It is the administrative justice of God that has been satisfied by the

atonement. This merely enforces the punishment of the sinner, as I have

said, in order to secure the ends of good government; and hence, it is

capable of yielding and giving place to any expedient by which those ends

may be secured. In other words, it is capable of being satisfied by

whatever method God may be pleased to adopt in order to secure the ends of

good government, and to accomplish his own glorious designs, without the

punishment of the sinner. All this, as we shall see hereafter, has been

most gloriously accomplished by the death and sufferings of Christ. God

can now be just, and yet the justifier of him that believes. The great

obstacles which the administrative justice of God interposes to the

forgiveness of sin, having been taken out of the way and nailed to the

cross, that unbounded mercy from which the provision of such a Saviour

proceeded, can now flow down upon a lost and ruined world in all the

fulness and plenitude of its pardoning and sanctifying power.

As a general thing, those who undertake to vindicate the sufferings of

Christ against objections, rest their defence on the ground that they are

a satisfaction to the administrative justice of God. This is seen, not

from their express declarations, but from the nature of their arguments

and defence; as if they unconsciously turned to this position as to their

stronghold. On the other hand, those who assail the sacrifice of Christ,

almost invariably treat it as if it were a satisfaction to the retributive

justice of God. Both sides seem to be right, and both wrong. The whole

idea of satisfaction to divine justice by a substitute is not absurd,

because the idea of satisfaction to retributive justice is so; nor is the

whole justice of God, or the justice of God in every sense of the word, to

be conceived of as satisfied by the atonement, because his administrative

justice is thus satisfied. When it is thus asserted, then, that the

justice of God is satisfied by the atonement; we should be careful, we

think, to observe in what precise sense this proposition is true, and in

what sense it is false; in order that we may pursue the clear and shining

light of truth, neither distracted by the clamour of words nor enveloped

in clouds of logomachy.

There is a class of theologians, we are aware, and a very large class, who

regard the sufferings of Christ as a satisfaction to the retributive

justice of God. But this forms no part of the doctrine which we have

undertaken to defend; and, indeed, we think the defence of such a view of

the atonement clearly impossible. It is placed on the ground, that the

sins of the world, or of those for whom Christ died, have been imputed to

him; and hence he really suffers the inflictions of the retributive

justice of God. The objections to this scheme, which seek to remove the

apparent hardships and injustice of the sufferings of the innocent, by the

fiction of the imputation of the sins of the guilty, we shall not dwell

upon here; as we so fully considered them in the preceding chapter. To our

mind they are plainly unanswerable. We would vindicate the sufferings of

Christ no more than those of infants, on the ground that sin was imputed

to him, so as to render them just. On the contrary, we hold them to have

been wholly undeserved; and instead of vindicating them on the ground of

stern justice, we vindicate them on the ground of the infinite, unbounded,

and overflowing goodness of God.

It is easy to see that such a view of the atonement does not in the least

degree conflict with the justice of God. It merely teaches, that God has

provided for the salvation of the world by the sufferings of Jesus Christ,

who was without spot or blemish. Surely we cannot find it in our hearts to

object, that the sufferings of Christ for such a purpose are not

consistent with the justice of God, if we will only read a single page in

the great volume of nature and of providence. It has been said by Bishop

Butler, that such an objection “concludes altogether as much against God’s

whole original constitution of nature, and the whole daily course of

divine providence, in the government of the world, i. e., against the

whole scheme of theism and the whole notion of religion, as against

Christianity. For the world is a constitution, or system, whose parts have

a mutual reference to each other; and there is a scheme of things

gradually carrying on, called the course of nature, to the carrying on of

which God has appointed us, in various ways, to contribute. And when, in

the daily course of natural providence, it is appointed that innocent

people should suffer for the faults of the guilty, this is liable to the

very same objection as the instance we are considering. The infinitely

greater importance of that appointment of Christianity which is objected

against, does not hinder but that it may be, as it plainly is, an

appointment of the very same kind with what the world affords us daily

examples of. Nay, if there were any force at all in the objection, it

would be stronger, in one respect, against natural providence, than

against Christianity; because, under the former, we are in many cases

commanded, and even necessitated, whether we will or no, to suffer for the

faults of others, whereas the sufferings of Christ were voluntary.”

Now, how very unreasonable is it in the theist, to object against

Christianity, that it represents God as having acted upon a particular

principle, i. e., as having appointed the innocent to suffer for the good

of the guilty, when we see that he has everywhere recognised and adopted

the very same principle in the government of the world? However remote

this principle may appear from the conceptions of man, it is not only

found in the volume of inspiration; it is deeply engraven by the finger of

God himself upon every page of the volume of natural providence. And to

question the divine original of revelation, because it contains such a

principle or appointment, while we admit that God created and governs the

world, is about as unreasonable as it would be to deny that a letter came

from a particular person, because it was clearly written in his

hand-writing, and bore evident traces of his peculiarities of style and

thought.

Let us view this general principle in a particular instance. This will set

it in a clear and striking light, and seem to vindicate the constitution

of the world, as well as the doctrine of the atonement. The principle of

compassion has been planted in our bosom by the finger of God. And thus

the necessity is laid upon us, by a law of our nature, to suffer on

account of the distresses which our fellow-men bring upon themselves by

their own crimes and vices; and we are impelled in various ways to undergo

inconvenience and loss, and self-denial and suffering, in order to avert

from them the consequences of their own misconduct. But have we any reason

to complain of this appointment of God? Certainly not: for if we obey the

indications of his will, as seen in this part of the constitution of our

nature, by doing all in our power to relieve the distresses of our

fellow-men, we shall be infinitely more than repaid for all that we may

undergo and suffer. However painful may be the feeling of compassion, we

only have to obey its dictates by relieving the distressed to the utmost

of our ability, and we shall be more than repaid by the satisfaction and

delight which never fail to result from such a course of life; to say

nothing of those infinite rewards which God has prepared for those who

sincerely love and serve him.

Just so it is in relation to the sufferings of Christ. He was led by his

boundless compassion to avert from us the awful consequences of sin, by

the agony, and the sufferings, and the death, which he endured upon the

cross. And, according to the doctrine of atonement, he is infinitely more

than repaid for all this. Though he suffered in the flesh, and was made a

spectacle to men and angels, yet he despised the shame, seeing the joy

that was set before him. We do confess that we can see no insufferable

hardship in all this, nor the least shadow of injustice. One thing is

certain, if injustice is exhibited here, it is exhibited everywhere in the

providence of God; and if the doctrine of the atonement were stricken from

the scheme of Christianity, the injustice which is supposed to attend it

would still continue to overhang and cloud the moral government of God.

And hence, if the deist or the Socinian would escape from this frightful

spectre of his own imagination, he must bury himself in the most profound

depths and most cheerless gloom of atheism.

The doctrine in question is frequently misrepresented, and made to appear

inconsistent with the justice of God, by means of false analogies. The

Socinian frequently speaks of it, as if it were parallel with the

proceeding of a human government that should doom the innocent to suffer

in place of the guilty. Thus the feeling of indignation that is aroused in

the human bosom at the idea of a virtuous man’s being sentenced to suffer

the punishment due to the criminal is sought to be directed against the

doctrine of the atonement. But in vain will such rhetoric be employed to

excite indignation and horror against the doctrine of the cross, in the

mind of any person by whom it is at all understood.

The cases are not at all parallel. In the first place, no human government

has a right to doom a virtuous man to bear the punishment due to the

criminal; and if he were willing to suffer in the place of the culprit, no

government on earth has a right to accept of such a substitute. The life

of the virtuous citizen is the gift of God, and no earthly power has the

authority to take it for any such purpose. It would be a violation of the

will of God for any human government to admit of such a substitution. On

the contrary, Christ had the power to lay down his life; and he did so, in

perfect accordance with the appointment of God. In submitting to the death

of the cross, he did not subvert, he fulfilled the end of his earthly

existence.

Secondly, it would overthrow the ends of public justice for any human

government to permit a good man, the ornament and blessing of society, to

die in the room of the criminal, its scourge and plague. The sufferings of

the good citizen in such a case would be pure and unmitigated evil. While

they would deprive society of his services, they would throw back upon it

the burden of one who deserved to die. They would tend to render the

punishment of crime uncertain; they would shock the moral sentiments of

mankind, and cover with odium and disgrace the government that could

tolerate such a proceeding. But not so in relation to the sufferings of

Christ. He assumed his human nature for the express purpose of dying upon

the cross. He died, not to deliver an individual and turn him loose to

commit further depredations upon society, but to effect the salvation of

the world itself, and to deliver it from all the evils under which it

groans and travails in pain. He died for sinners, not that they might

continue in their sins, but in order to redeem unto himself a peculiar

people zealous of good works.

In the third and last place, the death of a good man is the end of his

existence, the entire extinction of his being, in so far as all human

government is concerned; whereas the death of Christ, in relation to the

government of God, was but the beginning of his exaltation and glory. He

endured the cross, despising the shame, in view of the unbounded joy that

was set before him. The temporal evils which he endured, unutterably great

as they were, if viewed merely in relation to himself, were infinitely

more than counterbalanced by the eternal satisfaction and delight that

resulted from them.

Section III.

The objections of Dr. Channing, and other Unitarians, against the doctrine

of the atonement.

It is likewise objected against the doctrine of the atonement, that it

obscures the freeness and glory of the divine mercy. It is supposed to

interfere with the freeness of the favour of God, inasmuch as it requires

a sacrifice to procure the remission of sin. This point, no less than the

former, the Socinian endeavours to establish by means of analogies drawn

from the ordinary transactions of life. “I know it is said,” says Dr.

Channing, “that Trinitarianism magnifies God’s mercy, because it teaches

that he himself provided the substitute for the guilty. But I reply, that

the work here ascribed to mercy is not the most appropriate, nor the most

fitted to manifest it and impress it on the heart. This may be made

apparent by familiar illustration. Suppose that a creditor, through

compassion to certain debtors, should persuade a benevolent and opulent

man to pay him in their stead; would not the debtors see a greater mercy,

and feel a weightier obligation, if they were to receive a free,

gratuitous release? And will not their chief gratitude stray beyond the

creditor to their benevolent substitute? Or suppose that a parent,

unwilling to inflict a penalty on a disobedient but feeble child, should

persuade a stronger child to bear it; would not the offender see a more

touching mercy in a free forgiveness, springing immediately from a

parent’s heart, than in this circuitous remission?”

If there were any force in such analogies, they would conclude quite as

much against the scheme of Dr. Channing as against ours. For he maintains

that the sinner can obtain forgiveness only by a sincere repentance of his

sins. He teaches that God requires the sinner to humble himself, and take

up his cross and follow Christ. Now to return to the case of the debtor.

Would he not see a greater kindness, “and feel a weightier obligation,” if

he were to receive a free release, without any conditions being imposed

upon him, than if it was accompanied by any terms or conditions?

