virtue. From his infancy, his mind is fashioned to wisdom and piety.
In his infancy he is taught and allured to remember his Creator;
and to unite, first in form and then in affection, in the household
devotions of the morning and evening. God he knows almost as soon as
he can know anything. The presence of that glorious being he is taught
to realize almost from the cradle; and from the dawn of intelligence
to understand the perfections and government of his Creator. His own
accountableness, as soon as he can comprehend it, he begins to feel
habitually, and always. The way of life through the Redeemer is early,
and regularly explained to him by the voice of parental love; and
enforced and endeared in the house of God. As soon as possible, he
is enabled to read, and persuaded to "search the Scriptures." Of the
approach, the danger and the mischiefs of temptations, he is tenderly
warned. At the commencement of sin, he is kindly checked in his
dangerous career. To God he was solemnly given in baptism. To God he
was daily commended in fervent prayer. Under this happy cultivation he
grows up "like an olive-tree in the courts of the Lord"; and, green,
beautiful and flourishing, he blossoms; bears fruit; and is prepared
to be transplanted by the divine hand to a kinder soil in the regions
above.
How many, and how great, are the differences in these several
children! How plainly do they all, in ordinary circumstances, arise
out of their birth! From their birth is derived, of course, the
education which I have ascribed to them; and from this education
spring in a great measure both character and their destiny. The place,
the persons, the circumstances, are here evidently the great things
which, in the ordinary course of Providence, appear chiefly to
determine what the respective men shall be; and what shall be those
allotments which regularly follow their respective characters. As,
then, they are not at all concerned in contriving or accomplishing
either their birth or their education; it is certain that, in these
most important particulars, the way of man is not in himself. God only
can determine what child shall spring from parents, wise or foolish,
virtuous or sinful, rich or poor, honorable or infamous, civilized or
savage, Christian or heathen.
I wish it to be distinctly understood, and carefully remembered, that
"in the moral conduct of all these individuals no physical necessity
operates." Every one of them is absolutely a free agent; as free as
any created agent can be. Whatever he does is the result of choice,
absolutely unconstrained.
Let me add, that not one of them is placed in a situation in which, if
he learns and performs his duty to the utmost of his power, he will
fail of being finally accepted.
Secondly. The doctrine is strikingly evident from this great fact,
also, that the course of life, which men usually pursue, is very
different from that which they have intended.
Human life is ordinarily little else than a collection of
disappointments. Rarely is the life of man such as he designs it shall
be. Often do we fail of pursuing, at all, the business originally
in our view. The intentional farmer becomes a mechanic, a seaman,
a merchant, a lawyer, a physician, or a divine. The very place of
settlement, and of residence through life, is often different, and
distant, from that which was originally contemplated. Still more
different is the success which follows our efforts.
All men intend to be rich and honorable; to enjoy ease; and to pursue
pleasure. But how small is the number of those who compass these
objects! In this country, the great body of mankind are, indeed,
possest of competence; a safer and happier lot than that to which they
aspire; yet few, very few are rich. Here, also, the great body of
mankind possess a character, generally reputable; but very limited is
the number of those who arrive at the honor which they so ardently
desire, and of which they feel assured. Almost all stop at the
moderate level, where human efforts appear to have their boundary
established in the determination of God. Nay, far below this level
creep multitudes of such as began life with full confidence in the
attainment of distinction and splendor.
The lawyer, emulating the eloquence, business, and fame of Murray or
Dunning, and secretly resolved not to slacken his efforts, until all
his rivals in the race for glory are outstript is often astonished, as
well as broken-hearted, to find business and fame pass by his door,
and stop at the more favored mansion of some competitor, in his view
less able, and less discerning, than himself.
The physician, devoted to medical science, and possest of
distinguished powers of discerning and removing diseases, is obliged
to walk; while a more fortunate empiric, ignorant and worthless, rolls
through the streets in his coach.
