obedience to all his laws, and that, _to serve mammon_ implies an equal
submission to all the maxims of the world, and that these laws and
these maxims are, in numberless cases, directly contrary to each other,
they would then have seen our Lord’s observation in its true light;
and they could not have helped feeling the propriety of the conduct
recommended to them. But the sentiments arising out of this truth,
would have given no small disturbance to men, who were determined to
act in defiance of them. To avoid this inconvenience, they had only
to put a false gloss on the words of Jesus; to suppose, for instance,
that by serving God was meant, to _make long prayers_, and by serving
mammon, to make a _reasonable provision for their families_; and,
then, where was the inconsistency of two such services? In this way
of understanding the text, nothing is easier than _to serve God and
mammon_. And thus, by substituting a proposition of their own, in the
room of that which he had delivered, they escape from his reproof, and
even find means to divert themselves with it.
III. But, lastly, a vicious man is not more concerned to obscure the
evidence of moral truth, and to suppress in himself the differences of
moral sentiment, than he is to keep out of sight _the consequences of
moral action_: and what so likely as ridicule to befriend him also in
this project.
When the sinner looks forward into the effects of a vicious life, he
sees so much misery springing up before him, even in this world, and
so dreadful a recompence reserved for him in another, that the prospect
must needs be painful to him. He has his choice, indeed, whether to
stop, or proceed, in his evil course; but, if he resolve to proceed,
one cannot think it strange that he should strive to forget, both what
he is about, and whither he is going. And, if other expedients fail
him, he very naturally takes refuge in a forced intemperate pleasantry.
For the very effort to be witty occupies his attention, and gratifies
his vanity. A little crackling mirth, besides, diverts and entertains
him; and, though his case will not bear reasoning upon, yet a lively
jest shall pass upon others, and sometimes upon himself, for the
soundest reason.
This is the true account of that disposition to ridicule, which the
world so commonly observes in bad men, and sometimes mistakes for
an argument of their tranquillity, when it is, in truth, an evident
symptom of their distress. For they would forget themselves, in this
noisy mirth; just as children laugh out, to keep up their spirits in
the dark.
Let me alledge the case in the text once more, to exemplify this
remark.
When our Lord reproved the Pharisees for their covetousness, and
admonished them how impossible it was _to serve God and mammon_, the
weight of this remonstrance should, in all reason, have engaged their
serious attention: and then they would have seen how criminal their
conduct was, in _devouring widows houses_, while yet they pretended a
zeal for _the house of God_; and being led by the principles of their
sect to admit a future existence, it was natural for them, under this
conviction, to expect the just vengeance of their crimes.
But vice had made them ingenious, and taught them how to elude this
dreadful conclusion. They represented to themselves their reprover in a
ridiculous light; probably as one of those moralists, who know nothing
of the world, and outrage truth and reason in their censures of it: or,
they affected to see him in this light, in order to break the force of
his remonstrance, and insinuate to the by-standers, that it merited no
other confutation than that of neglect. They did, then, as vicious men
are wont to do; they resolved not to consider the consequences of their
own conduct; and supported themselves in this resolution by _deriding_
the person, who, in charity, would have led them to their duty.
Thus it appears how naturally the way of ridicule is employed by those
who determine not to comply with the rules of reason and religion. They
are solicitous to keep _the evidence of moral truth_ from pressing too
closely upon them: they would confound and obliterate, if they could,
_the differences of moral sentiment_: they would overlook, if possible,
the _consequences of moral action_: and nothing promises so fair to
set them at ease, in these three respects, as to cultivate that turn
of mind, which obscures truth, hardens the heart, and stupifies the
understanding. For such is the proper effect of dissolute mirth; the
mortal foe to reason, virtue, and to common prudence.
I have shewn you this very clearly in the case of one vice, the vice of
avarice, as exemplified by the Pharisees in the text. But, as I said,
every other vice is equally disingenuous, and for the same reason. Tell
the ambitious man, in the language of Solomon, that _by humility and
the fear of the Lord, cometh honour_[157]; and he will loudly deride
his instructor: or, tell the voluptuous man, in the language of St.
Paul, _that he, who liveth in pleasure, is dead while he liveth_[158];
and you may certainly expect the same treatment.