But the analogy is false. However well it might serve some purposes, it is

misapplied by Dr. Channing. If a creditor is known to love money, as most

men are, and he should nevertheless release his debtors; this would

undoubtedly be an exhibition of his kindness. And we might measure the

extent of his kindness by the amount of the indebtedness which he had

forgiven. But although the creditor, who is the most easily moved by the

necessities of his debtor, may be the most compassionate man, it does not

follow that the governor, who under all circumstances, makes the most free

and unrestrained use of the pardoning power, is the best ruler. The

creditor has a perfect right to release his debtor; and in so doing, he

affects the interest of no one but himself: whereas, by the pardon of

offences against public law, the most sacred rights of the community may

be disregarded, the protection of law may be removed, and the general good

invaded. The penalty of the law does not belong to the supreme executive,

as a debt belongs to the creditor to whom it is due; and hence it cannot

always be abandoned at his pleasure. It is ordained, not merely for the

ruler, but for the benefit and protection of all who are subject to its

control. And hence, although a creditor may show his mercy by releasing

his necessitous debtors; yet the ruler who undertakes to display his mercy

by a free use of the pardoning power, may only betray a weak and yielding

compassion for the individual, instead of manifesting that calm and

enlightened benevolence which labours to secure the foundations of wise

and good government, and thereby to promote the order and happiness of the

governed.

This leads me to remark, that the hope and the theology of the Socinian is

built upon the most inadequate conceptions of the divine mercy. This is

not a weak and yielding thing, as men are so fondly prone to imagine; it

is a universal and inflexible law. The most perfect harmony exists among

all the attributes of God; and as his justice demands the punishment of

the sinner, so also doth his mercy. The bosom of God is not, like that of

frail mortals, torn and distracted by conflicting principles. Even to the

maintenance of his law, that bright transcript of his eternal justice, his

mercy is inviolably pledged. Heaven and earth shall sooner pass away, than

his mercy shall withdraw from the support of one jot or one tittle of it.

It is not only just and holy, and therefore will be maintained with

almighty power; but it is also good, and therefore its immutable

foundations are laid in the everlasting and unchanging mercy of God.

For the universal good, it will be inexorably enforced against the

individual transgressor. God is not slack concerning his promises. He is

free from all human weakness. His mind is not limited, like that of man,

to be more affected by partial suffering than by that universal disorder

and ruin which must inevitably result from the unrequited violation of his

law. The mind of man is unduly affected by the present and the proximate;

but to God there is neither remote nor future. And when, in wisdom and in

goodness, he first established and ordained the law unto life, he saw the

end from the beginning; and he can never sacrifice the universal good by

setting aside that law in order to avoid partial evil. His mercy to the

whole creation makes the same demand as his justice. The execution of

divine justice is, indeed, but a manifestation of that mercy which is over

all his works; and which labours, with omnipotent energy, to secure the

good of all, by vindicating the majesty and glory of that law, upon the

preservation of which inviolate the good of all depends. The fire that is

not quenched is kindled by the boundless love of God no less than by his

justice; and the very fierceness of its burning is, that it is the “wrath

of the Lamb.” Let us not be deceived by the vain fancies and the idle

dreams which our fond wishes and narrow-minded infirmities are so apt to

beget in us. Let us remember that the mercy of God is united with

omniscience; and that it is to be found only in the bosom of Him whose

empire extends to the utmost bounds of the universe, as well as throughout

the endless ages of eternity.

In the genuine spirit of Socinian theology, Dr. Channing, in his

illustration, has set before us the mercy of God alone; and that, too,

merely in relation to the sinner, and not in relation to his law and

government. He entirely overlooks the fact, that it is impossible to

exhibit either the justice or the mercy of God in the most affecting

manner, except in union with each other. It is frequently said, we are

aware, that if God had pardoned the sinner without enforcing the demands

of the law, he would have displayed his mercy alone, and not his justice;

but in fact this would have been a very equivocal display of mercy. It

would have shown only one of two things: either that God regarded the

sinner with an eye of compassion, or that he did not regard his sin:

either that he was merciful, or that he had no great abhorrence of sin:

either that he loved the transgressor, or that he did not hate the

transgression.

To illustrate this point, let us take the case of Zaleucus, the king of

the Locrians. He passed a certain law, with the penalty that every

transgressor of it should lose both his eyes. It so happened that his own

son was the first by whom it was violated. Now, any one can see, that

although Zaleucus had been a hard-hearted and unfeeling tyrant, he might

have pardoned his son, just because he had no regard to the demands of

public justice; or, on the other hand, that he might have inflicted the

penalty of the law upon his son to the uttermost, not out of a supreme

regard to the law, but because he was destitute of mercy and natural

affection. Neither by remitting the whole punishment, nor by inflicting it

with rigour, could he have made such a display of his justice and mercy as

to make a deep moral impression upon his subjects. In other words, if

either of these attributes had been left out in the manifestation, the

display of the other must have been exceedingly feeble and equivocal. Both

must be seen in union, or neither can be seen in the fulness of its glory.

How, then, could Zaleucus have displayed both of these attributes in the

most perfect and affecting manner? By doing precisely that which he is

said to have done. He directed that one of his own eyes should be put out,

and one of his son’s. Whose heart is not touched by this most affecting

display of the tender pity of the father, in union with the stern justice

of the law-giver? His pity would not allow him to inflict the whole

penalty upon his beloved son; and his high regard for the demands of

public justice would not permit him to set at naught the authority of the

law: and but for the possession and manifestation of this last trait of

character, the mighty strugglings and yearnings of the first could not

have burst forth and appeared with such overwhelming power and

transcendent lustre. Hence, every system of redemption which, like that of

the Socinian, leaves out of view the administrative justice of God, does

not admit of any very impressive display of his goodness and his mercy.

All such illustrations must be imperfect, in some respects; but the one

above given conveys a far more adequate view of the atonement than that

presented by Dr. Channing. The application of it is easy. Such was the

mercy of God, that he could not leave his poor fallen creatures to endure

the awful penalty of the law; and such was his regard for the purity and

happiness of the universe, that he could not permit his law to be violated

with impunity. If his administrative justice had not stood in the way, the

offer of pardon to the sinner would have cost him merely a word. And hence

the length, the breadth, and the depth of his love could not have been

manifested. But he was the Ruler of the universe, and as such his law

stood in the way. He owed it to himself not to permit this to be trampled

under foot with impunity, nor its violation to be forgiven, until he had

provided some way in order to secure the high and holy ends for which it

had been established. Hence, as it was not possible for God to deny

himself, he sent forth his beloved Son, who had been the companion of his

bosom and his blessedness from all eternity, to take upon himself the form

of a servant, and by his teaching, and obedience, and sufferings, and

death, to vindicate the majesty of the law, and to render it honourable in

the sight of the universe. And it is this wonderful union of the goodness

and the severity, of the mercy and the justice of God, which constitutes

the grand moral tendency and glory of the cross.

The course pursued by the king of the Locrians, in relation to the crime

of his son, secured the ends of the law in a much greater degree than they

could have been secured by a rigorous execution of its penalty upon the

person of his son. It evinced a deep and settled abhorrence of crime, and

an inflexible determination to punish it. It cut off all hope from his

subjects that crime would be permitted to escape with impunity. And hence,

after such a manifestation of his character as a king, he could permit his

son to enjoy the unspeakable blessings of sight, without holding out the

least encouragement to the commission of crime.

So, likewise, in relation to the sufferings of Christ. These were not, in

strictness, the penalty of the law. This was eternal death; whereas the

sufferings of Christ, inconceivably great as they were, were but temporal;

and there can be no proportion between sufferings which know a period, and

those which are without end. Hence, as we have already said, he did not

satisfy the punitive justice of God. But the sacrifice of Christ answered

all the purposes that could have been answered by the rigorous execution

of the law; and it answered them in an infinitely greater degree, than if

the human race had been permitted to endure it without remedy.

God’s love to his Son was inconceivably greater than that which any

creature ever bore to himself or to any other; and, consequently, by

offering him up as a substitute for guilty mortals, in order that he might

save them without doing violence to his administrative justice, he

manifested the infinite energy of his determination to destroy sin. No

account of the indescribable odiousness and deformity of evil, nor of the

inconceivable holiness of God, could have made so deep an impression of

his implacable abhorrence of sin, as is made by the cross upon which his

Son was permitted to expire amid the scorn and contempt of his enemies.

The human imagination has no power to conceive of a more impressive and

appalling enforcement of the great lesson, “Stand in awe, and sin not,”

than that which is presented to an astonished universe in the cross and

passion of the Son of God.

And besides, it possesses this other unspeakable advantage, that while it

manifests an infinite abhorrence of sin, it displays the most

heart-subduing love of the sinner. If Zaleucus had exhausted the penalty

of the law upon his son, this would have had little or no tendency to

reform his heart, or to induce him to acquiesce in the justness of the

law. It would have been more apt to lead him to regard the king as an

unfeeling father. But when he was made to see, by the manner in which the

king had dispensed the law, that he cherished the warmest feelings of

affection for him, there was no cause left for a murmur on the part of

any, but for the highest admiration on the part of all.

Just so in relation to the sufferings and death of Christ. If God had

exhausted the fearful penalty of the law upon poor, suffering, and

degraded humanity, this would have been well calculated to inspire his

creatures with a servile and trembling awe of him. From their limited and

imperfect views of the evil of sin, and of the reasons why it should be

punished, they would not have been prepared to acquiesce in such

tremendous severity. Thus, one of the great ends of God’s moral government

would have been subverted: the affections of his creatures would have been

estranged from him, through a distrust of his goodness and a dread of his

power, instead of having been drawn to him by the sweet and sacred ties of

confidence and love. But how different is the case now! Having given for

us his beloved Son, who is greater than all things, while we were yet

_enemies_, now that we are _reconciled_ to him, we are most firmly

persuaded that he will freely give us all things that can possibly conduce

to our good. Surely, after such a display of his love, it were highly

criminal in us, to permit the least shadow of suspicion or distrust to

intercept the sweet, and cheering, and purifying beams of his reconciled

countenance. Whatever may be his severity against sin, and whatever terror

it may strike into the conscience of evil-doers, we can most cordially

acquiesce in its justness: for we most clearly perceive, that the penalty

of the law was not established to gratify any private appetite for

revenge, but to uphold and secure the highest happiness of the moral

universe.

Chapter IV.

The Eternal Punishment Of The Wicked Reconciled With The Goodness Of God.

And thus,

Transfigured, with a meek and dreadless awe,

A solemn hush of spirit, he beholds

All things of terrible seeming: yea, unmoved

Views e’en the immitigable ministers,

That shower down vengeance on these latter days.

For even these on wings of healing come,

Yea, kindling with intenser Deity;

From the celestial mercy-seat they speed,

And at the renovating wells of love,

Have fill’d their vials with salutary wrath.—COLERIDGE.

