CHAPTER V.

Produced by Robert Shimmin, Nigel Blower, Greg Alethoup

and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at

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A

PRACTICAL VIEW

OF THE

PREVAILING RELIGIOUS SYSTEM

OF

PROFESSED CHRISTIANS,

IN THE

HIGHER AND MIDDLE CLASSES

IN THIS

COUNTRY,

CONTRASTED WITH

REAL CHRISTIANITY.

By WILLIAM WILBERFORCE, Esq;

Member of Parliament for the County of York.

Search the Scriptures!---- JOHN, v. 39.

How charming is DIVINE PHILOSOPHY!

Not harsh, and crabbed, as dull Fools suppose,

But Musical as is Apollo's lute,

And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets,

Where no crude surfeit reigns. MILTON.

DUBLIN:

Printed by Robert Dapper,

FOR B. DUGDALE, NO. 6, DAME-STREET.

M.DCC.XCVII.

INTRODUCTION.

It has been, for several years, the earnest wish of the writer of the

following pages to address his countrymen on the important subject of

Religion; but the various duties of his public station, and a

constitution incapable of much labour, have obstructed the execution of

his purpose. Long has he been looking forward to some vacant season, in

which he might devote his whole time and attention to this interesting

service, free from the interruption of all other concerns; and he has

the rather wished for this opportunity of undistracted and mature

reflection, from a desire that what he might send into the world might

thus be rendered less undeserving of the public eye. Meanwhile life is

wearing away, and he daily becomes more and more convinced, that he

might wait in vain for this season of complete vacancy. He must,

therefore, improve such occasional intervals of leisure as may occur to

him in the course of a busy life, and throw himself on the Reader's

indulgence for the pardon of such imperfections, as the opportunity of

undiverted and more mature attention might have enabled him to discover

and correct.

But the plea here suggested is by no means intended as an excuse for the

opinions which he shall express, if they be found mistaken. Here, if he

be in an error, it is however a deliberate error. He would indeed

account himself unpardonable, if he were to intrude his first thoughts

upon the Public on a question of such importance; and he can truly

declare, that what he shall offer will be the result of much reading,

observation, and inquiry, and of long, serious, and repeated

consideration.

It is not improbable that he may be accused of deviating from his proper

line, and of impertinently interfering in the concerns of a Profession

to which he does not belong. If it were necessary, however, to defend

himself against this charge, he might shelter himself under the

authority of many most respectable examples. But surely to such an

accusation it may be sufficient to reply, that it is the duty of every

man to promote the happiness of his fellow-creatures to the utmost of

his power; and that he who thinks he sees many around him, whom he

esteems and loves, labouring under a fatal error, must have a cold

heart, or a most confined notion of benevolence, if he could refrain

from endeavouring to set them right, lest in so doing he should be

accused of stepping out of his proper walk, and expose himself on that

ground to the imputation of officiousness.

But he might also allege as a full justification, not only that Religion

is the business of every one, but that its advancement or decline in any

country is so intimately connected with the temporal interests of

society, as to render it the peculiar concern of a political man; and

that what he may presume to offer on the subject of Religion may perhaps

be perused with less jealousy and more candour, from the very

circumstance of its having been written by a Layman, which must at least

exclude the idea (an idea sometimes illiberally suggested to take off

the effect of the works of Ecclesiastics) that it is prompted by motives

of self-interest, or of professional prejudice.

But if the writer's apology be not found in the work itself, and in his

avowed motive for undertaking it, he would in vain endeavour to satisfy

his readers by any excuses he might assign; therefore, without farther

preamble, he will proceed to the statement and execution of his

purpose.

The main object which he has in view is, not to convince the Sceptic, or

to answer the arguments of persons who avowedly oppose the fundamental

doctrines of our Religion; but to point out the scanty and erroneous

system of the bulk of those who belong to the class of orthodox

Christians, and to contrast their defective scheme with a representation

of what the author apprehends to be real Christianity. Often has it

filled him with deep concern, to observe in this description of persons,

scarcely any distinct knowledge of the real nature and principles of the

religion which they profess. The subject is of infinite importance; let

it not be driven out of our minds by the bustle or dissipations of life.

This present scene, and all its cares and all its gaieties, will soon be

rolled away, and "we must stand before the judgment seat of Christ."

This awful consideration will prompt the writer to express himself with

greater freedom than he should otherwise be disposed to use. This

consideration he trusts, also, will justify his frankness, and will

secure him a serious and patient perusal. But it would be trespassing on

the indulgence of the reader to detain him with introductory remarks.

Let it only be farther premised, that if what shall be stated should to

any appear needlessly austere and rigid, the writer must lay in his

claim not to be condemned, without a fair inquiry whether or not his

statements accord with the language of the sacred writings. To that test

he refers with confidence; and it must be conceded by those who admit

the authority of Scripture (such only he is addressing) that from the

decision of the word of God there can be no appeal.

CONTENTS.

Page

INTRODUCTION. v

CHAP. I.

_Inadequate Conceptions of the Importance of Christianity._ 1

CHAP. II.

_Corruption of Human Nature._ 14

CHAP. III.

_Chief Defects of the Religious System of the bulk of

professed Christians, in what regards our Lord Jesus Christ,

and the Holy Spirit--with a Dissertation concerning the use

of the Passions in Religion._ 43

CHAP. IV.

_On the prevailing inadequate Conceptions concerning the

Nature and the Strictness of Practical Christianity._ 100

CHAP. V.

_On the Excellence of Christianity in certain important

Particulars. Argument which results thence in Proof of its

Divine Origin._ 252

CHAP. VI.

_Brief Inquiry into the present State of Christianity in

this Country, with some of the Causes which have led to its

critical Circumstances. Its Importance to us as a political

Community, and practical Hints for which the foregoing

Considerations give occasion._ 262

CHAP. VII.

_Practical Hints to various Descriptions of Persons._ 305

A PRACTICAL VIEW, &c.

CHAPTER I.

INADEQUATE CONCEPTIONS OF THE IMPORTANCE OF CHRISTIANITY.

_Popular Notions.--Scripture Account.--Ignorance in this Case

criminal.--Two false Maxims exposed._

Before we proceed to the consideration of any particular defects in the

religious system of the bulk of professed Christians, it may be proper

to point out the very inadequate conception which they entertain of the

importance of Christianity in general, of its peculiar nature, and

superior excellence. If we listen to their conversation, virtue is

praised, and vice is censured; piety is perhaps applauded, and

profaneness condemned. So far all is well. But let any one, who would

not be deceived, by these "barren generalities" examine a little more

closely, and he will find, that not to Christianity in particular, but

at best to Religion in general, perhaps to mere Morality, their homage

is intended to be paid. With Christianity, as distinct from these, they

are little acquainted; their views of it have been so cursory and

superficial, that far from discerning its characteristic essence, they

have little more than perceived those exterior circumstances which

distinguish it from other forms of Religion. There are some few facts,

and perhaps some leading doctrines and principles, of which they cannot

be wholly ignorant; but of the consequences, and relations, and

practical uses of these, they have few ideas, or none at all.

Does this seem too strong? View their plan of life and their ordinary

conduct; and not to speak at present of their general inattention to

things of a religious nature, let us ask, wherein can we discern the

points of discrimination between them and professed unbelievers? In an

age wherein it is confessed and lamented that infidelity abounds, do we

observe in them any remarkable care to instruct their children in the

principles of the faith which they profess, and to furnish them with

arguments for the defence of it? They would blush, on their child's

coming out into the world, to think him defective in any branch of that

knowledge, or of those accomplishments which belong to his station in

life, and accordingly these are cultivated with becoming assiduity. But

he is left to collect his religion as he may; the study of Christianity

has formed no part of his education, and his attachment to it (where any

attachment to it exists at all) is, too often, not the preference of

sober reason, but merely the result of early prejudice and groundless

prepossession. He was born in a Christian country, of course he is a

Christian; his father was a member of the church of England, so is he.

When such is the hereditary religion handed down from generation to

generation, it cannot surprise us to observe young men of sense and

spirit beginning to doubt altogether of the truth of the system in which

they have been brought up, and ready to abandon a station which they are

unable to defend. Knowing Christianity chiefly in the difficulties which

it contains, and in the impossibilities which are falsely imputed to it,

they fall perhaps into the company of infidels; and, as might be

expected, they are shaken by frivolous objections and profane cavils,

which, had they been grounded and bottomed in reason and argument, would

have passed by them, "as the idle wind," and scarcely have seemed worthy

of serious notice.

Let us beware before it be too late. No one can say into what discredit

Christianity may hereby grow, at a time when the free and unrestrained

intercourse, subsisting amongst the several ranks and classes of

society, so much favours the general diffusion of the sentiments of the

higher orders. To a similar ignorance is perhaps in no small degree to

be ascribed the success, with which Christianity has been attacked of

late years in a neighbouring country. Had she not been wholly unarmed

for the contest, however she might have been forced from her untenable

posts, and compelled to disembarrass herself from her load of

incumbrances, she never could have been driven altogether out of the

field by her puny assailants, with all their cavils, and gibes, and

sarcasms; for in these consisted the main strength of their petty

artillery. Let us beware, lest we also suffer from a like cause; nor let

it be our crime and our reproach, that in schools, perhaps even in

Colleges, Christianity is almost if not altogether neglected.

It cannot be expected, that they who are so little attentive to this

great object in the education of their children, should be more so in

other parts of their conduct, where less strongly stimulated by

affection, and less obviously loaded with responsibility. They are of

course therefore, little regardful of the state of Christianity in their

own country; and still more indifferent about communicating the light of

divine truth to the nations which "still sit in darkness."

But Religion, it may be replied, is not noisy and ostentatious; it is

modest and private in its nature; it resides in a man's own bosom, and

shuns the observation of the multitude. Be it so.

From the transient and distant view then, which we have been taking of

these unassuming Christians, let us approach a little nearer, and listen

to the unreserved conversation of their confidential hours. Here, if any

where, the interior of the heart is laid open, and we may ascertain the

true principles of their regards and aversions; the scale by which they

measure the good and evil of life. Here, however, you will discover few

or no traces of Christianity. She scarcely finds herself a place amidst

the many objects of their hopes, and fears, and joys, and sorrows.

Grateful, perhaps, (as well indeed they may be grateful) for health, and

talents, and affluence, and other blessings belonging to their persons

and conditions in life, they scarcely reckon in the number this grand

distinguishing mark of the bounty of Providence; or if they mention it

at all, it is noticed coldly and formally, like one of those obsolete

claims to which, though but of small account in the estimate of our

wealth or power, we think it as well to put in our title from

considerations of family decorum or of national usage.

But what more than all the rest establishes the point in question: let

their conversation take a graver turn: here at length their religion,

modest and retired as it is, must be expected to disclose itself; here

however you will look in vain for the religion of Jesus. Their standard

of right and wrong is not the standard of the gospel: they approve and

condemn by a different rule; they advance principles and maintain

opinions altogether opposite to the genius and character of

Christianity. You would fancy yourself rather amongst the followers of

the old philosophy; nor is it easy to guess how any one could satisfy

himself to the contrary, unless, by mentioning the name of some

acknowledged heretic, he should afford them an occasion of demonstrating

their zeal for the religion of their country.

The truth is, their opinions on these subjects are not formed from the

perusal of the word of God. The Bible lies on the shelf unopened; and

they would be wholly ignorant of its contents, except for what they hear

occasionally at church, or for the faint traces which their memories may

still retain of the lessons of their earliest infancy.

How different, nay, in many respects, how contradictory, would be the

two systems of mere morals, of which the one should be formed from the

commonly received maxims of the Christian world, and the other from the

study of the Holy Scriptures! it would be curious to remark in any one,

who had hitherto satisfied himself with the former, the astonishment

which would be excited on his first introduction to the latter. We are

not left here to bare conjecture. This was, in fact, the effect produced

on the mind of a late ingenious writer[1], of whose little work, though

it bears perhaps some marks of his customary love of paradox, we must at

least confess, that it exposes, in a strong point of view, the _poverty_

of that superficial religion which has been above condemned; and that it

every where displays that happy perspicuity, and grace, which so

eminently characterize all the compositions of its author. But after

this willing tribute of commendation, we are reluctantly compelled to

remark, that the work in question discredits the cause which it was

meant to serve, by many crude and extravagant positions; from which no

one can be secure who forms a hasty judgment of a deep and comprehensive

subject, the several bearings and relations of which have been

imperfectly surveyed; and above all, it must be lamented, that it treats

the great question which it professes to discuss, rather as a matter of

mere speculation, than as one wherein our everlasting interests are

involved. Surely the writer's object should have been, to convince his

readers of their guilt still more than of their ignorance, and to leave

them impressed rather with a sense of their danger than of their folly.

It were almost a waste of time to multiply arguments in order to prove

how criminal the voluntary ignorance, of which we have been speaking,

must appear in the sight of God. It must be confessed by all who believe

that we are accountable creatures, and to such only the writer is

addressing himself, that we shall have to answer hereafter to the

Almighty for all the means and occasions we have here enjoyed of

improving ourselves, or of promoting the happiness of others. And if,

when summoned to give an account of our stewardship, we shall be called

upon to answer for the use which we have made of our bodily organs, and

of the means of relieving the wants and necessities of our fellow

creatures; how much more for the exercise of the nobler and more exalted

faculties of our nature, of invention, and judgment, and memory; and for

our employment of all the instruments and opportunities of diligent

application, and serious reflection, and honest decision. And to what

subject might we in all reason be expected to apply more earnestly, than

to that wherein our eternal interests are at issue? When God has of his

goodness vouchsafed to grant us such abundant means of instruction in

that which we are most concerned to know, how great must be the guilt,

and how aweful the punishment of voluntary ignorance!

And why, it may be asked, are we in this pursuit alone to expect

knowledge without inquiry, and success without endeavour? The whole

analogy of nature inculcates on us a different lesson, and our own

judgments in matters of temporal interests and worldly policy confirm

the truth of her suggestions. Bountiful as is the hand of Providence,

its gifts are not so bestowed as to seduce us into indolence, but to

rouse us to exertion; and no one expects to attain to the height of

learning, or arts, or power, or wealth, or military glory, without

vigorous resolution, and strenuous diligence, and steady perseverance.

Yet we expect to be Christians without labour, study, or inquiry. This

is the more preposterous, because Christianity, being a revelation from

God, and not the invention of man, discovering to us new relations, with

their correspondent duties; containing also doctrines, and motives, and

practical principles, and rules, peculiar to itself, and almost as new

in their nature as supreme in their excellence, we cannot reasonably

expect to become proficients in it by the accidental intercourses of

life, as one might learn insensibly the maxims of worldly policy, or a

scheme of mere morals.

The diligent perusal of the Holy Scriptures would discover to us our

past ignorance. We should cease to be deceived by superficial

appearances, and to confound the Gospel of Christ with the systems of

philosophers; we should become impressed with that weighty truth, so

much forgotten, and never to be too strongly insisted on, that

Christianity calls on us, as we value our immortal souls, not merely in

_general_, to be _religious_ and _moral_, but _specially_ to believe the

doctrines, and imbibe the principles, and practise the precepts of

Christ. It might be to run into too great length to confirm this

position beyond dispute by express quotations from Scripture. And (not

to anticipate what belongs more properly to a subsequent part of the

work) it may be sufficient here to remark in general, that Christianity

is always represented in Scripture as the grand, the unparalleled

instance of God's bounty to mankind. It was graciously held forth in the

original promise to our first parents; it was predicted by a long

continued series of prophets; the subject of their prayers, inquiries,

and longing expectations. In a world, which opposed and persecuted them,

it was their source of peace, and hope, and consolation. At length it

approached--the Desire of all Nations--The long expected Star announced

its presence--A multitude of the heavenly host hailed its introduction,

and proclaimed its character; "Glory to God in the highest, on earth

peace, good will towards men." It is every where represented in

scripture by such figures as may most deeply impress on us a sense of

its value; it is spoken of as light from darkness, as release from

prison, as deliverance from captivity, as life from death. "Lord, now

lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy

salvation," was the exclamation with which it was welcomed by the pious

Simeon; and it was universally received and professed among the early

converts with thankfulness and joy. At one time, the communication of it

is promised as a reward; at another, the loss of it is threatened as a

punishment. And, short as is the form of prayer taught us by our blessed

Saviour, the more general extension of the kingdom of Christ constitutes

one of its leading petitions.

With what exalted conceptions of the importance of Christianity ought we

to be filled by such descriptions as these? Yet, in vain have we "line

upon line and precept upon precept."--Thus predicted, thus prayed and

longed for, thus announced and characterized and rejoiced in, this

heavenly treasure poured into our lap in rich abundance we scarce

accept. We turn from it coldly, or at best possess it negligently, as a

thing of no account or estimation. But a due sense of its value would be

assuredly impressed on us by the diligent study of the word of God, that

blessed repository of divine truth and consolation. Thence it is that

we are to learn our obligations and our duty, what we are to believe and

what to practise. And, surely, one would think it could not be required

to press men to the perusal of the sacred volume. Reason dictates,

Revelation commands; "Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the word of

God."--"Search the Scriptures,"--"Be ready to give to every one a reason

of the hope that is in you." Such are the declarations and injunctions

of the inspired writers; injunctions confirmed by commendations of those

who obey the admonition. Yet, is it not undeniable that with the Bible

in our houses, we are ignorant of its contents; and that hence, in a

great measure, it arises, that the bulk of the Christian world know so

little, and mistake so greatly, in what regards the religion which they

profess?

This is not the place for inquiring at large, whence it is that those

who assent to the position, that the Bible is the word of God, and who

profess to rest their hopes on the Christian basis, contentedly

acquiesce in a state of such lamentable ignorance. But it may not be

improper here to touch on two kindred opinions, from which, in the minds

of the more thoughtful and serious, this acquiescence appears to derive

much secret support. The one is, that it signifies little what a man

believes; _look to his practice_. The other (of the same family) _that

sincerity is all in all_. Let a man's opinions and conduct be what they

may, yet, provided he be sincerely convinced that they are right,

however the exigencies of civil society may require him to be dealt with

amongst men, in the sight of God he cannot be criminal.

It would detain us too long fully to set forth the various merits of

these favourite positions, of which it is surely not the smallest

excellence, that they are of unbounded application, comprehending within

their capacious limits, all the errors which have been believed, and

many of the most desperate crimes which have been perpetrated among men.

The former of them is founded altogether on that grossly fallacious

assumption, that a man's opinions will not influence his practice. The

latter proceeds on this groundless supposition, that the Supreme Being

has not afforded us sufficient means of discriminating truth from

falsehood, right from wrong: and it implies, that be a man's opinions or

conduct ever so wild and extravagant, we are to presume, that they are

as much the result of impartial inquiry and honest conviction, as if his

sentiments and actions had been strictly conformable to the rules of

reason and sobriety. Never indeed was there a principle more general in

its use, more sovereign in its potency. How does its beautiful

simplicity also, and compendious brevity, give it rank before the

laborious subtleties of Bellarmine! Clement, and Ravaillac, and other

worthies of a similar stamp, from whose purity of intention the world

has hitherto withheld its due tribute of applause, would here have found

a ready plea; and their injured innocence shall now at length receive

its full though tardy vindication. "These however," it may be replied,

"are excepted cases." Certainly they are cases of which any one who

maintains the opinion in question would be glad to disencumber himself;

because they clearly expose the unsoundness of his principle. But it

will be incumbent on such an one, first to explain with precision why

they are to be exempted from its operation, and this he will find an

impossible task; for sincerity, in its popular sense, so shamefully is

the term misapplied, can be made the criterion of guilt and innocence on

no grounds, which will not equally serve to justify the assassins who

have been instanced. The conclusion cannot be eluded; no man was ever

more fully persuaded of the innocence of any action, than these men

were, that the horrid deed they were about to perpetrate was not lawful

merely, but highly meritorious. Thus Clement and Ravaillac being

unquestionably sincere, they were therefore indubitably innocent. Nay,

the absurdity of this principle might be shewn to be even greater than

what has yet been stated. It would not be going too far to assert, that

whilst it scorns the defence of petty villains, of those who still

retain the sense of good and evil, it holds forth, like some well

frequented sanctuary, a secure asylum to those more finished criminals,

who, from long habits of wickedness, are lost alike to the perception as

to the practice of virtue; and that it selects a seared conscience and a

heart become callous to all moral distinctions as the special objects of

its care. Nor is it only in prophane history that instances like these

are to be found, of persons committing the greatest crimes with a

sincere conviction of the rectitude of their conduct. Scripture will

afford us parallels; and it was surely to guard us against the very

error which we have been now exposing, that our blessed Saviour

forewarned his disciples: "The time cometh, that whosoever killeth you

will think that he doeth God service."

A principle like this must then be abandoned, and the advocates for

sincerity must be compelled to restore this abused term to its genuine

signification, and to acknowledge that it must imply honesty of mind,

and the faithful use of the means of knowledge and of improvement, the

desire of being instructed, humble inquiry, impartial consideration, and

unprejudiced judgment. It is to these we would earnestly call you; to

these (ever to be accompanied with fervent prayers for the divine

blessing) Scripture every where holds forth the most animating promises.

"Ask and ye shall receive, seek and ye shall find, knock and it shall be

opened unto you; Ho! every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters;"

such are the comfortable assurances, such the gracious encouragements to

the truly sincere inquirer. How deep will be our guilt if we slight all

these benevolent offers. "How many prophets and kings have desired to

hear the things that we hear, and have not heard them!" Great indeed are

our opportunities, great also is our responsibility. Let us awaken to a

true sense of our situation. We have every consideration to alarm our

fears, or to animate our industry. How soon may the brightness of our

meridian sun be darkened! Or, should the long suffering of God still

continue to us the mercies which we so much abuse, it will only

aggravate our crime, and in the end enhance our punishment. The time of

reckoning will at length arrive. And when finally summoned to the bar of

God, to give an account of our stewardship, what plea can we have to

urge in our defence, if we remain willingly and obstinately ignorant of

the way which leads to life, with such transcendent means of knowing it,

and such urgent motives to its pursuit?

CHAPTER II.

CORRUPTION OF HUMAN NATURE.

SECT. I.

_Inadequate Conceptions of the Corruption of Human Nature._

After considering the defective notions of the importance of

Christianity _in general_, which prevail among the higher orders of the

Christian world, the particular misconceptions which first come under

our notice respect the corruption and weakness of human nature. This is

a topic on which it is possible that many of those, into whose hands the

present work shall fall, may not have bestowed much attention. If the

case be so, it may be requisite to intreat them to lend a patient and a

serious ear. The subject is of the deepest import. We should not go too

far if we were to assert, that it lies at the very root of all true

Religion, and still more, that it is eminently the basis and ground-work

of Christianity.

So far as the writer has had an opportunity of remarking, the generality

of professed Christians among the higher classes, either altogether

overlook or deny, or at least greatly extenuate the corruption and

weakness here in question. They acknowledge indeed that there is, and

ever has been in the world, a great portion of vice and wickedness; that

mankind have been ever prone to sensuality and selfishness, in

disobedience to the more refined and liberal principles of their nature;

that in all ages and countries, in public and in private life,

innumerable instances have been afforded of oppression, of rapacity, of

cruelty, of fraud, of envy, and of malice. They own that it is too often

in vain that you inform the understanding, and convince the judgment.

They admit that you do not thereby reform the hearts of men. Though they

_know_ their duty, they will not practice it; no not even when you have

forced them to acknowledge that the path of virtue is that also of real

interest, and of solid enjoyment.

These facts are certain; they cannot be disputed; and they are at the

same time so obvious, that one would have thought that the celebrated

apophthegm of the Grecian sage, "the majority are wicked," would

scarcely have established his claim to intellectual superiority.

But though these effects of human depravity are every where acknowledged

and lamented, we must not expect to find them traced to their true

origin.

Causa latet, vis est notissima.

Prepare yourself to hear rather of frailty and infirmity, of petty

transgressions, of occasional failings, of sudden surprisals, and of

such other qualifying terms as may serve to keep out of view the true

source of the evil, and without shocking the understanding, may

administer consolation to the pride of human nature. The bulk of

professed Christians are used to speak of man as of a being, who,

naturally pure, and inclined to all virtue, is sometimes, almost

involuntary, drawn out of the right course, or is overpowered by the

violence of temptation. Vice with them is rather an accidental and

temporary, than a constitutional and habitual distemper; a noxious

plant, which, though found to live and even to thrive in the human mind,

is not the natural growth and production of the soil.

Far different is the humiliating language of Christianity. From it we

learn that man is an apostate creature, fallen from his high original,

degraded in his nature, and depraved in his faculties; indisposed to

good, and disposed to evil; prone to vice, it is natural and easy to

him; disinclined to virtue, it is difficult and laborious; that he is

tainted with sin, not slightly and superficially, but radically and to

the very core. These are truths which, however mortifying to our pride,

one would think (if this very corruption itself did not warp the

judgment) none would be hardy enough to attempt to controvert. I know

not any thing which brings them home so forcibly to my own feelings, as

the consideration of what still remains to us of our primitive dignity,

when contrasted with our present state of moral degradation,

"Into what depth thou seest,

From what height fallen."

Examine first with attention the natural powers and faculties of man!

invention, reason, judgment, memory; a mind "of large discourse,"

"looking before and after," reviewing the past, and thence determining

for the present, and anticipating the future; discerning, collecting,

combining, comparing; capable not merely of apprehending but of admiring

the beauty of moral excellence: with fear and hope to warn and animate;

with joy and sorrow to solace and soften; with love to attach, with

sympathy to harmonize, with courage to attempt, with patience to endure,

and with the power of conscience, that faithful monitor within the

breast, to enforce the conclusions of reason, and direct and regulate

the passions of the soul. Truly we must pronounce him "majestic though

in ruin." "Happy, happy world," would be the exclamation of the

inhabitant of some other planet, on being told of a globe like ours,

peopled with such creatures as these, and abounding with situations and

occasions to call forth the multiplied excellencies of their nature.

"Happy, happy world, with what delight must your great Creator and

Governor witness your conduct, and what large and merited rewards await

you when your term of probation shall have expired.

"I, bone, quo virtus tua te vocat, i pede fausto,

Grandia laturus meritorum praemia."

But we have indulged too long in these delightful speculations; a sad

reverse presents itself on our survey of the _actual_ state of man,

when, from viewing his _natural_ powers, we follow him into _practice_,

and see the uses to which he applies them. Take in the whole of the

prospect, view him in every age, and climate, and nation, in every

condition and period of society. Where now do you discover the

characters of his exalted nature? "How is the gold become dim, and the

fine gold changed?" How is his reason clouded, his affections

perverted; his conscience stupified! How do anger, and envy, and

hatred, and revenge, spring up in his wretched bosom! How is he a slave

to the meanest of his appetites! What fatal propensities does he

discover to evil! What inaptitude to good!

Dwell awhile on the state of the ancient world; not merely on that

benighted part of it where all lay buried in brutish ignorance and

barbarism, but on the seats of civilized and polished nations, on the

empire of taste, and learning, and philosophy: yet in these chosen

regions, with whatever lustre the sun of science poured forth its rays,

the moral darkness was so thick "that it might be felt." Behold their

sottish idolatries, their absurd superstitions, their want of natural

affection, their brutal excesses, their unfeeling oppression, their

savage cruelty! Look not to the illiterate and the vulgar, but to the

learned and refined. Form not your ideas from the conduct of the less

restrained and more licentious; you will turn away with disgust and

shame from the allowed and familiar habits of the decent and the moral.

St. Paul best states the facts, and furnishes the explanation; "because

they did not like to retain God in their knowledge, he gave them over to

a reprobate mind[2]."

Now direct your view to another quarter, to the inhabitants of a new

hemisphere, where the baneful practices and contagious example of the

old world had never travelled. Surely, among these children of nature we

may expect to find those virtuous tendencies, for which we have hitherto

looked in vain. Alas! our search will still be fruitless! They are

represented by the historian of America, whose account is more

favourable than those of some other great authorities, as being a

compound of pride, and indolence, and selfishness, and cunning, and

cruelty[3]; full of a revenge which nothing could satiate, of a ferocity

which nothing could soften; strangers to the most amiable sensibilities

of nature[4]. They appeared incapable of conjugal affection, or parental

fondness, or filial reverence, or social attachments; uniting too with

their state of barbarism, many of the vices and weaknesses of polished

society. Their horrid treatment of captives taken in war, on whose

bodies they feasted, after putting them to death by the most cruel

tortures, is so well known, that we may spare the disgusting recital. No

commendable qualities relieve this gloomy picture, except fortitude, and

perseverance, and zeal for the welfare of their little community; if

this last quality, exercised and directed as it was, can be thought

deserving of commendation.

But you give up the heathen nations as indefensible, and wish rather to

form your estimate of man from a view of countries which have been

blessed with the light of revelation.--True it is, and with joy let us

record the concession, Christianity has set the general tone of morals

much higher than it was ever found in the Pagan world. She has every

where improved the character and multiplied the comforts of society,

particularly to the poor and the weak, whom from the beginning she

professed to take under her special patronage. Like her divine Author,

"who sends his rain on the evil and on the good," she showers down

unnumbered blessings on thousands who profit from her bounty, while they

forget or deny her power, and set at nought her authority. Yet even in

this more favoured situation we shall discover too many lamentable

proofs of the depravity of man. Nay, this depravity will now become even

more apparent and less deniable. For what bars does it not now overleap?

Over what motives is it not now victorious? Consider well the superior

light and advantages which we enjoy, and then appreciate the superior

obligations which are imposed on us. Consider in how many cases our evil

propensities are now kept from breaking forth, by the superior

restraints under which vice is laid among us by positive laws, and by

the amended standard of public opinion; and we may be assisted in

conjecturing what force is to be assigned to these motives, by the

dreadful proofs which have been lately exhibited in a neighbouring

country, that when their influence is withdrawn, the most atrocious

crimes can be perpetrated shamelessly and in the face of day. Consider

then the superior excellence of our moral code, the new principles of

obedience furnished by the gospel, and above all, the awful sanction

which the doctrines and precepts of Christianity derive from the clear

discovery of a future state of retribution, and from the annunciation of

that tremendous day, "when we shall stand before the judgment seat of

Christ." Yet, in spite of all our knowledge thus enforced and pressed

home by this solemn notice, how little has been our progress in virtue?

It has been by no means such as to prevent the adoption, in our days, of

various maxims of antiquity, which, when well considered, too clearly

establish the depravity of man. It may not be amiss to adduce a few

instances in proof of this assertion. It is now no less acknowledged

than heretofore, that prosperity hardens the heart: that unlimited power

is ever abused, instead of being rendered the instrument of diffusing

happiness: that habits of vice grow up of themselves, whilst those of

virtue, if to be obtained at all, are of slow and difficult formation;

that they who draw the finest pictures of virtue, and seem most

enamoured of her charms, are often the least under her influence, and by

the merest trifles are drawn aside from that line of conduct, which they

most strongly and seriously recommend to others, that all this takes

place, though most of the pleasures of vice are to be found with less

alloy in the paths of virtue; whilst at the same time, these paths

afford superior and more exquisite delights, peculiar to themselves, and

are free from the diseases and bitter remorse, at the price of which

vicious gratifications are so often purchased.

It may suffice to touch very slightly on some other arguments, which it

would hardly be right to leave altogether unnoticed: one of these (the

justice of which, however denied by superficial moralists, parents of

strict principles can abundantly testify) may be drawn from the perverse

and froward dispositions perceivable in children, which it is the

business and sometimes the ineffectual attempt of education to reform.

Another may be drawn from the various deceits we are apt to practice on

ourselves, to which no one can be a stranger, who has ever contemplated

the operations of his own mind with serious attention. To the influence

of this species of corruption it has been in a great degree owing, that

Christianity itself has been too often disgraced. It has been turned

into an engine of cruelty, and amidst the bitterness of persecution,

every trace has disappeared of the mild and beneficent spirit of the

religion of Jesus. In what degree must the taint have worked itself into

the frame, and have corrupted the habit, when the most wholesome

nutriment can be thus converted into the deadliest poison! Wishing

always to argue from such premises as are not only really sound, but

from such as cannot even be questioned by those to whom this work is

addressed, little was said in representing the deplorable state of the

Heathen world, respecting their defective and unworthy conceptions in

what regards the Supreme Being, who even then however "left not himself

without witness, but gave them rain and fruitful seasons, filling their

hearts with food and gladness." But surely to any who call themselves

Christians, it may be justly urged as an astonishing instance of human

depravity, that we ourselves, who enjoy the full light of revelation; to

whom God has vouchsafed such clear discoveries of what it concerns us to

know of his being and attributes; who profess to believe "that in him we

live, and move, and have our being;" that to him we owe all the comforts

we here enjoy, and the offer of eternal Glory purchased for us by the

atoning blood of his own Son; ("thanks be to God for his unspeakable

gift,") that we, thus loaded with mercies, should every one of us be

continually chargeable with forgetting his authority, and being

ungrateful for his benefits; with slighting his gracious proposals, or

receiving them at best but heartlessly and coldly.

But to put the question concerning the natural depravity of man to the

severest test: take the best of the human species, the watchful diligent

self-denying Christian, and let _him_ decide the controversy; and that,

not by inferences drawn from the practices of a thoughtless and

dissolute world, but by an appeal to his personal experience. Go with

him into his closet, ask him _his_ opinion of the corruption of the

heart, and he will tell you that he is deeply sensible of its power, for

that he has learned it from much self-observation and long acquaintance

with the workings of his own mind. He will tell you, that every day

strengthens this conviction; yea, that hourly he sees fresh reason to

deplore his want of simplicity in intention, his infirmity of purpose,

his low views, his selfish unworthy desires, his backwardness to set

about his duty, his languor and coldness in performing it: that he

finds himself obliged continually to confess, that he feels within him

two opposite principles, and that "he cannot do the things that he

would." He cries out in the language of the excellent Hooker, "The

little fruit which we have in holiness, it is, God knoweth, corrupt and

unsound: we put no confidence at all in it, we challenge nothing in the

world for it, we dare not call God to reckoning, as if we had him in our

debt books; our continual suit to him is, and must be, to bear with our

infirmities, and pardon our offences."

Such is the moral history, such the condition of man. The figures of the

piece may vary, and the colouring is sometimes of a darker, sometimes of

a lighter hue; but the principles of the composition, the grand

outlines, are every where the same. Wherever we direct our view, we

discover the melancholy proofs of our depravity; whether we look to

ancient or modern times, to barbarous or civilized nations, to the

conduct of the world around us, or to the monitor within the breast;

whether we read, or hear, or act, or think, or feel, the same

humiliating lesson is forced upon us,

Juppiter est quodcunque vides, quocunque moveris.

Now when we look back to the picture which was formerly drawn of the

_natural powers_ of man, and compare this his _actual_ state with that

for which, from a consideration of those powers, he seems to have been

originally calculated, how are we to account for the astonishing

contrast! will frailty or infirmity, or occasional lapses, or sudden

surprisals, or any such qualifying terms, convey an adequate idea of the

nature, or point out the cause of the distemper? How, on any principles

of common reasoning, can we account for it, but by conceiving that man,

since he came out of the hands of his Creator, has contracted a taint,

and that the venom of this subtle poison has been communicated

throughout the race of Adam, every where exhibiting incontestible marks

of its fatal malignity? Hence it has arisen, that the appetites deriving

new strength, and the powers of reason and conscience being weakened,

the latter have feebly and impotently pleaded against those forbidden

indulgences which the former have solicited. Sensual gratifications and

illicit affections have debased our nobler powers, and indisposed our

hearts to the discovery of God, and to the consideration of his

perfections; to a constant willing submission to his authority, and

obedience to his laws. By a repetition of vicious acts, evil habits have

been formed within us, and have rivetted the fetters of sin. Left to the

consequences of our own folly, the understanding has grown darker, and

the heart more obdurate; reason has at length altogether betrayed her

trust, and even conscience herself has aided the delusion, till, instead

of deploring our miserable slavery, we have too often hugged, and even

gloried in our chains.

Such is the general account of the progress of vice, where it is

suffered to attain to its full growth in the human heart. The

circumstances of individuals will be found indeed to differ; the

servitude of some, if it may be allowed us to continue a figure so

exactly descriptive of the case, is more rigorous than that of others,

their bonds more galling, their degradation more complete. Some too (it

will be remembered that we are speaking of the natural state of man,

without taking Christianity into question) have for a while appeared

almost to have escaped from their confinement; but none are altogether

free; all without exception, in a greater or less degree bear about

them, more visible or more concealed, the ignominious marks of their

captivity.

Such on a full and fair investigation must be confessed to be the state

of facts; and how can this be accounted for on any other supposition,

than that of some original taint, some radical principle of corruption?

All other solutions are unsatisfactory, whilst the potent cause which

has been assigned, does abundantly, and can alone sufficiently account

for the effect. Thus then it appears, that the corruption of human

nature is proved by the same mode of reasoning, as has been deemed

conclusive in establishing the existence, and ascertaining the laws of

the principle of gravitation: that the doctrine rests on the same solid

basis as the sublime philosophy of Newton: that it is not a mere

speculation, and therefore an uncertain though perhaps an ingenious

theory, but the sure result of large and actual experiment; deduced from

incontestable facts, and still more fully approving its truth by

harmonizing with the several parts and accounting for the various

phaenomena, jarring otherwise and inexplicable, of the great system of

the universe.

Revelation, however, here comes in, and sustains the fallible

conjectures of our unassisted reason. The Holy Scriptures speak of us as

fallen creatures: in almost every page we shall find something that is

calculated to abate the loftiness and silence the pretensions of man.

"The imagination of man's heart is evil from his youth." "What is man,

that he should be clean? and he which is born of a woman, that he should

be righteous[5]." "How much more abominable and filthy is man, which

drinketh iniquity like water[6]?" "The Lord looked down from heaven upon

the children of men, to see if there were any that did understand, and

seek God. They are all gone aside; they are altogether become filthy:

there is none that doeth good, no not one[7]." "Who can say, I have made

my heart clean, I am pure from my sin[8]?" "The _heart_ is deceitful

above all things, and desperately wicked, who can know it." "Behold, I

was shapen in wickedness, and in sin hath my mother conceived me." "We

were by nature the children of wrath, even as others, fulfilling the

desires of the flesh and of the mind." "O wretched man that I am, who

shall deliver me from the body of this death!"--Passages might be

multiplied upon passages, which speak the same language, and these again

might be illustrated and confirmed at large by various other

considerations, drawn from the same sacred source; such as those which

represent a thorough change, a renovation of our nature, as being

necessary to our becoming true Christians; or as those also which are

suggested by observing that holy men refer their good dispositions and

affections to the immediate agency of the Supreme Being.

SECTION II.

_Evil Spirit.--Natural State of Man._

But in addition to all which has been yet stated, the word of God

instructs us that we have to contend not only with our own natural

depravity, but with the power of darkness, the Evil Spirit, who rules in

the hearts of the wicked, and whose dominion we learn from Scripture to

be so general, as to entitle him to the denomination of "the Prince of

this world." There cannot be a stronger proof of the difference which

exists between the religious system of the Scriptures, and that of the

bulk of nominal Christians, than the proof which is afforded by the

subject now in question. The existence and agency of the Evil Spirit,

though so distinctly and repeatedly affirmed in Scripture, are almost

universally exploded in a country which professes to admit the authority

of the sacred volume. Some other Doctrines of Revelation, the force and

real meaning of which are commonly in a great degree explained away, are

yet conceded in general terms. But this seems almost by universal

consent to have been abandoned, as a post no longer tenable. It is

regarded as an evanescent prejudice, which it would now be a discredit

to any man of understanding to believe. Like ghosts and witches and

other phantoms, which haunted the night of superstition, it cannot in

these more enlightened times stand the test of our severer scrutiny. To

be suffered to pass away quietly, is as much as it can hope for; and it

might rather expect to be laughed off the stage as a just object of

contempt and derision.

But although the Scripture doctrine concerning the Evil Spirit is thus

generally exploded, yet were we to consider the matter seriously and

fairly, we should probably find ground for believing that there is no

better reason for its being abandoned, than that many absurd stories,

concerning spirits and apparitions, have been used to be believed and

propagated amongst weak and credulous people; and that the Evil Spirit

not being the object of our bodily eyes, it would be an instance of the

same weakness to give credit to the doctrine of its existence and

agency. But to be consistent with ourselves, we might almost as well, on

the same principle, deny the reality of all other incorporeal beings.

What is there, in truth, in the doctrine, which is in itself improbable,

or which is not confirmed by analogy? We see, in fact, that there are

wicked men, enemies to God, and malignant towards their fellow

creatures, who take pleasure, and often succeed, in drawing in others to

the commission of evil. Why then should it be deemed incredible, that

there may be one or more spiritual intelligences of similar natures and

propensities, who may in like manner be permitted to tempt men to the

practice of sin? Surely we may retort upon our opponents the charge of

absurdity, and justly accuse them of gross inconsistency, in admitting,

without difficulty, the existence and operation of these qualities in a

material being, and yet denying them in an immaterial one (in direct

contradiction to the authority of Scripture, which they allow to be

conclusive) when they cannot, and will not pretend for a moment, that

there is any thing belonging to the nature of matter, to which these

qualities naturally adhere.

But to dilate no farther on a topic which, however it may excite the

ridicule of the inconsiderate, will suggest matter of furious

apprehension to all who form their opinions on the authority of the word

of God: thus brought as we are into captivity, and exposed to danger;

depraved and weakened within, and tempted from without, it might well

fill our hearts with anxiety to reflect, "that the day will come," when

"the Heavens being on fire shall be dissolved, and the elements shall

melt with fervent heat;" "when the dead, small and great, shall stand

before the tribunal of God;" and we shall have to give account of all

things done in the body. We are naturally prompted to turn over the page

of revelation with solicitude, in order to discover the qualities and

character of our Judge, and the probable principles of his

determination; but this only serves to turn painful apprehension into

fixed and certain terror.--First of the qualities of our Judge. As all

nature bears witness to his irresistible power, so we read in Scripture

that nothing can escape his observation, or elude his discovery; not our

actions only, but our most secret cogitations are open to his view. "He

is about our path and about our bed, and spieth out all our ways[9]."

