"Suppose ye that I am come to give peace on earth? I tell you,
nay, but rather division."--Luke xii. 51.
Such was the account which the Saviour himself gave of a religion whose
promise was hailed by angels as an occasion, not only of "glory to God
in the highest," but of "peace on earth, and good-will to men." The
contradiction between the two passages is so obviously merely of a
verbal nature, that it can perplex only the blind interpreter who
penetrates no further than the letter of the sacred volume. I should
only be giving utterance to your own spontaneous reflections, my
friends, were I to tell you that my text speaks, not of the design, but
of the consequence, of the dissemination of the Gospel; and that it
indicates no more than a prophetic knowledge on the part of Christ of
the diversities of sentiment and feeling which would spring from the
diffusion of his religion. This prophetic knowledge, however, it does
clearly indicate; and this is a fact of no mean importance. The
unbeliever objects to Christianity, and the Roman Catholic to
Protestantism, the endless catalogue of discordant opinions which have
resulted from their prevalence; and to both we are furnished with one
reply. This infinite diversity indicates no failure in our system; it is
not an unexpected effect which startles and alarms us; it was foreseen
by the Author of our religion, and announced by him as the necessary
consequence of the genuine preaching of his Apostles. And though he had
this evil (if such it be) full in view, he did not retreat from the
office he had assumed, nor feel it at variance with his deep and tender
philanthropy, to implant among mankind a faith that should break up
their united mass into a thousand repulsive groups.
He must then have known that his Gospel would carry with it blessings
which this seeming disadvantage would not cancel,--blessings far
surpassing the evils of division,--a peace which no jarrings of
controversy could disturb,--a good-will that could triumph over the
alienations of party. Were it my object, it would be easy to show that
the distribution of the Christian world into sects has achieved
incalculably more good than it has inflicted injury; that the rudest
conflicts of a militant theology are preferable to the hollow peace of
universal thraldom; that the fluctuating surface of human opinion,
with all its restless lights, is a fairer object than its dark and
leaden stagnation; that discussion multiplies the chances of truth,
diffuses the thirst for knowledge, leads forth reason from the mist,
converts prejudice into conviction, and gives to a dead faith a moral
and operative power. It would be easy to show that our religion,
especially since it has issued from the cloister into the light of
day, has accomplished a vast amount of good, with which no controversy
has been able to interfere; that it has imparted nobler sentiments of
duty, given to conscience a more majestic voice, raised the depressed
portions of society; that it has enabled moral refinement to keep pace
with the intellectual advancement of mankind; that it has given
modesty to the sublimest exercise of reason, by erecting towering and
eternal truths beyond whose shadow reason cannot fly. It would be easy
to anticipate the time when the benign principles of Christianity
shall mellow down the ruggedness of party feeling, and extract the
lingering selfishness that poisons discussion with its bitterness;
when the unrestricted and disinterested love of truth shall no longer
be an empty fiction; when the differences between mind and mind will
be but so many converging paths by which mankind, with one heart and
one speed, hasten to the same goal of certainty. But it is not my
object to insist on the advantages of controversy, or to predict its
future triumphs; but rather to warn against some of its dangers, and
to suggest a few thoughts which may throw light on the duties of
Christians in an age so controversial as ours. To me, reflecting on
the principles of the Association at whose anniversary I speak, no
topic seems more appropriate. Our grand uniting principle is, the
rejection of all creeds and human formularies of faith, and a simple
adherence to the sacred volume, as being "able," without comment or
interpretation, "to make wise unto salvation." We think confessions
enough have been tried, and been found wanting; that every such
attempt to produce uniformity is utterly chimerical, and an impotent
rebellion against the laws of the human mind. Believing then that
unanimity is one of the weakest dreams of the visionary and the
fanatic, we expect to see diversity of sentiment among Christians; we
cannot be surprised, and ought not to be displeased, to see the
religious world full of the activity of discussion. But since we agree
to abandon mankind to their divergencies of opinion, it is peculiarly
incumbent on us to consider what new moral aspect society assumes,
when distributed into differing denominations, and what new duties
arise in an age of doctrinal debate.
