CHAPTER VII.

_Practical Hints to various Descriptions of Persons._

Thus have we endeavoured to trace the chief defects of the religious

system of the bulk of professed Christians in this country. We have

pointed out their low idea of the importance of Christianity in general;

their inadequate conceptions of all its leading doctrines, and the

effect hereby naturally produced in relaxing the strictness of its

practical system; more than all, we have remarked their grand

fundamental misconception of its genius and essential nature. Let not

therefore the difference between them and true believers be considered

as a minute difference; as a question of forms or opinions. The question

is of the very substance of Religion; the difference is of the most

serious and momentous amount. We must speak out. _Their Christianity is

not Christianity._ It wants the radical principle. It is mainly

defective in all the grand constituents. Let them no longer then be

deceived by names in a matter of infinite importance: but with humble

prayer to the Source of all wisdom, that he would enlighten their

understandings, and clear their hearts from prejudice; let them

seriously examine by the Scripture standard their real belief and

allowed practice, and they will become sensible of the shallowness of

their scanty system.

If through the blessing of Providence on any thing which may have been

here written, there should be any whom it has disposed to this important

duty of self-inquiry; let me previously warn them to be well aware of

our natural proneness to think too favourably of ourselves. Selfishness

is one of the principal fruits of the corruption of human nature; and it

is obvious that selfishness disposes us to over-rate our good qualities,

and to overlook or extenuate our defects. The corruption of human nature

therefore being admitted, it follows undeniably, that in all our

reckonings, if we would form a just estimate of our character, we must

make an allowance for the effects of selfishness. It is also another

effect of the corruption of human nature, to cloud our moral sight, and

blunt our moral sensibility. Something must therefore be allowed for

this effect likewise. Doubtless, the perfect purity of the Supreme Being

makes him see in us stains, far more in number and deeper in dye; than

we ourselves can discover. Nor should another awful consideration be

forgotten. When we look into ourselves, those sins only, into which we

have lately fallen, are commonly apt to excite any lively impression.

Many individual acts of vice, or a continued course of vicious or

dissipated conduct, which, when recent, may have smitten us with deep

remorse, after a few months or years leave but very faint traces in our

recollection; at least, those acts alone continue to strike us strongly,

which were of very extraordinary magnitude. But the strong impressions

which they at first excited, not the faded images which they

subsequently present to us, furnish the true measure of their guilt: and

to the pure eyes of God, this guilt must always have appeared far

greater than to us. Now to the Supreme Being we must believe that there

is no past or future; as whatever _will be_, so whatever _has been_, is

retained by him in present and unvarying contemplation, continuing

always to appear just the same as at the first moment of its happening.

Well may it then humble us in the sight of that Being "who is of purer

eyes than to behold iniquity;" to call to mind that, unless our offences

have been blotted out by our obtaining an interest in the satisfaction

of Christ, through true repentance and lively faith, we appear before

him clothed with the sins of our whole lives, in all their original

depth of colouring, and with all the aggravations which we no longer

particularly remember, but which, in general, we, perhaps, may recollect

to have once filled us with shame and confusion of face. The writer is

the rather desirous of enforcing this reflection; because he can truly

declare, that he has found no consideration so efficacious in producing

in his own mind the deepest self-abasement.

In treating of the sources of the erroneous estimates which we form of

our religious and moral character, it may not, perhaps, be without its

uses to take this occasion of pointing out some other common springs of

self-deception. Many persons, as was formerly hinted, are misled by the

favourable opinions entertained of them by others; many, it is to be

feared, mistake a hot zeal for orthodoxy, for a cordial acceptance of

the great truths of the Gospel; and almost all of us, at one time or

other, are more or less misled by confounding the suggestions of the

understanding with the impulses of the will, the assent which our

judgment gives to religious and moral truths, with a hearty belief and

approbation of them.

There is another frequent source of self-deception, which is productive

of so much mischief in life, that, though it may appear to lead to some

degree of repetition, it would be highly improper to omit the mention of

it in this place. That we may be the better understood, it may be proper

to premise, that certain particular vices, and likewise that certain

particular good and amiable qualities, seem naturally to belong to

certain particular periods and conditions of life. Now, if we would

reason fairly in estimating our moral character, we ought to examine

ourselves with reference to that particular "sin which does most easily

beset us," not to some other sin to which we are not nearly so much

liable. And in like manner, on the other hand, we ought not to account

it matter of much self-complacency, if we find in ourselves that good

and amiable quality which naturally belongs to our period or condition;

but rather look for some less ambiguous sign of a real internal

principle of virtue. But we are very apt to reverse these rules of

judging: we are very apt, on the one hand, both in ourselves and in

others, to excuse "the besetting sin," taking and giving credit for

being exempt from others, to which we or they are less liable; and on

the other hand, to value ourselves extremely on our possession of the

good or amiable quality which naturally belongs to us, and to require no

more satisfactory evidence of the _sufficiency_ at least of our moral

character. The bad effects of this partiality are aggravated by the

practice, to which we are sadly prone, of being contented, when we take

a hasty view of ourselves, with negative evidences of our state;

thinking it very well if we are not shocked by some great actual

transgression, instead of looking for the positive signs of a true

Christian, as laid down in the holy Scripture.

But the source of self-deception, which it is more particularly our

present object to point out, is a disposition to consider as a conquest

of any particular vice, our merely forsaking it on our quitting the

period or condition of life to which that vice belongs; when perhaps

also we substitute for it the vice of the new period or condition on

which we are entering. We thus mistake our merely outgrowing our vices,

or our relinquishing them from some change in our worldly circumstances,

for a thorough, or at least for a sufficient, reformation.

But this topic deserves to be viewed a little more closely. Young people

may, without much offence, be inconsiderate and dissipated; the youth of

one sex may indulge occasionally in licentious excesses; those of the

other may be supremely given up to vanity and pleasure: yet, provided

that they are sweet tempered, and open, and not disobedient to their

parents or other superiors, the former are deemed _good hearted_ young

men, the latter, _innocent_ young women. Those who love them best have

no solicitude about their spiritual interests: and it would be deemed

strangely strict in themselves, or in others, to doubt of their becoming

more religious as they advance in life; to speak of them as being

actually under the divine displeasure; or, if their lives should be in

danger, to entertain any apprehensions concerning their future destiny.

They grow older, and marry. The same licentiousness, which was formerly

considered in young men as a venial frailty, is now no longer regarded

in the husband and the father as compatible with the character of a

decently religious man. The language is of this sort; "they have sown

their wild oats, they must now reform, and be regular." Nor perhaps is

the same manifest predominance of vanity and dissipation deemed innocent

in the matron: but if they are kind respectively in their conjugal and

parental relations, and are tolerably regular and decent, they pass for

_mighty good sort of people_; and it would be altogether unnecessary

scrupulosity in them to doubt of their coming up to the requisitions of

the divine law, as far as in the present state of the world can be

expected from human frailty. Their hearts, however, are perhaps no more

than before supremely set on the great work of their salvation, but are

chiefly bent on increasing their fortunes, or raising their families.

Meanwhile they congratulate themselves on their having amended from

vices, which they are no longer strongly tempted to commit, or their

abstaining from which ought not to be too confidently assumed as a test

of the strength of the religious principle, since the commission of them

would prejudice their characters, and perhaps injure their fortune in

life.

Old age has at length made its advances. Now, if ever, we might expect

that it would be deemed high time to make eternal things the _main_

object of attention. No such thing! There is still an appropriate good

quality, the presence of which calms the disquietude, and satisfies the

requisitions both of themselves and of those around them. It is now

required of them that they should be good natured and cheerful,

indulgent to the frailties and follies of the young; remembering, that

when young themselves they gave into the same practices. How opposite

this to that dread of sin, which is the sure characteristic of the true

Christian; which causes him to look back upon the vices of his own

youthful days with shame and sorrow; and which, instead of conceding to

young people to be wild and thoughtless, as a privilege belonging to

their age and circumstances, prompts him to warn them against what had

proved to himself matter of such bitter retrospection! Thus, throughout

the whole of life, some means or other are devised for stifling the

voice of conscience. "We cry peace while there is no peace;" and both to

ourselves and others that complacency is furnished, which ought only to

proceed from a consciousness of being reconciled to God, and a humble

hope of our possessing his favour.