"The Lord searcheth all hearts, and understandeth all the imaginations

of the thoughts[10]."--"And he will bring to light the hidden things of

darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the heart."

Now, hear his description and character and the rule of his award: "The

Lord our God is a consuming fire, even a jealous God."--"He is of purer

eyes than to behold iniquity."--"The soul that sinneth, it shall

die."--"The wages of sin is death." These positive declarations are

enforced by the accounts which, for our warning, we read in sacred

history, of the terrible vengeance of the Almighty: His punishment "the

angels who kept not their first estate, and whom he hath reserved in

everlasting chains under darkness unto the judgment of the great day:"

The fate of Sodom and Gomorrah; the sentence issued against the

idolatrous nations of Canaan, and of which the execution was assigned to

the Israelites, by the express command of God, at their own peril in

case of disobedience: The ruin of Babylon, and of Tyre, and of Nineveh,

and of Jerusalem, prophetically denounced as the punishment of their

crimes, and taking place in an exact and terrible accordance with the

divine predictions. These are indeed matter of awful perusal, sufficient

surely to confound the fallacious confidence of any who, on the ground

that our Creator must be aware of our natural weakness, and must be of

course disposed to allow for it, should alledge that, though unable

indeed to justify ourselves in the sight of God, we need not give way to

such gloomy apprehensions, but might throw ourselves, with assured hope,

on the infinite benevolence of the Supreme Being. It is indeed true,

that with the threatenings of the word of God, there are mixed many

gracious declarations of pardon, on repentance, and thorough amendment.

But, alas! which of us is there, whose conscience must not reproach him

with having trifled with the long-suffering of God, and with having but

ill kept the resolutions of amendment, which he had some time or other

formed in the seasons of recollection and remorse?--And how is the

disquietude naturally excited by such a retrospect, confirmed and

heightened by passages like these? "Because I have called, and ye

refused; I have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded; but ye have

set at nought all my counsel, and would none of my reproof; I also will

laugh at your calamity; I will mock when your fear cometh: when your

fear cometh as desolation, and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind;

when distress and anguish cometh upon you: then shall they call upon me,

but I will not answer; they shall seek me early, but they shall not find

me: for that they hated knowledge, and did not chuse the fear of the

Lord[11]." The apprehensions, which must be excited by thus reading the

recorded judgments and awful language of Scripture, are confirmed to the

inquisitive and attentive mind, by a close observation of the moral

constitution of the world. Such a one will find occasion to remark, that

all, which has been suggested of the final consequences of vice, is in

strict analogy to what we may observe in the ordinary course of human

affairs, wherein it will appear, on a careful survey, that God has so

assigned to things their general tendencies, and established such an

order of causes and effects, as (however interrupted here below by

hindrances and obstructions apparently of a temporary nature) loudly

proclaim the principles of his moral government, and strongly suggest,

that vice and imprudence will finally terminate in misery[12]. Not that

this species of proof was wanted; for that which we must acknowledge, on

weighing the evidence, to be a revelation from God, requires not the aid

of such a confirmation: but yet, as this accordance might be expected

between the words and the works, the past and the future ordinations of

the same Almighty Being, it is no idle speculation to remark, that the

visible constitution of things in the world around us, falls in with the

representations here given from Scripture of the dreadful consequences

of vice, nay even of what is commonly termed inconsiderateness and

imprudence.

If such then be indeed our sad condition, what is to be done? Is there

no hope? Nothing left for us, "but a fearful looking for of judgment,

and fiery indignation, which shall devour the adversaries[13]?" Blessed

be God! we are not shut up irrecoverably in this sad condition: "Turn

you to the strong hold, ye prisoners of hope;" hear one who proclaims

his designation, "to heal the broken-hearted, to preach liberty to the

captives, and recovering of sight to the blind." They who have formed a

true notion of their lost and helpless state, will most gladly listen to

the sound, and most justly estimate the value of such a deliverance. And

this is the cause, which renders it of such pressing moment not to pass

cursorily over those important topics of the original and superinduced

corruption, and weakness of man; a discussion painful and humiliating

to the pride of human nature, to which the mind lends itself with

difficulty, and hearkens with a mixture of anger and disgust; but well

suited to our case, and like the distasteful lessons of adversity,

permanently useful in its consequences. It is here, never let it be

forgotten, that our foundation must be laid; otherwise our

superstructure, whatever we may think of it, will one day or other prove

tottering and insecure. This is therefore no metaphysical speculation,

but a practical matter: Slight and superficial conceptions of our state

of natural degradation, and of our insufficiency to recover from it of

ourselves, fall in too well with our natural inconsiderateness, and

produce that fatal insensibility to the divine warning to "flee from the

wrath to come," which we cannot but observe to prevail so generally.

Having no due sense of the malignity of our disease, and of its dreadful

issue, we do not set ourselves to work in earnest to obtain the remedy,

as to a business arduous indeed, but indispensable: for it must ever be

carefully remembered, that this deliverance is not _forced on us_, but

_offered to us_; we are furnished indeed with every help, and are always

to bear in mind, that we are unable of ourselves to will or to do

rightly; but we are plainly admonished to "work out our own salvation

with fear and trembling[14]."--Watchful, for we are encompassed with

dangers; "putting on the whole armour of God," for "we are beset with

enemies."

May we be enabled to shake off that lethargy which is so apt to creep

upon us! For this end, a deep practical conviction of our natural

depravity and weakness will be found of eminent advantage. As it is by

this we must at first be rouzed from our fallacious security, so by this

we must be kept wakeful and active unto the end. Let us therefore make

it our business to have this doctrine firmly seated in our

understandings, and radically worked into our hearts. With a view to the

former of these objects, we should often seriously and attentively

consider the firm grounds on which it rests. It is plainly made known to

us by the light of nature, and irresistibly enforced on us by the

dictates of our unassisted understandings. But lest there should be any

so obstinately dull, as not to discern the force of the evidence

suggested to our reason, and confirmed by all experience, or rather so

heedless as not to notice it, the authoritative stamp of Revelation is

superadded, as we have seen, to complete the proof; and we must

therefore be altogether inexcusable, if we still remain unconvinced by

such accumulated mass of argument.

But we must not only _assent_ to the doctrine clearly, but _feel_ it

strongly. To this end, let the power of habit be called in to our aid.

Let us accustom ourselves to refer to our natural depravity, as to their

primary cause, the sad instances of vice and folly of which we read, or

which we see around us, or to which we feel the propensities in our own

bosoms; ever vigilant and distrustful of ourselves, and looking with an

eye of kindness and pity on the faults and infirmities of others, whom

we should learn to regard with the same tender concern as that with

which the sick are used to sympathize with those who are suffering under

the same distemper as themselves. This lesson once well acquired, we

shall feel the benefit of it in all our future progress; and though it

be a lesson which we are slow to learn, it is one in which study and

experience, the incidents of every day, and every fresh observation of

the workings of our own hearts, will gradually concur to perfect us. Let

it not, after all then, be our reproach, and at length our ruin, that

these abundant means of instruction are possessed in vain.

SECTION III.

_Corruption of Human Nature.--Objection._

But there is one difficulty still behind, more formidable than all the

rest. The pride of man is loth to be humbled. Forced to abandon the plea

of innocence, and pressed so closely that he can no longer escape from

the conclusion to which we would drive him, some more bold objector

faces about and stands at bay, endeavouring to justify what he cannot

deny, "Whatever I am," he contends, "I am what my Creator made me. I

inherited a nature, you yourself confess, depraved, and prone to evil:

how then can I withstand the temptations to sin by which I am environed?

If this plea cannot establish my innocence, it must excuse or at least

extenuate my guilt. Frail and weak as I am, a Being of infinite justice

and goodness will never try me by a rule, which however equitable in the

case of creatures of a higher nature, is altogether disproportionate to

mine."

Let not my readers be alarmed! The writer is not going to enter into the

discussion of the grand question concerning the origin of moral evil,

or to attempt at large to reconcile its existence and consequent

punishment with the acknowledged attributes and perfections of God.

These are questions, of which, if one may judge from the little success

with which the acutest and profoundest reasoners have been ever

labouring to solve the difficulties they contain, the full and clear

comprehension is above the intellect of man. Yet, as such an objection

as that which has been stated is sometimes heard from the mouths of

professed Christians, it must not be passed by without a few short

observations.

Were the language in question to be addressed to us by an avowed

sceptic, though it might not be very difficult to expose to him the

futility of _his_ reasonings, we should almost despair of satisfying him

of the soundness of our own. We should perhaps suggest impossibilities,

which might stand in the way of such a system as he would establish: we

might indeed point out wherein (arguing from concessions which he would

freely make) his pre-conceptions concerning the conduct of the Supreme

Being, had been in fact already contradicted, particularly by the

existence at all of natural or moral evil: and if thus proved erroneous

in one instance, why might they not be so likewise in another? But

though by these and similar arguments we might at length silence our

objector, we could not much expect to bring him over to our opinions. We

should probably do better, if we were to endeavour rather to draw him

off from these dark and slippery regions, (slippery in truth they are to

every human foot) and to contend with him, where we might tread with

firmness and freedom, on sure ground, and in the light of day. Then we

might fairly lay before him all the various arguments for the truth of

our holy religion; arguments which have been sufficient to satisfy the

wisest, and the best, and the ablest of men. We should afterwards

perhaps insist on the abundant confirmation Christianity receives from

its being exactly suited to the nature and wants of man; and we might

conclude, with fairly putting it to him, whether all this weight of

evidence were to be overbalanced by this one difficulty, on a subject so

confessedly high and mysterious, considering too that he must allow, we

see but a part (O how small a part!) of the universal creation of God,

and that our faculties are wholly incompetent to judge of the schemes of

his infinite wisdom. This, if the writer may be permitted to offer his

own judgment, is (at least in general) the best mode, in the case of the

objection now in question, of dealing with unbelievers; and to adopt the

contrary plan, seems somewhat like that of any one, who having to

convince some untutored Indian of the truth of the Copernican system,

instead of beginning with plain and simple propositions, and leading him

on to what is more abstruse and remote, should state to him at the

outset some astonishing problems, to which the understanding can only

yield its slow assent, when constrained by the decisive force of

demonstration. The novice, instead of lending himself to such a mistaken

method of instruction, would turn away in disgust, and be only hardened

against his preceptor. But it must be remembered, that the present work

is addressed to those who acknowledge the authority of the holy

Scriptures. And in order to convince all such that there is somewhere or

other, a fallacy in our objector's reasoning, it will be sufficient to

establish that though the word of God clearly asserts the justice and

goodness of the Supreme Being, and also the natural depravity of man,

yet it no less clearly lays down that this natural depravity shall never

be admitted as an excuse for sin, but that "they which have done evil,

shall rise to the resurrection of damnation[15]."--"That the wicked

shall be turned into hell, and all the people that forget God." And it

is worthy of remark, that, as if for the very purpose of more

effectually silencing those unbelieving doubts which are ever springing

up in the human heart, our blessed Saviour, though the messenger of

peace and good will to man, has again and again repeated these awful

denunciations.

Nor (it must also be remarked) are the holy Scriptures less clear and

full in guarding us against supposing our sins, or the dreadful

consequences of them, to be chargeable on God.--"Let no man say when he

is tempted, I am tempted of God: for God cannot be tempted with evil,

neither tempteth he any man[16]:" "The Lord is not willing that any

should perish[17]." And again, where the idea is repelled as injurious

to his character,--"Have I any pleasure at all that the wicked should

die? saith the Lord God; and not that he should return from his ways,

and live[18]?" "For I have no pleasure in the death of him that dieth,

saith the Lord God[19]." Indeed almost every page of the word of God

contains some warning or invitation to sinners; and all these, to a

considerate mind, must unquestionably be proofs of our present position.

It has been the more necessary not to leave unnoticed the objection

which we have been now refuting, because, where not admitted to such an

unqualified extent as altogether to take away the moral responsibility

of man, and when not avowed in the daring language in which it has been

above stated; if may frequently be observed to exist in an inferior

degree: and often, when not distinctly formed into shape, it lurks in

secret, diffusing a general cloud of doubt or unbelief, or lowering our

standard of right, or whispering fallacious comfort, and producing a

ruinous tranquillity. Not to anticipate what will more properly come

under discussion, when we consider the nature and strictness of

practical Christianity; let us here, however, remark, that though the

holy Scriptures so clearly state the natural corruption and weakness of

man, yet they never, in the most minute degree, countenance, but

throughout directly oppose, the supposition to which we are often too

forward to listen, that this corruption and weakness will be admitted as

lowering the demands of divine justice, and in some sort palliating our

transgressions of the laws of God. It would not be difficult to shew

that such a notion is at war with the whole scheme of redemption by the

atonement of Christ. But perhaps it may be enough when any such

suggestions as those which we are condemning force themselves into the

imagination of a Christian, to recommend it to him to silence them by

what is their best practical answer: that if our natural condition be

depraved and weak, our temptations numerous, and our Almighty Judge

infinitely holy; yet that the offers to penitent sinners of pardon and

grace, and strength, are universal and unlimited. Let it not however

surprise us, if in all this there seem to be involved difficulties which

we cannot fully comprehend. How many such every where present

themselves! Scarcely is there an object around us, that does not afford

endless matter of doubt and argument. The meanest reptile which crawls

on the earth, nay, every herb and flower which we behold, baffles the

imbecility of our limited inquiries. All nature calls upon us to be

humble. Can it then be surprising if we are at a loss on this question,

which respects, not the properties of matter, or of numbers, but the

counsels and ways of him whose "Understanding is infinite[20]," "whose

judgments are declared to be unsearchable, and his ways past finding

out[21]?" In this our ignorance however, we may calmly repose ourselves

on his own declaration, "That though clouds and darkness are round about

him, yet righteousness and judgment are the habitation of his

throne[22]." Let it also be remembered, that if in Christianity some

things are difficult, that which it most concerns us to know, is plain

and obvious. To this it is true wisdom to attach ourselves, assenting to

what is revealed where above our faculties, we do not say contradictory

to them, on the credit of what is clearly discerned, and satisfactorily

established. In truth, we are all perhaps too apt to plunge into depths,

which it is beyond our power to fathom; and it was to warn us against

this very error, that the inspired writer, when he has been threatening

the people, whom God had selected as the objects of his special favour,

with the most dreadful punishments, if they should forsake the law of

the Lord, and has introduced surrounding nations as asking the meaning

of the severe infliction, winds up the whole with this instructive

admonition; "Secret things belong unto the Lord our God: but those which

are revealed belong unto us, and to our children for ever, that we may

_do_ all the words of this law[23]."

To any one who is seriously impressed with a sense of the critical state

in which we are here placed, a short and uncertain space in which to

make our peace with God, and then the last judgment, and an eternity of

unspeakable happiness or misery, it is indeed an awful and an affecting

spectacle, to see men thus busying themselves in these vain speculations

of an arrogant curiosity, and trifling with their dearest, their

everlasting interests. It is but a feeble illustration of this exquisite

folly, to compare it to the conduct of some convicted rebel, who, when

brought into the presence of his Sovereign, instead of seizing the

occasion to sue for mercy, should even neglect and trifle with the

pardon which should be offered to him, and insolently employ himself in

prying into his Sovereign's designs, and criticising his counsels. Our

case indeed is, in another point of comparison, but too much like that

of the convicted rebel. But there is this grand difference--that at the

best, his success must be uncertain, ours, if it be not our own fault,

is sure; and while, on the one hand, our guilt is unspeakably greater

than that of any rebel against an earthly monarch; so, on the other, we

know that our Sovereign is "Long-suffering, and easy to be intreated;"

more ready to grant, than we to ask, forgiveness. Well then may we adopt

the language of the poet:

What better can we do, than - - - prostrate fall

Before him reverent; and there confess

Humbly our faults, and pardon beg; with tears

Watering the ground, and with our sighs the air

Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign

Of sorrow unfeign'd, and humiliation meek?

CHAPTER III.

_Chief defects of the Religious System of the bulk of professed

Christians, in what regards our Lord Jesus Christ, and the Holy

Spirit--with a Dissertation concerning the use of the Passions in

Religion._

SECT. I

SCRIPTURE DOCTRINES.

That "God so loved the world, as of his tender mercy to give his only

Son Jesus Christ for our redemption:"

That our blessed Lord willingly left the glory of the Father, and was

made man;

That "he was despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows, and

acquainted with grief:"

That "he was wounded for our transgressions; that he was bruised for our

iniquities:"

That "the Lord laid on him the iniquity of us all:"

That at length "he humbled himself even to the death of the Cross, for

us miserable sinners; to the end that all who with hearty repentance and

true faith, should come to him, might not perish, but have everlasting

life:"

That he "is now at the right hand of God, making intercession" for his

people:

That "being reconciled to God by the death of his Son, we may come

boldly unto the throne of grace, to obtain mercy and find grace to help

in time of need:"

That our Heavenly Father "will surely give his Holy Spirit to them that

ask him:"

That "the Spirit of God must dwell in us;" and that "if any man have not

the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his:"

That by this divine influence "we are to be renewed in knowledge after

the image of him who created us," and "to be filled with the fruits of

righteousness, to the praise of the glory of his grace;"--that "being

thus made meet for the inheritance of the saints in light," we shall

sleep in the Lord; and that when the last trumpet shall sound, this

corruption shall put on incorruption--and that being at length perfected

after his likeness, we shall be admitted into his heavenly kingdom.

These are the leading Doctrines concerning our Saviour, and the Holy

Spirit, which are taught in the Holy Scriptures, and held by the Church

of England. The truth of them, agreeably to our general plan, will be

taken for granted. Few of those, who have been used to join in the

established form of worship, can have been, it is hoped, so inattentive,

as to be ignorant of these grand truths, which are to be found every

where dispersed throughout our excellent Liturgy. Would to God it could

be presumed, with equal confidence, that all who assent to them in

terms, discern their force and excellency in the understanding, and feel

their power in the affections, and their transforming influence in the

heart. What lively emotions are they calculated to excite in us of deep

self-abasement, and abhorrence of our sins; and of humble hope, and firm

faith, and heavenly joy, and ardent love, and active unceasing

gratitude!

But here, it is to be feared, will be found the grand defect of the

religion of the bulk of professed Christians; a defect, like the palsy

at the heart, which, while in its first attack, it changes but little

the exterior appearance of the body, extinguishes the internal principle

of heat and motion, and soon extends its benumbing influence to the

remotest fibres of the frame. This defect is closely connected with that

which was the chief subject of the last chapter: "they that are whole

need not a physician, but they that are sick." Had we duly felt the

burthen of our sins, that they are a load which our own strength is

wholly unable to support, and that the weight of them must finally sink

us into perdition, our hearts would have danced at the sound of the

gracious invitation, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy

laden, and I will give you rest[24]." But in those who have scarcely

felt their sins as any incumbrance, it would be mere affectation to

pretend to very exalted conceptions of the value and acceptableness of

the proffered deliverance. This pretence accordingly, is seldom now kept

up; and the most superficial observer, comparing the sentiments and

views of the bulk of the Christian world, with the articles still

retained in their creed, and with the strong language of Scripture, must

be struck with the amazing disproportion.

To pass over the throng from whose minds Religion is altogether excluded

by the business or the vanities of life, how is it with the more decent

and moral? To what criterion shall we appeal? Are their hearts really

filled with these things, and warmed by the love which they are adapted

to inspire? Then surely their minds are apt to stray to them almost

unseasonably; or at least to hasten back to them with eagerness, when

escaped from the estrangment imposed by the necessary cares and business

of life. He was a masterly describer of human nature, who thus

pourtrayed the characters of an undissembled affection;

"Unstaid and fickle in all other things,

Save in the constant image of the object,

That is beloved."

"And how," it may be perhaps replied, "do you know, but that the minds

of these people are thus occupied? Can you look into the bosoms of men?"

Let us appeal to a test to which we resorted in a former instance. "Out

of the abundance of the heart," it has been pronounced, "the mouth

speaketh."--Take these persons then in some well selected hour, and lead

the conversation to the subject of Religion. The utmost which can be

effected is, to bring them to talk of things in the gross. They appear

lost in generalities; there is nothing precise and determinate, nothing

which implies a mind used to the contemplation of its object. In vain

you strive to bring them to speak on that topic, which one might expect

to be ever uppermost in the hearts of redeemed sinners. They elude all

your endeavours; and if you make mention of it yourself, it is received

with no very cordial welcome at least, if not with unequivocal disgust;

it is at the best a forced and formal discussion. The excellence of our

Saviour's moral precepts, the kindness and simplicity, and self-denial

and unblemished purity of his life, his patience and meekness in the

hour of death, cannot indeed be spoken of but with admiration, when

spoken of at all, as they have often extorted unwilling praise from the

most daring and malignant infidels. But are not these mentioned as

qualities in the abstract, rather than as the perfections and lineaments

of our patron and benefactor and friend, "who loved us, and gave himself

for us;" of him "who died for _our_ offences, and rose again for _our_

justification;" who is even now at the "right hand of God, making

intercession for _us_?" Who would think that the kindness and humanity,

and self-denial, and patience in suffering, which we so drily commend,

had been exerted towards _ourselves_, in acts of more than finite

benevolence of which _we_ were to derive the benefit, in condescensions

and labours submitted to for _our_ sakes, in pain and ignominy, endured

for _our_ deliverance?

But these grand truths are not suffered to vanish altogether from our

remembrance. Thanks to the compilers of our Liturgy, more than to too

many of the occupiers of our pulpits, they are forced upon our notice in

their just bearings and connections, as often as we attend the service

of the church. Yet is it too much to affirm, that though there

entertained with decorum, as what belong to the day and place, and

occupation, they are yet too generally heard of with little interest;

like the legendary tales of some venerable historian, or other

transactions of great antiquity, if not of doubtful credit, which,

though important to our ancestors, relate to times and circumstances so

different from our own, that we cannot be expected to take any great

concern in them? We hear of them therefore with apparent indifference;

we repeat them almost as it were by rote, assuming by turns the language

of the deepest humiliation and of the warmest thankfulness, with a calm

unaltered composure; and when the service of the day is ended, they are

dismissed altogether from our thoughts, till on the return of another

Sunday, a fresh attendance on public worship gives occasion for the

renewed expressions of our periodical gratitude. In noticing such

lukewarmness as this, surely the writer were to be pardoned, if he were

to be betrayed into some warmth of condemnation. The Unitarian and

Socinian indeed, who deny, or explain away the peculiar doctrines of the

Gospel, may be allowed to feel, and talk of these grand truths with

little emotion. But in those who profess a sincere belief in them, this

coldness is insupportable. The greatest possible services of man to man

must appear contemptible, when compared with "the unspeakable mercies of

Christ:" mercies so dearly bought, so freely bestowed--A deliverance

from eternal misery--The gift of "a crown of glory, that fadeth not

away." Yet, what judgment should we form of such conduct, as is here

censured, in the case of any one who had received some signal services

from a fellow creature? True love is an ardent, and an active

principle--a cold, a dormant, a phlegmatic gratitude, are contractions

in terms. When these generous affections really exist in vigour, are we

not ever fond of dwelling on the value, and enumerating the merits of

our benefactor? How are we moved when any thing is asserted to his

disparagement! How do we delight to tell of his kindness! With what

pious care do we preserve any memorial of him, which we may happen to

possess? How gladly do we seize any opportunity of rendering to him, or

to those who are dear to him, any little good offices, which, though in

themselves of small intrinsic worth, may testify the sincerity of our

thankfulness! The very mention of his name will cheer the heart, and

light up the countenance! And if he be now no more, and if he had made

it his dying request that, in a way of his own appointment, we would

occasionally meet to keep the memory of his person, and of his services

in lively exercise; how should we resent the idea of failing in the

performance of so sacred an obligation!

Such are the genuine characters, such the natural workings of a lively

gratitude. And we believe, without doing violence to the most

established principles of human nature, that where the _effects_ are so

different, the _internal principle_ is in truth the same?

If the love of Christ be thus languid in the bulk of nominal Christians,

their joy and trust in him cannot be expected to be very vigorous. Here

again we find reason to remark, that there is nothing distinct, nothing

specific, nothing which implies a mind acquainted with the nature, and

familiarized with the use of the Christian's privileges, habitually

solacing itself with the hopes held out by the Gospel, and animated by

the sense of its high relations, and its glorious reversion.

The doctrine of the sanctifying operations of the Holy Spirit, appears

to have met with still worse treatment. It would be to convey a very

inadequate idea of the scantiness of the conceptions on this head, of

the bulk of the Christian world, to affirm merely, that they are too

little conscious of the inefficacy of their own unassisted endeavours

after holiness of heart and life, and that they are not daily employed

in humbly and diligently using the appointed means for the reception and

cultivation of the divine assistance. It would hardly be to go beyond

the truth to assert, that for the most part their notions on this

subject are so confused and faint, that they can scarcely be said in any

fair sense to believe the doctrine at all.

The writer of these sheets is by no means unapprized of the objections

which he may expect from those, whose opinions he has been so freely

condemning. He is prepared to hear it urged, that often where there have

been the strongest pretences to the religious affections, of which the

want has now been censured, there has been little or nothing of the

reality of them; and that even omitting the instances (which however

have been but too frequent) of studied hypocrisy, what have assumed to

themselves the name of religious affections, have been merely the

flights of a lively imagination, or the working of a heated brain; in

particular, that this love of our Saviour, which has been so warmly

recommended, is no better than a vain fervor, which dwells only in the

disordered mind of the enthusiast. That Religion is of a more steady

nature; of a more sober and manly quality; and that she rejects with

scorn, the support of a mere feeling, so volatile and indeterminate, so

trivial and useless, as that with which we would associate her; a

feeling varying in different men, and even in the same man at different

times, according to the accidental flow of the animal spirits; a

feeling, lastly, of which it may perhaps be said, we are from our very

nature, hardly susceptible towards an invisible Being.

"As to the operations of the Holy Spirit," it may probably be further

urged, that "it is perhaps scarcely worth while to spend much time in

inquiring into the theory, when, in practice at least, it is manifest,

that there is no sure criterion whereby any one can ascertain the

reality of them, even in his own case, much less in that of another. All

we know is, that pretenders to these extraordinary assistances, have

never been wanting to abuse the credulity of the vulgar, and to try the

patience of the wise. From the canting hypocrites and wild fanatics of

the last century, to their less dangerous, chiefly because less

successful, descendants of the present day, we hear the same unwarranted

claims, the same idle tales, the same low cant; and we may discern not

seldom the same mean artifices and mercenary ends. The doctrine, to say

the best of it, can only serve to favour the indolence of man, while

professing to furnish him with a compendious method of becoming wise and

good, it supersedes the necessity of his own personal labours. Quitting

therefore all these slothful and chimerical speculations, it is true

wisdom to attach ourselves to what is more solid and practical; to the

work which you will not yourself deny to be sufficiently difficult to

find us of itself full employment: the work of rectifying the disorders

of the passions, and of implanting and cultivating the virtues of the

moral character."--"It is the service of the understanding which God

requires of us, which you would degrade into a mere matter of bodily

temperament, and imaginary impulses. You are contending for that which

not only is altogether unworthy of our Divine Master, but which, with

considerate men, has ever brought his religion into suspicion and

disrepute, and under a shew of honouring him, serves only to injure and

discredit his cause." Our Objector, warming as he proceeds, will perhaps

assume a more impatient tone. "Have not these doctrines," he may

exclaim, "been ever perverted to purposes the most disgraceful to the

Religion of Jesus? If you want an instance, look to the standard of the

inquisition, and behold the pious Dominicans torturing their miserable

victims for the Love of Christ[25]. Or would you rather see the effects

of your principles on a larger scale, and _by wholesale_ (if the phrase

may be pardoned;) cast your eyes across the Atlantic, and let your zeal

be edified by the holy activity of Cortez and Pizarro, and their

apostles of the western hemisphere. To what else have been owing the

extensive ravages of national persecutions, and religious wars and

crusades; whereby rapacity, and pride, and cruelty, sheltering

themselves (sometimes even from the furious bigots themselves) under the

mask of this specious principle, have so often afflicted the world? The

Prince of Peace has been made to assume the port of a ferocious

conqueror, and forgetting the message of good will to men, has issued

forth like a second Scourge of the Earth[26], to plague and desolate the

human species."

_Objection discussed._

That the sacred name of Religion has been too often prostituted to the

most detestable purposes; that furious bigots and bloody persecutors,

and self-interested hypocrites of all qualities and dimensions, from the

rapacious leader of an army, to the canting oracle of a congregation,

have falsely called themselves Christians, are melancholy and

humiliating truths, which (as none so deeply lament them) none will more

readily admit, than they who best understand the nature, and are most

concerned for the honour of Christianity. We are ready to acknowledge

also without dispute, that the religious affections, and the doctrine of

divine assistances, have almost at all times been more or less disgraced

by the false pretences and extravagant conduct of wild fanatics and

brain-sick enthusiasts. All this, however, is only as it happens in

other instances, wherein the depravity of man perverts the bounty of

God. Why is it here only to be made an argument, that there is danger of

abuse? So is there also in the case of all the potent and operative

principles, whether in the natural or moral world. Take for an instance

the powers and properties of matter. These were doubtless designed by

Providence for our comfort and well-being; yet they are often

misapplied to trifling purposes, and still more frequently turned into

so many agents of misery and death. On this fact indeed is founded the

well-known maxim, not more trite than just, that "the best things when

corrupted become the worst;" a maxim which is especially just in the

instance of Religion. For in this case it is not merely, as in some

others, that a great power, when mischievously applied, must be hurtful

in proportion to its strength; but that the very principle on which in

general we depend for restraining and retarding the progress of evil,

not only ceases to interpose any kindly check, but is actively operative

in the opposite direction. But will you therefore discard Religion

altogether? The experiment was lately tried in a neighbouring country,

and professedly on this very ground. The effects however with which it

was attended, do not much encourage its repetition. But suppose Religion

were discarded, then Liberty remains to plague the world; a power which

though when well employed, the dispenser of light and happiness, has

been often proved, and eminently in this very instance, to be capable

when abused, of becoming infinitely mischievous. Well then, extinguish

Liberty. Then what more abused by false pretenders, than Patriotism?

Well, extinguish Patriotism. But then the wicked career to which we have

adverted, must have been checked but for Courage. Blot out Courage--and

so might you proceed to extinguish one by one, Reason, and Speech, and

Memory, and all the discriminating prerogatives of man. But perhaps more

than enough has been already urged in reply to an objection, which

bottoms on ground so indefensible, as that which would equally warrant

our condemning any physical or moral faculty altogether, on account of

its being occasionally abused.

As to the position of our Opponent, that there is no way whereby the

validity of any pretensions to the religious affections may be

ascertained; it must partly be admitted. Doubtless we are not able

always to read the hearts of men, and to discover their real characters;

and hence it is, that we in some measure lie open to the false and

hypocritical pretences which are brought forward against us so

triumphantly. But then these pretences no more prove all similar claims

to be founded in falsehood and hypocrisy, than there having been many

false and interested pretenders to wisdom and honesty, would prove that

there can be no such thing as a wise or an honest man. We do not argue

thus but where our reason is under a corrupt bias. Why should we be so

much surprised and scandalized, when these importers are detected in the

church of Christ? It is no more than our blessed Master himself taught

us to expect; and when the old difficulty is stated, "didst thou not sow

good seed in thy field, whence then hath it tares?" his own answer

furnishes the best solution,--"an enemy hath done this."--Hypocrisy is

indeed _detestable_, and enthusiasm sufficiently mischievous to justify

our guarding against its approaches with jealous care. Yet it may not be

improper to take this occasion for observing, that we are now and then

apt to draw too unfavourable conclusions from unpleasant appearances,

which may perhaps be chiefly or altogether owing to gross or confused

conceptions, or to a disgusting formality of demeanor, or to

indeterminate, low, or improperly familiar expressions. The mode and

language, in which a vulgar man will express himself on the subject of

Religion, will probably be vulgar, and it is difficult for people of

literature and refinement not to be unreasonably shocked by such

vulgarities. But we should at least endeavour to correct the rash

judgments which we may be disposed to form on these occasions, and

should learn to recognize and to prize a sound texture and just

configuration, though disguised beneath a homely or uncouth drapery. It

was an Apostle who declared that he had come (to the learned and

accomplished Grecians too) "not with excellency of speech, or the wisdom

of words." From these he had studiously abstained, lest he should have

seemed to owe his success rather to the graces of oratory, than to the

efficacy of his doctrines, and to the divine power with which they were

accompanied. Even in our own times, when, the extraordinary operations

and miraculous gifts of the Holy Spirit having ceased, the necessity of

study and preparation, and of attention to manner as well as matter, in

order to qualify men to become teachers of religion, are no longer

superseded, yet it is no more than an act of justice explicitly to

remark, that a body of Christians, which from the peculiarly offensive

grossnesses of language in use among them, had, not without reason,

excited suspicions of the very worst nature, have since reclaimed their

character[27], and have perhaps excelled all mankind in solid and

unequivocal proofs of the love of Christ, and of the most ardent, and

active, and patient zeal in his service. It is a zeal tempered with

prudence, softened with meekness, soberly aiming at great ends by the

gradual operation of well adapted means, supported by a courage which no

danger can intimidate, and a quiet constancy which no hardships can

exhaust.

SECT. II.

_On the Admission of the Passions into Religion._

The objection of our Opponent, that by insisting on the obligation of

making our blessed Saviour the object of our religious affections, we

are degrading the worship of the understanding, and are substituting and

raising up a set of mere feelings in its stead, is one which deserves

our most serious consideration. If it be just, it is decisive; for ours

must be unquestionably "a reasonable service[28]." The Objector must

mean, either, that these affections are unreasonable in themselves, or

that they are misplaced in religion. He can scarcely however intend that

the affections are in their own nature unreasonable. To suppose him to

maintain this position, were to suppose him ignorant of what every

schoolboy knows of the mechanism of the human mind. We shall therefore

take it for granted, that this cannot be his meaning, and proceed to

examine the latter part of the alternative. Here also it may either be

intended, that the affections are misplaced in Religion, _generally_, or

that our blessed Saviour is not the proper object of them. The strain of

our Objector's language, no less than the objections themselves which

he has urged, render it evident that (perhaps without excluding the

latter position) the former is in full possession of his mind.

This notion of the affections being out of place in Religion, is indeed

an opinion which appears to be generally prevalent. The affections are

regarded as the strong-holds of enthusiasm. It is therefore judged most

expedient to act, as prudent generals are used to do, when they raze the

fortress, or spike up the cannon, which are likely to fall into the

hands of an enemy. Mankind are apt to be the dupes of misapplied terms;

and the progress of the persuasion now in question, has been

considerably aided by an abuse of language, not sufficiently checked in

its first advances, whereby that species of Religion which is opposite

to the warm and affectionate kind, has been suffered almost without

disturbance, to usurp to itself the epithet of _rational_. But let not

this claim be too hastily admitted. Let the position in question be

thoroughly and impartially discussed, and it will appear, if I mistake

not, to be a gross and pernicious error. If amputation be indeed

indispensable, we must submit to it; but we may surely expect to be

heard with patience, or rather with favour and indulgence, while we

proceed to shew that there is no need to have recourse to so desperate

an enemy. The discussion will necessarily draw us into length. But our

prolixity will not be greater than may well be claimed by the importance

of the subject, especially as it scarcely seems to have hitherto

sufficiently engaged the attention of writers on the subject of

Religion.

It cannot methinks but afford a considerable presumption against the

doctrine which we are about to combat, that it proposes to exclude at

once from the service of Religion so grand a part of the composition of

man; that in this our noblest employment it condemns as worse than

useless, all the most active and operative principles of our nature. One

cannot but suppose that like the organs of the body, so the elementary

qualities and original passions of the mind were all given us for

valuable purposes by our all-wise Creator. It is indeed one of the sad

evidences of our fallen condition, that they are now perpetually

tumultuating and rebelling against the powers of reason and conscience,

to which they should be subject. But even if Revelation had been silent,

natural reason might have in some degree presumed, that it would be the

effect of a Religion which should come from God, completely to repair

the consequences of our superinduced depravity. The schemes of mere

human wisdom had indeed tacitly confessed, that this was a task beyond

their strength. Of the two most celebrated systems of philosophy, the

one expressly confirmed the usurpation of the passions, while the other,

despairing of being able to regulate, saw nothing left but to extinguish

them. The former acted like a weak government, which gives independence

to a rebellious province, which it cannot reduce. The latter formed its

boasted scheme merely upon the plan of that barbarous policy, which

composes the troubles of a turbulent land by the extermination of its

inhabitants. This is the calm, not of order, but of inaction; it is not

tranquillity, but the stillness of death;

Trucidare falso nomine imperium, & ubi solitudinem faciunt,

pacem appellant--

Christianity, we might hope, would not be driven to any such wretched

expedients; nor in fact does she condescend to them. They only thus

undervalue her strength, who mistake her character, and are ignorant of

her powers. It is her peculiar glory, and her main office, to bring all

the faculties of our nature into their just subordination and

dependence; that so the whole man, complete in all his functions, may be

restored to the true ends of his being, and be devoted, entire and

harmonious, to the service and glory of God. "My son, give me thine

_heart_"--"Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy _heart_:"--Such

are the direct and comprehensive claims which are made on us in the holy

Scriptures. We can scarcely indeed look into any part of the sacred

volume without meeting abundant proofs, that it is the religion of the

Affections which God particularly requires. Love, Zeal, Gratitude, Joy,

Hope, Trust, are each of them specified; and are not allowed to us as

weaknesses, but enjoined on us as our bounden duty, and commended to us

as our acceptable worship. Where passages are so numerous, there would

be no end of particular citations. Let it be sufficient therefore, to

refer the reader to the word of God. There let him observe too, that as

the lively exercise of the passions towards their legitimate object, is

always spoken of with praise, so a cold, hard, unfeeling heart is

represented as highly criminal. Lukewarmness is stated to be the object

of God's disgust and aversion; zeal and love, of his favour and delight;

and the taking away of the heart of stone and the implanting of a warmer

and more tender nature in its stead, is specifically promised as the

effect of his returning favour, and the work of his renewing grace. It

is the prayer of an inspired teacher, in behalf of those for whom he was

most interested, "that their love" (already acknowledged to be great)

"might abound yet more and more:" Those modes of worship are set forth

and prescribed, which are best calculated to excite the dormant

affections, and to maintain them in lively exercise; and the aids of

music and singing are expressly superadded to increase their effect. If

we look to the most eminent of the Scripture Characters, we shall find

them warm, zealous, and affectionate. When engaged in their favourite

work of celebrating the goodness of their Supreme Benefactor, their

souls appear to burn within them, their hearts kindle into rapture; the

powers of language are inadequate to the expression of their transports;

and they call on all nature to swell the chorus, and to unite with them

in hallelujahs of gratitude, and joy, and praise. The man after God's

own heart most of all abounds in these glowing effusions; and his

compositions appear to have been given us in order to set the tone, as

it were, to all succeeding generations. Accordingly (to quote the words

of a late excellent prelate[29], who was himself warmed with the same

heavenly flame) "in the language of this divine book, the praises of the

church have been offered up to the Throne of Grace from age to age."

Again, when it pleased God to check the future apostle of the Gentiles

in his wild career, and to make him a monument of transforming grace;

was the force of his affections diminished, or was it not only that

their direction was changed? He brought his affections entire and

unabated into the service of his blessed Master. His zeal now burned

even with an increase of brightness; and no intenseness, no continuance

of suffering could allay its ardor, or damp the fervors of his

triumphant exultations. Finally--The worship and service of the

glorified spirits in Heaven, is not represented to us a cold

intellectual investigation, but as the worship and service of gratitude

and love. And surely it will not be disputed, that it should be even

here the humble endeavour of those, who are promised while on earth "to

be made meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light,"

to bring their hearts into a capacity for joining in those everlasting

praises.

BUT it may not be unadvisable for the writer here to guard against a

mistaken supposition, from which the mind of our Objector by no means

appears exempt, that the force of the religious affections is to be

mainly estimated (I had almost said by the thermometer) by the degree of

mere animal fervor, by ardors, and transports, and raptures, of which,

from constitutional temperament, a person may be easily susceptible; or

into which daily experience must convince us, that people of strong

conceptions and of warm passions may work themselves without much

difficulty, where their hearts are by no means truly or deeply

interested. Every tolerable actor can attest the truth of this remark.

These high degrees of the passions bad men may experience, good men may

want. They may be affected; they may be genuine; but whether genuine or

affected, they form not the true standard by which the real nature or

strength of the religious affections is to be determined. To ascertain

these points, we must examine, whether they appear to be grounded in

knowledge, to have their root in strong and just conceptions of the

great and manifold excellences of their object, or to be ignorant,

unmeaning, or vague: whether they are natural and easy, or constrained

and forced; wakeful and apt to fix on their great objects, delighting in

their proper nutriment (if the expression may be allowed) the exercises

of prayer and praise, and religious contemplation; or voluntarily

omitting offered occasions of receiving it, looking forward to them with

little expectation, looking back on them with little complacency, and

being disappointed of them with little regret: by observing whether

these religious affections are merely occasional visitants, or the

abiding inmates of the soul: whether they have got the mastery over the

vicious passions and propensities, with which in their origin, and

nature, and tendency, they are at open variance; or whether if the

victory be not yet complete, the war is at least constant, and the

breach irreconcilable: whether they moderate and regulate all the

inferior appetites and desires which are culpable only in their excess,

thus striving to reign in the bosom with a settled undisputed

predominance: by examining, whether above all they manifest themselves

by prompting to the active discharge of the duties of life, the

personal, and domestic, and relative, and professional, and social, and

civil duties. Here the wideness of their range and the universality of

their influence, will generally serve to distinguish them from those

partial efforts of diligence and self-denial, to which mankind are

prompted by subordinate motives. All proofs other than this deduced from

conduct, are in some degree ambiguous. This, this only, whether we

argue from Reason or from Scripture, is a sure infallible criterion.

