CHAPTER III.

CLOSING REFLECTIONS.

THUS it has pleased our Heavenly Father to "take away from us the desire

of our eyes, with a stroke." The first impression of such a loss is that

of _amazement_--overwhelming and bewildering the soul, and with strange

horror, destroying for a time, the power to feel. "Deep calleth unto

deep--all thy waves, and billows have gone over me." Such is the abyss

of grief! At such a time, our part is "to be still"--sitting, like the

Marys, "over against the sepulchre."

When the disciples of John lost their earthly Master, "they came and

took the body, and buried it, and went and told Jesus." This ought to be

the first act of every mourner, _to tell it unto Jesus_. With him we

shall find both sympathy and support. And more than this: He resolves

the death of our friends into his own gracious sovereignty, when he

calls it, "the coming of the Son of Man." Death loses its terror when it

becomes his act of grace. "The death of his saints is precious in his

sight," and is always ordered with a supreme regard to their

blessedness, and his glory. So that the feeblest of his dying children

may confidently say, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him."

"Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no

evil; for Thou art with me."

There is a feeling about the death of our friends, which is made up in

part of unbelief, and in part of that tender regard which is produced by

their dependence on us through life. Those endearing relations which

make us their protectors, and supports, send their deep sympathies even

into the grave. Who of us that is a husband, or a parent, that does not

feel the horror of the separation aggravated by the spectacle of our

helpless kindred struggling alone in mortal strife with "the king of

terrors"? We, to whom they have always looked for succour, are then as

helpless as they, in their extremest need. We cannot even share their

agony. It is this which gives a nameless anguish to such a moment.[8]

[8] One of the most affecting scenes ever witnessed, was the death

of a little child, who, in the last moments, called on her mother

_to die with her_. This was the voice of nature. To this call the

heart would, but cannot respond. "Here our father and mother must

forsake us."

But it is because we forget that "when father and mother," and all they

most depended on in life, "forsake them, then the Lord doth take them

up." The Christian is never so little alone as on the verge of heaven.

The Lord of life is there. Underneath are the everlasting arms; and

through all the terrors of the grave; and above all the tumult of that

last hour, the Shepherd's voice is heard, saying--"IT IS I--BE NOT

AFRAID." While some pass over Jordan on the wing, and some struggle

through the waves, yet all safely pass. Not one of them shall perish,

but each appear in Zion before God.

It adds tenderness and force to these consoling hopes, that Jesus once

"tasted death himself." It moves us, that "Jesus wept." But it gives a

new nature to death, that Jesus died! For while the _merit_ of _his_

death takes the sting from ours, his presence in the tomb dispels all

its terrors. Therefore, since Jesus died, let us consent to death; and

surrender at his call those most dear to us.

The graves of all his saints he blest,

And softened every bed--

Where should the dying members rest,

But with their dying head!

It must be sweet to lie in that grave which he has hallowed by his

presence among the dead.

One of the considerations which should make us acquiesce in the removal

of our beloved friends who die in the Lord, is this--that we are

suffering for their sakes; and that they could not be blessed without

our sufferings. For their death, (the dread cause of all our grief,) was

necessary to their perfect and eternal blessedness. This thought ought

to soften every pang. If we really love them, and if our sacrifices for

them while they were here below, were the fruit of our love, then we

have only to remember that this is one prolonged, supreme sacrifice for

their sakes.--This reflection if properly pursued, would often turn our

mourning into gladness.[9] And then, if this weight of sorrow that is

laid on us may but be duly improved and meekly borne; if it may not only

mark the bliss of our friends begun on high, but be made by a wise and

good God conducive to our growth in grace--it will have in it the pledge

of our everlasting re-union in heaven; and thus be an affliction doubly

blessed.

[9] A lovely example of the power of this sentiment in subduing

grief, is given in the narrative of one of our American

missionaries. He and his fellow-labourer were alone in a barbarous

land, far away from any creature who cared for their Lord or for

them. Suddenly his friend was taken from him. In that awful moment

of desertion and anguish, after commending the parting soul to God,

and closing the eyes of the dead, _he kissed his cold lips, and

thought, "What glory has already burst upon his view!"_ In this

thought his sorrow was lost.

But the silencing, yea, elevating thought of all is, that it is _for

Jesus' sake_, we are called to suffer. "_The Master_ is come and called

for her." It is indeed the richest of our earthly treasures. Our own

life were a far lighter offering. But for that reason we honour him the

more. It is our _Isaac_ that God calls for; and it is then indeed we

honour God when we can _offer_ like Abraham. We shall receive the

offering back, if not as soon, as certainly--and at no distant day!

When, therefore, He who laid down his life for us, asks for our richest

gift, let us not call him a hard master, but give without a murmur.

The death of our friends should have the effect of bringing Heaven

nearer to us. We ought to cultivate, if we may so speak, _domestic_

views of that blessed world to which we are so much honoured as to have

sent up angels from our households. While all superstitious emotions are

carefully to be quelled, we are permitted to draw very nigh to them. We

may cherish their image in our memories and hearts; we still belong to

the same great communion--and all are members of that body of which

Jesus is the head. "As death does not separate from the Lord, neither

does it divide the saints from one another. Our spirit and theirs daily

meet at the one throne--they to praise, we to pray; therefore, in that

sense, though we are absent in body, we are present in spirit."

And the distance which lies between them and us is daily growing less.

How swiftly we travel, yea, fly, in all the speed of time! It may not be

an inappropriate close to these meditations, to insert the family hymn,

with which the remnant of a bereaved household often close the day, and

comfort each others' hearts, at the hour when we feel most desolate.

Come let us join our friends above,

That have obtained the prize;

And on the eagle wings of love,

To joy celestial rise.

Let saints below his praises sing,

With those to glory gone;

For all the servants of our King,

In heaven and earth are one.

One family, we dwell in him,

One church above, beneath:

Though now divided by the stream,

The narrow stream of death.

One army of the living God,

To his commands we bow;

Part of the host have crossed the flood,

And part are crossing now.

Ten thousand to their endless home,

This solemn moment fly;

And we are to the margin come,

And soon expect to die.

Dear Saviour, be our constant guide,

Then when the word is given,

Bid the cold waves of death divide,

And land us safe in heaven.

And now, in bringing to a close these very imperfect notices of a

beloved saint of God, it is proper to say, that much more might truly

have been added in reference to many points of her character, that would

have been proper, and interesting: as for example, her intellectual

endowments; her extensive acquirements; her domestic life; her personal

accomplishments. But we fear to indulge our feelings. Nor is it needful.

For it was her Christian character mainly which we designed to

illustrate. Her love for the Redeemer, and her sacrifices for his sake,

were the jewels which adorned her on earth, and which lose not their

lustre in death. It was the glory of all those qualities which so

eminently fitted her to attract the admiration of this world, that she

meekly laid them at the Saviour's feet. There also, we desire to leave

this humble tribute to one whose "sun went down while it was yet day,"

praying that he who thus early fitted her for heaven, may by these poor

means prolong her usefulness, and bless her memory on earth.

SUBMISSION:

A SERMON

OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF

MRS. MARGARET BRECKINRIDGE.

BY THE

REV. A. ALEXANDER, D.D.

SERMON.

PSALM XLVI. 10.

"Be still, and know that I am God."

OMITTING all critical discussion of the true import of the text, I will

consider the words as addressed by Jehovah to his own people, when

suffering affliction under the strokes of his mighty hand. It may be

considered as the language of authority; or of consolation. According to

the first view, it is as if the Almighty had said, "Be still, and

neither repine, nor rebel, for your affliction comes not from the dust,

but from me, your rightful Sovereign; to whom you owe absolute

subjection." If viewed in the sense last mentioned, then it will be as

though God, feeling compassion towards his afflicted saints, puts them

in mind of the sure refuge which they had in him; as if he had said, "Be

calm and unruffled, in the midst of all your overwhelming calamities,

for I am able to sustain you, and to deliver you by my Almighty arm."

"Be still, and know that I am God." In either case, the result, as to

our duty, is the same. Unreserved submission is the thing enjoined, and

the reason to enforce the injunction is, "_I am God_."

