intimate friends, but she was more attached to the doctrines of the
gospel than to its precepts, and usually expressed a more ardent
desire to enjoy the consolations of faith, than to grow in knowledge
and in grace. She was more solicitous to guard the little territory
of opinion which her judgment occupied, than to extend the empire
of righteousness and peace; and though she would sometimes speak of
the love of God to sinners, yet such qualified terms were invariably
employed, that it bore, at least in her estimation, an exclusive
reference to a few of her own order. On their settlement at
Broadhurst they attended the ministry of the Rev. Mr. Ingleby, but
his style of preaching did not exactly suit Mrs. Lawson; sometimes
he preached well, but at other times he was too legal--he dwelt too
much on the preceptive part of the Scriptures, and too little on
the doctrinal. He enjoined obedience to the law of God, instead of
leaving the principle of grace to produce it, without any reference
to obligation. He did not go sufficiently deep into Christian
experience, nor employ that singular phraseology of speech which
she had been accustomed to admire. Mr. Lawson and his daughters
were more delighted with this new style of preaching (as it was
termed) than with the old; but rather than disturb the harmony of
the family, they consented to go with Mrs. Lawson on the Sabbaths a
distance of six miles, to hear one of her more favourite ministers.
This circumstance at first wounded the feelings of the rector, and
excited no small degree of astonishment among the pious, who had
anticipated that this family would have been an acquisition to their
little circle; but when the spirit of Mrs. Lawson was more fully
displayed, and her sentiments more generally known, it gave entire
satisfaction, as they were unwilling to have their numbers augmented
at the expense of their mutual felicity.
The day on which I was to dine with Mr. Lawson at length arrived.
After dinner our conversation turned on religious subjects, and Mrs.
Lawson distinguished herself, not less by her loquacity than by the
occasional bitterness of her spirit.
"I think, Sir," she said, "that we live in very awful times; but few
know the truth, and very few preach it. I do not know six ministers
in the kingdom whom I could hear with any pleasure."
"Indeed, Madam, and what is the cause?"
"I hope, Sir, _you_ know."
"But, my dear," said Mr. Lawson, "how should this gentleman, who is
a stranger among us, know the cause unless you tell him?"
"If, then," said Mrs. Lawson, "I must speak, though it is with great
reluctance that I bring forward such a heavy charge, _they do not
preach the gospel_. They are in general mere moral lecturers, and
their sermons are mere essays on some one branch of relative duty;
but those who are called 'evangelical,' I consider most censurable;
because, though they profess to know the truth, yet they are afraid
to preach it."
"I presume you except Mr. Inglebly from this sweeping charge?"
"He may be a good man, but his knowledge of the gospel is very
superficial. I have occasionally heard him preach a sermon which
has given me a little pleasure, but his light merely serves to make
his darkness the more visible. He preaches what I call a legalized
gospel; instead of preaching a free salvation, he is always
exhorting his hearers to be doing something; and tells them that
they must look into their own heart, or to their own life, for the
evidences of a work of grace."
"And pray, Madam, where is a person to look for a genuine proof of
his personal religion, unless he does look into his own mind? Are
we not told that a tree is to be known by its fruit? And is not
this figure employed by Jesus Christ to teach us that if our moral
principles are good, we shall exhibit the visible signs of their
goodness in our life and conversation?"
"I hear a great deal about moral goodness in the present day, but I
very seldom see any; human nature is awfully depraved; some preach
about its being made better by the grace of God, but I believe it
never can be improved. The heart after conversion is as deceitful
and as desperately wicked as before, and if we are saved it must be
by free and sovereign grace."
"I admit, with you, Madam, that those who are saved 'are saved by
grace through faith;' but does not that faith purify the heart
and overcome the temptations of the world? Where the principle
of grace is implanted, is it not represented as reigning through
righteousness unto eternal life?"
"Yes, Sir, and our evangelical moralists tell us that the principle
of grace will gradually extend its influence over the whole mind,
till every disposition is subdued, and we are fitted for the kingdom
of heaven."
"And do we not read that he that hath the hope of future blessedness
'purifieth himself, even as God is pure?'"
