whom he had long cherished a most ardent attachment, he had imbibed
some vague sceptical opinions against religion. Her dying farewell,
however, both astonished and confounded him, particularly the last
words which she addressed to him:--"We now part, but I hope not
for ever. Death, which is now removing me, may soon call for you;
and then I hope you will find that consolation in the death of a
despised Saviour, which it has pleased God, very unexpectedly and
undeservedly, to give to me." "I never," he remarked, "heard her say
anything like this before. She was now entering the dark unknown
world; but it appears that she derived consolation from the death of
Jesus Christ. How is this? said I, as I withdrew from the chamber
of death; and how can it be? I have said thousands of times since.
However, what I saw and heard on that awfully appalling occasion
left an indelible conviction on my mind, that there is a something
in religion suited to humanity at the most momentous period of its
history. But what is that something? I said to myself. Is it a
hidden mystery which the great teacher death alone can explain; or
is it possible to get the mystery explained before death comes? This
is the emphatic question I wish you to solve, as my happiness both
in this world and the next depends on its solution."
In token of his sincerity, he told me that he had altogether
withdrawn from the gay world; regularly attended his parish church,
and had taken the sacrament several times. He now read the Bible,
and other devotional books, in preference to novels and periodicals;
and went through a regular form of private prayer, both morning
and evening. He closed by saying:--"But, like a man surrounded by
a thick mist when crossing some wild moor, I know not whether I am
going right or wrong--I can obtain no satisfaction."
I was about to reply to this communication, when our arrival at
Aston, and the appearance of Miss Ryder, to whom I was introduced by
her brother, put a stop to further conversation on the subject for
the present. We now entered the house, and while tea was preparing,
Mr. Ryder proposed that we should take a turn round the garden. In
passing along, my eye caught sight of a beautiful figure of Ceres,
resting on a pedestal. I remarked, that it was by a very slow and
painstaking process that things of real excellence were brought to
perfection.
"Yes," replied Mr. Ryder; "a few months ago that beautiful figure
was a rough, shapeless stone. I have often thought, when standing
and admiring it, what an eye and what a taste its sculptor must
possess! But after all, it wants life to give the full expression of
beauty."
"It stands as an emblematical figure."
"Yes, Sir; of the productive power of nature."
"And, Sir, of something else."
"Of what?"
"Of the man who has the form of godliness, but who has never felt
its regenerating and life-giving power."
He paused, looked grave, but spoke not. After the lapse of a few
moments he moved on in silence, as though my words had excited a new
train of thought in his mind. At length he said:--"I do not clearly
understand what you mean by the expression--the regenerating and
life--giving power of godliness."
"I mean the regenerating power of the Divine Spirit, creating anew
the human soul, and infusing into it spiritual life. 'You,' says the
apostle, when addressing the members of the church at Ephesus, 'hath
he quickened, who were dead in trespasses and sins' (Eph. ii. 1)."
"But is man, at any period of his moral history, living in a state
of death? Such a supposition appears to me to be paradoxical."
"Before the regenerating power of the Divine Spirit acts on the
soul of man, he lives in a state of death, in two senses. We say,
for example, of the culprit who is condemned to die, that he is a
dead man. His life is not his own; it is forfeited to the claims
of justice. And thus, while living in an unrenewed and unpardoned
state, we are legally dead; our life is forfeited to the claims of
Divine justice; and we are exposed to the penalty of the violated
law of God."
"And what is that penalty?"
"Condemnation, including in its infliction the forfeiture of the
favour of God; mental disquietude, remorse, and dread of death,
exclusion from a state of happiness, on passing into the eternal
world; and banishment to hell, in despair, for ever. For it is
written--'Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things
which are written in the book of the law to do them' (Gal. iii. 10)."
He again moved on in silence; and then suddenly stopping, and
resting his eye for a few moments on the ground, he replied, under
great excitement:--"This, Sir, is a fearful condition of existence.
It is appalling. It chills my blood to think of it. Then my present
restlessness and disquietude of soul are the lighter inflictions of
this tremendous penalty--the premonitions of the coming storm of
God's righteous displeasure."
"Yes, Sir; and they are given in mercy and in love."