Having considered the sufferings of the innocent, it now becomes necessary

to contemplate the punishment of the guilty, in connexion with the

infinite goodness of God. This conducts us to the consideration of the

most awful subject that ever engaged the attention of a rational

being,—the never-ending torments of the wicked in another world. Though

plausible arguments and objections have been urged against this doctrine,

we are perfectly satisfied they will not bear the test of a close

examination. They have derived all their apparent force and

conclusiveness, it seems to us, from two distinct sources, namely: from

the circumstance that this appalling doctrine has been too often placed,

by its advocates, upon insecure and untenable grounds; and from the fact,

that the supporters of this doctrine have too often maintained principles

from which its fallacy may be clearly inferred. In the defence of this

doctrine, then, we shall endeavour to point out, first, the false grounds

upon which it has been placed; secondly, the unsound principles from which

its fallacy may be inferred; and, thirdly, we shall endeavour to show the

means by which it may be clearly and satisfactorily reconciled with the

goodness of the Supreme Ruler of the world.

Section I.

The false grounds upon which the doctrine of the eternity of future

punishment has been placed.

Nothing could be more untenable, it seems to us, than the usual argument

in favour of future punishments, which seeks to justify their eternity on

the ground that every sinful act, because it is committed against an

infinite being, is infinite, and therefore deserves to be visited with

endless torments. This argument, which seems but little better than a play

on the term _infinite_, is perhaps calculated to make no impression upon

any mind, which is not already fully persuaded of the truth of the

doctrine in question. On the other hand, it may be so easily refuted by a

multitude of considerations, that it exposes the doctrine, in one of its

defences, to the triumphant attacks of its adversaries. We shall not

exhaust the patience of the reader by dwelling upon the refutation which

may be given of such an argument. We shall dismiss it with a single reply,

and that we shall give in the language of John Foster.

“A common argument has been that sin is an _infinite evil_, that is, of

infinite demerit, as an offence against an infinite being; and that, since

a finite creature cannot suffer infinitely _in measure_, he must _in

duration_. But, surely in all reason, the limited, and in the present

instance, _diminutive nature of the criminal_, must be an essential part

of the case for judgment. Every act must, for one of its proportions, be

measured by the nature and condition of the agent: and it would seem that

one principle in that rule of proportion should be, that the offending

agent should be capable of being aware of the magnitude (the _amount_, if

we might use such a word,) of the offence he commits, by being capable of

something like an adequate conception of the being against whom it is

committed. A perverse child, committing an offence against a great

monarch, of whose dignity it _had some_, but a vastly inadequate

apprehension, would not be punished in the same manner as an offender of

high endowments and responsibility, and fully aware of the dignity of the

personage offended. The one would justly be sharply chastised; the other

might as justly be condemned to death. In the present case, the offender

does or may know that the Being offended against is of awful majesty, and

therefore the offence is one of great aggravation, and he will justly be

punished with great severity; but by his extremely contracted and feeble

faculties, as the lowest in the scale of strictly rational and accountable

creatures in the whole creation, he is _infinitely incapable_ of any

adequate conception of the greatness of the Being offended against. He is

then, according to the argument, obnoxious to a punishment not in any

proportion to his own nature, but alone to that infinity of the supreme

nature, which is to him infinitely inconceivable and unknown.”(198)

This answer alone, though perhaps not the best which might be made, we

deem amply sufficient. Indeed, does not the position, that a man, a poor,

weak, fallible creature, deserves an infinite punishment, an eternity of

torments, for each evil thought or word, carry its own refutation along

with it? And if not, what are we to think of that attribute of justice,

which demands an eternity to inflict the infinite pangs due to a single

sin? Is it a quality to inspire the soul with a rational worship, or to

fill it with a horror which casteth out love?

Another argument to show the infinite ill-desert of some men, is drawn

from the _scientia media Dei_. It is said, that if God foresaw that if

they had been placed in various other circumstances, and surrounded by

other temptations, their dispositions and character would have induced

them to commit other sins; for which they are, therefore, as really

responsible as if they had actually committed them. If this be a correct

principle, it is easy, we must admit, to render each individual of the

human race responsible for a greater number of sins than have ever been

committed, or than could ever have been committed by all the actual

dwellers upon the face of the earth. Nay, by such a process of

multiplication, it would be easy to spread the guilt of a single soul over

every point of infinite space, and every moment of eternal duration. But

such a principle is more than questionable. To say nothing of its

intrinsic deformity, it is refuted by the consequences to which it leads.

We want arguments on this subject, that will give the mind, not horrid

caricatures of the divine justice, but such views of that sublime

attribute as will inspire us with sentiments of admiration and love, as

well as with a godly fear and wholesome awe.

Section II.

The unsound principles from which, if true, the fallacy of the eternity of

future punishments may be clearly inferred.

It is a doctrine maintained by Augustine, Calvin, and Luther, as well as

by many of their followers, that, in his fallen state, man “is free to

evil only.” He can do nothing good without the aid of divine grace; and

this, in point of fact, is given to but a very small number of the human

race; at least, efficacious grace is given to but few, so that the greater

part of mankind cannot acquire or possess that holiness without which no

man shall see the Lord. Now, if we take our stand upon this platform of

doctrine, it will be found utterly impossible, we think, to defend the

eternity of future punishments.

It was upon this platform that John Foster erected his tremendous battery

against the doctrine in question; and it is believed, that the more

closely the argument is examined, the more clearly it will be seen, that

he has either demolished the doctrine which was so obnoxious to his

feelings, or else the platform which constituted so essential a part of

his own creed. In our humble opinion, “the moral argument,” as he calls

it, “pressed irresistibly upon his mind;” because it was drawn from false

premises, of whose correctness he seems not to have entertained the shadow

of a doubt. He clung to the conclusion, when he should have abandoned the

premises. But we shall give his own words, and permit the reader to judge

for himself.

After having endeavoured to impress our feeble powers with “the stupendous

idea of eternity,” he adds: “Now think of an infliction of misery

protracted through such a period, and at the end of it being only

_commenced_,—not one smallest step nearer a conclusion,—the case just the

same if that sum of figures were multiplied by itself; and then think of

_man_,—his nature, his situation, the circumstances of his brief sojourn

and trial on earth. Far be it from us to make light of the demerit of sin,

and to remonstrate with the Supreme Judge against a severe chastisement,

of whatever moral nature we may regard the infliction to be. But still,

what is man? He comes into the world with a nature fatally corrupt, and

powerfully tending to actual evil. He comes among a crowd of temptations

adapted to his innate evil propensities. He grows up (incomparably the

greater portion of the race) in great ignorance, his judgment weak, and

under numberless beguilements into error; while his passions and appetites

are strong, his conscience unequally matched against their power,—in the

majority of men, but feebly and rudely constituted. The influence of

whatever good instructions he may receive, is counteracted by a

combination of opposite influences almost constantly acting on him. He is

essentially and inevitably unapt to be powerfully acted on by what is

invisible and future. In addition to all which, there is the intervention

and activity of the great tempter and destroyer. In short, his condition

is such that there is no hope of him, but from a direct, special operation

on him, of what we denominate grace. _Is_ it not so? _Are_ we not

convinced? _Is_ it not the plain doctrine of Scripture? _Is_ there not

irresistible evidence, from a view of the actual condition of the human

world, that no man can become _good_ in the Christian sense,—can become

fit for a holy and happy place hereafter,—but by this operation _ab

extra_? But this is arbitrary and discriminative on the part of the

sovereign Agent, and independent of the will of man. And how awfully

evident is it, that this indispensable operation takes place only on a

comparatively small proportion of the collective race!

“Now this creature, thus constituted and circumstanced, passes a few

fleeting years on earth, a short, sinful course, in which he does often

what, notwithstanding his ignorance and ill-disciplined judgment and

conscience, he knows to be wrong, and neglects what he knows to be his

duty; and, consequently, for a greater or less measure of guilt, widely

different in different offenders, deserves punishment. But ENDLESS

PUNISHMENT! HOPELESS MISERY, _through a duration to which the enormous

terms above imagined will be absolutely_ NOTHING! I acknowledge my

_inability_ (I would say it reverently) _to admit this belief, together

with a belief in the divine goodness_,—the belief that ‘God is love,’ that

his tender mercies are over all his works. Goodness, benevolence, charity,

as ascribed in supreme perfection to him, cannot mean a quality foreign to

all human conceptions of goodness: it must be something analogous in

principle to what himself has defined and required as goodness in his

moral creatures; that, in adoring the divine goodness, we may not be

worshipping an ‘unknown God.’ But, if so, how would all our ideas be

confounded, while contemplating him bringing, of his own sovereign will, a

race of creatures into existence, in such a condition that they certainly

will and _must_—_must_ by their nature and circumstances—go wrong, and be

miserable, unless prevented by especial grace, which is the privilege of

only a small proportion of them, and at the same time affixing on their

delinquency _a doom of which it is infinitely beyond the highest

archangel’s faculty to apprehend a thousandth part of the horror_!”(199)

Now, granting the premises, we hold this argument to be unanswerable and

conclusive. But is it not wonderful that it did not occur to so acute a

mind as Foster’s, that the same premises would furnish a valid argument

against the justice of all punishment, as well as against the justice of

eternal punishments? Surely, if the utter inability of man to do good

without divine grace is any extenuation, when such grace is not given, it

is an entire and perfect exoneration. It is either this, or it is nothing.

Such are the inevitable inconsistencies of the best thinkers, when the

feelings of the heart are at war with the notions of the head. Instead of

analyzing this awful subject, and tracing it down to its fundamental

principles, upon which his reason might have reposed with a calm and

immovable satisfaction, Foster seems to have permitted his great mind to

take root in a creed of man’s devising, and then to be swayed by the gusts

and counter-blasts of passion. Believing that man “must go wrong,” that

nature and circumstances impose this dire necessity upon him, his

benevolence could not contemplate an eternity of torments as due to such

inevitable sin. It was repelled by “the infinite horror of the tenet.” On

the other hand, his abhorrence of evil, and sense of justice, shrank with

equal violence from the idea that all punishment is unjust; and hence he

could say, “Far be it from us to make light of the demerit of sin, and to

remonstrate with the Supreme Judge against a _severe chastisement_.” Thus

did his great mind, instead of resting upon truth, perpetually hang in a

state of suspense and vacillation between the noblest feelings of his

heart and the darkest errors of his creed.

Others, who have adopted the same creed, have endeavoured to extricate

themselves from the dilemma in which Foster found himself, not by denying

the eternity of future punishments, but by inventing a very nice

distinction between the natural and moral inability of man. “He can obey

the law,” say they, “_if he will_;” all that “he wants is the will.” All

his natural faculties are complete; only let him will aright, and he is

safe. But, after all, the question still remains, How is he to get the

will,—the good will,—in order to render him acceptable to God? Does he get

it from nature—is it a part of his birth-right? No: from this he derives a

depraved will, “free to evil only.” Is it vouchsafed to him from above? Is

it a gift from God? Alas! to those who are lost, and perish eternally in

their sins, the grace of God is never given! What does it signify thus to

tell them, or to tell the world, that they have the natural ability to

obey; that none of their natural faculties are lost; that they still have

understandings, and affections, and wills? What can all these avail them?

