OF THE MORAL RELATION OF MAN TOWARDS THE DEITY.
The healthy state of a moral being is strikingly referred, in the sacred
writings, to three great heads,--justice,--benevolence,--and a
conformity of the moral feelings to a reverential sense of the presence
and perfections of the Deity;--"to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk
humbly with thy God." The two former of these considerations lead us to
the duties which a man owes to his fellow-men;--the latter calls our
attention to that homage of the mind and of the heart which he owes
peculiarly to God. For the duties of the former class we are equally
responsible to him, as the moral Governor of the universe, but their
immediate reference is to our connexions with other men;--those of the
latter class respect our relation to the Deity himself, and consequently
consist, in a great measure, in the purity and devotedness of the mind.
In human systems of ethics, attention has been chiefly directed to the
obligations of social and relative morality;--but the two classes are
closely associated in the sacred writings; and the sound condition of
the moral feelings is pointed out as that acquirement which, along with
a corresponding integrity of character, qualifies man, in an especial
manner, for intercourse with the Deity. "Who shall ascend unto the hill
of the Lord, or who shall stand in his holy place. He that hath clean
hands and a pure heart, who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity, nor
sworn, deceitfully."--"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see
God."
Such declarations challenge the assent and absolute conviction of every
sound understanding. Are we, as responsible creatures, placed in
immediate relation to a great moral Governor, a being of infinite purity
and boundless perfections:--Is the structure of our bodies, and the
still more wonderful fabric of our minds, alike the work of his
hand:--Then it is impossible to put away from us the impression,--that
each movement of these minds must be fully exposed to his inspection. It
is equally impossible to repel from us the solemn truth,--that it is by
the desires, the feelings, and the motives of action which exist there,
that our condition is to be estimated in his sight,--and that a man,
whose conduct to his fellow-men does not violate propriety and justice,
may be in a state of moral degradation in the eyes of him who seeth in
secret;--"for," says the sacred writer, "man looketh on the outward
appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart."
There cannot, therefore, be an inquiry of more intense interest, than
what is that condition of the heart and of the mind which every man
ought to seek after, when he considers himself as exposed to the
continual inspection of the Almighty. It may, perhaps, be briefly
referred to the following heads.
I. A habitual effort to cultivate a sense of the divine presence,--and
a habitual desire to have the whole moral condition regulated by this
impression. It implies, therefore, sacred respect to the character of
the Deity, and is opposed to every kind of profaneness, or aught by
which one might weaken, in himself or others, the reverential feeling
due towards the character, and even the name of the Almighty. This must
be extended, not to the outward conduct alone, but to the desires and
affections of the heart. There is a state of mind formerly referred to,
in which a desire, which the moral feelings disapprove, may not be
followed by volition; while the desire is still indulged, and the mind
is allowed to cherish it with some feeling of regret, or even to
luxuriate with a sense of pleasure in the imaginary gratification. In
the same manner, a malevolent affection to our fellow-men may be checked
from producing injurious conduct, while the feeling still rankles in the
heart, in the form of envy or hatred. These mental conditions, while
they are widely at variance with the healthy state of a rational and
responsible being, must be regarded by the Deity as constituting moral
guilt and moral degradation. Nor is it only on the mind, which
cherishes malevolent passions and impure desires and imaginations, that
the Holy One must look with a feeling of condemnation. There may be
another mental condition, in which the thoughts and desires are directed
to transient and frivolous objects, and thus run to waste amid the
trifles of the passing hour, without any feeling of the truths and
motives which demand the attention of moral beings. The pursuits of such
a man may have nothing in them that is referable either to impure desire
or malevolent affection. They may be the acquisition of wealth,--the
grasp after power,--the love of distinction,--or a devotedness to merely
trivial occupations;--while there is a total neglect of those great
concerns which really demand our chief and highest regard. Amid the
legitimate and even the laudable pursuits of ordinary life, we are too
apt to lose sight of those duties and responsibilities which attend a
state of moral discipline,--and that culture of the soul required as a
preparation for the future state of existence to which we are hastening.
But we cannot doubt that these considerations bear an important aspect
in the eye of the Deity; and that the mind in which they hold not a
habitual influence is contemplated by him as in a state of moral
destitution.
There are, accordingly, two classes of characters clearly pointed out in
the sacred writings,--namely, one in whom the conduct indicates the
depravity within,--and another, in whom the external character preserves
a respectable aspect in the estimation of men, while the moral feelings
are in a corrupted condition in the sight of God. We have formerly
endeavoured to trace the laws to which this fact is to be referred, on
the principles of the philosophy of the human mind:--they are chiefly
two: (1.) We have seen that there are original principles in our nature
which lead to a certain exercise of justice, veracity, and benevolence,
independently of any recognition of divine authority. They are a part of
our moral constitution, and calculated to promote important purposes in
the harmony of human society; and they carry along with them a certain
principle of reciprocal compensation, which is entirely distinct from
any impression of their moral aspect. The man who is deficient in them,
indeed, incurs guilt; but a certain discharge of them may arise from
mere natural, or even selfish feeling, unconnected with any sense of
responsibility; and this consequently conveys no impression of moral
approbation. In the very exercise of them a man receives his reward,
partly by a feeling of satisfaction, which from the constitution of his
nature, they are calculated to yield, and partly as a member of that
community where they promote peace, and order, and harmony; and he is
not entitled to look farther, or to claim from them any feeling of merit
in the sight of the Deity. (2.) A second principle, which bears an
important relation to this subject, is the manner in which a man's
character is influenced by the particular motive or pursuit to which he
has resigned the guidance of his conduct. One surrenders himself to the
animal propensities, and becomes a selfish profligate, insensible to
every right principle of action, while his depraved condition is obvious
to all around him. A second devotes himself to ambition;--and a third to
avarice:--These ruling passions, it may be, are found to be adverse to
the selfish indulgence and open profligacy of the former; and a
character may arise out of them distinguished by much that is decent,
and respectable, and worthy of approbation in the eye of man. In a
fourth, the ruling motive may be the desire of esteem and approbation;
and this may, and often does, become a principle of such influence, as
to overpower, in a great measure, the selfish propensities, and to
produce a character estimable not only for justice and veracity, but a
high degree of active benevolence. Such a man sacrifices to his ruling
passion much that might be turned to the purposes of ambition, avarice,
or selfish indulgence, by those who are guided by these propensities;
and, in doing so, he has his reward. He finds it in the gratification of
that principle which in him has become predominant; and, rather than
forfeit the esteem of those whose approbation he values, he will submit
to much personal exertion, and sacrifice much selfish advantage, which
others might deem highly worthy of attainment. But all this may go on
without any recognition of divine authority; and may all exist in a man
in whom there is much impurity of desire, and much deficiency of moral
feeling. It is all referable to a motive of a personal nature, and, in
the gratification of this, his ruling principle is satisfied.
