omission and a sin of commission, and concede that each alike is
culpable,[3] we shall find no difficulty with this demand of the Creed.
Why should not you and I mourn over the total want of the image of God in
our hearts, as much as over any other form and species of sin? This
image of God consists in holy reverence. When we look into our hearts,
and find no holy reverence there, ought we not to be filled with shame
and sorrow? This image of God consists in filial and supreme affection
for God, such as the young ruler lacked; and when we look into our
hearts, and find not a particle of supreme love to God in them, ought
we not to repent of this original, this deep-seated, this innate
depravity? This image of God, again, which was lost in our apostasy,
consisted in humble constant trust in God; and when we search our
souls, and perceive that there is nothing of this spirit in them, but on
the contrary a strong and overmastering disposition to trust in
ourselves, and to distrust our Maker, ought not this discovery to waken
in us the very same feeling that Isaiah gave expression to, when he said
that the whole head is sick, and the whole heart is faint; the very same
feeling that David gave expression to, when he cried: "Behold I was
shapen in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me?"
This is to repent of original sin, and there is no mystery or absurdity
about it. It is to turn the eye inward, and see what is _lacking_ in our
heart and affections; and not merely what of outward and actual
transgressions we have committed. Those whose idea of moral excellence is
like that of the young ruler; those who suppose holiness to consist
merely in the outward observance of the commandments of the second table;
those who do not look into the depths of their nature, and contrast the
total corruption that is there, with the perfect and positive
righteousness that ought to be there, and that was there by
creation,--all such will find the call of the Creed to repent of original
sin as well as of actual, a perplexity and an impossibility. But every
man who knows that the substance of piety consists in positive and holy
affections,--in holy reverence, love and trust,--and who discovers that
these are wanting in him by nature, though belonging to him by creation,
will mourn in deep contrition and self-abasement over that act of
apostasy by which this great change in human character, this great lack
was brought about. 2. In the second place, it follows from the subject
we have discussed, that every man must, by some method, _recover his
original righteousness, or be ruined forever_. "Without holiness no man
shall see the Lord." No rational creature is fit to appear in the
presence of his Maker, unless he is as pure and perfect as he was
originally made. Holy Adam was prepared by his creation in the image
of God, to hold blessed communion with God, and if he and his posterity
had never lost this image, they would forever be in fellowship with their
Creator and Sovereign. Holiness, and holiness alone, enables the creature
to stand with angelic tranquillity, in the presence of Him before whom
the heavens and the earth flee away. The loss of original righteousness,
therefore, was the loss of the wedding garment; it was the loss of the
only robe in which the creature could appear at the banquet of God.
Suppose that one of the posterity of sinful Adam, destitute of holy love
reverence and faith, lacking positive and perfect righteousness, should
be introduced into the seventh heavens, and there behold the infinite
Jehovah. Would he not feel, with a misery and a shame that could not be
expressed, that he was naked? that he was utterly unfit to appear in such
a Presence? No wonder that our first parents, after their apostasy, felt
that they were unclothed. They were indeed stripped of their character,
and had not a rag of righteousness to cover them. No wonder that they hid
themselves from the intolerable purity and brightness of the Most High.
Previously, they had felt no such emotion. They were "not ashamed," we
are told. And the reason lay in the fact that, before their apostasy,
they were precisely as they were made. They were endowed with the image
of God; and their original righteousness and perfect holiness qualified
them to stand before their Maker, and to hold blessed intercourse with
Him. But the instant they lost their created endowment of holiness, they
were conscious that they lacked that indispensable something wherewith to
appear before God.
