide extent by chasms and void spaces. If a man could find one such, he might there take his posi- THE DIVIXE LAW. 371 tion for sin with impunity, if not with inno- cence. But to realize all this to the heart and con- science, what seriousness of thought is neces- sary ! What of all this will ' be visible to a careless, thoughtless spirit? And how neces- sary spiritual discernment imparted, maintained, and increased, by divine instruction and in- fluence. This brings, as it were, a new element into the creation around us. When this is given to one that had been a stupid, insensible sinner, what a manifestation, what a vision, there be- comes apparent to him of the divine law ! An inference or two from such representa- tions, will have been very obvious. One plainly is, that great self-complacency is a treacherous, deluded, and dangerous state. Again, if such be the law, how impossible is human salvation by it ! Let man be brought before it in judgment, under the condition, " cursed is every one that continueth not in all things which are written hi the book of the law, to do them." He must not shrink from this view, who is really in earnest to be saved. And one most just, and what should be natural consequence will be, a perfect horror of taking any ground at all like this for acceptance be- B B 2 372 THE COMPREHENSIVENESS OF fore God. We need not fear to assert, that, with such a view of the law, and man being such as he is, it would have been very difficult to believe even a revelation of divine mercy, which should profess to take effect on the ground of the law or not on any other ground. A strong doubt and question would have arisen; " How can the holy God (can, morally speak- ing) so set aside his law ? Why did he appoint it ! Is it not absolutely just and good ? Will it comport with holiness to suffer a vast and general violation of it, defiance of it, by our race, and no dreadful and penal consequences follow provided men should be willing to be pardoned by him, and be somewhat sorry for their having set his law at nought ? " Therefore, the rational theory would be, that if God would extend mercy and salvation to so guilty a race, it would much more pro- bably be on the ground of some quite differ- ent economy. And therefore, a revelation of something purporting to be such a quite differ- ent economy, would, beforehand, have every probability in its favour, as compared with any plan which should retain the law as the founda- tion. The plan by the law was evidently an utterly ruined plan; it could not save one; it THE DIVINE LAW. 373 could only condemn to perish. If men were to be saved, and still upon the original economy, it was to be independently of the law, and in opposition to it. But, independently, and in opposition ! Wfco would make them indepen- dent ? Who would bear them harmless in that opposition ? If the divine goodness in the form of mercy would do it, what became of the divine goodness in the form of righteousness? Should the rebellious creatures utterly violate and demolish the economy of justice, and come triumphant out of its ruins, as having forced the supreme Governor to the bare expedient of mercy ? All this gives, beforehand, a high and ra- tional probability to the new economy, con- stituted in the Mediator; acceptance, justifica- tion, salvation, solely and entirely through the work and sacrifice of Jesus Christ. The believ- ing, grateful accepters of this economy will see the more of its inestimable value, the more they apprehend of the " exceeding breadth" of the divine law. The rejecters of it may be exhorted to turn their solemn attention on that law to study it long and see whether they dare finally venture to stand on that ground. June 4th, 1823. LECTURE XXIII. THE NECESSITY AND RIGHT METHOD OF SELF-EXAMINATION. 2 COR. xiii. 5. Examine yourselves whether ye be in the faith; prove your own selves. Know ye not your own selves, how that Jesus Christ is in you, except ye be reprobates ? WHEN the necessity and value of knowledge are thought of, it is readily admitted that self- knowledge is about the most necessary of all. From of old, it has been accounted a precept of the highest wisdom, " KNOW THYSELF. " Might we not, then, wonder a little, that there should not be more of this knowledge among men, and more assiduity to acquire it? That attention should be so much averted from this concern? For I suppose our general be- lief is, that there is but little. Is not this the notion? In a numerous assembly, or in SELF-EXAMINATION. 375 the crowd of a city, it is presumed, by any one that happens to think of it, that very few, among the numbers round him, have a deep, comprehensive, well-rectified, steady, estimate of themselves, a true insight. The presump- tion, or surmise, is understood to go even as far as this; namely, that suppose any number of persons, acquainted with one another, the judgments they form of one another would, in the whole account, be nearer the truth than those which they entertain of their own selves, notwithstanding the great advantage men have for knowing themselves better than others can. But, if the case be so, how comes it to be so ? Can it be, that they do not think it worth while to apply a serious attention to so near and interesting an object ? or, that they have arbitrary and unsound rules in making the judgment? or, that no rules, nor force of un- derstanding, can preserve their rectitude in the presence of self-love, as if they softened, melt- ed, and lost their edge, in making their way through that warm, investing, protective pas- sion? Or, again, there may be a reluctance to making a rigorous scrutiny, from fear, and thus men remain in ignorance. There may 376 NECESSITY AND KIGHT METHOD be some apprehension of finding the state of the case less satisfactory than the man is allow- ing himself to assume it. This may seem like expressing an inconsistency that a man will not know what he does know. But it is too real and common a case; intimations of some- thing not right are unwillingly perceived ; apprehension of what there may be beneath is felt; a man would rather not be sure of the whole truth; would wilfully hope for the best, and so pass off from the doubtful subject, afraid to go too far inward. But here is a most remarkable and strange spectacle ! A soul afraid of itself ! afraid of being deeply intimate with itself; of knowing itself; of seeing itself. It is easily apprehended how a human spirit might be afraid of another being, of another spirit in a human body ; apprehensive in being near it, within reach of its disposition, qualities, and action, afraid to see and meet the corporeal person it is in; alarmed at what there may be, or is suspected to be, in that spirit; shrink from approach, communication, or any lure to confidence. " I have a perception of evil omen; a silent warn- ing of danger; there is possible ruin to me in that spirit." OF SELF-EXAMINATION. 377 It is easy to apprehend that a human soul might be afraid of a disembodied spirit, evin- cing its presence by voice or appearance; if it seemed to attend a man in his solitary walk, or to be a temporary visitant in his apartment. It would be an awful companionship! the revealed proximity of the other world; dark mystery personified a being presented as if in an equivocal conjunction of life and death; with powers unknown, and which the mortal can meet with no similar powers! All this, on the supposition that it were a departed human spirit. More than this, it were deemed a spirit of mightier order. Such fear, of other beings, would seem natural enough. But think of a human soul in dread of itself ! having had some glimpses of itself, afraid to meet its own full visage afraid to stay with itself, alone, still, and attentive afraid of intimate communication, lest the soul should speak out from its inmost recesses ! All the while, what it is afraid of is its own very self, from which it is every where and for ever inseparable ! A man un- easy and apprehensive in a local situation, or in the presence of other men, may think of escape; but in his own soul! there he is, and 378 NECESSITY AND RIGHT METHOD is to be perpetually. Then what a predica- ment, when a man, directly and immediately as being in himself, feels the apprehension of evil and danger! feels in the presence of something he dreads to abide with, and would fly from; would be glad to separate by a partition or veil. So that, be where he may, with other persons or alone, he has still the inevitable presence, with him and in him, of something which he cannot be at ease in trusting himself with. We were led into this kind of digression by observing, that one cause of the deficiency of self-knowledge is a fear of having the full truth disclosed. But now think a moment of the ab- surd and pernicious operation of such fear. To fear that there may be, or is, something incom- patible with safety, and therefore decline ascer- taining it ! To fear that the suspected evil may reach further and deeper than the signs dis- tinctly betray, therefore be careful to keep the alarm less than the evil may be ! To fear the suspected evil in reference to its ultimate effects and consequences; and, rather to ven- ture those consequences than firmly look to see whether we are approaching them ! Not to be willing to see how near is the precipice! In OF SELF-EXAMINATION. 379 short, to resign and abandon ourselves to be all that we fear, rather than encounter the self- manifestation and the discipline necessary for a happy change ! But let us still enforce the necessity of self- examination. Let us consider (it is a grave consideration, though it may sound insignifi- cantly in terms), that every one actually stands placed against a standard unseen, but real that by which God judges, and marks the spiritual state of every one the eternal law the rule of Christian character. Every one stands in some certain, precise, discriminated, relation to this grand rule of judgment. That is his true and exact condition. Think of all our assembly thus placed, ascertained, and judged ! If the fact could be an object of sight ! or signified by some parallel manifestation to sight ! If it were so, whatever inquisitiveness each might feel respecting the rest, surely his own marked state would be the chief object of his eager attention. Well, but should it be less so when he considers and knows it is so dis- criminated, marked, signed, in the sight of God? that there is the standard, and some certain degree upon it is his degree ? Is there any thing in the world so important for him to 380 NECESSITY AND RIGHT METHOD know; not with the infallible precision which belongs to the judgment of God alone, but with a substantial conformity to truth ? There is a manifestation of the divine rule and there is himself to bring, with all his consciousness, into comparison with it. And the state he is in, by the decision of that rule, is the state of his relations with all that is the most solemn, in heaven and earth, in time and eternity. There- fore, " know your own selves." Let us briefly notice the objects of self-ex- amination. We might ask a man, " What are you most concerned to know of yourself? Is it your leading point to ascertain something in which you hope for a gratification of your vanity or pride? the measure of your talent? your qualifications to shine? your merits as contrasted with the unworthiness, or even the excellence, of other men? your ability and claims to maintain competition with them?" Instead of this, we would advise Examine in that as to which you are naturally the least inclined to examine yourselves; that respect- ing which you are the most afraid to examine ; that which you find self-love constantly en- deavouring to draw a veil over; that which, whenever you do turn the inspection that way, OF SELF-EXAMINATION. 381 begins to throw reproach and humiliation ; that which you most feel you need to know when you approach the throne of God; that, any uncertainty about which awakens the most solicitude and apprehension whenever you think of death; that, which forces itself on your attention when you think what the inhabitants of heaven must be. The earnest force of this examination should fix on the points named by the apostle " whe- ther ye be in the faith" whether " Jesus Christ be in you." He was, indeed, aiming at a particular point in these questions; namely, Had they not proof of his being a true apostle of Christ ; and his having brought to them the real religion of Christ ; had they not proof in their own personal Christianity? But his ap- peal equally enforced the question, whether they had a personal experience of Christianity. Let, then, the self-examiner's earnest inqui- sition be directed to this great point " whe- ther" he "be in the faith;" whether he is decidedly more than a cold assenting believer in the Christian doctrines. That a man may be, and yet at the same tune be in may be vitally and actively in a spirit opposite to all these heavenly truths. But in the faith? so 382 NECESSITY AND RIGHT METHOD in it as to be powerfully withdrawn and with- held from the spirit and dominion of the world ? encircled separated guarded? So in it as to have a habitual prevailing order of views, feelings, motives, preferences, purposes, created and animated by it? So in it, as to be in a cordial and zealous league with its faithful ad- herents ? The other form of expression for the same thing is, " that Jesus Christ is in you." He may be in the thoughts as a commanding object of contemplation. The question for examina- tion will be, Is he so? He may be in the affections the object of love, and of awful reverence. Is he so ? He may be in the con- science, as an authority. He may be in the soul, in the sense that somewhat of his likeness, his image, is impressed upon it. He may, in short, be established in the soul in theory, in vital interest, in exclusive reliance, and in hope as its sole, and all-sufficient, and almighty Redeemer. Thus he shall be in the soul as an indwelling presence, without which it were life- Jess and hopeless ; by which, it is alive to God, and looks forward to eternal felicity. Now, whether this be, in some good measure the case, is matter, pre-eminently, for self-examination. OF SELF-EXAMINATION. 