"Man that is born of a woman is of few days, and full of trouble. He

cometh forth as a flower, and is cut down: he fleeth also as a shadow,

and continueth not. His days are determined: the number of his years are

with thee; thou hast appointed his bounds, that he cannot pass." No

condition in this life is exempt from trouble. No bulwarks can be

erected by kings and princes, strong enough, and high enough, to be a

safeguard against the shafts of adversity. In regard to this matter, the

rich and the poor stand very much upon a level. "Man is born unto

trouble as the sparks fly upward." Hence, this life has justly been

denominated, "the vale of tears." Uninterrupted bliss cannot be found

beneath the skies. The righteous are not exempt, but many are their

afflictions. Besides a participation in the common lot of humanity, they

have troubles peculiar to themselves. The dispensations of God towards

his own people, are, indeed, in covenant love and faithfulness, but they

are not calculated to encourage them to take up their rest in this

world, but to render their path so thorny, and their bed so uneasy, that

they are continually admonished of their duty to set their affections on

things above, and to press forward as pilgrims to the possession of

their heavenly inheritance.

The reasons which should persuade us to exercise unreserved and

uncomplaining submission to the will of God, as manifested in the

dispensations of his wise and righteous Providence, are at the same

time obvious and weighty. But, here, as in other cases, theory and

practice are very different things. On this subject, we all can teach

and inculcate what is right; but when it becomes necessary to practise

our own lessons, we experience a sad deficiency. This is a school in

which, sooner or later, we must all be learners; and it behoves us to

use diligence in preparing ourselves to endure trials with fortitude,

and cheerfully to acquiesce in those painful events, which we cannot

avoid. Some persons, when overtaken by severe strokes of adversity, are,

like the bullock unaccustomed to the yoke, restive and rebellious; they

resist the hand which presses them, and struggle to throw off the yoke.

Such a course is altogether unwise, and must be unsuccessful. "Wo to him

that striveth with his Maker. Let the potsherds strive with the

potsherds of the earth," but let not a feeble, sinful worm rise up in

rebellion against the Almighty; for who hath hardened himself against

him and hath prospered? And when there is no open rebellion, there is

often a spirit of discontent and murmuring, which, though smothered in

the breast, partakes of the nature of rebellion, and is the very

opposite of cordial, filial submission. Every degree of this temper,

whether concealed or expressed, is exceedingly offensive to God, as we

learn from his word, and is so far from mitigating the evils which we

suffer, that it doubles their pressure; it makes even a light burthen

intolerable.

Others again, endeavour to form habits of hardy insensibility; they seek

refuge from the keen arrows of affliction, in a stoical indifference.

They affect to contemn, as weak, and wanting in fortitude, all those who

seem to suffer exquisitely under the strokes of adversity. Much

practical progress never can be made in this unnatural system. Whatever

men may profess or pretend, nature will assert her claims, and if her

feelings may be for a season suspended, she will again resume her sway;

and indeed the equanimity acquired by these principles, has been more in

appearance than reality; and the greatest adepts in eradicating the

susceptibilities of our nature, have only learned the art of

successfully concealing the emotions of their bosoms from the

observation of others.

But while some endeavour to obtain relief by rendering themselves

insensible to the calamities of life, and aim at braving the storms of

adversity, there are others, who err on the opposite extreme. Under the

chastising hand of God, they are prostrated in the dust; not in

humility, but in despondency; their sorrow not only casts them down, but

overwhelms them. They find themselves sinking in deep waters, where

there is no standing. Such persons not only put away all hope, but cease

from all exertion, and abandon themselves to grief; forgetting the

exhortation which speaketh unto them as to children, "My son, despise

not thou the chastening of the Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked of

him."

There is but one effectual remedy for the evils to which man is heir,

while on his earthly pilgrimage; and that is RELIGION--true religion,

not merely apprehended and approved in its theory, but deeply felt, and

cordially embraced in the inmost soul. This is the only principle of

sufficient potency to tranquillize the perturbations of the soul when

deeply afflicted. This only can sustain the mind, ready to sink into

despair. This furnishes the only medicine which heals the anguish of the

broken heart; the only balm which relieves the wounds made in the spirit

by painful bereavements. Here the superlative value of true religion is

realized; and this principle of heavenly origin is found to possess a

power, not only to sustain the soul under the heaviest pressure of

affliction, but to pour sweet consolations into the desolate and

troubled heart. Here, indeed, is opened a fountain of refreshing

streams, in the midst of this dreary wilderness, of which the poor

heathen had no knowledge, and of which the men of the world are still

ignorant.

These blessed effects of genuine piety are not produced by any

irrational process, or blind impulse; but by the contemplation of truths

adapted to the end. Consolations which do not rest on this firm

foundation, will ever be found precarious, and commonly evanescent.

Buoyant hope and cheerful resignation must have the solid pillar of

truth on which to repose. It will therefore be consonant to our present

purpose, to bring more distinctly into view, some of those important

doctrines, the practical belief of which leads to the exercise of

Christian submission.

That which lies at the foundation of the whole, is, that God exists, and

governs all events by his providence. Whatever men profess, or

speculatively believe, as it relates to the actual presence and

operative providence of God, there is undoubtedly much practical atheism

in the hearts of men. Most feel and act as if there was no God, and as

if all things happened by chance. This is remarkably manifest when they

are suddenly cast down into deep affliction. They recognise not the hand

that smites them. They seem to think, that affliction cometh from the

dust, and that trouble springeth out of the ground. In all their bitter

lamentations, their views extend no farther than to the proximate causes

of their distress; and they often experience the bitterest regret,

because they did not pursue a different course, or make use of different

means from what they did; although with the knowledge possessed, they

could not have done better. Under the same short-sighted views, they are

prone to censure others who have had an innocent instrumentality in

bringing about the events by which they are distressed. All this arises

from the want of faith in Divine Providence; and too much of this

unbelief cleaves to the pious themselves, and greatly aggravates their

calamities. But when their faith in the being and providence of God is

strong, they see his hand in every thing good and evil, which occurs;

they behold him operating through all nature, and giving efficacy to all

second causes; and are as fully persuaded that he directs the fall of a

sparrow, as the overthrow of a kingdom. This doctrine of an universal

and particular Providence, is the foundation of our trust in God, for

security and sustenance. How beautifully did Christ teach this lesson to

his disciples, when he said, "Behold the fowls of the air, for they sow

not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly

Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they? And why take ye

thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow;

they toil not, neither do they spin; and yet I say unto you, that even

Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore,

if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to-day is, and to-morrow

is cast into the oven, shall He not much more clothe you, O ye of little

faith?"

When the dark and cloudy day of adversity, or the long and tempestuous

night comes upon us--when our comforts are suddenly blasted, and our

brightest earthly prospects are obscured, then, instead of repining or

desponding, we should betake ourselves to the doctrine of an overruling

Providence. The dispensation may be dark, and afflictive, and even

profoundly mysterious; yet we should think, it is God that hath done it.

These are his footsteps. This is the operation of his hand. He it is,

"who formeth the light and createth the darkness; that maketh peace, and

createth evil." The more, in such circumstances, we look beyond all

creatures, and second causes, and fix our thoughts and our faith, on God

alone, the sooner shall we find composure of mind. If we fully believe

that God is in the storm, and that it is his voice which is heard in the

thunder, and his face which is seen in the flashing of the lightning,

the less shall we be terrified with the apprehension of unknown dangers.

But we are permitted to know not only that God governs all human affairs

by his Providence, but also that his dispensations, as it relates to his

own people, are all ordered in wisdom, in faithfulness, and in love. The

doctrine of Providence can bring no true consolation to any who are

unreconciled to God. They may know that it is his rod by which they are

smitten, but they cannot tell but his strokes are those of vindicatory

justice, and only a prelude to more intolerable pains. Before we can

repose with confidence and comfort on the faithfulness, wisdom, and

goodness of the Divine dispensations, we must possess some evidence that

our sins are pardoned and our persons accepted; for the more perfect

the Divine government, the more certainly will punishment pursue the

guilty. Our cheerful resignation to the afflictions of life, is

therefore, closely connected with our justification through the merits

of the Lord Jesus Christ. While we contemplate our own sins and

imperfections only, we can entertain no other feeling, than a fearful

looking for of wrath; but when with the spirit of adoption we can look

up to our heavenly Father's reconciled face, we need not be alarmed nor

cast down, under the heaviest afflictions which befall us. We know that

he doth not willingly afflict his beloved children, but out of love

chastises them for their greater good, that they may become in a higher

degree, partakers of his holiness. They are assured, therefore, that all

these painful events shall be so overruled, as to work for their good.