From the daily incidents of conjugal and domestic life, we learn that a

heat of affection occasionally vehement, but superficial and transitory,

may consist too well with a course of conduct, exhibiting incontestable

proofs of neglect and unkindness. But the passion, which alone the Holy

Scriptures dignify with the name of Love, is a deep, not a superficial

feeling; a fixed and permanent, not an occasional emotion. It proves the

validity of its title, by actions corresponding with its nature, by

practical endeavours to gratify the wishes and to promote the interests

of the object of affection. "If a man love me, he will keep my sayings."

"This is the love of God, that we keep his commandments." This therefore

is the best standard by which to try the quality, or, the quality being

ascertained, to estimate the strength of the religious affections.

Without suffering ourselves to derive too much complacency from

transient fervors of devotion, we should carefully and frequently prove

ourselves by this less dubitable test; impartially examining our daily

conduct; and often comparing our actual, with our possible services, the

fair amount of our exertions, with our natural or acquired means and

opportunities of usefulness.

After this large explanation, the prolixity of which will we trust be

pardoned on account of the importance of the subject, and the danger of

mistakes both on the right hand and on the left, we are perfectly ready

to concede to the objector, whose arguments we have so long been

considering, that the religious affections must be expected to be more

or less lively in different men, and in the same man at different times,

in proportion to natural tempers, ages, situations, and habits of life.

But, to found an objection on this ground, would be as unreasonable as

it were altogether to deny the obligation of the precepts, which command

us to relieve the necessities of the indigent, because the infinitely

varying circumstances of mankind must render it impossible to specify

beforehand the sum which each individual ought on the whole to allot to

this purpose, or to fix in every particular instance, on any determinate

measure, and mode of contribution. To the one case no less than to the

other, we may apply the maxim of an eminent writer; "An honest heart is

the best casuist." He who every where but in Religion is warm and

animated, there only phlegmatic and cold, can hardly expect (especially

if this coldness be not the subject of unfeigned humiliation and sorrow)

that his plea on the ground of natural temper should be admitted; any

more than that of a person who should urge his poverty as a

justification of his not relieving the wants of the necessitous, at the

very time that he should be launching out into expence without

restraint, on occasions in which he should be really prompted by his

inclinations. In both cases, "it is the _willing_ mind which is

required." Where that is found "every man will be judged according to

what he hath, and not according to what he hath not[30]."

After the decisive proofs already adduced from the word of God, of the

unreasonableness of the objection to the admission of the passions into

Religion, all farther arguments may appear superfluous to any one who is

disposed to bow to scriptural authority. Yet the point is of so much

importance, and it is to be feared, so little regarded, that it may not

be amiss to continue the discussion. The best results of our

understanding will be shewn to fall in with what clearly appears to be

the authoritative language of revelation; and to call in the aid of the

affections to the service of Religion, will prove to be not only what

sober reason may permit, as in some sort allowable; but to be that which

she clearly and strongly dictates to our deliberate judgments, as being

what the circumstances of our natural condition indispensably require.

We have every one of us a work to accomplish, wherein our eternal

interests are at stake; a work to which we are naturally indisposed. We

live in a world abounding with objects which distract our attention and

divert our endeavours; and a deadly enemy is ever at hand to seduce and

beguile us. If we persevere indeed, success is certain; but our efforts

must know no remission. There is a call on us for vigorous and continual

resolution, self-denial, and activity. Now, man is not a being of mere

intellect.

Video meliora proboque, deteriora sequor,

is a complaint which, alas! we all of us might daily utter. The

slightest solicitation of appetite is often able to draw us to act in

opposition to our clearest judgment, our highest interests, and most

resolute determinations. Sickness, poverty, disgrace, and even eternal

misery itself, sometimes in vain solicit our regards; they are all

excluded from the view, and thrust as it were beyond the sphere of

vision, by some poor unsubstantial transient object, so minute and

contemptible as almost to escape the notice of the eye of reason.

These observations are more strikingly confirmed in our religious

concerns than in any other; because in them the interests at stake are

of transcendant importance: but they hold equally in every instance

according to its measure, wherein there is a call for laborious,

painful, and continued exertions, from which any one is likely to be

deterred by obstacles, or seduced by the solicitations of pleasure. What

then it to be done in the case of any such arduous and necessary

undertaking? The answer is obvious--You should endeavour not only to

convince the understanding, but also to affect the heart; and for this

end, you must secure the reinforcement of the passions. This is indeed

the course which would be naturally followed by every man of common

understanding, who should know that some one for whom he was deeply

interested, a child, for instance, or a brother, were about to enter on

a long, difficult, perilous, and critical adventure, wherein success was

to be honour and affluence; defeat was to be contempt and ruin. And

still more, if the parent were convinced that his child possessed

faculties which, strenuously and unremittingly exerted, would prove

equal to all the exigences of the enterprize, but knew him also to be

volatile and inconstant, and had reason to doubt his resolution and his

vigilance; how would the friendly monitor's endeavour be redoubled, so

to possess his pupil's mind with the worth and dignity of the

undertaking, that there should be no opening for the entrance of any

inferior consideration!--"Weigh well (he would say) the value of the

object for which you are about to contend, and contemplate and study its

various excellences, till your whole soul be on fire for its

acquisition. Consider too, that, if you fail, misery and infamy are

united in the alternative which awaits you. Let not the mistaken notion

of its being a safe and easy service, for a moment beguile you into the

discontinuance or remission of your efforts. Be aware of your imminent

danger, and at the same time know your true security. It is a service of

labour and peril; but one wherein the powers which you possess,

strenuously and perseveringly exerted, cannot but crown you with

victory. Accustom yourself to look first to the dreadful consequences of

failure; then fix your eye on the glorious prize which is before you;

and when your strength begins to fail, and your spirits are well nigh

exhausted, let the animating view rekindle your resolution, and call

forth in renewed vigour the fainting energies of your soul."

It was the remark of an unerring observer, "The children of this world

are wiser in their generation than the children of light." And it is

indisputably true, that in religion we have to argue and plead with men

for principles of action, the wisdom and expediency of which are

universally acknowledged in matters of worldly concern. So it is in the

instance before us. The case which has been just described, is an exact,

but a faint representation of our condition in this life. Frail and

"infirm of purpose," we have a business to execute of supreme and

indispensable necessity. Solicitations to neglect it every where abound:

the difficulties and dangers are numerous and urgent; and the night of

death cometh, how soon we know not, "when no man can work." All this is

granted. It seems to be a state of things wherein one should look out

with solicitude for some powerful stimulants. Mere knowledge is

confessedly too weak. The affections alone remain to supply the

deficiency. They precisely meet the occasion, and suit the purposes

intended. Yet, when we propose to fit ourselves for our great

undertaking, by calling them in to our help, we are to be told that we

are acting contrary to reason. Is this reasonable, to strip us first of

our armour of proof, and then to send us to the sharpest of encounters?

To summon us to the severest labours, but first to rob us of the

precious cordials which should brace our sinews and recruit our

strength?

Let these pretended advocates for reason at length then confess their

folly, and do justice to the superior wisdom as well as goodness of our

heavenly Instructor, who better understanding our true condition, and

knowing our frowardness and inadvertency, has most reasonably as well as

kindly pointed out and enjoined on us the use of those aids which may

counteract our infirmities; who commanding the effect, has commanded

also the means whereby it may be accomplished.

And now, if the use of the affections in religion, in _general_, be at

length shewn to be conformable to reason, it will not require many words

to prove that our blessed Saviour is the proper object of them. We know

that love, gratitude, joy, hope, trust, (the affections in question)

have all their appropriate objects. Now it must be at once conceded,

that if these appropriate objects be not exhibited, it is perfectly

unreasonable to expect that the correspondent passions should be

excited. If we ask for love, in the case of an object which has no

excellence or desirableness; for gratitude, where no obligation has

been conferred; for joy, where there is no just cause of

self-congratulation; for hope, where nothing is expected; for trust,

where there exists no ground of reliance; then indeed, we must kiss the

rod, and patiently submit to correction. This would be indeed Egyptian

bondage, to demand the effects without the means of producing them. Is

the case then so? Are we ready to adopt the language of the avowed

enemies of our adorable Saviour; and again to say of him "in whom

dwelleth all the fulness of the Godhead bodily," that "he hath no form

nor comeliness; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we

should desire him[31]?" Is it no obligation, that he who "thought it not

robbery to be equal with God," should yet for our sakes "make himself of

no reputation, and take upon him the form of a servant, and be made in

the likeness of men; and humble himself, and become obedient unto death,

even the death of the cross[32]?" Is it no cause of "_joy_, that to us

is born a Saviour[33]", by whom we may "be delivered from the power of

darkness; and be made meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the

saints in light[34]?" Can there be a "_hope_ comparable to that of our

calling[35]"--"Which is Christ in us, the hope of glory[36]?" Can there

be a _trust_ to be preferred to the reliance on "Christ Jesus; who is

the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever[37]?" Surely, if our Opponent

be not dead to every generous emotion, he cannot look his own objection

in the face, without a blush of shame and indignation.

SECTION III.

_Consideration of the Reasonableness of Affections towards an invisible

Being._

But forced at last to retreat from his favourite position, and compelled

to acknowledge that the religious affections towards our blessed Saviour

are not unreasonable; he still however maintains the combat, suggesting

that by the very constitution of our nature, we are not susceptible of

them towards an invisible Being; in whose case, it will be added, we are

shut out from all those means of communication and intercourse, which

knit and cement the union between man and man.

We mean not to deny that there is something in this objection. It might

even seem to plead the authority of Scripture in its favour--"He that

loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he

hath not seen[38]?" And it was indeed no new remark in Horace's days,

Segnius irritant animos demissa per aures,

Quam quae sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus.

We receive impressions more readily from visible objects, we feel them

more strongly, and retain them more durably. But though it must be

granted that this circumstance makes it a more difficult task to

preserve the affections in question in a healthful and vigorous state;

is it thereby rendered impossible? This were indeed a most precipitate

conclusion; and any one who should be disposed to admit the truth of it,

might be at least induced to hesitate, when he should reflect that the

argument applies equally against the possibility of the love of God, a

duty of which the most cursory reader of Scripture, if he admit its

divine authority, cannot but acknowledge the indispensable obligation.

But we need only look back to the Scripture proofs which have been

lately adduced, to be convinced that the religious affections are

therein inculcated on us, as a matter of high and serious obligation.

Hence we may be assured that the impossibility stated by our Opponent

does not exist.

Let us scrutinize this matter, however, a little more minutely, and we

shall be compelled to acknowledge, though the conclusion may make

against ourselves, that the objection vanishes when we fairly and

accurately investigate the circumstances of the case. With this view,

let us look a little into the nature of the affections of the human

mind, and endeavour to ascertain whence it is that they derive their

nutriment, and are found from experience to increase in strength.

The state of man is such, that his feelings are not the obedient

servants of his reason, prompt at once to follow its dictates, as to

their direction, and their measure. Excellence is the just object of

love; good in expectancy, of hope; evil to be apprehended, of fear; our

fellow creatures' misfortunes, and sufferings, constitute the just

objects of pity. Each of these passions, it might be thought, would be

excited, in proportion to what our reason should inform us were the

magnitude and consequent claims of its corresponding object. But this is

by no means the case. Take first for a proof the instance of pity. We

read of slaughtered thousands with less emotion, than we hear the

particulars of a shocking accident which has happened in the next

street; the distresses of a novel, which at the same time we know to be

fictitious, affect us more than the dry narrative of a battle. We become

so much interested by these incidents of the imagination (aware all the

while that they are merely such) that we cannot speedily banish them

from our thoughts, nor recover the tone of our minds; and often, we

scarcely bring ourselves to lay down our book at the call of real

misfortune, of which we go perhaps to the relief, on a principle of

duty, but with little sense of interest or emotion of tenderness. It

were easy to shew that it is much the same in the case of the other

affections. Whatever be the cause of this disproportion, which (as

metaphysics fall not within our province) we shall not stop to examine,

the fact is undeniable. There appears naturally to be a certain

strangeness between the passion and its object, which familiarity and

the power of habit must gradually overcome. You must contrive to bring

them into _close contact_; they must be jointed and glued together by

the particularities of little incidents. Thus in the production of heat

in the physical world, the flint and the steel produce not the effect

without collision; the rudest Barbarian will tell us the necessity of

attrition, and the chemist of mixture. Now, an object, it is admitted,

is brought into _closer contact_ with its corresponding passion, by

being seen and conversed with. This we grant is one way; but does it

follow that there is no other? To assert this, would be something like

maintaining, in contradiction to universal experience, that objects of

vision alone are capable of attracting our regard. But nothing can be

more unfounded than such a supposition. It might appear to be too

nearly approaching to the ludicrous, to suggest as an example to the

contrary, the metaphysician's attachment to his insubstantial

speculations, or the zeal displayed in the pursuit,

Extra flammantia moenia mundi,

of abstract sciences, where there is no idea of bringing them "within

the visible diurnal sphere" to the vulgarity of practical application.

The instance of the novel before-mentioned, proves, that we may be

extremely affected by what we know to be merely ideal incidents and

beings. By much thinking or talking of any one; by using our minds to

dwell on his excellences; by placing him in imaginary situations which

interest and affect us; we find ourselves becoming insensibly more and

more attached to him: whereas it is the surest expedient for

extinguishing an attachment which already exists, to engage in such

occupations or society, as may cause our casual thoughts and more fixed

meditations to be diverted from the object of it. Ask a mother who has

been long separated from her child, especially if he has been in

circumstances of honour, or of danger, to draw her attention to him, and

to keep it in wakefulness and exercise, and she will tell you, that so

far from becoming less dear, he appears to have grown more the object of

her affections. She seems to herself to love him even better than the

child who has been living under her roof, and has been daily in her

view. How does she rejoice in his good fortune, and weep over his

distresses! With what impatience does she anticipate the time of his

return!

We find therefore that sight and personal intercourse do not seem

necessary to the production or increase of attachment, where the means

of _close contact_ have been afforded; but on the other hand, if an

object have been prevented from coming into _close contact_, sight and

personal intercourse are not sufficient to give it the power of exciting

the affections in proportion to its real magnitude. Suppose the case of

a person whom we have often seen, and may have occasionally conversed

with, and of whom we have been told in the general, that he possesses

extraordinary merits. We assent to the assertion. But if we have no

knowledge of particulars, no close acquaintance with him, nothing in

short which brings his merits home to us, they interest us less than

what we know to be a far inferior degree of the very same qualities in

one of our common associates. A parent has several children, all

constantly under his eye, and equally dear to him. Yet if any one of

them be taken ill, it is brought into so much _closer contact_ than

before, that it seems to absorb and engross the parent's whole

affection. Thus then, though it will not be denied that an object by

being visible may thereby excite its corresponding affection with more

facility; yet this is manifestly far from being the prime consideration.

And so far are we from being the slaves of the sense of vision, that a

familiar acquaintance with the intrinsic excellences of an object,

aided, it must be admitted, by the power of habit, will render us almost

insensible to the impressions which its outward form conveys, and able

entirely to lose the consciousness of an unsightly exterior.

We may be permitted to remark, that the foregoing observations furnish

an explanation, less discreditable than that which has been sometimes

given, of an undoubted phaenomenon in the human mind, that the greatest

public misfortunes, however the understanding may lecture, are apt

really to affect our feelings less than the most trivial disaster which

happens to ourselves. An eminent writer[39] scarcely overstated the

point when he observed, "that it would occasion a man of humanity more

real disturbance to know that he was the next morning to lose his little

finger, than to hear that the great empire of China had been suddenly

swallowed up by an earthquake. The thoughts of the former, would keep

him awake all night; in the latter case, after making many melancholy

reflections on the precariousness of human life, and the vanity of all

the labours of man which could be thus annihilated in a moment; after a

little speculation too perhaps on the causes of the disaster, and its

effects in the political and commercial world; he would pursue his

business or his pleasure with the same ease and tranquillity as if no

such accident had happened; and snore at night with the most profound

serenity over the ruin of a hundred million of his fellow creatures.

Selfishness is not the cause of this, for the most unfeeling brute on

earth would surely think nothing of the loss of a finger, if he could

thereby prevent so dreadful a calamity." This doctrine of _contact_

which has been opened above, affords a satisfactory solution; and from

all which has been said (the writer has reason perhaps to apologize for

the length of the discussion) the circumstances, by which the affections

of the mind towards any particular object are generated and

strengthened, may be easily collected. The chief of these appear to be,

whatever tends to give a distinct and lively impression of the object,

by setting before us its minute parts, and by often drawing towards it

the thoughts and affections, so as to invest it by degrees with a

confirmed ascendency: whatever tends to excite and to keep in exercise a

lively interest in its behalf: in other words; full knowledge, distinct

and frequent mental entertainment, and pathetic contemplations.

Supposing these means to have been used in any given degree, it may be

expected, that they will be more or less efficacious, in proportion as

the intrinsic qualities of the object afford greater or less scope for

their operation, and more or fewer materials with which to work. Can it

then be conceived, that they will be of no avail when steadily practised

in the case of our Redeemer! If the principles of love, and gratitude,

and joy, and hope, and trust, are not utterly extinct within us, they

cannot but be called forth by the various corresponding objects which

that blessed contemplation would gradually bring forth to our view. Well

might the language of the apostle be addressed to Christians, "Whom

having _not seen_ ye love; in whom, though now ye _see him not_, yet

believing, ye _rejoice_ with joy unspeakable, and full of glory[40]."

BUT fresh considerations pour in to render in this instance, the plea of

its being impossible to love an invisible being, still more invalid. Our

blessed Saviour, if we may be permitted so to say, is not removed far

from us; and the various relations in which we stand towards him, seem

purposely made known to us, in order to furnish so many different bonds

of connection with him, and consequent occasions of continual

intercourse. He exhibits not himself to us "dark with excessive

brightness," but is let down as it were to the possibilities of human

converse. We may not think that he is incapable of entering into our

little concerns, and sympathizing with them; for we are graciously

assured that he is not one "who cannot be touched with the feeling of

our infirmities, having been in all points tempted like as we are[41]."

The figures under which he is represented, are such as convey ideas of

the utmost tenderness. "He shall feed his flock like a shepherd; he

shall gather the lambs in his arm, and carry them in his bosom, and

shall gently lead those that are with young[42]."--"They shall not

hunger nor thirst, neither shall the heat nor sun smite them; for he

that hath mercy on them, shall lead them, even by the springs of water

shall he guide them[43]." "I will not leave you orphans[44]" was one of

his last consolatory declarations[45]. The children of Christ are here

separated indeed from the personal view of him; but not from his

paternal affection and paternal care. Meanwhile let them quicken their

regards by the animating anticipation of that blessed day, when he "who

is gone to prepare a place for them, will come again to receive them

unto himself." Then shall they be admitted to his more immediate

presence: "Now we see through a glass darkly; but then face to face:

now I know in part; but then shall I know, even as I am known[46]."

Surely more than enough has been now said to prove that this particular

case, from its very nature, furnishes the most abundant and powerful

considerations and means for exciting the feelings; and it might be

contended, without fear of refutation, that by the diligent and habitual

use of those considerations and means, we might with confident

expectation of success, engage in the work of raising our affections

towards our blessed Saviour to a state of due force and activity. But,

blessed be God, we have a still better reliance; for the grand

circumstance of all yet remains behind, which the writer has been led to

defer, from his wish to contend with his opponents on their own ground.

This circumstance is, that here, no less than in other particulars, the

Christian's hope is founded, not on the speculations or the strength of

man, but on the declaration of Him who cannot lie, on the power of

Omnipotence.

We learn from the Scriptures that it is one main part of the operations

of the Holy Spirit, to implant these heavenly principles in the human

mind, and to cherish their growth. We are encouraged to believe that in

answer to our prayers, this aid from above will give efficacy to our

earnest endeavours, if used in humble dependence on divine grace. We may

therefore with confidence take the means which have been suggested. But

let us, in our turn, be permitted to ask our opponents, have _they_

humbly and perseveringly applied for this divine strength? or

disclaiming that assistance, perhaps as tempting them to indolence,

have they been so much the more strenuous and unwearied in the use of

their own unaided endeavours? or rather have they not been equally

negligent of both? Renouncing the one, they have wholly omitted the

other. But this is far from being all. They even reverse all the methods

which we have recommended as being calculated to increase regard; and

exactly follow that course which would be pursued by any one who should

wish to reduce an excessive affection. Yet thus leaving untried all the

means, which, whether from Reason or Scripture, we maintain to be

necessary to the production of the end, nay using such as are of a

directly opposite nature, these men presume to talk to us of

impossibilities! We may rather contend that they furnish a fresh proof

of the soundness of our reasonings. We lay it down as a fundamental

position, that speculative knowledge alone, that mere superficial

cursory considerations, will be of no avail. Nothing is to be done

without the diligent continued use of the appointed method. They

themselves afford an instance of the truth of our assertions; and while

they supply no argument against the efficacy of the mode prescribed,

they acknowledge at least that they are wholly ignorant of any other.

BUT let us now turn our eyes to Christians of a higher order, to those

who have actually proved the truth of our reasonings; who have not only

assumed the name, but who have possessed the substance, and felt the

power of Christianity; who though often foiled by their remaining

corruptions, and shamed and cast down under a sense of their many

imperfections, have known in their better seasons, what it was to

experience its firm hope, its dignified joy, its unshaken trust, its

more than human consolations. In their hearts, love also towards their

Redeemer has glowed; a love not _superficial_ and unmeaning (think not

that this would be the subject of our praise) but constant and rational,

resulting from a strong impression of the worth of its object, and

heightened by an abiding sense of great, unmerited, and continually

accumulating obligations; ever manifesting itself in acts of diligent

obedience, or of patient suffering. Such was the religion of the holy

martyrs of the sixteenth century, the illustrious ornaments of the

English church. They realized the theory which we have now been faintly

tracing. Look to their writings, and you will find that their thoughts

and affections had been much exercised in habitual views of the blessed

Jesus. Thus they used the required _means_. What were the _effects_?

Persecution and distress, degradation and contempt in vain assailed

them--all these evils served but to bring their affections into _closer

contact_ with their object; and not only did their love feel no

diminution or abatement, but it rose to all the exigencies of the

occasion, and burned with an increase of ardor; and when brought forth

at last to a cruel and ignominious death, they repined not at their

fate; but rather rejoiced that they were counted worthy to suffer for

the name of Christ. By the blessing of God the writer might refer to

still more recent times. But lest his authorities should be disputed,

let us go to the Apostles of our Lord; and while, on a very cursory

perusal of their writings, we must acknowledge that they commend and

even prescribe to us the love of Christ, as one of the chief of the

Christian graces; so on a more attentive inspection of those writings,

we shall discover abundant proofs that they were themselves bright

examples of their own precept; that our blessed Saviour was really the

object of their warmest affection, and what he had done and suffered for

them the continual matter of their grateful remembrance.

The disposition so prevalent in the bulk of nominal Christians, to form

a religious system for themselves, instead of taking it from the word of

God, is strikingly observable in their scarcely admitting, except in the

most vague and general sense, the doctrine of the influence of the Holy

Spirit. If we look into the Scriptures for information on this

particular, we learn a very different lesson. We are in them distinctly

taught, that "of ourselves we can do nothing;" that "we are by nature

children of wrath," and under the power of the evil spirit, our

understandings being naturally dark, and our hearts averse from

spiritual things; and we are directed to pray for the influence of the

Holy Spirit to enlighten our understandings, to dissipate our

prejudices, to purify our corrupt minds, and to renew us after the image

of our heavenly Father. It is this influence which is represented as

originally awakening us from slumber, as enlightening us in darkness, as

"quickening us when dead[47]," as "delivering us from the power of the

devil," as drawing us to God, as "translating us into the kingdom of his

dear Son[48]," as "creating us anew in Christ Jesus[49]," as "dwelling

in us, and walking in us[50];" so that "putting off the old man with his

deeds," we are to consider ourselves as "having put on the new man,

which is renewed in knowledge after the image of Him that created

him[51]"; and as those who are to be "an habitation of God through the

Spirit[52]." It is by this Divine assistance only that we can grow in

Grace, and improve in all Holiness. So expressly, particularly, and

repeatedly does the word of God inculcate these lessons, that one would

think there were scarcely room for any difference of opinion among those

who admit its authority. Sometimes[53] the whole of a Christian's

repentance and faith, and consequent holiness, are ascribed _generally_

to the Divine influence; sometimes these are spoken of separately, and

ascribed to the same Almighty power. Sometimes different particular

graces of the Christian character, those which respect our duties and

tempers towards our fellow-creatures, no less than those which have

reference to the Supreme Being, are particularly traced to this source.

Sometimes they are all referred collectively to this common root, being

comprehended under the compendious denomination of "the Fruits of the

Spirit." In exact correspondence with these representations, this aid

from above is promised in other parts of Scripture for the production of

those effects; and the withholding or withdrawing of it is occasionally

threatened as a punishment for the sins of men, and as one of the most

fatal consequences of the Divine displeasure.

The Liturgy of the church of England strictly agrees with the

representation, which has been here given of the instructions of the

word of God.

SECT. IV.

_Inadequate conceptions entertained by nominal Christians of the terms

of acceptance with God._

If then it be indeed as so has been now stated; that, in contradiction

to the plainest dictates of Scripture, and to the ritual of our

established Church, the sanctifying operations of the Holy Spirit, the

first fruits of our reconciliation to God, the purchase of our

Redeemer's death, and his best gift to his true disciples, are too

generally undervalued and slighted; if it be also true, as was formerly

proved, that our thoughts of the blessed Saviour are confused and faint,

our affections towards him languid and lukewarm, little proportioned to

what they, who at such a price have been rescued from ruin, and endowed

with a title to eternal glory, might be justly expected to feel towards

the Author of their deliverance; little proportioned to what has been

felt by others, ransomed from the same ruin, and partakers of the same

inheritance: if this, let it be repeated, be indeed so, let us not shut

our eyes against the perception of our real state; but rather endeavour

to trace the evil to its source. We are loudly called on to _examine

well our foundations_. If any thing be _there_ unsound and hollow, the

superstructure could not be safe, though its exterior were less

suspicious. Let the question then be asked, and let the answer be

returned with all the consideration and solemnity which a question so

important may justly demand, whether, in the grand concern of all, _the

means of a sinner's acceptance with God_, there be not reason to

apprehend, that the nominal Christians whom we have been addressing, too

generally entertain very superficial, and confused, and (to speak in the

softest terms) highly dangerous notions? Is there not cause to fear,

that with little more than an indistinct and nominal reference to Him

who "bore our sins in his own body on the tree," they really rest their

eternal hopes on a vague, general persuasion of the unqualified mercy of

the Supreme Being; or that, still more erroneously, they rely in the

main, on their own negative or positive merits? "They can look upon

their lives with an impartial eye, and congratulate themselves on their

inoffensiveness in society; on their having been exempt, at least, from

any gross vice, or if sometimes accidentally betrayed into it, on its

never having been indulged habitually; or if not even so" (for there are

but few who can say this, if the term vice be explained according to the

strict requisitions of the Gospel) "yet on the balance being in their

favour, or on the whole, not much against them, when their good and bad

actions are fairly weighed, and due allowance is made for human

frailty." These considerations are sufficient for the most part to

compose their apprehensions; these are the cordials which they find most

at hand in the moments of serious thought, or of occasional dejection;

and sometimes perhaps in seasons of less than ordinary self-complacency,

they call in also to their aid the general persuasion of the unbounded

mercy and pity of God. Yet persons of this description by no means

disclaim a Saviour, or avowedly relinquish their title to a share in the

benefits of his death. They close their petitions with the name of

Christ; but if not chiefly from the effect of habit, or out of decent

conformity to the established faith, yet surely with something of the

same ambiguity of principle which influenced the expiring philosopher,

when he ordered the customary mark of homage to be paid to the god of

medicine.

Others go farther than this; for there are many shades of difference

between those who flatly renounce, and those who cordially embrace the

doctrine of Redemption by Christ. This class has a sort of general,

indeterminate, and ill understood dependence on our blessed Saviour. But

their hopes, so far as they can be distinctly made out (for their views

also are very obscure) appear ultimately to bottom on the persuasion

that they are now, through Christ, become members of a new dispensation,

wherein they will be tried by a more lenient rule than that to which

they must have been otherwise subject. "God will not now be extreme to

mark what is done amiss; but will dispense with the rigorous exactions

of his law, too strict indeed for such frail creatures as we are to hope

that we can fulfil it. Christianity has moderated the requisitions of

Divine Justice; and all which is now required of us, is thankfully to

trust to the merits of Christ for the pardon of our sins, and the

acceptance of our sincere though imperfect obedience. The frailties and

infirmities to which our nature is liable, or to which our situation in

life exposes us, will not be severely judged: and as it is practice that

really determines the character, we may rest satisfied, that if on the

whole our lives be tolerably good, we shall escape with little or no

punishment, and through Jesus Christ our Lord, shall be finally

partakers of heavenly felicity."

We cannot dive into the human heart, and therefore should always speak

with caution and diffidence, when from external appearances or

declarations we are affirming the existence of any internal principles

and feelings; especially as we are liable to be misled by the

ambiguities of language, or by the inaccuracy with which others may

express themselves. But it is sometimes not difficult to any one who is

accustomed, if the phrase may be allowed, to the anatomy of the human

mind, to discern, that generally speaking, the persons who use the above

language, rely not so much on the merits of Christ, and on the agency of

Divine Grace, as on their own power of fulfilling the moderated

requisitions of Divine Justice. He will hence therefore discover in them

a disposition rather to extenuate the malignity of their disease, than

to magnify the excellence of the proffered remedy. He will find them apt

to palliate in themselves what they cannot fully justify, to enhance the

merit of what they believe to be their good qualities and commendable

actions, to set as it were in an account the good against the bad; and

if the result be not very unfavourable, they conceive that they shall be

entitled to claim the benefits of our Saviour's sufferings as a thing of

course. They have little idea, so little, that it might almost be

affirmed that they have no idea at all, of the importance or difficulty

of the duty of what the Scripture calls "submitting ourselves to the

righteousness of God;" or of our proneness rather to justify ourselves

in his sight, than in the language of imploring penitents to acknowledge

ourselves guilty and helpless sinners. They have never summoned

themselves to this entire and unqualified renunciation of their own

merits, and their own strength; and therefore they remain strangers to

the natural loftiness of the human heart, which such a call would have

awakened into action, and roused to resistance. ALL THESE THEIR SEVERAL

ERRORS NATURALLY RESULT FROM THE MISTAKEN CONCEPTION ENTERTAINED OF THE

FUNDAMENTAL PRINCIPLES OF CHRISTIANITY. They consider not that

Christianity is a scheme for "justifying _the ungodly_[54]," by Christ's

dying for them "_when yet sinners_[55][56];" a scheme "for reconciling

us to God--_when enemies_;" and for making the fruits of holiness _the

effects[57], not the cause_, of our being justified and reconciled:

that, in short, it opens freely the door of mercy, to the greatest and

vilest of penitent sinners; that obeying the blessed impulse of the

grace of God, whereby they had been awakened from the sleep of death,

and moved to seek for pardon, they might enter in, and through the

regenerating influence of the Holy Spirit might be enabled to bring

forth the fruits of Righteousness. But they rather conceive of

Christianity as opening the door of mercy, that those who on the ground

of their own merits could not have hoped to justify themselves before

God, may yet be admitted for Christ's sake, on condition of their having

previously satisfied the moderated requisitions of Divine Justice. In

speaking to others also of the Gospel scheme, they are apt to talk too

much of terms and performances on our part, on which we become entitled

to an interest in the sufferings of Christ; instead of stating the

benefits of Christ's satisfaction as extended to us freely, "without

money and without price."

THE _practical_ consequences of these errors are such as might be

expected. They tend to prevent that sense which we ought to entertain of

our own natural misery and helplessness; and that deep feeling of

gratitude for the merits and intercession of Christ, to which we are

wholly indebted for our reconciliation to God, and for the will and the

power, from first to last, to work out our own salvation. They consider

it too much in the light of a contract between two parties, wherein

each, independently of the other, has his own distinct condition to

perform; man--to do his duty; God--to justify and accept for Christ's

sake: If they fail not in the discharge of their condition, assuredly

the condition on God's part will be faithfully fulfilled. Accordingly,

we find in fact, that they who represent the Gospel scheme in the manner

above described, give evidence of the subject with which their hearts

are most filled, by their proneness to run into merely moral

disquisitions, either not mentioning at all, or at least but cursorily

touching on the sufferings and love of their Redeemer; and are little

apt to kindle at their Saviour's name, and like the apostles to be

betrayed by their fervor into what may be almost an untimely descant on

the riches of his unutterable mercy. In addressing others also whom they

conceive to be living in habits of sin, and under the wrath of God, they

rather advise them to amend their ways as a preparation for their coming

to Christ, than exhort them to throw themselves with deep prostration of

soul at the foot of the cross, there to obtain pardon and find grace to

help in time of need.

The great importance of the subject in question will justify our having

been thus particular. It has arisen from a wish that on a question of

such magnitude, to mistake our meaning should be impossible. But after

all which has been said, let it also be remembered, that except so far

as the instruction of others is concerned, the point of importance is,

the internal disposition of the mind; _where_ the dependence for pardon,

and for holiness, is really placed; not what the language is, in which

men express themselves. And it is to be hoped that he who searches the

heart, sees the right dispositions in many who use the mistaken and

dangerous language to which we have objected.

If this so generally prevailing error concerning the nature of the

Gospel offer be in any considerable degree just; it will then explain

that so generally prevailing languor in the affections towards our

blessed Saviour which was formerly remarked, and that inadequate

impression of the necessity and value of the assistance of the divine

Spirit. According to the soundest principles of reasoning, it may be

also adduced as an additional proof of the correctness of our present

statement, that it so exactly falls in with those phaenomena, and so

naturally accounts for them. For even admitting that the persons above

mentioned, particularly the last class, do at the bottom rely on the

atonement of Christ; yet on their scheme, it must necessarily happen,

that the object to which they are most accustomed to look, with which

their thoughts are chiefly conversant, from which they most habitually

derive complacency, is rather their own qualified merit and services,

though confessed to be inadequate, than the sufferings and atoning death

of a crucified Saviour. The affections towards our blessed Lord

therefore (according to the theory of the passions formerly laid down)

cannot be expected to flourish, because they receive not that which was

shewn to be necessary to their nutriment and growth. If we would love

him as affectionately, and rejoice in him as triumphantly as the first

Christians did; we must learn like them to repose our entire trust in

him, and to adopt the language of the apostle, "God forbid that I should

glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ[58]"--"Who of God is

made unto us wisdom and righteousness, and sanctification, and

redemption[59]."

Doubtless there have been too many who, to their eternal ruin, have

abused the doctrine of Salvation by Grace; and have vainly trusted in

Christ for pardon and acceptance, when by their vicious lives they have

plainly proved the groundlessness of their pretensions. The tree is to

be known by its fruits; and there is too much reason to fear that there

is no principle of faith, when it does not decidedly evince itself by

the fruits of holiness. Dreadful indeed will be the doom, above that of

all others, of those loose professors of Christianity, to whom at the

last day our blessed Saviour will address those words, "I never knew

you; depart from me, all ye that work iniquity." But the danger of error

on this side ought not to render us insensible to the opposite error; an

error against which in these days it seems particularly necessary to

guard. It is far from the intention of the writer of this work to enter

into the niceties of controversy. But surely without danger of being

thought to violate this design, he may be permitted to contend, that

they who in the main believe the doctrines of the church of England, are

bound to allow that our dependence on our blessed Saviour, as alone the

meritorious cause of our acceptance with God, and as the means of all

its blessed fruits and glorious consequences, must be not merely formal

and nominal, but real and substantial: not vague, qualified, and

partial, but direct, cordial, and entire. "Repentance towards God, and

faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ," was the sum of the apostolical

instructions. It is not an occasional invocation of the name, or a

transient recognition of the authority of Christ, that fills up the

measure of the terms, _believing in Jesus_. This we shall find no such

easy task; and if we trust that we do believe, we should all perhaps do

well to cry out in the words of an imploring suppliant (he supplicated

not in vain) "Lord help thou our unbelief." We must be deeply conscious

of our guilt and misery, heartily repenting of our sins, and firmly

resolving to forsake them: and thus penitently "fleeing for refuge to

the hope set before us," we must found altogether on the merit of the

crucified Redeemer our hopes of escape from their deserved punishment,

and of deliverance from their enslaving power. This must be our first,

our last, our only plea. We are to surrender ourselves up to him to "be

washed in his blood[60]," to be sanctified by his Spirit, resolving to

receive him for our Lord and Master, to learn in his school, to obey all

his commandments.

It may perhaps be not unnecessary, after having treated so largely on

this important topic, to add a few words in order to obviate a charge

which may be urged against us, that we are insisting on nice and

abstruse distinctions in what is a matter of general concern; and this

too in a system, which on its original promulgation was declared to be

peculiarly intended for the simple and poor. It will be abundantly

evident however on a little reflection, and experience fully proves the

position, that what has been required is not the perception of a subtile

distinction, but a state and condition of heart. To the former, the poor

and the ignorant must be indeed confessed unequal; but they are far less

indisposed than the great and the learned, to bow down to that

"preaching of the cross which is to them that perish foolishness, but

unto them that are saved the power of God, and the wisdom of God." The

poor are not liable to be puffed up by the intoxicating fumes of

ambition and worldly grandeur. They are less likely to be kept from

entering into the strait and narrow way, and when they have entered to

be drawn back again or to be retarded in their progress, by the cares or

the pleasures of life. They may express themselves ill; but their views

may be simple, and their hearts humble, penitent, and sincere. It is as

in other cases; the vulgar are the subjects of phaenomena, the learned

explain them: the former know nothing of the theory of vision or of

sentiment; but this ignorance hinders not that they see and think, and

though unable to discourse elaborately on the passions, they can feel

warmly for their children, their friends, their country.

After this digression, if that be indeed a digression which by removing

a formidable objection renders the truth of the positions we wish to

establish more clear and less questionable, we may now resume the thread

of our argument. Still intreating therefore the attention of those, who

have not been used to think much of the necessity of this undivided,

and, if it may be so termed, unadulterated reliance, for which we have

been contending; we would still more particularly address ourselves to

others who are disposed to believe that though, in some obscure and

vague sense, the death of Christ as the satisfaction for our sins, and

for the purchase of our future happiness, and the sanctifying influence

of the Holy Spirit, are to be admitted as fundamental articles of our

creed, yet that these are doctrines so much above us, that they are not

objects suited to our capacities; and that, turning our eyes therefore

from these difficult speculations, we should fix them on the practical

and moral precepts of the Gospel. "These it most concerns us to know;

these therefore let us study. Such is the frailty of our nature, such

the strength and number of our temptations to evil, that in reducing the

Gospel morality to practice we shall find full employment: and by

attending to these moral precepts, rather than to those high mysterious

doctrines which you are pressing on us, we shall best prepare to appear

before God on that tremendous day, when 'He shall judge every man

according to his WORKS.'"

"Vain wisdom all, and false philosophy!"

It will at once destroy this flimsy web, to reply in the words of our

blessed Saviour, and of his beloved Disciple--"This is the _work_ of

God, that ye _believe_ in him whom he hath sent[61]." "This is his

_commandment_, that we should _believe_ on the name of his Son Jesus

Christ[62]." In truth, if we consider but for a moment the opinions

(they scarcely deserve the name of system) of men who argue thus, we

must be conscious of their absurdity. This may be not inconsistently the

language of the modern Unitarian; but surely it is in the highest degree

unreasonable to admit into our scheme all the grand peculiarities of

Christianity, and having admitted, to neglect and think no more of them!

"Wherefore" (might the Socinian say) "Wherefore all this costly and

complicated machinery? It is like the Tychonic astronomy, encumbered and

self-convicted by its own complicated relations and useless

perplexities. It is so little like the simplicity of nature, it is so

unworthy of the divine hand, that it even offends against those rules of

propriety which we require to be observed in the imperfect compositions

of the human intellect[63]."

Well may the Socinian assume this lofty tone, with those whom we are now

addressing. If these be indeed the doctrines of Revelation, common sense

suggests to us that from their nature and their magnitude, they deserve

our most serious regard. It is the very theology of Epicurus to allow

the existence of these "heavenly things," but to deny their connection

with human concerns, and their influence on human actions. Besides the

unreasonableness of this conduct, we might strongly urge also in this

connection the prophaneness of thus treating as matters of subordinate

consideration those parts of the system of Christianity, which are so

strongly impressed on our reverence by the dignity of the person to whom

they relate. This very argument is indeed repeatedly and pointedly

pressed by the sacred writers[64].