383 In all such important points, let men beware of assuming, without the process of " proving." We might think of a few observations in aid of a correct and salutary performance of this duty. It should be superfluous to name the neces- sity of a distinct, strong, steady, apprehension of the pure standard fixed by the divine au- thority. But how little this is recognized among the multitude amenable to it ! "Tis as if the tables written on Sinai had been sub- jected to be passed through the camp, for the people to revise, interpolate, erase, or wholly substitute it, at their pleasure. Never Jesuit's commentary on the Bible falsified it more, than the world's system of principles perverts or sup- plants that of the Almighty. This operation began even in Eden, through " the wisdom that is from beneath," and has continued ever since. Nor would we dwell on, as another thing, the necessity of a habit of reflection. We fear we may have reiterated this topic to the weari- ness of our hearers. But in truth there does seem to be a great defect in this point, even in the religious community. Is it not too evident, that people's attention and thought mainly go outward? insomuch that retiring inward would 384 NECESSITY AND RIGHT METHOD be like retreating into a narrow, dark, desolate, comfortless apartment of a house, or into a prison or a cavern. (Remark on the effect of the public activities and assemblies concerning religion.) But there can be no effective self- examination without a resolute and often re- peated effort to retire inward, and stay awhile, and pointedly inspect what is there. And here occurs one plain instruction to our purpose, namely, that the self-examination should not expend its chief exercise on the mere external conduct ; for if that alone, in its simple gross sense, were to be taken account of, a well regulated formalist or Pharisee, nay possibly a hypocrite, might go off with con- siderable self-complacency. However bad the state of the world is in practical morality, it is unquestionable that, if we could for a moment suppose the Sovereign Judge to pronounce, separately and exclusively, on the external moral state collectively, and on the internal state, the latter sentence would be far, very far, the graver and the darker. And you have no doubt that there are persons innumerable who, if they might be allowed to separate and choose, would instantly and eagerly prefer standing their award on the ground of their OP SELF-EXAMINATION. 385 external conduct, to that of their internal state; (supposing them to see that state in its true light.) And you can imagine that often a man has been frightened out of his soul to take refuge in the apparently better quality of his conduct. Any impulse the examiner feels to do so, should warn him to stay awhile longer there in the interior. It is especially there that the great substance lies of what is wrong, or right, as towards God. All this, however, does not mean that the external itself can be essentially right (though formally and techni- cally so) any further than the state of the mind is right. In connexion with this, we may observe, that self-examination should be exercised on a principle of independence, in a considerable de- gree, on the opinions, the estimates, of others. It is true, that good use may be made of those opinions, whether favourable or hostile (and we do not forget having observed, that others' opinions of us may sometimes be more just than our own.) But consider, nevertheless, how those opinions may have a wrong effect, in two ways. First suppose they are partial and favourable, to a highly flattering degree. And what then ? The testimonies of partiality and C c NECESSITY AND RIGHT S1ETHOD approbation, the praise, the flattery, perhaps the admiration, will not the man be mightily inclined to take all this for just, even to the utmost point ? Will his self-love sound a less musical strain in his ear ? If even he had doubted before, to assume so much in his own favour, will he not confidently assume it now ? His faults will shrivel, his excellencies will ex- pand, to the dimensions of so flattering an estimate. He will willingly forget to consider, how much of circumstance or fancy there may be in this partiality ; and how much there is in him that the partial judges cannot know. But secondly, suppose the contrary case unfavour- able opinion, suspicion, censure, deprecia- tion, What then ? Then, an excitement of all the defensive feelings ! Then, all these censures are from ignorance, perverseness, or perhaps even from jealousy and envy ! He cherishes the more his beloved self, thus suffering in- justice; with an extenuation of what cannot be altogether denied, and a forced magnifying of supposed worthier characteristics. There is, therefore, a necessity for cool, deliberate inde- pendence of judgment. And this will be pro- moted by a solemn sense of standing before the judgment of God, the grand requisite in all OF SELF-EXAMINATION. 387 self-examination. What does that all-searching, infallible Intelligence see and detect ? In that presence, repute, pretensions, semblances, pre- sumptions, excuses, clear away. There, the self-examiner if he will stay there long enough, in seriousness and simplicity is re- duced to the very truth. And that this is the case, is one cause of the too prevailing reluctance to frequent that presence. This reluctance must be overcome ; that is, at least, practically so. And amidst all his slighter judgments of himself, or others' opinions of him, he should still be remembering and say- ing, "I have to take myself under another inspection," and should often do so. It is very obvious to add, (and has often been noted,) that the self-examiner should avail him- self of the circumstances, incidents, occasions, and seasons, which may aid to reveal him to himself. These things throw transient lights on his internal principles ; they come upon his soul by a kind of surprise, and take it unpre- pared with its undefensive fallacies. His mind comes out simply and unawares, for a moment. Let him observe how he is affected, for instance, by some sudden cause of fear ; by some seizure of bodily distemper; by some instance of death c c 2 388 NECESSITY AND RIGHT METHOD near him; by some flagrant display of irre- ligion; by some signal fall and disgrace in a professor of religion; by some ones' acknow- ledging, with grief and terror, (perhaps in a last illness,) that he had been but deceiving himself with a vain form of religion. At the occurrence of such things, the soul will sometimes give a sudden, involuntary intimation of its state. Such emotions should be recorded and remem- bered, as well as observed. And such hints and signs should be followed up, should lead to investigation. It is a proper admonition, that slight symp- toms (what may seem so) should not be disre- garded. Say, " How happens that ? what may it indicate ? " In medical science, what seem slight symptoms are sometimes regarded as of great significance; the skilful judge is struck by their recurrence as indications of something serious, and as deciding what it is. But observe also, that the self-examiner should take a comprehensive account, combin- ing the many matters of indication and proof. For, if he shall content himself with selecting only some particular points, his self-partiality will almost be certain to choose those which seem the most favourable ; and he may be OF SELF-EXAMINATION. 389 betrayed to make these the interpreters of all the rest, (or the substitutes.) And let him especially beware of making some mere doctrinal point the great test and assurance, in self-defence under the ab- sence of immediate experimental and practical evidence. (Conversation between Cromwell and Dr. Goodwin.) In concluding, it should be strongly enforced, that doubt, that uncertainty, ought to be a powerful incentive to self-examination. For surely, the chief questions in the concern cannot be decided too soon. Indeed, to be content to remain in doubt would itself be one of the most ominous signs. If the true state of the case be unhappy and unsafe, it should be dis- tinctly seen, that the soul may be instantly in action. If the state be, on the whole, such as the Supreme Judge approves, and safe for time and eternity, who would not, in this evil world, desire to possess the joy of knowing it to be so? October 8th, 1823. LECTURE XXIV. CHRIST, THOUGH INVISIBLE, THE OBJECT OF DEVOUT AFFECTION. 1 PETER i. 8. Whom having not seen ye love; in whom though now ye see him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy un- speakable and full of glory. IT is familiar to all experience and observa- tion how much the action of our spiritual nature is dependent on the senses; especially how much the power of objects to interest the affections depends on their being objects of sight. The affections often seem reluctant to admit objects to their internal communion except through the avenues of the senses. The objects must be, as it were, authenticated by the senses, must first occupy and please them, or they are regarded by the inner faculties as something strange, foreign, out of our sympathies, or unreal. CHRIST, THE OBJECT OF AFFECTION. 391 Sometimes a philosophic spirit, proudly aspiring to a refined power of abstraction and speculation, is indignant that it should be so dependent for its objects of interest, and its emotions, on the senses. It earnestly essays to create, as it were, within itself, an order of realities of its own. A Christian mind also, from a far better principle, is often grieved and indignant that the objects of the senses so much more readily obtain favour and power within it, than the objects of its intel- lectual apprehension; that it is so much more easy to walk by sight than by faith. And it is a worthy and noble strife of a Christian spirit to attain a more vital and affecting communion with things invisible, At the same time, it is of necessity that we must yield in a measure to the effect of the constitution of our nature. By that constitu- tion, the objects of sense, the things es- pecially that are seen, have some evident and important advantages for engaging our affec- tions, over the other class of objects. Let us specify a few. The objects which we can see, give a more positive and direct impression of reality; there can be no dubious surmise whether they exist or not. The sense of 392 CHRIST, THOUGH INVISIBLE, their presence is more absolute. When an object is seen before me, or beside me, I am instantly in all the relations of being present; I cannot feel and act as if no such object were there ; I cannot by an act of my mind put it away from me. Objects seen, may have very striking qualities simply as objects of sight; they may have visible splendour, or beauty, which strike and please independently of any thinking. Here therefore is a class of qualities of great power to interest us, which the objects of mere belief, of faith, have nothing to set against. Again, the good or evil, pleasure or griev- ance, which the visible objects cause to us, are often immediate; they are now; without any anticipation I am pleased, benefited, or per- haps distressed. Whereas the objects of faith can be regarded as to have their effect upon us in futurity. They have really very much of this prospective character; but we thoughtlessly make it much more exclusively such than it is. Visible objects, when they have been seen, can be clearly kept in mind in absence; during long periods, at the greatest distance. We can revert to the time when they were seen. We can have a lively image; seem to THE OBJECT OF DEVOUT AFFECTION. 393 be looking at it still. But the great objects of faith having never been seen, the mind has no express type to revert to. The idea of them is to be still again and again formed anew; fluctuates and varies; is brighter and dimmer; alternates as between substance and shadow. With visible objects, (speaking of intelligent beings,) we can have a sensible and definite communication. We are evidently in one an- other's society; look and are looked upon; speak and are heard and answered; it is a positive reciprocation, and each feels that it is so. Invisible beings do not afford us this perfect sense of communication. We may think that we are seen and heard, but there are no signs of recognition. With visible beings (that is, with human beings) we have the sense of equality, of one kind; we are of the same nature and economy; in the same general condition of humanity and mortality. But as to the unseen existences, we are altogether out of their order. There is an unlikeness and a disparity immeasurable and unknown. We know not the manner of their dwelling in the creation; in what manner they may be near us; what their perceptions 394 CHRIST, THOUGH INVISIBLE, and estimates of us may be; what intelligence, what powers they possess; and we have no power which can affect them; we cannot benefit or hurt them; they are totally separate, and infinitely independent. With the visible beings, again, we can have a certain sense of appropriation; can obtain an interest in them which they will acknowledge. What they are is partly for me, partly mine, " this is my relative; this is my friend, my benefactor;" or, "this has a kind regard for me, as being his friend, benefactor," &c. But the invisible beings ! they have a high relation- ship of their own ! They stand aloof, and far outside of the circle within which we could comprehend what we can call ours. What could we do to arrest their sympathies? We have nothing to offer to draw them into the bands of friendship. They are not to be for our sakes imprisoned in this dark, and mortal, and sinful corner of the creation. We want some good from objects, whether seen or invisible. And the object, the person seen, is presented to us under this advantage, while we are looking for the benefit from him, that we can perceive him performing or pre- paring the good for us. We hear him promise; THE OBJECT OF DEVOUT AFFECTION. 