It is very conceivable that all this diversity of operations may be

justly and reasonably ascribed to the influence of the holy Spirit,

without supposing that our own freedom is impeded or infringed. For

influence is not compulsion; and we are every day induced by others to

do that which we should not have done of ourselves, without feeling

or suspecting that the least violence is offered to our free-will.

_A convincing truth_ clearly presented to us; _a virtuous thought_

incidentally suggested; _a gleam of hope or gladness_, suddenly let in

upon us; all this is no more than we frequently experience in the company

of wise and good men, who yet would be much surprised, and would have

reason to think themselves much injured, if we complained of any undue

influence exerted by them. Yet thus it is, and thus only, that the holy

spirit _constraineth us_: and the scriptures are so far from representing

this constraint under the idea of force, or physical necessity, that they

speak of it as the perfection of moral freedom: _Where the spirit of the

Lord is_, says the Apostle, _there is liberty_[50].

Having, therefore, seen in _what sense_ it is affirmed that the spirit

_giveth_ life; and in _what way_, consistently with the free use of our

faculties, he dispenses this gift, and exercises a variety of offices

towards us; it remains,

III. In the last place, to see what _returns of duty_, as corresponding

to the several characters of the holy Spirit, and resulting from the

relations in which we stand to him, are required on our part; in other

words, what we are to do, before we can hope to be _transformed by the

renewing of our minds_, under the influence of the holy Spirit.

One previous indispensable condition of our obtaining that influence

seems to be, that we ASK _it_, that is, put up our petitions to God for

it: a consideration, which, while it shews the utility, the necessity of

prayer, sufficiently accounts, I doubt, to many of us, for the little

or no effect which, as we pretend and sometimes lament, this renovating

power of the spirit has upon us.

This duty of prayer being supposed; with regard to the holy spirit

himself, _in general_, all the reverence, honour, worship, which his

divine nature exacts from us, and all the love and gratitude which his

gracious concurrence with the Father and the Son, in the great work of

our redemption, so eminently deserves, are to be religiously paid to him.

More _particularly_, we are to consider, that to the several characters

or offices, sustained by this divine person, and exercised towards us,

several duties respectively correspond; which indeed are obvious enough,

but must just be pointed out.

1. If a ray of light break in upon us, if a new degree of knowledge be

imparted to us, if we see the truth of the gospel more clearly in any

respect than before we had done, we cannot mistake in ascribing this

additional information or conviction (which comes very frequently we

know not how, and when the general bent of our thoughts, perhaps, lies

another way) to the illuminating spirit within us; and we are to see to

what further purpose that illumination may serve, and how far it may go

towards dissipating the darkness of our minds in other instances.

2. If we feel (as at times we all of us do) a vicious inclination

checked, a virtuous purpose encouraged, a moral or a pious sentiment

suggested, these secret motions are, nay, must be, from the holy Spirit;

and our duty is to entertain and to improve them.

3. Or, again, if we perceive our devotions to be quickened, our hopes

enlivened, our faith fortified, though the present state of our temper

or constitution may be instrumental in producing these effects, yet, if

they go no father than scripture warrants, and right reason allows, we

shall not mistake (having the express promise of our Lord and Master) in

ascribing these consolations of peace and joy to the _Comforter_; we may

regard them as _the earnest and pledge of the spirit in our hearts_[51]:

and then, our part is so to cherish and use them, as to _go on from

strength to strength_[52], till we arrive at perfection.

You see there is enough for us to do, though _the spirit strive with our

spirit_[53], and in such sort that we derive the power _to will and to

do_[54] what we ought, ultimately from him.

I know that this, and other things, which on the authority of scripture,

I have delivered on the present subject, will appear strange to natural

reason. But so that scripture has prepared us to expect they would do.

_For the natural man_, says the Apostle, _receiveth not the things of

the spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him_[55]. And to the

same purpose our divine Master himself, speaking _of the spirit of truth;

whom_, says he, _the world cannot receive, because it seeth him not,

neither knoweth him: but ye_, addressing himself to his disciples [that

is, to men, who walk by _faith_, and not by sight] _ye know him, for he

dwelleth with you, and shall be in you_.