"But how can we purify ourselves? Does not such an idea supersede
the work of the Spirit?"
"By no means, Madam. If we are made alive from the dead by
the infusion of the principle of spiritual life, we possess a
certain degree of moral power; but this power does not render us
self-sufficient; we become new but not independent creatures. We
have duties to discharge, but we are not left to discharge them in
our own strength. Mark the reasoning of the apostle: 'For if ye
live after the flesh ye shall die; but if ye, _through the Spirit_,
do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live.' Here we see human
agency, in concurrence with the assistance of the Spirit, employed
in mortifying the deeds of the body."
"It is but seldom," observed Mr. Lawson, "that I interfere with
any religious discussion, but I must confess that I like those
principles which have the best influence over our temper and our
actions. My wife contends for faith, and some high points in
divinity which I cannot reach; and though I readily agree with
her, that faith in the atonement of Jesus Christ is essential to
salvation, yet I like to see some good works following it."
"What do we more than others?" I replied, "is a question which is
proposed to us by high authority. Many who reject Christianity
carry the principles of morality to very high perfection, and are
distinguished for their integrity and benevolence, but we are
required to surpass them. The same mind which dwelt in Christ
Jesus is to dwell in us. We are not only to admire his humility
and condescension, his meekness and his devotional fervour, but
to imitate it. We are not only to love him as a Saviour, and obey
him as a sovereign, but to follow him as an example. If we contend
for the faith, we are to 'contend earnestly,' but always with
the 'meekness of wisdom.' We should never indulge ourselves in
indiscriminate censure, nor vainly presume on our own infallibility,
but endeavour to hold the unity of the faith without bursting the
bond of peace."
The young ladies, who appeared altogether indifferent to the
conversation, now withdrew. They were genteel in their manners, and
seemingly amiable in their dispositions; but their style of dress
gave me no high opinion of their moral taste. They were much too gay
in their appearance for the daughters of religious parents, and I
could not avoid receiving the impression that they spent a larger
portion of their time in adjusting the plaiting of their hair, and
the disposal of their ornaments, than in the cultivation of their
minds. I love to see an elegant neatness in female attire, but when
the passion for dress reigns in the heart, it destroys dignity of
character, engenders vanity, consumes time, is always instituting
comparisons which either mortify pride or inflame it; and it becomes
such a perpetual drain on the resources of the pocket, that the
claims of charity are rejected, because they cannot be relieved.
"My daughters," said Mrs. Lawson, "have received a very superior
education, but have never seen much of fashionable life; they were
never at a ball or a play; and though I _once_ permitted them to
attend a concert, yet only once. I think their taste would lead them
to such scenes of amusement; but, as they know my objections, they
do not press for my consent."
"As religious parents," I observed, "_ought_ to support the
sacredness of their character by the moral consistency of their
conduct, _so ought their children_. They have the same evil
dispositions and propensities as the children of the irreligious,
but they are placed under more powerful obligations to repress and
subdue them. It is true that parents cannot force their children
to be religious, but they have a right to expect them to pay some
attention to the injunctions of religion, if not for their own
sake, yet from respect to the feelings and reputation of their
parents. This respect for parental feeling and reputation is often
the safeguard of juvenile worth; but when it is once destroyed,
the barrier of restraint is broken down, and ruin becomes almost
inevitable. I once said to a youth, who was pleading in favour of
a fashionable amusement, 'Remember, your parents are pious; and if
you persist, you will not only wound their feelings, but dishonour
their reputation; and will you deliberately commit two such evils
for a momentary gratification?' After a short pause, he replied,
'No, Sir; I will not purchase personal indulgence at such a price. I
will never deliberately wound feelings which I ought to hold sacred,
nor injure a reputation which I would allow no person to attack with
impunity.'"
"That was a noble decision," said Mr. Lawson, "and the youth who
formed it, I have no doubt, is an ornament to his father's house."