395 see him take measures; observe him active. We see that he aims, devises, exerts his power, see how there is a process to accomplish the good we wish. But if an invisible agent is to employ himself for our welfare, it is by an unseen process and means. We must wait and expect, receiving no palpable intimation; perceiving no distinct action, no reply to inquiry, no assurance as to time, no certifica- tion, except through faith that the unseen benefactor has not turned all his attention away to another part of the universe. Such are some of the advantages of converse with objects that are seen, over that with the invisible. And, in this view, taken exclusively, it was a high privilege that was enjoyed by those who saw and conversed with our Lord on earth. " Behold the Lamb of God !" " We have seen with our eyes, and our hands have handled of the word of life." It may have often occurred to most persons to imagine what a signal advantage that must have been; espe- cially in the point of feeling the affections irre- sistibly drawn and devoted to him. To have been personally in the presence, the society of a being believed to be the Saviour of the world ; to have reflected, " here, in this visible form, 396 CHRIST, THOUGH INVISIBLE, are embodied the mercy, the sanctity, the wis- dom, and the power, of heaven!" To have looked on his countenance to descry some mys- tic characters, intimating the indwelling glory ! To have met the rays of divine benignity in his look, and have felt as if they shed light and life into the very soul ! To have heard him pro- nounce revelations of truth which the reason of mortals could never reach, intermingled with every sign of gentleness, compassion, and yet authority! To have been present at many of his mighty operations of power and mercy ! To have witnessed the last affecting and amazing scenes of his presence on earth! The per- suasion is, that there must have been irresist- ible captivation ; that every source of affection in the soul would have been opened, and the heart devoted to such an object for ever ! In a manner parallel, though so inferior in degree, a powerful influence on the affections and passions may be imagined as inevitable, if we could have beheld the most illustrious of the prophets or apostles, as Moses, Elijah, Daniel, Paul. And, on the view of the matter thus far, we might be apt to feel, as if an immense advantage had been lost to us, for the means of commanding our affections to the best object, in our not THE OBJECT OF DEVOUT AFFECTION. 397 having seen, and not being permitted to see, the personal manifestation of Christ. But this is only one side of the subject. Look a moment at the other. And we need not fear to assert, that, on the whole, it is a high advantage not to have seen Jesus Christ ; an advantage in favour of the affections claimed to be devoted to him. We need not dwell on the possibility of feel- ing a great interest hi objects we have never beheld. Recollect what a measure of senti- ment, of affection in its various modes, has been given to the illustrious personages of history; the glowing admiration in contemplating, as there displayed, heroes, deliverers of their country, avengers of oppression, and men of transcendent intellectual power. A softer emo- tion, but a warm one, has been excited at the view, the imaginary sight, of the examples of consummate virtue, such as was not dis- played hi tumult and conflict; philanthropists, who exhausted their lives in alleviating dis- tress; men of inflexible conscience and inte- grity, even to the death ; examples of suffering innocence, persons of signal piety, who lived as on the verge of heaven, and had not, hi spirit, far to go when they died. Think ! what a cap- 398 CHRIST, THOUGH INVISIBLE, " tivation you have felt in beholding them, in thought; how the spirit has struggled, as it were, to place itself in their company ! Nay, the mere imaginary beings of poetry and fiction have often laid mighty hold of the heart. It has accepted them as affecting realities, despite of the understanding, which knew they never existed, which hardly believed that such things could exist ; and some of them will retain their place and favour in the mind as long as we live. All this shows the possibility of giving an ani- mated affection to objects that never appeared to us in visible reality. But, there is a nobler manifestation of this possibility. Think of all the affection of human hearts that has been given to the Saviour of the world, since he withdrew his visible presence from it ! He has appeared to no eye of man since the apostles ; but millions have loved him, with a fervency which nothing could extinguish, in life or death. Think of the great " army" of those who have suffered death for this love, and have cherished it in death! And a mightier number still would have died for it, and with it, if summoned to do so. Think of all those who, in the incitement and inspiration of this love, have indefatigably laboured to promote the THE OBJECT OP DEVOUT AFFECTION. 399 glory of its great object ! And the innumerable multitude of those who, though less prominently distinguished, have felt this sacred sentiment living in the soul, as the principle of its best life, and the source of all its immortal hopes! This is a splendid fact in the history of our race, a glorious exception to the vast and fatal expenditure of human affection on unworthy and merely visible things. So grand a tribute of the soul has been redeemed to be given to the Redeemer, though an object unseen ! And we still assert, that it is to the advan- tage of the affection of his disciples toward him that they see him not. It may be recollected, that a special benediction is pronounced by our Lord himself, on the faith that operates to pro- duce this love. " Blessed are they that have not seen and yet have believed." But, more than this; revert, in thought, to the personal manifestation of our Lord on earth, and con- sider how it would act on the believing specta- tor's mind. Sublime greatness would, must, by an inevitable law of human feeling, be reduced, shaded, diminished, as to its impression on the mind, by being shrouded and presented in a mere human form. Even when the intellect recognized a super-human glory dwelling there 400 CHRIST, THOUGH INVISIBLE, (" the fulness of the Godhead bodily"), there is yet such an obstinate control of the senses over the mind's apprehension, that the sight of a mere common human form would, absolutely, in a degree, contract, depress, and prostrate, that apprehension. Has it not struck your thoughts, that, to observe the shape, features, limbs, and ordinary action, of that form, must have made an impression which would be in counteraction to the impressions of majesty ? Consider also, that, in beholding a glorious and divine nature in such a manifestation, the affection of those devoted to him would fix very much, often chiefly, on the mere human quality of the being before them, and therefore, would be familiarized, shall we say vulgarized, down to that proportion ; it might be most warm and cordial, but not elevated and awful. And, in fact, our Lord had sometimes to admonish and deter his affectionate friends from an assump- tion inconsiderately ventured by them on the ground of his humiliated appearance. And they appear sometimes in a perplexity of feeling be- tween his plain, humble humanity, and that mysterious glory which at intervals lightened upon them from within. Perhaps the chief design of the transfiguration was to correct and raise their low ideas of him. THE OBJECT OP DEVOUT AFFECTION. 401 Consider besides, that, under the full direct impression of sight, there would be a great restriction on faith, acting in the way of imagi- nation. The mind does not know how to ex- pand into splendid ideal conception upon an object presented close, and plain, and familiar, to sight. Should not such considerations make it evi- dent, that to see the Messiah in his personal manifestation, was a mode of contemplating him very inferior, for the excitement of the sublimer kind of affection, to that which we have to exer- cise by faith? It is true, that to those who regard him as nothing more than a man, all this will appear impertinent and fantastic. But those who solemnly believe their salvation to depend on his being infinitely more, will feel the importance of all that gives scope to their faculties for magnifying the idea of their Re- deemer. This scope is the greater for our " not having seen ; " since, our conceptions are not reduced and confined down to a pre- cise image of human personality, a particular, individual, graphical form, which would be always present to the mind's eye, in every meditation on the exalted Redeemer. We have no exact and invariable image, plac- D D 402 CHRIST, THOUGH INVISIBLE, ing him before us as a person that we know ; exhibiting him in the mere ordinary predica- ment of humanity. It does invincibly appear to me, that this would be a depressive circum- stance in solemn and elevated contemplations. We are not informed how this circumstance did operate in the minds of the apostles, who had seen him. It would have been interesting to know in what manner, and with what effect, the precise and familiar image mingled with their lofty and magnificent thoughts of him. But it is clearly better to be left, as we are, to an indistinct and shadowy conception of the person of our Saviour as seen on earth. For, thus we can, with somewhat the more facility, give our thoughts an unlimited enlargement in contemplating his sublime character and nature. Thus, also, we are left at greater freedom in the effort to form some grand, though glimmer- ing, idea of him as possessing a glorious body, assumed after his victory over death. Our free- dom of thought is the more entire for arraying the exalted Mediator in every glory which speculation, imagination, devotion, can combine, to shadow forth the magnificence of such an adored object. Do not let it seem as if such a train of THE OBJECT OP DEVOUT AFFECTION. 403 thought were like being ashamed of the humili- ation of our Lord. We cannot be ashamed to see our humble nature so honoured as by his assuming even its inferior part. We cannot be ashamed to see such an illustration of the value set on our souls, as that he, the Judge of their value, would descend from heaven to assume a body to redeem them. But it is important that our conceptions of him should but little rest on the level, if we may so speak, of his state of humiliation. In the scriptures, besides the doctrine of his divi- nity, there is much in the character of the imagery by which he is represented, to demand an elevation in our ideas of his personal glory. For example, the manner in which he appears in the visions of Daniel ; the fact of the trans- figuration ; the overpowering lustre in his mani- festation to St. Paul; and the transcendent images in the visions of St. John. It is clearly intended that our predominant idea should not be humble and familiar. And we must think that, in this respect, there is a very serious fault, an unintentional impiety, in many of our popular devotional writings, even in such as are designed and used for public worship. Such, we think, is the advantage, to later Chris- D D 2 404 CHRIST, THOUGH INVISIBLE, tians, of not having seen their Lord in a mortal form. The text may suggest to us an additional idea, which it could not to those to whom the apostle wrote. We not only have not seen him, but we live very long after the time in which he could be seen; we, therefore, in en- deavouring to form a sublime conception of him, can add, and accumulate upon the idea, all the glory that has arisen to him from the progress of his cause in the world ever since. So many mighty interpositions ; conquests gained ; strongholds of darkness demolished ; such a multitude of sinful immortal spirits redeemed, devoted to him on earth, and now triumphing with him in heaven ; all this is become an added radiance around the idea of HIM ! Such is the object of Christian faith. As such an exalted being, he is to be believed on unseen. "In whom, though now ye see him not, yet believing," that is, holding a most firm assurance that such he is, and regarding him with an earnest interest as such a Re- deemer. And then, an inseparable result or associate of that faith, is to " love" him, though unseen ; to give the soul's affection to him ; to think of him with complacency and gratitude ; THE OBJECT OP DEVOUT AFFECTION. 405 to think of him as what it were death to want ; to devote the soul to him as possessing the supreme excellence that deserves this devote- ment, and as having done that for us that demands it. And then, finally (on which we cannot en- large), through this faith and love, there will be "joy-" " Ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory." Most rationally such believers rejoice, because, so believing and loving, they have a present, direct access to where he main- tains, though unseen, the exercise of his media- torial power. They believe all that is promised by him, and in his name. They have the sense, the assurance, of a sacred union with him, which involves an ultimate participation of his glory and joy. They consider him as actually pre- paring for them the felicity of another state, and as conducting and training them toward it. They can sometimes imagine somewhat of that felicity and how can they imagine it as to be theirs, and not rejoice? And, inasmuch as these anticipations are of something unseen, unrealized, and indefinitely great, the "joy" is correspondent ; it is " unspeakable," in this sense, that it is not restricted, not limited to a precise measure, but expansive, mingled with the sense of mystery. It aspires to be 406 CHRIST THE OBJECT OF AFFECTION. commensurate with unknown possibilities, and so is " unspeakable," as well as in its emphasis. And the soul of man (if not sunk and stupified in the earth), aspires for ever to a joy having this quality, that is, undefinable, not reducible to exact and competent expression, that goes beyond all assigned limits and calculation. See in all this, how the joy of Christians the only persons entitled to rejoice on earth is both in its sentiment and its causes, combined with, founded upon, a recognition of Christ. And we cannot close without adding one remark, a common and obvious one indeed; On the supposition of our Lord's being merely a human person, however exalted in prophetic office, no language expressive of the sentiments and emotions regarding him could be more absurdly extravagant, more unworthy of apos- tolic seriousness and wisdom, than such ex- pressions as those of the text; to which, nevertheless, there are very, very many, throughout the New Testament that corres- pond. On this hypothesis, no men ever wrote or spoke in a strain of more inflated fanaticism than they who were commissioned to illuminate the world ! September 30, 1824. LECTURE XXV. NOAH AND THE DELUGE. HEBREWS xi. 7- By faith Noah, being waj~ned of God of things not seen as yet, moved tcithfear, prepared an ark to the saving of his house ; by the which he condemned the ujorld, and became heir of the righteousness which is by faith. THE apostle was to inculcate the importance and necessity of faith, that is, the assured and efficacious belief of things on the divine testimony, these things not being themselves present, in their own evidence, either to the senses or to reason. Things unseen; some of them unseen be- O * cause they are of a spiritual nature; some, because far off in past time; some, because yet in futurity. So wide a sphere must that faith extend to, which is yet absolutely essential to religion. These things, of so grand a com- 408 NOAH AND THE DELUGE. pass and variety, are to be firmly believed, in the simple intellectual sense; and more than so, they must be " believed with the heart ; " so believed, that they shall have their due and commanding influence on the active powers of the soul. This is the required faith; this, from the beginning of the world to the end, is essential to the character of the chil- dren of God; a most noble, a sublime power in the human soul, if it can exist there. But, if there were not examples, it would seem difficult to conceive that such a power can be there, considering how the soul is enclosed in matter, within the bodily senses, and thickly and closely surrounded by material objects; continually occupied and affected by present objects and interests; pressed upon by a thousand matters of present good and evil; and in addition, a fatal contentment for it to be so; a perverse, a deplorable indisposition to go out from and beyond this enclosing sphere of present objects, to converse with God, and an unseen world; and to go forward in solemn thought into hereafter. All this considered, it would seem as if such a faith as that required were something quite beyond the capacity of our nature, and so it is utterly, NOAH AND THE DELUGE. 