It is not, that vague and general invectives against vice will always
be thus received: but let the reproof, as that in the text, be pressing
and poignant, let it _come home to men’s bosoms_, and penetrate, by
its force and truth, the inmost foldings and recesses of conscience,
and see if the man, who is touched by your reproof, and yet will not
be reclaimed by it; see, I say, if he be not carried, by a sort of
instinct, to repel your charitable pains with scorn and mockery. Had
Jesus instructed the Pharisees _to pray and fast often_; or had he
exhorted them, in general terms, to keep the law and to serve God; they
had probably given him the hearing with much apparent composure: but
when he spoke against _serving mammon_, whom they idolized: and still
more, when he told these hypocritical worldlings, that their service of
mammon did not, and could not consist with God’s service, to which they
so much pretended; then it was that they betook themselves to their
arms: they _heared these things_, and because _they were covetous_,
they _derided_ their teacher.
If this be a just picture of human nature, it may let us see how poor
a talent that of ridicule is, both in its origin, and application.
For, when employed in moral and religious matters, we may certainly
pronounce of it, That it springs from vice, and means nothing else but
the support of it. Should not the scorner himself, then, reflect of
what every other man sees, “That his mirth implies guilt, and that he
only laughs, because he dares not be serious?”
But Solomon[159] has long since read the destiny of him, who would
reprove men of this character. It will be to better purpose, therefore,
to warn the young and unexperienced against the contagion of vicious
scorn; by which many have been corrupted, on whom vice itself, in its
own proper form, would have made no impression. For the modesty of
virtue too easily concludes, that what is much ridiculed must, itself,
be ridiculous: and, when this conclusion is taken up, reflexion many
times comes too late to correct the mischiefs of it. Let those, then,
who have not yet seated themselves _in the chair of the scorner_,
consider, that ridicule is but the last effort of baffled vice to keep
itself in countenance; that it betrays a corrupt turn of mind, and
only serves to promote that corruption. Let them understand, that this
faculty is no argument of superior sense, rarely of superior wit; and
that it proves nothing but the profligacy, or the folly of him, who
affects to be distinguished by it. Let them, in a word, reflect, that
virtue and reason love to be, and can afford to be, serious: but that
vice and folly are undone, if they let go their favourite habit of
scorn and derision.
SERMON XXV.
PREACHED JUNE 25, 1775.
ECCLESIASTES v. 10.
_He that loveth silver, shall not be satisfied with silver._
If a preacher on these words should set himself to declaim against
silver, he would probably be but ill-heared, and would certainly go
beside the meaning of his text.
SILVER (or gold) is only an instrument of exchange; a sign of the
price which things bear in the commerce of life. This instrument is
of the most necessary use in society. Without it, there would be no
convenience of living, no supply of our mutual wants, no industry, no
civility, I had almost said, no virtue among men.
The author of the text was clearly of this mind; since, on many
occasions, he makes wealth the reward of wisdom, and poverty, of folly;
and since he laboured all his life, and with suitable success, to
multiply gold and silver in his dominions, beyond the example of all
former, and indeed succeeding, kings of the Jewish state.
The precious metals, then, (both for the reason of the thing, and the
authority of Solomon) shall preserve their lustre unsullied, and their
honours unimpaired by me. Poets and satirists have, indeed, execrated
those, who tore the entrails of the earth for them; and, provoked by
the general abuse of them, have seemed willing that they should be sent
back to their beds again. But sober moralists hold no such language;
and are content that they remain above ground, and shine out in the
face of the sun.
Still (for I come now to the true meaning of my text) good and useful
things may be OVER-RATED, or MISAPPLIED; and, in either way, may
become hurtful to us. _He, that_, in the emphatic language of the
preacher, LOVETH _silver_, certainly offends in one of these ways, and
probably in both: and, when he does so, it will be easy to make good
the royal denunciation—that _he shall not be_ SATISFIED _with it_.