I now ventured to remark, that the present era afforded the
Christian parent great facilities in the discharge of his religious
duties towards his children, as the variety of engaging works
which issue from the press are calculated not only to interest but
to instruct, and the numerous societies which are formed for the
education of the poor, and for evangelizing the heathen, have a
tendency to keep up a high sense of the importance of religion in
the youthful mind, while they call his powers into active operation."
"Yes, Sir," said Mrs. Lawson, "the press sends forth its monthly
publications, but I permit very few to enter this house. I do not
approve of teaching young people religion; for who can teach but the
Holy Spirit? And He does not require any human performance to aid
him in his work. Sunday-schools may do a little good, by keeping
the children out of mischief; but I am no friend of missions to the
heathen: when their time comes they will be called; and, till that
'set time' comes, it is no use for us to send them the gospel."
"Then, Madam," I asked, with some degree of surprise, "are your
daughters connected with no religious institution?"
"No, Sir; and if they were to wish it, I would not give my consent.
A person ought to possess religion before he engages in any
religious exercises."
"I know a young lady," I observed, "who entered a Sunday-school, and
she soon became an excellent teacher; but, when reflecting on the
nature and design of her employment, her heart smote her, as she
felt convinced that she had never experienced the power of religion
on her own soul. It pleased God to bless these reflections to her
conversion, and she is now an eminently devoted disciple of the Lord
Jesus."
"Such a case _is possible_," said Mrs. Lawson, "because, 'with God
all things are possible;' but I should think it an insult to Him to
send my daughters to teach in a Sunday-school, or to collect for a
missionary society, as an inducement for him to convert them."
"I wish," said Mr. Lawson, with great earnestness, "our daughters
were converted; I should have a larger portion of happiness than
I now have, and should look forward to the grave with much more
composure. But, alas! all their attention is devoted to the follies
of the world--dress, music, painting, and visiting, consume the
greater part of their time. I see the children of other religious
families decidedly pious, but I see no signs of piety in mine; I
begin to think that we have neglected the means, and therefore God
withholds his grace."
This remark excited a smile on the countenance of Mrs. Lawson
who satirically observed, that her husband was fond of the legal
dispensation. "What," she added, with great warmth of expression,
"shall the Divine decree be subject to the control of our freewill?
Have not the Lord's people, in every age, had wicked children? Yes;
Abraham had an Ishmael, and David an Absalom, 'but the foundation of
God standeth sure; the Lord knoweth them that are his.'"
"True, Madam; but are we not commanded to 'train up our children
in the nurture and admonition of the Lord!' I know that we cannot
give them the grace of life, but we can give them instruction;
we cannot force their obedience, but we may convince them of its
reasonableness; we cannot keep them from evil, but we may succeed in
placing many formidable obstructions in their path to ruin."
"Very true, Sir; but human expedients will never renew their souls.
This is a work which Divine grace alone can do; and I think that we
ought not to labour to accomplish what we know we cannot effect."
"But do we not know that the Spirit often breathes on the dry bones
while the prophet is calling on them to live? We know that we cannot
command a future harvest, but does that conviction prevent our
sowing the seed?"
'But, Sir, it is no use to sow the seed unless God gives the
increase."
"Very true, Madam, and have we any reason to expect the increase
unless we do sow the seed? Are we not commanded, 'In the morning
sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thine hand: for thou
knowest not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or whether
they both shall be alike good?'"
"I know, Sir, that your opinions and mine are very different on
most religious subjects; and I think, if we continue the debate, we
shall not come to an agreement. I daily pray for the conversion of
my children, and take them with me to hear the pure gospel of Jesus
Christ; and I leave them in the hands of God, to do with them as
seemeth good in his sight. I cannot merit grace for them, neither
can they merit it for themselves. If it be given, it will be given
freely; and if it be withheld, it will be withheld righteously."
The cool indifference with which she uttered these sentiments
paralyzed my whole frame, and I felt that I ought to make no reply.
Indeed, what reply could I make that would have made any good
impressions on a mind so devoid of the common feelings of humanity,
as to give utterance to expressions of such a fearful import? I
involuntarily sighed over victims which a perverted faith was
preparing against the day of slaughter, unless a miracle of grace
should be wrought to prevent it, and speedily retired from the room,
in which I had suffered more mental anguish than I had felt during
my whole visit to Fairmount.