Is it not the merest mockery to assure them that they really have hearts,

and wills, and feelings, if they “_must_ go wrong,” if they _must_ put

forth the volitions for which they shall be tormented forever?

Upon this distinction we shall not dwell, as we have fully considered it

in our “Examination of Edwards on the Will.” We shall merely add, that it

is not an invention of modern times.(200) It is at least as old as the age

of Augustine. “The Pelagians think,” says he, “they know some great thing,

when they say, ‘_God would not command what he knew could not be done by

man_.’ Who does not know this? But he commands what we cannot do, whereby

we know what we ought to ask of him. For it is faith which obtains by

prayer what the law commands. For true it is that we keep the commandments

_if we will_, (_si volumus_;) but as the will is prepared of the Lord, we

must seek of him that we may will as much as is sufficient, in order to

our doing by volition, (_ut volendo faciamus_.)” Truly, we can keep the

commandments _if we will_ to do so; for, as Augustine immediately says,

“certain it is, that we will when we will.”(201) But no man can put forth

a volition in conformity with the commandments, unless it be given him of

God, who “causes us to will good;”(202) and this is never given to the

reprobate. How, then, can they be justly consigned to eternal torments?

How can they be eternally punished for that which they could not possibly

avoid? It is no wonder that a Foster should have shrunk from “the infinite

horrors of such a tenet,” as seen from this point of view; the only wonder

is, that any one can be found who can possibly endure them.

The same distinction, as we have already said, is relied upon by Edwards

in order to show that man has an ability to obey the law of God.(203)

Thus we are gravely taught that we are able to obey the law of God;

because if we will to do so, the external act will follow; and because it

is certain that _if_ we will we do really will. But _how to will_ is the

question. Can we put forth the requisite volitions? No one doubts that if

we put forth the volition which the law of God requires, we then obey him,

whether the external act follow or not; nor that if we will, then we do

really will. But all this leaves the great question untouched, Can we put

forth the requisite volitions without divine aid? And after this question

has been answered in the negative, and we have been told that such aid is

not given to the reprobate, all this talk about a natural ability, which

must forever prove unavailing, is the merest mockery that ever entered

into the imagination or the metaphysics of man. However the fact may be

disguised by verbal niceties, it as really places eternal life beyond the

reach of the reprobate, as is the very sun in the firmament of heaven, and

makes eternal death as inevitable to them as is the rising and the setting

thereof.

Section III.

The eternity of future punishments an expression of the divine goodness.

We have seen in the first chapter of this part of the present work, that

God really and sincerely intended the salvation of all men; and that if

any are lost, it is because it is impossible in the nature of things to

necessitate holiness; and that the impenitent, in spite of all the means

employed by infinite wisdom and goodness for their salvation, do

obstinately work out their own ruin and destruction. Omnipotence cannot

confer holiness upon them; they do not choose to acquire it; and hence,

they are compelled to endure the awful wages of sin. To those who reject

this view of the nature of holiness, the world in which we live must

forever remain an inexplicable enigma; and that to which we are hastening

must present still more terrific subjects of contemplation. To their minds

the eternal agonies of the lost can never be made to harmonize with the

infinite perfections of God, by whom the second death is appointed. “How

self-evident the proposition,” says Foster, “that if the Sovereign Arbiter

had _intended_ the salvation of the race, it must have been accomplished.”

Having so summarily settled this position, that God did not intend the

salvation of the race, the question which admits of no answer, _Why did he

not intend it?_ might well spread a mysterious darkness over the whole

economy of divine providence. It was that darkness, that perplexing and

confounding darkness, by which the mighty soul of Foster was oppressed

with so many gloomy thoughts, and filled with so many frightful

imaginations.

For our part, if we could believe that God could easily work holiness in

the heart of every creature, and that he does not do so simply because he

does not intend their salvation, we should not have attempted to vindicate

his perfections. We should have believed in them, it is true; but we

should have been constrained to confess, that they are veiled in

impenetrable clouds and darkness. Hence, if we had not confessed ignorance

and inability for all minds and all ages, as so many others have done, we

should, at least, have confessed these things for ourselves, and supinely

waited for the light of eternity to dispel the awful and perplexing

enigmas of time. But we hold no such doctrine; we entertain no such

sentiment. We believe that God, in his infinite, overflowing goodness

desires, and from all eternity has desired, the salvation of all men. We

believe that salvation is impossible to some, because a necessary holiness

is impossible, and they do not choose to work out for themselves what

cannot be worked out for them, even by omnipotence. It was the bright and

cheering light which this truth seemed to cast upon the dark places of the

universe, that first inspired us with the thought and determination to

produce a theodicy. And it is in the light of this truth, if we mistake

not, that the infinite love of God may be seen beaming from the eye of

hell, as well as from the bright regions of eternal blessedness. This

conclusion we shall endeavour methodically to unfold, and to set in a

clear light.

In the first place, then, to begin with our fundamental position, the

Creator could not necessitate the holiness of the creature. Hence this

holiness, after all the means and the ability were given to him, must be

left to the will of the creature himself. All that could be done in such a

case was, for God to set life and death before us, accompanied by the

greatest of all conceivable motives to pursue the one, and to fly from the

other; and then say, “choose ye:” and all this has God actually done for

the salvation of all men. Hence, though some should be finally lost, his

infinite goodness will be clear. Let us see what objections may be urged

against this conclusion.

Supposing it granted, that a necessitated virtue is a contradiction in

terms, and that it is indispensably requisite to ordain rewards and

punishments in order to prevent sin and secure holiness; it may still be

said that the penalty of eternal death is too severe for that purpose, and

is therefore inconsistent with the goodness of God. Indeed, after such a

concession, this is the only position which can be taken in opposition to

the doctrine in question. Let us then look at it, and examine the

assumption upon which it rests for support.

If such punishments be too severe, it must be for one of these two

reasons: either because no object can justify the infliction of them, or

because the end proposed by the Supreme Ruler is not sufficiently great

for that purpose.

Let us suppose, then, in the first place, the position to be assumed, that

no object can possibly justify the infliction of such awful punishments.

Such would be the case, we admit, if such punishments were unjust—were not

deserved by the person upon whom they are inflicted. Hence, it becomes

indispensable, in order to vindicate the divine benevolence, to show that

eternal sufferings are deserved by those upon whom they fall. Otherwise

they would be unjust, and consequently unjustifiable; as the end could

never justify the means.

We say, then, that eternal sufferings are deserved by the finally

impenitent, not because every sinful act carries along with it an infinite

guilt, nor because every sinner may be imagined to have committed an

infinite number of sins, but because they will continue to sin forever. It

will be conceded, that if punishment be admissible at all, it is right and

proper that so long as acts of rebellion are persisted in, the rewards of

iniquity should attend them. It will be conceded, that if the finally

impenitent should continue to sin forever, then they forever deserve to

reap the rewards of sin. But this is one part of the Scripture doctrine of

future punishments, that those who endure them will never cease to sin and

rebel against the authority of God’s law.

Foster has attempted a reply to this defence of the doctrine in question,

but without success. “It is usually alleged,” says he, “that there will be

an endless _continuance_ of sinning ... and therefore the punishment must

be endless.” But “the allegation,” he replies, “is of no avail in

vindication of the doctrine, because the first consignment to this

dreadful state _necessitates a continuance of the criminality_; the

doctrine teaching that it is of the essence, and is an awful aggravation

of the original consignment, that it dooms the condemned to maintain the

criminal spirit unchanged forever. The doom _to sin_ as well as to suffer,

and, according to the argument, to sin _in order_ to suffer, is inflicted

as the punishment of the sin committed in the mortal state. Virtually,

therefore, the eternal punishment is the punishment of the sins of

time.”(204)

Even according to the principles of Foster himself, the argument is wholly

untenable. For he admits, that such is the evil nature of man, such the

circumstances around him, and such the influences of the great tempter, he

must inevitably go wrong; and yet he holds that he may be justly punished

for such transgressions. Now, if every man who comes into the world be

doomed to sin, as this author insists he is, and may be justly punished

for sins committed in this life, why should he be excused for the sins

committed in another state, because he is doomed to commit them? But this

_argumentum ad hominem_ is merely by the way, and has more to do with the

consistency of the author, than with the validity of his position. We

shall proceed to subject this to a more searching and a more, satisfactory

test.

His argument assumes, that “it is of the essence of the original

consignment, that it dooms the condemned to maintain the criminal spirit

unchanged forever.” This is an unwarrantable assumption. We nowhere learn,

and we are nowhere required to believe, that the guilty are doomed to sin

forever, because they have voluntarily sinned in this life; much less that

they are necessitated to sin in order to suffer! The doctrine of the

eternity of future punishments is not necessarily encumbered with any such

ridiculous appendage; and if any one can be found to entertain so absurd a

view of the doctrine, we must leave him to vindicate the creation of his

own imagination.

We do not suppose that the soul of the guilty will continue to sin

forever, because it will be consigned to the regions of the lost; but we

suppose it will be consigned to the regions of the lost, because, by its

own repeated acts of transgression, it has made sure of its eternal

continuance in sinning. God dooms no man to sin—neither by his power nor

by his providence. But it is a fact, against which there will be no

dispute, that if a man commit a sin once, he will be still more apt to

commit the same sin again, under the same or similar circumstances. The

same thing will be true of each and every succeeding repetition of the

offence; until the habit of sinning may be so completely wrought into the

soul, and so firmly fixed there, that nothing can check it in its career

of guilt. Neither the glories of heaven, nor the terrors of hell, may be

sufficient to change its course. No amount of influence brought to bear

upon its feelings, may be sufficient to transform its will. “There is a

certain bound to imprudence and misbehaviour,” says Butler, “which being

transgressed, there remains no place for repentance in the natural course

of things.” And may we not also add, nor in the supernatural course of

things either; and there only remains a certain fearful looking-for of

judgment? As this may be the case, for aught we know, nay, as it seems so

probable that this is the case, no one is authorized to pronounce endless

sufferings unjust, unless he can first show that the object of them has

not brought upon himself an eternal continuance in the practice of sin. In

other words, unless he can first show that the sinner does not doom

himself to an eternity of sinning, he cannot reasonably complain that his

Creator and Judge dooms him to an eternity of suffering.

But it may be said, that although the sinner may deserve to suffer

forever, because he continues to sin forever; yet it were more worthy the

infinite goodness of God, to release him from so awful a calamity. If the

sinner deserves such punishment, it is not only just to inflict it upon

him, it is a demand of infinite goodness itself that it should be

inflicted upon him, provided a sufficiently great good may be attained by

such a manifestation of justice. This brings us to the consideration of

our second point, namely: Is the object proposed to be accomplished by the

infliction of eternal misery sufficiently great to justify the infliction

of so severe a penalty? In other words, Is such a penalty disproportioned

to the exigencies of the case?