The state of mind which is under the influence of a habitual sense of
the divine presence may, therefore, be considered under two
relations,--the one referring more immediately to the Deity,--the other
to our fellow-men. The former seems chiefly to include an effort to have
every desire, thought, and imagination of the heart, regulated by a
sense of the presence and the purity of God, and in conformity to his
will. Amid much feeling of deficiency in these respects, it leads our
attention to that interesting mental condition, in which there is a
contest and a warfare within,--and a prevailing opposition to every
thing that is at variance with the purity of a moral being. The second
division includes the cultivation of feelings of kindness and
benevolence towards all men;--the love of justice,--the love of
truth,--the love of peace,--the forgiveness of injuries,--the
mortification of selfishness;--in a word, the earnest and habitual
desire to promote the comfort and alleviate the distresses of others.
From these two mental conditions must spring a character, distinguished
alike by piety towards God, and by high integrity, benevolence, and
active usefulness towards man. He who earnestly cultivates this purity
within, feels that he requires continual watchfulness, and a constant
direction of the mind to those truths and moral causes which are
calculated to influence his volitions. He feels farther that he is in
need of a might not his own in this high design; but for this he knows
also he can look, with humble confidence and hope, when, under a sense
of moral weakness, he asks its powerful aid.
II. A humble and dutiful submission to the appointments of
Providence,--as part of a great system which is regulated by infinite
wisdom. The man, who bears upon his mind this sublime impression, has
learnt to contemplate the Almighty One as disposing of the events of the
lower world, and assigning to each of his rational creatures the place
which he occupies. That place, whatever it may be, he perceives has
attached to it special duties and responsibilities,--and calls for the
cultivation of moral qualities peculiarly adapted to it. Is it one of
comfort, wealth, or influence,--solemn obligations arise out of the
means of usefulness which these command. Is it one of humble life,
privation, or actual suffering,--each of these also has its peculiar
duties, and each is to be contemplated as belonging to a great system of
moral discipline, in which no part can be wanting in consistency with
the harmony of the whole. Such a submission of the soul to the
appointments of God does not preclude the use of all legitimate means
for bettering our condition, or for preventing or removing sources of
distress. But when, under the proper use of such means, these are not
removed, it leads us habitually to that higher power, to whose will all
such attempts must be subservient;--and, while it elevates our thoughts
above present events and second causes, it reminds us of that great
scheme of discipline through which we are passing, and the purposes
which these events are calculated to promote in our own moral
improvement. Viewed under such feelings, the ills of life lose that
aspect in which we are too apt to contemplate them; and will be
considered with new and peculiar interest, as essential to that system,
the great object of which is to prepare and purify us for a higher state
of being.
III. A sense of moral imperfection and guilt,--and that humility and
devout self-abasement which arise out of it. This must be a prominent
feeling in every one who views his own conduct, and his mental emotions,
in reference to the purity of God. It naturally leads to supplication
for his mercy and forgiveness; and, in the wondrous display of his
character, given in the sacred writings, a provision is disclosed, in
virtue of which the exercise of mercy is made consistent with the truth
and justice of a moral governor. This dispensation of peace we find
habitually represented as adapted to man in a state of spiritual
destitution: and no mental condition is more frequently referred to, as
acceptable with the Deity, than that which consists of contrition and
lowliness of mind.--"Thus sayeth the high and lofty One that inhabiteth
eternity, whose name is Holy; I dwell in the high and holy place, with
him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit,--to revive the spirit
of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones." With this
state of mind is very naturally associated a sense of moral
weakness,--and a constant reliance on divine aid, both for direction
through life, and for the culture of the moral being.
IV. It is only necessary to add,--a profound sense of gratitude and love
towards the Deity as the giver of all good,--as our daily preserver and
benefactor. These feelings will have a special reference to the display
which he has given of his character, as merciful, gracious, and slow to
anger; and to the provision which he has made for the recovery and
restoration of his fallen creatures, through "God manifest in the
flesh." Of this divine person, and the work which he came to accomplish,
philosophy presumes not to speculate;--but we have seen the light
afforded, by the inductions of moral science, respecting the probability
of this revelation,--and its adaptation to the actual state of man in
his relation to the Deity. We have seen the impression conveyed by the
character of the Messiah, considered merely as matter of historical
truth,--exhibiting such a pattern, as never appeared in our world,
except in him, of a pure and perfect moral being. We have seen, farther,
the incontrovertible nature of that evidence, transmitted by testimony,
and confirmed, as it is, in a very peculiar manner, by periodical
observances, on which the whole revelation is supported;--and the
inductions of sound philosophy harmonize with the impressions of the
man, who, feeling his own moral necessities, yields his cordial assent
to this mystery of God, and seeks in its provisions his peace in the
life that now is, and his hope for the life that is to come.