And precisely so is it, with their posterity. Whatever a man's theory of
the future life may be, he must be insane, if he supposes that he is fit
to appear before God, and to enter the society of heaven, if destitute of
holiness, and wanting the Divine image. When the spirit of man returns to
God who gave it, it must return as good as it came from His hands, or it
will be banished from the Divine presence. Every human soul, when it goes
back to its Maker, must carry with it a righteousness, to say the very
least, equal to that in which it was originally created, or it will be
cast out as an unprofitable and wicked servant. _All_ the talents
entrusted must be returned; and returned with usury. A modern philosopher
and poet represents the suicide as justifying the taking of his own life,
upon the ground that he was not asked in the beginning, whether he wanted
life. He had no choice whether he would come into existence or not;
existence was forced upon him; and therefore he had a right to put an end
to it, if he so pleased. To this, the reply is made, that he ought to
return his powers and faculties to the Creator in as _good condition_ as
he received them; that he had no right to mutilate and spoil them by
abuse, and then fling the miserable relics of what was originally a noble
creation, in the face of the Creator. In answer to the suicide's
proposition to give back his spirit to God who gave it, the poet
represents God as saying to him:
"Is't returned as 'twas sent? Is't no worse for the wear?
Think first what you are! Call to mind what you were!
I gave you innocence, I gave you hope,
Gave health, and genius, and an ample scope.
Return you me guilt, lethargy, despair?
Make out the invent'ry; inspect, compare!
Then die,--if die you dare!"[4]
Yes, this is true and solemn reasoning. You and I, and every man, must by
some method, or other, go back to God as good as we came forth from Him.
We must regain our original righteousness; we must be reinstated in our
primal relation to God, and our created condition; or there is nothing in
store for us, but the blackness of darkness. We certainly cannot stand in
the judgment clothed with original sin, instead of original
righteousness; full of carnal and selfish affections, instead of pure and
heavenly affections. This great lack, this great vacuum, in our
character, must by some method be filled up with solid, and everlasting
excellencies, or the same finger that wrote, in letters of fire, upon the
wall of the Babylonian monarch, the awful legend: "Thou art weighed in
the balance, and art found wanting," will write it in letters of fire
upon our own rational spirit.
There is but one method, by which man's original righteousness and
innocency can be regained; and this method you well know. The blood of
Jesus Christ sprinkled by the Holy Ghost, upon your guilty conscience,
reinstates you in innocency. When that is applied, there is no more guilt
upon you, than there was upon Adam the instant he came from the creative
hand. "There is no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus." Who
is he that condemneth, when it is Christ that died, and God that
justifies? And when the same Holy Spirit enters your soul with renewing
power, and carries forward His work of sanctification to its final
completion, your original righteousness returns again, and you are again
clothed in that spotless robe with which your nature was invested, on
that sixth day of creation, when the Lord God said, "Let us make man in
our image, and after our likeness." Ponder these truths, and what is yet
more imperative, _act_ upon them. Remember that you must, by some method,
become a perfect creature, in order to become a blessed creature in
heaven. Without holiness you cannot see the Lord. You must recover the
character which you have lost, and the peace with God in which you were
created. Your spirit, when it returns to God, must by some method be made
equal to what it was when it came forth from Him. And there is no method,
but the method of redemption by the blood and righteousness of Christ.
Men are running to and fro after other methods. The memories of a golden
age, a better humanity than they now know of, haunt them; and they sigh
for the elysium that is gone. One sends you to letters, and culture, for
your redemption. Another tells you that morality, or philosophy, will
lift you again to those paradisaical heights that tower high above your
straining vision. But miserable comforters are they all. No golden age
returns; no peace with God or self is the result of such instrumentality.
The conscience is still perturbed, the forebodings still overhang the
soul like a black cloud, and the heart is as throbbing and restless as
ever. With resoluteness, then, turn away from these inadequate, these
feeble methods, and adopt the method of God Almighty. Turn away with
contempt from human culture, and finite forces, as the instrumentality
for the redemption of the soul which is precious, and which ceaseth
forever if it is unredeemed. Go with confidence, and courage, and a
rational faith, to God Almighty, to God the Redeemer. He hath power. He
is no feeble and finite creature. He waves a mighty weapon, and sweats
great drops of blood; travelling in the greatness of His strength. Hear
His words of calm confidence and power: "Come unto me, all ye that labor
and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest."
