Much labour has been employed to account for all the phenomena of nature

by the powers of mechanism, or the necessary laws of matter and motion.

But this, as we imagine, cannot be done. The primary causes of things

must certainly be some powers and principles not mechanical, otherwise

we shall be reduced to the necessity of maintaining an endless

progression of motions communicated from matter to matter, without any

first mover; or of saying that the first impelling matter moved itself.

The former is an absurdity too great to be embraced by any one; and

there is reason to hope that the essential inactivity of matter is at

present so well understood, and so generally allowed, notwithstanding

some modern oppugners of this hypothesis, that there can be but few who

will care to assert the latter. All our reasonings about bodies, and the

whole of natural philosophy, are founded on the three laws of motion

laid down by Sir Isaac Newton, at the beginning of the “_Principia_.”

These laws express the plainest truths; but they would have neither

evidence nor meaning, were not inactivity contained in our idea of

matter. Should it be said that matter, though naturally inert, may be

made to be otherwise by divine power, this would be the same with saying

that matter may be made not to be matter. If inactivity belong to it at

all, it must belong to it as matter, or solid extension, and therefore

must be inseparable from it. Matter is figured, movable, discerptable,

inactive, and capable of communicating motion by impulse to other

matter: these are not accidental but primary qualities of matter.

Beside, matter void of inactivity, if we were to suppose it possible,

could produce no effects. The communication of motion, its direction,

the resistance it suffers, and its cessation, in a word, the whole

doctrine of motion cannot be consistently explained or clearly

understood without supposing the inertia of matter. Self-moving matter

must have thought and design, because, whenever matter moves, it must

move in some particular direction, and with some precise degree of

velocity; and as there is an infinity of these equally possible, it

cannot move itself without selecting one of these preferably to and

exclusively of all others, and therefore not without design. Moreover,

it may be plainly proved that matter cannot be the ultimate cause of the

phenomena of nature, or the agent which, by any powers inherent in

itself, produces the general laws of nature, without possessing the

highest degree of knowledge and wisdom; which might be easily evinced or

exemplified by adverting to the particular law of gravitation. “The

philosopher,” says an excellent writer, “who overlooks the laws of an

all-governing Deity in nature, contenting himself with the appearance of

the material universe only, and the mechanical laws of motion, neglects

what is most excellent, and prefers what is imperfect to what is

supremely perfect, finitude to infinity, what is narrow and weak to what

is unlimited and almighty, and what is perishing to what endures for

ever. Sir Isaac Newton thought it most unaccountable to exclude the

Deity _only_ out of the universe. It appeared to him much more just and

reasonable to suppose that the whole chain of causes, or the several

series of them, should centre in him as their source; and the whole

system appear depending on him the only independent cause.” If, then,

the Deity pervades and actuates the material world, and his unremitting

energy is the cause to which every effect in it must be traced; the

spiritual world, which is of greater consequence, cannot be disregarded

by him. Is there not one atom of matter on which he does not act; and is

there one living being about which he has no concern? Does not a stone

fall without him; and does, then, a man suffer without him? The

inanimate world is of no consequence, abstracted from its subserviency

to the animate and reasonable world: the former, therefore, must be

preserved and governed entirely with a view to the latter. But it is not

mere energy or the constant exertion of power that is discernible in the

frame or laws of the universe, in maintaining the succession of men, and

in producing men and other beings; but wisdom and skill are also

conspicuous in the structure of every object in the inanimate creation.

After a survey of the beauty and elegance of the works of nature, aided

by the perusal of Matt. vi, 28, &c, we may ask ourselves, Has God, in

the lowest of his works, been lavish of wisdom, beauty, and skill; and

is he sparing of these in the concerns of reasonable beings? Or does he

less regard order, propriety, and fitness in the determination of their

states? The answer is obvious. Providence also implies a particular

interposition of God in administering the affairs of individuals and

nations, and wholly distinct from that general and incessant exertion of

his power, by which he sustains the universe in existence.