* * * * *
From the whole mental condition, thus slightly delineated, there will
naturally arise a character and conduct adapted to the feelings and
principles which rule within. This implies, as we have seen, a due
regulation of the desires, and a habitual direction of them to objects
of real and adequate importance,--a diligent cultivation and exercise of
all the affections,--and a conduct distinguished, in the highest degree,
by purity, integrity, veracity, and active benevolence. It implies a
profound submission to the will of the Almighty, which puts to silence
every murmuring or repining thought under any dispensation of his
providence. It comprehends the habitual suppression of every selfish
principle, and the constant aspiration after a state of moral feeling,
which proposes to itself no lower standard than that which will bear the
inspection of a being of infinite purity. This character seems to
correspond with that high tone of morals enjoined in the sacred
writings. Its elements are defined and clear;--would we seek to estimate
its sublimity and its truth, we have only to compare it with those
distorted and temporizing systems which have resulted from the
inventions of men. A feeling of dissatisfaction, the same in kind,
though it may differ in degree, will attach to them all; and there is
none in which we can confidently rest, until we rise to the sublime
morality of the gospel. That great system of ethical purity comes to us
under the sanction of divine revelation, and established by the
miraculous evidence by which the proof of this is conveyed; but it is
independent of any other support than that which it carries in
itself,--consistency with the character of God,--and harmony with the
best feelings of man. In yielding an absolute consent to its supreme
authority, we require no external evidence. We have only to look at the
record in its own majestic simplicity, tried by the highest inductions
of the philosophy of the moral feelings, to enable us to point to the
morality of the gospel, and to say with unshrinking confidence,--this is
truth.
If we would seek for that, which must be of all conceivable things of
the highest moment both for the peace and the improvement of the moral
being, it is to be found in the habit of mind, in which there is the
uniform contemplation of the divine character, with a constant reliance
on the guidance of the Almighty in every action of life. "One thing,"
says an inspired writer, "have I desired of the Lord, that will I seek
after; that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my
life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in his
temple."--The man, who thus cultivates the habitual impression of the
divine presence, lives in an atmosphere peculiarly his own. The storms
which agitate the lower world may blow around or beneath, but they
touch not him;--as the traveller has seen from the mountain's top the
war of elements below, while he stood in unclouded sunshine. In the
works, and ways, and perfections of the Eternal One, he finds a subject
of exalted contemplation, in comparison with which the highest inquiries
of human science sink into insignificance. It is an exercise, also,
which tends at once to elevate and to purify the mind. It raises us from
the minor concerns and transient interests which are so apt to occupy
us,--to that wondrous field in which "worlds on worlds compose one
universe,"--and to that mind which bade them move in their appointed
orbits, and maintains them all in undeviating harmony. While it thus
teaches us to bend in humble adoration before a wisdom which we cannot
fathom, and a power which we cannot comprehend, it directs our attention
to a display of moral attributes which at once challenge our reverence
and demand our imitation. By thus leading us to compare ourselves with
the supreme excellence, it tends to produce true humility, and, at the
same time, that habitual aspiration after moral improvement which
constitutes the highest state of man. "The proud," says an eloquent
writer, "look down upon the earth, and see nothing that creeps upon its
surface more noble than themselves;--the humble look upwards to their
God." This disposition of mind, so far from being opposed to the
acquirements of philosophy, sits with peculiar grace upon the man who,
through the most zealous cultivation of human science, ascends to the
Eternal Cause. The farther he advances in the wonders of nature, the
higher he rises in his adoration of the power and the wisdom which guide
the whole;--"Where others see a sun, he sees a Deity." And then, in
every step of life, whether of danger, distress, or difficulty, the man
who cultivates this intercourse with the incomprehensible One "inquires
in his temple." He inquires for the guidance of divine wisdom, and the
strength of divine aid, in his progress through the state of moral
discipline;--he inquires, in a peculiar manner, for this aid in the
culture of his moral being, when he views this mighty undertaking in its
important reference to the life which is to come;--he inquires for a
discernment of the ways of Divine Providence, as he either feels it in
his own concerns, or views it in the chain of events which are going on
in the world around him. He learns to trace the whole to the same
unerring hand which guides the planet in its course; and thus rests in
the absolute conviction that the economy of Providence is one great and
magnificent system of design and order and harmony. These, we repeat
with confidence, are no visions of the imagination, but the sound
inductions of a calm and rational philosophy. They are conclusions which
compel the assent of every candid inquirer, when he follows out that
investigation of mighty import,--what is God,--and what is that essence
in man which he has endowed with the power of rising to himself.
To enlarge upon these important subjects would lead us away from the
proper design of a work, which is intended chiefly to investigate the
light we derive from the phenomena of the mind itself. The points which
have been stated, as arising out of the impressions of every sound
understanding, challenge the assent of all who believe in a present and
presiding Deity,--a being of infinite power and wisdom, and of perfect
purity. With him who calls in question this sublime truth, we have no
common feeling, and no mutual premises on which an argument can be
founded. We must therefore leave him to sit in solitary pride, while he
views the chaos which his fancy has framed, and strives to reconcile the
discordant elements of a system, in which there are effects without a
cause, and harmony without a regulating power; and in which the mind can
perceive no element of credibility, consistency, or truth.
