£Tky of MiScrJg* 
 
 Logical se*^ 
 
 BL 2710 .S747 H66 1844 
 Hooker, Herman, 1802-1865. 
 The philosophy of unbelief 
 in morals and religion, as 
 
RECOMMENDATIONS. 
 
 Nov. 20th, 1843. 
 The publishers have great pleasure in offering to the public, the fol- 
 lowing notices, and extracts from notices, of this work,The Philosophy of 
 Unbelief, (or "Popular Infidelity,") and feel assured, that the well known 
 character of the sources from which they come, will secure for them all 
 the attention and credit which can be desired. 
 
 POPULAR INFIDELITY. By the Rev. Herman Hooker, M. A. 
 
 Vol. 5, Library of Christian Knowledge. 
 
 When, in our first volume, we took notice of the Rev. Mr. Hooker's 
 " Portion of the Soul," we expressed the hope, that, from the golden 
 vein thus opened, we should have other and richer specimens — and we 
 ventured to predict, that, the more it should be worked, the finer would 
 be the ingot. We are proud to record our predictions. In the present 
 volume our most golden dreams are more than realized. It is a book of 
 an age ; and we will say of a better age — " specimen melioris aevi." Ift 
 shall be taken down, in the dark, from the same shelf on which the wri- 
 tings of South, Taylor, Barrow, Boyle, Bates, and How, repose in glory 
 unsurpassed of earth ; and shall be replaced again, when read, by the 
 most ardent lover of them all, as worthy of the high companionship. We 
 know what we have said, and we challenge doubters to the proof. 
 
 It is the object of the author to unmask that secret infidelity of the heart, 
 of which St. Paul gives admonition, in his epistle to the Hebrews — 
 " Take heed, brethren, lest there be in any of you an evil heart of unbe- 
 lief, in departing from the living God" — and he has well accomplished it. 
 His pen seems an Ithuriel's spear, to strip the subtle fraud, which he pur- 
 sues with singular skill, of all its multiplied disguises. His page teems 
 with illustrations, the rarest, the aptest, and the most beautiful, of his 
 important theme. It is impossible, plain as the truths are which he 
 speaks, to be offended with him, from the pure benevolence which is felt 
 to be his prompter ; and, such the vein of keen, but half repressed and 
 silent humour which pervades the book, that, once taken up, it is impos- 
 sible to lay it down until it is finished. We began to mark the passages 
 which, for the thought or the expression, struck us, as we read, by turn- 
 ing down the leaf; and the volume lies before us, increased by half its 
 thickness. To review it, as it deserves, is not within the compass of 
 our craft. Not to commend it to universal notice, would be to do our 
 readers an unpardonable injustice. There was great want of such a 
 book, which, by its engaging character, should tempt men to become ac- 
 quainted with themselves — which should expose the vanity and reck- 
 lessness with which many, " who profess and call themselves Christians," 
 are running the giddy round of self-delusion and srlf-dependence — which 
 should bring home the thoughts of men to God and their own hearts; and 
 
2 RECOMMENDATIONS. 
 
 induce them, in the noise and bustle of this restless age, to commune 
 with themselves, in their own chamber, and be still. Such a book is here 
 furnished— unpretending and artless, yet sagacious, powerful and per- 
 suasive—as fearless as the Baptist, yet with the Evangelist's gentleness 
 and meekness— deep, searching and thorough, yet clear and intelligible 
 to the simplest reader— wearying none with its- minuteness or prolixity, 
 offending none with its abruptness or severity, delightful to all for its 
 ease, its perspicuity and its amenity. — Missionary. 
 
 It would be far exceeding our limits to expatiate on the character of 
 the age, or to show by an analysis of Mr. Hooker's work, how skillfully 
 and eloquently he has aimed to arrest its pernicious tendencies. The 
 "Popular Infidelity" as well as the " Portion of the Soul." is a work emi- 
 nently adapted to the age ; and if we have any fault to find with the au- 
 thor, it is that he does not himself view it in that light; that he writes 
 professedly for a class, instead of challenging attention to the work 
 which he is really accomplishing, of writing for his age, and thus speak- 
 ing in that loftier tone which the reformer is authorised to assume. In- 
 fidelity in its more subtle forms, and such as Mr. Hooker has described, 
 is, we fear, a characteristic of the age ; few pens have revealed more 
 clearly than his its philosophy and impiety, and our only regret is, that 
 he has not brought the actors and the actions of the Christian world side 
 by side with the original which he so vividly conceives, and thus given 
 a popular estimate of their deformity. 
 
 Again, reminding the reader, that the infidelity of which Mr. Hooker 
 treats is to be found not in the outward ranks of avowed unbelievers, 
 but in the inmost recesses of the hearts of professed Christians, we beg 
 leave earnestly to recommend the work to general perusal. It is written' 
 in a pure strain of Christian philosophy, and should find its way to the- 
 closets and affections of all those " who profess and call themselves 
 Christians. — New York Churchman. 
 
 There is an originality in the conception of " Popular Infidelity," an 
 intellectual superiority in the execution to which few books of the pre- 
 sent day can lay claim. 
 
 On the whole we think the treatise on Popular Infidelity one of the 
 best practical works that has appeared for some time ; and we would 
 confidently recommend it to the attention of all who wish to become 
 intimately acquainted with their own character. It is eminently calcu- 
 lated to promote the cause of deep, genuine, and enlightened piety, and 
 will suffer nothing, to say the very least, in a comparison with the pop<- 
 ulai and useful works of Phillip. We have seldom seen a work which 
 so accurately analyses the feelings and principles of the human heart, 
 lays bare the secret springs of human action, and presents^ view one's 
 rral at If. — Episcopal Recorder. 
 
 Popular Infidelity, or Philosophy of Unbelief. By the Rev. 
 Herman Hooker, M. A. — This is the fifth volume of the Library of 
 Christian Knowledge, and is an original work of the accomplished ed- 
 itor of that valuable series. All (-lasses of Christians may find food 
 for reflection in the very important considerations suggested by the au- 
 thor. The work is not, as might besupposed, adefence of the outworks 
 of Christianity against the scepticism of the professed [nfidel. But it is 
 a most able and eloquent attack upon the practical infidelity of professed 
 
THE 
 
 PHILOSOPHY OF UNBELIEF 
 
 IN 
 
 MORALS AND RELIGION, 
 
 AS DISCOVERABLE IN THE FAITH AND CHARACTER 
 OF MEN. 
 
 BY THE REV. HERMAN'HOOKER, M. A. 
 
 There is a peculiar evidence of divine truth which you never see— see what else 
 you will— if you judge of it merely by the intellect ; much less, if the intellect be 
 swayed by adverse affections. But when the repugnance of the heart is overcome, 
 we have this evidence in the substance, the relish of the truth ; we see a conspicu- 
 ous excellency in it, which approves it to the mind, and confirms it by a happy ex- 
 perience of its power and sweetness. ***** It is a most specious deception, 
 that which enables you to disbelieve all you will, with the pretence of faith, and the 
 -colour of believing all you should. 
 
 HARTFORD: 
 S. ANDRUS AND SON. 
 
 1844. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1836, by 
 
 W. Marshall & Co. 
 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Eastern District of 
 
 Pennsylvania. 
 
 iTEREOTYPED BY L. JOHNSON, 
 PHILADELPHIA. 
 
■ 
 TBJBOj 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Numbers live in the neglect of religion, without know- 
 ing or considering the cause of their indifference to it. 
 They profess to receive the Bible as the word of God, 
 and if they do so, their conduct is inexplicable and op- 
 posed to all reason and analogy. There is, therefore, 
 ground for presuming they are in error on this point ; 
 and if they are so, it is indispensable that they should be 
 undeceived, as a first step to a correct understanding 
 of their spiritual condition. This incongruity between 
 the accredited faith and the conduct of men is so com- 
 mon, and in degrees so various, that it is to be feared we 
 are ceasing to regard it as an exception to a general law— 
 as something monstrous in practice — and are satisfying 
 ourselves with the virtue of acknowledging it, or per- 
 haps of declaiming against it, while we take not the 
 trouble to inquire into the reason and enormity of it. 
 
 This inquiry the author has endeavoured to conduct — 
 with good design he knows — with what good effect he 
 leaves for the reader to judge. As the discussion ad 
 vances, much is said, referring to the varieties of human 
 1* 5 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 character, and to the secret operations and tendencies of 
 unbelief, suitable to be reflected on by devout believers, 
 and yet not ultimately, it is thought, impertinent to the 
 steady design of the work. 
 
 Having shown, or presumed, that numbers may justly 
 be denominated infidels, who do not so consider them- 
 selves, and are not generally so considered by others, 
 notice is taken of the confirmation which this view 
 receives from the Scriptures, and of the adaptation of 
 the doctrines of Christianity to the known nature and 
 wants of man, and to the ends which it proposes to 
 effect, and in the accomplishment of which man is made, 
 what he is not and cannot be in any other way, both 
 blessed and deserving to be so. 
 
 The inference, then, which is more or less disclosed 
 in every branch of the subject, is, that if our views of 
 Christianity do not renovate our natures and sway our 
 conduct, it is because they are delusory, the mere allow- 
 ances which an evil heart has made in its own vindica- 
 tion, and in which it loses sight of itself and of God 
 together, while looking as at an image of its own cre- 
 ation, and which it kneels to and worships as having 
 qualities that are in accordance with itself — which yet 
 itself has imparted, or rather are itself again. 
 
 Philadelphia, June 28, 1836. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Vanity of man separate from his immortality — The chances of 
 being finally lost— Plans and hopes of safety— Strange con- 
 trariety of faith and practice— Deep delusion— The art and 
 success of spiritual foes— Infidelity not readily owned— Per- 
 sons chargeable with it in practice— The Reader— His can- 
 dour—His interest in the subject— Its difficulty no discou- 
 ragement • 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Moral character and speculative belief— Man consists of a dou- 
 ble nature, half angel and half beast— Natural process down- 
 ward—Tendency to be less and less spiritual in the affec- 
 tions and the understanding— Views of moral excellence, 
 how acquired— Standard of comparison— Moral attributes of 
 the Deity— Danger of misconceiving them— Proneness to 
 error from the corruption of human nature— From the limited 
 faculties of the mind— A case supposed— Diffidence of our 
 capacity to judge correctly of moral qualities, the truest wis- 
 dom 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Various modes in which human character is disclosed — Preva- 
 lence of hypocrisy — Its tendency to self-deception and infi- 
 delity — Morality of secular men a proof of their infidelity — 
 Devotees of fashion — Dignity of their vocation — Their irreli- 
 gion — Their freedom from the affectation of goodness — Their 
 errors— The best virtues of unconverted men seem not to 
 
 7 
 
 13 
 
 24 
 
S CONTENTS. 
 
 Pago 
 acknowledge a God — They infer the greatest misconception of 
 personal character — They centre in creatures, and afford the 
 clearest evidence of a faithless heart — Peculiar depravity of 
 such persons — Their sinning without a motive — Things 
 which try men's souls — Their complaints and their preten- 
 sions illustrate their infidelity — Their self-importance and 
 misery — Contrast of their reasoning and conduct with the 
 suggestions of faith — Happiness of a mind resting on God.. . 40 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Moral worth of incidental actions and opinions — Their pecu- 
 liarity with reference to the objects of faith — Proper estimate 
 of worldly interests — Singularity of religious indecision — Its 
 contrariety to reason and analogy — Casual devotion — Its ab- 
 surdity — Its action considered as the cause and fruit of infi- 
 delity — All true faith considered as necessarily influential in 
 proportion to the value of its object — Prevalent inattention to 
 the Scriptures — Connexion between faith and knowledge — 
 Infidelity of those who give but a casual attention to religion 
 — Their hope — Their conduct contrasted with their faith and 
 caution in business affairs — Their singular inconsistency — 
 The faith and practice of a nominal believer compared with 
 those of a professed infidel — What there is to choose between 
 them — Religious pretenders — Their liability to self-delusion 
 from the facility with which they gain credit 81 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Error in estimating our own qualities a cause of our miscon- 
 ceiving the divine perfections — Obstacles to correct views of 
 ourselves — Readiness with which men confess the evil of 
 their hearts — Process by which men are reconciled to evil 
 ways — Causes which perpetuate this delusion — Their unob- 
 served operation — Tendency of worldly companions and 
 amusements to foster infidelity — This danger inferred from 
 our mental constitution — Presumption of those who disre- 
 gard it — Delicacy of religious sentiment — Its easy decay — 
 Peril of virtue and faith where the influence of religion is dis- 
 
CONTENTS. 9 
 
 Pago 
 
 couraged — Great changes in moral character occurring with- 
 out our notice — Blindness to the infidelity consequent upon 
 them — Difficulty of breaking from worldly society — Things 
 implied in our attachment to it — The prospect presented to 
 the mind— Worldliness— Practical atheism— Peculiar dan- 
 gers of youth — Whether religion is an easy practice — What 
 is essential to make it so — Its nature — Its requisitions agree- 
 able to the truest philosophy 113 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Want of self-knowledge a cause of error in religion — Self-love 
 — Examples of its deceptive operation — Its opposition to cor- 
 rect views of truth — Perils of the state to which it carries the 
 m i n( l — Difficulty of understanding this state, and of escaping 
 from it — Errors that grow out of it — Its incompatibility with 
 moral improvement — Two weighty inferences — Sense of 
 guilt always slight in habitual sins — Great sins rendered sin- 
 less in our eyes by a continuance in them — Secret sins — The 
 peculiar danger of them — Their effect on the moral percep- 
 tions — The false security and infidelity which insensibly 
 spring from them — The folly of deciding on our character 
 from the opinion of others — Deceptive appearances — Prayer 
 of a Roman worshipper — Great inconsistencies in practice — 
 Instruction drawn from the conduct of the thief and the rob- 
 ber — The moral decency of their example compared with 
 that of others — Effect of sinning on the judgment — Errors in 
 one respect leading to error in all others — Reflections 139 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Influence of character on belief — Direct application of the rea- 
 soning in the preceding chapter — Analogies between what 
 men think of themselves and what they think of others — 
 These considered as the cause and proof of infidelity — Indif- 
 ference of men to religion not accidental, but the result of 
 settled opinions — Mental processes by which these opinions 
 are acquired — The deductions of sense taken for those of rea- 
 son — Reason held in the service of sense — Singular love of 
 
10 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 the world — Our own depravity approved when it goes to 
 excess in one direction, yet hated under other and lower ma- 
 nifestations — Idolatry — Analogy of its forms to human cha- 
 racter — Condition of the heart — Its changes great, yet imper- 
 ceptible — Nature, not counsel, taken for a guide in spiritual 
 perplexity — Its inventions — Its resentment of the truth — Its 
 proneness to clothe God in its own likeness — Spiritual idol- 
 atry — Analogies bearing on the general subject — True basis 
 of practical infidelity 170 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Singularities in human conduct — Importance of knowing our- 
 selves — Proneness to possess God with our own likeness — 
 Causes of delusion in our judgment of him — Application of 
 the subject to the reader — Reasons for distrusting his own 
 opinions shown by various analogies — Continued argument 
 with him — Separate responsibility of the head and heart — 
 Peculiar evidence of divine truth — Difficulties in the way of 
 believing — When they are insuperable — How overcome — 
 Misconceptions of the gospel — Necessity of divine grace — 
 Questions and troubles about human ability considered — Of- 
 fice and sacrifice of Christ, how estimated — Characteristics 
 of the times — Needful despair — Proofs of infidelity 207 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Man treated as a rational being in all the divine dispensations — 
 No mysteries of feeling in regard to the doctrines of grace — 
 Reason a competent judge of things necessary to salvation — 
 Hinderances to its right exercise — Our difficulty with religion 
 our fault — Contrariety of the sentiments and practice of 
 Christ to human nature a ground of unbelief — Our incapa- 
 city to comprehend and believe the gospel — How acquired — 
 How to be removed — Divine grace attainable when truly 
 desired — Acts of holy obedience free and rational — Dispensa- 
 tions of grace encouraging in every scriptural view of them — 
 Power of truth — Misconceptions of it the same thing as infi- 
 delity — Testimony of the Scriptures — Striking guilt of sin- 
 ners in likening God to themselves 236 
 
CONTENTS. 11 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Page 
 
 Inferences growing out of or consistent with the principles of 
 the preceding discussion — Doctrines of religion viewed in 
 relation to our spiritual necessities — Mode of justification — 
 Due esteem of divine grace — Operation of faith — Its effects 
 rational — Agency of the Spirit — His fruits contrasted with 
 the works of the flesh — Just deductions of reason — Contra- 
 riety of Christianity to our corrupt nature a proof of its divine 
 origin — Reason competent to judge of this — The assistance 
 it gives to faith — Obligation it imposes on us to believe 
 strongly — Justness of our thoughts of God depending on the 
 purity of our hearts — Conceptions of holy men contrasted 
 with those of the wicked — Necessity of a light that tries and 
 purifies 260 
 

 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Vanity of man separate from his immortality— The chances of being 
 finally lost-Plans and hopes of safety-Strange contrariety of 
 faith and practice-Deep delusion— The art and success of spi- 
 ritual foes-Infidelity not readily owned-Persons chargeable 
 with it in practice-The Reader-His candour-His interest in 
 the subject— Its difficulty no discouragement. 
 
 The transient nature of his existence, as well as 
 the little he can know and do at best, stamps an in- 
 expressible meanness on man, if we contemplate him 
 aside from the hope of immortality. But regarding 
 him as destined to live beyond the present scene, to 
 live in bliss or wo, in glory or dishonour, according 
 to the character of his agency here, every thing about 
 him seems important. Indeed, the danger is, that 
 our respect for him as a being of this high destiny, 
 may hinder our being duly shocked with his de- 
 generacy, when he voluntarily forsakes the end of 
 
 13 
 
14 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 his existence, and assumes a character, which, had it 
 been his by creation, would only awaken surprise 
 and distrust of the wisdom of his Creator. We 
 should, in that case, see nothing in it for admiration, 
 but every thing for wonder and dissatisfaction. But, 
 mean as it would then appear, we now seem to be 
 little offended that the multitude live as without 
 knowledge or concern for their immortality. The 
 hope they have of living for ever, and of answering 
 ends suitable to so noble a design, serves, it may 
 be, to raise them in their own estimation, but has no 
 control over their pursuits ; and looking to their im- 
 providence and their passion for sensible things, we 
 see little prospect of their recovery to spiritual life. 
 This, however, is not the worst of their condition. 
 They have lost all right perceptions of their own 
 character and of the objects which they must under- 
 stand and love as the appointed means of renewal, 
 and yet follow their convictions, such as they are, 
 without doubting that they are right; so that the 
 chief danger that they will fall short of their calling, 
 seems to arise from their disposition Ho order their 
 own steps,' and to confide in their own views, with- 
 out making due allowance for their nature and its 
 proneness to misconception. 
 
 Almost every one has a plan or hope of being 
 saved, which supposes his character to be very 
 
TOPULAR INFIDELITY. 15 
 
 different from what it really is. We never find 
 any one living in the quiet expectation of being 
 for ever depraved and miserable, but the great 
 majority are living quietly in a practice that tends 
 directly and strongly to this result. They continue 
 in a practice which they pretend not to justify 
 as innocent, and can hardly be said to consider 
 as sinful, yet a practice which has confessedly 
 deceived thousands, and in which thousands have 
 confessedly perished. Still, they apprehend no evil, 
 and cherish a secret expectation that all is to turn 
 out well with them in the end. They have no idea 
 of things as they are; they judge not of themselves 
 as of others ; they are in a deep sleep, and the most 
 that can often be done, is to keep them wakeful 
 enough for worldly dreams; and did they but think 
 them dreams, they would soon perceive themselves 
 poor and destitute, without any reasonable concern 
 or action for relief. But they do not so think ; the 
 god of this world surrounds them with a false efful- 
 gence, which confuses their vision, and gives a decep- 
 tive appearance to every object, and the true light 
 which clears the reason and the affections ' shines 
 not unto them.' Like some creatures we know, 
 they seem to see best through a medium which is 
 dark to nobler beings, and that object which should 
 give light and joy is without glory to them, lulling 
 
16 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 them to slumber, and justly making them a spectacle 
 and wonder to all others. 
 
 But the rest they have, is but a sleeping storm; the 
 security they feel, is but blindness to danger; the 
 freedom they claim, is but a slavery grown easy and 
 natural to them ; the victory they are ready to arro- 
 gate to themselves, is but the triumph of their foes, 
 in which they are permitted to participate, only to 
 complete it. Their prison and chains are not fully 
 prepared, and they are encouraged to assume the 
 honours and the airs of victors, only to finish the 
 deception, and to make them the more loyal to their 
 masters. Thus their spiritual enemies improve 
 every advantage, while they make no resistance, and 
 have no warfare as they view it. They have served 
 Satan so well that his service is freedom, and no 
 stoop for them, so long as they are not required to 
 call him master; and, as it is his service, not his title, 
 which he wishes them to own, they have no disa- 
 greement. Power of darkness and delusion, he first 
 darkens the mind to delude it, and then perpetuates 
 the spell by setting it off for a fancy-piece of light, 
 flattering the subject of it with marks of reason and 
 excellence, which he indulges him to call his own. 
 
 Nothing short of the prevalence of some delusion, 
 deeper and more influential than men are generally 
 aware of, is sufficient to account for this indifference 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 17 
 
 to spiritual concerns. Writers may ascribe it to 
 infidelity, but the bare evidence of the Christian 
 system does not affect it: that system is professedly 
 believed by the generality of those who manifest 
 this indifference. They disclaim infidelity as a 
 crime, as a baseless fabric, and are shocked at the 
 bare name of' it as applied to them. Indeed, if you 
 could persuade them that they are infidels, they 
 would not feel safe for a moment, and their first 
 inquiry would not be for truth and evidence, but for 
 a way of escape from guilt. But they have always 
 had a respect for the Bible as an inspired book ; the 
 existence of a Supreme Being, with such attributes 
 and purposes as it ascribes to him, they have never 
 doubted : and they are not now to be convicted of 
 infidelity. That they have not a saving belief of 
 these truths they admit; but then they have such a 
 belief as they deem respectful to them, and likely to 
 lead on to it. They might, perhaps, be convinced 
 that they have not such a belief as deters them from 
 sins and crimes which set God and his word at 
 defiance ; still they insist that it is a belief. It ap- 
 pears to have little or no influence on their practice, 
 still they regard it as a very important affair, and 
 would not part with it on any account. They ac- 
 knowledge their accountability and sinfulness, and, 
 though sinning daily, claim that they are less daring, 
 2* 
 
13 POPULAR INFIDELIT1*. 
 
 and more innocent and respectful, than those who 
 deny both. They have the happy way of resolving 
 the matter so that they keep the thing, and shun the 
 name of it. It is satisfactory to them, not that it 
 has any reason in it; not that it proves any superior 
 goodness in them; not indeed that it restrains them 
 from any iniquity; but that it tallies with their 
 household notions and conceptions of the beauty of 
 faith, and the deformity of its opposite. 
 
 There are two sorts of virtuous, not pious, people, 
 which deserve some designation; — those, who, from 
 a natural delicacy of their physical and mental struc- 
 ture, run virtuously without a principle of action, or 
 a rule of judgment, exhibiting the most attractive 
 graces of thought and feeling, responding to every 
 call of sympathy and regard, and bearing the richest 
 fruits, which yet are as ' apples of gold in pictures 
 of silver ' merely representations of the beautiful 
 reality: — and those, who, without any uncommon 
 advantage of nature, or exemption from temptation, 
 have preserved a certain health and harmony of ex- 
 ercise in their moral powers, and kept themselves 
 within the attraction of virtue, its colours not greatly 
 changing in their view, arid they, though captives to 
 the powers of the present world, yet retaining some 
 freedom of the spirit, and dwelling in a kind of mid- 
 heaven, whence they look down with a conscious- 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 19 
 
 ness of superiority to the rest of their species as 
 needful to sustain them in their elevation, as it is 
 indicative of their imperfection. Thus it is possible 
 so to yield the heart to the claims of justice and 
 humanity, and so to occupy the mind with ennobling 
 objects and investigations, as to preserve, in a com- 
 mendable degree, the freshness of the moral feelings. 
 But this is all a night-growth, liable to perish in the 
 morning; a painted edifice, outwardly new and beau- 
 tiful, while its timber is struck with decay, and will 
 bend and break with the storm. A discarding of 
 God and his counsel, self-reliance, self-aggrandize- 
 ment, atheism, is the life of the structure: it is the 
 heart which conveys vigour to all its living extremes. 
 It was never reared, and it can never subsist, with- 
 out the service of pride, vanity, a love of promotion, 
 and the praise of men; and these do not more cor- 
 rupt than enfeeble every thing they fashion and 
 control. They have no part in the ' workmanship' 
 of God: 1 they do not so much as seek his aid, or 
 acknowledge him in any of their doings. 
 
 These remarks may serve to characterize great 
 numbers who would start at the charge of infidelity; 
 who value themselves for virtues, which, on a close 
 inspection, appear to infer a want of faith; who, to 
 say the least, live in the habitual neglect of religion, 
 1 Eph. ii. 10, good men are called his ' workmanship.' 
 
20 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 without knowing or considering the ground of their 
 indifference to it. These points will, in course, be 
 the subject of investigation. 
 
 We can presume on no ability to do justice to our 
 conceptions of the subject upon which we are enter- 
 ing; much less, that we entertain conceptions wor- 
 thy of its importance. But if we be able in any 
 measure to clear the way of the reader, and start 
 such trains of thought as, when pursued out and 
 applied with the faithfulness of an honest inquirer, 
 shall reconcile him to a just view of his condition, 
 we shall have no fear that he will consider his time 
 ill spent, though the chief advantage he gains should 
 in justice be accredited to himself. More than this; 
 if he shall allow to us the credit of an interest in his 
 welfare, and deem that the amiable, and a sense of 
 duty the graver, reason of our inquiries, we will 
 not be so injurious to the courtesy of such judgment, 
 as to suspect that slight disappointments may deter 
 him from pursuing them, while there is a possibility 
 of attaining the good they propose. 
 
 If he has duly considered what others are, though 
 he has not so duly considered what he is, he will 
 not forget that he is of the same nature with them; 
 nor will it appear a thing incredible that he should 
 be convicted of faults and errors in his estimate of 
 himself, which, if they be more refined and less 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 21 
 
 palpable, are not less destructive than those he sees 
 in others. Indeed, should he prove to be gravely 
 criminal, he will not think any previous suspicion of 
 it an impertinence, or consider himself as wronged by 
 conviction, but only favoured with a discovery which 
 candour and interest oblige him to welcome as the 
 dawning of 8 better mind, a coming to himself 
 which not more necessarily precedes all right rea- 
 soning than all spiritual excellence; — from which last 
 he may have gone so far, that the loss itself is not 
 mourned, while the miseries of it are vainly felt and 
 deplored. It would be an unjustifiable aspersion, 
 if he be known to be even well affected towards 
 himself, to suppose he would quarrel with a truth, 
 or shut his eyes to the evidence of it, when it could 
 be improved to his own exaltation, and to the fur- 
 therance of his Creator's will. We would be too 
 jealous of the honour of our nature, claiming nothing 
 for its goodness, to presume him thus destitute of all 
 decency of regard for himself, and for the divine 
 authority and wisdom. But if we grant him to be 
 of a considering humour, not ready to break with 
 his Maker for eternity, not doubting his justice, his 
 goodness, his absolute perfection, and still, not seeing 
 them as realities, not affected by what he believes, 
 or rather, is apprehensive of, — it is not too much to 
 expect, it is the lcost that can with civility be looked 
 
22 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 for, that he will see he cannot with any show of 
 reason vindicate his continuance in a state wherein 
 he blushes to own himself either the friend or the 
 foe of God, but wishes to be ranked as standing on 
 anomalous and neutral ground; for this would be but a 
 nonsuit of his claims to any other than a brute import- 
 ance, since it is only when we are without reason 
 that we can be without character. We may think 
 we feel indifferent to an object, but if that object be 
 one of incomparable perfection and interest, it must 
 have claims upon our highest regard, and, when 
 these claims are enforced to the exclusion of all 
 inferior objects which we have chosen in its place, 
 it will be found, that not to have loved this the 
 noblest and best of all, is not a mere worthless indif- 
 ference, but the cherishing of the elements of an 
 unappeasable enmity to it. It is not more clearly 
 a part of the great design of the universe that all 
 bodies should tend to a common centre, than it is 
 the chief design of rational creatures that they should 
 tend with strongest affection to the greatest and 
 most worthy object of such regard; nor is this law 
 of the material system more needful and proper to 
 its destined action, than that of spirits to their safe 
 and rational action, while both alike are allowed to 
 attract smaller objects, and to feel their attraction, 
 yet only as parts of a whole, and in pursuance of this 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 23 
 
 their chiefest end. Why, therefore, one is not in 
 love with this object, but goes counter to the ordi- 
 nance of his nature, as well as to the claims and 
 commands of Him whose claims could not be greater 
 nor his commands more reasonable, and whose wills 
 concerning us, expressing both his perfection and 
 intending ours, may be summed up in one, 'be ye 
 perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is 
 perfect,' enjoining on us his likeness in order to 
 our participating in his felicity, — is a question that 
 may reasonably claim his first attention; and which, 
 now that he deems it an unjustifiable reflection upon 
 his faith, to infer that he denies its importance, he 
 should be presumed to approach with candour and 
 self-distrust, and as caring less to obtain that which 
 he cannot keep, than to possess himself of that good 
 which he knows he cannot lose. 
 
24 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Moral character and speculative belief — Man consists of a double 
 nature, half angel and half beast — Natural process downward — 
 Tendency to be less and less spiritual in the affections and the 
 understanding — Views of moral excellence, how acquired — Stand- 
 ard of comparison — Moral attributes of the Deity — Danger of 
 misconceiving them — Proneness to error from the corruption of 
 human nature — From the limited faculties of the mind — A case 
 supposed — Diffidence of our capacity to judge correctly of mora 
 qualities, the truest wisdom. 
 
 It was stated in the outset, that the great danger 
 of our losing the chief and only durable good arose 
 principally from a too great trust in our own judg- 
 ment of spiritual things, without duly considering 
 the influence of our corrupt nature upon the per- 
 ceptions and decisions of the mind. The operation 
 of moral character upon speculative belief, though 
 difficult to detect in particular cases, is yet in some 
 measure understood and admitted by all. Both our 
 sensibility to moral qualities and our perception of 
 them may change and decay from neglect, or be 
 choked and overrun by the growth of other and 
 opposing principles. " Man, as he consists of a 
 double nature, ' flesh and spirit,' so is he placed in 
 a middle rank, betwixt an angel, which is a spirit, 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 25 
 
 and a beast, which is flesh; partaking of the qualities 
 and performing the acts of both. He is angelical in 
 his understanding, in his sensual affections bestial; 
 and to which of these he most inclineth and con- 
 formeth himself, that part wins more of the other, 
 and gives a denomination to him: so as he, that was 
 before half angel and half beast, if he be drowned in 
 sensuality, hath lost the angel, and is become a beast; 
 if he be wholly taken up with heavenly meditations, 
 he hath quit the beast, and is improved angelical. 
 It is hard to hold an equal temper; either he must 
 degenerate into a beast, or be advanced to an angel. 
 Mere reason sufficiently apprehends the difference 
 of the condition." 1 It will not, perhaps, be doubted, 
 it is so evident that it will not here be reasoned, that 
 the process in every man is naturally downward, to 
 the gratification of his inferior nature, and to the 
 love and pursuit of sensible things. As the conse- 
 quence of this, it is equally evident that he does not 
 see either the objects of sense or those of faith in 
 their true character. He is in the case of the blind 
 man, who, when asked if he saw aught, was sure he 
 saw something, which yet was not a proper sight, 
 for he saw ' men as trees.' He sees wealth, beauty, 
 and honour; but it is not a proper sight, because he 
 sees not all about them; he sees them not as a snare, 
 
 1 Bishop Hall's < Select Thoughts,' No. Ixii. 
 3 
 
26 POPULAR INFIDELITY, 
 
 and does not sanely estimate their use to him. He 
 sees the pleasures and enticements of sense; yet it is- 
 a question whether he sees them or no, because he 
 sees them only as harmless and desirable: there is 
 no reason in the sight He sees all temporal goods; 
 but we can hardly say whether he has a sight of 
 them or no, because he sees them not as they are; 
 he sees them 'as trees walking;' he does not see the 
 reason and beauty of them; he does not see them as 
 beams and proofs of that perfection of them, which 
 is reserved as i glory to be revealed.' But, becoming 
 less and less spiritual in his affections and under- 
 standing, the derangement in his sight of spiritual 
 objects must be still greater. What was lovely and 
 tasteful in moral excellence gradually disappears, 
 and the very virtues comprised in it are for the 
 most part mean and spiritless in his view: still, he 
 reasons about them, and fully confides in his own 
 decisions. He never doubts the soundness of his 
 views, but there is an inconsistency between them 
 and his feelings and conduct, which does not appear 
 with regard to any other subject. If we can 'find 
 the cause of this, all difficulty will vanish, and we 
 shall be able to account for much, in the practice of 
 men, which seems not to be compatible with any just 
 appreciatiun of their own welfare, or of the charac- 
 ter of God; much, which is precisely as, we should 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 27 
 
 suppose it would be, if the light that is in them were 
 indeed darkness. 
 
 We would not be understood to deny that men 
 may have views of moral excellence much purer 
 than their practice; but it is certain that their moral 
 character does more or less modify their views, and, 
 in this way, involve them in most dangerous errors. 
 This truth may be discerned in the very process by 
 which we arrive at a judgment of moral qualities. 
 Our nearest approaches to the discovery of the ex- 
 cellence of any object are made by comparing it 
 with other objects, which are more or less excellent. 
 In such a comparison, its advantage, or disadvantage, 
 is the more visible, for the brightness or obscurity 
 of those with which it is contrasted. Who, for 
 instance, can discover a single colour on a fabric in 
 which all colours are intermingled ? Who can have 
 any proper ideas of degrees in benevolent actions, 
 unless he has had, or witnessed in others, an exer- 
 cise of malevolence? Who can declare one counte- 
 nance more beautiful than another, if he has not in 
 his mind some standard of comeliness, with which 
 to compare it ? It is thus evident that we must 
 form our judgment of the distinctive excellence of 
 objects, by the process of comparison. 
 
 Let us, now, consider the probable effects of this 
 process upon our notions of the moral attributes 
 
28 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 of God. These attributes must be designated by- 
 words, commonly used and understood. Is he holy, 
 just, and good ? If these terms are not understood 
 in their application to the character of men, we shall 
 understand them as little, when they are applied to 
 God. Our notions of what is just or good in man 
 will enter into all our reasonings, and form the basis 
 of our thoughts concerning what is just or good in 
 God. The same is true of all his moral attributes. 
 They exist in him without defects; in man, with the 
 blemishes of imperfection and guilt, and as dim sha- 
 dows and uncertain semblances of the divine reality. 
 But the dimness and the uncertainty are all his own: 
 nothing can be laid to the charge of God; he made 
 man in his own image; the fountains of his being 
 were all pure and his sight was perfect, till he cor- 
 rupted them and chose his darkness, and now that 
 abundant light is come, and a new way opened for 
 his recovery of this blessedness, he is held fully 
 responsible for the errors of his judgment. But 
 while he remains in his darkness, and has not the 
 relish of his blessedness, what errors may he not 
 commit, associated as he is with beings of universal 
 and acknowledged imperfection — himself naturally 
 as imperfect, as the greatest profligate he beholds. 
 We will suppose him called to contemplate the 
 moral perfections of God, and that they are designated, 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 2f) 
 
 as they must be, by terms, the import of which he 
 has learned from their usage among men, as applied 
 to themselves. In proportion as the acts or qualities 
 in himself and others which are called just and 
 good, are imperfect, will not his notions of God, 
 formed according to the use of language in refer- 
 ence to such acts or qualities, be inadequate and 
 unworthy? If he believes, and doubtless he does, 
 that he is as good as any around him, and, although 
 imperfect in all his moral exercises, regards himself 
 with complacency, upon what principles shall we 
 conclude, that he will be likely to entertain, in these 
 respects, higher views of God than of himself ? 
 
 We have thus far considered the effects of this 
 process, as if man had no temptations or promptings 
 to reason otherwise than honestly and impartially 
 on the subject, and on this admission, we see no 
 ground for inferring that his conclusions will be safe 
 •and correct. But when we come to make proper 
 •allowance for his self-love, his ignorance, his pas- 
 sions, his false interests, there is no chance that he 
 will be either impartial or correct in his judgment. 
 If he forms and cherishes higher views of the divine 
 excellence than of his own, he must be dissatisfied 
 with himself, and that is disagreeable to nature; he 
 must also live in perpetual fear of the divine displea- 
 sure, and we commonly see no evidence of this in his 
 
30 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 conduct. The wickedest men are often the most 
 self-complacent and fearless, and they must either 
 not think at all on this subject, or think to no pur- 
 pose. Their passions have become such reasoners, 
 that they justify their own indulgence. An argument 
 in favour of a chosen error, which would once have put 
 them on their guard as being fallacious, is now sound 
 and convincing; and, as they falsely estimate their 
 interests, it would be the happiest, the best con- 
 trivance in the world, if they could have every thing 
 in their pleasures and pursuits as it now is, without 
 disappointments, and with the approbation of God. 
 If they could have the matter thus, depraved and 
 unthankful as they are, they would have no self- 
 reproaches, and no more shame than an angel that 
 has never sinned. They would eat, drink, and in- 
 dulge themselves, without a thought of God; they 
 would think of any thing more than him, and indeed, 
 he can gain their attention now, only by his terrors. 
 He lays his hand upon them, and they tremble and 
 look up, but no sooner is it removed and the shock 
 past, than he is forgotten. This shows what they 
 think of sin, and what bright reasoners they must 
 be on moral excellence. Their passions, and inte- 
 rests as they understand them, are in direct conflict 
 with just views of the character of God, and to sup- 
 pose that they will judge impartially in this case, is 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 31 
 
 to give them credit for a disinterestedness which 
 they never show in any other, and which, therefore, 
 it is irrational to expect they will show in this. 
 
 Their ignorance also renders them incompetent 
 judges of the right or wrong of the divine proceed- 
 ings. But they never think of this; they try them 
 by their own standard of what is right and proper, 
 with as much confidence as they would, if they 
 knew every thing. This is a fruitful source of error, 
 and of disaffection towards the character of God. 
 According to this rule many events appear to them 
 unjust or cruel, and such as they confidently believe 
 they should not have permitted, had they possessed 
 the control of them. In this way, they easily rise 
 in the esteem of their own character; they impute 
 faults to God which they do not discover in them- 
 selves, and turn his counsellors and reprovers, when- 
 ever any thing crosses their wishes. What ought 
 we to suppose such men think of God, especially 
 when it is no secret what they think of themselves ? 
 Is it any wonder that they are not alarmed at their 
 condition? Do they believe in the true God, or 
 have they created, fancied one, who needs their 
 advice, or, at least, is in favour with their desires ? 
 
 From the limited nature of his faculties, it is 
 also clear that he, who does not submit his heart and 
 understanding to the will of God, in full reliance 
 
32 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 upon the wisdom and equity of all his dispensations, 
 will sometimes fall into the greatest errors, and the 
 most confident questioning of the perfections of God. 
 Suppose he witnesses a good action — one that is a 
 certain duty in the instance before him, which, how- 
 ever, in a little time, is found to have operated, in a 
 way that could not be foreseen, injuriously to inte- 
 rests more extensive and important than those which 
 it immediately promoted, he cannot still doubt that 
 the action was good, and it might have been good 
 so far as the design of the agent is to be considered; 
 he regarded it at the time so clearly a duty, that 
 the neglect of it would have been thought proof of 
 great imperfection, and, if it be supposed that an 
 Omniscient Being, seeing all effects in their causes, 
 would not have performed such an act, he would, 
 certainly, have been thought imperfect and criminal. 
 Independent, then, of any influence from association 
 with depraved beings, if he has not that confidence 
 in God which constrains him to believe that what 
 he does, though it be apparently evil and injurious, is 
 yet necessarily wise and good, he will often charge 
 him with folly, and refuse submission to his will. 
 
 When, therefore, we connect the ignorance of 
 man with his estrangement from God, whose 
 ways, according to the rule by which so ignorant a 
 being determines what is good, will often appear to 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 33 
 
 be evil, and consider also, that he is associated with 
 beings as depraved as himself, whose virtues consti- 
 tute a medium of deceitful and tarnished lustre with 
 which he is prone to clothe all invisible agents, can 
 we believe that he will form correct opinions of the 
 moral attributes of God ? Is it reasonable to suppose 
 that he will have just ideas; will so abstract himself 
 from the imperfection that is in, and around, him, as 
 to have vivid and pure conceptions of attributes of 
 which he can have no notion, except as he compares 
 them with such feelings within him as correspond to 
 their nature, and with such shadows of them as are 
 fleeting before him? If he could not learn the 
 height and dimensions, the beauty and costliness of 
 a temple, the like of which he had never seen, from 
 surveying its ruins ; if he could not conceive pro- 
 perly of the splendour of the sun, from observing 
 the moon which reflects his light so dimly, that, 
 with all the aid of surrounding stars, it is night when 
 he is absent, how shall he judge of that 'excellent 
 glory' which comprises and excels all others, by the 
 blemished and dying lights within him — by the dust 
 that remains, but scarcely glitters, amidst, the ashes 
 of the ruin in which he is involved ? What image 
 will he frame from the materials before him ? He 
 hears not the voice of God, and no cloud, no symbol 
 of his presence and glory, rests upon the mountains. 
 
34 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 Will he think of a 'golden calf/ or will he bow to 
 stocks and stones? He might do so, if education 
 and custom had not taught him better. He must 
 now have a more refined and specious idolatry; he 
 must have in speculation and profession what he 
 calls the true God ; but in heart, in worship, he will 
 have images without number, if they may be with- 
 out name. Even as he estimates the character of 
 God, he makes him an image, a being not such as he 
 is, but such as he would have him. If unrestrained 
 by prevailing modes of belief and expression, and 
 unassisted by divine revelation, he would conceive 
 of God as loving what he loves; as hating what he 
 hates; and as possessed of such virtues, and only 
 such, as he possesses. Having never seen a being 
 of sweater excellence than himself, he would form 
 all who are invisible, in his own image, and think 
 of them only as propitious to his own cherished 
 gratifications. This process of an evil heart, by 
 which it likens all things to itself; this tendency to 
 misconceive all truth at variance with his propen- 
 sities, no education, no usage, no creed, can fully 
 counteract. He takes his notions of the perfection 
 of any moral quality, from that form of it in which it 
 exists in his own mind; and this individual com- 
 plexion, this identity, he transfers to it, when he 
 contemplates it in the character of God. If he has 
 
TOPULAR INFIDELITY. 35 
 
 wrong notions of any moral quality in his own mind 
 or practice, yet, as he delights to cherish them, as 
 they are a part of himself, and the best he has, they 
 will prevail in his conceptions of God, in whose 
 attributes he is so sharp to discover the colours of 
 his own character. There is no glass in which he 
 will not see himself; no moral perfection which he 
 will not blemish with his likeness. Hence the 
 difficulty of convincing him of his guilt ; hence his 
 bold, his complacent perseverance in the beaten 
 ways of transgression; hence his dreams of pardon, 
 his venturing on the mercy of God, when his peril 
 is greatest, and his sins call loudest for retribution. 
 He believes indeed; he has a God and a faith in him, 
 but it is something worse than infidelity, with respect 
 to the word and attributes of that glorious Being 
 whom it aspires to honour; it not only discredits 
 what he is, and what he says, but it ascribes to him 
 qualities which he has not, and which would bring 
 him clown to a level with his sinful creatures. It 
 6 changes his truth into a lie, and his glory into an 
 image made like unto corruptible man,' but he sees 
 not the criminality of it; he gives it the name of 
 reverent service, though he is himself too irreverent, 
 too thoughtless, to know what he has done, or, 
 knowing, to feel the evil of it. 
 
 It is surely not well for the best of men to confide 
 
36 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 greatly in their understanding of spiritual excellence. 
 Their imperfections will cast their shadows upon 
 the brightest objects, and with all their desire to 
 understand them aright, with their greatest readiness 
 to suspect and accuse themselves, they cannot attain 
 to this perfection ; they will sometimes greatly dis- 
 parage God by their unworthy, though their best, 
 thoughts of him. Under pretence of celebrating 
 one of his perfections, they may depress and wrong 
 others, and make them repugnant the one to the 
 other. What then shall be thought of the difficul- 
 ties which sinners have with the character and 
 dispensations of God? What shall be thought of 
 their competence as judges of either? What con- 
 cern should they have, lest, while they endeavour to 
 frame a consistent notion of God, they leave out of 
 it every thing that is truly a perfection ; and, lest, 
 through their proneness to make their conception of 
 him agree with themselves, they cause it to disagree 
 with him ? As an absolutely perfect Being, he 
 comprehends in himself all real perfections, without 
 contradiction or repugnance, and they can neither 
 add to, or take from, him, without sullying his cha- 
 racter, and abstracting from it less or more of that 
 salutary influence which it is adapted to exert upon 
 their hearts. It is suggested by all they know of 
 themselves and others, and most consonant with 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 37 
 
 their caution in other cases, that they should be 
 wary, lest they speak too hastily concerning what 
 he does ; lest they magnify the greatness of his 
 mercy so as to lose sight of their guilt and danger 
 in it, or make it exclude other attributes which are 
 essential to his perfection, and which concern them not 
 less than that which they are most forward to extol. 
 When difficulty with him occurs, it is but decent and 
 modest to defer our opinion; it is stupid and arrogant 
 not to suspect and inquire whether the fault be not 
 wholly in our own minds; in that narrowness which 
 cannot commodiously entertain the boundless perfec- 
 tions of the Deity, and comprehend their points of 
 union, or their union which completes the glory of 
 each; in that indolence which declines patient in- 
 vestigation and prevents us from doing what we can, 
 or that self-conceit which disposes us to be satisfied 
 with our convictions, right or wrong, and imposes on 
 lis an ability of doing what we cannot, of understand- 
 ing that which is incomprehensible, of appreciating 
 that which is so excellent that we do not relish it, 
 and could not even bear to behold it aright. 
 