And the Holy Scriptures clearly teach, that although these chastisements

are, for the present, not joyous, but grievous, yet, hereafter, they

will produce in them who are exercised thereby, the peaceable fruits of

righteousness. They eminently conduce to wean the affections from this

vain world, to humble the spirit in the dust under a sense of

unworthiness, and to excite an ardent spirit of prayer. It is, moreover,

by a severe but salutary discipline of this kind, that saints are made

meet for the heavenly inheritance. And not only so, but these temporary

afflictions, somehow or other, will have a direct efficiency in

increasing their future felicity and glory, according to that remarkable

declaration of Paul, "These light afflictions which are but for a

moment, work out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of

glory." It is not surprising, therefore, that God who loves his people

with an unchangeable love, should visit them with the rod. It is the

method which he takes to purge out their dross and their tin. Affliction

is therefore compared to a furnace, in which the precious metals are

assayed and purified. Thus Peter comforts suffering Christians in his

time:

"Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to

try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you; but rejoice,

inasmuch as ye are partakers of Christ's sufferings, that when his glory

shall be revealed, ye may be glad also with exceeding joy." Again: "That

the trial of your faith being much more precious than gold that

purifieth though it be tried with fire, might be found unto peace, and

honour, and glory, at the appearing of Jesus Christ."

In the testimony just cited, there is another interesting reason

suggested for the affliction of Christ's disciples. And it is one which

must be touching to the hearts of all who truly love their Lord. It is,

that as he was pre-eminently "the man of sorrows," there is a congruity

in their participating in suffering, that in this respect, as in

others, they may be conformed to his example. Paul also makes express

and repeated mention of the same thing. "If children, then heirs of God,

and joint heirs with Christ, if so be that we suffer with him, that we

may also be glorified together." He speaks of this communion with Christ

in suffering, as a characteristic of discipleship, and as a high

privilege, "Always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord

Jesus."--"For unto you it is given in the behalf of Christ, not only to

believe on him, but also to suffer for his sake." Christians, therefore,

in primitive times, gloried in their severest sufferings. And now, no

consideration is more efficacious in fortifying the believer against

fainting than the idea of the sufferings of Christ for us. It would seem

that they who have been privileged to endure nothing for Christ's sake,

would scarcely be admitted to reign with him in glory.

And as we should endeavour, while in the world, to glorify God to the

utmost of our power, by letting the light of a holy example shine forth,

so there is no situation in which piety appears to greater advantage,

than when exercised in deep affliction. What disposition can be

conceived as possessing more moral beauty, than the grace enjoined in

our text; _cheerful, quiet submission to the will of our heavenly

Father_, under the heaviest pressure of his hand. And as we all are

conscious that there is yet much impurity and dross cleaving to our

nature, we should rejoice in being subjected to a process, though it be

a fiery one, by which we might be more and more purified from sin.

Indeed, we cannot do without this salutary discipline: our salvation,

probably, depends upon our sufferings as a means of conservation in a

state of grace. We ought not, therefore, "to think it strange concerning

the fiery trial, which is to try us, as though some strange thing

happened to us; but should rather rejoice, inasmuch as we are partakers

of Christ's sufferings, that when his glory shall be revealed, we may be

glad with exceeding joy."

"Be still, and know that I am God." Be calm and submissive; be not

alarmed nor perturbed; let your resignation to the Divine will be

unreserved and cheerful. Seize the occasion, which severe afflictions

offer, to show your entire willingness that God should govern and

dispose of you and yours according to his own sovereign will. He is

wise, and knows how to order every thing for the best. He is powerful,

and can bring light out of darkness, and good out of evil. He is

faithful, and will certainly fulfil all his gracious promises. He is

good and merciful, and will consult the best interests of his children

in all his dealings towards them; and even those events which seem to be

most adverse, he will so temper and overrule, that ultimately, and

relatively, they will be made to work for their good.

Under sore and unexpected bereavements, the human heart will bleed; and

the susceptible feelings will be lacerated, and the gush of sorrow will

have its course; but grace comes in and suggests considerations which

ought to moderate our grief; and to teach us to be quietly submissive to

the hand of the Almighty. It is a blessed state, when the feelings of

the man are absorbed in the nobler feelings of the Christian; when our

will is swallowed up in the will of God. What He doeth we know not now,

but we shall know hereafter. It will not be long until we shall be able

to see, "that he hath done all things well."

In the recent mournful dispensation of Divine Providence, we see how

many hearts may be wounded, and how many joys withered, by a single

stroke. In this interesting group of mourners, we behold the aged

parents weeping over the lifeless body of a much loved, and very lovely

daughter. They have lived to witness the premature departure of one,

whom they might naturally have expected to be a comfort to them in their

declining years, and to wipe from their foreheads the cold drops, in a

dying hour. Parental bereavements admit of less alleviation, than

others, from earthly considerations. The friends and comforts which,

late in life, we lose, we cannot hope to have made up to us. And,

sometimes, the parents of a numerous offspring are preserved so long,

that they survive all, or most of their children; and they stand, like

aged trees, which, by successive storms, have been stripped of their

foliage and branches. But, although bereaved parents cannot draw much

consolation, under their afflictions, from this world; yet the rich

consolations of the Gospel are accessible to them, and peculiarly

appropriate to their condition. The pious do not know how to appreciate

the promises of God rightly, until, in the hour of affliction, they are

made to experience their power and sweetness. We cannot blame these

parents for mourning the loss of a first born and very amiable daughter;

but we trust that they now find support and comfort in that God on whose

Almighty arm they have long trusted. They have not now for the first

time, to learn the riches of that grace which is treasured up in Christ

Jesus; and may they be enabled to come now to that fountain of mercy, by

the streams of which they have been so often refreshed and comforted,

under former trials!

The grief of affectionate brothers and sisters also, flows this day, in

a strong current. They feel as if a part of themselves had been taken

away; and yet they can scarcely realize the extent of their calamity. It

often requires time for grief to become rooted in the soul. The first

gush of sorrow from the bleeding heart, is indeed a more sensible

emotion, but the full value of our loss is not felt, until after serious

reflection. It is a painful thing to be separated from those around

whom our earliest and tenderest affections were entwined. The thought of

never again, in this world, seeing a face, from which always the most

benignant affections beamed upon us, cannot but leave a melancholy and

heart-sinking impression. Who can adequately describe the anguish

produced by the sudden severance of hearts, long cemented in the bands

of the tenderest affection! But, though nature will be obeyed, and the

floods of sorrow cannot be altogether restrained, yet there is a

Christian duty incumbent on those placed in these circumstances. The

command does not say, that we should not weep, but that we should not

sorrow as those that have no hope. Christians are not divested of the

common sensibilities of humanity; but they possess principles much

higher than mere humanity, by which they moderate their passions, and by

which the stream of natural sorrow may be sanctified, and turned into

that of "godly sorrow, which worketh a repentance not to be repented

of."

But among the weeping mourners, on this sad occasion, I see some, who

though deeply affected, can scarcely be supposed capable, on account of

their tender age, of estimating the irreparable loss which they have

sustained. I call the loss of a mother _irreparable_; because, however

many affectionate friends may stand ready to do all in their power to

supply a mother's place; yet, the assiduity, forbearance, and

tenderness, so requisite in the treatment of young children, can be

expected in perfection from nothing but that affection, which the

Creator has deeply implanted in the hearts of mothers. To those who have

had long experience in the world, there are few ideas more affecting

than that of _a motherless child_. But orphaned, as these dear little

ones are, by the loss of one parent, they are, I may say, on this

account, more peculiarly the care of a covenant God, whose promise

extends not only to believers, but to their seed, and whose kind care

extends especially to such children of the faithful, as have been

bereaved of one or both parents. These dear children, we confidently

trust will be the objects not merely of God's common goodness, but of

his special grace; and after spending a life of usefulness in acts of

piety and beneficence, will enjoy the blessed privilege of regaining

their beloved mother, in the mansions of glory, where sickness, death,

and tears, will be known no more.