* * * * *
I. It is the duty of Christians to remember how many are their points
of union.
Is our religion, my friends, a matter of the intellect only,--a mere
mine of inexhaustible speculation? I grant that it is in perfect
unison with the dictates of enlightened reason, and that it
administers the noblest stimulus and worthiest employment to the
faculties of the mind. But are not its ultimate dealings with the
affections? Does it not present to us new objects of love, new scenes
of hope, a new system of desires? Does it not unlock the springs of
human feeling, and pour the full tide of emotion upon the soul? What
else can so melt in penitence, so solemnize with awe, so prostrate in
fear, so enkindle with joy? What else can impart such majestic power
to human will to trample in the dust peril and anguish and
temptation, to conquer the solicitations of self-love, and pursue with
meek inflexibility deserted and solitary ways of duty? For the
greatest triumphs of our faith we must go where it is matched with the
passions of the heart, the impulses of unregulated nature, and see how
it prunes their exuberance, enriches their sterility, purifies their
pollutions, expands their littleness, refines their ruggedness. Now
these influences are common to every form of Christianity; its appeals
to the affections are not uttered in the vocabulary of sectarianism,
but in the universal language of the human heart. Some may prefer to
deck the form of our religion in the gorgeous colors of an imposing
ritual; some may throw round it the ample folds of mystery; others may
love rather the grace of its primitive simplicity; but beneath all
these varieties the same living figure breathes, the same radiant
features smile. Where is the system of Christianity that does not
present to our affections an Infinite Being, who has shadowed forth
his invisible glories in the splendors of the universe, who rolls the
silent wheels of time, whose presence, felt in other worlds, is
secretly shed around each human home, who traces the tear of grief and
lights up the smile of peace, who has an eye on every heart, and
carries on his parental discipline in scenes beyond our vision and
without an end? Where is the system of Christianity which does not
lead us to the Saviour as the image of the invisible God, as the
bright reflection of his character, and the noblest assurance of his
love,--which does not trace to Jesus innumerable moral blessings, and
call us to reverence him for guidance amid the intricacies of duty,
for light in the chamber of grief, for power of endurance amid the
struggles of suffering nature, and prospects of attractive grandeur
beyond the grave? Where is the system of Christianity which does not
cast upon this state the shadow of an eternal tribunal,--which does
not associate with sin the horrors of the outer darkness, and impart
an infinite value to every pure tendency of the soul, by inviting
virtue to a never-ending progression replete with ineffable joy? What
Christian has not enshrined in his memory and his admiration the most
beautiful and touching portions of the volume of our faith? Is there
a Christian parent that can read the invitation of the benevolent
Jesus, "Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not,"
without a heart of love to the Heavenly Teacher, without a purified
conception of that kingdom which infantine docility alone can enter,
without an uplifting of prayer that no rude world may ever brush from
the mind of his child the morning dews of his innocence? Is there a
Christian sister that has not blessed the Divine Teacher, who, himself
touched by the sorrows that he quelled, restored the lost Lazarus to
his weeping and defenceless home? Is there a Christian mother who has
not lingered with the bereaved Mary around the cross, wondered at her
awful sorrows, and thought how in the watches of the night memory
would bring back upon her ear that last appeal, "Woman, behold thy
son"? The tears which flow at passages like these, the admiration with
which they burden the heart, the images of moral loveliness with which
they fill the imagination, are not the exclusive possession of any
sect; they are the unrestricted boon of God to the human soul. In
private, then, we all ponder the same book, gather from it the same
refreshing influence, the same impressions of duty, the same impulses
to prayer. And on our Christian Sabbath, while we tread the threshold
of differing temples, are they not all dedicated to Him "who dwelleth
not in temples made with hands," and regardeth not their trivial
distinctions? While the worshipping multitudes utter a various
language and ill-harmonizing thoughts, are they not addressing a Being
to whom language is but a breath, and human thought but like an
infant's dream, and who looks only to that heart of love that animates
them both? It is an exhilarating thought, that though on that sacred
day Christians may be separated by land and seas, gathered around
myriads of sanctuaries, and speaking in a thousand tongues, their
praises blend like kindred fires as they rise, and burst into the
courts of God, one brilliant flame of incense from the universal
shrine of the human heart.