With this slight outline, therefore, we must quit a subject of the
deepest interest, but which belongs rather to the theologian than to the
inquirer in mental science;--and proceed briefly to investigate the
means by which the condition of the moral feelings, which has been the
subject of the preceding observations, may be promoted and cultivated as
the regulating principle of the whole character. Two views may be taken
of this point, which, though they harmonize with each other in practice,
are to be considered in their philosophical aspect as distinct.
The restoration of man from a state of estrangement, anarchy, or moral
death, we are taught in the sacred writings to refer to a power from
without the mind,--an influence directly from God. We have seen the
various considerations derived from the phenomena of the mind, and our
impressions of the divine character, giving to this great doctrine a
probability which claims the assent of every correct understanding. But,
without in any degree losing sight of the truth and the importance of
this principle, the immediate object of our attention, as a branch of
mental science, is rather the process of the mind itself, by means of
which a habitual influence is produced upon the whole character. This is
a compound operation which may probably be analysed in the following
manner. It seems to be composed of reason,--attention,--and a
modification of conception. The province of Reason is to examine the
truth of the statements or doctrines, which are proposed to the mind, as
calculated to act upon its moral feelings;--and, upon this being done in
a correct manner, must depend the validity of the subsequent parts of
the mental process. This being premised, it is the office of Attention,
aided by reason, to direct the mind assiduously to the truths, so as
fully to perceive their relations and tendencies. By the farther
process, analogous to Conception, they are then placed before us, in
such a manner as to give them the effect of real and present existence.
By these means, truths relating to things for which we have not the
evidence of our senses, or referring to events which are future, but
fully expected to happen, are kept before the mind, and influence the
moral feelings and the character, in the same manner as if the facts
believed were actually seen, or the events expected were taking place in
our view. This mental operation is _Faith_;--and, for the sound exercise
of it, the constituent elements now mentioned are essentially necessary.
The truth must be received by the judgment upon adequate evidence; and,
by the other parts of the process, it must be so kept before the mind,
that it may exercise such a moral influence as might arise from the
actual vision or present existence, of the things believed.
Attention to these considerations will probably enable us to discover
some of the fallacies which have obscured and bewildered this important
subject. When the impression, which is thus allowed to influence the
mind, is one which has not been received by the judgment, upon due
examination, and adequate evidence of its truth,--this is enthusiasm,
not faith.--Our present course of inquiry does not lead us to treat of
the notions which have, in various individuals, been thus allowed to
usurp the place of truth. To those who would preserve themselves from
the influence of such, the first great inquiry, respecting their own
mental impressions, ought to be,--are they facts,--and on what evidence
do they rest which can satisfy a sound understanding that they are so.
On the other hand is to be avoided an error, not less dangerous than the
wildest fancies of the enthusiast, and not less unworthy of a regulated
mind. This consists in treating real and important truths as if they
were visions of the imagination, and thus dismissing them, without
examination, from the influence which they ought to produce upon the
moral feelings. It is singular also to remark, how these two
modifications of character may be traced to a condition of the reasoning
powers, essentially the same. The former receives a fiction of the
imagination, and rests upon it as truth. The latter, acting upon some
prejudice or mental impression, which has probably no better foundation,
puts away real and important truths without any examination of the
evidence on which they are founded. The misapplication of the reasoning
powers is the same in both. It consists in proceeding upon mere
impression, without exercising the judgment on the question of its
evidence,--or on the facts and considerations which are opposed to it.
Two characters of a very opposite description thus meet in that mental
condition, which draws them equally, though in different directions,
astray from the truth.
When a truth has fully received the sanction of the judgment, the second
office of faith is, by attention and conception, to keep it habitually
before the mind, so that it may produce its proper influence upon the
character. This is to live by faith;--and in this consists that
operation of the great principle, which effectually distinguishes it
from all pretended feelings and impressions assuming its name. We speak,
in common language, of a head-knowledge which does not affect the
heart;--and of a man who is sound in his creed, while he shews little of
its influence upon his conduct. The mental condition of such a man
presents a subject of intense interest. His alleged belief, it is
probable, consists merely in words, or in arguing ingeniously on points
to which he attaches no real value. These may have been impressed upon
him by education;--they may constitute the creed of a party to which he
has devoted himself; and he may argue in support of them with all the
energy of party zeal. In the same manner, a man may contend warmly in
favour of compassion, whose conduct shows a cold and barren
selfishness;--but this is not benevolence;--and the other is not faith.
Both are empty professions of a belief in certain truths, which have
never fixed themselves in the mind, so as to become regulating
principles or moral causes in the mental constitution. We may indeed
suppose another character, slightly removed from this, in which the
truths have really received the approbation of the judgment, and yet
fail to produce their proper influence. This arises from distorted moral
habits, and a vitiated state of the moral faculties, which have
destroyed the healthy balance of the whole economy of the mind. The
consequence is, that the man perceives and approves of truths, without
feeling their tendencies, and without manifesting their power.