 It is difficult to express the rashness of a sinner, 
 
 who treads confidently, and figures largely, on this 
 
 holy ground: more difficult to conceive that he can 
 
 think it rational to confide in the worthiness and 
 
 4 
 
38 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 adequacy of his thoughts of God, especially if they 
 do not disaffect him with himself and his sins. 
 There is one glory of the sun, and another glory of the 
 moon: that which excels, he has never seen; the other 
 is but a reflection of it; it serves indeed to relieve 
 the darkness of the night, but is not sufficient for 
 the purposes of the day; nothing minute can be seen 
 in it, and he, who should attempt to frame by it a 
 nice and complicated structure, would be guilty of 
 great presumption, and might be ruined, if not by 
 the needless expense, yet by the dangerous action, 
 of it. When a man has once established a character 
 for holiness and virtue, if a known impostor brings 
 even plausible accusations against him, and endea- 
 vours, not without argument, and with great appa- 
 rent sincerity, to show that he is no better than his 
 corrupt and lawless neighbours, nobody would be- 
 lieve him. To entertain for a moment such testi- 
 mony, would not only be esteemed weak and un- 
 charitable, but a just ground for charging us with 
 a desire to believe it, or a likeness to the character 
 falsely ascribed to the innocent. And when it is 
 considered what an impostor the human heart is, 
 what sinners experience of its impositions in them- 
 selves and others, and what inducements they have, 
 or rather imagine they have, to extenuate its 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 39 
 
 wickedness, or shut their eyes to it, (which is so 
 great that none but God can know it,) 1 how shall 
 they justify it to their reason, or make their con- 
 duct consistent with the rule of their judgment in 
 other cases, when they arbitrarily confide in their 
 perception and appreciation of the attributes of God ; 
 in the testimony of their deceitful hearts to his spot- 
 less holiness and untainted righteousness, which 
 alike prove his displeasure with them, and require 
 their displeasure with themselves! 
 
 1 The prophet Jeremiah, when contemplating the wickedness anil 
 deceitfulness of the heart, exclaims, < Who can know if!' as much 
 as to say, no man can. 
 
40 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Various modes in which human character is disclosed — Prevalence 
 of hypocrisy — Its tendency to self-deception and infidelity — 
 Morality of secular men a proof of their infidelity — Devotees of 
 fashion — Dignity of their vocation— Their irreligion — Their free- 
 dom from the affectation of goodness — Their errors — The best 
 virtues of unconverted men seem not to acknowledge a God — 
 They infer the greatest misconception of personal character — 
 They centre in creatures, and afford the clearest evidence of a 
 faithless heart — Peculiar depravity of such persons — Their sinning 
 without a motive — Things which try men's souls — Their com- 
 plaints and their pretensions illustrate their infidelity — Their self- 
 importance and misery — Contrast of their reasoning and conduct 
 with the suggestions of faith — Happiness of a mind resting on God. 
 
 Men disclose their real character in many ways. 
 Small incidents, rightly considered, are very decisive 
 of it. They show by signs and complaints, to which 
 they are apt to attach little or no import, what is in 
 them, and what they think of God and of his word. 
 And what individuals disclose from any cause or 
 event, is adequate proof of what all others, having 
 the same principles, would do in a similar case. It 
 is true that we are apt to look with surprise upon 
 the conduct of others, as though we were incapable 
 of doing what they have done, yet this is a feeling 
 which universal observation condemns as founded 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 41 
 
 m ignorance and self-deception, and as one of the 
 coverts in which an evil heart conceals itself from 
 our view. Were we to take the trouble to examine 
 into our own history, we should find we have, 
 from time to time, committed acts and sins, to 
 which, at different periods, we had thought ourselves 
 in no degree exposed, and have come to a hardi- 
 hood in impenitence, and in neglect of our duties, 
 which, in a season of more tenderness of con- 
 science, we contemplated with horror. Every 
 year of life is marked with changes of this character. 
 They prove that we know little what we are, or 
 what we shall be; that 'he that trusteth in his own 
 heart is a fool/ no wiser for experience, and as con- 
 fident of future goodness as if he had been only 
 goodness itself from the beginning; — a 'fool,' be- 
 cause all he can know is something concerning God 
 or his creatures, and he knows nothing of either — 
 nothing, certainly, that deserves the repute of under- 
 standing. 
 
 This deception is seldom so complete but it is 
 known to himself, more seldom so well set off but 
 it is seen by others to be a counterfeit of goodness, 
 a confidence of virtue that does but express the loss 
 of sensibility to it. Hypocrisy is often spun of a 
 very fine thread, so fine that even the spinner can 
 
 hardly tell it from the material it is designed to 
 
 4* 
 
42 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 represent; but, when he affects to put it off as bettef 
 than that, and to be surprised that that so often fails 
 and disappoints our hopes, he may be suspected of 
 too much interest in the matter to be honest. His 
 confidence is the fruit of success, not of excellence? 
 just as the counterfeiter is confident, and sets the 
 standard value upon his spurious coin, both because 
 it will bring him thatj and because, if he lets it go 
 for less, it would expose the secret of his profession. 
 His assurance increases with the success and profit 
 of his trade; he comes soon to think well of that 
 and of himself; seeks the best society and connex* 
 ions, under the colour and pretence of a well earned 
 fortune and reputation; and, taken by others for 
 what he affects to be, no one resents any suspicion of 
 his honour or integrity more sharply, or is more 
 clamorous against the misdeeds of others. But 
 •jexpose his crimes — bring him out of his conceal^ 
 ments — cover him with shame and contempt, and 
 he will prove a mystery of iniquity; his capabilities 
 surprise himself as well as others; all of the decency, 
 the philanthropy, the seemingness of the gentleman, 
 which he had, is gone at once, and his heart swarms 
 with every species of crime and meanness. So it 
 will turn out with all the more refined and less 
 criminal degrees of hypocrisy. They conceal pow- 
 ers of evil which, in certain emergencies, under 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 43 
 
 great pressures, or for chances of great advantage^ 
 will lay by the mask, and exhibit a front of brass 
 that shocks and shames every beholder. Examples 
 of this are occurring every day through all the gra- 
 dations of society, and in individuals as little sus- 
 pected as any others; some of them so distinguished 
 that everybody knows and speaks of them; but 
 others, and by far the greater number, known only 
 to those more directly affected by them. What we 
 wish the reader to observe as pertinent to our inquiry 
 is, that the preceding remarks show that men gene- 
 rally have lower views of moral honesty, and of all 
 the qualities essential to the fear of God and a re* 
 spect for his revealed commands, than they pretend, 
 or suppose, they have; and that their faith, as they 
 will have it called, is not a faith in things as they 
 are, but involves a radical misconception of the 
 objects which it embraces. 
 
 There is another view of the subject which, though 
 disagreeable to nature, is yet worthy to be considered. 
 All men are ready to condemn hypocrisy, if not to 
 boast that they are clear of it; the very word is 
 odious, and yet nothing is more common than some 
 degree of it. If men, good and bad, were taken for 
 what they affect to be, they would generally pass 
 for more than they are worth. No doubt some are 
 suspected of evil wrongfully: suspicion, however, is 
 
44 POPULAR INFIDELITY". 
 
 gloomy, and usually the issue of guilt: but know 
 ledge is lustrous; it is truth revealed and compre* 
 hended. Genuine goodness so sharpens the sight 
 of inward corruption, that it is prone to be more 
 self-distrustful, than distrustful of others; but what 
 of humility or goodness is genuine in most men, for 
 Want of due caution, is apt to be so pressed down 
 with adverse mixtures, that it is seldom visibly 
 uppermost in their speech and conduct. Paul saw 
 nothing in the third heavens that was of a nature to 
 foster pride; but if he dwelt upon it merely as a 
 vision by which he was distinguished, he might be 
 lifted up above his measure. Hezekiah had that in 
 him which he had lost sight of, and which, we are 
 told, caused the Lord to leave him, that it might 
 break out and bring him to a better understanding 
 of his heart. David said, in his prosperity, ' I shall 
 never be moved;' an expression of his satisfaction 
 with earthly goods; an intimation that he had for- 
 gotten his dependence, and begun to prefer the gift 
 to the Giver, — the streams to the fountain. 
 
 It is difficult to keep under a light head and a self- 
 Complacent, self-seeking heart: they will rise to the 
 top of every thing, and it requires a great weight to 
 sink them; and when sunk and shamed, they will 
 perhaps float and be airy beneath the visible surface; 
 they will affect a lightness to conceal the sense of 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 45 
 
 their condition, and endeavour to gain that place 
 and confidence by impudence and pretension, which 
 they could never acquire by capacity and virtue. 
 They will flatter, not bribe; they will provoke others, 
 by deference and kindness to be sure, to speak praise 
 of them, which, if they had any proper modesty, 
 any just self-estimation, they would blush to hear, 
 and fall to pitying the weakness that could speak it. 
 But not so: they think it discernment, moderate and 
 candid judgment, and fall to praising the speaker, 
 perhaps, with a view to enhance the value and 
 authority of what he has said. There is a great 
 deal of this thing in the world, and it never would, 
 of itself, remind us of greatness or goodness. It is 
 like a doubtful coin; those who handle most of it, 
 doubtless, could not get on well without it; they find 
 their profit in it for a time, but we cannot tell what 
 the end will be. Men, good men, must oe greatly 
 good, if they are not quite content, we will not say 
 desirous, to be esteemed more highly than they 
 deserve; but to know they are so esteemed, and to 
 be lifted up by it; to think it their due for no other 
 reason, and to complain and take offence, when any 
 happen to think differently, is a species of hypocrisy, 
 a deception in good earnest, a claiming of excellence 
 which does not belong to them, — a proof that they 
 are losing sight of themselves in their admiratio- 
 
46 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 of an image of others' making; that they take pe * 
 liar pleasure in such attesting of their merits, and 
 are in danger of preferring it to the ' answer of a 
 good conscience;' that the judgment of men, rather 
 than the judgment of God, is becoming the object 
 of prevalent solicitude; and that the advantage, the 
 credit of virtue, is more looked to, than virtue itself. 
 We need not say that we have here the elements 
 of infidelity. 
 
 Let it, however, be especially considered, that 
 these thoughts are not without application to those 
 who have all along been more directly in view, — 
 persons professing to receive the Bible as the word 
 of God, rated as good and useful members of society, 
 and yet acknowledging themselves to be destitute 
 of the life and power of religion. If there be this de- 
 ceivableness of heart in good men, and this tendency 
 to put themselves off for more than their real value, 
 which none are sharper to perceive or readier to 
 believe than those who pretend to no religion; if they 
 are apt to affect and appropriate as their own, graces 
 and powers which others, whether discerningly or 
 no, accredit to them; we are bound to conclude that 
 this aptitude or proneness to deceive and be deceived, 
 is much greater in those who have no motives, no 
 principles to oppose it, such as humility, penitence, 
 fear of God, or even consistency of character. Such 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 47 
 
 persons are never rated according to their true cha- 
 racter. All observation shows this. Should we 
 note the developments of human character around 
 us; should we reason from what transpires in our 
 own bosoms, we should be convinced that the moral- 
 ity of secular men is a 'vain show;' that it is uncer- 
 tain, not like the oak that strikes its roots deeper 
 and stronger in its foundation, while its branches 
 spread and aspire to the skies, but like a feather in 
 the air, sure to obey the direction of the wind, to 
 rise and fall with it, yet settling down, down, at every 
 intermission, till it fastens on the earth, and is seen 
 to rise no more. Their morality wants a heart, a 
 principle of life and durability; its motives neither 
 look to, nor proceed from, virtue; but, like 'the 
 fool's eyes,' fix on any thing but God. This ac- 
 counts for its sad and frequent failures. Such men 
 universally pretend to more than they have. They 
 have principles of evil within them which are kept 
 under, generally, from motives no better than the 
 principles themselves, — motives, certainly, that can 
 never purify the heart, and must indispose and steel 
 it to those that can. Their motives are such as they 
 might have if there were no God: they are not drawn 
 from his word, and, if they have any respect to their 
 accountability to him, it is a respect of fear, not of 
 love; it implies no understanding or approbation of 
 
48 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 his character; it is a mere observing, hardly a fear- 
 ing, of his thunder; it is only nature's involuntary 
 recognition of its Author; a blush of guilt that 
 vanishes with thought; something, like our daily 
 noticing of the presence of the sun, not as any thing 
 we have to do with or think of, except as it serves 
 or incommodes ourselves. There is no God in it; 
 and if it may be said to bow at the shadow or thought 
 of one, it is the god of infidels, not the < true God 
 who is reconciling the world unto himself by Jesus 
 Christ/ but a god only having such perfections as it 
 suits them to give him; a god who has no concern 
 with rational creatures, but to see that they are not 
 destroyed by any irregular action of his works, who 
 will make them amends for the accidents, losses, 
 and sufferings, which they cannot avoid, and who 
 is complained of, when he crosses their desires, and 
 but spared, when he does them good; a god who is 
 afar off, has no communication with his thinking 
 creatures, and keeps them alive and permits them 
 to multiply, nobody can tell for what. 
 
 If we consider what their designs, motives, and 
 affections fasten on, what they look to and centre in, 
 all the faith we discover is, that God was somehow 
 concerned in the making of the world, and that they 
 as his creatures do not exactly live without him. 
 Is the desire of wealth, of knowledge, of office, the 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 49 
 
 ruling passion ? — every track leads to this path, every 
 stream runs into this channel; there is no God, no 
 world besides. Here the rock is formed, against 
 which all other currehts dash with no power to melt 
 or bear it away. As we look upon the spectacle, 
 we have only the idea that the rational being before 
 us was made to lay up money, to gain some applause 
 and distinction from his fellows, and then die; or 
 that he has lost his proper attraction, pursues no end 
 suitable to himself or to the mind of his Creator, and 
 is to be known as rational more by his feet and 
 hands, than by any proof he gives of faith in the 
 word of God, or in the worth of his own immortal 
 nature. 
 
 There are others, church-going people too, they 
 are often, — persons neither good nor bad, — harmless 
 creatures that live to enjoy themselves with others, 1 
 who seem to think that all which is committed to 
 them to do, is to keep up the fashion of the world. 
 From morning till evening, perhaps not from eve- 
 ning till morning, they are watching the pulse of 
 fashion; every symptom of the creature, always sick 
 at best, is studied as if the event of life turned upon 
 it; all her whims are to be imitated, and he who has 
 the start of others in conformity, thinks himself 
 
 1 ' There is a sort of men, whose coining heads 
 Ave mints of all new fashions.' — 
 5 
 
50 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 made for the time. These airy minds spend their 
 strength in contriving and inventing fresh amuse- 
 ments for themselves and others, in thinking and 
 talking over the incidents and hap-hazards of the 
 day, and in compliments and ados preparatory to 
 the coming prospect. They never talk on serious 
 subjects, except as an act of penance; and he who 
 does so in their presence, runs a chance of being 
 thought a novice, unacquainted with the fashionable 
 world, — a world where such things are not in vogue. 
 While every thing about them, properly considered, 
 is serious, grave as with the impression of moment- 
 ous truth, they are light and thoughtless; or, if they 
 think at all, it is as people breathe, without knowing 
 it. Should they ever wear out, it will not be by a 
 rational operation, but as a fire does, for want of fuel. 
 They must have full scope and excitement: take 
 these away from them, and they flounce and give 
 signs of constraint, like a fish in shallow water, or 
 wilt inanimately, like a flower cut down in the sun. 
 They love the shades through which the light of 
 truth never breaks ; and the fewer thoughts and 
 reflections they can do with, the happier they are. 
 Would you punish them, bring out their temper, or 
 discover their drift, — make them stay with them- 
 selves, cross their will, tax them with the reading 
 of a truth-telling book, or with a conversation on 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 51 
 
 the useful employment of time, and you will discover 
 at once that they have had, and will have, nothing to 
 do with reality; it is a dull and gross affair; a weed in 
 a bed of flowers, a jewel set in iron, so thought, be- 
 cause it is nature shown in the grain, truth shorn 
 of fancy colours, and duty seen as it runs in practice. 
 Their thoughts will not come down to so plain a 
 thing; they live for other and gayer ends; and like 
 the < flower-shaped psyche,' they fly and light, and 
 light and fly awhile, nobody the better for their pre- 
 sence, or the worse that they are gone. But were 
 thinking creatures made simply to run these rounds? 
 no time for rest, no place for rational entertainment 
 by the way ! Were they made to add, to multiply, 
 and subtract with ciphers only? Do they know 
 there is a God? — or knowing there is, do they ever 
 think that they are known to him? Patterns of 
 civility, exact observers of propriety, quick avengers 
 of neglects, do they give him a look or a bow of recog- 
 nition, as he speaks and passes in his dispensations ? 
 ' The ox knoweth his owner,' but these people do 
 not know, do not consider, to whom they belong. 
 Look through all their doings, pleasures, plans, and 
 you will find no sympathy, no pause, no check, 
 caused by divine truth. The affectation of good and 
 reverent qualities proves some consideration for 
 them: but they have not this; they do not, whatever 
 
52 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 else they affect, so much as affect a show of devotion 
 As Lot's wife, for looking back and not believing 
 the word of the Lord, was changed into a pillar of 
 salt, so they seem to be fashioned into an unnatural 
 structure, ' looking before and after,' steeled against 
 obedience, and bent on idols and self-indulgence. 
 Y you take from them the diction and metre of 
 fashion, the thoughts and affections which are bred 
 in worldly fancies and amusements, what do you 
 leave them but empty vessels, mansions whose great 
 inhabitants are kept in chains by usurpers, or pre- 
 sented as strung up in bones, with no heart, no 
 flashes of wit and conscience, shadowing life and 
 hope. They are ' without God in the world;' that 
 is, they are without that influence from him, enter- 
 ing into their affections, joys, plans, hopes, and 
 shaping the conduct, which a belief of his word 
 would impart. They are infidels, no better in con- 
 dition and prospect, than those who acknowledge 
 they are so; and if they do not know it, it is because 
 they have not taken the trouble to be informed: they 
 want the reflection necessary to conviction. 
 
 There can be no living after the manner above 
 described, without ignorance of the word of God, 
 (and to be ignorant of it, when we have it in our 
 hands, is to despise and reject it,) or without some 
 inward, sleepy contrivance of our own, by which we 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 53 
 
 underrate the blessedness promised to obedience, 
 and hope to escape the punishment threatened against 
 transgression,— and this, again, is infidelity. 
 
 Other remarks might be made in reference to this 
 class of individuals, which would lead to the same 
 conclusion. As a general principle, it is worthy to 
 be noted, that there is nothing which true faith 
 prompts us to shun more resolutely than the ' appear* 
 ance of evil.' The true believer sees nothing more 
 to be dreaded than sin. He has such experience of 
 its bitterness, yea, of his proneness to it, that like 
 4 the prudent man,' he ' foreseeth the evil and hideth 
 himself.' If called to meet it in any of the forms 
 of temptation, he distrusts his strength, and attempts 
 to stand up and go forward, only in the strength of 
 the Lord. Persons, who have none of this expe- 
 rience, are already captives, ' sold under sin.' They 
 have made it their element so long, and their thoughts 
 nnd feelings flow in its channels so naturally, that 
 nothing seems to be wrong. They do not identify 
 its nature, or separate it from themselves. 
 
 If we apply this principle to the devotees of fashion 
 and pleasure, to idlers at large, they will appear to 
 personate infidelity. Sin, considered abstractly, is 
 no evil in their view. They never think that its 
 nature is to obstruct all faith in the word of God, — 
 that low apprehensions of its evil nature tend directly 
 5* 
 
54 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 to produce diminishing impressions of the excellency 
 of the divine law, and of the worth of the privileges 
 and blessings of the gospel. In short, their views 
 make ' the manifold wisdom of God ? in the great 
 plan of redemption by the sufferings and death of 
 Christ, foolishness, a downright misconception of 
 their condition and necessities* Entertaining these 
 notions of sin, and affected by them in this manner, 
 no wonder they are not troubled by it, and do not 
 seek deliverance from it. Who will apply for grace 
 When he feels that he has strength enough without 
 it? Who that is whole will seek a physician ? Who 
 that is in no danger will fly to a refuge ? Who can 
 be penetrated with shame and sorrow for that which 
 he deems no crime, or discredit to himself? Who 
 will learn to depend on a foreign agency to live 
 virtuously, when virtue is his boast, and considered 
 to be his birthright? No persons are in greater 
 danger of falling into these views of sin, and the 
 unbelief they engender, than those to whom we 
 have alluded. They are not, generally, addicted to 
 distinguished iniquities, —things that expose them- 
 selves, abash pride, and endanger character. They 
 are strict observers of decency and moderation in 
 sinning. They are only devoted to pleasures and 
 amusements called innocent. They are not pious 
 to be sure, but that is no criim<\ not a thing to be 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 55 
 
 repented of or alarmed at. Nothing is more com- 
 mon, say they, and we may safely and without 
 reproach go with the multitude in one respect, if we 
 shun their vices in others. Thus they are confident; 
 no temptations scare them, no danger of being 
 brought near great offences along an inclined road 
 of evil is apprehended, and the only wonder is, that 
 they last so long; that they do not sooner and oftener 
 slide, break through all restraint, and stand out as 
 matured criminals. There is criminality in all they 
 do, for they do nothing well; and not to do well, is 
 to do wrong. Their great error is, that they do not 
 see the sinfulness of sin in their forgetfulness of 
 God; in their not rating and loving objects according 
 to the measure of their worth and excellence. These 
 things show that their nature has run wild from 
 goodness, — that they are estranged from God; and 
 to be estranged from him is the sum and essence 
 of all sin, the very heart of infidelity, — that keeper 
 of the conscience that shuts out the entrance of truth, 
 and cries peace, peace, when all the peace there is, 
 is only that, when pains and fears give way to death. 
 If we examine the best virtues of unconverted 
 men generally, and particularly of such as we have 
 last described, we shall find new light on the subject. 
 It requires no great insight into human nature, to 
 discover the remnants of a now fallen, but once 
 
56 POPULAR INFIDELITY* 
 
 glorious, structure; and, what is most remarkable, to 
 see that the remains of this ancient greatness are 
 more apt to be quickened and drawn out by their 
 semblances and qualities, found in creatures, than 
 by the bright and full perfection of them which 
 is in the Creator;— that the heart puts on its most 
 benign face, and sends forth prompt returns of 
 gratitude and love to creatures who have bestowed 
 on us favour and displayed other amiable quali- 
 ties, while He, whose goodness is so great, so 
 complete, so pervading, that there is none besides 
 it, — the gifts and qualities, with which we are so 
 readily enamoured, being his, and not his creatures', 
 except as they are permitted to pass through their 
 hands to ours, — is unrequited, unheeded, unseen, 
 though hanging out his glory from the heavens, and 
 coming down to us in streams of compassion and 
 love, which have made an ocean on earth that is to 
 overflow and fill it. How strange it is, that all this 
 love, so wonderful in itself, so undeserved, so dif- 
 fused, that we see it in every beauty, and taste it in 
 every enjoyment, — should be lost on creatures whose 
 love for the gentler and worthier qualities of each 
 other, runs so often into rapture and devotion ! How 
 strange that they should be so delighted with streams 
 which have gathered such admixtures of earth, which 
 cast up such ' mire and dirt/ and have such shallows 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 57 
 
 and falls that we often wreck our hopes in them, — as 
 not to be reminded by them of the great and unmixed 
 fountain whence they have flowed, or of the great 
 ocean, to whose dark and unbottomed depths they 
 will at last settle, as too earthy to rise to its pure 
 and glorious surface! There are many mysteries 
 in human nature, but none greater than this: for 
 while it shows man is so much a creature of sense 
 and so devoid of faith, that objects, to gain his atten- 
 tion and affection, must not only be present to him, 
 but have something of sense and self in them, we 
 are still left to wonder how he could, with such 
 manifestations of divine goodness in him, around 
 him, and for him, have failed to see and adore them, 
 and become so like a brute, as not to think of God, 
 the original of all that is lovely, when thinking of 
 those his qualities which so please and affect him in 
 creatures; and this, though they be so soiled and 
 defaced by sin, that his unmixed fondness for any 
 the most agreeable of them, instead of being an 
 accomplishment, is a sure indication of a mind sunk 
 greatly below the standard allotted to it by the 
 Creator. 
 
 Our wonder will be raised higher still, if we con- 
 sider that our nature, when most corrupt and per- 
 verse, is not wholly lost to all sense of gratitude, but 
 may be wrought upon by human kindness, when all t 
 
58 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 the amazing compassion and love of God fail to 
 affect it; if we consider that the very worst of men 
 who set their faces against the heavens, affronting 
 the mercy and defying the majesty thereof, are 
 sometimes so softened with a sense of singular and 
 undeserved favours, that their hearts swell with 
 grateful sentiments towards their benefactors, and 
 something akin to virtue is kindled up where no- 
 thing of the kind was seen before; we might think 
 it incredible, if there was any doubting of what we 
 see and know. When we see such men so ready to 
 acknowledge their obligations to their fellows, and 
 to return service for service; so impatient of being 
 thought ungrateful, when they have any character or 
 interest to promote by it, and sometimes, when they 
 have not; so strongly affected with the goodness of 
 him who has interposed between them and temporal 
 danger or death, and yet so little moved by the love 
 of God in Christ, which has undertaken their rescue 
 from eternal and deserved woes, and not merely 
 their rescue, but their exaltation to fellowship with 
 himself, and to the pleasures for evermore at his right 
 hand, — a love compared with which the greatest 
 love of creatures is as a ray of light to the sun and 
 that ray mixed and darkened, while this is so dis- 
 interested and free in the grounds and motives of it, 
 that it is exercised towards those who have neither 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 59 
 
 merit to invite, nor disposition to receive it; when 
 we see this, and find that this love, so worthy in 
 itself, so incomprehensible in its degree and in the 
 benefits it would confer, is the only love to which 
 they make no returns of thankfulness or regard, we 
 may ascribe as much of it as we please to the hard- 
 ness and corruption of their hearts, but that will not 
 account for such conduct. Depravity, considered 
 by itself, will not enable us fully to understand it. 
 Depraved, sensual, and perverse as they are, they 
 have something in them that is kindled by human 
 kindness, and why should it not be kindled by the 
 greater 6 kindness of God our Saviour?' It is not 
 because it is a divine kindness; not that it is less 
 needed — not that it is bestowed in less measure, or 
 at less expense. And if it is because they do not 
 apprehend this kindness, do not feel their need of it, 
 do not see any thing affecting in the measure and 
 expense of it, this is infidelity; and it grows out of 
 an entire misconception of their own character, and 
 of the character and law of God. It is a total blind- 
 ness to distant and invisible good and evil. It is a 
 venturing of every thing most important to them- 
 selves on an uncertainty, which they would not and 
 could not do, if they had any understanding of the 
 value of the interests at stake. They really see 
 nothing important but the gratifications of sense and 
 
60 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 time: still they have the remains of a capacity for 
 something higher. These may be contemplated 
 with profit, if not with admiration. They resemble 
 the motions in the limbs and heart of animals, when 
 the head is severed from the body. They are 
 symptoms of a life that of itself must come to no- 
 thing; a life that is solely pouring itself out on the 
 ground. But as this is all the life they have, an 
 image of life, and that only of life in death; and as 
 the motions of it are only excited by the creature's 
 kindness, we discover in their best virtues, or rather, 
 in their only breathings and indications of virtue, 
 the evidence of a faithless heart. 
 
 The different classes of people brought to our view 
 in this chapter, generally consider themselves very 
 innocent; some, because they are free from great 
 vices, and others, because great vices have blinded 
 their eyes to guilt. But it is observable that the 
 ground of this supposed innocence is the same in 
 all, and lies in mistaken views of the evil nature of 
 sin, and of the gospel plan of delivering them both 
 from its pollution and curse; so that the most virtuous 
 one of them is as much an infidel in this as the most 
 vicious, that he does not believe himself to be totally 
 ruined by .sin, totally destitute of any thing accept- 
 able to a holy God, and totally dependent on him 
 for grace to renew and fit the soul for the bliss of 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 61 
 
 heaven. Their virtues, too, though in some more 
 clearly manifested than in others, are in all the same 
 as to the grounds and ohjects of them. They are 
 such as love, gratitude, sympathy with the distresses, 
 and patient endurance for the welfare, of others. 
 We see much of these in one way and another, and 
 sometimes very attractive examples of them. But, 
 as has been shown, their aptest, if not their only 
 exercise, is in view of the favours, claims, and vir- 
 tues of creatures. These display acts of love, grati- 
 tude, and self-denial, strongly fastening on and 
 ending in the creatures, while they are in no degree 
 moved by the greater occasions and excitements 
 of these virtues, found in the dispensations and 
 perfections of the Creator. These very virtues 
 then, which are more the distinction of some than 
 of others, yet in some way the boast of all, are, as 
 truly as their vices, the proof of rank infidelity — 
 that mixture of folly and estrangement which seems 
 to say, ' there is no God.' 
 
 They all, too, pay a certain homage to virtue — 
 some by their unwillingness to be thought without 
 it; others by their sensibility to manifestations of it 
 in friends and benefactors; and others, far the greater 
 number, by false pretensions to it. We allude to 
 this now as a proof of peculiar depravity, especially 
 in those who have been considered as claiming for 
 6 
 
62 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 themselves a special exemption from it. Their very 
 claim to virtue, their affectation of it, shows that their 
 nature and interest plead in its behalf. This part 
 of their conduct seems to acknowledge, in some 
 sense, the worth and advantages of Christian virtue. 
 And thus far, at least, it serves to evince that the 
 temptations to sin and irreligion not only do not 
 make their appeal to the reason of man, but are op- 
 posed both by his reason and interest. If we allow 
 that men are strongly prone to conceal their vices, 
 and to display virtues, whether they have them or 
 not, there can be no better evidence that immorality 
 and impiety are found to be inexpedient in the pre- 
 sent life. It shows that the witnesses against them 
 are thick on every side; that the practice of them is 
 not merely a disadvantage, but a wrong and a vio- 
 lence against reason, as well as a contempt and 
 breach of the will of God. That must be a singular 
 wickedness, a sin-loving sinfulness indeed, that is 
 abashed and reproved at every turn, and still sins 
 on with pain and hazard, without the hope of ad- 
 vantage, and against the strongest pleadings of a 
 better mind. Such persons sin without a gain; and, 
 if they are to be credited, without a love of it too. 
 They sin with acknowledged disadvantage and in- 
 jury to themselves. Indeed, on their principles, 
 nobody can tell why they sin at all, unless it be as 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 63 
 
 water runs downhill, because it cannot stop itself, 
 and has a seeking to get as low as it can. They 
 have that in them which rejects the testimony of God 
 concerning his Son, brings his counsel to naught, 
 casts back his gifts at his feet, and thus exalts itself 
 ' above all that is called God.' If they could have 
 faith without reflection, be delivered from misery in 
 their sins, and obtain heaven without a cross; then 
 well and good: they would like to have it so. They 
 are barely (for they seem not to study or calculate 
 much about it) willing to be saved on their own 
 terms, and see no wisdom in any other. Hence 
 their wonderful ingratitude for redemption. Hence 
 the doctrine of Christ is clouded and deprived of its 
 proper influence, by their misconceptions of it and 
 of their own character. Their minds are filled with 
 mean and unworthy thoughts and suspicions of God, 
 which are but the types and shadows of themselves, 
 pointing to those revelations of great depravity, 
 which they are so apt to make on occasions of temp- 
 tation and affliction. 
 
 There are times and events which 'try men's 
 souls,' and bring to light ' the hidden things of dark- 
 ness.' It seems to be a general law of God's deal- 
 ings with his rational creatures, to give them pres- 
 sure enough of some kind, to make them show out 
 what they are. This is perhaps a reason why the 
 
64 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 actors in great deceptions and iniquities seem to be 
 so often struck with infatuation and a strange pro- 
 pensity to self-disclosure. But there is nothing un- 
 natural in it. There are always folly and miscalcu- 
 lation in sin: it is the weakest as well as the worst 
 of things; it is as stupid as it is criminal. Still 
 there is, besides this natural tendency of sin, a ten- 
 dency in the dispensations of God to bring out the 
 real character of men. And none are more apt to 
 disappoint our expectations, (unless indeed we have 
 profited by observation, so as to expect little from 
 them,) than those who, without any pretence or 
 show of piety, make large pretensions to the moral 
 virtues, and have indeed a fair appearance of them. 
 They sometimes, all at once, without any apparent 
 maturing process, develope a capacity for impiety and 
 crime that would shock the hardiest infidel to wit- 
 ness. Hazael, no doubt, had been a faithful servant; 
 he had the confidence of his king, and, if he were 
 not a dissembler, was confident of his own virtue, 
 when he came to consult the prophet, Elisha, con- 
 cerning the recovery of his master's health. But 
 so great was his capacity for iniquity, that 'the man 
 of God wept' as he looked upon him; and when 
 Hazael inquired for the occasion of his tears, he an- 
 swered, 'because I know the evil that thou wilt do 
 unto the children of Israel.' And when told the 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 65 
 
 crimes he would commit — confident that he could 
 not be guilty of such deeds— Hazael replies in that 
 haste which intimates either disgust or resentment, 
 < But what! is thy servant a dog, that he should do 
 this great thing?' And Elisha answered, ' The 
 Lord hath showed me that thou shalt be king over 
 Syria.' Here was the temptation; and, forewarned 
 as he was, what did he do? He returned to his 
 master with a lie in his mouth, the secret abomina- 
 tions of his heart were unloosed, he murdered the 
 helpless king, and 'reigned in his stead.' So it 
 turns out with numbers of this class. But one in- 
 stance is as good as many, to show that there is no 
 Stability, no principle, no nature of goodness in any 
 of them. Should God lay his hand upon the best 
 of them, as he did upon his servant Job, they would 
 disclose their great sinfulness, if not in abandoning 
 themselves to vices and crimes, yet in more direct 
 and expressive manifestations of enmity to him. 
 Should he afflict them with sores, break up their 
 peace, take away their possessions, children, and 
 friends, they would not require a special tempter, 
 they would show, before half the trial was over, that 
 their service, their virtue, had been for reward; 
 they would, not prompted by another, but self- 
 moved, i curse him to his face;' and, instead of sub- 
 mitting, and. if need were, dying, like a rational 
 
68 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 creature returning to God, they would fly from 
 him, and suffer themselves to be taken, as they do 
 the robber to take their money, only when they 
 could resist it no longer* 
 
 It is observable that when troubles and crosses do 
 not break the human will and render it submissive 
 to the will of God, they only stir up its resistance to 
 discharge itself in complaints against him. Such 
 complaints always suppose that the sufferings in the 
 case are not deserved, are unjustly inflicted, and 
 altogether inconsistent with the divine wisdom and 
 goodness in the government of the world. It will 
 be seen at once that this view is wholly at variance 
 with any true knowledge of God, his word, or the 
 heart of man, and that it disqualifies for the exercise, 
 as well as disproves the existence, of the lowest de- 
 gree of faith in either as revealed in the Scriptures. 
 These complaints indeed assume man to be wiser 
 than God, and affect a desire to govern, to be out 
 of his hands, and to be without him, and without 
 hope from him, in the world. Nothing can more 
 clearly express distrust of his word and perfections, 
 or more immoderately exalt the wisdom and merit 
 of man. On the ground of these assumptions, his 
 will is to prevail in every thing; he is to be con- 
 sidered as knowing what is best for him, as entitled 
 to what he has, as needing no correction, and as 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 67 
 
 wronged by every pain he feels — a pretension in 
 which he swings clear from God and all duty to 
 him; not to mention that it makes him infallible, 
 and God an erring and unauthorized disturber of 
 human affairs. We say not that men ever believe 
 all this, when they stop to reflect; but in the haste 
 of passion and interest their faith may go on at this 
 rate. But whether they be said to believe it or no, 
 they appear sometimes to act and speak it. They 
 act, if not on the faith, on the presumption of it, 
 which is worse; for hastily to presume that respect- 
 ing God and his dispensations, which is so extrava- 
 gant and impious that we cannot considerately be- 
 lieve it, is a singular aggravation of guilt. 
 
 To entertain an injurious suspicion of another's 
 character, without so much as inquiring whether there 
 be any ground for it, is proof of no ordinary depravity. 
 It indicates a delight in evil surmises, a love of evil for 
 its own sake, an inconsideration for the rights of 
 others, which, under protection from personal harm, 
 would not stop at any injustice. Men may be so 
 prejudiced and depraved, as to be greatly liable to 
 form wrong and injurious conclusions even after 
 much inquiry for the truth. It may also be very dif- 
 ficult to convince them of their error, and still, they 
 may have too much conscience, too much considera- 
 tion, to adopt such conclusions, without any examina- 
 
68 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 tion, or to retain them, without some persuasion of 
 their truth. There are, if we may so say, marks' 
 of rationality in their guilt, concessions at least that 
 they hold themselves responsible for what they do 
 and think. But what should be thought of those 
 who never ask whether they are right or wrong; 
 who are wrong chiefly on subjects of the greatest 
 moment to themselves, and most criminally wrong, 
 because subjects of such a nature that a little reflec- 
 tion would be sufficient to set them right? If it 
 argues peculiar depravity in men to take up and credit 
 a report, fatal to the reputation of one who has been 
 long known and spoken of by them as distinguished 
 for his goodness, without concerning themselves to 
 know the truth of it; still, as a good man at best is 
 imperfect and sometimes falls from the just eleva- 
 tion he has gained, it is not so very wonderful, 
 though so very wicked, that they should do this, as 
 that they should presume to impeach the justice and 
 wisdom of God in his dealings with them, without 
 being at all awed by his perfections or their own 
 ignorance and guilt; without indeed so much as in- 
 quiring whether there may not be good reasons for 
 what he does — reasons looking after their best wel- 
 fare and growing out of his perfection: — and this, 
 when in their prosperity, when he allowed them to 
 have their way in every thing, though it were a way 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 09 
 
 of disservice to him and of destruction to themselves, 
 none were more certain to take occasion to sin from 
 his goodness, or more ready to profess their patience 
 and pleasure to continue in his hands! What has 
 changed their views? What has put to flight their 
 reverence and consideration at once? God has not 
 changed. His goodness is no more tarnished or di- 
 minished than the sun's light and greatness, by the 
 clouds that have darkened their prospect. Must they 
 always have a clear sky? Must they be visited only 
 with gentle breezes and heavenly dews? Must there 
 be no winds and storms? Must they be exempt from 
 the general laws which the Creator has established? 
 Must he work a perpetual miracle in their behalf, 
 that nothing may give them pain, and that every 
 thing may go as they would have it? Suppose he 
 should, and should do the mind of all in the same 
 way? Would there be any room for him to have a 
 will of his own? Would any thing but confusion and 
 disorder follow? Should the wishes of others con- 
 flict with their own, which must prevail? They, or 
 others, on this plan, must be subjected to disappoint- 
 ments and crosses; and thus no way seems to be 
 left for God to silence their complaints and secure 
 their approbation, but to let them have their plea- 
 sure in every thing, and to do his own pleasure 
 with respect to all others. What importance then 
 
70 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 do they take to themselves! What ignorance and 
 distrust of God do they betray, in their murmurs 
 against his dispensations! The moment they are 
 tried and shaken a little, they fall off from him, like 
 the dead limbs and leaves of a tree. They have a 
 certain elevation, but there is no life and vigour in 
 it; and, when its earthly props are taken away, it 
 falls to the ground. They are like those people who 
 have great trust and pleasure in their physician, 
 when their health is returning and the prospects of 
 worldly enjoyments are brightening afresh; but no 
 sooner do new pains and doubtful symptoms arise, 
 than they lose all confidence, and vent their impa- 
 tience in reproaches. The doctor must give them 
 instant relief, or he has no skill; he must be ever at 
 their side, or he is inattentive, though the world 
 beside is dying for want of his assistance. 
 
 Here is a mistake which people often make in 
 complaining of God. They appear to think that 
 they are very special objects of his attention — that 
 he comes out of his ivay to reach and afflict them. 
 They forget that they are each but one of a world, 
 and that clouds and sunshine are no respecters of 
 persons. They will see at once the reason and ad- 
 vantage of his dispensations. They must feel the 
 profit; they must have a sight and taste of it, and 
 not be compelled to trust and look for it. Like a 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 71 
 
 child that is put to a task, with the promise of a re- 
 ward to-morrow, they become impatient and idle, 
 while the reward is out of sight; but only bring it to 
 their eye and keep it there, and they will do and 
 suffer twice as much as was required to obtain it. In 
 affliction they reason like a child whose thoughts are 
 taken up with the smart of a burn, and therefore 
 refuses to be comforted by the fire, forgets its design, 
 and thinks it has no use but to burn: or like a child 
 that has been spoiled by indulgence, they think it 
 proper that every will should bend to theirs, take 
 every cross as a wrong, and resist every invasion 
 with as much sharpness and confidence as if the 
 world were all a nest and they the wasps that made it. 
 There is something fundamentally wrong in the 
 moral condition of such people. We see nothing 
 of the character of goodness in them, and as little of 
 the reflection and support of faith. Instead of 
 making other things their appendages, they seem to 
 append to and lean on every thing. They are like 
 vessels that are kept from shrinking, or falling to 
 pieces, only by the air that fills them. They are 
 given to change, and the reason is or seems to be, 
 that they know not what well enough is, or know- 
 ing, cannot let it alone. It will do for children 
 to complain of crosses, and to desire novelties, and 
 we should bear with them, if they have little reason 
 
72 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 in either j but grown people ought to conquer their 
 desires, not let their desires conquer them. Know- 
 ing the little there is to choose between one and 
 another thing, except so far as it may be more or 
 less turned to our spiritual account, we ought to be 
 diffident of our choices, and at most, to conclude that 
 we should profit little by that which the highest 
 wisdom, tempered with the most condescending 
 goodness, denies to our desires. What is less agree- 
 able to faith and reason, than the conduct of a rational 
 being, discontented with his present condition, and 
 languishing for this and another thing, as if nothing 
 allotted to him were such as it should be, or such as 
 he might safely determine to have it? The kind of 
 computation which we are disposed to make in these 
 matters, is very decisive of our character. Faith is 
 not apt to turn chooser of the bounties of God, but 
 attaches chief value to that which bears the clearest 
 stamp of his will, regarding more the good intent, 
 than the sensible fruition, of the gift. It indulges no 
 large expectation, especially no immoderate craving, 
 of temporal enjoyment, well assured that but little 
 can be lost here at most, and that nothing can be in- 
 tended to afford us rest, which we must so soon 
 leave and our fondness is so apt to turn to our 
 harm. It makes us afraid to complain that we have 
 so little to enjoy; it rather fills us with wonder that 
 
FOPULAR INFIDELITY. 73 
 
 we have so much. It always looks before it leaps, 
 and has the manhood to bear with present ills, so 
 long as there is promise or hope of their conducting 
 to the best result at last. 
 
 How admirable are the reflections and actions 
 prompted by the genuine faith of the Christian, con- 
 trasted with those of the complaining, restless spirit 
 of unbelief! When he comes to try a new situa- 
 tion, he expects to find it little better, perhaps worse, 
 than the one he leaves. If things are not right 
 at home, in himself, he knows that things abroad, 
 out of himself, will not make him happy. He is 
 able, like the bee, to extract sweets from the bitter- 
 est flowers, (flower to him every thing that will 
 yield a sweetness,) and to feed, in inclement seasons, 
 on the honey that is in his hive, that is, in himself, 
 through the culture and the treasuring of kind and 
 pious affections. He lets patience have her ' perfect 
 work,' because that is the wiy for him to be made 
 6 perfect and entire.' 1 ' He inherits the promises 
 through faith and patience.' 2 He ' has need of pa- 
 tience, that, after he has done the will of God,' and 
 suffered according to his will, 3 he may receive the 
 ■promised reward; for in due time he knows 6 he shall 
 reap, if he faint not.' 4 He knows that the final re- 
 ward is sure — that it will come at last — and that it 
 
 ' Jam. i. 1. 2 Hcb. vi. 12. • Heb. x. 36. 4 Gal. vi. 9. 
 
74 POPULAR INFIDELITr. 
 
 is so great that when it comes, it will abundantly 
 recompense all his work, yea, and patience too. 1 He 
 has in the most trying allotments ' the patience of 
 hope,' the sweetness and evenness of a mind at peace 
 with God. How happy then is he that truly con- 
 fides in God; that has < his fruit unto holiness,' both 
 6 the hundredfold' in this life, and in the end, 6 life 
 everlasting!' 2 
 
 Now, if the task is easier, and the benefit greater, 
 what can excuse our folly and guilt, or rather what 
 can make them greater, if we will not give up our- 
 selves to be ordered by his guidance, and will not 
 submit to the strokes and burdens which he may lay 
 on us? The task is easier, for nothing is harder 
 than to strive against God, and to have all our 
 crosses aggravated and our pains imbittered, by 
 restless, corroding, and despairing appetites and fu- 
 ries. The benefit is greater than if we could by 
 resistance have our own wills, and enjoy the world 
 to the full: for ' God is not unrighteous to forget' 
 our ' labour of love,' and our ' patience of hope,' and 
 will confer on us a great and eternal reward. But 
 in the world there is nothing permanent and dura- 
 ble; and if there were, it would not be suitable to 
 us, because how long soever that might last in itself, 
 yet we could not. last to enjoy it. Though our tem- 
 1 Heb. x. 37. 2 Rom. vi. 22. Mark x. 30. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 75 
 
 poral goods and comforts were not movable, yet we 
 are; though they might stay with us, yet we could 
 not stay with them; and though they should procure 
 many advantages and pleasures for us, yet that would 
 make the pain and loss of parting with them greater, 
 and by attaching us to life here, might cheat us out 
 of life hereafter. It clearly does not suit our best 
 reason to be greatly anxious for distinctions and 
 eomforts here; but there is as much true reason as 
 piety in the counsel, to be ' always abounding in the 
 work of the Lord,' and thai upon the ground, that 
 c we know our labour is not in vain in the Lord.' 1 
 
 An inordinate love of the world in some shape is 
 a principal source of impatience, murmuring, and 
 unbelief among Christians. Every thing here is so 
 uncertain that, unless we rest upon something more 
 stable, we shall be the subjects of perpetual change. 
 When the world rises in importance to us, that will 
 magnify our disadvantages and losses, and propor- 
 tionably shut out from our view the objects of faith, 
 and from our hearts the comforts of our interest in 
 them. We are thus borne off upon a dangerous sea, 
 without any certain direction and object, and every 
 wind rocks, and troubles, and alarms us. If we 
 well consider it, we shall learn to set lightly by 
 creatures, that we may not have an ill farewell with 
 ' 1 Cor. xv. 58. 
 