These, my fellow-Christians, are thoughts which we should cherish, to
convince us how much, amid all our diversities, we have in common; to
show us that the best, the living portion of our faith, is others' as
well as our own; and to soften those strange animosities that embitter
our weak tempers, and enfeeble the heavenly ties that encircle the
whole family of God. If there be any truth in the remark of a
philosopher, that the essence of friendship is to have the same
desires and aversions, how much ground have all Christians for mutual
love! Widely as their speculations may diverge, the great concern of
all is with God, the Infinite Father; with Christ, the commissioned
prophet, the merciful redeemer, the inspired teacher, the perfect
model, the heavenly guide; with eternity, the seat of our deepest and
most permanent interests, the receptacle of our lost friends, the
grave of virtuous sorrow, the home of the tossed and faithful spirit.
No one can live habitually under the influence of these grand and
affecting objects, and turn from them to condescend to the littleness
of a polemical temper. They will impart their own greatness to his
soul, and give him that best of powers,--the power over himself. Such
a one may use the pen of controversy without fear.
* * * * *
II. But I confess that the contemplation of these points of union
would impart little peace to our minds, or serenity to our tempers, if
at the same time we believed that the differences of our faith would
follow us into the eternal future, and determine our condition there.
I therefore observe, in the second place, that, amid all our
controversies, it is of moment that we should remember the moral
innocence of mental error. This principle, my friends, seems to me to
be intimately connected with our right of private judgment. We might
claim for men the privilege of free investigation, and affix no
temporal rewards or punishments to any system; yet this would be but a
worthless boon, if we upheld over any creed the penal menace of
eternity. We should thus only transfer the bribe from men's interests
to their fears; we should push our exclusion from earth, only to give
it a vaster theatre in heaven. As many Christians, not otherwise
disposed to be narrow in their spirit, have some lingering doubts
respecting this primary principle of Christian charity, suffer me to
say a few words with a view to establish the perfect innocence of
mental error. The exclusionist rests the burden of his argument on one
text, which, unhappily for Christian love, has been left somewhat
elliptical in its expression. "He that believeth and is baptized,
shall be saved; he that believeth not, shall be damned." Believeth
what? Transubstantiation, says the Catholic; miraculous conversion,
says the Wesleyan; the vicarious atonement, replies the Calvinist; the
Trinity, says the Athanasian Creed. Every one has an anathema for the
opponent of his favorite tenet; and the still, small voice of charity
is swept away by the conflicting winds of controversy, and dies
unheard. Let us see whether our Heavenly Father will not permit us to
open those gates of mercy which others have so sternly closed.
It is not necessary for our present purpose to inquire what are the
salvation and condemnation of which the passage in question speaks. It
may be conceded without injury to our argument, that they have
reference to the destinies of a future world. Every reader of
Scripture will acknowledge that the unbelief which our Saviour
menaces, is unbelief in his Gospel, as preached by his Apostles, and
confirmed by visible miracles;--it is a rejection of Christianity.
From this it would seem clear, that no form under which the religion
of Christ is professed, however erroneous it may be, can be comprised
within the sentence of condemnation. But the argument of the
exclusionist is this:--My own system is, in my view, the only one that
is identical with the Gospel; therefore I must believe that those who
reject my system are exposed to the penalties annexed to the rejection
of the Gospel. It is surprising that so many should fail to detect the
fallacy of this reasoning. Compare the case which our Saviour is
supposing with that of the man who, in preferring one profession of
Christianity, rejects all others; and you will find that there are two
most momentous points of distinction,--the motive of the rejecter is
different, and the thing rejected is different.