Intimately connected with this subject, also, is a remarkable principle
in our mental constitution, formerly referred to,--the relation between
certain facts or truths, and certain moral emotions, which naturally
arise from them, according to the chain of sequences which has been
established in the economy of the mind. A close connexion thus exists
between our intellectual habits and our moral feelings, which leads to
consequences of the utmost practical moment. Though we have little
immediate voluntary power over our moral emotions, we have a power over
the intellectual processes with which these are associated. We can
direct the mind to truths, and we can cherish trains of thought, which
are calculated to produce correct moral feelings;--and we can avoid or
banish mental images or trains of thought, which have an opposite
tendency. This is the power over the succession of our thoughts, the due
exercise of which forms so important a feature of a well-regulated mind,
in regard to intellectual culture;--its influence upon us as moral
beings is of still higher and more vital importance.
The sound exercise of that mental condition which we call Faith
consists, therefore, in the reception of certain truths by the
judgment,--the proper direction of the attention to their moral
tendencies,--and the habitual influence of them upon the feelings and
the conduct. When the sacred writers tell us that, without faith, it is
impossible to please God,--and when they speak of a man being saved by
faith,--it is not to a mere admission of certain truths as part of his
creed, that they ascribe consequences so important; but to a state in
which these truths are uniformly followed out to certain results, which
they are calculated to produce, according to the usual course of
sequences in every sound mind. This principle is strikingly illustrated
by one of these writers, by reference to a simple narrative. During the
invasion of Canaan by the armies of Israel, two men were sent forward as
spies to bring a report concerning the city of Jericho. The persons
engaged in this mission were received in a friendly manner, by a woman
whose house was upon the wall of the city;--when their presence was
discovered, she hid them from their pursuers; and finally enabled them
to escape, by letting them down by a cord from a window. Before taking
leave of them, she expressed her firm conviction, that the army to which
they belonged was soon to take possession of Jericho, and of the whole
country, and she made them swear to her that, when this should take
place, they would shew mercy to her father's house. The engagement was
strictly fulfilled. When the city was taken, and the other inhabitants
destroyed, the woman was preserved, with all her kindred. In this very
simple occurrence, the woman is represented, by the sacred writer, as
having been saved by faith. The object of her faith was the event which
she confidently expected,--that the city of Jericho was to be destroyed.
The ground of her faith was the rapid manner in which the most powerful
nations had already fallen before the armies of Israel,--led, as she
believed, by a divine power. Acting upon this conviction, in the manner
in which a belief so deeply affecting her personal safety was likely to
influence any sound mind, she took means for her preservation, by making
friends of the spies. Her faith saved her, because without it she would
not have made this provision; but, unless she had followed out her
belief to the measure which was calculated to effect this object, the
mere belief of the event would have availed her nothing. When we
therefore ascribe important results to faith, or to any other mental
operation, we ascribe them not to the operation itself, but to this
followed out to the consequences which it naturally produces, according
to the constitution of the human mind. In the same manner, we may speak
of one man, in a certain state of danger or difficulty, being saved by
his wisdom, and another by his strength. In doing so, we ascribe such
results, not to the mere possession of these qualities, but to the
efforts which naturally arose from them, in the circumstances in which
the individual was placed. And, when the inspired writer says, that
without faith it is impossible to please God,--he certainly refers to no
mere mental impression, and to no barren system of opinions; but to the
reception of certain truths, which in our present state of being are
entirely the objects of faith, and to all that influence, upon the moral
feelings and the character, which these must produce upon every mind
that really believes them.
* * * * *
On this great subject, much misconception appears to have arisen from
not sufficiently attending to the condition in which, as moral beings,
we are placed in the present state of existence, and the important part
which must be performed by the mental exercise called faith. As physical
and intellectual beings, we have certain relations to the objects by
which we are surrounded, and with these we communicate by means of our
bodily senses. But, as moral beings, our relations are entirely of a
different nature; and the facts and motives, which are calculated to act
upon us in these relations, are chiefly the objects of faith: that is,
they are not cognizable by any of our senses, but are to be received by
a different part of our constitution, and upon a separate kind of
evidence. This, accordingly, is the simple but important distinction,
referred to by the sacred writer, when, in allusion to our condition as
moral beings, he says,--"we walk by faith, not by sight." The objects of
sight, here intended to express all the objects of sense, exercise over
us a habitual and powerful influence. They constantly obtrude themselves
upon our notice without any exertion of our own; and it requires a
peculiar exercise of mind to withdraw our attention from them, and to
feel the power of events which are future, and of things which are not
seen. This mental exercise is Faith. Its special province, as we have
seen, is to receive truths which are presented directly to the mind,--to
place them before us with all the vividness of actual and present
existence,--and to make them exert upon us an agency analogous to that
which is produced by objects of sight. The next great point in our
inquiry, therefore, is, what are the truths which are calculated thus to
operate upon us as moral beings, and which it is the object of faith to
bring habitually before us.
* * * * *
When we withdraw our minds from the influence of sensible things, and
send forth our attention to those truths which are the province of
faith, the first great object which meets our view is the eternal
incomprehensible One, the moral governor of the universe,--a being of
infinite perfections and infinite purity. From the stupendous works of
nature, we trace his operation as the great First Cause,--and infer,
with absolute certainty, his boundless power and wisdom, and his
independent existence. The impress of his moral attributes he has fixed
with indelible certainty, upon our moral perceptions,--where, in the
light of conscience, co-operating with a simple process of reason, we
perceive him to be a being of infinite holiness, and of unerring truth
and justice. Our knowledge of these attributes is not the result of any
process of reasoning which can admit of deliberation or doubt. They
force themselves upon our conviction by the most simple principles of
induction, when, from our own mental and moral endowments, we infer the
perfections of him who formed us.