76 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 them at last; we shall not envy the distinction and 
 happiness of those worldly minds that seem to reap 
 the fruit of their service and toil in the success and 
 glory of their affairs. They find but a show and 
 semblance of the reality which they seek in these 
 things; 'they weary themselves for very vanity; 7 
 they fulfil in their experience, and in their end, 
 the inspired declaration, * man walketh in a vain 
 shadow, and disquieteth himself in vain.' 1 Sorrow 
 and repentance is the only end to which they will 
 come at last, and the best end to which they can 
 come in time, and the sooner it comes the better for 
 them; 'for the end of those things,' rested in, 'is 
 death.' 2 
 
 It would be unaccountable that the Christian, who 
 has tasted the bitterness of sin, and the sweetness 
 of pardon and hope, who has been under the conduct 
 and in sight of the world to come, should again be 
 found spending his 'money for that which is not 
 bread, and his labour for that which satisfieth not/ 
 had we no experience of his infirmities, and his 
 proneness to divide the heart between God and the 
 world. Hence the necessity of his many correc- 
 tions and sorrows. Hence we discover the great 
 goodness and wisdom of God, in the uncertain con- 
 tinuance and value of all earthly possessions. He 
 1 Psal. xxxix. 6. 2 R ora> v - u 2 ^ 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 77 
 
 kindly corrupts these streams and undermines these 
 foundations, that we may not rest here to our harm. 
 He makes ' the way of the transgressor hard/ and 
 blocks up the ' broad read' of sinners, that he may 
 win them by present difficulty to think of future 
 good, and by* the present poverty of their joys, to 
 seek that ' fulness of joy which is in his presence.' 
 He thus sets himself like a sun in our view, serving 
 us by that which we deem disservice, and enlighten- 
 ing us by that which we miscall darkness. If that 
 which most endangers our greatest good is the 
 greatest evil, then prosperity is often a greater evil 
 than adversity, and what is best for us is often that 
 which is most painful, and most nearly slays us to 
 the world. 1 The vapours and clouds which gather 
 in the sky, always leave it clearer and purer. They 
 obscure for a while the lights of heaven, but these 
 soon come out again with a softened and more cheer- 
 ful effulgence. The ancients were in great fear and 
 imagined evil from the eclipses of the sun, and still 
 the sun was unchanged; it had as much light and 
 -glory as ever, as many planets were moved by its 
 attraction, and only the harmless shade of a body 
 that could never shine, except in a lustre not its 
 own, had got between them and the delight of their 
 eyes. So it happens in lesser systems, in our own 
 
 1 James iv. 4 
 
78 £opulah mxtwtiTt. 
 
 experience. When darkness or tribulation comes 
 on us, we are apt to start and fear, ' as though some 
 strange thing had happened to us.' 1 The comfortable 
 countenance of the ' Light of the world' is perhaps 
 "veiled for a little^ and we are left, it may be. to be 
 ' partakers/ though slightly, of the darkness that he 
 experienced in the extremity of his suffering for our 
 sakes; but it ill befits us to complain, to despond, to 
 doubt that ' his glory shall be revealed,' and l that 
 We shall also be glad in it with exceeding joy.' 3 
 These things should not move us out of our course 
 of duty or stay us in it; but, like the moon when 
 she suffers an eclipse, we should continue on, losing 
 no motion and no order, till we regain that presence 
 of which we are deprived, and which gives us alt 
 the glory we have, whether it be for our joy or fof 
 the light and comfort of others. We should be too- 
 simple to wonder, if we take alarm sometimes where 
 no danger is, and too knowing, though knowing so 
 little, to be confident in deciding against the good- 
 ness of measures, the reasons of which are hid in 
 the wisdom of God. Alas! that we should ever 
 in our troubles charge God foolishly, and quickly 
 conclude that all these things are against us. They 
 come not because God is willing to afflict, but to 
 expose our dangers and defeat our foes. They 
 i 1 Pet. iv. 12. 2 Ibid. 13. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 70 
 
 Would call us off from the world, take away our 
 false dependencies, and make us confess that 'all 
 our springs,' those of comfort, as well as those of 
 strength, are ' in him.' 1 So great is the pride and 
 w-eakness of nature, that we but deceive ourselves, 
 if we think it safe to have much of the world in our 
 hands. Our glory is to live above it, and to do this 
 is to ' live by faith on the Son of God,' for c this is 
 our victory over the world, even oUr faith.' Faith 
 |3uts down the world, by spreading over it the glory 
 of Christ, the bright shadowing of * better things to 
 come.* But the World, rising up, fastens on our 
 pride, drives us from a throne of grace, and causes 
 Us to come to God, it come We do, with greater 
 thoughts of ourselves than of him, and no Wonder 
 we go away without comfort; for 1 ' God resisteth 
 the proud, and giveth grace only to the humble.' 2 
 We are thus left to our complaints, without conso- 
 lation and without freedom, while the thoughts and 
 affections of the truly humble and faithful, escape 
 from the solitude and constraint of earth, like birds 
 released from their cage, and lose themselves in the 
 lustre and expanse of a native heaven. As the 
 shaken tree roots deeper, as the blast that beats down 
 the flame causes it to rise higher, so they, when 
 brought low by adversity, mount Upward, and, when 
 1 Psal. lxxxvii. 7. 2 James iv. 6. 
 
SO POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 shaken by the storms, bind themselves closer to the 
 rock they are resting on. They have the victory 
 through our Lord Jesus Christ, and come what will, 
 come sorrow and bereavement, come sickness and 
 death, they are never vanquished. He that is in 
 them is ' greater than all.' Such is the reasoning 
 and the operation of faith. It does not estimate the 
 events of life, according to the suggestions of a world- 
 ly policy. Nothing more strongly indicates the fatal 
 prevalence of unbelief, than a restless, complaining 
 spirit. Such a mind can hardly have the persuasion 
 there is a God; much less can it have a due impres- 
 sion of his perfections. It feels all the insecurity 
 and has all the trouble it would, if God had made 
 no promises, and exerted no wisdom and power to 
 bring all things to a just and happy consummation. 
 How vain the resources, how dread the comforts 
 of a faithless mind ! and that mind is essentially 
 faithless that cannot find repose in the arms of a 
 universal Providence, and rejoice to feel its care 
 and own its control. Hanging our hopes on the 
 Lord, and with affections deeply, sweetly rooted in 
 his truth and perfections, he will be to the soul in 
 all troubles, as a great shade in a weary land, and as 
 the morning upon the face of nature, both its joy 
 and its glory. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 81 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Moral worth of incidental actions and opinions — Their peculiarity with 
 reference to the objects of faith — Proper estimate of worldly inte- 
 rests — Singularity of religious indecision — Its contrariety to reason 
 and analogy — Casual devotion — Its absurdity — Its action consider- 
 ed as the cause and fruit of infidelity — All true faith considered 
 as necessarily influential in proportion to the value of its object — 
 Prevalent inattention to the Scriptures — Connexion between faith 
 and knowledge — Infidelity of those who give but a casual atten- 
 tion to religion — Their hope — Their conduct contrasted with their 
 faith and caution in business affairs — Their singular inconsist- 
 ency — The faith and practice of a nominal believer compared 
 with those of a professed infidel — What there is to choose between 
 them — Religious pretenders — Their liability to self-delusion from 
 the facility with which they gain credit. 
 
 Actions incidentally and coldly performed, opi- 
 nions which, like the features of the face, are ours 
 without our volition, and to which we are chiefly 
 partial because they are ours, though ours in a way 
 which we cannot account for, have little worth in 
 them. They are merely accidents of the mind. 
 There is neither faith, nor heart, nor reason in them. 
 Neither are they instinctive, for instinctive actions 
 and desires have a suitable end; but these seem to 
 have no end at all; none, truly, which they aspire to 
 with that consistency which should entitle them to 
 the dignity of being designed. Still the religious 
 
S2 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 acts and opinions of many seem to be of this charac- 
 ter. It is no uncommon thing for persons, without 
 any consciousness of the process, to confound truth 
 and error, reason and fancy; to take the flashes of 
 the animal spirits for the light of evidence; to think 
 they believe things to be true or false, when they 
 only fancy them to be so, and fancy them to be so, 
 only because they would have them so, or, what is 
 easier, because such is the fancy of others. Such 
 persons have an accidental faith and religion — con- 
 veniences that never stand in the way of their de- 
 sires. 
 
 But what renders this peculiarity worthy of par- 
 ticular consideration is, that it respects matters 
 which they confess to be of greater importance than 
 any other, and matters too whose nature and excel- 
 lency must strongly engage the heart which they 
 engage at all, because the heart will love something 
 strongly and can find nothing else that will bear a 
 comparison with them — nothing, indeed, which they 
 do not make a trifle, or at least convert into a mere 
 hint of the good they contain — causing it, whether 
 by its worthlessness or value, to point to themselves, 
 as the greatest and worthiest objects of our desire 
 and search. That from persons so considering them, 
 these objects so transcendent and inviting that they 
 must needs transport whom they engage, should 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 83 
 
 receive only a casual attention, a respect so much 
 below what they pay to other things that it seems 
 more like an intentional slight, than a conscious ob- 
 servation of them — is a singularity in the practice 
 of rational creatures, which no philosophy could lead 
 us to presume, and no discretion allow us to credit, 
 if we did not see it daily before our eyes. 
 
 A just and rational appreciation of these objects 
 does not indeed hinder our paying to worldly ad- 
 vantages a due regard, neither despising nor adoring 
 them; not slighting their use in the present state 
 nor letting them abate our ardour for the more ex- 
 cellent glory and riches of another; not depending 
 on them for distinction and happiness, but looking 
 to them as means of doing good; not lifted up by 
 the influence and respect which they procure, so as 
 to despise others, or fall into the weakness of esteem- 
 ing ourselves made regal and absolute by them, as 
 petty princes often are, by the cringing and service 
 of minions, of whom it is hardly a degradation to 
 affect to be their creatures, but still, whose import- 
 ance is shown to better advantage in the event, than 
 that of their masters who take their consequence 
 from it, and are induced thereby to set an unnatural 
 value upon their smiles and lay claim to that 
 homage from equals which could only be their due 
 as the creators of them. If religion did wholly 
 
84 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 and arbitrarily withdraw men from the pursuit of 
 worldly interests, it would be strange, as things are, 
 if they did not act counter to it; but, when it only 
 claims to regulate that pursuit and to turn those in- 
 terests to the best account, making them all subser- 
 vient to ends which are acknowledged to be unspeak- 
 ably more important, yet abstracting nothing from 
 the enjoyment of them here; it is passing strange 
 it should set so lightly on their minds, that they 
 scarcely know if there be any such thing, and con- 
 cern themselves as little to secure it, as if it were 
 but a mere shadow of the good which they so 
 eagerly seek from this troubled and uncertain world. 
 There must be some cause of this, different from 
 any to which it is usually referred. Their conduct 
 with respect to all other objects, bears some analogy 
 to their professed convictions; but this, confessedly 
 the most adorable and worthy object, is contem- 
 plated, if contemplated at all, with a kind of irreso- 
 lution which as properly bespeaks their dread as 
 their desire of it — their desire, as fearing they may 
 need it — their dread, as not relishing its excellence, 
 and as having insulted and forfeited it by a practical 
 preference of other interests which they dare not 
 profess to esteem before it — leaving them in a state 
 of indecision, wherein their thoughts reach not to 
 it, and rest so easily with them, that a mere profes- 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 85 
 
 sion of regard to it comes in their view to compen- 
 sate for the want of regard itself. 
 
 This singularity of which we are speaking, is 
 often found in the character of men who are so very 
 moral in most respects, that it would seem hardy to 
 deem them irreligious. But, as God has given rea- 
 son only to man, thus making him a noble and know- 
 ing creature, it is very singular that man should em- 
 ploy that reason in all his moral and social actions 
 and duties, and yet only do the acts of God's worship 
 and service with indifferency of mind, or when some 
 great event or calamity rouses him to it; that he 
 should perform his relative duties, his duties to man 
 with such design and constancy, as that his whole life 
 may be compared to a volume written with forecast 
 of the ends it should answer, while the thoughts and 
 acts which signify any recognition of God and his 
 claims, are but the parentheses which might be left 
 out without breaking the sense, and, we might add, 
 without so much as blemishing the morality of the 
 author. Such casual thoughts and devotions do 
 less honour than injure so worthy an object as they 
 aspire to: they do greatly affront the Divine Ma- 
 jesty by denying to him the chief homage of that 
 faculty in the bestowing of which he has chiefly ho- 
 noured us; they would even degrade him below 
 ourselves, by apportioning to him less care and 
 8 
 
S6 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 respect than are given to his creatures; paltry, cost- 
 less things that they are, they would take the place 
 of faith and devotion, when they have not so much 
 of the grace of consideration and design, as is ex- 
 pressed in an idle mimickry of them. They indeed 
 evince such indifference to man's most weighty con- 
 cerns, such misplacing of his affections, as would 
 leave it in doubt, if we knew nothing more of him, 
 whether he be a rational creature or no: for to be 
 *ble to think of God as a being proper to worship; 
 to be capable of a religious sentiment, of a spiritual 
 advancement and attend no more to it; to trust all 
 which he owns to be most important to casual 
 thoughts, thoughts which he neither bids nor heeds, 
 is such an impertinence, rather such an impersonal- 
 ity of mind, that as in the stare of idiocy, we cannot 
 tell whether there be thought in it, or whether it be 
 a mere animal surprise. 
 
 Such absence of reason and consideration in the 
 practice of man in reference to this subject, while 
 in theory he acknowledges its incomparable import- 
 ance, and while he is lively to the obligation, and 
 thoughtful in the discharge, of his relative duties, is 
 not to be accounted for without the supposition of 
 that darkness and unbelief of mind which shuts out 
 from the soul all communion with God and all sen- 
 sible realization of his truth. He acts a part so un- 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 87 
 
 suitable to his nature and interests, that we should 
 consider it, if our views were straight on this sub- 
 ject, proof of the greatest weakness and self-decep- 
 tion, if not of something worse and wilder On 
 matters of astounding moment he now wills; in an 
 instant he wills not; in another he knows not whe- 
 ther he wills or no. He importantly aims at no- 
 thing, and to nothing comes. He lives and dies 
 unimproved by the experience of others, and unim- 
 proving others by his own. Such indecision, such 
 an end in relation to the affairs of the world, would 
 indicate an abandonment of our proper nature, and 
 whatever we may think of it as affecting the higher 
 concerns of eternity, certain it is that it cannot be 
 the fruit of considering them; and not to consider 
 them, when we admit our high concernment in 
 them, and are summoned to it by so many argu- 
 ments of invitation and as with the alarm-voice 
 of the spirit within us and of all nature around us, 
 is to despise and reject them as in our slumbers, and 
 to become infidels, if not by the action of our rea- 
 son, yet by the chance of our indifference. 
 
 Such treatment of the claims of religion is the 
 direct effect of infidelity; and this conviction must be 
 theirs who will consider not only what influence the 
 revealed will of God is entitled to have, but what it 
 actually has, on minds that believe it. Men are 
 
SS POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 universally curious to look into futurity, and to 
 know something of their condition after death; and 
 nothing could be more worthy, or better adapted, to 
 sway their conduct, than a thorough persuasion of 
 the truth of the revelation which God has made on 
 this subject. When they come to this understand- 
 ing, and see their immortal interests side by side 
 with those of time; when they/ee/ that there is but 
 a step between them and the full reality, but an un- 
 certain period, (and that short at longest and unsatis- 
 fying at best,) between them and their eternal sepa- 
 ration from every thing the heart attaches to here, 
 except what God has approved and set apart for 
 heaven, — they will feel the actuating spirit of the 
 word, and if they do not 6 become whole,' 1 will at 
 least be willing to consider and < do many things.' 2 
 But, as the case often stands, they come far short of 
 this: they honour the subject only with casual no- 
 tices; they want, indeed, the sensibility and pur- 
 pose about it of the judge (have they more merit 
 than he?) who said within himself, ' Though I fear 
 not God, nor regard man; yet, because this widow 
 troubleth me, I will avenge her; I will do what is 
 right in her case, that I may be rid of her importu- 
 nity.' 3 Awakened sinners sometimes attempt to 
 procure relief to a troubled conscience on this prin- 
 1 John v. 4. 2 Mark vi. 20. 3 Luke xviii. 4, 5. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 89 
 
 tiple; they do some proper things as with impa- 
 tience to have them out of mind; but those now 
 under consideration are not awakened; they are not 
 troubled with their sins, and of consequence do lit* 
 tie or nothing to procure peace by good works. 
 They have good works to be sure, but, as we have 
 remarked, their works point not to God, but to their 
 credit and influence in the world, to the endowment 
 and happiness of relatives and friends; and not to a 
 preparation of themselves and others for heaven, by 
 the control and subversion of sin in the heart. 
 
 All belief concerning matters of importance, espe- 
 cially if matters necessarily affecting us, or affording 
 the means of securing any desirable object, will 
 always have much influence on a sound mind; and 
 this is not more true with respect to any thing than 
 the truths of religion. These truths are also aided in 
 the impression which they are adapted to make, by 
 the conscience of man, and by the necessity of his 
 nature for the instruction and relief which they fur- 
 nish. Any such credit of them, as men usually give 
 to facts and statements in the history of very distant 
 times and countries, would cause them to take an 
 important place in their thoughts; for it is not ne- 
 cessary that they should love the truth, in order to 
 feel it, any more than it is necessary that they 
 8* 
 
&0 POPULAR tNFIDELlTlf. 
 
 should love the sun, in order to be apprized of its 
 heat. Our love of an object will, indeed, increase 
 the influence of our faith in it, by disposing us to 
 entertain it in our minds, and by sweetly confirm* 
 ing our experience of it; but there are some objects 
 so immense and glorious that, when we really credit 
 their existence, though we should not be well disposed 
 towards them, they will take hold of us in so many 
 Ways that we shall find it difficult to escape from 
 them; and the very effort to do so> may make u3 
 more sensible of our trouble, as he Would be, who 
 should shut his eyes to rid himself of a pain, or run 
 to get out of the light of day. It is, therefore, evi- 
 dent that such persons, as we have described, do not 
 credit the stupendous truths of the gospel. They 
 only thtnk they do. They are not indeed infidels 
 on the ground of reflection and evidence, and per^ 
 haps, if they should attempt to be, it would result 
 in convincing them that they are so from the want 
 of it. But it is one thing to haVe infidelity in the 
 heart, guarding as ' a strong man armed* against the 
 entrance of truth, and another thing to have admit-* 
 ted it there, with such Understanding as that we can 
 give a reason of it. They have Clearly not done 
 this: still they are not alive to the great and affect* 
 Ing truths of religion j and their conduct, contrasted 
 
Poplar infidelity. 01 
 
 with that of those who are, shows that they have 
 come to doubt them by an easier way than that of 
 investigation. 
 
 We Can have no better proof of this, than their 
 habitual inattention to the record which God has 
 given of his Will. This record is as the letting 
 down of heaVen to earth, as the breaking out of a 
 Bun upon our darkness. It is the Very heart of love, 
 the mind o( God, Conveyed to us as With his owri 
 Voice in Jesus Christ. It has been the food and joy 
 of his people in every age. Of this We have a strik* 
 ing illustration In the eager desire manifested for the 
 Scriptures at an early period of the reformation m 
 England. " Entire copies of the Bible, When they 
 could only be multiplied by means of amanuenses, 
 Were too costly to be within the reach of very many 
 readers; but those Who could not procure the <vo* 
 lume of the Book,' would give a load of hay for a 
 few favourite chapters, and many Such scraps were 
 consumed upon the persons of the martyrs at the 
 stake. They would hide the forbidden treasure 
 under the floors of their houses, and put their lives 
 in peril, rather than forego the book they desired; 
 they would sit up all night, their doors being shut 
 for fear of surprise, reading or hearing others read 
 the word of God; they would bury themselves in 
 the woods, and there converse with it in solitude \ 
 
92 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 they would tend their herds in the fields, and still 
 steal an hour for drinking in the good tidings of 
 great joy: — thus was the angel come down to trou- 
 ble the water, and there was only wanted some pro- 
 vidential crisis to put the nation into it, that it might 
 be made whole." 1 This desire is not confined to 
 times of persecution. It is the outstanding distinc- 
 tion of all the saints who have their record in the 
 Bible, and the mark of all faithful people. They 
 delight in the Scriptures < after the inner man,' 
 make them their ' meditation all the day/ give 
 heed to them as to ' a light that shineth in a dark 
 place,' 2 ( get understanding through them, and there- 
 fore hate every false way.' And if they who pro- 
 fess to credit them, and yet give them only casual 
 thoughts, and, with perhaps the exception of the 
 lessons appointed for Sunday, read them less than 
 other books, and, when reading them, find no life, 
 nor sweetness, nor persuasion in them; if they who 
 take it for granted that they know them, and there- 
 fore do not seek to have an understanding in them, 
 would search into them, as into depths that con- 
 ceal the richest treasures, they would soon find c a 
 light from heaven, above the brightness of the sun, 
 shining round about them,' and hear ( a voice speak- 
 ing unto them,' (which now they do not so much as 
 1 Blunt's Sketch of the Reformation in England. 2 1 Pet. i. 19. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 93 
 
 fancy they hear,) and saying, * This is the way, walk 
 ye in it;' 1 ' Walk while ye have the light, lest dark- 
 ness come upon you.' 2 They would indeed feel 
 that 'the water was troubled' as with life from 
 above, and their drinking of it would be as the put- 
 ting on of immortality. The Scriptures have an 
 evidence in them which is not seen by glances; 
 they have a fire in them which must be mused upon, 
 before it will begin to burn; like the heavens, they 
 have lights and wonders in them which are not seen 
 by common gazers, and though they may receive 
 them from the report of others to whom they have 
 come as by observation, yet it is as things of which 
 they have no knowledge, and with which they have 
 no means of communication. 
 
 Casual thinkers on religious subjects know less 
 of the Scriptures than they suppose. There may 
 be nothing in them which they have not heard or 
 read, and yet scarcely any thing which they have 
 considered. Nothing important, nothing that im- 
 ports an increase of understanding, was ever ac- 
 quired in this way. So much wisdom on this 
 subject is taken for granted, that, like the knowledge 
 of ourselves, it is likely to be most defective when 
 it is deemed most complete. But faith and know- 
 ledge go 'Hand in hand,' and when one is indistinct, 
 'Isa. xxx. 21. 2 Johnxii. 35. 
 
94 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 both are. When we are content with guesses in 
 place of knowledge, our faith at most is but a 
 peradventure ; it is not the stay of the mind, but a 
 broken wing, which, while it indicates that we were 
 designed for noble flights, proves that we are disabled 
 for them. If it give a look towards God and duty, 
 it is as the look of < eyes which see not,' while the 
 secret current of feeling and influence sets all the 
 other way. This must be so, unless we have a faith 
 which prompts us to serve God, because we know 
 him, or to seek him, because we know him not. 
 Thus faith always runs either in or after knowledge, 
 and knowledge turns to a happy experience first, 
 and then to assurance and complete blessedness. 
 Hence to know God is to enjoy him by way of 
 experience, as well as ' to have eternal life' 1 by way 
 of reward. But to know him is first ' to know 
 Jesus Christ whom he hath sent ;' for < no man 
 knoweth who the Father is but the Son, and he 
 to whom the Son will reveal him.' 2 He has 
 spoken and acted out his will in our nature; he 
 is the 'way, the truth, and the life, and to as 
 many as receive him, he gives power to become 
 the sons of God.' To know him, then, is to know 
 God, and know him, too, in a way that is as obliging 
 as it is condescending, and should be as grateful as 
 1 John xxii. 3. Comp. Rom. ii. 23. 2 Luke x. 22. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 95 
 
 it is honourable to our nature. Truly it is no diffi- 
 cult science which we are to learn, no cold abstrac- 
 tion which we are to study, but the simple truth, — 
 the life coming to us all animated as with our own 
 sympathies, — nothing but an experience which we 
 are to make our own, and that, the experience of 
 the Father's Well-beloved, — blessed in him in all but 
 what he endured for our sakes, — in us blessed with 
 all the sweetening his love can give it, and ending in 
 * all the fulness of God!' It is this knowledge of 
 God which natural men have not ; and it is a great 
 aggravation of the guilt of their unbelief and hard- 
 ness, that it is a knowledge which is proposed to 
 them warm as with the kindliest affection for them, 
 and commended to them as a tried experience of 
 their necessities. Were there nothing tender and 
 lively in it, it would not be so strange, though strange 
 it were, that they should be unbelieving. But the 
 truth to be believed is as well adapted, as it is worthy, 
 to affect their hearts; and if they give it only a loose 
 and Unstudied entertainment, a forced and outward 
 obedience, it is the best possible proof that they do 
 as little know as believe it. They may have no 
 suspicion that they are ignorant of God. They may 
 have grown up with some vague impressions of his 
 being and attributes, which they dignify with the 
 name of knowledge, but, though the real 'sons of 
 
96 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 Eli,' they ' are the sons of Belial, who know not 
 the Lord.' 1 They walk in the vanity of their 
 minds, ( being alienated from the life of God 
 through the ignorance that is in them.' 2 To this 
 we are taught to ascribe ' the blindness of their 
 hearts,' and the unfruitfulness of their lives. They 
 are indeed alienated from God through ignorance. 
 This is the great cause of their unbelief and hardi- 
 ness in transgression ; and they must feel after him 
 by knowledge, before they can reasonably expect to 
 find him by faith. They must become ignorant 
 by a persuasion that they are so, before they can 
 become wise by an understanding of what wisdom 
 is. They must search the Scriptures if in them 
 they think they have eternal life, and through them 
 come first to the i break of day.' 
 
 After taking a view of the ' dark ages' in which 
 men were corrupted by ignorance, and content 
 with mere glimpses of knowledge, " what," says 
 Dr. Good, " is the upshot of the whole ? — the moral 
 that the survey inculcates? Distinctly this; a mo- 
 ral of the utmost moment, and imprinted on every 
 step we have trodden — that ignorance is ever asso- 
 ciated with wretchedness and vice, and knowledge 
 with virtue and happiness." This moral is as 
 clearly illustrated in the life of individuals as in 
 l 1 Sam. ii. 12. 2 Eph. iv. 18. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 97 
 
 the history of nations — in the experience of a single 
 Christian as in that of the church of Christ. Divine 
 truth, as imbodied and shadowed forth in the Scrip- 
 tures and in the lives of Christians, is the * salt of 
 the earth,' the * light of the world ;' and, where it 
 is not known and heeded, corruption and darkness 
 must prevail. The amount of its influence must 
 also depend upon the degree of attention that is 
 given to it. Cold and incurious thoughts will not 
 answer the purpose. There is a ' secret of the Lord* 
 in his word which does not come out of it unsought, 
 like a flash of lightning or a dash of rain from the 
 cloud. It is disclosed to waiting and attentive eyes, 
 not suddenly and fully, but by a way of gradual dif- 
 fusion which makes it more a part of ourselves, or 
 rather ourselves indeed, than our acquirement — we 
 being made thereby ' partakers of a divine nature.' 
 God does not intend that we shall have the best 
 things, if we will not ' search diligently until we find 
 them.' We are not to pass from poverty to riches, 
 from ignorance to knowledge, from a state of sin to 
 a state of faith and holiness, in a moment, and with- 
 out an effort. And were we as practical and wise 
 with respect to divine as other things, we should 
 not look for this latter change without great effort, 
 nor should we be deterred by that necessity from 
 
 applying our mind to it, unless indeed the object 
 9 
 
98 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 were deemed undeservable in comparison with 
 others. So that it is not the requisite effort that 
 deters us from the pursuit of divine knowledge, but 
 our low appreciation of it — our utter unbelief in 
 regard to the great interest we have in it. Were 
 there no want of faith in this latter sense, we should 
 soon know that, as * the kingdom of heaven suf- 
 fereth violence/ so do ' the violent take it by force.' 1 
 We should not wonder that we are required to do so 
 much, but that so much may be gained by the little 
 that we can do. We should not so easily satisfy 
 ourselves with the acting of religion on holy days, 
 and in an outward compliance with its forms and 
 customs. We should not find it so difficult to call 
 off our thoughts from the world, and to turn them to 
 heaven with designs and desires carrying us there. 
 Our first wonder would be that there is a heaven 
 for us, — our greater wonder, that it should be pro- 
 cured at an expense so great that we cannot tell 
 which is greatest, the love which bore it, or the 
 guilt which made it necessary. Our strongest de- 
 sire to be there would be that we may ' be for ever 
 with the Lord,' who is such, and could love us so, 
 that our loving him is not so much his will, as our 
 privilege, and not so much his glory, as we would 
 make it ours. Faith indeed would set every thing 
 1 Matt. xi. 12. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 99 
 
 right in the dispensations and requirements of God, 
 and make religion, not our trouble and hinderance, 
 but our help and delight — the work and end for 
 which we came into the world. It would not suffer 
 us to ' halt between two opinions,' or to be without 
 any opinion at all ; to be satisfied with occasional 
 compunctions and partial reformations; to be scared 
 from one indulgence by fear, and tempted from 
 another by interest, and allied to others by inclina- 
 tion; to talk devotion and humility, and yet, without 
 discomposure, to retain pride and to practise self- 
 interest. It is a modest grace, which, while it con- 
 fides in the promises of God, blushes with the shame, 
 and labours with the distrust, of a wicked and deceit- 
 ful heart. It is satisfied only with the complete 
 likeness of its object. 
 
 How different then is the work of faith from the 
 conduct of those whose character has been under 
 review! Giving to the truths and duties of religion 
 but an outside and casual respect, they live in an in- 
 curious, ignorant, and unrelenting condition. They 
 are not sufficiently conversant with them to imbibe 
 any influence from them, nor sufficiently thoughtful 
 of them to have any certain persuasion of their 
 obligation. Persons of this description have various 
 shades of character. In some infidelity is more 
 speculative ; in others there seems to be little 
 
100 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 speculation about it, and it only shows itself in the 
 pernicious fruits of their lives and manners; but 
 we 'know them all by their fruits.' They are found 
 everywhere in the ranks of those who speak favour- 
 ably of Christianity, who attend places of worship, 
 and who alike feel themselves insulted and scan- 
 dalized when they are charged with infidelity; yet 
 nothing is more just. We need not, and they need 
 not, be mistaken. There is no profit in delusion. 
 There is no charity in concealing the truth. Infi- 
 delity runs in their speculations, oozes up in their 
 worldly musings, and comes fully out in their drift 
 and habits. The religion of the best of them 
 amounts only to a state of indifference and luke- 
 warmness; but the worst have too much moderation 
 and taste in sinning to ' glory in their shame,' or to 
 ' suffer the sickness of their drunkenness, and yet call 
 it pleasure:' they are not so far gone in iniquity; but 
 with respect to the infidelity of all, we may say what 
 was said, by one 1 of their own number, of the popes 
 of Rome: "No man looks for holiness in the bishops 
 of Rome ; those are the best popes who are not 
 extremely wicked." They all have a certain faith, 
 and the chief mischief of their state is, that they 
 seem to think that if they were infidels, they should 
 
 1 Papirius Massonius. — See Jeremy Taylor's Sermon on Growth 
 in Grace. 
 
TOPULAR INFIDELITY. 101 
 
 have no faith at all. This is a great mistake. They 
 would then, as now, believe and not tremble, have 
 convictions, and presumptions, and hopes (all dis- 
 turbers only) of acquaintance and happiness with 
 God, while wrapt in their own darkness, and loving 
 that darkness well. They must look elsewhere, if 
 they would find a difference between themselves and 
 professed infidels. They are on the same track 
 with them here, and the only difference is, that some 
 have the start of others. 
 
 This conclusion will be confirmed by a more par- 
 ticular view of their conduct. If we analyze their 
 hope, it will be found like their worship, a casualty, 
 an incident like our thousand wishes, that come and 
 go we cannot tell why or whither. Such wishes are 
 the drones that feed on our stores, but add nothing 
 to them. They return empty from all their excur- 
 sions; and so the hope of many not only does not 
 work any good, but hinders them from working any, 
 by imposing on them the belief that it does. It 
 not only lives at their expense, but it reconciles 
 them to remain out of true possession, by keeping 
 in their view the deceitful colours of the prospect. 
 While they recede from it by the visible bias and 
 action of their spirits, its false lights beguile them 
 to think they are drawing near to it. Its reasoning 
 is: I shall be happy hereafter in him towards whom 
 9* 
 
102 POPULAR IXFIDELITT. 
 
 I live in habitual disaffection now. I shall covet 
 then that glorious Presence which now I do not so 
 much as seek, and cannot so much as enjoy. I can 
 be happy in him whom I do not love, and love 
 whom I do not know. I depend upon his favour, 
 but my Way of inviting and securing it is to live 
 as without him; to keep myself a stranger to him 
 while he gives me good things to enjoy, and to fly 
 to him at last, when nothing else is left to lean upon. 
 I would remain as I am, but, as I cannot, I am 
 willing, when I must go, to be taken to the bliss 
 of heaven, and, though that be not bliss to me 
 now, I can trust to his mercy to make it so then. 
 In this distant region where his communications 
 are obscure and restrained, I see that his goodness 
 abounds, and why should I doubt, when the time for 
 full rewards and disclosures shall come, that it will 
 much more abound ; that it will at least then meet the 
 new and peculiar exigencies of creatures for whom 
 now he provides with a father- s care, not discrimi- 
 nating between the evil and the good, but embracing 
 them all as children, erring children, yet children still? 
 Such is their case. They are believers and doers 
 of 'many things.' Their condition differs little from 
 the common state of the unconverted, and that dif- 
 ference, with respect to great numbers, is to their 
 advantage. We are, then, concerned to understand 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 103 
 
 their faith, and to fix a definite character upon it 
 This we may be aided to do by considering the 
 correspondence between their faith and practice in 
 worldly business. We see nothing left to chance 
 here, and nothing done, without a designing and 
 adapting of means to ends. They consider the ne- 
 cessities of the country, and the places where their 
 business will be most likely to succeed. They watch 
 the changes in the market, the signs of the times, the 
 agitations and revolutions of governments, the suc- 
 cess or failure of those around them, prying into the 
 causes of each, and taking every warning and ad- 
 vantage from them, in the management of their own 
 affairs. In this way they acquire a business-faith, 
 which is based upon reasonable evidence — a busi- 
 ness-caution, which shows their profiting by the 
 skill, the rashness, or miscarriage of others — and a 
 business-discernment, which qualifies them to detect 
 good and evil in their signs. And they act out 
 these acquirements ; they measure their steps, and 
 consider the effect of each on the event of their 
 affairs; they see quickly where to apply their force, 
 and their zeal, their activity, quickens with every 
 new proof that it will accomplish its design. If they 
 meditate changes in their residence, their employ 
 ment, or their style of living, they study into the 
 present and future consequences, and endeavour to 
 
104 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 adapt their tastes and habits to them ; if they are to 
 come into the presence of wise men or princes, they 
 are intent to know how they shall speak, and carry 
 themselves suitably to their character and station, 
 not seeming to be unapprized of their own inferior 
 ity, nor affronting the dignity which they wish to 
 propitiate ; if a great end is to be gained by extra 
 ordinary effort, or the most difficult adventures are 
 believed likely to lead on to fortune or other dis- 
 tinction, they run the greatest hazards, endure the 
 greatest hardships, traverse continents, cross oceans, 
 (asking perhaps the prayers of the church, and so 
 far well doing, yet asking it for a safe conduct in 
 securing temporal advantages, when they seldom 
 think, and might scorn perhaps, to ask the same 
 assistance to secure eternal,) and do all things with 
 a care and sagacity well worthy of rational beings: 
 but how changed, how adverse to this, is the opera- 
 tion of their faith in spiritual concerns! Professing 
 to admit their claim upon their first attention, and 
 their unequalled value to themselves, yet putting 
 them off with occasional thoughts, suffering the re- 
 membrance of them to be merged in the stream of 
 other imaginations, or perhaps bidding them begone, 
 in impatience of their restraints ; expecting, they 
 know not how soon, to enter into the bright pre- 
 sence of God, angels, and just spirits, and to have their 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 105 
 
 heaven in a holy communion with them, yet omit- 
 ting every preparation for it, and not even inquiring 
 how they shall deport themselves before the Majesty 
 on high, or conform to the services and usages of his 
 court; believing that after death the greatest possi- 
 ble change will take place in their residence, their 
 enjoyments, their pursuits, yet not caring to temper 
 and mould themselves to it, but rushing upon that 
 which is of the greatest interest to them, as if they 
 had no part in it, or shutting their eyes to the event, 
 when its shadows come over them and its steady 
 approach cannot be doubted : never, indeed, com- 
 puting their advances, as well pleased to be receding 
 from, as approaching to, their object; never heeding 
 the port or surprisal of the multitude, but walking 
 with composure after them, though their lights are 
 going out in despair by the way ; never acquiring 
 any faith, any caution, any discernment in spiritual 
 things ; in nothing manifesting the thought, the 
 engagedness, the resolution with which they pursue 
 the world, but all the capabilities of spiritual life 
 sinking and dying within them (as before the time) 
 without so much as the appearance of a death-strug- 
 gle or a death-sigh for better things! 
 
 If a man should conduct thus in his temporal 
 affairs, all would say he had no faith in the success 
 of his exertions, or did not value the objects to be 
 
106 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 gained by them. But should he claim to believe 
 that all worldly advantages were within his reach, 
 and to set the highest value upon them, and yet 
 conduct in this manner, we should either set him 
 down for a blockhead, a deranged person, or one 
 who had added to the want of such faith the hypo- 
 crisy of professing to have it. And should he set 
 up in some particular business, and give only casual 
 thoughts to it, never seeming to make it the object 
 of pursuit, or to be concerned whether he prospered 
 in it or no, and yet claim credit from others on the 
 ground of such business so attended to, he would 
 not only be distrusted, but, if he persevered in this 
 course, denounced as desiring to conceal his evil con- 
 dition, and to contract debts which he had not the 
 means or expectation of discharging. With what 
 grace, then, does he ask us to give him credit for 
 faith in the gospel, who leaves his whole concern 
 in it 'at loose ends,' and is content to float upon 
 the stream that is bearing him from God, with a 
 force that increases with the distance, and will soon 
 make his return impossible? Why should he not 
 be considered and treated as an infidel ? Has he a 
 kind of faith in these things? So has the infidel, but 
 nobody can tell what it is, or what it does, in either 
 case, — unless, indeed, it deters them both, like the 
 faith of failing tradesmen, from looking into their 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 107 
 
 affairs, lest they should have a fuller view of their 
 ruin. It is not a faith which breeds caution and 
 solicitude, but that improvidence which shuts its 
 eyes and concludes, if conclude it ever does, to take 
 things as they come. Infidelity in both is, as ever, 
 a lazy, dreamy vice ; in quiet the most stupid, in 
 rage the most terrible of creatures, but, what is 
 remarkable, blind alike in its rage and mildness. 
 But we see nothing in them of the grace of faith, 
 that birth of intelligence, which, fixing its far-reach- 
 ing eye on things not discernible by sense, admits 
 now, of a repose that is sweet and lively, and now, 
 of an excitement that is great and burning, yet in 
 order but as reason, and in noise but as light in 
 motion. If we judge of them by their spirit, we 
 see no difference ; if by their works, we see both 
 breaking the same ground, and looking for the same 
 increase. Both ' sow to the flesh, and of the flesh 
 reap corruption' daily and visibly. Both are self- 
 confident, self-complacent, indisposed to devotion, 
 and < trusting in themselves that they are righteous.' 
 Both are disposed to carry this impression as far 
 as they can, and when they make it succeed with 
 men, to take that for an argument that it will 
 pass for a reality with God. Both are the willing 
 dupes of c an evil heart of unbelief,' and, in spiritual 
 matters, c grope as if they had no eyes.' Both have 
 
108 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 a price all price beyond, put into their hands to get 
 wisdom — the one openly discrediting its value, and 
 thinking himself wise and good enough without it — 
 the other putting upon it all manner of professed 
 respect, and acknowledging bis folly and destitution 
 without it, yet burying it in the earth as a talent 
 which he cares not to employ; and, if neither the 
 priest nor the Levite, but < a certain Samaritan' was 
 ' neighbour to him that fell among thieves,' which 
 of these is the believer? Which treats his Lord 
 with most reverence — he that discredits the gift and 
 his need of it, or he that professes to credit both and 
 does not act conformably to either? he who rejects 
 the offer which he thinks made to him without 
 authority, or he who affects to receive it as of the 
 authority which it claims, and yet never attempts to 
 possess himself of the good it proposes? Which 
 has the most fear of God — he that sins largely as 
 doubting his word, or he that deliberately sins 
 enough as believing it to incur his just displeasure 
 forever? he that sees God as angry with the wicked 
 every day, and is every day sinning, or he that sees 
 him only as indifferent to human actions, and con- 
 tinues to do what he will? Which should we think 
 the better man — he who receives our bounties and 
 favours as thinking they came from us, yet never 
 returns any thanks or discharges any obligation 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 109 
 
 they lay on him, or he that receives them, as he 
 does the showers of heaven, by the chance or right 
 of his condition, and as little thinks of his duty to 
 us as of the clouds that, without mind, drop down 
 the rain? he that pays us an external respect and 
 deference because he thinks it shall profit him, or 
 he that passes us by as though we were not, and is 
 as regardless of his own interests as of our rights ? 
 What, indeed, shall we think of the faith of those 
 who give to the commands of God but an incidental 
 and unstudied obedience? who believe too much, 
 or rather cannot doubt enough to enable them to 
 discard him from their thoughts altogether, and yet 
 are content with thoughts which have no motive to 
 his glory, and do as little restrain and temper them 
 as honour him? who take credit to themselves for 
 acknowledging obligations to which their whole life 
 is as an act of untiring resistance? who entertain 
 him in their loneliness, not as a friend from whom 
 they have nothing to conceal, with confidence and 
 affection, but as a stranger of doubtful appearance, 
 with coldness, with suspicion, and dread? What, 
 indeed, shall we think of those who can contemplate 
 (believingly, as they say) the most affecting and 
 worthy objects ' without any thoughts arising in 
 their hearts?' who can move on, already in the 
 10 
 
110 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 < shadow of death,' with eyes open on eternity, 
 while the question of their love to God hangs in 
 doubt, and this, though they cannot tell which is 
 the most wonderful, the greatness of his love to 
 them, or the happy and glorious effects and issues 
 of their loving him? who have it in their faith, 
 that he is 'a consuming fire' to the wicked, and 
 yet, without any invitation or permission to treat 
 with him in their own persons, venture before him 
 with a plea of personal merit, with a price in their 
 hand, the hire of service, which is to buy them 
 pardon and eternal life, — thus making his wisdom 
 foolishness, and dispensing with the atonement and 
 offices of his Son? — and this, too, when it is another 
 part of their faith to depend solely on him ; to 
 believe that many who i in that day cry Lord, Lord, 
 have we not prophesied in thy name? and in thy 
 name done many wonderful works?' shall, as at the 
 very entrance of heaven, find destruction bursting 
 upon them from the words, * I never knew you : 
 depart from me.' You have slighted my blood, 
 my grace, my promises, my infinite compassions, 
 and now come with the offering of your merits in 
 their place. I have wrought out for you a perfect 
 righteousness, and, not accepting it, you have gone 
 about to establish a righteousness of your own. I 
 have borne the punishment of your sins, but you 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. Ill 
 
 have not borne my cross, and you can have no part 
 in my joy and glory. 
 