1. Now, wealth is surely over-rated, when, instead of regarding it
only as the means of procuring a reasonable enjoyment of our lives, we
dote upon it for its own sake, and make it the end, or chief object of
our pursuits: when we sacrifice, not only ease and leisure, (which,
though valuable things, are often well recompensed by the pleasures
of industry and activity), but health and life to it: when we _grieve
nature_[160], to gratify this fantastic passion; and give up the social
pleasures, the true pleasures of humanity, for the sordid satisfaction
of seeing ourselves possessed of an abundance, which we never mean
to enjoy: above all, when we purchase wealth at the expence of our
innocence; when we prefer it to a good name, and a clear conscience;
when we suffer it to interfere with our most important concerns, those
of piety and religion; and when, for the sake of it, we are contented
to forego the noblest hopes, the support and glory of our nature, the
hopes of happiness in a future state.
When the false glitter of _silver_ (_of which the owner_, as Solomon
says, _has_, and proposes to himself, _no other good, but that of
beholding it with his eyes_[161]) imposes upon us at this rate, how
should our reasonable nature find any true or solid _satisfaction_ in
it!
“But the mere act of acquiring and accumulating wealth is, it will be
said, the miser’s pleasure, of which himself, and no other, is the
proper judge; and a certain confused notion of the uses, to which
it may serve, though he never actually puts it to any, is enough to
justify his pursuit of it.”
Be it so, then: But is there no better pleasure for him to aim at,
and which he loses by following this; and although _a man’s ways_,
we are told, _be right in his own eyes_[162]; yet, is there no
difference in them, and do not some of them lead through much trouble
to disappointment and _death_? And is there not a presumption, a
certainty, that the way of the _miser_ is of this sort? when his
very name may admonish him of the light in which the common sense of
mankind regards his pursuit of untasted opulence; and when he finds, by
experience, that his unnatural appetite for it is always encreasing, be
the plenty never so great which is set before him. But,
2. Wealth may be MISAPPLIED, as well as over-rated, and generally is
so, in the most offensive manner, by those, who think there are no
pleasures, which it cannot command. For, although the miser has the
worse name in the world, yet the spendthrift (since a certain alliance,
which has taken place between luxury and avarice) possibly deserves our
indignation more.
But ye shall judge for yourselves. Are not riches, let me ask, sadly
misapplied, when, after having been pursued and seized upon, with
more than a miser’s fury, they are suddenly let go again, on all the
wings[163] of prodigality and folly? which scatter their precious load,
not on modest merit, or virtuous industry, or suffering innocence,
but on the flatterers of pride, the retainers of pomp, the panders of
pleasure; in a word, on those miscreants, who imped these harpies, and
sent them forth, for the annoyance of mankind.
And well are these spendthrifts repaid for their good service.
For this profusion brings on more pains and penalties, than I am
able to express; disappointment, regret, disgust, and infamy; and
not uncommonly, in the train of these, that tremendous spectre to
a voluptuous man, _Poverty_: or, if the source, which feeds this
whirlpool of riotous expence, be yet unexhausted, and flow copiously,
these waters have that baleful quality, that they inflame, instead
of quenching, the drinker’s thirst. All his natural appetites grow
nice and delicate; and ten thousand artificial ones are created, and
become more vexatious to him, than any that are of nature’s growth.
The idolater of riches, the infatuated lover of _silver_, now finds,
that the power he serves, the mistress he adores, yields him no other
fruit of all his assiduity, but self-abhorrence and distraction; the
loss of all virtuous feelings; and numberless clamorous desires, which
give him no truce of their importunity, and are incapable, by any
gratification, of being quieted and assuaged.
So true is the observation, that _he, who, loveth silver, shall not be
satisfied with silver_! For, either the passion grows upon us, when the
object is not enjoyed; or, if it be, a new force is given to it, and a
legion of other passions, as impatient and unmanageable as the original
one, start up out of the enjoyment itself.
I know the lovers of money are not easily made sensible of this fatal
alternative. They think, that this, or that sum, will fill[164] all
their wishes, and make them as rich, and as happy, as they desire to
be. But they presently feel their mistake; and yet rarely find out,
that the way to content lies through self-command, and that to have
enough of any thing which this world affords, we must be careful not to
grasp at too much of it.
On the entrance into life, higher and more generous motives usually
excite the better part of mankind to labour in those professions, that
are accounted liberal. But, as they proceed in their course, interest,
which was always one spur to their industry, infixes itself deeply
into their minds, and stimulates them more sensibly than any other.