On this assurance, then, we may reasonably believe what, by reason,

we cannot understand. And the substance of what we are to believe on

this whole subject, is contained in a single text of St. Peter, where

the _three_ divine persons, yet ineffably _one_ God, “_the Trinity in

unity_[56],” whom we adore, and their respective offices, are accurately

distinguished. For in the opening of his first epistle, he pronounces the

Christians, to whom he writes, ELECT, that is, entitled to salvation,

_according to the foreknowledge_, or pre-determination[57], _of God the

father; through the sanctification of the Spirit unto obedience; and

sprinkling of the blood of Jesus Christ_.

In these memorable words, we have a brief, yet clear epitome of our whole

faith. And thus at length you see that, though eternal life be _the gift

of_ GOD _in his_ SON, it is only ensured, and finally conveyed to us, by

the ministry of _his_ HOLY SPIRIT: to which blessed TRINITY, therefore,

be all honour, and praise, and adoration, now and for ever! AMEN.

SERMON XXXII.

PREACHED JUNE 19, 1774.

2 COR. vii. 1.

_Having therefore these promises (dearly beloved) let us cleanse

ourselves from all filthiness of flesh and spirit, perfecting holiness in

the fear of God._

Our discourses from this place turning very much, as they ought to do,

on the great Christian doctrine of salvation, that is, of _eternal

life_, considered as the gift of God to mortal and sinful man, through

the redemption of his Son, and the sanctification of his holy Spirit, it

would be a strange neglect in us, if we did not take care to remind our

hearers of the effect which that doctrine ought to have upon them.

This duty I mean now to discharge towards you: and I cannot do it

more properly than by enforcing that advice which St. Paul gave the

Corinthians, as the result of a long and eloquent discourse to them on

the same subject. _Having_ THEREFORE (says he) these promises [i. e. the

promise of _eternal life_, and of _acceptance through Christ_, so as to

become _the people of God_, nay _the sons of God_, with other assurances

of the like sort[58], interspersed in the two preceding chapters, _Having

these promises_] _let us cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of flesh

and spirit, perfecting holiness in the fear of God_.

The inference, you see, is direct to our purpose: and common ingenuity,

if nothing else, might well engage us, in return for such great and

precious promises, to draw the same conclusion for ourselves. But, when

we further consider that these promises are conditional, and made only

to those who obey the giver of them[59], interest, as well as gratitude,

will oblige us to yield that obedience so expressly required of us.

This obedience is briefly summed up in the direction; _to cleanse

ourselves from all filthiness of flesh and spirit_, that is, to take

care, agreeably to the double obligation imposed upon us by the distinct

parts of our constitution, that we consult the integrity both of our

bodies and minds; and preserve them both from that defilement which each

of them, according to its nature, is liable to contract in this state of

moral probation.

I. With regard to the FLESH, the gross vices which defile that part of

our frame, are so expressly condemned by the law of reason, as well

as of the gospel, and are so repugnant to the inbred modesty of every

man, especially, a such as have had their natural sense of decency

quickened by a good education, that but to mention them in this place,

I would hope, is quite sufficient. If I go farther, it shall only be to

remind you of one thing, which I have explained at large on a former

occasion[60], That Christianity hath added unspeakably to the worth and

dignity of the human body, by considering it no longer as the store-house

of impure lusts, but as the habitation, the _temple_ of the living God,

to whose sole use it is now dedicated[61].

The turpitude, the dishonour, the impiety of desecrating this sanctuary

of the holy Spirit by sordid, carnal excesses, is then apparent to every

Christian.

But the vices of the SPIRIT do not always strike the attention so

forcibly; though they be as real as those of the body, and sometimes

more fatal. The reason is, that the spiritual part of man does not lie

so open to observation as the corporeal. The mind is not easily made an

object to itself; and, when it is, we have a strange power of seeing it

in a false light, and of overlooking its blemishes, or of even mistaking

them for beauties. In short, _the filthiness of the spirit_ may be long

unobserved, and therefore _uncleansed_, if it be not pointed out to us by

some friendly monitor, who is more practised in this mental inspection

than ourselves, or has less interest, however, to conceal our depravity

from us.