In addressing the interesting group of mourners now before me, I

perceive one, whose griefs are too big for utterance, and whose swelling

bosom cannot be soothed, at this time, by any of the common topics of

consolation. An officious intrusion into the sacred recess of such

indescribable sorrows, only serves to exacerbate, rather than mitigate

the wounded spirit. All that the kindest friends can do, in such a case,

is to let their warmest, tenderest sympathies fall in with the tide of

overwhelming grief, which rejects all consolation. "Weep with them that

weep." There is another thing which we can do, and that far more

important, we can pray for our afflicted and bereaved brother. In such

circumstances, prayer is almost our only refuge; for all our help must

come from God. While the voice of man is powerless to afford relief,

there is ONE who causes his voice to be heard even in the midst of the

tempest. And his authoritative, his affectionate language to our beloved

brother is, "_Be still, and know that I am God_." "God is our refuge and

strength, a very present help in trouble." It is somewhere related of

that eminently pious reformer, Luther, that when he fell into any great

trouble, he was wont to say to his friends, "Come, let us sing the

forty-sixth psalm."

A striking example of uncomplaining submission we have in the good old

priest Eli, who, when informed that God was about to bring such

judgments on his house, as would cause the ears of every one that heard

them to tingle; meekly replied, "It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth

him good."

And the patriarch Job, when deprived of all his property, and of all his

children, humbled himself and worshipped God, saying--"The Lord gave,

and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord." "What,

shall we receive good from the hand of the LORD, and shall we not

receive evil?"

When Jesus visited the mourning family of Bethany, who were among his

dearest friends, he did not say to the afflicted sisters, weep not--but

the compassionate Redeemer united his tears with theirs; for it is

written, "Jesus wept." These were indeed only the tears of sympathy, for

it was in his benevolent purpose to restore the deceased brother to his

disconsolate sisters. Here also, we have a striking illustration of the

truth, that God's children are ignorant often of his kind designs, when

he permits sore afflictions to come upon them; "If thou hadst been

here," said both the weeping sisters, "my brother had not died." Their

regret was keen, and unmitigated by any known circumstance; but in one

short hour, they were, no doubt, glad that their Lord was not

there--they rejoiced that their beloved brother had died; because the

glory of God and the power of the Redeemer had now been manifested.

Indeed, a gracious visit from Jesus will turn our bitterest sorrows into

joy. His name--his word--his grace--has a mighty power to calm the

swelling surges of overwhelming sorrow. He can say, as he did to the

raging storm, "Peace, be still," and there will be a great calm. Were it

not for thoughts of God--of his providence, and promises, and of the

seasonable and effectual aid of his grace, grief would often drown the

soul in perdition; as it often does work death in the heathen, and in

the men of the world, who are without God, and without hope.

It would be in place here to speak of our dear departed sister, whose

loss we now mourn; but this task will hereafter be better performed by

another hand. And to this audience little need be said; for she was

brought up among you from her childhood, and enjoyed the affectionate

regards of this community in no common degree, as is manifest by the

general and tender sympathy felt on this occasion. By her sweet

simplicity, engaging vivacity, affectionate temper, and affable manners,

our beloved friend endeared herself to her acquaintances and neighbours,

wherever she resided. And in regard to her Christian character, she

adorned her profession by a consistent life and conversation, in all the

relations which she sustained.

Her latter end was calm and peaceful. She felt some dread of the pangs

of dissolution; but in regard to what comes after death, she had no

fear--her hope continued firm and her prospects bright to the last

moment.

It is always a cause of lively gratitude, when God is pleased to sustain

his dear children in passing through "the valley of the shadow of

death." It affords to mourning friends the sweetest consolation which

could be received under such sore bereavements. This consolation of our

benignant Father has not been withheld in the present instance. Mourning

friends are permitted to rejoice in the midst of their overflowing

sorrow, in the confident hope, that the departed spirit of our dear

sister, free from all sin and pain, rests sweetly in the love and

beatified vision of her divine Redeemer.

"BLESSED ARE THE DEAD THAT DIE IN THE LORD, FROM HENCEFORTH; YEA, SAITH

THE SPIRIT, THAT THEY MAY REST FROM THEIR LABOURS; AND THEIR WORKS DO

FOLLOW THEM."

LETTERS

OF

A GRANDFATHER,

TO THE SURVIVING CHILDREN OF

MRS. MARGARET BRECKINRIDGE.

BY THE

REV. SAMUEL MILLER, D. D.

PART II.

LETTERS

OF

A GRANDFATHER.

LETTER I.

INTRODUCTORY.

MY DEAR GRANDCHILDREN:--The decease of your beloved and lamented Mother,

has placed both you and me in circumstances of great solemnity and

responsibility. To be deprived of a mother's care and counsel at the

tender age at which she left you, is indeed a loss which no human

arithmetic can estimate; especially to be deprived of _such_ a mother,

one so well qualified by strength of intellect, by sincere piety, and by

peculiar loveliness of character, to be a blessing to you, for time and

eternity, is a bereavement of which, even now, I know not how to speak

without emotions too strong for utterance. While this precious Parent

lived, she seemed to interpose between your beloved grandmother and

myself, and any immediate responsibility in regard to your education;

but now that she is removed, we seem to be brought, in the mysterious

and mournful Providence of God, to stand in some measure in her place,

and to perform some of the most important duties which she owed to her

children. And, although your surviving Parent is eminently fitted, both

by nature and grace, to be a guide to your youth; yet, as he is engaged,

and is likely for some time to be engaged, in active, arduous, and

extended labours for the Church of God, which will probably separate him

from you often and much for a considerable time;--an additional

responsibility on our part seems to grow out of every circumstance.

It is under these impressions that I now address you. Your grandparents

are drawing near to the end of their course. They must soon leave you in

a depraved and ensnaring world. What they do for your benefit, they must

do quickly. As one placed in these tender and endearing relations to

you, and in these solemn circumstances, allow me to pour out the fulness

of a heart most earnestly engaged for your welfare, and desiring more

ardently than I am able to express, to see you walking in truth and

happiness, and embalming by your conduct, as well as by your affection,

the memory of that blessed Parent, who, if she is ever permitted from

her high and holy abode, to look down on those whom she has left behind,

will rejoice to see you making choice of that path which leads to the

same blessedness.

There are two considerations, beloved grandchildren, which, I think, you

will all agree, entitle me to expect from you a respectful and

affectionate attention to what I have to offer in these letters. The

_first_ is, that I have lived a long and somewhat eventful life; and, of

course, my range of _experience_ has not been small. In my three-score

and tenth year, I have had an opportunity of following many young people

from the cradle to the grave. I have seen the training, the subsequent

course, and the end of thousands. Need I say, that the lessons derived

from such experience are not unworthy of your regard? O, if you could

start in your career with that practical knowledge of the vanity, the

snares, and the sufferings of the world, which has come to me through

the medium of many a melancholy sight, and many a painful conflict, how

great would be the advantage! But this cannot be. Happy were it for you,

if you were willing to profit as you might from the experience of

others. But neither can this be expected, in ordinary cases, to be

realized. I cannot, however, admit the thought, that you will be willing

to reject this teaching altogether.

The _second_ claim which I have on your attention is, my ardent and

affectionate desire to promote your happiness. You cannot suspect me of

any sinister design in what I have to say. This would be to suppose me

capable of "hating my own flesh." No, dear children, I have no desire to

damp the sanguine joy, or cloud the smiling sun of your youth. I would

not take from you a single rational pleasure. On the contrary, I delight

to see you happy; and desire, by all the means in my power to promote

your true enjoyment and honour. But you must allow me now, in my old

age, when I have seen so much of the illusions of the world, and so many

examples of the destruction of those who yielded to them, to counsel

you, not in the style of youthful flattery, but in the language of

"truth and soberness." You will find nothing in these letters intended

to carry a point by overpainting, or by any other artifice. If you have

a real disinterested friend on earth, who unfeignedly wishes to promote

your best interest in both worlds, it is he who now addresses you. I

shall not give a counsel or an injunction, but what I verily believe

your precious Mother, if she were permitted to speak from the bosom of

her Saviour, would ratify with all her heart.