It can scarce be otherwise, considering the influence of example; the
experience they have, or think they have, of the advantages, that
attend encreasing wealth; the fashion of the times, which indulges,
or, as we easily persuade ourselves, requires refined, and therefore
expensive, pleasures; and, above all, the selfishness of the human
mind, which is, and, for wise reasons, was intended to be a powerful
spring of action in us.
Thus there are several adventitious, shall we call them? or natural
inclinations, which prompt us to the pursuit of riches; and I would not
be so rigid, as to insist on the total suppression of them.
Let then the fortune, or the honour (for both are included in the
magical word _silver_) which eminent worth may propose to itself,
be among the inducements which erect the hopes, and quicken the
application, of a virtuous man. But let him know withal (and I am in
no pain for the effect, which this premature knowledge may have upon
him) that the application, and not the object, is that in which he
will find his account; just as the pursuit, and not the game, is the
true reward of the chace. He who thinks otherwise, and reckons that
affluence is content, or grandeur, happiness, will have leisure, if he
attain to either, to rectify his opinion, and to see that he had made a
very false estimate of human life.
And, now, having thus far commented on my text, I will take leave, for
once, to step beyond it, and shew you, in few words (for many cannot be
necessary on so plain a subject) _where_ and _how_ satisfaction may be
found.
In the abundance of _silver_, it does not, and cannot lie; nor yet in a
cynical contempt of it: but, in few and moderate desires; in a correct
taste of life, which consults nature more than fancy in the choice
of its pleasures; in rejecting imaginary wants, and keeping a strict
hand on those that are real; in a sober use of what we possess, and no
further concern about more than what may engage us, by honest means,
to acquire it; in considering who, and what we are[165]; that we are
creatures of a day, to whom long desires and immeasurable projects
are very ill suited; that we are reasonable creatures, who should make
a wide difference between what seems to be, and what is important;
that we are accountable creatures, and should be more concerned to
make a right use of what we possess, than to enlarge our possessions;
that, above all, we are Christians, who are expected to sit loose to a
transitory world, to extend our hopes to another life, and to qualify
ourselves for it.
In this way, and with these reflections, we shall see things in a true
light, and shall either not desire abundant wealth, or shall understand
its true value. The strictest morality, and even our divine religion,
lays no obligation upon us to profess poverty. We are even required
to be industrious in our several callings and stations, and are, of
course, allowed to reap the fruits, whatever they be, of an honest
industry. Yet it deserves our consideration, that wealth is always a
snare, and therefore too often a curse; that, if virtuously obtained,
it affords but a moderate satisfaction at best; and that, if we WILL
be rich, that is, resolve by any means, and at all events, to be so,
we _pierce ourselves through with many sorrows_[166]; that it even
requires more virtue to manage, as we ought, a great estate, than to
acquire it, in the most reputable manner; that affluent, and, still
more, enormous wealth secularizes the heart of a Christian too much,
indisposes him for the offices of piety, and too often (though it may
seem strange) for those of humanity; that it inspires a sufficiency and
self-dependance, which was not designed for mortal man; an impatience
of complying with the rules of reason, and the commands of religion;
a forgetfulness of our highest duties, or an extreme reluctance to
observe them.
In a word, when we have computed all the advantages, which a flowing
prosperity brings with it, it will be our wisdom to remember, that its
disadvantages are also great[167]; greater than surely we are aware of,
if it be true, as our Lord himself assures us it is; _that a rich man
shall hardly enter into the kingdom of Heaven_[168].
Yet, _with God_ (our gracious Master adds) _all things are possible_. I
return, therefore, to the doctrine with which I set out, and conclude;
that riches are not evil in themselves; that the moderate desire of
them is not unlawful; that a right use of them is even meritorious.
But then you will reflect on what the nature of things, as well as
the voice of Solomon, loudly declares, that _he who loveth silver,
shall not be satisfied with silver_; that the capacity of the human
mind is not filled with it; that, if we pursue it with ardour, and
make it the sole or the chief object of our pursuit, it never did, and
never can yield a true and permanent satisfaction; that, if _riches
encrease_, it is our interest, as well as duty, _not to set our hearts
upon them_[169]; and that, finally, we are so to employ the riches, we
any of us have, with temperance and sobriety, with mercy and charity,
as to _make ourselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness_ (of
the mammon, which usually deserves to be so called) that, _when we
fail_ (when our lives come, as they soon will do, to an end) _they may
receive us into everlasting habitations_[170].