What can be more obvious, than that our Saviour refers to the hearer's
_intentional_ rejection of the Gospel,--a rejection of _his own_
Christianity, not of his neighbor's. When punishment is held forth as
the consequence of any act, is it not always implied that the act must
be intentional? Is it not an understood principle of every law, human
and divine, that a deed of accident and inadvertence is exempted from
the penalties which, were it designed, it would deserve? To condemn
for murder the man who through mistake should administer a poisonous
draught for a restorative, would be as just as to put the erring
believer and the wilful unbeliever on the same level. To charge this
enormous immorality on God, would be the height of impiety. Widely as
the professing Christian may err, remote as his faith may be from the
truth as it is in Jesus, his intent is to believe; he yields his
assent, no less heartily than his wiser brother, to the evidence which
God has placed before him; he only mistakes what it is which that
evidence proves; he reverences, no less than others, the authority
which Jesus claims; but he does not discern all the truths which that
authority establishes. Strange would it be, brethren, if God, who in
all other cases looketh at the heart, should in this look at the
understanding only.
But perhaps it will be urged that the same perversion of mind which
Jesus condemns is displayed by the modern inquirer, who does not
discern in the Gospel the great essentials of Christianity; that his
disbelief in them, in short, is not wholly involuntary. A few words to
this objection.
I admit that faith is a compound result of the will and the
understanding; connected indeed most obviously with the latter, but
determined more remotely by causes having their seat in the former. In
the process of investigation, the last step, of weighing arguments and
making up the mind, is undoubtedly involuntary. When the evidence is
once placed before the inquirer, no energy of will can repel the
conclusion which is forced upon the judgment. When, however, we
perceive that the very same reasoning produces different results on
different persons, that one man is forcibly impressed by an argument
which to another appears weak and worthless, it becomes necessary to
account for these varieties in the effects of evidence. And there can
be no doubt that the perception of truth is very materially influenced
by the moral condition of the mind. How powerful are the arguments in
favor of the Gospel derived from the moral beauty and symmetry of the
system, from the originality and loftiness of our Saviour's character,
from the adaptation of his religion to the wants of the human mind
under all its countless varieties! And yet this species of evidence
will be wholly without effect on those whose minds are destitute of
moral sensibility and refinement. Moreover, it is notorious that the
sanguine are always apt to believe what they hope, the timid what they
fear; and the hopes and fears of conscience will exert this influence
on belief no less than any other. Prejudice which might be conquered,
indolence which ought to be shaken off, passions which blind and
corrupt the judgment, uneasy conscience which alienates the desires
from God, all these may exercise a powerful moral sway over the faith;
and for the influence of these every man is certainly accountable.
But at the same time there is no reason to doubt that God has created
us with intellectual differences which are wholly involuntary, and
which must tend to fix the determinations of the judgment. There are
some men who, from their earliest years, seem incapable of admitting a
truth without double the evidence with which others would be
satisfied. Who then among us is to determine what mind is most
correctly strung? Is the man who admits a proposition on one degree of
evidence to condemn his brother who requires two? And is it credible
that God will accept of none but him whom he has himself placed at the
only true point in the gradation? Impossible! As well might we say
that his heaven is closed against the insane or the deformed.
It appears then, my friends, that belief flows from causes partly
moral, partly intellectual. But can any human eye, I ask, discern in
what proportion they are mingled in any one's faith? Dare you say of
your differing brother, that he differs from a prevailing depravity of
heart, and not from constitutional causes? If not, then is there no
human tribunal to which opinion may be called. We are not forbidden to
love any fellow-creature, however remote his views from ours. As we
are unable to discover how far diversities of sentiment flow from the
will, we are bound to treat them all as if they were entirely
involuntary, and to leave to the Searcher of hearts the award of
approbation or displeasure.