You will observe that some of my counsels have a respect to objects

beyond the period of childhood, which you now occupy. The truth is, I

expect soon to leave you. Probably long before any of you shall reach

adult age. Of course, I feel that what I have to say at all, had better

be said _now_. I may have no other opportunity. Besides, one of the

great truths which I wish to impress upon your minds is, that you are,

even at your present age, sowing the all important seeds of a future

harvest of good or evil. You will not find a single habit or attainment

recommended in the following pages, which, if you are ever to gain it,

you will not find an advantage in having calculated and prepared for, as

far as possible, at the earliest age. The earlier you begin to imbibe

good principles, and lay good plans, the better will it be for all the

future.

Let me entreat you, then, to receive with all the affection and docility

of dutiful children, the counsels of one who, while he writes, looks up

to "Him who has the residue of the Spirit," that what is rightly said,

may be impressed upon your hearts, and made to bring forth precious

fruit, to your happiness, and to the glory of his holy name!

LETTER II.

HUMAN NATURE.

DEAR CHILDREN:--On all important subjects there are certain great facts

which must be regarded as fundamental; as lying at the foundation of all

truth, and all duty. I feel that this is peculiarly the case in regard

to the counsels which I am about to give you concerning your course in

life. Among these fundamental facts are the depravity, the misery, and

the numberless temptations of the world in which you live; the depravity

of your own nature, ever ready to be attracted by the allurements and

corruptions of the world; and your consequent need of the grace of God,

at every step, for your guidance, protection, and deliverance. And until

you know and feel, and in some degree lay to heart, that the world in

which you live is a fallen, depraved world; that its habitual maxims and

ways are hostile to your best interests; that you are yourselves, by

nature, miserable sinners, standing in need of pardoning mercy, and

sanctifying grace; and that you are every day exposed to snares and

perils, from the joint influence of a depraved nature and a corrupt

world;--until you have learned, in some good measure, to recognise these

facts; to dwell upon them daily and hourly; and to receive the lessons

which they are adapted to teach; you are not prepared even to _begin_

life. You are not prepared to meet or encounter the most common scenes,

much less the more formidable dangers which are likely to beset your

path every day that you live. But the moment you are brought to admit

these humbling, momentous truths; to feel their reality; and to consider

and treat them in some degree according to their practical importance;

then, and not till then, may we hope you will be ready to make a proper

estimate of the world; to guard against its allurements; to ponder well

what you need for securing your true happiness; and to implore that

divine aid which is necessary if you desire, in such circumstances, to

perform any duty aright. And, therefore, when I see young people

apparently forgetful of the character of their own hearts, and of the

world in which they live; thinking that all is gold that glitters; and

imagining that they can safely trust to their own wisdom and strength in

every situation, I regard them as objects of the deepest commiseration,

and as wholly unqualified for either the duties or the best enjoyments

of life.

Know, then, dear children, and remember, that you belong to an apostate

race; that we are all, according to the declaration of God's own word,

"born in sin," and "shapen in iniquity;" that we are "by nature the

children of wrath;" that our native propensities are all of them

corrupt; opposed to God; impelling us to habits and practices forbidden

by his law, and unfriendly to our best interest. Remember, too, that, so

far from being able to trust your own hearts to resist the temptations

around you, and to guide you aright, they are all naturally inclined to

that which is evil, and disposed to take side with the vanities and

corruptions of the world. So that there is constant need of self-denial;

of imposing restraints upon all our appetites and passions; and of

submitting, especially in early life, to the counsels of the wise and

the good, who have gone before us in the journey of life, and have had

more experience than ourselves of its temptations and dangers.

Hence it is, that so large a part of religion is represented in

Scripture as consisting in opposing our own corrupt inclinations; in

"crucifying the flesh with the affections and lusts;" in constant

efforts to bring down pride and vanity; to mortify our evil

propensities; "to keep under the body;" to "rule our own spirits;" and,

in general, to gain the victory over ourselves. All these expressions

imply that the course of true wisdom is a warfare with evil; that our

most formidable enemies are within; and that resisting our own corrupt

nature is at once the most constant, and the most serious part of our

duty as accountable creatures.

Nor is this all. Not only is our nature corrupt; not only are we from

our very birth, prone to evil "as the sparks fly upward;" but we are

also by nature under condemnation. In the language of that incomparable

Catechism, with which you have been familiar from lisping infancy--and

every doctrine of which, as I believe, is drawn from the Bible--"All

mankind by their fall lost communion with God, are under his wrath and

curse, and so made liable to all the miseries of this life, to death

itself, and to the pains of hell forever."

Such is the condition of our race by nature. Not only depraved and

unworthy, but guilty, condemned, and perishing; not only in _danger_ of

being forever lost; but already under a sentence of death, unless

rescued from it by the power and grace of the Saviour. All the posterity

of Adam are by nature, "dead in trespasses and sins," having no

resources within themselves for regaining the favour and image of God.

"The carnal mind is enmity against God; it is not in subjection to the

law of God, neither indeed can be." So that, left to ourselves, we

should infallibly go on in sin to eternal, merited, and hopeless

destruction.

Here you are, then, dear children, in a revolted, polluted, lost world,

where the vast majority of the population is in open rebellion against

God; where the prevailing habits and maxims are selfish, carnal, and

opposed to all that is truly and spiritually good; where, if you fall

in, and continue to go with the prevailing current, you are inevitably

and eternally lost; where your only safety consists in renouncing the

world, its idols, its master, and its hopes; in "crucifying the flesh

with its affections and lusts; in resisting the fashions and allurements

which reign around you; and taking refuge in that Saviour, who came to

seek and to save that which was lost." Such are the temptations and

perils with which you are constantly and every where surrounded; and

such your only refuge. And, what greatly adds to your danger is, that if

the representation which I have given be correct, your own hearts are

naturally disposed to take the side of the enemy, and to betray you into

his toils and his power. So that you are like persons travelling in an

enemies' country, and liable every moment to be taken in some insidious

and fatal snare, and whose own inclinations to yield to the enemy are

among their greatest dangers. These are the humbling facts which it

behoves you constantly to keep in view, and to regard as the great

practical index of all your plans, resolutions, and efforts, as long as

you live.

And as you can never be truly wise until you learn the corruption of

your own nature, and how indispensably you need pardoning mercy,

sanctifying grace, and unceasing guidance and help from on high; so you

are not prepared to begin your intercourse with a corrupt world, until

you have learned to appreciate the real character of human nature as it

appears in all the walks of social life. The young, anterior to

experience--and indeed many, long after experience ought to have taught

them otherwise--are too ready to put confidence in the professions and

arts of men. They are apt to believe the flattering tongue; to rely on

plausible promises; to trust heartless professions of attachment; to

repose confidence in civilities never meant to be accepted; and to

expect much from protestations of kindness, and assurances of

friendship--all dictated by the merest selfishness, and never intended

to be fulfilled. Rely on it, dear children, you live in a cold, selfish,

heartless world. Its civilities are hollow; its promises are deceitful;

its flatteries are insidious; its most splendid attractions are

delusive. Expect little from the warmest professions, and be very

backward to avail yourselves of the most fervent proffers of friendship.

I am far, indeed, from recommending a misanthropic suspicion of every

body. Your parents and grandparents ought to be the last persons in the

world to indulge or recommend such a spirit. They have been so happy as

to enjoy friendships sincere, disinterested, active, and unwearied,

never to be forgotten. For these they would be thankful, and enjoin it

upon you never to forget such precious friends. But remember, that

social confidence is a plant of slow growth; that there are few cases in

which it can be safely indulged; that where it exists, great care ought

to be taken not to abuse it by laying too much upon it; and that, while

you ought to receive all expressions of civility and respect with a

suitable acknowledgment, nothing can be more unwise and unsafe in such

a world as this, than to trust indiscriminately to the professions and

promises of men.

If such be our deplorable circumstances, as a race, and as individuals,

then we need deliverance. We need salvation. To this great subject I

would next entreat your attention.

LETTER III.

THE WAY OF SALVATION.

