Him who gave it; and to neglect its duties, would be to incur his
righteous displeasure; but when we feel the renovating influence of
Divine grace infusing the principle of spiritual life into the soul,
it will be impossible for us to wish for its endless duration. I
have just been reading a discourse, which says, 'The soul no sooner
receives this new life, than it begins to be filled with hopes and
fears, desires and dispositions, to which, in its fallen state, it
is an entire stranger. It becomes concerned about its own safety,
and conscious of its own dignity. The things of eternity arrest
its attention, and call all its powers into exercise. It thinks,
and feels, and acts, as though it regarded itself born for an
immortal existence--as though it looked on heaven as its home, and
never could be satisfied or happy till it should be engaged in its
services and sharing in its joys.'"
"Well, my dear, I hope, when our earthly pilgrimage is ended, that
we shall meet in heaven; but I must confess that I do not feel
that glow of animation in the prospect of it which you feel. In
looking over the letter I received from you the other day, I was
surprised to find that we differ so little in our religious belief;
and yet, when we converse together, a stranger would imagine that
we are at the distance of the antipodes from each other. We admit
the same truths in theory, but you appear to discover an importance
and an excellence in them which I cannot feel or perceive. They
are invested with a charm in your mind to which I am altogether
insensible. Indeed, there is a mysteriousness connected with their
operation on you which I cannot comprehend. Can you explain it?"
"Our Lord," said Miss Roscoe, "when conversing with his disciples,
who had proposed to him this question, 'Why speakest thou unto
them in parables?' answered, 'It is given unto you to know the
mysteries of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it is not given.'
It is evident, from this passage, that the truth which is revealed,
requires some supernatural illumination to enable us to understand
it; and if you search the Scriptures attentively, you will perceive
that this fact is asserted in the most positive and direct terms.
'The natural man' saith the apostle, 'receiveth not the things of
the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness unto him; neither can he
know them, _because they are spiritually discerned_.'"
"But are we to expect that this supernatural illumination, of
which you speak, will convey to us any truth which is not already
revealed? If so, the revelation is imperfect, and if not, it strikes
me that a supernatural illumination is unnecessary."
"There will be no fresh truth communicated; but without this Divine
illumination we shall not discern the importance and excellence of
that which is revealed. Hence we read of having the eyes of our
understanding enlightened. The psalmist prays thus: 'Open thou mine
eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of thy law!' And the
historian who records the conversion of Lydia, when assigning the
cause of it, says, 'Whose heart the Lord opened, that she attended
unto the things which were spoken of Paul.'"
"But as we are endowed with an understanding which is capable of
discriminating between truth and error, I cannot perceive the
necessity of any supernatural assistance. I believe that we are
sinners, and I believe that Jesus Christ died for sinners. I do not
want any supernatural illumination to confirm my belief of these
facts."
"But you want supernatural assistance to invest your belief with
power to impress them on your heart. You may believe that you are a
sinner, and yet you may not see the malignancy of sin, nor yet feel
that deep, poignant sorrow which the Scriptures call repentance. You
may believe that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners,
and yet may not perceive how his death accomplishes this great
design."
"But I fear, my dear Sophia, you are now soaring into the region of
mysticism, and are in danger of paying more attention to the visions
of your fancy than to the convictions of your understanding."
"No; a mystical theology is not only inexplicable, but it cannot
be defended by sober and rational argument. Am I offering an
insult to my reason when I beseech the Father of light to illumine
my understanding, and thus enable me to perceive, _not only the
meaning, but the beauty and excellence of the truth which he has
revealed_? And considering the volatility of the mind, how much it
is under the control and dominion of the passions, how rarely it can
abstract itself from sensible objects and pursuits, and what uniform
indifference it manifests to the great questions of personal piety,
shall I be considered as acting irrationally, if I pray that I may
be deeply and permanently affected by the truth which I believe?
O, my father! I can attest from experience that this supernatural
illumination of the mind is the great secret in personal religion.