[Footnote 1: The Augustinian doctrine, that the entire human species was
created on the sixth day, existed as a _nature_ (not as individuals) in
the first human pair, acted in and fell with them in the first
transgression, and us thus fallen and vitiated by an act of self-will has
been procreated or individualized, permits the theologian, to say that
all men are equally concerned in the origin of sin, and to charge the
guilt of its origin upon all alike.]
[Footnote 2: CONFESSION OF FAITH. VI. vi.]
[Footnote 3: One of the points of difference between the Protestant and
the Papist, when the dogmatic position of each was taken, related to the
guilt of original sin,--the former affirming, and the latter denying. It
is also one of the points of difference between Calvinism and
Arminianism.]
[Footnote 4: Coleridge; Works, VII. 295.]
THE APPROBATION OF GOODNESS IS NOT THE LOVE OF IT.
ROMANS ii. 21--23.--"Thou therefore which, teachest another, teachest
Thou not thyself? thou that preachest a man should not steal, dost thou
steal? thou that sayest a man should not commit adultery, dost thou
commit adultery? thou that abhorrest idols, dost thou commit sacrilege?
thou that makest thy boast of the law, through, breaking the law
dishonorest thou God?"
The apostle Paul is a very keen and cogent reasoner. Like a powerful
logician who is confident that he has the truth upon his side, and like a
pureminded man who has no sinister ends to gain, he often takes his stand
upon the same ground with his opponent, adopts his positions, and
condemns him out of his own mouth. In the passage from which the text is
taken, he brings the Jew in guilty before God, by employing the Jew's own
claims and statements. "Behold thou art called a Jew, and restest in the
law, and makest thy boast of God, and knowest his will, and approvest the
things that are more excellent, and art confident that thou thyself art a
guide of the blind, a light of them which are in darkness, an instructor
of the foolish. Thou therefore which teachest another, teachest thou not
thyself? thou that preachest that a man should not steal, dost thou
steal? thou that makest thy boast of the law, through breaking the law
dishonorest thou God?" As if he had said: "You claim to be one of God's
chosen people, to possess a true knowledge of Him and His law; why do you
not act up to this knowledge? why do you not by your character and
conduct prove the claim to be a valid one?"
The apostle had already employed this same species of argument against
the Gentile world. In the first chapter of this Epistle to the Romans,
St. Paul demonstrates that the pagan world is justly condemned by God,
because, they too, like the Jew, knew more than they practised. He
affirms that the Greek and Roman world, like the Jewish people, "when
they knew God, glorified him not as God, neither were thankful;" that as
"they did not like to retain God in their knowledge, God gave them over
to a reprobate mind;" and that "knowing the judgment of God, that they
which commit such things" as he had just enumerated in that awful
catalogue of pagan vices "are worthy of death, not only do the same, but
have pleasure in them that do them." The apostle does not for an instant
concede, that the Gentile can put in the plea that he was so entirely
ignorant of the character and law of God, that he ought to be excused
from the obligation to love and obey Him. He expressly affirms that where
there is absolutely no law, and no knowledge of law, there can be no
transgression; and yet affirms that in the day of judgment every mouth
must be stopped, and the whole world must plead guilty before God. It is
indeed true, that he teaches that there is a difference in the degrees of
knowledge which the Jew and the Gentile respectively possess. The light
of revealed religion, in respect to man's duty and obligations, is far
clearer than the light of nature, and increases the responsibilities of
those who enjoy it, and the condemnation of those who abuse it; but the
light of nature is clear and true as far as it goes, and is enough to
condemn every soul outside of the pale of Revelation. For, in the day of
judgment, there will not be a single human creature who can look his
Judge in the eye, and say: "I acted up to every particle of moral light
that I enjoyed; I never thought a thought, felt a feeling, or did a deed,
for which my conscience reproached me."