Again, the faith rejected in the case which our Lord condemns, is not
the same that is renounced by the erring Christian. What is the
Christianity, the disbelief of which is pronounced by Jesus to be so
dangerous? Is it the Christianity of Luther, of Calvin, of Arius, of
Wesley? No, but the Christianity of the Apostles, which they were "to
preach to every creature." Now in _this_ all professing Christians
believe; and from it they derive those views which, when once severed
from their origin and entering the province of human reason, so
rapidly diverge from each other. It is in vain to urge that _all_
these systems, contradictory as they are, cannot coincide with
revelation; and that there must, therefore, be some that do not
constitute Christianity. The Gospel itself, considered as a
revelation, bears the same relation to all the rival creeds whose
credit hangs on its authority; like the beam of the balance, which
determines the scale neither way. Let me not be mistaken, my friends.
I mean not to say that all systems of Christian faith are equally
true, or equally accordant with the sacred writings; but that their
relative truth is undetermined by the authority of revelation, and
dependent on the correctness of the reasoning by which they are
deduced from Scripture. All begin with reverencing the Gospel; and
this screens them from our Saviour's condemnation. They then employ
themselves in reasoning on the sacred writings that lie before them;
and if they then separate from each other, it is through the same
fallibility of mind which multiplies opinions on other subjects, and
for which assuredly God will bring no man into judgment. The various
systems of Christian faith are but the diverging streams which flow
from the fountain of living waters: some may take a straighter, others
a more devious way; some may receive a scantier, others a more copious
admixture from a different source; some may roll over a purer, others
over a fouler bed; but _all_ contain the healing current which gushed
from the smitten rock, and all, I doubt not, are bearing onwards to
meet at last in the ocean of eternal rest.
Why then, my brethren, must we be handling terrors which it is not
ours to distribute, and sending forth into the dark these fearful
guesses at judgment? Why must our feeble hand be playing with the
lightning, and letting loose the hurricane? Rather let us imitate God.
Does he brand the heretic with his curse? Does he pour the elements in
fury around his dwelling? Does he set a mark on him, that any one
finding him may slay him? See, the sunshine still smiles upon his
roof; the shower still refreshes his field; the charities and hopes of
life are still poured upon his heart. And cannot we cheer with our
human love the creature whom our Father disdaineth not to bless? Are
we so sinless as to stand apart in our holiness from the being with
whom the Majesty of heaven can condescend to dwell, whom Infinite
Purity stoops to cherish? At least let us wait for the disclosure of
those secret counsels which we dare to scan. It will be time enough to
hate when God condemns, to shun when God driveth away. Be assured, my
brethren, no soul ever perished for too much charity. "Be ye therefore
perfect, as your Father in heaven is perfect."
* * * * *
III. It is the duty of every Christian in an age of controversy to make
an open, undisguised statement of his opinions, and of the evidence
which satisfies him of their truth. How seldom do you see that union of
courage and charity which the spirit of the Gospel should impart! Here
you find one who discovers nothing in the religion of his brethren but
errors to controvert; who cannot perceive any Christianity beyond the
peculiarities of his own creed, and thinks that all the evils of
society are to be traced to the opinions of which he has discerned the
fallacy. There, on the other hand, is one who, without perceiving the
difference between discussion and wrangling, entertains a foolish dread
of all controversy, and, as if the mutual good-will of mankind depended
on their uniformity of faith, suppresses his own views, and melts down
the distinctions which separate them from the views of others. The
enlightened Christian will acknowledge that both these are in the
extreme. Against the exclusive spirit of the former the preceding part
of this discourse may be a sufficient remonstrance; and I will conclude
with a few remarks in reference to the latter. It must be admitted that
the fear of making an open profession of faith is a not unnatural fruit
of the despotism with which society persecutes those who deviate from
its established modes of thinking. A vast machinery of refined
intimidation is prepared, to awe down every rising spirit that seeks to
emerge from the thraldom of authorized custom into the glorious liberty
of the sons of God. The charge of singularity, the smile of wonder, the
sneer of aristocratical derision, the cold recoil of suspicion, and the
open upbraidings of bigotry, are the keen weapons by which the world
hastens to assault the conscientious openness which it ought to hail and
venerate. Assailed by so many enemies, it is little wonder that the weak
and timid should fall into that "fear of man which bringeth a snare";
and that this should often lead them to act where they should keep
aloof, and to be passive where they should act; to speak when they
should be silent, and oftener to be silent when they should speak; to
think within the barriers of established rules, or, when more
convenient, not to think at all. But however natural may be the origin
of this accommodating flexibility in the intolerance of society, it
receives no justification hence; it is utterly incompatible with that
Christian simplicity which is ever the same to men and to God, which
unfolds the character to the view in harmonious proportion, and would
scorn to appear other than it is. It can exist only in the mind that
loves the praise of men more than the praise of God.