In his attempt to show, that the infliction of eternal misery is too

severe to consist with the goodness of God, Mr. Foster does not at all

consider the great ends, or final causes, of penal enactments. He merely

dwells upon the terrors of the punishment, and brings these into vivid

contrast with the weakness and impotency of man in his mortal state. This,

it must be confessed, is a most one-sided and partial view of so profound

a subject; much better adapted to work upon the feelings than to enlighten

the judgment. All that he seems to have seen in the case, is a poor, weak

creature, utterly unable to do any good, subjected to eternal torments for

the sins of “a few fleeting years on earth.” Hence it was, that “the moral

argument,” which “pressed so irresistibly on his mind,” came in “the

stupendous idea of eternity.”

Indeed, according to his theology, there could be no object sufficiently

vast, no necessity sufficiently imperious, to justify eternal punishments.

The prevention of sin, and the promotion of universal holiness, could not

form such an object or constitute such a necessity; for, according to his

creed, all this might have been most perfectly attained by a word. Hence,

he was puzzled and confounded in the contemplation of what appeared to him

so much unnecessary evil. “I acknowledge my _inability_,” said he, “to

admit the belief, (the belief in endless punishment,) together with the

belief in the divine goodness—the belief that ‘God is love,’ that ‘his

tender mercies are over all his works.’ ”

As we have already seen from another point of view, we must come out from

his theology if we would see the harmony and agreement between these

beliefs. We must take our stand on the position, that Omnipotence cannot

necessitate holiness, and must have recourse to rewards and punishments to

secure it. Otherwise all evil and all suffering will remain an

inexplicable enigma; all rewards and punishments awkward and clumsy

contrivances to attain an end, which might be much better attained without

them.

On this high and impregnable ground the moral argument of Foster loses all

its irresistible force, and “the stupendous idea of eternity” presses with

all its weight in favour of endless punishment. If temporal punishments

are justified on the ground that they are necessary to meet the exigencies

and uphold the interests of temporal governments, surely eternal

punishments may be justified on the same ground in relation to an eternal

government. The “stupendous idea of eternity” attaches to the whole, as

well as to the part; and hence nothing can be gained to the cause of

Universalism by the introduction of this idea, except in the minds of

those who take only a one-sided and partial view of the subject.

The spectacle of punishment for a single day, it will be admitted, would

be justified on the ground that it was necessary to support for a single

day a government; especially if that government were vast in extent and

involved stupendous interests. But if suffering for a single day may be

justified on such a ground, then the exigencies of such a government for

two days would justify a punishment for two days; and so on _ad

infinitum_. Hence, the doctrine of eternal punishments in common with the

eternal moral government of God, is not a greater anomaly than temporal

punishments in relation to temporal governments. If we reject the one, we

must also reject the other. Indeed, when we consider not only the eternal

duration, _but also the universal extent_, of the divine government, the

argument in question, if good for anything, presses with greater force

against the little, insignificant governments of men, than against the

moral government of God. One reason why Foster was “repelled into doubt by

the infinite horrors of the tenet” is, that he merely contemplated the

sufferings of the guilty, and saw not how those sufferings were connected

with the majesty and glory of God’s universal and eternal empire. It is as

if an insect should undertake to set bounds to the punishments which human

beings have found necessary to meet the exigencies and uphold the

interests of human society.

We are told by writers on jurisprudence, that penalties should be

proportioned to offences; but, as has been truly said, how this proportion

is to be ascertained, or on what principles it is to be adjusted, we are

seldom informed. We are usually left to vague generalities, which convey

no definite information, and furnish no satisfactory guidance to our

minds. If we can ascertain the precise conditions according to which this

principle should be adjusted, even by goodness itself, we shall then be

the better able to determine whether the eternal suffering of the guilty

and impenitent is not a manifestation of the love of God,—of that _tender

mercy which is over all his works_.

It is a maxim that punishment should be sufficient to accomplish the great

end for which it is imposed, namely, the prevention of offences.

Otherwise, if it failed to accomplish this object, “it would be so much

suffering in waste.”(205) Now, who can say that the penalty of eternal

death is not necessary to this end in the moral government of the

universe, or that it is greater than is necessary for its accomplishment?

Who can say that a punishment for a limited period would have answered

that end in a greater or more desirable degree? Who can say that there

would have been more holiness and happiness, with less sin and misery, in

the universe, if the punishment of those whom nothing could reclaim had

not been eternal? Who can say that it would be better for the universe, on

the whole, if the punishment of sin were limited than if it were eternal?

Until this question, which so evidently lies beyond the range of our

narrow faculties, be answered, it is presumption to object that eternal

punishment is inconsistent with the goodness of God. For aught the

objector knows, this very penalty is demanded by infinite goodness itself,

in order to stay the universal ravages of sin, and preserve the glory of

the moral empire of Jehovah. For aught he knows, the very sufferings of

the lost forever may be, not only a manifestation of the justice of God,

but also a profound expression of that tender mercy which is over all his

works. For aught he knows, this very appointment, at which he takes so

great offence, may be one of the main pillars in the structure of the

intellectual system of the universe; without which its internal

constitution would be radically defective, and its moral government

impossible. In short, for aught he knows, his objection may arise, not

from any undue or unnecessary severity of the punishment in question, but

from his own utter incapacity to decide such a point in relation to the

universal and eternal government of God.

It may be said that this is an appeal to human ignorance, rather than a

reply to the argument of the Universalist. Surely, it is good to be

reminded of our ignorance, when we undertake to base objections against

the doctrines of religion upon assumptions about the truth of which we

know, and, from the nature of the case, must know, absolutely nothing. If

the doctrine in question involved any inherent contradictions, or were it

clearly at war with the dictates of justice, or mercy, or truth, there

might be some reason in our opposition; but to oppose it because we cannot

see how it subserves the highest interests of the universe, seems to be an

exceedingly rash and hasty decision; especially as we see that such a

penalty must powerfully tend to restrain the wickedness of men, as well as

to preserve unfallen creatures in their obedience.

It is not at all strange that beings with such faculties as we possess,

limited on all sides, and far more influenced by feeling than by reason,

should be oppressed by the stupendous idea of eternal torments. It

absolutely overwhelms the imagination of poor, short-sighted creatures

like ourselves. But God, in his plans for the universe and for eternity,

takes no counsel of human weakness; and that which seems so terrible to

our feeble intellects may, to his all-seeing eye, appear no more than a

dark speck in a boundless realm of light. Surely, if there ever was, or

ever could be, a question which should be reduced to the simple inquiry,

“What saith the Scripture?” it is that respecting the future condition of

the wicked.

It is truly amazing that a mind like Foster’s should have put this inquiry

so easily aside, and relied with so much confidence upon what he was

pleased to call “the moral argument.” This argument, as we have seen, is

altogether unsound and sophistical. It bases itself upon the prejudices of

a creed, and terminates in dark conjectures merely. He hopes, or rather he

“would wish to indulge the hope, founded upon the divine attribute of

infinite benevolence, that there will be a period somewhere in the endless

futurity, when all God’s sinning creatures will be restored by him to

rectitude and happiness.” Vain hope! delusive wish! How can they be made

holy without their own consent and coöperation? And if they could be

restored to rectitude and happiness, how can we hope that God would

restore them, since he has not been pleased to preserve them in their

original state of rectitude and happiness?

But perhaps, says he, there will be, not a restoration of all God’s

sinning creatures to rectitude and happiness, but an annihilation of their

existence. Even this conjecture, if true, “would be a prodigious relief;”

for “the grand object of interest is a negation of the perpetuity of

misery.” Suppose, then, that the universe had been planned according to

this benevolent wish of Mr. Foster, and that those who could not be

reclaimed should, after a very protracted period of suffering, be forever

annihilated; would this promote the order and well-being of the whole

creation? How did Mr. Foster know but that such a provision in the

government of the universe would oppose so feeble a barrier to the

progress of sin, that scenes of mutability, and change, and ruin, would be

introduced into the empire of God, from which his benevolence would shrink

with infinite abhorrence? How did Mr. Foster know but that the Divine

Benevolence itself would prefer a hell in one part of his dominions, to

the universal disorder, confusion, and moral desolation which such a

provision might introduce into the government of God? Such a conjecture

might, it is true, bring a “prodigious relief” to our imagination; but the

government of God is intended for the relief of the universe, and not for

the relief of our imagination.

Others besides the author in question have sought relief for their minds

on this subject, by indulging in vague conjectures respecting the real

design of the Supreme Ruler and Judge. Archbishop Tillotson, for example,

supposes that although God actually threatened to punish the wicked

eternally, he does not intend, and is not bound, to carry this threat into

execution. This penalty, he supposes, is merely set forth as a terror to

evil-doers, in order to promote the good order and well-being of the

world; and after it has subserved this purpose, the Lawgiver will

graciously remit a portion of the threatened penalty, and restore all his

sinning creatures to purity and bliss. In reply to this extraordinary

position, we shall only say that if the Almighty really undertook to

deceive the world for its own good, it is a pity he did not take the

precaution to prevent the archbishop from detecting the cheat. It is a

pity, we say, that he did not deceive the archbishop as well as the rest

of men; and not suffer his secret to get into the possession of one who

has so indiscreetly published it to the whole world.

Nothing seems more amazing to us than the haste and precipitancy with

which most men dispose of subjects so awful as that of the eternity of

future punishments. One would suppose that if any subject in the whole

range of human thought should engage our most serious attention, and call

forth the utmost exertion of our power of investigation, it would be the

duration of punishment in a future life. If that punishment be eternal, it

is certainly the most momentous question which ever engaged the attention

of man, and is to be lightly disposed of only by madmen.(206)

Chapter V.

The Dispensation Of The Divine Favours Reconciled With The Goodness Of

God.

O God, whose thunder shakes the sky,

Whose eye this atom globe surveys,

To thee, my only rock, I fly;

_Thy mercy in thy justice praise_.

Then why, my soul, dost thou complain?

Why drooping seek the dark recess?

Shake off the melancholy chain,

_For God created all to bless_.—CHATTERTON.

In the preceding part, we considered the doctrine of predestination, under

the name of necessity, in its relation to the origin of evil. We there

endeavoured to show that it denies the responsibility of man, and makes

God the author of sin. In the present part, it remains for us to examine

the same doctrine in relation to the equality of the divine goodness. If

we mistake not, the scheme of predestination, or rather the doctrine of

election, which lies at its foundation, is, when rightly understood,

perfectly consistent with the impartiality and glory of the goodness of

God. On this subject we shall now proceed to unfold our views in as

orderly and perspicuous a manner as possible.

Section I.

The unequal distribution of favours, which obtains in the economy of

natural providence, consistent with the goodness of God.

It has been thought that if the goodness of God were unlimited and

impartial, the light and blessings of revelation would be universal. But

before we should attach any weight to such an objection, we should first

consider and determine two things.