I know that these sentiments will be termed uncharitable; but I must not

be deterred by such an imputation. It is time to have done with that

senseless cant of charity, which insults the understandings, and trifles

with the feelings, of those who are really concerned for the happiness

of their fellow-creatures. What matter of keen remorse and of bitter

self-reproaches are they storing up for their future torment, who are

themselves its miserable dupes; or who, being charged with the office of

watching over the eternal interests of their children or relations,

suffer themselves to be lulled asleep, or beguiled by such shallow

reasonings into sparing themselves the momentary pain of executing their

important duty! Charity, indeed, is partial to the object of her regard;

and where actions are of a doubtful quality, this partiality disposes

her to refer them to a good, rather than to a bad, motive. She is apt

also somewhat to exaggerate merits, and to see amiable qualities in a

light more favourable than that which strictly belongs to them. But true

charity is wakeful, fervent, full of solicitude, full of good offices,

not so easily satisfied, not so ready to believe that every thing is

going on well as a matter of course; but jealous of mischief, apt to

suspect danger, and prompt to extend relief. These are the symptoms by

which genuine regard will manifest itself in a wife or a mother, in the

case of the _bodily_ health of the object of her affections. And where

there is any real concern for the _spiritual_ interests of others, it is

characterized by the same infallible marks. That wretched quality, by

which the sacred name of charity is now so generally and so falsely

usurped, is no other than indifference; which, against the plainest

evidence, or at least where there is strong ground of apprehension, is

easily contented to believe that all goes well, because it has no

anxieties to allay, no fears to repress. It undergoes no alternation of

passions; it is not at one time flushed with hope, nor at another

chilled by disappointment.

To a considerate and feeling mind, there is something deeply afflicting,

in seeing the engaging cheerfulness and cloudless gaiety incident to

youth, welcomed as a sufficient indication of internal purity by the

delighted parents; who, knowing the deceitfulness of these flattering

appearances, should eagerly avail themselves of this period, when once

wasted never to be regained, of good humoured acquiescence and dutiful

docility: a period when the soft and ductile temper of the mind renders

it more easily susceptible of the impressions we desire; and when,

therefore, habits should be formed, which may assist our natural

weakness to resist the temptations to which we shall be exposed in the

commerce of maturer life. This is more especially affecting in the

female sex, because that sex seems, by the very constitution of its

nature, to be more favourably disposed than ours to the feelings and

offices of Religion; being thus fitted by the bounty of Providence, the

better to execute the important task which devolves on it, of the

education of our earliest youth. Doubtless, this more favourable

disposition to Religion in the female sex, was graciously designed also

to make women doubly valuable in the wedded state: and it seems to

afford to the married man the means of rendering an active share in the

business of life more compatible, than it would otherwise be, with the

liveliest devotional feelings; that when the husband should return to

his family, worn and harassed by worldly cares or professional labours,

the wife, habitually preserving a warmer and more unimpaired spirit of

devotion, than is perhaps consistent with being immersed in the bustle

of life, might revive his languid piety; and that the religious

impressions of both might derive new force and tenderness from the

animating sympathies of conjugal affection. Can a more pleasing image be

presented to a considerate mind, than that of a couple, happy in each

other and in the pledges of their mutual love, uniting in an act of

grateful adoration to the author of all their mercies; recommending each

other, and the objects of their common care, to the divine protection;

and repressing the solicitude of conjugal and parental tenderness by a

confiding hope, that, through all the changes of this uncertain life,

the Disposer of all things will assuredly cause all to work together for

the good of them that love and put their trust in him; and that, after

this uncertain state shall have passed away, they shall be admitted to a

joint participation of never ending happiness. It is surely no mean or

ignoble office which we would allot to the female sex, when we would

thus commit to them the charge of maintaining in lively exercise

whatever emotions most dignify and adorn human nature; when we would

make them as it were the medium of our intercourse with the heavenly

world, the faithful repositories of the religious principle, for the

benefit both of the present and of the rising generation. Must it not

then excite our grief and indignation, when we behold mothers, forgetful

at once of their own peculiar duties, and of the high office which

Providence designed their daughters to fulfil; exciting, instead of

endeavoring to moderate in them, the natural sanguineness and

inconsiderateness of youth; hurrying them night after night to the

resorts of dissipation; thus teaching them to despise the _common_

comforts of the family circle; and, instead of striving to raise their

views, and to direct their affections to their true object, acting as if

with the express design studiously to extinguish every spark of a

devotional spirit, and to kindle in its stead an excessive love of

pleasure, and, perhaps, a principle of extravagant vanity, and ardent

emulation!

_Innocent young women! Good hearted young men!_ Wherein does this

_goodness of heart_ and this _innocence_ appear? Remember that we are

fallen creatures, born in sin, and naturally depraved. Christianity

recognises no _innocence_ or _goodness of heart_, but in the remission

of sin, and in the effects of the operation of divine grace. Do we find

in these young persons the characters, which the holy Scriptures lay

down as the only satisfactory evidences of a safe state? Do we not on

the other hand discover the specified marks of a state of alienation

from God? Can the blindest partiality persuade itself that _they_ are

loving, or striving "to love God with all their hearts, and minds, and

souls, and strength?" Are _they_ "seeking first the kingdom of God, and

his righteousness?" Are _they_ "working out their salvation with fear

and trembling?" Are _they_ "clothed with humility?" Are _they_ not, on

the contrary, supremely given up to self-indulgence? Are _they_ not at

least "lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God?" Are the offices of

Religion _their_ solace or _their_ task? Do _they_ not come to these

sacred services with reluctance, continue in them by constraint, and

quit them with gladness? And of how many of _these_ persons may it not

be affirmed in the spirit of the prophet's language: "The harp, and the

viol, the tabret and pipe, and wine, are in their feasts: but they

regard not the work of the Lord, neither consider the operation of his

hands?" Are not the youth of one sex often actually committing, and

still more often wishing for the opportunity to commit, those sins of

which the Scripture says expressly, "that they which do such things

_shall not_ inherit the kingdom of God?" Are not the youth of the other

mainly intent on the gratification of vanity; and looking for their

chief happiness to the resorts of gaiety and fashion, to all the

multiplied pleasures which public places, or the still higher

gratifications of more refined circles, can supply?

And then, when the first ebullitions of youthful warmth are over, what

is their boasted reformation? They may be decent, sober, useful,

respectable, as members of the community, or amiable in the relations of

domestic life. But is _this_ the change of which the Scripture speaks?

Hear the expressions which it uses, and judge for yourselves--"Except a

man be _born again_, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God."--"The

_old man_--is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts;" an expression

but too descriptive of the vain delirium of youthful dissipation, and of

the false dreams of pleasure which it inspires; but "the _new man_" is

awakened from this fallacious estimate of happiness; "_he_ is renewed in

knowledge after the image of him that created him"--"He is created

_after God_ in righteousness and true holiness." The persons of whom we

are speaking are no longer, indeed, so thoughtless, and wild, and

dissipated, as formerly; so negligent in their attention to objects of

real value; so eager in the pursuit of pleasure; so prone to yield to

the impulse of appetite. But this is no more than the change of which a

writer of no very strict cast speaks, as naturally belonging to their

riper age:

Conversis studiis, aetas animusque virilis

Quaerit opus, & amicitias: inservit honori:

Commisisse cavet, quod mox mutare laboret.

HOR.

