These men, indeed, _professed themselves wise_; and had, in some

respects, a juster claim, than the Jewish doctors, to that proud,

distinctive appellation. Though their reasoning, on many subjects (on

which, however, they valued themselves most) was little better than that

of the Cabbalists; yet, in moral matters, which are of the highest

concern to mankind, they had been able to trace out some plausible and

ingenious theories, and had even penetrated so far as to apprehend some

general and fundamental principles of natural religion. Yet all this

was matter of vanity among them, rather than of public use. Their most

interesting speculations were either confined to their schools, or

secreted from the common eye, in their mysteries. Their moral systems

were calculated to amuse, to polish, and, we will say, to instruct the

higher ranks of men; but they were composed in such a way, and proceeded

on such principles, that the vulgar could be little benefited by them.

And, for what they knew of religious truth, they studiously kept it

from the _poor_, and left them to the tyranny of their senseless, their

impure, their abominable superstitions. Even Socrates himself, though he

laboured very commendably to reform the lives of his fellow-citizens,

yet laboured to little effect, as he would not, or durst not, disgrace

their idolatries, the source of all their corruption and misery. The

rest of these wise men were well contented, at most, with being _wise to

themselves_; they stood aloof from the prophane vulgar; and contemplated,

with much complacency, or with much disdain, the popular errors.

Such, and so wretched were the _poor_, when our blessed Lord came to

announce the good tidings of salvation to them! Incapable of themselves

to find out or to understand their duty, and misled, neglected, or

contemned by those who should have been their instructors; lost in error

and in vice, with no prospect of recovering themselves out of either;

without guides, and without friends; in a word, _without hope, and

without God in the world_[170]; What could equal their wants and their

distresses? And how loudly did they cry to Heaven for some friendly hand

to be stretched out, some celestial light to be dispensed, to them?

But, perhaps, these unhappy men deserved not the care of Heaven. And,

without doubt, if we put their claim on that footing, it will be

difficult to make out their title to such distinction. Yet they had

something, too, to plead for themselves, something to engage the regards

of their merciful Creator, if it be true, as I observed,

II. In the next place, that their hearts, depraved as they were, were yet

not so utterly perverse, as those of the _rich and great and wise_, who

poured such contempt upon them.

And, for our satisfaction in this point, we need but look into the

Gospel-history; where we find, from many facts and testimonies, that the

poorer sort among the Jews were they who gave the best proofs of their

disposition to embrace the doctrine, and acknowledge the pretensions, of

Jesus.

When he _preached_ to the Jews, the Scribes and Pharisees, that is, the

_rich and wise_, almost universally and without exception, cavilled at

his doctrine, perverted his words, and sought occasion only _how they

might entangle him in his talk_[171]. But the people, giving way to the

ingenuous sense of their own minds, _heared him gladly_[172]: They were

even _very attentive to hear him_[173]. Nor let it be thought, that the

love of novelty, or some worse motive, which oft seduces the populace

in such cases, was the cause of this attention. They give another, and

better reason of it—_Never man_, say they, _spake like this man_[174]:

Again, _they were astonished at his doctrine, for he taught them as one

having authority, and not as the Scribes_[175]; That is, they had the

sense to perceive there was a weight and force and importance in his

doctrines, which they had never found in any other, and, least of all, in

the light, frothy, and frivolous doctrines of their Scribes; and they had

the honesty to acknowledge and proclaim their own feelings.

Again; When Jesus wrought his miracles before the Jews, while their

superiors were unconvinced, or blasphemed against conviction,

the multitudes cried out in admiration, _Is not this the Son of

David[176]?_—_It was never_, they say, _so seen in Israel_[177]—With a

becoming candour and piety, _they marvelled, and glorified God, who had

given such power unto men_[178].

Thus much for the Jews. And the same difference, between the _rich and

poor_, afterwards appeared, when the Apostles turned themselves to the

Gentiles. So that St. James reasons upon it, as a certain fact. _Do not

rich men oppress you, and draw you before the Judgment seats? Do they not

blaspheme that worthy name by which ye are called[179]?_ And St. Paul to

the same purpose, when appeals to the Gentile Christians themselves—_Ye

see your calling, my brethren, how that not many wise men after the

flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called_[180].