Nor is the prophane irreverence of this conduct more striking than its

ingratitude. When from reading that our Saviour was "the brightness of

his Father's glory, and the express image of his person, upholding all

things by the word of his power," we go on to consider the purpose for

which he came on earth, and all that he did and suffered for us; surely

if we have a spark of ingenuousness left within us, we shall condemn

ourselves as guilty of the blackest ingratitude, in rarely noticing, or

coldly turning away, on whatever shallow pretences, from the

contemplation of these miracles of mercy. For those baser minds however

on which fear alone can operate, that motive is superadded: and we are

plainly forewarned, both directly and indirectly, by the example of the

Jewish nation, that God will not hold them guiltless who are thus

unmindful of his most signal acts of condescension and kindness. But as

this is a question of pure Revelation, reasonings from probability may

not be deemed decisive. To Revelation therefore we must appeal; and as

it might be to trespass on the reader's patience fully to discuss this

most important subject, we must refer him to the sacred Writings

themselves for complete satisfaction. We would earnestly recommend it to

him to weigh with the utmost seriousness those passages of Scripture

wherein the peculiar doctrines of Christianity are expressly mentioned;

and farther, to attend with due regard to the illustration and

confirmation, which the conclusions resulting from those passages

receive incidentally from the word of God. They who maintain the opinion

which we are combating, will hereby become convinced that their's is

indeed an _unscriptural_ Religion; and will learn instead of turning off

their eyes from the grand peculiarities of Christianity, to keep these

ever in view, as the pregnant principles whence all the rest must derive

their origin, and receive their best support[65].

Let us then each for himself solemnly ask ourselves, whether _we_ have

fled for refuge to the appointed hope? And whether we are habitually

looking to it, as to the only source of consolation? "Other foundation

can no man lay:" there is no other ground of dependence, no other plea

for pardon; but _here_ there _is_ hope, even to the uttermost. Let us

labour then to affect our hearts with a deep conviction of our need of a

Redeemer, and of the value of his offered mediation. Let us fall down

humbly before the throne of God, imploring pity and pardon in the name

of the Son of his love. Let us beseech him to give us a true spirit of

repentance, and of hearty undivided faith in the Lord Jesus. Let us not

be satisfied till the cordiality of our belief be confirmed to us by

that character of the Apostle, "that to as many as believe Christ is

precious;" and let us strive to increase daily in _love_ towards our

blessed Saviour; and pray earnestly that "we may be filled with _Joy_

and _Peace_ in believing, that we may abound in _Hope_ through the power

of the Holy Ghost." Let us diligently put in practice the directions

formerly given for cherishing and cultivating the principle of the Love

of Christ. With this view let us labour assiduously to increase in

knowledge, that ours may be a deeply rooted and rational affection. By

frequent meditation on the incidents of our Saviour's life, and still

more on the astonishing circumstances of his death; by often calling to

mind the state from which he proposes to rescue us, and the glories of

his heavenly kingdom; by continual intercourse with him of prayer and

praise, of dependence and confidence in dangers, of hope and joy in our

brighter hours, let us endeavour to keep him constantly present to our

minds, and to render all our conceptions of him more distinct, lively,

and intelligent. The title of Christian is a reproach to us, if we

estrange ourselves from Him after whom we are denominated. The name of

Jesus is not to be to _us_ like the Allah of the Mahometans, a talisman

or an amulet to be worn on the arm, as an external badge merely and

symbol of our profession, and to preserve us from evil by some

mysterious and unintelligible potency; but it is to be engraven deeply

on the heart, there written by the finger of God himself in everlasting

characters. It is our title known and understood to present peace and

future glory. The assurance which it conveys of a bright reversion, will

lighten the burthens, and alleviate the sorrows of life; and in some

happier moments, it will impart to us somewhat of that fulness of joy

which is at God's right hand, enabling us to join even here in the

heavenly Hosannah, "Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to receive power,

and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and

blessing[66]." "Blessing, and honour, and glory, and power, be unto him

that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever[67]."

CHAPTER IV.

_On the prevailing inadequate Conceptions concerning the Nature and the

Strictness of_ PRACTICAL _Christianity._

SECT. I.

One part of this title may perhaps on the first view excite some

surprise in any one, who may have drawn a hasty inference from the

charges conveyed by the two preceding chapters. Such an one might be

disposed to expect, that they who have very low conceptions of the

corruption of human nature, would be proportionably less indulgent to

human frailty; and that they who lay little stress on Christ's

satisfaction for sin, or on the operations of the Holy Spirit, would be

more high and rigid in their demands of diligent endeavours after

universal holiness; since their scheme implies that we must depend

chiefly on our own exertions and performances for our acceptance with

God.

But any such expectations as these would be greatly disappointed. There

is in fact a region of truth, and a region of errors. They who hold the

fundamental doctrines of Scripture in their due force, hold also in its

due degree of purity the practical system which Scripture inculcates.

But they who explain away the former, soften down the latter also, and

reduce it to the level of their own defective scheme. It is not from any

confidence in the superior amount of their own performances, or in the

greater vigour of their own exertions, that they reconcile themselves to

their low views of the satisfaction of Christ, and of the influence of

the Spirit; but it should rather seem their plan so to depress the

required standard of practice, that no man need fall short of it, that

no superior aid can be wanted for enabling us to attain to it. It

happens however with respect to their simple method of morality, as in

the case of the short ways to knowledge, of which some vain pretenders

have vaunted themselves to be possessed: despising the beaten track in

which more sober and humble spirits have been content to tread, they

have indignantly struck into new and untried paths; but these have

failed of conducting them to the right object, and have issued only in

ignorance and conceit.

It seems in our days to be the commonly received opinion, that provided

a man admit in general terms the truth of Christianity, though he know

not or consider not much concerning the particulars of the system; and

if he be not habitually guilty of any of the grosser vices against his

fellow creatures, we have no great reason to be dissatisfied with him,

or to question the validity of his claim to the name and consequent

privileges of a Christian. The title implies no more than a sort of

formal, general assent to Christianity in the gross, and a degree of

morality in practice, but little if at all superior to that for which we

look in a good Deist, Mussulman, or Hindoo.

If any one be disposed to deny that this is a fair representation of the

religion of the bulk of the Christian world, he might be asked, whether

if it were proved to them beyond dispute that Christianity is a mere

forgery, would this occasion any great change in their conduct or habits

of mind? Would any alteration be made in consequence of this discovery,

except in a few of their speculative opinions, which, when distinct from

practice, it is a part of their own system, as has been before remarked,

to think of little consequence, and in their attendance on public

worship, which however (knowing the good effects of religion upon the

lower orders of the people) they might still think it better to attend

occasionally for example's sake? Would not their regard for their

character, their health, their domestic and social comforts, still

continue to restrain them from vicious excesses, and to prompt them to

persist in the discharge, according to their present measure, of the

various duties of their stations? Would they find themselves

dispossessed of what had been to them hitherto the repository of counsel

and instruction, the rule of their conduct, their habitual source of

peace, and hope, and consolation?

It were needless to put these questions. They are answered in fact

already by the lives of many known unbelievers, between whom and these

professed Christians, even the familiar associates of both, though men

of discernment and observation, would discover little difference either

in conduct or temper of mind. How little then does Christianity deserve

that title to novelty and superiority which has been almost universally

admitted; that pre-eminence, as a practical code, over all other systems

of ethics! How unmerited are the praises which have been lavished upon

it by its friends; praises, in which even its enemies (not in general

disposed to make concessions in its favour) have so often been unwarily

drawn in to acquiesce!

Was it then for this, that the Son of God condescended to become our

instructor and our pattern, leaving us an example that we might tread in

his steps? Was it for this that the apostles of Christ voluntarily

submitted to hunger and nakedness and pain, and ignominy and death, when

forewarned too by their Master that such would be their treatment? That,

after all, their disciples should attain to no higher a strain of virtue

than those who rejecting their Divine authority, should still adhere to

the old philosophy?

But it may perhaps be objected that we are forgetting an observation

which we ourselves have made, that Christianity has raised the general

standard of morals; to which therefore Infidelity herself now finds it

prudent to conform, availing herself of the pure morality of

Christianity, and sometimes wishing to usurp to herself the credit of

it, while she stigmatizes the authors with the epithets of ignorant

dupes or designing impostors!

But let it then be asked, are the motives of Christianity so little

necessary to the practice of it, its principles to its conclusions, that

the one may be spared and yet the other remain in undiminished force?

Still then, its _Doctrines_ are no more than a barren and inapplicable

or at least an unnecessary theory, the place of which, it may perhaps be

added, would be well supplied by a more simple and less costly scheme.

But can it be? Is Christianity then reduced to a mere creed? Is its

practical influence bounded within a few external plausibilities? Does

its essence consist only in a few speculative opinions, and a few

useless and unprofitable tenets? And can this be the ground of that

portentous distinction, which is so unequivocally made by the Evangelist

between those who accept, and those who reject the Gospel: "He that

believeth on the Son, hath everlasting life: and he that believeth not

the Son, shall not see life: but the wrath of God abideth on him?" This

were to run into the very error which the bulk of professed Christians

would be most forward to condemn, of making an unproductive faith the

rule of God's future judgment, and the ground of an eternal separation.

Thus not unlike the rival circumnavigators from Spain and Portugal, who

setting out in contrary directions, found themselves in company at the

very time they thought themselves farthest from each other; so the bulk

of professed Christians arrive, though by a different course, almost at

the very same point, and occupy nearly the same station as a set of

enthusiasts, who also rest upon a barren faith, to whom on the first

view they might be thought the most nearly opposite, and whose tenets

they with reason profess to hold in peculiar detestation. By what

pernicious courtesy of language is it, that this wretched system has

been flattered with the name of Christianity.

The morality of the Gospel is not so slight a fabric. Christianity

throughout the whole extent exhibits proofs of its Divine original, and

its practical precepts are no less pure than its doctrines are sublime.

Can the compass of language furnish injunctions stricter in their

measure or larger in their comprehension, than those with which the word

of God abounds; "_Whatsoever_ ye do in _word_ or _deed_, do _all_ in the

name of the Lord Jesus;"--"Be _ye_ holy, _for God is holy_:"--"Be ye

_perfect_ as your Father which is in Heaven is _perfect_?" We are

commanded to _perfect_ holiness, to go on unto _perfection_.

Such are the Scripture admonitions; and surely they to whom such

admonitions are addressed, may not safely acquiesce in low attainments:

a conclusion to which also we are led by the force of the expressions by

which Christians are characterized in Scripture, and by the radical and

thorough change, which is represented as taking place in any man on his

becoming a real Christian. "Every one," it is said, "that hath this

hope, purifieth himself even as God is pure:" true Christians are said

to be "partakers of the Divine nature;"--"to be created anew in the

image of God;"--"to be temples of the Holy Ghost;" the effects of which

must appear "in _all_ goodness and righteousness and truth."

Great as was the progress which the apostle Paul had made in all virtue,

he declares of himself that _he_ still presses forward, "forgetting the

things which are behind, and reaching forth unto the things which are

before." He prays for his beloved disciples, "that they may be _filled_

with _all_ the fulness of God;" that they may be _filled_ "with the

fruits of righteousness:" "that they might walk worthy of the Lord unto

_all_ pleasing, being fruitful in _every_ good work." Nor is it a less

pregnant and comprehensive petition, which, from our blessed Saviour's

inserting it in that form of prayer which he has given as a model for

our imitation, we may infer ought to be the habitual sentiment of our

hearts; "Thy will be done in Earth _as it is in Heaven_."

These few extracts from the word of God will serve abundantly to

vindicate the _strictness_ of the Christian morality: but this point

will however be still more fully established, when we proceed to

investigate the _nature_, _essence_, and _governing principles_ of the

Christian character.

It is the grand essential practical characteristic of true Christians,

that relying on the promises to repenting sinners of acceptance through

the Redeemer, they have renounced and abjured all other masters, and

have cordially and unreservedly devoted themselves to God. This is

indeed the very figure which baptism daily represents to us: like the

father of Hannibal, we there bring our infant to the altar, we

consecrate him to the service of _his proper owner_, and vow _in his

name_ eternal hostilities against all the enemies of his salvation.

After the same manner Christians are become the sworn enemies of sin;

they will henceforth hold no parley with it, they will allow it in no

shape, they will admit it to no composition; the war which they have

denounced against it, is cordial, universal, irreconcilable.

But this not all--It is now their determined purpose to yield themselves

without reserve to the reasonable service of their rightful Sovereign.

"They are not their own:"--their bodily and mental faculties, their

natural and acquired endowments, their substance, their authority, their

time, their influence; all these, they consider as belonging to them,

not for their own gratification, but as so many instruments to be

consecrated to the honour and employed in the service of God. This must

be the master principle to which every other must be subordinate.

Whatever may have been hitherto their ruling passion; whatever hitherto

their leading pursuit; whether sensual, or intellectual, of science, of

taste, of fancy, or of feeling, it must now possess but a secondary

place; or rather (to speak more correctly) it must exist only at the

pleasure, and be put altogether under the controul and direction, of its

true and legitimate superior.

Thus it is the prerogative of Christianity "to bring into captivity

_every thought_ to the obedience of Christ." They who really feel its

power, are resolved (in the language of Scripture) "to live no longer to

themselves, but to him that died for them;" they know indeed their own

infirmities; they know, that the way on which they have entered is

strait and difficult, but they know too the encouraging assurance,

"They who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength;" and relying on

this animating declaration, they deliberately purpose that, so far as

they may be able, the grand governing maxim of their future lives shall

be, "_to do all to the glory of God_."

Behold here the seminal principle, which contains within it, as in an

embryo state, the rudiments of all true virtue; which, striking deep its

roots, though feeble perhaps and lowly in its beginnings, silently

progressive; and almost insensibly maturing, yet will shortly, even in

the bleak and churlish temperature of this world, lift up its head and

spread abroad its branches, bearing abundant fruits; precious fruits of

refreshment and consolation, of which the boasted products of philosophy

are but sickly imitations, void of fragrance and of flavour. But,

Igneus est ollis vigor & _coelestis_ origo.

At length it shall be transplanted into its native region, and enjoy a

more genial climate, and a kindlier soil; and, bursting forth into full

luxuriance, with unfading beauty and unexhausted odours, shall flourish

for ever in the paradise of God.

But while the servants of Christ continue in this life, glorious as is

the issue of their labours, they receive but too many humiliating

memorials of their remaining imperfections, and they daily find reason

to confess, that they cannot do the things that they would. Their

_determination_, however, is still unshaken, and it is the fixed desire

of their hearts to improve in _all holiness_--and this, let it be

observed, on many accounts. Various passions concur to push them

forward; they are urged on by the dread of failure, in this arduous but

necessary work; they trust not, where their all is at stake, to lively

emotions, or to internal impressions however warm; the example of Christ

is their pattern, the word of God is their rule; there they read, that

"without holiness no man shall see the Lord." It is the description of

real Christians, that "they are gradually changed into the image of

their Divine Master;" and they dare not allow themselves to believe

their title sure, except so far as they can discern in themselves the

growing traces of this blessed resemblance.

It is not merely however the fear of misery, and the desire of

happiness, by which they are actuated in their endeavours to excel in

all holiness; they love it for its own sake: nor is it _solely_ by the

sense of self-interest (this, though often unreasonably condemned, is

but it must be confessed a principle of an inferior order) that they are

influenced in their determination to obey the will, and to cultivate the

favour of God. This determination has its foundations indeed in a deep

and humiliating sense of his exalted Majesty and infinite power, and of

their own extreme inferiority and littleness, attended with a settled

conviction of its being their duty as his creatures, to submit in all

things to the will of their great Creator. But these awful impressions

are relieved and ennobled by an admiring sense of the infinite

perfections and infinite amiableness of the Divine Character; animated

by a confiding though humble hope of his fatherly kindness and

protection; and quickened by the grateful recollection of immense and

continually increasing obligations. This is the Christian love of God! A

love compounded of admiration, of preference, of hope, of trust, of

joy; chastised by reverential awe, and wakeful with continual gratitude.

I would here express myself with caution, lest I should inadvertently

wound the heart of some weak but sincere believer. The elementary

principles which have been above enumerated, may exist in various

degrees and proportions. A difference in natural disposition, in the

circumstances of the past life, and in numberless other particulars, may

occasion a great difference in the predominant tempers of different

Christians. In one the love, in another the fear of God may have the

ascendency; trust in one, and in another gratitude; but in greater or

less degrees, a cordial complacency in the sovereignty, an exalted sense

of the perfections, a grateful impression of the goodness, and a humble

hope of the favour of the Divine Being, are common to them

all.--Common--the determination to devote themselves without exceptions,

to the service and glory of God.--Common--the desire of holiness and of

continual progress towards perfection.--Common--an abasing consciousness

of their own unworthiness, and of their many remaining infirmities,

which interpose so often to corrupt the simplicity of their intentions,

to thwart the execution of their purer purposes, and frustrate the

resolutions of their better hours.

But some perhaps, who will not directly and in the gross oppose the

conclusions for which we have been contending, may endeavour to elude

them. It may be urged, that to represent them as of general application,

is going much too far; and however true in the case of some individuals

of a higher order, it may be asserted they are not applicable to

ordinary Christians; from these so much will not surely be expected; and

here perhaps there may be a secret reference to that supposed

mitigation of the requisitions of the divine Law under the Christian

dispensation, which was formerly noticed. This is so important a point

that it ought not to be passed over: let us call in the authority of

Scripture; at the same time, not to tire the patience of our readers,

but a few passages shall be cited, and we must refer to the word of God

itself those who wish for fuller satisfaction. The difficulty here is

not to find proofs, but to select with discretion from the multitude

which pour in upon us. Here also, as in former instances, the positive

injunctions of Scripture are confirmed and illustrated by various

considerations and inferences, suggested by other parts of the sacred

Writings, all tending to the same infallible conclusion.

In the first place, the precepts are expressed in the broadest and most

general terms; there is no hint given, that any persons are at liberty

to conceive themselves exempted from the obligation of them; and in any

who are disposed to urge such a plea of exemption, it may well excite

the most serious apprehension to consider how the plea would be received

by an earthly tribunal: no weak argument this to any who are acquainted

with the Scriptures, and who know how often God is there represented as

reasoning with mankind on the principles, which they have established

for their dealings with each other.

But in the next place the precepts in question contain within themselves

abundant proofs of their _universal_ application, inasmuch as they are

grounded on circumstances and relations common to _all_ Christians, and

of the benefits of which, even our Objectors themselves (though they

would evade the practical deductions from them) would not be willing to

relinquish their share. Christians "are not their own," because "_they

are bought with a price_;" they are not "to live unto themselves, but

_to him that died for them_;" they are commanded to do the most

difficult duties, "that they may be the children of their Father which

is in heaven;" and "except a man _be born again of the Spirit_" (thus

again becoming one of the sons of God) "_he cannot enter into the

kingdom of heaven_." It is "_because they are sons_," that God has given

them what in Scripture language is styled _the Spirit of adoption_. It

is only of "as many _as are led by the Spirit of God_," that it is

declared that "they are the sons of God;" and we are expressly warned

(in order as it were to prevent any such loose profession of

Christianity as that which we are here combating) "_If any man_ have not

the Spirit of Christ, _he is none of his_." In short, Christians in

general are every where denominated _the servants and the children_ of

God, and are required to serve him with that submissive obedience, and

that affectionate promptitude of duty, which belong to those endearing

relations.

Estimate next, the force of that well known passage--"Thou shalt love

the Lord thy God with _all_ thy heart, and with _all_ thy mind, and with

_all_ thy soul, and with _all_ thy strength!" The injunction is

multiplied on us, as it were, to silence the sophistry of the caviller,

and to fix the most inconsiderate mind. And though, for the sake of

argument, we should concede for the present, that, under _the

qualifications formerly suggested_, an _ardent_ and _vigorous_ affection

were not indispensably required of us; yet surely if the words have any

meaning at all, the least which can be intended by them is that settled

predominant esteem and cordial preference for which we are now

contending. The conclusion which this passage forces on us, is

strikingly confirmed by other parts of Scripture, wherein the love of

God is positively commended to the _whole_ of a Christian church[68]; or

wherein the want of it[69], or wherein its not being the chief and

ruling affection, is charged on persons professing themselves

Christians, as being sufficient to disprove their claim to that

appellation, or as being equivalent to denying it[70]. Let not therefore

any deceive themselves by imagining, that only an absolute unqualified

renunciation of the desire of the favour of God is _here_ condemned. God

will not accept of a _divided_ affection; a _single_ heart, and a

_single_ eye are in express terms declared to be indispensably required

of us. We are ordered, under the figure of amassing heavenly treasure,

to make the favour and service of God our _chief_ pursuit, for this very

reason, because "_where our treasure is, there will our hearts be

also_." It is on this principle that in speaking of particular vices,

such phrases are often used in Scripture, as suggest that their

criminality mainly consists in drawing away the HEART from Him who is

the just object of its preference; and that sins, which we might think

very different in criminality, are classed together, because they all

agree in this grand character. Nor is this preference asserted only over

affections which are vicious in themselves, and to which therefore

Christianity might well be supposed hostile; but over those also which

in their just measure are not only lawful, but even most strongly

enjoined on us. "He that loveth father and mother more than me," says

our blessed Saviour, "is not worthy of me;" "and he that loveth son or

daughter more than me, is not worthy of me[71]." The spirit of these

injunctions harmonizes with many commendations in Scripture of zeal for

the honour of God; as well as with that strong expression of disgust and

abhorrence with which the lukewarm, those that are neither cold nor hot,

are spoken of as being more loathsome and offensive than even open and

avowed enemies.

Another class of instances tending to the same point is furnished by

those many passages of Scripture, wherein the promoting of _the glory_

of God is commanded as our supreme and universal aim, and wherein the

honour due unto _Him_ is declared to be that in which He will allow no

competitor to participate. On this head indeed the Holy Scriptures are,

if possible, more peremptory than on the former; and at the same time so

full as to render particular citations unnecessary, in the case of any

one who has ever so little acquaintance with the word of God.

To put the same thing therefore in another light. All who have read the

Scriptures must confess that idolatry is the crime against which God's

highest resentment is expressed, and his severest punishment denounced.

But let us not deceive ourselves. It is not in bowing the knee to idols

that idolatry consists, so much as in the internal homage of the heart;

as in the feeling towards them of any of that supreme love, or

reverence, or gratitude, which God reserves to himself as his own

exclusive prerogative. On the same principle, whatever else draws off

the heart from him, engrosses our prime regard, and holds the chief

place in our esteem and affections, _that_, in the estimation of reason,

is no less an idol to us, than an image of wood or stone would be;

before which we should fall down and worship. Think not this a strained

analogy; it is the very language and argument of inspiration. The

servant of God is commanded not to set up his idol in his _Heart_; and

sensuality and covetousness are repeatedly termed _Idolatry_. The same

God who declares--"My glory will I not give to another, neither my

praise _to graven images_," declares also--"Let not the wise man glory

in his wisdom, neither let the mighty man _glory_ in his might; let not

the rich man _glory_ in his riches[72]." "No flesh may _glory_ in his

presence;" "he that _glorieth_, let him glory in the Lord." The sudden

vengeance by which the vain-glorious ostentation of Herod was punished,

when, acquiescing in the servile adulation of an admiring multitude, "he

gave not God the _glory_," is a dreadful comment on these injunctions.

These awful declarations, it is to be feared, are little regarded. Let

the Great, and the Wise, and the Learned, and the Successful lay them

seriously to heart, and labour habitually to consider their superiority,

whether derived from nature, or study, or fortune, as the unmerited

bounty of God. This reflection will naturally tend to produce a

disposition, instead of that proud self complacency so apt to grow upon

the human heart, in all respects opposite to it; a disposition

honourable to God, and useful to man, a temper composed of reverence,

humility, and gratitude, and delighting to be engaged in the praises,

and employed in the benevolent service of the universal Benefactor.

But, to return to our subject, it only remains to be remarked, that here

as in the former instances, the characters of the righteous and of the

wicked, as delineated in Scripture, exactly correspond with the

representations which have been given of the Scripture injunctions.

The necessity of this cordial unreserved devotedness to the glory and

service of God, as being indispensable to the character of the true

Christian, has been insisted on at the greater length, not only on

account of its own extreme importance, but also because it appears to be

a duty too generally overlooked. Once well established, it will serve as

a fundamental principle both for the government of the heart and

regulation of the conduct; and will prove eminently useful in the

decision of many practical cases, which it might be difficult to bring

under the undisputed operation of any subordinate or appropriate rule.

SECT. II.

And now, having endeavoured to establish the strictness, and to

ascertain the essential character of true practical Christianity, let us

investigate a little more in detail the practical system of the bulk of

professed Christians among ourselves[73].

It was formerly remarked, that the whole subject of Religion was often

viewed from such a distance as to be seen only in the gross. We now, it

is to be feared, shall find too much cause for believing that they who

approach a little nearer, and do discover in Christianity somewhat of a

distinct form, yet come not close enough to discern her peculiar

lineaments and conformation. The writer must not be understood to mean

that the several misconceptions, which he shall have occasion to point

out, will be generally found to exist with any thing like precision,

much less that they are regularly digested into a system; nor will it be

expected they all should meet in the same person, nor that they will not

be found in different people, and under different circumstances,

variously blended, combined, and modified. It will be enough if we

succeed in tracing out great and general outlines. The human countenance

may be well described by its general characters, though infinitely

varied by the peculiarities which belong to different individuals, and

often by such shades and minutenesses of difference, as though

abundantly obvious to our perceptions, it would exceed the power of

definition to discriminate, or even of language to express.

A very erroneous notion appears to prevail concerning the true nature of

Religion. Religion, agreeably to what has been already stated, (the

importance of the subject will excuse repetition) may be considered as

the implantation of a vigorous and active principle; it is seated in

the heart, where its authority is recognized as supreme, whence by

degrees it expels whatever is opposed to it, and where it gradually

brings all the affections and desires under its complete controul and

regulation.

But though the heart be its special residence, it may be said to possess

in a degree the ubiquity of its Divine Author. Every endeavour and

pursuit must acknowledge its presence; and whatever does not, or will

not, or cannot receive its sacred stamp, is to be condemned as

inherently defective, and is to be at once abstained from or abandoned.

It is like the principle of vitality, which, animating and informing

every part, lives throughout the whole of the human body, and

communicates its kindly influence to the smallest and remotest fibres of

the frame. But the notion of Religion entertained by many among us seems

altogether different. They begin indeed, in submission to her clear

prohibitions, by fencing off from the field of human action, a certain

district, which, though it in many parts bear fruits on which they cast

a longing eye, they cannot but confess to be forbidden ground. They next

assign to Religion a portion, larger or smaller according to whatever

may be their circumstances and views, in which however she is to possess

merely a qualified jurisdiction, and having so done, they conceive that

without let or hindrance they have a right to range at will over the

spacious remainder. Religion can claim only a stated proportion of their

thoughts, and time, and fortune, and influence; and of these, or perhaps

of any of them, if they make her any thing of a liberal allowance, she

may well be satisfied: the rest is now their own to do what they will

with; they have paid their tythes, say rather their composition, the

demands of the Church are satisfied, and they may surely be permitted to

enjoy what she has left without molestation or interference.

It is scarcely possible to state too strongly the mischief which results

from this fundamental error. At the same time its consequences are so

natural and obvious, that one would think it scarcely possible not to

foresee that they must infallibly follow. The greatest part of human

actions is considered as indifferent. If men are not chargeable with

actual vices, and are decent in the discharge of their religious duties;

if they do not stray into the forbidden ground, if they respect the

rights of the conceded allotment, what more can be expected from them?

Instead of keeping at a distance from _all sin_, in which alone consists

our safety, they will be apt not to care how near they approach what

they conceive to be the boundary line; if they have not actually passed

it, there is no harm done, it is no trespass. Thus the free and active

spirit of Religion is "cribbed and hemmed in;" she is checked in her

disposition to expand her territory, and enlarge the circle of her

influence. She must keep to her prescribed confines, and every attempt

to extend them will be resisted as an encroachment.

But this is not all. Since whatever can be gained from her allotment, or

whatever can be taken in from the forbidden ground, will be so much of

addition to that land of liberty, where men may roam at large, free from

restraint or molestation, they will of course be constantly, and almost

insensibly, straitening and pressing upon the limits of the religious

allotment on the one hand; and on the other, will be removing back a

little farther and farther the fence which abridges them on the side of

the forbidden ground. If Religion attempt for a time to defend her

frontier, she by degrees gives way. The space she occupies diminishes

till it be scarcely discernible; whilst, her spirit extinguished, and

her force destroyed, she is little more than the nominal possessor even

of the contracted limits to which she has been avowedly reduced.

This it is to be feared is but too faithful a representation of the

general state of things among ourselves. The promotion of the glory of

God, and the possession of his favour, are no longer recognized as the

objects of our highest regard, and most strenuous endeavours; as

furnishing to us, a vigorous, habitual, and universal principle of

action. We set up for ourselves: we are become our own masters. The

sense of constant homage and continual service is irksome and galling to

us; and we rejoice in being emancipated from it, as from a state of base

and servile villainage. Thus the very tenure and condition, by which

life and all its possessions are held, undergo a total change: our

faculties and powers are now our own: whatever we have is regarded

rather as a property than as a trust; or if there still exist the

remembrance of some paramount claim, we are satisfied with an occasional

acknowledgment of a nominal right; we pay our pepper corn, and take our

estates to ourselves in full and free enjoyment.

Hence it is that so little sense of responsibility seems attached to the

possession of high rank, or splendid abilities, or affluent fortunes, or

other means or instruments of usefulness. The instructive admonitions,

"give an account of thy stewardship,"--"occupy till I come;" are

forgotten. Or if it be acknowledged by some men of larger views than

ordinary, that a reference is to be had to some principle superior to

that of our own gratification, it is, at best, to the good of society,

or to the welfare of our families: and even then the obligations

resulting from these relations, are seldom enforced on us by any higher

sanctions than those of family comfort, and of worldly interest or

estimation. Besides; what multitudes of persons are there, people

without families, in private stations, or of a retired turn, to whom

they are scarcely held to apply! and what multitudes of cases to which

it would be thought unnecessary scrupulosity to extend them! Accordingly

we find _in fact_, that the generality of mankind among the higher

order, in the formation of their schemes, in the selection of their

studies, in the choice of their place of residence, in the employment

and distribution of their time, in their thoughts, conversation, and

amusements, are considered as being at liberty, if there be no actual

vice, to consult in the main their own gratification.

Thus the generous and wakeful spirit of Christian Benevolence, seeking

and finding every where occasions for its exercise, is exploded, and a

system of _decent selfishness_ is avowedly established in its stead; a

system scarcely more to be abjured for its impiety, than to be abhorred

for its cold insensibility to the opportunities of diffusing happiness.

"Have we no families, or are they provided for? Are we wealthy, and bred

to no profession? Are we young and lively, and in the gaiety and vigour

of youth? Surely we may be allowed to take our pleasure. We neglect no

duty, we live in no vice, we do nobody any harm, and have a right to

amuse ourselves. We have nothing better to do, we wish we had; our time

hangs heavy on our hands for want of it."

I pity the man who can travel from Dan to Beer-sheba, and cry "It is all

barren." No man has a right to be idle--Not to speak of that great work

which we all have to accomplish, and surely the _whole_ attention of a

short and precarious life is not more than an eternal interest may well

require; where is it that in such a world as this, health and leisure

and affluence may not find some ignorance to instruct, some wrong to

redress, some want to supply, some misery to alleviate? Shall Ambition

and Avarice never sleep? Shall they never want objects on which to

fasten? Shall they be so observant to discover, so acute to discern, so

eager, so patient to pursue, and shall the Benevolence of Christians

want employment?

Yet thus life rolls away with too many of us in a course of "shapeless

idleness." Its recreations constitute its chief business. Watering

places--the sports of the field--cards! never failing cards!--the

assembly--the theatre--all contribute their aid--amusements are

multiplied, and combined, and varied, "to fill up the void of a listless

and languid life;" and by the judicious use of these different

resources, there is often a kind of sober settled plan of domestic

dissipation, in which with all imaginable decency year after year wears

away in unprofitable vacancy. Even old age often finds us pacing in the

same round of amusements, which our early youth had tracked out.

Meanwhile, being conscious that we are not giving into any flagrant

vice, perhaps that we are guilty of no irregularity, and it may be, that

we are not neglecting the offices of Religion, we persuade ourselves

that we need not be uneasy. In the main we do not fall below the general

standard of morals, of the class and station to which we belong, we may

therefore allow ourselves to glide down the stream without apprehension

of the consequences.

Some, of a character often hardly to be distinguished from the class we

have been just describing, take up with _sensual_ pleasures. The chief

happiness of their lives consists in one species or another of animal

gratification; and these persons perhaps will be found to compose a

pretty large description. It will be remembered, that it belongs not to

our purpose to speak of the grossly and scandalously profligate, who

renounce all pretensions to the name of Christians; but of those who,

maintaining a certain decency of character, and perhaps being tolerably

observant of the forms of Religion, may yet be not improperly termed

_sober sensualists_. These, though less impetuous and more measured, are

not less staunch and steady, than the professed votaries of licentious

pleasure, in the pursuit of their favourite objects. "Mortify the flesh,

with its affections and lusts," is the Christian _precept_; a soft

luxurious course of habitual indulgence, is the _practice_ of the bulk

of modern Christians: and that constant moderation, that wholesome

discipline of restraint and self-denial, which are requisite to prevent

the unperceived encroachments of the inferior appetites, seem altogether

disused, as the exploded austerities of monkish superstition.

Christianity calls her professors to a state of diligent watchfulness

and active services. But the persons of whom we are now speaking,

forgetting alike the duties they owe to themselves and to their

fellow-creatures, often act as though their condition were meant to be a

state of uniform indulgence, and vacant, unprofitable sloth. To multiply

the comforts of affluence, to provide for the gratification of appetite,

to be luxurious without diseases, and indolent without lassitude, seems

the chief study of their lives. Nor can they be clearly exempted from

this class, who, by a common error, substituting the means for the end,

make the preservation of health and spirits, not as instruments of

usefulness, but as sources of pleasure, their great business and

continual care.

Others again seem more to attach themselves to what have been well

termed the 'pomps and vanities of this world.' Magnificent houses, grand

equipages, numerous retinues, splendid entertainments, high and

fashionable connections, appear to constitute, in their estimation, the

supreme happiness of life. This class too, if we mistake not, will be

found numerous in our days; for it must be considered, _that it is the

heart_, _set on these things_, which constitutes the essential

character. It often happens, that persons, to whose rank and station

these indulgences most properly belong, are most indifferent to them.

The undue solicitude about them is more visible in persons of inferior

conditions and smaller fortunes, in whom it is not rarely detected by

the studious contrivances of a misapplied ingenuity to reconcile parade

with oeconomy, and glitter at a cheap rate. But this temper of display

and competition is a direct contrast to the lowly, modest, unassuming

carriage of the true Christian: and wherever there is an evident effort

and struggle to excel in the particulars here in question, a manifest

wish thus to rival superiors, to outstrip equals, to dazzle inferiors;

it is manifest the great end of life, and of all its possessions, is too

little kept in view, and it is to be feared that the gratification of a

vain ostentatious humour is the predominant disposition of the heart.

As there is a sober sensuality, so is there also a sober avarice, and a

sober ambition. The commercial and the professional world compose the

chief sphere of their influence. They are often recognized and openly

avowed as just master principles of action. But where this is not the

case, they assume such plausible shapes, are called by such specious

names, and urge such powerful pleas, that they are received with

cordiality, and suffered to gather strength without suspicion. The

seducing considerations of diligence in our callings, of success in our

profession, of making handsome provisions for our children, beguile our

better judgments. "We rise early, and late take rest, and eat the bread

of carefulness." In our few intervals of leisure, our exhausted spirits

require refreshment; the serious concerns of our immortal souls, are

matters of speculation too grave and gloomy to answer the purpose, and

we fly to something that may better deserve the name of relaxation, till

we are again summoned to the daily labours of our employment.

Meanwhile Religion seldom comes in our way, scarcely occurs to our

thoughts; and when some secret misgivings begin to be felt on this head,

company soon drowns, amusements dissipate, or habitual occupations

insensibly displace or smother the rising apprehension. Professional and

commercial men perhaps, especially when they happen to be persons of

more than ordinary reflection, or of early habits of piety not quite

worn away, easily quiet their consciences by the plea, that necessary

attention to their business leaves them no time to think on these

serious subjects at present. "Men of leisure they confess should

consider them; they themselves will do it hereafter when they retire;

meanwhile they are usefully or at least innocently employed." Thus

business and pleasure fill up our time, and the "one thing needful," is

forgotten. Respected by others, and secretly applauding ourselves,

(perhaps congratulating ourselves that we are not like such an one who

is a spendthrift or a mere man of pleasure, or such another who is a

notorious miser) the true principle of action is no less wanting in us,

and personal advancement or the acquisition of wealth is the object of

our supreme desires and predominant pursuit.

It would be to presume too much on the reader's patience to attempt a

delineation of the characters of the politician, the metaphysician, the

scholar, the poet, the virtuoso, the man of taste, in all their

varieties. Of these and many other classes which might be enumerated,

suffice it to remark, and to appeal to every man's own experience for

the truth of the observation, that they in like manner are often

completely engrossed by the objects of their several pursuits. In many

of these cases indeed a generous spirit surrenders itself wholly up with

the less reserve, and continues absorbed with the fuller confidence,

from the consciousness of not being led to its object by self-interested

motives. Here therefore these men are ardent, active, laborious,

persevering, and they think, and speak, and act, as those, the whole

happiness of whose life turns on the success or failure of their

endeavours. When such, as we have seen it, is the undisturbed composure

of mere triflers, it is less wonderful that the votaries of learning and

of taste, when absorbed in their several pursuits, should be able to

check still more easily any growing apprehension, silencing it by the

suggestion, that they are more than harmlessly, that they are

meritoriously employed. "Surely the thanks of mankind are justly paid to

those more refined spirits who, superior alike to the seductions of

ease, and the temptations of avarice, devote their time and talents to

the less gainful labours of increasing the stores of learning or

enlarging the boundaries of science; who are engaged in raising the

character and condition of society, by improving the liberal arts, and

adding to the innocent pleasures or elegant accomplishments of life."

Let not the writer be so far misunderstood, as to be supposed to

insinuate that Religion is an enemy to the pursuits of taste, much less

to those of learning and of science. Let these have their _due_ place in

the estimation of mankind; but this must not be the _highest_ place. Let

them know their just _subordination_. They deserve not to be the

_primary_ concern, for there is another, to which in importance they

bear no more proportion than our span of existence to eternity.

Thus the supreme desires of the heart, the center to which they should

tend, losing its attractive force, are permitted without controul to

take that course, whatever it may be, which best suits our natural

temper, or to which they are impelled by our various situations and

circumstances. Sometimes they manifestly appear to be almost entirely

confined to a single track; but perhaps more frequently the lines in

which they move are so intermingled and diversified, that it becomes not

a little difficult, even when we look into ourselves, to ascertain the

object by which they are chiefly attracted, or to estimate with

precision the amount of their several forces, in the different

directions in which they move. "Know thyself," is in truth an injunction

with which the careless and the indolent cannot comply. For this

compliance, it is requisite, in obedience to the Scripture precept, "to

keep the heart with all diligence." Mankind are in general deplorably

ignorant of their true state; and there are few perhaps who have any

adequate conception of the real strength of the ties, by which they are

bound to the several objects of their attachment, or who are aware how

small a share of their regard is possessed by those concerns on which it

ought to be supremely fixed.

But if it be indeed true, that except the affections of the soul be

supremely fixed on God; that unless it be _the leading and governing

desire and primary pursuit_ to possess his favour and promote his glory,

we are considered as having transferred our fealty to an usurper, and as

being in fact revolters from our lawful sovereign; if this be indeed the

Scripture doctrine, all the several attachments which have been lately

enumerated, of the different classes of society, wherever they interest

the affections, and possess the soul in any such measure of strength as

deserves to be called _predominance_, are but so many varied expressions

of _disloyalty_. God requires to set up his throne in the heart, and to

reign in it without a rival: if he be kept out of his right, it matters

not by what competitor. The revolt may be more avowed or more secret;

it may be the treason of deliberate preference, or of inconsiderate

levity; we may be the subjects of a more or of a less creditable master;

we may be employed in services more gross or more refined: but whether

the slaves of avarice, of sensuality, of dissipation, of sloth, or the

votaries of ambition, of taste, or of fashion; whether supremely

governed by vanity and self-love, by the desire of literary fame or of

military glory, we are alike estranged from the dominion of our rightful

sovereign. Let not this seem a harsh position; it can appear so only

from not adverting to what was shewn to be the _essential nature_ of

true Religion. He who bowed the knee to the god of medicine or of

eloquence, was no less an idolater than the worshipper of the deified

patrons of lewdness or of theft. In the several cases which have been

specified, the _external acts_ indeed are different; but in _principle_

the disaffection is the same; and unless we return to our allegiance, we

must expect the title, and prepare to meet the punishment, of rebels on

that tremendous day, when all false colours shall be done away, and

(there being no longer any room for the evasions of worldly sophistry,

or the smooth plausibilities of worldly language) "that which is often

highly esteemed amongst men, shall appear to have been abomination in

the sight of God."

These fundamental truths seem vanished from the mind, and it follows of

course, that every thing is viewed less and less through a religious

medium. To speak no longer of instances wherein _we ourselves_ are

concerned, and wherein the unconquerable power of indulged appetite may

be supposed to beguile our better judgment, or force us on in defiance

of it; not to insist on the motives by which the conduct of men is

determined, often avowedly, in what are to _themselves_ the most

important incidents of life; what are the judgments which they form in

the case of _others_? Idleness, profusion, thoughtlessness, and

dissipation, the misapplication of time or of talents, the trifling away

of life in frivolous occupations or unprofitable studies; all these

things we may regret in those around us, in the view of their temporal

effects; but they are not considered in a religious connection, or

lamented as endangering everlasting happiness. Excessive vanity and

inordinate ambition are spoken of as weaknesses rather than as sins;

even covetousness itself, though a hateful passion, yet, if not extreme,

scarcely presents the face of _Irreligion_. Is some friend, or even some

common acquaintance sick, or has some accident befallen him? How

solicitously do we inquire after him, how tenderly do we visit him, how

much perhaps do we regret that he has not better advice, how apt are we

to prescribe for him, and how should we reproach ourselves, if we were

to neglect any means in our power of contributing to his recovery! But

"the mind diseased" is neglected and forgotten--"_that_ is not our

affair; we hope (we do not perhaps really believe) that here it is well

with him." The truth is, we have no solicitude about his spiritual

interest. Here he is treated like the unfortunate traveller in the

Gospel; we look upon him; we see but too well his sad condition, but

(Priest and Levite alike) we pass by on the other side, and leave him to

the officious tenderness of some poor despised Samaritan.