DEAR CHILDREN:--Salvation is a word often on your lips, and on the lips

of many around you. The truly pious look forward to it with humble,

joyful hope. And those who have no piety, and even the profane and

profligate often speak of it as something which they desire and

anticipate. But what is SALVATION? The very expression presupposes that

we are all by nature in a state from which we need to be _delivered_ or

_saved_. We never apply this term to any but those who are in danger of

being _lost_. When a man is drowning, or in the utmost peril of death in

any form, and by the interposition of some benevolent and active friend,

is rescued, we say he is _saved_. Now in a similar sense is the term

used in the case before us. The salvation of man implies that he is, by

nature not only in _danger_, but in a _lost_ and _perishing_ condition.

Accordingly I told you, my dear children, in the preceding letter, that

our whole race, and you among the rest, are, by nature in a state of

guilt, depravity, and misery; that we are fallen creatures; under

condemnation; exposed to the wrath and curse of God; liable not only to

natural death, but also exposed to all the terrors of eternal death,

that is, of eternal separation from the presence of the Lord, and the

glory of his power, unless delivered, or, in other words, _saved_ by the

interposition of some mighty and merciful deliverer. Such a great

Deliverer has appeared to save sinners of our race;--to "put away sin by

the sacrifice of himself." And now, the word of God assures us, that

there is "no other name given under heaven among men whereby we can be

saved, but the name of Jesus Christ."

It is my earnest desire, dear children, to open this way of salvation to

your minds, and to recommend it to your serious and solemn attention.

Believe me, "it is not a vain thing for you, it is even your life."

Unless you are, by the grace of God made partakers of this great

salvation, it "had been better for you that you had not been born."

By the salvation revealed in the Gospel is meant, delivering us from all

the ruins of the fall--from the condemnation of sin and the power of

sin--restoring us to the favour and image of God--and bringing us to the

everlasting enjoyment of his presence in heaven. This is salvation. Now

I wish to show you how this great and blessed result is accomplished by

the undertaking and work of Jesus Christ, whom we are accustomed, on

that account, to denominate, with emphasis, our SAVIOUR.

Man was made upright; in full possession of all the powers necessary to

perfect moral agency, and with all the dispositions which prompted to a

perfectly correct use of those powers. But "man being in honour abode

not." He rebelled against God. He violated the covenant under which he

was placed, and became liable to the dreadful penalty which it denounced

against transgression. In this fall of our first parents we are all

sharers. "In Adam," says the apostle, "all die." "By one man's

disobedience," he again declares, "many were made sinners." We have all

totally lost our original righteousness; so that there is now, by

nature, "none righteous, no not one." In short, we have all become

guilty and polluted before God, and incapable of regaining his image or

his favour by any merit or doings of our own. How, then are we to be

delivered from these deplorable circumstances? How shall we escape that

perdition which is the just reward of sin? "How can we escape the

damnation of hell?" How can any be saved? God cannot set aside his own

law, or permit his authority and majesty, as a righteous Governor, to be

trampled under foot. To "clear the guilty;" to take impenitent rebels

into the arms of his love, would be to "deny himself." Where, then, is

our refuge? Must we sit down in despair, and say, "There is no hope?"

No, by no means. A God of infinite wisdom, power, and love, has devised

and proclaimed a wonderful plan by which sin was punished while the

sinner is pardoned; by which justice is completely satisfied, while

mercy is extended to the guilty and vile; by which "grace reigns through

righteousness, unto eternal life, by Jesus Christ our Lord."

This wonderful and glorious plan of mercy consisted in the Father giving

his own Son to obey, suffer, and die in our stead, as our substitute;

and in the Son consenting to bear the penalty of the law for us; to put

away our sin by the sacrifice of himself; and to bring in an everlasting

righteousness for our justification. Yes, dear children, however coldly

an unbelieving world may receive the amazing annunciation, the Lord

Jesus Christ, the eternal Son of God, condescended, in his wonderful

love, to assume our nature; to take the place of the guilty and the

perishing; and to become the victim of Divine justice in their stead.

His language, in the eternal counsel of peace, was, "Let me suffer

instead of the guilty. Let me die to save them. Deliver them from going

down to the pit; I will be their ransom." This wonderful, this

unparalleled offer was accepted. The Father was well pleased for the

righteousness sake of his Son. He accepted it as the price of our

pardon; as that on account of which all who repent and believe should be

justified. So that the Scriptures may well say concerning the

Saviour--_He is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that

believeth. He is the Lord our righteousness. He was wounded for our

transgressions; he was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of

our peace was upon him; and by his stripes we are healed. He bare our

sins in his own body on the tree. He died the just for the unjust, that

he might bring us to God. He delivered us from the curse of the law,

being made a curse for us._

Here then, dear children, is the way, and the only way of a sinner's

acceptance with God. In virtue of the covenant of redemption, the

righteousness of Christ, or what he did and suffered on our behalf, is

placed to the account of his people, _as if_ they had performed it in

their own persons. Though sinful and unworthy in themselves, God is

pleased to pardon and accept them as righteous in his sight, only for

the righteousness sake of his beloved Son. I am aware, indeed, that some

who speak much of "the merits of Christ," and profess to rely entirely

on those merits, represent the whole subject in a very different light.

They suppose that in consideration of the sufferings and death of our

blessed Saviour, the old, original law of God, requiring perfect

obedience, is repealed, and a _mitigated law_ now prescribed as the rule

of our obedience. So that now, under the Christian dispensation, a

perfect obedience is not even required, but only an imperfect one,

accommodated to our fallen condition and our many infirmities. But

still, they insist, that this imperfect obedience is the meritorious

ground of our acceptance with God; and, of course, that eternal life is

the purchase of our own obedience. In short, the doctrine of these

errorists is, that the benefit conferred by the sufferings and death of

Christ, consists, not in providing an entire righteousness for us, but

only in abating the demands of the law; in bringing down the divine

requisitions more to a level with our ability; and still enabling us,

low as we have fallen, to be the purchasers of salvation by our own

works.

Be assured, dear children, this view of the subject is a grievous

departure from the Scriptural doctrine concerning the way of salvation.

The Bible represents our pardon and acceptance with God as not founded,

in any respect, or in any degree, on our own obedience; but as wholly of

grace--as a mere unmerited gift, bestowed solely on account of what the

Redeemer has done as our substitute and surety. It represents the holy

law of God as remaining in all its original strictness without repeal or

mitigation; and as falling with the whole weight of its penalty on all

the impenitently guilty. But it declares that penalty to be removed from

those who repent and believe the Gospel, not on account of any

worthiness in themselves, as the meritorious ground of the benefit; but

only on account of the perfect righteousness of Him who came to seek and

save those who were lost. In short, a gracious God saves his people not

by overlooking their sins; but by lifting the penalty from them, and

laying it upon the divine Redeemer, and for his sake letting them go

free, and accepting them solely on account of his merit.

This righteousness of Jehovah the Saviour is said to be "to all, and

upon all them that believe;"--that is, it is imputed to none--set to the

account of none but those who receive Christ by faith. Faith is that

great master grace by which we become united to the Saviour, and

interested in his atonement. This righteousness, therefore, is called

_the righteousness of faith, and the righteousness of God by faith_.

Hence we are said to be _justified by faith_, and to be _saved by

faith_. Not that faith, as an act of ours, is, in any measure, the

ground of our justification; but all these expressions imply, that there

is an inseparable connexion, in the economy of grace, between believing

in Christ, and being justified by him, or having his righteousness

imputed to us. Happy, thrice happy they, who can thus call the Saviour

_theirs_, and who have thus "received the atonement!" Though unworthy in

themselves, they are graciously pronounced righteous by their heavenly

Judge, on account of what the Mediator has done. Their sins, though

many, are, for his sake, forgiven them. They are _freely justified from

all things from which they could not be justified by the law of Moses_.

They are "accepted in the Beloved." Though polluted and undeserving in

their own character, they are "complete in Him." There is no

condemnation to them now; and in the day of judgment they shall find, to

their eternal joy, that there is both safety and happiness in appearing

in the righteousness of Him who loved sinners, and gave himself for

them, clothed in "robes which have been washed and made white in the

blood of the Lamb."

But we not only need to be justified by the righteousness of Christ; we

also indispensably need to be sanctified by the Spirit of Christ.