It follows from this, that the language of the apostle, in the text, may
be applied to every man. The argument that has force for the Jew has
force for the Gentile. "Thou that teachest another, teachest thou not
thyself? thou that preachest that a man should not steal, dost thou
steal?" You who know the character and claims of God, and are able to
state them to another, why do you not revere and obey them in your own
person? You who approve of the law of God as pure and perfect, why do you
not conform your own heart and conduct to it? You who perceive the
excellence of piety in another, you who praise and admire moral
excellence in your fellow-man, why do you not seek after it, and toil
after it in your own heart? In paying this tribute of approbation to the
character of a God whom you do not yourself love and serve, and to a
piety in your neighbor which you do not yourself possess and cultivate,
are you not writing down your own condemnation? How can you stand before
the judgment-seat of God, after having in this manner confessed through
your whole life upon earth that God is good, and His law is perfect, and
yet through that whole life have gone counter to your own confession,
neither loving that God, nor obeying that law? "To him that knoweth to do
good and doeth it not, to him it is sin." (James iv. 17.)
The text then, together with the chains of reasoning that are connected
with it, leads us to consider the fact, that a man may admire and praise
moral excellence without possessing or practising it himself; that _the
approbation of goodness is not the same as the love of it_.[1]
I. This is proved, in the first place, from the _testimony_ of both God
and man. The assertions and reasonings of the apostle Paul have already
been alluded to, and there are many other passages of Scripture which
plainly imply that men may admire and approve of a virtue which they do
not practise. Indeed, the language of our Lord respecting the Scribes and
Pharisees, may be applied to disobedient mankind at large: "Whatsoever
they bid you observe, that observe and do; but do ye not after their
works: for they say, and do not." (Matt, xxiii. 3.) The testimony of man
is equally explicit. That is a very remarkable witness which the poet
Ovid bears to this truth. "I see the right,"--he says,--"and approve of
it, but I follow and practise the wrong." This is the testimony of a
profligate man of pleasure, in whom the light of nature had been greatly
dimmed in the darkness of sin and lust. But he had not succeeded in
annihilating his conscience, and hence, in a sober hour, he left upon
record his own damnation. He expressly informed the whole cultivated
classical world, who were to read his polished numbers, that he that had
taught others had not taught himself; that he who had said that a man
should not commit adultery had himself committed adultery; that an
educated Roman who never saw the volume of inspiration, and never heard
of either Moses or Christ, nevertheless approved of and praised a virtue
that he never put in practice. And whoever will turn to the pages of
Horace, a kindred spirit to Ovid both in respect to a most exquisite
taste and a most refined earthliness, will frequently find the same
confession breaking out. Nay, open the volumes of Rousseau, and even of
Voltaire, and read their panegyrics of virtue, their eulogies of
goodness. What are these, but testimonies that they, too, saw the right
and did the wrong. It is true, that the eulogy is merely sentimentalism,
and is very different from the sincere and noble tribute which a good man
renders to goodness. Still, it is valid testimony to the truth that the
mere approbation of goodness is not the love of it. It is true, that
these panegyrics of virtue, when read in the light of Rousseau's
sensuality and Voltaire's malignity, wear a dead and livid hue, like
objects seen in the illumination from phosphorus or rotten wood; yet,
nevertheless, they are visible and readable, and testify as distinctly as
if they issued from elevated and noble natures, that the teachings of
man's conscience are not obeyed by man's heart,--that a man may praise
and admire virtue, while he loves and practises vice.
II. A second proof that the approbation of goodness is not the love of it
is found in the fact, that _it is impossible not to approve of goodness_,
while it is possible not to love it. The structure of man's conscience is
such, that he can commend only the right; but the nature of his will is
such, that he may be conformed to the right or the wrong. The conscience
can give only one judgment; but the heart and will are capable of two
kinds of affection, and two courses of action. Every rational creature is
shut up, by his moral sense, to but one moral conviction. He must approve
the right and condemn the wrong. He cannot approve the wrong and condemn
the right; any more than he can perceive that two and two make five. The
human conscience is a rigid and stationary faculty. Its voice may be
stifled or drowned, for a time; but it can never be made to titter two
discordant voices. It is for this reason, that the approbation of
goodness is necessary and universal. Wicked men and wicked angels must
testify that benevolence is right, and malevolence is wrong; though they
hate the former, and love the latter.