The legislator beholds with anguish and amazement the suffrages of his
countrymen given eagerly to a rival candidate devoid of knowledge and
integrity; but skilled in flattering the base passions of men, and
deterred by no hesitations of conscience, and no fears of infamy, from
saying and doing anything which may secure his election.
The merchant often beholds with a despairing eye his own ships sunk in
the ocean; his debtors fail; his goods unsold, his business cramped;
and himself, his family and his hopes ruined; while a less skilful but
more successful neighbor sees wealth blown to him by every wind, and
floated on every wave.
The crops of the farmer are stinted; his cattle die; his markets are
bad; and the purchaser of his commodities proves to be a cheat, who
deceives his confidence and runs away with his property.
Thus the darling schemes and fondest hopes of man are daily frustrated
by time. While sagacity contrives, patience matures, and labor
industriously executes, disappointment laughs at the curious fabric,
formed by so many efforts and gay with so many brilliant colors,
and while the artists imagine the work arrived at the moment of
completion, brushes away the beautiful web, and leaves nothing behind.
The designs of men, however, are in many respects not infrequently
successful. The lawyer and physician acquire business and fame; the
statesman, votes; and the farmer, wealth. But their real success,
even in this case, is often substantially the same with that already
recited. In all plans, and all labors, the supreme object is to become
happy. Yet, when men have actually acquired riches and honor, or
secured to themselves popular favor, they still find the happiness,
which they expected, eluding their grasp. Neither wealth, fame,
office, nor sensual pleasure can yield such good as we need. As these
coveted objects are accumulated, the wishes of man always grow faster
than his gratifications. Hence, whatever he acquires, he is usually as
little satisfied as before, and often less.
A principal design of the mind in laboring for these things is to
become superior to others. But almost all rich men are obliged to see,
and usually with no small anguish, others richer than themselves;
honorable men, others more honorable; voluptuous men, others who enjoy
more pleasure. The great end of the strife is therefore unobtained;
and the happiness expected never found. Even the successful competitor
in the race utterly misses his aim. The real enjoyment existed, altho
it was unperceived by him, in the mere strife for superiority. When
he has outstript all his rivals the contest is at an end: and his
spirits, which were invigorated only by contending, languish for want
of a competitor.
Besides, the happiness in view was only the indulgence of pride,
or mere animal pleasure. Neither of these can satisfy or endure. A
rational mind may be, and often is, so narrow and groveling as not to
aim at any higher good, to understand its nature or to believe its
existence. Still, in its original constitution, it was formed with a
capacity for intellectual and moral good, and was destined to find in
this good its only satisfaction. Hence, no inferior good will fill
its capacity or its desires. Nor can this bent of its nature ever be
altered. Whatever other enjoyment, therefore, it may attain, it will,
without this, still crave and still be unhappy.
No view of the ever-varying character and success of mankind in
their expectations of happiness, and their efforts to obtain it, can
illustrate this doctrine more satisfactorily than that of the progress
and end of a class of students in this seminary. At their first
appearance here they are all exactly on the same level. Their
character, their hopes and their destination are the same. They are
enrolled on one list; and enter upon a collegiate life with the same
promise of success. At this moment they are plants, appearing just
above the ground; all equally fair and flourishing. Within a short
time, however, some begin to rise above others; indicating by a more
rapid growth a structure of superior vigor, and promising both more
early and more abundant fruit....
Were I to ask the youths who are before me what are their designs
and expectations concerning their future life, and write down their
several answers, what a vast difference would ultimately be found
between those answers and the events which would actually befall them!
To how great a part of that difference would facts, over which they
could have no control, give birth! How many of them will in all
probability be less prosperous, rich, and honorable than they now
intend: how many devoted to employments of which at present they do
not even dream; in circumstances, of which they never entertained even
a thought, behind those whom they expected to outrun, poor, sick, in
sorrow or in the grave.
First. You see here, my young friends, the most solid reasons for
gratitude to your Creator.