First, we should consider and determine how far the unequal diffusion of

the light of revelation has resulted from the agency of man, and how far

from the agency of God. For, if this inequality in the spread of a divine

blessing has sprung in any degree from the abuse which free, subordinate

agents have made of their powers, either by active opposition, or passive

neglect, it is in so far no more imputable to a want of goodness in the

Divine Being than is any other evil or disorder which the creature has

introduced into the world. In so far, the glory of God is clear, and man

alone is to blame. It is incumbent upon those, then, who urge this

objection against the goodness of God to show that the evil in question

has not resulted from the agency of man. This position, we imagine, the

objector will not find it very easy to establish; and yet, until he does

so, his objection very clearly rests upon a mere unsupported hypothesis.

Secondly, before we can fairly rely upon the objection in question, we

should be able to show, that the agency of God might have been so exerted

as to spread the light of revelation further than it now extends, without

on the whole causing greater evil than good. Light or knowledge, it should

be remembered, is not in itself a blessing. It may be so, or it may not;

and whether it be a blessing or a curse depends, not upon the beneficence

of the giver, but upon the disposition and character of the recipient.

Before we should presume to indulge the least complaint, then, against the

goodness of divine providence, we should be able to produce the nation,

whose character for moral goodness and virtue would, on the whole, and in

relation to its circumstances, have been improved by the interposition of

God in causing the light of truth to shine in the midst of its

corruptions. But we are manifestly incompetent to deal with a question of

such a nature. Its infinite complication, as well as its stupendous

magnitude, places it entirely beyond the reach of the human mind. So

manifold and so multiform are the hidden causes upon which its solution

depends, that general principles cannot be brought to bear upon it; and

its infinite variety and complication of detail must forever baffle the

intellect of man. Hence, an objection which proceeds on the supposition

that this question has been solved and determined, is worth nothing.

But, for the sake of argument, let us suppose that the unequal diffusion

of religious knowledge has proceeded directly from the agency of God.

Still the objection against his goodness, in regard to the dispensation of

light, would be no greater than in relation to all the dispensations of

his favour. All the gifts of Heaven—health, riches, honour, intelligence,

and whatever else comes down from above—are scattered among the children

of men with the most promiscuous variety. Hence, the unequal distribution

of the blessings of the gospel, or rather of its external advantages, is

so far from being inconsistent with the character of God, that it is of a

piece with all his other dispensations: it is so far from standing out as

an anomaly in the proceedings of the Divine Being, that it falls in with

the whole analogy of nature and of providence. Hence, there is no

resting-place between the abandonment of this objection, and downright

atheism.

Let us see, then, what force there is in this objection, when urged, as it

is by the atheist, against the whole constitution and management of the

world. It proceeds on the supposition, that if light and knowledge, or any

other natural advantage, were bestowed upon one person, it would be

bestowed upon all others, and upon all in precisely the same degree.

According to his view, there should be no such thing as degrees in

knowledge, and consequently no such thing as self-development and

progress. To select only one instance out of many: the atheist objects,

that it is not worthy of infinite wisdom and goodness to provide us with

so complicated an instrument as the eye, as a means of obtaining light and

knowledge. Why could not this end be attained by a more simple and direct

method? Why leave us, for so great a portion of earthly existence, in

comparative ignorance, to grope out our way into regions of light?

In the eye of reason, there is no end to this kind of objecting; and it

only stops where the shallow conceit, or wayward fancy, of the objector is

pleased to terminate. It is very easy to ask, Why a Being of infinite

goodness did not confer light and knowledge upon us directly and at once,

without leaving us to acquire them by the tedious use of the complicated

means provided by his natural providence. But the inquiry does not stop

here. He might just as well ask, Why such a Being was pleased to confer so

small an amount of light upon us, and leave us to acquire more for

ourselves? Why not confer it upon us without measure and without exertion

on our part? The same interrogation, it is evident, may be applied to

every other blessing, as well as to knowledge; and hence the objection of

the atheist, when carried out, terminates in the great difficulty, why God

did not make all creatures alike, and each equal to himself. On the

principle of this objection, the insect should complain that it is not a

man; the man that he is not an angel; and the angel that he is not a god.

Hence, such a principle would exclude from the system of the world

everything like a diversity and subordination of parts; and would reduce

the whole universe, as a system, to as inconceivable a nonentity as would

be a watch, all of whose parts should be made of exactly the same

materials, and possessing precisely the same force and properties.

In every system, whether of nature or of art, there must be a variety and

subordination of parts. Hence, to object that each part is not perfect in

itself, without considering its relations and adaptation to the whole, is

little short of madness. And what heightens the absurdity in the present

case is, that the parts which fall under observation may, for aught we

know, possess the greatest perfection which is consistent with the highest

good and beauty of the whole.

If God has endowed man with the attributes of reason and speech; if he has

scattered around him, with a liberal hand, the multiplied blessings of

life; if, above all, he has made him capable of eternal blessedness, and

of an endless progress in glory; this should warm his heart with the most

glowing gratitude, and tune his tongue to the most exalted praise. And the

man, the rational and immortal being, whose high endowments should lead

him to murmur and repine at the unequal dispensations of the divine

bounty, because God has created beings of a higher order than himself, and

placed them in a world where no cloud is ever seen, and where no sigh is

ever heard, would certainly, to say the very least, be guilty of the most

criminal ingratitude. Reason and conscience might well cry out, Shall the

thing formed say to Him who formed it, Why hast thou made me thus? And God

himself might well demand, Is thine eye evil, because I am good?

The case is not altered, if we suppose that the divine favour is unequally

bestowed upon different individuals of the same species, instead of the

different orders of created beings. The same principle of wisdom and

goodness, as Butler remarks, whatever it may be, which led God to make a

difference between men and angels, may be the same which induces him to

make a difference between one portion of the human family and another—to

leave one portion for a season to the dim twilight of nature, while upon

another he pours out the light of revelation. The same principle, it may

also be, which gives rise to the endless diversity of natural gifts among

the different individuals of the same community, as well as to the

different situations of the same individual, in regard to his temporal and

eternal interests, during the various stages of his earthly existence. And

if this be so, we should either cease to object against the goodness of

God, because the same powers and advantages are not bestowed upon all, or

we should adopt the atheistical principle, in its fullest extent, which

has now been shown to be so full of absurdity.

But although we cannot see the particular reasons of such a diversity of

gifts, or how each is subservient to the good of the whole; yet every

shadow of injustice will disappear, if we consider that God deals with

every one, to use the language of Scripture, “according to what he hath,

and not according to what he hath not.” His bounty overflows, in various

degrees, upon his creatures; but his justice equalizes all, by requiring

every one to give an account of just exactly as many talents as have been

committed to his charge, and no more.

In this respect, all the dispensations of divine providence are clearly

and broadly distinguished from the Calvinistic scheme of election and

reprobation. According to this scheme, the reprobate, or those who are not

objects of the divine mercy, have not, and never had, the ability to obey

the law of God; and yet they are condemned to eternal death for their

failure to obey it. This is to deal with them, not according to what they

have, but according to what they have not, and what they could not

possibly have. Hence, to reason from one of these cases to the other, from

the inequality of gifts and talents ordained by God to a scheme of

election and reprobation, as Calvinists uniformly do, is to confound all

our notions of just dealing, and to convert the rightful sovereignty of

God into frightful tyranny. The perfect justice of this remark will, we

trust, be made to appear the more clearly and fully in the course of the

following section of the present work.

Section II.

The Scripture doctrine of election consistent with the impartiality of the

divine goodness.

We have seen that the election of a nation to the enjoyment of certain

external advantages, or the bestowment of superior gifts upon some

individuals, is not inconsistent with the perfection of the divine

goodness. Beyond the distinctions thus indicated, and which so clearly

obtain in the natural providence of God, it is believed that the

Scriptural scheme of election does not go; and that the more rigid

features of the Calvinistic scheme of election and reprobation can be

deduced from revelation only by a violent wresting and straining of the

clear word of God. Let us see if this assertion may not be fully

established.

The ninth chapter of the Epistle to the Romans, it is well known, is the

portion of Scripture upon which the advocates of that scheme have chiefly

relied, from Augustine down to Calvin, and from Calvin down to the present

day. But, to any impartial mind, we believe, this chapter will not be

found to lend the least shadow of support to any such scheme of doctrine.

We assume this position advisedly, and shall proceed to give the reasons

on which it is based.

Now, in the interpretation of any instrument of writing, it is a

universally admitted rule, that it should be construed with reference to

the subject of which it treats. What, then, is the subject of which the

apostle treats in the ninth chapter of Romans? In regard to this point

there is no dispute; and, to avoid all appearance of controversy in

relation to it, we shall state the design of the apostle, in this part of

his discourse, in the words of one by whom the Calvinistic scheme of

election is maintained. “With the eighth chapter,” says Professor Hodge,

in his Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans, “the discussion of the

plan of salvation, and its immediate consequences, was brought to a close.

The consideration of the calling of the Gentiles, and the rejection of the

Jews, commences with the ninth, and extends to the end of the eleventh.”

Thus, according to the author, “the subject which the apostle had in

view,” in the ninth chapter, is “the rejection of the Jews, and the

calling of the Gentiles.” Now, if this be his subject, and if the

discussion of the plan of salvation was brought to a close in the eighth

chapter, how can the doctrine of election and reprobation, which lies at

the very foundation of, and gives both shape and colouring to, the whole

scheme of salvation, as maintained by Calvinists, be found in the ninth

chapter? How has it happened that such important lights have been thrown

upon the plan of salvation, and such fundamental positions established in

relation to it, after its discussion has been brought to a close? But this

only by the way; we shall hereafter see how these important lights have

been extracted from the chapter in question.

The precise passage upon which the greatest stress is laid seems to be the

following: “The children being not yet born, neither having done any good

or evil, that the purpose of God, according to election, might stand, not

of works, but of him that calleth; it was said unto her, The elder shall

serve the younger. As it is written, Jacob have I loved, but Esau have I

hated.” Now, the question is, Does this refer to the election of Jacob to

eternal life, and the eternal reprobation of Esau; or, Does it refer to

the selection of the descendants of the former to constitute the visible

people of God on earth? This is the question; and it is one which, we

think, is by no means difficult of solution.

The apostle was in the habit of quoting only a few words of a passage of

the Old Testament, to which he had occasion to refer; and in the present

instance he merely cites the words of the prophecy, “The elder shall serve

the younger.” But, according to the prophecy to which he refers, it was

said to Rebecca, “Two nations are in thy womb, and two manner of people

shall be separated from thy bowels; and the one people shall be stronger

than the other people, and the elder shall serve the younger.” Nothing can

be plainer, we think, than that this prophecy relates to the descendants

of Jacob and Esau, and not to the individuals themselves.

This view of the above passage, if it needed further confirmation, is

corroborated by the fact that Esau did not serve Jacob, and that this part

of the prophecy is true only in relation to his descendants. Thus the

prophecy, when interpreted by its own express words, as well as by the

event, shows that it related to “two nations,” to “two manner of people,”

and not to two individuals.

The argument of St. Paul demands this interpretation. He is not discussing

the plan of salvation. The question before him is not whether some are

elected to eternal life on account of their works or not; and hence, if he

had quoted a _prophecy_(207) from the Old Testament to establish that

position, he would have been guilty of a gross solecism, a _non sequitur_,

as plain as could well be conceived.