Without it we are in darkness, while encompassed by the light of
revelation; may admit the inspiration of the Bible, while the veil
of mystery hangs over its sacred pages; may condemn, as Puritanical
or Methodistical, the very principles we theoretically acknowledge
to be divine; and, amidst all our professions of reverence for the
character of God, and love to the person of the Redeemer, may be
destitute of that mental peace which arises from a _scriptural_
belief of the truth."
The conversation now turned on the right which every person
possesses to form his own opinion on religious truth.
"I have been an enemy to free inquiry," said Mr. Roscoe, "but on
maturer reflection I must give up my opposition. Where this liberty
is enjoyed there will be great diversity of opinion, but probably
that will prove less injurious to the practical influence of
religion than a perfect uniformity, which admits of no discussion.
When you and I thought alike on religious questions, my mind was
in a stagnant state; I very rarely thought much or deeply on the
subject; but since you have imbibed your present views my feelings
have been agitated; I have been obliged to re-examine the evidences
of my belief also; and though I cannot agree with you on all points,
yet I begin to see that my knowledge is defective."
"Persecution," Miss Roscoe remarked, "on account of religious
opinions is a cruel crime, and though the apologist has often
attempted to palliate it, and sometimes to justify it, yet it is
nothing less than an outrage on the inalienable rights of man. Who
can compel me to believe any system of opinions? The effort, if
made, would be fruitless, because physical force cannot subdue the
understanding; and if I do believe any system of opinions, who can
compel me to disbelieve? Have I not the same right to exercise my
judgment in the adoption of my belief as another person, and ought I
to be disturbed, especially in this land of freedom, if I claim and
exercise this right?"
"I think not, though our prejudices are so very much in favour of
old established doctrines and customs, that we almost necessarily
feel impelled to interfere and prevent a person, if possible,
abandoning them. A parent, who is a member of the Establishment,
does not like to see his child deserting it, and though a severe
critic may attribute this to the force of prejudice, yet I am not
surprised that it should assume a powerful influence over the
feelings. The religious belief in which we have been educated, whose
rites, and forms, and ceremonies are associated with our earliest
recollections, at whose hallowed altars we have formed the most
sacred of all human alliances, and in whose consecrated earth the
remains of our ancestors are deposited, may be supposed to enkindle,
even in the breast of age, the fire of a youthful attachment; and
it must occasion deep regret to see it forsaken as the child of
superstition or the parent of error."
"I assure you I have no inclination to leave the Establishment,
though, I presume, you will admit that I have a right to do it if I
should think proper."
"Your right is admitted, for I am convinced that we ought not to
attempt to control the judgment of another; but I sincerely hope
that you will never think proper to exercise your right."
"It is not likely that I shall. I am under no temptation to do so.
I admire the liturgy of our church, I approve of her articles;
and though there are imperfections, which a scrutinizing eye may
discover, in her constitution and in some of her ceremonies, yet I
believe that she is as pure as any church of modern times."
"I am happy that your evangelical views of truth have not destroyed
your veneration and esteem for the Establishment, as it would be
a source of great mortification to us if you were to become a
Dissenter."
"I am not acquainted with any Dissenter, except Mr. Lewellin, whom I
have occasionally met at Mr. Stevens's, but our attention has been
so fully engaged by the great and important truths of revelation,
that I have never heard the question of dissent discussed. As
Christians of every denomination will meet together in heaven, and
unite in one common anthem of praise, I think they ought to cherish
the kindest affection for each other; and, instead of suffering the
minor questions of difference, which give a distinctive shade to
their religious character, to keep them in a state of reciprocal
alienation, they ought to 'dwell together as brethren.'"
"But, my dear, I am no advocate for an indiscriminate association of
religious people. 'Evil communications corrupt good manners.' Your
attachment for the church may be weakened if you hold intercourse
with those who dissent from it. There are, I have no doubt, some
wise and good men among the Dissenters; but, as there is _a larger
number of that description among us_, I think you will have no
occasion to wander out of the pale of the church for society."