There is a strange diversity of character in the professing world,
but amidst all the varieties which it contains, no one presents
so many repelling qualities as the high antinomian professor. He
embraces a few leading truths of the Bible, while he rejects others
not less essential and important. His spirit is bitter, and his
censures indiscriminate; and while he pleads for the divinity of a
system which inculcates humility and meekness as cardinal virtues,
he usually displays much pride, and great want of charity. He
arrogates to himself the collected wisdom of the age, stamps his
own opinions with the seal of infallibility, and has the vanity
to suppose, and the hardihood to assert, that he, and he only,
understands the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven. The compassion
which sighs over the moral miseries of the world, never glows in his
breast; the pity that weeps in prospect of the desolation which is
coming on the ungodly, never moistens his eye; the eloquence which
would warn them of their danger, and point them to the refuge of
safe retreat, never quivers on his lips; and if we could penetrate
the deep recesses of his soul, and render ourselves familiar with
every passion which claims a local habitation there, we should find
ourselves associated with the master vices of the moral world;
whose breath pollutes, and whose touch defiles; whose existence, in
connection with the religion of the Saviour, is a mystery which a
future day will unravel, but which the present has reason bitterly
to deplore.
The antinomian heresy, which, happily, is not now so prevalent in
this country as it was in the early part of the present century, is
qualified for mischief by the very properties which might seem to
render it merely an object of contempt--its vulgarity of conception,
its paucity of ideas, and its determined hostility to taste,
science, and letters. It includes, within a compass which every head
can contain, and every tongue can utter, a system which cancels
every moral tie, consigns the whole human race to the extremes of
presumption or despair, erects religion on the ruins of morality,
and imparts to the dregs of stupidity all the powers of the most
active poison.
To find the children of such professors of religion devoted to
the follies and vices of the world, ought to excite less surprise
than regret; because it is wisely and judicially ordained, that
the adoption of error and the neglect of duty shall meet with a
just rebuke, and a severe chastisement, in the consequences which
inseparably attend them. But ought not the irreligion of such
children to become a beacon to warn parents of the danger of such
perverted notions and such criminal remissness? Shall we presume to
insult the Holy One by offering up our prayers for their conversion,
if we withhold from them instruction, and cease to exercise a
constant and active vigilance over the formation of their character
and their habits?
Can such professors be said to _adorn_ the doctrine of God our
Saviour in all things? Do they "add to their faith, virtue; and to
virtue, knowledge; and to knowledge, temperance; and to temperance,
patience; and to patience, godliness; and to godliness, brotherly
kindness; and to brotherly kindness, charity?" Are they conformed
to the image of the Son of God? If we compare their vanity with his
humility--their bitterness of spirit with his gentleness--their
bigotry with his liberality--their love of discord and contention
with his love of peace--their insensibility to the moral disorders
of the world with the tears he shed when anticipating the
desolations which were coming on the inhabitants of Jerusalem--and
the rancorous eagerness which they discover to restrict the
blessings of redemption to a select few, with the unbounded
comprehension of his invitations addressed to all, of every age
and every clime--we must feel at a loss to conceive how they can
present any fair claim to fellowship with him. If the Saviour were
to reappear on earth, he would calumniate no minister who preaches
salvation by grace--he would break up the peace of no church which
holds the unity of the faith--he would show his regard for the law
of God by obeying its precepts, and unveil the glory of the gospel
by proclaiming it among all people. But the modern antinomian
preaches only to the _elect_--sets aside the authority of the law
by pleading the indemnities of grace--disturbs the harmony of the
brethren by the contentions of discord--and pours insufferable
contempt on those holy men who endeavour to win souls to Christ,
because they execute every part of their commission. We may speak
of them in the language which Jacob employed in reference to two of
his sons, "O my soul, come not thou into their secret; unto their
assembly, mine honour, be not thou united."