But it is not so with the human _will_. This is not a rigid and
stationary faculty. It is capable of turning this way, and that way. It
was created holy, and it turned from holiness to sin, in Adam's
apostasy. And now, under the operation of the Divine Spirit, it turns
back again, it _converts_ from sin to holiness. The will of man is thus
capable of two courses of action, while his conscience is capable of only
one judgment; and hence he can see and approve the right, yet love and
practise the wrong. If a man's conscience changed along with his heart
and his will, so that when he began to love and practise sin, he at the
same time began to approve of sin, the case would be different. If, when
Adam apostatised from God, his conscience at that moment began to take
sides with his sin, instead of condemning it, then, indeed, neither Ovid,
nor Horace, nor Rousseau, nor any other one of Adam's posterity, would
have been able to say: "I see the right and _approve_ of it, while I
follow the wrong." But it was not so. After apostasy, the conscience of
Adam passed the same judgment upon sin that it did before. Adam heard its
terrible voice speaking in concert with the voice of God, and hid
himself. He never succeeded in bringing his conscience over to the side
of his heart and will, and neither has any one of his posterity. It is
impossible to do this. Satan himself, after millenniums of sin, still
finds that his conscience, that the accusing and condemning law written
on the heart, is too strong for him to alter, too rigid for him to bend.
The utmost that either he, or any creature, can do, is to drown its
verdict for a time in other sounds, only to hear the thunder-tones again,
waxing longer and louder like the trumpet of Sinai.
Having thus briefly shown that the approbation of goodness is not the
love of it, we proceed to draw some conclusions from the truth.
1. In the first place, it follows from this subject, that _the mere
workings of conscience are no proof of holiness_. When, after the
commission of a wrong act, the soul of a man is filled with
self-reproach, he must not take it for granted that this is the stirring of
a better nature within him, and is indicative of some remains of original
righteousness. This reaction of conscience against his disobedience
of law is as necessary, and unavoidable, as the action of his eyelids
under the blaze of noon, and is worthy neither of praise nor blame, so
far as he is concerned. It does not imply any love for holiness, or any
hatred of sin. Nay, it may exist without any sorrow for sin, as in the
instance of the hardened transgressor who writhes under its awful power,
but never sheds a penitential tear, or sends up a sigh for mercy. The
distinction between the human conscience, and the human heart, is as wide
as between the human intellect, and the human heart.[2] We never think of
confounding the functions and operations of the understanding with
those of the heart. We know that an idea or a conception, is totally
different from an emotion, or a feeling. How often do we remark, that a
man may have an intellectual perception, without any correspondent
experience or feeling in his heart. How continually does the preacher
urge his hearers to bring their hearts into harmony with their
understandings, so that their intellectual orthodoxy may become their
practical piety.
Now, all this is true of the distinction between the conscience and the
heart. The conscience is an _intellectual_ faculty, and by that better
elder philosophy which comprehended all the powers of the soul under the
two general divisions of understanding and will, would be placed in the
domain of the understanding. Conscience is a _light_, as we so often call
it. It is not a _life_; it is not a source of life. No man's heart and
will can be renewed or changed by his conscience. Conscience is simply a
law. Conscience is merely legislative; it is never executive. It simply
says to the heart and will: "Do thus, feel thus," but it gives no
assistance, and imparts no inclination to obey its own command.
Those, therefore, commit a grave error both in philosophy and religion,
who confound the conscience with the heart, and suppose that because
there is in every man self-reproach and remorse after the commission of
sin, therefore there is the germ of holiness within him. Holiness is
_love_, the positive affection of the heart. It is a matter of the heart
and the will. But this remorse is purely an affair of the conscience, and
the heart has no connection with it. Nay, it appears in its most intense
form, in those beings whose feelings emotions and determinations are in
utmost opposition to God and goodness. The purest remorse in the universe
is to be found in those wretched beings whose emotional and active
powers, whose heart and will, are in the most bitter hostility to truth
and righteousness. How, then, can the mere reproaches and remorse of
conscience be regarded as evidence of piety?