And, if we extend our inquiries beyond the Apostolic age, we still find,

that, while councils and synagogues, priests and philosophers, governors

and kings, were confederated against the rising church, the _poor_,

the _weak_, the _ignorant_, the _ignoble_, very readily, and in great

numbers, pressed into it.

Considering then this fairness of mind, which distinguished the _poor_,

together with their multiplied necessities, we shall cease to think it

strange that our blessed Lord should first and principally _preach the

Gospel to them_; and that this circumstance should be predicted of him,

and urged by himself, as characteristic of his person and office. For

what could distinguish the divine Messiah more, than this condescension

to those who most needed, and best deserved, his instruction? Who can

wonder that, _when he saw the multitudes_, thus circumstanced, _he was

moved with compassion on them, because they fainted_[181], under the

merciless vexations of their superiors, _and were scattered abroad_[182],

and left exposed to every injury, _as sheep having no shepherd_[183]?

Could any splendor of miracles more illustrate his character, than

that affectionate address to the poor people, groaning under all their

burthens, of which the pride of wealth and wisdom was not the least,

_Come unto me, ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you

rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me, for I am meek and lonely in

heart, and ye shall find rest to your souls_[184]?

Our Lord’s whole ministry seems uniformly directed to this end of beating

down the insolence of all worldly distinctions, which had too much

vilified and degraded human nature. For this purpose, he condescended,

himself, to be born in the lowest rank of life, to be brought up in what

the world calls a mean and mechanic profession, to converse chiefly with

the poor and indigent, to take for his companions and disciples the most

sordid of the people, and to propagate his religion by the weakest and

most unpromising instruments: _Chusing_, as St. Paul divinely expresses

it, _the foolish things of the world, to confound the wise; the weak

things of the world, to confound the things that are mighty; And the base

things of the world, and things which are despised, yea, and things which

are not, to bring to nought things that are: That no flesh should glory

in his presence_[185].

In a word, he seems studiously to have bent his whole endeavours, to

vindicate the honour of depressed humanity; to support its weakness, to

countenance its wants, to ennoble its misery, and to dignify its disgrace.

Nor let any one presume to insinuate, that this conduct of our blessed

Saviour was directed to other ends; As if he sought, by this application

to the people, to engage _them_ in the support of his new kingdom,

and then, by their noise and numbers, to force the rest into it. The

suspicion is utterly without grounds. Jesus made no factious use of the

popularity he acquired by his condescension; he discountenanced and

repressed every effort of that nature; and, though his care was chiefly

employed about the _poor_, it was not confined to them: He _preached_

indiscriminately to all, he did his miracles before all, in public, in

open day-light, in the presence of the greatest persons, and in places

of the greatest resort; in short, his doctrines and his credentials

were equally offered to the examination of men of all ranks and all

denominations, of the doctors and rulers of the Jewish people, as well as

of the people themselves. This, an impostor most assuredly would not have

done.

We have now, then, a reasonable account given us, why it pleased God that

the Saviour of the world should be known by this mark, among others, of

_his preaching the Gospel to the poor_. The GOODNESS of his character was

signally illustrated, by this gracious conduct. I have only to observe,

further, that his WISDOM was equally displayed by it: And both together

must needs furnish a presumptive argument of his divine mission.

Had the ablest speculative philosopher been consulted about the proper

method of reforming the world, though with the attending evidence and

authority of miracles, I suppose his plan for effecting this design would

have been wholly different from that, which was taken. He would have

counselled an application, not to the _poor_ chiefly, if to them at all,

but to the _rich_, the _great_, and the _wise_. The minister of this

important charge would have been directed to shew himself in the most

conspicuous scene, to make the capital of the world, imperial Rome, the

head-quarters of his mission, to perform his miracles before the Roman

senate, and to proselyte, first of all, the wise and learned of that

empire; As conceiving this to be the readiest way to the establishment of

his new Religion, and trusting to the power of these great instruments,

as to some irresistible vortex, to draw the people with them, into the

general profession of it.

This, or something like this, we may imagine, would have been the

language of human wisdom. But what would have been the event of these

profound and politic counsels? Most probably, the design would not have

taken effect. The interests, the prejudices, the pride, and the very

philosophy of the world would have revolted against it. The plainest

miracles would have been shuffled over, as the sleights of magick: and

the divinest truths, been derided as unlearned and ignorant conceits.