This is a point of infinite importance: let it not be thought tedious to

spend even yet a few more moments in the discussion of it. Put the

question to another issue, and try it, by appealing to the principle of

life being a state of probation; (a proposition, indeed, true in a

certain sense, though not exactly in that which is sometimes assigned to

it,) and you will still be led to no very different conclusion.

Probation implies resisting, in obedience to the dictates of Religion,

appetites which we are naturally prompted to gratify. Young people are

not tempted to be churlish, interested, covetous; but to be

inconsiderate and dissipated, "lovers of pleasure more than lovers of

God." People again in middle age are not so strongly tempted to be

thoughtless, and idle, and licentious. From excesses of this sort they

are sufficiently withheld, particularly when happily settled in domestic

life, by a regard to their characters, by the restraints of family

connections, and by a sense of what is due to the decencies of the

married state. _Their_ probation is of another sort; _they_ are tempted

to be supremely engrossed by worldly cares, by family interests, by

professional objects, by the pursuit of wealth or of ambition. Thus

occupied, they are tempted to "mind earthly rather than heavenly

things," forgetting "the one thing needful;" to "set their affections"

on temporal rather than eternal concerns, and to take up with "a form of

godliness," instead of seeking to experience the power thereof: the

foundations of this nominal Religion being laid, as was formerly

explained more at large, in the forgetfulness, if not in the ignorance,

of the peculiar doctrines of Christianity. These are the _ready-made_

Christians formerly spoken of, who consider Christianity as a

geographical term, properly applicable to all those who have been born

and educated in a country wherein Christianity is professed; not as

indicating a renewed nature, as expressive of a peculiar character, with

its appropriate desires and aversions, and hopes, and fears, and joys,

and sorrows. To people of this description, the solemn admonition of

Christ is addressed; "I know thy works; that thou hast a name that thou

livest, and art dead. Be watchful, and strengthen the things which

remain that are ready to die; for I have not found thy works perfect

before God."

If there be any who is inclined to listen to this solemn warning, who is

awakened from his dream of false security, and is disposed to be not

only _almost_ but _altogether_ a Christian--O! let him not stifle or

dissipate these beginnings of seriousness, but sedulously cherish them

as the "workings of the Divine Spirit," which would draw him from the

"broad" and crowded "road of destruction into the narrow" and thinly

peopled path "that leadeth to life." Let him retire from the

multitude--Let him enter into his closet, and on his bended knees

implore, for Christ's sake and in reliance on his mediation, that God

would "take away from him the heart of stone, and give him a heart of

flesh;" that the Father of light would open his eyes to his true

condition, and clear his heart from the clouds of prejudice, and

dissipate the deceitful medium of self-love. Then let him carefully

examine his past life, and his present course of conduct, comparing

himself with God's word: and considering how any one might reasonably

have been expected to conduct himself, to whom the Holy Scriptures had

been always open, and who had been used to acknowledge them to be the

revelation of the will of his Creator, and Governor, and Supreme

Benefactor; let him there peruse the awful denunciations against

impenitent sinners; let him labour to become more and more deeply

impressed with a sense of his own radical blindness and corruption;

above all, let him steadily contemplate, in all its bearings and

connections, that stupendous truth, _the incarnation and crucifixion of

the only begotten Son of God, and the message of mercy proclaimed from

the cross to repenting sinners_.--"Be ye reconciled unto God."--"Believe

in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved."

When he fairly estimates the guilt of sin by the costly satisfaction

which was required to atone for it, and the worth of his soul by the

price which was paid for its redemption, and contrasts both of these

with his own sottish inconsiderateness; when he reflects on the amazing

love and pity of Christ, and on the cold and formal acknowledgments with

which he has hitherto returned this infinite obligation, making light of

the precious blood of the Son of God, and trifling with the gracious

invitations of his Redeemer: surely, if he be not lost to sensibility,

mixed emotions of guilt, and fear, and shame, and remorse, and sorrow,

will nearly overwhelm his soul; he will smite upon his breast, and cry

out in the language of the publican, "God be merciful to me a sinner."

But, blessed be God, such an one needs not despair--it is to persons in

this very situation, and with these very feelings, that the offers of

the Gospel are held forth, and its promises assured; "to the weary and

heavy laden" under the burden of their sins; to them who thirst for the

water of life; to them who feel themselves "tied and bound by the chain

of their sins;" who abhor their captivity, and long earnestly for

deliverance. Happy, happy souls! which the grace of God has visited,

"has brought out of darkness into his marvellous light," and "from the

power of Satan unto God." Cast yourselves then on his undeserved mercy;

he is full of love, and will not spurn you: surrender yourselves into

his hands, and solemnly resolve, through his Grace, to dedicate

henceforth all your faculties and powers to his service.

It is your's now "to work out your own salvation with fear and

trembling," relying on the fidelity of him who has promised to "work in

you both to will and to do of his good pleasure." Ever look to him for

help: your only safety consists in a deep and abiding sense of your own

weakness, and in a firm reliance on his strength. If you "give all

diligence," his power is armed for your protection, his truth is pledged

for your security. You are enlisted under the banner of Christ--Fear

not, though the world, and the flesh, and the devil are set in array

against you.--"Faithful is he that hath promised;"--"be ye also faithful

unto death, and he will give you a crown of life."--"He that endureth

to the end, the same shall be saved." In such a world as this, in such a

state of society as ours, especially if in the higher walks of life, you

must be prepared to meet with many difficulties:--arm yourselves,

therefore, in the first place, with a determined resolution not to rate

human estimation beyond its true value; not to dread the charge of

particularity, when it shall be necessary to incur it; but as was before

recommended, let it be your constant endeavour to retain before your

mental eye, that bright assemblage of invisible spectators, who are the

witnesses of your daily conduct, and "to seek that honour which cometh

from God." You cannot advance a single step, till you are in some good

measure possessed of this comparative indifference to the favour of men.

We have before explained ourselves too clearly to render it necessary to

declare, that no one should needlessly affect singularity: but to aim at

incompatible advantages, to seek to please God and the world, where

their commands are really at variance, is the way to be neither

respectable, nor good, nor happy. Continue to be ever aware of your own

radical corruption and habitual weakness. Indeed, if your eyes be really

opened, and your heart truly softened, "hungering and thirsting after

righteousness," rising in your ideas of true holiness, and proving the

genuineness of your hope by desiring "to purify yourself even as God is

pure;" you will become daily more and more sensible of your own defeats,

and wants, and weaknesses; and more and more impressed by a sense of the

mercy and long suffering of that gracious Saviour, "who forgiveth all

your sin, and healeth all your infirmities."

This is the solution of what to a man of the world might seem a strange

paradox, that in proportion as the Christian grows in grace, he grows

also in humility. Humility is indeed the vital principle of

Christianity; that principle by which from first to last she lives and

thrives, and in proportion to the growth or decline of which she must

decay or flourish. _This_ first disposes the sinner in deep

self-abasement to accept the others of the Gospel; _this_, during his

whole progress, is the very ground and basis of his feelings and

conduct, both in relation to God, his fellow creatures, and himself; and

when at length he shall be translated into the realms of glory, _this_

principle shall still subsist in undiminished force: He shall "fall

down; and cast his crown before the Lamb; and ascribe blessing, and

honour, and glory, and power, to him that sitteth upon the throne, and

to the Lamb for ever and ever." The _practical_ benefits of this

habitual lowliness of spirit are too numerous, and at the same time too

obvious; to require enumeration. It will lead you to dread the

beginnings, and fly from the occasions of sin; as that man would shun

some infectious distemper, who should know that he was pre-disposed to

take the contagion. It will prevent a thousand difficulties, and decide

a thousand questions, concerning worldly compliances; by which those

persons are apt to be embarrassed, who are not duly sensible of their

own exceeding frailty, whose views of the Christian character are not

sufficiently elevated, and who are not enough possessed with a continual

fear of "grieving the Holy Spirit of God," and of thus provoking him to

withdraw his gracious influence. But if you are really such as we have

been describing, you need not be urged to set the standard of practice

high, and to strive after universal holiness. It is the desire of your

hearts to act in all things with a single eye to the favour of God, and

thus the most ordinary actions of life are raised into offices of

Religion. This is the purifying, the transmuting principle, which

realizes the fabled touch, which changes all to gold. But it belongs to

this desire of pleasing God, that we should be continually solicitous to

discover the path of duty; that we should not indolently wait, satisfied

with not refusing occasions of glorifying God, when they are forced upon

us; but that we should pray to God for wisdom and spiritual

understanding, that we may be, acute in discerning opportunities of

serving him in the world, and judicious in selecting and wise in

improving them. Guard indeed against the distraction of worldly cares;

and cultivate heavenly mindedness, and a spirit of continual prayer, and

neglect not to watch incessantly over the workings of your deceitful

heart: but be active also, and useful. Let not your precious time be

wasted "in shapeless idleness;" an admonition which, in our days, is

rendered but too necessary by the relaxed habits of persons even of real

piety: but wisely husband and improve this fleeting treasure. Never be

satisfied with your present attainments; but "forgetting the things

which are behind," labour still to "press forward" with undiminished

energy, and to run the race that is set before you without flagging in

your course.