409 except by a divine change wrought upon that nature. Great indeed would the difficulty of such a thing appear. It was well, therefore, for the apostle to bring in view a splendid assemblage of examples of this faith; real instances, in which faith has been embodied as a living spectacle; showing its possibility, its power, its manner of operation, its worthiness, and its great reward. And this assemblage (in chapter xi.) contains (with some exceptions, of inferior character) the prime of the ancient world. (Comparison between them and the heroes and demigods of mythology; nay, the heroes, the sages, and the men celebrated for virtue, in the ancient heathen history.) Very early in the series appears the patriarch Noah, the second grand progenitor of the human race, a pre-eminently conspicuous ob- ject, inasmuch as the whole human world is seen reduced and contracted down to him and his small family; a very narrow isthmus be- tween a world of men before, and a world after. If but there a fatal breach had been made! If the dart of death had fallen on that one family, in the only inhabited tene- ment in the world ! And, the frailty of mor- tality, and its surrounding dangers, were there ! 410 NOAH AND THE DELUGE. A fire might have kindled there; lightning might have struck; a malignant fever might have seized that little household; one of the formidable beasts there might have broken loose, and the supernatural restraint and spell on its fierce temperament might have been for a moment suspended ! There, and thus liable, (but for special divine intervention) was all that existed of man on the earth! but for which intervention, the vast scheme of Provi- dence for the subsequent ages had been set aside; the appointment of a Redeemer had been frustrated! There, as in a cradle surrounded with perils, was the infancy of the immense population that has spread over the world. In this great crisis man was preserved. Our complacency in contemplating this great pre- servation would have been much greater, if man, in the transition, had left his depravity behind, with the ancient and extinguished race. But that was a radical quality it faithfully and fatally inhered and accompanied ! Millions of deaths, and deaths expressly and specially on its account, could not cause IT to die. It lurked in the ark itself, infinitely the most fell and direful serpent that was there. Yet the wickedness of man appears to have been more NOAH AND THE DELUGE. 411 universal and unmingled in the times before the flood. It seems an exclusive expression when the Lord said to Noah, " Thee have I seen righteous before me in this generation." A nearly solitary individual of determined piety and holiness in such a generation, Avould be in circumstances to need habitual direct communications from heaven. Among these communications was one which could not, reasonably, surprise the patriarch, though it would make a most awful impression. He was " warned of God !" The time of the catastrophe was signified to him one hundred and twenty years before-hand. This, however, would seem to place the event far off (accor- ding to men's calculations of time). There was now the trial of the patriarch's faith. Would the Almighty really make a vast blank in his creation? Was the declaration meant for more than a mere general expression of his wrath, a menace, to alarm and intimidate ? No event the most remotely like this, had ever yet been known in the world. And how, by any possibility, was it to take place? And, as to constructing an enormous vessel, to save him- self and all the terrestrial animals, by what means was he to effect any such unparalleled 412 NOAH AND THE DELUGE, work? (A vessel of burden equal to nearly twenty ships of the line.) While attempting it, would not he be assailed by the universal scorn, and at length by the destructive violence, of the wicked multitude ? How were all the various animals to be brought to the receptacle, and kept in order there ? And, even supposing all this were done, what safety still could there be amidst such a dreadful commotion and con- fusion of the elements ? in such a breaking up of the whole order of nature? Then, is not this apparent revelation from God a visionary fancy, a gloomy delusion ? So might he have mused and questioned with himself. And, certainly, a case so strange and astonishing did require that he should make sure he had the clearest evidence of a divine communication. He did make sure of this. It was evident to him that it was God that had spoken to him, and he believed the declaration. The proper consequence followed; he was " moved with fear," and he set about the work that was commanded him. Believing, simply believing, is the basis of vital faith ; but if this be all, it comes to nothing. It avails and suffices no more than if Noah had contented himself with drawing a plan, or NOAH AND THE DELUGE. 413 shaping a model of the prescribed ark, and perhaps marking the trees that would serve for the timber. To each belief, relative to impor- tant concerns, there is some appropriate affec- tion or passion ; and the belief must bring that into exercise. Noah's belief excited his " fear." And, in concerns involving practice, there is an action appropriate to each belief and corres- ponding emotion, he " prepared an ark." With this mechanical employment, we are told he combined the "preaching of righteousness" to that wicked and abandoned generation. "While the ark was preparing." And this mere glimpse of information is all that is given us, of more than a century preceding the most memorable event, except one, of all time ; an interval too, during which, doubtless, every thing was in undeviating, unsuspended progress toward the catastrophe. It will often occur to us, in reading of the great events in the sacred history, how little the divine wisdom judged it necessary for us to know of things which it would have been inexpressibly interesting to know. For instance, in what manner Noah's announcement of the divine prediction was re- ceived; in what measure and manner he was assisted in his mighty labour by the people, 414 NOAH AND THE DELUGE. and with what feeling, on their part. Think of the persons employed asking and receiving from him precise directions, about one part and another, with explanations respecting the pur- pose of it and all this in the mere temper of workmen! Again, whether the ark, in its construction, was regarded with absolute in- difference, (except as an object of scorn,) or, whether it did strike any of them as an ominous spectacle. To the generality, no doubt it afforded endless amusement in their conversations. Whether there were not de- signs formed and attempted to destroy it, and if so, whether they were frustrated by sudden strokes of divine vengeance. (A fire from heaven on some profane and daring incendiary.) What might be the strain of Noah's addresses to the people ; whether, in rebuking their wickedness, he was authorized to enlarge on offers and promises of mercy to repentance ; whether the denunciations of the Almighty were by any means made known to the entire population of the earth; whether his admo- nitions ceased, or changed their language, when the ark was coming very near its completion. And our imagination will represent his mingled and profound emotions at seeing thus combined NOAH AND THE DELUGE. 415 in the same fact the assurance of his safety and of their destruction; his feelings in placing the last timbers on the structure, and in being perhaps assisted to do it by some of these doomed hands ; and looking down from the elevation on numbers gazing with idle curiosity and impious mockery, anticipating with what other feelings and language, ere long, sur- rounding multitudes would look at this struc- ture, closed and inaccessible ! In looking abroad over the region, while the last beams and planks were in adjusting, he would feel that, in effect, he was preparing the whole earth for one grave of all its inhabitants ; that heaven was arraying him as to be the mournful high priest at a stupendous sacrifice, in which all that had the breath of life was to be offered at once; that the time was at hand when, at every breathing of his own, he should be sensible that countless numbers were hi the agony of suffocation; and that yet a little while, and he would find himself in the midst of a silent and solitary world ! But, all this while, perhaps nothing unusual was taking place, there were no portentous signs, or extraordinary movements. When all was completed, in the structure and the stores, 416 NOAH AND THE DELUGE. there might be a short interval of inconceivable suspense and expectation. Imagine the emotion at the first decisive indication ! Suppose this to be, the voluntary approach and entrance into the ark of a pair of animals, of a species timidly averse, or destructively hostile, to man, coming without the least appearance of fear or ferocity. The shock of an earthquake would not have produced a more powerful sensation than such a first circumstance. Infallible sign that the decree of heaven had not been revoked, and was on the very point of being executed ! And this would be followed rapidly, no doubt, by the various animals crowding to the grand recep- tacle, moved to do so by a supernatural im- pulse. " They shall come to thee into the ark." This must have been, to the most hardened un- believers and scoffers, a portentous sight. But still, all the land continued dry, as usual. When, and whence, was the water to come? This would be a matter of most fearful inquisi- tiveness and expectation to the inhabitants of the ark. The intensity of this inquiring ex- pectation would prepare them to behold, at length, with an awful emotion, the heavens blackening, over the world, and a rain, pre- ternatural, perhaps, in its quantity, and evi- NOAH AND THE DELUGE. 417 dently so, after a while, by its unremitting con- tinuance. Then was the time for all mankind to be " moved with fear," but for Noah to fear no longer. Observe, that fear, entertained effec- tually at the earlier season, prevents it at the later. The salutary fear of God, of his dis- pleasure, of his future judgment, seriously ad- mitted, and acted upon, at his first " warnings," and especially in early life, what is its con- sequence, at later seasons, when calamities come, when the end of life approaches ? And, on the contrary, what is the consequence at last of the early and persevering rejection of that fear, in thoughtlessness or scorn ? How many examples are there at all times, that are analogous to those of Noah and the impious multitude, especially analogous to the latter ! " The waters prevailed upon the earth ;" overwhelmed all the lower tracts with all the inhabitants that could not escape thence, and gradually rose upon the eminences. But, as to the question, in what manner this was accom- plished, we are lost in the profoundest mystery. " Whence could this stupendous accession of water come, and whither return ?" is a question which philosophy has in vain tried to answer; E E 418 NOAH AND THE DELUGE. to answer, that is to say, by any thing more than mere conjectural speculation. And the only probable conjecture seems to be, that " the great deep" spoken of, the fountains of which were " broken up," is to be understood as a vast reservoir within the globe, and that this water was made to gush out, in mighty eruptions, through the surface, either by an immediate efficacy of the divine will, or, much more pro- bably, by the effect of some law of nature ex- traordinarily applied by Him. This seems the only conjecture that affords any rational, or even conceivable notion, of whence such an enormous mass of water could come, and whi- ther retire. Any actual proof, on the subject, must be utterly beyond the reach of science; and He that knows the whole cause and process has not chosen to inform us. But, at the same time, besides universal tradition, there is demon- strative proof of the fact of such a deluge, con- firmatory of the sacred history. This evidence is becoming more palpable every year, latterly, through the researches and inferences of sci- ence. There are found throughout Europe, in Asia and America, and in all parts of the world where the contents of the earth have been NOAH AND THE DELUGE. 