Sometimes these high antinomian sentiments are embraced by
persons whose genuine piety operates as a check to their natural
tendency; but they ought always to be avoided as a moral
contagion, which, though kept under restraint for a season,
will eventually break out, and produce essential injury in any
Christian community. Who can look abroad without seeing occasion
to deplore their pernicious effects? The religious instruction
of children is discountenanced--the claims of the heathen are
rejected--the love of the brethren no longer remains the test of
discipleship--the great majority of the world are placed under
the ban of reprobation--the attractive graces of the Spirit are
repudiated as obnoxious to the faith--and the lovely, the merciful,
the compassionate Redeemer is appealed to, to sanction these
monstrosities of modern professors.
CALM DISCUSSION.
The letter which Miss Roscoe addressed to her parents proved a
means of softening down their prejudices, and convincing them of
the impropriety of attempting to force her to comply with customs
which were offensive to her feelings. Though they could not feel the
attractions in religion of which she spake, they resolved never more
to annoy or reproach her. Thus the cloud which had been gathering
for months, threatening the destruction of all her domestic peace,
passed away, and she was now left to pursue her onward course
undismayed by difficulties, because she had no longer to contend
with the spirit of persecution.
I have sometimes known the ardour of devotional feeling cool as soon
as the fire of persecution has been extinguished; and the heroic
fortitude, which the storm has been unable to subdue, has gradually
relaxed under the soft influence of prosperous ease. The mind,
almost instinctively, accommodates itself to its circumstances;
and though it rises in stern defiance against the lawless threats
of injustice and oppression, it too often sinks into a state of
comparative apathy when opposition ceases. It is at such a period
that religious principles are in danger. Courtesy will often prompt
to a sacrifice which compulsion could never obtain; a smile will
sometimes conquer where a frown would fortify to resistance; and
the faith which has stood immovable amidst the virulence of reproach
and sarcasm, has sometimes wavered under the entreaties of parental
kindness, and the tender solicitations of endeared friends.
But such was the ascendency which Divine truth had acquired over
the mind of Miss Roscoe, and such the decision of her character,
that no external change impaired the strength, or shook the firmness
of her religious principles. She was not less spiritually minded
under the sunbeams of prosperity than when adversity lowered; her
affection for her parents did not diminish her superior regard to
her Redeemer; and though she now felt still stronger obligations
to please them, yet she regulated the whole of her conduct by the
sacred maxim--"Them that honour me, I will honour, saith the Lord."
It was after her return from the cottage of a poor neighbour,
where she had been administering the consolations of religion to
a young woman about her own age, who was then in the last stage
of consumption, that she sat herself down on a sofa, in perfect
abstraction, unconscious of the presence of her father, who had just
entered the parlour. For some time he felt unwilling to disturb her,
but at length he broke in upon her musings, by asking if she felt
indisposed?
"Oh, no, papa, I am not indisposed; I never enjoyed a finer state of
health, or greater elevation of feeling than I do at this moment. I
have been spending an hour with Jane Thomason, whose happy spirit is
on the eve of departing from this vale of tears. It is beside the
bed of the dying that I feel the degradation and the grandeur of my
nature. There I see what sin has done to disfigure and destroy the
body; and there I see what the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ does
to adorn and dignify the soul."
"Yes, my dear, death is a debt which we must all pay; and I hope we
shall be able to pay it with submission when nature demands it. But
I wish you not to suffer yourself to be too much absorbed by this
subject, as it will depress your spirits. I have long known Jane;
she was always a virtuous girl, and I doubt not but she has made her
peace with her Maker."
"Depress me, father!--No; such a theme of meditation possesses no
depressing tendency. It is true, a momentary tremor will come over
my spirit when I think of the parting scene and the unknown pang of
dying, but it is only a momentary tremor--a passing tribute to the
value of that life which I would spontaneously resign for a more
perfect state of existence, if my heavenly Father required me to do
it."
"But if you incessantly dwell on a future state of existence, I fear
you will neither improve nor enjoy the present. The present has its
duties, which we ought to discharge, and its pleasures, which we
ought to enjoy; and, while we may derive some consolation from the
prospect of a future life, I think we ought not to undervalue the
present."