The doctrine of providence may be evinced from the consideration of the

divine perfections. The first cause of all things must be regarded as a

being absolutely perfect; and the idea of absolute perfection

comprehends infinite power, wisdom, and goodness; hence we deduce the

doctrine of providence. The Deity cannot be an indifferent spectator of

the series of events in that world to which he has given being. His

goodness will as certainly engage him to direct them agreeably to the

ends of goodness, as his wisdom and power enable him to do it in the

most effectual manner. This conclusion is conformable to all our ideas

of those attributes. Could we call that being good who would refuse to

do any good which he is able to do without the least labour or

difficulty? God is present every where. He sees all that happens, and it

is in his power, with perfect ease, to order all for the best. Can he

then possess goodness, and at the same time not do this? A God without a

providence is undoubtedly a contradiction. Nothing is plainer than that

a being of perfect reason will, in every instance, take such care of the

universe as perfect reason requires. That supreme intelligence and love,

which are present to all things, and from whence all things sprung, must

govern all occurrences. These considerations prove what has been called

a _particular_, in opposition to a _general_, providence. We cannot

conceive of any reasons that can influence the Deity to exercise _any_

providence over the world, which are not likewise reasons for extending

it to _all_ that happens in the world. As far as it is confined to

generals, or overlooks _any_ individual, or _any_ event, it is

incomplete, and therefore unsuitable to the idea of a perfect being.

One common prejudice against this doctrine arises from the apprehension

that it is below the dignity of the Deity to watch over, in the manner

implied in it, the meanest beings, and the minutest affairs. To which it

may be replied, that a great number of minute affairs, if they are each

of them of some consequence, make up a sum which is of great

consequence; and that there is no way of taking care of this sum,

without taking care of each particular. This objection, therefore, under

the appearance of honouring God, plainly dishonours him. Nothing is

absolutely trifling in which the happiness of any individual, even the

most insignificant, is at all concerned; nor is it beneath a wise and

good being to interpose in any thing of this kind. To suppose the Deity

above this, is to suppose him above acting up to the full extent of

goodness and rectitude. The same eternal benevolence that first engaged

him to produce beings, must also engage him to exercise a particular

providence over them; and the very lowest beings, as well as the

highest, seem to have a kind of right to his superintendence, from the

act itself of bringing them into existence. Every apprehension that this

is too great a condescension in him is founded on the poorest ideas;

for, surely, whatever it was not too great condescension in him to

create, it cannot be too great a condescension in him to take care of.

Beside, with regard to God, all distinctions in the creation vanish. All

beings are infinitely, that is, equally, inferior to him.

Accident, and chance, and fortune, are words which we often hear

mentioned, and much is ascribed to them in the life of man. But they are

words without meaning; or, as far as they have any signification, they

are no other than names for the unknown operations of providence; for it

is certain that in God’s universe nothing comes to pass causelessly, or

in vain. Every event has its own determined direction. That chaos of

human affairs and intrigues where we can see no light, that mass of

disorder and confusion which they often present to our view, is all

clearness and order in the sight of Him who is governing and directing

the whole, and bringing forward every event in its due time and place.

“The Lord sitteth on the flood. The Lord maketh the wrath of man to

praise him,” as he maketh the “hail and rain to obey his word. He hath

prepared his throne in the heavens; and his kingdom ruleth over all. A

man’s heart deviseth his way, but the Lord directeth his steps.” No

other principle than this, embraced with a steady faith, and attended

with a suitable practice, can ever be able to give repose and

tranquillity to the mind; to animate our hopes, or extinguish our fears;

to give us any true satisfaction in the enjoyments of life, or to

minister consolation under its adversities. If we are persuaded that God

governs the world, that he has the superintendence and direction of all

events, and that we are the objects of his providential care; whatever

may be our distress or our danger, we can never want consolation; we may

always have a fund of hope, always a prospect of relief. But take away

this hope and this prospect, take away the belief of God and of a

superintending providence, and man would be of all creatures the most

miserable; destitute of every comfort, every support, under present

sufferings, and of every security against future dangers.