"You surprise me. What! does mercy ever employ such terrific
forerunners to announce her coming? If so, for what purpose?"
"To rouse man, while living in a state of false security, to an
apprehension of his guilt, and consequent danger. They are, in fact,
warning voices, warning man to flee from the wrath to come, to
repent of his sins, and to make him feel the absolute necessity of a
Divine interposition to rescue him from the peril of his condition,
that he may 'seek the Lord while he may be found, and call upon him
while he is near' (Isa. lv. 6)."
We now entered a tastefully constructed grotto, covered with ivy,
situated at the upper extremity of the garden. Here we had an
enchanting prospect of the surrounding country, and stood gazing on
it for a while in silence, when Mr. Ryder remarked--"This, Sir, is a
beautiful world."
"Yes, Sir," I replied; "and it would have been a happy world, if sin
had not entered and defiled it, and thus marred our happiness. The
beasts of the field and the birds of the air appear to have escaped
its withering influence. They are happy. It is only man, the noblest
specimen of the Divine workmanship, who is groaning and pining away
in mournful sadness, under its polluting and destroying power."
"To me, Sir, it appears surprising that the Deity should have
permitted sin to enter this province of his vast dominions, and
allow it to become the active agent of so much crime and misery,
when he could so easily have prevented it, if he had chosen."
"I am not surprised by your remarks, for unquestionably the
dispensation under which we are living is awfully mysterious; but
still, notwithstanding the impenetrable darkness which envelopes
certain parts of the Divine procedure, other parts are plain
and intelligible, obviously conducive to our present and final
happiness. Hence, if we act wisely, we shall turn our attention
from what we _cannot_ know, to what we _may_ know-from concealed
reasons and causes, to revealed facts. Instead, then, of perplexing
ourselves about the origin of evil, we shall sit at the feet of
Jesus, and he will tell us what God has done to repair the injury
of the fall--'For God so loved the world, that he gave his only
begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but
have everlasting life' (John iii. 16). This, Sir, is plain, and this
is intelligible; and we are assured by the Son of God himself, that
if we believe in him we shall not perish, but have everlasting life."
"Your remarks, Sir, interest me. They illumine the darkness in which
my own thoughts have been long revolving in shapeless con fusion.
I begin to perceive that my salvation is possible. You referred
just now to another sense in which man is dead, in addition to the
forfeiture of his life, by his violations of the law of God; will
you explain what that other state of death is?"
Our conversation was here interrupted by a summons to tea. Mr. Ryder
was now profoundly silent on the questions which had engrossed our
attention, leaving an impression on my mind that his sister had
no sympathy with his spiritual anxieties and depression. She was
about twenty-five years of age, of very pleasing manners, and an
apparently amiable disposition--neither obtrusive nor reserved;
sprightly, and somewhat of a facetious turn. When looking at
and listening to her, the words which our Lord addressed to the
accomplished young ruler of Judea involuntarily occurred to me--"One
thing thou lackest." Her brother now proposed another stroll in the
garden, which was prevented by the arrival of some visitors, and the
rest of the evening passed away without any recurrence to our former
topic of conversation. On taking leave, Mr. Ryder made me promise
that I would soon repeat my visit, which I accordingly did in the
course of the ensuing week.
On this occasion I again met Mr. Ryder, as before, taking an
evening stroll, and we walked to Aston together. On passing an old
dilapidated mansion, we saw its proprietor standing in the porch, a
nondescript both in appearance and character. "That, Sir," said Mr.
Ryder, "is the most singular man I ever knew; he is very wealthy,
and leads a very selfish and sensual life; he loves nothing but
himself, his dogs, and his gun. He has sympathy for a dog when in
pain, but none for a human being. His dogs are fed sumptuously, and
taken the greatest care of, but he has never been known to give
anything in charity to his own species. He shuns all intercourse
with his fellow-men, and is, in fact, a perfect misanthrope--a
being without a heart. Not long ago, his father, who lives in
extreme poverty in the adjoining county, came to see him, but he
peremptorily ordered him away without giving him bit or drop."