"It is not, I assure you, my intention to form a large circle of
acquaintance; but I must confess that my mind is too deeply imbued
with the catholic spirit of the gospel, to keep up the separation
which divides those who are united together by ties more sacred
and durable than those of nature or common friendship. The ardour
of my feelings may impel me to become zealous in the cause of
vital godliness, but I feel such an aversion to bigotry, that I do
not think that I shall ever become a bigot. To me the questions
of conformity and non-conformity, of church and dissent, are so
insignificant and worthless, when put into comparison with the vital
Christianity of the Bible, that I dismiss them from my mind. No, my
dear father, I value, more than I value life, the truth which bears
the stamp of Divine authority, and care but little for the opinions
which are alternately admitted and rejected by human authority."
Mrs. Roscoe now entered the parlour; and, after taking her seat, she
expressed the pleasure which she had felt on reading her daughter's
letter; and said she hoped, though they differed on religious
subjects, that in future they should live together in peace. She
assured Miss Roscoe that the trifling opposition they had raised
against her was not intended to wound her feelings; and, as they
were now satisfied of the goodness of her motives, though they
still felt a little regret at the eccentricity of her habits, they
should leave her to pursue the course which her own good sense was
competent to mark out. "We hope you will not object to accompany us
when we visit our friends?"
"Certainly not, mamma, unless it be to a ball or card party. My
religious principles have not alienated me from the pleasures of
social life, though they have given me a distaste for fashionable
amusements."
"Your secession from the fashionable circle," said Mrs. Roscoe,
"has excited both astonishment and regret; and many of your best
friends very much pity you."
"Their astonishment, mamma, does not surprise me; and though I
accept of the expressions of their regret as a proof of their
friendship, yet if they knew the cause and the reasons, they would
be more disposed to offer me their congratulations. I have exchanged
one source of gratification for another; and can attest, from
experience, as I have tried both, that my present is more pure and
more satisfactory than the former."
"Really, my dear, I often wonder what you can see in religion to be
so captivated by it?"
"If, mamma, my mind had not been illuminated by a heavenly light,
I should have seen no attractions in it. I once saw none; and if I
had been told a few years since that I should live to renounce the
gaieties of the world, and embrace the calumniated doctrines of
evangelical piety, I should have trembled in prospect of the issue."
"And I assure you that I even now tremble for the issue. I fear that
you will have your mind so bewildered with your religious notions,
that its energy will be destroyed, and its peace entirely broken up."
"You need not, my dear mamma, give yourself any uneasiness on that
subject. I am happy, more happy than at any former period of my
life; and I have a prospect of future happiness before me. What more
can I desire? I have gained the prize for which all are contending;
and though it has been found within the sacred inclosures of
religion, where I never expected to find it, yet ought I to cast it
from me?"
"Well, my dear Sophia, if you are happy, I will not attempt to
disturb your happiness."
"No," said Mr. Roscoe; "nor shall others. If it has pleased God to
give you a portion of heavenly light, which he has withheld from
us, we will not try to extinguish it. I deeply regret that I ever
reproached you for your religion, or opposed you, for I am now
convinced that the spirit which originates such measures must be
evil. A remark which I met with in a discourse recently published by
a clergyman, has made a deep impression on my mind. He says, when
illustrating the following sentence--'Behold, the devil shall cast
some of you into prison, that ye may be tried'--'It might often
serve to stay the hand of persecution in religion, to consider
who, in fact, sharpens the axe of the executioner, lights the
fires of cruelty, or kindles the still fiercer flames of bigotry
and theological hatred in the soul. It is _his_ work who is 'the
father of lies;' and therefore the natural enemy of the truth is
the author of every plot for its destruction. Consider, therefore,
if you discover even a spark of intolerance and harshness in your
own heart, in what flame that spark is kindled, and make haste to
extinguish it in the waters of love.' When opposing you, my dear
Sophia, I thought I was merely opposing a modern fanaticism; but
it is possible that I have, through ignorance, been opposing the
progress of genuine piety. Ignorance may palliate, but cannot excuse
crime; and I now resolve to let you enjoy unmolested the liberty
of thinking and deciding for yourself on the great question of
religion; and my daily prayer is, that God will be as merciful and
gracious to us, as he has been to you."