PSALMS. The book of Psalms is a collection of hymns, or sacred songs, in

praise of God, and consists of poems of various kinds. They are the

productions of different persons, but are generally called the Psalms of

David, because a great part of them was composed by him, and David

himself is distinguished by the name of the Psalmist. We cannot now

ascertain all the Psalms written by David, but their number probably

exceeds seventy; and much less are we able to discover the authors of

the other Psalms, or the occasions upon which they were composed. A few

of them were written after the return from the Babylonian captivity. The

titles prefixed to them are of very questionable authority; and in many

cases they are not intended to denote the writer but refer only to the

person who was appointed to set them to music. David first introduced

the practice of singing sacred hymns in the public service of God; and

it was restored by Ezra. The authority of the Psalms is established not

only by their rank among the sacred writings, and by the unvaried

testimony of ages, but likewise by many intrinsic proofs of inspiration.

Not only do they breathe through every part a divine spirit of

eloquence, but they contain numberless illustrious prophecies that were

remarkably accomplished, and are frequently appealed to by the

evangelical writers. The sacred character of the whole book is

established by the testimony of our Saviour and his Apostles, who, in

various parts of the New Testament, appropriate the predictions of the

Psalms as obviously apposite to the circumstances of their lives, and as

intentionally composed to describe them. The veneration for the Psalms

has in all ages of the church been considerable. The fathers assure us,

that in the earlier times the whole book of Psalms was generally learned

by heart; and that the ministers of every gradation were expected to be

able to repeat them from memory. These invaluable Scriptures are daily

repeated without weariness, though their beauties are often overlooked

in familiar and habitual perusal. As hymns immediately addressed to the

Deity, they reduce righteousness to practice; and while we acquire the

sentiments, we perform the offices of piety; while we supplicate for

blessings, we celebrate the memorial of former mercies; and while in the

exercise of devotion, faith is enlivened by the display of prophecy.

Josephus asserts, and most of the ancient writers maintain, that the

Psalms were composed in metre. They have undoubtedly a peculiar

conformation of sentences, and a measured distribution of parts. Many of

them are elegiac, and most of David’s are of the lyric kind. There is no

sufficient reason however to believe, as some writers have imagined,

that they were written in rhyme, or in any of the Grecian measures. Some

of them are acrostic; and though the regulations of the Hebrew measure

are now lost, there can be no doubt, from their harmonious modulation,

that they were written with some kind of metrical order; and they must

have been composed in accommodation to the measure to which they were

set. (See _Poetry of the Hebrews_.) The Hebrew copies and the Septuagint

version of this book contain the same number of Psalms; only the

Septuagint translators have, for some reason which does not appear,

thrown the ninth and tenth into one, as also the one hundred and

fourteenth and one hundred and fifteenth, and have divided the one

hundred and sixteenth and one hundred and forty-seventh each into two.

It is very justly observed by Dr. Allix, that, “although the sense of

near fifty Psalms be fixed and settled by divine authors, yet Christ and

his Apostles did not undertake to quote all the Psalms they could, but

only to give a key to their hearers, by which they might apply to the

same subjects the Psalms of the same composure and expression.” With

regard to the Jews, Bishop Chandler very pertinently remarks, that “they

must have understood David, their prince, to have been a figure of

Messiah. They would not otherwise have made his Psalms part of their

daily worship; nor would David have delivered them to the church to be

so employed, were it not to instruct and support them in the knowledge

and belief of this fundamental article. Were the Messiah not concerned

in the Psalms, it would have been absurd to celebrate twice a day, in

their public devotions, the events of one man’s life, who was deceased

so long ago, as to have no relation now to the Jews and the

circumstances of their affairs; or to transcribe whole passages from

them into their prayers for the coming of the Messiah.” Upon the same

principle it is easily seen that the objections, which may seem to lie

against the use of Jewish services in Christian congregations, may cease

at once. Thus it may be said, Are we concerned with the affairs of David

and of Israel? Have we any thing to do with the ark and the temple? They

are no more. Are we to go up to Jerusalem, and to worship on Sion? They

are desolated, and trodden under foot by the Turks. Are we to sacrifice

young bullocks according to the law? The law is abolished, never to be

observed again. Do we pray for victory over Moab, Edom, and Philistia;