"This man," I replied, "loving nothing but himself, his dog, and his
gun, not even his own father, is happily a very rare case, but it is
one which is both illustrative and suggestive. He is a living emblem
of the unregenerate man; who is a selfish being, loving nothing but
what ministers to his own sensual gratifications. He has no heart
to revere and love his heavenly Father, and is consequently unfit
for heaven, and unfit to live amongst, and associate with the pure
and happy spirits who dwell there. If he were taken to heaven in his
present moral and spiritual condition, he would appear as strange a
being amongst them, as this man does amongst you--shunning all, for
want of congeniality of taste and disposition; and shunned by all
as odious and repulsive; his expulsion would be an act of necessity,
both in relation to himself and to others. Hence it is obvious from
the nature of the case, as well as from the Word of God, that before
an unregenerate man is meet for heaven, the sentence of condemnation
which is recorded against him must, by an act of free grace, be
repealed, and then all his sins are forgiven. In addition to this,
he must be renewed in the spirit of his mind, and a spiritual life
must be breathed into him by the power of the Divine Spirit."
"I have, Sir, I think, a clear apprehension of what you mean by an
act of grace in repealing the sentence of condemnation recorded
against us for the sins we commit; but you say, that in addition to
this we need the infusion into our mind of a new life, which you
call a spiritual life. But if we are pardoned by an act of free
grace, will not this secure to us an admission into heaven, without
that additional operation to which you refer, and of which I can
form no clear conception?"
"The exercise of free grace in pardoning a sinner is merely
exempting him from a liability to punishment in this world,
and in the world to come; but if he remain unrenewed, he will
be the same in his moral principles, in his predilections, and
antipathies, after he is pardoned, as he was while under a sentence
of condemnation. He will feel no filial reverence for God; the love
of Christ will not glow in his soul; he will possess no aptitude to
hold fellowship with the pure spirits of the celestial world; nor
can he live and move amongst them with dignity and ease, as one of
their order."
"I perceive, Sir, the drift of your meaning; but yet it is enveloped
in mysticism. One moment I seem to have it; but it is gone ere I can
lay hold of it; it flits before me, and vanishes. However, there is
one question which I shall feel obliged by you replying to: By what
process can I originate, or get originated, this new spiritual life
into my soul; and how must I set about it?"
"You cannot, Sir, originate it. As you cannot pardon yourself,
neither can you renew yourself."
This remark fell with terrible force on his spirit, and cast a deep
gloom on his countenance. He looked fearfully anxious, like a man
who, on gaining an eminence apparently beyond the reach of the tide,
sees his connection with the shore cut off by the unexpected rising
of the waters.
"I am, then, in a hopeless condition! It appears, Sir, from your
statement, that I came into existence in a state of spiritual death,
and consequent condemnation, without possessing any self-quickening
power. This, if true, forces upon me the conviction that I must look
upon myself as a poor unfortunate being, involved in a tremendous
calamity, which I could not avoid, and from which I cannot extricate
myself. Why, Sir, I am in a state of hopeless and irrecoverable
misery."
"No, Sir, neither irrecoverable nor hopeless; for God, who is rich
in mercy to pardon, is also rich in mercy to renew and quicken you
into newness of life."
"But will He do it?"
"Yes, if you are willing to have it done."
"Willing! Sir; I am anxious to be saved, and saved on any terms,
and by any process. I am willing to submit to any privations, any
self-humiliation, any physical or mental tortures, to obtain the
hope of salvation."
"One of the principles of God's wise and gracious administration
is embodied in the following absolute promise made to his ancient
people, accompanied by its contingent condition:--'A new heart also
will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you: and I will
take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you
an heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause
you to walk in my statutes, and ye shall keep my judgments, and do
them. Thus saith the Lord God; I will yet for this be enquired of by
the house of Israel, to do it for them; I will increase them with
men like a flock' (Ezek. xxxvi. 26, 27, 37). A new spirit and a new
heart is what you need, and now want; this God alone can give, and
for this you must pray with great earnestness."