419 explored, both in lower grounds and far up toward the highest, innumerable animal remains (bones, whole skeletons, &c.) in such circum- stances as to prove, most evidently, that they were deposited and covered there by an over- whelming flood with a striking similarity to show that it must have been the same flood, and circumstances indicating there had been but one such flood. We are to set out of view here those animal remains that are found far in the solid depths of the earth, in the state of stones, or in the substance of rocks. These our Christian naturalists are now feeling themselves compelled to refer to some far more ancient pe- riod, probably long ages before the globe was made the habitation of man. But return to Noah and think how solemn a moment that would be, when the ark was per- ceived to have left the ground ! the decided rending of his tie with the world, with all hu- manity, with the old accustomed economy under which he had lived more than half a thousand years ! The world, and all that was on its ample surface, was gone for him ; the dwellings, the plantations, the people, he would see no more ! He was committed wholly to a Sovereign Providence. Ideas of various, alto- 2 420 NOAH AND THE DELUGE. gether new, and almost infinite hazards, would occur to his mind. But it was enough that he had obeyed the Almighty, and was sure of his care. And, if we may be allowed such an expression there was a concentration of the cares of Providence on the inhabitants of the ark, since all the other inhabitants of the earth were surrendered to destruction. There con- verged thither, at that crisis, the providential care which was again to expand with the exten- sion of the human and other races over the now desolated earth. But, think of the awful scene from which Noah was thus borne aloft ! For a while, at the beginning, he would hear the sound of it ; the cries of terror and despair from the multi- tude; his own name loudly called upon by voices imploring to be admitted. How ardently desirous then to share the lot of the' man whom they had scorned, and whose God they had defied! But, the door was not his to open; God had closed it. "God shut him in." On some tracts of the earth it is probable that the destruction was comparatively sudden. For, on the supposition of the impetuous breaking forth, through wide openings, from an abyss below, there would be most tremendous tor- NOAH AND THE DELUGE. 421 rents which would drive and sweep with incon- ceivable violence. And it has recently been shown and illustrated in a most striking manner, that there were such torrents, streams of such amazing force as to tear mountain ridges asunder, and drive rocks a vast distance along with them. All would soon be over, as to living existence, in the tracts within the immediate power of such tremendous eruptions and torrents. But many of the great eleva- tions would remain many weeks, and some of them even months, high above the flood, and so would afford ground to multitudes of the doomed and despairing people who could escape thither. But think of them ! seeing, day after day, the dire enemy still rising, still approach- ing, and the while, many of them perishing with famine ! And, it were not in the least an improbable imagination, that in many instances there might break out among them a deadly and infernal frenzy, in which they set upon and destroyed one another, and the survivors de- voured the dead. We imperfectly remember expressing some such idea in a former instance; there is not the least extravagance in it ; it is true to the nature of man, social man, when wicked and reduced to extremity. Within this 422 NOAH AND THE DELUGE. month there has been published an account from Para of a horrible example. The antedi- luvian world had been "filled with violence," we are told ; and there was nothing to extin- guish that spirit on the last summits on which men continued alive. We may well believe, that depravity so extreme as to bring an uni- versal destruction from the Righteous Go- vernor, would continue depravity to the last; and that the final spark of life might go out in fury! At length there was the entire surface of the solid globe without sin! But to think that it could not be so but by being without men! When all was accomplished, the sovereign dic- tate repressed the flood, and gradually sent its tumultuous waters to the dark hiding-place from which he had called them. The ark (in a place probably far off from where it had been built) touched the ground once more, and Noah and his family had to reflect what had been done since it had last touched the ground ! After a confinement of a complete year, he was sum- moned to come forth, with all the beings of which he had been made the guardian so long. When he was delivered from the incessant, complicated cares and toils of this great charge, NOAH AND THE DELUGE. 423 his thoughts would be more free to expatiate in solemn meditation. Where was all he had been accustomed to behold, for six hundred years, and that was around him the last year at this time? The numbers of men the towns the camps the arts, the works, the revels, the crimes, the very face of nature itself? All swept from the creation ! A deserted, desolate planet that had been populous in God's creation! Nothing short of having gone to another world could be so strange. And for SIN this mighty destruction had passed over the world ! How he would depre- cate the return of this dreadful cause with the renewed population, on the new face of the earth ! " As man has expired, oh that sin also might be dead !" And what an awful sentiment he would feel toward the righteous Governor, at such a demonstration that He will be righteous, at whatever cost to any rebellious and unholy part of his creation, that there shall be holi- ness, or there must be vengeance ! And again, Noah might feel a grateful wonder why he, with his family, should have been the one to be divinely preserved from the wickedness of 424 NOAH AND THE DELUGE. mankind, in order to be saved from their de- struction, and to be made the origin of a new race. Would he assume it as a ground of pride? He did well to begin by "building an altar to the Lord," and offering devout sacrifices. But the ark would not that be to him, as long as it remained undecayed, a favourite and peculiarly solemn temple in which to adore the Almighty? It had been built in holy "fear;" it had been built in " faith;" it had answered to his faith; had ful- filled the promise; had been the effectual medium of his temporal salvation. Every sight of it would renew the admonition and conviction that God is true, both in his threat- nings and his promises. And, since his was not a faith of merely temporal reference, but extended to the concern of an infinitely greater salvation, the ark would be a most striking emblem to him of that grand and sole appointed expedient for the exemption of the soul from a more awful destruction the "manifestation of the Son of God in the flesh." To this sovereign refuge was he also "moved by fear ; " fear of a danger transcendently more dreadful than any that could fall from the tempestuous skies, or ascend from "the foun- NOAH AND THE DELUGE. 425 tains of the great deep." And our only effec- tual faith is that in which "moved by fear," we hasten to HIM that is all-sufficient to save, with all the solemn earnestness with which the patriarch applied himself to prepare the ark. LECTUEE XXVI. OUR IGNORANCE OF OUR FUTURE MODE OF EXISTENCE. 1 JOHN iii. 2. It doth not yet appear what tve shall be. IT is the familiar experience of our thinking, that the mind is often led into questions, the pursuit of something not clearly known, and desired to be known. And many of these questions are such as, being pursued, soon lead the thinking spirit to the brink, as it were, of a vast unfathomable gulf. It is arrested, and becomes powerless at the limit; there it stands, looking on a dark immensity; the little light of intellect and knowledge which it brings or kindles, can dart no ray into the mysterious obscurity. Sometimes there seems to be seen, at some unmeasured distance, a glimmering OUR FUTURE MODE OF EXISTENCE. 427 spot of light, but it makes nothing around it visible, and itself vanishes. But often it is one unbounded, unvaried, starless, midnight darkness, without one lu- minous point through infinite space. To this obscurity we are brought in pursuing any one of very many questions of mere speculation and curiosity. But there is one question which combines with the interest of speculation and curiosity an interest incomparably greater, nearer, more affecting, more solemn. It is the simple question "WHAT SHALL WE BE?" How soon it is spoken ! but who shall reply ? Think, how profoundly this question, this mystery, concerns us, and in comparison with this, what are to us all questions of all sciences? What to us all researches into the constitution and laws of material nature ? What all investigations into the history of past ages? What to us the future career of events in the progress of states and empires ? What to us what shall become of this globe itself, or all the mundane system? What WE shall be, we ourselves, is the matter of surpassing and infinite interest ! There is in the contemplation a magnitude, a solemnity, which transcends and overwhelms 428 OUR IGNORANCE OF our utmost faculty of thought. To think that we, who are here, and are thus in possession of an existence which is but as of yesterday, shall continue to be in some mode, and in some scene, of existence, for millions of ages, and that that will still be as nothing, in comparison with what is still to follow ! that a duration passing away beyond all reach of the stupen- dous power of numbers, will still be as nothing ! And that it will still be we ourselves, the very same beings. And that it will be a perfectly specific manner of being with a full conscious- ness of what it is an internal world of thought and emotion a perfect sense of relations to the system in which we shall find ourselves placed ; and this a continual succession of distinct sentiments and experiences, and with the constant certainty of the train going on for ever ! Reflect again, that it is we, ourselves, of whom we are saying this. How overpowered are we in the attempt to realize to thought, what nevertheless will be so ! " I, that am now, that am here, that am thus; what shall I be, and where, and how, when this vast sys- tem of nature shall have passed away ?" What, after ages more than there are leaves, or OUR FUTURE MODE OF EXISTENCE. 429 blades of grass, on the whole surface of this globe, or atoms in its enormous mass, shall have expired? What after another such stupen- dous lapse of duration shall be gone? Those terms, of amazing remoteness, will arrive ; yes, those periods, the very thought of which en- gulfs our faculties, will be come, will be past! And through every step and advance, hi the incalculable succession, on through those pe- riods, the fact of what we then AEE, will be in mighty evidence pressing on all our perceptions, and then still onward, infinitely, eternally be- yond ; and will be definable, in certain terms of a language (shall we call it ?), in which we shall then form or express our conceptions. " I am " but what will follow ? what will the description be? what constitution, what manner, of exist- ence ? what faculties ? how exerted ? what feel- ings ? what employments ? what relations ? what communications? what place? There will be the fact, the actual reality, answering to all these questions. But what it will be, there is but One Intelligence that perfectly knows. But here, even in our own breasts, are the in- telligences that will know, and know in their own experience, the incomparably most in- teresting manner of knowing. 430 OUR IGNORANCE OF And is not this, beyond all others, the sub- ject for deep and solemn musing for intense inquisitiveness for awful wonder? Think again, of what diminutive concern, in comparison, are many of those ambitious in- quiries to reach the Unknown, which have been the most intense excitement to investigating minds. To ascertain, for instance, the yet un- known course of a great river, has excited the invincible ardour of some of the most enter- prising of mortals who, in long succession, have dared all perils, and sacrificed their lives. To force a passage among unknown seas and coasts, in the most frowning and dreadful regions and climates; to penetrate to the dis- covery of the hidden laws, and powers, and relations of nature ; to ascertain the laws, the courses, the magnitudes, the distances, of the heavenly bodies; something is the truth, in all these subjects of ambitious and intent inqui- sition. But what if all this could be known ? If we could have the entire structure of this globe disclosed, to its very centre, to our sight or intelligence; if, through some miraculous intervention of divine power, we could have a vision of the whole economy of one of the re- motest stars; or if (to turn to a different OTJR FUTURE MODE OF EXISTENCE. 431 department,) our intelligence could pass down, under a prophetic illumination, to the end of time in this world, beholding, in continued series, the grand course of the world's affairs and events; what would any or all of these things be, in comparison with the mighty pros- pect of our own eternal existence ? with what is to be revealed upon us, and to be realized in our very being, and experience, through ever- lasting duration ? When we think of such a comparison we may justly indulge some regret and wonder, that very many inquisitive minds, perhaps the far greater number of such, should feel an im- measurably greater degree of curiosity, interest, and even solicitude, in directing their thoughts to the unknown and the future of the inferior subjects of conjecture and anticipation, than to this superlatively important unknown. Not that we would wish to throw any disparage- ment on the conjectural inquisitive excursions of mind on any subject of inquiry. But surely it is a proof of strange perversion in the soul of man, that these eager excursions to penetrate into the remote and obscure, should go on every track rather than on the grand line of its own future existence ! 