But what if the event had been otherwise? What, if the new religion

had prospered and acquired an establishment by these mighty means?

Posterity would then have turned the argument in another manner. They

would have accounted, and with some reason, for this revolution in the

sentiments of mankind, not from the will of Heaven, but the power and

policy of men. They would have sought the origin of this triumphant

religion in the operation of human causes, and not in the controlling

influence of divine. The new system might be preferred to many others

that have prevailed in the world, but would be thought to have made its

way by the same means. It would still be considered, as a mere human

engine, calculated to serve the ends of society, and not to interest the

conscience, as proceeding from the sole authority of God. And what could

have been opposed to these suggestions? The cause is plainly adequate to

the effect: And, thus, the glory of God would have been obscured; and the

dispensation itself, exposed to contempt.

See then _the riches both of the goodness and wisdom of God_: Of his

GOODNESS, in caring for the poor; and of his WISDOM, in providing by his

use of so unlikely means, _that our faith should not stand in the wisdom

of man, but in the power of God_.

To conclude; _the ways of God are_, very frequently, _not our ways_[186];

Yet, when the difference is most striking, a diligent inquiry will

sometimes convince us (as in the case before us) that they may be

justified even to our apprehensions: The use of which conviction should

be, to satisfy us, in other cases, that his ways are always adorable,

even when to US, in this state of weakness and blindness, they are _past

finding out_.

SERMON XLII.

PREACHED JANUARY 24, 1773.

JOHN xiv. 2.

_In my Father’s house are many mansions_: IF IT WERE NOT SO, I WOULD HAVE

TOLD YOU.

These words are not a little remarkable; and, if carefully considered,

will be found to make very much for the honour of the Christian religion,

and its divine author.

Our blessed Lord was now upon the point of leaving the world. He foresaw,

distinctly, his own approaching death, and the discouragements of all

sorts, which, of course, would oppress his disciples, when he should be

taken from them. He therefore applies himself, in this farewell address,

to animate their courage by the assurance of future glory. “_Let not

your heart be troubled_, says he, at the worst that may befall you: _Ye

believe in_ the general providence of _God_: _believe also in me_, in the

care which I shall especially take to see an ample recompence made you

for all your sufferings on my account. _For in my Father’s house are many

mansions_; wherein each of you, according to his deserts, shall for ever

enjoy an inviolable repose and felicity. And on this promise ye may rely

with the most entire confidence: for know this, That, _if it were not

so_, no consideration should have induced me to fill your minds with vain

hopes; on the other hand, _I would have told you_ the plain truth, how

unwelcome soever it might be to you.”

We have here, then, from the mouth of Christ himself, an express

disavowal of RELIGIOUS FRAUD OR IMPOSTURE; and that, in a point where

wise men have sometimes thought themselves at liberty, nay under an

obligation, to _lye_ for the public service, and in a conjuncture, too,

when, if ever, it might seem allowable for a good man to deceive his

friends on a mere principle of compassion.

For what so beneficial, it may be said, to mankind, at large, as

the persuasion of a future state, in which their happiness shall be

proportioned to their virtue? And who, that has any bowels, would carry

his attachment to strict truth so far, as not to suffer an unhappy friend

to _die_, at least, in this persuasion, when the hopes of life, or the

comforts of it, had entirely forsaken him?

These questions are plausible: but our Lord, who was _the Truth_, as well

as _the Life_, governed himself by other maxims. He knew that the real

interests of mankind are only, or are best promoted by veracity; that

every degree of fraud, though it may have some immediate, or temporary

good effects, is, in the order of things, productive of much mischief; is

injurious to our moral and reasonable nature, which was made for truth,

and finds its proper satisfaction in it; is liable to detection, to

suspicion, at least; and if it be but the latter (entertained on probable

grounds, and become, as it soon will be, universal), not only the chief

benefits of the imposture are, thenceforth, lost, but truth itself,

in other cases, is taken for imposture: of which there is not a more

deplorable instance, than in the subject we are now considering: for,

it being well known that men have been forward to deceive each other

in matters of religion, and particularly in what concerns the hope or

fear of a future state, hence, an incurable suspicion has sunk deep into

the minds of too many, concerning Christianity itself; as if, in this

momentous doctrine of life and immortality, it amused us only, as many

other schemes of religion have done, with a plausible and politic fiction.