or for deliverance from Babylon? There are no such nations, no such

places in the world. What then do we mean, when, taking such expressions

into our mouths, we utter them in our own persons, as parts of our

devotions, before God? Assuredly we must mean a spiritual Jerusalem and

Sion; a spiritual ark and temple; a spiritual law; spiritual sacrifices;

and spiritual victories over spiritual enemies; all described under the

old names, which are still retained, though “old things are passed away,

and all things are become new,” 2 Cor. v, 17. By substituting Messiah

for David, the Gospel for the law, the church Christian for that of

Israel, and the enemies of the one for those of the other, the Psalms

are made our own. Nay, they are with more fulness and propriety applied

now to the substance, than they were of old to the “shadow of good

things then to come,” Heb. x, 1. For let it not pass unobserved, that

when, upon the first publication of the Gospel, the Apostles had

occasion to utter their transports of joy, on their being counted worthy

to suffer for the name of their Lord and Master, which was then opposed

by Jew and Gentile, they brake forth into an application of the second

Psalm to the transactions then before their eyes, Acts iv, 25. The

Psalms, thus applied, have advantages which no fresh compositions,

however finely executed, can possibly have; since, beside their

incomparable fitness to express our sentiments, they are at the same

time memorials of, and appeals to, former mercies and deliverances; they

are acknowledgments of prophecies accomplished; they point out the

connection between the old and new dispensations, thereby teaching us to

admire and adore the wisdom of God displayed in both, and furnishing

while we read or sing them, an inexhaustible variety of the noblest

matter that can engage the contemplations of man.

Very few of the Psalms, comparatively, appear to be simply prophetical,

and to belong only to Messiah, without the intervention of any other

person. Most of them, it is apprehended, have a double sense, which

stands upon this ground and foundation, that the ancient patriarchs,

prophets, priests, and kings, were typical characters, in their several

offices, and in the more remarkable passages of their lives, their

extraordinary depressions and miraculous exaltations foreshowing him who

was to arise as the head of the holy family, the great prophet, the true

priest, the everlasting king. The Israelitish polity, and the law of

Moses, were purposely framed after the example and shadow of things

spiritual and heavenly; and the events which happened to the ancient

people of God were designed to shadow out parallel occurrences, which

should afterward take place in the accomplishment of man’s redemption,

and the rise and progress of the Christian church. (See _Prophecy_.) For

this reason, the Psalms composed for the use of Israel, and by them

accordingly used at the time, do admit of an application to us, who are

now “the Israel of God,” Gal. vi, 16, and to our Redeemer, who is the

King of this Israel. It would be an arduous and adventurous undertaking

to attempt to lay down the rules observed in the conduct of the mystic

allegory, so diverse are the modes in which the Holy Spirit has thought

proper to communicate his counsels to different persons on different

occasions; inspiring and directing the minds of the prophets according

to his good pleasure; at one time vouchsafing more full and free

discoveries of future events; while, at another, he is more obscure and

sparing in his intimations. From hence, of course, arises a great

variety in the Scripture usage of this kind of allegory as to the manner

in which the spiritual sense is couched under the other. Sometimes it

can hardly break forth and show itself at intervals through the literal,

which meets the eye as the ruling sense, and seems to have taken entire

possession of the words and phrases. On the contrary, it is much oftener

the capital figure in the piece, and stands confessed at once by such

splendour of language, that the letter, in its turn, is thrown into

shade, and almost totally disappears. Sometimes it shines with a

constant equable light, and sometimes it darts upon us on a sudden, like

a flash of lightning from the clouds. But a composition is never more

truly elegant and beautiful, than when the two senses, alike

conspicuous, run parallel together through the whole poem, mutually

corresponding with and illustrating each other.