432 OUR IGNORANCE OF It would not be an adequate nor an honest plea, to allege that the knowledge is beyond our reach. In any matter where we feel a pro- found prospective interest, the thoughts, the imagination, will go that way, by an irresistible attraction. When certain that there is to be something great, and immensely important to ourselves the spirit goes forth towards it, ear- nestly tries to look into the distance eagerly seizes all glimpses, intimations, prognostics revolves the probabilities, the possibilities ex- erts its utmost power of reason, conjecture, in- vention to form to itself an image of what the fact may be. And how prodigiously, how mon- strously strange it were, that there should not be the very utmost of this ardent excitement in the anticipation of what we shall be, hereafter and for ever. This earnest tendency to look forward should be natural and rational, we think, notwithstanding that such darkness rests over the immense interminable scene of our future existence. But still, the question will arise, Why is it so overshadowed with darkness, since it con- cerns us so deeply, since it is ours ? There is something that is ours, which is to be a thou- sand years hence, a million of years hence, a OUR FUTURE MODE OP EXISTENCE. 433 million of ages hence, a million times that and so forward ; it is ours, for it is certain to be, and certain to be inseparable from us. It is to be even ourselves, as absolutely ours as the state we are to be in to-morrow is so ; nay, as much as the state we are in this moment belongs to us. But then, the case being so, why are we so precluded from a foresight which would in some measure enable us to realize, to our apprehension, that future state of our- selves? One obvious thing in answer is, the essential impossibility. Reflect, in the first place, how very imperfectly we comprehend even our present existence, after all manner of experience of it, and intimacy with it. Diminutive as we are, we involve a world of mystery. The acutest, the profoundest investi- gators have been baffled. What is life ? What is soul? What is even body? How combined ? And if we had the means of pur- suing the inquiry into our future state, it may be presumed that every mystery would be aggravated upon us. It is true, that the great "Revealer of secrets" could have told us, by revelation, some things respecting the future state which we might, in some superficial general manner, have understood. For exani- F F 434 OUR IGNORANCE OF pie, whether the disembodied spirit will have a material vehicle? Whether there will be a distinct formal process of judgment on it at death? In what place it shall dwell till the resurrection? Whether it will, during that interval, be apprised of the transactions on this earth? Whether it will have sensible, inti- mate communications with superior spirits? Whether it will have a clearer, vaster mani- festation of the grand scene of the creation? Whether it will have a luminous foresight of what it will become at the resurrection? When, and of what kind, will be the local habitations thereafter? What the employ- ments will chiefly consist of? All this, however, would have reached but a little way, oh how little, into the eternal pro- gression ! even if so far it gave us light. But what we would insist on, is, that all disclosures given of the future state would have been, to us, faint and inefficient information. For, if it had been given in terms merely general, it would have left our conceptions in a state nearly as vague and unsatisfactory as ever, no definite substance ; and, in particular and spe- cific terms it could not have been given, without becoming either unintelligible or de- OUR FUTURE MODE OP EXISTENCE. 435 graded ; for, it must have been given either in terms of very close analogy with our present state, or in terms (if any such could have been found) fitted and true to the nature of a vastly different economy. Suppose the former ; that is, terms and images belonging to our present state, then, the descriptive information would have been degraded. For then, the whole vision, that should have been so grand, would have been brought down towards the level, though not quite to it, of our present notions and state, our modes of life, of habitation, of narrow limited activity, of im- perfect social communication. There would be a servile analogy or resemblance to our manner of relation to place, to surrounding elements, to the modes and sources of pleasure and to our means and instruments of knowledge and power. In short, the whole revealed descrip- tion must have been conformed to the appre- hensions of beings living in these gross bodies, and having all their ideas modified by their bodily senses. But this would be to humiliate, to degrade, the description and theory of a superior state ; and not only would the des- cription be degraded, but it would not be true. On such accounts, a thinking and aspi- F F 2 436 OUR IGNORANCE OF ring mind feels little satisfaction or compla- cency in any of those imaginary particular representations of what the economy of a superior world may be supposed to be (not excepting the excellent Dr. Watts's). There is a recoiling feeling, "That is far too like things as they might be here that is making only a superior terrestial state." "We supposed, on the other hand, the re- vealed specific description of a future state to be given in terms truly appropriate to a quite different and higher economy, and then it would have been unintelligible. But, in truth, the supposition itself is unintelligible and ab- surd. That would be the language of another world. No terms could convey to us a totally different order of ideas ; no human language could do it, and any other would be but the mysterious emblems of eternity bright, indeed, on yonder side, toward heaven, but dark on this, toward us. Such a revelation would be a sun in total and perpetual eclipse. We say, then, that it does not "yet appear what we shall be," plainly because it is im- possible. If we went no further in the inquiry than merely the state immediately after death, the OUR FUTURE MODE OF EXISTENCE. 437 separate state, we can instantly conceive, that when the soul is taken out of this body with all its senses, and therefore out of the whole system of relations with the senses, and all the modes of perception belonging to the senses, it must be in a state of which no specific ideas can be conveyed to us. We may next observe, that even supposing, contrary to all this, that some specific concep- tions of the future state could be, and were, conveyed to us, the effect would not be what we are ready to imagine. We are apt to fancy how mightily and permanently striking and commanding such ideas would be. But no they would become gradually familiarized among our ideas, and lose their extraordinary and, so to speak, extra-mundane quality and power of impression. They must be mingled with our ordinary conceptions, be adverted to in our ordinary language, and would soon cease to be like messengers sent to us from the dead and the world of spirits. A far stronger impression is made on thinking spirits (and on others nothing makes an im- pression), by an undefined magnificence, by a grand and awful mystery, when we are ab- solutely certain that there is a stupendous 438 OUR IGNORANCE OF reality veiled in that mystery ; when quite certain, too, that it relates to ourselves and that it will, at length, be disclosed. Such a grand reality, thus mysteriously veiled, attracts thinking spirits most mightily like the mystic and awful recess in the inmost part of the temple. It keeps in action the inquisitiveness, conjectures, expectation. It sets the mind on imagining the utmost that it can of grandeur and importance; and the idea still is, after the utmost efforts, " It is far greater than even all that ! " And thus, if we will think, this grandeur veiled in darkness has a more powerful effect on the mind, than any distinct particulars made palpable to our apprehension and brought down to our level in order to be made so. So far, then, it is better that it should not "yet appear what we shall be." We may also advert to the common and just observation, that in this life men are placed in this world's relations, a system of relations cor- responding to our inhabiting a gross, frail, mor- tal body, with all its wants and circumstances. And that we have to perform all the various business of this world. That there are innu- merable thoughts, cares, employments, belong- OUR FUTURE MODE OF EXISTENCE. 439 ing inseparably to this our state; and that, therefore, there must not be such a manifesta- tion of the future state as would confound, stop, and break up, this system. It is true, that what we have been saying, nearly amounts to this namely; that no revelation in words, such as we could clearly understand, would so take hold on our minds as to produce any such effect. To produce such an effect, there must, then, be mighty and portentous circumstances and appearances, extraordinary interferences, things to astonish and shake the constitution of our nature ; or else, perfectly extraordinary impressions forced on our minds, to give us intimations, and, as it were, specimens of another state of existence, and produce over- powering emotions concerning it. This could be if God so willed, but this must not be, because it would unfit men for the regular performances of the business of this life. We only add that other plain reason for our being kept in such ignorance of the exact nature of the future state, namely ; that FAITH is to be the grand principle of our feelings and conduct respecting hereafter. We are to be- lieve, to be persuaded, and to act conformably to that persuasion, the whole present system 440 OUR IGNORANCE OF must be consonant with this. And this ap- pointment of faith to be the actuating principle, is partly, as we see, because it cannot be other- wise; and partly because, to be governed by the declarations and will of God is the vital essence of all the obligations of his creatures. But now, will it not be said, that the latter part of these representations does, in effect, contradict the former; that we first make it a reproach to men that they so little direct their thoughts and imagination to a future state, and that, next, we acquit them, by showing the impossibility of forming any clear conceptions of it, if they did so direct their minds ? What is the use, it may be said, of indulging our musings and inquisitive conjectures on the unknown? We answer, it is necessary, when there is such a stupendous reality, for certain, before us, it is evidently a primary duty to think of it, and with deepest interest: and we cannot think of it as one simple, single, in- variable idea. The mind must go, or attempt to go, in some degree, into special modes of conception respecting it. Again, it is an elevating and spiritualizing exercise of the mind. It tends to carry the soul a little way toward its proper region. It OUR FUTURE MODE OP EXISTENCE. 441 tends to lessen the false importance of the things of this world, and to slacken their hold. It contributes to obviate that unnatural and pernicious estrangement and dissociation be- tween our present and future state. It tends to habituate the spirit to seek and find the grand importance of its existence in its here- after. It tends to awake a lively and a sacred curiosity which is surely a right and worthy state of feeling with which to go toward another world, and to go into it. It may help to turn to valuable account the varieties in the present system of our existence the facts in surrounding nature the immediate circum- stances of our own being, by, prompting, on each particular, the thought and the ques- tion, "What, corresponding to this, what in contrariety to this, what, instead of this, may there be in that other world?" It may aid to keep us associated with those who are gone thither. It may give new emphasis to our impression of the evil of sin, and the excellence of all wisdom, holiness, and piety, by, the thought, "What manner of effect is this or this adapted to result in, in that future state?" By this exercise of contemplative anticipa- 442 OUR IGNORANCE OF tion, we may make excellent use of those figures and emblems in which revelation has shadowed out the future state, carrying the thoughts as far as we can from the mere figure, to what would in a higher sense best corre- spond to it. In such an exercise, the particular character of the individual's mind, his taste, his less or greater abstraction in thinking, will, and very properly may, have a leading influence. Many pious minds may love to imagine some- thing very considerably in analogy with the present order of existence, only greatly raised and refined, but never losing sight of the pa- rallel; and this will, no doubt, greatly con- tribute to a distinctness of ideas ; an analogous order of senses and as adapted to them, beau- tiful and sublime scenes, enchanting music of sounds, &c. With others the wish will be to go as far away from resemblance as is possible without going into absolute and impalpable abstraction, into an unrealizable vacuity. And this, we think, is strongly warranted by what is said of the nature of the body which shall be consti- tuted at the resurrection, and by the considera- tion of its immortality. Something widely, immensely different from all that belongs to it OUR FUTURE MODE OF EXISTENCE. 