Nay, take the case of our very children, when our hearts being most

interested to promote their happiness, we must be supposed most desirous

of determining on right principles, and where therefore the real

standard of our deliberate judgments may be indisputably ascertained: in

their education and marriage, in the choice of their professions, in our

comparative consideration and judgment of the different parts of their

several characters, how little do we reflect that they are immortal

beings! Health, learning, credit, the amiable and agreeable qualities,

above all, fortune and success in life, are taken, and not unjustly

taken, into the account; but how small a share in forming our opinions

is allowed to the probable effect which may be produced on their eternal

interests! Indeed the subjects of our mutual inquiries, and

congratulations, and condolences, prove but too plainly what

considerations are in these cases uppermost in our thoughts.

Such are the fatal and widely spreading effects, which but too naturally

follow from the admission of the grand fundamental error before

mentioned, that of not considering Religion as a principle of universal

application and command. Robbed of its best energies, Religion now takes

the form of a cold compilation of restraints and prohibitions. It is

looked upon simply as a set of penal statutes; these, though wise and

reasonable, are however, so far as they extend, abridgments of our

natural liberty, and nothing which comes to us in this shape is

extremely acceptable:

Atqui nolint occidere quemquam, posse volunt.

Considering moreover, that the matter of them is not in general very

palatable, and that the partiality of every man where his own cause is

in question, will be likely to make him construe them liberally in his

own favour, we might beforehand have formed a tolerable judgment of the

manner in which they are actually treated. Sometimes we attend to the

words rather than to the spirit of Scripture injunctions, overlooking

the principle they involve, which a better acquaintance with the word of

God would have clearly taught us to infer from them. At others, "the

spirit of an injunction is all;" and this we contrive to collect so

dexterously, as thereby to relax or annul the strictness of the terms.

"Whatever is not expressly forbidden cannot be _very_ criminal; whatever

is not positively enjoined, cannot be indispensably necessary--If we do

not offend against the laws, what more can be expected from us?--The

persons to whom the strict precepts of the Gospel were given, were in

very different circumstances from those in which we are placed. The

injunctions were drawn rather tighter than is quite necessary, in order

to allow for a little relaxation in practice. The expressions of the

sacred Writers are figurative; the Eastern style is confessedly

hyperbolical."

By these and other such dishonest shifts (by which however we seldom

deceive ourselves, except it be in thinking that we deceive others) the

pure but strong morality of the word of God is explained away, and its

too rigid canons are softened down, with as much dexterity as is

exhibited by those who practise a logic of the same complexion, in order

to escape from the obligations of human statutes. Like Swift's

unfortunate Brothers[74], we are sometimes put to difficulties, but our

ingenuity is little inferior to their's. If totidem verbis[75] will not

serve our turn, try totidem syllabis; if totidem syllabis fail, try

totidem literis: then there is in our case, as well as in theirs, "an

allegorical sense" to be adverted to; and if every other resource fail

us, we come at last to the same conclusion as the Brothers adopted, that

after all, those rigorous clauses require some allowance, and a

favourable interpretation, and ought to be understood "cum grano salis."

But when the law both in its spirit and its letter is obstinate and

incorrigible, what we cannot bend to our purpose we must break--"Our

sins we hope are of the smaller order; a little harmless gallantry, a

little innocent jollity, a few foolish expletives which we use from the

mere force of habit, meaning nothing by them; a little warmth of

colouring and licence of expression; a few freedoms of speech in the

gaiety of our hearts, which, though not perhaps strictly correct, none

but the over-rigid would think of treating any otherwise than as venial

infirmities, and in which very grave and religious men will often take

their share, when they may throw off their state, and relax without

impropriety. We serve an all-merciful Being, who knows the frailty of

our nature, the number and strength of our temptations, and will not be

extreme to mark what is done amiss. Even the less lenient judicatures of

human institution concede somewhat to the weakness of man. It is an

established maxim--'De minimis non curat lex.' We hope we are not worse

than the generality. All men are imperfect. We own we have our

infirmities; we confess it is so; we wish we were better, and trust as

we grow older we shall become so; we are ready to acknowledge that we

must be indebted for our admission into a future state of happiness, not

to our own merit, but to the clemency of God, and the mercy of our

Redeemer."

But let not this language be mistaken for that of true Christian

humiliation, of which it is the very essence to feel the burden of sin,

and to long to be released from it: nor let two things be confounded,

than which none can be more fundamentally different, the allowed want of

universality in our determination, and our endeavour to obey the will of

God, and that defective accomplishment of our purposes, which even the

best of men will too often find reason to deplore. In the persons of

whom we have been now speaking, the unconcern with which they can amuse

themselves upon the borders of sin, and the easy familiarity with which

they can actually dally with it in its less offensive shapes, shew

plainly that, distinctly from its consequences, it is by no means the

object of their aversion; that there is no love of holiness as such; no

endeavour to acquire it, no care to prepare the soul for the reception

of this divine principle, and to expel or keep under whatever might be

likely to obstruct its entrance, or dispute its sovereignty.

It is indeed a most lamentable consequence of the practice of regarding

Religion as a compilation of statutes, and not as an internal principle,

that it soon comes to be considered as being conversant about _external

actions_ rather than about _habits of mind_. This sentiment sometimes

has even the hardiness to insinuate and maintain itself under the guise

of extraordinary concern for _practical Religion_; but it soon discovers

the falsehood of this pretension, and betrays its real nature. The

expedient indeed of attaining to superiority in practice, by not wasting

any of the attention on the internal principles from which alone

practice can flow, is about as reasonable, and will answer about as

well, as the oeconomy of the architect, who should account it mere

prodigality to expend any of his materials in laying foundations, from

an idea that they might be more usefully applied to the raising of the

superstructure. We know what would be the fate of such an edifice.

It is indeed true, and a truth never to be forgotten, that all

pretensions to internal principles of holiness are vain when they are

contradicted by the conduct; but it is no less true, that the only

effectual way of improving the latter, is by a vigilant attention to the

former. It was therefore our blessed Saviour's injunction, "Make the

tree good" as the necessary means of obtaining good fruit; and the holy

Scriptures abound in admonitions, to let it be our chief business to

cultivate our hearts with all diligence, to examine into their state

with impartiality, and watch over them with continual care. Indeed it is

the _Heart_ which constitutes the _Man_; and external actions derive

their whole character and meaning from the motives and dispositions of

which they are the indications. Human judicatures, it is true, are

chiefly conversant about the former, but this is only because to our

limited perceptions the latter can seldom be any otherwise clearly

ascertained. The real object of inquiry to human judicatures is the

_internal_ disposition; it is to this that they adapt the nature, and

proportion the degree, of their punishments.

Yet though this be a truth so obvious, so established, that to have

insisted on it may seem almost needless; it is a truth of which we are

apt to lose sight in the review of our religious Character, and with

which the _habit_, of considering Religion as consisting rather in

external actions, than internal principles, is at direct and open war.

This mode of judging may well be termed _habitual_: for though by some

persons it is advisedly adopted, and openly avowed, yet in many cases

for want of due watchfulness, it has stolen insensibly upon the mind; it

exists unsuspected, and is practised, like other habits, without

consciousness or observation.

In what degree soever this pernicious principle prevails, in that degree

is the mischief it produces. The vicious affections, like noxious weeds,

sprout up and increase of themselves but too naturally; while the graces

of the Christian temper, exotics in the soil of the human heart, like

the more tender productions of the vegetable world, though the light and

breath of Heaven must quicken them, require on our part also, in order

to their being preserved in health and vigour, constant superintendence

and assiduous care. But so far from their being earnestly sought for, or

watchfully reared, with unremitted prayers for that Divine Grace,

without which all our labours must be ineffectual; such is the result of

the principle we are here condemning, that no endeavours are used for

their attainment, or they are suffered to droop and die almost without

an effort to preserve them. The culture of the mind is less and less

attended to, and at length perhaps is almost wholly neglected. Way

being thus made for the unobstructed growth of other tempers, the

qualities of which are very different, and often directly opposite,

these naturally overspread and quietly possess the mind; their

contrariety to the Christian spirit not being discerned, and even

perhaps their presence being scarcely acknowledged, except when their

existence and their nature are manifested in the conduct by marks too

plain to be overlooked or mistaken.

Some of the most important branches of the Christian temper, wherein the

bulk of nominal Christians appear eminently and allowedly defective,

have been already noticed in this and in the preceding chapter. Many

others still remain to be particularized.

First then, it is the comprehensive compendium of the character of true

Christians, that "they are walking by faith, and not by sight." By this

description is meant, not merely that they so firmly believe in the

doctrine of future rewards and punishments, as to be influenced by that

persuasion to adhere in the main to the path of duty, though tempted to

forsake it by present interest, and present gratification; but farther,

that the great truths revealed in Scripture concerning the unseen world,

are the ideas for the most part uppermost in their thoughts, and about

which habitually their hearts are most interested. This state of mind

contributes, if the expression may be allowed, to rectify the illusions

of vision, to bring forward into nearer view those eternal things which

from their remoteness are apt to be either wholly overlooked, or to

appear but faintly in the utmost bounds of the horizon; and to remove

backward, and reduce to their true comparative dimensions, the objects

of the present life, which are apt to fill the human eye, assuming a

false magnitude from their vicinity. The true Christian knows from

experience however, that the former are apt to fade from the sight, and

the latter again to swell on it. He makes it therefore his continual

care to preserve those just and enlightened views, which through Divine

mercy he has obtained. Not that he will retire from that station in the

world which Providence seems to have appointed him to fill: he will be

active in the business of life, and enjoy its comforts with moderation

and thankfulness; but he will not be "totus in illis," he will not give

up his whole soul to them, they will be habitually subordinate in his

estimation to objects of more importance. The awful truth has sunk deep

into his mind, "the things which are seen are temporal, but the things

which are not seen are eternal;" and in the tumult and bustle of life,

he is sobered by the still small voice which whispers to him "the

fashion of this world passes away." This circumstance alone must, it is

obvious, constitute a vast difference between the habitual temper of his

mind, and that of the generality of nominal Christians, who are almost

entirely taken up with the concerns of the present world. They _know_

indeed that they are mortal, but they do not _feel_ it. The truth rests

in their understandings, and cannot gain admission into their hearts.

This speculative persuasion is altogether different from that strong

_practical_ impression of the infinite importance of eternal things,

which attended with a proportionate sense of the shortness and

uncertainty of all below, while it prompts to activity from a conviction

that "the night cometh when no man can work," produces a certain

firmness of texture, which hardens us against the buffets of fortune,

and prevents our being very deeply penetrated by the cares and

interests, the goods or evils, of this transitory state. Thus this just

impression of the relative value of temporal and eternal things,

maintains in the soul a dignified composure through all the vicissitudes

of life. It quickens our diligence, yet moderates our ardour; urges us

to just pursuits, yet checks any undue solicitude about the success of

them, and thereby enables us, in the language of Scripture, "to use this

world as not abusing it," rendering us at once beneficial to others and

comfortable to ourselves.

But this is not all--besides the distinction between the nominal and the

real Christian, which results from the impressions produced on them

respectively by the _eternal duration_ of heavenly things, there is

another grounded on their _nature_, no less marked, nor less important.

They are stated in Scripture, not only as entitling themselves to the

notice of the true Christian from considerations of interest, but as

approving themselves to his judgment from a conviction of their

excellence, and yet farther, as recommending themselves to his feelings,

by their being suited to the renewed dispositions of his heart. Indeed

were the case otherwise, did not their qualities correspond with his

inclinations; however he might endure them on principles of duty, and be

coldly conscious of their superior worth, he could not lend himself to

them with cordial complacency, much less look to them as the surest

source of pleasure. But this is the light in which they are habitually

regarded by the true Christian. He walks in the ways of Religion, not

by constraint, but willingly; they are to him not only safe, but

comfortable; "ways of pleasantness as well as of peace." Not but that

here also he is from experience aware of the necessity of constant

support, and continual watchfulness; without these, his old estimate of

things is apt to return on him, and the former objects of his affections

to resume their influence. With earnest prayers, therefore, for the

Divine Help, with jealous circumspection, and resolute self-denial, he

guards against, and abstains from, whatever might be likely again to

darken his _enlightened judgment_, or to vitiate his reformed taste;

thus making it his unwearied endeavour to grow in the knowledge and love

of heavenly things, and to obtain a warmer admiration, and a more

cordial relish of their excellence.

That this is a just representation of the habitual judgment, and of the

leading disposition of true Christians, will be abundantly evident, if,

endeavouring to form ourselves after our proper model, we consult the

sacred Scripture. But in vain are Christians there represented as having

set their _affections_ on things above, as _cordially rejoicing_ in the

service, and delighting in the worship of God. Pleasure and Religion are

contradictory terms with the bulk of nominal Christians. They may look

back indeed on their religious offices with something of a secret

satisfaction, and even feel it during the performance of them, from the

idea of being engaged in the discharge of a duty; but this is altogether

different from the pleasure which attends an employment in itself

acceptable and grateful to us. The writer must here again guard against

being understood to speak of a deficiency in the _warmth_ and

_vehemence_ merely of religious affections. Are the service and worship

of God _pleasant_ to these persons? it is not asked whether they are

_delightful_. Do they diffuse over the soul any thing of that calm

complacency, that mild and grateful composure, which bespeaks a mind in

good humour with itself and all around it, and engaged in a service

suited to its taste, and congenial with its feelings?

Let us appeal to that Day which is especially devoted to the offices of

Religion: Do they joyfully avail themselves of this blessed opportunity

of withdrawing from the business and cares of life; when, without being

disquieted by any doubt whether they are not neglecting the duties of

their proper callings, they may be allowed to detach their minds from

earthly things, that by a fuller knowledge of heavenly objects, and a

more habitual acquaintance with them, their hope may grow more "full of

immortality?" Is the day cheerfully devoted to those holy exercises for

which it was appointed? Do they indeed "come into the courts of God with

gladness?" And how are they employed when not engaged in the public

services of the day? Are they busied in studying the word of God, in

meditating on his perfections, in tracing his providential

dispensations, in admiring his works, in revolving his mercies, (above

all, the transcendent mercies of redeeming love) in singing his praises,

"and speaking good of his name?" Do their secret retirements witness the

earnestness of their prayers and the warmth of their thanksgivings,

their diligence and impartiality in the necessary work of

self-examination, their mindfulness of the benevolent duty of

intercession? Is the kind purpose of the institution of a Sabbath

answered by them, in its being made to their servants and dependents a

season of rest and comfort? Does the instruction of their families, or

of the more poor and ignorant of their neighbours, possess its due share

of their time? If blessed with talents or with affluence, are they

sedulously employing a part of this interval of leisure in relieving the

indigent, and visiting the sick, and comforting the sorrowful, in

forming plans for the good of their fellow-creatures, in considering how

they may promote both the temporal and spiritual benefit of their

friends and acquaintance: or if their's be a larger sphere, in devising

measures whereby through the Divine blessing, they may become the

honoured instruments of the more extended diffusion of religious truth?

In the hours of domestic or social intercourse, does their conversation

manifest the subject of which their hearts are full? Do their language

and demeanor shew them to be more than commonly gentle, and kind, and

friendly, free from rough and irritating passions?

Surely an entire day should not seem long amidst these various

employments. It might well be deemed a privilege thus to spend it, in

the more immediate presence of our Heavenly Father, in the exercises of

humble admiration and grateful homage; of the benevolent, and domestic,

and social feelings, and of all the best affections of our nature,

prompted by their true motives, conversant about their proper objects,

and directed to their noblest end; all sorrows mitigated, all cares

suspended, all fears repressed, every angry emotion softened, every

envious or revengeful or malignant passion expelled; and the bosom, thus

quieted, purified, enlarged, ennobled, partaking almost of a measure of

the Heavenly happiness, and become for a while the seat of love, and

joy, and confidence, and harmony.

The nature, and uses, and proper employments of a Christian Sabbath,

have been pointed out more particularly, not only because the day will

be found, when thus employed, eminently conducive, through the Divine

blessing, to the maintenance of the religious principle in activity and

vigour; but also because we must all have had occasion often to remark,

that many persons, of the graver and more decent sort, seem not seldom

to be nearly destitute of religious resources. The Sunday is with them,

to say the best of it, a _heavy_ day; and that larger part of it, which

is not claimed by the public offices of the church, dully drawls on in

comfortless vacuity, or without improvement is trifled away in vain and

unprofitable discourse. Not to speak of those who by their more daring

profanation of this sacred season, openly violate the laws and insult

the religion of their country, how little do many seem to enter into the

_spirit_ of the institution, who are not wholly inattentive to its

exterior decorums! How glad are they to qualify the rigor of their

religious labours! How hardly do they plead against being compelled to

devote the _whole_ of the day to Religion, claiming to themselves no

small merit for giving up to it a part, and purchasing therefore, as

they hope, a right to spend the remainder more agreeably! How

dexterously do they avail themselves of any plausible plea for

introducing some weekday employment into the Sunday, whilst they have

not the same propensity to introduce any of the Sunday's peculiar

employment into the rest of the week! How often do they find excuses

for taking journeys, writing letters, balancing accounts; or in short

doing something, which by a little management might probably have been

anticipated, or which, without any material inconvenience, might be

postponed! Even business itself is recreation, compared with Religion,

and from the drudgery of this day of Sacred Rest they fly for relief to

their ordinary occupations.

Others again who would consider business as a prophanation, and who

still hold out against the encroachments of the card table, get over

much of the day, and gladly seek for an innocent resource, in the social

circle or in family visits, where it is not even pretended that the

conversation turns on such topics as might render it in any way

conducive to religious instruction, or improvement. Their families

meanwhile are neglected, their servants robbed of Christian privileges,

and their example quoted by others, who cannot see that they are

themselves less religiously employed, while playing an innocent game at

cards, or relaxing in the concert room.

But all these several artifices, _whatever they may be_, _to unhallow_

the Sunday and to change its character (it might be almost said "to

relax its horrors,") prove but too plainly, however we may be glad to

take refuge in Religion, when driven to it by the loss of every other

comfort, and to retain as it were a reversionary interest in an asylum,

which may receive us when we are forced from the transitory enjoyments

of our present state; that _in itself_ it wears to us a gloomy and

forbidding aspect, and not a face of consolation and joy; that the

worship of God is with us a _constrained_ and not a _willing_ service,

which we are glad therefore to abridge though we dare not omit it.

Some indeed there are who with concern and grief will confess this to be

their uncomfortable and melancholy state; who humbly pray, and

diligently endeavour, for an imagination less distracted at devotional

seasons, for a heart more capable of relishing the excellence of divine

things; and who carefully guard against whatever has a tendency to chain

down their affections to earthly enjoyments. Let not such be

discouraged. It is not they whom we are condemning: but such as knowing

and even acknowledging this to be their case, yet proceed in a way

directly contrary: who, scarcely seeming to suspect that any thing is

wrong with them, voluntarily acquiesce in a state of mind which is

directly contrary to the positive commands of God, which forms a perfect

contrast to the representations given us in Scripture of the Christian

character, and accords but too faithfully in one leading feature with

the character of those, who are stated to be the objects of Divine

displeasure in this life, and of Divine punishment in the next.

It is not however only in these essential constituents of a devotional

frame that the bulk of nominal Christians are defective. This they

freely declare (secretly feeling perhaps some complacency from the

frankness of the avowal) to be a higher strain of piety than that to

which they aspire. Their forgetfulness also of some of the leading

dispositions of Christianity, is undeniably apparent in their allowed

want of the spirit of kindness, and meekness, and gentleness, and

patience, and long suffering; and above all, of that which is the stock

on which alone these dispositions can grow and flourish, that

_humility_ and _lowliness of mind_, in which perhaps more than in any

other quality may be said to consist the true essence and vital

principle of the Christian temper. These dispositions are not only

neglected, but even disavowed and exploded, and their opposites, if not

rising to any great height, are acknowledged and applauded. _A just

pride, a proper and becoming pride_, are terms which we daily hear from

Christian lips. To possess _a high spirit_, to behave with _a proper

spirit_ when used ill,--by which is meant a quick feeling of injuries,

and a promptness in resenting them,--entitles to commendation; and a

meek-spirited disposition, the highest Scripture eulogium, expresses

ideas of disapprobation and contempt. Vanity and vain glory are suffered

without interruption to retain their natural possession of the heart.

But here a topic opens upon us of such importance, and on which so many

mistakes are to be found both in the writings of respectable authors,

and in the commonly prevailing opinions of the world, that it may be

allowed us to discuss it more at large, and for this purpose to treat of

it in a separate section.

SECTION III.

_On the Desire of human Estimation and Applause--The generally

prevailing Opinions contrasted with those of the true Christian._

The desire of human estimation, and distinction, and honour, of the

admiration and applause of our fellow creatures, if we take it in its

full comprehension, and in all its various modifications, from the

thirst of glory to the dread of shame, is the passion of which the

empire is by far the most general, and perhaps the authority the most

commanding. Though its power be most conspicuous and least controulable

in the higher classes of society, it seems, like some resistless

conqueror, to spare neither age, nor sex, nor condition; and taking ten

thousand shapes, insinuating itself under the most specious pretexts,

and sheltering itself when necessary under the most artful disguises, it

winds its way in secret, when it dares not openly avow itself, and mixes

in all we think, and speak, and do. It is in some instances the

determined and declared pursuit, and confessedly the main practical

principle; but where this is not the case, it is not seldom the grand

spring of action, and in the Beauty and the Author, no less than in the

Soldier, it is often the master passion of the soul.

This is the principle which parents recognize with joy in their infant

offspring, which is diligently instilled and nurtured in advancing

years, which, under the names of honourable ambition and of laudable

emulation, it is the professed aim of schools and colleges to excite and

cherish. The writer is well aware that it will be thought he is pushing

his opinions much too far, when he ventures to assail this great

principle of human action; "a principle," its advocates might perhaps

exclaim, "the extinction of which, if you could succeed in your rash

attempt, would be like the annihilation in the material world of the

principle of motion; without it all were torpid and cold and

comfortless. We grant," they might go on to observe, "that we never

ought to deviate from the paths of duty in order to procure the applause

or to avoid the reproaches of men, and we allow that this is a rule too

little attended to in practice. We grant that the love of praise is in

some instances a ridiculous, and in others a mischievous passion; that

to it we owe the breed of coquettes and coxcombs, and, a more serious

evil, the noxious race of heroes and conquerors. We too are ready, when

it appears in the shape of vanity, to smile at it as a foible, or in

that of false glory, to condemn it as a crime. But all these are only

its perversions; and on account of them to contend against its true

forms, and its legitimate exercise, were to give into the very error

which you formerly yourself condemned, of arguing against the use of a

salutary principle altogether, on account of its being liable to

occasional abuse. When turned into the right direction, and applied to

its true purposes, it prompts to every dignified and generous

enterprise. It is erudition in the portico, skill in the lycaeum,

eloquence in the senate, victory in the field. It forces indolence into

activity, and extorts from vice itself the deeds of generosity and

virtue. When once the soul is warmed by its generous ardor, no

difficulties deter, no dangers terrify, no labours tire. It is this

which, giving by its stamp to what is virtuous and honourable its just

superiority over the gifts of birth and fortune, rescues the rich from a

base subjection to the pleasures of sense, and makes them prefer a

course of toil and hardship to a life of indulgence and ease. It

prevents the man of rank from acquiescing in his hereditary greatness,

and spurs him forward in pursuit of _personal_ distinction, and of a

nobility which he may justly term his own. It moderates and qualifies

the over-great inequalities of human conditions; and reaching to those

who are above the sphere of laws, and extending to cases which fall not

within their province, it limits and circumscribes the power of the

tyrant on his throne, and gives gentleness to war, and to pride,

humility.

"Nor is its influence confined to public life, nor is it known only in

the great and the splendid. To it is to be ascribed a large portion of

that courtesy and disposition to please, which naturally producing a

mutual appearance of good will, and a reciprocation of good offices,

constitute much of the comfort of private life, and give their choicest

sweets to social and domestic intercourse. Nay, from the force of habit,

it follows us even into solitude, and in our most secret retirements we

often act as if our conduct were subject to human observation, and we

derive no small complacency from the imaginary applauses of an ideal

spectator."

So far of the _effects_ of the love of praise and distinction: and if

after enumerating some of these, you should proceed to investigate its

_nature_, "We admit," it might be added, "that a hasty and misjudging

world often misapplies commendations and censures: and whilst we

therefore confess, that the praises of the discerning few are alone

truly valuable; we acknowledge that it were better if mankind were

always to act from the sense of right and the love of virtue, without

reference to the opinions of their fellow-creatures. We even allow,

that independently of consequences, this were perhaps in itself a higher

strain of virtue; but it is a degree of purity which it would be vain to

expect from the bulk of mankind. When the _intrinsic excellence_ of this

principle however is called in question, let it be remembered, that in

its higher degrees it was styled, by one who meant rather to detract

from its merits than to aggravate them, 'the infirmity of _noble_

minds;' and surely, that in such a soil it most naturally springs up,

and flourishes, is no mean proof of its exalted origin and generous

nature.

"But were these more dubious, and were it no more than a splendid error;

yet considering that it works so often in the right direction, it were

enough to urge in its behalf, that it is a principle of real _action_,

and approved energy. That, as much as practice is better than theory,

and solid realties than empty speculation, so much is it to be preferred

for general use before those higher principles of morals, which however

just and excellent in themselves, you would in vain attempt to bring

home to the 'business and bosoms of mankind' at large. Reject not then a

principle thus universal in its influence, thus valuable in its effects;

a principle, which, by whatever name you may please to call it, acts by

motives and considerations suited to our condition; and which, putting

it at the very lowest, must be confessed, in our present infirm state,

to be an habitual aid and an ever present support to the feebleness of

virtue! In a selfish world it produces the effects of disinterestedness,

and when public spirit is extinct, it supplies the want of patriotism.

Let us therefore with gratitude avail ourselves of its help, and not

relinquish the good which it freely offers, from we know not what vain

dreams of impracticable purity and unattainable perfection."

All this and much more might be urged by the advocates of this favourite

principle. It would be however no difficult task to shew that it by no

means merits this high eulogium. To say nothing of that larger part of

the argument of our opponents, which betrays, and even proceeds upon,

that mischievous notion of the innocence of error, against which we have

already entered our formal protest, the principle in question is

manifestly of a most inconstant and variable nature; as inconstant and

variable as the innumerably diversified modes of fashions, habits, and

opinions in different periods and societies. What it tolerates in one

age, it forbids in another; what in one country it prescribes and

applauds, in another it condemns and stigmatizes! Obviously and openly,

it often takes vice into its patronage, and sets itself in direct

opposition to virtue. It is calculated to produce rather the

_appearance_ than the _reality_ of excellence; and at best not to check

the _love_ but only the _commission_ of vice. Much of this indeed was

seen and acknowledged by the philosophers, and even by the poets, of the

Pagan world. They declaimed against it as a mutable and inconsistent

principle; they lamented the fatal effects which, under the name of

false glory, it had produced on the peace and happiness of mankind. They

condemned the pursuit of it when it led its followers out of the path of

virtue, and taught that the praise of the wise and of the good only was

to be desired.

But it was reserved for the page of Scripture to point out to us

distinctly, wherein it is apt to be essentially defective and vicious,

and to discover to us more fully its encroaching nature and dangerous

tendencies; teaching us at the same time, how, being purified from its

corrupt qualities, and reduced under just subordination, it may be

brought into legitimate exercise, and be directed to its true end.

In the sacred volume we are throughout reminded, that we are originally

the creatures of God's formation, and continual dependents on his

bounty. There too we learn the painful lesson of man's degradation and

unworthiness. We learn that humiliation and contrition are the tempers

of mind best suited to our fallen condition, and most acceptable in the

sight of our Creator. We learn that these (to the repression and

extinction of that spirit of arrogance and self-importance, so natural

to the heart of man) it should be our habitual care to cherish and

cultivate; studiously maintaining a continual sense, that, not only for

all the _natural_ advantages over others which we may possess, but that

for all our _moral_ superiority also, we are altogether indebted to the

unmerited goodness of God. It might perhaps be said to be the great end

and purpose of all revelation, and especially to be the design of the

Gospel, to reclaim us from our natural pride and selfishness, and their

fatal consequences; to bring us to a just sense of our weakness and

_depravity_; and to dispose us, with unfeigned humiliation, to abase

ourselves, and give glory to God. "No flesh may glory in his presence;

he that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord"--"The lofty looks of man

shall be humbled, and the haughtiness of men shall be bowed down, and

the Lord alone shall be exalted[76]."

These solemn admonitions are too generally disregarded, and their

intimate connection with the subject we are now considering, appears to

have been often entirely overlooked, even by Christian moralists. These

authors, without reference to the main spring, and internal principle of

conduct, are apt to speak of the love of human applause, as being

meritorious or culpable, as being the desire of true or of false glory,

accordingly as the external actions it produces, and the pursuits to

which it prompts, are beneficial or mischievous to mankind. But it is

undeniably manifest, that in the judgment of the word of God, the love

of worldly admiration and applause is in its _nature_ essentially and

radically corrupt; so far as it partakes of a disposition to exalt and

aggrandize ourselves, to pride ourselves on our natural or acquired

endowments, or to assume to ourselves the merit and credit of our good

qualities, instead of ascribing all the honour and glory where only they

are due. Its _guilt_ therefore in these cases, is not to be measured by

its effects on the happiness of mankind; nor is it to be denominated

_true or false_ glory, accordingly as the ends to which it is directed

are beneficial or mischievous, just or unjust objects of pursuit; but it

is _false_, because it exalts that which ought to be abased, and

_criminal_, because it encroaches on the prerogative of God.

The Scriptures further instruct us, not merely that mankind are liable

to error, and therefore that the world's commendations _may be_

sometimes mistaken; but that their judgment being darkened and their

hearts depraved, its applauses and contempt will for the most part be

systematically misplaced; that though the beneficent and disinterested

spirit of Christianity, and her obvious tendency to promote domestic

comfort and general happiness, cannot but extort applause; yet that her

aspiring after more than ordinary excellence, by exciting secret

misgivings in others, or a painful sense of inferiority not unmixed with

envy, cannot fail often to disgust and offend. The word of God teaches

us, that though such of the doctrines and precepts of Christianity, as

are coincident with worldly interests and pursuits, and with worldly

principles and systems, may be professed without offence; yet, that what

is opposite to these, or even different from them, will be deemed

needlessly precise and strict, the indulgence of a morose and gloomy

humour, the symptoms of a contracted and superstitious spirit, the marks

of a mean, enslaved, or distorted understanding. That for these and

other reasons, the follower of Christ must not only make up his mind to

the _occasional relinquishment_ of worldly favour, but that it should

even afford him matter of holy jealousy and suspicion of himself, when

it is very lavishly and very generally bestowed.

But though the standard of worldly estimation differed less from that of

the Gospel; yet since our affections ought to be set on heavenly things,

and conversant about heavenly objects; and since in particular the love

and favour of God ought to be the matter of our supreme and habitual

desire, to which every other should be subordinated; it follows, that

the love of human applause must be manifestly injurious, so far as it

tends to draw down our regards to earthly concerns, and to bound and

circumscribe our desires within the narrow limits of this world.

Particularly, that it is _impure_, so far as it is tinctured with a

disposition to estimate too highly, and love too well, the good opinion

and commendations of man.

But though, by these and other instructions and considerations, the Holy

Scripture warns us against the inordinate desire or earnest pursuit of

worldly estimation and honour; though it so greatly reduces their value,

and prepares us for losing them without surprise, and for relinquishing

them with little reluctance: yet it teaches us, that Christians in

general are not only not called upon absolutely and voluntarily to

renounce or forego them; but that when, without our having solicitously

sought them, they are bestowed on us for actions intrinsically good, we

are to accept them as being intended by Providence, to be sometimes,

even in this disorderly state of things, a present solace, and a reward

to virtue. Nay more, we are instructed, that in our general deportment,

that in little particulars of conduct otherwise indifferent, that in the

_circumstances_ and _manner_ of performing actions in themselves of a

determined character and indispensable obligation, (guarding however

against the smallest degree of artifice or deceit) that by watching for

opportunities of doing little kindnesses, that by avoiding

singularities, and even humouring prejudices, where it may be done

without the slightest infringment on truth or duty, we ought to have a

due respect and regard to the approbation and favour of men. These

however we should not value, chiefly as they may administer to our own

gratification, but rather as furnishing means and instruments of

influence, which we may turn to good account, by making them subservient

to the improvement and happiness of our fellow creatures, and thus

conducive to the _glory of God_. The remark is almost superfluous, that

on occasions like these we must even watch our hearts with the most

jealous care, lest pride and self love insensibly infuse themselves, and

corrupt the purity of principles so liable to contract a taint.

Credit and reputation, in the judgment of the true Christian, stand on

ground not very different from riches; which he is not to prize highly,

or to desire and pursue with solicitude; but which, when they are

allotted to him by the hand of Providence, he is to accept with

thankfulness, and use with moderation; relinquishing them when it

becomes necessary, without a murmur; guarding most circumspectly, so

long as they remain with him, against that sensual and selfish temper,

and no less against that pride and wantonness of heart, which they are

too apt to produce and cherish; thus considering them as in themselves

acceptable, but, from the infirmity of his nature, as highly dangerous

possessions, and valuing them chiefly not as instruments of luxury or

splendour, but as affording the means of honouring his heavenly

Benefactor, and lessening the miseries of mankind.

Christianity however, as was formerly observed, proposes not to

extinguish our natural desires, but to bring them under just controul,

and direct them to their true objects. In the case both of riches and of

honour, she maintains the consistency of her character. While she

commands us not to set our hearts on _earthly_ treasures, she reminds us

that "we have in _Heaven_ a better and more enduring substance" than

this world can bestow; and while she represses our solicitude respecting

earthly credit, and moderates our attachment to it, she holds forth to

us, and bids us habitually to aspire after, the splendours of that

better state, where is true glory, and honour, and immortality; thus

exciting in us a just ambition, suited to our high origin, and worthy of

our large capacities, which the little, misplaced, and perishable

distinctions of this life would in vain attempt to satisfy.

It would be mere waste of time to enter into any laboured argument to

prove at large, that the light in which worldly credit and estimation

are regarded, by the bulk of professed Christians, is extremely

different from that in which they are placed by the page of Scripture.

The _inordinate_ love of _worldly glory_ indeed, implies a passion,

which from the nature of things cannot be called into exercise in the

generality of mankind, because, being conversant about great objects, it

can but rarely find that field which is requisite for its exertions. But

we every where discover the same principle reduced to the dimensions of

common life, and modified and directed according to every one's sphere

of action. We may discover it in a supreme love of distinction, and

admiration, and praise; in the universal acceptableness of flattery; and

above all in the excessive valuation of our worldly character, in that

watchfulness with which it is guarded, in that jealousy when it is

questioned, in that solicitude when it is in danger, in that hot

resentment when it is attacked, in that bitterness of suffering when it

is impaired or lost. All these emotions, as they are too manifest to be

disputed, so are they too reputable to be denied. Dishonour, disgrace,

and shame present images of horror too dreadful to be faced; they are

evils, which it is thought the mark of a generous spirit to consider as

excluding every idea of comfort and enjoyment, and to feel, in short, as

too heavy to be borne.

The consequences of all this are natural and obvious. Though it be not

openly avowed, that we are to follow after worldly estimation, or to

escape from worldly disrepute, when they can only be pursued or avoided

by declining from the path of duty; nay though the contrary be

recognized as being the just opinion; yet all the effect of this

speculative concession is soon done away _in fact_. Estimating worldly

credit as of the highest intrinsic excellence, and worldly shame as the

greatest of all possible evils, we sometimes shape and turn the path of

duty itself from its true direction, so as it may favour our acquisition

of the one, and avoidance of the other; or when this cannot be done, we

boldly and openly turn aside from it, declaring the temptation is too

strong to be resisted.

It were easy to adduce numerous proofs of the truth of these assertions.

It is proved, indeed, by that general tendency in Religion to conceal

herself from the view, (for we might hope that in these cases she often

is by no means altogether extinct) by her being apt to vanish from our

conversations, and even to give place to a pretended licentiousness of

sentiments and conduct, and a false shew of infidelity. It is proved, by

that complying acquiescence and participation in the habits and manners

of this dissipated age, which, has almost confounded every external

distinction between the Christian and the Infidel, and has made it so

rare to find any one who dares incur the charge of Christian

singularity, or who can say with the Apostle that "he is not ashamed of

the Gospel of Christ." It is proved (how can this proof be omitted by

one to whose lot it has so often fallen to witness and lament, sometimes

he fears to afford an instance of it?) by that quick resentment, those

bitter contentions, those angry retorts, those malicious triumphs, that

impatience of inferiority, that wakeful sense of past defeats, and

promptness to revenge them, which too often change the character of a

Christian deliberative Assembly, into that of a stage for prize

fighters: violating at once the proprieties of public conduct, and the

rules of social decorum, and renouncing and chasing away all the

charities of the Religion of Jesus!

But from all lesser proofs, our attention is drawn to one of a still

larger size, and more determined character. Surely the reader will here

anticipate our mention of the practice of Duelling: a practice which, to

the disgrace of a Christian society, has long been suffered to exist

with little restraint or opposition.

This practice, whilst it powerfully supports, mainly rests on, that

excessive over-valuation of character, which teaches that worldly credit

is to be preserved at _any_ rate, and disgrace at _any_ rate to be

avoided. The _unreasonableness_ of duelling has been often proved, and

it has often been shewn to be criminal on various principles: sometimes

it has been opposed on grounds hardly tenable; particularly when it has

been considered as an indication of malice and revenge[77]. But it

seems hardly to have been enough noticed in what chiefly consists its

_essential_ guilt; that it is a deliberate preference of the favour of

man, before the favour and approbation of God, _in articulo mortis_, in

an instance, wherein our own life, and that of a fellow creature are at

stake, and wherein we run the risk of rushing into the presence of our

Maker in the very act of offending him. It would detain us too long, and

it were somewhat beside our present purpose, to enumerate the

mischievous consequences which result from this practice. They are many

and great; and if regard be had merely to the temporal interests of men,

and to the well being of society, they are but poorly counterbalanced by

the plea, which must be admitted in its behalf by a candid observer of

human nature, of a courtesy and refinement in our modern manners unknown

to ancient times.

But there is one observation which must not be omitted, and which seems

to have been too much overlooked: In the judgment of that Religion which

requires purity of heart, and of that Being to whom, as was before

remarked, "thought is action," he cannot be esteemed innocent of this

crime, who lives in a settled habitual determination to commit it, when

circumstances shall call upon him so to do[78]. This is a consideration

which places the crime of duelling on a different footing from almost

any other; indeed there is perhaps NO other, which mankind habitually

and deliberately resolve to practise whenever the temptation shall

occur. It shews also that the crime of duelling is far more general in

the higher classes than is commonly supposed, and that the whole sum of

the guilt which the practice produces is great, beyond what has perhaps

been ever conceived! It will be the writer's comfort to have solemnly

suggested this consideration, to the consciences of those by whom this

impious practice might be suppressed: If such there be, which he is

strongly inclined to believe, their's is the crime, and their's the

responsibility of suffering it to continue[79].

In the foregoing observations, it has not been the writer's intention to

discuss completely that copious subject, the love of worldly estimation.

It would be to exceed the limits of a work like this, fully to

investigate so large, and at the same time so important a topic. Enough

however may have perhaps been said, to make it evident that this

principle is of a character highly _questionable_; that it should be

brought under absolute subjection, and watched with the most jealous

care: That, notwithstanding its lofty pretensions, it often can by no

means justly boast that high origin and exalted nature, which its

superficial admirers are disposed to concede to it. What real intrinsic

essential value, it might be asked, does there appear to be in a

virtue, which had wholly changed its nature and character, if public

opinion had been different? But it is in truth of base extraction, and

ungenerous qualities, springing from selfishness and vanity, and low

ambition; by these it subsists, and thrives, and acts; and envy, and

jealousy, and detraction, and hatred, and variance, are its too faithful

and natural associates. It is, to say the best of it, a root which bears

fruits of a poisonous as well as of a beneficial quality. If it

sometimes stimulates to great and generous enterprises, if it urges to

industry, and sometimes to excellence, if in the more contracted sphere

it produces courtesy and kindness; yet to its account we must place the

ambition which desolates nations, and many of the competitions and

resentments which interrupt the harmony of social life. The former

indeed has been often laid to its charge, but the latter have not been

sufficiently attended to; and still less has its _noxious_ influence on

the vital principle, and distinguishing graces of the Christian

character, been duly pointed out and enforced.

To read indeed the writings of certain Christian moralists,[80] and to

observe how little they seem disposed to call it in question, except

where it raves in the conqueror, one should be almost tempted to

suspect; that, considering it as a principle of such potency and

prevalence, as that they must despair of bringing it into just

subjection, they were intent only on complimenting it into good humour

(like those barbarous nations which worship the evil Spirit through

fear;) or rather, that they were making a sort of composition with an

enemy they could not master, and were willing, on condition of its

giving up the trade of war, to suffer it to rule undisturbed, and range

at pleasure.