 All the analogies of human conduct lead us to infer, 
 and we should not be surprised to find, that deception 
 is sometimes practised in religion. If men can gain 
 any advantage by it, it is not reasonable to suppose 
 that they will abstain from it in this any more than 
 in other cases. If they will do penance, cut and 
 deform their bodies, perform pilgrimages, persecute 
 and put to death < the saints of the Most High' and 
 think they do him acceptable services, why should 
 it be doubted that they may do much to work out 
 a righteousness of their own, make c long prayers' 
 and a great show of humility and zeal, by which the 
 same end is to be effected with less expense and less 
 pain to nature, when they have not a particle of the 
 spirit of the Master they affect to serve ? All, no 
 doubt, do something in this way; but the wonder is 
 that they do no more; though doing less or more 
 would leave them alike faithless. The omission is 
 only to be accounted for on the ground of their 
 disrelish to spiritual virtues, and of the little profit 
 they derive from the credit of them. Still, a self- 
 righteous, and therefore a faithless spirit, actuates 
 the religion of many. Caring much for the re- 
 putation, and something for the reality, of piety, 
 without perhaps intending deception they come by 
 
112 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 degrees to claim stoutly the excellence which others, 
 in their charity, presume them to have. No one is 
 disposed to call in question their Christian preten- 
 sions; and being without that brokenness of heart 
 and faith in Christ which cause them to fly from them- 
 selves for support and direction, they walk in the 
 sight of their own eyes, and take the outside for the 
 inward life of religion. This they can maintain 
 without any modification of their natural desires; 
 and, as it procures for them some peace of con- 
 science, and much confidence and credit with others, 
 no wonder if they trust it, value it, and think it 
 acceptable to God, to whose perfections they are as 
 blind, as to the miseries and plagues of an unsancti- 
 fied heart. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 113 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Error in estimating our own qualities a cause of our misconceiving 
 the divine perfections — Obstacles to correct views of ourselves — 
 Readiness with which men confess the evil of their hearts — Pro- 
 cess by which men are reconciled to evil ways — Causes which 
 perpetuate this delusion — Their unobserved operation — Tendency 
 of worldly companions and amusements to foster infidelity — This 
 danger inferred from our mental constitution — Presumption of 
 those who disregard it — Delicacy of religious sentiment — Its easy 
 decay — Peril of virtue and faith where the influence of religion 
 is discouraged — Great changes in moral character occurring 
 without our notice — Blindness to the infidelity consequent upon 
 them — Difficulty of breaking from worldly society — Things im- 
 plied in our attachment to it — The prospect presented to the 
 mind — Worldliness — Practical atheism — Peculiar dangers of 
 youth — Whether religion is an easy practice — What is essential 
 to make it so — Its nature — Its requisitions agreeable to the truest 
 philosophy. 
 
 We have hitherto considered the influence of the 
 depravity of our nature on our judgment and prac- 
 tice, with reference chiefly to the duties which we owe 
 to God. This, too* is the principal ohject of every 
 part of the present discussion. But whatever leads 
 to such errors, either of opinion or practice, as we 
 have contemplated, must evidently be the cause of 
 great errors in our estimate of our own character. 
 Indeed errors in the faith and practice of religion 
 10* 
 
J 1 4 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 always presuppose errors in our judgment of our- 
 selves, if they do not proceed from them. We must 
 rightly understand our own character, or we never 
 can rightly understand the character of God and the 
 wisdom and fitness of his proceedings with us. 
 That, which is most apt to betray us into self-delu- 
 sion, will be a chief cause of error in the concerns 
 of religion. It is therefore pertinent to our object 
 to consider the influence of our depravity on our 
 views of ourselves. The mistakes of this descrip- 
 tion, which we may be able to detect, will assist us 
 to determine what confidence we should have in the 
 purity and adequacy of our conceptions of the moral 
 perfections of God. The question for our decision 
 will be whether, if erring and partial in our views 
 of our own moral qualities, we shall be likely to be 
 correct and impartial in our estimate of the require- 
 ments of the divine law? 
 
 A general obstacle to correct views of ourselves, 
 as well as of God, is our self-ignorance; and this is 
 ignorance which we are naturally too indolent to 
 discover, and too self-complacent to suspect, before 
 some glaring evidence of it has been forced upon the 
 mind. Our intimacy with the subject seems to us to 
 suppose knowledge, — and inquiry and solicitude are 
 therefore not entertained ; and what is most easy and 
 necessary to be learned remains unknown. For this 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 115 
 
 reason, our knowledge of subjects rarely presented 
 to the mind, and requiring much investigation to be 
 understood, is often more perfect than our know- 
 ledge of those with which we are more familiar, 
 and which may be more easily investigated ; and 
 as this ignorance is shameless, because common, 
 and grateful, because it keeps us in favour with our- 
 selves, it is no wonder if we assume the credit, while 
 we are destitute of the life and proper operation, of 
 knowledge. He, whose religion is something better 
 than profaneness, will not find it difficult to be- 
 lieve that he is both good and knowing indeed, 
 if they, whose hearts and heads he studies in the 
 inferences of their conduct, can have countenance 
 for these qualities ; and this too, when they show in 
 nothing that they have them not so much as in the 
 extravagance of their pretending to them — adding 
 to their destitution of the qualities so great dulness 
 in the perception of them, that they need but to 
 know them to be convinced that they have them 
 not. 
 
 There is one thing with which we may always be 
 familiar, which may be seen in every individual 
 about us as in a glass, which shares in all our cares 
 and affections and runs in every thing we do; and, 
 though there be nothing more important for us to 
 know well, there is yet nothing of which we gene- 
 
116 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 rally know so little. It is that self, busy and present 
 in every thing,— that strangely anxious, yet more 
 strangely improvident presence which works such 
 wonders on us, and such suspicions in us, which in 
 others flatters us to discern' our weakness, and in 
 ourselves flatters us to conceal it ; in them praises 
 us barely to hide the envy which dreads our dis- 
 covery, and in ourselves detects the secret, yet 
 glories in the praise; in them makes our opinion 
 the test of what is fit and noble, while it affects to 
 be indifferent to all opinions but its own, and both 
 in them and us smiling at the parts which others act, 
 but acting the same with scarcely any consciousness 
 of its own doings — itself yet the most engaged and 
 observing of creatures! 
 
 Men, whose consciences and understandings are 
 not wholly perverted, feel and will confess the evil 
 of their hearts ; but charge it upon them as it 
 operated in a particular case, and they will show 
 by apologies that they do not believe it. No 
 one is disposed to withhold the confession of our 
 general depravity, and many make it rather with an 
 air of triumph than of humiliation, as if there were 
 magnanimity in it, or were no want of virtue where 
 there is no unusual absence of it; but attempt to 
 lift the veil which covers their corruptions, and they 
 start back as if an enemy had approached them 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 117 
 
 without a warning. They will not come to the 
 investigation ; and it seems fair to judge that they 
 are conscious of deeds which would be reproved. 
 Their conduct, in this particular, also implies a 
 readiness to hide themselves from their own view, 
 and a capacity tp be satisfied with iniquity that is 
 concealed from the view of others — a state, it should 
 be noted, totally inconsistent with just views of sin 
 or holiness. They do not fear the invisible Searcher 
 of hearts, and the confidence of their associates gives 
 them the confidence of virtue. They walk erect in 
 all the expressiveness of conscious worth, when, if 
 their motives and acts were fully known, they would 
 fly in shame from the presence of those who praise 
 and trust them. 
 
 The process, by which we become reconciled to evil 
 ways, is gradual and often imperceptible. Actions 
 that are merely doubtful as to their morality, first gain 
 approbation, and the little beginnings of vice are tole- 
 rated without alarm. The mind, naturally tender 
 and timorous, is not easily tempted to commit acts of 
 distinguished iniquity. Its moral dread of vice is 
 not overcome by such bold attacks; but it is done by 
 the undermining influence of humbler departures 
 from virtue. These steal their way into our very 
 constitution before we are apprized of our danger, 
 and without a rattle to remind us of their venomous 
 
118 POPULAR INFIDELITY". 
 
 nature. They are the young vices which we take 
 to our bosoms; the enemy's spies which we enter- 
 tain not only with our secrets, but with our best 
 provisions; * the foolish virgins' to whom we are 
 giving the l oil in our lamps,' without any fear that 
 it will ever fail us. We think we have light enough 
 and to spare. Our small defects are hid in the shade 
 of our greater virtues, and if by the light of truth 
 and conscience they are ever made to appear, like 
 spots upon a planet, they are surrounded with splen- 
 dour, and, what is satisfactory, are not visible to 
 mortal eyes. Thus, through the deceitfulness of 
 sin, we are first drawn into its power, and cheated 
 into the belief that all is well because no evils are 
 experienced, we become confident of virtue in the 
 loss of sensibility to guilt, and in the successes of un- 
 discovered crime, are reconciled to ourselves by the 
 continued favour and countenance of the good. 
 
 But the process, by which we are beguiled from 
 virtue, and deluded into a sinful complacency with 
 our own character, is not more subtle or unobserved 
 than the operation of the causes which tend to per- 
 petuate the delusion. The best of men are liable to 
 be influenced in their opinions of themselves by the 
 depravity of the heart. Running in the thoughts 
 and affecting the understanding of men, it causes not 
 only many individual errors, but a lax and danger- 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 119 
 
 ous * public opinion/ which is apt to be referred to, 
 as authority for what is right and proper. We have 
 stated, and it may be repeated, that we are disposed 
 to think little of imperfections and sins which are 
 supposed to be common to man; and it is not less 
 true that any evil practice, which public opinion 
 sanctions, will lose the appearance of evil as it 
 respectably prevails. Who, indeed, is likely to 
 feel remorse or shame for what the world approves? 
 Guilt finds countenance for itself in guilt; and he 
 that lacks beauty or virtue will not wish to conceal 
 himself where neither is esteemed. In this practical 
 reference of our conduct to the judgment of the 
 world, the ' blind lead the blind,' and sustain each 
 other in the way of ruin. Many united will be 
 confident in a bad cause, which no one alone would 
 have courage to defend. Each one finds encourage- 
 ment for himself in the example of others, and so 
 each is supported, and in his turn supports another. 
 
 Few are at all apprized to what extent their opi- 
 nions are influenced and moulded by the practice of 
 their associates. To one of two societies we must 
 belong, the servants of God, or the servants of 
 satan; the votaries of time, or the votaries of eternity: 
 they are each of them striving for the mastery, and 
 saying, " Come with us." We may now be tender 
 and respectful to the claims of religion, but we have 
 
120 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 other sentiments, stronger than these, to which we 
 shall be tempted to yield, if we enter ourselves with 
 those who are devoted to the amusements and inte- 
 rests of time. There is a spice of atheism, a dash 
 of immodesty towards religion in all they do and 
 say, which is the more dangerous, because it is so 
 mild and diffused a thing that it requires more than 
 ordinary watchfulness to detect it, and more than 
 ordinary courage to give it its true character. With 
 them life and death, hope and disappointment are 
 spoken of without advertence to God, and with 
 regard only to physical causes and effects. The 
 motives and the works of piety are referred to prin- 
 ciples of selfishness and hopes of gain, such as per- 
 vade their own minds in the business of the world. 
 If we hear and consider with attention, we shall 
 find the sentiment breaking out like a restrained fire 
 at every opening, that all men have the same end, 
 and the only difference is, that of many lawful ways 
 to it, some take one, and some, another. The most 
 serious and awful scenes of human existence are 
 commented on as incidents in a world of chance. 
 The sensibility and thoughtfulness, which they 
 awaken in the less confirmed of their number, are 
 contemplated, and perhaps adverted to, as symp- 
 toms of weakness and inexperience, to which it is 
 their felicity to be superior. Now, let it be con- 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 121 
 
 sidered that our religious sentiment is not naturally 
 our strongest; that, like other delicacies of the mind 
 and heart, it recoils at first, and then loses its nature 
 when used to ungenial associations, and becomes, if 
 not the conscious, the real subject of an impure con- 
 version; that our strongest tendency is to fix our 
 affections on the world, to break from the restraints 
 of eternity, to adjust our opinions to the standard of 
 our companions, and to make their esteem a great and 
 leading object in our speeches, smiles, and favours — 
 and can it be doubted that here is an active and power- 
 ful cause of degeneracy and unbelief ? Can we doubt 
 that the result of this combination will be to create 
 in us a necessity for pleasures, and a complacency in 
 pursuits and imaginations, hostile alike to religious 
 consideration and to correct views of personal cha- 
 racter, and certain to perpetuate the delusion, if not 
 checked by the intervention of crosses and calami- 
 ties which shall bring us back to a i right mind,' 
 and to the ' abundance that is in our Father's house V 
 We remember one (who seemed to run well in reli- 
 gion) who, falling among the enemies of his Lord, 
 denied him in fear of their displeasure — and another, 
 (who heard the preacher ' gladly, and did many 
 things,') who afterward, (though < he knew him to 
 be a just man,') 'for his oath's sake,' (made in a 
 glee,) and i for their sakes who sat with him,' (for he 
 11 
 
122 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 desired their approbation,) ' commanded his head 
 to be brought in a charger, and given to the damsel/ 
 who had demanded it as the price of the amusement 
 she afforded them. There are slighter, but not dis- 
 similar, acts of denial and crime, to which we are 
 perpetually tempted in the society of men devoid of 
 religion. Their practice, indeed, is but a denial of 
 its claims, but a blow at the destruction of that which 
 they profess to honour as ' just. J We place our- 
 selves where all is against Christianity, and nothing 
 in favour and honour of it; where the irreligious 
 tendencies of our nature are drawn out and applaud- 
 ed; where it requires more than ordinary courage 
 and strength to preserve or even express any con- 
 cern for the interests of the soul; where we are 
 strongly tempted to be silent about religion, to ac- 
 quiesce in its banishment, to suppress our convic- 
 tions, and to pass on to a guilty and cowardly shame 
 of it, when in the chosen presence of those, who, 
 maugre their friendship, would spoil us of hope and 
 salvation, and think they done us no disservice. 
 Think as well as we may of the society of worldly 
 minds, it gives no entertainment to religion, and 
 will not tolerate the serious mention of it. The 
 life and gayety which prevail there would fly at its 
 approach, like birds scattered by the presence of Ihe 
 fowler. There is, if not an instinct, a ready appre- 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 123 
 
 hension, a guilty shrinking from it, which as well 
 expresses its infrequency as its unwelcomeness there. 
 If we suppose that we can covet such society, and suf- 
 fer our thoughts to follow its lead, and to repose in 
 its moods, without the peril of our virtue and of our 
 confidence in the truths of religion, we are unac- 
 quainted with our nature and the strength of our 
 mind. We may continue in it and be conscious of 
 no change of opinion, relinquish no article of faith, 
 and incur no charge of singular guilt or vainness of 
 purpose; but we shall fall from our estate in a more 
 general and less observable way; we shall lose our 
 susceptibility to spiritual impressions; indistinctness 
 of perception, aversion to prayer, and deadness to 
 praise will come on, and the strength of the hold 
 which religious principle has upon us will be weak- 
 ened at every point, before we are apprized that we 
 have ehanged in any. The cause of this change, 
 of this diffusion of infidelity in the mind, should be 
 borne in remembrance. It is the breaking up and 
 merging of the sinner's convictions of the nature of 
 sin, and of the degree of his own sinfulness, which 
 has taken place as the direct effect of habitual con- 
 verse with that society, where every thing is plan- 
 ned, spoken, and done in disunion from God; where 
 it is no crime to exclude religion from the thoughts, 
 and where selfishness, pride, and all the spiritual 
 
124 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 forms of wickedness are treated as innocent, and 
 only the vices and crimes, which impair confidence 
 and reputation, and put in jeopardy < their own 
 things,' are noted and condemned as sins. 
 
 The infidelity, which results from changed views 
 of personal guilt and danger, (and our views in this 
 respect are always changing for the worse when not 
 improving, and, though changing by insensible de- 
 grees perhaps, yet greatly changing,) is seldom per- 
 ceived by the subject of it, and in this lies its dead- 
 liest advantage. It is ' a wolf in sheep's clothing,' 
 having indeed all of the dulness, with none of the 
 innocence of that useful animal. It is a virus that 
 has been infused without a sting, and works without 
 pain, consuming the health and obscuring the sight. 
 Its process is as insensible as that of age, disabling 
 and bringing us under its power. No speculative 
 opinions are changed, no great truth is formally re- 
 nounced; still the change is great; it is diffused 
 through the whole man, and when he contemplates 
 it, it awakens no alarm, and is not likely to be seen 
 either in its cause or effect. It is nature upon which 
 only the changes of experience and age have passed, 
 taking something from its susceptibility and power, 
 but nothing from its goodness and faith. Such are 
 the views which men have of the grown corruption 
 of the heart, when it assumes only an even and 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 125 
 
 natural shape; and, of course, the infidelity which 
 they involve is rarely suspected. They must be 
 convinced that their views of sin have been modi- 
 fied by their associations, that in the unmixed world- 
 liness of their thoughts and affections there is an 
 element of darkness, a growth of death, which mars 
 and defiles their conceptions of truth, before they 
 can understand their true condition or its proper 
 remedy. This is the reason why it is so difficult to 
 persuade them of their infidelity, and why the truth, 
 when presented to their mind, has so little effect. 
 They are not sensible of the character of the change 
 that has been wrought in their estimation of sin and 
 holiness, and retaining still their opinions, something 
 as a tree retains its limbs when life is gone from 
 them, they esteem themselves as good believers as 
 tver. 
 
 The truth affects them little, because they do not 
 see their occasion to be affected by it, and, observe, 
 they never will see it, while they continue to view 
 their character as reflected from the conduct of 
 others who approve of them as they are, and act as 
 they do. Such example has the effect of weakening 
 their convictions of sin, of impairing their fear of 
 God, and estranging the mind from the evidences 
 of his truth. This done, they are left exposed to 
 other consequent causes of unbelief: they have esta- 
 11* 
 
126 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 blished their worldly associations and friendships, 
 and consistency requires that they should continue 
 in them; the difficulty of a return to religious con- 
 sideration is thus greatly increased; the singularity 
 of such a course and the reproachful surprise it 
 might awaken are more strongly apprehended, and 
 they have not the courage to do the duty they would. 
 This is the best view of their case; and it may be 
 very far from comprehending the whole evil and 
 difficulty of it. They have perhaps drank in so great 
 a measure of worldliness, that they would not ex- 
 change it for religion, if they could, would not break 
 from the ranks of its neglecters, if there were no 
 obstacle in the way, no sacrifice of esteem and no 
 reproach to be incurred by it. Like the deranged, or 
 the foolish man, they may be struck spell-bound, with 
 the splendour of their prison-walls, and obstinately 
 refuse to come out, when its doors are opened and 
 liberty proclaimed. When this infatuation, this 
 pleasure with worldly bonds, is added to the en- 
 hanced difficulties and sacrifices which they must 
 undergo in breaking from them, reason despairs of 
 their recovery. There is, indeed, no hope of it 
 from themselves. Every influence is operating, 
 every motive is drawing, to help them on in the 
 discredit of religion, and to give them repose with- 
 out it. True^they have yet some distrust of their 
 
FOPULAR INFIDELITY. 127 
 
 safety, but they see nothing singular in their condi- 
 tion, and, as the numbers who rank with them swell 
 on every side, with hearts light and countenances 
 imaging confidence and delight, their fears are 
 allayed. They take courage from observing the 
 unconcern of others; they would tremble to face the 
 danger alone; to be solitary sinners they could not 
 endure; to see all their companions running in the 
 ways of righteousness would cause instant dissatis- 
 faction and alarm; to be marked and set apart in 
 this way, this would make them hate the distinction 
 which now they so much covet, bring down their 
 high looks, imbitter their pleasures, and run every 
 thing, save religion, to dross and littleness. But 
 their strength stands in numbers, (strange that they 
 should not deem it a strength drawing to destruc- 
 tion,) and their boldness (cutting the air in the rear 
 of powerful leaders, no danger near or looked for) 
 like an insect circling a blaze, repelled by the heat, 
 hut inferring no danger from the light, is daring 
 because not seeing, and cheerful because not con- 
 sidering — both illustrating and prompting the ex- 
 clamation, 'if the light that is in us be darkness, 
 how great is that darkness!' 1 
 
 Enough has been said to evince that neither the 
 mind nor the heart can be clear in an element from 
 > Matt. vi. 2, 3. 
 
128 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 which religion is expelled. Next to positive im- 
 piety and sensuality, the greatest obstacle to faith is 
 that worldliness which is acquired in the chosen 
 society of those who are living without God. It 
 stupifies the conscience, cools the affections, breeds 
 distaste to serious reflection, accustoms the mind to 
 the absence of religion, and gives scope and nourish- 
 ment only to the corrupt tendencies of our nature. 
 It is a ivorld, in which God is practically allowed to 
 have no part, which is separated from eternity, 
 where all trifles have a dangerous value, and every 
 thing is permitted to drift but what may be gathered 
 up and turned to the advantage and pleasure of a 
 wasting life. And when it is considered what our 
 nature is, what our proneness, under the wisest and 
 best restraints, to self-indulgence and the neglect of 
 spiritual concerns, can it be thought safe for our 
 virtue, to say nothing of our faith, to strike for plea- 
 sure and notoriety in such an element of atheism as 
 this ? to inure the heart to a fascination that steels 
 it to the impression of danger, to shut God out of 
 the mind, and let nature run, without the guidance 
 of his grace, 
 
 ' like a river smooth 
 
 Along its earthy borders'?' 
 
 If we can do this safely, we may blot out as super- 
 fluous half of the precepts and cautions of the word 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 129 
 
 of God; our nature is not what it is there described 
 to be, nor what we have seemed to find it in expe- 
 rience; we have been deceived; there is no danger 
 of being corrupted by ' evil communications,' no 
 cross in religion, no self-denial, no crucifixion of the 
 natural man, no ' worldly lusts' to be slain, nothing 
 to be done but to consent to be borne to heaven, or 
 rather, to let our nature carry us there. Alas, that 
 any should indulge in a dream like this; should 
 think themselves proof against ' the wear and tear' 
 of this current; or should esteem religion so little 
 as to enter themselves on this ground, and take their 
 chance for salvation in a race that leads directly 
 from it, and must soon leave it out of sight! This 
 is to turn their back on God, to stop their ears to 
 his calls, to close their eyes to the lights he has set 
 in their path, and all in an easy expectation of get- 
 ting to heaven at last. That any will do this, while 
 they have a speculative belief in Christianity, and 
 no settled purpose of living and dying without an 
 interest in it, is an instance of wonderful self-decep- 
 tion, a proof that the plague of their hearts has got 
 a deep and unsuspected hold, and that the excel- 
 lence, the heart, the whole of Christianity but its 
 outside is gone from their creed, and gone, too, 
 through the advances of corrupt nature, and leaving 
 no sense of vacancy and loss behind. We cannot 
 
130 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 express the trouble we feel in viewing the prospect 
 before them. Those generous and noble youth, 
 whose loveliest distinction is their sensibility to vir- 
 tue, and to a Saviour's compassion; who engage us 
 so by their confidence, their warm and unsettled 
 affections, their inexperience of sorrow and the dan- 
 gers of deception — all beautiful as they are — we see 
 them giving their hearts to the world — we cry, but 
 cannot make them hear — we look on, and see them 
 as trees already in c yellow leaf;' the angel that was 
 in them has disappeared, gone in all but his visage; 
 a blight has fallen on the religious delicacy of the 
 mind, and, 
 
 " Like the crush'd flower, no time, no art, 
 Can make it bloom again." 
 
 We see them yet: their hearts beat only for worldly 
 pleasure and admiration; none of their associates 
 feel surprise or attempt to turn them to better things; 
 their simple feelings are acquiring the vigour and 
 hardiness of a worldly maturity, and they are moving 
 on — a wonder to all but those who are going the 
 same way, yet no wonder to themselves — numbers 
 falling into the grave, numbers wasting with disease, 
 numbers bowed down with anguish and disappoint- 
 ment, numbers consuming with envy and pride, 
 numbers finding pleasure ceasing to please, numbers 
 acknowledging that 'all is vanity,' with no heart to 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 131 
 
 seek for substance, and numbers looking back on 
 a life gone through, and a world tried and emptied, 
 and forward to an eternity just at hand, yet having 
 no heart, no resolution to prepare for it: — we see 
 them no more — but the world is going on as before; 
 their places are filling up, and ceasing to know them, 
 none the better that they have lived, or the sadder 
 that they are gone. 1 
 
 It is difficult to account for the inconsideration 
 with which persons, accustomed to be wary and 
 thoughtful on other subjects, will put in peril their 
 spiritual interests, without supposing a greater de- 
 gree of unbelief in their mind than they are ready 
 to acknowledge. To say the least, it evinces 
 a degree of insensibility to the claims and per- 
 fections of God, a disaffection with his service, a 
 
 1 If we have nothing secure, nothing which will be ours to enjoy 
 forever, 'what shadows we are,' and what shadows do we dote 
 upon ! When contemplating this truth, that was a natural reflec- 
 tion of Mrs. Cooper, which we find in her life by Adam Clark. 
 " When I view mankind, their disappointments, miseries, diseases, 
 and wretchedness, and see that each individual has a cup of sorrow 
 to drink; I feel surprised that this world should ever be alluring to 
 my eyes ; that it should ever lay siege to my heart with so much 
 success; that the things relative to another world should be so dimly 
 viewed, so lowly prized. Religion, if it be sincere, must be the 
 prevailing disposition of the mind ; it must supersede every thing 
 else ; it must be a progressive work, and the soul must be preparing 
 for a state of perfect holiness." Can this be done, can we have any 
 religion at all, in a society where all concern for it is looked out of 
 countenance, and only worldliness is indulged 1 
 
132 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 decided preference of the world to him, which can- 
 not be continued in, without the most fearful hazard 
 of running into infidelity. It is an ordinary con- 
 comitant of such a state to have all the better and 
 earlier convictions of the mind unsettled. When com- 
 mon respect and tenderness toward religion is dissi- 
 pated, truth, once received and felt, will come under 
 suspicion, and be turned off as uncertain. The great 
 realities of a future life will hang in doubtfulness; 
 we shall begin to suspect our need of faith in them, 
 and to look with more boldness and composure to the 
 trial of them without the preparation which the gos- 
 pel requires. We want no better proof of this than 
 reflection on the operation of our own mind will give 
 us; but, if we should not so readily find it here, we 
 may see it in the multitudes who, in maturity and old 
 age, are living without religion, and dying without 
 concern. This indifference proceeds from a gross 
 perversion of the intellectual powers in reference to 
 spiritual objects, which has its origin in the quali- 
 ties of the heart. They did not anticipate this result, 
 — they could not have been satisfied with any rational 
 prospect of it, — but now, that they are the subjects 
 of it, they see nothing strange or alarming in it. 
 
 These considerations show what the peculiar dan- 
 gers of youth are, in associations which withdraw 
 their attention from religion and put them upon 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 133 
 
 satisfactions foreign to it. There is death in the 
 enchantment of this circle. The leaven of the 
 Pharisees — formality in religion, and distaste to 
 spiritual duties — will spread through all the facul- 
 ties of their soul, not leaving, ultimately, so much 
 as a lukewarmness for God. 
 
 We have sometimes thought that religion is not a 
 little dishonoured, and they not a little deceived, by 
 well meaning representations of it as an easy prac- 
 tice. Its yoke may indeed be easy, and its burden 
 light, but it is only love to Christ and deadness to 
 the world that can make it so. There is no such 
 thing as a religious practice without a conflict with 
 ourselves, — a sacrifice of our devotion to the amuse- 
 ments and pursuits of the world ; and, if this be 
 deemed a great hardship, it proves too clearly that 
 the heart is not yet broken in penitence, nor kindled 
 into reciprocal flames by the love of Christ. It is 
 only poising between the world and God, proposing 
 conditions to him, not accepting of his, and indulging 
 thoughts as little worthy of the excellency of his 
 service, as of the greatness of the hopes that are 
 entertained from it. To set out in religion with 
 this mind is not to follow Christ, but to bargain 
 with him for the enjoyment of the world; to dictate 
 on what terms we will be saved, and to pledge to 
 ourselves his acquiescence in them ; to presume on 
 12 
 
134 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 his forbearance, and to confide in his mercy and 
 complacency towards us, while we refuse to separate 
 from the world and to bear his cross. It is a species 
 of self-indulgence that will serve him only so far as 
 he will let us do it in our own way. How much 
 religion persons of this humour would have, or how- 
 much practical consideration of Christ's benefits 
 and counsels they evince, it is hard to say. It is 
 wonderful that they should pretend to any; and in- 
 deed they pretend to so little, and so little evince, 
 that one is in doubt whether it is their pleasure to 
 have the credit of any. Religion, were it as accom- 
 modating to our natural desires as their practice 
 shows it to be, would be little better, as a restraint 
 upon the corruption of our nature, than a warrant 
 for its indulgence in all the ways of preferring the 
 creature to the Creator. Our Saviour did not mis- 
 take the truth on this subject when he told 'a certain 
 ruler,' who had kept so many of his commandments, 
 that he lacked one thing, (a lack, let it be observed, 
 which was necessary to render any part of his ser- 
 vice acceptable,) must sell all that he had, and give 
 to the poor, and so come and follow him. This 
 is a reasonable demand, not only that his service is 
 more advantageous and honourable to us than any 
 thing else, that he has a right to require of us what 
 he will, that he requires an easy service compared 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 135 
 
 with what he has done for us, but also that it is 
 necessary to any real transformation of our nature 
 that we have a universal preference of spiritual to 
 temporal things, — a readiness to give up all for 
 Christ. Nothing short of this can be a proof of 
 supreme love to him; and to barter with him, for 
 a less measure of regard than this, is to rank him, 
 in desirableness as well as loveliness, below his 
 creatures, and to turn him off with the name of our 
 devotion, while we give its heart and joy to the 
 world. Such a habitude of mind precludes all ad- 
 vancement in holiness, and favours only the growth 
 of the natural and unsanctified man. The supposi- 
 tion, that we can advance in love to God and retain 
 at the same time ' all our creature fondnesses/ is 
 opposed to all the laws of our moral nature, and 
 would, moreover, place religion out of the sphere 
 of all analogy. " All things strive to ascend, and 
 ascend in their striving. And shall man alone 
 stoop? Shall his pursuits and desires, the reflections 
 of his inward life, be like the reflected image of a 
 tree on the edge of a pool, that grows downward, 
 and seeks a mock heaven in the unstable element 
 beneath it?" 1 Strange that any should think to 
 retain, with a religious practice, that ' friendship' 
 (not to say devotion) 'of the world,' which is styled 
 1 Aids to Reflection, p. 105. 2d English edition. 
 
136 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 < enmity with God!' Stranger still that they should 
 do this, after the formality of a religious profession 
 which turns all eyes to them as ' lights in the 
 world,' 1 and which, if it avail any thing for good 
 in their experience, does justify those remarkable 
 words, ' ye were sometimes darkness, but now are 
 ye light in the Lord,' 2 and that most reasonable 
 deduction, — therefore 'walk as children of light, 
 and have no fellowship with the unfruitful works 
 of darkness!' 3 This subject is so clear in itself, 
 and evidence so glaring bursts upon it from every 
 page of inspiration and every day of human ex- 
 perience, that we have no fear of intimating that 
 all must be of the same mind upon it, except those 
 who are so little convinced of the deep repugnance 
 of their nature to spiritual things, so worldly secure, 
 and so strongly bent on gratifications foreign to re- 
 ligion, that they neither know its difficulties or its 
 comforts, have no experience of those "cheering, 
 warming beams" that light off the divine counte- 
 nance, and are thinking to keep God satisfied with a 
 little devotion now, and to give him a full measure 
 when age or exhaustion shall incapacitate them for 
 
 "Phil. ii. 15. 2 Eph. v. 8— 11. 
 
 3 If a man is not rising upward to be an angel, depend upon it, 
 he is sinking downward to be a devil. He cannot stop at the beast. 
 The most savage of men are not beasts ; they are worse, a great deal 
 worse.— Coleridge's Table Talk, vol. ii. p. 132. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 137 
 
 pleasure in other things. There is no religion in all 
 this — clearly none. It is worse than indifference to 
 it — a deliberate postponement of its claims — -a dis- 
 crediting of it, whether intentionally or no, and that, 
 in the house of friends. This is no exaggeration ; 
 
 1 There's nothing left to fancy's guess, 
 You see that all is barrenness.' 
 
 Not a vestige of faith appears in a mind that is 
 desolate and impatient without gratifications which 
 indispose it to devotion. He pays but a sorry com- 
 pliment to religion, who would obtain it at so cheap 
 a ra te — at no sacrifice of worldly vanities and hopes. 
 The heart, that strongly desires, or can easily per- 
 suade itself to take, the liberty of this indulgence, 
 cannot stand the test of truth. It is already 
 estranged from the life of God; it finds no access 
 to him in prayer ; its enjoyment is not in him, and 
 the course it craves leads from him. Where our 
 treasure is, there our heart will be also; and where 
 the heart is, there also will be our delight. If it be 
 imagined that we can be preparing for heaven, while 
 obeying our natural fondness for things here, turning 
 our thoughts and affections in another direction, 
 drifting by the force of cherished habit from God, 
 and only looking back to him in duty when under 
 the lashes of guilt, it is the grossest self-deception. 
 We are going from the object, and it is vain to 
 12* 
 
138 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 expect that it will overtake us. Religion is a ' fel- 
 lowship with the Father, and with his Son Jesus 
 Christ/ 1 a < walking in the comfort of the Holy 
 Ghost;' 2 and how are these to he maintained without 
 a congenial, habitual thoughtfulness, without denying 
 ourselves, and resisting 'the course of this world?' 3 
 If we will decline a practice so reasonable, as well 
 as scriptural, we must indeed have small thoughts 
 of the objects to be gained by it; if we would carry 
 with us into this fellowship the dead weights of the 
 world, we may be sure that we are dallying and 
 counselling with i an evil heart of unbelief.' And its 
 power to deceive, and draw us to destruction, will 
 increase with every victory it gains over us. We 
 may not trust it; its venom, its art, invokes a strong 
 resistance. 
 
 " The serpent of the field, by art 
 
 And spells, is won from harming ; 
 
 But that which coils around the heart, 
 
 O who hath power of charming 1" 
 
 Our hearts are not like the hearts of others, nor is 
 religion the great thing the Bible makes it, if we 
 can safely presume to face the < appearance of evil/ 
 and leave our interest in it unguarded. 
 
 i John i. 3. 2 Acts ix. 31. 3 Eph. ii. 2. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. \ 39 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Want of self-knowledge a cause of error in religion — Self-love — 
 Examples of its deceptive operation — Its opposition to correct 
 views of truth — Perils of the state to which it carries the mind — 
 Difficulty of understanding this state, and of escaping from it — 
 Errors that grow out of it — Its incompatibility with moral improve- 
 ment — Two weighty inferences — Sense of guilt always slight in 
 habitual sins — Great sins rendered sinless in our eyes by a con- 
 tinuance in them — Secret sins — The peculiar danger of them — 
 Their effect on the moral perceptions — The false security and 
 infidelity which insensibly spring from them — The folly of de- 
 ciding on our character from the opinion of others — Deceptive 
 appearances — Prayer of a Roman worshipper — Great inconsist- 
 encies in practice — Instruction drawn from the conduct of the 
 thief and the robber — The moral decency of their example com- 
 pared with that of others — Effect of sinning on the judgment — 
 Errors in one respect leading to error in all others — Reflections. 
 
 Having considered the proneness of men to 
 determine the good or evil of their actions by refer- 
 ence to the conduct of others, and the dangerous 
 results which follow from it, we see, more and more, 
 the deceitfulness of the heart, and the great im- 
 portance of knowing ourselves, if we would know 
 the causes of our unbelief and error in regard to 
 divine truth. The progress of infidelity in every 
 mind keeps pace with the increase of distaste to spi- 
 ritual things. When we lose our delight in an ob- 
 ject of faith, it is gone from us, and we see no more 
 
140 POPULAR INFIDELIT3T. 
 
 its beauties — like as an object of vision is gone with 
 all its colours, when we see it no longer. This is 
 especially likely to be the result, when the truths to 
 be credited are not only distasteful, but require the 
 renunciation of objects and pursuits to which the 
 heart has become strongly wedded. It is not to be 
 expected that in this condition we shall see things 
 as they are, if indeed we credit their existence; 
 and, not seeing them as they are, it is impossible 
 that our faith in them, be it more or less, should be 
 according to truth, or have any suitable influence. 
 
 We are all liable to have our judgment swayed by 
 interest, prejudice, or passion; but it is very difficult 
 to make any one see this in his own case. This truth 
 however is universally acknowledged; and this, 
 taken in connexion with the difficulty of seeing it in 
 our own practice, shows, clearly, not that we are ex- 
 ceptions to the rule, — that none will allow but our- 
 selves — but that the powers of the intellect — the 
 reason, the understanding — are susceptible of the 
 greatest influence, and the grossest perversion from 
 the qualities of the heart. 
 
 Self-love, in some of the forms of its manifesta- 
 tion, sways every man's opinions and actions, to a 
 degree which he can scarcely credit. There are 
 eminent instances of this which glare in every 
 body's eyes; but it is not so important to contem- 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 141 
 
 plate these, as the more general and less observable 
 processes of it which may be seen in all. We do not 
 here speak of men, who are unusually depraved, but 
 of those simply, who lay many restraints on their 
 evil propensities, and are in high esteem for general 
 probity. And how various and blinding are the 
 operations of this principle in them ! He, who is, 
 perhaps, never censured for any delinquency, guided 
 by its specious influence, looks upon others to find 
 his advantage over them. He compares himself 
 with the worst, and loses sight of his own defects in 
 the greatness of theirs, as a lesser light seems put out 
 by a greater. Another lives on the applause and cor- 
 diality of his neighbours, finding in their friendship 
 the evidence of virtues which he does not possess. 
 He hears their testimony to the graces of his amia- 
 ble, upright, and honourable character, and it falls 
 like the music of paradise upon his ear, charming 
 him into delusion, and into favour with faults which 
 he had before condemned. Another is extolled for a 
 deed of folly or wickedness, by the unreflecting mul- 
 titude, from whom he derives his importance, and 
 for this reason alone, he boasts of it as his deed, and 
 thinks it a great virtue. Another, when he is convict- 
 ed of injustice or vice, invents palliations, complains 
 of persecution, and is readily persuaded, by the sym- 
 pathy and forbearance of the credulous and the kind, 
 
142 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 that his defences are reasonable. Another, when he 
 has offended you, may confess his fault, and if you are 
 ready to forgive and approve, he may be so well 
 pleased with the virtue of his confession that he will 
 think better of himself than he did before he had 
 offended, and this, when, if he had not feared the 
 loss of your favour, he would not have confessed or 
 felt any sorrow for his offence. Whether the object be 
 himself, or one affecting himself, no man under the 
 reigning influence of this principle sees the truth, 
 the whole truth; he has not light enough for that. 
 He sees things to a great extent as he wishes to see 
 them; and he never wishes to see them as crossing 
 and opposing himself. We need not say what 
 havoc, what base transformations and images of the 
 truth self-love will be likely to cause, when we 
 come to estimate the claims of Christianity, which 
 proposes, as a chief thing, to undo the nature, to take 
 down the pride and sufficiency of man. 
 
 The influence of an inordinate self-love, in recon- 
 ciling us to our own evil ways, may be variously 
 illustrated. That there is much dishonesty even 
 among men who are accounted respectable, and that 
 there is ground in our nature for apprehending it, 
 is evident from the laws and guards that are raised 
 against it: indeed this truth is admitted by all. It is 
 also admitted that much dishonesty is practised 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 143 
 
 which is never exposed, and cannot be made the sub- 
 ject of legal investigation; but look for the authors 
 of it, and you will not find a man of this class who 
 thinks himself practically dishonest, or believes a 
 report which declares him to be unworthy of confi- 
 dence. Their cherished impression is that they are 
 not justly liable to this charge, whereas, if another had 
 acted precisely as they have done, they could have 
 no trust in his principles. Tell a man of the oppor- 
 tunities of doing good which he has neglected, and 
 if he has ever felt an emotion of kindness, or de- 
 signed a virtuous action, he will refer to these for 
 consolation, and perhaps view himself not the less 
 virtuous for not having done what he has delayed 
 only that he might do it more seasonably; and who- 
 ever has done more, if more fortunate, has not, he 
 fancies, designed more or wished better. 1 He, who 
 is criminally selfish in all his ways, often says much 
 of the selfishness of the human heart, sees not in 
 himself what he complains of in others, reasons plau- 
 sibly on the arts employed by many (himself em- 
 ploying the same) to appear benevolent and secure 
 esteem, and concludes, if the methods of promoting 
 our interests are diverse, our motives in all are sin- 
 gle, and thus imperceptibly finds himself to be good 
 
 1 So true is it, as Shakspeare says, that " our crimes would de- 
 spair if they were not cherished by our virtues." 
 
144 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 in finding that others are bad. The avaricious man, 
 whose storehouses are full, can hardly believe it his 
 duty to give to the poor: he has acquired his wealth 
 by industry and economy, (virtues these!) and can 
 therefore see no reason why he should bestow it 
 upon those who, by the neglect of the same means, 
 have become poor. He considers that every man 
 who lives in indolence, does it with the prospect of 
 poverty before his eyes, and must therefore have 
 preferred the inconveniences of want to the pains 
 of industry; and if he has learned too late the folly 
 of his choice, let him remember that, as a recom- 
 pense for the evils of his present state, he has al- 
 ready had a season of ease and pleasure. He thus 
 ascribes all his success to himself, (no divine favour 
 in it all,) leaves the unavoidable losses which some- 
 times reduce men to want wholly out of the account, 
 and takes only that view which is adapted to quiet 
 the apprehensions and secure the possessions of ava- 
 rice. He, who in the heat of passion has done you 
 an injury, may be disposed, after reflection, to make 
 you satisfaction; but should he now be told that you 
 merited the treatment you received, and ought to 
 atone for your own offences, he will change his 
 mind, and settle into a soothing quietude, consider- 
 ing his remorse both as the result of weakness and 
 as evidence of his disposition to do right. Alexan- 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 145 
 
 der, when he had in a fit of rage slain one of his 
 most approved friends and captains, sunk into deep 
 remorse, and became inconsolable at the recollec- 
 tion of the horrid deed; but, when a philosopher 
 appeared in his presence to console him, and told 
 him he was made to rule, and was not accountable 
 for his actions, his grief was alleviated, and he 
 became more haughty and unjust. 1 He was re- 
 lieved by the authority of philosophy appealing 
 to his vanity. Thousands, too, relieve themselves 
 from remorse by referring their sins to the pro- 
 pensities and infirmities of nature. Hence they 
 have an apology for the worst vices and crimes* 
 Their greatest offences are regarded either as mis- 
 fortunes or weaknesses — as misfortunes, when they 
 are made to suffer for them — as weaknesses, when 
 they find them wasteful and unsatisfying. Whether 
 it be satiety and disgust, or reproach and suffering, 
 which they experience, it is not the pollution or 
 guilt of sin which fix^s the attention: no; they 
 are not humbled; — they think themselves neglected^ 
 wronged, oppressed, and are perhaps ready to com- 
 plain of God as unequal in his ways towards them. 
 Examples of the operation of this principle in per- 
 verting the judgment might easily be multiplied; 
 but in those now presented, it may be clearly seen 
 
 > Plutarch's Life of Alexander 
 13 
 
146 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 with what false, yet plausible arguments men jus- 
 tify in themselves what they condemn in others, and 
 with what avidity they listen to- any thing that lulls 
 their remorse, or flatters their vanity. 
 
 A mere continuance in this state is enough to con- 
 firm and increase all its evils. The habit of view- 
 ing things through this medium, and of measuring 
 them by ourselves, is greatly to be dreaded. It is 
 not likely to alarm, but works swiftly and silently r 
 like a disease that is unknown, yet fatally pervading 
 every part of the system. It eats away all the bet- 
 ter sentiments of the heart, and sullies all the per- 
 fections of mind. We may not be aware of this, 
 but the danger is not less, but greater, that it 
 will master us. We see, especially in the unobserv- 
 able processes of our depravity, (unobservable, not 
 by others, but by ourselves, because it has insensibly 
 taken from us the power of discriminating them,) 
 our necessity for a light superior to nature, which 
 shall overcome and extinguish our deceitful glimmer- 
 ings—just that, indeed, which the Bible proposes, as 
 that is just what all accurate inspection of our na- 
 ture shows it to be, not an arbitrary appointment, 
 but a provision replete with the clearest understand- 
 ing of our frame, and the clearest foresight of its 
 fitness to the ends it was designed to secure. No- 
 thins can be more irrational than to trust the natural 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 147 
 
 goodness of our hearts, and, if we would but judge 
 ourselves as we judge others, we should be wary of 
 this danger: the fact that we are not generally so, 
 only makes the danger greater, and proves that we 
 are victims to self-delusion, not that our hearts are 
 better. It shows that, how drossy soever our na- 
 tures are growing, we see not 6 how the most fine 
 gold has become changed.' The process is diffusive 
 and easy, running through all the faculties and pow- 
 ers of the moral man, — blinding those it does not 
 kill. To love ourselves, to seek only 'our own 
 things/ is to obey nature, and nature in her lowest 
 ends. But it is a practice so common, so agreeable, 
 that we question if the morality of it is often doubted. 
 It will however awaken the deepest solicitude in a 
 considerate mind to know that it precludes all moral 
 improvement, and bears the soul downward, gently 
 perhaps, yet with the weight of a mountain, as 
 ascertained when the heart makes a due resistance. 
 It is a setting up of ourselves in the place of God; 
 not an attaining to ourselves, but a falling below this 
 measure, and finding our level, like water in a storm, 
 in the lowest places of the earth. It nurtures and 
 matures in us that iron selfishness, which is the com- 
 mon blind and distinction of manhood and age. 1 
 
 1 If our nature be duly considered in this light, it will be clear, that. 
 it must depreciate with age, unless that tendency be counteracted by 
 
148 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 Persons, who have gone this length, never think that 
 any ( strange thing' has happened to them, and in- 
 deed the thing is not so strange, as great: it is a natural 
 growth of the heart, and has so completely rooted 
 out all other qualities, and wrought so great a dis- 
 relish for them, that it is rather the heart itself than 
 a quality of it; and no wonder it should awaken no 
 surprise or apprehension. The creature, that is all 
 tiger, never fears that dread totality when seen only 
 in himself. The tempers and designs, which such 
 men guard against in others, in themselves appear 
 harmless as the breathings of life within them. 
 Their life is bound up in the world, their heart con- 
 tempered and concorporate with sensible things, and 
 all their pretences of respect to the unseen realities 
 of eternity are but as the unreal images that gather 
 in the view of a disordered eye, the faintest notions 
 of what they neither heartily believe nor desire. 
 If with the pretence of public spirit, they overstep 
 the usual bounds of self-interest, it is to catch an 
 opportunity of serving themselves on a larger scale — 
 munificent of beams which draw all eyes to them. 
 
 the agency of the Holy Spirit. This feature of the Christian reli- 
 gion is that, without which no renovation of the heart can be con- 
 ceived as possible. Without divine illumination man can neither 
 know nor improve himself; and, disregarding this truth, his course, 
 as shown above, will be downward, though his progress may not be 
 perceived by himself. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 149 
 
 They stand at a perpetual gaze, joying or hoping to 
 see some favourable turn in their affairs, and ready 
 to grasp at the sum of earthly good, not from any 
 sense of duty to God or man, but as if struck with a 
 desire to lose themselves in their own abundance. 
 Every fresh success puts new life and soul into 
 them; but reduce them to despair of worldly emolu- 
 ment, and the most inviting and charming descrip- 
 tions of heavenly rest have no reviving power; their 
 hearts languish and die, as if the principle of life had 
 already gone from them. 
 