Miss Roscoe replied, after she had recovered herself from that
overflow of feeling which such noble sentiments had excited, "I
thank you, I thank you, my dear father, for your kindness. You have
given me many proofs of your attachment, but this last I receive as
the strongest, because I value it as the most sacred. It is to the
influence of others that I always attributed the opposition which
I have met with; and, as I felt conscious that it would die away
upon cool reflection, I endured it as a temporary evil, which would
become productive of a permanent good. Had I met with no opposition,
I should not have enjoyed so much my present liberty; and I trust
that the veil of oblivion will now fall on the past, while a
brighter vision rises on our fancy as we look forward to future
days."
How many have pined away in the dungeon, or expired at the stake,
under the relentless demon of persecution! and though the shield of
the civil law now protects Britons from the tortures which the pious
of former ages had to endure, yet the evil spirit still exists, and
often displays, even in this land of freedom, its unsubdued enmity
against the pure religion of Jesus Christ. It cannot imprison, but
it can reproach; it cannot consume by an instantaneous death, but it
can break down and destroy the vivacity of the mind by the lingering
process of daily sarcasm and misrepresentation; yet, let not the
sufferer compromise his principles, but remain faithful, even unto
death. The angel of the Apocalypse, when assigning the reason why
some of the brethren of Smyrna should be cast into prison, left on
record the design which God has in view by permitting _you to be
afflicted_. "He (_i.e._, the devil) shall cast some of you into
prison that ye may be tried."--"Here, then," to quote the language
of an elegant writer, "if you are the children of God, is the real
end and object of your trials. They are permitted, not in anger, but
in love; not to destroy, but to sanctify; to prove your sincerity,
to try your patience, to ascertain your deficiencies, quicken your
zeal, and stimulate you to confidence, and trust, and prayer, and
love to Him who is 'able to save to the uttermost all that come to
him.' It is thus that our heavenly Father frustrates the devices
of the devil. The very fires lighted by the enemy of saints, serve
only to cherish the graces of the true Christian, to melt down the
irregularities of temper, _to burn in_ and fix all those qualities
which were, perhaps, hitherto sketched but in light and fading
colours on the character. The spirit of persecution may rage against
you, but its duration is fixed. 'Ye shall have tribulation _ten
days_:' and as He, 'whose you are, and whom you serve,' has limited
its duration, so he can abate its violence; and, when his gracious
designs are accomplished, he will deliver you from its power. The
religion of Jesus Christ has often been despised and rejected, even
by those who are her ministers; and sometimes she has been bound in
chains by the kings of the earth, as though she were the destroyer
of human happiness; but she has, in this country, broken asunder
the bands of her captivity, and is enjoying unrestricted liberty.
'May her sceptre sway the enlightened world around.' 'Then shall the
earth yield her increase; and God, even our own God, shall bless us,
God shall bless us; and all the ends of the earth shall fear him.'"
SELF-DELUSION.
According to our custom, after the engagements of the day we
retired to the drawing-room, to enjoy the pleasures of social
intercourse. Mr. Stevens having spent the morning in visiting among
scenes of sorrow and distress, our conversation naturally turned
on the subject of human happiness and sorrow. After much varied
discourse, Mr. Roscoe (who formed one of our party) observed, "There
is much misery in the world; and every individual of the human
family is called, at some period of his life, to drink its bitter
draughts; yet, in my opinion, there is a larger portion of happiness
distributed among us than is usually admitted."
"These observations," said Mr. Stevens, "are quite correct; yet
how few wish to live their life over again. Some, who have no hope
of a blissful immortality, would not object to a second birth and
to a second childhood; but in general they would prefer some other
course of life than that which they have run, under a supposition
that they should be able to avoid the evils by which they have been
oppressed, and gain the prize of mental happiness, which they have
never obtained."
"But the reluctance which we may feel to go back to infancy, and
live through our past life is, in my opinion, no substantial
argument against a preponderance of happiness in the world. If we
prefer another course to that which we have run, it is because we
calculate on a fewer number of evils, and a greater portion of
enjoyment; but who would not willingly endure all the miseries which
he has suffered, with the comforts with which he has been favoured,
rather than die and enter the invisible world, where he knows not
what destiny awaits him?"