Above all, measure your progress by your improvement in love to God and

man. "God is Love." This is the sacred principle, which warms and

enlightens the heavenly world, that blessed feat of God's visible

presence. There it shines with unclouded radiance. Some scattered beams

of it are graciously lent to us on earth, or we had been benighted and

left in darkness and misery; but a larger portion of it is infused into

the hearts of the servants of God, who thus "are renewed in the divine

likeness," and even here exhibit some faint traces of the image of their

heavenly Father. It is the principle of love which disposes them to

yield themselves up without reserve to the service of him, "who has

bought them with the price of his own blood."

Servile, and base, and mercenary, is the notion of Christian practice

among the bulk of nominal Christians. They give no more than they _dare_

not with-hold; they abstain from nothing but what they _must_ not

practise. When you state to them the doubtful quality of any action, and

the consequent obligation to desist from it, they reply to you in the

very spirit of Shylock, "they cannot find it in the bond." In short,

they know Christianity only as a system of restraints. She is despoiled

of every liberal and generous principle: she is rendered almost unfit

for the social intercourses of life, and is only suited to the gloomy

walls of that cloister, in which they would confine her. But _true

Christians_ consider themselves not as satisfying some rigorous

creditor, but as discharging a debt of gratitude. Their's is accordingly

not the stinted return of a constrained obedience, but the large and

liberal measure of a voluntary service. This principle, therefore, as

was formerly remarked, and has been recently observed of true Christian

humility, prevents a thousand _practical_ embarrassments, by which they

are continually harassed, who act from a less generous motive; and who

require it to be clearly ascertained to them, that any gratification or

worldly compliance, which may be in question, is beyond the allowed

boundary line of Christian practice[124]. _This_ principle regulates the

true Christian's choice of companions and friends, where he is at

liberty to make an option; _this_ fills him with the desire of promoting

the temporal well-being of all around him, and still more with pity and

love, and anxious solicitude for their spiritual welfare. Indifference

indeed in this respect is one of the surest signs of a low or declining

state in Religion. _This_ animating principle it is, which in the true

Christian's happier hour inspirits his devotions, and causes him to

delight in the worship of God; which fills him with consolation, and

peace, and gladness, and sometimes even enables him "to rejoice with joy

unspeakable and full of glory."

But this world is not his resting place: here, to the very last, he must

be a pilgrim and a stranger; a soldier, whose warfare ends only with

life, ever struggling and combating with the powers of darkness, and

with the temptations of the world around him, and the still more

dangerous hostilities of internal depravity. The perpetual vicissitudes

of this uncertain state, the peculiar trials and difficulties with which

the life of a Christian is chequered, and still more, the painful and

humiliating remembrance of his own infirmities, teach him to look

forward, almost with outstretched neck, to that promised day, when he

shall be completely delivered from the bondage of corruption, and sorrow

and sighing shall flee away. In the anticipation of that blessed period,

and comparing this churlish and turbulent world, where competition, and

envy, and anger, and revenge, so vex and agitate the sons of men, with

that blissful region where Love shall reign without disturbance, and

where all being knit together in bonds of indissoluble friendship, shall

unite in one harmonious song of praise to the Author of their common

happiness, the true Christian triumphs over the fear of death: he longs

to realize these cheering images, and to obtain admission into that

blessed company.--With far more justice than it was originally used, he

may adopt the beautiful exclamation--"O praeclarum illum diem, cum ad

illud divinum animorum concilium coetumque proficiscar, atque ex hac

turba et colluvione discedam!"

What has been now as well as formerly remarked, concerning the habitual

feelings of the real believer, may suggest a reply to an objection

common in the mouths of nominal Christians, that we would deny men the

innocent amusements and gratifications of life; thus causing our

Religion to wear a gloomy forbidding aspect, instead of her true and

natural face of cheerfulness and joy. This is a charge of so serious a

nature, that although it lead into a digression, it may not be improper

to take some notice of it.

In the first place, Religion prohibits no amusement or gratification

which is _really_ innocent. The question, however, of its innocence,

must not be tried by the loose maxims of worldly morality, but by the

spirit of the injunctions of the word of God; and by the indulgence

being conformable or not conformable to the genius of Christianity, and

to the tempers and dispositions of mind enjoined on its professors.

There can be no dispute concerning the true end of recreations. They are

intended to refresh our exhausted bodily or mental powers, and to

restore us, with renewed vigour, to the more serious occupations of

life. Whatever, therefore, fatigues either body or mind, instead of

refreshing them, is not fitted to answer the designed purpose. Whatever

consumes more time, or money, or thought, than it is expedient (I might

say _necessary_) to allot to mere amusement, can hardly be approved by

any one who considers these talents as precious deposits for the

expenditure of which he will have to give account. Whatever directly or

indirectly must be likely to injure the welfare of a fellow creature,

can scarcely be a suitable _recreation_ for a Christian, who is "to love

his neighbour as himself;" or a very consistent _diversion_ for any one,

the business of whose life is to diffuse happiness.

But does a Christian never relax? Let us not so wrong and vilify the

bounty of Providence, as to allow for a moment that the sources of

innocent amusement are so rare, that men must be driven, almost by

constraint, to such as are of a doubtful quality. On the contrary, such

has been the Creator's goodness, that almost every one, both of our

physical and intellectual, and moral faculties (and the same may be said

of the whole creation which we see around us) is not only calculated to

answer the proper end of its being, by its subserviency to some purpose

of solid usefulness, but to be the instrument of administering pleasure.

Not content

With every food of life to nourish man,

Thou mak'st all nature beauty to his eye

And music to his ear.

Our Maker also, in his kindness, has so constructed us, that even mere

vicissitude is grateful and refreshing--a consideration which should

prompt us often to seek, from a prudent _variation_ of _useful

pursuits_, that recreation, for which we are apt to resort to what is

altogether, _unproductive_ and _unfruitful_.

Yet rich and multiplied are the springs of innocent relaxation. The

Christian relaxes in the temperate use of all the gifts of Providence.

Imagination, and taste, and genius, and the beauties of creation, and

the works of art, lie open to him. He relaxes in the feast of reason, in

the intercourses of society, in the sweets of friendship, in the

endearments of love, in the exercise of hope, of confidence, of joy, of

gratitude, of universal good will, of all the benevolent and generous

affections; which, by the gracious ordination of our Creator, while

they disinterestedly intend only happiness to others, are most surely

productive to ourselves of complacency and peace. O! little do they know

of the true measure of enjoyment, who can compare these delightful

complacencies with the frivolous pleasures of dissipation, or the coarse

gratifications of sensuality. It is no wonder, however, that the nominal

Christian should reluctantly give up, one by one, the pleasures of the

world; and look back upon them, when relinquished, with eyes of

wistfulness and regret: because he knows not the sweetness of the

delights with which true Christianity repays those trifling sacrifices,

and is greatly unacquainted with the _nature_ of that pleasantness which

is to be found in the ways of Religion.