God, only, directed that you should be born in this land, and in the
midst of peace, plenty, civilization, freedom, learning and religion;
and that your existence should not commence in a Tartarian forest
or an African waste. God, alone, ordered that you should be born of
parents who knew and worshiped Him, the glorious and eternal Jehovah;
and not of parents who bowed before the Lama or the ox, an image of
brass or the stock of a tree. In the book of His counsels, your names,
so far as we are able to judge, were written in the fair lines of
mercy. It is of His overflowing goodness that you are now here;
surrounded with privileges, and beset with blessings, educated to
knowledge, usefulness and piety, and prepared to begin an endless
course of happiness and glory. All these delightful things have
been poured into your lap, and have come, unbidden, to solicit your
acceptance. If these blessings awaken not gratitude, it can not be
awakened by the blessings in the present world. If they are not
thankfully felt by you, it is because you know not how to be thankful.
Think what you are, and where you are; and what and where you just as
easily might have been. Remember that, instead of cherishing tender
affections, imbibing refined sentiments, exploring the field of
science, and assuming the name and character of the sons of God, you
might as easily have been dozing in the smoke of a wigwam, brandishing
a tomahawk, or dancing round an emboweled captive; or that you might
yourself have been emboweled by the hand of superstition, and burnt on
the altars of Moloch. If you remember these things, you can not but
call to mind, also, who made you to differ from the miserable beings
who have thus lived and died.
Secondly. This doctrine forcibly demands of you to moderate desires
and expectations.
There are two modes in which men seek happiness in the enjoyments of
the present world. "Most persons freely indulge their wishes, and
intend to find objects sufficient in number and value to satisfy
them." A few "aim at satisfaction by proportioning their desires to
the number and measure of their probable gratifications." By the
doctrine of the text, the latter method is stamped with the name of
wisdom, and on the former is inscribed the name of folly. Desires
indulged grow faster and farther than gratifications extend.
Ungratified desire is misery. Expectations eagerly indulged and
terminated by disappointment are often exquisite misery. But how
frequently are expectations raised only to be disappointed, and
desires let loose only to terminate in distress! The child pines for
a toy: the moment he possesses it, he throws it by and cries for
another. When they are piled up in heaps around him, he looks at them
without pleasure, and leaves them without regret. He knew not that
all the good which they could yield lay in expectation; nor that his
wishes for more would increase faster than toys could be multiplied,
and is unhappy at last for the same reason as at first: his wishes
are ungratified. Still indulging them, and still believing that the
gratification of them will furnish the enjoyment for which he pines,
he goes on, only to be unhappy.
Men are merely taller children. Honor, wealth and splendor are the
toys for which grown children pine; but which, however accumulated,
leave them still disappointed and unhappy. God never designed that
intelligent beings should be satisfied with these enjoyments. By his
wisdom and goodness they were formed to derive their happiness and
virtue.
Moderated desires constitute a character fitted to acquire all the
good which this world can yield. He who is prepared, in whatever
situation he is, therewith to be content, has learned effectually the
science of being happy, and possesses the alchemic stone which will
change every metal into gold. Such a man will smile upon a stool,
while Alexander at his side sits weeping on the throne of the world.
The doctrine of the text teaches you irresistibly that, since you can
not command gratifications, you should command your desires; and that,
as the events of life do not accord with your wishes, your wishes
should accord with them. Multiplied enjoyments fall to but few men,
and are no more rationally expected than the highest prize in a
lottery. But a well-regulated mind, a dignified independence of the
world, and a wise preparation to possess one's soul in patience,
whatever circumstances may exist, is in the power of every man, and is
greater wealth than that of both Indies, and greater honor than Caesar
ever required.
Thirdly. As your course and your success through life are not under
your control, you are strongly urged to commit yourselves to God, who
can control both.
That you can not direct your course through the world, that your best
concerted plans will often fail, that your sanguine expectations will
be disappointed, and that your fondest worldly wishes will terminate
in mortification can not admit of a momentary doubt. That God can
direct you, that He actually controls all your concerns, and that,
if you commit yourselves to His care, He will direct you kindly and
safely, can be doubted only of choice. Why, then, do you hesitate to
yield yourselves and your interests to the guidance of your Maker?