 It is, therefore, impossible that any one in this 
 state should have correct views of himself, or be 
 able to see the beauty and excellence of divine 
 things. But it should be remembered, that it is a 
 state to which our nature is fast carrying us, which 
 is itself little other than the growth of nature, and 
 which nothing can hinder us from entering, tending 
 to it as we do, but the counteraction of love to God. 
 Without this the heart will inevitably fasten on 
 lower objects, and have a selfish growth. It will 
 have a devotion, if not to God, to itself, through the 
 love of the w r orld. This tendency alone is sufficient 
 ground for distrusting the justness of our conceptions 
 of moral qualities whether in ourselves or others. 
 
 It shows also that great danger to integrity of mind 
 must arise from the indulgence of an undue self-esti- 
 13* 
 
150 POPULAR INFIJDELiTr. 
 
 mation. No one has any remorse for this, nor do we 
 expect to make any proper impression of its eviL 
 When we speak of undue self-estimation we mean, not 
 those gross exhibitions of it, which make it the singu* 
 larity of an individual, but any degree of it, which 
 affects the judgment. In this degree it is perhaps 
 universal; and it will, if not steadily resisted, gain 
 complete ascendency. Where there is much self* 
 control and strength of mind, there may be no 
 offensive disclosures of it, nothing amounting to 
 weakness; but its operation, though stern and manly, 
 may not be less vital or less influential. The pre* 
 valence of this vice (if vice that may be called 
 which is not so esteemed) is greater than some sup- 
 pose — so various are the modes of its manifestation, 
 and so opposite the ways in which it accomplishes its 
 end. 1 We may not be aware of any danger from it 
 
 1 It may be thought that knowledge on this subject can only breed 
 distrust ; but not so — that is but an abuse of it. We cannot shut 
 our eyes to the truth, if we would, — and should not, if we could. 
 Ignorance one of another is more likely to aWaken suspicion, and to 
 chill the affections through fear of injustice and hypocrisy in others. 
 No trust, no affection, that is not based upon a due appreciation of 
 our nature, — is suitable to us as rational creatures* It has been well 
 said, " Unless the companions of our lives are absolutely unworthy of 
 our love, or ourselves are incapable of pure and generous emotions, 
 we shall love them with more vivacity, and with more steadiness, 
 when the depth of their faults has been sounded, than we could 
 while ignorance (mother of jealousy and fear) stood in the way 
 between heart and heart.'** 
 
 * Saturday Evening, p. 213. 
 
POPtfLAft INFIDELITY. 151 
 
 to ourselves — >we may think we are superior to it — « 
 but we must believe others are under its power, and 
 shall not be able to persuade them that we are not. 
 The evil is thus, by its own action, concealed from 
 us; but, like the poison that lies dormant in the 
 system, it is not dead— it will do its work if not 
 counteracted. The marble feels not the operation 
 of the chisel, though it yields to it; and the secular 
 man feels not the workings of his depravity, though 
 he yields to them, — -and yielding he is often when 
 he least knows it. The heart cannot be Well known 
 without habitual attention to its secret and changing 
 motions, nor then, without the aid of light from 
 above. It is a ' mystery of iniquity,' and the 
 startling truth is, that the more complacency we 
 indulge with regard to it, the more secure we fee\ f 
 and the deeper become its deceptions. The longer 
 We seek for reasons to justify ourselves in doubtful 
 practice, (practice that but harms us in way of 
 self-indulgence,) the more easily will they be 
 formed, and the less evidence shall we require to 
 prove us safe and right. Borne on by the down- 
 ward tendencies of nature, and diverted from the 
 consideration of our duty and destiny, by the glare 
 of objects that forever assail the senses and occupy 
 the affections, we easily and remorselessly settle into 
 Ignorance of our hearts, and into the practice of 
 
152 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 immoralities which an overgrown estimation of our- 
 selves will not permit us to fear or condemn. 
 
 Man is always growing morally better or worse, 
 and worse he is surely growing, without much care 
 and study to become better; and if it be a care and 
 study not heeding the counsel, nor depending on the 
 grace of God, little will be done. The extremes, 
 the temporal hazards, of iniquity, may be shunned; 
 the corruption of nature may run in the forms of 
 a severe morality, but in the end nothing will be 
 found at the bottom but self-importance; it will be 
 seen that he has only f brought forth fruit unto him- 
 self ;' 1 and the very shunning of vices and the prac- 
 tice of unusual virtues, so called, may have contributed 
 to this his natural growth. What then, without the 
 most industrious care, must be his progress? The 
 influence of his selfish passions increases with his 
 wants, and sensibility cools with the advance of age. 
 Conscience, once tender and quick to do her office, 
 becomes dilatory. The indulgence of evil desires, 
 once attended with remorse, is now attended with 
 pleasure. Duties, once considered duties and never 
 neglected without pain, now seem hardly to be 
 duties, and are omitted without any compunction or 
 care that they are so. Acts of overreaching injus- 
 tice, or of withholding avarice, have been repeated 
 
 1 Hos. x. 1. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 153 
 
 till they appear to be right. Such is the process of 
 time and habit in undoing our natural goodness, or 
 rather that which we fancy so, but which is so, only 
 as bespeaking our high descent, as reaching after 
 perfection, and helping us to attain thereto, when not 
 obstructed by adverse desires and pursuits. 1 
 
 If the tendencies and deceptions of self-love 
 are such as we have disclosed, — if, as observation 
 
 1 We do not mean here simply what Coleridge somewhere, we 
 think in his Friend, expresses, though that may hint its action. We 
 pretend not to quote his exact words — ' Conscience, as it is, is like the 
 moon to us, which, with all its massy shadows and deceptive gleams, 
 still lights us on our way, poor travellers as we are. With all its 
 spots and changes and eclipses, with all its vain halos and bedimming 
 •vapours, it still reflects the light that is to rise on us in eternity, 
 and which even now is rising,' We mean more a natural seeking 
 after an undefined but suitable good, which is thus graphically de- 
 scribed : — " For man doth not rest satisfied either with fruition of that 
 wherewith his life is preserved, or with performance of such actions 
 as advance him most deservedly in estimation ; but doth further covet, 
 yea, oftentimes manifestly pursue, with great earnestness, that which 
 cannot stand him in any stead for vital use ; that which exceedeth 
 the reach of sense, somewhat divine and heavenly, which, with hid- 
 den exultation, he rather surmiseth than conceiveth ; somewhat he 
 seeketh, and what that is directly he knoweth not, yet very inten- 
 tive desire thereof doth so incite him that all other known desires 
 and delights give place to this but only suspected desire."* Some- 
 thing of a presentiment like this, in different degrees of strength, 
 has distinguished man in every age of the world. It is nature (ill 
 working at best) giving signs of her loss, and of her necessity for 
 light and strength from above. When full light comes in, and the 
 way to the object is made clear, strange that interest in it should often. 
 
 flag! 
 
 * Hooker's Church Polity, Book I. 
 
154 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 teaches, the sense of guilt is abated by the frequent 
 repetition of sinful actions, — two most weighty and 
 alarming conclusions follow, namely, that in our 
 habitual sins the sense of guilt will always be weak, 
 and often entirely lost, and also, that our sins may 
 possess much enormity, and the sense of guilt be 
 slight, and our ways be truly evil, and yet be render- 
 ed clean in our own eyes by a continuance in them: 
 thus confirming the inspired aphorism, 'All the 
 ways of a man are clean in his own eyes.' 1 Things, 
 once clearly wrong and strongly disapproved, change 
 in his mould, and become 
 
 ' Like things enskyed and sainted.' 
 
 As any one of the passions may possess its object 
 with beauty and virtue, or with loathsomeness and 
 deformity, according as the nature of the passion 
 may be, and these qualities have all the influence 
 of realities with us, though none of them properly 
 belong to the object; so our self-admiration makes us 
 see unreal virtues, and blinds us to real vices, in 
 ourselves. Through the whole range of practice it 
 runs with 
 
 " Power to cheat the eye with blear illusion 
 And give it false presentments." 
 
 It conceals from us the harm and guilt of sins to 
 which we are attached, and which a loving practice 
 
 1 Prov. xvi. 2. 
 
TOPULAR INFIDELITY. 155 
 
 would have us (as innocents) retain. Thus by sin- 
 ning much, or by sinning habitually, we come, some- 
 times, to think ourselves hardly to be sinners. How 
 should these inferences startle the confidence we 
 have had in our own goodness, drive us to close and 
 unremitted self-examination, and awaken in us the 
 fearful and imploring cry, 'Who can tell how oft he 
 offendeth ? 0, cleanse thou me from secret faults, 
 and keep back thy servant from presumptuous sins!' 
 It is truly a weighty thing to live in our nature, with 
 a responsible mind. Cast upon an ocean, on which 
 no man ever walked safely except by faith, we disre- 
 gard all experience, and attempt to walk in the sight 
 of our own eyes. While we are in ease and uncon- 
 cern, the delusion that blinds us, the weights that 
 sink us, and the reckoning that awaits us, are accumu- 
 lating. Our movement, though unheeded, is sure and 
 uninterrupted to the bar of God, and the account, to 
 be settled there by most of us, will be composed of 
 habitual sins, — sins, possibly, which had not depre- 
 ciated us in the estimation of men, — sins, wonderfully, 
 and, alas! which we had accounted sinles3, and for 
 which, therefore, we did not expect to answer. 0! 
 there is something fearful in living with a slight 
 and inefficient sense of the evil of sin, — something 
 deadly in the quiet which it brings! They are small 
 sins — sins that are without reproach — which chiefly 
 
156 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 work the ruin of the soul; and yet, that ruin how 
 great, and how strangely small, in our account, the 
 evil that can affect it! Here lies our danger: in a state 
 'of ill knowledge and self-conceit,' the chances are, 
 that we shall cherish many sins as harmless, — that if 
 we have not come to this pass now, our practice will 
 soon carry us there. That felicitation of ours on 
 our freedom from vices may show, not that we are 
 better than others, but that where our 6 mortal frailty'' 
 has come out in them, in us it is smothered, not ex- 
 tinct. The little sins in us, (little, because we think 
 them so,) in consequence of the advantages of our 
 condition, may be more criminal and hardy than the 
 vices which we so shudder at in others. Be this so 
 or not, their drift toward destruction is more dan- 
 gerous than that of greater crimes, because we are apt 
 to feel more secure with them. Great iniquities are 
 not easily forgotten, and are therefore more likely tc 
 be repented of; but habitual sins, those unoffending, 
 those dormant reptiles, that we cherish in our bosoms, 
 conceal their malignity, while they retain their 
 venom. Resting quietly with them, and taking no 
 thought of what passes within us, we are like him 
 who inclines to sleep while the work of death is 
 going on, — like him who is fortified by a charm in 
 the moment of ruin. Pleased with these soft and 
 silken cords, we perceive not that our onward motion 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 157 
 
 draws them closer, and, while the length, we may be 
 permitted to go with them, is uncertain, heed not the 
 ever revolving wheel which winds them up. Such is 
 the false security, which the practice of sinning breeds 
 in the heart. The warnings of God's word and of 
 his providence annoy possibly, but alarm us not. In 
 the bosom of fostering mercy — in the folds of divine 
 compassion — we have grown cold, by a process 
 deemed innocent, and, when any event or flash of 
 judgment to come puts the question, what is the 
 prospect? promising, responds our infatuated nature. 
 This is truly a human conclusion, drawn from 
 facts humanly perceived; and if nature be stronger 
 than grace, she will continue to have the best of the 
 argument to the end. 
 
 Believing what is believed not, perceiving what 
 is perceived not, man may be largely knowing, 
 according to his conceptions, though knowing 
 little, according to truth. Sin and the love of it 
 have benumbed and stupified his faculties, and it is 
 only in his own eyes, 'which see not/ (though see- 
 ing,) that his ways appear clean. Self-examination 
 and self-distrust, duties of self-preservation, are sel- 
 dom entertained. They are often omitted, while 
 there is the greatest composure and study in plan- 
 ning and executing deceptions on others, the success 
 of which has the effect of a deception on our- 
 14 
 
158 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 selves by blinding us to our design and guilt. 
 Think of the infatuation of him, who, in concealing 
 his true character from others, has concealed it from 
 himself, having discernment enough to conclude he 
 is good because not known to be bad by those whom 
 he has deluded. Think of the complacency of him 
 who takes satisfaction in a reputation which he knows 
 to be undeserved, and seeks credit in reproaching 
 vices which he shuns not, in praising virtues which he 
 wishes not to possess. He is no stranger — we need not 
 question whether we know him. Think, too, of the 
 connexion between the respectability of vice and its 
 prevalence, of the solemn air of him, who is ponder- 
 ing upon his ways, in contrast with the high looks 
 of him, who is computing the avails of success in his 
 secret and sinful designs; of a 'world, lying,' not 
 more 'in iniquity,' than in wait to accomplish selfish 
 ends, plotting in light, and sallying forth in dark- 
 ness — and deny, if we will, that, in surprising others, 
 we have not found ourselves on some of these con- 
 cealed posts. 
 
 We may think our condition fair, with all the 
 evidence there is against it, or we may know it to 
 be ill, without concern, but either is the strongest 
 proof, we can give, of self-ignorance and unbelief. 
 What we appear to ourselves or others is no certain 
 index of what we are, for though a corrupt tree will 
 
TOPULAR INFIDELITY. 159 
 
 not bear good fruit, yet it may bear fruit wbich we 
 will take for good. The face of the earth presents 
 no indications of the crystal spring, or of the golden 
 mine, which lies deep beneath the surface; we may 
 have conjectures about them, but to have knowledge, 
 we must dig or bore until we find them. So, also, 
 we may have depths of corruption, spirits in us — 
 which none, not even ourselves, have suspected, and 
 of which it may be said, i This kind can come forth 
 by nothing, but by prayer and fasting.' 1 The lake, 
 whose surface is smooth and clear, may have a tur- 
 bid fountain. The tree, that blooms and towers, 
 may have a rottenness within. The object, which 
 at a distance sparkles with beauty, when approached, 
 often presents deformity. 
 
 There is a remarkable illustration on this subject 
 in one of the epistles of Horace. 2 
 
 Vir bonus, omne forum quern spectat et omne tribunal, 
 Quandocunque deos vel porco vet bove placat, 
 "Jane pater" clare, clare quum dixit "Apollo;" 
 Labra movet, metuens audiri : " Pulcra Laverna," 
 Da mihi fallere, da justum sanctumque videri 
 Noctem peccatis et frondibus objice nubem. 
 
 "The good man, who is honoured in courts of justice 
 and in all the assemblies of the great, whenever he 
 would please the gods with a sacrifice, cries aloud 
 and repeatedly, father Janus, Apollo! and at 
 
 1 Mark ix. 20. 2 Epistola xvi. ad Quinctium. 
 
160 POFULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 the same time moves his lips, fearing to be heard," 
 (that is, prays with the strong whispers of the 
 heart,) ' beautiful Laverna,' (a goddess deemed 
 the protectress of thieves and impostors,) ' grant 
 me success in deceiving, grant that I may appear 
 just and holy, and cover my faults with a cloud, and 
 my frauds with darkness.' This prayer is not more 
 remarkable than instructive, as illustrating the nature 
 of man. It is only nature overheard in whispering 
 the secrets of its devotion. It is no very strange oc- 
 currence, and all that makes it striking is that it is 
 brought so fully out in words. The worship of the 
 Roman goddess has ceased, but the Roman heart is 
 the heart within us, and the spirit of this petition, 
 believe it, if not uttered in words, is often put forth 
 most importunately in action and desire. This was 
 the prayer of our first parents, when they hid in the 
 garden. It was the prayer of Cain, when he said, 
 < Am I my brother's keeper?' though guilty of a 
 crime so foul that it ' smelt to heaven.' It was the 
 prayer of Peter, when he said, * I know not the man.' 
 It is the common prayer of sinners; the swift peti- 
 tion of all who nightly run to mischief. No man 
 was ever guilty of a deceit or crime, which he did 
 not desire to conceal, and with hope of concealment, 
 who has not done that, which he did not dare to do 
 without it? Words are but the mere reports to us 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 161 
 
 of desire in prayer, and sooner than they die on our 
 ear, yea, sooner than uttered, the desire itself is gone 
 to heaven; for ' the very thoughts of our hearts are 
 known afar off/ Wicked designs and aspirations are 
 not often viewed in this character, but if we knew 
 of one who could give us impunity, they would all 
 run in the forms of petition. Imagine men now 
 believing in a being, who could prosper and protect 
 them in injustice and crimes, and where should we 
 go to escape his worshippers? The suggestion is 
 sufficient to show that we could not live in such a 
 world. Earnest prayer would not then be the rare 
 practice it now is, and if fully answered, property, 
 reputation, life, nothing would be safe. 
 
 How humiliating is this survey of human nature; 
 and how should it startle the sinner to think of the 
 desires that ascend from his heart daily, and will, 
 till in consternation and despair he calls upon the 
 mountains to fall upon him, and hide him from the 
 coming retribution, or till, in another spirit, not that 
 of nature, he cries, ' Search me, God, and know 
 my heart; try me, and know my thoughts, and see 
 if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in 
 the way everlasting!' Who that has lived long, and 
 endeavoured with solicitude to live uprightly, has 
 not in memory some concealed iniquities over which 
 he wishes to weep, before that day ' when God will 
 14* 
 
162 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 make manifest the hidden counsels of the heart, 
 when that which hath been spoken in darkness shall 
 be heard in light, and that which hath been spoken 
 in the ear in closets shall be proclaimed upon the 
 housetops?' 0, the insolence and presumption of a 
 being who cowers beneath the gaze of human vision, 
 but trembles not at the sight of Him whose eyes are 
 ten thousand times brighter than the sun, — who so 
 much respects his fellow-man, that he wishes to de- 
 ceive him with an appearance of excellence which 
 he does not possess, but respects so little the Being 
 who breathed him into life, that he is not concerned 
 to conceal his iniquities from him, and neglects even 
 the civility of thanking him for his gifts, a civility 
 which he is scrupulous to pay to the most worthless 
 of his creatures! Even the thief, as he lays his 
 hand upon your property, has care that you see him 
 not. The robber goes forth in the night; he accosts 
 the stranger, and will have no witness by; but who, 
 in the moment of guilt, stops to determine if God be 
 the witness of his doings ? Wonder not at the pre- 
 sumption of the thief, who steals knowing all eyes 
 to be upon him, or of the robber, who commences his 
 work in the presence of thousands: theirs is prudence, 
 compared with the presumption of him, who, profess- 
 ing to believe that all his feelings and actions are 
 known to God, still acts and feels as though he be- 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 163 
 
 lieved it not. This is impudence with a vengeance, 
 and it has become so common, that nobody wonders 
 at it. What a reflection is it upon our nature, if amid 
 all our labours and sacrifices to acquire the esteem of 
 mortals, we do not so much as think of the esteem 
 of Him in whom we live and move and have our 
 being, and who, forgotten by us in health and plenty, 
 hears our cry in sickness and want! What indig- 
 nity does he offer to his Maker, who, in love with 
 mortal praise, pines away under mortal censure, 
 who grieves for his earthly losses, and rejoices in 
 prosperity and in the consolation and kindness 
 of earthly friends, — but never sorrows for his sins, 
 never rejoices in heavenly favour, never glows with 
 love to Him who gave him his friends, his privi- 
 leges, and all things here! What a display of divine 
 forbearance is it, that we have this moment to re- 
 member our ingratitude, and to what a pass of de- 
 generacy and insusceptibility has he come who (not 
 like the plant bending all its leaves and branches to- 
 ward the sun and putting forth flowers as in honour 
 of its genial glare, but like one dropping all the 
 growth of life toward the earth as with intent to grow 
 to it) does not begin to admire and love, as he looks 
 up the path of his existence, and sees the stream 
 of mercy which has ever flowed along by its side, 
 and which proceeded from the great and beneficent 
 
164 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 source whence he started, and from which he has 
 delighted to wander! 
 
 Reflections of this kind are natural and important, 
 but we would not have them carry the mind of the 
 reader from the immediate object of investigation, 
 namely, the tendency of our depravity, in one way 
 and another, to obscure the mind, and disqualify it 
 for perceiving the true character of our own exer- 
 cises and qualities. So great is this tendency, that 
 the practice of sinning is found generally to dimi- 
 nish our sense of the evil of sin, and cause us to 
 approve of acts which once appeared to be exceed- 
 ingly sinful. On this principle it is that we account 
 for the well known fact that truths, which are most 
 influential in youth, generally lose much of their power 
 in riper years; so much so, that we have the result of 
 a mind, when it has become enlarged with know- 
 ledge, and capable (intellectually) of a fuller compre- 
 hension of the truth, and of all the lights that shine 
 on it, and all the miseries and dangers of neglecting 
 it, losing its capacity of being impressed by it, and 
 contemplating it with an indifference hardly due to 
 errors that have been long since detected and laid 
 aside. But no error in this case has been discovered, 
 none is acknowledged: still there is a change in the 
 man; sin is not so sinful as it was; truth has lost its 
 majesty; other objects have increased in importance 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 165 
 
 and the accustomed amount of conviction is gone. 
 His sense of his own danger has diminished as he 
 has become familiar with it, and his fear of God seems 
 to have been expelled by the experience of success 
 without his favour. He sleeps now; and all his 
 thoughts about divine things are little better than 
 dreams. He takes no alarm, and, whatever else he 
 believes, he does not, he knows he does not, believe 
 that sin is so terrible a thing as God or an awakened 
 conscience represents it. And unbelief in this par- 
 ticular puts a thick veil upon the whole system of 
 divine truth. If the eye be evil here, the whole 
 body is full of darkness. 1 Take away this truth, or 
 obscure its evidence in the mind, and the whole is 
 tarnished; no other truth will be left entire; nothing 
 will be perceived aright. Every deliberate sin is 
 preceded by a process of unbelief in the mind with 
 regard to some revealed truth; and hence the fruit of 
 sinning is greater confidence in sinning, and a dimi- 
 nished consciousness of guilt and pollution. With all 
 the defilements which attach even to the best of us, 
 we should therefore have done with our confidence in 
 the justness and accuracy of our conceptions of any 
 truth, except as we are ' taught of God.' Only as he 
 shines into our hearts do we see light and get under- 
 standing. The infatuation of sin is not more clearly 
 ' Luke xi. 34. 
 
166 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 seen in any thing, than in its power to charm away 
 the sense of guilt and danger. This, let alone all its 
 other effects, is sufficient to show that we are always 
 in greater peril than we imagine. Men, who have 
 lost their reputation, their all, by their iniquities, 
 were once confident in their capacity and willing- 
 ness to resist temptation, but depended not upon 
 Him who alone is able to subdue the heat of the 
 furnace, and to stop the lion's mouth. 1 The danger 
 is not small, that even the Christian, if he permits 
 the watches which he sets over his ways to slumber, 
 will seek in concealment a protection for crime, 
 or a covering for sin. Alas! what does observation, 
 and what, we add, does experience teach us on this 
 point? Man, who is not a discerner of the thoughts 
 and purposes of the heart, sees but little of what 
 composes our essential character; and well it is, if 
 in what he sees not, we do not oftenest fail, and fail 
 with the least concern. We may too as clearly de- 
 ceive ourselves as others. The heart is ever in the 
 mazes of sin, the varnished motives and idle conceits 
 
 » No system of religion that does not furnish supernatural aid 
 can meet the necessities of man. This feature of Christianity en- 
 titles it to the homage of our purest reason. Our complete depend- 
 ence on Divine aid, rightly considered, is our strongest ground of 
 hope and encouragement. We can do nothing of ourselves ; and 
 when we learn to attempt nothing alone, we are coming to a right 
 mind ; we shall put forth Divine strength in arms of flesh, and so, 
 shall be able to < do all things.' 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 167 
 
 of self-love. Pride, the faithful guardian of the evil 
 arcana of the soul, extinguishes the lights of truth, 
 making those apartments of the mind, that were 
 darksome before, totally dark. When this princi- 
 ple takes the lead, nothing works well. We see 
 ourselves in our own light, which is only glorious, 
 as our own. 1 We are thus deceived; we see nothing 
 clearly and impartially; and, as we are apt to feel 
 too secure to search after danger or to deal plainly 
 with ourselves, no one can tell what the end will be. 
 It is to be considered also that imperfections and 
 sins, once concealed in this way, are more ensnaring 
 and dangerous to the soul than any other. Repent- 
 ance for such sins, if ever it comes, generally comes 
 late. The smiles of an approving world are sooth- 
 ing monitors of guilt concealed. He too, who, in 
 
 1 Pride and vanity are a prolific source of error in our opinions 
 of ourselves. Self-knowledge is the best corrective of them, but 
 the difficulty is, that they arrogate this attainment, and thereby ex- 
 clude it from the mind. 
 
 The man whose eye 
 
 Is ever on himself, doth Look on one, 
 The least of Nature's works, one who might move 
 The wise man to that scorn which wisdom holds 
 Unlawful ever. O be wiser, thou ! 
 
 Instruct that true knowledge leads to love ; 
 True dignity abides with him alone 
 Who, in the silent hour of inward thought, 
 Can still suspect ; and still revere himself 
 In lowliness of heart. — Wordsworth. 
 
168 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 the hope of concealment, can deliberately commit 
 sin, is of all men least likely to reform while con- 
 cealment lasts. Success in his efforts to hide his 
 guilt generally imboldens the transgressor, and one 
 instance of success after another is generally fol- 
 lowed by an increasing frequency of crime. So it 
 is with every kind of iniquity and fraud which hu- 
 man laws cannot reach and punish. These gain- 
 prevalence by slow degrees, and become viler as 
 they prevail, till civil laws are violated ; and still 
 the sinner, trusted, and reckless, may seem to him- 
 self as harmless as when he began to sin. It is at 
 the point of detection or exposure that repentance 
 and reformation usually begin; and it is well, if the 
 tears of such an hour are not selfish drops, drops 
 that lull the conscience, without improving the 
 heart. There is much of this kind of repentance. 
 Men behold themselves detected in their iniquities; 
 the pleasure of them is then gone, and can be remem- 
 bered only as vapid and unsatisfying; they blame 
 themselves for such follies past; they have some- 
 thing very like repentance, but it is merely rest- 
 iveness under present difficulties; the love of self 
 taking a new, a more profitable direction. 1 But the 
 thing to be considered most is, that the change, 
 
 1 " Thou niay'st of double ignorance boast, 
 
 Who know'st not that thou nothing know'bt." 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 169 
 
 whatever it be, and by whatsoever motives effected, 
 is likely to be esteemed a virtue, and converted to 
 an occasion of self-gratulation. Every view, there- 
 fore, which we can take of ourselves, warns us of 
 the infatuating influence and fearful evil of sin, and 
 teaches us, if we would live uprightly, to live hum- 
 bly, and to have our trust in heavenly aid — not at 
 all in ourselves. 
 
 15 
 
170 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Influence of character on belief— Direct application of the reasoning 
 in the preceding chapter — Analogies between what men think of 
 themselves and what they think of others — These considered as 
 the cause and proof of infidelity — Indifference of men to religion 
 not accidental, but the result of settled opinions — Mental processes 
 by which these opinions are acquired — The deductions of sense 
 taken for those of reason — Reason held in the service of sense — 
 Singular love of the world — Our own depravity approved when it 
 goes to excess in one direction, yet hated under other and lower 
 manifestations — Idolatry — Analogy of its forms to human charac- 
 ter — Condition of the heart — Its changes great, yet imperceptible^ — 
 Nature, not counsel, taken for a guide in spiritual perplexity — 
 Its inventions — Its resentment of the truth — Its proneness to clothe 
 God in its own likeness — Spiritual idolatry — Analogies bearing on 
 the general subject — True basis of practical infidelity. 
 
 We come now to make a more particular applica- 
 tion of the reasoning in the preceding chapter to the 
 proofs of infidelity. If the corruption of our nature, 
 in one and another form of its action, perverts our 
 judgment of our own moral qualities, it is reasonable 
 to anticipate the same result when we estimate the 
 moral qualities of others. This principle we have 
 already considered at some length, 1 but we wish 
 now to show more clearly its pertinence to our main 
 object of inquiry. There is generally admitted to 
 be a strong analogy between what men think of 
 ' See Chap. II. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 171 
 
 themselves and what they think of others. To point 
 out all the analogies between their thoughts and 
 habits, and the thoughts and habits which they 
 ascribe to others, though it might be instructive and 
 amusing, would not comport with the directness of 
 design which, at this point of our progress, it is im- 
 portant to observe. A few examples of the general 
 admission of this truth will be sufficient to clear the 
 way for the use which we intend to make of it. 
 
 We have seen that belief is not so purely an in- 
 tellectual process, as not to be overruled and con- 
 trolled by the qualities and passions of the heart. 
 For example, when we see a fault or a vice in those 
 whom we love — a friend, a brother, or a parent — 
 our affection so modifies our perception of its odious- 
 ness, that we never see the whole truth and nothing 
 but the truth. In like manner, when a virtue is the 
 virtue of an enemy or a rival, it is ill-favoured with 
 us, and shares at best but the fate of the good man, 
 who is suspected of evil for being found in evil com- 
 pany. The vices, crimes, and cruelties of a success- 
 ful leader of an army are merged in the glory of 
 victory, and seem often to lose their character in our 
 view, so dimly do we perceive the spots that tarnish 
 the objects of our admiration. Soon as we rise in 
 life, like plants starting from the earth and expand- 
 ing their leaves to the glare of the sun, we begin to 
 
172 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 lend our feelings to influences and opinions, which 
 must often be evil where what is evil, so often pre- 
 vails and is approved. Intimately and variously 
 associated as we are with evil opinions and practices 
 in others, which, on account of our partialities, or 
 for the seeming virtues with which they are con- 
 nected, appear scarcely to be evil, it would be strange, 
 when our making evil ours, or our loving it, dimi- 
 nishes the sense of its vileness, if we did not become 
 so allied to evil, as to lose the ability of perceiving 
 justly what is good. That we do acquire this dis- 
 ability, in some degree and by some process, appears 
 to be the consent of mankind. So universal is the 
 influence of our interests and partialities on our 
 judgment of the character and conduct of others, 
 that some recognition of it is made in legal enact- 
 ments, and in all courts of justice. The presence of 
 this influence is spontaneously acknowledged in all 
 the relations and intercourse of life. We expect to 
 see men's prejudices, corruptions, and interests com- 
 ing out in likes and dislikes, and creating or effacing 
 blemishes in the character of all around them. The 
 greatest and the best of men are subject to this in- 
 firmity, this ill eclipse of the lights within them; and 
 we need not here repeat that ignorance, self-suffi- 
 ciency, selfishness, pride, and envy, (forms all in 
 which our cherished depravity lodges itself, and 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 173 
 
 works wonders not readily known to us,) bring 
 darkness into the mind, and render us specially lia- 
 ble to error and partiality in our judgment of others 
 as well as of ourselves. Now the pertinent ques- 
 tion is, whether our spiritual relations and interests, 
 our various passions and corruptions, will be less 
 likely to sully our perceptions, and deprave our 
 judgment of the moral perfections of God? Can 
 we sanely conclude, that as an object of contempla- 
 tion he is the exception to the general law, lying 
 without the sphere of that influence which we have 
 seen darkening our understandings, plaguing our 
 hearts with false interests and hopes, deceiving us 
 in our opinions of our own qualities and virtues, and 
 dropping its images on every object we behold ? 
 When we see the moral imperfections of men giving 
 complexion to their judgment in analogous cases, 
 shall we conclude that their conceptions will be un- 
 affected by them in this the most important of all, 
 the one of all others in which their conduct is ma- 
 nifestly inconsistent with just convictions, and in 
 which they have the greatest temptation to find 
 their likeness where no likeness is? Have we less 
 to gain from discovering a semblance between our- 
 selves and God,. than from finding in us (as we will 
 by reasonings false) goodness equal to that of any 
 of our fellow creatures ? Is our welfare less at 
 15* 
 
174 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 hazard while his favour is uncertain, than when the 
 petty interests of a day clash with the wishes of a 
 being who is hated because he covets and takes to 
 himself what we, perhaps unwisely, desire for our- 
 selves ? Are we less prone to hate him, or to rid 
 ourselves of his displeasure by self-imaginings of a 
 sewet icay to his pardon, when we see his attributes, 
 armed with omnipotence and arrayed against us as 
 transgressors, all calling for the surrender of our 
 fondest aims and delights, and proposing in their 
 stead pleasures for which we have no relish, and 
 pursuits to which all the growth of our life is averse? 
 Is not this a plight from which all the deceits and 
 powers of our nature are stirred to find a riddance, 
 if not by faith and submission, certainly by shutting 
 our eyes to the danger, or, what is more probable, 
 by causing the danger to disappear through our 
 acquired blindness to the defilement and guilt of 
 sin, and a consequent inferring of his favourable 
 aspect towards us ? This would appear to be the 
 common result, judging from the indifference of 
 men who are in this condition. It may be said, 
 however, that their indifference only shows that 
 they see not their danger, not that they have dis- 
 posed of it by this process; but this is drawing the 
 difficulty back into thicker darkness, not bringing 
 it out to the light. Indifference, in the case sup- 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 175 
 
 posed, is either an over-bold, a daring defiance of 
 God, when the truth is fully seen — a thing most 
 unlikely to be effected, and impossible to be at- 
 tained; or it is the fruit of a compromise with sin, 
 of mistaken views of ourselves and of God. There 
 is no middle ground: men are not without opinions 
 on this subject; and if they were, it would only 
 prove them blind to their own blemishes and to the 
 perfections of God, which is the very thing we wish 
 to bring out — their unbelief in things as they are — 
 their belief in them as they are not. 
 
 If we attempt an analysis of this state, we shall 
 find no want of mental processes in it. Men do 
 not accidentally fall into such easy views of their 
 sinfulness as to lose all apprehension of God's dis- 
 pleasure; nor do they secretly arrogate his approba- 
 tion, before undergoing a more secret process by 
 which they succeed in evading the truth, and 
 in possessing him with the same views of them- 
 selves as they, in the vanity of their mind, esteem 
 to be fitting. 1 Not renouncing their sins, not em- 
 
 1 This brings to mind what Coleridge, in his " Table Talk," says 
 in illustration of the pretensions of the church of Rome. " The course 
 of Christianity and the Christian church may not unaptly be likened 
 to a mighty river, which filled a wide channel, and bore along with 
 its waters mud, and gravel, and weeds, till it met a great rock in the 
 middle of its stream. By some means or other the water flows 
 purely, and separated from the filth, in a deeper and narrower course 
 
176 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 bracing the truth in the love of it; but having the 
 'eyes of their understanding darkened' through the 
 practice of sinning — every deception, every preju- 
 dice, every interest, so considered, of which our 
 nature is capable, all are called to their relief — some 
 flattering their passions and self-delusions, some 
 deriding their fears, and others inventing modes of 
 escape; and it is impossible to say how far they will 
 carry them, but carry them into false repose, by 
 causing them to misconceive and discredit things as 
 they are, we know they will. This they have 
 done, and their indifference to spiritual things is the 
 proof of it. They have done it too against the clear- 
 est declarations of God; no ignorance of these de- 
 clarations is pretended, and yet their conclusions 
 fly in the face of them with a rudeness that seems 
 to say that all fear, all belief of them, is gone. This 
 is not an accident in their experience; it is the fruit 
 of a long and varied process. First, sense indulged, 
 sense predominating, sinks, debases, and enslaves 
 reason, and thus impairs its force and vigour; and 
 then, sense and reason, though hardly reason any 
 
 on one side of the rock, and the refuse of the dirt and troubled water 
 goes off on the other in a broader current, and then cries out, We 
 are the river." Ho our corruptions, blinding our eyes, are the more 
 arrogant the greater their excess; and the more complete their 
 separation from the truth, the higher their tide, and the more tur- 
 bid — the readier they arc to cry out, ' We are the virtues.' 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY 177 
 
 longer, seem often to unite against faith in aiding 
 our imperfect and partial views of things. 
 
 It is very observable, from our constitution as it 
 now is, that, if we could banish the fear of evil to 
 come, we should never be willing to change our con- 
 dition for one more spiritual and heavenly. We ap- 
 pear to be made for the world, and insensibly grow 
 to it. We wish for nothing better; and if the nearness 
 and certainty of death did not check our fondness, we 
 could be quite drowned in the pleasure of having an 
 eternity here. We can be amused and pleased with 
 the veriest trifles that have a respect to the present 
 world; yet we cannot be entertained, cannot keep 
 from wearying, while we are confined to hear only 
 of God, and of the provision he has made for us in 
 eternity. If God would let us alone, and not dis- 
 turb our enjoyment, we would think of nothing 
 more. We prefer heaven, indeed, to hell, because 
 we have heard this last is a place of torment; but 
 could we have our wishes, we would prefer to re- 
 main where we are. And so long as we continue 
 of this mind, eternal life will be neglected, with all 
 that belongs to it. We shall have no gratitude for 
 a Saviour's compassion, we shall feel no attractives 
 to be with him, we shall resent his cross, the gospel 
 will be ' foolishness' to us; and when our duty is 
 proposed, we shall feel that we are called to make a 
 
178 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 great sacrifice; the whole interest of our nature will 
 be stirred to resistance; and if we neglect it, it will 
 not be by chance, it will not be turned off through 
 inadvertence; but we shall prefer the world, we shall 
 venture a little, and persuade ourselves more, that the 
 danger, not so great as many would have it consider- 
 ed, will not be increased- by our continued devotion 
 to objects proper to our present enjoyment, and even 
 made necessary to it by the will of the Creator. 
 
 Thus, there is, as we will think, reason in out 
 choice, though that be but sense in the disguise of rea- 
 son which reasons from our affections and preferences 
 (assuming them to be right as they are) to our duty, 
 and infers our safety hi this or that course from our 
 desire to pursue it. Yet so it is, — things appear quite 
 rational that are greatly pleasing and desirable to us. 
 But this our contentedness with the world, when the 
 world goes well, together with our aversion to spi- 
 ritual and eternal things, which is so great that we 
 will not look to them, will not seek them, when we 
 have nothing considerable, nothing satisfying, to 
 enjoy or hope for from the world, yea often, when 
 sin revives and turns all our feelings and remem- 
 brances into one great canker of guilt and dissatis- 
 faction, constitutes a strong ground for inferring 
 that, when we have much of the world to enjoy, and 
 more of it to hope for, when the sense of our sins is 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 179 
 
 merged in the love of them and of ourselves, and spi- 
 ritual things are not less disrelished, we shall find it 
 easy to avert the glare of truth, and give a favourable 
 countenance to our affairs and hopes. But to do 
 this in such a case would not surely render us less 
 chargeable with infidelity: it would be the strongest 
 proof we could give, that we do not take God at his 
 word, and do not credit things as they are; for it is 
 appropriating his favour, and taking for granted our 
 safety, if not innocence, when our sins and worldli* 
 ness are at the flood. Our preference presumes, in- 
 deed, we do not perceive his superior excellence, or 
 perceiving, do not relish it; and our want of solici- 
 tude, while we have not complied with the condi- 
 tions of his favour, shows we have a way of our 
 own to his regard, and are, it may be, attributing to 
 him the blemishes of our own character, which ap- 
 pear to us not to be blemishes, because they are our 
 own, or which appear to be very innocent defects, 
 because it is our interest and pleasure to have them 
 so considered. This is the ground of our security; 
 and, let it be noted, it is as propitious to the claims 
 of our faith as any other which can be supposed ; for 
 we must either admit this view of our case, or we 
 must pretend that we have just conceptions of the 
 character of God and of ourselves, and if we pretend 
 the latter, while we depart not from iniquity and 
 
ISO POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 seek not his favour, our conduct is witness we neither 
 esteem his character nor value his favour; and what is 
 it, not to esteem his character, but to be blind to it, or 
 to think it worse than our own, which we do esteem? 
 what is it, not to value his favour, but to prefer the 
 pleasures of sin to it, to change his truth into a lie, 
 and his glory into an image not his own, but ours? 
 
 When the depravity of our nature centres in one 
 particular direction, or when it shows itself in any 
 ruling passion, it is wonderful how readily we ap- 
 prove it in this character, and how acceptable it is 
 to us in this, while in most other forms it may be 
 odious. The reason of this seems to be the diffi- 
 culty of seeing our own defects, and especially of 
 seeing them as defects, or marks which distinguish 
 us, when they have outgrown all adverse feelings, 
 and become, as it were, the whole of our nature. 1 
 
 1 Our capacity for being swayed and moulded either by a good or 
 evil principle or passion is as philosophically as beautifully expressed 
 m the following lines : — 
 
 Toy-bewitch'd, 
 Made blind by lusts, disherited of soul, 
 No common centre man, no common sire 
 Knoweth ! A sordid, solitary thing, 
 'Mid countless brethren, with a lonely heart, 
 Through courts and cities the smooth savage roams, 
 Feeling himself, his own low self, the whole ; 
 When he by sacred sympathy might make 
 The whole one self ! self,' that no alien knows! 
 Self, spreading still ! Oblivious of its own, 
 Yet all of all possessing ! 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 181 
 
 At first sight, it might appear difficult to under- 
 stand how we can be so grossly imposed upon in a 
 point, which we are capable of knowing so much 
 better than others; but it will not appear so, if we 
 reflect that we are deceived in judging of ourselves, 
 just as we are in judging of other things, when our 
 passions, prejudices, and inclinations are called in as 
 dictators, and we suffer ourselves to see and be con- 
 vinced just so far and no farther than they give us 
 leave. They make it hard for us to pass an equi- 
 table judgment in matters where our interests are 
 concerned, disposing us, when there happen to be 
 strong appearances against the justice of the course 
 to which we incline, to put favourable constructions 
 upon them, and even sometimes, when the probing 
 of interest is deepest, to assign and think we find 
 the best and most convincing reasons where no reason 
 can be seen by others. But the deceit is still stronger 
 with us, and we much poorer casuists, when we come 
 to judge of ourselves, the dearest of all parties; when 
 the question is, what condemnation shall we pass 
 on ourselves, or allow others to pass: — this is the 
 labour — this the matter in which it is not human 
 to see the light, when so much darkness is coveted; 
 not possible to be severe, when there is such an in- 
 stinct, such an impulse to be kind and partial, or to 
 efface, for the time, all the tender impressions, with 
 16 
 
1S2 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 which we find so much reason to be contented, and 
 which have disabled us so long, from thinking justly 
 of ourselves, that, thinking wrongly, has come to be 
 with us, the soundest, as well as the most agreeable 
 thinking we have. Hence it is we every day see 
 men guilty of vicious and dishonest actions, who yet 
 reflect so little, or so partially upon what they have 
 done, that their consciences seem to be free from 
 guilt, or the remotest suspicion, that they are what 
 the tenor and evidence of their life show they are. 
 They see what no one else sees, some secret and flat- 
 tering circumstances in their favour, which make a 
 great difference between their own case and that of 
 other delinquents. Of the many false, revengeful, 
 covetous, vicious, and, if it please, stupid persons, 
 which abound in the world, there is not one that 
 singles out himself as guilty, or that would not think 
 it a slander to have any of his particular crimes or 
 weaknesses, laid to his charge. It may be they join 
 in a cry against sin, in every other form but that in 
 which it prevails in their own practice, or that this 
 form of it is hated in others, while, in themselves, it 
 appears the more devoid of aggravation and turpi- 
 tude, the greater the excess to which it is carried. 
 