It is indeed true, that when any one, who has long been going on in the

gross and unrestrained practice of vice, is checked in his career, and

enters at first on a religious course, he has much to undergo. Fear,

guilt, remorse, shame, and various other passions, struggle and conflict

within him. His appetites are clamorous for their accustomed

gratification, and inveterate habits are scarcely to be denied. He is

weighed down by a load of guilt, and almost overwhelmed by the sense of

his unworthiness. But all this ought in fairness to be charged to the

account of his past sins, and not to that of his present repentance. It

rarely happens, however, that this state of suffering continues very

long. When the mental gloom is the blackest, a ray of heavenly light

occasionally breaks in, and suggests the hope of better days. Even in

this life it commonly holds true, "They that sow in tears shall reap in

joy."

Neither, when we maintain, that the ways of Religion are ways of

pleasantness, do we mean to deny that the Christian's internal state is,

through the whole of his life, a state of discipline and warfare.

Several of the causes which contribute to render it such have been

already pointed out, together with the workings of his mind in relation

to them: but if he has solicitudes and griefs peculiar to himself, he

has "joys also with which a stranger intermeddles not."

"Drink deep," however, "or taste not," is a direction full as applicable

to Religion, if we would find it a source of pleasure, as it is to

knowledge. A little Religion is, it must be confessed, apt to make men

gloomy, as a little knowledge to render them vain: hence the unjust

imputation often brought upon Religion by those, whose degree of

Religion is just sufficient, by condemning their course of conduct, to

render them uneasy: enough merely to impair the sweetness of the

pleasures of sin, and not enough to compensate for the relinquishment of

them by its own peculiar comforts. Thus these men bring up, as it were,

an ill report of that land of promise, which, in truth, abounds with

whatever, in our journey through life, can best refresh and strengthen

us.

We have enumerated some sources of pleasure which men of the world may

understand, and must acknowledge to belong to the true Christian; but

there are others, and those of a still higher class, to which they must

confess themselves strangers. To say nothing of a qualified, I dare not

say an entire, exemption from those distracting passions and corroding

cares, by which he must naturally be harassed, whose treasure is within

the reach of mortal accidents; there is the humble quiet-giving hope of

being reconciled to God, and of enjoying his favour; with that solid

peace of mind, which the world can neither give nor take away, that

results from a firm confidence in the infinite wisdom and goodness of

God, and in the unceasing care and kindness of a generous Saviour: and

there is the persuasion of the truth of the divine assurance, that all

things shall work together for good.

When the pulse indeed beats high, and we are flushed with youth, and

health, and vigour; when all goes on prosperously, and success seems

almost to anticipate our wishes; then we feel not the want of the

consolations of Religion: but when fortune frowns, or friends forsake

us; when sorrow, or sickness, or old age, comes upon us, then it is,

that the superiority of the pleasures of Religion is established over

those of dissipation and vanity, which are ever apt to fly from us when

we are most in want of their aid. There is scarcely a more melancholy

sight to a considerate mind, than that of an old man, who is a stranger

to those only true sources of satisfaction. How affecting, and at the

same time how disgusting, is it to see such an one awkwardly catching at

the pleasures of his younger years, which are now beyond his reach; or

feebly attempting to retain them, while they mock his endeavours and

elude his grasp! To such an one, _gloomily_ indeed does the evening of

life set in! All is sour and cheerless. He can neither look backward

with complacency nor forward with hope: while the aged Christian,

relying on the assured mercy of his Redeemer, can calmly reflect that

his dismission is at hand; that his redemption draweth nigh: while his

strength declines, and his faculties decay, he can quietly repose

himself on the fidelity of God: and at the very entrance of the valley

of the shadow of death, he can lift up an eye, dim, perhaps, and feeble,

yet occasionally sparkling with hope, and confidently looking forward to

the near possession of his heavenly inheritance, "to those joys which

eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart

of man to conceive."

Never were there times which inculcated more forcibly than those in

which we live, the wisdom of seeking a happiness beyond the reach of

human vicissitudes. What striking lessons have _we_ had of the

precarious tenure of all sublunary possessions! Wealth, and power, and

prosperity, how peculiarly transitory and uncertain! But Religion

dispenses her choicest cordials in the seasons of exigence, in poverty,

in exile, in sickness, and in death. The essential superiority of that

support which is derived from Religion is less felt, at least it is less

apparent, when the Christian is in full possession of riches, and

splendour, and rank, and all the gifts of nature and fortune. But when

all these are swept away by the rude hand of time, or the rough blasts

of adversity, the true Christian stands, like the glory of the forest,

erect and vigorous; stripped indeed of his summer foliage, but more than

ever discovering to the observing eye the solid strength of his

substantial texture:

Pondere fixa suo est, nudosque per aera ramos

Attollens, trunco non frondibus efficit umbram.

SECTION II.

_Advice to some who profess their full Assent to the fundamental

Doctrines of the Gospel._

In a former chapter we largely insisted on what may be termed the

fundamental practical error of the bulk of professed Christians in our

days; their either overlooking or misconceiving the peculiar method,

which the Gospel has provided for the renovation of our corrupted

nature, and for the attainment of every Christian grace.

But there are mistakes on the right hand and on the left; and our

general proneness, when we are flying from one extreme to run into an

opposite error, renders it necessary to superadd another admonition. The

generally prevailing error of the present day, indeed, is that

fundamental one which was formerly pointed out. But while we attend, in

the first place, to this; and, on the warrant both of Scripture and

experience, prescribe hearty repentance and lively faith, as the only

root and foundation of all true holiness; we must at the same time guard

against a practical mistake of another kind. They who, with penitent

hearts, have humbled themselves before the cross of Christ; and who,

pleading his merits as their only ground of pardon and acceptance with

God, have resolved henceforth, through the help of his Spirit, to bring

forth the fruits of righteousness, are sometimes apt to conduct

themselves as if they considered their work as now done; or at least as

if this were the whole they had to do, as often as, by falling afresh

into sin, another act of repentance and faith may seem to have become

necessary. There are not a few in our relaxed age, who thus satisfy

themselves with what may be termed _general_ Christianity; who feel

_general_ penitence and humiliation from a sense of their sinfulness _in

general_, and _general_ desires of universal holiness; but who neglect

that vigilant and jealous care, with which they should labour to

extirpate every _particular_ corruption, by studying its nature, its

root, its ramifications, and thus becoming acquainted with its secret

movements, with the means whereby it gains strength, and with the most

effectual methods of resisting it. In like manner, they are far from

striving with persevering alacrity for the acquisition and improvement

of every Christian grace. Nor is it unusual for ministers, who preach

the truths of the Gospel with fidelity, ability, and success, to be

themselves also liable to the charge of dwelling altogether in their

instructions on this _general_ Religion: instead of tracing and laying

open all the secret motions of inward corruption, and instructing their

hearers how best to conduct themselves in every distinct part of the

Christian warfare; how best to strive against each particular vice, and

to cultivate each grace of the Christian character. Hence it is, that in

too many persons, concerning the sincerity of whose general professions

of Religion we should be sorry to entertain a doubt, we yet see little

progress made in the regulation of their tempers, in the improvement of

their time, in the reform of their plan of life, or inability to resist

the temptation to which they are particularly exposed. They will confess

themselves, in general terms, to be "_miserable sinners_:" this is a

tenet of their creed, and they feel even proud in avowing it. They will

occasionally also lament particular failings: but this confession is

sometimes obviously made, in order to draw forth a compliment for the

very opposite virtue: and where this is not the case, it is often not

difficult to detect, under this false guise of contrition, a secret

self-complacency, arising from the manifestations which they have

afforded of their acuteness or candour in discovering the infirmity in

question, or of their frankness or humility in acknowledging it. This

will scarcely seem an illiberal suspicion to any one, who either watches

the workings of his own heart, or who observes, that the faults

confessed in these instances are very seldom those, with which the

person is most clearly and strongly chargeable.