There are two reasons which appear especially to govern mankind in
this important concern; they do not and will not realize the agency of
God in their affairs; and they do not choose to have them directed
as they imagine He will direct them. The former is the result of
stupidity; the latter, of impiety. Both are foolish in the extreme,
and not less sinful than foolish.
The infinitely wise, great and glorious benefactor of the universe
has offered to take men by the hand, lead them through the journey of
life, and conduct them to His own house in the heavens. The proof of
His sincerity in making this offer has been already produced. He has
given His own Son to live, and die, and rise, and reign, and intercede
for our race. "Herein is love," if there ever was love; "not that we
have loved him, but that he has loved us." That He, who has done this,
should not be sincere is impossible. St. Paul, therefore, triumphantly
asks what none can answer: "He, that spared not his own Son, but
delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely
give us all things?" Trust, then, His word with undoubting confidence;
take His hand with humble gratitude, and with all thy heart obey His
voice, which you will everywhere hear, saying, "this is the way, walk
ye therein." In sickness and in health, by night and by day, at home
and in crowds, He will watch over you with tenderness inexpressible.
He will make you lie down in green pastures, lead you beside the still
waters and guide you in paths of righteousness, for His name's sake.
He will prepare a table before you in the presence of your enemies,
and cause your cup to run over with blessings. When you pass through
the waters of affliction He will be with you, and through the rivers
they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall
not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle on you. From their
native heavens He will commission those charming twin sisters,
goodness and mercy, to descend and "follow you all your days."
But if you wish God to be your guide and your friend, you must conform
to his pleasure. Certainly you can not wonder that the infinitely Wise
should prefer His own wisdom to yours, and that he should choose for
His children their allotments, rather than leave them to choose for
themselves. That part of His pleasure, which you are to obey, is all
summed up in the single word duty, and it is perfectly disclosed in
the Scriptures. The whole scheme is so formed as to be plain, easy,
profitable, and delightful; profitable in hand, delightful in the
possession. Every part and precept of the whole is calculated for this
end, and will make you only wise, good, and happy.
Life has been often styled an ocean, and our progress through it a
voyage. The ocean is tempestuous and billowy, overspread by a cloudy
sky, and fraught beneath with shelves and quicksands. The voyage
is eventful beyond comprehension, and at the same time full of
uncertainty, and replete with danger. Every adventurer needs to be
well prepared for whatever may befall him, and well secured against
the manifold hazards of losing his course, sinking in the abyss, or of
being wrecked against the shore.
These evils have all existed at all times. The present, and that
part of the past which is known to you by experience, has seen them
multiplied beyond example. It has seen the ancient and acknowledged
standards of thinking violently thrown down. Religion, morals,
government, and the estimate formed by man of crimes and virtues, and
of all the means of usefulness and enjoyment, have been questioned,
attacked, and in various places, and with respect to millions of
the human race, finally overthrown. A licentiousness of opinion and
conduct, daring, outrageous, and rending asunder every bond formed by
God or man, has taken place of former good sense and sound morals, and
has long threatened the destruction of human good. Industry, cunning,
and fraud have toiled with unrivaled exertions to convert man into
a savage and the world into a desert. A wretched and hypocritical
philanthropy, also, not less mischievous, has stalked forth as the
companion of these ravages: a philanthropy born in a dream, bred in a
hovel, and living only in professions. This guardian genius of human
interests, this friend of human rights, this redresser of human
wrongs, is yet without a heart to feel, and without a hand to bless.
But she is well furnished with lungs, with eyes, and a tongue. She can
talk, and sigh, and weep at pleasure, but can neither pity nor give.
The objects of her attachment are either knaves and villains at home,
or unknown sufferers beyond her reach abroad. To the former, she
ministers the sword and the dagger, that they may fight their way into
place, and power, and profit. At the latter she only looks through a
telescope of fancy, as an astronomer searches for stars invisible
to the eye. To every real object of charity within her reach she
complacently says, "Be thou warmed, and be thou filled; depart in
peace."