We now arrived at Aston, where, after having tea, we sauntered
out as before into the garden, and entered the grotto to admire
the view. Here Mr. Ryder resumed the thread of our conversation
by saying:--"Permit me to ask you a question, which I feel to be
important. When the Divine Spirit breathes this spiritual life into
the soul of a man who has been living in a state of spiritual death,
is he conscious of the change produced?"
"In some rare instances, I believe that a man does feel the action
of the renewing and life-giving power of the Divine Spirit, at the
very instant of time he is passing from death to life, though he may
not then know by whom the spiritual operation is performed."
"But, Sir, as it is only rarely that such a sudden transition
from death to life takes place, by what signs are we to determine
its actual occurrence, when it is the result of a more lengthened
process?"
"I believe the infusion of spiritual life in the soul of man is
always an instantaneous act, though a long time may and often does
elapse before he actually knows that he is quickened into newness
of life. And in all cases the signs by which we may decide as
to its actual occurrence, are very similar to those by which we
determine the reality of our physical existence. For example, I am
conscious that I am alive, because I breathe, feel, see, and hear,
which I could not do if I were not alive. By a similar criterion
we arrive at a satisfactory belief of the reality of our spiritual
life. I am made alive from the dead; and as a proof of it, I can
utter the voice of prayer and of praise. I _feel_ sin to be a
loathsome burden, offensive to my taste; I can _see_ the glory of
Christ displayed in his life, in his sufferings, and in his death.
I can _hear_ the voice of the Lord speaking to me in his promises,
to comfort and strengthen me; and in his precepts, commanding my
subjection and resignation to his sovereign will; I can _walk_ in
the way of his commandments, and feel obedience to be a source of
gratitude and delight. I often _hunger_ and _thirst_ after a more
perfect conformity to his righteousness; and now my meditations on
God are sweet and delightful; and I can say--'Whom have I in heaven
but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee'
(Psal. lxxiii. 25). These are the unmistakeable signs of spiritual
life."
"You certainly, Sir, have supplied me with ample materials for
thinking and reflection, and made an opening for my more easy
understanding of the Bible. But there is one question of a more
direct personal nature, which I wish to propose, and it is
this--What am I to do? I am restless and unhappy. I want relief.
Where, and how, can I obtain it? What positive thing am I to do,
or suffer, to obtain it? That is the great question with me _now_.
I perceive that the ulterior design of the Christian scheme of
revelation is to restore man to the moral state from which he is
fallen; but I have now to do with the present time, and the present
state of my mind. What am I to do, or suffer, to gain peace of mind,
and get that new spiritual life, of which you have been speaking?"
"I am happy, Sir, that it is in my power to give a specific, and
I trust a satisfactory reply to your question. You are awakened
out of your long dormant state of moral insensibility, to see and
to feel your real character and condition in relation to God and
eternity. This is the primary cause of your mental disquietude and
restlessness. You have sought for relief in the outward forms of
religion, and in the services and sacraments of the Church; but you
have not succeeded in obtaining it. These expedients have proved
to you the mirage of hope, not the well-spring of relief. Happily,
there is a relieving power yet in reserve, which will not deceive or
disappoint you--'For the Son of man is come to seek and to save that
which was lost' (Luke xix. 10). As Jesus Christ came into the world
to save sinners, he will not refuse to save any sinner who makes his
appeal to his compassion and his power. Indeed, he assures us--'All
that the Father giveth me shall come to me; and him that cometh to
me I will in no wise cast out' (John vi. 37)."
He now arose, evidently much impressed, and walked slowly out of the
grotto, pacing to and fro along the gravel walk. After some time I
moved off in an opposite direction; but at length we again met.
"I hope, Sir," he said, "you will excuse my uncourteous act in
leaving you; but I wished, by a little calm reflection, to settle in
my mind the important statement which you have given me, before the
vivid impressions which it produced went off. I trust I shall long
remember this interview; and I hope the day may come when you will
hail me as a fellow-disciple of the Lord Jesus Christ."
I then prayed with him, and shortly after took my departure. I did
not see his sister on this occasion, as she was from home, but I
left a copy of Dr. Doddridge's _Sermons on Regeneration_, with a
note begging her acceptance of it, and a request that she would read
it carefully.