_We must plainly warn these men_, and the consideration is seriously

pressed on their instructors also, _that they are in danger of deceiving

themselves. Let them beware lest they be nominal Christians of another

sort._ These persons require to be reminded, that there is no _short

compendious method of holiness_: but that it must be the business of

their whole lives to grow in grace, and continually adding one virtue to

another, as far as may be, "to go on towards perfection." "He only that

doeth righteousness is righteous." Unless "they bring forth the fruits

of the Spirit," they can have no sufficient evidence that they have

received that "Spirit of Christ, without which they are none of his."

But where, on the whole, our unwillingness to pass an unfavourable

judgment may lead us to indulge a hope, that "the root of the matter is

found in them;" yet we must at least declare to them, that instead of

adorning the doctrine of Christ, they disparage and discredit it. The

world sees not their secret humiliation, not the exercises of their

closets, but it is acute in discerning practical weaknesses: and if it

observe that they have the same eagerness in the pursuit of wealth or

ambition, the same vain taste for ostentation and display, the same

ungoverned tempers, which are found in the generality of mankind; it

will treat with contempt their pretences to superior sanctity and

indifference to worldly things, and will be hardened in its prejudices

against the only mode, which God has provided for our escaping the wrath

to come, and obtaining eternal happiness.

Let him then, who would be indeed a Christian, watch over his ways and

over his heart with unceasing circumspection. Let him endeavour to

learn, both from men and books, particularly from the lives of eminent

Christians[125], what methods have been actually found most effectual

for the conquest of every particular vice, and for improvement in every

branch of holiness. Thus studying his own character, and observing the

most secret workings of his own mind, and of our common nature; the

knowledge which he will acquire of the human heart in general, and

especially of his own, will be of the highest utility, in enabling him

to avoid or to guard against the occasions of evil: and it will also

tend, above all things, to the growth of humility, and to the

maintenance of that sobriety of spirit and tenderness of conscience,

which are eminently characteristic of the true Christian. It is by this

unceasing diligence, as the Apostle declares, that the servants of

Christ must make their calling sure. Their labour will not be thrown

away; for "an entrance shall" at length "be ministered unto them

abundantly, into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus

Christ."

SECT. III.

_Brief Observations addressed to Sceptics and Unitarians._

There is another class of men, an increasing class, it is to be feared,

in this country, that of absolute unbelievers, with which this little

work has properly no concern: but may the writer, sincerely pitying

their melancholy state, be permitted to ask them one plain question? If

Christianity be not in their estimation true, yet is there not at least

a presumption in its favour, sufficient to entitle it to a serious

examination; from its having been embraced, and that not blindly and

implicitly, but upon full inquiry and deep consideration, by Bacon, and

Milton, and Locke, and Newton, and much the greater part of those, who,

by the reach of their understandings, or the extent of their knowledge,

and by the freedom too of their minds, and their daring to combat

existing prejudices, have called forth the respect and admiration of

mankind? It might be deemed scarcely fair to insist on Churchmen, though

some of them are among the greatest names this country has ever known.

Can the sceptic in general say with truth, that he has either prosecuted

an examination into the evidences of Revelation at all, or at least with

a seriousness and diligence in any degree proportioned to the importance

of the subject? The fact is, and it is a fact which redounds to the

honour of Christianity, that infidelity is not the result of sober

inquiry and deliberate preference. It is rather the slow production of a

careless and irreligious life, operating together with prejudices and

erroneous conceptions, concerning the nature of the leading doctrines

and fundamental tenets of Christianity.

Take the case of young men of condition, bred up by what we have termed

nominal Christians. When children, they are carried to church, and

thence they become acquainted with such parts of Scripture as are

contained in our public service. If their parents preserve still more of

the customs of better times, they are taught their Catechism, and

furnished with a little farther religious knowledge. After a while, they

go from under the eyes of their parents; they enter into the world, and

move forward in the path of life, whatever it may be, which has been

assigned to them. They yield to the temptations which assail them, and

become, more or less, dissipated and licentious. At least they neglect

to look into their Bible; they do not enlarge the sphere of their

religious acquisitions; they do not even endeavour, by reflection and

study, to turn into what may deserve the name of knowledge and rational

conviction, the opinions which, in their childhood, they had taken on

trust.

They travel, perhaps, into foreign countries; a proceeding which

naturally tends to weaken their nursery, prejudice in favour of the

Religion in which they were bred, and by removing them from all means of

public worship, to relax their practical habits of Religion. They return

home, and commonly are either hurried round in the vortex of

dissipation, or engage with the ardour of youthful minds in some public

or professional pursuit. If they read or hear any thing about

Christianity, it is commonly only about those tenets which are subjects

of controversy: and what reaches their ears of the Bible, from their

occasional attendance at church; though it may sometimes impress them

with an idea of the purity of Christian morality, contains much which,

coming thus detached, perplexes and offends them, and suggests various

doubts and startling objections, which a farther acquaintance with the

Scripture would remove. Thus growing more and more to know Christianity

only by the difficulties it contains; sometimes tempted by the ambition

of shewing themselves superior to vulgar prejudice, and always prompted

by the natural pride of the human heart to cast off their subjection to

dogmas imposed on them; disgusted, perhaps, by the immoral lives of some

professed Christians, by the weaknesses and absurdities of others, and

by what they observe to be the implicit belief of numbers, whom they see

and know to be equally ignorant with themselves, many doubts and

suspicions of greater or less extent spring up within them. These doubts

enter into the mind at first almost imperceptibly: they exist only as

vague indistinct surmises, and by no means take the precise shape or

the substance of a formed opinion. At first, probably, they even offend

and startle by their intrusion: but by degrees the unpleasant sensations

which they once excited wear off: the mind grows more familiar with

them. A confused sense (for such it is, rather than a formed idea) of

its being desirable that their doubts should prove well founded, and of

the comfort and enlargement which would be afforded by that proof, lends

them much secret aid. The impression becomes deeper; not in consequence

of being reinforced by fresh arguments, but merely by dint of having

longer rested in the mind; and as they increase in force, they creep on

and extend themselves. At length they diffuse themselves over the whole

of Religion, and possess the mind in undisturbed occupancy.

It is by no means meant that this is universally the process. But,

speaking generally, this might be termed, perhaps not unjustly, the

_natural history_ of scepticism. It approves itself to the experience of

those who have with any care watched the progress of infidelity in

persons around them; and it is confirmed by the written lives of some of

the most eminent unbelievers. It is curious to read their own accounts

of themselves, the rather as they accord so exactly with the result of

our own observation.--We find that they once perhaps gave a sort of

implicit hereditary assent to the truth of Christianity, and were what,

by a mischievous perversion of language, the world denominates

_believers_. How were they then awakened from their sleep of ignorance?

At what moment did the light of truth beam in upon them, and dissipate

the darkness in which they had been involved? The period of their

infidelity is marked by no such determinate boundary. Reason, and

thought, and inquiry had little or nothing to do with it. Having for

many years lived careless and irreligious lives, and associated with

companions equally careless and irreligious; not by force of study and

reflection, but rather by the lapse of time, they at length attained to

their infidel maturity. It is worthy of remark, that where any are

reclaimed from infidelity, it is generally by a process much more

rational than that which has been here described. Something awakens them

to reflection. They examine, they consider, and at length yield their

assent to Christianity on what they deem sufficient grounds.

From the account here given, it appears plainly that infidelity is

generally the offspring of prejudice, and that its success is mainly to

be ascribed to the depravity of the moral character. This fact is

confirmed by the undeniable truth, that in _societies_, which consist of

individuals, infidelity is the natural fruit, not so much of a studious

and disputatious, as of a dissipated and vicious age. It diffuses itself

in proportion as the general morals decline; and it is embraced with

less apprehension, when every infidel is kept in spirits, by seeing many

around him who are sharing fortunes with himself.