Permit me, then, to assume the charitable office of holding up to your

view these _spiritual vices_; not all of every sort (for that would be

endless) but the chief of those which tend more immediately to defeat the

gracious _promises_ made to us in the gospel.

II. I say nothing of that corruption which direct and positive infidelity

strikes through the soul, whether it be the infidelity of Atheism,

or what is called Deism; because, on men who espouse either of these

systems, the promises of the gospel take no hold; and because it ought

not, cannot be supposed, that men of no religion, or of no faith, appear

in these Christian assemblies. You will think me better employed in

pointing out such corruptions, as may not improbably adhere even to

believers; though concealed from their own observation, it may be, or

disguised, at least, to themselves, under various pretences.

1. The first of these that I shall mention is a sort of HALF-BELIEF,

which floats in the mind, and, though it do not altogether renounce

the hopes of the Gospel, is far from reposing a firm trust in them.

Many professed believers have, I doubt, this infirmity, this taint of

infidelity, still cleaving to them. They think Christianity an useful

institution; nay, they think it not destitute of all divine authority.

But then they reduce this authority to just nothing, by allowing

themselves to put it as low as they can—by taking great liberties in

explaining both its doctrines and precepts—by admitting such parts

of this revelation, as they believe themselves able to make out to

the satisfaction of their own minds, and by rejecting, at least by

questioning in some sort, whatever they cannot perfectly understand—by

treating some things as incredible, others, as impracticable; one part

of their religion as too mysterious, and another as too severe. “They

believe, they say, what they can: but, after all, there are many strange

things in this religion; and the evidence for the truth of them is not

so controuling, but that there is room for some degree of doubt and

hesitation.”

All this, perhaps, they do not say to others; nay, not to themselves,

except when they are pressed by some conclusion from scripture, which

either their prejudices, or their passions, make them very unwilling

to admit; and then they take leave to be as sceptical as the occasion

requires.

But now from such a faith as this, no wholesome or permanent fruits can

be expected. It has no root in them; and the _promises_, that should feed

and nourish it, have but a faint and feeble effect; just enough, perhaps,

to keep their hopes from dying outright, but much too little to push

them into any vigorous efforts of obedience.

The way for such to _cleanse themselves_ from this pollution of spirit

(for to the several defects, the proper remedy in each case shall, as

we go along, be subjoined) is, once for all, to examine the foundations

of their religion; and, if they find them, on the whole, solid and

satisfactory, to rely upon them thenceforth with a confidence entire and

unshaken. They should reflect, that every revealed doctrine, of whatever

sort, as standing on the same ground of infallible truth, is equally to

be admitted. There is no compromising matters with their divine Master:

they must either quit his service, or follow him without reserve. And

this, upon the whole, they will find to be the manly and the reasonable

part for them to take. To halt between two opinions so repugnant to

each other, to embrace so interesting a thing as religion by halves, is

neither for the credit of their courage, nor of their understanding.

Having then the _promise_ of eternal life, let them reckon upon that

promise, like men who know its value, and do not mistrust on what ground

it stands. If they are Christians at all, they cannot justify it even

to themselves not to be Christians in good earnest. And thus will they

happily escape the disgrace of an _irresolved and indolent faith_; which

involves them in much of the guilt, and in almost all the mischiefs, of

infidelity. But,

2. There are those who have not a doubt about the truth of Christianity,

and yet, through a certain LEVITY OF MIND, derive but little benefit from

their conviction.

This spiritual vice is, perhaps, the commonest of all others; and, though

it seems to have something prodigious in it, is easily accounted for from

the intoxication of health, youth, and high spirits; from the restless

pursuit of pleasure, which occupies one part of the world, and of

business, which distracts another; from a too passionate love of society

in many; from feverish habits of dissipation in more; and from a fatal

impatience of solitude and recollection in almost all.

But, by whichsoever of these causes the vice of inconsideration, we

have now before us, is produced and nourished, it is of the most

malignant sort, and being ready to branch out into many others, should

be resolutely checked and suppressed. Though there be nothing directly

criminal in the pursuit which takes us from ourselves, it is always

dangerous to lose sight of what we are, and whither we are going, and may

be fatal. For, not to believe, and not to call to mind what we believe,

is nearly the same thing. And when a temptation meets us thus unprepared,

it wants no assistance from infidelity, but is secure of prevailing by

its own strength, under cover of our inattention.