For these reasons, we think there can be but little doubt with respect to

the true meaning of the passage in question. And besides, this

construction not only brings the language of the apostle into perfect

conformity with the providence which God is actually seen to exercise over

the world, but also reconciles it with the glory of the divine character.

In regard to the meaning of the terms _loved_ and _hated_, used in the

prophecy under consideration, there can be no doubt that the

interpretation of Professor Hodge is perfectly just. “The meaning is,”

says he, “that God preferred one to the other, or chose one instead of the

other. As this is the idea meant to be expressed, it is evident that in

this case the word _hate_ means to _love less, to regard and treat with

less favour_. Thus in Gen. xxix, 33, Leah says, she was hated by her

husband; while, in the thirtieth verse, the same idea is expressed by

saying, Jacob ‘loved Rachel more than Leah.’ Matt. x, 37. Luke xiv, 26:

‘If any man come to me, and hate not his father and mother,’ &c. John xii,

25.”

No one will object to this explanation. But how will the language, thus

understood, apply to the case of individual election and reprobation, as

maintained by Calvinists? We can see, indeed, how it applies to the

descendants of Esau, who were in many respects placed in less advantageous

circumstances than the posterity of Jacob; but how can God be said to love

the elect more than the reprobate? Can he be said to love the reprobate at

all? If, from all eternity, they have been eternally damned for not

rendering an impossible obedience, should we call this a lesser degree of

love than that which is bestowed upon the elect, or should we call it

hate? It seems, that the commentator feels some repugnance at the idea of

setting apart the individual, before he has “done either good or evil,” as

an object of hate; but not at all at the idea of setting him apart as an

object of eternal and remediless woe!

“It is no doubt true,” says Professor Hodge, “that the prediction

contained in this passage has reference not only to the relative standing

of Jacob and Esau, as individuals, but also to that of their descendants.

It may even be allowed that the latter was principally intended in the

communication to Rebecca. But it is clear: 1. That this distinction

between the two races presupposed and included a distinction between the

individuals. Jacob, made the special heir to his father Isaac, obtained as

an individual the birthright and the blessing; and Esau, as an individual,

was cut off.”

This may all be perfectly true; it is certainly nothing to the purpose. It

is true, that Jacob was made the special heir to his father; but did he

thereby inherit eternal life? The distinction between him and Esau was

undoubtedly a personal favour; the very fact that his descendants would be

so highly blessed, must have been a source of personal satisfaction and

joy, which his less favoured brother did not possess. But was this

birthright and this blessing the fixed and irreversible boon of eternal

life? There is not the least shadow of any such thing in the whole record.

The only blessings, of a personal or individual nature, of which the

account gives us the least intimation, either by express words or by

implication, are like those with which God, in his providence, still

continues to distinguish some individuals from others. They are not the

gift of eternal life, but of certain external and temporal advantages.

Hence they throw no light upon the Calvinistic scheme of election and

reprobation. To make out this scheme, or anything in support of it,

something more must be done than to show that God distinguishes one

nation, or one individual, from another, in the distribution of his

favours. This is conceded on all sides; and has nothing to do with the

point in dispute. It must also be shown, that the particular favour which

he brings home to one by his infinite power, and which he withholds from

another, is neither more nor less than the salvation of the soul. It must

be shown, that the mere will and pleasure of God makes such a distinction

among the souls of men, that while some are invincibly made the heirs of

glory, others are stamped with the seal of eternal death. The inheritance

of Jacob, and the casting off of Esau, were, so far as we can see, very

different from the awful proceeding which is ascribed to God according to

the Calvinistic scheme of election and reprobation.

The same remark is applicable to other attempts to show, that God’s favour

was bestowed upon Jacob, as an individual, in preference to Esau. “As to

the objection,” says Professor Hodge, “that Esau never personally served

Jacob, it is founded on the mere literal sense of the words. Esau did

acknowledge his inferiority to Jacob, and was postponed to him on various

occasions. This is the real spirit of the passage. This prophecy, as is

the case with all similar predictions, has various stages of fulfilment.

The relation between the two brothers during life; the loss of the

birthright blessing and promises on the part of Esau; the temporary

subjugation of his descendants to the Hebrews under David; their final and

complete subjugation under the Maccabees; and especially their exclusion

from the peculiar privileges of the people of God, through all the periods

of their history, are included.” Suppose all this to be true, what

relation has it to the election of some individuals to eternal life, and

the reprobation of others?

We shall not dwell upon other portions of the chapter in question; for, if

the foregoing remarks be just, it will be easy to dispose of every text

which may, at first view, appear to support the Calvinistic doctrine of

election. We shall dismiss the consideration of the ninth chapter of

Romans with an extract from Dr. Macknight, who, although a firm believer

in the Calvinistic view of election and reprobation, does not find any

support for his doctrine in this portion of Scripture. “Although some

passages in this chapter,” says he, “which pious and learned men have

understood of the election and reprobation of individuals, are in the

foregoing illustration interpreted of the election of nations to be the

people of God, and to enjoy the advantage of an external revelation, and

of their losing these honourable distinctions, the reader must not, on

that account, suppose the author rejects the doctrines of the decree and

foreknowledge of God. These doctrines are taught in other passages of

Scripture: see Rom. viii, 29.” Thus this enlightened critic candidly

abandons the ninth chapter of Romans, and seeks support for his

Calvinistic view of the divine decrees elsewhere.

Let us, then, proceed to examine the eighth chapter of Romans, upon which

he relies. The words are as follow: “For whom he did foreknow, he also did

predestinate to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the

first-born among many brethren. Moreover, whom he did predestinate, them

he also called: and whom he called, them he also justified: and whom he

justified, them he also glorified.” We need have no dispute with the

Calvinists respecting the interpretation of these words. If we mistake

not, we may adopt their own construction of them, and yet clearly show

that they lend not the least support to their views of election and

reprobation. “As to _know_,” says Professor Hodge, “is often to _approve_

and _love_, it may express the idea of peculiar affection in the case; or

it may mean to _select_ or _determine upon_.” These two interpretations,

as he truly says, “do not essentially differ. The one is but a

modification of the other.” “The idea, therefore, obviously is, that those

whom God peculiarly loved, and by thus loving, distinguished or selected

from the rest of mankind; or, to express both ideas in one word, those

whom he _elected_ he predestinated, &c.” Thus, according to this

commentator, those whom God elected, he also predestinated, called,

justified, and, finally, glorified.

Now, suppose all this to be admitted, let us consider whether it gives any

support to the Calvinistic creed of election. It teaches that all those

whom God elects shall be ultimately saved; but not one word or one

syllable does it say with respect to the principle or ground of his

election. It tells us that God, in his infinite wisdom, selects one

portion of mankind as the objects of his saving mercy,—the heirs of

eternal glory; but it does not say that this selection, this

_approbation_, this _peculiar love_, is wholly without foundation in the

character or condition of the elect. It tells us that God has numbered the

elect, and written their names in the book of life; but it does not tell

us that, in any case, he has taken precisely such as he has left, or left

precisely such as he has taken. The bare fact of the election is all that

is here disclosed. The reason, or the ground, or the principle, of that

election is not even alluded to; and we are left to gather it either from

other portions of Scripture, or from the eternal dictates of justice and

mercy. Hence, as this passage makes no allusion to the ground or reason of

the divine election, it does not begin to touch the controversy we have

with theologians of the Calvinistic school. Every link in the chain here

presented is perfect, except that which connects its first link, the

election to eternal life, with the unconditional decree of God; and that

link, the only one in controversy, is absolutely wanting. We have no

occasion to break the chain; for it is only to the imagination that it

seems to be unconditionally bound to the throne of the Omnipotent.

As this passage, then, determines nothing with respect to the ground or

reason of election, so we have as much right to affirm, even in the

presence of such language, that God did really foresee a difference where

he has made so great a distinction, as the Calvinists have to suppose that

so great a distinction has been made by a mere arbitrary and capricious

exercise of power. That we have a better reason for this position than our

opponents can produce for theirs, we shall endeavour to show in the

ensuing section.

Section III.

The Calvinistic scheme of election inconsistent with the impartiality and

glory of the divine goodness.

Having seen that the unequal distribution of favours, which obtains in the

wise economy of Providence, distinguishing nation from nation, as well as

individual from individual, is not inconsistent with the perfection of the

divine goodness; and having also seen that the Scripture doctrine of

election makes no other distinctions than those which take place in the

providence of God, and is equally reconcilable with the glory of his

character, we come now to consider the Calvinistic scheme of election and

reprobation. We have shown on what principles the providence of God, which

makes so many distinctions among men, may be vindicated; let us now see on

what principles the Calvinistic scheme of election and reprobation seeks

to justify itself. If we mistake not, this scheme of predestination is as

unlike the providence of God in its principles as it is in the appalling

distinctions which it makes among the subjects of the moral government of

the world.

“Predestination,” says Calvin, “we call the eternal decree of God, by

which he has determined in himself, what he would have to become of every

individual of mankind. For they are not all created with a similar

destiny; but eternal life is foreordained for some, and eternal damnation

for others. Every man, therefore, being created for one or the other of

these ends, we say, he is predestinated either to life or to death.”(208)

Again: “In conformity, therefore, to the clear doctrine of Scripture, we

assert, that by an eternal and immutable counsel, God has once for all

determined, both whom he would admit to salvation and whom he would

condemn to destruction.”(209)

The doctrine of predestination is set forth in the Westminster Confession

of Faith, in the following terms: “By the decree of God, for the

manifestation of his glory, some men and angels are predestinated unto

everlasting life, and others foreordained to everlasting death.”

“These men and angels, thus predestinated and foreordained, are

particularly and unchangeably designed; and their number is so certain and

definite, that it cannot be either increased or diminished.”

“Those of mankind that are predestinated unto life, God, before the

foundation of the world was laid, according to his eternal and immutable

purpose, and the secret counsel and good pleasure of his will, hath chosen

in Christ unto everlasting glory, out of his mere free grace and love,

without any foresight of faith or good works, or perseverance in either of

them, or any other thing in the creature, as conditions or causes moving

him thereunto; and all to the praise of his glorious grace.”

“As God hath appointed the elect unto glory, so hath he, by the eternal

and most free purpose of his will, foreordained all the means thereunto.

Wherefore, they who are elected, being fallen in Adam, are redeemed by

Christ, are effectually called unto faith in Christ by his Spirit working

in due season; are justified, adopted, sanctified, and kept by his power

through faith unto salvation. Neither are any other redeemed by Christ,

effectually called, justified, adopted, sanctified, and saved, but the

elect only.”

“The rest of mankind, God was pleased, according to the unsearchable

counsel of his own will, whereby he extendeth or withholdeth mercy as he

pleaseth, for the glory of his sovereign power over his creatures, to pass

by, and to ordain to dishonour and wrath for their sin, to the praise of

his glorious justice.”