To any fair mind this consideration alone might be offered, as

suggesting a strong argument against infidelity, and in favour of

Revelation. And the friends of Christianity might justly retort the

charge, which their opponents often urge with no little affectation of

superior wisdom; that we implicitly surrender ourselves to the influence

of prejudice, instead of examining dispassionately the ground of our

faith, and yielding our assent only according to the degree of evidence.

In our own days, when it is but too clear that infidelity increases, it

is not in consequence of the reasonings of the infidel writers having

been much studied, but from the progress of luxury, and the decay of

morals: and, so far as this increase may be traced at all to the works

of sceptical writers; it has been produced, not by argument and

discussion, but by sarcasms and points of wit, which have operated on

weak minds, or on nominal Christians, by bringing gradually into

contempt, opinions which, in their case, had only rested on the basis of

blind respect and the prejudices of education. It may therefore be laid

down as an axiom, that _infidelity is in general a disease of the heart

more than of the understanding_. If Revelation were assailed only by

reason and argument, it would have little to fear. The literary opposers

of Christianity, from Herbert to Hume, have been seldom read. They made

some stir in their day: during their span of existence they were noisy

and noxious; but like the locusts of the east, which for a while obscure

the air, and destroy the verdure, they were soon swept away and

forgotten. Their very names would be scarcely found, if Leland had not

preserved them from oblivion.

The account which has been given, of the secret, but grand, source of

infidelity, may perhaps justly be extended, as being not seldom true in

the case of those who deny the fundamental doctrines of the Gospel.

In the course which we lately traced from nominal orthodoxy to absolute

infidelity, Unitarianism[126] is indeed, a sort of half-way house, if

the expression may be pardoned; a stage on the journey, where sometimes

a person indeed finally stops, but where, not unfrequently, he only

pauses for a while, and then pursues his progress.

The Unitarian teachers by no means profess to absolve their followers

from the unbending strictness of Christian morality. They prescribe the

predominant love of God, and an habitual spirit of devotion: but it is

an unquestionable fact; a fact which they themselves almost admit, that

this class of religionists is not in general distinguished for superior

purity of life; and still less for that frame of mind, which, by the

injunction "to be spiritually, not carnally, minded," the word of God

prescribes to us, as one of the surest tests of our experiencing the

vital power of Christianity. On the contrary, in point of fact,

_Unitarianism_ seems to be resorted to, not merely by those who are

disgusted with the peculiar doctrines of Christianity; but by those also

who are seeking a refuge from the strictness of her practical precepts;

and who, more particularly, would escape from the obligation which she

imposes on her adherents, rather to incur the dreaded charge of

singularity, than fall in with the declining manners of a dissipated

age.

Unitarianism, where it may be supposed to proceed from the understanding

rather than from the heart, is not unfrequently produced by a confused

idea of the difficulties, or, as they are termed, the impossibilities

which orthodox Christianity is supposed to involve. It is not our

intention to enter into the controversy:[127] but it may not be improper

to make one remark as a guard to persons in whose way the arguments of

the Unitarians may be likely to fall; namely, that one great advantage

possessed by Deists, and perhaps in a still greater degree by

Unitarians, in their warfare with the Christian system, results from the

very circumstances of their being the assailants. They urge what they

state to be powerful arguments against the truth of the fundamental

doctrines of Christianity, and then call upon men to abandon them as

posts no longer tenable. But they, who are disposed to yield to this

assault, should call to mind, that it has pleased God so to establish

the constitution of all things, that perplexing difficulties and

plausible objections may be adduced against the most established truths;

such, for instance, as the being of a God, and many others both physical

and moral. In all cases, therefore, it becomes us, not on a partial view

to reject any proposition, because it is attended with difficulties; but

to compare the difficulties which it involves, with those which attend

the alternative proposition which must be embraced on its rejection. We

should put to the proof the alternative proposition in its turn, and see

whether it be not still less tenable than that which we are summoned to

abandon. In short, we should examine circumspectly on all sides; and

abide by that opinion which, on carefully balancing all considerations,

appears fairly entitled to our preference. Experience, however, will

have convinced the attentive observer of those around him, that it has

been for want of adverting to this just and obvious principle, that the

Unitarians in particular have gained most of their proselytes from the

Church, so far as argument has contributed to their success. If the

Unitarians, or even the Deists, were considered in their turn as masters

of the field; and were in their turn attacked, both by arguments tending

to disprove their system directly, and to disprove it indirectly, by

shewing the high probability of the truth of Christianity, and of its

leading and peculiar doctrines, it is most likely that they would soon

appear wholly unable to keep their ground. In short, reasoning fairly,

there is no medium between absolute _Pyrrhonism_ and true Christianity:

and if we reject the latter on account of its difficulties, we shall be

still more loudly called upon to reject every other system which has

been offered to the acceptance of mankind. This consideration might,

perhaps, with advantage be more attended to than it has been, by those

who take upon them to vindicate the truth of our holy religion: as many,

who from inconsideration, or any other cause, are disposed to give up

the great fundamentals of Christianity, would be startled by the idea,

that on the same principle on which they did this, they must give up the

hope of finding any rest for the sole of their foot on any ground of

Religion, and not stop short of unqualified Atheism.

Besides the class of those who professedly reject revelation, there is

another, and that also, it is to be feared, an increasing one, which may

be called the class of half-unbelievers, who are to be found in various

degrees of approximation to a state of absolute infidelity. The system,

if it deserve the name, of these men, is grossly irrational. Hearing

many who assert and many who deny the truth of Christianity, and not

reflecting seriously enough to consider that it must be either true or

false, they take up a strange sort of middle opinion of its qualified

truth. They conceive that there must be something in it, though by no

means to the extent to which it is pushed by orthodox Christians. They

grant the reality of future punishment, and even that they themselves

cannot altogether expect to escape it; yet, "they trust it will not go

so hard with them as the churchmen state:" and, as was formerly hinted,

though disbelieving almost every material doctrine which Christianity

contains; yet, even in their own minds, they by no means conceive

themselves to be inlisted under the banners of infidelity, or to have

much cause for any great apprehension lest Christianity should prove

true.

But let these men be reminded, that there is no middle way. If they can

be prevailed on to look into their Bible, and do not make up their minds

absolutely to reject its authority; they must admit that there is no

ground whatever for this vain hope, which they suffer themselves to

indulge, of escaping but with a slight measure of punishment. Nor let

them think their guilt inconsiderable. Is it not grossly criminal to

trifle with the long-suffering of God, to despise alike his invitations

and his threatenings, and the offer of his Spirit of grace, and the

precious blood of the Redeemer? Far different is the Scripture estimate;

"How shall we escape if we neglect so great salvation?" "It shall be

more tolerable for Sodom and Gomorrah, in the day of judgment," than for

them, who voluntarily shut their eyes against that full light, which the

bounty of Heaven has poured out upon them. These half-unbelievers are

even more reprehensible than downright sceptics, for remaining in this

state of careless uncertainty, without endeavouring to ascertain the

truth or falsehood of revelation. The probability which they admit, that

it may be true, imposes on them an additional and an undeniable

obligation to inquiry. But both to them and to decided sceptics it must

be plainly declared, that they are in these days less excusable than

ever, for not looking into the grounds and proofs on which is rested the

truth of Christianity; for never before were these proofs so _plainly,

and at so easy a rate_, offered to the consideration of mankind. Through

the bounty of Providence, the more widely spreading poison of infidelity

has in our days been met with more numerous and more powerful antidotes.