Such, I doubt not, is the sad experience of thousands, every day; while

yet the misjudging world, that part of it, especially, whose interest it

is to suppose that all men are equally destitute of religious principles,

rashly conclude that there is no faith, where there is so much folly.

“These hypocrites, say they, are convicted of the same unbelief,

which they perpetually object to us:” Alas, no: they are convicted of

inconsequence, only.

Not that this consideration excuses their guilt: it even aggravates and

inflames it. For, when _one thing_, only, _is needful_, and they know

it to be so, not to retain a practical, an habitual sense of it, but to

suffer every trifle to mislead, every sudden gust of passion to drive

them from _the hope_ and end _of their calling_, argues an extreme

depravity of mind, and deserves a harsher name than we commonly give to

this conduct.

However, soften it to ourselves, as we will, under any fashionable

denomination, the _spirit_ must be cured of this vice, or the _promises_

of the Gospel are lost upon us. And the proper remedy is but one. We must

resolve, at all events, to acquire the contrary habit of consideration.

We must meditate much and often on what we believe: we must force our

minds to dwell upon it: we must converse more with ourselves, how bad

company soever we take that to be, and less with the world, which so

easily dissipates our thoughts, and oversets our best resolutions.

If we would but every day set apart a small portion of our time, were it

but a few minutes, to supplicate the grace of God, and to say seriously

to ourselves; _I believe the promises, and I acknowledge the authority

of the gospel_; (and less than this, who can think excusable in any man,

whatever his condition of life may be, that calls himself a Christian?)

this short and easy discipline, regularly pursued, and, on no pretence

whatever, intermitted, would presently effect the cure we so much want,

and restore the sickly mind to its health and vigour.

3. Still, there may be a general belief in the promises of the Gospel,

and a good degree of attention to them, and yet men may be but little

impressed by what they thus believe and consider. This affection of the

mind is sometimes experienced, but has hardly acquired a distinct name.

Let us call it, if you please, a DEADNESS, or INSENSIBILITY OF HEART;

which, so far as it proceeds from natural constitution, is a misfortune

only; but, when cherished or even neglected by us, it becomes a fault.

The danger of it lies here, lest by seeing with indifference the most

important objects of our hopes and fears, we come by degrees to neglect

or overlook them; to question, perhaps, the reality of them; or, to

lose, however, the benefit which even a calm view of these objects, when

frequently set before the mind, must needs convey to us.

The rule in this case plainly is, To prescribe to ourselves such a

regimen as is proper to correct this spiritual lethargy: that is, to

stimulate the sluggish mind by the most poignant reflexions; to bring

the objects of our faith as near and close to us as we can; to paint them

in the liveliest colours of the imagination, which, when touched itself,

easily sets fire to the affections; and, above all, to keep our eye

intently and steadily upon them.

We may see the utility of this regimen, in a case which is familiar to

every body.

When we look forward to the end of life, it appears at a vast distance.

The many, or the few years, that lie before us, take up a great deal of

room in the mind, and present the idea of a long, and almost interminable

duration. Hence the fatal security in which we most of us live, as

conceiving that, when so much time is on our hands, we need not be

sollicitous to make the most of it.

But that all this is a mere delusion, we may see by looking back on the

time that is already elapsed. We have lived in this world, twenty, forty,

it may be, many more years: yet, in reflecting on this space, we find it

just nothing: the several parts of it run together in the mind, and the

first moment of our existence seems almost to touch upon the present.

Now, by anticipating this experience, and applying it to the remaining

period of our lives, we may satisfy ourselves, that the years to come

will pass away as rapidly, and, when gone, will appear as inconsiderable

as the past; and the effect of this anticipation must be, to convince us,

that no part of this brief term is to be trifled with, or unimproved.

Then, again, we have the power of imaging to ourselves, in a very lively

manner, the circumstances in which death surprises very many thoughtless

persons every day; and what we should feel in their situation.