But the truth is, that the reasonings of Christian moralists too often

exhibit but few traces of the genius of Christian morality. Of this

position, the case before us is an instance. This principle of the

desire of worldly distinction and applause, is often allowed, and even

commended, with too few qualifications, and too little reserve. To covet

wealth is base and sordid, but to covet honour is treated as the mark of

a generous and exalted nature. These writers scarcely seem to bear in

mind, that though the principle in question tends to prevent the

commission of those grosser acts of vice which would injure us in the

general estimation; yet that it not only stops there, but that it there

begins to exert almost an equal force in the opposite direction. They do

not consider how apt this principle is, even in the case of those who

move in a contracted sphere, to fill us with vain conceits, and vicious

passions; and above all how it tends to fix the affections on earthly

things, and to steal away the heart from God. They acknowledge it to be

criminal when it produces mischievous effects, but forget how apt it is,

by the substitution of a false and corrupt motive, to vitiate the purity

of our good actions, depriving them of all which rendered them truly and

essentially valuable. That, not to be too hastily approved, because it

takes the side of virtue, it often works her ruin while it asserts her

cause, and like some vile seducer, pretends affection only the more

surely to betray.

It is the distinguishing glory of Christianity not to rest satisfied

with superficial appearances, but to rectify the _motives_, and purify

the _heart_. The true Christian, in obedience to the lessons of

Scripture, no where keeps over himself a more resolute and jealous

guard, than where the desire of human estimation and distinction is in

question. No where does he more deeply feel the insufficiency of his

unassisted strength, or more diligently and earnestly pray for divine

assistance. He may well indeed watch and pray against the encroachments

of a passion, which, when suffered to transgress its just limits,

discovers a peculiar hostility to the distinguishing graces of the

Christian temper; a passion which must insensibly acquire force, because

it is in continual exercise; to which almost every thing _without_

administers nutriment, and the growth of which _within_ is favoured and

cherished by such powerful auxiliaries as pride and selfishness, the

natural and perhaps inexterminable inhabitants of the human heart; of

which the predominance, if established, is thus so pernicious, and which

possesses so many advantages for effecting its establishment.

Strongly impressed therefore with a sense of the indispensable necessity

of guarding against the progress of this encroaching principle, in

humble reliance on superior aid, the true Christian thankfully uses the

means, and habitually exercises himself in the considerations and

motives, suggested to him for that purpose by the word of God. He is

much occupied in searching out, and contemplating his own infirmities.

He endeavours to acquire and maintain a just conviction of his great

unworthiness; and to keep in continual remembrance, that whatever

distinguishes himself from others, is not properly his own, but that he

is altogether indebted for it to the undeserved bounty of Heaven. He

diligently endeavours also, habitually to preserve a _just_ sense of the

real worth of human distinction and applause, knowing that he shall

covet them less when he has learned not to over-rate their value. He

labours to bear in mind, how undeservedly they are often bestowed, how

precariously they are always possessed. The censures of good men justly

render him suspicious of himself, and prompt him carefully and

impartially to examine into those parts of his character, or those

particulars of his conduct, which have drawn on him their

animadversions. The favourable opinion and the praises of good men are

justly acceptable to him, where they accord with the testimony of his

own heart; that testimony being thereby confirmed and warranted. Those

praises favour also and strengthen the growth of mutual confidence and

affection, where it is his delight to form friendships, rich not less in

use than comfort, and to establish connections which may last for ever.

But even in the case of the commendations of good men, he suffers not

himself to be beguiled into an over-valuation of them, lest he should be

led to substitute them in the place of conscience. He guards against

this by reflecting how indistinctly we can discern each other's motives,

how little enter into each other's circumstances, how mistaken therefore

may be the judgments formed of us, or of our actions, even by good men,

and that it is far from improbable, that we may at some time be

compelled to forfeit their esteem, by adhering to the dictates of our

own consciences.

But if he endeavours thus to set loose to the favour and applause even

of good men, much more to those of the world at large; not but that he

is sensible of their worth as means and instruments of usefulness and

influence; and under the limitations and for the ends allowed in

Scripture (these it is needless to repeat) he is glad to possess,

observant to acquire, and careful to retain them. He considers them

however, if we may again introduce the metaphor, like the precious

metals, as having rather an exchangeable than an intrinsic value, as

desirable not simply in their possession, but in their use. In this

view, he holds himself to be responsible for that share of them which he

enjoys, and, to continue the figure, as bound not to let them lie by him

unemployed, this were hoarding; not to lavish them prodigally, this

would be waste; not imprudently to misapply them, this were folly and

caprice: but as under an obligation to regard them as conferred upon him

that they might be brought into action, and as what therefore he may by

no means throw away, though ready, if it be required, to relinquish them

with cheerfulness; and never feeling himself at liberty, in

consideration of the use he intends to make of them, to acquire or

retain them unlawfully. He holds it to be his bounden duty to seek

diligently for occasions of rendering them subservient to their true

purposes; and when any such occasion is found, to expend them cheerfully

and liberally, but with discretion and frugality; being no less prudent

in determining the measure, than in selecting the objects of their

application, that they may go the farther by being thus managed with

oeconomy.

Acting therefore on these principles, he will studiously and diligently

use any degree of worldly credit he may enjoy, in removing or lessening

prejudices; in conciliating good-will, and thereby making way for the

less obstructed progress of truth; and in providing for its being

entertained with candour, or even with favour, by those who would bar

all access against it in any rougher or more homely form. He will make

it his business to set on foot and forward benevolent and useful

schemes; and where they require united efforts, to obtain and preserve

for them this co-operation. He will endeavour to discountenance vice, to

bring modest merit into notice; to lend as it were his light to men of

real worth, but of less creditable name, and perhaps of less

conciliating qualities and manners; that they may thus shine with a

reflected lustre, and be useful in their turn, when invested with their

just estimation. But while by these and various other means he strives

to render his reputation, so long as he possesses it, subservient to the

great ends of advancing the cause of Religion and Virtue, and of

promoting the happiness and comfort of mankind, he will not transgress

the rule of the Scripture precepts in order to obtain, to cultivate, or

to preserve it, resolutely disclaiming that dangerous sophistry of

"doing evil that good may come." Ready however to relinquish his

reputation when required so to do, he will not throw it away; and so far

as he allowably may, he will cautiously avoid occasions of diminishing

it, instead of studiously seeking, or needlessly multiplying them, as

seems sometimes to have been the practice of worthy but imprudent men.

There will be no capricious humours, no selfish tempers, no moroseness,

no discourtesy, no affected severity of deportment, no peculiarity of

language, no indolent neglect, or wanton breach, of the ordinary forms

or fashions of society. His reputation is a possession capable of uses

too important to be thus sported away; if sacrificed at all, it shall be

sacrificed at the call of duty. The world shall be constrained to allow

him to be amiable, as well as respectable in other parts of his

character; though in what regards Religion, they may account him

unreasonably precise and strict. In this no less than in other

particulars, he will endeavour to reduce the enemies of Religion to

adopt the confession of the accusers of the Jewish ruler, "we shall not

find any fault or occasion against this Daniel--except concerning the

law of his God:" and even there, if he give offence, it will only be

where he dares not do otherwise; and if he fall into dis-esteem or

disgrace it shall not be chargeable to any conduct which is justly

dishonourable, or even to any unnecessary singularities on his part, but

to the false standard of estimation of a misjudging world. When his

character is thus mistaken, or his conduct thus misconstrued, he will

not wrap himself up in a mysterious sullenness; but will be ready, where

he thinks any one will listen to him with patience and candour, to clear

up what has been dubious, to explain what has been imperfectly known,

and "speaking the truth in love" to correct, if it may be, the erroneous

impressions which have been conceived of him. He may sometimes feel it

his duty publicly to vindicate his character from unjust reproach, and

to repel the false charges of his enemies; but he will carefully however

watch against being led away by pride, or being betrayed into some

breach of truth or of Christian charity, when he is treading in a path

so dangerous. At such a time he will also guard, with more than ordinary

circumspection, against any undue solicitude about his worldly

reputation for its own sake; and when he has done what duty requires for

its vindication, he will sit down with a peaceable and quiet mind, and

it will be matter of no very deep concern to him if his endeavours

should have been ineffectual. If good men in every age and nation have

been often unjustly calumniated and disgraced, and if, in such

circumstances, even the darkness of paganism has been able contentedly

to repose itself on the consciousness of innocence, shall one who is

cheered by the Christian's hope, who is assured also, that a day will

shortly come in which whatever is secret shall be made manifest, and the

mistaken judgments of men, perhaps even of good men, being corrected,

that "he shall then have praise of God;" shall such an one, I say, sink?

shall he even bend or droop under such a trial? They might be more

excusable in over-valuing human reputation to whom all beyond the grave

was dark and cheerless. They also might be more easily pardoned for

pursuing with some degree of eagerness and solicitude that glory which

might survive them, thus seeking as it were to extend the narrow span of

their earthly existence: but far different is our case, to whom these

clouds are rolled away, and "life and immortality brought to light by

the Gospel." Not but that worldly favour and distinction are amongst the

best things this world has to offer: but the Christian knows it is the

very condition of his calling, _not_ to have his portion here; and as in

the case of any other earthly enjoyments, so in that also of worldly

honour, he dreads, lest his supreme affections being thereby gratified,

it should be hereafter said to him "remember that thou in thy life time

receivedst thy good things."

He is required by his holy calling to be victorious over the world; and

to this victory, the conquest of the dread of its dis-esteem and

dishonour is essentially and indispensably required. He reflects on

those holy men who "had trial of cruel mockings;" he remembers that our

blessed Saviour himself "was despised and rejected of men;" and what is

he, that he should be exempted from the common lot, or think it much to

bear the scandal of his profession? If therefore he is creditable and

popular, he considers this, if the phrase may be pardoned, as something

beyond his bargain; and he watches himself, with double care, lest he

should grow over-fond of what he may be shortly called upon to

relinquish. He meditates often on the probability of his being involved

in such circumstances, as may render it necessary for him to subject

himself to disgrace and obloquy; thus familiarizing himself with them

betimes, and preparing himself, that when the trying hour arrives they

may not take him unawares.

But the cultivation of the desire of "that honour which cometh from

God," he finds the most effectual means of bringing his mind into a

proper temper, in what regards the love of human approbation. Christian!

would thou indeed reduce this affection under just controul--_sursum

corda!_ Rise on the wings of contemplation, until the praises and the

censures of men die away upon the ear, and the still small voice of

conscience is no longer drowned by the din of this nether world. Here

the sight is apt to be occupied with earthly objects, and the hearing to

be engrossed with earthly sounds; but there thou shalt come within the

view of that resplendent and incorruptible crown, which is held forth to

thy acceptance in the realms of light, and thine ear shall be regaled

with Heavenly melody! Here we dwell in a variable atmosphere--the

prospect is at one time darkened by the gloom of disgrace, and at

another the eye is dazzled by the gleamings of glory: but thou hast now

ascended above this inconstant region; no storms agitate, no clouds

obscure the air, and the lightnings play, and the thunders roll beneath

thee.

Thus, at chosen seasons, the Christian exercises himself; and when, from

this elevated region he descends into the plain below, and mixes in the

bustle of life, he still retains the impressions of his more retired

hours. By these he realizes to himself the unseen world; he accustoms

himself to speak and act as in the presence of "an innumerable company

of angels, and of the spirits of just men made perfect, and of God the

Judge of all;" the consciousness of _their_ approbation cheers and

gladdens his soul, under the scoffs and reproaches of an undiscerning

world, and to his delighted ear, their united praises form a _harmony_

which a few discordant earthly voices cannot interrupt.

But though the Christian be sometimes enabled thus to triumph over the

inordinate love of human applause, he does not therefore deem himself

secure from its encroachments. On the contrary, he is aware, so strong

and active is its principle of vitality, that even where it seems

extinct, let but circumstances favour its revival, and it will spring

forth again in renewed vigour. And as his watch must thus during life

know no termination, because the enemy will ever be at hand; so it must

be the more close and vigilant, because he is no where free from danger,

but is on every side open to attack. "Sume superbiam quaesitam meritis,"

was the maxim of a worldly moralist: but the Christian is aware, that he

is particularly assailable where he really excels; there he is in

especial danger, lest his motives, originally pure, being insensibly

corrupted, he should be betrayed into an anxiety about worldly favour,

false in principle or excessive in degree, when he is endeavouring to

render his virtue amiable and respected in the eyes of others, and in

obedience to the Scripture injunction, is willing to let his "light so

shine before men, that they may see his good works, and glorify his

Father which is in heaven."

He watches himself also on small as well as on great occasions: the

latter indeed, in the case of many persons, can hardly ever be expected

to occur, whereas the former are continually presenting themselves: and

thus, whilst on the one hand they may be rendered highly useful in

forming and strengthening a just habit of mind in the particular in

question; so, on the other, they are the means most at hand for enabling

us to discover our own real character. Let not this be slightly passed

over. If any one finds himself shrinking from disrepute or dis-esteem in

little instances; but apt to solace himself with the persuasion, that

his spirits being fully called forth to the encounter, he could boldly

stand the brunt of sharper trials; let him be slow to give entertainment

to so beguiling a suggestion; and let him not forget that these little

instances, where no credit is to be got, and the vainest can find small

room for self-complacency, furnish perhaps the truest tests whether we

are ashamed of the Gospel of Christ, and are willing, on principles

really pure, to bear reproach for the name of Jesus.

The Christian too is well aware that the excessive desire of human

approbation is a passion of so subtile a nature, that there is nothing

into which it cannot penetrate; and from much experience, learning to

discover it where it would lurk unseen, and to detect it under its more

specious disguises, he finds, that elsewhere disallowed and excluded, it

is apt to insinuate itself into his very religion, where it especially

delights to dwell, and obstinately maintains its residence. Proud piety

and ostentatious charity, and all the more open effects it there

produces, have been often condemned, and we may discover the tendencies

to them in ourselves, without difficulty. But where it appears not so

large in bulk, and in shape so unambiguous, let its operation be still

suspected. Let not the Christian suffer himself to be deceived by any

external dissimilitudes between himself and the world around him,

trusting perhaps to the sincerity of the principle to which they

originally owed their rise; but let him beware lest through the

insensible encroachments of the subtle usurper, his religion should at

length have "only a name to live," being gradually robbed of its

vivifying principle; lest he should be mainly preserved in his religious

course by the dread of incurring the charge of levity, for quitting a

path on which he had deliberately entered. Or where, on a strict and

impartial scrutiny of his governing motives, he may fairly conclude

this not to be the case, let him beware lest he be influenced by this

principle in particular parts of his character, and especially where any

external singularities are in question; closely scrutinizing his

apparent motives, lest he should be prompted to his more than ordinary

religious observances, and be kept from participating in the licentious

pleasures of a dissipated age, not so much by a vigorous principle of

internal holiness, as by a fear of lessening himself in the good opinion

of the stricter circle of his associates, or of suffering even in the

estimation of the world at large, by violating the proprieties of his

assumed character.

To those who, in the important particular which we have been so long

discussing, wish to conform themselves to the injunctions of the word of

God, we must advise a laborious watchfulness, a jealous guard, a close

and frequent scrutiny of their own hearts, that they may not mistake

their real character, and too late find themselves to have been

mistaken, as to what they had conceived to be their governing motives.

Above all, let them labour, with humble prayers for the Divine

assistance, to fix in themselves a deep, habitual, and practical sense

of the excellence of "that honour which cometh from God," and of the

comparative worthlessness of all earthly estimation and pre-eminence. In

truth, unless the affections of the soul be thus predominantly engaged

on the side of heavenly in preference to that of human honour, though we

may have relinquished the pursuit of fame, we shall not have acquired

that firm contexture of mind, which can bear disgrace and shame, without

yielding to the pressure. Between these two states there is a wide

interval, and he who, on a sober review of his conduct and motives,

finds reason to believe he has arrived at the one, must not therefore

conclude he has reached the other. To the one, a little natural

moderation and quietness of temper may be sufficient to conduct us: but

to the other, we can only attain by much discipline and slow advances;

and when we think we have made great way, we shall often find reason to

confess in the hour of trial, that we had greatly, far too greatly,

over-rated our progress.

When engaged too in the prosecution of this course, we must be aware of

the snares which lie in our way, and of the deceits to which we are

liable: and we must be provided against these impositions, by having

obtained a full and distinct conception of the temper of mind with

regard to human favour, which is prescribed to us in Scripture; and by

continually examining our hearts and lives to ascertain how far they

correspond with it. This will prevent our substituting contemplation in

the place of action, and giving ourselves too much up to those religious

meditations which were formerly recommended, in which we must not

indulge to the neglect of the common _duties_ of life: this will prevent

our mistaking the gratification of an indolent temper for the

Christian's disregard of fame; for, never let it be forgotten, we must

_deserve_ estimation, though we may not _possess_ it, forcing men of the

_world_ to acknowledge, that we do not want their boasted spring of

action to set us in motion; but that its place is better supplied to us

by another, which produces all the good of their's without its evil;

thus demonstrating the superiority of the principle which animates us,

by the superior utility and excellence of its effects. This principle,

in order to be pure and genuine, though nerved with more than mortal

firmness, must be sweetened by love, and tempered with humility. The

former of these qualities will render us kind, friendly, and beneficent,

preventing our being no longer on the watch to promote the happiness or

comfort of others, than whilst we are stimulated by the desire of their

applause; the produce of which passion, whatever may be vaunted of its

effects on social intercourse, is often nothing better than selfishness,

but ill concealed under a superficial covering of exterior courtesy.

Humility, again, reducing us in our own value, will moderate our claims

on worldly estimation. It will check our tendency to ostentation and

display, prompting us rather to avoid, than to attract notice. It will

dispose us to sit down in quiet obscurity, though, judging ourselves

impartially, we believe ourselves better entitled to credit, than those

on whom it is conferred; closing the entrance against a proud, painful,

and malignant passion, from which, under such circumstances, we can

otherwise be hardly free, the passion of "high disdain from sense of

injured merit."

Love and humility will concur in producing a frame of mind, not more

distinct from an ardent thirst of glory, than from that frigid

disregard, or insolent contempt, or ostentatious renunciation of human

favour and distinction, which we have sometimes seen opposed to it.

These latter qualities may not infrequently be traced to a slothful,

sensual, and selfish temper; to the consciousness of being unequal to

any great and generous attempts; to the disappointment of schemes of

ambition or of glory; to a little personal experience of the world's

capricious and inconstant humour. The renunciation in these cases,

however sententious, is often far from sincere; and it is even made not

unfrequently, with a view to the attainment of that very distinction

which it affects to disclaim. In some other of these instances, the

over-valuation and inordinate desire of worldly credit, however

disavowed, are abundantly evident, from the merit which is assumed for

relinquishing them; or from that sour and surly humour, which betrays a

gloomy and a corroded mind, galled and fretting under the irritating

sense of the want of that which it most wishes to possess.

But the Christian's is a far different temper: not a temper of sordid

sensuality, or lazy apathy, or dogmatizing pride, or disappointed

ambition: more truly independent of worldly estimation than philosophy

with all her boasts, it forms a perfect contrast to Epicurean

selfishness, and to Stoical pride, and to Cynical brutality. It is a

temper compounded of firmness, and complacency, and peace, and love; and

manifesting itself in acts of kindness and of courtesy; a kindness, not

pretended but genuine; a courtesy, not false and superficial, but

cordial and sincere. In the hour of popularity it is not intoxicated, or

insolent; in the hour of unpopularity, it is not desponding or morose;

unshaken in constancy, unwearied in benevolence, firm without roughness,

and assiduous without servility.

Notwithstanding the great importance of the topic which we have been

investigating, it will require much indulgence on the part of the

reader, to excuse the disproportionate length into which the discussion

has been almost insensibly drawn out: yet this, it is hoped, may not be

without its uses, if the writer have in any degree succeeded in his

endeavour, to point out the dangerous qualities and unchristian

tendencies of a principle, of such general predominance throughout the

higher classes of society, and to suggest to the serious inquirer some

practical hints for its regulation and controul. Since the principle

too, of which we have been treating, is one of the most ordinary

modifications of pride; the discussion may also serve in some degree to

supply a manifest deficiency, a deficiency to be ascribed to the fear of

trespassing too far on the reader's patience, in having but slightly

touched on the allowed prevalence of that master passion, and on the

allowed neglect of its opposite, humility.

SECTION IV.

_The generally prevailing Error, of substituting amiable Tempers and

useful Lives in the place of Religion, stated and confuted; with Hints

to real Christians._

There is another practical error very generally prevalent, the effects

of which are highly injurious to the cause of Religion; and which in

particular is often brought forward when, upon Christian principles, any

advocates for Christianity would press the practice of Christian

virtues. Before we proceed, therefore, to comment upon what remains to

be discussed, of the misconceptions and defects of the bulk of professed

Christians, it may not be amiss to dispose of this objection to our

whole scheme.

The error in question is that of exaggerating the merit of certain

amiable and useful qualities, and of considering them as of themselves

sufficient to compensate for the want of the supreme love and fear of

God.

It seems to be an opinion pretty generally prevalent, that kindness and

sweetness of temper; sympathizing, and benevolent, and generous

affections; attention to what in the world's estimation are the

domestic, relative, and social duties; and above all a life of general

activity and usefulness, may well be allowed, in our imperfect state, to

make up for the defect of what in strict propriety of speech is termed

Religion.

Many indeed will unreservedly declare, and more will hint the opinion,

that "the difference between the qualities above-mentioned and Religion,

is rather a verbal or logical, than a real and essential difference; for

in truth what are they but Religion in substance if not in name? Is it

not the great end of Religion, and in particular the glory of

Christianity, to extinguish the malignant passions; to curb the

violence, to controul the appetites, and to smooth the asperities of

man; to make us compassionate and kind, and forgiving one to another; to

make us good husbands, good fathers, good friends, and to render us

active and useful in the discharge of the relative, social, and civil

duties? We do not deny that in the general mass of society, and

particularly in the lower orders, such conduct and tempers cannot be

diffused and maintained by any other medium than that of Religion. But

if the end be effected, surely it is only unnecessary refinement to

dispute about the means. It is even to forget your own principles; and

to refuse its just place to solid practical virtue, while you assign too

high a value to speculative opinions."

Thus a fatal distinction is admitted between Morality and Religion: a

great and desperate error, of which it is the more necessary to take

notice; because many who would condemn, as too strong, the language in

which this opinion is sometimes openly avowed, are yet more or less

tinctured with the notion itself; and under the habitual and almost

unperceived influence of this beguiling suggestion, are vainly solacing

their imaginations, and repressing their well-grounded fears concerning

_their own_ state; and are also quieting their just solicitude

concerning the spiritual condition of _others_, and soothing themselves

in the neglect of friendly endeavours for their improvement.

There can hardly be a stronger proof of the cursory and superficial

views, with which men are apt to satisfy themselves in religious

concerns, than the prevalence of the opinion here in question; the

falsehood and sophistry of which must be acknowledged by any one who,

admitting the authority of Scripture, will examine it with ever so

little seriousness and impartiality of mind.

Appealing indeed to a less strict standard, it would not be difficult to

shew that the moral worth of these sweet and benevolent tempers, and of

these useful lives, is apt to be greatly over-rated. The former

involuntarily gain upon our affections and disarm our severer judgments,

by their kindly, complying, and apparently disinterested nature; by

their prompting men to flatter instead of mortifying our pride, to

sympathize either with our joys or our sorrows, to abound in obliging

attentions and offices of courtesy; by their obvious tendency to produce

and maintain harmony and comfort in social and domestic life. It is not

however unworthy of remark, that from the commendations which are so

generally bestowed on these qualities, and their rendering men

universally acceptable and popular, there is many a false pretender to

them, who gains a credit for them which he by no means deserves; in whom

they are no more than the proprieties of his assumed character, or even

a mask which is worn in public, only the better to conceal an opposite

temper. Would you see this man of courtesy and sweetness stripped of his

false covering, follow him unobserved into his family; and you shall

behold, too plain to be mistaken, selfishness and spleen harassing and

vexing the wretched subjects of their unmanly tyranny; as if being

released at length from their confinement, they were making up to

themselves for the restraint which had been imposed on them in the

world.

But where the benevolent qualities are genuine, they often deserve the

name rather of amiable instincts, than of moral virtues. In many cases,

they imply no mental conflict, no previous discipline: they are apt to

evaporate in barren sensibilities, and transitory sympathies, and

indolent wishes, and unproductive declarations: they possess not that

strength and energy of character, which, in contempt of difficulties and

dangers, produce alacrity in service, vigour and perseverance in action.

Destitute of proper firmness, they often encourage that vice and folly

which it is their especial duty to repress; and it is well if, from

their soft complying humour, they are not often drawn in to participate

in what is wrong, as well as to connive at it. Thus their possessors

are frequently, in the eye of truth and reason, bad magistrates, bad

parents, bad friends; defective in those very qualities, which give to

each of those several relations its chief and appropriate value. And

this, let it be also observed, is a defect which might well bring into

question that freedom from selfishness, which is so often claimed for

them; inasmuch as there is too great reason to fear, that it often

arises in us chiefly from indisposition to submit to a painful effort,

though real good-will commands the sacrifice, or from the fear of

lessening the regard in which we are held, and the good opinion which is

entertained of us.

It should farther also be observed concerning these qualities, when they

are not grounded and rooted in religion, that they are of a sickly and

short-lived nature, and want that hardy and vigorous temperament, which

is requisite for enabling them to bear without injury, or even to

survive, the rude shocks and the variable and churlish seasons, to which

in such a world as this they must ever be exposed. It is only a

_Christian_ love of which it is the character, that "it suffereth long,

and yet is kind;" "that it is not easily provoked, that it beareth all

things, and endureth all things." In the spring of youth indeed, the

blood flows freely through the veins; we are flushed with health and

confidence; hope is young and ardent, our desires are unsated, and

whatever we see has the grace of novelty; we are the more disposed to be

good-natured because we are pleased; pleased, because universally well

received. Wherever we cast our eyes, we see some face of friendship, and

love, and gratulation: All nature smiles around us. Now the amiable

tempers of which we have been speaking naturally spring up. The soil

suits, the climate favours them. They appear to shoot forth vigorously

and blossom in gay luxuriance. To the superficial eye, all is fair and

flourishing; we anticipate the fruits of Autumn, and promise ourselves

an ample produce. But by and by the sun scorches, the frost nips, the

winds rise, the rains descend; our golden dreams are blasted, all our

fond expectations are no more. Our youthful efforts let it be supposed

have been successful; and we rise to wealth or eminence. A kind flexible

temper and popular manners have produced in us, as they are too apt, a

youth of easy social dissipation, and unproductive idleness; and we are

overtaken too late by the consciousness of having wasted that time which

cannot be recalled, and those opportunities which we cannot now recover.

We sink into disregard and obscurity when, there being a call for

qualities of more energy, indolent good nature must fall back. We are

thrust out of notice by accident or misfortunes. We are left behind by

those with whom we started on equal terms, and who, originally perhaps

having less pretensions and fewer advantages, have greatly outstripped

us in the race of honour: and their having got before us is often the

more galling, because it appears to us, and perhaps with reason, to have

been chiefly owing to a generous easy good-natured humour on our part,

which disposed us to allow them at first to pass by us without jealousy,

and led us to give place without a struggle to their more lofty

pretensions. Thus we suffered them quietly to occupy a station to which

originally we had as fair a claim as they; but, this station being once

tamely surrendered, we have forfeited it for ever. Our aukward and vain

endeavours meanwhile to recover it, while they shew that we want

self-knowledge and composure in our riper years, as much as in our

younger we had been destitute of exertion, serve only to make our

inferiority more manifest, and to bring our discontent into the fuller

notice of an ill-natured world, which however not unjustly condemns and

ridicules our misplaced ambition.

It may be sufficient to have hinted at a few of the vicissitudes and

changes of advancing life; let the reader's own mind fill up the

catalogue. Now the bosom is no longer cheerful and placid; and if the

countenance preserve its exterior character, this is no longer the

honest expression of the heart. Prosperity and luxury, gradually

extinguishing sympathy, and puffing up with pride, harden and debase the

soul. In other instances, shame secretly clouds, and remorse begins to

sting, and suspicion to corrode, and jealousy and envy to embitter.

Disappointed hopes, unsuccessful competitions, and frustrated pursuits,

sour and irritate the temper. A little personal experience of the

selfishness of mankind, damps our generous warmth and kind affections;

reproving the prompt sensibility and unsuspecting simplicity of our

earlier years. Above all, ingratitude sickens the heart, and chills and

thickens the very life's-blood of benevolence: till at length our

youthful Nero, soft and susceptible, becomes a hard and cruel tyrant;

and our youthful Timon, the gay, the generous, the beneficent, is

changed into a cold, sour, silent misanthrope.

And as in the case of amiable tempers, so in that also of what are

called useful lives, it must be confessed that their intrinsic worth,

arguing still merely on principles of reason, is apt to be greatly

over-rated. They are often the result of a disposition naturally

bustling and active, which delights in motion, and finds its labour more

than repaid, either by the very pleasure which it takes in its

employments, or by the credit which it derives from them. More than

this; if it be granted that Religion tends in general to produce

usefulness, particularly in the lower orders, who compose a vast

majority of every society; and therefore that these irreligious men of

useful lives are rather exceptions to the general rule; it must at least

be confessed that they are so far useless, or even positively

mischievous, as they either neglect to encourage or actually discourage

that principle, which is the great operative spring of usefulness in the

bulk of mankind.

Thus it might well perhaps be questioned, estimating these men by their

own standard, whether the _particular_ good in this case, is not more

than counterbalanced by the _general_ evil; still more, if their conduct

being brought to a strict account, they should be charged, as they

justly ought, with the loss of the good which, if they had manifestly

and avowedly acted from a higher principle, might have been produced,

not only directly in themselves, but indirectly and remotely in others,

from the extended efficacy of a religious example. They may be compared,

not unaptly, to persons whom some peculiarity of constitution enables to

set at defiance those established rules of living, which must be

observed by the world at large. These healthy debauchees, however they

may plead in their defence that they do themselves no injury, would

probably, but for their excesses, have both enjoyed their health

better, and preserved it longer, as well as have turned it to better

account; and it may at least be urged against them, that they disparage

the laws of temperance, and fatally betray others into the breach of

them, by affording an instance of their being transgressed with

impunity.

But were the merit of the qualities in question greater than it is, and

though it were not liable to the exceptions which have been alleged

against it, yet could they be in no degree admitted, as a compensation

for the want of the supreme love and fear of God, and of a predominant

desire to promote his glory. The observance of one commandment, however

clearly and forcibly enjoined, cannot make up for the neglect of

another, which is enjoined with equal clearness and equal force. To

allow this plea in the present instance, would be to permit men to

abrogate the first table of the law on condition of their obeying the

second. But Religion suffers not any such _composition_ of duties. It is

on the very self same miserable principle, that some have thought to

atone for a life of injustice and rapine by the strictness of their

religious observances. If the former class of men can plead the diligent

discharge of their duties to their fellow-creatures, the latter will

urge that of their's to God. We easily see the falsehood of the plea in

the latter case; and it is only self deceit and partiality which prevent

its being equally visible in the former. Yet so it is; such is the

unequal measure, if I may be allowed the expression, which we deal out

to God, and to each other. It would justly and universally be thought

false confidence in the religious thief or the religious adulterer, (to

admit for the sake of argument such a solecism in terms) to solace

himself with the firm persuasion of the Divine favour: but it will, to

many, appear hard and precise, to deny this firm persuasion of Divine

approbation to the avowedly irreligious man of social and domestic

usefulness.

Will it here be urged, that the writer is not doing justice to his

opponent's argument; which is not, that irreligious men of useful lives

may be excused for neglecting their duties towards God, in consideration

of their exemplary discharge of their duties towards their

fellow-creatures; but that in performing the latter they perform the

former _virtually_, and _substantially_, if not in name?

Can then our opponent deny, that the Holy Scriptures are in nothing more

full, frequent, strong, and unequivocal, than in their injunctions on us

supremely to love and fear God, and to worship and serve him continually

with humble and grateful hearts; habitually regarding him as our

Benefactor, and Sovereign, and Father, and abounding in sentiments of

gratitude and loyalty, and respectful affection? Can he deny that these

positive precepts are rendered, if possible, still more clear, and their

authority still more binding, by illustrations and indirect

confirmations almost innumerable? And who then is that bold intruder

into the counsels of infinite wisdom, who, in palpable contempt of these

precise commands, thus illustrated also and confirmed, will dare to

maintain that, knowing the intention with which they were primarily

given and the ends they were ultimately designed to produce, he may

innocently neglect or violate their plain obligations; on the plea that

he conforms himself, though in a different manner, to this primary

intention, and produces, though by different means, these real and

ultimate ends?

This mode of arguing is one, with which, to say nothing of its insolent

prophaneness, the heart of man, prone to deceive himself and partial in

his own cause, is not fit to be trusted. Here again, more cautious and

jealous in the case of our worldly, than of our religious interests, we

readily discern the fallacy of this reasoning and protest against it,

when it is attempted to be introduced into the commerce of life. We see

clearly that it would afford the means of refining away by turns every

moral obligation. The adulterer might allow himself with a good

conscience, to violate the bed of his unsuspecting friend, whenever he

could assure himself that his crime would escape detection; for then,

where would be the evil and misery, the prevention of which was the real

ultimate object of the prohibition of adultery? The thief, in like

manner, and even the murderer, might find abundant room for the

_innocent_ exercise of their respective occupations, arguing from the

primary intention and real objects of the commands, by which theft and

murder were forbidden. There perhaps exists not a crime, to which this

crooked morality would not furnish some convenient opening.

But this miserable sophistry deserves not that we should spend so much

time in the refutation of it. To discern its fallaciousness, requires

not acuteness of understanding, so much as a little common honesty.

"There is indeed no surer mark of a false and hollow heart, than a

disposition thus to quibble away the clear injunctions of duty and

conscience[81]:" It is the wretched resource of a disingenuous mind,

endeavouring to escape from convictions before which it cannot stand,

and to evade obligations which it dares not disavow.

The arguments which have been adduced would surely be sufficient to

disprove the extravagant pretensions of the qualities under

consideration, though those qualities were _perfect_ in their _nature_.

But they are not perfect. On the contrary, they are radically defective

and corrupt; they are a body without a soul; they want the vital

actuating principle, or rather they are animated and actuated by a false

one. Christianity, let me avail myself of the very words of a friend[82]

in maintaining her argument, is "a Religion of Motives." _That_ only is

Christian practice, which flows from Christian principles; and none else

will be admitted as such by Him, who will be obeyed as well as

worshipped "in spirit and in truth."

This also is a position of which, in our intercourse with our

fellow-creatures, we clearly discern the justice, and universally admit

the force. Though we have received a benefit at the hands of any one, we

scarcely feel grateful, if we do not believe the intention towards us to

have been friendly. Have we served any one from motives of kindness, and

is a return of service made to us? We hardly feel ourselves worthily

requited, except that return be dictated by gratitude. We should think

ourselves rather injured than obliged by it, if it were merely prompted

by a proud unwillingness to continue in our debt[83]. What husband, or

what father, not absolutely dead to every generous feeling, would be

satisfied with a wife or a child; who, though he could not charge them

with any actual breach of their respective obligations, should yet

confessedly perform them from a cold sense of duty, in place of the

quickening energies of conjugal, and filial affection? What an insult

would it be to such an one, to tell him gravely that he had no reason to

complain!

The unfairness, with which we suffer ourselves to reason in matters of

Religion, is no where more striking than in the instance before us. It

were perhaps not unnatural to suppose that, as we cannot see into each

other's bosoms, and have no sure way of judging any one's internal

principles but by his external actions, it would have grown into an

established rule, that when the latter were unobjectionable, the former

were not to be questioned; and on the other hand, that in reference to a

Being who searches the heart, our motives, rather than our external

actions, would be granted to be the just objects of inquiry. But we

exactly reverse these natural principles of reasoning. In the case of

our fellow-creatures, the motive is that which we principally inquire

after and regard. But in the case of our Supreme Judge, from whom no

secrets are hid, we suffer ourselves to believe that internal principles

may be dispensed with, if the external action be performed!

Let us not however be supposed ready to concede, in contradiction to

what has been formerly contended, that where the true motive is wanting,

the external actions themselves will not generally betray the defect.

Who is there that will not confess in the instance so lately put, of a

wife and a child who should discharge their respective obligations

merely from a cold sense of duty, that the inferiority of their

actuating principle would not be confined to its _nature_, but would be

discoverable also in its _effects_? Who is there that does not feel that

these domestic services, thus robbed of their vital spirit, would be so

debased and degraded in our estimation, as to become not barely lifeless

and uninteresting, but even distasteful and loathsome? Who will deny

that these would be performed in fuller measure, with more wakeful and

unwearied attention, as well as with more _heart_; where with the same

sense of duty the enlivening principle of affection should be also

associated?

The enemies of Religion are sometimes apt to compare the irreligious

man, of a temper naturally sweet and amiable, with the religious man of

natural roughness and severity; the irreligious man of natural activity,

with the religious man who is naturally indolent; and thence to draw

their inferences. But this mode of reasoning is surely unjust. If they

would argue the question fairly, they should make their comparisons

between persons of similar natural qualities, and not in one or two

examples, but in a mass of instances. They would then be compelled to

confess the efficacy of Religion, in heightening the benevolence and

increasing the usefulness of men: and to admit that, granting the

occasional but rare existence of genuine and persevering benevolence of

disposition and usefulness of life, where the religious principle is

wanting; yet that experience gives us reason to believe, that true

Religion, while it would have implanted these qualities in persons in

whom before they had no place, would in general have given, to these

very characters in whom they do exist, additional force in the same

direction. It would have rendered the amiable more amiable, the useful

more useful, with fewer inconsistencies, with less abatement.

Let _true Christians_ meanwhile be ever mindful, that _they_ are loudly

called upon to make this argument still more clear, these positions

still less questionable. You are every where commanded to be tender and

sympathetic, diligent and useful; and it is the character of that

"wisdom from above," in which you are to be proficients, that it "is

gentle and easy to be intreated, full of mercy and good fruits." Could

the efficacy of Christianity in softening the heart be denied by those,

who saw in the instance of the great Apostle of the Gentiles, that it

was able to transform a bigotted, furious, and cruel persecutor, into an

almost unequalled example of candour, and gentleness, and universal

tenderness and love? Could its spirit of active beneficence be denied by

those, who saw its Divine Author so diligent and unwearied in his

benevolent labours, as to justify the compendious description which was

given of him by a personal witness of his exertions, that he "went about

doing good?" Imitate these blessed examples: so shall you vindicate the

honour of your profession, and "put to silence the ignorance of foolish

men:" so shall you obey those Divine injunctions of adorning the

doctrine of Christ, and of "letting your light shine before men, that

they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in

heaven." Beat the world at its own best weapons. Let your love be more

affectionate, your mildness less open to irritation, your diligence more

laborious, your activity more wakeful and persevering. Consider

sweetness of temper and activity of mind, if they naturally belong to

you, as talents of special worth and utility, for which you will have to

give account. Carefully watch against whatever might impair them,

cherish them with constant assiduity, keep them in continual exercise,

and direct them to their noblest ends. The latter of these qualities

renders it less difficult, and therefore more incumbent on you, to be

ever abounding in the work of the Lord; and to be copious in the

production of that species of good fruit, of which mankind in general

will be most ready to allow the excellence, because they best understand

its nature. In _your_ instance, the solid substance of Christian

practice is easily susceptible of that high and beautiful polish, which

may attract the attention, and extort the admiration of a careless and

undiscerning world, so slow to notice, and so backward to acknowledge,

intrinsic worth, when concealed under a less sightly exterior. Know

then, and value as ye ought, the honourable office which is especially

devolved on you. Let it be your acceptable service to recommend the

discredited cause, and sustain the fainting interests of Religion, to

furnish to her friends matter of sound and obvious argument, and of

honest triumph; and if your best endeavours cannot conciliate, to refute

at least, and confound her enemies.

If on the other hand, you are conscious that you are naturally rough and

austere, that disappointments have soured, or prosperity has elated you,

or that habits of command have rendered you quick in expression, and

impatient of contradiction; or if, from whatever other cause, you have

contracted an unhappy peevishness of temper, or asperity of manners, or

harshness and severity of language, (remember that these defects are by

no means incompatible with an aptness to perform services of substantial

kindness); if nature has been confirmed by habit till at length your

soul seems thoroughly tinctured with these evil dispositions, yet do not

despair. Remember that the Divine Agency is promised, "to take away the

heart of stone, and give a heart of flesh," of which it is the natural

property to be tender and susceptible. Pray then earnestly and

perseveringly, that the blessed aid of Divine Grace may operate

effectually on your behalf. Beware of acquiescing in the evil tempers in

question, under the idea that they are the ordinary imperfections of the

best of men; that they shew themselves only in little instances; that

they are only occasional, hasty, and transient effusions, when you are

taken off your guard; the passing shade of your mind, and not the

settled colour. Beware of excusing or allowing them in yourself, under

the notion of warm zeal for the cause of Religion and virtue, which you

perhaps own is now and then apt to carry you into somewhat over-great

severity of judgment, or sharpness in reproof. Listen not to these, or

any other such flattering excuses, which your own heart will be but too

ready to suggest to you. Scrutinize yourself rather with rigorous

strictness; and where there is so much room for self-deceit, call in the

aid of some faithful friend, and unbosoming yourself to him without

concealment, ask his impartial and unreserved opinion of your behaviour

and condition. Our unwillingness to do this, often betrays to others,

(not seldom it first discovers to ourselves) that we entertain a secret

distrust of our own character and conduct. Instead also of extenuating

to yourself the criminality of the vicious tempers under consideration,

strive to impress your mind deeply with a sense of it. For this end,

often consider seriously, that these rough and churlish tempers are a

direct contrast to the "meekness and gentleness of Christ;" and that

Christians are strongly and repeatedly enjoined to copy after their

great Model in these particulars, and to be themselves patterns of

"mercy and kindness, and humbleness of mind, and meekness, and long

suffering." They are to "put away all bitterness, and wrath, and anger,

and clamour, and evil speaking," not only "being ready to every good

work, but being _gentle_ unto _all_ men," "shewing _all_ meekness unto

_all_ men," "forbearing, forgiving," tender hearted. Remember the

Apostle's declaration, that "if any man bridleth not his tongue, he only

seemeth to be religious, and deceiveth his own heart;" and that it is

one of the characters of that love, without which all pretensions to the

name of Christian are but vain, that "it doth not behave itself

unseemly." Consider how much these acrimonious tempers must break in

upon the peace, and destroy the comfort, of those around you. Remember

also that the honour of your Christian profession is at stake, and be

solicitous not to discredit it: justly dreading lest you should disgust

those whom you ought to conciliate; and by conveying an unfavourable

impression of your principles and character, should incur the guilt of

putting an "offence in your brother's way;" thereby "hindering the

Gospel of Christ," the advancement of which should be your daily and

assiduous care.