One of these has been already pointed out: and it should be matter of

farther gratitude to every real Christian, that in the very place on

which modern infidelity had displayed the standard of victory, a warrior

in the service of Religion, a man of the most acute discernment and

profound research, has been raised up by Providence to quell their

triumph[128]. He was soon taken from us; but happily for him and for

ourselves, not till he had announced, that, like the Magi of old, he had

seen the star of Christ in the East, and had fallen down and worshipped

him. Another should be mentioned with honour, who is pursuing the track

which that great man had pointed out[129]. Henceforth let all objectors

against Christianity, on the ground of its being disproved by the

oriental records, be put to silence. The strength of their cause

consisted in their ignorance, and in our own, of oriental learning. They

availed themselves for a while of our being in a state of darkness; but

the light of day has at length broken in and exposed to deserved

contempt their superficial speculations.

The infatuation of these unbelievers upon trust would be less striking,

if they were able altogether to decline Christianity; and were at

liberty to relinquish their pretensions to its rewards, on condition of

being exempted from its punishments. But that is not the case; they must

stand the risk of the encounter, and their eternal happiness or misery

is suspended upon the issue[130]. What must be the emotions of these

men, on first opening their eyes in the world of spirits, and being

convinced, too late, of the awful reality of their impending ruin? May

the mercy and the power of God awaken them from their desperate slumber,

while life is yet spared, and there is yet space for repentance!

SECTION IV.

_Advice suggested by the state of the times to true Christians._

To those, who really deserve the appellation of true Christians, much

has been said incidentally in the course of the present work. It has

been maintained, and the proposition will not be disputed by any sound

or experienced politician, that they are always most important members

of the community. But we may boldly assert, that there never was a

period wherein, more justly than in the present, this could be affirmed

of them; whether the situation, in all its circumstances, of our own

country be attentively considered, or the general state of society in

Europe. Let them on their part seriously weigh the important station

which they fill, and the various duties which it now peculiarly enforces

on them. If we consult the most intelligent accounts of foreign

countries, which have been recently published, and compare them with the

reports of former travellers; we must be convinced, that Religion and

the standard of morals are every where declining, abroad even more

rapidly than in our own country. But still, the progress of irreligion,

and the decay of morals at home, are such as to alarm every considerate

mind, and to forebode the worst consequences, unless some remedy can be

applied to the growing evil. We can depend only upon true _Christians_

for effecting, in any degree, this important service. Their system, as

was formerly stated, is that of our national church: and in proportion,

therefore, as their system prevails, or as it increases in respect and

estimation, from the manifest good conduct of its followers; in that

very proportion the church is strengthened in the foundations, on which

alone it can be much longer supported, the esteem and attachment of its

members, and of the nation at large. Zeal is required in the cause of

Religion; they only can feel it. The charge of singularity must be

incurred; they only will dare to encounter it. Uniformity of conduct,

and perseverance in exertion, will be requisite; among no others can we

look for those qualities.

Let true Christians then, with becoming earnestness, strive in all

things to recommend their profession, and to put to silence the vain

scoffs of ignorant objectors. Let them boldly assert the cause of Christ

in an age when so many, who bear the name of Christians, are ashamed of

Him: and let them consider as devolved on Them the important duty of

suspending for a while the fall of their country, and, perhaps, of

performing a still more extensive service to society at large; not by

busy interference in politics, in which it cannot but be confessed there

is much uncertainty; but rather by that sure and radical benefit of

restoring the influence of Religion, and of raising the standard of

morality.

Let them be active, useful, generous towards others; manifestly moderate

and self-denying in themselves. Let them be ashamed of idleness, as

they would be of the most acknowledged sin. When Providence blesses them

with affluence, let them withdraw from the competition of vanity; and,

without sordidness or absurdity, shew by their modest demeanour, and by

their retiring from display, that, without affecting singularity, they

are not slaves to fashion; that they consider it as their duty to set an

example of moderation and sobriety, and to reserve for nobler and more

disinterested purposes, that money, which others selfishly waste in

parade, and dress, and equipage. Let them evince, in short, a manifest

moderation in all temporal things; as becomes those whose affections are

set on higher objects than any which this world affords, and who

possess, within their own bosoms, a fund of satisfaction and comfort,

which the world seeks in vanity and dissipation. Let them cultivate a

catholic spirit of universal good will, and of amicable fellowship

towards all those, of whatever sect or denomination, who, differing from

them in non-essentials, agree with them in the grand fundamentals of

Religion. Let them countenance men of real piety wherever they are

found; and encourage in others every attempt to repress the progress of

vice, and to revive and diffuse the influence of Religion and virtue.

Let their earnest prayers be constantly offered, that such endeavours

may be successful, and that the abused long-suffering of God may still

continue to us the invaluable privilege of vital Christianity.

Let them pray continually for their country in this season of national

difficulty. We bear upon us but too plainly the marks of a declining

empire. Who can say but that the Governor of the universe, who declares

himself to be a God who hears the prayers of his servants, may, in

answer to their intercessions, for a while avert our ruin, and continue

to us the fulness of those temporal blessings, which in such abundant

measure we have hitherto enjoyed[131]. Men of the world, indeed, however

they may admit the natural operation of natural causes, and may

therefore confess the effects of Religion and morality in promoting the

well being of the community; may yet, according to their humour, with a

smile of complacent pity, or a sneer of supercilious contempt, read of

the service which real Christians may render to their country, by

conciliating the favour and calling down the blessing of Providence. It

may appear in their eyes an instance of the same superstitious weakness,

as that which prompts the terrified inhabitant of Sicily to bring for

the image of his tutelar saint, in order to stop the destructive ravages

of AEtna. We are, however, sure, if we believe the Scripture, that God

will be disposed to favour the nation to which his servants belong; and

that, in fact, such as They, have often been the unknown and unhonoured

instruments of drawing down on their country the blessings of safety and

prosperity.

But it would be an instance in myself of that very false shame which I

have condemned in others, if I were not boldly to avow my firm

persuasion, that _to the decline of Religion and morality our national

difficulties must both directly and indirectly be chiefly ascribed; and

that my only solid hopes for the well-being of my country depend not so

much on her fleets and armies, not so much on the wisdom of her rulers,

or the spirit of her people, as on the persuasion that she still

contains many, who, in a degenerate age, love and obey the Gospel of

Christ; on the humble trust that the intercession of these may still be

prevalent, that for the sake of these, Heaven may still look upon us

with an eye of favour._

Let the prayers of the Christian reader be also offered up for the

success of this feeble endeavour in the service of true Religion. God

can give effect to the weakest effort; and the writer will feel himself

too much honoured, if by that which he has now been making, but a single

fellow creature should be awakened from a false security, or a single

Christian, who deserves the name, be animated to more extensive

usefulness. He may seem to have assumed to himself a task which he was

ill qualified to execute. He fears he may be reproached with arrogance

and presumption for taking upon him the office of a teacher. Yet, as he

formerly suggested, it cannot be denied, that it belongs to his public

situation to investigate the state of the national Religion and morals;

and that it is the part of a real patriot to endeavour to retard their

decline, and promote their revival. But if the office, in which he has

been engaged, were less intimately connected with the duties of his

particular station, the candid and the liberal mind would not be

indisposed to pardon him. Let him be allowed to offer in his excuse a

desire not only to discharge a duty to his country, but to acquit

himself of what he deems a solemn and indispensable obligation to his

acquaintance and his friends. Let him allege the unaffected solicitude

which he feels for the welfare of his fellow creatures. Let him urge the

fond wish he gladly would encourage; that, while, in so large a part of

Europe, a false philosophy having been preferred before the lessons of

revelation, Infidelity has lifted up her head without shame, and walked

abroad boldly and in the face of day; while the practical consequences

are such as might be expected, and licentiousness and vice prevail

without restraint: here at least there might be a sanctuary, a land of

Religion and piety, where the blessings of Christianity might be still

enjoyed, where the name of the Redeemer might still be honoured; where

mankind might be able to see what is, in truth, the Religion of Jesus,

and what are its blessed effects; and whence, if the mercy of God should

so ordain it, the means of religious instruction and consolation might

be again extended to surrounding countries and to the world at large.

FINIS.