Several months after this visit, when I had returned home to my
ordinary duties, I received the subjoined letter from Mr. Ryder,
which I read with emotions of gratitude and praise to Him who works
all things after the counsel of his own will:--
"ASTON, _25th February, 18--_.
"REV. AND DEAR SIR,--The conversation which passed between us,
when I had the pleasure of a visit from you some months since,
supplied the clue which I had long been searching for, to a
right understanding of the Word of God on the great practical
questions relating to my present happiness and final salvation.
I know that my knowledge is still very superficial, but I trust
I now understand the hidden mystery; what it is to pass from
death to life; and from a state of guilt and condemnation to
pardon and acceptance. I have taken the one decisive step,
and cast myself at the feet of the Saviour, pleading his own
promise, and he has given me rest. I have now obtained--what I
long sought for in vain--peace of mind, and a good hope of final
happiness; because I have been diverted from the refuge of lies,
in which I too long trusted, to the true source of consolation.
"You will not be surprised to hear, that the ministry of the
Rev. Mr. Cole became more and more distasteful, as I advanced
in my knowledge of Christ and the mystery of redemption, till
at length I reluctantly withdrew from his church, which I have
attended from my childhood. I now attend the church of the Rev.
Mr. Guion, an excellent preacher and pastor, whom I believe you
know. And it is with no slight emotions of joyous delight, that
I have it in my power to inform you, that my beloved sister has
been brought to feel the renewing influence of religion on her
heart. This blessed result has been brought about by reading the
incomparable sermons of Dr. Doddridge, which you so kindly gave
to her. Being favoured with the enlightened and soul-searching
ministry of our excellent pastor, she soon obtained joy and
peace in believing. While I was left to wander in darkness, or
in twilight, through many an anxious month, at times nearly
despairing of a successful issue, her translation from darkness
into light was almost instantaneous. She is now my helper in the
Lord; and the affection which always subsisted between us is now
doubly strengthened by the ties of Christian love and sympathy.
"I hope that ere long you will again be in this part of the
country; and I need not say how glad my sister and I should be
to see you.--With every sentiment of respect, in which Anna
joins, believe me, yours very sincerely,
J. RYDER."
THE SCEPTIC RECLAIMED.
Before leaving Fairmount to return home, I was unexpectedly
gratified by a letter from Mr. Gordon, who had learned, from a
mutual acquaintance, of my having gone to pay a visit to my friends
in the west of England. His communication, upon the whole, much
pleased me, and revived hopes which had almost ceased to exist. It
satisfied me that his mind was restless, yielding in some slight
degree to the force of facts and evidence, though he still clung
pertinaciously to his sceptical notions. He wrote as follows:--"I
have been prosecuting my inquiries on what you call the grand
question, having read carefully Dr. Bogue's essay, which you kindly
presented to me. I have also conned over some of the facts and
evidences which you brought forward at our last interview.[38]
This, I presume, you will say is taking a step or two in the right
direction; and I suppose you will wish to know the practical
result. I will first give you the negative: it has not issued in
what you would hail as a glorious triumph--my conversion to the
Christian faith. No; I am what I was when you left me--still a
decided unbeliever. My heart recoils from admitting that a theory
of religion, enveloped in such mystery, and accompanied by such
conditions, can claim a Divine origin. However, this much I will
confess, that it has led me to revise, in some slight degree, my
own theory of belief, or what you may call my disbelief. You will
excuse me going into detail, as that would spin out this letter to
a tedious length. I admit, then, that Christianity may work very
beneficially amongst savages; and it may promote the happiness of
persons of intelligence and taste, who are trained up under its
influence. I have now no desire to exterminate it. Indeed, I would
rather consent to let the venerable tree, which has taken such
deep root in popular prejudices, or, if you prefer it, in popular
sympathies, remain to afford shade and shelter to you who regard it
as the tree of life, than I would touch it to injure it. No, Sir; I
respect the taste and feelings of others too much to wish to deprive
them of the object of their attachment and veneration."
[38] Vol. ii. p. 94.
Mr. Gordon concluded his letter by saying that he hoped to have the
pleasure of seeing me in London, as he presumed that I should pass
through the metropolis on my way to my own town.