"A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving
favor rather than silver and gold." Prov. xxii:1.
In this discourse we shall more fully show why "a good name is rather
to be chosen than great riches."
Though wealth is desirable, and in many instances conducive to human
happiness, because it puts it in our power to relieve the wants and
distresses of our fellow creatures, yet it does not possess the charm
to convey unbroken peace or solid joy to any bosom. The value, of
anything within the range of human action, is to be estimated by its
usefulness in promoting the happiness of man. That, which pours the
most numerous and refined enjoyments into the soul, is to be
considered of the greatest worth; and that, which has a tendency to
bring upon us the most alarming miseries, misfortunes and woes, is of
course the most worthless. The one is to be fondly chosen and pursued
in proportion to its worth in administering to our enjoyments, and the
other is to be avoided in proportion to its unhappy effects in
multiplying our sorrows. This being an undeniable fact, the
superlative value of a good name, procured by a virtuous course of
conduct, appears, at once, to transcend all other considerations: A
pure unsullied conscience before heaven is the most permanent bliss
that a rational being can enjoy, and is of that enduring nature which
no earthly power or misfortune can destroy. It supports us in the hour
of adversity and trial; it comforts us in the dark hour of sorrow; it
remains unmoved amids the storms of life, and lights up the smile of
satisfaction on the lips of the dying.
Nor is this all. It affords us other unruffled streams of unmingled
felicity in the common intercourse of life. The approbation of the
wise and the good, the confidence and esteem of our friends and
associates, and the good opinion even of the vicious, are
considerations of no ordinary moment. They awaken emotions in the
heart of the most pleasing gratification, and open in the soul all the
avenues of heaven-born felicity, imparting that peace, which this
world can neither give nor take away. But as it respects _wealth_, we
would remark, that though it may communicate happiness by enabling us
to relieve the wants of our fellow creatures, and afford us many joys
in the indulgence of our benevolence, yet it cannot of itself
communicate happiness, but virtue can. A wicked and unprincipled man
is wretched, though he roll in all the wealth and splendors that earth
can give. He feels in his bosom a _burning flame_, that all the
streams of wealth can never quench, and a _craving desire_, that
nought on earth can gratify. If his "great riches" afford him any
enjoyments, yet these are by no means permanent and lasting. The
desolating flame may lay them in ruins--the storms on the ocean may
sink them in its waves--the famine or blighting mildew may wither them
forever, and leave him stript of all his fancied joys. But nothing of
this can happen to virtue. That remains forever unharmed amidst the
shocks of earth. A good name is, therefore, of inconceivably more
value than riches and rather to be chosen than silver and gold.
We are formed for society. God in beginning said, "it is not good that
man should be alone." This being a fact, which all past experience,
and the history of our whole race demonstrate, it is, therefore,
equally true, that our dearest enjoyments flow from the social
affections and from a sincere cultivation of the social intercourse of
life. There is, perhaps, not a human being in existence, who would
accept of all the wealth of the Indies on the condition that he should
not be respected by a single individual on earth. This circumstance
shows us, in noonday light, the superior value of a good name above
all the glittering appendages of wealth. Every man is beloved and
esteemed in proportion to his goodness and usefulness in the world,
particularly by those with whom he associate in life. If then to _love
and be beloved_ depend on our conduct in the world, and if at the same
time, our happiness is derived from the exercise of reciprocal
affection, we see the importance of pitching upon that course of life,
which alone can secure those solid pleasures resulting from a well
spent life.
Too many persons suppose, they can be happy in sin; yes, even in
criminal indulgence. But that transgressor was never yet found, who
could point to a single wicked act in his life, the remembrance of
which ever imparted one solitary gleam of joy to his heart. They may
fancy there is happiness in sin; but here is the deception. It is
immaterial what some may preach about _the pleasures of sin_, and _the
satisfaction the transgressor often takes in a wicked course_, yet all
this amounts to nothing so long as the voice of heaven declares,
"THERE IS NO PEACE, SAITH MY GOD, TO THE WICKED." Infinite wisdom
_must know_, and infinite wisdom, _has given_ the decision, and that
decision is stamped with immortality, and from it there is no appeal.