From every conception we can form of such a being, we have an equally
insuperable conviction of his universal presence,--that he is the
witness not only of our conduct, but of the thoughts and imaginations
of the heart;--and that from these, as indicating our real condition,
and not from our conduct alone, our moral aspect is estimated by
him,--the pure and holy One who seeth in secret. Each moment, as it
passes rapidly over us, we know is bringing us nearer to that period,
when all our hopes and fears for this world shall lie with us in the
grave. But we feel also that this is the entrance to another state of
being,--a state of moral retribution, where the eternal One is to be
disclosed in all his attributes as a moral governor. These
considerations fix themselves upon the mind, with a feeling of yet new
and more tremendous interest, when we farther take into view that this
future existence stretches out before us into endless duration. This is
the truth so powerfully expressed by the sacred writer, in terms which
by their brevity convey, in the most adequate manner, their overwhelming
import,--"The things which are seen are temporal, but the things which
are not seen are eternal."
These truths are not the visions of enthusiasm; neither are they the
result of any process of reasoning, by which different men may arrive
at different conclusions. They force themselves upon our conviction with
a power which we cannot put away from us, when we turn our attention to
the solemn inquiry, what we are, and what is God. In the sacred writings
they are detailed and illustrated, in a connected and harmonious manner;
and are impressed upon us with the force of a revelation from the Deity
himself. But the principles there disclosed meet with an impression, in
our moral constitution, which pleads with authority for their truth. It
is the province of faith to keep these habitually before the mind, and
to cause them to influence the feelings and the conduct, as if they were
objects of sense,--as if the Deity, in all the purity of his character
were actually disclosed to our view,--or as if we were present at that
dread hour which shall witness his righteous retribution. The man who
thus feels their power, and exhibits their influence upon his character,
is he who lives by faith.
When, under this mental exercise, a man brings himself into the
immediate presence of the eternal One;--when he arraigns himself, as it
were, before the bar of the omniscient Judge;--when he places before
him that future state which stretches forth into endless existence,--a
train of feelings must arise in his mind, to which he was a stranger, so
long as he placidly resigned himself to the influence of sensible
things. He views this being of infinite purity, as one who has been all
his life the daily witness of his conduct; and feels that even the
secrets of the heart have been at all times open to divine inspection.
Each day, as it passed unheeded over him, was a portion gone by of his
period of moral discipline; and each, as it glided amid the frivolities
of life, or the active pursuit of temporal good, had its moral aspect
assigned to it in the judgment of the eternal mind. Along with these
impressions, which no reflecting man can put away from him, a voice
within forces upon him the conviction, that, were his whole history
disclosed to his fellow-men, he would, even in their estimation, be
found wanting. How much more deeply must this be fixed upon his inmost
soul, when he feels that the whole is, at one glance, exposed to the eye
of omniscience; and that an hour is rapidly approaching, when a strict
account must be rendered, and a righteous sentence pronounced, the
result of which will extend into eternal existence. With these truths
upon his mind, what reflecting man can view, without awe, the moment
which is to close his state of moral discipline,--when, disencumbered
from his earthly tenement, he shall find himself alone with God,--and
there shall burst upon his astonished faculties the blaze of an endless
day. These are not speculations of fancy, but eternal truth. The man who
habitually acts under their influence, knows that his faith rests upon a
conviction which cannot be shaken, when he recognises in all his ways
the presence and the inspection of the Deity,--when he feels the
obligation to have even the desires and affections under subjection to
his will,--and when he resigns himself to his guidance and asks his
powerful aid, both for the conduct of this life, and the preparation for
the life which is to come.
* * * * *
Solemn is the hour when a man thus retires from the tumult of life, and
seriously proposes to himself the question,--what is his condition as a
moral being; what have been his leading pursuits in this life which is
hastening to a close; what is his aspect in the view of that
incomprehensible One, who perceives at a single glance the whole details
of his moral history. Is he safe to meet the full splendour of that
eye;--has he no apprehension, that, when called to account in the
immediate presence of unerring purity, he may not be able to answer. The
man lives not, who can appeal to his own heart and say, after serious
inquiry, that he can thus meet the penetrating search of him, whose
knowledge is perfect, as his purity is infinite: The man lives not, who
can look back upon his whole life, without feeling, that, in the sight
of this unspotted One, he is polluted with guilt: And, if his heart
condemn him, with all its partiality for his own views and feelings, and
all its forgetfulness of many points in his moral history, he must feel
that God is greater than his heart, and knoweth all things. Under such
an impression, to what refuge shall he betake himself. Does he appeal to
an indefinite idea of the mercy of the Deity;--it must be evident that
this conveys no distinct principle, and will not bear the confidence
which is essential to hope and peace. For we cannot go to the extent of
supposing a mercy so indiscriminate, that the Deity will depart from all
the laws which he has made, and which he has impressed upon us as a part
of our moral constitution. This would be ascribing, to infinite wisdom,
an indecision and a change of purpose, unworthy of the weakest human
lawgiver. If, then, we do not boldly assume this position, how are we to
draw the line where such mercy is to terminate;--and where the Almighty
is to appear in his character of justice, as a righteous moral governor.
If we find that each individual fixes a different standard, and that
each extends it so as to favour his own condition, it is clear that the
system presents no character of truth, and that it is incapable of
ministering to the consolation of him who feels his own necessities, and
seriously contemplates the character of God. He must perceive that to
apply such reasoning to human enactments, would be to represent them as
a mockery of justice; and that it is impossible thus to argue,
respecting the laws of him who is infinite in holiness and boundless in
wisdom. He cannot but acknowledge that a universe governed in such a
manner would run into irremediable confusion and anarchy; and will find
it impossible, on any principle which human reasoning can furnish, to
arrive at any other decision than this,--that the Judge of all the earth
must be unchanging in his purposes, and impartial in his justice.