Accordingly, the purification of our nature, as well as the pardon of

our sins, is one of the benefits purchased by Him, and secured by

covenant to all believers. Hence the teaching and the sanctifying power

of the Holy Spirit must be regarded as an essential part of the great

salvation of which I am speaking. We need as much to be delivered from

the love of sin as from its condemnation. And for both, the plan of

mercy held forth in the Gospel of Christ, makes equal and effectual

provision. "Whom he justifies, them he also sanctifies; and whom he

sanctifies, them he also glorifies." By the power of the Holy Spirit,

the dominion of sin is broken in the hearts of all who are brought under

the power of the Gospel. The reign of corruption in the soul is

destroyed; the love of it is taken away; and though not perfectly

sanctified in the present life, yet every believer has his

sanctification begun. It is carried on, not by his own wisdom or

strength, but by the same divine power by which it was commenced; until

he is, at last, made perfectly holy, as well as perfectly happy in the

presence of his God and Saviour.

Thus does it appear that salvation is all of grace, sovereign, unmerited

grace. The original devising of the plan, in the eternal counsels of

peace, was prompted, not by any foresight of faith and holiness in the

fallen creature; but in mere grace. The plan itself, in all its

principles and provisions makes our salvation perfectly gratuitous, and

wholly excludes all human merit. After the plan was formed and executed,

and the knowledge of it imparted to us, no one would ever accept of it,

did not the same grace which formed it, incline the sinner to lay aside

his native opposition, and accept of the offered mercy. And even after

cordially accepting it, no individual would ever cleave to his hope, and

continue to embrace it, and live under its power, were he not "kept by

the power of God through faith unto salvation."

After the foregoing statement, the great question is, what message does

this plan of salvation bring to YOU? The message which it brings, dear

children, is an unspeakably solemn one. It charges _you_ with being

sinners--miserable sinners in the sight of God--without merit--without

help, and without hope in yourselves. It offers you peace, and pardon,

and sanctification, and eternal life, through the atoning sacrifice of

the blessed Redeemer. It entreats you to lay aside your enmity, and to

receive these benefits with humble and adoring gratitude, as a free,

unmerited gift, "through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus." Its

language is, "Whosoever will, let him come, and take of the water of

life freely." And again, "Whosoever cometh to me, I will in no wise cast

out." It calls upon you to renounce all confidence in yourselves, and to

receive and rest on Christ alone for salvation as he is freely offered

in the Gospel; to receive him as the Lord your righteousness, and the

Lord your strength, and rejoice in him as your only hope. To this end,

it is indispensable that you be convinced of sin; that you experience a

deep and cordial sense of your own sinfulness and unworthiness; that you

despair of saving yourselves; that you fall at the footstool of

sovereign grace, feeling that you deserve to die, and that you can have

no hope but in the atoning blood, and sanctifying Spirit of the

Redeemer. It is your duty and your privilege to go to the Saviour at

once, and cast yourselves on his mercy, without waiting for any

qualifications to render you worthy of his favour. You are commanded to

go to him as miserable, helpless sinners, not with a price in your

hands; but to receive from him all that you need to make you holy and

happy here and hereafter. And until you are prepared thus to go to him,

as miserable, unworthy sinners, who deserve God's wrath and curse

forever; until you sincerely feel that you have nothing to plead but the

merit of another; until you are ready to cast yourselves at the feet of

the Saviour, and to be indebted for pardon and eternal life as a mere

gift of grace, you have yet to learn the vital element of practical

religion.

Dear children! will you hesitate a moment--will you wait for a second

invitation to accept of such a Saviour? Will you turn away with

ingratitude from such a salvation? Listen to the entreaty of one who

loves you, and who has no stronger desire concerning you than to see you

walking in the Spirit, and enjoying the consolation of the Gospel: or

rather listen to the voice of that blessed Saviour himself who died for

sinners; and who says to you, and to all who hear the Gospel--"Come unto

me all ye who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Him

that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out."

Think not, I beseech you, of putting off this acceptance of the

Saviour's love until you are farther advanced in life. Do you forget

that "the ways of wisdom are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths

peace," and that you cannot too soon begin to be happy? Besides, have

you any assurance that you will live to be much more advanced in age

than you now are? Not long since, a graduate of one of our colleges was

heard to say, "I have finished my college education. I will now devote

two years to the study of a profession; and _then_ I will take one year

to see what there is in _that mighty thing they call_ RELIGION." So

calculated this careless, blooming youth. But before his plan was half

accomplished, he suddenly fell sick; was seized with delirium; and died

without hope. But there are facts, dear children, which ought to come

nearer home. Can you forget your beloved brother and sisters, who, in

the very threshold of their existence, were cut down, and laid in the

grave? And what security have _you_ that you will live to see another

year? But even if you _are_ permitted to live until you reach adult age,

or until you are old and grey-headed, what reason have you to hope, if

you go on hardening yourselves against the Gospel until that time, that

you will then have grace given you to "consider your ways?" O, how many

who were in youth thoughtful and tender, have become more and more

callous to every serious impression, as they advanced in life, and have,

at length, sunk into the grave without hope! Be entreated, then, dear

children, _now_, while your hearts are tender; before the world has

twined around them a thousand entanglements; before you become hardened

by inveterate habits of sin; be entreated to make choice of that "good

hope through grace," which will form the best treasure, and the only

effectual pledge of safety and happiness in the voyage of life: the

treasure which is emphatically "that good part which can never be taken

away from you."

LETTER IV.

THE BIBLE.

DEAR CHILDREN:--If you were walking, in a dark night, along a road full

of sloughs, and pits, and snares, and dangers of every kind, what would

you do for safety? You would naturally, if you could obtain it, take a

_light_ in your hands. You would also, if possible, engage a _guide_,

strong and faithful, well acquainted with the road, and qualified to

conduct and defend you. And, besides all this, you would vigilantly

_look around you_ at every step, and eagerly mark and avoid every spot

that had a suspicious or doubtful appearance.

Your situation, dear children, in the journey of life, is precisely such

as I have described; or rather, I ought to say, "the half has not been

told you." You are just entering on a world, dark, corrupt, and full of

allurement and danger. On every side enemies lie in wait to deceive and

betray. You are and will be exposed to a thousand temptations and perils

from which you have no wisdom or strength to deliver yourselves. You

need direction and guidance at every step. Now the BIBLE presents the

only complete and perfect map of the road which you are travelling. It

was given us to be "a light to our feet, and a lamp to our path." It

exhibits, with unerring fidelity, every enemy, every snare, every danger

which beset your path. It gives all the information, all the warning,

all the caution, and all the encouragement which you need. It tells you,

more perfectly than any other book, all that you have to fear, and all

that you have to hope for. There is not a form of error, or of

corruption, against which it does not put you on your guard; nor an

excellence or a duty which it does not direct you how to cultivate and

attain. "Wherewith," asks the Psalmist, "shall the young cleanse their

way?"--"By taking heed thereto," he replies, "according to thy word." No

one ever made this holy Book the guide of his life, without walking

wisely, safely, and happily; without finding the truest enjoyment in

this world, and eternal blessedness in the world to come.

Can you wonder, then, beloved children, that I place a high value on

this blessed Book; that I earnestly recommend it to your serious

attention, to your constant study, and to your devout and affectionate

application and confidence? Can you wonder that I should delight to see

it daily in your hands; much of its sacred contents committed to your

memory; and your hearts deeply imbued with its spirit and its power?

You, no doubt, remember how earnestly your precious Mother, now gone to

the God who gave this Book, recommended it to your attention; how

assiduously she put it into your hands; how often she constrained you to

commit portions of it to memory; and how frequently, on Sabbath

evenings, she gathered you round her to recite those portions in her

hearing, and to receive her instructions and counsels in regard to them.

Can you ever forget these scenes, and the solemn, tender lessons which

you then received? Call to mind her earnest looks, her affectionate

tones, her unceasing labour to impress the contents of this sacred Book

on your minds and hearts. Think of these things; and if you can

recollect them without gratitude to God for such a mother, and without

tears of regret that you have not profited more by her faithful

counsels, you have less moral feeling, and less filial sensibility than

I have been accustomed to give you credit for.