If we impress the sinner with the idea that he is not punished and
rewarded _here_, but that the whole is to be settled in the future
world, then we, in the same proportion, weaken the force of virtue and
_strengthen_ the cause of vice. And this is one obvious reason, why
men continue in sin, as long as they dare, expecting at some future
day to repent and escape _all punishment_. They go on from day to day,
and from year to year, with all the thunders of endless and immortal
pain sounded in their ears, and even believing it true, yet continue
to indulge in sin. Would they run such an awful risk, unless, by a
certain course of education, they had been made to believe that there
was happiness in transgression? No. If they believed that sin had
nought to impart but misery, they would abandon it for its _own sake_;
because happiness is the object of all men. They have, therefore, by
some means or other, been led to the strange infatuation, that sin
possesses some secret charm to communicate that happiness to the soul,
for which every bosom throbs. This fancied happiness, they vainly
imagine, they can obtain by wallowing in the dark waters of iniquity,
be happy _here_, then repent at last, and be happy _hereafter_. As
they pass along in their wretched career, expecting every moment to
grasp the fancied pleasure, yet the fond, anticipated phantom flies
from their embrace and leaves them in the ruin of their joy. Though
disappointed again and again, yet firmly believing that there is
happiness in sin, they again push on, and thus far attribute their
want of success to some miscalculation. Insensible of the nature of
sin, blinded and self-deceived, they go on in pursuit of pleasure,
while golden dreams of false felicity fire their imaginations, till at
last, age places them on the verge of the grave; their object no
nearer attained than it was the day they set out, while habit has
fixed them in a course, that has yielded them nothing but sorrow and
pain, and vanity and vexation of spirit. Stung with remorse, and
pierced through with many sorrows, they breathe a repentance, which,
the nature of their condition, forces upon them, are perhaps
pronounced _converted_, and they sink into the darkness of death!
Their names, covered with infamy, are soon blotted from the
remembrance of the living!
We observed, a moment ago, that the idea, of holding up a retribution
in the future world, weakens the force of virtue, and strengthens the
cause of vice. This has, perhaps, been abundantly shown in the
arguments already offered as being manifest in the daily conduct of
men; yet we will, in a word, bring the subject plainly before you. To
persuade a sinner that he is to be punished in the _future_ world for
his sins in _this_, is plainly saying that sin has many pleasures and
conveniences _here_, and so far as it failed of rendering him his due
desert, the balance is to be made up in another state of being.
Because the balance of punishment due him _there_, is to make up the
_deficiency_ of punishment, which sin did not pay him here. And
certainly, so far as sin did not pay him _here_, he must have been
happy in its commission. And the _expectation_, that he should be
happy in it _here_, was the _very cause_ that induced him to continue
in transgression, with the expectation of repenting and escaping
punishment _hereafter_. Thus he flattered himself, that he could sin
with impunity, and escape its punishment in this world and the world
to come.
And to satisfy a man that he is to be rewarded in the _future_ world
for his righteousness in _this_ but persuading him, that virtue is
attended with misery, and that so far as it failed to reward _here_,
the balance is to be made up _hereafter_. Because the balance of
happiness due to him _there_, is to make up the deficiency of
happiness which virtue did not pay him _here_. And so far as virtue
did not pay him here, must have been miserable in its practice. And
the impression that sin is productive of many enjoyments, and that
righteousness is attended with misery, has a tendency to make him
choose the _former_ and reject the _latter_, and trust to a future
repentance.
We often hear it proclaimed by those, who profess to be the guardians
of the public morals, that the righteous have a hard course in warring
against the corruptions of their heart, in the service of God, while
the sinner goes on unconcerned and easy in the pleasures of sin. In
doing this they defeat the very object, they are striving to obtain,
which is the _conversion_ of the sinner. These very impressions are
one obvious reason why so many continue in sin and reject the path of
righteousness and peace, which alone conducts to a good name, that is
of more worth than great riches, and more durable than silver and
gold.