I cannot leave this concluding part of my subject, without remembering
that I am animadverting on a fault which has been peculiarly charged
on my own sacred profession. The ministers of the Gospel, it has been
said, the very men who should live under the constant eye of God, have
ever afforded the most signal examples of the fear of man. My
brethren, I confess it with shame: and it is a truth to which I can
never revert without feelings of indignant sorrow. Happily there have
been many noble exceptions, and in this place it is not difficult to
bring many before the view. But the more I read the past records of
the Church, and the more I study its secret history at the present
day, the more painfully strong is my conviction that the ministers of
the Gospel have been the most temporizing class of men. They are the
appointed investigators of sacred truth, employed expressly for the
purpose of opening the treasuries of divine wisdom and knowledge; and
yet from none has society gained fewer accessions of truth and light.
Though stationed by their office between heaven and earth, they have
gathered upon their souls more influences from below than from above;
though ordained to declare the whole counsel of God, they have more
often studied the taste than the wants of their hearers; though
encircled in the discharge of their duties by an arm almighty to
uphold, they too have felt afraid. My beloved friends, I know not how
it appears to others, but to me it seems that in the whole Christian
code there is not a duty of more clear and paramount obligation than
the honest, simple avowal of Christian truth. The first natural
dictate of the mind is to speak what it thinks on any subject of deep
interest and importance; and I am persuaded that a man must
sophisticate his conscience, must fill his judgment with forced
reasoning and false excuses, before he can come to the conclusion that
he had better keep truth to himself. Do you ask me, "What is truth?
Amid the conflicting sentiments of mankind, how is it possible with
confidence to take up any as exclusively just?" I answer, every man's
own convictions to him are truth, to him are Christianity; and that to
conceal them is to act the part of the wicked and slothful servant
who buried his master's talent in the earth. It signifies not that men
may obtain acceptance with God without thinking as you think; God
forbid that I should for a moment doubt that! But do you believe that
truth is better for man than error? Do you believe that they are not
both alike to his mental and moral condition? If so, it is
selfishness, it is sinful exclusion, to wrap yourself up in the
solitary enjoyment of your own convictions. For my part, I see nothing
but hypocrisy in the elaborate attempts which are sometimes put forth,
to make opinions look like popular creeds, by slurring over grand
points of distinction, by pushing forward apparent resemblances, by a
dexterous use of ambiguous phrases, and other arts equally worthy of a
Christian's scorn. Indeed, my fellow-Christians, we ought never to be
content till this great principle has been established,--that, in
obeying the noble law of Christian openness and sincerity, it is not
the business of the human being to calculate consequences _at all_;
that temporal expediency must in no degree enter into the
consideration. God is the author of truth, and he will take care of
its consequences; and I am well satisfied that, let appearances be
what they may, honesty will bring after it nothing but good. Even
suppose that we should be found to be in error: then, the sooner it is
exposed the better; and nothing is so likely to lead to its exposure
as the undisguised publication of its evidence. "Opinion in good men,"
it has been beautifully remarked, "is but knowledge in the making";
and it is by sifting the grounds on which opinions rest, by bringing
them into close comparison, and setting many minds to work upon them,
that truth is at length elicited; and he is no enlightened lover of
truth, who is an enemy to the avowal of opinion. It is to be lamented
that the world has been so successful in circulating the feeling, even
among the well-meaning of mankind, that there can be anything to be
ashamed of in opinion; for hence has arisen an association of fear,
and almost of conscious guilt, with one of the noblest and first
duties of the mind, the duty of thinking for itself. Let the inquirer
and the teacher keep their eye steadily fixed upon the Scriptures,
make it their single object to know and to communicate what they