To this conclusion we are led by the clearest inductions of moral
science;--but, at this momentous point, philosophy fails us. No human
power can find a refuge, to which the mind can betake itself under a
sense of guilt;--no human wisdom can answer the inquiry of mighty
import, can God be just and yet justify the ungodly. But here we are met
by a light from heaven, which has burst upon the scene of doubt and of
darkness; and are called to bring down the pride of our reason, in
humble submission to the testimony of God. It comes supported by a
weight of evidence, which challenges the cordial assent of the most
acute understanding, and the power of which will be best appreciated by
those, who, with sincere desire for truth, have made the highest
attainments in the laws of rigid inquiry. It discloses an atonement made
for sin,--and an influence from heaven, calculated to restore the moral
being to the purity in which it was formed. It thus meets alike the
necessities of man, as in a state of actual guilt, and a state of moral
degradation. For the one, it displays a scheme of mercy in which the
integrity of the divine character is vindicated, while pardon is
extended to transgressors. To the other, it offers power from heaven,
which will correct the disorders of the moral constitution, and raise
the man anew to the likeness of God. It thus forms a harmonious whole,
uniform and consistent in itself,--worthy of the character of God,--and
adapted to the condition of man; and, to every one who feels his own
moral necessities, and estimates the purity of the Deity, it brings an
absolute conviction of its truth.
A participation in the benefits of this revelation of divine mercy is
said, in the sacred writings, to be received by Faith; and this
expression has given rise to controversies and contending systems, which
have involved the subject in much perplexity. While some have restricted
the operation of Faith to the mere belief of a certain system of
opinions, others have referred to it a series of mysterious impressions,
and enthusiastic feelings, at variance with every dictate of sound
reasoning. The principle of faith, however, holds so prominent a place
in the scheme of Christian truth, that some clear notions respecting its
nature must be felt to be of the highest interest. It holds also, as we
have formerly seen, a most important position in the philosophy of the
moral feelings,--being that mental operation, by which we receive a
certain class of truths, of the utmost consequence to us as responsible
beings. It is a process which every one feels, but which cannot be
defined;--and it can be illustrated only by tracing its influence, in
regard to those objects to which it is more particularly directed.
The objects of faith are twofold,--truths addressed to the
understanding,--and benefits offered or promised. We have formerly had
occasion to trace the action of faith in regard to truth,--especially a
class of truths which are calculated, when really believed, to exert a
powerful effect upon our moral feelings and conduct. Its operation, we
have seen, is to bring these truths before us in such a manner, that
they exert the same kind of influence as if the facts or events were
objects of sense. The man who believes these truths, so as thus
habitually to feel then power, is he who receives them in faith. This is
the province of faith in regard to truth;--we have next to analyze its
operation in regard to offered or promised benefits,--and this we can
best do by means of an example.
Let us take the illustration of a man affected with a disease supposed
to be mortal;--he is told that a remedy has been discovered of
infallible efficacy; and that a person is at hand who is ready to
administer it. Does he perceive his danger;--does he believe the virtue
of the remedy;--does he confide in the sincerity of the individual who
offers it;--this is faith. The immediate and natural result of his faith
is, that he asks for the remedy which is offered;--and this result is
inseparable from such belief, according to the uniform sequence of
volitions in every sound mind. The man who professes to admit the facts,
and does not shew such a result of belief, professes what he does not
actually feel. If he perceives not the extent of his danger, he asks not
the remedy, because he values it not;--and the same effect may follow,
if he doubts either its efficacy, or the sincerity of him who offers it.
In this case, it is also to be observed, that a reflection is thrown
upon the character of this individual, by imputing to him an offer of
what he has either not the power or the intention to perform. But if the
man really believes the truths, he applies for the remedy; and he
receives it. Thus his faith saves him, because by means of it he bought
the offered aid. Could we suppose him merely to admit the facts, without
asking the remedy, his belief would avail him nothing.
Such appeals to be the simple view we are to take of Faith, when we
apply it to the great benefits which are presented to us in the
Christian revelation. This is addressed to us as beings in a state both
of guilt and of depravity; and as having no means of our own, by which
we can rescue ourselves from condemnation and impurity. It unfolds a
dispensation of peace, by which, in perfect consistency with the harmony
of his character, the Deity offers mercy and forgiveness,--and an
influence from himself which has power to purify the moral being. These
benefits are conferred on every one who believes; and who is he that
believes:--the man who is convinced of his guilt, and perceives his
impurity;--who feels his inability to rescue himself;--who admits the
efficacy of the remedy, and confides in the sincerity with which it is
offered;--this is he who believes. His faith saves him; because, acting
on his conviction, according to the uniform sequence of volitions in
every sound mind, he asks the promised aid, and asking receives it. Much
of the confusion, in which the subject has been involved, appears to
have arisen from metaphysical refinements, by which the various parts of
this mental process are separated from each other. They form one
harmonious whole, which cannot be broken. The man will not seek the
remedy, who believes not its efficacy, and perceives not his moral
necessities; but, however he may profess to admit these facts, if he
follows not out his belief to its natural result, by applying for the
remedy, his mere belief will not profit him. The grounds, on which
these truths are addressed to us, are contained in that chain of
evidence on which is founded the whole system of Christianity,--taken
along with the conviction, which every man receives of his actual moral
condition, from the voice of conscience within. A sense of the sincerity
of the offer we derive from our impression of the unchangeable
attributes of the Deity. Accordingly, he who believes is said to give
glory to God,--that is, to receive his statements with absolute
confidence, and to form an honourable conception of the sincerity of his
intentions. He who believes not, rejects the statements of the Almighty
as false,--and treats him with the contempt which we apply to one whom
we suppose to promise what he has no intention to bestow. The man who
comes to God, with the hope of acceptance, is therefore required to come
in the assurance of faith, or an implicit conviction that he is sincere
in his intentions of bestowing the blessings which he offers; and
whosoever has not this assurance does dishonour to the divine
character,--or "maketh God a liar."