The defenders of this system assume the position, that as “by Adam’s sin

the whole human race became a corrupt mass, and justly subject to eternal

damnation; so that no one can blame God’s righteous decision, if none are

saved from perdition.”(210) Augustine expressly says: “But why faith is

not given to all, need not move the faithful, who believe that by one all

came into condemnation, doubtless the most just; _so that there would be

no just complaining of God, though no one should be freed_.” And again:

“The dominion of death has so far prevailed over men, that the deserved

punishment would drive all headlong into a second death likewise, of which

there is no end, if the undeserved grace of God did not deliver them from

it.”(211) Such is the picture of the divine justice, which the advocates

of predestination have presented, from the time of Augustine, the great

founder of the doctrine, down to the present day. It surely furnishes a

sufficiently dark background on which to display the divine mercy to

advantage.

We are told, however, that we should not judge of the proceeding of God,

according to our notions of justice. This is certainly true, if the divine

justice is fairly represented in the scheme of predestination; for that is

clearly unlike all that is called justice among men. If God can create

countless myriads of beings, who, because they come into the world with a

depraved nature, and “can do nothing but sin,” he regards with such

displeasure, as to leave them without hope and without remedy; and not

only so, but dooms them to eternal misery on account of an unavoidable

continuance in sin; it must be confessed, that we should not presume to

apply our notions of justice to his dealings with the world. They would

more exactly accord with our notions of injustice, cruelty, and

oppression, than with any others of which we are capable of forming any

conception.

But, if we are not to decide according to our notions of justice, how

shall we judge, or form any opinion respecting the equity of the divine

proceeding? Shall we judge according to some notion which we do not

possess, or shall we not judge at all? This last would seem to be the

wiser course; but it is one which the Calvinists themselves will not

permit us to adopt. They tell us, that the predestination of the greater

part of mankind to eternal death is “to the praise of God’s glorious

justice.” But how are we to behold this glorious manifestation of the

divine justice, if we may not view it through any medium known to us, or

contemplate it in any light which may have dawned upon our minds?

Indeed, although the defenders of this doctrine often declare that the

predestination of so many men and angels to eternal misery, displays the

justice of God in all its glory; yet their own writings furnish the most

abundant and conclusive evidence, that they themselves can see no

appearance of justice in such a proceeding. On various occasions they do

not hesitate to tell us, that although they cannot recognise the justice

of such a proceeding, yet they believe it to be just, because it is the

proceeding of God. But how can that be a display of justice to us, which,

according to all our notions, wears the appearance of the most frightful

injustice? Calvin himself admits, that the justice of God, which is

supposed to be so brightly displayed in the predestination of so many

immortal beings to endless woe, is, in reality, therein involved in clouds

and darkness. Yet he does not fail to deduce an argument in its favour

from “the very obscurity which excites such dread.”(212)

It seems clear, that if the divine justice is really displayed in the

punishment of the reprobate, it would have been exhibited on a still more

magnificent scale by the condemnation of the whole human race. For,

according to Calvinism, all were equally deserving of the divine

displeasure, and the saved are distinguished from the lost only by the

election of God. Hence, this scheme shows the justice of God to be

limited, or not displayed on so grand and imposing a scale as it might

have been; that is to say, it shows the justice of God to be less than

infinite. But if such be the justice of God, we certainly should not

complain that it has been limited by his mercy; we should rather rejoice,

indeed, to believe that it had been thereby entirely extinguished.

Notwithstanding the claims of divine justice, all were not reprobated and

doomed to eternal death. A certain portion of mankind are elected and

saved, “to the praise of his glorious grace.” Now, it is conceded by

Calvinists, that “all the circumstances which distinguish the elect from

others are the fruit of their election.”(213) This proposition is deduced

by a Calvinistic divine from the “Westminster Confession of Faith.” It is

also conceded, that if the same grace which is given to the elect, should

be bestowed upon the reprobate, they also would be saved.(214) Why, then,

is it not bestowed? Why this fearful limitation of the divine mercy? Can

the justice of God be manifested only at the expense of his mercy, and his

mercy only at the expense of his justice? Or, is the everlasting mercy of

God, that sublime attribute which constitutes the excellency and glory of

his moral nature, so limited and straitened on all sides, that it merely

selects here and there an object of its favour, while it leaves thousands

and millions, equally within its reach, exposed to the eternal ravages of

the spoiler? If so, then are we bound to conclude, that the mercy of God

is not infinite; that it is not only limited, but also partial and

arbitrary in its operation? But such is not the mercy of God. This is not

a capricious fondness, nor yet an arbitrary dictate of feeling; it is a

uniform and universal rule of goodness.

To select one here and there out of the mass of mankind, while others,

precisely like them in all respects, are left to perish, is not mercy; it

is favouritism. The tyrant may have his favourites as well as others. But

God is not a respecter of persons. If he selects one, as the object of his

saving mercy, he will select all who stand in the like condition;

otherwise, his mercy were no more mercy, but a certain capricious fondness

of feeling, unworthy of an earthly monarch, and much more of the august

Head and Ruler of the moral universe.

These views and feelings are not peculiar to the opponents of Calvinism.

They exist in the bosom of Calvinists themselves; only they are so crushed

beneath a system, that they cannot find that freedom of development, nor

that fulness of utterance, which so rightfully belongs to them, and which

is so essential to their entire healthfulness and beauty.

We shall give only one illustration of the justness of this remark,

although we might produce a hundred. After having endeavoured to vindicate

the mercy of God, as displayed in the scheme of predestination, Dr. Hill

candidly declares: “Still, however, _a cloud hangs over the subject_; and

there is a difficulty in reconciling the mind to a system, which, after

laying this foundation, that special grace is necessary to the production

of human virtue, adopts as its distinguishing tenet this position, that

that grace is denied to many.”(215) Notwithstanding his most elaborate

defence of predestination, he may well say, that “a cloud still hangs over

the subject,” and darkens the mercy of God.

Some of the stereotyped attempts of Calvinists to escape from the cloud

which hangs over their doctrine are too weak to deserve a serious

refutation. We are often asked, for example, if God may not do what he

pleases with his own? Most assuredly he may; but does it please him,

according to the high supralapsarian notion of Calvin, to create myriads

of men and angels, to the end that they may be eternally damned? Does it

please him, according even to the sublapsarian scheme, to leave the great

mass of mankind in the helpless and forlorn condition in which they were

born, without assistance, and then subject them to eternal misery, because

they would not render an obedience beyond their power? Truly, the

sovereign Creator and Ruler of the world may do what he pleases with his

own; but yet we insist, that it is his supremest pleasure to deal with his

creatures according to the eternal principles of justice and mercy.

His power is infinite, we admit, nay, we joyfully believe; but yet it is

not a power which works according to the lawless pleasure of an

unmitigated despot. It moves within a sphere of light and love. God’s

infinite wisdom and goodness superintend and surround all its workings;

otherwise its omnipotent actings would soon carry the goodly frame of the

world, together with all the blessed inhabitants thereof, into a state of

utter confusion and chaotic night; leaving occasion for none, save the

blind idolaters of power, to exclaim, “May he not do what he pleases with

his own?”

We are also told, that “God is under no obligation to his creatures.”

Supposing this to be true, (though true most certainly it is not,) yet

does he not owe it to himself—does he not owe it to the eternal principles

of truth and goodness—does he not owe it to the glory of his own empire

over the world—to deal with his rational and immortal creatures, otherwise

than according to the dark scheme of Calvinistic predestination? Nay, is

it not due to the creature himself, that he should have some little chance

or opportunity to embrace the life which God has set before him? Or, in

default of such opportunity, is it not due to him that he should be exempt

from the wages of the second death?

Confessing the wisdom and justice of predestination, as maintained by

themselves, to be above our comprehension, the Calvinists are accustomed

to remind us of the littleness, the weakness, and the blindness of the

human mind, and how dangerous it is for beings like ourselves to pry into

mysteries. We are aware, indeed, that our faculties are limited on all

sides, and that we are exceedingly prone to assume more than belongs to

us. We are not sure that the human mind, so little and so assuming,

appears to any very great advantage in its advocacy of the Calvinistic

scheme of predestination. This scheme is not only found in the ninth

chapter of Romans, by a strange misapprehension of the whole scope and

design of the apostle’s argument, but, after having based it upon this

misinterpretation of the divine word, its advocates persist in regarding

all opposition to it as an opposition against God. As often as we dispute

the doctrine, they cry out, “Nay, but, O man, who art thou that repliest

against God?”

This rebuke was well administered by St. Paul. He applied it to those who,

understanding his doctrine, did not hesitate to arraign the equity of the

divine proceeding in the election of one nation in preference to another

to constitute the visible Church on earth. This was not only to reply

against God’s word, but also against the manifest arrangements and

dispensations of his providence. But it is not well applied by Calvinists,

unless they possess an infallibility which authorizes them to identify

their interpretation of the word of God with the word itself. It is not

well applied by them, unless they are authorized to put themselves in the

place of God. If they have no right to do this, we must insist upon it

that it is one thing to reply against God, and quite another to reply

against Calvin and his followers.

Section IV.

The true ground and reason of election to eternal life shows it to be

consistent with the infinite goodness of God.

We agree with both Calvinistic and Arminian writers in the position, that

no man is elected to eternal life on account of his merits. Indeed, the

idea that a human being can merit anything, much less eternal life, of

God, is preposterous in the extreme. All his gifts are of pure grace. The

creation of the soul with glorious and immortal powers was an act of pure,

unmixed favour. The duty of loving and serving him, which we are permitted

to enjoy, is an exalted privilege, and should inspire us with gratitude,

instead of begetting the miserable conceit that our service, even when

most perfect, could deserve anything further from God, or establish any

claims upon his justice. This view, which we take to be the true one, as

completely shuts out all occasion of boasting as does the scheme of

election maintained by the Calvinists.

It is objected, that God did not elect individuals to eternal life,

because he foresaw that they would repent and believe; since repentance

and faith themselves are the fruits of election. If this objection have

any force, we are persuaded that it arises from an improper wording, or

presentation, of the truth against which it is directed. We cannot suppose

that God elected any one because he foresaw his good works, so as to make

election to depend upon them, instead of making them to depend upon

election. This does not prevent an individual, however, from having been

elected, because God foresaw from all eternity that the influences

attending upon his election would, by his own voluntary coöperation

therewith, be rendered effectual to his salvation. This is the ground on

which we believe the election of individuals to eternal life to proceed.

Accordingly, we suppose that God never selected, or determined to save,

any one who he foresaw would not yield to the influences of his grace,

provided they should be given. And we also suppose that such is the

overflowing goodness of God, that all were elected by him, and had their

names written in the book of life, who he foresaw would yield to the

influences of his grace, and, by the coöperation therewith, “make their

calling and election sure.” This scheme appears to possess the following

very great advantages:—

1. It does not give such a pervading energy to the operations of divine

grace as to exclude all subordinate moral agency from the world, and

destroy the very foundation of man’s accountability.