Thus having come to the full knowledge of your disease, and to a just

impression of its malignity, strive against it with incessant

watchfulness. Guard with the most jealous circumspection against its

breaking forth into act. Force yourself to abound in little offices of

courtesy and kindness; and you shall gradually experience in the

performance of these a pleasure hitherto unknown, and awaken in yourself

the dormant principles of sensibility. But take not up with external

amendment; guard against a false shew of sweetness of disposition; and

remember that the Christian is not to be satisfied with the world's

superficial courtliness of demeanor, but that his "Love is to be without

dissimulation." Examine carefully, whether the unchristian tempers,

which you would eradicate, are not maintained in vigour by selfishness

and pride; and strive to subdue them effectually, by extirpating the

roots from which they derive their nutriment. Accustom yourself to

endeavour to look attentively upon a careless and inconsiderate world,

which, while it is in such imminent peril, is so ignorant of its danger.

Dwell upon this affecting scene, till it has excited your pity; and this

pity, while it melts the mind to Christian love, shall insensibly

produce a temper of habitual sympathy and softness. By means like these,

perseveringly used in constant dependence on Divine aid, you may

confidentially hope to make continual progress. Among men of the world,

a youth of softness and sweetness will often, as we formerly remarked,

harden into insensibility, and sharpen into moroseness. But it is the

office of Christianity to reverse this order. It is pleasing to witness

this blessed renovation: to see, as life advances, asperities gradually

smoothing down, and roughnesses mellowing away: while the subject of

this happy change experiences within, increasing measures of the comfort

which he diffuses around him; and feeling the genial influences of that

heavenly flame which can thus give life, and warmth, and action, to what

had been hitherto rigid and insensible, looks up with gratitude to him

who has shed abroad this principle of love in his heart;

Miraturque novas frondes et non sua poma.

Let it not be thought that in the foregoing discussion, the amiable and

useful qualities, where they are not prompted and governed by a

principle of religion, have been spoken of in too disparaging terms. Nor

would I be understood as unwilling to concede to those who are living in

the exercise of them, their proper tribute of commendation: Inest sua

gratia. Of such persons it must be said, in the language of scripture,

"they have their reward." They have it in the inward complacency, which

a sweet temper seldom fails to inspire; in the comforts of the domestic

or social circle; in the pleasure which from the constitution of our

nature accompanies pursuit and action. They are always beloved in

private, and generally respected in public life. But when devoid of

Religion, if the word of God be not a fable, "they cannot enter into the

kingdom of Heaven." True practical Christianity (never let it be

forgotten) consists in devoting the heart and life to God; in being

supremely and habitually governed by a desire to know, and a disposition

to fulfil his will, and in endeavouring under the influence of _these

motives_ to "live to his glory." Where these essential requisites are

wanting, however amiable the character may be, however creditable and

respectable among men; yet as it possesses not the grand distinguishing

essence, it must not be complimented with the name, of Christianity.

This however, when the external decorums of Religion are not violated,

must commonly be a matter between God and a man's own conscience; and we

ought never to forget how strongly we are enjoined to be candid and

liberal in judging of the motives of others, while we are strict in

scrutinizing and severe in questioning our own. And this strict scrutiny

is no where more necessary, because there is no where more room for the

operation of self-deceit. We are all extremely prone to lend ourselves

to the good opinion which, however falsely, is entertained of us by

others; and though we at first confusedly suspect, or even indubitably

know, that their esteem is unfounded, and their praises undeserved, and

that they would have thought and spoken of us very differently, if they

had discerned our secret motives, or had been accurately acquainted with

all the circumstances of our conduct; we gradually suffer ourselves to

adopt their judgment of us, and at length feel that we are in some sort

injured or denied our due, when these false commendations are

contradicted or withheld. Without the most constant watchfulness, and

the most close and impartial self-examination, irreligious people of

amiable tempers, and still more those of useful lives, from the general

popularity of their character, will be particularly liable to become the

dupes of this propensity. Nor is it they only who have here need to be

on their guard: men of real religion will also do well to watch against

this delusion. There is however another danger to which these are still

more exposed, and against which it is the rather necessary to warn them,

because of our having insisted so strongly on their being bound to be

diligent in the discharge of the active duties of life. In their

endeavours to fulfil this obligation, let them specially beware, lest

setting out on right principles, they insensibly lose them in the course

of their progress; lest engaging originally in the business and bustle

of the world, from a sincere and earnest desire to promote the glory of

God, their minds should become so heated and absorbed in the pursuit of

their object, as that the true motive of action should either altogether

cease to be an habitual principle, or should at least lose much of its

life and vigour; lest their thoughts and affections being engrossed by

temporal concerns, their sense of the reality of "unseen things" should

fade away, and they should lose their relish for the employments and

offices of Religion.

The Christian's path is beset with dangers--On the one hand, he justly

dreads an inactive and unprofitable life; on the other, he no less

justly trembles for the loss of that spiritual-mindedness, which is the

very essence and power of his profession. This is not quite the place

for the full discussion of the difficult topic here in question: and if

it were, the writer of these sheets is too conscious of his own

incompetencies, not to be desirous of asking rather than of giving

advice respecting it. Yet, as it is a matter which has often engaged his

most serious consideration, and has been the frequent subject of his

anxious inquiry into the writings and opinions of far better

instructors, he will venture to deliver a few words on it, offering

them with unaffected diffidence.

Does then the Christian discover in himself, judging not from accidental

and occasional feelings, on which little stress is either way to be

laid, but from the permanent and habitual temper of his mind, a settled,

and still more a growing, coldness and indisposition towards the

considerations and offices of Religion? And has he reason to apprehend

that this coldness and indisposition are owing to his being engaged too

much or too earnestly in worldly business, or to his being too keen in

the pursuit of worldly objects? Let him carefully examine the state of

his own heart, and seriously and impartially survey the circumstances of

his situation in life; humbly praying to the Father of light and mercy,

that he may be enabled to see his way clearly in this difficult

emergency. If he finds himself pursuing wealth, or dignity, or

reputation, with earnestness and solicitude; if these things engage many

of his thoughts; if his mind naturally and inadvertently runs out into

contemplations of them; if success in these respects greatly gladdens,

and disappointments dispirit and distress his mind; he has but too plain

grounds for self-condemnation. "No man can serve two masters." The world

is evidently in possession of his heart, and it is no wonder that he

finds himself dull, or rather dead, to the impression and enjoyment of

spiritual things.

But though the marks of predominant estimation and regard for earthly

things be much less clear and determinate; yet if the object which he is

pursuing be one which, by its attainment, would bring him a considerable

accession of riches, station, or honour, let him soberly and fairly

question and examine whether the pursuit be warrantable? here also,

asking the advice of some judicious friend; his backwardness to do

which, in instances like these, should justly lead him, as was before

remarked, to distrust the reasonableness of the schemes which he is

prosecuting. In such a case as this, we have good cause to distrust

ourselves. Though the inward hope, that we are chiefly prompted by a

desire to promote the glory of our Maker, and the happiness of our

fellow-creatures, by increasing our means of usefulness, may suggest

itself to allay, yet let it not altogether remove, our suspicions. It is

not improbable, that beneath this plausible mask we conceal, more

successfully perhaps from ourselves than from others, an inordinate

attachment to the pomps and transitory distinctions of this life; and as

this attachment gains the ascendency, it will ever be found, that our

perception and feeling of the supreme excellence of heavenly things will

proportionably subside.

But when the consequences which would follow from the success of our

worldly pursuits do not render them so questionable, as in the case we

have been just considering; yet, having such good reason to believe that

there is somewhere a flaw, could we but discover it, let us carefully

scrutinize the whole of our conduct, taking that word in its largest

sense; in order to discover whether we may not be living either in the

breach or in the omission of some known duty, and whether it may not

therefore have pleased God to withdraw from us the influence of his Holy

Spirit; particularly inquiring, whether the duties of self-examination,

of secret and public prayer, the reading of the Holy Scriptures, and

the other prescribed means of Grace, have not been either wholly

intermitted at their proper seasons, or at least been performed with

precipitation or distraction? And if we find reason to believe, that the

allotment of time, which it would be most for our spiritual improvement

to assign to our religious offices, is often broken in upon and

curtailed; let us be extremely backward to admit excuses for such

interruptions and abridgments. It is more than probable, for many

obvious reasons, that even our worldly affairs themselves will not on

the long run, go on the better for encroaching upon those hours, which

ought to be dedicated to the more immediate service of God, and to the

cultivation of the inward principles of Religion. Our hearts at least

and our conduct will soon exhibit proofs of the sad effects of this

fatal negligence. They who in a crazy vessel navigate a sea wherein are

shoals and currents innumerable, if they would keep their course or

reach their port in safety, must carefully repair the smallest injuries,

and often throw out their line and take their observations. In the

voyage of life also the Christian who would not make shipwreck of his

faith, while he is habitually watchful and provident, must often make it

his express business to look into his state, and ascertain his progress.

But to resume my subject; let us when engaged in this important

scrutiny, impartially examine ourselves whether the worldly objects

which engross us, are all of them such as properly belong to our

profession, or station, or circumstances in life; which therefore we

could not neglect with a good conscience? If they be, let us consider

whether they do not consume a larger share of our time than they really

require; and whether, by not trifling over our work, by deducting

somewhat which might be spared from our hours of relaxation, or by some

other little management, we might not fully satisfy their just claims,

and yet have an increased overplus of leisure, to be devoted to the

offices of Religion.

But if we deliberately and honestly conclude that we ought not to give

these worldly objects less of our _time_, let us endeavour at least to

give them less of our _hearts_: striving that the settled frame of our

_desires_ and affections may be more spiritual; and that in the motley

intercourses of life we may constantly retain a more lively sense of the

Divine presence, and a stronger impression of the reality of unseen

things; thus corresponding with the Scripture description of true

Christians, "walking by faith and not by sight, and having our

conversation in Heaven."

Above all, let us guard against the temptation, to which we shall

certainly be exposed, of lowering down our views to our state, instead

of endeavouring to rise to the level of our views. Let us rather

determine to know the worst of our case, and strive to be suitably

affected with it; not forward to speak peace to ourselves, but patiently

carrying about with us a deep conviction of our backwardness and

inaptitude to religious duties, and a just sense of our great weakness

and numerous infirmities. This cannot be an unbecoming temper, in those

who are commanded to "work out their salvation with fear and trembling."

It prompts to constant and earnest prayer. It produces that sobriety,

and lowliness and tenderness of mind, that meekness of demeanor and

circumspection in conduct, which are such eminent characteristics of

the true Christian.

Nor is it a state devoid of consolation--"O tarry thou the Lord's

leisure, be strong and he shall comfort thy heart."--"They that wait on

the Lord, shall renew their strength."--"Blessed are they that mourn,

for they shall be comforted." These Divine assurances sooth and

encourage the Christian's disturbed and dejected mind, and insensibly

diffuse a holy composure. The tint may be solemn, nay even melancholy,

but it is mild and grateful. The tumult of his soul has subsided, and he

is possessed by complacency, and hope, and love. If a sense of

undeserved kindness fill his eyes with tears, they are tears of

reconciliation and joy: while a generous ardour springing up within him

sends him forth to his worldly labours "fervent in spirit;" resolving

through the Divine aid to be henceforth more diligent and exemplary in

living to the Glory of God, and longing meanwhile for that blessed time,

when, "being freed from the bondage of corruption," he shall be enabled

to render to his Heavenly Benefactor more pure and acceptable service.

After having discussed so much at large the whole question concerning

amiable tempers in general, it may be scarcely necessary to dwell upon

that particular class of them which belongs to the head of generous

emotions, or of exquisite sensibility. To these almost all which has

been said above is strictly applicable; to which it may be added, that

the persons in whom the latter qualities most abound, are often far from

conducing to the peace and comfort of their nearest connections. These

qualities indeed may be rendered highly useful instruments, when

enlisted into the service of Religion. But we ought to except against

them the more strongly, when not under her controul; because there is

still greater danger than in the former case, that persons in whom they

abound, may be flattered into a false opinion of themselves by the

excessive commendations often paid to them by others, and by the

beguiling complacencies of their own minds, which are apt to be puffed

up with a proud though secret consciousness of their own superior

acuteness and sensibility. But it is the less requisite to enlarge on

this topic, because it has been well discussed by many, who have

unfolded the real nature of those fascinating qualities; who have well

remarked, that though shewy and apt to catch the eye, they are of a

flimsy and perishable fabric, not of that less gaudy but more

substantial and durable texture, which, imparting permanent warmth and

comfort, will long preserve its more sober honours, and stand the wear

and tear of life, and the vicissitudes of seasons. It has been shewn,

that these qualities often fail us when most we want their aid; that

their possessors can solace themselves with their imaginary exertions in

behalf of ideal misery, and yet shrink from the labours of active

benevolence, or retire with disgust from the homely forms of real

poverty and wretchedness. In fine, the superiority of true Christian

charity and of plain practical beneficence has been ably vindicated; and

the school of Rousseau has been forced to yield to the school of Christ,

when the question has been concerning the best means of promoting the

comfort of family life, or the temporal well-being of society[84].

SECTION V.

_Some other grand defects in the practical system of the Bulk of nominal

Christians._

In the imperfect sketch which has been drawn of the Religion of the bulk

of nominal Christians, their fundamental error respecting the essential

nature of Christianity has been discussed, and traced into some of its

many mischievous consequences. Several of their particular

misconceptions and allowed defects have also been pointed out and

illustrated. It may not be improper to close the survey by noticing

some others, for the existence of which we may now appeal to almost

every part of the preceding delineation.

In the first place, then, there appears throughout, both in the

principles and allowed conduct of the bulk of nominal Christians, a most

inadequate idea of the _guilt and evil of sin_. We every where find

reason to remark, that, as was formerly observed, Religion is suffered

to dwindle away into a mere matter of _police_. Hence the guilt of

actions is estimated, not by the proportion in which, according to

Scripture, they are offensive to God, but by that in which they are

injurious to society. Murder, theft, fraud in all its shapes, and some

species of lying, are manifestly, and in an eminent degree, injurious to

social happiness. How different accordingly, in the moral scale, is the

place they hold, from that which is assigned to idolatry, to general

irreligion, to swearing, drinking, fornication, lasciviousness,

sensuality, excessive dissipation; and in particular circumstances, to

pride, wrath, malice, and revenge!

Indeed, several of the above-mentioned vices are held to be grossly

criminal in the lower ranks, because manifestly ruinous to their

temporal interests: but in the higher, they are represented as "losing

half their evil by losing all their grossness," as flowing naturally

from great prosperity, from the excess of gaiety and good humour; and

they are accordingly "regarded with but a small degree of

disapprobation, and censured very slightly or not at all[85]."--"Non

meus hic sermo est." These are the remarks of authors, who have

surveyed the stage of human life with more than ordinary observation;

one of whom in particular cannot be suspected of having been misled by

religious prejudices, to form a judgment of the superior orders too

unfavourable and severe.

Will these positions however be denied? Will it be maintained that there

is not the difference already stated, in the moral estimation of these

different classes of vices? Will it be said, that the one class is

indeed more generally restrained, and more severely punished by human

laws, because more properly cognizable by human judicatures, and more

directly at war with the well-being of society; but that when brought

before the tribunal of internal opinion they are condemned with equal

rigour?

Facts may be denied, and charges laughed out of countenance: but where

the general sentiment and feeling of mankind are in question, our common

language is often the clearest and most impartial witness; and the

conclusions thus furnished, are not to be parried by wit, or eluded by

sophistry. In the present case, our ordinary modes of speech furnish

sufficient matter for the determination of the argument; and abundantly

prove our disposition to consider as matters of small account, such sins

as are not held to be injurious to the community. We invent for them

diminutive and qualifying terms, which, if not, as in the common uses of

language[86], to be admitted as signs of approbation and good will, must

at least be confessed to be proofs of our tendency to regard them with

palliation and indulgence. Free-thinking, gallantry, jollity[87], and a

thousand similar phrases might be adduced as instances. But it is worthy

of remark, that no such soft and qualifying terms are in use, for

expressing the smaller degrees of theft, or fraud, or forgery, or any

other of those offences, which are committed by men against their

fellow-creatures, and in the suppression of which we are interested by

our regard to our temporal concerns.

The charge which we are urging is indeed undeniable. In the case of any

question of honour, or of moral honesty, we are sagacious in discerning

and inexorable in judging the offence. No allowance is made for the

suddenness of surprise, or the strength of temptations. One single

failure is presumed to imply the absence of the moral or honourable

principle. The memory is retentive on these occasions, and the man's

character is blasted for life. Here, even the mere suspicion of having

once offended can scarcely be got over: "There is an aukward story about

that man, which must be explained before he and I can become

acquainted." But in the case of sins against God, there is no such

watchful jealousy, none of this rigorous logic. A man may go on in the

frequent commission of known sins, yet no such inference is drawn

respecting the absence of the religious principle. On the contrary, we

say of him, that "though his _conduct_ be a little incorrect, his

_principles_ are untouched;"--that he has _a good heart_: and such a man

may go quietly through life, with the titles of a _mighty worthy

creature_, and a _very good Christian_.

But in the Word of God actions are estimated by a far less accommodating

standard. There we read of no little sins. Much of our Saviour's sermon

on the mount, which many of the class we are condemning affect highly to

admire, is expressly pointed against so dangerous a misconception.

_There_, no such distinction is made between the rich and the poor. No

notices are to be traced of one scale of morals for the higher, and of

another for the lower classes of society. Nay, the former are expressly

guarded against any such vain imagination; and are distinctly warned,

that their condition in life is the more dangerous, because of the more

abundant temptations to which it exposes them. Idolatry, fornication,

lasciviousness, drunkenness, revellings, inordinate affection, are, by

the apostle likewise classed with theft and murder, and with what we

hold in even still greater abomination; and concerning them all it is

pronounced alike, that "they which do such things shall not inherit the

kingdom of God[88]."

In truth, the instance which we have lately specified, of the loose

system of these nominal Christians, betrays a fatal absence of the

principle which is the very foundation of all Religion. Their slight

notions of the guilt and evil of sin discover an utter want of all

suitable reverence for the Divine Majesty. This principle is justly

termed in Scripture, "the beginning of wisdom," and there is perhaps no

one quality which it is so much the studious endeavour of the sacred

writers to impress upon the human heart[89].

Sin is considered in Scripture as rebellion against the sovereignty of

God, and every different act of it equally violates his law, and, if

persevered in, disclaims his supremacy. To the inconsiderate and the gay

this doctrine may seem harsh, while, vainly fluttering in the sunshine

of worldly prosperity, they lull themselves into a fond security. "But

the day of the Lord will come as a thief in the night; in which the

Heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt

with fervent heat; the earth also and the works that are therein shall

be burnt up"--"Seeing then, that all these things shall be dissolved,

what manner of persons ought we to be in all holy conversation and

Godliness?"[90] We are but an atom in the universe.--Worlds upon worlds

surround us, all probably full of intelligent creatures, to whom, now or

hereafter, we may be a spectacle, and afford an example of the Divine

procedure. Who then shall take upon him to pronounce what might be the

issue, if sin were suffered to pass unpunished in one corner of this

universal empire? Who shall say what confusion might be the consequence,

what disorder it might spread through the creation of God? Be this

however as it may, the language of Scripture is clear and

decisive;--"The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the people

that forget God."

It should be carefully observed too, that these awful denunciations of

the future punishment of sin derive additional weight from this

consideration, that they are represented, not merely as a judicial

sentence which, without violence to the settled order of things, might

be remitted through the mere mercy of our Almighty Governor, but as

arising out of the established course of nature; as happening in the way

of natural consequence, just as a cause is necessarily connected with

its effect; as resulting from certain connections and relations which

rendered them suitable and becoming. It is stated, that the kingdom of

God and the kingdom of Satan are both set up in the world, and that to

the one or the other of these we must belong. "The righteous have

_passed_ from death unto life"--"they are delivered from the power of

darkness, and are translated into the kingdom of God's dear Son[91]."

They are become "the children," and "the subjects of God." While on

earth, they love his day, his service, his people; they "speak good of

his name;" they abound in his works. Even here they are in some degree

possessed of his image, by and by it shall be perfected; they shall

awake up after his "likeness," and being "heirs of eternal life," they

shall receive "an inheritance incorruptible and undefiled, and that

fadeth not away."

Of sinners, on the other hand, it is declared, that "they are of their

father the devil;" while on earth, they are styled "his children," "his

servants;" they are said "to do his works," "to hold of his side," to

be, "subjects of his kingdom:" at length "they shall partake his

portion," when the merciful Saviour shall be changed into an avenging

Judge, and shall pronounce that dreadful sentence, "depart from me, ye

cursed, into everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels."

Is it possible that these declarations should not strike terror, or at

least excite serious and fearful apprehension in the lightest and most

inconsiderate mind? But the imaginations of men are fatally prone to

suggest to them fallacious hopes in the very face of these positive

declarations. "We cannot persuade ourselves that God will in fact prove

so severe." It was the very delusion to which our first parents

listened; "Ye shall not surely die."

Let me ask these rash men, who are thus disposed to trifle with their

immortal interests, had they lived in the antediluvian world, would they

have conceived it possible that God would then execute his predicted

threatening? Yet the event took place at the appointed time; the flood

came and swept them all away: and this awful instance of the anger of

God against sin is related in the inspired writings for our instruction.

Still more to rouse us to attention, the record is impressed in

indelible characters on the solid substance of the very globe we

inhabit; which thus, in every country upon earth, furnishes practical

attestations to the truth of the sacred writings, and to the actual

accomplishment of their awful predictions. For myself I must declare,

that I never can read without awe the passage, in which our Saviour is

speaking of the state of the world at the time of this memorable event.

The wickedness of men is represented to have been great and prevalent;

yet not as we are ready to conceive, such as to interrupt the course,

and shake the very frame of society. The general face of things was,

perhaps, not very different from that which is exhibited in many of the

European nations. It was a selfish, a luxurious, an irreligious, and an

inconsiderate world. They were called, but they would not hearken; they

were warned, but they would not believe--"They did eat, they drank, they

married wives, they were given in marriage:" such is the account of one

of the Evangelists; in that of another it is stated nearly in the same

words; "They were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage,

and knew not until the flood came and swept them all away."

Again, we see throughout, in the system which we have been describing a

most inadequate conception of the difficulty of becoming true

Christians; and an utter forgetfulness of its being the great business

of life to secure our admission into Heaven, and to prepare our hearts

for its service and enjoyments. The general notion appears to be, that,

if born in a country of which Christianity is the established religion,

we are born Christians. We do not therefore look out for positive

evidence of our really being of that number; but putting the _onus

probandi_, (if it may be so expressed) on the wrong side, we conceive

ourselves such _of course_, except our title be disproved by positive

evidence to the contrary. And we are so slow in giving ear to what

conscience urges to us on this side; so dexterous in justifying what is

clearly wrong, in palliating what we cannot justify, in magnifying the

merit of what is fairly commendable, in flattering ourselves that our

habits of vice are only occasional acts, and in multiplying our single

acts into habits of virtue, that we must be bad indeed, to be compelled

to give a verdict against ourselves. Besides, having no suspicion of our

state, we do not set ourselves in earnest to the work of

self-examination; but only receive in a confused and hasty way some

occasional notices of our danger, when sickness, or the loss of a

friend, or the recent commission of some act of vice of greater size

than ordinary, has awakened in our consciences a more than usual degree

of sensibility.

Thus, by the generality, it is altogether forgotten, that the Christian

has a great work to execute; that of forming himself after the pattern

of his Lord and Master, through the operation of the Holy Spirit of God,

which is promised to our fervent prayers and diligent endeavours.

Unconscious of the obstacles which impede, and of the enemies which

resist their advancement; they are naturally forgetful also of the ample

provision which is in store, for enabling them to surmount the one, and

to conquer the other. The scriptural representations of the state of the

Christian on earth, by the images of "a race," and "a warfare;" of its

being necessary to rid himself of every encumbrance which might retard

him in the one, and to furnish himself with the whole armour of God for

being victorious in the other, are, so far as these nominal Christians

are concerned, figures of no propriety or meaning. As little (as was

formerly shewn) have they, in correspondence with the Scripture

descriptions of the feelings and language of real Christians, any idea

of acquiring a relish while on earth, for the worship and service of

Heaven. If the truth must be told, their notion is rather a confused

idea of future gratification in Heaven, in return for having put a force

upon their inclinations, and endured so much religion while on earth.

But all this is only _nominal_ Christianity, which exhibits a more

inadequate image of her real excellencies, than the cold copyings, by

some insipid pencil, convey of the force and grace of Nature, or of

Raphael. In the language of Scripture, Christianity is not a

geographical, but a moral term. It is not the being a native of a

Christian country: it is _a condition, a state_; the possession of a

_peculiar nature_, with the _qualities_ and _properties_ which belong to

it.

Farther than this, it is a state into which we are not _born_, but into

which we must be _translated_; a nature which we do not _inherit_, but

into which we are to be _created anew_. To the undeserved grace of God,

which is promised on our use of the appointed means, we must be indebted

for the attainment of this nature; and, to acquire and make sure of it,

is that great "work of our salvation," which we are commanded to "work

out with fear and trembling." We are every where reminded, that this is

a matter of labour and difficulty, requiring continual watchfulness, and

unceasing effort, and unwearied patience. Even to the very last, towards

the close of a long life consumed in active service, or in cheerful

suffering, we find St. Paul himself declaring, that he conceived bodily

self-denial and mental discipline to be indispensably necessary to his

very safety. Christians, who are really worthy of the name, are

represented as being "made meet for the inheritance of the Saints in

light;" as "waiting for the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ;" as

"looking for and hastening unto the coming of the day of God." It is

stated as being enough to make them happy, that "Christ should receive

them to himself;" and the songs of the blessed spirits in Heaven are

described to be the same, as those in which the servants of God on earth

pour forth their gratitude and adoration.

Conscious therefore of the indispensable necessity, and of the arduous

nature of the service in which he is engaged, the true Christian sets

himself to the work with vigour, and prosecutes it with diligence. His

motto is that of the painter; "_nullus dies sine linea_." Fled as it

were from a country in which the plague is raging, he thinks it not

enough just to pass the boundary line, but would put out of doubt his

escape beyond the limbs of infection. Prepared to meet with

difficulties, he is not discouraged when they occur; warned of his

numerous adversaries, he is not alarmed on their approach, or unprovided

for encountering them. He knows that the beginnings of every new course

may be expected to be rough and painful; but he is assured that the

paths on which he is entering will ere long seem smoother, and become

indeed "paths of pleasantness and peace."

Now of the state of such an one the expressions of Pilgrim and Stranger

are a lively description; and all the other figures and images, by which

Christians are represented in Scripture, have in his case a determinate

meaning and a just application. There is indeed none, by which the

Christian's state on earth is in the word of God more frequently imaged,

or more happily illustrated, than by that of a journey: and it may not

be amiss to pause for a while in order to survey it under that

resemblance. The Christian is travelling on business through a strange

country, in which he is commanded to execute his work with diligence,

and pursue his course homeward with alacrity. The fruits which he sees

by the way-side he gathers with caution; he drinks of the streams with

moderation; he is thankful when the sun shines, and his way is

pleasant; but if it be rough and rainy, he cares not much, he is but a

traveller. He is prepared for vicissitudes; he knows that he must expect

to meet with them in the stormy and uncertain climate of this world. But

he is travelling to "a better country," a country of unclouded light and

undisturbed serenity. He finds also by experience, that when he has had

the least of external comforts, he has always been least disposed to

loiter; and if for the time it be a little disagreeable, he can solace

himself with the idea of his being thereby forwarded in his course. In a

less unfavourable season, he looks round him with an eye of observation;

he admires what is beautiful; he examines what is curious; he receives

with complacency the refreshments which are set before him, and enjoys

them with thankfulness. Nor does he churlishly refuse to associate with

the inhabitants of the country through which he is passing; nor, so far

as he may, to speak their language, and adopt their fashions. But he

neither suffers pleasure, nor curiosity, nor society, to take up too

much of his time, and is still intent on transacting the business which

he has to execute, and on prosecuting the journey which he is ordered to

pursue. He knows also that, to the very end of life, his journey will be

through a country in which he has many enemies; that his way is beset

with snares; that temptations throng around him, to seduce him from his

course or check his advancement in it; that the very air disposes to

drowsiness, and that therefore to the very last it will be requisite for

him to be circumspect and collected. Often therefore he examines

whereabouts he is, how he has got forward, and whether or not he is

travelling in the right direction. Sometimes he seems to himself to

make considerable progress, sometimes he advances but slowly, too often

he finds reason to fear that he has fallen backward in his course. Now

he is cheered with hope, and gladdened by success; now he is disquieted

with doubts, and damped by disappointments. Thus while in nominal

Christians, Religion is a dull uniform thing, and they have no

conception of the desires and disappointments, the hopes and fears, the

joys and sorrows, which it is calculated to bring into exercise; in the

true Christian all is life and motion, and his great work calls forth

alternately the various passions of the soul. Let it not therefore be

imagined that his is a state of unenlivened toil and hardship. His very

labours are "the labours of love;" if "he has need of patience," it is

"the patience of hope;" and he is cheered in his work by the constant

assurance of present support, and of final victory. Let it not be

forgotten, that this is the very idea given us of happiness by one of

the ablest examiners of the human mind; "a constant employment for a

desired end, with the consciousness of continual progress." So true is

the Scripture declaration, that "Godliness has the promise of the life

that now is, as well as of that which is to come."

Our review of the character of the bulk of nominal Christians has

exhibited abundant proofs of their allowed defectiveness in that great

constituent of the true Christian character, _the love of God_. Many

instances, in proof of this assertion, have been incidentally pointed

out, and the charge is in itself so obvious, that it were superfluous to

spend much time in endeavouring to establish it. Put the question fairly

to the test. Concerning the proper marks and evidences of affection,

there can be little dispute. Let the most candid investigator examine

the character, and conduct, and language of the persons of whom we have

been speaking; and he will be compelled to acknowledge, that so far as

love towards the Supreme Being is in question, these marks and evidences

are no where to be met with. It is in itself a decisive evidence of a

contrary feeling in those nominal Christians, that they find no pleasure

in the service and worship of God. Their devotional acts resemble less

the free-will offerings of a grateful heart, than that constrained and

reluctant homage, which is exacted by some hard master from his

oppressed dependents, and paid with cold sullenness, and slavish

apprehension. It was the very charge brought by God against his

ungrateful people of old, that, while they called him Sovereign and

Father, they withheld from him the regards which severally belong to

those respected and endearing appellations. Thus we likewise think it

enough to offer to the most excellent and amiable of Beings, to our

supreme and unwearied Benefactor, a dull, artificial, heartless

gratitude, of which we should be ashamed in the case of a

fellow-creature, who had ever so small a claim on our regard and

thankfulness!

It may be of infinite use to establish in our minds a strong and

habitual sense of that first and great commandment--"Thou shalt love the

Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy mind, and with all thy

soul, and with all thy strength." This passion, operative and vigorous

in its very nature, like a master spring, would put and maintain in

action all the complicated movements of the human soul. Soon also would

it terminate many practical questions concerning the allowableness of

certain compliances; questions which, with other similar difficulties,

are often only the cold offspring of a spirit of reluctant submission,

and cannot stand the encounter of this trying principle. If, for

example, it were disputed, whether or not the law of God were _so_

strict as had been stated, in condemning the slightest infraction of its

precepts; yet, when, from the precise demands of justice, the appeal

should be made to the more generous principle of love, there would be at

once an end of the discussion. Fear will deter from acknowledged crimes,

and self-interest will bribe to laborious services: but it is the

peculiar glory, and the very characteristic, of this more generous

passion, to shew itself in ten thousand little and undefinable acts of

sedulous attention, which love alone can pay, and of which, when paid,

love alone can estimate the value. Love outruns the deductions of

reasoning; it scorns the refuge of casuistry; it requires not the slow

process of laborious and undeniable proof that an action would be

injurious and offensive, or another beneficial or gratifying, to the

object of affection. The least hint, the slightest surmise, is

sufficient to make it start from the former, and fly with eagerness to

the latter.

I am well aware that I am now about to tread on very tender ground; but

it would be an improper deference to the opinions and manners of the age

altogether to avoid it. There has been much argument concerning the

lawfulness of theatrical amusements[92]. Let it be sufficient to

remark, that the controversy would be short indeed, if the question were

to be tried by this criterion of love to the Supreme Being. If there

were any thing of that sensibility for the honour of God, and of that

zeal in his service, which we shew in behalf of our earthly friends, or

of our political connections, should we seek our pleasure in that place

which the debauchee, inflamed with wine, or bent on the gratification of

other licentious appetites, finds most congenial to his state and temper

of mind? In that place, from the neighbourhood of which, (how justly

termed a school of morals might hence alone be inferred) decorum, and

modesty, and regularity retire, while riot and lewdness are invited to

the spot, and invariably select it for their chosen residence! where the

sacred name of God is often prophaned! where sentiments are often heard

with delight, and motions and gestures often applauded, which would not

be tolerated in private company, but which may far exceed the utmost

licence allowed in the social circle, without at all transgressing the

large bounds of theatrical decorum! where, when moral principles are

inculcated, they are not such as a Christian ought to cherish in his

bosom, but such as it must be his daily endeavour to extirpate; not

those which Scripture warrants, but those which it condemns as false and

spurious, being founded in pride and ambition, and the over-valuation of

human favour! where surely, if a Christian should trust himself at all,

it would be requisite for him to prepare himself with a double portion

of watchfulness and seriousness of mind, instead of selecting it as the

place in which he may throw off his guard, and unbend without danger!

The justness of this last remark, and the general tendency of

theatrical amusements, is attested by the same well instructed master in

the science of human life, to whom we had before occasion to refer. By

him they are recommended as the most efficacious expedient for relaxing,

among any people, that "_preciseness and austerity_ of morals," to use

his own phrase, which, under the name of holiness, it is the business of

Scripture to inculcate and enforce. Nor is this position merely

theoretical. The experiment was tried, and tried successfully, in a city

upon the continent[93], in which it was wished to corrupt the simple

morality of purer times.

Let us try the question by a parallel instance.

What judgment should we form of the warmth of that man's attachment to

his Sovereign, who, at seasons of recreation, should seek his pleasures

in scenes as ill accordant with the principle of loyalty, as those of

which we have been speaking are with the genius of religion? If for this

purpose he were to select the place, and frequent the amusements, to

which Democrats and Jacobins[94] should love to resort for

entertainment, and in which they should find themselves so much at home,

as invariably to select the spot for their abiding habitation; where

dialogue, and song, and the intelligible language of gesticulation,

should be used to convey ideas and sentiments, not perhaps palpably

treasonable, or directly falling within the strict precision of any

legal limits, but yet palpably contrary to the spirit of monarchical

government; which, further, the highest authorities had recommended as

sovereign specifics for cooling the warmth, and enlarging the narrowness

of an excessive loyalty! What opinion should we form of the delicacy of

that friendship, or of the fidelity of that love, which, in relation to

their respective objects, should exhibit the same contradictions?

In truth, the _hard measure_, if the phrase may be pardoned, which, as

has been before remarked, we give to God; and the very different way in

which we allow ourselves to act, and speak, and feel, where he is

concerned, from that which we require, or even practise in the case of

our fellow-creatures, is in itself the most decisive proof that the

principle of the love of God, if not altogether extinct in us, is at

least in the lowest possible degree of languor.

From examining the degree in which the bulk of nominal Christians are

defective in the love of God, if we proceed to inquire concerning the

strength of their love towards their fellow-creatures, the writer is

well aware of its being generally held, that here at least they may

rather challenge praise than submit to censure. And the many beneficent

institutions in which this country abounds, probably above every other,

whether in ancient or modern times, may be perhaps appealed to in proof

of the opinion. Much of what might have been otherwise urged in the

discussion of this topic, has been anticipated in the inquiry into the

grounds of the extravagant estimation, assigned to amiable tempers and

useful lives, when unconnected with religious principle. What was then

stated may serve in many cases to lower, in the present instance, the

loftiness of the pretensions of these nominal Christians; and we shall

hereafter have occasion to mention another consideration, of which the

effect must be, still further to reduce their claims. Meanwhile, let it

suffice to remark, that we must not rest satisfied with merely

superficial appearances, if we would form a fair estimate of the degree

of purity and vigour, in which the principle of good will towards men

warms the bosoms of the generality of professed Christians in the higher

and more opulent classes in this country. In a highly polished state of

society, for instance, we do not expect to find moroseness; and in an

age of great profusion, though we may reflect with pleasure on those

numerous charitable institutions, which are justly the honour of Great

Britain; we are not too hastily to infer a strong principle of internal

benevolence, from liberal contributions to the relief of indigence and

misery. When these contributions indeed are equally abundant in frugal

times, or from individuals personally oeconomical, the source from

which they originate becomes less questionable. But a vigorous principle

of philanthropy must not be at once conceded, on the ground of liberal

benefactions to the poor, in the case of one who by his liberality in

this respect is curtailed in no necessary, is abridged of no luxury, is

put to no trouble either of thought or of action; who, not to impute a

desire of being praised for his benevolence, is injured in no man's

estimation; in whom also familiarity with large sums has produced that

freedom in the expenditure of money, which (thereby affording a fresh

illustration of the justice of the old proverb, "Familiarity breeds

contempt,") it never fails to operate, except in minds under the

influence of a strong principle of avarice.

Our conclusion, perhaps, would be less favourable, but not less fair, if

we were to try the characters in question by those surer tests, which

are stated by the Apostle to be less ambiguous marks of a real spirit of

philanthropy. The strength of every passion is to be estimated by its

victory over passions of an opposite nature. What judgment then shall we

form of the force of the benevolence of the age, when measured by this

standard? How does it stand the shock, when it comes into encounter with

our pride, our vanity, our self-love, our self-interest, our love of

ease or of pleasure, with our ambition, with our desire of worldly

estimation? Does it make us self-denying, that we may be liberal in

relieving others? Does it make us persevere in doing good in spite of

ingratitude; and only pity the ignorance, or prejudice, or malice, which

misrepresents our conduct, or misconstrues our motives? Does it make us

forbear from what we conceive may probably prove the occasion of harm

to a fellow-creature; though the harm should not seem naturally or even

fairly to flow from our conduct, but to be the result only of his own

obstinacy or weakness? Are we slow to believe any thing to our

neighbour's disadvantage? and when we cannot but credit it, are we

disposed rather to cover, and as far as we justly can, to palliate, than

to divulge or aggravate it? Suppose an opportunity to occur of

performing a kindness, to one who from pride or vanity should be loth to

receive, or to be known to receive, a favour from us; should we honestly

endeavour, so far as we could with truth, to lessen in his own mind and

in that of others the merit of our good offices, and by so doing dispose

him to receive them with diminished reluctance, and a less painful

weight of obligation? This end, however, must be accomplished, if to be

accomplished at all, by a simple and fair explanation of the

circumstances, which may render the action in no wise inconvenient to

ourselves, though highly beneficial to another; not by speeches of

affected disparagement, which we might easily foresee, and in fact do

foresee, must produce the contrary effect. Can we, from motives of

kindness, incur or risk the charge of being deficient in spirit, in

penetration, or in foresight? Do we tell another of his faults, when the

communication, though probably beneficial to _him_, cannot be made

without embarrassment or pain to ourselves, and may probably lessen his

regard for our person, or his opinion of our judgment? Can we stifle a

repartee which would wound another; though the utterance of it would

gratify our vanity, and the suppression of it may disparage our

character for wit? If any one advance a mistaken proposition, in an

instance wherein the error may be mischievous to him; can we, to the

prejudice perhaps of our credit for discernment, forbear to contradict

him in public, if it be probable that in so doing, by piquing his pride

we might only harden him in his error? and can we reserve our counsel

for some more favourable season, the "mollia tempora fandi," when it may

be communicated without offence? If we have recommended to any one a

particular line of conduct, or have pointed out the probable mischiefs

of the opposite course, and if our admonitions have been neglected, are

we _really hurt_ when our predictions of evil are accomplished? Is our

love superior to envy, and jealousy, and emulation? Are we acute to

discern and forward to embrace any fair opportunity of promoting the

interests of another; if it be in a line wherein we ourselves also are

moving, and in which we think our progress has not been proportioned to

our desert? Can we take pleasure in bringing his merits into notice, and

in obviating the prejudices which may have damped his efforts, or in

removing the obstacles which may have retarded his advancement? If even

to this extent we should be able to stand the scrutiny, let it be

farther asked how, in the case of our enemies, do we correspond with the

Scripture representations of love? Are we meek under provocations, ready

to forgive, and apt to forget injuries? Can we, with sincerity, "bless

them that curse us, do good to them that hate us, and pray for them

which despitefully use us, and persecute us?" Do we prove to the

Searcher of hearts a real spirit of forgiveness, by our forbearing not

only from avenging an injury when it is in our power, but even from

telling to any one how ill we have been used; and that too when we are

not kept silent by a consciousness that we should lose credit by

divulging the circumstance? And lastly, can we not only be content to

return our enemies good for evil, (for this return, as has been remarked

by one of the greatest of uninspired authorities,[95] may be prompted by

pride and repaid by self-complacency) but, when they are successful or

unsuccessful without our having contributed to their good or ill

fortune, can we not only be content, but cordially rejoice in their

prosperity, or sympathize with their distresses?