As then there is no happiness in vice, as all its allurements are
deceptive and vain, how important that we should shun it, and pursue
that bright path of virtue and peace, which will lead to the
invaluable possession of a good name. Engaging in the cultivation of
all the better affections of the heart, we shall by habit so refine
our natures, that "loving favor" will take entire possession of our
minds, and mould them into the spotless image of heaven. _This_ loving
favor is rather to be chosen than silver and gold, for these will
corrupt, and at last crumble into dust, while _this_ shall survive the
ruins of death, and flourish in those peaceful realms, where our
felicity will be unbroken and perpetual.
Flatter not yourselves with the vain hope, that there is one solitary
thrill of joy in the indulgence of sin. He, who indulges in
dissipation and vice--he, who slanders his neighbor, who wrongs his
fellow men, or even utters one oath against the unsullied name of his
Maker, is a most profound unbeliever in the sentiment we proclaim. He,
who possesses a hope so full of immortality as to believe, that God
will finally save from sin, and bless him and all his fellow men, will
cleanse his hands and wash them in innocency. Tell me not that you are
a Universalist, when the very oceans of God's goodness do not affect
your heart, nor lead you to repentance. He, who is satisfied that
there is no happiness in sin, will abandon it. He, who deliberately
pursues a vicious course, expects to find happiness in it; and it is
impossible that he believes in God's _universal grace_. It is
absolutely impossible in the very nature of things, that he can be a
UNIVERSALIST. A salvation from sin is the doctrine of the Bible, and
holiness itself heaven. He, who believes such a salvation to be
happifying, will abandon sin, as the enemy of his peace, and seek
righteousness, which alone can afford him tranquillity. Jesus says,
the kingdom of heaven is righteousness and peace. If you wish to
satisfy men that you _really_ desire the whole human family to meet in
heaven, then show your sincerity by being righteous yourself.
A sincere Universalist believes sin to be the cause of many mental
woes that darken the world, and the principal cause of the greater
proportion of sufferings that fall to the lot of man. He believes that
a virtuous course of conduct, guided by the burning lamp of
revelation, leads to those joys that time cannot sully, nor the hand
of death extinguish. A conviction of this truth leads him to hate sin,
to forsake its dark dominions, and enter those fields of felicity,
where the brilliant beams of virtue shed a cloudless day. Here he
walks and enjoys an antepast of heaven. Its paths are the paths of
peace. All its ways are pleasantness and delight. Its crystal streams
are pure and sweet; its breezes healthful and its fruits delicious. He
believes God to be the father of his creatures--that he governs the
world in wisdom and mercy--that he created with a benevolent
intention, and that he is not disappointed in the workmanship of his
hand, but presides over just such a world as he designed it should be.
He believes that this order of things, though dark to him, is designed
for good, and shall terminate in the happiness of all. He believes
that all rewards and punishments are instituted for some benevolent
end, and that this end, will be brought about in such a manner as to
manifest to all, the divine perfections in the clearest light, and
shed unfading glory on the supreme Majesty of heaven. This faith gives
him confidence in his heavenly Father, and fills his heart with
gratitude and veneration. It leads him to look upon the human family
as his brethren, and to do them good. He seeks their happiness, and
thus chooses and merits a good name.
At peace with all mankind, his mind irradiated with light and enlarged
with the most noble conceptions of the divine character and
government, bout, he at length lies down in peace and composure upon
his dying bed, and gently breathes out--
"Farewell conflicting joys and fears,
Where light and shade alternatedwell;
A brighter, purer scene appears,
Farewell inconstant world, farewell!"
He sweetly sinks to rest, and leaves behind him a good name, that can
never die, and an example, for others to imitate, worth more than
fortunes in gold. His memory shall survive, when the tomb, on which it
is inscribed, shall crumble into ruin, and his example be a light to
future generations.