It were vain to enter upon the various systems and opinions, in which
this important doctrine has been misrepresented by its enemies, and
often perverted by those who profess to be its friends. Two of these may
be briefly noticed. Some have maintained that the doctrine of an
unconditional pardon sets aside the obligations of morality,--because it
has no regard to the personal character of the individual,--or holds out
the offer of acceptance to faith, without obedience. Others contend that
an essential part of faith is an immediate and absolute assurance of a
man's own acceptance in the sight of the Deity; and that he who has not
this is in a state of unbelief. These two opinions, so different from
each other, are equally founded upon misconception of the nature and
provisions of the Christian economy.
In regard to the former, it is only necessary to remark, that the
revelation of Christian truth is not confined to an offer of pardon to
the guilty;--its great object is the recovery and purification of the
moral being; and there is an essential and inviolable union between
these two parts of the great scheme of redemption. It provides in the
most effectual manner for the interests of morality, by the
purification of the desires and affections, the springs of action;--it
is the morality of the heart. It proclaims a system of morals, more pure
and more exalted far than ever was contemplated by the wisest of
men;--it exhibits an example of the perfect state of a moral being, in
the character of the Messiah;--and it enforces the imitation of this
example as indispensable in every one who professes to be his disciple.
These different parts of the scheme can never be separated, and there
cannot be a greater perversion of reasoning, or a greater misconception
of the prominent features of the gospel of peace, than to allege that it
does not provide, in the most effectual manner, for the highest
interests of morality.
The other opinion is equally founded upon error,--namely, that which
considers it essential to faith, that a man be assured of his personal
acceptance in the sight of the Deity. It is obvious that this is a
sophism clearly opposed to sound reasoning, and to the first principles
of the philosophy of the moral feelings. For faith, viewed as a mental
process, must always have for its object facts; and these facts must
rest upon such evidence, as is sufficient to convince the understanding
of their truth. To talk of faith, without such facts and such evidence,
is a mere logical fallacy, or an absurdity in terms. But there is no
disclosure of the personal acceptance of any individual, and
consequently, on no principle of sound reasoning can this ever be
considered as the object of faith. This doctrine, therefore, applies a
most important principle of the mind, not to facts, which alone can
warrant the exercise of faith, but to a vision of the imagination, which
admits of no evidence, and cannot be subjected to any test of its truth.
Widely different from all such flimsy and imaginary hypotheses is the
great system of Christian truth,--harmonious and consistent in itself,
and challenging the approbation of the soundest understanding. It
reveals, as we have seen, a dispensation of mercy, in accordance with
the highest ideas we can form of the divine perfections. It is supported
by a chain of evidence, which carries conviction to the mind of the most
rigid inquirer; and thus it is a sound and legitimate object of faith.
It reveals also a provision for purifying the moral nature; and this in
every case accompanies the dispensation of mercy to those who receive
it. The effects of this powerful agency, therefore, become the test and
the evidence of the reality of faith. Does a man seek a proof of his
acceptance,--the reference is to facts in his own moral condition. He is
to look for it in a change which is taking place in his character,--a
new direction of his desires,--a new regulation of his affections,--a
habitual impression, to which he was a stranger before, of the presence
and the perfections of the Deity--and a new light which has burst upon
his view, respecting his relations to this life and to that which is to
come. He is to seek this evidence in a mind, which aims at no lower
standard than that which will bear the constant inspection of infinite
purity;--he is to seek it, and to manifest it to others, in a spirit
which takes no lower pattern than that model of perfection,--the
character of the Messiah. These acquirements, indeed, are looked upon,
not as a ground of acceptance, but a test of moral condition; not as, in
any degree, usurping the place of the great principle of faith, but as
its fruits and evidences. As these, then, are the only proofs of the
reality of this principle, so they are the only basis on which a man can
rest any sound conviction of his moral aspect in the sight of the
Deity;--and that system is founded on delusion and falsehood, which, in
this respect, holds out any other ground of confidence than the
purification of the heart, and a corresponding harmony of the whole
character. Such attainment, indeed, is not made at once, nor is it ever
made in a full and perfect manner in the present state of being; but,
where the great principle has been fixed within, there is a persevering
effort, and a uniform contest, and a continual aspiration after
conformity to the great model of perfection. Each step that a man gains
in this progress serves to extend his view of the high pattern to which
his eye is steadily directed; and, as his knowledge of it is thus
enlarged, he is led by comparison to feel more and more deeply his own
deficiency. It thus produces increasing humility, and an increasing
sense of his own imperfection, and causes him continually to feel, that,
in this warfare, he requires a power which is not in man. But he knows
also that this is provided, as an essential part of the great system on
which his hope is established. Amid much weakness, therefore, and many
infirmities, his moral improvement goes forward. Faint and feeble at
first, as the earliest dawn of the morning, it becomes brighter and
steadier as it proceeds in its course, and, "as the shining light,
shineth more and more unto the perfect day."
THE END.
EDINBURGH: Printed by Balfour and Jack, Niddry Street.