Thus the establishment of David upon his throne, notwithstanding the

opposition made to it by his enemies, is the subject of the second

Psalm. David sustains in it a twofold character, literal and

allegorical. If we read over the Psalm first with an eye to the literal

David, the meaning is obvious, and put out of all dispute by the sacred

history. There is indeed an uncommon glow in the expression, and

sublimity in the figures; and the diction is now and then exaggerated,

as it were, on purpose to intimate and lead us to the contemplation of

higher and more important matters concealed within. In compliance with

this admonition, if we take another survey of the Psalm, as relative to

the person and concerns of the spiritual David, a nobler series of

events instantly rises to view, and the meaning becomes more evident, as

well as exalted. The colouring, which may perhaps seem too bold and

glaring for the king of Israel, will no longer appear so, when laid upon

his great antitype. After we have thus attentively considered the

subject apart, let us look at them together, and we shall behold the

full beauty and majesty of this most charming poem. We shall perceive

the two senses very distinct from each other, yet conspiring in perfect

harmony, and bearing a wonderful resemblance in every feature and

lineament, while the analogy between them is so exactly preserved, that

either may pass for the original, from whence the other was copied. New

light is continually cast upon the phraseology, fresh weight and dignity

are added to the sentiment, till gradually ascending from things below

to things above, from human affairs to those which are divine, they bear

the great important theme upward with them, and at length place it in

the height and brightness of heaven. What has been observed with regard

to this Psalm, may also be applied to the seventy-second; the subject of

which is of the same kind, and treated in the same manner. Its title

might be, “The Inauguration of Solomon.” The scheme of the allegory is

alike in both; but a diversity of matter occasions an alteration in the

diction. For whereas one is employed in celebrating the magnificent

triumphs of victory, it is the design of the other to draw a pleasing

picture of peace, and of that felicity which is her inseparable

attendant. The style is therefore of a more even and temperate sort, and

more richly ornamented. It abounds not with those sudden changes of the

person speaking which dazzle and astonish; but the imagery is borrowed

from the delightful scenes with which creation cheers the sight, and the

pencil of the divine artist is dipped in the softer colours of nature.

And here we may take notice how peculiarly adapted to the genius of this

kind of allegory the parabolical style is, on account of that great

variety of natural images to be found in it. For as these images are

capable of being employed in the illustration of things divine and

human, between which there is a certain analogy maintained, so they

easily afford that ambiguity which is necessary in this species of

composition, where the language is applicable to each sense, and obscure

in neither; it comprehends both parts of the allegory, and may be

clearly and distinctly referred to one or the other.

On this book Bishop Horsley remarks:--These Psalms go, in general, under

the name of the Psalms of David. King David gave a regular and noble

form to the musical part of the Jewish service. He was himself a great

composer, both in poetry and music, and a munificent patron, no doubt,

of arts in which he himself so much delighted and excelled. The Psalms,

however, appear to be compositions of various authors, in various ages;

some much more ancient than the times of King David, some of a much

later age. Of many, David himself was undoubtedly the author; and that

those of his composition were prophetic, we have David’s own authority,

which may be allowed to overpower a host of modern expositors. For thus

King David, at the close of his life, describes himself and his sacred

songs: “David, the son of Jesse, said, and the man who was raised up on

high, the anointed of the God of Jacob, and the sweet psalmist of

Israel, said, The Spirit of Jehovah spake by me, and his word was in my

tongue.’ It was the word, therefore, of Jehovah’s Spirit which was

uttered by David’s tongue. But it should seem, the Spirit of Jehovah

would not be wanting to enable a mere man to make complaint of his own

enemies, to describe his own sufferings just as he felt them, and his

own escapes just as they happened. But the Spirit of Jehovah described

by David’s utterance what was known to that Spirit only, and that Spirit

only could describe. So that, if David be allowed to have had any

knowledge of the true subject of his own compositions, it was nothing in

his own life, but something put into his mind by the Holy Spirit of God;

and the misapplication of the Psalms to the literal David has done more

mischief than the misapplication of any other parts of the Scriptures

among those who profess the belief of the Christian religion.

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