Lay then these two things together; make _the shortness of life_, and

_the terrors of an unprepared death_, the frequent object of your

meditation; and see if the most callous mind will not presently be much

affected by them.

4. The fourth and last vice of the spirit, which I have time to mention

to you, is rather, perhaps, to be accounted a complication of vices.

But what I mean is that unhappy turn of mind which prompts many persons

to elude the effects of faith, reflexion, and even a lively sense, in

matters of religion, by certain tricks of SOPHISTRY, which they practise

on themselves. They believe, and they would gladly obtain, the promises

of the gospel, but repentance, they suppose, will supply the place of

uniform obedience: they will repent, but not yet; there is time enough,

and fitter for that purpose, when passion cools, and the heat of life is

over: or, they fancy to themselves an inexhaustible fund of goodness in

their religion; the terms of it may not be rigidly insisted upon; the

promises may not be so conditional as they seem to be; and the threats,

without doubt, will not be punctually executed. At the worst, there is

no need to despair of mercy, considering the frailty of man, and the

infinite merits of the Redeemer.

Such reasonings as these argue a depraved mind, and tend, further, to

deprave it. But your good sense prevents me in the confutation of them.

I would only observe, that this vice is, as I said, a complicated one:

for, together with the unfairness and disingenuity (which belongs to all

sophistry, as such) we have here united (what is too common in religious

sophistry) a great deal of unwarrantable presumption.

The remedy in the case is, To cultivate in ourselves a modest and

ingenuous love of truth; an awful reverence of the revealed word, and

that simplicity of heart which excludes all artifice and refinement.

From these so pernicious vices of the spirit, then, that is, from a

_fluctuating faith_, an _inconsiderate levity_, an _inapprehensive

deadness of heart_, and a _perverse sophistical abuse of the

understanding_, let us emancipate ourselves by a firm, attentive,

vigorous, and ingenuous dependance on the promises of the gospel; from

these defilements, I say, in particular (having shaken off the other

more sordid corruptions of the _flesh and spirit_) let us anxiously

_cleanse_ our minds, with the view of _perfecting holiness_, as the text

admonishes, IN THE FEAR OF GOD.

This last clause is by no means an insignificant one; as ye will see

by recollecting, that the true temper of a Christian is, hope mixed

with fear; _hope_, to animate his courage, and _fear_, to quicken his

attention. For, unless this principle of fear, not a servile, but filial

fear, inform the soul and invigorate its functions, we shall be far from

PERFECTING HOLINESS; we shall at best exhibit in our lives but some

broken, detached, incoherent parcels of it. A steady, uniform piety, such

as begets that _hope, which maketh not ashamed_[62], is only kept up by

a constant watchfulness and circumspection; which our probationary state

plainly demands, and which nothing but _the fear of God_ effectually

secures.

SERMON XXXIII.

PREACHED APRIL 8, 1776.

1 TIM. iii. 16.

_Without controversy great is the mystery of godliness: God was manifest

in the flesh; justified in the spirit; seen of Angels; preached to the

Gentiles; believed on in the world; received up into glory._

The inspired writers, sometimes, dilate on the articles of the Christian

religion; pursue them separately, and at length, for the fuller and more

distinct information of the faithful. Sometimes, again, they give them to

us, as it were, in clusters: they accumulate their awful doctrines and

discoveries, to strike and astonish the mind with their united force.

This _last_ is the method of the text, which I shall a little open and

explain; but so as to conform myself to the Apostle’s purpose in giving a

brief collective view of Christianity, that, the whole of it being seen

together, we may be the more sensibly affected by it.

1. This _great mystery of godliness_ opens with—GOD MANIFEST IN THE FLESH.

When the scheme of man’s redemption was laid, it was not thought fit

that an Apostle, a prophet, a man like ourselves, no nor an Angel or

Archangel, should be the instrument of it; but that the _word of God_,

the _Son of God_, nay _God_ himself (as he is here and elsewhere[63]

called) should take this momentous office upon him: that heaven should

stoop to earth, and that the divine nature should condescend to leave the

mansions of glory, inshrine itself in a fleshly tabernacle, should be

_made man_, should _dwell among us_, and _die for us_.

The works of Richard Hurd, volume 7 (of 8) · 第 2 / 19 段