These are but a few specimens of the characteristic marks which might be

stated, of a true predominant benevolence; yet even these may serve to

convince us how far the bulk of nominal Christians fall short of the

requisitions of Scripture, even in that particular, which exhibits their

character in the most favourable point of view. The truth is, we do not

enough call to mind the exalted tone of Scripture morality; and are

therefore apt to value ourselves on the heights to which we attain, when

a better acquaintance with our standard would have convinced us of our

falling far short of the elevation prescribed to us. It is in the very

instance of the most difficult of the duties lately specified, the

forgiveness and love of enemies, that our Saviour points out to our

imitation the example of our Supreme Benefactor. After stating that, by

being kind and courteous to those who, even in the world's opinion, had

a title to our good offices and good will, we should in vain set up a

claim to _Christian_ benevolence, he emphatically adds, "Be ye

therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect."

We must here again resort to a topic which was lately touched on, that

of theatrical amusements; and recommend it to their advocates to

consider them in connection with the duty, of which we have now been

exhibiting some of the leading characters.

It is an undeniable fact, for the truth of which we may safely appeal to

every age and nation, that the situation of the performers, particularly

of those of the female sex, is remarkably unfavourable to the

maintenance and growth of the religious and moral principle, and of

course highly dangerous to their eternal interests. Might it not then be

fairly asked, how far, in all who confess the truth of this position, it

is consistent with the sensibility of Christian benevolence, merely for

the entertainment of an idle hour, to encourage the continuance of any

of their fellow-creatures in such a way of life, and to take a part in

tempting any others to enter into it? how far, considering that, by

their own concession, they are employing whatever they spend in this

way, in sustaining and advancing the cause of vice, and consequently in

promoting misery; they are herein bestowing this share of their wealth

in a manner agreeable to the intentions of their holy and benevolent

Benefactor? how far also they are not in this instance the rather

criminal, from there being so many sources of innocent pleasure open to

their enjoyment? how far they are acting conformably to that golden

principle of doing to others as we would they should do to us? how far

they harmonize with the spirit of the Apostle's affectionate

declaration, that he would deny himself for his whole life the most

innocent indulgence, nay, what might seem almost an absolute necessary,

rather than cause his weak fellow Christian to offend? or lastly, how

far they are influenced by the solemn language of our Saviour himself;

"It must needs be that offences come, but woe to that man by whom the

offence cometh; it were better for him that a mill-stone were hanged

about his neck, and that he were cast into the depths of the sea?" The

present instance is perhaps another example of our taking greater

concern in the temporal, than in the spiritual interests of our fellow

creatures. That man would be deemed, and justly deemed, of an inhuman

temper, who in these days were to seek his amusement in the combats of

gladiators and prize fighters: yet _Christians_ appear conscious of no

inconsistency, in finding their pleasure in spectacles maintained at the

risk at least, if not the ruin, of the eternal happiness of those who

perform in them!

SECT. VI.

_Grand defect.--Neglect of the peculiar Doctrines of Christianity._

But the grand radical defect in the practical system of these nominal

Christians, is their forgetfulness of all the peculiar doctrines of the

Religion which they profess--the corruption of human nature--the

atonement of the Saviour--and the sanctifying influence of the Holy

Spirit.

Here then we come again to the grand distinction, between the Religion

of Christ and that of the bulk of nominal Christians in the present

day. The point is of the utmost _practical importance_, and we would

therefore trace it into its actual effects.

There are, it is to be apprehended, not a few, who having been for some

time hurried down the stream of dissipation in the indulgence of all

their natural appetites, (except, perhaps, that they were restrained

from very gross vice by a regard to character, or by the yet unsubdued

voice of conscience); and who, having all the while thought little, or

scarcely at all about Religion, "living," to use the emphatical language

of Scripture, "without God in the world," become in some degree

impressed with a sense of the infinite importance of Religion. A fit of

sickness, perhaps, or the loss of some friend or much loved relative, or

some other stroke of adverse fortune, damps their spirits, awakens them

to a practical conviction of the precariousness of all human things, and

turns them to seek for some more stable foundation of happiness than

this world can afford. Looking into themselves ever so little, they

become sensible that they must have offended God. They resolve

accordingly to set about the work of reformation.--Here it is that we

shall recognize the fatal effects of the prevailing ignorance of the

real nature of Christianity, and the general forgetfulness of its grand

peculiarities. These men _wish_ to reform, but they know neither the

real _nature_ of their distemper nor its true remedy. They are aware,

indeed, that they must "cease to do evil, and learn to do well;" that

they must relinquish their habits of vice, and attend more or less to

the duties of Religion: but having no conception of the actual

malignity of the disease under which they labour, or of the perfect cure

which the Gospel has provided for it, or of the manner in which that

cure is to be effected,

"They do but skin and film the ulcerous place,

While rank corruption, mining all within,

Infects unseen."

It often happens therefore but too naturally in this case, that where

they do not soon desist from their attempt at reformation, and relapse

into their old habits of sin; they take up with a partial and scanty

amendment, and fondly flatter themselves that it is a thorough change.

They now conceive that they have a right to take to themselves the

comforts of Christianity. Not being able to raise their practice up to

their standard of right, they lower their standard to their practice:

they sit down for life contented with their present attainments,

beguiled by the complacencies of their own minds, and by the favourable

testimony of surrounding friends; and it often happens, particularly

where there is any degree of strictness in formal and ceremonial

observances, that there are no people more jealous of their character

for Religion.

Others perhaps go farther than this. The dread of the wrath to come has

sunk deeper into their hearts; and for a while they strive with all

their might to resist their evil propensities, and to walk without

stumbling in the path of duty. Again and again they resolve; again and

again they break their resolutions[96]: All their endeavours are

foiled, and they become more and more convinced of their own moral

weakness, and of the strength of their indwelling corruption. Thus

groaning under the enslaving power of sin, and experiencing the futility

of the utmost efforts which they can use for effecting their

deliverance, they are tempted (sometimes it is to be feared they yield

to the temptation) to give up all in despair, and to acquiesce under

their wretched captivity, conceiving it impossible to break their

chains. Sometimes, probably, it even happens that they are driven to

seek for refuge from their disquietude in the suggestions of infidelity;

and to quiet their troublesome consciences by arguments which they

themselves scarcely believe, at the very moment in which they suffer

themselves to be lulled asleep by them. In the mean time while this

conflict has been going on, their walk is sad and comfortless, and their

couch is nightly watered with tears. These men are pursuing the right

object, but they mistake the way in which it is to be obtained. _The

path in which they are now treading is not that which the Gospel has

provided for conducting them to true holiness, nor will they find in it

any solid peace._

Persons under these circumstances naturally seek for religious

instruction. They turn over the works of our modern Religionists, and

as well as they can collect the advice addressed to men in their

situation: the substance of it is, at the best, of this sort; "Be sorry

indeed for your sins, and discontinue the practice of them, but do not

make yourselves so uneasy. Christ died for the sins of the whole world.

Do your utmost; discharge with fidelity the duties of your stations, not

neglecting your religious offices; and fear not but that in the end all

will go well; and that having thus performed the conditions required on

your part, you will at last obtain forgiveness of our merciful Creator

through the merits of Jesus Christ, and be aided, where your own

strength shall be insufficient, by the assistance of his Holy Spirit.

Meanwhile you cannot do better than read carefully such books of

practical divinity, as will instruct you in the principles of a

Christian life. We are excellently furnished with works of this nature;

and it is by the diligent study of them that you will gradually become a

proficient in the lessons of the Gospel."

But the holy Scriptures, and with them the Church of England, call upon

those who are in the circumstances above-stated, to _lay afresh the

whole foundation of their Religion_. In concurrence with the Scripture,

that Church calls upon them, in the first place, gratefully to adore

that undeserved goodness which has awakened them from the sleep of

death; to prostrate themselves before the Cross of Christ with humble

penitence and deep self-abhorrence; solemnly resolving to forsake all

their sins, but relying on the Grace of God alone for power to keep

their resolution. Thus, and thus only, she assures them that all their

crimes will be blotted out, and that they will receive from above a new

living principle of holiness. She produces from the Word of God the

ground and warrant of her counsel; "Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ,

and thou shalt be saved."--"No man," says our blessed Saviour, "cometh

unto the Father but by me."--"I am the true Vine. As the branch cannot

bear fruit of itself except it abide in the vine, no more can ye except

ye abide in me."--"He that abideth in me and I in him, the same bringeth

forth much fruit; for without" (or severed from) "me ye can do

nothing,"--"By grace ye are saved through faith, and that not of

yourselves, it is the gift of God; not of works, lest any man should

boast: for we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good

works."

Let us not be thought tedious, or be accused of running into needless

repetitions, in pressing this point with so much earnestness. It is in

fact a point which can never be too much insisted on. It is the cardinal

point on which the whole of Christianity turns; on which it is

peculiarly proper in this place to be perfectly distinct. There have

been some who have imagined that the wrath of God was to be deprecated,

or his favour conciliated, by austerities and penances, or even by forms

and ceremonies, and external observances. But all men of enlightened

understandings, who acknowledge the moral government of God, must also

acknowledge, that vice must offend and virtue delight him. In short they

must, more or less, assent to the Scripture declaration, "without

holiness no man shall see the Lord." But the grand distinction, which

subsists between the true Christian and all other Religionists, (the

class of persons in particular whom it is our object to address) is

concerning the _nature_ of this holiness, and the _way in which it is to

be obtained_. The views entertained by the latter, of the _nature_ of

holiness, are of all degrees of inadequateness; and they conceive it is

to be _obtained_ by their own natural unassisted efforts: or if they

admit some vague indistinct notion of the assistance of the Holy Spirit,

it is unquestionably obvious, on conversing with them, that this does

not constitute the _main practical_ ground of their dependence. _But the

nature of the holiness, to which the desires of the true Christian are

directed, is no other than the restoration of the image of God: and as

to the manner of acquiring it, disclaiming with indignation every idea

of attaining it by his own strength, all his hopes of possessing it rest

altogether on the divine assurances of the operation of the Holy Spirit,

in those who cordially embrace the Gospel of Christ. He knows therefore

that this holiness is not to_ PRECEDE _his reconciliation to God, and be

its_ CAUSE; _but to_ FOLLOW _it, and be its_ EFFECT. _That in short it

is by_ FAITH IN CHRIST _only[97] that he is to be justified in the sight

of God; to be delivered from the condition of a child of wrath, and a

slave of Satan; to be adopted into the family of God; to become an heir

of God and a joint heir with Christ, entitled to all the privileges

which belong to this high relation; here, to the Spirit of Grace, and a

partial renewal after the image of his Creator; hereafter, to the more

perfect possession of the Divine likeness, and an inheritance of eternal

glory._

And as it is in this way, that, in obedience to the dictates of the

Gospel, the true Christian must originally become possessed of the vital

spirit and living principle of universal holiness; so, in order to grow

in grace, he must also study in the same school; finding in the

consideration of the peculiar doctrines of the Gospel, and in the

contemplation of the life, and character, and sufferings of our blessed

Saviour, the elements of all practical wisdom, and an inexhaustible

storehouse of instructions and motives, no otherwise to be so well

supplied. From the neglect of these peculiar doctrines arise the main

practical errors of the bulk of professed Christians. These gigantic

truths retained in view, would put to shame the littleness of their

dwarfish morality. It would be impossible for them to make these

harmonize with their low conceptions, of the wretchedness and danger of

their natural state, which is represented in Scripture as having so

powerfully called forth the compassion of God, that he sent his only

begotten Son to rescue us. Where _now_ are their low conceptions of the

worth of the soul, when means like these were taken to redeem it? Where

_now_ their inadequate conceptions of the guilt of sin, for which in the

divine counsels it seemed requisite that an atonement no less costly

should be made, than that of the blood of the only begotten Son of God?

How can they reconcile their low standard of Christian practice with the

representation of our being "temples of the Holy Ghost?" Their cold

sense of obligation, and scanty grudged returns of service, with the

glowing gratitude of those who, having been "delivered from the power of

darkness, and translated into the kingdom of God's dear Son," may well

conceive that the labours of a whole life will be but an imperfect

expression of their thankfulness.

The peculiar doctrines of the Gospel being once admitted, the

conclusions which have been now suggested are clear and obvious

deductions of reason. But our neglect of these important truths is still

less pardonable, because they are distinctly and repeatedly applied in

Scripture to the very purposes in question, and the whole superstructure

of Christian morals is grounded on their deep and ample basis. Sometimes

these truths are represented in Scripture, _generally_, as furnishing

Christians with a vigorous and ever present principle of universal

obedience. And our slowness in learning the lessons of heavenly wisdom

is still further stimulated, by almost every particular Christian duty

being occasionally traced to them as to its proper source. They are

every where represented as warming the hearts of the people of God on

earth with continual admiration, and thankfulness, and love, and joy; as

triumphing over the attack of the last great enemy, and as calling forth

afresh in Heaven the ardent effusions of their unexhausted gratitude.

If then we would indeed be "filled with wisdom and spiritual

understanding;" if we would "walk worthy of the Lord unto all well

pleasing, being fruitful in every good work, and increasing in the

knowledge of God;" here let us fix our eyes! "Laying aside every weight,

and the sin that does so easily beset us; let us run with patience the

race that is set before us, LOOKING UNTO JESUS, the Author and Finisher

of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the

cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the

throne of God[98]."

Here best we may learn the infinite _importance_ of Christianity. How

little it can deserve to be treated in that slight and superficial way,

in which it is in these days regarded by the bulk of nominal Christians,

who are apt to think it may be enough, and almost equally pleasing to

God, to be religious _in any way_, and upon _any_ system. What exquisite

folly it must be to risk the soul on such a venture, in direct

contradiction to the dictates of reason, and the express declaration of

the word of God! "How shall we escape, if we neglect so great

salvation?"

LOOKING UNTO JESUS!

Here we shall best learn the duty and reasonableness of an absolute and

unconditional surrender of soul and body to the will and service of

God.--"We are not our own; for we are bought with a price," and must

"therefore" make it our grand concern to "glorify God with our bodies

and our spirits, which are God's." Should we be base enough, even if we

could do it with safety, to make any reserves in our returns of service

to that gracious Saviour, who "gave up _himself_ for us?" If we have

formerly talked of compounding by the performance of some commands for

the breach of others; can we now bear the mention of a _composition_ of

duties, or of retaining to ourselves the right of practising _little_

sins! The very suggestion of such an idea fills us with indignation and

shame, if our hearts be not dead to every sense of gratitude.

LOOKING UNTO JESUS!

Here we find displayed, in the most lively colours, the guilt of sin,

and how hateful it must be to the perfect holiness of that Being, "who

is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity." When we see that, rather than

sin should go unpunished, "God spared not his own Son," but "was

_pleased_[99], to bruise him and put him to grief" for our sakes; how

vainly must impenitent sinners flatter themselves with the hope of

escaping the vengeance of Heaven, and buoy themselves up with I know not

what desperate dreams of the Divine benignity!

Here too we may anticipate the dreadful sufferings of that state, "where

shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth;" when rather than that we should

undergo them, "the Son of God" himself, who "thought it no robbery to be

equal with God," consented to take upon him our degraded nature with all

its weaknesses and infirmities; to be "a man of sorrows," "to hide not

his face from shame and spitting," "to be wounded for our

transgressions, and bruised for our iniquities," and at length to endure

the sharpness of death, "even the death of the Cross," that he might

"deliver us from the wrath to come," and open the kingdom of Heaven to

all believers.

LOOKING UNTO JESUS!

_Here_ best we may learn to grow in the love of God! The certainty of

his pity and love towards repenting sinners, thus irrefragably

demonstrated, chases away the sense of tormenting fear, and best lays

the ground in us of a reciprocal affection. And while we steadily

contemplate this wonderful transaction, and consider in its several

relations the amazing truth, that "God spared not his own Son, but

delivered him up for us all;" if our minds be not utterly dead to every

impulse of sensibility, the emotions of admiration, of preference, of

hope, and trust, and joy, cannot but spring up within us, chastened with

reverential fear, and softened and quickened by overflowing

gratitude[100]. _Here_ we shall become animated by an abiding

disposition to endeavour to please our great Benefactor; and by a humble

persuasion, that the weakest endeavours of this nature will not be

despised by a Being, who has already proved himself so kindly affected

towards us[101]. _Here_ we cannot fail to imbibe an earnest desire of

possessing his favour, and a conviction, founded on his own declarations

thus unquestionably confirmed, that the desire shall not be

disappointed. Whenever we are conscious that we have offended this

gracious Being, a single thought of the great work of Redemption will be

enough to fill us with compunction. We shall feel a deep concern, grief

mingled with indignant shame, for having conducted ourselves so

unworthily towards one who to us has been infinite in kindness: we shall

not rest till we have reason to hope that he is reconciled to us; and we

shall watch over our hearts and conduct in future with a renewed

jealousy, lest we should again offend him. To those who are ever so

little acquainted with the nature of the human mind, it were superfluous

to remark, that the affections and tempers which have been enumerated,

are the infallible marks and the constituent properties of Love. Let

_him_ then who would abound and grow in this Christian principle, be

much conversant with the great doctrines of the Gospel.

It is obvious, that the attentive and frequent consideration of these

great doctrines, must have a still more direct tendency to produce and

cherish in our minds the principle of the love of Christ. But on this

head, so much was said in a former chapter, as to render any farther

observations unnecessary.

Much also has been already observed concerning the love of our

fellow-creatures, and it has been distinctly stated to be the

indispensable, and indeed the characteristic duty of Christians. It

remains, however to be here farther remarked, that this grace can no

where be cultivated with more advantage than at the foot of the cross.

No where can our Saviour's dying injunction to the exercise of this

virtue be recollected with more effect; "This is my commandment, that ye

love one another as I have loved you." No where can the admonition of

the Apostle more powerfully affect us; "Be ye kind one to another,

tender-hearted, forgiving one another, even as God, for Christ's sake,

hath forgiven you." The view of mankind which is here presented to us,

as having been all involved in one common ruin; and the offer of

deliverance held out to all, by the Son of God's giving of himself up to

pay the price of our reconciliation, produce that sympathy towards our

fellow-creatures, which, by the constitution of our nature, seldom

fails to result from the consciousness of an identity of interests and a

similarity of fortunes. Pity for an unthinking world assists this

impression. Our enmities soften and melt away: we are ashamed of

thinking much of the _petty injuries_ which we may have suffered, when

we consider what the Son of God, "who did no wrong, neither was guile

found in his mouth," patiently underwent. Our hearts become tender while

we contemplate this signal act of loving-kindness. We grow desirous of

imitating what we cannot but admire. A vigorous principle of enlarged

and active charity springs up within us; and we go forth with alacrity,

desirous of treading in the steps of our blessed Master, and of

manifesting our gratitude for his unmerited goodness, by bearing each

others burdens, and abounding in the disinterested labours of

benevolence.

LOOKING UNTO JESUS!

_He_ was meek and lowly of heart, and from the study of _his_ character

we shall best learn the lessons of humility. Contemplating the work of

Redemption, we become more and more impressed with the sense of our

natural darkness, and helplessness, and misery, from which it was

requisite to ransom us at such a price; more and more conscious that we

are utterly unworthy of all the amazing condescension and love which

have been manifested towards us; ashamed of the callousness of our

tenderest sensibility, and of the poor returns of our most active

services. Considerations like these, abating our pride and reducing our

opinion of _ourselves_, naturally moderate our pretensions towards

_others_. We become less disposed to exact that respect for our persons,

and that deference for our authority, which we naturally covet; we less

sensibly feel a slight, and less hotly resent it; we grow less

irritable, less prone to be dissatisfied; more soft, and meek, and

courteous, and placable, and condescending. We are not literally

required to practise the same humiliating submissions, to which our

blessed Saviour himself was not ashamed to stoop[102]; but the _spirit_

of the remark applies to us, "the servant is not greater than his Lord:"

and we should especially bear this truth in mind, when the occasion

calls upon us to discharge some duty, or patiently to suffer some ill

treatment, whereby our pride will be wounded, and we are likely to be in

some degree degraded from the rank we had possessed in the world's

estimation. At the same time the Sacred Scriptures assuring us, that to

the powerful operations of the Holy Spirit, purchased for us by the

death of Christ, we must be indebted for the success of all our

endeavours after improvement in virtue; the conviction of this truth

tends to render us diffident of our own powers, and to suppress the

first risings of vanity. Thus, while we are conducted to heights of

virtue no otherwise attainable, due care is taken to prevent our

becoming giddy from our elevation[103]. It is the Scripture

characteristic of the Gospel system, that by it all disposition to

exalt ourselves is excluded; and if we really grow in grace, we shall

grow also in humility.

LOOKING UNTO JESUS!

"He endured the cross, despising the shame."--While we steadily

contemplate this solemn scene, that sober frame of spirit is produced

within us, which best befits the Christian, militant here on earth. We

become impressed with a sense of the shortness and uncertainty of time,

and that it behoves us to be diligent in making provision for eternity.

In such a temper of mind, the pomps and vanities of life are cast behind

us as the baubles of children.--We lose our relish for the frolics of

gaiety, the race of ambition, or the grosser gratifications of

voluptuousness. In the case even of those objects, which may more justly

claim the attention of reasonable and immortal beings; in our family

arrangements, in our plans of life, in our schemes of business, we

become, without relinquishing the path of duty, more moderate in

pursuit, and more indifferent about the issue. Here also we learn to

correct the world's false estimate of things, and to "look through the

shallowness of earthly grandeur[104];" to venerate what is truly

excellent and noble, though under a despised and degraded form; and to

cultivate within ourselves that true magnanimity, which can make us rise

superior to the smiles or frowns of this world; that dignified composure

of soul which no earthly incidents can destroy or ruffle. Instead of

repining at any of the little occasional inconveniences we may meet with

in our passage through life; we are almost ashamed of the multiplied

comforts and enjoyments of our condition, when we think of him, who,

though "the Lord of glory," "had not where to lay his head." And if it

be our lot to undergo evils of more than ordinary magnitude, we are

animated under them by reflecting, that we are hereby more conformed to

the example of our blessed Master: though we must ever recollect one

important difference, that the sufferings of Christ were voluntarily

borne for _our_ benefit, and were probably far more exquisitely

agonizing than any which we are called upon to undergo. Besides, it must

be a solid support to us amidst all our troubles to know, that they do

not happen to us by chance; that they are not even merely the punishment

of sin; but that they are the dispensations of a kind Providence, and

sent on messages of mercy.--"The cup that our Father hath given us,

shall we not drink it?"--"Blessed Saviour! by the bitterness of thy

pains we may estimate the force of thy love; we are _sure_ of thy

kindness and compassion; thou wouldst not willingly call on us to

suffer; thou hast declared unto us, that all things shall finally work

together for good to them that love thee; and therefore, if thou so

ordainest it, welcome disappointment and poverty, welcome sickness and

pain, welcome even shame, and contempt, and calumny. If this be a rough

and thorny path, it is one in which thou hast gone before us. Where we

see thy footsteps we cannot repine. Meanwhile, thou wilt support us with

the consolations of thy grace; and even here thou canst more than

compensate to us for any temporal sufferings, by the possession of that

peace, which the world can neither give nor take away."

LOOKING UNTO JESUS!

"The Author and Finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set

before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at

the right hand of God." From the scene of our Saviour's weakness and

degradation, we follow him, in idea, into the realms of glory, where "he

is on the right hand of God; angels, and principalities, and powers

being made subject unto him."--But though changed in place, yet not in

nature, he is still full of sympathy and love; and having died "to save

his people from their sins," "he ever _liveth_ to make intercession for

them." Cheered by this animating view, the Christian's fainting spirits

revive. Under the heaviest burdens he feels his strength recruited; and

when all around him is dark and stormy, he can lift up an eye to Heaven,

radiant with hope, and glistening with gratitude. At such a season, no

dangers can alarm, no opposition can move, no provocations can irritate.

He may almost adopt, as the language of his sober exultation, what in

the philosopher was but an idle rant: and, considering that it is only

the garment of mortality which is subject to the rents of fortune; while

his spirit, cheered with the divine support, keeps its place within,

secure and unassailable, he can sometimes almost triumph at the stake,

or on the scaffold, and cry out amidst the severest buffets of

adversity, "Thou beatest but the case of Anaxarchus." But it is rarely

that the Christian is elevated with this "joy unspeakable and full of

glory:" he even lends himself to these views with moderation and

reserve. Often, alas! emotions of another kind fill him with grief and

confusion: and conscious of having acted unworthy of his high calling,

perhaps of having exposed himself to the just censure of a world ready

enough to spy out his infirmities, he seems to himself almost "to have

crucified the Son of God afresh, and put him to an open shame." But let

neither his joys intoxicate, nor his sorrows too much depress him. Let

him still remember that his _chief_ business while on earth is not to

meditate, but to act; that the seeds of moral corruption are apt to

spring up within him, and that it is requisite for him to watch over his

own heart with incessant care; that he is to discharge with fidelity the

duties of his particular station, and to conduct himself, according to

his measure, after the example of his blessed Master, whose meat and

drink it was to do the work of his heavenly Father; that he is

diligently to cultivate the talents with which God has entrusted him,

and assiduously to employ them in doing justice and shewing mercy, while

he guards against the assaults of any internal enemy. In short, he is to

demean himself, in all the common affairs of life, like an _accountable_

creature, who, in correspondence with the Scripture character of

Christians, is "waiting for the coming of the Lord Jesus Christ." Often

therefore he questions himself, "Am I employing my time, my fortune, my

bodily and mental powers, so as to be able to 'render up my account with

joy, and not with grief?' Am I 'adorning the doctrine of God my Saviour

in all things;' and proving that the servants of Christ, animated by a

principle of filial affection, which renders their work a service of

perfect freedom, are capable of as active and as persevering exertions,

as the votaries of fame, or the slaves of ambition, or the drudges of

avarice?"

Thus, without interruption to his labours, he may interpose occasional

thoughts of things unseen; and amidst the many little intervals of

business, may calmly look upwards to the heavenly Advocate, who is ever

pleading the cause of his people, and obtaining for them needful

supplies of grace and consolation. It is these realizing views, which

give the Christian a relish for the worship and service of the heavenly

world. And if these blessed images, "seen but through a glass darkly,"

can thus refresh the soul: what must be its state, when on the morning

of the resurrection it shall awake to the unclouded vision of celestial

glory! when, "to them that look for him, the Son of God shall appear a

second time without sin unto salvation!" when "sighing and sorrow being

fled away;" when doubts and fears no more disquieting, and the painful

consciousness of remaining imperfections no longer weighing down the

spirit, they shall enter upon the fruition of "those joys, which eye

hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither has it entered into the heart of

man to conceive;" and shall bear their part in that blessed

anthem--"Salvation to our God which sitteth upon the throne, and unto

the Lamb," for ever and ever!

Thus (never let it be forgotten) the main distinction between real

Christianity, and the system of the bulk of nominal Christians, chiefly

consists in the different place which is assigned in the two schemes to

the peculiar doctrines of the Gospel. These, in the scheme of nominal

Christians, if admitted at all, appear but like the stars of the

firmament to the ordinary eye. Those splendid luminaries draw forth

perhaps occasionally a transient expression of admiration, when we

behold their beauty, or hear of their distances, magnitudes, or

properties: now and then too we are led, perhaps, to muse upon their

possible uses: but however curious as subjects of speculation, after

all, it must be confessed, they twinkle to the common observer with a

vain and "idle" lustre; and except in the dreams of the astrologer, have

no influence on human happiness, or any concern with the course and

order of the world. But to the _real_ Christian, on the contrary, THESE

_peculiar doctrines constitute the center to which he gravitates! the

very sun of his system! the soul of the world! the origin of all that is

excellent and lovely! the source of light, and life, and motion, and

genial warmth, and plastic energy!_ Dim is the light of reason, and cold

and comfortless our state, while left to her unassisted guidance. Even

the Old Testament itself, though a revelation from Heaven, shines but

with feeble and scanty rays. But the blessed truths of the Gospel are

now unveiled to _our_ eyes, and _we_ are called upon to behold, and to

enjoy "the light of the knowledge of the glory of God, in the face of

Jesus Christ," in the full radiance of its meridian splendor. The words

of inspiration best express our highly favoured state: "We all, with

open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed

into the same image, from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the

Lord."

Thou art the source and center of all minds,

Their only point of rest, ETERNAL WORD

From thee departing, they are lost, and rove

At random, without honour, hope, or peace:

From thee is all that soothes the life of man;

His high endeavour, and his glad success;

His strength to suffer, and his will to serve.

But O! thou bounteous Giver of all good!

Thou art of all thy gifts thyself the crown:

Give what thou canst, without thee we are poor,

And with thee rich, take what thou wilt away.

CHAPTER V.

_On the Excellence of Christianity in certain important Particulars.

Argument which results thence in Proof of its divine Origin._

The writer of the present work, having now completed a faint delineation

of the leading features of real Christianity, may be permitted to

suspend for a few moments the farther execution of his plan, for the

purpose of pointing out some excellences which she really possesses; but

which, as they are not to be found in that superficial system which so

unworthily usurps her name, appear scarcely to have attracted sufficient

notice. If he should seem to be deviating from the plan which he

proposed to himself, he would suggest as his excuse; that the

observations which he is about to offer will furnish a strong argument,

in favour of the correctness of his preceding delineation of

Christianity, since she will _now_ appear to exhibit more clearly, than

as she is usually drawn, the characters of her Divine original.

It holds true, indeed, in the case of Christianity, as in that of all

the works of God, that though a superficial and cursory view cannot

fail to discover to us somewhat of their beauty; yet, when on a more

careful and accurate scrutiny we become better acquainted with their

properties, we become also more deeply impressed by a conviction of

their excellence. We may begin by referring to the last chapter for an

instance of the truth of this assertion. Therein was pointed out that

intimate connection, that perfect harmony, between the leading doctrines

and the practical precepts of Christianity, which is apt to escape the

attention of the ordinary eye.

It may not be improper also to remark, though the position be so obvious

as almost to render the statement of it needless, that there is the same

close connection and perfect harmony in the leading doctrines of

Christianity among each other. It is self-evident, that the corruption

of human nature, that our reconciliation to God by the atonement of

Christ, and that the restoration of our primitive dignity by the

sanctifying influence of the Holy Spirit, are all parts of one whole,

united in close dependence and mutual congruity.

Perhaps, however, it has not been sufficiently noticed, that in the

chief practical precepts of Christianity, there is the same essential

agreement, the same mutual dependency of one upon another. Let us survey

this fresh instance of the wisdom of that system, which is the only

solid foundation of our present or future happiness.

The virtues most strongly and repeatedly enjoined in Scripture, and by

our progress in which we may best measure our advancement in holiness,

are the fear and love of God and of Christ; love, kindness, and meekness

towards our fellow-creatures; indifference to the possessions and

events of this life, in comparison with our concern about eternal

things; self-denial, and humility.

It has been already pointed out in many particulars, how essentially

such of these Christian graces as respect the Divine Being are connected

with those, which have more directly for their objects our

fellow-creatures and ourselves. But in the case of these two last

descriptions of Christian graces; the more attentively we consider them

with reference to the acknowledged principles of human nature, and to

indisputable facts, the more we shall be convinced that they afford

mutual aid towards the acquisition of each other; and that when

acquired, they all harmonize with each other in perfect and essential

union. This truth may perhaps be sufficiently apparent from what has

been already remarked; but it may not be useless to dwell on it a little

more in detail. Take then the instances of loving-kindness and meekness

towards others; and observe the solid foundation which is laid for them

in self-denial, in moderation as to the good things of this life, and in

humility. The chief causes of enmity among men are, pride and

self-importance, the high opinion which men entertain of themselves, and

the consequent deference which they exact from others: the

over-valuation of worldly possessions and of worldly honours, and in

consequence, a too eager competition for them. The rough edges of one

man rub against those of another, if the expression may be allowed; and

the friction is often such as to injure the works, and disturb the just

arrangements and regular motions of the social machine. But by

Christianity all these roughnesses are filed down: every wheel rolls

round smoothly in the performance of its appointed function, and there

is nothing to retard the several movements, or break in upon the general

order. The religious system indeed of the bulk of nominal Christians is

satisfied with some tolerable appearances of virtue: and accordingly,

while it recommends love and beneficence, it tolerates, as has been

shewn, pride and vanity in many cases; it even countenances and commends

the excessive valuation of character; and at least allows a man's whole

soul to be absorbed in the pursuit of the object which he is following,

be it what it may of personal or professional success. But though these

latter qualities may, for the most part, fairly enough consist with a

soft exterior and courtly demeanor, they cannot so well accord with the

genuine internal principle of love. Some cause of discontent, some

ground of jealousy or of envy will arise, some suspicion will corrode,

some disappointment will sour, some slight or calumny will irritate and

provoke reprisals. In the higher walks of life, indeed, we learn to

disguise our emotions; but such will be the real inward feelings of the

soul, and they will frequently betray themselves when we are off our

guard, or when we are not likely to be disparaged by the discovery. This

state of the higher orders, in which men are scuffling eagerly for the

same objects, and wearing all the while such an appearance of sweetness

and complacency, has often appeared to me to be not ill illustrated by

the image of a gaming table. There, every man is intent only on his own

profit; the good success of one is the ill success of another, and

therefore the general state of mind of the parties engaged may be pretty

well conjectured. All this, however, does not prevent, in well-bred

societies, an exterior of perfect gentleness and good humour. But let

the same employment be carried on among the lower orders, who are not so

well schooled in the art of disguising their feelings; or in places

where, by general connivance, people are allowed to give vent to their

real emotions; and every passion will display itself, by which the

"human face divine" can be distorted and deformed. For those who never

have been present at so humiliating a scene, the pencil of Hogarth has

provided a representation of it, which is scarcely exaggerated; and the

horrid name[105], by which it is familiarly known among its frequenters,

sufficiently attests the fidelity of its resemblance.

But Christianity is not satisfied with producing merely the specious

guise of virtue. She requires the substantial reality, which may stand

the scrutinizing eye of that Being "who searches the heart." Meaning

therefore that the Christian should live and breathe; in an atmosphere,

as it were, of benevolence, she forbids whatever can tend to obstruct

its diffusion or vitiate its purity. It is on this principle that

Emulation is forbidden: for, besides that this passion almost insensibly

degenerates into envy, and that it derives its origin chiefly from pride

and a desire of self-exaltation; how can we easily love our neighbour as

ourselves, if we consider him at the same time our rival, and are intent

upon surpassing him in the pursuit of whatever is the subject of our

competition?

Christianity, again, teaches us not to set our hearts on earthly

possessions and earthly honours; and thereby provides for our really

loving, or even cordially forgiving, those who have been more successful

than ourselves in the attainment of them, or who have even designedly

thwarted us in the pursuit. "Let the rich," says the Apostle, "rejoice

in that he is brought low." How can he who means to attempt, in any

degree, to obey this precept, be irreconcilably hostile towards any one

who may have been instrumental in his depression?

Christianity also teaches us not to prize human estimation at a very

high rate; and thereby provides for the practice of her injunction, to

love from the heart those who, justly or unjustly, may have attacked our

reputation, and wounded our character. She commands not the shew, but

the reality of meekness and gentleness; and by thus taking away the

aliment of anger and the fomenters of discord, she provides for the

maintenance of peace, and the restoration of good temper among men, when

it may have sustained a temporary interruption.

It is another capital excellence of Christianity, that she values moral

attainments at a far higher rate than intellectual acquisitions, and

proposes to conduct her followers to the heights of virtue rather than

of knowledge. On the contrary, most of the false religious systems which

have prevailed in the world, have proposed to reward the labour of their

votary, by drawing aside the veil which concealed from the vulgar eye

their hidden mysteries, and by introducing him to the knowledge of their

deeper and more sacred doctrines.

This is eminently the case in the Hindoo, and in the Mahometan Religion,

in that of China, and, for the most part, in the various modifications

of ancient Paganism. In systems which proceed on this principle, it is

obvious that the bulk of mankind can never make any great proficiency.

There was accordingly, among the nations of antiquity, one system,

whatever it was, for the learned, and another for the illiterate. Many

of the philosophers spoke out, and professed to keep the lower orders in

ignorance for the general good; plainly suggesting that the bulk of

mankind was to be considered as almost of an inferior species. Aristotle

himself countenanced this opinion. An opposite mode of proceeding

naturally belongs to Christianity, which without distinction professes

an equal regard for all human beings, and which was characterized by her

first Promulgator as the messenger of "glad tidings to the poor."

But her preference of moral to intellectual excellence is not to be

praised, only because it is congenial with her general character, and

suitable to the ends which she professes to have in view. It is the part

of true wisdom to endeavour to excel there, where we may really attain

to excellence. This consideration might be alone sufficient to direct

our efforts to the acquisition of virtue rather than of knowledge.--How

limited is the range of the greatest human abilities! how scanty the

stores of the richest human knowledge! Those who undeniably have held

the first rank, both for natural and acquired endowments, instead of

thinking their pre-eminence a just ground of self-exaltation, have

commonly been the most forward to confess that their views were bounded

and their attainments moderate. Had they indeed been less candid, this

is a discovery which we could not have failed to make of ourselves.

Experience daily furnishes us with examples of weakness, and

short-sightedness, and error, in the wisest and the most learned of men,

which might serve to confound the pride of human wisdom.

Not so in morals.--Made at first in the likeness of God, and still

bearing about us some faint traces of our high original, we are offered

by our blessed Redeemer the means of purifying ourselves from our

corruptions, and of once more regaining the image of our Heavenly

Father[106]. In love, the compendious expression for almost every

virtue, in fortitude under all its forms, in justice, in humility, and

in all the other graces of the Christian character, we are made capable

of attaining to heights of real elevation: and were we but faithful in

the use of the means of grace which we enjoy; the operations of the Holy

Spirit, prompting and aiding our diligent endeavours, would infallibly

crown our labours with success, and make us partakers of a Divine

nature. The writer has himself known some who have been instances of the

truth of this remark. To the memory of one,[107] now no more, may he be

permitted to offer the last tribute of respectful friendship? His

course, short but laborious, has at length terminated in a better world;

and his luminous tract still shines in the sight, and animates the

efforts of all who knew him, and "marshals them the way" to Heavenly

glory. Let me not be thought to undervalue any of the gifts of God, or

of the fruits of human exertion: but let not these be prized beyond

their proper worth. If one of those little industrious reptiles, to

which we have been well sent for a lesson of diligence and foresight,

were to pride itself upon its strength, because it could carry off a

larger grain of wheat than any other of its fellow-ants; should we not

laugh at the vanity which could be highly gratified with such a

contemptible pre-eminence? And is it far different to the eye of reason,

when man, weak, short-sighted man, is vain of surpassing others in

knowledge, in which at best his progress must be so limited; forgetting

the true dignity of his nature, and the path which would conduct him to

real excellence?

The unparalleled value of the precepts of Christianity ought not be

passed over altogether unnoticed in this place, though it be needless to

dwell on it; since it has been often justly recognized and asserted, and

has in some points been ably illustrated, and powerfully enforced by the

masterly pen of a late writer. It is by no means however the design of

this little work to attempt to trace the various excellencies of

Christianity; but it may not have been improper to point out a few

particulars, which, in the course of investigation, have naturally

fallen under our notice, and hitherto perhaps may scarcely have been

enough regarded. Every such instance, it should always be remembered, is

a fresh proof of Christianity being a revelation from God.

It is still less, however, the intention of the writer to attempt to

vindicate the Divine origin of our Holy Religion. This task has often

been executed by far abler advocates. In particular, every Christian,

with whatever reserves his commendations must be disqualified, should be

forward to confess his obligations _on this head_ to the author before

alluded to; whose uncommon acuteness has enabled him, in a field already

so much trodden, to discover arguments which had eluded the observation

of all by whom he was preceded, and whose unequalled perspicuity puts

his reader in complete possession of the fruits of his sagacity.

Anxious, however, in my little measure, to contribute to the support of

this great cause, may it be permitted me to state one argument, which

impresses my mind with particular force. This is, the great variety of

the _kinds_ of evidence which have been adduced in proof of

Christianity, and the confirmation thereby afforded of its truth:--the

proof from prophecy--from miracles--from the character of Christ--from

that of his Apostles--from the nature of the doctrines of

Christianity--from the nature and excellence of her _practical

precepts_--from the accordance we have lately pointed out between the

doctrinal and practical system of Christianity, whether considered each

in itself or in their mutual relation to each other--from other species

of internal evidence, afforded in the more abundance in proportion as

the sacred records have been scrutinized with greater care--from the

account of co-temporary or nearly co-temporary writers--from the

impossibility of accounting on any other supposition, than that of the

truth of Christianity, for its promulgation and early prevalence: these

and other lines of argument have all been brought forward and ably urged

by different writers, in proportion as they have struck the minds of

different observers more or less forcibly. Now, granting that some

obscure and illiterate men, residing in a distant province of the Roman

empire, had plotted to impose a forgery upon the world; though some

foundation for the imposture might, and indeed must, have been attempted

to be laid; it seems, at least to my understanding, morally impossible

that _so many different species of proofs_, and all so strong, should

have lent their _concurrent_ aid, and have united their _joint_ force in

the establishment of the falsehood. It may assist the reader in

estimating the value of this argument, to consider upon how different a

footing, in this respect, has rested every other religious system,

without exception, which was ever proposed to the world; and, indeed,

every other historical fact, of which the truth has been at all

contested.