By the daring spirit, the vigorous efforts, and the ingenious cunning
so industriously exerted on the one hand, and the smooth and gentle
benevolence so softly profest on the other, multitudes have been,
and you easily may be, destroyed. The mischief has indeed been met,
resisted, and overcome; but it has the heads and the lives of the
hydra, and its wounds, which at times have seemed deadly, are much
more readily healed than any good man could wish, than any sober man
could expect. Hope not to escape the assaults of this enemy: To feel
that you are in danger will ever be a preparation for your safety. But
it will be only such a preparation; your deliverance must ultimately
and only flow from your Maker. Resolve, then, to commit yourselves
to Him with a cordial reliance on His wisdom, power, and protection.
Consider how much you have at stake, that you are bound to eternity,
that your existence will be immortal, and that you will either rise to
endless glory or be lost in absolute perdition. Heaven is your proper
home. The path, which I have recommended to you, will conduct you
safely and certainly to that happy world. Fill up life, therefore,
with obedience to God, with faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, and
repentance unto life, the obedience to the two great commands of the
gospel, with supreme love to God and universal good-will to men, the
obedience to the two great commands of the law. On all your sincere
endeavors to honor Him, and befriend your fellow men, He will smile;
every virtuous attempt He will bless; every act of obedience He will
reward. Life in this manner will be pleasant amid all its sorrows; and
beams of hope will continually shine through the gloom, by which it
is so often overcast. Virtue, the seed that can not die, planted from
heaven, and cultivated by the divine hand, will grow up in your hearts
with increasing vigor, and blossom in your lives with supernal beauty.
Your path will be that of the just, and will gloriously resemble the
dawning light, "which shines brighter and brighter, to the perfect
day." Peace will take you by the hand, and offer herself as the
constant and delightful companion of your progress. Hope will walk
before you, and with an unerring finger point out your course; and
joy, at the end of the journey, will open her arms to receive you. You
will wait on the Lord, and renew your strength; will mount up with
wings as eagles; will run, and not be weary; will walk, and not faint.
ROBERT HALL
MARKS OF LOVE TO GOD
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE
Robert Hall, Baptist divine, was born at Arnesby, near Leicester,
England, in 1764. Destined for the ministry, he was educated at the
Baptist Academy at Bristol, and preached for the first time in
1779. In 1783 he began his ministry in Bristol and drew crowded
congregations of all classes. The tradition of Hall's pupit oratory
has secured his lasting fame. Many minds of a high order were
fascinated by his eloquence, and his conversation was brilliant.
His treatment of religious topics had the rare merit of commending
evangelical doctrine to people of taste. Dugald Stewart declares that
his writings and public utterances exhibited the English language in
its perfection. He died in 1831.
ROBERT HALL
1764--1831
MARKS OF LOVE TO GOD
_But I know you, that ye have not the love of God in you._--John v.,
42.
The persons whom our Lord addrest in these words made a high
profession of religion, valued themselves upon their peculiar
opportunities of knowing the true God and His will, and proclaimed
themselves as the Israel and the temple of the Lord, while they
despised the surrounding pagans as those who were strangers to the
divine law. Yet the self-complacent Pharisees of our Savior's age were
as far from the love of God, he assures them in the text, as any of
those who had never heard of His name. In this respect, many of "the
first were last, and the last first." The rejection of the gospel
evinces a hardness of heart which is decisive against the character;
and, in the case of the Pharisees, it gave ample evidence that they
possest no love of God. Had they really known God, as our Lord argues,
they would have known Himself to be sent by God: whereas, in proving
the bitter enemies of Christ, they proved that they were in a state of
enmity against God. By parity of reason, we, my brethren, who know God
and His Word in the way of Christian profession, ought not to take it
for granted that we possess the love of God, and are in the way of
eternal life: the same self-delusion may overtake us also; and similar
admonitions may be no less necessary to many present, than to the
Pharisees of old. Suffer then, my brethren, the word of exhortation,
while I invite each individual seriously to consider this subject,
with a view to the discovery of his real character.