But our blessed Lord, as I said, had other views of this matter, and

governed himself by other principles. He knew, who it was that had been

_a liar_, and therefore _a man-slayer from the beginning_[187]; and

left it to him, the adversary of God and man, to signalize himself by

_murderous_ deceit and imposture. For himself, he tells his disciples,

whom of all men, it concerned him most to possess with this salutary

belief of a future state; He tells them, I say, that, instead of deluding

them with a groundless hope, he would certainly, and even at this season,

which made that hope so infinitely precious, declare to them the simple

truth, and on no account permit them to continue under a false (if it had

been false), though flattering persuasion.

Shall we believe this great teacher, on his own word? Or, will you

suspect, that even this uncommon declaration, uncommon in the founder of

a new religion, was only a refinement of art and policy; and that Jesus

hoped, by this shew of frankness, to propagate his favourite imposture

the more successfully in the world?

I know, and have just now observed, to what lengths our ingenious

suspicions on this subject are apt to run. But consider the

circumstances; and then judge for yourselves, whether the suspicion, in

this case, be well founded.

_In my Father’s house_, says he, _are many mansions: if it were not so, I

would have told you_. And can we doubt his sincerity in this declaration,

when he was now to make an experiment of its truth; and the deception, if

it were one, was first to operate on himself, before it affected others?

A speculative reasoner, or a politic legislator, when planning his system

at his ease, and in no danger of being called upon to make trial of

his own principles, might discourse with much complacency, though with

little inward belief, of a happy futurity. But for one, who was just

stepping into that world, of which he announced such wonders, who was

going, by one confident venture, to put his doctrine to the proof, and

to expire in torments from a view to his own promises; for one, I say,

thus circumstanced, knowingly to delude himself and others, is not in

human nature, unless perverted by such a degree of weakness or vanity,

as no man will think chargeable on the character of Jesus. Socrates, the

ablest and the honestest of the ancient sages, had, on moral principles,

reasoned himself into a favourable opinion of the soul’s immortality.

He had often expressed this opinion to his friends, in terms of some

force; and there were times in which he seemed very little, if at all,

to question the truth of it. Yet, when he came to die, and had taken the

fatal cup into his hand, his resolution gives way, he hesitates, and

leaves his followers, after first of all confessing himself to be left,

in the utmost uncertainty on this momentous topic: a conduct surely very

natural, and becoming a wise man, who had not, and who knew he had not,

the most convincing evidence of its reality!

But there are further reasons to think that Jesus was sincere in making

this declaration to his disciples, suggested to us by _the terms of his

religion_, and by _his own personal character_.

Those _terms_ were, that whoever believed in the name of Christ, that

is, became a convert to his religion, was thenceforth to encounter all

sorts of difficulties, and dangers, and distresses, nay, death itself,

and that, in every dreadful shape, which the malice of the world could

invent, rather than to retract or forego his open profession of it. This,

the disciples had been often told by their Master: who, whether as a

prophet, or a wise man (it matters not which, to our present purpose) had

distinctly foreseen, and had set before them in all its force, what they

were to expect and to suffer for his sake, and the sake of the Gospel.

Other teachers of religion and philosophy required no such terms of their

followers, or had reason to apprehend no such consequences from the

propagation of their opinions. They might therefore keep their doubts to

themselves, if they had any, of a future state: In Jesus, such reserve,

or dissimulation, would have been the most unfeeling cruelty.

And against whom is this suspicion indulged? Why against HIM (and that

was the other consideration I mentioned) whose personal character was

that of goodness and philanthropy itself. This character shines out

in every page of the Gospel. We see it in all he said and did to his

disciples, whom he calls his _friends_, and treats as such on all

occasions: witness his condescension to their infirmities, his concern

for their safety (while it might consist with their duty), his compassion

for their sufferings, his friendliness of temper, we may even say, his

affection for their persons and virtues. In short, the sympathetic

tenderness of his nature was evidenced in all ways, in which it could

possibly shew itself, even by that of tears.

Now, put these two things together, his _deep concern for the interests

of his disciples_, on the one hand, and _the severe injunctions he gave

them_, on the other, and see if there be any possibility of mistrusting

our Lord’s good faith in that memorable declaration—_In my Father’s house

there are many mansions_: IF IT WERE NOT SO, I WOULD HAVE TOLD YOU.