contain; let them utterly forget that there are any inspectors of
their conduct, any listeners to their words, except God and their own
conscience; and I am satisfied that truth and charity will spread
together, and more union be produced among the now widely dissevered
portions of the Christian world, than any timid mediators, striving to
be all things to all men, will ever be able to effect. The alarmed
reconciler of inconsistencies may seem for a while to be successful;
he may keep together in temporary harmony those dissimilar elements
which more fearless spirits might separate; he may persuade men that
they agree when they are wide as the poles asunder; he may surround
himself by numbers, and multiply the directions in which his immediate
influence extends. On the other hand, the reformer who cannot conceal,
and who dare not pretend, who interprets most strictly the law of
Christian simplicity, may lose many supporters who ought to stand by
him in the hour of trial; he may be looked on with suspicion and
avoided as dangerous; he may be the centre at which a thousand weapons
are directed; he may seem to have been imprudent and premature, and to
have baffled his own cause by his indiscreet openness; he may go down
to the evening termination of his labors, accompanied only by a
faithful few, and cheered by no multitude of approving voices. But
wait till a generation has passed away, and then come and look into
the field occupied by these two laborers. Then you will find it proved
that numbers are not always strength; when gathered together by the
feeble bond of private influence, they are scattered when that
influence is withdrawn. The timid man has left no permanent trace
behind him; he has inspired no courage, provided no security for the
future, and the grass has grown over the road that leads to his
temple. But the man who has not feared to tell the whole truth is
remembered and appealed to by succeeding generations; his name,
pronounced in his lifetime with reproach, becomes a familiar term of
encouragement; his thoughts, his spirit, long survive him, gather
together new and more powerful advocates, and are associated with the
records of imperishable truth.
Finally, the great evil of this disposition is, that it constrains the
natural action of the mind, and produces a weak vacillation of
character which paralyzes every virtuous energy. The grand secret of
human power, my friends, is singleness of purpose; before it, perils,
opposition, and difficulty melt away, and open out a certain pathway
to success. But alas! brethren, our Christianity has not taken from us
the spirit of fear, and given us in its place the spirit of power, and
of love, and of a sound mind. We still put duty to the vote. We shrink
from being singular, even in excellence, forgetting how many things
are customs in heaven which are eccentricities on earth. We fix our
eye, now on the tempting treasures below, then on the half-veiled
glories above; we open our ears, now to the welcome tones of human
praise, then to the accents of God's approving voice; and in the vain
attempt to reconcile opposing claims, we sacrifice our interest in
both worlds. It is melancholy to think what a waste of human activity
has been occasioned by this weakness; how many purposes which, if
concentrated, might have left deep traces of good, have been applied
in opposite directions; how many well-meaning men have laid a
benumbing hand of timidity on their own good deeds, and passed through
life without leaving one permanent impression of their character on
society. It is not want of an ample sphere, it is not poverty of
means, it is not mediocrity of talent, that makes most men so
inefficient in the world; it is a want of singleness of aim. Let them
keep a steady eye fixed on the great ends of existence; let them bear
straight onwards, never stepping aside to consult the deceitful oracle
of human opinion; let them heed no spectators save that heavenly cloud
of witnesses that stand gazing from above; let them go forth into the
struggles of life armed with the assurance, "Fear not, for I am with
you";--and each man will be equal to a thousand; all will give way
before him; he will scatter renovating principles of moral health; he
will draw forth from a multitude of other minds a mighty mass of
kindred and once latent energy; and, having imparted to others
ennobled conceptions of the purposes of life, will enter the unfolded
gates of immortality, breathing already its spirit of sublimity and
joy. Brethren, "how long shall we halt between two opinions?"