 No one is competent to describe the many absurd 
 and palpable deceits and cheats, into which the un- 
 derstanding is betrayed by the sins that habitually 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 183 
 
 beset us; to trace the several turnings and windings 
 of an evil heart, and detect it through all the glosses, 
 shapes, and appearances, which it assumes; but none 
 is more gross and common, than our failing to per- 
 ceive the evil of any sinful temper or indulgence, 
 when our practice, our fondness therein, has trans- 
 ported it to a passion. We cannot but be convinced 
 this is so, if we will look on what is passing around us, 
 especially, if we will look into our hearts and observe 
 how actions stand there, how those which strong 
 inclination prompts us to commit, and custom has 
 made ours, something as our breathing is, are dressed 
 out, as for public appearance, in all the gloss and cha- 
 racter which a flattering hand can give them; while 
 others, to which we feel no propensity, though per- 
 haps not so bad in themselves, find no quarter from 
 us, or at least appear deformed and naked, with all the 
 proofs of folly and viciousness stamped upon them. 
 The man who lives for pleasure, though a most use- 
 less body, cares not that he is useless, yea, worse than 
 useless — knows no happiness but what is seated in his 
 senses, stupid and overgrown with sense — and sees no 
 harm, himself miserably harmless, in the indulgence 
 and gratification of appetites, which, in his reasoning 
 moods, he concludes were given him only for that 
 end. He lives unto himself, yet stoutly despises others 
 who live so in pursuance of different ends, and grows 
 
184 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 perhaps virtuous in his own estimation, through a 
 propensity to congratulate himself on his freedom 
 from their defects, when he owes this exemption to 
 a fulness of iniquity that is running over, and can 
 therefore make no room for more. He who makes it 
 his ohject to gain character and consequence, to esta- 
 blish the fortune and raise the name of his family, 
 though his object be higher and worthier of your 
 praise, runs an equal distance from God, bends 
 his great soul, if you will call it so, to a god of 
 his own, that is unspeakably below himself, and 
 pays his devotions with a diligence which, rightly 
 directed, would be more than sufficient to make 
 his calling sure to 'the inheritance of all things.' 
 In prosecution of what he prizes more than ' all/ 
 and therefore in derogation of < all,' he promises 
 himself contentment with only a portion of 'that 
 which satisfieth not' — he studies, contrives, rises 
 early, goes late to rest, and ' eats the bread of 
 carefulness;' he builds up and pulls down again, 
 levels mountains and raises up valleys, turns rivers 
 into dry ground and dry ground into rivers, all the 
 while ready to pity or condemn those who pursue 
 other designs, but acknowledging God in nothing, and 
 in nothing disapproving of himself. It is the same 
 with the proud, the ambitious, the self-conceited, and 
 many other very common characters in life. They 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 185 
 
 cannot bear their likeness in others; in themselves, 
 when their infirmity or viciousness runs to a passion, 
 it is faultless. They have reasons to show it so. 
 The purely selfish man doubts, when you tell him 
 these are better motives than those which actuate 
 his own mind. He considers the sacrifice of his 
 neighbour for the good of others, was prompted by 
 the same motive, which induced him to withhold his 
 own bounty, the promotion of his individual interest, 
 and that, if there be a difference in their characters, 
 his own is the more worthy, because he has not 
 attempted to cover his designs, or to win favour 
 with the paint of benevolence. The miser decries 
 prodigality, intemperance, and sensuality — vices 
 from which he has been preserved by the love of 
 money. If you persuade him to assist the needy, 
 when he reflects upon it, though it may be the best 
 deed of his life, he will be angry with himself, for 
 having yielded to your solicitation; if you talk to 
 him of the pleasures of beneficence, he will under- 
 stand as little as the blind man would of colours he 
 had never seen. Now, what idea will men of this 
 description naturally form of God? What is there 
 in the humility, the self-denial, the benevolence, 
 which he deems essential to the glory of our nature, 
 that would reconcile them to just conceptions of his 
 character, or permit them to feel complacency in his 
 16* 
 
186 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 will? They must either renounce themselves, or 
 renounce God, if they cannot, through self-flattery, 
 change him into what he is not, and make him (as 
 they do the conduct of others) accord with the do- 
 minant principles of their own character. It is not 
 difficult to imagine which they will do. There is, in 
 their peculiar passion, an overgrowth which will bear 
 no competition, and when pressed to an extremity, 
 it will discharge itself in implacable hate to any 
 thing of a contrary nature. They will, therefore, 
 find it much easier to believe they are in favour with 
 God, to reason themselves bright and acceptable be- 
 fore him, than to welcome sentiments which set at 
 naught all that they have ever done, and all that they 
 have grown fond and perverse in thinking of them- 
 selves. While they remain unchanged, they might, 
 without violence to nature, adopt the language given 
 to mightier, perhaps not to more self-complacent, 
 
 spirits: — 
 
 " What place can be for us 
 
 Within heaven's bound, unless heaven's Lord supreme 
 We overpower 1 Suppose he should relent. 
 
 With what eyes could we 
 
 Stand in his presence humble, and receive 
 Strict laws imposed, to celebrate his throne 
 With warbled hymns, and to his Godhead sing 
 
 Forced hallelujahs 1 
 
 This must be our task 
 
 In heaven, this our delight ; how wearisome 
 Eternity so spent, in worship paid 
 
 To whom we hate 
 
 i" 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 187 
 
 If it be in accordance with the prevailing taste, 
 the strongest growth of individuals, to have such 
 views of heaven and of its worship, we may con- 
 clude that all men will cherish views of these and 
 of like objects, bearing a clear analogy to the varie- 
 ties of their own character, and, of course, delusive 
 and unworthy. 
 
 There are other and very different cases, in which 
 our judgment is carried by habit and association, 
 which may serve to illustrate the same truth. He, 
 who conforms not to a prevailing fashion, though he 
 conforms to one, once equally approved by those 
 who are now offended with his singularity, will 
 soon be thought destitute of common taste and judg- 
 ment, so great is the influence of association over 
 our sense of propriety and elegance. A vice, also, 
 which is detested by a man at one time, so often 
 prevails in his subsequent life, without exciting his 
 shame or remorse, that we are ready to say vice 
 needs only to be practised to be approved; and in- 
 deed this result is often seen in the changes which 
 occur in the character of large communities. Na- 
 tions, as well as individuals, differ from each other 
 in nothing, more than in their shame or approbation 
 of vices and practices, which the Scriptures and 
 right reason abundantly condemn. If fashion and 
 practice in dress, in manners, and in vices, operate 
 
1S8 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 in this manner upon our tastes and decisions, why- 
 may not they or similar causes— the obliquities and 
 peculiarities of our own character — bewilder and 
 pervert our judgment of moral qualities, when we 
 look at them as existing in the character of God? 1 
 Light enough would burst on this subject, if we 
 should open the history of our race, and see what 
 wild and discordant opinions have been entertained, 
 what wretched ignorance of most evident, and what 
 
 ' " In one of the lunatic asylums of France, there is a maniac who 
 is labouring under an interesting delusion. His serious impression 
 is, that he was beheaded during the revolution, and that another per- 
 son's head has been substituted for his own ! Hypochondriacs have 
 ere now fancied themselves hand-organs, articles of household furni- 
 ture, or steam-engines — to say nothing of beasts, birds, and reptiles. 
 Some have imagined themselves to be frogs imbedded in stone; 
 others that they were sheets of glass, and would break to pieces 
 (being cracked) if they attempted to move. These are extreme 
 cases ; but that of the guillotined maniac applies, with some small 
 variation, to a far larger class of persons than may be supposed. 
 To meet a man on the outside of a lunatic asylum, who believes 
 that he has another person's head on his shoulders, is any thing but 
 uncommon. How many of our ode writers have believed that they 
 were severally possessed of the head of Pindar 1 Where is the ora- 
 tor who hesitates to point to his own individual caput as the head 
 of Demosthenes ? Scott's head is on a dozen pair of shoulders at 
 least ; and there is more than one writer living who can boast of 
 the identical head of Milton. We are daily introduced to illustrious 
 members of the family of the Wrongheads, who have never yet been 
 inside a lunatic asylum." The writer (unknown to us) might have 
 continued, that the vanity, selfism, or what not, which prompts so 
 many to fancy they have the heads of others, would as easily appro- 
 priate their hearts, and as convincingly, with sufficient motive, dis- 
 cover their likeness to great virtue as to great genius. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 189 
 
 ready belief of most absurd, principles in religion 
 and morals, men have disclosed, who were even 
 knowing and learned in many respects, but untaught 
 of God in these. 
 
 Our own heart is a garden where all that is whole- 
 some and delightful has claim to grow, but a garden 
 now turned to a heath: it is a fountain where all 
 knowledge springs, but a fountain which our cor- 
 ruptions have sealed up; it is a book, once plain and 
 legible, but a book now so interlined with the inser- 
 tion of our good works, and defaced with the erasure 
 of our misdeeds, that we cannot read our own his- 
 tory in it, though it be as one written with our own 
 hand. It has come to be reason enough for us, that 
 we are good, if we be not ' as this publican,' if we 
 keep ' clean the outside of the cup and platter/ if 
 we ( outwardly appear righteous unto men,' though 
 within we be f full of hypocrisy and iniquity.' 
 Though we be already on the lowgrounds of de- 
 generacy, and choose to remain there, yet if we be 
 raised as molehills above the common level, we 
 become dizzy with our mountain bulk and height, 
 and all glory seems to rise and set on us, reaching 
 not to the depth below. It is our elevation that 
 charms us so: it may be but a cold and barren one; 
 lower places may indeed be blooming and teeming 
 with the loveliest flowers and the choicest fruits; 
 
190 POrULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 still it is enough for our glorying that they are the 
 lowlands, and that we are the heights. But though 
 we are so easily deceived, so patiently ignorant of 
 ourselves, and so inapt to take instruction directly 
 from our own hearts; still we may discern, if we 
 will not own, the features of our nature in the con- 
 duct of others. Facts in human practice, when con- 
 sidered in their origin and effects, when viewed as 
 reaching before and after, have a relationship to us 
 which we cannot deny, and assume the dignity of 
 the truest 'philosophy, teaching by example.' The 
 instruction thus imparted seems to come to us on 
 our own authority; we yield to it with something 
 of the grace, not to say elation, with which we re- 
 ceive the respect that is shown to ourselves. Facts, 
 standing out and staring on us in every direction, 
 evince that we are liable to the grossest error in our 
 estimate of moral qualities, and that the great bent 
 of our nature is to ascribe our likeness, or nothing 
 better, to other beings, be our character what it may. 
 Changes for worse are going on in the moral and 
 religious sentiments of men, and no thought is taken 
 of it, and no depreciation is felt. They are quickly 
 at a distance from the goodness, if goodness it be 
 called that was none, which caused them to look 
 with horror on practices they now adopt and ap- 
 prove. The same is true of churches, neighbour- 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 191 
 
 hoods, and governments. Their degeneracy does 
 not come in like a flood, bearing away at once all 
 established opinions; but it steals its way along, 
 showing no front that shocks the better sense, giving 
 motion to the still waters of pride and self-confi- 
 dence, loosing slowly the joints and pins of faith, 
 raising differences to be made up by a compromise 
 of better convictions, yet holding itself distant, till 
 all is done without exciting dangerous alarms; so 
 that, when men think themselves quite as good as 
 ever, a new and evil order of things is in vogue; 
 religion has her temples and followers yet, but her 
 spiritual songs and devotions have nearly died away, 
 the live coals on her altars are going out, and the 
 worshippers are fancying themselves in a good con- 
 dition, if they offer to God but the actions of what 
 is now, though it was not lately so, an ordinary and 
 moral life, without the scandal and alloys of a great 
 impiety. When the true fervour and spirit of reli- 
 gion are thus lost, and its hopes still retained, no 
 wonder that men bring to it their i mint, anise, and 
 cummin,' and stoutly defend its carnal ceremonies, 
 high masses, and absolutions; for it is much easier 
 to put in pretensions to holiness upon such a me- 
 chanical system as is left of it, than where the cha- 
 racter is only to be got and maintained by a painful 
 conflict with ourselves, a patient submission of our 
 
192 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 wills to a service, which is as difficult as improving 
 to our nature, because it improves only when it 
 crosses and changes it. The current of our nature 
 runs from the Creator: it may be clogged and di- 
 rected this and the other way by our own creations, 
 but never can be turned back by them. We may 
 inflict wounds and pains upon ourselves, but we 
 shall not find it so easy to excite a holy love to ob 
 jects that are disagreeable to our hearts. We may 
 daily cross ourselves with the hand, and count our 
 beads; but nature will resent the task of daily num- 
 bering our sins, and crossing our fond desires. We 
 may offer the sacrifice of bulls and rams, starve em- 
 bodies, or give them to the flames; but we shall find 
 it more difficult to offer up our spirits as in dust and 
 ashes to God ; more difficult a great deal to give 
 him in sacrifice ' the works of the flesh,' the lusts 
 of pride, anger, intemperance, and revenge. We 
 may wash and swim in holy water, and receive at 
 the confessional absolution on absolution; but tc 
 live so as to find it through grace, not at the hands 
 of men, but at the hands of God ; to gain an unction 
 from on high — this is the great achievement. So 
 strong is the propensity in our nature to sense and 
 self-reliance, that the understanding is unequal for 
 preserving a just self-estimation, and no match for 
 the impression of outward things: there may be the 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 193 
 
 greatest propriety and purity in things of this na- 
 ture, nothing retained in our worship but what, 
 duly considered, would excite and assist it; still 
 this propensity, if unchecked, will show itself in a 
 disposition to thank God that we are not ' as other 
 men,' dreamers, bigots, or extortioners; while we 
 are perhaps relying on external rites, c straining at 
 gnats, and swallowing camels/ keeping up appear- 
 ances when reality is gone, and contenting our- 
 selves with shadows when we might have substance. 
 Looking to these changes, to the secret processes 
 of them, and to their effects in depraving the judg- 
 ment, it would be a singular stupidity in us not to 
 see that there is no security for the correctness of 
 our moral sentiments, but in the grace of God, and 
 that we are liable, as others, to be turned and de- 
 luded ' after the same example of unbelief.' When, 
 therefore, we aspire to know God, or to know our- 
 selves, we shall but grow in the confidence of igno- 
 rance, unless we first empty ourselves of all vain 
 conceits, and our hearts be fully convinced of our 
 own vileness, yea, nothingness, in his sight. If we 
 bring into our service high thoughts of ourselves, 
 we shall have low thoughts of God ; if we turn our 
 desires and fondnesses into judges, they will clear 
 the guilty. 
 
 17 
 
194 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 He that ' builds his house upon the sand;' 1 that 
 ' walketh in darkness;' 2 that i knoweth not the way 
 into the city;' 3 that 'hath said in his heart, There 
 is no God/ 4 the Scriptures style a 'fool/ a man 
 whose corruptions have rendered him void of un- 
 derstanding in sacred things, and hence the felicity 
 of that expression of Solomon, ' the wickedness of 
 folly, even of foolishness.' 5 On subjects purely in- 
 tellectual men have had the absurdest notions, and 
 the very excess of their absurdity has rendered 
 them tenacious of their truth, for the greater the 
 error, the more unwelcome is the exposure of it; 
 but we should never believe, if we did not know, 
 they could be so far forsaken of their reason, yet 
 having so much impression of the existence and 
 power of a Deity, as to fall down in his worship 
 before stocks and stones which their own hands had 
 carved, to read their fortunes in the star&, yea, even 
 in the palms of their hands, and to guide their enter- 
 prises by the auguries of a providence made known 
 by the flight, the posture, or the singing of birds. 
 How absurdly, indeed, has man's sentiment of a 
 Deity been disclosed ! The annals of idolatry and 
 polytheism, with all their teaching, teach that there 
 
 » Matt. vii. 26. 2 Eccl. ii. 14. 3 lb. x. 15. 
 
 4 Psalm xiv. 1. * Eccl. vii. 25. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 195 
 
 is a true God, and that the tendency of our nature is 
 to hring him down and fashion him as one of our- 
 selves. Some degree of religious belief has de- 
 scended through all the generations of men, with 
 modifications as various as their character and con- 
 dition. It is not that they believe nothing, but that 
 they believe not the truth, which constitutes their 
 idolatry — for something, it seems, they will believe; 
 they will have a futurity, rewards and punishments, 
 a providence; but they all bear stamps of their own 
 creation, and show a carving and moulding to hu- 
 man tastes. 
 
 Now it matters not to the nature of idolatry, 
 which as to the true God is but another name for 
 infidelity, whether men make images and bow down 
 to them, or entertain notions of God which repre- 
 sent him to the mind without his perfections — such 
 in any respect as he is not, such as they are, sueh as 
 any thing is; for we but debase him by our loftiest 
 comparisons — there is nothing ' like unto the Lord 
 our God, who humbleth himself to behold the things 
 that are in heaven and in the earth.' 1 Our idols 
 may be 'without form, and void;' we may not call 
 them 'legion/ but one, and that a spiritual being; 
 yet if we endow him with our nature, make him 
 speak peace to our fears, when our unmuffled guilt 
 
 1 Psalm cxiii. 5, 6. 
 
196 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 cries there is and can be no peace in our way of 
 seeking it, what elevation can our faith and devo- 
 tion give us? what better do we than they who wor- 
 ship gods of their own hands? They choose a 
 more painful service, one less indulgent to nature ; 
 we rest our safety on no difficult conditions, incur 
 no expense to our desires, and have the matter laid 
 out to our taste at once. 
 
 It is clearly observable there is that in our nature 
 which has ( sought out many inventions/ 1 which 
 will hew out to itself * cisterns,' and rest in them, 
 though they be * broken,' and < can hold no water,' 2 
 will l climb up some other way,' 3 will do any thing 
 to gain its end; but how to find rest in Christ, it has 
 no understanding, nor will have any; it labours or 
 rests according to its own provisions, but never 
 comes to the truth, nor will come, because it ' seeks 
 it not by faith, but as it were by works' 4 — verifying 
 by all its devices the words, e Behold, I lay in Zion 
 a stumbling-stone and rock of offence.' Within the 
 circle we thus draw for ourselves, we too often run 
 the race of life, try all experiments, and sit down at 
 last, wearied and empty — in utter despair of suc- 
 cess — having nothing to trust to, nor knowing where 
 to lay the fault, whether in the incapacity of our 
 nature, or the insufficiency of the provisions of the 
 1 Eccl. ix. 29. 2 j er> ii, 13. 3 j hn x. 1. 4 Rom. ix. 32, 33. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. l\) ( 
 
 Creator. We think we have done well — done what 
 we could — but our foundation fails, dread darkness 
 covers the future, and we know not which way to 
 turn or where to betake ourselves for refuge. We 
 trust to any thing before Christ, or trust him blindly 
 now for want of other trusts, drop dead for his arms, 
 when dropping we can catch on nothing else, and 
 take him, when we have not the sense that we take 
 him — a choice of evils. What so hard to believe 
 or do, as that which turns our wisdom to foolish- 
 ness, and brings us learners at the foot of the cross? 
 What so thwarts our unconsidering humour as to be 
 shut up to self-loathing, and left to utter dependence 
 on the grace of others? What shifts we make of it! 
 What colours fancy on us, and what smiles provoke, 
 to rid ourselves of fear! Our many-formed unbe- 
 lief — stoutof heart and witty of invention — drives out 
 the conviction here and there, discharges the cloud, 
 and brings on the light and calm again. In every 
 form it takes, it has our features, and its reasonings 
 all a tincture of our virtues. No wonder men often 
 find their self-sufficiency a greater trouble than their 
 sins, and take the truths of God easier than the sur- 
 feits of his bounty — their faith has put them to 
 sleep. They fancy him to be, if not ' altogether 
 such a one as themselves,' 1 yet such as makes them 
 
 i Psalm 1.21. 
 
 17* 
 
198 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 think * they were in great fear, where no fear was. n 
 And if we would largely consider this tendency of 
 our nature, it might lead us to discover the causes of 
 our indifference to the truths of divine revelation. 
 That we have an indifference, which appears won- 
 derful, and unlike any thing else in human practice, 
 when contrasted with the weight and interest of 
 what is revealed— that we have this tendency to 
 invest all the beings of our contemplation with our 
 own qualities— both are truths which we do but 
 prove by being blind to them, and which, if they 
 may not claim our assent that they are revealed, 
 may claim it at least that they are supported by the 
 most convincing evidence of analogy. Whence is it 
 that the Ethiopians, when they would paint their 
 gods in the highest style of beauty, colour them 
 black, if not because it is their own complexion? 
 Whence the character ascribed by impostors and 
 idolaters to their deities, if not from the principle 
 of transferring their own qualities to the objects of 
 their worship? Whence the sensual paradises and 
 Elysian fields which these deities are to provide for 
 their votaries, if the former are not supposed to 
 approve of those sensual gratifications which are the 
 chief delight of the latter, and which, therefore, 
 they imagine to be the^ appropriate reward of their 
 1 Psalm liii. 5. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 199 
 
 service? Whence is it that they are generally sup- 
 posed to be capricious, revengeful, the protectresses 
 of thieves and impostors, or the encouragers of de- 
 structive passions, if there be not a tendency in us 
 to conceive all beings like ourselves, and to trans- 
 fer to the invisible agent, which we worship as 
 God, those qualities with which we are familiarly 
 acquainted, or those of which we are intimately 
 conscious? Whence is it that many, on whom 
 the true light shines, think themselves so moral 
 in their practice as not to need an atonement, 
 and find it so difficult to believe in a pure and spi- 
 ritual religion which requires them to 'look at 
 things not seen,' if they have not too low concep- 
 tions of the nature of sin and holiness, to have any 
 relish for a religion which does not approve and 
 reward their virtues, or to think it credible that 
 beings so inoffensive as they should ever find aught 
 but smiles of favour in the face of Him who made 
 them? Whence is it that others can rely on the 
 atonement for pardon and salvation, without any re- 
 novation of their nature, if they are not so in love 
 with their lusts and vices, that they have lost the sense 
 of their guilt, and the fear that they are displeasing 
 to God? Whence is it, if not on this ground, that 
 they can count on fulness of joy in his presence, 
 without a change of those dispositions which create 
 
200 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 a disrelish for his worship here? Whence is it we 
 so often see men, who profess to believe the word 
 of God, dissatisfied with plain and uncompromising 
 exhibitions of its truth, if sin has not wrought a 
 proneness in our nature to narrow the breadth of its 
 commandments, and to make them wink and con- 
 nive at our cherished imperfections ? Whence is it 
 we so often see delinquents lull their remorse by- 
 making allowances for the strength of temptation, 
 and by considering examples of similar delinquency 
 in the life of others, not repenting or entertaining 
 the design of their duty, if there be not something 
 in the very alarms of guilty men which drives them 
 to means of justification, and so, if may be, to put 
 out the fire which- burns and lightens in their spi- 
 rits, without removing the materials by which it was 
 enkindled? Whence the blindness to moral colours, 
 and the stupidity which we see to be the unfailing 
 concomitants of great viciousness of life, if there be 
 not something in the practice of iniquity that tends 
 to extinguish the sense of its odiousness, and to fill 
 the sinner's mind with dreams of security and ac- 
 ceptance, just when his danger is greatest? Whence 
 do we see men devoid of religion so prone to judge 
 of the excellency of its precepts, and of its Author, 
 from the defects of those who profess to be influ- 
 enced by it, as if water from a polluted stream suited 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 201 
 
 their taste better than that of a pure fountain, as if 
 they could discern the character ot a distant object 
 better in twilight than in the blaze of noon, or their 
 reason directed them into swamps and marshes to 
 determine the true and healthful properties of springs 
 that issue in perpetual clearness, sweetness, and 
 abundance from the heights around them? Whence 
 this very ominous propensity, if they would not 
 weigh themselves in * unjust balances,' if there be 
 not too much brightness in the sun for their unprac- 
 tised eyes, if they ' love not darkness rather than 
 light, because their deeds are evil' ? 
 
 It is plain from these and similar examples that men 
 are liable to the greatest delusion in their estimate of 
 their own qualities, and that the same causes operate 
 to delude them in their judgment of others. It is also 
 plain that the chief cause of this delusion, in what 
 measure so ever it exists, is sin. It renders us very 
 incompetent judges of the excellence of any being 
 with whom it is our interest to be found in likeness, 
 and this incompetence will be greater or smaller as 
 w r e are more or less depraved. 1 This principle 
 
 1 " It is the soul's prerogative, its fate 
 
 To change all outward things to its own state : 
 If right itself, then all without is well ; 
 If wrong, it makes of all around a hell. 
 So multiplies the soul its joy or pain, 
 Gives out itself, itself takes back again." 
 
202 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 granted, let it once be clearly seen that our moral 
 character spreads itself through our perceptions, and 
 •controls our judgment of the character of others, and 
 it will result that we may be infidels, as to the real 
 truth and character of God, when we think ourselves 
 very fair believers. Very fair believers then we 
 may be, yet believing nothing as it is, nothing as 
 adapted to awaken the conscience and improve the 
 heart, but much that is contrary to all good effect. 
 We suppose this to be the state of secular men gene- 
 rally. We think it the origin of their indifference 
 to religion; of their worldliness in a world that lies 
 so near eternity, and has so much of its influence 
 expended in it; of their wretched misconception of, 
 and hostility to, doctrines which cross their nature, 
 and presuppose in them a repugnance to what is 
 good. Theirs is, therefore, a sinfulness with which 
 they are not acquainted, and which they cannot cre- 
 dit until a revolution takes place, both in themselves 
 and in their oldest and fondest associations and 
 hopes. As unsuspected, and as operating in this 
 manner, it is the basis of popular infidelity. And 
 so considering it, we shall have, perhaps, a better 
 understanding of our difficulty, and of our remedy. 
 This view, certainly, accords with our experience 
 and observation. Human depravity, modified and 
 restrained as it may be, drives directly to this result. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 203 
 
 So long as we are without proper views of sin in 
 ourselves, we see not but this must be the case. We 
 may change in outward actions; we may have legal 
 convictions; the terrors of the Lord may make us 
 afraid; but till the Spirit lays the rule of truth to our 
 actions, and ' takes of the things of Jesus Christ' and 
 shows them to us, — till the commandment revives 
 and we die, — we shall know nothing as we ought 
 to know; we shall not know our weakness and de- 
 pendence; we shall not see what an ' evil and bit- 
 ter thing' sin is; we shall discover nothing faulty in 
 our vain attempts to wash it away. We may have 
 fears from its guilt, but we shall have no shame from 
 its defilement. All our thoughts about it will be 
 thoughts of unbelief — motions for a compromise with 
 the truth. We see not how any view of sin, or of 
 our condition, that does not humble us, cause us to 
 take side with God against ourselves, and bring us 
 all-nothing-worth and thankful to Christ, can of 
 itself be entitled to a better name than infidelity. It 
 cannot comprehend the truth; it procures a peace 
 which is contrary to it, and obstructs its access to 
 the mind. What more can infidelity do? It would 
 not leave us to think we are believers. But what 
 advantage is it to think so, if we believe not the 
 truth, and have only a creed of errors? It may pre- 
 vent our seeing that we hang in air, but can yield us 
 
204 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 no support. la either case, it is a want of correct 
 views of truth that does tae mischief. We see no- 
 thing but this to hinder our embracing the truth in 
 the love of it, as a man will betimes and thankfully 
 fly for safety, when he sees his danger. The more 
 general impression with us is, that we see things 
 straight and right enough, but a want of will or 
 power keeps us back. But we do not take this to 
 be a true statement of our case. We see nothing 
 right and fully, and a want of such seeing keeps us 
 where we are; that is, we do not take God at his 
 word; we let our nature interpret things for us; we 
 cook and season them to our relish, and then think, 
 if the effect is not adequate, the fault is not in us, — 
 not at least in our want of accuracy. Did we see 
 the whole truth, see sin as a most abominable thing, 
 hated of God, and hateful in itself, see ourselves, 
 Med by foolish and hurtful lusts/ weak, erring, 
 knowing little, and not able to know much, we 
 should see wisdom in what we now call < the foolish- 
 ness of God;' we should abhor ourselves, and repent 
 in dust and ashes; things, which we had only heard 
 of and thought about before, we should see and 
 know, and we should, without thought of any in- 
 vention, gladly repair to the ' fountain set open for 
 sin and uncleanness.' 1 Nothing can be truer than 
 1 Compare this with what Job says, chap. xlii. 3—7. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 205 
 
 the deficiency of the sinner's views of truth, espe- 
 cially the deficiency of his views of the nature of 
 sin, and of his own sinfulness; and as this is a suffi- 
 cient, a rational explanation of his indifference, we 
 need look no farther. It would be well to stop on 
 this in the full conviction that we are deluded; that 
 we do not see things as they are, do not know our- 
 selves, and can do nothing as of ourselves. This 
 would be so far a right understanding, and might 
 lead on to right action: but no — we will not receive 
 truths so deeply wounding and offensive to our 
 humour. We are not i undone' yet; we do not be- 
 lieve God when he says, i Thou hast destroyed thy- 
 self, but in me is thy help.' x no — this is not our 
 condition. We can help ourselves yet, can improve 
 a little, can do i works without the grace of Christ,' 
 which will make us more worthy of the favour of 
 God. We have not truth enough in the mind to 
 bring us to Christ, but just enough to make that dis- 
 agreeable to us, and to put us upon a task-religion, a 
 faithless service, (faithless as to God's word,) whereby 
 we stifle our apprehensions of guilt and danger. All 
 these are attempts to patch up a righteousness of our 
 own, and indicate, not faith in the gospel, but a de- 
 sire to i climb up some other way,' to bring a ' price 
 for life;' to evade the punishment, without abandon- 
 
 « Hos. xiii. 9 
 IS 
 
206 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 ing the practice of sin. They all suppose the belief 
 of some native goodness in us, and a disposition to 
 make the best of our state before God. They show, 
 therefore, the grossest misconception of essential truth, 
 a virtual disbelief of the peculiar doctrines of the gos- 
 pel. Those truths, which should inspire hope and con- 
 fidence in the breast of an awakened sinner, are blank 
 and void. The whole system is without form; as 
 a ' root out of dry ground,' having no uses that we 
 should desire it. We have views which dispose us to 
 dispense with the atonement of Christ; but this surely 
 appears to be a cheering and indispensable truth, 
 if we see our deserts aright, — yet a very humiliating 
 and offensive one, if we see them not. Hence the 
 prevalent disposition to lower the standard of holi- 
 ness to what we conceive to be within the reach of 
 our own powers. Hence the holiest men have the 
 deepest sense of their indebtedness to Christ, and the 
 most affecting apprehensions of personal un worthi- 
 ness and defilement; and this brings us again to the 
 principle we have had in view; for whence have the 
 holiest men the most vivid perceptions of the nature 
 of sin, and of their own ill-desert, if it be not true 
 that our perception of moral qualities, whether good 
 or evil, is modified by our own character? 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 207 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Singularities in human conduct — Importance of knowing ourselves — 
 Proneness to possess God with our own likeness — Causes uf delu- 
 sion in our judgment of him — Application of the subject to the 
 reader — Reasons for distrusting his own opinions shown by various 
 analogies — Continued argument with him — Separate responsi- 
 bility of the head and heart — Peculiar evidence of divine truth — 
 Difficulties in the way of believing — When they are insuperable — 
 How overcome — Misconceptions of the gospel — Necessity of divine 
 grace — Questions and troubles about human ability considered — 
 Office and sacrifice of Christ how estimated — Characteristics of 
 the times — Needful despair — Proofs of infidelity. 
 
 Most of us are aware of the frauds and deceptions 
 which run through all ranks of men, and endanger 
 our peace and security in a thousand ways; and it is 
 singular so few of us should ever be upon our guard, 
 or see that more fatal hypocrisy by which we de- 
 ceive and overreach our own hearts. It is indeed 
 very singular we can be so readily convinced of the 
 self-delusions of others, and yet never be suspicious 
 and wary of ourselves ; so sharply observant of 
 things around us, and yet never retire within our- 
 selves to notice what is passing there. It is a flat- 
 tering and beguiling distemper which we have, and, 
 if we will not undertake the task of its examination 
 
208 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 with a curious and impartial eye, how knowing so- 
 ever we are in other respects, we shall be ignorant 
 in this, the most important of all; we shall be unap- 
 prized of a thousand mistakes; our self-deceits will 
 carry us from ourselves, and bring us in such reports 
 on what we do as suit our inclinations. 
 
 The conduct and experience of men, as we have 
 seen, furnish strong analogies in support of the posi- 
 tion, that there is a general tendency in our nature 
 to ascribe our own views of sin and of ourselves, to 
 God; to possess him, so to speak, with our own cha- 
 racter. This tendency admitted, we see at once the 
 great importance of being acquainted with ourselves, 
 and with the various deceits to which we are liable. 
 Without such acquaintance, we can have no ground 
 for trust in our views of the character of God, 
 or of our standing in his sight. Nay, so apt is 
 our depraved nature to fondle and cherish its own 
 creations, that the great danger is, our self-deception 
 will be more complete and inveterate on this subject 
 than on any other, and we become chiefly wedded 
 to the worship of that object, which bears the 
 greatest likeness to ourselves, as thereby we fall in 
 smoothly with our own propensity, and come un- 
 awares to honour ourselves most, yea, to receive the 
 worship which is offered as to another. We cannot 
 be too apprehensive of this danger, or too highly 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 209 
 
 prize a knowledge of the causes from which it pro- 
 ceeds. 
 
 The conclusion, to which our past reasoning has 
 tended, may seem to have little to do with us, if we 
 think we have little to fear from the impositions of 
 an evil heart. It should therefore have a more par- 
 ticular consideration, that we may not fail of being 
 duly impressed by it, or evade its application to our- 
 selves, through the same deceits by which so great a 
 cheat is first effected. We are, certainly, in no case 
 so liable to this deception, as when judging of the 
 character of God. If we can divest him of every 
 aspect of terror and evil to us, we shall have gained 
 the point of nature; we shall rise in self-estimation 
 as we depreciate in excellence, and so prove ' there 
 is a way that seemeth right unto a man, when the 
 end thereof is death.' Who will hold his eye to the 
 light which ' makes manifest the hidden counsels' 
 and miseries of the heart? Who will seek to be 
 familiar with moral perfections which require him 
 to forsake ' all ungodliness and worldly lusts,' which 
 will not bend to accommodate any selfish passion, 
 and which pass as in streams of lightning along the 
 path of his being, and through the recollections of 
 his soul, giving image to the dangers which beset 
 him who does not conform, and move in har- 
 mony with them? 0, who can trust his ability to 
 18* 
 
210 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 think worthily and impartially, of the perfections 
 of Him ' whose eye' 
 
 • Views all things at one view,' 
 
 when, as a sinner unreconciled, his passions, fears, 
 interests and hopes, with ceaseless cry, are impor- 
 tuning and bribing him for a decision in their favour? 
 Will you, reader, refuse to allow the testimony of a 
 supposed criminal, to his own innocence, when the 
 interest he has to escape conviction is involved in 
 the punishment of a day, and yet confide in the tes- 
 timony of your deceitful heart, to the nature of the 
 moral attributes of God, when you are induced to 
 level them to your own nature, or to elevate your 
 nature to them, by all the interest you feel, to con- 
 tinue your sinful indulgences and spare your fond 
 desires, without parting with the hope of his favour 
 at last? Will you refuse in a court of law to admit 
 the testimony of certain individuals on account of 
 the partialities that grow out of the intimate con- 
 nexions of life; or will you refuse to commit your 
 your cause to be tried by jurymen, who are suspected 
 of prejudice against your interest, and yet pretend 
 that you can be trusted to judge worthily of the per- 
 fections of God, with whom you are connected as 
 a dependent and accountable sinner, and between 
 whose service and your inclinations there is a hos- 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. Sll 
 
 tility, which commenced with your moral being, and 
 has strengthened with your years? We need not 
 say that neither your philosophy, nor practice in 
 other respects, justifies this vain presumption. But 
 if you do not so judge, the question is, why are you so 
 indifferent to spiritual things? It is clear you would 
 have alarms for your welfare, if you had just con- 
 ceptions of God, — for all his requirements and pur- 
 poses are not only consistent with his character, but 
 emanations and proofs of its perfection. Should you 
 see a criminal, under sentence of death, to whom 
 conditions of pardon had been proposed, gazing 
 coolly on the preparations making for his execution, 
 you would conclude he either did not perceive his 
 danger, or else had determined to die. But as a 
 sinner, it may be, you are ready to own you do not 
 see your danger, and cannot confide in the justness 
 of your notions of God, and still have not deter- 
 mined to die in your sins. You must then trust in 
 something. What is it ? ' Show me thy faith by 
 thy works.' If faith have works and you show them 
 not, but show contrary works, are they not the 
 works of infidelity? To say nothing of dissolute- 
 ness, profaneness, or viciousness of any kind, where 
 pride, covetousness, discontent, uncharitableness, 
 impatience, pusillanimity, and 'such like,' abound, 
 can faith be there ? Can a man believe there is a 
 
212 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 God, and still affront him with a cherished preference 
 of the world? Can he believe there is a judgment 
 to come, a heaven, a hell, and yet so little regard his 
 life, slight infinite blessedness, and rush on infinite 
 wo? We may well suspect there is no such faith. 
 We rather think he is making his escape through the 
 ways of his own invention. You see not your dan- 
 ger, or seeing it, are not alarmed. Is there not some 
 self-deception in your case? There is, certainly, 
 ground for industrious inquiry into the nature of 
 your indifference to the peril of your condition. 
 You are under sentence of death. Conditions of 
 pardon are proposed to you. You do not accept 
 them. The time of execution is at hand. You are 
 approaching the fatal crisis, and still your attention 
 is occupied with the pleasures of the way. You do 
 not expect to suffer the penalty of the law, and why 
 are you indifferent to the peril of outliving in guilt 
 'the day of salvation?' Clearly, you see not your 
 guilt — you value not the pardon offered to you. 
 And what is this but infidelity? What is it but to 
 doubt the word of God, to reject his Son, < to make 
 him a liar,' and to suppose he would terrify you with 
 intimations of evil, to which you are not exposed by 
 the principles of your character? It is in effect to 
 doubt his opposition to the reign of sin and Satan, 
 and to make him, not < altogether such a one as thy- 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 213 
 
 self,' but a great deal worse than you allow yourself 
 to be. Your account of the matter may be this and 
 another; your quiet of conscience may come in this 
 and another way, but all may be reduced to infidelity 
 at last. Not to perceive things God has revealed, is 
 to doubt them. Lose your right and effective per- 
 ceptions of them as you will, traces of unbelief may 
 be found in all the turns and windings of the pro- 
 cess. There is not a sin you commit but has a 
 strong spice of it, and your indifference, your 
 worldliness, your distaste to spiritual things, is but 
 its ripened fruit. 
 
 Will you shun this conclusion by saying you per- 
 ceive the peril of your condition, and are yet able to 
 rest because you regard it to be distant? To say 
 this, is to confess you discover no reasonableness or 
 propriety in the divine law to constrain you to obey 
 it, no loveliness or beauty in holiness that you should 
 now desire it, no deformity or turpitude in sin that 
 you should now avoid and hate it. It is doubting 
 God's anger against evil doers, and presuming on 
 his forbearance and your security, against the decla- 
 rations of his word and the course of his providence. 
 It is preferring other things to his favour for the 
 present, and presenting a reason for future amend- 
 ment — escape from threatened evil — which infers in 
 you no sense of obligation to amend, and no con- 
 
214 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 sideration for his will. It is discarding as delusive 
 or false all his promises of good, (not trusting in 
 them at all, not at all prizing the blessing they en- 
 gage,) and only fearing evil as our nature but too 
 well suspects it, rather than fearing it as revealed. 
 This is the amount of your defence; and it leads us 
 to the same conclusion from which it was designed 
 to afford an escape, namely, that your indifference 
 to the peril of )^our condition arises from the infi- 
 delity involved in the belief that God regards things 
 as you do; that he is ' altogether such a one as you 
 are.' It is a most specious deception, that which 
 enables you to disbelieve all you will, under the 
 pretence of faith and the colour of believing all you 
 should. As in the Romish doctrine the sacramental 
 bread is made God, and souls are thus deluded, so 
 your depravity, running through and debasing your 
 thoughts of God, amounts to the possessing of him 
 with yourselves — a making of him such a divinity as 
 may prove destructive to your soul — an entering and 
 concealing of your sins in him, so that, you come not 
 to know your difference from him, or to fear his dis- 
 pleasure with you. Such appears to be the ground of 
 your security, all smoothed and chalked by that airy 
 casuist of our bosoms, who looks into the clear sun 
 at noon, and all is darkness; who casts on all objects 
 his own shadow, and therefore claims them for his 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 215 
 
 kindred, — changes all colours into one, and boasts 
 that one to be his own. 
 
 That the matter presents itself to your mind in 
 this form and character, is not at all likely. You 
 may or not have some definable ground of religious 
 trust — your faith may take in the nominal doctrines 
 of Christianity; but the secret of its inefficiency, 
 where does that lie? Not in the nature of the things 
 to be believed; and none pretend they have any 
 power in their name. It is not the name of a Chris- 
 tian, but Christ that is in you, that gives you life 
 and power with God. Whether you are trusting in 
 your own righteousness, in the accuracy of your 
 creed, in the exuberant mercy of God, or what com- 
 mands soever you have kept — if the great command- 
 ment of love is neglected — none of these make you 
 an c Israelite indeed ;' no more than a veil makes a 
 saint, a cowl a monk, or a laboratory a chymist. 
 An infidel may do all these; but 'with the heart 
 man believeth unto righteousness,' 1 that is, unto jus- 
 tification before God. That you have not so be- 
 lieved, your acknowledged indifference shows. It 
 is called believing e with the heart,' because it takes 
 effect in the mind, only when the heart cordially 
 approves of the object; and it is only when we mis- 
 take and misconceive spiritual objects, that they are 
 1 Rom, x. 10, 
 
216 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 not lovely and engaging. Our hearts and minds are 
 not such separate things in the business of religion, 
 as our notions of their localities would indicate. 
 They are not such separate agents in the responsi- 
 bility of believing, as we sometimes take them to be. 
 That we do not feel suitably towards the objects of 
 faith, we venture, arises from our want of suitable 
 views of them. That wrong feelings, preoccupied 
 hearts, occasion this defect, may be, but the mind 
 has taken the lead in this derangement and assents 
 thereto. True faith, after all, seema little more, 
 nothing more that we can see, than a believing of 
 things rightly perceived. Pure hearts are apt to 
 believe very strongly, because to the pure the objects 
 of faith are pure. The heart — poor and empty — 
 we fear is charged wrongfully, when we call it that 
 dead thing which will not respond to our percep- 
 tions, blame it for all the ill we do, and let the mind 
 go clear. When we have seen the promptness with 
 which some men acknowledge the faults of their 
 hearts, taxing them often with unsparing severity 
 at the same time they resent the slightest reflection 
 upon their mind, the great seat of intentions and 
 executive of desires, we have been suspicious this 
 might be one of our nature's dangers, one of the 
 covert ways in which we seem to loose ourselves 
 from responsibility, ami are betrayed into a notion 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 217 
 
 that we are rather unfortunate than guilty in most 
 of the wrong we do. It is, certainly, well to have 
 it settled in the mind, that the heart follows the lead 
 of ourselves, and that all the blame we charge on it 
 is ours. If we will think much of our minds, it 
 should be, because they control the heart through the 
 ministry of right perceptions of those objects which 
 are adapted to move its affections along the course 
 of right reason and faith. 
 
 There is a peculiar evidence of divine truth which 
 you never see — see what else you will — if you 
 judge of it merely by the intellect, much less, if the 
 intellect be swayed by adverse affections. But 
 when the repugnance of the heart is overcome, we 
 have this evidence in the substance, the relish of the 
 truth; we then see a conspicuous excellency in it, 
 which approves it to the mind, and confirms it by 
 a happy experience of its power and sweetness. 
 There is nothing at all supernatural in this, nothing 
 contrary to the laws of general experience. We 
 may hear much of the excellent qualities of an indi- 
 vidual, but there is a certain evidence which they 
 seem not to have, though they be such qualities as- 
 we approve and fully believe to exist, till we have, 
 so to speak, some experience of them which moves 
 on our affections, They have a brightness, a loveli- 
 ness then, which engages all our confidence, and' 
 19 
 
218 POPULAR INFIDELITF. 
 
 makes us feel, whether the subject of them be pre- 
 sent or absent, that we know in whom we believed. 
 So then, there is as much true philosophy as 
 divinity in the words of our Saviour, when he said, 
 ' How can they believe who seek honour one from 
 another, and not that honour which cometh from 
 God? How hardly shall a rich man enter into the 
 kingdom of God.' They have their affections pre- 
 engaged; they do not ' seek first the kingdom of 
 God;' and all the glories of it compare not in their 
 estimation with the objects they have chosen. They 
 cannot therefore perceive aright the things to be 
 believed, nor can the heart be moved towards them, 
 till it breaks its present hold. This will give you 
 an insight into the condition of secular men gene- 
 rally. They may not be seeking honour or riches, 
 but seek what they may, and something they are all 
 seeking before the ' kingdom of God,' it will ex- 
 clude for the time the possibility of faith. The 
 Bible does not, reason does not, tolerate the prefer- 
 ence of any object to God. Take away this obsta- 
 cle, disengage the heart, and how hardly shall they 
 not believe, when they are thus left to see without 
 bias the excellency and obligation of spiritual things? 
 In proportion to the strength of men's worldly 
 attachments — their fondness and persistence in for- 
 bidden ways — is the difficulty they experience m 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 219 
 
 believing. No conviction of spiritual things can be 
 gained, which will make any due impression, whilst 
 the heart is held in a preference of other things. 
 Hence, if it be necessary we should undergo an entire 
 change, we see that the requirement of supreme love 
 to God, a love preferring him before all other things, 
 is founded in the necessities of our nature; it is in- 
 dispensable as a cause of the effect to be produced. 
 Without it, we cannot believe, cannot rate the value 
 of things as they are, and must consequently lose 
 that influence from them, which is essential to our 
 renovation, our realizing faith. 
 
 When our Saviour, discoursing on this subject, 1 
 said, ' How hard is it for them that trust in riches to 
 enter into the kingdom of God!' it was a natural and 
 reasonable inquiry of the disciples, as he strength- 
 ened the assertion — < Who then can be saved?' He 
 had used a comparison which made it appear quite 
 impossible that any should; but had they considered 
 what it is to * trust in riches,' that is, to prefer and 
 rest in any created good, they would have been con- 
 vinced that none so doing could believe, could be 
 saved. Few persons of this description have as much 
 consideration for religion, as he who ' came running,' 
 and saying, ( Good Master, what shall I do that I may 
 inherit eternal life?' He had done much in his own 
 ' Mirk x. 23—28. 
 
220 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 way; he had observed the commandments from his 
 youth; yet, when required to give up that on which 
 his heart relied most, he was net ready, ' and went 
 away grieved.' 
 