His language on the subject, so interesting to them, had, indeed,

been always the same. _Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and

persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely,

for my sake. Rejoyce, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward

in heaven[188]._ This he said in the beginning of his ministry: This he

now repeats in the close of it; but with that remarkable assurance (now

for the first time given, and, from the _time_ of giving it, not more

important, than it is credible) _if it were not so_, if your _reward in

heaven_ were not such, and so great, as I have ever affirmed it to be, in

recompence of all your sufferings, past and to come, for my sake, I would

not have left you under an error in what so infinitely concerns You—_I

would_ expressly _have told you of it_.

THE USE we have to make of these reflections is, to see what our _Lord’s

character_ truly was; and what our reasonable _hopes and expectations_

from him are.

I. But for this declaration, it might be thought, that Jesus, pushed

on by an eager ambition of being the founder of a sect, had, for his

_own_ ends, preached up this alluring doctrine of a future state; or,

that, heated by a moral enthusiasm, he had overlooked the mischiefs of

his scheme, in contemplation of the _public_ ends, it might serve, as

applied to the important interests of virtue and religion. Surmises

of this sort might have sprung up in the minds of men, not prejudiced

against the author of our faith; and would certainly have been cherished

and malignantly insisted upon by his enemies. But it now appears, that

he disclaimed all such views and purposes: that he was cool enough

to see the iniquity of all religious deception; and just enough to

acknowledge the cruelty of it, in the present instance. If he had not

certainly known the truth of his doctrine, he would have recalled and

disowned it. He felt, in his own case, what it was to encounter death

for conscience-sake: and he knew what deaths others were to encounter

on the like grounds of persuasion. But _for the joy that was set before

him_, how could the shame and agony of that cross be endured? And, if

there be no recompence of reward, should he expose to such, or to equal

sufferings, his honest, unsuspecting, affectionate followers? The instant

moment[189], the imposed duty[190], the foreseen event[191], the upright

mind[192], the feeling heart[193], all conspire to satisfy us, that Jesus

was not, could not, be the fraudulent, that is, the insensible, the

unrelenting, the merciless inventor or publisher of a politic fable, but

a teacher of truth and righteousness sent from God.

Thus much for our Lord’s _general character_; which we shall do well to

keep in mind, when we meditate on any part of his instructions to us;

but more especially, when, for our singular comfort, we attend to his

great doctrine of a BLESSED IMMORTALITY. Our divine Master has in the

clearest and fullest terms, announced this doctrine to us; and, what is

more, he has anxiously removed the only possible doubt, which we could

have of its truth, by disclaiming the politic use, which too many others

had presumed to make of it.

II. It follows, that we may rely, with confidence, on this invaluable

promise of a future life; the only source of peace and comfort to the

mind, without which the disordered scene of this life is inexplicable to

the wisest men, and scarce supportable by the happiest; we may, I say,

rely with safety on this _glorious hope_[194] of immortality, unless

we will suppose that Jesus meant to deceive us even then, when he most

deliberately and solemnly pledged himself to us for his veracity: a

supposition, which is, in truth, as foolish as it is indecent.

Assured therefore, as we are, that our Saviour both taught this doctrine,

and taught it without the least mixture of guile or dissimulation, let us

hold fast our expectation of it to the end; and in all the troubles of

this life, whether endured for conscience-sake or not, provided only they

be such as consist _with_ a good conscience, let us reckon with certainty

on our title to one of those eternal _mansions_, of which there are so

_many in the house of our heavenly Father_; and that, for the sake and

through the merits of our LORD JESUS CHRIST; the author of our salvation,

as well as the proclaimer of it: our merciful Redeemer, at once, and

infallible Instructor; to whom be all honour, praise, and thanksgiving,

now and for ever. Amen.

SERMON XLIII.

PREACHED MAY 5, 1776.

JOHN xvi. 12, 13.

_I have yet many things to say unto you, but ye cannot bear them now.

Howbeit, when he, the Spirit of truth, shall come, he will guide you

into_ ALL TRUTH: _for he shall not speak of himself; but whatsoever he

shall hear, that shall he speak: and_ HE WILL SHEW YOU THINGS TO COME.

The works of Richard Hurd, volume 7 (of 8) · 第 9 / 19 段