443 now, is surely implied by the assertion that it is to be like " the glorious body" of the Medi- ator. What can we imagine of that body? Far, very far, surely, from any close analogy with tliis earthly structure. Consider it too, as capable of rising to " meet the Lord in the air." Consider, again, that pointed contrast, rather than any parallel, which the apostle ex- hibits in his account of it, a body raised in " glory," in " power," in " incorruption," and to crown all, a " spiritual" body. He displays this body in lofty triumph over the present body. The description gives the full impression of something, not only immensely different, but specifically and essentially different. And then consider the strange, the mysterious circum- stance of its immortality. A bodily structure immortal! adapted to live for ever and ever. Here we are carried away out of all conceivable analogy, as by the whirlwind that took Elijah away. In this its immortality, we are not to suppose the operation of a perpetual miracle, but, that it will be naturally immortal, by the same essential law as the soul is so ; that it will not have, either in its material consistence or its vital organization, any inherent principle of 444 OUR FUTURE MODE OF EXISTENCE. decay. But how confounded is all intellect or fancy, in the attempt to conceive of such a body, or of its senses, parts, or vital action. And if we attempt to imagine a material scenery, and order of elements, corresponding in quality to such a body, how lost are we again! Yet such a representation calls upon us, not to forbear thinking on the mysterious subject, but to aim at thinking sublimely. But after all, and amidst all, our efforts to conceive of the mode of the future existence, it will be well to occupy our contemplations much upon the grand general elements of the future felicity : holiness charity wisdom power immortality enjoyment of the divine presence and benignity. And finally, let no curiosity of high specula- tion beguile us, for a moment, out of recollec- tion of the one mighty difference, of the two grand opposites, in the future state, the con- dition of the redeemed and purified, and the unbelieving and unrighteous ! LECTUKE XXVII. THE CHRISTIAN IDEA OF THE PERFECTI- BILITY OF MAN. 1 CORLNTHIANS xiii. 10. When that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. ONE of the general ideas naturally arising at the repetition of such words would be, that FUTURITY is the greatness of man, and that hereafter is the grand scene for the attainment of the fulness of his existence. When depressed and mortified by a conscious littleness of being, yet feeling emotions and intimations which seem to signify that he should not be little, he may look to futurity and exclaim, " / shall be great yonder T When feeling how little belongs to him, how diminutive and poor his sphere of possession here, he may say, " The immense futurity is mine ! I may be content to be poor 446 THE CHRISTIAN IDEA OP awhile in the prospect of that!" If here ob- scure and even despised, he may reflect, " Well, it is not here that I expect, or want, to verify my importance." If forcibly admonished of the brevity of life, the thought may arise, " Well, the sooner my entrance on a life that shall have no end." Another thing we may observe upon the words is, that it is most gratifying to see the divine revelation connecting the attribute, the condition of perfection, on any terms, in any sense, at any future period, with human nature. It would be gratifying if this were but intimated as a mere possibility; it is most emphatically so, to see it expressed as an assurance a promise. Think of man, the combination of all defects ! Let any con- ceivable excellence be named, and the very mention of it is, in effect, a reproach to him., as not having it, or having it in but a very deficient measure. Whoever does possess the most of any one of them, is deeply lamenting to perceive how partial, how miserably little, the amount is, compared with even far less than perfection. Looking at man, we seem to see a vast collection of little beginnings, attempts, failures; like a plantation on a bleak and THE PERFECTIBILITY OP MAN. 447 blasted heath. And the progress in whatever is valuable and noble, whether in individuals or communities, is so miserably difficult and slow. So that " the perfectibility of man" in the sense in which that phrase has been employed, stands justly ridiculed as one of the follies of philo- sophic romance. Then how delightful is it to see revelation itself, pronouncing as possible, and predicting as to come, something " perfect" in the condition of man. Next observe, that this prediction of some- thing "perfect" to come, relates to knoicledge. This is somewhat surprising. It seems much more easy to conceive of perfection in another state attained or conferred, in any of what may be called the moral attributes, than in know- ledge, even in any moderate and comparative sense. For instance ; perfect rectitude of the actuating principle, the motives ; perfect reve- rence of the Supreme Being ; a perfect spirit of obedience ; perfect " charity ;" or, to say all in one, perfect holiness. These are things of a more simple and absolute nature; qualities to be created and fixed within the being itself; simply a rectification of its own consti- tution and habitude, which we can conceive effected by a single act of the Divine Power. 448 THE CHRISTIAN IDEA OF But knowledge is not a state of the dispositions of the intelligent being, not an intrinsic quality of its nature ; but an intellectual rela- tion which it has with other things, with any thing, with all things, which can come within the sphere of its apprehension. The scope of this relation has no necessary limit ; but is quite indefinite ; and may be amplified through every successive period of duration. All things in the stupendous totality of existence, and even in possibility, are subjects for know- ledge. To hear, then, from the voice of divine truth, a prediction for men, of perfection in knowledge, in any, the most limited, accommo- dated sense, is very marvellous. It is a sublime prospect, contemplated under the most limited sense of the terms which display it to us. Let us attempt, for a few moments, to realize to our imagination such a state of knowledge as our text would imply. The lowest point we can take, in the first place, is the exclusion of error; or, in other words, that all opinion will be truth. The intel- lect must be perfectly rectified in its mode of perception and action; and the objects on which it is employed undeceptively presented to it. So that, if the manner of apprehending THE PERFECTIBILITY OF MAN. 449 be intuition, the objects will be made clearly self-evident. Or, if there be an exercise like reasoning, the evidence will be explicit, and the reasoning process infallible ; so that every thing admitted as knowledge shall be absolutely such. It could not but be in the heavenly state, a painful, a melancholy thing, for the spirit, after exulting in the reception of a portion of know- ledge, to find out that it had been imposed on and deluded; to be beset at each progressive stage, with the suspicion that the apparent advance is perhaps to be trodden back again, a* just so far wrong. So far, then, the knowledge will be "perfect," that nothing delusive and erroneous will be included in what is taken for knowledge. Again ; we may conceive its perfection in this sense namely, that it will be perfectly adequate to the infallible direction of all the activities of the superior state. Those activi- ties we may well believe to be of vast extent and endless variety. But suppose a knowledge competent to them all ; an infallible knowledge, what to do, and when, and by what means ; a perfect knowledge what power the agent has for accomplishing the objects ; a certain fore- sight of the result ; a perfect judgment what G G 450 THE CHRISTIAN IDEA OF is right, what is the best; a perfect under- standing of what is the Divine Will. So that the whole system of action of the immortal beings shall proceed under a luminous intelli- gence, which permits no doubt, or apprehension, or mistake, or failure. The knowledge of the inhabitants of the better world will doubtless be perfect in this sense ; namely that they will possess as much of it as is indispensable to their happiness, and will be sensible that they do so. They will not feel that some of the essential means of their felicity are concealed in the shade which lies beyond the great and illuminated field of their vision. They will not be in the condition of the apostle John, who looked on the sealed book, and " wept" because there was none to open it. On the contrary, each one will be able to say, " I am happy in this light, happy, till the Father of lights shall see good to make me still more so, by opening to me another book yet sealed to expand still further this wide and glorious vision." We may perhaps, assume to add, that these happy beings will possess always as much knowledge, as for the time their faculties are actually capable of admitting there will be THE PERFECTIBILITY OP MAN. 451 "no craving void." So that, as to what they cannot then know, it will not be that it is arbitrarily withheld causing them to say, " If it were but told me if it were but disclosed, I could understand it." This is our case here, there doubtless are a vast number of things kept in the dark from us, which we could understand if they were but declared; and there is sometimes a most restless wish to know them. That knowledge may be called perfect, which shall be so, relatively to the capacity, of the intelligent being. Imagine this, and then imagine a continual sensible enlarge- ment of the capacity itself, and as it enlarges, a continual influx of. new knowledge to fill it. We should take some advantage of the apostle's mode of illustrating, by a contrast between " that which is in part," and that "perfect" which is to come. We may advert to the imperfect, partial nature of our means of knowledge. It is a mysterious thing in the all-wise Creator's economy, that intellectual beings, spirits, should be enclosed in gross matter, and made depen- dent for their action on its organization, but so it is. The senses contained in this material G G 2 452 THE CHRISTIAN IDEA OF frame, the grand inlets of our knowledge, must and do convey it in a most imperfect manner. These, while they are the medium of knowledge, yet keep up an insuperable separation between the mind, the spirit, and the objects desired to be known. Through them it can receive only reports and images of the things. It cannot itself come at the things themselves. How it wishes sometimes that it could ! It longs to know what things are in their own reality. Language, again, is a most imperfect medium for the conveyance of knowledge; it is indeed framed upon our imperfect knowledge, and partaking of all its defects. It is contrived by men to express what they very imperfectly conceive and know, and is full of indistinctness, uncertainty, perplexity, confusion. But " when that which is perfect is come!" it may be said, "What then? What will then be the mode, the medium, the instruments, of our receiving and conveying knowledge ? " We cannot even conjecture, till it do come. But it must be something immensely different, whether or not in analogy with the present means. One almost dislikes to suppose, in that more THE PERFECTIBILITY OF MAN. 453 perfect state, even a resemblance to such feeble things as hearing, seeing, feeling, language. But the sovereign and beneficent Creator, in forming his creature anew in a far nobler condition, will infallibly do it for the best. And if there be to be senses, and any arti- ficial instruments of knowledge analogous to the present, let them be but as much superior to these as a "spiritual body," made like the glorified body of Christ, will be superior to this "earthy," mortal one, and it will suffice. But whatever shall be the means and manner of apprehending, the apprehension must be incomparably more immediate and ultimate than in this world, to satisfy the exalted in- telligence. And that there will be this per- vading intelligence, this intimacy of knowledge, seems to be implied by what the apostle says, " I shall know even as also I am known," that is, by the divine Spirit. So " when that which is part shall be done away, and that which is perfect is come," the manner of knowing shall be an entire, a complete one, as to the means and instruments. (Here note the imperfec- tion of the other great mean of knowledge, reasoning.} Again; how emphatically our present know- 454 THE CHRISTIAN IDEA OF ledge is but "in part," if we advert to the number and extent of the things to be known. It is but a diminutive portion of the grand whole of things, that we can even be so ap- prised of as to be aware that we are ignorant of them. We can think no question at all about them. But take even so much as we are apprised of enough to make subjects of inquiry; and just think, how many can be answered of all the questions we can ask ? To a vast pro- portion of them there is no possible answer at all. To a great majority of the rest, that do not go entirely beyond our sphere, the answer is extremely doubtful. And as to the com- paratively few that we seem to think we can reply to, we find, when we try, that the answer is that of but a very partial knowledge. "When that which is perfect is come," it will not bring an answer to all possible enquiries; that were to extend our knowledge beyond an archangel's compass; but it may well be believed that it will be amazing and delight- ful to see what a multitude of things, of which we had but the faintest glimpses before, are brought into perfect manifestation. What a revelation there may be in two senses; in the vast enlargement of the mind's own proper THE PERFECTIBILITY OF MAX. 455 power of knowing, while it looks from a higher eminence over a wider field; and in the direct disclosures and communications which the Divine Being may beneficently make. His present revelation is the greatest blessing conferred on human intelligence on earth. But how obviously that is but " in part." How many things are not mentioned! how many with but a particle of information! some are presented with an obscure and half- revealed aspect, like the moon sometimes seen with a narrow line of light, and the disc opaque and dimly perceptible. And it would not be a wild imagination, that then there will be a still further new revelation, strictly such, to impart information of what will still be beyond the sphere of knowledge by any other means. And that also to become ultimately an im- mediate knowledge; and then a still further and further revelation; and so forward, inter- minably and for ever ! But all these anticipations remind us but the more forcibly, how we here " know but in part." So " in part," that just the part, the portion which we want to attain is divided off from our reach. It seems as if a dissevering principle, or a dark veil, fell down exactly at 456 THE CHRISTIAN IDEA OF the point where we think we are near upon the knowledge we are pursuing. We reach the essential question of the inquiry; let that be surpassed and we should arrive at the truth exult in the knowledge. But just there we are stopped by something insuperable; and there we stand, like prisoners looking at their im- pregnable wall. So " in part" our knowledge is, that an ex- ceeding weight, we sometimes feel as if a dis- proportionate one, is thrown upon our faith. We cannot understand the case, and yet we must approvingly submit to Him who is the Master of all things; and our obedience must be as ready and unreserved as if we could. But this is a hard exercise for faith. In our partial view, appearances may seem against what we, nevertheless, are required most firmly to be- lieve. It is difficult to maintain this faith, but