"If we know not what destiny awaits us in the eternal world,
we ought to prefer the endless continuance of life, even when
associated with the severest afflictions, rather than wish for its
termination; because _here_ the most violent pulsations of anguish
admit of some intermitting seasons of ease; but there, if we miss
the prize, _we shall be cast out into outer darkness, where will be
weeping and gnashing of teeth, and for ever_."
"This subject," said Mr. Roscoe, "at times almost overwhelms me; and
like Job, when in his anguish, I am inclined to say, 'Let the day
perish wherein I was born, and the night in which it was said, there
is a man-child conceived.' But this is useless. I am in being, and
can't go out of existence. I may pass from one world to another, and
sometimes wish to pass the line which separates the unseen from the
visible world, that I may know the final issue; but this is not a
permanent desire. No! the final issue of life is invested with such
solemn and awful grandeur, so much personal and relative happiness
or misery is dependent on it, that I feel either instinctively or
morally afraid to anticipate it. Indeed, I should be a more happy
man if I could disbelieve the immortality of the soul. Yes, I
should. I could enjoy life; and though I might feel some occasional
regret in prospect of ceasing to exist, yet then I should escape the
awful sense of horror which sometimes fills my mind in the fearful
apprehensions of future degradation and misery."
"I have thought," said Mr. Stevens, "from our former conversations,
that you had no doubt of a state of future happiness."
"Very true, I once had no doubt, but then I never thought deeply
on the subject. I felt confident that I should enter heaven, and
participate in the joys of the blessed, immediately after my
decease; but then I was under the power of that self-delusion
which you so often entreated me to guard against. I sometimes
felt a momentary elation in anticipation of seeing the beauty and
grandeur of the heavenly world; but when I began to examine the
foundation of my confidence, I found it giving way. I thought that
the Supreme Being could not, consistently with his benevolence,
inflict punishment in another world for the sins committed in this;
and that the conscientious discharge of our relative duties towards
each other, constituted the whole extent of our obligations to him.
Hence I necessarily expected a state of future happiness; but, by
a closer examination of the Scriptures, I am convinced that he has
appointed a day in which the administration of justice will be
conducted impartially; when the motives of human action, as well as
the actions of human life, will undergo a strict investigation, and
we shall be rewarded or punished according as we have done good or
evil."
"This is a very important discovery, and may be regarded as the
beginning of a great change in your religious opinions--a change
which may lead to the most happy results."
"But can such a discovery, which has plunged me into an abyss of
terrific horror, ever lead to any favourable issue?"
"Yes, Sir, it can. It is the discovery of our guilt and our danger
that predisposes and impels us to receive the Christian faith as
exactly adapted to our moral condition. Until this discovery is
made, the scheme of salvation which is revealed in the Bible may be
contemplated as true, without being _felt as necessary_; and the
mind, perplexed and bewildered by the speculative doctrines of its
own belief, may admit them in theory, and yet reject their practical
application. But when we feel our guilt, and perceive the moral
danger to which it inevitably exposes us, we necessarily ask the
question which the jailer of Philippi once put to the apostle, 'What
must I do to be saved?' Will a person ever put such a question till
he _feels_ that he is in danger of being lost?"
"Certainly not; but when he _does feel_ that danger, the question
becomes not only proper, but one of paramount importance. And what
MUST we do?"
"As you have admitted the importance of the question, I at once
reply to it, and do so by quoting the language which the apostle
used when it was proposed to him--'Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ
and thou shalt be saved.' This reply corresponds with the language
of Jesus Christ himself, who says, 'God so loved the world, that
he gave his only begotten Son, that _whosoever believeth in him_
should not perish, but have everlasting life.' Hence you perceive
that _our salvation is made to depend on our belief in Christ_; but
it must be obvious to you that it must be such a belief as will
produce a practical effect. Not a vague and inoperative assent,
which leaves the mind in a state of moral apathy, neither alarmed by
a perception of danger, nor delighted by the promise of deliverance;
but that strong faith in the efficacy of the Saviour's death, and
his willingness to save, which will impel us to make a direct and a
constant appeal to him."