SERMON XXVI.
PREACHED FEBRUARY 21, 1773.
1 COR. vi. 20.
_Therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are
God’s._
The words, as the expression shews, are an inference from the preceding
part of the Apostle’s discourse. The occasion was this. He had been
reasoning, towards the close of this chapter, against fornication,
or the vice of impurity; to which the Gentiles, in their unbelieving
state, had been notoriously addicted; and for which the Corinthians (to
whom he writes) were, even among the Gentiles themselves, branded to a
proverb.
The topics, he chiefly insists upon, are taken, not from nature, but
the principles of our holy religion, from the right and property, which
God hath in Christians. By virtue of their profession, their bodies and
souls are appropriated to him. THEREFORE, says he, _glorify God in your
body, and in your spirit, which are God’s_.
To apprehend all the force of this conclusion, it will be proper to
look back to the arguments themselves; to consider distinctly the
substance of them, and the manner in which they are conducted.
This double attention will give us cause to admire, not the logick
only, but the address, of the learned Apostle. I say, the _address_;
which the occasion required: for, notwithstanding that no sin is more
opposite to our holy religion, and that therefore St. Paul, in his
epistles to the Gentile converts, gives it no quarter, yet, as became
the wisdom and sanctity of his character, he forgets not of what, and
to whom, he writes.
The vice itself is of no easy reprehension: not, for want of arguments
against it, which are innumerable and irresistible; but from the
reverence which is due to one’s self and others. An Apostle,
especially, was to respect his own dignity. He was, besides, neither
to offend the innocent, nor the guilty. Unhappily, these last, who
needed his plainest reproof, had more than the delicacy of innocence
about them, and were, of all men, the readiest to take offence. For so
it is, the licentious of all times have seared consciences, and tender
apprehensions. It alarms them to hear what they have no scruple to
commit.
The persons addressed were, especially, to be considered. These
were Corinthians: that is, a rich commercial people, voluptuous and
dissolute. They were, besides, wits and reasoners, rhetoricians and
philosophers: for under these characters they are represented to us.
And all these characters required the Apostle’s attention. As a people
addicted to pleasure, and supported in the habits of it by abounding
wealth, they were to be awakened out of their lethargy, by an earnest
and vehement expostulation: as pretending to be expert in the arts
of reasoning, they were to be convinced by strict argument: and, as
men of quick rhetorical fancies, a reasoner would find his account in
presenting his argument to them through some apt and lively image.
Let us see, then, how the Apostle acquits himself in these nice
circumstances.
After observing that the sin he had warned the Corinthians to avoid,
was _a sin against their own body_; that is, was an abuse and
defilement of it, he proceeds, “_What! know ye not that your body is
the temple of the Holy Ghost, which is in you, which ye have of God?
And ye are not your own; for ye are bought with a price; therefore,
glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God’s._”
The address, we see, is poignant; the reasoning, close; and the
expression, oratorical. The vehemence of his manner could not but take
their attention: his argumentation, as being founded on Christian
principles and ideas, must be conclusive to the persons addressed;
and, as conveyed in remote and decent figures, the delicacy of their
imaginations is respected by it.
The whole deserves to be opened and explained at large. Such an
explanation, will be the best discourse I can frame on this subject.
I. First, then, the Apostle asks, _What! know ye not that your body
is the temple of the Holy Ghost?_—This question refers to that great
Christian principle, that we live _in the communion of the Holy
Ghost_[171]; not, in the sense in which we _all live and move and have
our being in God_; but in a special and more exalted sense; the Gospel
teaching, that _God hath given to us Christians the Holy Spirit_[172],
to be with us, and in us; to purify and comfort us: that we are
_baptized by this spirit_[173], sanctified, _sealed by it to the day of
redemption_[174].
Now this being the case, the _body_ of a Christian, which the Holy
Ghost inhabits and sanctifies by his presence, is no longer to be
considered as a worthless fabrick, to be put to sordid uses, but as the
receptacle of God’s spirit, as the place of his residence; in a word,
as his TEMPLE and sanctuary.