Why is it, my dear children, that so many young people regard the Bible

with aversion, and consider the study of its pages, and especially

committing them to memory, as a task and a burden? When we reflect that

it is sent to us from heaven; that it contains the glad tidings of

peace, and love, and salvation to a lost world; that it is besides full

of the noblest specimens of literary beauty, and of tender pathetic

eloquence that the world ever saw; that there is something in it adapted

to touch the finest and best cords of human sensibility--why is it that

you so often feel aversion to the study of this volume, and would

gladly be excused from the task of perusing its chapters? Alas! dear

children, this is one of the many proofs that your nature, as I before

stated, is depraved; and that you need the renewing and sanctifying

power of the Holy Spirit, before you can understand and relish a book

given by his inspiration. Every feeling of reluctance to the study of

this Book which you experience, ought to fill you with alarm, and to

constrain you to cry mightily to God that he would open your eyes and

your hearts, and give you that taste for the best of all books, without

which you cannot be prepared for the joys of his presence. Consider, I

beseech you, that, as you have been made acquainted with this Book from

your earliest childhood, so you will have to give an account for this

knowledge. Many children around you have never had the Bible put into

their hands; have never been taught to venerate and love its sacred

pages; but you have been informed of its origin and value. You have

enjoyed a privilege denied to thousands. Will you not be grateful for

this privilege? Will you not manifest that you know how to prize a gift

of more value than all the world beside? Can you deliberately consent to

meet the dreadful condemnation of those who, from childhood, "knew the

Master's will, and did it not."

I hope I need not remind you that the BOOK OF GOD is to be read with

feelings and in a manner very different from those with which you read

all other books. When you have read books of human composition once or

twice, you have gotten from them all they contain--you have done with

them. But with the perusal of the Bible you can never have done. The

oftener you go over it, if you feel as you ought, the richer and more

delightful will it appear. You can never exhaust its meaning or its

interest. Like its divine Author, it has a length and breadth and depth

and height, concerning which no human reader can ever say that he has

completely fathomed its meaning, or measured its riches.

Other books are to be read with attention, and, if they abound with

truth and wisdom, with respect; but the Book of God is to be read with

the deepest veneration, as containing the mind and will of our heavenly

Sovereign. In fact, every line of it is to be considered as the voice of

God speaking to us. Woe to those, whether young or aged, who can handle

the Bible with levity, make sport of its contents, or recite its solemn

language as matter of jest! The Lord will not hold them guiltless who

thus, practically, "take his name in vain." The Mohammedans manifest

much more reverence for their _Koran_, than many Christians for the

Bible. They never allow themselves to touch it without washing their

hands. They handle it with the most pointed respect, never holding it

lower than their girdles. Every copy of it commonly contains an

inscription or label on the cover, in these words--"Let none touch but

those who are clean." How very differently do many, young and old, among

us, treat the Holy Scriptures! I have often been distressed when I have

seen children toss about their Bibles, and even throw them in the dirt,

as they would the least valued of their play-things, or rattle over some

of the most solemn language of the Bible with as little apparent thought

or respect as they would repeat the veriest effusions of nonsense.

The Bible, farther, is to be read _daily_, and with _diligence_, as

containing that daily food from which you are to derive spiritual

aliment, and strength continually. It is to be read with fixed

_attention_, seriously directing your mind to its rich and important

meaning; with _humility_, feeling your need of the instruction and grace

which it contains; with _prayer_, imploring the guidance of the Holy

Spirit, that he may open your hearts to receive the engrafted word which

is able to save your souls; with _application_--asking continually--"How

does this concern _me_? Does it describe _my case_? Does it not contain

a lesson which demands _my_ special regard? Do _I_ know any thing in my

own experience of what is here taught?"

In this precious Book you will find every thing adapted to enlarge the

mind, to gratify the taste, to elevate the affections, and to purify the

heart. If you only sought the richest _entertainment_, you could not

open a book more fitted to gratify you. It is an inexhaustible mine of

instruction as well as of beauty--the deeper you dig, the richer will

you find its treasures. Its exquisite simplicity, its pathos, its

sublimity, its heavenly wisdom, its purity, are all adapted to turn us

away from the vanities of the world; to enlarge our views beyond these

regions of disorder and darkness; to strengthen every high and holy

motive; and to lead us upward to Him who is the source and the sum of

all good. Happy, thrice happy will those children and young people be,

who early learn to go to the BIBLE for all their sentiments, principles,

and rules of action; who learn daily to go to that precious Book to

direct them in their pursuits, to comfort them in their sorrows, to

guide them in their perplexities, and to animate them in their labours

whatever they may be! Such have the best pledge of temporal enjoyment,

and of eternal blessedness. When, therefore, those who love you, and

would in some measure take the place of your dear departed Mother, daily

put this precious Book of God into your hands, and urge you to read and

commit to memory a portion of its contents, do not allow yourselves to

regard it as a task or a burden. Think from whom it comes--from the God

who made you. Think of the great purpose for which it was given--to make

you wise and eternally happy. Think of the only means of making it truly

profitable to you--studying it with devout attention, laying it up in

your hearts, and practising it in your lives. Think of the solemn

responsibility which the possession of this Book lays upon you--for to

whomsoever much is given, of them shall much be required. And may the

great Author of this Book give you grace to "seek for the heavenly

wisdom which it contains as silver, and search for it as for hid

treasures!"

LETTER V.

PRAYER.

DEAR CHILDREN:--"Prayer is the offering up of our desires to God, for

things agreeable to his will, in the name of Christ, with confession of

our sins, and thankful acknowledgment of his mercies." This is the

definition given in a Catechism with which you are familiar, and a more

complete and perfect one could scarcely be conceived. It is the offering

up of our _sincere desires_; for unless it be _sincere_, it is but

solemn mockery. It is to be addressed to _God alone_; for prayer

addressed to any created being, is an act of treason to our rightful

Sovereign. It is to be "for things _agreeable to the divine will_;" or

else it is unauthorized and presumptuous. It is always to be presented

_in the name of Christ_; for there is no other name under heaven given

among men whereby we can draw near to a holy God with acceptance, but

the name of Jesus Christ. It must be accompanied with _confession of

sin_; because the approach of a sinner to God, without an humble sense

and acknowledgment of unworthiness, would be contrary to every principle

of reason, as well as to the Christian plan of salvation. And, finally,

it ought to include a thankful acknowledgment of _divine mercies_; for

without a grateful sense of God's goodness, we cannot be in a frame of

mind fitted to receive farther favours.

I trust, dear children, I need not dwell long on either the

_reasonableness_ or the _duty_ of prayer. If we are entirely dependent

on God for every temporal and spiritual blessing, then it is surely

reasonable that we acknowledge our dependence, and apply to him with

humility and earnestness for his aid. If his favour is life, and his

blessing the best riches, it is evident that we ought to supplicate them

with importunity and perseverance. If we are sinners, unworthy of the

divine favour, we ought to humble ourselves at his footstool, and make

confession of our sins with penitence and obedience. If he has revealed

a plan of mercy and grace to us, of which he invites and commands us to

avail ourselves, then every principle of self interest concurs with

reason, in urging us to seek with earnestness a participation in that

mercy. And if our Maker and Redeemer has, in so many words, commanded us

"by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving to make known our requests

to God," who can question, for a moment, the _reasonableness_ of a

compliance with that command?

Nor is the _duty_ of prayer less apparent than its _reasonableness_. The

command of our Father in heaven is--"Pray without ceasing--pray always

with all prayer and supplication, and abound therein with thanksgiving.

I will be inquired of by my people to do that for them which they need.

Ask and ye shall receive; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall

be opened unto you. For if ye, being evil, know how to give good gifts

unto your children, how much more shall your Father in heaven give his

Holy Spirit to them that ask him? All things whatsoever ye shall ask in

prayer, believing, ye shall receive. The effectual, fervent prayer of a

righteous man availeth much. When thou prayest, enter into thy closet,

and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret,

and thy Father which seeth in secret, shall reward thee openly. If any

one lack wisdom, let him ask of God, who giveth liberally, and it shall

be given him. Is any afflicted? let him pray. Be careful for nothing;

but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let

your requests be made known to God. The Lord is rich in mercy to all

that call upon him. In the day of my trouble I called upon the Lord, and

he heard me, and delivered me out of all my distresses."