is happily aided by the divine assurance, that one day we shall know " when that which is perfect is come." So " in part" our knowledge is, that in many things we see far more of the evil than of the good, in the whole state of things, as far as within our comprehension. But we are sure that on the great view, to which we cannot yet THE PERFECTIBILITY OF MAX. 457 attain, there must be a decided predominance of good, in the empire of Him who is infinite in wisdom, power, and goodness. And the antici- pation of clearly seeing it so, is a delightful ra- diance from heaven on our present dark abode. So " in part" our knowledge is, that we can- not agree one with another. The " part" itself is not clear, bright, and infallible, as far as it goes. It contains those shades, perplexities, and equivocal appearances, among which men must greatly differ. It would have been a fine thing if good men, and wise men, could have been unanimous on to the limited extent of this early stage and immaturity of our knowledge, and had not filled the twilight of the great approaching day of wisdom with their contro- versies and their quarrels. But when the " perfect comes," the grand illumination of each spirit will be rendered inconceivably more delightful by the coincidence of judgment which will create a happy sympathy and harmony of the affections. We have no tune to apply these somewhat too vague and general ideas to special subjects. But they might be illustrated hi application to our imperfect knowledge of even our own nature, as in the essential principle of life; 458 THE CHRISTIAN IDEA OF the mysterious connexion of the soul with the body; the nature and operations of that soul itself. How striking to reflect, that we can as yet, just as much comprehend the whole uni- verse as our own little selves, our own selves who are thinking and talking on these subjects. These ideas might also be viewed in their application to the theory of the condition and destination of our race ; the system of divine Providence; the doctrines of religion; the manner of our future existence ; the inquiry, what rational beings, and under what economy, in other realms of the universe; and the uni- verse itself. After such views contemplated, think of the pride of present knowledge ! with a little glim- mering on their spirits there are men that walk the earth with an elation as if they should be gods; and destitute too, as this very pride would show, of that which is the best of the knowledge attainable here ! Consider what a high advantage over us is now attained by our pious friends that are gone even in that less perfect state which inter- venes between the departure hence and the resurrection ! " Then that which is in part shall be done THE PERFECTIBILITY OF MAX. 459 away." Imagine the emerging from this dark world into light! what a dismissal from our spirits, what a vanishing away of the whole systems of our little notions, our childish con- ceptions! If they will be sufficiently recol- lected to be compared with the grand manifest- ation of truth and reality then unveiled, what a contrast ! And yet there will not be an entire contempt thrown upon the retrospect; for it will be understood how those little notions, that feeble light, that partial revelation, were the right training for the infancy and childhood of the human soul. Let us, then, be thankful that we do know, though but in part, and earnestly apply and improve what we are permitted to know. Let us be thankful, too, that one point of that very knowledge is, that its imperfection will at length be left behind. Lastly, if there will be, as none can doubt, in the heavenly state, different degrees in the felicity of the redeemed spirits, and if know- ledge will be one great mean of felicity there, who may be expected to possess the highest attainments of it ? Not necessarily those, even good men, who possessed the most of it here, but rather those who have excelled the most in 460 THE PERFECTIBILITY OF MAN. piety, in devotion to God and Christ, and the cause of heaven in this world. God can, by one great act of his rewarding power, make them the highest in intelligence, and it is reason- able to believe he will. LONDON : J. HADDON, CASTLE STREET, FINSBURY. NEW WORKS PUBLISHED BY JACKSON AND WALFORD. Preparing for Publication. THE CORRESPONDENCE AND SOME OTHER REMAINS OF THE LATE JOHN FOSTER. , WITH A MEMOIR, BY J. ;E. RYLAND, Traiulator of " Neander't Ckurch Hittory," AND NOTICES OF MR. FOSTER AS A PREACHER AND A COMPANION, BY JOHN SHEPPARD. AUTHOR OF " THOUGHTS ON PRIVATE DEVOTION," ETC. I. In 8vo. pi-ice 10. 6d. cloth,. THE DOCTRINE OF ORIGINAL SIN: OR, THE NATIVE STATE AND CHARACTER OF MAN UNFOLDED. BY THE REV. DR. PAYNE, OF EXETER. BEING THE^LEVBNTH SERIES OF THE CONGREGATIONAL LECTURE. II. Second Edition, in FooUcap 8vo. price 6*. cloth. LECTURES BY JOHN FOSTER, DELIVERED AT BROADMBAD CHAPEL, BRISTOL. III. A New Edition, (being the TenthJ in Fooltcap 8vo, price 7fc cloth. THE CONTRIBUTIONS OF Q. Q. BY JANE TAYLOR. IV. In 8vo. price 2s. sewed. A LECTURE OK THE ARGUMENTS FOR CHRISTIAN THEISM, FROM ORGANIZED LIFE AND FOSSIL OSTEOLOGY. Containing Remarks on a work entitled " Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation ;" delivered before the Frome Literary and Scientific Institution, Feb. 7, 1845. By JOHN SHEPPARD, Author of " Thoughts on Private Devo- tion," etc. eminently creditable to the learning and acuteneat,and toth candour and Christian feeling of the writer. To the Lecture, a coniiderable body of pertinent and valuable notes is appended ; and the ri."umrnt in favour of miracle*, at deduced from the B of >p<-cie, i admirably conducted." Brituk Qinrlrrtv Hrri'^ WORKS PUBLISHED BY JACKSON AND WALFORD. In 8vo, price 14*. cloth. AN INQUIRY INTO THE NATURE OF THE SYMBO- LIC INSTITUTIONS OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION, USUALLY CALLED THE SACRAMENTS. Part I., BAPTISM. Being the Tenth Series of the Congregational Lecture. By ROBERT HALLEY, D.D. " Of the Work in its general execution, too strong terms of admiration can scarcely be employed. The apt scholarship ; the scriptural erudition ; the masculine argument which form the marrow of this work, and the generous spirit, copious diction, vivid illustra- tion, and chastened wit which irradiate and enliven its form, place Dr. Halley in the first rank amongst the champions of the faith." Scottish Congregational Magazine. In foolscap 8vo, price 6s. cloth, Second Edition, with aftdl Table of Contents, <&c. THE EXISTENCE OF EVIL SPIRITS PROVED ; AND THEIR AGENCY, PARTICULARLY IN RELATION TO THE HUMAN RACE, EX- PLAINED AND ILLUSTRATED. By WALTER SCOTT, President and Theological Tutor of Airedale College. " We feel no scruple in saying, that, on the whole, we have no iterature so thoroughly good, and so little open to exception. I >e well reflected on by the divinity student." Eclectic Review. Fourth Edition. Foolscap 8vo, price 6s. 6d. cloth. CHRISTIAN ETHICS ; OR, MORAL PHILOSOPHY ON THE PRINCIPLES OK DIVINE REVELATION. By RALPH WARDLAW, D.D. " Dr. W. has conducted his argument with profound theological wisdom, and admirable philosophical acuteness." Christian Guardian. Third Edition. Foolscap 8vo, price 7s. cloth. SCRIPTURE AND GEOLOGY ; OR, THE RELATION BE- TWEEN THE HOLY SCRIPTURES AND SOME PARTS OK GEOLOGICAL SCIENCE. By JOHN PYE SMITH, D.D., F.R.S., F.G.S. " Dr. Pye Smith's volume is written in a strain at once pious and philosophical. He has bestowed much diligence in consulting authorities, and in applying the resources of criticism to the elucidation of scripture ; and to these requisites he has superadded an element, which is often wanting in the writings of those who have attempted this subject a complete practical knowledge of the details of geological science." Anxa.lt and Magazine of Natural History. Second Edition. Royal 12mo, price 7s. Sd. cloth. THE AGE OF GREAT CITIES; OR, MODERN CIVILIZATION VIEWED IN ITS RELATION TO INTELLIGENCE, MORALS, AND RELIGION. By ROBERT VAUGHAN, D D. " Dr. Yaughan is an originalist, and in the best sense of the word. In this work we not only meet with what is new in regard to design, but with what is excellent in point of doctrine and sentiment Learning and research, together with a sustained philosophy and beautiful illustration, characterize the current and wide compass of the deductions." Monthly Review. By the same Awtlior, THE MODERN PULPIT VIEWED IN ITS RELATION TO THE STATE OF SOCIETY. Royal 12mo, price 5s. cloth. Also, by the same Author, CONGREGATIONALISM ; OR, THE POLITY OF INDEPENDENT CHURCHES VIEWED IN ITS RELATION TO THE STATE AND TENDENCIES OK MODERN SOCIETY. Second Edition, enlarged, royal 12mo, price 5s. cloth. WORKS PUBLISHED BY JACKSON AND WALFORD. 3 In 8ro, price 12*. cloth. SERMONS BY THE LATE R. S. McALL, LL.D., Preached in the Ordinary Course of his Ministry, and chiefly at Manchester. With a finely engraved Portrait by Woolnoth. Printed uniformly with, and forming a Third Volume to, " Discourses on Special Occasions." Two Volumes. " It is not often that we find in combination so ranch of intellectual power and v> much of evangelical simplicity and faithfulness as we mark in these discourses. We ought to add. that the interest of the volume is increased by a finely executed portrait of the lamented author." \Tatckman. Second Edition, Enlarged. Foolscap 8vo, price fo. cloth. FOUR DISCOURSES ON THE SACRIFICE AND PRIESTHOOD OF JESUS CHRIST, AND THE ATO.VEME.VT AND RE- DEMPTION THENCE ACCRUING. With Supplementary Notes and Illustrations. By JOHN PYE SMITH, D.D., F.R.S. " This volume should be in the hands of ererv biblical student, as an invaluable critical and bibliographical manual in reference to the topics of primary importance which it embraces." Patriot. By the same Autlurr, THE SCRIPTURE TESTIMONY TO THE MESSIAH ; AN INQUIRY WITH A VIEW TO A SATISFACTORY DETERMINATION or THE DOCTRINE TAUGHT IN THE HOLV SCRIPTURES CONCERNING THE PERSON OP CHRIST. Third Edition. Three Vols. 8vo, price 36s. boards. In Royal V2mo, price 9*. cloth, AN ESSAY ON THE PROFESSION OF PERSONAL RELIGIOUS CONVICTION, AND UPON THE SEPARATION OF CHURCH AWD STATE. CONSIDERED WITH REFERENCE TO THE FULFILMENT OF THAT DUTY. By Professor A. VINET, of Lausanne. Translated from the French by CHARLES THEODORE JONES. " The talent and piety of the author, the deep sincerity which breathes m his work, the prominent notice it has attracted in the foreign churches, and its reputation even in our own country, warrant us in Tiewine it as the most powerful of recent assaults upon national religion." Ckurchmax'i Montkly Rerietc. In Royal I2mo, price Zs. tewed, THE WITCH OF ENDOR, AND OTHER POEMS. By R. A. VAUGBAN, B.A. " In these poems there are evidences of a sound judgment and a command of diction seldom met with in so young an author." Atkenma*. Royal I2mo, price 5t. cloth, A COMPLETE VIEW OF PUSEYISM. Exhibiting from its own Writers, its Twenty-two Tenets ; with a careful Refutation of each, and an Exposure of their Tendencies, &c. " Those who wish to see a complete view of Puseyism, and a concise answer to it heresies, cannot do better than procure this volume." " We have seen nothing eo,ual to it for general circulation." " Let our strong recommendation suffice." Kcleetie Rfrirw. I Four Volumes, IZmo, price 1 4. doth, SKETCHES OF SERMONS, Preached in various Parts of the United Kingdom, and on the European Continent ; famished by their respective Authors, with an Index of Texts, &c. A New Edition, carefully Revised and Corrected, (the Eight Volumes reprinted in Four.) Either volume may be had separately containing 100 sermons, price OC. In Fooltcap 8ro, price 3t. cloth. LECTURES ON TRACTARIAN THEOLOGY. By the Rev. JOHN STOUGHTON, of Kensington. "The Christian minister should be a witness against the errors of his day." Tract, yo. .\\xnu. WORKS PUBLISHED BY JACKSON AND WALFORD. TOorfcs OCfrieflg for tip New Edition, very considerably Enlarged, in \8rno, price Is. 6d. cloth, Uttered. HYMNS FOR INFANT MINDS. By ANN and JANE TAYLOR, Authors of " Original Poems," Rhymes for the Nursery," &c., &c. A New Edition (being the 35th), containing many Hymns never before published. " A well-known little book, entitled, ' Hymns for Infant Minds,' contains (Nos. 14 and 15) a better practical description of Christian humility, and its opposite, than I ever met with in so small a compass. Though very intelligible and touching to a mere child, a man of the most mature understanding, if not quite destitute of the virtue in question, may be the wiser and better for it." Abp.Whately't Essays on Christian Faith, fyc. New Edition (being the WlhJ, in foolscap Svo, with Vignette Title, price 7s. cloth. THE CONTRIBUTIONS OF Q,. Q. By JANE TAYLOR. "A work which cannot be too highly praised; religious precepts, moral lessons, and interesting information, all given in a sound and beautiful form. Another instance of the popularity of good writing this book being in high favour with children. In its present form, this work is, perhaps, not generally known, as it was published in detached portions in the ' Youth's Magazine,' and the parts have only lately been collected. But many a reader is acquainted with ' The Discontented Pendulum,' ' How it Strikes a Stranger,' &c., which appeared in separate pieces, and will be found i various selections of prose reading." Quarterly Review (July, 1844), in an Article on Juvenile Publications. A New Edition, in foolscap Svo, price 5s. cloth, uniform, with the above. MEMOIRS, CORRESPONDENCE, AND POETICAL RE- MAINS OF JANE TAYLOR. " . . . . will delight all readers of sensibility or taste, by the unaffected gracefulness, playful humour, and glow of sentiment, by which they are characterized." Eclectic Revieie. Foolscap Svo, price 2s. 6d. cloth, or is. silk, gilt edges. THE CONVALESCENT : TWELVE LETTERS ON RECOVERING FROM SICKNESS. By Mrs. GILBERT. " Were there not ten cleansed ? but where are the nine ?" Jeiiti. " This is a beautiful book, ' The Convalescent,' by Mrs. Gilbert, which displays tender- ness and holy wisdom in its matter, taste and elegance in its manner, and which could scarcely be spoken of with too much commendation." Z>r. Pye Smith in his Preface to " Wreath for the Tomb." New Stereotype Edition. Price 2d. sewed. ORIGINAL HYMNS FOR SUNDAY SCHOOLS. By ANN and JANE TAYLOR. Square I8mo, price 3d. sewed. SEVEN BLESSINGS FOR LITTLE CHILDREN. By Mrs. GILBERT, Author of " Hymns for Infant Minds," " The Convalescent,"