 When it is considered how many things we may 
 do, and what surrenders we may make for the favour 
 of God, and yet be unable to bear a touch in the 
 tenderest spot of interest, or to deny a favourite 
 indulgence, it is a comfortable and encouraging 
 doctrine, that which our Lord taught his disciples 
 in answer to their question— i With men it is im- 
 possible, but not with God: for with God all things 
 are possible.' They, who quarrel with this doctrine, 
 may be suspected of hoping more from themselves 
 than from the grace of God; but they are not the 
 readiest to abandon their reliances; to i forsake all, 
 and follow Christ.' And if you turn your thoughts 
 back to the deceptions which have been traced out, 
 to the false reliances, lurking places, and fair forms 
 of unbelief, and mark the deep aversion to spiritual 
 things which runs through them all, and then weigh 
 impartially what you have done and are ready to 
 do, and infer thence what you will be likely to do, 
 Ho inherit eternal life,' we submit, it will be diffi- 
 cult for you to grouna my confidence in yourself. 
 Still, we misjudge if there is not much practical 
 misconception and error on this point, among those 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 221 
 
 who profess to receive the truth, and to be fully per- 
 suaded of their dependence. Their faith, however 
 correct it may stand to the mind, does not bring 
 them in practice to despair of other relief, and to 
 surrender themselves into the hands of God. It 
 does not make them importunate at a throne of 
 grace, or distrustful and apprehensive of their 
 strength against sin. When they are induced to do 
 any thing for the soul, they generally proceed in a 
 way that seems not to recognise the doctrine of 
 their dependence. Instead of coming to Christ as 
 helpless, self-destroyed, hoping in mercy, and claim- 
 ing nothing, they are ready to do almost any thing 
 before this the one thing needful. 1 They check 
 themselves in sin, pray, read, and ' do many things,' 
 
 1 Whatever causes the undervaluation of Christ and his offices, is 
 of the essence of infidelity. We can no more do without him in 
 religion, than we can trade in the world without money or credit. 
 This point cannot be too much considered. It is our natural infi- 
 delity, so to call it, its easiest, earliest manifestation, that which we 
 style our proneness to overlook it in our religious thoughts and 
 hopes. " But if you think to overcome this death, this sense of sin, 
 by diversions, by worldly delights, by mirth, and music, and society ; 
 or by good works, with a confidence of merit in them ; or with a re- 
 lation to God himself, but not as God hath manifested himself to 
 you, not in Christ Jesus ; the stone" (your sin) " shall lie still upon 
 you till you putrefy into desperation. To be a good moral man, and 
 refer all to the law of nature in our hearts, is but diluculum, ' the 
 dawning of the day ;' to be a godly man, and refer to God, is but 
 crepusculum, ' a twilight ;' but the meridional brightness, the glo 
 rious noon and height, is to be a Christian ; to pretend to no spirit 
 19* 
 
222 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 with a view to prepare themselves for divine accept- 
 ance, (< and these ought they to have done, and not 
 to have left the other undone;') and it is a great 
 mercy if God leads them, through these winding and 
 perplexing ways of their choice, to find the truth at 
 last; to come empty-handed to Christ, willing to be 
 saved on his terms, and able to trust in his suffi- 
 ciency, who is All in all. 
 
 That they discredit the gospel, or misconceive its 
 plainest 5 import, is abundantly clear from their prone- 
 ness to rest in the merit of their own works; and 
 they hear so much of their ability, and are often so 
 stoutly and broadly assured of it, that it is perhaps 
 not all their fault that they forget its true conditions, 
 and set themselves to the work much as they would 
 if no redemption were provided for them. If they 
 would let their own consciousness, their active 
 nature, turn teacher on the question of their ability, 
 they would be more likely to practise the true phi- 
 losophy of religion. Men are seldom in despair 
 with regard to their religious prospects: it is not 
 the want of hope which makes them careless and 
 worldly, not a persuasion that religion itself is un- 
 important to them, but a faithless adventure on the 
 
 ual, no temporal blessings, but for, and by, and througb, and in our 
 only Lord and Saviour Christ Jesus; for he is the first resurrection ; 
 and 'blessed and holy is he that hath part in this first resurrection.' * 
 —Dr. Donne's Discourse on the First Resurrection. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 223 
 
 forbearance of God, and on their own capacity and 
 disposition to do their duty at a future time. We 
 pee not what need they have to know more of theii 
 ability, than is taught them by the praise or blame, 
 the right or wrong, which they naturally ascribe to 
 their own doings. They cannot divest themselves 
 of these prime ideas of truth: they are revelations 
 of God within us, and, though their ? counsel be 
 often darkened by words without knowledge,' they 
 will come out at last in vindication of the divine 
 requirements. It is singular men should perplex 
 and hamper themselves with a question which so 
 little concerns their practice, that they leave it with- 
 out conscience of it, whenever the thing to be done 
 appears both practicable and desirable. And if their 
 duty to God appear not both practicable and desirable, 
 it is a want of faith and complacency, not in their 
 ability, but in the testimony and nature of the thing 
 to be done, which prevents its appearing so. They 
 are not straitened in themselves, or in God, but in 
 their views of the outward thing which he requires. 
 Christianity is a warfare, and, considered as 
 a practice, is called in the Scriptures, 'fighting 
 the good fight of faith.' It enjoins on us duties 
 which are most difficult to nature; to think lowly 
 of ourselves, to seek not our own things, to wave 
 the regard and praise of men, to disclaim our 
 
224 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 own worth and desert, to bear wrongs and affronts, 
 without seeking or so much as wishing; any revenge, 
 and to meet all crosses and disasters without dis- 
 may or complaint, meekly, gladly giving ' patience 
 her perfect work, that we may be perfect and entire. ; 
 They have not the courage, the decision, to adven- 
 ture striving thus with themselves, with the ' lusts 
 which war against their souls.' They are irresolute 
 and pusillanimous; and to think of stooping so low, 
 of running such hazards, and enduring such hard- 
 ships; to think of curbing their appetites and pas- 
 sions, of waving their rights and interests, of cruci- 
 fying their own members, pulling out right eyes, 
 and cutting; off right hands — is a thins: that daunts 
 and puts them to a stand, and quashes all resolution 
 and inclination to close with the Christian command. 
 There is nothing unusual in the process; it is the same 
 difficulty as that which they feel, when any painful, 
 hnmblingjor unpromising service is proposed to them. 
 They decline it for the sole reason, that it is painful, 
 humbling, unpromising, or in any other sense dis- 
 agreeable; and it does not alter the case, or affect 
 their responsibility in it, that it is their love of ease, 
 their pride, their incredulity, or their distaste for 
 the service, which makes it appear so. The whole 
 trouble seems to be, that they ' resist the truth, 
 being men of corrupt minds, and reprobate concern- 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 225 
 
 ing the faith,' 1 } destitute of the truth.' 2 And, while 
 the matter stands thus, while they know they do 
 wrong continually, and do it voluntarily, against 
 their firmest resolves and their clearest convictions 
 of duty, what if they should begin to distrust them- 
 selves and to despair of amendment ? This is pre- 
 cisely the feeling they ought to have ; it is their 
 first approach to an understanding of the truth, and, 
 instead of making them more careless in impeni- 
 tence, it would drive them to seek relief from God, 
 to cast themselves upon his mercy — the only pro- 
 per direction and exercise of human ability. When 
 saints are told that ( His strength is made perfect in 
 their weakness,' and they find in their experience 
 that ' when they are weak, then are they strong,' 3 
 6 strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might,' 4 
 it is remarkable it should, sometimes, be deemed so 
 important to persuade sinners of their sufficiency for 
 every duty. Who knows not they would do more 
 if they did not believe they could do so much ? 
 They must come at last to despair of helping them- 
 selves. Very little good, that we can see, has come 
 of the lasting discussion of natural and moral 
 ability ; unless indeed it has sharpened minds for 
 more available inquiries. It has not altered men's 
 
 1 2 Tim. iife 8. 2 i Tim. vi. 5. 
 
 3 2 Cor. xii. 9, 10. < Eph. vi. 2 0. 
 
226 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 primary and practical convictions, or added a cubit 
 to their growth in holiness, a pulse to their con- 
 scious life in duty. Help them to see, adequately, 
 their guilt and danger, and the love and complete- 
 ness of a Saviour for them, and they will feel and 
 believe. This would be treating them as reasonable 
 creatures ; but lashing them on their ability, when 
 what they most need is a persuasion of their guilt, 
 their proper helplessness, their adequate relief, is, 
 to say no more of it, a questionable operation. 
 
 There is, in these days, so much said of what 
 saints and sinners can do, with so little recognition 
 of what they cannot do, that practical error, practi- 
 cal feeling, of the worst kind — a spirit of self-reli- 
 ance, a contempt for old opinions, a forsaking of 
 beaten ways, an impatience that will not let well 
 alone, but must deface and spoil it with dashes of 
 self-improvement — is in danger of coming in, yea, 
 has come in, and threatens to flood the land with 
 strife and irreverence — those strong spices, which 
 scent not of the grace and faith of ' olden time.' 
 Men need most to feel that they are self-destroyed 
 and that all their springs are in God. In all their 
 unaided efforts they are as < one that beateth the 
 air/ in regard to all spiritual execution. If they 
 saw themselves in danger, and felt they could do 
 nothing, they would be ready to cry for help, and 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 227 
 
 to accept of any aid that is offered to them. They 
 would not find it so difficult to trust in the provi- 
 sions and promises of a wise and gracious God — the 
 most complete and reasonable objects of human 
 trust in the universe. They would fly to him 
 (ability or no ability) as their refuge and defence. 
 This they always do, when felt necessity shuts them 
 up to it, and, we think, never otherwise. They 
 will try to help themselves without him, as long as 
 they believe they can. Their unbelief, their nature, 
 disposes them to self-dependence, and self-depend- 
 ence, again, to carelessness and inaction. In short, 
 their heedless, incurious, and unrelenting spirit is a 
 fruit of inferred strength, a growth of infidelity, 
 which indicates an oversight, or rather ill sight of 
 the great truths of the gospel. It evinces that no 
 true light has entered the heart; that the heart is 
 not seen as a land of darkness, swarming with lies 
 and vain imaginations, and lying under the shadow 
 of death. Their goodness is like the blossom and fra- 
 grancy of certain plants, the growth of a poisonous 
 root, and soon to fade, to exhale and pass away. They 
 see at most but a part of the evil that is in them, and 
 the other, and the worst part perhaps, passes with 
 them for virtue. And if you are of 'the careless 
 ones,' this is your case. Your thoughts of sin and 
 its punishment, your thoughts of heaven and its holi- 
 
228 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 ness, your thoughts of God, are not great enough to 
 start you. There is too much of your own stature 
 and likeness in them. You should value yourself 
 very little on any ability to help yourself, or any 
 disposition to do it, when the weightiest truths have 
 so long failed to control your choice. It is not so 
 important for you to feel, that you can do better 
 than you have done, as that you must perish with- 
 out help from God. All your other confidences 
 have been insufficient, and will desert you at last : 
 they spring from, and rest in misconceptions of 
 essential truth. When, in the promises and threat- 
 enings of the gospel, you hear the voice of your 
 Redeemer and Judge, and the silken cords of love 
 do not draw you, nor the iron chains of terror move 
 you, yield at least to the conviction, that if you are 
 left of God with a heart so hardened, and left you 
 may be, leaving him, your perdition is as certain as 
 if it had already begun ; and so yielding, feel your 
 dependence, and accept the proffered deliverance, 
 acceptable then, and only accepted by humble and 
 contrite hearts. 
 
 If your feelings will give you leave, you will find 
 nothing to hinder your calling on God in the spirit 
 of fervent, effectual prayer ; and if they give you 
 no leave, no insight, no liberty, it is because you see 
 not yottr necessities. Your hinderances may be re- 
 
rOPULAR INFIDELITY. 229 
 
 solved again into infidelity, not a doubting perhaps 
 that religion is important, but a doubting of things 
 which might make you feel it to be so. It is a 
 doubting of the grounds of your danger, which 
 extends to and breaks the power of all other truth. 
 What strange ingredients enter into this ' spirit of 
 slumber' that has fallen upon you! You are fortified 
 by a charm that ' leads to bewilder and dazzles to 
 blind' you in the moment of ruin; the charm of the 
 same serpent who tried his power on our nature in 
 Eden, and who would lure you to believe you are 
 like God, by blinding you to what he is. On any 
 other supposition, your insensibility is unaccountable. 
 No one that is a slave of sin, can remain eas}^ in the 
 belief that God justly regards him as he professes 
 to regard the sinner. He must accommodate his 
 notions of God to his own standard of excellence; 
 he must bring him down, or ascend to him by some 
 process; he must conceal away his guilt in God, or 
 he must live in perpetual fear and dissatisfaction. 
 Now, it cannot be doubted which of these alterna- 
 tives you have chosen, if you are not concerned for 
 your acceptance in his sight. Besides the fear and 
 remorse which may lead you to seek such relief, 
 your prospect is gilded and filled with objects, 
 adapted to distract your vision and induce you to 
 20 
 
230 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 level down his perfections to your own likeness. 
 There you see the kingdoms of this world in all 
 their deceitful glory and fascination, offered for your 
 service, and waiting for your acceptance. Here is a 
 company of darling lusts, passions, and expectations, 
 which you are commanded to slay, and spare not; 
 but they, clinging to your recollections of enjoyment, 
 plead and claim to be retained in your service by all 
 you remember and can anticipate of such enjoyment 
 as they afforded, and this, too, at the very moment, 
 when they crave new indulgence, which is always 
 the moment, when the miseries they may hereafter 
 bring upon you, are least likely to be feared, because 
 those they have previously caused, are then most 
 likely to be out of mind — the moment, when the 
 pleasures and interests they can promote, are sure 
 to be greatly overrated, because you are reluctantly 
 contemplating their entire renunciation. Will you 
 venture on, and presume that you are equal to this 
 trial? 1 Can you trust yourself to make against such 
 odds, and to come to a safe and impartial decision? 
 Can you cope with passions, which long indulgence 
 or the desire of new indulgence may change as into 
 
 1 "0, sir, to wilful men, 
 
 The injuries, that they themselvcfs procure, 
 Must be their schoolmasters." 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 231 
 
 angels of light, 1 always ready to give an excuse for 
 what they have done, and a reason, and to sense a 
 good reason, for what they propose doing; never 
 baffled, when denied, and never convinced and 
 abashed, when found guilty, but, as cunning sophists, 
 (outwitting whom they master, and mastering all 
 who trust them,) contriving new artifices for their 
 own vindication, and devising new plans for the 
 compassing of their own ends? 
 
 Consider, then, how strongly you are tempted so 
 to modify your notions of God, as to make him permit 
 the indulgence of your evil passions, and the reten- 
 tion of your idols, especially when you are called to 
 exchange them for objects that have no power to 
 charm, and for services you do not relish? Yea, is 
 not your repose in impenitence, evidence that your 
 conceptions of him are already so modified as to 
 quiet your fears and favour your passions? Here is 
 the law which is a transcript of his character. It 
 demands that you ' love not the world nor the things 
 of the world,' and that you < cleanse yourself from 
 all filthiness of the flesh and spirit, and perfect holi- 
 ness in the fear of God.' Do you see its beauty as 
 
 1 " When we in our viciousness grow hard, 
 (0 misery on't) the wise gods seel our eyes ; 
 In our own filth drop our clear judgments ; make us 
 Adore our errors ; laugh at us, while we strut 
 To our confusion." ' 
 
232 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 holy, just, and good ? Do you see in what sense 
 your happiness here and hereafter, is connected with 
 obedience to it? To say you do not, is to say that 
 you see not the word of God to be true; that you 
 see no filthiness in the indulgence it proscribes — no 
 beauty in the holiness it enjoins. But if you see its 
 excellence, and your interest in obeying it, it is im- 
 possible for you to repose, while you refuse to com- 
 ply with its requisitions. You might as well expect 
 a ' proud Athos' to obey your mandate, and part with 
 its elevation, as expect reason to permit you to slum- 
 ber, while it has such a vision of your peril, and of 
 the worth of the law it honours. It sees a law to 
 which it is bound by ties which nothing can dissolve. 
 It responds to its command, and is awe-struck with 
 the splendour and strength of its chains. It looks 
 at the earth beneath, and the heavens above you, and 
 sees everywhere the features of a religion that will 
 be approved, and cannot be bribed to allow one sin- 
 ful indulgence. Your offences, in vastness and deso- 
 lation, like mountains that intercept your vision of 
 the morning sun, rise to its view. It turns with 
 aversion and horror from the prospect, as the eagle, 
 in its ascension to the skies, is frighted and driven 
 back by the lightning and the tempest. It looks out 
 again upon the immensity that is above and around 
 you, and sees it all as the stern expression of an 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 23$ 
 
 enemy's countenance, whose eyes are in every place, 
 and on whose power all things depend. Can you 
 repose while reason has such visions, alarms, and 
 convulsions, by which it performs upon you a work 
 like that of the fabled vulture upon the unwasting 
 vitals of its victim? Did you perceive the extent of 
 your peril, the reasonableness and perfection of the 
 law by which you are condemned, you could not rest 
 a moment in your sins — you would fly from them, 
 as from the quenchless flame in your dwelling — you 
 would 'lay aside these weights,' as the swimmer 
 would drop bars of gold, when he found they were 
 sinking him to the bottom of the deep. 
 
 It is too evident to need farther illustration, that 
 the species of infidelity, which we have aimed to 
 expose, is very common — that the repose of impeni- 
 tent men is inconsistent with just apprehensions of 
 the moral attributes of God, and is therefore proof 
 they have either concluded in their hearts with the 
 fool, that 'there is no God,' or have changed his truth 
 into a lie, by imagining him to be ' altogether such a 
 one as themselves.' They may not be conscious of 
 the process by which they have come to this conclu- 
 sion. But if they could remember what has so often 
 quieted their alarms and allayed their convictions, 
 they might discover it was a secret peradventure 
 that God will not bring < every work into judgment, 
 20* 
 
234 POPULAR INFIDELIW. 
 
 with every secret thing, whether it be good or 
 evil' — that he is not < of purer eyes than to behold 
 iniquity/ or that he will at least, when he beholds 
 the greatness of their number, think it a pity to de- 
 stroy so many, Let them watch the operations of 
 their minds, and see how often thoughts of this cha- 
 racter minister to their repose; how much the num- 
 ber with whom they are connected, reconciles them 
 to their condition; how often their fears are quelled 
 by the hilarity and boldness of those who have 
 equal or more reason to tremble than themselves; 
 how much easier they have always found it to 
 believe what they desired, than what they feared 
 might be true; and then, let them determine if these 
 are not the unresisted goings-on of unbelief in their 
 minds, by which they seem likened to God, as the 
 apparent distance between one object and another, is 
 shortened by the nature of the instrument through 
 which it is viewed. 
 
 We have dwelt long on this subject, because we 
 esteem it to be of great practical importance. We 
 believe the carelessness and hardness of secular men 
 to be owing, chiefly, to this species of infidelity. 
 There has, too, been no lack of industry in fortify- 
 ing the external defences of the Christian doctrine. 
 Could any brightness of outward evidence, any 
 depth of research, any cogency of argument, £on- 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 235 
 
 vince them, infidelity, with whatever shape of irre- 
 ligion it assumes, had long since disappeared. Still, 
 they are not convinced; and it has seemed that they 
 have need to turn their thoughts in upon themselves, 
 to analyze their indifference, or at least to have some 
 opinion of it, and to give it a proper name. This we 
 have attempted to do, we wish we could say with as 
 much success in convincing the reader as desire of 
 doing so. 
 
236 POPULAR INFIDELITY* 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Man treated as a rational being in all the divine dispensations— No 
 mysteries of feeling in regard to the doctrines of grace — Reason a 
 competent judge of things necessary to salvation — Hinderances to 
 its right exercise — Our difficulty with religion our fault — Contra- 
 riety of the sentiments and practice of Christ to human nature a 
 ground of unbelief— Our incapacity to comprehend and believe 
 the gospel — How acquired — How to be removed— Divine grace 
 attainable when truly desired — Acts of holy obedience free and 
 rational — Dispensations of grace encouraging in every scriptural 
 view of them — Power of truth — Misconceptions of it the same 
 thing as infidelity — Testimony of the Scriptures— Striking guilt 
 of sinners in likening God to themselves. 
 
 If God does not presume we will act, he certainly 
 intends we shall answer to him, as rational creatures; 
 for he ever treats with us on this high ground, and 
 never moves us, except so that we seem to move 
 ourselves. He has given no attestation of his will 
 or of our duty, makes no promises and exerts no 
 agency on us, except such as both accord with and 
 infer our reason. He could do his will in us, or 
 make us do it, without this condescension to our 
 nature; but he designs not to force or subdue our 
 reason to the belief of the gospel. Had this been 
 his method, he would not have said, ' Come, let us 
 reason together;' he would not have set us an exam- 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 237 
 
 pie of obedience, and attempered his addresses to the 
 various sensibilities of our frame ; he would have 
 spared himself the trouble of working signs, and 
 wonders, and miracles, and have waived all other 
 arguments, which are only appeals to reason. We 
 are indeed encouraged to pray God 'to enlighten our 
 minds and understandings,' to give us 'an increase of 
 knowledge and a right judgment in all things;' but 
 in this his spiritual operation he guards our reason; 
 he only clears away the darkness about it, brightens 
 the evidence of things, that we may more clearly 
 distinguish truth from error, and better judge of his 
 requirements as rational beings. 
 
 But we need not wind our way, cautiously, over 
 this subject. There are mysteries in regard to our 
 moral agency, but, happily, they are not mysteries 
 of feeling. As Adam was 'put into the garden to 
 keep and to dress it,' 1 so God has intrusted us with 
 u stewardship, with the custody and culture of our 
 hearts; and the doctrine is, ' w r ork out your own sal- 
 vation with fear and trembling, for it is God which 
 worketh in you both to will and to do of his good 
 pleasure.' 2 The direction and the reason upon which 
 it is based, accord, perfectly, with our experience, 
 and with all his methods of treating with us and 
 acting on us. We may find difficulties in religion, 
 1 Gen. ii. 15. a Yhi[. ii. 12, 13. 
 
238 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 and hinderances to our faith, but our reason is, and is 
 accounted to be, a competent judge of things neces- 
 sary to be believed and understood for our salvation. 
 If we perplex and embarrass our minds with things 
 not necessary, not knowable by us, not revealed, or 
 revealed only for the trial of our faith, and the in- 
 citement of our humility and admiration, we do so 
 to our cost and peril. We assume the responsibility, 
 we venture out of our sphere, and, if we become 
 suspicious and disloyal subjects, we must thank our 
 daring for it Whatever it be which disaffects us 
 with the truth necessary to be known and know- 
 able by us, it is our fault. The exercise indeed of 
 our reason in regard to things revealed and essen- 
 tial to salvation, depends upon our will and inclina- 
 tion, which, besides that they are not naturally 
 given to dwell on these things, are apt to be en- 
 gaged and taken up with pursuits and enjoyments, 
 not only foreign, but adverse to them. Thus, at the 
 first appearance of ous Saviour, many were his ene- 
 mies; his new doctrine was 'foolishness' to some, 
 and a i stumbling-block' to others; not that they took 
 time to examine it, not that it wanted any proper 
 evidence, but because his doctrine did not fall in 
 with their prejudices and interests, nor his preten- 
 sions suit their ambitious aspirings; in which they 
 were clearly guided, rot by their reason, or the 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 239 
 
 evidence of the case, but by a perverse will and the 
 evil possessions of their heart. 
 
 But since, — from our natural notions of right and 
 wrong, we cannot but know, if know we will, that a 
 revelation, coming from a holy God to unholy crea- 
 tures and proposing their renovation, must cross 
 their evil designs and affections, — any difficulty we 
 may have or make with the truths of religion on this 
 score, instead of diminishing their evidence to our 
 reason, does greatly increase it. Such difficulty, 
 however, shows that, in order to enable us fairly to 
 examine these truths, and to believe them on appro- 
 priate and sufficient evidence, the opposition of our 
 hearts to them must be overcome. This too seems to 
 be taught when our Lord said, ' If any man will do 
 God's will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it 
 be of God, or whether I speak of myself ; n that is, if 
 a man has not a disposition to obey the truth, he is not 
 in a condition to have a correct understanding of it; 
 he is not prepared to receive the doctrine of Christ, 
 and to believe him to be ' a teacher come from God.' 
 
 Now this disposition is far from being natural 
 to men. When we contrast their sentiments and 
 practice with the sentiments and practice of Christ, 
 we see the greatest disagreement. We naturally 
 estimate nothing as he did, and it is therefore 
 'John vii. 16, 17. 
 
240 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 no wonder that we are ( offended in him.' He 
 wanted worldly greatness, and though his want- 
 ing it did not make him less honourable, but ren- 
 dered that so, which he did not choose to take on 
 him, still we can hardly bear to serve him in that 
 station in which he so meekly and greatly served 
 us. He magnified and seemed to court the most 
 difficult duties; but we start at difficulty, and turn 
 back when our way is in the wilderness. The 
 duties which cross and disaffect us, were all easy 
 and natural to him, because his whole humour was 
 in accordance with them. Therefore he could con- 
 sent to be poor and unhonoured — a dependant upon 
 the charity of others — but to be poor, to beg, we 
 are ashamed. We can give bountifully perhaps to 
 others; but sweetly to receive their charities and 
 depend on them, that is a dignity which we can as 
 little see to be so, as desire to attain. Indeed, there 
 are stout pretenders to virtue, who would think it 
 more honourable to obtain, by indirect and covert 
 means, yea, by evident injustice and fraud, the ne- 
 cessaries of life, than to receive them at the hands 
 of a willing charity. In order for them to ' know 
 of the doctrine of Christ, whether it be of God,' it 
 is evident that they must have a temper more in 
 harmony with his teaching and example; they must 
 ' know how to abound, to suffer want,' and to do all 
 
TOrULAR INFIDELITY. 241 
 
 other duties which cross our evil nature. 1 If men's 
 opinions and practices can so prevail with us, as to 
 be permitted to give the stamp of littleness or great- 
 
 1 It sounds strange perhaps to speak of poverty as a duty, espe- 
 cially when so many are made poor by their vices, and when a 
 volume has so recently been written, designed to prove, from the 
 Bible, " that it is the duty of every man to become rich." This is 
 baiting the hungry with what they like at least. But we must yet 
 think that poverty is a duty, a great and comprehensive duty. This 
 may appear to be a presuming and forward opinion ; — 
 "For, in the fatness of these pursy times, 
 Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg ; 
 Yea, curb and woo, for leave to do him good." 
 
 The contrariety of the spirit and practice of Christ to our natural 
 feelings and conceptions is so great, and so evidently the ground of 
 our misconceiving, and, therefore, in effect, discrediting his true cha- 
 racter, that we shall take the liberty here to go out of our way a 
 little to illustrate it. 
 
 It may perhaps be our duty to be poor, certainly it may be, if it is 
 not the will of God that all should be rich. All our abuses, both of 
 poverty and riches, are breaches of tins duty. Our Saviour also 
 gave it the place of honour in his life and instructions. And if we 
 consider what seems to ruin so many souls, and to cause crimes to 
 abound, we shall not wonder at it. One of the chief temptations to 
 all the wickedness in the world is the terror of poverty. It is a great 
 and powerful mover of unrighteousness, covetousness, extortion, and 
 cheating. In short, what evil have men not done, through fear of 
 being reduced to live in a low condition, or an immoderate desire of 
 riches. If all had a right esteem of poverty, evidently we should 
 feel much safer on every side ; we should not need so many laws 
 and prisons for the protection of rights. And what can more clearly 
 show our want of faith in Christ, our want of a due impression of 
 his honour and glory, than' our fear and shame of that rank in the 
 world which he chose for himself. It is proof enough how little we 
 have of the temper of Christ, that we have so little patience with his 
 station in the world. We seem not to know how to be honoured, 
 2\ 
 
242 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 ness to all the designs and pursuits of life, we shall 
 
 make ill work of estimating the doctrine and exam- 
 
 but to seek honour from that which could confer no honour on him. 
 The character of a poor godly man we can ill bear ; it is not envied, 
 not perhaps admired by us, though it was the character of the Cre- 
 ator of the world when he ' dwelt among us.' Thus his doctrine 
 must be an offence to us. Our character makes it so. 
 
 We also seem to value wise heads more than good hearts, but he 
 sought no such distinction. He had all wisdom and learning at his 
 command, and understood all mysteries, yet he made no display of 
 knowledge, and was satisfied to confine himself to magnify and 
 obey the holy law of God ; he said and did nothing but what was 
 useful to encourage humility, and holiness, and patient well-doing. 
 Should we do so, or should we be as careful and expend as much to 
 improve our hearts, as heads, we might become surprising proficients 
 in holiness. And when we are good enough, if we hare not sense 
 enough, we shall be satisfied with what we have. But we clearly 
 do not see this subject as he saw it. We have one rule of estima- 
 tion ; he had another and very different one. We must be in the 
 wrong — we have lost the secret of true greatness, — rather we never 
 had it. 
 
 We are also prone to admire and imitate the actions of great 
 men. We reward good, and punish evil deeds, to encourage the 
 imitation of the one, and prevent the repetition of the other. We 
 expect to aid the cause of virtue in this way. Christ pursued the 
 same plan, left us a life of great and worthy actions, yea, of those 
 very actions which he requires of us ; and though we are so good at 
 imitation in other respects, yet what wretched learners and imitators 
 in this ! That we do refuse to follow so great an example, when 
 the acts of our solicited imitation, are the acts which he will reward 
 with eternal life, and the acts too, to which our duty draws us, is a 
 strange perverseness, and shows that we lie under an indisposition 
 to do what our reason approves. 
 
 " Sure He that made us with such large discourse, 
 Looking before and after, gave us not 
 That capability and godlike reason 
 To fust in us unused." 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 243 
 
 pie of Christ, to which both they and our hearts are 
 opposed. If the example of the Creator cannot 
 weigh with us as much as that of creatures, in fixing 
 the standard of greatness, and the rule of valuing 
 temporal things, we shall continue to hear and not 
 understand, when the question of our duty is pro- 
 posed. We are under an incapacity to comprehend 
 and believe, which reason and conscience both con- 
 demn as our fault. 
 
 So long as lust, pride, any evil temper, or the 
 love of the world has dominion over us, we must 
 not only have a great indisposition to inquire after 
 divine truths, but a great blindness to the brightness 
 and excellency of them. We never see the full 
 beauty, the proper evidence of any good quality, if 
 we deem it undesirable, much less if it be adverse 
 to our desires. Hence only ( he that is of God hear- 
 eth God's word;' 1 that is, only he, that is disposed 
 by the grace of God, obeys him. 'No one can come 
 unto me,' says our Lord, ' except the Father, which 
 hath sent me, draw him. No man can come unto 
 me, except it were given unto him of my Father.' 
 Why? Because < ye will not come to me that ye 
 might have life.' 2 ' Light has come into the world,' 
 and why do not men receive it ? Only * because 
 their deeds are evil.' Why do ' they hate the 
 « John viii. 47. 2 lb. v. 40. 
 
244 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 light,' and turn their eyes from it? Only ' lest their 
 deeds should be reproved.' Their indisposition to 
 see and understand the truth, is ' the very head and 
 front of their offending;' it is no palliation of their 
 guilt, but the life, the growth of it, and it must be 
 taken away before they can believe. This is the 
 whole matter. Accordingly, ' If any man will 
 come unto me,' says our Lord again, < let him deny 
 himself, and take up his cross, and follow me;' 1 that 
 is, if any man wishes to become his disciple, he 
 must first be willing to deny himself the gains and 
 pleasures which are most pleasing to nature ; he 
 must lay aside his weights, disengage his affections, 
 and so he may < take up his cross,' (a cross still, and 
 his cross, too,) and ' follow on to know the Lord,' 2 
 yet ' not as though he had already attained, either 
 were already perfect; but following after, if that he 
 may apprehend that for which also he is appre- 
 hended of Christ Jesus.' 3 
 
 We must now be able to see what hinders our be- 
 lieving; and if we have not found it easier to lay our 
 passions and master our inclinations in deference to 
 the claims of religion than it falls to our experience 
 in other cases, we shall be prepared to welcome the 
 doctrine of divine grace, as one suited to the neces- 
 sity, if not to the good pleasure, of our nature. All 
 » Matt. xvi. 24. 2 Hos. vi. 3. 3 Phil. iii. 12. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITr, 245 
 
 who are disposed to receive the faith of Christ, are 
 drawn to it by the Spirit of God. He opens their 
 hearts, as he did Lydia's, 'to attend unto the things 
 which were spoken of Paul/ 1 There is no possible 
 discouragement in this doctrine; for, by what rule 
 and in what measure soever it be given, we are sure 
 that none can ever want the grace of God, who are 
 willing to have it. It is easy for men to say they 
 desire grace, and perhaps to persuade themselves 
 that they desire it, but it is all a deception, if they 
 are averse to the virtues and tempers which God re- 
 quires, because this is the same thing as being averse 
 to that operation of his Spirit which produces them. 
 They choose to be without his grace, unless they 
 seek it in his appointed ways, with the same earnest- 
 ness as they seek other things which they want and 
 must have. If they desire the grace of God, they 
 will at least avoid all hinderances to it, and cease to do 
 things contrary to it. What they want and seek on 
 other conditions, is not what he proposes as grace. 
 He does not give men grace, or make them holy, 
 against their will. He indeed makes them willing, 
 yet not as by force, but something as the sun's heat 
 wills them to the cooling shade, or as its sweetness 
 wills them to taste of offered fruit. As he makes us 
 see and walk by giving us natural light and strength, 
 
 1 Acts xvi. 11. 
 21* 
 
246 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 so he gives us spiritual light and strength, that we 
 may do him the reasonable service he requires. He 
 never deals with us more strictly as rational creatures, 
 than he does in giving us the assistance of his Spirit, 
 and we are never so rational in our exercises, as when 
 we believe his truth, and love and adore his perfec- 
 tions, — they being so worthy of this obedience, and 
 our rendering it an act so rational, that it makes us 
 at once both happy and deserving to be so. Thus, 
 while we are always failing of our duty, and have 
 every reason, deducible from our nature and doings, 
 to know that we shall continue to fail of it on any 
 other plan than that which is laid in the gospel, we 
 see that this proceeds not less upon a knowledge of 
 our spiritual necessities, our weakness and corrup- 
 tion, than upon the supposition that we will do 
 nothing, till he opens the eyes of our understand- 
 ing, inclines our will to that whereto it does not 
 naturally incline, and so ' fulfils in us all the good 
 pleasure of his goodness, and the work of faith.' 1 
 Our endeavours and our prayers are indeed neces- 
 sary; for God, who does our work for us, will never 
 do it without us. We must have the assistance of 
 his Spirit; but we have no ground to expect it, if 
 we will not seek it. He must work in us his own 
 'fruits;' but we have no ground to expect it, unless 
 '2Thess.i. 11. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 247 
 
 we do things meet to them, yea, unless c we also 
 labour thereto, striving according to his working.' 1 
 But we must ' not be high-minded,' or suppose that 
 we can do any thing as of ourselves; for ' it is God 
 that worketh in us to will and to do,' and all the 
 fruit we bear, is the fruit of his Spirit, not the fruit 
 of our prayers and doings as ours; we bear fruit 
 indeed, but it is as branches, we owe it all to 6 the 
 fatness of the olive-tree,' not to ourselves — we 'bear 
 not the root, but the root beareth us.' 3 How suit- 
 able then, how animating to us, is the doctrine, that 
 we have an Intercessor on high, who has offered 
 himself once for all unto God, and through whom, 
 not only the good things of this life, made holy and 
 salutary, are granted to us anew as pledges of a 
 Father's care, but also the gift, the great, the un- 
 speakable gift of a divine Comforter, one with the 
 Father and the Son, to be to those who are ignorant 
 the Spirit of knowledge, to those who are perplexed 
 with doubts and errors the Spirit of truth, and to 
 those who are polluted with sin, and they are all, 
 the Spirit of holiness! 
 
 We may also see that all the hinderances to our 
 faith are in ourselves. They are our evil desires 
 and passions, our love of the world, ' and what- 
 ever worketh abomination or maketh a lie;' and 
 ' Col. i. 29. 2 R om . x j. i 7j is. 
 
248 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 contemplating their operation simply, we may re- 
 solve them all into an indisposition to attend to divine 
 things. Now this indisposition, this drifting of the 
 mind and the affections to sensible objects, nothing 
 can break but the power of truth. Indeed, it has its 
 seat in misconceptions of the truth, both as it relates 
 to the nature of sin and to the character of God. 
 Men who are in this condition, are not without opi- 
 nions on these subjects. Their opinions may not be 
 rational; they may be as inconsiderate as any other 
 part of their conduct; they may not themselves be 
 sensible of the degree of their influence, or of the 
 mode of their operation; but they are no feeble and 
 sickly agents; they are, and can be shown to be, 
 strong enough to withstand the force of truth, which 
 is always sufficient to carry right minds, and which, 
 rightly understood, is never inconsiderable with the 
 worst hearts. They have become so familiar with 
 their crimes and follies by custom, that they scarcely 
 see any demerit in them, and, of course, they do not 
 see the truth that might present them in a true 
 character. Their worldliness is an indefinable some- 
 thing, upon which the conscience never fixes any 
 guilt, and, of course, they do not see the guiltiness 
 of not loving God, nor that his loveliness which, if 
 truly seen, appears so great, that we must needs love 
 him and thirst after him, as that which exceeds all 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 249 
 
 other delights. Their sinfulness — considered as se- 
 parate from acts, as a thing attached to their nature, 
 and running through their spiritual exercises and 
 affections, and there when not running, like distem- 
 pered blood that runs or lodges in the heart and 
 veins of the fleshly system, corrupting and bringing 
 to decay the outward man — is of very small ac- 
 count with them, and, of course, they do not see it 
 as defiling, yea, as death's corruption. In order to 
 have a perfectly just and lively sense of the evil of 
 sin, we must be entirely free, not only from the 
 dominion, but from any measure of the love and 
 practice of it; but they are confessedly under its do- 
 minion and in passion with its service. We might 
 still proceed with proofs of their misconceptions of 
 the truth as affecting themselves. They do not pro- 
 fess to disbelieve these or any similar truths, and it 
 follows, therefore, that they must have erroneous con- 
 ceptions of them; and, if we sound the matter to the 
 bottom, we shall find that this is a chief cause of their 
 inattention to religion; that they have, through the 
 cleceivableness of the heart, imposed upon themselves 
 such views of their own character, as leave them little 
 to choose between it and the holiness which is requir- 
 ed of them, and as little to fear from the divine dis- 
 pleasure. In other words, they have come to imagine 
 that God is ' altogether such a one as themselves.' 
 
250 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 The root of the difficulty is, they want a knowledge, 
 an understanding of the truth; they are alienated 
 from the life of God 6 through the ignorance that is 
 in them.' 
 
 And this view of the subject, which has hereto- 
 fore occupied so considerable a portion of our atten- 
 tion, we think accords with the Scriptures. We may 
 justly appeal to them for testimony in reasoning with 
 those who profess to receive them as the word of God, 
 though we do not profess to credit their faith in 
 them; and when they are found to foretell the difficul- 
 ties men experience in believing, and their evasions 
 and misconceptions of the truth with the causes 
 thereof, and the prediction or resolution of the matter 
 agrees with their own consciousness and the general 
 analogies of human conduct, it should be a very con- 
 vincing, as it is a very intelligible, proof that the 
 Scriptures came from him who ' knew what is in 
 man.' In confirmation of the position under review, 
 we have already quoted some scriptural proofs, and 
 shall now add a few more. When addressing his 
 Christian brethren, St. Paul says, 'Now we have re- 
 ceived, not the Spirit of the world, but the Spirit 
 which is of God; that we might know the things that 
 are freely given us of God. But the natural man re- 
 cciveth not the things of the Spirit of God; for they 
 are foolishness unto him; neither can he know them, 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 251 
 
 because they are spiritually discerned.' 1 The import 
 of this passage evidently is, that ' the things of God/ 
 the doctrines of the gospel, both as they relate to his 
 moral perfections, and to man's corruption and guilt, 
 cannot be rightly apprehended without concordant 
 feelings on his part, without those veritable and pure 
 views and affections which are imparted through 
 the influence of the Holy Spirit. The influence of 
 moral character on the perceptions of the mind, and 
 thereby presenting to us objects in our own like- 
 ness, and producing a dangerous faith, is here clearly 
 recognised by the apostle, and this is the principle 
 which has pervaded all our remarks upon the sub- 
 ject. The same truth is also taught in all that clas3 
 of texts which connect our true knowledge of God, 
 that is, our perceiving his moral perfections aright, 
 with our love of him, or our obedience to his com- 
 mands. ' He that loveth not knoweth not God; for 
 God is love. He that loveth is born of God, and 
 knoweth God. We are of God; he that knoweth 
 God heareth us ; he that knoweth not God heareth 
 not us, — thereby know we the spirit of truth and 
 the spirit of error.' 2 And again, says the psalmist, 
 c A good understanding have all they that keep thy 
 commandments. I have more understanding than 
 all my teachers; for thy testimonies are my medi- 
 ■ 1 Cor. ii. 12—14. 2 ] j h n ft. G— 3. 
 
252 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 tation. Through thy precepts I get understand- 
 ing: therefore I hate every false way. 71 Again, 
 there is a remarkable passage which applies ex- 
 pressly to our purpose, that where God is repre- 
 sented as directly addressing sinners who hate 
 instruction and commit abominable iniquity, and 
 saying, < These things hast thou done, and I kept 
 silence; thou thoughtest that I was altogether such a 
 one as thyself.' 2 We may, therefore, conclude that 
 < He who saith, I know God, and keepeth not his 
 commandments, is a liar, and the truth is not in 
 him.' 3 He sees nothing as it is; every object bears 
 more or less the stamp of his own character. If he 
 saw the whole truth, the effulgence would be insuf- 
 ferable; if he saw it very imperfectly, yet loving 
 what he saw, and desiring to see more, his doubts 
 and difficulties would vanish before it, and the truth 
 would make him < free indeed.' Therefore, < let us 
 not love in word, neither in tongue, but in deed 
 and in truth ; and hereby shall ye know that we 
 are of the truth, and shall assure our hearts before 
 God.' 4 
 
 ' Ps. cxix. 99. 104. 2 Ps. 1. 21. 3 1 John ii. 4. 
 
 i 'Because sentence against an evil work is not speedily executed, 
 the hearts of men are fully set in them to do evil.' If they saw the 
 full nature and demerit of ' an evil work,' the desire of doing it would 
 be slain, and they would die to sin. In both cases, all they want is 
 the persuasion which a belief of the truth, the whole truth, would fur- 
 nish. How important, then, is it to have correct perceptions of the 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 253 
 
 It should be distinctly noted, in connexion with 
 this subject, that our erroneous conceptions of the 
 truth, especially if they be allowances in our own 
 behalf, will not only prevent our moral improve- 
 ment, but sink us greatly below our present standard; 
 for the lower our views of duty and excellence now 
 are, the lower will be the standard which we shall 
 be apt to fix for ourselves to attain to, in future. 
 Our evil passions, soiled affections, and clouded 
 minds, ever powerful for mischief, and impotent of 
 good, if they, though constantly degenerating, are 
 yet constantly presenting God to us in our own like- 
 ness, we shall surely have a deity at last that swiftly 
 6 dwarfs and withers its worshippers' — 
 
 4 The proper act and figure of our heart.' 
 
 The peculiar guilt of this species of infidelity is 
 as worthy to be considered as it is unlikely to be 
 felt. There is always a strong tincture of self-ap- 
 probation in it, and if we do not give it the name of 
 
 truth ; to take up with no base mixtures of it, no fanciful substitu- 
 tions in its place. 
 
 If knowing God, we will love him, and if our keeping his com- 
 mandments be the evidence of our knowing him, as the Scriptures 
 teach, then, certainly, if we pretend to know him on any other 
 ground, ' we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.' The 
 knowledge we have is not true knowledge, — that is, does not repre- 
 sent God and his truth as they are, but probably more, if not such, 
 as we would have them. 
 
 22 
 
254 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 faith we think it a near relation of that worthy grace. s 
 And this, according to our showing, is as apt to be 
 the case, when our iniquities are great and daring, 
 yea, we may say more apt to be so then, because we 
 are more blind to the nature of sin and to the beauties 
 of holiness, than at other times. That we should be 
 so incautious as to let our depravity run whither- 
 soever it will, and that sin should be of such a 
 nature as to lead us to impute the qualities which 
 it breeds in us, to God who has none and can have 
 none of them, shows both our great sinfulness and 
 the great evil of sin. The guilt which we thus 
 incur, when contrasted with what God has done 
 for us and condescends to teach and promise on con- 
 dition of our faith, spreads to an immensity which, if 
 it be not infinite, would have been, if we could have 
 made it so. It is the guilt not merely of using the 
 gifts and mercies of God without thankfulness, but of 
 so abusing and corrupting them in our hands, that it 
 seems to impeach his wisdom that they were ever 
 there at all — the guilt not merely of withholding the 
 faculties he has given us from his service, but of 
 marring their edge and fitness for it, and employing 
 them to sully his perfections and fashion him to our- 
 
 1 Such a faith may prevent our feeling the guilt of infidelity, but 
 it exposes us to all its perils, affording us no blessedness here, and 
 no assurance of any to come, yet keeping us in 
 
 " But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep, 
 Dreaming on both." 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 255 
 
 selves — the guilt not merely of failing to see him in 
 the light of his creatures, but of so loving darkness 
 as not to heed the day-dawn, the sun in whose beams 
 they shine as the memorials and pledges of a bright- 
 ness all brightness excelling. Yes, this is our guilt, 
 the guilt of stamping our likeness on every good 
 being, of staining with our colours the beauties we 
 should make our own, and being so deluded with 
 our shadows, by which the glory of every thing else 
 is obscured, as to lose sight of the excellency of 
 which we are — not a shadow — and that is a resem- 
 blance which it seems we strive not to attain, though 
 it were to us a pledge of things which 
 
 " To lose or give away, were such perdition, 
 As nothing else could match." 
 
 Will you, reader, meditate on the picture? Will 
 you think of the surprise and disappointment which 
 must await you, if your vision is not betimes rectified 
 and cleared? He who pampers his appetite in the 
 feast of a dream, may awake and find himself famish- 
 ing for food; but what will be your consternation, 
 when your fancies give place to the real glories of 
 that Being, who * thou thoughtest was altogether 
 such a one as thyself?' He who is chased by assas- 
 sins in the sleep of night, awakes, exhausted perhaps 
 by his efforts to escape, yet finding himself reposing 
 unmolested on his bed ; but your disappointment, 
 
256 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 what will it be, when you awake from your day- 
 dreams of acceptance at the bar of God, and feel 
 yourself just kindling with ' eternal burnings,' and 
 discover then first, that the < gulf between him and 
 your own soul, which you had imagined to be but 
 a delightful vale through which you could pass at 
 any moment, is indeed impassable, 
 
 " The dark, unbottom'd, infinite abyss." 
 
 If this will be a surprise all surprise beyond, and 
 if the prospect of it be terrible, what must the real- 
 ity be ? Our thoughts cannot attain to it, and words 
 are too feeble to express that to which we can 
 attain. It is for you to reflect, whether you have a 
 faith which works by love and purifies the heart, 
 which dissatisfies you with yourself, and makes you 
 feel that you can be satisfied only with the likeness 
 of God. Such a faith you must have, or you must 
 be indulging notions of the divine perfections which 
 conceal your guilt, and which, if rested in, will 
 bring upon you this last surprise. Dreams they 
 are in which you seem to be growing rich, while 
 that which you have, is taken away ; in which 
 you seem to be in health and security, while the 
 work of death is going on ; in which perhaps you 
 seem to be brightening into the image, and glowing 
 with the flames of a seraph, while you are darken- 
 ing into the likeness, and burning with the fires, of 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 257 
 
 a fiend. The delusion is indeed a specious one. 
 You may love and cherish it, and it may abide with 
 you in life and in death, but it will dissolve in the 
 lustre of the i great day.' What you want is the 
 seasonable and patient application of your thoughts to 
 it, and to the means of your recovery from it. 1 Were 
 
 If we do not deceive ourselves, the species of infidelity of which 
 we speak, finds no little encouragement in the spirit and action of 
 the present times. We venture to think that an impatience of re- 
 flection, a taste for light reading and preaching if you please, and a 
 thirst for designless excitement prevail, which tend to dwarf the 
 faith of men, to unsettle well informed opinions, and to satisfy them 
 with the fiction of truth and religion. They are stirred up to action, 
 but not tempered and moulded to the truth. Fixed and certain prin- 
 ciples of faith, showing their legitimate effects in the conduct, do not 
 constitute the fashion of the day. The public mind seems to be at 
 sea, without sufficient ballast to steady it — top-light, and without any 
 direction that can safely be calculated upon. 
 
 Now, all this bustle, this < flying from pillar to post,' this < drifting 
 before the wind,' must excite and nourish sense, and break up and 
 prevent that calm contemplation which is the nurse of faith. It cer- 
 tainly turns our thoughts from ourselves and thus prevents that self- 
 acquaintance, the want of which makes us doubt the true character 
 of all corruption in us, and of all excellence foreign to us. It makes 
 this world, with its movements and interests so important and stir- 
 ring, that we can scarcely get a moment, certainly not a disposition, 
 to think of any thing in separation from them. With the great 
 majority, as to the attention which they pay to spiritual concerns, it 
 seems indeed that 
 
 " Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player 
 
 That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, 
 
 And then is heard no more ; a tale 
 
 Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, 
 
 Signifying nothing." 
 
 Men want reflection, a breaking off of their hold on the world, and 
 a steadier looking to the great truths which are set out for their 
 
 22* 
 
58 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 your temporal interest in like peril, you would not 
 rest unconcerned, nor would you leave what you 
 considered most valuable to you, in this life, to 
 chance attentions, and to the impotency of desires 
 and hopes that spring from no knowledge of their 
 object, and do nothing to attain it, yea, and hinder 
 your doing any thing to that end. We say, again, 
 your case is such, and your reason so competent to 
 judge of it, that you seem to want most a humour 
 to meditate on it. You take no proper cognizance 
 of what is going on in yourself, none of what God 
 
 guides, and from which they are to draw life eternal. But the times 
 do not favour the change. They foster the evil, and a great evil it is 
 that they do. Men are not in tranquil moods, though the times are 
 peaceable. The winds of passion swell and give direction to every 
 thing. Men must have figures of fancy and glowing colours of 
 truth ; the thing itself is but a dead fact, cold and narrow, — a sun in 
 clouds, whose heat is like that of the stove, without light and cheer- 
 less. They appear palsied in a measure to every thing but fiction 
 and storms. The inquiry is, what they can do with this or that, not 
 what it is; how this end can be reached by a cross-path, not what is 
 the safe and appointed road to it ; how this man can be brought to 
 serve a certain purpose, not how he is to be informed and convinced 
 as a rational creature. Very few seem to love the truth for the 
 truth's sake, without any foreign ends, and fewer still to see that 
 goodness and the love of truth are identical, going together as cause 
 and effect. Nothing but the brush of things takes their attention, 
 and they feel and see only in a blaze. They make no intellectual 
 progress, that is, none in a continuous direction, but eddy round and 
 round, best pleased to be in a whirl. Faith and principle they can 
 have little, and their opinions, which they advance to the place of 
 these, give way with every press, and change with every huzza for 
 new things. And here we leave the matter. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 259 
 
 is, and how shall you believe ? You hear, or might 
 hear, a voice as that of sweetest music in the pro- 
 mises and provisions of his grace, and in the bless- 
 ings of peace and plenty ; you hear, or might hear, 
 a noise as that of thunder in his threatenings and 
 judgments ; but you do not discern that this me- 
 lody, or this noise, comes from him ; you take both 
 his judgments and his mercies as natural accidents 
 and emergencies, which would come to pass, though 
 there were no dealing and speaking between God 
 and man. Not only do you not hear him in the 
 sound of these his organs, but you neither know nor 
 hear when he comes out of the whirlwind, and the 
 cloud, and the promise, and speaks to you, as it 
 were, ' face to face,' yea, and as with his own, his 
 full voice in Jesus Christ. Alas, that the Creator 
 should so spend the riches of his power and wisdom 
 in fitting up and furnishing this their earthly habi- 
 tation, and the more exceeding riches of his grace 
 and love, that he might raise them to a fellowship 
 with himself, and to more durable and glorious man- 
 sions in the skies, and still find it so difficult, let 
 alone their heart, to gain the eye or the ear of his 
 creatures ! 
 
260 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Inferences growing out of or consistent with the principles of the 
 preceding discussion — Doctrines of religion viewed in relation to 
 our spiritual necessities — Mode of justification — Due esteem of 
 Divine grace — Operation of faith — Its effects rational — Agency 
 of the Spirit — His fruits contrasted with the works of the flesh — 
 Just deductions of reason — Contrariety of Christianity to our 
 corrupt nature a proof of its divine origin — Reason competent to 
 judge of this — The assistance it gives to faith — Obligation it im- 
 poses on us to believe strongly — Justness of our thoughts of 
 God depending on the purity of our hearts— Conceptions of holy 
 men contrasted with those of the wicked — Necessity of a light 
 that tries and purifies. 
 
 If we suppose the reader to be convinced of his 
 sinfulness and unbelief, and filled with distress, what 
 can he do? He sees that God is just and holy, and 
 will by no means clear the guilty. But he learns 
 that he can be just, and yet the justifier of him that 
 believeth in Jesus. Still he feels his nature is cor- 
 rupt, and that sin attaches to all he does, and how shall 
 he have deliverance from it? He learns that the blood 
 of Christ releases him not only from the condemna- 
 tion of sin, but procures for him the grace and power 
 by which it may be successfully resisted, and shall 
 be finally overcome. After trying every thing else 
 for relief, and finding none, will he not here say, that 
 which I sought is found? I have nothing to pay, and 
 
TOPULAR INFIDELITY. 261 
 
 here is a salvation without price. I want something to 
 recommend me to a holy God, and here is a recom- 
 mendation which he cannot despise and must needs 
 honour. I am denied with sin, and here is a foun- 
 tain that washes away its every stain. I am weak 
 and can have no confidence in jnyself, but here is 
 strength sufficient for me, strength omnipotent, and 
 yet mine to employ. This, surely, is all my salva- 
 tion, and all my desire. 
 
 How holy and how averse soever to sin the Scrip- 
 tures represent God to be, (and considered as an 
 infinite and perfect Being we cannot conceive too 
 highly of him in this respect,) and how short soever 
 we may come of his holiness and of the requirements 
 of his law, neither is proper ground for doubting the 
 testimony of the Scriptures, or the fitness of God to 
 be the happy portion of creatures even so sinful and 
 unworthy as we are; for in the plan whereby he pro- 
 poses to save us, and confer on us this blessedness, it 
 is contrived, as with design to meet this objection to 
 our faith and joy, to put so high glory on us, that God 
 in heaven shall know no man from his Son so as not 
 to see the very righteousness of his Son in that man, 
 and that no man there shall be so humble, so de- 
 formed, or any way so inconsiderable, as that the 
 angels shall not desire to look upon his face as ex- 
 pressing the very beauty of Christ himself, a distinc- 
 
262 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 tion which they must needs regard as very glorious 
 in itself, and as making him no less so on whom it 
 is conferred, or rather whose it is as a nature. 
 
 How honourable to us, how wonderful in wisdom 
 and grace, is the plan of our salvation! How com- 
 plete is its adaptation to our wants — to the ends, 
 the great and glorious ends, which it proposes to an- 
 swer in us! If we would honour God, we must see 
 that we honour this his peculiar work. He has set 
 it apart in all its operations, and parts, and issues, as 
 eminently his work. We are assured in his word 
 that the end of our salvation is, that we may be ' to 
 the praise of the glory of his grace.' 1 The Son of 
 God, who is the unspeakable gift of his grace, and 
 the foundation of all blessing, is he that quickens us. 
 The Spirit of God is called 'the Spirit of grace,' 
 and is given to make us partakers of his ' grace and 
 truth.' The law of God entered, that when sin 
 should abound, we might know of its abounding, 
 and that ' grace might much more abound.' The 
 gospel is called 'the gospel of the grace of God,' and 
 the end of it is, that as sin had reigned unto death, 
 so grace might reign through righteousness unto 
 eternal life. This treasure, too, is committed unto 
 earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power 
 might all be of God, insomuch, that though the doc 
 1 Eph. i. 6. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 263 
 
 trine of Christ be the means of turning our souls 
 to God. yet it is but a means, an instrument, that the 
 efficacy of it might be seen to depend upon the power 
 of God, and that though we should have a due 
 esteem of the planting and watering of the word, 
 we might, at the same time, know that if even Paul 
 plant, and Apollos water, yet it is God only who 
 can give the increase. The design, on our part, of 
 magnifying his grace, should appear to us a chief 
 duty, a great and worthy design indeed, when ' the 
 only wise God our Saviour' takes such care to guard 
 its glory, and lays its foundations in such depths. If 
 the Scriptures do not deceive us, we shall never suc- 
 ceed, if we slight this wonderful plan in any of its 
 parts. If the blessings which it confers be so very 
 great as to bear any proportion to the expense and 
 care on the part of God in procuring them, then 
 well is it, if we make them ours; but double, unut- 
 terable is the folly of our unbelief, if we think to 
 gain them on other conditions than his own. 
 
 It is not however more certain that God engages 
 to perform all things for us, than that, if let alone, we 
 could and would do nothing adequate to attain the 
 end of our salvation; and yet, if we look to the com- 
 mencement and progress of divine life in the soul, 
 we shall see that nothing is done but in perfect ac- 
 cordance with our rational nature, meeting at every 
 
264 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 point both what we are and what we need. And if 
 we could be as rational in considering and embracing 
 it, as the provision is rational in its design and 
 operation, we should be ' wise unto salvation/ 
 " There is," says Dr. Donne, " a step towards God 
 before we come to faith, which is to understand; God 
 works first upon the understanding; he proceeds in 
 our conversion and regeneration as he did in our 
 first creation. Then man was nothing ; but God 
 breathed not a soul into that nothing, but of a clod 
 of earth he first made a body, and then into that body 
 he infused a soul. Man in his regeneration is nothing, 
 and does nothing. His body is not verier dust in the 
 grave, till a resurrection, than his soul is dust in the 
 body, till a resuscitation by grace. But then this 
 grace does not work upon this nothingness in man, 
 upon this mere privation; but grace finds out man's 
 natural faculties, and exalts them to a capacity and 
 susceptibility of the working thereof, and so by the 
 understanding infuses faith." Agreeably, as we see, 
 God first sends out his light and truth, and then calls 
 on all men everywhere to repent and believe; he 
 begins his instructions at the understanding. He 
 does not first say, I will make thee believe, but, as 
 here, 'I will instruct thee, and teach thee in the way 
 which thou shalt go: I will guide thee with mine 
 eye. Be ye not as the horse, or the mule, which 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 265 
 
 have no understanding; which must be held in with 
 bit and bridle, lest they come near unto thee.' 1 And 
 'the entrance of his word giveth light; it giveth 
 understanding unto the simple.' 2 
 
 The same reason and adaptation will be perceived 
 if we look farther on in the divine life; if we trace 
 faith working by love, purifying the heart, and over- 
 coming the world, the three special effects which 
 the Scriptures ascribe to it. Take notice, too, that 
 they are the very effects which it is necessary should 
 be wrought in us; for we are not naturally prone to 
 love God, neither are we naturally pure, and the ob- 
 jects we choose and the affections we let out on them 
 cannot purify us, nor are we naturally disposed or 
 competent to subdue and overcome the love of the 
 world; but faith can do all this, and the process is 
 perfectly agreeable to our rational nature. It un- 
 folds new and incomparably attractive objects of 
 affection and hope, and points to God as the source 
 and centre of them, and we must needs love him, 
 as we will always love that which is most lovely to 
 our view, and we must needs seek him too, as we will 
 always seek that which appears most estimable and 
 desirable, and he will then appear not only so 
 estimable and desirable as nothing else can, but he 
 is really so estimable and desirable, that our loving 
 1 Ps. xxxii. 8, 9. 2 p s . cx i x# i 30 . 
 
 22 
 
266 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 him shall make him ever appear more and more so for 
 ever; and so shall faith purify our hearts, as they can- 
 not but be purified in loving what is pure, and 
 enable us to overcome the world, as we cannot but 
 feel ourselves masters of it, when we have an object 
 that so transcends it, and are filled with desires and 
 hopes carrying us upward, and not deigning so much 
 as to light on things below. 
 
 This is all agreeable to the truest philosophy — and 
 we can judge of it for ourselves. We may also see 
 the same wisdom in the work which the Spirit has 
 to accomplish in us. It is a wonderful work, yet a 
 work meeting, so completely and rationally, the ne- 
 cessities of our nature, that we must be very stupid 
 not to believe it of Divine appointment, a witness to 
 ourselves, that should command our faith in the word 
 of God. 
 
 There is a secret life of the good man which is 
 carried on, without the observation of the world. 
 What most distinguishes him is, that he has ' the 
 secret of the Lord/ a light and agency from him, 
 one enabling him to see moral qualities aright, and 
 the other disposing and helping him in the fight of 
 faith and holiness. When he rightly understands, 
 and avails himself of these, he is full of light and 
 power, that is, he has the strength and the Spirit of 
 the Lord, — the one having this condition, that it can 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 267 
 
 be perfected in his weakness, and the other this 
 office, that he is sent to dwell in him, to enlighten, 
 sanctify, actuate, and mould him to his likeness. 
 He has an armour and all needful instructions pro- 
 vided for him, but without these aids he can do no- 
 thing ; his strength is weakness, his mind is dark- 
 ness, his heart is prepossessed, and indisposed to 
 good. Now, the great difficulty he experiences in 
 making progress, after he has been enlightened and 
 turned to righteousness, is, that having been used to 
 do it, he is still prone and tempted to walk in his 
 own strength and in the sight of his own eyes. He 
 follows the gleaming light of his passions and de- 
 sires — that glowing of insects which is never seen 
 except when true effulgence is withdrawn — and no 
 wonder that he stumbles, falls back, and complains 
 of 6 the body of this death.' < Without me,' says 
 Christ, * ye can do nothing,' and he is acting on the 
 faith of his own capacity. We must believe God 
 fully, or we shall profit little by a belief of him in 
 part. We should especially trust him in things 
 which our 6 confidence in the flesh' prompts us to 
 discredit. We should be most suspicious of allow- 
 ances which import our strength and importance. 
 We should be jealous of any goodness which gives 
 us confidence in ourselves. We should be alarmed 
 at any peace of conscience which is not i through 
 
268 POPULAR INFIDELITT. 
 
 our Lord Jesus Christ.' What we think of our- 
 selves is not so much a proof of what we are, as 
 what we think of Christ, what we are ready to do 
 for him, and what we expect of him. In his light 
 alone we see light. What we see in us that is not 
 of him, is of the earth and earthy. The Spirit takes 
 of the things of Christ and shows them unto us ; he 
 leads us into the truth of Christ ; he seals us unto 
 the day of the redemption' of Christ. We have no- 
 thing to do with God out of Christ, nor has he any 
 thing to do with us, but in him we may be c a habita- 
 tion of God through the Spirit.' 'Whatsoever is 
 born of God overcometh the world.' It overcomes 
 the world, because it is not of it, and aspires to God 
 above. The strength by which the victory is won, 
 is seen to be of God, and is referred to the fact that 
 the man is ' created anew,' and his heart become the 
 seat of the renewing influences of the Holy Spirit. 
 In this dependence is all the affluence of his strength. 
 The omnipotence of grace puts itself forth in arms 
 of flesh, and the soldier of the cross is thus made 
 mighty. The Holy Spirit, having renewed the 
 soul, exerts his own gracious power in it ; so that 
 there need be no weakness at all in the Christian. 
 He girds his loins about l with truth,' imparts to 
 him that holiness which is as a breast-plate for his 
 protection, inspires him with wisdom and might in 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 269 
 
 the Scriptures, indites his petitions, and gives him 
 power with God in prayer, and power against sin 
 and the devil. Thus the work goes on. His spi- 
 ritual foes are numerous, but the gifts and graces of 
 the Holy Spirit, in the exercise and strength of 
 which he strives against them, are numerous also. 
 And it is not difficult to see the order and the wis- 
 dom of the process, so far as its adaptation to our 
 nature is to be considered. The works of the flesh, 
 and the fruits of the Spirit, as they are termed in 
 the Scriptures, are opposites, and the only question 
 as to complete success, unless we fail by our wilful 
 choice, is answered by inquiring which of these 
 hosts has the strongest and wisest leader. There is 
 no inequality of numbers, and they stand breast to 
 breast, in nature and design opposite and irrecon- 
 cilable. There is a separate and mighty energy of 
 grace for every opposing and rebellious appetite, 
 temptation, and sin. For illustration look at the 
 array. Love to God opposes itself to all other im- 
 moderate attachments. Joy in believing is opposed 
 to despondency and inaction. The ' peace of God' 
 is opposed to variances, strifes, and contentions. 
 Meekness is opposed to resentments and complaints. 
 Gentleness, kindness, contends against envy, jea- 
 lousy, and implacability. Charity, into which all 
 other graces run as if to make one pervading perfec- 
 23* 
 
270 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 tion, contends against hatred, pride, and every thing 
 that is not like itself, lovely and of good report. 
 We might proceed further, but let it be observed 
 that these and all other fruits of the Spirit are work- 
 ing in this manner to demolish the ' natural man' 
 with his ' corrupt affections and lusts.' 
 
 We trust the process of this operation is intelligi- 
 ble, and that the Christian will see his need of 
 the Spirit, that with him he can do all things, and 
 without him absolutely nothing, 
 
 We see also how the Spirit exerts his agency in 
 the soul. All the desires and affections of the ' carnal 
 mind' have their opposites in the products of his 
 influence. What he has begun, if we oppose it not 
 but strive with him, he will accomplish. He will 
 do nothing without and contrary to our wills. That 
 so great blessedness which he proposes, he will not so 
 confer but we shall have it by our choice, and, if not 
 a share of merit in its procurement, at least an 
 agency that bespeaks our capacity for receiving and 
 enjoying it. Man's virtues and powers are so incon- 
 siderable, that we seem to see best his responsibi- 
 lity and greatness in his capacity to take on, or 
 rather, to decline a divine nature, to drive away 
 from him the Agent of such glory to himself. But 
 the Christian who does this, or thinks to do any good 
 thing, without courting his presence and aid, is 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 271 
 
 guilty of a folly which is so great, that our attempts 
 to describe it but obscure its wonders. That an angel 
 can go out from the bosom and favour of God we 
 can, with difficulty, believe, but when permitted to 
 return, after tasting for a while the bitterness and 
 anguish, the remorse and shame of sin and exile, 
 that he should fly back to his place just as the drop- 
 pings and the beams of heaven were pouring upon 
 him again — this is what we cannot believe — this is 
 a choice which must more than double his folly ; 
 but how it must affect the guilt, to what measure it 
 must stretch the folly of one who returns to the bor- 
 ders of such blessedness by a way that is sprinkled 
 with the blood of the Son of God — this is what we 
 best express without expression ! 
 
 This blessed Agent, by which every thing good is 
 wrought in us, is too little considered by pious peo- 
 ple. If we read the writings of the inspired apostles, 
 we shall find him the abounding subject of instruc- 
 tion and admonition. If we look at the plan of 
 salvation, and the mode in which it is applied and 
 made effectual to its end, we shall find that though 
 it is a finished work, full of grace and truth, and shines 
 like the sun, making it all light around, yet it is un- 
 approachable by us, till the Spirit brings to us the 
 good gifts of its purchase, and works in us that 
 acceptance of them which makes them ours. He 
 
272 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 breathes into us the breath of a new life, and dif- 
 fuses over the soul the beams of his own excellence; 
 and the life that begins in him, can continue only by 
 him, and act only through him, — he acting in us, and 
 yet we so acting that all our action is ours in respon- 
 sibility, and his in worth and acceptance. The 
 Christian has no merit, if it be not merit, which is 
 not merit but duty, to welcome and cherish the aids 
 which are proffered to him, and which so do every 
 thing for him that he can do nothing without them. 
 This is the reason why genuine humility is made 
 so favourite and distinguished a grace in the Scrip- 
 tures, that it seems to comprise all others. It is a 
 necessary fruit of all true knowledge of ourselves 
 and of God. All that we have done or cannot do, all 
 that God has done or will do for us, has a tendency to 
 produce it, when justly considered. A proud, vain, 
 conceited Christian, can have no experience of 
 Christianity. He may have zeal, he may have the 
 sentiment of religion; but the faith, the principles — 
 the bones of the system — he has little relish for 
 these, and there is a chance that he may have little 
 charity for those who have. The humble man is 
 not likely to attempt any thing in his own strength, 
 and is never so well pleased as when he best knows 
 that God does all things for him. He thinks not to 
 pray without the Spirit, not to speak advisedly with- 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 273 
 
 out him, not to resist temptation without him, not to 
 understand the Scriptures without him, and of course 
 continues humble; he has nothing to exalt himself, 
 though God is greatly exalted in him and he in 
 God. 
 
 When we can invent or conceive any possible 
 plan whereby the corruption of our nature can be 
 met and overcome in a way more rational, more 
 comprehensible, more easy of belief, than it is by 
 that of the gospel, we may venture to discredit and 
 reject this ; but, till then, we can scarcely give 
 stronger proof of the truth of the Scriptures than 
 by our indifference or opposition to this. The 
 Scriptures do not presume that we will act with 
 reason on this subject, though they leave us without 
 excuse for not acting so. They are so ordered, and 
 the scheme of divine grace has such depth of wis- 
 dom in it, and proceeds upon such a foresight of 
 what our nature is, as that, when we come to a right 
 mind, (a mind that perceives the truth without any 
 bias from an evil heart, or in spite of such bias,) and 
 come to this mind we must, nothing shall appear so 
 irrational, and, if we could doubt then, so incredible, as 
 the difficulties we now make with religion, especially 
 with the method of our deliverance from the curse and 
 the dominion of sin. One would think indeed that we 
 must be affectedly blind and stupid, or wantonly indo- 
 
274 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 lent and thoughtless, or frowardly vain and perverse, 
 to stick at this doctrine, and not see in the adaptation 
 of all its parts and agencies to our nature and to 
 the accomplishment of the ends it proposes, the most 
 convincing evidence of its truth, and of that our 
 great necessity which it comes to relieve. Men, who 
 trouble themselves with this doctrine as presented 
 in the Scriptures, or who do not trouble themselves 
 to know and understand it, and therefore, in either 
 case, virtually discredit it, discrediting their need of 
 it, and actually reject it, not complying with its con- 
 ditions, believe that there is a God, that goodness 
 is one of his principal attributes, that he has a special 
 regard to man as one of his noblest creatures, and 
 capable of knowing and judging of his dispensa- 
 tions, and would believe as much as this, if God had 
 not revealed it, because their reason would collect 
 it from observation of notorious and otherwise un- 
 accountable appearances in nature and providence; 
 and, therefore, if they do not doubt the sinfulness and 
 misery of their state, nor doubt that God will show 
 mercy to sinners, it is singular that their reason 
 should not close with the doctrine of his grace as 
 the only relief which it is reasonable to conceive; 
 for if any relief be admissible, (and men who slight 
 this doctrine always expect it in some way,) and 
 God has made known no other way of granting it, 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 275 
 
 reason, left to itself, and comparing and weighing 
 things to be believed with things known, would infer 
 that this is indeed God's method, and that, as coming 
 from him, it must be a wise, benevolent, and un- 
 changeable one, suited, in all respects, to its end, 
 ( even our salvation.' And our reason seems to be 
 treated and addressed as having this responsibility 
 and capacity of judging in the case. The appeal is 
 strong to the reason of man, when our Saviour says, 
 ' He that rejecteth me, and receiveth not my words, 
 hath one that judgeth him; the word that I have 
 spoken, the same shall judge him in the last day;' 
 and again, ' If I do not the works of my Father, 
 believe me not;' ' If I had not come and spoken 
 unto them, and done among them the works which 
 no other man did, they had not had sin.' This 
 language implies that our believing is a thing so 
 reasonable, that it is the most unreasonable thing in 
 the world not to believe. And so it is, and so it 
 will appear, when 'the word shall judge us in the 
 last day.' 
 
 If we would consider the system with half the 
 candour and thoughtfulness, which its importance, as 
 concerning us, should entitle it to — consider it in its 
 several parts, in its applicability to our exigencies, 
 and in its final result, the working of that charity in 
 us which is 'the fulfilling of the law,' and which, as 
 
276 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 nothing else does or can do, makes us both happy 
 and deserving to be so, reason would at least carry 
 us to a faith that would not let us rest on other 
 foundations, especially on foundations laid in the 
 exceptions and fancies which our corruptions take 
 against this, as humbling, or rather, as exalting us in 
 a way that does not humble God, raising us, not 
 bringing him down to make us meet. "Concerning 
 faith, the principal object whereof is that eternal 
 verity which hath discovered the treasures of hid- 
 den wisdom in Christ; concerning hope, the highest 
 object whereof is that everlasting goodness which in 
 Christ doth quicken the dead; concerning charity, 
 the final object whereof is that incomprehensible 
 beauty which shineth in the countenance of Christ 
 the Son of the living God; concerning these virtues, 
 the first of which, beginning here with a weak appre- 
 hension of things not seen, endeth with an intuitive 
 vision of God in the world to come; the second 
 beginning here with a trembling expectation of 
 things far removed, and as yet only heard of, endeth 
 with real and actual fruition of that which no tongue 
 can express; the third beginning here with a weak 
 inclination of heart toward Him unto whom we are 
 not able to approach, endeth with endless union, the 
 mystery of which is higher than the reach of the 
 thoughts of us men ; concerning these, without 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 277 
 
 which there can be no salvation, was there ever 
 mention made saving only in that law which God 
 himself hath from heaven revealed?" 1 Surely reason 
 should be carried by the argument which Christian- 
 ity contains itself. It is a sun of unparalleled bright- 
 ness; we have no beams, and we can imagine none, 
 to match with it: but it is to us unbelievers a sun in 
 clouds, yet making the day lightsome, which would 
 otherwise be totally dark. The clouds, however, 
 are all our own, — and if we would steadily apply the 
 piercing eye of reason to the great object, they would 
 soon clear away and leave us to admire and rejoice 
 in the surpassing light. 
 
 We may further infer the truth of the Christian 
 religion from the fact that it represents God to be 
 1 such a one' as corrupt men are not prone to con- 
 ceive him to be. And it is evident it represents 
 him to be such a being as he is, or that we have no 
 knowledge of him ; for the knowledge it imparts 
 accords with the best knowledge we can derive of 
 him from other sources, and no other religion teaches 
 any thing that is consistent with our ideas of his 
 perfections. It alone requires us to honour him, as 
 it seems agreeable to reason he should wish to be 
 honoured, not with external pomp, or with the sacri- 
 fice of human or other victims, but in spirit and in 
 
 1 Ecclesiastical Polity, Book i. p. 265. 
 
 24 
 
278 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 truth, with love, adoration, and praise. In a word, 
 it alone represents him, not in the moral likeness of 
 man, but in that pure likeness which it would con- 
 fer on man as unworthy, and in this it is that the 
 evidence of its divine origin shines most. Other 
 religions represent him in the moral likeness of 
 man; they ascribe to him the passions and the vir- 
 tues of man; and it must be so in a religion of 
 merely human origin, because man, in the darkness 
 and corruption of his nature, can have no higher 
 model of excellence than himself by which to regu- 
 late his notions of God, — and because, also, his con- 
 ceptions, under any advantages, of a higher being 
 than himself, will be modified by the cherished pro- 
 pensities of his evil nature. This truth is confirmed 
 by all pagan notions of the worship and character of 
 a supreme deity. These notions, too, will be found 
 absurd and revolting in proportion to the ignorance 
 and viciousness of those by whom they are enter- 
 tained. Are their employments ever so unlawful, 
 they are the employments in which they expect 
 to engage in a future world. Are their highest 
 pleasures ever so degrading, they are the pleasures 
 with which they expect and desire to be rewarded. 
 Are their religious rites ever so cruel, and their 
 modes of worship ever so frivolous, by these their 
 deities are supposed to be delighted and honoured 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 279 
 
 How unlike the God the Christian religion teaches us 
 to contemplate, as requiring of his rational creature, 
 man, a purity and elevation of character which he 
 does not naturally exhibit; as making his supreme 
 felicity hereafter to consist in employments for which 
 he has little relish here, and in which it does not 
 presume he can find his appropriate delight until re- 
 newed in the likeness of his Creator! If all religions 
 were arraigned at the bar of reason, like so many sus- 
 pected criminals, would not this one have a witness 
 to the truth of its pretensions, in its very judge? Does 
 it not meet man in a condition for which he seems 
 not adapted, making provisions for its evils by 
 presenting objects to his affections and hopes more 
 worthy of his exalted nature, and furnishing the 
 means by which he may be qualified to obtain and 
 enjoy them? Does it not bear witness of its superior 
 origin by making the God it obeys, possessed of 
 attributes which accord with the principles of en- 
 lightened conscience — a Being such as depraved 
 men, without his assistance, have never imagined, 
 and such as all experience proves they would not 
 'have rule over them?' Such a religion, it is to be 
 presumed, will be doubted by evil men, or believed 
 with such modifications and relaxations of its de- 
 mands as will make it virtually a religion invented 
 by their passions, — an angel sent from heaven to 
 
2S0 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 succour their security in delusion and impenitence. 
 A religion not doubted in either of these senses by 
 profligate men is one evidently by which they are 
 approved, which neither elevates the character of 
 man, nor seeks nor receives the smiles of Heaven. 
 The doubts of such men, with regard to the Chris- 
 tian religion, justify the presumption that its origin 
 is divine. But reason approves the voice of reve- 
 lation which calls upon them to believe that their 
 infidelity is the offspring of guilt. The more the 
 religion they doubt is investigated, the more will its 
 evidences, its beauties, and hidden wonders be un- 
 folded ; but the contrary is true with respect to 
 every other. This, too, covets their closest observa- 
 tion — it lightens through universal nature — it comes 
 to them in the attire of heavenly peace — it appeals 
 to their fears in thunders, and to their kindly sym- 
 pathies in the accents of love — and all to awaken 
 their attention and gain their heart. 
 
 We think, then, that the contrariety of human 
 character to the demands of the Christian religion, is 
 just what we should expect from a system proposing 
 the elevation of man, and bringing against him the 
 charge of guilt. No wonder, indeed, that we see 
 the rule of its estimation differing from that of man; 
 if it were not so, it would command little reverence 
 from him, and he would turn it off as impertinent to 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 281 
 
 his wants, and as incompetent to the task of con- 
 vincing him of his guilt, or of delivering him from 
 it, should he be convinced. Still, as it is, it is not as 
 he would have it, and clearly not as he would have 
 made it — but in this consists both its worthiness of 
 God, and its suitableness to man. Our exception to 
 it, is but a plea in behalf of ourselves, a vindication of 
 our sins, a calling in question of the wisdom of God 
 in a way that does both prove it, and our incapacity of 
 judging in the case. Both our complaints against 
 the system, and our misconceptions of it, may be 
 safely understood to presume its truth — the one as 
 arguing our guilt, and therefore our duty to comply 
 with it, and our need of the relief it brings — the 
 other, yea both as proving its excellency to be above 
 our experience and taste, and therefore above our 
 understanding, and worthy of the divine descent 
 which it claims. 
 
 Now, when we find that all other systems of 
 religion are like ourselves, and therefore needing 
 that which we need — are but the shows of the things, 
 not the things themselves, which are necessary to 
 bring us relief, it should not be an inconsiderable or 
 vain thing with us, that we find Christianity, when 
 contrasted with the developements of our fallen 
 nature and with our felt necessities, a system so 
 
 agreeable to our reason, that it must own itself baf 
 24* 
 
282 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 fled in every argument against it, and so replete with 
 the knowledge of ourselves, that it seems to 'tell us 
 all things that ever we did,' and to require of us all 
 that our conscience had, as it were, before suspected 
 to be our duty. We are rational creatures; and how 
 shall we answer it to ourselves, and to God who gave 
 us our reason, and speaks to it 'as no man ever spoke,' 
 and therefore so, that we must needs know it is him- 
 self and not another, how shall we answer it, if we 
 do not act rationally on this the subject most worthy 
 of the homage of our reason, and disclosing to us 
 objects of affection and hope which should bear us 
 above all the difficulties sense and matter oppose to 
 our faith? As that which is rooted in the prophecies, 
 has its full blossom in the gospel, and becomes thence 
 the greatest of trees, and is dropping in abundance 
 the richest of fruits, so doctrines carrying in them 
 so bright a divinity, that our words of exception, 
 like the scoffs of old, 'Behold your king,' 'This is 
 the king of the Jews,' do indeed speak the truth 
 which they mean not — doctrines so proportioned to 
 our reason, so rooted therein, that there can be no 
 reason but in believing them — should have a full 
 bloom in our faith, and bring forth onward ' sixty' 
 and a 'hundred-fold' of fruit, — making us, not the 
 dry limbs, not the adhering moss that has a life from 
 it, though not assimilating with it, but the lively and 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 2S3 
 
 growing branches of the ( tree whose leaves are for 
 the healing of the nations.' 
 
 When God so condescends to us, and gives us 
 such types of himself, yea, and of our reason too, in 
 the grace of the gospel, shall we refuse to rest our- 
 selves on the bosom of his promise, and look further 
 for a provision that suits our case, or further than 
 this he has made, for a pledge of fair and open access, 
 or of sweet and honourable entrance into the ever- 
 lasting favour of Him with whom we have to do? 
 It is good to think often that we are reasonable 
 creatures, and that God calls us only to a reasonable 
 service. He treats us as wise, yet having much to 
 learn, and therefore we may not presume; he pro- 
 vides for us as sinful and helpless, yet assuring us 
 of strength, which trusting we cannot fail, and there- 
 fore we may not despair. If we have not faith, let 
 reason exercise itself to soften the heart to receive 
 it, as wax the seal, and then shall we know what we 
 believe, and why and how we came to that happy 
 state. If we have faith, and it be < as a grain of 
 mustard seed/ still well is it, well indeed, if we 
 exercise our reason to give it an intelligent growth, 
 a growth of truth. Then shall all matters between 
 God and our reason be evenly adjusted, and the 
 * mountains remove hence,' and leave us ' strong in 
 the Lord and in the power of his might.' " Implicit 
 
2S4 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 believers, ignorant believers, the adversary may 
 swallow; but the understanding believer, he must 
 chew, and pick bones, before he come to assimilate 
 him, and make him like himself. The implicit be- 
 liever stands in an open field, and the enemy will 
 ride over him easily; the understanding believer is 
 a fenced town, and he hath outworks to lose before 
 the town be pressed; that is, reasons to be answered, 
 before his faith be shaken, and he will sell himself 
 dear, and lose himself by inches, if he be sold or 
 lost at last; and therefore, sciant omnes, let all men 
 know, that is, endeavour to inform themselves, to 
 understand." 1 
 
 Finally, we see from every part of this investi- 
 gation, and reason teaches us as much, that the cor- 
 rectness of our thoughts of God must depend upon 
 the purity of our hearts. We may speak of him in 
 language worthy of his greatness, we may be elo- 
 quent in his praises, but it is all sound, if God as he 
 is, is not the object of our love, if there exists in the 
 heart a secret repugnance to his purity. It is to no 
 purpose that we, as others, profess to admire and 
 know God, if we are not, like them, 6 partakers of 
 his holiness.' In that case, we are like the wretched 
 profligate who intrudes himself into the society of 
 the virtuous, and affects to enter into their sympa- 
 
 1 Dr. Donne's Sermon on Acts ii. 36. 
 
POPULAR INFIDELITY. 285 
 
 thies, to appreciate and manifest delicacies of senti- 
 ment he has never felt, and virtues he does not wish 
 to possess — like him who has learned to pronounce 
 a foreign language which he cannot translate into his 
 own, and thus reads in it, without emotion or under- 
 standing, passages by which those who hear him are 
 moved and delighted. 
 
 If there be a tendency of our minds to level down 
 the perfections of God to corresponding qualities in 
 our own nature, the more we ' purify our hearts in 
 obeying the truth' the more worthy will be our con- 
 ceptions of him, and the more will we rejoice and 
 ( give thanks at the remembrance of his holiness.' 
 In proportion as we ascend in likeness to him, we 
 shall think worthily of him. But if we do not love 
 what he loves, and hate what he hates, if we are not 
 quick to perceive and approve the manifestations of 
 his will and perfections, reason adjudges that we 
 take heed, i lest the light that is in us be darkness,' 
 lest we desire rather to liken him to ourselves, than 
 to be assimilated to his perfections. The light we 
 have, if it does not elevate our conceptions, and 
 purify and warm our affections, is not ' the light of 
 the knowledge of the glory of God;' this is as a bright- 
 ness from the face of God — a sun in us; that is a fitter 
 emblem of a winter's evening, cold as it is clear — a 
 moonshine which is to us but an earnest of night. 
 
2S6 POPULAR INFIDELITY. 
 
 " The wisdom of God created understanding fit 
 and proportionate to truth, the object and end of it, 
 as the eye to the thing visible. If our understand- 
 ing have a film of ignorance over it, or be blear with 
 gazing on other false glisterings, what is that to 
 truth? If we would but purge with sovereign eye- 
 salve that intellectual ray which God hath planted 
 in us, then we would believe the Scripture" protest- 
 ing their own plainness and perspicuity." 1 We must 
 look above ourselves, if we would not fall below 
 what we are. We must close our eyes to the deceit- 
 ful gleams of our own virtues, and accustom them to 
 a more serene, and pure, and healthful effulgence. 
 We must kindle with the discovery of higher 
 glories, pant for assimilation to nobler objects, and 
 drink in purer streams than those of earth. We 
 must look steadily to a brightness that makes glo- 
 rious all on whom it looks. We may be overcome 
 with it, as Daniel, when his < comeliness within him 
 was turned into corruption,' or as Isaiah, when he 
 exclaimed, < wo is me, for I am a man of unclean 
 lips,' but, ( like gold that is tried in the furnace,' we 
 shall be the purer and the brighter. 
 ' Milton. 
 
 THE END. 
 
RECOMMENDATIONS. 3 
 
 believers. Every kind and degree of unbelief are powerfully assailed. 
 The secret enemies of faith are dragged from their lurking places, strip- 
 ped of their disguise, and held up to "the light in their naked deformities. 
 The extensive reading of this work cannot but promote the cause of reli- 
 gion in the community. — National Gazette, Aug. 6. 1836. 
 
 Popular Infidelity. By the Rev. Herman Hooker, M. A. — This 
 work supplies a desideratum. Popular Infidelity, of which it treats, lias 
 been too long permitted to extend its influence, without any direct op- 
 position from the religious press. Those who could, have refrained from 
 defending " the faith once delivered to the Saints ;" and Heresy has been 
 permitted to stalk abroad triumphantly, where the principles and doc- 
 trines of the Scriptures should have taken precedence. Every Chris- 
 tian — every clergyman at least, who would defend his belief — should for- 
 tify himself with this unanswerable volume. — Philadelphia Gazette Aug. 
 8, 1836. 
 
 Popular Infidelity. By the Rev Herman Hooker, M. A. — We 
 have read this book with no ordinary interest. The subject on which it 
 treats is of vital importance to every class of readers. We have seve- 
 ral valuable works upon this subject, but none, that we know of, which 
 occupies the ground taken by our author. 
 
 He has descended into the dark arcana of the human soul, and follow- 
 ing the intricate winding of the unbelief through all its hidden and unseen 
 influences, has exposed the fallacy of that popular sentimentalism which 
 often passes for religion, and shown the contrariety which exists between 
 the professed opinions and conduct of men, to be owing to the latent 
 infidelity of the heart. 
 
 It will be difficult to find a book, that so drives us into the contempla- 
 tion of ourselves ; that so accurately analyses the thoughts and feelings 
 of men, and so vividly exhibits the self-flattery, by which we cheat our- 
 selves into the belief, that we reverence and admire the character of 
 God, when all we admire and reverence, is but the image of ourselves, 
 which we have contrived to ascribe to him. 
 
 In a word, it is rich in the most difficult of all knowledge, the know- 
 ledge of ourselves. It is full of thought; thought that often surprises, 
 not only by originality of conception, but by the striking and beautiful 
 contrast in which it is presented. 
 
 Few persons, we imagine, can read any one chapter of this book, and 
 not wish to read the whole. The style is colloquial, nervous, and an- 
 imated ; the language, in a high degree, Saxon. 
 
 The author is peculiarly happy in his citations from the Scriptures. 
 The passages cited, not only illustrate and enforce the sentiments he ad- 
 vances, but the manner of their introduction illustrates and enforces 
 them ; so that they are seen to possess a charm, and an extension of ap- 
 plication, which the reader had before failed to observe. 
 
 We have seldom read a book in which so little could be anticipated. 
 As the reader turns from page to page, he finds his curiosity continually 
 excited by new and unexpected thoughts, presented under a rich variety 
 of beautiful and striking illustration. When he supposes himself at the 
 end of the subject, it comes up in a new light, and new fields of contem- 
 plation open before him. — iV. Y. Evangelist. 
 
 Popular Infidelity. By the Rev. Herman Hooker, belongs to a 
 class of works which are seldom read as extensively as they deserve, 
 
4 RECOMMENDATIONS. 
 
 Its purpose is to show to what extent a practical disbelief m Christiani- 
 ty exists even among those, who living in a Christian community, and 
 committing no violation of its external ordinances, believe and call them- 
 selves Christians. That this adherance to the form, without retaining 
 the substance, is too common among all classes, is a truth which even 
 superficial observation will render manifest, but which Mr. H. illustrates 
 by many well chosen examples. We wish his essay a circulation cor- 
 responding to its merits. — Commercial Herald, Aug. 9, 1836 
 
 I have a high opinion of the piety and the talents of the Rev. Mr. Hook- 
 er, the editor, and consider him as well qualified to conduct a work 
 of this nature. 
 
 SAMUEL MILLER, 
 Professor of Eccl. History in the Theological Seminary, Princeton. 
 
 As to the Rev. Mr. Hooker, your editor, I regard him as one of our 
 most accomplished and intellectual men. Any thing that he adjudges fit 
 for the press, and any thing that comes from his pen, has for me suffi- 
 cient recommendation in that very fact. His name ought to be, for any 
 work, a full passport to the confidence of the public. His work on " Pop- 
 ular Infidelity," or Philosophy of Unbelief, one of the Library of Christian 
 Knowledge, is of itself sufficient to secure him a high and lasting repu- 
 tation as "a man of profound thinking, of very great logical power, and 
 of very enviable literary attainments. I think that volume alone worth 
 the price of the whole set. 
 
 HENRY W. DUCACHET r M. D. 
 Rector of St. Stephens, Philadelphia. 
 
 Charles Henry Alden, speaking of the Christian Library, says :— " Mr. 
 Hooker's original work, has been so recently published, and so extensively 
 spoken well of, that I will say only, that if a man desires the best of com- 
 pany, in which he will find what will please and improve and dignify dur- 
 ing his reading hours, let him discourse with Hooker's Popular Infidelity." 
 
 Rev. John Todd says, speaking of Mr. Hooker, " That any work to 
 which he might prefix his name, would be a sound, discreet, judicious 
 book. His taste is correct, discriminating; and his own pen at times, is 
 guided by a hand of no ordinary strength. Honestly attached to the Epis- 
 copal Church, he, nevertheless, is so endowed with the limbs of a man, 
 and the heart of a Christian, that his denominational habits do not hinder 
 him from appearing in a workmg dress, in the vineyard of his Master. I 
 can sincerely recommend the "Library," [of which his Popular Infidelity 
 is one vol.] as containing such works of practical piety, as will be use- 
 ful in every family, and I could wish that the' circulation of such works 
 might banish the light reading of the age. I hope your circulation will be 
 very extensive. 
 
 We have road his volume on "Popular Infidelity," much to our plea- 
 sure and edification. Mr. Hooker has a clear and philosophical mind, 
 which analyses truth to its simplest elements, and presents it in pure, 
 plain, Saxon English. — Christian Witness, Boston Avg. 12, 1836. 
 
Theological Seminary-Speer j-'j^'"* 
 
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